It had been a long time since Madison had summoned a crown prince of Hell.

I mean, the logistics of it alone were a nightmare. The grocery list of items needed to even pull it off was most definitely a PITA:


But assemble them she did. Madison sat in the midst of the aforementioned run down deconsecrated church, now apparently only good for blasphemies as evidenced by the spray painted images of Satan with a massive cock that adorned the walls. Wiping away the dust on a clear part of the wooden floor, she started to draw the pentagram with a piece of white chalk.

It was so much easier when I had people to do this shit for me!

Indeed it had been, but those days were over.

Over?

It hadn’t struck Madison until that very moment, the veracity of that statement. That her days running with the devil had simply ceased to be. The narrative that Madison was changing, “joining the light” to put it in hacky parlance, was a constant source of either busement or anger for her, but her relinquishment of the infernal reins of power would seem to lend some truth to the narrative.

I’m not different! I just have different…priorities! Madison mused aloud to no one but herself. Perhaps thinking that by voicing the justification it would make it more real, more tangible. But something still didn’t feel right. Madison forced the emotions to the side. Let’s just get this shit over with.

Madison finished the pentagram and proceeded to pour the blood over it. Finally, next to it she placed a bucket full of cash money, pre soaked in oil to make it extra flammable. Madison flipped the top on a Zippo lighter and carefully lit the cash aflame. Finally, reaching into the satchel at her side, she pulled out a faceless tome and opened it to a premarked page. Shining her cell phone’s flashlight on it with one hand while grasping the book with the other, with the rising smoke from the burning cash serving as a background, Madison began to recite the esoteric incantations that would return Mammon, the patron devil of greed and avarice, to this world.

At first, nothing happened as Madison recited the incantations. But then, quite suddenly, the flames in the bucket flared dramatically, almost to the ceiling of the church. Madison, startled, stopped reading, but then chastised herself for her skittishness and returned her attention to the book. As she continued, the blood in the pentagram began to smoke and sizzle, and not long after that, a very familiar smell tantalized Madison’s nostrils.

Brimstone.

Her attention turned to the ceiling of the church, where a pitch black disc of nothingness floated in mid air. And then, a figure started to emerge from it, feet first, and floating down to land softly in the midst of the pentagram.

Mammon, it’s been so long! Madison cajoled, tossing the book of incantations haphazardly over her shoulder.

At first Mammon didn’t spare so much as a glance at Madison, seeming more invested in wiping off the traces of void matter that clung to his arms. Then, having done that, he finally granted Madison a dour look.

It has been…long. Mammon mused.

…yeah. Madison replied awkwardly. So anyway…..

What do you want and why in the seven hells should I grant it to you? The devil cut in curtly.

Madison chuckled nervously. Right to the point! That’s what I always respected about you! But before we get into that I…well….I’m sensing a bit of tension.

It was Mammon’s turn to chuckle, and his was without mirth. So you’re sensing some tension are you? Well I suppose that means you’re not as stupid as your reputation would suggest.

My reputation…?! What about my reputation?!

Mammon sighed and rolled his eyes, dropping down into a sagging pew. Don’t be daft Madison. You’re a FLAKE. You’ve always been a FLAKE.

I’m not a flake!

Oh please. You abandoned us. You abandoned the cause of EVIL.

I…I….!

Cease your stammering! Your position is indefensible and you know it! You used to be one of our greatest emissaries here on Earth. Not to mention the XWF. Week after week you broadcast our message into millions of homes. But no longer.

Madison wrung her hands anxiously. Maybe we can just backtrack a bit to what I called you for! You see I’m having some issues with…

…your son?

Madison perked up. Yes!

We’re all well aware of your son and his machinations. But what you have yet to do is explain why we should aid you again. Mammon sat back in the pew, gesticulating scornfully at Madison. You know what you left us with in the XWF, Madison?

I guess I don’t.

The Black Rainbow.

The who’s a whatzit?

The Black Rainbow!

I….I don’t….

The group that beat up Kieran King?

Madison shook her head. Look Mammon, I’m a double champion. I really don’t have time to keep up with every shitty mid card faction that walks through the door. Madison paused. What’s wrong with them?

Mammon threw his hands up in the air. What isn’t! They’re so stupid they broadcast their master plan to brainwash the XWF audience in their promos. And they can’t even win matches! They’re PATHETIC! UTTERLY PATHETIC! And they’re what you left us with!

Okay, okay, okay! So I dipped! I admit that! But just because my….erm…priorities may have shifted a bit doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends!

Prove it. Prove your fealty to the cause. Mammon snapped his fingers and suddenly before him was a mannequin wearing, well….uh oh….


Put that on.

Madison gazed at the uniform. No, more than a uniform. Evil made tangible. Something that once, long ago, she would have slid into with ease. But now, Madison cast it a sidelong timid glance.

Well?

Heh. Well…Madison was treading water.

Put. It. On. Mammon spoke the words with an austere precision.

It’s just that….uhhhh…that’s not quite….my…..uhhhh….style anymore! Yeah! I guess I’m more about spring colors now. You know, lighter hues, pastels and the like. Maybe it’s just the season, but….

SILENCE! Mammon snapped his fingers again and the uniform went up in a brief gout of flame. You waste my time! Mammon rose to his feet.

No! Wait! Don’t go! I…..I….look, I know I’ve changed a bit! But I still need help! My son? He wants to kill me! And there’s something going on with him. Something really sinister!

Well, of course there is.

Madison canted her head. Wait, you know?

There is little that we do not know, Madison. And your son is trafficking with powers that have seen the light go out on countless eons. Older ones of great power. Even greater than the likes of the inferno.

Well shit. Madison’s shoulders slumped. So you won’t help me?

To put it succinctly, fuck no! But, because you WERE a useful adherent for a time, I will offer you one boon. Mammon snapped his fingers once more and a small table with an old black rotary telephone and a phone book appeared. There. You can use that phone book and telephone to try to contact other deities to aid you in your time of need.

So that’s it?!

That’s it. Good luck, Madison. Something tells me you’re going to need it. Suddenly, Mammon burst into a tower of flame and was gone.

Madison walked over to the phone book and the phone in a daze. She picked up the book and started leafing through it, her frustration mounting with each turn of the page.

MOTHERFUCKER!

MULTIPLE HOURS LATER!

Madison Dyson, bleary eyed and agitated, is sitting propped up against the table with the black phone off the line and cradled in her lap. Beside her, is a list of deities, demons, and assorted cosmic beings, each with a slash through their names.

You know, it’s pretty fucked up when even Xenu won’t help you.

Reaching up behind her, she grabs the phone book off the table and dumps it back down next to her. The book is also host to various scribblings and crossed out names. Madison flips to a random page and her eyes settle on a name. She pushes out a sigh.

Well, might as well give it a shot. Not like I got much else to lose. But my life. She grumbles.

Madison stands back up, picking the phone book up with her. Then, slotting her finger into the rotary dial, she dials up a number and places the phone against her ear. Someone answers on the other end almost immediately.

Ahoy, ahoy! Dionysus, God of the Vine here!

Yeah, hi. So this is probably a long shot but my name is Madson Dyson and I was referred to you by Mammon of the Nine Hells. Sort of. My son is dabbling in all sorts of abyssal magicks and he’s trying to kill me and I need some help.

Hmmmm….Dionysus muses on the other end of the line. Seems like quite a pickle. Why don’t you come join me at the bacchanalia and we can discuss this matter over some wine and song!

Madison perks up instantly. Oh for real?! You’re the first one I haven’t gotten a straight up “no” from! Yeah, yeah, sure! But how do I get there?

Don’t worry. I’ll come get you.

Oh, uh, sure. Should I…?

Just relax your body as best you can. This is gonna feel a little weird.

What do you mean “weird”?

Suddenly, a well muscled arm reaches through the receiver of the phone! Madison screams out in surprise as the hand takes hold of her by the front of her shirt and pulls her into the phone….


……and out the other end into, well, what can only be described as one hell of a rager!


Madison runs her hands over her body, making sure everything is accounted for as a robust, muscular looking man in a golden toga with vines and grapes strung through his hair hangs up the phone and sidles up next to Madison. Dionysus claps Madison on the back and states jubilantly, Welcome to the grandest party in all the cosmos!

Madison almost flops ass over tea kettle thanks to the god’s back clap, but she steadies herself and takes in the sight. Before her lays a picturesque field full of semi-nude and nude revelers. Wine is flowing freely throughout the party as a full band plays in the midst of the festivities. And of course there is some free range fucking going on too. Madison smirks at the sight.

Why are my promos so horny lately?

What did you say my dear?

Oh, nothing! Madison turns to Dionysus, who is now doffing a decanter full of wine. So, you said you could help me?

After taking a prodigious gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Dionysus responds. I think I can! But first, I’ll need a little assistance from you.

Madison groused inwardly. There’s always a catch! But she didn’t voice her complaint. Of course! What can I do for you oh mighty one?

Well, you see, I have a bit of an Earthly problem. And coincidentally I think it’s one that you are in a perfect position to solve!

Let me guess, it involves a certain human who shares your name?

Dionysus rolls his eyes and raises the decanter in confirmation. Naturally! Ugh. He shakes his head disdainfully. You know, I didn’t mind the guy at first. I mean, he was practically free advertising. And it’s hard out there for a god these days! There’s a lot of competition! But, Madison he just…he just….

Sucks copious amounts of ass?

YE GODS YES! I mean, I am the patron diety of wine, festivity, and FERTILITY. Emphasis on that last one! And this guy is just such a CUCK. Have you ever watched his promos?

I’m not a masochist.

Right! Well, suffice it to say he cut multiple promos chock full of the most banal melodrama about this chick named Elli. A rather comely girl I’ll admit!

Uh huh. Sounds fucking boring as shit so far.

It is. But that’s not the gravest sin. No! Because it took him FOR-EV-ER to so much as plant a kiss on this girl. And SHE initiated the kiss! The deity pauses, looking disgruntled. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a man traipsing about bearing your name who is such a BITCH?! Why, if it was yours truly doing the courting, I would have been balls deep in Elli’s whisker biscuit day one. Nay! HOUR ONE!

Hmmmm….Madison points at Dionysus. I see what you mean! And I’m assuming you want me to take care of this little representation problem for you at Warfare?

Please do! Just make this spineless little cretin go away.

I think I can help you with that. At that moment, a nearly nude female server holding aloft a gold platter full of goblets of wine saunters past. Madison grabs one of the goblets and takes a sip. Not bad!

Not bad indeed! It’s only the finest in the cosmos! But if you’ll excuse me Madison, my people await.

Yeah, yeah, sure go do your whole bacchanalia thing. I gotta cut a promo on this little turd with this inexplicably placed XWF camera.

Madison’s turns back towards the god, but he’s already butt naked and wading into an adoring throng of his drunken followers. Madison shrugs, takes another sip of the wine, and puts on that “prepare to get verbally castrated” expression. You know the one.

Well Dio, it looks like neither one of us is especially well suited to serving our supernatural being of choice lately. But I assure you, that’s where the similarities end.

You know what sticks in my craw? And management always, ALWAYS does this. Whenever somebody comes back from an injury or hiatus, they always shotgun them right into a title match. It’s an incredibly lazy way of adding some spit shine to somebody’s return. And it happens all the fucking time.

Well Dio, you are just the latest in a long line of such thoughtless booking. And while I’m sure you’re thrilled about this completely unearned largesse, in the end all it’s gotten you is some extra stank on the beating you’re gonna get!

Ohhhh yes. There will be STANK. Plenty of it! Because I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to accept this anymore!

I have busted my ass for the last year and a half reinventing myself. Honing my skills. Completely reevaluating everything about myself. I’ve put in the WORK, Dio! And sure, I guess you could argue that taking the Xtreme championship from The Black Rainbow was like taking candy from a very mentally challenged baby, the fact remains that I am presently the ONLY double champion in the company. I have rebuilt my brand from the ground up. And I’ve established a reputation for dominance at the top of the card that few can match.

And then here comes this bearded dipshit Baby Huey, who one day decided to give a shit again and was instantly rewarded with a shot at what I’ve struggled for for over a year.

FUCK YOU, DIONYSUS.

Fuck you! Sincerely. Whole Heartedly. FUCK YOU. And fuck your tepid, generic rom-com horseshit promos too while we’re at it.

You haven’t earned this. And I couldn’t give two shits if you’ve held this title before. Because wrestling is a business that’s all about “what have you done lately”.  And lately you’ve done nothing but sit at home and settle for sloppy seconds from Elli while the entire XWF world has passed you by. No! Not just passed you by, but REPLACED you, Dio! Because in case you haven’t noticed, the XWF is absolutely FLUSH with competitors now. And many of them comfortably fill that “mid-card steady hand” role that you used to fill in spades. In other words, the XWF doesn’t even NEED you anymore. I have plenty of bodies beneath me on the card such that your presence is utterly superfluous.

And yet here you are.

Heh. Whatever.

Madison pounds the rest of the wine and tosses the goblet aside.

You know how I know you’re weak, Dionysus? It’s because you’ve got the “loser’s lament” down pat.

What’s the “loser’s lament” you may ask?

Well, just ask Jason Cashe. You uttered it in your last promo against him.

Quote:I push people either to their limits...or force them beyond it.

You did win those two matches, Cashe.

But you know as well as I do you had to work for it.

There it is folks! The excuse uttered by failures the world over since the dawn of time. “Yeah, I lost to you, but I made you work for it.”

Madison shoots the camera a disbelieving look.

That statement is not the dubya you think it is, Dionysus. Bitch, all that statement means is that you DID your JOB. Trying hard to win is the bare goddamn minimum of what we, as professional athletes, are supposed to do. So what? Do you want a fucking cookie, Dio? Do you think you’re special for doing precisely what you’re supposed to do? Because I’ve got news for you. There is nothing special about trying hard and FAILING. People do it all the time. And fuck off with this “pushing you past your limits” shit. If you had really pushed Cashe past his limits you would have WON.

Hollow, meaningless words from a hollow, meaningless man.

You won’t catch me saying some weakass shit like that. Because when I lose, I don’t try to pathetically pump up my ego by crowning myself the “world’s greatest second best”. I don’t make justifications or excuses for why I lost. I suck it up, I get better, and I KICK MORE ASS.

You’re WEAK, Dio. WEAK!

Madison tosses her braids back and mugs for the camera.

This match is the initial stages of a journey that is going to take me into the annals of history. This one, right here, is the start of my epic quest towards a 24/7 briefcase. And there is no way in hell my business is going to be waylaid by someone the caliber of Dionysus before it’s even started.

But hey, welcome back to the XWF, Dio. Sorry/not sorry you drew me right out the gate. But I’m sure you’ll have plenty of libations to soothe your shattered ego once this one is said and done. And I can just picture it now. Dio, drunk and bleary eyed looking up from the bottom of the gutter, raising a glass to the air with a tear in his eyes, singing the song of his people….

….well, at least I tried hard.

Yeah. Yeah, you did.

But it’s never enough for people like you, is it?

The voice of Dionysus, or at least, the diefic one, calls out to Madison from off camera.

Madison, my dear. Are you done yet? Come join us! The wine is brilliant and the intercourse is salacious!

Madison sighs good naturedly and starts to tug at the bottom of her top.

Well, if I can’t have Adeyemi at least I can get a good shag out of an actual god.

Madison notices the camera’s all seeing eye is not wavering.

Um, excuse the fuck outta you! A little privacy please?!

And with that, the unseen camera operator acquiesces and the image cuts to an abrupt black.


But it reopens on the interior of a familiar looking hospital. Except something is definitely awry. The haunting chords of “Stranger Than Kindness” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds are playing over the intercom system.



And the corridors are oddly unpopulated. The camera ambles down the hall, before slowly turning a corner and stopping dead at the mouth of what can only be described as a charnel house. In stark contrast to the antiseptic whites of the previous hall, this one is splattered with great waves of blood. Bodies, twisted and dismembered, litter the hall.

Just then, a scream punctuates the scene, and at the end of the hall two women wearing gas masks and leather fetish gear have grabbed hold of a nurse and are dragging her around the corner and into a room.

The image pans in, over the sea of blood and broken bodies, to the room the poor woman was dragged into. And inside it, a whole other level of nightmare unfolds before you.

Samael Dyson is seated, completely nude and sporting a throbbing erection. His body has been painted by the blood in patterns resembling tribal war paint. Still worse is what he’s seated on: a throne composed of corpses, tethered together with whatever they had on hand including belts, soiled bed sheets, and leather straps. Some of the bodies in that unseemly pile have been dead for quite some time, and rotting fluids have pooled around the base of the throne and at Samael’s feet. But he seems to have paid no mind.

The gas mask wearing girls drag the nurse up to Samael and dump her at his feet. Samael stands, causing his tumescence to bob almost comedically. He slaps his hands to his cheeks and calls out in a shrill, feminine voice, “Oh, it’s just like a horror movie!” He hocks a grotesque loogie onto the floor, barely missing the poor nurse. I can’t stand people who say that shit! How empty headed and bereft of imagination do you have to be to only be able to describe wonderment such as this by comparing it to some vacuous buttered popcorn sodden dreck?! He reaches a fetid blood covered hand down and graces the nurses chin. She shudders and closes her eyes, pinching back tears. But I bet you don’t say things like that do you, Gretchen? No, no my dear. You see I’ve always liked you. Samael licks his lips lasciviously. So I’m going to give you a gift. I’m going to let you SEE.

Please, no…. Gretchen croaks.

Ignoring her pleading, Samael threads his disgusting fingers into her hair and forces her to look up at him.

Look at me, Gretchen. Look into my eyes.

I…..I….please just stop….

DO IT OR I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!

Gretchen moans piteously and finally opens her eyes, meeting Samael’s wild and untamed pupils. But there is something else there too. Behind his eyes. Behind him. Behind this tenuous thing we call reality.

Gretchen looks upon the stars in that extant cosmos and sees THEM. The nameless. The forgotten. That which simultaneously can and cannot be. Gretchen’s mind tries to make sense of what she sees, but only gets as far as the unnatural impossible angles that make up the periphery of these old ones.

And in that moment her mind breaks. She screams as her eyes turn to jellies and start to run down her cheeks. And the final thing she hears before the sweet relief of death is Samael Dyson querying his sadistic minions…

So who’s down for Chinese?