X-treme Wrestling Federation - War Games 2019 RP Board

A Plan to Conquer

Sat, 25 May 2019 23:57:00 -0700

In his gym, no longer worn or dimly lit, Ned Kaye is spotted performing hanging sit ups, a messy combination of televisions and notes across from him. Each screen shows a different member of Team Notorious in a match, Ned's face focused on absorbing the information through the aching muscles. His sharp breaths are heard with each lift, sweat covering his body.

"Are you sure this is effective training?"

The camera twists, showing Ethan sitting at a table covered end-to-end with an assortment of foods, many still steaming. Ethan brings a forkfull of roasted chicken into his mouth. Ned's words are clear, but strained.

"Absolutely. I need to... keep intense focus even through... pain."

"Uh-huh. And when are your guests supposed to swing by?"

"Preferably," Ned adjusts himself off of the bar, "within the next five minutes."

He grabs a towel, wiping the sweat of off himself.

"Do you think you're all gonna get along?"

"I wouldn't have drafted someone I expected to condescend on the rest of my team. Unlike some."

Kaye gives a sly smirk towards Ethan who lets out a short chuckle. They both go quiet as they hear the door open, heads twisting to see Mastermind stepping into the gym.

"Welcome, Mastermind, feel free to help yourself to any food that catches your eye."

Ned extends his arm for a handshake.

"It's good to see you here."

Mastermind looks at Ned's outstretched hand, smirks his infamous smirks, and shakes Neds hand.

"There's not many people I respect in the XWF, and it takes a while for me to trust certain individuals, but I can honestly say I have your back, providing, and I mean this, you don't screw me over."

Ned nods, turning to the door as Luna makes her way, not acknowledging the two much.

"I won't betray your trust, Mastermind."

All of a sudden, Edward bursts through the door, followed by his recognizable manager, Lord Thurston. Edward immediately goes for the food, scarfing down large plates in mere seconds.

"Well, we better get started."

===================

Lord Thurston: “EDWARD! What do you think you’re doing?”

EDWARD: “EDWARD JUST TALKING TO NED!”

Lord Thurston: “No! You’re fraternizing with the enemy!”

A look of confusion falls over Edward as he doesn’t understand the word fraternizing or what Lord Thurston means by “The enemy”.

EDWARD: “NED NOT ENEMY. NED TEAM CAPTAIN.”

Lord Thurston: “Yes, for this one event, but after that, all of your teammates are nothing more than potential opponents standing between you and the title of “strongest warrior”, or does Edward not care about his shinny anymore?”

EDWARD: “EDWARD WANT ALL THE SHINNY! EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR OF ALL!”

At this point, it seems as if Ned has heard enough.

Ned Kaye: “Okay, hold up a second.”

Lord Thurston: “No, you “hold up” Ned. I entered Edward into War Games so that he could display his unique talents in front of a larger audience. I didn’t enter him so that you and these other miscreants could distract him from the task at hand.

Ned Kaye: “Listen, we were just…”

Lord Thurston: “I know full well what you were doing Mr. Kaye, and I don’t appreciate it at all. Just because you’ve been named team captain doesn’t mean that I’ll stand by and allow you to interfere with my managing style!”

Ned Kaye: Listen carefully and listen well, Thurston: I did not draft you. If anything I saw you for the snake you are as soon as you entered Edward's world, but I sat by to be amicable. I am not going to bow to your exploitative desires to undermine my teammates, Edward included! He does not need you. I do not need you. Don't you dare confuse that.

Lord Thurston glares at Ned, but ultimately decides to walk away from the confrontation. He places his arm around Edwards shoulders like that of a good friend, and leads him off to a secluded area away from the rest of the team.

EDWARD: “EDWARD NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU FIGHT WITH NED?”

Lord Thurston: “Listen my boy, I know that they seem friendly, but that’s only because you have something that they need. Once the match at War Games is over, any of them are likely to stab you in the back if they think that it can somehow further their own careers. Especially Mr. Kaye. Recently, he was afforded the chance to sample life at the top, but he failed to break through the glass ceiling, and because of this, he’s the least trustworthy of the lot. Just remember Edward, we can play nice for now, but we aren’t here to make friends. We’re here to prove that you are truly the strongest and bravest warrior in the XWF.”

EDWARD: “EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR IN THE WORLD, NOT JUST XWF!”

Lord Thurston: “Very true, but tell me, before you were the strongest warrior in your tribe, what did you want more than anything?”

EDWARD: “TO BEAT STRONGEST WARRIOR SO EDWARD WOULD BE STRONGEST.”

Lord Thurston: “Exactly! So, is Edward really the strongest, or is Ned Kaye?”

EDWARD: “EDWARD STRONGEST!”

Lord Thurston: “Yes, yes you are. So, if you’re the strongest, what do you think Ned, or Duke, or Mastermind, or even Luna see when they look at you?”

Edwards shrugs, which causes Lord Thurston to sigh.

Lord Thurston: “They see their chance to take your place as strongest Edward.”

EDWARD: “BUT THEY NOT CHALLENGE EDWARD TO FIGHT. THEY JUST TALK.”

Lord Thurston: “That’s what they do Edward. “Warriors” here in the XWF aren’t always as direct with their ambitions as you are my boy. Far too often, they rely on trickery and underhanded tactics to further their position in the company. So just remember, even when someone acts like a friend, they are always to be considered an enemy.”

EDWARD: “ARE YOU ENEMY TOO?”

Lord Thurston snickers to himself as he twirls his long mustache. Okay, not really, but I mean, come on EDWARD!!!

Lord Thurston: “Of course not my boy! As a matter of fact, I’m the only person to whom you can trust. After all, I’d never pass myself off as a warrior, much less the strongest. Instead, I’d rather use my vast resources to ensure that you are given the opportunity to prove yourself.”

EDWARD: “EDWARD ALREADY PROVEN SELF TO BE STRONGEST.”

Lord Thurston: In your tribe sure, but not to the world. That’s why I’m here Edward, and when we’re finished, there will be no one who could possibly attempt to deny your strength! So from now on, stick close to me and don’t let these people try to lure you in with their false hospitality. The less that we conversate with any of them, the better.”

EDWARD: “BUT NED WANT TO TALK STRATEGY FOR MATCH.”

Lord Thurston: “The fact that he wants to discuss a strategy just proves who weak he truly is. Look at who you’re facing Edward. Do you really think that a strategy beyond “win” is required? The captain, Big D. It wasn’t that long ago that you faced off against one another. Remind me, how did that go again?”

EDWARD: “EDWARD CRUSH!”

A smirk forms on Thurstons face.

Lord Thurston: “Yes, and the rest of the team? Nothing more than a gaggle of geese following his lead. Do you think Peter Gilmour is a threat to your superiority? How about War Pig or Rain? No! Of course not! Peter Gilmour is the biggest wash out in the XWF!”

EDWARD: “WHAT THAT MEAN?”

Lord Thurston: “It means that he’s hardly a threat to anymore who doesn’t show up to a match blindfolded with both arms tied behind their back, and that pretty much describes the entire team. War Pig has never really done anything of note. Sure, he’s fell into a title here and there, but much like Mr. Gilmour, his reigns tend to leave much to be desired. Oh, and of course there’s Rain, a “guy” who would rather release video evidence of his incest relationship with his sister than take any match seriously. It speaks volumes about the guy, and if that’s all I knew about him, it would be enough for me to write him off as a non threat, but unfortunately for me, I know far more… Far far more than I would even care to mention. I’ll just say, Rain has always proven himself to be more of an attention whore than any sort of competitor. The point is, nobody on that team is any kind of threat to you Edward, no one!”

EDWARD: “WHAT ABOUT THE GIRL?”

Lord Thurston: “What about her? Didn’t you tell me that women can’t be warriors?”

Edward seems ashamed as he winces slightly while searching for the words.

EDWARD: “EDWARD MAYBE SEE THINGS DIFFERENTLY NOW.”

Lord Thurston: “Does this have anything to do with that girl you were fraternizing with the other day?”

Edward shys away from the question, telling Lord Thurston all he needs to know.

Lord Thurston: “See! This is exactly what I’m trying to warn you against Edward! For all we know, that Vita Valenteen is working with Ms. Lacklan and purposely trying to get in your head! Women can’t be warriors, you’ve said it yourself! So don’t allow her to use sweet words to change your mind!”

EDWARD: “OH IT NOT SWEET WORDS. SHE KICK EDWARD PRETTY HARD AND MAKE HEAD HURT ALL DAY.”

Lord Thurston pauses for a moment as he conjures up a reply.

Lord Thurston: “Even if Ms. Lacklan is a capable warrior, you’re still the strongest, correct?”

EDWARD: “YES! EDWARD STRONGEST!”

Lord Thurston: “Okay then, well if you’re the strongest then she shouldn’t be any problem right?”

EDWARD: “...”

EDWARD: “RIGHT!”

Lord Thurston: “Right… Besides, they have one talent that might be capable to making a difference. Team EDWARD has…”

EDWARD: “IT NOT EDWARD TEAM!”

Lord Thurston: “Yes, I know, but it should be and I refuse to refer to it as Team Ned. So, Team Edward has you of course, and you’re the strongest, but we also have some solid teammates to help you along. Ned Kaye, as much as I hate to admit it, he didn’t get that opportunity at the Universal Championship for no reason. He received it because he has forced people to take notice of his talent. He may not be the strongest, but he will make a fine footsoldier to ensure that Team Edward walks out of War Games victorious. The same can be said for the rest of the team as well. MasterMind just came off of a mildly impressive Xtreme Title reign, Thaddeus Duke is well regarded as a solid mid tier talent who has had a few title reigns himself, and Luna Hightower… Well four out of five isn’t too bad I suppose... “

Ned Kaye: “Edward, come on over here, we’re about begin filming!”

Lord Thurston: “Stay close to me my boy and don’t speak.”

EDWARD: “BUT EDWARD THOUGHT HE HAD TO TALK ABOUT MATCH?”

Lord Thurston: “Normally yes, but in this case, we’re only required to be in attendance, and I see no reason for us to invite attention to ourselves. Let these buffoons pull all of the agro and we’ll go virtually unnoticed up until you win it all my boy!”

Edward nods and follows Lord Thurston over to the rest of the group.

===================

Ned stands in front of a whiteboard with a drawing of the iconic War Games set-up, with small portraits of Team Big D to it's side.

"Alright, we're going to need a game plan and I believe I have one that will tear their team apart from within: not eliminating Rain immediately."

"EDWARD NOT UNDERSTAND! WHY NOT BEAT WEAK MAN FIRST?"

"What the fuck bullshit kind of theory is that? He's instant mincemeat."

"Look, look, I get it. Rain's an incredibly easy target and giving them the extra body isn't ideal, but having him there for longer works out for us incredibly well. He already has the ire of Lacklan and Gilmour, the two biggest threats of Team D. If we keep Rain in for as long as possible, they're not operating on all cylinders and we have a chance to end the match faster. Besides, the chances of Rain keeping his eyes away from his sister long enough to contend with any of us is unlikely."

"Now, to care of Big D, we have Edward and Luna. Luna, you've worked along side him, so you likely have some insight into his basic strategies. And Edward, he hasn't been able to deal with you effectively without John Black."

"EDWARD CRUSHED BIG D ALREADY! EDWARD PROVEN STRONGER WARRIOR!"

"What he is trying to say is that he is prepared to handle Big D and anyone else that's placed in front of him."

With a careful pause, Ned nods his head.

"Of course. Edward isn't one to lose to already defeated opponent. Thankfully, we have our baseline strategy down pat: to exploit the chaos of Team Big D. They might seem united on the surface, but their personal vendettas can and will be exploited. And hell, even if they can't, we're a stronger team, regardless."

The scene fades out, the team going over their plans as Ned draws on the whiteboard.

===================

The team stands in a formation befitting that of a superhero team. At the center of the frame stands The Notorious One, alongside his soldiers.

"War Games is coming. And with it a chance for old guards and new to clash in the most intense match type known to wrestling. Team Notorious has planned, has cooperated, has pressed its all into a team effort that can outlast anything Daniel's team can toss our way. We are strong divided and undefeatable united. And will take no less than an act of God to break our spirits apart. Sunday is the clash of egotism and humility. Of respect and the desire to hold the spotlight. We wouldn't break apart if faced by the Apex Prophecy or any team at War Games. We shall fight. And we shall be both Notorious and victorious. See you at War Games, Daniel."

With their pose held, the screen cuts to black after showing a full shot of Team Notorious.

SPECIAL THANKS TO:
EVERYONE IN TEAM NOTORIOUS WHO ISN'T ME WHO PUT UP WITH MY BUSY SCHEDULE

Team RP

Sat, 25 May 2019 23:55:24 -0700

===================

SPECIAL THANKS TO:
EVERYONE IN TEAM NOTORIOUS WHO ISN'T ME WHO PUT UP WITH MY BUSY SCHEDULE

Keep Your Friends Close and Your Family Closer (RP 8 of 8 - Apex Prophecy)

Sat, 25 May 2019 23:54:45 -0700

The Russian air is cold, bleeding through the glass windows of the train car and chilling me to the bone. I pull my jacket collar up and tight around my neck, sighing and watching the cloud of vapor form in front of my face before disappearing. I check my watch; I feel like I've been on this train for days, rocketing through the snow covered mountains and across the frozen tundra on my way to Moscow.

I don't like Russia, and not for the reasons most people would cite. It's not because they may have had a hand in placing a political pariah in power of the American public. It's not because of lingering Cold War animosity or Soviet Olympic domination jealousy.

I used to live here.

Sort of.

I spent three months locked in a Siberian prison, competing under some blood thirsty Wardens insane banner. I was young, naive and easy to get committed to companies that a more established star wouldn't even hear an offer from. Siberia was a waking nightmare. It took years off of my life and countless thousands from my bank account due to the therapy required. I bled buckets inside that frozen fortress, and the day I earned my freedom to walk out of those gates I told myself I'd never go back.

Silly Raven.

Less than three years later the Experts ran their Extreme Tournament in Russia, and as a nod to their history held the event in the exact same prison complex. Each bracket was housed in a different cell block and, in what I can only assume was a carefully orchestrated act, I found myself in the very cell I had lived in during my previous stay. I was stupid enough to believe there was going to be some beautiful irony in all of that. I thought that the room I had cried and recuperated in was going to years later be the nest from which I won the Extreme Tournament, and True Expert title.

The tournament didn't go well for me. Nothing I've ever done in this country has. It's one loss after another, one cracked rib and concussion after another. I told myself AGAIN that I was done with Russia.

Yet here we are.

"Hello?" whispers a voice as the door to my train car slides open. It's thick and raspy, damaged by years of vodka and chain-smoked Ruskie cigarettes.

"Yeah," I answer back, "This car is occupied, bud."

He nods, but doesn't budge from the doorway. His beady eyes glare at me, as frigid as the ground outside. I stare back at him, my eyebrows furrowing as I try to get a read on him.

"Hey, did you hear me?" I ask.

He nods again and steps inside the car, sliding the door shut behind him. He's big, not especially muscular but one of those giant Russian bears you always see in movies as the muscle for the intellectual villain or some shit. I tense up and rise to my feet. Something doesn't feel right.

"Relax," he whispers as he slides to the booth across from me and slowly settling into the cushions.

"Do you speak English? More than just 'hello' and 'relax'?"

He scowls at me.

"Don't be insulting," he grumbles, "Of course I speak English."

"Then why are you still here?!" I exclaim, "What didn't you understand when I said this train car is occupied? Was there something about my tone that made it seem like I was looking for some company and you should join me?"

"Relax."

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pack of smokes, pulling one from the crumpled paper pouch and sticking the unfiltered end between his teeth. He fumbles in his pocket for a lighter before producing a zippo and lighting his cancer stick with a swish and a click.

"Look man," I begin hesitantly, trying to maintain composure and keep this as civil as possible, "I'm here on business, and the business isn't exactly a walk in the park. I paid for a private cabin, you know what that means right? I need privacy. Quiet. Time to get my mind right for work..."

"Sorry," he offers with a simple shrug, "Everywhere else is full."

"OK," I grunt through gritted teeth, "But I'm telling you this car is full too. God damn it, I didn't want to play this card, but I'm with the XWF. Do you know what that is? I fight for a living, I'm not exactly someone you can roll on a train for shits and giggles, you know?"

"I know who you are, James Raven."

The blood runs cold in my veins as he smiles at me, a glint in his eye that's unsettling. He puffs on his cigarette, a thick cloud of smoke rising and swirling its way to the top of the cabin. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Well then I guess I'm at a disadvantage here," I whisper, my fist balling at my side as I prepare myself for the worst.

I mentioned that I didn't like Russia. I didn't mention that the feeling was mostly mutual. I hadn't exactly made a a multitude of friends in my time here, and the Siberian prison system didn't exactly spawn a stable of allies for me to call on whenever I come back to town.

Suddenly the door to the bar car slides open once more, and Aidan Collins is revealed in the doorway with Big Shank, bottles of vodka secured under their arms and other various spoils of their plundering filling their hands.

"JAMES!" Aidan practically screams at me, "Some Tolstoy Twink in the food car asked Dustin here how big his shank was! Oh my god it was hysterical! Who the fuck is this?"

Aidan and Shank notice the man sitting across from me, Aidan's nose wrinkling at the scent of the cigarette. They step inside the car and drop all of their items on the empty seat before turning to stand beside me.

"Yeah," Shank chimes in, "Who the fuck are you?"

The man stares at all of us for several long moments, blinking repeatedly but not flinching. He motions to me.

"We are old friends."

"No, we're not," I counter, "I've never seen you before."

"Oh, buddy!" Aidan squeals, "We're about to kick the shit outta you! 'Murica!"

The man stands up from the couch, suddenly appearing much taller than he did a few minutes ago. He's inches taller than any of us, shoulders as wide as the doorway he walked in through.

"No," Big Shank says suddenly, a hand reaching across Aidans chest, "Our guest here hasn't aggressed."

"His face aggressed me and I demand justice."

"That's... that's not how it works."

Aidan shrugs his shoulders, and Big Shank refocuses on the mysterious man. He motions towards the door.

"You're free to leave," Shank tells him, "Or to tell us why you're here, or to see how you fare with Aidan's option. Choose quickly though."

"PLEASE choose to fight!"

The man continues to eye the three of us, then once more reaches into his jacket pocket. Aidan lifts a fist, ready to throw, but Shank grabs a hold of him as the man produces a small envelope and offers it to me slowly. I take it from him, and without another word he slides his way past us towards the cabin door and disappears into the hall and around the corner. Shank makes his way to the door after him, making sure he's gone before turning back towards me.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," I admit.

"Read the note, dummy!"

Oh Aidan. As helpful as ever. I fumble with the envelope and pull a small note from inside, handwritten in a doctors scrawl I'll recognize for the rest of my life. My throat is instantly dry, my heart racing furiously as a cold sweat forms on my brow. I feel the color drain from my face and see the looks of concern on Aidan and Shanks faces.

"What is it? Who's it from?"

"My father... it's from my fucking father..."

"Oh Jesus, that's not good."

FADE
OUT

My father is the devil.

I know what you're all thinking, 'oh great, another spoiled rich kid with daddy issues whining because he didn't get enough hugs on the way to his eight pack abs and panty wetting charm', but it's not exactly like that. Sure, I started on that trajectory. I was the middle of three children, and he was one of the top doctors in Toronto in the early 2000's. My mother was a lawyer, and while she was a nurturer, he was never quiet about the fact that there was a high bar for my siblings and I to reach to earn any sort of respect from him.

He was an alcoholic. He was sporadically abusive. He was all those old clichés.

Something happened when my older brother went into wrestling, though. When TJ moved to the U.S. and signed with the XWF, my father changed. When I told him I was leaving to he changed for the worse... TJ was always a lost cause, but I was supposed to be his legacy. I had the look and the silver tongue to charm my way to the top of any ladder, an entrepreneurial mind and an athletes work ethic.

I wasn't happy with that.

I wasn't happy to ride out my days as an extension of his work, or following him around to social functions to be shown off as the prodigal son.

I wanted to make something for myself.

From that day on, he wanted to take it all from me.

My father tried to ruin my wedding, and a few years later sided against me in my divorce and tried to help Mia bleed me dry. He tried to steal control of the XWF from me four months after I had taken control of it in 2010. He destroyed my brothers headstone. He drunkenly blamed me for my mothers death as I pulled my little sisters beaten body from his apartment, her blood still dripping from his bruised knuckles as I used every ounce of self control to drive her away and not kill him.

My father is the fucking devil.

There's a laundry list of offenses ranging from grievance to atrocity, but at the end of the day it's been seven years since he and I had any real contact. I still remember the exact spot of the QEW I had pulled my motorcycle off to the side on, calling him on a disposable cell phone to inform him he was going to be a grandfather but that he was never going to be a part of that childs life. To his credit he understood. Or at least, he didn't argue.

Seven years he had managed to keep his distance. Seven years he hadn't made this sort of an effort to get in touch... but now? Days before War Games he sends some goon to track me down in the middle of nowhere on a train to Moscow?

Something is off.

Something doesn't feel right...

I hate this feeling.

Ugh.

My father is the mother fucking devil.

Literally.

Gross...

AUDIO ONLY

AIDAN COLLINS: Pass the vodka, bitch!

BIG SHANK: Shut up. You've had enough.

AIDAN COLLINS: That's the most offensive thing you've ever said to me...

BIG SHANK: Shut up?

AIDAN COLLINS: No! Implying that I'd had enough! This is Russia! I need the vodka to keep me warm! Pass it over.

JAMES RAVEN: Don't get too carried away, we're supposed to reach Moscow by morning and sun-up is in a couple of hours. I'm not carrying you off the train if you're wrecked.

AIDAN COLLINS: ... yeah you will.

BIG SHANK: No, he's right. Lay off it a bit. This whole trip wasn't supposed to be a party anyways, we were supposed to be here strategizing for War Games and for what comes next. Rolling out XWF Classic and the XX show is huge, it needs to be done properly, and CCP coming in here with his band of misfits to shit on our legacy isn't going to be in the cards. Right James?

JAMES RAVEN: ...

BIG SHANK: RIGHT JAMES?!

JAMES RAVEN: Right, right.

AIDAN COLLINS: Well that sounded convincing. Look out everyone! Here comes the Raven self doubt routine!

JAMES RAVEN: Don't be an asshole.

BIG SHANK: James, look at me. I did not get out of my bed in fucking Pittsburgh and fly all the way to Putin's territory for you to get cold feet right before the final battle. You're the one that stood up for the XWF when Page came storming in, and you've got a stacked team, there's no going back now.

JAMES RAVEN: I know. It's not my team, all three of those guys are monsters, I'd take the three of them against any of Page's group ten times out of ten. Centurion is proving to everyone that he's the Legend he was billed as, Robert is showing exactly why he's the Universal champion even if some people can't get his name straight, and Drew may turn out to be the MVP of this entire show. I just can't stop thinking about the fact that if you were going to handpick a team to beat me, and didn't take either of you two, you'd be hard pressed to find a better squad than this. MDK has beaten me twice. TWICE! I wasn't happy with the circumstances either time, but the results are what they are. Rage? He was the guy that pushed me to the longest running and bloodiest feud of my career, and he's beaten me as much as anyone else has.

AIDAN COLLINS: You still beat him more.

JAMES RAVEN: Not my point.

AIDAN COLLINS: MDK is a pussy. Can I have more vodka now?

JAMES RAVEN: I idolized Fuzz when I was a rookie, I was star struck the few times I was lucky enough to stand in the ring with him. He's one of the unsung heroes of the XWF, and-

AIDAN COLLINS: Stop blowing the guy, dude. He's winless against you, and he's been around longer than I have which is disgusting. Like, actually disgusting. It's making my stomach curl just thinking about it.

BIG SHANK: That may be the vodka, Blizz. Deal with it.

JAMES RAVEN: Yeah Blizz. Deal with it.

BIG SHANK: No, that last part was for you. I told you, we're in too deep for second thoughts now. You were in that room in Pittsburgh, you heard all those legends tell you that you're the right man for the job. Chris Page is a bump in the road; same with MDK, Rage and Fuzz. You get in that cage at War Games, you remind them all why they never wanted to fuck with you, and then we continue on with the rest of the plan. You're a co-owner of this company now, asshole! CCP is a fly in the ointment and nothing more, so protect your company and let's build it back to heights it's never seen.

JAMES RAVEN: Yeah...

BIG SHANK: Mother fuck... where the hell is the James "Fucking" Raven that used to run around the XWF? Where's the Prodigy? The Suicide King? You used to be all balls and bravado, confident to a fault. You used to throw middle fingers to the air and caution to the wind, running at every opponent with reckless abandon. Where's the trash talk? Where's the fucking fire?!

AIDAN COLLINS: He needs vodka.

BIG SHANK: Enough with the fucking vodka, Aidan!

AIDAN COLLINS: ... NEVER enough vodka...

JAMES RAVEN: I don't know! I wish I did, but I don't. I've been around too long and seen too many well laid plans go off the rails to feel cocky against anyone anymore. I don't have the need to get in the ring every week and try to prove something to the world. I'll stand up to CCP to prevent him from running roughshod, because nobody else will... but I don't think it's where my heart is...

AIDAN COLLIN: GAAAAAAAAY!

JAMES RAVEN: Fine! Where my head is! I don't fucking know!

BIG SHANK: You need to get it together. I'm not kidding. I don't care if you'd rather be in an office booking and signing contracts, or managing Drew and Robert, or training people at your gym or fucking a bunch of lingerie football players... this is NOT a regular match. If you go into this distracted you're going to get killed, you understand that right? This isn't a tag title defense against Perfect Storm, or a one on one with Scully because he ran his mouth on Twitter. You CAN'T coast your way through this.

JAMES RAVEN: So you're saying you weren't impressed by my performance against Rain?

BIG SHANK: What happened? You were focused and positive all week and now a couple of days out and you're breaking? What the fuck?

AIDAN COLLINS: It's his dad, bro!

JAMES RAVEN: Shut the fuck up.

BIG SHANK: Oh shit, it is.

AIDAN COLLINS: Of COURSE it is. How did you not figure that out, dude? I was on it an hour ago.

BIG SHANK: Thanks for cluing me in.

JAMES RAVEN: I'm not breaking! It's fine! Both of you just back off! I just think the timing is strange, you know? Why is he getting in touch with me now? Days before War Games... is he in business with Chris Page? Weeks after my co-ownership is announced... is he trying to steal my shares out from under me again? He doesn't want to catch up, there's something happening here...

BIG SHANK: Well until we know what that something is, we can't dwell on it. We need to focus on the task at hand; now walk me through the gameplan.

AIDAN COLLINS: It's War Games! There are no game plans! Try to hurt people and not get hurt! Have your head on a swivel, and don't let them outnumber you in a corner. BLEEEEEEEEED!

BIG SHANK: Eloquent. Raven, want to break it down a little further or should I go ahead and get off this train and fly back to the states? I can tell the rest of the legends you're fucked, and we need a new plan to take out CCP.

JAMES RAVEN: No. It's fine, I got this. Take them to deep waters. They're all rusty, all out of shape. Stretch them and make them work, get them mouth breathing, then pick up the pace. Let Drew be a blocker, he'll fly around the cage like a wrecking ball and destroy people if we give him the space to work. Watch out for Centurion, he's got a match earlier in the night and I'm sure the other team will target him. Stay out of the air. It's too risky. Quick impact moves, get Main to double team MDK whenever there's an opportunity, and hope that Fuzz and Rage don't play a wildcard and catch us off guard...

BIG SHANK: And?

JAMES RAVEN: Murder Chris Page.

BIG SHANK: Alright, good. Now that you're focused again, we can really get to work...

AIDAN COLLINS: MORE VODKA!

FADE
OUT

It's freezing when we step off the train in Moscow, the alcohol having thinned our blood overnight to the point of near anemia. My head is pounding, vision blurry as I stagger onto the platform and look around for signs to direct me to the taxi stand.

I don't speak Russian.

I can't read signs.

I look around for Aidan and Shank, but it doesn't seem they've made it out to the station yet. I survey the crowd, panning each and every face for one that might be familiar from the XWF staff that can help me make it to the hotel in my impaired state. I find a familiar face alright, but not a friendly one.

He stands across the platform, a black trenchcoat pulled tight against the icy Russian winds. His face is lined with deep creases and worn with seven years more stress and abuse than the last time I saw him; hair is salt and peppered, eyes gaunt and emotionless.

Jonathan Raven.

Who'd have thought I would fly halfway around the world to take on four of the greatest names in wrestling history, in a War Games match no less, and it wouldn't even be the most taxing battle I'd have here?

Did I mention how much I hated Russia?

"Hey dad. Hope you've been well. I'm still going to kill you."

"Don't be dramatic. You could never pull it off."

"Maybe not at home... but this is Moscow."

His eyes widen.

FADE
TO
BLACK

The Trust Experiment starring Team Blackwater! Yay!

Sat, 25 May 2019 23:51:33 -0700

Mid-Afternoon. It was a grey day. Overcast, with dark, foreboding clouds threatening to unleash their fury. Occasionally, the sky was slivered with an intense silver flash of immaculate illumination and in the distance, the angels bowled one heck of a game. Yet it did not rain. The smell was in the air though, it was coming... oh yes, it was indeed on its way and the increasing wind confirmed it. Still, the city thrives and churns, like a machine, unfazed by the approaching storm. These were a people that were far too busy and on the move, to give a shit about getting a little wet on their travels and Donovan Blackwater was one of them.

What with being an accountant/ financial consultant; freelance, of course, professional wrestler, member of The Elite and defender of the world (depending on the scheduled shift) and single father, rarely was his time not consumed. When he wasn't busy or occupied, fulfilling some obligation or another, tending to a myriad of tasks. Often seeing him living a life on the constant go. It was stressful but rewarding and oddly satisfying, to be able to accomplish so much, in so little time. Making him develop a sort of taste for it. This was the life that he was accustom to and wouldn't trade it for the world. However, that didn't mean he didn't also enjoy the down time, when nothing seemed to be happening at all.

And right now, that is exactly what's happening, nothing at all.

For the most part.

Standing on a random corner of an unidentified street, Donovan fires up a cigarette and takes a long drag, slowly allowing the smoke to seep forth as he casts his eyes towards the sky, right when the thick black blanket of rolling clouds, becomes overtaken by a brilliant display of light. Enhancing the gloomy backdrop with a brief moment of radiance. With that sighting, his thoughts instinctively shift to his brother, Ezra as they often do whenever he witnesses lightening. Donovan hadn't heard from Ezra, since his brother took that loss to Deacon. Now ordinarily a lapse of communication from Ezra, wouldn't give Donovan a cause for pause but based on recent events, all wrestling matches and their outcomes aside, he couldn't help but wonder if his brother was alright. With a sigh, Donovan takes another drag from his cigarette as he makes a mental note to call Ezra. Sooner, rather than later.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Came a familiar voice, summoning Donovan away from what otherwise might distract him. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he acknowledges the source with a smile - Lux, one of his teammates for War Games and friend, acquired by the means of the most unexpected and random design.

"Just a penny."

His response is quick, accented with an undertone of laughter that usually accompanies most of what Donovan says, still it makes something stir within Lux's mind causing her to be taken aback, if only for a moment. This brief instance of interruption, while fleeting is enough to catch Donovan's attention, sending his head on a slight tilt as he arches an inquisitive brow.

"What was that? Where did you go just now?"

"What? Nothing. Nowhere. What? What do you mean?"

The question had returned Lux's focus, like the recoil of a rubber band and with it, her tone came back with a sting, twice as sharp.

"Sorry, it seemed like my words might have done something... that could have triggered..."

"What? That could have triggered what?"

"I don't know. A memory or something. Maybe? It seemed like you got distracted for a second there. Like your mind went somewhere else for a bit."

"Where? Where do you think my mind went? What do you know? Have you been talking to Wylie? What did he tell you?"

"Oh my god. How do I get outta this?!?! No. I've not been talking to Wylie. I only thought it seemed like you momentarily drifted off and I figured that my response set in motion some sort of random recollection. Made you remember something. Which happens to me... a lot, actually. More times than I can count, which is weird cause I'm an accountant and kind of a genius when it comes to math and calculating numbers. Anyway... I'm rambling now. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't realize asking you about it would provoke all this. I swear, I come in peace. Can we start over?"

Sighing, Lux's tone softens as she realizes the error of her reaction... or rather, her overreaction. This was not entirely her fault though, it had been a relatively unusual and emotionally trying past few days, leading up to War Games. A virtual roller coaster of lows and highs, that eventually led her into trusting the aid of a rather unlikely source. Someone she barely knew yet shared a unique understanding of transferring a consciousness, from one place, to another.

Generally speaking, it was highly unorthodox for Lux to give away trust like that, given her past but that's what hope did to people and in spite of being a kick ass freedom fighter from the future, even she wasn't immune. In compensation for this her defenses were raised, tenfold. With a shake of her head, she softly snickers as she considers the way her mere tone and insistent questioning had effected Donovan. Altogether different than the way he would have handled that sort of thing in the past.

"Yes, of course and I apologize, your question merely made me remember..."

Pause.

"A dream I had the other night."

Nice save.

"Haha! Okay. Cause I thought the next step was an interrogation lamp... or water boarding."

"Oh shut up. It wasn't that much of an overreaction."

"Sure. Right. Whatever you say. You know, if this were any typical interaction and you weren't sharing Corey's body, I would've assumed it was your time of the month and asked you if you wanted to smoke a little pot. To balance you out and get yourself in check, if only for that sole reason alone but I know, Cody's an addict and you're inside his body. Which not only makes that suggestion null and void but it also totally eliminates the possibility of that sort of 'lady issue' from ever occurring. Unless..."

There was that underlining tone of laughter.

"Wait. Is that something that still happens? Like the mental aspect without all the extra, added unfortunate attributes that coincide with it."

"If you're asking what I think you're asking, I should forewarn you to quit while you're ahead and drop it, before I punch you and you show up to War Games, with a black eye marring that handsome face of yours."

"Awww... you think I'm handsome, thank you. Also yikes if that wasn't an admission, I don't know what is? Yowza! Point taken."

Lux jokingly swipes a mock punch towards Donovan and as he backs away, a very distinct snap can be heard. Pulling both of their attention towards the cause. Across the street there is a truck with a crane attached to it, hoisting a piano up to a window on a high rise building. A grand piano, to be exact. One of the support tethers had broken away causing the snapping sound. Thus leaving the enormous thing, hanging in the unstable balance of a single, solitary rope. Potential danger waiting to happen, in its finest.

Cue the hapless, unknowing individuals, passing by beneath the impending doom. Then like clockwork, there comes the crack of the rope breaking. Which instantly sends the piano plummeting towards the ground and the unsuspecting victims below. Thinking fast, Donovan raises his hand and an invisible force catches the piano. Gradually he lowers it to the sidewalk and sets it down.

"Luke Skywalker does it again."

"Luke Skywalker. Please. I would have never spent that much time alone in a cave with a muppet."

Along with the scent of an oncoming storm, irony fluctuates heavy in the air today, for much like the unaware individuals that narrowly escaped getting squashed by a grand piano, Lux and Donovan are now the unknowing targets of misfortune. Two muscle bound, mountain men in masks appear, virtually out of nowhere and grab Lux and Donovan from behind, precisely as a van speeds up right next to them. Both Donovan and Lux get tossed into the back, hitherto the two goons climbing inside themselves and then, the van takes off.

Yet, in the spirit of hope, a few feet away there sits the true embodiment of it, in the shape of a car inhabited by Robbie Bourbon and Scully. Teammates of Lux and Donovan, that just so happen to have witnessed it all.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Is this where I say something stupid followed by a "Narf!", "Point! or an "Egad!" only for you to reveal that you plan on taking over the world, cause that would be highly uncharacteristic of us."

"No knucklehead. We need to save Lux and Donovan. They were clearly abducted right in front of us."

"Yeah, I know I was only messin' with you, my unlikely sidekick and combat cohort for War Games. Lets go show those non-descript, cliche, stock footage villains, what happens when they mess with the guys that we're forced to team with for a pay-per-view."

"The way that you said that could mean two very different things. You want me to chase them, right? Cause that's what I planned on doing from the beginning."

"Jumping Jehoshaphat! Yes! Drive Scully! Drive! They're getting away!"

Our hero finds himself walking around on a beautiful spring day, heading towards a "keep America great" rally. Not to show support, and not to protest, and not even to instigate. Our good ol boy, as usual is going to try and mediate between the inevitable clashing groups because he lives his life with the motto "I'm here to help" and figures he can aid these fellow children of god. If only to find a common ground and break some of the deceptions trying to divide and conquer us all, brought on by the entertainment industry and the world of politics. Unfortunately, he brought them together alright as they merged as one, in a single, unified force to chase our hero down the block. He zigs and zags, fairly gracefully for a husky fella, but he is also losing ground quick and the mob of satanic degenerates is not far behind. Sadly this is an area bRiaN is less familiar with and he is running out of ideas on where he can go to catch his breath. Suddenly a car pulls up with two of bRiaN's warfare partners Scully and Robbie Bourbon seated inside.

Robbie:"Brian, get in!"

Brian:"Buddy right now I'll go just about anywhere"

Brian opened the back passenger door and as he got in, Skull sped off again. Brian hadn't even closed his door.

Brian:"Are you crazy?"

Robbie:"He is super crazy. I'd hold on if I were you!"

With the getaway van nowhere in sight, Scully was getting frustrated.

"They could be any fuckin' where?! Way to go, Brian!"

Robbie:"Yeah, way to go Brian! I'm just messing with ya. Just ignore him, he gets a little cranky sometimes."

Scully notices the van down a side road and suddenly turns right without signalling. The wheels screech as a pickup truck narrowly avoids them.

Robbie:"I don't think we'll make it to Wargames with this nutcase."

Skull had the car at 80mph now and was in and out of the traffic, avoiding the other vehicles.

Brian:"We're gonna die aren't we?"

Robbie:"It would appear so."

Brian:"Who we chasing anyway?"

"That van in the distance. Can't you see it? They have Lux and Donovan!"

Robbie:"He's a bit cranky. He hasn't had his meds this morning."

Scully was in hot pursuit now and right behind the van. Other vehicles on the carriageway beeped at Scully as he overtook them. Suddenly the van turns left and Scully never realized that's what they were gonna do, continuing straight.

"Fuck ya aunt fanny!"

Robbie:"Way to go, jackass."

Brian:"If you turn down this next alleyway on the left, you should be able to catch them."

"That's the most helpful thing you've said."

Scully indicates left and quickly turns down the narrow alleyway. Scully's car hits various trash cans, knocking them up in the air and chucking rubbish everywhere. A hobo who had just woke up from a nap, stands up and has no choice but to jump out of the way as Scully nearly runs him over.

Brian closes his eyes and Robbie looks on. Scully was just focused on the task in hand and nothing more. They seen the van go past at the bottom of the alleyway and Scully swiftly turns at the end of that alleyway to be back on the tracks of the van. The traffic light changes to red as Scully approaches it but he ignores it and a lorry hits the air horn, narrowly avoiding them.

Brian:"Are we still alive?"

Robbie:"Hardly."

The van is coming to the end of the road with only two options available. A right turn or a left. Which way would it go? As it turns right, Skull turns earlier, cutting across and causing the van to swerve into a lamppost. Skull halts behind them.....

With that, Robbie steps out of the car, sipping on a ice cold Coca-Cola, to which he holds label out and exhaling a satisfied "AAHHHHHH" after enjoying a beverage that could cure cancer if the FDA said so. He looks at the van, then back at the car.

Uh, this is it? They're just here, in this van, sitting here?

Scully looks up and nods his head.

Scully: That's the place.

Brian: Hyep, it seems awful quiet, though.

Robbie: Okay, this'll be easy.

Robbie shrugs and sips his refreshing Coca-Cola again, simply stepping towards the van. As he does, the sky goes black with swirling clouds and red lightning, and a terrible rip in space and time itself happens, and out steps a creature. Standing some ten feet tall astride seven legs, a set of pincers coming out from its sides, deep red chitinous plates all over it's body including a pulsating abdomen, and reaching up from the body is a long slender neck culminating with a cranium some twenty four inches across, a set of three antenae, no eyes, and a mandibled jaw. Soda shoots out of Robbie's nose as he reacts in shock to the sight of this thing.

Foolish mortal! You come to take back the others?

Robbie stops dead, the shock completely washed away. He sips his Coca-Cola.

Woah, woah, woah, first off, foolish mortal? Cliche, meh. Booo-rang.

The monstrosity that just ripped time and space itself jolts at Robbie's glib nature. Scully and Brian look at Robbie in complete disbelief as he disrespects the creature.

You dare...

I do! Of course I came to fetch Lux and Donnie. They're, well, our teammates for a wrestling match, and, frankly, it's a really bad idea to go into that ring so outnumbered, regardless of how stupid and shitty our opponents are. Gary for Cincinnati is lame, Tony Santos can't cut burlap let alone a wrestling promo, Luca's line by line wannabe Calvin Klein ad style, Deacon's lame ass allegorical Judeo-Christian backwash leftover from Doc, and whatever pile of goofy horseshit knock-off-of-me and super plain named Sam McPherson is are the kinds of things you experience at a sleep study as a drug free alternative to Ambien to make you tired. Look at you, goofy space monster, you even look tired now.

The monster looks perplexed, as though it's completely alien yet insect/crustacean physiology is completely understood in its body language as Robbie Bourbon, when faced with some interdementional creature that still uses vans to abduct people, still seamlessly talks massive amounts of shit. Scully smirks, almost knowing what comes next, as Brian looks on, almost as perplexed as the monster but at the ready to fight if need be.

FOOLISH EARTHLING! YOU WILL SUFFER AND KNOW THAT YOUR PLANET WILL BE ENSLAVED FOR TEN THOUSAND EONS BY...

Blah, blah, blah.

The monster looks visibly shaken again as Robbie is nonplussed by it's words, tenor, or seemingly perfect grasp of the English language even though it is definitely not from any English speaking country natively judging by it's completely extraterrestrial form. Scully rolls his eyes and chuckles.

Scully: C'mon, Brian, best not interrupt Robbie, he's rolling right now.

Brian: But, uh, that big...

Scully: Heh, just watch. That thing isn't the scariest thing here right now.

Scully sets back on the hood of the car, bemused. Brian cautiously backs away, still taken aback by the sight of the creature that came from almost out of nowhere and the fact Robbie is just insulting it.

THE THREE OF YOU WILL BE FOOD FOR THE DENIZENS OF MY WORLD! YOU WILL ROT IN THE INTESTINES OF MY SPECIES FOR A THOUSAND YEARS!

Robbie shakes his head 'no' and glances back at Scully knowingly, gesturing at the beast with his left thumb. Robbie turns to Brian and winks, knocks back the last of his Coca-Cola, crushes the can in one hand, then turns back to the monster.

Look, asshole, no fucking time, all right? When you talk as much shit as I do, well, everything else just seems kinda dull, you know? Plus, I have wrecked shit way scarier than you. Why don't you go back home to whatever asteroid or nebula you came from and think about getting into retail? Invading Earth never, EVER works out. Go watch a movie or something.

ENOUGH!

The creature lunges at Robbie. Robbie simply sidesteps the thing, grabbing it's long sinewy neck with his right hand. With his left, Robbie grabs its cranium. With a snap, Robbie rips the creature's head off. Robbie looks at the head, tosses it to the ground, then at the body.

Like eatin' crab legs.

As the body jerks and convulses for a moment, a viscous yellow fluid erupting from the point where a head used to dwell, Robbie steps past it to the doors of the van. The creature's body collapses in a heap. Robbie tries the door of the van once, and sees that it's locked. He rolls his eyes, looks on the ground, and finds a rock. Robbie busts out one of the rear windows of the van, then reaches in and opens it.

Robbie casts open the rear doors of the van, and Storm and Scully race up as well to ascertain the conditions of their team mates. Lux and Donovan are both bound and gagged inside, but appear otherwise unhurt. Robbie clambers into the back of the van and starts hoisting them out and into Scully and Storm's waiting arms. Scully pulls down the gag covering Lux's mouth.

Computer, end simulation Team Building Exercise. Lux says, as soon as her mouth is clear.

As soon as the words are spoken, the entire scene begins to break down into crude pixelated forms before dissolving completely, leaving the team in the bare virtual reality chamber within The Citadel. Lux claps her hands together satisfactorily as Wylie Sinclair also enters the room. So, how did it go?

Lux considers each of her team mates in turn before responding. It went pretty well. Despite some questionable narrative choices. Lux smirks at Wylie, who shrugs in response.

I thought the monster battle was pretty cool.

So ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, are we feeling like more of a team now? Donovan inquires with a somewhat jokey tenor.

Oh yeah, 'bout to hold hands and sing kumbaya! Scully shoots a thumbs-up. Nah, but for real though, this place is pretty cool! You do birthday parties here?

Oh but Scully, the manager at Chuck-E-Cheese is gonna be so upset you changed venues this year! Robbie cuts in.

But before Scully can respond, Brian Storm says, Here's what I wanna know, can this room make a whole bunch a ladies with big 'ol bosoms appear?[/i] Brian helpfully holds his hands out in front of his chest like he's cupping a pair of heaving titties.

Robbie points in Brian's direction. I like how this guy thinks. Then, to Wylie, Let's make it so. And Robot Kid, just when you think you've gone thicc enough.... Robbie mimes cranking a dial ever so slightly …..just a bit thicc'er.

I like VR porn as much as the next bloke, but can we maybe refocus on some strategy? I got other things to do.

Robbie takes out his cell phone in response. Oh, well in that case let me pencil that in. On my CALENDAR. And set an ALARM. Which are both helpful tools for remembering DEADLINES! Robbie looks pointedly at Scully.

Scully throws his hands up in the air in annoyance. Oh come off it you masked fanny!

Lux moves to interject between the two of them. Okay, everybody's calm! Everybody's friendly.

Hey, uhhhhh, computer? Can you play Travis Tritt Live in Concert?

Suddenly, a live arena performance starts to form around all of them, drawing all of their attention. More specifically, it's Travis Tritt singing “It's a Great Day to be Alive” from the Live and Kickin' Tour.

Donovan looks aghast at Brian. What have you DONE?

Oh come on boss man, it's a helluva song! Sing along if ya know the words ya'all! Brian steps into Donovan and links arms with him, proceeding to belt out the lyrics to the song. I got rice cooking in the microwave, I got a three day beard I don't plan to shave, It's a goofy thing but I just gotta say, hey, I'm doing alright!

Scully looks at them both and laughs. Oh this is rich! But Donovan grabs Scully by the arm and forces him to lock arms with him.

If I have to, you have to!

Yeah I think I'll make me some home-made soup
I'm feeling pretty good and that's the truth
It's neither drink nor drug induced, no,
I'm just doing alright!

Lux, seeing an opening, invites Robbie to link arms with Scully. He scowls, and pulls Lux in between them. Lux gives Robbie a reproachful look, but agrees to link arms with Scully, as Robbie takes Lux's arm in his. And then, Robbie shocks them all by taking up the song!

And it's a great day to be alive
I know the sun's still shining
When I close my eyes
There's some hard times in the neighborhood
But why can't every day be just this good
It's been fifteen years since I left home
I said good luck to every seed I'd sown
Gave it my best and then I left it alone
I hope they're doing alright!

Wylie, not missing a beat, then pulls out a lighter and starts to hold it aloft, swaying in rhythm with Travis' twangy dulcet tones.

The shot starts to pull back as Team Blackwater, arm in arm, start to rock back and forth, taking turns singing the lyrics and maybe, just maybe, starting to look like a reasonable facsimile of a War Games winning team.

BOOM!

The scene opens up to a large room, with an assortment of chairs set up, each occupied by a member of Team Blackwater, that of course is also including the illustrious captain himself - Donovan Blackwater. Seated next to them on a very tall stool is Micajah "Cager" Viteri, the newest edition to the XWF reporting staff... hopefully, after this interview airs because this is being done in an avant garde style - meaning he's not really employed by the XWF per se. Not yet, anyway. But this interview was agreed upon by the entire team as a way of getting him noticed and maybe even earn him that job. Fingers crossed, 'eh?

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "Well, it pleases me to announce, I am sitting here with Team Blackwater. They will be facing Team Deacon at War Games. Which is set to happen in a couple of days. Tell me gentleman (and lady), are you nervous at all?"

The team shuffles a bit in their seats and look to one another before responding.

Donovan Blackwater - "I think I was more nervous when I faced Robbie Bourbon, than I am now and he's a part of my team... so, I'm basically set. No worries."

bRiaN sTorM - "Nope."

Lux - "I feel a little differently. I get a little "spike" of anxiety anytime I get in a fight. It's only natural, and it's what keeps you alive. But am I feeling particularly nervous about War Games? No. Our team is very competent and half of Deacon's can't even be arsed to cut a promo."

Scully - "Nervous? I am nervous. I admit it. I confess, I am a little nervous. I am nervous, not because I'm afraid of losing, but because I'm afraid of what Team Blackwater is going to do to them. I look at my teammates, even Robbie "Fanny" Bourbon Scully looks at Robbie and winks, Scully-" And then I look at their team. It's not a very fair contest on their part, in my opinion."

Robbie Bourbon - "I feel like this signifies it all."

Robbie pulls out a cantaloupe, cracks it in half and begins consuming the delicious fruit.

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "It sounds like you all are pretty confident. That's good. I have to admit, I'm a little biased when it comes to this match cause your team, Donovan is stacked with some of my personal faves. From yourself, all the way down to newcomer, Brian Storm. Your team here, it's got some major swag. While your opposition has guys like Grappling Gary, who as far as I know, has never cut a promo, ever. I'm not even sure how this man keeps popping up, to be honest. He's like a creepy pasta story or a Twilight Zone episode. The wrestling legend that never really was. Turns out he was a ghost all along. Anyway, what I'm getting at is this, how do you feel about your opposing team's general interest, effort and attitude towards addressing you all and the forthcoming match."

bRiaN's response is to find the nearest camera and spit on it. High fiving Robbie on his way back to his seat, Boubon hands bRiaN the other half of his cantaloupe and they "cheers" the two pieces, together. As Donovan and the rest of Team Blackwater look at them in amusement.

Donovan Blackwater - "I think most of them are too shook, too scared... looking at you, Luca. Ha! No, this is what I mean when I called them Team Why-bother, Team Pointless and Team Fuck-it-all. They lie to themselves and everyone else, when they make promises and commitments, then don't do anything or even try to live up to those promises. Oh they have every intention on doing something, they just don't. It becomes a chore and a bother that they begrudgingly have to deal with. And if they give any effort, at all. It's... well, everyone seen Luca's promo for Warfare, when the opportunity for a shot at the X-Treme title was on the line. Don't get me wrong, not everyone on Team Eeyore... is like that, as made evident by Deacon and Tony but more than half of the team, is that way and it shows. In my opinion, that proves these folks don't give a shit, not really. If they can't show some support for their team and interest in the match, what makes anyone think that it'll be different when they're in the ring."

Lux - "It's particularly unfortunate in Luca's case because he used to be great. I tread heavily on this talking point earlier in the week, so I don't want to get too far into it, but if you don't care anymore I don't see why some of these guys don't just move on. Light your fire somewhere else, doing something else, because it's clearly not being lit here anymore."

Scully - "You see what my team doesn't realise is they can thank me for Luca's demise. When he was riding with fuck boy, Fernando, as they called themselves. They were the XWF Tag-Team champions... Until they met The Union. MacBeth and I, beat them, took their tag titles and Fernando was bummed. Then Luca was never the same. Deacon is meant to be the captain, but I believe Tony Santos is the only one that really cares, that's unfortunate because he might be left all alone.."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "Right on. Right on. Valid points.Speaking on teams. It certainly seems like you all have come together rather nicely."

Donovan Blackwater - "If there was any doubt."

Lux - "Better than expected, even."

Scully - "Even me and Robbie can put our BEEF aside for now. I knew when this team was announced, even with me as the last pick. Had to give that dig there.. It was going to be victory."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "Haha! Yeah, well this next question pertains to that, so hang on a sec. When you first learned that you were going to be teammates, how did that make you all feel and how does that differ from what you're feeling now? And Donovan, you gotta keep quiet for this one cause you're the captain, you literally chose them, meaning you knew what you were doing and had the option of choice. These guys were just plucked up and told this was how it was going to be."

Lux - "I knew full well going into this that I could very well be teamed up with people I don't click with on an interpersonal level. But isn't that true of all things? Do you LOVE everyone at your job all the time? Do you LOVE everyone in your unit if your in the armed forces? No. And it's unreasonable to expect to. That being said, I actually feel better now than before I was chosen because I did not end up on a team with anyone I flagrantly disagree with on moral grounds, like Deacon. Hell, I could have even built a serviceable partnership with Sarah!"

Scully - "As the King of the tag division, the King of forming stables, teaming with others isn't exactly difficult for me. I've teamed with Maverick, Muudy Waters, Chris MacBeth, as already mentioned. Guppy Parsh. I've already teamed with Robbie Bourbon. You get the drift?! I want to win, these lads and girl want to win. We have that in common and sometimes that is enough to get the job done."

Robbie Bourbon - "I felt determined and was instantly ready to crack some skulls but that's just a Tuesday for me."

bRiaN sTorM - "I felt excited and ready to prove myself and that hasn't changed."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "Alright. I hear ya. That makes sense. Now Donovan, this goes solely to you. Why did you choose these men to be a part of Team Blackwater? What was your reasoning behind it all?"

Donovan Blackwater - "Honestly."

Donovan looks to Lux and smirks.

Donovan Blackwater - "Initially, I picked Lux first cause I wanted to piss her off. After the promos she cut, I thought it would be funny if she was stuck working under me, with me being her captain. I mean, I knew she was a talented wrestler, no doubt. She beat me. Obviously she's quite skilled. But... uh, my first instinct was based on being a fucking bastard. That's it."

Pause.

Donovan Blackwater - "Anyway, after I got to know her, it became clear that she was an excellent choice for more reasons than that. Both her and Corey are amazing individuals and their bravery, dedication, perseverance and loyalty, knows no bounds. Those are vital components to have in this sort of situation. Plus Corey is a riot. So that's a definite upside too. I suppose what I'm trying to say, is that once I came to know them more, it became obvious that I made the right decision for the team. That grew and enveloped over what my initial thought process had been. In the end, I believe that I made the right call. I see them as an essential part of Team Blackwater. They're sort of my co-captain, in a way or my first officer. Also, suffice to say, I think we're sort of friends now, rather than people who roll their eyes at each other in the hall. Though after I admitted the first part of all this, I'm not so sure Lux will still see it that way anymore."

Laughing Donovan continues.

Donovan Blackwater - "As for the rest, I went by their merit of character and performance thus far."

"Robbie is a straight up, beast in the ring. Trust me, I've been on the other side of the ring from this man and that was one of the most painful losses that I took. In more ways than one. My body can regenerate, I heal quicker than most and I was walking with a limp for like two days. On top of that I know he gives every fight his all, he's fierce and fucking determined, I appreciate those qualities. Reminds me of myself, which is why I probably acquired a limp for two days, after facing him."

"Scully, is a scrapper, he's dynamic and unpredictable. A real live stick of dynamite and that is made very apparent in his matches. This guy gets in the ring with direct intent to fuck things up, that's his purpose and his drive. I see him as a man that takes his opponent by surprise, which I think he only does for the enjoyment of it. For the laugh. I can definitely relate to that."

"And finally I picked Brian for his heart, I think that's what fuels everything he does and explains his strength and courage. The endurance and sheer willpower that he has in the face of battle. He's new but he's also undefeated. Those are all key factors to have in a teammate. I'm also glad that I picked him because it gave me a reason to get drunk and shoot guns."

"All in all, I think I have the best fucking team partaking in War Games. One that will maintain its full, original line up too. There won't be any pinch hitting happening for Team Blackwater."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "That's really awesome. Are any of you inviting anyone special to watch the fight?"

Donovan Blackwater - "My brothers will be there but they're always there. They're pretty 'special' sometimes. Haha! I kid. They will be there though. Other than that. Nope. I'm not seeing anyone at this current moment."

Lux - "Dexter and Joachim Bright will be watching us from home, no doubt. Corey invited Vita Valenteen to make sure I don't let him get too manhandled."

bRiaN sTorM - "Nope."

Scully- "My other half will be attendance. My boy will be with the mother-in-law, I can call her that even if I haven't married her daughter, yet. Curtista and Alfie, of course, those bellends are special to me."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "What about after the fight, what do you all plan on doing, afterwards?"

Donovan Blackwater - "Celebrate the victory. Get fucking ripped. Maybe find that special someone... you know, for the evening."

Lux - "Oh, I'm going to kill the shit out of Madison Dyson. If she ends up being a sub, it may not wait until afterwards, either."

bRiaN sTorM - "I was gonna invite the team out to celebrate our victory with a game of texas hold em at my place."

Scully - "I might punch Bourbon on the nose. Maybe go have few drinks with the mrs, bang her in the hotel. That sorta thing!"

Robbie Bourbon - "Laugh at Scully while he tries to punch me in the nose. Meet up with my peeps. Overthrow a caucus, attend a charity fundraiser, incubate some baby chicks, eat a sandwich and maybe... just maybe, hear the joy of a child's laughter, when the video of Scully attempting to punch me in the nose goes viral."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "Actually Lux, just a quick side bar but what is your deal with her?"

Lux - "Long story short, she kills me in the future."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "Heh heh, well that's a first for me."

Micajah "Cager" Viteri - "You all will definitely deserve to celebrate, should you win. Heh. When you win. All right there you have it. Team fucking Blackwater! See them live on May 26th, at War Games! Gentlemen, it's been an honor and hopefully, I'll be interviewing you all separately at some point in the future."

Donovan Blackwater - "No doubt. Fuck Steve Sayors."

Lux - "Ah, Steve's ok. He's played along with some of me and Corey's segments. But it was a pleasure Mr. Viteri."

Scully - "You're lucky Scully attended this interview. I got rid of Sayors ages ago. Only Curtista can interview me now, with this one off exception."

Brian simply smiles and nods as Robbie slurps his cantaloupe loudly and this interview comes to a close.

End Transmission

Keepin It Real

Sat, 25 May 2019 23:37:27 -0700

Robbie Bourbon has always had a habit of cutting somewhat unconventional promos. Not like Rain, though, yikes.

Switching Gears....

Sat, 25 May 2019 21:40:14 -0700

The lights are dim. A single light bulb hangs from the ceiling, swaying back and forth. The light bends around the room, casting shadows around the walls. A cloud of smoke wafts into the frame. A glowing red ember can be seen in the back for just a moment, and then as quickly as it appeared it was gone. Soon followed by more smoke. A figure hangs in the back, and slowly makes his way towards a chair sitting in the middle of the room. The red ember is seen again. The man sits down and grabs the single bulb above his head and centers it above him. It can now be seen that it is Fuzz, wearing all black with his hood up.

"It's times like these that I really feel the disrespect. The ability of some people to drag their feet and watch hoping for something that isn't going to happen. I have seen many people in this business fall by the wayside. I've watched the next big thing falter and stumble. I have seen nobodies become champions. I've watched people ruin their honor. I've watched the old guard, which I am apart of, try in vain to recapture relevance. Little did I know that in one week I would watch all of that happen to people that didn't know what was right in front of them."

Fuzz chuckles to himself, and takes another drag of his cigarette.

"Listen, when I agreed to be apart of this match... it wasn't for ego. It wasn't for chasing fame or one last chance at glory. No, I accepted this match to show the world that I wasn't quite done yet. It's been long established that I was never supposed to be a "Legend" in the XWF, but after years of hard work, and a few breaks going my way, I'm still not there. I see others that I have beaten get bestowed the honor. Yet how do they treat it? They don't even bother to mention it. It should be what everyone aspires to do, and yet those who are there, are embarrassed to be called a "Legend" here. No why is that? Could it possibly be because this place was a joke for so many years after the old guard left? Ding Ding."

Fuzz takes a deep breath and just shakes his head and then shrugs.

"Seriously, would you want to be associated with a place that called Peter Gilmour the top champion? Would you want to be known as a "Legend" for a company that so blatantly spit in the face of the people who built the ground work? I sure as hell wouldn't, and yet here I am. I am the last of the dying breed. I'm the last one standing. I'm not who you expected to be here, but I'm the one you should've known would be here. This company has been in my blood since 1999. I have bled for this company! I have missed birthdays, weddings and funerals for this company! Yet what do I have to show for it? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Why is that? Well because people have forgotten about the past. I'm not saying you have to live in the past, but you need to notice that without it.... You're nothing."

Fuzz looks up at the light dangling above his head. He taps it to get it swinging.

"There have been a lot of times that I have looked up at the lights while the ref counted. I have watched lesser men get the jump on myself. I have watched as they all have faded. Hell everyone gets a pop when the old guys come back, only to quickly throw them aside. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. This is the last stop on my ride. I don't know how long I'm going to be here, but rest assure I'm going to finally go out on my own terms. I'm not going to let some pussies stop me now. I haven't been this motivated in a long time."

He looks directly into the camera. He reaches out and pulls it closer to his face.

"I want you to look me dead in the eyes, and see if I'm joking. I need you to know that while you are busy focusing on others, I'm right here."

Fuzz shoves the camera back.

"I guess it's time to finally speak directly to my opposition for Sunday. Yet as always, I must address my own team. I'll start with RAGE. Fuck You. You don't want to be apart of this then get the fuck out. I didn't want you here, I don't need you here, and bottom line I never liked you. I never trusted you and these past few weeks are nothing more that proof that you didn't have the mettle to step back into the ring, and do what was right. MDK, glad to see you are in fact not dead. Glad to see that you are here for the fight, and like Rage, I don't trust you. You are loyal to one man, and one man only. So the same thing applies to you as to RAGE. Fuck You."

Fuzz cracks his knuckles, and leans over in the chair.

"Then there was PAGE. Our team captain. Well their captain. I won't hesitate for one moment to take you out, should the occasion call for it. You are not a captain, you are not a leader. You are a man walking around with an over inflated ego. Your ego is so large I'm surprised your not backing RAVEN on this one. The gall of you to ask for a Universial Title shot is fucking rich man. You haven't even fought here yet, and here you are asking to jump the line? Get fucked. The reality of the situation, I don't need RAGE, MDK, or PAGE to beat those chumps. I could get it done with NOAH, EDWARD, and well anyone else, hell even the incest driven RAIN. Page I don't need you to win this match, but you damn sure need me. So tell me CAP.... Who is really in charge?"

He smiles at the camera. Fuzz bends over and picks up a duffel bag and starts rummaging through it. He pulls out a small stack of papers, and tosses the bag aside. He pulls up a picture, with DREW on it.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is the man that was murdered. Not in reality of course, but over the internet sensation known as Twitter. You see his skin was so thin, that even he said himself that I didn't get under it, yet I did. How do we know this? Well simply put he can't stop talking about it. It's the only thing he has talked about while referring to myself. If it didn't happen then why on earth do you keep bringing it up? It's really simple, I was right with what I said. You gave a child something when it was crying just to shut them up. You gave an undeserving asshole a title shot that wasn't eared or warranted. Just because you wanted the night off. There were plenty of other options, but you decided that was the route to go. I hate to keep harping on that, but it still doesn't make a lick of sense to me. I know that you think this match has already been determined, and that's fine. Much like Thanos, I am inevitable. Everything you have worked for up to this point has brought you to me. You play the role of Captain America. Good when you are broken, so will the USA's will. You can bring Fat Thor, Dead Tony, Smart Hulk, African American Panther, hell you can bring everyone to the party. Yet we are in one of the 14,000,505 other outcomes. You will lose. You will fall. You will be broken. This isn't a movie, there isn't a happy ending for you guys. There will be no "I Love you 3000" moment. Just blood and tears. pouring from you bodies."

Fuzz tosses the picture aside, and grabs the next. CENTURION.

"Ah yes, the other old man in this match. Only this time he has sided with... wait I know that's right, people who will always be seen as better than him. I know last time I called Drew the weak link in Apex. Sorry to break the news to you Centy, you are now the weakest link in the Apex Prophecy. I like how you claim to know what my plan was all along. Saying Page played me like a puppet? Seriously you know better than that. Fine Cent, let's go by your account of all of this and that did happen. Are you sure you would want to go against me when my motivation is based around a team? I mean unpredictable sure, but with an actual goal in mind. Is that really what's best for you guys? Wouldn't you want the Fuzz who doesn't care who he hurts, or doesn't care about winning? No you want the one with the sole focus of winning for the team. I knew you were always fucking stupid, I just didn't think you were on Trump levels of moronic. Listen it really hurts me that you think that I am going to die with a needle in my arm. That's funny because you don't know a damn thing about me anymore.

You like to think you've taken the high road and watched as I have fallen, but I never fell. You did. I didn't lose anything. You did. You say that I'm an asshole, well using your own words, Hello Pot, my name's Kettle. You are the broken one. You can't and have never been able to stand for yourself. I have. You have always needed the approval of your peers and friends. I didn't. You have never won.... That's been covered to death, and at this point it's like saying the sky is blue. It will forever be a fact. I know that it must really piss you off knowing that I have done something you never have or will. I'm the one broken and alone, yet I'm not the one reaching for brass rings, and failing over and over. Say what you will about me getting James' attention, it worked. What was the end goal?

It was never about the titles. It was never about making friends. I wanted James to know that when he took over as owner, that I was still going to be here. That when everything else around this business and company were falling down, I'd still be here. I'd still be willing to take the baton and pass it on to the next one. I won't fall away like Engy, I won't duck people like Bob. I will stand and fight just like I always have, and just like you seem to have forgotten."

Fuzz crumples up the picture and tosses it over his shoulder. He flips up the next picture.

"Ah yes, BOB. I call you Bob because that's all you seem to do on James' dick."

Fuzz lets out a slight chuckle.

"Sorry had to get a dick joke in here somewhere. Moving on. You see Bob I finally got around to your, for a lack of a better term, shit shows. I must say I was and still am underwhelmed by you. All you seem to talk about is Apex Prophecy, and Page. I think that might be a slight oversight on your side. Sure you need not worry about Rage, or MDK. Yes focusing on Page is OK I guess, but the person who you should be focusing on is Me. Not to sound arrogant, but it's the truth. I'm sure James has told you some things about me, and yet you still choose not to even mention me. I find that a bit curious. Like you said in regards to Page, maybe you're just no concerned and didn't care that I was talking about you. That's fine.... if it were true.

The Truth of the matter is that I think you are scared of me. I know I'm a real arrogant prick. Yet it can't be that far from reality. Just look at it from my point. I'm either too small for you to care, or so much of a threat that you are going out of your way to make sure my venom is pointed in another direction. Smart, but not really. I've never been afraid to say what's on my mind ever. The fact that you haven't said but a few words regarding me, that's weakness. A true leader and champion doesn't walk away from a fight, he runs head first towards anyone disrespecting them. You have showed your true colors, and you are scared.

You say that we should stop before we start? Bob when did you start? You say the only way out of this is Death? Been there homie, sorry to break the news to you. I don't think you've ever been laying on a table with no pulse, your family around not knowing if you're going to live or not. I have, I know what it's like to fight death... Do You? The only thing I can say is sorry. I'm sorry that your family won't be there in Russia for when then finally announce you as DOA."

Fuzz lightly sets the picture down, and flips up the last one.

"No slight to Bob, but we all knew who was going to go last on this adventure. JAMES come on down. You are the very car Cent was talking about. I'm glad that he is referencing to quotes from movies over a decade old now. Yet this dog has caught you. Not like actually catching you... you know what I mean. Centurion was correct. I wanted your attention. I need you to know this isn't how this was supposed to go down. I wanted to be on your side, but when I saw you were with Apex.... My blood started to boil. You're saving grace was Centurion, but you just indoctrinated him into your new family. I'm not saying I was ever in your family, but you know me. You've seen me at my lowest. You were there, and now I am here as well. Yet I must address some of the things that you have said about me recently.

You claim I was desperate to get into the Main Event... You're damn right I was. But it wasn't because I lost a title to Big D, which I didn't. The title was given up after there was not a single soul who would step up to me. So there goes that idea. James you think I don't know I can't trust anyone on my "Team"? That's about as obvious as a fact as there can be. James if for one second you think I don't know they wouldn't sell me up the river in a heartbeat, then you are just as clueless as you were when you first started here. I've seen everything before. You of all people should know I have my guard up. I know that I'm living in the past to a point, but has anyone ever thought that maybe, just maybe.... I'm clean now?

I mean you guys haven't seen me in what, 8 years or so. You really think that a heroin addict would live that long? With all the money I have from selling this place. You really think that I would still be breathing if I was still dirty? Well I've got some bad news for you James. You see after my failed experiment of running the XWF, I took some time off. I got super high all the time, and eventually ended up in the WGWF. I was clean when I started there, and I am still clean to this day. So sorry to break the news to you and Centurion....

I won't be dying with a needle in my arm. I won't be fading away, I won't become another dead wrestler with a tragic story. No This is my story of redemption. This is me showing everyone that it does in fact get better with time, and age. This isn't going to be a War. I've already been there and done that. No...this is simply put....

A Statement."

Fuzz stands up and grabs the light bulb and starts it swinging. He walks out of the room. The camera begins to focus on the walls, and slowly begins to focus on a phrase that is written on the walls. Then suddenly the entire room lights up, and the phrase is written all over the walls. Hastily scratched in over and over again.

FROM PAIN COMES WAR, FROM WAR COMES PEACE, FROM PEACE COMES SOLITUDE

Then Fuzz kicks the door open and walks back into the room. He sits back down in the chair. He takes a deep breath.

"I wasn't quite finished yet. I stepped outside for a moment, and then realized that I had some more to say. I know it was a good ending point, but sometimes the script[/php] needs to change and needs a rewrite. I was thinking that maybe you guys are all correct. Maybe we don't stand a chance. I mean after all we couldn't possibly stand a chance against a well oiled machine. We are just four rouges that are here. MDK and Rage and fighting for Page, and I'm out here for myself. We can't possibly win. Then I think about how you guys started...

Maybe you guys are just as fractured as we are. I mean Bob has the Uni title on his mind. Drew can't stop thinking about pussy. Centurion is probably mid way through the 2000's now, and James you are focused on running the place now. Maybe you guys have more to worry about than we do.

I mean Rage and MDK are more than likely done after this match. Page has already set his eyes on the Uni title, and failed. Then there is myself. That's it. I'm here for myself. While we may not be a true team, and yes I cannot trust any of them, we all still have the same goal in mind. That's winning. That's all MDK ever cared about. That's all Rage cared about. That's all Page cares about. That's all I Care about. You four all have something else on your mind. We may not be a team, but you are the ones that are fractured."

Fuzz goes to stand up, but then promptly sits back down.

"I never do this. Usually I just say my peace and I leave it all in the ring. This time it's special. This is War Games. I'm not expecting to come out of this battle unscathed, no this is the type of fight that will leave you scarred for life. I see that you guys have won one in the past, and that's good, but as Drew said...

Old Shit is old. You don't care about my past... Fine. I don't give a fuck about yours. The only thing that is really going to matter come Sunday, if a fight. Usually in Wars there are casualties, and I'm not expecting anything less. The only thing that matters this time....

Is that I'm the last one standing."

Fuzz Stands up and walks out the door again, this time not to return. FADE.

Neighborhood Nuisance

Sat, 25 May 2019 19:58:40 -0700

Following a good night of putting away a fair amount of whiskey with team captain Donovan, bRiaN offers up his preferred hangover cure of a big cup of dark coffee and a well packed bowl. After a bit of talking and smoking, Donovan requests they go out back, and play with some of bRiaN's guns. bRiaN is aware it was a clever distraction so they can move on from the conversation Donovan was getting uncomfortable with, but bRiaN was happy to get ol Don to open up at all as they are still getting to know one another. With a smirk on his face bRiaN replies

"Lets go out back, I'll start you off with Sally May"

"Sally May?"

Donovan chuckles.

"She's got a rich family history, maybe one day I'll share some of her Legendary tales, when we're exchanging family stories."

bRiaN replied with a wink and playful elbow.

The pair exit and head out to bRiaN's yard. Just as bRiaN finished setting up some targets, they hear a group of neighbors clambering out front.

"Friends of yours... I hope."

"Yea that looks like the whole neighborhood has gathered up, I hope the fam hasn't done anything to piss em off again."

"Awww... raincheck, boo."

"Yea we're gonna want to be halfway through a bottle of brown and at least, a quarter of sticky, when we do this proper like anyway."

"Ah. That sounds... safe. Clear enhancements, when one fires dangerous weapons."

Laughing bRiaN walks on towards the gathering of his neighbors, with Donovan in tow.

"Howdy boys what can I do for ya'll?"

"We got another kitty tracked up to the ol Bell Witch cave, thought you and the boys might care to join in the festivities "

One of the country fellas stated, almost spilling his jar of moonshine.

"Hey bRiaN, quick sidebar, if I could"

"Of coarse, one moment boys. Grab a seat on the porch, I'll be with ya in a minute."

"Um... why exactly are you and the neighbors, chasing a kitty into the Bell Witch cave?"

Donovan inquires, with a hint of concern on his face.

"Well that kitty is a mountain lion and it threatens our livestock, so we as a community who takes care of one another, get together sometimes to deal with shared problems."

"Cool. Alright, I can understand that. One more question, do we have to actually go to that particular cave? It's just... I seen the movies and I'm pretty sure, everyone dies. While I fancy myself a badass defender of the city, I don't think I can protect all of you guys and stay alive, myself."

With a laugh, bRiaN says.

"Nothing to worry about, friend. All that stuff about about an old witch, leaving behind a centuries old curse is just an Urban Legend."

"Really? Well that's a relief."

"I'm sure all those people were simply killed by the demon, the witch left behind and that's why so many folk went missing."

bRiaN casually explained

"As long as you've accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior, the petty boot licker can't defeat us."

"Is that all...

Briefly, Donovan seems apprehensive but that quickly fades.

"Oh alright, lead the way. You've captured my curiosity. Lets go hunt a mountain lion and potentially invoke the fury of a cursed witch that isn't real and possibly encounter a demon. Should be fun and not at all terrifying or life threatening."

"Hey is the suit coming er what?"

"Be nice Tommy."

bRiaN said sternly.

"He's with us."

After several miles of hiking through the woods, Brian, Donovan and company, finally reach their destination.

The Bell Witch Cave.

"Alright boys. Check your guns and let's get up to that cave."

They head up the mountain, to the Bell Witch cave and prepare for a hoedown with the "kitty". bRiaN stops the group about 40 feet from the cave and says.

"Ok boys set up shop here. "

"Hold up. Why aren't we going in, oh fearless leader? I thought you weren't afraid of demons."

Donovan jokes, with a grin.

"Well some of the boys, they aint got right with god yet, so I'd rather not put them at risk "

"I see. So then what's the plan of attack exactly?"

"We're gonna lure the cat out with this predator bait. See we take some of this small game meat and mix it with these blackberry bits and place these about ten feet from our cave entrance and everyone takes their positions When it gets to the bait, we unload on it"

Excitement fills bRiaN's voice as he explains.

"Sounds like a legit plan of action."

Brian and his posse get to work and within minutes, the plan becomes a reality.

"Alright traps set, get back Larry and ready boys "

bRiaN says with a smile on his face. No sooner are these words expressed, a mountain lion comes slowly walking out of the cave.

"Hey, look at that, it's actually working. Wow. So inhumane... but so fucking cool at the same time! "

Three...Two...One ....the whole place erupts with gun fire, leaving the only salvageable trophies to claim being claws and teeth. The men divvy up the parts they can and head back to bRiaN's for a celebratory, beast feast and whiskey is once again, flowing like a river. Blunts and bongs blaze up and make their way around. bRiaN comes up to Donovan with a mountain lion tooth charm and hands it to him.

"Here got ya something to remember the night "

Donovan thanks bRiaN for a fun experience and the cool charm, but insists he must be leaving to head home and prepare for War Games, so they say goodbye and try to get themselves in the War Games frame of mind as the event draws near.

"Deacon really? A demon? I heard you were a clown but to fraternize with the side who has already lost? Don't you know God has already defeated them? Damn, you just can't pick a winner to save your soul, can you? Oh Tony, Tony, Tony. I have to thank you. I was having trouble sleeping, till I herd your tired ass rambling. Same eye closing rederick, time and time again. I take it that's your thing, repeating the same boring blathering shit, over and over till your opponents pass out. Good plan. You have a definite future in curing insomnia. Luca have you retired yet? No? Why not? Gary! Why don't you go back to Bikini Bottom and crawl back to Spongebob's pineapple. And then both least and last, Sam I am....not impressed."

Samuel making a mark in his first ever War Games match

Sat, 25 May 2019 19:25:31 -0700

Liam McPherson (Samuel's father's) funeral day. Yankton, South Dakota. Friday, 26th April.

It was the dreadful day of having to say goodbye to a loved one for the first time as everyone from Samuel's family and Markus's family was around. Markus, Samuel, Sebastian (Samuel's brother), Konrad (Markus's twin brother) and Jake (Markus and Konrad's cousin) had to pick up a massive coffin on their shoulder to take it into the church as the other members of Markus, and Samuel's family follow behind them. After they got the casket in the church, they place it down very gently on the table as they then take their positions with Samuel standing next to Markus, Sebastian and Amiela.

Once everyone was in, the Priest talked about stories about Liam, what he was like as a person, and how much some of the family members of Samuel meant to him. There's a lot of tears, running down people's faces, especially with Samuel and even Markus who usually doesn't show any sign of emotion at all.

Once they have done that and sang a song, they all leave the building with the same guys who picked the coffin up earlier picked up the coffin again and placed it in the car nice and slowly. They then went to look at the flowers in the garden they had for Liam.

Samuel was the last there, and he couldn't stop crying who barely even interacted with anyone at this point, until he writes a note down of what Samuel's going through and then goes to Markus, Jake, Sebastian and Konrad, showing them what he wrote. Sebastian says this.

Sebastian McPherson: "Yes, I miss him too. He was a great father, and we'll always have memories of us doing things together as brothers forever. I don't know the two of you, but thank you for coming."

Markus Raab: "Oh, that's Jake Raab, my cousin and my twin brother, Konrad."

Konrad Raab: "Sebastian's right, Sam, you will always remember those memories. I still remember my memories with mine. Even Markus can agree with me on this, but while for now, it's hard, but over time, it'll get easier. You'll come and see your dad's grave more often, right?"

Samuel McPherson: "Yaarrp."

Jake Raab: "Liam will always watch you both wrestle and play basketball from above, always there to support you both. Not psychically of course, but will always see you succeed your dreams of being NBA and wrestling champions of the world. I can see it happen with the pair of you sooner than later."

Samuel then writes down a message for everyone that's there. After he has done that, he goes over to his mum who's crying uncontrollably over the death of his dad and her husband. Samuel and she says this to everyone that's there.

Amiela McPherson: "As nice as it is, looking at the flowers everyone wrote and done to Liam, it's time to leave and bury Liam."

They all then go in their assigned cars, and they drive off to the cemetery which was ten minutes away from the church, even if Samuel's been crying the whole way to the graveyard, even with Markus, Sebastian and Amiela there. Once they arrived, the doors opened, and Samuel, Markus, Sebastian go straight to the car, waiting for Konrad and Jake to arrive in the other vehicle.

Once they do, they get out of the car as the driver who drove the coffin opens the doors and allows the six lads pick up the coffin which was easy for them when they always do wrestling or building muscle for basketball every single week. They carry it on their shoulders to gently place the coffin down where Liam's name was with the tombstone, and the Priest says a few short words.

Priest: "We are here today to remember a great man who was married to Amiela McPherson and how he had two children he brought into this world, Samuel and Sebastian McPherson. Their father loved each one of his children, and he was proud to be apart of the family and loved Amiela so much. They have had their arguments like any couple, but he always looked out for his family and helping them out. Please, take your time to place flowers on the grave."

As everyone did by taking turns with Samuel and his family going first before the Raab family did and so on as everyone, apart from Samuel, Sebastian, Amiela and Markus left the grave, although Fizz and Konrad were standing next to each other, holding and rubbing each other's hands with tears running down on their eyes.

Samuel, on the other hand, dropped to his knees and cried like a baby, crying like he's never felt pain in his life, being quite close to his dad along with Sebastian as well. They all said their last prayers for Liam and they got the chance to kiss the grave before Amiela says this.

Amiela McPherson: "You may place the grave over the soil now."

As the funeral guys get down to doing that as they used spades to throw soil back to the grave, and Amiela says this to Raab."

Amiela McPherson: "Can I ask you to be excused, Markus? I want to speak to Sebastian and Samuel alone."

Markus Raab: "No problem."

Markus goes to stand with Fizz, Konrad and Jake who eventually approached them as they watch from the background, Amiela says something to both of her sons.

Amiela McPherson: "You both will get something special from Liam's treasures. Not only that, but before he died, he happened to write a letter to both of you. I don't want you both to open it until after the wake."

She hands both Sebastian and Samuel envelope letters from their dad as Sebastian asks questions about it as it was strange he wrote it before he died.

Sebastian McPherson: "How did he have the time to write this?"

Amiela McPherson: "His health wasn't in good shape, and he always wanted to write you both letters in advance in case something happens. Heck, I've written you both letters as well. I want you boys to come and see your dad here every two or six months in Samuel's case, always come on his birthday and whenever you want alone time with your dad. He's in a safe place now, and he will always love you both as he loved me."

Samuel McPherson: "Yaarp."

Samuel blows a kiss to his father and his dad's grave as Sebastian blows a kiss, while Amiela says a prayer with Samuel following before letting the tears come out with both Sebastian and Samuel hugged around her before they let go as Sebastian says this.

Sebastian McPherson: "We have to go to the pub to have snacks and free drinks for the wake. Let's go."

Amiela and Samuel nodded as they walked back, allowing the funeral workers doing their job of placing the soil back in the hole where the grave was. They all left, with Markus, Konrad, Fizz and Jake following them back to their assigned cars where they got drove to the local pub where Liam always went with his friends for the wake.

---------------------------------------------------------

Markus training Samuel for War Games match. Las Vegas, Nevada. Thursday, 23rd April.

After the announcement a few weeks ago of Henry signing Samuel up to a war games match, they've been doing nothing, but spending time for entire two weeks, doing nothing, but training inside of a massive structure cage match. Markus always made sure Samuel was ready to do this, especially Henry signed Samuel up to do the War Games match for a reason. Samuel, until two weeks ago, hadn't even seen a War Games match.

It became clear Samuel lacked experience, but at the same time, Markus had been pushing Samuel, even bringing the wrestling ring and the boxing ring together. Markus wants Samuel to do nothing, but practice and practice to get comfortable wrestling inside of a steel cage, something Markus does see Samuel could do very well, although if they are climbing to get an item from the top, Samuel will struggle in the area.

Apart from times spending time with Callum, they had been training in the headquarters gym with the war games construction non stop as Markus couldn't afford Samuel to take breaks, apart from two in the afternoon to take Callum back home. Markus sees how brutal Samuel can be in the cage. For the first time since they started training, Markus told Samuel to stop before Henry presses a button to lift the cage.

Markus and Samuel took a seat in the headquarters gym they were at as Samuel sits next to Markus on the bench as Samuel grabbed the large bottle of water. He gulps half of it due to how thirsty he was, and Markus says this to Samuel.

Markus Raab: "Good job, Sam. You know, I've recently lost my last few War Games matches, but the important thing is you'll have fun, doing anything you please to destroy team Blackwater. I can't help you who your opponents are in the match because I don't know anybody in XWF, but I know you'll do a good job."

Samuel McPherson: "Yaarrp."

Markus Raab: "You lost a match? Tough, it was only your debut and still getting over your dad passing away, but this time, you have no excuses on performing to your potential. It's about having the killer instinct in the match, all about being that destructive animal, posing no fucking limits to stop you going on a destroying and hurting spree, feeding yourself to the other weak animals in the match."

Samuel laughed a bit as he was so serious about the match. After he took a large gulp with the water again, Samuel writes something down to Markus about the match and Markus nods and says this.

Markus Raab: "I won't lie; you will likely get hurt and have broken bones. God knows how many bones I broke in War Games matches, but it was a lot, and I bleed like a pig too. I know it'll likely not happen because of you being new to XWF, but who knows what they can do."

Samuel McPherson: "Yarp."

Markus Raab: "What's wrong?"

Samuel writes down what's his concerns after a very uncertain yaarrp. After Samuel shows Markus his disappointment, Markus understands Samuel, nodding at him and says this.

Markus Raab: "I know you wanted to face Sarah badly, but you can't. As much I want you to kick her ass because of her intruding my brother and my sister in law's private business that wasn't on camera or had anything to do with her, it's something you can't do. I thought it was out of order ."

Samuel McPherson: "Yaarrp."

Markus Raab: "However, after the last few weeks of training non-stop we've had together, I know you'll do a good job of proving Deacon he made the right decision to pick for you. Now, I want you to go all out on these fuckers you're facing, regardless of who they are and regardless the main opponent you wanted isn't in the match, you do anything to prove to the rest of Team Deacon who the fuck Samuel McPherson is and you'll go and dominate them with your own hands."

Samuel nods and Markus continues.

Markus Raab: "You'll get some help from Deacon's team as it's a teamwork War Games match and you learnt how to win the match. I have faith in you Samuel to perform to your full potential. Although I like to say you shouldn't care on who's on the other side of the team, it's the best way, to be honest."

Henry came in at that point, seeing how serious Samuel was about the match and he pats him on the shoulder, with two suitcases for himself and Samuel as well. Of course, Raab doesn't care about that as Samuel does indeed pick his suitcase and they leave Las Vegas together to fly towards Moscow, Russia for the most significant event ever for Samuel McPherson, but Henry saw the point to it was for Samuel to be unleashing the animal inside of him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

War games will be something I will thrive in blogger.com notes.

These last two weeks have been nothing, but hell for me, learning everything of knowing what to do in the match against Team Blackwater. I'm disappointed I'm not facing Sarah in a match. The reason I wanted to beat her pretty face to cause bruises and concussion to her is because of her unveiling what my brother and sister in law are doing like it's any of her god damn business of what they do behind closed doors when there's no camera showing that anywhere.

So be lucky you fucking cunt you aren't facing me because trust me, I will get my hands on you and beat the shit out of you as I have no problems beating you Sarah.

Blackwater team admittedly, I know nothing about at all whatsoever, I barely had time to study because of being away with my dad's death. I've already dusted myself off and be ready to go to know a bit about my opponent.

I start with the captain of the team, Blackwater himself. I saw the match you had against Deacon and needless to say it was a great match, but you didn't win the match, did you? You silly man, of course, you didn't stand a chance because Deacon was able to get the win. Just imagine how you'll lose to Deacon once when you are happily ever after. I also respect the achievements you've done as well, winning the Xtreme title and TV title. You already don't stand a chance from us after being defeated last time. Nobody will have faith in you.

Then we have Lux who's a current TV champion. Seems like in his last video, he kept going on about Dungeons and Dragons like that matters in a wrestling match. For a TV champion, that's pathetic as you deserve better than being where you are. You need to do something about that because I find you a talented guy. You lost to Big D last time you stepped into the ring. I don't understand why you never gave Big D a TV title shot after losing to him.

Brian Storm is retentively new to XWE, like myself where not many people know about him, maybe the dark horse in the match mainly because he's a new breed of wrestlers coming through. I think the lack of experience will cost you and the team heavily here. I've had a lot more wrestling experience than you dude, but I appreciate a big overweight guy being successful like my tag partner would certainly like you. However, like Lux and Blackwater, you're in the way of being beaten the shit out of and send you packing from the match.

Then we have some other masked guy named Robbie Bourbon who again like Brian is retentively new to XWF so not much said can be said about him either, but the guy sticks out with a different kind of muscle he has on him, instead of these skinny masked wrestlers you get way too often with. The guy is so different from the ones I've seen, so he's perfect for a match like this, however, I'm not afraid to lift you and Brian Storm off your feet. I look forward to facing you.

Then we have a returning Scully who's done everything in the company. The guy is a significant threat compared to the last two opponents we've talked about in terms of achievements and especially the experience factor as well. He's very cocky too, but the problem with that is that there are rarely ever wrestlers you see who are cocky, but extremely violent to throw someone around the cage and beat them down. I don't think you have that killer instinct inside of you.

While I do and I know the rest of my team do as well. You see, I don't need to do two pointless blogs to write notes because everything I say, I believe in and doing two blogs and videos doesn't win you matches, getting in the ring does. I never cared for my losses in wrestling; I dust them off and restart over.

I might not be able to talk, I might have autism, but none of those things matters in the wrestling business because I'm capable of doing anything. This war games match, I've been doing plenty of training in two weeks, barely non stop. I'm more than ready for it, being the guy who will take the win for Team Deacon because as the title of my blog says, I will thrive in this match because it's suited for sick and killer instinct fuckers like myself and Deacon, doing anything to take the win for the team.

Tomorrow night in Russia, you will see the birth of The Animal where he'll do anything to get attention from everyone and to be remembered by everyone in the match as a guy who will be destructive and put the beatings on all of you. Prepare to be eaten by The Animal as I will hurt and make all of you suffer, causing blood and broken bones in all of your bodies.

Rise of the Dark Templar

Sat, 25 May 2019 19:14:30 -0700

“You see Mister Polamolau,” he said as he brought the dark statue closer to me, “For all your reputed studies, you simply don't know anything about the Baphomet. This is where you find the answers, though you may not like them.”

I felt an all pervading sense of 'other' begin to push it's way through my system. I felt like perhaps I no longer had much time to be me.

* * *
A FEW DAYS EARLIER
* * *

I sat in my office fielding a call from, of all people, Chris Page.

“Chris,” I said, “to what do I owe the pleasure...or lack thereof”

He giggled in that special way he only does when he's high as giraffe pussy, “Aw, don't be that way! I called to offer you some work,” he said, barely hiding his glee.

“Okay, Chris, this is where I remind you,” I began, my usual exasperation showing, “I no longer wrestle. I have a law degree these days...I do legal work. Alternatively, I also work as a private investigator from time to time. What I no longer do is wrestle. Besides, didn't you shutter the doors on the WGWF. One would think that would limit the amount of wrestling you, yourself do.”

“It would be...but I got a call from your old stamping grounds, the XWF,” he said.

“Delightful,” I responded, “Go have fun.”

“I would,” he replied with a stoned giggle”but they are gonna do some War Games thing...and well, we are the heroes of War Games...I kind of want to knock their dicks in the dirt.”

“Sounds delightful,” I replied, “If you need legal representation, I am there...otherwise, let the Young Turks and you have all the fun.”

“Look man,” he replied, attempting to be serious, “There aren't too God damn many people I trust more than you. I need you man!”

“Let me think about it, Chris,” I said with a sigh.

“Great,” he replied, “I'll let them know you're on board.”

“I'm not...” I began to yell, but the phone was dead. The asshole had hung up on me.

I hung up the phone and then I noticed the gentleman standing in the doorway to my office. He was wearing a by God Tweed suit, right out of the fifties with a dingy, battered fedora on top of a bald head. He looked like he had been dipped in oil and allowed to dry. His face was pinched and weasel-like.

“I'm sorry,” he said in a voice like a sinister whisper, “am I interrupting something?”

“Only an idiotic phone call,” I replied, “who are you and what can I do for you?”

“The name is Darin, Darin Hitmarsh,” he said, “I seek something dangerous and you have a reputation for taking dangerous cases.”

I sighed. What was with today? People trying to get me to do things I don't do anymore.

“I never take dangerous cases because they are dangerous, the few times I take dangerous cases, usually someone's life is on the line. Good Day, “ I put my head down to fill out the form that I had been working on.

“Well, the danger is to the world at large,” he said, “are you familiar with something called The Baphomet?”

I sighed again.

“Yes, I am familiar with the Baphomet, a construct cobbled together by the church to claim the Templars were devil worshippers so they had an excuse to take their money and lands,” I replied.

“That is what most of the world believes, but the truth is the Baphomet was created by a group made to be a Satanic answer to the Templars,” he began, “It was a simple idea, taking the virtue and the devotion of the Templars and copying it in the service of evil.”

“My, how fascinating,” I responded, “Please, make sure you close the door behind you on your way out.”

“The point is,” he continued, ignoring me, “They created the Baphomet...a creature of Satanic Service, and when they saw the writing on the wall, something that their heroic counterparts missed entirely, they made sure that one of their holes was redecorated as a member of the Templars and they left the Baphomet “hidden” within...although making sure it's hiding spot would be discovered. In those days, belief and truth were one and the same so when the Holy Mother Church saw it, they assumed that the Templars were responsible. They hid the Baphomet after it's purpose had been served or so they thought.”

He paused long enough for me to interrupt...I chose not to. I figured if I let him get the story out, maybe he would go away.

“However,” he continued, “the Dark Templars had a prophecy. A belief that when the Baphomet resurfaced and they would make a resurgence into the world. That they would rise again, more powerful than ever, to lead the world into Darkness!”

“Sounds like an amazing season of American Horror Story. I love that show, other than that, I'm not interested,” I said not looking up.

He merely sat there staring at me. After feeling the weight of his gaze sitting upon me, I spoke again.

“Thanks for stopping by,” I said, “the security detail I am sending to come remove you is offered only to my best customers and of course, any injuries they cause in removing you are absolutely complimentary.”

I reach for the phone, about to punch the code for building security.

“Your parents,” he said, “rather your mother. She did most of the work on this, Mister Logan.”

My hand freezes. I did not often think of my murdered parents. They were both students of history as well as scholars and professors. I knew my mother had an interest in the Templars...I had no idea she had done any digging into the subject. I looked up at Mr. Hitmarsh.

“You have exactly two minutes to get to the point at which time, you will leave or I will throw you out myself,” I said.

“Your mother,” he began, “did her graduate thesis on the Templars and because of her exhaustive method, uncovered a few snippets of the Dark Templars. She spent the rest of her career digging and trying to find the pieces of this ancient secret. She discovered the Baphomet...it would have been her greatest scholarly victory...had she not been murdered.”

“So,” I asked as cold as I can manage, “what would you like me to do.”

He handed me a safety deposit box key.

“Merely take a look at this,” he said, I acquired it from your mother without knowing what it was. If you look through this cache and find no reason to investigate further...then stop...but if you are interested, you will find leads enough to follow inside.”

And I sighed as I took the safety deposit box key. That was the first step...

Chapter 2: Moroccan Malediction

I would love to tell you the safety deposit box was empty...that it contained nothing more than a few photos of a loving mom, her husband and her son. I hoped it contained windows into another time giving me a chance to peruse the past, and wonder how that boy might have become someone other than me.

I would love to tell you that...but it would be a lie and I do not engage in petty falsehoods that serve no purpose. Other than a vacation photo or two tucked into an accordion file that could have only come from the '70's...it was all business. Notes about the Templars, interviews with experts on the ancient order and their place in the world, snippets of articles and pages of books that pointed to her discovery that there WAS such a thing as the Dark Templars...and that they spent much of their time doing their best to muddy the waters between themselves and the real Templars.

Most interestingly, was a snippet of an interview with Doctor Janet Wolters, a Templar expert who claimed that she had located a Dark Templar bolthole just outside of Casablanca, in Morocco. And so it was I found myself on a flight to Casablanca in the Kingdom of Morocco located in Northeast Africa.

Upon landing I was met by Maurice Marché, a black man of French descent and a man I had worked with on numerous occasions when situations brought me overseas. So it was he was waiting for me as I stepped off the plane.
“Logan,” he yelled as he stepped forward and hugged me in an embrace I was not prepared for. His skin was dark, he was bald and 7 feet tall. He smiled often and his size belied the effervescence of his personality.

“Maurice,” I choked, pushing him backwards, “I'm glad you count Morocco as one of your homes. I really need help on this one.”

“No problem, man,” he said with a large smile, “Casablanca isn't what you'd expect from your American movies..but, there is a lot here and it's all about knowing who to ask!”

“Meaning,” I asked, curious as to where this was headed.

“I spoke to Professor Robert Al-Ghaten, a local Professor at the University of Morocco here in Casablanca and he is aware of this bolthole as you called it,” he said walking me to the luggage pick-up, “He and his team will meet you at the hotel and he will give you a tour of the place.”

“You can be quite efficient,” I said, “When you want to be.”

With luggage gathered he led me to a small, battered vehicle which surprised me by starting and purring like a kitten. He drove me to the American Hotel where I had a room ready. I dropped off my things in my room, told Maurice I would see him at lunch and continued to review my mom's file on the Dark Templars. Before I knew it, there was a knock in my door and Maurice was on hand to take me down to Rick's Cafe, the restaurant located within the hotel where I got my first look at Professor Al-Ghaten. He was tall, exceedingly so with a face so angular that it looked like he might have been carved from stone. He wore a simple white thobe with a red fez. He smiled thinly when I arrived. He stood and shook my hand.

“RAGE,” he said with a smile, “I am quite the fan!”

“That's fabulous,” I said attempting to hide my distaste, “These days I go by Logan.”

“Of course,” he said, the grin never leaving his face, “So, Maurice told me that you are following up on your mother's research on the Dark Templars. It must be rough following up on something that the greater part of the world doesn't believe exists.”

“To be honest,” I replied, “I didn't believe in it until a man walked into my office a few days ago. He claims that there are those who believe the Baphomet is rising.”

A waiter came by and I ordered a coffee...which is quite a different affair than in the States. The Professor ordered a tea. He also ordered a chicken tagine that he wanted to share.

“There are certainly those who believe that,” he said, “but then again, there are those who believe the Devil is real and walks the earth...and not in the cool way like the show Lucifer.”

“You know,” I replied, “You know a lot more about pop culture than I expected.”

He merely shrugged, “Pop culture is a name for a collective of things liked by the masses, studying it says a lot about the society that deals with it. Look at it this way, in what is popularly called the Dark Ages, the Catholic Church was pop culture”

An involuntary shudder passed through me.

“So the bolthole,” I asked, nudging the conversation back on track.
“Think of it this way,” he began, “The Dark Templars never wanted to be known for what they were, what they wanted was to trade on being an actual Templar and thus then their actions when turned towards evil would besmirch the whole of the Templars, turning both the people, and more importantly the Church against them.”

“I got as much from my mother's research,”I said, hoping he had more to add.

“The bolthole was discovered early in the '70's,” he continued, “and was originally identified as a Templar safehouse...used when the church began to persecute the Templar. But it is too old, also, a secret room was discovered with several scrolls, all of which pointed to the Dark Templar. Much of that material is still questioned but as it is tested it begins to bear out that there were Dark Templars and they hid there so that they could make appearances as the Templar themselves.”

“Awesome,” I said, “so when can I see the place?”

“Your Friend Maurice is waiting to take us there now,” he replied with a smile, “my team has been preparing the place for your arrival.”

I finished my coffee and had a final bite of the rich and savory tagine and we headed outside.

We exited the restaurant together and found Maurice smoking the largest blunt I have ever seen (and remember, I hung out with Spice One briefly)leaning against his janky looking sedan. He opened the back door to let Al-Ghatan take a seat in back, while I sat in the front seat.

Maurice drove and even with his reckless driving it was still an hour drive until we were well into the countryside surrounding the city of Casablanca. Maurice parked the car along the side of the road and we walked into the forest.

“This place was found quite by accident,” the Professor began while we walked, “Two children found it while playing.”

“That's...” I began, “fairly creepy.”

“Creepier than you know,” Al-Ghatan replied as if he were speaking to his class, “It seems like the bolt hole had provisions for not only hiding out and the odd religious ritual, but for torturing as well...as if they were prepared to dig out information. To think of what went on in that place and have it discovered by children...it boggles the mind”

With that we came to the base of a mountain, the Professor led us around a boulder and walked into it's shadow and seemingly disappeared. Maurice followed him and I saw the trick. Hidden in the shadow of the boulder was a stone door that swung on a central hinge, soundlessly, closing seamlessly behind as you entered. The engineering of it was amazing.

Once inside, there were torches in sconces about every twenty feet.

“Your team spared no expense to make this authentic,” I said.
I wiped my forehead. It seemed very warm all of the sudden, and as the sweat leaked into my eyes, the torches seemed to have a glow around them.

“Well, to be honest,” he replied, “the sconces and the torches were here, it was merely a monetary decision to use them.”

As I walked in, I realized there seemed to be some moisture in the air, I cleared my throat to no avail. The hallway emptied into a large round chamber, clever wooden pegs had been hammered into one wall to use to hang cloaks, a small room off to one side seemed like it might have been fully stocked at one point as a larder. This looked like a good place to hide out.

“So,” I began, but my voice turned to gravel forcing me to clear my throat once more, “so...where did they do rituals”

The Professor led me over to one wall where a staircase going down had been cleverly hidden. Maurice and I followed him downstairs. The atmosphere seemed suddenly oppressive and I almost stumbled on the stone steps down.

“When did they stop using this,” I asked.

“Funny story, that, “ Maurice said.

“Oh never,” the Professor responded, “it's still used to this very day...”

That's the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness.

Chapter 3: Transformation

I came to suspended from the ceiling in a large wooden rack. Maurice, The Professor and several others I didn't know were surrounding me and the room was filled with the booming chorus of a strange chant. The floor of the room featured the traditional five pointed pentagram, pretty much the Medieval symbol of evil. The walls, what I could see of them, were adorned with pictures...after some time, I could see these were paintings of the breaking of commandments and deduced there had to be ten of them.

Across from me, strung up in what appeared to be the same wooden frame I was in, was what I at first thought was a burned corpse, but as I looked, I realized that it was something more or less. It was perhaps a figure of wood, a figure of a naked man that had at some point been set afire. But whatever it was, it's eyes were open and I swear to you that they were as real as yours or mine.

“You see, RAGE or should I call you Mister Polamolau,” Al-Ghatan said as he brought the dark statue closer to me, “For all your reputed studies, you simply don't know anything about the Baphomet. This is where you find the answers, though you may not like them.”

I felt an all pervading sense of 'other' begin to push it's way through my system. I felt like perhaps I no longer had much time to be me. The things eyes locked onto mine as a dark intelligence began to force it's way into me, pushing into my being layer by layer.
“As the Baphomet takes you over,” the Professor continued, “you will feel like you are being disassembled...unmade, and in a way you are. The Baphomet will find the essential YOU and reinforce it while discarding moral imperatives that have no right in thinking humans. You will be remade in the image of the Dark Lord and him you will serve while being the very Lord of reality.”

I wanted to scream but any control I might have had over my body was long gone. I could still feel the invading intelligence of the Baphomet as it made it's home in my mind and my soul. The part of me that was still human felt a pain and terror I never thought I could...but the part of me watching what was going on...it only watched, impressed by the efficiency of the organism.

“Even now,” The Professor exclaimed, “Your system is being evaluated, cleaned..., made ready to host the Baphomet...and he will bring darkness to this world!”

And suddenly, I and the Baphoment were one. A single mind, a united consciousness. And we were both united at the moment by the company in the room surrounding us. I strained and flexed and the wood and rope that surrounded me came undone and I dropped to the floor.

“Bow, fools” I cried, and grabbed the nearest cultist by the head driving my knee into his skull, “your reward is at hand!” For the next hour I beat, pummelled, grappled and kicked these men, splitting skin and breaking bones. I roared in pleasure awash in their fear and pain and blood. Soon I began to tire and I walked back towards the car. I was surprised that at some point I had had the presence of mind to take the keys from Maurice. I had just made it to the road and the sun was burning my eyes. I reached in and found a pair of sunglasses that I snapped open and slid over my eyes. I felt a cold sense of purpose washing over me as I pushed a button on my phone.”

“Page,” I said, “don't talk, just listen. I'm in.”

He might have said something after that...butI had hung up at that point. RAGE is the WORD. I AM RAGE! And the WORD will be spread.

Insert your Schticky BS Here

RAGE is walking through an airport in a black pea coat carrying a valise. As he walks a reporter ambushes him.

REPORTER: RAGE! RAGE! Can I get a word?

RAGE: I'll give you two...fuck and off.

RAGE continues to walk. The Reporter chases after him.

REPORTER: So, you're returning to XWF a place that you haven't been for almost a decade...any thoughts.

RAGE: None that I could dumb down enough for you to express.

REPORTER: But WAR GAMES! JAMES RAVEN! THE BIG FIGHT!

RAGE spins around whipping off his sunglasses.

RAGE: You want to know? Fine. Why XWF? Why now. Because a friend asked. The XWF ceased to exist as I know it a long time ago. The place that exists now may have a few familiar faces but so did the WGWF. So I don't consider this by any means a “homecoming”. This is a business relationship between me and the management of the current XWF. That's all I know and that's all I care about. The fans are idiots and how they achieve their spastic validation is beyond my concern.

As far as James Raven goes, I no longer know him and he certainly has no idea who I am. Say what you want of our vaunted fights and storied rivalries the people that fought those wars only exist on celluloid we have both evolved and I will stack my current evolution against any on the current roster and come out on top.

The past is the past and while it is a rudder that brought us to where we are currently...it is merely an origin story and we all change a lot from our origin. Just ask Batman...or Superman...or Kyle Shayne.

This is a brand new game kids and you will discover at War Games just how much I've evolved. Think you know me? You know NOTHING! Good day!

RAGE snaps his sunglasses back on and pushes the reporter into the wall. He sweeps past the camera and disappears.

A Few Words

Sat, 25 May 2019 16:38:10 -0700

The scene fades in.

In a dark portion of the gym, the bricks barely visible behind him, Ned Kaye stands alone. With a hand at his side, he takes a deep breath, his eyes peering past the camera and making eye contact with the viewers at home.

"I have a few words. Some things I would appreciate getting out there."

His tone is calm and focused as he steps forward, the light illuminating him more fully.

"I wanna start by saying a few things about myself, at the risk of sounding vain. See, I never grew up being a hotshot with a wealthy family or the common as dirt tough guy you find so often in this industry. I was a scrawny kid with a dream and the will to get back up when life knocked me down. Growing up wasn't easy or pleasant, it was a bloody struggle where I often felt at odds with my peers and those who would mold me into the man I am today. I can't tell you how many times I got knocked to the ground by a punk attempting to prove himself to his circle of friends. But I can tell you how many times I got up."

"Every single time."

"It's funny because you'd think that a guy like me wouldn't last in this business, wouldn't try after the first rejection. But I always picked myself back up. That's the difference between me and those who were born talented. Talented people want instant gratification and cannot stand the mere concept that perhaps life doesn't have to bow to then. Of course, not all talented people are like that, there's more going on underneath, but that's the exception. The rule is that if they don't ever have to try and someone forces them to, they often walk away. Because winning well is always easier than losing well."

He sighs, breaking his stare for a split second.

"I've lost. And I don't mean just some matches. I've lost a lot on the journey to the XWF. I got to witness the woman I would give up anything for be caught in a brutal trap of burning steel, clenched together through violent force. I had to bury the woman I love. And then, just months later, I learned that the man who laid the foundation of who I was as a person was now going to live the rest of his days with cancer. And I know, even through this match, that his days are numbered. It is a torment I can't fully express into words. As if every part of me is at odds. And yet..."

"Here I stand."

"Because I know deep down that he's going to be proud of the man I am whether I have a million title belts or none at all. And I can live with that. It'll sting just as badly, but I'm fully capable of still making him proud. Of making the supporters of mine proud. I've never view them as simple fans because they are so much more to me. Look at any other wrestler in this company and they'll likely give you a devil may care attitude when it comes to fanbases or supporters. I'm not that naive. They are truly precious to me and when I succeed I always want them to know my triumph is shared alongside them. Intentionally or not, I have become somewhat of a champion of my generation. Of the future of this company. Vincent Lane would have you believe that I ran into the locker room and started complaining and whining for a chance at the big belt, but that's because he is no faith in the future of the XWF. Why do you think he offered to put himself in a match at War Games? He can spin it however he likes, but the truth is that if he wants to teach me a lesson, he can book that match whenever he wants. But that's what my generation is viewed as. We inherit the baggage of a deeply complex world and are admonished by those in power because we dare to want to make a change. Like most of you, my last name didn't open any doors and I'm never getting an all expenses paid trip with the owner and his wife. I worked for what I am and I am constantly informed of why that is apparently a bad thing. I never won a championship in some other company, I don't have millions of dollars, but I have a voice. And this company may own my contract, but they don't own my principles."

Kaye's eyes seem to grow more intense.

"At War Games, my team is going that will really dig under the skin of Mr. Lane. We are going to prove that the old and guard and the new are equal, regardless of money and fame. Team Notorious will make the statement of the night. That ego for the sake of ego leads to defeat. That the future is brighter than a pale face caked in makeup."

"So, now that I have gotten that out out of the way..."

Ned rolls his shoulders, breathing in. He closes his eyes and centers himself before opening them again.

"Daniel."

"I don't have much to say about you really and that's the problem. You are the captain of your ship and it would likely operate better without you. I'm not anticipating any more words from you considering the worst you were able to say about me is that I have honor and respect. Real biting criticism there, Danny."

"What will always stick out to me, though, is your attempt to strike fear and doubt into my team, into me, into my supporters. You made that huge display of dominance and yelled "There's your indie hero! Right where he belongs!" And, you know what, Daniel?"

"I agree."

"On the ground is where I belong because that's when I get up, something you don't know a damn thing about. I don't mind having some compassion and some courage, but you act like it's some sort of weakness. But of course you do. The only courageous thing you've ever done is try to attack me in a match with someone else. I still won, Daniel. What does that tell you?"

"Bearded War Pig."

"I think you're a good man at your core. It's obvious you aren't exceptionally pleased by your placement in Team Daniel, but I'm sure you'll put your best foot forward. Maybe one day we can have a match man-to-man, leaving out the incredibly distressing overdose of egotism that you'll be surrounded by. Hopefully, your lack of faith in your team doesn't stop you from showing up."

"Rain."

"You are going to tear your team apart. You are evocative of why your team is doomed: internal conflict. Not only are you personally conflicted between the decision of dating your own sister or doing literally anything else, but you are at odds with your own team. Hell, all of Team Big D has problems with one another. Gilmour dislike you and Sarah, you actively antagonize Peter and your Team Captain, Lacklan doesn't like or respect any of you, it's a mess. I chose to draft a team of professionals who would show each other respect for a reason, because I wanted to avoid any chance of someone like you drowning an already burning building in kerosene."

"Peter Gilmour."

"Former Universal Champion. Former X-Treme Champion. Look at Peter Gilmour abd you will see something truly bewildering. For all intents and purposes, in a match with Gilmour you should he scared of his accomplishments. Hell, he's in the upper echelon of the XWF, in the Top 50 of all time, a true icon! And yet beating Peter Gilmour is a right of passage in this company. Peter loses both matches and his mind so often, it's hard to know how to properly react on most occasions. And while I truly do respect him as a wrestler, I've made it very clear that I'm already finished with being considered an outcast in this company. Losing is not an option, and considering Peter is the only man I know who would skip team practice to brag to his wife about how many women he can get, it doesn't seem to be a possibility either."

"And my final message is for none other than Sarah Lacklan."

"Sarah, some people see you and I as the future of the XWF. Now, at the risk of mirroring you and sounding blissfully arrogant, you don't have a future in the XWF. Not after War Games. Hell, not even after this promo airs. I am going to explain exactly why you aren't a threat so thoroughly that you'll never be capable of recovering in this business. I'm not going to insult your sexuality or your deceased father because they have nothing to do with why your career is about to be a passing mention in the history of my rise in the XWF."

"Let's start with one thing in particular: You want to pretend that you could stand toe-to-toe with the Universal Champion, going so far as to say Robert Main was scared to choose you as an opponent. However, in the passing breath you say he's lucky that you chose Thursday nights. Sarah, you won King of the Ring. You earned any title shot that you wanted and you chose one that wasn't even introduced yet. You had a clear opportunity to prove that you're truly unbeatable royalty and you didn't, yet you act like you should be praised for that."

"Sarah, oppritunity knocked and you cowered away. You're not Universal Champion material and if you really believed that you were you would have fought for it. Isn't that interesting, Sarah, how you claim one way and act another? You accuse others of copying their insults whilst you fall back on a select few immediate reactions of disgust and superiority and then praise yourself for being original. You say you earn everything on your own, but then you publish a magazine that exists solely to service your self-importance. You say I'm all hype and no follow-through, but when I get an opportunity to prove that I am as talented as I claim, I take it. More importantly is the fact that you choose to act this way."

"You're not mentally ill or stupid. You choose to be a complete hypocrite. You make a concious effort to treat everyone else like literal gutter trash while shielding yourself in a small bubble where you can pretend you're flawless. And then you spend a discomforting amount of time revering yourself instead of training or learning useful facts about your opponents. And why should you? You're privileged position has lasted you this long, right?"

"No more. No more of your gutless threats. No more of your idiotic narcissism. No more Queen of Anarchy. If you're going to continue wrestling with any amount of dignity after War Games, you're going to have to start developing that person behind the eyeliner, Sarah. Because at War Games, I am going to personally make you tap out. I am going to look directly into your eyes and let you know that flaunting your wealth and social standing will no longer do anything for you. And for the rest of your career, you'll get to know that what beat you wasn't someone with a belt or an undefeated wrestler. No, you got bested by an honest and honorable man who sees you for what you are. A bird who'd prefer to be locked in her comfortable little cage for her whole life instead of embracing the winds."

"On behalf of everyone who has to work for their position; who has to live a life of rewarding struggles, I'm going to crush your cage and your ego, Lacklan. And not you, nor any members of your team will be able to prevent me from doing it."

Ned lowers his fiery demeanor, opting instead to reclaim his calmness.

"All that said, I don't want to end this on an aggressive tone. No, I have a lot to be thankful for. And that is exemplified perfectly by my teammates. Those who will stand alongside me and face war itself this Sunday."

"Mastermind. A man who thinks through his opponents because he knows brute force is half the battle. But more importantly than his skills or accomplishments, is the man he is. He has suffered personal tragedy and unspeakable pain I genuinely hope no person on this planet will ever feel again. And yet, when such an evil thing happened, he won the X-Treme Title a third time, becoming one of a handful of wrestlers who have managed to do so! His career is far from over and, if you ask me, he's bound to be the first person in this company to have four X-Treme title reigns! Mastermind isn't over the hill or a relic from a bygone era, he's climbing beside all of us and he doesn't intend to stop this Sunday!"

"Unfortunately, it seems Thaddeus Duke is unavailable. No matter. I knew his integrity from the moment I drafted him, so I am certain whatever is holding him is serious. I wish him the absolute best in his endeavors."

"Edward. Though to the passing eye, he may seem to be thoughtless and destructive for the sake of it, Edward is a human being nonetheless. Yes, he has power. Yes, he may not bathe much! But he handled being drafted with ten times the grace of Sarah Lacklan and he is a proud member of Team Notorious! Not to mention, Daniel knows he can't beat Edward without outside interference, so what you'll witness tomorrow night is the culmination of the the blood rivalry these two have. I trust in Edward to finish what he started and, most importantly, Edward trusts in Team Notorious."

"Luna Hightower. Though her ultimate ability is dangerous, though she's looking out for number one, Luna is a professional for a reason. She fights with a tenacity that can't be learned and has been the heir to a technique that could potentially lay waste to Team Big D in seconds. However, that ability could be pointed our way and in that circumstance, I will personally lay my life on the line to defend my teammates. Her ability can kill, but I refuse to let that happen. If anyone has a chance of dying to Luna tomorrow night, I will do my damndest to ensure it's me. However, it may not even make it to that point, because Luna understands Daniel well having fought at his side before, so she and Edward can easily dismantle their team's head. Luna has my respect and I trust her with the safety of my team. I can think of no higher praise."

"Respect."

"You earn it or you don't. One team is filled with a group of people who respect each other fully. And the other is an alliance that will crumble as soon as the team's star breaks a fingernail."

"Do I need to say more?"

This Means War!

Sat, 25 May 2019 16:38:05 -0700

4th May 2019
Saturday Night Savage
Bud Walton Arena
Fayetteville, Arkansas

The scene opens with Curtista in the backstage area of the Bud Walton Arena. Curtista had his microphone in hand and his logo appeared in the bottom corner of the camera. Alfie was typically recording the footage. Curtista begins to talk to the audience.

Curtista: "Hello XWF Galaxy and welcome to Curtista T.V. Do you remember Scullycam? Well this is similar, except a lot a better cuz I'm on it. Hahahahahahaha.

Jokes!

I love you really, Scully. Everyone knows Scullycam was good… Anyway...

Here we are on Savage, in what was not exactly an action packed show. However, one match stood out from the rest. Two men went to war, England vs Germany. Scully took on N.A.Z.I. They have just been in a gruelling contest, where blood was spilt and bones were broken. The fans gasped in horror as they witnessed two men trying to kill each other for their entertainment. Either one man would survive or both would be buried in the middle of the ring.

And they sarcasm is the lowest form of wit? I say sarcasm is excellent.

Let's see how Scully is right now?"

Curtista walks down the corridor and stops outside a locker room door. Scully's name appears on the door. Curtista gestures sssshhh to the audience before turning the door knob and entering the locker room.

Skull is nowhere to be seen. The camera pans around the locker room. A shower can be heard in the background and it stops. A fully naked Scully walks out, needless to say he is well endowed. He hears loud laughter. He notices Alfie holding the camera and Curtista still laughing, Scully quickly picks up his towel and struggles to wrap it round him.

Curtista."A special treat for you ladies out there and men, of course. Can't be homophobic these days."

Skull has his towel wrapped around him now.

"You could've knocked? Curtista T.V should be banned after that. Using a wrestlers exposure to get ratings and likes. Cheap."

Curtista:"Don't be grumpy, mate. Alfie had the zoom on…"

Scully can't help but smile. Curtista gets closer to Scully. He begins to talk in the microphone, which also has the "Curtista T.V" logo on it.

Curtista:"So first question, why the hell you having a shower? It's not like you had to do.. Well… Anything?!"

"I just fancied one. Is that okay with you? I mean I might as well make use of the facilities considering I came here for nothing!"

Curtista: "You came here to entertain.. Which you did. Thank the Lord, you cut a promo after your match. So Scully what do you make of N.A.Z.I no showing tonight?"

"I respected him after our first match. He was the XWF Television Champion at the time and we had an epic battle in which, he was victorious…

But after tonight? I wouldn't put water on him if he was on fire.

When I got to the back, I looked for him. Let me tell you now, he certainly wasn't here. However, he is the king!"

Curtista: "King? Isn't that a compliment?"

"The king…. THE KING OF BITCHES!

He knew this time around he was going to receive a beating. Rather than take that beating like a man, he didn't even show up. He just did the Robbie Bourbon!"

Curtista: "The Robbie Bourbon? That a thing now?"

"It is! If your someone talks shit about you but hides away like a bitch… That's the Robbie Bourbon! If your opponent doesn't show up.. Then that's… The Maverick… But you get my drift!"

Curtista chuckles to himself as Skull grins like a Cheshire cat.

Curtista: "I take it Robbie Bourbon annoyed you tonight with his little shenanigans?"

"At the time, yes! But that's what he wants. He likes to play mind games. He likes trolling me on Twitter but can't show up to an arena like a man!"

Curtista: "I get what you mean. I've read his Tweets but I'm pretty sure you've owned him…

Anyway, next for you is the XWF extravaganza pay-per-view, War Games? I hear Robbie Bourbon will be involved, maybe you can get your hands on him then?"

"Maybe so. It'll be my luck I'm on the same team as Robbie "Mother Fuckin' PUSSSAAAAY" Bourbon.. Time will tell.

One thing for sure, is whoever has Scully on their team… Has a gem!"

Curtista: "Well we'll leave that there then buddy… I mean Scully. I can't be biased now can I?! Fuck it, my show, my rules.. Now get some fucking clothes on, you dirty bastard and let's go to the fucking pub!"

The scene fades…

War Games Draft Conclusion

The War Games draft had concluded and everyone had witnessed the names being named by the captains of the four team's involved. Scully's name was on the list and his name wasn't chosen until the end. The very last pick, the very last name and a member of TEAM BLACKWATER.

The War Games pay-per-view card was announced and the match will be as follows;

Team Deacon

Deacon

Tony Santos

Luca Arzegotti

Double G

Sam McPherson

- vs -

Team Blackwater

Donovan Blackwater

Lux

Robbie Bourbon

Brian Storm

Scully

Elimination Style Match

The camera's focus was pretty close in on Scully as he sat comfortably, in a chocolate leather recliner chair. His hands rested on his lap, his legs up and he relaxed. He smirked before opening his mouth.

"Ladies and Gentlemen you probably think Scully should be hacked off right? Nobody picked me. Donovan Blackwater never really had a choice but to have me on his team. He chose to have Brian Storm. He picked Lux and he even chose Robbie "The Fanny" Bourbon. But me? Well he was the last captain to pick and I was the remaining superstar who was left.

Should I be offended? Hurt? Did I cry myself to sleep leading up to the pay-per-view? The answer is…..

NO! Of course I didn't!

I'm not offended, of course I'm not hurt and no, I didn't cry myself to sleep every single night. I didn't cry at all! When everyone is talking about Scully after War Games is over and how I was STILL the last one standing, then they will be the ones who will feel foolish. Then it will be the captains on the other teams who will be gutted, it will be on Deacon's head that he didn't pick me at free will and our team smash his shitty, little rejects to a pulp because they have Mr. Unpredictability... Scully.. Mr. Underrated. Misterrrrrrr Untouchable.

Donovan will thank his lucky stars I am on his team especially when we will have to carry the likes of Robbie Bourbon. The struggle is real but in the end, it will ALL BE WORTH IT!

It does make you question the intelligence of the captains the XWF put in charge of picking this years teams, doesn't it? I mean look at the roster members involved in this one. The ones who were chosen before me. Just look at them. Oh look at me… I'm going to pick Luna Hightower. Wooooo.. I really want to win and that bitch is going to help me to achieve victory. She's done fuck all… Thaddeus Duke? Didn't you see me throw his shitty ass off that scaffold not so long ago? Huh? But hey ho.. He gets picked before me. Even fuckin' Rain. Rain. You know I said I wasn't offended but I've changed my fuckin' mind, ya'll lost your mind. I'm embarrassed. And who in the hell is Edward? Edward Scissorhands? What the actual fuck, fuck, fuck!

I beat the guy who pays your wages in Vinnie Lane for the Uni, cuz I am a former XWF Universal Champion. A former XWF Xtreme Champion. Was my C.V not good enough? Did it not fulfill your needs?! Hey, look I'm gonna ignore that Scully guy, he already has at least 2 victories on his War Games record. Bravo. Bravo.

You need not to worry, Donovan. I am a team player. I have been part of successful stables here in the XWF, some not so. Everyone forgot The Union?! I have been in tag-teams, hence why I am a three time XWF Tag-Team Champion. With three different partners including Robbie "Fanny" Bourbon. Yeah that's right, the guy on our team. Sure, I can put our BEEF aside for War Games, so you need not to even question that! But let it be known, if Bourbon tries any funny business, he will be dropped.

The pay-per-view is fast approaching and my opponents are shitting their pants, waiting in anticipation for me to own them. Well the wait is over, I am ready to make them feel even more like rejects than they ever did before.

So first of all we have a gimp looking, motherfucker in the name of Sam McPherson. Wow the name itself; Scary! I mean when you hear the name Sam McPherson, you think shit, I am toast. I am burnt toast. My toast just fuckin' incinerated! Then you see him. Wow. What a monster?! He looks big, he looks angry and then… Well, then he wears a gimp mask because his mum brought it him for being so fuckin' ugly! Have you ever wondered what a sex slave who gets his ass whooped by his own mother looks like? Now, you have. He looks like some Hills have eyes bitch who lives in his mum's cellar! And his name is… Sam McPherson. Even this fuckin' tool was picked before me, he hasn't even scratched his own ass yet in the XWF.

Then we have, it's me, it's me, it's just that plain bitch, Double G. Who the fuck iz dat guy?! Yeah I stole a Conor McGregor quote, sue me!

Double G, a blast from the past, apparently. Yes, he has passed his sell by date. Another big, , looking mother kanucka, who's going to pretend to be all angry and butch, until he is SCULLANATED! Fuck him. Times have changed, you can't just look the part nowadays, especially not in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. You can't just walk around with your steroid looking body, thinking it's gonna be an easy ride. Nope. God of Grapple, my ass! God of Getting his ass kicked all over the War Games arena by Scully!

Luca Arzegotti, how are you old friend? How's that bum chum of yours? Ya know, Austin Fernando? Is he dead? I recall me and some guy called Chris MacBeth beating both you and Fernando for the XWF Tag-Team Championships. Do you remember?

Luca Arzegotti Said:Here's the truth, Scully. You and Chris? You are riding Tush's coattails. It's obvious. Everyone can see it. Two fuckin' nobodies at best suckling on the teat of the Intercontinental Champion. That's why you're so adamant about Austin being a dickrider. Because you're one and that tears you up inside so you think that maybe if you throw that accusation at someone else, it somehow absolves you of any dickriding shenanigans.

It doesn't.

You fucking pathetic, spineless, insecure fuck.

Oooh… Look how angry she was back then. Luca had her knickers in a twist. The insults, the threats and guess what happened people?

Fernzegotti got owned and then disowned. Well ya boyfriend did anyway. Scully and Chris MacBeth, the coattail riders beat them. Isn't that correct Luca? We beat you back then and I am going to beat you again! Where you been hiding? In Fernies bedroom?! Do you still go around calling people Fuck boys? It was cringe back in 2016 and even more so now! Let's be honest, you haven't been the same either!

Tony Santos, the gift that keeps on giving. You're so entertaining, you have people jumping out of their seats every time you speak. Yet, you've been in the XWF how long? You've never really reached the top of the pedi stool unlike myself of course. One day in the near future, you may be a top superstar here. Not so sure though seeing as you've already been here like six years or so and you still haven't been the XWF Universal Champion. Is that not something you want? Something you want to achieve? Cuz I bloody well do, I will reign again. I'll be honest with you, you're the only one on your team that I am bothered about. Truly, honestly. Still doesn't mean I won't slap the taste out of your mouth. You're Team Captain should be ashamed for his lack of leadership and I hope the XWF never let him captain a team at War Games again!

Speaking of the captain, Deacon. You said when the live draft was being drafted, of course and your team was being announced, that I will find out who you are. Well I am not impressed with you and like I said before to you, I hope I do find out. Oh wait, I know who you are. You remind me of someone that I used to know. His name was Pest and he was peodophile. You're a nonce too ain't ya? I can tell, just by looking at you. The sort of freak who sits outside schools watching the twelve year old boys walking to their parents cars. The sort of guy who hides in drains like Pennywise and offers kids balloons, just so you can bum them. You ain't no captain, you're a sham. A waste of energy, a waste of life. A waste of the captaincy privilege. You'll find out what it's like to be SCULLANATED!

This means WAR!

Da End, Scully Has Spoken!"

22nd May 2019
Scully's Home
Miami, Florida

The scene opens with Scully sat in the living room area watching Season 2 of Cobra Kai, episode 5. To be honest, he had already watched the series, so I guess he liked it that much, he had to watch it again. Aston was playing with his Wrestling figures as Skull looked over at him. Scully watches Aston with the figures and hears his sons shout....

Aston: "Sculllaaaanator"

As the Scully figure drops the red Power Ranger on his head, Aston puts Scully on him...

Aston: "1.....

2........

3"

Scully won. A smile emerges on the real Scully's face, not the plastic figure. It sure was a change from Aston making his own dad lose all the time. Aston looks up at his dad and grins.

"Who did I pin, son?"

Aston: "Dickhead!"

"Dickhead? You shouldn't say that word son. So who's dickhead then?"

Aston: "That guy you're a fighting."

Scully nodded. It could be anyone, especially when he'll be in the ring against five other opponents. The key turns on the front door and Scully knows full well who it is. He gets up and goes to help Natalie with some bags of shopping. Aston runs into the hallway too, to hug his mummy.

"So what crap did you buy today?"

Natalie: "Clothes. Clothes. And more clothes. Don't worry, I got you a t-shirt.

"Just a T-shirt? Tight git!"

Natalie: "Ungrateful sod. I got Aston some things too. And I got something to wear for you tonight."

Nat winks at her man and kisses his neck. Skull smirked wondering what it would be.

Natalie:Anyway before I show you the stuff. A van was following me for ages. Call the police!"

"I ain't calling them. Fuck that. I'll go and look."

Skull opens the front door and notices a van across the road, the driver looking at his house. With Skull nearly being ran over and a van watching them at their local park, needless to say, he was paranoid. Skull rushes over as the van driver gets out of his van holding something. Scully grabs the mixed raced driver by the scruff of the neck and has him up against the van. The van driver is shocked and shaking...

"So who the fuck are you?"

Van Driver: "Amazon, sir."

"What?"

Van Driver: I have a parcel for you from Amazon."

Skull feeling a little embarrassed, let's go of the delivery driver and brushes him off.

"My bad. Apologies."

The delivery driver passes over the parcel and gets Scully to sign his little electronic thingy, shakes his head at Scully before getting back in his van and driving off. The recent events in Scullys life was certainly making him paranoid.

Hitch-Hiking

Sat, 25 May 2019 16:09:14 -0700

He rumbles in the passenger seat of a car huddled up against the door as the rickety old Mercedes bumbles along the road and M.D.K. looks uncomfortable as the driver happily trundles along. The camera slowly pans from the passenger side towards the driver and we see the cause for concern. A dog that is allegedly an Alsatian but looks more like a fucking wolf sits between the pair panting happily while licking its chops as it stares at M.D.K.

M.D.K.: “Is he… is he safe?”

Driver: “Я научил свою собаку кусать только чернокожих мужчин!”

He roars with laughter and M.D.K. looks at his phone for a translation.

M.D.K.: “I have no idea what you said but it sounds racist so I think I’ll leave it there…”

He turns to view the road ahead and the dog leans in and licks the side of M.D.K.’s face who looks disgruntled.

M.D.K.: “Regardless of potentially getting fleas, ticks and rabies, I’d like to thank you for the ride.”

Driver: “Нет проблем.”

M.D.K.: “How fan can you take me?”

Driver: “Я отвезу тебя в Томск, и тогда мой друг поможет тебе.”

M.D.K.: “Not a fucking clue but I heard the word Tomsk. That’s great. I can sort something for myself from there…”

The driver wiggles his finger and smiles again.

Driver: “Нет нужды. Мой друг отвезет вас оттуда.”

M.D.K.: “Why do I feel that you can understand every word I say and yet you continue to answer everything in Russian?”

The driver simply laughs and reaches over to M.D.K.’s side of the car and slaps his knee to move it out of the way. M.D.K. obliges and the driver opens the glove compartment. He takes the bottle of vodka from inside and M.D.K. can’t help but notice the handgun in there that he thankfully leaves there before closing it up. He takes the lid from the bottle and takes a large mouthful before offering it to M.D.K. who raises his hand to decline but the driver furrows his brow and thrusts it into the chest of the WGWF alumni who reluctantly obliges and retches at the taste.

M.D.K.: “Fuck me that tastes like methylated spirit! You could strip paint with that!”

The driver once again laughs and proceeds to drive with his knees as he pours some into his cupped hand and offers it to the hound who eagerly laps up the spirit and then turns to M.D.K. as though it were calling him a pussy for retching. The journey continues but M.D.K.’s eyes grow heavy after a while and he drifts off to sleep.

---

It’s several hours later and night has fallen. The car has stopped at a run down service station and M.D.K. continues to sleep but is abruptly woken by the door opens and M.D.K. lurches sideways until he catches himself awake. He glances up at driver who gestures for him to climb out of the car and as he obliges, he shoots a glance at the glove compartment and can’t help but wonder if the gun is still there. He stands by the car and lights a cigarette as M.D.K. rubs his eyes and looks up at the rusting sign before checking his watch for the time. He briefly glares at the camera until the legend appears to makes things clearer for all of us.

Somewhere just outside Tomsk, Russia - 3am. 16th May 2019.

M.D.K.: “What the hell is this place?”

A figure makes his way across the cracked and worn tarmac and also lights up a cigarette as he casually walks across towards them.

M.D.K.: “Fucking hell, does nobody in Russia care about Health and Safety.”

?: “Mr M.D.K.? It is truly an hour to meet you.”

M.D.K.: “How the fuck do you know who I am? What’s going on?”

This man is smartly dressed in stark contrast to the driver who is clad in peasant brown clothes. A smart long black coat frames a silk shirt as he approaches while drawing heavily on the cigarette. He response glides towards M.D.K. on the smoke he exhales.

?: “Forgive me for the abruptness of the meeting but Sacha here may look like an oaf, may be the oaf of his village and may have not been quite right since he worked three years clearing up fission reactors but he still knows a celebrity when he encounters one and I for one couldn’t wait to meet such a mass of beef.”

M.D.K.: “Listen up…”

He pauses to learn this man’s name.

Fedor: “It is Fedor… Fedor Tym-”

M.D.K.: “Listen up Fedor I-don’t-care-about-your-surname-ov… I’ve been abandoned at a prison, licked by a fucking dire wolf straight from Game of cunting Thrones, given paint stripper to drink and sat in a car for nearly thirty fucking hours so forgive me if I don’t want your fucking life history. Where the fuck am I, what the fuck are you doing here and why the fuck are you talking to me like some informant from The X Files?”

Fedor simply laughs and raises his hands to the irate Englishman.

Fedor: “Danny, please… relax a little. What you have gone through this past few days is not your regular Russian hospitality. Allow me to make up for impatient taxi drivers and over-eager canines…”

He gestures to the driver who reaches into the car and withdraws the handgun from the glove compartment.

M.D.K.: “Wait how do you know about-.”

He hands the gun to Fedor who points the gun at the dog who is oblivious to the commotion and M.D.K. goes from curious to fearful in a heartbeat.

M.D.K.: “Whoa! Whoa! Chill the fuck out! Don’t shoot the fucking dog! Calm down!”

Fedor shrugs, lowers the gun and throws it to Sacha who fumbles with it before catching it and tossing it into the car carelessly.

M.D.K.: “Look, just let me know what the fuck is going on and how I can get home. I have places to be as you may be aware.”

Fedor: “Ah yes, the festival of decadence being held in Moscow. XWF will be treating Moscow like a cheap whore and will leave her in a state…”

There is an awkward silence between all three men... and the dog.

Fedor: “And I fucking LOVE IT!”

He laughs and stares at Sacha as he does who joins in with the laughter and M.D.K. simply stares at them both.

M.D.K.: “Will somebody… for the love of fucking Mary, Joseph, Jesus and Allah tell me what the BLUE FUCK… is going on…?”

They both stop laughing and Fedor takes another drag of his cigarette before continuing.

Fedor: “You know, some might say that you are a little uptight… do you have Russian blood in you?”

M.D.K. tilts his head and offers Fedor nothing except an incredulous look. Fedor raises his hands and continues.

Fedor: “OK… I will cut to… as you Westerners say… the cheese…”

M.D.K.: “It’s chase… cut to the chase…”

Fedor: “… You English… you make me laugh! So yes, Sacha brought you here with a reason and I have to be honest, I need a man like you.”

M.D.K.: “Look, if this going to turn into a Taken style fuck-fest, I’m not into that kind of thing. Sorry…”

Fedor: “Nonsense… I need you to… deal with something for me…”

M.D.K.: “Sounds ominous…”

Fedor: “I have a nephew… Big fan of the fighting and has been getting a reputation as a bully… I need to teach him the error of his ways.”

M.D.K.: “And you think asking a man who has made a career out of bullying people is the best person to do this for you?”

Fedor: “I don’t need you to teach him a fable or tell him a story… I need you to teach him a lesson…”

M.D.K.: “Look, I’m kinda pressed for time so I really would love to help but I don’t have time to travel to another obscure location, sit backwards on a chair and teach somebody like some hip teacher…”

Fedor: “No travel necessary…”

He holds up his arm and a large articulated lorry becomes illuminated. M.D.K. looks up with his mouth agape.

M.D.K.: “Looks ominous too…”

Fedor holds his arm out and walks towards the back of the lorry.

Fedor: “Please, follow and allow me to show you…”

Fedor leads M.D.K. to the back of the lorry and explains during the short walk until they reach the back of the lorry.

Fedor: “You see, I have been reading up on scaring children straight and I was hoping that you would be able to do that. All I need you to do is climb into the lorry, and rough him up a little… It won’t take much and then I will come in and lecture him a little…”

M.D.K.: “And then I can go to where I need to be?”

Fedor: “I have your car booked and I promise you it’s better than Sacha…”

M.D.K.: “What’s the kid’s name?”

Fedor: “Yvgeny… And I never said he was a child…”

M.D.K. looks over at Fedor in a confused manner as two burly men swing the doors open of the trailer and a pair of steps unfold. M.D.K. tentatively climbs up and into the lorry when lights slowly flick on and M.D.K. can see a few people lined either side of the lorry baying. M.D.K. approaches a seated man with his back to him.

M.D.K.: “What the fuck is going on?”

Lights illuminate the inside of the trailer as a roar of the engine kicks into life and the figure with his back to M.D.K. stands up to his hulking, impressive full frame. He’s a good 6’8” and must weigh about 300lbs and he’s smirking wildly as the crowd start shouting and jeering. He squares up to M.D.K. who struggles to keep his balance as the vehicle starts to move.

M.D.K.: “Easy there big fella… a little bit of personal space if you will…”

Yvgeny: “Я тебя раздавлю”

Crowd Member: “He says that he will crush you!”

M.D.K.: “Oh really? I hadn’t fucking worked that out from the look in his eyes and the advancing fucking nature!”

The lorry rounds a corner and Yvgeny wobbles but remains on his feet although M.D.K. can’t do the same and stumbles onto all fours.

Crowd Member: “Yvgeny has balance like mountain goat… very rugged…”

M.D.K. sighs and climbs to his feet and as he gets to one knee, drives his forearm into the groin but Yvgeny is unmoved by such a manoeuvre.

Crowd Member: “Yvgeny has very tough scrotum… like mountain goat… very rugged…”

M.D.K.: “Does he have anything that isn’t like a rugged fucking mountain goat?”

Before the man can respond, Yvgeny has M.D.K. by the throat and spins him around before launching him across the length of the lorry which is still clearly moving. M.D.K. climbs to his feet and Yvgeny is upon him but M.D.K. swings a right that connects but doesn’t move the hulking Russian an inch. Yvgeny simply smiles in response and grabs M.D.K. by the throat before lifting him up into the air. M.D.K. kicks his legs before reaching out and drives both thumbs into the eye sockets of Yvgeny which squeezes a horrifying scream from the beast of Eastern Europe… Yvgeny whimpers on the floor as a sweating M.D.K. slips his shirt off and smiles between pants.

M.D.K.: “Right you Kremlin cunt… time for a lesson comrade…”

He advances on the still whimpering Russian as the camera pans to a wide shot of the truck winding its way along Russian highways.

--

A forest in Russia - 6:30am - 16th May

The truck has stopped as the sun beams through the trees early in the morning as Fedor stands before the doors and nods at the two burly men open the doors up and there is initially nothing until the now bloodied t-shirt of M.D.K. is thrown into the face of Fedor who quickly removed it from his face and then looks on in shock as a sweaty, bloodied and exhausted M.D.K. steps from the shadows and stumbles down the steps before walking straight up to a terrified Fedor.

You owe me a vehicle and a laundry service…

He snatches his t-shirt back as he walks towards the escort vehicle and climbs into it and signals for the driver to move on….

---

Moscow - 11pm - 18th May

Chris Page is sat in an armchair in the bar of his hotel with a large cigar lit and a look of calm across his face. He has his phone in his hand and is dialling a number and awaits an answer as he hears a commotion from the lobby and cranes his neck to get a better view as the call goes to voicemail. He leaves a message.

CCP: “Look, I’ve not heard from you man… get back to me as soon as you can… what the fu-”

A startled receptionist hands a key over to the familiar figure of M.D.K. who is looking exactly how we left him 48 hours previously. He staggers through the lobby as a bellboy emerges from a side-room with his luggage that he had assumed had gone missing earlier. Page jogs up to his friend with a baffled look on his face.

CCP: “Danny… what the fuck happened?”

M.D.K.: “I should have jet-pooled with you…”

CCP: “Danny?”

M.D.K.: “I’ll see you in a few days…”

M.D.K. climbs into the elevator and allows it to close as he waves weakly at a still baffle Page as the doors close.

---

Still Moscow - 24th May

We find M.D.K. sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room and is wearing just a towel. A woman wearing naught but lingerie is tending to his wounds until M.D.K. clearly gets his cue and with that, he ushers her away and a familiar smirk creeps across his face.

M.D.K.: “Peons, peasants and pissants… you’re welcome… You’re welcome for the bounty of which you are about to receive. You’re welcome for the fact that I have graced you with my words not once but twice ahead of this monumental event. You’re welcome to look upon me and take stock of your own pathetic, meandering existences…”

“You see, I had heard all the tales about the XWF for years having been a part of the WGWF for so very long and had always wondered if the grass would be greener but having seen what had come to us and realising that it didn’t amount to shit, I stayed away… And now I’m here… I regret nothing… and not only that, but I see why you have injected me straight into your main event. Because without the like of Page and I… what have you got other than those four sorry sons of bitches sat opposite us at the top table at War Games…”

“So apparently, I haven’t just beaten just one of the Four Must-be-Cunts previously but I’ve also beaten two of them! Although I’m gonna be honest Centurion, I have no fucking idea who you are and you can spout shit about the crowd not knowing me, the boys in the back not knowing me… but you fucking know me don’t you sunshine? You know what I can do, what I have done and what I will do again to you in the very near future. I had to be reminded who you were and how badly I had beaten you in the past because when you have been around like I have, the faces of the feeble tend to blur into one big blob of mediocrity… and yet… you go on to profess that nobody would know me if it wasn’t for Chris Page…”

“Remind me, was Chris Page there when you fucking choked against me last time? Was Page there when I dominated each and every company that I have set foot in. Not your fly by night federations but the biggest and the best league, federations and tournaments. I dominated, decimated and destroyed each and every fucking mortal in my path and you Centurion, were just another victim. A run of the mill victory against another slab of meat.”

He smirks and tilts his head as a though crosses his mind.

M.D.K.: “And to think, that slab of meat can find himself in a main event here along with two generic bitches whose name sounds like a fucking roofing company and a man who has been beaten by me on so many occasions, I feel that I should start charging him for his pleasure and for my agony of having to endure the same old shit from him time and time again.”

“Jimmy Pigeon, Jimmy Ray, That’s So Raven, Stark Raven Mad… Insert bird based pun here… Do you know what the definition of madness is? It’s following the James Raven model of being excited about fighting me once again only to already understand what the result is going to be time and time and time again. I’ve seen your schtick before Jimmy. I’ve heard the puns, listened to you put on the Scrappy Doo tough guy voice, heard you sound like the bastard love-child of Deadpool and Daria minus the wit and I’ve watched you cower before me like a bitch. At what point will those pretty little synapses in your brain flicker into life and allow the penny to drop that will tell you categorically that you can’t fucking beat me. It’s not bad luck, it’s not the venue, the ring or the weather but rather your own, hopeless ineptitude.”

“And in amongst the mass of mediocrity, we have the also rans… Like runners up at the Special Olympics, Main and Archylde are not only losers but are fucking spastics to boot… The pair of them have been granted here into the main event based on what I can only assume to be a pity placement or at the very least based on the fact you ended up holding some gold by chance as though you accomplished something significant.”

“I mean Robbie can at least harp on about his own individual accomplishments but what can you do Drew? I mean the grip you must have could be considered industrial because for you to have held on to Robbie’s coattails for all this time deserves some recognition.”

“You Drew, are that work-shy little shit that every single 9-5 drone encounters at some time in their dreary careers. The one that skirts by and does the bare minimum and yet manages to accrue fame and glory despite doing fuck all. That’s you Drew. While Robert tries… and boy does he try to generate an iota of interest in his dull as fuck cadence, you just float on by, boring people into submission while you remain deathly pale due to spending your pitiful existence in the shadow of Bobby beside you.”

“Stack the four of you up and you have one half decent professional… The trouble is, you might think that you are a unit and that combined you amount to something more that average but this isn’t the Power Rangers. You won’t combine and become a massive fucking robot and you won’t amount to a hill of shit up against one of us. So how in the fuck do you stand a hope in hell against four of the deadliest mother fuckers in this business. I’m going to be frank with you, it’s at this stage of the story I’m supposed to tell you three little words that expose you for what you are… I’m meant to call you inferior, stare into the camera and it fades out… but you boys aren’t worth my time…”

He leans forwards and clicks the camera off abruptly…

Let's get historical -War Games RP

Sat, 25 May 2019 15:29:59 -0700

The camera comes to life. The Boston Bruiser is standing in the middle of the Stalingrad Battlefield in Volograd, Russia. Behind the Boston Bruiser the view of the empty field stretches for miles. The camera zooms in on the Boston Bruiser as he begins to speak.

The bloodiest battle known to ma[/b]n took place right where I'm standing. From July 1942 to February of 1943, over 2 million lives were lost on this battlefield alone. Historians call it the turning point of the war. The Germans were defeated by what the Russians called "General Winter." To this day they are still digging up the skeletal remains of Germans and Russians as well as bullets and shell fragments from the various weapons that were used during the fight. If Hitler had just done his homework and paid attention to history he could have easily beat the Russians. However, instead of leading with intelligence, it was Hitler's ego that lead a million Germans to their death. All Hitler had to do was crack open a history book and read about a tiny little man named Napoleon. Napoleon, unlike Hitler, actually captured Moscow but because of the war of attrition that the Russian soldiers were carrying out and because of the harsh Russian Winter, eventually Napoleon would end up retreating back to Poland and eventually France.

Ironically enough, tomorrow night's PPV is titled "War games." And like the famous battle of Stalingrad, War Games is going to be a bloody fight to the finish. There will be carnage, there will be bodies laid out all over the Luzhniki stadium, people are going to get hurt, we might even see the end of a couple careers. It's going to get ugly, I'm talking 4 way between Rain, his sister, his mother, and Jo their hairy transsexual mail MANish ugly.

I got a call yesterday from our esteemed leader Vinnie Lane. Apparently they found a spot for me on the War Games card. He told me to get on the next flight to Moscow ASAP. Little does he know I was already on my way here. I came into the XWF like a gay pride parade, loud and proud. I apparently broke protocol by challenging 3 different champions and making myself heard around the locker room of the XWF. It upset many of the talent, and I do use the word "talent" loosely. However, just like I made it known over the last couple of weeks, I am not going to just sit around twiddling my thumbs and whistling Dixie. I refuse to be a spectator. That's why I went after Lux like I did. That's why I went after Ed and John Rogan. I'm out to make a statement. I had planned on making a statement match or no match this weekend, it looks like I'll have that opportunity twice.

Now getting back to history, a majority of the wrestlers in the XWF fly by the seat of their pants, they're running their mouth, and yet when it comes down to put up or shut up time they all end up looking as useless as a one legged man in a butt kicking contest. They don't put any effort into studying their opponent, they're not watching the game film so to speak, they're going in like Stevie Wonder and Helen Keller's love child.

This is what separates me from the herd. If anybody had the right to be cocky and arrogant it would be me. I'm 6'7 400 lbs, I could just go into the match and wing it, and 9 out of 10 times my size might get me through. However, eventually my laziness would catch up to me. I would start to get sloppy in the ring. I could be caught by surprise and then I end up with a losing streak as bad as Noah Jackson's. It's this fear that pushes me to continually hit the gym, train in the ring, watch the matches of my opponents, read up on who they are and where they are coming from, and discover their weaknesses so that when I actually do face them in the ring I'm 5 steps ahead of them during the entire contest. I can exploit their weaknesses and before you know it they're tapping out or down for the 3 count.

Now, unlike a majority of the stuperstars going into War Games, I have a slight disadvantage. Every body else knows who their opponent is going to be but I don't. Now, I am not complaining. I am use to being treated unfairly. I am use to others being given what they don't deserve (cough cough Lacklan). Fortunately for me, I have been watching the tapes of every man and woman who will compete in War Games. I have been researching their history, their losses, their pitfalls, and their mistakes, I know what makes them tick, I discovered how to get under their skin, and I plan on using it against whoever I end up facing at War Games.

Here's what I discovered on some major players who will be active at War Games.
Centurion-Here we have a washed up fired CEO who couldn't even manage to be successful in the urine bowl of the United States which is Atlantic City. How pathetic do you have to be to fail at anything in that cesspool? His nightly routine involves getting drunk and playing hooker roulette, where his big prayer every night is "Please help her to not have a penis." His body is about as broke as his bank account. He's so badly bruised and injured not even the AARP will sponsor his geriatric behind. You don't stand a chance against me. I'll do what the leadership should have done years ago and put you out to the pasture . Sorry Ole Yeller your time has come and gone like 20 years ago. There is no way your fragile feeble body can take the beating I will give it. You're 1 jackknife away from sucking apple sauce through a straw. Go ahead and try smart bombing me, your spine will shatter like broken glass.

Peter Gilmour- The man is always telling people to suck his dick. It would be easier for Ray Charles to find Waldo in a room that's pitch black than it would be for anybody to find your dick. Maybe that's why your wife left you. You're life seems to be a giant guide on "How to be a worthless failure." If Atlantic City is America's urinal then that would make Los Angeles America's septic tank. Nothing but sleazy con men, crackheads, and whores and that just describes you. You and your Harry Potter reject manager Valerie . She's threatening to cast spells on me? Really? Does she have to start every spell with the phrase "Hocus Pocus"? Does she have a spell for male pattern baldness? That's a spell I could definitely use. If I end up in the ring with you two tell her there's a 400 pound house that's going to come crashing down on her. I might not be able to turn her into a frog but like a frog she will definitely croak. From the Oscar Award winning movie "Monty Python", What do we do with witches? BURN THEM! Peter, there's no way you're carrying out your Samoan drop against me. Your drop kick will be useless. I'm going to leave you beat down, hopeless, and miserable.

Mastermind- You're a regular Quantum Leap with all the time traveling you do in your promos. I don't know if you're in the 90's, early two thousands or current day. One thing is clear though, you apparently have mommy issues. My mom abandoned me when I was just a child, I built a bridge and got over it, maybe you should do the same. You have a losing streak longer than the Cleveland Browns and you just thinks that so unfair. I think Little wittle Mastermind just needs himself a time out. And don't even think you're going to make me tap out. There's no way you're getting me in that position at all. While you sit around complaining and whining I'm putting in the hard work to make sure I don't end up like you the XWF jobber.

Robbie Bourbon- You're cartoon image looks a lot different than your image from the Youtube video you put out in January of 2017. From that video it's visible that the only gym you're hitting is the Slim Jim. You've been around for a long time and just like Centurion you are broken, injured, and frail. Go ahead and step in the ring with me, this will be the worst disaster you've faced since your dojo burned down in 2015. I wish you would put out an honest representation of yourself instead of that cartoon. I've seen more muscles in a Kansas City Seafood Diner than I saw on you in that video.

Robert Main- what a sad state of affairs when your wrestling promotion's Universal Champion is a man bun wearing Latte drinking social justice warrior. I bet you're the kind of guy that freely volunteers to get pedicures with your love interest. Hands that soft tell me you've put in no hard work to get where you are. This promotion seems to have a history of giving people titles that don't deserve it. If you can find some spare time between protesting global warming and the murder of defenseless cows I'll gladly volunteer to take that Universal Championship off your shoulders. I'll make quick work of your metrosexual self. Then the XWF can finally have a champion they can be proud of.

Vinnie Lane- There's a saying that goes "Don't bite the hand that feeds you" and as much as I appreciate your help Vinnie, if you even think about getting in my way I'll kick your butt back to he 80's where it belongs. Vinnie, you're like the poster child for venereal diseases. The rumors are you would hump anything with lady parts. Where's your "I went to Alaska and all I came back with is crabs" t-shirt? You might be what 150 pounds soaking wet. I'll just swing you around by your lice infested hair right out of the arena. Forget what Nazareth said, you're going to be singing
Boston Bruiser hurts
Boston Bruiser scars
Boston Bruiser wounds and marks.... you get the point.

Lacklan- ole Jinga Legs herself. She represents everything that is wrong with this younger generation. She's the one you love to see fail and you get tired of listening to. Lacklan, one perfectly delivered Boston Crab and it's beep beep rolling around in the Walmart scooter for you. "Oh I don't offer any offense, I just stand there and let them come to me because of my daddy's training I know how to counter most moves." That's the problem, you're use to standing around and doing nothing and letting everybody else do the work for you. For someone as ignorant as you, you sure do use the word "genius" a lot. Didn't anybody tell you not to use big words you don't know the meaning of? Marketing Genius...what market is it exactly that your the genius of? The Dollar Tree? You better pray to Plutus that you don't end up facing me. I'll put the full force of my weight on your ankles till I hear SNAP and leave you crawling around the ring like a crippled Chinese orphan. I'll then grab you by those broken ankles, pick you up and swing you into ever metal object I can find. It will be so brutal, ugly, and sad Clint Eastwood will direct your life movie. From Hillary Swank to Ratchet Skank.

Edward- I can't decide if you're from the stone ages or just stoned. I absolutely embarrassed you at the last event. "Ed got his butt kicked. Ed was in severe pain. Ed should learn to no mess with big angry man. Ed, should retire, and become a poet because Ed is good with words." I guarantee you that you haven't even overcome the injuries I caused you last time. Go ahead and try for round 2, I'll send you flying back to whatever rock you crawled out from.

Tommy Gun- Knowing is half the battle G.I. Joe! Look at you playing dress up that's cute. Unlike what you faced in the Middle East, I'm not some turban wearing goat humper. After 5 minutes in the ring with me you'll wish you were back at Fort Brag running through an obstacle course in 100 degree humidity. Try me and it will be you we commemorate on Memorial Day. None of your training prepared you for the abuse that you will suffer at my hands. Your career will end up being as big as a failure as your father's NFL career.

Ned Kaye- With wrestling moves as lousy as the New York Yankees I don't expect any competition from you. From what I learned about you from watching your tapes, you don't know how to handle the big guys. I am your kryponite. Your moves are designed to take down guys half my size. You don't possess the ability to beat me. You're like Batman without his utility belt or Kanye without the Kardashians. A kick in the gut, a monstah slam, and a wicked pissah should finish you off no problem.

And for those of you who I didn't mention, don't think for one second I'm dismissing you. I'm prepared. I've done my homework. I am ready for War Games. I am ready to shut the mouths of those who have come at me. I am ready to get a win under my belt. I will do whatever it takes to win. I'll drag in tables, chairs, and whatever I can get my hands on. Even more important to me than winning is making sure I hurt my opponent. I don't just want a pin I want to break some bones. I want to make somebody suffer. I'm ready for War Games. I've studied the history and unlike Napoleon or Hitler, I will be victorious in Moscow.

Of Workouts, Video Games, and Fanny Packs

Sat, 25 May 2019 14:32:29 -0700

“Are you SURE about this, Rox?”

“Oh, definitely, bb. I REALLY want to work on my form, or something.”

*****One Week Ago*****

Roxy Cotton checked her phone as she pretended to work on the exercise bike. The multi-time #ForeverChampion was known for some intense cardiovascular health, and an ability to go to extreme distances when wrestling or playing football, but most realized that the vast majority of her exercise came from dancing. While she didn’t perform on stage anymore, she still kept up with the art of dancing and teasing, and a slender waist and visible abs were the evidence of her dedication. As such, she didn’t really need to put in the extra workouts with the girls, but she still liked spending time with everyone. Well, most everyone.

“AND ANOTHER THING!”

She slowly blows out a bubble as the banshee’s screech of her friend Sarah split through the air in the gym, causing people to jump and weights to clang to the ground in surprise.

“How DARE you not have ALL of the weights I want! I canNOT beLIEVE that you DON’T have three quarter micro plates! What is this, some third world country? Did I get transported to Connecticut, or something? For fuck’s sake!”

She let the bubble pop and didn’t bother taking her eyes away from her phone. Sarah was the dreaded combination of diva, drama queen, AND spoiled rich brat, known in some circles as “The Paris Hilton Effect,” so these kinds of things were pretty commonplace when they all went out. The barista didn't put the H on the end of her name? Sarah screamed. The aisle seat wasn’t available at the movies? Sarah screamed. The restaurant didn’t have three different identification stickers to show that they were ultra organic? Sarah screamed.

“Cool your tits, babe!”

Roxy smirks as she hears her sister in #Clarity admonish the brat, which does bring up her green eyes. Kenzi Grey had her braids up into two balls, which made them kind of look like the little pom poms that the script called for Kid Kenzi in their next movie, and Roxy’s fingers twitched. She wants to touch Kenzi’s hair SO BAD. Just a little touch. That’s all! But she had been specifically forbade that by both members of the Grey-Lacklans, with Kenzi firm about never touching a black woman’s hair, and with Sarah having a superior smirk on her face and lots of suggestions about how she LOVED to get her hands all UP in Kenzi’s hair whenever she wanted. Whatever. She liked to remind Sarah that they were eskimo sisters and see her pale face turn green.

“Um...Kenzi? I think you meant ‘jets?’”

Roxy smiles broadly at Angie. Her best friend...and someone she dreaded having to break soon in UGWC...was clueless when it came to many things, and so she probably DIDN’T know the phrase in the way Kenzi used it. She loved Angie because of stuff like that.

“FINE! God. How am I supposed to work on this squat booty without the proper equipment?!”

Roxy rolls her eyes as Sarah continues to make a scene, but the girl finally cooled down. The two of them had had a mostly contentions relationship in the nearly two years they knew one another, and most of that was due to them being too similar. They were both strong-willed and stubborn, and both loved Kenzi, though certainly in different ways. Roxy had gained influence on Kenzi from early on, and that had pissed Sarah off beyond belief, and while they had never really talked about it, it had been an issue between them for a long time. But an incident at Sarah’s step-mother’s house where Roxy had accidentally gotten high and fallen out of a window had left Sarah in genuine tears of concern, and the two had patched up much of their issues. Well, some of them anyway. And-

Roxy’s thoughts come to a sudden stop as she realizes that much movement around her had frozen. Several gross guys were on bikes and treadmills, each more fat and sweaty than the last, and all of them had stopped what they were doing and were staring. Guys did that a lot at the gym, of course, but this was pretty drastic. Roxy follows their line of site and sees that they are staring at the rear end of Sarah, who had begun a deadlift session. The girl was strong, had always been, and had regained a good deal of the muscle the car accident and time in the wheelchair had cost her, and her rear, the #SquatBooty she liked to talk about, was mostly on display due to her position and the very little pair of shorts she was wearing. And as she continues her workout, the guys staring and drooling, a light bulb goes off in Roxy’s head. A light bulb quickly followed by the sound of a cash register.

CHA-CHING!

*****Present*****

Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan, known professionally in the wrestling world as Sarah Lacklan, stands before the bar in the power rack, her eyes closed, her breathing measured. Dressed in scandalously little, Sarah’s muscles push out from her pale frame in the light of the gym as she clenches and relaxed her legs and abs in preparation of the lift. She wears a sports bra tight enough to leave little to the imagination of what lies underneath, as well as a pair of shorts so tight as to seem painted on, both black with red flames along the border. She flexes her feet, both without shoes and wrapped in white tape along the arch, then slowly presses herself up to her toes in a releve, her calves popping out with a tremble, her rear tightening. She then slowly lowers herself back down to her flat feet, leans forward and down to place herself under the bar, and then lifts up after her fingers find purchase on the beveled surface. She backs up a few steps, pulling the bar free from its rack, then opens her eyes to make sure she is standing straight and tall.

“...this is all...um...perfect…”

Behind her, Roxy Cotton records the workout with a camera, the letters “DGP” written across the side. She had zoomed in on various body parts as Sarah prepped for the lift, capturing every curve of the girl.

“...this will really help with my...er...form. Definitely.”

Sarah opens her mouth wide, her famously bright teeth shining briefly in the light, as she takes in a large breath, her stomach distending before collapsing as she engages her quads. She lowers herself down into a squat, her rear falling below the line of her knees, and Roxy’s camera zooms in on her lower half, catching every inch of the barely-there workout clothes. Sarah exhales the breath as she pushes back up, her legs straightening at the top, before taking in another breath and repeating the process. A third. Fourth. After the fifth, Sarah pushes forward and slams the bar back onto the rack, leans down and back, and comes back to a standing position. She breathes hard for a moment, her ghostly white face flushed with the exertion, and closes her eyes.

Standing behind her, Roxy takes a moment to look around. As before, there were quite a few schmoes slobbering over the obscene sight of Sarah working out, enjoying the view of a hot athletic girl making them all look weak. Roxy’s plan to use this footage as part of her cam network was a secret for now, but she had a pipe dream that it would lead to what she REALLY wanted from Sarah: An entire revenue stream based around the sexuality of her notorious vlogger friend.

*****Too many instances in the past to count, literally just plucked one at random*****

“Listen, bb, I’m not say you two FUCK on camera all in-depth or anything, I-”

“No.”

“There is a HUGE audience for-”

“No.”

“What about just your feet. I bet-”

“No.”

“But you guys would make a KILLING in the interracial lesbian nude wrestling market!”

“No.”

“Okay, okay. But...and I'm just guessing here...don't you already HAVE a video of Kenzi dominating you? In your private collection?”

“..........”

“See! You could buy a LOT of shoes with that!”

*fingers momentarily twitch*

“No.”

“Oh, come ON!”

*****Present*****

Roxy recorded Sarah’s workout for her later “instruction” and “learning opportunities” with an increasing crowd surrounding them. Squats turned to overhead presses which turned to deadlifts. Roxy almost felt sorry for the one guy, who couldn’t have been older than 17 or 18 and had probably never touched a girl, who had to hide his crotch as he ran for the bathroom. Once again, the dollar signs filled Roxy’s eyes and the sound of the cash register run in her ears as Sarah’s workout make men of all flavors and sizes unabashedly look at her.

Despite herself, Roxy was impressed, as she always was when working with Sarah. The girl was pathetically short, with both her AND Kenzi only being 5’2”, but she packed on a lot of weight on that frame, most in her lower body. Sarah had shared the story...many, MANY times...about how her father had allowed her to start working out with him on her fourteenth birthday, and by the time they met a couple of years ago, Sarah was a surprising brickhouse that people didn’t anticipate when they saw all the shockingly ugly dresses she wore. Roxy knew that Sarah’s fashion was part of her mind games, as no one expected a legitimate world class athlete to be dressed for a New York fashion show, and it was effective. People assumed she would be a flyer, perhaps would flip sixteen times in the air or something, and then their eyes bugged open with she caught them with her right hook, or with her Shining Wizard, and then often found themselves tapping out immediately when she hooked in her crossface chickenwing and grapevined them to the ground.

Roxy hadn’t known Sarah for terribly long before the accident, though. Just a few months. They didn’t like each other then. At all. They were catty with one another, and sometimes even antagonistic, and all she really cared about when Sarah ended up in a coma for a few days and later the wheelchair was that it upset Kenzi. Though, Roxy did her part as a member of the Cool Kids: She SarahSat once, and even helped give Sarah’s podcast the biggest spike in views it had ever had by doing her camshow on her network.

Roxy had been there for Sarah when she went through rehab. They worked together, trained together, and she saw Sarah go from needing heavy braces on her legs to being able to move without them pretty darn well. She still wore them, of course, and likely would for the rest of her career, at least if she was smart. But in the last year or so, she had seen Sarah gain back much of what she had lost, if not all of it, and it was pretty inspiring.

She hated admitting that.

There was an audible groan of disappointment when Sarah finally ended her session. The girl looked up, her face glowing with exertion, with a look of curiosity, but all of the schmoes around did a great job of suddenly doing other things and looking at other places. Sarah looks at Roxy with a questioning lift of one of those annoying perfect eyebrows of hers but she just gives her a shrug.

Roxy couldn’t help but notice how old Sarah looked right then. No makeup and covered in sweat, she was hardly the “Blood Princess” who typically wore so much “war paint” as to seem a raccoon cosplaying as a geisha, but there was more to it than that. Two deep lines cut into her face from the corners of her eyes and along her chin, as well as tiny crows feet pushing away from her weird red eyes, all of which made her look far older than her 21 years. The last year and a half had two major blows to Sarah, first the accident and then finding out nearly a year go that she was infertile, and it clearly showed on her face. Roxy had taken so much birth control since she burned away her previous life...a life so hard that she refused to talk about it to even the rest of the girls...that she doubt it was even physically possible to have kids...not like she wanted the sniveling brats...but Sarah did. In a twist of irony, Kenzi, who had little desire to have children, something to offset the burning desperation for them that Sarah had developed when her clock started ticking louder than Big Ben announcing the hour back in December of 2017, had agreed to children in five years, at a time when they would be largely done with being wrestlers.

And then Sarah learned of her cysts.

Even Roxy had shed tears over the news that Sarah’s life would literally be in danger if she went forward with her plan to have children. Apparently, it ran in the family, as her own mother had died due to complications giving birth. The same complications that Sarah would likely have.

It was not surprising that Sarah’s face had aged so much.

Freshly showered and shoved into one her stupid dresses, her face again covered in what seemed like half a container of base and an entire eyeliner pen, Sarah was ready to go to lunch. Roxy chose one of the vegan restaurants that had already passed the rigorous standards of Sarah previously, because she did NOT want to listen to Sarah go all Orange County Soccer Mom with “I’d like to speak to a manager!” today, and they got their food to go since she had a lot of work to do at home. The smell of organic tofu was wonderful in her car, even IF Sarah had gotten the “Almost Chicken...maybe?” plate. Sarah wasn’t WOKE like she and Kenzi were, though she was at least trying for her wife’s benefit, so that was at least nice of her. Roxy let Sarah drive, as she usually did, though she noticed that much of the lessons she had taught the girl were being ignored. She wasn’t even speeding! Sarah had rambled on about wanting to actually pass the test this time, or whatever, but Roxy got bored and stopped listening.

Lunch in the Pink Palisades with Sarah was both a chore and treat. While the Grey-Lacklans had moved around a bit in the last two years, they had ultimately put roots down in West Hollywood, only an hour or so from her and Vinnie. This meant that, even with their busy schedules, the four of them were spending a lot of time together in various groupings and pairings. Sarah was fun to have around for the sheer inanity of how she acted, but that also meant her constantly complaining about how her and Vinnie didn’t have anywhere NEAR the amount of servants they should for a place as big as the Palisades. And the more Roxy listened to Sarah complain...loudly...about how wonderful it was for people to handle things for you, like she had when she was growing up, and like she somewhat had with her Legion of Interns, it started to make the idea more and more attractive.

But much to Roxy’s surprise, the conversation of this lunch went in a direction she never would have seen coming.

Sarah had grown quite as Roxy looked over paperwork for the club. Roxy was looking over numbers, and a smile creeps onto her face as she thinks about the suddenly quiet Sarah. For all of her intelligence, math was NOT Sarah’s strong suit. Even beginning algebra seemed to make her eyes glaze over! But she stopped perusing the dancers’ totals from the night before when Sarah spoke up suddenly.

“...I’m sorry that I was such a bitch in LAW.”

Roxy looks up from her paperwork and rose her eyebrows. They had discussed this before, had gotten over...mostly...how they used to treat one another. But as she opens her mouth to say as much, Sarah continues.

“...I was jealous of you.”

Sarah looks up and true sincerity shines in her eyes.

“My Beloved never seems to see when someone is flirting...or even when blatantly is trying to make a move on her...so it’s up to me to always stay vigilant. Not because I don’t trust her, of course, but because I don’t trust other people when it comes to stuff like that.”

Roxy gives her a small nod. They didn’t like talking about it, but someone, an old friend, had tried to sexually assault Sarah once.

“And in the beginning, a lot of my anger towards you was because I thought you were one of them. And lets face it: You’re older and more experienced. Your taller. And...well...rounder in certain areas...even IF its not EXACTLY how God envisioned you…”

Roxy’s mouth tightens at that.

“...but I was genuinely afraid. Without Kenzi, I’m…”

Her eyes begin to shine.

“...I’m nothing…”

Surprising even herself, Roxy leans forward and grabs her smaller friend in a tight embrace. After a moment, Sarah hugs her back. Roxy is filled with an odd mixture of surprise and flattery...and a bit of...what...glee? Happiness? There was more she could dig for, here. More she could mine. Perhaps-

“OMG WHAT IS THAT?!”

Roxy grimaces in pain as Sarah suddenly screeches in her ear. She pushes Sarah away, fingers already moving to her temple to fight off the coming headache, and she hears Sarah get up off the couch. She opens her eyes and focuses on Sarah to see what she had found and picked up:

The latest copy of the XWF video game, WARFARE.

“Oh, that’s just-”

“I WANNA PLAY!”

Before Roxy can even move, Sarah was already skipping...literally skipping, with her ponytail flipping back and forth like in a commercial for Alterna’s newest caviar-infused shampoo...towards their entertainment center. And even faster, Sarah busts out that ridiculous Windows phone of hers and-

“C’mon! Time to clock in!”

~~Presenting the PrincessTwilightSexyFang podcast, as viewed on CoolTube~~

HIIIIIII-iiiiiiiiii!

This is Sarah Lacklan….

………

I SAID...this is SARAH LACKLAN

*an audible sigh*

...marketing genius…

MARKETING GENIUS! And I’m here with one of my uber bestiest of besties, Roxy Cotton and….woah! My viewers just shot through the roof!

Gee, I wonder why…

Weird. N-E-Ways, one half of the #CoolKids are here today for what is going to be an EPIC Let’s Play!

Hold on, bb. Let me go get my Cross-Semici-

I TOLD you to drop that bit, Rox. Little blurry, “friend.”

But-

I beat Lucy freakin’ Wylde by over .2 while you couldn’t even get .05 over Rydell. Want to keep going?

.............FINE. Whatever.

So! As you can imagine, once the execs in the XWF realized just how MUCH of a commodity they had in me, they decided that the BEST thing to do was to throw a SHIT-TON of Sarah content into the game! In fact, I JUST recorded a commercial for the game a couple of days ago...though you would not BELIEVE the adventure that I had afterward...lets just say that it included PTSD, drinking a fat guy under the table, reminding Rain...again…that kissing your sister is a BAD thing...and a TON of new shoes.

That last part sounds like fun.

Oh, it was! But holy FUCK do I need to hide that credit card statement before Kenzi sees it! N-E-Ways, most of the work I have been doing for the game is basically being featured in an entire overhaul of the system. For instance, ya know how the majority of the game’s “Road to Shane’s Respect” mode is basically about how much scat pics you can put up while celebrating incest? That shit is GONE! Instead, based around MY career and KILLER takes on wrestling, its been changed to the “Road to Becoming a Worthwhile Company...THANK YOU, QUEEN SARAH!” Like, they didn’t REALLY need to include that last part, but its sweet, nonetheless.

Another MAJOR change in the game is reversal mechanics! The system WAS based on Mastermind’s run as Xtreme Champion, wherein all you have to do to kick out of a pinfall attempt was to, like, breathe, or something, but NOW, thanks to my KILLER reversal skills, the entire SYSTEM is different. See, through the use of those body sensor things...which might be used for some OTHER activities among the nerds who make the game…

Ew.

...my reversal and counter skills have been incorporated. Something trying to punch you in the face? Press a few buttons and BLAMO! You can catch their arm, drive them to the floor, and lock in an armlock. Someone trying to bring you up and down with a big powerbomb? Use up a stored special, do a fireball motion, and SPEW! Purple mist to the face and you’re on your feet, ready to go. Hell, someone pinning you? Bust out that stored special, do a complex series of button presses (please consult my 27-page powerpoint presentation which comes with the newest DLC patch) and BOOM! Pigeonwing!

I thought someone said your moveset was lame, bb.

Craxy what people will say when they are clutching their pearls, huh? N-E-Ways, ANOTHER update you got with the game is that now EVERYONE has up to FOUR different outfits for their character, because the designers are SO blown away by my Firestarter Brand of clothing-

Cotton’s Candies is the best part.

-that they knew just having my ALTS in the game wasn’t enough! They needed a PLETHORA of my killer color schemes in there, too! Black and red-

Maybe Kenzi will stop crying now

Green and gold, SO MANY COLORS! And what’s fun about THAT is now you can all KINDS of color when you do some of those “lets press random and play a Leap of Faith” match session.

Probably the only way anyone ever chooses Tommy…

Axly, that’s who the new “Winner Gets to Jerk Off in the Loser’s Shoe” match is for

...I hate you…

Now, as I mention in the commercial, there are a TON of tiny updates and bug fixes, so the game should be a LOT smoother now! So without further adieu, lets play! I am, of course, going to be one of my MANY alts included in the game, and Roxy here is going to VINNIEFIED EVELYN LANE YOU PUT SOME CLOTHES ON RIGHT NOW

Dude?

NO JUST WEARING A FANNY PACK DOESN’T COUNT AS PANTS

Dude! Dude dude.

ROXY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MY EYES ARE BURNING

...ugh, you are SUCH a drama queen. Vinnie, bb, I’ll meet you in the spa later?

Dude.

Thank you! OMG WHY IS YOUR BUM COVERED IN WHIPPED CREAM?!

Like you’ve never-

PLAYING VIDEO GAMES NOW

Alright! The FIRST matchup for you guys today just SO HAPPENS to be between two members of opposing War Games teams? Craxy coincidence, huh? One one side, we have the Thadmeister, who is...let’s face it...perhaps the BIGGEST disappointment in the entirety of the War Games promotional cycle. Yes yes, I KNOW that a BUNCH of you fedora-tipping tryhards are going to bust out “ACTUALLY, M’LADY!” and talk about Rain making out with his sister for weeks on end, but at least he’s DOING something! And seriously, like kissing your cousin in backwoods Connecticut-

wait

wait

All those fucking bug fixes and they STILL missed that typo?! Jesus, CHRIST! Whatever. Missing...kissing...same thing…

N-E-Ways, people LOVE giving Rain shit for his, lets be honest here, gross-as-FLAME romantic interests (though Centy really needs to avoid making up shit on Twitter...Rain is gross enough as it is and doesn’t need the embellishment, tbh), but at least he’s here! Thad has been so busy having incestuous orgies with the rest of his sloped-forehead, bucked-tooth, cross-eyed inbred family of insanely rich scholars/heads of secret organizations/probs a few other test tube babies to remember that he has been booked for this thing. Hell, he’s been SO busy gettin’ it on with some human/hog hybrid in a barn while one of his aunts plays a romantic little ditty on a bango for the mood that he hasn’t even posted one of his shitty college sports takes on Twitter!

I suppose the moral of the story is this, and this goes out to EVERY person in the XWF:

Stop taking shitty-ass newbies who haven’t done SHIT in the fed and making them feel important by booking them in all of the matches they beg for. Stop letting Kid Kool book his own matches. Stop letting people with one or two matches get a Hart or Television title shot. Stop letting unproven lowercard attractions like Ned get WORLD FUCKING TITLE MATCHES. And stop letting someone like Thaddeus over here be treated like something other than he is, which is a dude who is barely holding onto a .500 record and cannot...cannot not….CANNOT cut a promo to save his FUCKING LIFE unless he can do that shitty copy/paste routine, just because of his NAME.

Yes, I’m a second generation wrestlers. Yes, my last name means something. Hell, both sides of the hyphen do! But did I join any of the companies where my father was a member of the hall of fame? NO! My very first match was in a fed where I didn’t even KNOW anyone outside of a few jests or quips through social media! I forged my OWN path, made my OWN name, and ADDED to its legacy, and didn’t just suck at the teat of what has come before me. And unfortunately for Thad over here, it seems that the teat has run dry.

So! In celebration of the sheer shitbag Thad has turned out to be, I’ve chosen to bust the Mysterious MIKO who competed in a Masked Tag League a couple of years ago! And in a new update to the game which has brought in some Mortal Kombat deaths, I’m going to slice his head off with a couple of razor edge fans!

Hmmmmmm. Up next is Mastermind! Old dude with an ugly hat. Now, last time around I kinda-sorta made fun of him for only being able to find relevance when he had his chick speaking for him and when he can internal a craxy dude killing people for shitty reasons, and this time around-

-well-

-nothing much has changed, huh? Like, seriously, unless something REALLY big happens for him to be able grab onto, he just doesn’t have much depth to him, ya know? He’s one of THOSE GUYS. Like, seriously, without the opportunity to wait until the last moment and base every single thing he has to say on what everyone else is doing (AKA: the “bitch” gimmick here in the video game), he’s just a bag of fluff. Legit, less than a THIRD of his LAST promotional video for this thing was even about anything anyone cares about! I’m not the best at math or anything...fucking hated that shit in school...but I’m PRETTY sure that THAT equation sucks ass!

Now, I DO know that not EVERYONE can be like me, ya know? Not EVERYONE can research their opponents thoroughly and know what they are going to say, or how they are going to train and prepare, ahead of time. The people who CAN’T do that DO have a place in this business. Of course, that place is at or near the bottom, obvs. That place is with their shoulders pinned to the mat and their eyes glazed over as they stare up at the lights. And that is Mastermind’s default, unfortunately.

“But-”

No buts on this, baby birds. Mastermind is the guy who has grandiose thoughts but little in the way of content. He’s probably got this massive entrance planned out, where he, like, comes down to the ring on top of a Flying Magic Mastered Your Mind T-Shirt, with his girl riding shotgun as they sing A Whole New World with some shitty modern modulation to the voices like in the new Aladdin movie, and there’s a row of kangaroos doing a kickline, and confetti balloons. Crowd goes nuts for them in an explosion of light. And it’s AWESOME.

And then the bell rings.

And all he’s got is a couple of kicks and punches.

Which they did AWESOME in the game! Legit, the crowd starts booing as soon as he throws one of his old man punches, and then half of them fall asleep when they show in inset compilation video of his XTREEEEEEEME KIIIIIICKOOOOOOOUTS, and even Mastermind himself just kinda stops doing stuff because he’s bored HIMSELF with how BORING he is.

Luckily for the crowd, that’s where The Pirate Queen comes into play! While I’m not exactly going to apply the “Swap me deck, ye scurvy harlot!” Super Finisher on him (that one’s private!), but I WILL be ready and willing to make him walk the plank when it’s time. I expect to see him near the end of the War Games match, since he DOES some REAL losers on his team, but not at the very end. He just doesn’t have the depth for that.

I recently analyzed Eddy’s lack of momentum, and how he got ghosted by it, and unfortunately for him, he kina proved my point the last couple of weeks. He had a chance! He had a shot! He could have come in with GUNS BLAZING and shocked the world! Instead, he did exactly what we expected of him:

He kinda forgot that he was in a match.

This happens, ya know? When it comes to people who are BARELY THERE, keeping their heads above water, you tend to lose focus. And while I DO appreciate his support of the Lingerie Football League (GOOOOooooooooOOOOOOO HITGIRLS!), I do NOT approve of him blowing off much in the way of his responsibilities for it. Speaking as someone who does a LOT of different ventures, I know VERY well what it is like to be pulled into different directions, but UNLIKE yours truly, Eddy doesn’t seem capable of handling it all. And that’s just not going to cut it.

Make no mistake: I LIKE Eddy. I like MOST of my Anarchy subjects. They love ME as their Queen, ya now? Its just that I’m so...so…disappointed? Yes, that’s the right word. I’m the Mumsie who is disappointed by one of her baby birds only doing half the work at school they are supposed to. I’m the Mumsie who KNOWS that her baby boy can do SO MUCH. He’s SO SMART. He just forgets to turn in his homework, ya know? But he knows the answers, teacher!

But he doesn’t get the grade.

The game designers did a good job of translating him into Warfare. He’s brutal, with primate strength...and has a 50% chance of not showing up with you choose to play as him. Nice touch! For myself, I decided to bust out Darth Sarah, because FUCK that Star Track nonsense that Kenzi watches!

While I expect Thad to be out of the War Games match VERY fast...if he can even put his cousin down long enough to make it to the arena in the first place...Luna isn’t going to be far behind. Because she did exactly what I said she would do: Blew off work for as long as possible, mumbled a few words that were based off a level of research that amounted to the barest of glimpses at some public profile pages, and then clocked out as soon as she could. And much like Eddy’s inability to handle more than a couple of activities is not going to cut it against someone like me, the same goes for Luna: Being barely there is going to result in a massive L being placed on her chest.

This seems to be the theme for Team Ned, ya know? Thad gets placed into some important matches even though he’s barely there. Mastermind is wholly outclassed because of how little attention he pays to the business. Edward’s daftness is often too much for Thurston to compensate for. And Luna is so sidetracked by tiny details that come nowhere near the whole of her opponents that he placement in this match is basically to be as fodder. But then again, I axly KNOW that because I axly KNOW my opponents. Unlike Luna, here.

Now, I’m SURE that she is going to just focus in on her Inner Badass and go all Rambo on everyone. Probs toss out some lines like “You drew first blood” or about a need to save a missing private, but we all know what is AXLY going to happen. See, she’s going to end up going face to face with me, the person who made the Blackwaters look dumb, exposed Corey for what he is, made Eli leave for ANOTHER rebirth, proved that Dolly just didn’t have it in her, and triggered a “badass” in record time without even trying. She is going to go deep into that well...deep into that “weakness” of hers...and go from “I would like to rage” to “I use RELENTLESS RAGE,” become exhausted when she realizes that her gun STILL doesn’t have any ammo in it, and then just kinda fall onto her back.

That’s why I chose Sarha as my character this time. Because Luna’s rudimentary skills aren’t even developed enough to beat up 15-year-old me.

People feel sorry for Big D. His inexperience in the fed shown through as he assembled our mottle crew. He didn’t know about how distracted War Piggie gets. He didn’t realize how...well...GILLY...Gilly can be. He didn’t realize exactly WHAT he was getting in Rain, though the people who give him shit for passing on Scully should realize that, at least at the time of THIS Let’s Play, the Scullmeister has amounted to a big fat zero. But! People need to start feeling sorry for Ned, too.

I know I do.

I GET what it is like to THINK that you are WAY better than you think you are. I mean, I don’t have the problem MYSELF, but I HAVE heard people talking who could empathize. Nedward was all SET to take the fed by storm! He was hyping! He was tweeting! He was doing stuff! And even though his actually abilities INSIDE the ring amounted to a big ol’ MEH from everyone, the brass were still giving him opportunities, right?!

“DA CHAMP PICKED ME!”

To squish him, sure, but we already covered that last time.

“SUPERSTAR OF THE MONTH”

For tweeting and getting people to tune into him being a midcarder, but, again, we covered that last time.

“BUT MY TEAM”

And that is where I hope that tears of sorrow come for Ned. He THOUGHT he was doing a great thing. He THOUGHT he was amassing a team of awesomeness...or at least one that could function together. But, like my own captain, he showed much of his inexperience and inability to understand the playing field. Getting all caught up on your own hype can be a problem, and I think Ned has. Because when you fail in the ring, and your hype ends, all of it ends. You strip away Ned’s hype, you strip away the “new” smell, you strip away the silly nickname that doesn’t axly apply to him, and all you have is someone trying REALLY hard and getting nothing but “well...I thought it would work” in its stead.

Just like his claims that his team would work together.

Both Mastermind and Luna are worth little more than momentary concentration on their opponents, and while Eddy IS wonderfully correct in his assessment that I AM a badass warrior, much of his contributions are going to amount to “too little, too late.” And I have already discussed...at length...about his poor choice in Thad, in putting so much hope and emphasis on someone’s name.

Roll your eyes and giggle at D’s choices all you want, posterity is going to do as much for Ned.

Now, I’m not exactly one to harp on “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU SAID THIS ABOUT ME IN YOUR PROMO PLEASE HOLD ON WHILE I GO THROUGH IT LINE BY LINE” and all of that silliness, but Ned DID say something about me recently which I wish to remark upon:

My dedication to this team.

I will be the first to admit that I am probs the BEST at self-promotion. Self-promotion is very important in this sport, as WE are both our first defense AND offense. And with all of my ventures, I spend a LOT of time talking about myself, much to the utter joy of MANY people, but in doing so I NEVER lose sight of the MOST important thing:

Victory.

THAT, baby birds, is what most important to me. Yes yes, I love shoes, and cute-as-flame dwarf bunnies who wear eyeliner to match mine, and purses, and a billion other things, but victory! Victory, above ALL! Victory is why we are here. Victory is why we DO this thing. Sure, I’m not exactly going to get all “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” with my teammates, but that does not mean that I am going to sacrifice a single one of them at the cost of victory. This is, after all, a team event.

Now, if this was a battle royal or something, the would be FUUUUUUUCKED, let me tell you!

But this? This is all or nothing. This is my hand raised in victory at the end or a big ol’ L in the record books, which would be a first for me in the XWF. And by no means am I going to allow whether or not my team likes to get cookies after the show and swap kissing stories with faces blushed like we are in middle school affect that W I am in search of. And it is because of that desire for the victory, because I consider that victory PARAMOUNT above all things, I am going to do whatever I need to to bring my teammates up to my level. Well, as close as they can get, anyway. Some of them have to travel a LOOOOOOONG way up, let me tell you.

But they WILL be up on Sunday. They WILL be higher than they have ever been. Rain is going to stand straighter. War Piggie is going to be manscaped. Gilly will be less greasy. D will be more interesting. And we WILL win.

In the end, the reality of the situation is that Ned is that guy who has found himself in WAY over his head. The competition is stiffer than he thought. His skills are less refined than he thought. His marketing and promotion edges are more dull than he thought. And unfortunately for him, he drew the worst thing possible after the teams were drafted and matches were booked:

The Queen of Anarchy.

So, my default character for him. Because at the end of all of this, he is going to find himself falling to his knees, his eyes glazed over, as he AGAIN gets beat by people he didn’t realize were so FAR above his level, and wonder in awe at the person Main fears to face.

Maybe he’ll tweet about it.

Reliability

Sat, 25 May 2019 14:15:32 -0700

Running was always a difficult thing for me. During football in high school, we ran at the end of every practice to improve our conditioning. Coaches timed us and if we didn't finish in the specified time for each group of people(fast, medium, and slow), we'd have to go again until we could. While I was never the 400 pounds offensive lineman who NEVER made the time, I wasn't proud to say I WAS the 250 pounds defensive lineman who BARELY made the time.

But here I was, 'flying' down the sidewalk, working up a sweat that would surely make my teammate, Lacklan, shriek in horror of how gross I was. But it had to be done, my fat ass had to do every little thing possible to gain an upper hand for War Games. While I wasn't having any fun, I knew the reward for whipping my butt into slightly better shape would be worth it, just as it was with football.

As I did my own version of 'running', which consisted of me jogging at a pace that only slowed over time, I thought about reliability. I was doing this so I could rely on myself to step into the cage on Sunday and not let myself down. It'd be a simple enough task to gain my Universal Title shot if only relying on myself, but that wasn't the case. The fact was I depended on my teammates as much as, if not MORE than, myself. As far as I was concerned, this wasn't my shot to earn. While theoretically it was, being just 1 out of 5 people meant I only REALLY factored into 20% of the equation.

The thought of relying on others to help me achieve my goal was frightening. My past was clouded with plenty of times I relied on another person, only to have them let me down. Whether it was a girl outside of the ring or a Tag Team partner inside, having someone else bear the weight of the world with me usually ended in disappointment for myself. Not to say that I HAVEN'T been successful, though.

Me and my Tag Team partner, Chance, won the Tag Team Championship for my short lived fed, the WLFC. I also won the NWF and WWF World Tag Team Titles with Slim and Seth Flash respectively. While I had tastes of those successes, they all eventually ended. My league folded and we retired the belts as champions, but me and my former partner are no longer friends. The other 2 championship reigns were quite short, something that was bound to happen. Those partnerships were just random pairings that managed to hit a stroke of luck and take advantage of it. But as we all know, you can only get lucky so many times before the truth comes out. While Slim ended up betraying me, you'd be surprised that the team of Seth Flash and I didn't work out. Both being former World Champions, you would've thought it'd be impossible to take us down. But the fact is, if teammates don't have chemistry together, they just aren't gonna be successful in the long term.

Sunday isn't about the long term, though. Team Big D doesn't have to win a match and then stay together to continue our success. No, all we have to do is gel just enough to be victorious ONE time.
Then Lacklan can go back to being the Queen of XWF on Anarchy, continuing to stay Federweight Champion because everyone is too scared to touch her.
Peter Gilmour can take his already guaranteed Xtreme Title shot, win it, and show the world why I chose him for this team.
Rain can go back to being a confused gay man tempted into sin by his sister, knowing he proved to everyone else he wasn't a weak link of my team.
And Bearded War Pig can go back to defending the country like the true American Hero he is.

I didn't choose my four team member's because I expect all of us to work fluidly together. It wasn't like I thought Rain and Lacklan would work well because they're both homosexual, or that me and Gilmour would mesh well because we've both been World Champions; no, I picked who I thought was the best individual available to me and ran with them.

That's the thing about this match, while everyone is on a team, it doesn't mean we have to work as one. As long as each of us does what we're best at, everything else will come together. I know I can rely on them to do the absolute best they can, and as long as we all do that, I'm gonna be Number 1 Contender for the Universal Championship, guaranteed.

At this point my exercise had become a walk. I was completely wore out, my body didn't feel capable of moving more than .0001 miles per hour. My heart and soul wanted it to, I NEEDED it to. There was no way in hell I was gonna make it through the entire War Games match without better conditioning.

'Man, for once in my life I actually feel bad for Lacklan.'

There those words were, again, repeating through my head. They may have been the words of Centurion, but I knew deep down it was also the thought of the entire XWF lockeroom. I was a bad leader for picking the team I did, and the team was shit because of who they were. According to everyone but myself. And even though I knew they were only the words of a veteran jealous his time was over, it still drove me to get better. I was back to a sprint again, feeding off of the hate me and my team had been receiving the past several weeks. The burn was beginning to feel good, almost orgasmic, when thinking about what a victory would prove to all those naysayers.

After running for what felt like forever, I came to a stop outside of a bar. It wasn't anything fancy, but it seemed like the perfect place to catch my breath and maybe enjoy A brew. I walked in and saw there wasn't very many patrons at all, something that may have worked out in my favor. The last thing I needed was an angry fan to stab me before my the biggest match of my career.

"Hey, aren't you Big D?" the bartender asked as I approached. He did the typical bartender move and set a napkin in front of me. "What'll it be?"

"Just a glass of Blue Moon," I responded. "And yeah, I'm Big D."

The bartender smiles, grabs a glass, and begins to pour my drink. I glance around the place, seeing the various TVs with a different sport playing on each one. There was also the usual sports bar memorabilia all over the walls, from signed jerseys to pictures of famous athletes that had a beer in the establishment. As I turned away from the walls, the bartender was standing in front of me, setting my beer on the napkin. I reached for my wallet, but the guy refused

"When you're a famous athlete, first one's always free," he said with a smile. The guy had quite the Boston accent, despite us being nowhere near the city.

"Thanks," I responded with appreciation as I took a sip.

"Don't you have a big match comin' up?" he asked, eyeing my beer. "Might not be smart to get wasted so close to it, ya know?"

"Oh, I'm not gonna get wasted," I laughed, setting the glass back down. "Just needed an icy beverage after all the training." As I said this, I realized I was probably too disgusting and sweaty to be out in public. "Sorry about my appearance, I've been running non-stop in preparation for War Games."

"Apology not accepted," the bartender quipped. "Because it wasn't necessary." He gives me a look, desiring approval for his stupid comment, which I give a faint grin to. "You're gonna have your hands full come Sunday, so I don't blame ya for all the trainin'."

"Do you watch?" I asked. It was probably a stupid question, if he knew who I was, he HAD to watch.

"I watch enough to know you got your hands full with that team of yours," he snarked. I didn't respond at first, taking in the criticism I had grown used to at this point. He could tell his words weren't welcome, as he was quick to rephrase what he meant. "All's I'm sayin' is while ya got some talent, yous also got some dead weight. Ya know, when it rains it pours."

The guy gave me a wink, trying to not completely drag my team through the mud. It didn't matter to me what everyone thought of Rain, the truth is he was just as equal part of the team as the others. Regardless of what people saw or didn't see in him.

"It could be worse," I responded with another gulp of Blue Moon. "I could have Ned's team." The bartender's mouth dropped open in shock, before realizing something; giving me another wink and nudging me with his elbow.

"Oh, I get it," he said. "You can't bash your team because you'd be bashing yourself, too."

"No," I retorted sternly. "I legitimately feel I'd be worse off with anyone on Ned's team....." The bartender seemed shocked by my response.

"That beer must already be messin' wit yous," he chuckled. "I mean, I get believing in Gilmour's super dick or Lacklan's tight ass, but Rain? Bearded War Pig? I'm not even convinced that guy served this country. You can't honestly sit there and tells me you wouldn't take someone like Mastermind or Thad Duke over Rain."

"I am," I once again had to state, getting pretty irritated at this point. I wasn't sure if it was my anger or the fact I had worked out so hard, but I was starting to feel a bit light headed. He'd probably contribute that to my defense of my teammates, but it definitely was not. "I think Mastermind is overrated. When I first arrived in XWF, I immediately put him on a pedestal. 'Oh, this guy is Xtreme Champion, he HAS to be one of THE top guys!' But then I waited to see him in action, REAL action, and what happened? The days went by, the weeks passed, and all he ever did was AVOID stepping into the ring. He just hung out backstage, always on his toes to ensure no-one catches him off guard and takes his title."

"Yeah, but come on, I'm sure you can respect that."

"Oh I can, to an extent," I defended myself. "But what happened when he FINALLY stepped between the ropes? He lost to that zombie freak, a wrestler I would've expected someone of Mastermind's 'reputation' to put away EASILY. And then Zane goes on to lose it, just like that! Shows MM didn't lose it to someone of worth, Huh?"

The bartender nodded in agreeance, listening to my reasoning. "Not to mention," I continued. "He definitely held that belt for over 3 week, yet he was never smart enough to get his 24/7 briefcase he was rightfully entitled to."
I paused for a moment to take another sip of my drink. "Truth be told, I don't want someone that stupid or cowardly to be apart of ANYTHING branded with my name."

"Well, hey, I guess I can't really argue with ya," the bartender said, eyeing my half empty beer. "But what about Duke or Luna, or even EDWARD? I mean, not to piss ya off or anything, but that dude beat you."

As I took another sip, I thought about EDWARD. It was true, out of everyone on Team Ned Kaye, EDWARD was the only one I ever faced, unsuccessfully at that. This was a hard fact for me, because when I arrived in XWF I thought he was an absolute joke. And yet that joke has a victory over me. I must've been stressing too much, as I was feeling even worse. It was almost like I wasn't inside my own head.

"Did you watch that match?" I asked, fighting off the feeling. "Did you not see how I had him pinned on top of a car, and he happened to fall through the roof? Saying he beat me is just as bad as saying Mastermind defended his title by hiding. PA-leeeeeease."

"Well that's fair," the bartender responded with a nod. "But come on, you can't discredit Luna Hightower. You teamed with her for God's sake, there had to be a reason for that."

"There was," I answered as I finished my beer. "Because management set the match up that way. When I saw the card for that match, I was confused. I'd never heard of her and really had no desire to team with her. And then when the time came, we didn't even HAVE a match because our opponents were locked out of the building! As I've said before, I wouldn't be surprised if SHE was the one who did it. But I can't blame her, had we actually faced the Perfect Storm, she probably would've cost us the match anyway. In the same way she's gonna cost Ned War Games and his Universal Title shot."

"And then there's Thad Duke," I continued. "This match is bigger than this kid, just like Ned's match against Robert Main was too big for HIM. Thad needs to do the right thing and step back so someone more capable can.......... step up.........."

My condition had reached a point I could no longer fight. I tried to stay focused on the bar, fixing my eyes on my empty glass. It did no good, as my arms went limp, causing me to knock the glass to the floor, shattering it. The whole time the bartender kept his eyes locked on me, smiling at my predicament. Next thing I knew, I had fallen off the bar stool and the room was spinning. Slowly everything faded to black, with me paralyzed on the floor helpless.

I awoke, God knows how long later, in a place I was unfamiliar with. It was hard to make out with my eyes not focused yet, but it seemed like some sort of warehouse. To my dissatisfaction I was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, my hands tied behind my back. As my eyes began to adjust I could see a figure standing in front of me, with various shadows behind it.

"Wakey, wakey....."

The shadow spoke to me, taunting the fact I was at its mercy. It also confirmed exactly what I had feared: the bartender was responsible for my condition. With how he was constantly eyeing my drink, it was now apparent he drugged it.

"Do you really think you're better than Notorious Ned Kaye?" he asked, walking into the light, revealing himself. "You REALLY think your pathetic excuse for a team stands a chance against our Indy darling?"

"N-not if I'm t-t-tied up and can't fight him," I managed to speak.

"That's the point," the bartender smirked before disappearing back into the darkness.

"S-so what, you're gonna keep me from show-showing up?" I asked, fearing that very scenario. I had worked to hard to let some crazy fan prevent me from making it to War Games. Unfortunately, I wasn't in any position to stop him. "I may not respect Ned, bu-but I can tell you HE'D want to have the chance to fight me f-f-fairly......"

The bartender walked back into my view, the shadows following behind. I could now see the crazy bartender wasn't the only person in this abandoned building, there were at least 10 other accomplices. The feeling of dread began to fill my body from my head all the way down to my toes. For once in my life I was helpless and in a bad spot, regretting ever stepping foot into that bar.

"Well what Ned doesn't know won't hurt him," the bartender sadistically remarked, reaching for something out of view. The fear I had been feeling turned to anger. Everything I had done, all the wins, the pain I forced my body to endure, it was all gonna be for nothing. I wasn't gonna let that happen without a fight, even if it was just verbally. I had to do ANYTHING I could.

"Listen here, Bill Cosby," I snapped at my kidnapper. "Ned Kaye is quite an athlete, but he's NOT on my level. He had his opportunity and he couldn't live up to the hype. Maybe someday he'll prove himself, but it's not gonna be Sunday. I'll die before I allow Notorious Ned Kaye to get ANOTHER title shot over me!"

The bartender began to laugh, which made his allies join in. My heart sunk at the realization I wasn't a threat to them, just a rag doll in the same way Ned was one at MY hands at Anarchy. It was almost like poetic justice.

"Oh, Ned IS gonna get his shot," the man cracked as he walked into view, revealing the object he grabbed: a knife. "Over your dead body......"

It was over, nothing I accomplished in XWF, or anywhere, mattered anymore. This guy was such a diehard Ned Kaye fan, he was willing to do ANYTHING to help his hero out; even if it meant committing murder. There was nothing I could do, the rope around my hands were tied too tight. As I watched my future murderer creep towards me, I saw my life flash before my eyes. My childhood, my high school years. All the various championships I held, from the WWF X-Division Championship to my only World Title reign. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about how I would die a one-time World Champion, a competitor people would forever question if I really deserved it. The only comfort I had was knowing I wouldn't be around to hear them questioning it anymore.

Then all of a sudden, a miracle happened. The doors to the warehouse blew open and in stormed members of Team Big D, looking like their own version of the Suicide Squad. Lacklan, Peter Gilmour, Bearded War Pig, and Rain were here to save their leader. The four of them easily dispatched of the civilians that held me hostage. The bartender stood in shock, watching his friends all go down like a Kardashian on an NBA player.

After the last of his allies was out, Lacklan approached the bartender and kicked the knife out of his hand. From each side of him, Rain and Gilmour both deliver a kick to the head, squishing his noggin between their boots. As he falls down, Sarah catches him and hits her Reverse DDT finisher, the Abyss. Peter then grabs the knife and cut me free.

"You...... you guys came for me?" I stated in complete shock. My heart was pounding harder than candy an old person gives out. "How did you find me?"

Sarah rolls her eyes.

"Well, like, first of all, I noticed that the stench of Loser Weed Smoker had gotten less, right? And then I looked around and only saw Rain being gross...and Gilly being gross...and War Piggie just kinda doing his usual gig...whatever THAT is...and realized that YOU weren't there. So then I busted out my-"

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a large and bulky phone.

"SWEET Windows Phone and activated my "Find War Games Taggie Teams Partner" ap...which you guys don't have with your loser Droid and iShit phones, obvs...and then BLAMO! Found you. You're welcome!"

"I mean, I only went for a run," I responded, rising to my feet.

"Yeah, well, you were gone longer than just a run," Peter Gilmour responded.

It didn't matter to me how or why they were there, I was just appreciative they were. Had it not been for my team, the one no-one believed in but me, I wouldn't be alive; I wouldn't make it to War Games; and I certainly wouldn't get my Universal Title shot. If I could rely on them to save my life, I certainly knew I could count on them to help us win War Games. And that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth.