Post by Wade Moor on Nov 4, 2018 16:44:57 GMT -5
Over my dead body
The stars will let you know
It's over
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“They say that dreams are just a construct of the machine, planted in your mind to further control your thoughts, and therefore your actions.”
Wade sat at a stool of a dingy, poorly lit bar in the middle of some fringe town. The kind of town where people didn’t come to live, they came to die, but they were going to have a good time doing it. His mouth was agape still from the words bestowed upon him by his one, true partner in this world, Bonnie Blue. She took a sip from her nearly depleted mug of beer and called for another one.
“What did you just say?” Wade asked, still gawking in confusion.
“I asked if you were enjoying yourself?” she asked, “You’ve been a million miles away all night.”
She polished off her drink as the lanky, hairy bartender in the Tommy Bahama shirt set another one down in front of her.
“Sorry”, he replied, taking in a glance of his surroundings once more, “I honestly have no idea. I think I’m just tired.”
“Wade Moor? Tired?!” she exclaimed, “I wasn’t even sure you knew that word existed.”
“Yeah well...”, he replied, taking a hearty drink from his beer, “...even God took one day off.”
Bonnie giggled and a little bit of beer dribbled from her mouth. Her eyes widened as she grabbed a napkin nearby to clean herself up with. As she leaned forward on the bar, a quartet of men appeared behind her, towards the back of the bar near the restrooms. She reared back, obscuring his vision, and when Wade went to look around her at the group, they were gone.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked, “We can go back to the hotel room if you want?”
“No, I’m fine”, he replied, “I don’t know where I am.”
“You’re in the EXISTENCE”, she replied, her normally oceanic blue eyes now a smatter of matte grey.
“What?!” he asked as his warm bones started to feel frozen, “Where is that?!”
Bonnie was gone now. Instead replaced by one of the men who was standing behind her earlier. His True Face was hidden, instead Wade was looking back in to his own reflection.
“Having a good time Wade?” a familiar, male voice asked, “You seem a million miles away.”
Wade took another sip of his beer as he tried to make heads or tails of the situation. Under normal circumstances, he would have removed himself from the bar or smashed this mans face into the wood laden countertop, but he felt rooted to the spot as if his actions were predetermined and he wasn’t meant to leave this seat. Instead, he asked questions, seemingly of his own volition.
“What is this?” Wade asked, “Who are you?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?” the mirror man asked, “We don’t want to go back to the Scrub Protocol.”
Wade wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but his imagination was daunting and he knew he wanted no part of this “Scrub Protocol”.
“No, I don’t want that”, Wade replied.
And as he replied, he felt hundreds of tomes - each boasting over a thousand pages of memories - return to him. They told him tales he couldn’t remember until they resurfaced in his minds eye. Some of them joyful, some lamentable, none of them viable scripts, all of them false. Every one of them had commonalities though as each one involved Bonnie Blue and the Mirror Man. When Wade reentered the instance, he was sat on the floor leaning back against the bar.
“What do you want from me?” Wade asked.
T o B e F r e e
The Mirror Mans voice floated along the walls and echoed in his soul.
“How do I do that?” Wade questioned, “Please...let me out.”
“He’s ready”, The Mirror Man replied, “Wake him up.”
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><><><>< A C Q U I S I T I O N ><><><><
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Oh please rest assured this was not my fault
And time is getting short
So I'll be here if you want me
Beaten and covered in a red so bloody
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
“Sydney Warwick...I can’t say I’m surprised to see you with my World Heavyweight Championship. You’re a decent enough wrestler boasting a lot of personality with an act that the internet smarks eat up and ask for seconds.The only person standing in your way was Roy Speede and anyone can beat him on their worst day. Your road to the AW World Heavyweight Championship was paved sturdier than the path you took in WCF, it was only a matter of time until you claimed what was yours. Or rather, what is mine, because it was only a matter of time before I came back and laid claim to the World.
“I suppose I owe you an apology this time. I’m sorry I have to return in a match against you and completely cripple your title reign for the second time. This is just how the chips fall for Sydney Warwick when it comes to Wade Moor. I know you’re sitting in your luxury one bedroom mental prison cooking up a diabolical plot on how I’ve offended your delicate sensibilities. Did I man-spread too hard in the locker room once? Have I used words that go against your prescribed lexicon? You know, everyone likes to say that the American people are bred weak now, but I think it’s just that people have always been weak, there’s just more social news coverage now.
“This includes you, Sydney. If the world as we know it were to end tomorrow, who do you think people would look to for comfort and protection? If you’re thinking yourself, then I couldn’t blame you. It’s ok to have wrong fucking opinions sometimes, something your parents never bothered to beat into your brain. That’s ok though, I’m here to pick up where they slacked off. Maybe I’ll beat you so fucking bad you’ll slip in to another retarded masked frenzy and let loose your primal instincts? I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that entire episode, to be completely honest, and I think I finally put my finger on the pulse of Sydney Warwick.
“Get this, your time in the mask was us finally seeing you for who you actually are. Under the mask of PC culture, confirmation bias, and just all around snark douchery we got the real Sydney Warwick. The lude, crass, womanizing piece of actual human shit that you are. Real, subconscious desires brought to fruition under the guise of Max Masked. Didn’t it feel good to finally let loose the baying hounds, those dogs of war? You found relative success for where you were and what you were doing, but you knew you couldn’t keep up the persona much longer. The masks grip was tight but you knew to make it further up the mountain you would have to evolve eventually.”
Wade runs his fingers slow and firm down his face, red imprints left in their wake.
“That’s when you came up with Action Wrestling’s greatest coup outside Torture absolutely rawdogging my Heavyweight Championship reign. You would unmask Max Masked and come up with some fugue frenzy story that everybody with half a brain cell - aka all of your fans - would yuck up with a hearty helping of gravy. Good thing this woke motherfucker could see right through your bullshit. In fact, I’ve seen through it since day one my nilla, from the moment you first appeared on WCF television. While everyone was heralding Sydney J. Warwick as a true transcendent warrior of the people, I was quaking with the rage of an idol god.
“It’s not even the fact that you’re transgender that upsets me Warwick. I could honestly give a shit less what you believe you are or identify as. You could see yourself as a horned frog and I would still crush you like the insufferable mite that you are. It’s not that at all. It’s that you hid from this revelation as if you were shamed by it, as if accepting who you are is some crippling physical blow. In the name of ‘progress’ you decided to finally reveal to the world your birth identity and the subsequent flow of support was overwhelming. Yet, I stood watching from the shadows, still quivering in anger. I found out a little later that it was at the behest of reporter Hank Brown that you decided to come out, certainly sullying your decision. I know he’s like a dog with a bone, a toddler peeling back the wallpaper when he has a story as juicy as that...but what in the holy fuck, Syd?
“If you had as much pride in your identity as you would lead us to believe, then we would already have this information - not that it would save you from subsequent ass beatings from yours truly, but still, all the cards would be on the table. You single handedly set the trans community back in one fell swoop and still continue to do so to this day with your ridiculous antics and false flag promo material. You’re just a peddler of extremist emotion, someone who certainly understands the plight of the world they’re living in but still fails to grasp the human condition. You’re taking advantage of people looking for someone, anyone to follow in these trying times. That doesn’t make you any better than the people you’re setting out against, in my honest opinion. You might be asking yourself how this information is even relevant, and trust me, we’ll get down to the nitty gritty...but there’s something I have to address before I move on with this verbal decimation.
“Torture, my man, how’s it going? I’m sure you’re slightly anxious to have me back in Action Wrestling after that walloping Broseidon Punch you ate on ‘my departure’. ‘My departure’ is a diplomatic way of putting it. You all but shoved me out of active competition by renting the World Heavyweight Championship from my meaty fingers. When I signed my name on the dotted line, I asked you for one thing and one thing only; to face the absolute best this federation has to offer and you force fed me Roy Speede for nigh on three months. I did my best to turn chicken shit into chicken salad but Speede is the blandest, most uninspiring opponent one could be cursed to lock horns with. I’d even give it to you if there was actual reason to believe that he stood a chance in hell of actually defeating me...
“That’s not how it went down though, is it? You trusted your charge Speede to best me in combat inside the squared circle, that failed. You sent one of your crooked referees out to the ring to fast count me. That failed. That’s when you showed your ugly snek face at ringside and stole MY WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP FROM ME!!! Now why, pray tell, would you want something like that to happen? I think Roy Speede all but proved his viability as a consistent champion when he lost in his first title defense. Then he went and lost what credibility he managed to scrape together by losing in his first title defense again.
“That’s who you were so set on having the championship? Was it the deal with CBS, Torture? Did you sell out Action Wrestling’s greatest champion for a bigger bottom line? I thought you had more pride than that. Not only were you intent on having a weaker champion but now you’re playing loose with your ethics? What a disgusting, piece of shit move. I did everything I was supposed to and I did it all within the confines of the rules, Torture. I won the Havoc Rumble, I main evented Evolution, I beat Spencer Adams and Ryan Lockhart for the World Heavyweight Championship. If it wasn’t for me, there might not even have been an Action Wrestling or a Torture that could totally fuck me over.
“I kept my head down, I’ve been your good little workhorse, but all that’s about to change. I built this company, brick by brick, and I’m going to take it all back. Starting with your new champion Sydney J. Warwick. I want you to watch closely this week, Torture. I want you to watch as I systematically dismantle Warwick live in front of twenty four thousand people and everyone viewing from home. Every strike, every slam, every high impact maneuver, I want you to watch me put a little stank on it. Then I want you to know that it hurts me a lot worse than it’s going to hurt Sydney.
“I did everything I could for this company as Wade Moor. I put it on my back when nobody else could shoulder that burden. Now we have stockholders, a board of directors...all that shit that lets the world know we have more money than brains. I was so dedicated to turning over a new leaf in Action Wrestling I forgot how quickly it could be burned away. Not anymore, things are about to change in Action Wrestling, starting with this Wrestler of the Year Tournament. You were probably hoping, or praying, that I’d forgotten about you Warwick.
“If this were a competition based on accolades, Sydney, we all know who the front runner would be. I don’t even need to list my accomplishments and everyone would know that Wade Moor is, in fact, Wrestler of the Year here in Action Wrestling. As far as I’m concerned, nobody here holds a candle to my impressive feats, including you Sydney. I know faux modesty is more your wheelhouse, but I’m done with that crap. I’m done with the idea that Warwick has any place in the World Championship conversation when Wade Moor is back. I’m finished with the Sydney J. Warwick experiment all together.
“I left you hanging a little while back - as any good executioner would do - when I told you we’d get down to the nitty gritty, and we’re coming full circle. Nobody wants to see this Wade Moor, the proud fighting champion, they only want to see me for the beast they think I am. You know what I say to that? I’m going to let them. It’s time for all of us to accept who we are because when it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter. You’re still getting fucking bodied by Gawdnilla his dayum self anyways. I’m taking back Action Wrestling, starting with you, starting with this tournament, starting with MY WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!!!
R o u n d O n e
F i g h t
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And so the story goes
When I leave will you let me go?
When the words stop coming
And the fear starts setting in slow
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B e g i n I n s t a n c e
//run.gawdnilla.exe//
His head pounded as he attempted to open his eyes and gain bearing of his surroundings. The past few weeks had all felt like a blur, but nothing compared to this. Wade felt around and warm concrete responded to the brash tips of his fingers, similarly lamenting his position. Bright orange sunlight greeted his optics as he looked up from his prone position. He saw outlines of people walking by him as if he weren’t there. A glass bottle that had been resting underneath his torso clinked across the concrete as he pulled himself to a sitting position.
He tried his best to acclimate to his surroundings but the thumping in his head beat furiously as if daring him to get the situation under control. He thought of laying back down in the gutter and reaffirming to his new place in this world...but a sharp pain coursed through his temple and it’s as if the floodgates holding back his memories opened and gave berth to a menagerie of thoughts and feelings that felt foreign...alien...comforting.
He recalled going to the club the night before, but the memory was still fuzzy on who he was with. He drank, he partied, he fucked, all good shit but the why was still jumbled. Someone with a hazy face lead him along, as if he were telling him where to go, what to do, how to feel. Wade felt a completely offensive, glorious surrender of control. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt good not to worry anymore. Somebody upstairs was taking care of that for him. He just had to laugh, drunk, fuck.
K I L L
T H E M
A L L
He shook off the feeling as the lights around him softened their glare and time became loose. The world around him seemed to soften its grip around his heart and he felt himself smile. Smile, and laugh.
Smile
And
Laugh
And
Smile
And
Laugh
He pushed himself up off the ground, stumbling a little as he felt punch drunk on life. People made way for the hulking, imposing figure making his way down the Main Street and towards...something. It felt as if a hook was jammed under his sternum and dragging him in the right direction, but in a more pleasant way. He turned a corner and was greeted by a familiar sight.
An old friend.
“Swagrid, my motherfucking man!” he yelled as he wrapped his toned arms around the monolith of a man.
Wade returned his embrace, as old friends do.
“Jared, it’s been too long baby”, Wade replied, that same dopey smile plastered on his face, “Where were you?”
I n T h e E x i s t e n c e
“I was looking for you!” he replied, “We were at the club and next thing I know you wandered off. I thought you were actually hurt man, what the fuck?”
Jared playfully punched him on the arm. Wade just kept smiling and laughing.
“I passed out in the alley, I guess”, Wade said, “I honestly don’t even remember.”
“Classic fuckin’ Wade”, Jared returned.
“Yeah man, no doubt”, Wade replied, “Uh, where are we?”
“England you munt”, Jared scolded, “We have Clash in like nine hours, let’s go get ready.”
Something was off. Wade could recall his time in Action Wrestling prior to suspension. The memories were there but they felt...injected. Jared was acting friendly, but uneasy, as if he expected Wade to go off any minute now.
“Yeah, lets go get ready man”, Wade replied.
They walked down the street casually, but the suns glare started to harsh again and that thumping in Wade’s head was returning at a steady beat.
“Hey Wade man”, Jared said, “Ride
O r D i e R i g h t ?
The street was swoozy back and forth as Wade was transported into an alternate reality. An A E S T H E T I C R E A L I T Y where worry, shame, guilt all melted to the wayside and he was
F I N A L L Y F R E E
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A P o e m B y W a d e M o o r
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When you know everyone is capable of
Evil, it makes the world seem less daunting
As the ebb and flow of time let’s loose
Reality bends and construct becomes meaningless
Everyone is capable of evil
#facts
But once in a while
Evil is beyond our perception
And nothing really matters
Cares go out the window
Hell is meaningless, everything is evil
Knocking at your door
Roaring in your mind
Evil is just another
Word for how wonderful life can be
The stars will let you know
It's over
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“They say that dreams are just a construct of the machine, planted in your mind to further control your thoughts, and therefore your actions.”
Wade sat at a stool of a dingy, poorly lit bar in the middle of some fringe town. The kind of town where people didn’t come to live, they came to die, but they were going to have a good time doing it. His mouth was agape still from the words bestowed upon him by his one, true partner in this world, Bonnie Blue. She took a sip from her nearly depleted mug of beer and called for another one.
“What did you just say?” Wade asked, still gawking in confusion.
“I asked if you were enjoying yourself?” she asked, “You’ve been a million miles away all night.”
She polished off her drink as the lanky, hairy bartender in the Tommy Bahama shirt set another one down in front of her.
“Sorry”, he replied, taking in a glance of his surroundings once more, “I honestly have no idea. I think I’m just tired.”
“Wade Moor? Tired?!” she exclaimed, “I wasn’t even sure you knew that word existed.”
“Yeah well...”, he replied, taking a hearty drink from his beer, “...even God took one day off.”
Bonnie giggled and a little bit of beer dribbled from her mouth. Her eyes widened as she grabbed a napkin nearby to clean herself up with. As she leaned forward on the bar, a quartet of men appeared behind her, towards the back of the bar near the restrooms. She reared back, obscuring his vision, and when Wade went to look around her at the group, they were gone.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked, “We can go back to the hotel room if you want?”
“No, I’m fine”, he replied, “I don’t know where I am.”
“You’re in the EXISTENCE”, she replied, her normally oceanic blue eyes now a smatter of matte grey.
“What?!” he asked as his warm bones started to feel frozen, “Where is that?!”
Bonnie was gone now. Instead replaced by one of the men who was standing behind her earlier. His True Face was hidden, instead Wade was looking back in to his own reflection.
“Having a good time Wade?” a familiar, male voice asked, “You seem a million miles away.”
Wade took another sip of his beer as he tried to make heads or tails of the situation. Under normal circumstances, he would have removed himself from the bar or smashed this mans face into the wood laden countertop, but he felt rooted to the spot as if his actions were predetermined and he wasn’t meant to leave this seat. Instead, he asked questions, seemingly of his own volition.
“What is this?” Wade asked, “Who are you?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?” the mirror man asked, “We don’t want to go back to the Scrub Protocol.”
Wade wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but his imagination was daunting and he knew he wanted no part of this “Scrub Protocol”.
“No, I don’t want that”, Wade replied.
And as he replied, he felt hundreds of tomes - each boasting over a thousand pages of memories - return to him. They told him tales he couldn’t remember until they resurfaced in his minds eye. Some of them joyful, some lamentable, none of them viable scripts, all of them false. Every one of them had commonalities though as each one involved Bonnie Blue and the Mirror Man. When Wade reentered the instance, he was sat on the floor leaning back against the bar.
“What do you want from me?” Wade asked.
T o B e F r e e
The Mirror Mans voice floated along the walls and echoed in his soul.
“How do I do that?” Wade questioned, “Please...let me out.”
“He’s ready”, The Mirror Man replied, “Wake him up.”
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
><><><>< A C Q U I S I T I O N ><><><><
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Oh please rest assured this was not my fault
And time is getting short
So I'll be here if you want me
Beaten and covered in a red so bloody
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
“Sydney Warwick...I can’t say I’m surprised to see you with my World Heavyweight Championship. You’re a decent enough wrestler boasting a lot of personality with an act that the internet smarks eat up and ask for seconds.The only person standing in your way was Roy Speede and anyone can beat him on their worst day. Your road to the AW World Heavyweight Championship was paved sturdier than the path you took in WCF, it was only a matter of time until you claimed what was yours. Or rather, what is mine, because it was only a matter of time before I came back and laid claim to the World.
“I suppose I owe you an apology this time. I’m sorry I have to return in a match against you and completely cripple your title reign for the second time. This is just how the chips fall for Sydney Warwick when it comes to Wade Moor. I know you’re sitting in your luxury one bedroom mental prison cooking up a diabolical plot on how I’ve offended your delicate sensibilities. Did I man-spread too hard in the locker room once? Have I used words that go against your prescribed lexicon? You know, everyone likes to say that the American people are bred weak now, but I think it’s just that people have always been weak, there’s just more social news coverage now.
“This includes you, Sydney. If the world as we know it were to end tomorrow, who do you think people would look to for comfort and protection? If you’re thinking yourself, then I couldn’t blame you. It’s ok to have wrong fucking opinions sometimes, something your parents never bothered to beat into your brain. That’s ok though, I’m here to pick up where they slacked off. Maybe I’ll beat you so fucking bad you’ll slip in to another retarded masked frenzy and let loose your primal instincts? I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that entire episode, to be completely honest, and I think I finally put my finger on the pulse of Sydney Warwick.
“Get this, your time in the mask was us finally seeing you for who you actually are. Under the mask of PC culture, confirmation bias, and just all around snark douchery we got the real Sydney Warwick. The lude, crass, womanizing piece of actual human shit that you are. Real, subconscious desires brought to fruition under the guise of Max Masked. Didn’t it feel good to finally let loose the baying hounds, those dogs of war? You found relative success for where you were and what you were doing, but you knew you couldn’t keep up the persona much longer. The masks grip was tight but you knew to make it further up the mountain you would have to evolve eventually.”
Wade runs his fingers slow and firm down his face, red imprints left in their wake.
“That’s when you came up with Action Wrestling’s greatest coup outside Torture absolutely rawdogging my Heavyweight Championship reign. You would unmask Max Masked and come up with some fugue frenzy story that everybody with half a brain cell - aka all of your fans - would yuck up with a hearty helping of gravy. Good thing this woke motherfucker could see right through your bullshit. In fact, I’ve seen through it since day one my nilla, from the moment you first appeared on WCF television. While everyone was heralding Sydney J. Warwick as a true transcendent warrior of the people, I was quaking with the rage of an idol god.
“It’s not even the fact that you’re transgender that upsets me Warwick. I could honestly give a shit less what you believe you are or identify as. You could see yourself as a horned frog and I would still crush you like the insufferable mite that you are. It’s not that at all. It’s that you hid from this revelation as if you were shamed by it, as if accepting who you are is some crippling physical blow. In the name of ‘progress’ you decided to finally reveal to the world your birth identity and the subsequent flow of support was overwhelming. Yet, I stood watching from the shadows, still quivering in anger. I found out a little later that it was at the behest of reporter Hank Brown that you decided to come out, certainly sullying your decision. I know he’s like a dog with a bone, a toddler peeling back the wallpaper when he has a story as juicy as that...but what in the holy fuck, Syd?
“If you had as much pride in your identity as you would lead us to believe, then we would already have this information - not that it would save you from subsequent ass beatings from yours truly, but still, all the cards would be on the table. You single handedly set the trans community back in one fell swoop and still continue to do so to this day with your ridiculous antics and false flag promo material. You’re just a peddler of extremist emotion, someone who certainly understands the plight of the world they’re living in but still fails to grasp the human condition. You’re taking advantage of people looking for someone, anyone to follow in these trying times. That doesn’t make you any better than the people you’re setting out against, in my honest opinion. You might be asking yourself how this information is even relevant, and trust me, we’ll get down to the nitty gritty...but there’s something I have to address before I move on with this verbal decimation.
“Torture, my man, how’s it going? I’m sure you’re slightly anxious to have me back in Action Wrestling after that walloping Broseidon Punch you ate on ‘my departure’. ‘My departure’ is a diplomatic way of putting it. You all but shoved me out of active competition by renting the World Heavyweight Championship from my meaty fingers. When I signed my name on the dotted line, I asked you for one thing and one thing only; to face the absolute best this federation has to offer and you force fed me Roy Speede for nigh on three months. I did my best to turn chicken shit into chicken salad but Speede is the blandest, most uninspiring opponent one could be cursed to lock horns with. I’d even give it to you if there was actual reason to believe that he stood a chance in hell of actually defeating me...
“That’s not how it went down though, is it? You trusted your charge Speede to best me in combat inside the squared circle, that failed. You sent one of your crooked referees out to the ring to fast count me. That failed. That’s when you showed your ugly snek face at ringside and stole MY WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP FROM ME!!! Now why, pray tell, would you want something like that to happen? I think Roy Speede all but proved his viability as a consistent champion when he lost in his first title defense. Then he went and lost what credibility he managed to scrape together by losing in his first title defense again.
“That’s who you were so set on having the championship? Was it the deal with CBS, Torture? Did you sell out Action Wrestling’s greatest champion for a bigger bottom line? I thought you had more pride than that. Not only were you intent on having a weaker champion but now you’re playing loose with your ethics? What a disgusting, piece of shit move. I did everything I was supposed to and I did it all within the confines of the rules, Torture. I won the Havoc Rumble, I main evented Evolution, I beat Spencer Adams and Ryan Lockhart for the World Heavyweight Championship. If it wasn’t for me, there might not even have been an Action Wrestling or a Torture that could totally fuck me over.
“I kept my head down, I’ve been your good little workhorse, but all that’s about to change. I built this company, brick by brick, and I’m going to take it all back. Starting with your new champion Sydney J. Warwick. I want you to watch closely this week, Torture. I want you to watch as I systematically dismantle Warwick live in front of twenty four thousand people and everyone viewing from home. Every strike, every slam, every high impact maneuver, I want you to watch me put a little stank on it. Then I want you to know that it hurts me a lot worse than it’s going to hurt Sydney.
“I did everything I could for this company as Wade Moor. I put it on my back when nobody else could shoulder that burden. Now we have stockholders, a board of directors...all that shit that lets the world know we have more money than brains. I was so dedicated to turning over a new leaf in Action Wrestling I forgot how quickly it could be burned away. Not anymore, things are about to change in Action Wrestling, starting with this Wrestler of the Year Tournament. You were probably hoping, or praying, that I’d forgotten about you Warwick.
“If this were a competition based on accolades, Sydney, we all know who the front runner would be. I don’t even need to list my accomplishments and everyone would know that Wade Moor is, in fact, Wrestler of the Year here in Action Wrestling. As far as I’m concerned, nobody here holds a candle to my impressive feats, including you Sydney. I know faux modesty is more your wheelhouse, but I’m done with that crap. I’m done with the idea that Warwick has any place in the World Championship conversation when Wade Moor is back. I’m finished with the Sydney J. Warwick experiment all together.
“I left you hanging a little while back - as any good executioner would do - when I told you we’d get down to the nitty gritty, and we’re coming full circle. Nobody wants to see this Wade Moor, the proud fighting champion, they only want to see me for the beast they think I am. You know what I say to that? I’m going to let them. It’s time for all of us to accept who we are because when it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter. You’re still getting fucking bodied by Gawdnilla his dayum self anyways. I’m taking back Action Wrestling, starting with you, starting with this tournament, starting with MY WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!!!
R o u n d O n e
F i g h t
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
And so the story goes
When I leave will you let me go?
When the words stop coming
And the fear starts setting in slow
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
B e g i n I n s t a n c e
//run.gawdnilla.exe//
His head pounded as he attempted to open his eyes and gain bearing of his surroundings. The past few weeks had all felt like a blur, but nothing compared to this. Wade felt around and warm concrete responded to the brash tips of his fingers, similarly lamenting his position. Bright orange sunlight greeted his optics as he looked up from his prone position. He saw outlines of people walking by him as if he weren’t there. A glass bottle that had been resting underneath his torso clinked across the concrete as he pulled himself to a sitting position.
He tried his best to acclimate to his surroundings but the thumping in his head beat furiously as if daring him to get the situation under control. He thought of laying back down in the gutter and reaffirming to his new place in this world...but a sharp pain coursed through his temple and it’s as if the floodgates holding back his memories opened and gave berth to a menagerie of thoughts and feelings that felt foreign...alien...comforting.
He recalled going to the club the night before, but the memory was still fuzzy on who he was with. He drank, he partied, he fucked, all good shit but the why was still jumbled. Someone with a hazy face lead him along, as if he were telling him where to go, what to do, how to feel. Wade felt a completely offensive, glorious surrender of control. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt good not to worry anymore. Somebody upstairs was taking care of that for him. He just had to laugh, drunk, fuck.
K I L L
T H E M
A L L
He shook off the feeling as the lights around him softened their glare and time became loose. The world around him seemed to soften its grip around his heart and he felt himself smile. Smile, and laugh.
Smile
And
Laugh
And
Smile
And
Laugh
He pushed himself up off the ground, stumbling a little as he felt punch drunk on life. People made way for the hulking, imposing figure making his way down the Main Street and towards...something. It felt as if a hook was jammed under his sternum and dragging him in the right direction, but in a more pleasant way. He turned a corner and was greeted by a familiar sight.
An old friend.
“Swagrid, my motherfucking man!” he yelled as he wrapped his toned arms around the monolith of a man.
Wade returned his embrace, as old friends do.
“Jared, it’s been too long baby”, Wade replied, that same dopey smile plastered on his face, “Where were you?”
I n T h e E x i s t e n c e
“I was looking for you!” he replied, “We were at the club and next thing I know you wandered off. I thought you were actually hurt man, what the fuck?”
Jared playfully punched him on the arm. Wade just kept smiling and laughing.
“I passed out in the alley, I guess”, Wade said, “I honestly don’t even remember.”
“Classic fuckin’ Wade”, Jared returned.
“Yeah man, no doubt”, Wade replied, “Uh, where are we?”
“England you munt”, Jared scolded, “We have Clash in like nine hours, let’s go get ready.”
Something was off. Wade could recall his time in Action Wrestling prior to suspension. The memories were there but they felt...injected. Jared was acting friendly, but uneasy, as if he expected Wade to go off any minute now.
“Yeah, lets go get ready man”, Wade replied.
They walked down the street casually, but the suns glare started to harsh again and that thumping in Wade’s head was returning at a steady beat.
“Hey Wade man”, Jared said, “Ride
O r D i e R i g h t ?
The street was swoozy back and forth as Wade was transported into an alternate reality. An A E S T H E T I C R E A L I T Y where worry, shame, guilt all melted to the wayside and he was
F I N A L L Y F R E E
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A P o e m B y W a d e M o o r
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When you know everyone is capable of
Evil, it makes the world seem less daunting
As the ebb and flow of time let’s loose
Reality bends and construct becomes meaningless
Everyone is capable of evil
#facts
But once in a while
Evil is beyond our perception
And nothing really matters
Cares go out the window
Hell is meaningless, everything is evil
Knocking at your door
Roaring in your mind
Evil is just another
Word for how wonderful life can be