From high above Lambeau Field in the nose-bleeder seats… The doctor waits. He sits comfortably in the blistering cold, puffing away at a cigar…. Watching the action below.
The Beast reaches one knee before stepping up to his feet where Thaddeus Duke comes out from the corner looking for a third Superkick only to see The Beast counter with a JUDAS EFFECT elbow strike to the temple of the Champion!
Thaddeus falls backwards into the ropes where he bounces forward and into a boot to the midsection from The Beast that doubles the Champion over where he delivers the FLIP PILE DRIVER!
HHL: HIGH TIMES!!
The Beast rolls Thaddeus over making the cover on the Champion!
1!!!
One section of the stadium goes dark.
2!!
Then another section.
3!!!
When the referee’s hand slaps the mat the final time the rest of the arena goes completely dark and silent. The roar of the crowd is no more and the scent of cold and winter in thr air transitioned into a spoiled egg-smell. Doc sighs and attempts to pull a long drag from his cigar, but with the darkness came an even colder wind that apparently was too much from the burning end of the stogie. The ring bell rang out and bellowed like a distant church bell; it made Doc think of a recording that was played back in slow motion.
DONG…
DONG….
DONG…
DONG…
DONG…
DONG…
He sat motionless in what was a stadium seat, knowing that he wasn’t in Lambeau Field any longer. The darkness had consumed him once more. The slimy, slithering vines from before crept their way in and began to weave themselves in and around Doc’s legs and arms. They gently worked their way up around his shoulders and around his neck where they began to pulsate like veins pumping gallons of blood to a heart. Light footsteps echo in the darkness and grow louder as if getting closer. A fiery blaze ignites in front of Doc and burns high above his head before calming down into a small crackling campfire.
The slippery grip around Doc lets up and, like a flurry of snakes, retreats back into the darkness. As soon as he is released a cold hand touches his shoulder. He wasn’t startled by it, nor was he curious enough to look down at it. He feels the long pointy fingernails gently and playfully caress his shoulder and around his back. An icy shiver shoots up his spine and the shadowy-being surrounding him lets out a quiet giggle that echoes through the void. Doc says nothing.
Shame… Shame… Shame…
Doc smiles and closes his eyes as the soft hand reaches around to his cheek. The whisper had feminine and masculine tones all at once… Like a young woman backed with a growl and it sung to the doctor in a whiny, melodic tune.
All that work… All that effort…
The hand slowly claws away from Doc’s cheek leaving three razor-blade thin slices across it that begin to bleed.
Wasted?
Now, I wouldn’t say THAT...
The fire in front of him bursts towards him and kisses him on the nose like it was responding to his comment.
What WOULD you say?
Doc remains motionless, allowing the blood on his cheek to trickle down and begin to dry on his wrinkled face.
The boy, apparently, wasn’t ready.
You said otherwise….
I did, but he was so easy to break that I believe it works both ways. The war in his head and the war on the battlefield coincide and even each other out. He surrounds himself with all of this positivi---
The tentacle vines are back and one tightens around Doc’s neck cutting off his air and his speech.
You’re beginning to make us question…… Your abilitieeeeeeezzzzzzzzzz…
The grip lightens up and Doc let’s out a gasp.
You’re making us quesssssstion….
Perhaps it was a mistake to push him so quickly. The opportunity presented itself and I thought it was foolish to not take advantage of it. He was alone in a losing fight, so I tipped the scales and eliminated his problem. He brought the fight against his nemesis and I forced HIM to be the hero in that story. We walked away champions and those titles gave him the strength, courage, and momentum he needed last long enough in the Battle Royale to make it easy to manipulate the match in his favor…
The cold, gentle hand returns to Doc’s shoulder. It makes him stir more than the snake-like arm that was just choking him.
Maybe you grabbed the wrong leg?
Doc smirks and chuckles to himself.
I don’t think so.
The control you thought you had was weak. You relied too much on him and now you have nothing. Again.
This is not over. A slight misstep. The future holds great things, you’ll see.
For your sake, let us hope you’re not mistaken. We remember all too clearly the last time you lossssst control of your UNIVERSSSSSSSSSSE.
We certainly do, Doc thinks to himself and a sharp pain shoots all through his body as if the creature behind him wanted to add to the reminder. An icy gust of wind blows behind him and flutters the flames to the point the fire is barely lit. A cold breath of air expels from Doc’s mouth and the darkness of the void latches onto him.
Don’t make usssss regret thisssssss….
Yes……
My queen….
The whiny-hissy voice fades away and in a flash Doc finds himself sitting in the stadium seat as the crowd reacts to the crazy Main Event they just witnessed.
Doc lights up another cigar as the conclusion of Snow Job plays out with the new champion and B.O.B. celebrating in the ring. He gazes at the nonsense playing out and begins to miss the silence of the void.
After turning over every rock inside that boy’s brain, I thought I had him figured out. With the heart and pride of a lion, with the confidence of a master of his craft, and with my leading hand…. This outcome seemed impossible in my eyes.
How they deceived me.
For months, we watched this story play out. For months, we endured. When the flames finally began to die down, Cataclysm was no-more and the path to the top of the mountain was cleared. Thaddeus Duke reigned as I held the UNIVERSE within the palm of my hand.
That was the problem, you see. My grip was weakened by another outsider. Corey Smith.
I’m beginning to believe that at the very second Duke retrieved those titles from the top of the ladder, he had planned on handing a third of our championship to that murdering avatar. Was I played? Did the boy see my green, glowing eyes and seek saving grace in a place where trust doesn’t roll easy from the tongue?
It’s not like Corey Smith is any good for him, either. It’s not like he has an angel on his shoulder now to counter the D’Ville that’s taken residence there. It’s not like the battle of emotions inside his brain is getting any resolve by placing it next to a straight up blood bath of emotions. A burning car next to a burning house may not look as bad as the other, but it’s still bad and neither of them are helping the other. As I fueled the flames within Thaddeus Duke and made him see himself as unbeatable, the distraction only reminded him of his mortality…. As I brought Thaddeus Duke to embrace his hatred and use it as a weapon, the distraction would say, “I love you, man,” and color over the black in his heart. After making this boy shine far shinier than ever before, the distraction waits.
Waits for what, you ask? Well, the opportunity to present itself. The boy has convinced himself that his tiny little run was satisfying and career-defining. Why wouldn't he be surrounded with all the love from his supporting cast. Even Paul Heyman gives this boy a reason to hold his head high after miserable failure…. Yes… Let us all gather around him, rain him with hugs, kisses, and pats on the back…. Let us tell him there is nothing to worry about and everything will be alright. Let us convince him that the Tag Team Championship is far more important now and we should focus all of our attention on them… All the while harassing the new champion into a showdown for the recently lost title… But, surely, it has nothing to do with the gold, am I right? Surely there is more to it than avenging a loss?? What are friends for? We'll have to wait and see, won't we?
In the meantime, I suppose I have some smaller tasks to tend to. Bearded War Pig has returned to the XWF and with a stroke of bad luck landed on Warfare with your's truly. This isn't unfamiliar territory for him though, my friends. Pig and I have shared a couple bloody canvases in the day and knows that no battlefield he has ever tread his boots upon can match the horrors and pain that he will succumb to. He knows and recognizes the good doctor like no other enemy he has ever faced. He knows that I am no faceless, nameless monster across enemy lines, waiting and calculating the perfect attack.
I have a face. I have a name. That name echoes through the halls of this FINE federation and forever haunts anyone who had the displeasure of crossing me. Pig knows this and while fear may not be in this young man's vocabulary… the feeling is clear and spelled out all over his bearded mug.
You, sir, have come to Warfare at the wrong time. We are a few short weeks from March Madness, a tournament which I am already claiming victory, and this ain't even a warm-up. It is no exhibition. It is an example of what is to come in March. When you enter this boiler room, Pig, I suggest you take a liking to the cold, dark depths of it. You're going to spend quite some time down there after I slaughter you and rip you limb from limb. Maybe coat yourself with some Mrs. Dash while you're oiling yourself up pre-match to make it easier for Bobbie Bourbon to locate you and piece you back together? There's a guy that is still trying to brush the taste of my boot from his mouth! So, take it from him, Pig; I am not the same fellow you may remember from before. I am not the same big bad wolf, little pig… I am far worse than anything you could imagine and bigger and badder and starving.... I made my climb to the top of the mountain once before... Some anticipate the day I do it again, while others believe I never left. They have felt my presence looking down and always had an eye over their shoulder in case I decided to drop in. My accolades and accomplishments that precede me are feared and respected by all, but what they fail to realize is that MY ultimate defining moment in the XWF…. Has yet to come.
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