New Year, New Me

ON CAMERA - DATE: UNKNOWN, LOCATION: UNKNOWN

The footage that begins to play is not what the fans of Project: Honor would normally expect when tuning in to see the latest promos from their favorite stars. The production value is poor to say the least, more on par with the ‘Found Footage’ films that were popular a decade ago than the crisp presentation they’re used to. The room that this piece is being recorded in is dimly lit and nondescript, with nothing standing out to draw the attention of the viewers with the exception of a single chair in the center. Seated within it, with his hands seemingly tied behind the back of the chair and a canvas bag over his head, is the only individual in the frame, their current state making it impossible to discern who they are. After the unknown camera operator attempts to properly focus on this person for a few moments, the previous silence is broken by a distorted voice from somewhere off-screen.

“The man you see before you is a false idol, a lover of the spotlight that so many of you are drawn to. Like moths to the flame, you flock to his celebrity status, hoping for the opportunity to acquire his signature or a selfie. Like his brethren of actors, musicians, and athletes, you put him on a pedestal that he does not deserve. Today, he will be made an example of in the hopes that at least a few of you will break the cycle of celebrity worship.”

The unidentified man struggles against his bindings, but his efforts are of no use. Whoever has secured him to the chair has done their job well.

“Who we are is not important. What we represent is something far greater. Your television and movie screen idols have been lying to you, and today we reveal their true face. Today you will see the evil that you have unknowingly been supporting with your hard-earned dollars and misguided fandom.”

When the off-screen voice fades away, another individual moves into the frame, their arrival forcing the camera to blur as it once again attempts to focus. This new arrival’s attire is as nondescript as the room itself, and a simple black ski mask completely hides their identity. Without any kind of dramatic flair or showmanship, this new arrival reaches out to grab the canvas bag over the bound man’s head, pulling it away quickly to reveal the face of “Furious” Julius Fairweather underneath.

“Motherfuckers! I’m about to break my foot off in somebody’s ass!”



OFF CAMERA - 24 HOURS EARLIER

The Mall of America was the site of one of last year’s strangest matches, but while Julius was fighting for his life against other members of the Project: Honor roster, the other occupants of the Fairweather household had been shopping. Now, with the holiday season officially over, Julius and his mother have returned to the mega mall so that they can cash in their gift cards, exchange clothes for more accurate sizes, and return the crap that they didn’t want in the first place.

“I know you’re disappointed about not winning the Prime Title, but there’s nothing better to cure those blues than some shopping therapy! You just stay close to Momma though; I don’t want us to get separated in this big ol’ place.”

Julius pretends that it’s his mother who doesn’t want to get lost, trying to ignore the fact that he will perpetually be a child in her eyes. As mother and son work their way through the crowd, one of the many stores catches Momma Fairweather’s attention.

“Ooh! Victoria’s Secret! That Joey Fatone boy got me the nicest lingerie set, but he had the cup size all wrong. We need to go there next so I can find something a little more flattering!”

Julius stops dead in his tracks.

“Nuh-uh. No way. That ain’t happening, Momma. I didn’t drive you all the way back here to watch you dig through some lacy unmentionables!”

Momma Fairweather tugs on her son’s arm while giving him a big grin.

“Oh, don’t be that way! Fatone’s gift was so thoughtful, and I just have to find one that fits!”

Despite her best efforts, Julius’ feet remain firmly planted.

“Not gonna happen, Momma. I’ll tell you what, how about if I go get us some tasty beverages while you take care of your business. I’ll meet you right back here in front of the store.”

There is a slight look of concern on his mother’s face as she considers his offer, but finally, Momma Fairweather relents.

“Okay then. Just promise me you won’t go too far. You go to the nearest food stand, get our drinks, and then you come straight back here! No dawdling now, you hear?”

“Yes, Momma.”

Momma Fairweather gets on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Julius’ cheek, then gives him another smile, and reluctantly makes her way into Victoria’s Secret alone. Once she’s out of sight, Julius lets out a heavy sigh and begins to look for the nearest soda machine. After a few moments, he finally spots a sign for restrooms, elevators, and refreshments, and quickly makes his way in that direction. Julius steps into a side hall away from the mall’s main walking area, sizing up the Coke machine in front of him. After digging out a handful of change from his pocket, he begins slipping coins into the machine. As he eyes the selections carefully, he is blissfully unaware of everything else around him, leaving him wide open for the three men to charge him from behind.

One of the men immediately slips a canvas bag over his head while the other two grab hold of his arms. There is a brief struggle, one in which a trained fighter like Julius would eventually take the advantage, until a fourth man rushes forward to smack a slapjack over Julius’ head. Before anyone nearby notices that something strange is going on, Julius’ body is dumped into a large rolling cart normally reserved for collecting trash. Then, as if nothing had happened, the four men make their way toward the nearest exit with their captive secured.



OFF CAMERA - 20 HOURS AGO

Julius had been tied to the chair since he regained consciousness, but with the bag over his head, he had no idea where he had been taken or how much time had passed. No matter how hard he struggled, his efforts to escape had been in vain, and no matter how loud he yelled, no one had bothered to answer. That’s when he heard a loud click and could see light shining through the material of the canvas bag covering his head. His recent interactions with the secret society known as The Purple Reign were still foggy in his mind, but he remembered enough from that clandestine meeting to call out one name in particular.

“Prince! You velvet-wearing motherfucker! I told you once, I don’t want to be a part of your anti-Illuminati party! You’d better untie me before I decide to shove a Raspberry Beret up your undead ass!”

While calling out the leader of The Purple Reign had been a shot in the dark, it managed to earn results. Moments after his threat, an unknown male voice answered him.

“I assure you, while I appreciate your attempt at throwing us off, we are not fooled. We know you had a clandestine meeting with The Secret Society Leader formerly known as Prince, and we also know that no one would refuse the opportunity to stand with him in The Purple Reign. You are a card-carrying member of that group, and as such, we are going to make an example out of you in front of the entire world.”

Julius was still in his chair for a moment as something about the voice seemed eerily familiar. That didn’t stop him from shouting his own response.

“Motherfucker, you don’t know shit! I ain’t no goddamn member of The Purple Reign! Hell, I’m still not sure how much of that crazy shit was a dream! So, whoever you are, you’d best untie me now before this little joke goes too far!”

“This is no joke, Julius. Later this week, you will compete in a main event on AMC’s Fallout with millions of eyes upon you. Only it won’t be as the Julius Fairweather the fans have come to know and love. It will be as the newest member of our Global Illuminati…as our brainwashed assassin.”

Again, the voice speaking to him was strangely familiar, but Julius couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Who the fuck is that? Jacob Steele? Matt Knox? I know it’s one of you motherfuckers who’s gonna be in that match with me. You think these little games are gonna give you an edge? Did Arik Holt put you up to this shit? Castle, are you out there laughing your ass off right now?”

No answer. Instead, Julius heard a loud click and could tell through the canvas material covering his face that a light had been turned off. He had been left alone in the dark once again.



MEANWHILE

“ATTENTION MALL OF AMERICA SHOPPERS, WE HAVE A CODE BILLY CURRENTLY IN PROGRESS. IF ANYONE SEES A BOY NAMED JULIUS, HIS CONCERNED MOTHER CAN BE FOUND IN THE SECURITY OFFICE ON LEVEL ONE. LITTLE JULIUS IS ABOUT SIX FOOT THREE INCHES AND WEIGHS TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE POUNDS. HE IS BALD AND IS WEARING AN EYEPATCH. HE MAY BE EMOTIONALLY DISTRAUGHT AND IS PRONE TO USE FOUL LANGUAGE.”



ON CAMERA - NOW

“You’d best untie me now, motherfuckers! I’m about to rain down some great vengeance and…”

“Furious anger?”

The distorted voice continues to come from somewhere off screen where a bright light shines directly at Julius’ face, keeping him as confused about the voice’s identity as the rest of us.

“Ladies and gentlemen, many of you will recognize this man as “Furious” Julius Fairweather, a competitor for the wrestling organization known as Project: Honor. To many of you, he is a larger-than-life celebrity, a man to be idolized and adored. The sad truth is you have all been fooled. This man is a vile and evil member of a secret organization of celebrities who want nothing less than the complete dissolution of all organized government, so that anarchy and chaos can thrive in the streets. Tonight, we will show you his true face, the true face behind all of the celebrities you’ve been tricked into worshipping. Julius, do you have any last words for the innocent people who you have duped into idolizing you?”

For a moment, Julius stares ahead, seething with anger. Then, after a few deep breaths, he begins to speak.

“Yeah, I’ve got something to say. I’m set to fight in some kind of motherfucking Reach for the Stars Match this week against seven opponents, and I know one of you sick motherfuckers is behind this shit. You think you can get an edge over Julius by treating him like the motherfucking hostage in an action movie, but that’s where you’re mistaken. When it comes to cinema, I’m the goddamn leading man, the motherfucking action hero. So, if you think tying me to a chair and keeping a bag over my head is gonna make me lose my edge in the ring, you’ve got another thing coming!”

The distorted voice from off-screen attempts to interrupt…

“This has nothing to do with…”

…but to no avail.

“Shut the fuck up, Dr. Claw! I ain’t finished yet! First, I’m gonna take a long look at the prime suspects, starting with the most likely motherfucker to mess with my head, Slade Castle. You may have pulled a fast one on me and Petey at Wired Consequences by choosing me as your partner. I admit that shit threw me off my game. I can even respect that kind of play, cause it’s the kind of thing I might have done myself. The thing is, I’m still one of the tag team champions, and it doesn’t matter if you’re my fourth new partner or my tenth, I’m gonna keep those motherfucking belts as long as I damn well feel like it. So, if you think being forced to team up with you is gonna send Julius spiraling out of control, you’re dead wrong, motherfucker. Prepare to have your ass elevated like a clown on stilts, cause when I’m in your corner, you ain’t gonna do nothing but win!”

“Of course, this week, I ain’t in your corner at all. It’s every man for himself, and you’d better believe there’s a big old target on your back that I’m gonna be aiming for. You’ve opened up Pandora’s Box, motherfucker, and all the plagues of ancient Egypt won’t have a damn thing on the shit I’m gonna be throwing your way!”

Again, the voice tries to interrupt…

“Pandora’s Box was Greek. I don’t think it has anything to do with Egypt…”

“And I told you to shut the fuck up, motherfucker! Right now, I’m talking to Slade Castle, so unless you’re him, I suggest you give that voice distorter a break before I literally break it off in your ass! Castle, I’m starting to think it’s a good thing you’re a member of the True Society, cause as much as I hate that group, you’re gonna need all the help you can get to save yourself from what’s coming your way. Which brings me to my next suspect…”

“...the original Motherfucking Friend of Fairweather himself, Mr. Matt Knox. I shouldn’t be surprised that The Raven has joined up with a group like The True Society, cause once upon a midnight dreary, we almost had a little group of our own. Then Knoxxy and everyone else on Team Fairweather took a powder, leaving me to fight the motherfucking forces of darkness on my own. That’s okay, I don’t hold a grudge. Besides, in your absence, I became the motherfucking face of Fallout, and whether Syndicate or Havoc like it or not, they know that’s a motherfucking fact.”

“So now Knox is back from outer space, and I just walked in to find him here with that sad look upon his face. Well, Knoxxy, I would have changed that stupid lock and made you leave your key if I’d had known for just one second that you’d be back to bother me. So, consider this your one chance, Matthew, to go on and walk back out that door. Just turn around, cause your ass ain’t welcome here anymore. I mean, weren’t you the one who left me high and dry? Did you think I’d crumble? Did you think I’d lay down and die? Oh no, not I. I survived, motherfucker. In fact, I thrived. You ain’t ready to come back to this world with a motherfucker like me at the gates, so turn around and say goodbye while I’m still giving you the chance.”

“Speaking of Ravens and comebacks, Elena DeDraca is in the match as well. Hell, I picked her to win this motherfucking thing on the occasion that I don’t get the job done myself. That’s because I’m smart enough to respect someone who’s been the Legacy Champion two different times and beat down everyone in the process like she was the only one working at a Happy Ending Massage Parlor. That bitch is bad news for me, for my opponents, and for everyone who looks at her sideways.”

“The thing is, Elena ain’t never been in a match with me before. Whether that’s been by design or divine intervention, it’s a very important fact to consider. Can The British Raven turn The Bad Motherfucker into a simp? Can Julius toss her cookies and chow down on that cheesecake until she’s a quivering mass of leftover Christmas pudding? Maybe, just maybe, we’ll get the chance to find out if our paths cross this Thursday. Then again, maybe the Royales with Cheese would go good with some homemade baked goods? Now that…is something that should keep the rest of you up late at night with a motherfucking panic attack.”

The figure behind the unseen voice sees their opportunity to interject again…

“I’m telling you; this isn’t a wrestling angle…”

…but it still doesn’t pay off.

“Don’t try breaking my motherfucking concentration! I’m a roll here! I’m firing on all cylinders, so I might as well bring up my next opponent, my old buddy, Jason Long! I know you’ve been busy with Jacob Steele and Arik Holt, so I don’t think you’re the one who’s tied me to this chair, but I ain’t gonna leave you off of my list of usual suspects! I know you’re in a dark place right now, just like any man would be if he had the kind of year you did. Wins and losses, ups and downs, love and hate, death and rebirth…you’ve just about seen it all. In fact, you’ve been to both ends of the motherfucking rainbow so many times that I can’t keep track of whether we're friends or enemies at this point. All I know is that you are a badass in the ring, and much like Elena, I reserve a certain level of respect for you.”

“Of course, that doesn't mean shit when we’re on opposite sides, does it? With Arik’s mystery prize up for grabs, you might be willing to cut my head off with a motherfucking katana. On the flippity-flip, I might be willing to castrate your crazy ass with a rusty spoon. That’s the crazy thing about us being in matches together. One night we might kill each other, and the next we might make everyone else think JuLong is a legitimate shipping situation. Only this time I ain’t gonna wait and follow your lead. My days of being along for the ride ended a long time ago when I had your back against Drago and Pyro. This ain’t gonna be no sidekick situation, Jason. It’s gonna be me knocking your crazy ass out before you get the chance to do it to me.”

“Which brings me to your smarter and more charismatic better half, the marvelous Mrs. Mavis-Long. Savannah, I looked at you like my little sis long before we were in Big Drip together. You’ve had my back and I’ve had yours. Hell, we’ve even had a lot of fun along the way. Which is why I feel comfortable enough to say this…are you out of your goddamn mind? You’re gonna agree to marry Jason Long when he’s got one foot outside of the motherfucking asylum? I mean, goddamn, at least you had the common sense to turn down Arik Holt but marrying either of those motherfuckers right now is asking for a serious blend of romantic comedy and horror movie massacre bullshit!”

“I’m not bringing your name up because I think you’re the one who tied me to this chair. I know better than that. I’m just using this opportunity as your protective big brother should. I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, 'cause it seems crazier than the Mad Hatter on a mushroom binge. They say that love prevails, and I’ve always rooted for you and Jason in the past. It’s just that things are way too whack right now to have your brain befuddled by nuptials! Whatever happens in your crazy ass romantic life or our upcoming match, just know that Julius will continue to have your back. You’re a good kid, and the motherfucker who hurts you is gonna have both my boots up their ass. Unless of course, I have to hurt you myself this Thursday.”

“Now someone I don’t have any love for is Druscilla White. We had our dance very recently, and my gameplan then was to treat you like you didn’t belong in that match with me and Havoc. Whether or not that played a part in you losing the match, we may never know, but I sure as hell had fun treating you like a rookie at a hazing ritual. I said that you were Valkyrie's second-rate replacement in that match, and seeing how that motherfucker turned out, I’m not about to take it back. I did learn that you can put up a fight though, and you’d best believe I’ll be ready for everything you’re bringing to the ring Thursday night.”

“I said you wouldn’t stand in my way of beating Havoc, and I guess I was wrong since he beat your ass and not mine. That’s okay, 'cause I’ll continue to learn and get better as I enter my second year in this fucked up business. As for you? You’ll continue to play second fiddle to Julius motherfucking Fairweather if we keep getting booked against each other. Maybe Arik likes seeing his True Society ladies get put in their place by a bigger, stronger man. Well cuckold Holt is gonna get everything he wants and more if that’s the case, cause I’m fixing to give you another beating that will have him standing at attention, one way or another.”

When the off-screen voice interrupts this time, it carries a sincere lack of patience.

“What the…will you please stop? That kind of language isn’t fit for television…”

“Oh, no? Well, that’s too fucking bad because I ain’t done yet. There’s one more motherfucker in the match, and he might even be the one who tied me to this chair! If only I could remember his name…let me think for a second…oh yeah! Fuck you, Jacob Steele!”

Julius pauses for a moment as if he expects the man behind the camera to speak up.

“Now I’m done. Do your worst, motherfucker.”

“Finally…”

A pair of men enter the frame, both with their faces obscured like the man who removed Julius’ mask earlier. They first fasten his legs to the chair with a pair of metal shackles, then secure him by the waist and torso with leather straps. Once they are certain that he’ll be unable to stand, they untie his arms from behind the chair and bring them to the armrests, fastening them with another pair of metal shackles.

“This shit is getting kinky. Arik, are you sure that’s not you talking through that Transformer walkie talkie?”

There is no response as the two masked men then raise a headpiece from behind the chair, placing it over Julius’ forehead. While Julius cannot see the series of thick wires and electrodes that are protruding from it, they likely come as a threatening surprise to the viewers at home. Finally, it would seem that Julius is fully secured in the makeshift electric chair, at which point, the voice rings out again.

“And now you shall witness the transformation of Julius Fairweather as we reveal his true…shit...goddamn batteries...”

Having some unforeseen difficulties with his voice modulator, there is a brief commotion off screen. Meanwhile, an expression of recognition comes over Julius’ face.

“Holy shit! I knew I recognized that voice earlier! You’re that motherfucking lizard alien who poses as a Texas senator!”

“What…? I…don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Ted Cruz? Is that your fat-ass back there? Motherfucker, you’ve been stalking my Twitter account for months! I ought to shove your second amendment where the sun doesn’t shine!”

“You’re…mistaken. I have a very common voice. I am definitely NOT Ted Cruz!”

“The hell you ain’t! I’ve watched enough Fox News and CNN when I’m getting high to know that voice anywhere! I’m getting sick of these motherfucking secret societies fucking up my motherfucking shit!”

“Please…you don’t know what you’re talking about. I am not Ted Cruz and even if I was, I am definitely not a member of the Illuminati…”

“You’re the motherfucking Zodiac Killer! I saw it on Reddit!”

“That’s never been proven! I mean…start the process!”

“There’s gonna be hell to pay when I get outta here! I don’t care if you’re GOP, FCC, DEA, or POTUS…I’m about to whoop all your political asses….AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!”

The lights shining toward Julius in the simple room begin to flicker as someone from off-screen flips a switch and activates the chair he’s strapped to. Visible currents of electricity flow from the metal halo surrounding his head, attacking his skin with crackling bolts of blue energy. All Julius can do is scream as if his soul is being forcefully torn out of his body while he writhes within the torturous contraption.

“M-M-M-MOTHER-R-R-F-F-FUCKER-R-R-RSSSS….AAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!”

He endures the mental and physical pain for what seems like an eternity, until a series of sparks erupt from his chair, accompanied by the sound of popcorn over an open flame. Then…everything falls silent and dark. Those present in the room are exposed to the smell of ozone, smoke, and burnt flesh as they wait for someone to restore the power. Eventually, that is exactly what happens, showing us the unmoving form of Julius Fairweather, his head slumped forward, his body unmoving. From somewhere off screen, the voice of the man who is most definitely not Ted Cruz begins to speak.

“Now, feast your eyes upon the true face that hides behind the mask of fame and fortune. Look upon one of your beloved celebrities to see Satan’s smiling countenance. Look upon his works, ye mighty, and despair!”

Slowly, Julius begins to raise his head, his eyepatch having been blasted away by the uncontrollable spasms within his body. His head, once bald, now adorned by short white hairs that stand on end, and his eyes, once a rich brown now an electric blue. Most of all, the smile on his face and the sharp fangs that protrude from it, is nothing like he’s expressed before.

“I give to you all…Julius FOULweather! Bwha ha ha ha ha!!!”