Post by Wade Moor on Mar 21, 2018 11:56:22 GMT -5
“We need you to understand everything in this contract you’re signing, Wade”, Gravediggers taut voice spoke, his professionally tailored three piece suit cultivating the entrepreneurial persona, only the tattoos creeping up underneath his sleeve giving way to the gangster baptized in blood on the streets.
Wade fucked with it. He knew it. He could get down with that and do the funky chicken widdit.
“Signing this guarantees you a very lucrative contract”, Torture interjected, “Something along the lines of nearly a hundred million dollar buy out, provided longevity...but you won’t be able to compete in a WCF arena, televised or non as long as you are under contract.”
Wade eye fucked Torture’s soul, holding his hands up in temple in front of him. They wanted to talk GAWDNILLA? He was about to take these white collar boys to church.
“I would believe you two know me better than that”, Wade replied, “A LOT better than that. Have I ever stricken you as somebody materialistic? The glove box of Bonnie’s Ranchero is stacked with paychecks I haven’t cashed yet. When I sat down with you, I don’t believe I mentioned money once, though you had no qualms throwing it at me. There was only one thing on a Godnilla’s mind; competition.”
Wade licks his lips, whetted his chops, rolled a blunt, and blazed a blunt all in one swift motion.
“WCF could no longer offer this to me. You think I would just walk away from one of the most prolific Tag Teams in WCF history? I would just step away from assured Tag Team gold? Let me tell you something, I was so comfortable there, I was uncomfortable. I started to get that itch, and when I watched your show, I knew just where Wade Moor needed to be. When the opportunity to forge a path of my own, to leave a lasting legacy was in my sight? You bet your ass I would walk away from it all. I’d come running when it called. I’ve been in the ring with you. Both of you. Beat both of you. You know just how dangerous I am. Now I’m at the prime of my career, the absolute pinnacle of my game, now just wonder how dangerous I can be.”
Wade exhaled the last plume of smoke from his blunt and swallowed the roach because fuck a bitch who litters. You only got one Earth motherfucker, recognize that shit. He lifted the hundred dollar pen on top of the contract, clicked it, and signed his name on the dotted line - then pocketed that pen because it was good shit. Torture and Gravedigger both beamed Cheshire smiles, wrapping the folder up and sending it off to be filed.
“Any questions, Wade?” Gravedigger asked.
“Yeah”, Wade snorted, “Whose first?”
The dirt kicked up beneath their boots as Wade and Bonnie walked through a makeshift carnival, though mostly resembling a freak show of some sort - or Hell, it could’ve just been Reno, ammirite? Either way, the two seemed to be rather enjoying themselves, drinking wine out of REDUCE cups and fucking about with the carny games, even though we all know it’s just rigged bullshit to get betas to blow their hard earned scheckels on a bitch who ain’t gonna give it up anyways so “don’t even ask”.
Not Wade though, they blasted through about ten of them, each leaving a flustered look upon the face of the taskmaster, while simultaneously imbibing various gifts for Wade to dote upon the Queenest of Bitches with. And uh, he was gonna get some, my nillas. She was too, make no mistakes about it, fam. Such were the lives of a couple of hyper-sexualized, grandmasters of the squared circle.
“Feel like the new kid in school still or nah?” Bonnie teased, gently poking The Leviathan in his ribs with the sharp crook of her elbow.
“Shut up”, Wade replied, a huge smile plastered on his face, “Thing about being a shark is you’re never out of water. Plenty of good eatins...chum too, iffin that’s your shit.”
“Speakin’ of good eatins’”, Bonnie said as she licked her lips and headed towards the smell of bread dipped in fat sizzling in a deep fryer.
“I just cut all that extra weight”, Wade said as he slapped his now formative abdominal muscles.
“You can afford a fuckin’ cheat day, come on”, she said, “We’re at the circus!”
She ordered a cinnamon sugar and walked towards him, smacking her lips on purpose to annoy him a little. He decided against throwing her treat on the ground and instead took it from her, eating it just to piss her off a little instead. You know those games couples played, except this one ended in leg locks and body slams, and boy, we ain’t talkin’ rasslin’.
“But for real”, she said while snatching that delicious sugar gluten bomb back from a Godnilla, “How you feelin’ bein’ in Action Wrestling?”
“This an interview?” Wade asked, “You tryna put our boi Shia out of work?! You know that Transformers money about to run out!”
“Just tryin’ to get a pulse on how GawdKingNillas feelin’” Bonnie replied, “Change can be dauntin’”
“The only thing that’s changed is the sea of competitors that will collect and submit at our feet”, Wade returned, “And no offense to Dune, but I have far bigger fish to clench in the maw than some bum ass Lesbian Alliance Tag Team riff-raff. Anywhere I am, I’m going to be the best. Why squander that piddling around in the midcard? Now that I’m here in Action Wrestling, I only have my sights set on one goal; the World Championship, and it doesn’t matter who I have to go through to get to it.”
“Even me?” Bonnie asked, playing innocent while doing an exaggerated fluttering motion with her mile long lashes.
“If it came down to it”, Wade retorted, “I know you wouldn’t step aside for me, and I’d expect the absolute best out of you in that ring. You know you’d get it from me.”
“Of course”, Bonnie agreed while taking another bite of her fried bread, “What about Pasternak? That Slav kid you dropped on his noggin? What was that all about?”
“You know it was the damndest thing”, Wade answered, “I’m just standing back there in gorilla, waiting for my slotted time, feeling that pre rush of adrenaline coursin’ through my veins...then I see this kid out there in his Abibos track shants feelin’ his oats on some whack ass victory and I think to myself...why not give him a rub.”
“Head against mat isn’t exactly what they meant by ‘rub’”, Bonnie said.
“I may be playin’ a little fast and loose with the definition, but now everyone is talking about Alexander Pasternak”, Wade countered, “He wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for Wade Moor. A lot more effective than me just showin’ up, and it sent a powerful message.”
“Which was?” Bonnie asked.
“Action Wrestling can consider its doorbell officially rung”, Wade answered, “That was just my first night here. Think of what I can do with my foot in the door, what I can accomplish, I want you to think long and hard about that Ms. Zefare. Can you do that? Are you capable of coherent, independent thought? Or does that script that Jackdaw has you reading off of really speak to you that deeply?”
“Jackdaw?!” Bonnie interjected, “That guy looks like he’s about a second away from chimin’ in with haven’t you people ever heard of closing the god damn door.”
“Good shits, Bonnie”, Wade replied, "Good shits, indeed. For some reason, my illustrious stints in any professional wrestling industry have begun with a bird. More specifically, crows. What’s the obsession? Truly, I don’t get it. Jackdaw literally translates to ‘small bird’. It doesn’t make you a citizen of the world, just completely full of shit. At least you have a few things in common; you’re both big talkers, opportunistic bottom feeders, and when you see something shiny you come swoopin’ in for a nab at it.
“Unfortunately for Carnica, Wade Moor the bird killah - though it was never proven in a court of law - was there to greet ya. Decided he didn’t want any more pests, disease ridden rodents with wings flapping about in his house. Your client will be in my house Monday Night at Clash, and without a doubt she’s facing her biggest challenge yet. She won’t have you to pull the strings then, it’ll just be her and I in that fifteen by twenty.
“Something tells me you would prefer that Carnica. Beneath the pomp and masquerade, I see you for the woman that you are, struggling desperately to make anything for herself in some trying days, for sure. Something tells me there are days when The Jackdaw didn’t recognize you for what you truly are; weak of mind mind, body, and soul. He’s pulling strings on some cosmic trip now, wishing he could be a factor in our match up, but doesn’t know he’s pulling tricks from a book that Gawdnilla wrote, in another day and life. He doesn’t know how far ahead of the curve I am, Daddy Jackdaw chose the wrong place to come to roost.
“I’m assuming it was him who fed you this far up the chain? After your uh - let’s call it a humbling - at Revolution, I’d figure you would want to toil with the serfs some more, not approach the King in his castle? It seems the puppet master has larger dreams of grandeur and believes there are no limits to what you deserve. Too bad that’s led you straight to me, otherwise things might have been different for you here in Action Wrestling.
“Somebody I used to know always said that there are levels to this shit. There is a reason they signed me to such a ridiculous contract, it’s because they know I can go out there and deliver the goods. You’ve had two weeks to do something, anything of note my dear and you’ve pissed the opportunity away. I’ve made an impact just by dumping that poor gopnik on his brainer. I put more eyes on Action Wrestling by shutting off those lights then you’ve had with all of them on you. There’s a little somethin’ in this industry called the IT factor and you just ain’t got it.
“Sure, you can do all the fancy acrobatics and your body bends in ways that are simultaneously discomforting - but also worth trying. The truth though? In the grand scheme of things, it offers little more than a few gasps. Nobody left the arena talking about you. You amounted to nothing more than a circus act, a puppet on a high wire, perilously close to falling off the radar. Jackdaw asked for me because he figured you could chalk one up here, but he never figured you just weren’t ready for this shit.
“Stepping into the ring with me, I attack more than just your person, I attack your character. I attack your integrity. I attack your courage. I make you question your values and performance, I break your mind and your body. I’ll even invite The Jackdaw to shut his pompous mouth and question everything about himself. This is the power I hold in just words...do you even need to think about the power I hold in my hands? “
Wade and Bonnie continue through the carnival, making their way to a funhouse, but it more so resembles the house Wade grew up in. The dilapidated cabin spoke to his wandering soul, whispering for him to come inside, if he dared. He looked at the funhouse, then around the rest of the carnival, which seemed to dim in a world of gray. The sounds lowered to a dull roar as a cold chill blew through the fairgrounds. The two of them stepped through the wide threshold that closed up behind them as they did.
A box television greeted them upon entry, whirring to life in a hiss of black and grey static, and a face resembling The Jackdaw’s appeared on screen through a hazy video recording.
“Can’t even spring for HD?” Bonnie quipped.
“Shame”, Wade replied.
“Let me show-show-show you...”, the recording skipped as the effigy took a dramatic pose, “...my treasure.”
“Can I get an adult?” Bonnie joked.
The recording hissed and whirred once more, this time revealing a girl dressed like a crust punk on the line in Portland, though she still cawed with the voice of The Jackdaw.
“Inelegant egotist. Inelegant egotist”
The recording repeated itself a few times before phasing out to a hiss of static once more. Another door opened beyond the television set and the duo crossed through it, into a wall of mirrors. Bonnie seemed to be frozen in place, entranced in the funhouse mirrors. Wade was wondering what she was staring at as he glimpsed into the reflections himself.
A wall before him, four mirrors placed unsymmetrically - coulda been the weed though, it was pretty good schwindle - showed Wade visions. Set before him we’re past and present versions of himself, staring into the gaunt of his past was harrowing, barely comin’ out of the experience alive...but he did. He was here, staring before himself, unable to recognize the man he used to be.
Mirrors around him began to transform into television screens, the same static hiss whirring throughout the hall of mirrors. The crust punk - or circus steampunk whateva da fawk that is - appeared once more, repeating the same phrase over and over again.
“Inelegant egotist. Inelegant egotist.”
The screens changed back into reflections...and this time Wade saw visions of the future - damn that bid was A fuckin’ plus. He stood before himself, a King in the Castle, a GAWDNILLA among men, AW World Championship sling over his meaty shoulder, an aura of success waxed upon his grizzly maw.
“I have to say, the smoke and mirrors are pretty fuckin’ dope, it’s served me well in my day, but this isn’t going to be easy for you. You’re not going to get the upset victory. This is Carnica Zefare: Duty in the Face of Defeat. This is Wade Moor: The Ascent. It isn’t ego when you can back your shit up. That’s called confidence. Something you lack in your most primitive human form, let alone in my ring. You’re a jester in the Kings Court, a fuckin’ fool of the highest order. Oh ah, a Gawdnilla’s preachin’ to you now so you will listen. If you come away with anything from this chance meeting on my climb to the top, let it be this; you will not be the same after getting into that ring with me. This isn’t a circus act. This is the real thing. Wade Moor straight stomping you into your next existence. That’s how I get down gurl, that’s the only way I’ve ever known. You haven’t impressed, but Ill give you your greatest performance yet at Clash, while I’m beating the ever loving shit out of you.
“And I don’t care whoever holds that World Championship after Battleground, just know that I’m coming directly for you. It doesn’t matter who I have to tread and trod over to get my shot at the title. Who I have to drop these warheads on. Action Wrestling. Batten down the hatches and pray for shelter from the blast...Worlds Most Dangerous Style has arrived.”
Wade fucked with it. He knew it. He could get down with that and do the funky chicken widdit.
“Signing this guarantees you a very lucrative contract”, Torture interjected, “Something along the lines of nearly a hundred million dollar buy out, provided longevity...but you won’t be able to compete in a WCF arena, televised or non as long as you are under contract.”
Wade eye fucked Torture’s soul, holding his hands up in temple in front of him. They wanted to talk GAWDNILLA? He was about to take these white collar boys to church.
“I would believe you two know me better than that”, Wade replied, “A LOT better than that. Have I ever stricken you as somebody materialistic? The glove box of Bonnie’s Ranchero is stacked with paychecks I haven’t cashed yet. When I sat down with you, I don’t believe I mentioned money once, though you had no qualms throwing it at me. There was only one thing on a Godnilla’s mind; competition.”
Wade licks his lips, whetted his chops, rolled a blunt, and blazed a blunt all in one swift motion.
“WCF could no longer offer this to me. You think I would just walk away from one of the most prolific Tag Teams in WCF history? I would just step away from assured Tag Team gold? Let me tell you something, I was so comfortable there, I was uncomfortable. I started to get that itch, and when I watched your show, I knew just where Wade Moor needed to be. When the opportunity to forge a path of my own, to leave a lasting legacy was in my sight? You bet your ass I would walk away from it all. I’d come running when it called. I’ve been in the ring with you. Both of you. Beat both of you. You know just how dangerous I am. Now I’m at the prime of my career, the absolute pinnacle of my game, now just wonder how dangerous I can be.”
Wade exhaled the last plume of smoke from his blunt and swallowed the roach because fuck a bitch who litters. You only got one Earth motherfucker, recognize that shit. He lifted the hundred dollar pen on top of the contract, clicked it, and signed his name on the dotted line - then pocketed that pen because it was good shit. Torture and Gravedigger both beamed Cheshire smiles, wrapping the folder up and sending it off to be filed.
“Any questions, Wade?” Gravedigger asked.
“Yeah”, Wade snorted, “Whose first?”
"Oh now I do recall
We were just getting to the part
Where the shock sets in
And the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick"
We were just getting to the part
Where the shock sets in
And the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick"
The dirt kicked up beneath their boots as Wade and Bonnie walked through a makeshift carnival, though mostly resembling a freak show of some sort - or Hell, it could’ve just been Reno, ammirite? Either way, the two seemed to be rather enjoying themselves, drinking wine out of REDUCE cups and fucking about with the carny games, even though we all know it’s just rigged bullshit to get betas to blow their hard earned scheckels on a bitch who ain’t gonna give it up anyways so “don’t even ask”.
Not Wade though, they blasted through about ten of them, each leaving a flustered look upon the face of the taskmaster, while simultaneously imbibing various gifts for Wade to dote upon the Queenest of Bitches with. And uh, he was gonna get some, my nillas. She was too, make no mistakes about it, fam. Such were the lives of a couple of hyper-sexualized, grandmasters of the squared circle.
“Feel like the new kid in school still or nah?” Bonnie teased, gently poking The Leviathan in his ribs with the sharp crook of her elbow.
“Shut up”, Wade replied, a huge smile plastered on his face, “Thing about being a shark is you’re never out of water. Plenty of good eatins...chum too, iffin that’s your shit.”
“Speakin’ of good eatins’”, Bonnie said as she licked her lips and headed towards the smell of bread dipped in fat sizzling in a deep fryer.
“I just cut all that extra weight”, Wade said as he slapped his now formative abdominal muscles.
“You can afford a fuckin’ cheat day, come on”, she said, “We’re at the circus!”
She ordered a cinnamon sugar and walked towards him, smacking her lips on purpose to annoy him a little. He decided against throwing her treat on the ground and instead took it from her, eating it just to piss her off a little instead. You know those games couples played, except this one ended in leg locks and body slams, and boy, we ain’t talkin’ rasslin’.
“But for real”, she said while snatching that delicious sugar gluten bomb back from a Godnilla, “How you feelin’ bein’ in Action Wrestling?”
“This an interview?” Wade asked, “You tryna put our boi Shia out of work?! You know that Transformers money about to run out!”
“Just tryin’ to get a pulse on how GawdKingNillas feelin’” Bonnie replied, “Change can be dauntin’”
“The only thing that’s changed is the sea of competitors that will collect and submit at our feet”, Wade returned, “And no offense to Dune, but I have far bigger fish to clench in the maw than some bum ass Lesbian Alliance Tag Team riff-raff. Anywhere I am, I’m going to be the best. Why squander that piddling around in the midcard? Now that I’m here in Action Wrestling, I only have my sights set on one goal; the World Championship, and it doesn’t matter who I have to go through to get to it.”
“Even me?” Bonnie asked, playing innocent while doing an exaggerated fluttering motion with her mile long lashes.
“If it came down to it”, Wade retorted, “I know you wouldn’t step aside for me, and I’d expect the absolute best out of you in that ring. You know you’d get it from me.”
“Of course”, Bonnie agreed while taking another bite of her fried bread, “What about Pasternak? That Slav kid you dropped on his noggin? What was that all about?”
“You know it was the damndest thing”, Wade answered, “I’m just standing back there in gorilla, waiting for my slotted time, feeling that pre rush of adrenaline coursin’ through my veins...then I see this kid out there in his Abibos track shants feelin’ his oats on some whack ass victory and I think to myself...why not give him a rub.”
“Head against mat isn’t exactly what they meant by ‘rub’”, Bonnie said.
“I may be playin’ a little fast and loose with the definition, but now everyone is talking about Alexander Pasternak”, Wade countered, “He wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for Wade Moor. A lot more effective than me just showin’ up, and it sent a powerful message.”
“Which was?” Bonnie asked.
“Action Wrestling can consider its doorbell officially rung”, Wade answered, “That was just my first night here. Think of what I can do with my foot in the door, what I can accomplish, I want you to think long and hard about that Ms. Zefare. Can you do that? Are you capable of coherent, independent thought? Or does that script that Jackdaw has you reading off of really speak to you that deeply?”
“Jackdaw?!” Bonnie interjected, “That guy looks like he’s about a second away from chimin’ in with haven’t you people ever heard of closing the god damn door.”
“Good shits, Bonnie”, Wade replied, "Good shits, indeed. For some reason, my illustrious stints in any professional wrestling industry have begun with a bird. More specifically, crows. What’s the obsession? Truly, I don’t get it. Jackdaw literally translates to ‘small bird’. It doesn’t make you a citizen of the world, just completely full of shit. At least you have a few things in common; you’re both big talkers, opportunistic bottom feeders, and when you see something shiny you come swoopin’ in for a nab at it.
“Unfortunately for Carnica, Wade Moor the bird killah - though it was never proven in a court of law - was there to greet ya. Decided he didn’t want any more pests, disease ridden rodents with wings flapping about in his house. Your client will be in my house Monday Night at Clash, and without a doubt she’s facing her biggest challenge yet. She won’t have you to pull the strings then, it’ll just be her and I in that fifteen by twenty.
“Something tells me you would prefer that Carnica. Beneath the pomp and masquerade, I see you for the woman that you are, struggling desperately to make anything for herself in some trying days, for sure. Something tells me there are days when The Jackdaw didn’t recognize you for what you truly are; weak of mind mind, body, and soul. He’s pulling strings on some cosmic trip now, wishing he could be a factor in our match up, but doesn’t know he’s pulling tricks from a book that Gawdnilla wrote, in another day and life. He doesn’t know how far ahead of the curve I am, Daddy Jackdaw chose the wrong place to come to roost.
“I’m assuming it was him who fed you this far up the chain? After your uh - let’s call it a humbling - at Revolution, I’d figure you would want to toil with the serfs some more, not approach the King in his castle? It seems the puppet master has larger dreams of grandeur and believes there are no limits to what you deserve. Too bad that’s led you straight to me, otherwise things might have been different for you here in Action Wrestling.
“Somebody I used to know always said that there are levels to this shit. There is a reason they signed me to such a ridiculous contract, it’s because they know I can go out there and deliver the goods. You’ve had two weeks to do something, anything of note my dear and you’ve pissed the opportunity away. I’ve made an impact just by dumping that poor gopnik on his brainer. I put more eyes on Action Wrestling by shutting off those lights then you’ve had with all of them on you. There’s a little somethin’ in this industry called the IT factor and you just ain’t got it.
“Sure, you can do all the fancy acrobatics and your body bends in ways that are simultaneously discomforting - but also worth trying. The truth though? In the grand scheme of things, it offers little more than a few gasps. Nobody left the arena talking about you. You amounted to nothing more than a circus act, a puppet on a high wire, perilously close to falling off the radar. Jackdaw asked for me because he figured you could chalk one up here, but he never figured you just weren’t ready for this shit.
“Stepping into the ring with me, I attack more than just your person, I attack your character. I attack your integrity. I attack your courage. I make you question your values and performance, I break your mind and your body. I’ll even invite The Jackdaw to shut his pompous mouth and question everything about himself. This is the power I hold in just words...do you even need to think about the power I hold in my hands? “
Wade and Bonnie continue through the carnival, making their way to a funhouse, but it more so resembles the house Wade grew up in. The dilapidated cabin spoke to his wandering soul, whispering for him to come inside, if he dared. He looked at the funhouse, then around the rest of the carnival, which seemed to dim in a world of gray. The sounds lowered to a dull roar as a cold chill blew through the fairgrounds. The two of them stepped through the wide threshold that closed up behind them as they did.
A box television greeted them upon entry, whirring to life in a hiss of black and grey static, and a face resembling The Jackdaw’s appeared on screen through a hazy video recording.
“Can’t even spring for HD?” Bonnie quipped.
“Shame”, Wade replied.
“Let me show-show-show you...”, the recording skipped as the effigy took a dramatic pose, “...my treasure.”
“Can I get an adult?” Bonnie joked.
The recording hissed and whirred once more, this time revealing a girl dressed like a crust punk on the line in Portland, though she still cawed with the voice of The Jackdaw.
“Inelegant egotist. Inelegant egotist”
The recording repeated itself a few times before phasing out to a hiss of static once more. Another door opened beyond the television set and the duo crossed through it, into a wall of mirrors. Bonnie seemed to be frozen in place, entranced in the funhouse mirrors. Wade was wondering what she was staring at as he glimpsed into the reflections himself.
A wall before him, four mirrors placed unsymmetrically - coulda been the weed though, it was pretty good schwindle - showed Wade visions. Set before him we’re past and present versions of himself, staring into the gaunt of his past was harrowing, barely comin’ out of the experience alive...but he did. He was here, staring before himself, unable to recognize the man he used to be.
Mirrors around him began to transform into television screens, the same static hiss whirring throughout the hall of mirrors. The crust punk - or circus steampunk whateva da fawk that is - appeared once more, repeating the same phrase over and over again.
“Inelegant egotist. Inelegant egotist.”
The screens changed back into reflections...and this time Wade saw visions of the future - damn that bid was A fuckin’ plus. He stood before himself, a King in the Castle, a GAWDNILLA among men, AW World Championship sling over his meaty shoulder, an aura of success waxed upon his grizzly maw.
“I have to say, the smoke and mirrors are pretty fuckin’ dope, it’s served me well in my day, but this isn’t going to be easy for you. You’re not going to get the upset victory. This is Carnica Zefare: Duty in the Face of Defeat. This is Wade Moor: The Ascent. It isn’t ego when you can back your shit up. That’s called confidence. Something you lack in your most primitive human form, let alone in my ring. You’re a jester in the Kings Court, a fuckin’ fool of the highest order. Oh ah, a Gawdnilla’s preachin’ to you now so you will listen. If you come away with anything from this chance meeting on my climb to the top, let it be this; you will not be the same after getting into that ring with me. This isn’t a circus act. This is the real thing. Wade Moor straight stomping you into your next existence. That’s how I get down gurl, that’s the only way I’ve ever known. You haven’t impressed, but Ill give you your greatest performance yet at Clash, while I’m beating the ever loving shit out of you.
“And I don’t care whoever holds that World Championship after Battleground, just know that I’m coming directly for you. It doesn’t matter who I have to tread and trod over to get my shot at the title. Who I have to drop these warheads on. Action Wrestling. Batten down the hatches and pray for shelter from the blast...Worlds Most Dangerous Style has arrived.”