Skrrrrrrt


Demos slams on brakes as the van comes to a sudden stop in the parking lot of an abandoned motel. A big black body bag slides forward until it smashes into the back of the driver’s seat. Demos looks back at the body bag with fury in his eyes. Demos starts smacking the shit out of the body bag.

"Stop it! Stop it! Calm down!"

The engorged body bag is silent as Demos pounds away at it. Demos rips the keys out of the ignition before turning to his door and slinging it open. He stepped out of the white van with minimal windows and speed walked to the back hatch. Demos grabbed the door handle and threw the back doors wide open. Demos reached into the back of the van and grabbed the bottom of the body bag. He heaved and hoed as he dragged the body bag out of the gutted minivan.

The engorged bag slid against the ground as Demos really put his back into it. The bag was dragged over rocks, shattered glass, and a slew of other dangerous objects in the parking lot of this abandoned motel. Demos grunted as he struggled to pull the bag to the closest room. Demos pulled the body bag up onto the sidewalk before letting go of it. Demos turned around and kicked in the unlocked door, sending it slamming into the sidewall. Demos shrugged as he turned back around and dragged the body bag into the dusty motel room.

Demos flicked a light switch. Nothing. No matter, Demos continued to drag the body bag into the room before walking over to the door and shutting it. As the door was closing Demos saw a large indentation inside the drywall. He shrugged again as the door latched shut.

“You have done so well, Demos.”

Demos looked over to the space near the bathroom. He gave a friendly nod and a wave to Ramesses before reaching down and unzipping the body bag.

“I knew it.”

Ramesses spoke with absolute confidence as Demos unzipped the black bag to reveal the unconscious body of Big Puddin. The similarity was stunning. Both Ramesses and Herschel were absolute mammoths of men with ebony skin. Both men had noses the length of a roll of quarters. Both men’s heads were mostly shaven with a tuft of a hair running down the center of their skulls. Demos placed his hands upon Big Puddin’s bottom lip as he pulled down. Even the yellow tint of the plaque on Puddin’s teeth bore an incredible resemblance to Ramesses.

Ramesses chuckled as he nodded his head from side to side. A slight smile spread across the apparition’s face.

“I always knew you’d pull through, Demos.”

Demos looked back up to his ghastly advisor with a shit eating grin.

“No you didn’t, but that’s okay, I let my praxis speak for itself. Now, can you help me lift this big fella up on the bed?”

Demos gestured to the soiled mattress atop a rotting wooden frame placed against the moldy wall with peeling yellow wallpaper.

“Unfortunately, Demos, you’re on your own in that regard. I can only interact with the most powerful of matter. While Oswald could not trap my energy inside his soulshard forever, he has certainly proven capable of preventing my agency.”

Demos rolled his eyes as he reached into the sweaty bag containing Big Puddin.

“Yeah, right.”

Demos chortled as he wrapped his arms around Herschel Kiss’s upperbody. Demos huffed and grunted as he struggled to lift the big man’s bodyweight. Demos got into a squatting position as he tried to adjust Big Puddin’s body so that it could be carried. No dice.

“Put your back into it, Demos!”

Ramesses cheerfully called out commands as Demos lifted Big Puddin once more. This time Demos was able to pull husky Herschel onto the dirty mattress. Demos took a small break as he held Big Puddin’ halfway onto the bed. After a few second of rest Demos pushed the rest of Big Puddin onto the bed.

“He looks just like he’s laying down for a nap after second breakfast…..my Henrietta always loved how I looked during my naps.”

Demos raised an eyebrow as he stepped away from the unconscious body of the forsaken BWO member.

“Henrietta?”

Ramesses looked sheepishly towards the wall as Demos smiled warmly at the man. Demos took a few steps towards Ramesses as he refined his inquiry.

“I’ve never heard you talk of a Henrietta before. Was she someone important to you?”

Ramesses turned his head so as to make eye contact with his would be savior.

“She was my everything. My golden flower, my delicate rose. She was as sweet as they come.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was. She was incredible. The best thing that ever happened to me. I...I just miss her so much.”

“What happened?”

Ramesses hung his head in shame as he spoke with a soft tremble.

“I…...I grew careless. I knew Oswald was searching for me, ever since I made that deal with him I knew he'd be coming back for me. But I just couldn’t be without her touch for another day. I met her at our usual spot…..but HE was there. The soul snatcher himself. I only caught the briefest glance of her beautiful face before he cut us down…..”

“I’m….so sorry.”

“When that scythe pierced our hearts, we were transported to another realm. Our bodies fell lifelessly against the cold ground, but our energy carried on inside his soulshard. We shared a shard, her and I. Even though we could never be together I could feel her there, with me, forever. Existence inside the shard was anguish….but at least I had her presence. It made everything feel….better.”

“True love is a powerful force, it can bridge even the deepest divides.”

Ramesses nodded as tears began to swell in his eyes. The apparition went to wipe the tear away, but as Ramesses nudged his eye the tear fell straight through his body only to land on the ash covered carpet below.

“It is. I thought I would be with her again when I broke through the soul barrier and found my back to the corporeal world. I can feel her presence on this plane, I have felt it all this time. I know she was able to escape just as I was. I just don’t know where she is….oh how I wish I could hold her one more time…”

“Tell me more about her…”

“She was as gorgeous as they come. Her curly brown hair never had a bad day. I loved to spend hours at a time buried beneath her massive thighs. She truly brought meaning to the word shorty. They used to call us Big and Tiny, funny, right? Our friends always got a kick out of it. They always said I dwarved her.”

Ramesses laughed softly as he remembered his favorite moments with Henrietta.

“I can help you find her again!”

The smile on the big ghost’s face slowly turned upside down as the apparition’s eyes fell back to the dirty carpet.

“If only it were so simple, Demos. I am a visitor to this plane just as she is. Our souls are still trapped inside of Oswald’s gem. We can only see the matter before us: the energy of another specter would be imperceivable. If we are to be reunited, it will have to be in the flesh.”

Demos nodded as his understanding of matter and energy expanded to absorb this new information.

“In the flesh….how?”

“If you can crack the shard holding our souls, our energy will be returned to our bodies. The only problem is…..my body is taken!”

Ramesses looks down at Big Puddin with deadly disdain. His narrow eyes size up the big man as a snarl spreads across his lips.

“We have your body! We can switch your souls out, no problem, right? Then we can do the same for Henrietta! I swore an oath to return you to your body, Ramesses, but I will swore another oath today. The Demos will reunite you with Henrietta!”

Ramesses’s jaw dropped as he stared at Demos.

“You...would do that?”

“It’s the least I could do for you, friend! You have given the Demos everything. Without you I would still be nothing but potential energy, laying in wait for a movement that may never come. But it was you, Ramesses, that freed my body after Snow Job so that the Demos could grow to form. It was you, Ramesses, that recognized the potential laying dormant inside this vessel! Reuniting you with your true love is the least I could do to pay down my debt to you.”

Ramesses smiled softly at Demos’s heartfelt words.

“It was an easy observation to make, Demos. Your vessel was as powerful as they come. Well over six feet tall with exceptional strength and deceptive speed. Charlie Nickles was drinking his body to waste, and yet still he racked up a winning streak the likes of which are rarely seen. Seven, eight, nine, ten in a row? I forget the specifics, but it was quite the run. He was a bumbling drunk inside that ring most nights, but still he was able to carry Jim Jimson to tag team victories over the likes of Miss Fury, Hanari Carnes, Atara Themis, Betsy Granger, the list goes on and on! It was easy to see the true potential inside of him just begging to be brought to fruition. The moment was ripe.”

“Still, it was you and you alone that flushed the evil out of Charlie’s soul so that my soul could be born again!”

“It wasn’t easy. He put up quite the struggle. He really seemed attached to his soul. You’ve had no problems with him?”

Demos bit his bottom lip as he glanced quickly at the sidewall. Within half a second the masked man brought his gaze back to Ramesses.

“Haven’t had any issues with him, no. Haven’t seen or heard from him, seems like you flushed him out really good.”

“That’s a relief to hear, Demos. I did my best, and while my best soulcrafting is quite exceptional, Charlie’s maliciousness was so overwhelming it seemed for a moment I may never be able to fully uproot it from the soil of his vessel. If even a trace of him was left it could prove a grave danger to your own well being. No matter how innocuous or innocent it may seem, and sliver of Charlie’s previous self could set off a chain of events that could bring the old Nickles back to this realm.”

“Well we won’t have any problems with that! Haven’t seen anything like that.”

“Good, good. That’s great to hear! I knew you’d be a strong soul, Demos. Your will and resolve are unflinching.”

“Turns out that’s a necessary trait to have in this line of work.”

“Indeed!”

Both men gazed over to Big Puddin as a soft moan escaped from the prone man’s lips.

“He seems to be stirring. Go on.”

Ramesses gestured towards Big Puddin. Demos nodded before turning around and walking to the body bag laying on the ground. Demos reached into that bag and pulled out a small collection of objects. Demos tucked the objects against his chest before turning around and dropping the objects onto the bed in the space between Herschel’s legs, which looked strikingly similar to twix bars atop the cum and blood stained mattress. Two photographs, a wooden stake, and a somewhat moist washcloth fell from the masked man’s grasp.

“Where….am...I?”

The BWO member sounded identical to Ramesses, albeit with a groggy stammer. Demos grabbed the wooden stake and started smacking Big Puddin in the face with it repeatedly. Big Puddin cried out as his hands instinctively came up to protect his face.

“Stop resisting!”

Demos continued to slap the big man in the face with the wooden stake, every so often ‘accidentally’ cutting into bits of the man’s flesh with the tip of the weapon. A few small tributaries of blood begin to drip down the captive man’s ebony face.

“M-m-muthufuckah!”

Demos pulled the stake away only to follow up with a headbutt a moment later. The headbutt seemed to knock the resistance right out of Herschel, as the man’s hands fell down the sides of the bed as he groaned.

“You’re going to answer a few questions for me and my friend, alright, Chief?”

Big Puddin struggled to lift his head, but he turned his neck and gandered at as much of the room as he could see.

“Friend?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Puddin!”

Demos’s left fist flew up to meet Puddin’s face. The man’s hand slammed straight into Puddin’s nose. A cracking of cartilage is heard as blood begins to squirt out the bottom of the man’s nose.

“Awwwh fuck!”

Demos grabbed Puddin by the collar of his sheet and shook him fiercely.

“Answer my damn questions!”

“Ok! I’ll talk!”

“Good.”

Demos lets go of the man’s t shirt as he reaches down to the space between his legs. Demos drops the stake and picks up the two photographs. He showed them one after the other to the man laying on the bed.

“Now tell me...how did you go from looking like THIS




To THIS!




Big Puddin begins to drip with sweat as his eyes bounce around inside their sockets.

“I...I uh...I don’t know!”

“Don’t fuck with me, Puddin!”

Demos hammer fists Herschel right in the ballsack. Kiss yelps in pain as his previously limp arms reach down and cusp his hands around his injured beans and mash.
“Give me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!”

“BOB approached me and said they’d make me a big star if I joined them! They gave me a new body so I could become the greatest champion ever! Oswald said he harnessed the powers of the Seven Deities of the Broken universe to transform me into the strongest wrestler in the world!”

Demos glared at Big Puddin with pure hatred.

“And how’s that working out for you?!”

Demos smacked Puddin’ in the face with the photographs. Demos threw the photographs over his shoulder after smacking Puddin’ in the face with them a few more times.

“Where does Oswald hide his soulstones?! They’re in Chris Page’s belt, aren’t they?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oswald is hiding his soulstones inside of the universal championship belt!”

“What are those?!”

Demos dropped a nasty 6-12 elbow on the man with the already broken nose. Puddin cried out in pain as Demos did it again. The man’s nose looked even more busted now. Blood ran down the man’s face and neck as he hollered unintelligibly.

“Be careful with my body, Demos!”

“I got carried away….”

“I’m sure you did.”

Demos looks back at Ramesses before performing a modest shrug. Demos turns his neck to look back at the man with the bleeding nose. Herschel moves his hands up from his nutsack to his broken face in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Tell me what I want!”

“Stop hurting me!”

“Then give me answers! This will only hurt as much as you make it! The stones that Oswald used to trap Ramesses and Henrietta’s souls….he put them inside of Chris Page’s universal belt to keep them safe, did he not?!”

“What the fuck is going on! You’re crazy! Oswald hates Page, he’d never trust him with anything valuable! All Oswald does when we’re alone together at BWO headquarters is mutter about how he’s going to crucify Chris Page and force Miss Fury to heel! He hates those two!”

“LIAR!”

Demos points an accusatory finger at the man, going as far as to make gentle contact with the man’s cheek. Big Puddin’s skin is wet to the touch.

“Tell me the truth!”

“That is the truth! Page and Oswald hate each other!”

“YOU’RE ALL BOB!”

Demos pushes his finger deep into Puddin’s cheek.

“That doesn’t mean anything! There’s almost a hundred people in BOB, most of us don’t even know each other, let alone like each other! I just do whatever Miss Fury tells me so I don’t wind up in the garbage disposal next to the BOB jobbers Liam Roberts and Mini Morbid!”

“BOB has a lot more jobbers than just those two!”

“But those are the only two they shoved down the garbage disposal!”

Demos withdrew his sticky finger from the man’s cheek. As Demos brought his hand down to his waist a few small drops of blood fell from his pointer finger to the floor.

“Chris Page says he worked for years to build BOB up as the best wrestling faction in the world…”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man!”

“Tell me what I want to hear!”

“Okay!”

“What is Oswald’s pin number?”

“His pin number is eight se-se-se-se-v……”

Big Puddin reached for his heart as it felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. The man broke into a drenching sweat as he began to hyperventilate. His body started shaking and slowly convulsing.

“I-insulin…..I need insulin! H-h-help….I’m a...diabetic…”

“YOU FAT FUCK! YOU GAVE ME DIABETES!”

Demos looked at Ramesses before looking back at Puddin’, who kept his gaze and attention solely focused on Demos.

“I need….insulin…..”

“We’ll see.”

Demos patted Puddin on the chest before walking away from the bed and back towards Ramesses.

“I can’t believe that lard ass piece of shit gave me diabetes!”

“Can you not? Everyone in BOB seems out of shape. Bourbon, Page, Puddin, Preesh- they must have an incredible buffet at their headquarters.”

“This is not the time for foolishness, Demos!”

Demos reached out to Ramesses with his palms facing the floor. Puddin seemed to pass out on top of the rickety bed.

“Calm down, Ramesses. We don’t need him alive, right? We just need his body to be free for your soul to make it’s return.”

“Calm down? He gave me the sickness! Make Chris Page pay for this disgraceful slight!”

“I will make him pay a thousand times over when the sun rises for a sixth time. By the time the seventh moon rolls through the sky Chris Page will know the exact consequences for his faction’s brutal discretions!”

“I knew I could rely on you to redeem my soul, Demos. Recover that precious belt. Those gems are the keys to my rebirth.”

Demos looked over at the unconscious body of Herschel before looking back at the apparition.

“Are you sure? Puddin said that Oswald hated Page, and would never entrust him with such a precious treasure.”

“Bah! He is a treacherous urchin! I do not believe a word he says! He is nothing but a lowly squire in their court, he knows nothing of their inner workings! Whatever hatred he may think he sees is most likely nothing but a well crafted plot meant to pull the wool over our eyes while BOB runs their hands through our pockets! They are a foul order that will pull no punches when it comes to manipulating public opinion. Oswald must have placed his soulstone inside the leaf on Chris Page’s belt. That is why the gold shines so brightly. He thought Chris Page could keep it safe for him, keep it out of the hands of BOB’s enemies. But now my Demos is at their doorstep!”

Demos nodded his head as a sly grin began to form with his lips.

“At the doorstep, indeed, and I smell nothing but reefer smoke. That lazy stoner won’t even be able to get off of his couch by the time the Demos breaks down the door. Drugs have done a real number to his body over these last few months. I suppose Oswald’s money buys the kind of drugs that Chris Page used to only dream of. It’s a shame that Page can’t take a sober peak at his life and see his own failings.

When his reign started, I must admit, he was quite the beast of a champion. He had a rough edge to him, and although I was always willing to be the man to bring the sandpaper to his flesh there is now no need for such a topical treatment. Chris Page has mellowed out and grown comfortable with that belt around his waist. His beast hasn’t been seen in some time. I suppose you could say he’s caged it, but in truth, the beast has put itself to sleep with constant intoxication. A booze snooze, if you will.

What a time to be booked against Chris Page. Fortune truly does smile upon the righteous. A sleepwalking champion is bound to trip over the smallest of obstructions. Two hundred and seventy five pounds of obstruction will be far too much for the drunkenly dreaming to handle.

Drugs are a plague upon man. Even the mightiest of men can fall under their persuasions. Drugs are yet another tool in the ruling class's arsenal to keep the workers entranced and content. The ruling class wants us all doped up, for we are far easier to control that way. Man loses his strength every time he dilutes his body's natural potency. The CIA didn't introduce crack cocaine into the ghetto for no reason, after all. They did it because addicts willfully turn themselves into mindless sheep that pose no threat to anyone but themselves and their loved ones. Addicts will gleefully throw it all away just for another hit. I’ll give Chris Page all the hits he could ever ask for, but yet still I promise to you he will go back to the locker room and beg for more. Smoke, smoke, smoke, all Chris Page is looking for is smoke. He’s found nothing but the smoke with Demos. Will his lungs be prepared? I can’t fathom it.

He weakens his own body with every passing day. Hard drinking, casual sex, partying, illicit drug use, it all catches up to you one day. Your body begins to slow down. Your liver starts to break down. Your lungs start to work harder to pull less and less air. Your bones break easier, your will cracks sooner.

But Chris Page isn’t concerned with any of this. He is as all addicts are: only concerned with the next high.

I would pity a man like Chris Page if it weren’t for his nefarious companions. Chris is clearly a man lost at sea, just a man jumping from one lifeboat to the next all in hopes of chasing a dragon that only ever existed in his mind. But he has, wittingly or unwittingly, found himself at the center of a diabolic plot to enslave all of mankind to the most vile and bland of oppressions. As such, I can not help but treat him as a class enemy in need of liquidation.”

Ramesses nodded as he grunted in agreement. The apparition went to speak, but suddenly the sound of trumpets began blaring outside of the motel room. The two friends smiled at each other as the trumpets continued to play a familiar tune.

“It seems the King is finally ready to meet you, Demos. It is best not to keep him waiting.”

“Of course. I trust you can keep watch over Puddin.”

Demos looked over at the unconscious man.

“I don’t imagine he will be going anywhere, but still, better safe than sorry.”

Ramesses nodded at Demos.

“Yes, yes. Now you must go! If you take too long the King may just make you wait another week for his audience!”

Demos smiled at Ramesses before walking towards the closet door. Demos opened the door of the closet before stepping into it and shutting the door behind himself. Demos took a deep breath before he closed his eyes. Demos counted backwards from ten while keeping his eyes tightly shut. Demos felt a gust of cold wind blow past him as he counted past four. As he got down to one he opened his eyes.

A pulsating blue portal appeared where there once was a wall. Black tendrils squirmed inside of the portal as a slight buzzing noise echoed through the small room. Demos took a step into the portal before quickly disappearing. As soon as the portal appeared it disappeared, the ominous buzz vanishing alongside it.

Outside of the closet Ramesses looked at Big Puddin’ with remorse. Ramesses walked up to the bed and placed his hand on Puddin’s forearm.

SNAP


The legs of the bed snapped in half as Ramesses touched his former body. The bedrame fell loudly to the floor. Ramesses took a few shocked steps back. He shook his head from side to side as he chuckled softly. His body was just as he remembered it, minus the diabetes.

BUUUZZZZZZZZZ

Ramesses looked behind him as an ominous buzzing began to echo through the room. A red portal appeared where there once was a front door. Black tendrils lashed wildly back and forth inside of the pulsating red matter.

“Does he need me so soon? Surely Demos could have just walked into the King’s court…”

The pulsating collection of red matter grew larger and larger as Ramesses looked on in amazement. Within a few seconds the portal went from covering the motel room door to covering the entire wall. The black tendrils inside of the vibrating red matter began to twist and turn faster and faster. The ominous buzzing grew louder by the second.

“Demos must really need me. Perhaps the King demands my presence?”

Ramesses beamed with pride as he adjusted his collar. He passed through the bed in front of him like a ghost as he walked into the pulsating red matter covering the entire front wall.