T̨̡̖̙H̗͕̗͙̥̕E̶̤̻̝̙͈ ̨̱͇̮̠̕͡ͅL̢̘̱̀E̻̯̙̝͙͢V̢̰̜̭̩̕Í̢̦͈̝̼A̠̟̳̗̻̜ͅT̢̖̯͔͍̘͚̪̀H͓͙͙̥̩̖͇̀͘Ą̴͚̜͍̗̭̳̼̤N̨̘̮̺̰͕̺
Jun 5, 2019 14:55:40 GMT -5
Jordan, Alexander Pasternak, and 7 more like this
Post by Wade Moor on Jun 5, 2019 14:55:40 GMT -5
W a d e I n T h e W a t e r
Ą̠̟͔̖̞̤ṱ̸̬̹̣́e̢̞͈̹͔͈͍̕ḩ̴̢̻̭
̫̬̣̳͚̯M̡̼͖̻̪̞̮̥a̞̳l̼͔̥͎̲͙ͅḱ̪͓̤̝̕͝u̧̜̦t̶̸̨͚ͅh҉̦̭͚͉̘̖̥̥͢
̞̹̬̰̭͙̘̠ͅV̢̯̪͎͍̦͞e̶͉͚͕͖̘͖͟͝ͅ-̧͈̟̞̱̟̹̗G̷̷̢̮̱̠͔͍̲̱e̳̘͍̳̲̪͖͝b̵̷̠͈̟̀u͏̫͈̀r̼̠͚̬̼͜͞a͉̳͞ͅh̛͉ͅ
̗̪͡V̸̸̻͖̱̺é͉̲͈̤̳͇͡͞ͅ-͏̫͎̳̱̥G̡̩͉͉͙̫͕e҉̟̰̗͇̬̻̠̫̲d̨̜̝͍͉͖͡ͅu̡͎͉l̷͈a̫ͅh͏̶͕̟̪
̲L͖̹̟ę̶̷͇͓̱̩̟̲̠̟-͙̤ͅO̢̩͇̮̟̭͇̖l̘̠̪a̟̼̜̠͈̲̲̯h͓̬̗̥̬̩͘m̪̱͔͉̮͎͖,͇͓̲͎ ̸̧͏͕̟͕A̫̪͍m̢̢̩̫̫̭̝̞̙e̸̤̦̕͠n̴͏̭͕͉͍̙͈
̵̧̙͖̹̬̙͠A͏̱͡H̡̖͔̪́I̛̻̝͡H҉̢̳͓̰̹̞̠̥͡
̷̥̣̗̜̞͇̫́͠Y҉̙̥͔̺̹̦H̗̤͚͔̜V̵͏̩̣̯̜̘̱̮̙͇H͖͓̺̥̫̩̤͉̹͟<br≯̛̖͖͘À̲͎͖̹̰̬͠H̦͕͟I̢̜̮͉̘̞͚̞͡H͡҉̟̬̤
̢̘͍͕̥̬͍̞̩A͕̱͙͕̯̞̲̣͈L̷̜̘̦̞H̘͔̦̟͓̪͉͡I̼͢M̷͈̟̝̯̼̭<br≯͓A̢̡͙̟̮̯͟G̦L̸̛ͅA̭̩͈̜̺̲͕̥̲
҉̜̙̝̤̹͟͠Ę̝͙L̠͈͚͜͠
̵̶̣̣̬͙̻̕A̱͉̹̝̤͔͘͢Ǵ̳̝̤͕̤̼̪̱̜Ļ̨̩̘A͕̣͘͡͝
̨͉͔͈̳̭̝̗͟A̛̲͈̣͢͝D̞͖͜͝N̢̝̹̤̳̯I̥͚̮̪̞̗͓͉͡
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
It watched the husk of human meat slowly slip into decay. It wanted power, desired it above all else, but the creature also felt the depths of its insanity. He had killed his own brother for a mite of strength. It existed here, protecting this power, and the one it was connected with spiritually.
But sometimes - even for Those Who Came Before - fear is a massive burden. The one he was connected with, the mortal named Wade Moor, constantly disavowed it and spit in its face. So when the (man?) came to him with its proposition, it decided to give him a chance instead. That link it shared with Moor proved convenient for the first time in its life, and so it pulled the (man?) into this connection. Of course, the act effectively killed him.
Though his spirit now existed on this linear path, his body lay here to rot and become one with the swamp. Maybe, if it was feeling peckish later, it would feast...but for now, he would let the clown have his fun. He would let him have his power. Then when he did away with Wade Moor, he would do away with the clown, that weak, pitiful, miserable (man?) He wanted power? Always give them more than they can handle.
It (laughed?) as it slunk back beneath the depths, to bide it’s time.
For the first time in a long time, it was happy.
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
Shortly after Wade Moor’s elimination from the Havoc Rumble...
Gorilla position was still abuzz with production teams even though the night was coming to its conclusion. “Production Unit A” was sat in the corner, Torture at the helm of monitors spread out along a table. His headphones slipped off his head as Wade Moor stalked through the curtain and into the backstage area. Torture was waiting to greet him, let him know that he out on an incredible performance despite the outcome, and hell...maybe they could shake hands this time. He approached him with a smile beaming on his face.
“Wade!” Torture started, “Absolutely incredible performance man, one you should be...”
Torture was cut off as Wade shoved past him. Dejected, Tortures face slips into an expression of anger. His lip sneers in the corner, his eyes flare bright for a moment.
“Hey, asshole!” Torture called, “What the hell is your problem?!”
Wade stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder. He was trying to keep himself collected after being in total disbelief of his elimination from the Havoc Rumble. After that, he only had one thing on his mind; revenge on Quixote Della Torre. The man who finally caught his lucky break, the man who became an overnight sensation, all at the expense of Wade Moor.
“Look, I know you’re upset”, Torture stated, “With Quixote throwing you over and breaking your elimination record...”
This was enough for Moor. He snapped. His face turned a violent shade of red as he shoved the monitors off their tables and put his foot through the screen of one.
“What the fu -“
“Hey, god damn it, stop!”
Several voices began to call after him, but he wasn’t listening. His rage was blind as he crashed several thousand more dollars of production equipment to the floor, shattering screens, hunks of plastic and metal shrapnel flying all across gorilla. A security guard came after him, but before he reached him, Wade’s eyes glossed over. They went milky white as a fiendish smile spread on his face, ear to ear. He started to laugh uncontrollably as the production crew, Security, and Torture stood around him in a state of confusion. He stopped, suddenly, before jerking violently and falling in a heap on the floor.
“Someone get a medic!” Torture called.
Several production interns took off from the room and out of sight.
“Is he alive?” someone asked.
“I don’t think he’s breathing”, someone replied.
“Torture, what do we do?” someone else asked.
Torture was in a clear panic. He was wondering if something was wrong because of him, the match, or Wade himself. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what to do.
“Wait...”, someone said, “He’s saying something...”
“Let me through!” Torture yelled as he scrambled through the sea of bodies surrounding Wade and knelt down close to him, “Wade! Talk to me!”
Torture leaned in close as Wade’s eyes shot open. It must have been a trick of the light, but Torture noticed his eyes were black. Two small black beads caved in the back of his skull. They felt far off, like they weren’t even part of this world. Torture wasn’t sure what he felt - but if he asked somebody in the know, they’d tell him he felt a lifetime of Wade’s pain in a single second. His hair stood on end and his skin erupted in goosebumps. Wade’s lips started to move as Torture leaned in right next to his mouth.
“O̵͈̲̗̙̗̠h̯̹,̻̩̯͉͘ ̡̖̞̻s̰̩̮͉͖̺͖͟u͞҉͇̞̰ç͙͕̟͚̜͙h̠̗̹̹̤̪͚̕͠ͅ ̨̣̩̰f̛͓̫̫̙̰͓u҉̡̜̜̭̻ͅṇ̗̪̤̥͜.”
Torture pushed himself away from Wade as quickly as he could, knocking over several members of his staff in the process. Someone tried to help him up off the floor, but he swatted them away before disappearing around a corner and out of sight.
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
This formerly happy scene set betwixt two Capensia plants, that beautiful Nordic cherry chair, and the lush regal rug was now replaced by ruin. The trees lavish foliage looked mercilessly rent, the chair a pile of smolder and ash, while the carpet looked slit into with a massive knife. The once cheerful William Moor was nowhere to be found, instead a man stood over the wreckage - with a physique any man would describe as Howitzer-like - huffing and heaving over his handiwork. He turns around and
That shark toothed sneer curls underneath the mask. Those once oceanic blue eyes were replaced with black beads.
“Here we are Quixote.”
The (creature?) speaks and it no longer sounds like William Moor. It doesn’t even sound like Wade. The voice sounds like it’s erupting from the obsidian depths of the lowest part of Hell.
“You know how we got here. I shouldn’t have to recant this tale, but for context, I believe it’s important.”
He giggles underneath his mask. That childish giggle sends unnerving shivers down your tightened spine.
“You look confused. What did you expect, a wild animal? I may look monstrous, but I still work neat. That’s what separates me from the beasts of the plains. I’m not some simple predator, hunting prey for survival. No, I’d rather consider myself a big game hunter. This is sport to me. What I’ve done to you, Quixote, has been so much FUN...but all good things must come to a resolute end, and for you, that comes at Evolution.”
He begins to pace back and forth across the wrecked set, his monstrous frame hulking over you, ten stories tall.
“I’m sure you thought that green mile would take a little longer. It feels like only yesterday you were throwing me over that top rope at the Havoc Rumble and signing your own death certificate. You must be stupid if you believe there would be no consequence to your actions, but you’ve been oh so used to getting away with murder. You were gifted with a silver tongue that I’m sure is priceless. It’s helped you out of more than one sticky situation. It’s going to be a god damn shame when I rip it out of your head at Evolution.
“For all your chest bolstering and bravado, you’ve still been outsmarted by the one person whose number you claim to have; mine. Like the hydra of the sea, every time you cut off a head, three more appear in its place, more cunning, more violent, and much more dangerous than before. I’m an enigma, Quixote, one you thought you would have plenty of time to solve...but time is funny like that.”
“Week after week I’ve spent carving out a little space inside your head, a place I could hang my hat at the end of the day, a little hovel I could fall home. It’s warm and snug in there, right next door to adolescent trauma and just around the corner from ‘date rape ideas’. Tell me, does it get mentally and physically exhausting pretending to be somebody you’re not? Your silver tongue can’t save you from your own thoughts, can it? You can convince everyone else your someone else entirely but you can never convince yourself. For a while there, you let the mask slip, you showed everyone your true colors...”
He starts to wag his finger directly at you, Quixote.
“...but the moment the unwashed, disgusting, plebeian masses showed you an ounce of support, you were back on that grind. La nonviolenza di Quixote. The break was over and you couldn’t be the piece of shit anymore. Not with the big bad wolf knocking on your glass door, not by the hairs on your prepubescent chinny chin chin. Not when you had me to make you SHINE brighter than a diamond. Isn’t it kind of telling when I make your brand of evil feel comfortable? Humanity is familiar, they can relate to it. Now, they fear me, but more importantly, they fear FOR you. They’re afraid of what I’m going to do to you. With good reason, Quixote.
“All you’ve done since then is somehow convince yourself that you’re going to kill the myth. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m no myth. I’m as real as it gets, the boogeyman in the flesh. Everything you’ve heard about me is true, you can fill a cemetery with the skeletons in my closet. HE saved me, showed me the way, made me better. I used to hide what I was away from the world, hoping to blend in, but as apparent as my ability in the ring, everyone knew that I was different. Special? You bet. People like you are a dime a dozen, Quixote. You’re one in ten, I’m once in a lifetime.”
He laughs in the back of his throat.
“No longer will I hide myself away from this world. I plan to embrace who I am, and that makes Sunday night absolutely devastating for you Quixote. All thanks to HIM, I have the opportunity...NO, the privilege of ridding the world of another man in a mask...oh, this?”
He points at his (face?) mask.
“This is just me wearing my monster on my sleeve. You should try it sometime, truly embrace it. It’s wholly refreshing, revolutionary even. Maybe after I’m finished stomping you back into primordial ooze, HE’LL fix you too. HE thinks you’re ready, but HE must finish fixing me first. This match is all part of my healing process now. I can’t fully move on until you’re beaten into a shadow of Quixote Della Torre, and I’m going to make what your father did to you seem trivial. Loving. I’ll make the last six weeks look like funny jokes in comparison. Well laugh about it later, but first, I have to apologize to you one last time...because Evolution is really going to fucking hurt.”
He cracks his gloved knuckles, the friction of the leather squeaks as well.
“What do you have over me other than one lucky elimination at the Havoc Rumble? You broke my record, it was bound to happen eventually. It’s just numbers digitized in the ether...but when I broke the record, I went on to win the entire damn match. That’s not luck, Quixote. That’s undeniable skill. Something that you’re still trying to prove to everyone and yourself you have, I have over in spades. You can try and make light of my professional achievements, but the things I’ve done to men far more accomplished than you can’t be forgotten. I get that it’s easier to pretend they haven’t happened. Turn the lights off and maybe the boogeyman will go away?
“Surprise!”
He throws his hands out and confetti blasts everywhere - but the confetti is oddly fleshlike, and some of it hits the ground with a flesh “SCHLOP!” sound. Hit sneer bends sharky once more.
“I’m still here...and I’m NEVER GOING AWAY! My opponents always think they’ve become Wade-Wise, but then I find new and interesting ways to destroy them. I find new and interesting ways to call them into question, put them on trial, find them guilty of being below me, and then sentence them to evisceration. Of course, HE gave me a nudge in the right direction, but this was inside of me all along. This power that belongs to US. I get so excited thinking about it I cou̷͓̬̳̪͓͓̥̥͢͜͢͡l͝҉̴͕̭̩͕͔͍̥̖̱͖̼̕d̡͙̥̲̩̱͔̘̞̀͘̕ just P͟͏̷̡̜̟̖̙̠̗͕͜Ơ̵̸̭͕͉̻̥̘̞̳̺͔̘͈̩̣̖̲P̵͈̩̼͕̭̗̰̱͇͈͕̳͍!̦͖̰̼̖͉́́͟͡”
“Couldn’t you, Quixote? You have to admit, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you, right? A chance to go toe to toe with the ONLY PILLAR in Action Wrestling? You might think you have everything to gain in this- win or lose - but you forgot to take into account what this match might cost you. You’re so D̷͉̜͈͙͇̉͗ͪͧ͊ͣͫͫ͒͋̓̍ͩ́̿̾̀͟ͅE̎̊̓́̔ͪ͐ͤ͛ͪ͐͆̅͆̿̅͛̿ͤ҉̶̣͕̟̪̠͎͙̦͔̥̦̱̘̰͝A̷ͥ̋ͫͥ͐ͦ̋́͆̋͞҉̻̟̲̰̲̜͇̣̯̘͈̯̯D̘̠̙̼͕̖̤̣͙̫̠̬̮͉̤̮ͯ̃̿͜͝ͅͅ set on your victory, that the possibility of loss never occurred to you.”
He starts to count on (talon clawed) fingers.
“Adoration of the people.”
He sneers.
“Your career.”
He guffaws.
“The ability to walk and speak.”
He chuckles a deep belly laugh.
“The ability to chew solid food.”
He’s breaking out in absolute hysterics now and falls to his knees. With wheezing laughs he begins to hit the floor as hard as he possibly can. For a split second his eyes turn blue, and the tone changes fearful. He barely utters a syllable before his eyes slunk back into his skull once more and those endless obsidian circles return. The feed cuts to (DEAR GOD HIS FACE) static.
The static cuts away and we’re back with his toothy grin. He holds up his hands in mock surrender, his right hand dripping steadily with blood.
“Sorry about that, a little technical difficulty, but we’re back with this scheduled verbal decimation of Quixote Della Torre. Hopefully, I have you a little bit to think over with that loss stuff there. Maybe then this will all start to click inside your feeble mind. The things I’ve done to you, the physical attacks, exposing you, they’ve all served their purpose, the means to an end, which is having you one hundred percent laser focused on this match at Evolution. I found the only way to have somebody at their undisputed best is to make things personal...so when I completely dismantle them in the ring, there’s no question who is better.
“Evolution is a fitting name, don’t you think Quixote? I’m tipping the evolutionary scales walking into this match. When I walk, the earth cracks under foot. When I bathe, the ocean eats up the world. The sun eclipses and the earth turns black, on end, and everyone slips into Hell’s gaping maw. After Evolution...Action Wrestling - hell, the world - will never be the same.”
He starts to laugh once more, the laughing fit once again sending him into unquenchable hysteria. A tidal wave of balloons start to float up from underneath him, this time with a different inscription.
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
The streetlights illuminated themselves precisely at 7:30 PM, just as the sun started to set. The boy walked down the street, his hair unruly, his shirt a mess, ripped jeans led down his legs to scuffed boots. “I don’t give a god(nilla) damn though”, he thought to himself as he continued down the street, whistling a tune to a song he didn’t entirely know, but it sounded good and he could fuck on that.
There was nowhere in particular this boy had to be tonight, the World was his for the taking. No parents, no home, unlimited possibilities. He wandered further down the road, not knowing where this one and the next would take him. A man stood on his wrap around porch at the end of the road. The house looked familiar to the boy, but he wasn’t sure where it was from. All he could remember was the taste of metal in his mouth and the color red. The man waved friendly as he came up to the house.
“Hey kid”, he said, “Get on home now. You shouldn’t be out this late anyways. A lot of weirdos come out at night, I’ve heard.”
“You’re out at night”, the boy replied.
The man smiled. A strange crooked smile.
“Good point”, he said, “But so are you.”
The man curled his fingers together, like a spider catching its prey.
“Good point.”
The boy huffed as he replied. Something about that made him feel weird inside. His guts started to bubble a little like he had to use the bathroom something fierce.
“Why the long face?” The man asked, “Something got you down?”
The boy wasn’t sure if he should say, but there was something about the mans face that was very friendly. Familiar, even. The boy walked a little closer, stopping about nine feet from the porch.
“I just feel funny, is all”, the boy replied.
“Oh, that’s the L̫͖̲͈ͅE̳̩͔̩͡V̛̝͈̙̺̘̣̳̟̦I̮̱͚̳̪̦̺͕̕A̧̩̬͓͇ͅT̟͍̫̝͙̯̗Ḥ̨͙̙̭̦̜͢͟A̱͍̜͎̬̫N̡̹̱̳̟̩̺̞͝ ̨̯͓C̸̸͙̲̻̦L̳̹̦̫͙͎͚̞A̡̱͎̫̮̞̗͕͕͜W͇̤͜͝I̙͓̰͞N̰͈̞͠G̨̢̭̻ ̀͏͍̰̻̮̯̬̬̥͎I̧̝͖̞̟̳͉̣T̫̰̱͎͔̟͖̲́S̨͕̣̦͞ͅ ̗̣̤́͡W̵̯͎͍̞A̷̟͈̣͔͘Y̢̮̦̝̻̼̼͕͔̣ ̴̷̡̩͍O҉̠̼̰͈̱̘͕͔͉U͏̼͎̪͍̠̺͕̝͠T̖̣̘̼̖̺́͡͠ ̛̛͍̦̺̕I̟̳̦̯̗̩͉ͅS̵̸͖͎̟̟̫̪̲N͏̯̟͓͚̞̮͢T̡̲͚̻̟̠͟ ̻̜̥͕͙͡Į̵͎͙͢T̙͔̰̲̯͔̖̦̟͝ ̢̛̠̝̗̗̖͞E̢̺̣̫̮͙͖͠͠X̛̯C̛̘̗I̸̬͖̟T̴̛̳̝͙͇I̲̲͓N̡̥͇̦͟͡G̡͙͔̗̞̩͈͎̭͝͡”
The boy was taken aback, he wasn’t quite sure what the man had said. It scratched the inside of his head like a hook fastening around his brain.
“What did you say?”, the boy asked, his ears ringing loud with static.
“I said it’s probably just nerves”, he replied, “Must’ve spooked you about the W̷҉͏̟͉̞̮͈̳͇ͅE̮̳Í̡̜͉̮̤͉̪R̷̸͍͕͔̯̼͇D̴̪̜̀͜O͢͏̜̪͖͇̫̭̲S. What’s your name boy?”
The boy was frightened now. His skin was boiling with fear as his legs wobbled.
“W-w-wade”, he stuttered.
He looked down at the ground as a gush of blood spat from his nose. He tried to scream but no sound came out.
“Probably just nerves”, the man repeated, his crooked smile now upside down.
The boy hit the ground and passed out.
THE L̫͖̲͈ͅE̳̩͔̩͡V̛̝͈̙̺̘̣̳̟̦I̮̱͚̳̪̦̺͕̕A̧̩̬͓͇ͅT̟͍̫̝͙̯̗Ḥ̨͙̙̭̦̜͢͟A̱͍̜͎̬̫N̡̹̱̳̟̩̺̞͝ ̨̯͓C̸̸͙̲̻̦L̳̹̦̫͙͎͚̞A̡̱͎̫̮̞̗͕͕͜W͇̤͜͝I̙͓̰͞N̰͈̞͠G̨̢̭̻ ̀͏͍̰̻̮̯̬̬̥͎I̧̝͖̞̟̳͉̣T̫̰̱͎͔̟͖̲́S̨͕̣̦͞ͅ ̗̣̤́͡W̵̯͎͍̞A̷̟͈̣͔͘Y̢̮̦̝̻̼̼͕͔̣ ̴̷̡̩͍O҉̠̼̰͈̱̘͕͔͉U͏̼͎̪͍̠̺͕̝͠T̖̣̘̼̖̺́͡͠ ̛̛͍̦̺̕I̟̳̦̯̗̩͉ͅS̵̸͖͎̟̟̫̪̲N͏̯̟͓͚̞̮͢T̡̲͚̻̟̠͟ ̻̜̥͕͙͡Į̵͎͙͢T̙͔̰̲̯͔̖̦̟͝ ̢̛̠̝̗̗̖͞E̢̺̣̫̮͙͖͠͠X̛̯C̛̘̗I̸̬͖̟T̴̛̳̝͙͇I̲̲͓N̡̥͇̦͟͡G̡͙͔̗̞̩͈͎̭͝͡
🎈
🎈🎈
🎈🎈🎈
🎈🎈🎈🎈
🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈
Wade awoke sometime later, face up, staring at an opulent, steepled ceiling. He turned over to get his bearings and look for the man...but instead, a woman lay next to him. He only saw the back of her head, but her blonde hair was familiar. He sunk into her, feeling her warmth. He used his hand - now the size of a full grown mans - to caress her side. She wriggled against his touch, sighing, and pushed herself into him. He felt like he could stay there forever.
“Probably just nerves”, she said, but it wasn’t her voice.
His heart skipped several beats as he whipped her over to face him, but only the hollow eyes of a decayed skull with a crooked smile met his gaze. He bounded back at the revelation and crashed to the floor. Immediately, the hardwood slowly started to swallow him whole. He thrashed against the pressure but it was no use. His heart raced as the bodies decayed fingers gripped over the edge of the bed and grabbed a handful of sheets. It pulled itself off the edge of the bed and hit the ground with a sick deadweight thud.
The body started to crawl towards him, it’s unhinged snapping vigorously, coming close to his face. He closed his eyes to accept his fate, but the squishy gnashing sound stopped. He opened them expecting to see the corpses’ face one more time before it ended him, but instead the man was bent comically down towards his face. It was the man but it wasn’t because his face was covered in a smeared layer of greasepaint, as if he applied it hastily, that crooked smile shining through it all.
“Helloooooo Wade”, he spoke, “Having FUN yet?”
Wade wanted to replied, but for the first time in a long time, he was terrified. Sweat dripped quickly down his face as his heart thumped against his breast bone.
“No need to talk, now”, he said as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and crossed his thin, spidery legs, “I can hear your thoughts. Feel what you’re feeling. Your reality can be whatever I want it to be.”
He snapped his bony, taloned fingers and transported them into an interrogation room. Now the man was dressed like a hard boiled detective, that greasepaint still smeared on his face. Wade looked down at his hands, now cuffed to a metal bar on the table. He pulled with all his might and the cuffs snapped as the man started to retreat in fear, and huddled in the corner.
Wade approached him, seething, but two pairs of hands gripped his biceps and pulled him back down into his chair. Their grips were vice like, keeping him held firmly in place. The man started to laugh and dance around the room. He did several twirls before stopping on his tippy toes and leaning in towards Wade’s face, his expression serious.
“You’re gonna tell me what I want to hear, schee”, he said as he jabbed his pointy fingers into Wade’s sternum, each one with the intensity of a full force punch.
“What...”, Wade tried to speak, but his breaths were shallow, “...what do...you want...from me?”
“Well, my friend”, the man replied, now back in his normal voice, “There’s something just inside here...”
He pointed his finger, his hand now shaped like a pistol, onto Wade’s temple. His touched seared his skin and caused Wade to groan in agony.
“...that I can’t get to. Protected by you. The last little bastion of humanity inside you is putting up one hell of a fight. There must be something REALLY GOOD in there if you don’t want me to have it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about...”
The man slammed his fist down and cracked the metal table into two symmetrical pieces.
“T̸̹͙̝̦̭́Ḫ̡͟A̸͉̙͜T̶͙̙̱S̙̘͚̹̜̥̭̣ ͟͏̨̩͈̫͔̤N̝͠O̷̼͔͕̱̳̟͢T̵̫̟̱̣ͅ ̀͏̺̜͎W̧̮̣̗̕H̜̭͖̘͇͍͙͝͡A̜̗͔̥̺̥̫͠T͉̝̭̣̯̮̥̼͝ ̴̨̼̭͢I͖̮̻̳̦̻ ̮̣̼W͏͖͖̰̬͝A͏̞̼͈̕͠N͍̤͙̮̕T̠̘̭̯͖̱̬ ̴̴̪͈͍͇̹̩T͚͉̥̫̖̣́͜O҉̷̼̯͝ ̠̠̭̞̳̗̗͡H̼̘̠̻̗́Ḛ̬̼̤͘͢A̵̪̼͎͕̕R̵͙̣͍̞͟͡!” he shouted, his voice erupting from somewhere deadly.
Suddenly, the man disappeared, and in his place was a giant static box tube screen. It started playing scenes before him, the blonde girl was there and the man was strangling her, beating her, fucking her...
“STOP!” Wade shouted, his voice exasperated, done, “What do you want to hear?”
“Now I can get in there”, the man replied, now standing in front of him until he closes the distance and sits on his lap. He presses his finger against his forehead one more time, “But you have to really believe that I can. I need you to let me in, Wade. Let me in so I can let you out. I can help you Wade. It’s either that or this...”
He waves his hand back towards the static tube once more, but Wade shakes his head once more and it lops down to his side.
“No. I can’t”, Wade replied, “Whatever it is...its yours.”
The man smiled that bent, sharklike grin and snapped his fingers one more time. He disappeared and a thousand balloons took his place, all inscribed with the same sentence.
THE L̫͖̲͈ͅE̳̩͔̩͡V̛̝͈̙̺̘̣̳̟̦I̮̱͚̳̪̦̺͕̕A̧̩̬͓͇ͅT̟͍̫̝͙̯̗Ḥ̨͙̙̭̦̜͢͟A̱͍̜͎̬̫N̡̹̱̳̟̩̺̞͝ ̨̯͓C̸̸͙̲̻̦L̳̹̦̫͙͎͚̞A̡̱͎̫̮̞̗͕͕͜W͇̤͜͝I̙͓̰͞N̰͈̞͠G̨̢̭̻ ̀͏͍̰̻̮̯̬̬̥͎I̧̝͖̞̟̳͉̣T̫̰̱͎͔̟͖̲́S̨͕̣̦͞ͅ ̗̣̤́͡W̵̯͎͍̞A̷̟͈̣͔͘Y̢̮̦̝̻̼̼͕͔̣ ̴̷̡̩͍O҉̠̼̰͈̱̘͕͔͉U͏̼͎̪͍̠̺͕̝͠T̖̣̘̼̖̺́͡͠ ̛̛͍̦̺̕I̟̳̦̯̗̩͉ͅS̵̸͖͎̟̟̫̪̲N͏̯̟͓͚̞̮͢T̡̲͚̻̟̠͟ ̻̜̥͕͙͡Į̵͎͙͢T̙͔̰̲̯͔̖̦̟͝ ̢̛̠̝̗̗̖͞E̢̺̣̫̮͙͖͠͠X̛̯C̛̘̗I̸̬͖̟T̴̛̳̝͙͇I̲̲͓N̡̥͇̦͟͡G̡͙͔̗̞̩͈͎̭͝͡
Wade let sleep take him once more, silently wishing that it would take him forever.
Ą̠̟͔̖̞̤ṱ̸̬̹̣́e̢̞͈̹͔͈͍̕ḩ̴̢̻̭
̫̬̣̳͚̯M̡̼͖̻̪̞̮̥a̞̳l̼͔̥͎̲͙ͅḱ̪͓̤̝̕͝u̧̜̦t̶̸̨͚ͅh҉̦̭͚͉̘̖̥̥͢
̞̹̬̰̭͙̘̠ͅV̢̯̪͎͍̦͞e̶͉͚͕͖̘͖͟͝ͅ-̧͈̟̞̱̟̹̗G̷̷̢̮̱̠͔͍̲̱e̳̘͍̳̲̪͖͝b̵̷̠͈̟̀u͏̫͈̀r̼̠͚̬̼͜͞a͉̳͞ͅh̛͉ͅ
̗̪͡V̸̸̻͖̱̺é͉̲͈̤̳͇͡͞ͅ-͏̫͎̳̱̥G̡̩͉͉͙̫͕e҉̟̰̗͇̬̻̠̫̲d̨̜̝͍͉͖͡ͅu̡͎͉l̷͈a̫ͅh͏̶͕̟̪
̲L͖̹̟ę̶̷͇͓̱̩̟̲̠̟-͙̤ͅO̢̩͇̮̟̭͇̖l̘̠̪a̟̼̜̠͈̲̲̯h͓̬̗̥̬̩͘m̪̱͔͉̮͎͖,͇͓̲͎ ̸̧͏͕̟͕A̫̪͍m̢̢̩̫̫̭̝̞̙e̸̤̦̕͠n̴͏̭͕͉͍̙͈
̵̧̙͖̹̬̙͠A͏̱͡H̡̖͔̪́I̛̻̝͡H҉̢̳͓̰̹̞̠̥͡
̷̥̣̗̜̞͇̫́͠Y҉̙̥͔̺̹̦H̗̤͚͔̜V̵͏̩̣̯̜̘̱̮̙͇H͖͓̺̥̫̩̤͉̹͟<br≯̛̖͖͘À̲͎͖̹̰̬͠H̦͕͟I̢̜̮͉̘̞͚̞͡H͡҉̟̬̤
̢̘͍͕̥̬͍̞̩A͕̱͙͕̯̞̲̣͈L̷̜̘̦̞H̘͔̦̟͓̪͉͡I̼͢M̷͈̟̝̯̼̭<br≯͓A̢̡͙̟̮̯͟G̦L̸̛ͅA̭̩͈̜̺̲͕̥̲
҉̜̙̝̤̹͟͠Ę̝͙L̠͈͚͜͠
̵̶̣̣̬͙̻̕A̱͉̹̝̤͔͘͢Ǵ̳̝̤͕̤̼̪̱̜Ļ̨̩̘A͕̣͘͡͝
̨͉͔͈̳̭̝̗͟A̛̲͈̣͢͝D̞͖͜͝N̢̝̹̤̳̯I̥͚̮̪̞̗͓͉͡
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
It watched the husk of human meat slowly slip into decay. It wanted power, desired it above all else, but the creature also felt the depths of its insanity. He had killed his own brother for a mite of strength. It existed here, protecting this power, and the one it was connected with spiritually.
But sometimes - even for Those Who Came Before - fear is a massive burden. The one he was connected with, the mortal named Wade Moor, constantly disavowed it and spit in its face. So when the (man?) came to him with its proposition, it decided to give him a chance instead. That link it shared with Moor proved convenient for the first time in its life, and so it pulled the (man?) into this connection. Of course, the act effectively killed him.
Though his spirit now existed on this linear path, his body lay here to rot and become one with the swamp. Maybe, if it was feeling peckish later, it would feast...but for now, he would let the clown have his fun. He would let him have his power. Then when he did away with Wade Moor, he would do away with the clown, that weak, pitiful, miserable (man?) He wanted power? Always give them more than they can handle.
It (laughed?) as it slunk back beneath the depths, to bide it’s time.
For the first time in a long time, it was happy.
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
Shortly after Wade Moor’s elimination from the Havoc Rumble...
Gorilla position was still abuzz with production teams even though the night was coming to its conclusion. “Production Unit A” was sat in the corner, Torture at the helm of monitors spread out along a table. His headphones slipped off his head as Wade Moor stalked through the curtain and into the backstage area. Torture was waiting to greet him, let him know that he out on an incredible performance despite the outcome, and hell...maybe they could shake hands this time. He approached him with a smile beaming on his face.
“Wade!” Torture started, “Absolutely incredible performance man, one you should be...”
Torture was cut off as Wade shoved past him. Dejected, Tortures face slips into an expression of anger. His lip sneers in the corner, his eyes flare bright for a moment.
“Hey, asshole!” Torture called, “What the hell is your problem?!”
Wade stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder. He was trying to keep himself collected after being in total disbelief of his elimination from the Havoc Rumble. After that, he only had one thing on his mind; revenge on Quixote Della Torre. The man who finally caught his lucky break, the man who became an overnight sensation, all at the expense of Wade Moor.
“Look, I know you’re upset”, Torture stated, “With Quixote throwing you over and breaking your elimination record...”
This was enough for Moor. He snapped. His face turned a violent shade of red as he shoved the monitors off their tables and put his foot through the screen of one.
“What the fu -“
“Hey, god damn it, stop!”
Several voices began to call after him, but he wasn’t listening. His rage was blind as he crashed several thousand more dollars of production equipment to the floor, shattering screens, hunks of plastic and metal shrapnel flying all across gorilla. A security guard came after him, but before he reached him, Wade’s eyes glossed over. They went milky white as a fiendish smile spread on his face, ear to ear. He started to laugh uncontrollably as the production crew, Security, and Torture stood around him in a state of confusion. He stopped, suddenly, before jerking violently and falling in a heap on the floor.
“Someone get a medic!” Torture called.
Several production interns took off from the room and out of sight.
“Is he alive?” someone asked.
“I don’t think he’s breathing”, someone replied.
“Torture, what do we do?” someone else asked.
Torture was in a clear panic. He was wondering if something was wrong because of him, the match, or Wade himself. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what to do.
“Wait...”, someone said, “He’s saying something...”
“Let me through!” Torture yelled as he scrambled through the sea of bodies surrounding Wade and knelt down close to him, “Wade! Talk to me!”
Torture leaned in close as Wade’s eyes shot open. It must have been a trick of the light, but Torture noticed his eyes were black. Two small black beads caved in the back of his skull. They felt far off, like they weren’t even part of this world. Torture wasn’t sure what he felt - but if he asked somebody in the know, they’d tell him he felt a lifetime of Wade’s pain in a single second. His hair stood on end and his skin erupted in goosebumps. Wade’s lips started to move as Torture leaned in right next to his mouth.
“O̵͈̲̗̙̗̠h̯̹,̻̩̯͉͘ ̡̖̞̻s̰̩̮͉͖̺͖͟u͞҉͇̞̰ç͙͕̟͚̜͙h̠̗̹̹̤̪͚̕͠ͅ ̨̣̩̰f̛͓̫̫̙̰͓u҉̡̜̜̭̻ͅṇ̗̪̤̥͜.”
Torture pushed himself away from Wade as quickly as he could, knocking over several members of his staff in the process. Someone tried to help him up off the floor, but he swatted them away before disappearing around a corner and out of sight.
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
This formerly happy scene set betwixt two Capensia plants, that beautiful Nordic cherry chair, and the lush regal rug was now replaced by ruin. The trees lavish foliage looked mercilessly rent, the chair a pile of smolder and ash, while the carpet looked slit into with a massive knife. The once cheerful William Moor was nowhere to be found, instead a man stood over the wreckage - with a physique any man would describe as Howitzer-like - huffing and heaving over his handiwork. He turns around and
H̹͉̟̤͖͉̰̞͡E̵̱̖̜̮͍̟̹S̵̹͙̱̤̺̭̦͝ͅ ̡̠̤̯̘L̯̮̲̪̟͎O̸̷̩͚Ò̲̖͘ͅK̢͇̺̝I̮͈̕͜N̷̼͎̺̠̬͡G̞̝̱͟͠ ̹̙̹͚͇̭̤̝͜A̶̖̥͙T̷͠҉̻̦̝̺̞̟̪͔͍ ͏̸̢͓̤̱͖̞̼̫̗Ḿ̲͔͈͕̲͇̦̹͠E̷͖̭̭͙̱̮̠̠ͅ
̭̰̮͈͎̝
̝͕̠̥͞Ḍ̻̘̠͞ͅE̸̥̜̹̭̳̲͚͓͈Ą͙̙̝͕R͔ ̣͓͖̬̣͈͡G҉͏̲O̢̧̤͚D͟҉̱͇̹̰̮ ͙̫̠͚͓͕T̸͚̰͚͔͍̝͚̠H̜͉̟͖̱̤̪͔͝A̭͟T̷̻͖̖̭̱͕ͅ ̤͔̩̹͞͡͝F̹͓̮̀Á͎̦͜͝C̵̶̡̠̖͖̳E͏͙̲͓̹
̥̹̰̱̺́͢
̴̼̼͇̱̤̘̖͉͟͜I͈̬͈̥̖̯͓̜̟S̟̫ ͏͎͓̠͖͕̠͔ͅT̷̬̺̤̭̻̀͡Ḫ̶̥͓̘̰͕͖̯͜A̷̢̞͙T͓͙̝̝̼̹͘ͅ ͎͠S̨͍͍͚̼̳̭͟K͡͏̹̭̪͇̭̣̤͖͈͘I̤͉͇̘̩͖̣Ṉ̶̲̦̼͔̪̮́͜
̭̰̮͈͎̝
̝͕̠̥͞Ḍ̻̘̠͞ͅE̸̥̜̹̭̳̲͚͓͈Ą͙̙̝͕R͔ ̣͓͖̬̣͈͡G҉͏̲O̢̧̤͚D͟҉̱͇̹̰̮ ͙̫̠͚͓͕T̸͚̰͚͔͍̝͚̠H̜͉̟͖̱̤̪͔͝A̭͟T̷̻͖̖̭̱͕ͅ ̤͔̩̹͞͡͝F̹͓̮̀Á͎̦͜͝C̵̶̡̠̖͖̳E͏͙̲͓̹
̥̹̰̱̺́͢
̴̼̼͇̱̤̘̖͉͟͜I͈̬͈̥̖̯͓̜̟S̟̫ ͏͎͓̠͖͕̠͔ͅT̷̬̺̤̭̻̀͡Ḫ̶̥͓̘̰͕͖̯͜A̷̢̞͙T͓͙̝̝̼̹͘ͅ ͎͠S̨͍͍͚̼̳̭͟K͡͏̹̭̪͇̭̣̤͖͈͘I̤͉͇̘̩͖̣Ṉ̶̲̦̼͔̪̮́͜
That shark toothed sneer curls underneath the mask. Those once oceanic blue eyes were replaced with black beads.
“Here we are Quixote.”
The (creature?) speaks and it no longer sounds like William Moor. It doesn’t even sound like Wade. The voice sounds like it’s erupting from the obsidian depths of the lowest part of Hell.
“You know how we got here. I shouldn’t have to recant this tale, but for context, I believe it’s important.”
He giggles underneath his mask. That childish giggle sends unnerving shivers down your tightened spine.
“You look confused. What did you expect, a wild animal? I may look monstrous, but I still work neat. That’s what separates me from the beasts of the plains. I’m not some simple predator, hunting prey for survival. No, I’d rather consider myself a big game hunter. This is sport to me. What I’ve done to you, Quixote, has been so much FUN...but all good things must come to a resolute end, and for you, that comes at Evolution.”
He begins to pace back and forth across the wrecked set, his monstrous frame hulking over you, ten stories tall.
“I’m sure you thought that green mile would take a little longer. It feels like only yesterday you were throwing me over that top rope at the Havoc Rumble and signing your own death certificate. You must be stupid if you believe there would be no consequence to your actions, but you’ve been oh so used to getting away with murder. You were gifted with a silver tongue that I’m sure is priceless. It’s helped you out of more than one sticky situation. It’s going to be a god damn shame when I rip it out of your head at Evolution.
“For all your chest bolstering and bravado, you’ve still been outsmarted by the one person whose number you claim to have; mine. Like the hydra of the sea, every time you cut off a head, three more appear in its place, more cunning, more violent, and much more dangerous than before. I’m an enigma, Quixote, one you thought you would have plenty of time to solve...but time is funny like that.”
f̣̺͜u͈̤͙͖̪͔͔̻̕͘ņ͚̳̣̟̙̮̤̙n̞̲̲̱͎͓͠ͅy̴̹̫͟͟
̨͇͎̞
̖̹̜̮̦̟̜f͏͈̱̜̦̘̦ṵ̻ṋ́͜ṇ̮͕̥̫͡y̨̨̰̩̖̼͠ ̛͓̥̗͡
̢̛̗̣̮͖͜
̪̪̱̳͡f̢̳͔͍̣̕ṷ̷͇͇͙͢͞n̷̶̳̼̜̺̣̕ ̵̶͇̟̫͝ͅ
̶̭͚ͅf͙̗̺̻̠͡͞ù̶̱̱n̸̯̪̲͟͠ ̧͓̰f̘̝͙̭̬̗̞u̷̵͓̩̪̻͡n̖̣̜̩̕͠ ̟͎͓͔͢
̶̣̩̪̜̦̟͢f̢̨͚͇͕̣͈ṷ̝͚͇͘n̶̸̙̺
̨͇͎̞
̖̹̜̮̦̟̜f͏͈̱̜̦̘̦ṵ̻ṋ́͜ṇ̮͕̥̫͡y̨̨̰̩̖̼͠ ̛͓̥̗͡
̢̛̗̣̮͖͜
̪̪̱̳͡f̢̳͔͍̣̕ṷ̷͇͇͙͢͞n̷̶̳̼̜̺̣̕ ̵̶͇̟̫͝ͅ
̶̭͚ͅf͙̗̺̻̠͡͞ù̶̱̱n̸̯̪̲͟͠ ̧͓̰f̘̝͙̭̬̗̞u̷̵͓̩̪̻͡n̖̣̜̩̕͠ ̟͎͓͔͢
̶̣̩̪̜̦̟͢f̢̨͚͇͕̣͈ṷ̝͚͇͘n̶̸̙̺
“Week after week I’ve spent carving out a little space inside your head, a place I could hang my hat at the end of the day, a little hovel I could fall home. It’s warm and snug in there, right next door to adolescent trauma and just around the corner from ‘date rape ideas’. Tell me, does it get mentally and physically exhausting pretending to be somebody you’re not? Your silver tongue can’t save you from your own thoughts, can it? You can convince everyone else your someone else entirely but you can never convince yourself. For a while there, you let the mask slip, you showed everyone your true colors...”
m͕̜͚͔o҉͚̫r̥͙ȩ ̳c͓͎̥u͚͖̩n̹̤͍̤͉͍̤n̥̺̯͙͜i̩̭̭̲͞n͟g̛͎͚̲̲
He starts to wag his finger directly at you, Quixote.
“...but the moment the unwashed, disgusting, plebeian masses showed you an ounce of support, you were back on that grind. La nonviolenza di Quixote. The break was over and you couldn’t be the piece of shit anymore. Not with the big bad wolf knocking on your glass door, not by the hairs on your prepubescent chinny chin chin. Not when you had me to make you SHINE brighter than a diamond. Isn’t it kind of telling when I make your brand of evil feel comfortable? Humanity is familiar, they can relate to it. Now, they fear me, but more importantly, they fear FOR you. They’re afraid of what I’m going to do to you. With good reason, Quixote.
“All you’ve done since then is somehow convince yourself that you’re going to kill the myth. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m no myth. I’m as real as it gets, the boogeyman in the flesh. Everything you’ve heard about me is true, you can fill a cemetery with the skeletons in my closet. HE saved me, showed me the way, made me better. I used to hide what I was away from the world, hoping to blend in, but as apparent as my ability in the ring, everyone knew that I was different. Special? You bet. People like you are a dime a dozen, Quixote. You’re one in ten, I’m once in a lifetime.”
He laughs in the back of his throat.
“No longer will I hide myself away from this world. I plan to embrace who I am, and that makes Sunday night absolutely devastating for you Quixote. All thanks to HIM, I have the opportunity...NO, the privilege of ridding the world of another man in a mask...oh, this?”
He points at his (face?) mask.
“This is just me wearing my monster on my sleeve. You should try it sometime, truly embrace it. It’s wholly refreshing, revolutionary even. Maybe after I’m finished stomping you back into primordial ooze, HE’LL fix you too. HE thinks you’re ready, but HE must finish fixing me first. This match is all part of my healing process now. I can’t fully move on until you’re beaten into a shadow of Quixote Della Torre, and I’m going to make what your father did to you seem trivial. Loving. I’ll make the last six weeks look like funny jokes in comparison. Well laugh about it later, but first, I have to apologize to you one last time...because Evolution is really going to fucking hurt.”
He cracks his gloved knuckles, the friction of the leather squeaks as well.
“What do you have over me other than one lucky elimination at the Havoc Rumble? You broke my record, it was bound to happen eventually. It’s just numbers digitized in the ether...but when I broke the record, I went on to win the entire damn match. That’s not luck, Quixote. That’s undeniable skill. Something that you’re still trying to prove to everyone and yourself you have, I have over in spades. You can try and make light of my professional achievements, but the things I’ve done to men far more accomplished than you can’t be forgotten. I get that it’s easier to pretend they haven’t happened. Turn the lights off and maybe the boogeyman will go away?
“Surprise!”
He throws his hands out and confetti blasts everywhere - but the confetti is oddly fleshlike, and some of it hits the ground with a flesh “SCHLOP!” sound. Hit sneer bends sharky once more.
“I’m still here...and I’m NEVER GOING AWAY! My opponents always think they’ve become Wade-Wise, but then I find new and interesting ways to destroy them. I find new and interesting ways to call them into question, put them on trial, find them guilty of being below me, and then sentence them to evisceration. Of course, HE gave me a nudge in the right direction, but this was inside of me all along. This power that belongs to US. I get so excited thinking about it I cou̷͓̬̳̪͓͓̥̥͢͜͢͡l͝҉̴͕̭̩͕͔͍̥̖̱͖̼̕d̡͙̥̲̩̱͔̘̞̀͘̕ just P͟͏̷̡̜̟̖̙̠̗͕͜Ơ̵̸̭͕͉̻̥̘̞̳̺͔̘͈̩̣̖̲P̵͈̩̼͕̭̗̰̱͇͈͕̳͍!̦͖̰̼̖͉́́͟͡”
m̛͎͖̳͟o̵̸͕͖̯͞ŕ͏̲̝͇͘e͈̥̟̦̻͢ ̸̴̦͉v̵̳̱̯̙̩i̸̭̥̻̜̣͉̮̰͝o̝͚̥͓̥l̰̤͇͚̳ę͏̹͎̫̝̦n̘̤̦̹̱̘t
“Couldn’t you, Quixote? You have to admit, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you, right? A chance to go toe to toe with the ONLY PILLAR in Action Wrestling? You might think you have everything to gain in this- win or lose - but you forgot to take into account what this match might cost you. You’re so D̷͉̜͈͙͇̉͗ͪͧ͊ͣͫͫ͒͋̓̍ͩ́̿̾̀͟ͅE̎̊̓́̔ͪ͐ͤ͛ͪ͐͆̅͆̿̅͛̿ͤ҉̶̣͕̟̪̠͎͙̦͔̥̦̱̘̰͝A̷ͥ̋ͫͥ͐ͦ̋́͆̋͞҉̻̟̲̰̲̜͇̣̯̘͈̯̯D̘̠̙̼͕̖̤̣͙̫̠̬̮͉̤̮ͯ̃̿͜͝ͅͅ set on your victory, that the possibility of loss never occurred to you.”
He starts to count on (talon clawed) fingers.
“Adoration of the people.”
He sneers.
“Your career.”
He guffaws.
“The ability to walk and speak.”
He chuckles a deep belly laugh.
“The ability to chew solid food.”
He’s breaking out in absolute hysterics now and falls to his knees. With wheezing laughs he begins to hit the floor as hard as he possibly can. For a split second his eyes turn blue, and the tone changes fearful. He barely utters a syllable before his eyes slunk back into his skull once more and those endless obsidian circles return. The feed cuts to (DEAR GOD HIS FACE) static.
m̷͕̝͇̪̰̞ͧ͐̀̒͢o͂̊ͬͧ̿̄ͩ͊̽̆̄̅ͯͥ͢҉̢̪̘̳͈͖̙͙̩̣̙̺̙͕͈̬̕r̴̡̮̘̜͙̩͍͕̼͈͎͇̻̰̹̰̠̟̄̈́͋̃̋͗ͧ̏̒ͭ͘͟͟e̵͂̀ͬ̊͋͊̐̌ͣ͐͊͗̈͏̙̞̼̠ ̢͔͍̦̦͎̹̙͗̾̋̈́̕̕͢d̢̧̰̫̫͖͛ͬ̏ͥ̍̐ͯ̽ͤ́͛ͨą̶͚͈͉̙̠̝̜͍͈̥̥͐̏ͣ̍͑ͥ̊ͬͯ̑̄n̷̸̸̪̱̱̲͓̩̮̜̗̗̯͔̘̼͈̫̜̝ͪ͑̒̿̃̾̽̀̔̊̑́͌͢ģ̖̟̪̺̲̰̭ͧͮ̑̒͑ͦ̿ͥ͟͝ẹ̴̣̲͍̝̗̫̜̻̞̱̽̅͛͆̓̅̍͗̍ͦ͗͗͑ͭ͜͜ŕ̒͋͌͌̇̒̄͏̷̵̸̛̣̟̖̱̬͔̹o̸̡̡̢̹̯̩̪̖̝͎̟̗̣̺͎͙̠̹͛̋ͯ̾ͮ̒͑ͥ̇̐̉̔ͯͣ̍̅ͫ̀̚ͅu͖̭͙̪̜̪̠̭͎̓ͥͬ̐̊ͨ͗̏ͦ̑̈́̈́ͦ̿ͦͫͮ̿͘͝s
The static cuts away and we’re back with his toothy grin. He holds up his hands in mock surrender, his right hand dripping steadily with blood.
“Sorry about that, a little technical difficulty, but we’re back with this scheduled verbal decimation of Quixote Della Torre. Hopefully, I have you a little bit to think over with that loss stuff there. Maybe then this will all start to click inside your feeble mind. The things I’ve done to you, the physical attacks, exposing you, they’ve all served their purpose, the means to an end, which is having you one hundred percent laser focused on this match at Evolution. I found the only way to have somebody at their undisputed best is to make things personal...so when I completely dismantle them in the ring, there’s no question who is better.
“Evolution is a fitting name, don’t you think Quixote? I’m tipping the evolutionary scales walking into this match. When I walk, the earth cracks under foot. When I bathe, the ocean eats up the world. The sun eclipses and the earth turns black, on end, and everyone slips into Hell’s gaping maw. After Evolution...Action Wrestling - hell, the world - will never be the same.”
He starts to laugh once more, the laughing fit once again sending him into unquenchable hysteria. A tidal wave of balloons start to float up from underneath him, this time with a different inscription.
Q̧̢̪̭̺͢ù̧͚͎̖̮͡i͇̲̻̼̬x҉̗ò͇̦͈̣t̰̪̘͈͔̝͠e̡̖̻̭ ͎̪̬D̷͔ͅe̤̳̠͖͍̠̰̩͞l̛̤͎͕͕̬͡l̨̞͙̲a̷̲̻̤̩͖̟͍ ̥̹͈͜T̷͕̦̟̼͜͡ǫ͈̙̳͈͓̣̣͞ŕ̥̯̜́͠r͓̕͢e̠̞̱̼̳͘
͝͏̤̟̻̰̱̯͚̯́1̷̦̪͇̝̻̯͖̱ͅ9̡̬͔̫͈9̶̫̬̟̰̲̭9̪́͟-̸̝̱̹͢2̥̦̬̘̻͎̝̯0̴̴̟̙͕͈̣͕1̴̯̗͙͎̗̜̙ͅ9̨̫̼̭̙̙͙̻́
͝͏̤̟̻̰̱̯͚̯́1̷̦̪͇̝̻̯͖̱ͅ9̡̬͔̫͈9̶̫̬̟̰̲̭9̪́͟-̸̝̱̹͢2̥̦̬̘̻͎̝̯0̴̴̟̙͕͈̣͕1̴̯̗͙͎̗̜̙ͅ9̨̫̼̭̙̙͙̻́
🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
The streetlights illuminated themselves precisely at 7:30 PM, just as the sun started to set. The boy walked down the street, his hair unruly, his shirt a mess, ripped jeans led down his legs to scuffed boots. “I don’t give a god(nilla) damn though”, he thought to himself as he continued down the street, whistling a tune to a song he didn’t entirely know, but it sounded good and he could fuck on that.
There was nowhere in particular this boy had to be tonight, the World was his for the taking. No parents, no home, unlimited possibilities. He wandered further down the road, not knowing where this one and the next would take him. A man stood on his wrap around porch at the end of the road. The house looked familiar to the boy, but he wasn’t sure where it was from. All he could remember was the taste of metal in his mouth and the color red. The man waved friendly as he came up to the house.
“Hey kid”, he said, “Get on home now. You shouldn’t be out this late anyways. A lot of weirdos come out at night, I’ve heard.”
“You’re out at night”, the boy replied.
The man smiled. A strange crooked smile.
“Good point”, he said, “But so are you.”
The man curled his fingers together, like a spider catching its prey.
“Good point.”
The boy huffed as he replied. Something about that made him feel weird inside. His guts started to bubble a little like he had to use the bathroom something fierce.
“Why the long face?” The man asked, “Something got you down?”
The boy wasn’t sure if he should say, but there was something about the mans face that was very friendly. Familiar, even. The boy walked a little closer, stopping about nine feet from the porch.
“I just feel funny, is all”, the boy replied.
“Oh, that’s the L̫͖̲͈ͅE̳̩͔̩͡V̛̝͈̙̺̘̣̳̟̦I̮̱͚̳̪̦̺͕̕A̧̩̬͓͇ͅT̟͍̫̝͙̯̗Ḥ̨͙̙̭̦̜͢͟A̱͍̜͎̬̫N̡̹̱̳̟̩̺̞͝ ̨̯͓C̸̸͙̲̻̦L̳̹̦̫͙͎͚̞A̡̱͎̫̮̞̗͕͕͜W͇̤͜͝I̙͓̰͞N̰͈̞͠G̨̢̭̻ ̀͏͍̰̻̮̯̬̬̥͎I̧̝͖̞̟̳͉̣T̫̰̱͎͔̟͖̲́S̨͕̣̦͞ͅ ̗̣̤́͡W̵̯͎͍̞A̷̟͈̣͔͘Y̢̮̦̝̻̼̼͕͔̣ ̴̷̡̩͍O҉̠̼̰͈̱̘͕͔͉U͏̼͎̪͍̠̺͕̝͠T̖̣̘̼̖̺́͡͠ ̛̛͍̦̺̕I̟̳̦̯̗̩͉ͅS̵̸͖͎̟̟̫̪̲N͏̯̟͓͚̞̮͢T̡̲͚̻̟̠͟ ̻̜̥͕͙͡Į̵͎͙͢T̙͔̰̲̯͔̖̦̟͝ ̢̛̠̝̗̗̖͞E̢̺̣̫̮͙͖͠͠X̛̯C̛̘̗I̸̬͖̟T̴̛̳̝͙͇I̲̲͓N̡̥͇̦͟͡G̡͙͔̗̞̩͈͎̭͝͡”
The boy was taken aback, he wasn’t quite sure what the man had said. It scratched the inside of his head like a hook fastening around his brain.
“What did you say?”, the boy asked, his ears ringing loud with static.
“I said it’s probably just nerves”, he replied, “Must’ve spooked you about the W̷҉͏̟͉̞̮͈̳͇ͅE̮̳Í̡̜͉̮̤͉̪R̷̸͍͕͔̯̼͇D̴̪̜̀͜O͢͏̜̪͖͇̫̭̲S. What’s your name boy?”
The boy was frightened now. His skin was boiling with fear as his legs wobbled.
“W-w-wade”, he stuttered.
He looked down at the ground as a gush of blood spat from his nose. He tried to scream but no sound came out.
“Probably just nerves”, the man repeated, his crooked smile now upside down.
The boy hit the ground and passed out.
THE L̫͖̲͈ͅE̳̩͔̩͡V̛̝͈̙̺̘̣̳̟̦I̮̱͚̳̪̦̺͕̕A̧̩̬͓͇ͅT̟͍̫̝͙̯̗Ḥ̨͙̙̭̦̜͢͟A̱͍̜͎̬̫N̡̹̱̳̟̩̺̞͝ ̨̯͓C̸̸͙̲̻̦L̳̹̦̫͙͎͚̞A̡̱͎̫̮̞̗͕͕͜W͇̤͜͝I̙͓̰͞N̰͈̞͠G̨̢̭̻ ̀͏͍̰̻̮̯̬̬̥͎I̧̝͖̞̟̳͉̣T̫̰̱͎͔̟͖̲́S̨͕̣̦͞ͅ ̗̣̤́͡W̵̯͎͍̞A̷̟͈̣͔͘Y̢̮̦̝̻̼̼͕͔̣ ̴̷̡̩͍O҉̠̼̰͈̱̘͕͔͉U͏̼͎̪͍̠̺͕̝͠T̖̣̘̼̖̺́͡͠ ̛̛͍̦̺̕I̟̳̦̯̗̩͉ͅS̵̸͖͎̟̟̫̪̲N͏̯̟͓͚̞̮͢T̡̲͚̻̟̠͟ ̻̜̥͕͙͡Į̵͎͙͢T̙͔̰̲̯͔̖̦̟͝ ̢̛̠̝̗̗̖͞E̢̺̣̫̮͙͖͠͠X̛̯C̛̘̗I̸̬͖̟T̴̛̳̝͙͇I̲̲͓N̡̥͇̦͟͡G̡͙͔̗̞̩͈͎̭͝͡
🎈
🎈🎈
🎈🎈🎈
🎈🎈🎈🎈
🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈
Wade awoke sometime later, face up, staring at an opulent, steepled ceiling. He turned over to get his bearings and look for the man...but instead, a woman lay next to him. He only saw the back of her head, but her blonde hair was familiar. He sunk into her, feeling her warmth. He used his hand - now the size of a full grown mans - to caress her side. She wriggled against his touch, sighing, and pushed herself into him. He felt like he could stay there forever.
“Probably just nerves”, she said, but it wasn’t her voice.
His heart skipped several beats as he whipped her over to face him, but only the hollow eyes of a decayed skull with a crooked smile met his gaze. He bounded back at the revelation and crashed to the floor. Immediately, the hardwood slowly started to swallow him whole. He thrashed against the pressure but it was no use. His heart raced as the bodies decayed fingers gripped over the edge of the bed and grabbed a handful of sheets. It pulled itself off the edge of the bed and hit the ground with a sick deadweight thud.
The body started to crawl towards him, it’s unhinged snapping vigorously, coming close to his face. He closed his eyes to accept his fate, but the squishy gnashing sound stopped. He opened them expecting to see the corpses’ face one more time before it ended him, but instead the man was bent comically down towards his face. It was the man but it wasn’t because his face was covered in a smeared layer of greasepaint, as if he applied it hastily, that crooked smile shining through it all.
“Helloooooo Wade”, he spoke, “Having FUN yet?”
Wade wanted to replied, but for the first time in a long time, he was terrified. Sweat dripped quickly down his face as his heart thumped against his breast bone.
“No need to talk, now”, he said as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and crossed his thin, spidery legs, “I can hear your thoughts. Feel what you’re feeling. Your reality can be whatever I want it to be.”
He snapped his bony, taloned fingers and transported them into an interrogation room. Now the man was dressed like a hard boiled detective, that greasepaint still smeared on his face. Wade looked down at his hands, now cuffed to a metal bar on the table. He pulled with all his might and the cuffs snapped as the man started to retreat in fear, and huddled in the corner.
Wade approached him, seething, but two pairs of hands gripped his biceps and pulled him back down into his chair. Their grips were vice like, keeping him held firmly in place. The man started to laugh and dance around the room. He did several twirls before stopping on his tippy toes and leaning in towards Wade’s face, his expression serious.
“You’re gonna tell me what I want to hear, schee”, he said as he jabbed his pointy fingers into Wade’s sternum, each one with the intensity of a full force punch.
“What...”, Wade tried to speak, but his breaths were shallow, “...what do...you want...from me?”
“Well, my friend”, the man replied, now back in his normal voice, “There’s something just inside here...”
He pointed his finger, his hand now shaped like a pistol, onto Wade’s temple. His touched seared his skin and caused Wade to groan in agony.
“...that I can’t get to. Protected by you. The last little bastion of humanity inside you is putting up one hell of a fight. There must be something REALLY GOOD in there if you don’t want me to have it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about...”
The man slammed his fist down and cracked the metal table into two symmetrical pieces.
“T̸̹͙̝̦̭́Ḫ̡͟A̸͉̙͜T̶͙̙̱S̙̘͚̹̜̥̭̣ ͟͏̨̩͈̫͔̤N̝͠O̷̼͔͕̱̳̟͢T̵̫̟̱̣ͅ ̀͏̺̜͎W̧̮̣̗̕H̜̭͖̘͇͍͙͝͡A̜̗͔̥̺̥̫͠T͉̝̭̣̯̮̥̼͝ ̴̨̼̭͢I͖̮̻̳̦̻ ̮̣̼W͏͖͖̰̬͝A͏̞̼͈̕͠N͍̤͙̮̕T̠̘̭̯͖̱̬ ̴̴̪͈͍͇̹̩T͚͉̥̫̖̣́͜O҉̷̼̯͝ ̠̠̭̞̳̗̗͡H̼̘̠̻̗́Ḛ̬̼̤͘͢A̵̪̼͎͕̕R̵͙̣͍̞͟͡!” he shouted, his voice erupting from somewhere deadly.
Suddenly, the man disappeared, and in his place was a giant static box tube screen. It started playing scenes before him, the blonde girl was there and the man was strangling her, beating her, fucking her...
“STOP!” Wade shouted, his voice exasperated, done, “What do you want to hear?”
“Now I can get in there”, the man replied, now standing in front of him until he closes the distance and sits on his lap. He presses his finger against his forehead one more time, “But you have to really believe that I can. I need you to let me in, Wade. Let me in so I can let you out. I can help you Wade. It’s either that or this...”
He waves his hand back towards the static tube once more, but Wade shakes his head once more and it lops down to his side.
“No. I can’t”, Wade replied, “Whatever it is...its yours.”
The man smiled that bent, sharklike grin and snapped his fingers one more time. He disappeared and a thousand balloons took his place, all inscribed with the same sentence.
THE L̫͖̲͈ͅE̳̩͔̩͡V̛̝͈̙̺̘̣̳̟̦I̮̱͚̳̪̦̺͕̕A̧̩̬͓͇ͅT̟͍̫̝͙̯̗Ḥ̨͙̙̭̦̜͢͟A̱͍̜͎̬̫N̡̹̱̳̟̩̺̞͝ ̨̯͓C̸̸͙̲̻̦L̳̹̦̫͙͎͚̞A̡̱͎̫̮̞̗͕͕͜W͇̤͜͝I̙͓̰͞N̰͈̞͠G̨̢̭̻ ̀͏͍̰̻̮̯̬̬̥͎I̧̝͖̞̟̳͉̣T̫̰̱͎͔̟͖̲́S̨͕̣̦͞ͅ ̗̣̤́͡W̵̯͎͍̞A̷̟͈̣͔͘Y̢̮̦̝̻̼̼͕͔̣ ̴̷̡̩͍O҉̠̼̰͈̱̘͕͔͉U͏̼͎̪͍̠̺͕̝͠T̖̣̘̼̖̺́͡͠ ̛̛͍̦̺̕I̟̳̦̯̗̩͉ͅS̵̸͖͎̟̟̫̪̲N͏̯̟͓͚̞̮͢T̡̲͚̻̟̠͟ ̻̜̥͕͙͡Į̵͎͙͢T̙͔̰̲̯͔̖̦̟͝ ̢̛̠̝̗̗̖͞E̢̺̣̫̮͙͖͠͠X̛̯C̛̘̗I̸̬͖̟T̴̛̳̝͙͇I̲̲͓N̡̥͇̦͟͡G̡͙͔̗̞̩͈͎̭͝͡
Wade let sleep take him once more, silently wishing that it would take him forever.