<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - "C*nt Fest" RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Wed, 03 Jun 2026 04:09:38 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Super Spunkface!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=35986 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 23:58:54 -0800 Scully]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=35986 7th of January 2020
Hall of Tards
Miami, Florida

Since it was revealed on the news report on the 5th of January that Jack Campbell was missing, Natalie had been frequently questioning Scully's involvement. She wondered whether Scully was responsible for the disappearance of Jack Campbell. After all Jack is the man who had caused a car crash whilst being intoxicated in July 2018 and put Scully on the shelf, whilst also killing the cab driver, Kyle. Jack had been missing since the early hours of the 1st of January 2020, and Skull had received a number of phone calls from Jack's father, Jeffrey. He kept asking what Scully wanted but Scully denied he had Jack at his disposal. Skull told Jeffrey he wishes it was him but it wasn't! It certainly wasn't over between Jeffrey Campbell and Scully. But was Scully telling the truth?

Scully hadn't been to the Hall of Tards for a while. Curtista and Alfie had been taking it in turns to do the sessions and have fun with lots of different activities with members of Scully's Flock of Tards. Skull decided it was a good idea to just pop his head in... Scully pulled up outside the Hall of Tards, parking his car in his own, designated space. He switches the ignition off and exits the vehicle. He then enters the huge double doors, proceeding to walk down the hall way and then opens the door to the hall. Skull is greeted by Tom, Lenny, Charlotte and Ruby. They stopped colouring in, and all got up from the table to all give him a huge cuddle.

"Hello everyone, missed me then?!"

Skull smiles as the Flock smile. The Flock go back to the table to continuing colouring their pictures. Scully then greets his best mate, Curtista who was running today's session.

Curtista:"Remembered where it is then?!"

"Very funny!"

Scully looks around and asks the question, "So where's Sloth? He still not been in?"

Curtista:"Nope. He hasn't been in. We've tried calling him again and again. No answer. Luckily we have that seven seater to pick them up, seeing as Sloth has the bus!"[/green]

Scully wonders for a while before turning his attention to the Flock, "Have any of you guys seen Daniel?"

The sadness appears on the Flocks faces as they shook their heads. Daniel aka Sloth was like their big brother. Skull turns back to Curtista.

"I'm going to have to get his address. I'll go in to the office and I'll have a look at his paperwork. I'm a bit worried. Concerned."

Curtista::"You don't think he has anything to with the disappearance of that asshole, Jack do you?"

"I'm thinking that way... Yes. I'll go and sort this out."

Curtista nods and the two shake hands before Skull goes to find what he's looking for...



"Let's just get into this thing, The Calvary, I heard what you had to say and you don't half speak some drivel. Most of your first promo you decided to try and educate the XWF morons.. I mean, Galaxy about Destiny and Lady Fuck me sideways.... Blah, blah and more blah. Thank you for that! I thought listening to Noah aka Sheila Jackson overusing the word, 'Cunt!' was boring but you certainly knew how to beat his record for saying the same thing, over and over. And over again.

Lady Luck gave you this? Lady Luck gave you that? Lady Luck is a twat! Fuck Lady Luck, fuck! Lady Destiny is a Slut! Don't come preaching to me with all that bollocks pal. Here it is, served on a silver platter; Destiny isn't a lady. I am your fuckin' Destiny, you speedo wearing, nerd! Yeah you heard me, and at Cunt Fest, your fate rests in my hands. You're about to suffer your first defeat and you can thank Destiny for that!

Listen rookie, I appreciate your concern about my downward spiral since tasting success, but you obviously don't pay attention like you make out, do you? Just recently, at the last Saturday Night Savage, I won the XWF Television Championship not once but twice.. I don't have it now, I mean by the end of the match, with just thirty seconds to go.. You know how quick thirty seconds is don't you? I mean you do suffer from premature ejaculation or so I heard! Think Batman told me. But anyway as I was saying, I tasted a little bit of success then and I will again. I'm sure of it. Call this the 'Resurrection of Scully!' No I didn't say erection, you sick freak!

Let me give you some more information. Did you know I was the actual sidekick of a real superhero? And he wasn't a fake piece of shit like you?! I bet you didn't know that did you? But Guppy Parsh was way better than you! Just like I am, of course, better than you! Guppy, one of the most underrated competitors in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. I miss that guy. Me and him fought real villains, they were murderers/rapists/kidnappers/burglars, proper pieces of shit. Together we fought them hard, beat them at will and on top of that, we climbed the XWF Tag-Team division, rapidly. We entered a Tag-Team tournament to decide number one contenders for the XWF tag titles. We beat them all, but unfortunately we slipped at the final hurdle against the tag champs. People don't know this but the last time I saw Guppy, he had helped me save my Natalie from some shitbags. In the process, Guppy fell off a cliff with our main nemesis. They both fell off. I looked down afterwards but I couldn't see him, he was gone! I seen Charles Elton's lifeless body but Guppy? Nope. I was at the time, a bit like you are now, and I even thought about jumping off. I didn't though. I got scared. I keep thinking he may return one day, enter the ring and Team 2.0 can kick ass once again! So I'm dedicating this ass kicking on a fake bitch like you, Calvary to.... Guppy Parsh! Not in memory as I believe somewhere he is still alive and one day he'll return. So just because I can, this is for you, Guppy Parsh!

At least Guppy wore a decent costume, you're running around in tights and fuckin' y-fronts. Even my little man, Aston doesn't wear briefs any more. He wears boxer shorts, cuz he ain't a bitch like you! I offered to buy him a Superman costume, he wasn't interested. His words were, "Daddy, I ain't wearing that... I'm a big boy!" Had to get him an Incredible Hulk costume instead. He had the little mask, green body costume with the ripped shorts. Ya know what else? When I told him who I was facing next, as in you, obviously... He got his Superman figure and pulled it's head off before throwing in the drain, in the back garden. At first I was gonna tell him off for being a disrespectful little shit, but then I thought, that's my boy. Even he owned you!

Some more information for you; I am not Griffin McAllister, I am not Barney Green, I am SCULLY and this will be your toughest match to date. Mark my words... There's no shame in losing your first match to me, then you can fuck off back to that shit show, Anarchy! Anyway....."

Suddenly the door bursts open of the room that Scully is in. Skull turns towards the door to see who it is... It's a member of his Flock of Tards and one half of the XWF Dumb and Dumber Tag-Team Champions, Lenny. Lenny runs around making buzzing noises, his right arm stretched out, pointing towards his front, his fist clenched as he pretends to fly around the room. Scully can't help but laugh out loud. More so at the attire, Lenny is wearing. He is wearing a plain, blue, long sleeved T-shirt, with an 'L' on the front. Lenny has red bed sheet, which has been cut shorter and triangle shapes cut from the bottom. It's wrapped around him like a cape with 'L' on the back. The funniest bit of it all is that Lenny's ball bag is hanging from the red briefs he's wearing. Lenny stops, dead in his tracks and right in front of Scully. He places his hands on his hips.

Lenny:"Don u warrie Scall, I willy beat dat impasta for u. U stay-e at ome, I'll go ta Coon festifull..."

Skull interrupts Lenny....

"Not Coon, Lenny. It's Cunt, mate!"

Lenny:"Awwwww u swared!"

"You really need to get changed mate. Your ball bag is hanging out of them briefs."

Lenny:"Butt I wan ta be a supaero!"

"Get changed and we'll go and buy you one. We'll get Aston another one too, yeah?"

Lenny:"Ok... Wee-kid!"

Lenny hugs Scully in excitement before running off. Skull looks back into the camera.

"At Cunt-Fest, your amazing two win streak comes to an abrupt end.. Two whole wins? Woah! HAHAHHAHA. Destiny awaits you, Calvary! I will be waiting!

Da, End Scully Has Spoken!"]]> 7th of January 2020
Hall of Tards
Miami, Florida

Since it was revealed on the news report on the 5th of January that Jack Campbell was missing, Natalie had been frequently questioning Scully's involvement. She wondered whether Scully was responsible for the disappearance of Jack Campbell. After all Jack is the man who had caused a car crash whilst being intoxicated in July 2018 and put Scully on the shelf, whilst also killing the cab driver, Kyle. Jack had been missing since the early hours of the 1st of January 2020, and Skull had received a number of phone calls from Jack's father, Jeffrey. He kept asking what Scully wanted but Scully denied he had Jack at his disposal. Skull told Jeffrey he wishes it was him but it wasn't! It certainly wasn't over between Jeffrey Campbell and Scully. But was Scully telling the truth?

Scully hadn't been to the Hall of Tards for a while. Curtista and Alfie had been taking it in turns to do the sessions and have fun with lots of different activities with members of Scully's Flock of Tards. Skull decided it was a good idea to just pop his head in... Scully pulled up outside the Hall of Tards, parking his car in his own, designated space. He switches the ignition off and exits the vehicle. He then enters the huge double doors, proceeding to walk down the hall way and then opens the door to the hall. Skull is greeted by Tom, Lenny, Charlotte and Ruby. They stopped colouring in, and all got up from the table to all give him a huge cuddle.

"Hello everyone, missed me then?!"

Skull smiles as the Flock smile. The Flock go back to the table to continuing colouring their pictures. Scully then greets his best mate, Curtista who was running today's session.

Curtista:"Remembered where it is then?!"

"Very funny!"

Scully looks around and asks the question, "So where's Sloth? He still not been in?"

Curtista:"Nope. He hasn't been in. We've tried calling him again and again. No answer. Luckily we have that seven seater to pick them up, seeing as Sloth has the bus!"[/green]

Scully wonders for a while before turning his attention to the Flock, "Have any of you guys seen Daniel?"

The sadness appears on the Flocks faces as they shook their heads. Daniel aka Sloth was like their big brother. Skull turns back to Curtista.

"I'm going to have to get his address. I'll go in to the office and I'll have a look at his paperwork. I'm a bit worried. Concerned."

Curtista::"You don't think he has anything to with the disappearance of that asshole, Jack do you?"

"I'm thinking that way... Yes. I'll go and sort this out."

Curtista nods and the two shake hands before Skull goes to find what he's looking for...



"Let's just get into this thing, The Calvary, I heard what you had to say and you don't half speak some drivel. Most of your first promo you decided to try and educate the XWF morons.. I mean, Galaxy about Destiny and Lady Fuck me sideways.... Blah, blah and more blah. Thank you for that! I thought listening to Noah aka Sheila Jackson overusing the word, 'Cunt!' was boring but you certainly knew how to beat his record for saying the same thing, over and over. And over again.

Lady Luck gave you this? Lady Luck gave you that? Lady Luck is a twat! Fuck Lady Luck, fuck! Lady Destiny is a Slut! Don't come preaching to me with all that bollocks pal. Here it is, served on a silver platter; Destiny isn't a lady. I am your fuckin' Destiny, you speedo wearing, nerd! Yeah you heard me, and at Cunt Fest, your fate rests in my hands. You're about to suffer your first defeat and you can thank Destiny for that!

Listen rookie, I appreciate your concern about my downward spiral since tasting success, but you obviously don't pay attention like you make out, do you? Just recently, at the last Saturday Night Savage, I won the XWF Television Championship not once but twice.. I don't have it now, I mean by the end of the match, with just thirty seconds to go.. You know how quick thirty seconds is don't you? I mean you do suffer from premature ejaculation or so I heard! Think Batman told me. But anyway as I was saying, I tasted a little bit of success then and I will again. I'm sure of it. Call this the 'Resurrection of Scully!' No I didn't say erection, you sick freak!

Let me give you some more information. Did you know I was the actual sidekick of a real superhero? And he wasn't a fake piece of shit like you?! I bet you didn't know that did you? But Guppy Parsh was way better than you! Just like I am, of course, better than you! Guppy, one of the most underrated competitors in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. I miss that guy. Me and him fought real villains, they were murderers/rapists/kidnappers/burglars, proper pieces of shit. Together we fought them hard, beat them at will and on top of that, we climbed the XWF Tag-Team division, rapidly. We entered a Tag-Team tournament to decide number one contenders for the XWF tag titles. We beat them all, but unfortunately we slipped at the final hurdle against the tag champs. People don't know this but the last time I saw Guppy, he had helped me save my Natalie from some shitbags. In the process, Guppy fell off a cliff with our main nemesis. They both fell off. I looked down afterwards but I couldn't see him, he was gone! I seen Charles Elton's lifeless body but Guppy? Nope. I was at the time, a bit like you are now, and I even thought about jumping off. I didn't though. I got scared. I keep thinking he may return one day, enter the ring and Team 2.0 can kick ass once again! So I'm dedicating this ass kicking on a fake bitch like you, Calvary to.... Guppy Parsh! Not in memory as I believe somewhere he is still alive and one day he'll return. So just because I can, this is for you, Guppy Parsh!

At least Guppy wore a decent costume, you're running around in tights and fuckin' y-fronts. Even my little man, Aston doesn't wear briefs any more. He wears boxer shorts, cuz he ain't a bitch like you! I offered to buy him a Superman costume, he wasn't interested. His words were, "Daddy, I ain't wearing that... I'm a big boy!" Had to get him an Incredible Hulk costume instead. He had the little mask, green body costume with the ripped shorts. Ya know what else? When I told him who I was facing next, as in you, obviously... He got his Superman figure and pulled it's head off before throwing in the drain, in the back garden. At first I was gonna tell him off for being a disrespectful little shit, but then I thought, that's my boy. Even he owned you!

Some more information for you; I am not Griffin McAllister, I am not Barney Green, I am SCULLY and this will be your toughest match to date. Mark my words... There's no shame in losing your first match to me, then you can fuck off back to that shit show, Anarchy! Anyway....."

Suddenly the door bursts open of the room that Scully is in. Skull turns towards the door to see who it is... It's a member of his Flock of Tards and one half of the XWF Dumb and Dumber Tag-Team Champions, Lenny. Lenny runs around making buzzing noises, his right arm stretched out, pointing towards his front, his fist clenched as he pretends to fly around the room. Scully can't help but laugh out loud. More so at the attire, Lenny is wearing. He is wearing a plain, blue, long sleeved T-shirt, with an 'L' on the front. Lenny has red bed sheet, which has been cut shorter and triangle shapes cut from the bottom. It's wrapped around him like a cape with 'L' on the back. The funniest bit of it all is that Lenny's ball bag is hanging from the red briefs he's wearing. Lenny stops, dead in his tracks and right in front of Scully. He places his hands on his hips.

Lenny:"Don u warrie Scall, I willy beat dat impasta for u. U stay-e at ome, I'll go ta Coon festifull..."

Skull interrupts Lenny....

"Not Coon, Lenny. It's Cunt, mate!"

Lenny:"Awwwww u swared!"

"You really need to get changed mate. Your ball bag is hanging out of them briefs."

Lenny:"Butt I wan ta be a supaero!"

"Get changed and we'll go and buy you one. We'll get Aston another one too, yeah?"

Lenny:"Ok... Wee-kid!"

Lenny hugs Scully in excitement before running off. Skull looks back into the camera.

"At Cunt-Fest, your amazing two win streak comes to an abrupt end.. Two whole wins? Woah! HAHAHHAHA. Destiny awaits you, Calvary! I will be waiting!

Da, End Scully Has Spoken!"]]> <![CDATA[Ladies And Gentlemen.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36028 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 23:57:07 -0800 red-x]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36028

Link Rexx... Mad Dog Valley.... and Jess Hart. None of the three have promo'ed in the past couple of weeks, and I'm just now finally shooting mine. Proving just how little this upcoming ppv means to many of us. The name alone is a red alert in and of itself. And while some us have spent this time playing video games and watching porn [myself included >_<] ... Noah and Fuzz, our proud hosts, and holders of two of the most prestigious titles in this company, decided to soup up my opponent in the other, easily more important battle; myself vs a Subaru whatever-the-hell 9000. Now, instead of facing some regular, run-of-the-mill vehicle, I'll be walking into a match that could very well be the end of my XWF career before it even really, truly began.

BTW, Robbie Bourbon, thank u for admiting how great I am-- letting the world know that if you were to try and stand between me and victory, i WILL send u on a month-or-so vay-cay to the nearest hospital. I'm not a newbie, I'm not someone to take lightly, I AM the Next Big Thing, I AM the one man revolution.... I know u all act as if I'm just another scrub under this mask [who in the hot pink HELL is LeStrange, anyway?? o_O ] ...but the truth will blow away each and everyone of you. Change never ends, evolution is constant, and the other three members of this fatal 4-way will soon realize just how hard I'll fight, how deep II'll cut, how fierce my claws will be sharpened, and how true my aim will be when I maim the lot of you.... there is no escaping the red and black attack.

I grew up on the business, every Saturday night I'd sit down and watch as pyro filled the air, superheroes and villains danced with one another in the cover of dazzling lights, a spectacle for the eyes, it was one of the few things that helped me cope with those early years. An abusive dad, a mom that had enough of her husband's anger and decided to leave me alone with him and my babysitter... my childhood was one nightmare after the other. But when the weekend rolled around, my eyes were glued to the set, cheering, roaring, believing that one day, I would become one of the heroes I looked up to so dearly.

XWF... the party has just begun. Deny me, ridicule me, under-estimate my oncoming, but the doubt and dismissal will only fuel me to take that barrage of doubt and use it to bring down the whole goddamned roster. I will take your dismissal, turn it around and spread fear and blood throughout the XWF Galaxy.... The truth behind life, is that you can either cave in, or fight back. And I have fought back since day, fuckin', ONE. Toss aside my arrival.... and u will realize ur mistake.

Link, Mad Dog, Jess?? Ur about to find out just how hard I fight back, as my nails drive into ur flesh, and leave u a broken mess. I may have only just sent out this promo, but atleast it's one more than any of the three of u have issued. I won't say I don't understand, a ppv hosted by a team called the "Sick [redacted] " is bound to be an epic disaster... but I will not take this event lightly. It's my proving ground, my chance to show the world what I'm made of, what I will unleash upon this promotion, spreading terror and pain throughout the land.

#the_end_is_near

|cut|
#iAm_ur_end]]>

Link Rexx... Mad Dog Valley.... and Jess Hart. None of the three have promo'ed in the past couple of weeks, and I'm just now finally shooting mine. Proving just how little this upcoming ppv means to many of us. The name alone is a red alert in and of itself. And while some us have spent this time playing video games and watching porn [myself included >_<] ... Noah and Fuzz, our proud hosts, and holders of two of the most prestigious titles in this company, decided to soup up my opponent in the other, easily more important battle; myself vs a Subaru whatever-the-hell 9000. Now, instead of facing some regular, run-of-the-mill vehicle, I'll be walking into a match that could very well be the end of my XWF career before it even really, truly began.

BTW, Robbie Bourbon, thank u for admiting how great I am-- letting the world know that if you were to try and stand between me and victory, i WILL send u on a month-or-so vay-cay to the nearest hospital. I'm not a newbie, I'm not someone to take lightly, I AM the Next Big Thing, I AM the one man revolution.... I know u all act as if I'm just another scrub under this mask [who in the hot pink HELL is LeStrange, anyway?? o_O ] ...but the truth will blow away each and everyone of you. Change never ends, evolution is constant, and the other three members of this fatal 4-way will soon realize just how hard I'll fight, how deep II'll cut, how fierce my claws will be sharpened, and how true my aim will be when I maim the lot of you.... there is no escaping the red and black attack.

I grew up on the business, every Saturday night I'd sit down and watch as pyro filled the air, superheroes and villains danced with one another in the cover of dazzling lights, a spectacle for the eyes, it was one of the few things that helped me cope with those early years. An abusive dad, a mom that had enough of her husband's anger and decided to leave me alone with him and my babysitter... my childhood was one nightmare after the other. But when the weekend rolled around, my eyes were glued to the set, cheering, roaring, believing that one day, I would become one of the heroes I looked up to so dearly.

XWF... the party has just begun. Deny me, ridicule me, under-estimate my oncoming, but the doubt and dismissal will only fuel me to take that barrage of doubt and use it to bring down the whole goddamned roster. I will take your dismissal, turn it around and spread fear and blood throughout the XWF Galaxy.... The truth behind life, is that you can either cave in, or fight back. And I have fought back since day, fuckin', ONE. Toss aside my arrival.... and u will realize ur mistake.

Link, Mad Dog, Jess?? Ur about to find out just how hard I fight back, as my nails drive into ur flesh, and leave u a broken mess. I may have only just sent out this promo, but atleast it's one more than any of the three of u have issued. I won't say I don't understand, a ppv hosted by a team called the "Sick [redacted] " is bound to be an epic disaster... but I will not take this event lightly. It's my proving ground, my chance to show the world what I'm made of, what I will unleash upon this promotion, spreading terror and pain throughout the land.

#the_end_is_near

|cut|
#iAm_ur_end]]> <![CDATA[It's Been Fun]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36027 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 23:56:22 -0800 Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36027

The forces of D.R.A.M.A. have been pinpointed by Robbie Bourbon, somewhere in Ontario.

We catch up with Robbie there.

IT'S BEEN FUN

Somewhere, deep within the nefarious stronghold that houses D.R.A.M.A., short for Demagogues Rectifying Angsty Misanthropic Action, a counsil sits in a war room. Monitors adorn the walls, showing maps, projections, and other what-have-you that makes the room look even more war roomy. A lengthy table sits in the center of the room, and at it's head, we see an elderly woman. Along the table, a menagerie of unsavory looking characters are seen, like a dude with an eye patch, a dude with robot parts on his face, a person with two heads, one male, one female, a lizard person, a guy in a helmet, the whole shebang.

All looks promising, ladies and gentlemen. The people are wrapped up in more drama now than ever. Worry is at an all time high, from the environment, to politics, to nuclear war, everybody on earth has a concern!

The table all murmers their assent, the mission of D.R.A.M.A. seeming to be going well. With that, there's a knock at the door. The whole counsil stops and looks to the elderly woman. She looks back at them inquizitively.

Were any of you...

There's a knock at the door again. She stops, spins her chair to face it, and calls towards the closed door.

Who is it?

I got a delivery here.

A familiar voice is heard from behind the door. It would seem Robbie Bourbon, instead of tearing down D.R.A.M.A. headquarters brick by brick, became a delivery man.

A what? This is preposterous!

The door is kicked open, and the whole of the war room looks up in awe at Robbie. Robbie is holding a basket for some reason. His mask is tattered, his nose bleeding, his wrestling gear near shredded from the battle he had with whatever defenses he had to breach to get here. The basket, however, looks pristine.

'Sup, fools.

Robbie calmly walks towards the table, wiping blood from his face, and gently lays the basket on the table. The whole of the counsil looks terrified. Here, after all, was Robbie Bourbon, the Wednesday Night Wrecker, the man they've been trying to stymie for the better part of a month by targetting him in promos, and he wasn't even bothering to beat the hell out of them.

Ah, Mr. Bourbon, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.

Really? Is it really all that pleasant for you?

No, I was being facetious.

That's not very dramatic, but it's what that doofus Engineer keeps doing.

The rooms looks among each other.

Who?

Engineer!?

Robbie puts his hands on his hips, flustered after the realization this wasn't Shane 's evil underground organization and looks at the elderly woman and the whole room, who all react to the name as though it's an alien farting disco records.

We don't know who that is.

Shit...

Robbie's shoulders slump.

You mean that Engineer doesn't work for your organization to spread drama? He literally just hooked up with a kid, yoinked him out of the closet, then spent a long time brutally mutilating the kid's dad before personally flying the old man out to Australia to set him on fire in the site of the bush fires.

Our budget doesn't allow for that.

Really? I mean, I figured just to heighten drama you would spend whatever it cost to surgically mutilate a guy then personally fly him to Australia to set them on fire on in the wilds someplace.

Nope, we'd just shoot him.

Huh.

Yeah, anticlimactically, for shock value.

Huh.

Well...

Yeah...

The old woman rolls her eyes.

Speaking of budget, how many of our deathbots did you just wreck on your way in here?

The counsil leans in closely to hear more from Robbie.

All of them.

What! We had seventy of them, they weren't cheap!

Yeah, well, they kept showing up in my promos and stuff, threatening people whenever I was trying to have a little fun, they fucked up my camp in Australia, why were you doing all that bullshit anyway?

The counsil all looks around at each other, specifically looking for the member of the counsil named 'Not Me'. The elderly woman looks at Robbie.

We needed to demonstrate to the world that being fun and fancy free accomplishes nothing! Your means, your desires, they are a poor reference for the people of the world, which needs stress, and complications to advance itself.

Not true. Look at Star Trek.

What?

Star Trek, you silly old bat. A nerd made a show about submarine warfare based in space, idealizing humanity, and it inspired people to actually make shit from the show. Automatic doors, which, by the way, I totally trashed a bunch of your doors too, but automatic sliding doors weren't a thing until some dork looked at the screen and thought 'huh, those would be cool'. Now you see them at every grocery store. Communicators? Shit, everybody in this room is either an Android or iPhone user. Touch screen computers, hell to an extent even Bluetooth headsets are a take on the press button thingies from Star Trek, and all those advancements from a show about a guy being coy, banging green chicks, time travel, goofy aliens, terrible grappling...

We get your point. Star Trek wasn't a comedy though.

Yeah, but it wasn't super dramatic either. Sure, some of the movies went that way, but what did that get us? Star Trek IV. Is that what you're going for here, huh? Do you want me to go back in time to get you some fucking whales? Because I will damn sure find a way to go back in time to...

No, and stop repeating stuff.

Okay. Puddin' did it but didn't get why it was good to do anyway?

Who's Puddin'?

Nevermind.

The elderly woman drums her fingers on the table.

So, you have broken into our lair, destroyed all our D.R.A.M.A. deathbots, what do you intend to do next, Mr. Bourbon?

Oh, that's easy.

Robbie opens the basket, and a cadre of puppies all climb out. Clumsily, they meander around the table as the entire counsil seems to melt. A puppy roams over to the old woman and lays on it's back in front of her, baying it's tiny little puppy bays.

Adorable!

I know! Look, how about instead of spreading D.R.A.M.A., and pushing your agenda, just go pet a puppy instead.

The counsil all looks at each other and nods in approval.

Oh, Robbie, thank you!

It was easy. Just relax, take a breath, and act. Sweating and fretting gets you nowhere.

Oh, he's going to do the thing.

The counsil, in between bouts of giving love to puppies, listens in on the Sultan of Smacktalk.

Puddin', you're really getting defensive. Smoke and mirrors are great and all up until the source of that smoke, that heat, that flame, the fire itself is on you, and the mirrors melt away, and you burn. Deflect all you want, but in the end, the fire wins.

Hi, I'm the fire. Not the thing you did to Malcome's dad, not the horrific disaster in Australia, I am the fire you gotta fight come Sunday night.

Jesus Christ on a pogo-stick, you talk about what it takes to be champion, but the only thing relevant that's going on here is me. Not whatever you've been doing in your goofy ass promos, which could have been sold to the USA Network, or maybe TruTV as a drama miniseries if it wasn't just so fucking bland. Flavorless. Tasteless, sure, but no more so than myself. I admit, I am a hypocrite, glad you noticed, but hey, it's sort of why they call me the High Holy Hypocrite. Shit, no wonder you think I'm so self referencial, because while I am, I'm just really, really good at it and have a bajillion nicknames.

Because you can say of me whatever you wish, Puddin'. What's going to go down at CuntFest, and what the fuck, Puddin', we're not even the main fucking event, what kind of bullshit Universal Champion does that? SO, what's going to happen at CuntFest has nothing, absolutely nothing, with about ninety percent of your fucking promos. Nada. It's all irrelevant hogwash, what you do to Malcome, Malcome's dad, Malcome's auntie, Malcome's grandpappy, Malcome's fourth grade teacher Mrs. Heath, or Malcome's unused pile of Arby's coupons doesn't matter in the least when it comes to you defending the Universal Title. The only thing, the ONLY thing relevant in your promos?

Say my name again, motherfucker!

All I've done is me, not try to force some dichotomy, exploit how different I am from you, or bare some silly metaphor as to who and what I am all about and why I need to be different from you. Fuck, that was evident from the get go, Puddin', thing of it is, the Last Outlaw runs as hard as he needs, as far as he wants, and and as deep as the world will let him.

Ooh, I love that nickname, the Last Outlaw!

Robbie gives a thumbs up to the adorable little old lady petting a puppy then addresses the camera again.

Puddin', hypocrisy is civilization's greatest virtue. You call me a hypocrite as if it's even a bad thing. I tell people not to do unhealthy shit, then I go eat bacon. I tell people that they should do something fun like paint, but I hate to paint. I tell people things to make them feel better, and not to be paltry, or avoid socially awkward situations, but because healing someone, not completely ripping their whole life apart to make them a henchmen but really healing someone makes it better for the next person they have to encounter. The next person they dislike, they love, and anything in between, their whole life changes when you interact with them because they will carry something away from you.

I brought puppies, if you hadn't noticed.

You just brainwashed some kid, exploited his shitty relationship with his pops, told me that you can't solve anything with one button press when you had Trump by the bowling balls and didn't go push the ONE BUTTON he has that would literally do what you claim you wish would happen, total human extinction, a nuclear apocalypse, but absolutely didn't because the greatest force on earth was really just whimsy, in this case bagging Melinia Trump. Odd, odd choice. Like, she's pretty hot, but definitely not even top ten. You did it to be silly, fun, and fancy free.

You dropped the drama because, well, you wanted to play with Robbie Bourbon.

And you dropped Lux because nobody wanted to play with her.

And nobody would have ever played with Corey.

Robbie drops the mic and leaves this D.R.A.M.A. behind him.]]>

The forces of D.R.A.M.A. have been pinpointed by Robbie Bourbon, somewhere in Ontario.

We catch up with Robbie there.

IT'S BEEN FUN

Somewhere, deep within the nefarious stronghold that houses D.R.A.M.A., short for Demagogues Rectifying Angsty Misanthropic Action, a counsil sits in a war room. Monitors adorn the walls, showing maps, projections, and other what-have-you that makes the room look even more war roomy. A lengthy table sits in the center of the room, and at it's head, we see an elderly woman. Along the table, a menagerie of unsavory looking characters are seen, like a dude with an eye patch, a dude with robot parts on his face, a person with two heads, one male, one female, a lizard person, a guy in a helmet, the whole shebang.

All looks promising, ladies and gentlemen. The people are wrapped up in more drama now than ever. Worry is at an all time high, from the environment, to politics, to nuclear war, everybody on earth has a concern!

The table all murmers their assent, the mission of D.R.A.M.A. seeming to be going well. With that, there's a knock at the door. The whole counsil stops and looks to the elderly woman. She looks back at them inquizitively.

Were any of you...

There's a knock at the door again. She stops, spins her chair to face it, and calls towards the closed door.

Who is it?

I got a delivery here.

A familiar voice is heard from behind the door. It would seem Robbie Bourbon, instead of tearing down D.R.A.M.A. headquarters brick by brick, became a delivery man.

A what? This is preposterous!

The door is kicked open, and the whole of the war room looks up in awe at Robbie. Robbie is holding a basket for some reason. His mask is tattered, his nose bleeding, his wrestling gear near shredded from the battle he had with whatever defenses he had to breach to get here. The basket, however, looks pristine.

'Sup, fools.

Robbie calmly walks towards the table, wiping blood from his face, and gently lays the basket on the table. The whole of the counsil looks terrified. Here, after all, was Robbie Bourbon, the Wednesday Night Wrecker, the man they've been trying to stymie for the better part of a month by targetting him in promos, and he wasn't even bothering to beat the hell out of them.

Ah, Mr. Bourbon, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.

Really? Is it really all that pleasant for you?

No, I was being facetious.

That's not very dramatic, but it's what that doofus Engineer keeps doing.

The rooms looks among each other.

Who?

Engineer!?

Robbie puts his hands on his hips, flustered after the realization this wasn't Shane 's evil underground organization and looks at the elderly woman and the whole room, who all react to the name as though it's an alien farting disco records.

We don't know who that is.

Shit...

Robbie's shoulders slump.

You mean that Engineer doesn't work for your organization to spread drama? He literally just hooked up with a kid, yoinked him out of the closet, then spent a long time brutally mutilating the kid's dad before personally flying the old man out to Australia to set him on fire in the site of the bush fires.

Our budget doesn't allow for that.

Really? I mean, I figured just to heighten drama you would spend whatever it cost to surgically mutilate a guy then personally fly him to Australia to set them on fire on in the wilds someplace.

Nope, we'd just shoot him.

Huh.

Yeah, anticlimactically, for shock value.

Huh.

Well...

Yeah...

The old woman rolls her eyes.

Speaking of budget, how many of our deathbots did you just wreck on your way in here?

The counsil leans in closely to hear more from Robbie.

All of them.

What! We had seventy of them, they weren't cheap!

Yeah, well, they kept showing up in my promos and stuff, threatening people whenever I was trying to have a little fun, they fucked up my camp in Australia, why were you doing all that bullshit anyway?

The counsil all looks around at each other, specifically looking for the member of the counsil named 'Not Me'. The elderly woman looks at Robbie.

We needed to demonstrate to the world that being fun and fancy free accomplishes nothing! Your means, your desires, they are a poor reference for the people of the world, which needs stress, and complications to advance itself.

Not true. Look at Star Trek.

What?

Star Trek, you silly old bat. A nerd made a show about submarine warfare based in space, idealizing humanity, and it inspired people to actually make shit from the show. Automatic doors, which, by the way, I totally trashed a bunch of your doors too, but automatic sliding doors weren't a thing until some dork looked at the screen and thought 'huh, those would be cool'. Now you see them at every grocery store. Communicators? Shit, everybody in this room is either an Android or iPhone user. Touch screen computers, hell to an extent even Bluetooth headsets are a take on the press button thingies from Star Trek, and all those advancements from a show about a guy being coy, banging green chicks, time travel, goofy aliens, terrible grappling...

We get your point. Star Trek wasn't a comedy though.

Yeah, but it wasn't super dramatic either. Sure, some of the movies went that way, but what did that get us? Star Trek IV. Is that what you're going for here, huh? Do you want me to go back in time to get you some fucking whales? Because I will damn sure find a way to go back in time to...

No, and stop repeating stuff.

Okay. Puddin' did it but didn't get why it was good to do anyway?

Who's Puddin'?

Nevermind.

The elderly woman drums her fingers on the table.

So, you have broken into our lair, destroyed all our D.R.A.M.A. deathbots, what do you intend to do next, Mr. Bourbon?

Oh, that's easy.

Robbie opens the basket, and a cadre of puppies all climb out. Clumsily, they meander around the table as the entire counsil seems to melt. A puppy roams over to the old woman and lays on it's back in front of her, baying it's tiny little puppy bays.

Adorable!

I know! Look, how about instead of spreading D.R.A.M.A., and pushing your agenda, just go pet a puppy instead.

The counsil all looks at each other and nods in approval.

Oh, Robbie, thank you!

It was easy. Just relax, take a breath, and act. Sweating and fretting gets you nowhere.

Oh, he's going to do the thing.

The counsil, in between bouts of giving love to puppies, listens in on the Sultan of Smacktalk.

Puddin', you're really getting defensive. Smoke and mirrors are great and all up until the source of that smoke, that heat, that flame, the fire itself is on you, and the mirrors melt away, and you burn. Deflect all you want, but in the end, the fire wins.

Hi, I'm the fire. Not the thing you did to Malcome's dad, not the horrific disaster in Australia, I am the fire you gotta fight come Sunday night.

Jesus Christ on a pogo-stick, you talk about what it takes to be champion, but the only thing relevant that's going on here is me. Not whatever you've been doing in your goofy ass promos, which could have been sold to the USA Network, or maybe TruTV as a drama miniseries if it wasn't just so fucking bland. Flavorless. Tasteless, sure, but no more so than myself. I admit, I am a hypocrite, glad you noticed, but hey, it's sort of why they call me the High Holy Hypocrite. Shit, no wonder you think I'm so self referencial, because while I am, I'm just really, really good at it and have a bajillion nicknames.

Because you can say of me whatever you wish, Puddin'. What's going to go down at CuntFest, and what the fuck, Puddin', we're not even the main fucking event, what kind of bullshit Universal Champion does that? SO, what's going to happen at CuntFest has nothing, absolutely nothing, with about ninety percent of your fucking promos. Nada. It's all irrelevant hogwash, what you do to Malcome, Malcome's dad, Malcome's auntie, Malcome's grandpappy, Malcome's fourth grade teacher Mrs. Heath, or Malcome's unused pile of Arby's coupons doesn't matter in the least when it comes to you defending the Universal Title. The only thing, the ONLY thing relevant in your promos?

Say my name again, motherfucker!

All I've done is me, not try to force some dichotomy, exploit how different I am from you, or bare some silly metaphor as to who and what I am all about and why I need to be different from you. Fuck, that was evident from the get go, Puddin', thing of it is, the Last Outlaw runs as hard as he needs, as far as he wants, and and as deep as the world will let him.

Ooh, I love that nickname, the Last Outlaw!

Robbie gives a thumbs up to the adorable little old lady petting a puppy then addresses the camera again.

Puddin', hypocrisy is civilization's greatest virtue. You call me a hypocrite as if it's even a bad thing. I tell people not to do unhealthy shit, then I go eat bacon. I tell people that they should do something fun like paint, but I hate to paint. I tell people things to make them feel better, and not to be paltry, or avoid socially awkward situations, but because healing someone, not completely ripping their whole life apart to make them a henchmen but really healing someone makes it better for the next person they have to encounter. The next person they dislike, they love, and anything in between, their whole life changes when you interact with them because they will carry something away from you.

I brought puppies, if you hadn't noticed.

You just brainwashed some kid, exploited his shitty relationship with his pops, told me that you can't solve anything with one button press when you had Trump by the bowling balls and didn't go push the ONE BUTTON he has that would literally do what you claim you wish would happen, total human extinction, a nuclear apocalypse, but absolutely didn't because the greatest force on earth was really just whimsy, in this case bagging Melinia Trump. Odd, odd choice. Like, she's pretty hot, but definitely not even top ten. You did it to be silly, fun, and fancy free.

You dropped the drama because, well, you wanted to play with Robbie Bourbon.

And you dropped Lux because nobody wanted to play with her.

And nobody would have ever played with Corey.

Robbie drops the mic and leaves this D.R.A.M.A. behind him.]]> <![CDATA[The Story of Lies and Inflection]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36026 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 23:51:25 -0800 Calvary]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36026

The mission was set.

The two young men were set to free their fellow empowered brethren given strict orders from their commander, Inf. Cal Vari and Vic Tori were set to engage the enemy and bring them in for justice. Yet something just felt off for Cal. He stands outside his transportation vehicle with his arms folded and a puzzled expression.

“Why does this feel… too easy, Vic?”

Vic pauses and looks at him from the front of the plane where he had been fueling up.

“What?”

“Why does this feel too easy?”

Vic cleans up his hands from the grease upon them before throwing the towel away as he walks up to Cal Vari.

“It’s not too easy, Cal. We still have to infiltrate their fortress and find a way to get more information on their captures. I wouldn’t exactly call that easy without a morph in our group.”

“No, with Inf.”

Vic sighs and walks over to pick up the towel.

“Inf was basically ready to burn you alive, and you think that he was being nice?”

“How many times have I walked out of his office with scorch marks? How many times has our superior used his full fire on me as a living punching bag?”

Vic nods and begins counting on his fingers before laughing.

“Too many times for sure.”

“Exactly, but this time all he could muster was a little smoke despite us going against orders?’

“He’s just proud of us, Cal.”

“Why are you being so dense, Vic?”

Vic stops and takes a step back as if upset that he’d been insulted.

“I apologize, but you know as well as I do that his flames are tied to his emotions. Whether he’s jubilant or enraged, his flames are tied directly to his emotions. When he came back to the office after his daughter’s birth, he could barely contain himself and nearly burned the entire building to the ground. Yet when he met with us, he seemed… contained.”

“You’re looking very deeply into this, Cal.”

“And for someone who enjoys mysterious and conspiracy theories, you’re very uninterested in this.”

The two stop and stare at one another for a tense second before Cal’s eyes turn back towards the Divine Headquarters as his arms unfold and fall to his side. He begins to walk towards the building.

“Cal! Aren’t the lives of our fellow people in jeopardy by you going to chase your own tail?!”

Cal isn’t listening to him as he pushes forward until he feels invisible tentacles wrap themselves around him as his body comes to a halt. He tries to push forward only to be stopped. He knows this feeling as he turns around to see the sharp-edged and demonic appearance of his friend, Vic Tori who has reverted to his altered form to stop Cal.

Cal clears his throat as he speaks through a muffled tone.

“Didn’t I tell you that I could break out of this if I wanted to?”

Cal Vari’s body begins to tense as his entire form bulks up before a loud cracking sound is heard.

A burst of energy erupts from around Cal as Vic falls to the ground and Cal seems to have regained control of his movement. His eyes flash fury at Vic before he approaches him. He grabs him by his throat and lifts him up off the ground. He backs him towards the ship and slams him against the side of the vessel with his feet dangling.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Vic Tori, and you better tell me the truth. Our friendship hinges upon this.”

Vic nods as much as he can while being held by his throat.

“Why are you trying to stop me? Why is Inf acting so peculiar? Why is it so imperative I go on this trip, NOW?!”

Vic motions towards the hand wrapped around his throat as Cal drops him to the ground. Vic breathes out raspy before looking up at Cal.

“You’re under investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For acts committed against The Divines by your father.”

Cal freezes for a moment. His father, Cal Med, was a mediator and peace advocate who disagreed with Cal on many different levels. Yet his father was known widely as being the best at keeping tensions at ease and getting different sides of the equation to come to an agreement. Despite all of this, his father disappeared two years ago on mission. Many believed him to be KIA yet no body was ever discovered.

“What does my father have to do with me? He’s been dead for years.”

Vic sighs as he rubs his throat.

“What aren’t you telling me, Vic?”

“Your father isn’t dead.”

Cal looks down at him with disgust.

“This better be some version of a sick joke. My father was vaporized on the moon of Malashar attempting to communicate with the inhabitants there. He was shot down in cold blood after one of our other superiors gave a distasteful remark to one of their leaders. We destroyed their whole moon as a counter-measure. Now you’re telling me that he survived the entire MOON being destroyed?”

Vic nods.

“But I wasn’t supposed to tell you this.”

“Then why are you, Vic?”

Vic rises to his feet as his hand caresses his throat.

“I… we’re friends, Cal. I value our relationship more than any ties I have to them. While we’re away on this trip, your desk, your computer, your files are being filtered through for pertinent information to your father’s whereabouts.”

“That’s a violation of the Privacy Coalition. No search can be done without express permission from the Divine Sovereign. And an unalerted search can’t be committed unless the threat is seen as one internal. Why do they want my father so badly?”

Vic’s eyes avert from Cal, but Cal snaps his fingers to focus him up.

“Don’t look away from me, Vic. If we’re truly friends, then you can talk candidly to me.”

“Your father is responsible for the moon of Malashar and an entire group of people. All I know is that the stories of his death have been… altered.”

“My father is an enemy?”

“I don’t know, Cal. All I know is that The Divines want him, and they need to search through your belongings to absolve you of it.”

Cal looks towards the Divine Headquarters once more with a sigh. He leans back against the body of the ship beside Vic and folds his arms over his chest as he’s lost in thought.

“So what do you think we should do, Vic?”

“We need to go on the mission and free our people. They need our help more than you need to be up there. Once we’re done, we’ll return and see what is going on.”

“Fine. Thank you, Vic.”

Cal extends his forearm which Vic smashes his own against as the two head into the ship. Vic resumes his seat at the front of the ship as Cal sits beside him in a somber state as he pulls a small badge of some sort from his pocket and begins to fiddle with it absent-mindedly as he stares ahead.

The badge reads Superior Cal Med.



Today…




“How nice to make your acquaintance, Scully.”

“It’s been far too long that I’ve dealt with those who have earned positions high above their true level of competency. Destiny basically bent over backwards to allow you a place at the table of immortality by allowing you the saddest of championship runs of all time. You may have defeated the man who runs the company, but you’re far from a man truly superior to him or any other.”

“You’re a charity case picked up by Destiny and chosen for greater things. I may have sugar-coated things for you when I first spoke of you, but your very actions have dictated that I handle you not with kid gloves.”

“Not man-gloves either, mind you. Somewhere in between where the doctors have to prevent you from licking too much precipitation off the windows of the small bus you ride.”

“The oldest comparison I’ve seen is attacking my name, a literal combination of my family and identifier name. It would be like trying to figure out the reason your mother and the dingo she fornicated with decided ‘Mike’ would be an accurate identifier for you. Can you imagine running through life with perhaps the most uninspiring name in the entire world… universe? It all makes sense why you denounced that name upon entering the XWF and donning the ever clever last name instead. Luckily for you, it was your dingo father who barked out the name Mike instead of the first word out of your mother’s mouth.”

“ .”

“A proper response it would have been upon seeing your face and watching you grow up. Imagine seeing the thing that exited your womb learn how to walk at the ripe age of manhood and discover his appendage in the same month. Barely able to walk, little Scully running through the halls of his school clutching his little member as the ladies cry and cover their eyes.

“Imagine being the mother that had to go to that school and have that conversation with the teacher who found you two inches deep in a locker because it ‘felt good.’”

“I have the utmost respect for your mother and any mother who can stand to raise a child as misfortunate as you. All of that hard work to watch you grow up to be nothing more than a parody of a person created within the shell of what seems to be considered normal.”

“My name originates from my birth the same as yours. My father, Cal Med, was a brilliant person able to alter the moods of others which worked well in his negotiations which he worked for The Divines. But now we can hopefully settle the issue of having a name that has some semblance to some historical, religious significance to you and your ilk.”

“But your ilk can’t possibly comprehend that. They can’t understand the reason why I landed here. Why I came to this planet. Why I came to the XWF. Why wrestling? Why is it I’m set across the ring from you, Scully?”

“It’s Destiny.”

“The very person you ignore while looking away when my music hits. The very person that allowed you to gain a title of such renown. You ignore her existence while she drives the wheel of your life from the womb to your grave. You try to grab control of the steering wheel only to be shoved back in your seat and told to enjoy the ride. It’s something that we must all accept, and it’s something that we must all recognize.”

“Destiny drives us and we must accept the destination as a fact of life.”

“It wasn’t until recently that my ride took me to the home of one, Mike Scully. At this special event, you won’t be just stepping into another match with a bell to signal the beginning and the end. You’re stepping into a war zone with a man powerful enough to snap you enough yet passionate enough to let you enjoy walking as much as you have from age sixteen.”

“It’s true that the XWF will never be the same after my emergence, but this has nothing to do with you Scully. Once more, someone feels as if their presence in my way is significant when it’s simply a stepping off point. My boot may touch your head as I climb over you, but you’re no more a threat than a gnat is to a human. With one hand, I will swat you away and keep on towards my path of righteousness.

“My path of redemption.”

“Whether you believe in my feats of strength or that I’ve wrestled with gods much more awe-inspiring than you, you will realize the foolishness of your actions when you step into the ring. I don’t just practice lifting trees; I master it. I don’t just practice destroying my enemies; I ensure their demise. M words are not to be taken lightly, and you’ll feel the full weight of them when I deliver my first strike.”

“When it was first announced that we were set across from one another, I saw it as another opening. It’s another opportunity for me to show my strength, determination, and fire to the world. It’s an opportunity to inspire the world at your expense. I said let the better man win, but consider that me practicing words of empowerment.”

“I want you at your best, Scully, just as Destiny would have it.”

“There’s nothing to be learned when you halfway attempt something and come up short.”

“But if you go all-in and leave everything in the ring and come up short, then life becomes a learning lesson. You learn either to adapt or evolve. Whether your breed believes in its existence or not, evolution has been studied since long before you existed and its proof will continue to be felt throughout the cosmos.”

“We meet in Australia home of the biggest cleanings that nature has to offer with a wildfire spreading across the entirety of the continent offering no reprieve from the insanity of the fire’s power. It’s on this barren wasteland that we will be sparring with the backdrop of Destiny’s rage spreading across the lands. Let me ask you something, Scully, do you think it’s a coincidence that it’s new meeting old in a place where the old is being burned away while the new takes over with a new plot of land?”

“Even the lands of the world are foreshadowing your retirement coming at the hand of one of the newest members of the roster.”

“Destiny has foretold your fall from fate, and I’m here to be her executioner.”

“This is Da End, but you will not be speaking when I am finished with you.”

“Destiny’s favor is over, and I’m going to put you where you belong.”

“Back in the archives with the rest of the dinosaurs.”
]]>

The mission was set.

The two young men were set to free their fellow empowered brethren given strict orders from their commander, Inf. Cal Vari and Vic Tori were set to engage the enemy and bring them in for justice. Yet something just felt off for Cal. He stands outside his transportation vehicle with his arms folded and a puzzled expression.

“Why does this feel… too easy, Vic?”

Vic pauses and looks at him from the front of the plane where he had been fueling up.

“What?”

“Why does this feel too easy?”

Vic cleans up his hands from the grease upon them before throwing the towel away as he walks up to Cal Vari.

“It’s not too easy, Cal. We still have to infiltrate their fortress and find a way to get more information on their captures. I wouldn’t exactly call that easy without a morph in our group.”

“No, with Inf.”

Vic sighs and walks over to pick up the towel.

“Inf was basically ready to burn you alive, and you think that he was being nice?”

“How many times have I walked out of his office with scorch marks? How many times has our superior used his full fire on me as a living punching bag?”

Vic nods and begins counting on his fingers before laughing.

“Too many times for sure.”

“Exactly, but this time all he could muster was a little smoke despite us going against orders?’

“He’s just proud of us, Cal.”

“Why are you being so dense, Vic?”

Vic stops and takes a step back as if upset that he’d been insulted.

“I apologize, but you know as well as I do that his flames are tied to his emotions. Whether he’s jubilant or enraged, his flames are tied directly to his emotions. When he came back to the office after his daughter’s birth, he could barely contain himself and nearly burned the entire building to the ground. Yet when he met with us, he seemed… contained.”

“You’re looking very deeply into this, Cal.”

“And for someone who enjoys mysterious and conspiracy theories, you’re very uninterested in this.”

The two stop and stare at one another for a tense second before Cal’s eyes turn back towards the Divine Headquarters as his arms unfold and fall to his side. He begins to walk towards the building.

“Cal! Aren’t the lives of our fellow people in jeopardy by you going to chase your own tail?!”

Cal isn’t listening to him as he pushes forward until he feels invisible tentacles wrap themselves around him as his body comes to a halt. He tries to push forward only to be stopped. He knows this feeling as he turns around to see the sharp-edged and demonic appearance of his friend, Vic Tori who has reverted to his altered form to stop Cal.

Cal clears his throat as he speaks through a muffled tone.

“Didn’t I tell you that I could break out of this if I wanted to?”

Cal Vari’s body begins to tense as his entire form bulks up before a loud cracking sound is heard.

A burst of energy erupts from around Cal as Vic falls to the ground and Cal seems to have regained control of his movement. His eyes flash fury at Vic before he approaches him. He grabs him by his throat and lifts him up off the ground. He backs him towards the ship and slams him against the side of the vessel with his feet dangling.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Vic Tori, and you better tell me the truth. Our friendship hinges upon this.”

Vic nods as much as he can while being held by his throat.

“Why are you trying to stop me? Why is Inf acting so peculiar? Why is it so imperative I go on this trip, NOW?!”

Vic motions towards the hand wrapped around his throat as Cal drops him to the ground. Vic breathes out raspy before looking up at Cal.

“You’re under investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For acts committed against The Divines by your father.”

Cal freezes for a moment. His father, Cal Med, was a mediator and peace advocate who disagreed with Cal on many different levels. Yet his father was known widely as being the best at keeping tensions at ease and getting different sides of the equation to come to an agreement. Despite all of this, his father disappeared two years ago on mission. Many believed him to be KIA yet no body was ever discovered.

“What does my father have to do with me? He’s been dead for years.”

Vic sighs as he rubs his throat.

“What aren’t you telling me, Vic?”

“Your father isn’t dead.”

Cal looks down at him with disgust.

“This better be some version of a sick joke. My father was vaporized on the moon of Malashar attempting to communicate with the inhabitants there. He was shot down in cold blood after one of our other superiors gave a distasteful remark to one of their leaders. We destroyed their whole moon as a counter-measure. Now you’re telling me that he survived the entire MOON being destroyed?”

Vic nods.

“But I wasn’t supposed to tell you this.”

“Then why are you, Vic?”

Vic rises to his feet as his hand caresses his throat.

“I… we’re friends, Cal. I value our relationship more than any ties I have to them. While we’re away on this trip, your desk, your computer, your files are being filtered through for pertinent information to your father’s whereabouts.”

“That’s a violation of the Privacy Coalition. No search can be done without express permission from the Divine Sovereign. And an unalerted search can’t be committed unless the threat is seen as one internal. Why do they want my father so badly?”

Vic’s eyes avert from Cal, but Cal snaps his fingers to focus him up.

“Don’t look away from me, Vic. If we’re truly friends, then you can talk candidly to me.”

“Your father is responsible for the moon of Malashar and an entire group of people. All I know is that the stories of his death have been… altered.”

“My father is an enemy?”

“I don’t know, Cal. All I know is that The Divines want him, and they need to search through your belongings to absolve you of it.”

Cal looks towards the Divine Headquarters once more with a sigh. He leans back against the body of the ship beside Vic and folds his arms over his chest as he’s lost in thought.

“So what do you think we should do, Vic?”

“We need to go on the mission and free our people. They need our help more than you need to be up there. Once we’re done, we’ll return and see what is going on.”

“Fine. Thank you, Vic.”

Cal extends his forearm which Vic smashes his own against as the two head into the ship. Vic resumes his seat at the front of the ship as Cal sits beside him in a somber state as he pulls a small badge of some sort from his pocket and begins to fiddle with it absent-mindedly as he stares ahead.

The badge reads Superior Cal Med.



Today…




“How nice to make your acquaintance, Scully.”

“It’s been far too long that I’ve dealt with those who have earned positions high above their true level of competency. Destiny basically bent over backwards to allow you a place at the table of immortality by allowing you the saddest of championship runs of all time. You may have defeated the man who runs the company, but you’re far from a man truly superior to him or any other.”

“You’re a charity case picked up by Destiny and chosen for greater things. I may have sugar-coated things for you when I first spoke of you, but your very actions have dictated that I handle you not with kid gloves.”

“Not man-gloves either, mind you. Somewhere in between where the doctors have to prevent you from licking too much precipitation off the windows of the small bus you ride.”

“The oldest comparison I’ve seen is attacking my name, a literal combination of my family and identifier name. It would be like trying to figure out the reason your mother and the dingo she fornicated with decided ‘Mike’ would be an accurate identifier for you. Can you imagine running through life with perhaps the most uninspiring name in the entire world… universe? It all makes sense why you denounced that name upon entering the XWF and donning the ever clever last name instead. Luckily for you, it was your dingo father who barked out the name Mike instead of the first word out of your mother’s mouth.”

“ .”

“A proper response it would have been upon seeing your face and watching you grow up. Imagine seeing the thing that exited your womb learn how to walk at the ripe age of manhood and discover his appendage in the same month. Barely able to walk, little Scully running through the halls of his school clutching his little member as the ladies cry and cover their eyes.

“Imagine being the mother that had to go to that school and have that conversation with the teacher who found you two inches deep in a locker because it ‘felt good.’”

“I have the utmost respect for your mother and any mother who can stand to raise a child as misfortunate as you. All of that hard work to watch you grow up to be nothing more than a parody of a person created within the shell of what seems to be considered normal.”

“My name originates from my birth the same as yours. My father, Cal Med, was a brilliant person able to alter the moods of others which worked well in his negotiations which he worked for The Divines. But now we can hopefully settle the issue of having a name that has some semblance to some historical, religious significance to you and your ilk.”

“But your ilk can’t possibly comprehend that. They can’t understand the reason why I landed here. Why I came to this planet. Why I came to the XWF. Why wrestling? Why is it I’m set across the ring from you, Scully?”

“It’s Destiny.”

“The very person you ignore while looking away when my music hits. The very person that allowed you to gain a title of such renown. You ignore her existence while she drives the wheel of your life from the womb to your grave. You try to grab control of the steering wheel only to be shoved back in your seat and told to enjoy the ride. It’s something that we must all accept, and it’s something that we must all recognize.”

“Destiny drives us and we must accept the destination as a fact of life.”

“It wasn’t until recently that my ride took me to the home of one, Mike Scully. At this special event, you won’t be just stepping into another match with a bell to signal the beginning and the end. You’re stepping into a war zone with a man powerful enough to snap you enough yet passionate enough to let you enjoy walking as much as you have from age sixteen.”

“It’s true that the XWF will never be the same after my emergence, but this has nothing to do with you Scully. Once more, someone feels as if their presence in my way is significant when it’s simply a stepping off point. My boot may touch your head as I climb over you, but you’re no more a threat than a gnat is to a human. With one hand, I will swat you away and keep on towards my path of righteousness.

“My path of redemption.”

“Whether you believe in my feats of strength or that I’ve wrestled with gods much more awe-inspiring than you, you will realize the foolishness of your actions when you step into the ring. I don’t just practice lifting trees; I master it. I don’t just practice destroying my enemies; I ensure their demise. M words are not to be taken lightly, and you’ll feel the full weight of them when I deliver my first strike.”

“When it was first announced that we were set across from one another, I saw it as another opening. It’s another opportunity for me to show my strength, determination, and fire to the world. It’s an opportunity to inspire the world at your expense. I said let the better man win, but consider that me practicing words of empowerment.”

“I want you at your best, Scully, just as Destiny would have it.”

“There’s nothing to be learned when you halfway attempt something and come up short.”

“But if you go all-in and leave everything in the ring and come up short, then life becomes a learning lesson. You learn either to adapt or evolve. Whether your breed believes in its existence or not, evolution has been studied since long before you existed and its proof will continue to be felt throughout the cosmos.”

“We meet in Australia home of the biggest cleanings that nature has to offer with a wildfire spreading across the entirety of the continent offering no reprieve from the insanity of the fire’s power. It’s on this barren wasteland that we will be sparring with the backdrop of Destiny’s rage spreading across the lands. Let me ask you something, Scully, do you think it’s a coincidence that it’s new meeting old in a place where the old is being burned away while the new takes over with a new plot of land?”

“Even the lands of the world are foreshadowing your retirement coming at the hand of one of the newest members of the roster.”

“Destiny has foretold your fall from fate, and I’m here to be her executioner.”

“This is Da End, but you will not be speaking when I am finished with you.”

“Destiny’s favor is over, and I’m going to put you where you belong.”

“Back in the archives with the rest of the dinosaurs.”
]]> <![CDATA[Final Seconds]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36025 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 23:48:47 -0800 Carver's Sheath]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36025


OOC: This is an immediate continuation of part 1 of the Shane/Tristan collab, found here: http://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36016



A sudden jolt followed by a loud screech of metal on metal for a few seconds has Shane looking pleased – "Ah, that was quick; sometimes it takes twice as long" says Shane through a haze of Page smoke. Slater seems to object just a tad, with "Quick? A 20-something minute elevator ride is quick? And why did it need to 'stop to refuel' halfway here? And WHY the FUCK are you smoking HAIR!?" – Certainly a valid question as the two of them stand in that smoke filled elevator, don't you think?


"Maybe elevator is the wrong word. Don't fret, though... we just both like smoking CCP in different ways. You literally just said at the end of part 1 of this collaboration promo effort, that you're going to smoke him!" A hint of excitement is starting to pick up in Shane's tone as, "Oh!! That reminds me! Elyon plans to upgrade the technology here at The HOT in mid 2020! I'm told the 20 minute ride we just took will be shortened to about 0 seconds!"


Slater stops and looks Shane in the eyes. "A 20 minute ride shortened to 0 seconds? Come on, Shane. Look..." Tristan stops and ponders things mentally as reality starts to set in. ”This is all bullshit, right? You're fucking with me?" The doors to the elevator slowly pry themselves open as a flood of bright neon blue and green light eagerly invades their space, bringing an entirely new life into what felt like an old prison cell just moments prior. Details on the elevator walls resembling ancient hieroglyphics suddenly become remarkably vibrant as a result of being basked in blankets of neon illumination.


The lights are so powerful they cause Shane and Tristan to hold their hands up in front of their faces at first, despite wearing those stylish black Rayban Predators over their eyes for protection. "Sometimes in this life, my friend, there is more than meets the lens. Sometimes there's room for reality to seep into what we like to call inreality - the state of a conscious being having convinced itself that its limited confinement is, in fact, as grand as our universe's imagination really expands. When you're the subject of INreality, how can reality find its way INto you? Under typical circumstances, you'd be outside of its reach."


"Tristan, I need you to understand that everything you've learned since your childhood all the way up until now has been a byproduct of a fairy tale someone else conjured up aeons ago for the sole purpose of facilitating a platform through which a vast series of limitations and reductions actually resulted in a new way to experience... existence."


What the hell did Shane just say? I hope some of you guys are able to make sense of this better than I can, but then again I'm just an idiot narrator so at least I get a pass.


Shane goes on as Slater crosses his arms and looks a bit perplexed. "For example, even something as simple as having to WONDER what the person standing in front of you is thinking, is an INTENTIONAL limitation that creates avenues for a vast array of passions and arts that may be used to express thyself. Our personal favorite of those arts? War."


"The barriers separating our thoughts are synthetic alterations meant to give us an illusion of independence and a yearning for communication. EVERYTHING we know in this world is in place to counter-act reality by creating the inreal musical we call life. Everything is meant for you to understand, so you never even have a chance at tickling that bone deep inside your loins that would allow you to innerstand." Shane gestures to an imaginary dog on the floor as he singsongs, "You roll over and understand your inreality, while I stand tall and innerstand reality. Good boy!" Shane motions like he's petting the invisible dog.


"Come on, Shane. Things like this usually can be explained as some lame ass gimmick for those that need to add a layer or two because they’re not capable of being professional wrestlers.”


”Ah, but let's flip that script, shall we? Let's shine reality down upon it and all of a sudden what do we see but an excuse? What if all those people who jump at the chance to refer to gimmicks, are just lazy shit heads with absolutely NO clue who their enemy even is?"


"In this example, I'm going to pretend all political struggles and wars are what the media leads you to believe they are. In said storyline, what if the United States had assumed Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden were just weirdos running gimmicks? Could you imagine if that was the president's response? NEVER make the mistake of admitting that you have no clue how to gauge what an unfamiliar force might be capable of. Always accept that there's room for reality, because as alluded to before, not much reality is programmed to be detected within the ambit of default sensory settings."


Hands on his hips, Tristan watches as the neon lights continue seizing throughout the elevator. ”I know I’ve heard some crazy things over the last several weeks… but this is insane… or is it?"


"I think you're starting to get it. I innerstand that it's a lot to swallow right now. You're going to be seeing a lot of things that make you question everything you've ever known, but for now, I want to introduce you to someone very special to me – very special to our entire movement."


"Great. Is this going to be some swamp creature with 3 heads?"


"WHAAAAT??? Why, no... not at all. I'm pretty sure you'll recognize him as being a 'normal human being' just like yourself. Not only is he one of the most brilliant minds to ever grace this planet, but he's also one of the most beloved Twitter users of all time! Some of his tweets are pure gold, my friend."


"Alright? So it's a normal person? I can deal with that." Tristan seems pleased to know he's not going to be projected into some nutbag situation, but instead will be introduced to....................



…...............










…....











….
















ELON MUSK!!!





Shane and Tristan enter a large area that somewhat resembles the bridge of a space craft, but much filthier and smokier. Once again we see unfamiliar technology that seems ancient, yet easily superior to our own.


"Tristan, I'd like you to meet Elyo-" Shane quickly pauses after receiving a warning glance from behind the wall of smoke. "Err uh Elon Musk!"


Elon politely offers whatever he's smoking to Tristan, asking if he'd "Care for some OG CCP?"


"Oh no, not you too. No thanks, I don't smoke HAIR. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance otherwise, sir." Tristan reaches out to shake Elon's hand but Elon tries handing him the blunt, which turns into a very awkward exchange as Slater switches to try and shake the other hand but Musk places the blunt in his other hand first, than back again, etc... Musk doesn't seem to be playing games as this all seems like natural confusion and awkwardness on his part. Must be on some good shit.


As Tristan finally works out how to shake Elon's hand without accepting CCP smoke, we catch a glimpse not to far away of The Engineer with his back to the others, intently watching a display screen that appears to be playing one of Robbie Bourbon's FUN Wrestling. The Engineer half turns his head and asks, "Dad? When are you going to watch more FUN Wrestling with me?"


Tristan is all kinds of WTF? o_O as he overhears their exchange. Shane was quick to respond to The Engineer with a loving, "We'll do that soon. After having to deal with CCP and Main, I'm about due for something fun, son!"


Alright now explain that one? He used to be a she and is also your son??


"Oh," Shane's eyebrows peak, "that's right, you're not in on it. It's just a little something we're doing because Robbie's a ."


"Main?"


"Bourbon."


"Ugh..."


"No shit."


All this time, Elon Musk has been studying Shane and Tristan as if he's enthralled by a Van Gogh masterpiece. His eyes trace the seams of their jackets; the details of their sunglasses; the movement of their lips... To Elon in his stoned trance, they were surely a bewitching sight as they discussed Robbie Bourbon's lack of mental capacity.


"How can I get a hold of Robbie directly?!?" blurts Elon, interrupting Shane and Tristan's small talk about .


Shane's chuckling through his, "What??" and Elon starts to take some deep drags of his hand rolled "chronic" treat, seemingly ignoring Shane altogether now.


"Anyway, what was I saying about Robbie the >


Slater rolls his eyes and throws his hands up with a harsh, "Fuck Bourbon!!!!"


Shane's jaw drops. So does Engineer's! Musk is just not phased.


”Look, talking about all this other happy horse shit is all well and good but now it’s time we address what is actually important and that's Chris Page and Robert Main. I’m not going to have myself dropping a match to those two jack offs because our eyes aren’t on the prize.”


Shane smirks, slowly nodding as he says, "And this is exactly why we're a team – I'm like the plumberchef making sure the toilets don't over flow with shit, totally covered from head to toe with shit. Endless shit. All over me. Shit. Then you're the clean-cut host telling all of our guests what they want to hear before they sit down for dinner, which they have no idea I'm the one preparing in the back. Shit. This is why we'll cover so much ground together and murder so many pieces of shit! Let 'em have it!" Shane has fire and passion in his eyes after describing that scene with such eloquence.


Tristan's eyes momentarily widened as he processed Shane's words. Tristan’s expression changes back to one of seriousness as his attention shifts directly into the camera and he states...


”Chris Page…”


A slick grin graces the face of Slater as he mentions Page’s name. Shane is rubbing his hands together in anticipation for the feast we're about to witness!


"It's MUKBANG time! You guys are FUCKED!"


Slater's concentration never even broke, as he kept his eyes focused right on the camera and proceeded to address CCP with conviction, ”You issued a challenge to me and the first thing I’m going to do is answer it because in your mind you seem to think my lack of response somehow means I’m intimidated by you. Your challenge for a match on Savage has OFFICIALLY been accepted!”


The smirk slips off Tristan’s face as he intently gazes into the camera.


”Chris not only has your challenge been accepted but I’m not even going to make you wait for the stipulation because I’m prepared to name that too! I’ll meet you on the next edition of Savage and I’m going to meet you in a Savage Saturday Night Street Fight! But before we get there we must first get through this Steel Cage affair and I must say I toasted you in my first promo to the point that I don’t have a whole lot to say to you at the moment. I heard ALL of your insults and your entire knock out shots yet here I stand."


"Ego has always been your Achilles Heel and it’s never been more evident than it is right now. You used to boast and brag about being one of the “most watched” superstars on the roster yet it seems lately you’ve become one of the least watched, and do you know why? Because you’re boring as fuck. You do absolutely nothing to separate yourself other than talk shit. You pride yourself on awards you’ve won like the past means a goddamn thing in the present. Unlike Shane or anyone else I’ll give you credit for at one time being a top tier talent within this industry… but this isn’t 2010. You cling to this business because you literally can’t do anything else; everyone sees right through you."


"I will enjoy raking your face across the cold mesh steel."


"I will enjoy busting you wide open and watching you bleed like a stuffed pig."


"I will enjoy giving you a small taste of what lies ahead of you on Savage Saturday Night."


Shane is smacking his lips and licking his fingertips as he interjects, "Best meal I've had in a while. I love shredded CCP. What about Main, though? Is it just me, or does Robert Main have this air about him like he thinks he's in our league? I know it's batshit crazy to even suggest, but it feels like he thinks he's somebody. I mean this fucking told me my unborn kids should be terminated so they don't become 'unscrupulous schmuck sleaze balls just like their bastard father' and man, those are some BIG words — It's like he thinks he carries weight, and I don't see where it's coming from. His threats confuse me, Tristan."


"Oh my God, did you hear how that cock sucker tried to downplay me? Good job on doing EXACTLY what I knew you'd do, Main. Downplay me like I’m nothing when you’re the guy that was content WINNING the belt like a cunt with a briefcase cash in as opposed to winning it straight up, not to mention all of your success comes when your top challengers are Big D or Mastermind, kudos!"


"So please, Robert, continue to downplay me like I haven’t been in the same position as you when it came to carrying this company; I simply did it BEFORE you and did it when the company actually meant something. Keep throwing your nose up in the air pretending that you’re so much better than me when I’ve accomplished what you haven't… GRAND SLAM CHAMPION bitch! Shane knows who I am, Chris knows who I am, and more importantly the rest of the world knows just who the fuck I am… so might I suggest you stop being a lazy little prick and do your fucking homework on just who the hell you’re stepping into the ring with because at this point it’s entirely too late in the ballgame and I’m going to slap you in the face with my dick come Cunt-Fest."


The camera cuts back over to Shane, who is swallowing hard and there's a large visible mass that can be seen slowly creeping down his throat as he does. Tristan's mouth just freezes as he was about to say something else. Shane swallows again, even harder, letting out a satisfied belch and a satisfactory, "Aaaaaah, that hit the spot. Omega is one of my favorite dishes. So good, but SO messy," as he sucks the tips of his fingers clean.


"It's absolutely astonishing on incomprehensible levels just how much better you are than him, Tristan. I mean, you already slaughtered him verbally but it's hard to stop thinking about the way we all saw you:
-WIN the top title fairly
-get cashed in on by Mark Flynn
-WIN IT RIGHT BACK from him...
-get cashed in on by Scorpio later...
-only to WIN IT RIGHT BACK from him too!!!!!"


"Nothing can better illustrate.."

Robert "I use briefcases but can't overcome them" Main
- vs -
Tristan "I never use briefcases and overcome them 100% of the time" Slater

"..than simply looking at their history involving cash ins! HA!"


"Robert, you addlepated scrote – Your entire legacy here when it comes to the top title is that you're the ANTI-Tristan Slater! Everything he did right as the top champ, you've done exactly WRONG! HAHAHAHA!!!"


Slater actually starts laughing too because it's just so true and so sad how unequal he and Main are. They both try to calm down but when you're laughing at the expense of Robert Main, it takes some time..............


Slater then continues with a smirk, "Sorry Robert, sometimes even I forget how bad you really are."


"I’m going to bottom line this here and now when it comes to what the fuck is going to happen when Shane and I enter that Cage to do battle with the two of you. We’re not only going to break your bones; we’re going to break your fucking pride as well. Neither one of you are going to be able to save face when you’re exposed as the overrated has-beens you’ve become. I’m prepared to lose blood; I’m prepared to leave it all inside that ring and I’m prepared for a hospital stay if need be because I’m going to put it all on the line to ensure that the last thing either of you hear the moment that final bell tolls is the ring announcer saying… “The winners of this contest, THE Tristan Slater and Shameless Shane !”


"… and as Chris has said before… "


"That’s not a prediction… that’s a spoiler."


Shane is back to acting like he was eating. He stops and looks like a deer in the headlights when he hears "spoiler" said by Tristan. "Oh. Oh fuck me. They were spoiled?!?!? Shit!" Shane starts gagging and pulling imaginary chunks of food from down inside of his gullet, but him forcing his fingers down makes him really start to gag and he upchucks some frothy pink chunks all over himself. Tristan's eyes are wide as can be as he mouths "holy shit" to himself. Elon Musk tosses Shane an oil stained rag as The Engineer walks toward Shane, swirling what looks to be a sludgy black beverage in a long stemmed wine glass.


Shane eventually just starts laughing heartily, looking at the camera and spitting some pink vomit at it.


The last thing we hear is Elon Musk's voice chiming in suddenly, "Oh, Tristan, I almost forgot! I've got something of yours.." as Shane immediately adds an "Oh yeah! That's right!" before spitting at the camera again, repeatedly, until it finally just cuts out. Apparently we aren't meant to see "it" just yet.

]]>


OOC: This is an immediate continuation of part 1 of the Shane/Tristan collab, found here: http://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36016



A sudden jolt followed by a loud screech of metal on metal for a few seconds has Shane looking pleased – "Ah, that was quick; sometimes it takes twice as long" says Shane through a haze of Page smoke. Slater seems to object just a tad, with "Quick? A 20-something minute elevator ride is quick? And why did it need to 'stop to refuel' halfway here? And WHY the FUCK are you smoking HAIR!?" – Certainly a valid question as the two of them stand in that smoke filled elevator, don't you think?


"Maybe elevator is the wrong word. Don't fret, though... we just both like smoking CCP in different ways. You literally just said at the end of part 1 of this collaboration promo effort, that you're going to smoke him!" A hint of excitement is starting to pick up in Shane's tone as, "Oh!! That reminds me! Elyon plans to upgrade the technology here at The HOT in mid 2020! I'm told the 20 minute ride we just took will be shortened to about 0 seconds!"


Slater stops and looks Shane in the eyes. "A 20 minute ride shortened to 0 seconds? Come on, Shane. Look..." Tristan stops and ponders things mentally as reality starts to set in. ”This is all bullshit, right? You're fucking with me?" The doors to the elevator slowly pry themselves open as a flood of bright neon blue and green light eagerly invades their space, bringing an entirely new life into what felt like an old prison cell just moments prior. Details on the elevator walls resembling ancient hieroglyphics suddenly become remarkably vibrant as a result of being basked in blankets of neon illumination.


The lights are so powerful they cause Shane and Tristan to hold their hands up in front of their faces at first, despite wearing those stylish black Rayban Predators over their eyes for protection. "Sometimes in this life, my friend, there is more than meets the lens. Sometimes there's room for reality to seep into what we like to call inreality - the state of a conscious being having convinced itself that its limited confinement is, in fact, as grand as our universe's imagination really expands. When you're the subject of INreality, how can reality find its way INto you? Under typical circumstances, you'd be outside of its reach."


"Tristan, I need you to understand that everything you've learned since your childhood all the way up until now has been a byproduct of a fairy tale someone else conjured up aeons ago for the sole purpose of facilitating a platform through which a vast series of limitations and reductions actually resulted in a new way to experience... existence."


What the hell did Shane just say? I hope some of you guys are able to make sense of this better than I can, but then again I'm just an idiot narrator so at least I get a pass.


Shane goes on as Slater crosses his arms and looks a bit perplexed. "For example, even something as simple as having to WONDER what the person standing in front of you is thinking, is an INTENTIONAL limitation that creates avenues for a vast array of passions and arts that may be used to express thyself. Our personal favorite of those arts? War."


"The barriers separating our thoughts are synthetic alterations meant to give us an illusion of independence and a yearning for communication. EVERYTHING we know in this world is in place to counter-act reality by creating the inreal musical we call life. Everything is meant for you to understand, so you never even have a chance at tickling that bone deep inside your loins that would allow you to innerstand." Shane gestures to an imaginary dog on the floor as he singsongs, "You roll over and understand your inreality, while I stand tall and innerstand reality. Good boy!" Shane motions like he's petting the invisible dog.


"Come on, Shane. Things like this usually can be explained as some lame ass gimmick for those that need to add a layer or two because they’re not capable of being professional wrestlers.”


”Ah, but let's flip that script, shall we? Let's shine reality down upon it and all of a sudden what do we see but an excuse? What if all those people who jump at the chance to refer to gimmicks, are just lazy shit heads with absolutely NO clue who their enemy even is?"


"In this example, I'm going to pretend all political struggles and wars are what the media leads you to believe they are. In said storyline, what if the United States had assumed Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden were just weirdos running gimmicks? Could you imagine if that was the president's response? NEVER make the mistake of admitting that you have no clue how to gauge what an unfamiliar force might be capable of. Always accept that there's room for reality, because as alluded to before, not much reality is programmed to be detected within the ambit of default sensory settings."


Hands on his hips, Tristan watches as the neon lights continue seizing throughout the elevator. ”I know I’ve heard some crazy things over the last several weeks… but this is insane… or is it?"


"I think you're starting to get it. I innerstand that it's a lot to swallow right now. You're going to be seeing a lot of things that make you question everything you've ever known, but for now, I want to introduce you to someone very special to me – very special to our entire movement."


"Great. Is this going to be some swamp creature with 3 heads?"


"WHAAAAT??? Why, no... not at all. I'm pretty sure you'll recognize him as being a 'normal human being' just like yourself. Not only is he one of the most brilliant minds to ever grace this planet, but he's also one of the most beloved Twitter users of all time! Some of his tweets are pure gold, my friend."


"Alright? So it's a normal person? I can deal with that." Tristan seems pleased to know he's not going to be projected into some nutbag situation, but instead will be introduced to....................



…...............










…....











….
















ELON MUSK!!!





Shane and Tristan enter a large area that somewhat resembles the bridge of a space craft, but much filthier and smokier. Once again we see unfamiliar technology that seems ancient, yet easily superior to our own.


"Tristan, I'd like you to meet Elyo-" Shane quickly pauses after receiving a warning glance from behind the wall of smoke. "Err uh Elon Musk!"


Elon politely offers whatever he's smoking to Tristan, asking if he'd "Care for some OG CCP?"


"Oh no, not you too. No thanks, I don't smoke HAIR. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance otherwise, sir." Tristan reaches out to shake Elon's hand but Elon tries handing him the blunt, which turns into a very awkward exchange as Slater switches to try and shake the other hand but Musk places the blunt in his other hand first, than back again, etc... Musk doesn't seem to be playing games as this all seems like natural confusion and awkwardness on his part. Must be on some good shit.


As Tristan finally works out how to shake Elon's hand without accepting CCP smoke, we catch a glimpse not to far away of The Engineer with his back to the others, intently watching a display screen that appears to be playing one of Robbie Bourbon's FUN Wrestling. The Engineer half turns his head and asks, "Dad? When are you going to watch more FUN Wrestling with me?"


Tristan is all kinds of WTF? o_O as he overhears their exchange. Shane was quick to respond to The Engineer with a loving, "We'll do that soon. After having to deal with CCP and Main, I'm about due for something fun, son!"


Alright now explain that one? He used to be a she and is also your son??


"Oh," Shane's eyebrows peak, "that's right, you're not in on it. It's just a little something we're doing because Robbie's a ."


"Main?"


"Bourbon."


"Ugh..."


"No shit."


All this time, Elon Musk has been studying Shane and Tristan as if he's enthralled by a Van Gogh masterpiece. His eyes trace the seams of their jackets; the details of their sunglasses; the movement of their lips... To Elon in his stoned trance, they were surely a bewitching sight as they discussed Robbie Bourbon's lack of mental capacity.


"How can I get a hold of Robbie directly?!?" blurts Elon, interrupting Shane and Tristan's small talk about .


Shane's chuckling through his, "What??" and Elon starts to take some deep drags of his hand rolled "chronic" treat, seemingly ignoring Shane altogether now.


"Anyway, what was I saying about Robbie the >


Slater rolls his eyes and throws his hands up with a harsh, "Fuck Bourbon!!!!"


Shane's jaw drops. So does Engineer's! Musk is just not phased.


”Look, talking about all this other happy horse shit is all well and good but now it’s time we address what is actually important and that's Chris Page and Robert Main. I’m not going to have myself dropping a match to those two jack offs because our eyes aren’t on the prize.”


Shane smirks, slowly nodding as he says, "And this is exactly why we're a team – I'm like the plumberchef making sure the toilets don't over flow with shit, totally covered from head to toe with shit. Endless shit. All over me. Shit. Then you're the clean-cut host telling all of our guests what they want to hear before they sit down for dinner, which they have no idea I'm the one preparing in the back. Shit. This is why we'll cover so much ground together and murder so many pieces of shit! Let 'em have it!" Shane has fire and passion in his eyes after describing that scene with such eloquence.


Tristan's eyes momentarily widened as he processed Shane's words. Tristan’s expression changes back to one of seriousness as his attention shifts directly into the camera and he states...


”Chris Page…”


A slick grin graces the face of Slater as he mentions Page’s name. Shane is rubbing his hands together in anticipation for the feast we're about to witness!


"It's MUKBANG time! You guys are FUCKED!"


Slater's concentration never even broke, as he kept his eyes focused right on the camera and proceeded to address CCP with conviction, ”You issued a challenge to me and the first thing I’m going to do is answer it because in your mind you seem to think my lack of response somehow means I’m intimidated by you. Your challenge for a match on Savage has OFFICIALLY been accepted!”


The smirk slips off Tristan’s face as he intently gazes into the camera.


”Chris not only has your challenge been accepted but I’m not even going to make you wait for the stipulation because I’m prepared to name that too! I’ll meet you on the next edition of Savage and I’m going to meet you in a Savage Saturday Night Street Fight! But before we get there we must first get through this Steel Cage affair and I must say I toasted you in my first promo to the point that I don’t have a whole lot to say to you at the moment. I heard ALL of your insults and your entire knock out shots yet here I stand."


"Ego has always been your Achilles Heel and it’s never been more evident than it is right now. You used to boast and brag about being one of the “most watched” superstars on the roster yet it seems lately you’ve become one of the least watched, and do you know why? Because you’re boring as fuck. You do absolutely nothing to separate yourself other than talk shit. You pride yourself on awards you’ve won like the past means a goddamn thing in the present. Unlike Shane or anyone else I’ll give you credit for at one time being a top tier talent within this industry… but this isn’t 2010. You cling to this business because you literally can’t do anything else; everyone sees right through you."


"I will enjoy raking your face across the cold mesh steel."


"I will enjoy busting you wide open and watching you bleed like a stuffed pig."


"I will enjoy giving you a small taste of what lies ahead of you on Savage Saturday Night."


Shane is smacking his lips and licking his fingertips as he interjects, "Best meal I've had in a while. I love shredded CCP. What about Main, though? Is it just me, or does Robert Main have this air about him like he thinks he's in our league? I know it's batshit crazy to even suggest, but it feels like he thinks he's somebody. I mean this fucking told me my unborn kids should be terminated so they don't become 'unscrupulous schmuck sleaze balls just like their bastard father' and man, those are some BIG words — It's like he thinks he carries weight, and I don't see where it's coming from. His threats confuse me, Tristan."


"Oh my God, did you hear how that cock sucker tried to downplay me? Good job on doing EXACTLY what I knew you'd do, Main. Downplay me like I’m nothing when you’re the guy that was content WINNING the belt like a cunt with a briefcase cash in as opposed to winning it straight up, not to mention all of your success comes when your top challengers are Big D or Mastermind, kudos!"


"So please, Robert, continue to downplay me like I haven’t been in the same position as you when it came to carrying this company; I simply did it BEFORE you and did it when the company actually meant something. Keep throwing your nose up in the air pretending that you’re so much better than me when I’ve accomplished what you haven't… GRAND SLAM CHAMPION bitch! Shane knows who I am, Chris knows who I am, and more importantly the rest of the world knows just who the fuck I am… so might I suggest you stop being a lazy little prick and do your fucking homework on just who the hell you’re stepping into the ring with because at this point it’s entirely too late in the ballgame and I’m going to slap you in the face with my dick come Cunt-Fest."


The camera cuts back over to Shane, who is swallowing hard and there's a large visible mass that can be seen slowly creeping down his throat as he does. Tristan's mouth just freezes as he was about to say something else. Shane swallows again, even harder, letting out a satisfied belch and a satisfactory, "Aaaaaah, that hit the spot. Omega is one of my favorite dishes. So good, but SO messy," as he sucks the tips of his fingers clean.


"It's absolutely astonishing on incomprehensible levels just how much better you are than him, Tristan. I mean, you already slaughtered him verbally but it's hard to stop thinking about the way we all saw you:
-WIN the top title fairly
-get cashed in on by Mark Flynn
-WIN IT RIGHT BACK from him...
-get cashed in on by Scorpio later...
-only to WIN IT RIGHT BACK from him too!!!!!"


"Nothing can better illustrate.."

Robert "I use briefcases but can't overcome them" Main
- vs -
Tristan "I never use briefcases and overcome them 100% of the time" Slater

"..than simply looking at their history involving cash ins! HA!"


"Robert, you addlepated scrote – Your entire legacy here when it comes to the top title is that you're the ANTI-Tristan Slater! Everything he did right as the top champ, you've done exactly WRONG! HAHAHAHA!!!"


Slater actually starts laughing too because it's just so true and so sad how unequal he and Main are. They both try to calm down but when you're laughing at the expense of Robert Main, it takes some time..............


Slater then continues with a smirk, "Sorry Robert, sometimes even I forget how bad you really are."


"I’m going to bottom line this here and now when it comes to what the fuck is going to happen when Shane and I enter that Cage to do battle with the two of you. We’re not only going to break your bones; we’re going to break your fucking pride as well. Neither one of you are going to be able to save face when you’re exposed as the overrated has-beens you’ve become. I’m prepared to lose blood; I’m prepared to leave it all inside that ring and I’m prepared for a hospital stay if need be because I’m going to put it all on the line to ensure that the last thing either of you hear the moment that final bell tolls is the ring announcer saying… “The winners of this contest, THE Tristan Slater and Shameless Shane !”


"… and as Chris has said before… "


"That’s not a prediction… that’s a spoiler."


Shane is back to acting like he was eating. He stops and looks like a deer in the headlights when he hears "spoiler" said by Tristan. "Oh. Oh fuck me. They were spoiled?!?!? Shit!" Shane starts gagging and pulling imaginary chunks of food from down inside of his gullet, but him forcing his fingers down makes him really start to gag and he upchucks some frothy pink chunks all over himself. Tristan's eyes are wide as can be as he mouths "holy shit" to himself. Elon Musk tosses Shane an oil stained rag as The Engineer walks toward Shane, swirling what looks to be a sludgy black beverage in a long stemmed wine glass.


Shane eventually just starts laughing heartily, looking at the camera and spitting some pink vomit at it.


The last thing we hear is Elon Musk's voice chiming in suddenly, "Oh, Tristan, I almost forgot! I've got something of yours.." as Shane immediately adds an "Oh yeah! That's right!" before spitting at the camera again, repeatedly, until it finally just cuts out. Apparently we aren't meant to see "it" just yet.

]]> <![CDATA[The Trial to Survive]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=35969 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 23:16:09 -0800 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=35969


January 16th, 2020


"When is this guy supposed to be here? I don't have all night!"

Ethan Davis uncomfortably fidgets in the backseat of the taxi he and Dewey Main are in, ignoring the badgering of the cab driver.

"He'll be here."

The cabbie throws a hand up in a bit of aggravation.

"You know, we've waited long enough. I want y'all outta m-"

"There he is!"

Ethan finally relaxes a bit as Ned comes into sight, escaping from the Simmons Bank Arena, dressed as a SWAT officer. Kaye tosses the helmet off to the side, carrying some bags with him as he rushes towards the cab. The driver gets out, shouting towards Ned.

"Look fella, you and your buddies here really have been hogging up my night, so I'm gonna have to ask y'all to get a different driver!"

Ned ignores him somewhat, dropping his bags towards the back of the car. Walking over to the cabbie, he hands him two hundred dollar bills.

"Sorry about the wait. Hopefully this'll cover your wasted time. Can we still get that ride?"

The cabbie looks at the money in awe before walking towards the trunk. He grumbles slightly as he gives his answer.

"...Get in the damn car. Airport, right?"

"Correct."

Ethan gets out of the backseat, letting Ned take the space in-between himself and Dewey. The three sit scrunched in the taxi as the driver renters and starts heading towards the airport. After an extended silence, Kaye speaks up.

"That was crazy enough to work!"

"Don't jinx it, man."

"Well, work up to this point."

"Work's a tricky term," Dewey interjects, "and going to the Clinton Airport is not my idea of a plan going well."

"Look, just relax! This is either gonna end with us in Australia or in federal prison and the least we can do is ride the tide 'till then, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Ned."

Dewey shrugs, pulling a cigar out of his coat. The other passengers don't notice as he brandishes his lighter and lights his cigar, taking a puff before Ned sniffs.

"Is that... are you smoking? In the cab?"

"Fuck off, kid! It's how I relax!"

"You can't smoke in a cab without getting ejected! Put that thing out!"

"He was like this the wholeeee time I had to stay with him..."

"You were no princess, neither! And I didn't sign up for this gig to do some babysitting on the side!"

"I barely spoke to you!"

"Yeah, you barely listened, too!"

Ned raises his voice, visibly baffled.

"Can we stop this?"

"Why we need to stop?"

"Not you! You two! I am dealing with quite a lot right now, guys, and I'd appreciate it if we calmed down for one damn second!"

"Fine."

"As you wish."

Dewey goes to puff on his cigar again when he's met with a glare from Ned. Rolling his eyes, Main puts out the cigar in a small red drink cup he has nearby.

"I'll just smoke when we get on the airplane. Austria, yeah?"

"Australia."

"Don't know why I let you talk me into this, kid. Why the hell are we stepping foot into Australia?"

"Because Fuzz is the big winner and forgot that he was throwing Aussie jokes when it was convenient at Steve Jason. Now, because of his bad taste in tag partners, all of a sudden it's his favorite place."

"You know a lot 'bout this guy, huh?"

Ned shrugs, thinking a bit.

"Well, of course. He's been wrestling a long time and I've even watched some of his matches with Ethan when he was younger."

"How you gonna beat him? Sounds like he's been 'round long enough to expect kids like you."

"Well, I'm gonna have to do it through talent and passion and knowledge. Fuzz isn't the kind to just lay down. But he's kinda like me, y'know? He's had to struggle to survive in this business."

"What kinda struggle? I've seen a lot o' shit, boy, and you go through a surprising amount of it."

"Well... typically he waits or finds some way to mitigate it, but he's struggled."

"Wait, wait. This guy ain't struggling then! I can hardly put up with you, but you face that stuff head on. Sounds like this fella's as soft as his name."

"He's still managed to survive-"

"So fuckin' what? The Queen's managed to survive this long and she hardly lifts her ass. Survival don't mean a damn if you're not fighting for it."

Ned ponders Dewey's words for a moment, realizing the indirect compliment. He smiles slightly.

"Thanks, De-"

"For example, I was a survivor back when I was investing in Banquet meals."

Ethan and Ned begin to groan.

"Everyone else was sleeping on em, but I knew-"

"That the microwave meal bubble was rising-"

"And it wasn't going to burst until they discovered another wave to cook food."

They give Dewey a look as he uncomfortably stares back, turning away after.

"Damn straight."

Ned and Ethan peer through the window, keeping quiet for a bit. The pressure of the past few weeks is still heavy on them, but it's beginning to feel like that weight could be lifted, though they're still uncertain.

"Nate called."

Ned cocks his head to the side, frowning somewhat. He hadn't been able to tell his brother goodbye before he left. Despite their history, Ned did want to persue a stronger connection with his brother. Which was going to be harder now.

"And?"

"Your mom's doing better. Still sore from the fall, but better."

That's when this started, wasn't it? Ned had tried to stream for a day to avoid the stress over worrying over his one remaining parent and it had backfired stupendously. Ned looked upward, wondering if he'd see his mother again. If-

"Hey."

Ethan interrupted the thought.

"It's okay."

Ned hesitated.

"I think you're right."

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



In an unspecified Australian hotel room sits The Notorious One. He has one hand holding a few notebook papers and his other on his chin. His expression is a mixture of disappointment, uncertainty, and a righteous fierceness. Running a finger over a few of the words on the pages in front of him, he eventually just shakes his head and stares upward at the camera.

"You know, Centurion had warned me about Fuzz's ability to trash talk. He made certain to hammer into my head that Fuzz could weave these intricate insults that would demoralize me, so when his promo dropped, I braced myself for impact and I was met with..."

"A synopsis of my XWF career primarily sourced through wikipedia and drunken Noah Jackson texts, a bunch of James Raven and APEX Prophecy anger added for padding, and one of the oldest and laziest cliches in the book of professional wrestling: "I chose you for an easy match." This is what a Champion chose to come at me with. This king of trash talk. This Lethal Lottery winner. This isn't arrogance with low effort, this is what happens when someone tries to eschew any effort at all."

"I had actually written down some topics to cover when I addressed him, but it seems my fans out there preferred it when I got off the cuff and passionate. So, here's what we'll do with these notes."

Ned lifts up the papers and tears them in half, dropping the scraps to the floor.

"I didn't really need them anyway because, unlike Fuzz, I fully understand my opponent. So let's have a glance at his career in all of its grimy glory. This has been a long time coming."

"Now, some people might be thinking that I'm just upset because you're underestimating me. Not quite. I'm appalled because you are the one doing it and you should know better. Let's think of a few names: Ace Vincent, Big Shank, Steve Jason. What do they have in common?"

"They are all huge names that you once had a bone to pick with because they all looked down on you and wrote you off. That thought you wouldn't amount to half of what they were. Big Shank took your help at the 08-08-08 Supershow to fight off Black Order, but he didn't care that it was you. He pocketed your credit with a big, toothy grin and cast you to the side. Ace had so little respect for you that he didn't even bother to record a promo for your match at XX. Yet look at yourself now! You beat Ace with minimal effort! And Shank, a man who thought about as highly of you as he does the dirt that sticks to his shoes, you made eat his words after eleven years of being subjected to his naysaying and dismissal! And then what do you do? You throw those same assessments at me. At that instance is when it clicked for me that your Afterthought persona was truly dead. You didn't care about people overlooking talent, you were just petty about being left out."

"And you were so quick to emulate those who put you down that I wonder if your ego is just getting out of hand or if you were foaming at the mouth for a chance to be in their shoes. I also understand that for a lot of newer XWF fans, this may all sound incredibly unbelievable. That this risen legend wasn't always this mythical figure he markets himself as, but that his persona shifted and changed with time. And if you had done the slightest bit of actual research on me, Shawn, you would've known that I am and have been an XWF fan since I was just a kid in Brooklyn with a dream and few bruises on his chest! You don't even have an actual opinion on me as that would require you to have spent a minimal amount of time learning about my short career in the XWF. Researching the better part of a year isn't too hard compared to the sheer breadth of your time here, but I still possess an aspect you are letting dry out in you by the minute and that's passion. I care about showing up, I put in the time and thought because I want to win and compete while you've let your arrogance consume you to the point where, as a goddamn Champion, you have no desire to fight for a victory and instead opted to just take what you thought was the easy way out! I mean, for God's sake Fuzz, war is in your name and it used to be in your blood! Where did that go?"

Ned's voice gets more intense as he stares into the camera, hands clenched tightly together.

"But I suppose that should be expected, right? You always were a slimy guy when given the chance, so it's only logical that it would adapt with your new reliance on your image. I mean, you win a belt that prides itself on forcing the holder to be ready every minute of every day and what do you do? You build a safe room. A small box to lock yourself in so you don't have to do what's expected of you when you carry the X-Treme title. Paint it as intelligence and careful planning all you'd like and I'll call it for what it is: cowardice. The same fragile egotism that manifested itself years ago when you were faking paralysis for months instead of fighting. And it now takes the form of your avoidance of "The Engineer" and choice of facing me. How does it feel to know that, not only, is someone you're choosing to dismiss so quickly is willing to face someone you're avoiding like the plague because you're scared that they'll rip this indulgent little moment out of your hands. I've already said what my plans for the Universal Title are and, unlike you, I'm not going to jump in after a match for an easy run. On the contrary, I announced my plans well beforehand and everyone here knows I'll be incredibly forthcoming when it comes to the actual match. Is that a result of me getting a big head because Robert Main thinks I'm a star in the making? Is that stupidity on my part or some cosmic miscalculation I made? No. It's because I hold myself like a Champion despite never having been one. When someone beckons me for a match, I ask "where and when?" Meanwhile, you are a Champion and you respect your position and belt about as much as you do me!"

"Hell, let's not leave any of this on the table! You're more than just a Champion right now! You're closest thing to Mr. XWF we have outside of a science fiction wet-dream with a penchant for homicide using the ring name of a dead man! And you're cowering! But what about the last time you were Mr. XWF, back when you owned this company? You had bumped heads with Jonathyn Brown because how he had run the place, however, instead of attempting to change the XWF for the better, you ran it into the dirt. And when you were all done and had ruined whatever good will you had by squandering your ownership, did you own up to it? No! You lurched off into the shadows without so much as an apology and only slithered out to go to WGWF in the hopes that no one would remember your failures. I'd call you a snake, but that would be an insult to one of wrestling's true legends and cold-blooded reptiles everywhere."

"Say what you will about the rough spots I've hit in my time here because even as frustrated as I get at myself, I jumped into the main roster and made everyone know why I got my nickname on the indies. I would've thought that you could respect that, considering you were one of the first people to see James Raven as real talent when he was still on Saturday Night Impact! I suppose your eye for talent has narrowed to yourself and those willing to feed your insatiable ego. Let's be frank here, you wanted to bring up James Raven. You needed to, Shawn, because that's who you've really been fighting this whole time. APEX Prophecy isn't dead, Fuzz, but you desperately need it to be. Because it's Raven's. And somewhere down the line you realized that James will always be respected more than you because he's better. And that shrivels you up inside. I mean, look at you, Shawn. Throwing your own show? Trying to become a king of trash talk? Fuzz, you're not Raven's greatest rival, you're his biggest fan! You can't keep his name out of your damn mouth with how envious you are of him. You want to be James Raven so badly, but you're not. I don't want to be James or Robert or Drew or Centurion or Steve Jason or Shawn Warstein. I am proud to be Ned Kaye. Proud to be the man who could compete against his idol and his father's favorite wrestler-!"

Ned's voice begins to crack, his eyes welling up.

"From back when he was just sitting on the couch with the best father a guy could ever ask for!"

Ned's emotion overcomes him as tears fall down his face, pausing as he places a hand over his mouth.

"E-excuse me..."

Calming himself down and wiping his tears away with a hand, he takes a deep breath and continues.

"Even as highly as I think of James, he did prove my point about how you "legends" view these belts and main event spots. The X-Treme holds this company's name and he was off using it as a foot rest or something and you don't even have enough respect for it to choose opponents you view as worthy. All because you remember it to be one way."

Ned stops, reflecting on his words.

"Memories... are powerful. They can transport you to the lowest and highest moments of your life. And how you confront and live with them shows your character. So, why am I willing to know my past and admit I've had missteps and struggles and you've seperated so much from yours, Fuzz? It's fear. You don't want to be that person again, so you've distanced yourself mentally, but that doesn't change your actions, nor does it redeem them. It's just like the safe room, the wheelchair, or this match. A comfort to make the fear go away for a little without confronting it. And you know the really pathetic thing? I'm scared, too. I'm scared about how people will view me if I lose. I meant every word I said during the stream, I do consider you great. But you're not a myth. Hardly a legend. Regardless of how high up on the ladder you are, you're just a man, scared of uncertainty. That's why I don't believe you have any control in your own destiny. Fear has defined you for decades Fuzz, just looming under all of that ego. And while you're looking down at your fun little party, certain that no one will take you down from the ladder as long as you avoid "The Engineer" long enough to do a cowardly cash-in, I'm climbing. And when you step into that ring, certain of the outcome, doing an Apollo Creed-esque dance, that's when it will sink in. You'll look behind you and see my hand on your ankle. And that's when I will drag you, kicking and screaming, back to Earth, letting you hit every rung on the way down. You don't think I'm good enough to wind you? You're convinced I'm not good enough to take that belt from you or to be on your level? So be it. Think that all you want, Shawn. Think it while the Lacklans are pummeling your sore ass. Think it all day on commentary."

"I know I'm good enough."]]>


January 16th, 2020


"When is this guy supposed to be here? I don't have all night!"

Ethan Davis uncomfortably fidgets in the backseat of the taxi he and Dewey Main are in, ignoring the badgering of the cab driver.

"He'll be here."

The cabbie throws a hand up in a bit of aggravation.

"You know, we've waited long enough. I want y'all outta m-"

"There he is!"

Ethan finally relaxes a bit as Ned comes into sight, escaping from the Simmons Bank Arena, dressed as a SWAT officer. Kaye tosses the helmet off to the side, carrying some bags with him as he rushes towards the cab. The driver gets out, shouting towards Ned.

"Look fella, you and your buddies here really have been hogging up my night, so I'm gonna have to ask y'all to get a different driver!"

Ned ignores him somewhat, dropping his bags towards the back of the car. Walking over to the cabbie, he hands him two hundred dollar bills.

"Sorry about the wait. Hopefully this'll cover your wasted time. Can we still get that ride?"

The cabbie looks at the money in awe before walking towards the trunk. He grumbles slightly as he gives his answer.

"...Get in the damn car. Airport, right?"

"Correct."

Ethan gets out of the backseat, letting Ned take the space in-between himself and Dewey. The three sit scrunched in the taxi as the driver renters and starts heading towards the airport. After an extended silence, Kaye speaks up.

"That was crazy enough to work!"

"Don't jinx it, man."

"Well, work up to this point."

"Work's a tricky term," Dewey interjects, "and going to the Clinton Airport is not my idea of a plan going well."

"Look, just relax! This is either gonna end with us in Australia or in federal prison and the least we can do is ride the tide 'till then, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Ned."

Dewey shrugs, pulling a cigar out of his coat. The other passengers don't notice as he brandishes his lighter and lights his cigar, taking a puff before Ned sniffs.

"Is that... are you smoking? In the cab?"

"Fuck off, kid! It's how I relax!"

"You can't smoke in a cab without getting ejected! Put that thing out!"

"He was like this the wholeeee time I had to stay with him..."

"You were no princess, neither! And I didn't sign up for this gig to do some babysitting on the side!"

"I barely spoke to you!"

"Yeah, you barely listened, too!"

Ned raises his voice, visibly baffled.

"Can we stop this?"

"Why we need to stop?"

"Not you! You two! I am dealing with quite a lot right now, guys, and I'd appreciate it if we calmed down for one damn second!"

"Fine."

"As you wish."

Dewey goes to puff on his cigar again when he's met with a glare from Ned. Rolling his eyes, Main puts out the cigar in a small red drink cup he has nearby.

"I'll just smoke when we get on the airplane. Austria, yeah?"

"Australia."

"Don't know why I let you talk me into this, kid. Why the hell are we stepping foot into Australia?"

"Because Fuzz is the big winner and forgot that he was throwing Aussie jokes when it was convenient at Steve Jason. Now, because of his bad taste in tag partners, all of a sudden it's his favorite place."

"You know a lot 'bout this guy, huh?"

Ned shrugs, thinking a bit.

"Well, of course. He's been wrestling a long time and I've even watched some of his matches with Ethan when he was younger."

"How you gonna beat him? Sounds like he's been 'round long enough to expect kids like you."

"Well, I'm gonna have to do it through talent and passion and knowledge. Fuzz isn't the kind to just lay down. But he's kinda like me, y'know? He's had to struggle to survive in this business."

"What kinda struggle? I've seen a lot o' shit, boy, and you go through a surprising amount of it."

"Well... typically he waits or finds some way to mitigate it, but he's struggled."

"Wait, wait. This guy ain't struggling then! I can hardly put up with you, but you face that stuff head on. Sounds like this fella's as soft as his name."

"He's still managed to survive-"

"So fuckin' what? The Queen's managed to survive this long and she hardly lifts her ass. Survival don't mean a damn if you're not fighting for it."

Ned ponders Dewey's words for a moment, realizing the indirect compliment. He smiles slightly.

"Thanks, De-"

"For example, I was a survivor back when I was investing in Banquet meals."

Ethan and Ned begin to groan.

"Everyone else was sleeping on em, but I knew-"

"That the microwave meal bubble was rising-"

"And it wasn't going to burst until they discovered another wave to cook food."

They give Dewey a look as he uncomfortably stares back, turning away after.

"Damn straight."

Ned and Ethan peer through the window, keeping quiet for a bit. The pressure of the past few weeks is still heavy on them, but it's beginning to feel like that weight could be lifted, though they're still uncertain.

"Nate called."

Ned cocks his head to the side, frowning somewhat. He hadn't been able to tell his brother goodbye before he left. Despite their history, Ned did want to persue a stronger connection with his brother. Which was going to be harder now.

"And?"

"Your mom's doing better. Still sore from the fall, but better."

That's when this started, wasn't it? Ned had tried to stream for a day to avoid the stress over worrying over his one remaining parent and it had backfired stupendously. Ned looked upward, wondering if he'd see his mother again. If-

"Hey."

Ethan interrupted the thought.

"It's okay."

Ned hesitated.

"I think you're right."

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



In an unspecified Australian hotel room sits The Notorious One. He has one hand holding a few notebook papers and his other on his chin. His expression is a mixture of disappointment, uncertainty, and a righteous fierceness. Running a finger over a few of the words on the pages in front of him, he eventually just shakes his head and stares upward at the camera.

"You know, Centurion had warned me about Fuzz's ability to trash talk. He made certain to hammer into my head that Fuzz could weave these intricate insults that would demoralize me, so when his promo dropped, I braced myself for impact and I was met with..."

"A synopsis of my XWF career primarily sourced through wikipedia and drunken Noah Jackson texts, a bunch of James Raven and APEX Prophecy anger added for padding, and one of the oldest and laziest cliches in the book of professional wrestling: "I chose you for an easy match." This is what a Champion chose to come at me with. This king of trash talk. This Lethal Lottery winner. This isn't arrogance with low effort, this is what happens when someone tries to eschew any effort at all."

"I had actually written down some topics to cover when I addressed him, but it seems my fans out there preferred it when I got off the cuff and passionate. So, here's what we'll do with these notes."

Ned lifts up the papers and tears them in half, dropping the scraps to the floor.

"I didn't really need them anyway because, unlike Fuzz, I fully understand my opponent. So let's have a glance at his career in all of its grimy glory. This has been a long time coming."

"Now, some people might be thinking that I'm just upset because you're underestimating me. Not quite. I'm appalled because you are the one doing it and you should know better. Let's think of a few names: Ace Vincent, Big Shank, Steve Jason. What do they have in common?"

"They are all huge names that you once had a bone to pick with because they all looked down on you and wrote you off. That thought you wouldn't amount to half of what they were. Big Shank took your help at the 08-08-08 Supershow to fight off Black Order, but he didn't care that it was you. He pocketed your credit with a big, toothy grin and cast you to the side. Ace had so little respect for you that he didn't even bother to record a promo for your match at XX. Yet look at yourself now! You beat Ace with minimal effort! And Shank, a man who thought about as highly of you as he does the dirt that sticks to his shoes, you made eat his words after eleven years of being subjected to his naysaying and dismissal! And then what do you do? You throw those same assessments at me. At that instance is when it clicked for me that your Afterthought persona was truly dead. You didn't care about people overlooking talent, you were just petty about being left out."

"And you were so quick to emulate those who put you down that I wonder if your ego is just getting out of hand or if you were foaming at the mouth for a chance to be in their shoes. I also understand that for a lot of newer XWF fans, this may all sound incredibly unbelievable. That this risen legend wasn't always this mythical figure he markets himself as, but that his persona shifted and changed with time. And if you had done the slightest bit of actual research on me, Shawn, you would've known that I am and have been an XWF fan since I was just a kid in Brooklyn with a dream and few bruises on his chest! You don't even have an actual opinion on me as that would require you to have spent a minimal amount of time learning about my short career in the XWF. Researching the better part of a year isn't too hard compared to the sheer breadth of your time here, but I still possess an aspect you are letting dry out in you by the minute and that's passion. I care about showing up, I put in the time and thought because I want to win and compete while you've let your arrogance consume you to the point where, as a goddamn Champion, you have no desire to fight for a victory and instead opted to just take what you thought was the easy way out! I mean, for God's sake Fuzz, war is in your name and it used to be in your blood! Where did that go?"

Ned's voice gets more intense as he stares into the camera, hands clenched tightly together.

"But I suppose that should be expected, right? You always were a slimy guy when given the chance, so it's only logical that it would adapt with your new reliance on your image. I mean, you win a belt that prides itself on forcing the holder to be ready every minute of every day and what do you do? You build a safe room. A small box to lock yourself in so you don't have to do what's expected of you when you carry the X-Treme title. Paint it as intelligence and careful planning all you'd like and I'll call it for what it is: cowardice. The same fragile egotism that manifested itself years ago when you were faking paralysis for months instead of fighting. And it now takes the form of your avoidance of "The Engineer" and choice of facing me. How does it feel to know that, not only, is someone you're choosing to dismiss so quickly is willing to face someone you're avoiding like the plague because you're scared that they'll rip this indulgent little moment out of your hands. I've already said what my plans for the Universal Title are and, unlike you, I'm not going to jump in after a match for an easy run. On the contrary, I announced my plans well beforehand and everyone here knows I'll be incredibly forthcoming when it comes to the actual match. Is that a result of me getting a big head because Robert Main thinks I'm a star in the making? Is that stupidity on my part or some cosmic miscalculation I made? No. It's because I hold myself like a Champion despite never having been one. When someone beckons me for a match, I ask "where and when?" Meanwhile, you are a Champion and you respect your position and belt about as much as you do me!"

"Hell, let's not leave any of this on the table! You're more than just a Champion right now! You're closest thing to Mr. XWF we have outside of a science fiction wet-dream with a penchant for homicide using the ring name of a dead man! And you're cowering! But what about the last time you were Mr. XWF, back when you owned this company? You had bumped heads with Jonathyn Brown because how he had run the place, however, instead of attempting to change the XWF for the better, you ran it into the dirt. And when you were all done and had ruined whatever good will you had by squandering your ownership, did you own up to it? No! You lurched off into the shadows without so much as an apology and only slithered out to go to WGWF in the hopes that no one would remember your failures. I'd call you a snake, but that would be an insult to one of wrestling's true legends and cold-blooded reptiles everywhere."

"Say what you will about the rough spots I've hit in my time here because even as frustrated as I get at myself, I jumped into the main roster and made everyone know why I got my nickname on the indies. I would've thought that you could respect that, considering you were one of the first people to see James Raven as real talent when he was still on Saturday Night Impact! I suppose your eye for talent has narrowed to yourself and those willing to feed your insatiable ego. Let's be frank here, you wanted to bring up James Raven. You needed to, Shawn, because that's who you've really been fighting this whole time. APEX Prophecy isn't dead, Fuzz, but you desperately need it to be. Because it's Raven's. And somewhere down the line you realized that James will always be respected more than you because he's better. And that shrivels you up inside. I mean, look at you, Shawn. Throwing your own show? Trying to become a king of trash talk? Fuzz, you're not Raven's greatest rival, you're his biggest fan! You can't keep his name out of your damn mouth with how envious you are of him. You want to be James Raven so badly, but you're not. I don't want to be James or Robert or Drew or Centurion or Steve Jason or Shawn Warstein. I am proud to be Ned Kaye. Proud to be the man who could compete against his idol and his father's favorite wrestler-!"

Ned's voice begins to crack, his eyes welling up.

"From back when he was just sitting on the couch with the best father a guy could ever ask for!"

Ned's emotion overcomes him as tears fall down his face, pausing as he places a hand over his mouth.

"E-excuse me..."

Calming himself down and wiping his tears away with a hand, he takes a deep breath and continues.

"Even as highly as I think of James, he did prove my point about how you "legends" view these belts and main event spots. The X-Treme holds this company's name and he was off using it as a foot rest or something and you don't even have enough respect for it to choose opponents you view as worthy. All because you remember it to be one way."

Ned stops, reflecting on his words.

"Memories... are powerful. They can transport you to the lowest and highest moments of your life. And how you confront and live with them shows your character. So, why am I willing to know my past and admit I've had missteps and struggles and you've seperated so much from yours, Fuzz? It's fear. You don't want to be that person again, so you've distanced yourself mentally, but that doesn't change your actions, nor does it redeem them. It's just like the safe room, the wheelchair, or this match. A comfort to make the fear go away for a little without confronting it. And you know the really pathetic thing? I'm scared, too. I'm scared about how people will view me if I lose. I meant every word I said during the stream, I do consider you great. But you're not a myth. Hardly a legend. Regardless of how high up on the ladder you are, you're just a man, scared of uncertainty. That's why I don't believe you have any control in your own destiny. Fear has defined you for decades Fuzz, just looming under all of that ego. And while you're looking down at your fun little party, certain that no one will take you down from the ladder as long as you avoid "The Engineer" long enough to do a cowardly cash-in, I'm climbing. And when you step into that ring, certain of the outcome, doing an Apollo Creed-esque dance, that's when it will sink in. You'll look behind you and see my hand on your ankle. And that's when I will drag you, kicking and screaming, back to Earth, letting you hit every rung on the way down. You don't think I'm good enough to wind you? You're convinced I'm not good enough to take that belt from you or to be on your level? So be it. Think that all you want, Shawn. Think it while the Lacklans are pummeling your sore ass. Think it all day on commentary."

"I know I'm good enough."]]> <![CDATA[Cactus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36023 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 22:19:50 -0800 Noah Jackson]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36023 Cactus
[Image: wpacdRK.gif]

I wake from a slight power nap, cuddled in between two rock pillows. I take a look at my dead phone dies and peek through the gap watching the sun begin to set, I decide to move on from my safe place from the boulders, it's still burning fucking hot and my throat feels dry. Kill for a VB and a phone charger right now... I scan the horizon which doesn't help at all to where I actually am, at least there are no fucking roos... I walk in a random direction hoping I find the site again.

Least I'll get a gnarly tan. I remove my sweat-stained t-shirt and tuck it partially into my shorts as I sink into the soft sand with each step; I begin to walk towards a dune that looks vaguely familiar; I mean, they all look the fucking same but what other hope have I got. I get to the cunt and place my hands on the burning sand before recoiling immediately from the heat, I gingerly place them down again sucking air through my teeth and crawl my way quickly to the top making an audible 'ow' with every foot I climb. At the peak I shield my eyes from the sun.

Guess what I see.

If you guessed sand and a cactus you'd be dead on, cunt.

I sigh to myself before sitting on my ass and going down the dune like it's the least fun slide in the world. I hit the bottom and hop back up to my feet continuing to walk like a stroppy little cunt.

Hey Fuzz, you won LL, cunt. You get your own pay-per-view, where do you want it? The Bahamas? Dubai? Somewhere with a 5-star hotel and fucking water?

Oh no, you want it in Oz? And you want me to pick the location!? Well, cunt, I fucking love music festivals, how about we have the cunt in the desert like a festival! During a national water shortage and the worst fires we've seen in a lifetime.

Fuck me, I am one smart cunt...

This whole thing is just fucked. This is how I fucking die! Lost in the cunting desert and it's mostly my fault! Won't make it to Cunt-Fest, gonna love my TV Title, lose my chance at the Tag Titles. I wonder what happened if that fucking coin just landed heads... He'd be stuck out here like a cunt and I'd be cursing him like he's cursing me right now. At least I'd have Vita with me... That's fucked now too! FUCKING CUNTS! Fuzz should be out here, he betrayed me! He should be doing everything to make up for that shit but noooooo, I'm a sad prick and couldn't lose him so I forgive the cunt. Rather be in fucking denial... What the fuck is wrong with me? I should have kicked the shit out him, cut ties and peaced out. Moved on to bigger and better things. Look we're following him actually lead me.

Here.

Walking past some prickly cunt in a baron wasteland.

Great life choices, Noah, fucking top notch.

He's gonna fuck me off anyway for not showing up... So then I won't have a fake dad and I won't have a girlfriend thanks to Atara. I'm just gonna be a corpse in the desert with no one around and no one giving a fuck about me. Oh everyone look at Noah, he's all depressed like a little bitch but hides it with humour what an original cunt. I kick in the sand in front of me out of frustration and look around at the nothingness as the sky fills a dull orange; the wind picks up carrying the smell of smoke and I shiver to my core for a breath moment. I stop and even wonder if there's any point continuing on; the last thing I want to care about right now is walking through the desert to see two pissed off cunts who I care about and go into two matches. But that's the only thing I can think of!

And it's driving me insane.

Fucking swimming pool match... Ugh, water sounds so good right now...

And Atara in that water...

[cuntevent][/cuntevent]

And I'm wrestling her as she gets wetter and wetter... Her bikini clinging close to her.

[cuntevent][/cuntevent]

... Man, I'm thirsty.

Pun intended.

I mean I'm basically single now and everyone just assumes we're fucking so what's the harm, right? What have I got to lose?

[cuntevent][/cuntevent]

...

Right...

Fuck... I need to get back to her.


Meanwhile in the main timeline...

[i]Me and Dad are monitoring the situation from the hood of our tricked out Subaru. A bevvie each in hand we look as the main stage is put together and shit looks fucking ripper. Fuzz shakes his head with a slight grin.

FUZZ: "Man, it's finally clicked that it's all together. Just seeing this, kid, it's ours! And it's finally happening."

"Bloody oath, cunt. Feels real now."

FUZZ: "And we'll be walking out of our show with all the gold, life can't get better."

"I'll drink to that."

Me and dad clink our cans together and take a sip each.

FUZZ: "Gotta say, VB is actually growing on me."

"That's my Australian heritage working in on you now that we're actually related."

He narrows his eyes at me.

FUZZ: "Doesn't work that way, son."

"It doesn't? ... Huh." I take another swig before patting the hood of the Subaru. "Can't wait to see this sick cunt trash that rookie."

FUZZ: "Oh yeah, that'll definitely be a highlight."

"And seeing Cent in a dress."

FUZZ: "He's owning that pretty hard though, can I ask why you wanted that?"

"Put him in his place. He thinks it's some humiliation or some shit, like we all saw the cunt dress as Adolf Targaryen a while back so we know he doesn't care about looking like a cunt but it's legit just to remind him I own the cunt. I beat him on my Warfare debut and he still gets salty every time I talk to him, he has never asked for a rematch and has pissed his pants in general at the sight of me. I want him to know, no matter what, he's still my bitch."

FUZZ: "Hm... So you can hold a grudge."

"Only to cunts I don't like, most people get a pass."

Fuzz makes a slight chuckle as we see someone approach.

FUZZ: "Holy shit is that Vita?"

V approaches looking like an Apache attack helicopter wrapped in flesh; fucking built like a brick shithouse.

"Hey babe."

VV: "Hey guys! Not interrupting am I?"

"Course not." I budge up and pat the hood of the car. "Hop on."

V smiles and jumps onto the car beside me and it very visibly dips on her side; She places an arm under my head and I cuddle up to her like she's a pillow made out of grade A steak. Dad looks over his mouth agape.

FUZZ: "Vita what the fuck?"

VV: "What? I got swole."

FUZZ: "I can see that... How so quick?"

VV: "I got these AMAZING protein shakes, I'll hook you up."

FUZZ: "Protein shakes, huh?"

Dad looks down at me. I roll my eyes.

"What Vita does with her body and how she does it I may not agree with but I will support her choice."

FUZZ: "And you're okay with... That?"

Dad points a swirling finger around VV's gains. V side-eyes him a little but stays quiet.

"Yeah, it's sick! Look at her! She's like a rock climbing wall with a pretty face! I'm not some insecure prick who feels like his masculinity is being threatened, I ain't no Gilmour cunt."

Dad gives a slight sigh before shaking his head.

FUZZ: "As long as you're happy?"

VV: "Fuzz, do you have a problem?"

"I- ... No, I'm just being a dad I guess. To be honest everything has been a bit odd as of late."

"Yeah I vibe with that."

VV: "Okay, just wondering."

FUZZ: "Vita, right now you're the person I'd rather not pick a fight with."

Me and V give a short laugh as Fuzz hops off the car.

FUZZ: "I'll leave you kids to it, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He begins to walk as me and V get more comfortable on the hood.

"Later, dad."

VV: "Buh-bye!"

Dad throws his hand back in a wave as me and V look over at the sunset.

VV: "Okay so can we talk about Atara?"

"Jesus, V, nothing's going on!"

VV: "I know that but that cunt is up to something."

"She wants to play mind games by letting some helium loose from her head. She's honestly nothing to spare a thought on, cunt."

VV: "I know but it's just how she is, REALLY annoys me."

"That's how she operates, she doesn't try to break people in the way me and you would attack someone. It's all vague bullshit to raise some kind of self-importance; she's plastic, fake. You can see right through her and immediately tell just how much of a glass house she is. She wants people to say she's some Goddess, she wants people to focus on how she looks so they don't see how little of a threat she is. She came in and loss to Jessalyn Hart, you know, the cunt you carried for so long. She loss on her debut and that made her look bad and she couldn't stand that shit! It fucking hurts losing your debut, to a lot of people it can fuck up the rest of your career and what does the cunt do?"

"She demands a rematch, she pushes that match like it's a once in a lifetime event and she makes sure that her winning this time completely overshadows that embarrassing blemish."

"Atara is a terrified little girl."

"She will try everything to weasel her way out of looking bad. Her promo against me, wasn't for me, no, cunt, it was for you. Despite you not being her opponent. She pulled a Lacklan and used this match to focus on future gold, like a dumb cunt. She can see you're taking the Hart and the Hart title around a girl whose all deal is being loved is just too fitting for her to pass up, so she pulls this dumb shit instead, she tries to avoid me breaking her down and smashing that glass safe space around her to pieces. Shame, could have gone hard with saying she has a face for TV instead and actually could have stood a chance in this little promo war."

VV: "Yeah, face for Jerry Springer..."

"HA! Got em. But be careful, I think Maury is still around if he heard you mentioning that cunt he won't shut the fuck up."

V makes an angelic giggle and looks to me.

VV: "So that's it? You've exposed her as a fake bitch? Everyone knows she's fake."

"Yeah, love, it's all makeup and photoshop and I don't mean just her looks. Her promos are basically pop-up books trying to distract horny twelve-year-olds from how dull the cunt is. Oh yeah, what she gonna say and do? Call people doves and talk to her mate? If I get called out for that shit than she deserves to as well. Replacing doves with the word cunt, of course. She wants to appear as this star when she hasn't done fuck all to deserve any recognition here. This is her chance to actually prove she's worth a fuck and she can't even step up to the level."

"So when I drown her in the shallow waters and leave her mascara running, I'll be happy to know I put another shit cunt in their place."

"Down in Gilmour-tier levels of abysmal disappointment, making them no more than a catchphrase with zero fucking shit to ever back it up."

V's eyes scan my face with a sweet grin.

VV: "Now that sounds sick."

"So sick." I give V a kiss. "Wanna fuck in the back of the Subbie?"

VV: "Aww, so romantic!"

Hint of sarcasm but doesn't stop her dragging my collar to the backseat.

Life is good, cunts.


Life is shit, cunts.

Nothing but pain and fucking misery.

AND THERE'S THAT FUCKING CACTUS AGAIN!

I've walking in circles for fucking hours! It's black, the moon guides my blind footsteps. My lips are cracking and I'm on the verge of passing out.

Fuck this!

Fuck this fucking shit!

If I ever, EVER, get back to civilisation I'm going to murder Fuzz. This is all on him... Fucking cunt...

I'll fucking set the world on fire...

...

I should grow a goatee...


[cuntevent] Noah did eventually make it out of the desert and he did grow that goatee.

Dehydrated and exhausted to the point of fatigue he wasn't cleared to wrestle. Not able to fulfil his duties, Atara Themis became Television Champion by default and Kenzi and Sarah Grey-Lacklan retained their titles as Fuzz tried to fight them on his own but the numbers game was too much.

A rift quickly occurred between Noah and Fuzz, both having harsh feelings towards one another.

Vita dumped Noah, thinking Atara screwed all bodily fluids from him leaving him in a mummified like state.

Noah quit the XWF, ashamed and embarrassed. He moved to Canada to 'find out how maple syrup was made'. He did so and was let down with the process.

To this day he lives in Toronto.

He plots his revenge on everyone who has wronged him.

This is but one timeline, will the same occur in the other we know?[/cuntevent]






"Pffft, will it fuck. Hardest worker in the XWF ain't gonna let that weak shit happen."







]]> Cactus
[Image: wpacdRK.gif]

I wake from a slight power nap, cuddled in between two rock pillows. I take a look at my dead phone dies and peek through the gap watching the sun begin to set, I decide to move on from my safe place from the boulders, it's still burning fucking hot and my throat feels dry. Kill for a VB and a phone charger right now... I scan the horizon which doesn't help at all to where I actually am, at least there are no fucking roos... I walk in a random direction hoping I find the site again.

Least I'll get a gnarly tan. I remove my sweat-stained t-shirt and tuck it partially into my shorts as I sink into the soft sand with each step; I begin to walk towards a dune that looks vaguely familiar; I mean, they all look the fucking same but what other hope have I got. I get to the cunt and place my hands on the burning sand before recoiling immediately from the heat, I gingerly place them down again sucking air through my teeth and crawl my way quickly to the top making an audible 'ow' with every foot I climb. At the peak I shield my eyes from the sun.

Guess what I see.

If you guessed sand and a cactus you'd be dead on, cunt.

I sigh to myself before sitting on my ass and going down the dune like it's the least fun slide in the world. I hit the bottom and hop back up to my feet continuing to walk like a stroppy little cunt.

Hey Fuzz, you won LL, cunt. You get your own pay-per-view, where do you want it? The Bahamas? Dubai? Somewhere with a 5-star hotel and fucking water?

Oh no, you want it in Oz? And you want me to pick the location!? Well, cunt, I fucking love music festivals, how about we have the cunt in the desert like a festival! During a national water shortage and the worst fires we've seen in a lifetime.

Fuck me, I am one smart cunt...

This whole thing is just fucked. This is how I fucking die! Lost in the cunting desert and it's mostly my fault! Won't make it to Cunt-Fest, gonna love my TV Title, lose my chance at the Tag Titles. I wonder what happened if that fucking coin just landed heads... He'd be stuck out here like a cunt and I'd be cursing him like he's cursing me right now. At least I'd have Vita with me... That's fucked now too! FUCKING CUNTS! Fuzz should be out here, he betrayed me! He should be doing everything to make up for that shit but noooooo, I'm a sad prick and couldn't lose him so I forgive the cunt. Rather be in fucking denial... What the fuck is wrong with me? I should have kicked the shit out him, cut ties and peaced out. Moved on to bigger and better things. Look we're following him actually lead me.

Here.

Walking past some prickly cunt in a baron wasteland.

Great life choices, Noah, fucking top notch.

He's gonna fuck me off anyway for not showing up... So then I won't have a fake dad and I won't have a girlfriend thanks to Atara. I'm just gonna be a corpse in the desert with no one around and no one giving a fuck about me. Oh everyone look at Noah, he's all depressed like a little bitch but hides it with humour what an original cunt. I kick in the sand in front of me out of frustration and look around at the nothingness as the sky fills a dull orange; the wind picks up carrying the smell of smoke and I shiver to my core for a breath moment. I stop and even wonder if there's any point continuing on; the last thing I want to care about right now is walking through the desert to see two pissed off cunts who I care about and go into two matches. But that's the only thing I can think of!

And it's driving me insane.

Fucking swimming pool match... Ugh, water sounds so good right now...

And Atara in that water...

[cuntevent][/cuntevent]

And I'm wrestling her as she gets wetter and wetter... Her bikini clinging close to her.

[cuntevent][/cuntevent]

... Man, I'm thirsty.

Pun intended.

I mean I'm basically single now and everyone just assumes we're fucking so what's the harm, right? What have I got to lose?

[cuntevent][/cuntevent]

...

Right...

Fuck... I need to get back to her.


Meanwhile in the main timeline...

[i]Me and Dad are monitoring the situation from the hood of our tricked out Subaru. A bevvie each in hand we look as the main stage is put together and shit looks fucking ripper. Fuzz shakes his head with a slight grin.

FUZZ: "Man, it's finally clicked that it's all together. Just seeing this, kid, it's ours! And it's finally happening."

"Bloody oath, cunt. Feels real now."

FUZZ: "And we'll be walking out of our show with all the gold, life can't get better."

"I'll drink to that."

Me and dad clink our cans together and take a sip each.

FUZZ: "Gotta say, VB is actually growing on me."

"That's my Australian heritage working in on you now that we're actually related."

He narrows his eyes at me.

FUZZ: "Doesn't work that way, son."

"It doesn't? ... Huh." I take another swig before patting the hood of the Subaru. "Can't wait to see this sick cunt trash that rookie."

FUZZ: "Oh yeah, that'll definitely be a highlight."

"And seeing Cent in a dress."

FUZZ: "He's owning that pretty hard though, can I ask why you wanted that?"

"Put him in his place. He thinks it's some humiliation or some shit, like we all saw the cunt dress as Adolf Targaryen a while back so we know he doesn't care about looking like a cunt but it's legit just to remind him I own the cunt. I beat him on my Warfare debut and he still gets salty every time I talk to him, he has never asked for a rematch and has pissed his pants in general at the sight of me. I want him to know, no matter what, he's still my bitch."

FUZZ: "Hm... So you can hold a grudge."

"Only to cunts I don't like, most people get a pass."

Fuzz makes a slight chuckle as we see someone approach.

FUZZ: "Holy shit is that Vita?"

V approaches looking like an Apache attack helicopter wrapped in flesh; fucking built like a brick shithouse.

"Hey babe."

VV: "Hey guys! Not interrupting am I?"

"Course not." I budge up and pat the hood of the car. "Hop on."

V smiles and jumps onto the car beside me and it very visibly dips on her side; She places an arm under my head and I cuddle up to her like she's a pillow made out of grade A steak. Dad looks over his mouth agape.

FUZZ: "Vita what the fuck?"

VV: "What? I got swole."

FUZZ: "I can see that... How so quick?"

VV: "I got these AMAZING protein shakes, I'll hook you up."

FUZZ: "Protein shakes, huh?"

Dad looks down at me. I roll my eyes.

"What Vita does with her body and how she does it I may not agree with but I will support her choice."

FUZZ: "And you're okay with... That?"

Dad points a swirling finger around VV's gains. V side-eyes him a little but stays quiet.

"Yeah, it's sick! Look at her! She's like a rock climbing wall with a pretty face! I'm not some insecure prick who feels like his masculinity is being threatened, I ain't no Gilmour cunt."

Dad gives a slight sigh before shaking his head.

FUZZ: "As long as you're happy?"

VV: "Fuzz, do you have a problem?"

"I- ... No, I'm just being a dad I guess. To be honest everything has been a bit odd as of late."

"Yeah I vibe with that."

VV: "Okay, just wondering."

FUZZ: "Vita, right now you're the person I'd rather not pick a fight with."

Me and V give a short laugh as Fuzz hops off the car.

FUZZ: "I'll leave you kids to it, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He begins to walk as me and V get more comfortable on the hood.

"Later, dad."

VV: "Buh-bye!"

Dad throws his hand back in a wave as me and V look over at the sunset.

VV: "Okay so can we talk about Atara?"

"Jesus, V, nothing's going on!"

VV: "I know that but that cunt is up to something."

"She wants to play mind games by letting some helium loose from her head. She's honestly nothing to spare a thought on, cunt."

VV: "I know but it's just how she is, REALLY annoys me."

"That's how she operates, she doesn't try to break people in the way me and you would attack someone. It's all vague bullshit to raise some kind of self-importance; she's plastic, fake. You can see right through her and immediately tell just how much of a glass house she is. She wants people to say she's some Goddess, she wants people to focus on how she looks so they don't see how little of a threat she is. She came in and loss to Jessalyn Hart, you know, the cunt you carried for so long. She loss on her debut and that made her look bad and she couldn't stand that shit! It fucking hurts losing your debut, to a lot of people it can fuck up the rest of your career and what does the cunt do?"

"She demands a rematch, she pushes that match like it's a once in a lifetime event and she makes sure that her winning this time completely overshadows that embarrassing blemish."

"Atara is a terrified little girl."

"She will try everything to weasel her way out of looking bad. Her promo against me, wasn't for me, no, cunt, it was for you. Despite you not being her opponent. She pulled a Lacklan and used this match to focus on future gold, like a dumb cunt. She can see you're taking the Hart and the Hart title around a girl whose all deal is being loved is just too fitting for her to pass up, so she pulls this dumb shit instead, she tries to avoid me breaking her down and smashing that glass safe space around her to pieces. Shame, could have gone hard with saying she has a face for TV instead and actually could have stood a chance in this little promo war."

VV: "Yeah, face for Jerry Springer..."

"HA! Got em. But be careful, I think Maury is still around if he heard you mentioning that cunt he won't shut the fuck up."

V makes an angelic giggle and looks to me.

VV: "So that's it? You've exposed her as a fake bitch? Everyone knows she's fake."

"Yeah, love, it's all makeup and photoshop and I don't mean just her looks. Her promos are basically pop-up books trying to distract horny twelve-year-olds from how dull the cunt is. Oh yeah, what she gonna say and do? Call people doves and talk to her mate? If I get called out for that shit than she deserves to as well. Replacing doves with the word cunt, of course. She wants to appear as this star when she hasn't done fuck all to deserve any recognition here. This is her chance to actually prove she's worth a fuck and she can't even step up to the level."

"So when I drown her in the shallow waters and leave her mascara running, I'll be happy to know I put another shit cunt in their place."

"Down in Gilmour-tier levels of abysmal disappointment, making them no more than a catchphrase with zero fucking shit to ever back it up."

V's eyes scan my face with a sweet grin.

VV: "Now that sounds sick."

"So sick." I give V a kiss. "Wanna fuck in the back of the Subbie?"

VV: "Aww, so romantic!"

Hint of sarcasm but doesn't stop her dragging my collar to the backseat.

Life is good, cunts.


Life is shit, cunts.

Nothing but pain and fucking misery.

AND THERE'S THAT FUCKING CACTUS AGAIN!

I've walking in circles for fucking hours! It's black, the moon guides my blind footsteps. My lips are cracking and I'm on the verge of passing out.

Fuck this!

Fuck this fucking shit!

If I ever, EVER, get back to civilisation I'm going to murder Fuzz. This is all on him... Fucking cunt...

I'll fucking set the world on fire...

...

I should grow a goatee...


[cuntevent] Noah did eventually make it out of the desert and he did grow that goatee.

Dehydrated and exhausted to the point of fatigue he wasn't cleared to wrestle. Not able to fulfil his duties, Atara Themis became Television Champion by default and Kenzi and Sarah Grey-Lacklan retained their titles as Fuzz tried to fight them on his own but the numbers game was too much.

A rift quickly occurred between Noah and Fuzz, both having harsh feelings towards one another.

Vita dumped Noah, thinking Atara screwed all bodily fluids from him leaving him in a mummified like state.

Noah quit the XWF, ashamed and embarrassed. He moved to Canada to 'find out how maple syrup was made'. He did so and was let down with the process.

To this day he lives in Toronto.

He plots his revenge on everyone who has wronged him.

This is but one timeline, will the same occur in the other we know?[/cuntevent]






"Pffft, will it fuck. Hardest worker in the XWF ain't gonna let that weak shit happen."







]]> <![CDATA[You've Already Quit, Haven't You?]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36022 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 21:13:20 -0800 James Raven]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36022
NED: What’s up?

RAVEN: I can’t believe this.

CENTURION: Can’t believe what?

RAVEN: I’ve been here for two days and I haven’t seen a single dingo, kangaroo or koala.

I can feel Ned and Centurion exchanging a glance behind my back. Fuck ‘em. They know they’re equally disappointed and just too cowardly to admit it.

NED: Uh, I don’t think you’re going to see many koalas.

RAVEN: Dont be dense. It’s Australia, Ned. They’ve got koalas here.

CENTURION: The fires, James. It killed them all.

I turn around to glance at the two of them, each staring at me like I’m crazy.

RAVEN: What fucking fires?

NED: Seriously?

CENTURION: He’s kidding, Ned. The funniest joke to Raven is one that only he gets.

Fuck you, Andy. You don’t know my life. These two seem to forget that I’ve spent the past three or four months living on an Indonesian beach with nobody other than Betsy to speak to. It’s not like I was watching the news at night or cruising the internet for headlines. Whatever.

RAVEN: So there’s no koalas?

NED: I don’t think so man, I’m sorry.

RAVEN: Hmmm.

I stare back out across the sand. This changes things. Had I known there were going to be no koalas, I might have stayed on my beach. It’s not like the match against Mastermind was a huge selling point, I was looking for perks.

RAVEN: Well where are the battle buggies? Why can’t I hear the electric guitars and shit?

Centurion groans and rolls his eyes.

CENTURION: What the hell are you even talking about?

RAVEN: Wasn’t Mad Max about Australia?

NED: It was FILMED here, yeah… but it’s not a documentary…

RAVEN: I’m not a moron, Ned. I know it wasn’t a documentary. It’s based on historical events though. I thought Noah and Fuzz wanted to do the show here because it was the site of historical battles? So where are all the crazy cars? Where’s the gimp strapped to the top of a truck, wailing on the electric guitar?

NED: Are you seriou-

CENTURION: Ned! I promise you that he’s just messing with you. Ignore him.

Fuck you, Andy. I mean, this time you’re right but on general principle… fuck you. I shrug my shoulders casually and turn back to Ned with a wink.

RAVEN: All I’m saying is with the budget of this show, you’d think we’d have reached out to the War Lord and asked to borrow a few of their battle buggies to decorate the set. Maybe a few koalas too.

Ned chuckles but is clearly confused. I love it. I grin to myself and turn back to the landscape. I try to imagine what it will look like with the ring assembled, the seating set up, the video screen raised… the fearsome Hell Dome lingering on the columns, waiting to be lowered for the main event. It will be a spectacle, absolutely. I’ll say a lot of things about Noah and Fuzz, but I can’t deny that they’re creative. They think outside the box.

CENTURION: I feel like I’m at Burning Man.

NED: If this was Burning Man there would be attractive hippie girls offering people drugs instead of Peter Gilmour telling me to suck his… yeah.

RAVEN: Cent still hasn’t tried on his dress, Ned. Maybe he can be your attractive hippie girl.

Centurion shakes his head.

CENTURION: I didn’t miss you while you were gone, just to be clear. Go back to your island.

RAVEN: Not yet, buddy. You’re stuck with me.

NED: It’s nice to have you around again.

CENTURION: No need to kiss his ass, Ned.

Ned sighs and looks down at the sand, and I begin to slowly pace away from the other two. I climb a small dune a few yards away, turning to survey the patch of land that will host Cunt Fest in a few days. XWF production staff scramble like ants, carrying piping and foam slabs around desperately to assemble the set in time. It’s surreal to me. I wasn’t expecting to be back here… not for a long, long time at least. Yet here I am, back on my grind, overseeing pre production for another major event, and putting my body on the line yet again.

I sincerely hope I made the right decision to be here.

Ned and Centurion make their way over to the base of the dune, looking up at me as I watch the workers scramble through the sand.

CENTURION: How are you feeling? Are you ready?

RAVEN: If I’m not, this is going to be really embarrassing for me.

NED: Mastermind will put up a fight, but I think you’re going to be fine.

CENTURION: Don’t listen to the peanut gallery, if you do anything short of destroy Mastermind you should just head on back to… Thailand? Bali? Where was that beach you were on again?

I grin to myself. I had sent Andy an email about a month after I left with a photo of my view from the island. Maybe I wanted to inspire a bit of jealousy as he was grinding away on the road, and it seems to have worked. has been trying to figure out where I’ve been since I landed in Australia. I’ve made it a point not to tell him. I don’t need other people invading my new vacation spot.

RAVEN: I was in Denver.

CENTURION: Have I mentioned how much I didn’t miss you? I hope you lose your match.

RAVEN: If I do, at least I won’t be in a dress.

Andy stares at me for a long moment, but finally cracks the first smile I’ve seen on him all night before flipping me the finger and turning away from Ned and I.

CENTURION: On that note, I have a few things to attend to. It’s been fun catching up but the adult needs to leave, you two try not to get into any trouble.

RAVEN: No promises.

He’s gone before Ned or I even process it, wandering back towards the tents and the buggies ready to drive talent back to the hotel. Ned watches Centurion as he makes his way across the sand, then turns to me.

NED: Is he alright?

RAVEN: He’s fine.

NED: Are you sure? I’ve talked to him a few times this week before you showed up, and he sounds nervous.

RAVEN: He’s been in the game a long time, Ned. He covers his bases well. That’s all.

Ned and I watch as Centurion disappears into the shadows of base camp. Slowly, Ned turns to focus on me.

NED: Are you sure you’re OK?

RAVEN: Me? Sure.

NED: No, seriously.

I look into Neds eyes, and can tell he’s asking me for information that’s more than surface. He’s asking me as a friend, a partner.

NED: Are you good? Is there an injury you’re covering, or a run in that you need us to watch out for? Anything?

RAVEN: Nah, handle your own match Ned. Win that belt. You don’t need to worry about me.

Ned says nothing, then shakes his head.

NED: I worry about all of you. Robert, Drew, Andy… you…

I say nothing, but turn to study Ned. His sincerity is touching. Since I’ve landed in Australia I’ve acted like a jack ass. I’ll admit it. It’s nonstop sarcasm and twitter shit talk, but I think everyone can see through it. I think everyone knows I’m deflecting. I need this to go well for me…

RAVEN: I’m fine, Ned. Thanks.

NED: [i]You’re sure?

I grin, and nod my head man.

RAVEN: Yeah man. I’m healthy, I’m happy, I’m rested… I can’t ask for much more. Mastermind is about to get worked.

He grins back to me, but I can see a modicum of doubt in his eyes. He hears the waver in my voice. The People’s G.O.A.T., an unquestionable top ten star of all time… worried about Mastermind… who’d have thunk it?

NED: I can try to help you think of a stra-

RAVEN: No.

Ned stops cold.

RAVEN: Nothing personal, but I got this.

He nods his head. I know he means well, but I need to make sure I can handle this on my own still.

RAVEN: Hey, let’s head back. Maybe we can catch Cent getting his dress fitted or something.

I make my way down from the dune, and together we make our way back towards the base camp.

Fuck me.

This is actually going down.


Mastermind, you’ve put in your time in this company so I’m not going to bother sugar coating things. I won’t beat around the bush or tiptoe around the fact that whatever that nonsense you released a few days ago was is one of the most painful promotional videos I’ve ever been forced to sit through. I don’t say that lightly. It was poorly thought out. It was poorly executed. It was repetitive. The dude in the tie and vest looked like someone in a sex offender registry. You made me think of Biggie and not in a positive way, and in the end to justify it all… you tell me you’re mad at me for interfering in a match you had, like… 6 months ago?

Dude.

Get over it.

If you were good enough to win that match, you would have found a way. If you were meant to hold another Xtreme title, you’d have snagged it by now. If you were destined for anything other than gatekeeper status (because you choke like a virgin on prom night each time you face someone like me but still find your way into more title shots than Peter Gilmour) you’d have less than 70 MOTHERFUCKING LOSSES!

Mastermind, you’ve been ragdolled by Frodo and Maverick. Your team got cock slapped by Team Gilmours superdick at Bad Medicine. YOU’VE LOST LIKE HALF A DOZEN TIMES TO ZANE GODDAMN NORRISON! Yeah, the carbon copy zombie from that shitty rom com… beat you… a bunch of times. Explain to me how me interfering in your match 6 months ago negatively impacted your career? It seems to me that you’ve been shooting yourself in the foot and costing yourself significant advancement for the past six years, you didn’t need my help for that.

You want to know my motivation for this match, Mastermind?

You asked for it.

That’s all.

You’ve held this grudge for six months. I’m sure you’ve thought about it again and again, I’m sure you have dream scenarios of what you would do to me in the ring for costing you a fourth Xtreme title… and now is your chance… and none of it is going to happen. You’re going to look me in the eyes, and realize you have grossly overestimated your own abilities and bitten off more than you can chew. You think Gator fucked up your world in the past? You ain’t seen shit, you Kiwi fuck.

I’m about to hit New Zealand worse than Australias smoke.

Learn your lesson, MM. Learn your spot in the rotation. Learn this fucking craft.

You’ve been around way too long. There’s no excuses anymore.

Fear the Raven... Forevermore...]]>
NED: What’s up?

RAVEN: I can’t believe this.

CENTURION: Can’t believe what?

RAVEN: I’ve been here for two days and I haven’t seen a single dingo, kangaroo or koala.

I can feel Ned and Centurion exchanging a glance behind my back. Fuck ‘em. They know they’re equally disappointed and just too cowardly to admit it.

NED: Uh, I don’t think you’re going to see many koalas.

RAVEN: Dont be dense. It’s Australia, Ned. They’ve got koalas here.

CENTURION: The fires, James. It killed them all.

I turn around to glance at the two of them, each staring at me like I’m crazy.

RAVEN: What fucking fires?

NED: Seriously?

CENTURION: He’s kidding, Ned. The funniest joke to Raven is one that only he gets.

Fuck you, Andy. You don’t know my life. These two seem to forget that I’ve spent the past three or four months living on an Indonesian beach with nobody other than Betsy to speak to. It’s not like I was watching the news at night or cruising the internet for headlines. Whatever.

RAVEN: So there’s no koalas?

NED: I don’t think so man, I’m sorry.

RAVEN: Hmmm.

I stare back out across the sand. This changes things. Had I known there were going to be no koalas, I might have stayed on my beach. It’s not like the match against Mastermind was a huge selling point, I was looking for perks.

RAVEN: Well where are the battle buggies? Why can’t I hear the electric guitars and shit?

Centurion groans and rolls his eyes.

CENTURION: What the hell are you even talking about?

RAVEN: Wasn’t Mad Max about Australia?

NED: It was FILMED here, yeah… but it’s not a documentary…

RAVEN: I’m not a moron, Ned. I know it wasn’t a documentary. It’s based on historical events though. I thought Noah and Fuzz wanted to do the show here because it was the site of historical battles? So where are all the crazy cars? Where’s the gimp strapped to the top of a truck, wailing on the electric guitar?

NED: Are you seriou-

CENTURION: Ned! I promise you that he’s just messing with you. Ignore him.

Fuck you, Andy. I mean, this time you’re right but on general principle… fuck you. I shrug my shoulders casually and turn back to Ned with a wink.

RAVEN: All I’m saying is with the budget of this show, you’d think we’d have reached out to the War Lord and asked to borrow a few of their battle buggies to decorate the set. Maybe a few koalas too.

Ned chuckles but is clearly confused. I love it. I grin to myself and turn back to the landscape. I try to imagine what it will look like with the ring assembled, the seating set up, the video screen raised… the fearsome Hell Dome lingering on the columns, waiting to be lowered for the main event. It will be a spectacle, absolutely. I’ll say a lot of things about Noah and Fuzz, but I can’t deny that they’re creative. They think outside the box.

CENTURION: I feel like I’m at Burning Man.

NED: If this was Burning Man there would be attractive hippie girls offering people drugs instead of Peter Gilmour telling me to suck his… yeah.

RAVEN: Cent still hasn’t tried on his dress, Ned. Maybe he can be your attractive hippie girl.

Centurion shakes his head.

CENTURION: I didn’t miss you while you were gone, just to be clear. Go back to your island.

RAVEN: Not yet, buddy. You’re stuck with me.

NED: It’s nice to have you around again.

CENTURION: No need to kiss his ass, Ned.

Ned sighs and looks down at the sand, and I begin to slowly pace away from the other two. I climb a small dune a few yards away, turning to survey the patch of land that will host Cunt Fest in a few days. XWF production staff scramble like ants, carrying piping and foam slabs around desperately to assemble the set in time. It’s surreal to me. I wasn’t expecting to be back here… not for a long, long time at least. Yet here I am, back on my grind, overseeing pre production for another major event, and putting my body on the line yet again.

I sincerely hope I made the right decision to be here.

Ned and Centurion make their way over to the base of the dune, looking up at me as I watch the workers scramble through the sand.

CENTURION: How are you feeling? Are you ready?

RAVEN: If I’m not, this is going to be really embarrassing for me.

NED: Mastermind will put up a fight, but I think you’re going to be fine.

CENTURION: Don’t listen to the peanut gallery, if you do anything short of destroy Mastermind you should just head on back to… Thailand? Bali? Where was that beach you were on again?

I grin to myself. I had sent Andy an email about a month after I left with a photo of my view from the island. Maybe I wanted to inspire a bit of jealousy as he was grinding away on the road, and it seems to have worked. has been trying to figure out where I’ve been since I landed in Australia. I’ve made it a point not to tell him. I don’t need other people invading my new vacation spot.

RAVEN: I was in Denver.

CENTURION: Have I mentioned how much I didn’t miss you? I hope you lose your match.

RAVEN: If I do, at least I won’t be in a dress.

Andy stares at me for a long moment, but finally cracks the first smile I’ve seen on him all night before flipping me the finger and turning away from Ned and I.

CENTURION: On that note, I have a few things to attend to. It’s been fun catching up but the adult needs to leave, you two try not to get into any trouble.

RAVEN: No promises.

He’s gone before Ned or I even process it, wandering back towards the tents and the buggies ready to drive talent back to the hotel. Ned watches Centurion as he makes his way across the sand, then turns to me.

NED: Is he alright?

RAVEN: He’s fine.

NED: Are you sure? I’ve talked to him a few times this week before you showed up, and he sounds nervous.

RAVEN: He’s been in the game a long time, Ned. He covers his bases well. That’s all.

Ned and I watch as Centurion disappears into the shadows of base camp. Slowly, Ned turns to focus on me.

NED: Are you sure you’re OK?

RAVEN: Me? Sure.

NED: No, seriously.

I look into Neds eyes, and can tell he’s asking me for information that’s more than surface. He’s asking me as a friend, a partner.

NED: Are you good? Is there an injury you’re covering, or a run in that you need us to watch out for? Anything?

RAVEN: Nah, handle your own match Ned. Win that belt. You don’t need to worry about me.

Ned says nothing, then shakes his head.

NED: I worry about all of you. Robert, Drew, Andy… you…

I say nothing, but turn to study Ned. His sincerity is touching. Since I’ve landed in Australia I’ve acted like a jack ass. I’ll admit it. It’s nonstop sarcasm and twitter shit talk, but I think everyone can see through it. I think everyone knows I’m deflecting. I need this to go well for me…

RAVEN: I’m fine, Ned. Thanks.

NED: [i]You’re sure?

I grin, and nod my head man.

RAVEN: Yeah man. I’m healthy, I’m happy, I’m rested… I can’t ask for much more. Mastermind is about to get worked.

He grins back to me, but I can see a modicum of doubt in his eyes. He hears the waver in my voice. The People’s G.O.A.T., an unquestionable top ten star of all time… worried about Mastermind… who’d have thunk it?

NED: I can try to help you think of a stra-

RAVEN: No.

Ned stops cold.

RAVEN: Nothing personal, but I got this.

He nods his head. I know he means well, but I need to make sure I can handle this on my own still.

RAVEN: Hey, let’s head back. Maybe we can catch Cent getting his dress fitted or something.

I make my way down from the dune, and together we make our way back towards the base camp.

Fuck me.

This is actually going down.


Mastermind, you’ve put in your time in this company so I’m not going to bother sugar coating things. I won’t beat around the bush or tiptoe around the fact that whatever that nonsense you released a few days ago was is one of the most painful promotional videos I’ve ever been forced to sit through. I don’t say that lightly. It was poorly thought out. It was poorly executed. It was repetitive. The dude in the tie and vest looked like someone in a sex offender registry. You made me think of Biggie and not in a positive way, and in the end to justify it all… you tell me you’re mad at me for interfering in a match you had, like… 6 months ago?

Dude.

Get over it.

If you were good enough to win that match, you would have found a way. If you were meant to hold another Xtreme title, you’d have snagged it by now. If you were destined for anything other than gatekeeper status (because you choke like a virgin on prom night each time you face someone like me but still find your way into more title shots than Peter Gilmour) you’d have less than 70 MOTHERFUCKING LOSSES!

Mastermind, you’ve been ragdolled by Frodo and Maverick. Your team got cock slapped by Team Gilmours superdick at Bad Medicine. YOU’VE LOST LIKE HALF A DOZEN TIMES TO ZANE GODDAMN NORRISON! Yeah, the carbon copy zombie from that shitty rom com… beat you… a bunch of times. Explain to me how me interfering in your match 6 months ago negatively impacted your career? It seems to me that you’ve been shooting yourself in the foot and costing yourself significant advancement for the past six years, you didn’t need my help for that.

You want to know my motivation for this match, Mastermind?

You asked for it.

That’s all.

You’ve held this grudge for six months. I’m sure you’ve thought about it again and again, I’m sure you have dream scenarios of what you would do to me in the ring for costing you a fourth Xtreme title… and now is your chance… and none of it is going to happen. You’re going to look me in the eyes, and realize you have grossly overestimated your own abilities and bitten off more than you can chew. You think Gator fucked up your world in the past? You ain’t seen shit, you Kiwi fuck.

I’m about to hit New Zealand worse than Australias smoke.

Learn your lesson, MM. Learn your spot in the rotation. Learn this fucking craft.

You’ve been around way too long. There’s no excuses anymore.

Fear the Raven... Forevermore...]]> <![CDATA[No Doors: No Escape: Attention Mafia]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36020 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 20:41:33 -0800 Shawn Warstein]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36020

Eventually I woke up from my daze and Noah and I made our way to the Maury show. If you don’t know what happened there then maybe you’re not paying any attention. It’s all out in the open now. I lied and cheated my way out of the first Maury DNA test. I was weak. I was scared. I was completely closed off to the opportunity that was in front of me.

All this time I could’ve been changing, not only Noah’s, but my past as well. I grew up without a father, and it made me bitter and resentful. I wanted nothing more than to shove my fist down that assholes throat the first time I saw him, but I didn’t.

Mainly because I still haven’t seen him. I can honestly say I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, and I don’t care. I stopped caring long ago, but Noah he never gave up. He knew something deep down. He wasn’t about to give up hope, the dream of finding his father. It must have been destined for this to happen. Why else would I be put in such a position? Why did I come back when I did? Why did I gravitate towards Noah and vice versa. This world is crazy in so many different ways, but now….

Where do we go from here?

“Soooooooo.”

We both are just standing there mouths agape sitting in the green room. Noah is drenched in champaign. I pull up my VB and take a swig. The smile on Noah’s face still hasn’t left his face.

“This is all well and good Noah, but we still have work to take care of…”

“Yeah DAD. I’m aware. Just let me enjoy this for a little bit.”

I nod and watch as Noah is furiously texting away, smile from ear to ear. He’s shaking from pure excitement. I take a deep breath and finish my drink.

“So the Mafia…”

“Come on cunt, just let me enjoy this. I was right. I can’t belive I’m saying this, but I was fucking right cunt. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? Every since mum said what you did for a living all those years ago? From that day forward I knew I had to become a wrestler, to eventually find my Da…. You.”

I’m at a loss for words. If I had just an ounce of his will I could take over the XWF. Just a small drop of his determination, and I would’ve been in the Hall of Legends years ago. I’d be Top Ten all-time, but I don’t. He must get those qualities from his mom.

“So what are we going to do as a family first? Disney? Sea World? Oh… Wait. Do you want to see my mum?

I hadn’t even thought about that. I mean, what should I say? Sorry for cumming in you, but he turned out ok. You did a good job, sorry I was an American teenager and needed to go back to the States, but good on ya…

“That’s not really up to me Noah.”

“Fair Dinkum.”

I’m still in shock. I’m not sure if it’s hit me yet, or if everything has hit me. I have literally signed him up for a glorified deathmatch at Cuntfest and now this.

“Noah we really need to talk about Cuntfest.”
[color=white]
Noah stops celebrating for a moment and looks at me with a serious look on his face.

“Worried about Helldome?”

“Yeah.”

“Scared I’m going to get hurt?”

“Or Worse.”

“Nervous that I don’t know what I’m getting into?”

“Obviously.”

Noah begins to nod his head and then shakes his head in disbelief.

“Now all of a sudden you’re worried? What because I’m your son now? Now you can’t live with the fact that I might end up with a career shorter than the length of Kenzi’s movie career? Or the fact that you don’t think I can survive in it? What do you think I’m soft now all because you’re my Dad?”

Noah throws his hands up and lets them fall to his side.

“I thought by now you would know better than that. I didn’t agree to be your partner because you were possibly my Dad, I did it because you are one of the sickest cunts on the planet. I did it because you asked. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be asked to team with a Legend? No you don’t cunt. Even if you weren’t my Dad, I’d still run through a brick wall for this team… Would you?”

I take a moment to compose myself.

“Noah, of course. I wouldn’t take down the entire XWF for us, but that’s not the issue right now. The main issue we are facing is simple. One of us is going to be changed forever after this match. I’ve been through one and let me tell you, it’s not for the faint of heart. You leave a piece of yourself in the arena that night. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night with cold sweats. Noah I’m not worried about you in this match as my Son. I’m worried about you as a human.”

“That’s bullshite and you know it….”

“Noah, it sounds cool, and it’s all fun and games until that gate locks.” I stand up and walk up to Noah. “Then nothing else is ever the same. You’re not fighting just to win, it’s survival. If you can WALK out of the ring when it’s done, that’s a huge victory.”

“Sounds sick. I can’t wait to show you…”

“No you’re not showing me anything. I’m near the end of my career, your’s is just beginning. Why else would I drag you to the top basically kicking and screaming? Why else would I shine a spotlight on you more often than myself? Noah, you’re the future, I’m just an old man running out of time.”

Noah looks flabbergasted, and almost heartbroken.

“What are you saying?”

I take a deep sigh.

“I guess what I’m saying is…” I pause for a moment. I watch Noah as he is eagerly awaiting what I’m about to say. “ I had you going there for a moment.”

“Fuck off cunt!”

“Don’t talk to me like that… I’m your Father.”

“You’ve got a long way to go before you can play that card.”

I laugh a little bit.

“You’re right. But seriously, I want you to know that this isn’t just another match. I’ve had your back since day one of this journey, and you’ve had mine. Nothing was going to change that. Not a single fucking thing on this planet was going to keep us from getting those titles. I need to know right now that you are willing to do whatever it takes to get the win…Also why do I have the sudden urge to call Tara Reid?”

“We went on Maury twice cunt… If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know, and I don’t know why you would call her...”

“Again, you’re right. We’ve screamed from the mountain tops that those titles were stolen from under us. We have fought to put ourselves in a position to get them. We have fought to make our mark on this business. Not just my name, but yours now as well. Noah are you ready to become the XWF Tag Team Champions?”

“You know it Cunt…”

“Are you ready to become a dominant factor in the XWF now?”

“I was born ready.”

“Noah at Cuntfest, we etch our name in the history books. They will never be able to take away what we will accomplish when the curtain closes on Sunday. 2019 ended with me beating the piss out of Sarah, 2020 begins with us ascending to the top of the food chain. Noah… It’s time for us to put our stamp on the industry.”

Noah leaps up as we do our super secret handshake. The camera fades with both of us cracking open a couple of VB’s.

The Afterthought

The time for talking is almost over. We are vastly approaching the night where Noah and I take our rightful place atop the XWF, all while ridding the XWF of Kenzi and Sar all in one fell swoop. There are a few other things I’m going to address before we get to the heart of the matter, so let’s start there shall we.

Fuck you, Robert Main. Keep my fucking name out of your mouth. No a single fucking person asked you to say anything about me, yet there you are once again talking about ME. I don’t care if you think saying the word Cunt is passé, and maybe you’re right but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get to some people still. I mean just look at all the management here in the XWF. Not a single one of them will say the real name of the show, so yes passé, but the point remains. Also saying I won Lethal Lottery because neither one of you were in it? Ask Page, I’ve beaten him one on one, and since you and I have never had the pleasure, I’m going to assume that you wouldn’t be an issue. Sure you were the Universal champion for such a long time without any real challengers, yes I’m including Page in there. So please for the sake of everyone, please just shut the fuck up.

There are approximately 3.8 billion women on this planet, yet there are just two that I can’t seem to stop running into. Just two that have finally decided to show up for a title defense.

Wait what? Are you kidding me?

You’re honestly telling me that there is a more than zero percent chance that they still might not show up? That they might get caught in some bullshittery? Anything for them to avoid Noah and I, if the shoe fits, I guess. That’s just it isn’t it. Ever since they won the titles they have done everything to avoid us. That’s not just hearsay, that’s a fact. All of a sudden I have a claim to their titles and Kenzi fucks off for two months, only to come back and face Big D and Ned. Seriously? Then Lethal Lottery happened and we couldn’t go after the titles, but now… Now in Helldome, they can’t run anymore.

Not for lack of trying though.

It isn’t by chance that Noah and I are both competing twice tomorrow night. We knew what we were getting into, you don’t just prance into Helldome, you need to be ready and primed for it, so a match a few hours beforehand is just what you need. While the both of you will be worrying about what’s going to happen, we have to concentrate on keeping our respective titles around our waists, then we have to commentate the show, and then we step into Helldome.

There is no time for us to stop and worry. All there is, is forward momentum. This match is just a continuation of the night for us, but you’re too busy worrying about WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, we are focusing on what’s GOING TO HAPPEN.

So make all your little jokes about us, call me a bitch because your friend got clipped on twitter. That wasn’t me by the way, but if that’s what is going to give you the drive and effort, fine. Say Noah only days one vulgar word?

What?

And of course the Brackets. Oh how I bitched and moaned about them constantly right?

What?

Sure did. I didn’t happen to see anyone else worrying about their placement in the “tournament”. It wasn’t listed as a Lethal Lottery style layout. It was listed as a tournament, you know something structured not just the whims of management.

What?

It’s as if you you want to lose the titles so Kenzi can fuck off to the other place, while you go after Corey. Cool. Wait. Lux… No Engineer now. Sorry, it’s difficult to sometimes keep which personality he is this week.

So yes while I am waiting for my opportunity, if I were you I wouldn’t hold my fucking breath. Everyone knows everything that I have said in regards to management keeping you happy. You deny it, then good things happen for you without your intent. Weird how it seems everything dealing with you has to placate you in some way. Gotta keep Sarah happy.

I really must commend you guys on how important you think you are to the world. Really me as the First Husband? Sounds nice in theory, but not for me. There’s too much dirt on me in the past, it would basically guarantee that a Presidential run for anyone associated with me would lose in monumental fashion.

I do look good in that office, but alas that is all just a figment of your imagination. You aren’t really that relevant to my life in the grand scheme of things. Sure I’ve bitched and moaned about you two for what seems like months now, but when we are done, we’re done. There is no grandiose butterfly effect in play here. This isn’t what the future would be, this is simply put reality.

The reality is at Cuntfest Noah and I are going to bet the shot out of you for hours on end, hey you got something right. Why hours? Our show. Our rules. Long after all the fans have left the fairgrounds, the both of you will still be getting your teeth jammed down your throat. I’m going to jam Kenzi so far up Sarah’s ass, that when Sarah talks you’ll be able to tell what Kenzi has for breakfast.

The both of you have done some good things here in the XWF. Kudos for that, you’ve played the game well, and to your own favor. The games are over. Vinny and Theo and James and SBW, and Atticus can’t save you now. The absolute worst thing that could’ve possibly happened for the both of you was me winning Lethal Lottery. The second my hand was raised I knew what match I was going to book myself in.

I knew right then we were going to end this rivalry once and for all. Sure the idea of going after Engy was alluring, but I'm the one person who is on a quest to close all of the doors I’ve left open in the past. So next up is…. well maybe I won’t spoil that for you, but we are effectively done. That is unless somehow we end up losing…

Then that’s just another door left open that will need to be closed at a later date.

Yet I don’t plan on that happening, Noah doesn’t plan on that happening. I want the both of you to understand something very relevant to all of this…

No matter how much I claim it is, this wasn’t done by destiny. This was months and months of my hard work. My blood, my sweat. This was me making my own destiny. You two were just along for the ride. This won’t be the last time we cross paths, I can guarantee that. When this is all over, and the dust has settled in the ring regardless of who is victorious. I want you to know that I chose to do this. I set out to make this happen. Just like Ned, I Chose you. You can come up with all the funny little parody direct to DVD movies all you want. When you realize that was all for not, I want you to despise me. I want you to want me dead. I want you to hate me.

And if you don’t?

Maybe you should.



Just like those Marvel Movies, yet again another post credit scene. Noah is still above the moon over the revelation that I was his father. He stops dead in his tracks and turns towards me.

“Dad have you given it any thought about if you want to see mum?”

I scratch my beard, and rub the bridge of my nose.

“Noah I told you, not my call.”

He excitedly slaps me on the shoulder.

“Well she said if you want to, we are more than welcome over there, and since we are in ‘Stralia already I figured why not. After we win all the gold, we can go see mum.”

“Okay.”

“You okay pops? I mean I saw your second promo for the Mafia and you didn’t even mention their second ones at all… you feeling okay?”

“Yup, right as rain. Last time Sarah gave me shit about talking about the second promos, so this time around I didn’t even watch them. I’m pretty sure they just said the same shit they always do.”

Noah nods in agreement.

“So Mum’s tomorrow?”

“You got it kid.”


]]>

Eventually I woke up from my daze and Noah and I made our way to the Maury show. If you don’t know what happened there then maybe you’re not paying any attention. It’s all out in the open now. I lied and cheated my way out of the first Maury DNA test. I was weak. I was scared. I was completely closed off to the opportunity that was in front of me.

All this time I could’ve been changing, not only Noah’s, but my past as well. I grew up without a father, and it made me bitter and resentful. I wanted nothing more than to shove my fist down that assholes throat the first time I saw him, but I didn’t.

Mainly because I still haven’t seen him. I can honestly say I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, and I don’t care. I stopped caring long ago, but Noah he never gave up. He knew something deep down. He wasn’t about to give up hope, the dream of finding his father. It must have been destined for this to happen. Why else would I be put in such a position? Why did I come back when I did? Why did I gravitate towards Noah and vice versa. This world is crazy in so many different ways, but now….

Where do we go from here?

“Soooooooo.”

We both are just standing there mouths agape sitting in the green room. Noah is drenched in champaign. I pull up my VB and take a swig. The smile on Noah’s face still hasn’t left his face.

“This is all well and good Noah, but we still have work to take care of…”

“Yeah DAD. I’m aware. Just let me enjoy this for a little bit.”

I nod and watch as Noah is furiously texting away, smile from ear to ear. He’s shaking from pure excitement. I take a deep breath and finish my drink.

“So the Mafia…”

“Come on cunt, just let me enjoy this. I was right. I can’t belive I’m saying this, but I was fucking right cunt. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? Every since mum said what you did for a living all those years ago? From that day forward I knew I had to become a wrestler, to eventually find my Da…. You.”

I’m at a loss for words. If I had just an ounce of his will I could take over the XWF. Just a small drop of his determination, and I would’ve been in the Hall of Legends years ago. I’d be Top Ten all-time, but I don’t. He must get those qualities from his mom.

“So what are we going to do as a family first? Disney? Sea World? Oh… Wait. Do you want to see my mum?

I hadn’t even thought about that. I mean, what should I say? Sorry for cumming in you, but he turned out ok. You did a good job, sorry I was an American teenager and needed to go back to the States, but good on ya…

“That’s not really up to me Noah.”

“Fair Dinkum.”

I’m still in shock. I’m not sure if it’s hit me yet, or if everything has hit me. I have literally signed him up for a glorified deathmatch at Cuntfest and now this.

“Noah we really need to talk about Cuntfest.”
[color=white]
Noah stops celebrating for a moment and looks at me with a serious look on his face.

“Worried about Helldome?”

“Yeah.”

“Scared I’m going to get hurt?”

“Or Worse.”

“Nervous that I don’t know what I’m getting into?”

“Obviously.”

Noah begins to nod his head and then shakes his head in disbelief.

“Now all of a sudden you’re worried? What because I’m your son now? Now you can’t live with the fact that I might end up with a career shorter than the length of Kenzi’s movie career? Or the fact that you don’t think I can survive in it? What do you think I’m soft now all because you’re my Dad?”

Noah throws his hands up and lets them fall to his side.

“I thought by now you would know better than that. I didn’t agree to be your partner because you were possibly my Dad, I did it because you are one of the sickest cunts on the planet. I did it because you asked. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be asked to team with a Legend? No you don’t cunt. Even if you weren’t my Dad, I’d still run through a brick wall for this team… Would you?”

I take a moment to compose myself.

“Noah, of course. I wouldn’t take down the entire XWF for us, but that’s not the issue right now. The main issue we are facing is simple. One of us is going to be changed forever after this match. I’ve been through one and let me tell you, it’s not for the faint of heart. You leave a piece of yourself in the arena that night. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night with cold sweats. Noah I’m not worried about you in this match as my Son. I’m worried about you as a human.”

“That’s bullshite and you know it….”

“Noah, it sounds cool, and it’s all fun and games until that gate locks.” I stand up and walk up to Noah. “Then nothing else is ever the same. You’re not fighting just to win, it’s survival. If you can WALK out of the ring when it’s done, that’s a huge victory.”

“Sounds sick. I can’t wait to show you…”

“No you’re not showing me anything. I’m near the end of my career, your’s is just beginning. Why else would I drag you to the top basically kicking and screaming? Why else would I shine a spotlight on you more often than myself? Noah, you’re the future, I’m just an old man running out of time.”

Noah looks flabbergasted, and almost heartbroken.

“What are you saying?”

I take a deep sigh.

“I guess what I’m saying is…” I pause for a moment. I watch Noah as he is eagerly awaiting what I’m about to say. “ I had you going there for a moment.”

“Fuck off cunt!”

“Don’t talk to me like that… I’m your Father.”

“You’ve got a long way to go before you can play that card.”

I laugh a little bit.

“You’re right. But seriously, I want you to know that this isn’t just another match. I’ve had your back since day one of this journey, and you’ve had mine. Nothing was going to change that. Not a single fucking thing on this planet was going to keep us from getting those titles. I need to know right now that you are willing to do whatever it takes to get the win…Also why do I have the sudden urge to call Tara Reid?”

“We went on Maury twice cunt… If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know, and I don’t know why you would call her...”

“Again, you’re right. We’ve screamed from the mountain tops that those titles were stolen from under us. We have fought to put ourselves in a position to get them. We have fought to make our mark on this business. Not just my name, but yours now as well. Noah are you ready to become the XWF Tag Team Champions?”

“You know it Cunt…”

“Are you ready to become a dominant factor in the XWF now?”

“I was born ready.”

“Noah at Cuntfest, we etch our name in the history books. They will never be able to take away what we will accomplish when the curtain closes on Sunday. 2019 ended with me beating the piss out of Sarah, 2020 begins with us ascending to the top of the food chain. Noah… It’s time for us to put our stamp on the industry.”

Noah leaps up as we do our super secret handshake. The camera fades with both of us cracking open a couple of VB’s.

The Afterthought

The time for talking is almost over. We are vastly approaching the night where Noah and I take our rightful place atop the XWF, all while ridding the XWF of Kenzi and Sar all in one fell swoop. There are a few other things I’m going to address before we get to the heart of the matter, so let’s start there shall we.

Fuck you, Robert Main. Keep my fucking name out of your mouth. No a single fucking person asked you to say anything about me, yet there you are once again talking about ME. I don’t care if you think saying the word Cunt is passé, and maybe you’re right but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get to some people still. I mean just look at all the management here in the XWF. Not a single one of them will say the real name of the show, so yes passé, but the point remains. Also saying I won Lethal Lottery because neither one of you were in it? Ask Page, I’ve beaten him one on one, and since you and I have never had the pleasure, I’m going to assume that you wouldn’t be an issue. Sure you were the Universal champion for such a long time without any real challengers, yes I’m including Page in there. So please for the sake of everyone, please just shut the fuck up.

There are approximately 3.8 billion women on this planet, yet there are just two that I can’t seem to stop running into. Just two that have finally decided to show up for a title defense.

Wait what? Are you kidding me?

You’re honestly telling me that there is a more than zero percent chance that they still might not show up? That they might get caught in some bullshittery? Anything for them to avoid Noah and I, if the shoe fits, I guess. That’s just it isn’t it. Ever since they won the titles they have done everything to avoid us. That’s not just hearsay, that’s a fact. All of a sudden I have a claim to their titles and Kenzi fucks off for two months, only to come back and face Big D and Ned. Seriously? Then Lethal Lottery happened and we couldn’t go after the titles, but now… Now in Helldome, they can’t run anymore.

Not for lack of trying though.

It isn’t by chance that Noah and I are both competing twice tomorrow night. We knew what we were getting into, you don’t just prance into Helldome, you need to be ready and primed for it, so a match a few hours beforehand is just what you need. While the both of you will be worrying about what’s going to happen, we have to concentrate on keeping our respective titles around our waists, then we have to commentate the show, and then we step into Helldome.

There is no time for us to stop and worry. All there is, is forward momentum. This match is just a continuation of the night for us, but you’re too busy worrying about WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, we are focusing on what’s GOING TO HAPPEN.

So make all your little jokes about us, call me a bitch because your friend got clipped on twitter. That wasn’t me by the way, but if that’s what is going to give you the drive and effort, fine. Say Noah only days one vulgar word?

What?

And of course the Brackets. Oh how I bitched and moaned about them constantly right?

What?

Sure did. I didn’t happen to see anyone else worrying about their placement in the “tournament”. It wasn’t listed as a Lethal Lottery style layout. It was listed as a tournament, you know something structured not just the whims of management.

What?

It’s as if you you want to lose the titles so Kenzi can fuck off to the other place, while you go after Corey. Cool. Wait. Lux… No Engineer now. Sorry, it’s difficult to sometimes keep which personality he is this week.

So yes while I am waiting for my opportunity, if I were you I wouldn’t hold my fucking breath. Everyone knows everything that I have said in regards to management keeping you happy. You deny it, then good things happen for you without your intent. Weird how it seems everything dealing with you has to placate you in some way. Gotta keep Sarah happy.

I really must commend you guys on how important you think you are to the world. Really me as the First Husband? Sounds nice in theory, but not for me. There’s too much dirt on me in the past, it would basically guarantee that a Presidential run for anyone associated with me would lose in monumental fashion.

I do look good in that office, but alas that is all just a figment of your imagination. You aren’t really that relevant to my life in the grand scheme of things. Sure I’ve bitched and moaned about you two for what seems like months now, but when we are done, we’re done. There is no grandiose butterfly effect in play here. This isn’t what the future would be, this is simply put reality.

The reality is at Cuntfest Noah and I are going to bet the shot out of you for hours on end, hey you got something right. Why hours? Our show. Our rules. Long after all the fans have left the fairgrounds, the both of you will still be getting your teeth jammed down your throat. I’m going to jam Kenzi so far up Sarah’s ass, that when Sarah talks you’ll be able to tell what Kenzi has for breakfast.

The both of you have done some good things here in the XWF. Kudos for that, you’ve played the game well, and to your own favor. The games are over. Vinny and Theo and James and SBW, and Atticus can’t save you now. The absolute worst thing that could’ve possibly happened for the both of you was me winning Lethal Lottery. The second my hand was raised I knew what match I was going to book myself in.

I knew right then we were going to end this rivalry once and for all. Sure the idea of going after Engy was alluring, but I'm the one person who is on a quest to close all of the doors I’ve left open in the past. So next up is…. well maybe I won’t spoil that for you, but we are effectively done. That is unless somehow we end up losing…

Then that’s just another door left open that will need to be closed at a later date.

Yet I don’t plan on that happening, Noah doesn’t plan on that happening. I want the both of you to understand something very relevant to all of this…

No matter how much I claim it is, this wasn’t done by destiny. This was months and months of my hard work. My blood, my sweat. This was me making my own destiny. You two were just along for the ride. This won’t be the last time we cross paths, I can guarantee that. When this is all over, and the dust has settled in the ring regardless of who is victorious. I want you to know that I chose to do this. I set out to make this happen. Just like Ned, I Chose you. You can come up with all the funny little parody direct to DVD movies all you want. When you realize that was all for not, I want you to despise me. I want you to want me dead. I want you to hate me.

And if you don’t?

Maybe you should.



Just like those Marvel Movies, yet again another post credit scene. Noah is still above the moon over the revelation that I was his father. He stops dead in his tracks and turns towards me.

“Dad have you given it any thought about if you want to see mum?”

I scratch my beard, and rub the bridge of my nose.

“Noah I told you, not my call.”

He excitedly slaps me on the shoulder.

“Well she said if you want to, we are more than welcome over there, and since we are in ‘Stralia already I figured why not. After we win all the gold, we can go see mum.”

“Okay.”

“You okay pops? I mean I saw your second promo for the Mafia and you didn’t even mention their second ones at all… you feeling okay?”

“Yup, right as rain. Last time Sarah gave me shit about talking about the second promos, so this time around I didn’t even watch them. I’m pretty sure they just said the same shit they always do.”

Noah nods in agreement.

“So Mum’s tomorrow?”

“You got it kid.”


]]> <![CDATA[One Door: Attention Nedward]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36019 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 20:37:19 -0800 Shawn Warstein]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36019



“You’re back? That was a quick change of heart…”

What the hell? Why am I back here, I haven’t done anything to change my mind. I have no conflicts I need to resolve. I made my choice, and I’m happy with it. Sure not everyone is going to understand why I did what I did, but that’s life. Some people are going to like it, while others will be in awe of what I did. Certain things that I have chosen can no longer be undone. Things that have been said can’t be taken back, and I’m at peace with that.

“Why? Just why am I here again?”

“I don’t get it. You chose and you left ... wait how do you remember here?”

“I don’t know, I just do.”[/color[color=white] I shrugged. “Last time you had two doors. The last thing I remember is walking though, then I went to Noah’s. I agreed to another paternity test. I got a little drunk off of some whiskey, and now I’m here.”

The hooded man turns around, and opens his hands for a moment.

But nothing happens.

“That’s not right…” Puzzled the man looks around and sees nothing. “They were both just right here. Just a second ago, right before you showed back up.”

“Well obviously you were mistaken, because I don’t see shit.”

I climb to my feet, and steady myself. I feel a throbbing in the back of my head.

“How did I get here again?”

The hooded man snaps his fingers, and a bright light flashes in front of the two of us. I shield my eyes, as I can hear Noah.



“What a stupid cunt!” Noah exclaims while leaning back in his computer chair. “Dad… Come look at this fucking tool on the internet.”

I walk into the room and glance over Noah’s shoulder.

“What are you watching?”

“Twitch.” Noah states as if I have any clue as to what that is.

“What’s that?”

“How old are you?” I know he’s just joking but that hurt a little bit. I’m not that old, but I’ve been a little bit busy to concern myself with what’s going on in terms of the internet.

“Just get on with it…”

“It’s a site where people can stream themselves playing video games and such. It’s a type of social media.”

“Like MySpace?” Okay, maybe I am slightly older than I lead on. I’m still under forty, but I'll admit I’m much closer to 40 than I am to thirty.

“Seriously… How old are you?”

“So what’s the deal?”

“Look.”

“Oh shit… is that?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I needed Noah just to verify what I was actually seeing.

“Yup.” There it was, Ned needing to put himself out there for the entire world, well 450 people. For someone who was soooo popular on the indy’s that’s all he could muster? Seems like someone was lying when they were talking about how important they were outside of the XWF’s walls.

“What’s he playing?”

“Some stupid fucking single player game. He talked about you. I can show you if you want.” Growing up all games were single player, but now it’s all about multiplayer. I’ll never understand the way kids today think.

“Yeah sure why the hell not.”

Noah begins to scrub the video and finds a few clips. He hits play on them as I sit there just watching. I don’t even crack a smile.

“That’s it?” It sounded exactly how I thought it was going to sound. Someone who is clearly in over their head. I’m starting to feel bad for the kid.

“Apparently.”

“What can we do…. Wait what’s your screen name?”

“FuzzFann9100” Of course that’s his name, I wonder how many accounts he has on this site? This clearly isn’t his only one.

“Wait what’s going on?”

“YES!!! It Worked!! Ohhh shit… he’s going to be fucking famous.” Noah leaps for his chair and begins to celebrate as if he just won the fucking Super Bowl. Fist pumping, the whole array of celebrations.

“Is that a SWAT team?”

The camera abruptly shuts off. Either that or Noah turned off the monitor. Noah spins around in his chair.

“That’s what he gets for talking shit…”

“I don’t think he was talking shit… That was more of an attempt at flatterly. I don’t get it… We are about to fight for my title, and that’s the weak shit he comes up with? Is this going to be that easy?”

“Well, you missed all of the really good stuff.”

“Noah can’t they trace that shit back to you?”

“Nah, I’ve got that all covered. I’ve got so much internet protections, I could buy and sell hundreds of kilos of heroin and they would think Vin did it. We are good.”

“Is he going to make it to Cuntfest?”

*Shrug*

“Well that’s not what we want.”

“Why not? I mean think about it. If he doesn’t show up, not only do you get the win, but you’re still fresh for the Helldome. Why else do you think I picked a water fight with Atara?”

“You’re not wrong, but that isn’t the way that we want to go about this. I chose him because I knew he’d put up a fight, but not too much of one. I’m going to plenty fresh for the Helldome. I mean that is if I don’t decide to cash in…”

“Say what Cunt?” Noah stood up and began to look around the room frantically.

“Yeah. I might cash in.”

“No Cunt! You can’t. I need you for the Mafia.”

“You’re not wrong, but let’s be honest. How fucking sick would be if at the end of the night we were standing there, You, Vita, and Myself WITH EVERY TITLE.”

“Yeah sick, but not going to happen. I mean you’re a legend, but I’m not sure you understand what’s at stake…”

“Yeah Noah I do. Everything. I didn’t run from Engy, I have him where I want him…”

“But what about me? What about the Sick Cunts?”

“You think I’m just going to walk away from that?” I can understand why he’s worried. I know what happens when I go after the Universal title. Everything and every person gets pushed to the side.

“Yeah. I know everything there is to know about you. You can’t just walk away from everything we’ve built…”

“We?”

“Oh Fuck You!”

It didn’t take much to set Noah off. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. The last thing I saw was his fist flying towards my jaw. I felt my neck snap, and fell backwards. It felt like slow motion. That’s where I opened my eyes in the Darkness.



“That MOTHER FUCKER!”

“You’re going to want to calm down.”

“You can shut the fuck up too! You need to get those fucking doors back here right fucking now!”

“Just look, it’s right there.”

I turn around and there is only one door there. I take a step towards it. Every step I take towards it, it slides back. Frustrated I look at the man. He shrugs his shoulders and begins to follow me. I reach for the door. My fingertips are inches away. Sometimes my finger will graze the knob, but I can’t grab it. Finally I open the door.

There I stood with the X-Treme title, and the Tag Team titles, as Noah appears in the doorway.

“Where’s the other one?”

“Gone.”

“What are you…”

BAM.

The man grabs the back of my head and slams it into the door frame. I get on all fours. When I’m kicked in the stomach, over and over again. I can taste the iron in my mouth, I spit out blood. I grab his foot, but am quickly stomped in the throat.

“You stupid fuck… This is what you need.”

I get kicked in the temple and fall flat to the ground in a heap. I struggle to keep my eyes open. My vision is blurred. I watch as the man walks towards the door.

“This is where you NEED to be. There are people who now RELY upon you. Yet you are willing to just let them falter without you? How fucking selfish are you? He’s by your side and you’re willing to drop him for what? A title you’ve already had?”

I try to say something, but as I try.

“If you won’t do it… Then I will.”

I reach my hand out, as I watch the man walk through the door. In a blink of an eye, he and the door were gone. My hand falls to the ground as I roll over to my back and just stare off into the black.

The Afterthought

So that’s all you’ve got for me? I thought you were going to at least put up some sort of an actual fight. I saw what you said, and there really isn’t much for me to go attack. I guess that could be some sort of a way to keep me from actually going hard at you, but that isn't going to work. I went hard on you without you saying one fucking word. Do you really think that need you to say anything of importance to tear you apart? I didn’t think so. However I will actually take that weak shit you’ve flung my way and respond.

I mean first and foremost, even your own fans don’t think you stand a chance. I mean sure they are all a bunch of homophobic assholes, but they all are saying the same shit I’ve been saying this entire time. You don’t stand a virgin’s chance on a porn set.

Sure I know that there isn’t a single person on this planet that isn’t going to be as hard on you as yourself….

Guess what? That’s everyone in this fucking industry. If people didn’t constantly try to better themselves then what the fuck is the point? Like seriously my biggest critic is myself. I go over everything like a fine tooth comb, but at a certain point you have to get into the ring and just get the job done. Which you haven’t done in quite a long time, or even ever in my eyes. You had all the momentum here, yet you couldn’t scrounge up one title win? For someone who claims to be an indy sensation, I expected more from you. A person with that much history behind them should be able to go anywhere in the world and make a statement, but the only statement you’ve made here is…

“I almost won.”

Ned I don’t think your boring. I think you’re from a bygone era. In 2003 you would’ve been… Well still garbage. I don’t give a fuck if you have as much personality of paint chips, the fact that you suck in the ring is what people don’t like about you. Being blander than toast is just the cherry on the top of the sundae. I’ve seen boring people climb to the top, but they had something you don’t. A killer instinct. If I would’ve challenged them, they would’ve come out firing first. They at least had the common sense to know that you have to strike first against me. The worst thing that you did was allowing me to take the first shot.

That was just a warning shot. Now? I’m aiming right for the chest. I was going to let you get off easy, but then I was reminded that I could just as easily stomp you to the point where your own mother wouldn’t be able to identify the body.

After watching that “promo” I need to ask you one single question…

Are you trying to suck my dick? You do realize that you’re supposed to talk bad about me right? It’s not supposed to a fucking love letter. Sure, you’re right about a lot of what you said. I do make the difficult decisions when it comes to keeping myself relevant. I don’t care what people think of me. Sometimes I have to bad things to continue to move forward.

And that’s a big difference between the two of us. You don’t have that in you. You’d much rather everyone like you, kind of like Vinny, and that’s where you’ll always fail. This business has no room for nice guys. You need to be able to fight and make those tough decisions. I don’t think… Wait.

No.

I know you don’t have what it takes. I know what I am. I don’t hide from it. I was once like you. I was a beacon of hope for the XWF. I had everyone on my side. Do you know where that got me? Fucking Nowhere. I know who I am. I don’t think for one second that I am invincible. I am just a man, and I am fallible. I know that I am not perfect in any sense of the word, but compared to you I am a GOD.

Yet everyone gets one thing twisted. I don’t think I am overlooked, and I am no way an Afterthought in the XWF. I know that I am now at the top of the food chain. Since no one knows where that moniker comes from it’s simply put…

When I come back from my extended absences…

I am an Afterthought to the XWF.

Then I follow the steps and get back to the top where I will always be remembered. So before you call me out my Moniker, know the fucking story behind it. What about your’s? Notorious? For what? What have you done to be so noteworthy? What have you done to earn that? Usually that moniker is for people who have a personality. So either you lost yours when you got here, or you were like every kid thinking they were being edge-lord. Either way… it’s pathetic.

Speaking of pathetic…

Your partner can tell you everything you need to know about getting into the ring with me. Twice. Thrice if you count Noah. You’re not about to change the fate of Daniel, but you sure as hell can try. He did too, and that didn’t work out for him. So while you want to talk about people taking off weeks?

OKAY?

You do realize that on MULTIPLE occasions I was on Anarchy, Warfare and Savage on the same loop? And I have someone to pick up the slack? Moron he has his own title to worry about to be concerned with what I’m doing. We were both too busy beating Big D like an old rug to worry about what the other was doing. So what were you saying about being here week in and week out? That’s right, once again talking right out of your ass.

Yet Ned the biggest thing that was said as and attack towards me wasn’t even by you. It was by Robert Main claiming that you were destined for titles here in the XWF and that’s why you were invited into Apex, and again that was just because I said you didn’t deserve to be in the same breath as everyone else in Apex.

And right there he proved my point for me. You are DESTINED for titles, yet even with your association with Apex you couldn’t even get a sniff at one. So are you the failure or was Apex in your ‘grooming’ process? Maybe you should’ve said no and went out on your own, because now all you’re ever going to be compared to them.

That’s not where someone like you needs to be.

I gave you an opportunity to fight for a title. Did anyone else? When Big D won this title did he offer you a match? What about Centurion? Engy? No. I did. I saw something in you that made me think you and I could make some money. It’s just too bad that I was wrong…

Oh well…

I always have a second match to break a sweat in.

]]>



“You’re back? That was a quick change of heart…”

What the hell? Why am I back here, I haven’t done anything to change my mind. I have no conflicts I need to resolve. I made my choice, and I’m happy with it. Sure not everyone is going to understand why I did what I did, but that’s life. Some people are going to like it, while others will be in awe of what I did. Certain things that I have chosen can no longer be undone. Things that have been said can’t be taken back, and I’m at peace with that.

“Why? Just why am I here again?”

“I don’t get it. You chose and you left ... wait how do you remember here?”

“I don’t know, I just do.”[/color[color=white] I shrugged. “Last time you had two doors. The last thing I remember is walking though, then I went to Noah’s. I agreed to another paternity test. I got a little drunk off of some whiskey, and now I’m here.”

The hooded man turns around, and opens his hands for a moment.

But nothing happens.

“That’s not right…” Puzzled the man looks around and sees nothing. “They were both just right here. Just a second ago, right before you showed back up.”

“Well obviously you were mistaken, because I don’t see shit.”

I climb to my feet, and steady myself. I feel a throbbing in the back of my head.

“How did I get here again?”

The hooded man snaps his fingers, and a bright light flashes in front of the two of us. I shield my eyes, as I can hear Noah.



“What a stupid cunt!” Noah exclaims while leaning back in his computer chair. “Dad… Come look at this fucking tool on the internet.”

I walk into the room and glance over Noah’s shoulder.

“What are you watching?”

“Twitch.” Noah states as if I have any clue as to what that is.

“What’s that?”

“How old are you?” I know he’s just joking but that hurt a little bit. I’m not that old, but I’ve been a little bit busy to concern myself with what’s going on in terms of the internet.

“Just get on with it…”

“It’s a site where people can stream themselves playing video games and such. It’s a type of social media.”

“Like MySpace?” Okay, maybe I am slightly older than I lead on. I’m still under forty, but I'll admit I’m much closer to 40 than I am to thirty.

“Seriously… How old are you?”

“So what’s the deal?”

“Look.”

“Oh shit… is that?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I needed Noah just to verify what I was actually seeing.

“Yup.” There it was, Ned needing to put himself out there for the entire world, well 450 people. For someone who was soooo popular on the indy’s that’s all he could muster? Seems like someone was lying when they were talking about how important they were outside of the XWF’s walls.

“What’s he playing?”

“Some stupid fucking single player game. He talked about you. I can show you if you want.” Growing up all games were single player, but now it’s all about multiplayer. I’ll never understand the way kids today think.

“Yeah sure why the hell not.”

Noah begins to scrub the video and finds a few clips. He hits play on them as I sit there just watching. I don’t even crack a smile.

“That’s it?” It sounded exactly how I thought it was going to sound. Someone who is clearly in over their head. I’m starting to feel bad for the kid.

“Apparently.”

“What can we do…. Wait what’s your screen name?”

“FuzzFann9100” Of course that’s his name, I wonder how many accounts he has on this site? This clearly isn’t his only one.

“Wait what’s going on?”

“YES!!! It Worked!! Ohhh shit… he’s going to be fucking famous.” Noah leaps for his chair and begins to celebrate as if he just won the fucking Super Bowl. Fist pumping, the whole array of celebrations.

“Is that a SWAT team?”

The camera abruptly shuts off. Either that or Noah turned off the monitor. Noah spins around in his chair.

“That’s what he gets for talking shit…”

“I don’t think he was talking shit… That was more of an attempt at flatterly. I don’t get it… We are about to fight for my title, and that’s the weak shit he comes up with? Is this going to be that easy?”

“Well, you missed all of the really good stuff.”

“Noah can’t they trace that shit back to you?”

“Nah, I’ve got that all covered. I’ve got so much internet protections, I could buy and sell hundreds of kilos of heroin and they would think Vin did it. We are good.”

“Is he going to make it to Cuntfest?”

*Shrug*

“Well that’s not what we want.”

“Why not? I mean think about it. If he doesn’t show up, not only do you get the win, but you’re still fresh for the Helldome. Why else do you think I picked a water fight with Atara?”

“You’re not wrong, but that isn’t the way that we want to go about this. I chose him because I knew he’d put up a fight, but not too much of one. I’m going to plenty fresh for the Helldome. I mean that is if I don’t decide to cash in…”

“Say what Cunt?” Noah stood up and began to look around the room frantically.

“Yeah. I might cash in.”

“No Cunt! You can’t. I need you for the Mafia.”

“You’re not wrong, but let’s be honest. How fucking sick would be if at the end of the night we were standing there, You, Vita, and Myself WITH EVERY TITLE.”

“Yeah sick, but not going to happen. I mean you’re a legend, but I’m not sure you understand what’s at stake…”

“Yeah Noah I do. Everything. I didn’t run from Engy, I have him where I want him…”

“But what about me? What about the Sick Cunts?”

“You think I’m just going to walk away from that?” I can understand why he’s worried. I know what happens when I go after the Universal title. Everything and every person gets pushed to the side.

“Yeah. I know everything there is to know about you. You can’t just walk away from everything we’ve built…”

“We?”

“Oh Fuck You!”

It didn’t take much to set Noah off. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. The last thing I saw was his fist flying towards my jaw. I felt my neck snap, and fell backwards. It felt like slow motion. That’s where I opened my eyes in the Darkness.



“That MOTHER FUCKER!”

“You’re going to want to calm down.”

“You can shut the fuck up too! You need to get those fucking doors back here right fucking now!”

“Just look, it’s right there.”

I turn around and there is only one door there. I take a step towards it. Every step I take towards it, it slides back. Frustrated I look at the man. He shrugs his shoulders and begins to follow me. I reach for the door. My fingertips are inches away. Sometimes my finger will graze the knob, but I can’t grab it. Finally I open the door.

There I stood with the X-Treme title, and the Tag Team titles, as Noah appears in the doorway.

“Where’s the other one?”

“Gone.”

“What are you…”

BAM.

The man grabs the back of my head and slams it into the door frame. I get on all fours. When I’m kicked in the stomach, over and over again. I can taste the iron in my mouth, I spit out blood. I grab his foot, but am quickly stomped in the throat.

“You stupid fuck… This is what you need.”

I get kicked in the temple and fall flat to the ground in a heap. I struggle to keep my eyes open. My vision is blurred. I watch as the man walks towards the door.

“This is where you NEED to be. There are people who now RELY upon you. Yet you are willing to just let them falter without you? How fucking selfish are you? He’s by your side and you’re willing to drop him for what? A title you’ve already had?”

I try to say something, but as I try.

“If you won’t do it… Then I will.”

I reach my hand out, as I watch the man walk through the door. In a blink of an eye, he and the door were gone. My hand falls to the ground as I roll over to my back and just stare off into the black.

The Afterthought

So that’s all you’ve got for me? I thought you were going to at least put up some sort of an actual fight. I saw what you said, and there really isn’t much for me to go attack. I guess that could be some sort of a way to keep me from actually going hard at you, but that isn't going to work. I went hard on you without you saying one fucking word. Do you really think that need you to say anything of importance to tear you apart? I didn’t think so. However I will actually take that weak shit you’ve flung my way and respond.

I mean first and foremost, even your own fans don’t think you stand a chance. I mean sure they are all a bunch of homophobic assholes, but they all are saying the same shit I’ve been saying this entire time. You don’t stand a virgin’s chance on a porn set.

Sure I know that there isn’t a single person on this planet that isn’t going to be as hard on you as yourself….

Guess what? That’s everyone in this fucking industry. If people didn’t constantly try to better themselves then what the fuck is the point? Like seriously my biggest critic is myself. I go over everything like a fine tooth comb, but at a certain point you have to get into the ring and just get the job done. Which you haven’t done in quite a long time, or even ever in my eyes. You had all the momentum here, yet you couldn’t scrounge up one title win? For someone who claims to be an indy sensation, I expected more from you. A person with that much history behind them should be able to go anywhere in the world and make a statement, but the only statement you’ve made here is…

“I almost won.”

Ned I don’t think your boring. I think you’re from a bygone era. In 2003 you would’ve been… Well still garbage. I don’t give a fuck if you have as much personality of paint chips, the fact that you suck in the ring is what people don’t like about you. Being blander than toast is just the cherry on the top of the sundae. I’ve seen boring people climb to the top, but they had something you don’t. A killer instinct. If I would’ve challenged them, they would’ve come out firing first. They at least had the common sense to know that you have to strike first against me. The worst thing that you did was allowing me to take the first shot.

That was just a warning shot. Now? I’m aiming right for the chest. I was going to let you get off easy, but then I was reminded that I could just as easily stomp you to the point where your own mother wouldn’t be able to identify the body.

After watching that “promo” I need to ask you one single question…

Are you trying to suck my dick? You do realize that you’re supposed to talk bad about me right? It’s not supposed to a fucking love letter. Sure, you’re right about a lot of what you said. I do make the difficult decisions when it comes to keeping myself relevant. I don’t care what people think of me. Sometimes I have to bad things to continue to move forward.

And that’s a big difference between the two of us. You don’t have that in you. You’d much rather everyone like you, kind of like Vinny, and that’s where you’ll always fail. This business has no room for nice guys. You need to be able to fight and make those tough decisions. I don’t think… Wait.

No.

I know you don’t have what it takes. I know what I am. I don’t hide from it. I was once like you. I was a beacon of hope for the XWF. I had everyone on my side. Do you know where that got me? Fucking Nowhere. I know who I am. I don’t think for one second that I am invincible. I am just a man, and I am fallible. I know that I am not perfect in any sense of the word, but compared to you I am a GOD.

Yet everyone gets one thing twisted. I don’t think I am overlooked, and I am no way an Afterthought in the XWF. I know that I am now at the top of the food chain. Since no one knows where that moniker comes from it’s simply put…

When I come back from my extended absences…

I am an Afterthought to the XWF.

Then I follow the steps and get back to the top where I will always be remembered. So before you call me out my Moniker, know the fucking story behind it. What about your’s? Notorious? For what? What have you done to be so noteworthy? What have you done to earn that? Usually that moniker is for people who have a personality. So either you lost yours when you got here, or you were like every kid thinking they were being edge-lord. Either way… it’s pathetic.

Speaking of pathetic…

Your partner can tell you everything you need to know about getting into the ring with me. Twice. Thrice if you count Noah. You’re not about to change the fate of Daniel, but you sure as hell can try. He did too, and that didn’t work out for him. So while you want to talk about people taking off weeks?

OKAY?

You do realize that on MULTIPLE occasions I was on Anarchy, Warfare and Savage on the same loop? And I have someone to pick up the slack? Moron he has his own title to worry about to be concerned with what I’m doing. We were both too busy beating Big D like an old rug to worry about what the other was doing. So what were you saying about being here week in and week out? That’s right, once again talking right out of your ass.

Yet Ned the biggest thing that was said as and attack towards me wasn’t even by you. It was by Robert Main claiming that you were destined for titles here in the XWF and that’s why you were invited into Apex, and again that was just because I said you didn’t deserve to be in the same breath as everyone else in Apex.

And right there he proved my point for me. You are DESTINED for titles, yet even with your association with Apex you couldn’t even get a sniff at one. So are you the failure or was Apex in your ‘grooming’ process? Maybe you should’ve said no and went out on your own, because now all you’re ever going to be compared to them.

That’s not where someone like you needs to be.

I gave you an opportunity to fight for a title. Did anyone else? When Big D won this title did he offer you a match? What about Centurion? Engy? No. I did. I saw something in you that made me think you and I could make some money. It’s just too bad that I was wrong…

Oh well…

I always have a second match to break a sweat in.

]]> <![CDATA[Wait... Is this for the Subaru? You bet your ass it is...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36018 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 20:33:29 -0800 Shawn Warstein]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36018 “Well Noah here we are….”

They pull up to a building that looks to be long since abandoned. We both get out with puzzled expressions on faces, each for a different reason.

“Real funny cunt... What are you playing at?”

“No seriously, I called them and left a message earlier this week… There was nothing on their machine that said they were closed.”

“Permanently it would seem.”

“Yeah but now what are we going to do.”

“What were we going to do here anyways.”

“You ever hear of a show called ‘Pimp My Ride’?”

“With Xzibit? Yeah I was born in Australia, not under a fucking rock. But why were we coming here?”

“Well I was going to pay for the Subaru to get all pimped out, and show ready to beat the piss out of…. What was his name again?”

“Red something…”

“Red-X… “

“So what are we going to do now?”

“The only thing fitting for a new Father and Son Tandem….”

“Don’t say it…”

“Pimp my ride Montage starring the two of us!

Fuzz looks right in the camera.

“Let's do this!”



The camera quickly cuts to a run down garage with Noah and Fuzz standing there in coveralls. Noah is swinging a wrench in his hand, while I lean up against the Subaru.

“Ok everyone, Noah and I just finished the Suabru. Let's show you some highlights of the work that got done.”

The camera begins to run roll of Noah and Fuzz tearing apart the Suabru. The hood is ripped off and flung to the side. Noah smashes some of the windows out with a hammer. Fuzz pulls out the driver's seat. All in all, the car is a complete wreck. It’s a far cry from the car that’s sitting next to them in the opening shot. The camera cuts back to Noah.

“Yeah, so obviously we have no idea how to work on a fucking car. So what we did was…”

“I went out and bought a brand new-ish Subaru. Slightly used. It only has 300k miles on it. It’s all the same color. But we were able to add a few things to it to make it special for Cuntfest. Noah show the people what we did special just for Red-X.”

“Gladly.”

Noah walks up to the car and opens the door, the camera comes in from the other side of the car.

“Check this sick shit out…”

Noah flips a switch on the center console, as LEDs begin shine on the ceiling and begins to bounce around in a rhythmic fashion.

“Yeah that’s not all, check the outside as well…”

The camera pulls out, and notices the lights are outside the vehicle as well. Firing lights in all directions. Until one shines right in the camera’s lens causing the camera to spaz out for a moment, and when it refocuses Fuzz is standing there smiling.

“Right you are Noah, this is Sick as Fuck. Those lights will blind anyone stupid enough to get within arms length of the car, and it was really simple to install. Just bought the kit from Best Buy and boom twenty minutes later blinding douche bag lights. Now onto one of the main features of the car. Noah… if you could please.”

Noah gets out of the car and peeks his head up from the other side.

“Are you sure it’s going to work?”

“Yup.”

Noah walks around the outside of the car and grabs a hammer. Then he slams the hammer into the passenger side window. The hammer bounces off, as Noah recoils and attempts again. Once again the window withstands the punishment.

“Those are shatter proof windows. It cost me a little bit of extra cash, but I think it’s all worth it in the end. There isn’t a single thing at Cuntfest that could possibly break that glass…”

“What about the gun for Shane?”

“Yeah forgot to tell you, that’s a no go, I did have some knives put out there for them instead.”

“It’s not the same. Anyways what else did we do to this car?”

“That’s right, this bitch is mobile as well.”

“Duh it’s a car.”

“Obviously, but I also spent some extra cash on this. The car is completely remote controlled. You didn’t think I was just going to have the car sit there for the whole ‘fight’ did you? Nah, Noah or myself will be able to move the car forward or backwards depending on the situation. Unfortunately we didn’t get turning.”

Noah pulls out the controller for the car. It looks exactly how you think it would. Large, over engineered and lit up like a christmas tree. Noah pushes the joystick forward as the car responds. He pulls it back and it follows.

“With that we will be able to control the car from a safe distance. We can’t have Red-X’s blood on us, we’ve got a real match to prepare for.”

“Come on Dad, let me show them the best thing in the whole car.”

“What the spikes that come out of the tires when you press that button?”

“No it’s better than that.”

“Or the spoiler in the back that will spin like a helicopter when you press that button?”

“Nope.”

“Well which button then? They all do something different.”

“This one…”

Noah points to a large red button on the backside of the controller.

“Go ahead. The entire world will see what happens anyway…”

Noah gets a giddy smile on his face as his finger hovers over the button. Then as if it was in slow motion he presses the button.


Nothing.

Noah flips the controller over and begins to hammer the button over and over again.

Until


Finally.

“La Cucaracha” begins to blare out of the horn.

Then just as quickly as it started it stopped. As Noah can be heard through the horn.

“ You Just Lost to a Fucking inanimate fucking object!”

Both men smile as the camera fades.

]]> “Well Noah here we are….”

They pull up to a building that looks to be long since abandoned. We both get out with puzzled expressions on faces, each for a different reason.

“Real funny cunt... What are you playing at?”

“No seriously, I called them and left a message earlier this week… There was nothing on their machine that said they were closed.”

“Permanently it would seem.”

“Yeah but now what are we going to do.”

“What were we going to do here anyways.”

“You ever hear of a show called ‘Pimp My Ride’?”

“With Xzibit? Yeah I was born in Australia, not under a fucking rock. But why were we coming here?”

“Well I was going to pay for the Subaru to get all pimped out, and show ready to beat the piss out of…. What was his name again?”

“Red something…”

“Red-X… “

“So what are we going to do now?”

“The only thing fitting for a new Father and Son Tandem….”

“Don’t say it…”

“Pimp my ride Montage starring the two of us!

Fuzz looks right in the camera.

“Let's do this!”



The camera quickly cuts to a run down garage with Noah and Fuzz standing there in coveralls. Noah is swinging a wrench in his hand, while I lean up against the Subaru.

“Ok everyone, Noah and I just finished the Suabru. Let's show you some highlights of the work that got done.”

The camera begins to run roll of Noah and Fuzz tearing apart the Suabru. The hood is ripped off and flung to the side. Noah smashes some of the windows out with a hammer. Fuzz pulls out the driver's seat. All in all, the car is a complete wreck. It’s a far cry from the car that’s sitting next to them in the opening shot. The camera cuts back to Noah.

“Yeah, so obviously we have no idea how to work on a fucking car. So what we did was…”

“I went out and bought a brand new-ish Subaru. Slightly used. It only has 300k miles on it. It’s all the same color. But we were able to add a few things to it to make it special for Cuntfest. Noah show the people what we did special just for Red-X.”

“Gladly.”

Noah walks up to the car and opens the door, the camera comes in from the other side of the car.

“Check this sick shit out…”

Noah flips a switch on the center console, as LEDs begin shine on the ceiling and begins to bounce around in a rhythmic fashion.

“Yeah that’s not all, check the outside as well…”

The camera pulls out, and notices the lights are outside the vehicle as well. Firing lights in all directions. Until one shines right in the camera’s lens causing the camera to spaz out for a moment, and when it refocuses Fuzz is standing there smiling.

“Right you are Noah, this is Sick as Fuck. Those lights will blind anyone stupid enough to get within arms length of the car, and it was really simple to install. Just bought the kit from Best Buy and boom twenty minutes later blinding douche bag lights. Now onto one of the main features of the car. Noah… if you could please.”

Noah gets out of the car and peeks his head up from the other side.

“Are you sure it’s going to work?”

“Yup.”

Noah walks around the outside of the car and grabs a hammer. Then he slams the hammer into the passenger side window. The hammer bounces off, as Noah recoils and attempts again. Once again the window withstands the punishment.

“Those are shatter proof windows. It cost me a little bit of extra cash, but I think it’s all worth it in the end. There isn’t a single thing at Cuntfest that could possibly break that glass…”

“What about the gun for Shane?”

“Yeah forgot to tell you, that’s a no go, I did have some knives put out there for them instead.”

“It’s not the same. Anyways what else did we do to this car?”

“That’s right, this bitch is mobile as well.”

“Duh it’s a car.”

“Obviously, but I also spent some extra cash on this. The car is completely remote controlled. You didn’t think I was just going to have the car sit there for the whole ‘fight’ did you? Nah, Noah or myself will be able to move the car forward or backwards depending on the situation. Unfortunately we didn’t get turning.”

Noah pulls out the controller for the car. It looks exactly how you think it would. Large, over engineered and lit up like a christmas tree. Noah pushes the joystick forward as the car responds. He pulls it back and it follows.

“With that we will be able to control the car from a safe distance. We can’t have Red-X’s blood on us, we’ve got a real match to prepare for.”

“Come on Dad, let me show them the best thing in the whole car.”

“What the spikes that come out of the tires when you press that button?”

“No it’s better than that.”

“Or the spoiler in the back that will spin like a helicopter when you press that button?”

“Nope.”

“Well which button then? They all do something different.”

“This one…”

Noah points to a large red button on the backside of the controller.

“Go ahead. The entire world will see what happens anyway…”

Noah gets a giddy smile on his face as his finger hovers over the button. Then as if it was in slow motion he presses the button.


Nothing.

Noah flips the controller over and begins to hammer the button over and over again.

Until


Finally.

“La Cucaracha” begins to blare out of the horn.

Then just as quickly as it started it stopped. As Noah can be heard through the horn.

“ You Just Lost to a Fucking inanimate fucking object!”

Both men smile as the camera fades.

]]> <![CDATA[Fuck the desert]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36017 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 19:55:42 -0800 Kieran Overton]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36017 Fuck the Australian desert. Victoria, Australia. Thursday 23rd January (Off Camera)

As usual, Kieran walks with his friends of Connor who finally had time off playing Ice Hockey, Barry and Aaron in the desert known as the Great Victoria Desert. Kieran, although was a big cunt himself, wondered why Fuzz and Noah Jackson decided to go out in the desert for XWF wrestlers to wrestle. Kieran shrugged his shoulders, muttering on why he had to wrestle in a desert while walking with 6 large bottles of water on their back due to the heat in Australia.

Because Barry works with animals, he knew the reason for being here, but it was clear Kieran was completely lost with his reasons for coming down to the desert area, especially Kieran not really noticing about the fire that's happened in the desert where they were, looking confused.

Barry: “Do you not watch the news or anything?”

Kieran Overton: “No because I don't give a fuck who's dying and what's happening around the world. Why the fuck should I care about other people?”

Barry: “You know I work with animals? Well, the reason I think those two ass-kissing assholes are here is because they want to raise money for animals here. Some animals have been burnt and have died here. We at the vets have done a lot of work to get the animals what they need.”

Connor: “It's unfortunate what's happened here with the burnt debris of the animals here. Look at them, they couldn't get away in time for them to suffer like this. I'm sure it's heartbreaking for you to see this up close.”

Barry: “I'm used to putting pets down when they were in pain, but this is something else. These animals didn't deserve those fires going out of control and died due to severe burns. It breaks my heart.”

Barry stops walking and places his knee down on the ground, giving himself a tear, especially in his line of work. Kieran on the other hand, he didn't care and he still didn't, shrugging his shoulders, not caring for animals who suffer and die, but even he had the courage to pat Barry on the back, as much as he hates showing compression to another human being. Aaron was the one who said this.

Aaron: “I'm sure we understand or at least I do. So sorry you had to come here and see this due to Kieran's lack of awareness of what's happening around the world. Me and Kieran will go for a walk for a little while we'll give you some breathing room. Connor, you stay here with Barry to make sure he doesn't go off.”

Barry nods, approving of Aaron's plan as he pulls Kieran away from Barry and Connor, aggressively as they walk as far away as possible from the dead animals and as soon Aaron couldn't see Barry in the distance, he stands in the middle of a forest, saying this to him.

Aaron: “Are you fucking kidding me, Kieran?”

Kieran Overton: “What the fuck did I do? I said and done nothing.”

Aaron: “Exactly. You don't seem to give a fuck how Barry's feeling with the animals being dead and burnt, especially being a vet worker.”

Kieran Overton: “I'm a horrible asshole, you knew that before you met me. Sorry if I don't give a fuck if animals are dead, but it's difficult for me to show heart and compression when it's not in my nature to do so.”

Aaron: “That's your fucking friend there. Look, I know for you it's difficult to show heart and compression to someone, but you got to understand people's feelings. We aren't like you, we're humans, something you forget.”

Aaron was right, although Kieran shakes his head, he didn't have a brother or sister to protect in his life, he only had friends to look upon on. Suddenly, Kieran's phone went off in his pocket as he pulled it out of there and has a look on his phone, a text from his parents to state the situation he has coming home. Kieran shakes his head again.

Aaron: “You need to, no matter how hard something is. You don't have to be this caring guy in wrestling, we know that, but you shouldn't be such an asshole outside of the ring.”

Kieran Overton: “What happens if other wrestlers see me show weakness? It makes me pathetic.”

Aaron: “Who the fuck's gonna know that? Unless they are with us, they won't know a damn thing about you showing compression to your friend.”

The one thing Aaron and Kieran ignored was what's on the text. Of course, Kieran only quick glimpsed at the text, but he pulls it out to read it again, properly. It then hit Kieran after what he's been told and he shouts out quite loud after he pulls out a large 1-litre bottle of water he gulped down.

Kieran Overton: “Oh for fuck sake. I don't need this shit mum and dad.”

Aaron: “What's up?”

Kieran Overton: “They texted me about a situation they've been going in and out of a place they go to nearly every day. What I don't know, but I never cared because it has nothing to do with me.”

Aaron: “Do you think it's something that might change your life?”

Kieran Overton: “Yes. I hate the thought of what they got planned for me when I get home because I enjoy being a nasty fat piece of shit. I enjoy pissing people off.”

It occurred to Aaron on everything he said, maybe that's why it was hard for Kieran to show compression to Barry because of the plans going on at his home. Who knew what Kieran's parents have planned when Kieran comes home. However he switches back to his asshole mode, but this time, was over the desert as it's making Kieran sweat left, right and centre. Even to a point, he took his shirt off.”

Kieran Overton: “This desert is fucking killing me. I hate this fucking place and I already regret signing up for this cunt fest show. Yes, that's what the PPV is called, cunt fest. Pathetic and dumb Noah and Fuzz are.”

Aaron: “We all know that. Come on, let's walk back to Barry and find it in your god damn heart, no matter how difficult it is for you to do so to feel for Barry.”

Kieran Overton: “OK.”

That's all Kieran could say was OK, it was always difficult when he was told to show some heart and compression for anyone, especially when his friend who's devastated about the dead animals from the wildfires. Kieran took a long drink from another litre of his water, while Aaron did the same with his second lot. It's clear Kieran hasn't drank lots from the sun hitting him in the desert. As they got to Barry and Connor, they see Kieran's slightly better as he pats Barry's shoulder, but it's all he can do.

Aaron: “I spoke to Kieran privately. He struggles with that kind of stuff.”

Connor: “Yeah, I can understand that, especially when Kieran doesn't have any family members apart from his parents to show love to.”

Kieran Overton: “I don't believe love, it makes me weak and I hate to show weakness. I don't know how to and the fact my parents text me to come home when I'm done with wrestling makes me angry. I don't give a shit what place they've popped in and out all day to see. I only care about myself, well you guys too.”

Connor: “It might not be a bad thing, Kieran. Who knows what you'll come home to.”

Kieran nods, but he immediately turns the topic into wrestling now, especially he hadn't even spoken about it and he speaks while Barry, still couldn't come to terms of the animals being dead and how he wished he could've saved them from the fires.

Kieran Overton: “Why are so many women wrestlers scared to be overweight and looking unattractive? Every fucking women wrestlers you see, they all have to look small, skinny and pretty looking. It makes me sick and if they were serious about wrestling, they'd look like wrestlers. None of them I've ever fought look anything like being professional wrestlers. Like professional fucking models.”

Aaron: “To be honest, I have to agree with Kieran here, no women wrestlers even attempt to look massive and gigantic. At least none I've experienced.”

Kieran Overton: “Yeah and that's not the end of it. Raab and Samuel, they've encountered many battles with Estrella Luiz in WCF. Glad I wasn't part of it when they were screwed by her and the other partner she had for the tag titles. She's the one I want to fight more than the rookie champion Geri Miller.”

Connor: “Why is the Internet title a rookie belt?”

Kieran Overton: “Because anyone can win that piece of crap title. Basically you show up and you win the title if you can. It's not based on skills, it's based on the commitment you make on Anarchy. It's no challenge at all, not compared to the Xtreme, XWF title or even the TV belt.

Although a lot of wrestlers would disagree with Kieran a lot on his opinions on the Internet title, it's what he believes in. He wouldn't go on Anarchy because it's not a brand for him, especially he wasn't able to trash talk his opponent as much as he could on Savage. Kieran goes on to talk about the other opponents in the match.

Kieran Overton: “I have no clue who the fuck Michael Archer Jr or Phantom Panzer are and Michael McBride can fuck off again. He didn't fucking bother to mention me or anyone he fought in a match. He rarely ever shows up to wrestle.”

Aaron: “I've sensed that too in that piss poor video he did. Was all about his random shit outside of the ring. Nobody wants to hear that crap. He might as well suffer in the desert and he rots slowly outside and nobody would care if he's gone.”

Kieran Overton: “Indeed, yet people think it's so difficult to win a battle royal match. In my case, it's not even a problem, it's a match made for me to win because I have no problems lifting up any of these worthless fucks in the ring to win the match. In fact, I shouldn't be in this match at all, I should be in that Xtreme title match after beating Ned, but oh no, Fuzz and Ned want to ruin the title name and make the match like it's a TV title match.”

Connor: “If the title states hardcore wrestling, it's hardcore wrestling, not a boring normal wrestling match.”

Kieran Overton: “Exactly. Ned doesn't deserve to be facing Fuzz, nor would he even deserve the title if he doesn't want to use weapons. Christ, he's in the wrong fucking sport. I'm done out here, let's go, unless Barry wants to stay here longer.”

Barry: “Yeah, if you guys don't mind, I want to be alone for a while. Sorry, I've not said much today, just I broke down, knowing I work at the vets and do everything I can to save them, but I can't.”

Aaron and Connor nodded at Barry, showing compression, while Kieran tries, but he can only give him a short hug as he wasn't able to do massive hugs like other people can as he figures out of the desert as they get in the car to leave and go to the main city of Victoria to stay there. Once they drove out of there, Kieran was relieved to get out the desert as he puts his shirt back on and they parked the car in the hotel car park and Kieran heads to the gym, while Connor and Aaron play pool somewhere.

Barry came back to the hotel three hours later to let his mind sink in what he saw in the desert and went to the bar to meet up with Connor and Aaron who were playing pool. Kieran meets them up in the bar before they go separately to their rooms to have a rest from walking and standing in the desert.

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

Stupid battle royals, making it easy for me to win twitch.com shoot.

“It's purely simple, isn't it? Big guys like me have more chance than blonde bimbos who are way too skinny and pretty for this fucking sport. Although I should've been in the Xtreme title match after defeating Ned for the three count, but of course he and Fuzz are trying to ruin the purpose of what that title means. It's not for regular matches like the TV titles and XWF titles are, it's in Xtreme rules and I'm pissed off these corrupt idiots, trying to destroy hardcore wrestling because it's not Ned's thing. Maybe he should focus on the TV then.

I don't care for stupid Phantoms who have no purpose to their name and nor do I care what they act and say because Phantom's new here, same goes with Michael Archer as well who I don't know fuckall about. I don't have time to study new wrestlers who haven't really done anything to impress me.

Hopefully, they actually say something about me, unlike Michael McBride who doesn't say shit about me or his other opponents in matches. When was the last time the guy even spoke anything? God only knows, but continue to be lazy and do fuckall because that's all you do and nobody really gives a fuck about you because you don't care for this business.

Geri acts tough, but in reality, holding a rookie title is not an achievement. Sorry, but it's not. Oh, I'm sorry, I meant the Internet belt, but to be honest, anybody can go and win a belt that's not challenging for experienced wrestlers like myself. No, cut out the bullshit on jealousy, I'm speaking the truth that the internet belt is just as less important as the trash-talking and Metalweight titles. You, women, are all the same, skinny and looking pretty instead of looking like actual wrestlers who put on weight, being big and powerful, along with building muscle which you along with that cheating bitch I get to in a bit are all the same fucking bitches who are too scared to make yourselves like proper wrestlers. You women are weak.

As for you, miss cheap shot Estrella Luiz, we know your innocent like shit is completely fake. How do I know, I happen to know that you and your worthless piece of shit partner actually cost The Monstimals the title. Using the brass knucks when it wasn't in the rules of that tag match is what you did and you're gonna pay a massive price attached to your fucking head. You were fucking lucky I was not introduced as The Monstimals member at the time because I would've got my ass there and beat the shit out of you, making our match a no DQ match.

I know everything you'll say is full of shit because you are a shitty fucking bitch and you also come down the list of everything I've ever said to that stank as well, weak women who are too scared to be big and be taken seriously as wrestlers by being bigger. That's why I will always throw you, stupid bitches, out of the ring, first chance I get. I am a vile horrible cunt who will never change, to respect everyone around me. After all, it's a cunt fest and I'm the biggest cunt you can find.

Of course, the lads are going to get thrown out as well, don't forget about Phantom when he acts nothing like one and the others are just boring men who won't be able to hang with me when I throw every single piece of body out of the ring to win the match. I hope you lot are in for a rude awakening as you will be slaughtered and beaten into pieces. If you want to bust me open, go right ahead, it won't affect me. I will always be a fuck ugly pig since I'm proud of being overweight. See you fuckers outside of the ring, after I will be the last person standing."]]> Fuck the Australian desert. Victoria, Australia. Thursday 23rd January (Off Camera)

As usual, Kieran walks with his friends of Connor who finally had time off playing Ice Hockey, Barry and Aaron in the desert known as the Great Victoria Desert. Kieran, although was a big cunt himself, wondered why Fuzz and Noah Jackson decided to go out in the desert for XWF wrestlers to wrestle. Kieran shrugged his shoulders, muttering on why he had to wrestle in a desert while walking with 6 large bottles of water on their back due to the heat in Australia.

Because Barry works with animals, he knew the reason for being here, but it was clear Kieran was completely lost with his reasons for coming down to the desert area, especially Kieran not really noticing about the fire that's happened in the desert where they were, looking confused.

Barry: “Do you not watch the news or anything?”

Kieran Overton: “No because I don't give a fuck who's dying and what's happening around the world. Why the fuck should I care about other people?”

Barry: “You know I work with animals? Well, the reason I think those two ass-kissing assholes are here is because they want to raise money for animals here. Some animals have been burnt and have died here. We at the vets have done a lot of work to get the animals what they need.”

Connor: “It's unfortunate what's happened here with the burnt debris of the animals here. Look at them, they couldn't get away in time for them to suffer like this. I'm sure it's heartbreaking for you to see this up close.”

Barry: “I'm used to putting pets down when they were in pain, but this is something else. These animals didn't deserve those fires going out of control and died due to severe burns. It breaks my heart.”

Barry stops walking and places his knee down on the ground, giving himself a tear, especially in his line of work. Kieran on the other hand, he didn't care and he still didn't, shrugging his shoulders, not caring for animals who suffer and die, but even he had the courage to pat Barry on the back, as much as he hates showing compression to another human being. Aaron was the one who said this.

Aaron: “I'm sure we understand or at least I do. So sorry you had to come here and see this due to Kieran's lack of awareness of what's happening around the world. Me and Kieran will go for a walk for a little while we'll give you some breathing room. Connor, you stay here with Barry to make sure he doesn't go off.”

Barry nods, approving of Aaron's plan as he pulls Kieran away from Barry and Connor, aggressively as they walk as far away as possible from the dead animals and as soon Aaron couldn't see Barry in the distance, he stands in the middle of a forest, saying this to him.

Aaron: “Are you fucking kidding me, Kieran?”

Kieran Overton: “What the fuck did I do? I said and done nothing.”

Aaron: “Exactly. You don't seem to give a fuck how Barry's feeling with the animals being dead and burnt, especially being a vet worker.”

Kieran Overton: “I'm a horrible asshole, you knew that before you met me. Sorry if I don't give a fuck if animals are dead, but it's difficult for me to show heart and compression when it's not in my nature to do so.”

Aaron: “That's your fucking friend there. Look, I know for you it's difficult to show heart and compression to someone, but you got to understand people's feelings. We aren't like you, we're humans, something you forget.”

Aaron was right, although Kieran shakes his head, he didn't have a brother or sister to protect in his life, he only had friends to look upon on. Suddenly, Kieran's phone went off in his pocket as he pulled it out of there and has a look on his phone, a text from his parents to state the situation he has coming home. Kieran shakes his head again.

Aaron: “You need to, no matter how hard something is. You don't have to be this caring guy in wrestling, we know that, but you shouldn't be such an asshole outside of the ring.”

Kieran Overton: “What happens if other wrestlers see me show weakness? It makes me pathetic.”

Aaron: “Who the fuck's gonna know that? Unless they are with us, they won't know a damn thing about you showing compression to your friend.”

The one thing Aaron and Kieran ignored was what's on the text. Of course, Kieran only quick glimpsed at the text, but he pulls it out to read it again, properly. It then hit Kieran after what he's been told and he shouts out quite loud after he pulls out a large 1-litre bottle of water he gulped down.

Kieran Overton: “Oh for fuck sake. I don't need this shit mum and dad.”

Aaron: “What's up?”

Kieran Overton: “They texted me about a situation they've been going in and out of a place they go to nearly every day. What I don't know, but I never cared because it has nothing to do with me.”

Aaron: “Do you think it's something that might change your life?”

Kieran Overton: “Yes. I hate the thought of what they got planned for me when I get home because I enjoy being a nasty fat piece of shit. I enjoy pissing people off.”

It occurred to Aaron on everything he said, maybe that's why it was hard for Kieran to show compression to Barry because of the plans going on at his home. Who knew what Kieran's parents have planned when Kieran comes home. However he switches back to his asshole mode, but this time, was over the desert as it's making Kieran sweat left, right and centre. Even to a point, he took his shirt off.”

Kieran Overton: “This desert is fucking killing me. I hate this fucking place and I already regret signing up for this cunt fest show. Yes, that's what the PPV is called, cunt fest. Pathetic and dumb Noah and Fuzz are.”

Aaron: “We all know that. Come on, let's walk back to Barry and find it in your god damn heart, no matter how difficult it is for you to do so to feel for Barry.”

Kieran Overton: “OK.”

That's all Kieran could say was OK, it was always difficult when he was told to show some heart and compression for anyone, especially when his friend who's devastated about the dead animals from the wildfires. Kieran took a long drink from another litre of his water, while Aaron did the same with his second lot. It's clear Kieran hasn't drank lots from the sun hitting him in the desert. As they got to Barry and Connor, they see Kieran's slightly better as he pats Barry's shoulder, but it's all he can do.

Aaron: “I spoke to Kieran privately. He struggles with that kind of stuff.”

Connor: “Yeah, I can understand that, especially when Kieran doesn't have any family members apart from his parents to show love to.”

Kieran Overton: “I don't believe love, it makes me weak and I hate to show weakness. I don't know how to and the fact my parents text me to come home when I'm done with wrestling makes me angry. I don't give a shit what place they've popped in and out all day to see. I only care about myself, well you guys too.”

Connor: “It might not be a bad thing, Kieran. Who knows what you'll come home to.”

Kieran nods, but he immediately turns the topic into wrestling now, especially he hadn't even spoken about it and he speaks while Barry, still couldn't come to terms of the animals being dead and how he wished he could've saved them from the fires.

Kieran Overton: “Why are so many women wrestlers scared to be overweight and looking unattractive? Every fucking women wrestlers you see, they all have to look small, skinny and pretty looking. It makes me sick and if they were serious about wrestling, they'd look like wrestlers. None of them I've ever fought look anything like being professional wrestlers. Like professional fucking models.”

Aaron: “To be honest, I have to agree with Kieran here, no women wrestlers even attempt to look massive and gigantic. At least none I've experienced.”

Kieran Overton: “Yeah and that's not the end of it. Raab and Samuel, they've encountered many battles with Estrella Luiz in WCF. Glad I wasn't part of it when they were screwed by her and the other partner she had for the tag titles. She's the one I want to fight more than the rookie champion Geri Miller.”

Connor: “Why is the Internet title a rookie belt?”

Kieran Overton: “Because anyone can win that piece of crap title. Basically you show up and you win the title if you can. It's not based on skills, it's based on the commitment you make on Anarchy. It's no challenge at all, not compared to the Xtreme, XWF title or even the TV belt.

Although a lot of wrestlers would disagree with Kieran a lot on his opinions on the Internet title, it's what he believes in. He wouldn't go on Anarchy because it's not a brand for him, especially he wasn't able to trash talk his opponent as much as he could on Savage. Kieran goes on to talk about the other opponents in the match.

Kieran Overton: “I have no clue who the fuck Michael Archer Jr or Phantom Panzer are and Michael McBride can fuck off again. He didn't fucking bother to mention me or anyone he fought in a match. He rarely ever shows up to wrestle.”

Aaron: “I've sensed that too in that piss poor video he did. Was all about his random shit outside of the ring. Nobody wants to hear that crap. He might as well suffer in the desert and he rots slowly outside and nobody would care if he's gone.”

Kieran Overton: “Indeed, yet people think it's so difficult to win a battle royal match. In my case, it's not even a problem, it's a match made for me to win because I have no problems lifting up any of these worthless fucks in the ring to win the match. In fact, I shouldn't be in this match at all, I should be in that Xtreme title match after beating Ned, but oh no, Fuzz and Ned want to ruin the title name and make the match like it's a TV title match.”

Connor: “If the title states hardcore wrestling, it's hardcore wrestling, not a boring normal wrestling match.”

Kieran Overton: “Exactly. Ned doesn't deserve to be facing Fuzz, nor would he even deserve the title if he doesn't want to use weapons. Christ, he's in the wrong fucking sport. I'm done out here, let's go, unless Barry wants to stay here longer.”

Barry: “Yeah, if you guys don't mind, I want to be alone for a while. Sorry, I've not said much today, just I broke down, knowing I work at the vets and do everything I can to save them, but I can't.”

Aaron and Connor nodded at Barry, showing compression, while Kieran tries, but he can only give him a short hug as he wasn't able to do massive hugs like other people can as he figures out of the desert as they get in the car to leave and go to the main city of Victoria to stay there. Once they drove out of there, Kieran was relieved to get out the desert as he puts his shirt back on and they parked the car in the hotel car park and Kieran heads to the gym, while Connor and Aaron play pool somewhere.

Barry came back to the hotel three hours later to let his mind sink in what he saw in the desert and went to the bar to meet up with Connor and Aaron who were playing pool. Kieran meets them up in the bar before they go separately to their rooms to have a rest from walking and standing in the desert.

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

Stupid battle royals, making it easy for me to win twitch.com shoot.

“It's purely simple, isn't it? Big guys like me have more chance than blonde bimbos who are way too skinny and pretty for this fucking sport. Although I should've been in the Xtreme title match after defeating Ned for the three count, but of course he and Fuzz are trying to ruin the purpose of what that title means. It's not for regular matches like the TV titles and XWF titles are, it's in Xtreme rules and I'm pissed off these corrupt idiots, trying to destroy hardcore wrestling because it's not Ned's thing. Maybe he should focus on the TV then.

I don't care for stupid Phantoms who have no purpose to their name and nor do I care what they act and say because Phantom's new here, same goes with Michael Archer as well who I don't know fuckall about. I don't have time to study new wrestlers who haven't really done anything to impress me.

Hopefully, they actually say something about me, unlike Michael McBride who doesn't say shit about me or his other opponents in matches. When was the last time the guy even spoke anything? God only knows, but continue to be lazy and do fuckall because that's all you do and nobody really gives a fuck about you because you don't care for this business.

Geri acts tough, but in reality, holding a rookie title is not an achievement. Sorry, but it's not. Oh, I'm sorry, I meant the Internet belt, but to be honest, anybody can go and win a belt that's not challenging for experienced wrestlers like myself. No, cut out the bullshit on jealousy, I'm speaking the truth that the internet belt is just as less important as the trash-talking and Metalweight titles. You, women, are all the same, skinny and looking pretty instead of looking like actual wrestlers who put on weight, being big and powerful, along with building muscle which you along with that cheating bitch I get to in a bit are all the same fucking bitches who are too scared to make yourselves like proper wrestlers. You women are weak.

As for you, miss cheap shot Estrella Luiz, we know your innocent like shit is completely fake. How do I know, I happen to know that you and your worthless piece of shit partner actually cost The Monstimals the title. Using the brass knucks when it wasn't in the rules of that tag match is what you did and you're gonna pay a massive price attached to your fucking head. You were fucking lucky I was not introduced as The Monstimals member at the time because I would've got my ass there and beat the shit out of you, making our match a no DQ match.

I know everything you'll say is full of shit because you are a shitty fucking bitch and you also come down the list of everything I've ever said to that stank as well, weak women who are too scared to be big and be taken seriously as wrestlers by being bigger. That's why I will always throw you, stupid bitches, out of the ring, first chance I get. I am a vile horrible cunt who will never change, to respect everyone around me. After all, it's a cunt fest and I'm the biggest cunt you can find.

Of course, the lads are going to get thrown out as well, don't forget about Phantom when he acts nothing like one and the others are just boring men who won't be able to hang with me when I throw every single piece of body out of the ring to win the match. I hope you lot are in for a rude awakening as you will be slaughtered and beaten into pieces. If you want to bust me open, go right ahead, it won't affect me. I will always be a fuck ugly pig since I'm proud of being overweight. See you fuckers outside of the ring, after I will be the last person standing."]]> <![CDATA[Other peoples eyes]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36010 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 18:37:41 -0800 bRiaN sTorM]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36010 bRiaN sTorM


So our hometown hero is driving the van around back just like he was asked, when he heard a loud gunshot! He quickly hit the breaks, and leaped on the fence, scaling it in a hurry. He kicks the back door in just in time to see his best friend Griffin holding a gun, and an injured security guard on the floor bleeding. bRiaN instinctially wants to believe this is Reese's fault. Upon further inspection, bRiaN discovers the security gaurd is far from injured. He's dead. The blood is on bRian's hands and he wants to believe that it was shed by Reese but the time for inquiry is through.

"Police! Freeze! Noobody Move! Hands where I can see them!"

Shit just got real.



Griffin MacAlister


The sound of the gun shot was enough to send shivers up Griffin's spine. Reese brought a gun? Why? What the fuck for? Where the hell did he get a gun? Why did he think that was necessary? Griffin could only speculate the reasons. His boots pounded on the concrete floor as his arms pumped beside him, he raced to Reese, his mind reeling with possibilities. There was always the chance some frivolous, trigger happy security guard got the drop on his brother and fired his weapon. This type of thinking only fueled his feet to go faster. However, Griffin soon uncovered that his initial thought had been accurate. Reese brought the gun and now, he stood over the body of a security guard. The security guard's coat was covered in crimson from a very visible wound and he was laying motionless on the floor. Not a good sign, at all. Griffin was acting on instincts now, He marched over to Reese and took the gun. From trembling hands Griffin yanked the weapon and then narrowed his eyes. He was so pissed at his brother. How could Reese be this fucking stupid?!?!


"A gun? Really?!?! How could you be this fucking stupid?!?!"


Reese didn't have time to answer before bRiaN STorM, stormed into the room, breathless. All Griffin could do was look at his best friend, with eyes pleading for bRiaN to understand that he wasn't to blame. It was like bRiaN could hear Griffin's thoughts and he merely checked on the security guard. Alas, there wasn't much that could be done for that man, he was dead and turning cold by now. bRiaN's hands were saturated in scarlet from the very visible wound on the man's chest. The time for talking was through though.


"Police! Freeze! Nobody Move! Hands where I can see them!"


Shit just got real



Hey there Jimbo fuck any good dolphins lately? And Thunder your mother didn't think I was stupid this morning after i helped her finish her daily crossword puzzle.


"Gross. You slept with Thunder Knuckles' mother? Why? Your my friend bRiaN and I respect you but you're really makin' it hard for me to say that in public. What with these questionable life choices that you're making. I mean that with all the love in my heart too man. Peter Gilmour wouldn't even fuck TK's mother and that's saying... A LOT! Peter fucks transgender prostitutes. While eating trays of On-Cor chicken parm. He dong worships the devil and admitted it. Pretty sure he abducted Unknown Soldier and has both him and Sid Feder tied up in the cellar. Peter nearly ate Sebastian Duke out of house and home, Duke is on welfare because of Gilly. Don't get me started on Dim, lets just say he's not doing so well and leave it at that. There's an overpass that seems to have acquired a troll that looks suspiciously like him though."


"Anyway, don't go around saying that you slept with TK's mother, even if it's true. She created Thunder Knuckles, I'm guessing she looks exactly like him, in a dress. That's not a 'look' that's desirable or befitting of any woman. Or human in general. I'm going to let you have a free pass on this one buddy, don't make the same error again. Speakin' of errors, lets talk about TK... Mr. Total Knockout, himself. Cause he totally knocks ya out every time he opens up that mouth of his and verbally vomits all over the place. Thanks for tallying up my record Thunder Knuckles. That would be an amazing feat, if you didn't weigh in the fact that I rarely wrestle and that my losses, were against some of the major names in wrestling. The Engineer. Robert Main. Gator. Lux. These are folks that would eat you alive."


"I have never lost a fight that you would have won, in my stead. It's just I've been in battles that are far more impressive than anything in your history. And that's just in the wake of my return. I'm still one half of the longest reigning tag champs. Then Duke challenged me for sole ownership of both titles and lost. I beat Vita at Leap Of Faith, that was back when Corey was bangin' her and it infuriated him. Fairly certain he cried cause I stomped her skull in. I tried to tell him that I don't book the fights and obviously, some sick freak assigned the match but he wasn't having it and didn't listen. I'm pretty sure the same twisted bastard forced Donovan to fight Dolly Waters, who's dead and layin' in a ditch now. Not from the match against Donovan, more than likely some kind of overdose or drug related reason. She seemed like a meth addict, so I'm going to go with that. Either she smoked too much or tried to cook it."


"Funny story, Shane and Unknown Soldier burnt down my apartment trying to cook meth. They thought they could make it after watching an episode of Breaking Bad. Clearly watching a television show doesn't make you knowledgeable on the subject. You try telling two lunatics that though. You have insight into that subject I'd imagine, dealing with Jim Jimson. God.... how can you put up with... that? The cost for ibuprofen must be astronomical by now. All the incessant rambling on and on. Not really making much effort in thinkin' before he speaks. That's why he said I have super powers."


"I don't have super powers, I was conditioned. Trained and altered genetically. I was born a normal human. There is a difference. Sure, to a dullard like Jim, it's all the same. He probably thinks Azrael and I are the same being. We're not by the way, not sure if I have to tell you that or not, you might not be as dumb as Jim but you still are very slow in the thinking department. Far be it for me to assume what the mentally inept can figure out. That's a level of thinking that I'm just not prepared to do. I'll fight you but I won't tread the waters of attemptin' to think like you. That's a job for management to deal with. So we have this match that we're booked in and somehow you think you're going to get a big pay day from it. Hahahahaha! Really? Because of the damage that you hope to inflict on me."


"Okay."


"Lets go back to the topic of my conditioning, remember when I mentioned that subject? Well part of that includes an advanced healing factor, which means short of you, killin' me in the ring, my wounds will mend themselves. On top of that, I have a higher state of durability and endurance and you're an overweight, out of shape, lard ball. Jim called bRiaN fat, you two have the same body type. The only difference is the fact that bRiaN embraces it, meanwhile you hide your shame... and now, probably more than ever. Since you found out your partner is against fatties. It's going to be fun when bRiaN beats the crap outta that guy. I'll let him have Jim. You and I will definitely have our dance though. I wanna see how well you talk sideways out of your neck, when my size 13 Grinder is kickin' your teeth in. Hey but if it makes you feel any better, I really believe that you believed that you would win. It's your right to be wrong."]]> bRiaN sTorM


So our hometown hero is driving the van around back just like he was asked, when he heard a loud gunshot! He quickly hit the breaks, and leaped on the fence, scaling it in a hurry. He kicks the back door in just in time to see his best friend Griffin holding a gun, and an injured security guard on the floor bleeding. bRiaN instinctially wants to believe this is Reese's fault. Upon further inspection, bRiaN discovers the security gaurd is far from injured. He's dead. The blood is on bRian's hands and he wants to believe that it was shed by Reese but the time for inquiry is through.

"Police! Freeze! Noobody Move! Hands where I can see them!"

Shit just got real.



Griffin MacAlister


The sound of the gun shot was enough to send shivers up Griffin's spine. Reese brought a gun? Why? What the fuck for? Where the hell did he get a gun? Why did he think that was necessary? Griffin could only speculate the reasons. His boots pounded on the concrete floor as his arms pumped beside him, he raced to Reese, his mind reeling with possibilities. There was always the chance some frivolous, trigger happy security guard got the drop on his brother and fired his weapon. This type of thinking only fueled his feet to go faster. However, Griffin soon uncovered that his initial thought had been accurate. Reese brought the gun and now, he stood over the body of a security guard. The security guard's coat was covered in crimson from a very visible wound and he was laying motionless on the floor. Not a good sign, at all. Griffin was acting on instincts now, He marched over to Reese and took the gun. From trembling hands Griffin yanked the weapon and then narrowed his eyes. He was so pissed at his brother. How could Reese be this fucking stupid?!?!


"A gun? Really?!?! How could you be this fucking stupid?!?!"


Reese didn't have time to answer before bRiaN STorM, stormed into the room, breathless. All Griffin could do was look at his best friend, with eyes pleading for bRiaN to understand that he wasn't to blame. It was like bRiaN could hear Griffin's thoughts and he merely checked on the security guard. Alas, there wasn't much that could be done for that man, he was dead and turning cold by now. bRiaN's hands were saturated in scarlet from the very visible wound on the man's chest. The time for talking was through though.


"Police! Freeze! Nobody Move! Hands where I can see them!"


Shit just got real



Hey there Jimbo fuck any good dolphins lately? And Thunder your mother didn't think I was stupid this morning after i helped her finish her daily crossword puzzle.


"Gross. You slept with Thunder Knuckles' mother? Why? Your my friend bRiaN and I respect you but you're really makin' it hard for me to say that in public. What with these questionable life choices that you're making. I mean that with all the love in my heart too man. Peter Gilmour wouldn't even fuck TK's mother and that's saying... A LOT! Peter fucks transgender prostitutes. While eating trays of On-Cor chicken parm. He dong worships the devil and admitted it. Pretty sure he abducted Unknown Soldier and has both him and Sid Feder tied up in the cellar. Peter nearly ate Sebastian Duke out of house and home, Duke is on welfare because of Gilly. Don't get me started on Dim, lets just say he's not doing so well and leave it at that. There's an overpass that seems to have acquired a troll that looks suspiciously like him though."


"Anyway, don't go around saying that you slept with TK's mother, even if it's true. She created Thunder Knuckles, I'm guessing she looks exactly like him, in a dress. That's not a 'look' that's desirable or befitting of any woman. Or human in general. I'm going to let you have a free pass on this one buddy, don't make the same error again. Speakin' of errors, lets talk about TK... Mr. Total Knockout, himself. Cause he totally knocks ya out every time he opens up that mouth of his and verbally vomits all over the place. Thanks for tallying up my record Thunder Knuckles. That would be an amazing feat, if you didn't weigh in the fact that I rarely wrestle and that my losses, were against some of the major names in wrestling. The Engineer. Robert Main. Gator. Lux. These are folks that would eat you alive."


"I have never lost a fight that you would have won, in my stead. It's just I've been in battles that are far more impressive than anything in your history. And that's just in the wake of my return. I'm still one half of the longest reigning tag champs. Then Duke challenged me for sole ownership of both titles and lost. I beat Vita at Leap Of Faith, that was back when Corey was bangin' her and it infuriated him. Fairly certain he cried cause I stomped her skull in. I tried to tell him that I don't book the fights and obviously, some sick freak assigned the match but he wasn't having it and didn't listen. I'm pretty sure the same twisted bastard forced Donovan to fight Dolly Waters, who's dead and layin' in a ditch now. Not from the match against Donovan, more than likely some kind of overdose or drug related reason. She seemed like a meth addict, so I'm going to go with that. Either she smoked too much or tried to cook it."


"Funny story, Shane and Unknown Soldier burnt down my apartment trying to cook meth. They thought they could make it after watching an episode of Breaking Bad. Clearly watching a television show doesn't make you knowledgeable on the subject. You try telling two lunatics that though. You have insight into that subject I'd imagine, dealing with Jim Jimson. God.... how can you put up with... that? The cost for ibuprofen must be astronomical by now. All the incessant rambling on and on. Not really making much effort in thinkin' before he speaks. That's why he said I have super powers."


"I don't have super powers, I was conditioned. Trained and altered genetically. I was born a normal human. There is a difference. Sure, to a dullard like Jim, it's all the same. He probably thinks Azrael and I are the same being. We're not by the way, not sure if I have to tell you that or not, you might not be as dumb as Jim but you still are very slow in the thinking department. Far be it for me to assume what the mentally inept can figure out. That's a level of thinking that I'm just not prepared to do. I'll fight you but I won't tread the waters of attemptin' to think like you. That's a job for management to deal with. So we have this match that we're booked in and somehow you think you're going to get a big pay day from it. Hahahahaha! Really? Because of the damage that you hope to inflict on me."


"Okay."


"Lets go back to the topic of my conditioning, remember when I mentioned that subject? Well part of that includes an advanced healing factor, which means short of you, killin' me in the ring, my wounds will mend themselves. On top of that, I have a higher state of durability and endurance and you're an overweight, out of shape, lard ball. Jim called bRiaN fat, you two have the same body type. The only difference is the fact that bRiaN embraces it, meanwhile you hide your shame... and now, probably more than ever. Since you found out your partner is against fatties. It's going to be fun when bRiaN beats the crap outta that guy. I'll let him have Jim. You and I will definitely have our dance though. I wanna see how well you talk sideways out of your neck, when my size 13 Grinder is kickin' your teeth in. Hey but if it makes you feel any better, I really believe that you believed that you would win. It's your right to be wrong."]]> <![CDATA[Final Hours]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36016 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 18:34:36 -0800 THE Tristan Slater]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36016 Wall to wall red carpet, hand carved antique furniture, a generous display of golden trinkets and sparkling edges. Aged beauty at its finest. Ancient royalty would have (could have?) called this home, but Shane calls it something very different.


"Welcome to the house of truth, or 'The HOT' for short." says none other than the pillar of justice and ultimate measuring stick of all that is quality, Shane himself. Shane leads his well dressed guest to a large, magnificent piece of hard hand craftsmanship – the ancient oak dinner table he used to eat at when he was a child. Having been shipped across the ocean by Greggo's Delivery Pirates, it now resided "here" at The HOT so Shane feels at home while he's hard at work here. A few documents are placed side by side on the table, but those documents look so worn and tattered they might as well be ancient scrolls themselves.


Shane's eyes landing on the beaten, tattered, near shredded documents: "Shit."


"Something wrong, Shane?" His guest's voice was unmistakably that of his partner for this upcoming CUNT FEST pay per view extravaganza, the one and only THE Tristan Slater! The man is decked out in a gorgeous, dark grey Armani suit with a bright golden tie that almost seems to glow under the light of the chandelier. Shane is wearing a similar suit jacket and tie, and both men are wearing a pair of original black Rayban Predators in mint condition. Wow. The main difference between Shane and Tristan's attire is that Shane is rocking those insanely comfortable Emporio Armani coconut printed velvet trousers! While criminally comfortable, they're not every man's cup of tea, as some say they resemble a micro zebra print... but the way the light and reflection plays all over Shane's shiny pants like it's a sex party really makes them stand out.


Anyway, to answer Slater's question as to whether something is wrong... "Nothing more wrong than waking up in a world where I know I'm going to be expected to watch more Robert Main and Chris Page promos, Tristan. Nothing more wrong than that in all of space, time, or the other. Know what I mean, man?" Shane's got an incredibly laid back tone and seems to be in rather chill spirits, almost as if he's on drugs... or at least that's what the VAST majority of viewers are assuming it the case here. VAST majority. Are you one of them? Do you think Shane's fucked up on some quality "medication" right now, or is it something else?


Gesturing toward the camera, "I bet the fuckin' shit head watching at home right now thinks I'm doped up off my ass right now, Tristan." Shane is peeking under the table for something, then glancing behind various pieces of furniture, behind the luxurious ceiling-to-floor length curtains, and even inside the nearby grand piano. "Shit. It's not here." And then without warning we get, "IT'S NOT FUCKING HERE!" Slater blinks... and tells Shane to "Calm the fuck down."


Shane continues searching, gently lifting up those "ancient scrolls" on the oak table to look underneath them as Slater continues, "What's not here? Why ARE we here anyway? This place looks like it got caught in a time capsule and I don't want to get stuck here with it. Reminds me of a one of those movies you’d see on Mystery Science Theater 3,000 or some shit.” There Shane stands, hands on his hips, perplexed beyond any shadow of belief as his eyes scan the entire area. It's after a few seconds of Shane seeming to peer deep into nothingness that a light bulb goes off over his head and a ding is heard from the distance. Slater briefly glances behind him with an eyebrow raised, then looks back at Shane who is proudly proclaiming, "Ah ha! I've got it!"


"It must be down in the media maraud lounge! I bet Elyon was working with it!" Shane exclaims, patting Tristan once on the chest and marching onward, "To the elevator!" to which Slater appears pleasantly surprised to hear, considering the next words out of Shane's mouth were, "We've got to go down about 8 levels(!) – do not remove your sunglasses, whatever you do. Where we're headed is going to be even more dangerous to these pathetic, fleshbags' eye yolks we have to deal with in these humorously piteous bodies." Tristan does a double take at Shane and goes, "The fuck?" prompting Shane to quickly regain his composer and adjust his tie as the two continue walking down the long, dimly lit hallway to the elevator. In a more reserved, almost timid manner, Shane issues some clarification in the form of, "Never mind that last part."


The elevator is already opening as Shane and Tristan approach it, and the lights flicker on inside of it as they walk inside. Apparently the elevator "ding" had already happened a few moment prior? (Anyone?)

What sounds like a deep surge of energy from far behind the walls of the elevator can be heard and even felt as a gust of air hits Shane and Tristan from above. The elevator, much like the rest of the property, has this oddly out dated yet technology advanced feel to it. An artificial voice says "READY" as a board illuminates in front of Shane's fingers and presents several dozen options which Shane is quick to answer by tapping a particular button that expands and the words "media maraud lounge" scroll across the display. A jerk of the elevator has Slater bracing himself with his hands out to his sides as Shane smiles and assures him, "the elevator ride will be VERY jerky as we aren't just going straight down in a single line. Get comfortable." And Shane pulls a lever that reveals a long panel along the wall that folds out into a bench.


Shane takes a seat and grabs a smoking pipe from his inside jacket pocket. There are strands of something light and golden swaying at the edge of the bowl. "Yo, you wanna take a hit of CCP's nasty ass fuckin' hair? It's loaded as fuck with THC..." and with that, Shane lights up and starts puffing away as Tristan looks repulsed on every level. The lights in the elevator flicker as a massive jerk sends weight shifting in a different direction and now they are moving horizontally.


Let's strike up some conversation while we're here!


Shane turns to Slater and nudges him... So, knowing Chris Page as closely as you have for so long, what would you say is the biggest of his many, many, many, many, many weaknesses? Or are they all SO goddamn bad there's no way to pick just one?


There’s a smirk from Tristan as he simply shakes his head before stating, ”I mean the laundry list is rather lengthy and I think it’s safe to say that NO ONE knows Chris Page like I know Chris Page; and while the many flaws strike out at me like a venomous snake the ONE glaring thing, the one thing that knocks anyone down with half a brain has to be his ego.”


There’s a nod from Shane as Tristan continues.


”Look at what he’s done here in the XWF since his return… he’s lost to Robert Main, twice. He’s had two different shots at the Universal Championship against two different champions and failed to capture the title… but did he just admit that he was beaten? Nope. What did he do? He’s blamed you, he’s blamed management and he’s blamed anyone under the sun other than his self because blaming his self means he admits he’s a failure. Think about the shit show of excuses he’s going to make when this tag match blows up in his face.”


Wait... he's blamed ME? ME?! Well I just can't figure that one out, but I'm not even going to try.


Moving on... let's shift gears in a very different direction. Here's a real head scratcher if there ever was one... In a recent Robbie Bourbon promo that he aired in preparation for his title shot, that fat piece of shit said something about Robert Main and CCP both passing up opportunities to face the Universal Champ at CUNTfest! Do you think they're really that stupid? Have they gone full tard sac? Could Fat Ass Robbie be right and they PASSED up a chance, or is it more likely that there's no chance in hell the XWF would have given either of them a shot? I personally think it's hilarious that we have random fat like Bourbon commenting on the fact that Robert Main and CCP missing from the title picture is noteworthy! People who aren't even involved with us are noticing how odd it is that Main and Page just AREN'T where they'd have us believe they belong on a pay per view card!


Slater has been nodding the whole time, knowing exactly what Shane is talking about. He's quick to respond with his own thoughts as, ”Now I will say I was still undercover and was present when a phone call came in asking if Chris wanted to step back to the plate and I was there when he refused… but let’s get one thing straight, he didn’t refuse the title match because he didn’t want to challenge for the strap oh no, he refused it because he knows he isn’t capable of knocking off the Engineer! Fuck, had Robert not CASHED IN on the Engineer he wouldn’t have ever lost the title to begin with so they can both fuck off in that regard. They’re both going to sit back and point at the that situation and say they was offered this or they was offered that but IN REALITY if either of them half way believed anything they’re trying to force feed down our throats they would have agreed to the match and got embarrassed again.”


Tristan spits down on the floor before stating.


”That pretty much sums up the excuses for being a couple of cunts.”


Sounds about right, Shane says with a chuckle. Can you imagine a world in which Chris Page and Robert Main get TIRED of being embarrassed? Hell, an entire industry would go down in flames if that happened! Millions would be out of work. They have no idea how important their obliviousness and inability are to the economy. Slater can't help but to nod in agreement as both of them take a moment to appreciate just how important it is to have people in the picture that LOVE being punished and exposed.


All that aside though, Tristan... It's time for us to get real fuckin' serious here. Everyone knows you and I have a storied past, and we'd both be lying if we pretended to be "best lovers" like some like to pretend to be, but I'm about to prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm the only one that's been straight with you the entire time we've known each other. Brace yourself... but I think there's something you need to know about the XWF. I mean, I know how you already feel about it but this will only add to the mounds of shit. Did you know you're on record as having been the reason "The XWF Championship" was retired? And not for a good reason either! Take a look at what the XWF's very own website has tucked away at the bottom of their official title history page!

Shane whips his phone out and pulls something to show Slater...
(08-23-2013, 02:51 PM)XWF Title History Said: XWF Title (defunct)
Tristan C Slater - 7/2/12
Mark Flynn - MITB / 10/8/12
Tristan C Slater / 11/12/12
Scorpio - MITB / 12/12/12
Tristan C Slater -(Title disposed of when Slater tested positive for roids 2nd time in a row!)

See that?!? These scum bags are making it out like you're a steroid abuser and that's why the former TOP TITLE in the company had to be disposed of! I remember begging–pleading–with guys like Vincent Lane to get these records fixed but they insist on being pieces of shit... THEY WOULDN'T LET ME FIX IT!!! Oh, and the best part about it? Notice that "C" they added to your name? We know damn well you're not Tristan C Slater!


”First and foremost I don’t know who the fuck Tristan C. Slater is because that isn’t me. Never in my career have I billed a middle name so whoever the fuck is behind this travesty needs to have a gun put in their mouth and the trigger pulled for being a stupid fucking cunt. It’s no secret I have a checked history with this company and pieces of it came while YOU was at the forefront with decisions and choices you made. We’re past that. They vanquished a title and tried to tarnish my reputation… and fucked that up too.”


Tristan simply shakes his head before laughing under his breath before he states.


”I can’t say I’m surprised if I’m being completely honest because this IS the XWF and it’s always been ran by out of touch fuck nuggets; present company excluded…”


A tip of the cap from Shane, But of course, good sir, and Tristan continues...


”Vinnie and Theo are as out of touch as out of touch can get to the point its simply comical at every turn it’s literally insane. Vinnie is too busy worrying about what’s up on Thursday Nights to see that his major programs are floundering with the lack of legitimate talent and not a fifty year old man rocking a dad bod, right Chris? The bottom line is the XWF Championship retired when I took it with me because there wasn’t a person on the roster worthy enough to hold it. I’m the man that carried this company on his back by becoming the youngest and fastest GRAND SLAM CHAMPION in history by holding every title the federation had at that time. You want to talk about lack of respect, this company should be on its knee sucking my dick because had I not been in the mix there’s no way it would have survived this long, so it’s only fitting that I come back around and kill what I had a piece of creating.”


Tristan C Slater! HA! Still can't get over that. What's next? Shane Scatboi ? That's just a bullshit, sloppy ass tactic to try and protect them from lawsuits after they smeared your name and defame your character! "Uhhhh durr we were'z talkinzo about a different Tristan! We be so clevererer! Dur! DUR! DURDURDUR!!!" That's the bullshit we're up against together here. The Engineer and I are sure we can make this place even BETTER because we have such an natural, unconditional LOVE for it... but that doesn't stop us from recognizing the shit that needs to be plunged out. As far as I'm concerned, these records for The XWF Championship prove only one thing – THAT YOU NEVER LOST THE TITLE! We have a case of a title you relentlessly defended week in and week out without ever losing, yet the "official record" is that they had to trash the belt because you're a roid abuser...


YET GUYS LIKE AMJETKUN SOCIO ARE ON THE ROSTER, CLEARLY JUICING THE LIVING FUCK OUT OF THEMSELVES AND EVEN INFLUENCING OTHERS TO TAKE PART IN STEROID ABUSE, HINT HINT COUGH COUGH VITA VALENTEEN! Oh, did I say any of that too loud? I hope I'm not causing any problems by pointing out more hypocritical and downright criminal decision making on the part of XWF management!


”And this is all the more reason that we have to fix this shit by pulling the plug on this company. With the Engineer as Universal Champion that’s one title that they won’t stake claim to; so the way I see it is we set out and conquer the rest of the gold and then FUCK them the way they FUCKED us…”


”Do tell.”


”Technically a contracted Champion has to defend once every thirty days. We take the titles we take them OFF television outside of our mandated defenses, as a matter of fact not only do we only defend once a month we don’t even show up any other time than when we do defend the titles.”


”I like the way you think.”


”But before I go to deep into that I don’t want to lose sight of what is directly in front of us and regardless of how stupid they look and how dumb they sound we still have to get through the overrated team of Robert Main and Chris Page. I’m not looking past them nor am I discounting what they can bring to the table. I’m ready to ball up my fist and put it down their throats. I want to listen to their screams of pain and stain the canvass with their blood. I don’t just want to win this, I want to embarrass them.”


There’s a sly smirk from as Tristan continues.


”Chris Page lost focus and couldn’t stick to the plan of killing this federation and now his goal is to kill you and anyone associated with you. Bring it! Because what happens when Chris and Robert bring us everything they’ve got come the Pay-Per-View and they’re left laying? Pay attention Chris because I am about to show you what happens when you DON’T take your eye off the ball! Your ass is grass and I’m going to SMOKE IT!”


A sudden jolt followed by a loud screech of metal on metal for a few seconds has Shane looking very pleased as the elevator trek finally comes to a halt...


Shane looks up at Tristan and is about to say something that blows his mind...


(Continued directly in Shane's RP)]]> Wall to wall red carpet, hand carved antique furniture, a generous display of golden trinkets and sparkling edges. Aged beauty at its finest. Ancient royalty would have (could have?) called this home, but Shane calls it something very different.


"Welcome to the house of truth, or 'The HOT' for short." says none other than the pillar of justice and ultimate measuring stick of all that is quality, Shane himself. Shane leads his well dressed guest to a large, magnificent piece of hard hand craftsmanship – the ancient oak dinner table he used to eat at when he was a child. Having been shipped across the ocean by Greggo's Delivery Pirates, it now resided "here" at The HOT so Shane feels at home while he's hard at work here. A few documents are placed side by side on the table, but those documents look so worn and tattered they might as well be ancient scrolls themselves.


Shane's eyes landing on the beaten, tattered, near shredded documents: "Shit."


"Something wrong, Shane?" His guest's voice was unmistakably that of his partner for this upcoming CUNT FEST pay per view extravaganza, the one and only THE Tristan Slater! The man is decked out in a gorgeous, dark grey Armani suit with a bright golden tie that almost seems to glow under the light of the chandelier. Shane is wearing a similar suit jacket and tie, and both men are wearing a pair of original black Rayban Predators in mint condition. Wow. The main difference between Shane and Tristan's attire is that Shane is rocking those insanely comfortable Emporio Armani coconut printed velvet trousers! While criminally comfortable, they're not every man's cup of tea, as some say they resemble a micro zebra print... but the way the light and reflection plays all over Shane's shiny pants like it's a sex party really makes them stand out.


Anyway, to answer Slater's question as to whether something is wrong... "Nothing more wrong than waking up in a world where I know I'm going to be expected to watch more Robert Main and Chris Page promos, Tristan. Nothing more wrong than that in all of space, time, or the other. Know what I mean, man?" Shane's got an incredibly laid back tone and seems to be in rather chill spirits, almost as if he's on drugs... or at least that's what the VAST majority of viewers are assuming it the case here. VAST majority. Are you one of them? Do you think Shane's fucked up on some quality "medication" right now, or is it something else?


Gesturing toward the camera, "I bet the fuckin' shit head watching at home right now thinks I'm doped up off my ass right now, Tristan." Shane is peeking under the table for something, then glancing behind various pieces of furniture, behind the luxurious ceiling-to-floor length curtains, and even inside the nearby grand piano. "Shit. It's not here." And then without warning we get, "IT'S NOT FUCKING HERE!" Slater blinks... and tells Shane to "Calm the fuck down."


Shane continues searching, gently lifting up those "ancient scrolls" on the oak table to look underneath them as Slater continues, "What's not here? Why ARE we here anyway? This place looks like it got caught in a time capsule and I don't want to get stuck here with it. Reminds me of a one of those movies you’d see on Mystery Science Theater 3,000 or some shit.” There Shane stands, hands on his hips, perplexed beyond any shadow of belief as his eyes scan the entire area. It's after a few seconds of Shane seeming to peer deep into nothingness that a light bulb goes off over his head and a ding is heard from the distance. Slater briefly glances behind him with an eyebrow raised, then looks back at Shane who is proudly proclaiming, "Ah ha! I've got it!"


"It must be down in the media maraud lounge! I bet Elyon was working with it!" Shane exclaims, patting Tristan once on the chest and marching onward, "To the elevator!" to which Slater appears pleasantly surprised to hear, considering the next words out of Shane's mouth were, "We've got to go down about 8 levels(!) – do not remove your sunglasses, whatever you do. Where we're headed is going to be even more dangerous to these pathetic, fleshbags' eye yolks we have to deal with in these humorously piteous bodies." Tristan does a double take at Shane and goes, "The fuck?" prompting Shane to quickly regain his composer and adjust his tie as the two continue walking down the long, dimly lit hallway to the elevator. In a more reserved, almost timid manner, Shane issues some clarification in the form of, "Never mind that last part."


The elevator is already opening as Shane and Tristan approach it, and the lights flicker on inside of it as they walk inside. Apparently the elevator "ding" had already happened a few moment prior? (Anyone?)

What sounds like a deep surge of energy from far behind the walls of the elevator can be heard and even felt as a gust of air hits Shane and Tristan from above. The elevator, much like the rest of the property, has this oddly out dated yet technology advanced feel to it. An artificial voice says "READY" as a board illuminates in front of Shane's fingers and presents several dozen options which Shane is quick to answer by tapping a particular button that expands and the words "media maraud lounge" scroll across the display. A jerk of the elevator has Slater bracing himself with his hands out to his sides as Shane smiles and assures him, "the elevator ride will be VERY jerky as we aren't just going straight down in a single line. Get comfortable." And Shane pulls a lever that reveals a long panel along the wall that folds out into a bench.


Shane takes a seat and grabs a smoking pipe from his inside jacket pocket. There are strands of something light and golden swaying at the edge of the bowl. "Yo, you wanna take a hit of CCP's nasty ass fuckin' hair? It's loaded as fuck with THC..." and with that, Shane lights up and starts puffing away as Tristan looks repulsed on every level. The lights in the elevator flicker as a massive jerk sends weight shifting in a different direction and now they are moving horizontally.


Let's strike up some conversation while we're here!


Shane turns to Slater and nudges him... So, knowing Chris Page as closely as you have for so long, what would you say is the biggest of his many, many, many, many, many weaknesses? Or are they all SO goddamn bad there's no way to pick just one?


There’s a smirk from Tristan as he simply shakes his head before stating, ”I mean the laundry list is rather lengthy and I think it’s safe to say that NO ONE knows Chris Page like I know Chris Page; and while the many flaws strike out at me like a venomous snake the ONE glaring thing, the one thing that knocks anyone down with half a brain has to be his ego.”


There’s a nod from Shane as Tristan continues.


”Look at what he’s done here in the XWF since his return… he’s lost to Robert Main, twice. He’s had two different shots at the Universal Championship against two different champions and failed to capture the title… but did he just admit that he was beaten? Nope. What did he do? He’s blamed you, he’s blamed management and he’s blamed anyone under the sun other than his self because blaming his self means he admits he’s a failure. Think about the shit show of excuses he’s going to make when this tag match blows up in his face.”


Wait... he's blamed ME? ME?! Well I just can't figure that one out, but I'm not even going to try.


Moving on... let's shift gears in a very different direction. Here's a real head scratcher if there ever was one... In a recent Robbie Bourbon promo that he aired in preparation for his title shot, that fat piece of shit said something about Robert Main and CCP both passing up opportunities to face the Universal Champ at CUNTfest! Do you think they're really that stupid? Have they gone full tard sac? Could Fat Ass Robbie be right and they PASSED up a chance, or is it more likely that there's no chance in hell the XWF would have given either of them a shot? I personally think it's hilarious that we have random fat like Bourbon commenting on the fact that Robert Main and CCP missing from the title picture is noteworthy! People who aren't even involved with us are noticing how odd it is that Main and Page just AREN'T where they'd have us believe they belong on a pay per view card!


Slater has been nodding the whole time, knowing exactly what Shane is talking about. He's quick to respond with his own thoughts as, ”Now I will say I was still undercover and was present when a phone call came in asking if Chris wanted to step back to the plate and I was there when he refused… but let’s get one thing straight, he didn’t refuse the title match because he didn’t want to challenge for the strap oh no, he refused it because he knows he isn’t capable of knocking off the Engineer! Fuck, had Robert not CASHED IN on the Engineer he wouldn’t have ever lost the title to begin with so they can both fuck off in that regard. They’re both going to sit back and point at the that situation and say they was offered this or they was offered that but IN REALITY if either of them half way believed anything they’re trying to force feed down our throats they would have agreed to the match and got embarrassed again.”


Tristan spits down on the floor before stating.


”That pretty much sums up the excuses for being a couple of cunts.”


Sounds about right, Shane says with a chuckle. Can you imagine a world in which Chris Page and Robert Main get TIRED of being embarrassed? Hell, an entire industry would go down in flames if that happened! Millions would be out of work. They have no idea how important their obliviousness and inability are to the economy. Slater can't help but to nod in agreement as both of them take a moment to appreciate just how important it is to have people in the picture that LOVE being punished and exposed.


All that aside though, Tristan... It's time for us to get real fuckin' serious here. Everyone knows you and I have a storied past, and we'd both be lying if we pretended to be "best lovers" like some like to pretend to be, but I'm about to prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm the only one that's been straight with you the entire time we've known each other. Brace yourself... but I think there's something you need to know about the XWF. I mean, I know how you already feel about it but this will only add to the mounds of shit. Did you know you're on record as having been the reason "The XWF Championship" was retired? And not for a good reason either! Take a look at what the XWF's very own website has tucked away at the bottom of their official title history page!

Shane whips his phone out and pulls something to show Slater...
(08-23-2013, 02:51 PM)XWF Title History Said: XWF Title (defunct)
Tristan C Slater - 7/2/12
Mark Flynn - MITB / 10/8/12
Tristan C Slater / 11/12/12
Scorpio - MITB / 12/12/12
Tristan C Slater -(Title disposed of when Slater tested positive for roids 2nd time in a row!)

See that?!? These scum bags are making it out like you're a steroid abuser and that's why the former TOP TITLE in the company had to be disposed of! I remember begging–pleading–with guys like Vincent Lane to get these records fixed but they insist on being pieces of shit... THEY WOULDN'T LET ME FIX IT!!! Oh, and the best part about it? Notice that "C" they added to your name? We know damn well you're not Tristan C Slater!


”First and foremost I don’t know who the fuck Tristan C. Slater is because that isn’t me. Never in my career have I billed a middle name so whoever the fuck is behind this travesty needs to have a gun put in their mouth and the trigger pulled for being a stupid fucking cunt. It’s no secret I have a checked history with this company and pieces of it came while YOU was at the forefront with decisions and choices you made. We’re past that. They vanquished a title and tried to tarnish my reputation… and fucked that up too.”


Tristan simply shakes his head before laughing under his breath before he states.


”I can’t say I’m surprised if I’m being completely honest because this IS the XWF and it’s always been ran by out of touch fuck nuggets; present company excluded…”


A tip of the cap from Shane, But of course, good sir, and Tristan continues...


”Vinnie and Theo are as out of touch as out of touch can get to the point its simply comical at every turn it’s literally insane. Vinnie is too busy worrying about what’s up on Thursday Nights to see that his major programs are floundering with the lack of legitimate talent and not a fifty year old man rocking a dad bod, right Chris? The bottom line is the XWF Championship retired when I took it with me because there wasn’t a person on the roster worthy enough to hold it. I’m the man that carried this company on his back by becoming the youngest and fastest GRAND SLAM CHAMPION in history by holding every title the federation had at that time. You want to talk about lack of respect, this company should be on its knee sucking my dick because had I not been in the mix there’s no way it would have survived this long, so it’s only fitting that I come back around and kill what I had a piece of creating.”


Tristan C Slater! HA! Still can't get over that. What's next? Shane Scatboi ? That's just a bullshit, sloppy ass tactic to try and protect them from lawsuits after they smeared your name and defame your character! "Uhhhh durr we were'z talkinzo about a different Tristan! We be so clevererer! Dur! DUR! DURDURDUR!!!" That's the bullshit we're up against together here. The Engineer and I are sure we can make this place even BETTER because we have such an natural, unconditional LOVE for it... but that doesn't stop us from recognizing the shit that needs to be plunged out. As far as I'm concerned, these records for The XWF Championship prove only one thing – THAT YOU NEVER LOST THE TITLE! We have a case of a title you relentlessly defended week in and week out without ever losing, yet the "official record" is that they had to trash the belt because you're a roid abuser...


YET GUYS LIKE AMJETKUN SOCIO ARE ON THE ROSTER, CLEARLY JUICING THE LIVING FUCK OUT OF THEMSELVES AND EVEN INFLUENCING OTHERS TO TAKE PART IN STEROID ABUSE, HINT HINT COUGH COUGH VITA VALENTEEN! Oh, did I say any of that too loud? I hope I'm not causing any problems by pointing out more hypocritical and downright criminal decision making on the part of XWF management!


”And this is all the more reason that we have to fix this shit by pulling the plug on this company. With the Engineer as Universal Champion that’s one title that they won’t stake claim to; so the way I see it is we set out and conquer the rest of the gold and then FUCK them the way they FUCKED us…”


”Do tell.”


”Technically a contracted Champion has to defend once every thirty days. We take the titles we take them OFF television outside of our mandated defenses, as a matter of fact not only do we only defend once a month we don’t even show up any other time than when we do defend the titles.”


”I like the way you think.”


”But before I go to deep into that I don’t want to lose sight of what is directly in front of us and regardless of how stupid they look and how dumb they sound we still have to get through the overrated team of Robert Main and Chris Page. I’m not looking past them nor am I discounting what they can bring to the table. I’m ready to ball up my fist and put it down their throats. I want to listen to their screams of pain and stain the canvass with their blood. I don’t just want to win this, I want to embarrass them.”


There’s a sly smirk from as Tristan continues.


”Chris Page lost focus and couldn’t stick to the plan of killing this federation and now his goal is to kill you and anyone associated with you. Bring it! Because what happens when Chris and Robert bring us everything they’ve got come the Pay-Per-View and they’re left laying? Pay attention Chris because I am about to show you what happens when you DON’T take your eye off the ball! Your ass is grass and I’m going to SMOKE IT!”


A sudden jolt followed by a loud screech of metal on metal for a few seconds has Shane looking very pleased as the elevator trek finally comes to a halt...


Shane looks up at Tristan and is about to say something that blows his mind...


(Continued directly in Shane's RP)]]> <![CDATA[La commedia è finita! Part 8: Stranger Than Kindness]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36015 Sat, 25 Jan 2020 18:03:20 -0800 Corey Smith]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=36015

NOW. Australia.


Day has descended into night in the ravaged Australian brush. The halogen glow of a single lantern illuminates three figures as they make their way through the arid thicket, finally reaching a clearing of burnt yellowed grass. Malcolm and The Engineer clear the brush first, but Malcolm's father, trailing from behind, appears to get his dirt smeared robe stuck on some brambles. When The Engineer recognizes the imbecile's predicament, he back tracks, growling some invectives, and helps free him. But, upon being freed, the now unmasked acolyte promptly stumbles down onto his hands and knees.

Get up. The Engineer orders.

The man simply remains on his knees for a moment, body swaying, until he finally keels forward and retches violently. The light from the lantern catches a reflection of the sick, revealing that it's a nasty sheen of half bile and half blood.

Malcolm approaches his father and wrenches him up to a standing position with his free arm, pulling him away before he's even finished puking and causing him to soil the front of his robe with the final strings of his vomit.

Over there should do. He indicates a clear patch of land and Malcolm deposits his father there unceremoniously. The elder man drops onto his side, chest hitching with inconsistent breaths, a wet rattle catching in his throat.

The Engineer looks skyward at the pale sliver of the moon hanging above them. With a feral half smile he bellows out a howl. Awwwrrrrooooooooooo! Then, withdrawing the gas canister he was still holding, he sets it down in the clearing near the invalid. The honor is yours, if you want it.

Malcolm looks down at the broken shell of his tormentor, his own expression hovering between contempt and something more mysterious. He hoists the lantern to better encompass the sickly huddling mass in it's light. He's so small now.

Approaching Malcolm to take up a side by side position, he removes some leather gloves he was wearing. Does it feel good?

Malcolm doesn't respond right away, but when he does his tone is even and circumspect. It feels strange. For so long I feared this man. Obeyed this man without question. Tried my best to live up to an ideal that he himself could never reach. He stops speaking, and when he resumes some acrid bitterness is there now too. He always seemed so big when he beat me.

But does it feel GOOD?

It feels.... He stops to collect his thoughts, and when he finally finds the right word, you can almost see the weight carried off his shoulders as it passes through his lips. Free. It feels free.

The Engineer turns towards Malcolm. Do you regret it? Those terrible things we did? The things we are about to do?

I regret that they had to happen. I regret that they were necessary. Malcolm goes stony. But I don't regret doing them. I don't regret taking my life back at his expense. He was broken. Beyond repair.

Reaching up to pat his shoulder, he speaks in a hushed tone. Take all the time you need. Savor it. Make it feel right for you. I got a last bit of business to take care of.

He turns away from Malcolm, peeling off from him like a shadow as he picks up the lantern and steps away from the clearing with it. He replaces it closer to the copse of dead trees behind him, and in the dead of light with nothing but the scant illumination of the moon and the lantern, the devastation looks all the more eerie. The trees appear as the blackened bones of some great beast half buried in the scorched land, a hellish monstrosity felled long ago in a more barbarous mythic age.

Don't mind me, wanna make sure I get those evil angles just right. You know what I queen I am for that drama. He chuckles. But you know, I'm actually quite upset by your latest verbal sphincter unclench. He works his jaw, grinding his molars together and shaking his head. Yeah, you really did piss me off with that last one! I mean, I know I'm not supposed to get pissed because “Oh My God, WEAKNESS!” but I just can't help it!

He stands with his hands on his hips, looking like he's fixing to spit fire. Robbie, you have the GALL to compare my monologues to Ozymandias or some Bond villain? (Side bar, if I was one though, I'm definitely May Day. Whole “caucasian persuasion” incongruence aside, I definitely got them sexy cheek bones).

I am absolutely nothing short of Christoph Waltz's opening monologue from Inglorious Basterds. I will broach no argument.

And to say nothing for the fact that you bitched about my monologuing WHILE YOU MONOLOGUED! Jesus foot washing CHRIST Robbie, are you capable of even a shred of insight? Nah, that's a tall order for one Robbie Bourbon. And hey, you know what else I got a good chuckle out of? You taking me to task for walking through some gloom and doomy set piece. Admittedly, that was a tough one though. Do you know how hard it is finding a spot that captures the true, unfettered essence of existential angst?

He pauses looking contemplative.

Actually, not that hard, considering it was a thematic focus of EVERYTHING YOU'VE BEEN DOING THE LAST TWO WEEKS. Maybe you would have seen how bad it was in the Australian bush if you ever left the comfy confines of your circus big top. But just like everything else about you that reeks of hypocrisy, color me SHOCKED that you mischaracterized all that real world devastation as some contrived super villain stage prop.

But you know what? All that equivocating about how trite I am, how cliché I am? It's all just a facile attempt to move the goal posts back and flood the zone with shit. Because after I called out your hollow excuses for why you dumped the Universal Championship...

“Oh, oh, it was ennui and cynicism but I got better.” The Engineer makes a buzzer sound.

“Oh, but then it was I got mad because I wasn't being booked against strong competition even though it never once occurred to me I could ASK to fight someone because I enjoy tucking my penis between my thighs.” He makes an even louder buzzing sound.

Nope! After I kicked both those excuses to the curb you clapped back with nary a real response to be found. And whyyyyyyyy? Because you have nothing to refute it with. You BAILED on your people, you BAILED on the XWF, and then you tried to pass the BourbCo buck off on everybody but yourself for your abject cowardice.

And when I showed time and time again that your pretensions of being some paragon of life and virtue were HORSE SHIT, you came at me with verbal diarrhea like “hurr durr Engy listens to opera how trite”, ignoring the fact that in my earlier promo I explained the significance of Pagliacci but your response amounted to pulling a chunk of salisbury steak out of your navel and going “Nobody cares! Alexa, put on OW, MY BALLS ”. Whoa, MASTERSTROKE! It's like casting pearls before swine wearing little luchador masks, I swear! Not to mention saying my whole “goes and gets stabbed, brazenly seduce attacker, fuck each other, kill his dad to emphasize I'm awful to promote a wrestling match” romancing style was cliché....? Well then I would LOVE to know what kink clubs you're going to that that is on the regular, sunshine! Sign me up all day! He flashes a thumbs up.

Lets stay on this topic a bit longer shall we? Because after that last synaptic death rattle of a promo you actually did a TON of work for me on that front. You keep INSISTING that you're the yin to my yang, life to my death, good cholesterol to my bad cholesterol (wait, which one ARE you, again? Eugh, scratch that last one).

Time after time I have accused you of being a pretender, a fake, a fraud! And you've been for want of a bit of water to quell those flames. Well, thanks to this most recent “effort”, we see why. YOU DRANK THE WATER. Hell, you probably even pushed a little dehydrated Ethiopian kid out of the way to do it too. Yeah, lets talk about Mike Whatshisfuck. You know Robbie, I was really, really hoping that the end of that tale of weal and woe was going to end with the dramatic reveal that... He slaps his cheeks playfully ….it was you all along! Holy fuck, maybe Robbie actually has some depth after all.

But nah, maybe that would have been too “cliche”. Turned out it was just some weird close talker. But Robbie, being the man of the people he is...being the paragon of HOPE that he is, I'm sure he turned that poor man's life around and really, REALLY showed how much he car-OH SHIT I CAN'T EVEN FINISH! The Engineer collapses into peals of laughter and has to take a moment to recover.

Nah, Robbie didn't help a goddamn soul. By his own admission he tried to bail straight back out of the conversation (smart money's on Mike getting in the way of Robbie sweatin' some BBW at the end of the bar), and when he couldn't extricate himself he offered up some fortune cookie platitudes about how he's stronger now, and can pick his own path, and his lucky numbers are 12,4,86, and 2.

Oh yes Robbie, how REAL that example is. How GRITTY. Except for the fact that, in the end, you did absolutely fucking nothing. Poor Mike Whosawits is just gonna wake up the next morning with a hangover and maybe a vague recollection of some fat guy in a mask playing at “Confucius Sez”. But his life is going to be the exact same dung pile it was before he met you. Once again, you prove that when push comes to shove, you really don't care that much, do you? Yeah, maybe the only person you really carry all that hope around for is yourself.

Oh, oh, but because Robbie has as yet unrevealed precognitive abilities in addition to a photographic memory of the cheap Chinese knock off to the cheap Chinese knock off of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robbie is able to conclusively predict that Malcolm will end up just like that sad sack Mike. Malcolm, you wanna field this one?

Malcolm rouses from his revelry at the mention of his name. He approaches the camera tentatively, having never actually spoken directly to The Engineer's competition before. He stands before the camera, at first casting his gaze abashedly away from the all seeing eye.

Robbie, I heard what you had to see about me. In fact, you had a lot to say about me this whole time. You sure wanna sound like you know me. But you don't know me, man. He looks up at the camera, a flash of defiance in his eyes. But I'm one a your people, right? You GOT me. You GOT me! Right here. He pats his chest, above his heart. Or is that just where your wallet is? His lip curls up in a sneer that drops down into a sardonic smile.

I WAS like Mike, Robbie. A fucked up kid who just wanted to tell somebody. Who just wanted somebody to care. All my life, a teacher, a nurse, a doctor, a neighbor. I waited for somebody to care. But it didn't happen. Yeah, somebody DID call Child Protection once, but it never went nowhere and I got tore up after real good. This time though my daddy made sure it wasn't nowhere visible. He got smarter about it after that. And I learned that so long as I stayed his quiet little simpering pride and joy we could go along to get along. So I stopped fightin'.

I poured myself into football and basketball. Worked out. Good genes helped. Physically, I mean. Got bigger than the old man but still, STILL, always felt smaller. Stayed in New York and worked a couple summers after high school to save some money for school. Got accepted into University of Mississippi, full ride athletic scholarship too. All in all, I was my daddy's prodigal. Too bad I had a secret. I was gay.

I was back home this past summer on break. He found a letter I had written to a boy I spotted at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. I thought he was cute, but I didn't have the balls to give the letter to him. I tossed the letter in the trash. He found it and.... His gaze breaks from the camera once again. I went back to feelin' so small again. All over again. I tried to go back to school but...I couldn't....I just.... He trails off. The Engineer watches him but says nothing. I fucked up and washed out. I didn't know where else to go so I came home. I couch surfed when I could. Spent a little time in a shelter. I couldn't get my shit together....I couldn't.... His voice breaks, but he glowers at the camera. I was little again, man! I was so little! Just that let mother fucker beat me like I was five all over again! His tone rises, his affect becoming more animated. That shit came in my dreams, man! It came in my dreams! And yeah, just like when I was little, I woulda killed for somebody to listen to me. To care. But everybody was like you, Robbie. Fake and just not willin' to put themselves out too much.

But I did find somebody who listened. HIM. He gestures at The Engineer. And I know what you're thinkin'. That I'm just some dumb kid gettin' used. And the only thing I gotta say to that? NO SHIT. You think I don't know he's a bastard? Why do you think I stabbed him in the first place? But for as much of a bastard as he is, he actually took the time. He didn't just lie to my face like the fake do-gooders did....like you STILL do. He showed me that yeah, when you cut right down to the bone, everybody's just usin' everybody else. He's gonna use me to further his cause and I used him to help me come out from under that vile fucker over there. The sex was pretty good too.

Oh, I'm sorry, am I BORING you with my SOB story? Turns out I'm not the doe eyed innocent you thought I was, huh? Poor dumb Malcolm being led astray. Not knowing what he's getting into. Bitch, like you know me! Like you knew my daddy, talkin' all this shit about how one day he mighta seen the light. You are one naïve motherfucker, aren't you Robbie? You don't think real evil exists in this world? Then who were all those child traffickers and insurance scumbags you beat up? Oh shit, maybe you shoulda given them more of a chance to change too before you broke their jaws and put them in traction.

I KNEW I didn't need that man's approval Robbie, I KNEW what he did was wrong. And I knew that, along the way, nobody helped me. Not even myself. I let that bastard victimize me over and over. And I had all this anger but didn't have the courage to do what I needed to do with it. He looks at the champion. But he focused me. Showed me what to do with that anger. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel so small. I don't need to tell a sob story. And I don't need to wait for the “help” or approval of a fake piece of shit like you, Robbie Bourbon!

The Engineer runs his hand up and down Malcolm's back supportively. He cracks a grin. The kid's a natural!

We practiced a smidge.

Just a smidge. But yeah, anyway Robbie, turns out that whole “making a totally unfounded allegation that's completely devoid of supporting evidence” thing bit you again. Malcolm's doing okay. You however? Not so much! Because you have showed your whole ass to the entire world. The whole thing. Two flatscreens worth. Because Mister Hopey Changey is actually “Mr. Fuck a Sob Story” now. Your last line said it all. “If I'm a leave a story, the story of Robbie Bourbon, at least I have the dignity to leave a happy one.” Because that's what it really boils down to, doesn't it? Robbie Bourbon's story. It always has. You have always been an incredibly selfish, self centered, glory driven man with pretensions of being more. Pretensions you often fell WELL short of. Do we really need ANOTHER example? Because....I have another example!

See Robbie, after you brought it to the table I just HAD to look into this Pest guy. I'm a second rate him? Man, this dude must have been GORGEOUS! Imagine my disappointment when it turned out he was the creepy middle aged guy who always insists on the computer at the pubic library nobody else can see. So then I did some more digging (read, calling Shane) and found out just what that creeper was peepin' on that computer!

So guess what kids? Mr. Fun Time? Mr. Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Rightness? The anointed hero of the DRAMA Bot Wars?

(Boy I really wish I had a megaphone right now)

ROBBIE WORKED WITH AN ACTUAL FUCKING PEDOPHILE!

AND HE KNEW PEST WAS A PEDOPHILE!

RUH ROH! Exhibit A!


Was that an ennui thing back then too?! I mean, say what you want about the soft core porn I produce but at least my strange is legal. You're done, man. In fact you're overdone like a Trump Steak and twice as gristly. Any possible ethical or moral high ground you claimed to have over me is ceded. This whole notion that you are the light beating back my darkness is DEAD.

In fact, you are the very personification of my point. There are no heroes. None. And every goddamn thing I said about you, every claim that I made that you are nothing more than a craven opportunist with no moral leg to stand on, a man who will do anything or claim to be anything to get ahead, is conclusively PROVEN.

You. Are. Done.

And the best part? The sweetest part? All you have really accomplished is to edge the world just that much closer to understanding that nothing matters. Because if the guy who claims to be the antithesis of ME is just some uncaring selfish dick who sees other people's pain as a boring irrelevancy as he tries to paper over knowingly associating with kiddy diddlers, then where is the light? Where is the hope?

The Engineer leans in to the camera.

Nowhere.

The world's not easy, Robbie. Fixing what's broken isn't as clean or cliché (heh) as pushing a button on a phone and shutting the whole problem down. It's not as simple as your brain damaged claim that all we need is fun to cure what ails us. It's all so much WORSE than that. The problem is housed in your primate brains. You're programmed to HURT each other, continuously, over and over again. You're programmed to kill your own planet to make a buck. You're programmed to prioritize war and slaughter over caring for your own. And most of all (and this one should ring more than a few bells for you, Robbie) you're programmed to be SELFISH.

Robbie, you and people like you are the real virus. And the only thing that will cure a virus this deeply entrenched is complete and utter annihilation. Catharsis in blood and violence on a mass scale, sending the stultifying status quo of this planet spiraling into its death throes. And unlike with you Robbie these aren't just pretty words or petty monologuing, this is a call to action!

Don't wait for hope or idle distractions to swoop down and save you. Don't turn to to the hollow paeans of hypocrites like Robbie Bourbon for guidance.

TAKE UP A WEAPON AND KILL WHAT HURTS YOU. And hell, while you're at it, make a spectacle of it! You know, for “funsies”! He laughs.

I WISH this battle of ours was as epic as it could have been. I wish this could have been some larger-than-life fuckoff good versus evil throw down for the ages. But it turns out you're not such a good guy and the supposed evil guy is the only one who listens and knows the score. Meh. But hey Robbie, you go ahead and keep calling me a walking cliché if you think that's what works for you. I mean, hell, I've already shot up every other imbecilic argument you've made. But the cold hard fact is that I'm not paid to dance for you Robbie. I don't need to entertain you or conform to what you think I SHOULD be. No, I just need to beat you. And I will. I'm going to run circles around your ego inflated bloated body, kicking and punishing the dragon back down to a serviceable size. I'll keep Sloane's playbook handy just in case.

I'm going to roll you onto your back, and you'll struggle to roll back over. Maybe by that point your legs will be so battered and fractured they can't even hold you aloft. Maybe you'll be blinded by my “Eau de Tom Hardy” by that point too. Oh, but isn't that a delicious thought! A beat down and visionless Robbie Bourbon, scrambling about in the dark with his belly bared to the world.

And then, I'm going to rip your guts out. I'm going to show the entire world how empty YOU are inside. That beneath the bluster and the self aggrandizement you were just another weak challenger propping yourself up on a pedestal of lies and false legend. But hey, look on the bright side. Maybe it'll give you an excuse to come back in six months and pretend all over again that you're not a colassal piece of shit.

The Engineer looks over at Malcolm's father, who has gone still. His chest still rises and falls, but barely. Malcolm, are you ready?

Malcolm's only reply is to pick up the gas canister without hesitation and begin the march to his father's prostrate body.

Last Week....


Malcolm's father breaks through to consciousness floating on a cloud. His eyes flutter open and are instantly hit with a scorching light above him. But his body feels weightless and detached, a comfortably numb sensation prickles his skin. It takes a few moments for his mind to catch up to his circumstances, and when the who, what, and where's finally come calling, his heart starts to hammer in his chest. He remembers being attacked by his son and that other boy. He remembers the needle in his neck and....

[Image: evil-doctor.jpg]

A face he does not recognizes eclipses the light for a moment. Time seems to be at a crawl, giving him ample opportunity to consider those eyes, those soulless, depthless windows. They were penetrating, horrifying somehow. And when the man tried to avert his eyes he found he could not. His body simply wouldn't respond. I'm paralyzed. The panic started to reach a fevered pitch now. What's going on? What's going on?!

The doctor's face drifted out of view then, putting him back under the worrying consideration of that light, that round brilliant light that was starting to look so familiar. A surgical lamp.

Hhhhheeeee iiiiissss aaawwwwaaaake.

The voice came out ponderously, sounding drawn out and far away.

Goooood. Another voice, this one sounding a bit more familiar.

Malcolm's father tried to re-exert control over his body, flexing his muscles, trying to move an arm even if it's just an inch. But nothing. Nothing at all. Panic and rage started to draw together into a morass of ill intent. You fuckers! YOU FUCKERS! I'll kill you!

Another moment passed, and he became dimly aware of some activity near at his side, but he couldn't crane his neck to look. He was at the mercy of the unknown. Just then, that boy who was with his son came into view, standing just above him. He favored one side, and the top most part of a cane in his hand was just visible. But it was his expression that felled the man the most. It was just an absence, a nothing, like this young man was considering a mote of dust drifting through a sun beam. You may begin. The words came faster now as the haze lingering at the edges of his vision abated just a bit.

There was a strange sensation then, a prodding somewhere in his lower abdomen. Not painful, but distinct. Someone's touching me. His heart knocked. Get your fucking hands off me! But the sensation only intensified, a discrete poking followed by a constant pressure somewhere down below. It was the not seeing that was the worst, the sheer powerlessness of it all. STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP! STOP! STOP! The bizarre feelings continued, until he could hear the clatter of metal on metal. All the while, this leering little brat was staring at him. He wanted to spit at him, bite his shitty little white boy face and rip a chunk of it off. You little FA**OT! YOU LITTLE FUCKING FA**OT! This little shit must be buggering my son, he reasoned. Pumping him full of sickness, full of AIDS, or any number of other diseases this perverts were always infected with.

The boy was handed a metal surgical tray then. It was covered in blood and in the center of it a pulpy mass of flesh. The flesh looked alien, foreign at first. Because what he was looking at was impossible, impossible that it would be on this tray and apart from him. Impossible because if what he were seeing were real and not just the byproduct of some booze induced nightmare then his mind would shatter and break into millions of disparate pieces, never to be reassembled.

Even still, he came to recognize the flesh as his own genitals.

The Engineer displayed his manhood on the tray so that he might see them. A scream rose up in the man's chest but had nowhere to go, so it simply stayed in there, ricocheting around and bouncing off his hammering heart. And in that moment his mind started to slip it's tether, the room started to spin and his stomach involuntarily bucked and lurched. Vomit spewed up and over his lips and The Engineer canted his head to the left in response so that it would dribble out and onto the gurney. No, you don't get to go like that.

If Malcolm's father could have sobbed and broken down into insane shrieks he would have. But once again, the insanity had nowhere to go. It stayed within, trapped like a raging fire deep inside, his body serving as a closed Pandora's box holding in all manner of awfulness.

The doctor came round again. This time he grabbed hold of the man's bottom jaw, violently repositioning his head and forcing open his maw, jamming some sadistic looking handled tool between his teeth. So far gone was he that he didn't hear his front teeth break as the metal of the tool ground against them recklessly. He just kept screaming and screaming inside, praying to God for death. But death wouldn't come. All that came was another strange pressure, this time from within his mouth, followed by a abrupt release of that pressure. The tool came free of his face, and within it's jaws was another pulpy mass of flesh. His tongue.

The doctor pushed his face down, and blood ran freely from between his lips. His thoughts were no longer even remotely close to being formed of coherent words or phrases, no, they had descended into nothing more than animal terror and a desire to simply be GONE, to be no longer of this Earth.

After a moment of the blood being allowed to filter from his mouth, his head was jerked upright again. The boy was there once more, bearing that same dead eyed glower. But so far detached was Malcolm's father that the boy barely registered. His entire world was fire and madness. He barely even noticed as the thin metal prong was raised to his eye socket and inserted. Then, a small hammer was produced by the doctor, who proceeded to gently tap, tap, tap the end of the metal prong. Each gentle tap was like a roar of thunder in the man's brain. His eye went black with blood as full blown psychotic mania took hold.

Only one thing broke through the chaos before Malcolm's father finally succumbed to the madness. That boy's voice once more, whispering in his ear.

La commedia e finita.....

NOW


The Engineer watched Malcolm watch his father burn. He had spared the young man the details of his father's transition into being an acolyte. He wasn't quite sure how exactly the nitty gritty would play out. But Malcolm had never asked either. Maybe he didn't care.

At any rate, the boy stood looking damn near majestic before the roaring flame, and The Engineer reflected on all that he had done for Malcolm. The chances he took. And even now, he struggled with what precisely had brought him to this point. Robbie was right about one thing, the boy COULD be a suitable host in the future. But was that what he had wanted from the beginning?

The Engineer knew that what he had done for Malcolm wasn't a kindness. It was stranger than kindness. A trial by fire of sorts that The Engineer had been shocked to find the young man passing at every turn. And yet, he couldn't help but feel that amidst all of this there was something undefinable he wasn't seeing. Hidden behind a veil, just out of reach. An urgent sense of something both intriguing and frightening. Something powerful, threateningly so.

Its love... The voice came like a whisper on the wind. The Engineer spun about, eyes scanning the brush for the source of the voice. But nothing was there.

Nothing at all.


[OOC: HOPE YOU WEREN'T EATING! Seriously though, that's it from me for this series. Hope you all liked it. Big, big props to Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon for hanging in there with me and cutting some killer promos. I appreciate all the work you did. Thanks for being a great opponent. ]]]>

NOW. Australia.


Day has descended into night in the ravaged Australian brush. The halogen glow of a single lantern illuminates three figures as they make their way through the arid thicket, finally reaching a clearing of burnt yellowed grass. Malcolm and The Engineer clear the brush first, but Malcolm's father, trailing from behind, appears to get his dirt smeared robe stuck on some brambles. When The Engineer recognizes the imbecile's predicament, he back tracks, growling some invectives, and helps free him. But, upon being freed, the now unmasked acolyte promptly stumbles down onto his hands and knees.

Get up. The Engineer orders.

The man simply remains on his knees for a moment, body swaying, until he finally keels forward and retches violently. The light from the lantern catches a reflection of the sick, revealing that it's a nasty sheen of half bile and half blood.

Malcolm approaches his father and wrenches him up to a standing position with his free arm, pulling him away before he's even finished puking and causing him to soil the front of his robe with the final strings of his vomit.

Over there should do. He indicates a clear patch of land and Malcolm deposits his father there unceremoniously. The elder man drops onto his side, chest hitching with inconsistent breaths, a wet rattle catching in his throat.

The Engineer looks skyward at the pale sliver of the moon hanging above them. With a feral half smile he bellows out a howl. Awwwrrrrooooooooooo! Then, withdrawing the gas canister he was still holding, he sets it down in the clearing near the invalid. The honor is yours, if you want it.

Malcolm looks down at the broken shell of his tormentor, his own expression hovering between contempt and something more mysterious. He hoists the lantern to better encompass the sickly huddling mass in it's light. He's so small now.

Approaching Malcolm to take up a side by side position, he removes some leather gloves he was wearing. Does it feel good?

Malcolm doesn't respond right away, but when he does his tone is even and circumspect. It feels strange. For so long I feared this man. Obeyed this man without question. Tried my best to live up to an ideal that he himself could never reach. He stops speaking, and when he resumes some acrid bitterness is there now too. He always seemed so big when he beat me.

But does it feel GOOD?

It feels.... He stops to collect his thoughts, and when he finally finds the right word, you can almost see the weight carried off his shoulders as it passes through his lips. Free. It feels free.

The Engineer turns towards Malcolm. Do you regret it? Those terrible things we did? The things we are about to do?

I regret that they had to happen. I regret that they were necessary. Malcolm goes stony. But I don't regret doing them. I don't regret taking my life back at his expense. He was broken. Beyond repair.

Reaching up to pat his shoulder, he speaks in a hushed tone. Take all the time you need. Savor it. Make it feel right for you. I got a last bit of business to take care of.

He turns away from Malcolm, peeling off from him like a shadow as he picks up the lantern and steps away from the clearing with it. He replaces it closer to the copse of dead trees behind him, and in the dead of light with nothing but the scant illumination of the moon and the lantern, the devastation looks all the more eerie. The trees appear as the blackened bones of some great beast half buried in the scorched land, a hellish monstrosity felled long ago in a more barbarous mythic age.

Don't mind me, wanna make sure I get those evil angles just right. You know what I queen I am for that drama. He chuckles. But you know, I'm actually quite upset by your latest verbal sphincter unclench. He works his jaw, grinding his molars together and shaking his head. Yeah, you really did piss me off with that last one! I mean, I know I'm not supposed to get pissed because “Oh My God, WEAKNESS!” but I just can't help it!

He stands with his hands on his hips, looking like he's fixing to spit fire. Robbie, you have the GALL to compare my monologues to Ozymandias or some Bond villain? (Side bar, if I was one though, I'm definitely May Day. Whole “caucasian persuasion” incongruence aside, I definitely got them sexy cheek bones).

I am absolutely nothing short of Christoph Waltz's opening monologue from Inglorious Basterds. I will broach no argument.

And to say nothing for the fact that you bitched about my monologuing WHILE YOU MONOLOGUED! Jesus foot washing CHRIST Robbie, are you capable of even a shred of insight? Nah, that's a tall order for one Robbie Bourbon. And hey, you know what else I got a good chuckle out of? You taking me to task for walking through some gloom and doomy set piece. Admittedly, that was a tough one though. Do you know how hard it is finding a spot that captures the true, unfettered essence of existential angst?

He pauses looking contemplative.

Actually, not that hard, considering it was a thematic focus of EVERYTHING YOU'VE BEEN DOING THE LAST TWO WEEKS. Maybe you would have seen how bad it was in the Australian bush if you ever left the comfy confines of your circus big top. But just like everything else about you that reeks of hypocrisy, color me SHOCKED that you mischaracterized all that real world devastation as some contrived super villain stage prop.

But you know what? All that equivocating about how trite I am, how cliché I am? It's all just a facile attempt to move the goal posts back and flood the zone with shit. Because after I called out your hollow excuses for why you dumped the Universal Championship...

“Oh, oh, it was ennui and cynicism but I got better.” The Engineer makes a buzzer sound.

“Oh, but then it was I got mad because I wasn't being booked against strong competition even though it never once occurred to me I could ASK to fight someone because I enjoy tucking my penis between my thighs.” He makes an even louder buzzing sound.

Nope! After I kicked both those excuses to the curb you clapped back with nary a real response to be found. And whyyyyyyyy? Because you have nothing to refute it with. You BAILED on your people, you BAILED on the XWF, and then you tried to pass the BourbCo buck off on everybody but yourself for your abject cowardice.

And when I showed time and time again that your pretensions of being some paragon of life and virtue were HORSE SHIT, you came at me with verbal diarrhea like “hurr durr Engy listens to opera how trite”, ignoring the fact that in my earlier promo I explained the significance of Pagliacci but your response amounted to pulling a chunk of salisbury steak out of your navel and going “Nobody cares! Alexa, put on OW, MY BALLS ”. Whoa, MASTERSTROKE! It's like casting pearls before swine wearing little luchador masks, I swear! Not to mention saying my whole “goes and gets stabbed, brazenly seduce attacker, fuck each other, kill his dad to emphasize I'm awful to promote a wrestling match” romancing style was cliché....? Well then I would LOVE to know what kink clubs you're going to that that is on the regular, sunshine! Sign me up all day! He flashes a thumbs up.

Lets stay on this topic a bit longer shall we? Because after that last synaptic death rattle of a promo you actually did a TON of work for me on that front. You keep INSISTING that you're the yin to my yang, life to my death, good cholesterol to my bad cholesterol (wait, which one ARE you, again? Eugh, scratch that last one).

Time after time I have accused you of being a pretender, a fake, a fraud! And you've been for want of a bit of water to quell those flames. Well, thanks to this most recent “effort”, we see why. YOU DRANK THE WATER. Hell, you probably even pushed a little dehydrated Ethiopian kid out of the way to do it too. Yeah, lets talk about Mike Whatshisfuck. You know Robbie, I was really, really hoping that the end of that tale of weal and woe was going to end with the dramatic reveal that... He slaps his cheeks playfully ….it was you all along! Holy fuck, maybe Robbie actually has some depth after all.

But nah, maybe that would have been too “cliche”. Turned out it was just some weird close talker. But Robbie, being the man of the people he is...being the paragon of HOPE that he is, I'm sure he turned that poor man's life around and really, REALLY showed how much he car-OH SHIT I CAN'T EVEN FINISH! The Engineer collapses into peals of laughter and has to take a moment to recover.

Nah, Robbie didn't help a goddamn soul. By his own admission he tried to bail straight back out of the conversation (smart money's on Mike getting in the way of Robbie sweatin' some BBW at the end of the bar), and when he couldn't extricate himself he offered up some fortune cookie platitudes about how he's stronger now, and can pick his own path, and his lucky numbers are 12,4,86, and 2.

Oh yes Robbie, how REAL that example is. How GRITTY. Except for the fact that, in the end, you did absolutely fucking nothing. Poor Mike Whosawits is just gonna wake up the next morning with a hangover and maybe a vague recollection of some fat guy in a mask playing at “Confucius Sez”. But his life is going to be the exact same dung pile it was before he met you. Once again, you prove that when push comes to shove, you really don't care that much, do you? Yeah, maybe the only person you really carry all that hope around for is yourself.

Oh, oh, but because Robbie has as yet unrevealed precognitive abilities in addition to a photographic memory of the cheap Chinese knock off to the cheap Chinese knock off of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robbie is able to conclusively predict that Malcolm will end up just like that sad sack Mike. Malcolm, you wanna field this one?

Malcolm rouses from his revelry at the mention of his name. He approaches the camera tentatively, having never actually spoken directly to The Engineer's competition before. He stands before the camera, at first casting his gaze abashedly away from the all seeing eye.

Robbie, I heard what you had to see about me. In fact, you had a lot to say about me this whole time. You sure wanna sound like you know me. But you don't know me, man. He looks up at the camera, a flash of defiance in his eyes. But I'm one a your people, right? You GOT me. You GOT me! Right here. He pats his chest, above his heart. Or is that just where your wallet is? His lip curls up in a sneer that drops down into a sardonic smile.

I WAS like Mike, Robbie. A fucked up kid who just wanted to tell somebody. Who just wanted somebody to care. All my life, a teacher, a nurse, a doctor, a neighbor. I waited for somebody to care. But it didn't happen. Yeah, somebody DID call Child Protection once, but it never went nowhere and I got tore up after real good. This time though my daddy made sure it wasn't nowhere visible. He got smarter about it after that. And I learned that so long as I stayed his quiet little simpering pride and joy we could go along to get along. So I stopped fightin'.

I poured myself into football and basketball. Worked out. Good genes helped. Physically, I mean. Got bigger than the old man but still, STILL, always felt smaller. Stayed in New York and worked a couple summers after high school to save some money for school. Got accepted into University of Mississippi, full ride athletic scholarship too. All in all, I was my daddy's prodigal. Too bad I had a secret. I was gay.

I was back home this past summer on break. He found a letter I had written to a boy I spotted at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. I thought he was cute, but I didn't have the balls to give the letter to him. I tossed the letter in the trash. He found it and.... His gaze breaks from the camera once again. I went back to feelin' so small again. All over again. I tried to go back to school but...I couldn't....I just.... He trails off. The Engineer watches him but says nothing. I fucked up and washed out. I didn't know where else to go so I came home. I couch surfed when I could. Spent a little time in a shelter. I couldn't get my shit together....I couldn't.... His voice breaks, but he glowers at the camera. I was little again, man! I was so little! Just that let mother fucker beat me like I was five all over again! His tone rises, his affect becoming more animated. That shit came in my dreams, man! It came in my dreams! And yeah, just like when I was little, I woulda killed for somebody to listen to me. To care. But everybody was like you, Robbie. Fake and just not willin' to put themselves out too much.

But I did find somebody who listened. HIM. He gestures at The Engineer. And I know what you're thinkin'. That I'm just some dumb kid gettin' used. And the only thing I gotta say to that? NO SHIT. You think I don't know he's a bastard? Why do you think I stabbed him in the first place? But for as much of a bastard as he is, he actually took the time. He didn't just lie to my face like the fake do-gooders did....like you STILL do. He showed me that yeah, when you cut right down to the bone, everybody's just usin' everybody else. He's gonna use me to further his cause and I used him to help me come out from under that vile fucker over there. The sex was pretty good too.

Oh, I'm sorry, am I BORING you with my SOB story? Turns out I'm not the doe eyed innocent you thought I was, huh? Poor dumb Malcolm being led astray. Not knowing what he's getting into. Bitch, like you know me! Like you knew my daddy, talkin' all this shit about how one day he mighta seen the light. You are one naïve motherfucker, aren't you Robbie? You don't think real evil exists in this world? Then who were all those child traffickers and insurance scumbags you beat up? Oh shit, maybe you shoulda given them more of a chance to change too before you broke their jaws and put them in traction.

I KNEW I didn't need that man's approval Robbie, I KNEW what he did was wrong. And I knew that, along the way, nobody helped me. Not even myself. I let that bastard victimize me over and over. And I had all this anger but didn't have the courage to do what I needed to do with it. He looks at the champion. But he focused me. Showed me what to do with that anger. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel so small. I don't need to tell a sob story. And I don't need to wait for the “help” or approval of a fake piece of shit like you, Robbie Bourbon!

The Engineer runs his hand up and down Malcolm's back supportively. He cracks a grin. The kid's a natural!

We practiced a smidge.

Just a smidge. But yeah, anyway Robbie, turns out that whole “making a totally unfounded allegation that's completely devoid of supporting evidence” thing bit you again. Malcolm's doing okay. You however? Not so much! Because you have showed your whole ass to the entire world. The whole thing. Two flatscreens worth. Because Mister Hopey Changey is actually “Mr. Fuck a Sob Story” now. Your last line said it all. “If I'm a leave a story, the story of Robbie Bourbon, at least I have the dignity to leave a happy one.” Because that's what it really boils down to, doesn't it? Robbie Bourbon's story. It always has. You have always been an incredibly selfish, self centered, glory driven man with pretensions of being more. Pretensions you often fell WELL short of. Do we really need ANOTHER example? Because....I have another example!

See Robbie, after you brought it to the table I just HAD to look into this Pest guy. I'm a second rate him? Man, this dude must have been GORGEOUS! Imagine my disappointment when it turned out he was the creepy middle aged guy who always insists on the computer at the pubic library nobody else can see. So then I did some more digging (read, calling Shane) and found out just what that creeper was peepin' on that computer!

So guess what kids? Mr. Fun Time? Mr. Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Rightness? The anointed hero of the DRAMA Bot Wars?

(Boy I really wish I had a megaphone right now)

ROBBIE WORKED WITH AN ACTUAL FUCKING PEDOPHILE!

AND HE KNEW PEST WAS A PEDOPHILE!

RUH ROH! Exhibit A!


Was that an ennui thing back then too?! I mean, say what you want about the soft core porn I produce but at least my strange is legal. You're done, man. In fact you're overdone like a Trump Steak and twice as gristly. Any possible ethical or moral high ground you claimed to have over me is ceded. This whole notion that you are the light beating back my darkness is DEAD.

In fact, you are the very personification of my point. There are no heroes. None. And every goddamn thing I said about you, every claim that I made that you are nothing more than a craven opportunist with no moral leg to stand on, a man who will do anything or claim to be anything to get ahead, is conclusively PROVEN.

You. Are. Done.

And the best part? The sweetest part? All you have really accomplished is to edge the world just that much closer to understanding that nothing matters. Because if the guy who claims to be the antithesis of ME is just some uncaring selfish dick who sees other people's pain as a boring irrelevancy as he tries to paper over knowingly associating with kiddy diddlers, then where is the light? Where is the hope?

The Engineer leans in to the camera.

Nowhere.

The world's not easy, Robbie. Fixing what's broken isn't as clean or cliché (heh) as pushing a button on a phone and shutting the whole problem down. It's not as simple as your brain damaged claim that all we need is fun to cure what ails us. It's all so much WORSE than that. The problem is housed in your primate brains. You're programmed to HURT each other, continuously, over and over again. You're programmed to kill your own planet to make a buck. You're programmed to prioritize war and slaughter over caring for your own. And most of all (and this one should ring more than a few bells for you, Robbie) you're programmed to be SELFISH.

Robbie, you and people like you are the real virus. And the only thing that will cure a virus this deeply entrenched is complete and utter annihilation. Catharsis in blood and violence on a mass scale, sending the stultifying status quo of this planet spiraling into its death throes. And unlike with you Robbie these aren't just pretty words or petty monologuing, this is a call to action!

Don't wait for hope or idle distractions to swoop down and save you. Don't turn to to the hollow paeans of hypocrites like Robbie Bourbon for guidance.

TAKE UP A WEAPON AND KILL WHAT HURTS YOU. And hell, while you're at it, make a spectacle of it! You know, for “funsies”! He laughs.

I WISH this battle of ours was as epic as it could have been. I wish this could have been some larger-than-life fuckoff good versus evil throw down for the ages. But it turns out you're not such a good guy and the supposed evil guy is the only one who listens and knows the score. Meh. But hey Robbie, you go ahead and keep calling me a walking cliché if you think that's what works for you. I mean, hell, I've already shot up every other imbecilic argument you've made. But the cold hard fact is that I'm not paid to dance for you Robbie. I don't need to entertain you or conform to what you think I SHOULD be. No, I just need to beat you. And I will. I'm going to run circles around your ego inflated bloated body, kicking and punishing the dragon back down to a serviceable size. I'll keep Sloane's playbook handy just in case.

I'm going to roll you onto your back, and you'll struggle to roll back over. Maybe by that point your legs will be so battered and fractured they can't even hold you aloft. Maybe you'll be blinded by my “Eau de Tom Hardy” by that point too. Oh, but isn't that a delicious thought! A beat down and visionless Robbie Bourbon, scrambling about in the dark with his belly bared to the world.

And then, I'm going to rip your guts out. I'm going to show the entire world how empty YOU are inside. That beneath the bluster and the self aggrandizement you were just another weak challenger propping yourself up on a pedestal of lies and false legend. But hey, look on the bright side. Maybe it'll give you an excuse to come back in six months and pretend all over again that you're not a colassal piece of shit.

The Engineer looks over at Malcolm's father, who has gone still. His chest still rises and falls, but barely. Malcolm, are you ready?

Malcolm's only reply is to pick up the gas canister without hesitation and begin the march to his father's prostrate body.

Last Week....


Malcolm's father breaks through to consciousness floating on a cloud. His eyes flutter open and are instantly hit with a scorching light above him. But his body feels weightless and detached, a comfortably numb sensation prickles his skin. It takes a few moments for his mind to catch up to his circumstances, and when the who, what, and where's finally come calling, his heart starts to hammer in his chest. He remembers being attacked by his son and that other boy. He remembers the needle in his neck and....

[Image: evil-doctor.jpg]

A face he does not recognizes eclipses the light for a moment. Time seems to be at a crawl, giving him ample opportunity to consider those eyes, those soulless, depthless windows. They were penetrating, horrifying somehow. And when the man tried to avert his eyes he found he could not. His body simply wouldn't respond. I'm paralyzed. The panic started to reach a fevered pitch now. What's going on? What's going on?!

The doctor's face drifted out of view then, putting him back under the worrying consideration of that light, that round brilliant light that was starting to look so familiar. A surgical lamp.

Hhhhheeeee iiiiissss aaawwwwaaaake.

The voice came out ponderously, sounding drawn out and far away.

Goooood. Another voice, this one sounding a bit more familiar.

Malcolm's father tried to re-exert control over his body, flexing his muscles, trying to move an arm even if it's just an inch. But nothing. Nothing at all. Panic and rage started to draw together into a morass of ill intent. You fuckers! YOU FUCKERS! I'll kill you!

Another moment passed, and he became dimly aware of some activity near at his side, but he couldn't crane his neck to look. He was at the mercy of the unknown. Just then, that boy who was with his son came into view, standing just above him. He favored one side, and the top most part of a cane in his hand was just visible. But it was his expression that felled the man the most. It was just an absence, a nothing, like this young man was considering a mote of dust drifting through a sun beam. You may begin. The words came faster now as the haze lingering at the edges of his vision abated just a bit.

There was a strange sensation then, a prodding somewhere in his lower abdomen. Not painful, but distinct. Someone's touching me. His heart knocked. Get your fucking hands off me! But the sensation only intensified, a discrete poking followed by a constant pressure somewhere down below. It was the not seeing that was the worst, the sheer powerlessness of it all. STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP! STOP! STOP! The bizarre feelings continued, until he could hear the clatter of metal on metal. All the while, this leering little brat was staring at him. He wanted to spit at him, bite his shitty little white boy face and rip a chunk of it off. You little FA**OT! YOU LITTLE FUCKING FA**OT! This little shit must be buggering my son, he reasoned. Pumping him full of sickness, full of AIDS, or any number of other diseases this perverts were always infected with.

The boy was handed a metal surgical tray then. It was covered in blood and in the center of it a pulpy mass of flesh. The flesh looked alien, foreign at first. Because what he was looking at was impossible, impossible that it would be on this tray and apart from him. Impossible because if what he were seeing were real and not just the byproduct of some booze induced nightmare then his mind would shatter and break into millions of disparate pieces, never to be reassembled.

Even still, he came to recognize the flesh as his own genitals.

The Engineer displayed his manhood on the tray so that he might see them. A scream rose up in the man's chest but had nowhere to go, so it simply stayed in there, ricocheting around and bouncing off his hammering heart. And in that moment his mind started to slip it's tether, the room started to spin and his stomach involuntarily bucked and lurched. Vomit spewed up and over his lips and The Engineer canted his head to the left in response so that it would dribble out and onto the gurney. No, you don't get to go like that.

If Malcolm's father could have sobbed and broken down into insane shrieks he would have. But once again, the insanity had nowhere to go. It stayed within, trapped like a raging fire deep inside, his body serving as a closed Pandora's box holding in all manner of awfulness.

The doctor came round again. This time he grabbed hold of the man's bottom jaw, violently repositioning his head and forcing open his maw, jamming some sadistic looking handled tool between his teeth. So far gone was he that he didn't hear his front teeth break as the metal of the tool ground against them recklessly. He just kept screaming and screaming inside, praying to God for death. But death wouldn't come. All that came was another strange pressure, this time from within his mouth, followed by a abrupt release of that pressure. The tool came free of his face, and within it's jaws was another pulpy mass of flesh. His tongue.

The doctor pushed his face down, and blood ran freely from between his lips. His thoughts were no longer even remotely close to being formed of coherent words or phrases, no, they had descended into nothing more than animal terror and a desire to simply be GONE, to be no longer of this Earth.

After a moment of the blood being allowed to filter from his mouth, his head was jerked upright again. The boy was there once more, bearing that same dead eyed glower. But so far detached was Malcolm's father that the boy barely registered. His entire world was fire and madness. He barely even noticed as the thin metal prong was raised to his eye socket and inserted. Then, a small hammer was produced by the doctor, who proceeded to gently tap, tap, tap the end of the metal prong. Each gentle tap was like a roar of thunder in the man's brain. His eye went black with blood as full blown psychotic mania took hold.

Only one thing broke through the chaos before Malcolm's father finally succumbed to the madness. That boy's voice once more, whispering in his ear.

La commedia e finita.....

NOW


The Engineer watched Malcolm watch his father burn. He had spared the young man the details of his father's transition into being an acolyte. He wasn't quite sure how exactly the nitty gritty would play out. But Malcolm had never asked either. Maybe he didn't care.

At any rate, the boy stood looking damn near majestic before the roaring flame, and The Engineer reflected on all that he had done for Malcolm. The chances he took. And even now, he struggled with what precisely had brought him to this point. Robbie was right about one thing, the boy COULD be a suitable host in the future. But was that what he had wanted from the beginning?

The Engineer knew that what he had done for Malcolm wasn't a kindness. It was stranger than kindness. A trial by fire of sorts that The Engineer had been shocked to find the young man passing at every turn. And yet, he couldn't help but feel that amidst all of this there was something undefinable he wasn't seeing. Hidden behind a veil, just out of reach. An urgent sense of something both intriguing and frightening. Something powerful, threateningly so.

Its love... The voice came like a whisper on the wind. The Engineer spun about, eyes scanning the brush for the source of the voice. But nothing was there.

Nothing at all.


[OOC: HOPE YOU WEREN'T EATING! Seriously though, that's it from me for this series. Hope you all liked it. Big, big props to Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon for hanging in there with me and cutting some killer promos. I appreciate all the work you did. Thanks for being a great opponent. ]]]>