X-treme Wrestling Federation - Lethal Lottery 4 RP Board

Small Potatoes

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 23:32:33 -0700

Friday, February 31st, 2017
...Pyongyang, North Korea...

We see Dolly Waters standing beneath the Lethal Lottery 4 XTron, unflappable as she stares out into the vastness of the vacant Rungrado 1st of May Stadium- the sun beaming through the open roof in the ceiling like an omnipotent guide, illuminating the ring in the center of stadium where Dolly will do battle with two of the top athletes in the world in just over twenty four hours.

Dolly closes her eyes, imaging herself as her battle ode rocks through the speakers as she makes her entrance to the entrancing tune of nearly two hundred thousand fans screaming at the top of their lungs. She feels the butterflies in her guts, the tense tremble in her fingertips. She tastes the sweat dripping from her forehead, the desultory salt of her watering mouth. She smells the sweet stench of the sticky humidity, and the arm pits of a quarter million sweaty Asians.

Every fleeting moment of her brief life has brought her to this exact point, a culmination of sorts. All of the pain and suffering, all of the questioning of the will of existence, all of the blood, the sweat, the tears, the exhilarating highs, the woeful lows, the friendships, the distrusts; it's all teetering nearly fifty feet away in the center of that ring as she sees herself walking down the runway, a barrage of camera flashes irradiating her frame like the lightning bugs on a warms summer's night in her old Kentucky home.

A gentle breeze sweeps through the open ceiling of the stadium, brushing Dolly's hair back. She remembers back to a time blissfully leaning her head out of the window of her father's rusted '87 Nova. Her eyes closed while the warmth of the sun massaged her face. They were on their way to Muddy's first ever professional wrestling match on Monday Madness, leaving forever behind their old lamentable lives back in Kentucky. Muddy couldn't stop smiling at the joy of his daughter even if his life depended on it- he knew what a screw up he had been, and he wanted nothing more than anything to prove to his daughter that he could be a father worth admiring.

Little did either of them know that at that very moment Dolly's, not her father's, quest for ultimate glory was beginning. From watching her father sign a contract with her eventual manager Paul Heyman, to being left in the care of her future mentor Morbid Angel, to being abandoned after Bad Medicine 2015 in Dallas, to her loss of sensitivity towards human life after killing Sawyier McGahee... every single second from that time of her glowing happiness in the passenger seat of that '87 Nova was leading to this exact moment.

And now here she stood, in the shadows of false idols, megalomaniac manipulators who kill innocents in the name of justifying falsehoods, here she stood ready to spread the truth of REAL power, of REAL grit, of REAL leadership to the world like a wildfire burning down the barren woods of paranoia and fear.

Here she stood...
Here she saw...
Here she heard...
Here she tasted...
Here she felt...

Destiny.

Dolly's eyes dart open and pierce our souls through the camera lens as she's still standing under the XTron.

"Twenty four hours..."

She says softly,

"In twenty four hours it all comes to ahead right here before a sea of stunned faces as Dolly Waters walks out of North Korea the winner of Lethal Lottery Four...

Well... twenty four hours or so.

You've gotta' be exact with this stuff for fear of your words plunging some sensitive minded blow hard into a nap-worthy tard tangent of obscure verbal slurring- and anyone who's been paying attention to Caedus and Trax's child-like correspondence the last two weeks knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Allow me to reiterate the sad happenings, if you will, exactly how Dolly Waters has exposed her opponents one pink tinted promo after the next:

I began this verbal slaying by admitting to you all that I already had this entire thing figured out, and I do, and it really wasn't difficult. I explained to you all that Trax was a man blinded by his former, lackluster glory, and that he was too stuck living in the past to adapt to this new era of the XWF- thus explaining his current string of experiencing one disappointment after the other. Whether it be the Shove-It Rumble in Hell, The Elimination Chamber at Wildcard, his number one contender match with Reno or what's getting ready to happen to him tomorrow night- Trax has been unwilling to maneuver away from the old ideals and leaky lurals that land him on the losing side of each and everyone of his conquests.

Trax typically bores us all to death when he speaks, talking about this and that, about how he did such-and-such on this-or-that date that prepared him for something-or-another that makes him more experienced and less shit than his opponents. For instance, Dolly Waters getting eliminated from the same Shove It Rumble in Hell that he too lost somehow made him better than Dolly Waters. There it was: Dolly prodding Trax into admitting his shortcomings from the past because he's too thickheaded to try plucking relevance for his promos from anywhere but his past that he can't shut up about- a past marred by disappointment. So if Trax's promo work is any indication of how he's planning to work in the ring tomorrow night, he's going to be in for a long evening because Trax isn't going to be able to rely on his old way of doing business to put him over the top against a caliber of opponent such as myself.

I've driven him into contradicting himself over and over again, like how he first began to make excuses as to why he lost to Gabe Reno- I brought up the FACT that either you're good enough in the XWF to win, or you're not. Just because someone cheated to beat you doesn't mean that they didn't ACTUALLY beat you... and then Trax finally admitted it:

"what you said about one having to be talented enough to overcome cheating or interference...you're right, I SHOULD of been able to overcome Gabes cheating, he couldn't beat me fairly but he still beat me that's all that matters."

I know I was right, Trax. I've been right all along. So that right there destroyed you're entire argument that my career was "dismal" and that I was "Worthless" for getting eliminated from a forgettable match by the same person who defeated you- thus costing your opportunity to be where you REALLY wanted to be tomorrow- in the Universal Title match.

Shouldn't the all-knowing, all-remembering, all-past invoking, oober-focused Trax been able to win a match that mattered that much? You admitted it yourself after I brought it up that being in the Universal Title match was your primary goal... so, by default, if you're as focused on this new goal of winning the 24/7 case as hard as you were focused on that last failure against Reno then your effort, your focus, your strategy, your technique is again: "Worthless" and won't have any barring on this match.

Remember you mocking me for actually having a strategy coming in here that I spelled out for you in 'First Take'? You had no strategy. Just the same ol' Trax who got blindsided into calling Scully "shit" just before jumping the gun to admit that Scully was able to do something that Trax couldn't do- defeat Vinnie Lane for the Universal Title. So I guess that makes you more shit than Scully?

Dolly laughs hysterically.

Trax again is unable to adapt when having his ass handed to him and this was the VERY point I had been bringing up since the start. You cut your own dick off to spite your balls. Then once you had finally given up, realizing that Dolly was right, you go on this little bleeding-heart boo-hoo bitch fest about how you've never had anything your whole life- had to earn everything yourself. Trax, that's the story of about 99% percent of the entire American population, and a much smaller percentage of those people ever do become successful.

I'm one of those people, Jim Caedus is one of those people, you're one of those people. YOU BOTH SHOULD BE THANKFUL TO MAKE IT WHERE YOU ARE! But for the life of you, and it isn't just you, Caedus did it too- but y'all can't quit crying about how "easy" this thirteen year old girl has had it, and how difficult life has been. Are you both jealous of me? Jealous of a little girl who grew up in a trailer park?

Trax I didn't need to hear your entire life's story to know that you're a hard worker, you wouldn't be here if you weren't. I don't need you to rummage through the archives of the XWF website to prove to me how you've beaten people, I've seen it first hand. But what I need to see was that you had a willingness to TRY and be something different than the same guy who keeps coming up short since his return from obscurity. You haven't shown it, and I haven't seen any indication of the sort- that's why Trax tomorrow night, no matter how hard you strike, no matter how fast you move- no matter how hard you kick me in the mouth, the result will be the exact same type of result you've been experiencing.

Another L added to the win-loss column of your career.

As for Jim Caedus, I began this entire process of picking apart his brain the exact same way- it too was too easy. I pointed out that Jim was paranoid, delusional... and more insecure than a 'like' fishing selfie smut on Facebook gasping for and craving attention so hard that he overcompensates his already glaring with all that he's capable of- more . He proved his weaknesses to be true even more profoundly than Trax did.

They say that confidence is silent and insecurities are loud- and let's face it folks, Caedus has been the loudest pole-blowing pomp punk pretending-to-be-pertinent because he puffs out his puny little chest while posing as some grand intellectual with some shutter inducing attacks of alliteration as if anyone other than the few lone douchey Dickens fans find it amusing.

Awe, Caedus, you going to cry again and say I'm copying your style? Last time I checked I'm not a thirty-seven year old homeless fuck-up calling a teenager who wrestles unrealistic even though I've claimed to be a pro wrestler since I was a... DUN-DUN-DUN!!!! A Teenager.

Caedus struggles with the concepts of reality- and he proved that right off of the bat by attempting to counter my claims of his delusion, with nothing more than more delusion. It doesn't matter how hard he tries to french-up that horseshit he considers trash talk to try and save face that he's totally ill-equipped to deal with someone like Dolly plucking away at the strings of his mind, because all he's done is lied about most everything that's been blathered from his cock-sucker.

Shall I list off the number of rubbish claims he's made that I've asked him to prove, yet he doesn't?

1. Dolly forced him to kill a cat.
2. Trax, Caedus and Cadryn were "backstage" talking about how unimpressed they were with me revealing as Buronan.
3. Dolly is copying his style.
4. Dolly committed perjury before the U.S. Senate.
5. Dolly was playing politics with Vincent Lane to make this a Triple Threat match.

I'm just going to stop there, because I believe everyone gets the point already. Jim is demented and in need of serious help. But don't worry, help is on the way once I beat his head into the mat so hard that he wakes up hopefully realizing that he needs to portray a less shit of a gimmick than the Contradiction King. I've never really been one to poke jabs at those with serious mental disorders- but Jim- when you're a total who tries being the lovable drifter genius, or Good Will Hunting. or whatever the fuck, then when you come across someone who actually calls you on your bullshit, just take it like a man and quit making excuses.

Quit trying to multiply two by two and climbing over that wall when you speak about people taking cheap shots. It just makes you look like an asshole.

Quit crying about famous people appearing in peoples vignettes while having Commie cunts appear in yours. It just makes you look like a bitch.

Quit claiming to be superb and great while trying to tell everyone that you're the ultimate underdog. It just makes you look like an idiot.

Quit claiming to "own" fire your whole life when fire is exactly what burned your fucking world to the ground. Or do you not really care about your wife and child as much as you claim?

Quit fucking saying that I stole your "drink order" (god that was gay) by saying 'this isn't a game' after you said I'm: "a dame in a dick's game"
It just makes you a fucking lying punk.

A lying asshole bitch-tit idiot who doesn't really care about the shit he claims. That on top of being a paranoid, insecure conspiracy theorist makes up everything we need to know about Jim Caedus.

Jet Fuel doesn't melt steel beams, aye Jimbo?

Dolly Waters has Paul Heyman in her back pocket, aye Jimbo?

You dumb piece of shit- Paul tried everything he could to keep me out of this match, and you know why? It wasn't for my safety- Paul already proved over and over again that he never gave a fuck about me- it was becasue he already knew what the result would be. Heyman knew that I would pick you and Trax apart single handily and walk out of Lethal Lottery with the keys to the Universal Championship... and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

You, like Trax, you both may be stronger than Dolly Waters, you both may hit harder than Dolly Waters, you both may be able to pick Dolly Waters up over your head and toss Dolly Waters out of the ring. But neither of you can out Dolly me, and that's the problem. My skills for critical thinking, my speed, my sheer ability to attack you as a cerebral cunt and a physical phenom is what sets me apart- the fact that especially you, Jim haven't been able to duck my verbal attacks is all the proof I need to know I'm going to go out there and work your sorry ass tomorrow night.

I mean you've been caught up the entire two weeks trying to prove these things:

That Dolly Waters made you kill a cat.
That Dolly Waters is twelve.
That Dolly Waters tried to copy your promo style.

And that's it! No game plan, no nothing. See, and not a single fucking bit of that bullshit has anything to do with this match dude. FUCK! Two of those things would mean that you allowed a twelve year old to trick you into doing something you didn't want to do- BAHAHAHA! And even worse that she's the subject of your pederast golden showers fantasies you you non-talented R. Kelly .

Jim when are you going to wake up smell the roses and realize that I've been occupying room in your mind since the moment you laid eyes on me like your brain were a Holiday Inn Express. I've ordered room service, wiped my ass with sheets and didn't leave a tip for your cleaning lady either. And it didn't cost me a damn dime dude, however it will in the end cost you. Cost you the match at Lethal Lottery.

You wasted all that time trying to figure out how old I was, getting the answer wrong while still asking the wrong questions, bothering too much with the how of 'this little girl slaughtering me' instead of checking the tapes for the why. Why has this little girl hurled grown men from the top of Hell in a Cell? Why has this little girl won four different singles titles in one month? Why has this little girl only been pinned one time in her career?

It's because I'm not an average little girl, and that goes without saying. I'm Dolly Waters, bitch. You think you want a scoop of what the fuck I've got? Please, Jim! You've already proven to not be able to handle even one of my thirty one flavors you sick fuck. How about you save your weak vanilla shit for someone who cares, talking about fucking folk singers or something? DYLAN? Or what is that some new acronym you concocted during your last mescaline high?

Dolly
You're
Like
Always
Neutralizing-me

No shit you fucking beach-bum burn out. How many fucking times are you going to scale that goddamn wall before you realize getting knocked off from it is bad for your health, cunt? Funny because you brought up the definition of insanity before- like the habitual j-walker getting ran down by Dolly's car that she can't even drive yet over and over- expecting something different each time you aimlessly blunder out in traffic with that bullshit.

Fuck you, Jim. Fuck your gay beard, fuck your dead family, fuck your stupid attempts at adding edges between big words like a hardcore Hawking, fuck your desperate little underhanded jabs in the dark, fuck your 'me, myself and Irene' nice then tough guy act, done-to-death bullshit.

Being a crazy fuck isn't going to pay off for you this time buddy. I'm going to hurt you... mark my words. The only April Fools joke tomorrow will be on you clowns and everyone still doubting what I'm about to do.

Because in the end none of this was ever about Trax's Hard Times, Cadryn dreaming about Cream Rising to the top, or Caedus getting Punked by a pipebomb. No, this was always about the little starry eyed gal from the southern slums who never quite fit in with her kind. The little brash babe who always knowed she was destined for so much more than a life of simpleton servitude, following that guiding night star not with her hand held- but on the steady legs of her own determination and will.

From small potatoes to main eventing the most watched sporting spectacle in the entire world. From malnourished dreams to peeling you sorry spuds and chucking what's left of ya' in my oven for the roast.

It's about Dolly Waters... and taking everything they told me I could never have.

The scene fades to black.

"Can't you feel it?"

Dolly's whisper echoes from the darkness...

-end-

Arrival of Royalty - Lethal Lottery #6

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 21:00:23 -0700

The flickering on the screen stabilizes over an image of Danny Imperial, hunched over his iPad, held by Jackson. The squawking of a parrot can be heard faintly over the camera and you can visibly see Danny slowly growing agitated. His huge fists grip the edge of the wooden table, squeezing until his fingertips turn white.

We find ourselves at the Incheon International Airport, Seoul, South Korea. Danny’s Imperial Air, as he jokingly refers to his private jet as required one other stop before this in Hawaii, but Danny had been fast asleep then. Now, that he’s awake, Jackson thought it a good time to show him the second promotional video Scully had released, right after his rap one. This one, with a parrot as it’s main lead, seemed to have quite the effect on Danny.

Danny Imperial
“Who’s this parrot, who trained this bird, where’d it learn how to squuaak like that, I WANT TO KNOW! How dare this green feathered, little beaked, no good psittacine think it can talk about me like that without getting its feathered heiny wooped, ohhh he’s done it now.”

Jackson Turi
“Yes, I thought you might want to see what Scu-“

Danny Imperial
“Forget him! It’s the parrot I want a piece of. Call Heyman, call Vinny. I want a match set up and I want a match set up now! Now now now! That BRITanny can rot in that mental hellhole he’s placed him self in, I want to face The Parrot in the squared circle. I’m going to rip every feather of his little dinosaur body and cook him over a fire! How dare he!

Danny is fuming, he gets to his feet and begins pacing around the VIP Lounge of the airport, fingers interlocked and eyes seemingly scanning the ground. You could almost hear the gears in his head clinking, in their odd, mismatched fashion they must be laid out in. Jackson on the other hand can’t seem to hide his grin, no matter how hard he tries. Danny spots this, jerking his head towards Jackson, stopping it inches away from his face.

Danny Imperial
“Well! What’re you waiting for toothy? Something funny here? Why aren’t you setting up the match like I asked you to, get Vinny on the line now!”

Jackson chuckles as he slides the iPad back into its sleeve and into his laptop bag. He moves off to a couch, settling down and crossing his legs, watching Danny. You get the feeling he’s more than used to Danny’s tantrums, knowing exactly how he should deal with it. Danny sighs exasperatedly as he watches Jackson retreat to the couch, in contrast, he continues his pacing about the room.

Danny Imperial
“I’ve got it. First, I’ll destroy Scully so badly he won’t be able to move his body anymore. He’s irrelevant, just step one really. Unable to move, Scully won’t be able to get him, when he can’t get home, nobody will be there to feed this green monster, and if nobody can feed him, his body will slowly start eating at itself and inadvertently, he’ll die. It’s perfect!”

Jackson Turi
“Well, there’s still Natalie really, she’ll probably feed him, won’t she?”

Danny Imperial
“Drats! You’re right, guess taking out Scully won’t quite seal the coffin on this critter. Hmm…I’ve got it! I’ll go to Pyongyang, find myself a parrot farmer and purchase my own parrot. I’ll carefully pick a rival species, perhaps a female that’ll jingle the loins of our antagonist. I’ll flash him about on social media and bring him to the ring at Lethal Lottery… Yes yes! Our twat of a friend will be unable to resist and follow Scully to the match. There… My new ally and I will crush him! It’s perfect!”

Jackson Turi
“Well, I’ve never quite heard of a parrot farmer, a breeder perhaps. But knowing what I know of North Korea, I don’t think the Grand Toddler will let them pursue such hobbies.”

Danny Imperial
“Phooie! You’re telling me they don’t have parrots in North Korea?”

Jackson Turi
“Well, I think they have a few other pressing issues.”

Danny Imperial
“Hmm… Well good on them! They don’t need the vile creatures spewing profanities anyways! Hmph, serves them parrots right. Be whiny, mean, little beasts and get kicked out of North Korea, hah! Serves them right indeed. But how will I crush this specific failure of evolution?”

Jackson Turi
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure something…”

You turn your camera down as you realise Danny isn’t going to figure it out anytime soon, this wasn’t quite what you thought angry Danny would be focusing his frustration on.

The sound of a crowd cheering opens up the scene. The oval door of the jet is pushed open, streaming bright white light into the cabin. Outside, on either side of a red carpet is a stream of performers. Dressed in traditional North Korean hanboks, they dance, waving about streamers of cloth and oriental fans expertly.

Danny steps out first, grinning at the audience that has amassed, unknowing to him, most of them were probably forced to appear here by their dictator of a host. North Korea had a thing for putting up quite the show for their guests, not a single drop of weakness could be shown to any foreigner. However this practiced, well-choreographed façade they through on was in itself a sign of weakness and inauthenticity.

You swing the camera out from the jet to get a better image of the crowd outside. Almost immediately two armed soldiers appear on either side of the steps leading out from the jet. They signal to you, hold a finger to their ear and mutter something inaudible. They signal you to keep the camera focused on the red carpet and nowhere else, sending another armed soldier to escort you specifically. Sheesh, security was tight. Danny however is oblivious to all this, waving his hand in the air calling out to the beautiful women he’d deem Betsys in the crowd. All frustration regarding the parrot seems to have evaporated; I mean really, how long could the musings of a parrot antagonized the mind of anybody?

Danny turns to face you, flashing you a thumbs up and a wide smile.

Danny Imperial
“You getting this Gilly? You getting this welcome they have planned for me? How wonderful is this! I mean, okay, maybe the Betsys could show off a little more skin, but everyone knows I love em’ regardless! These flowy dresses are actually kind of cute aren’t they?

I have a good feeling about this, my friend, I have a very good feeling! The vibes, the music, just the smell of the air… Something about it just screams victory.”

Jackson Turi
“I think you mean poverty, Sir”

Danny Imperial
“Oh hush, you’re always such a downer when it comes to these things. All I want is to enjoy the crisp air on my skin and the swaying hips of these wonderful women. Won’t you let me appreciate the beauty this world is trying to provide me? Trying to provide us? Why don’t you just ease up, smile, and enjoy the attention?”

You keep a safe distance behind Danny, as instructed by hand signs and awkward mumbling from the guard posted to you. You maintain the camera on him as he walks down the carpet, before turning it off as he reaches its end.

Danny hops from side to side, stretching his tense muscles underneath his cotton shirt. He gives his neck a quick crack before stepping into a curtain as “Hail To The King” starts blaring across the stadium’s speakers. You follow him cautiously, first filming his back and then circling to his front as he makes his entrance into the stadium. You pan through the empty stadium, with its lights on and the ring standing in the center of it all. Crew members can be seen walking up and down the ramp, setting up for the big show. The backs of a couple of wrestlers, though unidentified, can be seen in the ring, testing out the ropes and grabbing a feel for the ring. Danny glances around himself, inhaling deeply and failing to control the smile that creeps onto his face.

Danny Imperial
“Well isn’t this just grand? There isn’t a single fan here and my body feels like a loaded spring. The atmosphere is thick and there isn’t a single cheering supporter. I’ve only ever wrestled in the small leagues so far, indies and backyard wrestling. Nothing on this level, not nearly. It’s going to electric stepping out through those curtains tomorrow. I can almost smell the estrogen pulsing in the air with all them Betsy’s ready to tango with Danny.”

You can’t help but smile, it really was quite a grand stadium, seeing it from the center was even more breathtaking. But though Danny plays off his nerves with his comment about the ladies, you can tell he really is pulsing with anticipation.

Danny Imperial
“I can’t help it really, I think I’m ready. Focus on me now, I got some final words for my dear opponent. Hmmmm. Well Scully. I hope you’re at least on your way to Pyongyang, it’s getting late. Your little parrot friend had me real riled up, that he did, yes, yes. I was this close from storming your house and wringing that parrots neck till it was squawking Bloody Mary. I almost called of this match, that bird had dished out more insult in that short amount of airtime than you had all week, I was livid. But then I stopped, I stopped and I thought to myself, no, this isn’t what I promised

Danny Imperial doesn’t just walk out on his promise of painting a beautiful canvas for the fans, oh no! Danny Imperial would never go back on his word like that, not when art was demanded! How could I?! Not because some whining little bird managed to get the better of my emotions for a minute, no siree!

That snapped me out of it quick, helped me reassess the situation, and I couldn’t help but giggle to my little ol’ self. A parrot. You sat this green birdie down, and explained to it that you were a wrestler. It even sounded like it was impressed. Must’ve felt good hm? Hearing that tone in a human voice, coming from a mouth that wasn’t used to swallowing your bull shit, or lips that weren’t still blubbering for full sentences, yes, I’m sure it sent tingles down your spine. Forget Natalie, forget Aston, Parrot Pete has your heart now, am I right or am I right?

Did little Scullypoo really miss being praised and gawked at that much? Did you really need an animal with a brain the size of a peanut to shoot smoke up your heiny? Tsk tsk, I guess wallowing in defeat can do that to a man. I guess it’s a cause for celebration. After your loss at Lethal Lottery, in this wonderful stadium, Natalie won’t be able to look you in the eye again. Heck, she’d probably have her panties dropped for me like every other Betsy in the crowd. Aston will see his father destroyed and bloody in the middle of the ring, a husk of what he sees his father as, and won’t be able to look at you with those bright, hopeful eyes. It’s all good though, because we’ll have Parrot Pete. Yup, Parrot Pete will still squawk and croak at you, exclaim at how his master is a wrestler!

That’ll be great hm? Someone has to cheer in the corner of a loser to, or else he’ll have nothing to live for. What’d be a real riot, is if even Parrot Pete could process the defeat you’ll exemplify.

So Scully. It doesn’t matter how many dicks you claim I’ve sucked, how many bars you might have rapped or how many parrots you have in your corner. On Saturday night, when that bell rings, it’ll just be me, the King of the Jungle, and you, the has been who’ll never be. It’ll start with a squawk from your parrot, and end with your neck broken, like a mockingbird that don’t sing.

Danny turns away from the camera, glancing at his X-Tron video, breathing in deeply as the camera cuts.

Crowning A New King

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 20:52:38 -0700

Soon the time will come! The fear each of these men Robert will come face to face with and he will make them fear him. Fear its self is an interesting concept. Fear can be shackles, locking you in place and never letting go. Keeping you from the greatness you desire. Robert is this fear! Fear is a knife in your gut slowly cutting you open. Your insides twisted up in knots. Robert looks at fear like an illusion tricking your eyes. Making you think like a child. Checking under their bed for a monster that isn’t there! In this case, the monster is real! Robert is that monster and will eat each man whole. The paralyzing hurt will spread through each one of their bodies like ice! Each man Tidbits, Robbie and LJ will clench their fist, white knuckle tight once they hear the new king’s footsteps approach them. Their feet will tremble. Their legs will twitch, fighting back the impulse to tuck tail and run! Their throats will close off stopping the air flow, from their screaming out in pain! The salty taste of their own blood will fill each of their mouths from the thunderous shots taken! Their brains telling their legs to move but they cannot! As quickly as the match started it started it comes to an end! The end always comes! On this night there will be three different endings all telling their different stories. Each man starting their new chapters in their respected books. Robbie’s ending will tell a story of a man who thought he was a defending champion! His Championship ripped away from him! Too coward to do anything leading up to the match. The story of the broken hearted will unfold before our very eyes. LJ Havok’s ending will be one of too little too late! Failing to come back and do anything of relevance! Too old now! It’s a young’s man game! His story will end in retirement! The third will be Mr. Tidbits. Another Failure another letdown! Then there is Robert Main. A man who will walk out as the new Heart Champion starting his reign of terror.

” The closer we come to The Heart Championship match the cowards now trying to muster up something. If anything at all. They are digging deep looking for a way to dig their selves out of the grave they have already placed both feet into! Now Hours before the show LJ Havok has decided to open his jaws once more! I don’t get why you guys can see the big picture. I am going to be the new king! I will win this match! LJ you were the future around here huh? How did that work out for you? How did you being the future of the XWF work out for you in the end? I didn’t work! You failed. I don’t care what you have done outside of the ring Havok! It has no merit on our match what so ever! Nothing at all. You claim everyone who cares about you welcomed you back with open arms! I haven’t seen it. Backstage everyone seems to try and avoid you and rightfully so! You stink of failure! No one wants to be associated with it! You are like the guy who waited outside for the bank robbers! You didn’t rob the bank but you drove off! Guilty by association! No one wants to be seen with you. There may be a few! Very few. Then suddenly you throw Heyman into the fire you started. Like he is going to rush to your aid and defend you and your foolish claims! Do you think for some reason I am out to attack Paul Heyman? No by any means!

See Havok you are failing to get the big picture! Much like Tidbits, failure seems to have a deep hold on you. Following you very closely! I have nothing against Paul by any means. I actually like the guy and by the way Havok! I’m a Paul Heyman guy myself! I think Mr. Heyman would rather be seen with a winner like myself! Not the loser everyone knows you for! It isn’t that I don’t know who you are or what you have done! It’s more of me not caring! You, Havok, are a waste of my time! If there was no Heyman I would still exist. I’m known all over the world baby! People fill the stands to see guys like me! I would have a job and I would be doing just what I am today! Winning matches and taking championships home! You cut these tiny promos trying to get underneath my skin or make someone someplace see things your way! Death by a thousand cuts right? Your mickey mouse bull shit won’t work on me pal! Now you say you will be on Savage defending my Heart Championship? WRONG on all accounts. See shit stain the only thing you will be doing on Savage is walking down to the ramp with your head held in shame! Wishing you were The Omega! You were never better than me! You never will be better than me. Havok, losers always claim to be winners. But the truth of the matter is. They are still losers!

It pains you to see people like myself in high profile matches? Well, I’m sorry they give the deserving around here title matches! What have you done since you came back? All hype, a lot of talk and that is about as far as it went! You were placed in a championship match when you’re not even in the top five! You got a lucky break. A favor! You know as well as everyone else on this earth that you do not belong in this match what so ever. You compare my career to yours? Please! Your seven flavors of shit compared to me! See I have been here a few months now and we can talk about what I have done in the ring. I have won! I can’t draw? I have beaten the Universal Champion! I have beaten the Television Champion! I have beaten Gabe Reno! What in the hell have you done? Try to win a 24/7 championship in a failed attempt? I am winning against killers. Your shit career means nothing! You have done nothing to raise any eyebrows here. Please, you make yourself look dumber every single time you speak! Why don’t you take a list and shove it up your ass! Then you have the guts to say the Great LJ Havok is going to put me! Me? Out of my misery? You’d be the first! People have claimed to take me out year after year. Each match it’s the same thing! If you can manage to not trip over your own boot laces, by all means, put me down! More freaking power to you! But like all of your statements, it won’t happen. LJ you are outclassed here in every way!

See the problem you have here Havok is one many people seem to have when I’m in their match! They seem to think for whatever reason they actually have a chance against me in the ring! Each time I prove them wrong. I drop people on their necks and it's over! And you are correct when you say that I am underestimating you. I am wholeheartedly! I see nothing! I look at you and see a piss ant! You have been underestimated your whole life for a few reasons! You have done nothing and I mean nothing at all to impress anyone anywhere! You are a joke! Plus look at your small needle dick size! Nothing! You scare no one! It’s laughably you actually think you are as good as you think you are! I’m not trying to hurt your feelings! You don’t want to sign autographs and make fun of me because I do that’s fine! That’s all you have on me? Your time isn’t worth a dime to me. You spout off like you are the greatest thing since sliced bread and your nothing at all! A man too big for his britches! You small stature fuck! Hurt your feelings. No! I’m trying to get you to see how freaking stupid and under accomplished you actually are! If you receive calls from every major promotion then why are you still here? Here you are nothing more than a fish out of the water! You are not here because you love the place! That’s not it at all you are here because you're washed up old ass don’t have another place to go! Someone felt sorry for you and brought you back and all the sudden you think you are Chris Chaos or something? No one is calling you because no one wants a never was goo has been on their roster! You lost in translation Havok! Blinded by that massive ego you carry like a crown on your head! You are like a king but are qw=!dsffGAteffatt88inothing more than a peasant. Fighting for whatever scraps that fall from the big boy's table I sit so comfortably at! You can shoot your mouth all you like up until our match! Go ahead and blow your hot air. No one is listening! I hear you but I cannot make out what you’re saying!

You act like you are an uncrowned king that has yet to be crowned! You claim to not care about what I have to say and then, on the other hand, you come out and try your hardest to attack me and make me feel the way that I have made you feel for weeks now! We all know you care about what I am saying because what I am saying! Is the truth about you? It’s the truth about Tidbits and Robbie! I’m underneath your skin, Havok! You hate me for it! I’ll tell you why you care about what I am saying so much! Your very tongue and cheek. Trying to play off your true feelings! Your massive ego tells you to care about what I am saying! So you come out and try to cut these three-second promos. No one knows what you are saying or what you are even trying to get at! Want a lesson from a real man! A lesson from a real wrestler? First, learn to have more in your promos. They are boring. Oh, there you are drinking a glass of water. There you are talking to the camera man! BORING! All talk no action! Get a scene in the background explain a few things! Make it have a real feel to it! Other than what you wrote down on a piece of toilet paper taking a shit! Secondly, I’ll teach you a thing or two about wrestling come our match at the PPV! I’ll show you what a real champion looks like up close! I’ll show you what it takes to become the next Heart Champion! And Havok If you’re lucky the Champ will sign an autograph for you! Just pay up front! You come at us back stage at some cap concert like we are supposed to be very impressed. We’re not. It’s sad Mt having breakfast in Korea is more entertaining than you being at a concert. It may not be the concert it’s self. It was like it always is. Just you LJ. Nothing to say and when you do speak nothing comes out. See your all wrapped up in thinking about how you are going to be champion and who you are going to defend against. The photo ops. The money. The everything that comes with being a champion of anything. It’s okay to think and want something. Envy keeps me awake every single night of the week. The thing is, you won’t become a champion on this night or any other night that I am involved with. I just better. You do not belong as a champion. You’re a fake a fraud and I will expose everything you claim to be. Taking what’s left of your shot career for my own. No matter the equation. I walk out as the Heart Champion.”

After the match Robert will not be the man with his head hung. He will not have been humiliated. Humiliation is for the other three men who stand before him in this match. If anyone of these men can walk back stage to their locker rooms. They will have to make the embarrassing walk of shame up the ramp and face a sea of eyes casting doubt upon each of them. These three men will feel the heat in their cheeks as they become filled with blood. Turning as red as a fire hydrant. Their failure on full display. They will choke on their words when trying to speak. These men will be sporting a counterfeit smile hoping the moment that they have been bathed in quickly comes to an end! Breathing heavily when asked by the interviewer what happened out there. I able to swallow when answering to their would be fans. The feeling of failure is one that will haunt them forevermore. Horrified by their own performance in the ring. Eventually it will settle in their minds that Robert is just as good as he said he was. He beat then with out breaking a sweat. On this day they will realize that being good wasn’t good enough. Beaten by a far better wrestler. The new Heart Champions reign begins. God bless those who defy the new king.

I'm a Lion with Prey around me

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 19:37:44 -0700

19/03/17

Location: Yanggakdo International Hotel.

In the stopping plunder of the natives of the nation buckle down and thoroughly to for the most part complete their work significantly. The anguish of the day sort of was reflected in the states of mind of the subjects quietly. Dark covered the sky so totally that even at twelve the autos still required certainly full headlights and the road lights shone weakly into the ceaseless dusk. The hopeless air could, for the most part, be really felt from the miles far from the dread of their pioneer taking them out in light of the fact that they sort of can't help contradicting their pioneers run, which is incredibly huge and frightening.

Kate especially is seen leaving the building and she fundamentally advances toward the parking garage of the lodging. She starts to by and large talk herself attempting to understand the range saying in a really real way.

Kate: Why the fuck did they organization particularly pick north Korea, mother loving North Korea. Are the organization being by and large enumerated by Kim Jong Un or something since this once in a while happens? Vincent must have a really awesome in every way that really matters bargain here or he has made a guarantee that he particularly needed to keep. In any case, the thing that truly fucking grinds my apparatus is the reality they took my telephone once I arrived in this god spurned nation, The fuck.

Kate responds to somebody putting a hand on her shoulder, befuddled She tilts her hand sideways to get a look at the individual. Shockingly, she sees that it is Jarae is the individual who got her shoulder. She grins and snickers as she reacts to his activity saying.

Kate: Ohh look has just decided to show up, Is your employer here?

Jarae: No he said that he is coming soon. Right now I expect that he and his fianceé should have just landed and are now getting the luggage from their baggage area.

Kate: So how long are we going to wait for him?

Jarae: I'm predicting maybe 30 minutes to an hour If I am ruffly estimating.

Kate: So what do we do, Since he isn't going to be here for an hour.

Jarae: Well since we have all this free time, I was thinking we might have a little fun with one another in a less public area If you know what I mean.

Kate: Are you suggesting what I think you are thinking, You naughty dog.

Kate giggles in the flirtatious atmosphere that has just been created by the two, They move to a new area, a more private area as they move back into the building as the screen fades to black.

2 Hours Later.

The screen blinks back into a blur, But as the screen begins to focus we are greeted to Shade and Hope waiting in their room and disgusted by the services of they conversate to themselves saying.

Hope: The fucking service here sucks like the cut off balls of Maverick. Room service here is stupidly incompetent and also the room is too goddamn small. Food smells like a dog shit on my plate.

Shade: I know what you mean, This is the worst hostel we have ever had the pleasure of coming across, So baby reminds me next time to just buy a house in this area. I definitely don't want to end up in this predicament again.

Hope: Don't worry I will. But first ''WHERE THE HELL IS JARAE''. I know he was meant to come here to look for the best possible Hotel and escort us but he never showed up and we had to find our way to this Hotel also I still can't believe this place is the best hotel around the stadium.

Shade: Don't worry, He is on his way right now and he is bringing a familiar face with him.

Hope: How do you know.

Shade: You know.

Hope: Oh yeah I do. Anyways when are they here?

Shade: In three, two, one.

Jarae runs into the room bowing towards Hope and Shade who are lying on the bed saying.

Jarae: Sorry Sir it won't happen again, I was a bit occupied. Please don't fire me.

Shade: Don't worry I know what you were doing, All I will say is have all the fun you want, but just don't let it eat into your work time because we don't want to have this situation happen ever again. Also, you better have the martini Hope always have or I will be forced to take something of equal value that is equal to the time that was wasted by you and your fun sexy time.

Jarae stands up and goes out and drags a cart into the room saying.

Jarae: Master you don't have to worry I always have what you need.

Jarae makes the martini and gives it Hope. He continues saying.

Jarae: Master, you, of course, know that there is someone here looking for an audience with you. She wants an interview, you Sir.

Shade: I know and I have been waiting for her to reveal herself. I know you're there Kate, I am waiting for my interview.

Kate walks into the room with her wireless recorder in hand saying.

Kate: Long time no see Shade

Shade: Yeah long time no see, but let's cut the pleasantries you and I know what we're here for and I need to make the interview quick so I can get a summer home close to here, So I don't stay in a pig sty of a hostel. So just fire the questions at me and I will answer them the best I can to your liking If you don't mind.

Kate: Fair enough, first question What are your thought on being added to this championship gauntlet match?

Shade: Well Kate to be honest I don't understand why they are putting me in this Gauntlet match for the Heavymetal championship. The championship doesn't appeal to me and I had already vouched for my spot in a high-profile match, for something more appealing and more to my taste. But of course the company still can't trust me as the face of the company So if they want me to prove it I will prove it one way or another that I am the future of this company. Ah If they want me to fight for the championship well I guess I will have to win it, to use it to raise my stock in the company. Anyways Next question. I'm already bored with this question.

Kate: Okay thanks for the answer, So next question. What is your thought on your opponents individually? It looks like most of the people you are facing are rookies and Random who is just well random.

Shade: Firstly never ever do that around me again even Jarae is cringing from the fucking corner at the end of the room (points at Jarae doing what he had just said). But to answer the first half of your question, Well to be brutally honest I would describe this match as me a lion vs a bunch of different type of prey. That is what answer would have been if you said I should comment as all of them as a whole. But you asked individually so I will grace you with my analysis.

I will first start off with Kieran O'Connor, to be honest, I don't know much about this guy, other than the fucker is British. Honestly, I see him as no threat, I feel I will walk in their and one bow down is what I will need to put him down. 1,2,3 and it over. I'll give him 5 minutes and I will wrestle circles around him literally. So I don't have to worry about him in the long run and one last thing you bore me before I am even faced you. I'm leaving you last because you're going to be the easiest to dispose of first.

Next, is going to be ha Justin Sayn. A funny joke like I haven't heard it a million times already from my brother, But we don't talk about that failed anyways let critic your skill and from what I have read all you have in your arsenal in a generic arsenal in your move set and that you feel very little pain. Well, you are going to a little tougher to take down, But instead trying to knock you out just going to make you pass out. It will make my life easier and One last thing you bore so I'm going to leave you Until I have eliminated the second person. Also, you bore me. too.

Next is Drake. Now someone with a little spice than the last two bland tasting fuckers. Anyways, Drake, you are a unique prey, You and one other are the only two I feel actually can pose a threat to me and he hasn't even had his first match. The advantages he has against me is unpredictability, But like the others, I am going to have to put him down. He's going to be an annoying opponent to put down So I'm thinking maybe 2 to 3 now downs and a scythe's end would put him down. So I'm going to keep it easy and take him out first so my road is quick and painless for the most part. Also look forward to facing you in future encounters if we don't meet here because well its a gauntlet match.

Next is Mezian. The second interesting person entering this match and he is a rookie. He gives a scent of somebody irritating and It going to be a pleasure kicking his ass I'm making sure to target him third or fourth so that I have a fun period in the match where I can get a little bit of fun beaten the crap out of him. I know I might be a bit excessive when he is getting him beaten, but when I am done with him, It will just be a listen to certain someone to show that he is not broken just of his meds. But after that, he doesn't really interest me. So yeah I'll think 2 Bow down will end him so yeah.

And My final opponent is Random, Well For random the only other person in a rematch that had been in XWF as long or a bit shorter than me. So I'm thinking 1 Bow down or Skies End is all I need to put him away I don't see him as a threat, So he is just trash to me and that all, nothing special here at all.

Shade then Finishes ending with.

Shade: Look Kate, I'm going to win that championship on April first. So if I was the XWF I would just the championship to me because Like I said "A Lion against Prey".

Screen fades to black

Moment Of Clarity

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 19:10:43 -0700

MOMENT OF CLARITY

It was the rainy season in North Korea. Chris looked through the now condensation covered window of the transport van at the grey and lifeless city in front of him. He could dimly see his reflection in the mirror. He was on his way to the arena, the moment of truth was upon him.

But as he rode, he began to think. Finally, he could think clearly. This was a moment of clarity of sorts. Hell he had just tried to release a promo in his hotel room, but his timing was a bit off. The escort had come. He wondered if he would have another chance. Gabe was probably going to put up 1 or 2 more sugar rush promos by the time the show started. That is just what he did.

Desperate measures from a desperate and scared man.

His last one, Gold, was decent. He pointed out a few things and his trash talk was more on point than his previous ramblings. He seemed to be settling down. But his vision was still cloudy. He still needed that wakeup call. One Chris could and would provide.

But as he looked out that window at the bleak world surrounding him, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was the moment of clarity that Chris needed to. He needed to solidify himself as champion. He needed to prove that he could in fact rise up to the toughest challenge he has ever faced. He needed to make sure, in his own heart and mind, that he was the best in the world at what he does. He was confident that he could and would do just that. There were hardly any cars on the road. Vehicle ownership among "common people" in North Korea was scarce.

"The arena is just up the road," the guide said in broken English. "Another guard will be there to meet you."

This was crazy. Not only did they treat their people like second class citizens, apparently they treated champions that way too.

American's.

The old van rattled to a stop. Chris could see the massive arena in front of him. The largest in the world. The only stage big enough for a match of this magnitude. The only arena large enough for a moment of clarity this massive.

They were ushered quickly out of the van. These guards had guns. AK 47's. They were loaded with extended magazines. This was crazy.

Thanks Vinnie.

They got into the dilapidated and dirty locker rooms of the worlds largest arena.

Here is where Chris could at least have a mirror. An XWF camera man was there, maybe he could finish his promo now. What he wanted to say in the hotel room. Maybe now he could lay out his final thoughts before hell came full fold.

He rubbed his goatee and put the Universal Title over his shoulder. He was determined to make sure this was not the last time he saw that exact same image as a reflection. This was not like last time. There was no "what if". He WOULD win. He owed it to the XWF. Gabe Reno was the champion nobody wanted.

But did they want him?

He was the lesser of two evils, honestly.

But Chris had what Gabe did not.

Respect.

That entire locker room, like him or not, respected the hell out of him. They felt like he was their savior. They felt like he was the one to lead them to the promise land. And win or lose, they would get a title shot.

Chris was a giving champion, what that so bad? If you want a piece come get a piece. To be the best you have to beat the best.

But Gabe Reno was far from being the best. He was far from being in the middle. Gabe was talented, no lie, but his real future was in Broadway. Entertainment. Not wrestling.

Chris looked in the mirror and smiled. It was a real smile. It felt good to smile. Jenny walked in, she had changed out of her yoga pants to a mini skirt for the event, one with a lot of cleavage.

"Watch out", Chris said, "you are going to give Tidbits a tidbit of a chubby in that skirt."

"Shut up" she said.

Chris looked back into the mirror.

"Are we ready? I don't have all night. I want to get this over with. I am done talking about this motherfucker. Let him do 3 or 4 more promos, I don't care. I have said what I need to say, and this will be the final word from me until we step into that cage. He already has 8 promos, and this will be my 7th. I NEVER do 7. Gabe should feel lucky. At least mine, however, are quality."

A projector screen rolled into the room Gabe's latest promo, GOLD, came up on the screen. Chris watched it intently, dissecting everything and rolling his eyes with frequency. But at one part, he held a hand up. He told them to stop, to rewind. To watch it again, and again, and again. There was one part he knew he needed to address.

The rest of it was just typical Gabe Reno bullshit.

But this part......

His moment of clarity had arrived. Gabe's would arrive shortly.

It's easy. Your mind was where... when this match was announced? On... getting her back. Right? SO MUCH so that you actually gave Slathe's client a SHOT AT THE TITLE! Big surprise there. Just another mistake in a long line of them by a Champion who leverages the belt to make a mockery of XWF. Yeah, you got her back... once I told him when and how I wanted it done. Ask him. Ask Mister Tidbits. They were both in on it.

And here you thought you'd been playing me...

"There isn't much time left. The event of a lifetime is just a short few hours away. This is the moment of truth, the moment of clarity. This is the moment when legends are made. The preparation. Do you remember wayyyyy back, in one of my first promo's? One of the "Art's of War" ...."“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.” You obviously haven't listened to a goddamn thing I've said, have you? It is evident by your "Gold" promo. All you have listened to is your own words. Do you think you have "shocked" me? Do you think you dropped a bombshell on me bigger and more destructive than Hiroshima?

YOU STUPID FUCK.

I knew the entire time you were in on this. I knew the entire time that Father Slathe and Mr. Tibits couldn't operate on such a masterful plan on their own. I knew that had Gabe Reno stench all over it. I KNEW this, which is why I played along. Let me break it down for even a mind as simple as yours.

I gave him a title shot because he is nothing to me. He is another brick in the wall. He is another block in the tumbling Jenga roster that dare approach me. He is the least talented of any of the challengers who have wanted to take this belt. But I decided to give him a shot because I knew it would make your heart sink. What if I told him no? What if I told him "I will let you know after Lottery". That would have shown uncertainty, it would have shown uneasy.....fear...even. It would have shown I have doubts that I am walking out of North Korea still the champion. But I am so confident that you can't beat me, that I gave him the shot. I gave him the shot that you should be giving him. But let me ask you this, Gabe. When you thought out your little plan....was there an End Game? Was there a plan B? Because even if by the grace of heaven and hell you do come out of that cage as champion......Tidbits is still going to want his shot. What, does the contract nullify? Is it thanks for the help now see you later? That is a way to add another enemy to the list very quickly. A demented, strange, and dangerous when cornered enemy. Great job. Then, not only do you have Tidbits and Slathe breathing down your neck, but how about the others who want a shot? Gilmour still wants a shot back, Trax has been whispering about getting in on the Universal Title picture for a while now, and you know Dolly Waters won't stay silent for long. Doc, a man you've never beaten. There is a long list of people who want this. There will be an entire new list of people who don't like you Gabe, and not just because you are a walking turd sack but because you have something they now want. My point exactly.....

You Aren't Ready To Be Champion.

You are so delusional that your little photo you chose......its not even the right belt! If you want to use a photo of you being a champion, that is cool, but at least have you holding something similar! That belt was cute buts its NOT this one.........This one looks like this:

I'll take great care of it for you. By not offering every chump that walks by a shot. By respecting the brand that has been built as XWF more than you ever have. By beating anyone who thinks they can just stroll on by and defeat me. By not allowing my valet and wife to be kidnapped by some weird-o. By giving the kids an example that doesn't flame out every time it is convenient. By being a dynamic... erratic... enigma... it is who I am, and who you could never be. Oh, and by doing what you never could... transcending what it means to wear that belt.

What was the word you used? Cute? Yeah. Cute. Your words, they are so shallow. They mean nothing. They are coming from a position of weakness, not a position of strength. They are coming from a man who is getting increasingly more nervous as the minutes tick closer. From a position of man bragging about an elaborate plan he didn't even have a finish for. These words are coming from a man who is in it for himself. But, you do at least pay SOME attention to detail.

I DO give title shots out to people, don't I?

It shows I am a gracious champion. A fighting champion. A champion that wants the XWF to improve by giving them quality matches on a nightly basis. Who wants to wait 3 weeks for a Pay Per View to see a title match?

That is why you aren't fit to be a champion.

You are right, I do beat everyone who strolls on by and thinks they can beat me. I beat every one of them. And you are on that list. I've taken you down once, and I will take you down again. I have been a great champion and I will continue to be a great champion. I beat those who are below me and right now, Gabe, you are below me.

You will respect the XWF more than I ever have? And just how the fuck do you plan to do that? This company has been exponetially better since I have taken over. I have LEGENDS texting me and calling me every day you know, between the messages from you begging to still be friends after this, telling me they are proud of what I have done here. My words change lives, they reach souls, they cut deep. You do promos about Pandas.

THAT is the difference Gabe.

Your weak attempt at a metaphor is nothing but entertainment. I believe that is something I gave you credit for . You are an entertainer, through and through. But that is all you are. What have your promo been for this match? A sex pun by using a volcano. A bad song that has been covered by anyone who has ever used a guitar, robots, a letter that looked like it was written in crayon, a gold promo featuring the wrong belt and a panda.

.....The mind of a child.

Cute.

But not a champions mind state. An entertainer, that is it. A childish entertainer, appealing to the masses with utter simplicity. Like I have said before, you aren't ready for this level of responsibility. You aren't ready for the challenges just holding this belt brings. You prove that with every syllable you utter. More and more your stupidity and simplicity come screaming outward.

By allowing my, what did you call her, "valet", and "wife" to be kidnapped by a weirdo? I agree. He is a werido. But she is so much more than a valet. And she isn't my wife. BUT, has it ever crossed your mind that this was all part of the plan? A plan so complex and elaborate that even Einstein couldn't figure this shit out? What if I told you that I PLANNED for her to be taken? She runs that risk every time she comes to the ring, it was only a matter of time before it happened. But perhaps by me allowing that to happen, I showed weakness when really I was strong.

I lured YOU in.

I knew exactly what was happening. I was in control the entire time. I knew that Tidbits wanted a shot at this title, he had stated it several times for the build up of our match. I knew that you were lurking somewhere in the shadows, ready to strike. This big plan isn't as complex as you think, and I was two steps ahead. Why do you think I gave him a title shot? As one last FUCK YOU to you Gabe. One last middle finger. Because after I beat you, you will have to sit back and watch be beat him. It will eat you alive as you it there and think that that match should be yours. It will break you down from the inside, and demoralize you worse than anything I can or will do to you inside a cage. Gabe.....I knew all along what the plan was and I played it to perfection.....

......and the Emmy goes to:

CHRIS CHAOS

The revolution has begun. Sometimes, as a leader, you need to stand up to rebellion. You need to put people in their place. You need to show that you can't and won't fold at the slightest bit of resistance.

By giving the kids an example that doesn't flame out every time it is convenient.

When have I ever flamed out? I have been rock solid since AUGUST, Gabe. I have been the man that these people in the back and in the stands look up to. The beacon of hope for a better company. You need talent at the top, and you need a ruthless leader. You don't need someone who gets their kicks out of playing Tonka trucks and covering poop logs in a sandbox. You don't have the mentality to be at the top. I have said it before and I will say it again. Your beating is for THEM. It is not for me. To me, this is just another day at the office. This is as close to being a face turn without actually becoming a face that you will actually see. We are the main event, the last match of the night. We bring the show home. Everyone in the back will be watching this match with baited breath, hoping---some even praying, shout outs to you Muddy---that I beat you to within an inch of your life and shut your mouth for good. I am fighting this match for all of those who haven't been blessed to kick your ass themselves. You may think that this is your little master plan, but all it is is a farce. A fallacy. A dream, to speak. But your dream is about to turn into a nightmare. A violent, vicious nightmare. A nightmare that won't allow you any solace, even when you wake up.

And who called it? 8 promos so far, Gabe, 8. You are a desperate man backed into a corner. But, for every action there is a reaction, no? I don't have time to sit here and comb through every one of your stupid promos. I don't have time to break down the Panda one and counter with an animal more suitable to my traits. It isn't even worth my time. I am not able to walk the streets and meet the people like I did in Norway---the government doesn't allow it. The last thing I need is to end up in a North Korean prison and become a hostage that the government has to come in and get. That is a mistake you you would make. Because you are reckless. You don't think before you act. I had a promo all planned out, too, I was going to call it "Korean Bar-B-Q." But, maybe next time. Now, I have changed gears, I have had an epiphany. I have have a moment of clarity. I said before that you have now caused me to become the most dangerous man on this roster. That is the truth. It is always quiet before the storm hits, Gabe. It is always the calmest. I needed to open my eyes and realize that the fight of my life is only hours away. That the toughest battle against insubordination and insulence is upcoming, and I need to make sure that I am beyond ready.

I am.

I am more ready now than I have EVER been. I am more ready now than I have been more any match in my career. I don't need this the way you need this. I am established. I am the top of the top. This match isn't about proving my legacy, it is about solidifying it. Keeping it up. This is about showing the world that some two bit chump who acts like hes snorted adderall can't just come in and take the most coveted prize in the game. This is a moment of clarity. CAN I lose this match? Sure, I guess anything is possible if I am not careful. WILL I lose this match?

Fuck no.

I will not lose to you Gabe because you don't have the tools needed to beat me. You need more than just in ring talent. You need a killer instinct. You need to not care about the life of the person across from you. You need to not care if you live or die. You aren't ready to go that far yet.

Your life is too precious to you.

MY life is defined by this belt. My life has been shit, and it means nothing without this belt. If I am going to die, I am going to die as the Universal Champion.

If you die, you are going to die trying to pry it from my cold fingers.

This is something that you aren't prepared for, Gabe. I don't think anyone could prepare for this, besides me. I don't think even with rigorous, military style training, that you would be ready for this war. Your mind isn't where it needs to be. Your heart simply isn't in it for all this pain.

But you DO have a future here, Gabe. Get in where you fit in. Stay in the undercard. Stay fighting the set up matches for me in the main event. Stay making entertaining promos and keeping the fans laughing and smiling. Because that is what you are good at. Let the business of a champion fall on my shoulders, because I am the ONLY one in recent memory who has proven I can handle it.

So stick with it, don't quit on us again. Just because you lose this match doesn't mean your future here is over. Some people just aren't supposed to be champion. It happens.

Consider this your wake up call. Consider this your moment of truth. Consider this your coming of age, your revelation, your christening. This is a moment of clarity.....not just for me Gabe, but for you.

For you.

Your moment of clarity will be when you look up from the mat as a beaten and broken man and you see a sight in front of you that will confirm it like an AIDS test.....

This sight will be the last sight you see before you pass out from excessive blood loss.......

Your moment of clarity.

FIN

Departure of Royalty - Lethal Lottery #5

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 19:06:26 -0700

The screen hurriedly comes on as you’re welcomed to running feet and rapidly moving grey concrete on screen. You swing the camera upwards, taking a few seconds before the image is stabilized. You see Danny Imperial standing in front his twin, large mahogany home doors. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of pink polka dot boxers, his hair in an unruly state and his beard reaching out from his face like fingers. A yawn escapes his lips as he arches his back and stretches every fiber in his body. Bringing a hand to his eyes and rubbing away at the sleep, he notices you have your camera ready. Danny gives you a lazy wink, continuing his stretching as he begins to speak.

Danny Imperial
“Well hello there, I’ve grown quite fond of you really. As I’m sure you have grown of me. I mean, we’ve spent so much time together, I’ve poured my heart out to you countless times, and we both hate that icky Scully, don’t we? See we have so much in common really, You should start telling me a little about yourself!”

You blink once, staring at Danny, confused as to what he’s aiming at. His butler had called earlier today to say that Danny had a press conference planned before he was to fly to North Korea for the big show. Danny however was however speaking to your directly.

Cameraman
“Erm, my name is Billy. Billy Hays, and I’m just a freelancer. Your… Butler? Yeah, he’s been calling me to set up these interviews, and then I send them off to XWF”

Danny smiles at you the whole time, smile unwavering and unchanging. He nods as though you’re saying something very personal and meaningful and opens his mouth to answer you almost immediately when you stop.

Danny Imperial
“A yes Gilly, it’s a pleasure to be acquainted to you, we’ll be sure to talk as much as possible on the flight to Pyongyang. Come on in, let me just get changed and we can be off.”

You stand still, arching your eyebrows and wondering what he’s on about.

Billy Hays
“Erm, it’s Billy, the flight to where?”

Danny Imperial
“Yes, yes, Pyongyang, hurry on in then, my nipples are freezing out here.”

Danny spins on his heel, letting go of the door, sending it swinging towards you. Halfway up the stairs, it almost slams into your face and the camera before a gloved hand stops it and opens it for you. You see Jackson holding the door open for you, a look of bemusement upon his face. He uses his other hand to usher you on, closing and locking the door smoothly behind you.

Jackson Turi
“Make yourself comfortable, I apologize on behalf of Danny, sorry you had to see him half-dres-“

Danny Imperial
“OI! That’s Sir to you, and there’s nothing wrong with what I was wearing. I love these boxers, I got them in Thailand that one time remember? Oh lord, that was one hell of a hangover the next day too, I love these boxers”

Jackson Tury
“Anyway, as I was saying, do make yourself comfortable. I took the liberty of filling out your travel particulars, I packed suitcase for you with your estimated sizes, everything should be in order.”

Billy Hays
“Wait, sorry, what? Where are we going? No no, I just came for an interview. I’m not going anywhere wi- HOW DID YOU GET MY PASSPORT DETAILS?!”

You shout out as you’re holding your arrival form in your hands, a paragraph of indecipherable Korean is followed by lines of questions, each answered correctly and written in impeccable handwriting. Your eyes scan the document as quickly as possible before looking up at the butler with exasperation. However, he seems to have left you on your own, form in hand. Your gaze pans across the room, lingering on the packed Briggs and Riley suitcase on the couch. It’s silver casing looked spotless and you suspect that its brand new, it’s open, though tightly packed and you notice that the clothes inside of it looked similarly brand new. Incredulity spreads through you as you walk towards it, camera still resting on your shoulder as you film every second of this bizarre morning.

Your fingers run through the clothes absent mindedly as your eyes continue to gaze through the room. Huge portraits of colorful gorillas, six feet high album covers from the eighties and a life size bust of Scarface pop out at you immediately. Compared to the red study from your second meeting with him and the red meeting room from your previous meeting, nothing about this living room seemed to speak of order. The paintings weren’t of the same sizes as the framed posters, the color schemes were all in their own wheel and you couldn’t place a specific time period on the architecture. This, this was definitely more like the Danny Imperial you’d gotten to know in the last couple of days.

Your train of thought is interrupted by a returning Danny. Dressed in what you can only describe as the perfectly tailored suit, he walks out with one hand running through his damp hair. His face is painted with his goofy smile, and his trousers are undone, another ghastly pair of boxers visible underneath them. He’s wearing a pair of fluffy slippers, bright pink and hugging his feet comfortable. In his right hand is a handheld mirror, with a little section where he has a dollop of white paint and a dollop of black paint. In his left hand is a thin paintbrush, that’s he’s using to paint his face.

Danny Imperial
“You all ready then Milly? I should be good to go in the next few minutes, if Jackson hurries his ass and gets here.”

Jackson is already standing by the door, two suitcases, identical to yours in every way but the color, his a light pink and yours a steely silver. He clears his throat to catch Danny’s attention.

Danny Imperial
“About damn time Jackson, taking your own sweet time as always. Hah! I kid, let’s go buddy!”

Danny does a little hop, walking out of the door ahead of both of you, still painting his face. As you follow him out through the doorway, you see a dark blue 2017 Maserati Quattroporte, parked right in front of his home. The driver opens the back compartment of the vehicle. As he helps Jackson with the three suitcases, including yours you notice, you and Danny enter the vehicle from either side. You seem to be moving automatically, as if following Danny’s motions without thought. Once you settle in the backseat with Danny, Jackson gets into the passenger seat, reaching back to flash you your passport.

Jackson Turi
“You’re probably wondering where I got this from, just know that I have it and you have no need to worry”

Your mouth hangs open as you glance between Danny and Jackson, your gaze and in extension the camera swinging between face to face.

Danny Imperial
“Oh, I’ve grown to stop asking questions about how he does things. Jackson’s got a flair to him, that he does, does just about everything I want him to before I even ask him to. That’s why I keep him around really, resourceful. Hah! I kid, he used to work for my Daddio. I’ve known him for ages, he’s usually quite entertaining too.

Anyways, let’s get to why I asked you to come here. I realized I hadn’t quite gotten everything I needed to off my chest. I also realized the world really needs to see a little more of me heading into Lethal Lottery. Finally, I realized that I didn’t have quite enough time to cut this promo without taking you on the flight with me. So what’s going to happen is, I’m going to take you to Pyongyang with me, if you haven’t realized already. We’ll speak on the plane about the match, have a few cocktails, eat some yummy fillet mignon or whatever tickles your belly, have a good laugh in general. How’s that sound?

Perfect! Well hush up for a bit, I have to finish up this face paint before we get to the plane, doing this can be such a pain sometimes.”

Still suffering from an incredible amount of bewilderment, you settle back into your seat, trying to figure out what you’ve landed yourself in.

The camera flickers back on, this time already settled into the leather seats of a medium-sized private jet. It wasn’t too glamorous, but definitely fitted with the best quality interior, you could almost smell Jackson’s hand in the designing. Danny is sitting before you, with his ever-present smile, waiting for you to give him a signal that you’re ready. After just staring at him for a few seconds, you give him a cautious nod, which he acknowledges.

Danny Imperial
“WONDERFUL! We’re going to have so much fun you have no idea Tilly! But before we have that fun, let’s get to business. Let’s get to Scully boy and his seeming revival. He listened Tilly! You listened Scully! I spoke to you and criticized your murder of my art and you responded with something with some life in it. I was pleasantly surprised, I must admit. The tool you used to convey your thoughts was much appreciated, rewriting a song? Brilliant. I really didn’t expect this from you after your previous lackluster performance, my friend, I really really didn’t! Thank you for trying, clearly you’ve been listening very attentively and taking it upon yourself to bettering your work. Your efforts are well appreciated.

I did have something I still found a little ugly though, unfortunately, Scullyboy. It seems like all them brainsies went to how to plate your dish, but not quite in what you were going to use to make the dish itself. For instance if I told my plane staff that I wanted the best meal they could offer me and they brought me this beautifully crafted masterpiece, only for me to find out it was made of stale beansprouts and rotting chicken carcass but made to look like a prime cut of steak, I’d be disappointed.

I really do appreciate you trying to add some spice into this meal, some flare into your dance, but it unfortunately lacked substance. Intelligent substance at least. I mean, I guess when all your intellectual ability was invested into the presentation, you were forced to revert to your homoerotic, “I’ve been hating gay men since Uncle Jeffrey touched me in the attic” humor. Or attempt at humor rather… I explicitly mentioned that in hopes you’d try something a little new? Fresh?

Just picture if Eminem repeated the same sixteen bars in two of his raps and pretended they were different. You can’t can you? Well Scully… That’s because he’s a master of his craft. Masters are able to come up with new things, that’s kind of what it means to be good at something. Milking the life out of something is like Bill Goldberg still thinking he can main event a Wrestlemania, laughable and really quite sad to see.

Sad, that’s what your promotional video made me feel. My heart ached for this once half-decent wrestler, so very confident with his abilities but clearly punching pounds above his weight class. I can’t imagine how many times that same recycled material has helped you to sell some merchandise in the stores, my friend. Your opponents thus far must’ve really been carrying the marketing side of your matches it seems. Hmm.. I don’t know, maybe you need Willy here to film you. Maybe that’s what I should do, pay you to go film Scully. He seems like he needs your brilliant filming work and ecstatic persona fighting in his corner.

Even now as I sit here, I fear for the sales of those sweet Danny Imperial shirts they just released in the XWF store. I mean, I might be new, but it seems like they’ve been yanked out of the store since I popped up. Nothing like what I could be selling in a few months, but it’s definitely more than at least one boring ol’ hag, I can think of. Scully, you’re really not helping with the sales man, ain’t pulling no wait with those skinny princess arms of yours. It’s like every time I release a pretty, fun, informative or captivating video, you decide it’s perfect time to balance it out with your repetitive “I want to drink your juices” rhetoric.

Well I’ve had it! I’ve had just about enough of your phallus-obsessed intimidation tactics. I’m starting to worry Scully, might have to check your brain for an aneurism because something must be keeping you repeating your track like Rick Astley on loop, except I really wished you’d give me up.

Well enough about your work, let me sprinkle some love to all the Danny Imperial fans, or soon to be fans out there. I’m coming to you folks! Dannyboy is ready to take Pyongyang by storm! I’ve got my six pairs of favourite boxers in a suitcase, some brilliant ideas for face paint, a handful of quotes to sign on some Betsy’s boobies and a joke or two to share on my way there. Danny is well prepared to receive all that lovin’ from all of you. Better keep your men at bay though, according to a certain BRITanny, I might not be able to control myself really, hah!

But regardless of the beauty you have witnessed me produce so far, or the quite honestly… Shameful responses by my opponent, you need not fear. I will do all of you a favour and carry this match completely on my own. I really can’t expect the Scully boy to do much when it seems like there’s something awfully wrong with his noggin’. Be it a bulging artery keeping his brain from quite fully processing what I’ve been trying to tell him, or an old brain injury from when his Mamy dropped him on his headsies keeping him from thinking of anything other than reasons as to why I’d want someone’s phallus in my mouth… Scully just isn’t going to be very much to tango with in that ring.

And I feel like I need to up my game, dance for two people, tango for four maybe! I’d do anything to make sure that when I roll out of that ring with a win on my record, I leave behind a beautifully painted canvas. Be it with the dying hopes and dreams of Scully, or his physical blood sprayed across the ring, it’s going to be a sight to see folks! Come on in, step right down to witness a masterpiece like no other. I unfortunately cannot provide you with a duet, but by god will I provide you with a beauty. I swear it!

I’ll dance around my opponent, leap over him and duck between his legs. I’ll have his pride turn slowly to frustration, then to blinding anger, confusion and finally bone-chilling fear. I’ll have him on his knees, eyes glazed over, begging with every fiber in his body for me to stop making art with his flesh. He’ll beg me to complete my work whilst wishing fervently that he had agreed to dance with me earlier. Finally he’ll feel nothing at all, just lying there in the center of the ring, unable to tilt his head after a glorious Imperius Rex, staring up at the bright lights of your stadium. All this… I’ll no longer have done for him, but for you folk. I’ve given up on my dear Scully I think, I think he’s given up on himself too. When a man gives up on himself, as he clearly has done, I can only hope to use him as a tool to entertain the masses.

So North Korea… The World. What you’re about to witness is a spectacle like no other. The panty-dropping brilliance of Danny Imperial on full display in a stadium filled with Betsys and Carls alike, broadcasted out for all of you to savor. I shan’t let you down, I shan’t let myself down and oh I will definitely not let Scully down. Tis’ just a shame he’ll have to experience being laid out on a mat two shows in a row, this time though, he won’t have no thirteen year old cutie to blame for it, only himself.

That’s right Scully, I sure hope you’re thinking about this as you make your way to Pyongyang, because you’re going to have so much fun you can’t even imagine it! And Villy will be here the whole time to record it, every second you spend lying on that mat and every drop of blood you spill at my hands, we’ll have it all on record and I’ll be sure to send you a nice DVD before even XWF does. Maybe then, when you watch the match on repeat for the rest of the week, you’ll realize that it’s damn well time that you woke up from your slumber and start to take this seriously, because as much as I like playing with you, I definitely do. So the table is set, the meat is carved and by golly I’m ready to… Sink my teeth in.”

Through his monologue, Danny’s facial expression slowly molded to one of throbbing hunger. The flicker of intensity that emanated from him with his final four words shook you visibly. He seemed genuinely irked by lack of respect to the art he spoke of and needed to remedy it by causing some real damage. Danny licked his lips, smiling once more. However this time, you didn’t see that boyish smile you were so accustomed to. Rather you saw the smile of man ready to sit down for a much anticipated feast.

The Art of War Chapter 2

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 18:28:39 -0700

The Art Of War, Chapter 2

“To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

---As much as he would try to flip the script, Gabe Reno was a beaten man. He was broken, defeated, and the bell hadn't even rang yet. You could see it in his promos. He was desperate, nervous, anxious....afraid. He knew what was at stake but he questioned himself as to if he could actually get the job done. He looked at his reflection in the mirror every day and hated what he saw. He could never be Chris, as much as he wanted to be. He was opening up more and more with each promo. He was exposing his fear. He was showing his desperation. He was reaching for any straw he could. He was a tired, aching, broken man. He just needed one break. One break and maybe he could get by. But that break wasn't coming, and he knew it. He knew it and he hated it. It consumed him. He was obsessed with his own failures. You could see it in his eyes, and hear it every time he opened his mouth. He was paranoid. THAT was the opportunity that Chris would take advantage of at Lethal Lottery. He would prey on Gabe's own self doubt until what lay before him was nothing more than a pile of ripped skin and broken bones. A soulless organism devoid of any human characteristics. Gabe Reno brought this on himself, and he knew it. He had made a monster, and now that monster was after him.

“He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight. ”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

---There was a reason that Gabe has put out more promos, and had been seen more on XWF TV. Chris was not going to get sucked into a war of word with this moron. He was going to say what needed to be said, when it needed to be said, then take care of the rest in the ring. Picking your battles is the most important part. Anyone who had been following this rivalry for the past few months would surely think Gabe was in the lead. His childish pranks and mind games were cunning and coy, but Chris was a warrior. He didn't bring himself down to that level. Every move he made was planned out, and executed to perfection. He wasn't in it for humor and entertainment. He was in it to be the best in the world at what he does--something he proved each and every time he stepped between those ropes. He knew when to pick his battles, and in this case it was to be at the Pay Per View. Sure, he could have done so much more....he could have slashed Gabe's tires. He could have put laxatives in his water bottle. He could have hired male strippers to wait for him in his locker room with a boom box and a bottle of grease. But those were all things that Gabe Reno would do. Those weren't the actions of, not just a champion, but the TOP champion this business had to offer. He knew when to attack and when to fall back and let the enemy over think. This was one of those times. He sat in his hotel room in North Korea and let Gabe wallow in his own self doubt. Picking your battles is a war you will always win.

“War is like a fire - if you do not put it out, it will burn itself out.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

---This fire was a bit more difficult than most. This fire continued to rage up from its embers. Everytime it looked like the fire might be dying down, it gets refuled like the austistic boy scout at camp who sprays it with aerosal while everyone yells "GABE NOOOOO". This is a fire he would have to put out himself. There would be no fizzling, and no time to let it fizzle. This had to end here. There was no amount of water in the world that could put this fire out, so it would have to be the cold breath of pure evil that did it. Gabe had pushed too many buttons. He had made a creature that he could not control. Dr. Gabe Frankenstein was going to be a victim of his own creation. Chris was going to put this fire out, end this war. Gabe Reno was simply a pawn in the chess game at this point. It was only a matter of time before he was jumped, surpassed, and set next to the table to watch as the king ravaged the rest of the board. Checkmate. Gabe Reno was walking into the mouth of hell and all he had was a squirt gun. There was no way he was going to be able to put out a fire this big. Chris had the hose. He had the power. He had the endless supply. Chris was the hope that every member of the roster kept deep inside and refused to let surface. The Great White Hope. He was going to be the final gush that put this fire out for good. That put Gabe Reno out for good.

“He who wishes to fight must first count the cost,”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

---Chris had counted it over and over and over again. Counted it so much that he swore there were some grey hairs in there. There was no cost greater than this. There was no hope or honor to defend outside of this. Holding this title made him whole. It made him who he was. There was nothing on planet earth that could mean more to him in this moment. He wondered if Gabe Reno had counted the cost. Had he weighed the pros and cons of the beating he was about to take. Had he really sat down and thought about the cost of having a few years of his career taken away from him, only to lose to the better man? Had he counted the cost of opening his mouth and poking the bear? Chris doesn't think he had. Look at the first time these two squared off. Gabe ended up in the hospital and for all intents and purposes quit the XWF before coming back and having to basically beg Vinnie for his job back. Chris had been pushed, sure, but in the end he squashed Gabe like the vermin he was. The blood loss was amazing. He didn't think a human could bleed that much. And Gabe wanted to do this dance again? Well it takes two to tango....and Chris was more than willing of beating him to within an inch of his life for a second time. He was perfectly fine with it. He had counted the cost of this and any and all pain he may feel, he felt, was completely worth it.

Chris sat in his hotel room, overlooking the grey and dreary city known a Pyongyang. This is where his war had taken him. His war with Gabe Reno. His war to remain the top dog in a business that was dog eat dog.

He was the biggest dog, therefore he was the hungriest.

On the wall of the hotel and plastered all over the fuzzy screen of the television was military propaganda. It was very anti-American. However, it was beautiful in a way. Depictions of tanks, soldiers in perfect formation, marching to the beat of a hidden organ. The colorful landscape--a sea of red, yellow and orange as the people in attendance did a dance and sang songs of revolution. This was creepy, but beautiful in its own way. It was art.

The Art of War.

Nearby was a photo of Kim Jong-un with Dennis Rodman, his new found friend as both had a love of basketball. Chris rememberd the New York Post article he had read before leaving for this god forsake place:

In so many ways, Dennis Rodman seems the diplomat North Korea deserves: defiant, unpredictable, irrational, unhinged.

Yet the comic aspects of his so-called “basketball diplomacy” — the drunken defense of dictator Kim Jong-un on CNN; serenading Kim with “Happy Birthday”; gifting him with several bottles of his own liquor, Bad Ass Vodka; allowing his “Dream Team” of motley ex-and wannabe NBA players to lose to the North Koreans — has turned the most brutal regime in the world into a punchline for late-night comics.

Lost among the jokes is the suffering of the average North Korean — the 24.7 million who live in abject poverty in the world’s most isolated nation.

North Korea’s human-rights record has been condemned by Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and the United Nations. Aside from saber-rattling, the government maintains little communication with the outside world.

The nation has so little electricity that, in the ultimate metaphor, nighttime satellite imagery shows North Korea gone dark, the only country in the world not illuminated. Travelers are only allowed to move within a circumscribed part of Pyongyang and are chaperoned and surveilled by government officials.

Most North Koreans have access to that one TV station and one newspaper, both state-run; they are told that their country is the only functioning and prosperous nation on Earth and that outside rages an apocalypse.

If only they knew. The apocalypse was coming to THEIR country in just a matter of hours. An apocalypse for one man inside a steel cage. 15 feet high. Totally enclosed.

“The art of war teaches us to rely not on the likelihood of the enemy’s not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

---Gabe was coming guns blazing, there was no question about that. Gabe was going to give everything he had in this match....but it just wasn't enough. Chris was ready for this. Gabe claims Chris isn't ready for what he is going to experience inside that steel cage. That couldn't be further from the truth. Chris was beyond ready for anything and everything coming his way. Chris would take each blow and deal out one two times harder. He was ready for every punch, every suplex, every move Gabe knows. It was all coming and all Chris could do was take it all in with open arms. He wouldn't be a champion if he wasn't the most ready in the biggest moments. The REAL question here is whether or not Gabe is ready for what is coming to him.

“All men can see the tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

---Chris had put years into perfecting his craft. Since the moment the bell rang in his first ever match, he had become a student of the game. A pupil. Tape after tape. He would watch it all. Every move, analyze the good and bad. Watching a 10 minute match would take him hours sometimes, because he broke down every aspect of what wasn't executed to pure perfection. Every single inch of the match was gone over with a fine tooth comb. Improve. That was the goal. Every single match he would grow a little more becaue he learned from previous mistakes. This was the art of a true champion. This is what made a champion good, what set him apart from others. The reason Chris was so successful was because he was a student of the game.

This is now a war. This never was a war, nor did it have to be. Gabe Reno made it that way. Gabe Reno made it into something it didn't need to be. This was a war that was spurned on by jealousy. Pure and simple. This was a war that that came from sheer greed. One party wanted to be what the other one was, and would not let it go. So they attacked in ambush fashion, over and over, trying to wear the bigger more superior foe down. Get under their skin. But it didn't work. All it did was make the bigger, faster and stronger foe angry.

He wouldn't like him when he was angry.

Nobody did. He hadn't been this angry in so long. In a way, Chris needed this. He needed that poke. He needed to be awoken. The sleeping giant within him needed to be taken forcefully out of hibernation.

Now he was. This was a war. Pure and simple. It would ravish communities, destroy families, cause billions in damage. It would forever alter the lives of all of those involved. This was a war that wasn't going to have mass casualties, however. It would only require one. Gabe Reno. The Radical One.

The Radically Delusional.

The false hope that maybe the little guy had a chance. The false hope that maybe the meek could actually inherit the earth.

It was exactly that. False hope. False hope fueled by empty promises, shallow words and broken dreams.

Shattered remains of what could have been.

This was hell on earth, North Korea. For Gabe Reno, that hell comes ten fold. A mile of unforgiving steel. Not only does he have to be pinned, but he has to be pinned TWICE. Oh, the humiliation. The fact that he not only has to get beaten but beaten twice. Gabe's entire world was about to turn upside down.

If only he knew.....

If only his delusional mind would allow him to know.

This war just got personal.

Chris was looking at himself in the mirror......he was admiring the face of a champion. XWF camera's were on him. It was time for his final words......

"I am an animal, Gabe. I am an animal that you created. But it is not a Panda, oh no. Panda's are not just cute and cuddly but essentially useless. An animal that size, refined to captivity, so passive and okay with whatever fate may come its way. No. That is not me. I am a tiger. I have teeth that can tear you to shreds without even trying. I stalk my prey, moving virtually in silence, and attack when my prey is at its most vulnerable point. That is you, Gabe. You are the most vulnerable right now....more vulnerable than you have ever been. You are a wounded animal, and you know it. You are just trying to stay hidden long enough to heal so you can put up some sort of resistance when the tiger comes for you. There is no place to hide. That cage, it is my jungle. That cage, it is my sanctuary. I am out for blood now, Gabe.

I said it before, and I will say it again. I am dangerous. I shouldn't be let out of my cage, Gabe. You have made me this way. You couldn't just leave well enough alone. Well now you are going to find out just how dangerous I can be. I have only felt this way once before in my entire life. It was with Jason Corrigan. A hatred doesn't burn this white-hot very often. This is something that is rare. More rare than a Gabe Reno title win. You see......this is a war, and there is an art to this shit. There is a beauty of it. When it comes to the art of war they call me goddamn Van Gogh. War is my forte, as is chaos. I like being the aggressor, and I like demoralizing my enemies. I like painting a picture of their fate. I am not getting dragged into a war of back and forth words like kids on a playground, Gabe. I am going to keep this one short, and sweet, I----"

His words were cut off. There was a knock on his hotel room door. His mandatory transport to the arena had arrived. You can't go anywhere in North Korea without a state given escort. He and Jenny looked at each other, and Chris reached out and turned the camera off. The sound of the door opening cut though the blackness before the audio cut out, too.

The Profane Pet

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 16:57:33 -0700

Scully and Natalie had recently decided that maybe they should get a pet or pretty much Scully was told they were having one. Natalie thought little Aston would like a pet in the house and left it up to Scully to make a decision. This wasn't his sort of thing, in fact he didn't have a clue, all he knew is that Natalie hated snakes and he didn't like spiders. He also knew that she was quite adamant that she didn't want a dog or even a cat. Skull wasn't sure what the hell she wanted but whatever it was would probably be expensive. He had a few animals in mind, a turtle maybe? He actually liked the idea of that. Fish of some sort? Not a battered Cod obviously but maybe a Goldfish or some tropical fish? Maybe a rabbit or a guinea pig? Or some sort of rodent? A dirty old rat? Could call him Ratouille or they could call him Pat the rat? Or maybe a little mouse and call him Stuart Little? The options were endless but Scully had made a decision, something that he wanted when he was younger and seeing he was left in charge to make that decision, that is what he would do.

Natalie had taken Aston to her mothers, grannies house. Scully had to get the pet by himself, he would also have to buy the cage, whatever it needed and all that jazz. Skull had a look on Google to see where the best place to go would be. He did his usual research and after checking reviews decided to go 'Animal Crackers' located at 280 NE 2nd St, Miami, FL 33132. Scully had just found a parking space out front and then exited the vehicle. He goes into the busy pet store and thought he would have a wonder, a nose, a look around. Scully looks at various animals, rabbits, guinea pig's, some funny faced fish. He looks at a Bearded Dragon, he always wondered whether to get one of those. 'Hmmmmmm' he thought. After toying with the idea, he decides against it and goes to look at what he had in mind in the first place. The reason he went to the pet shop, was in order to buy himself an exotic bird. Scully walks up to an assistant and gets his attention.

"You know I've had a number of birds in my life but I'm now looking for something really special. A pet bird that is, on this occasion. Have you got anything I might like?"

The shop assistant chuckles at Scully's joke about the birds.

He then tells Scully simply,"Follow me."

Scully follows behind the shop assistant as he takes him to the variety of birds in store. Scully has a look at the various coloured cockatiels, the love birds and the cockatoos and then explains what he's looking for.

"I always wanted a parrot but one that is unique or just has something about him or her?"

The shop assistant thinks for a moment, suddenly the light is on and he holds his index finger up.

Shop Assistant: ""I have a South American parrot rumored to have a vocabulary of over 400 words. He can talk about the weather, about sports and about politics. But I might add, he is very expensive."

"Can I see him?"

One moment sir."

The assistant goes into the back room and brings out an exquisite greenbird with bright feathers and a dark, golden beak.

Shop Assistant: "Do you mind if I just serve this lady and you can have a minute with the parrot? We're short staffed today, Bryan rang in sick, again."

"That's cool."

The shop assistant sets the bird on a perch and excuses himself to take care of another customer in another part of the shop.

Scully looks at the bird and starts talking to it in the usual way, "Pretty bird, pretty bird, Polly want a cracker? I don't have any but nevermind."

The bird replies in such beautiful English Scully can hardly believe his ears.

Parrot: "Please call me Jasper. I am a boy, not a girl."

"Jasper hey? Jasper Parrot?! So Jasp, I was wondering if you like football?"

Jasper Parrot: "I do. I like the New England Patriots. They have a great history."

Scully is dumbfounded. He then explains, "That's not what I meant. I meant real football."

Jasper Parrot: "You mean soccer? I actually support Boca Juniors aswell as Brasil obviously. But I do like Chelsea from England. You?"

Scully stares at the parrot, shocked, "Yeah I support Astonvilla."

Jasper Parrot: "You have great history, I don't think you'll be promoted this season but next, definitely."

The shop assistant is on his way back over when Scully shouts, "I'll take him, I'll take him home with me today. Right now!" Scully says excitedly.

Shop Assistant:]"Very good, sir."

Scully and the shop assistant go to the till. He then gets a shock.

Shop Assistant: "All together, that is a total of $4, 215 please?"

"How much?!" Scully asks loudly. He calms himself down before speaking again.

"Okay... I guess. Thank you."

Shop Assistant: "Thank you."

They conclude the transaction, Scully shakes the hand of the assistant seemingly thrilled with his purchase. Skull walks out with the parrot on his shoulder, the cage with it's accessories in hand and food of course. Whilst driving back, Jasper sits quietly but as soon as they get to Scully's home, the bird goes into a loud tirade of profanity. One four-letter word after another. On and
on without end.

Jasper Parrot: "FUCK! CUNT! SLAG! SLUT! WANK! SHIT! ANUS! HOMO! TITS! TWAT! DYKE! JIZZ!"

Scully can't believe it.

"Look, bird, you didn't do any of this in the shop. I have guests coming over tonight, my future mother-in-law and her partner. Don't you dare embarrass me with this kind of language."

The bird continues on and on with the profane cursing.

Jasper Parrot: "COON! COCK! PAKI! ARSE! CLIT! HEEB! DICK!"

"That's it!"

Skull gets fed up and throws the parrot into his freezer. That will quiet him down, thinks Scully. He hopes.

Sure enough, within a minute or two, Jasper has gone completely silent. Scully opens the freezer and the bird takes a deep bow.

Jasper Parrot: "Forgive me sir, I will never talk like that again. I just do not know what got it to me."

Scully sighs and nods his head. It seems he is satisfied and motions for the bird to perch on his shoulder and Skull goes about his business.

A few minutes later the Jasper leans over to his ear and asks quietly, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Uh, what exactly did the chicken do?"

Scully can't help himself as he bursts out laughing at the parrots comical side. Scully

"Okay Jasper, we need to set some ground rules. When it's just me and you, if you're not getting on my nerves, you can swear but I need you to be your polite self when anyone else is around, especially my son. "

Jasper Parrot: "Very well sir. Understood. Anyway master are you some sort of bodybuilder?"

"No, I'm a wrestler. I'm a company called the Xtreme Wrestling Federation."

Jasper seems very thrilled with this, "Wow, my owner is a wrestler?"

"Indeed. Let me show you my opponent at the next Pay-per-view."

Scully gets up some pictures of Danny Imperial and shows the parrot, believe it or not, his opponent at Lethal Lottery.

Jasper Parrot: "What a bellend!"

Scully bursts out laughing.

Jasper Parrot: "He looks like a Prick, I want to peck his fucking eyes out!"

"Keep going, you're hilarious. Hahahaha."

Jasper Parrot: "What's his name?

"Danny Imperial."

Jasper Parrot: "Imperial? Nothing Imperial about this guy. Imperial Leather soap is used to wash yourself, this Twat looks like he hasn't washed for years. Dirty DICK."

Scully laughs even more advanced he finds it hard to stop laughing.

Jasper Parrot: "Imperial Mints are meant to freshen your breath, I bet his smells like shit. Danny's breath is so bad, we don't know if he needs gum or toilet paper."

Scully laughs hard. His new pet was funny. Jasper pecks the image of Danny on Scully's phone. Skull moves it away incase he accidentally cracks it.

Jasper Parrot: "Danny Imperial.. Poof be gone, your breath is too strong, I don't wanna be mean, but you need listerine, not a sip, not a swallow, but the whole friggin' bottle."

Skull continues to laugh immensely until the key in the front door can be heard unlocking. Skull quickly looks at Jasper and tells him, "Time to behave, okay?"

The door opens, Skull and Jasper go to greeted Natalie and Aston at the front door. Aston runs up to his daddy until he see's Jasper perched on Skulls shoulder, now he isn't so sure. Natalie isn't sure either as she shuts the door behind her. Skull kneels down with Jasper.

"Aston, this is Jasper, our new pet."

Jasper Parrot: "How do you do, young man?"

Aston smiles instantly at Jasper and slowly strokes his head as Daddy tells him to be gentle.

Natalie seems impressed too, "Wow, he speaks pretty good."

Scully stands up with Jasper still perched on his shoulder. Jasper then cheekily says to Natalie, "Hello beautiful."

Natalie is chuffed and she strokes the new family pet, who has made a good impression in the family.

This is Dan

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 15:21:34 -0700

Here we are in a shed? Yes, that's right in Scully's little man cave. He has made the big shed at the back of the garden his own little Skulldom. Inside he has a leather sofa, a 42" Black Smart TV on a stand, an Xbox One on a shelf with games tidely stacked at the side. He has a punchbag and Body Power Rubber Hex Dumbbells & Rack 3,4,6,8 & 10Kg weights. Skull is sat on a black office chair, a wooden table is placed in front of him. He was looking at an envelope before looking in to the camera which Alfie was holding.

" Welcome to Scullycam, home of the Scullycam, can I take your order? What was that? The Imperial on a stick? It can be arranged. I'm offended I gave Fanny boy a B for effort and clearly thinks I deserve an F. The student is trying to be cocky and teach the teacher? He is telling the man who knows what it takes to win the biggest title in the XWF how to do my shit? Wow... Just wow. He is basically calling me a has-been? And clearly believes my career is tumbling down a hill. It appears he thinks he is superior to me and is telling me how to be me?! No one tells Scully what to do, I am No One's Property.
That new York Yankee doodle has been sending me some mail, I guess he did know where I live cuz he posted this, obviously. Anyway I'll get to that crap momentarily, right now I need to address some more turd that I had to watch a short time ago. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't flattering but hey I had to watch it, I would call that effort wouldn't you, Danny? I sat and I dosed, I tried to keep my eyes open but I did it. Watching your promo's is an achievement in itself. It's painful, over bearing but I gotta do what I gotta do. You say I have no creativity? Are you expecting me to take a leaf out of your book and go through your things in your home? The home where you apparently have a Butler? Jeffrey, Jeeves whatever his name was? Is this meant to impress me? You say I lack effort? Well I can't say the same for you, you're paying your cousin Marvin to pretend to be your be Butler now? Damn, you're desperate. I don't need a Butler cuz I got a woman hahaha. Seriously, I'm a grown man, I can wipe my own ass and cook my own Lasagne, I don't need no snobby Wanker to do it for me. I'm a independent man, I suppose if your sperm ever learns to swim, you might have to learn yourself because how could you teach your kid if you don't know yourself? Maybe you don't want children? I guess mummy always did everything for you?! She not around anymore? She dead? I'm asking all these questions because.. I don't actually know why, because as your little brain has figured out, I don't really care about you!

I know that hurts your little feelings but sometimes the truth has that effect on crybaby, bitches. So you can stop asking me to care about you and stop begging me to go out with you. You're embarrassing yourself, I've told you numpteen times. No equals No and still means NO. You are complaining that you want more from me, that I should be giving you all the attention in the world. I think I'm giving you alot more than you deserve, you ungrateful bastard. First of all, I am giving you an opportunity to start your career here in style by somehow beating me. We all know that ain't going to happen but you are still be given a chance. Secondly, I have acknowledged you more than enough. You've whinged, you've whined, you've cried, all over the fact that I spoke about the likes of Dolly Waters, Vinnie Lane etcetera but I hate to break it to you, they're all way more important than you. Plus I can speak about whatever the fuck I like, the world doesn't revolve around some newbie, rookie who hasn't even lost his first tooth yet. No. I have been more than generous, you should be thanking me for that. This is most times the name 'Danny Imperial' has been mentioned, EVER!

I didn't know you played the organ? I mean it was pretty awful, shocking and the song.. Well that was total cow pat. But you tried and you showed us what we knew all along, you are a talentless, worthless, piece of... Arrr forget it, I don't want to insult shit any more! So you like dancing do you? Dirty Dancing? Grease? Bring It In on? That's dancing right, sorta, cheerleaders. Billy Elliott? Erm.. Step Up? Think we get it now."

Danny Imperial: Said:"But I desire your part in this dance we’re about to dance."

"Okay it kind of sounds but hey I won't judge. Oh wait.. Ive changed my mind, just like that. Are we going to the XWF ball or something? I told you no already. Have you ever wrestled before? We're not having dance off, we're having a fight. Maybe we could have a dance off during the match? But for the most part of it, you're going to be getting your head smashed around the ring, in the ring and wherever else possible. From the get go I said loud and proud that your promo's suck and were crap right? You couldn't think of anything else to say other than the same about mine?
Original Pirate Material, ya listening to da Skull, lock down your aerial.

One promo you repeatedly told me how much you cared and wanted anal sex with yours truly as you took us down memory lane. That's the thing, you need to realise what is important here. Not me losing to Peter Gilmour, not my trip as a kid to WCW. You see what is important is whats going to happen to you at Lethal Lottery and I promise it won't be victory for you. Now you just repeat yourself over and over again about how my promo's are dull? But you couldn't just say it for a little while, you had to say it for the whole thing! Think someone is running out of options. Looked like you had fun at the carnival though and you call me childish? Please don't tell me to grow up again, don't be a hypocrite who tells me I have no mates when you sat on the ride by yourself. Don't call me friend because you need a friend. I like being a loner in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, no one can be trusted, everyone turns on you at some stage or vice versa. I won the XWF Universal Championship as part of The Union. The Union abandoned me to pursue other things. It happened to me before The Union too, I am the Union now and I can only rely on myself. You may rely on your Butler to butter your bread but I rely on... Me! Anyway let's open the mail you so kindly sent.

Warning: Contains Homosexuality most probably..."

Scully opens the first letter as a familiar song begins to play......

Scully smiles at the camera as the popular chorus is sung by Dildo, I meant Dido. Scully then starts to drop his lyrics, he raps the letter out loud.

Verse 1
Dear Skull, I wrote you, but you still ain't callin'
I left my cell, my pager and my home phone at the bottom
I sent two letters back in autumn
You must not've got 'em
There probably was a problem at the post office or somethin'
Sometimes I write addresses too when I jot 'em
But anyways, fuck it, what's been up, man?
How's your son?
I would like a kid too but it's hard when you take it up the bum.
Yes, I'm gay and I suck dick all day,
I wish you liked men like me, I would even pay?
Look man, it's okay I think I understand,
I now gotta role by myself, put my todger in my hand.
Is that how it is? You don't like dat jizzy?
I sucked someone's penis so hard,
It made my head all dizzy!
I'm right here, if you want me to taste your cum? I know I come across a little dumb.
Anyways, I hope you get this, man, hit me back
Just to chat, truly yours, ya biggest fan, this is Dan.

The chorus plays again as Scully nods his head and opens the second letter.

Verse 2
Dear Skull, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad - I just think it's FUCKED UP you don't want to romance.
Do you wanna talk to me outside of the ring? And see my ding-a-ling?
Come on man you have to, you gotta see my tiny tackle too.
I can show you my barbies man, I have my little Pony,
Aswell as frozen figures yeah, I'm so lonely.
I keep asking you, you just say, "No." Why though?
That's pretty shitty man - you're like my fucking idol
I want to be just like you man, no one likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad though, I just want you to care too.
Put some effort in, don't let us be through.
Do my Crack?- See I'm just trying to be gay, yay.
I never knew my father was neither;
He used to always cheat on my mom and bumrape her
I can relate to what you're saying in your promo's,
So when I have a shitty day, I imagine we're are Homos.
Together, forever' that shit helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo with your name across the chest
Sometimes I even Wank myself to see how much I jizz,
It's like adrenaline, you should see, the cum tastes so good to me
See everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it
My boyfriend's jealous 'cause I talk about you 24/7
But he don't know you like I know you Skull, no one does
Everytime I see you get some sort of emotional Buzz.
You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever
Sincerely yours, Dan
P.S.
We should be together, too

A video from Imperial is then put on during the chorus.
Chorus

Verse 3
Dear Mister I'm-Too-Good-To-Call-Or-Write-My-Fans,
I won't let you see my package, I won't let you bum my ass
It's been six hours and still no word. I don't deserve it?
I know you got my last two letters;
I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect
So this is my video I'm sending you, I hope you see it
I'm in the car right now, I'm doing 20 on the freeway
Hey Skull, I drank a fifth of Cola, you dare me to drive?
I love you Skull, more than anyone alive.
I love you more than Natalie, she got me frowning
I'm so jealous, I bet she doesn't lick your rim?
I promise I'll finish with my lover called Tim.
Don't let it be too late. My chin is weaker than Rhonda Rousy
My in ring ability is awful, im so lousy. I need your call,
I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall
I love you, Skull we coulda been together, think about it
You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you scream about it
I hope your conscience eats at you and you can't breathe without me.
See, Skull,—Nat is a bitch! I really want you to taste my spunk?
Hey, Skull, if you don't agree, I'll just get you drunk.
I'd slit her throat, I just want to tie you up. See, I like you
'Cause if I keep trying more, and then you'll give in too?
Well, gotta go, Natalie is still a cow
Oh shit, I forgot, how'm I supposed to send this shit out?"

Scully ends the song abruptly without giving his own response like Eminem does. He looks into the camera and then just ends the promo without a CARE in the world.

RADICAL | 'GOLD' | UNIVERSAL #8

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 14:42:54 -0700

RADICAL

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RADICAL

yesterday, 08:32 PM

Post: #1

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RADICAL | ☆ | "GOLD" | ☆ | XWF#049 | ☆ | LETHAL LOTTERY 4 | ☆ | VERSUS CHRIS CHAOS FOR THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP | ☆ | #08

GOLDEN |☆| SHOWER

THE VERY BEST | NOTHING MORE | NOTHING LESS

A sidewalk comes into view. One single drop hits leaving a wet splash imprint. Then another. A light sheet of sprinkles douse the ground. Signs in Korean writing get scrolled by along the carved out path to a leaf covered area of a park in the middle of the night. Wind gusting the occasional grouping of fallen brush under a lamppost. A damp serene silent evening. Footsteps can be heard against the cement sidewalk. Bundled up in a scarf and coat a man walks down the pathway and over to a bench. He slides damp leaves off the seating planks, finding a dry spot beneath part of an enormous tree canopy above.

BRRRR! Chilly out tonight.

Blowing hot air from his lungs into intertwined fingers for warmth; his face finally emerges while doing so. Gabe Reno looks up into the drizzle. Reveling in something amazing coming from the sky. He reaches his hand out just to where the tree cover shielding him ends. Drops hit his hand. He pulls his arm back and notices what seems to be a miracle. The rain on his hand is gold. He smirks to himself in disbelief. Shaking his head, then drying his hand; he looks off into the distance in front of him. The shot over his shoulder from behind barely picking up the top of a large arena near the horizon. Suddenly it hits his stream of consciousness. What lies in front of him. The journey, and where it leads. An ear to ear grin; a golden twinkle in his eye lights up his entire face. Color in the form of a golden blush changes the hue of his cheeks. An epiphany in the form of a daydream.

"Ladies and gentlemen,

Winner,

AND NEW...

UNIVERSAL CHAMPION..."

In the background the water falling gets torrentially worse. Now looking like a golden wall just beyond the broad shoulders of 'The Radical'. These sheets of rain come down harder. Making it difficult to see anything but him. The tree's begin to sway back and forth from the wind picking up speed. Trash from a city park garbage bin flies by. Leaves blow past on the ground and in the air. Dancing through the wild wet conundrum of where to land. Water hits the tip of his nose. No blink. No change in expression. An unheralded focus. Unfazed in his dynamic stare... nothing can distract him from the inherit daydream that forces a stop and a whisper.

( CHAMP... ION. )

Transfixed on the mission. Obsessed with the rightful outcome. Needing the nourishment that can only come from ripping the Championship from Chris Chaos' wanting fingers. Then raising it high above. Giving the XWF what it truly deserves... a worthy Champion. A representative who will not grow stale or complacent. A real man. Refusing to break concentration, Gabe recounts what all of it means, tucked in a dry bench nook just out of harms way. He reaches out a hand to help illustrate the feelings deep inside. Moving it as if a painter delivering his final masterpiece. Stroke by stroke. Building to one magnificent final piece of heaven.

Wanting to hear those words before my name was announced kept me in this business for years. It's not easy to win a centerpiece Championship at the biggest places. Each company has its own set of pros. Its own cons. Many grueling obstacles along the way. To hear that... means that you've accomplished something that most wrestlers never do. Never will. You're probably injured by this point. Chronic conditions. Ailments you may never be the same from again. From scratching and clawing your way up the ranks. Day by day. Show after show. Sometimes two a day. Sometimes more. Those words make it all worthwhile. I've heard them before. I've been fortunate enough to have the kind of career guys only dream of. But I'm far from satisfied. And nothing would mean more to me than hearing them again. Here. Now. Over this opponent. Meaning is a funny thing. You can have grand entrances, and the best matches, and it could mean a lot, or it could just be a paycheck you cash and turn the page on. It was never that for me. Lately, it seems like it is becoming that for Chris Chaos. I've seen it all before. The empty eyes. Taking longer in the "Guerilla Position" than before. Trying to understand things about matches that used to be second nature. I have seen wrestlers that started acting that way after a hard hit. A concussion before all the protocols we have now. Others weren't injured, they just... mentally... fade away. Either from lack of interest, or they just, fade altogether in their life. Wrestling can be a symptom of success. It can also be a reason for failure. Chris heard those words not long ago when he won the Universal. He was filled with exuberance. Pride. Just like I will be at Lethal Lotto. The long road trips, years of training and barely eating, oh yeah, even the dirty road pussy. All of it comes into perspective. This is why I put myself through it all for as long as I have, and never gave up. Chris may remember it, but I will FEEL IT. OWN IT. BE IT. And enjoy it. He can say what he wants about me. That's fine. Because when those words are murmured by the announcer... I will be whole. A wonderful moment. An eternal stride. A crowning achievement.

He picks up his feet to avoid a rush of water from the thick pouring rain. Looking back up, he imagines posted signs around him in the park within his poignant vivid daydream. One of a "Volcano". Another of a "Ghost". A baby "Cradle" symbol. Various types of "Shadows". A "Specialty" love letter. One simply reading "Anti-Chaos" with a line strike through it. And finally, the face of an "Angry Panda". Gabe's pupils widen. Like any good meal he knows that the refrigerator is filled with all of his favorites. Irony, talent, aggression, and charisma. Knowing is half the battle in his mind, now recounting the parts that will make him Devine.

All the ingredients are there. The doubt has crept in and consumed Chris Chaos. Made him question not IF HE CAN win, but HOW HE WILL lose. XWF golden Radicality born on the heels of Chaos showered in shame. While the shower of sparkling gold confetti rains down upon the beginning of a fresh reign as XWF Universal Champion... my God; it's perfect. True life instants like this are too good to be written in a fairy tale. Because it is earned and deeper than any superficial thing ever could be. Imagination pales in comparison to flesh and... gold. Too real. Chris, himself, could write a fairy tale when this is all over. He could call it... "When I was" and inspire kids across the country, hell, the globe to be what he became; as long as he stops before the final real life chapter. Because in the same context that fairy tale's don't do real profound victories the proper depth of justice, they also cannot recreate the complete agony that accompanies real life failure. When I wrap my hands around his throat, then around that belt... it will be my defining chapter. Like a raging boner ready to blast. A hard on that never goes away. All the positions. Can you imagine? I'm hard just thinking about it. Wait, I think that might just be needing to pee...

Here it comes Chris, are you ready?

For your Golden Shower?

The signs all disappear from view. Replaced by what looks like a hologram of Chris Chaos signing autographs, getting done with the last one, then tucking himself behind a curtain, eyes watery with ironic certainty. The worst kind. The face of a lost man. The type of internal loss that no travel plans can erase; no flight can soar away from; no layover can put to rest; and no hell can burn into anew. A sickly look. Like that of an old man who has just been diagnosed with the thing that will end him.

Tragic. Grasping for straws usually is. That's all you have left, Chris. A flickering flame about to die out. Trying to find a way to stay lit, but the wick just isn't long enough to last. A Shakespearian fall from grace. With the linguistic awe of an Icon. But the repulsive distaste of a water sport fetish. Like a disease. The long goodbye. Where the subject doesn't even realize what's happened, but instead that they just aren't the same anymore. Dignity fleeting by the day. Other people bathing you as you tell stories of how your body "didn't used to be like this", they nod like a dismissive parent and turn you over to wash the other side. Then call it "the worst part" of their job later at home while they pet their many cats and tell them all about their day because no one else will listen. Nurses try to help, but you're too stubborn about what you've lost to see what you still have left. A life. A rocking chair. Some expired magazines on a side table next to your awfully flavored Jello. Because that's what they give you when its time, Chris. The stuff no one will miss. Like you. Your golden years. But only bronze as a man, aren't ya? Not even second place. Maybe third. For now. Until you deteriorate even more and continue this vicious downward spiral into obscurity. Bronze it is. You convince yourself it looks a lot like gold, but it's still just bronze. Good ole bronze. Not even silver. Fucking Bronze. What happened to you? Are you really destined to hear lullabies while tears stream down your face and someone hands you a bedpan to go "boom boom"? Are you GONNA FIGHT AND BE A MAN!? As tender and heart-breaking as it is... I am up to the task. You won't be alone in your fleeting state. I'll send flowers.

Nothing fancy,

Clearance rack from last week,

A little brown, but it's the thought that counts, right?

The Chaos hologram ages rapidly then turns to golden dust, evaporating out of the daydream into the golden shower. In its place one of Gabe Reno, standing on what looks like a turnbuckle, arms spread in victory with a glimmering belt in his hands; the rain appearing like confetti, gliding perfectly down.

Before the coronation... let's clear up a few things. I've heard this vicious rumor in back. About how I somehow put Father Slathe up to taking Jenny last Warfare from Chris Chaos. That is absurd. I didn't put him up to anything. I paid him. Coin. Dolla' bills. Hard cash from my money clip. Don't leave home without it. I know what you're going to ask... why?

Why would I pay a man to steal your other half?

Your precious pussycat.

The doll of XWF.

It's easy. Your mind was where... when this match was announced? On... getting her back. Right? SO MUCH so that you actually gave Slathe's client a SHOT AT THE TITLE! Big surprise there. Just another mistake in a long line of them by a Champion who leverages the belt to make a mockery of XWF. Yeah, you got her back... once I told him when and how I wanted it done. Ask him. Ask Mister Tidbits. They were both in on it.

And here you thought you'd been playing me...

This entire time?

Cute.

I did what I had to and used every tool at my disposal whether personal, professional, or financial... Chris. I did it all... for you. For us. See, after this match we still have unfinished business. I need you to lose the Title. Not for the self-righteous reason you think. But because it will narrow your focus, then, we take tag gold. I NEED YOU TO LOSE THEN GET UP! OUT OF YOUR ROCKING CHAIR! AND I BECOME DOUBLE CHAMPION! OOOOOww! And here you thought my plan ended at beating you at Lethal Lottery?! OHHHH, Nonononono, NO, NO, SIR! Not even close! I am the best Chris, you used to be. On one hand, that is a dire reality to admit you're on the downslide of your career. Wrestlers peak here and there, and not everyone enjoys more than one run at the top, or any runs at all... but on the other hand, the best now is your PARTNER! LUCKY YOU! What amazing odds that you just so happen to have wandered incoherently into! Great instincts, Chris!

Finally snapping out of his daydream trance, Gabe slaps his own cheeks, and again looks at the top of what appears to be the dome of Rungardo 1st of May Stadium, in the heart of Pyongyang, North Korea. He gets up off the bench and walks out into the golden sheets of rain. Reno stops for a second and looks back over his shoulder.

Shhhhh... it'll be okay...

Shushshushshushshushshush!

It'll be fine!

He pulls a shiny gold coin from his pocket and flips it toward the camera. It lands on the wet concrete perfectly on the side. The view shows side one reading "Chaos wins", and on the other side "Chaos Wins", a two sided duplicate coin.

Even chance won't pick you, Chris. There's no luck like bad luck. Looks like everything I touch will turn to gold at Lethal Lottery 4. But, I'll take great care of it for you. By not offering every chump that walks by a shot. By respecting the brand that has been built as XWF more than you ever have. By beating anyone who thinks they can just stroll on by and defeat me. By not allowing my valet and wife to be kidnapped by some weird-o. By giving the kids an example that doesn't flame out every time it is convenient. By being a dynamic... erratic... enigma... it is who I am, and who you could never be. Oh, and by doing what you never could... transcending what it means to wear that belt. For the greater good. For us all. Really. Universally.

Gold is coming home with Papa.

Now move out of the way...

BITCH.

He turns and walks off into the golden night.

☆

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I Am Great (LL #3)

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 09:47:36 -0700

A lot had been going through LJ Havok's mind as of late, but with the pills it was super hard for him to dwell on it most of the time. He knew deep down that he was more mentally ill than he previously thought, but for the sake of himself and his jobs he decided just to double up on the medication. However he soon realized that the medication didn't help any more with a higher dosage. In fact, he sat and thought real hard about it...

I have never even heard of this FUCKING medication....

Havok thought to himself as he pondered the possibility of the pill being a placebo. And the more he thought about that, the more he thought about other things. The more he thought about his trials and tribulations the first time he was a part of the XWF... and every other time thereafter.

The XWF camera crew caught up with LJ Havok backstage at Backwordz concert. Havok was standing at the back of the stage peering threw the curtain overflowing with enthusiasm. It was his release after all. Music. It always was his release, and it always would be.

Havok caught a glimpse of the familiar faces and turned around to greet them. He motioned for them to follow him to the band's dressing room, and they followed him hesitantly.

No, guys, it's cool. I'm their representative now. It's all in the paper work. Plus the dudes are cool. They won't care.

They go into the room, and Havok cuts on the light.

Alright motherfuckers, I'm about to drop some knowledge.

I'm a sick man... No really I am. And does anyone out there know why or how I became a sick man?

I blame the XWF for everything. My first stint saw me leave my band, treat my friends like shit, and even attempt to betray my friends within the company. And I became a lacky for some cousin fucker. It messed up my mind... I had one objective when I first arrived several years ago and that was change.. I won the right to face John Madison by winning a battle royal my very first night in the company. And from then on Paul Heyman saw something in me that no one else did. And I will never forget that.. But I let every opportunity be ripped out from under me.

Because I was weak. I didn't know who I was, but I am slowly seeing all of these pieces come together. And for once, I am excited for all that has yet to come. And "The Chosen One" will not let that happen again. I'm smarter, faster, and stronger than I ever was.

Robert Main fails to realize that I'm not the past. Listen, Bobbi, I was the future then, and I am a forerunner now! I could brag about my business acumen, and read off a list of every single one of my accomplishments since you seem to forget just who the hell I am. But I won't do that because everyone who matters has already welcomed me back into the fold. Just ask Paul Heyman if you really want to know. He's the only one that ever saw just what a talent I am. And that's why I was featured heavily on Madness for a little over a year. Yeah, I'm a Paul Heyman guy.. You can make all the jokes you want at the man, but he is a visionary of the wrestling business, and if it wasn't for his intelligence as a booker there would likely be no XWF as the fans enjoy today. And YOU would not exist... period.

Colton Kato sees the same thing in me. Why else would he offer me a lucrative deal for signing an exclusive contract with "Savage". It just doesn't seem to register with you does it, numb nuts? No it doesn't. And on April 1st, I am taking the Hart Championship, and the next televised episode XWF programming I will be on... that being "Savage" on the 8th. I will bring that championship out to the ring with me, put whatever poor sap I'm facing down, and then I will gloat. I will publicly state that I am better than you at everything I do.

Including taking massive shits, which is what your whole career will be seen as in comparison to mine. You're nifty little comparisons to the four horseman of the apocalypse are nothing to me. And none of the people you mentioned strike fear into me or the rest of the XWF as you seem to think it does.

I have only ever wrestled for one organization because that's all I've ever needed. The XWF is my home despite my feelings towards some of those in charge, I truly loved it here.. It just pains me to come back, and see people like YOU in high profile matches. I know damn well you can't draw.. The only thing I could possibly see you drawing is a little happy face on the autographs you will be signing at county fairs when I put you out of your fucking misery...

And I had every right to deny the kid an autograph.. Do you know how important I am? I would need heavy compensation for giving an autograph to a kid holding out a god damn picture of that hillbilly fuck... The reason I left. He shaved years off my fucking career. So of course I told the kid to piss off. The only reason you're offended is because you have already forgotten what having people not hate you feels like.

I have the tiny man complex...Sure. Compared to whom? Am I supposed to be hurt by that? Because I'm not, in fact, I'm proud to be in such a position that you don't even see me as a threat. I've been underestimated my whole life. What makes this time any different? A bunch of rhetorical.. I don't really care what you have to say.

Not that I'm overlooking, Mr. Tidbits at all...He's decidedly more crazy than I easily. I don't know what kind of magical bullshit you and Father Slathe are pushing, but I'm not buying it. And that kinky whipping bullshit... Jesus Christ. You guys would probably get some sort of major fandom on the darkside of the internet, but not the kind of fandom that "Chosen One" has. Not even just in the wrestling industry, where in my absence, I received calls from every major promotion, but in the music industry...and in politics. My father is one of the most powerful men in the world.... not just America or in phony bologna religious circles.
Mr. Tidbits. you seem to be slowly losing your mind more and more with every passing day. And I don't know why you don't just unleash the monster that everyone sees in you. Robbie Bourbon kicked your fucking ass. And guess what, buddy? He will probably do it again. The only difference is, I will be there to pick up the scraps. Your fear and disappointment leads to rage and destruction? It will actually lead you to nothing more than yet another loss. Anger clouds your judgement. You will be so worked up, seeing red, and sooo focused on Robbie Bourbon, that you will miss the very real and very tangible threat in front of you... ME!

I haven't forgotten about you, Robbie Bourbon, the new world has a seat in our future dining hall. We will dine like kings.. I haven't forgotten. But if you miraculously turn down food, then I will put you down as well... By hook or crook I will walk out with your championship, buddy. I'm interested to hear what you have to say.

LJ Havok picks up a bottle of water, and he drinks it down to about the halfway mark.

All of these bodies are just pawns in a larger game that I'm playing, and this is just the first step. And win or lose, everything will be made clear on "Savage" So set your fucking DVRs, look for livestreams, or what the fuck ever. You will NOT want to miss this. Changes are coming. It's a new world. It's a new age. The Age Of Havok!

XWF feed fades out, and those watching wonder what's to come next.

Divine

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 09:35:15 -0700

RP Location: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/c...rridor.jpg )

We see Drake, unhooded and with his t-shirt showing, walking down the hallway. He stops about halfway down and beckons the camera.

"Here"

The camera zooms in on Drake, he sighs, and starts to speak.

"I spent years in darkness, trying to find my way in the world. Until, one day, I was given a prophecy by, what you would call, gods. They told me that I was the one. The one they had chosen to bring Armageddon and suffering, to the world. I trained for years to hone my craft of death and destruction. Of using weapons and my own body to cause extreme amounts of pain.

He walks forward as the camera pans back.

"At Lethal Lotto, I will make myself a divine being of death, causing the deaths of those FOOLS who stand in my way. My name is Drake, and the apocalypse...has begun"

He walks away as the scene fades to black.

Manifest Destiny..

Fri, 31 Mar 2017 06:52:18 -0700

Manifest Destiny..

As the cold wind blows across the back of my neck, I can’t help but feel a certain amount of sadness that seems to be overtaking my will to move forward.

But, as always, I will press on.

3-31-2017 9:22 AM

As I cruise up and down interstate 79 in the ambulance they were so inclined to let me “borrow”, I can’t help but think back to all of the good times I’ve had here in the XWF. I’ve made a lot of friends, and I’ve made a lot of enemies. My best friend Michael Graves is continuing to do what he does best, and that’s conquer the challenges that are placed before him. Soon, he will be victorious over a man that, prior to our last engagement, I had little to no problem with. But, alas, that asshole decided to smash my hand with a hammer. Peter “I’m still a useless sack of shit” Gilmour, you my friend are going to find yourself at the long end of a short dick. Wait, nope. That’s not it. The short end of a long dick? That might be it. Either way, I’m fittin’ to fuck ya. And I don’t mean that in the sexual sense, baby. You’re not my type. But, what I do mean, is that your crimes against me, will not go unpunished. Just remember, after Graves lays you down for probably the 100th time in your lackluster career, I’m coming for you. And this time, I won’t be tied to a chair, kitten.

Jim Caedus. Jimmy, we’ve had our up’s and downs. But, Darren Zirado managed to convince me to join him in church that fateful Sunday morning, and I’m glad I did. You and I managed to put or differences aside, and since that moment we’ve done nothing but become the best of friends. And now yet again, it’s Cadryn v Caedus. Everytime I make a friend, the XWF makes it a point to force me to face them inside the ring. What gives, Vinny? Am I not allowed to have friends? Dis’ some bullshit. But, regardless, business is business. Now, I’ll admit, Jim, you beat me fair and square in our last match. All of the drama, all of the heated arguments, everything came to a head in that ring, and you my friend were victorious. I underestimated you, and though I gave it my everything, you still came out the victor that night. I respect you, probably more than anyone else in the XWF. You’ve overcome extensive odds to get to where you are, and for that I can do nothing but give you my respect. I’m not going to waste my time verbally bashing my friend. It’s uneccesary and let’s face it, he’s better at this than I am anyways. Nothing but love, Jimmy.

Trax. I honestly have no idea who you are, pal. I know of you, because you still manage to come up in my news feed every so often. But aside from all of that, I know nothing about you. I mean, to come as far as you have in Lethal Lottery, I assume you must have some sort of talent. Or, you were fortunate enough to be carried by your partners up until now. Doesn’t matter, honestly. Jim worries me, but even though I don’t know you, for some reason, I don’t feel inclined to fear you.

As you can probably tell, guys, I haven’t read a single one of your promo’s.

I can imagine they are filled with hate, derogatory comments, and homophobic slurs. Cause’, hey, it is the XWF, why not be an asshole 24/7?

But, it’s pointless for me to read them.

I honestly just don’t care what any of you have to say.

Oh, but before I go..

Burodolly.

You son of a bitch!

You couldn’t even let me in on the fact that I was getting changed in a locker room with a female?

Not to mention an underage female!

Are you trying to get me arrested? Is that your end game here, Dolly? Do you think if you get me arrested you can cruise through Lethal Lottery and emerge victorious?

Well, my dear, you’re correct.

But, you need not get me arrested.

You and Jimmy are better than I could ever hope to be. Which is fine, I never really planned on winning this to begin with.

Oh, by the way, to all of you who didn’t make it to the final match of Lethal Lottery..

You’re scrubs.

I LOST my first match in the first round of Lethal Lottery to Jim and Robbie. Thus, forcing me out of the tournament and ending my run.

I was fine with that, Jim and Robbie deserved to move forward, and I understood that better than anyone.

But then, I get a call from management that they want me to take Reno’s spot, to team with Scully.

So let that be a lesson to the rest of you.

I’m so goddamn good at this, that I can lose and still win all at the same time.

How many wildcard entries have ever made it this far in Lethal Lottery?

Me.

That’s it. There is no one else. Good game, fuck off, get wrecked, scrubs.

But, I digress.

Anyways, I’d just like to say best of luck to my opponents.

This may be short and sweet, but I feel it’s going to make a bigger impact than any of you idiots ever anticipated.

Love you all.

- Cadryn

Fuck the Odds OR Pimpslapping Superhoes

Thu, 30 Mar 2017 23:58:49 -0700

(continued from "Purpose and Perseverance")

-April 1 2011-

Two and a quarter ounces of appetite stimulating, ache soothing medical grade marijuana with proof of grow in pictures, two bottles of Sativex and a stack of researched and printed info and evidence are what I deliver to my mother and her siblings by the time the third week of the harvested weed cure ends and just like that...I've beaten cancer FOR her.

For the first time in 5 months, as I climb back into Holly's white '85 Dodge Aries, I feel the ecstatic energy of one who's effectively denied the undeniable. I feel the weight of worry and doubt dissipate. I feel...confident...happy.

I sleep easier than I have in over a year. I smile. I laugh. I joke. I look forward to the day my mom thanks me for saving her. I can imagine my father forgiving me my failure to come to his aid, to preserve his life, by preserving that of his wife and mother of his child.

I'm a hero. Conqueror of cancer. HA!! Cancer ain't SHIT!!

Unbeknownst to me, the moment Holly and I drive away my Uncle Glen flushes the weed and Sativex down the toilet while my Aunt Peggy tosses a stack of truth in the trash.

Of course. Leave it to the schemes and backstabbery of others to rob a true hero and champion of all he's been working so hard to attain.

TBC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Fuck the Odds"

OR

"Pimpslapping Superhoes"

-Thursday March 30 2017 11:00 PM Local-

-Juche Tower, Pyongyang, DPRK-

The elevator chimes, signaling an end to the ride and my recollection.

I step forth and make my way to the viewing platform, taking in the stars above and the night lights of Pyongyang below. It's breathtaking.

I spy the arena in which about 48 hours or so from now I'll be entering into the final match of the Lethal Lottery tournament. It crosses my mind that like my own family, that plotting Pikeville pissant Dolly and her powerful backup may very well have less than honorable intentions for the outcome of the match. Rumors of a Triple Threat, Trax acting less and less a tag partner than opponent, Cadryn finally popping his head outta Gravy's bunghole...not only have I never competed in a match of this magnitude in the XWF with so much on the line but there are so many variables to prepare for now all I can do is my best to cover all bases and hope that everything turns out on the up and up. And if not...fuck it, I'll be beating the souls outta anyone that ain't a tag partner at the time. I'm Jim Caedus and I never back down from a challenge no matter HOW dismal or dirty it appears to be.

I prepare my phone for promo......

....................................

"Weeeeeeell, howdy Cady-cat! Just like I predicted, I KNEW you couldn't stay away and you'd slither in at the last minute. Thank you for that, we can all chalk it up under the 'Jim Caedus is a helluva lot more astute, accurate and credible than every single opponent he had/has claims to the contrary' column and of course, suck on my fat dick Dolly and Trax you both look even LESS believable now than I've already shown you both to be. Go ahead now Cady, you may proceed with what you think is gonna be enough to ensure victory for you and Dolly and not simply another tranny's tirade I'll tear apart like everything else you've ever shot my way. Big . Glad you're back.

Trax, Big T...as far as you go I'll begin with that Triple Threat rumor that obviously left you reeling. It's no secret you meant ME as that inaccurate description of a 'coke sniffin' little birdie' who clued you in so don't act like you dropped a bomb on my ass with that. Furthermore, you say it was me who told you, basically blaming me for your hasty words, right before you admit that we BOTH got the memo from Boss Lane himself. Good show, shithead. You continue by condemning my take on it all when all I've done is smack your teeth, grill still firmly attached, right outta your mouth for goin' on record that this is a Triple Threat without ANY official announcement from the boss to vindicate you. I hate to agree with Dolly but she said the same and, like me, has had the foresight to include the possibility in promo while continuing to cover bases if this does in fact remain a tag match. Now with Cadryn's bitchass finally showin' up sayin' he ain't out of it...even if he's penalized and removed from the match anyway, it seems his partner and yours were correct in their caution. Bro, did I not ask you if you'd thought to discuss with the boss further before assuming? I mean, I'm not gonna lie, like I keep proving to everyone, I'm about honesty...yes it was me who also spoke to you about it but it was YOU who said what you said. I'm sure your proclivity towards a hasty, hazardous and vexed approach will come in handy if any of the possible outcomes for this match lead to you and I knuckling up 'cause I'll knock you for a fuckin' loop with fists like I do with words.

Wait wait wait...I'm a fat Unworthy Thor now? Fat? Trax...seriously...stop fuckin' trying. No one 'blew a gasket' over your bullshit, what I did was tell you that your 'tin foil hat' theft and usage is about as weak an insult as an insult can get when compared to the shit I've been flingin'. Do I think 'Black Superman' is original by itself? No, that's why I said 'Black Superman/Dark Kent', the latter of which you failed to mention like 'thinking do rag' because you know they're both clever as fuck. Criptonian. You got a problem with sound alike spoken words? My bad, I figured since your dumbass fails to LISTEN and LEARN you might have been using subtitles, trying to keep up by reading what you fail to hear. You know...whatever it takes to understand all the big words you say only a thesaurus could teach me.. I know, I know...Trax READING is about as ridiculous an idea as Trax COMPREHENDING, Trax DELIVERING, Trax DOMINATING. By Elohim's elephantine nutsac, ain't no one sayin' Trax has Caedus's number, they're saying Caedus makes taking Trax to the mat look like a walk in the park. You'll be a lot more difficult in the ring to take down if it comes to that but it still won't stop me from fuckin' you up.

Keep returning to the respect I show others backstage as if it's some sorta chink in my armor you can exploit. I already told you, being the third person to say what Bourbon did and got booted out anyway will serve you up the same kinda success. Talk about how excited I was to be working with you despite the fact you literally said the exact same thing to me in the same convo you're pulling from. Twist shit to mean you were lying to my face disregarding how big of a bitch that makes you for not having the balls to speak the truth to someone you say you can defeat, pussy. Coward ass coon. Too spineless to _not_ mutually kiss my ass, too yellow bellied to not be you until you NEED AMMO. Get that, ladies and gents, _I_ scare the big black superhero with all his powers to the point that he can't find the courage to be himself! Or is the truth really that Trax has been behind-the-scenes AND in promo exchanging lips on asses with me while he still thought for sure it was a tag match? Is the apt addendum to that story that Trax is still pushing that shit even though I already shot it down because he has no real way of advancing on me and needs what he thinks is the strongest sounding swing to look like he's still putting up a legitimate fight? Yes. Yes it is. Oh Traxxy...I just...I just don't know if I have it in me, the skill and the strength to...stop myself from blading not my forehead but your belly wide open, yanking out your intact intestinal tract with anus attached, squeezing all the farts you accumulate for promo ammo out and up those massive black boy nostrils of yours, blowing that balloon head up and asking you how it feels to have an asshole blasting gas in your face before your dome explodes like that gook weather villain in Big Trouble In Little China. This just in: African American XWF superstar Trax the victim of violent and vicious gangland style run-on shooting. Sources say the wrestler raised his arms and loudly exclaimed, 'My forcefield is up!' before being riddled with hollow points and dropping like the mortal man he really is. Investigators are looking to blame unprotected chair shots and hard hitting to the head maneuvers to explain the level of insanity displayed by the deceased."

'Jenga. Keep goin' though.'

"You call my girlfriend a whore and ugly and all that jigaboo jazz? Trax! Do you kiss your mother with that same mouth you use to insult her with over her bein' my piece of comatose cooze? Shame on you, I'm tellin' 'er what mammy's little who's-the-father said when she wakes up right before I stab 'er to death and continue fuckin' 'er so's to rob you of your now predictable talkin' shit on MY mom. Up yours and lotsa luck soundin' original, asshole.

You say I 'can't hang with the real big league players' because as the TV champ I've been retaining over names like Gravy and Gilly and NOW I'm set to enter battle with serious competition. First, I never retained against either Micheal or Peter, in fact, I've never even been in a match with 'em. Didn't we already have a chat about you paying attention? Secondly, if you don't think Robbie Bourbon or Scully define big names with the bragging rights of one and the undeniable skill and Hart Title of another it's no wonder you walk around squawkin' like you got so much game when you have nothing currently to show for it. If anything Trax you're on the same level as those two and that's just plain as goddamn day. Thirdly, if I can't hang with the big dogs why is it you and Dolly keep having to answer to each and every homerun I smack outta the park pinning you with the truth and trash talk that somehow leaves even a crunchy fried super black bitch like you blushing for all to see? Fuckin' kidding me, moron? Fourth...ly...I've been retaining that TV title in between Warfares, Anarchy, the Federweight Hall and fighting my way to the finals of this very tournament, carrying your ass last round even, the whole time. Fuck have you ever done around here so hectic on that level of determination and drive, dumbass? I'm positive you've NEVER known that brand of work ethic in the XWF asshole, so I guess that makes me a real big league player if YOU are, DOESN'T IT, DICK?

Oh, you're gonna go the route now calling attention to that Scully/Buronan buttfuckery at the conclusion of our match conveniently leaving out the part where I took both Bob and Scull' on by myself while you stayed fresh and STILL got knocked on your ass into a-no-help-whatsoever position? You and Rob decided you'd stop putting in the effort and let someone else carry your weight did you? Must be why his fat ass is outta the tourney and your ashy ass is gearin' up for the same defeat. Oh...uh...buddy...did you not notice in the exact same promo you said to Dolly a win is a win without asterisk in context then try using the flipside of what happened, contradicting your words, against me? Do you prepare for a fuck-up like that or do I assume correctly that it just all comes naturally to an idiot of your caliber? You can't have your watermelon and eat it too, tough guy, pick a lane and stick with it, idiot. You're showing so many fuckin' flaws Trax I'm praying I don't hafta rely on your useless ass one more 'gain and hoping I just get to offload you as a partner and knock those braids off your big ass baboon noggin' with a Purgatory Punch but I'll tell you what...if we DO remain partners, let's go ahead and take our aggression out on the boy-girl and the girl-boy before we drag all of Pyongyang and the 1st of May arena into our nuclear warfare.

Wait, what was that?

'the Trax you're going to be stepping into the ring with at Lethal Lottery is unlike a Trax anyone has ever came across'.

Boys and girls, Trax's spot-on impersonation of Micheal Graves. Give 'im a big hand folks...right across his big fat lips and tell 'im to can it.

Onto Dolly with her new premise of fire and how it pertains to the loss of my wife and daughter. S'good one there, so very relevant to my past. You put all that together yourself there, genius, or did it take your whole buttfucker brigade to brainstorm after, what, seven promos? Woulda helped if you'd exploited the extensive and expensive resources of your lil' kike klan and dug a little deeper up my musky manhole to discover fire has more or less been my bitch since I was fuckin' 7 years old; so much so, in fact, that I've never been convicted of criminal combustion no matter what role I may or may not have had in any situation pertaining to. True, those closest to me were torn from my life in its fury however, I myself remain untouched and unbeaten by it. Furthermore, it was fire that gave birth to Caedus, you cowboy-cum-coated-country-cunt, an element so firmly under my ownership that whatever embers burning within you pale in comparison to the 5 alarm flames fuelin' this fuckin' devilish d-bag. In the ring, amidst the presence of my incandescence, you'll find yourself smothered, slut. Scratch your furry nutsac and come at me with another premise that has 'nothing to do' with my style or background you spice-stealin'-southern-sandbaggin'-sumbitch."

'She keeps challenging that, so slap 'er with some solid facts.'

"I believe it's late enough in the game those that know both my style and your past work have seen for themselves how you took your already existent talent for trash talk and sampled my specialities but for those unaware, let's expose, shall we?"

I quote.

"'This isn't a fucking "game" like you said. This is real life. I am Dolly Waters'.

Golly gee, Dolly-dumbfuck, why that's...that's MY drink order, isn't it? You know how many times I've said those exact words with the name switch-up? How obscure is it to anyone at this point that you're trying to steal my thunder? Just for RECENT precedent I literally took that stance with YOU as my partner against Hero, NOC and Crowe. That's what I'm talkin' about not only with the sissy samplin' mind games but the idea that you think if you claim it and say it first in current warfare it's suddenly the truth. Shall we continue, cocksucker?

'Wasting your time while whining like a hand-out craving mope-hung-from-a-rope trans-man stating that I was making "baseless assertions" while at the same time going back through, doubling that dick of dumbassry down your second shit hole'.

That sound like Caedus to anyone else or are we all asinine assholes aligning with the pathetic-preteen-pussy-propaganda? Jack Nicholson/Christian Slater like a motherfucker or, more aptly suited to you, Doll', like BH 90210 Luke Perry adopting the whole James Dean 'cool', ain't that right _DYLAN_? Fuckin' dickhead. Let's just take a listen to an example of Dolly's pre-Jimbo skill.

'the manner of which is something similar of a young Down syndrome child chasing after a kite as it slips through his slobber greased fingers.'

I'd say there's a definitive difference there what with the lack of lacerating linguistic layout and pseudo-alliteration pertaining to past and present promo style. Even worse, oh my word, it's like you completely rip off your own archived ass-hattery with that gem in your latest promo...

'...something to REALLY hang your down-syndrome helmets on', 'sweaty handed boy struggling to hold on to his fleeting kite string'.

Christ...of kites and cranial critiques it seems you recycle the fuck outta your own specific semantic slobberknockers AND borrow heavily from the harangue of this hated hick-killin' king. The truth is, Dolly, for the umpteenth time, twats like you sack, steal and sample from those you find greater than yourselves, those you knows shine brighter than even a beacon of brilliance like you, and you do it while deluding your dipshit dome into thinking the master of mouth mayhem won't notice, smack ya, snap your bra strap, spank ya and send you home to absorb the abilities, stylings and stories of someone you stand a chance at successfully plagiarizing. It still won't gain you anything against me, mind you, you're one of the greatest among the gladiators in the XWF but nothing can change the unfortunate fact that you REMAIN in MY shadow like Cady and Gravy, forever frantically lookin' to fuck me, bite me and wriggle your ways outta the chains I've locked 'round your little necks. You don't own SHIT here but the title 'Second Best', bitch. Own THAT and stop tryin' to talk like you haven't been playing catch-up since Dollygagging, girl. You're so goddamn good at what you do but to raise to MY level you've been grasping at every straw you can find, fuck-o, from identity schemes, to setups, to theft, to edits, to lies, to gang mentalities stacking the deck with star support. Why? Because you, Dolly Waters, simply are not GOOD ENOUGH on your own steam, skill and merit to take ME on. You're fucking pathetic. Period.

You come at me cutting me down for 'copying' what you said about driving this debate? Did I do that OR did I tell the truth AND show you how it feels to hear your words rehashed by another AS WELL AS give the fans an excellent example with side by side comparison provided by you, thank you for saving me the work by the way, of how you flavorlessly fight and flounder while I spit spectacular smashmouth salvos in similar situations? Suck my dick, Dollywog, I netted, nailed and knocked you on your flat ass again. You're good at not staying down but so am I, especially when you slapfight like a and I haymaker your hooker ass over and over again. I think that when physicality is involved, you know...when we meet in the squared-circle, you'll find it'll take a bit more to stand back up after the devastating dustup I'll deliver.

Somewhat like how I'll now be piefacing your latest lame attempt to divert attention from lying about your non-existent support by deflecting with Boss Lane and his role against you, simultaneously slamming me for Jong-un's personally insisted involvement in my shit like a fan flappin' through Fantasyland has any relation whatsoever to wrestlers and brass of the XWF and their support of Dolly Waters. You slimy slag, the fuck you think would happen if _I_ ran out during the round 3 semifinals physically involving myself in a match appearing to cost two dollar-drawing-dildos their advancement leading into an all important cash-cow pay per view dealing with something as powerful pertaining to championship straps like the 24/7 briefcase? You think maybe Lane would've had a pink slip pounded up my pooper since I swerved the talent, the card and HE HIMSELF or would I find myself not only NOT reamed but REWARDED with my continued inclusion in the tourney AND rumor of an 'evened odds' scenario saving my trouble makin' ass with the elimination of my useless tag partner? Yeah it sure looks like you're bein' victimized when the people trying so hard to keep you in prison and off the active roster allow you to waltz on by after actions falling under indefensible legal reasons for textbook talent termination. You're so right you little snot-nosed numbskull, ain't nothin' around here smellin' of spoiled fish, you're comin' up roses! And now you've secured the most difficult 24/7 title to snatch in the XTreme strap, a belt most recently defended for days on end by an ever vigilant Ghost Tank, sought after by one of your bffs in Thad and with extremely little resistance from all involved excusing valiant attempts by Cadryn and the unrelated Witch Doctor. Not only that, you offer that title up on a platter so assured of victory in our Lethal Lottery 4 future fisticuffs while I maintain draining the blood from your swollen ego with each passing promo I upload. I smell somethin' stinking of a setup and guess what? I don't care. I'll be smashing my way through walls, blockades and barriers as I've been doing for months now anyway, I'm not afraid of ANY level or power of obstruction. And if I fail...well...ain't no shame in a shafting by an army of Dolly and her admirers...just makes me look too motherfuckin' much to handle fairly by even The Faux Phenom herself.

The Faux Phenom Dolly Waters continuing to cast aspersions my way in context with the content of my conversation while gettin' caught cookin' with my recipes and recycling her own words.

The False Front labeling my lambasting and illuminating of her limp lies as 'whining', 'stupidity' and 'paranoia' because her punkass can't handle the hot seat and can only flip the bird in response trying desperately to drown out the truth with dumbass denial, excuses, accusations and curse words.

The Fake Fuck flacidly flailing and firin' at me, in a long lecture of a promo pretty much EXCLUSIVELY a love letter for MOI no less, about her being my majority target while being the _only vocal_ one of two tag partners booked as my tag team's opponents like her redundant remarks hold any water at all in the sieve of her strategy. Lyin'-ass leaky loser.

The Fugazi Female Fuck-up with such awe-inspiring insults of the early complimentary cordiality between Trax and I like people can't simply review her Buronan promos suckin' the sac of Trax, Caedus and Cadryn in succession or even easier, pour over her peppering of pole-ridin' this dick in this final round itself. We've all had words of mutual respect for one another. Keep on lookin' for somethin' 'stinging' that'll stick you fuckin' imbecile.

The weirdly masculine lil' miss talkin' shit on sob stories with all her hillbilly hootnanny goo-goo-ga-ga garbage crying about her parents, past, being spat on, being underestimated, criticized on her age and gender and being 'incarcerated', motherfuckin' mile-a-minute double-standard-dealin' dyke.

The FRAUDULANT femme fatale STILL stating she's been moderating after so much effort explaining and excusing all the blatant dishonesty and foul ups since I first finger-fucked her hypocritical hole. The very same whore rolling the dice on the intelligence level of the XWF NOW in challenging the existence of the all-too-obvious amount of not-secret-enough-to-fool-Caedus support and unjustified leeway. Keep it going, Dolly, you're in too deep to turn back from your bullshit now.

The egomaniacal same slippery simpleton who thought my threats of fingerbreaking levied at Trax were aimed at her then pops off from the puss thinking threats from HER breaking my NECK have me pissin' in my Red Wings...once again adopting an assault type I'm fuckin' FAMOUS FOR around here with the violent verbosity. Dolly, you've allowed the façade of who you are to propel into pathos you honestly don't want anything to do with where I'm concerned. Fuck your threats of what you'll do in the ring, I guarantee you won't be breaking anything but a sweat tryin' to take the opposition down. You've surrounded yourself with big names, tall tales and rhino-sized rip-offs for protection against me just like you enjoy the safety that refs, regs and rules provide you in the ring against men who could all kill you backstage if they felt like succumbing to the siren song of slaughter. You'll break my neck? Bitch, all I hafta do is toss inhibitions of forfeited freedom out the window, catch you in public, twist your top around with the torque needed to snap the neck of a child and that ain't a tall order by any means. Howboudat? Of course, I'd much rather treat you to the torturous trauma of say, tying you down, spreading your legs, carving out your pussy with an ice cream scoop and making you munch your own muff while you bleed out but that'd take studious planning and plotting and I'd rather just do something like accidentally stiff you in the ring with Katabasis and hand you over to the EMTs for exterior heart massage before they decide to call you a corpse. You better take a step back and watch yourself, you don't want none of this all-too-legitimate psychopath showin' you just how many ways he can skin a skank. Strike that, keep 'em comin'. With every failed attempt of yours you make it more and more apparent just who the fuck the true terminal threat here is, idiot, and I'll be exploiting every trip and stumble you make in the ring as well, you can guarantee it. You better hope for your sake your crew shows up or the 'odds are evened' bitch because you obviously can't handle me on your own. You snub the airplay restrictions on Savage and say the real proving ground is elsewhere? I say even though I've uploaded less promos than you I've been killing you, just like NOC, every time and if you had to cut it down to 3 on Savage I'd ABSOLUTELY royally whip your ass. Regardless of any more fibs I'm sure you have, you lost the TV title in less than a month under the stress of Savage, pussy. I've been holding onto that same title for THREE months while kicking ass on every fucking card in the meantime so who the FUCK do you think you're foolin'?

Asses thoroughly waxed with words, three superhos now stand at the threshold of Lethal Lottery 4 worried that my skill in smack talk might translate all too well to my in-ring capabilities and crush their expectations of victory. They're right...and I have the last three months under my belt here to back it up. Fuck the coward in Cadryn, the trash in Trax and the fire inside YOU Dolly. I'm Jim Caedus and I'll be spreadin' your jaws, crammin' this cock down your craw and pissin' that fire out from the inside."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Just Like Fire

Thu, 30 Mar 2017 12:58:25 -0700

Saturday, October 1st, 2016
Backstage at the Amway Center Directly Following Saturday Savage
...Orlando, Florida, U.S.A...

We are brought back into another colorless dreamy visual backstage at the Amway Center. There's a deafening reverb of aimless murmuring bellowing from outside Dolly Waters' locker room as a slew of sports reporters and news media outlets surround the new Television Champion's door. The door swings open and there's an instantaneous roar of camera lenses cracking as their countless flashes almost turn our screens white, and emerging into the picture between the blinding camera snaps is Paul Heyman; snobbish and sweaty, with a bandage wrapped around his head and Dolly's newly won Television Championship on his shoulder.

"Paul!"

"Paul Heyman!"

"Paul!"

"Mr. Heyman!"

Heyman widens his eyes to a young female reporter standing in the front of the crowd, thus signaling that he'll answer her question first.

"Mr. Heyman, you have just managed a twelve year old girl to being the youngest champion in XWF history. An absolutely unprecedented feat. Did you have any concerns for her safety going into this match?"

Heyman gives a sneering look to the reporter while jerking his head back,

"Concerns? Did I look concerned to any of you as Dolly Waters and I made our way to the ring tonight? The only safety I was concerned for was the safety of the five unfortunate souls who just so happened to get added to this match with my client. I spent all week telling you people exactly what my client is capable of; she's the beast, and without a doubt now, the greatest performer on this entire roster. This?"

He says while smugly slapping the Television Title on his shoulder,

"This is only the beginning of what will be my client's endless reign of destruction..."

Paul's words become nearly imperceptible as we're taken into the locker room and see a worn out, yet delighted Dolly Waters resting on the bench with an ice pack on her shoulder still wearing her ring gear. She leans up and looks out the door, watching Heyman grow more and more animated as he speaks to the reporters, rocking back and fourth and twerking his neck around as his condescending cadence becomes a bit clearer:

"Am I irresponsible? Well. That's a pretty dumb question. Did Dolly Waters lose her ass out there? No. My client and I formulated a flawless strategy that she was able to execute to perfection, a strategy that I never doubted for a second because again, my client is a destroyer, a vicious animal who is not only adept physically, but is also cerebral and cunning."

"Mr. Heyman, winning a multiple person match where Dolly was able to avoid a lot of damage is one thing; but it's already been announced that she'll be facing Hunter Payne in her first title defense next week on Savage. How do you think Dolly is actually going to fair while facing a grown man one on one?"

A reporter asks,

"Hunter-"

"Hunter Payne ain't gotta' snowball's chance in hell in taking this away!"

Dolly interjects after quietly appearing in the doorway and slapping the Television Title on Heyman's shoulder, causing Paul to jump a bit. The cameras start cracking again as Dolly continues on with her charming southern accent:

"I'll make it clear, right here, right now; y'all better get used to huddling around my locker room week after week. Because as long as Heyman is leading me out to the ring to do what I do best- break barriers and break jaws- I'll be at the top of every sporting headline in America."

"Dolly!"

"Dolly Waters!"

"Dolly!"

"Miss Waters!"

Dolly points to a male reporter toward the back of the crowd:

"Thank you, Dolly. Just wanted to ask real quick, what were your feelings tonight before you stepped out of that curtain, knowing that the entire world was going to be watching? Were you nervous at all?"

Dolly doesn't hesitate with the question at all,

"Nervous? Absolutely not. As Paul stated before, we had a game plan going in, a game plan that wasn't questioned at all..."

Dolly smiles and looks up at Heyman, remembering just how frantic and lacking in confidence her manager was before the match wanting to change the duo's entire strategy. She removes the title from Paul's shoulder and holds it up in the air.

"And as long as I've got this, the entire world is going to be watching Dolly Waters every week! So y'all go on and pen up yer' little articles for whatever buried sports page in whatever irrelevant newspaper you write for about how Dolly Waters is in over her head and will be sure to lose next week to Hunter Payne. That type of stuff only drives me to be better, and yer' all gunna' see it again, first hand again, next week when I run that relic Hunter Payne out of the business fer' good!"

"Now if you'll excuse us..."

Paul grabs Dolly's arm and starts pushing through the crowd.

"We've got a flight to catch."

The two begin making their way down the hallway, the action behind them with the reporters has slowed but Dolly and Paul continue to move on at a regular pace. Heyman looks down at the TV Title, and then at Dolly,

"Heavy, isn't it? You want me to carry it for you?"

"Nah..."

She smiles,

"...The more weight on my shoulders the better."

Paul puts his hands in his pockets as he continues to walks, looking down at the floor,

"Hey, Paul?"

Paul lifts his head up and raises his eyebrows over at Dolly,

"Told ya' I had yer' back. And I told you that we were gunna' win."

"And I told you that if we did pull it off that I'd have your back forever. And so now I do... and Dolly?"

Dolly leans into Paul as he whispers in her ear,

"You're going to be untouchable."

"Bring some smelling salts into the ring. I've knocked her out... again."

Monday, February 6th, 2017
The Illuminatus Compound Training Facility
...Somewhere in Coastal Connecticut, U.S.A...

Dolly lays flat on her back in the middle of Duke's ring after having ate one of his patent superkicks directly on her chin. She gasps and hacks, coming to as one of Duke's men places the package of smelling salts under her nose. Dolly looks beaten, ragged and bruised, while on the other side of the ring, Thaddeus Duke doesn't appear to have broken even a mere sweat.

Dolly scoots back on her rear a bit over to the ropes and pulls herself up on a pair of extremely uncomfortable looking stilts as she struggles to regain her footing.

"Dolly, why don't you just take those damn things off?"

Duke demands while leaning back into the turnbuckle on the opposite side of the ring,

"I done told you, damnit! If I'm going to pull this off it's gotta b-"

Dolly turns and spits a bit of blood out onto the mat,

"It's gotta' be believable! If I go in there at my same exact height, moving the same way I always do, people are gunna' catch on pretty quick."

"I'm not really sure what difference that's going to make once someone catches you in the face with a boot because you're not nimble enough to dodge it- the training you've been doing with that woman has been paying off, you're weight is getting better, your speed and strength, but it's all going to be for naught if you continue to parade around on those stilts.

I need you to be a challenging sparring partner just as bad as you need me right now. Maybe I've made a mistake though because nothing you're doing is challenging me. I believe it's time to call this entire thing off, Dolly. It doesn't appear that you have what it takes anymore."

Dolly snarls her lip and charges toward Duke, moving a bit quicker on the stilts then what she's been normally doing. She takes a wild swing with a right arm clothesline as Duke moves toward to the middle of the ring motioning for Dolly to come at him with his hands. Thad easily ducks under the clothesline and grabs Dolly's arm, flipping her over onto her butt with an arm drag and sends a stiff elbow down onto her collar bone before working in a tight headlock.

"What's happened to you, Dolly? Have you finally succumbed to the weaknesses you've garnered while associating yourself with that questionable cast of characters?"

"Fuck you!"

She spits out while trying to squirm her way out of the headlock,

"Now there's some aggression. But really? What gives?"

Duke locks the hold in tighter,

"Have you really let a dumb drunken clown like your father smolder out your flame? Your passion? Does it kill your spirit knowing that not any of the father figures you've relied on in your life bothered to help you out while you were in prison? I bet you were ready to give up on everything in there, weren't you? I thought you are fire, just like your old theme music suggests. Has life finally just dumped too much water down on poor little Miss Waters for the winds of destiny to reignite you?"

Dolly's face is turning pink as she screams out with a gasp and a scowling roar of pain and frustration. She starts back peddling her legs, reaching her arms up and wrapping them around the back of Duke's head. Using her legs, she finally get's elevated just enough away from the mat and then pulls all of her body weight down, forcing Duke's chin to smack into the top of her head, breaking his hold.

Thad stands and stumbles backwards holding his chin, and as soon as he can think to open his eyes Dolly is already running full steam toward his frame. He does to grapple her but dolly is already sliding between his legs and just as he turns around to attack her she sends a knee right into his groin, dropping him to his knees as he struggles to breathe. Dolly wastes no time and hits the ropes, flying back into Thad's face with her trademark running knee strike that lays the young Prince out cold.

Dolly catches her breath and smiles as Thad's men rush to his assistance.

"Thanks for the words of encouragement, Thad. I needed that."

Encouragement meaning the hard truth that Duke had read outloud like book. Dolly had all but given up while in prison, and the sinking feeling that she had in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that no one cared whether she lived or died had damn near done her in- but she knew now that she had a chance to change all of that, she could learn from her former shortcomings and adapt just like she had all of her life.

Winning Lethal Lottery Four? That was only the first step. Winning the game of life, that was the ultimate goal. Reigniting and being the fire that burns down the world's of every person who had ever wronged her or anyone who stood in her way? That would soon be the filler. She could feel that yearning from her bones again, that rage, that call to glory... it was a flame that she would never allow anyone to extinguish ever again.

Just like fire...

No matter how many times you try and put me out I always return, growing more fierce and uncontrollable as I rage with the changing winds that have given life to my slumbering spirit. A great military commander once said: "The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire..." and that's exactly what you're dealing with right now, an eternal raging flame resurrected by true desire, true determination, and a never ending conquest to bend the will of the world to my own will.

Trax and Jim Caedus have bitten off more than they can chew, and that's growing more and more apparent. While they were sleeping, while Jim Caedus was complaining about how many promos I've cut, while Trax was busy penning up dollar store comic books, I saw an opportunity to add to my success, and I did it- just like a fire burning through this entire industry I shifted like the persevering element that I am and gobbled up more territory; adding the second most prestigious and important belt in this business to the growing list of my accomplishments, while simultaneously making our match at Lethal Lottery even juicer.

You're welcome fellas.

Because now, if one of you pitiful patrons in the latest edition of Dolly's Playhouse are lucky enough to pin me at Lethal Lottery not only will you win the coveted case, but the Unified X-Treme Championship as well- now wouldn't that be something to REALLY hang your down-syndrome helmets on? Would be, but it won't, because no matter how much you two fools have barked and moaned and danced like a pair of star dazed dingle-berries to the rhythm of my beat I'm telling you right now, there's not a god in heaven or a demon in hell that will be able to save you two from seeing Dolly Waters' arm raised when that bell rings.

Jim Caedus is a fucking idiot.

It was on full display during his latest shit show.

I'm not sure what's the more challenging concepts of Jim's for me to grasp really:

That Jim somehow believes that his "taking his time" to blabber out the same eccentric excrement that he piles up in every promo between an overly crafted and pomp assortment of sting-free zingers and cliches is some how giving him an edge over me in our match?

Or that I'm supposed to give a fuck that some drab piece of shit is thirty-seven and homeless?

They're both interesting ideas, and both beg me to wonder if I'm shitting unicorn dust or something. But let's begin with the former, because Jim, being the dizzy-eyed paranoid skitzo that he is- believes that this point of his eye-drying attacks against me are of the utmost importance.

Jim, you can stammer around on your cellphone camera all day yammering about this and that with a mixture of 'har-har-har' second rate Ivy League insults til' the cows come home, but at the end of the day anything you say really holds no relevance to what's going to happen to that pretty blonde little head of yours once we step inside of that ring. You've gone on and on crying...

...and by the way, I just want to point out one more time just how big of a cry baby bitch you really are, Jim. For a hardened homeless deadbeat you sure do whine it up like a wine-o ho-bag bouncing vineyard to vineyard reeking of musty cunt and scented Kleenex crumbs.

But you've bitched and moaned about how I've tried copying your style- yet when I've contradicted your bogus claims you've done nothing to try and support them, only repeating said asinine allegations. But now for the second promo in a row you've claimed that your promo style was be copying while then directly copying something that Dolly Waters said:

The first time was you bringing up the whole 'Dollwee iz copying my style' cry for help after I had already been destroying Trax for copying the promo strategies for a gay rapist midget.

This last time was you copying all but verbatim what I said in my 'Fifteen Day Fix' promo- remember, Jim?

I said: "it's been Dolly Waters who's driven the course of this entire argument between the three of us..."

Then I guess it must of dawned on you after fawning over my work like you've been doing this entire time that I was actually making a good point so then you up and said what?

"you let the guy you call crazy control the course of this conversational contest."

Well Jim, you are indeed crazy, but you haven't controlled shit aside from being the best at deep throating Trax's shaft early on. Because not only is what you said totally irrational and unfounded, it totally contradicts your menstruating-esque minuscule claims that ANYONE would want to try and imitate that podunk edgy version of Peabody and Sherman you and your second, green-cocked personality, consider a promo. So please get the fuck outta' here with that shit man- we both know it's been Dolly Waters dictating the flow of arguments, fuck I'm the total topic of discussion for you and Trax, meanwhile all you've been doing is running around with Kim Jong Un and bitching about famous people making appearances in my vignettes. You baby-dicked bitch.

How fucking are you man? Everything you've said has been one utter failure of not contradicting yourself, again pointing out your glaring mental instability, still lending credence to the facts that you've given birth to that I brought up in 'First Take'- and this is exactly why I own you, Jim. You haven't had the faintest idea from which direction Dolly was hammering your head since the onset of my verbal onslaught, grasping for any piece of substance to hold onto like a sweaty handed boy struggling to hold on to his fleeting kite string. I'm the beautiful grasp-worthy kite climbing to new heights and you and Trax are just two little easily triggered tards on the playground jockeying over which one of you's gets the next turn to try and tug on my string.

Saying I've been playing politics with Lane? Goddamnit man! You got me, Alex Jones! Vincent totally loves Dolly Waters and that's why he worked so hard to get me out of prison right? That's why he fought so tirelessly to discredit the doping allegations brought against me, right? That's why he said whatever offhanded remark about me in the HMW Hallway months ago that you quoted to try and discredit my standing with the company as if that bullshit mattered. Jim, you're bonkers bitch. Still running around like Jesse Ventura trying to uncover the secret Dooms-Day hideaways under the Denver Airport- maybe that'll be a safe space for you to retire to once Dolly beats your broke ass down at Lethal Lottery.

You wanna' break my fingers motherfucker? Well I'm going to break your goddamn neck with a Running Waters so hard the whiplash will trigger your shared-mentality soul mate Kim to launch the nukes and start World War three. How bow dah? Threats like that only excite me queer, it gets my blood flowing, and leaves me desperate and drooling over the though of spilling yours and ripping your still beating out of your chest and feasting on it like the blood thirsty beast I am you cowherd punk motherfucker.

Fuck you and your sob stories, whore. Do you think I give a fuck about you and your past? Acting like you've got it so rough, yet here I am thirteen years old and not begging for the world to pat me on the pussy like it owes me something. I've been clear about the mistakes I've made, how I've selfishly trusted people so as to feel like someone actually gave a fuck about me- only to get fucked over time and time again. I don't need to cry and sob about it like you- if you're thirty seven and still homeless yet you've been a pro wrestler since you were seventeen then that's your own fuck up bae. That aint got shit to do with me and I have no fucking pity for you- that's all self inflicted, again signaling your insanity. There are starving children all over this world, innocent families having thier homes bombed and children murdered with your tax dollars and you think I'm supposed to feel sorry for you? C'est la vie mon ami! SO FUCK YOU!

You and Trax are so fucking weak minded and obtuse that you've allowed a teenage girl to inflict osmosis onto your membranes and guide you by your ears like a mother scolding her children since the very fucking start. Don't try jocking the truth of my argument again punk bitch. Calling me NOCMM? Again, what the fuck was that about? OOOOOOH, I guess that's some petty jab at the fact that I keep outclassing y'all both by being the work horse that I've always been and uploading grade-a works one after another. So now you're crying about that too in a passive aggressive type of way- god you've got a smelly cooter on you boy. Sorry Caedus. This isn't Saturday Savage three promo limit hun, this is the big leagues, Lethal Lottery, and you're on the short end of a tug-o-war battle with The Phenom, Dolly freaking Waters and I have no limits when I merk chumps like you.

Jim Said:You present a greater challenge for me than anyone ever has

You're goddamn right I do, so I'm glad you're starting to fucking realize just the level of shit you've gotten yourself into. If you think you're going to upend me, Dolly Waters, THE BEAST, THE PHENOM, THE DESTROYER OF JAWS, THE TEENAGE MANHANDLER OF MEN... then you're only dreaming. But you know what, and Trax this goes for you too- if you all are able to do it, and pull off something that's only been done one time, and pin Dolly Waters or something that's never been done, and make Dolly Waters submit, I'll stand up and shake the both of you's hands.

I'm not delusional, nor a sore loser, or an excuse making like Trax. You two beat me, I'll give you the props, bow my head and move on to my next conquest. But trust me when I tell you that I'm not fucking around. I can feel the flame from within my spirit twisting and turning with the rage boiling in my belly. When I step into that ring I'm going to bring 5000% percent of my effort, if I lose, no fucking excuses from me.

Go ahead boys, one of y'all go one and be the first to boringly spit that you're the bucket of water to extinguish my fire- it doesn't make a shit ton of difference to me- because the time for talk is nigh over and all that's going to matter is whether or not you twerps can back it up in the ring. Go ahead and balk at me adding the XTreme title into the fold, use it as way to spin some fabrication that I'm too focused on other things when I'm merely exercising my cerebral dominance. Having you two trip over one another, beating your heads into the mat to get at Dolly Waters will only make me giggle more. Go on Caedus, cry some more you little baby about how I keep staying two steps ahead of the both of you, claim like you did that my work is rushed and somehow faulty because of that. I shoot from the hip prick, and I aim to kill.

This fire inside of me?

It aint going no fucking where, and it's only going to spread more violently than ever when I bring it to Pyongyang and burn the whole fucking house down with my performance.... just like the fire that burnt Jim's life down the first time, I'll be the fire to finally end it.

I am Dolly Waters, and I'm about to prove it to you two and to the entire world exactly why I am The Phenom.