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Prince Adeyemi · (09-08-2023)

Continued from Bedtime Stories 1: Wendys Gotta Grow Up

The flailing, snarling, animated Corey plays out loud on a laptop screen, gesturing at Isaiah’s previous promo snippets, glaring into the camera arrogantly challenging the man’s every word.

One child’s angelic laugh breaks up the whining of another.

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[Image: giphy.gif?cid=82a1493b5ezfocg01ew6c59zm4...y.gif&ct=g]

“He making fun of you Izzeh?”

“Yeah, I guess he is Mandy, seems real angry doesn’t he?”

“Heh, he’s like a big bad guy!”

“In a tiny lil dirty-blonde body.”

Isaiah slides his laptop screen shut, setting it on the floor by his feet before picking up the young girl and placing her on his knee. He’s still at the same hospital but time has clearly passed. His face is more beat up - healing cuts along his chin and eyebrow tell of a recent brawl. His eyes are swollen, having shed one too many tears.

“It’s getting late, and it’s about time you kids went to sleep, what kind of story do you want to hear today?”

The camera pans out to reveal more children coming to sit at Isaiah’s feet, on a carpet made up of different scenes from different bedtime stories. The kids clamour for their favourite stories: The Jungle Book, Lion King, Rapunzel…

“A scary story! Tell us, tell us about HOOK!”

With a smirk across his lips, like he hadn’t just spent the evening seeding Peter Pan into the little girl’s head, children were awfully simple sometimes.

Isaiah crouches low. Somebody off-camera dims the lights, and a sinister smile creeps onto our protagonist’s face.

“Well, big bad Hook, the greatest pirate to ever have lived… He had an enemy…”

“Villainry.

There seems to be a recurring trend with the good guys at this show.

Where good guys really are just horrific bad guys.

Sarcasm, put-downs, vitriol - humiliation.

Those are the games you’re trying to play with me, aren’t they?

Is that what your fantasy world defines as… Good? Ethical? Wholesome?

Does it make lil ol’ Corey feel better about himself?

Does it make lil ol’ Corey feel like he’s in control?

Titles are a sign of your place at the top of this business,

But sometimes titles get into the hands of people who really… Really don’t deserve it.

Usually, they’re the bad guys y’know? The villains who weasel their way into the top.

And when that’s done well - when the Villain is clearly… Villainous - the fans even love it.

They grow to love the innovative ways of sneakery and evil.

They start to cheer the bad guy - something your dear friend Madi and recently Flynn have great experience with.

They lie, cheat, steal - manipulate.

And do it all without once PRETENDING their anything other than that. Nobody in their right mind every trusted those maniacs - well, except for the good guys.

Except for people like Ned Kaye, actually… Decent people.

And don’t get me wrong, decent people disgust me too - people who’ll seemingly give up on their and their people’s dreams just to do the selfishly self-defined “good thing” make me wanna throw up.

But you know who are worse? People like you.

People with hearts as black as tar who try everything in their power to be worshipped as benevolent gods.

Coreytopia is quintessential this.
You surround yourself with innocents - then rub shoulders with dangerous motherfuckers and put everyone at risk.

You build yourself an empire, and then use it as a platform to draw in adulation for yourself. How’re you going to tell me and the world that you don’t live in a little fantasy land?

How’re you going to tell me you’re not Peter Pan who wants the kids to worship him and doesn’t want to grow up to face his real problems?

You are your realest problem Corey. Your inability to see that you’re just like your lil once-friend Dolly. Your inability to see that you only come back when the ground is ripe and ready for your to exploit - when Alias is so past his prime… EVEN THEN you had to fight him on homeground, on a show your friend ran. A fight that OPENED the night because it was a money-draw, a little bit of fan-service.

It’s how businesses get the masses through the door, how old jaded fans get their fat little hearts pumping again.

You’re a cheap thrill - but you refuse to see it. I mean look at who you’ve got lined up for yourself to face in your time back?

You come back trying to play the role of the guy at the top when all you beat to get there was a dead Kido and your best friend.

You can PRETEND like Raion wasn’t on fire - DOMINATING at the top when he faced me. You can pretend like you got that same Raion when he faced you right after.

You can pretend but we both know, the WHOLE XWF KNOWS… That’s just fantasy.

How’re you going to tell me you’re not Wendy who wants to take care of the misguided children and feel useful?

You string your eternally-young boyfriend along - keeping him just at arms length. I love you, but not enough to live with you forever.

I love you, but I’m going to stick my tongue down another boys throat - yknow, I got him killed and all.

I love you, but not really.

You take a boy that died, indebt him to you by bringing him back, and then play with his little heart long enough to make him feel guilty for splitting up you and Pan.

That’s as sick as it gets. A life-debt, that’s what you’ve turned your little boy into. How is he supposed to ever think straight and see you for the monster you truly are?

And do we even need to talk about your little commune and how that’s the epitome of indebting a bunch of underprivileged folk to yourself? How’re they supposed to see you for who you truly are?

YOU NAMED IT AFTER YOURSELF YOU SICK…

Sorry, I get carried away, I try and take care of my diet enough to never feel truly nauseous but when I stand across the ring from punks like you… I churn like I’ve just had twenty birrias from the side of the road.

Hurltopia.

I’ll tell you how they’re supposed to see it.

They’ll see it when I completely wipe the ring with you - when I bring you so low to the ground that you’ll have NOTHING else to distract yourself from staring yourself in the mirror.

And that’s exactly what I’ll do, I mean you’re amusing for thinking I’d NOT want to be locked in a cage with you. That means I get to play with you for as long as I want - without anyone else getting in the way. I get to truly obliterate you, and leave bits of you in the ring for the cleanup crew.

What you don’t get is that there isn’t single good character in your fairytale. Not Peter, not Wendy, not Tinkerbell… Not Captain Hook.

Well maybe other than the flesh-eating, nature-loving Tick-Tock Crocodile…

You see Corey - I’m going to rip that mask of yours off your face with the steel of the cage and show the world that under all that pomp, all that virtue signalling, all that pretty-boy aesthetics… There’s just a decaying, insecure little villain.

I’ll put your head through the guillotine -

And when that blade drops, Corey, you and the whole world will have to face reality.”

Back to Doc’s room, with Elijah Hussein

The two were still in an embrace, the furious tears of the younger boy soaking into the grey gym sweater of the older wrestler. The sobs slowly softened, and their grips on each other started to relax. Isaiah let Elijah pull his body away and look up at him.

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“He got those scars-”

”Does this have anything to do with fixing this?”

Isaiah glanced back at the resting old man… Well resting didn’t seem like the right word - he was tubed up and unconscious, at his age, Doc was fighting for his life.

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[Image: When-His-Shoulders-Were-Your-Only-Reason-Living.gif]

“Well… I’m not sure how can FIX this and I’d say WE aren’t doing anything….”

Elijah went to interrupt the “older” man but Isaiah’s steely gaze shuts him up.

“- But you found him, and you’ve proven you’ve got the balls to walk straight up to a pair of thugs… Even if they were reluctant one-.”

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

A chuckle.

”-So WE will definitely be doing something. But before we do, I think it’s important you learn a thing or two about Doc… And Jeremiah. ”

Elijah rolled his eyes, settling on an armchair in the corner of the hospital room. Leaning on a palm he got comfortable to listen to what he assumed would be a waste of time.

” It’s important to know your enemy and know how to fight him. Doc knew - he always did. You see Jeremiah was a sick little boy, a psychopath. He always had a chip on his shoulder and wanted to be the one to run the show - to PROVE that he was better than everyone, to earn every ounce of adoration he could muster. A narcissist if there ever was one.”

“And he was your friend?”

“Yeah, yeah he was. My friend, my rival, my fellow rat on the street. There were four of us and all we had was each other… Beggars literally couldn’t be choosers.”

“How’d a friend end up trying to kill you then?”

“Cos we left him.”

“You abandoned him?”

“Yeah… We did. It’d gotten too much for us, all this gang shit, people were getting caved in, ending up in jail, hurt and in the hospital. We had careers - we could REALLY fight… We had to protect ourselves. Hell, we wanted to protect him - he just couldn’t give it up. He was good at the hustle, and it didn’t matter to him if he was dangerous or not.”

“What’d killing you going to do?”

“If he wanted to kill me, you can be sure I’d be dead. He wants me to worship him, he wants me to grovel at his feet and beg him to let me come back. And he’ll do everything in his power to break me, Chae & Zeke.”

“And what this gotta do with gramps?”

“Well… He was the guy who got us out in the first place…”

A decade and a bit ago.

The fateful four, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Chaeryoung and Isaiah were back in Doc’s apartment. Isaiah was bleeding out on the floor, Chaer had his hand against Jeremiah’s chest and Ezekiel was running around getting Doc the kind of equipment he needed.

It was the tail end of a horrific, near-curbstomp episode that Isaiah had faced at the hands of a rival gang while running errands for Jeremiah.

The young gang leader had his obnoxious chin stuck in the air, nostrils flared - glaring into the skull of Chae.
“You’re not leaving. WE started this, you three are MY generals, YOU are not leaving.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Do you SEE Isaiah right now? This is the third time in as many months. If he keeps getting beat like this, he’s not going to have enough in the head to string sentences together let alone be ANY kind of general.”

“He always talking about how he can fight -”

“Yeah well you sending him deep into Empire lines is your sick idea of proving him wrong? While you sit in your little throne, letting your soldiers get beat the fuck up bring you some kind of joy?”

“This is the life, it’s what we signed up for.”

“It’s what you signed up for, it’s what Pops signed you up for, WE were just trying to watch your back, keep you from killing yourself. But you’ve never paid us that same kind of respect, so we’re out Jer. You can either drop all of this and leave with us… Or you’re on your own.”

Chaeryoung was familiar with Jeremiah’s temper, but she’d never seen him like this. Shoving her back, he bared his teeth and glared down at the still-bleeding Isaiah.

“Who the fuck do you think you are hm? You think you can just waltz into MY gang, and waltz right out? You think there aren’t consequences for this shit? You know how much I had to suffer to let the OGs put me in charge? You know how much I’ve sacrificed for you three, bloodsucking parasites? YOU KNOW WHERE I’D BE IF I WEREN’T CARRYING YOU ALONG?”

Jeremiah advanced on the boy and gave Isaiah’s chest a solid kick in it while Doc’s back was turned.

Ezekiel had just returned, fast enough to have seen what Jeremiah had did. He lunged at their leader, trying to restrain him from kicking his friend again.

”What the fuck Jer, what’s wrong with you!”

Chaeryoung picked herself up from the floor and rushed to Jeremiah as well, only to be stopped by the outstretched hand of Doc.

The war veteran rose, towering over Jeremiah despite being decades older.

”You younguns better take that shit outside, this boy is gonna die, and I won’t have no gangster posturin’ up in here.”

Jeremiah let out a deep snarl, dropping his knees slightly and sending a clean hook into the side of Ezekiel’s head, dropping the large boy to the ground momentarily.

“You think any of you can even touch me?”

The raging teenager slid a hand in his pocket pulling out a serrated pair of knuckle dusters which he slipped onto his right hand. Dropping into a boxing stance he threw a jab just as Chae ducked under Doc’s arm and redirected the punch. Jeremiah grimaced, using his bare left to drop Chae with a fast uppercut to the gut.

Doc simply stood there, arms outstretched in front of Isaiah.

“Boy, I’m telling you - take this shit outside.”

“Whatcha gonna do old man, put those dukes up, I dare ya.”

The older man rolls his eyes, turning his back to the boy. He returned to tending to Isaiah’s wounds, taking a needle and thread into his hands.

“Damn eyesight is gonna make this impossible.”

The disrespect was enough for the young boy to snap. Dropping to a knee beside Doc, he threw a stiff fist towards Isaiah. Doc’s arm moved surprisingly quickly, the serrated dusters cutting into his wrinkled forearms. Jeremiah cursed and swung again, only to be frustrated once more.

Doc’s blood splattered across Isaiah’s already bloody clothes. Jeremiah screamed and slumped to the ground.

“What the f-fuck is wrong with you.”

Ezekiel had pulled himself to his feet and slammed an open palm into the side of Jeremiah’s head, stunning him enough to grab him by the pits and lug him out the door with Chae’s help.

Isaiah’s eyes fluttered open, seeing Doc bleeding all over him while stitching his face up.

“You see, Jeremiah’s got a little bit of an anger problem… And your grandad - he always knew how to disarm him. Narcissists hate it when you don’t give them attention, and Doc never had enough fucks to give.”

Elijah glanced towards his unconscious grandfather with a newfound respect.

“You think you could spot those punks if we drove around the ‘hood? They’re the only lead we got. If we don’t end Jeremiah, neither of you are going to be safe.”

“Yeah, I could. We gonna kill him?”

“WE won’t. I will.”

“You spent all that promo time talking out of YOUR ass, about ME.

Sounds like I’ve found my way into that thick skull of yours, hm?

But I ain’t going to fight myself Corey. I’m fighting you - and while you might think that you’ve got nothing to prove to the fans, what being Universal Champion and all… I’m sorry to say you’re awfully mistaken.

Corey you’re right that I’ve got a messy ol’ record.

But I’ve got a fresh one.

My record proves that I’ve gotten in the ring more times in the last few months than you have in… What? How long’s it been since you ran a real wrestler’s schedule? A year?

You see for as long as I’ve been around, as long as my ears have been wet… You’ve been GONE.

You never had to survive in this company with me around.

Your record doesn’t mean shit until it’s got my name on it.

Cos you’re facing me Corey, for the very first time. Just like Raion did.

He talked shit about my record too.

Yes, I’m inconsistently a winner.

But I’m sure as hell consistent as kicking ass.

At humiliating and taking everyone down a notch.

A consistent VILLAIN.

I’ll show the world Pan, Wendy, Hook all in one - a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
And I’m the fucking crocodile about to end you.

The real predator - the authentic hunter.

Tick-Tock…

I’M starving and YOUR time is running out, Corey.

Enjoy it while it lasts.”

[Image: tick-tock-croc.gif]

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