03/03/2021
XWF Storage Warehouse

The scene opens in an extremely cramped room with minimal lighting. A maskless Demos is sitting on the ground hunched over, his entire head and most of his neck touching the somewhat translucent ceiling. Metal rods and framing stretch across the entirety of the room, holding the ceiling up. Due to the strands of light peeking through the ceiling two white socks are visible on the floor. One of the socks has been colored purple at the top with a marker. The other sock seems to have a fair bit of blood and dirt trapped in it’s fibers.

Did you bring me any birthday gifts?

Demos silently nods at their response. He bites his lip and looks down in disappointment. A few seconds pass before he sighs and looks back to the socks on the concrete flooring.

That’s ok. I’m just glad you two were able to make it. I heard traffic was bad on the freeway, some sort of major wreck. Apparently some satanic sex trafficking cult got ran down by a group of semi truck drivers….you two wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?

Demos sighs in relief as he nods his head at the socks.

Good, good. Of course not. You’re good noodles!

Especially you, Marf.

Demos pokes the dirty sock with a giggle before retracting his slimy finger.

You’re a good sport, you know. I’m glad you decided to come.

I thought you were going to be mad at me for what I did. But you understand! When we saw each other in the locker room after your match with Betsy, I thought for sure you’d raise your voice at me and try your luck at shouting down the Demos. I thought you’d have fists ready to fly at my face when you saw me. I thought your rage would overtake you and lead you spiraling headfirst into a conflict you weren’t prepared for….

But you were such a fine gent’! You just complimented my dolphin shampoo and grabbed yourself a handful of the good stuff when we crossed paths backstage.

You understand!

You know that I only did what had to be done to preserve the integrity of the tournament. The wretched presence of the Left Hand could not be allowed to fester inside the march of madness. Could you imagine, a sycophant strengthening himself to devour the souls of the meek as he quickly climbs the ranks, earning major win after major win? Oh no no no no. That would have been….

Demos’ neck cranked to the side as Demos stared off into the distance. The man’s facial features slowly contorted to neutrality. A few moments of silence passed. The ceiling suddenly trembled as something banged against it.

Terrible.

Demos blinks a few times before turning to face the socks once more with a smile on his unwashed face. His gaze drifts upon the sock that has been partially colored purple.

Lycana. As beautiful as ever.

Demos did a symbolic hat tip with his non-existent fedora.

There are a lot of rumors swirling around that pretty little frame of yours. They say you’re a tinder box ready to ignite at any moment. The waterboys backstage choke on their words as they sing your praises. They say you’ve got a mean streak and that your pretty face is a lure, another tool in your arsenal that you use to catch your prey. They say your heart is black, that you have been made as evil as they come.

But you came to my birthday party. So I know those things aren’t true.

You too were nice to me when we met backstage. You didn’t care at all that I cost your compatriot his shot at greatness. You didn’t bat an eye at my interference in the Left Hand’s affairs. You, too, just wanted to trade playful barbs with the whyte spyder.

If you were truly a violent madwoman we should fear, surely you would have acted differently. Surely you would have taken a tire iron to my skull and left a lug nut sized hole in my head. If you were really what they say you are, I’d have pink slime oozing out of my skull right now. Instead, I’m here at my birthday party, talking to you two!

Like old friends.

Demos smiles warmly at the two socks stuck in the cramped space with him.

You two have made quite the waves these last few months. But now that the wind has come out of your sails, you come to meet the Demos.

Where is your brave leader? The man you claim to fight for? The Baphomet has never wrestled in a sanctioned match….he doesn’t have a single win to his claim. What makes you follow him like little ducklings?

The two of you seem like nice young upstarts. Ready to make your mark, ready to take the world on. Why hitch yourself to a wagon with no wheels? A violent, sadistic wagon at that.

What is driving you to make these poor decisions for yourself?

Demos listened closely to what the socks had to say. He shook his head from side to side before turning his gaze back to Marf.

It’s okay, little buddy. Not every wrestler is meant to be a star. Some of us just go in and out of the locker room for a few months before we fade back to the indies. That’s ok. Mediocrity is nothing to be ashamed of, Marf. So what if you don’t have any major wins? So what if you come up short in every somewhat meaningful match you have? At least you tried. You give it your best, and that’s all anyone expects of you. You don’t have to degrade yourself, drag yourself through the muck with the demons and devils of the world. You don’t belong alongside the wretched, Marf. You’re a nice young man. You’ve always treated me well, even after I put you in the dirt and cost you your biggest match to date. The Left Hand isn’t going to raise your stock one bit, Marf. I would never allow it. You’d be better off going out on your own terms.

Demos nods at the Marf sock as he lets the sock soak up all the wisdom. He turns to the sock colored with a marker. He listens closely for a few seconds before interjecting once more.

No no no, Lycana. The Baphomet will not make you his queen. He is nothing but a shadow on the wall. You’re chasing smoke from the ashes of an ember that burned out long ago. Open your eyes! Since you joined this sadistic sect you’ve done nothing but lose match after match. Are you blinded by the backhanded praise? Deaf to what they all say about you behind your back?

‘Oh that bright haired harlot: she sure can work! She’s so great! What a match!’

Don’t you know why they say that? All the boys in the back? Don’t you know why they talk about you that way?

Demos waited for a few moments. He looked at the colored sock, cocking his head to the left as he anticipated a response. None came.

It’s only because they like to see you on your back!

Demos chuckled as he shook his head.

They love seeing you prance around that ring, bouncing off the ropes, your body jiggling up and down as you run between the posts.

They’re not impressed by your skill. They’re not praising you for technical prowess.

How can you be so blind? So gullible? So naive?

Demos chided the marked sock as he clicked his tongue at it. His gaze shifted to the space between the two socks.

You two have fallen into a deep slumber. You walk around with your eyes shut, chasing the dream of being a big time XWF superstar. But alas, poor Dissentients, your dreams have turned into a nightmare. Your chaotic quest to wreak havoc has come to an end. If you two can not open your eyes and see for yourself the deep waters you have wandered into, I will have no choice but to drag you down to the bottom and force you to reckon with the water rushing into your lungs. Your minds have been corrupted, turned vile from the heat and the pressure of the XWF. But do not harbor fear, my sweethearts.

The Demos will awaken you.