where dreams are broken

By: Brandon Moore

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 26th Jan 2022










Look into my face, then look again. We are not the same, we’re different. To tell your tales and fables, you couldn’t wait. You need a new clean slate without the dents. A place to put your pain, your consequence. When you look into the mirror, are you even there?. I don’t wanna know all your secrets..

’cause I’ll tell

It’s hard enough being alone with myself. I don’t know how long I’ll be holding on. I know you tried your hardest, I know that you meant well, but you pushed me to the edge, and I slipped and then I fell. I don’t know how long I’ll be holding on. So write a brand new page, then write again.


I know your

act is staged


Yet you pretend all while you’re turning tables with missing legs. I think you’ve overstayed your welcome in, so go the fuck away, don’t come again. I’ll see your face in the fire and burn it out. I know you tried your hardest, I know that you meant well. But you pushed me to the edge, and I slipped and then I fell. I don’t know how long I’ll be holding on.



I couldn’t be

I didnt need it

it needed me


Like a villain

I couldn‘t be

I didn’t need it

it needed me



     The Grand Redux

                       and Rebirth of a Sociopath


“We find ourselves here today because the benevolent staff of Fight NYC had the bright idea to throw another Blood Money bash. And guess where the fuck these pricks want us to mutilate and annihilate one another? Central park with the LARPERS? Ha, ha, nah, we already got plenty of these cosplay wrestlers running around. Don’t need to risk adding a couple more to the fairy tale land. Fight Tower? Nope, already been done before and if there is one positive thing you can say about the promotion known the world over as the absolute best is that these fools keep it fresh. No maggots, they chose the magical kingdom that sits upon the parcel of Mother known as Disneyland.”


“That is right folks, DISNEYLAND! The world’s premiere wrestlers fighting alongside Donald, Goofy, Mickey and Iron Man and that Spider fuck. Just another clown show to boost the ratings like a hotshot into these junkie veins. But who am I to pass any sort of judgment on how they handle their business? That ain’t my job. My job is what I have been failing to perform as of late. Building a reputation of being good, but not quite good enough to take the big match and run with it. I did it to myself so I have to accept that general opinion of me, right? Nah dummy, cuz that ain’t Brandon fuckin Moore. No, no, no. That isn’t who I really am. You wanna get to know who the fuck I really am? The truth? It ain’t hard to see for yourself. Just use your eyes and watch as the following epitaph that interweaves with me shooting on all these pathetic maggots like a semi, tearing their reputations and bodies to shreds of old headlines in the piss stained papers. Maybe sit down and shut your whore mouth for once and try n’ pay attention.”





in the future, dipshit

A dancing silhouette rages in the reflection of my anguish right before my very eyes. The stagnant air that had lingered long past it’s welcome just won’t seize its death grip on my crushed and choked throat.. Another gust of this familiar breeze, with ashes swirling from the overgrown tusks of flames that had consumed all of the lies and deceit, brushed against my face and left me covered in nothing but the sweet filth leftover. Is it all worth the waste of salt and water? My tears had become my signature calling card, my gimmick; the battle cry of a dismissed and shamed caricature of a beast once known as Brandon Moore. The earth crunches beneath me as I fall on to my knees underneath the weight I was cursed to carry for the rest of my lonesome and miserable life..


The oh so familiar sweet sound to my damaged ears is like an unrelenting soft serenation of my ego, calming the raging inferno of the fire inside my chest. The fire had already taken hold of my home that we had only just recently gotten completed. And it wasn’t just the main house that ended up engulfed in ablaze, but the guest’s and followers’ dorms too. And the three statues that had been erected in the place of our former Lady Liberty were staring down at their impending destruction, death by fire. Just more timber and rock for the crackling menace I had set loose upon the island I had given my all to. All of my blood, sweat and tears went into the conceiving, creating and guidance of this home to unforeseen heights by any generation before me on either side of the bloodlines. I fought so hard for a better way, to be a better man. And like a twisted fate of heartache to demonstrate, this is what leads to the only people I have ever loved just leaving me behind like everybody else who has ever “loved” me.

Ain’t nobody love ME. 

Fuck outta here.

I was joined by the flock who remained loyal to the true lord of the House, and they stood in a perfect circle around me as I succumbed to the sadness. It always returned while presenting itself as an old friend. Just like the welcoming darkness, and darkness always says hello with a devious crooked smile. It comes with the promise of a better day once sun breaks.. but I am fooled again and she’s hanging me out to dry. The sacrificial lamb so they may save them. I was finally at my breaking point as all semblance of normalcy, sanity, and decency through humanity left me all on my own, alone, with a sense of finality this time. This thought brings the flood, and me crumbling to the ground from the pain of this broken heart.

Won’t you just come back and tear me apart again?


“What is there left to be said about all of my peers, known and unknown, that are all running headstrong along to come on and play with a group of blood thirsty killers, villains, dweebs, punk ass bitches and hoes that we can’t help but fuck cuz they just push that ass back and clap every damn time I turn my attention in any which direction? Do we really need to sit here and regurgitate the previous shit everybody has already said about another and themselves? Or is there another way? A better path forward must be found and by gawd, I think I fuggin found it you goofs. I am just gonna start telling the truth on all of y’all bitch made fucks. You have all gotten used to playing a rigged game, engineered to direct all attention towards chosen puppets for the required fulfillment of “entertainment.” And how do they do this. you ask? Why shit son, they do the same damn thing everybody else does. Dangle the carrot on a string known to be far too short for any rational and busy fella to waste their time jumping up and down for the treat with the rest of the HELP. No, that is not what this sumbitch is a doin. I’m sick and tired of being treated as a second rate citizen, or a second class professional wrestler. And the only blame I can throw out there for my lack of production here in Fight is towards my damn self. I will rise to the greatest heights that my cold blackened heart desires, if I desire so. And I can also sink far lower than you could competently comprehend. None of you really know what the fuck you are getting yourselves into  now. Take every preconceived notion you got on Brandon Moore, any accumulated “facts” and take both of these big dumb ass postulates and shove them up your little assholes raw dawg. So then I can bail and get back to doin’ the work all of yall too pussy to get your clean hands filthy in. You, you, and especially your bitch ass ain’t about this life so check yourself and get ghost, quickly maggot. Quickly. Before I snap and just start whippin your ass with my studded leather belt. Oh, you mean he ain’t know? This little bitch Empire champion over here?? I curl toes, dig a few holes for the strangling hoes with my flavor blessing all these God forsaken flows that just spill from my mouth like the oil in the gulf. Certainly. Except the difference is, you can’t wash this shit off your soft boy skin. I have got about just enough microphone talent to make an ocean explode while the Status Quo choke.”



“I ain’t a TV show gimmick like the whole lot of ya dirty fuckin’ miscreants. Most of you just the hoes sent out so the show may go on. The unheralded. Damn, they doin’ the most for a whole lotta nothin’ when you take a step back and think about it. But what about the known quantities? The big time athletes and stars? The players and their haters? What about the great big white sharks and megalodons out here just waiting for a little tasty nibble of a treat? You ever seen one of them big ass man eating fish beasts out there in them seas? Well.. I mean, while we on the subject..”



“Chris Page? He frontin’ that shit and we all know that. I fell short before but now I’ll just find him while he’s out n’ about and fuck him up in public to the cries of women, men and children equally pissing all over themselves instead of dare attempting to commit a save. He’ll be screaming like, “BRANDON PROBABLY OFF THAT PROZAC!” while swingin’ from my bawlsack. Look ya little puke, this new Brandon got that nice shine on it, you just still the same bitch made cunt clinging to relevance by whoring yourself out willingly at the drop of a hat, I bet you have a whole bunch of content I can poach about that and you don’t want that. You can’t grab hold of the microphone like me, mudda fugga, I just started speaking and the pages of gold just churn and churn while all of your video tapes end up on that pile over there marked for BURN. Who else? Ah, come on now. Come on now. Of course I am going to rip across this spread and take aim directly at Shawn Warstein’s inflated six-head. That’s right you lackluster chameleon, go shed your last skin and get your ass back here so daddy can wax that hine end. Simply ripping you to shreds, millions of pieces never able to again be refigured. Idiot, you forgot about me, huh? Forgot about Brandon Moore? Well, guess what you scuzzy scamp? Brandon is comin’ to clean up the Fight locker rooms like Marky Mark in that Departed junt. Great ass flick. Shit you wouldn’t know about with your lame ass duck status just sitting there in idle like it matters to even breathe. God damnit Shawn, shut the fuck up and sit your ass back down and pass it off to the OG career ender maybe,  possibly, most probably serial killer, so you can finally be shown how the damn thing is done right for once. But don’t just stay your ass laid out all flat like maggot.”


“..follow me..”





“Like your whole New Status Quo family in the Hudson with they feet all wrapped up in my own self poured concrete, bitch. And your career banded up like a million in cash, and Brandon Moore just reaches out to grab the cheddar and take your whole entire plate of shit. Oh shit, I better wear a mask, don’t you think Shawn? Something scary, that’ll show you. Oh, no, that was last time. Now your little dynasty’s got a true enemy out here in the tall grass, and you maggots better believe I am beyond prepared to hook and crook every single last one of you insufferable talent hopping coat riding fucks. Believe it. Please. I don’t like seeing the look of surprise on the face of my victims. That’s old news. I wanna see the uncontrollable smiles that associate with any of you NSQ pukes when they know that the fabled boogeyman that they had heard so much about on their way in was finally circling his wagon around their camp, out in the darkness beyond the reach of your night lights. Don’t let them dirty feet slip out from beneath the covers on the edge of ya bed’s tonight ladies and gentlemen, cuz I’ll snatch ya and either have you workin’ two johns every half hour on the corner of Texas and Jefferson in South City St. Louis, or lost without a trace as proof that ghosts actually fucking exist.. BOO bitch.”

Uncle Vladdy pushes his way through the only family I truly have with Momma on his arm.  She has a fifth of Black Label in her hand and it’s already halfway empty, but she appeared as a pleasant woman. More lies, but at least this was one I could always count on. My uncle approached me, putting his left hand on my shoulder and dropping to one knee to be beside me in my moment of dismay. Joining me in this misery that has gripped tight to my very essence, squeezing me until there just isn’t anything left. This is the part where I completely and unequivocally break down into a little tiny spoon, just waiting for the first geek to reach over and grab hold and start dropping change on top of me. Hey maggot, make sure you mash me up real fuggin good and hit it with a bit of flame.

You’ll thank me later..

I forgot about Dane. Yep, Dane Preston is in this bitch too. Why are Brandon Moore and Dane Preston sharing the same space of carbon dioxide? It’s simple really. When your life is in doubt and everything new and used turns to shit, you return to your roots to find that solid ground to catch your footing on. I know what some of y’all are probably saying.. and I just don’t care to hear a single fuggin syllable of it man. Just wait and see players. Just wait and see. The game is about to change, again, and every last one of ya will be rushing, hurrying while scurrying about trying to play catch up. Only problem is, you’ll always fall well below this bar I now hold and continue to steadily raise.

Oh, but Dane..


Everything slowly starts back pedaling before going full on burst and full speed, stuck in slow motion. Damn.. even in my own created reality formed from recollections of past events and people, my ass still gotta suffer. Look at this shit. The flames that were devouring the House of M pretty much just tap danced right in front of my face as slowly as humanly possible while moving backwards in time and I could do nothing. Not even close my eyes. And as time began to completely fuck itself up, an eternity passed with those fierce piercings from the roaring fire pointing at the junkie loser over here crying on his knees.

And then the fire just distinguishes into the nether and I become unstuck. The bending of time and space still transpires around me, but it is working at an appropriate functioning pace. On my knees, I watch as every person that had been around me just disappears, then I am suddenly ripped from the page myself and posted up on the first page of a book I had finished weeks ago. In actuality, it was maybe an hour before where you had come up on and found me at. I was sitting inside at my desk, fireworks on my face as the seasons poured from my eyes. I can’t tell you what happened, my mind won’t allow me to reach out and take that bit of information and put it back into the collection. Shit.. it must have been some bad shit. Fuck man, it had to be some wicked ass bad shit. I mean, cuz here I am, and I am a god damn fucking wreck. A hot steaming stinky ass mess man.

The door to my office busts open and smashes back against the wall it opens toward. I was smoking so much reefer that you could see the cloud rolls when that sucker flung open. Through the foggy haze of marijuana smoke I make out the undeniable figure of Dane Preston. But what the fuck was this guy doing here at my house during my time of incessant suffering. You know, that 2007 emo type shit. Very quickly, I noticed that there was something extremely off and different about Dane. Like, he was Dane Preston, yet not. He approached the desk abruptly, speaking to me but I was unable to make out a lick of it. I had become deaf to the voices from the outside world, allowing the ever growing list of voices from within to rise to prominent positions that would leave me compromised for the rest of my life. I was just never going to let a soul learn of my dirty little secret so none would attempt to remove me from my seat of power. A seat I had created and taken for myself in the empty power vacuum that had been created by the rise of NSQ in Fight NYC. The position that they, unbeknownst to the others, had opened my eyes to and instructed on how to claim it. The Moth and the Butterfly, my two lovely creatures that had found me in my self imposed exile while lost adrift in a flood of darkness.

All that transpired over the past few months had mentally beaten me down to a bloody pulp, fracturing my mind into an existential crisis that was in the process of doing all that it could to drive me absolutely insane. And those closest to me had done nothing to reach through my clouds to show me that everything was going to be alright. In my position of an exposed vulnerability, the ones who were allegedly keepers of my heart either could not the see  any effects from the sudden dropping of narcotics and going cold turkey, or they just did not give a damn and I had viewed them as something more than what they ever truly were. I could pass on the blame and drop it on others rather than just carrying them my damn self, but the only outcome from such a cowardly way of life is that in the end, it doesn’t even matter.



I had to disappear from those who leave me so vulnerable. It isn’t like it will be the end of them. None of them would understand anyway, let alone the fact that they wouldn’t even care at all.

“BRANDON!” Dane mumbled and growled at the same time right directly into my face, penetrating through my home made defenses. 

“Not now Dane.” I stood up and moved past him, bumping my shoulder against his.

What transpires next is a bit of a blur.  Flashing images of me with a can of gasoline, dumping it everywhere around the House. Dan attempted to stop me somewhere along the way, to no avail. And after the can is completely empty, I tossed it aside and take out a Zippo lighter from my pocket. Standing in the middle of a lifeless living room that is shrouded on the cover of the moon’s shade, the instrument for the destruction of everything I had believed in was in my grasp. All I had to do was fight through choking down the tears, and drown the memories playing a bittersweet symphony on my mental state well being. I hold the lighter up in my hand, finger on the proverbial trigger. But like so many times before, when the time comes to take charge of this life I whilter beneath the weight of expectation.

Emotions begin to form my coincidence, driving me to a defeated left knee in the puddle of gasoline that was now soaked into my carpet. My head collapses from the pressure of finality, as I just wasn’t ready to give in and give up just yet. I was too pathetic and weak to do what needed to be done so that I may one day breathe again, for the very first time. Dane is standing back in a doorway, looking at the man who was once his great adversary, and I could feel his empathy from across the way. He actually felt bad for me, and for some reason, it just made it that much harder to find all of this in a copasetic fashion.

Dane approached me while I still had the lighter held out in my hand in front of me. His hand comes to rest on my shoulder with a tight grip, but one with no maliciousness to it.

“I got this Brandon.” Dane’s voice had a heaviness to it, understanding the weight of what this was, what it was going to become, and where it was going to lead both men.

As Dane took the lighter from my hand, I did my best to try and fight against him, but my effort was all in vain because even I knew deep inside that it was futile to try and resist fate. Dane strikes the Zippo, the flame jumping up instantly and flickering to it’s sway. I remove a type of cigarette case from the pocket on the front of my suit and remove a well rolled lick that gets put in my mouth. I look up to see Dane extending the lighter out in front of me, and I lean forward to light the blunt for myself. I take a few steps back and fall backwards sitting up into the couch. Dane looks at me and back to the spot on the floor where the gasoline can was sitting, and tosses the lighter in that there very spot.

There is a loud pop as the gasoline in the puddle erupts into hellfire instantaneously. Dane jumps back away from the flames as they begin to take hold and fight for their growth. He moves past me before stopping.

Come on B.” Dane said, patting me on the shoulder.

I just sat back on the couch for a moment, inhaling and exhaling the good smoke as I stared into the beginning of the end. “Go ahead Dane-o.. I am good right here.”

“No you crazy bastard, you’re coming with me. We have to get out of here and we have to get out of here now!” Dane is serious here, and he grabs my arm to try and pull me up, but I refuse.

“God damnit B..”

And then we are ripped away and pulled across screens as the speed search sends us roaring back to the point that we had begun. I can’t believe what is happening, so I further crumble into the ground as the notion settles all around me that there was no freedom without letting go and losing all hope. So this is me, giving way to what may come next. Whatever it takes.

And then Dane pushes his way back through to me, tossing Uncle Vladdy aside, who sneers at him like a gremlin ready to rip the flesh right on off a his face. Dane is in a complete and intentional state of what in the fuck is this fuckery? And this wild boy came on over all stumbling n shit like a cray cray mongrel or some shit. He falls to his knees, his body weight smashing against mine before returning to a heap of a mess such as me.

“What the fack..” Is the only thought that was able to escape across the scroll running parallel alongside my vision. Dane was a man ripped in half, marking two distinct personalities that face off for control over their shared vessel. I was screaming this to the empty heavens up above on the highest mountain top, but unable to push it from out of my mouth and realizing nobody gave a shit anyway.

The world was now a wash of rainbow genies just spinning all around us, clockwise, as if the stars were in hyperspace just dying to be sucked down the drain and blown out the back of NSQ’s brains. It was a beautiful sight for any single one person to be able to witness, but even more beautiful through the eyes of the deranged men you are forced to now pay attention to. The fruits and nuts of Fight NYC, following their head cashew who is me. And wouldn’t you have guessed it? We are swinging samurai swords, hachets and chainsaws all willy nilly because, fuck you, that’s why. We want your body parts separated from the rest. We want it real bad bay bay. And with the spraying of the accumulated wealth of energy from the back of their skulls that was derived just for this very moment, there was universal matter all over the damn place. Like a splash and dash of Polock just fucking everywere. It was.. Just.. Perfect..

 You had to be there..

Or will be..

 I promise.


The scene went blurry from there. What I can remember is feeling a thousand little pinches of pressure running along the entirety of my body and seeing Dane sailing on top of the flock alongside me, raised in the air like relics of a bygone era. But where this story takes a sharp turn, is that we were being carried toward our destinies. There wasn’t any guarantee on the outcome of our future endeavors, but in this sublime forgotten moment, we just didn’t give a fuck.


And this is the part where you are supposed to get scared. This is the intimidation speech, yet not. This is one for those who are actually paying attention to the transformation happening right before their eyes. Do they seriously dare to turn away from the forming cocoon that has begun to envelop me, another foreign substance caressing my flesh and bringing forth the final piece of the puzzle through random genetic mutation. A freak of nature now being bent over the kitchen counter by mother and her nature, raped full of the seeds needed for the implantation of the new breed. The new era of murder, ghosting, and being better than every single last one of you. I understand if you don’t think so, but now just heed this warning. The boogeyman has cometh back. And as Uncle Vladdy watches his prized monster finally being returned to him as advertised, he smiles while pulling out his cellphone. 

“Yeah, HEY! G.M.! Yeah, V D here baby. I think my boy is finally ready to be your number one attraction.” He says as the House begins to transform into a scene far different than what appears to us now.

“Oh yes my friend.. He is ready. We are about to make so much fucking money. I’ve got the perfect insurance policy to insure he cooperates to the fullest.” Uncle Vladdy said with his billion dollar smirk before speaking a Russian salutation and sliding his phone into the pocket in the front of his suit.

“I’m one who looks out past this wrestling pasture for my sustenance, my fulfillment, and I have found it to be an even easier endeavor when I use the lives of my peers as my very own personal marketplace. Don’t believe me? Stupid. I’ll have your bitch acting as the big bad wolf and I’m the piglet twenty minutes after I just walk up in y’all’s house and drag my feet across your couch. It’s that mother fucking mack with the stained up chrome ball bat once used on the Virgin Mary, bitch. Why do you think that I am so immaculate, maggots? Do I really need to sit here and call out every single name on this roster so I make sure y’all can’t just fuck me with schemantics? Wait.. what? Fuck that. I’m just gonna show up at Disneyland and beat you all black and blue, cuz none of you are nothing like me, and I ain’t fuggin nothing like none of ya. I’ll beat a bitch, man, woman or child and break a hoe at the same time while again, man, woman, child, shit don’t matter to me anymore. Youre all on the menu if you ask me, all up on the kitchen floor in pools of your own weak ass blood. Your loved ones in hysteria until they get hypnotized by the nine rights of passage, spoken from the tongue of a defiled holy man. Oh dummy, don’t tell me that one of you forgot? Brandon Moore is just back to being the cause of the friendly neighborhood satanic serial killer  panic, eagle eye stalking in the night, unseen by every one of you worthless pills that are considered the prey to my carnivorous rage. My eyes are bloodshot from the intoxication of, what? Intoxication from mutilating your school children’s corpse and just rolling by and tossing it on your front porch. I dare another petulant shit stain to claim they know a single fucking thing about me. About what I am representing and what I am out her championing for. It’s the fucking ticky ticky sticky time man. That shit is my favorite. Middle of the ring or equal arena, up to my knees in your stew. It’s practically a homicide. Or a suicide is bleeding all out through my eyes and running down my face like the tears that once plagued, saved, and abandoned me. You know what that is, don’t ya? That’s a sign that I might just run on up into Fight or any other company whenever I damn well please, and just up n’ take your life like it wasn’t even worth a shit.”






“Everybody looks at my momma a little weird, cuz she’s blind n’ shit, right? They will see her always awake even though she drinks enough liquor to drop a preteen fashion council straight on center stage to spill their guts for all the little glamorous giggles and jiggles. Y’all look at this woman, Momma Moore, and you see a bad person. Instead of the truth. What you don’t realize is that the bitch is the way she is because I am the way I have ALWAYS BEEN. And that is why every night, my momma praying to her fictitious supreme being in the sky, pleading for the soul of her son. Pleading to be freed from the chains that bind her forever to me as they soon will all of you too. Fucking marks. The devil got my soul and he is always ready to roll. But.. I mean.. I’ll beat a bitch man. That’s what we are all trying to get at right? A contest? A sport? DARE I SAY A FIGHT!!? So many different mouths that need force fed all the empty and hollow threats they spit on me while I was down and out. How many times can I say this shit, man? You gonna push me to the edge while the fat cats in the suites and suits are just  hedging bets. Perhaps even shaving a few things so that one and one can equal four. Yeah, sure, guy. I’ll just be over here with this leather belt strapped tight around my neck so I can atleast get some enjoyment out of the simplicity of such “legendary” counter actions to all provisional measures that have been carried out thus far, currently, and at any time in any future timeline that we end up reaching. Whatever the outcome is of this Blood Money Bash 97’, just know that Brandon Moore is going to be content with just hurting you, you, you, you, and you and you, you over there and you up and down there and there and please understand. You really NEED to know. I am going to hurt every single maggot that crosses me, and I am going to hurt them real bad. Like a damn doofus punk ass toddler at whiffle ball practice. Just swinging and swinging, with the difference being each time I smack my target, it tee’s off and that’s the game. Blouses win.”



“The dawn of Fight and all of it’s crossover potential was once viewed as, even by me, as this great big positive ordeal that is going to change the business all the way down at it’s rotten core and equality would ring out freely in a profession that does all it can to help enforce the old way of the American Dream. You know the dream. The who knows who dream. When Outlaw Pro closed and this rose up from it’s smoldering foundation to take it’s place, I was just as excited as the next person. But then that is when they not only took me for a sucker ass motherfackin’ hoe, but they snatched up all of the big named stars like some god damn vanity project and began touting newbie outsiders like they were something special before they ever did a goddamn thing!”


“And I even had to do a quick take back then, but especially now, I look around and quite frankly… I don’t see a single damn precious  ounce of that special little something inside of anybody. Nobody here has, IT, they just have shit. And it’s not even good shit that you can grow psilocybin mushrooms in. Maybe you can mold some rye grain in moonshine to get that special hallucinogen outta that rye grain or bread, but little ones, that wouldn’t be very special now, would it? Being able to do something anybody can, will, and or has done already isn’t very special, is it? SO WHY DO ALL OF YOU KEEP DOIING THE EXACT SAME FUCKING SHIT AND THEN SNIFFING YOUR OWN ASS LIKE IT’S ROSES!??!?! Just a large contingency of hoe ass punks and it just so happens that I have, ‘Fuck a Ho’ tatted all over my damn throat, right next to the scar from where I got my throat slit for accidentally spitting on my uncle when I was nine, There man, now you have some more information on why I am so fucked up and like to have mutilated bodies dancing with me, the fuckin’ devil, all the live long dang day man. I’m not personally raping bitches, but I do take ‘em to the dungeon or something. Supposedly. Right? Is that how I have to live my life in this world of make believe and kayfabe? In hypotheticals? That is the type of shit that just makes me blow the fuck up and grab the ligaments in everybody’s limbs and start to sever. And you better believe that I can work calm and slowly just to make sure the shit really settles in on ya. You know what it is, that you’re in way over your head and fucked, pumped, and given up. I don’t quit until the slice is nice and quite. Quiet even works if any of you are dying to feel the pain of a blade running down your fuckin spine and splittin’ you in two n shit man. That’s fucking beautiful. Or I can be kickin’ in your door later on looking to even the score, and you better believe I know more than  fifty nine ways to make your body turn cold, gray, and powder. So pay close attention right here and pay close attention right god damn now you pieces of crap.”



“and hell follows reaping..”

“..sweeping.. cleanly..”


I had to get away. Not just from my overbearing responsibilities as a man, husband, father and professional athlete. Or even away from the pressure of a friendship I wasn’t even sure was the right move for me personally. Dub Dub? Sigh. That was so in 2019. And what is Brandon Moore if not the continued and unabated growth of a supervillain? The depths of my character yet still to be explored. Exploited. Whatever you wanna call it.

Brandon Moore was a symbol.

Is a symbol?

Fuck, I forgot..


Brandon Moore is nobody..

Not an Island Boy, yet he has

the gold slung over his shoulder..

Not a good man with a wife and son..

Brandon Moore is a monster created by the greed and depravity of two Russian sociopaths that just happen to be his mother and “uncle.” All of Brandon’s life he believed Vladimir to just merely be his mother’s only brother.. but there has been another train of thought on just who exactly Vladdy truly is towards our protagonist, and our antagonist, fuck, our whole god damn show, Brandon Moore. But that is a story that is saved for another time, another day. But here and now, this is what makes the man before you such a goddamn national treasure. He is an enigma wrapped in the tin foil of the crazy folks down around the bend that are selling their swill and stealing your shill. They have that shine’ fermenting in the hops from their own hard manned fields. Every kernel personally chewed n’ spit for that little extra pinch of something special.

Yeah, this part of the story takes place in South Western Missouri, where I had managed to skitter off one hundred percent free from that terribly buzzing city of New York, where the Fight Tower was located, and where I was due in only just a few short days to take my trip on down to Disneyland. I was free from the weight of all them voices jumping up and down on my left and right shoulders. 

Hush little ones, Daddy needs his time to breathe..

So barring the eventual inevitability of my total and absolute collapse via mental breakdown, it was back home to the woods in the deep of Missouri I had gone to do some sort of soul searching or some shit. Look, if you’re expecting some crazed drug fueled adventure, go see Paul Montuori. That isn’t the type of story you are going to find here. Nope.

No sir.

I went home to go and attempt to do the one thing I can freely recollect finding for myself voluntarily, like finding some kind of enjoyment so as to ease my vibrations and not end up with a hole blown out the side of my own damn head. That’s just what Michelle and Ezra need in their lives. This schmuck’s blood and guts just spruced all about the damn livin’ room. Sometimes I have to stop myself for a moment and really concentrate on whether or not any single damn last thing I may or may not be doing is causing the two of them any sort of harm. Any fucking type of discomfort. Yano, all that typical easy human being shit we are all supposed to have some basic knowledge of, and yet here the fuck I am without a single fucking clue on how to be just like you. Just like you. Another dime upon the dozen flocks of intertwined and independent bodies. Smash, trash, slash and stash. You would think it’d be easy to know whether or not you should do something, right? I mean, fucking right?



But does she ever consider this as she scolds me for just being myself? Nah, a Riggs could never do something so fucking sincere as, “Oh, maybe I am in the wrong.” It is one of the things I loved about her. But damn, ain’t it crazy how the things that first hook and draw us in at the beginning turn out to be the very things that have us dicking down the fat ass hispanic babysitter while her bitch ass is passed out holding her phone with Paul’s messages still pulled up. I could give more descriptions, but ya probably get it by now, right? You understand that I ain’t no good, correct? Shit, probably already knew that though… didn’t ya? I mean, I am so fucking good at being bad, but that isn’t the point I am trying to express to you in this here very moment. Consider this me, B R A N D O N M O O R E, confirming to your little worm mentalities that nothing about me is made up. All of this before now and what proceeds, is factual reality. You’ll get used to it the more you fuck with me. But do you really want to be the poor unfortunate spook that looks across the way at his coming doom in the form of a fractured psyche that dangles it’s display like a lion with it’s mouth perched open around the electrical wires you’re carefully trying to circus across?

Alright, alright, alright. So I went way down the Southwest of Missouri to this little shithole in the wall of a town called Humansville.

We don’t have tentacles, we promise.

I just pull into a parking spot on the empty square in the middle of town, my eyes canvassing the area I had not laid eyes upon in over a decade. That’s the thing with small town middle America thought, the more things change, the more the shit just stays the fucking same. My god, look at this piece of shit town with its one stupid ass gas station and Dollar General. Dollar General for barely over a hundred residents? The fuck man? Get that eyesore out my damn face, alright? Shit, who am I even speaking to?

I clear my throat as I get up on the sidewalk and start off in the direction of the gas station. This takes like, seven minutes, alright? Do you need me to explain in full detail what transpired? Yeah? Well fuck you, I refuse. It took seven minutes to walk a mile and a half. I don’t remember this damn place being over a mile long, but then again, back in those days.. Boy.. let me tell you.. You think I am fucked up.. NOW!? Ha, ha, ha, you’re funny, kid. You’re going places. But seriously.. where the fuck is this gas station?

“Welcome back to the reckoning, little ones. Now is the time that I hit you with the classical pro wrestling spit shots your boy is praised and renowned for. You see, there is not a single other professional wrestler that can be put up next to me under a microscope. You still won’t find a single damn thing that connects me to another, with the exception of obviousness you fucking dummy. God damn Brandon, you cuss too damn much yano? OH WELL! Prospective bookers out there feeling me out, listening to me now, here’s some advice. Just don’t even ask. You don’t want this type of toxic sludge in your company, I am surprised that Fight still does though. Somebody around here love me or what? No.. No… that’s right, they just can’t get rid of me cuz I am a cancerous tumor that is pressing against the panic button in their heads. And the rest of you poorly paid body bags and weight machines should take notice of your own promotion’s attitude towards me to measure your own discrepancy with me. Cuz I am telling you here and I am telling you right fucking now. Continue, and you will get your feelings hurt.”


“Anybody participating in the Blood Money Bash of ‘93 that’s had a previous friendship or alignment or whatever with me that is thinking I am gonna do a huffle shuffle to cooperate with them is the first idiot that needs to be targeted. I have been in my own personal hell for months now, and not a single one of you supposed “friends” did a damn thing to calm the rising tide that is raging ablaze through a fire inside of me. And yeah, yeah, accountability n all that shit, right? Okay, but like, you know what makes getting out of a suffocating hole you dug yourself, but not really because it was happenstance from the causality of effect that put you into your self dug hole, easier? Not even easier. Let’s say.. DOABLE WITHOUT BECOMING LIKE THIS!”




“So just consider this the death of any alliance you thought you may have had with me involved at fuggin Disneyland. Well, I mean, except for.. y’all. If you even really exist. Could just be talking to my many selves again late at night in the cold New York breeze sitting out on rooftops? Or there could be some shit going down at Blood Money numero dos. Too bad I fackin’ forgot man, I bet it’s something cool. Or possibly stupid, whatever. That isn’t the point. The point is.. well, fuck it. Fuck you. That’s the point and all I have to say about it.”


“Next? Is there really anybody else to worry about in this thing? If there ever was to begin with? I’m looking man, and I gotta tell ya.. what the fuck has happened? The pudding gang fleeced us with their supposed “supremacy” and “hierarchy” that have led us all down this sterling path towards… Ummm…. What? What the fuck man!?”




“Yeah.. about that.. way to intercept the ball NSQ.. AND THEN COMPLETELY BOTCH IT FROM THERE! Ah.. silly maggots, it’s going to be okay now though. The real villain has made his triumphant return to the company. Y’all just go take a seat down over there and watch how this shit is really done you phoney ass prick clowns. It would seriously do y’all some wonders to learn how the professional wrestling business works. It really would. It would be even better if y’all just shooed away for awhile while the pros fixed y’all’s mess. I mean, what in the holy fuckin hell is this shit? Are y’all scared to get a little heat on ya? You that bitch? You that soft? You think these maggot fans out there actually consider anything about you other than how well you squeeze other half nude men and women inside some ropes? Do you think the 75% phoney gimmicks that make up that locker room for show and tell give a fuck? They just here doing their job, going through the motions ‘n all that shit. But what is the Status Quo doing? Are y’all out in front being the trailblazing force for Fight! like you’re SUPPOSED TO BE!? Awww faaacckkk nooooooo! Y’all just over there playing house n shit because your hubris glows brighter than any other weakness filth like you are beholden with. You think your bitch asses can just get nice and comfortable don’t ya? Hey, maybe I can’t even say shit. It’s prolly my fault, cuz I was here. I fell to you over and over again my friends. But little ones, tell me something, will you? Awwww, how sweet boo. Now, tell me.. NSQ.. what’s different this time? Oh.. Oh no.. Not Brandon Moore! Look, James Raven is over there sucking Dickie’s Dickie and you’re gonna hate on Brandon Moore for being a superior talent to any of you any time place day or existence? I mean.. I did take away those Island belts with Paulie while my system was overrun with more narcotics and chemicals than you can fathom. ‘I can beat Dub Dub.. error.. Montuori and Moore.. Ahem.. Sorry.. Don’t.. Don’t take my money mister. It’s all I’ve got! No, seriously, listen to this fucking cock washes dick lickers for a second. James Raven literally said he would beat us with a joke partner that couldn’t even be bothered to at least SAY OUR NAMES BITCH! Well? What the fuck happened bubba?  I guess that’s why you’re over there suckin on ya captain’s little Dickie, aye James?”


“Don’t worry, we all made wild claims and ended up with our own nut in our face. Especially me. And I have learned from it and allowed it to sift into the very fabric of my being and I have come out the other side made anew. Oh yes, but sadly, it really ain’t got shit to do with humility.  I am here outta the basic trivial need for survival. This is all I know how to do outside of a life filled with terrors and horrors you don’t want to wish for or imagine. And I have come back to take just one last swing at this before I hang it up for good and move on to the greener pasture of my life that awaits me after the pro wrestling business. So whether  you are a part of the NSQ, or just another mouth on the roster that needs fed, just know that I am coming at you this time with everything that I am equipped with to put you down like nothing more than dogs. Just lousy dogs being put out of their misery. I would normally invite you to welcome the Everblack into your lives, but the darkness is no longer a welcoming embrace for any of you. The House is not taking applications, so all the Everblack has to offer you is the eternal pit of torment you will be dropped on your neck into and left to rot beneath the blazing white hot spotlights that you were so sure were meant for you. Dummies.. those lights aren’t for you. They’re for the audience. So they can watch clearly and in vivid color as every single last fucking one of you entering this damn thing becomes..”



“And now you may be welcomed home to MY new reality. Paper bags handed out for you all to breathe in while you’re hyperventilating and suffocating beneath the weight of our new expectations. Are you going to be crushed by the permeance of this brand new existence? The ascension and arrival of the company’s final grand super villain, on the level none have yet to accomplish on their own no matter how many promises and statements are made. I had achieved such a level of greatness and infamy on the deeds of my own damn bloody hands. I never needed a crew of cleaners and hand holders, I have always done the most damage possible by being the solo act that not a damn single person ever wants to willingly submit themselves to having the audacity to stand opposed to. Am I saying nobody is man or woman enough to actually want to seek me out and take aim? No. There are plenty of absolutely stupid people around here and everywhere else that populates this business. What I am saying is that when the time comes and they have to, their opinions are going to be changed rather quickly, like a turncoat. They will betray themselves to me and the whole wide world as the fear of being here goes awashed across their terrified manchild faces. Their trembles are the striking chords of my instrument, and they guide me to the endless possibilities of how I am able to manipulate and contort their bodies into symbols of pain. They will all become the very definition of torment itself, a gift that I have giveth to you that you must.. No.. That you NEED to know.. As I giveth, so too shall I taketh away. It is a gift that shows you that there is only one thing worse than being the suffering twit I am describing. What could be worse? Imagine finally, in your pathetic and simplistic lives, that you are of some form of importance that requires the moniker of whatever it takes, your one and only true big break. Once you feel that warmth of finally being worth a fuck, to have it ripped away no matter what it’s consistency was? Man.. I can feel your pain, and it is such a damn shame.. But have no fear little ones, for this new deal that brings you the one true bad guy is going to last for a very long time. So your chances of having to re-enter the ropes and stand opposed to me have increased so that maybe further down the line you will be privileged to be pummeled to a bloody lump of crap at my feet.”

And I arrive to the ole lonely gas station in this bum fuck Egypt type little middle American town from my past.  For being such a shrunken population type place, the station was fairly busy at this time of the day. Six pumps, six country boy trucks, and all the country boy anthems rockin’ on the stereos. I took a deep breath as I approached the door, inhaling in all the beauty of this environment that I am no longer able to get from staying in New York City, New York. The concrete jungle has a lot going for it and offers plenty of it’s advantages that places like this in the middle of nowhere aren’t able to replicate and offer themselves. But for all of the strengths a big time city like that has, there is just something you have to come all the way out into the middle of nowhere to receive, and it is hard to properly explain just what exactly that is. Those who know what I am talking about are all like, “Preach!” But out here, there is this sense of calm that screams, “Freedom!” and it is completely intoxicating to the point that you withdraw from it when it has been taken away. Legit. The door to the Conoco station opens right in my face so I take hold of the handle and hold the door while the idiot that tried to accost me makes their way out.

“Oh.. My.. Gawd.. Brandon!?” The voice was familiar, and I was a little hesitant to look up and reveal to them that I was, in fact, Brandon.

“Brandon Moore, is that you!”  A face matching her voice as I look up and see my sweetheart of Junior and Senior years of high school, Tina Holmes. She was still as gorgeous now as she was then.

“Oh my God.. It is you!” She jumps forward and into me, wrapping her arms around me. I can’t help but return the embrace. 

“Mom?” A teenage boy around sixteen years old says as he comes out of the store. and he catches my eye standing at 6’5″ and is well built for a kid his age.

“Oh I am sorry honey.” We end our reunion of flesh as she steps back, welcoming her son into our meeting. “Preston, this is an old friend of mine. Brandon, this is my son Preston.

“Brandon Moore is your friend, mom? You know he is, like, famous and shit right?” Preston said while opening his can of Monster Energy and taking a drink.

“I take it you’re a wrestling fan, kid?” I can’t help but continue to look at him. Something about him seemed really familiar. Maybe a little too familiar.

“You actually did it Brandon? You became a professional wrestler?” Tina’s eyes are locked in wonderment, and you can tell she is as happy to see me as she is surprised. She must have noticed how I was looking at Preston because she suddenly had a bit of white wash over her.

“Well, life took a few more of it’s twists and turns before I got there. But, yeah, I actually did it. What have you been up to?” I try to turn my focus solely on Tina so she doesn’t come to the conclusion that I think her son is mine. But.. if he is sixteen then the age would line up with the last time we had been together. I had to know, looking at Preston for a moment more. “And how old is your son? He looks like he’s thirty.”

“Shit B, I wish I was thirty.” The kid opens up with a smile, liking that a person he formally only seen on a television screen is standing before him and pumping him up. Tina pauses for a moment, staring at me as I stare right back. You could see her mind running a million miles per hour, a look I was all too familiar with from our two years together that were spent pretty much arm in arm.

“He’s.. sixteen Brandon.”  Damn, I am good at reading this shit show called life. I kind of smirked, but tried to keep it hidden from the two of them as I looked away.

“Mom, I really need to be getting to school now. Brandon, it was nice to meet you bro. Hope to see you again sometime.” He throws up a high five and I quickly meet his hand with mine before he turns away and heads off for their truck.

Tina and I return to looking at each other, her eyes melting in sadness as my face displays that I was lost and confused inside. Was this kid my son? Our eyes are entwined and locked on the other’s, and it is awkward for a moment as the other didn’t speak. Almost a minute has slowly passed before Tina begins to try and speak, but her son interrupts from their truck. “MOM! I’M GONNA BE LATE!”

She looks at her son before slowly turning back and looking at me. I could see in her stare that she was sorry, and didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t let her leave with me being an asshole.

“I am going to be in town for a couple days..” I slowly say as I reach out for the phone she was holding in her hands. She lets me take it into mine as I open her contacts folder, creating a new one. “Can we meet tonight at our favorite place?”

She looks at her phone as she takes it back from me in silence before looking back up at me. “The usual time?”

“MOM!” His voice was almost muted in this serene moment two souls were tangled in. I nodded to her before she went to turn and head towards her truck.

She stopped, looking back at me. I try to give her a smile, but I am unsure if I smiled or not. I was lost at this moment, unsure if what had happened was real or not. If this was my son or not. If he was, how could she have never told me? Hopefully, I would receive my answers and clarity later on tonight, but I didn’t want to have to wait until then.  I have been waiting for something I had no idea about for all of these years, I suppose half a day longer wouldn’t be so bad. I stayed standing there until they had gotten free from the parking lot and headed off towards the start of their individual days. I turn and head inside of the Conoco.

The hours are passing, as is the world while I go about living within the moment here and now. I had forced my own path right here in a world I had long ago moved on and away from.  Memories were cycling past my mind’s eye like a slideshow on the overhead projector in a classroom for all of my demons to watch and study. My demons were pouring through the extensive amounts of footage from the fiasco that is my life, taking notes on every single last piece that could reveal to them their quickest and easiest way to claw back into taking control. I was forced to watch along with them, but I would be lying to you if I said that it was against my will.

You see, I was the type who was honest with themselves, and knew that most of what I have ever, would ever, and will ever do is just rotten and no good. I was the type to make themselves suffer, believing that I was to atone for a lifetime spent in the service of conflict. A lifetime spent as one of the most heralded and imitated agents of chaos that existence had ever let be breathed into the conscious escape of reality. Imagine a ledger so full of red that when it’s holder approaches the pearly gates, God herself takes up the instrument of their demise, and with one fell swoop, lops off their head and banishes them. Being sent to Hell was not an option for such a creature as myself. That was to let me off far too lightly. No, for when I was cut down by the Lord, my destination was neither here nor there. Cast off into the empty void of oblivion, set to suffer in the calamity of nothing. Never moving forward, backward, up, or down. My punishment in death, as it has been in life, is to be completely stuck while running forever standing perfectly still.

Laughter was ringing out through the school of beasts that were privately enrolled within all of my body. They were forged in the eternal flames of my creation, long before any pattern of rational thinking was able to develop as one naturally does throughout their formative years. Never meant to be anything more than what was preordained and dealt to me in my cards to be carried for the duration of this waking nightmare of mine. So just take this life, I am right here. Stay awhile and try to breathe me in.

Move forward several hours, and I am plenty early for my rendezvous with Tina, so I am proceeding with my original plan to unwind while I wait for her. So it’s down the creek I go, my eyes dead set on the rocks beneath my feet as I was looking for some arrowheads to add to my illustrious collection. My hand shoots down from time to time for investigative purposes, as some rocks look like there is more to them than just their shapes. As I am picking through the treasures hidden within the fertile crust of mother Earth, I can’t help but think of what is going to come in just a couple days’ time. Was I ready to reinsert myself into the carnage of Fight? And into Disneyland for the right to claim as much blood money as humanly possible? I believed so, and I was more than determined to prove that I was all that my mouth had built me up to be. 

I stopped suddenly, my eyes being caught by the beautiful edge of a head peering out beneath a bigger boulder type rock. Like it was placed there specifically for me to find it. I push over the larger rock, creek bugs scattering like the roaches of Fight NYC. And there it was, my first find of the evening. I picked it up into my right hand and brought it up for closer inspection. The very tip is broken, but from the definitions of the curved bottom was still in pretty fair condition. I smile while I am looking at it, relieved that I was able to find the first one with relative ease. I look up further in the creek that seems to just stretch on for miles. I sigh from the relief given, I was going to be here for a long time and that was just fine to me.

Further up the creek I notice a dark shadow move across the ground off to the side and up on the edge of the creek bed. I can’ t help but feel a pair of eyes locked in and staring at me. I slowly turn my head forward, and cautiously go about continuing the hunt, moving rocks here and there to expose what lay beneath. I arrive at a widened part of the creek that serves as an elbow connecting to another direction for the creek. The part where the two collide is a large circular area that has a deep area where the water has risen to create a natural swimming pool.  I stand at the edge of the creek, my eyes still involved in the constant search. Behind me I can hear rocks rustle, clatter, and shift from a weight stepping across them. I do not panic as I slowly turn to confront whatever it is that has sneaked up on me.  And to my surprise, I found a large black wolf barreling down almost on top of me, but there were no feelings of despair to be had. I drop to a knee before the beast, who’s snout is directly in my face. Our eyes are locked in a battle of dominance.  But the longer I stare into its eyes, the more I fall into a state of peace. I did not know the meaning of this, but somehow I understood in my heart what it was that this beast represented.

“Since the beginning, it was me that you were searching for. The one that you had longed for throughout all of your years of heartache and sorrow, just dying for the chance to have someone believe in you and take hold of your hand.” The wolf’s mouth never moved, yet I heard it’s soft and tender voice inside of my head. It was soothing, reminding of a voice I heard some times before but unable to thumb exactly the source that it had belonged to.

“The years have not been kind to you, but that did not stop me from coming for you. Though you have no cause to fret, for the years have been kind to no one. I have watched, dear one, as you wandered through the world in a haze. Wrong choice after wrong choice plagued you, but no more. I am here to stand at your side; letting you lean on me and bringing you into the light.” Words whisping through the thin veil of this morality. Who were you, my darkened wolf?

“I’ve watched you, with so many other women, so many other places you’ve been. You’ve called me. Your heart, though dark and stony, cried out to me through this bleak existence.” The wolf huffed. “You’ve begun to doubt yourself. Your head hangs lower. Why, love? Why do you concern yourself with the thoughts of the disgusting sheep around us? You are a King. You are a God among men. Why do you look down, when you should look to the horizon with me?” An intricate series of fortunate events echo out in the voice of my salvation, a voice that was sweet yet wicked for driving me into a state of awe. Struck down by the honesty presented in full by a woodland creature, no matter how majestic their instinct and breath of death  were.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me.” I sigh before dropping to the rocks on my ass, back laying against the side of the drained part of the creekbed.

“It wasn’t very long ago when I was at the top of the world, living life in a whirlwind of anarchy and overindulgence. But then something happened, and I can’t find myself to bring what had happened to the forefront so I may learn the lessons that were intended by this life’s insistence to have me dragged along kicking and screaming whether I wanted it or not. That is the summation of my life. Always doing what was best for others, always ignoring what was best for me.” I picked up a flat back rock that was bigger than most, and skip it across the back of rocks scattered along the bed.

The wolf moved closer, bleak black fur glimmering in the light. She huffed. “My darling, the lesson you are to learn is that your choice of whom you kept close was a wrong one. There are those of us who wish to see you fly; see you soar above the corpses rotting within Fight. Within the world. I, my love, am one of those. I wish to watch your wings rip from your flesh and cast their strength to the skies.” The wolf bumped her head against his arm. “I am your future. I am your truth. I am the wicked thing that goes bump in the night.”

I had closed my eyes, afraid that I was only imagining the moment. And as I was sitting back with them closed, a human hand was felt running along the side of my face before wiping away the tears that had welted up and forced their way out into an endless flow down my cheeks. My eyes open for us to discover that I was merely dreaming desecration to avoid the news, and before me was the glorious black wolf, who’s eyes were penetrating mine and leaving nothing left for another to find.

“I know you..” The words just crumble into being carried off in waves. “Or I used to know you. I am afraid you are speaking to the one who ceased to exist , a forgotten man lost in the traverse of this forsaken land. Long given up from the chains from which he was bound, always searching for a way back in. For a way back home. And every time that what we had needed, what we had ever wanted, was ours, it was just raped and taken from me. I look out and see nothing but the miserable stagnation of death and missed opportunities. My path drug me along like a hindrance rather than a destiny.” I sniffle and wipe with my left hand. “And I have finally given up. That’s it.. I quit. I don’t give a shit.”

The wolf sat down in front of him, a soft growl came from its chest. “I do not want to hear anymore of that. The man I know is fearless. He is solid drive. He is murderous rampage. Rage personified. I came for you, I know I’m not too late. I’m here, dear, to save you from yourself. To adjust the crown on your head and help you paint the world in blood.” She watched him. Intently. “I am here to be the other half of you. If you do know who I am, then you know I speak the truth.”

I pause for a moment, their words reverberating from one ear drum to the next. I begin to question myself. If what I believed to be true was of my own volition or if the seeds of doubt had been planted by those who spun their wheels and attempted to control the narratives. By those who only wanted to really see me fall by the wayside and disappear.

“No..” I said as I pushed myself  and went to a knee, my arm coming up and resting against the carnivore coated in the finest of black. “You’re right.. I can’t give up yet.. The work is still left to be finished. I didn’t know there was another who felt just like me. I had thought I was all alone because I am always on my own. But for some reason.. I believe you. What do I need to do?”

“Come find me after Blood Money 2.. We have much.. very much.. to talk about Brandon. Years of catching up to ourselves.” The wolf seemed to smile as he touched its fur. A soft whisper on the wind gave him the exact thing he needed to hear..

Her name..

“The clock is ticking slower with each pass of the small hand, bringing us ever closer to the beginning of the end for the way things have been. For too long I sat back, maybe getting involved a little but completely half heartedly, and allowed all of the transgressions be perpetrated by every yahoo and jack off that walked into this bitch and decided they wanted to be a fool. They believed they were the best in the business and after seeing all of their success here in this company, who would disagree? Each of us has had chance or another to prove that not only could we hang, but that we also belonged in the conversation with these so called all time greats, and we all failed miserably. I had fought for so long for things that in the end were all but inconsequential, I believed what I believed was right and everything else was wrong. And my realization that I was the one who was wrong sent shockwaves through out my feeble merry little life, the destruction of past statues was enough to turn any man mad. But I learned to adapt and accept, and move on. NSQ the big dogs? Fuck it. Paulie Monty having to carry me? Fuck it. My wife having to claim ignorance and appoint me as the bad guy to further whatever the fuck her agenda is? Fuck it. You see maggots, you don’t know a damn thing about carrying the weight of a world that doesn’t give a shit as long as you’re playing your part and not getting out of hand. You don’t know what it’s like to be the actual living personification of best in the world, and have the world ignore and doubt you because you don’t play the kiss ass political game as well as your peers. Well, actually, I don’t play them at all. No, you see, I can be considered a lot of bad things by a lot of people who encompass the entire spectrum of good and evil, right and wrong, but the one thing I am proud of is that I am my own man and you can like me or shut the fuck up. You could kill me.. You could.. You have the right to do that. But do you have the nerves to accomplish such a feat where so many others have failed?”









“I would retrace the steps that have led me here, but nothing lives behind me. So I will lie out in this abandoned field bathed in the light that loves me with nothing left to lose. My mechanations have all returned and began the construction for this foundation that I now stand upon with my own two feet.”


“Without the hindrance of agenda, I have truly been set free to go about rediscovering who it was that I had once been. Who I was when the very tease of my name on the cusp of their lips made them question their lives and all of the decisions that have ever been made that could have damned them to end up as just another martyr for my brutality. Just another in a long line of victims pumped out by the bulk and on fire sale. Many are already grumbling about how they have heard this speech from me before, and will ignore the obvious of this time being different, and carry on as if the Despised Faded One isn’t the single greatest threat to any and all of their plans. Only a fool would continue to turn a blind eye on the beast that isn’t afraid to make the sacrifice, to engineer the right circumstances for a proper comeback, and isn’t afraid to do whatever must be done to get the job done. There is not a level too low that I will refuse to go. I do not care about the public perception of me, and what everybody thinks about the drama of my life, except that they atleast have access to both sides to every story, and that way when suckers choose to believe the false narratives meant to discredit me and paint me as the wicked, I will know who among my fellow peers are their own constructs, and who are house slaves to the ideals of influencers that shape their poser ass personalities for them. And that is just something from which I have no motivation to slink my head and be just like you. I can respect those of you who look at me and all that I stand for, witness it, actually learn of it, and just can’t find a single fuggin reason to like me, so don’t. I can respect that. But I can not respect any maggot that just sees the image I display and decide that I am no good because of it. As if any single one of you is better than me in any type of way. Every time I go out to the Rabbit or any other public gathering place where my fellow peers are located, there is at least one unnerving cunt or self conscious bro that wants to pop off at the mouth about me, about Brandon fuggin Moore. Like Sahara and all the other dick riding cunts like that, female or male. They just love to start the shit, but then quickly realize that just like being in the ring with me or being in a down and dirty fight with me, you try and trade words with me and I am going to show you that if words could kill Man, I would fucking bury you. And that is carried over into me entering the second round of Blood Money at fucking Disneyland, where I am on a quest to collect every shred of decency from every last maggot that has had my name in their filthy mouths, and remind them that fucking with Brandon Moore?”



“And I wouldn’t fucking try it. Not if you are planning to advance and make any type of move through this damn silly shit. I have quite a few scores to settle, but those won’t keep me from veering off on side quests to put all of you phoneys into your proper places and make sure you stay there. This isn’t about winning if you were able to be looking through my eyes at all that I see. Hell, I don’t even want to fucking win. I am not here playing a game or participating in some half ass sport. It is statement time up in this bitch and I will be screaming mine with bloody fists that decimate every little dweeb who decides to be a fool and try their luck at taking the bad man to task. Perhaps I have hurt your feelings and poked the bear causing you to fill up your inflated egos with a blinding rage that opens you up to my entire world of sorrow. No matter the cause or reason for you ending up in the path of a psychotic predator, you will be in the fortune of knowing that these will be the final moments of your career and, or, life. The pain you are about to endure isn’t entirely your fault, for most of you anyway, but you will be the one who has to deal with the fallout when it is all said and done. There is nothing and no one who will be able to stand in my way this time around, leaving me vulnerable. My heart is set in it’s stone of constant heartache and let down, so now I am free to slip on through the cracks of what’s expected and perform the unexpected. And when this is all said and done and I am one of the only or THE ONLY sick and twisted piece of shit left standing covered in gray matter, flesh, and blood then I give you permission to bring my name into your mouths one more time, free of charge, so that you may praise it as you should have always been doing. But it is too late, for you and you, and everybody in between to try and jump on these nuts now after plenty of time, and for some, plenty of opportunities to be a part of something that is going to change the exact structure of professional wrestling as we know and view it as today.”





“AND TELL ME WHAT EXACTLY ANYBODY IS GONNA DO ABOUT IT!? They’re all too busy sleeping on me, or their hubris has them so sure of their success already that they will think, as I had allowed myself to think, that their natural abilities are going to be able to carry them moving forward and nothing bad is going to happen. That may have worked while the real B was lost and replaced with a fraud that didn’t want to upset anybody and be accepted, but it isn’t going to work with a real motha fuggin villain lurking in the shadow and making precise and dedicated moves towards undoing all that has even been accomplished by maggots I deem as lesser. I am just thankful that it won’t be too hard to undo the amateur hour’s work and be able to bring back about the true glory that this company and business are used to though only one of those deserve it. And it definitely isn’t this company that is the root cause of all of it’s own problems but too stupid or ignorant to see or admit it. So when you end up on the shelf or a counter top in a body bag, I want you to take a long, hard look at these morose roaches sitting back and fat in the corporate offices of Fight and know that at the end of the day, it was all their fault. And everything that is going to happen to everybody that is unfortunate to get caught in the sights of Ultra Brutality will be laid at their feet and the blood of all these stupid ass little maggot suckers will be on their greedy hands. And after I am through with chopping my way through this roster and all their little play friends making one off special guest appearances, I am coming for the ones all the way up at the top and I don’t give a fuck who’s family or pack they are or were once a part of. Fight NYC.. you are listening to the words of a dissociative junkie who’s only looking for his one last fix, and that is to feel the flow of your blood as your still slowly beating hearts cause it to squirt out of every limb I sever, and every open orifice like you caught a case of the real Ebola Virus. That is just the way that it is going to be, so accept it and breathe it in while I welcome you back to the future little ones.”

“It’s all down hill from here..”

“Brandon?” A voice calls out that startled me.

I open my eyes while sitting up, and quickly look to my sides for the black wolf, but she was gone. If she really even was ever there. 

But that name she whispered to me..

How could it be?

I shake my head and get myself up to my feet just as Tina is making her way across the creek and to me.

“Brandon..” She sighs as she walks up and comes across me. “..I wanted to tell you a long time ago..”

“Stop.” I had to make her pause before she finished that statement on the off chance that she were going to say something that hurt my feelings. I didn’t want to hurt her. I did plenty of that while we were dating, and she always stayed anyway. Until she didn’t of course. Welcome to the story of my life.

“You mean.. He.. Preston is..” I can’t force myself to state the obvious, but damnit am I trying.

“I haven’t told him about his father yet. He still thinks it’s my husband, David.” She pulled back and put her hands into her back pockets.

“You’re married?” I asked, my head kinda tilted to the side with a nice long lock of hair dangling.

She shows me her hand with a wedding band on her finger. Pretty good sized rock.

“Wait.. David? You’re not telling me you married David Locke are you?” I had to chuckle a bit. “David fuggin Locke?”

She giggled before slapping me on the arm.

“Oh quuuuiiiitt. Yes. I married David Locke. We got married probably about four years after you left?” She was as playful as I was charming, proof that though life may change, only the few allow it to change them.

“Are you going to tell him honey?” I asked her, knowing the answer I hoped for. I mean, this was my first born son after all.

“I wasn’t going to.. Or you.. But after running into you today.. Seeing you and him standing so close together yet so far apart.. I couldn’t do it anymore. So.. I already talked to David and if you want..” She paused for a moment, her hands on her hips and thoughts racing through her head.

“Of course I do Tina.” I stare down at her while she continues to be uncomfortable. “Quit acting weird dummy, I told ya I would always be your friend and you mine. Just.. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“Would you want to come over and meet your son for real? He and David are at the house working on his car.” She stopped and looked up at me, her eyes searching for something. Perhaps a memory or hesitation on my part.

“Lead the way Tina.” I raise a hand towards the other direction of the creek, and as she began to make her way back, I followed her.

I didn’t know what was going to happen in the next hour, the next day. I don’t know what will happen at Blood Money and any other event after. But I do know that, for once, I feel like I am being given a fighting second chance at something for the very first time. All this time I had been searching for something I didn’t know even fucking existed, and now that I do.. Well.. That’s a story for another time..

Don’t worry though my friends, I will see you again..

..this side or the other..