The 5 Time Academy

I hadn’t seen, nor spoken to Max in over three years. The closest I came was over a month ago when his sub-marquis…fuck I can’t remember all those names…the little cunt with the floppy hat who does all Max’s talking. Anyway, he brought me a message stating that all would be forgiven if I joined the eMpire at War Games.

Fuck that. Max and I had been close friends once upon a time. It was a strange friendship. It came at a time when I was feeling lost in my career. I could barely string a win together, and I was getting over a bitter divorce. Max picked up the pieces and took me under his wing. He likes doing that. Part of me would later wonder if Max was just trying to manipulate me into providing some kind of purpose for him. He was good at that. 

Still, he sucked me into his world and taught me how to have fun again. I would later fuck him over for my own gain. I’m not ashamed of it. But I do miss his friendship. Of all the allies I have ever had, Max is the only one whom I could see the evil on the outside. I think that’s why I liked him so much. 

Anyway, I need to hear this shit from the horse’s mouth. I cannot enter War Games with the most unpredictable and dangerous man I have ever known, without at least speaking to him one on one. My need to speak with him brought back the memories of when we first crossed paths. I’m feeling as lost and lonely as I ever did. Mock me if you want. I don’t care. I wear my heart on my sleeve and something is wrong with me lately. Maybe Max, amongst all his madness, can help me realise what that is. 

I had never been to the illustrious Five Time Academy before. It reminded me of my own wrestling school which I once owned. Named only, the Academy. Based in Liverpool, England, were I once held shares in an arena when HOW was at its peak. When it had gone Global and all the biggest stars had earned so much money we were able to invest in the company and buy arenas around the World.

It would later leave me bankrupt.

I had hoped to meet with the ‘Hot Lad’ himself, Cecilworth M.J. Farthington, but it seems he’s tied up in his OCW affairs over in China, or Korea..Japan? I suppose I will just have to check in with him when we get to War Games. My road trip will soon be coming to an end, and I will be locking myself down, focusing on nothing but my training and preparation for War Games.

Anyway, as I said, it reminded me of my own school, but only in name. My wrestling dojo was nothing more than brick and mortar, with simplistic equipment and decor to remind all students who trained there of the job in hand and where they hoped to aspire to be. Michaels academy was state of the art. Top notch, scientific, equipment and squeaky clean floors. 

I had spent some time on the shop floor, mingling with the students, soaking up the smell of sweat and determination. I felt right at home. That was until the shrill voice of the man currently inhabiting the place cut through me like a fork on a chalk-board. 

 

Tampa, FL

The Five Time Academy

“John?”

The thin and raspy voice of Maximillian Kael, HOW World Champion and long winded title horder calls from across the gym floor of his home away from home, 5 Time Academy in Tampa Florida. Slithering between the various pieces of gym equipment, the greasy haired Prime Minister of the Empire oiled his way toward John Sektor who had been keeping company with one of the younger trainees.

Max Kael: “Terry, get back to work!”

Max snarls at the trainee whose face becomes a mix of fear and confusion. Whatever he and Sektor had been discussing? Max’s sudden arrival cut the conversation short. 

Powers McGrapples: “My name isn’t Terry, I’m Pow-”

Max Kael: “WORK! TERRY! NOW!”

Max snapped the words at the younger man as he slunk up toward the two men, his crystal, eerie blue eye shifting from Not-Terry toward John Sektor. Max’s face was a twisting mass of annoyance and frustration as he glared at John before his lips peeled back over his dagger like metal teeth.

Max Kael: “Why are you here, John? It’s not a good time if you want to work some kind of a.. A promo or something for War Games. I’m very.. Very busy unless you’re here to see Mike.. because if you are he’s flown up to North Korea for the next week because of, well, the federation where he actually wrestles. I’m stuck here.. You know..”

Suddenly Max’s skin becomes a little paler, the shallow patina of his cheeks more noticable. His blue eye shifts back and forth as he appears, for the first time, a little panicked. 

Max Kael: “..definitely NOT cause I lost my Herald and the World Title in one day… Cause that’s preposterous, I can’t believe you’d even accuse me of that! Erroneous statements made at a time like this?! Uh.. uhh…. WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

Max finally demands having completely ran himself around in circles attempting badly to not seem as obviously flustered and lost as he was. 

Sektor’s jaw hangs open, stunned into silence from Max’s rant out of the blue, about seemingly nothing. 

Sektor:uhm…Okay.” the Gold Standard begins, blinking furiously to try and process Max’s insane ramblings. “I spoke to Mike on the phone and he said you would be lurking around here. I’m only interested in speaking to those who will be in the trenches with me at War Games.”

Sektor pauses, he had been speaking very slowly and deliberately, wanting to choose his words carefully and make sure that Max understood him, as he could tell Max was clearly in one of his ‘unhinged’ moods. 

Sektor: “To be clear, I certainly haven’t come here to accuse you of anything. I merely wanted to see how you are, and clearly you’re fine..”

He leaves his sarcastic comment hanging in the air. Max stares at Sektor for a moment as his brain slowly pieces together that Sektor wasn’t here about the Herald or the HOW World Title and relaxed a little. A smug chuckle crackles between his chapped lips while his posture eases. 

Max Kael: “Oh.. jeez you wanna see how I am? Oh I’m fine, you know, I’m doing great. I mean I was stuck in North Korea for two years where I was forced to fight for the amusement of a tyrannical dictator who liked to use me to attack and.. And well my lawyers have indicated I can’t really talk about my time in North Korea but yeah, stuff happened and it was not all sunshine and moon beams. And now that I’m free.. I’m working for a tyrannical dictator who likes to use me to hurt other people. So.. I mean.. I guess everything is kind of the same. Body hurts, brain is going and I’m slowly replacing all my body parts with metal replacements and I live in a body brace. How are you?”

Max’s reply runs the gambit of sarcasm and passive aggressive discourse while his face carries a constant soured frown. He crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs his shoulders when completed leaving it up in the air as to if he really cares about how John is doing.

The Gold Standard scratches his cheek and squinted his eyes as he gathers his thoughts, clearly realising that his task to reconcile with Max was not going to be straight forward.

Sektor: “I’m gonna level with ya, I’m not great,” he sighs, looking Max straight in the eye. “Me and Scotty had a heated exchange of words and pretty much agreed that we both fucking hate each other, so that’s one member of our team I know I can’t rely on.”

Sektor speaks in a very matter of fact manner but is clearly frustrated.

Sektor: “So then I decided to pay Halitosis a visit. Figured I would try to glue our little gang of misfits together ready for the big dance at War Games. That went well. Pretty sure I pissed him off.”

Sektor stares at Max, a look of helplessness passing over him.

Sektor: “So now I’m left with you and Mr Farthington. The two guys who I know best and have worked well with in the past. But I also know you still harbour a lot of shit from days gone by.” 

Max Kael: “Listen, John, Johnny, J-Sek, buddy.. I’m HOW World Champion. I’m on a War Games team that includes the guy I took the title from and at least two guys who want the World Title to be ripped off my shoulders and placed directly over their own.. Right John?”

Max lazily saunters forward, leaning toward Sektor as he hissed the words between his metal teeth. His blue eye stays locked on Sektor’s own as a saccharin sweet grin stretches over his face. 

Max Kael: “I don’t give a shit what you’re trying to do. I have my own business to attend to, my own little tragedies to look after. Having a hard time figuring out how to win over Scottywood? Did you bring him craft beer and a bat wrapped in whatever metal pointy thing they’re putting on wire these days? Mike didn’t pick any of us because of our outstanding history of being team players, he selected us because he trusts us to each do whatever we can to win the match. Not to sit around a fire or some such and pretend like we’re a team. In all of this I have a higher calling right now, Friend, and that is destroying HOW as it exists today.”

Max finishes his little monologue and dusts off Sektor’s shoulders with his wiry, twisted fingers before straightening out his shirt, all of it feeling rather demeaning. 

Max Kael: “You worry about not getting pinned or tapping out.. And I’ll imagine everyone else will do the same.. And then we’ll win and I can finally KILL this company.”

The life in Sektor’s eyes seemed to be fading as he stares back at Max hopelessly. Eventually he slaps both hands on his thighs, as a signal that he has given up.

Sektor: “You’re right. Obviously I’ve been wasting my fucking time. You know, I just look at the Best Alliance and see what a tight knit group they are. A well oiled machine. A fucking Army!”

His voice is increasing in both grit and volume the more he speaks.

Sektor: “And what are we  hmm?” he asks, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. “A bunch of fucking barbarians? You’re right Max. We never stood a chance of working as a team. And I’m officially DONE trying. HOW can die and you can all fucking burn with it for all I care.” 

Max Kael stares at Sektor for a moment before he let out a shrill, harsh laugh, his mouth widening painfully as bloody, diseased gums became visible, a stark contrast to the silvery fangs that had been drilled in to replace the ones he had ripped out several months ago. Max once again slithered around Sektor, his laughing devolving into tiny little giggles and wheezing coughs.

Max Kael: “So serious! The Best Alliance, a well oiled Machine? Heh-heh.. No, I mean, sure perhaps in appearance but the only thing that binds them together is their collective ego..which is what you need to learn to control Johnny-boy. Haven’t you figured it out yet? I want this company to die, I want this whole thing to come crashing down around our heads! And we’ll a-go down burning with it! Me, you, Eric Dane, MJF, Scottywood, Cecilworth.. All of us! So.. you go off and do whatever you need to do to get this whole Grr we need to be a team out of your silly little system. You were the twat that came wandering around here a few months ago high on Heroin saying how you wanted to be done with all this.. That you were just here for a paycheck to feed the dragon. Now you care? Now it all matters?.. Please..”

Turning his back on Sektor, Max oozed cruelty and confidence, a smug, lingering smirk stretched over his cracked lips while his blue eye lazily peered back at Sektor.

Max Kael: “..we’re better than a team anyway John.. We’re each our own nation. We don’t need an army.. We’re all an individual army. Trust in the ways of the eMpire, John, and maybe.. Just maybe you’ll get to burn in the best seat in the house with us.”

Sektor merely shakes his head and lets out a deflated gasp.

Sektor: “So it’s alone then..” 

Sektor’s voice is quiet and solemn, as he looks at Max with a child-like helplessness in his eyes.

Sektor: “Just like the last three fucking years..”

Max cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy, watching as Sektor turns without uttering another word and begins to quietly leave towards the exit of the gymnasium. Sektor hears a raucous cackle of laughter coming from behind him, the trademark maniacal laugh of the Prime Minister himself, who he knew better than anyone. 

 

When I reflect on my journey over the past week or so, I don’t really know what I hoped to achieve. I suppose apart of me was looking to form a bond with someone. I’d hoped that being in a team again would provide me with some human contact, which I’d been lacking for such a long time. I know. It’s sad and pathetic. The Legendary John Sektor yearns to have a ‘friend.’ I don’t do well in the real world. I tried marriage. I tried fatherhood, and I failed miserably. I have more in common with psychopaths like Max and Idiot Savant’s like Farthington. Yet it appears I repel even my own team mates. 

But Max is completely right. I knew it deep down, but I guess I needed to hear it. 

Fuck Max!

Fuck Scottywood!

Fuck Farthington!

Fuck Halitosis!

Fuck Mike!

FUCK LEE!

Fuck em’all! I don’t need them. When War Games is over I’m on my own again and that’s how it is. That’s how it has to be. 

I didn’t join them to strike up old friendships. I joined them because they scare me more than the Best Alliance ever could. We are FIVE different personalities. Different ways of thinking. Different methods of attack, all coming at them as one unit but from FIVE different angles. 

The Best Alliance is just one. And we know what your attack is. You don’t stand a chance and you never did. You have no clue and no idea how to even begin thinking about picking us apart. Right now you’re scrambling, clutching at straws and trying to get into our heads but it’s impossible. 

You’re all treading water. 

So what happens when all of this is over?

Max and Farthington seem hell bent on watching HOW burn to the ground and seem to relish the thought of being there during it’s dying embers. You guys in the BA want HOW to be reborn in your image. 

The Defiance image.

Let’s face it. How is on the verge of becoming a rebranded Defiance, a final way for Eric Dane to shove his cock up Lee’s ass after all those petulant years of abuse. And Lee is more than willing to bend over. I’d spent a good while waiting, wondering when yours and Lee’s personalities would finally crash. You’ve done so well, Eric, to mind your P’s and Q’s. You’ve been all:

‘Yes’m boss, thank you boss, can I get you anything BOSS?!’

Really, I know deep down that you fucking hate answering to Lee. You hate his ideas. You hate his vision. You hate his MIND! It was the same in UTAH. You tried to be the company man. You tried to be another plain old wrestler on the books. But before long you were shoving your nose into how the company should run, butting heads with Wingate..meddling in all the politics, trying to turn the gears and ended up getting yourself…temporarily…FIRED! But your a boss! The End Boss, right? You think like a boss, therefore you are a boss, but in HOW Lee is your boss and it eats your SOOOOUUUUUL!  

You want control and your biding your time, thinking that maybe this War Games will gift you the World title, and you’ll finally get some control over this company. 

Maybe you will. As I said, I’ve been waiting but it hasn’t happened. Perhaps Lee has gone soft. Perhaps he realises that if he doesn’t keep you sweet you’ll pack your bags and take Linds, Dan, MJ and Flyer with you. Maybe he’s scared of you. 

Did you even realise this, Eric? The power that you actually hold over Lee? Maybe now  the cogs are ticking, eh? Maybe now you’ll become that thorn in Lee’s side and the true death of HOW will happen as your combined ego’s force the whole thing to fucking implode.

But I won’t allow it. Any of it. 

I feel an overwhelming urge to defend HOW’s glory days. Fuck the refueled era. Fuck burning it to the ground. And FUCK DEFIANCE! 

I am the protector of HOW and everything that has paved the way to what it was at its best and I believe it can be great once again. I’ve already told you that the eMpire will reign supreme at War Games. That was never in doubt. The question remains:

Who will leave with the key to the company?

And who will leave with its soul?

I am of course referring to the World and Icon titles. To symbols that I have held separately and together. In 2014 I dominated High Octane Wrestling with both of those belts. I can only leave with one. 

I plan on nothing less than being the last man standing, with the High Octane World title held high above my head. The key to the company. The key to change. The key to having the power I need to make this company great again. 

 

I am the Gold Standard.

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