September 16
The Wainscott Compound

White hot pain fanned out the back of Corey’s skull as he came to. His eyes irised open and immediately shut again, because the presence of bright lights only served to intensify his headache tenfold. But, as sense started to trickle back in and his nerves got back to work, Corey became acutely aware of a disturbing fact.

His feet were not on the ground.

Corey grimaced and forced his eyes open, sucking down the pain of the throb in the back of his head, and barely resisted the urge to panic. Corey was held above a massive cage, almost like a bird cage, with an opening at the top. He was restrained into a harness attached to a thick metal chain on the ceiling. And though his hands were bound Corey was still able to sense that the ring Pan had given him, the one that accidentally took him to the In-Between, was gone. Of course, it wasn’t as if he’d be able to use it in his current state anyway.

fOooooOOOOD!

A voice called out from below, and Corey’s gaze penetrated the painful aural miasma of the lighting long enough to see that there were six figures in the cage below. Each one looked like Dexter Bright, but they were covered in filth. One of them was even wearing a Sesame street shirt that looked to be hosed in vomit. And, when one started talking, they all started pointing up at Corey and cheering.

FooooOOOOOOOddddd!

They’re calling me food. Oh Jesus, where the fuck am I? What is going on?

Hello Corey! A choked voice called out from down below. Corey grimaced again, fighting back the pain in his head, as he scanned the outside of the cage and saw the human nightmare that was Ambrose Wainscott. He was flanked by two security guards, while a third man, closer to the cage, had his eyes trained on the Dexter’s.

Bring him in closer. I want to get face to face with the little cocksucker.

Corey felt a jolt behind him, and he started to move. Slowly, up and over the cage and then lowered down to Wainscott’s level. Corey could hear the Dexter’s anticipatory snarling behind him.

Do you remember me, Corey?

Yes.

Wainscott actually looked a little surprised. Or as much evidence of surprise as that melted face could provide. Oh. I actually wasn’t expecting that. So you’re well aware of what Lux did to me.

Yes. Corey admitted, knowing full well where this was going. Corey had practically begged Lux to put Ambrose out of his misery back then, rather than leave him with a broken neck to burn to death. But Corey wasn’t about to offer up that information in a paltry attempt to bargain. He knew there would be no bargaining here, so it was pointless to try.

Wainscott moved his wheelchair in with the toggle next to his only remaining movable limb, getting as face to face with Corey as he could. Corey stared back into those blackened washed out pools that Ambrose called eyes and he could almost have been sick. So you know Lux left my crippled ass to burn.

I do.

And how do you feel about that Corey? Hmmmm?

I have faith she did what she needed to do.

Ambrose barked out a throaty laugh. “Did what she had to do.” You realize what she did to me was some war crimes shit, right?

It sounds like you made plenty of people suffer. It sounds like you deserved it.

Nobody deserves this! Ambrose hissed, spittle flicking from his hole of a mouth into Corey’s face. Nobody deserves the daily pain and agony. Nobody deserves to piss through a tube their whole life. Nobody deserves to go their entire existence without so much as being able to jerk off for lack of a steady hand and a burnt up dick! WHO DESERVES THAT COREY?!

Corey was almost tempted to feel sorry for the man. Almost. If Lux hadn’t told him of the horrors Ambrose Wainscott had meted out on others on a regular basis.

It’s my unfortunate duty to inform you that you will not be making it to Relentless. An event which, ironically enough, is “Hell” themed. No, Corey, no,no,no….you’ll be too busy wrapped up in your own personal hell RIGHT HERE. Wainscott pointed at the Dexter’s in the cage. You see those animalstic imbeciles? I taught those living brain stems to eat human flesh Corey. And guess who’s on the menu?

Jesus. Corey tried not to let his fear show. But he was damn near boiling over. Was this how it ended? Being eaten alive in this hell?!

Take his shoes off. I want them to tear into his feet first. The grunts moved over to Corey, untying his shoes. Corey was too bound to do anything but watch them do it as they pulled off his footwear and socks.

Oh look at those little piggies. Too bad none are going to market today. Hoist him up!

No, no, no! Oh God! Corey wailed inawardly, struggling against his bindings. But they held fast. The hoist lifted Corey back over the top of the cage. I have one chance to save myself. Corey thought, and he started to push his body in a rocking motion, swaying back and forth above the top entrance to the cage, hoping to avoid the plunge into it.

God damn it! Can’t you see what he’s doing?! Hoist him up again.

Corey felt himself violently jerked back up again, and again he tried to sway away from the opening, but this time they dropped him too fast for him to succeed. Now, all that was left were the brainless ravenous Dexter’s not even 20 feet below him. They started to leap and grab at him in their perverse excitement. Tears pushed out of Corey’s eyes. He didn’t want them to see it, but all he was inside was anger, terror and desperation.

Please God not like this….not like this!

But then from the depths of despair, a miracle transpired.

Not too far in the distance, Corey could hear the distinctive sound of gunfire. His plummet into the maws of those frenzied Dexter’s mercifully ceased.

What the fuck is going on?! Wainscott coughed out in a fit of rage.

Just then, another Dexter exploded into the room, armed with a rifle. He raised it at the first of Ambrose’s guards and fired before he could even retrieve his sidearm. The other goon was a bit faster on the draw, but still got plugged square in the chest. The Dexter’s handler, who had been operating the hoist, threw his hands in the air and yelled something in Spanish Corey couldn’t descern. He got shot anyway.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?!

HORSE PENIS! Dexter shouted back at Ambrose. He grabbed hold of Ambrose’s motorized chair and tossed him out of it to the floor. YOU MADE ME SUCK HORSE PENIS! Dexter marched over to the Dexter’s handler and grabbed a key ring off of him. Then, going to the cage door, he started trying the keys in the lock one by one.

NO! Don’t open that you fool! They’ll eat us alive!

By now, the Dexter’s attention had been drawn away from Corey and to the door, which they were now eying expectantly. Finally, with a *clink* sound the lock gave way.

Sayonara suckwad!

He opened the door. The Dexter’s lunged forth and Corey fully expected his rescuer to be immediately dragged to the ground and devoured…but they just ran right past him…and straight to Ambrose. They crowded around Ambrose’s downed form and in an instant the perverse billionaire couldn’t even be seen through the feeding frenzy that commenced. His screams cut off after about five seconds. Corey shied away from the gruesome scene and chanced calling out to his rescuer.

Hey! Can you get me down?!

The Dexter looked up. Oh shit, how did you get up there?!

It…it doesn’t matter! Do you see that button to the hoist over there? Just push it.

The Dexter did as he was told and soon Corey was back on terra firma.

Cool! Now help me unlatch this harness please! The Dexter did that as well, helping Corey to free himself. Thank God you came when you did. Thank you so much!

No problem man.

I’m glad you’re not one of those…uh….other Dexter’s.

I know what you mean. I can be kind of an asshole sometimes. Dexter looks back at the others still eating Ambrose. We should probably get the fuck outta here before they start lookin’ at us the same way they look at old Ambrose there.

I agree. Where do we go?

Follow me!

Wait! Corey stopped short. The Engineer? Where is he?

Huh? Oh I don’t know where that guy goes.

Are you sure? He looks different now. Corey proceeded to describe Pan but the Dexter just looked at him blankly at first before the lightbulb came on.

Oh shiiiiit. That guy bailed like a few hours ago in a helicopter.

Fuck! Corey eyed the ravenous Dexters nervously. Alright, lets move.

September 18
Neverland

So you just LEFT?! The hatchet faced boy on the prosecution side inquired.

Corey, who was now sitting in defense of himself in a folding chair next to Judge Kevin’s ramshackle podium, replied. I didn’t have much of a choice. There were rabid cannibals and whatever was left of Wainscott’s goons on the property. Plus Dexter said he was already gone.

JUDGE KEVIN I OBJECT! Pedro interjected.

Judge Kevin eyed him up with disdain. You’re objecting to a statement from your own client? What are you, a moron?

No, I’m objecting to how mean the prosecution is being to Corey!

You can’t object to meanness!

Can to!

Can NOT! Final word! Kevin banged his gavel.

Fine, then can I say something?

I guess.

Pedro came out from behind his table and took center stage. Look guys, I know we all miss Pan. I do too. But I think we’re also being real tough on Corey. Pan demanded to go with Corey, he didn’t give Corey much of a choice. And how were they supposed to know they would end up going face to face with that many Dexter’s at once! That’s a lotta Dexter’s and I think any one of us would have gotten our asses kicked!

Not me! Sounded off the boy from the prosecution.

Yes you would have, Ralph, shaddap! Pedro adjusted his vest smartly. As I was saying, Corey wasn’t given a choice. Pan took away that choice, and things went south. We cant blame Corey for that. And furthermore, I think it’s clear that Corey still loves Pan very much.

I do. Corey replied solemnly.

And I believe Corey when he says he’ll move Heaven and Earth to find Pan again. I really do. And with Corey on the case, I gotta say I like Pan’s odds.

Pedro shot Corey a thumbs up and Corey returned it.

I think I’ve heard enough to render my verdict.

Corey took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.

Corey, I’ve never liked you.

Well this is starting out fantastic.

But for some reason our good friend Pan sees something in you. He sees something worth loving. And that’s a pretty big deal. I also don’t think you meant to get Pan hurt. So, because I’m a fair guy, I’m NOT going to banish you…

Corey let out a whoosh of relief. Pedro clapped his hands together and did a little jump in the air.

….YET.

Pedro cut short his celebration and Corey looked to the judge.

Corey, I am putting you in charge of a mission to find Pan and bring him back to us. And Pedro? You’re going too!

Me?! Pedro squeaked. But I don’t know how to fight!

Well, you better learn. And Corey, you have three Earth months from today to find Pan and bring him back unharmed. If you don’t, consider yourself banished! That’s my ruling and I’m sticking to it! He banged his gavel one final time. Pedro ran right up to Corey.

Ah geeze Corey I don't know what to do. I'm pretty useless at adventuring. I'm not like you.

Corey patted Pedro on the shoulder. Don’t worry man, after that stellar defense of me there’s no way I’d let you die.

Pedro smiled warmly, still clearly existing in the afterglow of his favorite XWF superstar. Corey just wished he could share in those optimistic feelings. Losing Pan had left him feeling like anything but a “superstar”.

NOW

The shot panned over the length of Corey’s home. The construction was clearly getting further along, with more parts of the damaged property mended than not. Corey stood in one of the main living areas, admiring the very expensive handiwork of his contractors. But it was worth it. In fact, it had even given him the chance to enact some much needed upgrades. Every cloud, a silver lining, and all that. Corey spun about back towards the camera.

And here we are at the beginning again. He gestured back at the house. But I actually don’t want to talk about that. Thunder Knuckles craven strike at the heart of Coreytopia has been discussed to death.

No, instead, I want to talk about TK’s promotional masterstroke. His piece de resistance! Yes folks I’m talking about TK’s admission that he’s too dumb to understand what I’m saying. And what’s more, he assumes you’re all too dumb to understand what I’m saying too.

Corey wipes his hand down his face in consternation.

TK, your admission doesn’t make you some folksy antihero, man of the people. It makes you a fucking idiot. It makes you the kind of fucking idiot that pisses a man off to the point he crafts a SAW flavored death match just for you. It makes you the kind of fucking idiot who describes your fight strategy to me so I know precisely what moves to avoid. And most of all…

…it makes you the kind of fucking idiot who’s happily willing to grab each and every single one of those briefcases to get what you want. You see TK, I don’t think the nature of this match has sunk through that sodden moron swamp you call an intellect. In fact, I KNOW it hasn’t because you had the dumbass audacity to call me a COWARD for creating it.

Thunder Knuckles, does a man who is a coward fill a ring with 19 different tortures to potentially wade through on the way to becoming a Universal Champion? No, TK. The cowardly thing to do would have been to keep this easy. To create a match that truly would have benefitted me and my superior speed and cardio. But I didn’t do that. I crafted an experience designed to make us BOTH suffer, bleed and sacrifice for that Universal Championship. Now does that sound like the work of a coward to you? A masochist, sure. A lunatic, most definitely! But a coward? Just more bullshit from Them No Good Bastard’s lesser half. 

Shit, you don’t even understand the rules of this match, do you? You asked what happens if you inflict a chosen torture on your opponent rather than yourself? By God you make stupid seem like genius by comparison. Let me tell you what happens, gifted one: YOU LOSE THE MATCH BECAUSE YOU REFUSED TO DO THE CHALLENGE. So yeah, ply that one out and see how it works for you. 

You’re just doing what you always do, TK. Plunging ahead with the same kind of willy nilly blase ignorance. You’re the kind of man who addresses every problem by flailing your arms wildly and hoping the problem runs into you. You know, like a CHILD. Completely unwilling to accept that you’re already in the thick of the problem as it buries you alive.

Oh, and big GRATZ for being the one millionth depthless void of creativity to call me the bad guy and accuse me of using my friends. That is the calling card of everyone who has run out of things to say about me but wants to crank out a couple more minutes of content to appeal to whatever slavering masochists watch your bullshit parade.

TK, I haven’t lost my fire because I paid you some due deference. In fact, the fact that you perceive it that way tells us a hell of a lot about your childlike vision of what dominance looks like. You think it's all blustering bravado and tired trash talk and maybe that's because that's what you're used to.

But that's not what I am. Not anymore at least.

I have honed my rage like a craft. Turned it from a clumsy maul into a lithe stiletto aimed at your heart. You spent a couple minutes thinking about turning some flippy shit into a powerbomb? Goody goody. Because you know what I've been doing? Watching every single one of your matches for the last two years. Channeling that anger into a cold, dispassionate quest to undermine everything you do in the ring. TK I know what fist you lead with. I know which way you tend to dodge. I know what chances you are and aren't willing to take in the ring.

Bitch, I KNOW YOU. And I GOT YOU.

But I’ll join you for a moment in fantasy land. Yeah, let’s share a moment in consideration of Thunder Knuckles as Universal Champion. I’m sure you’d like to think you’re on the precipice of something legendary. Maybe even outlasting Alias, or Robert Main, or even the original Engineer. Too bad all signs point to “no”.

So, TK, are you aware there are, like, TWO 24/7 briefcases in circulation? Both of which held by former Universal Champions? One of which held by your BFF forever in the whole wide world, Bobby Bourbon? Speaking of which, have you two had a discussion about that? Figure it might be relevant given the implications and all.

Oh, you haven’t?

Ruh roh.

What’s more, how much gas do you think you’re going to have in the tank after this match? And let’s just blitz past all that ignorant bravado and stick with reality this time. The answer is NONE. No gas in the tank. Not after you’ve taken tweezers to your gonads or stapled your ears to the sides of your head or whatever other sick shit I came up with.

So, TK, are you aware that this is, like, RELENTLESS? The grandpappy of them all? The biggest show in the entire XWF pantheon? Boy it sure would be neat to cash in a 24/7 briefcase on that show…uh oh…

Are you picking up what I’m putting down? I mean, I know you’re mighty slow on the uptake by your own admission, but are you really getting it?

Just how long do you think this reign of yours is gonna last?

And I’m not gonna lie. A small part of me, very, very small mind you, is kinda slavering to see the angst and heartbreak that gets written on your face if Bobby Bourbon cashes in on your bloodied carcass at the end of Relentless. Have you even considered that? I’m guessing not seeing as how you’ve tap danced around the spectre of that scenario the entire time.

So it’s summary time kids. What we have is a severely overconfident nimrod who scarcely understands the English language, who doesn’t understand the rules of the match he’s entering, who thinks that I’m just going to walk right into his counter moves after he spelled out what they are (and which he didn’t think all that hard about anyway), who, even if he wins, stands a very high chance of getting cashed in on (maybe by his best friend), and becoming the biggest Universal flop since Bobby Bourbon himself.

Ooof, that’s a mouthful. But unlike pretty much anything Thunder Knuckles has said, actually holds a candle to objective truth.

And hey, I’m well aware that the doomsday scenario could happen to me too. I’m well aware I could just as easily get cashed in on at the end of all this, and that by creating this match I just might have signed the death certificate of my own Universal Championship reign.

But ya know what?

WORTH IT.

Abso-fucking-lutely 100% WORTH IT. Just to see you suffer. Just to see you agonize over whether or not 1 more torture is worth the gold. Just to see you looking up at me with those pleading eyes as it all comes crashing down on you that maybe, just maybe, you SHOULD NOT HAVE FUCKED WITH COREY SMITH.

Was it worth it for you, TK? Boy I sure hope so. Because at Relentless, you’re gonna hurt. You’re gonna bleed. And you’re gonna beg the bastardly father in the sky to make it all end. But it won’t. Because there will still be 10 odd more briefcases to go through. And a million miles to go before you can rest.

Joachim Bright peeks his head around the corner. Hey, Corey? That sounded like denoument to me. Are you done?

Yes I am done. And incidentally thanks for dropping another word that’s going to confuse Thunder Knuckles. What’s up?

Come on out front and see. Joachim ducked back out of the shot as Corey looks at the camera, mystified. But head to the front he does, and as he steps through his home and past the threshold of the front door, he’s greeted by a sight that gives him pause.

All of the residents of Coreytopia have amassed on his front lawn. Joachim stands on the front steps, smiling wide as he looks up at Corey.

Listen man, we all talked it over, and, well, we don’t want you to close the commune.

Corey looks moved, but still apprehensive. But Jo, we talked about this…

Yeah, and so did we. We understand the dangers. We understand your concerns. And we want you to know that we stand with you. All the way. Because we all think this community is worth it. We think YOU are worth it. And that no matter how many times people have tried to drag you through the mud because of Coreytopia, we know you’re a good, honest person who just wants to make people feel safe and hopeful. And that means the world to us. So, will you please keep the commune open? Please?

Corey looks deeply torn as he looks out at the people. HIS people. HIS friends. And as he considers each of their faces in turn, he doesn’t see fear or regret. He sees happiness. He sees hope. And he sees a faith in him that he hasn’t felt in quite some time. Corey takes a moment to brush away an errant tear before it can crest onto his cheek.

I don’t know what to say…

You can start by saying “yes”.

Corey is still for a moment before finally nodding his head. Okay…yes. My answer is yes. We can stay open.

His people erupt into cheers. But Corey holds a hand up to quiet them.

But there’s something I need to do. Pan is still missing. And I need to find him. So I’m afraid I won’t be around much. I’ll need a stand in. Someone I can trust. I have somebody in mind, but I need to talk it over with him first. Corey shoots a furtive glance at Joachim. Joachim parts his lips a bit in surprise but doesn’t let on any further hints that he understands.

But yes, as long as I’m still breathing, this community has a place. And we won’t let hate tear it down. Thank you all for believing in me.

With that, Corey steps out amongst his people, finally feeling home.