A lot can happen in a month.
Since Jack Harmen’s loss to Steve Solex for the HOTv championship, the tag team championships have been removed from active competition, the HOFC is in full swing, and Conor Fuse has his World Championship opportunity locked in place against the champ, Sutler Kael.
None of that explains why we open up our visual scene just moments after daybreak. The sun just cusping over the horizon. A rooster crows, awakening an old rustic farm with shattered shutters and broken bars. An abandoned but reclaimed portion of ancient Americana. Acres upon acres of dead land, surrounded by forest in the far distance.
The sun beats down hot, causing even the grass to drip beads of sweat. One of the broken shuttered windows waves, clanking with a thud from the thick summer breeze.
It’s only now that we realize, in the middle of the complex, is a gathering of people. Probably no more than twelve, at most. They all wear dark cloth robes that cover their entire body, revealing only their heads. They all kneel, praying an old Buddhist mantra.
“Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō”
Over, and over.
In front of the kneeling populace is an elevated platform, holding a large wooden wicker chair. Sitting front and center is an unkempt Lunatic, the green haired Wildcard, High Flyer. He hasn’t shaved since losing to Solex, his beard growing at an almost alarming rate. It looks like he hasn’t even changed from his ring attire, as they’ve tattered and worn in the three weeks. His boots long gone as his bare feet have turned beatish red from the sun.
His legs are kicked over the arm rest, displaying his bunions to the crowd. He leans back, looking over his shoulder to a green bikini clad brunette in her early 20s. She wears thick frame glasses and looks like a girl next door type. She struggles, holding a bucket, and uses her free hand to produce a live crab.
Flyer doesn’t react.
So the woman tosses it over her shoulder, into what looks to be an 80 foot hole in the ground that he definitely did not dig himself. The woman continues to present live crabs to Harmen. None please him, each falling to the pit.
Behind him, is a large projector screen. The words?
“BELIEVE IN HARM MEN.”
Suddenly, Flyer’s eyes go wide, he grabs the crab out of the woman’s hand and stands, raising it above his head. The crowd cheers in response.
High Flyer: THIS CRAB!
The crowd quiets to a murmur.
High Flyer: This crab, will help me defeat Bobby Dean.
Flyer narrows his eyes, and then stares toward the crab. He shakes his head in disappointment and tosses it over his shoulder.
High Flyer: NEVERMIND. False prophet.
High Flyer plops back down onto his wicker chair.
High Flyer: Bring me more!
He shouts, waving his hands. The woman leans in. Flyer’s nostril’s flare.
High Flyer: Marci, seriously. I ain’t got time for your bullshit.
Apologetic, the woman speaks through a stammer.
Marci: That was the last crab. Maine told us “They don’t care how much money we have.”
High Flyer sighs.
High Flyer: Listen, I told you. I want to disturb an eco system and an entire fishing industry. How can I do that if you… YOU, tell me no.
Marci: Maine said no, no-
High Flyer: -you know why I built that pit?
Confused, Marci looks over her shoulder to the pit, now filled with about 25 or 30 crabs. She nervously looks back to Flyer.
Marci: To throw crabs into it?
High Flyer: To throw those who defy me into.
Marci: Did… Did those crabs defy you?
High Flyer: … Yes. They looked at me. Like Lee Best does. And said. No, not you. Not today.
Marci: I’m- I’m sorry? What does your wrestling boss have to do with everlasting peace and happiness?
High Flyer: EVERYTHING!
Flyer looks at Marci. His eyes look like he’s Superman using his heat vision to “the Boys” Marci’s face.
CUTTO: High Flyer, sitting in an office chair. A boom mic dips into frame, as he adjusts the lav mic near his clavicle. He nods to the camera.
High Flyer: Test. 1. 2. Eat a dick.
Flyer nods as the camera signals him off frame. From here, a Producer speaks off camera.
Producer: So… High Flyer, Jack Harmen. The former Wrestling phenom, turned voice actor, turned… God? I guess? So please, tell us, how did you get here?
High Flyer: What do you mean? I’ve always been awesome.
A quick montage, edited footage. We see the farm house, with a large welcome banner in the front. We see a few people working the nearby well. One trying to grab a loose chicken. Another planting crops into the dead land.
Producer: You’ve gathered an almost random assortment of followers and claimed this land in the name of Harm Men, is it?
High Flyer: I also call it Harmonism.
Producer: Yes, but that’s a term that seems aligned with harmony, or something that would bring people together.
High Flyer: Alright Philosophy 101, shut up. You don’t think Lee Best wants to see the UTTER POTENTIAL of Bobby Dean finally REMOVED from HOW? Seriously, he’s been in HOW for HOW long, and what has he done?
Producer: Uh…. What have you don-
High Flyer: – EVERYTHING! I’ve BEEN a champion here. I FOUGHT Max Kael. I’ve DONE War Games. I may not have been everything I can, but I’ve SHOWN why I’m a GOD around these parts.
Producer: But… outside this compound, there’s an entire world, which views you as nothing but a has been.
Flyer’s nose can’t help but twitch.
Producer: A person who once WAS. What do you say to the fanbase who once loved you so, only to see you… do… whatever this is?
High Flyer: I’m sorry, why do I care? Look at the people out there, those that believe in me… my Lunatics.
High Flyer: I’ve ascended to Godhood now. I don’t have the worry about petty mortals like you. I have those people out there worshipping the very ground I walk on. And to get that to happen, nameless producer, well, it took a lot of hard work, some natural talent, and being chosen. Pretty simple. I’m High Flyer. I’m a legend. I DESERVE this. I DESERVE to defeat Bobby. I deserve to have my hand raised. I see it now. I can imagine it. It’s so clear.
He smiles again. It’s… disconnected from reality. He then almost “reboots” himself and continues.
High Flyer: … And to have God come down from the Heavens three weeks ago and tell me, YES! You deserve not only what you’ve said you deserve, you deserve MORE. You deserve, it ALL. You deserve to be a GOD yourself. And now, you can know what a GOD knows… that if only you saluted the stars and stripes, you might have overcome yourself and been able to defeat Steve Solex. If only you can conquer YOU, can you defeat the world. You have to believe in yourself like you believe in your country, like you believe in GOD… AKA YOU. IN ME I TRUST, written on sharpie on our money. I’ll become champion in HOW again, now that I’ve seen my flock, they believe. I believe. Do you?
High Flyer: Me! Do you believe that I’ll defeat Bobby Dean SOUNDLY, even if I have to force 40 pounds of crab meat down his gullet? Do you believe that I’ll take this springboard to reclaim my career as the greatest cruiserweight of all time and become the living holy embodiment of FLYING the HIGHEST of OCTANES? Do you believe… I’ll be able to Harm Men?
Producer: I… don’t understand. Aren’t those just buzz words? We’re… we’re actually here because you stole a farm and you’re holding these people hostage. Channel 7 sent me. I’m surprised you let me here to interview you.
High Flyer: Well, obviously you’re my hostage now. It’s like you didn’t think I thought this through. I mean. Well, you’re a follower now. You follow me, or you get thrown in the pit.
Producer: I… No.
High Flyer: Cameraguy, please throw him into the pit.
Producer: Wait, what? Craig. I was at your wedd–
The camera drops and cuts to static, as we hear screams in the background.