MD77: Rush/Sam Smith vs. Black Dragon/???

[Viola Moonlight]

Deadline: Wednesday, 22nd of August (11:59pm Central Time)​

 

[The Crock]

The order of chaos has finally fallen; Burna's apostles have left his side -- the once fearful force is gone. All should be well in WZCW, but another revolution is rising. I sat and waited for months, watching Burna push his apostles into the spotlight -- now, after all he had given them, they had bitten the hand that had fed them. Every great leader runs the risk of such an uprising, this is why you must maintain control. In chaos, there must be order.

WZCW will only fall with controlled chaos; the very chaos that Rush and I will bring. Our motivation is retribution -- retribution for the wrongs committed against us by the feeble-minded, mouth-breathing sycophants that are at the very core of what is wrong with WZCW: the fans.

The frustration was eating at me. As Rush and I sat at a corner table in a seedy bar, I couldn't help but think about Redemption.

I took a swig out of my bottle of beer and looked around the bar -- this was the type of place Black Dragon would fit right in. It was packed with the outsiders of society; deadbeat dads, loners, prostitutes, and tweakers all over the place. In a way, even I felt at home. My skin was tingling just like it always did before I was going to cop some dope -- I knew I could get what I needed from any number of people in this bar, but I refused. I refused, because I knew I had to keep my head clear. I couldn't buy into Black Dragon's mind games.

I leaned back in my chair and spoke.

He's a coward.

Rush looked up.

Who?

Black Dragon. He hides behind that mask, behind his henchman, and -- this week -- his mystery partner.

Rush shook his head at the mention of the mystery partner.

Who do you think it is?

I shrugged.

Could be anybody, man. Could be the porky waitress, the bartender, Ty Burna, Armando Parasyse; I don't have the slightest clue. That's the point, though.

Rush responded, perplexed.

What do you mean, Sam?

Dragon WANTS us to focus on who the mystery opponent is. He wants us to let our guard down, then he'll attack again. We can't let that happen.

Sam, I don't think Dragon is using a mystery opponent as a distraction. That's ridiculous.

I smirked.

But unleashing an army of Black Dragons isn't? You saw what happened at the PPV -- I'm not going to risk that again.

Look, I get it. He got to you, he shook your confidence a little. Still, you need to relax. That attack was meant for me, not you. He's not planning another attack on you.

I raised my hand, signaling the waitress to bring me another beer.

It doesn't matter who it was meant for. He got to us and we didn't expect it. It's our turn, now.

I took a long drink out of the fresh beer, as Rush tried to talk me down.

Think about the ultimate goal. We need to win our match, then we'll go after Dragon, if we can. You can't underestimate him as an opponent; Dragon's one of the best. He got into your head and now he's looking to capitalize in our match. If we beat him and his partner, you'll get into his head. Once the tables are turned, then you can go after your revenge.

I looked down and slowly nodded.

You're right. We need the win.

Rush reached over and patted me on the arm.

You're damn right we do. We're in the main event of Meltdown 77. You know that statement win you keep saying we need? This is it.

Rush stood up and put on his jacket, before dropping a few bucks onto the table.

The beer's on me. Go home and get some sleep, clear your head.

I nodded my head at Rush as he left, then sat at our table finishing what was left of my beer.

Rush was right. He was right about it all. Dragon had broken my confidence, he'd gotten into my head. How could I have let that happen? I had goals of reaching the top of WZCW, of getting even with the fans -- I could never accomplish that, if Dragon could toy with me the way he did. It was on my shoulders to prove myself, to win our match.

I stood up and walked out of the door, running into a fellow bar-goer on the way out.

Sam, right?

I looked at the wiry man, realizing where I knew him from. I'd gone on a week-long bender a few months back and he had been my dealer. I figured he'd lost most of his business once I stopped buying.

The wiry man pulled me into the side alley by the bar.

Looking to score? I've got some on me right now.

My skin started to crawl again. I knew that coming to this bar was a mistake. I started to walk away, but the urge to score pulled me back in. I reached for my wallet, handing him a couple of bills, as he handed me some dope.

I shoved it deep into my pocket, as I walked down the street. I was on top of the Moon, it was a feeling unlike any other. I knew that as soon as I started using, I'd be in that special, place where nobody could touch me. I'd be happy again.

The closer I got to my house, the more I could feel the dope burning a hole in my pocket, the more I started to doubt myself. Was I going to throw it all away again? Was I going to prove the fans right? Was I going to fail, after everything I had promised to bring down on the fans, on WZCW? I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let WZCW, the fans, and Black Dragon ruin my life again.

I pulled the dope out of my pocket, took one last look at it, and tossed it into a dumpster as I walked by. I wasn't going down that path again.​

 

[Muffin Top Merkley]

Panophobia: The vague and persistent fear of the unknown.

Sometimes the fear is small and specific like not being able to swim in deep water due to the uncertainty of what is below. Even the smallest case can prevent a man from living life to the fullest. When he encounters an unfamiliar situation, the fear manifests and hinders his ability to make the right decisions, forcing him to run away and miss the opportunities that would change his life for the better.

But often those who fear the unknown suffer severe cases that prevent them from leaving the safety and comfort of their own house, afraid of what could be waiting outside or what the sunniest of days can bring.

The fear of the unknown can creep into your life through a number of different sources, but by incorporating simple changes in your life, it can be conquered.

The easiest way to fight this fear is to educate yourself about the fear and realise that it is nothing more than a mental obstacle to overcome.

The best way to conqueror panophobia is to face it.


*****************************


[Color=RoyalBlue3]I used to fear death.

The thought of taking my last breath would often be enough to paralyse my body and mind. I couldn’t fathom that my life would someday end, that my body would stop functioning , that I would cease to exist and I would just be gone. To one day lose everything that I’ve fought so hard for and to have all of my thoughts and memories just vanish terrified me to my core.

I would wake up in the middle of the night, drenched with sweat from dreams of my own death, my mind racing and body shaking with reluctance against the implication of death. I would wonder the most mundane detail of my death.

Then at Kingdom Come II, without any warning, I faced death.

It was at Kingdom Come II that I realized that I was never afraid of death, I was afraid of the unknown. How would my death happen? When will it happen? What happens to my body? Will I be drawn into a bright light? Will I be greeted by the family and friends who passed before me when I get to wherever I go? Does dying hurt or will I feel comfort and bathed in a warm serenity? Would anyone care?

Recently, my time in WZCW has been shrouded in the unknown. At Redemption I stepped into the ring against an unknown opponent and then again against an unknown man who hides behind a mask; Black Dragon. Against great odds, I stood against the unknown and successfully walked away still holding the EurAsian Championship after two title defences.

This week at Meltdown, I continue to rise above the unknown when I team with Sam Smith and wrestle Black Dragon and his partner whose identity is just as unknown as Dragon’s.

People hate what is ugly; what is weak. It is a mirror of their own worst fears. A reminder of what awaits us all: Sickness. Frailty. Death. Black Dragon knows he is a mirror for them and that is the reason why he cowers and hides behind a mask. His mask is what garners him support and admiration, without it, the mystery is gone and he becomes exposed for what he truly is: mundane.

Wrestling for thirty plus years has prepared me for every possible situation. No surprise have I not already experienced. No possible outcome I haven’t encountered. Black Dragon understands that which is why week after week he scrambles in an attempt to grow his mysterious aura, depending on it to survive in this world.

The unknown is Black Dragon’s strength.

The unknown is something I control too.

This week, I unveil a new EurAsian Championship from the unknown and in doing so; my status rises above those who have came before me, including Black Dragon. A championship with prestige and honour that I will use to propel me to the top of this company and it is at the top, where my fist will strike down the hardest turning this company into rubble. When the wrestling world screams in horror as tears downpour from the eyes of WZCW fans worldwide, then I will bask in our glory. Every drop of blood that I have spilt building this industry, will be returned to me tenfold and our march to destruction continues until we decide WZCW has suffered enough.

History favours the legend, not the man.

Soon, there will be no question who is legend and who has paid the ultimate price at the hands of Rush and Sam Smith.

​

[/COLOR]

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon

~ Chapter 27 – Burning Bridges ~​

“What the hell was that Hano?”

“What?”

“The contract.”

“I will not take his charity.”

“Charity? Chris is doing the right thing for once.”

“Chris?”

“Sam Masters, whatever. There was no reason for you to do that.”

“There was every reason for me to do that.”

“Then explain.”

Where to begin. The beginning perhaps.

***​

“Dragon I presume?”

Foreign entities trying to exist in our world never fail to amuse me. They cling to outmoded practice and etiquette even under the strangest circumstances. One would struggle to envision a circumstance where the suit across from me could be confused about who he is talking to, but he clings to his training like a life raft.

“What do you think?”

He gives a taciturn little cough and shuffles his papers, holding them in front of him like a shield. He signed up to be a contract lawyer because the hours were good and there was no heavy lifting, but suddenly it's going to be difficult.

“Take a seat.”

I sit.

“The door is closed, would you care to remove that mask?”

Ahh, not a wrestling fan then.

“What do you think?”

I don't know the man. Muse tells me that he's harmless, but harmless men are often enlisted to carry dangerous cargo. Besides; diving providence or no, I have a reputation to maintain. This will not be accomplished by cutting well meaning but utterly spineless legal clerks a break.

“So Mr... I'm sorry, I don't really know how to address you?”

I stay silent. Once again that little cough, once again the papers thrust forward into the void.

“Well anyway” he continues, “doubtless you can guess why you're here.”

Of course I can.

“No. Enlighten me.”

“Well,” he begins, revealed, hoping to escape into the warm embrace of legal terminology, “as you are doubtless aware, you're contract status has been something of a minefield recently. In confidence I can't begin to speculate what Vance Bateman was thinking, but he had you working with no insurance, no benefits and no job security. We saw first hand how the later could be a problem during the Ty Burna fiasco.”

He keeps talking. To offer a translation for readers uncomfortable with euphemism – 'we know you were working for our company illegally, and that after you were removed you broke even more laws, however we now think that we can make money off of you so we are going to offer a convenient lie that makes none of this your fault'. I've met this kind of lawyer before. Little men, bereft of power who turn words into weapons. They sing a cheerful song of lies and double talk and expect you to dance along. The rat piper plays his tune and leads the rats to drown in deep water; the lawyer spins a web of words to trap you, then leaves you to rot.

“Obviously a state of affairs where you could be treated like you were previously is unacceptable for all concerned which is why Mr Masters; that's probably Chris KO to you, has instructed me to draw up what we feel is a very generous contract for you. This will ensure your continued presence in the federation, as well as, we hope, considerably improving your standard of living and furnishing you with safeguards against illness or injury.”

Fascinating. The way he sells it a man would have to be stupid not to sign this magical document. I reach into a pocked and withdraw a cigarette. The nicotine addiction is burning out like a fading star, but there is still some life to be sucked out of these cylinders. The lawyer frowns, I can see the words 'public building' and 'can't smoke in here' queueing up behind his teeth, but he has the sense to grit them and force a smile.

The public building is an unfortunate necessity. As has been remarked before by numerous parties, I'm not an easy man to find. The lawyers solution; to simply announce the meeting publicly and hope that I showed up. Dodging the people and press that invariably congregated around the area did not put me in the best of moods.

“There are one or two minor details that we need to cover before you can sign.”

“Imagine my surprise.”

“Oh it's nothing strenuous, but it would help us a great deal if you would give us a name; we have to have your party listed as something in order to make things legal.”

I stay silent, fortunately the man can take a hint.

“Mr Masters did warn me of this eventuality, and I've come up with a rather neat little solution.” The lawyer smiles that special little smile of those who rape the rule of law and then stop to admire their handiwork. “What we can do you see, instead of contracting you directly, is to sign an agreement with a corporation that we establish through a proxy firm. WZCW pays them in order to provide talent and they provide you. Of course in reality this second company consists exclusively of you, and the only talent you need provide is yourself, but it's a neat little way of getting money to you without having to worry about names. If you'll take a word of free advice, it will also leave you in a rather enviable position vis a vis income tax; or corporation tax as it would be in your case. We as WZCW and our associated companies are happy to handle all of the paperwork, all we would need for you to provide in a signature.”

It's amazing that the diminutive little man before me contained enough air inside of him to deliver that mind numbing speech in its entirety, but I assure you that he did.

“It sounds like you've thought of everything.” I say.

“I certainly hope so,” the man beams, “Mr Masters also instructed me to tell you that he wishes for the Eurasian title situation to be swiftly rectified promptly upon ratification of the contract. It is hoped that the situation should be resolved no later than Apocalypse.”

“Mr Masters certainly seems to be being very helpful.”

“Indeed.” The man's response is laced with caution, the sarcasm in my tone must have finally found it's way to his brain.

“Did you know Mr Masters once concussed me?”

“I... I was not aware of that no. Obviously the physical nature of the profession...”

“Oh this wasn't a professional occasion. There was no match, he simple elected to strike me from behind with the title he is now being so very helpful with.”

“He did?”

“Oh yes. This was just before I dropped his head from sixteen feet though a circuit board. He was serving as Ty Burna's boot boy at the time. Do you remember Ty Burna? I suspect you worked for him as well.”

“Well obviously the ongoing nature of my employment coupled with the volatile nature of...”

I no longer wish to listen to this man's words. I interrupt him.

“The king is dead, long live the king.”

“What?” He asks, confused.

“One king falls, a new king rises and nothing changes. You're still here, I'm still here, Ty Burna has been replaced by Ty Burna's boot boy and we all begin again. Revolutions always come round again, that's why their called revolutions.”

“I'm not sure I follow.”

“No, I wouldn't expect that you would.”

I exhale deeply. The man leans back on his chair in a futile attempt to avoid the smoke. As he feared he has become adrift in a sea of wrestling, but he strikes out desperately for the shore.

“If we could perhaps get back to the matter at hand?”

“And what would that be?” I ask, unhelpful as ever.

“Your... your contract. Like I said all that is required from you at this time is a signature.”

I reach across the table and claim the proffered papers. I glance through them, more out of a casual curiosity than any concern at the wording. I have little doubt that either Masters or the wretched creature across from me will have laid some trap of terminology, but I do not intent for it to become my problem. The prizes promised do indeed appear to be there. Stability, longevity, a pile of cash the likes of which I've never seen. Who'd have thought that beating people senseless could be such a profitable activity. Trap or no trap, the papers I hold will provide for Muse and me for as long as we desire. I'm not just holding a career in my hands, I'm holding a future. I've never had a future before. I draw deeply on my cigarette, puffing on the embers until the tip is an inferno. Then I take the glowing cylinder and casually apply it to the front page of the contract.

“What the fuck are you doing!”

The flame spreads quickly, jumping from page to page in an instant until the entire document is a blazing tempest. Gritting my teeth I reach down and let my fingers close around the flame, gripping the blackening paper and raising it from the desk to hold it in front of the lawyer's gaping mouth. The pain in unbelievable as fire assaults my flesh, but the trick is not to mind that it hurts. Slowly, my eyes locked on those of the man across from me, I close my fist. Blacked paper crumbles and falls away leaving nothing of the future that could have been mine.

“Are you fucking insane!?”

Casually I reach my still smoking hand inside my coat and withdraw another cigarette. Pressing the tip to a still glowing ember on the desk I light up, then walk calmly out of the door and away from what might have been.

***​

“That's not a reason Hano.”

Muse was unimpressed. Not really about the contract, more about me fucking my hand up in the name of proving a point to an irrelevant who I shall probably never see again. And she's pretty annoyed about the contract.

“Do you want to know what I think?” She asks.

“Yes.”

“I think it's pride and nothing more. I don't think you mistrust Masters at all, I think you're just too proud to accept his aid. He was pond scum, you'll hear no argument from me, but it seems like he's legitimately trying to turn his life around. Isn't that exactly the kind of change you got into this to try and accomplish?”

“I got into this to facilitate vengeance, not reform.”

“Reform is the ultimate vengeance Hano. Nerve damage may heal in time, but the knowledge of what he did will stay with him for a lifetime.”

“A fair point.”

“And another th... wait... what?”

“I said a fair point.”

“You agree?”

“Yes.”

Muse stops and thinks.

“Then you don't think Chris is truly reformed?” She questions.

I shrug.

“I have no idea what is running through his head.”

“So you think he might have changed?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Then why, for the love of God, are you refusing to take assistance from him.”

I smile.

“Three weeks.”

“What?” Muse asks.

“Three weeks. Then you'll have your answer.”

“Why...”

“I have a few things to take care of first.”

And with that I rise from my seat, withdraw my hand from the bowl of soothing cream Muse proved and draw myself upright. I lean in and, for the first time ever, press my lips softly to Muse's cheek, and then make my way towards the door.

Muse will have her answer, and it's a happier answer than this story perhaps deserves, but first there are one of two loose ends that must be tied.

***​

“Good evening Hano.”

“Good evening.”

It's the old man who tells stories again; somehow I knew it would be.

“What brings you to our happy little world of slumber tonight?”

“I'm ready to end this.”​