Life is Cruel: "All you can do is Suffer."

[Victor Hades]

Life is Cruel:
"All you can do is Suffer."

Go!

This ain't a test, Fuck the rest
Time to set the record straight
Talk your shit, behind my back
Let's hear you say it to my face
I've heard the words fall out your lips
You little trendy fucking bitch
The time has come to get you some
Cause I do not give a shit

Do you take me for a fool?
How's it feel to be a tool?
See to me you’re just a cancer
Motherfucker war is the answer

As of now the end begins
I want to laugh but there's no joke
To eat with beasts
And run with the wolves
On the ashes you must choke
I know it's got to chap your ass
To think I just won't go away
Effects me not, I'm writing you off
I've got nothing more to say

"You're in the midst of a war: a battle between the limits of a crowd seeking the surrender of your dreams, and the power of your true vision to create and contribute. It is a fight between those who will tell you what you cannot do, and that part of you that knows / and has always known / that we are more than our environment; and that a dream, backed by an unrelenting will to attain it, is truly a reality with an imminent arrival."

Hades Journal:
Tuesday-October 20, 2009

"We all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes, and our ravages. But our task is not to unleash them on the world; it is to fight them in ourselves and in others. I've found that war inside this delusionist, this showboat, this pitiful excuse for a breathing sack of meat-Jesse Nunez. I've found every reason to use every organ, muscle, brain cell, and breathe of air in my body, to do whatever possible to bring down this garbage. The very thought of his existence makes me sick to the core of my body, and it drives me insane enough to absolutely, irrevocably HATE him. Enough that every fiber of my being drives to see him suffer, to see him defeated, bruised, battered, bloodied, bludgeoned, and broken. The catchphrases, the merchandise, the movies, the action figures, it's every where I turn, it's inevitable to escape. No matter-it won't be for long until I wipe the very name "Jesse Nunez" from APW, from the world, from ever...existing...

These fans can hate me for it I don't care-they can chant and remind me of the horrors I'd done, they can go on for as long as they'd like. The least of my worries will be ever seeing that name, that face in my presence rotting and polluting up the place ever again. I don't care if I'm the most disrespected or the most hated, I don't care if the whole fucking world is my enemy. I'll walk with a crosshair on my back; I'm twice the fucking devil there claims to be. I won't stay for anyone, I won't stay to save anyone, I won't stay because I simply can't be fucking stopped. These people, those people out there in the world today, will come to thank for me the things I'm willing to do, for the things I'm going to do, for ridding of Jesse Nunez. They don't know it yet-but they will.

I'm not sorry for the things I'm going to do, I'm not sorry for the things I've done, and Jesse Nunez...you're going to be sorry...because frankly...I'm not sorry."


[ BEEP! ]

The over-whelming high-pitched tune sounded blaring over the intercom as he sat up in an instant, hearing the bus driver's voice echoing in his ears throughout the charter bus.

Bus Driver-"Alright folks we're about, thirty-five to forty minutes outside of Miami here it looks like. We should uh-be getting fairly close to MIA-the Miami International Airport, just sit back, relax, we should be getting to our exit ramp here shortly."

Victor slid his tattoo-sleeved arm over his chest and scratched his left shoulder puzzled, fixing his eyes on the passengers around him. Scanning and studying each carefully while he leaned against the nearby window, had he fallen asleep again and had a dream? The long nights of working show after show left him little sleep, could he have imagined the man in the bar and the man he'd spoken to on the bus all along? When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep... and you're never really awake. Could he have been developing stages of insomnia all along, or was this just some strange, far-out dream he'd yet to escape?

Victor Hades- "Get a fucking grip, Victor."

Victor mutters to himself, slowly closing his eyes and placing his head back against the head-rest. The long drive it seemed was beginning to get to him, causing his sleeping patterns to spiral a bit out of comfort to his liking. After another ten minutes or so had passed, the bus had reached a rest stop and pulled in for gas and passengers to stretch and so on.

[ BEEP! ]


Bus Driver-"Okay folks, looks like this is about the only place we'll get to make a short stop until we arrive in Miami. If you'd like to get out and stretch or use the bathrooms you are more than welcome to."

After coming to a careful stop and the doors slowly opened, and the passengers filed out aimlessly. Victor adjusting his tight-fit "Killswitch Engage" black t-shirt steps off the bus, and checks the clock on his cell phone realizing the sun was beginning to set.

"5:15 P.M."

Slipping the iTouch phone back into his back pocket of his torn and baggy denim jeans, Victor slowly began walking towards the Rest-Stop complex where other passengers seemed to linger. Stepping through the entrance door as the others seemed to go silent in his presence, while Victor soon felt every eye in the store fall upon his approach. Whispering amongst one another and interrelating as they glance as Victor while doing so, as Hades stops in the doorway. Looking to each individual one at a time hearing the silence fall over the store, before the others resumed minding their business.

Moving to the cashier need the front of the store Victor asked for a pack of cigarettes, pausing for a moment peering over his shoulder to an old man. The old man simply realizing he'd been caught staring quickly looked away as Victor sighed, purchasing his cigarettes and storming out the door seconds later.


Jesus'-"Did you know smoking is bad for your health, my hijo'?"

A voice in the distance muttered to Victor followed by a quiet chuckle, as Victor stopped a few feet outside the shop turning his head. The old gray-haired Latino-accented man stood with a bright smile, while comfortably standing in his white robe as he appeared before.

Victor Hades- "What's it to you?"

Victor grumbled, lifting the packed pouch to his cold lips as he pulled a single cigarette out between them. Before flipping a Zippo lighter open and lighting it carefully keeping an eye on the old man, who simply appeared to hold a puckered brow at the sight.

Jesus'- "Because my hijo, you are only killing yourself faster and shortening your life in this paradise. You must start seeing the light from a different point of life, and accept a much happier approach to living."

Victor laughed, inhaling carefully taking a small drag from the cigarette before blowing the small trail of smoke into the air. Watching it diminish in the atmosphere while looking back at the old man, who only seemed to grow more hurt-looking by Victor's choice to smoke away.

Victor Hades- "Killing myself faster isn't any different than the shit I do on television every night brother, and as far as "seeing the light goes", I closed the book on that a long time ago. I'm not afraid of the dark pal..."

Victor grumbles, flicking a bit of ash from the tip of his cigarette on the ground before taking another hit looking back to the old Latino man once more.

Jesus'-"There is more to life than pain amigo, life isn't all about pain and suffering...there is more to it than that. You can too if you just accept light in your life and let go of the other, bring yourself to the surface and breathe."

Victor smirks and slowly shakes his head, growing somewhat irritated.

Victor Hades- "No offense uh..."padre", but I don't go near that religion "b.s." at least not anymore. Maybe some of those old folks would appreciate it though, since y'know they're all making preparations to sort of kick the can and all..."

Jesus' lowers his head as the small breeze passing by creates waves in the gray locks of his hair, looking back at Victor who gives somewhat of a anti-sympathetic expression.

Jesus'-"He does watch over you too hijo', whether you believe he does or not."

Jesus' mutters in his thick accent, meanwhile the busy, robust bus driver stepping beside Victor kindly steps in. His rather large black bus-driver jacket snugly fit against his large frame, while he smiles his thick mustache mimics his dimples. The light brown strands of his short hair combed aside neatly, as he gives a polite nod towards Victor to greet him.

Bus Driver- "Excuse me sir, we're boarding the bus now if you're ready to get back on we can leave as soon as everyone is on board."

The man gestures kindly with a smile, as Victor waits a moment before slowly exhaling a cloud of smoke in the driver's face. Pausing for a moment before giving a reassuring nod in response, quietly the bus driver remains still for a moment before walking away respectively feeling intimidated.

Victor Hades- "Anyway, you were say-"

Victor cuts himself off mid-sentence turning his head to see the old man is no longer there, perking a brow to him as he puts the cigarette out along the pavement. Pressing his toe along the cherry of the cigarette as he glances around, appearing to be rather puzzled as to the old man's whereabouts. Carefully making his way back to the charter bus, peering over his shoulder once more...

About 45 minutes later...

Sitting in the crowded and noisy airport in Miami, Hades sits arms crossed and eyes closed awaiting his flight to begin boarding. The sounds of people passing by, yelling on cellphones, airlines coming over the intercom, and children crying seems to fizzle out of conscious. Until finally a cold chill comes trailing down his spine as he tights his folded arms, re-adjusting himself in his seat somewhat...

Voice- "Getting cold in Miami...that's a new one..."

A voice with a rough, quiet tone suddenly emerged from the right side of Victor as his eyes shot open, peering slowly to the man seated beside him. Noticing a familiar slim man with fairly pale skin, short black colored hair slicked back, and a crimson and black suit. Sitting casually reading a local Miami newspaper to himself, holding a concrete smirk as he fails to even glance at Victor. Realizing the familiar face and who the man is, Victor flinches for almost an instant and catches himself growing paranoid...

Victor Hades- "Wha-Lucas-You?? What the hel-h-how did you get here, are you living in Florida or something? What are you doing here?"

Victor finally manages to get the sentence out, much to the amusement of Lucas who holds his callous smirk.

Lucas-"Here in florida, ha-trust me Victor I've found comfort living in a place much hotter than the tropical life of Florida."

Lucas mutters, cutting the sentence off with a careful yet playful tone as he chuckles to himself audibly.

Victor Hades- "I see...the tan you seem to be sporting just screams somewhere much more tropical than good ol' sunny Florida."

Victor mutters sarcastically in a strange tone softly, as Lucas finishing the newspaper slowly folds it in his lap and turns to Victor.

Lucas-"So, whose funeral are you flying out to?"

Lucas mutters carefully before growing a dark grin, just seconds after a long pause Victor does the same...

[ To... Be... Continued... ]

One Night in Hell '2009' Promo:

The sounds of crickets chirping, a strong gust of the chilling wind blowing past, wolves howling in the moonlight, and storm clouds closing in bellow in the distance of the night sky. A familiar setting many are used to when it comes to a dark, sadistic, fearless, barbaric, out of control, blood-thirsty sociopath known as "The Titan of Torment", "The Devil's Comrade" Victor Hades. A very comforting setting for someone as cruel and cold-hearted such as himself, unlike most unrealistic, unproductive, unintelligent combatants he'd face thus far in his career. The long, hard, hellacious road of destruction he'd been on leading up to this point, straight into One night in Hell.

The camera focuses on an open empty field near a large clearing of tall, dark trees and wooded areas in the distance. Finally panning around carefully to a fairly large dirt mound, supporting a shovel stuck in the top near a six-foot deep hole. Near the hole rests a large concrete headstone, cracked and aged with time appearing to hold no information. In the distance the sounds of a motorized engine closes in within seconds, followed by the sounds of the motor cutting off and a door opening and closing.

Footsteps can be heard reaching closer and closer towards the camera as it focuses in on the shovel, until finally a dark shadow appear along the dirt mound. Victor Hades walks into view sporting an unbuttoned long-sleeved black shirt, and a baggy pair of black jeans down his masculine frame. Ascending the dirt mound slowly, before circling the impaled shovel, as he places the palms of his hands onto the shovel-glancing to the six-foot hole beside him...


Victor Hades-"Do you remember the first time we met inside the ring, Jesse? Do you remember that remark you made in one of your flashy-company branded, long-winded boring promos? The one about my choice of time and place for cutting a promo, about my style and the way I do things? Do you remember the insults you made, or rather your "attempts" to insult me? I thought for old-time sake it would be nice to..."re-visit" such a place, in honor of our little 'reunion' you could say."

Victor smirks, reaching up running his cold fingertips back through his thick black dreadlocks, exhaling carefully as he glares down towards the camera.

Victor Hades-"You know-I'd say you've gone from rap artist to choke artist, wait-no Jesse, you aren’t even good enough for that. You climbed so high in your early career-you had actually had the wrestling world fooled you were going to explode to the top. Then procrastination and laziness settled in, your thick skull let your ego inflate just a little, and pretty soon you floated back down to the bottom. Down-spiraling your way to the very pit of everyone's stomach, as you know we call this the "John Green" point of your career..."

Victor pauses.

Victor Hades-"'Biggest declining career in the history of professional wrestling' would be the best way to put it, and that's not including how quickly you dropped that World title in the EWC. We don't hate you because you won the big one 2 years ago, we hate you because you think selling t-shirts are more important that winning. We hate you Jesse, because you've sold yourself out. And nobody likes a prostitute, but after sitting here throughout the past few years and watching how many bimbos, dumb blondes, strippers, and crackwhore of managers you've gone through-I'd say that about fits the description. That doesn't sound like the description of a World Heavyweight Champion to me-then again; you never did make a good champion. You see Jesse, the fucking day you win the World Heavyweight Championship again, is the day my Social Security-expires."

Victor slowly shakes his head, a bit disappointed at Nunez's career sky-rocketing to the top only to run on fumes and plummet back down to crash through the ground.

Victor Hades-"Face it Jesse, you've fallen far below the likes of me and I've ultimately surpassed you in every way, whether you like it or not. Am I to truly be intimidated by someone who continues to "wave" his hand around in his face, someone who much like a mentally-handicapped child screams "You can't see me"? I tell you what Jesse, go ahead and wave your hand in front of your face, because "I can't see" the wrestler you once were. I’m only looking past the piece of shit that now stands in my way.."

"The X-Division champion gone reigning United States Champion straight to the biggest paperweight World Champion, and you call that a legendary career to be proud of? You were nothing-you BECAME NOTHING in the EWC, yet you sat there week after week flapping your mouth about how your "friends" and "amigos" had your back and you were truly a part of what they were. That each and every one of them respected you and would have your back if you were ever in trouble, are you fucking kidding me? FORCE? FEAR? Impact Players? PLEASE don't make me fucking laugh. Allow me to shine some light on the subject Jesse, to refresh your memory and tell you how it really was. They thought nothing of you in case you couldn’t SEE that, hell...other groups wanted nothing to do with you then. Don’t you remember your "friend’s" death? I remember it quite well because, well not a single motherfucker from either side came to visit your sorry ass. In the end you were completely alone Jesse and we all saw you for what you truly are...a fucking nobody pal."

"You still sit around here in the APW as the rotting polluted air still lingering on this brand that everyone is sick and fucking tire of. While I’m the breath of fresh air here to flush you out, because clearly Jesse you can SEE no one cares you exist here anymore. We all can’t be wrong can we? You may think back in those EWC days being Saint's errand boy made you 'somebody', that getting booked in the "Main-Event" made you talented. When in reality they had no other option but to USE you to push people like Level-One, CrazyMan, Amy Rosen, Beth Harte, and Deniro. You never were a caliber of the wrestlers they were, not by a long-fucking shot buck-o, and you can quote me on that. But I can understand your reasons for wanting to come here to a place like the APW, who wouldn't grow tired of getting their ass beat down by Moses Lake, BDC, and Shadow Man and now Level One, and Pence Weatherlight, and Biggs, and the curtain-jerking jobbing sacks of shit in this business."

"You see Jesse-in my world talk is fucking cheap, I know this because I've watched you throughout my career. I watched you rise and I watched you crumble back down to your demise, now look at you. Always bringing up the past no matter who, what, or where the battle is raging on, now you go out every night to show the world how badly you're getting your ass kicked in the present. Clearly you can't hear too well at all then Jesse, because I've lost count of how many people have tried telling you, how many have tried beating it into you, now I've found the solution. Forcing you to finally SHUT that crater-sized hole of a mouth you have by doing one simple thing, beating you into that casket and putting you six-feet under."

"You've become by default and clearly definition the carbon copy of a sell-out, illiterate, self-obsessed, shitty rapper without in-ring skill. The only difference between you and that horrible-acting, shitty excuse for a wrestler John Cena is...he gets PAID to look like shit. Meanwhile you-you still remain the rubbish-like gum stuck to APW’s shoe, no matter how hard you try you just can't get it off. You haven’t done shit in years; and every single week, month after month you can be found spitting out useless, pointless, meaningless, BULLSHIT documentation over it again and again, like anyone cares—never less wants to bothering remembering. You won the EWC championship, the climax of your entire merchandised career, you beat Moses Lake, and you burnt BDC’S brother alive. That is the story of your entire career right there, summed up to every last detail that even fucking matters to anyone-which in this case pal...it no longer does."

Pauses, chuckling audibly to himself over the joke that is Jesse Nunez's career.

"Face it the only skill you can possess anymore, is selling crappy sweatshirts to fat ten-year old boys to cover up their bitch tits, and kids who chug nail-polish remover obsessing over you only to mistake you for John Cena. The age-range of what little fan-base you hold ranges from kindergarten to grade school, kids who don't know how to separate the difference between SHIT and fucking Phenomenal. I will admit though Jesse-I will admit there was indeed a time when I couldn't hold back, a time when I could resist and bought myself a brand new Jesse Nunez t-shirt. The locker room was out of toilet paper and I needed something to wipe my ass with."

"I want nothing from you except your pathological-lying bloodied ass lying in the middle of the ring, with me standing victorious over you. What more is there to take from you that anyone hasn’t already taken? Your pride, your integrity, your dignity, your so-called "respect", which leaves me to believe there, is nothing left to take from you Jesse. So you keep your threesomes, you keep the new girlfriend that you seem to get every week; you keep your stupid little fucking basket ball games, you keep your repetitive flashbacks that you constantly spout on about – week after week – month after month – over, and over, and over again. You keep your rapping, your tough guy image, your merchandise, your managers, your utter lack of vocabulary, your training segments, your same, tired old bullshit that you’ve relied on for so long, and you keep your dreams of someday becoming a World Champion here or in the EWC, because that’s all you’ve got Nunez – empty dreams."

"It's rather amusing despite your accomplishments and everything you've ever seemed to achieve throughout your career, I'm still considered superior to you than all those combined. You much like your good ol' buddy Chris "BDC" Defoe are not so different you see, it's literally impossible to teach any old dog new tricks. For you that's almost the case yet it's not the only problem you're enduring, you Jesse are simply the fucking retarded "one-trick" pony caught in your own ego. You're so caught up in your past you've buried yourself deep, deep enough to say you'll never reach the success you once had in the EWC."

Victor pauses once more, looking to the open grave he's dug over the past few days with a long, sadistic smile.

Victor Hades-"Shame you'll never feel that relief, that sensation of accomplishment, the feeling of all your hard work paid off. That recognition you work so hard work, and of course all the respect you worked so hard to earn. You'll never get it Jesse, not you, not the "old" Jesse Nunez, not even your long-buffet line of STD-infested girlfriends and managers. All the sweat you dripped, all that blood you’ve spilt; all those tears you’ve cried, all of those bones you broke, all those fucking championships you won-no longer matters...it means...nothing. Come One night in Hell, I'll make sure you're forgotten, erased from the books, wiped from existance, you Jesse Nunez-won't have any place in history. Because that's exactly what you'll be-from here til...well..."

Victor turns glancing to the open grave.

Victor Hades-"Til I've given you the dirt-nap you so deserve, but don't worry...you can scream all you want...we won't hear you."

[ Fade. ]

Get some

You want to disrespect me
You little fucking punk?
Everything I've done
To be who I am
As far as I've come
I'll slap you so fucking hard
It'll feel like you kissed a freight train
Fuck you

Do you take me for a fool?
How's it feel to be a tool?
Talk your shit behind my back
See to me your just a cancer
The time has come to you some
Motherfucker war is the answer