The darkness is all encompassing. Nary can a sight be seen, nary a voice heard.
It had been this way for years now.
Simply…Dark.
And then…for the first time in what seems like an age…footsteps.
Footsteps coming into the darkness.
We can see a light…the flicker of a flame, in fact.
Shadows are cast onto the cold, moisture slickened stone walls. We get a glimpse of them – five souls – slowly moving down stone stairs, further and further into the depths.
The sound of their feet hitting the stairs gives off a deep sound. The air, undisturbed for a long time begins to dance and vibrate, alive once more with the currents of activity.
There is dampness to the place, a musty smell bearing the scent of days gone by.
“This place, the dampness my sons – can you feel it? It is everywhere...”
Silence overtakes them all once more as they continue to move in the darkness.
At last they reach the bottom.
“We are here…at last…” An aged voice says, the relief evident in his tone.
“Do you…do you think HE is still here?” Voice #2 says.
“I wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t”, Voice #3 says calmly.
“He’s here. Don’t you feel it in the air?” Voice #4 says. He has the tone of someone who almost doesn’t believe it himself what is happening here.
“Cut the chatter”, the elderly man says and the rest fall into silence. “We don’t want him startled. The master thinks us all deceased. In his weakened state, he may not have sensed our arrival. My sons, we must restore the power…once that is done, we can check on HIS systems…make sure HE is ready…then we can call the lost one’s home…”
“Wow”, Voice # 5 – Dr. Liflander – said, “it’s really real…everything Abishag said…it’s all real”
“Yes it is”, the elderly voice replies. “Now stay still and be silent. The master, no doubt, will want to see you when the time is right…but first we must restore power.”
There is the sound of a metal switch being thrown from close by and soon, the hum of generators in a distant area come to life.
“Yes……” the elderly voice – belonging to Dr. Erland Summeroff – says.
There is a rumble in the walls followed by a high pitched screeching – as if large gears of steel were pushed into motion once more. Long dormant hydraulics were protesting their call to service.
Lights begin to flicker on…
And now we see the five individuals more clearly.
Dr. Liflander was here, seeing all the stories he’d dismissed as utter nonsense a few years ago now come to life. Summeroff was beside him, a smile on his face as the rows of lights burst to life across the ceiling of the underground compound. Abishag stood in the middle in awe. His memories continued to come back to him. The process Dr. Liftlander started a few weeks ago in Toad River continued. Brother Abaddon was here as well. He wore his signature white mask. The mask, as old ICW fans would know, concealed terrible chemical burns from having battery acid poured onto his face. That was a story that was told on a different day. The Last of them – Brother Buzi - was someone who the world hadn’t seen in a long, long time. In fact – the world had thought him dead as did the present company until very recently. His head was something of a mystery – a mask of sorts representing the Lovecraftian great old one – Cthulhu. Or so it was assumed it was a mask. Some were not so sure…
“THERE!” The smiling Summeroff said and pointed across what was a large, cavernous space.
The five of them walked through the area, all of them feeling like they’d finally come home. All except Liflander who was still in awe. The underground compound was enormous – each area a cavernous space. Some areas contained living quarters, others the trades areas where things were built, others contained the aging barrels of the Vinters and Whiskey makers. There was a science lab, a botanist lab, training areas…above ground were fields where crops were grown.
The compound was a self-contained underground city.
“Its incredible Abishag”, Dr. Liflander says, “now I can see why President McStrumps wanted you all shut down. Dr. Cutter, Mr. Bradley…what they would give to see this…”
“They must never set foot in this place”, Dr. Summeroff barks, “This is a sacred place, the home of the great gelatinous master…from which all of this was made possible. Soon, the lost one’s will come home Mr. Liflander. At long last, the order shall rise again. We will hit McStrumps where it hurts…which is naturally in the arena of combat…we will once more rally the people to his glory through victories in the ring. Combat is everything to McStrumps. He and Rupert Mudcock are no doubt in this together. As the years have passed, they have forgotten about us…they thought Abaddon and Buzi dead and the same with myself…you and your associates scrambled the Brains of Abishag…turned him away from the Blob and instead left him drugged and helpless. It’s a good thing for you Liflander that you saw the error of your ways. Perhaps the blobular master will forgive you…”
“I’m sorry, what?” Liflander says, concerned.
“Oh yes…you will be brought before him, on your knees and you will repent for your role in trying to bring down the order…”
“But I…I restored Abishag’s memories…I did as you asked!”
“Silence this abuser!!” Summeroff roars and Buzi karate chops the back of Liflander’s neck, rendering him unconscious. He lifts the unconscious Liflander onto his shoulder and they all begin to walk towards the Blob’s antechamber.
They pass an old wrestling ring on the way which brings a smile to Abishag.
Once upon a time, this was the place where the warrior class of acolytes trained.
Summeroff stops at the door of what is an antechamber – a room apart from the main cavern.
“It looks like the backup systems are still intact…let us hope the power to the tank itself remained uninterrupted”
The figure in the white mask tilts his head slightly.
“Do not lose your faith again now my sons”, Summeroff says, “Abishag – they tried to make you believe none of this was real…in a moment, you will have your faith confirmed. It is all real. It is all glorious. At long last, the will of the Blob will once more reach out into the wrestling rings of the world, for we all know how much the master loves his wrestling and the glory that comes with it. After all the long years, after he has tested us all…HE has called us home…are you ready now? Are you ready to once more commune with the cosmos through his eyes? It’s needed…needed more now than ever. The state of things is dire. Look at the world as this blowhard President McStrumps has turned man against man, father against son, Husband against wife. He has brought out the worst in us…now, we enter the glory of one who can unify us all.”
Abaddon clenches his fist.
“I know it has been many years…I know the suffering you have all endured. The moments of doubt. Even the Blob himself was tested – brought to a disgusting town called Mt. Vernon where a great evil tried to blow him up…tried to murder him…but the blob lived! For he cannot be killed by such crude means. He is here…NOW!” Summeroff says, reaching a fever pitch, “…time has not been kind to us…I myself suffered terribly at the hands of savage brute during a guest appearance in RSW…my head was smashed and I thought the darkness had finally come but there in that void, a great gelatinous arm reached out and laid healing powers on me. I lived when all thought I must die. So now I am here…my sons – YOU are here…but others are still at sea. The lost ones are out there…the scattered…and they too have been summoned. SOON they will return to this place to resume the training. The world has forgotten us…we have all been forgotten…lost to time itself. This is good for then only a few will know what is coming. We will move amongst them – McStrumps, Mudcocks and his minions – we will move as fire moves amongst the driest of timber. It is a desperate situation. I despaired as I looked upon the world and saw all manner of things. Horrors. Insanity taking over turning making common sense the rarest of things. My sons, we are a family! One big happy family bound together through the grace of the gelatinous master – a being more powerful than any false GOD – and the world is rife with false gods from sea to shining sea!”
Summeroff sits down for a moment, catching his breath. It had been a long time since he delivered a sermon and age had taken a toll on his stamina.
“So Now, at last, we get to business. The Blob has targeted a group of idolaters in ULTIMATE ONLINE WRESTLING. THE UOW, it seems, is able to attract all manner of lost, wayward souls. Abusers. Those steeped in the stink of the false gods they worship. Those people so drenched in failure…the Blob cannot save such flotsam. Abishag – YOU must go and bring the word of Blob to these dregs. "The Legend" Dwight Couch and the despicable Baron Vendredi. YES Abishag – filth as far as the eye can see. The Blob wants them eliminated. Go to San Jose and remind the world of the power that resides in this Compound. Remind them that the BLOB LIVES! These agents of Rupert Mudcock must be extinguished! WE are the original WAY…Many factions have come and gone in many different wrestling federations – all pretenders trying to fill the void left when the Brotherhood of Blob returned to the ether…when the world thought we’d been defeated. They were all wrong though…look as we stand here today…are we not blessed that that in his wisdom, our gelatinous master has seen fit to turn the lights on once more…that HE called us back from that ethereal plane to once more bring Glory upon him?”
Summeroff points to the door they stand in front of, “ Do you not believe that HE is behind this very door, right now! He is waiting to bring us into his glorious embrace! I promise you! We shall enter his chamber and receive his word. If it is his will that we should return, then RETURN we shall. Quickly now, without haste – open this door!”
There is a moment of silence as Brother Buzi and Abishag make their way to the door. They each place their palms upon a panel. A blue light passes over and through their hands and the circle around these hands turns from red to green.
“Now you Abaddon…”
Brother Abaddon places his hand on the place reserved for him. The blue light passes…
…and a large lock disengages.
“YESSSSSSSSSS”, Dr. Summeroff hisses as the tumblers move and the door to the antechamber opens.
The four walk inside cautiously and there – on the far side of the room is a great tank of water and in it – suspended as if for all time is the bulk of the Chilean Blob. It is not as large as it once was – it was in a weakened state. It required a sacrifice.
Summeroff’s eyes open as wide as saucers as he begins to weep. He drops to his knees in reverence.
“HE LIVES!” The twisted old man says, his eyes run with tears of joy.
Buzi and Abishag all do the same, their former piety restored.
Buzi – the former Kapow World Champion - the wise one and the voice of reason – his faith is renewed.
Abishag – the former WECW World Champion - the muscle, the enforcer of the order – he too is refreshed, his aging bones now feeling like they did all those years ago.
Only Abaddon – the former ICW World Champion and Emperor of the Squared Circle – he remains standing. He had renounced his faith the loudest in these last years. A part of that scepticism still remained and he was not quick to give his life back over to this. His time in the order was not filled with happiness as it seemed to be for Buzi and Abishag. He had many fallings out with Summeroff…
And still, what had his life been without his ‘family’? He was the subject of ridicule. He was always ‘that guy who lost to PT Merciless’ – as if his own accomplishments over all others were nullified by a loss to that man all those years ago in ICW. A loss that many think was engineered by the paid off soul that ran the federation. Crooked men – all of them. All that was in the past though. The future was before Abaddon now – in the tank.
There really was nothing left for Abaddon in this life but to come full circle.
With that realization, he drops to a knee.
Abishag puts an arm on his brother, “I understand the doubt – I’ve been living a lie for years, I had been brainwashed – corrupted…but now I can SEE!!”
The Blob was an awesome site – floating in his tank –seemingly looking down at his former - and now once again - subjects.
What wisdom would the master impart on his flock? What directives would emanate from that free floating mass?
“Present the gift!” Summeroff cries out.
Buzi, Abaddon and Abishag carry the now awakened and pleading Dr. Liflander up a set of metal stairs that rest against the tank. Abishag presses a button on a control panel and the top of the tank decompresses. The lid opens…
…and they toss Dr. Liflander in.
He falls to the bottom and bangs against the side of the tank but soon gets entangled in the Blob’s biomass and looks to be absorbed. After a few moments, the struggling stops.
Abaddon, Abishag and Buzi all fall to their knees as Dr. Sumeroff raises his hands to the form in the tank and they all rejoice for Blob is good!!!
We back away now, back through the door to the antechamber, back through the cavernous training area and back up the stairs. We move through the great hall of the Brotherhood and to the front doors.
There is a knocking there and we move through the doors now to see Brother Janus – the lost member of the ‘Brotherhood’ Class of acolytes – the former Brotherhood Vinter who finally attained the top honor of the order and was sent to the old GCW – only to watch that organization’s light go out just as he was starting his quest – HE had now arrived to join Buzi, Abaddon and Abishag.
Behind him – many others. The Lost ones.
They were coming home!
They knew in their bones something wonderful was in the making. All manner of acolytes who once lived and trained at this compound were arriving. Carpenters, Masons, Electricians – they all walked side by side with the Philosophers, the Scientists, the medical Acolytes and the Warrior Classes.
They all came here now, summoned from their new lives back to their old – ready to continue the great work begun those years ago in Kapow, ICW and WECW. The trumpet had sounded – the seal had been opened. The Acolytes marched forward – their cells remembering their mission to bring the glory of the Chilean Blob to the world.
They had all arrived and were ready…they now simply had to wait for the word of Blob to come down to them.
There was much to do to get the Compound ready.
