Life is Cruel: "A Cold War."

[Victor Hades]

Life is Cruel:
"A Cold War"

I hate this audience
Regardless of applaudience
Like to take you away
Burn in piles of hate

I hate the talent here
So dull and so full of fear
I'll beat you all to the punch
With an axe and a hack to the guts

I'll take the microphone stand
Run it through your neck
Cut off both your hands

Is this thing even fucking on?
Are you fucking deaf?
Or just too scared to run?

Hades Journal:
Friday-December 18, 2009


I'm going to hurt him.
I'm going to hurt him.
I'm going to hurt him.
I'm going to fucking kill him.

"I've felt a change begin to stir inside me, my voice has even begun to change...it has more pain inside of it. Most people say that men hide their emotions, well-I fucking bury mine. I’ve come to no longer care for anyone or any living or breathing thing on this god-forsaken place, I’m only looking out for me here on out, me and no one else. I’m tired of feeling I still have to prove anything to these people, that I’m worthy, that I’m more than just a name, that I am the real fucking deal. I’m practically the Devil in the fucking flesh I’m so sadistic, my methods are flawless, my promos are venomous, my strength is limitless, and my ring presence is so unmatched that even Rampage Jackson would shit himself."

"Tonight I face a man JACKASS who believes he has everything needed to succeed, but he is wrong-DEAD fucking wrong. He does not carry the necessary skill that one must carry; the arsenal one such as me brings to the table like it’s a fucking Thanksgiving dinner."

PRESENCE

Ring presence means you carry yourself like you are the biggest, meanest, most ruthless dog in the kennel. The big dog that takes the other dog's bones like they aren’t gonna do shit about it. Now days it doesn’t always matter if you're the smartest wrestler, or the most talented, if you don't carry yourself like you're the baddest in the ring, all of those skills and brain cells don't mean shit. Big brains don't prepare you for wailing into the biggest and most beloved fan-favorite superstar in an arena with 20,000 fans screaming at you. Beating that opponent to a bruised, battered, and bloody mess while thousands of those people scream and boo at you. Meanwhile fellow workers, employees, and talent continue to mean-mug and shoot cold stares at you in the locker room before the show. Ring presence means walking into the enemy's yard like they can't do shit to you...Shadow doesn’t carry that trait.

THE HUNGER

Having the hunger is almost the same as the thirst, the thirst is simply that mind-set focused on one and only one thing-BLOOD. Regardless of the prize, what lay at stake, or any possible outcome, you ride into each and every match looking to gut your opponent open like a stuffed pig. The HUNGER is defined as wanting it, and wanting it bad, Shadow is far from hungry at this point. I’ve seen it and I’ll explain why-Shadow has been feeding himself off scraps. Leftovers from that Overdrive Championship that Biggs has been toying him with since day one. It’s like watching someone string a ball of yarn over a kitten’s face, and watching them swat at it trying to take it. So with that being said, who does that make the harmless little fucking kitten? Shadow is nothing close to hungry, being hungry is like going after it like a starved pit-bull. Mauling, tearing, clawing, and biting your way through anything that separates you from what you desire most. I’m hungry like a prisoner held in a refugee camp, and nothing is going to deny me what I’m craving for...victory and a long list of causalities.

MIND CAPACITY

Carrying the mind capacity and intelligence of a true wrestling superstar, simply means this- know EXACTLY what the fuck you are getting yourself into at all times. Example: DO NOT pull a Jesse Nunez.

CONTROL

Though the critics may deem me as simply out of control, it does not mean I do not possess such a skill. Control requires intellect, which simply means control is all about letting stupid motherfuckers who try to step in your yard know they do NOT belong there. Control means if dip-shit wanna-be’s try to spit on your reputation, your past success, your accomplishments, EVERYTHING you’ve sacrificed for. Control is about getting into that poor son of a bitch’s head, regardless of who they are or where they came from, it’s about getting right in their face and letting them know without being told or waiting for permission. Control is about setting the tone, raising the bar, control is about leadership, and it’s about showing people how it is simply fucking done.

RESPECT

If you can spell it you can clearly say the fucking word, so CLEARLY you understand it’s meaning.

And last but not least...

CHARISMA

Creativity, the will-power, the entertainment factor-charisma could be having the whole world love you or utterly hating every fiber of you... Charisma is selling out seats; charisma is having fans sitting at home wanting to strangle you through a flat-screen television set. Charisma is having your face busted wide open and having the entire world on their seats watching.

"Tonight, I face a behemoth, an abomination, a giant, a monstrosity like myself in a way, tonight I go the distance to face a man standing directly in my way. A man I hold no sympathy, no regard, no respect, and utterly no single-fucking care in the world for. A man who calls himself an unstoppable force, a “wrestler”, this man is no wrestler! This is a man dressed like a 90’s Heavy Metal singer-slash beach bum wrapped in safety pads and plastic leather... and I’m supposed to be intimidated...by THAT? No, tonight I end this charade and take another step further up the mountain, tonight I bring down the big man, because I am the motherfucking Titan of Torment. Tonight I face a man who has nothing but a name, a name which will soon be forgotten..."

"Tonight, paybacks a bitch..."

Another cold and frightening chill had awakened him from a dead sleep as he sat up quickly along a couch in his hotel room, staring through the darkness and shadow. Only to realize it was just another bad dream causing him this lack of rest, a great amount of rest he would soon be in need of before his match at Christmas Chaos. Sweat carefully trickling down his face drips from his thick bearded chin and onto his tight chest, wiping his hand down his face slowly as he exhales. Could it be that this battle with inner demons and tormenting encounters, all simply be a wake up call? Swaying his legs as he shifts to the edge of the couch, Victor rests his condensate-covered face into the palms of his hands. Trying to push the haunting images out of the back of his mind, as he finally lifts himself from the couch and begins to dress…

Carefully he slips on a crimson red long-sleeved tight fit shirt, staring intently across the room upon a mirror. Fixed on his own reflection, as his mind begins portraying games, illuminating Shadow's reflection in place of his own as his eyes now narrow…. Looking back at the mere mirage his mind was picturing before him, a man who still believes he's superior in his mind. A man who became so offended by a simple encounter, and let it tear him apart from the inside out. This man who believes he knows every inch of his opponent, he's willing to speak so presumptuously about a man he hardly knows. Victor wasn't upset over the ignorant verbal attacks, nor was he offended by the child-like pathetic insults or stereotypical jokes. This was a battle simply with the intention to silence the lesser man, to bring a final conclusion to the madness which had been brewing.

Victor Hades-"First I've gotten under your skin, and torn you down to a lesser part of yourself..."

Victor carefully inches closer towards the mirror from across the room, curling his fingertips in one hand while buttoning a baggy khaki pair of worn down pants in the other... Holding a smug look upon his face at the thought this all started with Shadow crying over the fact Hades' gave him a simple threat...

Victor Hades-"Then, you get by me and your ego instantly sky-rockets and you believe yourself to be god's gift to wrestling... You truly are fucking pathetic..."

Hades smirks callously at the mirage he believes he's witnessing, as he stops a few inches from the mirror. Glaring a hole through the image before him as what appears to be "Shadow" only smirks back at him in the reflection.

Victor Hades-"Then you throw another insult and believe you've beaten me once more, yet your thick-skull seems to fail at functioning. In case you couldn't register what really happened, I simply had been outnumbered you feeble-minded fuck. I stood alone against you and you're wanna-be megastar redneck boyfriend, who walks and talks like Big-Gay Al."

Hades chuckles quietly as he leans closer to the mirror. Slade Craven was practically a mirror image of Shadow, both men so caught up on their own image they failed to see how far below they stood from the rest.

Victor Hades-"But you, you just don't have the spine nor the brain capacity to accept that you just can't rid of me. Because I simply will not quit, I simply will not stay down, and I simply will not...fucking...die. Because as long as I'm around, you'll never be anything more than a cocky piece of shit riding my coat-tails into the Main-Event. The only reason you're even getting a shed of spotlight in the first place, you did it chasing after Biggs and yet here you are."

Victor grins as he shoves his fingertips back through the dark strands of his hair and lifts his head, glaring back at the flickering image of Shadow now...

Victor Hades-"Maybe after you take a long look in the mirror, you'll finally see what you truly are. Because quite obviously, I'm the not one wearing leather pants, chasing men, and running around cracking homosexual jokes getting drunk with my male life-partner. So maybe I'll do you the favor at Christmas Chaos, and batter all of this into your fucking skull-"

Hades grumbles before viciously striking the mirror with a quick right hand followed by a left, shattering the mirror as a large spider-web-like crack covers the mirror... While he pants pitilessly for his own-well being, looking down at the crimson blood cracking through his skin and dripping to the floor...

Looking back at his own shattered reflection in the mirror a strange grin grows upon his face, as he steps away from the mirror and grabs his hooded jacket. Moving towards the door before stopping as his bloodied hand reaches the doorknob, peering over his shoulder to Angela sleeping peacefully. He could not understand how his actions had not awakened her, yet some part of him simply didn't seem to care anymore. A woman he'd hardly come to know who'd been caring for him, while he couldn't seem to believe what she meant to him?

Shaking his head as he rids of the mind-wandering thoughts, a strange chill slithered up his spine before turning the knob. Opening the door as he slips out of his hotel room leaving Angela behind, now was the time to concentrate on what truly mattered most...Christmas Chaos...or so he thought.

Walking several blocks down the road after leaving the hotel, he managed to find a secluded and quiet bar behind an old tattoo parlor and a Blockbuster Video store. The perfect place for him to be isolated by himself and to clear any other thoughts keeping him from maintaining his focus...

Bouncer-"How's it going tonight man?"

A bald, large, burly physique figured man standing at the door bellowed from a distance as Victor approached the bar with a nod. Slipping his hands from his coat pockets as he stepped inside, breathing into his hands cupped together to warm his body heat up.

Reaching the end of the bar as he removes his hood he mounts himself onto an empty stool, gesturing to the female bartender for a single beer. Victor wasn't quite the drinking type as other workers like Draven, the AKA and the O'Connor Brothers had often rumored to of been. Victor simply saw thriving on becoming intoxicated a fool's way of escaping reality for a mere few hours, instead of simply living and dealing with it.

The beautiful young woman came back minutes later with a friendly and warm smile, slowly taking Victor's money as he hands it over and walks away once more. Most of the locals had filled the opposite end of the bar for the night, either conversing with one another over jobs, marriage, and money, or battling it out in some drunk game of pool.

Female's Voice-"Well if it isn't the notorious cold-hearted bastard Victor Hades..."

A young, foxy, beautiful brunette tantalizes in a playful tone, walking up to Victor from a few feet away with a beer in hand. Her piercing and lovely green eyes glowing as they lock on his frame, flashing an alluring smile towards him as he peers over his left shoulder.

Victor Hades-"Sindy Black..."

Victor replies softly with a playful smirk of his own, as he turns along the barstool to face an old and familiar face he'd once known.

Sindy-"What do I owe the pleasure or torment of running into you around here, I'd almost say its been too long..."

Sindy and Victor at one time or in some cases several, had been lovers who seemed to have a knack for pleasing one another. Whether it'd be physical, or by hurting one another emotionally by toying with each other's emotions... Two very cold-hearted and twisted people falling in love, it almost had seemed like something popped out of a horror flick. They dated back to years after high-school having gotten one another in trouble, two maniacal and disturbed murderous sociopaths together.

A match made in Hell.

The last they'd seen one another was in the midst of a wild party a mutual friend had been throwing, just days before Victor's break in the EWC at the time. Where Victor had himself tangled up in a scuffle with a few intoxicated oafs, only to discover Sindy had slit their throats from ear to ear out in the field minutes later. The accusation was placed on Victor simply due to being witnessed scuffling with the two, while Sindy had been nowhere to be found. Victor simply took it as a way of Sindy finding an excuse to disappear for awhile, "nothing personal" of course which Victor had taken no offense to. Now here they were, eyes feeding upon one another as the 'tension' seemed to build...

Victor Hades-"I was looking for some alone time..."

Victor mutters quietly, before taking a slight sip from his bottled beer...

Sindy-"Then I guess we could use a little alone time together then, after all we do have a lot to catch up on."

Sindy replies mockingly with a slight grin along one side of her soft cheeks, as she takes the seat beside him and crosses her long legs. Allowing her left leg to wrap over her right and rest gently against his, as she too takes a small sip from her drink.

Victor Hades-"To a new, mysterious, and successful future then..."

Victor raises his drink, toasting almost to himself having the mind-set of tearing Shadow apart at Christmas Chaos. Losing was no longer an option, giving up was out of the question, victory was the only solution.

Sindy-"To reminiscing and starting a new chapter...tortured souls intertwined together again..."

Sindy clinks her bottle against Victor's with a seductive glance and smiles, as the two take a big gulp from their drinks...

A mysterious road ahead indeed...

[ To be continued... ]

[glow=red,2,300]Christmas Chaos 2009 Promo[/glow]

"Shadow...?! This guy keeps screaming'! He's paranoid. Quick! Someone get his ass another steroid!"-Victor Hades

[ Somewhere near Los Angeles, California... ]

The sparkling orange glow of the blazing and massive burning sun settles on the horizon far in the distance, as wildlife all around begins to calm. The footage appears to pan around a vast and well-stabled farmland stretching acres out into the open. As the camera moves carefully along a large wooden fencepost which brings in a new form, a tall figure leaning against the fence before the camera itself. Victor Hades with his tattooed forearms crossed over the fence line, staring past the camera lens and into the open scenery of the farm around him. Surrounded by farm animals of every kind, a large wooden red barn, and silos and machinery for productive purposes… Carefully he takes a short breath for the very address he has been preparing for, he lifts his dark and piercing eyes up to face the lens...

"I lost my match, you lost yours-but more importantly you lost something much more valuable to you than just the match, you lost the fucking Overdrive Championship you were so proud of. Have you stepped into the ring and faced a former APW World Heavyweight Champion, yet Shadow? One who has faced men far greater than you, a man who has ran in the Main-Event picture since signing to this company? I didn’t think so jackass, I’ve just barely begun my career here in APW and look at where I’ve gotten. Sure it’s certainly be a damn mess to get here, but that hasn’t stopped me or slowed me down along the fucking way now has it? No, I didn’t think so either-so before you start to bitch and moan on and on about that, stick a fucking sock down your throat for ten minutes and shut the hell up. Because quite frankly I’m very curious to know just one thing, if you can’t even so much as pin Biggs and retain your Overdrive Championship, what leaves you to expect any chances of beating me this time? Oh, you’ve done it once already- congratu-fucking-lations pal, you just got moved up to the head of the class."

Victor with no facial expression flashing upon his face slowly makes a sarcastic round of applause for Shadow. Ignorant yet arrogant mannered, he lifts the corner of his mouth to flash a callous smirk. Knowing Shadow's reach seems to have come up short of his desired possession.

"You see, had it not been for me making a fucking bloody scene on this roster since day one-you probably wouldn’t have gotten that title shot again. You wouldn’t be as recognized as you are right now, well other than being recognized as Biggs’ little-big bitch since you two start scrapping at each other. That isn’t the main focus here though, what matters is you and I going at it one more time and this time the stakes are a little higher. See this time a stipulation won’t change a thing; a stipulation is only going to give me more options on how painful I get to choose to whoop you’re Big Bird ass from one side of that cage to the other. This time I got a better understanding of what I’m up against, this time the seven-foot dumbass redneck standing in my way, is going down faster than the Jonas Brothers can hit puberty. Sure my start here in the APW isn’t as recognizable as my time in the EWC had been; true I have not made much success yet in the APW. Do not doubt me for a fool you son of a bitch, I know a loss when I feel one and the next one I will guarantee-no promise-no ASSURE will not be by the likes of you."

Pauses briefly.

"Shadow, let me make this perfectly clear and reasonable enough to speak in your low-level of intellect to understand, I do not give a pig’s flying ass if I’m hated in this company. Inside the ring, outside the ring, in the locker room- or in any way, shape, or form. I do NOT give a shit whether you or anyone else doesn’t share my taste in how I choose to do my business. Do not try to belittle me because it hasn’t worked for anyone else, you pig humping, inbred-loving, beer drinking, steroid pumping sack of shit. The only microphone skill you have is gay jokes, one-liner jokes, and high school name calling for a back-up incase your brain doesn’t process quick enough. Face it, you hate me because you know I’ve been right all along-that deep down I am better than you. In the ring, on the microphone, intellectually, and in any way you wish you could be. You sling dirt at my image because you have nothing else to spew from that shit-stained mouth of yours. Hell, even getting your asses kicked by a bunch of no-good for nothing beer-guzzling, vigilante-wanna-be Irish idiots didn’t help you realize that. Simple labels and name calling, that’s all you and your fat redneck companion there have at your disposal."

"This obsession you carry, this blinded rage you continue to burden, it’s only going to become a ball and chain that will weigh you down effortlessly before it buries you. This hopeless dream of “putting me in my place” and silencing me once and for all… I could tell you to ask Jesse Nunez if that worked for him throughout our battles over the years, but I don’t think he could hear you right now."

Grins slightly as he gently taps his foot against the surface of dirt beneath his black boots, clearly hinting as to a reason why.

"I don’t honestly know what your main motivation will be going into such a career-risking match such as this, I don’t know if it will be screwing as many pigs and sheep as you can, if it’s going to be choking every chicken in the barn, or simply finding every horse you care for and-oh wait...family show...I almost forgot. Damnit... You get the fucking point, but I already know you won’t be able to get this torment out of your thick skull. I know you can’t let go of the fact of how BADLY you choked this week, and simply lost the Overdrive Championship UNDER A WEEK. You’re more pathetic than you make me out to be Shadow, and that just makes you a two-time fucking loser."

"So go on and crack all the not-so-funny emo jokes you appear to be the only one laughing about, you want to see some razor blades? I’ll bring plenty of gift wrapped razor blades for your tall bitch ass; are you familiar with "death by a thousand cuts?” Do you know what it feels like to have your Achilles tendon cut? Well, you’ll soon come to find out-speaking of Achilles; let’s jump back onto the Mythology train for a moment. You see, my past is buried in the history books and I myself know very little of my ancestry or early childhood. But if Hades be it my last name, the pain I’ll bring you in the Deck the Halls match will make the word “Hades” truly sound like fucking Christmas. Allow me to elaborate this for you, you can twist and turn any of my words any way you choose because that is all you’re good at. This name calling, word twisting bullshit game you play, that’s the only card left in your hand. To everyone’s surprise it managed to slip you by this far. I promise you go no further, that is unless you, Pence Weatherlight, or some other political jackass backstage pays a referee to pull a fast one under my ass. I dislike, I despise, I deride, I HATE you Shadow-because you believe you are untouchable. That you are some “Next Big Thing” to grace this company and go on unscathed as some future reigning World Champion."

Slowly shakes his head to the thought of Shadow's previous rants, knowing such delusions are merely dreams and nothing more. Awaiting eagerly to shatter them all and make his life a living hell come Christmas Chaos...

"That Shadow, most certainly is not in the fucking cards for you my friend, and if it won’t be me, it’s going to be a man like Level-One or Biggs seeing to it your ass doesn’t see the day. Because I can deeply assure you they are probably rolling on their asses somewhere laughing hysterically at the thought of you ever becoming a World Champion-ANYWHERE. As for me, I’m going to continue doing what I do best, pissing people off, getting under their skin, kicking their ass, ramming the cold bitter truth down their fucking throats, and loving every minute of it. I don’t need Championship gold to obtain that, but if the time comes where it means keeping shit-grinning, cheap-winning, misinterpreting oafs like you from disgracing and tainting such a thing, so be it. I’ll rip the prize from your greasy, slimy, sweat-filled, giant hands long enough to bring some glory and respect back to the title. Just before I take it home for toilet paper uses and flush the son of a bitch down the toilet, because that is what a championship is starting to mean around here."

"Level-One has not been moved an INCH since he captured that World Championship, not you, not Lively, not Pence, NO ONE has taken that from him. The Overdrive Championship has simply been passed around like a slutty crackwhore in a train at a house party, and the Tag Team division just does not suit my taste. So there you have it Shadow, you can dish any insult in my face as you please, but be warned I’ll spit back any insult just as much if not more venomous than you can. I’m prepared to finally wipe that shit-eating grin from your face, and finally silence that mouth of yours. Simply by taking this size twelve boot you see here-which now stands in a pile of Bull-shit. The very same “bullshit” you’ve been bringing around since day one, kicking those beaver teeth in, and ramming it all straight down your throat. So just maybe, just maybe, I can go home and rest peacefully know I finally removed the air-polluting shit stain known as Shadow..."

Chuckles pausing as he turns his head, glancing at a pair of bulls, clashing heads at one another as they use their horns to stab the other. Merely scoffing as he observes before turning his attention back to the camera, rolling his shoulders with a twitch before leaning back to the fence.

"You’ve yet to accept yourself as the ignoramus we all know and recognize you as, and regardless of previous outcome you’ve still yet to see that I can and will be better than you fail to see. This is my city, my home, my domain, my match, and there isn’t a fucking THING you can do to change that. Accept the inevitable, bend over and take the ass-kicking your soon about to receive, and then go back home and look up John Green’s phone number for tips on how not to be a god damn tool. Much like John Green, I’m sure your dip-shitted brain is trying to actually compare me to that pathetic weakling that never-was... that hearing my voice makes you want to shoot the very brain stem from your skull... An intriguing thought. But I can do it so much more enjoyably for you. Unlike those pieces of shit, Joe Martinez, Jason Royce, or Vic Diaz, or anyone else pretending to be something they’re not- I am more dangerous than you could ever possible fathom. I keep reminding you simply because you're cocky, self-loathing, thick-fucking-headed brain can't grasp that. Yeah, I’m sure that one puckered up your butthole from the last ass-kicking it probably took from Biggs, now didn’t it? The fact is Shadow you can’t hide behind the truth forever; you can wave your bullshit shield around all you like-but I’m an anti-bullshit penetrating motherfucker with intent to cause pain. So you see, unlike you I sit here as a cold-blooded, sadistic, bulletproof, mean son of a bitch with a ton of ammunition."

"The best thing about this whole ordeal is I’m known for rising up against the odds, and beating them down to a bloody fucking pulp. Ask Level-One, Pence Weatherlight, hell even go ask good ol’ President Jeff, they’ve seen me do it in my time. You, you spent nearly the entire beginning of your career racking up worthless points over no-named, thick-headed, dip-shitted jobbers you walked all over. Everyone knows it, it’s no math quiz, and you took your career to be proclaimed “undefeated” by beating a stack of nobodies that didn’t mean a god damn thing! Then you thought you could walk around the big, bad, wolf and show it off like nothing could touch you. Now look at you, you already lost that life-preserver of yours under a week, and now you’re already sinking just waiting to drown."

"Tonight I won’t be running out of ammunition oh no, tonight I’ve got everything I need, and the only thing left is for your blood to stain these hands ONE MORE TIME. Just one more time for some closure for yours truly, consider it a parting gift, a trophy if you will- so I can rest knowing your ass is ridden of. Despite what your severely brain-damaged, stiff-assed, very sensitive, bitch-ass self who clearly seems to believe he’s Pence with a mangina has to say about that, nobody listening would give a shit. Tonight my only Christmas gift for you, is going to be the longest, slowest, most excruciating and painful beating the world has ever witnessed on live television, and that Shadow-is my gift to you."

"Merry Fucking Christmas."

[ Fade to black... ]

It's funny
Because it's not

It's funny
Because it's not
Because it's not
Because it's not

Fueled by hate
Await your fate
Your time has come
To DIE on stage

Fueled by hate
Fueled by hate
Your time has come
To DIE on stage
DIE