OOC: Thad Duke's text is in blue instead of his usual yellow cuz Corey's yellow :p

Now

Thaddeus Duke mounts the cascading steps leading to the front door of what was once Dyson Manor. His finger stabs the door bell, and you can hear an ornate chime resound inside. Thad pulls his long coat closer about him as the night chill sets in, waiting for a response from within. But after a minute or so, no one answers. Thad tries to look through the door, but the glass is frosted. He tries the doorbell again, and again another minute or so passes. How big IS this place? Thad muses aloud as he shoots Corey a text.



Thad quirks an eyebrow but ultimately drops the phone into his pocket and heads around back. It’s quite a walk circumventing the massive house, but Thad finally reaches the back patio where he spots this in the distance.



Huh. Thad once again muses aloud as he makes his way to the tent. He raps on the nylon fabric of the door and soon thereafter, Corey sticks his head out.

You made it! Come on in! He backs away from the door, allowing Thad to crouch down and get in. Inside, the tent is warmly lit by a lantern, and there is indeed a small heater on the floor as well. A sleeping bag is also within, along with a litany of snacks and their sundry wrappers. Thad sits Indian style on the ground as he drinks it all in.

Well this is….something.

Yeah, it’s pretty rad, right? Look I even got comics! Corey pulls out a stack of comics and holds them aloft proudly before dumping them back down atop the sleeping bag. And all kinds of snacks! It’s like Boy Scout camp, minus that one creepy Scout Master who always wanted to help tie your swim trunks


Thad sizes Corey up, noting that he’s wearing some dark circles under his eyes and has a slight pallor to his skin. How long do you plan to sleep out here?

Oh, I dunno…. Corey looks around, and then, with a coy smile and a faux seductive look he pats the sleeping bag. If you get chilly we can spoon. I call big spoon.

There is no way you’re the big spoon. He scoffs. But seriously….you okay?

Not…..really. Corey looks like he was about to tell a lie, but finally decides on sighing out the word “really”.

I kinda gathered.

What was your first clue?

The voicemail you left me that said, and I quote, “This house is full of Lovecraftian Horrors that want to devour my soul.” He gestures at Corey’s face. Plus you look like a shit that got run over by the shit truck.

Corey’s eyes narrow. Oh yeah? Well...well…..you’re a free credit report.

Thad chuckles. Oh, we’re doing this? Fine. You’re a thinly sliced deli meat.

You’re a planned obsolescence.

That’s not even a….nevermind. You’re a dog eared copy of a titty magazine.

You’re a thumb drive full of questionable pornography.

You’re an expired Shake and Steak coupon.

You’re a….a….Corey’s eyes flutter. Shit!

Thad raises his hands in triumph. WINNAH! Then, with a more serious mien. But, now that we’re past the “Corey’s got jokes to hide his anxiety” portion, would you PLEASE tell me what’s going on.

Corey’s expression grows more dour. He looks about the tent, circumspect about not meeting his friend’s inquiring gaze. Eventually, he looks at Thad, somewhat defeated. There’s something wrong with the house. Or wrong with me. Or….I dunno….

Okay….

I’m seeing….things....in there. Like, fucked up things.

Thad cants his head. Like, what?

Things I shouldn’t still be seeing. He speaks the words almost impulsively, then, looking a bit evasive, Did you know Madison kept Nazi shit in there?

Hardly surprising.

I found little kid shoes. Baby shoes. Like, remember in history class when they showed those pictures from the Holocaust of people’s stuff dumped in piles before they were gassed?

Jesus. Thad scowls and shakes his head. That’s….pretty fucked. So what are you saying then? Like, the place has some bad mojo or something?

The house does. Or...I do.

I’m not following.

Corey pulls his legs up and under his chin, suddenly looking very childlike. What if The Engineer’s not gone, and all this weird stuff that’s happening in the house is him trying to drive me crazy? To wear me down again to take over?

Corey, we’ve been over this. He looks at his friend plaintively. He’s gone. Even Do-

Corey throws his hand up. Don’t….I can’t even with that right now.

Thad looks at Corey, but now a smattering of suspicion joins his plaintive concern. You never told me what happened with that.

Just...forget it. Okay? Please?

The near desperation in Corey’s voice lowers Thad’s defenses. Ok….fine. *Sigh* You can’t just stay out here in this tent forever though. Why don’t you come stay with me?

Ehhh…..you got the kid. And the army.

You’re not an imposition on me.

He smirks. You’ll grow to hate me bumming around on your couch.

The only thing that will get me to “little H” “hate” you is you elimating yourself to give me the win in the battle royale.

Will it end our friendship if I do that?

Thad narrows his eyes at Corey. …..no. But I will be very upset that you pissed away months of PT to hand me the win.

If it even comes down to that. You and me, in the end.

I think there’s a damn good chance it comes down to that. ‘Sides Doc, and Robbie, and maybe a couple others, I’m not real impressed with the line up in this thing.

Tell me about it. There’s a chode load of shitheels in this rumble. Like….ehhhh, not right now….

Thad leans over and smacks Corey in the shoulder. Come ooooooon…..

I’m not really in the mood.

Oh bullshit! It’ll make you feel better, and I KNOW you got something to say.

Thad finally drags another smile out of Corey. Yeah! About YOU! You contaminated bottle of diarrhea pills!

Okay, we’re not doing THAT again.

No, we aren’t. But you are right. I do have something to say. Corey looks right at the camera. Red Rover, Red Rover….send discount Jim Jones over! Yes, folks, step right up for the greatest High Stakes spectacle yet, wherein I go full James Evans poopy diaper on Witness and devote a WHOLE TRASH TALK TO JUST ONE GUY!

Thad gasps sarcastically. You...you can’t!

I sure can. Especially when someone gives themselves as much rope to hang themselves as he did. But also, my poopy diaper is a metaphor for wanting to kick the chair out from under this “credibility suicide”, unlike James Evans’ poopy diaper, which happened because he was massively triggered by some 10 megaton truth bombs.

So Witness, for a guy who said he was afraid of missing the mark, you went ahead and did just that with a finesse so fine it almost seems intentional. But it wasn’t. Because you are a very, very dumb cult leader.

RACIST?! Corey calls out incredulously. He looks back at Thad, who just shrugs and makes a funny face.

RACIST?! Really?! Even the people who hate me, or who hated The Engineer, would never call either of us racist, because simply put, it is demonstrably untrue. Hell, The Engineer FUCKED A BLACK GUY. With MY body! Which is something I’m still trying to wrap my head around. The dude sex part, not the black part, incidentally.

Fuckin’ RACIST, man. Yeah, I bet you thought you had a real masterstroke there. I bet you saw The Engineer and Madison standing side by side and thought I caught racism by osmosis or some shit. Oh and hey buddy, did you catch the part in my previous promo where I burned a whole bunch of Nazi shit and Madison’s portrait? I musta did that because of how much I love unironically waving around Confederate flag.

God you are seriously the stupidest cult leader of all time! And let that be a lesson for the rest of you newbies out there, if you’re gonna “research the opposition” maybe don’t watch just five minutes of a six month old promo and call it a day to spend the rest of your time jerking yourself off over your own pseudo-philsophical crapulence.

But yes Witness, yes. If there is ANY takeaway you can get from my promos thus far, it is that I am absolutely DEVASTATED to be without my Fascist armpiece. Whose portrait I burned. Or that I feel so so scared and alone and sad because I’m not a cynical prick like The Engineer anymore. Even though literally ALL of my promo work thus far has been about me not wanting to have anything to do with him.

Boy, you sure hit the nail on the head.

Corey leans in, dropping his voice to a whisper.

So, Witness, you know how you’re supposed to be like this divine warrior leading your flock to Nirvana, or Heaven, or even the nearest Redbox where you can check out movies with actual interesting cults in them like Midsommar….

Or Children of the Corn…..

Or The Wicker Man (Nicholas Cage version, if you please)....

ARRGHHH BEES! *Ahem* Or The Ritual?

Ohhhh, obscure! Or Rosemary’s Baby? Or hell just any movie about a cult whatsoever?

A pause.

What was I saying?

“Divine Warrior”

Oh, right! Yeah, so you’re supposed to be this divine warrior, wizened and strong. Sure to win this war against, whatever you want to win this war against, that part’s still pretty unclear. But...But! Don’t successful warriors usually know SOMETHING about their enemies?

Moreover, don’t wise and insightful cul-er, “movement” leaders typically have the smarts to not make catastrophic miscalculations about their enemies?

Let me lay it out for you like this. You literally know nothing about me. And I’m not saying that because this is me cutting a promo so I have to be contrarian. I am saying it because it is 100% factual that you understand jack shit about Corey Smith. You think I still WANT to be The Engineer? You think I still WANT Madison Dyson hanging around? He shakes his head mournfully. Nah, man. Nah. Because that, THAT right there was when I was at my most hollow, to use your phrase.

I’m not perfect. Far from it. Real far from it. But I’m trying to be better. And I’m leagues above a guy like you, another fly by night wannabe prophet taking advantage of desperate people. And to those people, you may want to seriously reassess who you’re hanging out in dark basements with. Or at the very least, don’t drink the purple drank.

Corey lets all that simmer for a bit before turning to Thad.

I lied.

Thad again gasps melodramtically. But….you….you can’t!

I did. Because there’s somebody else I need to talk to. And this time, it’s because he was right.

Alias.

Corey claps his hands together. It’s official. You’re not making the list. Don’t get me wrong, you’re crazier than a shithouse rat, but a douchebag you are not. No….no...you...are….not.

Corey suddenly looks pensive. His gaze flicks towards the floor. His entire demeanor changes. Even Thad notices and starts to lean in.

Are you okay?

But Corey just keeps right on rolling. You’re right, man. The “child abuse” jab was a low blow. I said I’m tryin’ to be better. But I’m really not there yet. The way he speaks that last sentence implies there’s something else there going unsaid. He smothers it before speaking again.

I’m not throwing barbs at just anyone. My barbs have been razor sharp, pun intended. So you WERE wrong about that. I have been specifically targeting the bastards who have no business being near the Universal Championship. Guys like DeVille, basically the devil incarnate, or Evans, who has channeled a lifetime of pain into being another stock entitled jerkoff. Guys like Witness, who preys on the desperate, or Page, a shameless egomaniac clutching onto the memory of better days. Then, as an afterthought. Or guys like Michael Graves. Ew. He lets a small smile drop at that. But it’s fleeting.

I’m in this match, in part, to STOP guys like that from getting anywhere near The Universal Championship. But even more than that, I’m still not sure I deserve it either. The Engineer was a monster I’m still atoning for. Which is why I’ve said that if comes down to it, I’m stepping aside for Thad. He holds a hand up as Thad opens his mouth. Please…. Thad closes his mouth reluctantly and looks awkwardly aside.

And incidentally Alias, you’re wrong about Thad. He has to make...difficult….decisions sometimes. He’s got a healthy ego too. And I’m sure he wouldn’t deny it. Corey swallows deep. But he’s a beautiful human being. You weren’t there. You didn’t see it. But my God, I….I couldn’t even piss on my own….I was so helpless. I WAS scared then. Really scared. Corey catches an errant tear as it runs down his chin. Thad was there for me. He cared about me more than anyone else. I know he loves me and that he has my back. He’s true. He’s honest. And he has a good heart.

Thad looks back at Corey, his own face threatening emotion.

He deserves to be Universal Champion. And in the mean time, maybe one day I’ll be worthy of it too.

Thad claps Corey on the shoulder, smiling wistfully at him. Thank you.

You’re welcome. Corey sniffs and then pulls on a smile. Now let’s make like Bert and Ernie.

Huh?



Through the magic of television, Thad sees the picture of Bert and Ernie that just appeared. Oh hell!

Corey dives on Thad, threatening to pepper him with kisses as Thad holds him at bay, fighting him off. But let’s be real, he’s not fighting THAT hard.

The Previous Day

Corey’s head slowly sunk beneath the warm waters, and eyes closed, he let that calming heat saturate him and take him back to better, more sensible days. It was a memory from his childhood, a pond, two cousins splashing each other, giggling and jostling with each other in competition to create the biggest wave. Corey remembered letting that commotion fade behind him as his eyes lingered on the summer sun dancing off the rivulets at the surface. Entranced by it’s simple, gentle beauty. Ignoring everything else around him like it didn’t matter.

Corey relaxed under the waters of the expansive spa like tub, allowing his muscles to mellow as a reward for the workout he had just put them through. A bubble escaped past his lips and he opened his eyes, looking skyward in preparation to come up for air.

He screamed reflexively at what he saw, drawing water into his mouth and immediately starting to choke as the hand plunged beneath the surface, threading dead fingers into his hair and holding him under. It was Madison. Her exact features were obscured by the thrashing in the water, further distorting her face. But he knew it was her. Grabbing her arm, he tried to fight to bring himself up, into the air, into safety. Blood started to dot the water then, but not his own. It was dark sickly blood pouring from the gunshot wound in her forehead, carving patterns of crimson before his panicked eyes. Corey screamed, unleashing a torrent of bubbles as his lungs burned and buckled.

And then she was just gone. Corey breached the surface, beholden to sheer panic as he was birthed from the tub and onto the chill of the linoleum. His stomach bucked as he vomited out all the water he had swallowed. Finally, lungs clear, he began taking in ragged breaths as his mind fought to conform what had just transpired into some approximation of rationality.

Unsteady with weakness and fear, Corey rose to his feet. He turned towards the bathroom mirror, and a shuddering gasp escaped him then.

.

exe .exe .exe .exe .exe .exe .exe
.exe .exe .exe .exe .exe .exe
.exe .exe .exe .exe .exe .exe
.exe .exe .exe .exe .exe

The mark of The Engineer was written in the steam on the glass. Unthinkingly, he slapped his palm on the mirror and ran it across the moisture, obliterating the words on it until he was all that was left. Staring back at himself, eyes rimmed with a primal fear, Corey clutched the counter top to steady himself. And then, his left ear started to hiss, and burn, as though someone was breathing fire into it.

You are what I made you.

The words hissed into his ear from the ether, from nothingness. He let out a low sob as he sank to his knees, lost, dazed, and confused; deep down inside wondering if this would ever truly be over.