Post by Sadistic on Mar 12, 2015 23:23:14 GMT -5
Red Sox vs. Yankees. Hatfields vs. McCoys. Axis vs. Allies. Black vs. White. Good vs. Evil. Illuminati vs. Templars.
Call them rivalries. Call them what you will. Those legendary feuds all reside in the shadow of the greatest conflict of them all.
The Black Hand vs. The Order.
The two have existed since the development of intelligent thought. One has schemed to control the people. The other has sought to free them. Oh, their intentions were both good...initially. But ultimate capacity is a remarkable thing and limitless power corrupts. The structure of the Black Hand, while largely unknown, was designed to maintain a balance of power. To keep the good will of the people at the forefront. I wish I could make the same claim about the Order...
Deadly duels, clandestine operations, and behind-the-scenes warfare on a massive scale...these are the things that didn't find a way into your history books or your television screens. But they happened all the same. Gallons of blood absorbed back into the soil from both parties. Conflicts not separated by geographical boundaries or political parties, but entire ideologies. A covert tug of war with the future of mankind hanging in the balance.
In 2014, the battle found its way into Pure Class Wrestling. Murdoc and Eira of the Order were faced with Grimm, Sadistic, and Showtime of the Black Hand. In broad daylight. For the entire world to see. Did the secrecy even matter anymore? All of the shady meetings in the middle of the night...the whispered orders behind closed doors...for what? Information was all over the internet to be had by any curious browser. The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons had only propelled the interest of the masses in their quest to uncover secret societies. And so it was decided to make an adjustment. THE adjustment. The Black Hand would hide right out in the open. Right in front of your face. Rather than operate from the shadows, the Black Hand would attempt to rally the people to the cause.
Or were they attempting to herd the sheep?
Relativity. That's what the headquarters of the Black Hand reminded Sadistic of the most. It was truly like something out of that famous Escher painting. Stairways going this way and that. Doors leading into cellars leading into parks. It was intriguing, alarming, and beautiful all at the same time, but simple words simply couldn't do it justice. Each member of the Hand had a separate path that lead to the heart of the complex. Without a clear set of directions, one would find themselves lost inside of the ingenious construct for all eternity.
Sadistic would have a clear mission placed before him, as would Phinehas and Michael and several of their other Black Hand brethren. While Showtime, Grimm, and Sadistic were veteran and integral cogs of the organization's inner-workings, they each had a higher-up to answer to. They ALL had a higher-up to answer to. That was the beauty of the system. Everybody was held accountable by somebody. Period.
William continued his brisk pace through an archway and found himself in a separate gravity well. His brothers and sisters in the name of cause carried out their tasks diligently. All were dressed in similar garb, but no attention was paid to anyone or anything except their own. With Mass Destruction only days away and an opportunity to destroy a few of the Hand's biggest enemies inside of a cage, surely there would be something extreme planned. The biggest feud in the biggest match on the biggest show of the year, with millions of eyes upon them...surely examples would be made. While they'd managed to sway a small portion of the crowd in their favor over the last several months, the majority of the PCW Faithful still stood behind the opposition.
Reaching his destination, the meeting was short and to the point. Just the way Sadistic liked it. A brief handshake, the details of which I'm not at liberty to describe, and an exchange of words, followed by the delivery of an envelope and Sadistic was on his way out of the mind-boggling labyrinth. He reached a stone staircase and headed down on the upside. Slipping a calloused finger beneath the envelope flap, he tore it open. Unfolding a thick piece of parchment, his anti-freeze green eyes scanned back and forth quickly as he took the stone steps.
Upon reading his instructions, he crushed the note in a clenched fist. A low growl escaped from the depths of his grizzled beard.
“...Eira.”
William stood at a podium, his clenched fists holding the pulpit to the ground. Tall flames consumed the backdrop. The elder Dillinger's long black hair was starting to show signs of age as it snaked across his face and meshed with his wild, bushy beard. As he grinned, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were anything but sincere. And those eyes, green as anti-freeze and just as sweet, yet deadly. The whole setting...the podium, the flames, the congregation...it was all a blatant mockery of Prophet-era Marcus Murdoc.
“Go on. Cheer. Cheer for your band of rebels. You may boo us...for now...but don't let the ominous name fool you, Brothers and Sisters. The Black Hand isn't here to harm you. We're here to help you. To protect you. To...free you. When historians look back on this conflict a decade from now, they will paint the Black Hand as heroes. Saviors! But for now, we'll wear the label of the villain. But a necessary evil? Oh, no!!! For the acts that we'll commit at Mass Destruction will not be acts of evil, no, but acts of salvation!”
Sadistic's eyes dart from one Brother to the next as sweat drips from his brow, causing his long hair to cling to damp skin.
“Whitey Ford! A man so endearing that he's been dubbed “The Asshole.” A man that was unanimously considered the most hated man in the business...until the Black Hand assembled. A man that gives fucks only for himself. The Faithful have decided to cheer for this man for the simple fact that he isn't the Black Hand. Why? Because he's an unreliable partner and ally? Because he opposes President Frank Foley for simply upholding the rules? This is a man who can barely show up to events on time...probably because he can't squeeze it into his busy schedule of drinking and rampant drug use. A man that has no problem swearing in front of children. He is a disgrace to the company and a pathetic excuse for a human being.”
The Phenom chuckles mildly to himself as he produces the PCW World Championship and places it atop the podium.
“The mighty Whitey Ford, arguably one of the most dominant champions in PCW history. Until the Black Hand took his source of power, that is. PCW's king has been reduced to a meager peasant. He competes in matches that Whitey Ford should compete in, and he says things that Whitey Ford would say, but he's not Whitey Ford. Not anymore. He's just a man going through the motions. After Complete Destruction, he'll be an afterthought...”
The sarcastic smile falls from Sadistic's face as he gazes out into the rows of anonymous faces.
“Gem, Gem, Gem...my precious little stone. PCW's little princess has completed her rise to prominence. From humble beginnings to a career-defining submission victory over the reigning World Champion. It was the perfect storybook ending...but it was just that...an ending. The fairytale is over. The Black Hand can appreciate a nice feelgood story as much as the next guy, but Complete Destruction will be a complete dose of reality. All alone there at the top of your mountain...well, you can only imagine how long of a fall awaits you.”
Sadistic digs around in his pocket before producing not one, but TWO sets of police grade handcuffs.
“But I've got something extra special in store for you, Gem. Now that you're right in the center of that big, bright spotlight...hopefully as uncomfortable as possible...I'm going to educate you. Humiliate you. Embarrass you. And...disfigure you.”
Billy bares his teeth. Yellow, crooked, jagged teeth.
“Trapped inside the cage and completely helpless. And I'm gonna sink my teeth into that pretty little face! There's not a damn thing Grant, Father, or anybody else can do about it!”
A look of euphoria has overcome the Phenom as he absentmindedly brushes the hair out of his face. Pacing away from the podium with his fingers laced together behind his back, he gives an occasional sidelong glance to the congregation.
“Last, but certainly not least, my fair-haired darling. Miss Eira. We're destined to hate each other, you and I. This isn't a Black Hand versus the Order thing. This is a “you broke my leg, nearly ended my career, drove off my lover, and destroyed something I can never replace” thing. Of course, the Black Hand will be forced to rid the people of the Order, but this situation between you and I goes much, much deeper.”
Sadistic sympathetically rubs his stomach as the flames dance behind him.
“We've driven away anyone who's ever cared about you. Driven away your friends and allies. Murdoc...gone. Kelli Starr...gone. Andy D...gone. Yet upon your return you've managed to rally together a new band of misfits. Inside of the Complete Destruction cage, are we planning on destroying Eira once and for all?”
Billy stops and ponders for a moment.
“No. On the contrary, I want you to have complete control of your faculties. Upon destroying your partners in a few days time, you will be left with nobody in your corner. Having witnessed the absolute destruction of your partners on two separate occasions, there won't be a single soul willing to come to your aid. And that, Miss Eira...THAT is when the real fun begins.”
Sadistic returns to the podium and clasps his hands together leisurely.
“At Mass Destruction, PCW will herald the misfits that will defy the odds and stand against the unstoppable Black Hand, and OH how the fans will cheer! They will cheer for the trained assassin. They'll cry out in joy for the junky! They will applaud the efforts of a member of the most corrupt organization in the world!"
Go ahead and let that sink in.
"Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. The black knights in shining armor will rid Pure Class Wrestling of evil as you bare witness to COMPLETE DESTRUCTION!”
NEX ADDO
Call them rivalries. Call them what you will. Those legendary feuds all reside in the shadow of the greatest conflict of them all.
The Black Hand vs. The Order.
The two have existed since the development of intelligent thought. One has schemed to control the people. The other has sought to free them. Oh, their intentions were both good...initially. But ultimate capacity is a remarkable thing and limitless power corrupts. The structure of the Black Hand, while largely unknown, was designed to maintain a balance of power. To keep the good will of the people at the forefront. I wish I could make the same claim about the Order...
Deadly duels, clandestine operations, and behind-the-scenes warfare on a massive scale...these are the things that didn't find a way into your history books or your television screens. But they happened all the same. Gallons of blood absorbed back into the soil from both parties. Conflicts not separated by geographical boundaries or political parties, but entire ideologies. A covert tug of war with the future of mankind hanging in the balance.
In 2014, the battle found its way into Pure Class Wrestling. Murdoc and Eira of the Order were faced with Grimm, Sadistic, and Showtime of the Black Hand. In broad daylight. For the entire world to see. Did the secrecy even matter anymore? All of the shady meetings in the middle of the night...the whispered orders behind closed doors...for what? Information was all over the internet to be had by any curious browser. The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons had only propelled the interest of the masses in their quest to uncover secret societies. And so it was decided to make an adjustment. THE adjustment. The Black Hand would hide right out in the open. Right in front of your face. Rather than operate from the shadows, the Black Hand would attempt to rally the people to the cause.
Or were they attempting to herd the sheep?
* * *
Relativity. That's what the headquarters of the Black Hand reminded Sadistic of the most. It was truly like something out of that famous Escher painting. Stairways going this way and that. Doors leading into cellars leading into parks. It was intriguing, alarming, and beautiful all at the same time, but simple words simply couldn't do it justice. Each member of the Hand had a separate path that lead to the heart of the complex. Without a clear set of directions, one would find themselves lost inside of the ingenious construct for all eternity.
Sadistic would have a clear mission placed before him, as would Phinehas and Michael and several of their other Black Hand brethren. While Showtime, Grimm, and Sadistic were veteran and integral cogs of the organization's inner-workings, they each had a higher-up to answer to. They ALL had a higher-up to answer to. That was the beauty of the system. Everybody was held accountable by somebody. Period.
William continued his brisk pace through an archway and found himself in a separate gravity well. His brothers and sisters in the name of cause carried out their tasks diligently. All were dressed in similar garb, but no attention was paid to anyone or anything except their own. With Mass Destruction only days away and an opportunity to destroy a few of the Hand's biggest enemies inside of a cage, surely there would be something extreme planned. The biggest feud in the biggest match on the biggest show of the year, with millions of eyes upon them...surely examples would be made. While they'd managed to sway a small portion of the crowd in their favor over the last several months, the majority of the PCW Faithful still stood behind the opposition.
Reaching his destination, the meeting was short and to the point. Just the way Sadistic liked it. A brief handshake, the details of which I'm not at liberty to describe, and an exchange of words, followed by the delivery of an envelope and Sadistic was on his way out of the mind-boggling labyrinth. He reached a stone staircase and headed down on the upside. Slipping a calloused finger beneath the envelope flap, he tore it open. Unfolding a thick piece of parchment, his anti-freeze green eyes scanned back and forth quickly as he took the stone steps.
Upon reading his instructions, he crushed the note in a clenched fist. A low growl escaped from the depths of his grizzled beard.
“...Eira.”
* * *
William stood at a podium, his clenched fists holding the pulpit to the ground. Tall flames consumed the backdrop. The elder Dillinger's long black hair was starting to show signs of age as it snaked across his face and meshed with his wild, bushy beard. As he grinned, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were anything but sincere. And those eyes, green as anti-freeze and just as sweet, yet deadly. The whole setting...the podium, the flames, the congregation...it was all a blatant mockery of Prophet-era Marcus Murdoc.
“Go on. Cheer. Cheer for your band of rebels. You may boo us...for now...but don't let the ominous name fool you, Brothers and Sisters. The Black Hand isn't here to harm you. We're here to help you. To protect you. To...free you. When historians look back on this conflict a decade from now, they will paint the Black Hand as heroes. Saviors! But for now, we'll wear the label of the villain. But a necessary evil? Oh, no!!! For the acts that we'll commit at Mass Destruction will not be acts of evil, no, but acts of salvation!”
Sadistic's eyes dart from one Brother to the next as sweat drips from his brow, causing his long hair to cling to damp skin.
“Whitey Ford! A man so endearing that he's been dubbed “The Asshole.” A man that was unanimously considered the most hated man in the business...until the Black Hand assembled. A man that gives fucks only for himself. The Faithful have decided to cheer for this man for the simple fact that he isn't the Black Hand. Why? Because he's an unreliable partner and ally? Because he opposes President Frank Foley for simply upholding the rules? This is a man who can barely show up to events on time...probably because he can't squeeze it into his busy schedule of drinking and rampant drug use. A man that has no problem swearing in front of children. He is a disgrace to the company and a pathetic excuse for a human being.”
The Phenom chuckles mildly to himself as he produces the PCW World Championship and places it atop the podium.
“The mighty Whitey Ford, arguably one of the most dominant champions in PCW history. Until the Black Hand took his source of power, that is. PCW's king has been reduced to a meager peasant. He competes in matches that Whitey Ford should compete in, and he says things that Whitey Ford would say, but he's not Whitey Ford. Not anymore. He's just a man going through the motions. After Complete Destruction, he'll be an afterthought...”
The sarcastic smile falls from Sadistic's face as he gazes out into the rows of anonymous faces.
“Gem, Gem, Gem...my precious little stone. PCW's little princess has completed her rise to prominence. From humble beginnings to a career-defining submission victory over the reigning World Champion. It was the perfect storybook ending...but it was just that...an ending. The fairytale is over. The Black Hand can appreciate a nice feelgood story as much as the next guy, but Complete Destruction will be a complete dose of reality. All alone there at the top of your mountain...well, you can only imagine how long of a fall awaits you.”
Sadistic digs around in his pocket before producing not one, but TWO sets of police grade handcuffs.
“But I've got something extra special in store for you, Gem. Now that you're right in the center of that big, bright spotlight...hopefully as uncomfortable as possible...I'm going to educate you. Humiliate you. Embarrass you. And...disfigure you.”
Billy bares his teeth. Yellow, crooked, jagged teeth.
“Trapped inside the cage and completely helpless. And I'm gonna sink my teeth into that pretty little face! There's not a damn thing Grant, Father, or anybody else can do about it!”
A look of euphoria has overcome the Phenom as he absentmindedly brushes the hair out of his face. Pacing away from the podium with his fingers laced together behind his back, he gives an occasional sidelong glance to the congregation.
“Last, but certainly not least, my fair-haired darling. Miss Eira. We're destined to hate each other, you and I. This isn't a Black Hand versus the Order thing. This is a “you broke my leg, nearly ended my career, drove off my lover, and destroyed something I can never replace” thing. Of course, the Black Hand will be forced to rid the people of the Order, but this situation between you and I goes much, much deeper.”
Sadistic sympathetically rubs his stomach as the flames dance behind him.
“We've driven away anyone who's ever cared about you. Driven away your friends and allies. Murdoc...gone. Kelli Starr...gone. Andy D...gone. Yet upon your return you've managed to rally together a new band of misfits. Inside of the Complete Destruction cage, are we planning on destroying Eira once and for all?”
Billy stops and ponders for a moment.
“No. On the contrary, I want you to have complete control of your faculties. Upon destroying your partners in a few days time, you will be left with nobody in your corner. Having witnessed the absolute destruction of your partners on two separate occasions, there won't be a single soul willing to come to your aid. And that, Miss Eira...THAT is when the real fun begins.”
Sadistic returns to the podium and clasps his hands together leisurely.
“At Mass Destruction, PCW will herald the misfits that will defy the odds and stand against the unstoppable Black Hand, and OH how the fans will cheer! They will cheer for the trained assassin. They'll cry out in joy for the junky! They will applaud the efforts of a member of the most corrupt organization in the world!"
Go ahead and let that sink in.
"Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. The black knights in shining armor will rid Pure Class Wrestling of evil as you bare witness to COMPLETE DESTRUCTION!”
NEX ADDO
