RECAP When we last saw Corey, he was debating whether or not he wanted to continue in the XWF. To help him make that decision, he decided to take a peek at his future. With Pan’s help, they summoned Neverland’s GreatMother, who successfully transported Corey 40 years into the future. He found himself in an older version of his own body. But that wasn’t the only shock he had in store. He awoke to a world where his rival, Madison Dyson, was now President of the United States. Pan, his sole remaining ally in all the world, informed him that Madison was at the help of a renewed Confederate States of America, and that a new, and dire, era of ultracapitalism had taken the nation by storm. Madison is wildly popular with the people, and her policies seem to have widespread support. But before Corey could consider these facts for long, his motel room was broken into by jackbooted thugs that attacked him and Pan!

Future State

Corey awoke to the thrum of the giant metal beast cutting the sky. His first experience on waking was pain, but it wasn’t as acute as it was before. He reached a hand up, feeling beneath his shirt. Someone had thought to wrap up his torso. His head was also a crashing crescendo, and as he struggled to unblur his vision he soon took in his surroundings.

He was inside an aircraft. A large one with all the posh trimmings like a minibar at the fore of the craft. And Corey wasn’t alone. His heart danced a jig in his chest as he recognized the same black armored men that had attacked him and….and…

….Pan!

Pan…Pan….his voice was but a coarse whisper through inflamed, bloated lips.

One of the guards turned towards him. Just be quiet. He barked.

But Corey was beyond caring what these jack booted thugs wanted. Pan! He raised his voice higher at the expense of a pained tightening in his throat and the tinny taste of blood on his lips.

If I were you, I’d show some respect! It was another of the guards, but he didn’t know which one.

Respect. Corey hissed back mirthlessly. Respect….

Is she ready?

Yeah, let’s do this.

And then, the guards seemed to array at the door that served as a partition between the sections of the ship. One of the guards drew something forth, a head in a jar. Correction, a LIVING head in a jar.



It was none other than famed hype man Michael Buffer himself. Corey squinted in astonishment, and then practically jumped out of his seat as lights began to swirl about the interior of the aircraft and an ominous song started to play.



Corey craned his neck, trying to draw together some semblance of sanity from the display. But it only got worse as the head of Michael Buffer began to speak.

Laaaaadies and geeeeentlemen (and Corey Smith), the following contest is set for one catastrophic verbal bitch slap. Introducing first, the woman who needs no introduction, the longest reigning XWF Universal Champion 44 years running, and THEEEEEE PRESIDENT OF THESE CONFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA…..MADISON DYSON!

The armored men stand erect as a woman wearing a garish flowing robe steps through the door. The grunts on the end throw confetti in the air as the woman dances to the music as she makes her way past the dual columns of thugs.



Just then, the plane gives a slight shudder, leaving Corey gripping his arm rests for dear life. He looks out the nearest window to see a death blossom of flares arcing out from the wings like some perverse form of pyrotechnics.

Finally, the woman stops sashaying and with a cut throat motion calls a halt to the music. She glances back at the detached head of Michael Buffer and pulls out a small towel. Okay Mikey, it’s night night time.

Please Madison, my entire life is pain. Please just end this. I’m begging you, begging you….! But she tosses the towel over Buffer’s head jug and makes her way over to Corey, seating herself across from him and primly crossing her legs. It was now that Corey realized he had been bound, because despite his pain he had made a move to lunge at the woman. Ah, ah, ah…. She wagged a finger at him reproachfully.

However, as Corey’s gaze cleared, it soon became clear to him that the woman sitting before him was not Madison Dyson. Sure, she had the same flowing blond locks, but this woman’s features were more hawkish. More cruel somehow. When Corey recovered just enough, he spoke. You’re not Madison Dyson.

The hell I’m not. Then, with a smirk. I’m Madison Dyson on FLEEK, bitches! You’re not putting the pieces together you arrogant little turd? My original body was destroyed. This is my new one. And it’s fucking FANTASTIC. These tits are perfect. Just the right balance between stiffness and suppleness. Sometimes I jump up and down in front of my own mirror just to watch them undulate.

Fuck you! Corey spat. Where’s Pan?!

Dead. Madison drank in Corey’s response. Or…maybe not. Look, I got a lot of shit on my plate! I can’t keep track of the Schrodinger’s like existence of your twink chocolate pusher!

Corey again fought against his bindings. And a mournful sound emanates from beneath the towel covering Buffer. Shut the fuck up, Buffer! You’re supposed to make like a parakeet and think it’s night time now!

This is all so fucked…. Corey slurred, some blood making its way past his lips. What do you want? How did you find me?

Madison’s attention was fully back on Corey now. Oh, I’ll give you more than that! I know who you are. Who you REALLY are. Mammon’s mystics had you pegged the moment you time shifted “Corey from 2022”. I just don’t know how you did it.

You know?!

Of course I know. I know everything. So tell me, just how saggy and pathetic are your old man balls now? Are they hittin’ the knee caps yet? Your flesh clackers. I bet it hurts.

Corey stayed silent, unwilling to bite at Madison’s crudeness.

Ok, so business then. Yeah bitch, I know it's a younger you currently occupying older you. I don’t know how, but here we are. Unfortunately for you, you time hopped right as the final shoe dropped and I decided that the perpetual past its prime sitcom that is your pitiful existence had reached its end. Since your little rebellion I’ve taken exquisite pleasure in watching the remainder of your days play out like a slow motion train wreck. You and Pan, you and Pan, the last best hope for humanity. Except Pan settled for love and had no idea you were plotting one last run on me. Or, at least, old you was.

Good.

Madison leaned back in her seat. Good? Does this look “good” for you, Corey? You dumb motherfucker, Old Man Smith did NOTHING that sunk beneath my notice. I had eyes on you the whole time. You couldn’t so much as jerk your feeble pud without me noticing it! Sad!

Corey turned his head away from Madison, trying to calm himself, trying to just THINK god damn it!

Words

I’m sure Sarah is working you soooo hard you just don’t have time to cut a promo. I’m talking squats ‘till you puke. Laps till you collapse. Drills on the punching bag till your knuckles are bleeding. I’m sure that’s how hard she has you going. Because that is the explanation I must accept.

Long, protracted silence

UGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

You’re telling me I got two opponents in a row that don’t give a shit about winning the Supercontinental championship? I can’t even blame Vinnie or Theo this time, as much as I’d like to. I picked this turd! And by turd Angie, I mean YOU. Just in case there was any confusion there.

I wanted this to be good. I wanted this to have some heat to it, baby. I mean, you are one of the most decorated newcomers to enter the XWF since Saint Peter de Toilet. And with my mentor Lux’s history with Sarah? It makes me just want to…want to….WANT TO….

UUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

This could have been so good. So, so good. But instead, because of my completely disinterested opponent, it’s so, so opposite of good. And now, here I am, forcing myself to consider if THIS is the match I wanna go out on. This limp dicked hollow facsimile of entertainment. Is THIS how I want it to end?!

God DAMN IT. Shoulda went with Kido.

But, alright, this is the hand I’ve dealt myself. So I gotta play it, right? I mean, after all, her complete lack of interest in this contest doesn’t take away her extensive history in other promotions. It’s just that somebody forgot to remind her to give a shit HERE.

Well Angie, suffice it to say, I give all the shits. All of them. And that’s why I’m going over you at March Madness. I simply don’t know how to “not care”.

What you’re doing Angie is disrespectful not only to this championship, but to me. Because believe it or not, I did this for BOTH OF US. When I saw that you had signed on here I got really excited. I knew at that moment I had to face you. And that such a match would be a huge boon to both our careers. No matter who won the actual match, it would stake you out as someone who isn’t just an outsider from some cream puff federation. And it would stake me out as someone who can hang with the best of the best from outside these walls. Yeah, I put a lot of thought into this. And it pisses me off to no end that you’re not.

So, fine, you want to ignore all this? I can play that game. I’ll talk about something else.

Let’s talk about Corey Smith’s career.

I’ve gotten so many tweets, DM’s, and singing telegrams from fans telling me they don’t want me to go. I’ve had guys and gals in the locker room tell me they don’t want me to go. That includes Charlie Nickles. He came to me privately and cried, openly SOBBED, about the prospect of me leaving. I mean, he was snottin’ and could barely get a word out, it was honestly kinda pathetic. So I just gave him one of those half hugs that’s barely a hug and said “there there” and pointed him to the nearest pile of filth he could roll around in to take his mind off it. True story. Whole thing.

And I’d be lying if I said these entreaties don’t weigh heavy on my heart. I don’t like to let people down. And if you’ve spent your free time and maybe even your disposable income supporting me….? *Sigh* It feels like I’m slapping you all in the face. And I’m sorry.

So I guess what this is is me walking you all through my thought processes here. You deserve at least that much.

It’s not like I don’t like competing anymore. Clearly, if what I already had to say about my “opponent in absentia” is accurate, I still love me a good fight. I do. But then again, I have this full rich life completely outside the XWF. I have the commune. I have my friends. I have….I have Pan. Whatever Pan is to me right now.

What I don’t have is Christian. And that hurts. And it’s him leaving that has reminded me, once again, of how fleeting happiness can be. And how much limited time we all have to truly appreciate the special, beautiful things in our life before they’re gone. So I started asking myself how much stuff I’m missing while I travel the world kicking people in the face.

Christian left me because of the XWF and all its inherent strangeness. All that fantastic, gorgeous, epic strangeness. All that dangerous, terrifying, alienating strangeness. It drove him away. And I get it. I don’t begrudge his decision at all. And no, this isn’t just some bid to win him back. I accept that he’s gone, even though a part of me will always love him.

I know some people will see my choice as weak. But really consider who those people are. Because they’ll be the same poor bastard misbegotten souls who couldn’t recognize love if it was hanging from the tip of their broken noses. The same people who think love is found in a pool of spilt blood, or a razorblade across the flesh. They worship a blank god in a chapel of pain. And if that’s my alternative, I’ll gladly choose the road that’s soft.

To those that will miss me, I’m genuinely sorry. Hopefully you can understand why I’m doing this. Thank you for all your support. I was wholly unworthy of it, but you gave it anyway. I love you guys.

I guess I’d be remiss if I didn’t circle back around to my “opponent” Angie Vaughn. But what’s the point? Hey Alias, at least one of us gets a Vaughn who wants to put up a fight, eh? Ehhhhhhhh.

There’s still time Angie. Still time to show the world you care. Still time to make me not wholescale regret this entire thing. I don’t honestly think you’ll make productive use of that time, but a boy can dream, can’t he?

Yes, he can.

Future State

Corey rallied his senses into coherent words. How did you do it?

Do what?

What you did. With the country.

Madison laughed, and it was like flesh pulled across serrated glass. Oh honey, it was easy. I just appealed to humanity’s baser instincts, like I ALWAYS do. A little splash of fear here, a little international dick waving there, the promise of a return to quaint middle class affluence…yadda, yadda, yadda. But here’s the clincher. She leaned in. I delivered. I delivered everything they ever wanted. Even the things they were ashamed to admit they wanted. I gave it all to them. Segregated schools? Hey maybe that WASN’T such a bad idea. Randian libertarianism in the board room? Let’s give it a go. Corey, baby, sweety, I made it sexy to be a greedy selfish pig again. It was the 80’s writ large once more. And the people have loved me for it for over 30 years.

You’ve been president that long? Corey couldn’t restrain the disgust.

Of course! The proles LOVE me! They rewrote the whole damn Constitution just to keep me around longer. Suck it, Roosevelt!

How do you explain that you don’t age?

Pffft, like they care! They’re just tickled pink to have a president that they’d want to tickle their pink.

They wanted this. These people wanted this. Corey boiled inside for the thought of it. Maybe they didn’t deserve to be helped.

So what happens now?

Madison smirked and looked upward as though pondering. And then, that smile grew still more devilish. I think I’ll drop you out the back of the plane.

She’s not joking. Corey started to fight with his bindings, pulling and tearing, but it was no use. Even if he had been in his best shape, now, 50 plus years old with a couple of broken ribs, there was simply nothing he could do. What happens if I die in this body?

We can make a deal, Madison.

Can we?

Just drop Pan and I on some secluded island somewhere. We’ll make no moves against you.

You’re assuming he’s alive.

Goddmn it! Just tell me!

Madison tutt tutted. You’re not sounding like someone who wants to make a deal.

Corey forced himself to mellow. Please just tell me if Pan is alive.

He is. For now. And ya know, speaking of Mr. Twinkletoes, there just might be something we can make a deal on.

What?

Neverland.

Corey bristled. He would never….

He may not have a choice. Madison retorted. Mammon has been trying to gain access to Pan’s humble abode and it’s largesse of resources for decades, but he hasn’t been able to gain any ground. If Pan can get me in there, I might spare you both.

He shook his head. Pan would never agree to that.

Well, why don’t we ask him? Madison gestured towards one of her guards, who disappeared into the next section of the plane. Soon after, he returned, carrying a bound and bloodied Pan.

Pan! Corey shouted at the sight of him. Pan’s body was just one big angry shade of purple. His face was swollen and distorted, with a thin trickle of blood and saliva escaping from the corner of his lip. Both his eyes were swollen shut, and he was cuffed behind his back. You didn’t have to do that!

He resisted! The guard dropped Pan at Madison’s feet, and she prodded him with the tip of her shoe. You awake?

Pan groaned, slowly trying to prop himself up. Corey…?

I’m here. Oh God, what did they do….

I’m okay Corey.

Of course he would say that. Of course his first priority would be reassuring me.

Pan, we’ve got a million dollar question for you. And bear in mind, that both of your fates are tied up in how you answer it. She pushed on Pan’s abdomen with her foot again, this time harder, making him fall to his side. If you can get me into Neverland, I’ll let you and Corey live. You can sodomize each other to your hearts content on some deserted isle. How’s that sound?

It sounds…Pan gasped….like you can fuck yourself.

Madison cleared her throat. Once AGAIN, I will KILL both you and COREY, if you refuse. Would you care to change your answer?

Pan looked up at Corey, and now tears were working a shallow eddy down the dried bloodstains on his face. Corey, I’m so sorry.

I know. I know. It’s okay. Corey closed his eyes so Pan wouldn’t see the fear in them.

It’s not okay. None of this is okay. Then, to Madison. You won’t have it. You won’t have my home.

Fine. Boys, take them to the back of the plan and dump them out the cargo door. They’re boring me.

The grunts move in to pick Pan up, and two more go to unclasp Corey from his seat. Pan tried to rip himself out of their grasps, and was met with a punch to his midsection for his efforts. Corey was hastily shakled behind his back, and they started to drag both of them towards the back of the aircraft.

Corey, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! Pan was begging, and it was breaking Corey’s heart.

I’ll go back and I’ll fix this Pan! This won’t happen. I swear to God this won’t happen! Can I even promise that?!

A button was depressed, and the cargo bay doors at the back of the plane slowly opened. Their surroundings instantly became wind tossed and cold.

Please let me hold his hand! Please! Pan pleaded with his captors.

My kid was always a fan of yours. So I’ll make this easy on you. The man in charge leveled a handgun at Pan’s temple and fired.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Pan’s body hit the deck, lifeless. The guard that shot him booted his body until it’s momentum carried him out the back of the plane and into the unforgiving skies. Corey started to sink to his knees, but he was forced to a standing position.

You don’t get it that easy. Drop him.

Corey was forced further along, the wind whipping him about, and before he knew it, everything was sky. He was falling, gravity and it’s foul works pulling him to his demise. Corey howled in rage and fear as he plummeted. Down past the low hanging clouds and….water. It was all water beneath him. And it was approaching fast. Corey did all he could, holding his breath and shutting his eyes, waiting for the bone shattering impact.

And then, he was submerged, but he felt no pain. And he was still conscious. Daring to open his eyes, he saw the same bright light in the fathoms as before, and he swam towards it, eventually coming to in….

The Grotto, Present Day

Corey’s head broke the surface of the water. He gasped in the air greedily as the last vestiges of pure panic began to ebb. I’m safe. I’m safe.

Pan walked up to him, and bent low to put his arms around Corey as he suffered wracking relieved sobs.

You’re okay now, Corey.

But Corey didn’t speak for some time. And when he did, riding on a tumult of confused feelings, he looked up into Pan’s eyes, and pressed his lips to Pan’s. Pan reciprocated, sinking down to his knees in the shallow waters beside Corey, their lips never parting. Their hands reaching and finding desperately.

They made love in the waters of the grotto. And afterwards, Corey worried it was all just to forget.