Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Prince Adeyemi · (11-18-2023)

Stage 5, Acceptance: Reality.

“I come to do the Devil’s work.” - Reverend Hale, The Crucible.

Doc stood smiling, an arm draped around a youthful Isaiah who looked slightly uncomfortable at the touch. The crinkles around the older man's smile and the crows feet around his eyes betrayed years of pain and suffering.

Doc had lived a full life, one of excitement, ambition, harsh reality and growth.

He had grown from a boy to a man, and then passed that wisdom on to the generations that followed him.

For all the sins he had committed in his life, Doc was a good man.

Elias Hussein was a good man.

“I'm keeping this, don't matter what you say.” The youthful voice shook Isaiah out of his reflection. Putting the framed picture down, the only picture he still had of his mentor, Isaiah looked up at his mentor's grandson.

“It's all yours kid, whatever you want, but let me see it first.”

Elijah Hussein Junior was holding an old M1911 .45 caliber automatic pistol, one that had “Blood Cross” etched onto its barrel. Isaiah extended an arm out and waited for the young boy… Or was he a man now?... hand it to him.
”What’s this mean?” The boy asked, pointing the words.

”His call sign, the medic who spilt as much blood as he patched up.” Isaiah replied, a smirk on his lips. The young man’s eyes widened as he handed over the weapon.

Stripping it with ease, Isaiah took out the firing pin and pocketed it quickly before reassembling it for the boy. “You'd be a fool to think I'd hand you a working gun.” His face stretched into a tired smile.

“Whas the point of a gun that don’t w-....”As Elijah whined on about being responsible enough, Isaiah's mind drifted once more to the days that had passed since the funeral.

They'd laid his mentor to rest - Ezekiel, Himself, Doc's best friend and…. Ned Kaye.

It was an odd inclusion, but one that seemed fitting after Elias got injured from Theo's odd entrance.

It was chaotic, with Flynn, Theo and Kaye there.

But that was what Doc had always been about, welcoming the chaos into his home and dealing with it. Making it feel loved. Sending it out a little better than it came in.

And so it only felt natural for Isaiah to try and do the same. To try and make a ridiculous situation work.

To accept reality and make the most of it.

“I'm gonna kill that mother f-” Isaiah's eyes darted up once more and he spoke up before Elijah could finish that sentence.

“Watch your mouth, at least here. What's wrong?” He arched an eyebrow at the kid, trying to peek at what he had in his hand.

Still gripping the disarmed pistol in one hand, Elijah had a name card in the other. A simple black card with the words “Kingpin” and a phone number embossed in an emerald green.

“A literal calling card… Like some dumbass, two-bit Batman villain…” Elijah was fuming, a finger wrapped around the trigger of the pistol and… and… a tear streaked down his face.

Isaiah pushed himself off the floor, away from the boxes he was sorting through and walked up to the boy. He wrapped the boys wrists in his larger hands and met his eye-level.

“He must've come here, like the pussy-ass bitch he is, just to spite us. But that don't mean we let him.”Isaiah smirked at his own cursing, easing the pistol and card from the boy's iron grip.

“We don't play into his hands, he's just a coward playing the villain… You and I, Doc - We the real men here. The real threats… The threats he doesn't want growing. That's why he's screwing with our heads. And real predators don't give in to puppies playing wolf…” Isaiah managed to get them both from the boy's hands. He slipped the pistol into his waistband and gave the card a look, suppressing the urge to yell out in anger too.

He did everything within his power to control his anger, for the sake of the young boy.

He was all Elijah had left, parents out the picture, lord knows doing what.

Grandfather six feet underground.

Elijah was either with Isaiah or chucked in the system.

The CPS agent had already made a visit and it was only through the aggressive, yet stoic, intimidation of Ezekiel that she had promised to return another day… When the family was done grieving.

Isaiah was no father.

But he certainly was loyal.

He wasn't going to let Docs legacy get thrown into a broken system, or give everything up in the name of revenge - he won't let him become more broken than he already was.

He'd figure something out, he’d “father” this child the only way he knew how.

This was his, no… their, new reality, and he and Elijah both just had to accept it.

“Mr Knuckles,

Ol'Thundero.

How's it going, champ?

How's holding the weight of the entire XWF on your ungrateful, unambitious, good-for-nothing shoulders been?

Don’t worry, it’s been plastered all over your face since you picked it up.

It's heavy, isn't it?

Even without ever holding it myself, I get it, because I've gotten up close and personal with the sorry punkasses who've come before you.

I saw the look in The Lions face as he saw his title reign slip through his fingers.

I watched The Heroic Predator stare blankly into the rafters with despair as he saw… A rookie beat the living shit out of him.

I relished as I felt Raions shoulders go slack and give in to the humbling force that I am.

And then I watched as a shell of a man, a man not even worth his monikers, walked his ass into a triple threat and basically laid down his already forfeit life.

To someone other than me.

And then boo-hoo, I had to see it happen all over again.

This time it was a broken-hearted sob-story that would allude me first.

He pranced through the federation trying to be a fighting champion.

And for what? To face visitors through our door? To rekindle old relationships? To fester in the corruption of the veterans?

I watched him dangle that belt like it was some retirement trophy, handing it to men past their prime instead of one hungry on his heels.

Men passed their prime like you.

Corey knew his days were numbered, he knew his time was coming. So he thought he'd enjoy it while he could.

And then when our dear Corey finally conceded to facing me, in his much-loved cage match, I saw him crumble under the weight of a true title bout.

With ALL the advantages.

With ALL the momentum.

With ALL the adoration.

I saw him falter and stumble, realizing that it was a weight he couldn't bear.

Not while I was on his heels.

And so it took a spineless bitch and a compensating four wheel to have that belt slip through my fingers again… To have Corey reign for another two weeks, as half the man he was before.

Only to hand that belt to a man who's done nothing in this federation all year.

To a coward.

To hand that belt to you, Knuckles.

And I say HAND, because you and I both know he was in a pit of true despair even before the bell rang against you.

Who would enter another cage when they'd just about lost the previous one?

Who'd make the odds go against them with your stupid stipulation of luck and pain?

Who would put themselves through that?

Only someone who realized they were a fraud, unfit to be champion in the premiere wrestling company in the world.

After facing me, Raion knew his time was ticking. After facing me, Corey knew his reign was coming to an end.

Yet, after facing me - you probably still don’t know shit.

Because that's just who you are Thunder.

A man in denial.

You rot in your pit of ignorance, drown out the sound with your merry bunch of idiots, go on drug fueled fantasy trips.

Just to forget that you're just a regular ass nobody.

Hell, half the time I confuse you for Buster Gloves.

You’re rot Knuckles.

You’re rot not because you don't know who you are like Raion.

You’re rot because you know who you are but refuse to accept it.

You're in denial.

Stage one, I think that is?

And its a rot that’ll spread to the rest of this company if someone doesn’t do something about it.

You ain’t a good guy, nor are you a bad one - regardless of how much you want to lie to yourself and us.

Neither heaven nor hell want you.

Never too good to be a hero, and certainly not driven enough to be a villain.

So you saw your chance at gold and thought… As a good guy there's no chance in hell I'd win this belt, nor the hearts of the fans.

No, who you were before you showed up on the scene to antagonize Corey, that guy was a bore. He didn’t deserve that belt.

A lukewarm nobody.

So you cooked up this plan, to play the villain.

You took one look at Mark Flynn, at The Mechanic, the various other villains who've come and done so much in the past…

And you thought you could be them.

You thought you could finally be someone.

Stage two: Anger.

You took all that self-loathing and poured it into comical villainry.

Plough through a match, raze a town, kill a child

You tried so hard to be TRUE EVIL.

But who’re we kidding, you're just playing one.

Like a comic book villain you plot and muse, you rage and act aloof - all while your true self begs to come out.

We aren't idiots Knuckles - myself, the XWF Universe as a whole.

We see right through you, and honestly WE’VE accepted who you are.

We’ve accepted that you’d stay in your lane, tell a few jokes, spit some bars and disappear into oblivion.

You're a boring ass nobody, who's about to lose his title to a much more entertaining, real human being in yours truly.

You're a seat warmer, a throne hogger.

You got that match with Corey cos the bookers were asleep and didn't wanna switch it up last minute after Corey scraped by with me.

Probably would’ve cost them too much to change the posters or something - you know how they’re all about that marketing. I hear the even hired someone full time to promote this shit.

You only got that title because it’d have inconvenienced them to change their plans.

Corey would’ve handed that belt to whoever got in a ring with him after he lost his SOUL to me.

It should’ve been me, but it wasn’t.

But it certainly shouldn’t have been YOU. A damned vulture picking the scraps off a dying legend.

You SHOULD’VE been left in the trash and we'd have saved the XWF two months of absolutely nothing at the top.

That’s the real cost the company had to pay - the cost of having a champion who does shit all while holding their top belt.

You took that belt and decided it was time to retire, time to kick it back and play some poker games instead of taking this company UP.

How could you do anything else? Like pornstar’s top simp getting a chance to hit, you lost ALL motivation the moment you added that title to your achievements.

How the hell are we supposed to take you seriously, Knuck’?

You thought you escaped hell with Corey but really… All you did was end up in another mess.

You claimed the throne with no plan ahead, and now you're just roaming the plains of oblivion, in your self-imposed purgatory.

And it's from this purgatory that I shall free you.

There ain’t gonna be no stage three or four, no bargaining with devil, no post-nut depression.

I'll do what the Devil should've done.

I’m speeding things through.

I'll ease that burden off your shoulders.

I'll save you from your mediocrity and your burden to be something.

I'll help you see that you career is better off dead, retired for good, so you can go play your poker and blackjack in peace.

Maybe you can even work on your flow and write a few bars.

You can say thank you later.

I'll bring you to the very last stage: acceptance, and you're so damn close to it.”

Isaiah stood by the door to his gym, the words “Kings Court” stuck in old sticker into the woods.

This gym was his everything.

It’s where he first learned how to kick some real ass.

Where he learned that to truly have something, you had to fight for it.

Where he learned that when the world gave you a shit hand, when it kept everything you deserved away from you…

When it gave that shit to punks who didn’t deserve it…

That you forced their hand.

Where he learned that true legacies weren’t built on handouts but on bloodlust and effort…

On strategy, calculations.

It’s where Isaiah learned to be a killer.

It was also where he and his friends first got pulled into the underworld. Where he first learned who Doc really was before the war, before he became a man.

This gym was the base of the true King’s Court, the criminal syndicate that maniacal coach Pops masterminded - using teenagers to do his dirty work.

Where he had first truly come head-to-head with his then best friend, Jeremiah.

It’s where that same friend murdered his mentor and claimed the criminal throne.

This is where everything began. Where his grief, his joy, his anger, his ambition… EVERYTHING began.

And so when Jeremiah turned on him, when Pops was murdered, and when the gang crumbled without a leader… Isaiah worked his ass off to buy this gym back.

He bought it but kept it closed, just for himself and his friends. A place for them to reclaim their fighting careers, for them to start fresh.

But all it did was keep their grief growing, their anger to keep festering. All it did was keep them in a cycle of self-hurt.

A relentless cycle that reflected every aspect of his life, from his relationships to his career.

No more.

The King’s Court was dead.

Jeremiah ran EMPIRE now.

Pops was dead.

Less the gruesome apparitions that popped into Isaiah’s mind when he was at his lowest.

…Doc was dead.

And Elijah was about to fall into the same pit of grief if Isaiah didn’t do something about it.

And Isaiah couldn’t allow that. Not now, not when he had accepted his reality.

The pain would end now.

And he’d do it the only way he knew how.

Isaiah looked up at the door again, inhaled deeply and lifted a hand to the flaking sticker. With a scrapper in hand, he began to chip off at the sign and got to work.

”Yo, what the fuck’ is a Crucible?”

“Again and again you passed me up for men lesser than I.

Again and again you passed me up for men who proved to not deserve that belt around their waist.

Men who disappeared into oblivion the moment I came up on the scene.

Men who melted at the heat of my ambition, MY FIGHT.

And so at this Fire and Ice, I’ll show all of you. I’ll show the world.

What true FIRE is.

I’ll put you all through the crucible.

Alongside you, we’ll all have our merits tested.

By the flames of war, we will be refined.

Not just Thunder Knuckles, not just I, all of us.

And when the fire cools…

When the burning embers die…

There will only be one.

Therewill only be purity.

There will only be the strongest.

Standing over the purified bodies of men past their prime, men past their worth…

Relishing in the worship befitting of the strangest.

At Fire & Ice…

There will only be Isaiah King - The Kingslayer - The Heir Apparent.

And I, will finally take my throne, a better man than I’ve ever been before.”

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Stage 5, Acceptance; Reality
Author	Message