<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Leap of Faith 2019 RP Board]]>

<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Leap of Faith 2019 RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Tue, 02 Jun 2026 15:23:52 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Forest]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34143 Sun, 28 Jul 2019 00:00:37 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34143

July 15th, 2019

The scene fades in from black, revealingNed Kaye running full force on a treadmill, several gym-goers watching on in shock. After a strong finish, he hops off, barely catching his breath, grabbing a towel and wiping his brow. Ethan walks up to him, looking proud.

"Damn, Ned, you're really pushing yourself here!"

"Honestly, I'm not interested in letting another opportunity pass me by. Besides, I do have to improve my overall performance across the board for one... fairly important reason."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Ned hesitates, sighing.

"I'm afraid of heights."

Ethan's head turns slowly toward The Notorious One, eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

"You... you... wh-what?"

Kaye nods, visibly embarrassed by the admission.

"Dude... how do you even...?"

"Like..."

Ned shrugs, shaking his head as he places his hands together.

"...fuck."

All of a sudden, a small jingle sounds. Reaching into his pocket, Ned pulls out his phone, looking at the screen.

"It's... it's Drew."

"Archyle?"

"Yeah..."

Ned places the phone to his ear, a confused expression on his face as muffled speech blares from the other side.

"Hey- hey! Slow down, Drew! What's going on?"

He nods, quickly itching the side of his face.

"Have you called Robert?"

Silence.

"Look, I can make it there as soon as possible, you just gotta give me a little bit of time. I was just getting some training in. I'll be there right away."

"Cool, see ya then."

The Notorious One hangs up, making his way towards the exit, Ethan following him, an anxious look on his face.

"What's going on?"

"Not sure. Something about a horse. I'm beginning to think breaking him out wasn't the best idea."

Ethan halfheartedly chuckles.

"You think?"

The two stop at the door as Ned turns to his friend.

"Tell Joey I might be unavailable for a few days. He knows what to do, I just have to handle a personal matter. Okay?"

"Su-sure, but-"

"Thanks, buddy."

Ned smiles before dashing out the door, leaving Ethan baffled.

"But what about the heights thing?"

Ned Kaye's muffled shout is heard from outside, down the street.

"We'll get it handled!"

Ethan places a hand to his forehead, mind clearly racing.

"...Yeah. Right."

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

July 21st, 2019

The scene cuts to a different clip, showing Ned sitting across from a reporter wearing a navy blue suit, holding a small notepad in one hand as she addresses the camera.

"Welcome to Professional Wrestling Insider! I'm Ruth Calloway and tonight we have a very special guest. You might know him from his rise to prominence in the XWF or his many matches a free agent, but now he has the opportunity of a lifetime. "Notorious" Ned Kaye is here with us-"

The camera cuts back to show Ned's face as he smiles.

"-and let me just say, it is a pleasure to have you here tonight."

"I'm always gracious when people decide I have something worth hearing."

They both laugh slightly.

"So, how's your training for the match been?"

"Oh damn, what hasn't it?"

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

July 20th, 2019

There is another cut to a different clip, showing Ned and Ethan in swim trunks at what appears to be an aquatic center. Standing in front of both of them, towering above them are the stairs of a high dive. Looking over it, Ned shudders.

"I don't get it, dude. You've been in countless ladder matches, you get in a ring and willingly beat the hell out of someone, but a rafter is too high?"

"It's different. With a ladder I don't have to feel like I'm just dangling with no hope. With a ladder I don't have to worry about all of my falls leading to serious injury or death."

"...Then why are you shaking right now..?"

Ned gazes upward at the top of the high dive.

"Because I don't have a choice."

Ethan frowns somewhat, nudging Ned with his elbow.

"Hey, come on, man. You're gonna be alright. You have complete control here. Nothing to worry about."

"Right."

"You'll just go up there and get used to the height, then you can work on the jumping."

"...Right."

"This match is really important for you. I've seen you keep talking about it over and over. Your eyes light up, Ned. You're one of the hardest workers I know and not a damn thing can stop you if you just push forward. And I'm right here, man. I didn't let you fall off the wagon, I didn't let you destroy yourself from this past June, and I'm right here."

Ned inhales sharply, looking to Ethan.

"Thank you."

"No problem, man."

Reluctantly, Ned begins to climb the steps.

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

"It's been one of the most trying times of my life. I mean, just past training for the match, I've had to come to terms with so much going on that I don't have a hand in influencing. Just- changes. Changes I can and can't control all converging at once. So, I've been very nervous and, as usual, I'm likely pushing myself far too hard. But the work you put in is a reward in of itself."

"And what kind of changes have been going on in your life?"

Ned sighs, taking a moment to think.

"Well..."

"My father is going to be passing soon after a long battle with cancer, so I'm having to prepare for the day when my biggest fan and motivator is just... not going to be here anymore. My career has really developed past what I think anyone expected apart from a core few. And I recently open a business of a sort, mostly to give access to an affordable gym to my hometown. A lot of those folks have the desire but not the cash. I think it's only fair I give back because I wouldn't be where I am without people believing in me, so I believe in my neighborhood."

"Ah! So, you've entered business much like your opponent Robbie Bourbon?"

Ned laughs, shaking his head.

"No, not like Robbie. Very many key differences."

"Like what?"

Ned tilts his head in slight confusion.

"I didn't start my business to profit or exploit my customers. I'm breaking even or losing money on this gym, it doesn't matter to me. The cost is worth keeping it accessible to those who need it. Bourbon's not like that. Not one bit. Robbie is looking out for himself. I heard rumors he was gonna skip this rafter match like he had skipped his X-Treme title shot and I don't doubt it for a second."

"Why's that?"

"Because he cares about his own personal brand and nothing else. He's only ever been kind towards the XWF Galaxy because he knows he can get money from them. It's despicable. He knows he has a chance of losing this match just like he knew Tommy Wish could beat him so he'll likely not show up. That's the kind of man Bourbon is."

"Alright then. What about one of your other competitors: Mastermind?"

A wide smile covers Ned's face.

"I'm excited to see what he has in store for me. Our last match took a toll on both of us physically and while I may have won my last match, MM had a rough time at Wrestlestock. He's going to be more than ready to do whatever it takes to grab victory, but that desperate hunger doesn't win multi-man matches like these."

"Well, on the subject of your last match, many are saying you had an unfair win over Raphael Blackwater. How do you feel about that?

"They're saying it because it's true. I didn't achieve a proper victory over Raphael. And I think Donovan's carrying that with him more than he'd like to admit. Donovan isn't the kind to smile and nod at undue treatment of his kin. If he's staying quiet on me, it's deliberate. The Blackwaters don't plan on the same level as myself or MM, but they aren't naive. If Donovan is developing a plan for me, he'll keep it close to his chest."

"Since we're on the subject, do you have any words on the other combatants: Big D and Brian Storm?"

Ned takes a second to collect his thoughts, inhaling deeply before he speaks.

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

"I don't know about this!"

Ned stands about a foot from the edge of the high dive, looking nervous as he shouts down at Ethan.

"Ned, it's just one jump now! I know you can do it!"

Ned inches his way forward, peering over at the water, shaking heavily.

"I-I don't know..."

"Come on, man! All you have to do is close your eyes and just walk off! That's all you gotta do!"

Ned stays silent for a moment.

"You sure?"

"Positive!"

With a deep breath, Ned walks towards the edge of the platform before letting gravity pull him the rest of the way. Halfway through the fall, he opens his eyes, flailing in a state of panic.

"Shit, shit, shitshitshitSHITSHI-"

SPLASH

Ethan is heard laughing a bit as Ned pulls himself to the edge of the pool, coughing loudly while he grimaces.

"God, I think I got some water up my nose..."

"You did good, Ned! Next step is doing that with your eyes open."

"Ugh..."

Ned runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

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

"Daniel reminds me a lot of myself, honestly. He doesn't go into matches halfway or try to give anything less than his best, but he's hitting a wall. And how he reacts to it will prove his character. But I can see his frustration brewing. Daniel's an interesting case because he's someone who could main event countless shows in other companies, but he's facing the best of the best here and it's getting to him like it got to me. But I know he'll find his stride and regardless of my feelings for his behavior prior to our War Games match, I want to face him mano a mano at his absolute best. Brian on the other hand has just put in the time, proven he means business. But I think Brian's going to be in a whole different world on that rafter. I'm curious to see whether it breaks his undefeated streak."

"Do you have any things that motivate you?"

"There's a quote that's stuck with me for a very long time..."

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

Ned walks towards the edge carefully, eyes wide open.

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

"And when you fall..."

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

Holding his breath, he steps closer.

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

"You will fall from a height..."

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

He pushes himself off the edge, looking down as he falls toward the water.

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

"Most men will never reach."

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

The water encompasses him, before he bursts out, laughing loudly"

"I can do it!"

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

"Well, I have a few more questions for you, if you can stay a bit-"

"Mr. Kaye."

Ned looks back at the disembodied voice, surprised.

"Yes..?"

"It's about your father."

July 24th, 2019

In a hospital room, seated next to the bed his father is laying in, Ned Kaye sits. His father is motionless, several machines connected to him, information about his condition sprawled across screens on each machine. Ned himself looks exhausted. He stares at his feet, looking up to check on his father. His hands are pressed together. In his focus, he doesn't notice a figure enter the room behind him.

"Hey, Ned."

Ned twists around to see his older brother, Nathaniel.

"Is Dad okay?"

Ned, concealing his contempt as best he can, shakes his head.

"His condition worsened heavily just a couple of days ago. They don't know if he's gonna make it past the week."

Nate takes a seat next to Ned.

"Mom called. Told me you'd been beating yourself up pretty bad over this. That's why I came by. I'm gonna watch Dad while you go to that show for your company."

"No, you're not."

Ned stares at his brother, channeling pure hatred through his eyes.

"After everything you've said about him- to him, you think you're just gonna waltz on in here and play the part of the living son?"

"Dad and I had our differences, but I don't want him to die."

"You said otherwise back then."

Nate holds back a response before he speaks, his tone sharp.

"Is that really what you're going to prioritize right now? The airing of grievances?"

"I don't trust you. I don't trust anything about you. This isn't about me."

"Well, it's not about me either, Ned!"

Ned stays quiet.

"...I'm not gonna pretend I didn't treat you all terribly, but I'm not that person anymore. I wish I was still the person you think I am, so maybe you could get some damn closure, but I'm not. Now, I'm gonna be here with you, without you, or in spite of you, but I just wanna be here for Dad. I've wasted a lot of time, Ned, and I'm not getting it back."

Nate's eyes begin to tear up slightly as he looks at Ned. Silently, they make an agreement, both brothers looking onward to their comatose father.

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

July 26th, 2019

At a hospital vending machine, an unknown figure places some quarters in. The machine makes a bit of noise before stuttering, keeping whatever selection the figure had firmly in the grip of its coils. Cursing under his breath somewhat, the figure reveals himself to be none other than Robert Main.

Ned Kaye is sitting nearby, wearing a distraught expression despite Robert having come to see him.

"So, let me get this straight."

Robert walks towards Ned, a questioning look on his face.

"You're thinking of not showing up to the rafter match?"

"...Yeah."

"And you're sure this is just about your Dad and not that fear of heights shit?"

"I'm sure."

Robert frowns, looking somewhat disappointed in The Notorious One.

"You're gonna toss away such a huge shot? An honor? I didn't take you for someone like that, Ned."

"You have your obligations to family and I have mine. Cancer isn't like Chris Page. I can't face it in a ring for retribution. I just have to watch and stay here. I can't leave him alone to die, Rob. I just can't..."

Robert gazes at Ned's slumped over body.

"When my fiancee, Lilian... died, it was instant. I wasn't able to be there by her side. The one person who kept me going more than anything didn't even get to see me a day before she was gone. I can't go through that again."

Robert sighs, grabbing Ned's shoulder.

"I get it, kid. But potential doesn't give a damn if you're on cloud nine or in the fiery pits of Hell. Your time is coming Ned, sooner than you think. And it's approaching like a freight train. So you can turn away from it and get crushed underneath or you can hold onto it for dear life. But it ain't stopping for you."

"I get that, but I can't let it all go."

Robert sighs again, walking out of frame.

"Call me if you change your mind."

Ned stares at his feet, placing his palms against his eyelids.

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

Ned, sitting by his father's bed, is seen nearly dosing off when his father's hand grabs his with a tight grip, startling The Notorious One.

"Dad... you're awake..."

"What time is it?"

"Late night on the 27th. Why?"

"You're gonna miss your event."

Ned laughs a bit, taken aback by his father's words.

"Dad, I- I can't go. It's not important as being here right now."

"Ned..."

"Every day I wake up, I think about how proud I am of you. And I'm proud of you because I know no matter what you can see it all and try your damndest to succeed. But you see the forest for the trees too often. I want you to be the best damn Ned Kaye you can be. I wanna see my son come out of Britain with a prize fitting his persistence and grit. I'll always be with you Ned, even if you can't see me. But chances like these don't last Ned."

Ned begins to tear up at his father's words, wiping his face uselessly.

"Are you sure..?"

"Of course I am, Ned. I didn't raise you to be a quitter."

Weakly, Ned and his father share a chuckle as Ned gives him a hug.

"I love you, Dad. I'm gonna give it my all."

"I know."

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

There are no small steps into the unknown. Only Leaps...

Ned places his phone to his ear.

"Hey, Robert? I'll be there after all."

TO BE CONCLUDED AT LEAP OF FAITH

]]>

July 15th, 2019

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

July 21st, 2019

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

July 20th, 2019

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

Ned walks towards the edge carefully, eyes wide open.

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

"And when you fall..."

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

Holding his breath, he steps closer.

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

"You will fall from a height..."

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

He pushes himself off the edge, looking down as he falls toward the water.

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

"Most men will never reach."

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

The water encompasses him, before he bursts out, laughing loudly"

"I can do it!"

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

"Well, I have a few more questions for you, if you can stay a bit-"

"Mr. Kaye."

Ned looks back at the disembodied voice, surprised.

"Yes..?"

"It's about your father."

July 24th, 2019

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

July 26th, 2019

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

There are no small steps into the unknown. Only Leaps...

Ned places his phone to his ear.

"Hey, Robert? I'll be there after all."

TO BE CONCLUDED AT LEAP OF FAITH

]]> <![CDATA[In Which I Talk About My Match Or Something...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34245 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 23:56:01 -0700 Barney Green]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34245

You can call me Detective Barney Green at this point in my career. I dunno what to do at this point. Opponents have been silent and haven't really said or done anything.

Mick Ashcroft. More like... Mick Borecroft. You know how many wannabe vampire emo twits have walked through the XWF's hallowed halls. Yet I still remain. Nothing really scares me anymore. I have seen the horrors of Scatbear yet kept coming back.

Drezdin. The only clown that doesn't make me laugh and actually makes me seem like the best competitor the XWF has to offer. I at least put the effort in even if I know I am going out to slaughter. You just do whatever you feel like.

Stigmartyr has stayed silent. Typical. Name sounds like some crappy hip hop group anyway. What can you do to intimidate me? Nothing.

I don't see the need or even have the energy to even wrestle a full-time schedule anymore. Once "Like A Prayer" hits, it will be all over for all of you or something. I don't even know why they are even allowing me to cut a promo against you guys.

It's too easy. Going at this like my name was Bobby Flay. Chopping up the competition. See that shit right there? Straight up garbage nonsense just spewing out my mouth. It works because it draws people into what I am saying and makes them think I am reaching out to them.

Sit back and enjoy the ride I take you all on. Born on the 19th of February in 1984 and ready to raise some hell once that bell rings. I could swear to get my point across. In fact, let's see if that gets anybody's attention. In today's fucking era, I can talk about cock sucking and mother fucking.

I have seen some awful shit in my life though. Growing up and treated like an afterthought by most of your family. The one that isn't supposed to be successful yet is. I don't even really exercise unless you count getting pounded by trannies and sucking cock all night long. I look like a melted candle now because of it but that hasn't affected anything. Still got that five pounds of American cock meat between my legs.

Cue up "Jane" by Jefferson Starship as I head on out into Leap Of Faith. Its gonna be alright. The man who lives in his van will stand tall at the end of the day. I may not be freshly squeezed but that's alright. This is my moment. My legacy is on the line or something. I don't even know at this point. Losing focus as the days get shorter and the nights get longer.

Do you like that approach? Maybe I should just talk about my many sexual conquests but as time draws near, I am just some guy. Whether I am "The Boston Brawler" or "The All-Night Tranny Thrilla", I got the power and the will to keep on going. Sleepless nights in the van. The fans keep me going. This is like totally dumb and stupid. I don't know what else to say at this point so bye. ]]>

You can call me Detective Barney Green at this point in my career. I dunno what to do at this point. Opponents have been silent and haven't really said or done anything.

Mick Ashcroft. More like... Mick Borecroft. You know how many wannabe vampire emo twits have walked through the XWF's hallowed halls. Yet I still remain. Nothing really scares me anymore. I have seen the horrors of Scatbear yet kept coming back.

Drezdin. The only clown that doesn't make me laugh and actually makes me seem like the best competitor the XWF has to offer. I at least put the effort in even if I know I am going out to slaughter. You just do whatever you feel like.

Stigmartyr has stayed silent. Typical. Name sounds like some crappy hip hop group anyway. What can you do to intimidate me? Nothing.

I don't see the need or even have the energy to even wrestle a full-time schedule anymore. Once "Like A Prayer" hits, it will be all over for all of you or something. I don't even know why they are even allowing me to cut a promo against you guys.

It's too easy. Going at this like my name was Bobby Flay. Chopping up the competition. See that shit right there? Straight up garbage nonsense just spewing out my mouth. It works because it draws people into what I am saying and makes them think I am reaching out to them.

Sit back and enjoy the ride I take you all on. Born on the 19th of February in 1984 and ready to raise some hell once that bell rings. I could swear to get my point across. In fact, let's see if that gets anybody's attention. In today's fucking era, I can talk about cock sucking and mother fucking.

I have seen some awful shit in my life though. Growing up and treated like an afterthought by most of your family. The one that isn't supposed to be successful yet is. I don't even really exercise unless you count getting pounded by trannies and sucking cock all night long. I look like a melted candle now because of it but that hasn't affected anything. Still got that five pounds of American cock meat between my legs.

Cue up "Jane" by Jefferson Starship as I head on out into Leap Of Faith. Its gonna be alright. The man who lives in his van will stand tall at the end of the day. I may not be freshly squeezed but that's alright. This is my moment. My legacy is on the line or something. I don't even know at this point. Losing focus as the days get shorter and the nights get longer.

Do you like that approach? Maybe I should just talk about my many sexual conquests but as time draws near, I am just some guy. Whether I am "The Boston Brawler" or "The All-Night Tranny Thrilla", I got the power and the will to keep on going. Sleepless nights in the van. The fans keep me going. This is like totally dumb and stupid. I don't know what else to say at this point so bye. ]]> <![CDATA[Final Thoughts - Leap of Faith Rafter Match - PROMO #3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34242 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 23:06:32 -0700 Mastermind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34242 TEMPORARY LOCKER ROOMS SET UP
OUTSIDE BUCKINGHAM PALACE
LONDON, ENGLAND

The camera fades in to the temporary locker room of Mastermind as he is preparing for his last match before having a forced months break.

It finds him sitting on a stool in contemplation....

"DESTINY and BELIEF. Those are two words you think about while playing sports. Any kind of sports whether it be Individual or Team.

"You have to have both in order to know you are going to win, in order to win because if you negative then Destiny and Belief won't get a look in.

"It has been one crazy month for New Zealand sporting teams. First there was the Cricket World Cup where the top pundits had good old NZ just making it to the Semi Finals and no further.

"But when their semi final opponents were announced, India, one of the best cricket teams in the world, EVERYONE and I mean EVERYONE, non Kiwis wrote their chances off from going any further. Some believed they would be fodder for the Indians....

"But the Kiwi boys had BELIEF and they had their own DESTINY in their hands.... they shocked the cricketing world by beating the mighty Indians and faced the same reaction when they came up against the host nation, England, in the final.

Again no one gave them a chance but through their own BELIEF, they almost won the damn thing only for the game to come down to crazy incidences, and they lost on a count back. But the Kiwis BELIEVED it was THEIR DESTINY to win, and if they didn't have those two things they would never have made it that far,"

Mastermind sits forward.

"And then came the story of the New Zealand Netball team. A year ago they were down and out. They finished 4th at the Commonwealth games, something that NZ Netball never did in their history. They were beaten by one of the easybeats.

"The fallout was immense as you would expect for a national team, then along comes a coach who was overlooked in the first place, chaned the culture of the team, dropped a few players, made them all get fitter, and reselected old experienced players who would play for her.

"Then she reselected one or two girls that she dropped and headed to the World Cup. Outside expectations were they would finish third best.

But the New Zealand team had BELIEF and felt it was their DESTINY to get to at least the final.

"They not only got to the final but they bet the 3 time straight World Champions, our nemesis from across the ditch, the Australians.

"So from depth and despair just by installing BELIEF and DESTINY, the New Zealand became World Champions.

"Now you may ask what does this have to do with me? Well everything really. Notorious Ned Kaye, BigD, Brian Storm, Donovan Blackwater and 'I don't give a fuck' Robbie Bourbon....

"This is my BELIEF that this is my DESTINY to win the rafter match tonight and hold a loft the 24/7 briefcase. I WILL DO IT TOO.... See you all soon."

And with that Mastermind gets up and walks iff camera. The came fades out.]]> TEMPORARY LOCKER ROOMS SET UP
OUTSIDE BUCKINGHAM PALACE
LONDON, ENGLAND

The camera fades in to the temporary locker room of Mastermind as he is preparing for his last match before having a forced months break.

It finds him sitting on a stool in contemplation....

"DESTINY and BELIEF. Those are two words you think about while playing sports. Any kind of sports whether it be Individual or Team.

"You have to have both in order to know you are going to win, in order to win because if you negative then Destiny and Belief won't get a look in.

"It has been one crazy month for New Zealand sporting teams. First there was the Cricket World Cup where the top pundits had good old NZ just making it to the Semi Finals and no further.

"But when their semi final opponents were announced, India, one of the best cricket teams in the world, EVERYONE and I mean EVERYONE, non Kiwis wrote their chances off from going any further. Some believed they would be fodder for the Indians....

"But the Kiwi boys had BELIEF and they had their own DESTINY in their hands.... they shocked the cricketing world by beating the mighty Indians and faced the same reaction when they came up against the host nation, England, in the final.

Again no one gave them a chance but through their own BELIEF, they almost won the damn thing only for the game to come down to crazy incidences, and they lost on a count back. But the Kiwis BELIEVED it was THEIR DESTINY to win, and if they didn't have those two things they would never have made it that far,"

Mastermind sits forward.

"And then came the story of the New Zealand Netball team. A year ago they were down and out. They finished 4th at the Commonwealth games, something that NZ Netball never did in their history. They were beaten by one of the easybeats.

"The fallout was immense as you would expect for a national team, then along comes a coach who was overlooked in the first place, chaned the culture of the team, dropped a few players, made them all get fitter, and reselected old experienced players who would play for her.

"Then she reselected one or two girls that she dropped and headed to the World Cup. Outside expectations were they would finish third best.

But the New Zealand team had BELIEF and felt it was their DESTINY to get to at least the final.

"They not only got to the final but they bet the 3 time straight World Champions, our nemesis from across the ditch, the Australians.

"So from depth and despair just by installing BELIEF and DESTINY, the New Zealand became World Champions.

"Now you may ask what does this have to do with me? Well everything really. Notorious Ned Kaye, BigD, Brian Storm, Donovan Blackwater and 'I don't give a fuck' Robbie Bourbon....

"This is my BELIEF that this is my DESTINY to win the rafter match tonight and hold a loft the 24/7 briefcase. I WILL DO IT TOO.... See you all soon."

And with that Mastermind gets up and walks iff camera. The came fades out.]]> <![CDATA[One would think by now]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34237 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 22:24:39 -0700 drezdin5788]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34237 i have been wanting to say this for a very very very long ass time.

As a matter of fact its been about 3 or 4 years since ive wanting to get want i want off of my chest.

And its this.

For the last 3 or 4 years, i dare even to say the entire time that i was here, better yet, since this company started out, ive noticed that this company does something that i dont fucking get why the still do it or why the wont let it go.

Something that makes no damn since what so ever.

And its why on gods blue plant is this company STILL hold holding on to shit thats either no use, old, shoulda got rid of it, trash, a piece of shit, or just throw it away and redo it?

I mean for example, the feddaweight and xtreme titles.

Good god after so many years of having the titles that one would think of getting rid of them.

How many times have you seen those belts get defended on a regular basis in a ppv much less a house show like savage or warfare?

Nada, zero, ziltch, never, eeevvveeerrr.

One would think by now to get rid of them..........I hope.

Speaking of getting rid of, trash.

Bilbo, dong, mini morbid, and centurion.

The thing of it is that with mini, its not so much that hes a midget, its not so much that when hes does his promos, its just that..that..that hes not main event material nor main event worthy.

He had every god damn chance to prove to the world and the xwf that hed belong in the main event despite the obstacles he had to over come.

And look what happend, hes reduced to low to mid carder.

Then theres bilbo and dong.

Oi mudda ffffucking god.

Heres what you call trash personified.

These two are so fucking bad that one would think that after facing the same two three straight time, winning inside of 5 minutes, while not knowing on how to do/ what to do in a proper promo that maybe just maybe that wresting the best thing to go after much less choice

I mean if niether one of knows how to fight, or do a half way decent promo, then get the fuck out of here.

Then theres centurion.

Holy shit speaking of piece of shit.

A guy who thinks that after 6 years away from the sport of pro wresting that he can walts in begin where his 200 year old decrepit ass left of WITHOUT NO repercussions at all.

Hate to burst your bubble but heres the reality bub.

You centurion are just simple a waste of money.

I mean what in the fuck made you think that at the age of 200 you are allowed to just walk in like nothing happend when you even haven't earned jack shit since?

You havent done jack shit since you came back nor were you relivent then since you first set foot in here

Please.....Seriously.....get the fuck out.

The only reason why you returned is because the moment you left to heal your body, is because the spot light disappeared in a instant.

And when that moment happend, you just hated the fact that it wasnt on you.

So in due time, when we finally meet, ill yank back what to didn't deserve.

You go back go to what you always hated to be normal.

And you will at the hands of me get the reality check that you shoulda gotten a long time ago.

Folks, if the xwf wont take out the society trash, then i fucking will..

Last but not least the last thing i wanna get off my chest.

Now even though its a fatal 4 way match for my 50k, im going to refer to barney green.

Why just refer to barney green, its basiclly because all what it is an actually one on one match for my 50k.

Barney green, all i will say to you is that am i going to get the barney green of old the ass kicker or am i going to get the barney the dinosaur that laughs gayishly then passes out by drinking to much alcohol and waking up to find himself in a alley 7 in the morning not realizing that hes showing side man boobs?

Cause im the last mudda fucka on earth you wanna deal with pissed off. ]]> i have been wanting to say this for a very very very long ass time.

As a matter of fact its been about 3 or 4 years since ive wanting to get want i want off of my chest.

And its this.

For the last 3 or 4 years, i dare even to say the entire time that i was here, better yet, since this company started out, ive noticed that this company does something that i dont fucking get why the still do it or why the wont let it go.

Something that makes no damn since what so ever.

And its why on gods blue plant is this company STILL hold holding on to shit thats either no use, old, shoulda got rid of it, trash, a piece of shit, or just throw it away and redo it?

I mean for example, the feddaweight and xtreme titles.

Good god after so many years of having the titles that one would think of getting rid of them.

How many times have you seen those belts get defended on a regular basis in a ppv much less a house show like savage or warfare?

Nada, zero, ziltch, never, eeevvveeerrr.

One would think by now to get rid of them..........I hope.

Speaking of getting rid of, trash.

Bilbo, dong, mini morbid, and centurion.

The thing of it is that with mini, its not so much that hes a midget, its not so much that when hes does his promos, its just that..that..that hes not main event material nor main event worthy.

He had every god damn chance to prove to the world and the xwf that hed belong in the main event despite the obstacles he had to over come.

And look what happend, hes reduced to low to mid carder.

Then theres bilbo and dong.

Oi mudda ffffucking god.

Heres what you call trash personified.

These two are so fucking bad that one would think that after facing the same two three straight time, winning inside of 5 minutes, while not knowing on how to do/ what to do in a proper promo that maybe just maybe that wresting the best thing to go after much less choice

I mean if niether one of knows how to fight, or do a half way decent promo, then get the fuck out of here.

Then theres centurion.

Holy shit speaking of piece of shit.

A guy who thinks that after 6 years away from the sport of pro wresting that he can walts in begin where his 200 year old decrepit ass left of WITHOUT NO repercussions at all.

Hate to burst your bubble but heres the reality bub.

You centurion are just simple a waste of money.

I mean what in the fuck made you think that at the age of 200 you are allowed to just walk in like nothing happend when you even haven't earned jack shit since?

You havent done jack shit since you came back nor were you relivent then since you first set foot in here

Please.....Seriously.....get the fuck out.

The only reason why you returned is because the moment you left to heal your body, is because the spot light disappeared in a instant.

And when that moment happend, you just hated the fact that it wasnt on you.

So in due time, when we finally meet, ill yank back what to didn't deserve.

You go back go to what you always hated to be normal.

And you will at the hands of me get the reality check that you shoulda gotten a long time ago.

Folks, if the xwf wont take out the society trash, then i fucking will..

Last but not least the last thing i wanna get off my chest.

Now even though its a fatal 4 way match for my 50k, im going to refer to barney green.

Why just refer to barney green, its basiclly because all what it is an actually one on one match for my 50k.

Barney green, all i will say to you is that am i going to get the barney green of old the ass kicker or am i going to get the barney the dinosaur that laughs gayishly then passes out by drinking to much alcohol and waking up to find himself in a alley 7 in the morning not realizing that hes showing side man boobs?

Cause im the last mudda fucka on earth you wanna deal with pissed off. ]]> <![CDATA[I've Climbed Too High Just To Fall]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34243 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 22:17:05 -0700 Big D]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34243
And then I wake up.

It's not a fear of falling that terrorizes me in my sleep, at least not in the literal sense. The dream is a metaphor for what'll happen to my career if I lose Sunday night, whether I actually fall off the rafter or not. That is something I CANNOT allow to happen. From WWF to NWF, and now even XWF, I've always had to listen to people tell me I'm nothing more than a mid-carder. Despite winning a World Championship, regardless of all the Main Events I've been apart of, they still want to tell me I don't belong there. Leap if Faith is my opportunity to prove all of them wrong, and I refuse to allow myself to fail.

Nobody believed I'd lead a winning War Games team. They called everyone shit and laughed at my lack of intellectual picks. And yet the team dubbed as MINE managed to walk away with the victory. It didn't matter that I wasn't there 'til the end, wasn't my fault Bearded War Pig had to be replaced by one of the best in XWF history, or that Rain cared more about fucking his sister than focusing on the match. In the end, WE walked away with a tally in the Win column and nobody could take that away from us. Every choice I made for War Games ended up being the RIGHT one, and anyone who wants to argue it needs to go back and watch the tape.

The result of War Games earned me a Universal Title shot, another match nobody expected me to walk away from. They all thought Robert Main was gonna eat me alive, and what happened? I put on the performance of a lifetime and, had Donovan Blackwater not been there to take the fall, I may have very well walked away with that Title. That performance earned me Star of the Month, as well as the respect of my peers and fans alike.

And this match is gonna be no different. I'm gonna have the performance of Hell in a Cell, with the result of War Games. Leap of Faith is gonna be the moment I earn something for myself, no assistance from teammates, and no gimmies from management. If I can climb up the rafter and retrieve that briefcase, I will ascend to the top of XWF and no-one can tell me that I didn't earn it.

"Falling Apart" by Trust Company began to play over the PA system at the arena of XWF's final Live event before the pay-per-view. Though I wouldn't be competing that night, I wanted to make sure I was 100% for the biggest match of my life, there were a few things I needed to get off my chest. The fans were excited to hear it, as they burst into cheers as soon as my music bit.

As I pushed my way through the curtain and onto the ramp, everything moved in slow motion. From the bulbs of cameras flashing their lights to the arms of fans reaching out to touch me, everything was a blur of gray. I walked down the aisle at what seemed like .0001 miles an hour, almost unaware to the world around me. The weight of my upcoming match was finally hitting me as I prepared to make one final statement.

As I made my way towards the ring, my career began to flash before my eyes. I saw myself as a young rookie, losing 9 matches in a row before getting my first win. There was the various championships I held over the years from my first WWF X-Division Title to becoming the first ever WWF Triple Champion. The faces of all the people who held me back despite this were fresh in my mind. Then there was NWF and my opportunity to become World Heavyweight Champion. I could see myself jumping off the top rope and hitting a leg drop onto a chair to The Demond to win my only World Title. Flash forward to me being inducted into the NWF Hall of Fame, followed by my retirement, until the years later when I finally returned to the business. I could see all the things that had happened to me since joining XWF, the losses to people who have since been long gone and the few 24/7 Titles I'd held upon arrival. There was War Games and the entire process leading up to it and my Universal Championship match with Robert Main and Donovan Blackwater.

I saw everything on my way to the ring, an emotional roller coaster to say the least. It all felt like just yesterday, but was actually the accumulation of YEARS of hard work and dedication to the business I loved. My match Sunday was such a big moment, it only seemed just I reflect on everything that led me to this point.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the ring apron and everything was back to normal. I was no longer reliving the history of Big D in my head, I was in this arena and ready to cut my last promo; not just for this match, but possibly forever. The thought of that ate away at me, I didn't want my final ride into the sunset to be a loss. After all the shit I'd put up with throughout my career, hell, my LIFE, I deserved to go out on top and that's exactly what I intended to do. Without another thought, I slid into the ring, walked over, and grabbed a mic.

"I almost didn't join XWF," I began as I paced inside the ring. "When I decided to come out of retirement, I did alot of scouting around the different promotions in order to find a place to call home. There were plenty of options, various companies I could easily waltz my way into, win a World Title, and call it a career. But I didn't want to do it the easy way......"

"No, when I saw the level of talent XWF had to offer, it was easy to sign on the dotted line. If I had signed with anywhere else, there's a damn good chance I'd be the World Champion of THAT promotion right now! But I wouldn't have FELT like a World Champion........"

"There was no doubt in my mind that XWF was THE place to be in order to prove to myself, and all of the people who held me back in the past, that I AM one of the best! If I couldn't compete with the top stars here, then I might as well have stayed retired. And here we are, four months later, and I've been given the opportunity I always dreamed the WWF would've given me. But the past is the past, and all I can do is look ahead to tomorrow night!"

The fans gave me some cheers of encouragement, which I gave them a moment for before continuing.

"This match is gonna be dangerous. Someone IS gonna get hurt, but I'll be damned if it's gonna be me! I didn't come out of retirement just to accomplish nothing and end up a cripple in the process. I'm gonna show ALL of you that Big D belongs here! General Managers who won't book me properly, fans who aren't impressed with my in-ring work, and all the wrestlers who passed on being my partner for the upcoming Tag Team Tournament. Well guess what? Big D's onto bigger and better things anyway!"

The fans roared with excitement over my passionate words. They could feel I wasn't about to let myself, or anybody who believed in me, down. This was going to be my moment and none of my opponents would stop me from achieving my dream.

"There's people who genuinely believe Brian Storm has a chance," I scoffed, irritated by the fact that nobody was even IN this match. "They go on and on and ON about him being undefeated like it means something. No-one will check the facts and see that he hasn't beaten anybody of worth. Brian is like the special kid in class. He might have done well on his test, but that's because his was an easier version. Come Leap of Faith, he's gonna have to challenge himself just like the rest of us. The only way Brian Storm is gonna fly is if it's off the rafter!"

The fans who weren't Storm fans cheered at my words, while some of them made it known they had faith in the undefeated sensation. To each their own, maybe I WAS underestimating him in the same way others did me. Like I told them, we'd all find out once he's facing real competition.

"Apparently Robbie Bourbon is the favorite to win this match," I digressed as I walked over to the corner and perched my ass on the top turnbuckle. "Well, where IS your favorite? I haven't seen him backstage in quite a long time, where in the world could Robbie be? He isn't taking Lux's call for stocks, nor is he showing he gives a damn about this match!"

My heart began to pound a bit harder in my chest, as I got more intense.

"Robbie Bourbon LOOKS like a Dollar Tree action figure, and he ACTS like one, too!" I continued, my face burning hot with the fire of my desire to win. "Sure, he's good to play with for a while, but once you get too rough, he breaks. Well Big D doesn't play any other way BUT rough and I'm gonna toss Robbie around until he crumbles like the generic wrestler he truly is!......"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the very cheap action figure I had been comparing him to. With little effort, I squeezed it in my hands and let the pieces plummet to the ring below me. Afterwards, I hopped off the turnbuckle and leaned against the top rope casually.

"And then there's Donovan Blackwater......."

I shook my head in disgust at the very thought of the superhero wannabe.

"It seems I was right about my prediction Donny was filming some more Umbrella Academy stuff," I went on, snickering at the ridiculous thought that all of Blackwater's force powers were ACTUALLY real. "Or maybe it was X-Men? It's hard to tell anymore with Hollywood being so obsessed with superheroes anymore. Either way, seemed like some intense stuff, GREAT special effects........"

Being a bit of a jackass, I climbed to the second rope and jumped back to the center of the ring. As I did so, I waved my arms in the air in a ridiculous fashion and made a face that looked as if I just won the lottery.

"Oh my God!" I shouted in excitement. "I have powers, too! Did you guys see me fly?!?!"

The audience laughed at my mocking of Blackwater, which was my intention.

"All Blackwater has on me is gay jokes. Talking about purple diaries and owning 13 Reasons Why like suicide is some kind of joke. And all he could say that was ACTUALLY fact was that I won Star of the Month.......... Congratulations, Donovan, you've shown just how washed up you truly are. Do you know WHY I won Star of the Month? Because while you were busy jobbing to Robert Main, I was actually TRYING to win! You said this match is like a Christmas came early, well you're absolutely correct because Vinnie Lane gave you a gift you didn't deserve. The fact you're in this match with people who actually worked their asses off like me or Ned is a fucking disgrace. You haven't done shit since losing your TV Title to Lux, other than win War Games, but everyone tells me that don't mean shit, so what the hell does that say about YOU?!"

Even though I was in an intense moment, another thing Blackwater said in his promo popped into my head and made me laugh.

"And I loved how harsh your words for Brian Storm were," I pointed out with a grin. "Maybe I was right about you tickling his butthole after all! Are you sure it's not YOU who has the sparkly diary at home, filled with all your Gerard Way fan fiction?"

I chuckled a little, proud of myself for being so clever. Shit talking wasn't always my forte, I usually let my skills show IN the ring, but when I was on I was ON.

"But enough about the participants who are only in this match to fill up spots," I boldly stated, not caring who disagreed. "I'd like to talk about the two guys who, besides myself, actually have a slim hope of winning. 'Notorious' Ned Kaye........"

As soon as I spoke the Indy darling's name, the building began to fill with praise for him. The crowd cheered for Ned, louder than they were even cheering for me. This reaction was nothing new to me, to deny that Ned was the crowd favorite in this match would be ignorant.

"Yes, yes, everyone loves Ned," I stated. "And why shouldn't you? The kid works hard and has risen higher in the past few months than most wrestlers do in their lifetime. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Ned a little. When I first started in this business, I could only dream of the opportunities he's had. Our XWF careers have been pretty much parallel since we both made our debuts. Making quick impressions, opposing team captains at War Games, World Title shots we both lost, and now Leap of Faith......"

"It took me YEARS to get to the spot I'm in, I had to make sacrifices and put my body through so much hell even the devil would be frightened of it. Ned's a good guy and a hell of a rookie, but don't let that fool you. He doesn't have the experience I have, he hasn't been in any match that even comes CLOSE to this. Ned may be the future, but the future isn't today and it certainly won't be Leap of Faith. Right now is Big D's time and Ned Kaye is gonna have to wait his turn just like I had to do so many years ago. Until the time comes when I'm ready to hang the boots back up, Ned will have to be second fiddle to the greatness that is ME......"

I paused for a moment, thinking about my final opponent. Apparently I had gotten under his skin for comments I had made before, and it was justified.

"In my last promo I made a joke about Mastermind's mother......"

You could feel the live crowd tense up at my comments. They knew I had crossed a line, and so did I.

"That was uncalled for," I said with genuine care. "Even though Mastermind is an opponent of mine, I had no right to bring his dead mother into this. In my defense, I had NO idea his mom was dead because, quite frankly, I've never watched one of his stupid promos before he was announced in this match. But, as someone whose fiancè also lost her mother, as well as would never want to lose his own, I apologize from the bottom of my heart..........."

The fans were rather silent, shocked that I would apologize to Mastermind. In all honesty, I felt moreso like I was telling his mother sorry moreso than HIM.

"........but that doesn't mean I'm not going to rail YOU!"

The silence of the arena was replaced with roars of approval at my declaration. This last opponent was a man known for his intimidation, but I wasn't gonna let that affect me. With my eyes set on the prize, not even the Grim Reaper could prevent me from winning.

"Mastermind, you saved ME for last for the exact reason I saved YOU for last: because you're my biggest threat in this match, just like I am yours. But you know what? I don't care about threats, I care about results. When I was in high school, a cheerleader threatened to KILL me because I called her a slut but I'm still here, alive and kickin'! You accuse me of being a copycat, yet haven't provided a shred of evidence to back your claim. Sure, you could argue my parody of you and your stupid shirts was 'copying', but I only did it to show you what a fool you look like. And judging by your reaction to it, mission accomplished."

"You claim to be a master of minds, but I see you as nothing more than a fraud! All you do is intimidate your opponents and hope it throws them off their game once they're face to face with you. When you beat them, you make a shirt claiming you're so much better than they are, but what about when YOU lose? What happens when it's YOUR mind that is mastered? Absolutely nothing. You don't accept the truth and make a shirt showing someone got the better of you, if you did, there'd be a helluva alot of those shirts as of late! It's gonna be the same come tomorrow night!"

"Mastermind wants to call me a copycat, but he's the last guy I'd want to be like! Dude's been here on and off since 2014 and what does he have to show for it? Held a 24/7 Title three times? Well congratu-fucking-lations, I did that in the span of a couple months! Sure you had a TV Title run, but the competition back then was obviously nowhere near what it is now. How do I know that? Because I wasn't IN XWF back then and I AM the competition! You probably take our experience at War Games and judge me based upon that, well GO AHEAD! Tell yourself I tapped out to you because you were better than me, we'll see what happens when we see each other THIS time. The entire world knows Big D's gotten better since then and you're gonna find that out, as well!"

Even though more people believed in me now than they did at first, that didn't mean there weren't still skeptics. It wasn't just Mastermind, I though about Centurion's comments leading up to our match, as well. All I was to this Legend was some guy who could maybe become TV Champion, but not much more. Knowing that there were still people who truly BELIEVE this infuriated me.

"I'm tired of all the critics.........." I snarled, ready to tear the ring apart with rage. "People who say it takes more than just believing in yourself, you have to work for it.......... These ignorant swine think I don't work hard?! I've been preparing my mind and body for this match since I declared myself a participant! I'm not just sitting at home, eating donuts every night before crying myself to sleep. I'm working on my strength. I'm getting lungs conditioned to the point where I won't be gasping for breath while ascending the rafter. And I'm even making myself faster, because I LEARN from my mistakes and I'll never let another jackass like Blackwater cost ME a match again!"

"I won't let the Heavymetalweight and Federweight Championships be the only XWF Titles I hold. Star of the Month will NOT be the biggest thing I accomplish here! Come Leap of Faith, I'm walking away with that briefcase and there is NOTHING anyone can do to stop that! And that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth!"

As "Falling Apart" began to fill the arena once again, I tossed my microphone into the audience. That mic was gonna be a legendary souvenir for one lucky fan's collection. It would represent the last promo I did before solidifying myself as one of XWF's elite. Before I retrieved the 24/7 briefcase, before I cashed in to become THE Universal Champion, and before they added me to the XWF Top 50 where I belong.

As I made my way past the curtain, there was a line of wrestlers looking at me. Some of them clapped, others tried to speak with me, but I walked by all of them without a word. The time for talking was over, it was time to take action. My words had no meaning if I didn't back them up. But I wasn't going to fall back down to the bottom, I was gonna leap for the stars. I have faith.]]>
And then I wake up.

It's not a fear of falling that terrorizes me in my sleep, at least not in the literal sense. The dream is a metaphor for what'll happen to my career if I lose Sunday night, whether I actually fall off the rafter or not. That is something I CANNOT allow to happen. From WWF to NWF, and now even XWF, I've always had to listen to people tell me I'm nothing more than a mid-carder. Despite winning a World Championship, regardless of all the Main Events I've been apart of, they still want to tell me I don't belong there. Leap if Faith is my opportunity to prove all of them wrong, and I refuse to allow myself to fail.

Nobody believed I'd lead a winning War Games team. They called everyone shit and laughed at my lack of intellectual picks. And yet the team dubbed as MINE managed to walk away with the victory. It didn't matter that I wasn't there 'til the end, wasn't my fault Bearded War Pig had to be replaced by one of the best in XWF history, or that Rain cared more about fucking his sister than focusing on the match. In the end, WE walked away with a tally in the Win column and nobody could take that away from us. Every choice I made for War Games ended up being the RIGHT one, and anyone who wants to argue it needs to go back and watch the tape.

The result of War Games earned me a Universal Title shot, another match nobody expected me to walk away from. They all thought Robert Main was gonna eat me alive, and what happened? I put on the performance of a lifetime and, had Donovan Blackwater not been there to take the fall, I may have very well walked away with that Title. That performance earned me Star of the Month, as well as the respect of my peers and fans alike.

And this match is gonna be no different. I'm gonna have the performance of Hell in a Cell, with the result of War Games. Leap of Faith is gonna be the moment I earn something for myself, no assistance from teammates, and no gimmies from management. If I can climb up the rafter and retrieve that briefcase, I will ascend to the top of XWF and no-one can tell me that I didn't earn it.

"Falling Apart" by Trust Company began to play over the PA system at the arena of XWF's final Live event before the pay-per-view. Though I wouldn't be competing that night, I wanted to make sure I was 100% for the biggest match of my life, there were a few things I needed to get off my chest. The fans were excited to hear it, as they burst into cheers as soon as my music bit.

As I pushed my way through the curtain and onto the ramp, everything moved in slow motion. From the bulbs of cameras flashing their lights to the arms of fans reaching out to touch me, everything was a blur of gray. I walked down the aisle at what seemed like .0001 miles an hour, almost unaware to the world around me. The weight of my upcoming match was finally hitting me as I prepared to make one final statement.

As I made my way towards the ring, my career began to flash before my eyes. I saw myself as a young rookie, losing 9 matches in a row before getting my first win. There was the various championships I held over the years from my first WWF X-Division Title to becoming the first ever WWF Triple Champion. The faces of all the people who held me back despite this were fresh in my mind. Then there was NWF and my opportunity to become World Heavyweight Champion. I could see myself jumping off the top rope and hitting a leg drop onto a chair to The Demond to win my only World Title. Flash forward to me being inducted into the NWF Hall of Fame, followed by my retirement, until the years later when I finally returned to the business. I could see all the things that had happened to me since joining XWF, the losses to people who have since been long gone and the few 24/7 Titles I'd held upon arrival. There was War Games and the entire process leading up to it and my Universal Championship match with Robert Main and Donovan Blackwater.

I saw everything on my way to the ring, an emotional roller coaster to say the least. It all felt like just yesterday, but was actually the accumulation of YEARS of hard work and dedication to the business I loved. My match Sunday was such a big moment, it only seemed just I reflect on everything that led me to this point.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the ring apron and everything was back to normal. I was no longer reliving the history of Big D in my head, I was in this arena and ready to cut my last promo; not just for this match, but possibly forever. The thought of that ate away at me, I didn't want my final ride into the sunset to be a loss. After all the shit I'd put up with throughout my career, hell, my LIFE, I deserved to go out on top and that's exactly what I intended to do. Without another thought, I slid into the ring, walked over, and grabbed a mic.

"I almost didn't join XWF," I began as I paced inside the ring. "When I decided to come out of retirement, I did alot of scouting around the different promotions in order to find a place to call home. There were plenty of options, various companies I could easily waltz my way into, win a World Title, and call it a career. But I didn't want to do it the easy way......"

"No, when I saw the level of talent XWF had to offer, it was easy to sign on the dotted line. If I had signed with anywhere else, there's a damn good chance I'd be the World Champion of THAT promotion right now! But I wouldn't have FELT like a World Champion........"

"There was no doubt in my mind that XWF was THE place to be in order to prove to myself, and all of the people who held me back in the past, that I AM one of the best! If I couldn't compete with the top stars here, then I might as well have stayed retired. And here we are, four months later, and I've been given the opportunity I always dreamed the WWF would've given me. But the past is the past, and all I can do is look ahead to tomorrow night!"

The fans gave me some cheers of encouragement, which I gave them a moment for before continuing.

"This match is gonna be dangerous. Someone IS gonna get hurt, but I'll be damned if it's gonna be me! I didn't come out of retirement just to accomplish nothing and end up a cripple in the process. I'm gonna show ALL of you that Big D belongs here! General Managers who won't book me properly, fans who aren't impressed with my in-ring work, and all the wrestlers who passed on being my partner for the upcoming Tag Team Tournament. Well guess what? Big D's onto bigger and better things anyway!"

The fans roared with excitement over my passionate words. They could feel I wasn't about to let myself, or anybody who believed in me, down. This was going to be my moment and none of my opponents would stop me from achieving my dream.

"There's people who genuinely believe Brian Storm has a chance," I scoffed, irritated by the fact that nobody was even IN this match. "They go on and on and ON about him being undefeated like it means something. No-one will check the facts and see that he hasn't beaten anybody of worth. Brian is like the special kid in class. He might have done well on his test, but that's because his was an easier version. Come Leap of Faith, he's gonna have to challenge himself just like the rest of us. The only way Brian Storm is gonna fly is if it's off the rafter!"

The fans who weren't Storm fans cheered at my words, while some of them made it known they had faith in the undefeated sensation. To each their own, maybe I WAS underestimating him in the same way others did me. Like I told them, we'd all find out once he's facing real competition.

"Apparently Robbie Bourbon is the favorite to win this match," I digressed as I walked over to the corner and perched my ass on the top turnbuckle. "Well, where IS your favorite? I haven't seen him backstage in quite a long time, where in the world could Robbie be? He isn't taking Lux's call for stocks, nor is he showing he gives a damn about this match!"

My heart began to pound a bit harder in my chest, as I got more intense.

"Robbie Bourbon LOOKS like a Dollar Tree action figure, and he ACTS like one, too!" I continued, my face burning hot with the fire of my desire to win. "Sure, he's good to play with for a while, but once you get too rough, he breaks. Well Big D doesn't play any other way BUT rough and I'm gonna toss Robbie around until he crumbles like the generic wrestler he truly is!......"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the very cheap action figure I had been comparing him to. With little effort, I squeezed it in my hands and let the pieces plummet to the ring below me. Afterwards, I hopped off the turnbuckle and leaned against the top rope casually.

"And then there's Donovan Blackwater......."

I shook my head in disgust at the very thought of the superhero wannabe.

"It seems I was right about my prediction Donny was filming some more Umbrella Academy stuff," I went on, snickering at the ridiculous thought that all of Blackwater's force powers were ACTUALLY real. "Or maybe it was X-Men? It's hard to tell anymore with Hollywood being so obsessed with superheroes anymore. Either way, seemed like some intense stuff, GREAT special effects........"

Being a bit of a jackass, I climbed to the second rope and jumped back to the center of the ring. As I did so, I waved my arms in the air in a ridiculous fashion and made a face that looked as if I just won the lottery.

"Oh my God!" I shouted in excitement. "I have powers, too! Did you guys see me fly?!?!"

The audience laughed at my mocking of Blackwater, which was my intention.

"All Blackwater has on me is gay jokes. Talking about purple diaries and owning 13 Reasons Why like suicide is some kind of joke. And all he could say that was ACTUALLY fact was that I won Star of the Month.......... Congratulations, Donovan, you've shown just how washed up you truly are. Do you know WHY I won Star of the Month? Because while you were busy jobbing to Robert Main, I was actually TRYING to win! You said this match is like a Christmas came early, well you're absolutely correct because Vinnie Lane gave you a gift you didn't deserve. The fact you're in this match with people who actually worked their asses off like me or Ned is a fucking disgrace. You haven't done shit since losing your TV Title to Lux, other than win War Games, but everyone tells me that don't mean shit, so what the hell does that say about YOU?!"

Even though I was in an intense moment, another thing Blackwater said in his promo popped into my head and made me laugh.

"And I loved how harsh your words for Brian Storm were," I pointed out with a grin. "Maybe I was right about you tickling his butthole after all! Are you sure it's not YOU who has the sparkly diary at home, filled with all your Gerard Way fan fiction?"

I chuckled a little, proud of myself for being so clever. Shit talking wasn't always my forte, I usually let my skills show IN the ring, but when I was on I was ON.

"But enough about the participants who are only in this match to fill up spots," I boldly stated, not caring who disagreed. "I'd like to talk about the two guys who, besides myself, actually have a slim hope of winning. 'Notorious' Ned Kaye........"

As soon as I spoke the Indy darling's name, the building began to fill with praise for him. The crowd cheered for Ned, louder than they were even cheering for me. This reaction was nothing new to me, to deny that Ned was the crowd favorite in this match would be ignorant.

"Yes, yes, everyone loves Ned," I stated. "And why shouldn't you? The kid works hard and has risen higher in the past few months than most wrestlers do in their lifetime. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Ned a little. When I first started in this business, I could only dream of the opportunities he's had. Our XWF careers have been pretty much parallel since we both made our debuts. Making quick impressions, opposing team captains at War Games, World Title shots we both lost, and now Leap of Faith......"

"It took me YEARS to get to the spot I'm in, I had to make sacrifices and put my body through so much hell even the devil would be frightened of it. Ned's a good guy and a hell of a rookie, but don't let that fool you. He doesn't have the experience I have, he hasn't been in any match that even comes CLOSE to this. Ned may be the future, but the future isn't today and it certainly won't be Leap of Faith. Right now is Big D's time and Ned Kaye is gonna have to wait his turn just like I had to do so many years ago. Until the time comes when I'm ready to hang the boots back up, Ned will have to be second fiddle to the greatness that is ME......"

I paused for a moment, thinking about my final opponent. Apparently I had gotten under his skin for comments I had made before, and it was justified.

"In my last promo I made a joke about Mastermind's mother......"

You could feel the live crowd tense up at my comments. They knew I had crossed a line, and so did I.

"That was uncalled for," I said with genuine care. "Even though Mastermind is an opponent of mine, I had no right to bring his dead mother into this. In my defense, I had NO idea his mom was dead because, quite frankly, I've never watched one of his stupid promos before he was announced in this match. But, as someone whose fiancè also lost her mother, as well as would never want to lose his own, I apologize from the bottom of my heart..........."

The fans were rather silent, shocked that I would apologize to Mastermind. In all honesty, I felt moreso like I was telling his mother sorry moreso than HIM.

"........but that doesn't mean I'm not going to rail YOU!"

The silence of the arena was replaced with roars of approval at my declaration. This last opponent was a man known for his intimidation, but I wasn't gonna let that affect me. With my eyes set on the prize, not even the Grim Reaper could prevent me from winning.

"Mastermind, you saved ME for last for the exact reason I saved YOU for last: because you're my biggest threat in this match, just like I am yours. But you know what? I don't care about threats, I care about results. When I was in high school, a cheerleader threatened to KILL me because I called her a slut but I'm still here, alive and kickin'! You accuse me of being a copycat, yet haven't provided a shred of evidence to back your claim. Sure, you could argue my parody of you and your stupid shirts was 'copying', but I only did it to show you what a fool you look like. And judging by your reaction to it, mission accomplished."

"You claim to be a master of minds, but I see you as nothing more than a fraud! All you do is intimidate your opponents and hope it throws them off their game once they're face to face with you. When you beat them, you make a shirt claiming you're so much better than they are, but what about when YOU lose? What happens when it's YOUR mind that is mastered? Absolutely nothing. You don't accept the truth and make a shirt showing someone got the better of you, if you did, there'd be a helluva alot of those shirts as of late! It's gonna be the same come tomorrow night!"

"Mastermind wants to call me a copycat, but he's the last guy I'd want to be like! Dude's been here on and off since 2014 and what does he have to show for it? Held a 24/7 Title three times? Well congratu-fucking-lations, I did that in the span of a couple months! Sure you had a TV Title run, but the competition back then was obviously nowhere near what it is now. How do I know that? Because I wasn't IN XWF back then and I AM the competition! You probably take our experience at War Games and judge me based upon that, well GO AHEAD! Tell yourself I tapped out to you because you were better than me, we'll see what happens when we see each other THIS time. The entire world knows Big D's gotten better since then and you're gonna find that out, as well!"

Even though more people believed in me now than they did at first, that didn't mean there weren't still skeptics. It wasn't just Mastermind, I though about Centurion's comments leading up to our match, as well. All I was to this Legend was some guy who could maybe become TV Champion, but not much more. Knowing that there were still people who truly BELIEVE this infuriated me.

"I'm tired of all the critics.........." I snarled, ready to tear the ring apart with rage. "People who say it takes more than just believing in yourself, you have to work for it.......... These ignorant swine think I don't work hard?! I've been preparing my mind and body for this match since I declared myself a participant! I'm not just sitting at home, eating donuts every night before crying myself to sleep. I'm working on my strength. I'm getting lungs conditioned to the point where I won't be gasping for breath while ascending the rafter. And I'm even making myself faster, because I LEARN from my mistakes and I'll never let another jackass like Blackwater cost ME a match again!"

"I won't let the Heavymetalweight and Federweight Championships be the only XWF Titles I hold. Star of the Month will NOT be the biggest thing I accomplish here! Come Leap of Faith, I'm walking away with that briefcase and there is NOTHING anyone can do to stop that! And that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth!"

As "Falling Apart" began to fill the arena once again, I tossed my microphone into the audience. That mic was gonna be a legendary souvenir for one lucky fan's collection. It would represent the last promo I did before solidifying myself as one of XWF's elite. Before I retrieved the 24/7 briefcase, before I cashed in to become THE Universal Champion, and before they added me to the XWF Top 50 where I belong.

As I made my way past the curtain, there was a line of wrestlers looking at me. Some of them clapped, others tried to speak with me, but I walked by all of them without a word. The time for talking was over, it was time to take action. My words had no meaning if I didn't back them up. But I wasn't going to fall back down to the bottom, I was gonna leap for the stars. I have faith.]]> <![CDATA[I’m Back....]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34241 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 21:56:13 -0700 Shawn Warstein]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34241
“I’d really rather you didn’t smoke in here, you aren’t the only patient I have to see today…”

Fuzz jolts right up, smoke in his hand. Fuzz takes a drag off of the cigarette and blows the smoke right into the Doctors face. The Doctor coughs, as Fuzz just smiles.

“I’m paying you, just sit there and let me be me. This helps me think. Besides it’s totally legal here now. Why else would I fly all the way out to bum fuck nowhere Colorado?”

“I’m just saying isn’t it a slippery slope you’re on right now? Couldn’t this be a possible trigger for you in the future? Or hell even a trigger for right now?”

Fuzz looks at the Doctor, and ashes the clearly not a cigarette, cigarette on the table. Then with a sigh slams the cigarette onto the table extinguishing it in the process.

“If iT were a trigger then wouldn’t you know that? Isn’t that why I’m paying you the big bucks?”

“Yes and no. You’re paying me to keep you on the straight and narrow. I’m trying to stop you from becoming your old self.”

Fuzz lays back down on the couch and crosses his hands over his chest. Counting every breath he takes to help himself calm down.

“ What’s so bad about the old me? Seriously. The old me was a winner. Talented, feared, and most of all not a sheltered prick. I used to do what I want when I wanted and now…. now I get to sit back and watch while others stand on my pedestal, looking down upon me! So tell me where is my incentive to not fall back to the old me?”

The Doctor takes a deep sigh.

“ Well the almost certainty of death is a good start. You were injecting yourself with enough smack that it defied logic. Medical professionals thought you should’ve died numerous times. And for what? The rush? Chasing the dragon? No you were hiding something, and that’s what you’ve paid me to find out. What you are hiding from.”

Fuzz smiles.

“Trust me Doc, I’m not hiding or running from anything. I did all of that so when it was necessary it couldn’t be used against me. I needed the tolerance to have an advantage. I wasn’t built for the endgame of it all, but here I am. Wiser in my advanced age.”

“So you did all the drugs to build up a tolerance so they couldn’t be used against you? Seems plausible but highly unlikely…”

“Do you even know what I did? I was a snake in the grass for anyone that needed it, so long as they played ball with me and gave me what I wanted. If you needed someone taken out quickly and quietly, I could do it. Needed them to falter in the middle of the match? I can make that happen. Everything I dosed out over the years, I could take myself and not be affected one bit. I would build up my tolerance over the coming weeks, and strike when the timing was right.”

The Doctor writes on his pad, and then holds his hands in the praying position just under his chin.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You knew you were going to do it, but why sit there and pretend that they had any clue that it was coming. At any point did anyone see it coming and stop you?”

Fuzz begins to rock his head back and forth while in thought.

“Not really. I mean everyone knew what was going to happen, just no one knew when.”

“Sooooo….”

“So I guess you are right. I didn’t need to do it, but in my mind…”

“You drug addled mind…”

“Sure. In my drug addled mind it was necessary. I thought of it as a way to be one step ahead. If anyone grabbed my needle and turned it on myself, then I knew it would bother me. I’d actually get a rush off of it. Hell I even flight about what I would do if it happened. I would start the shake uncontrollably, start convulsions, and when they got right up to me I’d sit up smile in their face and watch the color drain. I guess you can say that I’ve gone too far on occasion, but I’ve always made it out by book or by crook.”

The Doctor begins scribbling on his notepad once again.

“So tell me, for my own curiosity. What’s the one thing regarding the needles in matches that you regret?”

Fuzz begins to nod his head.

“Kruzz.”

“Care to elaborate? Sounds like he would be a friend to you.”

Fuzz shakes his head.

“Nope. Didn’t even know the guy. It was sometime early 2000. I had taken some time off to gather myself. Jon Brown called and said he needs me back, but he needs me to make a bang on my way back. I said who, and he said anyone but Jayzon.”

“Jon Brown told you to do this?”

“Not exactly. He just said to make a statement. So I grabbed the first thing I had near me… an old insulin needle.”

“Wait you’re a diabetic?”

“No. My girlfriend at the time was. So I grabbed it and headed off to the show. Being a little shit firing up I knew I could score some dope anywhere in any town. I made the buy, and just waited for my victim. Kruzz just finished his match. I disguised myself as a camera man. The plan was simple, jump into the ring, jab him in the throat and watch as chaos ensued. Kruzz that night had a different plan.”

“How so?”

“Well he turned around at the last moment. He caught me with a right, and while defending myself I jammed the needle towards his as hard as I could. To this day I wish I didn’t, but it happened. Right in his eye. In that instant I became one of the most over wrestlers in the world. I was hated, but I was over. And from that point on my star rose to the highest of highs.”

“I mean besides maiming another human it doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Turns our Kruzz was a good dude. People in the back liked him. I became ostracized in the locker room. No one would dare talk to me. Any allies I had were gone. In one fell swoop I not only ended a mans career, but in the long run shortened mine. He lost his eye, I lost sight of everything. I became numb to the hate, to the side eyes. Even when people tried reaching out to me, I brushed them off. If I couldn’t use them, I didn’t need them.”

The Doctor looks up at the clock on the wall.

“Looks like we are all out of time this week, shall we pick it up again next? Right here where we left off?”

Fuzz slowly gets up and walks towards the door. His hand hanging on the doorknob. Fuzz turns around and smiles at the Doctor.

“Next week…. I don’t think I’ll be here.”

Fuzz walks out of the door and slowly shuts it behind him, as the camera fades to black.

THE AFTERTHOUGHT:

No matter how much someone thinks they change they will always fall right back into their old patterns. People think they can change, but they can’t. I can sit here and tell each and everyone of you that I am clean and sober, but that would be nothing more than a lie to make all of you feel better about yourselves. Sure I’m not injecting poison into my veins anymore, but the occasional beer or joint tends to cloud the claim of sobriety. There is just one itch that needs scratching. I look at it everyday. The needle that is just begging to be plunged into someone. It could really be anyone. Page, Main, Raven, Rigg, Vile… Etc. You all get the point don’t you? It’s just like riding a bike to me. I don’t care what side of the line you tow, you’re all on notice, and at Leap Of Faith I will do what I set out to. There is no sides anymore for me. I am done playing everyone else’s game, play time is over. Starting Sunday I am playing for keeps.

So that means you Centurion. No more nice guy. No more friendly over Twitter. No more. You said that I’m a bully? I’ve come back to eliminate the older guys and bully the younger ones? Good on you for noticing. You’re right and why did I start with you? Well because you’re the weakest and most frail of the entire bunch. You stand there on your ivory tower looking down upon me, but why? Is it that you see the end? Are you scared that you are one of the old dudes I’ve come to eliminate? I know you Centurion, you’re not scared, but you are getting a little nervous aren’t you?

I can sense it in you. When I was planning on coming back I reached out to you privately. I wanted you to know that I have changed. I wanted to offer up my help to you in anyway possible, and you rebuffed me. You ran lovingly back into James’ arms. Waiting for daddy to coddle you and tell you you’re great. My return wasn’t just about you, it was about everything. My ego wouldn’t allow me to stand still while I watched my peers fail.

That’s you.

I love it when people call out the obvious. Page and I couldn’t work together because of our egos. *Clap**Clap* you figured it all out there Dr. Phil. Yes Page and I are both Egocentric people, I never once said I wasn’t. That’s what happens when two alphas butt heads. It’s not going to work. That’s why you fit in so well with Apex…. notice how I’ve started dropping the Prophecy part? That’s because soon enough it’ll all be forgotten and you’ll be gone. It’s not every day that people find such perfect lap dogs that will jump when asked. Speak only when spoken to and above all else are loyal as shit. I’ll give you that, you are loyal, did Robert give you your favorite chew toy back after you pissed down your leg?

Ah who am I kidding the great Centurion wouldn’t back down from anyone, and wouldn’t take a backseat to anyone. Except for Apex, the New Wave and pretty much any other group you’ve been apart of. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Hell in your case never even the bridesmaid, more like a butch usher. The fact that you think I even care about winning is funny. I’ll step into the ring, wait for the bell, tap out right there, then just beat the fucking brakes off of you. You see the difference between your old age and mine…. well is huge.

I mean I think it’s funny that Centurion is saying that I’m basically retired, and this fucking guy hasn’t been around since War Games! I mean I’ve heard of taking some time off you heal your wounds. One week sure. Two ok pushing it, but damn almost two months off and still somehow you are booked? Seems crazy to me, but all that extra time with James seems to be paying off for you.

Let’s just get down to the brass tacks of it all. I don’t need you to like me, I don’t want you to like me. You want me gone from the XWF forever? Well then it’s really simple. Beat me to the point where I can’t come back without being embarrassed. You’re going to have to shame me out of the building, but you’re not going to do that. You’ve never been able to do that, I on the other hand as more than capable of making you look that way. 1999 Fuzz doesn’t need to do to, 2007 Fuzz isn’t here. You’ve got me currently. I’ve been waiting for the day that you eventually decide to come to your senses and say it for the world to hear. I’m Better than you.

I always have been, and I always will be. See you were right about one thing in all of this crap it was never about the accolades. It wasn’t about titles. No, it was about hurting people plain and simply. I’ve done that, as you can attest to. Now I’m going to read right into 2002 Fuzz’s bag of tricks. I’m going to make you bleed, I’m going to make you break, and most importantly of them all, I’m going to make you just like me.

You’ll be chasing the dragon. Once you get your first taste of it l, trust me, you’ll never want to come back down. In all of my years in this business I’ve never gotten the pleasure of jamming that needle into your skin. Not because I couldn’t, but because I always feel sorry for you. Sorry that you’d always be considered a second fiddle in any organization you and I happened to be in at the same time.

People always say that you should always punch up, and for the most part that’s what I’ve done my entire career. I’ve challenged myself in order to try and get better. Meanwhile you’ve been content with being in the middle. But just for you, just this once, I will punch down. I will aim my targets lower. It isn’t a coincidence that in my quest to take out Apex alone, that you are first on the list.

Drew used to be he weak link, now it’s you. Your name will only get you so far, same as me. But actions will dictate where we go from here. I will not stop, I won’t stop for the bell, I won’t stop after the EMTs come. Centurion your days here are coming to a very quick end.

You are saying that Noah is just like me, but younger. How nice of you to notice that. I mean it’s not like we got off on the best of feet with each other, but I can see it now. And yes I’m sure at some point Noah and I will have to go our separate ways, but not like you think. See there hasn’t been anyone like me, so you think we’d turn on each other before we’ve even competed together? Shit your fucking stupid as fuck you dumb cunt. Wow he’s rubbing off on me. Don’t you see it now Centurion? The plan I’ve had since I came back? I will lay it all out for you.

I wanted to take out Apex. I join Page at War Games. I make sure Main knows I’m a threat. I don’t help Page. I take you out in the process. Eventually knowing that James would try to do right by his boy, crush you into oblivion. Get a sick Cunt of a partner, take the Tag titles, then ascend to the top and destroy Main…..

That last part might actually happen Sunday, and at Page’s hands, but things can change and plans can be adjusted. Just know one thing Cent, this was always in the cards and if you think that I didn’t know this was going to happen just like this, then you really don’t know me as well as you should by now. With all of that said you will still fight, and that will be just a sweet thing to watch, as you try with your broken body. I want you to know Centurion I’m done with you after this.

So all of this between the two of us has been fun, but it is

Final.

And you thinking you can beat me and get one over on me...

Is just a Fantasy.]]>
“I’d really rather you didn’t smoke in here, you aren’t the only patient I have to see today…”

Fuzz jolts right up, smoke in his hand. Fuzz takes a drag off of the cigarette and blows the smoke right into the Doctors face. The Doctor coughs, as Fuzz just smiles.

“I’m paying you, just sit there and let me be me. This helps me think. Besides it’s totally legal here now. Why else would I fly all the way out to bum fuck nowhere Colorado?”

“I’m just saying isn’t it a slippery slope you’re on right now? Couldn’t this be a possible trigger for you in the future? Or hell even a trigger for right now?”

Fuzz looks at the Doctor, and ashes the clearly not a cigarette, cigarette on the table. Then with a sigh slams the cigarette onto the table extinguishing it in the process.

“If iT were a trigger then wouldn’t you know that? Isn’t that why I’m paying you the big bucks?”

“Yes and no. You’re paying me to keep you on the straight and narrow. I’m trying to stop you from becoming your old self.”

Fuzz lays back down on the couch and crosses his hands over his chest. Counting every breath he takes to help himself calm down.

“ What’s so bad about the old me? Seriously. The old me was a winner. Talented, feared, and most of all not a sheltered prick. I used to do what I want when I wanted and now…. now I get to sit back and watch while others stand on my pedestal, looking down upon me! So tell me where is my incentive to not fall back to the old me?”

The Doctor takes a deep sigh.

“ Well the almost certainty of death is a good start. You were injecting yourself with enough smack that it defied logic. Medical professionals thought you should’ve died numerous times. And for what? The rush? Chasing the dragon? No you were hiding something, and that’s what you’ve paid me to find out. What you are hiding from.”

Fuzz smiles.

“Trust me Doc, I’m not hiding or running from anything. I did all of that so when it was necessary it couldn’t be used against me. I needed the tolerance to have an advantage. I wasn’t built for the endgame of it all, but here I am. Wiser in my advanced age.”

“So you did all the drugs to build up a tolerance so they couldn’t be used against you? Seems plausible but highly unlikely…”

“Do you even know what I did? I was a snake in the grass for anyone that needed it, so long as they played ball with me and gave me what I wanted. If you needed someone taken out quickly and quietly, I could do it. Needed them to falter in the middle of the match? I can make that happen. Everything I dosed out over the years, I could take myself and not be affected one bit. I would build up my tolerance over the coming weeks, and strike when the timing was right.”

The Doctor writes on his pad, and then holds his hands in the praying position just under his chin.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You knew you were going to do it, but why sit there and pretend that they had any clue that it was coming. At any point did anyone see it coming and stop you?”

Fuzz begins to rock his head back and forth while in thought.

“Not really. I mean everyone knew what was going to happen, just no one knew when.”

“Sooooo….”

“So I guess you are right. I didn’t need to do it, but in my mind…”

“You drug addled mind…”

“Sure. In my drug addled mind it was necessary. I thought of it as a way to be one step ahead. If anyone grabbed my needle and turned it on myself, then I knew it would bother me. I’d actually get a rush off of it. Hell I even flight about what I would do if it happened. I would start the shake uncontrollably, start convulsions, and when they got right up to me I’d sit up smile in their face and watch the color drain. I guess you can say that I’ve gone too far on occasion, but I’ve always made it out by book or by crook.”

The Doctor begins scribbling on his notepad once again.

“So tell me, for my own curiosity. What’s the one thing regarding the needles in matches that you regret?”

Fuzz begins to nod his head.

“Kruzz.”

“Care to elaborate? Sounds like he would be a friend to you.”

Fuzz shakes his head.

“Nope. Didn’t even know the guy. It was sometime early 2000. I had taken some time off to gather myself. Jon Brown called and said he needs me back, but he needs me to make a bang on my way back. I said who, and he said anyone but Jayzon.”

“Jon Brown told you to do this?”

“Not exactly. He just said to make a statement. So I grabbed the first thing I had near me… an old insulin needle.”

“Wait you’re a diabetic?”

“No. My girlfriend at the time was. So I grabbed it and headed off to the show. Being a little shit firing up I knew I could score some dope anywhere in any town. I made the buy, and just waited for my victim. Kruzz just finished his match. I disguised myself as a camera man. The plan was simple, jump into the ring, jab him in the throat and watch as chaos ensued. Kruzz that night had a different plan.”

“How so?”

“Well he turned around at the last moment. He caught me with a right, and while defending myself I jammed the needle towards his as hard as I could. To this day I wish I didn’t, but it happened. Right in his eye. In that instant I became one of the most over wrestlers in the world. I was hated, but I was over. And from that point on my star rose to the highest of highs.”

“I mean besides maiming another human it doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Turns our Kruzz was a good dude. People in the back liked him. I became ostracized in the locker room. No one would dare talk to me. Any allies I had were gone. In one fell swoop I not only ended a mans career, but in the long run shortened mine. He lost his eye, I lost sight of everything. I became numb to the hate, to the side eyes. Even when people tried reaching out to me, I brushed them off. If I couldn’t use them, I didn’t need them.”

The Doctor looks up at the clock on the wall.

“Looks like we are all out of time this week, shall we pick it up again next? Right here where we left off?”

Fuzz slowly gets up and walks towards the door. His hand hanging on the doorknob. Fuzz turns around and smiles at the Doctor.

“Next week…. I don’t think I’ll be here.”

Fuzz walks out of the door and slowly shuts it behind him, as the camera fades to black.

THE AFTERTHOUGHT:

No matter how much someone thinks they change they will always fall right back into their old patterns. People think they can change, but they can’t. I can sit here and tell each and everyone of you that I am clean and sober, but that would be nothing more than a lie to make all of you feel better about yourselves. Sure I’m not injecting poison into my veins anymore, but the occasional beer or joint tends to cloud the claim of sobriety. There is just one itch that needs scratching. I look at it everyday. The needle that is just begging to be plunged into someone. It could really be anyone. Page, Main, Raven, Rigg, Vile… Etc. You all get the point don’t you? It’s just like riding a bike to me. I don’t care what side of the line you tow, you’re all on notice, and at Leap Of Faith I will do what I set out to. There is no sides anymore for me. I am done playing everyone else’s game, play time is over. Starting Sunday I am playing for keeps.

So that means you Centurion. No more nice guy. No more friendly over Twitter. No more. You said that I’m a bully? I’ve come back to eliminate the older guys and bully the younger ones? Good on you for noticing. You’re right and why did I start with you? Well because you’re the weakest and most frail of the entire bunch. You stand there on your ivory tower looking down upon me, but why? Is it that you see the end? Are you scared that you are one of the old dudes I’ve come to eliminate? I know you Centurion, you’re not scared, but you are getting a little nervous aren’t you?

I can sense it in you. When I was planning on coming back I reached out to you privately. I wanted you to know that I have changed. I wanted to offer up my help to you in anyway possible, and you rebuffed me. You ran lovingly back into James’ arms. Waiting for daddy to coddle you and tell you you’re great. My return wasn’t just about you, it was about everything. My ego wouldn’t allow me to stand still while I watched my peers fail.

That’s you.

I love it when people call out the obvious. Page and I couldn’t work together because of our egos. *Clap**Clap* you figured it all out there Dr. Phil. Yes Page and I are both Egocentric people, I never once said I wasn’t. That’s what happens when two alphas butt heads. It’s not going to work. That’s why you fit in so well with Apex…. notice how I’ve started dropping the Prophecy part? That’s because soon enough it’ll all be forgotten and you’ll be gone. It’s not every day that people find such perfect lap dogs that will jump when asked. Speak only when spoken to and above all else are loyal as shit. I’ll give you that, you are loyal, did Robert give you your favorite chew toy back after you pissed down your leg?

Ah who am I kidding the great Centurion wouldn’t back down from anyone, and wouldn’t take a backseat to anyone. Except for Apex, the New Wave and pretty much any other group you’ve been apart of. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Hell in your case never even the bridesmaid, more like a butch usher. The fact that you think I even care about winning is funny. I’ll step into the ring, wait for the bell, tap out right there, then just beat the fucking brakes off of you. You see the difference between your old age and mine…. well is huge.

I mean I think it’s funny that Centurion is saying that I’m basically retired, and this fucking guy hasn’t been around since War Games! I mean I’ve heard of taking some time off you heal your wounds. One week sure. Two ok pushing it, but damn almost two months off and still somehow you are booked? Seems crazy to me, but all that extra time with James seems to be paying off for you.

Let’s just get down to the brass tacks of it all. I don’t need you to like me, I don’t want you to like me. You want me gone from the XWF forever? Well then it’s really simple. Beat me to the point where I can’t come back without being embarrassed. You’re going to have to shame me out of the building, but you’re not going to do that. You’ve never been able to do that, I on the other hand as more than capable of making you look that way. 1999 Fuzz doesn’t need to do to, 2007 Fuzz isn’t here. You’ve got me currently. I’ve been waiting for the day that you eventually decide to come to your senses and say it for the world to hear. I’m Better than you.

I always have been, and I always will be. See you were right about one thing in all of this crap it was never about the accolades. It wasn’t about titles. No, it was about hurting people plain and simply. I’ve done that, as you can attest to. Now I’m going to read right into 2002 Fuzz’s bag of tricks. I’m going to make you bleed, I’m going to make you break, and most importantly of them all, I’m going to make you just like me.

You’ll be chasing the dragon. Once you get your first taste of it l, trust me, you’ll never want to come back down. In all of my years in this business I’ve never gotten the pleasure of jamming that needle into your skin. Not because I couldn’t, but because I always feel sorry for you. Sorry that you’d always be considered a second fiddle in any organization you and I happened to be in at the same time.

People always say that you should always punch up, and for the most part that’s what I’ve done my entire career. I’ve challenged myself in order to try and get better. Meanwhile you’ve been content with being in the middle. But just for you, just this once, I will punch down. I will aim my targets lower. It isn’t a coincidence that in my quest to take out Apex alone, that you are first on the list.

Drew used to be he weak link, now it’s you. Your name will only get you so far, same as me. But actions will dictate where we go from here. I will not stop, I won’t stop for the bell, I won’t stop after the EMTs come. Centurion your days here are coming to a very quick end.

You are saying that Noah is just like me, but younger. How nice of you to notice that. I mean it’s not like we got off on the best of feet with each other, but I can see it now. And yes I’m sure at some point Noah and I will have to go our separate ways, but not like you think. See there hasn’t been anyone like me, so you think we’d turn on each other before we’ve even competed together? Shit your fucking stupid as fuck you dumb cunt. Wow he’s rubbing off on me. Don’t you see it now Centurion? The plan I’ve had since I came back? I will lay it all out for you.

I wanted to take out Apex. I join Page at War Games. I make sure Main knows I’m a threat. I don’t help Page. I take you out in the process. Eventually knowing that James would try to do right by his boy, crush you into oblivion. Get a sick Cunt of a partner, take the Tag titles, then ascend to the top and destroy Main…..

That last part might actually happen Sunday, and at Page’s hands, but things can change and plans can be adjusted. Just know one thing Cent, this was always in the cards and if you think that I didn’t know this was going to happen just like this, then you really don’t know me as well as you should by now. With all of that said you will still fight, and that will be just a sweet thing to watch, as you try with your broken body. I want you to know Centurion I’m done with you after this.

So all of this between the two of us has been fun, but it is

Final.

And you thinking you can beat me and get one over on me...

Is just a Fantasy.]]> <![CDATA[Un espejo puede esconder mucho]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34240 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 21:54:15 -0700 Hanari Carnes]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34240 [Image: 6SHVGCV.gif]

A Mirror Can Hide A Lot

nar·cis·sist
/ˈnärsəsəst/
Learn to pronounce
noun
a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves.
"narcissists who think the world revolves around them"

Hanari Carnes stood in the mirror of his London Hotel, just as the almighty Tony Santos told him to do. He looked at himself, his flawless figure, his perfect white teeth and hair that Brad Pitt would die for, his million dollar smile. He looked at himself in the mirror, and he tried to take Tony's words to heart. What did he see when he looked in the mirror? Did he see the confident "insurgent" challenger that Tony said he was, or did he see just another victim to the worlds most famous street vendor.

Churro's, half price!

Hanari laughed a little to himself. It is good to laugh at the little things sometimes. Life is too short to be so uptight.

Was he a narcissist? He didn't think so. Just because he enjoyed wearing his suits, his scarfs, his Bruno Magli shoes. How could someone be mad at him for wanting to better himself? He was a kid who came from nothing and made himself into something. He was the rags-to-riches story that the XWF needed. The public ate that shit up. He didn't need ghost dad, self-injury humor, and chest-puffing words that were shallower than the cardboard box he looked like he lived in.

Hanari was not short of his own flaws, but he was human. Nobody was perfect, that is what makes human's humans. The more he stared into the mirror, the more he saw her face. He saw her eyes, her pleading eyes, and the shook of sheer anguish and terror as her limbs were hacked off one by one. Bit by bone-splitting bit. He saw his mother, coming home from work with bags under her eyes after working 18 hours at two combined jobs and only having enough money to buy a half serving of food each. He saw a nation crumbling before his very eyes and being exploited as a tourist destination, all of their resources being pooled into one or two destinations while the rest of the country lived in deplorable conditions.

Hanari choked up a bit, the the almighty Tony Santos (he said it himself), told him to look in the mirror, so that is what he is doing.

Hanari saw his friend Tomás and Fernando. He saw the car on fire. He saw the police, the cocaine, he could hear the screams. Hanari looked into his own soul and all he saw staring back at him was a survivor. A human. A man who adapted, grew, overcame. A man who didn't hide behind his past, but pushed it of his mind completely.

Hanari was confident, but not because of his past. He was confident because of the present.

Maybe Tony was onto something here. Maybe Tony was some sort of scholar, some deep intellectual thinker.

No. Tony Santos was a raving mad-man who feels pressure for the first time since the ink on his new contract dried. Tony Santos felt like he was crazy, because Tony Santos needed an excuse.

His confidence was as fragile as what people would believe. If he came off as crazy, and reaaaaallllyyy pulled it off, he would be. He liked pain......he was nothing but a masochist with daddy issues. Hanari stared at the mirror and all he saw was the finished product. All he saw was a man with the heart of a lion and the will of a soldier. All he saw.....was a champion.

Earlier That Day

Hanari walked up and down the streets of London, taking in the scenary. It was really a nice city, despite all their issues. What was it with all the issues lately?

He smiled as he hailed a cab, managing to stay upright, and asked the driver to pull up to Kensal Green Cemetery. A close friend of his was buried there. A man who once thought he could overcome his issues with simply being crazy, with simply trying to intimidate everyone around him by broadcasting how crazy he was. His friend had come to London to pursue a career in fighting, but he was a gimmick. He said he was paranoid, pretty fucking angry, a little crazy, and he let a little fame and success go to his head.

He died in that ring.

Hanari heard the gravel and dirt crunch under his designer shoes as he made his way to the patch of grass containing his friend. He bent down, running his hand over the name in the engraved stone. The epitaph read "The Craziest Bastard That Ever Lived". Hanari pulled out a lighter, and lit it. Holding it in the air, he looked up to the sky. Flipping the top back down and putting the lighter back in his pants pockets he stared at the now permanent home for his one-time friend.

"Chu crazy basard" he said. "Chor demons caught up to chu, and eventually, your words couldn't back up chor actions. Tony Santos es on de same path.....when chu see him, tell him I said hola......then slap the taste out of his mouth for thinking Hanari Carnes was some puta........"

He stood up, and wiped a small tear from his eye. He was going to win this title, he was going to topple the Santos empire, and he was going to show the incumbent pyschopath that crazy doesn't always equal Hart.

Pun intended.

Back in his hotel room, Hanari had seen all he needed to see. He didn't need to explain himself to anyone. He saw what the mirror hid, and he was satisfied. The fire that burned inside him would stay inside him, and his flaws would come and go. He saw who he was, and he accepted it.

Thank you, Tony.

Hanari stepped away from the mirror, and grabbed a rocks glass from the room desk. Walking over to the mini-bar he filled it with ice, and pulled his tequila flask out of his pocket.

He walked back over to the mirror. Looking at the champion he saw staring back, he toasted.

"Here's to ya" he said with a smile.

There was a knock on his door.

"Room service."

Damn was the British accent sexy. Fixing his collar he smiled once again and walked to the door.

shameless womanizer echoed in his ears as he answered the door. She was wearing a tight skirt, showing a lot of cleavage.

"When Hanari looks in de mirror, what does he see? He sees intelligence, he see's passion, he sees survival, but mos' of all Missa Santos, he see confidence. Hanari es a very confident person, why wouldn't he be? What kind of potential campeón would he be if he walked aroun' saying "I suck, mang, chu can beat me an don' even need to try!" Eso es estupido! That es stupid mang! But es de confidence he see a facade? Is it fake, masking "insecurities" that lie deep within. No, mang, but Hanari es happy that chu paid attention to his promo."

*Hanari rolls his eyes*

"Hanari has dem, Tony, jus' like chu do. But, much like chu did, Hanari took them and flipped them on their culo. He use them as motivation. He use them to propel himself to the standard he keep for himself. Nice try, Tony, Hanari applaud chor effort, but chu are no goin' to get under dis thick Dominican skin, chico! Reverse pyschology, mang, et es a hell of an thing! Chu try to accuse Hanari of doing the same thing chu es doing to make yaself feel, and look, better. What es Hanari talking about? Well, the brash outer layer mang. Chu es so nervous about losing that belt that chu es making shit up, mang!

And most importantly, you convince yourself that you're much greater than you truly are.

There es no convincing here mang, Hanari KNOWS.

Your mediocrity is only matched by the amount of effort you put into portraying a level of grandiose to the outside world.

Bruh, chu es too much. Hanari es no trying to impress anyone. Hanari es simply living de good life, dressing how he wants, driving what he wants, living where he wants. Jus' because chu es a champion in XWF with a big name and a hefty pay check and want to dress like a homeless person combined with a meth addict, that es chor prerogative. Do not try to project YET ANOTHER insecurity onto Hanari. If chu es jealous, say so, and Hanari would respect chu a lot more, ese. Jus' saying. Hanari neva say you don't deserve the title, mang. In fact, he has been praising you this entire time. Maybe all de booze has gone to your head. Chu literally ACKNOWLEDGE that Hanari was praising chu, maybe even too much, in ya second "promo", and now all of de sudden Hanari es saying chu no deserve it? No, mang, chu won it, chu have defended it, chu deserve it. But Hanari es the only member on dis current roster that can, and will, take it from chu. Don't switch up arguments, hermano, it es no a good look. Makes chu look estupido. Crazy es okay, but stupid and crazy, not good bedfellows.

Apparently, chu can quote a thought in todays day an' age. Apparently, it es acceptable to QUOTE someone's THOUGHTS......Hanari scracthes his head at dis. Why no quote his words? Why no focus on the language coming out of dis perfect mouth? Hanari knows why, because chu had nothing to say. Chu know Hanari es right, and you es, for de first time in a long time, desperate. Chu feel the pressure, chu feel the sweat wetting ya unibrow. Chu actually think inside dat warped melon of yours that Hanari can actually beat chu.

........Chu es goddamn right.

Hanari ask de question when he first open dis promo, what does he see when he look in de mirror. Well, want to know what he sees when he look at Tony Santos? Probably not, but Hanari es goin' to tell ya anyways.

Hanari see an alchohalic crybaby. Hanari see a young child, still stuck in a tormeted past, who es searching for validation. A child who tells de world he no give a fuck if dey like him, cuz he no like himself. Everytime chu open ya mouth, its about WHY chu is a great campeón. Chu beat dis person and dat person, chu es crazy, chu like pain, chu es dis and chu es dat. Chu always try to explain to us WHY chu hold dat belt, almost as if chu no believe deep down that chu truly deserve it. Maybe when chu accuse Hanari of saying dat, which he never did, maybe that was the inner Tony Santos screaming into de mirror while smearing his lipstick and clawing his cheeks mang. Maybe dat was the inner Tony Santos cryin' out for help, because he know that his days are numbered. Maybe dat was de inner Tony Santos telling de world that he cannot beat Hanari Carnes, and he has to tell everyone how great he es so that somewhere inside he believe it himself.

Hanari never make excuses. Hanari never explain hisself. Hanari come out and say he es going to beat chu, and his words have conviction. His words have purpose. Hanari beat Mastermind, Sí, but he no use it as de reason he es going to beat chu. Beating him es de reason Hanari es no scared coming into dis match, but every competitor es different, and every competitor has the ability to slip up. Chu es no god Tony, chu es a mortal man, and chu makes mistakes. Chu said youself, chu es flawed. So es Hanari, the difference is that Hanari biggest flaw is actually his biggest strength.........

His lack of experience.

Why Tony Santos es out there shouting to de heavens why he is so great, Hanari es soaking it all in. Dis is all fresh, all knew, and every new match es a new experience. Hanari es learning as he goes, so why wouldn't he be confident. New challenges lead to new accomplishments, and Hanari es destined for de history books! Hanari has no reason to fear chu, and no reason to believe he CAN'T win.

I looked my "insecurities" in the face, accepted my bullshit, and embraced the good, and the bad, of the man you see laying in this cab.

Does chu want a cookie? A trophy? Does chu need a hug, or a pat on de back? It doesn't make chu a hero, Tony, it makes chu an adult. Life goes on, and we learn to accept, adapt to change, and move on. Chu es throwing it out there like you are some superhero with emotional immunity when all chu es is a normal dirtbag who happened to be jus' crazy enough to last this long. We all overcome things, it is prt of life. Hanari es proud of chu that ya face ya demons head on and made something out of it, but that is no goin' to stop him from ripping your arm out of chor socket, mang. Chu claim chu es crazy enough to tear Hanari apart.......

Good.

Chu isn't de only one who likes pain. Hanari grows from it, gets better from it, and jus' like chu, thrives in it. Dis is setting up to be a violent match. And a long one.........

While chu are over here quoting scenarios that ONLY Hanari would know.....which still baffles him, is chu a mind reader also?....Hanari noticed chu STILL has no mention de TYPE of match dis es. It es an Iron Man match. Dis is a match where your daddy issues don't matter. Where your demons can't haunt you. This es a match of endurance, and will to win. Dis is a match where only de strong survive. All Hanari has heard from chu, Tony, is excuses as to why chu still have that belt. Discouraging your opponents. Making fun of dem. Truth is, chu just had experience watching dem wrestle before. They were dey devils chu know. Hanari es de devil chu don't. Chu can say whatever chu want about chor previous opponen's, but Hanari es a new breed, a viscious breed, and a the last of a dying one. Chu think Hanari es a narcissist because he likes nice things and has de will to win? No. Chu es a narcissist because chu hide behind chor "flaws" and claim they are dey reason you es padded room crazy. Now, dey es the reason chu are a flash in de pan. Chu es unique, different, chu make people laugh and cry in de same sentence. Chu deliver comic relief with harsh realism and gravel in ya voice. Ya balls dropped and chu pull de wool over all of our eyes every time de camera light comes on. Chu see through Hanari? Everyone sees through Hanari? Tony....chu es plexi-glass. Don't throw stones if ya live in a glass house. And don't be mad when Hanari takes YOUR title back to his........

Look in de mirror, take a good hard look. All dese things chu think make chu great, Hanari just sees another arm to break, another title to take. Hanari see's chu pump chor self up, and Hanari will no lie, he respect chu, but after chu flaunted chorself verbally like a runway model, Hanari jus' plain no like chu. Hanari respect chu enough not to break your arm, but of it happens.....eh, it happens, chico.

It's just business, mang. Tis all it has ever been.

Viva el dominicano!

Viva el Leap of Faith

Viva el Hart Title

Viva el Hanari Carnes!

]]>

A Mirror Can Hide A Lot

Viva el dominicano!

Viva el Leap of Faith

Viva el Hart Title

Viva el Hanari Carnes!

]]> <![CDATA[Wild Side]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34239 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 20:55:07 -0700 Bigg FN Rigg]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34239
The wind howled like a lone wolf, crying out for the brethren he had lost. Palm trees blew against the windows of a tall brick mansion that would make the Corleone compound look like a shack. The house was dark, nothing stirring except for one window toward the back with still glowed with life. Inside the window, behind a desk, I sat. My feet propped upon the desktop, a glass of whiskey on the rocks in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. A lot had changed over the years, I had changed. No longer was I a man with a hard-outer shell that protected a big heart, no. Now all that laid beneath the hard-outer shell was a bottomless pit of darkness. No longer did I dress in what some would call “monkey suits”, no that Bigg Rigg went out of style with JNCO Jeans and Pogs. Instead, I wore what I wore every day; a pair of faded blue jeans, a black t-shirt and my beloved black leather biker jacket. No longer was my hair short and my face clean shaven like a corporate monkey. Instead, my hair hung to my shoulders, a glorious black flowing mane and my face was covered in a tight, well-groomed beard. The mob, that secret word that I was forbidden to mention for so long was beneath me now. All my enemies as well as all my associates who stood in the way of what I desired, all suddenly disappeared without a trace and without warning. I wasn’t a boss anymore; I was THE boss. The only associates who stood by me from my old life were Tony Fragale, Jullian Giovanni, my brothers Dom and Al, my brother-in-law Vinnie, my wife Laura and the man that I considered closer than a brother, my consigliere Danny Gonzalez. I know, that seems like a shit ton of people. But really, seeing as I had an army of over a hundred associates, it really was quite a small number.

Danny sat beside my desk, clad in his usual long jean shorts which hung just above the ankle; which for the life of my I could not comprehend why one would want to wear shorts which only exposed an inch of leg. With the shorts, he wore his brown tims and white wife beater tank top. He sipped on a “Four Loco” malt beverage, his favorite drink and, kind of his crutch. I set my glass of whiskey down onto my expensive solid gold desk, well onto a coaster that sat upon the desk. Shit, that desk is worth more than the lives of everyone on the XWF roster; I wouldn’t set the drink directly on it.

“I don’t know, Danny.” I said, looking over at him and shrugging. “I think it’s a good idea. Hell, a great idea. I think it’s as long overdue as Nick Ryan’s Penile Prosthesis. But brotha, what do you think?”

“John.” Danny began, as he then took a giant swig of his drink before continuing. “I think it is an excellent idea my brotha. That place has gone through the dark ages. You are exactly what the place needs to come out the other side.”

“Well ain’t that the fuckin’ truth. First, the entire company was plagued with a lying, cheating, shit for brains wind-bag.” I said, my face reddening with anger as I spoke. “His name’s Jon Brown, Brown baby, that’s his name baby, Jon Brown, Brown, Brown. You know, sometimes God really doesn’t have a sense of humor. How ironic and fitting is it that a man who is so full of shit that after he eats Taco Bell he has to put on a pair of earmuffs just to keep from leaking all over his shirt, is named Brown?”

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Danny spat out his four loco all over my floor, as he doubled over in laughter. “That’s freakin’ hilarious!”

I looked down at the puddle of cheap alcohol on my marble floor, shaking my head. Well, I guess that’s why I hired the best cleaning staff in Los Angeles.

“It’s true too. The XWF has survived all these years DESPITE the Jon Brown era, not because of it. Constantly pushing and cheating for no talent hacks like that illiterate, drooling window-licker Cooper, and that overrated twat-bag Kitten and worst of all, that hot mess Cyren. WAHHH, I had a bad childhood, now pay attention to ME! Who gives a fuck!? We know, we know…..Kitten and Cyren were both drug addicts and we were supposed to be in awe of their heroic story of getting themselves clean and achieving. Personally, if I thought it would’ve saved me and the fans of the XWF from having to hear those two whining shit-birds, I would’ve spent my life savings on enough junk for them to snort and plow into their veins that we’d never have to hear them speak again. Laying in a gutter in a pool of their own saliva and blood, their bodies surrounded by needles, bent spoons and empty baggies. That’s a magical daydream, isn’t it?”

“You know brotha….” Danny chuckled. “If anyone heard you say that shit, it would be a PR nightmare.”

“Oh really?” I chuckled. “Do you think I’d strike a vein….I mean nerve? Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. It’s going to be different now, far different. Done are the days where I walk around and give the fans something to cheer. Jumping around like a dancing bear balancing a ball on my nose just to entertain those fucktards. Danny, this isn’t our world anymore. We live in a world filled with whiny bitches, offended by every little fucking thing. If someone disagrees with them, well then, the they whine and cry like two-year-old babies until someone takes away what offends them. Oh, Roseanne makes a joke on twitter about a bitch who, let’s fucking face it, LOOKS LIKE AN APE and SHE LOSES HER FUCKING SHOW!? Yet, Chris Rock can say some shit about wanting to see more white mothers crying because their children were killed in mass shootings and that’s okay? Sounds fucking legit. While all these crybabies shout Racism and Sexism over every little fucking thing, they are the same people who criticize Christians and think nothing of it. These are the tide pod eating, knuckle dragging, window licking, dumbasses who ruin this country daily and who, let’s face it, fill the stands at every fucking XWF show. No, I don’t give a fuck what any of them think, if they even CAN THINK.”
“You kill me brotha!” Danny says, laughing as he pats me on the shoulder.

“Why, thank you brotha.” I said, patting his shoulder in return. “But, it’s all true. Truth these days is deadlier than any gun or sword. It can take down an entire group of waterheads at once. And, speaking of truth; here’s some more truth back onto the subject of the XWF. After Jon Brown’s reign of terror ended, the company went through owners faster than the Redskins go through Quarterbacks, each of them more boneheaded then the last. Honorable mention to Jason Ca$h, as that dude wasn’t talented enough to lace boots and job out to Chad; let alone run a fucking company. But, that’s another story for another day. Shane

, owner of the failed CCWF; decided to come in and attempt to Jon Brown the XWF better than Jon Brown did. He discounted all the XWF Legends, banned all of us from the boards and began running the fucking place deeper into the ground. If I could talk to

for just five fucking seconds, I would say….”Fuck you, you brainless, dickless motherfucker! You are irrelevant, YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IRRELEVANT! You’re so fucking irrelevant that by comparison you make Raziel appear as if he matters. Next time you try to make the XWF your own person power bottom and fuck it to smithereens, it will be ME that you will be standing eye to eye with and I fucking guarantee that it’ll be the last fucking thing you do.” It’s not that I give a fuck about any of the jobbers on this roster, you understand brotha. But I MADE THE XWF! That company got on the map and fucking stayed there BECAUSE OF ME! And, I’ll be damned if some wannabe wrestling promoter is going to come into the house that I built and level the damn place. Hence, why I am returning to a company that I haven’t set foot in for over a decade. You know brotha, that James Raven and I know each other very well. We’ve been allies, we’ve been enemies and everything in between. I respect James Raven, I always will. But and this is a big but. A but that rivals that of Cyren’s wife’s. But I do not believe that Raven has what it takes to successfully run the XWF. He’s a wrestler, it’s in his fucking blood. He is a wrestler through and through. He is NOT a promoter. And that being said, I’ll be damned if I sit back and watch yet another half-assed CEO tear down the house that I built.”

Danny lifts his Four Loco and nods his head towards me. “Cheers to that brotha.”

“The only downside of all this is that Raven is fully aware that when I am in this state, when my focus is at 110% the way it is now, that no one including him, can stop me. Knowing that, he will avoid me the best that he can. Bring in my opponent for Leap of Faith, Roxy Fucking Nova?” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“I don’t mean to sound sexist brotha.” Danny said. “In this day and age, that kinda thing will get you ostracized. But, isn’t it a bit…. unbalanced having a woman fight one of the best there ever was?”

“Well Danny, I don’t give a fuck if I sound sexist. I am a man and she is a woman. Meaning, her job as a woman is to back the fuck off and stay out of our way. If I need Bobdamned sandwich, then I will call her. Otherwise, someone should show her the way to the fucking way to the knitting circle. Women’s rights, women’s revolution, fucking hogwash. Women have the right to feed us, fuck us and shut the fuck up. The only revolution they need to move towards is washing our Bobdamned underpants without bitching a fit while they do it. And she thinks that getting into the ring with me is wise!? I will rip her dishpan hands off her body and use them both to jerk my cock into submission.”

“Hmmph.” I chuckled, shaking my head as I took another sip of my whiskey. “This match is a joke. It’s just a way for Raven to keep me busy. But, you have got to question the ethics of a man who would toss his own friend into the proverbial lion’s den. A frail, weak, powerless woman….thrown to a man who has ripped apart people three-times her size. This isn’t going to be a fight, my brotha. It isn’t going to get match of the week or be studied by up and coming young talent to see how to put on a proper match. No. This is going to be a slaughter, plain and simple. I have been in the ring every week with nobody’s that we hired since my last official match, just to keep ring-rust from forming. I am in peak physical condition and I am mean, I am big and as always, I am angry. That bitch had better backout of this match, or else the card following Leap of Faith will be a special card. “A memorial to the late Roxy Nova.” I don’t want that to happen, really, I don’t. Roxy is one hot piece of ass; it’d be a shame to see her breathe her last breath as she chokes on her own blood. But, James Raven made this happen. He is responsible for whatever happens. Not me.”

“HAHAHAHA.” Danny bellowed. “I’m not saying that your words aren’t 100% true, but I’m just sayin’….everything you said makes you sound like a pigheaded conservative.”

“Well, everything doesn’t have to be political Brotha.” I said. “That’s what the assclowns of today would like to think. But you know me, I am an equal opportunity hater. I hate everyone regardless of skin color, gender, religious beliefs or political alignment. That being said, I’d be remiss to leave out the true scum of this country. The other percentage of XWF fans and wrestling fans in general, are the brainless, uneducated, sister fucking republicunts. The ones waving their guns around for the world to see whilst trying to bullshit the rest of the country into believing that they follow “God’s law” and actually give a shit about human life. The same fuckers who blindly elected a man with the IQ of the used bloody tampon that his whore wife pulls out of her stretched wider than the Grand Canyon sized pussy every 28 days. That orange nightmare who wants to deport innocent people from this country, ripping innocent children out of the arms of their parents simply because they weren’t born in this shit stain of a country. Build a wall around this country to “secure the border” when his demented sex offending mind can’t even figure out how to secure his fingers from posting idiotic shit on twitter like a twelve year old girl that got dumped on prom night for her fatter friend that gives head. Yet, these fucking back-woods “you’ve got a purdy mouth” yokels claim to be people of Christ? Yeah, right. They follow Christ’ rule like I keep my dick in my pants, and let’s just say that I have had sex ten times today, 7 with a partner and once since we’ve been sitting here fuckin’ yacking. These vile excuses for human life are what is WORST about this country. Segregating people, saying who is worth something and who isn’t based upon their own twisted opinions. Oh, they’re gay, they don’t matter. They’re Mexican, so they don’t matter. Or oh, they’re poor so they don’t matter. Yeah, I don’t remember that part of the bible. So, while not meaning to make this political or about religion Danny, that group of people is my LEAST FAVORITE. And they can kiss my ass double-time. But in the end, all the conservative nutjobs, the liberal big mouths and everyone in between can suck my big fat dick. This world is fuckin’ polluted with scum and of course, so is the XWF fan base and roster. At Leap of Faith I plan to begin a quest to bring as much pain, as much suffering, as much sadness and butt-hurt as I can to all the low life shitheads as I can. It is by doing this that I can purge the XWF of the fuckery which has poisoned it for years. Roxy Nova is nothing but a means to an end, a sacrificial lamb to something far bigger than herself. No more sitting back and watching this bullshit, no more catering to a fan base full of dumbasses, no more mister nice guy.”

August 15th, 2015

Summer has always been my favorite time of year. As a child and a teenager, I experienced most of my fun times during the summer months. Even to this day, when I ride in a car during the summer, close my eyes, feel the warm breeze blowing through my hair and the rays of sun shining onto my face; I am transported back to a simpler time. A time where the stress, the responsibilities and the worries were not present and instead, the days were fun, carefree and beautiful. It only takes one moment though to change things. One summer to leave a scar on one’s psyche which never heals. One event to leave a mark on a person’s memories, taking them not to all the great summer memories anymore, but to the one horrifying, heart stopping memory. That summer was the summer of 2015. That day was August 15th. It was the one event that would not only change the way I viewed the world but change me as a person. The one event that left a everlasting scar upon me, one that would likely never completely heal.

I sat behind the wheel of the grand motorhome that I had purchased for touring, it was a lot like the one that Jack Burns owned on Meet the Fockers; that was actually where I got the idea to buy it in the first place. Though I wasn’t wrestling at the time, I was still touring around the country going from autograph signing to autograph signing, from appearance to appearance meeting and greeting the fans. On that particular night, I had slept for an hour as I attempted to drive through the night from Cleveland to Chicago. I had to make it to Chicago for a special appearance, as my fans meant so much to me at the time. As I sat behind the wheel of the RV, my hands shaking from all the coffee I had steadily drank in an attempt to stay awake; I glanced down at the security monitors. My beloved wife Laura, my brother Danny, my Brother-in-Law Vinnie, my brothers Dom and Al and my little two-month old daughter Clementine; all sleeping like babies. My birth family hadn’t given a shit about me except my father who had died some years back, so the people in that RV were my family. All the late nights, all the wrestling matches that left me a beaten and bloody mess, were all for them. I turned my attention back toward the road. The rain was pouring down and the wind was blowing like Raziel’s mom at an army recruitment day. As I sat, I began to feel suddenly sleepy….but really, it wasn’t that bad. I reached down and flipped the CD player on, “Home sweet home” by Motley Crue began playing….

“This is great.” I whispered to myself. “I am perfectly fine………”

Darkness washed over the dude.

I opened my eyes to a site that I still cannot forget. I see it whenever I close my eyes. The RV flying through the air like a jet and in the security monitor, I could see those who meant the most to me all screaming in terror.

“HOLD ON!” Is all I had time to shout before the RV slammed into the side of a Denny’s. After that, I passed out.

Two hours later….

I awoke in a hospital bed, a beautiful busty nurse standing over me writing something down on some papers attached to a clipboard.

“Is….is this heaven!?” I asked. “I…I didn’t think I’d end up here, to be honest. But, with tits like that this can’t be hell.”

She stopped writing and looked down at me. “No, Mr. Gambino. You are in the hospital. You and your friends, wife and child were involved in an automobile accident. Apparently, you fell asleep behind the wheel and crashed into a Denny’s.”

“FUCK!” I shouted as I I flew up in my bed, remembering what had happened. My heart pounding like a rabbit’s. “MY FAMILY, MY FAMILY!”

“Your family and your friends are all alright, Mr. Gambino.” She said. “The police on the scene said that they all went home and prayed after witnessing the whole thing because it was the first true miracle they had ever witnessed. There is no way any of you should’ve survived, let alone be in as good of condition as you all are.”

“Let’s get one thing straight….what was your name?” I asked.

“Nurse Cindy.” She replied, pointing to her badge.

“Let’s get one thing straight Cindy. Those people in there, they aren’t my friends and my family. THEY ARE MY FUCKIN’ FAMILY. And, it is my fuckin’ fault that this happened in the first place. Putting so much effort into keeping my damn fans happy almost killed the ones who TRULY give a fuck about me.”

“Mr. Gambino.” Cindy said, looking sincere. “You can’t blame yourself, you’ve got to think of this as a blessing. Now, would you like to go see your wife and daughter?”

“Yes….more than anything.” I said. “Just let me use the restroom first.”

I climbed up from my bed, pulling the IV stand behind myself. I was a little sore, but nothing too bad, Nothing even as bad as the way I felt after a match. I went into the bathroom, closed the door behind me and walked over to the sink. In the mirror, a bruised and lightly scratched face looked back at me. Not too shabby, really. I reached down and turned the faucet on and splashed my face with water. As I stood there looking at my reflecting, I began reflecting about all that had happened.

“These fucking fans, I almost killed the people that mean the most to me for THESE FUCKING FANS. And, what have these fans ever done for me!? WHAT!? WELL, THIS IS THE LAST FUCKING TIME. THE LAST BOBDAMN TIME!”

In a fit of fury, I slammed my fist through the wall beside me, breaking a hole into it.

“MR. GAMBINO!” Cindy yelled. “WHAT ARE YOU DOIN!?”

“FUCK OFF CINDY!” I shouted. “YOU’VE GOT MY CREDIT CARD, CHARGE ME FOR IT. IF I KNOW THE WAY SHIT WORKS THERE’LL BE MARBLE FLOORS IN HERE BY NEXT WEEK!”

No more. I would give no more of myself to the fans. From then on, it would all be about me.]]>
The wind howled like a lone wolf, crying out for the brethren he had lost. Palm trees blew against the windows of a tall brick mansion that would make the Corleone compound look like a shack. The house was dark, nothing stirring except for one window toward the back with still glowed with life. Inside the window, behind a desk, I sat. My feet propped upon the desktop, a glass of whiskey on the rocks in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. A lot had changed over the years, I had changed. No longer was I a man with a hard-outer shell that protected a big heart, no. Now all that laid beneath the hard-outer shell was a bottomless pit of darkness. No longer did I dress in what some would call “monkey suits”, no that Bigg Rigg went out of style with JNCO Jeans and Pogs. Instead, I wore what I wore every day; a pair of faded blue jeans, a black t-shirt and my beloved black leather biker jacket. No longer was my hair short and my face clean shaven like a corporate monkey. Instead, my hair hung to my shoulders, a glorious black flowing mane and my face was covered in a tight, well-groomed beard. The mob, that secret word that I was forbidden to mention for so long was beneath me now. All my enemies as well as all my associates who stood in the way of what I desired, all suddenly disappeared without a trace and without warning. I wasn’t a boss anymore; I was THE boss. The only associates who stood by me from my old life were Tony Fragale, Jullian Giovanni, my brothers Dom and Al, my brother-in-law Vinnie, my wife Laura and the man that I considered closer than a brother, my consigliere Danny Gonzalez. I know, that seems like a shit ton of people. But really, seeing as I had an army of over a hundred associates, it really was quite a small number.

Danny sat beside my desk, clad in his usual long jean shorts which hung just above the ankle; which for the life of my I could not comprehend why one would want to wear shorts which only exposed an inch of leg. With the shorts, he wore his brown tims and white wife beater tank top. He sipped on a “Four Loco” malt beverage, his favorite drink and, kind of his crutch. I set my glass of whiskey down onto my expensive solid gold desk, well onto a coaster that sat upon the desk. Shit, that desk is worth more than the lives of everyone on the XWF roster; I wouldn’t set the drink directly on it.

“I don’t know, Danny.” I said, looking over at him and shrugging. “I think it’s a good idea. Hell, a great idea. I think it’s as long overdue as Nick Ryan’s Penile Prosthesis. But brotha, what do you think?”

“John.” Danny began, as he then took a giant swig of his drink before continuing. “I think it is an excellent idea my brotha. That place has gone through the dark ages. You are exactly what the place needs to come out the other side.”

“Well ain’t that the fuckin’ truth. First, the entire company was plagued with a lying, cheating, shit for brains wind-bag.” I said, my face reddening with anger as I spoke. “His name’s Jon Brown, Brown baby, that’s his name baby, Jon Brown, Brown, Brown. You know, sometimes God really doesn’t have a sense of humor. How ironic and fitting is it that a man who is so full of shit that after he eats Taco Bell he has to put on a pair of earmuffs just to keep from leaking all over his shirt, is named Brown?”

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Danny spat out his four loco all over my floor, as he doubled over in laughter. “That’s freakin’ hilarious!”

I looked down at the puddle of cheap alcohol on my marble floor, shaking my head. Well, I guess that’s why I hired the best cleaning staff in Los Angeles.

“It’s true too. The XWF has survived all these years DESPITE the Jon Brown era, not because of it. Constantly pushing and cheating for no talent hacks like that illiterate, drooling window-licker Cooper, and that overrated twat-bag Kitten and worst of all, that hot mess Cyren. WAHHH, I had a bad childhood, now pay attention to ME! Who gives a fuck!? We know, we know…..Kitten and Cyren were both drug addicts and we were supposed to be in awe of their heroic story of getting themselves clean and achieving. Personally, if I thought it would’ve saved me and the fans of the XWF from having to hear those two whining shit-birds, I would’ve spent my life savings on enough junk for them to snort and plow into their veins that we’d never have to hear them speak again. Laying in a gutter in a pool of their own saliva and blood, their bodies surrounded by needles, bent spoons and empty baggies. That’s a magical daydream, isn’t it?”

“You know brotha….” Danny chuckled. “If anyone heard you say that shit, it would be a PR nightmare.”

“Oh really?” I chuckled. “Do you think I’d strike a vein….I mean nerve? Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. It’s going to be different now, far different. Done are the days where I walk around and give the fans something to cheer. Jumping around like a dancing bear balancing a ball on my nose just to entertain those fucktards. Danny, this isn’t our world anymore. We live in a world filled with whiny bitches, offended by every little fucking thing. If someone disagrees with them, well then, the they whine and cry like two-year-old babies until someone takes away what offends them. Oh, Roseanne makes a joke on twitter about a bitch who, let’s fucking face it, LOOKS LIKE AN APE and SHE LOSES HER FUCKING SHOW!? Yet, Chris Rock can say some shit about wanting to see more white mothers crying because their children were killed in mass shootings and that’s okay? Sounds fucking legit. While all these crybabies shout Racism and Sexism over every little fucking thing, they are the same people who criticize Christians and think nothing of it. These are the tide pod eating, knuckle dragging, window licking, dumbasses who ruin this country daily and who, let’s face it, fill the stands at every fucking XWF show. No, I don’t give a fuck what any of them think, if they even CAN THINK.”
“You kill me brotha!” Danny says, laughing as he pats me on the shoulder.

“Why, thank you brotha.” I said, patting his shoulder in return. “But, it’s all true. Truth these days is deadlier than any gun or sword. It can take down an entire group of waterheads at once. And, speaking of truth; here’s some more truth back onto the subject of the XWF. After Jon Brown’s reign of terror ended, the company went through owners faster than the Redskins go through Quarterbacks, each of them more boneheaded then the last. Honorable mention to Jason Ca$h, as that dude wasn’t talented enough to lace boots and job out to Chad; let alone run a fucking company. But, that’s another story for another day. Shane

for just five fucking seconds, I would say….”Fuck you, you brainless, dickless motherfucker! You are irrelevant, YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IRRELEVANT! You’re so fucking irrelevant that by comparison you make Raziel appear as if he matters. Next time you try to make the XWF your own person power bottom and fuck it to smithereens, it will be ME that you will be standing eye to eye with and I fucking guarantee that it’ll be the last fucking thing you do.” It’s not that I give a fuck about any of the jobbers on this roster, you understand brotha. But I MADE THE XWF! That company got on the map and fucking stayed there BECAUSE OF ME! And, I’ll be damned if some wannabe wrestling promoter is going to come into the house that I built and level the damn place. Hence, why I am returning to a company that I haven’t set foot in for over a decade. You know brotha, that James Raven and I know each other very well. We’ve been allies, we’ve been enemies and everything in between. I respect James Raven, I always will. But and this is a big but. A but that rivals that of Cyren’s wife’s. But I do not believe that Raven has what it takes to successfully run the XWF. He’s a wrestler, it’s in his fucking blood. He is a wrestler through and through. He is NOT a promoter. And that being said, I’ll be damned if I sit back and watch yet another half-assed CEO tear down the house that I built.”

Danny lifts his Four Loco and nods his head towards me. “Cheers to that brotha.”

“The only downside of all this is that Raven is fully aware that when I am in this state, when my focus is at 110% the way it is now, that no one including him, can stop me. Knowing that, he will avoid me the best that he can. Bring in my opponent for Leap of Faith, Roxy Fucking Nova?” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“I don’t mean to sound sexist brotha.” Danny said. “In this day and age, that kinda thing will get you ostracized. But, isn’t it a bit…. unbalanced having a woman fight one of the best there ever was?”

“Well Danny, I don’t give a fuck if I sound sexist. I am a man and she is a woman. Meaning, her job as a woman is to back the fuck off and stay out of our way. If I need Bobdamned sandwich, then I will call her. Otherwise, someone should show her the way to the fucking way to the knitting circle. Women’s rights, women’s revolution, fucking hogwash. Women have the right to feed us, fuck us and shut the fuck up. The only revolution they need to move towards is washing our Bobdamned underpants without bitching a fit while they do it. And she thinks that getting into the ring with me is wise!? I will rip her dishpan hands off her body and use them both to jerk my cock into submission.”

“Hmmph.” I chuckled, shaking my head as I took another sip of my whiskey. “This match is a joke. It’s just a way for Raven to keep me busy. But, you have got to question the ethics of a man who would toss his own friend into the proverbial lion’s den. A frail, weak, powerless woman….thrown to a man who has ripped apart people three-times her size. This isn’t going to be a fight, my brotha. It isn’t going to get match of the week or be studied by up and coming young talent to see how to put on a proper match. No. This is going to be a slaughter, plain and simple. I have been in the ring every week with nobody’s that we hired since my last official match, just to keep ring-rust from forming. I am in peak physical condition and I am mean, I am big and as always, I am angry. That bitch had better backout of this match, or else the card following Leap of Faith will be a special card. “A memorial to the late Roxy Nova.” I don’t want that to happen, really, I don’t. Roxy is one hot piece of ass; it’d be a shame to see her breathe her last breath as she chokes on her own blood. But, James Raven made this happen. He is responsible for whatever happens. Not me.”

“HAHAHAHA.” Danny bellowed. “I’m not saying that your words aren’t 100% true, but I’m just sayin’….everything you said makes you sound like a pigheaded conservative.”

“Well, everything doesn’t have to be political Brotha.” I said. “That’s what the assclowns of today would like to think. But you know me, I am an equal opportunity hater. I hate everyone regardless of skin color, gender, religious beliefs or political alignment. That being said, I’d be remiss to leave out the true scum of this country. The other percentage of XWF fans and wrestling fans in general, are the brainless, uneducated, sister fucking republicunts. The ones waving their guns around for the world to see whilst trying to bullshit the rest of the country into believing that they follow “God’s law” and actually give a shit about human life. The same fuckers who blindly elected a man with the IQ of the used bloody tampon that his whore wife pulls out of her stretched wider than the Grand Canyon sized pussy every 28 days. That orange nightmare who wants to deport innocent people from this country, ripping innocent children out of the arms of their parents simply because they weren’t born in this shit stain of a country. Build a wall around this country to “secure the border” when his demented sex offending mind can’t even figure out how to secure his fingers from posting idiotic shit on twitter like a twelve year old girl that got dumped on prom night for her fatter friend that gives head. Yet, these fucking back-woods “you’ve got a purdy mouth” yokels claim to be people of Christ? Yeah, right. They follow Christ’ rule like I keep my dick in my pants, and let’s just say that I have had sex ten times today, 7 with a partner and once since we’ve been sitting here fuckin’ yacking. These vile excuses for human life are what is WORST about this country. Segregating people, saying who is worth something and who isn’t based upon their own twisted opinions. Oh, they’re gay, they don’t matter. They’re Mexican, so they don’t matter. Or oh, they’re poor so they don’t matter. Yeah, I don’t remember that part of the bible. So, while not meaning to make this political or about religion Danny, that group of people is my LEAST FAVORITE. And they can kiss my ass double-time. But in the end, all the conservative nutjobs, the liberal big mouths and everyone in between can suck my big fat dick. This world is fuckin’ polluted with scum and of course, so is the XWF fan base and roster. At Leap of Faith I plan to begin a quest to bring as much pain, as much suffering, as much sadness and butt-hurt as I can to all the low life shitheads as I can. It is by doing this that I can purge the XWF of the fuckery which has poisoned it for years. Roxy Nova is nothing but a means to an end, a sacrificial lamb to something far bigger than herself. No more sitting back and watching this bullshit, no more catering to a fan base full of dumbasses, no more mister nice guy.”

August 15th, 2015

Summer has always been my favorite time of year. As a child and a teenager, I experienced most of my fun times during the summer months. Even to this day, when I ride in a car during the summer, close my eyes, feel the warm breeze blowing through my hair and the rays of sun shining onto my face; I am transported back to a simpler time. A time where the stress, the responsibilities and the worries were not present and instead, the days were fun, carefree and beautiful. It only takes one moment though to change things. One summer to leave a scar on one’s psyche which never heals. One event to leave a mark on a person’s memories, taking them not to all the great summer memories anymore, but to the one horrifying, heart stopping memory. That summer was the summer of 2015. That day was August 15th. It was the one event that would not only change the way I viewed the world but change me as a person. The one event that left a everlasting scar upon me, one that would likely never completely heal.

I sat behind the wheel of the grand motorhome that I had purchased for touring, it was a lot like the one that Jack Burns owned on Meet the Fockers; that was actually where I got the idea to buy it in the first place. Though I wasn’t wrestling at the time, I was still touring around the country going from autograph signing to autograph signing, from appearance to appearance meeting and greeting the fans. On that particular night, I had slept for an hour as I attempted to drive through the night from Cleveland to Chicago. I had to make it to Chicago for a special appearance, as my fans meant so much to me at the time. As I sat behind the wheel of the RV, my hands shaking from all the coffee I had steadily drank in an attempt to stay awake; I glanced down at the security monitors. My beloved wife Laura, my brother Danny, my Brother-in-Law Vinnie, my brothers Dom and Al and my little two-month old daughter Clementine; all sleeping like babies. My birth family hadn’t given a shit about me except my father who had died some years back, so the people in that RV were my family. All the late nights, all the wrestling matches that left me a beaten and bloody mess, were all for them. I turned my attention back toward the road. The rain was pouring down and the wind was blowing like Raziel’s mom at an army recruitment day. As I sat, I began to feel suddenly sleepy….but really, it wasn’t that bad. I reached down and flipped the CD player on, “Home sweet home” by Motley Crue began playing….

“This is great.” I whispered to myself. “I am perfectly fine………”

Darkness washed over the dude.

I opened my eyes to a site that I still cannot forget. I see it whenever I close my eyes. The RV flying through the air like a jet and in the security monitor, I could see those who meant the most to me all screaming in terror.

“HOLD ON!” Is all I had time to shout before the RV slammed into the side of a Denny’s. After that, I passed out.

Two hours later….

I awoke in a hospital bed, a beautiful busty nurse standing over me writing something down on some papers attached to a clipboard.

“Is….is this heaven!?” I asked. “I…I didn’t think I’d end up here, to be honest. But, with tits like that this can’t be hell.”

She stopped writing and looked down at me. “No, Mr. Gambino. You are in the hospital. You and your friends, wife and child were involved in an automobile accident. Apparently, you fell asleep behind the wheel and crashed into a Denny’s.”

“FUCK!” I shouted as I I flew up in my bed, remembering what had happened. My heart pounding like a rabbit’s. “MY FAMILY, MY FAMILY!”

“Your family and your friends are all alright, Mr. Gambino.” She said. “The police on the scene said that they all went home and prayed after witnessing the whole thing because it was the first true miracle they had ever witnessed. There is no way any of you should’ve survived, let alone be in as good of condition as you all are.”

“Let’s get one thing straight….what was your name?” I asked.

“Nurse Cindy.” She replied, pointing to her badge.

“Let’s get one thing straight Cindy. Those people in there, they aren’t my friends and my family. THEY ARE MY FUCKIN’ FAMILY. And, it is my fuckin’ fault that this happened in the first place. Putting so much effort into keeping my damn fans happy almost killed the ones who TRULY give a fuck about me.”

“Mr. Gambino.” Cindy said, looking sincere. “You can’t blame yourself, you’ve got to think of this as a blessing. Now, would you like to go see your wife and daughter?”

“Yes….more than anything.” I said. “Just let me use the restroom first.”

I climbed up from my bed, pulling the IV stand behind myself. I was a little sore, but nothing too bad, Nothing even as bad as the way I felt after a match. I went into the bathroom, closed the door behind me and walked over to the sink. In the mirror, a bruised and lightly scratched face looked back at me. Not too shabby, really. I reached down and turned the faucet on and splashed my face with water. As I stood there looking at my reflecting, I began reflecting about all that had happened.

“These fucking fans, I almost killed the people that mean the most to me for THESE FUCKING FANS. And, what have these fans ever done for me!? WHAT!? WELL, THIS IS THE LAST FUCKING TIME. THE LAST BOBDAMN TIME!”

In a fit of fury, I slammed my fist through the wall beside me, breaking a hole into it.

“MR. GAMBINO!” Cindy yelled. “WHAT ARE YOU DOIN!?”

“FUCK OFF CINDY!” I shouted. “YOU’VE GOT MY CREDIT CARD, CHARGE ME FOR IT. IF I KNOW THE WAY SHIT WORKS THERE’LL BE MARBLE FLOORS IN HERE BY NEXT WEEK!”

No more. I would give no more of myself to the fans. From then on, it would all be about me.]]> <![CDATA[Inside Jokes]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34235 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 19:01:30 -0700 James Raven]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34235 The air is thick with smog as the cinderblock wall crumbles, raining debris down upon the concrete floors and sending plumes of dust cascading down the narrow corridor. Two men stand hidden in the shadows, large automatic machine guns balanced carefully on their shoulders. They look powerful. They look heroic. To put it in layman's terms they look badass as shit.

One of the two men steps through the smoke and climbs atop the rubble, his chiseled features and panty wetting grin becoming clear for the first time.

JAMES RAVEN: What were you saying about the wall being impenetrable, Drew?

The second man follows him through the gaping hole in the wall and climbs to the top of the rubble, hair messy but still sexy to Angie Vaughn in ways that she’ll never admit. He shrugs his shoulders.

DREW ARCHYLE: I stand corrected. What did you use to do that though? That blast was horrifically dangerous.

JAMES RAVEN: Peter Gilmours most recent promo, the biggest bomb known to man.

Drew offers a half hearted smile to his comrade.

DREW ARCHYLE: No, but really. What did you use to blow up the wall?

JAMES RAVEN: Oh, dynamite. I used dynamite.

DREW ARCHYLE: Cool cool cool.

The two men climb down from the heap of debris and into the narrow corridor, looking up and down the hall before Raven rolls up his sleeve and looks at a set of directions written on his forearm in sharpie. Drew looks enraged, drilling James in the shoulder with a heavy right hand that nearly makes Raven drop his machine gun.

DREW ARCHYLE: I thought you said you knew where you were going!

JAMES RAVEN: I do! Mostly.

DREW ARCHYLE: Mostly?! There was no mostly when you roped me into this! You were very clear, emphatic even, that you knew where you were going and this was going to be a relatively simple job.

Raven shakes his head dismissively, face screwed up comically.

JAMES RAVEN: It’s funny because that’s not how I remember the conversation AT ALL!

Raven double checks the drawing on his arm and then looks down the south wing of the hall and nods his head in confirmation.

JAMES RAVEN: Yup. This way.

He strolls off confidently leaving Drew no choice but to follow him. Drew questions Raven several more times about their direction, but James begins to whistle “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry and eventually (with the help of their loud and echoing footsteps) manages to drown out any protests. Drew gives up and blindly follows Raven, which to be fair is what he’s much better suited doing anyways, while admiring the cool machine gun he gets to hold. He’s not usually big on guns, but James decorated his with a bunch of cool cat stickers and micro text on the chrome plating that tells you how to make a really wicked zucchini pasta, so he was enjoying it.

JAMES RAVEN: Hang on, we’re here…

Drew looks up and realizes they’re about fifteen yards away from a small archway. From their vantage point he can see what looks like a large warehouse, metal shelving units as far as the eye can see with unmarked wooden crates piled atop them. Raven makes his way to the arch and motions for Drew to follow.

DREW ARCHYLE: Whoa, it’s like the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark…

JAMES RAVEN: I think that’s where Shane got the idea.

DREW ARCHYLE: Wait,

built this place?

JAMES RAVEN: No, he was just an interior decorator.

Drew nods. That makes sense. Shane

always had an eye for decor, and his choice in paint schemes was always top notch. The duo make their way into the warehouse together and Drew immediately separates from James and makes his way to a stack of wooden crates.

DREW ARCHYLE: So what exactly is this place? What’s in these crates?

JAMES RAVEN: I don’t think it has a name, but it’s where XWF management has always stored items of great power and great danger that they don’t want to see fall into the wrong hands.

DREW ARCHYLE: There’s a label on this one; “Cyrens whiskey”. What’s that mean?

JAMES RAVEN: It means lots of racism and threats of violence along with occasional threats on children, including the unborn.

DREW ARCHYLE: Zombie babies?!

JAMES RAVEN: That’s undead. I said unborn.

Drew nods his head in understanding even though he doesn’t totally understand, and tries to hide a violent shudder that runs up his spine.

DREW ARCHYLE: … zombie babies…

Drew makes his way down the shelving unit studying the exteriors of several crates.

DREW ARCHYLE: A lot of these have labels. “Caedus Files”. What’s that?

JAMES RAVEN: Documents proving that The Engineer, Dolly Waters, Michael Graves and Jim from The Office are all the same person.

DREW ARCHYLE: Jim was right?!

JAMES RAVEN: That’s what those files say.

Drew looks at James in disbelief, then continues to read the labels of several crates aloud.

DREW ARCHYLE: “Essence of Lacklan”? “Bruce Blingsteens Penis”? “Rain”? What are all of these?

JAMES RAVEN: Essence of Lacklan is a synthetic ego so powerful it has its own gravitational pull.

DREW ARCHYLE: Synthetic… ego?

JAMES RAVEN: Bruce Blingsteens penis seems pretty self explanatory, honestly, but if you need me to spell it out… Bruce became Brucette… and

kept it.

Drew dry heaves several times, but Raven continues.

JAMES RAVEN: And Rain… well… he’s banned, OK…

The crate labeled “Rain” suddenly shakes on its shelf and a muffled voice can be heard from within its confines.

“RAIN”: Let me out! Just for a day! I want to ask everyone their opinions on a celebrity best friend tag team tournament!

Drew points at the crate.

DREW ARCHYLE: This one I agree with. This one should be locked up. James, how long have you known about this place?

JAMES RAVEN: Since I bought into the XWF ownership earlier this year. Vinnie Lane gave me a rundown on what was in here, and Theo Pryce had a key delivered to me via Taiwanese hooker.

DREW ARCHYLE: Wait, what?

JAMES RAVEN: I know, I thought it was strange since I know he was in Baltimore at the time but he’s an eccentric guy.

DREW ARCHYLE: No, not that.

JAMES RAVEN: Oh, I said hooker. My bad, he sent a key via Taiwanese prostitute.

DREW ARCHYLE: Not that either! If you had a key why did we blast through the wall?!

Raven eyes Drew incredulously and adjusts his grip on the machine gun.

JAMES RAVEN: Uh, because it was awesome?!

DREW ARCHYLE: This isn’t right James, you should have told Robert and I about this place and all of the stuff that’s in here… I mean this crate says it has “Doc D’villes Schedule”. I want to see that! I want to know how he manages to see so many people but still have his door perpetually open!

JAMES RAVEN: I’m sorry! You’re right, but part of the ownership agreement was keeping this to myself. The only reason we’re here now is to get the ultimate weapon before Chris Page and his minions can get their hands on it. If they get to it first, we can kiss the entire XWF goodbye…

DREW ARCHYLE: What’s the ultimate weapon?

Before Raven can answer gunfire is head from across the facility, ripping apart several of the nearby crates. James and Drew whip their heads around (and hair back and forth) in time to spot two figures sprinting between shelving units and slowly easing towards them.

DREW ARCHYLE: Is that MDK and Bill Blakk?!

JAMES RAVEN: Damn it! Page and his henchmen are here! Move! Move!! MOVE!!!

Raven and Drew charge full blast towards a nearby stack of crates and dive behind them. Raven checks his gun, making sure it’s locked loaded and ready for action. He glances over at Drew and realizes his gun and ammunition strap are completely empty.

JAMES RAVEN: Where the hell are your bullets?

DREW ARCHYLE: I dropped them like a breadcrumb trail. I wasn’t very confident in you navigating us back with that sharpie map on your arm.

Before James can explode at his ally, the crates they’re cowering behind explode in a hail of wooden shrapnel. Raven grabs Archyle by the arm and drags him to another stack of crates a few yards away. Drew catches a glimpse of MDK and Bill Blakk in the distance, and stops for a moment before Raven yanks him to safety.

DREW ARCHYLE: Are they… little people?

JAMES RAVEN: No, of course not. They’re midgets.

MDK and Bill Blakk give up on hiding behind the shelving units and sprint towards the Apex Prophecy members as fast as their tiny little legs will carry them. Now that they’re exposed in the open it’s completely clear that MDK and Bill Blakk are no more than three feet tall, and the majority of that is forehead.

JAMES RAVEN: Ugh, fuck this…

Raven spins out from behind the crates and fires wildly, unleashing a furious assault on the two members of Chris Page’s brotherhood. MDK and Blakk don’t have a prayer as the bullets shred through their flesh and spinter their miniature bones. Raven stands over their bodies as they collapse lifelessly to the floor, screaming in rage like it’s a fucking Rambo movie and pumping round after round into the shetland corpses. Bill Blakk eats nearly two dozen shots to the ribcage, piercing the heart and deflating it like Tristan Slaters television title chances. He turns his focus to MDK and kicks the body to it’s back, pulling the trigger and firing what ammunition he has left into the skull of Danny Tenegra.

DREW ARCHYLE: That all felt very gratuitous.

MDK draws a sudden breath and struggles to sit up.

JAMES RAVEN: This is bad.

DREW ARCHYLE: What the hell?!

JAMES RAVEN: They must have found the crate that had the WGWF rule set in it! All of Page’s guys are unstoppable now! We don’t have a PRAYER of going over! Run!

Raven and Drew take off towards the back of the warehouse and sprint past row after row of shelving units and crates, the rear wall of the building never seeming to get any closer. They run for what feels like an hour. They run without checking behind them to see if MDK and Blakk are giving chase. They run until their heart jackhammers in their chests and their blood pumps like battery acid in their veins. Suddenly Raven stops, noticing something in one of the rows of shelving and backing up for a better look.

JAMES RAVEN: There it is.

Drew looks down the row and sees a crate that’s been knocked from the shelves and broken open, a small object sitting unattended on the floor and giving off a gentle yellow glow.

DREW ARCHYLE: Oh my God… is that?

JAMES RAVEN: Yeah, it is. The ultimate weapon.

DREW ARCHYLE: Shane

’s Golden Potato… I never knew what it did, I just tried to save up 9,999,999 xbux to buy it…

JAMES RAVEN: We all did, buddy.

DREW ARCHYLE: I just couldn’t save that much…

JAMES RAVEN: None of us could, buddy. It’s OK.

DREW ARCHYLE: So that’s the ultimate weapon? What does it do?

Raven can’t get a word in before suddenly Chris Page steps out from behind a shelf, standing behind the golden potato and grinning from ear to ear at the tag team champions.

CHRIS PAGE: It destroys the XWF! That’s what it does! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA- *hackcouchhack*

JAMES RAVEN: Ha! Your biggest weakness! A stoners lungs!

Suddenly the golden potato begins to twitch on the floor, rolling from side to side as Chris Page begins to laugh gleefully once more.

CHRIS PAGE: HA! It’s happening! IT’S HAPPENING! SOON THE XWF WILL BE NOTHING! DESTROYED!

The golden potato stops twitching and begins to vibrate, the intensity picking up until a large crack forms on the side and splits down the side of the potato.

DREW ARCHYLE: Is that potato hatching?! That’s not supposed to happen in any recipe!

A tiny fist punches through the golden exterior of the potato, furry knuckles peeling away the surface to reveal a tiny hobbit like creature inside. Covered in coarse black hairs like the ones found around the asshole of Vinnie Lane and with lips puckered like Thaddeus Dukes when he’s around the nutsack of someone he thinks might want to team up, the monster crawls unsteadily from inside the potato covered in a thick brown sludge. It turns to look at Raven and Drew.

CREATURE: SCCCCCAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!

DREW ARCHYLE: It’s a baby scatbear! The golden potato was a scatbear egg! It WILL kill the XWF, Page was right!

CREATURE: SCAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTT!!!

Chris Page laughs maniacally, but suddenly Raven steps forward and fires his machine gun at point blank range and riddles the baby scatbear with bullets. The firing blast goes on for a solid twelve to fifteen seconds, Drew Archyle and Chris Page standing idly by and watching the one sided massacre. Ravens gun clicks, empty, and he proceeds to turn it around and grp the muzzle while using the stock to beat the lifeless scatbear. He tosses the gun aside and stomps the scatbear baby until there’s nothing more than a soft squelch each time he plants his foot.

CHRIS PAGE: Well… god damn it… plan b, I guess.

Drew and Raven look at each other, unsure what to make of Page’s cryptic statement until they suddenly hear what sounds like a tidal wave rushing towards them through the warehouse.

DREW ARCHYLE: What’s that sound?

JAMES RAVEN: He’s flooding us, like he did to Main… it’s… it’s over Drew…

DREW ARCHYLE: Tell Robert I loved him.

JAMES RAVEN: Huh?

Everything gets hazy, everything begins to fade out, everything…

Closeup on Drew Archyles face, eyes closed and lids fluttering gently like a sweet baby angel as he sleeps. The camera pulls out slowly, revealing the tag champion in a hospital bed and hooked up to several monitors, still recovering from the concussion he suffered several weeks ago. James Raven sits at his bedside, reading aloud from the children's classic “The Giving Tree” as Universal champion Robert Main sits on the opposite side of the bed with a cool wash cloth and applies it gently to his friends face.

The door to the hospital room opens slowly and Centurion makes his way into the room, looking at his fellow Apex Prophecy members with concern.

CENTURION: How’s he doing?

JAMES RAVEN: Sleeping, but OK. I think he’s dreaming.

CENTURION: What about, do you think?

ROBERT MAIN: Cats, I hope. Lots and lots of cats.

JAMES RAVEN: Page the nurse, get some food for when he wakes up.

Centurion nods and makes his way to a small intercom and hits the button.

CENTURION: Nurse Ratched? Can you come in here please?

A voice crackles back through the speaker.

NED KAYE: I really wish you guys would stop calling me that.

Fade
To
Black]]> The air is thick with smog as the cinderblock wall crumbles, raining debris down upon the concrete floors and sending plumes of dust cascading down the narrow corridor. Two men stand hidden in the shadows, large automatic machine guns balanced carefully on their shoulders. They look powerful. They look heroic. To put it in layman's terms they look badass as shit.

One of the two men steps through the smoke and climbs atop the rubble, his chiseled features and panty wetting grin becoming clear for the first time.

JAMES RAVEN: What were you saying about the wall being impenetrable, Drew?

The second man follows him through the gaping hole in the wall and climbs to the top of the rubble, hair messy but still sexy to Angie Vaughn in ways that she’ll never admit. He shrugs his shoulders.

DREW ARCHYLE: I stand corrected. What did you use to do that though? That blast was horrifically dangerous.

JAMES RAVEN: Peter Gilmours most recent promo, the biggest bomb known to man.

Drew offers a half hearted smile to his comrade.

DREW ARCHYLE: No, but really. What did you use to blow up the wall?

JAMES RAVEN: Oh, dynamite. I used dynamite.

DREW ARCHYLE: Cool cool cool.

The two men climb down from the heap of debris and into the narrow corridor, looking up and down the hall before Raven rolls up his sleeve and looks at a set of directions written on his forearm in sharpie. Drew looks enraged, drilling James in the shoulder with a heavy right hand that nearly makes Raven drop his machine gun.

DREW ARCHYLE: I thought you said you knew where you were going!

JAMES RAVEN: I do! Mostly.

DREW ARCHYLE: Mostly?! There was no mostly when you roped me into this! You were very clear, emphatic even, that you knew where you were going and this was going to be a relatively simple job.

Raven shakes his head dismissively, face screwed up comically.

JAMES RAVEN: It’s funny because that’s not how I remember the conversation AT ALL!

Raven double checks the drawing on his arm and then looks down the south wing of the hall and nods his head in confirmation.

JAMES RAVEN: Yup. This way.

He strolls off confidently leaving Drew no choice but to follow him. Drew questions Raven several more times about their direction, but James begins to whistle “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry and eventually (with the help of their loud and echoing footsteps) manages to drown out any protests. Drew gives up and blindly follows Raven, which to be fair is what he’s much better suited doing anyways, while admiring the cool machine gun he gets to hold. He’s not usually big on guns, but James decorated his with a bunch of cool cat stickers and micro text on the chrome plating that tells you how to make a really wicked zucchini pasta, so he was enjoying it.

JAMES RAVEN: Hang on, we’re here…

Drew looks up and realizes they’re about fifteen yards away from a small archway. From their vantage point he can see what looks like a large warehouse, metal shelving units as far as the eye can see with unmarked wooden crates piled atop them. Raven makes his way to the arch and motions for Drew to follow.

DREW ARCHYLE: Whoa, it’s like the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark…

JAMES RAVEN: I think that’s where Shane got the idea.

DREW ARCHYLE: Wait,

built this place?

JAMES RAVEN: No, he was just an interior decorator.

Drew nods. That makes sense. Shane

_-_-_-_Undisclosed Location London England-_-_-_-

Robert stood in-between rows of tombstones erect in a peaceful hush, like a sea of the dead. Some of the headstones were collapsing with the weathering of centuries, some were polished marble with new ebony writing with fresh floral tributes. Most though were overgrown and unkempt, now even their grievers had joined them under the cool soil. Robert leered off in the distance as a new grave was in the process of been dug, awaiting its new tenant. He wondered to himself how could a place be so full and empty at the same time? All around him were the tombstones with their faded etching, a roll-call for the people who cannot answer. Whatever Robert had come here for is not here. This graveyard is full; full of stone, moss, and the decaying remnants of bone and flesh. Robert laid the Universal Championship over a gravestone kneeling.

Let's talk about a lower life form, a nut-less, unskillful man lacking finesse, a coward who realizes he's now so far out of his league all he can do is lie through his God damn teeth that I’ll be knocking out. This spray and pray pussy strategy, fashioned by fake news to mudslinging. This has become more of a pissing contest than anything else. A measure of who’s dick is bigger. Let's discuss the reality of this situation after I stomp your ass Page you will become part of that revolving door of douchebags that come and go regularly. Chris, you are a guy with some mental slowdown most likely born from heavy drug use. Page, your suburban bitch ass knows the word of the day and its defeat. All the smartass glances and lopsided smiles into a camera lens alluding to anything otherwise is a lie and you among all people know it. The time for using this company as tools to be used to further your own laughably deflated career is about to come to a halt. “Chronic”, not only am I going to fuck you up in that ring for everything that you have done to my brothers. I'm going to knock your fucking teeth out for you despicably deplorable untruthful despising of me.

Robert turned his head away from the camera placing his palm on the gravestone next to him. There was a savage irony within the gravestone. It stood there with its youthful incandescence, brawny, tough, and ready to last another century. Once in the ground sealed away it’s something permanent to mark something so transient. As the flesh returns to the soil, the memories evaporate, life extinguished forever. Mourners flock to this cold stone as if they can halt all that, make everlasting something it never can be. It's something to visit when they cannot bear the separation any longer. It is something tangible and dependable when all else is in turmoil, the love departs yet stone stays. Robert’s unsure why he has traveled halfway around the Earth to come here and feel the foundations of these stones crumble with his own bare hands. He knows it's absurd, but somehow this slice of rock steadies him.

Chris, I see you for what you truly a creepy grey-haired pea-brained transitional twat. A literal

dropping your britches like a 12-year-old with down syndrome every time you take a piss. You're an embarrassment to the XWF. Taking your leave whenever you feel the inclination like you're a pissed off child on the playground skipping away with his ball, or the feckless diva walking out at the drop of a bruised ego. But to be honest you are not either of those mentioned previously, numb-nuts, you're the one and only “Stoned” One, “Chronic” Chris Page, a no one who only succeeds in pissing off the few fans you have left, the brass and the roster and taking a monumental dump on convenience. You can't be counted on, you can't be trusted, go fuck yourself. You aren’t unbreakable, bitch, you aren’t intimidating and nothing you've ever done or said has meant shit to anyone. Do us all a favor after I rip your head off and shit down your neck. Leave. Don't come back, the XWF doesn’t need a transman who treats this all like a fair-weather concept, the XWF needs men and women who can hack it without hacking it up. Chris, you aren’t shit but bad ideas and lack of commitment. The old dogs ran you off once Chris, this time a young gun, a maverick get to do the honors. Sending you off into obscurity, where you belong.

Robert leisurely removes his hand from the gravestone continuing on

CCP. It’s honestly refreshing to see a man stick to his words, yet since crawling back in the front door you’ve been the same old sack of bullshit mixed with a dash of spinelessness. You unbelievably childish pussy, tell me how a man that’s nearly 50 cannot even admit to his fuck up’s what a dishonest cowardly ass hole you are. That's all you seem to do, Chris, you refuse to listen to anything anyone else has to say you must be the smartest guy in the room. Until you’re not. If you paid attention for a split second and did one ounce of research putting forth a minimal amount of effort into your popping off at the mouth with words you're going to inevitably suck back down those pipes. You're pathetic. You make me fucking sick. You have fucked up. Period; because that's what you are, a fuck up. A fuck-up who fluked his way into this match. People fear you here. Chris know this right now I’ not one of them. In fact, you aren’t on my list of opponents that make me nervous, you're on the long list of arrogant dickhead hacks who irritate me and can very much look forward to getting their puckered asses handed back after I've kicked them around like the fucking soccer ball. You aren’t no Champion, no king among men, you're a fraud. A phony. You’re not shit, and neither are your promos or in-ring ability.

Fuck what you've done, you know God damn well I'm a cut above you, we both know you fear The Omega and for good reason, I'm not goanna rest until I've beaten the last drop of will you have to be here in the XWF out of your hide. You are entitled to it like you deserve a point-blank shotgun blast in the freaking mouth. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger Page, and I cannot wait until I pull the trigger blasting what little fucking brains you have all over BUCKINGHAM PALACE. And by the way, if you're goanna tell me to try harder after I’ve legit shut you and all your partners down with a single fucking swoop. You might want to start living what you preach as opposed to what you’ve been doing, you hypocritical loser ass bum mother fucker.

Robert leapt to his feet motioning time out

But wait, Robert, you didn’t beat Chris Page by yourself you had help. Give me a fucking break. Is there a mark next to our victory Page? No, a win is a win no matter how they come. Freaking dick head.

A crow lands on the Universal Championship that’s draped over a tombstone to Robert’s left. It’s feathers black as tar wings of blackest feathers beat against the air as the crow cries out, a sound that sends shivers down Robert’s spine. He moves slowly noticing the crow is a scruffy imitation of what once was. Age has worn its feathers into tatters, an odd omission, there is a striking similarity between this bird of death and Chris Page. There was nothing but silence surrounding the two. Robert nods understanding the symbolism. Here he was in a cemetery filled to the brim with the dead, now a crow lands on the Universal Championship. Could this be it for Robert’s run as Champion? The traditional meaning with a Crow is associated with a bad omen or worse death. Once believed that when someone dies the Crow would carry their soul to the land of the dead. Robert squints his eyes unsure.

You stiff shrimp dicked ass hat. Hey Page, you should do me a huge favor and remain true to your inner butt pirate. You strike me as someone who hasn't gotten and poontang in a while theoretically, Tristan’s tranny back pussy doesn't count either fucker. I bet you drop your pants in public to take a piss, don’t you? The only males who should drop their pants and underwear to their ankles in public are

at the urinal. Point blank. Fuck Consistency can't see the link between your severe psychological weed addiction and the lack of ambition in quality both in and out of the ring. That and the fact you think this obvious fear tactic of firing at me with low caliber weaponry and ammo is goanna intimidate me. You pathetic fuckup. What you got planned next dipshit, four more well thought out promos that don't gel? Providing zero accuracy or truth, involving the always popular combination of Dick and you’ll be Universal Champion? On the flip side, it's sad to see wide-eyed pussy thinking' he's doing a good job of hyping the match with these cringe-worthy, sloppily filmed and scripted awkward scenes between him and his band of morons. Page, I own you literally, when the two of us square off one on one at Leap Of Faith.

Robert shoos the Crow away snatching the Universal Championship up shoving it into the camera.

Know this you punk ass bitch I owe you a beat down of a lifetime for your incomprehensible and unwarranted, unprovoked disrespect toward me and my Championship reign you cocksucker. Tonight, all of this comes to a head mother fucker. I end you. Or you end me. Now the final seconds of sand falls from the hourglass bit by bit. In this Deathmatch Chris, there isn’t going to be any excuses once the dust settles and the blood stops flowing. The old school loud mouth will meet the new school, and I’m about to teach a stone-cold bitch a few new tricks. I will come into this match with a vengeance pounding you into submission. I’ll leave nothing, but a greasy bloodstain on the canvas after I am finished. You’ll bleed more than a virgin after getting pounded for the very first time. Because we all know deep inside the twat of CCP is a hymen that Tristan just can’t seem to pop. This match isn’t about wrestling it’s about beating you to death. You are facing a man without limits, a diabolical, son of a bitch built for destruction. Do you think you can run circles around me in the ring? Page get a grip on reality, you are not even close to the man you used to be in or out of the ring.

I now rule the roost. You are washed up, finished. I’m here to tell you first hand, your time has passed and passed a long, long time ago. I’m sorry to burst your over-inflated ego. But you are not a big star anymore. You don’t fill the seats. You are nothing, but a man riding coattails. You have been overrated for years. Times have changed and for the better. No longer are the days of untalented wrestlers wrestling in front of arenas packed to the rafters. Times have changed dramatically Chris and for the better. That all started when you all left this business. When you left this company. There never was a passing of the torch either Chris, the men and women behind you simply took it from your lifeless hand’s years ago. The pain and suffering I am going to put you through will not compare to anything else that you’ve seen. See I don’t need a steel chair to beat you but rest assured, the first fucking chance I get to fold one up and bitch slap you with it. I’m going to do it and keep pounding away dismantling your crippled weed-smoking ass. This match isn’t about being a technical wrestler or even ability. This match is a backyard brawl, a bar fight, it’s about revenge.

I will smash you, Chris, you will screech out in agony, but no one will come and save you from your maker. With each blow I land on that oversized, overinflated ego of yours I will shave seconds off of your life. CCP, I am going to take from you the only thing that you have left to offer me. Your smile, your pride, you will. You’ll have to prove to me there is still a little bit of fuel still in that gas tank. Because the way I see it you have four flat fucking tires. I want the fight of my life. Because after it is all over, Chris those fifteen seconds of fame will be gone. You will become what you were years ago a fading memory. A blip on the radar. And after bathing in your blood, retribution will be mine. There will be no bending or reality when it suits you during this match Page.

Robert could feel the venom flowing through his veins as the anger switch flipped inside his core, he wanted to bit Chris Pages head off. There has always been real villains and heroes throughout history, yet in everyday life aren't we a bit of both? The real battle is how to be more hero and less villain. When we feel threatened? That's natural. When we are afraid, under pressure, unloved or simply scared. That’s when a hero or villain rises to the surface. Robert has evolved to have this survival mechanism. Robert’s anger has become a defense mechanism in this toxic state. He’s fighting the monster within limiting its salivating jaws. But once that bell rings. Robert realizes he can’t stop himself from becoming any better than Chris Page. Robert turns his back to the camera placing the Universal Championship over his shoulder maybe for the last time.

Your misfortune is you are so full of your bull shit you don’t see reality for what it truly is Chris. Like I said you wanted a match with me one on one so here we are. I’m going to stuff my boots so far up your ass the water on my knee will clench your thirst. Each turn you seem to insert your foot further into your mouth.

Robert begins walking away when a hand reaches out touching his left shoulder. Robert looks at Drew as they continue forward from the right James Raven enters the frame now on the other side of Robert. Followed by Ned and Centurion brining up the rear they all continue walking away as the scene fades to static.

_-_-_-_OUTRO_-_-_-

Tonight, I walk out as Champion getting my hands muddy once again. Tonight, I’ll make a stand. I’m going to fight until the death of me. I’ve never been on the run from any man and tonight will be no different. I’ve been threatened for the last time and I’m ready to die. Chris Page, you are not who you say you are. As I battle to my last breath, as my blood splatters the canvas, Page you will get the point. You will understand that I’m not going anywhere. I might die tonight. If I do, you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life. Tonight, I stand by everything I’ve ever said. I’ve got two graves dug, one for me and you Chris. If I go down, if the ship finally sinks at the very least I can say I never ran away.
]]> <![CDATA[Chapter 10:]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34231 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 18:25:55 -0700 Chris Page]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34231 Chapter 10:

We conclude the “CHRONICAL” of CHRIS PAGE’S road to Leap of Faith as an outside shot of KNIFE’s RESTERAUNT in London, England. The popular steak house has been rented out for the evening by one “CHRONIC” CHRIS PAGE as he is hosting a dinner for all his brothers on the eve in which landscape for the Xtreme Wrestling Federation is going to change. The scene fades inside the restaurant where the window have been blacked out so that you cannot see past the front doors and inside a series of tables have been pulled together, skirted with white tables clothes as we see CHRIS PAGE, RAGE, ADAM BARKER, MDK, THE TRISTAN SLATER, JOHN GAMBINO, BILL BLAKK and FAMINE of the VILE all eight of them are dressed is casual attire with MDK suiting up for the affair. It’s a motley crew to say the very least as it’s a who’s who of wrestling minds and World Champion’s representing all styles of professional wrestling. CHRIS stands up at the head of the table while this group of Champion’s awaits their feast. The room quiets down as CHRIS starts to speak to his brothers.

CHRIS PAGE- “You know there are a few things I want to say to all of you here and now.”

CHRIS states as he shifts his eyes around the room while he continues.[/]

CHRIS PAGE- “When the XWF approached me about coming back for War Games I agreed under the condition that I would be able to hand select my team. I knew when they agreed exactly the stance I wanted to take and knew exactly who I wanted to fight by my side.”

[i]CHRIS continues to shift his eyes around the room as he states.

CHRIS PAGE- “As I look around this room I see a group of guys that nobody in a million years would predict could work together with a common purpose, I see a group of guys that have went war against each other, put each other through hell and high water and all of you should legitimately hate me; I think it’s safe to say.”

All his brothers kind of smirk while CHRIS continues.

CHRIS PAGE- “When I knew I was going to wage a war that it would take more than me and I knew the only way to get the men I need on the front lines with me by my side was to appeal to what we all have in common; mutual hate for what the XWF has done to us all in the past. When they came calling they came calling for help they thought they came to the guy that would rally a charge to change the shape of the company; well, we’ve done that and we’ve done that as a group who simply said fuck you to the establishment.”

Indeed we did and in the process we’re responsible for the single biggest boom this federation has has in nearly two years. We came in and shook the XWF to death giving it its own case of shaken baby syndrome in the process.

CHRIS PAGE- “I’m impressed with how we can put all personal feelings aside for the betterment of the end game, which is something I want you all to remember when the next brother joins the fold. “The Beast” has landed in London and if everything goes as planned we’re going to be seeing him at Leap of Faith; and speaking of Leap of Faith while I thank each and every one of you for coming this far with me I wanted to take a moment and talk about just how important tomorrow night is within this War to bring the XWF down.”

There’s a slight pause from CHRIS before he continues.

CHRIS PAGE- “This is the biggest battle in the war and will either determine our success or our failure. Some of you in this room are here because you want to stick it Jon Brown or Shane

or even James Raven for fucking you over or holding you back; whatever your reasons are doesn’t change the perspective that it’s time for us to clock in and go to work.”

CHRIS directs his attention towards the man he accredits to making him a house hold name over a decade ago in FAMINE of the VILE as he states.

CHRIS PAGE- “While having to deal with that walking

your victory will start to build the momentum for what will no doubt be a night this company isn’t ever going to forget. I hate that it’s a complete waste of time… but when your roster is what it is he is considered a “decent” talent. Just leave a little piece of him for me.”

The attention shifts towards JOHN GAMBINO, a talent that I’ve had some of my more intense battles with over the years and a guy that I’ve grown to have the upmost respect for.

CHRIS PAGE- “JOHN, do you remember what you told me when I called you about taking part in the downfall of the XWF?”

JOHN spouts out.

JOHN GAMBINO- “I told you to fuck off.”

Nodding his head in approval CHRIS responds.

CHRIS PAGE- “Indeed, you told me to fuck off… but when I laid out the layers to my plan and told you how this isn’t a group of talent with a figure head, how this group was handpicked by me to take the fight to an already struggling federation, to rip the throat out of that federation and laugh as it crumbles down to nothingness… you saw the potential, and tomorrow night when you beat Roxy Nova it’s going to start deflating the sails of all the talent that will be watching throughout the world but more importantly it’s going to continue that ball of momentum and the XWF will start to question just how far they’re prepared to go in order to win this war.”

I’m not saying that we’re going to sweep Leap of Faith… but we’re going to sweep Leap of Faith. Famine is going to throw Gilly around like a child while Rigg is going to break Roxy in half before shredding her limb from limb. Reality is going to start to set in that they’ve bitten off way more than they can fucking chew.

CHRIS PAGE- “And then we have TRISTAN…”

CHRIS turns towards THE TRISTAN SLATER.

CHRIS PAGE- “Tables scraps his self! You get to continue this wave of momentum by being the first of this brotherhood to snatch away Championship gold. That little cunt on Saturday Nights desperately wants my attention but in order to get my attention she’s got to start by going through you. You’re the man who was the go to around here back when

first re-opened the federation, rising to heights that have not been risen too since by anyone within this federation…. So it was a no brainer to pair you for a run with the Television Championship.”

The titles are important for many reasons, none more evident than those who hold the titles hold the power; this is all about power because he who has it makes the rules By taking the top three titles with the XWF pecking order means we control the upper card of this federation. Most of you are still bent because my brothers are challenging for titles while some of you aren’t even sniffing a division to challenge for. Funny if you ask me because my brothers walk in the door and are handed the opportunities that all of you have to claw for. Losers.

CHRIS PAGE- “Each title represents a chain in the link within the XWF and each has a semblance of importance; when you control the Television Title you control Saturday Night’s… and as we know Saturday Night’s is the gateway to Wednesday Night’s. We control Saturday Night’s we control who gets to Wednesday Nights. It’s crucial that this plays exactly as it needs to play.”

THE TRISTAN SLATER speaks to CHRIS.

THE TRISTAN SLATER- “I’m going to show up and show out… but uh, I do have a serious question I need to ask you.”

CHRIS PAGE- “Shoot.”

THE TRISTAN SLATER- “Did I seriously see you in a Trump/Pence shirt?”

CHRIS laughs to himself before he spouts out.

CHRIS PAGE- “And my skin nearly burned.”

THE TRISTAN SLATER- “Why the fuck did you wear it?”

CHRIS PAGE- “Cheap heat, cheap heat.”

THE TRISTAN SLATER- “It worked.”

CHRIS PAGE- “I know.”

CHRIS winks at TRISTAN before shifting his attention towards both BILL BLAKK and MDK as he continues.

CHRIS PAGE- “It brings us to the Tag Titles as apparently there’s about to be some sort of resurgence within the division; right now it’s stagnant and stale as Apex-Prophecy has pretty much been running the show and controlling the upper tier of this federation for far too long and is in need of some fresh air breathed into its lungs.”

Isn’t it funny how the Apex-Prophecy has been on top of the XWF for as long as they have fighting the battles they know that they are going to win. Nobody has been able to legitimately oppose them until we kicked in your doors and ever since they’ve been on the defensive. Hell, Centurion has stayed so far away because he knew that In the case of ass whipping he’d be taking way more than he’d be giving. Roxy has been as quiet as a mouse while the rest of them have been catching beating after beatings after beating.

CHRIS PAGE- “We are that fresh air and by stripping them of those titles will only serve as foreshadowing for what I plan on doing to close things out for the Universal Championship.”

I’ll never speak for my brothers I can only speak for myself and when I tell you I am so eager to take center stage on a national setting to embarrass the one man that nobody has been able to figure out while taking DICK’s title in the process is only bitter sweet.

CHRIS PAGE- “We all have some pressure on our shoulders to live up to all the hype but nobody in this room is under a microscope more than I am and failure is not an option for me. I understand the situation that I am involved in and I know that should I fail the scrutiny that we will all be under. As I look around this room I am here to promise each and every one of you that I am not going to let any of you down and that I will take away the crown jewel of the XWF.”

RICHARD hasn’t been much of a threat when he’s met with someone of my stature that can not only go toe to toe verbally but can meet that physically. He’s been reeling with each and every knockout blow he’s been dealt and now he’s on the ropes while just a Page Plant away from letting the entire XWF down. This old, burn out has more talent in his left nut than your Universal Champion has throughout his entire body.

CHRIS PAGE- “We are in line for a clean sweep at Leap of Faith and by doing so will not only bring us the major titles it will also sending a very loud, very clear message to the entire XWF as to what to expect with this War and it will also serve as the first major shot at this company. We will have the power and we will have the momentum to watch this organization to crumble.”

Bad things are going to happen come Leap of Faith we we’re on the eve of what will be the single worst night in this company’s history. When I leave as the new Universal Champion all bets are off and the real fun is going to begin.

CHRIS PAGE- “Tonight is nothing more than a simple token of my gratitude because you all believe in me and you all believe in the common goal we’ve set forth. Tomorrow night we’re all going to be treated to have the legend that is RAGE in our corners. RAGE will serve as each of our managers from this point forward and brings a wealth of knowledge to the table that will be hugely beneficial to us all… and I’m pleased to announce that ADAM BARKER will once again serve as my personal manager and will be back in my corner once again as he’s been so many times throughout my career.”

That’s right fuckers.

CHRIS PAGE- “I want us to celebrate tonight for tomorrow night we’re going to be partying all night long.”

The scene draws to a close as the spread for the brothers starts to be brought to the table by several waiters dressed in black slacks, white button down dress shirts that are tucked into their pants with black ties.

End scene.

I'll leave you with this.

]]> <![CDATA[Final Words]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34230 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 17:58:52 -0700 Famine of the Vile]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34230 It’s all fun and games until some piss ant mentions your name and calls you out like they’ve earned the right to do so. Listen Petey, your attempt at thinking you know what I’m going to say before I say it was as pathetic as watching Barney Green dance.

Look, let’s just cut the shit and get down to brass tacks here alright? I had more to say so here I am cutting another promo just to get this shit off my chest because the thoughts are flowing through my veins like the last five beers I just finished drinking. You spent about ten minutes running your mouth about Chris Page and what he did and who he attacked or lost to instead of putting your focus where it needs to be.

I actually found it quite insulting to be honest and it pissed me off. You’re forgetting something here Pete and that is that before you ever decided to lace up a pair of boots I was swinging metal chairs at people like Trent Gein and Killjoy. Beating the likes of legends like Dynamic Dynamite and running roughshod with my partner Scott Young. So please, tell me more about what you’ve done in the last ten years other than lose weight? And please don’t even dare mention again how you’ve kept this company relevant because if YOU’RE one of the reasons this place is still relevant then I have to call into question the powers that be.

You said that Chris sent his weakest link to attack you. Weakest link? For all your talk Pete do you really know who you’re fucking with? Do you have any idea who I am deep down inside? You don’t have a clue because you don’t take the time to really know or understand your opponent. Talking is one thing but getting in that ring and walking the walk is another which is going to be something very difficult for you once I’m done kicking your ass from pillar to post.

By the way, I don’t give a shit who Vinnie Lane is. To be honest I couldn’t care less who’s running things around here. I can simply come in, kick your ass and walk away because to me, none of this matters anymore. I’m not that guy who would come in to work and focus on titles and being the best of the best. I’ve done that and proved it time and again. Things are different now. I’m just here to have fun, crack skulls and put bitches like you in their place. When I attacked you, that was just my way of warning you to be careful who you get in the face of. You never know who’s listening or watching. If you want to have a long and fruitful career I suggest you rethink your actions before you do something stupid. Like taking me on at Leap of Faith.

“I believe this is our first match together so it'l be interesting to see what happens between us.”

Really? That’s the best you could come up with? See what happens between us? Here’s what’s going to happen between us Gilmour; I’m going to walk down that ramp, get in the ring and beat the shit out of you like I’ve done to countless others before you. You may get a couple of good shots in, maybe some impressive moves to thrill the crowd but once you’ve done that, the only thing left will be for me to hit you with the Devil’s Spike and it’s over. I’ll leave you beaten and bloodied while the ref raises my hand in victory as I look down at you and relish in the violence I unleashed on you.

“I am the ass kissing, pussy fucking KING of Xtreme and I'll be damned if I let you stomp all over me. I will give you a fight you never saw coming. I'm much stronger and faster than you Famine and I will exploit all your weaknesses.”

Yes. Yes you are Pete. You’re definitely an ass kisser and a pussy. King of extreme? Have you ever doused a metal chair with gasoline, set it on fire and then cracked it over the head of your opponent? Hearing it singe his flesh and smelling it as it burns? Have you ever beaten someone half to death with a barbed wire bat? King of extreme? I created the Devil’s Playground. The most demonic structure ever to be assembled here in the XWF. EVERY single match that took place inside of that thing was nothing short of a bloodbath and you want to call yourself the king of extreme? I want to see you try to expose these so called weaknesses you talk about. I hope you do give me a fight but truth be told, I don’t expect much from you.

All I expect from you is fear. The fear that is going to course through your veins as you stand toe to toe with me and look into the eyes of darkness. The fear that is going to cause you to be beaten, victimized and conquered to quote someone I know. So bring your best Gilmour because it’s just not going to be enough. It’s NEVER going to be enough! At Leap of Faith, not only will I make an example out of you but I will make sure that you never get in my way or in the way of my brothers again. You may have been here to keep this place running but WE are the ones who built this fucking place and opened the doors for guys like you to come in. So when you’re cashing that paycheck remember one thing…If it wasn’t for men like me, little boys like you would still be in the fucking backyard pretending to be wrestlers.

Bring your so called A game Petey because in the end I’m going to expose you for the D+ player you really are!]]> It’s all fun and games until some piss ant mentions your name and calls you out like they’ve earned the right to do so. Listen Petey, your attempt at thinking you know what I’m going to say before I say it was as pathetic as watching Barney Green dance.

Look, let’s just cut the shit and get down to brass tacks here alright? I had more to say so here I am cutting another promo just to get this shit off my chest because the thoughts are flowing through my veins like the last five beers I just finished drinking. You spent about ten minutes running your mouth about Chris Page and what he did and who he attacked or lost to instead of putting your focus where it needs to be.

I actually found it quite insulting to be honest and it pissed me off. You’re forgetting something here Pete and that is that before you ever decided to lace up a pair of boots I was swinging metal chairs at people like Trent Gein and Killjoy. Beating the likes of legends like Dynamic Dynamite and running roughshod with my partner Scott Young. So please, tell me more about what you’ve done in the last ten years other than lose weight? And please don’t even dare mention again how you’ve kept this company relevant because if YOU’RE one of the reasons this place is still relevant then I have to call into question the powers that be.

You said that Chris sent his weakest link to attack you. Weakest link? For all your talk Pete do you really know who you’re fucking with? Do you have any idea who I am deep down inside? You don’t have a clue because you don’t take the time to really know or understand your opponent. Talking is one thing but getting in that ring and walking the walk is another which is going to be something very difficult for you once I’m done kicking your ass from pillar to post.

By the way, I don’t give a shit who Vinnie Lane is. To be honest I couldn’t care less who’s running things around here. I can simply come in, kick your ass and walk away because to me, none of this matters anymore. I’m not that guy who would come in to work and focus on titles and being the best of the best. I’ve done that and proved it time and again. Things are different now. I’m just here to have fun, crack skulls and put bitches like you in their place. When I attacked you, that was just my way of warning you to be careful who you get in the face of. You never know who’s listening or watching. If you want to have a long and fruitful career I suggest you rethink your actions before you do something stupid. Like taking me on at Leap of Faith.

“I believe this is our first match together so it'l be interesting to see what happens between us.”

Really? That’s the best you could come up with? See what happens between us? Here’s what’s going to happen between us Gilmour; I’m going to walk down that ramp, get in the ring and beat the shit out of you like I’ve done to countless others before you. You may get a couple of good shots in, maybe some impressive moves to thrill the crowd but once you’ve done that, the only thing left will be for me to hit you with the Devil’s Spike and it’s over. I’ll leave you beaten and bloodied while the ref raises my hand in victory as I look down at you and relish in the violence I unleashed on you.

“I am the ass kissing, pussy fucking KING of Xtreme and I'll be damned if I let you stomp all over me. I will give you a fight you never saw coming. I'm much stronger and faster than you Famine and I will exploit all your weaknesses.”

Yes. Yes you are Pete. You’re definitely an ass kisser and a pussy. King of extreme? Have you ever doused a metal chair with gasoline, set it on fire and then cracked it over the head of your opponent? Hearing it singe his flesh and smelling it as it burns? Have you ever beaten someone half to death with a barbed wire bat? King of extreme? I created the Devil’s Playground. The most demonic structure ever to be assembled here in the XWF. EVERY single match that took place inside of that thing was nothing short of a bloodbath and you want to call yourself the king of extreme? I want to see you try to expose these so called weaknesses you talk about. I hope you do give me a fight but truth be told, I don’t expect much from you.

All I expect from you is fear. The fear that is going to course through your veins as you stand toe to toe with me and look into the eyes of darkness. The fear that is going to cause you to be beaten, victimized and conquered to quote someone I know. So bring your best Gilmour because it’s just not going to be enough. It’s NEVER going to be enough! At Leap of Faith, not only will I make an example out of you but I will make sure that you never get in my way or in the way of my brothers again. You may have been here to keep this place running but WE are the ones who built this fucking place and opened the doors for guys like you to come in. So when you’re cashing that paycheck remember one thing…If it wasn’t for men like me, little boys like you would still be in the fucking backyard pretending to be wrestlers.

Bring your so called A game Petey because in the end I’m going to expose you for the D+ player you really are!]]> <![CDATA[Home Sweet Home]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34228 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 17:12:41 -0700 MDK]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34228
Tannoy: “The next arrival in terminal 5 is the 09:57 from Las Vegas…”

Heathrow airport, mid morning and M.D.K. smugly makes his way through the bustling airport with his bag slung over his shoulder. He has his phone in his hand as he awaits the signal to kick in back to UK phone signal. As it kicks in, notifications stream through his phone including half a dozen messages from an unknown number as well as a few missed calls from the same number. As he makes his way out of the airport, a familiar black car pulls up in the pick up area and the rear window rolls down and Chris Page smirks at M.D.K as he stands there.

Page: “Need a ride?”

M.D.K. smirks and we are treated to a London skyline as the car weaves through the traffic. We move into the rear of the car where M.D.K. and Page are smoking cigars and laughing.

Page: “Phone not working?”

M.D.K.: “Been busy…”

Page: “Email not working?”

M.D.K.: “Been busy.”

Page: “Not attending team meetings?”

M.D.K.: “Busy.”

Page: “Not replying to the team Whatsapp group?”

M.D.K.: “Look… I could say the same thing… but I’d sound like a stuck record…”

Page: “Busy?”

M.D.K.: “Mainly… but also I really can’t be bothered…”

---

M.D.K.: “Home sweet home… London England. The place where I was immortalised in the annals of history of professional wrestling, the place where greatness originated and the place where a; pf your dreams started to come crumbling down… None more so than the likes of WGWF alumni and one who will no doubt have had a front row seat at those was Chris Page.”

“That is why he drafted me here… he knows damn well the chaos I can bring, the pain I deliver and the misery I can dispense. And ever since I have set foot in the XWF, that is all I have done. I have come in and beaten, battered and broken the carcasses that have slobbed their way across the ring. I have taken the liberty of systematically breaking each and every supposed star of this company, I have taken the opportunity to dissect your sacks of meat that you dare to call a roster.”

“That is why without setting foot in the ring in a competitive match, the powers that be are so fucking fearful of me, are so fucking clueless and so fucking out of ideas, that they are feeding the tag team titles to Bill Blackk and I for… reasons?”

“Bill and I have bullied our way to this position and the powers that be are standing back and letting our brotherhood have our way with the XWF. Not only have each and every one of you peons, pissants and peasants bent over and presented to us but you are gifting us gold in my own country… You are feeding me James Raven yet again and you are letting me decimate, dominate and devastate your carnival of mediocrity. You expect much from me?”

“Think again.”]]>
Tannoy: “The next arrival in terminal 5 is the 09:57 from Las Vegas…”

Heathrow airport, mid morning and M.D.K. smugly makes his way through the bustling airport with his bag slung over his shoulder. He has his phone in his hand as he awaits the signal to kick in back to UK phone signal. As it kicks in, notifications stream through his phone including half a dozen messages from an unknown number as well as a few missed calls from the same number. As he makes his way out of the airport, a familiar black car pulls up in the pick up area and the rear window rolls down and Chris Page smirks at M.D.K as he stands there.

Page: “Need a ride?”

M.D.K. smirks and we are treated to a London skyline as the car weaves through the traffic. We move into the rear of the car where M.D.K. and Page are smoking cigars and laughing.

Page: “Phone not working?”

M.D.K.: “Been busy…”

Page: “Email not working?”

M.D.K.: “Been busy.”

Page: “Not attending team meetings?”

M.D.K.: “Busy.”

Page: “Not replying to the team Whatsapp group?”

M.D.K.: “Look… I could say the same thing… but I’d sound like a stuck record…”

Page: “Busy?”

M.D.K.: “Mainly… but also I really can’t be bothered…”

---

M.D.K.: “Home sweet home… London England. The place where I was immortalised in the annals of history of professional wrestling, the place where greatness originated and the place where a; pf your dreams started to come crumbling down… None more so than the likes of WGWF alumni and one who will no doubt have had a front row seat at those was Chris Page.”

“That is why he drafted me here… he knows damn well the chaos I can bring, the pain I deliver and the misery I can dispense. And ever since I have set foot in the XWF, that is all I have done. I have come in and beaten, battered and broken the carcasses that have slobbed their way across the ring. I have taken the liberty of systematically breaking each and every supposed star of this company, I have taken the opportunity to dissect your sacks of meat that you dare to call a roster.”

“That is why without setting foot in the ring in a competitive match, the powers that be are so fucking fearful of me, are so fucking clueless and so fucking out of ideas, that they are feeding the tag team titles to Bill Blackk and I for… reasons?”

“Bill and I have bullied our way to this position and the powers that be are standing back and letting our brotherhood have our way with the XWF. Not only have each and every one of you peons, pissants and peasants bent over and presented to us but you are gifting us gold in my own country… You are feeding me James Raven yet again and you are letting me decimate, dominate and devastate your carnival of mediocrity. You expect much from me?”

“Think again.”]]> <![CDATA[Just Running Away From Getting to Know Yourself]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34227 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 16:32:04 -0700 Tony Santos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34227 Cab Driver: Where to, chief?

Santos: Buckingham Palace.

Cab Driver: You here to take claim the crown for America or something, chief?

Santos: Sort of.

The scene opens in London, England. We find ourselves leaving Heathrow Airport in a black London cab. It's a cloudy London afternoon, and the taxi pickup area is buzzing with travelers from far and wide, many in town specifically to watch Leap of Faith, while many others couldn't name a single wrestler, let alone care about the show. The camera turns to the back seat of the cab, displaying Tony Santos, legs spread out, his eyes peering through the foggy back seat window to watch the bustling world around him. London is a far different town that Boston, San Francisco, or Oakland. Think of a city with the same amount of people as New York (although much more spread out), with a culture that reveres royalty, and has very little human waste on the street.

Oh, and they drive on the left side of the road and call money "quid." But at least they have the same dental structure as Tony! You gotta take what you can get, I guess.

Tony sits in the back seat, Hart Title wrapped securely around his waist, much more so than the seat belt left unbuckled to his side. Tony's fingers are tightly clenched, his fingers fidgeting, his wrists pulsating. It's like two different bodies attached together, as Tony's face is barely registering any emotion, let alone panic or anxiety. He simply sits... and stares. Tony bits his lips, peeling off excess skin, leaving those divots doctors tell you about when you rip the skin off of your lips. Little dashes of blood line his mouth where skin used to be, and Tony plays with the skin fragments along the roof of his mouth. His tongue rolls the small bits of skin into little balls, then he chews on those bits of skin, before swallowing.

Tony moves his tongue to the corner of his mouth, where he lets out a slight cringe. One of Tony's molars has started to go into decay, thanks to poor dental hygiene. Instead of trying to fix the problem, he simply decided to play with it to feel just how much it hurt, and see if he could miraculously fix it by putting pressure on it.

Spoiler: He can't.

The cab buzzes down the road, leaving Heathrow as nothing more than a blip in the distance. It winds down very tight, and windy, London roads, and a particularly hard left turn kicks gravel into the undercarriage. We zip down an evener narrower road, before we hit a sudden...

Santos: STOP!

The car comes to a screeching halt, with Tony launching into the front divider of the car, hitting his head in the process. Tony lays on the floor of the car for a few seconds, muttering unintelligible words under his breath. He lifts himself up by his large, swollen palms, before slowly plopping his large frame back on to his seat. The cab driver looks over at Tony, a small cut on his forehead, and his face widens.

Cab Driver: Oh bloody shit, chief, are you okay? That fucker came out of nowhere, I'm so sorry!

Tony blinks slow blinks, his vision slightly blurred from the hit to the head. He very likely has a minor concussion, one of many he's suffered, untreated, through his decade or so wrestling career. It wouldn't matter to Tony tonight, just like it hadn't any of the past dozen or so times he's taken a hard knee to the head, or smacked his head against pavement during a rowdy Boston fistfight. Nope, he'd just stop at the closest Aldi, pop some Advil, and down it with a hit... or two, of whiskey, erm...

...water. A strong hit of water, and proclaim himself good to go. Sure, he'll likely end up with a bad case of dementia in his 50s, but that's 20 years away, COME ON NOW, you gotta live your life to the fullest, after all, right?

Tony blinks another slow blink, practically staring through the cab driver's head. In the distance, he sees the person who was the reason for the sudden stop.

An older gentleman stares back at Tony... directly at Tony. He's in his late 50s, maybe early 60s. He's got a walker in hand, a pint of Guinness in the other. He flashes a smile that Tony knows all too well, when suddenly.

Santos (thinking to himself): Is that a Red Sox sweatshirt?

The man winks at Tony.

Brian: You're god damn right it is, bud.

Tony's dad, Brian Sullivan, dead for almost 20 years. Tony shakes his head, simultaneously rubbing his eyes in the process. He focuses on the man in front of him, only to see, this:

[Image: walking-cane-man-banner-1140x517.jpg]

Just some random old guy who can't hear or see cars zipping past him on the street. Just some old, oblivious man.

Santos: I'm fine.

He isn't fine. Tony sits against the back seat as the cab driver continues along his route. Tony's head sits against the head rest, the gash on his forehead turning a more crimson hue. As the car rolls along, Tony can't help but crank his head to the right, looking back at the old man.

Why was Tony running into his long dead father so much recently? Why did a hit to the head cause him to see an older, more ravaged version of his father in some random old guy lumbering across the road? Was he going crazy? What was he going crazy from?. Alcohol withdrawal can be a real bitch, but so can a decade of hard hits to the head. More than anything else, a bunch of bottled up anger, depression, and paranoia could make an otherwise stable man start to lose his mind, let alone someone in the mental state of Tony Santos.

Tony's head turns back to the front, then to the camera in front of him. His slightly glazed eyes gaze into the lens. No smile this time. Tony simply rests his hands on his Hart Title, still clinging to his waist. He taps it slightly, never losing his gaze on the camera.

Santos: Sorry, Hanari, I guess you caught me in, yet another, moment of... vulnerability. I guess I just can't present myself with the same level of mastery you can, and that's, too bad? You seem to catch me only at my worst, huh?

Living through a flashback of my dead dad dying, seeing my own mix of grief and... elation, as 12-year-old me sits in a dreary little hospital.

Talking to said dead dad, and getting berated by that pile of noxious gas, before returning from yet another hallucination.

And now, you catch me here, with this cut over my head.

Man, I just haven't presented myself to your liking, Hanari. I guess I just haven't gotten over the demons I so willingly placed throughout this aching body of mine, and I'm so sorry you've had to watch this continued horror play itself out in front of your screen. I'm so sorry I don't live up to your standards, Hanari.

But I guess that's what makes me better than you, doesn't it? Whereas I face the shit in front of me, and so willingly bring it to everything I do, since it's who I am, you aspire to some fantasy of class and sophistication. You look in the mirror every day, flash a smile to convince yourself everything is alright.

That you're not a petulant little narcissist.

That you're not a shameless womanizer.

That you didn't just, you know, tell the world you're happy a woman was MURDERED, you fucking psychopath.

And most importantly, you convince yourself that you're much greater than you truly are.

You brush that slick hair of yours into place, moisturize that charming face, and slap some cologne, all to make you look good to the outside world. You really make sure everyone buys into the grift you're running. But it's just like a coat of paint on those shitty little kit cars you folks have in good ol' "el dominicano." It's all a facade, covering up the mix of half-rate parts, imported from other third world nations, all held together by duct tape and rusty screws.

But I see through you, Hanari, and I can guaran-fucking-tee you most everyone watching you does as well. Because we don't just see a beautiful Dominican specimen in front of us, no no...

...we get to hear you speak.

And when you speak, you show yourself to just be someone who's always trying to catch up. You heap me with praise, then, when I tell you how utterly half-rate you are, you say I'm... not that great?

I make a killer metaphor, that you didn't even acknowledge...

Thanks for that.

But I make a killer metaphor of you, you know, being in a plane and nosediving into a body of water that represents your endless sea of insecurities, and you counter with...

Tony lifts his phone to his face, taps it furiously, then turns the screen to the camera.

Quote:"He was no longer like Tony Santos, who is drowning in his insecurities."

Tony drops his phone to the seat, partially on purpose, partially because he was losing feeling in his hand.

Santos: You copied me in your narration? You couldn't even add it to your talk track? You couldn't even plagiarize me properly?

And then you follow with the incredible boast:

Quote:"He is no longer like Tony Santos, because he was going to be successful at Leap of Faith."

Quote:"He was no longer like Tony Santos, who is drowning in his insecurities."

Quote:"He is no longer like Tony Santos, because he was going to be successful at Leap of Faith."

Tony's eyes roll, his head still leaning against the seat.

Santos: Your mediocrity is only matched by the amount of effort you put into portraying a level of grandiose to the outside world.

Hanari, let me give you a little lesson as to why I'm holding this belt, since you seem to think I don't deserve it. But I won't talk about opponents, even though, you know, you clearly didn't do your homework on my other successful defenses. No no, your mediocrity extends into your poor research skills. Let's just say I've taken down an Aussie with Tourette's, two fucking legends, and a spaceman who'd been a thorn in my side since the day I joined this company six years ago.

See, I learned from my past failures. I learned from squandering huge opportunities. King of the XWF? Lost that one hard to John Madison. Two title shots in one pay per view? Yup, squandered those as well. Hell, when I held titles, I lost them in literal days, if not weeks.

But I came back. I looked my "insecurities" in the face, accepted my bullshit, and embraced the good, and the bad, of the man you see laying in this cab. And so I came back, and I won... a lot. Only one loss, Hanari! One!

And so here I sit, champion. But while I'm champion, I will happily admit that I'm one of the most flawed champions you'll come across. I'm not as polished as Main. I'm not as fucking smooth as Lux. And I sure as hell ain't as dominant as Drew and James. But here's what I am:

Incredibly paranoid, pretty fucking angry, and a little crazy.

Too paranoid to let myself lose the one bit of worth attached to this alcoholic frame.

Too angry to let some insurgent challenger with a swollen head take it away with a cloud of hot, Dominican air.

And just crazy enough to tear you apart in a wrestling ring.

And that's why I'm champion.

The cab comes to a screeching halt.

Cab Driver: We're here, chief!

Tony lifts his head, practically falling over inside the cab, before righting himself. He pulls out 50 quid, tossing it at the driver. He turns back to the camera, pointing at the Buckingham Palace grounds in the distance.

Santos: Here we are, Hanari. The spot where you'll get to grab the symbol of success you can't simply buy like everything else you pull over those broad shoulders of yours. Nope, you gotta win this one, my friend.

Quick, grab a mirror in whatever swanky hotel you're staying in in London. Look at yourself in that mirror. Don't smile, don't rehearse the trite garbage you spout to convince yourself of your greatness... just look at yourself.

Really look.

Look deep down, and ask yourself this question: What scares me? What makes me tick? What makes me better than everyone else?

Can you answer those questions? Honestly, Hanari, can you?

I bet you can't. You can't, because you're not willing to admit that you're a fraud. You're not willing to admit that...

You're scared of being outed for the farce of a wrestler, and human being, that you are.

You're scared of realizing that the only thing that makes you tick... that makes you angry, is the realization that the men, and women, you find so inferior to you, can kick your teeth in at a moment's notice.

And you're absolutely fucking frightened to realize that you aren't better than everyone else. You've just told yourself you are.

But that ain't gonna be enough, Hanari. Not tomorrow night. Not against me.

Tony stares on to the grounds. Tourists gleefully take pictures in front of Buckingham Palace, many holding poses as if taking part in their own coronation.

Santos: It's been 66 years since there was a transfer of power here, Hanari. 66 years! Well, I'm sorry to say this, but tomorrow's not gonna break that trend. Not Hanari Carnes. Not against Tony Santos.

Don't cash that check just yet.

The scene fades to black.]]> <![CDATA[Back at it Again]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34225 Sat, 27 Jul 2019 14:35:26 -0700 Famine of the Vile]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=34225 Life

Orlando Florida. The time is 4pm and the weather is it’s usually shitty self. A few moments of sun followed by a downpour that lasts for hours and then it’s back to sun again. That’s just how life is here in the so called sunshine state. Our scene begins at The Devil’s Pit which is owned by none other than hall of famer Famine of the Vile, or Hadrian Burke as he likes to be called outside of the business.

The Devil’s Pit is the wrestling gym that he opened a year after his son Brandon passed away to give young upstarts a chance to break into the wrestling business. He has dedicated himself to making sure that they know the truth about this business and that they understand this isn’t pretend like some would have you think. That they understand that at the end of the day, the road to stardom depends on them and them alone because in this business, no one will just hand you anything free of charge. You have to claw, fight, scratch, bleed and even break some bones in order to get to that mountain top.

We are now inside The Devil’s Pit and see Hadrian standing outside of the ring watching two young guys work on their match by going over spots and moves they want to hit. The gym isn’t flashy like you would think. There are no trophies, no plaques, no pictures or title belts on the walls anywhere. It’s all very industrial looking. Simple. Just a lot of workout equipment, a ring and an area to practice promos complete with a camera and green screen. In the back you have your lockers and showers as well as Hadrian’s office which is over to the right of the building.

Hadrian: Adam you have to make sure that when you hook him for the suplex that you make it look like you’re really putting effort into it. You can’t just be lackadaisical about it! The people who are paying to see you aren’t stupid so they’ll pick up on that right away. In order to make them believe, YOU have to believe. You have to get into character. BE the character. Embrace who you want to be in that ring. They’ll never take you seriously if you’re just acting. It’s more than that.

The young man shakes his head as he and the other wrestler continue to work on their moves. The young man named Adam tries the suplex again, this time making it look much better.

Hadrian: THAT right there? That’s what I’m talking about. You see how you did that? You got into it. You made me believe that you’re trying to take this guy out. That’s what the fans want to see. Forget all of this PG bullshit you see on TV right now. People want to be impressed and awed. They want to believe your story from the moment your music hits, to your promos to getting in that ring and attacking your opponent. They don’t want you to sit there and just prance around trying to look good. You have to give them the whole package. Great Job! Jason, you’re doing a great job selling so let’s try it with you now. Go on the defensive and show me how you’re going to make the crowd root for you to come back.

As Hadrian continues to talk, the phone rings. It’s none other than John Gambino also known as Bigg Rigg who has been one of Hadrian’s closest friends for the last ten years.

Hadrian: Hey guys, keep working and Scott will take over for me, I need to take this call. What’s up Rigg?

Rigg: How you doin brother?

Hadrian: Just trying to get these guys to focus man. What’s going on?

Rigg: Nothing much. I just wanted to wish you good luck on your match with Gilmour.

They both laugh after a few seconds.

Hadrian: Thanks brother. I needed a good laugh today. Is that really why you called though?

Rigg: I figured you could use a chuckle or two but no, that’s not why I called. Look, I know you’re busy but I was hoping we could get together with the rest of the boys for a few drinks, maybe some food? Laura would love to see you man. It’s been a while.

Hadrian: I know brother. It’s getting harder to find some free time lately. Between us getting back to XWF, the gym and the new cigar shop I’m opening up in October I can’t catch a break. But how about we meet up on Wednesday?

Rigg: Yeah. Wednesday works. Laura and I just need to finish up some family matters but that sounds like a plan.

Hadrian: Ok great. I’ll give you a call before I fly up and once I’m there we can set some time aside to plan for our shot at the tag titles.

Rigg: You know we’re gonna take those titles right?

Hadrian: I think we have a good shot.

Rigg: A good shot? That doesn’t sound like the Famine I know.

Hadrian: I know. I just don’t want to get cocky and make a mistake. We need to bring our hundred percent focus and just lay these guys out but I don’t want to just be like “we’re gonna walk out of there as champs” that’s how guys lose. Been there and done that.

Rigg: I got you brother. Listen, I know you’re busy so I’ll let you go but I’ll see you Wednesday.

Hadrian: You got it my friend. Talk to you soon.

Hadrian hangs up the phone and then heads to his office. He takes a seat and just stares at his computer monitor. He then goes to the XWF website and begins watching Peter Gilmour’s promo as our scene fades to black.

Hours later……

The gym is now closed and it’s close to 11pm. Hadrian has called his camera guy to come down and help him record his promo.

Carlos: Did you really want to do this here? I thought you’d want to travel somewhere dark and mysterious like we’ve done in the past?

Hadrian: After watching how sad his promo was? I’m not going to fly anywhere and waste money for a promo on a guy who couldn’t walk half a mile in my boots. This’ll be fine. Just let me know when you’re rolling.

Carlos: You got it.

Hadrian gets into position in front of the camera while the green screen shows a gateway to the pit of hell.

Carlos: Ok. Rolling in 3….2….1!

Back at it Again – The Trash Talk Portion

It’s been a while since I did one of these so where do I start? How about we just get right down to business?

Peter, Peter, Peter. Have you ever heard the phrase don’t wake a sleeping giant? Of course you haven’t what am I thinking? You can barely read let alone think which is why all you did was run your mouth in your latest promo. While you’re admiring your mansion and cars and trying to be a big shot, all I’ve been doing is training and focusing. Not on you of course. No, no Gilmour. I’ve been focusing on the path that lies ahead and you’re nothing more than a speed bump on that path. I’ll get through you with ease and go on to be who I’ve always been. The fucking Demon King!

You see Gilmour, in my entire career I’ve seen dozens upon dozens of guys like you come and go. You have no substance, no gravitas Peter. You’re a joke. You walk around claiming the boys in the back hate you, that the fans love you and yet here you still are, years after I retired and you’ve accomplished absolutely nothing. What have you done to stand out Peter? Copied other superstars? Tried to revamp yourself as some bad-ass ladies’ man who can take out any man he wishes? That’s not you Peter. You know it, I know it and the entire wrestling world knows it. You’re a wanna-be who’s never been and never gonna be. So why don’t we just cut the shit and show the world you’re all talk? I’m about to expose you for the liar you are and when I do, what will you do next Petey? Run with your tail tucked between your legs back to your mansion?

You see Peter, the reason I have and always will be better than you is because you don’t have an understanding of how serious this is. You think I’m Chris’ lackey? That I “suck his dick”? This is why you’re an idiot Pete. You don’t know me like you think you do. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me because if you did? You’d know that the man deep down inside of this exterior is a dark, twisted and evil motherfucker who will damn near kill you if given the chance.

See Peter, I learned something about myself a few nights ago. I sat back while having a La Palina No. 1 and some Woodford Reserve and I got to thinking. Who am I? That is a question I haven’t asked myself in a very, very long time. It took me a while to think back on my life and look at everything that’s happened and you know what happened? I found myself Pete. I found out that deep down inside, I can snap at any given moment if and when I’m pushed too far. Just because over these last few years I’ve toned down my persona and focused on life outside of the wrestling business doesn’t mean that I won’t hesitate to throw you off a fucking rooftop or crack your skull with a chair. The demon is still very much a part of me because it never left.

You push too far and you’re going to wake him up. When that happens I hope you have the balls to stand toe to toe with me and show me you’re not afraid. But you and I both know you are. This whole tough rich guy attitude is fooling no one and the more you push, the more dangerous this game becomes Petey boy. At Leap of Faith you’re going to stand in that ring and you’re going to see that you don’t have, never had and will NEVER have a chance in hell of stopping or beating me. You’re not at a level where you can stand against the Demon King and put him in a “body bag” as you said in your promo because it doesn’t matter how many years have gone by. I’ve gotten stronger, faster and better than I ever was. Just because I’ve been away doesn’t mean I ever really left.

And I’m not even going to get into that old game of what list I’m on, what I’ve done in my career and blah, blah, blah. I was crushing skulls and ending careers long before you made your stain in the business. I’ve wrestled and beaten some of the best wrestlers the XWF has ever had and you think you’re going to make a name for yourself by beating me? I don’t think anyone, not even you actually believes that’s going to happen. So instead of bragging about what you have, where you’ve been and who loves or hates you, why don’t you focus on the problem at hand? ME! Because you’ve spent an awful lot of time focusing on Chris Page when you should have been addressing me the entire time. Yet here you are obsessed with Chris and what he has done like a fangirl going on Facebook to swoon over whatever the fuck the latest boy band is.

Let me say one more thing about this whole Chris Page thing before I finish. You said that Chris has us doing his dirty work for him. That he’s not man enough to take you on so he sent me instead. Let’s be clear on one thing Pete; I am no one’s lackey or errand boy. Chris, myself, Rigg, Slater and the rest of the crew are working together for a common goal and what we do? We do as a cohesive unit. No one tells any of us what to do and you know what? It gave me great joy to beat the shit out of you when I did and to be honest, I thought that it would cause you to run away and not show up at Leap of Faith but here you are, running your mouth like you have a chance in hell of stopping me. I find it cute actually so I’ll give you some credit there. You took your beating like a man. But you don’t understand the art of war so it doesn’t matter if you come to the ring with guns blazing and an arsenal at your disposal because it won’t help you. Not one bit!

You see Petey, all warfare is based on deception and you’ve been deceived since the moment we came back. You saw one thing while we focused and planned on another. We made you go left when you should have really gone right and in the end, your demise will be because of you. You never saw it coming and at Leap of Faith you’ll finally understand that no matter how many years go by or what you accomplish in your pathetic life, you will NEVER beat me!]]> Life

Orlando Florida. The time is 4pm and the weather is it’s usually shitty self. A few moments of sun followed by a downpour that lasts for hours and then it’s back to sun again. That’s just how life is here in the so called sunshine state. Our scene begins at The Devil’s Pit which is owned by none other than hall of famer Famine of the Vile, or Hadrian Burke as he likes to be called outside of the business.

The Devil’s Pit is the wrestling gym that he opened a year after his son Brandon passed away to give young upstarts a chance to break into the wrestling business. He has dedicated himself to making sure that they know the truth about this business and that they understand this isn’t pretend like some would have you think. That they understand that at the end of the day, the road to stardom depends on them and them alone because in this business, no one will just hand you anything free of charge. You have to claw, fight, scratch, bleed and even break some bones in order to get to that mountain top.

We are now inside The Devil’s Pit and see Hadrian standing outside of the ring watching two young guys work on their match by going over spots and moves they want to hit. The gym isn’t flashy like you would think. There are no trophies, no plaques, no pictures or title belts on the walls anywhere. It’s all very industrial looking. Simple. Just a lot of workout equipment, a ring and an area to practice promos complete with a camera and green screen. In the back you have your lockers and showers as well as Hadrian’s office which is over to the right of the building.

Hadrian: Adam you have to make sure that when you hook him for the suplex that you make it look like you’re really putting effort into it. You can’t just be lackadaisical about it! The people who are paying to see you aren’t stupid so they’ll pick up on that right away. In order to make them believe, YOU have to believe. You have to get into character. BE the character. Embrace who you want to be in that ring. They’ll never take you seriously if you’re just acting. It’s more than that.

The young man shakes his head as he and the other wrestler continue to work on their moves. The young man named Adam tries the suplex again, this time making it look much better.

Hadrian: THAT right there? That’s what I’m talking about. You see how you did that? You got into it. You made me believe that you’re trying to take this guy out. That’s what the fans want to see. Forget all of this PG bullshit you see on TV right now. People want to be impressed and awed. They want to believe your story from the moment your music hits, to your promos to getting in that ring and attacking your opponent. They don’t want you to sit there and just prance around trying to look good. You have to give them the whole package. Great Job! Jason, you’re doing a great job selling so let’s try it with you now. Go on the defensive and show me how you’re going to make the crowd root for you to come back.

As Hadrian continues to talk, the phone rings. It’s none other than John Gambino also known as Bigg Rigg who has been one of Hadrian’s closest friends for the last ten years.

Hadrian: Hey guys, keep working and Scott will take over for me, I need to take this call. What’s up Rigg?

Rigg: How you doin brother?

Hadrian: Just trying to get these guys to focus man. What’s going on?

Rigg: Nothing much. I just wanted to wish you good luck on your match with Gilmour.

They both laugh after a few seconds.

Hadrian: Thanks brother. I needed a good laugh today. Is that really why you called though?

Rigg: I figured you could use a chuckle or two but no, that’s not why I called. Look, I know you’re busy but I was hoping we could get together with the rest of the boys for a few drinks, maybe some food? Laura would love to see you man. It’s been a while.

Hadrian: I know brother. It’s getting harder to find some free time lately. Between us getting back to XWF, the gym and the new cigar shop I’m opening up in October I can’t catch a break. But how about we meet up on Wednesday?

Rigg: Yeah. Wednesday works. Laura and I just need to finish up some family matters but that sounds like a plan.

Hadrian: Ok great. I’ll give you a call before I fly up and once I’m there we can set some time aside to plan for our shot at the tag titles.

Rigg: You know we’re gonna take those titles right?

Hadrian: I think we have a good shot.

Rigg: A good shot? That doesn’t sound like the Famine I know.

Hadrian: I know. I just don’t want to get cocky and make a mistake. We need to bring our hundred percent focus and just lay these guys out but I don’t want to just be like “we’re gonna walk out of there as champs” that’s how guys lose. Been there and done that.

Rigg: I got you brother. Listen, I know you’re busy so I’ll let you go but I’ll see you Wednesday.

Hadrian: You got it my friend. Talk to you soon.

Hadrian hangs up the phone and then heads to his office. He takes a seat and just stares at his computer monitor. He then goes to the XWF website and begins watching Peter Gilmour’s promo as our scene fades to black.

Hours later……

The gym is now closed and it’s close to 11pm. Hadrian has called his camera guy to come down and help him record his promo.

Carlos: Did you really want to do this here? I thought you’d want to travel somewhere dark and mysterious like we’ve done in the past?

Hadrian: After watching how sad his promo was? I’m not going to fly anywhere and waste money for a promo on a guy who couldn’t walk half a mile in my boots. This’ll be fine. Just let me know when you’re rolling.

Carlos: You got it.

Hadrian gets into position in front of the camera while the green screen shows a gateway to the pit of hell.

Carlos: Ok. Rolling in 3….2….1!

Back at it Again – The Trash Talk Portion

It’s been a while since I did one of these so where do I start? How about we just get right down to business?

Peter, Peter, Peter. Have you ever heard the phrase don’t wake a sleeping giant? Of course you haven’t what am I thinking? You can barely read let alone think which is why all you did was run your mouth in your latest promo. While you’re admiring your mansion and cars and trying to be a big shot, all I’ve been doing is training and focusing. Not on you of course. No, no Gilmour. I’ve been focusing on the path that lies ahead and you’re nothing more than a speed bump on that path. I’ll get through you with ease and go on to be who I’ve always been. The fucking Demon King!

You see Gilmour, in my entire career I’ve seen dozens upon dozens of guys like you come and go. You have no substance, no gravitas Peter. You’re a joke. You walk around claiming the boys in the back hate you, that the fans love you and yet here you still are, years after I retired and you’ve accomplished absolutely nothing. What have you done to stand out Peter? Copied other superstars? Tried to revamp yourself as some bad-ass ladies’ man who can take out any man he wishes? That’s not you Peter. You know it, I know it and the entire wrestling world knows it. You’re a wanna-be who’s never been and never gonna be. So why don’t we just cut the shit and show the world you’re all talk? I’m about to expose you for the liar you are and when I do, what will you do next Petey? Run with your tail tucked between your legs back to your mansion?

You see Peter, the reason I have and always will be better than you is because you don’t have an understanding of how serious this is. You think I’m Chris’ lackey? That I “suck his dick”? This is why you’re an idiot Pete. You don’t know me like you think you do. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me because if you did? You’d know that the man deep down inside of this exterior is a dark, twisted and evil motherfucker who will damn near kill you if given the chance.

See Peter, I learned something about myself a few nights ago. I sat back while having a La Palina No. 1 and some Woodford Reserve and I got to thinking. Who am I? That is a question I haven’t asked myself in a very, very long time. It took me a while to think back on my life and look at everything that’s happened and you know what happened? I found myself Pete. I found out that deep down inside, I can snap at any given moment if and when I’m pushed too far. Just because over these last few years I’ve toned down my persona and focused on life outside of the wrestling business doesn’t mean that I won’t hesitate to throw you off a fucking rooftop or crack your skull with a chair. The demon is still very much a part of me because it never left.

You push too far and you’re going to wake him up. When that happens I hope you have the balls to stand toe to toe with me and show me you’re not afraid. But you and I both know you are. This whole tough rich guy attitude is fooling no one and the more you push, the more dangerous this game becomes Petey boy. At Leap of Faith you’re going to stand in that ring and you’re going to see that you don’t have, never had and will NEVER have a chance in hell of stopping or beating me. You’re not at a level where you can stand against the Demon King and put him in a “body bag” as you said in your promo because it doesn’t matter how many years have gone by. I’ve gotten stronger, faster and better than I ever was. Just because I’ve been away doesn’t mean I ever really left.

And I’m not even going to get into that old game of what list I’m on, what I’ve done in my career and blah, blah, blah. I was crushing skulls and ending careers long before you made your stain in the business. I’ve wrestled and beaten some of the best wrestlers the XWF has ever had and you think you’re going to make a name for yourself by beating me? I don’t think anyone, not even you actually believes that’s going to happen. So instead of bragging about what you have, where you’ve been and who loves or hates you, why don’t you focus on the problem at hand? ME! Because you’ve spent an awful lot of time focusing on Chris Page when you should have been addressing me the entire time. Yet here you are obsessed with Chris and what he has done like a fangirl going on Facebook to swoon over whatever the fuck the latest boy band is.

Let me say one more thing about this whole Chris Page thing before I finish. You said that Chris has us doing his dirty work for him. That he’s not man enough to take you on so he sent me instead. Let’s be clear on one thing Pete; I am no one’s lackey or errand boy. Chris, myself, Rigg, Slater and the rest of the crew are working together for a common goal and what we do? We do as a cohesive unit. No one tells any of us what to do and you know what? It gave me great joy to beat the shit out of you when I did and to be honest, I thought that it would cause you to run away and not show up at Leap of Faith but here you are, running your mouth like you have a chance in hell of stopping me. I find it cute actually so I’ll give you some credit there. You took your beating like a man. But you don’t understand the art of war so it doesn’t matter if you come to the ring with guns blazing and an arsenal at your disposal because it won’t help you. Not one bit!

You see Petey, all warfare is based on deception and you’ve been deceived since the moment we came back. You saw one thing while we focused and planned on another. We made you go left when you should have really gone right and in the end, your demise will be because of you. You never saw it coming and at Leap of Faith you’ll finally understand that no matter how many years go by or what you accomplish in your pathetic life, you will NEVER beat me!]]>