"Leave It Two Beavers"

I've done so many bad things in my life. Caused pain and suffering to many...I never wanted that. It was just what I did, what I was made to do...but then it became who I was. I tried to love them, my surrogate family, my friends.

Wade looks up from his notebook, his hand clenched red tight around the skinny pencil, before biting down and finishing his thought.

But I know now that would never be enough.

There will be days when you're forced to make decisions that affect the lives of everyone you know and make choices that will change you forever. You reach a point in your life where you realize that being a man isn't about respect or strength, it's about being aware of all the things you touch. Children face inward, wallow in their own selfish needs. Men face out, take action on the needs of others. I want to be at that point, but I'm not sure if I'm wired in a way that can be fixed. The only thing I can do is try...try as hard as I can, and hope that eventually I become the man that I want to be.

Come with me, Wade Moor. Wherever the hell you are.

Dustin clears his throat, bringing Wade out of his euphoric stupor. Wade tilts his head towards Dustin, who's behind the wheel of the WINO-bago. Dustin loved to drive, lead the charge. Wade never looked at Dustin the way he had before it was just the two of them traveling together. He felt like a different person all together then when they were in #BeachKrew.

Wade Moor: What's up, Dusty?

Dustin seemed hesitant to continue...he seemed to be mulling over some thoughts in his head.

Dustin Beaver: I know I'm probably beating a dead horse here...but I need to know...what the hell happened out there with Mercury? You looked like you were about to kill him, and then kill me for tryna' stop you fam. I just...I don't know what that's all about.

Wade's head dropped a little and his heart sunk into his stomach. He knew this conversation was coming again...he didn't necessarily give Beaver the answer he wanted after the match. In fact, he had a hard time wrapping his own head around such a horrible thought. When he had his hands on Mercury...

Wade Moor: It's hard to explain, brother.

Dustin's glare continued.

Dustin Beaver: Well, you have to try. This thing we got goin', bro? It's strong, but any cracks in our armor and our opponents will strike. You and I? We have to be on the exact same page, man, or else we're cooked. We can't have that with this Tag Team title match coming up...

Wade sighed, cracked his shoulder blades into place, and exhaled.

Wade Moor: I had my hands on Mercury, kuh. I wanted to tear him to pieces, beat him within an inch of his life, Dustin. I saw the way he looked at me, the way they still look at me. They don't see a man trying his best to change who he is at his rotten core...they still see the same drug addled, violent beast that used to run rampant over an entire roster. I felt that old familiar sting, brother...and I wanted someone to pay for it in blood. Why should I be treated differently than anyone else? Because I don't fit rigid societal standards of beauty and class? Sorry, I was raised in a fucking swamp by an abusive dad, an absent mother, and my serial killer brother who tried to murder me. All things considered? I think I'm doing pretty fucking good.

Dustin seemed taken aback by Wade's sudden outburst, never fully knowing the extent of the trauma his brother had endured in his life. He scratched the back of his head and rustled his hair over the side of his face.

Dustin Beaver: I never knew ma...

Wade cut him off.

Wade Moor: You're right! You don't know! Never fucking bothered to ask, did you?!

Dustin's hands gripped the steering wheel tight.

Dustin Beaver: Look man, I'm sorry. You had it rough, and your life has taken a toll on you that I can't even completely comprehend...but you came to me, brother. You reached out to me, and all I'm trying to do is help you...but you have to meet me halfway, Wade. Help me, help you. If you won't listen to me, then what exactly are we doing here?

Wade turned away from Dustin and gazed out the window. He kept replaying the memory of last Sunday over and over in his mind's eye...he watched himself take a hold of a beaten Mercury, crush his knee into his face. He was ready to bring his fist down endlessly and send Mercury off to the darkness. He tried to recall the emotions he felt in the moment...

But none seemed to come.

He chased after the moment, but it continued to slip through his metaphorical fingers. As it danced off into the back of his mind, the inclination to continue after it seemed to recede. He couldn't callback the emotions...and after a minute, it dawned on him that there weren't any to begin with. His disposition to rip Mercury's arm off and beat him to death with it seemed only that. It didn't seem to matter, now. Why? Why in the moment was it so important to him?

He tried to pull the memory again from the back of his mind...but something else came this time. It started in a haze, cloudy edges as the sound of a broken television hummed in the ether. Wade's eyes drifted into the back of his head as the memory (dream?) started to take form...


As he came to in the WINO-bago, a spot of drool running down the side of his face where his head touched the window. He huffed to life, wiping the side of his face on his shirt as he sat up. He looked around, accessing his surroundings. The Bago was stopped outside of a small house on a quiet suburban street.

Dustin Beaver: We're here, brother. Are you ready for this?

Wade knew exactly where he was, where he requested Dustin take him this week. They were outside of Beaver's parents house, a place Wade never thought he would step foot in. He gave Dustin a reason for why he wanted to visit them, some “people who shaped you into the man you became” nonsense, but Wade had his own selfish reasons for wanting to come here.

Dustin Beaver: We don't have to do this, you know? It's ok...

Wade looked at Dustin quizzically, his eyebrow cocked to the side of his face.

Wade Moor: I want to do this...but I can tell that you don't​? What's wrong, Dustin?

Dustin kind of shifted in his seat, looking to bounce around the question.

Wade Moor: Hey, you can tell me bro.

It was Dustin's turn to sigh as he answered the question.

Dustin Beaver: It's just...my parents are kind of embarrassing, man. I'm sorry, dude, but they're a boring ass old couple, fuh real, fam. They'll probably talk about how cold it is in the winter all night.

The thought made Wade smile for the first time all day. The thought of the mundane seemed to light something deep inside of him, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Wade Moor: NEVER apologize for your parents, Dustin. You spend your whole life worried about that man, and you'll end up like me...

Dustin seemed to chew the thought over in his head for a minute before replying.

Dustin Beaver: I guess, that wouldn't be half bad then. Could do without the beard, though.

Wade laughed and slapped Dustin on the arm before they climbed out of the WINO-bago...and stopped for a minute in his tracks. He had just felt a genuine closeness, a true bond with Dustin beginning to form...

Perhaps this trip wouldn't be so mundane after all?

The two walked up to the house, but before Dustin could knock on the door – which was mostly covered by some seasonal summer wreath – Wade stopped him.

Wade Moor: Hey man...in the Bago and all, bro...Uh, I'm sorry about that.

Dustin laughed this time.

Dustin Beaver: No worries, fam. Brothers fight sometimes. Water under the bridge, all that shit.

Dustin smiled and turned back to the door, knocking as loud as he could directly in the center.

Dustin Beaver: Kind of old as hell, can barely hear the door kno...

The door swung open before Dustin could finish the sentence and an older gal with peppery white hair threw her arms around Dustin's neck as violent and matronly as she could in the same action. Wade could only assume that was Henrietta, Dustin's mother, seventy thousand years old but who's counting. An older bespectacled gentlemen stood behind her, his eyes locked on Wade's with curious intent. Wade eyed Bob for a moment before turning back to Henrietta and Dustin locked in their furious embrace.

Henrietta Beaver: Dustin, my...

Wade's vision clouded again for a moment and again he was back at the warm hearth.


He snapped back to the moment with Dustin and Henrietta.

Henrietta Beaver: ...much!

Dustin's face went beet red and he receded almost back into the childhood version of himself. His shoulders clenched up to his jaw as his arms went slack at his side, his mother refusing to break the hug. Dustin awkwardly smiled at Wade as Bob moved towards Henrietta.

Bob Beaver: Please, Henrietta, let the boy breathe now.

Bob laughed from his gut and Wade couldn't help but smile at the three of them. Henrietta finally released the hug, albeit through Bob physically pulling her away. Dustin shook his torso and fixed his shirt before giving his father a firm hug. Henrietta turned towards Wade with a smile beaming from ear to ear.

Henrietta Beaver: Oh! And who's this handsome young man, then?

Dustin put his hand on Wade's shoulder.

Dustin Beaver: This is probably my best friend in the entire world, mom. His name is Wade Moor.

Wade held out his hand to shake Henrietta's, but she was around his neck with a hug almost fiercer than the one she wrapped around Dustin's. She squeezed him in her motherly arms...


And he was back at the door frame with Dustin and his parents. Wade lifted his own arms and wrapped them around Henrietta's delicate frame, his head melting into her shoulder from a comfort he hadn't felt in a lifetime. A tear rolled down his cheek as he held the embrace, holding it as long as he could. He quickly wiped the tear away before pulling away and holding his hand out towards Bob, who shook it firmly.

Henrietta Beaver: Well come in, come in, please! Christ, it should be getting cold soon again, right? I feel like Summer only started!

Dustin smiled and looked out of his peripherals towards Wade, who smiled back. The four of them crossed the threshold and entered the house.


The gentle beep of a camera recording starts as the screen zooms in on Wade Moor standing next to Dustin Beaver in a room filled with posters, trophies, shelves of video games, a television set, a decent bed...all of the things that Wade never had growing up. He didn't look on them with envy anymore, he looked on them with a hopefulness he hadn't felt in a long time. He walked around the room, delicately running his hand across all of the things, a sense of longing still hanging over his head.

Wade Moor: This is the room of a child who was shown love and compassion when he was growing up, basic decencies that I was denied when I was young. Instead, I was given beatings for horrible reasons my tiny mind couldn't wrap itself around. I was starved, emotionally scarred for the way I looked, dressed...you name it, I have probably endured it.

There are probably some people out there that would have risen up out of those conditions, but I spent so much time in the darkness that I couldn't see anything but. I had so much hate in my heart for everyone who was given everything they ever wanted that it became the only thing I knew. I only wanted to cause these people pain, and I saw professional wrestling as the best outlet for that violent intent.

I first stepped foot into a squared circle in the WCF, where I cheated to win my first match against the one I was indoctrinated to hate the most, Crow McMorris. In that moment, I had never been more proud of myself, and I realize now that it was the start of a very slippery slope. Why earn anything when I could just TAKE it? Why win a championship when I could just STEAL it?

I nurtured myself to believe that a bad person and a good champion could be one in the same, that it was what it took to hold onto anything I ever had. Violence, hate, anger...they were what drove me, but I'm slowly starting to realize, day by day...that the only place those feelings will drive you is a place you never want to be. It's lonely, dark...cold.

Wade shudders as he thinks on it.

Wade Moor: But I'm crawling out of that place, slowly. I'm fighting my way out of it. It tries to pull me back every second of every day, but I'm not going to let it. The only thing I want in my future is a life I can be proud of, leave behind a legacy that every one who knows of it can be proud of, thankful for even. I'll have detractors and challenges along the way...but I say bring them on. Allow me to test the strength in my resolve, I welcome it. This week, I step into the ring with someone I know very well, and someone I've never had the pleasure of meeting. Allow me to re-introduce myself...Wade Moor, the biggest challenge you'll face yet.

Bonnie Blue...it's been a minute, hasn't it? I'm sure you knew the minute you saw my name across the card from yours that you had your hands full this week, didn't you? Hey, I can't blame you. I'm sure you were preparing your Twitter responses very carefully, considering I can systematically pick apart every word you say and make YOU look like a terrible person. That was one of my many gifts, given to me by the darkness.

Playing the victim is always so easy, but of course, you probably know that too. Nobody is better at it than you, but I don't mean that as a sleight. It's a nice parlor trick, used to throw your opponents off, get inside their heads before the match even begins. You play the victim...but I know just how dangerous you can be. You didn't win that belt around your waist based on your gorgeous face, no. You have to climb in that ring, just as we do, and hammer your opponents, just as we do. You probably have it ten times harder than us because of what you were born with between your legs. I say, that's not your fault, and it's definitely not your problem.

It's true, I have misogynistic thoughts because of complicated relationship with my mother. You don't have to be a therapist to fucking see that. The women was weak, bless her. When my father was kicking my brother and I through the fucking wall, she couldn't do anything to help...and for the longest time, I believed it was because she WOULDN'T do anything. I was just a little kid. Nobody should have to go feel that way, especially somebody so young.

My own vision of myself became warped...I thought I did something to deserve such a cruel life. Was I some kind of monster, Bonnie? Just what in the hell was wrong with me that my father decided to test the strength of a door by hurling me head first into it? My body was so small, my mind smaller...what did I do to deserve that?

Wade stops for a moment, the memories becoming too painful to recall.

Wade Moor: Do you want to know why I allowed Oblivion to join #BeachKrew, Bonnie? It wasn't some mad desire to have control of such a powerful creature in the Monster...it was so I could look at IT and maybe, feel fucking normal for once in my life. Having IT around was alright at first. IT distracted me from my own pain, for a moment.

Every minute IT lingered though, it was like staring into a mirror, only I was the reflection. IT was no Monster. IT was a joke, one that had gone on for far too long. I was always the Monster, Bonnie. That was a very harsh reality to deal with, coming face to face with your own psychosis like that. Can you, for once in your life, imagine what it's like to be me? Or are you too high up on your broom to be down in the trenches that long?

It's cold, it's dirty...but at the same time, it's refreshing. It gives you a larger perspective on life and just how easy you might have it. I'm not saying you're NOT having a hard time, but girl, it could be much, much worse. That's an eye-opening revelation, right there. So next time someone tells you you'll never make it because of what ya' were born with, tell them to shove it up their fucking ass or you'll do it for them. That's an honest truth, Bonnie. Nobody you know would be so honest with you. Trust me when I say that.

Another honest truth? Dustin and I will walk away with those Tag Team Championships, or at the very least, giving you the absolutely hardest fight of your life. Nothing you ever encounter will be as difficult as leaving the ring with those Tag Team Championships still clasped firmly around your waists, I promise you.

You think I don't know what it takes to be a champion, Bonnie? I may have lost the World Championship, but what I gained was far more invaluable. Insight, Bonnie, and the secrets it keeps. I know more now than I ever would have believed to be true back then, and that makes me a very formidable opponent and a dead lock to walk away with those belts.

You think Dustin doesn't know what it takes? This man, my brother, held a near record setting Television Championship reign with some of the toughest defenses I've ever seen. He was spoon fed nothing in the ring, dear Bonnie, bold Polar. He'll take that belt from around your waist and smile while he does it. It's what he knows, It's what I know.

Wade starts to shake his fist, pounding it into the fleshy center of his opposite hand.

Wade Moor: But...but...but...what I don't know, Polar, is you. I mean, sure, anybody can look up a Wikipedia page, scour random profiles on Youtube for old promos of yours...but that's not what it takes to really learn a man. No, no...it's much more physical than that, my friend. I have to look into your eyes, the conduits of your very soul, Polar, to know what kind of man you are.

That begs the question...what kind of man are you, Polar? Are you the kind that takes the path of least resistance? You have all the tools, the makings of a World Champion in your own GodnillaDamned right...but, yet, somehow, it alludes you. Why is that? Are you too afraid of failure that you don't even try? Tearing it up in a Tag Team match isn't the same as holding your own one on one in the ring. Having a partner to rely on is both a blessing and a curse.

Or maybe, maybe you're the kind of man who knows he doesn't have what it takes in that respect? If so, that's such a shame. You could be big, you know? Leave behind your very own legacy you can be proud of instead of the late night Netflix binge-worthy soap opera bullshit you decide to pull instead. That's your own path, if you deem it so, but it won't net you the victory and the title retention this week Polar...because believe me, I'm throwing it all at you in the ring.

I have no mental blocks when it comes to winning, Polar. I have a pristine focus in the ring that can't be matched by anyone. Just ask anyone who has ever stepped into a ring with me Polar, and they'll tell you the exact same thing. Your Tag Team title reign? Over as of this week. Those belts are coming home with us to be added to my brand new trophy case.

Wade points to an empty shelf on the wall, the wood shining in the light.

Wade Moor: This week, UCI is going ot know exactly what it's in for when Dustin Beaver and Wade Moor come crashing down on those belts. Your run was admirable, but you didn't expect us so soon. It's ok, nobody knows what to expect from us other than a rough ass beating. Do the two of you have what it takes to win? We don't believe you do, so it's up to you to prove us wrong...

But that's not going to happen.

See you at Overload, Guardians.

The camera clicks and the screen goes black.