Foreshock

[Slade "The Main Man" Craven]

[glow=darkgreen,9,200]THEN...[/glow]

It wasn’t long ago that Slade broke into his former tag partner’s hotel room and stole all his lore. Slade betrayed his best friend and Shadow let him have it on Overdrive. Shadow punched Slade in the face and tried to throw down with “The Main Man.” Finally fed up with everyone, Shadow turned and began attacking any Megastar who caught his attention. So Slade got the hell out of Dodge.

“So what do I owe the late night rendezvous?” Toothpick Vick told Slade back on Independence Day.

Slade tossed Vick the manila envelope containing reports and pictures. It was the start of Slade’s research.

“Need some information,” Slade said.

Then he tossed the fat, tar-lunged troll a white envelope. The greedy hobgoblin of a human snatched the envelope out of the air. Only bulbous lower body protruded from the darkness. He laughs. It’s a stomach curdling laugh.

“Hey kid… You dig deep like this and you don’t know what kind of things you’ll dredge up.”

In present day, Slade drove his Firebird down the highway. In his passenger seat sat the folders containing all of his and Shadow’s research, on top of that sat his journal. Slade knew he was in way over his head and that he was about to dive deeper. He tried not to let it bother him. His radio deafened him with music as he stayed focused on the road. Slade’s sunglasses shielded his eyes from the first rays of the morning sun. The Firebird looked so beautiful in daylight; it was almost a beautiful as the sunrise. Slade smiled, his white teeth shined too. He liked the sunrise, it helped. Outside, Slade rode his White Phoenix past a sign that read “Welcome to Nebraska.”

Aug 21th, 2012 I’m cursed. That’s not an assumption, it’s a fact. I’m not the only one. Steve’s cursed too, just in a different way. 30 years ago something visited Steve at his house in Dallas, Texas. Whatever walked his walls that fateful night started a fire that consumed Steve’s parents, he was five. Whatever sought him then is now back. I’m heading to Vick’s. Stacy told me that she found someone who might be able to help. Word is the guy can track anything. I plan to give him Steve’s research. Then, once this guy finds this thing, I plan to kill it. As soon as I figured out what we were hunting, I knew there were only one or two things in the universe that could snuff it out. Luckily I had a lead on one of those. Sometime in the early nineteenth century, Samuel Colt got hold of a knife. They call it cursed. So am I.

[glow=darkgreen,9,200]NOW...[/glow]

It felt weird wearing his leather jacket outside in the middle of August. Slade didn’t feel weird in a bad way. He loved the feeling of that polyester interior of a Bettie Page cartoon dancing in a flaming martini glass. Slade purchased this coat years ago, back when Hot Topic wasn’t gay to shop at. He wore it all through high school, pissing off the security guards at his south Dallas High School. It was a brilliant school in a bad part of town, police were always there. Crime in Dallas back in the 90s was just as bad as it is today. Slade treasured this jacket, he’d die in it.

Vick’s Bar shouldn’t be open at this hour. Stacy and her sister were doing this as a favor. Craven crossed the gravel parking lot. It looked newer than the lonely dirt road that went by this place lost in the middle of nowhere. Yet every night, Vick’s was packed. The old man barely came down here anymore. It was a miracle the multi cancer ridden man was still breathing.

Craven thought about the information he had tucked under his coat. Shadow was looking for him. Stacy told him that Shadow called and said he was still in California; or so Slade hoped. The morning breeze kissed Slade’s cheek as he reached the front door. He pulled it open and stepped inside.

“Dead man walking,” Some guy sporting a mullet sitting at the bar says.

Slade rolled his eyes. All he could think was how bad it was other people knew. This meant at any time, anyone around him could tell Shadow where Slade was. That did not sit well with “The Main Man.” Stacy handed the skinny denim wearing hillbilly a PBR as Slade walked up to the bar. There were a few other people there eating breakfast. Vick’s had a spare room or two for people could throw up a cot, with a fee of course. Word was, there were a few of those places around here. Vick’s was more off the beaten path. Slade looked at the Cuckoo clock on the wall. It wasn’t even nine AM and they were severing booze. He figured that was probably illegal. Slade ignored the others eating their breakfasts and hoped they ignored him too. As he reached the bar, Slade set his folders down and took a seat. Mullet was sitting at the base of the ‘L’ shaped bar while Slade sat all the way at the tip. After a moment, Stacy brought out a plate of eggs and gravy. She set it in front of Mullet and finally approached Slade.

“How was the drive in?” She asked him quietly.

Slade nodded and spoke quietly. “It was good. Any word from him?”

“You’re old partner or the boss?” Stacy quipped.

Slade didn’t have time for games. “Shadow, he been around here?”

“I told you; last I heard he was still in California. I don’t think he’s chasing you. He knows where you will be. He’s waiting.”

“Great,” Slade said sarcastically. “Can I get a sweet tea?”

She shook her head in pity and walked away. Slade’s meeting was at nine, he drummed his fingers on the folder while he waited. Stacy brought him back his drink and set it on the coaster. The place made good sweet tea, but Slade’s was better. He patiently waited as he sipped his beverage. Craven didn’t know this guy Miles but word was the man was a genius. Slade could use a genius right now. All those years getting his ass kicked he wondered if he had any intelligence left. Slade figured Miles was the other mullet sitting at the bar. It only made sense.

The Cuckoo clock began to chime. Slade’s eyes glanced up and stared at it. The guy at the end of the bar finished chugging his beer his plate was scraped clean. He took a deep breath after setting down the empty bottle of Pabst.

“Ehhurrpp.” He belched. Slade was impressed. Mullet tapped the bar twice, “I’ll have my secretary buzz you in.”

Slade was now positive this was Miles. “The Main Man” liked his style. Craven was about to get up when Miles holds up his hand halting Slade.

“Hey Stacy,” Miles called to her.

She rolled her eyes and gave Miles a pissed off look. Finally she says with a monotonous voice, “Buzz.”

Slade chuckled as he got up, walked over to the corner of the bar and took a seat.

“Miles.”

“Slade ‘The Main Man’ Craven.”

Slade was a little surprised. Only a few hunters knew about his wrestling cover. He never went by Slade when he was on the job. He also kept his hair colors natural and dressed differently. It was probably the jacket. Fans loved the jacket. Still, the fact Slade was never noticed showed how people really never expect criminals to hide in plain sight. Craven was a criminal, so was Robin Hood.

“Alright, no foreplay,” Slade stated. “Stacy here tells me you can do just about anything with a computer. This is all my research.”

“That you stole,” Miles threw in.

Slade stumbled for a second, “Yeah.” He continued, “Let’s see what you can make of it.”

Craven slid the folders down the bar. Stacy came and cleared Miles’ plate and gave him another opened bottle of beer. Miles ran his hands through his mullet as he opened the first folder and started looking at the police reports, some showed pictures of a burnt up house. Another report was newer; it had pictures of the accident off interstate 80. Miles flipped open another folder. This one had weather patterns some were old others were new.

“This isn’t a bad job,” Miles complimented as he unfolded a map from 1982. There were several drawings and notes on the old map of Dallas, Texas.

“Well,” Slade felt slighted. “I did some of it too.”

Miles gave Slade a sideways look, “Of course you did.”

The phone by the register rang loudly. Everyone looked over as Stacy picked up the line.

“Vick’s Bar” she said. “No... No, work your drama out somewhere else asshole.”

The few people in the bar stare at her as she hung up the line. For a second she made eye contact with everyone else in the room.

“Ex-boyfriend,” she said as she walked back toward Slade and Miles.

Slade’s attention returned to Miles and the research.

“So what do you think?” Slade asked him, “Can you do anything with it?”

Miles had a thoughtful look on his face. “Well that depends on what you’re looking for. How to track it...”

“I want to know where he’s going to be next.” Slade interrupted.

“That’s doable,” Miles nodded, “If he’s going to be around anywhere that is.”

“And a name, if possible.” Slade said.

Miles raises his eyebrows. "Just itchen to get scratched huh?" He pondered for a second. “Give me twenty four hours.”

It was Slade’s turn to nod. “I’ll see you in the morning then.” Slade got up and started heading for the door. “Stacy, keep the tab open, I’ll settle up when I get back.”

Now she nodded as Slade headed out. He left his and Shadow’s research there in the capable hands of the Mullet sporting genius named Miles. Slade had a plan, it was probably the dumbest plan he ever had.

Unlike the bar, the morning air was still chilly. With his head down, Slade walked toward the Firebird. He kept going over everything in his mind again as he opened the door and took a seat behind the wheel. Looking to his left, Slade saw that wooden box. Finally he reached over, lifted it up and set the box in his lap. Craven took a deep breath and opened the lid. Inside sat a dagger. It had an eight inch blade with markings etched into the metal. The handle was carved out of wood which Slade suspected was White oak, the hilt was mounted to the handle perfectly. It was a wonderful example of craftsmanship. Slade pulled a lot of strings to find this knife. He sold his house, his truck and just about everything else to his name just to pay everyone off. It better be worth it, they said it could kill demons. Craven looked at the blade, the morning sun glistened off the razor sharp edge and reflected in his eyes. Then Slade had an unexpected though: maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

---

The next morning Slade pulled back into the parking lot. As the engine continued to idle, Slade sat there talking on his cell phone. The box was put away and now a personal video camera and tripod sat in the passenger seat. He’d slept in the car overnight. Craven kept the engine running while he spoke.

“Yeah Caleb. My flight is in a few hours. I can’t thank you enough for this.”

He paused while Caleb spoke to him on the other end of the line. The plan was simple. Slade was flying into San Diego where he would meet up with Caleb. But Slade couldn’t carry on a commercial flight though. Luckily a friend was going to take him. Slade hated flying. He was not happy about having to take a small aircraft from Nebraska to San Diego. Due to the overflow of work, a bunch of hunters had set up shop in along the Pacific Coast, Caleb was one of them. He usually hung around Lincoln about two hours away from Vick’s or Harvelle’s. Slade didn’t get along with Jo so he never went to the Roadhouse anymore.

“I promise,” Slade swore, trying to forget his anxiety. “I will do everything I can.”

He got quiet again. Caleb was speaking. Slade knew that thing wanted Shadow, so he was going to play a little “Pin the Tail on the Donkey.” Slade planned to take Shadow’s Camaro for a spin around Los Angeles and bring Blue Eyes to him. Since Shadow was lying low, Slade would draw it out and finish it. Plus Shadow would be looking for Slade’s Firebird: two birds with one stone. He knew he could pull it off. He hoped he could, anyway.

“Alright, sir. Well, I got to run. I’ll see you tonight.”

Caleb ended the call. Slade sat there for another moment and scrolled through his contacts list. Shadow’s cell phone number stared to him through the tiny LED screen. He wanted to call his best friend. Slade wanted it to be alright, but there was only one way to make that happen. He knew Shadow wouldn’t understand, maybe when this was all over Shadow finally would. Craven shut off the ignition and got out of the car. Miles texted him about an hour before, told him the job was done. Slade hoped for good news. The air felt warmer as he approached the front door. Only Miles and Stacy were inside. Everyone else was gone.

“Party’s over,” Miles said when he turns to look at Slade as Craven walked through the door. “Let’s get down to business.” He had a weather map in his left hand, and his homemade laptop sat on the bar counter. God knows how much beer he drank in the past twenty four hours.

“Good to see you again Miles.” Craven said to him as he walked up and re-took a seat at the bar. “I hear you have some news, it’s good I hope.”

“No sir,” Miles said as he killed Slade’s buzz. “These omens you’ve been tracking, they all point somewhere nobody wants to remember or write about. They’re all high tier.” Miles replied.

“And?” Slade asked like it didn’t bother him. Deep down, it really did.

“Skipping the foreplay again? Alright, I got lightning storms in Mississippi, Texas, and California.”

Slade remembered hearing about those when A.P.W. toured the south.

“I got falling flocks.”

“Falling flocks? What the hell does that mean?”

“Falling Flocks, man. Bird deaths; like a plague that just wipes them out. No one has ever found a reason.” Miles explained as he took a swig of his PBR. Slade was listening intently. “Scientists have researched it for years. Leave it to me to finally figure out why. And then last but not least, unexplained violent outbursts.”

Slade thought for a moment. He thought about how Shadow has brutalized his competition in the past weeks. Miles could see the wheel in Slade’s head turning.

“Don’t tell me I have to explain the ‘unexplainable’ too.”

Craven shakes his head. He lets off a half hearted smile. “No, I think I understand that one.”

“Actually I don’t think you do.” Miles said curtly. “This thing has been causing bad vibes all over the world not just in the hot zones. The birds were isolated to Texas and Mississippi. Lately lightning storms are the only thing popping up in California.”

“So what does it all mean? Is he going to be there?”

“If you ask me,” Miles said redundantly. “He’s on his way to watch your match.”

Craven nodded solemnly. He let it all sink in, every word. Each one made him feel worse than the last. There was only one question left to ask.

“Did you get a name?”

Miles stared at him. Then he let out a sigh. “Name and everything you’ll need.” He passed Slade a slip of paper. As Craven reached over and took it, Miles said. “Go get yourself killed.”

Slade slipped the list into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. It was the last of his cash. He set it on the bar with the keys to his car. As he thumbed through the greenbacks he pulled out a few twenties.

“Stacy, can you call me a cab to take me to the airfield?”

She put her hand out over his, shielding his money. Stacy didn’t like this. “I’ll drive you.”

Their eyes met. Slade felt the warmth in her eyes. He almost didn’t want to go through with it. It was obvious, Stacy didn’t want him to. But Slade knew, in the end they’d all die bloody. What made Slade any better than the rest? They sat there for a moment before Miles broke the silence as he cracked open another beer.

“Kick it in the ass, Craven,” Miles toasted to him.

Stacy sat shot glass in front of Slade. She poured him a healthy shot of milk and Miles did a spit take.

“He doesn’t drink.” Stacy told him without having to be asked.

She pours herself a shot of whiskey and they both raise their glasses as Miles raises his bottle again.

“Kick it in the ass.” They all said at once before taking a drink and slammed their respective beverage holder down on the bar top.

---

Video Log: Tuesday Aug 21st, 2012

The scene opens with a focus on the passenger side front end of Slade’s white firebird. Behind him the sun has already climbed high in the sky. It lights up the paint job. The golden bird that covers the hood burns in the daylight. Slade walks into view, still wearing his leather jacket. He leans against the car and waves to the camera.

We’ll I’m recording this here since I can’t be in L.A. right now. I know, I know there was a press conference today for Shockwave, President Jeff is going to be pissed I missed it but oh well. Although, I could never abandon the millions of register voters of this great CraveNation.

There is only one way to go through life, and that’s with honesty. I’ve lied in the past and there is nothing that I can do about that. No, Slade Craven was not the hero when he first started. I tried, I really did. I took on the establishment but everyone thought I was bought and paid for, a show puppet to appease the people. For a while, I tried to hide from my past. Then one day I finally embraced it. Delikado is the only other person in this match I think who understands the satisfaction you can get from taking everything. He’s like a plague, a pestilence cursed upon the world. I was that way once. That’s when I met Shadow. And we were destined for tag team greatness. So we took it. Every belt, every match we always ripped victory from the hands of our opponents, whether we deserved it or not.

It’s almost sickening to want that again. I could never do it, though. That’s a dark road to walk down. But I understand. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It twisted the A.K.A. into something no one has ever seen before once. It can warp someone’s mind and make them a monster. Pulling yourself from that abysmal swamp is not easy. You have to fight the temptations presented at every corner. You struggle and strive while seeking atonement and when you’re finally ready to fight your demon you don’t have the strength to hold yourself upright.

The human soul is an amazing thing. It’s the light that makes each and every one of us special. The perseverance provided by the human soul is what allows us to overcome adversity and vanquish evil. A lot of people forget that. They think that sometimes people are a fluke, then comes the upset; the shocking revelation that shakes the very ground beneath your feet. Sometimes, fate intervenes; it did with me once. It saved me from the darkest recesses of my own mind. I was an avalanche. The A.K.A. was an avalanche. We barreled through our opponents together. But with each empty achievement, I felt broken. Then one day I was made whole again.

It took me awhile to realize it, but it was punishment. For four years I’ve lived in this fantasy, I’ve been sleeping with a veil over my eyes. It wasn’t until I struck out on my own that I was able to finally see it. Shadow and I started teaming back in a place called EEW. We’d known each other for years though. He was this powerhouse of brutality. I offered him the opportunity to take on the world with the A.K.A. and he accepted. For a long time, I’ve wondered which of us sold our soul to get where we are. Now I fear it’s me. And apparently my bill has come due or at least it did a few years back.

When I came back to A.P.W. I was like new again. Because of that, President Jeff put us on Overdrive. When Meltdown opened Shadow and I both asked to go there, but we got told no. Then I found out Shadow was selected to go, not Slade. That’s when I realized I was meant to bare this burden alone until I am finally forgiven.

Since that day, President Jeff has booked me in blockbuster after blockbuster. I went head to head with Rebel. Next the Second Chance ladder match took Overdrive to another level. But like just about every match before it, I didn’t win. No matter how much of my heart I threw into it, I couldn’t succeed. I could blame those loses on a bunch of things, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t seize the opportunities present to me at the time.

However, things changed after that, or so I thought. I got to repay Mark Mania for putting me through a table. Not costing me the Ladder match. There’s no reason saying that. He put me through a table and that hurt like hell. So I kicked his ass for it, cleaned the slate. After that I got to do the same to Biggs. We didn’t clean the slate, I just kicked his ass. But I fell prone to the illusion. I tried to hide it from myself but those victories were as hollow as the rest. That’s when I knew...

It’s my punishment, you see and this is my confession. To all my fans, to everyone I stand for: You cheer for me, call for me, long to see me finally grab on to the side of the cliff to cease my fall. You thought I had finally done so when I sparked those in those two matches. It didn’t happen, it was all a lie.

The truth came out the following week when C.J. Gates obliterated “The Main Man.” It was torture. Moreover, it was the most vicious and sadistic kind. It was being eaten alive, being devoured by the masses. As much as I love you people they’ve made this our Hell. Gorging yourselves on “The Main Man” week in, week out. Every match since that night, you’ll bite and tear, chomping at the bit when you cheer and chant just to see it one more time. And then when the match is over there is almost nothing left.

You look upon the ring and you see the carnage. You see how they sliced and carved me to the bone and then I am made whole once more. Prometheus had it easy. Now they are preparing to feed me to you all over again. This time I’m being served scrambled. And once again, everyone will cheer, they will beckon and I will once more be served to the people. The definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting the different results.

So now you’re asking yourself, “Why Slade? Why would you say this?” Because it’s the truth. They want me to give in to the darkness. They want me on their side, so they developed the most sadistic torture yet. Drive me to hate you all.

But I don’t. How could “The Main Man,” give up on the people who love him so much, he couldn’t. I won’t. The human soul is unstoppable. It’s was God’s gift to this planet and now it’s become lost. But maybe, at Shockwave Slade Craven can reach into his heart and release the strength and light of the human soul one last time.

You may ask yourself. What is Slade going to do to change the outcome? How will he alter his style to make this different? I won’t. I’m going to do the exact same thing I’ve done every night before this. Because Slade has done everything, he has tried everything he can without going through that black door. I refuse to give in. I’m living proof that the human soul can overcome evil. I refuse to go back down that road. And I will do anything for the people. I will give you a reason to cheer. I have to prove why I belong on Overdrive. I’m the one who wants this the most.

But I don’t want this for me. I want to give this back to the people. I will never stop fighting. I shall overcome. Everyone else in this scramble is doing this for themselves. CJ and Saint, they both want this to prove who they are. That’s a good reason to want this but it’s not enough. Mark Mania needs to preserve his image and Delikado he just wants it because he already has it. It makes him feel special and important when the reality is; he’s as insignificant at the other three. Although they don’t see themselves that way, they all think that I am. Actually, they don’t think anything of me at all. I don’t even exist to them. That’s why I can win this. It’s why I will win this.

When CJ Gated destroyed me on Overdrive a few weeks back, I was pretty stung. I had just gone through Mark Mania and Biggs and I was on cloud nine. Gates crashed my party. Not when he stole the win, but when I got planted twice in a row and cast aside. Gates did something I won’t do. He gave in. One by one they will all succumb.

Gates, you’re susceptible to Greed. You’ve been consumed by it. You finally beat Keaton Saint to get your Overdrive title shot and then you blew it. Sooner or later you will do it again. You know it’s easier and you want gold. Greed also has Mark Mania by the twins too. But because Mark’s image is that important to him, he gives in to Pride. So does Keaton Saint. That man has to be the best. Why can’t he just be happy being great? The man can wrestle. I respected that. Pride comes before the fall. As for Delikado, that socio-psychopath swims with them all. The man sweats sin. He’s practically the Devil on Earth. You’re all serpents. Now I’m not perfect either. I’ll admit, everyone has their demons, even me. Mine’s Wrath. I plan to purge myself of it at Shockwave.

Don’t worry, I’m going to save all ya’ll too. I will rescue you from the greed and corruption. No one is beyond saving, even Delikado. A true hero, a righteous man will not break upon the block. I will succeed at Shockwave, I have to. It only takes three seconds and I know that somewhere inside me, I have the strength to master my destiny for three measly seconds. I’ve done it before. I have seen miracles and I have seen magic. When the body and soul unite, it’s more powerful than both of those combined. That’s going to happen at Shockwave, because everyone in this match will become a “champion” at some point. There’s too much time not to. Whether or not I use those three seconds to score the pin fall or kick out at the last second is irrelevant. When the moment arrives, I will seize it, because that’s what a true champion does.

I’ll win this belt with integrity and I will live up to the title “Overdrive Champion,” emphasis on Overdrive. There is no one more extreme than “The Main Man.” Once you’ve been thrown fifteen feet off everything, and your body has been beaten, bludgeoned, battered, and oh let’s not forget set ablaze, you realize you can just about outlast anything. The human soul was made to outlast Death, to survive beyond the stretches of time, fifteen minutes isn’t anything at all.

That’s right, fifteen minutes. That’s the longest amount of time I could be in this match. Who knows, I could draw the last spot and only come in with five minutes to pull off the unimaginable. Still, I’d be fresh that whole time. It’s pressure. I eat that for breakfast. All it will take is three seconds. I doubt the others have the constitution to put everything on the line in order to make it happen. That’s what I’m doing.

Sometimes you have to go all in and risk everything. If you’re not dying for something, you’ll live for nothing. I live for the people, I’d die for them. That’s why Slade Craven is in this match. “The Main Man” will never die, no matter how hard you try to break him; he will never give in. Although sooner or later, he will make you rue the day you stood in his way. So put me back up on the block. I’m ready. Let’s do this.