Post by Sadistic on Nov 15, 2014 9:51:16 GMT -5
People always ask me about the Black Hand.
What are your intentions?
Are you some kind of secret society? Like the Priory of Sion?
Are you guys for real?
We have very specific goals, we are a secret society, and I'm afraid we are quite real.
* * *
The Priory of Sion, the Templars, the Illuminati...all fictional works. Oh, they're based in realism, but they themselves are not real. They did not assassinate important world figures. They did not influence international politics. And they also did not manipulate the course of world history. But the Black Hand is real in every way that those imposters are not. Watching from the shadows, the Black Hand has been the invisible puppeteer behind the curtains of some of the biggest events in humanity's brief history.
In general, mankind is capable of being left on autopilot. But every now and then, the course of world events needs to be...adjusted. Contemplate this: How can man be expected to take care of others when he can barely take care of himself? Men are sheep and they need to be led. That's where the Black Hand comes in. Every century, like clockwork, we'll pop up just long enough to get the world back on track and then...POOF! Back to the shadows for another hundred years.
You've never seen us, but we're right in front of your face. We are nowhere and we are everywhere. We are the all-seeing, all-encompassing keepers of humanity. This time, we come not bearing an assassin's bullet, but a message.
* * *
“Psst. Hey...” came a hushed whisper from the dark alley. With daylight dropping earlier, the alley created shadows something fierce under the watchful eye of the setting sun. And somewhere in that thick, black obscurity stirred the truth.
“What?” The young boy with dirt-smudged cheeks was both startled and intrigued. Was the darkness speaking to him? Well, kinda.
“Hey, kiddo,” William greeted with his hands clasped behind his back and his chin jutted invitingly forward, “would you like to hear a secret?”
“Um,” was all the youngster could muster as he searched for his mother amongst the throng of Hangtown folk trying to finish the rest of their produce shopping at the farmer's stall before nightfall.
Looking back at the elder Dillinger...into those welcoming, anti-freeze green eyes...he grew uncomfortably comfortable. Those eyes, snake green as Kaa who'd hypnotized Mowgli, were now serving that very purpose with one of Hangtown's elementary schoolers. There was something positively repulsive about Billy Sadistic, yet at this moment, everything about him invited the boy in. Those warm eyes, that friendly posture...everything that should have raised a rudimentary red flag served only to lure the lad to certain doom. Or certain enlightenment. Darkness and shadow clung to the arm that wrapped warmly around the boy's shoulders as he was welcomed into the unknown.
“Walter,” probed his mother, her arms wrapped around a sack of produce. “Walter, where are you?” Guilt set in as young Walter's mother was left carrying more than just a holdall full of fruits and vegetables.
* * *
People can't help but destroy each other. Hurt each other. Take from one another. Lives lost and never found. Boundary lines between countries shift and sway and some disappear altogether as powerful nations devour the weak. War is inevitable and the winner always rewrites history. Always. Some histories are modified, some are fabricated, and some vanish from the textbooks altogether. Did you know that at any given time in any given country, approximately 62% of what's written in history schoolbooks is complete hogwash? It's true. And when I say that the winner always rewrites history, I mean that we always rewrite history.
We've been around for a long, long time. From the beginning, really. It was evident from the very beginning of modern society that men could not lead. No, not lead. But they could be manipulated. Led to believe that things weren't really as they appeared. Kept occupied with menial jobs and mindless entertainment while the Black Hand operated undetected. From the early city-states in Mesopotamia to the global civilization that we live in today, we've been there guiding it all with a surgical hand. A surgical black hand.
In the beginning, intelligence was the greatest struggle. Getting the working force competent enough to perform their jobs while also functioning as a part of society. Thankfully, humans are an adaptable species. Workers became craftsmen and leaders became politicians. The people became enlightened, but they were getting too smart. They needed to be distracted and kept busy with mindless pursuits. They were most efficient when they were smart enough to do their jobs, but busy enough to not ask questions. And it worked perfectly for many centuries. But times have changed, and again, the Black Hand must intervene on behalf of the human race.
* * *
Upon leaving that dark alley, young Walter was a changed little boy. In fact, he wasn't a boy at all. At the ripe age of eight-years-old, Walter had discovered adulthood. William, for his part, had supplied the boy only with knowledge. And perspective. Stripped away were the fallacies and illusions that plagued most children – and adults. Walter had been truly enlightened. He'd never look at the world through the same set of eyes again.
As soon as his mother spotted him, she heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn't been gone that long, but long enough to alter the course of his life. His wonder and curiosity gone, replaced with a universal knowledge of necessary truths and acts yet to come. To his mother, he was still her Walter, the little third grader with messy brown hair and a Cheshire grin. But behind those big, brown eyes, his mind was ready. A course of events was already in motion and the time would come when the Black Hand would have to fight the good fight. And they would need an army.
William emerged from the alley, but his face was awash with consternation. The Black Hand army had gained a soldier, but they'd need more. Many more. The war was headed for their doorstep, and if William, Phinehas, and Michael had anything to do with it, they'd be ready.
* * *
The last time the Black Hand revealed itself to the world, its Serbian sect had triggered the first World War. If you don't believe me, look it up. You can Google it. In 1914, a Black Hand operative assassinated Sarajevo's Archduke Franz Ferdinand and completely altered the course of history as you know it. World War I would reshape the landscape of the world and would indirectly lead into World War II, all under the watchful eye of the Black Hand. Now, if you actually took the time to look that up, the history books would have shown the Black Hand's inception somewhere during the early 1900s...but we both know that's not true. And soon after the beginning of World War I, the Black Hand was disbanded. But we both know that's not true, either. Remember, the victors rewrite history, and we conveniently rewrote ourselves out of it.
So, why? Why now? Why PCW? It's simple, really.
Once again, the world is in need of guidance and adjustment. But times have changed. Governments have become too powerful and tyrants too wealthy. People are smart, but they're not smart enough. Not smart enough to combat this new wave of global oppression. But they can be. With intelligence and knowledge accessible on every computer and smartphone, the masses just need a simple nudge in the right direction. Otherwise, mankind will tread down a path of despair and trek headlong into a system of slavery and exploitation, readily and willingly. So absorbed you will be in your mindless pursuits that you will gleefully allow your freedoms to be stripped from you until you're left with nothing. Slaves.
We're here to change that. With the invent of social media's rapid transfer of information and the rising popularity of professional wrestling, Pure Class Wrestling specifically, the Black Hand will initiate the upheaval. The people are too preoccupied to look beyond their reality TV shows and sporting events to see the truth. Not yet. But we'll drop the knowledge right on their dinner plates. We will wrench their eyes open and they will have no choice but to understand.
* * *
“Did you know?” Ruth's tone was impatient, bordering on furious.
Sadistic stared out the cold window at the sweeping winds and dying leaves, but he knew he couldn't evade the question. Not this time. The cold silence in the House of Grimm was trying its best to resist the crackling flames in the stone hearth.
“William,” she persisted sternly. “Did you know that Eira was with child?”
Phinehas and Michael both trained their gazes on Billy. Clearly, they were wondering the same.
Sadistic slowly shook his head from side to side, but his green eyes weren't convincing anybody. You can lie to the Devil, but...
“Billy,” Showtime interjected. “Please tell me you didn't know.”
“I didn't know,” Sadistic responded flatly.
Grimm didn't bother speaking up. He didn't have to.
Ruth's heart sank. She could tell from her brother's mannerisms that his admission was anything but truthful. “You knew, didn't you?”
Sadistic's response was filled with venom. “OF COURSE I DID,” he hissed. Three pairs of eyes glared back at him. “It was necessary.”
“Billy...” Michael started.
“It wouldn't have changed anything. It was necessary,” Sadistic reiterated. “I knew it, you knew it, and SHE knew it.”
* * *
Pure Class Wrestling has the ability to reach several million fans. Young, malleable men and women that don't conform to the norm. Young men and women that have the power to mold the world as they see fit. With the Black Hand's guidance, the future is theirs to design. Until man can speak for himself, we will speak for him. We will herd the masses and gather the army. But first, we need exposure. You know who gets the most exposure in a wrestling promotion?
The champions. The champions are afforded the most opportunities to reach the people. And with the gold on the line at Deadly Intentions, the stars have aligned for the Back Hand. Phinehas already holds the International Championship, but it's only a matter of time before the Black Hand monopolizes all of PCW's gold. One way or another, a member of the Black Hand is leaving the rumble with the PCW World Championship. The Black Hand will represent a voice that can't be silenced or censored.
Then, the people will have no choice but to listen.