“Y O U R E A L R E A D Y D E A D”
Apr 15, 2018 13:57:46 GMT -5
via mobile
Alexander Pasternak, Roy Speede, and 4 more like this
Post by Wade Moor on Apr 15, 2018 13:57:46 GMT -5
“Toyota Center. Houston, Texas. Eighteen thousand people are going to witness live the decimation of Alexander Pasternak at my hands. I know you’ve had an eye on me ever since I dumped you on your fuckin’ Russian noggin - sure hope you enjoyed your trip to the motherland, because Battlefield is here, and you’re about to enter my world you scum. You think I don’t know you? What you’re about? What you’re capable of? I might know you better than you know yourself, Alex.
“You come to me seeking wisdom?”
Wade raps his knuckles gently on his brainium.
“Then I have the answers...though they might not be what you were expecting. Are they ever? Not in our business, my mans. I can’t tell you everything I’m going to do to you when we step into that ring, Pasternak, but I can tell you that it is going to really fucking hurt. The things I’m going to do to you will break you mentally, emotionally, and physically. This is what happens when you try to play (6ix) God, Alex. You get slapped back down to reality by me.
“I can’t lie though; I see shades of Jared Holmes when I look into your eyes. That emerald green washing away to hues of crystalline blue. Those pupils just as dead as his were. Is this what you want to be in this business, or do you strive to become something more than another millennial flop who had more smarts than common sense? I can tell you that following in Jared’s golden footsteps isn’t the way to go. Holmes was ‘good enough’, but don’t you want to be something more than just ‘good enough’?”
Wade points his meaty hooked finger towards his boisterous chest.
“I do. I do. I want to be the fucking best of anyone whose music ever played, walked down that ramp, climbed through those ropes, and took care of business in that ring. I won’t settle for just ‘good enough’. Gawdnilla don’t play that shit. That’s why I went out there and flattened Carnica, that’s why I laced up Donald Deruty, and it’s why I’m going to pound you into dust at Battlefield.
“You wanted to make this personal when you busted that bottle over my head...well you went and did it, but I gotta say that a personal problem with Wade Moor is not something you want to have. Ask anybody whose ever made it personal and then stepped into the ring with me. Wait...You can’t. They’re all gone and forgotten, just like you’ll be after Sunday. This is just par the course for Alexander Pasternak, a ritual loss in a long string of being ‘too cool’ for this shit and ‘not giving a fuck’. Jared was the exact same way, now I’m pretty sure he’s bar backing at an Applebee’s because, outside of being a shithead, he had no real marketable skills.”
Wade laughs.
“It’s fun to imagine, isn’t it? Life after wrestling for those who just couldn’t hack it. You’ll be joining the list soon so I figure it must be weighing heavily on your mind right now? Probably not. Foresight isn’t in your wheelhouse, otherwise you wouldn’t have picked a fight with me that you have absolutely no hope of winning. Maybe you can join Jared at ABee’s? I’m sure they can use a couple another hapless loser to trap for life? Let’s be honest though, you’ll probably get stuck cleaning grease traps at Burger King.
“I digress, though. That’s then and this is now. Here we are, one pay per view in to Action Wrestling, and there’s already whispering backstage - this match is more than just me flattening Alex worse than one of his punch lines. I heard the rumors that the winner of this match is a heavy favorite for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship, and Alex? That’s not something I’m going to let slip by. When I aim, I aim high, but I’m better than just good aim. I’m precise, calculating, everything I touch turns into gold...at my discretion.
“Tell me Alex, do you feel like the same man since our paths intersected? Maybe dumping you on your fuckin’ bean was the single most selfless thing a Gawdnilla’s ever done? It seems to have shaken the cobwebs loose and got you fired up. I can tell you aren’t a stupid man, I can see you’re firing on all cylinders, but I need you to soul search, take all the time you need...until Battlefield, of course because that’s when the buck stops, my man. That’s when the wheels get broken and rent from the Alexander Pasternak hype wagon and your entire career comes skidding to a violent, merciless halt.
“I’m a driver on a one way street, and you’re the drunk on a bicycle with training wheels going the opposite way. You want to play chicken with me? I don’t scare easy, Pasternak. I’ve seen enough for one lifetime and I’m going back ‘round the world again. I’m going to roll through you like your name is Scarecrow, Gemini Battle, or any of the countless others who have fallen at my feet. Pick a name. It’s a fuckin’ tome full of them and I’m bout to scribble you in for the most unholiest of ass beatings.
“I know you’re sitting there, watching this, infuriated. You’re contemplating either bringing another bottle to the ring to shatter over this beastly maw - or maybe you’re wondering if Chili’s needs a new bus boy. I don’t know. You’re unpredictable. Another trait of those who really just don’t give a god damn about this business, about Action Wrestling, or the World Heavyweight Championship. You’re just a piece of gopnik shit wondering if you have enough blow, vodka, and sunflower seeds to make it through another weekly binge. If you bring another bottle to the ring, you better bring the whole fuckin’ liquor store because you’re going to need it to take me out. I was high on victory and forgot what a conniving shit heel piece of hot trash you are.
“Man, even at my worst, I didn’t succumb to these played out moves. I didn’t try to snare people in just to buss a bottle of cheap ass SVEDKA over their temples. I told them straight up what I would do to them right before I did it. Just like I’m doing now, Alex. You know the funny thing though; if you had given it another week or two before throwing your hall of fame worthy hissy fit at Clash? I probably would have given it a go. Alexander Pasternak and Wade Moor as a Tag Team? The story basically writes itself, we would have just been along for the ride on that one...but I guess it was never really meant to be. Whatever you wanted from me, you’ll never be able to find it, because deep down I don’t believe you’re ready to accept the truth.
“You want to be alive, Alex? The truth is;
“Pretty fuckin’ W A V E Y right? I’m inviting you...in fact, I’m fuckin’ IMPLORING you to bring your best at Battlefield, because what I’ve seen so far? I ain’t impressed. Just another wannabe on some power trip he didn’t pay for. Just another fuccboi who ain’t worth the skin he was given’. Just another fuckin’ plebeian in a long line of plebeians who thought they could step to me but end up getting fed their own ass. Just another bitch who thinks he can sell the world.
“You want to play (6ix) God, Alex? Just know I’m going to give back what you put in a thousand fold. This ain’t a game to me. This ain’t a script I’m reading from. This is the total package. The genuine fuckin’ article. Gawdnilla in the GAWDNILLA DAMNED flesh! You want your shot, Alex? Fuckin’ take it, I dare you! Just know it ends in a Broseidon Punch and an Unleash The Leviathan that will send you packin’ back to Brighton Beach.
“Sing me a tune, Alex, like I’m the Pied Piper to the Rat Prince. You and I both know what happens next.”
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________
“It won’t...bleeding”, Bonnie uttered as she pulled a bloody rag away from Wade’s temple and moved a fresh one to the wound, “Will yo...ease...the doctors? This is only...”
Her voice cut in and out, skipping like a CD that had seen better days. Wade’s vision focused on the wall in front of him, his own blood seeping into his eyes as he stared dead forward. Most who passed by dared not make eye contact with him, thinking his hatred was focused on a singular target and didn’t wish to invoke his ire.
Though they believed it to be Pasternak on his mind, when that bottle broke over his head and the bright arena lights above him turned hazy and black - he only saw one person.
Jared Holmes.
Why it was him that came into his mind as he lost consciousness was anyone’s guess - though Wade knew the answer. ‘The Gopnik Rat Prince reminds me of Jared’ was what he told himself, but he knew better. Wade Moor and Jared Holmes shared an ethereal connection, one that couldn’t be explained by man...the Jalaxritkatusians made damn sure of that.
Why now? Why when he was in the prime of his career could he not place singular focus on the World Heavyweight Championship, fuck everything else around him?
He knew in his heart that he had unfinished business with the 6ix God. He wasn’t sure when - if ever - the opportunity would arise to erase Jared Holmes from existence, but he knew that the confrontation was weighing heavily on his mind.
“...ade?” Bonnie’s voice cut in, “...ade? Wade?!”
Wade snapped out of his trance like state, the blood still seeping down his face in near gushes.
“You have to get this looked at”, she pleaded, “I can’t do anything for you.”
Her eyes bore directly into his, but he could barely hear her...behind her stood a familiar frame, draped in a long black coat, a mirror mask casting a reflection...but it wasn’t his own face staring back at him. Jared Holmes gaunt - though handsome - face with a shark toothed grin plastered greeted him.
“Hello, Wade”, Jared spoke.
Wade fell from the production cart he was sitting on, hitting the concrete floor with a plop as blood smeared the the already grimy ground.
“That’s it”, Bonnie said as she heaved Wade off the floor in a feat of Herculean strength and threw his arm over her shoulder, “I’m not askin’ anymore, I’m tellin’; we’re goin’ to the doctor!”
“Wh...where is he?” Wade asked, sluggishly scanning the room for Jared, who was now gone.
Bonnie looked perplexed, her silvery blonde hairline rising as she furrowed her brow.
“Who? Pasternak?” Bonnie replied, “You’ll get your shot at him...just not in this state.”
“No...”, Wade heaved, pushing Bonnie away and standing on his own two feet, “Jared? Where did he go?!”
“Jared?!” Bonnie questioned, “What are you talkin’ about?”
“He was...” Wade murmured while pointing towards the spot they were just in, “...right there. I swear...”
A ringing buzzed in Wade’s ears as he felt the world around him get even hazier. He stumbled, but Bonnie caught him underneath the arm again.
“Please, somebody help!” Bonnie struggled to say while fighting against the weight of the nearly unconscious man on her shoulder.
A team rushed towards Wade as he felt the days rush of a clouded mind envelop his vision. The last thing he saw before he went completely unconscious was a shark toothed maw coming directly for him, and then he knew no more.
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“Did that cheap shot feel good, Alex? I say cheap shot because that was the most bottom shelf vodka you can get. What the fuck is Gravedigger paying you in? Track suits? Doesn’t really matter at the end of the day, because it’s about to come to a most unfortunate end for you. I’d be lying if I said that shot didn’t wake up something inside me that’s been dormant a few years now. Something W A V E Y. Still bad news for you, either way you want to split it, because this shit just got even nastier for Alexander Pasternak.
“You thought you were selling the world, man, but I’m not buying that shit. You gonna split The Leviathans wig like a board? You better get prepared to be cracked in half for such heretical misgivings. Seeing my own blood run down my face like that, having me come face to face with...”
Wade shudders, sending the thought away before it transports him somewhere else entirely.
“For the first time in a long time, Wade Moor has felt fear. Whatever was lurking underneath is clawing it’s way to the surface and I’m not sure if I can stop it. Don’t get me wrong, though; I’m not scared of you, Alex. I’m scared of what I’m going to do to you. I’m scared that I’m going to like it. Whatever this is, I don’t think I can control it, so you’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with the consequences. I just don’t want to think about...”
Another short pause, followed by a shudder.
“That’s neither here nor there. I’ll cross that bridge and burn it down when I come to it, but this week, it’s about you and me. Wade Moor versus Alexander Pasternak. Winners looking good for a World Heavyweight Championship Match. Let me be real fuckin’ frank with you for a moment: we both know how this is gonna go. If somebody told me that Alexander Pasternak was the World Heavyweight Champion, I’d ask them if they were feeling ok because that’s some fever dream quality shit right there.
“Alexander Pasternak and success haven’t been quite synonymous here in Action Wrestling, have they? I mean, your biggest moment so far was getting plonked on your gob by your boi Wade. Well, it’s either that or being carried to your first victory in a couple weeks by your boi Wade. No matter what, I’m always there, but I ain’t no asterisk, my nilla. You’re the asterisk, existing in my space, harvesting my clout as your own. This is just something I can’t abide. I’m sitting here waiting for Pasternak to establish himself based on merit...and Gawdnilla damn, I should be searching for a coffin instead because my death is more likely to happen sooner than the former.
“This is what happens to men like you, Alex. You get so caught up in these fleeting moments that you lose sight of the bigger picture. You could have come out to that ring, proven yourself to me - because make no mistakes, you’re stepping into my ring - and went on your merry way. Your ego couldn’t allow that though. Too big for the man just like so many before you, Pasternak. Comin’ into my promo warzone, this Battlefield, spilling that weak ass shit? Fuck out of here, man. What happens after this match, Alex, after I dust your ass and expose you for what you are? I mean, you’ve already taken to following me around and assaulting me when I least expect it, how far does this go? Like I said, I probably know you better than you know yourself; so what’s next? You comin’ for my friends? You gonna come for my life?
“I think I understand now, Alex. Under all the bravado, all the mischief...is just someone who’s hurting. Underneath that conniving, rat-like exterior is just somebody who wants to be loved. You see where I can from, what I have, and what I can go back to, and you’re jealous. Jealousy is a wicked bitch, my man. I’ve felt it before...but in my walk through life, I’ve discovered that jealousy ain’t gonna get ya nothin’. It definitely won’t win this match. Spend so much time tryin’ to measure up to me you forget to grow.
“So step into my battlefield. You’re going to discover what true heartbreak is. Courage in the face of defeat. I told you I was gonna make a man out of you yet, Alex, and the time is finally come.”
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It was sometime late in the evening when Wade decided to visit the old BAGO. When he unlocked the door, a small hatch opened and a set of stairs sprang out to grant him access. Stepping through the threshold he was greeted with a trove of familiar scents; body odor, spilled then sloppily cleaned alcohol, and a mixture of urine and semen. Smelled like home iffin’ home was a sewer gutter. For Alexander Pasternak, that was reality.
Though the smell was horrid, the sight of everything brought the world out of laser focus. It was like going back in time and Wades thoughts drifted there. He wasn’t sure if it served as a reminder of what he could go back to, or what he would always be. Either way, bravery - or stupidity - caused him to search the BAGO for something he still wasn’t quite sure of, but his boots carried forward regardless.
He passed the couch where Kyle Kemp, or Dustin Beaver, or Sandy Coconutz slept when they traveled along with them - fuck, even Wade had crashed there several times when he was nine sheets to the fucking wind. He opened the fridge that was still filled to the brim with cheap Keystones, Natty Light, or whatever bilge they served up during a WINOBAGO rager. Stepping through the curtain to the back was a bed, one that Jared Holmes had occupied during most of his stays on board the BAGO, usually with a ring rat from whatever city the rolled through during their time in WCF.
Wade didn’t expect to find Holmes lying it in presently, but their in the flesh was the 6ix God, wearing his old Los Tiburones mask.
“Sup, Swagrid?” his collected voice spoke, “Long time no see.”
“What are you doing here?” Wade asked, his voice collected as well.
“I don’t know”, Jared replied, “For whatever reason your mind conjured me, I suppose.”
Wade wasn’t sure if it was real or his imagination; Jared Holmes was just quirky enough to spout off some nonsense like that.
“I guess you have something to say to me?” Jared asked.
“Perhaps”, Wade replied, “But for the Grace of Gawdnilla I can’t think of what.”
“Maybe we’ll work towards it, in time”, Jared said nonchalant, “But for now, hows tricks? Tricks is good? I see you’ve got yourself a girl mate, new friends...an entirely new life.”
“Yep”, Wade replied, trying to steer the conversation clear from that, but he knew it was no use.
“Weak”, Jared said, “Weak as you’ve always been. Ever since I pulled you from the primordial ooze, that fucking swamp you called a home. Tell me, if I hadn’t come along, would you still have been there?”
Wade couldn’t think of an answer.
“Probably would have died there just like your stupid fucking dad and your stupid fucking mom”, Jared continued ,”Thank your lucky 6ix God for that one too.”
“What was I to you?” Wade asked, “You used to call me brother.”
“And you were”, Jared said, “When it was convenient. You were like a hairless ape. I pointed and you attacked. Saved me from some scrapes at the bar, but that was about it.”
Jared seemed to be forgetting something.
“Remember those first few months in WCF?” Wade asked, “It was fun, right? Barreling through the competition, making that place #bowatourfeet? What happened when your fun ran out, Jared?”
“I don’t seem to recall...” Jared started, but Wade cut him off.
“I started succeeding”, Wade interjected, “I realized that I didn’t just fit right in...but I was fucking good at it. I became World Champion. I held it through One. I was in the main event!”
Wade pointed at his chest as hand accentuated each sentence.
“Who gives a fuck?!” Jared shouted.
“I did!” Wade replied, “Then you came back and yours and Rabids egotistical stand off completely killed everyone around you. You forced me to become something I despise; weak. I’m done living that life. I want more than whatever you wanted from me. I have a good woman. I have a good position. I’m going to be more than you imagined for me. I’m definitely going to be better than you could have ever been.
“This Pasternak kid? He’s going to have to figure it out for himself, just like I did. I ain’t gonna hold his hand. I’m just gonna beat his ass. You’re going to watch me do it, Jared. Everything I’m giving to him, you’re just going to have to imagine it’s you. Then when it’s over, you can stay fucked off in whatever hidey hole you’ve slithered into. Unless you want to make it something? We can. You know where to find me.”
Wade turned on his heels to leave, Jared proffered nothing the form of protest, though he did have the courage to say one last thing.
“You know you’ll never get rid of me, right?” he asked, “I’ll always be right here.”
Jared pointed at his temple. Wade offered him a smile in return.
“I’m counting on it, fam”, Wade said as he waved to him and slammed the BAGO door shut.
“You come to me seeking wisdom?”
Wade raps his knuckles gently on his brainium.
“Then I have the answers...though they might not be what you were expecting. Are they ever? Not in our business, my mans. I can’t tell you everything I’m going to do to you when we step into that ring, Pasternak, but I can tell you that it is going to really fucking hurt. The things I’m going to do to you will break you mentally, emotionally, and physically. This is what happens when you try to play (6ix) God, Alex. You get slapped back down to reality by me.
“I can’t lie though; I see shades of Jared Holmes when I look into your eyes. That emerald green washing away to hues of crystalline blue. Those pupils just as dead as his were. Is this what you want to be in this business, or do you strive to become something more than another millennial flop who had more smarts than common sense? I can tell you that following in Jared’s golden footsteps isn’t the way to go. Holmes was ‘good enough’, but don’t you want to be something more than just ‘good enough’?”
Wade points his meaty hooked finger towards his boisterous chest.
“I do. I do. I want to be the fucking best of anyone whose music ever played, walked down that ramp, climbed through those ropes, and took care of business in that ring. I won’t settle for just ‘good enough’. Gawdnilla don’t play that shit. That’s why I went out there and flattened Carnica, that’s why I laced up Donald Deruty, and it’s why I’m going to pound you into dust at Battlefield.
“You wanted to make this personal when you busted that bottle over my head...well you went and did it, but I gotta say that a personal problem with Wade Moor is not something you want to have. Ask anybody whose ever made it personal and then stepped into the ring with me. Wait...You can’t. They’re all gone and forgotten, just like you’ll be after Sunday. This is just par the course for Alexander Pasternak, a ritual loss in a long string of being ‘too cool’ for this shit and ‘not giving a fuck’. Jared was the exact same way, now I’m pretty sure he’s bar backing at an Applebee’s because, outside of being a shithead, he had no real marketable skills.”
Wade laughs.
“It’s fun to imagine, isn’t it? Life after wrestling for those who just couldn’t hack it. You’ll be joining the list soon so I figure it must be weighing heavily on your mind right now? Probably not. Foresight isn’t in your wheelhouse, otherwise you wouldn’t have picked a fight with me that you have absolutely no hope of winning. Maybe you can join Jared at ABee’s? I’m sure they can use a couple another hapless loser to trap for life? Let’s be honest though, you’ll probably get stuck cleaning grease traps at Burger King.
“I digress, though. That’s then and this is now. Here we are, one pay per view in to Action Wrestling, and there’s already whispering backstage - this match is more than just me flattening Alex worse than one of his punch lines. I heard the rumors that the winner of this match is a heavy favorite for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship, and Alex? That’s not something I’m going to let slip by. When I aim, I aim high, but I’m better than just good aim. I’m precise, calculating, everything I touch turns into gold...at my discretion.
“Tell me Alex, do you feel like the same man since our paths intersected? Maybe dumping you on your fuckin’ bean was the single most selfless thing a Gawdnilla’s ever done? It seems to have shaken the cobwebs loose and got you fired up. I can tell you aren’t a stupid man, I can see you’re firing on all cylinders, but I need you to soul search, take all the time you need...until Battlefield, of course because that’s when the buck stops, my man. That’s when the wheels get broken and rent from the Alexander Pasternak hype wagon and your entire career comes skidding to a violent, merciless halt.
“I’m a driver on a one way street, and you’re the drunk on a bicycle with training wheels going the opposite way. You want to play chicken with me? I don’t scare easy, Pasternak. I’ve seen enough for one lifetime and I’m going back ‘round the world again. I’m going to roll through you like your name is Scarecrow, Gemini Battle, or any of the countless others who have fallen at my feet. Pick a name. It’s a fuckin’ tome full of them and I’m bout to scribble you in for the most unholiest of ass beatings.
“I know you’re sitting there, watching this, infuriated. You’re contemplating either bringing another bottle to the ring to shatter over this beastly maw - or maybe you’re wondering if Chili’s needs a new bus boy. I don’t know. You’re unpredictable. Another trait of those who really just don’t give a god damn about this business, about Action Wrestling, or the World Heavyweight Championship. You’re just a piece of gopnik shit wondering if you have enough blow, vodka, and sunflower seeds to make it through another weekly binge. If you bring another bottle to the ring, you better bring the whole fuckin’ liquor store because you’re going to need it to take me out. I was high on victory and forgot what a conniving shit heel piece of hot trash you are.
“Man, even at my worst, I didn’t succumb to these played out moves. I didn’t try to snare people in just to buss a bottle of cheap ass SVEDKA over their temples. I told them straight up what I would do to them right before I did it. Just like I’m doing now, Alex. You know the funny thing though; if you had given it another week or two before throwing your hall of fame worthy hissy fit at Clash? I probably would have given it a go. Alexander Pasternak and Wade Moor as a Tag Team? The story basically writes itself, we would have just been along for the ride on that one...but I guess it was never really meant to be. Whatever you wanted from me, you’ll never be able to find it, because deep down I don’t believe you’re ready to accept the truth.
“You want to be alive, Alex? The truth is;
Y O U R E A L R E A D Y D E A D
“Pretty fuckin’ W A V E Y right? I’m inviting you...in fact, I’m fuckin’ IMPLORING you to bring your best at Battlefield, because what I’ve seen so far? I ain’t impressed. Just another wannabe on some power trip he didn’t pay for. Just another fuccboi who ain’t worth the skin he was given’. Just another fuckin’ plebeian in a long line of plebeians who thought they could step to me but end up getting fed their own ass. Just another bitch who thinks he can sell the world.
“You want to play (6ix) God, Alex? Just know I’m going to give back what you put in a thousand fold. This ain’t a game to me. This ain’t a script I’m reading from. This is the total package. The genuine fuckin’ article. Gawdnilla in the GAWDNILLA DAMNED flesh! You want your shot, Alex? Fuckin’ take it, I dare you! Just know it ends in a Broseidon Punch and an Unleash The Leviathan that will send you packin’ back to Brighton Beach.
“Sing me a tune, Alex, like I’m the Pied Piper to the Rat Prince. You and I both know what happens next.”
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A N D I M W A L K I N G A R O U N D T O W N A G A I N
A N D I M L O O K I N G F O R A F O R T U N E
O N E T H A T I C O U LD B U Y T H E W O R L D W I T H
A N D I M L O O K I N G F O R A F O R T U N E
O N E T H A T I C O U LD B U Y T H E W O R L D W I T H
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“It won’t...bleeding”, Bonnie uttered as she pulled a bloody rag away from Wade’s temple and moved a fresh one to the wound, “Will yo...ease...the doctors? This is only...”
Her voice cut in and out, skipping like a CD that had seen better days. Wade’s vision focused on the wall in front of him, his own blood seeping into his eyes as he stared dead forward. Most who passed by dared not make eye contact with him, thinking his hatred was focused on a singular target and didn’t wish to invoke his ire.
Though they believed it to be Pasternak on his mind, when that bottle broke over his head and the bright arena lights above him turned hazy and black - he only saw one person.
Jared Holmes.
Why it was him that came into his mind as he lost consciousness was anyone’s guess - though Wade knew the answer. ‘The Gopnik Rat Prince reminds me of Jared’ was what he told himself, but he knew better. Wade Moor and Jared Holmes shared an ethereal connection, one that couldn’t be explained by man...the Jalaxritkatusians made damn sure of that.
Why now? Why when he was in the prime of his career could he not place singular focus on the World Heavyweight Championship, fuck everything else around him?
He knew in his heart that he had unfinished business with the 6ix God. He wasn’t sure when - if ever - the opportunity would arise to erase Jared Holmes from existence, but he knew that the confrontation was weighing heavily on his mind.
“...ade?” Bonnie’s voice cut in, “...ade? Wade?!”
Wade snapped out of his trance like state, the blood still seeping down his face in near gushes.
“You have to get this looked at”, she pleaded, “I can’t do anything for you.”
Her eyes bore directly into his, but he could barely hear her...behind her stood a familiar frame, draped in a long black coat, a mirror mask casting a reflection...but it wasn’t his own face staring back at him. Jared Holmes gaunt - though handsome - face with a shark toothed grin plastered greeted him.
“Hello, Wade”, Jared spoke.
Wade fell from the production cart he was sitting on, hitting the concrete floor with a plop as blood smeared the the already grimy ground.
“That’s it”, Bonnie said as she heaved Wade off the floor in a feat of Herculean strength and threw his arm over her shoulder, “I’m not askin’ anymore, I’m tellin’; we’re goin’ to the doctor!”
“Wh...where is he?” Wade asked, sluggishly scanning the room for Jared, who was now gone.
Bonnie looked perplexed, her silvery blonde hairline rising as she furrowed her brow.
“Who? Pasternak?” Bonnie replied, “You’ll get your shot at him...just not in this state.”
“No...”, Wade heaved, pushing Bonnie away and standing on his own two feet, “Jared? Where did he go?!”
“Jared?!” Bonnie questioned, “What are you talkin’ about?”
“He was...” Wade murmured while pointing towards the spot they were just in, “...right there. I swear...”
A ringing buzzed in Wade’s ears as he felt the world around him get even hazier. He stumbled, but Bonnie caught him underneath the arm again.
“Please, somebody help!” Bonnie struggled to say while fighting against the weight of the nearly unconscious man on her shoulder.
A team rushed towards Wade as he felt the days rush of a clouded mind envelop his vision. The last thing he saw before he went completely unconscious was a shark toothed maw coming directly for him, and then he knew no more.
Y O U R E A L R E A D Y D E A D
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“Did that cheap shot feel good, Alex? I say cheap shot because that was the most bottom shelf vodka you can get. What the fuck is Gravedigger paying you in? Track suits? Doesn’t really matter at the end of the day, because it’s about to come to a most unfortunate end for you. I’d be lying if I said that shot didn’t wake up something inside me that’s been dormant a few years now. Something W A V E Y. Still bad news for you, either way you want to split it, because this shit just got even nastier for Alexander Pasternak.
“You thought you were selling the world, man, but I’m not buying that shit. You gonna split The Leviathans wig like a board? You better get prepared to be cracked in half for such heretical misgivings. Seeing my own blood run down my face like that, having me come face to face with...”
Wade shudders, sending the thought away before it transports him somewhere else entirely.
“For the first time in a long time, Wade Moor has felt fear. Whatever was lurking underneath is clawing it’s way to the surface and I’m not sure if I can stop it. Don’t get me wrong, though; I’m not scared of you, Alex. I’m scared of what I’m going to do to you. I’m scared that I’m going to like it. Whatever this is, I don’t think I can control it, so you’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with the consequences. I just don’t want to think about...”
Another short pause, followed by a shudder.
“That’s neither here nor there. I’ll cross that bridge and burn it down when I come to it, but this week, it’s about you and me. Wade Moor versus Alexander Pasternak. Winners looking good for a World Heavyweight Championship Match. Let me be real fuckin’ frank with you for a moment: we both know how this is gonna go. If somebody told me that Alexander Pasternak was the World Heavyweight Champion, I’d ask them if they were feeling ok because that’s some fever dream quality shit right there.
“Alexander Pasternak and success haven’t been quite synonymous here in Action Wrestling, have they? I mean, your biggest moment so far was getting plonked on your gob by your boi Wade. Well, it’s either that or being carried to your first victory in a couple weeks by your boi Wade. No matter what, I’m always there, but I ain’t no asterisk, my nilla. You’re the asterisk, existing in my space, harvesting my clout as your own. This is just something I can’t abide. I’m sitting here waiting for Pasternak to establish himself based on merit...and Gawdnilla damn, I should be searching for a coffin instead because my death is more likely to happen sooner than the former.
“This is what happens to men like you, Alex. You get so caught up in these fleeting moments that you lose sight of the bigger picture. You could have come out to that ring, proven yourself to me - because make no mistakes, you’re stepping into my ring - and went on your merry way. Your ego couldn’t allow that though. Too big for the man just like so many before you, Pasternak. Comin’ into my promo warzone, this Battlefield, spilling that weak ass shit? Fuck out of here, man. What happens after this match, Alex, after I dust your ass and expose you for what you are? I mean, you’ve already taken to following me around and assaulting me when I least expect it, how far does this go? Like I said, I probably know you better than you know yourself; so what’s next? You comin’ for my friends? You gonna come for my life?
“I think I understand now, Alex. Under all the bravado, all the mischief...is just someone who’s hurting. Underneath that conniving, rat-like exterior is just somebody who wants to be loved. You see where I can from, what I have, and what I can go back to, and you’re jealous. Jealousy is a wicked bitch, my man. I’ve felt it before...but in my walk through life, I’ve discovered that jealousy ain’t gonna get ya nothin’. It definitely won’t win this match. Spend so much time tryin’ to measure up to me you forget to grow.
“So step into my battlefield. You’re going to discover what true heartbreak is. Courage in the face of defeat. I told you I was gonna make a man out of you yet, Alex, and the time is finally come.”
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It was sometime late in the evening when Wade decided to visit the old BAGO. When he unlocked the door, a small hatch opened and a set of stairs sprang out to grant him access. Stepping through the threshold he was greeted with a trove of familiar scents; body odor, spilled then sloppily cleaned alcohol, and a mixture of urine and semen. Smelled like home iffin’ home was a sewer gutter. For Alexander Pasternak, that was reality.
Though the smell was horrid, the sight of everything brought the world out of laser focus. It was like going back in time and Wades thoughts drifted there. He wasn’t sure if it served as a reminder of what he could go back to, or what he would always be. Either way, bravery - or stupidity - caused him to search the BAGO for something he still wasn’t quite sure of, but his boots carried forward regardless.
He passed the couch where Kyle Kemp, or Dustin Beaver, or Sandy Coconutz slept when they traveled along with them - fuck, even Wade had crashed there several times when he was nine sheets to the fucking wind. He opened the fridge that was still filled to the brim with cheap Keystones, Natty Light, or whatever bilge they served up during a WINOBAGO rager. Stepping through the curtain to the back was a bed, one that Jared Holmes had occupied during most of his stays on board the BAGO, usually with a ring rat from whatever city the rolled through during their time in WCF.
Wade didn’t expect to find Holmes lying it in presently, but their in the flesh was the 6ix God, wearing his old Los Tiburones mask.
“Sup, Swagrid?” his collected voice spoke, “Long time no see.”
“What are you doing here?” Wade asked, his voice collected as well.
“I don’t know”, Jared replied, “For whatever reason your mind conjured me, I suppose.”
Wade wasn’t sure if it was real or his imagination; Jared Holmes was just quirky enough to spout off some nonsense like that.
“I guess you have something to say to me?” Jared asked.
“Perhaps”, Wade replied, “But for the Grace of Gawdnilla I can’t think of what.”
“Maybe we’ll work towards it, in time”, Jared said nonchalant, “But for now, hows tricks? Tricks is good? I see you’ve got yourself a girl mate, new friends...an entirely new life.”
“Yep”, Wade replied, trying to steer the conversation clear from that, but he knew it was no use.
“Weak”, Jared said, “Weak as you’ve always been. Ever since I pulled you from the primordial ooze, that fucking swamp you called a home. Tell me, if I hadn’t come along, would you still have been there?”
Wade couldn’t think of an answer.
“Probably would have died there just like your stupid fucking dad and your stupid fucking mom”, Jared continued ,”Thank your lucky 6ix God for that one too.”
“What was I to you?” Wade asked, “You used to call me brother.”
“And you were”, Jared said, “When it was convenient. You were like a hairless ape. I pointed and you attacked. Saved me from some scrapes at the bar, but that was about it.”
Jared seemed to be forgetting something.
“Remember those first few months in WCF?” Wade asked, “It was fun, right? Barreling through the competition, making that place #bowatourfeet? What happened when your fun ran out, Jared?”
“I don’t seem to recall...” Jared started, but Wade cut him off.
“I started succeeding”, Wade interjected, “I realized that I didn’t just fit right in...but I was fucking good at it. I became World Champion. I held it through One. I was in the main event!”
Wade pointed at his chest as hand accentuated each sentence.
“Who gives a fuck?!” Jared shouted.
“I did!” Wade replied, “Then you came back and yours and Rabids egotistical stand off completely killed everyone around you. You forced me to become something I despise; weak. I’m done living that life. I want more than whatever you wanted from me. I have a good woman. I have a good position. I’m going to be more than you imagined for me. I’m definitely going to be better than you could have ever been.
“This Pasternak kid? He’s going to have to figure it out for himself, just like I did. I ain’t gonna hold his hand. I’m just gonna beat his ass. You’re going to watch me do it, Jared. Everything I’m giving to him, you’re just going to have to imagine it’s you. Then when it’s over, you can stay fucked off in whatever hidey hole you’ve slithered into. Unless you want to make it something? We can. You know where to find me.”
Wade turned on his heels to leave, Jared proffered nothing the form of protest, though he did have the courage to say one last thing.
“You know you’ll never get rid of me, right?” he asked, “I’ll always be right here.”
Jared pointed at his temple. Wade offered him a smile in return.
“I’m counting on it, fam”, Wade said as he waved to him and slammed the BAGO door shut.