The Cabin In The Woods

Have you ever felt like everything around you was some kind of perceived reality? Your own Trompe-L'oeil?

Wade scribbled and scratched a worn pencil against a rather beaten notebook, his hand moving at a delicate, stroking pace. It was almost artistic the way his dirty hands brushed across the page as a wisp moving in a lush, dewy forest. He rose the pencil to his lips, chewing on the nearly depleted eraser, mulling his thoughts over through every avenue of his brainum.

Maybe the life you choose to lead isn't the one that's meant for you? You've only become so accustomed to your own darkness that you're nothing but blinded by it. The life I've lead up until now has led to nothing but bloodshed, death, soullessness...

The words fail to move forward, the pencil drops from Wade's hand and the air stifles in the vehicle. Dustin Beaver looks up from the drivers seat of the WINO-bago and turns toward the melancholy Wade. He reaches his hand up and places it on his Moor's shoulder, noticing the curative approach he was taking towards his writing quickly sour.

Dustin Beaver: Scratch it out?

Wade shakes his head, leaving the admittance on paper.

Maybe it was all part of the process? Everyone had their way, maybe his was repentance? Wade wasn't the religious type, but he had seen things that caused him to question his spiritual beliefs. Or had he? Had it all been real? Or just another part of his perception of reality, or apparent lack there of. His mind had been addled through a mixture of his upbringing, environment, heavy drug use, and a severe concussion that threatened to end his career. Picking up his pencil, he continued composing his thoughts in the notebook.

I realized that in a downward spiral of hopelessness I was actually falling into a huge hole created by my absence of basic human graces. The most obvious being compassion, forgiveness. If I was wronged by anyone, I had to be compensated in blood. There was no turning the other cheek. When relationships become a ledger of loss, you have no friends, no loved ones, just pluses and minuses. You are absolutely alone in the world.

Any intelligent person can try to make things satisfactory, less complex, comfortable...but it takes a touch of true genius and courage to move things in a bigger direction. I fear that my actions may be coming too late, but my true and selfish fear is that there may be no “bigger direction” for me. Maybe I'm doomed to live this life, this empty, violent life. Maybe it will always catch up to me, no matter how much distance I put between it and myself?

Now I step back into the ring, but will it all be worth it? Will it actually help me move in that “bigger direction”, or will I just sink even further into that darkness? The only way to find out is to march forward, move on with it, keep people by my side that have my best interests rooted deep in their hearts...and maybe I'll find those interests in my own as well.

Wade tucks the pencil away in the spine of the notebook, clasps it shut, and puts it away in the dashboard of the Bago. He looks towards Dustin, his brother in the ring and life, a smile creeping up the side of Wade's face. Through it all, through Wade's selfishness, rage, and violence, Dustin had been a single constant. His naivety to most of the happenings in the upper echelon of #BeachKrew had been a blessing rather than a curse. It kept him pure, he never forgot who he was, where he came from, or what he could go back to.

Dustin Beaver: All done?

Wade laughs under his breath.

Wade Moor: Afraid not, brother. This is just the beginning of something new.

Dustin shakes his head before brushing his hair behind his head and covering it with a black flat bill cap.

Dustin Beaver: I'm cool with that fam.

Dustin chuckles to himself a little bit as he parks the Bago on the side of the road and takes the keys from the ignition.

Dustin Beaver: Good thing too. We're here.

The dying lights of the WINO-bago barely illuminate the treeline of a damp, musty forest. Wade looks out towards it with a indication of trepidation in his deep, blue eyes. He reaches behind Dustin's seat and pulls a black travel duffel from it. He pulls a pair of flashlights from the side pocket, handing one to Beaver, before looking him in the eyes.

Wade Moor: I NEED you with me on this, bro.

Beaver holds his hand up to show a tattoo on the edge of his hand, the artwork surrounding it spilling down to his wrist and forearm. It read “#BK FAMILY”.

Dustin Beaver: These aren't just words to me. That's blood, fam. The good kind. Shit doesn't run.

Wade holds his hand up and bro fists Dustin, a smile once again curving up the side of his face. They kick open the doors to the WINO-bago and the pair walks towards the edge of the forest.




The flashlights danced through the darkness as the duo made their way through the brush and bramble of the forest, the previous paths cut through long since overtaken by the heavy flora and fauna of the Florida swamp. It had been a long time since Wade had been to his childhood home, but it never truly felt like a home. The mobile heat dump parked on the side of the road felt more like a home than this place ever had.

Now Dustin and Wade crossed this swamp again, one more time, one last time. The bag slung over his shoulder held his future. Expulsion of the ghosts of his past that continued to haunt every facet of his being. Anyone could put two and two together and figure out what he was doing here under cover of the night. Dustin wasn't an exception.

Dustin Beaver: What's in the bag, bro?

He lacked tact sometimes, but at least he used his brain and senses for their intended purposes.

Wade Moor: In time, dear brother.

Dustin stopped in his tracks, flashing his light directly into Wade's face, causing him to stop as well.

Dustin Beaver: No Wade, you're going to tell me. It's not going to work like that this time. If we're in this, we're in it together fam. You expect the same thing from me.

He never followed a blind order, did Dustin. Everything he did, he had a reason for doing it. He was smart, strong, loyal...the exact kind of person Wade would dig his hooks into back in the day. He knew the value of having someone like Dustin around then, that profit margin of a relationship being ever present. Now, things were different. The landscape had changed. The script had flipped upside down, and for the first time in Wade's life, he decided to read it.

Wade Moor: A can of gasoline, a box of matches, and remnants of my old life. I'm going to burn them all to the ground.

Dustin nodded, dropped the light and turned back to move towards the cabin. They cut through the thick branches and bushes, pushing forward in the darkness. Those lights continued to dance, playing against the moisture in the air. They mesmerized Wade, motivated him to move forward, the sense of dread and fear turning into euphoria. He felt the pain begin to wash away with every inch they moved through the woods.

Wade split a particularly difficult branch with a heave of his chest, his muscles gleaming in the light as he shoved against it. It cracked under the pressure and gave way to a familiar clearing. His strength continued to grow as they moved forward, that fire in his chest burning brighter and brighter with every passing second. They moved closer now, their flashlights catching glimpses of rotting wood and other remains of a home unsuitable for humans to live in.

Dustin Beaver: We're here. Are you ready, Wade?

Wade set the bag down on the ground and unzipped it, pulling the items from the bag. The gas can sloshed as he set it on the ground, the box of matches fell right next to it. He began to dig the rest of the items from the bag, Dustin's light illuminating them over his right shoulder as he did. He set a beaten tank top on the ground, navy blue in color. The front design was BAPHOMET atop a dank cloud of vapor, stunner shades pulled down low over his eyes, with “#BEACHKREW” written underneath it and “@godnilla” inscribed on the back.

Dustin Beaver: We had some good times though, didn't we?

Wade tried to smile as he reminisced on some of the times he had in #BeachKrew. Winning the Hellimination Tournament, almost taking WAR, and capturing the World Heavyweight Championship...they all brought an barren, unsatisfying feeling to the pit of his stomach. Putting all of his achievements on the scales of justice rarely tipped his time in #BeachKrew towards the good. They were all falsities, driven by malice, greed, and gangland violence. He threw the tank top to the ground and moved towards the next item in the bag.

Dustin Beaver: What the hell is that?

The note in Beaver's voice was one of confusion as Wade pulled the sharp talon of an Owl from the bottom of the bag and held it in his meaty fist.

Wade Moor: Memories of her, Dustin. I never told anyone about her, but somehow He always knew she was there.

Dustin Beaver: Who was she?

Wade dropped the talon on the tank top and it fell still. A tear slipped down Wade's cheek and ran into the thicket of his beard.

Wade Moor: Something that was never meant for me, Dustin. She was somebody that gave me light in the darkest part of my life, but I quickly discovered that as long as He was around, I would never have what I wanted. He wanted to keep my heat full of hate, keep me weak Dustin. It made it easier for Him to sink his teeth into me and control me. That's all He ever wanted, was for me to have nothing.

Wade felt his strength begin to fade, everything he had been building towards on the way out here slipping through the cracks of his fingers like water. His legs started to give way and he fell to the ground in a heap. He put his hands over his eyes and lay there, unaware of anything happening around him. Hours, days passed, as he lay useless on the muddy grass, only being shaken back to life by Dustin kicking the toe of his boot.

Dustin Beaver: Get up Wade, let's finish this.

His hands slipped down his face, and there was Dustin holding his hand out towards him. Wade contemplated staying on the ground, dying there and becoming one with the darkness. Doomed to rot away with that old, dilapidated cabin deep in the Florida Everglades as he was always meant to.

Dustin Beaver: Get the FUCK UP!

Dustin took a hold of Wade's hand and pulled him to his feet with strength belying the young athlete, but Wade was only able to take a knee. Dustin walked forward with the box of matches and struck one in the darkness.

Dustin Beaver: This is just the beginning of something new, Wade.

He dropped the match to the ground, igniting a trail of gasoline that rushed all the way towards the cabin which erupted in a fireball that blazed towards the sky. Wade watched as everything that he had known since he was a child burned in the dancing flames. Dustin stood in front of it, watching it all and taking it in.

Wade loved Dustin in that moment, an emotion he thought he would never feel again. He stood to his feet, his strength returning to him as the cabin began to break down in combustion. He felt his pain, his anger, his darkness wash away in the brilliant lights rocketing towards the sky. He cried happy tears as Dustin walked towards him and put his hand on his shoulder.

Dustin Beaver: You ready to do this? There's no time like the present.

Dustin pulled a smart phone from his pocket and went to his camera.

Wade Moor: No...I don't think I can...

Dustin held his hand out.

Dustin Beaver: We're doing this, Wade. Let it out man. Send it out into the world. Let them see your pain. Let them know who you REALLY are.

Wade shook his fist, brushing his dirty hand across his ashen cheeks.

Wade Moor: Ok...Ok, I'm ready.

Dustin held the camera up towards Wade and hit record.

Wade stood in silence for a moment, watching the cabin burn for a little while longer, before turning to the camera and speaking.

Wade Moor: Something happened when this cabin went up in flames. The roar of the fire drowned out all the sound around me. My heart started to beat with the crackle, my field of vision funneled into the immediate...and suddenly, I wasn't watching the fire anymore. I was in it, I was part of it. Everything up until this moment felt unreal, like cardboard cutouts blowing passed a part of my mind I didn't even know existed anymore.

All my problems, all the noise – it just disappeared. Nothing else to worry about except what was in front of me. Maybe that's my lesson for today? I have to hold on to this moment, always. Appreciate it like I never have before. Maybe there won't be many of them left after this, but that's not what I want for myself. Finding things that make you truly happy shouldn't be so hard. In this life, you'll face pain, suffering, and tough choices...but you can't let the weight of those choices choke the joy out of your life. No matter what, you have to find the people that love you and run to them, cling to them. They always say that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger...

But I don't believe in that saying. I think things that try to kill you only exist to make you angry, violent. True strength comes from the good things, your family, the satisfaction of a hard days work. These are some of the things that will keep you whole. These are the things that you need to hold onto when you're broken maaan.

He stops for a moment, breathes in the air of flames, pulling each ember into his recuperating soul.

Wade Moor: These are the things that will refresh you, regenerate you...make you ready to step forward into the future as a new person, ready to reclaim what's yours.

He smiles and pulls the hat down over his eyes.

Wade Moor: And trust me when I say, I will reclaim what's mine. It doesn't matter where I have to start, and who I have to go through, I will sit at the top of this company as the UCI World Heavyweight Champion...and my path begins with Erin Fausse and Julian Mercury with my brother Dustin by my side.

I know how the two of you perceive me. I know you believe that I'm coming back from hiatus with a chip on my shoulder, that I probably think this is going to be some kind of cake walk for me, that I have no idea who in the fuck you two are...but I know exactly who you are. I see everything, and nothing escapes my ever watchful eye.

He runs his hand across his finger, using his pointer finger to pull his bottom eye lid down.

Wade Moor: Erin...your heart may beat, but you're not alive...and it makes me sick to see you all strung on this broken concept that is religion. My heart aches for you, my child. I see the pain you're in, driving yourself to the end of the World to find a God that will never come looking for you. What if he did have his eye on you like Wade Moor does? If I were you, I would PRAY that he never intervened.

Because the God I've come to know? He's a petulant child with a magnifying glass, staring down at the ant you are with snot in his nostrils, wondering what level of misery he can put you through before you ultimately die. Is that the kind of Higher Power you believe in, Erin? Is that what you search for relentlessly? Because I can give that to you, my child, if you so desperately crave it. Godnilla will put you through so many levels of Hell at Overload you'll start to question if that's where you've been living all along.

Erin, my daughter, the apple of my eye...you remind me of myself in so many ways. Living in darkness, searching desperately for a light that doesn't seem to shine, just to mindlessly wander even further into that darkness. I can tell you from experience that you'll find nothing that deep in the spiral. There's no light at the end of the tunnel, Fausse. You're only hope is to turn back, get as far away from that life you're living as possible before there ISN'T any turning back.

This Sunday at Overload, however? Your options are limited to one. There will be no running away. You'll step into the ring with Wade Moor and I'll make you see Godnilla. This match? This is my return match. This is the freshest, the strongest Wade Moor anyone has ever seen...comparatively? You're fucked, my child. The lot of you are, yet nobody has seemed to realize it. Do you even know who you're getting into the ring with? Wade Moor. Former World Champion. THE toughest motherfucker to ever grace that ring, and none of my skills were God-given. I had to scratch, slice, gnaw and gnash my teeth for everything I've ever earned...and I'll do it all over again starting with you.

I have you figured out Erin...but you're spiraling into the darkness against me, struggling to come up with anything to say, fumbling over your words as you bask in the glory that is Godnilla. It's ok, my daughter, drink it in.

Wade closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, running his arms up the length of his torso before jutting them out in front of himself. He holds out his hands and his eyes snap open, the fire roaring behind him illuminating them brighter than they've ever been.

Wade Moor: And what to say about young Julian, my son, my utter disappointment? I don't know where to begin with you, but I do know where to end with you...at Overload where I Broseidon Punch your head clean off of your shoulders...or maybe Beaver will transfuse your head to the ring mat with that Bass Drop piece? However it happens, one thing is for certain...you lose.

What makes you think the two of you randoms would even stand a chance against a cohesive unit like Beaver and I? We're brothers. We know each other like the back of our bro fists, maaan. I can tell you what he had for breakfast – aka a chump like you – could you even tell me what drives Erin's success? Could she tell me what drives your absolute failures? Please, tell me. I'm waiting...

Wade crosses his arms and moves his ear towards the camera. He pulls back, laughing as he does, holding his hands straight up to the sky.

Wade Moor: You don't know?! Paint me surprised, because that's the only way you'll be able to capture any kind of emotion. You're as limp and vanilla as a soft serve cone – aka what I had for breakfast – and you're going to pay for thinking you even deserve to share the same ring as me, Julian. This match is as close to the top of the card you're going to get, my child. You're welcome. Papa Godnilla's blessings continue to rain down on you two poor plebeians.

What are you going to bring to the ring that I haven't seen before Julian? Your obvious daddy issues? Got em, child, and Papa's going to continue piling them on. Are you going to be a good boy and lay down for me? Or are you gonna try to fight back? Personally, I prefer the latter, but whatever floats your boat...which is slowly sinking as Sunday looms closer and closer.

Each ticking second is like a constant drip in a pan. Not so bad at first, but with each passing moment, you begin to feel a tick. Get a little annoyed until you reach your melting point, Mercury. You start to curse, scream, thrash as each drop falls. Eventually you resent it, then me, then yourself. Then you fall down and die for Wade Moor and Dustin Beaver. What makes us a good team? The same thing that makes me better than you in every fiber of your being...

Chemistry, Mercury.

I'll Sea You Soon, my children.

Wade stares into the camera for a few more seconds before lowering his head and Dustin ends the recording.