[You will be lost if you haven't kept up with the storyline. IF you care to know what's going on please back read]




Revenge, forgiveness, faith and healing.
Not necessarily something you would expect to learn from a man of god. But this is not just any man of god. This is Morbid Angel and his newfound faith.
We have been over his church, his beliefs and his angle towards religion and it is an obvious take on something you would expect from him.
Were still where he was about to make his decent into the darkness and despair of having nothing and no one.
He had just beaten the corpse of a dead woman he was sent to embalm and get ready for her funeral. This is 2016 Morbid Angel.
His anger always swelling like some sort of infection that you cannot cure.

The woman on the table was once beautiful but now something of corruption. The unforgiving terms of life is the ultimate reality of death.
Nothing can stop the inevitable, not all the science in the world and fear of it drives people to religion.

Nobody wants to die but it is the only certain thing in this world. The only thing we can truly wish for is something quick and unknown to us. Some do not have that privilege of idiocy.
In this case we can clearly say that this woman suffered a relatively quick death, weather it was painful or not is not for us to know.


Morbid stomps around the room looking at the corpse he just abused. It is a crime to harm a corpse and what he just did was a crime, now having the unsightly task of fixing more of her face. On top of her stitches there will now be some facial reconstruction of her nose and jaw.
Somewhat easy fix. He’ll break her nose back into place and use a medium gauged pin to hold the break into place and her jaw will be wired shut so the break is not visible. It is not like she’ll ever talk or smell again so what’s the big deal? He just used her as a little stress reliever.
He fixes her corpse up, stitches her gashed face and repairs her nose and jaw then does her makeup.
You must be good at cosmetology to be a good mortician. Might sound like something odd, seeing Morbid Angel in cosmetology school learning how to apply blush and eye liner. Would make anyone laugh at the thought of it but, alas, it is art.

He may have fixed her and made her beautiful again, but he didn’t take into account that there was a camera rolling during his little temper tantrum for an interview later that day.
Morbid was notorious for having long and drawn-out promos that seemed to go on for a lot longer than they should. Doing embalming or some other activity before talking had become common place for him and this time it caught up to him after the husband of the woman whom watched the XWF and watched what Morbid Angel had done called in and ultimately Morbid Angel lost his license to be a mortician due to desecration of a corpse.
He did not worry too much about it. He had been a mortician for over 25 years, and it was something he enjoyed but as all good things come there is a time when they all should go. He was not sad, he was just disappointed in himself for causing it.
He still had the federation that paid him very well as a main event attraction. Should be more than enough to cover the costs of Morbidonia and his addiction to steroids.
How long could that last is something he did not think about at the time. After all he was 47 at the time and no one’s career will last forever, no one lives forever.
Death is something he never really concerned himself with. Living like a true immortal, eating pain and spewing hate was something he enjoyed given his masochistic tendencies. After two heart attacks from his drug abuse and he still did not slow down enough to stop and think about life.
Was the XWF something he should keep doing?
He might have actually thought he was immortal and could do it forever considering people half his age were retiring from the XWF at the time. Nothing could stop him as he ran through the federation like a wildfire, catching everything ablaze that he came in contact with.
All this came to a screeching halt when he was asked to lead a faction only to have the faction members turn on him in some weird coup taking him from power and kicking him while he was down after losing the Universal title that same night. This took it’s toll on Morbid Angel. Made him think weather he was still someone to be feared or just turned into some weird joke that people point and laugh at because he was so eccentric in every facet of his life. His dour appearance was always commonplace so no one could really tell his true feelings.
He was angry, he was actually more than angry. He was pissed the fuck off. His pissiness was something that could be seen and felt as he tried to regain what he once was, going after titles and people alike.

Losing.

He could do nothing to stop it as he was driven by nothing but hate and this clouded his judgment on a lot of things, even in his matches.

Then there was a time when after losing so much and showing disregard for the management staff, after suspensions and threats of canceling his contract…he was fired less than a year after the closing of his funeral homes.
Now he had to live off his saving and his expensive lifestyle was something that costs a lot of money. The Mortgage on Morbidonia alone was nearly fifty grand a month and he was barely making that with just the XWF checks. Plus, he always had a new Lincoln Navigator. Every year he would trade in the last years model and get a new one. Which did not even make sense because the body styles change every five years, and the options were just about the same for each model during span of time.
I think it boiled down to him just wanting to have the newest one possible. It is all about status with him. The vehicle was big enough to fit him comfortably and was a good price at around seventy-six grand.

The bank account dwindled into a laughable state as Morbid tried to keep what he had. His bank accounts were nearing empty and he had already sold his stocks to try and keep things going but it was futile. The bank foreclosed on Morbidonia a year later. For the first time in a long time Morbid Angel had nothing but his SUV and what little money he had in his bank account, which wasn’t much at this point and the repo men were out looking for the Navigator. The bank auctioned his belongings, and he was only allowed to keep what he could carry which was mainly what he had left of his steroid stash, protein powder and some clothes.
Because he had nowhere to go, he ended up sleeping in Wal-Mart parking lots.
Eventually, the repo men found him lurking around the local gyms and took the Navigator and everything inside, leaving him with nothing except the clothes on his back.
Now he was homeless.

When Morbid got out of his daily workout regiment he noticed the Navigator was gone and after a few moments of trashing the parking lot he slowly walked away and towards nothing in particular.
Where was he going to go? He was never homeless in America before. He was homeless in Russia and this was back when he was a kid. So, here he is. Walking…at least the sun was still up.

His first night outside was spent in the park where a lot of nefarious activities take place in the dark. Morbid wasn’t afraid though. Anyone fucked with him would definitely feel his wrath and there was plenty of that wrath to give.


Fast forward a year later.


Morbid Angel, homeless, wasting away to the size of a normal man. Seen begging for money on the street corner. Rock bottom never looked so bad.
He begged for money to try and get back to the gym to build what he lost but every gym wanted more money than he could make in a month except Planet Fitness, they were the cheapest alternative but still the nearest one was too far for him to reach without moving his entire camp miles. He already tried the town in which the Planet Fitness was, and it had no place for him to really beg and make enough profit to pay for the gym and food.
Would you give money to s 6’10 man with an ugly face and a grumpy attitude, holding a sign that says “Need money for the Gym. Satan Bless You.”?

Most people didn’t unless they thought it was an elaborate joke or recognized Morbid Angel for being the former behemoth of the XWF.
Truly degrading
He lived out of trashcans and slept behind dumpsters but before then he still tried to keep up appearances as the muscle-bound beefcake he was.
He was a desperate man trying to get what he needed to reach the levels he once was on. He would do anything from stealing chickens from local farms and eating them partially raw due to the fact he didn’t cook them properly.
He would hang around the local bathhouses to try and get secondhand Godshots.
What kind of former Spetsnaz member would flounder so badly when put in a situation like this?
Wouldn’t he be trained to destroy the wilderness and live off the land?
Perhaps depression got to him and caused his great decent into darkness and despair. Afterall, he is not known for his happy disposition.
It is hard to motivate yourself to get better and fix your position when you feel nothing but darkness. It’s like a disease that rips through your body causing pain and hopelessness that can’t be repaired and if it could it seems like a distant thing that will never come.
Depression is something that touches all people at one point or another. Some people are more likely to recover quickly, some it doesn’t bother to any real extent. But to others it is life. It is everything and it will consume every aspect of your life and cause you to fall and either die or just live in shear agony. The only thing for some people to do is to smile and pretend everything is fine, joke, show a happy face, smile and laugh. Underneath all of it is nothing but that soulless existence.
Morbid Angel did not show a happy outside appearance. He showed how he felt on every aspect of his being. An aged, ragged, deflated man with nothing to lose and no ambition to try and win anymore.
It was Theo and Lane that brought him from the darkness and showed him that proverbial light. Without them Morbid could very well be dead. He could still be homeless and eating out of trashcans. There is a good many possibilities that could have happened but they didn’t.
Sometimes it takes the kindness of others to bring you from your hole and live again and this is something that sadly rarely happens in this world.
The odds of Morbid being found by people that knew him and not to mention, people that Morbid Angel despised. Yet they still helped him. Even if it was just handing him a card that he could have seen himself.
Morbid Angel owes a lot of what he is today to those people. Doesn’t matter if they did it as more of a joke or some kind of social experiment to try and see if Morbid would take the bait. Still, Morbid has returned from the grave!
Not that he was dead. He wasn’t dead…it’s a metaphorical grave.

We know that Morbid Angel was the accountant for a much smaller church when he first started off after crawling up from the bottom. He made a meager salary, but it paid the bills. He had made the decision to read the entire bible to get more of an understanding about what he was “promoting” by working there. He saw the way the preacher lived, and it was much better than those that worked for him. He drove the finest cars, lived in a large house that costs more than five years of pay for 3 employees.
How could a man of god that preaches so much about being humble to others become so wealthy?

Tithing

It is the birth of corruption. It is how the churches make their money and it’s how those who run the church prosper.

Once he read the bible, he came to the conclusion that it was a collection of fables written by goat herders. What knowledge could he get from such a book at this point? It surely didn’t inspire him to change his personal beliefs. He had been humbled by their kindness and helping him out when he was down. He was raised to such a position because he wasn’t some bumbling idiot that sucked at life. He listened to their prayers, he read their words and he understood that you attract bees with honey.
This was what it was all about, to attract the lowly, to attract the weak and the needy. This is what God is about. It’s a ploy to get people to give their time and hard earned money to someone else just for talking at them. It’s not even a personal connection between the preacher and the other party.
It’s easy to smile and shake hands, to believe is something completely different.
How is it that someone could read such a book and be like “OK, this is 100% true, Obviously, Duh.”

Morbid found a lot of it laughable. Noah’s Ark, Lott’s Wife, Sodom and Gomorrah. And don’t even get him started on Abraham.
People think this book is wholesome for the entire family. To teach their children that it’s OK to kill someone because god forgives, it’s OK to own someone because god said it’s OK. It is OK to lay with your family, to rape, to pillage, to steal.
It was like reading a George R.R. Martin book. It has every facet of the imagination going in all directions with every “what the fuck” moment you can think of.

At that moment Morbid Angel decided that this was something he could do. That this was something that he was willing to do. He read the “good” book and was ready to take the next step but first he needed to establish himself in the eyes of the church. The old pastor was not going to live forever. The man was 85 years old and this might be his only chance to get to the top. He sees no one else trying to get into that position and all the pastors children wanted nothing to do with the family “business”.

All he needed to do was show a little initiative.

The next day Morbid took what little savings he had saved up to buy a car and bought a suit. It wasn’t the best of the best but it was respectable enough. He went to the barber and had his hair cut and his beard trimmed. He even got a gym membership to appear healthier to those he was trying to draw in.
No one wants to really follow an aging, out of shape man. If you are more attractive and fit with a dash of charisma.

The world can be your oyster.




Here we have it. Present day. A rare shot of Morbid Angel at his home in Boston Massachusetts. It was a large home paid for by the donations to his church. Not as large as the one in Morbidonia but still it could be argued to be a better home and better taken care of.
He was outside on this cold day cleaning his modest SUV. He changed from the Lincoln Navigator to a regular Ford Expedition. After a lot of penny pinching, he decided that they were in fact the same vehicle but with different names and the cost was nearly 20k different and for what? A few extra speakers and a different color interior? Get the fuck out of here with that shit.
The road salt was all over his fresh black paint and in his mind he could hear it eating away at his clearcoat and starting to rot the metal…fucking north!
With the cold air blowing he was out with the garden hose spraying it down before soaping it up for a good wash.
He casually looks at the camera that had been watching him for a little while and begins to speak.


“As I’ve heard, instead of getting a title match right off the bat, I am stuck in a number one contenders match.
For one, what the hell! I am Morbid Angel and that used to carry weight. I should be able to challenge for any title I want without question.
In a way I can understand that I’ve been away for quite a few years but still…Morbid Angel!”


He sprays a burst of water into the air like it was supposed to be fireworks after saying his name in an epic tone.


“The match is against Robbie Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles.
Should be a good fight. I’ve seen Robbie work before, and I can say that I don’t respect him, but he gets the job done in his own way. I remember when he was new here and was trying to find his way. He attached himself to a group of degenerates that walked around doing heinous things to people. I guess that worked because here you are. Sucking the life out of the fans with your lackluster performances in the ring.
I guess I can only imagine what will be said about me, I’m sure you’ll take the same avenue as everyone else and say how dumb I am, how stupid I look and make some wild accusations that can be flicked away.
Oh, I’m so excited!”



Morbid starts to scrub his car. He starts at the top of the SUV and works his way down. If you start low, you run the chance of getting a piece of sand in your sponge and while washing you could scratch your paint. That’s why you see cars with swirls in the paint. No Bueno.


“Now, Thunder Knuckles. I don’t know you at all, but I will cast judgment on you because of who you tied your ship too. You joined with Robbie Bourbon so that means you are a like minded person. You’ll probably go on about how I’m a Fake, How I was never important and a has been. Everything I’ve heard before in the past. I am used to it by now.
There is nothing new you can say. I’ve been called everything and all I can really do is laugh and use the same old defenses I’ve used before to defend myself against verbal attacks.
Even if were talking and you whip out the big guns and pull shit from the past, what can you really say that would get under my skin? Will you say that I couldn’t win to save my life? Because that would be a lie.
Would you say I’m a failure? That also would be a lie.
Perhaps you’ll talk about me not being a musclebound freak of nature anymore. Maybe you think I’m weak and an easy target.
Shit, I heard there were kids running wild in this bitch wrecking people. People twice their ages so what’s the shocker if I am still here at my age and in my current shape.
I think you will find it very hard to talk shit because you already know so little. Even Robbie knows very little about me.
Perhaps you can ask some of the people that I’ve faced to tell you things about me. Use that against me. But it’s all hear-say at this point.”



Morbid starts to spray off the soapy water with the hose again.


“Now, I hope Mastermind has my back. After all he came to me asking for a partner. I don’t want to beat these two whores of Babylon by myself but I will if I have to.



The scene fades to a blood red.