“The darkness agrees with me. It asks me to release it, as loud as a roar and as quiet as a whisper. I remember what my sister said long ago: You must control the darkness. You can’t ever give in to it.”
-Ed Gein
January 23, 2023
Gnaw Bone, Indiana
The Farmhouse
The Astro Creeps are preparing to climb into their 1972 Ford Club Wagon and head north to Chicago. Tempest doesn’t have a match this evening, so there isn’t a big rush to make the four hour drive. In fact, only Kosnar and Pisces are outside walking across the property in the direction of the only barn that hasn’t caved in on itself. It stands on the west side of the property, just in front of the field beyond.
It’s early afternoon and Daedalus is standing in the front room of the farmhouse with his cell phone up to his ear and a smirk on his face. Tempest starts to step in from the kitchen and pauses at the sound of Daedalus speaking into the phone.
Daedalus: …don’t mind, I’d like to keep this between you and I for the time being.
He pauses, squinting his eyes as he focuses on the voice coming from the other end of the phone.
Daedalus: Oh, that works out perfectly then! It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, Mister… uhh… Boss. We’ll be in touch.
He ends the call, still grinning when Tempest interrupts his thoughts.
Tempest: I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you refer to anyone as a boss.
The Architect jolts at the sound of his soft spoken monster behind him and turns around quickly. As he almost always seems to do, Daedalus regains his composure as quickly as he lost it. He presses his palms down against the torso of his suit.
Daedalus: Well, I don’t often receive ominous phone calls where the other voice insists on it being part of his name.
Tempest: Ah.
The Spider King looks at his friend suspiciously.
Tempest: And was this a business deal?
Daedalus: It was.
Tempest: Similar to our business deal with Mr. Wetzel?
The Architect’s eyes flick downward, before he meets Moseley’s gaze again.
Daedalus: No. Not like that one.
The Spider King looks disappointed. Daedalus steps towards him and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Daedalus: Don’t worry. We’ll fill that hollow once again, young man. For now, I need you to just relax and trust me.
Tempest nods and Daedalus helps to push him towards the front door of the farmhouse. Tempest reluctantly obliges, walking slowly outside and towards the barn with the other Creeps.
It isn’t that Moseley Gein doesn’t trust Daedalus. However, since Daedalus had been named the Creative Director of the Coalition for this year, Tempest had developed, whether rational or irrational, an anxiousness for the thought of Daedalus making decisions in such a role. Tempest doesn’t want to say he doesn’t trust the man who has brought him the successes that he has. But, isn’t he skeptical of his leader’s secrecy? Even a little bit? The answer to that question is yes. He is.
He doesn’t have a reason to feel the way that he does. Yet, it is so. Has he become so human that he’s adopted the emotions of a society he’s always detested?
He wants to say no.
Yet, did he not feel the sting of disappointment when he lost the UGWC World Championship to Lucy Wylde?
No. He could never admit that. Not publicly. And certainly not to Daedalus or the other Astro Creeps. They would feast on him. Everyone would.
So no is his answer, he has not absorbed those human emotions that have always been so alien to him before.
No is his answer. But his answer is a lie.
February 10, 2023
Gnaw Bone, Indiana
The Underlook
Don’t think I have forgotten about you.
As Beetlejuice said to the voodoo doctor, I’ve got your number.
Hyuk hyuk!
I guess you could say our story began in June of two thousand twenty-two. Would that be fair to say, Mr. Pierce?
It wasn’t quite direct, and it certainly was not you against me in much of any capacity. I remember you had dug your own grave. And in one of its rare occasions, the rest of the Coalition was intelligent enough to put it together, and make you lie in the hole you dug for yourself.
We didn’t do it because you were the biggest threat. I can speak for myself, at least, when I viewed you as being very little threat to me in my hunt for the Battleground key. Yes, I… underestimated you.
At Wrestlestock, you would come back from the grave, with the vengeance of a specter I have never seen before. You didn’t quite meet the goal you had set in place for yourself. But you put all of us on notice that you were pissed. A fire burned in your eyes as bright as the flame that took my vision.
It wouldn’t be until August that you would feed me the dirt that we buried you beneath back in June. Yes, I won the match. But you took away something I wanted much more than just the World Championship. I was longing for the opportunity to be the one who took it away from the woman that I call The Omen. And you stole that from me, on purpose.
Do you have any idea what it’s like to be so close to achieving your goals, only for someone to swoop in like a falcon and take it from you?
I suppose you do, don’t you? I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was your redemption from Battleground. Even if you didn’t quite get what you came for, you took my moment away from me. Because if there’s anything that Travis Pierce is a professional in, it’s in the art of keeping others out of the spotlight in order to remain in it himself.
See, I’ve always looked at myself as being cerebral. But that subtle move you made at Run of the Mill in August, it gave you exactly what you wanted. It gave you a World Championship opportunity. So, the truth is, in that moment, you were a more dangerous cerebral mercenary than I was. You were smarter than I was. Because you got what you wanted. And my judgment, clouded by emotion–emotion that you planted inside my brain–became skewed.
I hand picked you to be my first World Championship defense. By that time, my hunger for the championship, just like my hunger for first the Chaos, and then the Cross-Hemisphere, grew. And your chances at a true redemption, like a fly caught in the spider’s web, shrank.
I had driven all of my frustrations, all of my emotions, into that match with you. Because you had taken away that one simple opportunity from me. As a result, when I finally did get my chance at redemption, I failed. Some of that should be attributed to you, in your mind. It certainly is in mine.
So to say that this is just another match would be quite a fib, wouldn’t it Mr. Pierce?
Everything you wanted last year that you didn’t accomplish, in one way or another, was because of me.
Turn the tables, and everything I wanted last year that I didn’t accomplish, in one way or another, was because of you.
This is personal for me, just as it’s personal for you. It doesn’t matter how many wins I have over you in the ring. What drives me into madness is how many wins you have over me in my own fucking HEAD!
At Infinity on February thirteenth, I am going to stamp. you. out.
End of January/Beginning of February 2023
Gnaw Bone, Indiana
The Farmhouse
Daedalus: Moseley! You have a letter!
He calls from the front door. The driver of the mail truck looks thoroughly concerned, even standing a good six feet from the open door. Daedalus flashes what’s supposed to be a reassuring smile, but the mailman feels even more uneasy.
The Spider King steps into the room after a few moments and glares at the mailman. His attention is taken from him when Daedalus holds up an envelope.
Daedalus: Apparently, this nice young fellow cannot leave until he’s received a signature from you.
Tempest stares at the letter, then shifts his gaze to Daedalus, that same look of suspicion from the other day on his face. Hesitantly, he takes the letter and moves it between his fingertips. He turns to look at Kosnar and Pisces sitting on the couch behind him. Even behind their masks, he gets the feeling they’re grinning at him with condescension. Have they been given a place in the UGWC Consortium as well? It is an absurd thought.
But a thought, nonetheless. Finally, he tears open the top of the envelope, and pulls something shiny out.
For a long time, Moseley only stares at it. During this time, it occurs to Daedalus that the boy might not even know what it means. He is quite sheltered, after all. Not as sheltered as his great uncle Ed, but sheltered enough. Then the Spider King slowly raises his head.
Tempest: Is this from the man you referred to as ‘Mr. Boss’ over the phone?
Daedalus nods, and the paranoia that’s been beginning to consume Tempest fades like a morning fog.
Daedalus: You’ve also been chosen to compete for another of those treasures that you’ve taken a liking to. And, like a true predator, I do believe that the thrill of the hunt has become more thrilling to you than the kill itself. I’m fascinated by the thought of what you can do… elsewhere.
Tempest looks up abruptly and Daedalus backpedals a bit.
Daedalus: Not that there’s anything wrong with the Coalition. It is, after all, where you’ve shaped yourself.
Tempest: I have a very specific goal here in the Coalition. But I won’t be able to get to it until after Infinity.
Daedalus smiles and holds out an ipad in front of Tempest.
Daedalus: Sign here, then. And then we’ll pull them into our world.
Tempest returns the smile with a deformed smirk of his own, then signs the ipad with his index finger, leaving a smudge of dirt on the screen when he does. He looks up at the mailman and his one good eye fixes on him. From the perspective of the mailman, all he can look at is the blind eye of the Tempest, white like a spider’s egg.
Tempest: Say… that mailman looks awfully appetizing.
Daedalus grins and turns his head towards the mailman, as well. Within the house, Kosnar and Pisces have their eyes glued on him, too. The phone in Daedalus’s breast pocket begins to ring as the mailman takes a step backwards.
Mailman: You–you don’t want to do that. You need me to give confirmation to the Sauce Boss at TIA Promotions, remember!?
The mailman is terrified and desperate, using the only bargaining chip he has with these dysfunctional people, as cheap and worthless as it may be. Daedalus nods, however, and hope is restored within the mailman.
Briefly.
Daedalus holds his phone screen out to face him. It reads:
TIA Promotions
The Architect smirks hatefully.
Daedalus: I assume he’s just received Moseley’s signature and is calling to discuss the details himself. Why don’t you stay for dinner and celebrate with us?
The innocent man’s eyes widen and he backs away, absent-mindedly shaking his head in denial, before turning and taking off running towards his mail truck. Daedalus sighs and watches out the window.
Daedalus: Pisces… you did remove the battery… right?
Pisces sits in silence as the mailman turns the key to start his truck… only for it to fail. Without taking his eyes off the mailman, Daedalus growls.
Daedalus: Get him.