“Hellhound” Nov 15, 2020 19:45:02 GMT -5 via mobile W A L T E R, James Nightingale, and 4 more like this
Post by “The RevolutiDaddy” Wesley on Nov 15, 2020 19:45:02 GMT -5
All you have is your fire
And the place you need to reach
Don’t you ever tame your demons
But always keep em’ on a leash
And the place you need to reach
Don’t you ever tame your demons
But always keep em’ on a leash
The Beast. The Man Evolved. The Mongrel.
The man of many names...yet, still, just a man. No matter the proffering, the chest beating, the grandstanding, at the end of the day you eat, sleep, piss, and shit just like the rest of us. Your whole life you’ve tried to contend that you’re anything but normal because to be anything but would open the floodgates. You’d have to come to terms with what you are and to do so would render you exactly what you are at the core of your existence.
A fake, and a fucking coward.
You’ve done your best to hold your impending doom. You’ve done horrible, unforgivable things. You’ve beaten man and women alike to forward your agenda. You’ve won tournaments, championships, some of the biggest matches in Action Wrestling history, all according to plan.
But you can’t plan for me, Walter.
I’m the true anomaly, probably the last true worker in the business, and a fucking nightmare for people like you: the ones that think they have it all figured out. To you, I’m nothing more than an ant to be crushed. Just another victim in the grand scheme of things. One more culling in the book of The Man Evolved.
Unfortunately for you, I’m not a five foot, one hundred and twenty pound women.
I’m gonna do the twist on your master plan, then I’m gonna drop you with a “RevolutiHook” and for the first time in your life, you will know true pain.
Not physical pain, Walter, that’s too good for you.
No. I’m gonna tear your walls down and open the floodgate myself. You’ve been living your life in fear, waiting for someone like me to knock on the door. I’m gonna make you question everything about yourself. I’m gonna put your mind, body, and spirit on trial. Then just when you think it’s all over?
You’ll find that I’m just getting started.
The night, for the first time in a month, Wesley himself had a nightmare. It was lucid, though he couldn’t do much in the way to deter these visions. In it, he saw the mother of his children strapped to some visage, bled dry from a gaping wound from one side of her neck to the other. At the base, in the dried blood lay his boys, their eyes ripped from their sockets, and their faces blue. Large bruises from finger marks stretched along the length of their necks.
Wesley tried to hold in his visceral reaction, knowing in his mind that it was only a nightmare, but he couldn’t stop the wail from coming. He didn’t know how long he had been sleeping, but the only thing that woke him was the sound of short, high pitched barking and the tingling of a tongue on his face.
He snapped back to the reality of the world, where a dog lay in front of him on his bed, his head rested on his paws and a hint of concern rested in his copper eyes. The dog whined nervously as Wesley unstuck his sweaty body from his sheets and pulled the dog in for a hug.
“Hey Wendigo”, Wesley reassured, “It’s ok boy. Just a bad dream.”
The dog yipped and then happily lapped it’s tongue along Wesley’s face. He spun around in a couple of circles as Wesley pushed himself off the bed, and then leapt towards the door clearly ready for a walk.
“Alright, alright, just give me a minute”, Wesley said as he started to get dressed.
As Wesley dressed himself, he could feel his body ache from his progress in the Wrestler of the Year tournament. Wendigo quietly observed him putting his coat on over his torso. Wesley found himself wondering what the look on his face was, if the dog could feel the stress on his body, or if just really had to take a piss. He slid into his boots as pondering if animals had a more quintessential tuning to the nature of man took a backseat to the nightmare that had haunted his usually peaceful sleep.
That image was hard to shake from his mind, no matter how hard he fought against it. He made a mental note to call his boys later, but then upon remembering who his opponent was this week, put a asterisk next to that note.
As he opened the door to his room, Wendigo bolted down the hallway towards the outside exit, and another thought crossed his mind. He knew life on the road was challenging for his family, for his ex-wife. He knew it was a majority factor into the falling out of their relationship, but he also wondered if he put a subconscious distance between him and his family due to the naturally violent nature of the business he was in.
He knew men like Walter didn’t shy away from making a man’s family pawns on the chessboard. He would use every play in the book to get a mental edge over his opponents, not excluding putting his children in mental, emotional, or physical duress. The thought caused the blood in Wesley’s veins to boil, but as quickly as the anger came, it receded.
He knew that it was exactly what Walter would want. A rent free space in his opponents head was the most opportune spot to find yourself in a match. All the strength training, hours in the gym, and in the ring paled in comparison to the edge you could get by psychologically topping your opponent. Wesley wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Wesley wasn’t going to give him an inch, because with it he could take a mile.
Wesley opened the door and Wendigo trotted outside into the cold morning air. The sun had barely begun to rise on The Following Compound, but the complex silently hummed with activity from the recruits. After Wesley’s tryst into the woods weeks prior, they had started to collected firewood from the forests edge. The recruits, all of varying age, gender, and nationality worked in harmonious accord alongside each other to the end away.
He knew in his heart that this was true evolution.
Wesley spotted young Dorian leading the charge, giving order to the other recruits, some who worked alongside him in the ring, and others who didn’t. Though he was short in tooth, they looked to him with a great deal of admiration and respect. His presence almost commanded it. A natural born leader, one of Wesley’s top students. Wesley threw his hand up and Dorian waved back, silent pleasantries to begin the day.
The nightmare was almost subverted out of Wesley’s mind, but as Wendigo ran the edges length of the Compound, it wormed its way back in. Wesley silently kicked himself for letting it in again, but such was the nature of nightmares. They stuck with you for a long time, especially when they involved people you loved and cared for.
This time, instead of pushing the vision from his minds eye, he let it serve as a reminder. It was a reminder of the lengths Walter would go to secure victory and push his agenda forward. His culling. He knew the man would stop at nothing of his own accord to have his future realized, but Wesley was going to make damn sure that Walter would have no say in what happened to him at Clash. Free will be fucked, Wesley was going to kick the living shit out of that bowl cut mongoloid and show him that he wasn’t as all knowing as he believed he was.
Wesley finally caught up with Wendigo who was now stopped at a fenced off portion of The Compound. His ears were raised, piqued with interest at something standing off behind the yet unexplored tree line. He could hear the hum of a growl building in the dogs throat as it’s eyes bore holes into the woods. Wesley knelt down next to him and put his hand on Wendigo’s haunches.
“What’s the matter, boy?” Wesley asked, “What’s out there?”
As Wesley asked the question, the dogs growling veered off. A twig snapped in the distance as something made its way through the woods.
“Was that breakfast?” Wesley questioned the mutt with a smile.
Wendigo’s eyes snapped towards Wesley as he spun around in more excited circles, licking Wesley’s hand in anticipation of food.
“Yeah, I’m hungry too boy”, Wesley said in a reassuring voice, “Let’s go get something to eat.”
Wendigo ran back towards the complex and Wesley turned to follow him...but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He couldn’t shake the feeling of something - or someone - off in the woodland distance.
You know, for someone who believes himself to be at the absolute top of the Action Wrestling food chain, you’re actually kind of a bitch Walter. You like to think of yourself at the top of the scrap heap, above the petty squabbles of the common AW riff-raff...but you’re no better than the men you think you’re above.
Just ask James Nightingale and The Lost Breed.
Just ask Phillidor Holdings, LLC.
Just ask Roger Payton, Jr.
Bit of a sore spot? Good. Fuck you, you total goon.
After the XIII main event, The Following made their presence known. We didn’t need an underhanded attack against weakened competitors. We simply needed a presentation. A little pomp and circumstance, if you would. Something simple, something effective.
We are everywhere, and we are one. 🖐🏽
...but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that bit of bravado didn’t serve a second purpose. When we were standing in those four corners, I wanted to look deep into your eyes. I wanted to feel what The Monster felt after a big victory over his blood rivals.
What I discovered didn’t surprise me in the slightest, Walter.
Your eyes were empty. Your soul was cold. I could tell, just by looking into your eyes, that in that moment you felt absolutely nothing.
I mean, what the fuck man?
I don’t need a deep dive into your history here to tell that you don’t feel a god damn thing out there in that ring. You have a penchant for violence, the size and strength of a god damn mac truck at your disposal, but you have no heart for this business. What you’ve done and accomplished so far against those weaker of soul? Yeah, you’ve earned it.
But that’s all you’ll ever get, Walter.
Fleeting victories against men who don’t truly have this battlefield in their hearts. I’d ask you how that makes you feel, but I have the feeling the answer would be a stone cold “nothing” with a bit of malaise on top.
When someone like Corey Black finally got his opportunity, the one he’d been clamoring months for, against “The Mongrel”...you were exposed. You were caught out for the world to see, and what they got a glimpse of that night didn’t sit well with them. It didn’t fucking sit well with me either, my man, and that’s the honest truth.
It made me realize something about you, Walter. You have all the tools to be one of the all time greats in Action Wrestling - not as if the distinction means jack shit to you - but all the same. Yeah, you got the tools man, but they’re only as useful as the man executing them.
And you? You’re fucking lazy, Walter. You don’t eat, sleep, sweat, or bleed this business. You’re only here because it gives your mindless violence a fleeting purpose. A place for the monster to be unleashed, if only for fifteen minutes at a time. It’s enough to satiate your bloodlust, for a while, until you feel them inexplicable urges rising to the surface again and it’s time for the monster to be unleashed once more.
How does it feel to be a slave? Not just to Etta, not just to your leash...but to your own urges. It’s kind of hilarious, if you think about it. If you’re capable of free thinking, Walter, if not everything is just a carefully planned maneuver towards your next culling.
You’re not a demon, Walter, you’re a fucking dog. You only come when you’re called.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little scared to get into the ring with you. I’m not afraid your talent will outclass mine, as you have little. I’m not afraid of your size and strength advantage as I’m not one of these undersized twerps you’re used to kicking around. I’m not afraid of any move you’ll use to dole out your usual brand of punishment against me as I’ve taken way worse from better men than you.
I’m not afraid of any of that, Walter.
What I am afraid of is what happens when I beat your ass silly across that ring and pin your shoulders to the mat for the three count. What happens after the bell rings and the burgeoning ego of The Man Evolved takes hold. What lengths will you go to enact that measure of revenge against me? I know after the match is over, the world turns yet, and I know you have no limitations outside of the ring.
Will you go after my family? My children? Their mother? My brothers, Dandy and Kyle? My mother, or my father? How far will your injured pride take you? I know you have ways to hurt a man outside the physical realm.
Just know that after I drop your head ceremoniously into that mat, pin you for that one two three, and advance to the finals of the Wrestler of the Year tournament...I’ll be sleeping with one eye open. There won’t be an inch of this earth you can step foot on without me knowing it.
Motherfucker, The Following sees all things.
And if you decide to take this outside of the arena? I’ll be there waiting for you, Walter.
If you come for anyone I care about, I won’t stop at a pinfall the next time. I won’t stop until you’re six feet under, and that ain’t a threat....that’s a fucking promise.
You’ve been warned, dog.
You don’t want to see how far you can push a man, because there won’t be any coming back from that.
Kyle’s office was well lit, a subconscious counterbalance to the pictures he was looking at. He sat behind his desk perusing a file that had came in to his possession sometime in the afternoon. His eyes were wide, unspoken horror wrought in his chiseled face. He set it down and rubbed his eyes, trying to push the images from his mind, but it was no use. They were now burned into his corneas, imprinted into his mind where they would remain until the end of days. The only thing that broke him from his stupor was a knock at the door and it’s eventual opening.
Wesley walked in, followed closely by his new hound of hell, that crossbred mutt that had quickly become a Following mascot. It walked towards Kyle, howling happily as it lay its head in his lap. Kyle brushed its head and scratched him under his jowls. Wendigo barked and ran back towards Wesley, never straying too far from his new friend. Kyle smiled at the pair of them.
“You wanted to talk to me about something?” Wesley asked, “Chase said it was important.”
The images flashed across Kyle’s mind once more and he shook them away to look Wesley in the eye.
“Yeah, sorry”, Kyle replied, “Yeah, can you shut the door please?”
“What’s going on Kyle?” Wesley questioned further as he closed the door tight behind him.
Wendigo laid at Wesley’s feet as he sat across from Kyle at his desk.
“It’s about your opponent this week”, Kyle responded.
“You don’t need to worry about me”, Wesley answered, “I can handle myself against Walter.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about”, Kyle continued, “It’s the immediate threat he would pose to what we’ve built here. We don’t fall in line step with his vision. I fear crossing the monster in this instance can only lead to trouble...”
“What are you saying?” Wesley asked, “You want me to lay down and die for him?”
“No”, Kyle responded, “Absolutely not. If Walter wants to make something out of this after Monday, then you’ll have the full support of The Following at your back, as you always have.”
“Then what should I do?” Wesley replied, “Beating Walter only ends one way. We have to have a contingency plan for not IF, but WHEN things go sideways.”
“I’m glad you feel that way”, Kyle answered, “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I have something to show you first.”
Kyle’s hands fell on the file on his desk. He hesitated, but eventually slid it across the desk towards Wesley. Wesley moved to grab it, but Kyle held his hand over the file.
“What’s inside...” he started, taking a deep breath before continuing, “...it isn’t meant to incite fear, just caution. We need to tread carefully here. Sources have told me that Walter is responsible for everything inside that folder, even if he was never found guilty according the United States Judicial System.”
Kyle let loose his grip on the file. Wesley picked it up off the desk and flipped it open. The first picture that greeted him was that of a beautiful blonde woman. Late twenties, possibly early thirties. In the picture she smiled, unbeknownst to her a happiness that wouldn’t last as Wesley flipped to the next picture. A puddle of gore greeted his eye sockets. It was the same women from the picture before, hardly recognizable save for the blonde hair and what remained of her face.
Wesley fought the urge to vomit on the floor as his stomach did flips around his abdominal cavity. He quickly shut the file and snapped it back down on Kyle’s desk.
“I’m sorry, Wesley”, Kyle responded.
“I knew Walter was...different”, Wesley answered, “But you’re telling me...you’re saying he did that?”
“That’s what they tell me”, Kyle said, “I can’t confirm or deny, but I trust my source. I had to let you know how dangerous I believe he is, otherwise you’re just walking into this blind. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“I’ll make him pay”, Wesley affirmed.
“I know you will”, Kyle responded, “About what I wanted to ask you. I think we should move your family here, your ex wife included. Just out of an abundance of caution. They’ll need protection until we can assess...”
“Done”, Wesley said, matter of fact, “I’ll go talk to her and let her know the situation. I think she’ll understand.”
“I’m glad to hear it”, Kyle responded as he grabbed the file and put it into a drawer under lock and key.
Wesley got up to move towards the door, Wendigo at his heels. He stopped as he came to the threshold and stopped in his tracks.
“But if I can help it?” Wesley continued, “I’m going to make sure Walter can barely even remember who he is after this week. I’ll make sure he can’t walk away from that ring to cause more damage than he already has. If I can help it.”
Wesley opened the door and walked out into the compound, with Kyle left silently contemplating his companions words.