“There are more maniacs loose than one thinks.”
-Les lèvres rouges [Daughters of Darkness]
January 30, 2023
Chicago, Illinois
Synergy
Tempest looks up into the lights. The monster standing over him is but a silhouette in those lights, but he doesn’t need to see the Bogeyman’s face to know what he already knows: JC is exactly what Tempest says he is.
He smiles behind his mask as the chair comes down on him like a hammer. He hears the bell ring.
Oh, come on, Mr. Burke, Tempest thinks. Let JC have some fun.
And then something happens that catches even the Spider King by surprise.
There’s some commotion in the ring that at first Tempest can’t see, but then JC reluctantly exits. Tempest turns his head so his good eye can focus on the entity who saved him.
Zane Scott?
He chuckles to himself and rests his head back against the canvas, still longing for the icy slap of a chair across his back.
February 4, 2023
Gnaw Bone, Indiana
The Farmhouse
Daedalus watches from the window of the upstairs bedroom as Tempest skips merrily across the property to the barn in the far southwest corner. The roof of the barn has caved in already, and Daedalus has meant to buy a tractor to tear it the rest of the way down. He isn’t sure if he would then build a new one, or leave the concrete slab as it is. Regardless, he hasn’t gotten that far. He contemplates this as Tempest disappears through one of the side doors.
Moseley enters the barn, ducking beneath a broken beam. He moves deeper into the barn easily, despite the obstacles in his way. He steps around an old rope hanging from one of the few beams up high that’s structural integrity hasn’t been weakened. A built-in wooden bench sits empty deep in the bowels of the barn. Bird shit covers it, some old and hard, and some spots fresh. Moseley doesn’t seem to notice and sits down on the bench, undoubtedly getting some of the bird shit on the seat of his coveralls. He exhales cheerfully, then leans forward and props a handheld camera on a broken railing. It happens to be at just the right level to capture him centered on the screen. He smiles to himself as he presses the record button on the camera. Because he isn’t wearing his mask, his teeth, spotted black and gray, can be seen while he smiles.
Tempest: Hello.
He leans back against the excrement-covered bench and stretches himself out.
Tempest: Every so often, I like to take off my mask so you can see the real me. The explicit, uncensored, and rawest version of myself.
Outside, the wind howls angrily and the barn creaks and groans against it.
Tempest: The real me. My name is Moseley Gein. That’s the real me. I am a descendant of a Wisconsin farmer. Uncle Eddie was my great uncle. He was misunderstood. And he died long before I was born, but… recently, he’s been speaking to me.
An unsettling sort of excitement fills him as his face brightens. It’s childish, and feels almost innocent, despite how disturbing it truly is.
Tempest: When the moon is full, I can hear him. I can hear Uncle Eddie speak to me… from the moon.
Moseley looks into the camera and seems to get a little insecure. He looks down at the dirt-covered concrete slab and leans down, running his fingers through the dust.
Tempest: Tonight is a full moon. I wonder what he’ll have to say to me since falling down the spiral.
He looks grim, almost fearful of his potential conversation with his uncle Eddie. His expression changes quickly from grim to excited.
Tempest: But I wonder what he’ll think of the mask I’ve started modifying! He’ll definitely like that!
His smile returns, and Moseley relaxes once again. Outside, he can hear the wretched sound of the birds speaking to each other.
Tempest: You know…
His conversation with his audience transitions erratically as he crosses his ankles and reclines on the bench.
Tempest: The best decision I’ve made is moving on from my… demise… and joining the Coalition’s Global Challenge. I’ve played with new toys… I’ve revisited an old enemy that I genuinely believe was having entirely too much fun during our play date. And finally… I’ve made new friends.
Leaning forward, Moseley plants his feet onto the concrete and leans his forearms against his knees. He stares into the camera, tilting his head.
Tempest: Do you know what makes me so much different than everybody else out there? I’m different because I give you the unfiltered, unbiased truth. You see, I don’t have a circle to run with. My circle is my Creeps. But the rest of you? You’re so afraid of hurting each other’s feelings. I wouldn’t know what to do with a compliment if anyone gave it to me, let alone their friendship. So, JC, you know that when I say, you’ve just taken three steps back after taking one step forward, that I’m telling you the truth. Your ascension in the Coalition has stopped abruptly, and it’s because you’re afraid. You’re afraid of me.
Moseley smiles knowingly.
Tempest: You’ve been purposely avoiding opportunities at championships, because you don’t want to feel let down when you walk away empty-handed. You know, deep down, that you should have joined the Astro Creeps when you had the opportunity, because deep down, you know, that you’ll never climb beyond our level. Isn’t it ironic, then, that the Astro Creeps have all risen to a relevance greater than you could ever achieve here? After having such success elsewhere? I believe I’ve heard that being described as: victory has defeated you. And now, isn’t it ironic, the man that everyone has looked down on in this company, is the one filling their graves with dirt? Are you paying attention to me, Bogeyman? Or are you hiding under your covers from the creature under your bed? The truth is, JC… the time has come to pay the pied piper for what you did… and you’re afraid. Oh how I long to see the looks on the faces of those in your body count when they realize that the Bogeyman…
He blatantly pauses, letting the thought hang in the air like a cloud of dust.
Tempest: …is a coward. And you know that I’m telling you the truth. Because lying has never been needed in my arsenal. You see, that’s the thing about fear that they don’t tell ya. People aren’t afraid of lies. They’re afraid of the truth. And the truth is, JC… I’m better than you in every aspect, and that’s why you snapped the way you did. On a night where the importance of a victory was at its peak for you, I broke you. The panic of being in the spotlight again set in, and you took the coward’s way out. So let me ask you one more question, JC. A question that has been echoing within the corridors of my mind since I’ve watched you dodge opportunity after opportunity since you’ve returned: What are you doing here? Why are you here? If it isn’t to make your body count worth something more than just two words and a number… if it isn’t to ascend and stand at the top of the mountain… if it isn’t to sit on that elusive throne in the castle of the Coalition… then why are you here? You are staining your legacy in your frantic attempts to protect it. When you could be the monster that I saw you as two years ago. You disappoint me, Bogeyman. You’re supposed to be more fearful than this.
After staring into the camera for several moments, Moseley leans back on the bench as if to reset. He sighs, expressing disappointment. Whether the expression is sincere or not is left for his audience to decide.
Tempest: Zane Scott, though…
He chuckles, which bleeds into a low growl of excitement.
Tempest: Now there’s a boogeyman. You know, Zane, I’ve sat back and I’ve watched the same tired insults hurled in your direction… and somehow this company continues to feel that those insults aren’t outdated. I’ve watched, whether you realize it or not, as the same men who accuse you of being boring, put me to sleep with their bland, mediocre self-promotions… that they’ve plagiarized. Isn’t that such a big problem here in the Coalition? No one seems to have the ability to think for themselves. Men like us, though? We do, don’t we?
His tongue clicks in his mouth as a smirk pulls at one corner of his mouth. He grabs the edge of the bench, right in a fresh, purple and white pile of bird shit. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, though, as he takes the same hand and points at the camera. The shit stain can be seen on the palm of his hand.
Tempest: You’ve sat on the throne in the highest room of the castle, haven’t you? And people seem to forget about that. Or perhaps they’re so new here, that they never saw that version of you. Well, I’ve never seen that version of you, Zane. But I don’t have to. It’s there. That desire to hurt a man. That malevolence. That malicious, savage, primal instinct. It’s there, isn’t it? Doesn’t it just make you… salivate?
He giggles, crossing his arms in front of his chest like he’s speaking to an old, long lost friend. And in his mind, perhaps he is.
Tempest: I like you, Zane. And not just because you came to my rescue… for whatever reason. Is it truly because you want me to be at my best this week?
He ponders the question sincerely, before looking back into the camera.
Tempest: Yes. I believe you honestly want that. You want it, because you’re tired of being ignored. And you are being ignored. When I was still the World Champion, you defeated me. That should give you the right to challenge for that championship. Instead, the Consortium chooses to ignore it. Instead, Zane Scott is cast aside while Daedalus chooses Montague Cervantes to challenge for the World Championship. Don’t take that wrong, of course Daedalus will choose an Astro Creep to take down the Omen. But the Consortium has the power to prevent nepotism, do they not? And yet here we are… Zane Scott is thrown into another obstacle course with a brass ring at the end.
Moseley shakes his head, frowning. But the frown disappears quickly and is replaced with a smirk.
Tempest: But I see you, Zane. You defeated the World Champion. You defeated me. You’ve earned your spot to challenge the throne again.
Sighing, Moseley’s face contorts to discomfort.
Tempest: Unfortunately, in order to do that, you have to get through me once more. It’s not fair. But it’s not something that Zane Scott would avoid if given a choice. The fact is… I’m at the top of this company. I don’t need the World Championship to illustrate that. The Spider King is the man to beat in the Coalition. And you know it. That’s why you want me at my best. And who am I to deny such requests? I’ll be at my best, Zane. You can count on that. And then the truth will set you free. If you beat me? Then the truth is, you belong in the top spot. You belong at the top of our block. And if I beat you?
A small smile tries to form on his lips.
Tempest: Then I’ll look forward to fighting you for our inevitable grudge match. You and I, we belong as the main attraction of any show. At some point, I expect you and I to headline a much larger show than Synergy. But for now, I suppose it’s our duty to show everyone why we should headline a larger show. And we’re going to give them a show, Mr. Scott. Of that, I have no doubt.
Moseley takes in a deep breath of air and looks around at his surroundings, enjoying his time alone in the barn. He looks back into the camera.
Tempest: I speak the truth. And the truth is what everyone fears. The truth, not the lie, is the gravedigger. My name is Moseley Gein. And I am the Spider King. I am the truth creeping out from under your bed. And I am the Tempest.
He winks with his good eye, leaving it closed for an uncomfortable length of time, with his dead eye staring lifelessly into the camera. He finally stands from the bench and presses stop on the camera before snatching it up and carrying it with him out of the barn. Above him, the moon comes alive, and glares down. And as Moseley climbs out of the barn and rushes across the property, Ed Gein speaks to him from the moon.