We’ve seen this already. King Doc and his nefarious smile. His Majesty lying on his broken back. The Almighty Ruler of the XWF in all of his glory agony. Beaten, bloodied, and torn apart.
You should see the other guy.
The war that was just witnessed between these two titans literally nearly brought an entire (mansion) house down. As ironic as it sounds, Coreytopeia could barely contain this madness. A place created under madness. That thrived under madness. Corey Smith took the place over after his resurrection or whatever and, of course, after Madison Dyson, the prior-owner to the place, passed away. We’ve all heard that part too, sorey. But the place was now made for little misfits like Corey and Dolly to apparently live out their days together with a bunch of people self-sustaining in a paradise. Sounds like a sitcom. Or a rehab center. Or an . But I’m not here to decide that.
The point is, Corey takes this place to heart and for him to allow Dolly to invite some madness back in is surprising.
Que sera, sera, right?
Que sera, sera.
The King sits upon his throne within the grand hall of this glorious castle. His two enforcers, Sir TK and Sir Bobby Bourbon, stand by his side looking forward and on their guard. The castle remained the same as it did before, even after the siege that had taken place weeks prior. Banners hung from the ceiling behind the throne and a long, red rug runs from the steps to where King Doc sits to the entrance. Several displays of taxidermy hang on the walls like wild boars, elk, bear along with some other dangerous predators like lions and tigers. What a sight. The grandest of grand halls.
So, what of the prisoner (patient)?
The King asks wearily.
Sir Bobby Bourbon turns about and leans in just a tiny bit and speaks.
Well, Your Majesty, the prisoner has been subdued. By your request, we’ve hung him upside down by his ankles completely naked and smothered him in cooking oil. 80% Olive, I recall.
King Doc looks to Sir Bobby Bourbon.
I never requested that.
Sir Bobby Bourbon looks puzzled for a moment then looks to Sir TK then back to King Doc.
No. Of course you didn’t. Heh. I’ll just. Pardon me, I have to use the restroom.
Sir Bobby Bourbon removes himself from the throne and the King looks up to Sir TK and raises his brow. Sir TK shakes his head and puts it down then follows his fellow enforcer behind the throne and down a stairwell.
And His Majesty lets out an audible sigh. He closes his eyes before sinking his shoulders down into his throne. It wasn’t a moment later that little Dolly Waters(not the one hosting the show, mind you, but little little Dolly. Like… Eight year old Dolly...) poked her head out from around the back of the throne. She skips around to the front and leans in.. She’s a bit dolled up wearing a pink little dress and some very fine, shiny looking shoes with a pink bow in her hair.
Whatcha doin’, Dawk?
The King smiles and tilts his head to see her.
Just thinking.
She smiles a very toothy grin (you can tell it’s still infested with a ton of baby teeth, all mangling her little jaw) Her image flickers a couple of times then disappears and the same thing happens again. Dolly comes from around the throne in her pretty pink dress and stands before King Doc.
Whatcha doin’, Dawk?
King Doc frowns and stands up from his throne and the image of the little girl poofs away like a cloud of cigar smoke. The King paces back and forth before the front entrance to his grand hall is pushed open! A great light breaches this dark place and shoots across illuminating the entire room. The King stops and looks towards the light, smiling, before taking a seat back in his throne.
About ten minutes ago…
Damn! This place is pretty!
CCP, wearing an open shirt and some tight leather pants, steps off the helicopter carrying his XWF Universal Title under his one arm and the arm of Miss Fury under his other arm. Nice. He walks away from the chopper as it lifts off again from the Helipad of Mastermind and soars back into the blue sky. CCP and Miss Fury stop just before they take the small pathway up to the Mansion of Mastermind.
Wow. This place is really fucking great. Doc has some connections, huh?
Miss Fury just smiles and tightens her grip around the champion before they begin the trek down the hill towards the property. As they approach the wind picks up and CCP loses his hat. It blows right off his head, swirls around, and is gone in the wind. Miss Fury laughs as CCP pouts a bit over the loss of his new favorite hat (he’ll buy another one), she pats him on the head and the two continue.
She shivers.
Eeesh… You feel that?
Feel what?
Nothing.
A feeling of dread was in the air and Miss Fury just shook it off knowing what they were probably walking into. The two approach the main doors to the mansion and open them together to a blinding beam of white light. They look at each other before shielding their eyes, grip the other by the hand, and step through.
There’s a chill and an eerie feeling in the air as they walk through this bright void. After a few steps and several seconds, starting at the tips of their toes a glowing aura rises up their legs, past their bellies, to their chest, over their shoulders, then finally, above their heads and changes them. Shiny armor takes the place of the tight leather pants and Miss Fury’s leather suit becomes a long black dress. Like a rip in the white walls that surround them, a new scene opens and the two of them are walking down the red carpet towards the throne where the King sits and waits. The two reach the throne together and each slightly kneel down.
Sire!
Highness.
Sir Chronic! Lady Fury! Please, come join me on my Royal Throne!
The King smiles and allows them to rise and they take a seat at the two small thrones beside him that were apparently installed when we cut away to the helicopter arriving ten minutes ago.
Where be the Royal Enforcers, your Grace?
King Doc scoffs.
Tending to a new prisoner (patient), I would imagine.
Lady Fury looks over to his Majesty with a smile and admiration.
I must give the King credit in his quick actions after the attack we suffered. Our plan is reliant on a quick recovery and you’ve succeeded with that, Sire.
So you’re saying you like what I’ve done to the place?
Deep in the bowels of the King’s castle is a place as dark as the glorious void. A long stairwell from the main hall will take you there, but take a torch because you’ll need it. The steps wrap around and around as they spiral down well below the ground until you reach a flat with a large wooden door. The odor is awful like rotten eggs, mold, and a hint of feces. If you’re brave enough to venture through the door, it will obviously moan, creak, and groan open. As it’s cracked open, a white mist (or fog) escapes and wraps around your feet like a kitty-cat until you step through the wholeness of it yourself.
It’s definitely cold, no wind, and you’re skeptical to look down at the muck you’re stepping in. What made it worse, is the feeling of claustrophobia and the walls coming closer and closer together as you travel down the already narrow corridor. With one hand holding up the burning torch and the other holding the slime covered wall, you would manage. The hand on the wall keeps you from agreeing with the illusion that your word is closing in.
The screams and cries started then too. As if they knew you were there.. They echoed through off and on the second the large wooden door was pulled open. The cries didn’t seem to be results of any pain being inflicted. Physical pain, anyway. It was pointed out that this place is completely pitch black. It is sealed up and far enough underground that no sound or light from outside will even penetrate it’s walls. If you ever find yourself locked up in one of theKing’s Royal Prison Cells, you’ll enjoy the company of just your own thoughts and the distant screams of others who chose to fight the darkness. They refuse the void.
As the torch shows you the way, it cannot burn bright enough to reveal any end of this long, dark corridor. You assume it goes on forever, because, why not? You stop at the first door and slide the panel open to peek inside. The torch barely does any justice but you manage to see a scrawny man with a long shaggy beard and hair to his shoulders hanging by chain bound hands above his head. Big blue eyes peer up through the straw hair and he can barely speak.
“I… I LOVE you, Doc! I’m sorry, man. Sorry.. I’m sorry. I… I LOVE you, Doc! I’m sorry, man. Sorry. I…---”
The man in the room says the phrase on repeat until the little panel slides shut and we move on. Several steps forward, we come to another door. We slide the panel open and see what looks like a little girl’s bedroom. Judging by the pink curtains and bed sheets, it would be a(n) (un)safe assumption. What actually gave it away was the little girl in a pink dress lying on the bed coloring in a coloring book (yes, in the dark). Your heart begins to melt away as you’re now curious as to why someone so innocent would be locked away in these terrible depths and darkness. You notice her stop coloring and slowly peer up to you in the peephole. Her eyes glow black like a creature of the night and reflect the light you’ve poured into the room. Before you can react (literally a split), she is off the bed and out of sight. Before the signal from your brain reaches your arm then your hand, a little hand has reached through the hole in the door and grabbed you around the neck! You pull away, but it pulls you back in, slamming your face on the door with a loud *THUD*! The impact knocks the torch from your hand and it falls into the mist below. Screams from all over can be heard now.. You reach up and start slamming the little wooden panel on the hand and wrist that has you choking. Finally, after about ten smacks, you are released and fall back and you, yourself, now sit in the mist. Catching your breath you scatter around for the handle of the torch and hold it back up in the air and the screams stop.
You rush over and slam the little peek-a-boo slider shut and further down the hall, you hear a bit of chatter now. Your pace has increased as well as your blood pressure as the time to the next door was about cut in half this time. This door, like all of the others, was a heavy, thick oak with a peephole. Only, this door was wide open. Stopping outside, you begin to peek around the corner and notice a bit of light flickering off the walls inside. You look further and see Sir TK and Sir Bobby Bourbon standing as someone, bitching up a storm (mumbling indecipherables through a mask), wipes cooking oil from their naked body (naked all but a red mask) then begins to slip on a red jumpsuit. Sir TK has a club wrapped in thorns held with both hands ready to batter up. Sir Bobby Bourbon came unarmed and tried to explain the situation.
Look, it was an honest misunderstanding.
The red masked man shakes his head then reaches behind and pretends to pull something out of his naked behind and shows both Bastards his middle finger.
Fuck you, too! Hurry up and get that shit back on. We’ve got better things to do than put up with your shit.
The prisoner (patient) stands up and still has the jumpsuit wrapped around his knees.
Awe c’mon.
Sir Bobby Bourbon shields his eyes with a massive hand from the neck down. Sir TK winds up the thorn covered club anticipating an attack. But the prisoner (patient) just shuffles over to the center of the room and holds out his wrists submissively by the chains that once bound him. At this point, we have slowly stepped out of the room and moved on.
In a room further down into the depths of this place, we find the man of the hour.
After what seemed like forever, hanging in the darkness, alone with no sound or sight… Something finally came to him. A voice.
M…….?
It’s so faint, like a whisper.
M…..? Are you there…..?
With every ounce of strength he has, Mastermind opens his chapped mouth and barely squeaks it out.
Maria….
This is finally it, my friends. My most glorious subjects. My wonderful people. The time has come for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. We are T-minus ONE day away from an event that’s going to blow the tops off your heads and leave you crying for more! Well, crying at least.
You know the day I speak of! The day that I break the hearts of all those who have been waiting for the moment that some goodness can finally come to this most FINE federation. I think it’s been quite some time since the masses have actually been content with a champion to lead them. I’m not sure what everyone thought of the Lacklan, but I know that plenty of folks have not been too convinced with Thaddeus Duke or Chronic Chris Page. I hear the whispers through the halls. My name falls from every mouth in the place over and over and over. But more so now, I’ve been hearing another name being whispered about. Everyone’s hopes are high on this one. Will the Xtreme Champion, the little shag puppet that everyone has been rooting for, defeat the almighty one and claim his place as an immediate threat to ANY champion(s) here? Or will I do exactly what I do and crush those dreams?
We’ve gone over this a bit already, haven’t we? Oh yes.
I think we’ve had quite a large misunderstanding up to this point. I’ve said some things, he’s said some things. What I’ve meant by all of this Corey nonsense, trust, the masses coming after me, is no different than the way I said it. There are no different meanings to the words. There’s no hidden emotions. I know he doesn’t mind playing the victim but that’s not my gig. Same with the lovey-dovey masses nonsense and the dreams and the high hopes and all that happy jazz that he thinks I wish to be part of. I was just pointing out some of the obvious so we have something to go back and forth on. I already get too much attention for my taste and it’s a bit sour these days anyway. See, the attention I get is a little different than what he gets. While some may look forward to a little fight time with this fellow, others that have no real issue just let him be. The KING, on the other hand, constantly walks the halls of this place with a target printed on his back. There was a time I couldn’t walk past Chris Chaos’s locker room without getting speared for no reason. Now that I’ve become King, most things are no different. You have your defiers. You have those who have always stood against you so why would you even expect them to abide or at the very least take a knee and pledge their life to their KING.
Am I angry? Not at all. Am I disappointed? Of course, not. Am I jealous? Huh-uh. Am I looking for a hug? Is he nuts?! Sorry, I answered a question with a stupid question.
I think it’s kind of cute, actually. You know how many times I’ve seen the same thing? Someone comes in, simply plays the cards they are dealt, and beats the house time and time again! They’re on top and have the world around them cheering them on until the house fights back. Demos, Charlie, whatever we call him these days, is a similar story. Look at these two. Both are off their rockers, both came in and took the world by the butthole, it’s just that Charlie’s Demos’s flame maybe glowed twice as bright and burnt half as long. Our friend here has a flame still burnin’ awful bright but all it takes is a cold gust of wind to come in and poof. Make up your mind, right? Am I the fire, the ashtray, or the wind?
Do you know why I’m not angry about my position here? The one that ruins everyone’s day and everyone gets angry because every time I come around I take, take, take? Because I recognize it, friends. It’s a pretty good purpose to have because without me, what measuring stick would you really have? Corey? Maybe. There’s a reason I allowed him to ride in the car with the boy and I through our reign as champions. This poor fellow here, he wanted honesty out of the doctor and I happily obliged. I dunno, maybe I confused honesty with facts. I opened up to him as he did for me and as much of a waste as it was for him I still took in a lot. I see and recognize his pain, his fight, his pride, and how much all of this truly means to him. He’s drowning in a sea of thoughts and questions without answers yet he claims he has control of it all. Like he’s on the outside of the asylum looking in (is that considered a pun?). That’s why he was able to take us on such a wonderful tour through Wonderland like he did. The guy has no recollection of his name or probably anything prior to living between four rubber walls, but he has control. Gotcha.
That’s what is sometimes beautiful about what I do, too. Let them take the driver’s seat for a bit and get a feel for the road. Let them feel the vessel move with a turn of the steering wheel. Allow them this comfort. Allow them to walk in confidently and the second they go to hop over that hurdle, it’s a little higher than they’re used to. He’s been hopping hurdles of all shapes and sizes for months. Big ones, small ones, tall ones, short ones. Another cute and non-cliché thing to bring up. (I know, I know. What else do they have to talk about?) I am no hurdle, though.. There’s no hopping over me. I’m no stepping stone either. If you all want to compare me to anything; I’m the wall. There’s no jumping or hurdling or breaking through this wall. You have to climb, my friends. I’ll admit, I’m not unscalable. It’s not impossible to conquer this mountain. Many have tried, most… Nearly everyone has fallen and failed. This is not Reggie Estrada. This is not Morbid Angel. This is not Atara Themis. This most definitely is not Ash Quinn. And this is most most definitely NOT Robert Main, either. Maybe all that is something we can agree on?
I’ll follow the suit now, too. I’ll agree that I am not the end game boss around here. Sure, why not? But anyone who knows anything knows that the end boss is hardly ever the most difficult. It’s one of those side ones you only go after if you have the balls. It’s that one that surprises you. It’s the one that you go looking for something else and find it and *gasp*. And guess what, you never beat them on the first try. And to make it even better? In this crazy looking hobo’s case, this is old school where there’s no extra lives, no continues. You die? You die. Game Over. Your participation award for the last eleven weeks? Congrats on the High Score, Insert Quarter.
It won’t be any kind of blow for him though. He said it himself, what’s in this for me? This guy has everything on the line and because apparently being able to challenge a champion at any moment any day of the week gives him answers to his ever on-going psycho babble questions. Who’s the green eyed monster here? We’re both in this for (when it comes down to it) same thing. Yes, he has his agenda and I most certainly have mine. But, it’s all coming down to the XWF Xtreme Championship. He asked what was in it for me? Well, becoming a TWO-time KING of the XWF and TWO-time Xtreme Champion within this close a stretch would be quite the feat, am I right? L-O-L. Just another accolade, right? Honestly (here we go again), I’ve already explained why I’m here. And I’ll stand by it to this day and forever. He still thinks it’s some kind of joke that one of my gifts from one of my most beautiful, glorious people became a prop in his worthless, unsolicited, drawn-out, overplayed nonsense with his burnt hand. Now, hold up a second, he’s right. That’s not all that drew out my challenge for this bout. We’ve said we’ve had our eyes on each other. We’ve been eyeing each other up across the dance floor for months so don’t act surprised when you mess up and sooner or later turns into now.
You know, now that I think about it; He is a pretty bad guy. No respect. Disregard to others’ safety. Objection to authority. No knowledge of any kind of fire codes. And if he’s taught us anything lately it’s that this is all about him. I said it from the start and he somehow took offense to it claiming I was taking offense to it. That’s not how I think. I always wasn’t hoping for some feral beast or anything like that coming into this. So.. Oh man. I haven’t been completely honest here. Let me come clean. I haven’t kept an eye on this guy since day one. I lied. It was until lately that I’ve really paid the attention that everyone else has to the fellow. So, I just went off of everyone else’s take on him. All that I’ve caught was the constant nonsense with his woodland creatures(and the only interesting part of that was) so after I found out that he’s just a man just playing with the hand he is dealt and not what everyone said he was, I, myself, was disappointed. He, too, was apparently, but it makes no difference. He’s disappointed that I didn’t play into his lead and jump straight into Neverland with him. Screw his open book and screw his answers. Forget his clarity. Forget his peace of mind. Nevermind about his plans of UNIVERSAL domination with his trusty cow by his side. Expectations are high in this one. Everyone knows my minimum and it’s a lot higher than most maximums. Everyone knows that when I step YOU step aside. Everyone knows that when I say move, you move. Or don’t. I can handle either scenario and that is honesty. That is the truth. Those are facts. Whether he believes it or not I believe I’ve been pretty honest through this. To myself and with him. If he wants this as bad as he says so, he’s going to have to bring everything he has ever had, ever. That’s the pleasure of being where I’m at in this picture. No matter the situation. No matter the time. No matter the place. Along with the pee pants, the marking out, the anticipation… People know if they do not bring their absolute best they stand no chance. I’m curious if this fellow has it in him because regardless of this outcome
Que sera, sera.
there’s a lot to be told here. Regardless of the way this goes opens a door that most have not seen before. I’ve lit the fuse, my friends, let’s see how this blows up. Que sera, sera.
Maria sits in this room. She’s unsure if it’s been for hours or days. There’s no time frame in there. The windows are frosted over, but it is so hot. The clocks have all stopped. The housemaids make their way in at times, but it’s not the housemaids. Something terrible. The lights are always off anyway, all she has done when the mind is right is write in her journal. Some scribbly nonsense. Others, a cry for help. Maybe someone will read her scribblings later or even now somehow. She’s seen stranger things happen. So she writes.
Maria’s Recovered Journal: Part ??
I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve been trapped in here. This is no longer my home. I can feel it. And I know that M had nothing to do with this…. I’m so scared for him. I hope he is safe.
She would write, sleep, cry… It seemed like forever until she thought of something. She rushed to the closet and opened it… There it sat. The Chair of Mastermind.
Could this be what that doctor has been after? He always went weird with M’s things like that mirror…. That damned mirror, she would think to herself. She pulled the chair out from its space and brushed all of the dust from it. She began to rip the plastic that covered it and threw it all aside. She grabbed her journal and began to write.
Maria’s Recovered Journal: Part ??
M…? It’s me. I don’t know if you can hear me. But I’m here. I’m trapped. And I need to know if you’re okay. If you can hear this… Or read this….. Or sense it…. Please…. Give me a sign…..
She sobs and a tear drops on the page. Suddenly... A word begins to write itself.........
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