Post by LACKLAN on Aug 3, 2018 21:36:45 GMT -5
Hello, dear children
Today, I find myself thinking about God’s plan. He has one for all of us, though it is often up to us to find our own way to His grace. It is often up to us to make our own decisions, make our own mistakes, as we look for His path. And as such, it is up to us, up to His followers, to always be looking for Him, always be seeking out hints of the warm blanket that is His embrace. It is up to us to always be looking at the future and where we are headed.
I find myself facing two opponents this week who traditionally have difficulty both in understanding their present and looking toward their future. I see this as a time in which I can show them the error of their ways as well as the brilliance that is mine, so that they, like all of you, can find your true and great selves through the worship of the me. This is a pivotal time in their lives, a time when they can be brought back to the Light, or find themselves so far into the debris-filled rough on the side of the road as to be refuse themselves.
Mister Pierce is a man who always seems to be concerned in the wider world but wholly ignorant of it. Flippant remarks, only a handful of which actually contain much in the way of wit, about a politician or some hapless fool enjoying his fifteen minutes have certainly earned him some giggles from his peers, but little in the way of respect. Indeed, some would go so far as to say that his inability to focus on what matters, to focus on what IS, has caused those peers to resent him. Oh, they will laugh and sigh, perhaps even guffaw, at his barbs thrown at the current president, but after weeks and weeks of Mister Pierce clearly not caring about wrestling any more, even so much as to produce promotional videos were he doesn’t bother talking about his match or his opponent, those laughs have diminished. The smiles his peers offer him do not quite meet the eyes.
This is a reality that Mister Pierce must face. He has recently been despondent with the work he has been doing with his media company, publicly arguing with those he works with and clearly satisfied with his own content. If only he would be so critical of his in-ring work. The three people within this match are all former champions within this company, and even though he has so recently earned the Chaos championship, his substandard focus on what is important is going to be the weight he bears going into our match. He nonchalantly referred to the Champion of Chaos as to having a “good run,” as if what I accomplished as the focal point of this company for so long, was but a pat on the head of a dog, but the truth of the matter is that his own “run” as the Cross-Hemisphere was a farcical affair which diminished the title’s shine and prestige to the point where Miss Lockheart and Doctor Baal must try to murder one another just to bring it back. In this calendar year, the only successful championship defence Mister Pierce has had was against Dave Rydell, a man who was so past his prime as to be akin to a dog without working legs who needed to be put to sleep.
The shame of his “success” was mirrored just last week when took away the Chaos title from Necron. I was the first person to take Necron, that unstoppable beast who, against all logic, was able to storm past arena security to attempt murder on me on several occasions, and pin his shoulders to the mat in a resounding defeat. The Harvester had to regroup and listen to God, had to focus on what He wanted, that of forcing me to rest, and gave everything he had to be my Daniel, to lay his hands upon a sheep and force it to rest. Necron’s best was at WrestleStock, and the Necron Pierce fought was tired and winded. Much akin to how Pierce’s only defence of the Cross Hemisphere championship came at a man who resembled nothing like his former self, his victory over the Chaos champion was against a weakened and unfocused opponent. Once again, Pierce’s greatest victory in recent memory is in a scenario which his peers merely roll their eyes and give a polite applause.
But Pierce’s existence pales in comparison to that of the Vaughn girl. Angie is the prime example of a boat lost at sea, nothing but blue for the eyes to find, and realizing that her ship has lost its rudder. No direction. No momentum. Dead in the water. As she has been sine walking through the doors of UGWC. Never thinking about the future, never thinking about what is next, she has allowed herself, possibly even prefering, to be pushed and pulled by the tide, but the nature of the water. And because of that lack of focus, because of that determination to NOT listen to the will of God, she has found herself, all these months later, in no better position than she started.
Yes, she found herself in the finals of the Trios tournament, but she also found herself defeated by the Court of Owls. Yes, she found herself as Co Operation champion with Miss Cotton, but she was unable to secure even one single title defense. Yes, she defeated Necron at WrestleStock and found her way into the finals of the Open, but she was not even factored into the end of the match. And then, like so many Blackwells, left off the card the following week. Forgotten. Listless.
On Monday, she will have to deal with the reality that she is in a unarguably random match. I and Pierce make sense, as I am the Champion of Chaos and he presently holds my title, but her inclusion likely has more to do with the nonsensical whims of the Creative Director’s hat than any actual faith that she could do well in this situation. Much like how she herself is without direction, not even the Consortium’s current Director knows what to do with her. On that same show, she will witness Miss Cotton be in a match which the new Ice Queen, of whatever generic nickname Miss Moore is using, had to fight for. That same show’s feature bout is her other two friends challenging for the Co Op championships, highlighting further her own inadequacies within this company. Truly, the reality that my dear daughter-in-law would choose the cripple as a partner rather than Miss Vaughn shows you just how far her star has fallen.
All of this being said, these two individuals have the opportunity to change their fortunes. By focusing both on what is NOW, which is them being crushed by me on Monday, and the FUTURE, which is what God wishes of them, they have the chance to find the Path again. This Monday, they face me, the Queen of Red, who has more successful championship defences in this calendar year than they do combined. Twice as many, in fact. This Monday, they will be able to watch the spectacle of my arrival and take in the colorguard and soldiers of Lacklanland. They will be able to stand in awe of our pageantry and listen to that greatest national anthem. And then they will be able to fight the prime example of what God wishes all of wrestling to be:
Me.
The Queen of Red.
Long live the Queen.
The Queen of Red walked slowly across the length of the classroom. Head held high, hands clasped behind her back, she stood tall in her gown of red and gold velvets, the crown wrapped into her bright white hair no doubt shining for all to see. Her dark green eyes took in the rows of neatly lined desks, each holding a student in place, while their teacher, a smart-looking woman in her later years, pointed out dates written onto a blackboard with a baton.
“And starting in 2010…”
She allowed herself a smile as the teacher transitioned her lecture to the series of political moves that allowed the Path of Light Church compound to gain a shocking amount of social liberties. The chalkboard already had many of the important dates for the compound, including the dates of when her late husband had started purchases up land from other local landowners; the official “founding” when followers were allowed to set up tents in 2007; when building permits cleared for permanent houses to start being built the following year; when the Conservative Sweep in 2010 saw the election of Paul LePage to the governorship of Maine, the first Republican in many years.
“...while rumors of Lord Lacklan’s involvement swirled around, nothing was ever proven. In fact…”
Her smile grew broader. There may not have ever been anything proven, but those within the inner circle of the compound knew very well that her husband’s money had LePage elected. Even with the strong anti-Democrat sentiment going into the mid-term elections, it was still a shocking reality for Mainites to see who their new governor was on Wednesday morning. But nowhere near as shocking as the state legislature finding out about the governor's first order of business when he was sworn in:
The annexation of the Path of the Light Church religious compound.
“...founded in 2012, Lacklanland High School…”
Six years after the series of political moves that saw many odd liberties put in place for the compound, including becoming its own county, having different taxation laws, a wall built and border patrol in place, there was a “Lacklanland” everything. The Lacklanland Education System. The Lacklanland Butcher’s Association. The Lacklanland Blueberry Production Company. The Lacklanland Realtors Association. Her own step-daughter, that villainous brat, had been the head of the Lacklanland Tourism Board when she was 16, engaging many people in a social media blitz to hype the advantages of living in the Compound.
A small beep from her phone shook her from her thoughts. Sneaking a peak, her smile grew broader as she read the single line.
She is here.
Putting away her phone, she cleared her throat and then all eyes were on hers. Many sets of bright eyes stared up at her and she could not help but feel warm inside.
“Dear children. I have arranged a special treat for today. No more school work! No more boring old history lessons! Instead…”
The excitement grew in the eyes of the children as she paused.
“...I have arranged for a special youth pastor leader for this weekend…”
Excitment cooled, but she knew what was about happen.
“...dear children...I give you...Angie Vaughn!”
The room was silent as the doors to the school opened, but then gasps of shock filled the room as a tall and impossibly bright figure entered the room. The Queen of Red’s heart nearly stopped as she took in one of her professional rivals, as, wearing a bright white dress and her blonde hair tied back with a black bow, she looked so much like her half-sister in this moment that she was sure she had been double-crossed. But once inside, the girl’s height, a gift from both her mother and her father, her REAL father, gave away that she was no demon child, as did the skin which was beginning to find a tan in Texas.
“Hi guys!”
The children BURST into laughter and applause. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor in a rush filled the room as the children leapt at Angie, their bodies becoming a laughing pile of sheer happiness. Before long, Angie had them arranged in two lines and marching out the door after her, a litter of kittens following their mother.
The Queen of Red gazed out the window as Angie led them away and a vicious smile slit her lips.
“Le piège est défini.”
The Queen’s native language added an air of mystery as she grinned at Angie and the Lacklanlander children.
The trap is set.
~~fin~~
x2