THEN
THEN

The sky had opened up and let slip a torrent of rainfall on the cityscape. A cityscape, that here on high, on this particular night, resembled no less than the raised bayonets of an untold and heartless militia ready for war. It was easy to see things in these terms, for it to seem as though the world was against you. Because on this night the love of Corey Smith’s life was teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Pan stood at the building’s edge, now sodden and worn sneakers the only paltry thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

Pan, the eponymous Peter Pan of legend, the boy who would never grow old. And for as few years as he could count, it seemed a great honor that he had spent one of them with Corey Smith. But Corey didn’t feel honored by the legend’s attentions. Instead, he felt horribly, hideously guilty. Because if Pan had never met him, he wouldn’t be here, toying with suicide. He wouldn’t be afflicted with the same kind of malignant artificial intelligence that had once afflicted Corey.

The cold hard truth of the matter was that if Pan had never met Corey, he would still have his smile.

Corey held out a hand, stark against the night. Please Pan, just step away from the edge.

Pan’s tears were lost against the multitudes of rain drops. His face pinched in existential agony as he struggled to form words. I…..oh God….Corey….

It’s easy, love. It’s easy. Just walk towards me. Corey tried to keep the plaintiveness out of his voice. Tried to keep an even keel, to be the rock that Pan needed right now all the while hoping Pan didn’t crash into him and be torn asunder.

But you know it’s not easy!

Corey winced. It had been a poor choice of words.

You’re right, Pan. I’m sorry. I know that burden. You know I do! But it can be defeated! We can remove it and you can be free of it!

Pan’s face turned back towards the abyss. Maybe. But it’ll never undo all the horrible things it made me do.

Corey felt that too. The multitudes of evils that had been committed in his name by The Engineer were an ever present sore on his psyche. Pan was right. That hurt never went away.

You’re right, Pan. We can’t change things. Even though you weren’t responsible for them. It still hurts. Because you’re a good person. But you have an advantage I didn’t have. You have me. We have EACH OTHER. Corey allowed the plaintiveness into his voice. Please, for the love of God just step away from the edge.

I…I can’t live with it…

You CAN! You’re so much stronger than me!

And there was a moment, a cruel horrible moment where maybe it looked like Pan had accepted Corey’s words. A flash of insight. A willingness to be benevolent towards himself despite his multitude of perceived sins.

It was only a moment.

I’m sorry Corey. I love you.

Pan stepped back off the ledge. The night swallowed him. And the boy who could fly chose to fall. 

NOW (Immediately following the events of May Flowers)

Corey took some petty solace in the fact that a hard rain was now cascading down on the XWF producers invading his home. They were huddled inside one of the greenhouses, and even from his place in the main house, he could see them pondering over schematics for the May Day 3 set.

The rain. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed to be making the place where his ribs had stitched themselves back together itch. The worst of the bruising doled out by Madison Dyson’s heavies had long since faded, but the psychic wounds remained. Madison Dyson had made him feel helpless all over again. Exactly as helpless as he had been made to feel on that rooftop not even two months before she had captured him.

And now they were partners. “BFF’s”

Fuck ‘sakes.

The arrangement that Lux and Dolly had made with Madison to free Corey, and return Lux to a living body once again, had been obviously agreeable to Corey at the time. But the sting of what Dolly and Madison’s relationship had developed into was ever present. He hadn’t expected that. That betrayal. That loss. And now, with May Day right around the bend, and Dolly’s wreckless machinations inserting themselves into Corey’s life yet again, the possibility of forgiveness was growing ever more remote.

You weren’t fair to her.

The voice drew Corey out of his rumination. It was Lux. Naturally. The other half of the equation. The other friend who had spent recent months cozying up to Madison Dyson.

I overheard the call. You weren’t fair to Dolly.

Corey didn’t turn to look at her, instead focusing on the entreating branches of the trees as they were pelted by the rain.

What wasn’t fair about it? Corey replied cooly.

Lux stayed in the door frame, leaning against it and hugging her chest with her arms.

She has no control over May Day this time.

No. She ceded control of it because she didn’t read the fine print. As wreckless as ever.

Lux stormed up to Corey, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. He whipped around now, coming face to face with his former mentor.

Do we need to hash something out?

Corey snorted derisvely. It’s been a long time coming.

Say what you need to say. Lux demanded.

Corey smiled mirthlessly and looked to the side before retraining his gaze on Lux. You’re making her too dangerous, Lux. I mean, did I seriously watch her beat fucking BRYCE? BRYCE?! That guy’s a world class athlete! The old Madison Dyson, the one I knew, wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell! What are you DOING?!

Lux paused for a moment before replying, trying to draw in some calm in the face of Corey’s accusations. I’m keeping Madison right where I want her. Directly in my field of vision. “Keep your enemies closer”, Corey.

I’m surprised you still even count her as an enemy what with all this training your lavishing on her! Has it ever occurred to you as you “keep her close” that you’er sharpening her into a deadly weapon? I mean, what…what the fuck are you doing?! He repeated, nearly at a loss for words through his frustration.

What would you have me do instead? Lux questioned, her tenor bordering on exhaustion.

What would I have you do? Your OBJECTIVE, Lux! Corey hesitated before continuing. Kill her.

You have the audacity to preach to me about MY mission?! Like I forgot it?! Lux started to walk away from him, fuming, before snapping back around. I made an agreement with Dolly….

Well Dolly’s wrong too! Corey bit back with a roar that seemed to startle Lux. Her eyes widened, and then her features settled into something stony and impassive before she stormed out of the room.

Corey didn’t give chase. He wouldn’t relinquish that power back to her. Instead, he returned his attention to the beleaguered producers and the pouring rain. But that was just a distraction. Because within the recesses of his mind, those two formative words rang like a dolorous bell.

Kill her.

Corey had tried to do exactly that himself and ultimately failed what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Kill her.

But beneath those words, something more was underwritten. Something deeper and unremitting.

Kill her.

…..

Is this what I am?


I pity you.

And it's not just because you're the kind of emotionally arrested edge lord who peaked in pre pubescence the day you stumbled upon your older brother’s Mudvayne albums.

Although you are THAT.

No, it’s because, God help me, I understand how easy it is to be stuck in the trap of being YOU. To give in to the nihilism and misanthropy. To be a bit of seething white hot rage all the time.

Let’s drop the clocks back.

The summer of 2023.

I was riding high as the Universal Champion. But, as it goes, someone was not happy about that. And that someone was our resident No Good Bastard himself Thunder Knuckles. And you see, Bobby Bourbon? That man will deny it up and down, but he’s got a shred of honor to him.

TK on the other hand? Pure strain scum. In fact, give him a ring Matt, I’m sure you two would get along swimmingly.

Anyway, TK could have done anything to get my attention….to get a match. Smacked me upside the head with a chair. Trashed my car. Filled my underwear with fire ants. Anything. But you know what he did?

He targetted the commune. He targetted the people I swore to protect.

He set FIRE to OUR HOME.

I….I snapped.

I fell.

I became YOU before there was a YOU to become.

And like a man possessed, all I could think about was HURTING Thunder Knuckles. All I could conceive of was making him SUFFER. I let my rage make me empty to the point that I forgot the very people I was avenging. 

I crafted this….abortion….of a match. A match designed to drag us both into the depths of suffering and humiliation. And, rightfully so, I lost my Universal Championship in that match.

To this day, I am deeply embarrassed and ashamed of that match, and how emblematic it was of the fact that I let Thunder Knuckles turn me stone cold DEAD inside.

So there you have it, Matt. For a brief period in my life, I was just like you. And hell, I’m not gonna front. I still struggle with those baser urges. I still want to put my hands around Madison Dyson’s throat and squeeze on the daily. I still despise Thunder Knuckles for what he did.

But that’s where the similarities end, Matt.

Because unlike you, I have more than one gear.

I think people, by and large, are worthy of protecting. I think there is an inherent value in most people. And I want to do right by them. Genuinely. Not just gather up the used and abused to further use and abuse them like you did in your last promo.

I want to do right.

I want to rise above those baser urges.

I want to be something better than the junky 17 year old I used to be who threw his life away because he didn’t yet understand what it was worth.

Yeah, Matt. That’s the dividing line.

And I know what you must be thinking. How nauseating I must be to you. How egotistitical. Because your blinders literally won’t let you see me any other way.

Corey pauses.

I asked for this match.

And not because I thought it would be easy. Although someone could logically make that assumption. Because I did the homework. Throughout your vaunted Revolution title reign, you lost six times. And boy oh boy did one hell of a pattern emerge. Because you see Matt, while you handled the Summer Page’s and Mr. Oz’s of the world splendidly, you hit the fucking wall when it came to the REAL heat. Ned Kaye. Game Girl. Johnny Bacchus. King Kieran. To say nothing of the fact that you needed Madison fucking Dyson of all people to get you within even a sniff of winning War Games.

Suffice it to say Matt, you put the MID in MID-CARD.

So no, your many mediocrities are not the reason I asked for this match.

I said at the top of the hour that I pitied you. And while that’s not quite the reason either, it swings closer.

You see Matt, maybe you dont see it. Maybe you’re oblivious. But in securing this match I’ve put you into a kind of existential checkmate. Me? I don’t need to win this match. I’ve proven myself over and over again. I don’t need the clout.

But you? Hooooo boy, is THAT a different story.

You need this win, Matty. Direly. DESPERATELY.

Like I said before, when it comes to big money matches, you’ve always fallen short. And forgive me for permitting myself a bit of ego, but this certainly counts as a big money match. I think even you would agree with that assessment.

And here’s the thing. The real pisser, Matt.

You’re gonna lose this one too.

Now you might be asking yourself how I can possibly be that confident. And if you are, shame on you for not paying attention. Because I’ve literally spent the last ten goddamn minutes spelling it out for you. You’re a consummate choke artist. For all the bile you like to spew, for all that bone breaking, blood spilling largesse of imagery you heap on us, it’s a total shit shoot whether you back it up. And while my own record, like everyone elses, is not flawless, it’s certainly more consistent and more prolific than anything you’ve accomplished.

Let me brass tacks it for you. Do you think anyone is expecting the guy who beat the best wrestler in the fucking world in Alias, to lose to the likes of Matthias Syn?

No, no one is expecting that. Literally no one.

So you’re going to lose. That much is set in stone.

But remember what I said about that existential checkmate?

Here’s where I throw you a bone.

This loss is going to force you to make a choice, Matt. You can either keep doing what you’re doing, this…this unrelenting meat headed cynicism….or you can take a chance on learning something. You can get better. You can BE better. You can embrace a complete paradigm shift, accept that maybe you DON’T know everything, and that everything and everyone is NOT somehow beneath you (despite reams of evidence to the contrary)....

…and you can join us here, in the human race.

And if and when you are ready to join the rest of us as an unfettered, whole ass human being, there might even be a place here for you at the commune. Because Corey Smith knows a hell of a lot about sucking at life and struggling mightily to get better at it. I get you, Matthias.

I GET you.

Corey extends a hand towards the camera.

All you have to do is stop being afraid. Drop the pretensions. Drop that calloused shell.

And get WHOLE.

I’ll be seeing you soon. And hopefully, I’ll be seeing you again soon after that.

Later days, Matthias.