Thursday, March 28, 2024
EditorialWWE Purgatory Diary ft. Curtis Axel and Bray Wyatt

WWE Purgatory Diary ft. Curtis Axel and Bray Wyatt

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Word Wrestling Entertainment has proven itself to be the wrestling empire of the world. Yet this empire has somehow managed to have a state of purgatory for its subsidiaries. A state where characters stagnate, direction is absent, and interest is void. Which members of this empire has experienced purgatory the most? Read the diaries of Curtis Axel and Bray Wyatt, two wrestlers poorly repackaged and now in purgatory, and find out.

Curtis Axel:

It has now been approximately 400 days since my inception. Or, at least, my repackaging. When I first came to WWE, I was a part of history. Man, do I look back and remember the days. Heh, sweet reminiscing does the body good. When Nexus debuted, and I with them, in WWE by interfering in a John Cena/CM Punk matchup, we caused hell. Wrecked havoc. Kicked ass. And more importantly, made a name for ourselves. I was given the alias, Michael Mcguil-something, that last part still gets to me. We would appear at PPV’s, interfering in WWE Title matches, even interfering in a match with the Undertaker. But the Nexus died a slow, painful death. Not a quick one where we all just disappear. No, this was one of the slow, month-by-month anguish that we suffered. Low profile match at WrestleMania 27, disbanded into The New Nexus and The Corre, and soon, I was gone. Wandering no where. People could care less about my absence, seeing as how John Cena, CM Punk, Randy Orton and Daniel Bryan took up much of their time. But as fate would see fit, I was given a chance. I was paired, with Paul E. Dangerously. The mastermind of ECW. A man who can cut a great promo with little effort. An advocate of a beast. I felt so fresh coming back last year. Coming back with a modern rendition of my father’s music, the bright blue lights, and the spotlight on me. 

I vigorously chanted “I”M BACK” for those who didn’t recognize me at first. Perhaps it was the beard, I don’t know. Nothing could make me happier. Who could ruin such a monumental moment? Surely not a guy like Triple H, right? Oh, he so totally would. Here is a 14 time World Champion. Main evented multiple Wrestlemanias. Has the distinct honor of facing the Undertaker not once, not twice but THRICE at WrestleMania, and lost all three! One of the most iconic figures in WWE history. But I couldn’t care if it was him or Santino Marella, no one was going to interrupt me. I found this inner reserve of fortitude I never knew I had, and it was all taken away as Triple H pimp-slapped me in the face. Right in front of my new advocate, and thousands of Triple H marks. We engaged in a series of fisticuffs for the next couple of weeks in matches, where I actually have a registered forefit and DQ victory over him. Sure, this was all apart of a storyline featuring him and his father, but, hey, a win’s a win! I mean, I never expected to have Triple H throw in the towel for a guy like me. After all, I wouldn’t set expectations that are unrealistic. Hell, I even got a count out victory over the WWE Champion, John Cena. Yea, Ryback distracted him, but who cares?

I have the best manager a modern wrestler can ask for, catchy music (though oft remixed), a decent moveset and all the momentum in the world! Man, I still remember the Payback PPV last year. Defeating an obnoxious, cilche wrestler like the Miz and my former captain of Nexus, Wade Barrett to win the Intercontinental Championship. The Chicago crowd was actually giving me a reaction, and as I looked at my prize, I couldn’t help but look up to the beyond with the memories of my father, Mr. Perfect, in my view. I was the king of the world. Victories over the likes of Chris Jericho was under my belt, and I received lots of heel heat by costing Daniel Bryan a chance at being called Mr. Money In The Bank for a second time. 

My manager continued this trend by attacking his former client, CM Punk, at the same PPV. But then, I felt a huge pain in my chest. Something was wrong. I’m in my first major singles feud. Well, the singles feud was techinically was Heyman/Punk and he did most of the talking. I just stood there because I needed to. But Punk was wrestling me. Very soon, I saw that I was no match for the Best In The World. I began losing to him, so much so that it soon became jobbing. Even when we jumped him with Ryback, Punk still would gain the upper hand. My IC Title lost its luster as the months grew by. Kofi Kingston and R-Truth were far from formidable adversaries, but I needed every win I could get to stay relevant. Soon, people would just stop cheering because all of a sudden, I had become a stranger. It’s as if I never came back. Soon, Big E would beat me for my title, and all of a sudden, I find myself tagging with a man who also feuded with Punk, and subsequently lost, and also predominant backstage bully, Ryback. We tagged, and we lost. We tagged some more, lost some more. We had some title shots against The Rhodes Brothers and The Usos, but no go. Nothing availed here. And I’ve been doing this since last year Novemeber. Just a tag team. I am no longer relevant. Hell, do people even know I exist? I went from facing the likes of John Cena, Triple H and CM Punk to being a jobber, to being in a tag team, to getting non televised entrances, to just trying to stay relevant. Staying relevant….in wrestling purgatory. How the hell did that happen? Day 463, we lose a handicap match to Roman Reigns by a disqualification. Send food. This could get uglier.


Bray Wyatt:

Like my former comrade, Mr. Axel, I too was a member of one of the best concoctions in WWE history. I was given a name that gave a stereotypical impression that I wasn’t on the skinny end of the spectrum, Husky Harris. I was just playing myself in WWE ’12, and needless to say, especially my face, I have changed much. Before, I was nobody. Just another random name amongst eight. Soon, I joined CM Punk to the New Nexus, but what good would that do for me on a personal level? I soon left after my stint with the Nexus was over and I decided to go back to the root of a preponderance of WWE wrestlers NXT. 

Husky Harris, however, needed to go. I needed a name that is more….sadistic. Something that’s unique, not common, and something that know would differentiate me from the rest of the locker room. Bray Wyatt. Oh yes. BRAY FREAKIN WYATT. How ideal. What would be my gimmick? What character should I play that would make the crowd fall in the palm of my hand? An evil mercenary? Lesnar had that. Or how about a psychopath? Well, I suppose R-truth fits the bill. I have it. I need to lead a cult. I need an army. And the way to get an army, is to give them a message they can believe in. And by giving them a message to believe, I have to be the messenger. 

I know. I’ll go out in the middle of nowhere. An undisclosed, confidential, grassy area. I’ll grab two associates, both tall, and give them a southern, redneck look just to shake it up a bit. One looks like he’s been out in the sun all day working at the farm with all that sweat on his shirt, and the other. Heh, well let’s just say to challenge him to a drinking contest is asking for a death wish. A series of vignettes will play in my name. Brief, subtle messages. Random messages that will soon turn into proverbs of hope. People don’t know me, or who I represent. But they somehow remembered my name. Was the Nexus that popular? Did the overweight orientation give it away? In NXT, I would soon gather slow reactions mounting. Coming to the point where I even had a match with Chris Jericho. 

I lost, but learning to a master of the art would do me wonders. And it’s that same man I find myself facing tomorrow at Summerslam. I needed to make an impact if I’m going to debut on RAW. Show that i mean business. How about a monster? A big, red monster. Kane. Yes, perfect! The lights go out, I say a few things about war, and then say simply with a whisper, “I’m here.” I could have said “Hereee’s BRAY!”, but that would be far too moronic. I come with no lights other than my lamp, with my two associates at my side. I walk gingerly with a wicked grin towards the stage. I find a seat conveniently placed in the middle of the isle for me. I blow out my electric light, and, with my Instant Transmission lessons from Goku, my associates ambush Kane in the ring, and I finish the job. Somehow the crowd knew my name as they were chanting “Husky Harris!”, so I can no longer hide my true identity. AND I THOUGHT THE HAT WOULD HIDE THAT. I am nothing more than another repackaged member of Nexus. 

I ignore that realization because I have a mission to become relevant. I didn’t exactly have a great debut match with Kane, due to the amount of interference, I looked extremely fragile and vulnerable. Having throwaway feuds with the likes of Kofi Kingston wouldn’t get people invested. I needed bigger fish to fry. Why not the wrestler getting the loudest reactions today, Daniel Bryan, accompanied with another popular guy in CM Punk? Never mind me, by advocates can take care of them. Harper and Rowan can absolutely dominate the weaklings and small men of Bryan and Punk. That’s when I looked in the mirror, and gave myself a hard slap to the face for being so stupid. When WWE was going through that phase in late 2013 in 12 man tag main events, I found myself losing. I wasn’t in the action. I still needed that one major push. And it came at the Royal Rumble earlier this year. A singles match with Daniel Bryan, a man who bombastically defied me inside of a steel cage, was going away back to the good side. He lied to me, and for that, I must defend myself against him. But with Harper and Rowan at ringside, the assumption is that I would need their help to win. Not true. I sent them away, and in a fantastic match, I defeated Bryan clean. One. Two. Three.

Being a heel and defeating a face clean would surely increase my credibility. But we’re a team. It’s not just me. We are a family. And we needed to show The Shield we were the top faction in WWE so we challenged them at Elimination Chamber, and we won in a war, with me getting a pin on the golden boy of The Shield, Roman Reigns. Next came The Big Dance. But what would be my first match at Mania? Later at the Royal Rumble, not only did I defeat Daniel Bryan, but I cost John Cena the WWE Title. What a way to make an impact, yes? I was going to ruin his legacy. He’s a fraud. His followers have been brainwashed through biased propaganda. Some say feuding with Cena is career suicide. I say it will save my career. 

I lost at Mania. My quest to end John’s legacy failed. But I got a second crack at him at Extreme Rules in a steel cage. And I won. Heh, I did need Rowan and Harper to get in the cage with me, and I needed to have a kid distract Cena as well, but I still won dammit! Fine, I will beat Cena in a match that will truly show who’s the better man. A Last Man Standing Match. There will be no excuses in that match. But I failed the test as well. Without Cena, my character started to drift a bit. Before, I had arenas being lighted up with cell phone screens. People were singing my rendition of The Whole World In His Hands. 

My psychotic nature was becoming contagious with the crowd. I even got my first WWE World Heavyweight title chance at Money In The Bank. Talk about starting from the bottom. I then find myself feuding with the returning Chris Jericho, a man who has claimed to be a Savior for a long time If anyone is saving any crowd its me. But Chris beat me as well. But here is what put the proverbial steak in my chest. I heard “boring” chants during one of my famous, dimly lighted, basement promos. They were getting dull. Saying random things together in a whispering voice and thinking it will make any sense was starting to get boring. Not even Jericho could make this interesting. I have already feuded with the best. 

Who will be left when Jericho leaves? Orton? He’s a heel. Roman Reigns? Possibly, but the match quality would be placed into question. Ambrose? Perhaps, but he’ll be in a movie soon. Why didn’t I start slower? Why I was I pushed to the top of the mountain top so early, just to slide back down and restart the obligatory journey back up? Why do I wear a hat when I come to the ring? Why do I wear a Hawaiian-like sweater? Why? Why? Whu? I ask all these questions, and then I realize, its because being in wrestling purgatory makes the past impact my present. My relevance, at least a huge chunk of it has dwindled to zip. I never even held a title yet. Just what am I doing? Maybe I should round up Bad News Barrett, Slater, Axel and Gabriel and reform The Nexus. But wait, isn’t John Cena on the roster?

You see, Curtis Axel and Bray Wyatt have proven they can get the job done in the ring, and despite their deficiencies, it is safe to say that they have been handled egregiously. Pushed to face the best far too soon, and now, relevance is hard to come by these days. Am I wrong? Comment below.

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