FEEDERS BEING FED



"Oh, Thaddeus, your pure ignorance is entertaining to me. Your over inflated ego is humorous. You are so quick to point fingers and tell me about mine, but you have yet to look in a mirror and check yours. You may want to go back and watch my promo again, Thad, because you are so off base right now it is actually insulting. Do you respect me that little that you basically watch it on low volume while sharpening the blade on your plastic sword and hot-water washing your plastic Burger King crown? I mean, to address your sheer oversight of my words would be a waste of my time but I am here in Mexico, the Western Hemisphere's skidmark, so why not take a little time out of my morning to talk about just how dumb this kid is while Bruce and Jenny get ready for the day?

Sure, I'll do that. I am the champion, after all. I need to make these kind of appearances.

So.....where to begin, where to begin. Oh, yes. Ahh yes. You, once again, calling your superiors feeders. Well, I mean I know you are young and maybe your hormone driven teenage mind can't process this, but there are levels to this shit, Duke. I totally understand that a good majority of my 23 wins are "feeders", as you call them. They are feeders and were fed. But, Paul Heyman, as much as he is a conniving Jew bastard, has these "feeders" listed ahead of you, doesn't he? Look at the list of "feeders" who are lined up to come after the top title in the business. Gabe Reno, Doc--that's a name you are familiar with, no? Robbie Bourbon, Scully and then Graves wayyyyyy down there at the bottom. Where are you? You've beaten Gabe, have you not? You've beaten Graves, no? Let's look at the Hart Title. Where oh where has Thaddy Duke gone? Caedus, Main, Cadryn---I have to giggle at that one, Ravenwolf, Justin Sayn---who? ANd Killjoy. How about the TV title? Russell Edwards. Aldo, LaVey, McBride, Drezdin of all people. Are you seeing a trend here?

But I know what you will come at me with, so I'll beat you to it. You are number 1 in line for the XWF Unified Xtreme Championship. Oh boy I am so nervous I am shaking in my designer shoes. You have to be kidding me, right? A belt that is one step up from the Heavymetalweight and Federweight, can be defended at any time and is ALWAYS on the line. Is this the type of champion you want to be? Always looking over your shoulder for the bottom feeders of this company to possibly come up through the hole in the toilet and bite you in the ass? At least when I look over my shoulder, I have the best in the business coming after me. Obviously, you aren't listed. So wins over them or not, your accomplishments don't warrant respect just yet. Get into the title discussion, then come at me about "feeders". Has it ever occurred to you, Duke, that perhaps, juuuuuuusssssttt perhaps, that YOU are a "feeder" as well? That YOU are one of the people you throw shade at in every promo you cut?

Mind Blown

I just gave you a spoonful of truth there, my young colleague. Now, what else did you spew from your dicktrap.....hmmm, lets see......oh yes, my match with Graves. Let's be real here.....Graves brought it on Saturday Night. He fought the match of his life. BUT, if this were a regular Iron Man match I had him smoked, crushed. I had to win by three because Kato had his panties in a bunch...but in any normal match I "wiped the floor" with him. The last fall was just icing on the cake. The only reason he had me "on the run" as you say was solely based on stipulations and not on talent. In any normal match, he was long dead and starting to decay. So, maybe go back and reevaluate that argument.

Speaking of backtracking, you may want to go back and watch my promo again. Never once did I call you "top tier". I said you think you are. I said you have potential, some skill, a lot of passion. But you are a prop. You are green. And maybe you should go back and watch it again, you know, for "clarification". Everything I say and everything I do, there is a reason for. My entire goal is to keep you guessing. I may seem like a manic, sporadic, spout-off-whatever-the-fuck-comes-to-mind machine, but trust me I am calculated. Just like you never know what you are going to get when you step into that ring...you never know what you are going to get when I get on the mic, either. It's all part of the plan......

Oh, and you wan't a creative catch phrase?

How's this?

FUCK YOU"

........"And cut." The XWF TV crew was scrambling to get everything picked up and moved. They had a boring promo from another XWF roster member to record.

Chris got up from his chair, beginning to sweat a bit in the Mexican heat. He had been told that Thaddeus had been quite vocal so far. 4 aired promos already? Sheesh, did he have nothing better to do? Oh, that's right, he's one of those "occasional" fighters here. Like Graves he has only had a handful of matches recently....Chris was on his grind every single night. Of course Thaddeus has time.....you can't play World of Warcraft ALL day, can you?

Perhaps you can.

He walked out of the tent where the promo was shot and could see the hotel up the beach in the distance. He had a weight off his shoulders a bit. This match wasn't for the Universal Title and it was a first blood match......hell, this was just plain fun. Making someone bleed AND keeping his title. Hell, how'd he get so lucky?

The sand felt soft beneath his feet. His feet had becoming so accustomed to wrestling boots that he had forgotten what things like sand feel like. The little things in life. Simple pleasures.

But in Mexico, these pleasure's weren't so simple. Men on the beach dressed up as police to "arrest" tourists for petty infractions just to rob them. Men on the beach sold products that made people sick intentionally. Their capital, Mexico City, was so polluted that your legs are covered in coal and soot by just going on a stroll. And they tell you to never leave the resort. There are nasty things outside the resort. Dangerous things.

......So naturally, the chaotic one himself wanted to take a look.

After meeting Jenny and Bruce halfway between the promo tent and the Sandals resort, he told them of him plans to venture into the town that surrounds the hotel........

There was so much delusion and immaturity in XWF, it was about time he got a little dose of reality before he made an 18 year old bleed on Wednesday Night.

Thaddeus Duke was a smart cookie. Sure, this match was set up to embarrass the champ....but Chris said that HE would be the one to flip the script and turn the tables against the powers that be. God he hated when opponents didn't pay attention to his promos. He was usually pretty concise with his shoots. That was okay, because Duke could believe what he wanted. All that mattered to Chris now was proving a point and drawing blood. The rest is moot.

He told Bruce and Jenny to go get the rental car and smiled a sick, tiwsted smile. He was about to see some blood....a nice warmup for Wednesday.

-=-=-=-=-

The car rolled through the beat up streets of whatever the town they were in. Some shithole.

In the states, graffiti covered the shittier towns. Here, it was chipped paint, ripped screen doors and moldy walls. "What a dump", Jenny said under her breath.

Chris grinned. "It is Mexico, sugartits, what do you expect."

Wild dogs roamed the streets and the people who were in the town stared at them with an uninviting look.


Periferia, 100km Oeste (Outskirts 100 km East) A sign read.


Mueva con precaución. Animales peligrosos por delante (Please move with caution. Dangerous animals ahead).

This was fine with Chris. HE was a dangerous animal. He could not and would not be contained. He WOULD make Thaddeus bleed while teaching him a little respect in the process. Just then the smell from the trunk began to get to him. He noticed Bruce and Jenny smelled it too. The wild dogs were following the car now, they smelled it too.

It smelled like blood.

[i]After they got to the outskirts, the car pulled over to the side of the road by the woods. It was more than woods, more like a mini jungle. It was dense.

Not only did they not speak the language, were parked outside thick forestation in a high crime area where bodies go missing constantly, but they were alone.

All alone.

With bloody chunks of meat in their trunk. This was not an ideal situation, but weirdly, Chris preferred it. He felt more comfortable here than he had anywhere he had been in a while.

Putting on what looked like a butchers apron, he opened the trunk. Jenny and Bruce got out, and both immediately held their nose. Jenny almost threw up as the trunk opened.

2 wild dogs, nashing teeth, approached them from the back.

When Jenny and Bruce looked into the trunk, they were horrified. It was the body of a boy, around the same age as Thaddeus Duke, and he was dead. Not only was he dead, but he was a bloody mess. What was left of him was in pieces in the trunk. Jenny, with wide eyes, looked at Chris horrified.

"Where the HELL did you get that?! Please tell me you didn't do this?!!!"

Chris shook his head as the "wolves" approached.

"No, no, he was already dead. But it is crazy what the American Dollar will do. I bought him for $2.50. Said I had to take him out of the town to dispose of him, but I think we have traveled far enough into this shit-storm of a country. Now, the fun can begin."

He put on gloves, and began to pick up pieces of the boy.

"Did YOU cut him up?" She asked.

"Yes" said Chris, with a straight face, cold and unwavering.. "I cut him into pieces and now I am going to feed him to the wolves."

Jenny put her hand over her mouth like she was going to puke. Her legs were quivering, he could see it through her yoga pants. Bruce pulled his flask out of his cargo shorts pocket and began to open it with shaky hands.

"First of all, these aren't wolves," Jenny said in a nervous tone, "second of all---what the fuck. What the fucking fuck Chris? You BOUGHT a dead boy then CHOPPED HIM UP, now you are going to FEED him to these beasts? What if they attack us?"

Chris didn't seem concerned.

"You see, in nature, it is an unwritten rule that you don't bite the hand that feeds you. Thaddeus made that mistake. As long as I hold this belt, and I put asses in seats and keep ticket sales and merchandise purchases throuh the roof, HE owes ME. You see, this is very similar to the Graves situation. Him even BEING in this match is a HUGE boost for him, whether he sees it or not. Him even being in the same ring as me at the same time means, that just for one night, he has made it. He is main event. Then, when I put him on his ass and make him bleed like a stuck pig in front of thousands of screaming Mexicans----he will know who his maker is. You see, feeders get fed. There are feeder fish--they get fed to bigger fish. There are animals that are killed on purpose to be fed to lions and tigers in the zoo....."

Jenny didn't look as impressed as she normally does. He face had a bit of a frown on it as her eyes gazed down to the dead, once-whole boy.

"In the ocean.....do you know how many species rely on the bait fish? Even if they themselves don't eat the bait fish, the schools of them create an atmosphere where every creature for the most part can be fed in some capacity."

He threw a part out to the ravenous pack, it looked like a finger.

"Thaddeus is a bait fish. I have to go through him to get to my bigger prey. What he does in this match matters. If he survives, there are a lot of people who don't get to eat. The title picture changes. The whole dynamic of the "mid card" changes. But when I beat him like the noobie punk he is, and I make him bleed, well then everyone in line gets to eat. Reno and Graves and Doc....they keep their shots. Nothing shifts. Nobody is bumped. You see....in nature....the feeder is important....."

He threw another piece out, this time it looked like an ear.

"But in a controlled environment, it is much, much different. You see, that ring, this company, this is MY environment. I make the rules and I decide who lives and dies.....so in this controlled environment.....those same feeders, they get fed. It is what is best for business. Everyone wants to see Reno vs. Chaos, one on one, for this title. They want to see their hero Micheal Graves get another shot, that rambling Scully, that nursing home psychologist Doctor D'Ville. They all want to see it---you can't be having some high school senior stuck in Halloween mode come in and fuck the entire thing up. I need to be the hero in a weird way...."

Chris takes an arm, and holds it above his head. There had to be 30 of these wild dogs now, and they were beginning to come closer.

"Thaddeus needs to learn that not all hero's wear a cape. Not all kings wear a crown. I am the hero by being the villain. Think about that and tell it doesn't one, make sense, and two, blow your fucking cerebral cortex into the next goddamn century."

Jenny threw up a little into her mouth. The stench of the blood covered partially decayed body in the tropical heat was enough to make anyone lose their lunch. But, it didn't seem to be affecting Chris.

"This boy, he doesn't matter to ME. Just like Duke doesn't matter to ME. Each piece of this kid is like a piece of Thaddeus Duke's career. I am going to chop it into small little pieces....then, I am going to feed it. After I am done eating....it will be open season. I am going to leave him a shell of his former self and let the volchers on this roster come and pick off the scraps of flesh that remain. Duke will be systematically taken apart and when it is all said and done, he will, like every living mamal on this planet, bleed..............."

He threw the arm out to the mosh pit of rabid dogs.

"Everything bleeds. Everyone bleeds. Thaddeus wants to be king....he wants to rule the land. Good, let him. You see, Jen, a lot of people want the crown, but they're not willing to bleed for it.........

.....he is going to bleed to to win, or bleed to lose.......either way, in a way, I win....."

His eyes go wide as he lifts to torso out of the trunk. Blood splatters on his shirt. He doesn't care. On the shirt of the boy, written in the same black spray paint that Chaos used on Ginger all those months ago, was written "Thaddeus" on the back it said "Duke". He took the torso out and with his best effort tossed the lifeless and maimed body to the "wolves." As they got into the car, Jenny puked on the dirt ground below. Bruce finished his flask.

They drove back into town, and nobody said a word.