Ashe Corvin [vs.] Eric Steel

Two of IWF's newcomers battle it out for the #1 Contendership for the Uprising Title!

An old dilapidated house, the sun is setting in the distance and a fog is slowly creeping over the ground. In the distance a wolf howls and a murder of crows flies from the nearby trees. The camera man pans around looking through the camera to use its light as the sunlight slowly fades into the unforgiving darkness. Sounds from the creatures of the night fill the air as the door slowly swings open with a screech like that of nails on a chalkboard. The interior of the house looks like it belongs to a house in Beverly Hills. The whole is lit only by candle light. A door stands ajar. Ashe Corvin is sitting in a dark room. He is at a table where a long candle sits. He is sitting in front of an open book. He takes a quill feather pen from an ink well and starts to write.

“I haven't always been as ambitious as I am now. There was a period in my life where all I really wanted to do was play in my death metal band and get laid. I didn't care about my grades and was pretty much bribed into college by my mom. A series of events lead to me becoming who I am now and my running for student body president of Herricks Senior High school, back in the spring of 1998, was one such step in the footsteps of who I am now...”

~~~

It started as a joke, a dare, really from my friend since 2nd grade, Robbie. I had always talked about how it would be funny for me to go up there and just be a dick to the entire school, considering I had spent a great deal of time cultivating my image as the arrogant, devil-worshiping school psychotic, and that, of course, would probably bring with it a great amount of infamy. So, when time came for me to enter, I went down to the office and placed my application form.

As time went on, I didn't do much to promote myself (another thing that has changed about me over the years), although I had thought of putting up some posters where I basically threatened to blow up the school if I lost (boy, wouldn't that go over well, nowadays?) and using the slogan, "A Vote For Me Is a Vote for Life: Yours." I had even thought it would have been kind of funny to create a big scary misfit-packed ticket with my friend Derrick, who everyone was convinced was a member of the same cult I was obviously a part of (and Derrick telling people we were in a cult didn't clear up people's perception any), but he had been kicked out of the school only a month or two before the election, so that was out of the question. My name was very quietly mentioned on a poster that spoke out against a ticket that had formed around one particular candidate, who shall be called A, for all intents and purposes. Another candidate, B, who was upset by the possible strength in numbers strategy approached me and asked if I would be part of an anti-ticket and I said, sure, why not? But actually going and promoting myself was too much effort for something I didn't really take seriously in the first place. If I were to do it now, it would have been more hyped by me than the second coming of Christ, but I can't go back to High School again, can I?

So, anyway, the weeks passed and the big day approached. People asked me what I was going to do, what I was going to say. I would just smile and tell them that they'd see. In truth, I really didn't know. I had a vague skeleton where I insulted the audience and maybe, if I was really getting them pissed off, broke into German and started pounding on the podium (which would've been very funny because the only German I knew at the time was from frank Zappa’s Joe's garage album, so I would have been saying such wonderful phrases as "fuck me, you ugly son of a bitch," "don't get no jizz upon the sofa," "make it go fast, magical pig," and "stick out your hot, curly weenie"). Even on the actual day of the speech, I hadn't written anything. I wasn't particularly shy (as will be explained in another tale eventually), so I knew I’d just have to feed off the crowd's hatred of me.

You see, I was a cruel son of a bitch who would throw loaded school bags at strangers, spank girls in the lunch room, carried a hammer and scissors, and (everyone assumed) worshiped Satan. I had made lives hell for quite a few people and I was expecting people to react negatively to that. I was going to go up there like a conqueror from a foreign land and stamp them all with my brand. I was going to tell them how stupid and unworthy of voting for me they were. I wanted them to boo, throw things, and maybe even run out of the stands and try to tear me limb from limb. I wanted security to have to escort me out of the building for my safety. I wanted to be the object of hatred for hundreds of people and my speech was going to reflect that.

And the day finally came. The assembly started, the candidates for lesser office making there speeches, everyone wearing suits and ties, except for me, with my long hair covering my face, my jeans black and torn, my Morbid Angel "Altars of Madness" t-shirt under my fringed leather jacket, my sneakers ratty. We all picked our turns. I wanted to go last, but another candidate, who also saw himself as a rebel of sorts, managed to make it so he would go after me. I still pity him.

And so, B, who really was a nice person when it came down to it, made her speech, giving the typical school spirit speech about how we were going to make this the best year at Herricks ever. Then, A got up and started some serious, challenging the student body speech, my turn next. I decided that I would play up my anti-hero role by yawning loudly during his speech, slouching, playing with my hair, checking my watch frequently, and tapping my foot rapidly, being as rude as possible, people's attention beginning to turn from the clean cut boy making his speech to the dirt bag ruffian making a spectacle of himself amongst the candidates. And then A ended his speech and my name was called and I sprang up, arrogantly.

I so thought they were going to boo. I so thought that my years of treating these people like shit would finally come back in an energizing ball of hatred...I learned then that I didn't quite know as much about people as I thought I did...

they cheered.

And it wasn't just your regular "yea" cheer. No, this was a roar, a deafening roar. People were standing up and applauding, jocks were pumping their fists, wigger girls were chanting my name with a "go" in front of it like I was an emaciated Ricki Lake. I knew I had to readjust my strategy, as things would just go badly if I went with the original plan. They wanted an anti-hero to save them from the boredom of typical High School insect politics. They wanted a dark messiah to spit in the face of the authority all of them had been oppressed by and conformed to all these years. And so, I spread my arms out like Christ and motioned for the crowd to bring it to me. The cheers got louder and an evil smile crossed my lips as I scanned the crowd. I point to the left side of the crowd and then, like hulk hogan, put my hand to my ear in their direction. They cheered louder. I pointed at the right section and did the same, their cheers even more impressive than the left side. I pointed at the right side and pumped my fist into the air. I snatched the microphone from it's stand and stared at the crowd. I put it up to my lips, their cheers beginning to die down a little.

And I waited...I waited until everyone was absolutely quiet. Then with the crowd in silence, I smirked and let my eyes make contact with each person in the crowd, from left to right to center again before I spat, "You mean that's all?!?" There was a swell of laughter.

"And before I begin, let me just say to my opponent, A, that that speech you made...man, it really touched me. Touched me right here, in the heart, man. It was really...it was really..."

antici

"PITIFUL!"

pation


"Anyway," I said, the crowd roaring their approval of my insult as my opponent rose from his chair to protest, "My name is Ashe Corvin and those of you who don't know me are obviously a bunch of idiots! The reason why I’m running is that, unlike these carbon copy puppets over here, I won't kiss Miss Randall's ass!"

Ah, the crowd was going crazy. My opponents were indignant, the faculty was shocked, and I was filled with adrenaline. and then...

"Your time's up," said a voice from behind me, a student body tool, obviously having been given a signal of some sort by Randall herself.

Normally, telling a candidate that would result in the candidate politely finishing their speech and then leaving the stage humbly. I am sure that is what he thought was going to happen. Well, at least until I snapped around, my face in his, my eyes burning with rage, my free hand balled up into a fist, screaming into his face, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY TIME IS UP?!?"

Oh, if I have ever seen fear in the eye of another human being, it was at that moment. He melted before me, probably struggling to not wet himself at that moment. I could read his face. He thought I was going to hit him. He thought I was going to hit him, the crowd would cheer like bloodthirsty Romans and I would continue ranting like a madman. In honesty, the thought did cross my mind. It would have further cemented my anti-hero role. And I was up there being a god, what did a simple suspension mean at that moment?

But, I thought better of it, snickered in his face and then turned around, his heart, no doubt, starting to beat once again.
"Well, it's obvious the school is afraid of what I’m going to say because they don't want me to win. So, before I leave, I would like to just say something to all of you..."

I eased my posture and put a pleasant expression on my face, changing from my arrogant and loud voice to one that was worthy of any of the puppets running against me. I was speaking like a tool, no, a motherfucking toolbox!

"I would like to say that the student body election is a very important thing. It is the one time when you, the students, get to vote for who you feel will best represent you and your values to the faculty and school board. I would like to say you should vote for whoever you feel is the best qualified for the job."

And then my normal tone began to creep back into my voice, as I finished, "I would like to say that, but I wouldn't be running if I wanted anybody else to win, so VOTE FOR ME YA BASTARDS!"

The roar as I threw the microphone down was deafening, drowning out the unfortunate soul who wanted so badly to make his 'fight the power' speech after me. Outside of killing someone, you couldn't top what I had just done. His voice trailed off as the crowd chanted my name and I pumped my fist in the air encouraging them, drowning out his voice. I don't think I’ve ever felt pity for any other human being before or after him.

And as the assembly ended, the crowd swept towards me, people shaking my hand, telling me how they were going to vote for me, how I had made a statement.

I didn't think of winning before that. But I thought that if I won, I could take the joke to new levels. I’d declare myself emperor, create a secret police, and declare war on Mineola and new Hyde Park Memorial. I’d propose totally insane and irrational things. I wanted to be the first president in the history of Herricks High School who had to be impeached...

~~~

“Of course, Randall feared me, so by the end of the day, my name was removed from the ballot. Apparently, I would've been 'uncooperative towards school policies.' I was never told how many votes I actually did get, and, in all honesty, I believe I won. Why disqualify a candidate who isn't going to win anyway?

“I was forbidden from being nominated as homecoming king when fall came and the school, from then on, instituted a policy where the faculty had to personally approve anyone running for student body president. And looking back, today, at the changes in policy that they instituted, and being who I am now, I realized...

“One man can and did make a difference...”

Ashe stands and starts to pace around the room. He stops next to a bust of Ceaser that is situated in front of the fireplace that is alight with a decent fire. He lets his hand rest on the head of the bust as he stares intently into the fire. Almost lost in his own thoughts Corvin speaks. His voice seems distant, as if his focus is elsewhere.

“Eric Steel. This up coming match we are set to have must really get under your skin. I bet you are sitting there asking yourself why you are fighting someone you have two wins over for a shot at a title. Why on earth would the front office reward someone for having two losses? Simple Eric, They KNOW I am capable of 'pulling the trigger' when the timing is right. I am the veteran going into this match. Remember that, Eric, remember that and you MIGHT not get injured.

“Yes, I, like you are new to IWF, but that doesn't mean I am a rookie to the sport. I have been wrestling for over half your life time son. Do you think you have what it takes? You won a couple of weekly matches. But come New Years Evil, it will be the big leagues boy. Are you ready for that? Can you handle that kind of stress? That kind of pressure? I don't think so, Eric, I don't think you have the fortitude. You may think you know what it's going to be like. But when the reality of it hits you in the face you will flop.”

Ashe blinks a couple of times. Obviously coming back into the here and now. An evil smirk crosses his face as he stands there.

“How long do you think your luck can last, Steel? Honestly I want to know. Because you have been one lucky fucker these last two weeks. That is what has gotten you this contenders match. But your luck will end there, Steel. You luck has officially run the fuck out douche bag. Honestly, it has. You had your autistic fit at the end of our first match and got the lucky win. Oh wait, it isn't right to talk about someone who is 'special,' isn't it? Well sorry to burst your bubble, Steel, but I don't give two fucks about what is right or not. Fuck that shit, your retarded ass has got to be the luckiest 'tard on the planet. Then last week you get knocked the fuck down right when I was about to take both you and Apollos out.

“Which, by the way, is the ONLY reason you got the win. Deal with it bitch, accept it douche-canoe, you got lucky! Plain and simple. You must have sucked god's dick real good to get that kind of luck. Or you could have given Satan a rim job. Either way whatever unholy act you did, it ends at New Years Evil. Your luck will come crashing to a halt in Indianapolis.”

Ashe pounds his palm with a fist. The smirk has since turned to a sneer. That expression, mixed with the flickering firelight, paints an eerie picture. Almost movie villain-esque one would say, with the shadows around his eyes and the light on his cheek bones.

“Steel, you might think you have all the momentum going into this match. But you will once again be wrong. You see, Steel, all great personage through out history have all over come adversity. Take any of them Steel, any fucking one. Take one of my personal favorites; born to humble beginnings, served his country, then was beset with challenges and failures, he was even incarcerated for a few years. Then, after all that, he rose to power. He became the leader of his country. In total control he tried to spread his vision of a perfect world. Hitler was a visionary and spokesman before his time. His efforts and ideas were the perfect foundation for a perfect society. But that world wasn't realized. It's a shame, it really is.

“Then here I am. From humble beginnings, served my 'country,' and then the adversity and challenges arose. Some I have over come, others have over come me. The last year and a half have been like jail to me. I have been on a losing streak that has been too long for my liking. But now, when it counts, when all the chips are on the table, I will win. I was born and bred for this, Steel. This type of thing is what I LIVE for. These moments, these larger than life situations. These are my areas of expertise.”

Ashe starts to pace the room. He comes to a halt in front of a large window. There he stands, silhouetted against the moonlight. His hands clasp behind his back, his head turned and tilted as if looking far out into the clear night sky.

“Steel, bring everything you have got to New Years Evil. Bring it in hopes that you can survive. Bring it in hopes that I won't make you look like a complete fucking tool. But mainly, bring it so you can actually do something worth a damn besides being a complete and utter retard.

“Because when it is all said and done, the King of Darkness shall stand stall. He shall reign supreme. He shall cover the IWF with his presence. And I shall convert IWF into a kingdom of darkness, in my image.

“Say the last word with me, Steel.

“Amen!”