Dean Vandal [vs] Chris Crypitc

What was this feeling? Elation? Culmination? Excitement? Was I really thrilled about what I had just done? I mean… I just took a man’s career… all in the name of justice? Was this really what it was all about? I strode fast through the halls of the Underground on this night, wanting nothing more than to get back to my locker room before anyone had the chance to question me. AS I turned the corners at a breakneck pace, the more my thoughts raced, the more my mind was pumping out all the possibilities of what may happen next. It was true, the first punch had been thrown in my quest… but now what? No… there’s no time to think like that, not here, not now. My path was set in stone when HE decided to follow ME. They’ll both get theirs… they will… I promise them that. Finally, like a beacon of light, my locker room. I slid inside and shut the door behind me, locking it tightly. I walked over to my locker and opened the door, looking at my reflection in the mirror at the rear of the locker. I looked flush, irritated, like I hadn’t gotten any sleep in the past few days. It was in that moment that it came over me, like a wave, taking total control.

“Heh… haha… ah-hahaha…HAHAHAAHA!!!”

I couldn’t stop, I kept laughing, even though I was trying to will myself not to. This… emotion, what was it? Was this the same emotion that I had every time he destroyed someone’s life? Is this REALLY what it felt like? For the first time in my life, it all became so clear… as if it were revealed to me in some clear water pool. My legacy had come to the forefront. My work had been done, I had planted my seed, and it took SO long for it surface once and for all. I was the true successor to the crown. There was still one person in my way that laid claim to this legacy, that was an unwelcome PART of this legacy. Chris Cryptic.

“AH-HAHAHAHA… ha… ha”

I stopped immediately. Just the thought of that man being in the same sentence as me was enough to make my blood boil. I could feel it bubbling within me, the rage, the hatred, the mal-intent. In my mind’s eye, I could just ENVISION the things I’d do to him, to Chris. All the pain, the suffering. It all would start tonight, and the first blow wasn’t enough. In order to cement yourself in a true legacy, you have to BECOME the legacy. I knew what I now had to do… and it had been a long time coming. How many times had I talked ill of this man, this Chris Cryptic? How many times had I verbally assaulted him, only now, to have a match against him for the Underground Championship, HANDING him to me on a silver platter. It had to be done… and I HAD to be the one to do it. That sick smiles crept over me once more. Gone were the thoughts of regret… vanished were the second guesses. There was now only my goal. I wanted to feel it again… the joy, the pleasure. THIS was what the legacy was all about… and I wanted more…



The sound is unmistakable… eerie… the one sound no one person who’s in the profession of wrestling would EVER want to hear. Machines… keeping you alive… keeping you awake. They beep away effortlessly as we the interior of a darkened hospital room. It’s quite large, but that’s understandable given who it’s housing. This private room is equipped well will all the amenities a patient would need. A grab bar to get out of bed, a private bathroom, a sink, and even a small kitchenette. All these things, however, are meaningless to the vegetable that lies on the large hospital bed across from them all. Mondo can only stare ahead blankly, gazing into the future created for him by his former student, Dean Vandal. He can only dream about taking that man and removing every ounce of life left from his body. It was all only a dream now… the damage had already been done… Mondo would never wrestle again. Suddenly, something caused him to stir, the voice of a nurse. I stood there as she spoke to me.

“He’s in this room, sir. It was awfully kind of you to come visit him all the way from Chicago.”

“Oh… it’s no problem at all. Could we… could we get a moment alone, though? It’s a… sensitive case.”

“Oh, no problem at all. 5 minutes should do?”

“That would be great…”

Footsteps are heard growing further and further from the room, but Mondo knew what was to come. His eyes were already widened with rage at the sound of that man’s voice. But once I stepped through the curtain and into the room… it ate Mondo alive inside… not being able to jump out of that bed to tackle me to the ground… not being able to speak to the man that destroyed him. With a sinister grin and an icy stare, I crossed the room and stood before the ailing Mondo, a grin plastered on my face. He glared at me with daggers, for that was all he could do.

“Hi there, teach…”

Mondo willed every bone in his body to move… but the drugs were too strong, it was impossible. Slight twitching was all he could manage as he glared into the uncaring visage of his former student, the legacy he never wanted…

“Ah, ah, ah… don’t overdo it now, Mondo… you don’t want to injure yourself further, right? Heh, heh, but then again, what does it matter… it’s all over for you anyways.”

The scowl Mondo wore was masked by the myriad tubes sticking in it, as, in Mondo’s mind’s eye… he was wearing an expression most foul, most unpleased by the presence of this man. I only smiled and folding my arms across my chest, staring down, almost with pity at the shell of my former mentor.

“It really is a shame, isn’t it… the fact that you doubted me… the fact that the world isn’t ready for a lack of the “great” Mondo. But you see, Mondo… you taught me too well, didn’t you? The same tactics you used against all your foes… all the pain and suffering you put them through… you put your family and friends through during your “death,” it’s all come back to bite you in the ass, hasn’t it?”

Mondo can only listen as I begin to doles out the verbal punishment. I cross to the other side of the bed now, taking the time to lean over, getting a few inches from Mondo’s face.

“Sad… that you let it happen to yourself… isn’t it? You didn’t have the power to stop it, did you? Your little stunt rendered you USELESS to EVERYONE when they needed you the most… as a leader. You only did it to yourself, Mondo… and now… you’re paying for it in full. But just think, Mondo… the last remnant of your legacy… the last piece of the puzzle… Dean Vandal…will gladly carry on where you had failed.”

My demeanor changed by just mentioning everything. Cringing… I bear my teet towards the ailing Mondo laying before me. My fists clench on the railing of the bed as well, yet I never lose eye contact with Mondo.

“ …your other, “unofficial” pupil… he will be no better off than yourself. Actually, there’s ample room for the two of you in here. You’ll be able to catch up on the good old days in the federation that MADE the two of you… oh wait. You… you can’t speak, can you? That’s ANOTHER thing you’ll have in common.”

I look Mondo up and down now, my sneer now gone, and in it’s stead, a scowl of anger towards something. Surely, I’ve done enough damage to this man…?

“Looking at you here… you remind me of someone… weak… vulnerable… pathetic…”

I glanced over at the IV tube, it’s carefully timed shots of fluid keeping Mondo alive… coherent. I crossed over to it like a snake, glancing at it, gripping the tube in his hand.

“And just like your other students… your fate is now in my hands… Mondo… and very soon, like you… they will fall… and I want to see them SQUIRM!”

As I uttered that last word, I SQUEEZED the IV tube leading into Mondo, causing him to tense up, and emit a sound similar to a strained, dying man, unable to speak, but wanting to express his massive pain. My eyes grow wide with pleasure as I glare over at him.

“I want to see him SUFFER MONDO!! And suffer he will… all because of you… it’s ALL because of you! And now… the only thing YOU can do is sit here like the vegetable you are… alone… powerless, and pathetic. The only comfort you will receive are visits from your little sister, who you fought SO hard to protect over the years Mondo…”

Mondo tries to fight through the pain… and manages to move his hand now, thrusting up towards me,  trying to grasp at me, to tear me down to his level, but I only squeezed the tube harder, applying more pressure, THRUSTING Mondo back flat on the bed, writhing in pain.

“And now… he’s just as powerless as you… and EVERYONE. I wish you could see it, Mondo… I wish you could see the last part of you fail… but your fate has already been sealed. I hope he gets this note… Mondo…”

I released the tube now, pulling a folded piece of paper from his suit coat pocket and placing on Mondo’s bedside table, in clear bold writing on the front, it’s marked, “TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN.” I glanced back over at Mondo now, a sinister smile plastered on my face.

“ …I just, wanted to thank him… from the bottom of my heart. I would LOVE to stay and chat some more… but our time is just about up. I do hope your condition improves… for what a shame it would be to waste what little life you have left rotting here in this sterile prison? Farewell, Armando…”

I turned and leaved the room, tossing the curtain over my shoulder. Down the hall, I passed the same nurse. She nodded at me as I smiled at her.

“Thanks again for your visit.”

“It was my pleasure…”



“You know I’ve had to spend my career fighting and climbing my way to the top. It was never supposed to be such a struggle but then again I’ve never been one to take the easy way out of anything. I’m a man with a mission. A mission to be the greatest professional wrestler this business has ever seen. I’m not here to kissy kiss with some hooker in the locker room. I’m not here to go on and on about the dramatics in my life. I could share a story with the world that no one would ever imagine. A story about a child that grew up with NOTHING or NO ONE. But rather than bore you on with my Dateline special I’m much more concerned with telling you why I’m the best and why I’m the future of this business more importantly the future of IWF. I will win the IWF Underground Championship make no mistake.”

“There is nothing to fear but fear itself. A wondrous quote, isn’t it? But, it BEGS the question, what of the people who don’t even fear, fear itself? What about all the people in the world who refuse to believe in fate… who want to take their destiny into their own hands and shape the future? What happens to the people like Dean Vandal?”

It’s a cold afternoon in Chicago, the wind is biting… it’s the perfect weather for a man like Dean, cold, unkind, ruthless. He walks along a plowed sidewalk through a now snow covered park in the suburban areas of Chicago. His winter coat protecting him from the wind. He still manages to smile through all of this.

“The one’s brave enough to defy fear and take life by the horns become successful… they become leaders, they become CHAMPIONS! I didn’t get to where I’ve gotten by playing follow the leader with the sniveling, mindless sheep… the sycophants we call the IWF faithful… oh no. I don’t need them, nor do I WANT them in my corner… bogging me down, stealing the thunder that should be MINE! That position is better suited for the Chris Cryptic’ of the world… the followers… the ones who are dragged through their shortcoming by others, lead BLINDLY by the fans that chant his name over and over and OVER again.”

Dean continues to walk along, taking great care, but also sneering into the camera with a vile stare, his breath seen coming out of his mouth as he continues to speak.

“Everything he’s accomplished in his career has either been because of blind luck, or from the help of others. Chris Cryptic, like you idiots in the crowd, and like was never born to become greatness like myself, like Dean Vandal… no, they were meant to pander to the masses, risk their lives out there for that momentary high, only to come back and say they’ve done something meaningful when they’ll never see any of you sots ever again.”

Dean stops walking now, taking the time to stare into the lens with narrowed demonic blue eyes.

“And yet, Chris Cryptic has the GALL to call me out. He wants a shot at me for MY title that I will have earned. He lays claim to something he has not EARNED a shot for. But, most importantly, he thinks that I am a coward… probably thinks that I won’t even put up a fight. There’s one thing you ALL need to understand about Dean Vandal… I back down from no one. As a matter of fact, I encourage people to step up to the plate… I encourage them to challenge me, because in the end, the story will be the same. The fairy Tale ending they all hope for, the Cinderella story they all clamor for will be squashed, utterly defeated by the Era of Dean…”

Vandal continues his walk, placing his gloved hands in his pockets now for added warmth.

“…think back to the other stories. Back in the day, what happened to everyone that has stepped in the ring with me? They failed to defeat me, and I walked out victorious. Think back to Mexico. When the lights were on bright, everyone failed to take me down. Even here in IWF. The brightest of stars have been fizzled out due to “The Antithesis,” and now, Chris Cryptic wants to come back knocking on the door. I have to ask you, Cryptic, what is WRONG with you?”

Dean sneers into the camera.

“Did I not punish everyone enough already? Was snapping the BROOM in two not enough? Was taking his voice from him not enough? What is it going to take, Chris? Your defeat one on one, where I take it all away permanently? You claim you have my number… you claim victory over me, when in reality, a true victory is not who has another “W” in their column… it’s who does the most damage… physically, and mentally. Face it Cryptic…”

Vandal ceases movement once more, casting his icy blue stare directly at the camera, directly at all the fans that view him even now.

“…when it comes to you and me, sure, you may just have as many wins as I do, but I have caused you more physical and mental stress than even you’d care to think upon once more. That’s why this little dream of yours is flawed… a fairy tail, only suited for the small children in the audience to hear as they’re going to bed at night, tucked into their beds, sheltered from the reality of it all. The reality of it… MY reality… is right here. I am the UNDERGROUND World Champion, the standard bearer in IWF, and you’d be a fool to think I’d relinquish my title to someone like you… someone like Lea, your new best GIRLfriend.”

Dean’s face twists with rage as the mention of his foe’s name once more.

“I do hope he’s watching, Cryptic. I hope he’s there in the back, witnessing the destruction of yet another person he cares about, he looks at as a peer. I’ve already taken his career… his false “legacy,” and I’ve even now taken the one man he respected more than anyone else in this world…Armando. Do yourself a favor, Cryptic… don’t become another statistic. It’s not too late… I’ll let you walk out of this here and now, dignity in tact. Why even waste any more words, when… in the end, they’re meaningless anyways? Why even bother to take on a man so driven, so possessed to prove his point, that he’d even sacrifice his own grandmother if need be? I… Chris Cryptic… am THAT man!! You want to run with your new friend, then fine… I’ll take you out just to get to him further… but think of this as a release, Cryptic. No longer will you gather the ire of your brothers… no longer will you have to deal with all the pain… and no longer will you have to worry about what happens next… if your career will continue due to your stupid antics… all for those ungrateful fans…”

“…this, right here… means I’m the best this company has to offer, love me… or hate me. To think that you, Chris Cryptic, of all people, would walk away as World Champion… is laughable. Someone like YOU, representing IWF as it’s CHAMPION!? YOU… an overdone, over hyped piece of GARBAGE!? Don’t make me laugh… Cryptic. Call it cookie cutter… call it typical fare… call it me spouting hot air… make of me what you will… but I… I have learned my lesson long ago. I have not taken you lightly anymore, and look what’s happened. A loss for you in life. A loss for you at Underground. A near-broken ankle… a shattered voice box!”

Vandal’s expression is now wild… vengeful, evil, sadistic, as he glares into the camera, his eyes wide, his teeth bared, his words… now laced with venom and malice.

“COME AT ME, Chris Cryptic!!! I BEG YOU TO STRIKE ME DOWN!!! LET ME HAVE IT, TAKE MY TITLE, DESTROY MY DREAMS, Cryptic!!! DO WHAT YOU SAY FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!!! Direct… heh, heh… direct it all at me… Cryptic… I want you to take this from me…”

Vandal closes his eyes now, shaking with anticipation, with… glee?

“…I beg of you, release the IWF from the Era of Dean… yes… only you can do it now. Save your adoring public from the wrath of a man “unworthy” of holding this title. Strike me down in front of them, pander to them yet again… DO IT Cryptic!!!”

Dean snaps his eyes open now, glaring, wide eyed into the lens before him… emitting an aura most foul, the cameraman has to back up a bit.

“Because I can guarantee you right now… with every ounce of my being… EVERY OUNCE OF ME, I will take you out… once and for all. I will send a message to your pathetic friend, Gordon Fury if he's watching... I will walk out of the UNDERGROUND the exact same way I walked in… the IWF Underground Champion. I will SINGLE-HANDEDLY SQUEEZE the last ounce of LIFE out of your body, Chris Cryptic. You and I… we’re finished after this… so what fitting way to end it than by sending you off in a “Vandal” of glory, hm? Just like everyone before you, it is another broken, painful memory, taken away by the hand of “The Antithesis” Dean Vandal.”

Dean sneers viciously into camera now as he adjusts the World Title on his shoulder.

“To… borrow a phrase of a man far too inferior for this world now… Chris Cryptic… the Games are “OVER,” and the true fight… has just begun. There are no need for heroes in IWF… a point I will prove to you all yet again, once your “savior,” Chris Cryptic, submits to me… once, and for all.”

Dean Vandal then turns around, walking away into the snowy backdrop of this scene as we fade to black.

-Cryptic Thoughts-

You know the funniest thing about stuff that is make believe? The the shittier your life is, the more inclined you are to treat the make believe stuff as real, despite knowing it isn't. And let me tell you, by the time I was 15, I would have rather been a stray dog eating his own shit. So that is to say, my life was pretty shit. At least when I was younger mum had a lot of clients, kept what shit amount of money she was bringing in consistent at least, but she was no spring chicken. As she got older, the amount of clients we had decreased and decreased. It made things quieter, but instead of 2 minute noodles for dinner every night, it became a packet of home brand tim-tams per week. And of course, that didn't exactly make for a swell home environment. We did however, own a single, second hand black and white TV. And by “own” I of course mean “stolen”. It was from this shitty, tiny, black and white TV, that the rest of my life was unintentionally mapped out for me. Its funny how things work out

-Cryptic Chronicles-

So here I am, a 15 year old teenager in a shitty, beaten down trailer, with BARELY a shirt on my back and roof over my head. I'm at the “dinner table”, and my mum brings my “dinner” over and throws it in front of me. 2 half stale home brand Tim-tams. Meal of champions. I take a bite out of one, the familiar taste of stale biscuit and chocolate once again fills my mouth.

Chris Cryptic: Cooking again mum, please don't work so hard.

And of course, mum snaps back at me.

Mum: Save being a smart arse for your invisible friends you ungrateful cunt. If you ain't happy with what you got, then go without.

Chris Cryptic: Whatever mum.

I take another bite from my Tim-tim as mum turns back to me, a look of pure rage in her eyes.

Mum: What did you say to me?

Chris Cryptic: I said whatever-

In a flash she winds up and slaps me straight across the face.

Mum: HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK TO ME! YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOU ARE LUCKY YOU ARE EVEN ALIVE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT RIGHT NOW BEFORE I FUCKING END YOU!

With that I clench my fists and stand up, looking at her eye to eye.

Mum: You gonna hit me Chrissy? You gonna punch you own mother in the face? Go ahead tough guy. Go right a fucking head. You think you have it tough now? I will throw your pathetic arse onto the street before I even hit the ground. So what's its gonna be?

I unclench my fists and and turn away from her, before going an sitting in front of our extremely shit T.V.

Mum: Yeh that's what I fucking thought! You little bitch!