“The Leviathans Tale II: T h e W o r l d”
Apr 19, 2019 14:50:35 GMT -5
via mobile
Jordan, Lockhart, and 4 more like this
Post by Wade Moor on Apr 19, 2019 14:50:35 GMT -5
And I’m walking around town again
And I’m looking for a best friend
One that I could build a nest in
One that I could leave some sex in
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“Regret. Misery. The agonizing pain of defeat. This is what awaits you all at Havoc - and trust me when I say the name is truly fitting...”
Wade Moor - That GAWDKING GAWDNILLA GAWD DAMNED LEVIATHAN - laughs way back in the back of his throat. He’s feeling a little nostalgic. A little #TBT if you will.
“We’ve been here before haven’t we? One year removed from the very first Havoc Rumble - which I won, by the by - and I can say that I’ve done exactly everything I said I was going to do, plus some. Havoc Rumble Winner. Action Wrestling World Champion. Wrestler of the Year. It’s been a pretty decent year for ya nilla. This is where most men would hang up their hydra skin leather fedoras and call it a career...but I’m not most men. I’m the one, the only, and I never rest. I’ll call it a career when I’m fucking dead. Respect. And give me the receipt.
“This is most definitely bad news for the entirety of the Action Wrestling roster, because as I mentioned before, I won the Havoc Rumble last year. I know exactly what it takes to survive in this match and that’s a kind of killer instinct that never leaves you. You’re born with it, shaped by it, you live your life by it, or you scrape and claw. I know a lot of you have been ‘falling up’ here lately and that’s purely because I’ve allowed it. I took that proverbial - and hearty - step back to see who in turn would rise up from the primordial ooze. Color me unsurprised when nobody did, or could, or ever even dreamt about it. What a shame. What an absolute god damn tragic shame. I’m ashamed for y’all. Don’t worry though, Action Wrestling, daddies home. Three in the morning, wasted out of his damn mind, swinging a belt around yelling about the mess y’all left in the kitchen.
“Where do I even begin? I’ll start at the muck and mire and work my way towards more uh...capable individuals, if you will. All you 201 dweebs content with milling about in absolute waste. When the best part of your division was Jaice Wilds four months ago you know you’re having god damn problems. ‘But Wade!’ you shout from a rooftop of a building that’s on fire, ‘wHaT aBoUt QuIxOtE dElLa ToRrE?!’ Shut your dumb mouths you bum midgets. QDT should be tearing it up near the top of the card, but yet, he doesn’t? Why? Why, I ask. Because he’s fucking lazy. Content with slapping around the worst of the worst like the fifth grade bully. We get it. You’re the best of the riff raff, but riff raff you remain my son, my total disappointment. Shoot me a text when you decide to rise from the dregs and make me proud, urchin.”
Wade’s counting his fingers and toes by this point, wondering whomst exactly he’s fixin’ to verbally sodomize. He’s got the sewage of Action Wrestling to contend with but them’s just numbers in the grand scheme of things, baby. Order of elimination is the only thing they’ll be known for.
“What next? How about this buxom bitch that lucked into the Television Championship while the Dream Daddies kids are at home absolutely STAHVIN - Hazel Overton. Maaaaaaan, I ain’t ever seen such a relic of an absolutely bygone era before. I’m surprised you aren’t walking around here calling yourself ‘Top Diva’ or some shit. ‘The Bitch’ is almost fitting. ‘Wade’s Bitch’ is more like it, though, and will be your top billed moniker after Havoc is said and done. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Twin peaks, ammirite? You’re used to that by now, being handed things? That speaks volumes, my daughter. Not so much how highly they think of you to ‘award’ you the Television Championship, but just how little they think of that leather and gold to give it to someone whose barely fit to lick the boots of the greats who’ve held that belt.
“Sad state of affairs that Action Wrestling has found itself in this calendar year. Sad state of affairs, indeed. It’s so sad indeed that I’ve found myself on the nasty side of defeat at Monday Night Clash of Champions. You heard that correctly. Wade Moor can still lose in this day and age...but can we really chalk it up as a loss, though? I mean, no disrespect, but the Tag Team Championship belts are C-tier at absolute best. You won’t catch them main eventing pay per views any time soon, even with Pasternak and I holding them. It’s not an indictment on us, it’s telling of just how shallow that pool is at present time. Sharks need a lot of water to stretch their fin-cocks out and the tag team division is a kiddy pool. Talent Enhancers, Red White & Bruised, Bishop, Priest, even them Cowboys From Hell...they got them god damn floaty wings on chumming the waters. Shiiit even when Wade Moor is losing, he’s winning.
“Still wasn’t enough to feed ya boy. You know me, look at me, I’m hungry as fuck - and I’m not fit to be a C player. I’m the only S in this business - barring my guys in #beachkrew of course. When I’m at the top of game, there truly isn’t a soul who can hang with my stuff, plain and simple. I’m not trying to be that guy but uh...I’d go so far to say that the only reason my mans Ryan is World ChampYun right now is because I’m not. I’m a giving Gawd, as it is, and it’s definitely my dudes year. The only problem is the Year always comes to an end, then it’s next in line, and I’m not waiting at the back anymore.
“The back is reserved for the Spencer Adams and the Lincoln Kuechlys. A couple of ‘failure to launches’, per se. Lincoln’s drowning in one too many paradigm shifts and Spencer’s still leading him on, making him believe he could still be something. Spencer’s number one quality, which just so happens to be his number one pitfall, is how fiercely loyal he is, even to men who would like to see him destroyed. They both just may get their end away, yet, as hey simultaneously flush each other’s careers down the toilet. Go ahead with these cage matches, these wakanda street fights, whatever the fuck gimmick match ups you two cook up in your depraved minds. Shorten your careers and make a mockery of the business, bruhs. I’m all for it, encouraging as it were.
“The idea that either of you two could potentially walk away as winners of the Havoc Rumble is laughable at best. Spencer peaked about seven months ago and Lincoln’s still scraping himself off the arena floor every week while proffering big kid shit. The idea is almost as laughable as Kyle Kemp winning this shit. I’ve spent the last year absolutely ripping Kemp to shreds and I almost feel bad that I have to do it again.”
Wade laughs agaaaaaaaaaaain.
“Almost. You see, smacking Kyle Kemp around like my bottom bunker has become almost a casual pass time for me, like any random pleb booting up candy crush on their phones. It’s easy, mindless, a great serotonin release, and it’s objectively healthy. Kind of like masturbation. I just compared beating the holy fuck out of Kemp to pulling my pud. Hell yeah, twenty nineteen. Anyways, I don’t think Kemp’s got IT. If he had IT he would have shown it to us a looooooooong time ago, but here we are, nearly a decade into your career and the biggest thing you can brag about is that you haven’t been murdered by me yet. What a career accomplishment, but it all comes crashing down as I turn your boyhood dream into a nightmare when I throw you over the top rope and dash your fancies of winning the rumble.
“Speaking of dashed dreams and flights of fancy; how’s it going Alex? I heard you finally won the WCF World Championship. Congratulations would be in order if you winning the ‘BIG ONE’ wasn’t the absolute death knell in the coffin of any federation. It’s no coincidence that they hadn’t even got your custom plates on the Championship belt before going completely bankrupt and shutting the doors. Defining it as a bankrupt wouldn’t even do it justice; it was more like destitution. When have you brought value to any company you’ve worked for? You’ve been a solid mid card act for years but anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that you just aren’t main event shit. The well on your schtick is beyond depleted and I’m unsure if you’re capable of Evolution this late in the game. Chances are you won’t be going to it either, not with the bane of your miserable existence on the opposite side of that ring from you. They’ll have to call in a meat wagon to scrape up what’s left of you off the arena floor when I’m done, and after I send ya straight to Hell at Havoc - tell Bonnie I said hey.”
Whose next on the chopping block. Wade flips through that mental rolodex, that laughable peanut gallery that Action Wrestlings offered up. Wade’s a B i g H e a l t h y B o y and he was hawngrier n’ a bitch.
“Yo, Shadow, my mans...how did it feel to get laced up by Lockhart so ungracefully? It’s like you’re always talking, but you’re never really saying much, ya feel me? I feel like I’ve tried to tell you this before but arguments fall on the deafest of ears. You know why you’ve never won the World Championship? It’s not some blanket conspiracy to keep the most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, ‘The Handsome Half-breed’ down. Nah, it runs deeper than that but the problem is you only go skin deep. Beyond the chiseled features, the perfectly quaffed hair, and washboard abs is absolutely nothing. A perfectly sculpted Mary Sue just trying his best not to get exposed...but uh, The Leviathan don’t play that whack shit. At all.
“You don’t need a hundred adjectives to describe what you are, only one: an abject failure. What has become the crux of your existence is now a crutch. No, a hindrance. You have your foot in your mouth before you even open it, which makes it difficult to swallow all that crow after you bite it week after week. Your recent success in the Battlebowl tournament is very telling of your career; you’ve always needed somebody holding your hand, pointing you in the right direction. Even with all that guidance you somehow manage to fuck it all up anyways. You stumbled into a World Championship match by absolute luck and did exactly what everyone thought you would. You failed. Just like you’ll fail at Havoc. You just don’t have what it takes to finish, Shadow, and you never will.”
Wade cracks his knuckles and pops his neck, sending a reverberating CRRRRRRRKKKKKKKTH down his spine and deep into the bowels of his krakenous gut.
“I wonder which one of them WCF ‘SUPERSTARS’ are gonna try and step into my ring and attempt to make a name for themselves in Action Wrestling this year. I know the pickins we’re getting pretty slim towards the end there, but there was still a veritable field of pretenders...err, ‘contenders’ on the old roster. Nothing too fancy, but maybe Ol Mikey X is gonna come drop one half of that HAWT AMERICAN on us? Maybe Thievin’ Steven will capture lightning in a bottle and manage to get over somehow? Saw we had James Wolf on the payroll now, just give us Scott Slayer and got the makings of some sweet jobberlyah.
“Fuck me, imagine if my old boy Dune showed up this time? It was weird how well the two of us clicked, all things considered. It’s like you spend so much time beating hard on a motherfucker that you learn the ins and outs of their mind. Something cosmic finally synchronizes and it makes for some polarizing good shit - not unlike Lockhart and I, or Pasternak even. His biggest downfall was his undying loyalty to a dying brand, which absolutely makes me question his mentality. Underneath the mask and the scars was just a scared little kid looking for a place to call home. What a coward. A fool. A weakling. Typical WCF fare, breeding the weakest of men. Not a one of them knows how to really sink their teeth into anything, just a bunch of overrated zealots, no exception. They don’t have the chops to come to my house and fight in my ring, let alone win the most important event of the year. Simply laughable.”
No shit, Wade laughs. He laughs because it is indeed the funniest thaaaaaang he’s heard in a while.
“I would be remiss not to address one of the biggest challenges in this match, yet, another one of these spooky motherfuckers but one with a track record to back it all up. NvL, you absolute unit, I gotta hand it to you man, you really dropped in the deep end of Action Wrestling with a splash. You really came out swinging on these plebs straight up, no regards for their well beings. That’s that shit i do like, if I’m being honest. It would be a mistake if I didn’t mention that you possess that same killer instinct that I do, really and truly, you do. Real recognizes real, no doubt. Your problem is these is troubled waters, my son, and I’m about to show you why the biggest splash attracts the most attention. The nail that sticks up gets hammered down first.
“You can try and deny it all you want, but I find it hilarious that you’ve found yourself at Gravediggers beck and call. It’s unbecoming of a man of the sport like yourself. I never mistook you as someone who could find themselves on the take like that. Yeah, ya don’t do it for money, ya do it for blood or some extremist bullshit...but god damn, man, have some respect for yourself. Are you actually the most dangerous NvL that lives in the annals of legend? Or are you just Gravediggers glorified bodyguard? He’ll defend you to his last breath but I see right through it. I’ve made a career out of exposing ‘monsters’ for the ‘men’ they are. You’re not a demon, you’re a dog who comes when he’s called. You’re good, but I’m simply better. No matter how hard you try, you don’t win over Wade Moor at the Havoc Rumble. I don’t have to ask anyone’s permission to win.”
Wade cracks that GAWDNILLA DAMNED smile up over the side of his cheek, that perfectly trimmed beard sculpted in the light of the receding sun.
“The sun goes down for all the ‘never will, never coulds’ that are walking into this match. Yeah, you know who you are. The ‘Claire Hawkins’, the ‘Sam Kidsgroves’, The ‘Baz’, ‘Titan Jax’, and ‘Chase Jacksons’ of Action Wresting. You know the types. The ones that will proffer big shit about how this is their moment in the sun, to bask in them glorious rays, but they have their heads so far up their own asses it’s a wonder they can catch their breath let alone victory in their hands. I don’t have much time and I have to begin preparations for the Havoc Rumble soon. All I’m going to say is I ain’t taking you lightly, I’m just gonna make what I do to you look easy. Imagine that, the toughest, most difficult match of your career and I already got y’all pegged for losers. It’s ok though, you have to be used to it by now.”
That suns going down over the shoulder, the moon starts to twinkle somewhere in the distance. Wade looks up to it, his eyes turning a glossy black. Something hauntingly familiar about that old moon, no doubt.
“How does it feel Casey? To have finally retired the UCI Championship? Sounds like an honor. I would have loved nothing than to have finally deaded that company once and for all. Another breeding ground of weakness and cowardice. Spencer Adams little ant farm. It’s hard for me to take anything from UCI seriously, including you. Watching you whine about holding a championship belt regularly defended on pay per views made me want to cut my eyes out with a steak knife. Were the bonuses not big enough? Or were you not getting the respect you felt you deserved? Trust me, it wasn’t because of the UCI Championship, it was because of you. Nobody respects a whiney, manipulative shrew and that’s facts.
“I’ve never seen someone complain about being a reigning, defending champion before. Perhaps it’s what made you unique, but for me it just painted a massive target on your back. Torture promised you the ‘BIG ONE’ if you could hold it until Clash of Champions - which you did - and it was only then that you were proud of your achievement. As it came to an end, you finally found footing and solace as the UCI Championship. Just a little too late, in my honest opinion. Moseying through those last defenses has your guard absolutely down and you’re about to find out what it’s like when you have some decent competition in that squared circle. You’re about to step to the undisputed best in Wade Moor and that’s not a place you want to find yourself. Trust me.
“Whose next on the chopping block here? The pickings are getting slimmer and slimmer, but I must trudge forward. The Havoc Rumble belongs to me as it did last year, no matter how hard someone like Dandy DiVito must believe it’s his. I’ve met your type before Dandy, barely literate but your technical prowess and penchant for survival speak for themselves. This kind of match is your bread and butter. All this time you’ve spent trying to get over will surely help you elude detection in the Rumble. Like a thief in the night, you hope to steal the match and go to the Evolution main event. Even though you find yourself pretty high up on the food chain, there’s always someone higher than you. For you - and everyone else in this match - that person is me.
“I know people think I’ve been ‘taking it easy’ lately, and the fact of the matter is - I have. I have been ‘taking it easy’ and still I’ve dropped fools on the pavement left and right. My record and accolades speak for themselves and I’m looking to add that ‘big dick energy 2nd Havoc Rumble win’ to my list. What you got other than TWO X United States Champion and a handful of wins over one of the whackest dudes in the federation? A million dollars? Fuck off with that chump change. I got checks I haven’t even cashed yet sitting in the glove box of the VOLKSWAGGIN, PPV bonuses and the ilk. Money doesn’t mean a god damn thing in this business. It’s what you do to earn it that matters. I’m not afraid of doing what I know I have to do - I’m not afraid of what comes after I win the Havoc Rumble. I know exactly what this win entails and I’m all in prepared for it, my man. I know exactly who I’m staring down the ring at after the smoke clears in Sacramento...”
Wade takes a deep breath, exhales, them eyes going back to that ocean blue hue.
“My main mans Ryan Lockhart. The best in the business to this date...at least, he will be until Evolution when I reclaim my rightful spot as Action Wrestling World Champion. The match is absolute money, no question about it. People are already lining up for them tickets and the shit ain’t even set properly in stone yet, though undeniably it will be. This is his chance to prove that everything he’s claimed about himself is true to the teeth. Can Ryan Lockhart actually fall himself ‘the best’? Or will his one true Achilles heel call out and expose him?
“I know people are wondering why I would want to challenge my own stable mate at Evolution, but the fact that we’re working so closely together now just reasons further that this is the match everyone wants to see. Can Ryan Lockhart beat Wade Moor one on one? Has he truly taken the lessons I’ve taught him to heart, or has it all fallen on deaf ears and an ego beaten chest? You’ll have to wait until the main event of Evolution to find out. Until then, I’ll be seeing all of ya at the Havoc Rumble.
“And I’m about to kill ya all.”
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Wade stops the recording and sends it off to them Action Wrestling officials. He sinks his shoulders up, popping his neck and back, takes another deep breath...then looks up to that moon once more. Why was he so attracted to that silver disc in the sky? It was as if it were calling out to him, wet, wanting. He dropped to his knees and folded his hands together as silent drops of rain fell from the sky.
Was this a premonition? Another calling on the horizon? What did all these signs mean? Wade pondered the notion of miracles before settling on warning. Something wasn’t too far off in the distance, perhaps looking up towards the very same moon his eyes rested on at present time.
The World was finally for sell, but Wade wasn’t looking to buy. He was looking to take, and he would take it by any means necessary. He started to laugh under the bright moon light as the rain turned into an all out storm, thunder boomed as lightning cracked, yet still the bright moon remained unshrouded by cloud. He held his hands up, braying into the sky, calling to finally
C o m e H o m e
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And I’m walking round town again
And I’m looking for a fortune
One that I could buy
T h e W o r l d
with
And I’m looking for a best friend
One that I could build a nest in
One that I could leave some sex in
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“Regret. Misery. The agonizing pain of defeat. This is what awaits you all at Havoc - and trust me when I say the name is truly fitting...”
Wade Moor - That GAWDKING GAWDNILLA GAWD DAMNED LEVIATHAN - laughs way back in the back of his throat. He’s feeling a little nostalgic. A little #TBT if you will.
“We’ve been here before haven’t we? One year removed from the very first Havoc Rumble - which I won, by the by - and I can say that I’ve done exactly everything I said I was going to do, plus some. Havoc Rumble Winner. Action Wrestling World Champion. Wrestler of the Year. It’s been a pretty decent year for ya nilla. This is where most men would hang up their hydra skin leather fedoras and call it a career...but I’m not most men. I’m the one, the only, and I never rest. I’ll call it a career when I’m fucking dead. Respect. And give me the receipt.
“This is most definitely bad news for the entirety of the Action Wrestling roster, because as I mentioned before, I won the Havoc Rumble last year. I know exactly what it takes to survive in this match and that’s a kind of killer instinct that never leaves you. You’re born with it, shaped by it, you live your life by it, or you scrape and claw. I know a lot of you have been ‘falling up’ here lately and that’s purely because I’ve allowed it. I took that proverbial - and hearty - step back to see who in turn would rise up from the primordial ooze. Color me unsurprised when nobody did, or could, or ever even dreamt about it. What a shame. What an absolute god damn tragic shame. I’m ashamed for y’all. Don’t worry though, Action Wrestling, daddies home. Three in the morning, wasted out of his damn mind, swinging a belt around yelling about the mess y’all left in the kitchen.
“Where do I even begin? I’ll start at the muck and mire and work my way towards more uh...capable individuals, if you will. All you 201 dweebs content with milling about in absolute waste. When the best part of your division was Jaice Wilds four months ago you know you’re having god damn problems. ‘But Wade!’ you shout from a rooftop of a building that’s on fire, ‘wHaT aBoUt QuIxOtE dElLa ToRrE?!’ Shut your dumb mouths you bum midgets. QDT should be tearing it up near the top of the card, but yet, he doesn’t? Why? Why, I ask. Because he’s fucking lazy. Content with slapping around the worst of the worst like the fifth grade bully. We get it. You’re the best of the riff raff, but riff raff you remain my son, my total disappointment. Shoot me a text when you decide to rise from the dregs and make me proud, urchin.”
Wade’s counting his fingers and toes by this point, wondering whomst exactly he’s fixin’ to verbally sodomize. He’s got the sewage of Action Wrestling to contend with but them’s just numbers in the grand scheme of things, baby. Order of elimination is the only thing they’ll be known for.
“What next? How about this buxom bitch that lucked into the Television Championship while the Dream Daddies kids are at home absolutely STAHVIN - Hazel Overton. Maaaaaaan, I ain’t ever seen such a relic of an absolutely bygone era before. I’m surprised you aren’t walking around here calling yourself ‘Top Diva’ or some shit. ‘The Bitch’ is almost fitting. ‘Wade’s Bitch’ is more like it, though, and will be your top billed moniker after Havoc is said and done. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Twin peaks, ammirite? You’re used to that by now, being handed things? That speaks volumes, my daughter. Not so much how highly they think of you to ‘award’ you the Television Championship, but just how little they think of that leather and gold to give it to someone whose barely fit to lick the boots of the greats who’ve held that belt.
“Sad state of affairs that Action Wrestling has found itself in this calendar year. Sad state of affairs, indeed. It’s so sad indeed that I’ve found myself on the nasty side of defeat at Monday Night Clash of Champions. You heard that correctly. Wade Moor can still lose in this day and age...but can we really chalk it up as a loss, though? I mean, no disrespect, but the Tag Team Championship belts are C-tier at absolute best. You won’t catch them main eventing pay per views any time soon, even with Pasternak and I holding them. It’s not an indictment on us, it’s telling of just how shallow that pool is at present time. Sharks need a lot of water to stretch their fin-cocks out and the tag team division is a kiddy pool. Talent Enhancers, Red White & Bruised, Bishop, Priest, even them Cowboys From Hell...they got them god damn floaty wings on chumming the waters. Shiiit even when Wade Moor is losing, he’s winning.
“Still wasn’t enough to feed ya boy. You know me, look at me, I’m hungry as fuck - and I’m not fit to be a C player. I’m the only S in this business - barring my guys in #beachkrew of course. When I’m at the top of game, there truly isn’t a soul who can hang with my stuff, plain and simple. I’m not trying to be that guy but uh...I’d go so far to say that the only reason my mans Ryan is World ChampYun right now is because I’m not. I’m a giving Gawd, as it is, and it’s definitely my dudes year. The only problem is the Year always comes to an end, then it’s next in line, and I’m not waiting at the back anymore.
“The back is reserved for the Spencer Adams and the Lincoln Kuechlys. A couple of ‘failure to launches’, per se. Lincoln’s drowning in one too many paradigm shifts and Spencer’s still leading him on, making him believe he could still be something. Spencer’s number one quality, which just so happens to be his number one pitfall, is how fiercely loyal he is, even to men who would like to see him destroyed. They both just may get their end away, yet, as hey simultaneously flush each other’s careers down the toilet. Go ahead with these cage matches, these wakanda street fights, whatever the fuck gimmick match ups you two cook up in your depraved minds. Shorten your careers and make a mockery of the business, bruhs. I’m all for it, encouraging as it were.
“The idea that either of you two could potentially walk away as winners of the Havoc Rumble is laughable at best. Spencer peaked about seven months ago and Lincoln’s still scraping himself off the arena floor every week while proffering big kid shit. The idea is almost as laughable as Kyle Kemp winning this shit. I’ve spent the last year absolutely ripping Kemp to shreds and I almost feel bad that I have to do it again.”
Wade laughs agaaaaaaaaaaain.
“Almost. You see, smacking Kyle Kemp around like my bottom bunker has become almost a casual pass time for me, like any random pleb booting up candy crush on their phones. It’s easy, mindless, a great serotonin release, and it’s objectively healthy. Kind of like masturbation. I just compared beating the holy fuck out of Kemp to pulling my pud. Hell yeah, twenty nineteen. Anyways, I don’t think Kemp’s got IT. If he had IT he would have shown it to us a looooooooong time ago, but here we are, nearly a decade into your career and the biggest thing you can brag about is that you haven’t been murdered by me yet. What a career accomplishment, but it all comes crashing down as I turn your boyhood dream into a nightmare when I throw you over the top rope and dash your fancies of winning the rumble.
“Speaking of dashed dreams and flights of fancy; how’s it going Alex? I heard you finally won the WCF World Championship. Congratulations would be in order if you winning the ‘BIG ONE’ wasn’t the absolute death knell in the coffin of any federation. It’s no coincidence that they hadn’t even got your custom plates on the Championship belt before going completely bankrupt and shutting the doors. Defining it as a bankrupt wouldn’t even do it justice; it was more like destitution. When have you brought value to any company you’ve worked for? You’ve been a solid mid card act for years but anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that you just aren’t main event shit. The well on your schtick is beyond depleted and I’m unsure if you’re capable of Evolution this late in the game. Chances are you won’t be going to it either, not with the bane of your miserable existence on the opposite side of that ring from you. They’ll have to call in a meat wagon to scrape up what’s left of you off the arena floor when I’m done, and after I send ya straight to Hell at Havoc - tell Bonnie I said hey.”
Whose next on the chopping block. Wade flips through that mental rolodex, that laughable peanut gallery that Action Wrestlings offered up. Wade’s a B i g H e a l t h y B o y and he was hawngrier n’ a bitch.
“Yo, Shadow, my mans...how did it feel to get laced up by Lockhart so ungracefully? It’s like you’re always talking, but you’re never really saying much, ya feel me? I feel like I’ve tried to tell you this before but arguments fall on the deafest of ears. You know why you’ve never won the World Championship? It’s not some blanket conspiracy to keep the most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, ‘The Handsome Half-breed’ down. Nah, it runs deeper than that but the problem is you only go skin deep. Beyond the chiseled features, the perfectly quaffed hair, and washboard abs is absolutely nothing. A perfectly sculpted Mary Sue just trying his best not to get exposed...but uh, The Leviathan don’t play that whack shit. At all.
“You don’t need a hundred adjectives to describe what you are, only one: an abject failure. What has become the crux of your existence is now a crutch. No, a hindrance. You have your foot in your mouth before you even open it, which makes it difficult to swallow all that crow after you bite it week after week. Your recent success in the Battlebowl tournament is very telling of your career; you’ve always needed somebody holding your hand, pointing you in the right direction. Even with all that guidance you somehow manage to fuck it all up anyways. You stumbled into a World Championship match by absolute luck and did exactly what everyone thought you would. You failed. Just like you’ll fail at Havoc. You just don’t have what it takes to finish, Shadow, and you never will.”
Wade cracks his knuckles and pops his neck, sending a reverberating CRRRRRRRKKKKKKKTH down his spine and deep into the bowels of his krakenous gut.
“I wonder which one of them WCF ‘SUPERSTARS’ are gonna try and step into my ring and attempt to make a name for themselves in Action Wrestling this year. I know the pickins we’re getting pretty slim towards the end there, but there was still a veritable field of pretenders...err, ‘contenders’ on the old roster. Nothing too fancy, but maybe Ol Mikey X is gonna come drop one half of that HAWT AMERICAN on us? Maybe Thievin’ Steven will capture lightning in a bottle and manage to get over somehow? Saw we had James Wolf on the payroll now, just give us Scott Slayer and got the makings of some sweet jobberlyah.
“Fuck me, imagine if my old boy Dune showed up this time? It was weird how well the two of us clicked, all things considered. It’s like you spend so much time beating hard on a motherfucker that you learn the ins and outs of their mind. Something cosmic finally synchronizes and it makes for some polarizing good shit - not unlike Lockhart and I, or Pasternak even. His biggest downfall was his undying loyalty to a dying brand, which absolutely makes me question his mentality. Underneath the mask and the scars was just a scared little kid looking for a place to call home. What a coward. A fool. A weakling. Typical WCF fare, breeding the weakest of men. Not a one of them knows how to really sink their teeth into anything, just a bunch of overrated zealots, no exception. They don’t have the chops to come to my house and fight in my ring, let alone win the most important event of the year. Simply laughable.”
No shit, Wade laughs. He laughs because it is indeed the funniest thaaaaaang he’s heard in a while.
“I would be remiss not to address one of the biggest challenges in this match, yet, another one of these spooky motherfuckers but one with a track record to back it all up. NvL, you absolute unit, I gotta hand it to you man, you really dropped in the deep end of Action Wrestling with a splash. You really came out swinging on these plebs straight up, no regards for their well beings. That’s that shit i do like, if I’m being honest. It would be a mistake if I didn’t mention that you possess that same killer instinct that I do, really and truly, you do. Real recognizes real, no doubt. Your problem is these is troubled waters, my son, and I’m about to show you why the biggest splash attracts the most attention. The nail that sticks up gets hammered down first.
“You can try and deny it all you want, but I find it hilarious that you’ve found yourself at Gravediggers beck and call. It’s unbecoming of a man of the sport like yourself. I never mistook you as someone who could find themselves on the take like that. Yeah, ya don’t do it for money, ya do it for blood or some extremist bullshit...but god damn, man, have some respect for yourself. Are you actually the most dangerous NvL that lives in the annals of legend? Or are you just Gravediggers glorified bodyguard? He’ll defend you to his last breath but I see right through it. I’ve made a career out of exposing ‘monsters’ for the ‘men’ they are. You’re not a demon, you’re a dog who comes when he’s called. You’re good, but I’m simply better. No matter how hard you try, you don’t win over Wade Moor at the Havoc Rumble. I don’t have to ask anyone’s permission to win.”
Wade cracks that GAWDNILLA DAMNED smile up over the side of his cheek, that perfectly trimmed beard sculpted in the light of the receding sun.
“The sun goes down for all the ‘never will, never coulds’ that are walking into this match. Yeah, you know who you are. The ‘Claire Hawkins’, the ‘Sam Kidsgroves’, The ‘Baz’, ‘Titan Jax’, and ‘Chase Jacksons’ of Action Wresting. You know the types. The ones that will proffer big shit about how this is their moment in the sun, to bask in them glorious rays, but they have their heads so far up their own asses it’s a wonder they can catch their breath let alone victory in their hands. I don’t have much time and I have to begin preparations for the Havoc Rumble soon. All I’m going to say is I ain’t taking you lightly, I’m just gonna make what I do to you look easy. Imagine that, the toughest, most difficult match of your career and I already got y’all pegged for losers. It’s ok though, you have to be used to it by now.”
That suns going down over the shoulder, the moon starts to twinkle somewhere in the distance. Wade looks up to it, his eyes turning a glossy black. Something hauntingly familiar about that old moon, no doubt.
“How does it feel Casey? To have finally retired the UCI Championship? Sounds like an honor. I would have loved nothing than to have finally deaded that company once and for all. Another breeding ground of weakness and cowardice. Spencer Adams little ant farm. It’s hard for me to take anything from UCI seriously, including you. Watching you whine about holding a championship belt regularly defended on pay per views made me want to cut my eyes out with a steak knife. Were the bonuses not big enough? Or were you not getting the respect you felt you deserved? Trust me, it wasn’t because of the UCI Championship, it was because of you. Nobody respects a whiney, manipulative shrew and that’s facts.
“I’ve never seen someone complain about being a reigning, defending champion before. Perhaps it’s what made you unique, but for me it just painted a massive target on your back. Torture promised you the ‘BIG ONE’ if you could hold it until Clash of Champions - which you did - and it was only then that you were proud of your achievement. As it came to an end, you finally found footing and solace as the UCI Championship. Just a little too late, in my honest opinion. Moseying through those last defenses has your guard absolutely down and you’re about to find out what it’s like when you have some decent competition in that squared circle. You’re about to step to the undisputed best in Wade Moor and that’s not a place you want to find yourself. Trust me.
“Whose next on the chopping block here? The pickings are getting slimmer and slimmer, but I must trudge forward. The Havoc Rumble belongs to me as it did last year, no matter how hard someone like Dandy DiVito must believe it’s his. I’ve met your type before Dandy, barely literate but your technical prowess and penchant for survival speak for themselves. This kind of match is your bread and butter. All this time you’ve spent trying to get over will surely help you elude detection in the Rumble. Like a thief in the night, you hope to steal the match and go to the Evolution main event. Even though you find yourself pretty high up on the food chain, there’s always someone higher than you. For you - and everyone else in this match - that person is me.
“I know people think I’ve been ‘taking it easy’ lately, and the fact of the matter is - I have. I have been ‘taking it easy’ and still I’ve dropped fools on the pavement left and right. My record and accolades speak for themselves and I’m looking to add that ‘big dick energy 2nd Havoc Rumble win’ to my list. What you got other than TWO X United States Champion and a handful of wins over one of the whackest dudes in the federation? A million dollars? Fuck off with that chump change. I got checks I haven’t even cashed yet sitting in the glove box of the VOLKSWAGGIN, PPV bonuses and the ilk. Money doesn’t mean a god damn thing in this business. It’s what you do to earn it that matters. I’m not afraid of doing what I know I have to do - I’m not afraid of what comes after I win the Havoc Rumble. I know exactly what this win entails and I’m all in prepared for it, my man. I know exactly who I’m staring down the ring at after the smoke clears in Sacramento...”
Wade takes a deep breath, exhales, them eyes going back to that ocean blue hue.
“My main mans Ryan Lockhart. The best in the business to this date...at least, he will be until Evolution when I reclaim my rightful spot as Action Wrestling World Champion. The match is absolute money, no question about it. People are already lining up for them tickets and the shit ain’t even set properly in stone yet, though undeniably it will be. This is his chance to prove that everything he’s claimed about himself is true to the teeth. Can Ryan Lockhart actually fall himself ‘the best’? Or will his one true Achilles heel call out and expose him?
“I know people are wondering why I would want to challenge my own stable mate at Evolution, but the fact that we’re working so closely together now just reasons further that this is the match everyone wants to see. Can Ryan Lockhart beat Wade Moor one on one? Has he truly taken the lessons I’ve taught him to heart, or has it all fallen on deaf ears and an ego beaten chest? You’ll have to wait until the main event of Evolution to find out. Until then, I’ll be seeing all of ya at the Havoc Rumble.
“And I’m about to kill ya all.”
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Wade stops the recording and sends it off to them Action Wrestling officials. He sinks his shoulders up, popping his neck and back, takes another deep breath...then looks up to that moon once more. Why was he so attracted to that silver disc in the sky? It was as if it were calling out to him, wet, wanting. He dropped to his knees and folded his hands together as silent drops of rain fell from the sky.
Was this a premonition? Another calling on the horizon? What did all these signs mean? Wade pondered the notion of miracles before settling on warning. Something wasn’t too far off in the distance, perhaps looking up towards the very same moon his eyes rested on at present time.
The World was finally for sell, but Wade wasn’t looking to buy. He was looking to take, and he would take it by any means necessary. He started to laugh under the bright moon light as the rain turned into an all out storm, thunder boomed as lightning cracked, yet still the bright moon remained unshrouded by cloud. He held his hands up, braying into the sky, calling to finally
C o m e H o m e
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And I’m walking round town again
And I’m looking for a fortune
One that I could buy
T h e W o r l d
with