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Cassadaga
..:: This story, is true. ::.. Sunday, February 1st, 2009 “Cassadaga, oh yeah, that’s where you’re going to find the center of energy”' She says in an enthusiastic tone, as if I've just made her entire day. Although her exuberance annoys me, I am also pleased that my calculations were correct. Cassadaga is the destination. This is where I’ll get my answers. “Are you planning on taking anyone with you, sir?” She asks me and the obvious answer comes out of my mouth faster than I'd like. “No one.” I say and in retrospect, that answer sounds awkward. She pauses for a moment before responding. I hold the telephone against my right ear and wait for her to break the silence. I’d much rather like to end this conversation as I’ve exhumed all of the information I need out of her. “I might suggest you take someone you trust sir, someone who can be there for you as many people who travel to Cassadaga have very emotional experiences. It can lead you down a dark path. Having someone their to prop you up in a time of desperation may be a good idea.” She says but the last time I checked, I wasn't calling for advice. I was calling for information. “I have no one. And trust me, I’ll be fine.” I say, with an eagerness to end this trivial conversation. “Be careful. Mr…uh? I’m sorry, I never got your name.” She says and I think for a moment about responding and telling her what they call me. But instead I go the route of all annoyed men. I hang up the phone without even the faintest retort. My fingers tap on the wooden surface where my cell phone now rests. I sit, wondering, prophesizing and plotting, all within a few seconds. What I plan to do and what I've gone on to do have always been exactly the same and that doesn't change any time soon. I snatch my phone up from the table and begin to pace around the room. The thoughts of my spiritual path and the actions that took place at Tournament to the title, with Sam being hung at the hands of my brother running through my mind and although there are many other things I should do, I feel the need to check on my most prized possession. I move across the room and into my bedroom. On the way I come to a very sudden realization. If my goal is to make the believers become realizers, I may not be able to do it alone. Unlike some false prophets, I don't want to be the only one to take the credit when I am praised for my vision. I believe in sharing the glory. In my room, I cross the threshold and I slowly drop to my knees and lift up a small rug. Underneath, I reach into a hole in my floor and remove an old cigar box which has the initials ‘JS’ carved into the woodgrain. I lay the box on the floor and slowly open it, seeing the stacks of money within it. I am no slave to the all mighty dollar but I am a realist. I know that money is what makes the world rotate, and in order to achieve my goals, I need the required amount. But this money in this box, this is my ticket to spiritual completion. This is the ticket to my answers. This is my ticket, to Cassadaga. Monday, February 2nd, 2009 I am watching the late night replay of Tournament to the Title. The light from my television set illuminates my living room as I sit and watch it, studying it. On the screen, watching Tails hang Samantha, watching him being rewarded with the Heavyweight championship. Watching as the news breaks that Tails can‘t compete due to a nagging injury. I saw no injury. I saw fear and I saw a brother running away from responsibilities. Sam was sitting next to me with her head on my shoulder she was released with the scars of the rope burnt into her skin. But as soon as the image shows her being hung, she could not watch any longer. Her reaction makes me wonder if she can handle what is still yet to come. “How could you let them do that to me?” She asks, and I’m slightly annoyed. I told her of my intentions before this even happened and she simply told me to do what I thought was best. But now, I realize that she was just playing the supportive counterpart role. “I’ve told you before Sam, I never wanted you to get hurt, that’s why I’ve pulled your manager application out of NLWF. Your no longer my manager. Your no longer going to be apart of NLWF. And as for him…” I point at the screen, where a image of my brother is seen “Hurt or not, I will do what is necessary.” I state and Sam pauses, not really knowing how to respond to that. Maybe she’s me as a Hitler-esque individual, (because we all know he probably said that very same thing on more than one occasion) but she is expendable if she can’t see the vision through the crimson sea of blood. “Whatever you think John, but I can’t watch anymore if this trend will continue.” She tells me, as if that's really a big problem for me. I’m not someone like the old me who needs everyone from his family to sit and watch him do adolescent things to no name opponents. “If I continue what I've started, you can’t watch?” I ask her half-heartedly, but she can't tell and I don't think she realizes how very little she means to me at this very moment. She didn‘t die from the public hanging but to me she was dead. The pain of watching her hanging above the ring was to much for me to bare. And It changed me. “No.” “You're going to miss one hell of a career then.” I tell her and she looks so devastated, so hurt, so…pitiful. At that very moment my cell phone begins ringing. I look down at the sub-LCD screen to see the name ‘BLOCKED CALL’ pop up. I stare at Sam, answering it. “I was wondering when you were going to call. Everything is falling into place perfectly.” I say and if this was anyone else on the other end of this conversation, they’d be taken back by my lack of greeting, but not this person. He understands who I am. And what I am capable of doing. “I’d say so. I’d hoped for a bit more blood this time, but…” He says and pauses for just a second. By this time, Sam has removed herself from my couch and gone into the bedroom with footsteps full of woman rage. “…but as close to perfect as anything gets, yes.” “There will be plenty of time for more blood my friend.” I reassure him, the two of us with waves of satisfaction in our voices. It couldn’t have gone any better, it’d couldn’t have sent the message any clearer. “People will be talking about it at the very least once it airs, so I’d say that our first mission was a great success.” I tell him and I firmly believe that we are in everyone’s minds and on their radar as a violent force, rising. “Yea, and on a night so full of surprises, too. I was almost worried this would have never been a reachable goal almost as if we are going to be overlooked.” I agree with a chuckle and am reminded of the drunken, idiotic droves that pack the Seattle Washington every Sunday. “Oh yes, the appealing nature of drinking your insides dry, all while watching men fight each other tooth and nail is something most of them can’t refuse.” I hear the man on the other line laugh on the other end of the line. That’s why this partnership works, the two of us have so much hate within us and we have similar yet different minds on most subjects. And the element of surprise will makes our job easier.” He says and I'm glad he sees this as a job. Because that’s the way it should be viewed. This is a quest that was set upon us by some omnipresent force which I will never call God. I’ll call it, an awakening, once I’ve gathered more information. But I know that this is my duty. “Exactly correct. And it continues this week, after what we discussed last night, even more jaws will hit the floor. They aren’t ready brody, none of them are ready.” The conviction of my voice is not lost on either of us, we know that we are doing what needs to be done, the world needs terror in the way of there heroes. “No one who isn’t at the center of the storm is ever ready for a revolution. They just get caught in the ensuing chaos…and if they were ready, where would the fun in that be?” I snicker. “Yes, this week. They think that the New Design is the pinnacle of dissention-causing terror…they haven’t seen anything yet.” “Very true. I told them all that Tails was no prophet, no messiah for them to follow. But they blindly followed him, like sheep to the inevitable slaughter. And now, NLWF has no leader for the fans to latch on to. NLWF is in a state of disarray” 
Alright so Tournament to the Title didn’t end the way I may have wanted it to. Am I disappointed from the lose to Cyber Punk. Of Course I am. But am I bitter about the lose? Never. Cyber Punk was ready, he took his game to the next level and if there was anything I wanted to accomplish it would have been getting Cyber Punk to the level of being a future Hall of famer. Mission Accomplish But the highlight of my night, passing the torch down to Cyber Punk was almost placed into the shadow of what my own brother. My wife’s brother in law did to Samantha dead center of the ring. He hung her 10 feet over the ring, in a attempt at her life. He saw the line of fantasy wrestling and he crossed it. But he wasn’t ready for the reaction to his actions. As of last night a press conference was held by Silva announcing Tails being injured. Stunned much? So is everyone else. I watched Tournament to the title, I watch his handicap tag-team victory over Bart Bloodstone. Fucker was barely in the ring, there is no way he injured himself during that brawl. Then I watched his actions that unfolded all through the show and he did NOTHING that would even equal a injury. Nothing that would even allow him to clam injury. For crying out load, Jackson had his arm broke and still left as the North American Champion, and he is STILL ON THE ACTIVE LIST!!! So why isn’t Tails fighting through the injury? FEAR He understands that there is a backlash coming his way. He understands that his actions at Tournament to the title warrants a act of vendetta from a man who has nothing to lose. He believes if he takes a few weeks off, it will be enough time for his actions to be forgotten. But the image of Sam being hung is forever burnt into my mind. The mother of my unborn children being hung has changed me for the worse. Tails isn’t safe because of his injury. In fact it’s the total opposite. He has just placed a target on his back. He has just made this a game of cat and mouse. And the hunt has begun! And during the wake of the hunt, I’m still very active in No Limits Wrestling Federation and instead of getting my revenge on Tails personal Anal plug Frank Hart I now get the honor of picking apart the leader of the Asylum. Havoc is almost in the same boat as Tails. You see Havoc and Cipher made a move on Carmine and instead of a job well done. They attacked Carmine’s wife Jessica. You can only believe there will be a reaction from the home of Carmine. Maybe that’s the reason you replaced Frank, Havoc. Your being punish and the message is loud and clear. I am out to destroy the weak links of NLWF and it's just a matter of time until everyone sees that. Havoc you and Tails may get kicks out of attacking harmless women, but you have to understand behind these women, there is a determined fighter. I will tear this company down, brick by brick and make this place into a apocalyptic wasteland to make sure the garbage, talent less hacks like yourself Havoc are removed Like it or not. Tell me, Havoc, how does it feel to be a worthless champion? Tell me how does it feel to have a championship handed to you rather then winning it? Does it give you a sense of power? Does it make you feel untouchable? Does it make you seem like you have a shred of talent? Believe me, Havoc, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re definitely not fooling me. I know you’re absolute garbage. So drop don‘t brag about being the Tag-Team champion because you didn‘t win those championships, they were handed to you. Did you believe I should respect you because you were handed gold? You formed you team last night, how the hell does that make you a legit team? I’ll wait for smoke screen of garbage to clear so you can see all the dead bodies resting between you and me. Then you can truly look into the face of a real champion. You can truly look into the eyes of a man who doesn’t need to have championships handed to him. You don’t have the class to be a champion. You don’t have the swagger to be a champion. You see me? These sunglasses cost me two thousand dollars. Do you even make that per appearance? Have you ever seen two thousand dollars in your life? I didn’t think so. Havoc, what you’re going against isn’t anyone in the mid card you’re used to. I’m not Crazerage. This isn’t the kind of match where you walk in and think you’re going to win. This isn’t the kind of competitor who will just let you mow over them. You know what this is? This is death. This is the black plague. This… is godless. Are you ready for this Havoc? You can grasp onto your freedom but in a dictatorship you have no freedom. You can hold that freedom close to your heart before our match but when you enter that ring all your freedoms are gone. They become my freedoms and I’ll do whatever I wish with them. I’ll stop them to the ground, throw them around the ring, and even eat them. Your freedoms no longer exist in reality. That is where you will fail. See, Havoc, you live in the place below me. That place consists of people who think they can run free. The people think that their lives are perfect but there are two people sitting on a perch casting a dark shadow over them. See, Havoc, we’re vicious. We’re malicious. We’re evil. So as we look down on you thinking you have your ‘freedom’ the two of us know the reality. We know that if you ever saw the faces of the dictators your freedoms would be gone. So what do you do? You twist your freedom because you know it’s limited. I really didn’t want to face the likes of you because, let’s face it, compared to me you’re scum. You’re just another peasant trying to create a buzz and get attention. Well, Havoc, you caught my attention. You’re going to be saying, after you bleed from the mouth, that you should have never gotten my attention. You’ll wish you still had the freedom to twist your false reality. You’ll reach out for it but I will be there stepping on your fingers and breaking them with the slightest of pressure. Then, tell me Havoc, will it be so easy then? Will it be easy to witness your ‘freedom’ being destroyed? Will it be easy to stomach the fact that in reality the only people walking out under their own volition will be the villains? Will it be easy to accept defeat? So keep that little detail in the back of your head, Havoc. Keep the fact that when you enter the ring with me you’re facing the Czar. Keep the fact that after the match you’ll be lying on your back the victim of the brutal gunshot wound to the head. I’ll put the gun right to your temple and put it through your skull. The blood will squirt from both sides and land on my face. I’ll find it… amusing, really. I’m a sick bastard Havoc. That’s why I’m unstoppable. I don’t have remorse when it comes to what I do. I have no remorse when it comes to laying out the bodies. I have no remorse taking the freedom from the peasants. You know what I do to people trying to express their freedoms? I exterminate them. Call it The End Result. So proclaim you’re the villain, Havoc. Proclaim you’re going to be the one to stop SBK from being the godless hero NLWF needs just like everyone else. I know your type Havoc, you talk a big game but when you’re in the ring you freeze. You stutter step and I take advantage of it. You slow down while I speed up. You’re two steps behind me and then I’ll do it again like nigga backwards. I’ll be the hero your mom warned you about. I’ll be your gift, your curse, your excellence, and your execution. You’ll see why they call me SBK. You’ll see why I am the uncrowned NLWF Hall of Famer. In the end, Havoc, you might have your ‘freedom’ your handed Tag Team championship but in reality your freedoms just like your championship mean nothing. Then I will throw your deceased body over the cliff and show all the peasants what will happen when you try and be the Villain against the hero. You will be the perfect example. And it will be oh-so easy. - - FIN - - |