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		<title><![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Relentless Day 1 RP Board 2020]]></title>
		<link>https://xwf1999.com/</link>
		<description><![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - https://xwf1999.com]]></description>
		<pubDate>Fri, 08 May 2026 00:46:51 +0000</pubDate>
		<generator>MyBB</generator>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Stealing the Poke-Show]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38302</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2020 23:59:03 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2368">Thunder Knuckles™</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38302</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="gold" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JuYeHPFR3f0?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Thunder Knuckles shows up to an empty room with his pokemon deck in hand.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">So, this is it. No one showed up to put their pokemon skill to use.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Thunder Knuckles reveals his deck of cards, all that can be shinny are.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">What I have here is, 12 Pokémon: 3 Garchomp & Giratina-GX, 3 Mismagius, 4 Misdreavus, 1 Blacephalon, and 1 Naganadel & Guzzlord-GX. <br />
<br />
10 Energy Cards: 3 Psychic Energy, 2 Fighting Energy, 2 Rainbow Energy, 2 Unit Energy Fighting - Darkness - Fairy, and 1 Weakness Guard Energy<br />
<br />
38 Trainer Cards: 4 Green’s Exploration, 3 Cynthia & Caitlin, 2 Guzma & Hala, 1 Faba, 1 Lt. Surge’s Strategy, 1 Mallow & Lana, 4 Power Plant, 4 Tag Call, 3 Mysterious Treasure, 3 Pokégear 3.0, 3 Reset Stamp, 1 Dusk Stone, 1 Great Catcher, 1 Beast Ring, 1 Counter Gain, 1 Energy Spinner, 1 Karate Belt, and 1 Switch.<br />
</span></span><br />
<br />
Thunder Knuckles puts his cards away.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><br />
Who’s up? Who wants some of my pokemon, bitches? Fuck you, if you don’t know the meta! Who the fuck am I kidding? Jimmy told me to show up with this deck.<br />
<br />
Jimmy said something about the combo in this deck. I don't know how to play fucking pokemon. I'm busy getting ready for a fucking Television Title match, and Jimmy wants me to do this shit. Oh fucking well, one more thing while I have your attention, I guess. Join BOB and let's make XWF suffer again. Now, if you don't fucking mind. I have more important shit to do. Todd, play the fucking preview of Chronic Chris Page's next promo against 'Ol Thunder Knuckles for the XWF fans around the world.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
The shot of Thunder Knuckles in an empty room fades to what is regarded as Chronic Chris Page's best work to date, featuring Robert Main.<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="gold" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9GtAOVOXicI?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
</div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="gold" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JuYeHPFR3f0?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">Thunder Knuckles shows up to an empty room with his pokemon deck in hand.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">So, this is it. No one showed up to put their pokemon skill to use.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Thunder Knuckles reveals his deck of cards, all that can be shinny are.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">What I have here is, 12 Pokémon: 3 Garchomp & Giratina-GX, 3 Mismagius, 4 Misdreavus, 1 Blacephalon, and 1 Naganadel & Guzzlord-GX. <br />
<br />
10 Energy Cards: 3 Psychic Energy, 2 Fighting Energy, 2 Rainbow Energy, 2 Unit Energy Fighting - Darkness - Fairy, and 1 Weakness Guard Energy<br />
<br />
38 Trainer Cards: 4 Green’s Exploration, 3 Cynthia & Caitlin, 2 Guzma & Hala, 1 Faba, 1 Lt. Surge’s Strategy, 1 Mallow & Lana, 4 Power Plant, 4 Tag Call, 3 Mysterious Treasure, 3 Pokégear 3.0, 3 Reset Stamp, 1 Dusk Stone, 1 Great Catcher, 1 Beast Ring, 1 Counter Gain, 1 Energy Spinner, 1 Karate Belt, and 1 Switch.<br />
</span></span><br />
<br />
Thunder Knuckles puts his cards away.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><br />
Who’s up? Who wants some of my pokemon, bitches? Fuck you, if you don’t know the meta! Who the fuck am I kidding? Jimmy told me to show up with this deck.<br />
<br />
Jimmy said something about the combo in this deck. I don't know how to play fucking pokemon. I'm busy getting ready for a fucking Television Title match, and Jimmy wants me to do this shit. Oh fucking well, one more thing while I have your attention, I guess. Join BOB and let's make XWF suffer again. Now, if you don't fucking mind. I have more important shit to do. Todd, play the fucking preview of Chronic Chris Page's next promo against 'Ol Thunder Knuckles for the XWF fans around the world.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
The shot of Thunder Knuckles in an empty room fades to what is regarded as Chronic Chris Page's best work to date, featuring Robert Main.<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="gold" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9GtAOVOXicI?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
</div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[I'M MADDDDDD! part one]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38299</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2020 22:43:22 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2485">Johnny Legend</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38299</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/yq8TQ92/madleg.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: madleg.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">part one</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9K7rmxjk5RQ?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;" class="mycode_font"><br />
<br />
The scene opens to Johnny Legend in only his tan trench-coat and yellow slippers; which were originally white when new. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Come on, you son of a bitch. I know you're here."</span> Johnny Legend sifts through some garbage with a pointy stick in his right hand. The moon's glow dominates the sky, as somewhere in an alley, out in downtown Detroit, Michigan... Johnny Legend is going nuts.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I promise I won't hurt you and cook you, little ratty."</span> Johnny licks his lips.<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Come on! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR AGES! LEGEND NEEDS FOOD!"</span> His tummy gurgles.<br />
<br />
Suddenly! The sound of little paws scatter through a used diaper and under Johnny's legs. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"AREGHGHGH!" </span> Johnny wildly stabs at the ground and in the garbage piles.<br />
<br />
The rat runs away without Legend noticing, as he continues to stab... And stab.... And sta... You know what. Let's move ahead an hour or so? The scene cuts away...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">THREE HOURS LATER</div></span></span><br />
<br />
We come back to Joh..<br />
...<br />
<br />
This fucker is still stabbing that diaper!<br />
<br />
Johnny Legend, sweat dripping down his, well, his whole body; continues to use what resources he can scrounge up to stab with that pointy stick of his. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"You..." Johnny huffs, "You... food... ME EAT!" </span>Johnny yells and stabs one more time before the stick breaks in two. <br />
<br />
Johnny falls to his knees, defeated and smelly.  Tears run down his cheeks, "I'll never win.. NEVER!"<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Andrew Logan can come in here and just destroy me right now. Easy as my mom on Sunday morning. I"M DOOMED! DOOOMED!" </span>Johnny screams into the sky with his hands in the air.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I don't even know who I am anymore. Am I Johnny Legend or someone else? When I look in the mirro.."</span><br />
<br />
A lady walking her dog strolls by Johnny as he continues to pity himself in the alley. She stops and takes a picture and continues on her day.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"...And that was only the second time Uncle Phingers slept in my room."</span><br />
<br />
Johnny wipes the tears from his eyes with one swipe, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Now..Now Andrew is gonna violate me in every which way. You saw him."</span> Johnny points to a rat standing by, watching the poor old man talk to himself.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"That guy is JACKED!"</span><br />
<br />
Johnny rubs his shoulder, "Last time he whooped my ass and made me remember about where I lost my retainer in fifth grade..Under the second bleachers in the Gym."<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Anyways, my other opponents decided it wasn't worth it, Andrew. You.. You're Andrew now, you rat."</span> Johnny points to another rat that hopped by. The rats look at one another and shrug as Johnny Legend continues doubting himself, "None of them care, Andrew. Only us! WE THE COOL GUYS! WE FRIENDS!?"<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"SWEET!"</div></span><br />
<br />
"We friends. So if we're friends why haven't you gotten me any presents!? HUH!?"</span><br />
<br />
"I like presents, Andrew. I also like having friends. Which means I'm gonna do you a solid. As numero uno friend of Andrew Logan.. I'm gonna let you let me win... How's that, buddy?"<br />
<br />
The rats shake their head to one another.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"HOT DIGGITITY!"<br />
<br />
"YOU MADE ME THE HAPPIEST PRINCESS IN ALL OF XWF!"</span><br />
<br />
Johnny turns to a none-existent camera and says,<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Eat your heart out, Jenny Myst."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Now. Felix Jones was suppose to be here. YES HE WAS!"</span> Johnny yells directly in the face of a third rat, that is now wishing he just kept going as Johnny lifts him up and yells, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"DAMN YOU FELIX! DAMN YOU!" </span>Johnny gently sets the rat down and chuckles nervously.<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Haha. Sorry, buddy.. I.. I just don't know what's wrong with me."</span> He taps the rat on the head, and it scurries off wondering what to make of this nutjob.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"LOOK AT ME! I'm positively a mess. Goodness sake. Gosh darn diddly.... Let the big dawgs run. Know how many bowls this bran cereal will need to fill your daily fiber intake? Maybe if I keep saying stupid shit someone will give me an award..." </span>Johnny looks at one of the rats, which wheels in a marble towards Johnny Legend. It rolls and knocks against his knee, sending it down a drain near him. <br />
<br />
Johnny smirks and looks at the rat that wheeled said marble.. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Reeeeeeaaaallll cute. Was that an anthology.. analogy about how I lost my marbles! HUH!? Guess what! I DIDN'T! I NEVER LOSE! NEVER! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"</span><br />
<br />
Rain begins to fall on this warm, humid night. As Johnny Legend laughs with madness, rats slowly circle around him. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"WHERE IS THIS INCREDIBLE ONE!?"<br />
<br />
"WHERE!?"<br />
<br />
"I'm here. HAHAHAA! I'M HERE!" </span>Johnny rubs his chest.<br />
<br />
He hangs his head in shame, "I'm always here.."<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"><br />
"Here to take the beatings. Here to raise the stock of others as I continue to drop into the abyss of names that everyone of these fucks have forgotten. So have your fucking heroes, XWF. Make new ones with Andrew Logan. Watch as he abandons you like the rest... Well.. Aside from Centurion. I really don't know how he is still wrestling...And still look like that... My god. I mean.. I don't swing that way.. bbbbuuttt."</span><br />
<br />
The rats nod in agreement with the last remark.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Uh.. Yeah. RELENTLESS! This event sprung up on me out of nowhere. I feel like I had less days to prepare than others...but mind ain't...TOO GOOD?"</span> Johnny rubs his head.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Andrew Logan is my only friend here. I mean, friends wish to end careers of other friends, right? He wished that last time and NOW I'M SPECIAL MAN!" </span>Johnny flexes as the rats, in unison I shit you not, smack their little rat foreheads in disgust at this nutty blockhead.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Alright.. You guys liked that? If you did, you have to give me a thumbs up."</span> Johnny Legend asks, as he looks around the crowd of rats before him. Each look at one another and scurry away, leaving Johnny sitting in the rain, once again, begins to cry as the scene fades to black.<br />
<br />
 <br />
<br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/LCPzVrq/bowdown.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: bowdown.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/yq8TQ92/madleg.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: madleg.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">part one</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9K7rmxjk5RQ?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;" class="mycode_font"><br />
<br />
The scene opens to Johnny Legend in only his tan trench-coat and yellow slippers; which were originally white when new. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Come on, you son of a bitch. I know you're here."</span> Johnny Legend sifts through some garbage with a pointy stick in his right hand. The moon's glow dominates the sky, as somewhere in an alley, out in downtown Detroit, Michigan... Johnny Legend is going nuts.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I promise I won't hurt you and cook you, little ratty."</span> Johnny licks his lips.<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Come on! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR AGES! LEGEND NEEDS FOOD!"</span> His tummy gurgles.<br />
<br />
Suddenly! The sound of little paws scatter through a used diaper and under Johnny's legs. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"AREGHGHGH!" </span> Johnny wildly stabs at the ground and in the garbage piles.<br />
<br />
The rat runs away without Legend noticing, as he continues to stab... And stab.... And sta... You know what. Let's move ahead an hour or so? The scene cuts away...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">THREE HOURS LATER</div></span></span><br />
<br />
We come back to Joh..<br />
...<br />
<br />
This fucker is still stabbing that diaper!<br />
<br />
Johnny Legend, sweat dripping down his, well, his whole body; continues to use what resources he can scrounge up to stab with that pointy stick of his. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"You..." Johnny huffs, "You... food... ME EAT!" </span>Johnny yells and stabs one more time before the stick breaks in two. <br />
<br />
Johnny falls to his knees, defeated and smelly.  Tears run down his cheeks, "I'll never win.. NEVER!"<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Andrew Logan can come in here and just destroy me right now. Easy as my mom on Sunday morning. I"M DOOMED! DOOOMED!" </span>Johnny screams into the sky with his hands in the air.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I don't even know who I am anymore. Am I Johnny Legend or someone else? When I look in the mirro.."</span><br />
<br />
A lady walking her dog strolls by Johnny as he continues to pity himself in the alley. She stops and takes a picture and continues on her day.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"...And that was only the second time Uncle Phingers slept in my room."</span><br />
<br />
Johnny wipes the tears from his eyes with one swipe, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Now..Now Andrew is gonna violate me in every which way. You saw him."</span> Johnny points to a rat standing by, watching the poor old man talk to himself.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"That guy is JACKED!"</span><br />
<br />
Johnny rubs his shoulder, "Last time he whooped my ass and made me remember about where I lost my retainer in fifth grade..Under the second bleachers in the Gym."<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Anyways, my other opponents decided it wasn't worth it, Andrew. You.. You're Andrew now, you rat."</span> Johnny points to another rat that hopped by. The rats look at one another and shrug as Johnny Legend continues doubting himself, "None of them care, Andrew. Only us! WE THE COOL GUYS! WE FRIENDS!?"<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"SWEET!"</div></span><br />
<br />
"We friends. So if we're friends why haven't you gotten me any presents!? HUH!?"</span><br />
<br />
"I like presents, Andrew. I also like having friends. Which means I'm gonna do you a solid. As numero uno friend of Andrew Logan.. I'm gonna let you let me win... How's that, buddy?"<br />
<br />
The rats shake their head to one another.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"HOT DIGGITITY!"<br />
<br />
"YOU MADE ME THE HAPPIEST PRINCESS IN ALL OF XWF!"</span><br />
<br />
Johnny turns to a none-existent camera and says,<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Eat your heart out, Jenny Myst."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Now. Felix Jones was suppose to be here. YES HE WAS!"</span> Johnny yells directly in the face of a third rat, that is now wishing he just kept going as Johnny lifts him up and yells, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"DAMN YOU FELIX! DAMN YOU!" </span>Johnny gently sets the rat down and chuckles nervously.<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Haha. Sorry, buddy.. I.. I just don't know what's wrong with me."</span> He taps the rat on the head, and it scurries off wondering what to make of this nutjob.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"LOOK AT ME! I'm positively a mess. Goodness sake. Gosh darn diddly.... Let the big dawgs run. Know how many bowls this bran cereal will need to fill your daily fiber intake? Maybe if I keep saying stupid shit someone will give me an award..." </span>Johnny looks at one of the rats, which wheels in a marble towards Johnny Legend. It rolls and knocks against his knee, sending it down a drain near him. <br />
<br />
Johnny smirks and looks at the rat that wheeled said marble.. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Reeeeeeaaaallll cute. Was that an anthology.. analogy about how I lost my marbles! HUH!? Guess what! I DIDN'T! I NEVER LOSE! NEVER! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"</span><br />
<br />
Rain begins to fall on this warm, humid night. As Johnny Legend laughs with madness, rats slowly circle around him. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"WHERE IS THIS INCREDIBLE ONE!?"<br />
<br />
"WHERE!?"<br />
<br />
"I'm here. HAHAHAA! I'M HERE!" </span>Johnny rubs his chest.<br />
<br />
He hangs his head in shame, "I'm always here.."<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"><br />
"Here to take the beatings. Here to raise the stock of others as I continue to drop into the abyss of names that everyone of these fucks have forgotten. So have your fucking heroes, XWF. Make new ones with Andrew Logan. Watch as he abandons you like the rest... Well.. Aside from Centurion. I really don't know how he is still wrestling...And still look like that... My god. I mean.. I don't swing that way.. bbbbuuttt."</span><br />
<br />
The rats nod in agreement with the last remark.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Uh.. Yeah. RELENTLESS! This event sprung up on me out of nowhere. I feel like I had less days to prepare than others...but mind ain't...TOO GOOD?"</span> Johnny rubs his head.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Andrew Logan is my only friend here. I mean, friends wish to end careers of other friends, right? He wished that last time and NOW I'M SPECIAL MAN!" </span>Johnny flexes as the rats, in unison I shit you not, smack their little rat foreheads in disgust at this nutty blockhead.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Alright.. You guys liked that? If you did, you have to give me a thumbs up."</span> Johnny Legend asks, as he looks around the crowd of rats before him. Each look at one another and scurry away, leaving Johnny sitting in the rain, once again, begins to cry as the scene fades to black.<br />
<br />
 <br />
<br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/LCPzVrq/bowdown.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: bowdown.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>]]></content:encoded>
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		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[The day it got real.  Real real.    +++HMW 500 word char dev RP+++]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38298</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2020 22:41:53 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2240">GREGGO has a wet scrotum!</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38298</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: right;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vImvzQCb0o8?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A cheap graphic of a newspaper with a naked me (Greggo) on it.  Mmmmm, developments developments.  Read all about em.  <br />
<br />
Scene fades in real slow like.  Boi's n gurls listen up the games are over because right now I'm narrating the biggest day of my week.  <br />
<br />
Look, there I am in bed, sound asleep.  The nurse walks in and wakes me up for the 25th time this night alone, boi do I friggin HATE that!<br />
<br />
She's all like <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">"hey hun errthing ok?  I just gotta change this or that, blah blah fuckitty blah!" </span> ...and me?  Well I'm all about the <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">"bitch get outta here I'm trying to sleep you dirty cunt!"</span> <br />
<br />
So why am I here in the hospital in a bed, you wonder?  Well let's not waste any time with building anticipation I got friggin' Covid 19 and that means Charlie has it and so does Sarah.<br />
<br />
SOWWIEZ!!!!!  :'(<br />
<br />
Also got c.diff again.  I think it's mating with the Corona.<br />
<br />
Oh but it gets better because guess what the XDub Staff did when they heard the news?  It went a lil'something like this........<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~~~blurry lines and wavy waves! Back in time a few days!~~~</span></div>
<br />
We see a cartoon of Greggo covered in shit.  He's talking to a cartoon Vinnie Lane.  Cartoon Theo's there too!<br />
<br />
Greggo: <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">"Hey Vinnie n' Theo guess what!  I got the bug!  I can't taste shit!  I'm shitting up a storm! Guys I need some time off; I'm sure glad I'm not booked for Relentless!"</span><br />
<br />
And you can guess what happened next.  Lane is all like,<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"> "Woah'oah duuuuude!  That's gnarly!  I just booked you for the show!  It's gonna be totally rad!"</span><br />
<br />
Then Theo's greasy arse chimes in with the autotune glow on blast, <span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"And lets be clear Greggo was ADDED to the match, Charlie was not removed!  Haha!  Fuck a Charlie!"</span><br />
<br />
And I'm just wondering do I even hate Charlie THAT much? <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Do I really wanna DOUBLE infect him PLUS give him c.diff? </span> <br />
<br />
<marquee>A few clips of me recently saying super mean things about Charlie pass by.............</marquee><br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Yeah I do.</span><br />
<br />
I sit in my hospital bed and ponder my hatred level for the man.  At this point, my erection can be seen under the sheets.  The nurse has already left the room, luckily...  much like Charlie already left the XWF title scene.  Yup, happened when I beat him for the HMW title even tho I'm just Sarah's friggin marketing mentor, yet this was SUPPOSED to be his journey to supposedly <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">taking</span> a title FROM her? <br />
<br />
I pull the HMW title out from under the sheets and mumble, <span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Charlie boi yer losing titles to her friggin' MANAGER n' u think yer gonna take HERS?  BLAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHHHH ACK ACCKCKSJHK!"</span></span></span><br />
<br />
I start to choke.  I vomit all kinds'a nasty shit!  <br />
<br />
And then............................... it happens....................................<br />
<br />
A doc walks in and he's all like, "welp yer sick as a dog but you have no insurance and you keep smearing shit all over the halls so yer outta here bitch!"<br />
<br />
And just like that I'm BACK ON THE STREETS!<br />
<br />
And I DEVELOPED something alright!  <br />
<br />
 <span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size">New hybrid strain!  They call it <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Corondiff.C.1920</span>!   And I'm patient friggin' ZERO!</span><br />
<br />
 Crap! (literally.  Everywhere.)<br />
<br />
<br />
 ]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: right;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vImvzQCb0o8?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A cheap graphic of a newspaper with a naked me (Greggo) on it.  Mmmmm, developments developments.  Read all about em.  <br />
<br />
Scene fades in real slow like.  Boi's n gurls listen up the games are over because right now I'm narrating the biggest day of my week.  <br />
<br />
Look, there I am in bed, sound asleep.  The nurse walks in and wakes me up for the 25th time this night alone, boi do I friggin HATE that!<br />
<br />
She's all like <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">"hey hun errthing ok?  I just gotta change this or that, blah blah fuckitty blah!" </span> ...and me?  Well I'm all about the <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">"bitch get outta here I'm trying to sleep you dirty cunt!"</span> <br />
<br />
So why am I here in the hospital in a bed, you wonder?  Well let's not waste any time with building anticipation I got friggin' Covid 19 and that means Charlie has it and so does Sarah.<br />
<br />
SOWWIEZ!!!!!  :'(<br />
<br />
Also got c.diff again.  I think it's mating with the Corona.<br />
<br />
Oh but it gets better because guess what the XDub Staff did when they heard the news?  It went a lil'something like this........<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~~~blurry lines and wavy waves! Back in time a few days!~~~</span></div>
<br />
We see a cartoon of Greggo covered in shit.  He's talking to a cartoon Vinnie Lane.  Cartoon Theo's there too!<br />
<br />
Greggo: <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">"Hey Vinnie n' Theo guess what!  I got the bug!  I can't taste shit!  I'm shitting up a storm! Guys I need some time off; I'm sure glad I'm not booked for Relentless!"</span><br />
<br />
And you can guess what happened next.  Lane is all like,<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"> "Woah'oah duuuuude!  That's gnarly!  I just booked you for the show!  It's gonna be totally rad!"</span><br />
<br />
Then Theo's greasy arse chimes in with the autotune glow on blast, <span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"And lets be clear Greggo was ADDED to the match, Charlie was not removed!  Haha!  Fuck a Charlie!"</span><br />
<br />
And I'm just wondering do I even hate Charlie THAT much? <span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Do I really wanna DOUBLE infect him PLUS give him c.diff? </span> <br />
<br />
<marquee>A few clips of me recently saying super mean things about Charlie pass by.............</marquee><br />
<br />
<span style="text-decoration: underline;" class="mycode_u">Yeah I do.</span><br />
<br />
I sit in my hospital bed and ponder my hatred level for the man.  At this point, my erection can be seen under the sheets.  The nurse has already left the room, luckily...  much like Charlie already left the XWF title scene.  Yup, happened when I beat him for the HMW title even tho I'm just Sarah's friggin marketing mentor, yet this was SUPPOSED to be his journey to supposedly <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">taking</span> a title FROM her? <br />
<br />
I pull the HMW title out from under the sheets and mumble, <span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Charlie boi yer losing titles to her friggin' MANAGER n' u think yer gonna take HERS?  BLAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHHHH ACK ACCKCKSJHK!"</span></span></span><br />
<br />
I start to choke.  I vomit all kinds'a nasty shit!  <br />
<br />
And then............................... it happens....................................<br />
<br />
A doc walks in and he's all like, "welp yer sick as a dog but you have no insurance and you keep smearing shit all over the halls so yer outta here bitch!"<br />
<br />
And just like that I'm BACK ON THE STREETS!<br />
<br />
And I DEVELOPED something alright!  <br />
<br />
 <span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size">New hybrid strain!  They call it <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Corondiff.C.1920</span>!   And I'm patient friggin' ZERO!</span><br />
<br />
 Crap! (literally.  Everywhere.)<br />
<br />
<br />
 ]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[All or Nothing]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38291</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2020 22:07:20 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=1668">Chris Chaos</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38291</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/7CIEs7Y.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 7CIEs7Y.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/mJctPl9.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: mJctPl9.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #FFFFFF;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">"I have come to a crossroads in my career. The holy grail of the wrestling world that I have been chasing is finally within my sights, but in typical Theo Pryce fashion he has to make things difficult. That's always been his MO. Not sure if it is because he is jealous of me, or because he is just a miserable person. I think its a combination. I think what really stuck in his craw was that he could never be me. He could never have as much fame, could never be talked about as much, could never have as much impact on a show. Even when he came back with his Kings brothers, this company still revolved around me. I was the headline every night, I was the show stopper. I sold the tickets. I sold merch. The only thing Theo Pryce sold was bullshit. Sold promises he couldn't deliver, sold the ideology of the old days in XWF and a takeover that his geriatric buddies didn't have the competence to complete. Chris Chaos was captivating, unique cutting edge. But more than that, he was resilient. When I beat Doctor D'Ville, they lost their minds. Theo thought that was a shoe in for his old chum to hit the chamber, and he would have won it, too. I stopped him dead in his tracks and the war has been on from there. <br />
<br />
The deck has been stacked since the moment my hand was raised in that chamber. I was the new kid, coming in, making waves. This was New Blood vs Millionaire's Club all over again. What really gets me is, they never once had any faith in me. They thought I would come in, be a quick flash in the pan, and fizzle out like the rest. Spend my days wallowing in the mid card and get swallowed up and eventually driven out, just like everyone else here. The fact I was going to the chamber and Doc wasn't, that was strike one against me, wasn't it? You fed me to the wolves, and I slit the wolves throat and made a coat from his fur. I went on to win that Universal Title, and the hunt was on from there. The hunter became the hunted, and I became priority number one on the administrations shit list. <br />
<br />
Time and time again you put me in matches designed for me to lose, and time and time again I pulled it off. When it became apparent that I was going to beat anyone you threw at me, you had to take matters into your own hands. You screwed me, and used Vinnie Lane to do it. Vinnie hitting me with that chair inside the cage and costing me the title, it wasn't an accident and you all can stop playing stupid and pretending it was. You'd rather have Gabe Reno your champion so you can dick him around than have me as champion thwarting your games. Dolly Waters, Michael Graves, Reno the first time, you threw them all at me. The only thing I was guilty of was being a survivor. <br />
<br />
So the belt is gone, you thought you won, and rematch after rematch the establishment went out of their way to screw me. Time and time again, impossible matches, inferences, collusion. Does Archie ring a bell? I had Robbie Bourbon dead to rights, but you ripped it all away. You couldn't stand having me rule the XWF again. It shook you to your very core. You were desperate, your back against the wall. You needed me to be gone because despite your best effort, I just would not go away. The one thing you hated me for, accused me of, of ducking behind others to snake my way to the top.....you had to do the same thing. The belt was on Robert Main and you hid behind him. You stacked the deck.....you allowed him to make the rules. So hypocritical, wasn't it? Wasn't it you who forced me to put up my number one contender slot when I was doing the EXACT same thing Robert Main was doing.....funny how that works, isn't it? <br />
<br />
So you succeeded, you forced me out of the business. But did you think that was going to get rid of me for good? You poor, miserable, sniveling sack of shit. All you did was give me some time off to get myself right. You awoke the beast. <br />
<br />
But you know what? I was willing to forgive and forget. I know business is business sometimes. I was ready to let bygones be bygones, but then you got involved in my personal life. A particular XWF official named John Bihl, the name ring a bell? Funny, he is the ref for this match. <br />
<br />
For those who don't know.....I made a mistake and I let my personal life become entangled in my professional career. Mr. Bihl contacted a loved one of mine, said horrific things, and that person is now effectively out of my life. That was a line that didn't need to be crossed. You wanted me gone that bad, you could have just fired me. And did you take responsibility? Did you get to the bottom of it? No.....you washed your hands of it. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size">YOU TOLD ME TO GET OVER IT. </span></div>
<br />
Get over it? Get over the only person in my life I truly loved leaving me because of someone here, employed by YOU, and most likely sent by YOU.....<br />
<br />
But you have no knowledge of it. <br />
<br />
Theo, what you have done to me is shattered the man who we all used to know. I am cold, calloused, and uncaring. You took the one good thing about me and broke it down. You created a monster. You awoke something within me, and now.....I am going to make you pay for it. Pay dearly. You see, I am at a crossroads, like I said before. Sure, that title means everything to me, but I no longer know what love is. You've stripped that from me. I am willing to put my career on the line for this because Theo I have nothing left. <br />
<br />
I built Chaotic Inc as a safety net. They are all young, talented superstars who have bright futures and they will be here long after I am gone. Now, I want to hurt you the same way you hurt me. I want to make sure that I got my hands on you, at least once. I wanted to take out the last 16 months of frustration out on you, and it would all be legal. I just had to goad you into it. I had to pull you out from behind that desk and have you lace up those boots one more time. It wasn't easy but I finally have you where I want you. <br />
<br />
I have my back against the wall here, I have nothing left. I have no other option. It's win or go home. It's beat you and go on to cripple your little protected champion, shatter the face of this company into a million pieces, or you will never see me again.<br />
<br />
I am willing to take that chance.<br />
<br />
I have nothing else to lose. I either win or you will never see me again. <br />
<br />
I've made peace with myself, and I am ready to meet my maker.  </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,<br />
<br />
And Mourners to and fro<br />
<br />
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed<br />
<br />
That Sense was breaking through –<br />
<br />
And when they all were seated,<br />
<br />
A Service, like a Drum –<br />
<br />
Kept beating – beating – till I thought<br />
<br />
My mind was going numb –<br />
<br />
And then I heard them lift a Box<br />
<br />
And creak across my Soul<br />
<br />
With those same Boots of Lead, again,<br />
<br />
Then Space – began to toll,<br />
<br />
<br />
As all the Heavens were a Bell,<br />
<br />
And Being, but an Ear,<br />
<br />
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,<br />
<br />
Wrecked, solitary, here –<br />
<br />
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,<br />
<br />
And I dropped down, and down –<br />
<br />
And hit a World, at every plunge,<br />
<br />
And Finished knowing – then –"</div></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/ChX8iFq.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: ChX8iFq.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #FFDAB9;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">DEAD MAN'S HATE<br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #DCDCDC;" class="mycode_color"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">"They hanged John Farrel in the dawn amid the marketplace;At dusk came Adam Brand to him and spat upon his face."Ho neighbors all," spake Adam Brand, "see ye John Farrel's fate!"Tis proven here a hempen noose is stronger than man's hate!<br />
<br />
For heard ye not John Farrel's vow to be avenged upon meCome life or death? See how he hangs high on the gallows tree!"Yet never a word the people spoke, in fear and wild surprise-For the grisly corpse raised up its head and stared with sightless eyes,<br />
<br />
And with strange motions, slow and stiff, pointed at Adam BrandAnd clambered down the gibbet tree, the noose within its hand.With gaping mouth stood Adam Brand like a statue carved of stone,Till the dead man laid a clammy hand hard on his shoulder bone.<br />
<br />
Then Adam shrieked like a soul in hell; the red blood left his faceAnd he reeled away in a drunken run through the screaming market place;And close behind, the dead man came with a face like a mummy's mask,And the dead joints cracked and the stiff legs creaked with their unwonted task.<br />
<br />
Men fled before the flying twain or shrank with bated breath,And they saw on the face of Adam Brand the seal set there by death.He reeled on buckling legs that failed, yet on and on he fled;So through the shuddering market-place, the dying fled the dead.<br />
<br />
At the riverside fell Adam Brand with a scream that rent the skies;Across him fell John Farrel's corpse, nor ever the twain did rise.There was no wound on Adam Brand but his brow was cold and damp,For the fear of death had blown out his life as a witch blows out a lamp.<br />
<br />
His lips were writhed in a horrid grin like a fiend's on Satan's coals,And the men that looked on his face that day, his stare still haunts their souls.Such was the fate of Adam Brand, a strange, unearthly fate;For stronger than death or hempen noose are the fires of a dead man's hate."</div></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/31dJy10.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 31dJy10.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/Y1YU5Ht.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: Y1YU5Ht.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/9In6cb8.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 9In6cb8.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/7CIEs7Y.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 7CIEs7Y.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/mJctPl9.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: mJctPl9.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #FFFFFF;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">"I have come to a crossroads in my career. The holy grail of the wrestling world that I have been chasing is finally within my sights, but in typical Theo Pryce fashion he has to make things difficult. That's always been his MO. Not sure if it is because he is jealous of me, or because he is just a miserable person. I think its a combination. I think what really stuck in his craw was that he could never be me. He could never have as much fame, could never be talked about as much, could never have as much impact on a show. Even when he came back with his Kings brothers, this company still revolved around me. I was the headline every night, I was the show stopper. I sold the tickets. I sold merch. The only thing Theo Pryce sold was bullshit. Sold promises he couldn't deliver, sold the ideology of the old days in XWF and a takeover that his geriatric buddies didn't have the competence to complete. Chris Chaos was captivating, unique cutting edge. But more than that, he was resilient. When I beat Doctor D'Ville, they lost their minds. Theo thought that was a shoe in for his old chum to hit the chamber, and he would have won it, too. I stopped him dead in his tracks and the war has been on from there. <br />
<br />
The deck has been stacked since the moment my hand was raised in that chamber. I was the new kid, coming in, making waves. This was New Blood vs Millionaire's Club all over again. What really gets me is, they never once had any faith in me. They thought I would come in, be a quick flash in the pan, and fizzle out like the rest. Spend my days wallowing in the mid card and get swallowed up and eventually driven out, just like everyone else here. The fact I was going to the chamber and Doc wasn't, that was strike one against me, wasn't it? You fed me to the wolves, and I slit the wolves throat and made a coat from his fur. I went on to win that Universal Title, and the hunt was on from there. The hunter became the hunted, and I became priority number one on the administrations shit list. <br />
<br />
Time and time again you put me in matches designed for me to lose, and time and time again I pulled it off. When it became apparent that I was going to beat anyone you threw at me, you had to take matters into your own hands. You screwed me, and used Vinnie Lane to do it. Vinnie hitting me with that chair inside the cage and costing me the title, it wasn't an accident and you all can stop playing stupid and pretending it was. You'd rather have Gabe Reno your champion so you can dick him around than have me as champion thwarting your games. Dolly Waters, Michael Graves, Reno the first time, you threw them all at me. The only thing I was guilty of was being a survivor. <br />
<br />
So the belt is gone, you thought you won, and rematch after rematch the establishment went out of their way to screw me. Time and time again, impossible matches, inferences, collusion. Does Archie ring a bell? I had Robbie Bourbon dead to rights, but you ripped it all away. You couldn't stand having me rule the XWF again. It shook you to your very core. You were desperate, your back against the wall. You needed me to be gone because despite your best effort, I just would not go away. The one thing you hated me for, accused me of, of ducking behind others to snake my way to the top.....you had to do the same thing. The belt was on Robert Main and you hid behind him. You stacked the deck.....you allowed him to make the rules. So hypocritical, wasn't it? Wasn't it you who forced me to put up my number one contender slot when I was doing the EXACT same thing Robert Main was doing.....funny how that works, isn't it? <br />
<br />
So you succeeded, you forced me out of the business. But did you think that was going to get rid of me for good? You poor, miserable, sniveling sack of shit. All you did was give me some time off to get myself right. You awoke the beast. <br />
<br />
But you know what? I was willing to forgive and forget. I know business is business sometimes. I was ready to let bygones be bygones, but then you got involved in my personal life. A particular XWF official named John Bihl, the name ring a bell? Funny, he is the ref for this match. <br />
<br />
For those who don't know.....I made a mistake and I let my personal life become entangled in my professional career. Mr. Bihl contacted a loved one of mine, said horrific things, and that person is now effectively out of my life. That was a line that didn't need to be crossed. You wanted me gone that bad, you could have just fired me. And did you take responsibility? Did you get to the bottom of it? No.....you washed your hands of it. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-size: xx-large;" class="mycode_size">YOU TOLD ME TO GET OVER IT. </span></div>
<br />
Get over it? Get over the only person in my life I truly loved leaving me because of someone here, employed by YOU, and most likely sent by YOU.....<br />
<br />
But you have no knowledge of it. <br />
<br />
Theo, what you have done to me is shattered the man who we all used to know. I am cold, calloused, and uncaring. You took the one good thing about me and broke it down. You created a monster. You awoke something within me, and now.....I am going to make you pay for it. Pay dearly. You see, I am at a crossroads, like I said before. Sure, that title means everything to me, but I no longer know what love is. You've stripped that from me. I am willing to put my career on the line for this because Theo I have nothing left. <br />
<br />
I built Chaotic Inc as a safety net. They are all young, talented superstars who have bright futures and they will be here long after I am gone. Now, I want to hurt you the same way you hurt me. I want to make sure that I got my hands on you, at least once. I wanted to take out the last 16 months of frustration out on you, and it would all be legal. I just had to goad you into it. I had to pull you out from behind that desk and have you lace up those boots one more time. It wasn't easy but I finally have you where I want you. <br />
<br />
I have my back against the wall here, I have nothing left. I have no other option. It's win or go home. It's beat you and go on to cripple your little protected champion, shatter the face of this company into a million pieces, or you will never see me again.<br />
<br />
I am willing to take that chance.<br />
<br />
I have nothing else to lose. I either win or you will never see me again. <br />
<br />
I've made peace with myself, and I am ready to meet my maker.  </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,<br />
<br />
And Mourners to and fro<br />
<br />
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed<br />
<br />
That Sense was breaking through –<br />
<br />
And when they all were seated,<br />
<br />
A Service, like a Drum –<br />
<br />
Kept beating – beating – till I thought<br />
<br />
My mind was going numb –<br />
<br />
And then I heard them lift a Box<br />
<br />
And creak across my Soul<br />
<br />
With those same Boots of Lead, again,<br />
<br />
Then Space – began to toll,<br />
<br />
<br />
As all the Heavens were a Bell,<br />
<br />
And Being, but an Ear,<br />
<br />
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,<br />
<br />
Wrecked, solitary, here –<br />
<br />
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,<br />
<br />
And I dropped down, and down –<br />
<br />
And hit a World, at every plunge,<br />
<br />
And Finished knowing – then –"</div></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/ChX8iFq.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: ChX8iFq.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #FFDAB9;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">DEAD MAN'S HATE<br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #DCDCDC;" class="mycode_color"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">"They hanged John Farrel in the dawn amid the marketplace;At dusk came Adam Brand to him and spat upon his face."Ho neighbors all," spake Adam Brand, "see ye John Farrel's fate!"Tis proven here a hempen noose is stronger than man's hate!<br />
<br />
For heard ye not John Farrel's vow to be avenged upon meCome life or death? See how he hangs high on the gallows tree!"Yet never a word the people spoke, in fear and wild surprise-For the grisly corpse raised up its head and stared with sightless eyes,<br />
<br />
And with strange motions, slow and stiff, pointed at Adam BrandAnd clambered down the gibbet tree, the noose within its hand.With gaping mouth stood Adam Brand like a statue carved of stone,Till the dead man laid a clammy hand hard on his shoulder bone.<br />
<br />
Then Adam shrieked like a soul in hell; the red blood left his faceAnd he reeled away in a drunken run through the screaming market place;And close behind, the dead man came with a face like a mummy's mask,And the dead joints cracked and the stiff legs creaked with their unwonted task.<br />
<br />
Men fled before the flying twain or shrank with bated breath,And they saw on the face of Adam Brand the seal set there by death.He reeled on buckling legs that failed, yet on and on he fled;So through the shuddering market-place, the dying fled the dead.<br />
<br />
At the riverside fell Adam Brand with a scream that rent the skies;Across him fell John Farrel's corpse, nor ever the twain did rise.There was no wound on Adam Brand but his brow was cold and damp,For the fear of death had blown out his life as a witch blows out a lamp.<br />
<br />
His lips were writhed in a horrid grin like a fiend's on Satan's coals,And the men that looked on his face that day, his stare still haunts their souls.Such was the fate of Adam Brand, a strange, unearthly fate;For stronger than death or hempen noose are the fires of a dead man's hate."</div></span><br />
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			<title><![CDATA[A (Last) Day In The Life?]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38297</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2020 22:03:08 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2482">Andrew Logan</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38297</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><img src="https://p11.secure.hostingprod.com/@accelerator3359.com/ssl/andrewloganroster.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: andrewloganroster.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:20 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00ffff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We slowly open on an image we've seen multiple times before: Andrew Logan's old kitchen. Andrew is seated at the table, looking around, always amazed at how vivid it looks. It almost feels like he's actually there. A woman walks in: Grace, Andrew's lost wife. She stands next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and he smiles faintly up at her.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - I'm sorry for what happened to you, Grace. I still can't quite remember yet, but I've come to terms with the fact that I deserve blame for everything that went down.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Grace Logan - You shouldn't try to lift the whole world on your shoulders, Andrew. I made my own decisions.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00ffff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Andrew slowly reaches up, taking Grace's hand in his own.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - If there was a way to go back and change all of this, Grace... I would do it, no hesitation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Grace Logan - I know, my love. But for right now, don't worry about the past. Worry about the future. Now get up, Andrew.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00ffff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Andrew starts to stand, beginning to cough. He looks around the kitchen again, seeing flashes of light. Shadows are dancing along the walls.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Grace Logan - Get up, Andrew..... GET UP!</span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:23 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan snaps his eyes fully open, seeing the flames that are gathered all around him. He turns, rushing forward towards a closed door, slamming all his weight against it. The door cracks under the pressure. One more good shot shatters it for good, allowing Logan to stumble out into an inferno. The office building has been lit up, with cubicles forming a burning maze in front of Logan. A maze that doesn't look survivable.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Fuck! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan starts to run around the wreckage, ignoring the blood he can feel still oozing from a wound on the back of his head. He works down one path, but a fallen piece of the roof blocks his path, forcing him backwards due to the intense heat.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - There's got to *cough*... be a way...*cough* out of here... *cough*</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan looks up suddenly, noticing another piece of the ceiling about to come down... right on top of him...~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">9:33 AM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~The image shifts to much earlier in the day, where we see Andrew Logan seated in what looks to be a breakfast dining establishment with a younger woman. This woman has been seen before as well: Michelle Cuthers, a long-time friend of a man that Logan is desperately seeking. The two have plates of bacon & eggs in front of them, with Logan having also gotten the pancakes. The eating has been sporadic, though, as the two have spent the time talking about Michelle's findings.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - I still can't believe Malcolm did this much work for you. There have been so many documents to go through.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Malcolm was always nothing but thorough.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - "Is", Andrew, not "was". We don't know that he's... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Michelle doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't have to. Malcolm has been missing for weeks now, with no sign of anything changing. Logan last saw him when he was asking Malcolm for a 'favor': to look into his past and discover the truth of what really happened to Andrew Logan's wife. Malcolm vanished, but his flash drive has been giving up information to Michelle once she's able to decode them... including a fake obituary for Grace and other false documents online. Michelle pulls out one of the latest items she's accessed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - As you can see here, Malcolm found this documentation for you. It's from a psychiatric institution.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan takes the file less than enthusiastically. This, at least, is something that's familiar to him.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - I don't know why he was looking at this one, Michelle. I... did spend some time at this facility. I had to work through some... personality issues I was having.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~From the look on Logan's face, "personality issues" is an understatement. But Michelle is already shaking her head.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - But that's the thing, Andrew. Malcolm apparently found two sets of documents. In that one, it talks about you fighting multiple personality disorder... but in this one, the diagnosis is different, simply dealing with depression.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan looks back and forth between the two printouts, even more confused.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Wait, I wasn't there for... but then... I don't understand this at all. Why would everything be changed?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - I really don't know, Andrew. But you do see who committed you on the second sheet, right?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - My uncle... son of a bitch... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~The two continue to go over the details, as the waitress comes by and looks disapprovingly at the lack of food being consumed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"> The last time I made my way onto XWF Television, I was set to fight a Wizard. That one didn't go the way I expected it to, because in my mind, I saw the Wizard being unconscious because of my own hand, instead of someone else's. It proved to be a waste of my time, one that slowed down my path towards the top.<br />
<br />
But now I've found out that I have another chance at Relentless. Amazingly, I only have to defeat three other men in one contest, to earn a future title shot against the Television Champion, whoever that turns out to be after this weekend is over.  Child's play, when you think of how many I defeated to win the Leap of Faith Battle Royal. Three should be a breeze, assuming I make it there in one piece. Each of these opponents I have a different level of knowledge about. Each is debatable as a threat.<br />
<br />
You have Johnny Legend. I guess I have to take back my "Legend Killer" status, as the man decided not to die after all. Props to him for that, as although I wasn't completely trying to end his career, I was hoping I'd at least put him down for a while. I defeated Legend quite handily, which most would take as a sign that I'll be able to destroy him once again. But in my mind, I consider Legend the most dangerous foe in this competition. Am I suddenly respecting the man's talent inside the squared circle? No, he's still a buffoon who should have probably stopped while he still had a few brain cells left to allow him to remember his competition. But Legend might still instinctively know what it's like being in the ring with me. He, more than the other two, might actually have picked up a trick or two to use against me. So I guarantee that when I get to that ring, Legend will be my primary target, at least until he's laid out, drooling, on the canvas.<br />
<br />
The Incredible One is an interesting opponent. I know TIO's history from some of the other organizations he's gone through, including my former stomping grounds, OCW. We've both been OCW World Heavyweight Champion, and while I'm sure he doesn't want to acknowledge my run at the top, I'll give him full credit for being a dominant force then. The problem is that since then, The Incredible One has spent his time as The Unpredictable One. Sometimes you get the world-class athlete who can match you move for move, a truly threatening foe. Sometimes you get a wrestler chasing after past glory who lost his edge and can't find a way to replace it. I was hoping maybe we'd be getting the former, but at this point, TIO is looking on the way OUT. Maybe he'll surprise me. Maybe the man who's done what I crave and gotten into Hall of Fames can reemerge for this contest. A fighter can dream.<br />
<br />
And then there's Felix Jones... who sounds like an animated character, not a wrestler. He's clearly the man I know the least about. He appears to be the smallest wrestler in this one, which is probably going to be a major drawback when you consider the beef involved. But he's also a former X-Treme Champion. He's been to the, well, not to the top, but he's at least been a man who wore some gold. But get got his ass handed to him by Hanari Carnes. Actually, it was more his own arm being ripped out of its socket. On the plus side, Felix could probably scratch that itch on the lower back for a while. Is he fully healed? Because this looks like the first time he's returned to the ring since the incident that might have earned him the nickname Lefty in the future. From what I've seen, Felix was put in this match out of his past accomplishments, not for anything he's done since he tasted defeat.<br />
<br />
And that seems to be the crux of the matter for this one. Legend, TIO, Felix, they all seem to have one thing in common: they're all on a downhill trajectory in their careers, trying to find some last gasps of hope amidst their crumbling job prospects. You can't tell me that any of these guys deserve a title shot from what they've done lately. I, on the other hand, have all the accomplishments laid out in front of me. You may get tired of hearing them listed, but I never will. Manifest Destiny winner. Leap of Faith Battle Royal winner. Legend Killer, or at least Legend Eraser, the way Johnny's memory has become. And now Spellbreaker, as The Wizard was left out cold at my feet, unable to weave any magic to save himself.<br />
<br />
Who is the only wrestler on their way up the ladder? Me. Who is the only wrestler not facing obscurity? Me. And who is the only wrestler who can flip off someone from impossible directions? Well, that's probably Felix again. I hope his arm holds together this week. It'd be a shame if it came off permanently this time.<br />
<br />
Legend, if you can just remember one thing, remember this: you agreed to fight me again, so this is all on your addled little head. TIO, show me something, anything, to make you anything more than a forgotten threat. And Felix? Give me a wave to show that you still can. It's hard to believe, after what I've done in this fed, these are the opponents I have. Page must be praying that I slip on some vomit and be unable to stop a pinfall, because that's the only way I'm not coming for the Television Championship. To all my weakened foes, all I can say is: Treasure Every Moment as if it were your last.</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">3:56 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We return to real life, this time joining Andrew Logan as he waits in a police station for Detective Ramirez to finish his phone call. Logan impatiently kicks at the chair, even as the phone clicks back down.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - Please don't break that, Mr. Logan, I'd be forced to arrest your, and that leads to paperwork.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Sorry, but I've got better things to do than just hang out here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - I'll make it short and sweet then. Have you received any communication from Mr. Malcolm Price?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - You couldn't have asked me that on the phone? Damn. No, I haven't heard from him. I was hoping you called me in because YOU found out something!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~In response, Ramirez shifts his monitor around to show to Logan. There appears to be a spreadsheet of data there, which has Logan almost immediately cross-eyed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - What the hell is that?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - That, Mr. Logan, is the evidence that Mr. Price was an embezzler. We think he made off with roughly &#36;2.3 million dollars.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Malcolm? You're barking up the wrong tree. Don't get me wrong, he's smart enough to pull something like that off, but only if he was donating it to some charities.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - No, we're almost certain that he kept all of it and is currently on the run. If you are in contact with him and we find out, it could go very, very badly for you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - That almost sounded like a threat, officer...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan's arm tightens on the chair he kicked earlier. A noticeable crack is heard. Ramirez appears to start to sweat, as he wipes a hand across his brow.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - I'm just letting you know the facts, Mr. Logan. Stay in touch, and don't... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - If you're going to suggest to not leave town, you might want to remember I'm a wrestler. So I'll be going wherever I want, no matter what you say. As an example... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan suddenly turns and leaves the room, with Ramirez seemingly grateful to see him go, even if it means he has nothing on him. Some meetings just aren't worth your time. The shot jumps to outside the police station, as Logan stops to consult his phone. He thinks it over out loud.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - I know you didn't do this, Malcolm. But I wish you'd find a way to contact me, buddy. I wish there was something more I could do... but then... maybe there is... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~After a few more seconds of though, Logan presses an auto-dial.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Michelle? It's Andrew. Look, if I can get you some financial documentation, you could find a way to sort through them looking for discrepancies? I know it's not like writing code or anything... you think you can? Alright, then hopefully after tonight, I'll have something for you. Yeah, just gotta pay another visit to my uncle's office... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan hangs up, nodding to himself. It's time to go back where a lot of this began.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">10:32 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We cut to a shot from inside the office complex of Uncle Arthur Logan, a well-known criminal who always found a way to avoid any prosecution. On this night, though, he appears to be the victim, as we see the front door finally give way after some work from Andrew Logan. He steps through the doorway, listening for any alarm going off, but thankfully hearing nothing. He knew his uncle was probably too big a cheapskate to secure things fully. He walks past the cubicles, heading for his uncle's office, the one most likely to have the documentation he needs.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Alright, Uncle. Let's see what you've been hiding.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan's luck seems to continue, as his uncle's office door is standing wide open. This makes Andrew pause for a few seconds, as Uncle Arthur at least seemed to be the type to lock up his own stuff more securely. Andrew stepped inside, looking around, and he looks even happier to see the blinking lights on the computer, as everything seems to be unlocked. Logan steps towards it, prepared to see what he can find, when he hears the slightest noise coming from behind him.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Damn it. Didn't clear the... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~As Logan starts to spin around, a blast of electricity can be seen from a taser rifle, hitting Logan squarely in the chest. After what seems like an eternity to the wrestler, the lights finally go out, even as Logan feels his head smack down on the side of the desk....</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:25 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We return to the imagery of Logan standing in the midst of Hell, as everything appears to be on fire. He just barely dodged oncoming debris from the ceiling, saving himself a scorching burn across the back, but it's starting to look more and more inevitable that things are going to end here on the Andrew Logan Comeback Tour.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Think, man, think! There's got to be another... oh, fuck, that's right! The bolt hole!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan turns and runs back the way he came, seemingly deeper into the inferno. He has a plan, though, if he can only survive long enough to implement it. Soon, Logan is back in Uncle Arthur's office, reaching out and grabbing the computer on the way back. He rips the top off, quickly yanking the hard drive out in a method that would make any computer professional scream in agony, but he has no time to spare. Logan then turns to a set of file cabinets in the back, ramming into them to knock them out of the way. Behind them lies a hidden doorway, put in especially for if the police were raiding the place. Logan heads through, taking the hidden ladder behind the door down to the sewers, and finds a way to safety. He emerges further down the road, conceivably outside of a police zone, as he sees the fire engines pulling up to combat the blaze. Logan turns and walks in the other direction, wanting no connection to the fire.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:58 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Back at Logan's loft, we see the wrestler sitting back, thinking things over as he taps the hard drive in his hand.~[/i[</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - So who did it? I could see Uncle Arthur burning his own place down, I'm sure it's insured... but surely he knew I'd be able to get out of that room, and he's the one who told me about the bolt hole. Could it have been someone else? Someone breaking in the same time I was?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color">[i]~Logan stares down at the hard drive once more, thinking about the processor sitting in his hands that someone else had accessed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Was it you, Malcolm? Did you try and kill me?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan shakes his head, knowing there's no proof of that... but it's still a possibility to consider. He looks at the clock as it turns once more.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">12:00 AM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Brand new day. Time to make the most of it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan gets up and walks off, having no intention of going to sleep, even though his body might need it. We fade out.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
</span></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><img src="https://p11.secure.hostingprod.com/@accelerator3359.com/ssl/andrewloganroster.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: andrewloganroster.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:20 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00ffff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We slowly open on an image we've seen multiple times before: Andrew Logan's old kitchen. Andrew is seated at the table, looking around, always amazed at how vivid it looks. It almost feels like he's actually there. A woman walks in: Grace, Andrew's lost wife. She stands next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and he smiles faintly up at her.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - I'm sorry for what happened to you, Grace. I still can't quite remember yet, but I've come to terms with the fact that I deserve blame for everything that went down.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Grace Logan - You shouldn't try to lift the whole world on your shoulders, Andrew. I made my own decisions.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00ffff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Andrew slowly reaches up, taking Grace's hand in his own.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - If there was a way to go back and change all of this, Grace... I would do it, no hesitation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Grace Logan - I know, my love. But for right now, don't worry about the past. Worry about the future. Now get up, Andrew.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00ffff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Andrew starts to stand, beginning to cough. He looks around the kitchen again, seeing flashes of light. Shadows are dancing along the walls.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Grace Logan - Get up, Andrew..... GET UP!</span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:23 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan snaps his eyes fully open, seeing the flames that are gathered all around him. He turns, rushing forward towards a closed door, slamming all his weight against it. The door cracks under the pressure. One more good shot shatters it for good, allowing Logan to stumble out into an inferno. The office building has been lit up, with cubicles forming a burning maze in front of Logan. A maze that doesn't look survivable.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Fuck! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan starts to run around the wreckage, ignoring the blood he can feel still oozing from a wound on the back of his head. He works down one path, but a fallen piece of the roof blocks his path, forcing him backwards due to the intense heat.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - There's got to *cough*... be a way...*cough* out of here... *cough*</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan looks up suddenly, noticing another piece of the ceiling about to come down... right on top of him...~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">9:33 AM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~The image shifts to much earlier in the day, where we see Andrew Logan seated in what looks to be a breakfast dining establishment with a younger woman. This woman has been seen before as well: Michelle Cuthers, a long-time friend of a man that Logan is desperately seeking. The two have plates of bacon & eggs in front of them, with Logan having also gotten the pancakes. The eating has been sporadic, though, as the two have spent the time talking about Michelle's findings.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - I still can't believe Malcolm did this much work for you. There have been so many documents to go through.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Malcolm was always nothing but thorough.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - "Is", Andrew, not "was". We don't know that he's... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Michelle doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't have to. Malcolm has been missing for weeks now, with no sign of anything changing. Logan last saw him when he was asking Malcolm for a 'favor': to look into his past and discover the truth of what really happened to Andrew Logan's wife. Malcolm vanished, but his flash drive has been giving up information to Michelle once she's able to decode them... including a fake obituary for Grace and other false documents online. Michelle pulls out one of the latest items she's accessed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - As you can see here, Malcolm found this documentation for you. It's from a psychiatric institution.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan takes the file less than enthusiastically. This, at least, is something that's familiar to him.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - I don't know why he was looking at this one, Michelle. I... did spend some time at this facility. I had to work through some... personality issues I was having.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~From the look on Logan's face, "personality issues" is an understatement. But Michelle is already shaking her head.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - But that's the thing, Andrew. Malcolm apparently found two sets of documents. In that one, it talks about you fighting multiple personality disorder... but in this one, the diagnosis is different, simply dealing with depression.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan looks back and forth between the two printouts, even more confused.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Wait, I wasn't there for... but then... I don't understand this at all. Why would everything be changed?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FDFD29;" class="mycode_color"> Michelle Cuthers - I really don't know, Andrew. But you do see who committed you on the second sheet, right?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - My uncle... son of a bitch... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~The two continue to go over the details, as the waitress comes by and looks disapprovingly at the lack of food being consumed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i"> The last time I made my way onto XWF Television, I was set to fight a Wizard. That one didn't go the way I expected it to, because in my mind, I saw the Wizard being unconscious because of my own hand, instead of someone else's. It proved to be a waste of my time, one that slowed down my path towards the top.<br />
<br />
But now I've found out that I have another chance at Relentless. Amazingly, I only have to defeat three other men in one contest, to earn a future title shot against the Television Champion, whoever that turns out to be after this weekend is over.  Child's play, when you think of how many I defeated to win the Leap of Faith Battle Royal. Three should be a breeze, assuming I make it there in one piece. Each of these opponents I have a different level of knowledge about. Each is debatable as a threat.<br />
<br />
You have Johnny Legend. I guess I have to take back my "Legend Killer" status, as the man decided not to die after all. Props to him for that, as although I wasn't completely trying to end his career, I was hoping I'd at least put him down for a while. I defeated Legend quite handily, which most would take as a sign that I'll be able to destroy him once again. But in my mind, I consider Legend the most dangerous foe in this competition. Am I suddenly respecting the man's talent inside the squared circle? No, he's still a buffoon who should have probably stopped while he still had a few brain cells left to allow him to remember his competition. But Legend might still instinctively know what it's like being in the ring with me. He, more than the other two, might actually have picked up a trick or two to use against me. So I guarantee that when I get to that ring, Legend will be my primary target, at least until he's laid out, drooling, on the canvas.<br />
<br />
The Incredible One is an interesting opponent. I know TIO's history from some of the other organizations he's gone through, including my former stomping grounds, OCW. We've both been OCW World Heavyweight Champion, and while I'm sure he doesn't want to acknowledge my run at the top, I'll give him full credit for being a dominant force then. The problem is that since then, The Incredible One has spent his time as The Unpredictable One. Sometimes you get the world-class athlete who can match you move for move, a truly threatening foe. Sometimes you get a wrestler chasing after past glory who lost his edge and can't find a way to replace it. I was hoping maybe we'd be getting the former, but at this point, TIO is looking on the way OUT. Maybe he'll surprise me. Maybe the man who's done what I crave and gotten into Hall of Fames can reemerge for this contest. A fighter can dream.<br />
<br />
And then there's Felix Jones... who sounds like an animated character, not a wrestler. He's clearly the man I know the least about. He appears to be the smallest wrestler in this one, which is probably going to be a major drawback when you consider the beef involved. But he's also a former X-Treme Champion. He's been to the, well, not to the top, but he's at least been a man who wore some gold. But get got his ass handed to him by Hanari Carnes. Actually, it was more his own arm being ripped out of its socket. On the plus side, Felix could probably scratch that itch on the lower back for a while. Is he fully healed? Because this looks like the first time he's returned to the ring since the incident that might have earned him the nickname Lefty in the future. From what I've seen, Felix was put in this match out of his past accomplishments, not for anything he's done since he tasted defeat.<br />
<br />
And that seems to be the crux of the matter for this one. Legend, TIO, Felix, they all seem to have one thing in common: they're all on a downhill trajectory in their careers, trying to find some last gasps of hope amidst their crumbling job prospects. You can't tell me that any of these guys deserve a title shot from what they've done lately. I, on the other hand, have all the accomplishments laid out in front of me. You may get tired of hearing them listed, but I never will. Manifest Destiny winner. Leap of Faith Battle Royal winner. Legend Killer, or at least Legend Eraser, the way Johnny's memory has become. And now Spellbreaker, as The Wizard was left out cold at my feet, unable to weave any magic to save himself.<br />
<br />
Who is the only wrestler on their way up the ladder? Me. Who is the only wrestler not facing obscurity? Me. And who is the only wrestler who can flip off someone from impossible directions? Well, that's probably Felix again. I hope his arm holds together this week. It'd be a shame if it came off permanently this time.<br />
<br />
Legend, if you can just remember one thing, remember this: you agreed to fight me again, so this is all on your addled little head. TIO, show me something, anything, to make you anything more than a forgotten threat. And Felix? Give me a wave to show that you still can. It's hard to believe, after what I've done in this fed, these are the opponents I have. Page must be praying that I slip on some vomit and be unable to stop a pinfall, because that's the only way I'm not coming for the Television Championship. To all my weakened foes, all I can say is: Treasure Every Moment as if it were your last.</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">3:56 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We return to real life, this time joining Andrew Logan as he waits in a police station for Detective Ramirez to finish his phone call. Logan impatiently kicks at the chair, even as the phone clicks back down.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - Please don't break that, Mr. Logan, I'd be forced to arrest your, and that leads to paperwork.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Sorry, but I've got better things to do than just hang out here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - I'll make it short and sweet then. Have you received any communication from Mr. Malcolm Price?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - You couldn't have asked me that on the phone? Damn. No, I haven't heard from him. I was hoping you called me in because YOU found out something!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~In response, Ramirez shifts his monitor around to show to Logan. There appears to be a spreadsheet of data there, which has Logan almost immediately cross-eyed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - What the hell is that?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - That, Mr. Logan, is the evidence that Mr. Price was an embezzler. We think he made off with roughly &#36;2.3 million dollars.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Malcolm? You're barking up the wrong tree. Don't get me wrong, he's smart enough to pull something like that off, but only if he was donating it to some charities.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - No, we're almost certain that he kept all of it and is currently on the run. If you are in contact with him and we find out, it could go very, very badly for you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - That almost sounded like a threat, officer...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan's arm tightens on the chair he kicked earlier. A noticeable crack is heard. Ramirez appears to start to sweat, as he wipes a hand across his brow.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #696969;" class="mycode_color">Detective Ramirez - I'm just letting you know the facts, Mr. Logan. Stay in touch, and don't... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - If you're going to suggest to not leave town, you might want to remember I'm a wrestler. So I'll be going wherever I want, no matter what you say. As an example... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan suddenly turns and leaves the room, with Ramirez seemingly grateful to see him go, even if it means he has nothing on him. Some meetings just aren't worth your time. The shot jumps to outside the police station, as Logan stops to consult his phone. He thinks it over out loud.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - I know you didn't do this, Malcolm. But I wish you'd find a way to contact me, buddy. I wish there was something more I could do... but then... maybe there is... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~After a few more seconds of though, Logan presses an auto-dial.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Michelle? It's Andrew. Look, if I can get you some financial documentation, you could find a way to sort through them looking for discrepancies? I know it's not like writing code or anything... you think you can? Alright, then hopefully after tonight, I'll have something for you. Yeah, just gotta pay another visit to my uncle's office... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan hangs up, nodding to himself. It's time to go back where a lot of this began.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">10:32 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We cut to a shot from inside the office complex of Uncle Arthur Logan, a well-known criminal who always found a way to avoid any prosecution. On this night, though, he appears to be the victim, as we see the front door finally give way after some work from Andrew Logan. He steps through the doorway, listening for any alarm going off, but thankfully hearing nothing. He knew his uncle was probably too big a cheapskate to secure things fully. He walks past the cubicles, heading for his uncle's office, the one most likely to have the documentation he needs.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Alright, Uncle. Let's see what you've been hiding.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan's luck seems to continue, as his uncle's office door is standing wide open. This makes Andrew pause for a few seconds, as Uncle Arthur at least seemed to be the type to lock up his own stuff more securely. Andrew stepped inside, looking around, and he looks even happier to see the blinking lights on the computer, as everything seems to be unlocked. Logan steps towards it, prepared to see what he can find, when he hears the slightest noise coming from behind him.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Damn it. Didn't clear the... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~As Logan starts to spin around, a blast of electricity can be seen from a taser rifle, hitting Logan squarely in the chest. After what seems like an eternity to the wrestler, the lights finally go out, even as Logan feels his head smack down on the side of the desk....</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:25 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~We return to the imagery of Logan standing in the midst of Hell, as everything appears to be on fire. He just barely dodged oncoming debris from the ceiling, saving himself a scorching burn across the back, but it's starting to look more and more inevitable that things are going to end here on the Andrew Logan Comeback Tour.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Think, man, think! There's got to be another... oh, fuck, that's right! The bolt hole!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan turns and runs back the way he came, seemingly deeper into the inferno. He has a plan, though, if he can only survive long enough to implement it. Soon, Logan is back in Uncle Arthur's office, reaching out and grabbing the computer on the way back. He rips the top off, quickly yanking the hard drive out in a method that would make any computer professional scream in agony, but he has no time to spare. Logan then turns to a set of file cabinets in the back, ramming into them to knock them out of the way. Behind them lies a hidden doorway, put in especially for if the police were raiding the place. Logan heads through, taking the hidden ladder behind the door down to the sewers, and finds a way to safety. He emerges further down the road, conceivably outside of a police zone, as he sees the fire engines pulling up to combat the blaze. Logan turns and walks in the other direction, wanting no connection to the fire.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">11:58 PM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Back at Logan's loft, we see the wrestler sitting back, thinking things over as he taps the hard drive in his hand.~[/i[</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - So who did it? I could see Uncle Arthur burning his own place down, I'm sure it's insured... but surely he knew I'd be able to get out of that room, and he's the one who told me about the bolt hole. Could it have been someone else? Someone breaking in the same time I was?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color">[i]~Logan stares down at the hard drive once more, thinking about the processor sitting in his hands that someone else had accessed.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Was it you, Malcolm? Did you try and kill me?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan shakes his head, knowing there's no proof of that... but it's still a possibility to consider. He looks at the clock as it turns once more.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Impact;" class="mycode_font"><span style="font-size: medium;" class="mycode_size">12:00 AM</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff0040;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Logan - Brand new day. Time to make the most of it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #005cff;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">~Logan gets up and walks off, having no intention of going to sleep, even though his body might need it. We fade out.~</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
</span></div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Visiting Mom]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38296</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2020 22:00:10 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2356">LiamRoberts</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38296</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">OOC: Holy shit I never realize how fast 500 words fill up.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">As I drive through the streets of London, Ontario I couldn’t help but remember what it was like growing up here, what it was like to play street hockey on the roads stopping the game while we waited for each car to pass. I turn down the street lived on for most of my life and pull into the driveway of the 2nd house on the block. I have been to visit my mother since the whole pandemic. Walking up to the door and reach down to the doorbell, I press it twice and within a few minutes, I could hear stirring from inside the home. Reaching down to the mask that was sitting improperly on my chin I pull it up over my face. I know I don’t have corona as we get tested in the XWF but I rather not take any chances as my mother’s health hasn’t been the greatest and I wouldn’t want to chance it. The door flings open and standing before me was the woman that raised me, my mother. I could tell that she didn’t recognize me at first with the mask covering half my face.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">William?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">My voice is a little muffed from the mask but she was able to make out what I said clearly enough.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Hi Mom</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">She grabs me and pulls me into her chest and just hugs me. I know we shouldn’t be hugging and trying to practice social distancing but it just felt so perfect, before I could stop myself, and just embrace the hug. We hug for what seems like hours but truthfully was only no more than a few minutes. We break apart and she wipes a tear away from her face.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">What are you doing here?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">What a son can’t want to see his mother?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">I am just surprised to see you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">If I wanted you to know I was coming I would have called and told you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">Can I get you a drink or something to eat?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">That’s my mother always thinking that I need to eat more, even as a kid I never went hungry, and with her being a single parent I have no clue how she managed it. We walk down the hall to the living room you could see the wall was covered in photos of me as a kid. The was one where I was no older than 12-13, taken just before hockey practice so I was dressed in full uniform. As any Canadian kid hockey was in my blood and I actually thought about playing professionally, but the wrestling bug took root and I went down a different path. I walk into the living room at sit down on a chair across from the couch that my mother was sitting at. Now that we were more than 2 feet apart, I slide the mask off, and look up at my mom and just smile, I never realized how much I missed her until this moment. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">I love you</span></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">OOC: Holy shit I never realize how fast 500 words fill up.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">As I drive through the streets of London, Ontario I couldn’t help but remember what it was like growing up here, what it was like to play street hockey on the roads stopping the game while we waited for each car to pass. I turn down the street lived on for most of my life and pull into the driveway of the 2nd house on the block. I have been to visit my mother since the whole pandemic. Walking up to the door and reach down to the doorbell, I press it twice and within a few minutes, I could hear stirring from inside the home. Reaching down to the mask that was sitting improperly on my chin I pull it up over my face. I know I don’t have corona as we get tested in the XWF but I rather not take any chances as my mother’s health hasn’t been the greatest and I wouldn’t want to chance it. The door flings open and standing before me was the woman that raised me, my mother. I could tell that she didn’t recognize me at first with the mask covering half my face.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">William?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">My voice is a little muffed from the mask but she was able to make out what I said clearly enough.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Hi Mom</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">She grabs me and pulls me into her chest and just hugs me. I know we shouldn’t be hugging and trying to practice social distancing but it just felt so perfect, before I could stop myself, and just embrace the hug. We hug for what seems like hours but truthfully was only no more than a few minutes. We break apart and she wipes a tear away from her face.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">What are you doing here?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">What a son can’t want to see his mother?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">I am just surprised to see you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">If I wanted you to know I was coming I would have called and told you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #32CD32;" class="mycode_color">Can I get you a drink or something to eat?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">That’s my mother always thinking that I need to eat more, even as a kid I never went hungry, and with her being a single parent I have no clue how she managed it. We walk down the hall to the living room you could see the wall was covered in photos of me as a kid. The was one where I was no older than 12-13, taken just before hockey practice so I was dressed in full uniform. As any Canadian kid hockey was in my blood and I actually thought about playing professionally, but the wrestling bug took root and I went down a different path. I walk into the living room at sit down on a chair across from the couch that my mother was sitting at. Now that we were more than 2 feet apart, I slide the mask off, and look up at my mom and just smile, I never realized how much I missed her until this moment. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">I love you</span></div>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Last Minute Shit]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38294</link>
			<pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2020 20:24:49 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=586">Theo Pryce</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38294</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Fc2Ioszl-3s?autoplay=1&rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
As the scene fades in we see an exterior shot of a big brown building located at the front of the Santa Monica Pier. The building which had several vacant  commercial spaces in it has been rented out by the XWF for the weekend to be used as make shift locker rooms and offices for this weekend's 3 day Pay Per View extravaganza. In one of the spaces tucked away in the corner working diligently like the amazing executive that he is is Theo Pryce, partial owner of the XWF and all around great guy. <br />
<br />
The desk he is using is actually just a white folding table that is cluttered by mountains of paperwork. In the center of the desk is a small laptop which of course is not plugged in because have you ever seen a plugged in laptop on any tv show, movie or porn? No of course you haven't so why should the XWF be any different? Sitting approximately 10 feet from Theo in a folding chair is Theo's assistant, a lovely middle eastern fellow named Taj. Taj is feverishly taking notes on his also unplugged laptop as Theo fires random notes over at him in rapid success. <br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Caterer?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Caterer confirmed sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Permits?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">All permits have been confirmed for except for one and they are scheduled to be here this morning to deliver it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I want you on it personal Patel you hear me. No more fuck ups like the last time or I'll fire you and then it's back to whatever sand covered 3rd world ISIS training ground you came from. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I was born here sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Not with a name like Taj Patel you weren't. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">My parents are both from India sir. I was born in Chicago. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Well ain't that some shit. Alright back on topic Patel. Where were we?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Permits. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Right. Right. Permits. You got that covered. What else?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I spoke to Bob Williams, Atticus White and James Raven as you requested and they all assured me that everything was good on their end.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And what about Vinnie Lane?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I have not been able to get in touch with Mr.Lane sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That fucking figures. Leave it to Lane to go MIA when something big is about to...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">What's up dude?</span> Vinnie Lane asks as he appears on the scene while sipping his Pumpkin Latte. <br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Well what do you know. Vinnie Lane, here in the flesh. Figured you'd be off handling another Anarchy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">There is no Anarchy scheduled right now Theo. Not that I'd expect you to know that. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That's exactly why I have Taj here, he keeps me abreast of anything that happens on your little side project. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">It's not a side project it's a full fledge show. Just like Savage, just like Warfare.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Yeah...</span>(awkward pause)<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> whatever helps you sleep better at night Vinnie. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">It does help me sleep at night actually. So where do we stand with everything?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Oh sure. Show up at the 11th hour wanting to know where we stand. I see your game Lane and I'm not playing. Patel, can you answer Mr. Lane's question? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Everything is looking good Mr. Lane. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">There. You happy? Can I get back to what I'm supposed to be doing?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Absolutely dude. And you don't need to flip me attitude. I was just asking. That's my job after all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">What's your job?</span> Raven asks as he starts raiding Theo's makeshift dry bar. <span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">"Jesus Theo, what is this crap? Where's all the good stuff?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">You see this place James? This isn't some 5th floor corner office with security in place. It's a corner of some renting out office space. Any left wing pussy ass liberal can walk or roller skate off that pier into this office and steal from us. So no James I am not going to put out the good stuff just for it to get stolen.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">I highly doubt a &#36;500 bottle of whiskey is going to break the bank Theo. What are you worth now anyway after you sold Decima? 300? 400 million?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That's not the point James. It's the principle of the matter. You of all people should appreciate something like that. Anyway if you two don't mind I am trying to run down the checklist with Sanjay over here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Isn't his name Taj?</span> Lane asks Raven.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">It isn't.</span> Theo responds. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">It is.</span> Responds not Sanjay.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Look!</span> Theo shouts as he stands up behind his table and slams both fists down. <span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> I am trying to get through this checklist so I can get the fuck out of here. Can you guys leave us in peace? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">Fine.</span> Raven snaps back while grabbing for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. <span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">But I'm taking this with me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">You buying?</span> Lane asks Raven<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">Sure why not.</span> Raven responds as the two other owners disappear off into the distance. <br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Fucking finally. Ok back to the checklist. Where did we leave off?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Permits sir. Taken care of. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Great. But I feel like I am forgetting something. I just can't put my finger on it. Ahhh fuck it. What's next on the list?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">The light and sound guys just arrived they are in the process of installing everything as we speak. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Now? They just got here now? What the fuck? Why so late?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Apparently it was much more difficult for them to hook everything up at Alcatraz and so they are behind here. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What? Whose fucking idea was it to hook up the lights and sound for day 2 before day 1? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">According to my notes here it was you sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What? That's impossible. Why would I do that?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I don't know sir but it's what I have here. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Listen Sanjay or Osama or whatever the fuck your name is...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">It's Taj sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Listen TJ there is no way I would have made such a boneheaded mistake. That's something MicroD would do not me. In fact where is that rent-a-GM anyway?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I don't know sir do you want me to find him?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">No. I'm sure that worm will turn up eventually. Anyway, next agenda item. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">The Hall of Legends stage sir. They wanted to know where you wanted it set up at the Rose Bowl? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Raven isn't handling that?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Evidently not sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I swear to Christ why is that guy even on staff here?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">He's a part owner sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Yeah. Part owner. He is about as useful as an Executive Producer on a film. Speaking of...what the fuck am I forgetting? I swear there is something. I can feel it gnawing at me. Anyway tell the Rose Bowl people to put the stage somewhere near the north end zone. Perhaps with the field goal posts serving as the background of sorts. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Very good sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What else?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">That's actually everything on my list sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Really?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Yes sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That's it? Geez, with all the bitching and moaning these GM's do around here you'd thinking running a show is hard or something. Seems like fucking cake to me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Oh one more thing sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I knew it. I fucking knew it. Lay it on me Dev. What is it?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">What entrance music did you want for your match tomorrow night? King of Kings or Money Talks?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Wait what? My match...well shit. I knew I forgot something.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/media/887ba6802f0f3e3abf0fc617256560335f3e15d4/791_581_5185_3366/master/5185.jpg?width=700&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=9572394ece13b769e6c123b2cab65dcb" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 5185.jpg?width=700&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=forma...b2cab65dcb]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFFFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Leave it to a rich white guy to outsource menial work to the colored guy. Read the room Theo. Christ.<br />
<br />
Apparently my boy has a match tomorrow night. A match he completely forgot about. Probably because he didn't care about it in the first fucking place because why would he? Why should he waste his time and effort addressing this clown anyway? What hasn't been said about Chris Chaos? This guy has come up on the short end of the stick so many times in the past few years that there is literally nothing I could say that would further diminish him. The epitome of disgusting slime; Chaos is the physical embodiment of the liquid leaking from the bottom of a neglected garbage bag. A disposable collection or fly-drawing, rotted garbage couldn't be a more apt comparison to the flash-in-the-pan husk of a man who never belonged in the big leagues in the first place."<br />
<br />
"And yet...Words just can't quite capture how grotesque the mere existence of Chris Chaos really is."<br />
<br />
"I've been around the XWF a long, long time. It's not completely unheard of that an undeserving, underwhelming nobody like Chaos gets an opportunity and runs with it...Look at Vinnie, Gator, Lacklan--but at least they were able to rise to the occasion and not become a complete laughing stock. Yet Chaos, in his odd desire to buck the trends, got his opportunity and fell face-first into a pile of shit. And how'd he react? Did he get up, dust himself off and prove his worth? No. He languished in that pile of shit. He embraced it. He consumed it. He BECAME it. If there is an omnipotent being in the clouds watching over us, he must be grinding his molars into a fine powder watching one his few mistakes validate questions to his perfection."<br />
<br />
"If there is a God, how could he have fucked up -this- badly?"<br />
<br />
"But maybe he didn't."<br />
<br />
"Maybe the good lord above woke up and realized that the world needed balance. His creations were too perfect, perhaps. Like Theo and Me. He needed something to make us question him and his motives. Enter Chris Chaos; such a loathsome and despicable creature writhing in the dirt so pathetically that humankind had to stop and wonder: 'If there is a God, how could he allow such a nauseating cretin to exist?' Gotta hand it to the big man, it's a riddle we'll never know the answer to."<br />
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
**********************************<br />
<br />
OOC: Yes I am aware that someone else writing trash talk for you is strictly forbidden and against the rules but as the future hero Judge Dredd was fond of saying "I AM THE LAW" But no seriously, I am hoping you can see that the trash talk was done the way it was because it fit the story I was telling in the rp and since the match is scripted anyway *spoilers* and I'm writing for fun and not to win no harm no foul. But yeah if you are trying to win a match for real write your own trash talk.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Fc2Ioszl-3s?autoplay=1&rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
As the scene fades in we see an exterior shot of a big brown building located at the front of the Santa Monica Pier. The building which had several vacant  commercial spaces in it has been rented out by the XWF for the weekend to be used as make shift locker rooms and offices for this weekend's 3 day Pay Per View extravaganza. In one of the spaces tucked away in the corner working diligently like the amazing executive that he is is Theo Pryce, partial owner of the XWF and all around great guy. <br />
<br />
The desk he is using is actually just a white folding table that is cluttered by mountains of paperwork. In the center of the desk is a small laptop which of course is not plugged in because have you ever seen a plugged in laptop on any tv show, movie or porn? No of course you haven't so why should the XWF be any different? Sitting approximately 10 feet from Theo in a folding chair is Theo's assistant, a lovely middle eastern fellow named Taj. Taj is feverishly taking notes on his also unplugged laptop as Theo fires random notes over at him in rapid success. <br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Caterer?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Caterer confirmed sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Permits?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">All permits have been confirmed for except for one and they are scheduled to be here this morning to deliver it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I want you on it personal Patel you hear me. No more fuck ups like the last time or I'll fire you and then it's back to whatever sand covered 3rd world ISIS training ground you came from. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I was born here sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Not with a name like Taj Patel you weren't. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">My parents are both from India sir. I was born in Chicago. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Well ain't that some shit. Alright back on topic Patel. Where were we?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Permits. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Right. Right. Permits. You got that covered. What else?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I spoke to Bob Williams, Atticus White and James Raven as you requested and they all assured me that everything was good on their end.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And what about Vinnie Lane?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I have not been able to get in touch with Mr.Lane sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That fucking figures. Leave it to Lane to go MIA when something big is about to...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">What's up dude?</span> Vinnie Lane asks as he appears on the scene while sipping his Pumpkin Latte. <br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Well what do you know. Vinnie Lane, here in the flesh. Figured you'd be off handling another Anarchy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">There is no Anarchy scheduled right now Theo. Not that I'd expect you to know that. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That's exactly why I have Taj here, he keeps me abreast of anything that happens on your little side project. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">It's not a side project it's a full fledge show. Just like Savage, just like Warfare.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Yeah...</span>(awkward pause)<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> whatever helps you sleep better at night Vinnie. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">It does help me sleep at night actually. So where do we stand with everything?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Oh sure. Show up at the 11th hour wanting to know where we stand. I see your game Lane and I'm not playing. Patel, can you answer Mr. Lane's question? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Everything is looking good Mr. Lane. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">There. You happy? Can I get back to what I'm supposed to be doing?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Absolutely dude. And you don't need to flip me attitude. I was just asking. That's my job after all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">What's your job?</span> Raven asks as he starts raiding Theo's makeshift dry bar. <span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">"Jesus Theo, what is this crap? Where's all the good stuff?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">You see this place James? This isn't some 5th floor corner office with security in place. It's a corner of some renting out office space. Any left wing pussy ass liberal can walk or roller skate off that pier into this office and steal from us. So no James I am not going to put out the good stuff just for it to get stolen.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">I highly doubt a &#36;500 bottle of whiskey is going to break the bank Theo. What are you worth now anyway after you sold Decima? 300? 400 million?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That's not the point James. It's the principle of the matter. You of all people should appreciate something like that. Anyway if you two don't mind I am trying to run down the checklist with Sanjay over here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">Isn't his name Taj?</span> Lane asks Raven.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">It isn't.</span> Theo responds. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">It is.</span> Responds not Sanjay.<br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Look!</span> Theo shouts as he stands up behind his table and slams both fists down. <span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> I am trying to get through this checklist so I can get the fuck out of here. Can you guys leave us in peace? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">Fine.</span> Raven snaps back while grabbing for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. <span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">But I'm taking this with me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF1493;" class="mycode_color">You buying?</span> Lane asks Raven<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #1E90FF;" class="mycode_color">Sure why not.</span> Raven responds as the two other owners disappear off into the distance. <br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Fucking finally. Ok back to the checklist. Where did we leave off?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Permits sir. Taken care of. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Great. But I feel like I am forgetting something. I just can't put my finger on it. Ahhh fuck it. What's next on the list?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">The light and sound guys just arrived they are in the process of installing everything as we speak. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Now? They just got here now? What the fuck? Why so late?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Apparently it was much more difficult for them to hook everything up at Alcatraz and so they are behind here. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What? Whose fucking idea was it to hook up the lights and sound for day 2 before day 1? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">According to my notes here it was you sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What? That's impossible. Why would I do that?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I don't know sir but it's what I have here. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Listen Sanjay or Osama or whatever the fuck your name is...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">It's Taj sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Listen TJ there is no way I would have made such a boneheaded mistake. That's something MicroD would do not me. In fact where is that rent-a-GM anyway?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">I don't know sir do you want me to find him?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">No. I'm sure that worm will turn up eventually. Anyway, next agenda item. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">The Hall of Legends stage sir. They wanted to know where you wanted it set up at the Rose Bowl? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Raven isn't handling that?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Evidently not sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I swear to Christ why is that guy even on staff here?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">He's a part owner sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Yeah. Part owner. He is about as useful as an Executive Producer on a film. Speaking of...what the fuck am I forgetting? I swear there is something. I can feel it gnawing at me. Anyway tell the Rose Bowl people to put the stage somewhere near the north end zone. Perhaps with the field goal posts serving as the background of sorts. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Very good sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What else?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">That's actually everything on my list sir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Really?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Yes sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">That's it? Geez, with all the bitching and moaning these GM's do around here you'd thinking running a show is hard or something. Seems like fucking cake to me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">Oh one more thing sir. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I knew it. I fucking knew it. Lay it on me Dev. What is it?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4682B4;" class="mycode_color">What entrance music did you want for your match tomorrow night? King of Kings or Money Talks?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-shadow: 0 0 7px #00BFFF;font-size:10pt;color:#DCDCDC;font-weight:bold;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Wait what? My match...well shit. I knew I forgot something.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/media/887ba6802f0f3e3abf0fc617256560335f3e15d4/791_581_5185_3366/master/5185.jpg?width=700&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=9572394ece13b769e6c123b2cab65dcb" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 5185.jpg?width=700&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=forma...b2cab65dcb]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFFFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Leave it to a rich white guy to outsource menial work to the colored guy. Read the room Theo. Christ.<br />
<br />
Apparently my boy has a match tomorrow night. A match he completely forgot about. Probably because he didn't care about it in the first fucking place because why would he? Why should he waste his time and effort addressing this clown anyway? What hasn't been said about Chris Chaos? This guy has come up on the short end of the stick so many times in the past few years that there is literally nothing I could say that would further diminish him. The epitome of disgusting slime; Chaos is the physical embodiment of the liquid leaking from the bottom of a neglected garbage bag. A disposable collection or fly-drawing, rotted garbage couldn't be a more apt comparison to the flash-in-the-pan husk of a man who never belonged in the big leagues in the first place."<br />
<br />
"And yet...Words just can't quite capture how grotesque the mere existence of Chris Chaos really is."<br />
<br />
"I've been around the XWF a long, long time. It's not completely unheard of that an undeserving, underwhelming nobody like Chaos gets an opportunity and runs with it...Look at Vinnie, Gator, Lacklan--but at least they were able to rise to the occasion and not become a complete laughing stock. Yet Chaos, in his odd desire to buck the trends, got his opportunity and fell face-first into a pile of shit. And how'd he react? Did he get up, dust himself off and prove his worth? No. He languished in that pile of shit. He embraced it. He consumed it. He BECAME it. If there is an omnipotent being in the clouds watching over us, he must be grinding his molars into a fine powder watching one his few mistakes validate questions to his perfection."<br />
<br />
"If there is a God, how could he have fucked up -this- badly?"<br />
<br />
"But maybe he didn't."<br />
<br />
"Maybe the good lord above woke up and realized that the world needed balance. His creations were too perfect, perhaps. Like Theo and Me. He needed something to make us question him and his motives. Enter Chris Chaos; such a loathsome and despicable creature writhing in the dirt so pathetically that humankind had to stop and wonder: 'If there is a God, how could he allow such a nauseating cretin to exist?' Gotta hand it to the big man, it's a riddle we'll never know the answer to."<br />
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
**********************************<br />
<br />
OOC: Yes I am aware that someone else writing trash talk for you is strictly forbidden and against the rules but as the future hero Judge Dredd was fond of saying "I AM THE LAW" But no seriously, I am hoping you can see that the trash talk was done the way it was because it fit the story I was telling in the rp and since the match is scripted anyway *spoilers* and I'm writing for fun and not to win no harm no foul. But yeah if you are trying to win a match for real write your own trash talk.]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[Elizabeth:  RP #2]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38253</link>
			<pubDate>Sat, 19 Sep 2020 22:02:28 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2607">TD1</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38253</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<span style="font-family: Tahoma;" class="mycode_font"><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" /><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="gold">John Adams Academy || New Haven, Connecticut</font></div><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" />
<br />
<br />
I’m struck with a feelings of relief and of dread.  Liz walks into the IT room with big, dark sunglasses covering her eyes.  It wasn’t enough.  I can see the bruising under both eyes and her lip is cracked.  I’m filled with fear that she was in an accident.  I have this overwhelming dilemma raging within me that I don’t want to let go of Garrett because I missed him so much but at the same time, something happened to my lady.<br />
<br />
What a fucking day.<br />
<br />
On top of all of this, she walks in as Garrett is crying into my shoulder.  Obviously its entirely innocent, but I never <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">feel</span> innocent.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Oh my God what the fuck happened?”</font> I ask her as I let go of Garrett and head to her.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Did you wreck?”</font> Frankie asks with a worried expression as he leaves his chair and runs to her with a hug.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”No honey, I’m okay.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Babe what the hell happened?”</font> I reiterate.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Not now,”</font> she says, her voice shaky.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Can you please do me a favor?”</font> I ask of Garrett.  <font color="gold">”Take a walk with Frankie,”</font> I say as I retrieve a ten dollar bill from my wallet.  <font color="gold">”Grab us all something to drink.”</font><br />
<br />
Once they’re gone, I close the door.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Tell me,”</font> I insist as I kiss her forehead and hold her against my chest.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Don’t say anything, just listen,”</font> she says as she sits down.  I nod, confirming for her that I’ll shut up.  As difficult as that may be.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Alister wasn’t even there when I got there,”</font> she begins.  <font color="pink">”So I started trying to be quick and be in and out before he even got back.  I grabbed a couple of trash bags from the pantry and was about to go upstairs when curiosity got the better of me.<br />
<br />
“I know he has files on just about everyone in his life from his maids, employees, me… so I started thinking ‘does he have one on Thaddeus Duke’?  I went into his study and his safe wasn’t even locked.  That should have been a dead giveaway.<br />
<br />
“He has files on you, on your dad and your uncle.  He has files on fucking Frankie for hells sake.”</font><br />
<br />
Rage burns within me but I contain it for now.  Files on my dad or me, yeah whatever.  Files on Frankie?  A child?  A school age boy?  Are you fucking kidding me?<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”That’s when he came home, as I was looking at Frankie’s file.  It had his birth date, his social security number, his mothers death certificate.”</font>  She lets out a sigh.  <font color="pink">”The school we just registered him at.”</font><br />
<br />
Oh hell no.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I will kill that mother fucker!”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Baby, you promised,”</font> she reminds me.<br />
<br />
Well, OBVIOUSLY I’m going to stand up for Frankie!  <font color="gold">”Go on, I’m sorry.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”He walked in and I was sitting at his desk looking at Frankie’s file and I don’t know.  I’m not his mother but, instincts took over and I confronted him about it.  He said it was nothing, just keeping tabs on his property.<br />
<br />
“He meant me of course, but I pushed him further.  I wanted to know why he wanted information on him.  He said to hurt you if he felt the need.”</font><br />
<br />
Oh I will kill him.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”So in a burst of anger, you know that meteorite paper weight he has?  Well, I picked it up and chucked it at his head.  It only grazed him but he came after me.  I didn’t back down from him and what you see is the result.<br />
<br />
“He busted my phone over my head and threatened to slowly take away everything you loved, Thaddeus.”</font><br />
<br />
I sit in a silent rage.  My blood boils inside and I don’t know how to let it out.  I look over and Garrett and Frankie are standing in the now opened doorway.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”How long have you been standing there?”</font> I ask him through grit teeth, trying so hard to not let out my anger.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”...Since the paper weight,”</font> Garrett answers sheepishly as he hands me a Dr. Pepper.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Liz I got you a Diet Coke like you like!”</font> Frankie says excitedly, entirely and thankfully oblivious to exactly what’s going on.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Aww thank you baby boy, you’re so sweet!”</font> she says, feigning excitement.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I’ll have Jim drive you two home,”</font> I say to her.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”What about you?”</font> asks Frankie.  I can feel his disappointment.  We were supposed to play some video games after the ceremony.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I have to drive to New York for something Frankie.  I’ll be a few hours but I promise, when I get home, we’ll play after dinner.  Okay?”</font><br />
<br />
Liz is cold staring me and I only just now realized it.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’ll be fine,”</font> I say to her very unconvincingly.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I’ll keep him cool,”</font> Garrett says, making me wonder just how much he actually heard.  But I guess it’s a party.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”See, Garrett will keep me cool,”</font> its this moment that I don’t think she’s that comfortable with Garrett around.  I don’t blame her for it.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”You don’t need to go there, you’ll just make it worse,”</font> she says.  And before I can reply she continues.  <font color="pink">”And now you’re gonna drag Garrett into it.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Whatever he is to you,”</font> Garrett interrupts, feeling the sting from her not wanting him there.  <font color="green">”He’s still my friend.  I’ve lost him once before, Elizabeth.  I’m not ready to do that again.”</font><br />
<br />
I grab her hand, and his.  After kissing both hands simultaneously, she walks off with Frankie.  I anticipated incorrectly.  She definitely rolled her eyes as she turned around.  Hindsight being what it is, I’m not sure why I thought that was a good idea.  It certainly wasn’t and now I’ve landed myself in a world of trouble.  Two people that I love passionately are seriously ready to claw at each others eyes.  It isn’t what I intended.  It’s not what I wanted.  To be entirely clear, I’m not so sure even I know what I want.<br />
<br />
If only I could have both…<br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
Two hours later, I roll my car to a stop a block way from the Henry Mansion.  The drive was an interesting one.  Garrett and I talked a good bit about some things.  Reminisced some.  Spoke at great length about Curtis and how much he is missed and how we thought his commencement address would have filled the place with laughter.<br />
<br />
If I said there was no longer a connection when I grabbed his hand earlier I’d be lying.  I feel the same spark when I touch Liz.  I don’t know how I find myself in these predicaments but here we are.  How does one cope with loving two people simultaneously the same way?  The short answer, the easy answer is to let one of them go.  But what if I can’t?  What if I don’t want to?  Then what?  I mean, it’s selfish right?  Not wanting to let go of one so they can move on with their lives and find a new source of happiness?<br />
<br />
My thoughts quickly switch to Liz and the marks Alister left on her face.  That don’t fly.  Not here.  Not now.  Not ever.<br />
<br />
I hesitated to bring Garrett into the house but I know him.  He wouldn’t have listened and would’ve came with me anyway.  As we approach the darkened house, by my design of course, I use the key I still have to unlock the door and Garrett and I slip inside.  I said ‘my design’ because I had the boys at home pull some strings and stage a blackout in Scarsdale letting me waltz right in unnoticed and undetected by Alister’s cameras.  Once we’re inside, I give the signal to light it up and within seconds the lights come on in the house and all over the neighborhood.<br />
<br />
We wait in the study.  There’s no cameras in that room.  With the lights off in the study and the pocket doors slid shut, I can hear Alister moseying about upstairs.  The boards creak as he descends the stairs.  He slides the door open and steps inside and flicks on the light.  He turns around and is startled by my presence.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Thaddeus,”</font> he says with a shocked but subdued tone in that typical stoic Alister Henry kind of way.  <font color="red">”I wasn’t expecting you.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Of course you were,”</font> I reply.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Alister Henry,”</font> he says as he plays nice, extending his hand to Garrett.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Garrett Wentworth,”</font> he says, introducing himself.<br />
<br />
Sitting behind his desk, I’ll admit I feel a little more powerful.  It’s not the desk, it’s not the house, it’s the fact that Alister Henry is caught off his guard.  A man like him?  They’re never off their guard.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”I see you haven’t lost your touch for sneaking in unnoticed,”</font> he says as he takes a seat in the chair I used to sit in when we’d discuss business.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’d do you well Alister, to remember that.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Is that a threat?”</font> he asks, giving me his intimidating to most, but not to me, blank expressionless stare<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’ll be more than a threat if you come near Frankie again,”</font> I warn him.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Mmmm.”</font><br />
<br />
He grunts, but says nothing.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”You got something to say?”</font> I ask as it occurs to me that I went right for Frankie and not Liz.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Francis Robert Rickle is safe and he’ll remain that way so long as you do the right thing,”</font> Alister says, his shaky voice betraying his false bravado.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”What is the right thing in your learned opinion, Dear Grandfather?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”It’s simple,”</font> he says cracking a slight smile.  <font color="red">”Return to me, what <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">belongs</span> to me.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”People aren’t property, Alister.  She’s free to do what she wants.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Is she?”</font><br />
<br />
I say nothing.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Her last name is Henry.  She’s my wife and I want her here with me.”</font><br />
<br />
I stand from my chair, the blood coursing through my veins faster and faster.  He stands up too, probably thinking I’m about to hit him.<br />
<br />
I’m not.<br />
<br />
Yet.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I don’t like to flaunt my wealth and power, Alister, but if you keep up your shit, I will crumble your little criminal empire down on your head.<br />
<br />
“I will destroy you.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”You have bigger balls than you do brains coming here, Jaime.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I can vouch for the balls thing,”</font> Garrett chimes in.  His eyes light up as if he didn’t mean to say it.  I laugh… on the inside.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Thaddeus,”</font> I remind him, realizing he called me Jaime just to get under my skin.  It worked.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Do you know how easy it is for me to make one call and take something away from you?”</font> he asks rhetorically.  <font color="red">”One call, Thaddeus, and that’s all it takes.  And your father disappears.  Or your uncle.  Your chief of staff.<br />
<br />
“Liz.<br />
<br />
“Francis.<br />
<br />
“Or even Garrett here.”</font><br />
<br />
Incensed with rage, I grab him by his throat with one hand and pull my pistol from the back of my waistband.  Throttling him backwards, he stumbles to the floor with me on top of him, the barrel squarely in the middle of his forehead.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”THAD!”</font> Garrett shouts and he lunges for me, grabbing my arm.  Quickly, I pull back the hammer, stopping him from struggling with me.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Threaten my people again, and I’ll bury you Alister.  I don’t care if I share your blood.  I will put a bullet in your skull.  I promise you, no one will find the body.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Thad!  Come on man!”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Because we are in fact blood, Alister, is the only reason I’m not killing you for what you did to Liz.”</font><br />
<br />
He struggles to breathe from my grip on his throat.  I squeeze tighter and tighter, wanting to choke the very last breath out of him.  Finally, I relent and ease my grip on his throat enough that he could breathe again.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Where was this version of you when you met Keith Rickle?”</font> he asks, referring to Frankie’s father.  <font color="red">”If he had shown up, Francis would still have a mother.”</font><br />
<br />
In a fit of rage, I smash my pistol into his skull once.  Then a second, just because it felt good to do it.  Blood trickles from his forehead and he’s out cold.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I thought you were really gonna pull the trigger!”</font> Garrett says with a sigh of relief.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Relax man,”</font> I say as I pull the trigger.  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">CLICK!</span>  I reach into the pocket of my jeans and retrieve a handful of bullets.  <font color="gold">”It wasn’t even loaded.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You son of a...”</font><br />
<br />
I place a bullet standing upright on his desk, carved into the casing is the name Alister.  I notice his safe is still open.  Old man is slipping.  Reaching in, I retrieve the Frankie file and fold it, slipping it into my back pocket.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”We’re done here, let’s go.”</font><br />
<br />
After we make our way back to the car, I look inside the folder and laugh.  Not because I think its funny or anything, just over the absurdity of it all.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”What’s so funny?”</font><br />
<br />
Laying the folder in his lap, I start the car and pull onto the road.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Nice try, Thaddeus,”</font> Garrett says aloud, reading what’s in the file.  It was just a stack of blank pages with nice try Thaddeus hand written on the top.<br />
<br />
I really might have to kill this mother fucker.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100%; height: 4px; color: gold; background-color: gold;" />
<br />
<font color="gold">Page, I just want to start off by sayin’…  You are as clueless as you are gutless.  Not only am I not single, which you’d know if you were as smart as you claim you are, even if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t even crack the top 100 of people I’d like to fuck.  Do yourself a favor and gets yourself a Thaddeus Duke encyclopedia.  Recent chapters include such things as: taking in a foster child with my girlfriend by my side.  Not to mention, that one where I sing to her in a bar because, you know, kids got game.  And I’d be remiss if I failed to mention the time she took off my mask, I resumed being the real me and then I fucked her on her husbands couch, but here we are.<br />
<br />
I’m Thaddeus Duke.<br />
<br />
I’m better than you.<br />
<br />
And you’re still a fucking idiot coward.<br />
<br />
How can you be in this business as long as you have and still be so fucking insanely stupid?<br />
<br />
Here’s the story.  The real story.  Not only do I not have a crush on dudes old enough to be my grandfather, the truth of the matter is that this is simply all about me, because it always is.  See, as you might have noticed I have been on this path of redemption since the calendar switched over to September and while I’m fine with Robbie Bourbon having his two well earned, hard fought victories over me, Chris Page having a ‘W’ over me just makes me want to vomit in my mouth.  Why?  Because no matter the spin, the honest to dog, yes dog, truth is that it was <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">me</span> that beat me on Savage.  Not Chris Page.  Yes, the history books, which apparently Chris Page is afraid of those too, will always show a ‘W’ next to him and an ‘L’ next to me, the fact is that it was my cockiness that allowed you to do what you did at Savage.<br />
<br />
Handcuffs have a better claim to victory than you do.<br />
<br />
Handcuffs man.<br />
<br />
I said this is about me.  It’s always about me.  Why does beating Chris Page make me tick?  The answer is complex, yet simple.  So simple that even Chris can understand it.  And if he doesn’t, then fuck him who cares?  Beating Chris Page is at the forefront of my focus at this time because he’s gone up and down the road for weeks claiming that him beating me was like this fucking no brainer what else did you think would happen kind of scenario and that just pisses me off.  It pisses me off because handcuffing a guy to a ring rope and climbing a ladder to win a match proves absolutely fucking nothing.<br />
<br />
He denied my challenge, not because his ‘plate was full’ like he claimed.  He forgets while even saying that Theo Pryce is my uncle, that THEO PRYCE IS MY UNCLE!  His Relentless plate was never full and I knew it because… again… THEO! PRYCE! IS! MY UNCLE!<br />
<br />
He denied my challenge because he knows he got fuckin’ lucky and he knows he wasn’t exactly down to beat the Lionheart square.  What better way to make sure his narrative stays true, that he’s better than I am, than to NOT give me what the world desires: me kicking his ass all over Santa Monica?<br />
<br />
He denied me because he fears the truth.  The truth is, that he’s not better than me and he found that out on Savage.  He fears what’s going to happen and its not because I’m some big tough guy that’s gonna beat him up.  He fears what’s going to happen because I am exactly what I always said I am and I’m not talking about the fucking catchphrase.  I’m simply talking about the fact that any match I am in is five fucking stars in PWI because it’s what I fucking do better than anyone else.<br />
<br />
He may spin and allude to him “forcing” this to happen, it’s simply untrue.  He never had any intent of facing me because we both know who the better man is and he had no interest in letting me prove it to the fucking world.<br />
<br />
It’s not about titles.  I don’t give two shits whether I have gold around my waist or not because simply being who I am and doing what I’m capable of is gold enough.  I do not need leather straps with gold plated medallions to validate my worthiness as gods fucking gift to a wrestling ring.<br />
<br />
This is simply about respect, and taking back the victory he never should have had.<br />
<br />
Chris Page can not beat Thaddeus Duke.  He can talk down to me like I’m an insolent child, he can make this about my sexuality, he can say whatever he wants but the truth has been written on his face since this began at Leap of Faith: Thaddeus Duke is better than Chris Page and I’m going to prove it at Relentless.</font></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<span style="font-family: Tahoma;" class="mycode_font"><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" /><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="gold">John Adams Academy || New Haven, Connecticut</font></div><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" />
<br />
<br />
I’m struck with a feelings of relief and of dread.  Liz walks into the IT room with big, dark sunglasses covering her eyes.  It wasn’t enough.  I can see the bruising under both eyes and her lip is cracked.  I’m filled with fear that she was in an accident.  I have this overwhelming dilemma raging within me that I don’t want to let go of Garrett because I missed him so much but at the same time, something happened to my lady.<br />
<br />
What a fucking day.<br />
<br />
On top of all of this, she walks in as Garrett is crying into my shoulder.  Obviously its entirely innocent, but I never <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">feel</span> innocent.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Oh my God what the fuck happened?”</font> I ask her as I let go of Garrett and head to her.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Did you wreck?”</font> Frankie asks with a worried expression as he leaves his chair and runs to her with a hug.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”No honey, I’m okay.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Babe what the hell happened?”</font> I reiterate.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Not now,”</font> she says, her voice shaky.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Can you please do me a favor?”</font> I ask of Garrett.  <font color="gold">”Take a walk with Frankie,”</font> I say as I retrieve a ten dollar bill from my wallet.  <font color="gold">”Grab us all something to drink.”</font><br />
<br />
Once they’re gone, I close the door.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Tell me,”</font> I insist as I kiss her forehead and hold her against my chest.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Don’t say anything, just listen,”</font> she says as she sits down.  I nod, confirming for her that I’ll shut up.  As difficult as that may be.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Alister wasn’t even there when I got there,”</font> she begins.  <font color="pink">”So I started trying to be quick and be in and out before he even got back.  I grabbed a couple of trash bags from the pantry and was about to go upstairs when curiosity got the better of me.<br />
<br />
“I know he has files on just about everyone in his life from his maids, employees, me… so I started thinking ‘does he have one on Thaddeus Duke’?  I went into his study and his safe wasn’t even locked.  That should have been a dead giveaway.<br />
<br />
“He has files on you, on your dad and your uncle.  He has files on fucking Frankie for hells sake.”</font><br />
<br />
Rage burns within me but I contain it for now.  Files on my dad or me, yeah whatever.  Files on Frankie?  A child?  A school age boy?  Are you fucking kidding me?<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”That’s when he came home, as I was looking at Frankie’s file.  It had his birth date, his social security number, his mothers death certificate.”</font>  She lets out a sigh.  <font color="pink">”The school we just registered him at.”</font><br />
<br />
Oh hell no.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I will kill that mother fucker!”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Baby, you promised,”</font> she reminds me.<br />
<br />
Well, OBVIOUSLY I’m going to stand up for Frankie!  <font color="gold">”Go on, I’m sorry.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”He walked in and I was sitting at his desk looking at Frankie’s file and I don’t know.  I’m not his mother but, instincts took over and I confronted him about it.  He said it was nothing, just keeping tabs on his property.<br />
<br />
“He meant me of course, but I pushed him further.  I wanted to know why he wanted information on him.  He said to hurt you if he felt the need.”</font><br />
<br />
Oh I will kill him.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”So in a burst of anger, you know that meteorite paper weight he has?  Well, I picked it up and chucked it at his head.  It only grazed him but he came after me.  I didn’t back down from him and what you see is the result.<br />
<br />
“He busted my phone over my head and threatened to slowly take away everything you loved, Thaddeus.”</font><br />
<br />
I sit in a silent rage.  My blood boils inside and I don’t know how to let it out.  I look over and Garrett and Frankie are standing in the now opened doorway.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”How long have you been standing there?”</font> I ask him through grit teeth, trying so hard to not let out my anger.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”...Since the paper weight,”</font> Garrett answers sheepishly as he hands me a Dr. Pepper.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Liz I got you a Diet Coke like you like!”</font> Frankie says excitedly, entirely and thankfully oblivious to exactly what’s going on.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Aww thank you baby boy, you’re so sweet!”</font> she says, feigning excitement.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I’ll have Jim drive you two home,”</font> I say to her.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”What about you?”</font> asks Frankie.  I can feel his disappointment.  We were supposed to play some video games after the ceremony.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I have to drive to New York for something Frankie.  I’ll be a few hours but I promise, when I get home, we’ll play after dinner.  Okay?”</font><br />
<br />
Liz is cold staring me and I only just now realized it.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’ll be fine,”</font> I say to her very unconvincingly.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I’ll keep him cool,”</font> Garrett says, making me wonder just how much he actually heard.  But I guess it’s a party.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”See, Garrett will keep me cool,”</font> its this moment that I don’t think she’s that comfortable with Garrett around.  I don’t blame her for it.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”You don’t need to go there, you’ll just make it worse,”</font> she says.  And before I can reply she continues.  <font color="pink">”And now you’re gonna drag Garrett into it.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Whatever he is to you,”</font> Garrett interrupts, feeling the sting from her not wanting him there.  <font color="green">”He’s still my friend.  I’ve lost him once before, Elizabeth.  I’m not ready to do that again.”</font><br />
<br />
I grab her hand, and his.  After kissing both hands simultaneously, she walks off with Frankie.  I anticipated incorrectly.  She definitely rolled her eyes as she turned around.  Hindsight being what it is, I’m not sure why I thought that was a good idea.  It certainly wasn’t and now I’ve landed myself in a world of trouble.  Two people that I love passionately are seriously ready to claw at each others eyes.  It isn’t what I intended.  It’s not what I wanted.  To be entirely clear, I’m not so sure even I know what I want.<br />
<br />
If only I could have both…<br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
Two hours later, I roll my car to a stop a block way from the Henry Mansion.  The drive was an interesting one.  Garrett and I talked a good bit about some things.  Reminisced some.  Spoke at great length about Curtis and how much he is missed and how we thought his commencement address would have filled the place with laughter.<br />
<br />
If I said there was no longer a connection when I grabbed his hand earlier I’d be lying.  I feel the same spark when I touch Liz.  I don’t know how I find myself in these predicaments but here we are.  How does one cope with loving two people simultaneously the same way?  The short answer, the easy answer is to let one of them go.  But what if I can’t?  What if I don’t want to?  Then what?  I mean, it’s selfish right?  Not wanting to let go of one so they can move on with their lives and find a new source of happiness?<br />
<br />
My thoughts quickly switch to Liz and the marks Alister left on her face.  That don’t fly.  Not here.  Not now.  Not ever.<br />
<br />
I hesitated to bring Garrett into the house but I know him.  He wouldn’t have listened and would’ve came with me anyway.  As we approach the darkened house, by my design of course, I use the key I still have to unlock the door and Garrett and I slip inside.  I said ‘my design’ because I had the boys at home pull some strings and stage a blackout in Scarsdale letting me waltz right in unnoticed and undetected by Alister’s cameras.  Once we’re inside, I give the signal to light it up and within seconds the lights come on in the house and all over the neighborhood.<br />
<br />
We wait in the study.  There’s no cameras in that room.  With the lights off in the study and the pocket doors slid shut, I can hear Alister moseying about upstairs.  The boards creak as he descends the stairs.  He slides the door open and steps inside and flicks on the light.  He turns around and is startled by my presence.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Thaddeus,”</font> he says with a shocked but subdued tone in that typical stoic Alister Henry kind of way.  <font color="red">”I wasn’t expecting you.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Of course you were,”</font> I reply.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Alister Henry,”</font> he says as he plays nice, extending his hand to Garrett.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Garrett Wentworth,”</font> he says, introducing himself.<br />
<br />
Sitting behind his desk, I’ll admit I feel a little more powerful.  It’s not the desk, it’s not the house, it’s the fact that Alister Henry is caught off his guard.  A man like him?  They’re never off their guard.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”I see you haven’t lost your touch for sneaking in unnoticed,”</font> he says as he takes a seat in the chair I used to sit in when we’d discuss business.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’d do you well Alister, to remember that.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Is that a threat?”</font> he asks, giving me his intimidating to most, but not to me, blank expressionless stare<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’ll be more than a threat if you come near Frankie again,”</font> I warn him.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Mmmm.”</font><br />
<br />
He grunts, but says nothing.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”You got something to say?”</font> I ask as it occurs to me that I went right for Frankie and not Liz.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Francis Robert Rickle is safe and he’ll remain that way so long as you do the right thing,”</font> Alister says, his shaky voice betraying his false bravado.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”What is the right thing in your learned opinion, Dear Grandfather?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”It’s simple,”</font> he says cracking a slight smile.  <font color="red">”Return to me, what <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">belongs</span> to me.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”People aren’t property, Alister.  She’s free to do what she wants.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Is she?”</font><br />
<br />
I say nothing.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Her last name is Henry.  She’s my wife and I want her here with me.”</font><br />
<br />
I stand from my chair, the blood coursing through my veins faster and faster.  He stands up too, probably thinking I’m about to hit him.<br />
<br />
I’m not.<br />
<br />
Yet.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I don’t like to flaunt my wealth and power, Alister, but if you keep up your shit, I will crumble your little criminal empire down on your head.<br />
<br />
“I will destroy you.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="red">”You have bigger balls than you do brains coming here, Jaime.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I can vouch for the balls thing,”</font> Garrett chimes in.  His eyes light up as if he didn’t mean to say it.  I laugh… on the inside.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Thaddeus,”</font> I remind him, realizing he called me Jaime just to get under my skin.  It worked.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Do you know how easy it is for me to make one call and take something away from you?”</font> he asks rhetorically.  <font color="red">”One call, Thaddeus, and that’s all it takes.  And your father disappears.  Or your uncle.  Your chief of staff.<br />
<br />
“Liz.<br />
<br />
“Francis.<br />
<br />
“Or even Garrett here.”</font><br />
<br />
Incensed with rage, I grab him by his throat with one hand and pull my pistol from the back of my waistband.  Throttling him backwards, he stumbles to the floor with me on top of him, the barrel squarely in the middle of his forehead.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”THAD!”</font> Garrett shouts and he lunges for me, grabbing my arm.  Quickly, I pull back the hammer, stopping him from struggling with me.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Threaten my people again, and I’ll bury you Alister.  I don’t care if I share your blood.  I will put a bullet in your skull.  I promise you, no one will find the body.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Thad!  Come on man!”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Because we are in fact blood, Alister, is the only reason I’m not killing you for what you did to Liz.”</font><br />
<br />
He struggles to breathe from my grip on his throat.  I squeeze tighter and tighter, wanting to choke the very last breath out of him.  Finally, I relent and ease my grip on his throat enough that he could breathe again.<br />
<br />
<font color="red">”Where was this version of you when you met Keith Rickle?”</font> he asks, referring to Frankie’s father.  <font color="red">”If he had shown up, Francis would still have a mother.”</font><br />
<br />
In a fit of rage, I smash my pistol into his skull once.  Then a second, just because it felt good to do it.  Blood trickles from his forehead and he’s out cold.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I thought you were really gonna pull the trigger!”</font> Garrett says with a sigh of relief.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Relax man,”</font> I say as I pull the trigger.  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">CLICK!</span>  I reach into the pocket of my jeans and retrieve a handful of bullets.  <font color="gold">”It wasn’t even loaded.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You son of a...”</font><br />
<br />
I place a bullet standing upright on his desk, carved into the casing is the name Alister.  I notice his safe is still open.  Old man is slipping.  Reaching in, I retrieve the Frankie file and fold it, slipping it into my back pocket.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”We’re done here, let’s go.”</font><br />
<br />
After we make our way back to the car, I look inside the folder and laugh.  Not because I think its funny or anything, just over the absurdity of it all.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”What’s so funny?”</font><br />
<br />
Laying the folder in his lap, I start the car and pull onto the road.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Nice try, Thaddeus,”</font> Garrett says aloud, reading what’s in the file.  It was just a stack of blank pages with nice try Thaddeus hand written on the top.<br />
<br />
I really might have to kill this mother fucker.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100%; height: 4px; color: gold; background-color: gold;" />
<br />
<font color="gold">Page, I just want to start off by sayin’…  You are as clueless as you are gutless.  Not only am I not single, which you’d know if you were as smart as you claim you are, even if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t even crack the top 100 of people I’d like to fuck.  Do yourself a favor and gets yourself a Thaddeus Duke encyclopedia.  Recent chapters include such things as: taking in a foster child with my girlfriend by my side.  Not to mention, that one where I sing to her in a bar because, you know, kids got game.  And I’d be remiss if I failed to mention the time she took off my mask, I resumed being the real me and then I fucked her on her husbands couch, but here we are.<br />
<br />
I’m Thaddeus Duke.<br />
<br />
I’m better than you.<br />
<br />
And you’re still a fucking idiot coward.<br />
<br />
How can you be in this business as long as you have and still be so fucking insanely stupid?<br />
<br />
Here’s the story.  The real story.  Not only do I not have a crush on dudes old enough to be my grandfather, the truth of the matter is that this is simply all about me, because it always is.  See, as you might have noticed I have been on this path of redemption since the calendar switched over to September and while I’m fine with Robbie Bourbon having his two well earned, hard fought victories over me, Chris Page having a ‘W’ over me just makes me want to vomit in my mouth.  Why?  Because no matter the spin, the honest to dog, yes dog, truth is that it was <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">me</span> that beat me on Savage.  Not Chris Page.  Yes, the history books, which apparently Chris Page is afraid of those too, will always show a ‘W’ next to him and an ‘L’ next to me, the fact is that it was my cockiness that allowed you to do what you did at Savage.<br />
<br />
Handcuffs have a better claim to victory than you do.<br />
<br />
Handcuffs man.<br />
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I said this is about me.  It’s always about me.  Why does beating Chris Page make me tick?  The answer is complex, yet simple.  So simple that even Chris can understand it.  And if he doesn’t, then fuck him who cares?  Beating Chris Page is at the forefront of my focus at this time because he’s gone up and down the road for weeks claiming that him beating me was like this fucking no brainer what else did you think would happen kind of scenario and that just pisses me off.  It pisses me off because handcuffing a guy to a ring rope and climbing a ladder to win a match proves absolutely fucking nothing.<br />
<br />
He denied my challenge, not because his ‘plate was full’ like he claimed.  He forgets while even saying that Theo Pryce is my uncle, that THEO PRYCE IS MY UNCLE!  His Relentless plate was never full and I knew it because… again… THEO! PRYCE! IS! MY UNCLE!<br />
<br />
He denied my challenge because he knows he got fuckin’ lucky and he knows he wasn’t exactly down to beat the Lionheart square.  What better way to make sure his narrative stays true, that he’s better than I am, than to NOT give me what the world desires: me kicking his ass all over Santa Monica?<br />
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He denied me because he fears the truth.  The truth is, that he’s not better than me and he found that out on Savage.  He fears what’s going to happen and its not because I’m some big tough guy that’s gonna beat him up.  He fears what’s going to happen because I am exactly what I always said I am and I’m not talking about the fucking catchphrase.  I’m simply talking about the fact that any match I am in is five fucking stars in PWI because it’s what I fucking do better than anyone else.<br />
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He may spin and allude to him “forcing” this to happen, it’s simply untrue.  He never had any intent of facing me because we both know who the better man is and he had no interest in letting me prove it to the fucking world.<br />
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It’s not about titles.  I don’t give two shits whether I have gold around my waist or not because simply being who I am and doing what I’m capable of is gold enough.  I do not need leather straps with gold plated medallions to validate my worthiness as gods fucking gift to a wrestling ring.<br />
<br />
This is simply about respect, and taking back the victory he never should have had.<br />
<br />
Chris Page can not beat Thaddeus Duke.  He can talk down to me like I’m an insolent child, he can make this about my sexuality, he can say whatever he wants but the truth has been written on his face since this began at Leap of Faith: Thaddeus Duke is better than Chris Page and I’m going to prove it at Relentless.</font></span>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[Chapter 7: The Interview]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38250</link>
			<pubDate>Sat, 19 Sep 2020 17:53:11 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2296">Chris Page</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38250</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Chapter 7: The Interview<br />
Previously Recorded:</font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<font color="white">” Relentless is on the horizons; how does it feel to know you’re playing a huge part throughout the entire weekend?”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">A shot of Chris Page sitting in front of a Relentless 2020 poster…</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/ygPfM5T.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: ygPfM5T.png]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Resting on the left shoulder is the Television Championship while resting on the right shoulder is the Tag Championship.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” What do you mean how does it feel? Life is exactly how it is supposed to be and I am poised to do what very few people can do; having two separate matches and both of them just a little bit different.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” Don’t you mean three? You’ve got Thaddeus night one, Tag Titles on Night Two, and Thunder Knuckles on night three.”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Oh I won’t be defending the tag titles…”</font>  <br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris shifts his gaze directly into the camera as he softly and methodically states...</span><br />
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<font color="green">” “He” will.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris quickly snaps out of it as he continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” But let’s not talk about that, let’s talk about the first stop on this weekend tour and that being the very naïve chaser that is Thaddeus Duke.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The voice from off-camera then asks.</span><br />
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<font color="white">” Well let’s talk about it as the two of you have a very interesting rivalry to the point it will close out Night One as the Main Event at the Santa Monica Pier…”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” I wouldn’t call it interesting as much as I would some little punk chasing after some daddy dick that he isn’t ever going to get! Thad’s had some sick obsession with me after being beaten by me to lift MY rightful Television Championship. It’s crazy to me how some people just can’t see when they’ve been beaten to every punch.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” Wait, so you think Thaddeus has a crush on you?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Not only am I saying that I’m also saying that he handles rejection poorly; no wonder he’s single.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” You can’t deny that you’ve both been very entertaining over the last five or six weeks leading to this encounter. It’s a rematch that a lot of people are talking about and they’re saying that Thaddeus might pull off the upset.”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” And you said it correctly, upset. Thaddeus prides himself on the labeling that he’s “better than you” but he can’t say that about me, I mean he will because he’s a complete and utter fool, but the Television Title says otherwise.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris glances down at the TV title with a smirk on his face before shifting his attention back towards the camera.</span><br />
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<font color="white">” What would you say to those who say avoiding his challenge for so many weeks made you look weak, or even scared?”</font><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1MuvNudeU5s?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<font color="green">” Whatever.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” That’s seriously all you have to say?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Thad’s a shitty father? Listen if I dignified every insane conspiracy theory we’d be talking for the next twelve months, and with all due respect I don’t live you enough to give you the face time you’re getting with me right not if we’re being honest.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris is relaxed and chill as he continues.</span><br />
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[green}” I’ve been clear on why I refused his rematch request, unlike Mr. Duke I’m in high demand…”[/green]<br />
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<font color="white">” I don’t mean to cut you off but why deny the challenge only to accept it on the final Savage before the event?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Well rude fuck, at some point when someone is so hard-headed like Thaddeus to show up on my show and proceed to superkick me in the jaw, wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back; it’s was the final nail being driven into his coffin, see I tried to be nice and I tried to let him just ride off into the sunset but when you have prideful bastards like Duke he’s not going to be smart about… as his recent actions have indicated.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris adjusts the belts on his shoulders.</span><br />
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<font color="white">” You’ve prided yourself on being quite the Professional Wrestler as does Thaddeus, and with this being a pure wrestling rules match who will this favor?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” That’s a no brainer… me, on sheer experience alone. If you go back and look at how I handcuffed him to the ropes to secure MY Television Championship it was the experience of being in that similar situation a thousand times before. He hasn’t seen my best yet, and that’s what’s fucked up when you think of the position Thad finds himself in.”<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Quick and brief pause from Chris as he then states.</span><br />
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[green]” Here’s another perspective that nobody has even thought about… What if this has played exactly how I wanted it to play? What if I knew turning Thaddeus down would send him on this downward spiral and has led to him wanting me even more than he thought? What if this has been one big mind game leading a perfectly laid plan? I’ve made no mistake about it I’ll take a shot or two if it gets me to my endgame. Originally this started because he’s Theo nephew and it would have been fun beating around a Pryce relative, now this has become about nothing more than putting Thad out to pasture.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” Are you saying you’ve lead Thaddeus down this road?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” I’m not saying that’s the case or not the case… I’m merely suggesting “what if”? I suppose the only real way to find out the answer to that question is to tune into Relentless Night One for yourself and find out. There’s nothing about this encounter that scares nor intimidates me. I know exactly what I’m capable of and just how fucking great I am, and I also know it’s my opponent's job to try and discredit anything they can about me to further make themselves feel superior… only when the talk stops and the actions begin they end up looking up at the lights, or handcuffed to ropes and end up on the ass end of a defeat. It’s a rare day in age when I’m beaten in the middle of that squared circles; count all my losses and they’ve been against Universal Champions and not against scrubs on the level of Thaddeus Duke! I’m not coming to Relentless to fuck around; I’m coming Night One for one sole purpose and one soul reason…”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris once again shifts his attention directed towards the camera.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Victory.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Silencing the critic of Thaddeus Duke once and for all while putting him on notice that within the pecking order of XWF superstars he ranks beneath me in every aspect of the word. He’s not going to have an excuse, he’s not going to have that proverbial “out” for this failure, he’s got himself to thank for his lack of talent and lack of ability to stand in the center of that ring and go toe to toe, blow for blow, move for a move or hold for hold with me. He’s going to be outmatched, outclassed, and simply outdone by one of the best technicians this sport has ever seen. The time for talk has come to an end, time for action is now because the road that got here doesn’t mean a fucking thing! It’s what happens when that bell rings on Santa Monica Pier when it comes to Thaddeus… but when it rings, it’s going to be too late for I already have him eating out of the palm of my hand like a good little boy.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Once again Chris intently gazes into the camera as he state.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” I’ll see you soon.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">We fade to black.</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Words from the Stoned One:<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/O0M5D5OA-d4?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<font color="green">” With Relentless growing ever so closer it didn’t hit me until right now exactly why Thad has a hard-on for me as he does. Dude wants my nuts.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene fades in as we get a shot a the faceplates of the XWF Television Championship to the right and his Tag Title on the left with Chris sitting between them.</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2d/62/0b/2d620b00611d74f859ce4f660f2dbb18.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 2d620b00611d74f859ce4f660f2dbb18.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<font color="green">” Before any scoffs at that very real statement let’s take a look at our history. First, Thad lifts the TV Title from Thunder Cunt, a title I had in my possession because I was and am the rightful Champion, I show up on Savage; outsmart the millennial via handcuffing him to the ropes, climb the Ladder and win the very match HE selected while officially taking my rightful spot as THE man on Saturday Night’s.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a brief pause from the duel champion.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Young Thaddeus couldn’t deal with being bested by a better performer, or so I thought. He continued to calling my name and interjecting himself into my business at all times and couldn’t take no for an answer; such as a lover scorned. What is your infatuation with me, Thad? Are you one of those dudes that don’t take no for an answer? Makes sense you’d want a Pure Wrestling Rules to match with me, easier for you to get closer to me. While I’m truly flattered that you’ve decided to step away from the twinks and navigate towards daddies ... cock just isn’t my thing.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Sheer sarcasm is the tone in which Chris speaks as he continues.[/green]<br />
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<font color="green">” I don’t give a flying fuck about your proclivities in homosexuality, but please for the love of God don’t just take no for an answer as it makes your look pathetic and weak. I am giving you want with this rematch that serves no real purpose because the outcome is going to be the same… with my arm raised in victory upon the Santa Monica Pier and you being humbled and embarrassed again.”</font>  [i]Chris leans back in his seat as he stares directly into the camera as he states.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” At what point do you sit back and wave that white flag while admitting that while you’re a good professional athlete you’re not great, at what point do you just shut the fuck up and realize that mediocre is your style and just accept it. You try so hard to connect to the crowd or people in general when in actuality those same people you suck up to wouldn’t piss on your teeth if your gums were on fire.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris reaches behind the TV title before putting a joint between his lips and sparking up.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” You needed me to tap you into your inner mean streak and while you battle amongst yourself if you’re going to cave into the dark side or if you’re going to continue the status quo being labeled subpar. I did my job and now it’s time for me to move on to other things for keeping you relevant isn’t the cards when I put you down and unequivocally establish beyond any reasonable doubt that within this story you’ll always be my bitch, bitch.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris takes a nice deep toke off his joint as deeply inhales. He blows out the smoke as he leans back in his chair with his hardware to his left and right.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Because only a bitch would appear in a Thunder Knuckles promo and proclaiming Thunder Knuckles being superior to me based on a fact that you beat him and I couldn’t? Mother Fucker I beat you! You beat him! So what’s that make me? Are you fucking kidding me with this juvenile logic? Did you even watch the match with Thunder Knuckles? Had you done your homework you wouldn’t look like a second rate cookie-cutter professional wrestler. This is further proof just how far some people will go to say something that sounds good in their heads but isn’t well thought out..”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris takes another pull from the joint as inhales before exhaling the smoke.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” This is getting as tiresome as the excuse of you beating yourself when you lost the TV Title, yet again trivializing down the fact that YOU selected a match that saw no rules and I was the guy that took your box you tried to confine me in and thought outside of it. It’s pitiful that in a match YOU selected that saw NO RULES I handcuffed you to the ropes and I climbed that Ladder and snatched down MY title. No, Thad, you didn’t beat yourself… you got beaten by someone BETTER THAN YOU.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris winks at the camera.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” You can continue to preach on until you’re red in the goddamn face about my reasons for refusing your challenge, clearly you don’t pay attention and I’m not going to rehash it time after time again… what I will say is that it doesn’t have jack shit to do with your skillset; or lack thereof…  but hey man, whatever you need to tell yourself to make yourself sound cool works for me. You don’t have to worry about what kind of game I’m bringing to Relentless because my F game is better than you’re a plus game any day of the fucking week. This little man-crush you’ve got on me comes to an end at Relentless; it needs to just come and go now so I can move the fuck on for the word bored doesn’t begin to describe with how I feel about having to continue wasting my time with these half-hearted jabs that you think cut deep wounds but in the real world where I live they don’t even scratch my surface.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris takes another toke on the joint, inhaling deeply as he states.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” The biggest difference between the two of us rests with I don’t have to walk around and tell myself I am better than anyone; I do it in your case because it’s true, however, in the case of anyone else my actions inside that ring establish that fact for me. In your case, you have this inferior complex that you’ve yet to shed regardless of the facts and regardless of the truth. The thing is we both have two different visions of how or why we’re here and now that we are you’re going to face the consequences for biting off more than you can fucking chew; and while your undying affection and underlying monotones are appreciated they’re not wanted. Keep that shit up and I’ll have a sexual harassment case to slap on the XWF and I’ll make even more money off your fucking foolishness.”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris smirks as he continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” This is your last chance to show the world what you’re capable of against someone as decorated as I am. You can continue to stalk me on twitter or whatever you feel you need to do moving forward after you suffer this impending failure. You’ve talked yourself up like you’ve always done… and you’re going to fail to deliver like you’ve grown accustomed too. Eventually what you’ll learn from all of this is how to deal with loss after loss after loss when you try to box with God… The way this is going I’m going to be out to the ring and back to the dressing room without breaking a sweat while leaving you in the rearview mirror as the rest of my weekend will play out.to perfection just as it begins at your expense.”</font>   <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The smirk suddenly disappears from Chris’s face as he stares blankly into the camera before he softly states.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Unless you want “him” to show up.”</font>   <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The intense gaze into the camera continues as the same soft, methodical tone continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” “He” would love to play.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene suddenly goes dark.</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/tze1Pl9.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: tze1Pl9.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene fades to black.</span><br />
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</div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Chapter 7: The Interview<br />
Previously Recorded:</font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="white">” Relentless is on the horizons; how does it feel to know you’re playing a huge part throughout the entire weekend?”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">A shot of Chris Page sitting in front of a Relentless 2020 poster…</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/ygPfM5T.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: ygPfM5T.png]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Resting on the left shoulder is the Television Championship while resting on the right shoulder is the Tag Championship.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” What do you mean how does it feel? Life is exactly how it is supposed to be and I am poised to do what very few people can do; having two separate matches and both of them just a little bit different.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” Don’t you mean three? You’ve got Thaddeus night one, Tag Titles on Night Two, and Thunder Knuckles on night three.”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Oh I won’t be defending the tag titles…”</font>  <br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris shifts his gaze directly into the camera as he softly and methodically states...</span><br />
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<font color="green">” “He” will.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris quickly snaps out of it as he continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” But let’s not talk about that, let’s talk about the first stop on this weekend tour and that being the very naïve chaser that is Thaddeus Duke.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The voice from off-camera then asks.</span><br />
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<font color="white">” Well let’s talk about it as the two of you have a very interesting rivalry to the point it will close out Night One as the Main Event at the Santa Monica Pier…”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” I wouldn’t call it interesting as much as I would some little punk chasing after some daddy dick that he isn’t ever going to get! Thad’s had some sick obsession with me after being beaten by me to lift MY rightful Television Championship. It’s crazy to me how some people just can’t see when they’ve been beaten to every punch.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” Wait, so you think Thaddeus has a crush on you?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Not only am I saying that I’m also saying that he handles rejection poorly; no wonder he’s single.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” You can’t deny that you’ve both been very entertaining over the last five or six weeks leading to this encounter. It’s a rematch that a lot of people are talking about and they’re saying that Thaddeus might pull off the upset.”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” And you said it correctly, upset. Thaddeus prides himself on the labeling that he’s “better than you” but he can’t say that about me, I mean he will because he’s a complete and utter fool, but the Television Title says otherwise.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris glances down at the TV title with a smirk on his face before shifting his attention back towards the camera.</span><br />
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<font color="white">” What would you say to those who say avoiding his challenge for so many weeks made you look weak, or even scared?”</font><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1MuvNudeU5s?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<font color="green">” Whatever.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” That’s seriously all you have to say?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Thad’s a shitty father? Listen if I dignified every insane conspiracy theory we’d be talking for the next twelve months, and with all due respect I don’t live you enough to give you the face time you’re getting with me right not if we’re being honest.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris is relaxed and chill as he continues.</span><br />
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[green}” I’ve been clear on why I refused his rematch request, unlike Mr. Duke I’m in high demand…”[/green]<br />
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<font color="white">” I don’t mean to cut you off but why deny the challenge only to accept it on the final Savage before the event?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” Well rude fuck, at some point when someone is so hard-headed like Thaddeus to show up on my show and proceed to superkick me in the jaw, wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back; it’s was the final nail being driven into his coffin, see I tried to be nice and I tried to let him just ride off into the sunset but when you have prideful bastards like Duke he’s not going to be smart about… as his recent actions have indicated.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris adjusts the belts on his shoulders.</span><br />
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<font color="white">” You’ve prided yourself on being quite the Professional Wrestler as does Thaddeus, and with this being a pure wrestling rules match who will this favor?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” That’s a no brainer… me, on sheer experience alone. If you go back and look at how I handcuffed him to the ropes to secure MY Television Championship it was the experience of being in that similar situation a thousand times before. He hasn’t seen my best yet, and that’s what’s fucked up when you think of the position Thad finds himself in.”<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Quick and brief pause from Chris as he then states.</span><br />
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[green]” Here’s another perspective that nobody has even thought about… What if this has played exactly how I wanted it to play? What if I knew turning Thaddeus down would send him on this downward spiral and has led to him wanting me even more than he thought? What if this has been one big mind game leading a perfectly laid plan? I’ve made no mistake about it I’ll take a shot or two if it gets me to my endgame. Originally this started because he’s Theo nephew and it would have been fun beating around a Pryce relative, now this has become about nothing more than putting Thad out to pasture.”</font><br />
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<font color="white">” Are you saying you’ve lead Thaddeus down this road?”</font><br />
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<font color="green">” I’m not saying that’s the case or not the case… I’m merely suggesting “what if”? I suppose the only real way to find out the answer to that question is to tune into Relentless Night One for yourself and find out. There’s nothing about this encounter that scares nor intimidates me. I know exactly what I’m capable of and just how fucking great I am, and I also know it’s my opponent's job to try and discredit anything they can about me to further make themselves feel superior… only when the talk stops and the actions begin they end up looking up at the lights, or handcuffed to ropes and end up on the ass end of a defeat. It’s a rare day in age when I’m beaten in the middle of that squared circles; count all my losses and they’ve been against Universal Champions and not against scrubs on the level of Thaddeus Duke! I’m not coming to Relentless to fuck around; I’m coming Night One for one sole purpose and one soul reason…”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris once again shifts his attention directed towards the camera.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Victory.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Silencing the critic of Thaddeus Duke once and for all while putting him on notice that within the pecking order of XWF superstars he ranks beneath me in every aspect of the word. He’s not going to have an excuse, he’s not going to have that proverbial “out” for this failure, he’s got himself to thank for his lack of talent and lack of ability to stand in the center of that ring and go toe to toe, blow for blow, move for a move or hold for hold with me. He’s going to be outmatched, outclassed, and simply outdone by one of the best technicians this sport has ever seen. The time for talk has come to an end, time for action is now because the road that got here doesn’t mean a fucking thing! It’s what happens when that bell rings on Santa Monica Pier when it comes to Thaddeus… but when it rings, it’s going to be too late for I already have him eating out of the palm of my hand like a good little boy.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Once again Chris intently gazes into the camera as he state.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” I’ll see you soon.”</font><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">We fade to black.</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Words from the Stoned One:<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/O0M5D5OA-d4?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<font color="green">” With Relentless growing ever so closer it didn’t hit me until right now exactly why Thad has a hard-on for me as he does. Dude wants my nuts.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene fades in as we get a shot a the faceplates of the XWF Television Championship to the right and his Tag Title on the left with Chris sitting between them.</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2d/62/0b/2d620b00611d74f859ce4f660f2dbb18.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 2d620b00611d74f859ce4f660f2dbb18.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<font color="green">” Before any scoffs at that very real statement let’s take a look at our history. First, Thad lifts the TV Title from Thunder Cunt, a title I had in my possession because I was and am the rightful Champion, I show up on Savage; outsmart the millennial via handcuffing him to the ropes, climb the Ladder and win the very match HE selected while officially taking my rightful spot as THE man on Saturday Night’s.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a brief pause from the duel champion.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Young Thaddeus couldn’t deal with being bested by a better performer, or so I thought. He continued to calling my name and interjecting himself into my business at all times and couldn’t take no for an answer; such as a lover scorned. What is your infatuation with me, Thad? Are you one of those dudes that don’t take no for an answer? Makes sense you’d want a Pure Wrestling Rules to match with me, easier for you to get closer to me. While I’m truly flattered that you’ve decided to step away from the twinks and navigate towards daddies ... cock just isn’t my thing.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Sheer sarcasm is the tone in which Chris speaks as he continues.[/green]<br />
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<font color="green">” I don’t give a flying fuck about your proclivities in homosexuality, but please for the love of God don’t just take no for an answer as it makes your look pathetic and weak. I am giving you want with this rematch that serves no real purpose because the outcome is going to be the same… with my arm raised in victory upon the Santa Monica Pier and you being humbled and embarrassed again.”</font>  [i]Chris leans back in his seat as he stares directly into the camera as he states.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” At what point do you sit back and wave that white flag while admitting that while you’re a good professional athlete you’re not great, at what point do you just shut the fuck up and realize that mediocre is your style and just accept it. You try so hard to connect to the crowd or people in general when in actuality those same people you suck up to wouldn’t piss on your teeth if your gums were on fire.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris reaches behind the TV title before putting a joint between his lips and sparking up.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” You needed me to tap you into your inner mean streak and while you battle amongst yourself if you’re going to cave into the dark side or if you’re going to continue the status quo being labeled subpar. I did my job and now it’s time for me to move on to other things for keeping you relevant isn’t the cards when I put you down and unequivocally establish beyond any reasonable doubt that within this story you’ll always be my bitch, bitch.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris takes a nice deep toke off his joint as deeply inhales. He blows out the smoke as he leans back in his chair with his hardware to his left and right.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Because only a bitch would appear in a Thunder Knuckles promo and proclaiming Thunder Knuckles being superior to me based on a fact that you beat him and I couldn’t? Mother Fucker I beat you! You beat him! So what’s that make me? Are you fucking kidding me with this juvenile logic? Did you even watch the match with Thunder Knuckles? Had you done your homework you wouldn’t look like a second rate cookie-cutter professional wrestler. This is further proof just how far some people will go to say something that sounds good in their heads but isn’t well thought out..”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris takes another pull from the joint as inhales before exhaling the smoke.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” This is getting as tiresome as the excuse of you beating yourself when you lost the TV Title, yet again trivializing down the fact that YOU selected a match that saw no rules and I was the guy that took your box you tried to confine me in and thought outside of it. It’s pitiful that in a match YOU selected that saw NO RULES I handcuffed you to the ropes and I climbed that Ladder and snatched down MY title. No, Thad, you didn’t beat yourself… you got beaten by someone BETTER THAN YOU.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris winks at the camera.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” You can continue to preach on until you’re red in the goddamn face about my reasons for refusing your challenge, clearly you don’t pay attention and I’m not going to rehash it time after time again… what I will say is that it doesn’t have jack shit to do with your skillset; or lack thereof…  but hey man, whatever you need to tell yourself to make yourself sound cool works for me. You don’t have to worry about what kind of game I’m bringing to Relentless because my F game is better than you’re a plus game any day of the fucking week. This little man-crush you’ve got on me comes to an end at Relentless; it needs to just come and go now so I can move the fuck on for the word bored doesn’t begin to describe with how I feel about having to continue wasting my time with these half-hearted jabs that you think cut deep wounds but in the real world where I live they don’t even scratch my surface.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris takes another toke on the joint, inhaling deeply as he states.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” The biggest difference between the two of us rests with I don’t have to walk around and tell myself I am better than anyone; I do it in your case because it’s true, however, in the case of anyone else my actions inside that ring establish that fact for me. In your case, you have this inferior complex that you’ve yet to shed regardless of the facts and regardless of the truth. The thing is we both have two different visions of how or why we’re here and now that we are you’re going to face the consequences for biting off more than you can fucking chew; and while your undying affection and underlying monotones are appreciated they’re not wanted. Keep that shit up and I’ll have a sexual harassment case to slap on the XWF and I’ll make even more money off your fucking foolishness.”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris smirks as he continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” This is your last chance to show the world what you’re capable of against someone as decorated as I am. You can continue to stalk me on twitter or whatever you feel you need to do moving forward after you suffer this impending failure. You’ve talked yourself up like you’ve always done… and you’re going to fail to deliver like you’ve grown accustomed too. Eventually what you’ll learn from all of this is how to deal with loss after loss after loss when you try to box with God… The way this is going I’m going to be out to the ring and back to the dressing room without breaking a sweat while leaving you in the rearview mirror as the rest of my weekend will play out.to perfection just as it begins at your expense.”</font>   <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The smirk suddenly disappears from Chris’s face as he stares blankly into the camera before he softly states.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” Unless you want “him” to show up.”</font>   <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The intense gaze into the camera continues as the same soft, methodical tone continues.</span><br />
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<font color="green">” “He” would love to play.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene suddenly goes dark.</span><br />
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<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/tze1Pl9.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: tze1Pl9.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene fades to black.</span><br />
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</div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[The Absent of Mind]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38219</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 16 Sep 2020 11:25:46 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2485">Johnny Legend</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38219</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/FqKLtTt/xwftemp-1.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwftemp-1.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">part one</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/67oQ7Xiu8xc?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;" class="mycode_font"><br />
<span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Sir.."</span><br />
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The scene opens to the rhythm of rain upon an umbrella, as a blueish hue from the storm carpets the sky this morning. An elderly, black lady stands over a man who sits against a building with his head tuck between his knees. With only the top of his head showing; bald spots scatter the surface of his scalp and a few long hairs dangle to the side as the rain drips down them. Holding the umbrella, the old lady leans over some more so the two can stay somewhat dry on this hellish day in Detroit, Michigan.<br />
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<span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Are you alright, Sweetheart?"</span> The old lady gently asks, tapping his shoulder with her free hand to get his attention.<br />
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<span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Do you need help?"</span> She asks once again, shaking his shoulder a bit. <br />
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People pass by without a single glance at the two, as the rain begins to pour; with the droplets now cascading down the sides of the umbrella and onto the head of the man. The man, broken and wearing a brown suit that is deteriorating by every drop, doesn't even flinch at the feel of cold water rushing down his back. The lady sighs, <span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Here.."</span> She plants the umbrella between his head and right arm to keep him dry, <span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"I'll be back with some food for you, honey."</span> She mentions and walks away with the rain saturating her clothing now without an umbrella.<br />
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The man lifts his head to reveal a beaten <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">Johnny Legend</span></span>, with his eyes bloodshot; like spider webbing across an ocean of milk. Bruises and scratches on his face, unknown from where they came from, Johnny turns his eyes to a puddle settling next to him. A puddle safe from the rain thanks to the umbrella that still rests on his shoulder. As it reflects the world around him, the buildings shimmer from the rain, the cars speed by, and people stroll with thoughts of tomorrow in their heads.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Tomorrow.</span> <br />
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The future for Johnny Legend feels like a haze filling crazy cake of anger and forgetfulness, as he is the only one that isn't moving in the reflection. He sniffs and swipes his hand across the surface of the puddle; distorting the reflection into something unrecognizable. <br />
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His face ripples away in the puddle, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Goodbye, stranger."</span> Johnny mutters to himself, his voice drowning in the sounds of a city finally waking up in the morning.<br />
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Johnny gradually gets to his feet, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Thanks."</span> He mumbles, setting the umbrella upside down and gently on the puddle; the rain begins to fill it little by little. Now, inside the umbrella forms a new puddle. And in that new puddle, a reflection of the world around it with a few ripples here and there from random rain drops smacking the surface. The scene slowly fades away with the back of Johnny Legend walking away, aimlessly into the city.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/51311p1/inbetween.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: inbetween.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
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The scene opens to the outside of <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Barnes</span></span> apartment building in downtown Detroit, Michigan. The golden sunset casts an orange glow across the city- accompanying with a light sprinkle from the tail-end of a storm early today. Andrew Barnes, who has been tearing up Alpha Pro Wrestling lately, watches the traffic build up from the comforts of his luxuries apartment. Adoring a plush gray robe, he smirks at the peons below him, sipping from a glass of fine whiskey. So fine.. We aren't even allowed to mention it on here. Andrew chuckles as he can hear some honks and yelling below his building, <br />
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<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Oh man, those lumpish idiots are ripping themselves apart down there. Love it."</span> Andrew jokes to himself while swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Idiots and their dumb jobs. Pathetic."</span><br />
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Suddenly, the bell rings from the other side, catching Andrew off-guard and spills some whiskey on himself. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Wha.. God dammit! <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">WHO IS THAT!?</span>"</span> Andrew yells, holding the dripping glass away from him and his expensive Salvatore Ferragamo loafers. Passing by the open kitchen next to the living room, Andrew sets the glass on the counter and makes his way towards the door.<br />
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Andrew open the door, revealing Johnny Legend with his caretaker and friend of Andrew, <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Jessie Schilling</span></span>. A dishevel look upon her, <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Hi."</span> Jessie says with a hint of exhaustion and hair every which way, she stands next to Johnny Legend with her hand squeezing his arm to keep him in place; <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Stand still!"</span> Jessie orders Johnny, who wiggles for a second only to return to his trance by fixating his eyes on the squeaky clean wall before him. The pearly white texture of the wall shines with the glow from lights in the hallway. Johnny stares into a shadowy figure in the wall. In his eyes, a monster.. But it's really just their outlines from the light above reflecting into the wall.<br />
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<span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Don't touch!"</span> Jessie slaps Johnny Legend's hand as he reaches for the wall.<span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color"> "Here.. Take him. The old man was wondering around the city in this weather and bothering people for Cheetos."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Cheetos?" </span>Andrew questions, squinting his eyes in disbelief- follow by a chuckle. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Why?" </span><br />
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Jessie shrugs, still containing Johnny Legend with one hand. <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"I don't know, but I have to deal with this thing and I can't handle him right now. So... Bye!"</span> Jessie walks Johnny over with some force, but still gentle enough not to hurt him as he shuffles into Andrew Barnes' apartment. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"No. No. NO!" </span>Andrew pops his head out into the hallway to scream at Jessie as she runs away. <br />
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A sigh exits out of Andrew Barnes,<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"> "Fucking bitch." </span>He mutters under his breath and slams the door shut. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Alright.. John.."</span> Andrew says and turns around, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"John.."</span> Like a puff of air, Johnny Legend has left Andrew's sights and is somewhere in his apartment. <br />
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<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Motherfucker!"</span> Andrew spits out, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!"</span> <br />
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Andrew stomps around his apartment. The kitchen. Nope. What if he's hiding behind that fancy leather couch in the living room!?<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">NOPE!</span></div></span><br />
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<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"How about the.. CLOSET!"</span> Andrew swings open the closet doors and rummages through the clothes hanging up, thinking Johnny is hiding behind them... But nope. He's not. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Where the fuck did you go?"</span> Andrew questions, standing there with clothing on the ground next to him. <br />
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Suddenly, Andrew hears a clicking noise. He rushes over to the weight room, where Andrew Barnes keeps his awesome physique; to find Johnny pressing buttons on one of his expensive as shit Nordictrack treadmills. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"WOAH! WOAH! Quit that!"</span> Andrew grabs Johnny by the arms from behind and moves him away from the pricey machine.<br />
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Moving back into the living room, Andrew sets Johnny down on one of the leather couches. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Just.. Just sit there until I figure out what to do with you.. OK!?"</span> Andrew wipes his forehead, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"This is Jessie's job. Not mine! And I don't care if you raised me after my dad left and Trudy died, John! <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">THIS ISN'T MY PROBLEM!</span> I have a fucking <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">WORLD TITLE</span> match coming up in Alpha Pro! I can't waste my time looking after a vegetable."</span><br />
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A few seconds of silence go by, Andrew standing above Johnny- who continues sitting there with a blank emotion on his scruffy face.<br />
<br />
Andrew sighs, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"What happened to your face?"</span> He walks out of the room and back with a wet hand towel in his hand. Washing away the grime and blood, Andrew holds Johnny's head still, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Stupid old man."</span> A tear runs down the face of Andrew Barnes as he notices the emptiness in Legend's eyes.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"You're a good man, John. You.. You just need help."</span> Andrew stands up to find another clean towel and soap to finish cleaning Johnny's cuts, but.. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Stop."</span> Johnny grips Andrew's arm, stopping him from leaving the room. Andrew caught off guard, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Wha.."</span> Andrew says, prying Johnny's hand off of his arm. <br />
<br />
With some life, Johnny Legend's eyes start to regain some color, as Andrew sits on the wooden coffee table in front of Johnny. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"So, you are there."</span> Andrew gives off a nervous chuckle.<br />
<br />
Johnny nods, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Yeah.. Sorry."</span> He wipes the dry spit from the corner of his mouth. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Where am I? Where's that girl.. Sara?"</span> Johnny Legend asks.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Jessie? She had something to do and dropped you off here. My place, John. You do remember me, right? Andrew Barnes junior?"</span> Andrew replies, hoping John remembers him.<br />
<br />
A cloud of confusion hovers over Johnny Legend. Andrew's face seems like a television playing only static. Nothing left to remember. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Yeah.."</span> Johnny says, but Andrew can tell he's lying; just can't bring himself to yell at Legend, anymore.<br />
<br />
Andrew sulks for a second before replying with, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"It's alright."</span> He stands up and rests his hand on Legend's shoulder, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Let me get you something to eat. Just sit there and everything will be alright."</span> Andrew walks away to make some food, leaving Johnny Legend alone in the living room.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I gotta get out here. This guy thinks I'm gay or something."</span> Johnny stands up and slowly walks past Andrew who is searching what to make while looking in the fridge.<br />
<br />
The scene cuts away, as Johnny Legend silently shuts the door and out of Andrew Barnes' apartment. Johnny looks down each side of the hallway, wondering where to go from here. Left or right. West or East. He licks his finger and raises it to the air. Feeling an imaginary wind, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Ah, East!"</span> Johnny lowers his hand and marches down the hallway.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I got a match in XWF!"</span> He utters to himself, the scene fades to black with Johnny turning the corner and out of sight.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
The sound of crickets open the scene as we find Johnny Legend sitting on a picnic table in the middle of a park out in downtown Detroit, Michigan. The streetlights flicker on from above Johnny Legend, sitting with his chin resting on his hands, contemplating life and what to do with his. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Days feel shorter. And not that it's just that time of the year. Life feels strange now. Almost alien. Faces from the past are fading away. Names are fuzzy and getting beaten up every XWF event isn't helping, either. People want to mock me for my last name... Saying I don't deserve to be a Legend."</span> Johnny shakes his head that is still resting in his hands.  <br />
<br />
He lifts his head up and away from his hands, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Or, take the easy route like Andrew Gibson, and in our last bout, declare himself Legend killer after destroying my ass in Canada."</span> Johnny mentions to himself.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Beating an old man who can't even remember his mother's face? What an achievement for Andrew Gibson... Gibson.. No.. That's not right. What was his name? He had an annoying wife who hates rain.. Looo... LOGAN! ANDREW LOGAN!"</span> Johnny yells in excitement for remembering something. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Thank God. Thought I was... What's that smell?"</span> Johnny quits talking to himself to enjoy the cool breeze on a fall night in Michigan. The sweet air smells like pumpkin, from people and their damn pumpkin spice coffee filling the atmosphere of this shitty planet.<br />
<br />
A gurgling noise shakes from Johnny's belly, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Why am I so hungry?"</span> He rubs his stomach.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Ever since I joined XWF, I really thought I had it in me to compete with the big boys. Now... Now I see how foolish I have become. This new generation is way above my league."</span> Johnny mentions with a certain lucidity.<br />
<br />
He wipes his face, breaking open the cuts that just got dry, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Why, oh why did I return here if all there was is defeat in the future?"</span> Johnny asks himself.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I swear I was in a title match this pay-per-view? I guess I can chalk that up to.. Whatever I have."</span> Johnny shrugs, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Now I'm told that I have a match against three others that I can't remember. Wait! YEAH! Andrew Logan is there. Yeah.. That's good. I know that. Who are the others, though?"</span> Johnny rubs his forehead, strands of hair falling out every time he digs his palm into the scalp.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I feel incredibly stupid for forgetting the other two... Or is it three?"</span> Johnny grunts,<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Fucking brain.. WORK!"</span> He smacks his head, hoping to shake something lose up there.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Fuck it. I'm going home to watch some Felix the Cat cartoons... Where do I live again?"</span> Johnny sits there in confusion, the scene fades away with the sounds of grumbling coming from Johnny Legend's stomach.<br />
<br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/LCPzVrq/bowdown.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: bowdown.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/FqKLtTt/xwftemp-1.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwftemp-1.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">part one</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/67oQ7Xiu8xc?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;" class="mycode_font"><br />
<span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Sir.."</span><br />
<br />
The scene opens to the rhythm of rain upon an umbrella, as a blueish hue from the storm carpets the sky this morning. An elderly, black lady stands over a man who sits against a building with his head tuck between his knees. With only the top of his head showing; bald spots scatter the surface of his scalp and a few long hairs dangle to the side as the rain drips down them. Holding the umbrella, the old lady leans over some more so the two can stay somewhat dry on this hellish day in Detroit, Michigan.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Are you alright, Sweetheart?"</span> The old lady gently asks, tapping his shoulder with her free hand to get his attention.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Do you need help?"</span> She asks once again, shaking his shoulder a bit. <br />
<br />
People pass by without a single glance at the two, as the rain begins to pour; with the droplets now cascading down the sides of the umbrella and onto the head of the man. The man, broken and wearing a brown suit that is deteriorating by every drop, doesn't even flinch at the feel of cold water rushing down his back. The lady sighs, <span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"Here.."</span> She plants the umbrella between his head and right arm to keep him dry, <span style="color: #FF69B4;" class="mycode_color">"I'll be back with some food for you, honey."</span> She mentions and walks away with the rain saturating her clothing now without an umbrella.<br />
<br />
The man lifts his head to reveal a beaten <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">Johnny Legend</span></span>, with his eyes bloodshot; like spider webbing across an ocean of milk. Bruises and scratches on his face, unknown from where they came from, Johnny turns his eyes to a puddle settling next to him. A puddle safe from the rain thanks to the umbrella that still rests on his shoulder. As it reflects the world around him, the buildings shimmer from the rain, the cars speed by, and people stroll with thoughts of tomorrow in their heads.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Tomorrow.</span> <br />
<br />
The future for Johnny Legend feels like a haze filling crazy cake of anger and forgetfulness, as he is the only one that isn't moving in the reflection. He sniffs and swipes his hand across the surface of the puddle; distorting the reflection into something unrecognizable. <br />
<br />
His face ripples away in the puddle, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Goodbye, stranger."</span> Johnny mutters to himself, his voice drowning in the sounds of a city finally waking up in the morning.<br />
<br />
Johnny gradually gets to his feet, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Thanks."</span> He mumbles, setting the umbrella upside down and gently on the puddle; the rain begins to fill it little by little. Now, inside the umbrella forms a new puddle. And in that new puddle, a reflection of the world around it with a few ripples here and there from random rain drops smacking the surface. The scene slowly fades away with the back of Johnny Legend walking away, aimlessly into the city.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/51311p1/inbetween.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: inbetween.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
 <br />
The scene opens to the outside of <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">Andrew Barnes</span></span> apartment building in downtown Detroit, Michigan. The golden sunset casts an orange glow across the city- accompanying with a light sprinkle from the tail-end of a storm early today. Andrew Barnes, who has been tearing up Alpha Pro Wrestling lately, watches the traffic build up from the comforts of his luxuries apartment. Adoring a plush gray robe, he smirks at the peons below him, sipping from a glass of fine whiskey. So fine.. We aren't even allowed to mention it on here. Andrew chuckles as he can hear some honks and yelling below his building, <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Oh man, those lumpish idiots are ripping themselves apart down there. Love it."</span> Andrew jokes to himself while swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Idiots and their dumb jobs. Pathetic."</span><br />
<br />
Suddenly, the bell rings from the other side, catching Andrew off-guard and spills some whiskey on himself. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Wha.. God dammit! <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">WHO IS THAT!?</span>"</span> Andrew yells, holding the dripping glass away from him and his expensive Salvatore Ferragamo loafers. Passing by the open kitchen next to the living room, Andrew sets the glass on the counter and makes his way towards the door.<br />
<br />
Andrew open the door, revealing Johnny Legend with his caretaker and friend of Andrew, <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">Jessie Schilling</span></span>. A dishevel look upon her, <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Hi."</span> Jessie says with a hint of exhaustion and hair every which way, she stands next to Johnny Legend with her hand squeezing his arm to keep him in place; <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Stand still!"</span> Jessie orders Johnny, who wiggles for a second only to return to his trance by fixating his eyes on the squeaky clean wall before him. The pearly white texture of the wall shines with the glow from lights in the hallway. Johnny stares into a shadowy figure in the wall. In his eyes, a monster.. But it's really just their outlines from the light above reflecting into the wall.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"Don't touch!"</span> Jessie slaps Johnny Legend's hand as he reaches for the wall.<span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color"> "Here.. Take him. The old man was wondering around the city in this weather and bothering people for Cheetos."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Cheetos?" </span>Andrew questions, squinting his eyes in disbelief- follow by a chuckle. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Why?" </span><br />
<br />
Jessie shrugs, still containing Johnny Legend with one hand. <span style="color: #00BFFF;" class="mycode_color">"I don't know, but I have to deal with this thing and I can't handle him right now. So... Bye!"</span> Jessie walks Johnny over with some force, but still gentle enough not to hurt him as he shuffles into Andrew Barnes' apartment. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"No. No. NO!" </span>Andrew pops his head out into the hallway to scream at Jessie as she runs away. <br />
 <br />
A sigh exits out of Andrew Barnes,<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color"> "Fucking bitch." </span>He mutters under his breath and slams the door shut. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Alright.. John.."</span> Andrew says and turns around, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"John.."</span> Like a puff of air, Johnny Legend has left Andrew's sights and is somewhere in his apartment. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Motherfucker!"</span> Andrew spits out, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!"</span> <br />
<br />
Andrew stomps around his apartment. The kitchen. Nope. What if he's hiding behind that fancy leather couch in the living room!?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;" class="mycode_size"><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">NOPE!</span></div></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"How about the.. CLOSET!"</span> Andrew swings open the closet doors and rummages through the clothes hanging up, thinking Johnny is hiding behind them... But nope. He's not. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Where the fuck did you go?"</span> Andrew questions, standing there with clothing on the ground next to him. <br />
<br />
Suddenly, Andrew hears a clicking noise. He rushes over to the weight room, where Andrew Barnes keeps his awesome physique; to find Johnny pressing buttons on one of his expensive as shit Nordictrack treadmills. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"WOAH! WOAH! Quit that!"</span> Andrew grabs Johnny by the arms from behind and moves him away from the pricey machine.<br />
<br />
Moving back into the living room, Andrew sets Johnny down on one of the leather couches. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Just.. Just sit there until I figure out what to do with you.. OK!?"</span> Andrew wipes his forehead, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"This is Jessie's job. Not mine! And I don't care if you raised me after my dad left and Trudy died, John! <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">THIS ISN'T MY PROBLEM!</span> I have a fucking <span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">WORLD TITLE</span> match coming up in Alpha Pro! I can't waste my time looking after a vegetable."</span><br />
<br />
A few seconds of silence go by, Andrew standing above Johnny- who continues sitting there with a blank emotion on his scruffy face.<br />
<br />
Andrew sighs, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"What happened to your face?"</span> He walks out of the room and back with a wet hand towel in his hand. Washing away the grime and blood, Andrew holds Johnny's head still, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Stupid old man."</span> A tear runs down the face of Andrew Barnes as he notices the emptiness in Legend's eyes.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"You're a good man, John. You.. You just need help."</span> Andrew stands up to find another clean towel and soap to finish cleaning Johnny's cuts, but.. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Stop."</span> Johnny grips Andrew's arm, stopping him from leaving the room. Andrew caught off guard, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Wha.."</span> Andrew says, prying Johnny's hand off of his arm. <br />
<br />
With some life, Johnny Legend's eyes start to regain some color, as Andrew sits on the wooden coffee table in front of Johnny. <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"So, you are there."</span> Andrew gives off a nervous chuckle.<br />
<br />
Johnny nods, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Yeah.. Sorry."</span> He wipes the dry spit from the corner of his mouth. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Where am I? Where's that girl.. Sara?"</span> Johnny Legend asks.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Jessie? She had something to do and dropped you off here. My place, John. You do remember me, right? Andrew Barnes junior?"</span> Andrew replies, hoping John remembers him.<br />
<br />
A cloud of confusion hovers over Johnny Legend. Andrew's face seems like a television playing only static. Nothing left to remember. <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Yeah.."</span> Johnny says, but Andrew can tell he's lying; just can't bring himself to yell at Legend, anymore.<br />
<br />
Andrew sulks for a second before replying with, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"It's alright."</span> He stands up and rests his hand on Legend's shoulder, <span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">"Let me get you something to eat. Just sit there and everything will be alright."</span> Andrew walks away to make some food, leaving Johnny Legend alone in the living room.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I gotta get out here. This guy thinks I'm gay or something."</span> Johnny stands up and slowly walks past Andrew who is searching what to make while looking in the fridge.<br />
<br />
The scene cuts away, as Johnny Legend silently shuts the door and out of Andrew Barnes' apartment. Johnny looks down each side of the hallway, wondering where to go from here. Left or right. West or East. He licks his finger and raises it to the air. Feeling an imaginary wind, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Ah, East!"</span> Johnny lowers his hand and marches down the hallway.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I got a match in XWF!"</span> He utters to himself, the scene fades to black with Johnny turning the corner and out of sight.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/pj7DdcH/xwfdiv.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: xwfdiv.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>
<br />
The sound of crickets open the scene as we find Johnny Legend sitting on a picnic table in the middle of a park out in downtown Detroit, Michigan. The streetlights flicker on from above Johnny Legend, sitting with his chin resting on his hands, contemplating life and what to do with his. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Days feel shorter. And not that it's just that time of the year. Life feels strange now. Almost alien. Faces from the past are fading away. Names are fuzzy and getting beaten up every XWF event isn't helping, either. People want to mock me for my last name... Saying I don't deserve to be a Legend."</span> Johnny shakes his head that is still resting in his hands.  <br />
<br />
He lifts his head up and away from his hands, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Or, take the easy route like Andrew Gibson, and in our last bout, declare himself Legend killer after destroying my ass in Canada."</span> Johnny mentions to himself.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Beating an old man who can't even remember his mother's face? What an achievement for Andrew Gibson... Gibson.. No.. That's not right. What was his name? He had an annoying wife who hates rain.. Looo... LOGAN! ANDREW LOGAN!"</span> Johnny yells in excitement for remembering something. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Thank God. Thought I was... What's that smell?"</span> Johnny quits talking to himself to enjoy the cool breeze on a fall night in Michigan. The sweet air smells like pumpkin, from people and their damn pumpkin spice coffee filling the atmosphere of this shitty planet.<br />
<br />
A gurgling noise shakes from Johnny's belly, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Why am I so hungry?"</span> He rubs his stomach.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Ever since I joined XWF, I really thought I had it in me to compete with the big boys. Now... Now I see how foolish I have become. This new generation is way above my league."</span> Johnny mentions with a certain lucidity.<br />
<br />
He wipes his face, breaking open the cuts that just got dry, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Why, oh why did I return here if all there was is defeat in the future?"</span> Johnny asks himself.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I swear I was in a title match this pay-per-view? I guess I can chalk that up to.. Whatever I have."</span> Johnny shrugs, <span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Now I'm told that I have a match against three others that I can't remember. Wait! YEAH! Andrew Logan is there. Yeah.. That's good. I know that. Who are the others, though?"</span> Johnny rubs his forehead, strands of hair falling out every time he digs his palm into the scalp.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"I feel incredibly stupid for forgetting the other two... Or is it three?"</span> Johnny grunts,<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color"> "Fucking brain.. WORK!"</span> He smacks his head, hoping to shake something lose up there.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #FFD700;" class="mycode_color">"Fuck it. I'm going home to watch some Felix the Cat cartoons... Where do I live again?"</span> Johnny sits there in confusion, the scene fades away with the sounds of grumbling coming from Johnny Legend's stomach.<br />
<br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/LCPzVrq/bowdown.png" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: bowdown.png]" class="mycode_img" /></div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[Boiling points part 2: Sucker punch]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38211</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 15 Sep 2020 18:03:50 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2275">bRiaN sTorM</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38211</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pGO-39biaQg?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #808000;" class="mycode_color">It was early evening, the sun was just starting to set, the temperature was cooling down and Griffin MacAlister was fixing to close up shop and head home for the day. After completing several tasks, Griffin locked up, lit a cigarette and carried a large trash bag, down the alley to the dumpster. Ordinarily Griffin was far more aware of his surroundings but it had been a long, hectic day and his mind was on other things, also there weren't any alarming or questionable activities going on around him when he walked to the dumpster. Business as usual and nothing more. Or so the mechanic thought.<br />
<br />
Heavy footsteps would soon greet his ears, right before he closed the lid on the dumpster and turned around. WHAM! Griffin should have hesitated and braced for impact cause that mechanic was met with a mighty blow to the jaw. The impact was enough to send him stumbling back too and when he saw who was standing there, the man that was responsible for punching him, well it was a real reason for shock. Griffin would have never assumed something like this would occur but now that it did, he immediately went on the defense.</span><br />
<br />
<font color="tan">"bRiaN! What the fuck!?!?"</font><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6B8E23;" class="mycode_color">"My thoughts exactly. What the fuck???"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #808000;" class="mycode_color">These words were followed by bRiaN taking an aggressive step forward causing Griffin to take a surprising, step backwards as he raised his hands. Except this was not done in the form of fists. Instead this was done the same way someone might do when they didn't want to encourage an attack.</span><br />
<br />
<font color="tan">"Dude. Chill. You don't want to do this man."</font><br />
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<span style="color: #6B8E23;" class="mycode_color">"You're right but you left me no choice. Man. I want answers and I'm going to get them. One way or another."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #808000;" class="mycode_color">Before Griffin could speak another word, bRiaN charged at Griffin and slammed him against the wall. Eye to eye, Griffin narrowed his and sent bRiaN back with a headbutt. This began a brawl, worthy of being called a street fight. The way that brothers might be driven to blows over a dispute. With neither man gaining the upper hand for long. Till bRiaN caught Griffin with a spear into the dumpster. Griffin dropped to his knees, looking up at bRiaN, he received a boot to the face that knocked him onto his back and bRiaN mounted him, in order to give one last epic punch that would surely be a knock out. <br />
<br />
Seconds before impact though, something odd happened. bRiaN pounded his fist into the pavement instead. Very close to Griffin's head. Then he fell off to the side, next to Griffin. The two laid on the concrete, for several seconds and then both burst out laughing, at the same time. Long, hearty laughter. Sighing, Griffin rose to his feet, shook his head and fired up a cigarette. Offering a hand up to bRiaN, that our hometown hero accepted.</span><br />
<br />
<font color="tan">"Fuck it. You wanna know who the masked man is.....I'll tell ya. The masked man is someone from my past, a guy I owe a hefty debt of gratitude. His name is..."</font>]]></description>
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<br />
<span style="color: #808000;" class="mycode_color">It was early evening, the sun was just starting to set, the temperature was cooling down and Griffin MacAlister was fixing to close up shop and head home for the day. After completing several tasks, Griffin locked up, lit a cigarette and carried a large trash bag, down the alley to the dumpster. Ordinarily Griffin was far more aware of his surroundings but it had been a long, hectic day and his mind was on other things, also there weren't any alarming or questionable activities going on around him when he walked to the dumpster. Business as usual and nothing more. Or so the mechanic thought.<br />
<br />
Heavy footsteps would soon greet his ears, right before he closed the lid on the dumpster and turned around. WHAM! Griffin should have hesitated and braced for impact cause that mechanic was met with a mighty blow to the jaw. The impact was enough to send him stumbling back too and when he saw who was standing there, the man that was responsible for punching him, well it was a real reason for shock. Griffin would have never assumed something like this would occur but now that it did, he immediately went on the defense.</span><br />
<br />
<font color="tan">"bRiaN! What the fuck!?!?"</font><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6B8E23;" class="mycode_color">"My thoughts exactly. What the fuck???"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #808000;" class="mycode_color">These words were followed by bRiaN taking an aggressive step forward causing Griffin to take a surprising, step backwards as he raised his hands. Except this was not done in the form of fists. Instead this was done the same way someone might do when they didn't want to encourage an attack.</span><br />
<br />
<font color="tan">"Dude. Chill. You don't want to do this man."</font><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6B8E23;" class="mycode_color">"You're right but you left me no choice. Man. I want answers and I'm going to get them. One way or another."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #808000;" class="mycode_color">Before Griffin could speak another word, bRiaN charged at Griffin and slammed him against the wall. Eye to eye, Griffin narrowed his and sent bRiaN back with a headbutt. This began a brawl, worthy of being called a street fight. The way that brothers might be driven to blows over a dispute. With neither man gaining the upper hand for long. Till bRiaN caught Griffin with a spear into the dumpster. Griffin dropped to his knees, looking up at bRiaN, he received a boot to the face that knocked him onto his back and bRiaN mounted him, in order to give one last epic punch that would surely be a knock out. <br />
<br />
Seconds before impact though, something odd happened. bRiaN pounded his fist into the pavement instead. Very close to Griffin's head. Then he fell off to the side, next to Griffin. The two laid on the concrete, for several seconds and then both burst out laughing, at the same time. Long, hearty laughter. Sighing, Griffin rose to his feet, shook his head and fired up a cigarette. Offering a hand up to bRiaN, that our hometown hero accepted.</span><br />
<br />
<font color="tan">"Fuck it. You wanna know who the masked man is.....I'll tell ya. The masked man is someone from my past, a guy I owe a hefty debt of gratitude. His name is..."</font>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[Garrett Returns:  RP #1]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38191</link>
			<pubDate>Mon, 14 Sep 2020 09:15:54 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2607">TD1</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38191</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<span style="font-family: Tahoma;" class="mycode_font"><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" /><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="gold">John Adams Academy || New Haven, Connecticut</font></div><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" />
<br />
<br />
I sit quietly in my cap and gown as the Headmaster speaks, thinking to myself about how far I have come in my personal journey to not only better myself, but to have some semblance of a normal life.  Graduating high school is a big deal to me.  I went to school here just to know what it was like to be a normal kid because I never had that opportunity.  Through my time here, I met a couple of rather amazing people.  Two best friends.  One I miss terribly.  I’d like to think he’s here watching, but I don’t believe in the afterlife.  Once you’re gone, that’s it.  Eternal darkness and nothing else.  The other?  Garrett Wentworth.  I love him too.  Right now he hates my very existence and I don’t blame him for it.  It is my fault and no one else’s.<br />
<br />
To be honest, I wasn’t even going to come today.  I didn’t have the courage to face Garrett and be seated next to him.  Lizzy talked me into it.  Frankie sits with Jim in the balcony of this air conditioned but still kind of stuffy auditorium.  My dad’s here somewhere.  Even my uncle Theo and to be honest, that really means so much to me.  Despite being here physically, I’m not here mentally.  My worries rest entirely with Elizabeth.  She’d gone to New York earlier to get some things from Alister’s place.  I tried to cancel my commencement speech and she wouldn’t hear it.  I felt like I needed to go with her.  For moral support?  For protection?  She denied me at every turn.  I even offered to send Mufasa with her.  She laughed, and denied that too.  One thing she can never be accused of is lacking courage.<br />
<br />
She has the courage to confront her husband and here I am afraid to face my boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend.  He’s more than that though.  He’s my friend and I still love him.  It’s just that, I’m not <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">his</span> friend.<br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="white">Four Days Ago</font></div>
<br />
I sit on the sofa in the residence watching TV like a normal person as I unwind from a particularly tedious day as leader of the Illuminatus Nation.  Liz curled up beside me, Frankie lying on the floor playing something on his iPad and using Mufasa as a pillow.  Mufasa is the more subdued of the two lions but he must sense a need for love in Frankie because ever since he came here, Mufasa doesn’t leave his side for too long.  I don’t know what I did to get so personally lucky.  I’ve tried to be ‘normal’ for almost my entire existence but somehow, nothing gives me normalcy like unwinding in front of the television with the woman I love and the nine year old boy I’m raising.  So, of course it’s gonna be interrupted right?<br />
<br />
The intercom phone rings from its position on the end table.  I look at it, noticing its the Gate House.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”What is it?”</font> I ask after hitting the appropriate button and muting the TV.<br />
<br />
<font color="purple">”Sir, there’s a Garrett Wentworth here requesting access,”</font> Karen, the Gate House security chief says.  I’m reminded that I told her I’d find her a job more fulfilling than boring Gate House chief.  I will fulfill that promise, but what’s more pressing is Garrett.<br />
<br />
I look at Liz, perplexed as to why he’d show up unannounced.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Oh my god,”</font> she says with a smirk.  <font color="pink">”I’m gonna meet the boyfriend!”</font> she says with probably a little too much excitement.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Whose boyfriend?”</font> Frankie asks without adverting his eyes from his game.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Mine,”</font> I tell him honestly.  I’m not going to lie to him or protect some false sense of ‘what ought to be’.  Love is love and it isn’t required to fit into some arbitrary box.  I will raise him that way.  Despite his own future sexual desires, he will learn to accept people as they are and not try and force others to conform to his ideal view of the world.<br />
<br />
Frankie stops all movement and slowly turns to look at me.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”You like boys?”</font> he asks.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Bring him up, please Karen,”</font> I finally answer her.  <font color="gold">”I do, Frankie.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”But that’s...”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Just love, kiddo.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Boys can love other boys?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Of course, and girls can love other girls.”</font><br />
<br />
For what it’s worth, I don’t pick up any hints of what direction Frankie will go when he hits that age.  He’s still young yet.  Boys are cool, girls are still annoying.  That’s good though because I’m not ready to help him navigate that part of life just yet.<br />
<br />
The knock comes at the door and my heart races.  I hesitate, but Liz shoves my shoulder, urging me to the door.  With my hand on the knob, I sigh deeply and open it.  There he stands in all his beautiful glory and I’m flooded with regret and memories of a journey that started with me just trying to be there for him as he comes out to people he loves but ended up making me question my own view of things and ultimately saw him and I become… something so much more than just friends.<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="gold" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/gwtm27B.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: gwtm27B.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
I don’t regret that part.  He’s cute and I do love him, but obviously not as much as I should have.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You’re busy, so I’m gonna make this short,”</font> he says with a shaky voice.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Don’t be silly,”</font> Liz interrupts him.  <font color="pink">”Garrett, come in honey, have a seat.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I don’t think I will ma’am, but thank you.”</font><br />
<br />
I roll my eyes and grab him by his shirt collar and pull him into the residence.  I nod at Karen and close the door behind me.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I know you hate me Garrett,”</font> I begin as he fixes his shirt collar.  <font color="gold">”You have every right to but I need you to know how sorry I am for...”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Just stop Thad,”</font> he interrupts, holding up his palm.  <font color="green">”I didn’t come here to chat or catch up or for you to apologize.  I came here because John Adams is having commencement in a few days and a lot of people were requesting your presence, so here I am.<br />
<br />
“Despite my better judgment, I’m here to ask you to come and speak at commencement.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”What’s commencement?”</font> Frankie interrupts.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Oh yeah, Garrett this is Liz and the little guy is Frankie,”</font> I say, introducing my family.  <font color="gold">”This is Garrett.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Hi Garrett, what’s commencement?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’s a ceremony for high school seniors that are graduating.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Frankie honey, let’s leave Thad and Garrett alone to talk for a bit.”</font>  Liz takes Frankie and heads into the other room.  Mufasa follows Frankie.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”They didn’t have to go Thad, I’m not staying any longer than I have to.”</font><br />
<br />
I search for words but nothing comes.  I’m equal parts embarrassed, ashamed, guilty.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Man I gotta go, you gonna come or not?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Of course, I’ll be there,”</font> I answer him.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Good,”</font> he says as he turns for the door.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”You don’t have to go.  Stay, let’s talk.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”There’s nothing to say,”</font> he says, his voice cracking beneath the weight of emotion he’s been trying desperately to hide.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Let me hear it,”</font> I say to him as he opens the door.  He pauses a second and I know I’ve got him.  <font color="gold">”You have things weighing you down, Garrett, that have weighed you down for months.<br />
<br />
“Close that door, turn around, and tell me all the things you’ve wanted to say to me.”</font><br />
<br />
He closes the door, but doesn’t turn around.  He wipes what I assume is a tear from his eye.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I loved you,”</font> he says muffled by his overwhelming emotion.  <font color="green">”You helped me get through the hardest thing I have ever done when I was coming out.  You weren’t like me but you went to my families house with me.  You went to Pride with me.  You mocked the hecklers that were making fun of us.<br />
<br />
“You kissed me for fucks sake Thaddeus.<br />
<br />
“That’s when I knew I loved you.”</font><br />
<br />
I place my hand on his shoulder.  He reaches up and rips my hand away.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”</font> he yells as he turns around to look me in the eye.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I didn’t feel anything then,”</font> I reply to him honestly.  <font color="gold">”I was just being a friend.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Never?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”No I mean at the parade, I didn’t feel anything for you.  I was only trying to make the hecklers as uncomfortable as possible.<br />
<br />
“It was that night in your room.<br />
<br />
“You were lying on the bed and I was playing on my phone on the floor.  You leaned over and hugged my neck and thanked me for being there for you.  You smelled of Irish Spring and I just remember that that was the moment I started wondering if I was into guys because I felt totally into you.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Clearly that didn’t last.”</font><br />
<br />
I say nothing.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Then you died.”</font>  His face is beet red and it occurs to me what this is really about.  It’s not the failed relationship that hurts him.  It happens to everyone.  <font color="green">”I was flipping channels and I was just about to text you.  I knew you were heading to Virginia to see your dad.<br />
<br />
“I knew you were flying.<br />
<br />
“Illuminatus One plunges into Long Island Sound.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”There’s nothing I can say...”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Your plane was blown out of the fucking sky!  Everyone thought you were dead, Thaddeus!  I thought you were dead!  No calls!  No texts telling me you got out and were okay!  You didn’t think enough of me to let me know you were safe!  You just let everyone think you were dead and went about your life anonymously without a fucking single thought about any of us!”</font><br />
<br />
I told Jim.  But I’d rather not mention that now.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I mourned you Thaddeus!  The guy I loved blown to bits and you allowed me to mourn and grieve and cry myself to sleep at night!<br />
<br />
“FUCK YOU MAN!”</font><br />
<br />
He throws himself to the floor, seated against the wall.  There’s nothing I can say that’ll make me right.  I wasn’t.  There’s nothing I can say that’ll make him feel okay with what happened or why I did what I did.  It was selfish of me and I’ll regret it until the day I actually do die.  I didn’t consider anyone’s feelings then except for my own.<br />
<br />
I lean down and sit beside him, pulling his head to my shoulder.  He resists a moment, but relents.  He clutches my hand with his and I thought he was going to tear my hand off of him like earlier, but he just squeezes tight and cries on my shoulder.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Garrett,”</font> I begin, choking back emotion.  <font color="gold">”You have every right to hate me and I get it.  If someone had done that to me...”</font>  I pause.  <font color="gold">”No apology is going to change what I did, man.  I know it doesn’t mean anything but I didn’t not care.<br />
<br />
“I saw you many times leaving flowers for Curt at the cemetery.  So many times I wanted to get out and run to you, but I was ashamed.”</font><br />
<br />
He looks up at me.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You were there?”</font><br />
<br />
I only nod.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Nothing will change what I did, Garrett.  I don’t know how to apologize for it, I don’t know how to even begin to beg your forgiveness for it.  I hurt you so bad by it.”</font><br />
<br />
He stands up and wipes his eyes before starting for the door again.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I love you Garrett.  I never didn’t,”</font> I say as I stand up too.  <font color="gold">”I have no right to ask, but I’m going to anyway.  I know you can’t right now, but I’m asking you to find it in your heart to forgive me for what I did.  You didn’t deserve to be tossed aside like that and I surely don’t deserve to have it, much less ask for it.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You’re right,”</font> he says as he opens the door.  <font color="green">”You don’t deserve it.”</font><br />
<br />
Just like that, Garrett Wentworth is gone.<br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="white">Present Day</font></div>
<br />
I can’t help but look at him.  He’s beside me and he hasn’t uttered a word to me and hasn’t so much as looked at me.  I deserve his hatred.  It hurts of course, but I was so extremely selfish to think that letting people that loved me think I was dead was something good to do.  It wasn’t, obviously.  That hurt him so terribly and I’ll never be able to wrap my head around the fact that I allowed myself to do it.  Not to him.  Despite his introduction into my life; trying to out me at school as Thaddeus Duke instead of the pseudonym I used as Jack Fitzgerald, he really is a good guy.  I say I’m a good guy.  I think I am, but my actions at times suggest otherwise.<br />
<br />
Even good people do bad things to those they love.  This commencement for John Adams Academy was delayed due to the virus that has gripped the world, but part of me regrets being here.  I hurt him so badly and I don’t even forgive myself for it yet I’m asking him to.<br />
<br />
What the fuck have I done?<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100%; height: 4px; color: gold; background-color: gold;" />
<br />
<font color="gold">Relentless.<br />
<br />
Guys, I made it to a second straight pay per view.  Are you shocked?<br />
<br />
I’m sure some people are.<br />
<br />
‘How long will it be until flaky Thaddeus Duke, flakes?’<br />
<br />
I got news for you, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not going anywhere.  Not now.  Not anytime soon.  The flaking days are over and I’m barely even warmed up.  I said I was here for the long haul and I meant it.  I’ve reclaimed my love for this business and it’s now right where it belongs- near the center of my universe.<br />
<br />
For a long time, I’ve been mocked and ridiculed for simply me being me.  For having the audacity to carry the same last name as my father while also trying to do what he did and leave a lasting impression in the hearts and minds of wrestling fans all over the world.  It used to bother me.  It used to piss me right the fuck off when someone would say ‘oh you’re living off your daddies name.’  But you know what?  My father was fuckin’ great.  Anyone who claims otherwise, is a fuckin’ fool.  See, I used to almost regret not changing my name when I entered wrestling because of the obvious comparisons.<br />
<br />
There is no comparison.  Sebastian Duke and Thaddeus Duke are entirely different people with entirely different styles and entirely different methods of operation.  I am my own man and I always have been.<br />
<br />
Greatness is the only similarity.<br />
<br />
I take my share of losses like most do in this business, but the one thing that always remains the same is when you see my name on the fuckin’ marquee, the stadium is filled, the crowd is loud, the television ratings and pay per view buyrates go up, because I give everything I have and then some to those that pay to see me do what I do better than anyone else in that ring.<br />
<br />
The fans know what I am, and that’s what matters to me.<br />
<br />
If it sounds like I’m inflating my own ego then you’re probably right.  No one in the industry is gonna put me over in the ring skills department because that’s just not what we’re supposed to do so, here I am putting myself over.  There isn’t a soul on this planet that can do the things I do in the way that I like to do them when the bell rings and I go to work.  No one.<br />
<br />
Certainly not Chris Page.<br />
<br />
Page thinks that because he handcuffed me to the ropes which allowed him to climb a ladder and win the TV title that that somehow means he’s better than me.  The fact of the matter is real simple: I beat me.  Chris Page didn’t.<br />
<br />
The fact of the matter is I challenged Chris Page to a match at Relentless and he refused stating he had ‘nothing to prove’ but I wholeheartedly disagree.  He claimed he had nothing to prove, but in reality, he’s now aware of what I can do in the ring and he wanted no part of him becoming second best.<br />
<br />
That’s the truth of it.<br />
<br />
Here’s the reality check, Chris.  Anytime I’m in that ring, whether its you staring across from me, or Bourbon or Chaos or anyone else, there is nowhere to go for you except second best.  First is already taken and I’m not giving it up.<br />
<br />
I have a renewed sense of focus, a renewed purpose and that’s not good for anyone but me.  I’m stronger, faster, smarter and more determined than I’ve ever been.  So you can paint your face with the false bravado and claim you have nothing to prove.<br />
<br />
You do.<br />
<br />
You know it.<br />
<br />
And you know you’ll fail to deliver on being the best because I’ve already planted the doubt in your mind that you’re better than me.  No one is, Chris.  That’s not ego, it’s straight fact.  If you refused to believe it before, you’re absolutely gonna believe it at Relentless when I beat you like the bitch you are.<br />
<br />
You could have manned up and accepted the challenge, but that’s not you.  It took me kicking your teeth down your throat for you to finally accept and that tells me that I’m in your head.<br />
<br />
Congratulations, Chris Page.  You’re the next contestant on the I’m Better Than You world tour.  You better bring your A plus game Page, because I have nothing but an A plus game.</font></span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<span style="font-family: Tahoma;" class="mycode_font"><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" /><div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="gold">John Adams Academy || New Haven, Connecticut</font></div><hr style="width: 60%; height: 4px; color: white; background-color: white;" />
<br />
<br />
I sit quietly in my cap and gown as the Headmaster speaks, thinking to myself about how far I have come in my personal journey to not only better myself, but to have some semblance of a normal life.  Graduating high school is a big deal to me.  I went to school here just to know what it was like to be a normal kid because I never had that opportunity.  Through my time here, I met a couple of rather amazing people.  Two best friends.  One I miss terribly.  I’d like to think he’s here watching, but I don’t believe in the afterlife.  Once you’re gone, that’s it.  Eternal darkness and nothing else.  The other?  Garrett Wentworth.  I love him too.  Right now he hates my very existence and I don’t blame him for it.  It is my fault and no one else’s.<br />
<br />
To be honest, I wasn’t even going to come today.  I didn’t have the courage to face Garrett and be seated next to him.  Lizzy talked me into it.  Frankie sits with Jim in the balcony of this air conditioned but still kind of stuffy auditorium.  My dad’s here somewhere.  Even my uncle Theo and to be honest, that really means so much to me.  Despite being here physically, I’m not here mentally.  My worries rest entirely with Elizabeth.  She’d gone to New York earlier to get some things from Alister’s place.  I tried to cancel my commencement speech and she wouldn’t hear it.  I felt like I needed to go with her.  For moral support?  For protection?  She denied me at every turn.  I even offered to send Mufasa with her.  She laughed, and denied that too.  One thing she can never be accused of is lacking courage.<br />
<br />
She has the courage to confront her husband and here I am afraid to face my boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend.  He’s more than that though.  He’s my friend and I still love him.  It’s just that, I’m not <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">his</span> friend.<br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="white">Four Days Ago</font></div>
<br />
I sit on the sofa in the residence watching TV like a normal person as I unwind from a particularly tedious day as leader of the Illuminatus Nation.  Liz curled up beside me, Frankie lying on the floor playing something on his iPad and using Mufasa as a pillow.  Mufasa is the more subdued of the two lions but he must sense a need for love in Frankie because ever since he came here, Mufasa doesn’t leave his side for too long.  I don’t know what I did to get so personally lucky.  I’ve tried to be ‘normal’ for almost my entire existence but somehow, nothing gives me normalcy like unwinding in front of the television with the woman I love and the nine year old boy I’m raising.  So, of course it’s gonna be interrupted right?<br />
<br />
The intercom phone rings from its position on the end table.  I look at it, noticing its the Gate House.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”What is it?”</font> I ask after hitting the appropriate button and muting the TV.<br />
<br />
<font color="purple">”Sir, there’s a Garrett Wentworth here requesting access,”</font> Karen, the Gate House security chief says.  I’m reminded that I told her I’d find her a job more fulfilling than boring Gate House chief.  I will fulfill that promise, but what’s more pressing is Garrett.<br />
<br />
I look at Liz, perplexed as to why he’d show up unannounced.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Oh my god,”</font> she says with a smirk.  <font color="pink">”I’m gonna meet the boyfriend!”</font> she says with probably a little too much excitement.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Whose boyfriend?”</font> Frankie asks without adverting his eyes from his game.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Mine,”</font> I tell him honestly.  I’m not going to lie to him or protect some false sense of ‘what ought to be’.  Love is love and it isn’t required to fit into some arbitrary box.  I will raise him that way.  Despite his own future sexual desires, he will learn to accept people as they are and not try and force others to conform to his ideal view of the world.<br />
<br />
Frankie stops all movement and slowly turns to look at me.<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”You like boys?”</font> he asks.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Bring him up, please Karen,”</font> I finally answer her.  <font color="gold">”I do, Frankie.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”But that’s...”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Just love, kiddo.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Boys can love other boys?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Of course, and girls can love other girls.”</font><br />
<br />
For what it’s worth, I don’t pick up any hints of what direction Frankie will go when he hits that age.  He’s still young yet.  Boys are cool, girls are still annoying.  That’s good though because I’m not ready to help him navigate that part of life just yet.<br />
<br />
The knock comes at the door and my heart races.  I hesitate, but Liz shoves my shoulder, urging me to the door.  With my hand on the knob, I sigh deeply and open it.  There he stands in all his beautiful glory and I’m flooded with regret and memories of a journey that started with me just trying to be there for him as he comes out to people he loves but ended up making me question my own view of things and ultimately saw him and I become… something so much more than just friends.<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="gold" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/gwtm27B.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: gwtm27B.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
I don’t regret that part.  He’s cute and I do love him, but obviously not as much as I should have.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You’re busy, so I’m gonna make this short,”</font> he says with a shaky voice.<br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Don’t be silly,”</font> Liz interrupts him.  <font color="pink">”Garrett, come in honey, have a seat.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I don’t think I will ma’am, but thank you.”</font><br />
<br />
I roll my eyes and grab him by his shirt collar and pull him into the residence.  I nod at Karen and close the door behind me.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I know you hate me Garrett,”</font> I begin as he fixes his shirt collar.  <font color="gold">”You have every right to but I need you to know how sorry I am for...”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Just stop Thad,”</font> he interrupts, holding up his palm.  <font color="green">”I didn’t come here to chat or catch up or for you to apologize.  I came here because John Adams is having commencement in a few days and a lot of people were requesting your presence, so here I am.<br />
<br />
“Despite my better judgment, I’m here to ask you to come and speak at commencement.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”What’s commencement?”</font> Frankie interrupts.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Oh yeah, Garrett this is Liz and the little guy is Frankie,”</font> I say, introducing my family.  <font color="gold">”This is Garrett.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">”Hi Garrett, what’s commencement?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”It’s a ceremony for high school seniors that are graduating.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="pink">”Frankie honey, let’s leave Thad and Garrett alone to talk for a bit.”</font>  Liz takes Frankie and heads into the other room.  Mufasa follows Frankie.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”They didn’t have to go Thad, I’m not staying any longer than I have to.”</font><br />
<br />
I search for words but nothing comes.  I’m equal parts embarrassed, ashamed, guilty.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Man I gotta go, you gonna come or not?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Of course, I’ll be there,”</font> I answer him.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Good,”</font> he says as he turns for the door.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”You don’t have to go.  Stay, let’s talk.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”There’s nothing to say,”</font> he says, his voice cracking beneath the weight of emotion he’s been trying desperately to hide.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Let me hear it,”</font> I say to him as he opens the door.  He pauses a second and I know I’ve got him.  <font color="gold">”You have things weighing you down, Garrett, that have weighed you down for months.<br />
<br />
“Close that door, turn around, and tell me all the things you’ve wanted to say to me.”</font><br />
<br />
He closes the door, but doesn’t turn around.  He wipes what I assume is a tear from his eye.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I loved you,”</font> he says muffled by his overwhelming emotion.  <font color="green">”You helped me get through the hardest thing I have ever done when I was coming out.  You weren’t like me but you went to my families house with me.  You went to Pride with me.  You mocked the hecklers that were making fun of us.<br />
<br />
“You kissed me for fucks sake Thaddeus.<br />
<br />
“That’s when I knew I loved you.”</font><br />
<br />
I place my hand on his shoulder.  He reaches up and rips my hand away.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”</font> he yells as he turns around to look me in the eye.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I didn’t feel anything then,”</font> I reply to him honestly.  <font color="gold">”I was just being a friend.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Never?”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”No I mean at the parade, I didn’t feel anything for you.  I was only trying to make the hecklers as uncomfortable as possible.<br />
<br />
“It was that night in your room.<br />
<br />
“You were lying on the bed and I was playing on my phone on the floor.  You leaned over and hugged my neck and thanked me for being there for you.  You smelled of Irish Spring and I just remember that that was the moment I started wondering if I was into guys because I felt totally into you.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Clearly that didn’t last.”</font><br />
<br />
I say nothing.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Then you died.”</font>  His face is beet red and it occurs to me what this is really about.  It’s not the failed relationship that hurts him.  It happens to everyone.  <font color="green">”I was flipping channels and I was just about to text you.  I knew you were heading to Virginia to see your dad.<br />
<br />
“I knew you were flying.<br />
<br />
“Illuminatus One plunges into Long Island Sound.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”There’s nothing I can say...”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”Your plane was blown out of the fucking sky!  Everyone thought you were dead, Thaddeus!  I thought you were dead!  No calls!  No texts telling me you got out and were okay!  You didn’t think enough of me to let me know you were safe!  You just let everyone think you were dead and went about your life anonymously without a fucking single thought about any of us!”</font><br />
<br />
I told Jim.  But I’d rather not mention that now.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”I mourned you Thaddeus!  The guy I loved blown to bits and you allowed me to mourn and grieve and cry myself to sleep at night!<br />
<br />
“FUCK YOU MAN!”</font><br />
<br />
He throws himself to the floor, seated against the wall.  There’s nothing I can say that’ll make me right.  I wasn’t.  There’s nothing I can say that’ll make him feel okay with what happened or why I did what I did.  It was selfish of me and I’ll regret it until the day I actually do die.  I didn’t consider anyone’s feelings then except for my own.<br />
<br />
I lean down and sit beside him, pulling his head to my shoulder.  He resists a moment, but relents.  He clutches my hand with his and I thought he was going to tear my hand off of him like earlier, but he just squeezes tight and cries on my shoulder.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Garrett,”</font> I begin, choking back emotion.  <font color="gold">”You have every right to hate me and I get it.  If someone had done that to me...”</font>  I pause.  <font color="gold">”No apology is going to change what I did, man.  I know it doesn’t mean anything but I didn’t not care.<br />
<br />
“I saw you many times leaving flowers for Curt at the cemetery.  So many times I wanted to get out and run to you, but I was ashamed.”</font><br />
<br />
He looks up at me.<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You were there?”</font><br />
<br />
I only nod.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”Nothing will change what I did, Garrett.  I don’t know how to apologize for it, I don’t know how to even begin to beg your forgiveness for it.  I hurt you so bad by it.”</font><br />
<br />
He stands up and wipes his eyes before starting for the door again.<br />
<br />
<font color="gold">”I love you Garrett.  I never didn’t,”</font> I say as I stand up too.  <font color="gold">”I have no right to ask, but I’m going to anyway.  I know you can’t right now, but I’m asking you to find it in your heart to forgive me for what I did.  You didn’t deserve to be tossed aside like that and I surely don’t deserve to have it, much less ask for it.”</font><br />
<br />
<font color="green">”You’re right,”</font> he says as he opens the door.  <font color="green">”You don’t deserve it.”</font><br />
<br />
Just like that, Garrett Wentworth is gone.<br />
<br />
<hr class="mycode_hr" />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><font color="white">Present Day</font></div>
<br />
I can’t help but look at him.  He’s beside me and he hasn’t uttered a word to me and hasn’t so much as looked at me.  I deserve his hatred.  It hurts of course, but I was so extremely selfish to think that letting people that loved me think I was dead was something good to do.  It wasn’t, obviously.  That hurt him so terribly and I’ll never be able to wrap my head around the fact that I allowed myself to do it.  Not to him.  Despite his introduction into my life; trying to out me at school as Thaddeus Duke instead of the pseudonym I used as Jack Fitzgerald, he really is a good guy.  I say I’m a good guy.  I think I am, but my actions at times suggest otherwise.<br />
<br />
Even good people do bad things to those they love.  This commencement for John Adams Academy was delayed due to the virus that has gripped the world, but part of me regrets being here.  I hurt him so badly and I don’t even forgive myself for it yet I’m asking him to.<br />
<br />
What the fuck have I done?<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100%; height: 4px; color: gold; background-color: gold;" />
<br />
<font color="gold">Relentless.<br />
<br />
Guys, I made it to a second straight pay per view.  Are you shocked?<br />
<br />
I’m sure some people are.<br />
<br />
‘How long will it be until flaky Thaddeus Duke, flakes?’<br />
<br />
I got news for you, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not going anywhere.  Not now.  Not anytime soon.  The flaking days are over and I’m barely even warmed up.  I said I was here for the long haul and I meant it.  I’ve reclaimed my love for this business and it’s now right where it belongs- near the center of my universe.<br />
<br />
For a long time, I’ve been mocked and ridiculed for simply me being me.  For having the audacity to carry the same last name as my father while also trying to do what he did and leave a lasting impression in the hearts and minds of wrestling fans all over the world.  It used to bother me.  It used to piss me right the fuck off when someone would say ‘oh you’re living off your daddies name.’  But you know what?  My father was fuckin’ great.  Anyone who claims otherwise, is a fuckin’ fool.  See, I used to almost regret not changing my name when I entered wrestling because of the obvious comparisons.<br />
<br />
There is no comparison.  Sebastian Duke and Thaddeus Duke are entirely different people with entirely different styles and entirely different methods of operation.  I am my own man and I always have been.<br />
<br />
Greatness is the only similarity.<br />
<br />
I take my share of losses like most do in this business, but the one thing that always remains the same is when you see my name on the fuckin’ marquee, the stadium is filled, the crowd is loud, the television ratings and pay per view buyrates go up, because I give everything I have and then some to those that pay to see me do what I do better than anyone else in that ring.<br />
<br />
The fans know what I am, and that’s what matters to me.<br />
<br />
If it sounds like I’m inflating my own ego then you’re probably right.  No one in the industry is gonna put me over in the ring skills department because that’s just not what we’re supposed to do so, here I am putting myself over.  There isn’t a soul on this planet that can do the things I do in the way that I like to do them when the bell rings and I go to work.  No one.<br />
<br />
Certainly not Chris Page.<br />
<br />
Page thinks that because he handcuffed me to the ropes which allowed him to climb a ladder and win the TV title that that somehow means he’s better than me.  The fact of the matter is real simple: I beat me.  Chris Page didn’t.<br />
<br />
The fact of the matter is I challenged Chris Page to a match at Relentless and he refused stating he had ‘nothing to prove’ but I wholeheartedly disagree.  He claimed he had nothing to prove, but in reality, he’s now aware of what I can do in the ring and he wanted no part of him becoming second best.<br />
<br />
That’s the truth of it.<br />
<br />
Here’s the reality check, Chris.  Anytime I’m in that ring, whether its you staring across from me, or Bourbon or Chaos or anyone else, there is nowhere to go for you except second best.  First is already taken and I’m not giving it up.<br />
<br />
I have a renewed sense of focus, a renewed purpose and that’s not good for anyone but me.  I’m stronger, faster, smarter and more determined than I’ve ever been.  So you can paint your face with the false bravado and claim you have nothing to prove.<br />
<br />
You do.<br />
<br />
You know it.<br />
<br />
And you know you’ll fail to deliver on being the best because I’ve already planted the doubt in your mind that you’re better than me.  No one is, Chris.  That’s not ego, it’s straight fact.  If you refused to believe it before, you’re absolutely gonna believe it at Relentless when I beat you like the bitch you are.<br />
<br />
You could have manned up and accepted the challenge, but that’s not you.  It took me kicking your teeth down your throat for you to finally accept and that tells me that I’m in your head.<br />
<br />
Congratulations, Chris Page.  You’re the next contestant on the I’m Better Than You world tour.  You better bring your A plus game Page, because I have nothing but an A plus game.</font></span>]]></content:encoded>
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		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[let's boogie, friends.]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38188</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2020 21:45:01 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2504">The Freak</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38188</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/53O3hN9oAiI?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier;" class="mycode_font">[The scene doesn’t matter since nobody will care, it’s just Freak in some room somewhere, just standing in front of a green portrait of Mayor Of Flavortown. He’s dressed in his finest hoodie and sweatpants in 100 degree weather in some unknown state as he speaks.]<br />
<br />
The Freak Of W.R.E.A.M: <span style="color: #98FB98;" class="mycode_color">Hello all, I am The Freak who’s out here just enjoying my life where Relentless is taking place in. I thought I had no place on the card, but ever since I won the belt off Greggo (who kept insisting Eric had it); things had been looking up for me. I managed to become a more happier, sociopathic, odd man out all within this span of a few days here. Now, I  got to admit, that I had no idea I’d be in one of the most biggest PPV this company has to offer.<br />
<br />
Now, I’m defending it against Jim Jimson, the pinecone fucker who makes even Liam Roberts the John Cena of all losers in this place. The man, the myth, the bullshitter he is… god, know I know why he’s so over with these people, he makes them feel like he can score one over him. He makes Barry Horowitz look like a grand slam champion, with how many times he’s been on his back. The most claim he’s gotten was being a multi time HMW champion, which itself is a very meh kind of thing to acknowledge. <br />
<br />
Since this is the weapons match, I will make sure he doesn’t come out alive from that Saint Monica Pier, I can promise that he’ll be bloodied to the point that even Sharks will feast on his useless pinecone filled body of his, they’ll even want to spit him out for now having that right flavor in their sharp teeth. I am a kind of guy, who will make you reconsider you time in the Federweight division, and that Jim Jimson hadn’t seen what I can do to him. That guy, will learn who The Freak is, if I had to show it to Mastermind, Charlie… then hey, he’ll be my official prey on my Tour de Le Freak Of Pain on the 25th of August.  <br />
<br />
Jim Jimson, if you don’t know much about me, good that makes it even easier to make you scared of what I can do to you. I can even hang you by the Farris wheel, and let you swing until you end up back in that ring dizzy, or I can bash your brains in with a Chair until brain matter leaks out in the pier. There are SO many ways I can destroy you Jim, so I hope you and your so called fans will witness a live murder on the pier…<br />
<br />
You will not outlast me in my Weapon Playground, Jim…</span><br />
<br />
[End Transmission] </span>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/53O3hN9oAiI?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier;" class="mycode_font">[The scene doesn’t matter since nobody will care, it’s just Freak in some room somewhere, just standing in front of a green portrait of Mayor Of Flavortown. He’s dressed in his finest hoodie and sweatpants in 100 degree weather in some unknown state as he speaks.]<br />
<br />
The Freak Of W.R.E.A.M: <span style="color: #98FB98;" class="mycode_color">Hello all, I am The Freak who’s out here just enjoying my life where Relentless is taking place in. I thought I had no place on the card, but ever since I won the belt off Greggo (who kept insisting Eric had it); things had been looking up for me. I managed to become a more happier, sociopathic, odd man out all within this span of a few days here. Now, I  got to admit, that I had no idea I’d be in one of the most biggest PPV this company has to offer.<br />
<br />
Now, I’m defending it against Jim Jimson, the pinecone fucker who makes even Liam Roberts the John Cena of all losers in this place. The man, the myth, the bullshitter he is… god, know I know why he’s so over with these people, he makes them feel like he can score one over him. He makes Barry Horowitz look like a grand slam champion, with how many times he’s been on his back. The most claim he’s gotten was being a multi time HMW champion, which itself is a very meh kind of thing to acknowledge. <br />
<br />
Since this is the weapons match, I will make sure he doesn’t come out alive from that Saint Monica Pier, I can promise that he’ll be bloodied to the point that even Sharks will feast on his useless pinecone filled body of his, they’ll even want to spit him out for now having that right flavor in their sharp teeth. I am a kind of guy, who will make you reconsider you time in the Federweight division, and that Jim Jimson hadn’t seen what I can do to him. That guy, will learn who The Freak is, if I had to show it to Mastermind, Charlie… then hey, he’ll be my official prey on my Tour de Le Freak Of Pain on the 25th of August.  <br />
<br />
Jim Jimson, if you don’t know much about me, good that makes it even easier to make you scared of what I can do to you. I can even hang you by the Farris wheel, and let you swing until you end up back in that ring dizzy, or I can bash your brains in with a Chair until brain matter leaks out in the pier. There are SO many ways I can destroy you Jim, so I hope you and your so called fans will witness a live murder on the pier…<br />
<br />
You will not outlast me in my Weapon Playground, Jim…</span><br />
<br />
[End Transmission] </span>]]></content:encoded>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title><![CDATA[Chapter 5: Adam meet The Beast.]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38183</link>
			<pubDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2020 14:31:10 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2296">Chris Page</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38183</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="#9400d3" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Chapter 5: Adam meets The Beast</font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!”</font>  <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The screams of Adam Barker can be heard within the darkness as our scene fades in.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” CHRIS! HELP ME!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AdmiredImpressiveJohndory-max-1mb.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: AdmiredImpressiveJohndory-max-1mb.gif]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="https://media2.giphy.com/media/xULW8rv9NSbHaEe9Ak/source.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: source.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Nobody’s going to hear you, do yourself a favor and shut the fuck up.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Fire suddenly surrounds Adam who is revealed to be strapped to a stainless steel table with the Beast.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://staticg.sportskeeda.com/editor/2019/10/3b24e-15710973748561-500.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 3b24e-15710973748561-500.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris, oh my God please, please you have to help me!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Who is Chris? Chris isn’t here.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast starts to walk around towards the head of the table as Adam is stuck looking straight up in at a dimly lit light bulb that sways back and forth from the ceiling.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” What are you talking about?! YOU ARE CHRIS PAGE!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast slams both his fist down on the table beside both ears of Adam’s head before leaning om towards the right ear of Adam Barker’s head as he softly, methodically states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” That guy locked away and now I’m here to play.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Fear overcomes Adam as he starts to tremble on the table cause the Beast to laugh at Adam as he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;"> “What’s the matter? Did you scare? You should be; however, before playtime can begin you and I need to talk.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris, I know you’re in there somewhere… you gotta let me go.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The begging from Adam continues.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Let me help you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Help me? You’re on my table and from the looks of it, you’re the one that needs all the help. You can beg and plead all you wish but there’s nobody that’s going to help you.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” What do I call you? If I’m going to try to talk to you I at least can know your name.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast quickly lashes back at Adam.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Enjoy the fact you can speak while you can, I think I’ll cut your tongue out first.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast walks away from the table and into the darkness that consumes the massive room. The sounds of wheels rolling across a concrete floor can be heard as The Beast emerges pushing a small surgical table over towards the table.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” They call me The Beast, and I reside in all of you.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Where is Chris? Why are you here?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Oh I think you know why I’m here. Your friend Chris refused to look through your bullshit to see you for who you really are. Chris has come way too far without your distractions and we will be damned if you are going to show up and ride on coattails.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Where is Chris?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam continues to ask for Chris which only seems to draw the ire of The Beast.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” CHRIS DOESN’T EXIST RIGHT NOW!”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris does exist! He’s my friend and I deserve the chance to explain myself!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast leans over Adam looking down at Barker before showing Adam a scalpel</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” You had that chance, remember?”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast runs the blade of the scalpel down the right side of Adam’s cheek shedding the blood of Barker as it runs down the side of Adam’s face. The Beast places his left index finger under the small cut allowing Adam’s blood to run over the finger.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Now you’ve got me to contend with and unlike your little pal, I’m not a pussy.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam Barker manages to look directly into the eyes of The Beast.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris! I know you’re in there!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">A smirk graces the face of The Beast as he brings the scalpel towards the forehead of Adam and as he gets the blade inches within the skin the right hand of The Beast starts to slowly shake causing The Beast to draw his hand back and shake it. Adam sees his chance to coax back out his best friend.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Fight it, Chris! FIGHT IT!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast brings the scalpel back towards the face of Adam Barker and once again as it gets close to the skin of Adam we see the right hand start to shake. Suddenly the lights begin to start to dim.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” COME ON CHRIS! FIGHT IT!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The dimming lights go dark for several second only to come back up to reveal…</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://wrestling-edge.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/chris-jericho-life-at-complex-clip.jpeg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: chris-jericho-life-at-complex-clip.jpeg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” CHRIS! Holy shit I can’t believe that worked! Get me out of here!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Wait, where the fuck are we? Why are you strapped to a table? What happened in the limo”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” I’ll explain as soon as we’re out of here!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris, confused and a little disoriented steps away from the table while dropping the scalpel as Adam continues to beg for help.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” You have to help me, Chris!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris regains his composure before walking toward the table where he removes the strap from the forehead and followed by the shoulders as he feverishly states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Did I do this to you?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Not you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris reaches the sternum and then the upper thighs removing the straps before finally the ankles. Adam tosses his legs over the side of the table before leaping off to the safety of the concrete floor.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Come on! We have to get out of here!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Fear is instilled in the voice of Adam as he and Chris walk across the empty warehouse. Adam is looking around, paranoid of the surroundings.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” What the hell is going on?!?!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” We have to get out of here, now!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris stops in his tracks as he snatches Adam by the right shoulder spinning him around.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” I hate to break the news, you have split personalities… and The Beast isn’t anything nice to deal with.</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” What?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Sounds crazy but you and Robert both have split personalities and those split personalities apparently are known as The Beast and The Omega; those personalities brought me here to kill me!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You been hittin’ my bong?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam frantically tries to get Chris to listen.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” As crazy as it sounds it’s true; Robert has been trying to get you to turn on me. He saw it wasn’t working so The Omega and The Beast emerged.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Do you hear yourself?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris asks.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Do you hear what you’re saying?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The sound of metal hitting the ground behind Chris and Adam take their attention…</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/87ae12f9504c10713f4aec7c61f16384/tumblr_po9wydT1s71qj6sk2o4_500.gifv" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: tumblr_po9wydT1s71qj6sk2o4_500.gifv]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Who’s there?!?!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam stands behind Page as he says.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” I have a feeling this is about to go to a completely different level.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” SHOW YOURSELF!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/db0d505d4ece83f7f3c5d0b0160cb57b/373b0fd0282637bb-be/s500x750/fe503138e812ffe2d35e3ca92d85dca898c5f013.gifv" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: fe503138e812ffe2d35e3ca92d85dca898c5f013.gifv]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” Hi Chris, nice to meet you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Who the fuck are you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” The Omega… I don’t want to hurt you.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Omega points behind Chris at Adam.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” He’s the reason we’re here, and if you let him go you’ll never know the truth about why he’s really back.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Don’t listen to him Chris, we can make a break for it right now.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Omega snickers to himself upon hearing Adam Barker.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” That’s what he wants Chris, he wants to continue hiding his indiscretions… it’s because of your weakness that you refuse to see it, I had to call upon the Beast… but it seems that even the Beast wasn’t ready to play.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Omega steps out of the shadows and stands across the room ready to square off for the soul of Adam Barker.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange"> “You’ve got two options; step aside and let me bring the truth out of him… or stand in the way forcing me to destroy you too.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris looks across the warehouse at The Omega as he simply states as he raises up both fists.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Game on mother fucker.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">… TO BE CONTINUED.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="#9400d3" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Words from the Stoned One:<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XliHH5Wc_q0?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
</font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You wasn’t smart enough to leave it alone, was you Thad?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene opens to reveal the XWF Television and one half of the XWF Tag Team Champions sitting in the isolation of his hotel suite in Santa Monica. Both of Chris’s tiles are sitting up facing the camera on a dresser behind him. The camera shot is an upper-body shot as we see Chris wearing a t-shirt that has bold print which reads “Thad’s my bitch”.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You could grasp the realization that I outsmarted you and took away the Television Championship; so like a hooker chasing after a John you’ve challenged me, you’ve stalked me just to get that one crack at proving to yourself that you got what it takes to stand in the ring and deal with someone of my stature.”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a soft sigh from Chris.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You’re childish and you’re incredibly immature… a tad bit delusional as well; however, our paths have crossed and I’m going to give you one last crack at trying your hand against the true ring general that is Chris FUCKING Page.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris intently looks into the camera as he then states.</span>   <font color="green">” Be careful with what you wish for, now you’re going to get it.”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris leans back in his chair as he runs his left hand through his hair across the top of his scalp before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” So regardless of how we got here; and while this is a complete waste of my time I’m going to show up on Santa Monica Pier and FINISH what you started; not being content with being told no is one thing… hitting me with a Superkick like a Lil bitch sneaking in from behind; doesn’t sound like the actions of a man of the people, does it? Being bad feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">” Chris intently gazes into the camera before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You’re welcome.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a very brief pause from Chris before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” See what happens when you cave into a side of your personality you never tapped into…. Never knew existed, it opens you up to notions you never thought about. So you’re welcome for causing you to tap into a darker side of your human self for it’s actually made you more desirable to watch in the ring. Let’s face it, the goodie shtick just wasn’t cutting it anymore, was it? What the rest of the world fails to realize rests with the fact that YOU need me.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a sly smirk from Chris before he continues.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Your actions leading us to this point dictate that statement to be true. You need me to feel that void you’ve found within yourself because in six short weeks I’ve made you more relevant than you’ve ever been, and while I’ll be the first to admit my initial intentions were to use your body to send a very loud and clear message to that uncle of yours… but now my intentions include embarrassing you on the single biggest weekend of the year for this company. The eyes of the wrestling world will be focused on Relentless, and on night one we’re going to give the world a WRESTLING match of a lifetime.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris leans forward as his elbows rest on his knees.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”  What I’m going to look forward to more than punching you in the face rests with unlike our previous encounter I’m not going to be rushed, we’re not going to be confined to fifteen minutes. I’m going to work a slow, methodical pace in which every move, every submission I conjure up in my mind in order to put you in as much pain as humanly possible…”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris softly continues with a methodical tone to his voice.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You’re going to rue the fucking day you ever thought you were capable of being on my level because the sad truth is you’re not, you never were. So now here we stand poised to Main Event Night One of Relentless… you’re welcome by the way, without me you wouldn’t be sniffing the Main Event spotlight when you’ve literally won one fucking match since Leap of Faith; kudos.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris leans back relaxing in his chair before he continues.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” And while you got past Chris Chaos, who hasn’t? Now the brightest light of them all is shining down upon you as you step on Santa Monica Pier with aspirations of victory dancing through your head and consuming your each and every move because make no mistake about it you NEED to pull a win for another loss in a high profile situation such as this will kill what credibility you’re trying so desperately to attain off of my legacy and my accomplishments. I have been in this business for nearly thirty years and I’ve stayed on top of this profession because of my ability to adapt with the times, but there is something that sparks my interest more so than any other match or Main Event I’m involved in over the course of the weekend…”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">A momentary pause from Chris before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” I pride myself on being one of the greatest Professional Wrestlers of all time and I’ve made a point to stress this companies knack for attaching too many gimmicks to too many matches that the entire art of the gimmick itself becomes moot. Case in point, how can I get excited to see Sarah Lacklan decapitate Charlie Nichols in a Ladder Match when I’ve seen a fucking Ladder match on just about every goddamn show?! No gimmicks needed come Relentless Night One ladies and gentleman; you want to see Professional Wrestling at its finest; purchase Night One and you’ll be treated to just that… and while I don’t want to be there I’m showing up to prove a point not only to Thaddeus but to the rest of the goddamn locker room wrong when they say I need Robert Main, the only thing I need is the space and opportunity and I’ll continue adding to the legendary legacy that I have carved for myself throughout my career.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris shifts to a more serious tone as he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">“ Thad you’re going to regret the day you knocked on my door and tried to pick a fight with someone who is flat out better than you on all fronts. I’m going to not only use this as a way to steal the entire fucking show on the first goddamn night but also to send a friendly reminder to the rest of you fucking clowns exactly why I am the straw that stirs the drink, why I have not taken a back seat to anyone since I saved this federation from the boring and desperate state I found it in a little over a year ago. Over the course of the weekend I’m going make up for a lost time; last year I refused to take part in the shit show that unfolded, this year I make Relentless weekend the weekend of Chris Page! I’m competing in three separate matches and all of them are going to be different. Not only are they going to all be different but they’re all going to end the same fucking way… with my arm raised in victory. I mean what better way to say fuck you to all of you than by showing up and showing out while cramming my likeness down your fucking throats, bitches.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris winks as the scene slowly fades to black.</span><br />
</div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align"><center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="#9400d3" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Chapter 5: Adam meets The Beast</font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!”</font>  <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The screams of Adam Barker can be heard within the darkness as our scene fades in.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” CHRIS! HELP ME!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AdmiredImpressiveJohndory-max-1mb.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: AdmiredImpressiveJohndory-max-1mb.gif]" class="mycode_img" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="https://media2.giphy.com/media/xULW8rv9NSbHaEe9Ak/source.gif" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: source.gif]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Nobody’s going to hear you, do yourself a favor and shut the fuck up.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Fire suddenly surrounds Adam who is revealed to be strapped to a stainless steel table with the Beast.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://staticg.sportskeeda.com/editor/2019/10/3b24e-15710973748561-500.jpg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: 3b24e-15710973748561-500.jpg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris, oh my God please, please you have to help me!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Who is Chris? Chris isn’t here.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast starts to walk around towards the head of the table as Adam is stuck looking straight up in at a dimly lit light bulb that sways back and forth from the ceiling.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” What are you talking about?! YOU ARE CHRIS PAGE!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast slams both his fist down on the table beside both ears of Adam’s head before leaning om towards the right ear of Adam Barker’s head as he softly, methodically states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” That guy locked away and now I’m here to play.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Fear overcomes Adam as he starts to tremble on the table cause the Beast to laugh at Adam as he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;"> “What’s the matter? Did you scare? You should be; however, before playtime can begin you and I need to talk.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris, I know you’re in there somewhere… you gotta let me go.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The begging from Adam continues.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Let me help you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Help me? You’re on my table and from the looks of it, you’re the one that needs all the help. You can beg and plead all you wish but there’s nobody that’s going to help you.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” What do I call you? If I’m going to try to talk to you I at least can know your name.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast quickly lashes back at Adam.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Enjoy the fact you can speak while you can, I think I’ll cut your tongue out first.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast walks away from the table and into the darkness that consumes the massive room. The sounds of wheels rolling across a concrete floor can be heard as The Beast emerges pushing a small surgical table over towards the table.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” They call me The Beast, and I reside in all of you.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Where is Chris? Why are you here?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Oh I think you know why I’m here. Your friend Chris refused to look through your bullshit to see you for who you really are. Chris has come way too far without your distractions and we will be damned if you are going to show up and ride on coattails.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Where is Chris?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam continues to ask for Chris which only seems to draw the ire of The Beast.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” CHRIS DOESN’T EXIST RIGHT NOW!”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris does exist! He’s my friend and I deserve the chance to explain myself!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast leans over Adam looking down at Barker before showing Adam a scalpel</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” You had that chance, remember?”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast runs the blade of the scalpel down the right side of Adam’s cheek shedding the blood of Barker as it runs down the side of Adam’s face. The Beast places his left index finger under the small cut allowing Adam’s blood to run over the finger.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green"><span style="font-family:'verdana';font-weight:bold;font-size:8pt;color:#708b8f;text-shadow: 0 0 9px #b11111;">” Now you’ve got me to contend with and unlike your little pal, I’m not a pussy.”</font></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam Barker manages to look directly into the eyes of The Beast.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Chris! I know you’re in there!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">A smirk graces the face of The Beast as he brings the scalpel towards the forehead of Adam and as he gets the blade inches within the skin the right hand of The Beast starts to slowly shake causing The Beast to draw his hand back and shake it. Adam sees his chance to coax back out his best friend.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Fight it, Chris! FIGHT IT!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Beast brings the scalpel back towards the face of Adam Barker and once again as it gets close to the skin of Adam we see the right hand start to shake. Suddenly the lights begin to start to dim.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” COME ON CHRIS! FIGHT IT!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The dimming lights go dark for several second only to come back up to reveal…</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://wrestling-edge.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/chris-jericho-life-at-complex-clip.jpeg" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: chris-jericho-life-at-complex-clip.jpeg]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” CHRIS! Holy shit I can’t believe that worked! Get me out of here!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Wait, where the fuck are we? Why are you strapped to a table? What happened in the limo”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” I’ll explain as soon as we’re out of here!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris, confused and a little disoriented steps away from the table while dropping the scalpel as Adam continues to beg for help.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” You have to help me, Chris!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris regains his composure before walking toward the table where he removes the strap from the forehead and followed by the shoulders as he feverishly states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Did I do this to you?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Not you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris reaches the sternum and then the upper thighs removing the straps before finally the ankles. Adam tosses his legs over the side of the table before leaping off to the safety of the concrete floor.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Come on! We have to get out of here!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Fear is instilled in the voice of Adam as he and Chris walk across the empty warehouse. Adam is looking around, paranoid of the surroundings.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” What the hell is going on?!?!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” We have to get out of here, now!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris stops in his tracks as he snatches Adam by the right shoulder spinning him around.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” I hate to break the news, you have split personalities… and The Beast isn’t anything nice to deal with.</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” What?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Sounds crazy but you and Robert both have split personalities and those split personalities apparently are known as The Beast and The Omega; those personalities brought me here to kill me!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You been hittin’ my bong?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam frantically tries to get Chris to listen.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” As crazy as it sounds it’s true; Robert has been trying to get you to turn on me. He saw it wasn’t working so The Omega and The Beast emerged.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Do you hear yourself?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris asks.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Do you hear what you’re saying?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The sound of metal hitting the ground behind Chris and Adam take their attention…</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/87ae12f9504c10713f4aec7c61f16384/tumblr_po9wydT1s71qj6sk2o4_500.gifv" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: tumblr_po9wydT1s71qj6sk2o4_500.gifv]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Who’s there?!?!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Adam stands behind Page as he says.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” I have a feeling this is about to go to a completely different level.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” SHOW YOURSELF!”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="red" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white"><img src="https://66.media.tumblr.com/db0d505d4ece83f7f3c5d0b0160cb57b/373b0fd0282637bb-be/s500x750/fe503138e812ffe2d35e3ca92d85dca898c5f013.gifv" loading="lazy"  alt="[Image: fe503138e812ffe2d35e3ca92d85dca898c5f013.gifv]" class="mycode_img" /></font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” Hi Chris, nice to meet you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Who the fuck are you…”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” The Omega… I don’t want to hurt you.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Omega points behind Chris at Adam.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” He’s the reason we’re here, and if you let him go you’ll never know the truth about why he’s really back.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="dodgerblue">” Don’t listen to him Chris, we can make a break for it right now.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Omega snickers to himself upon hearing Adam Barker.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange">” That’s what he wants Chris, he wants to continue hiding his indiscretions… it’s because of your weakness that you refuse to see it, I had to call upon the Beast… but it seems that even the Beast wasn’t ready to play.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The Omega steps out of the shadows and stands across the room ready to square off for the soul of Adam Barker.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="orange"> “You’ve got two options; step aside and let me bring the truth out of him… or stand in the way forcing me to destroy you too.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris looks across the warehouse at The Omega as he simply states as he raises up both fists.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Game on mother fucker.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b">… TO BE CONTINUED.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><table cellpadding="30" border="1" bordercolor="#9400d3" width="60%"><tr><td align="center" bgcolor="black"><font color="white">Words from the Stoned One:<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XliHH5Wc_q0?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
</font></td></tr></table></center><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You wasn’t smart enough to leave it alone, was you Thad?”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">The scene opens to reveal the XWF Television and one half of the XWF Tag Team Champions sitting in the isolation of his hotel suite in Santa Monica. Both of Chris’s tiles are sitting up facing the camera on a dresser behind him. The camera shot is an upper-body shot as we see Chris wearing a t-shirt that has bold print which reads “Thad’s my bitch”.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You could grasp the realization that I outsmarted you and took away the Television Championship; so like a hooker chasing after a John you’ve challenged me, you’ve stalked me just to get that one crack at proving to yourself that you got what it takes to stand in the ring and deal with someone of my stature.”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a soft sigh from Chris.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You’re childish and you’re incredibly immature… a tad bit delusional as well; however, our paths have crossed and I’m going to give you one last crack at trying your hand against the true ring general that is Chris FUCKING Page.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris intently looks into the camera as he then states.</span>   <font color="green">” Be careful with what you wish for, now you’re going to get it.”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris leans back in his chair as he runs his left hand through his hair across the top of his scalp before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” So regardless of how we got here; and while this is a complete waste of my time I’m going to show up on Santa Monica Pier and FINISH what you started; not being content with being told no is one thing… hitting me with a Superkick like a Lil bitch sneaking in from behind; doesn’t sound like the actions of a man of the people, does it? Being bad feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">” Chris intently gazes into the camera before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You’re welcome.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a very brief pause from Chris before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” See what happens when you cave into a side of your personality you never tapped into…. Never knew existed, it opens you up to notions you never thought about. So you’re welcome for causing you to tap into a darker side of your human self for it’s actually made you more desirable to watch in the ring. Let’s face it, the goodie shtick just wasn’t cutting it anymore, was it? What the rest of the world fails to realize rests with the fact that YOU need me.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">There’s a sly smirk from Chris before he continues.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” Your actions leading us to this point dictate that statement to be true. You need me to feel that void you’ve found within yourself because in six short weeks I’ve made you more relevant than you’ve ever been, and while I’ll be the first to admit my initial intentions were to use your body to send a very loud and clear message to that uncle of yours… but now my intentions include embarrassing you on the single biggest weekend of the year for this company. The eyes of the wrestling world will be focused on Relentless, and on night one we’re going to give the world a WRESTLING match of a lifetime.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris leans forward as his elbows rest on his knees.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">”  What I’m going to look forward to more than punching you in the face rests with unlike our previous encounter I’m not going to be rushed, we’re not going to be confined to fifteen minutes. I’m going to work a slow, methodical pace in which every move, every submission I conjure up in my mind in order to put you in as much pain as humanly possible…”</font> <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris softly continues with a methodical tone to his voice.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” You’re going to rue the fucking day you ever thought you were capable of being on my level because the sad truth is you’re not, you never were. So now here we stand poised to Main Event Night One of Relentless… you’re welcome by the way, without me you wouldn’t be sniffing the Main Event spotlight when you’ve literally won one fucking match since Leap of Faith; kudos.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris leans back relaxing in his chair before he continues.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” And while you got past Chris Chaos, who hasn’t? Now the brightest light of them all is shining down upon you as you step on Santa Monica Pier with aspirations of victory dancing through your head and consuming your each and every move because make no mistake about it you NEED to pull a win for another loss in a high profile situation such as this will kill what credibility you’re trying so desperately to attain off of my legacy and my accomplishments. I have been in this business for nearly thirty years and I’ve stayed on top of this profession because of my ability to adapt with the times, but there is something that sparks my interest more so than any other match or Main Event I’m involved in over the course of the weekend…”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">A momentary pause from Chris before he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">” I pride myself on being one of the greatest Professional Wrestlers of all time and I’ve made a point to stress this companies knack for attaching too many gimmicks to too many matches that the entire art of the gimmick itself becomes moot. Case in point, how can I get excited to see Sarah Lacklan decapitate Charlie Nichols in a Ladder Match when I’ve seen a fucking Ladder match on just about every goddamn show?! No gimmicks needed come Relentless Night One ladies and gentleman; you want to see Professional Wrestling at its finest; purchase Night One and you’ll be treated to just that… and while I don’t want to be there I’m showing up to prove a point not only to Thaddeus but to the rest of the goddamn locker room wrong when they say I need Robert Main, the only thing I need is the space and opportunity and I’ll continue adding to the legendary legacy that I have carved for myself throughout my career.”</font>  <span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris shifts to a more serious tone as he states.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<font color="green">“ Thad you’re going to regret the day you knocked on my door and tried to pick a fight with someone who is flat out better than you on all fronts. I’m going to not only use this as a way to steal the entire fucking show on the first goddamn night but also to send a friendly reminder to the rest of you fucking clowns exactly why I am the straw that stirs the drink, why I have not taken a back seat to anyone since I saved this federation from the boring and desperate state I found it in a little over a year ago. Over the course of the weekend I’m going make up for a lost time; last year I refused to take part in the shit show that unfolded, this year I make Relentless weekend the weekend of Chris Page! I’m competing in three separate matches and all of them are going to be different. Not only are they going to all be different but they’re all going to end the same fucking way… with my arm raised in victory. I mean what better way to say fuck you to all of you than by showing up and showing out while cramming my likeness down your fucking throats, bitches.”</font><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;" class="mycode_i">Chris winks as the scene slowly fades to black.</span><br />
</div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[The Sweetest Feeling]]></title>
			<link>https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38174</link>
			<pubDate>Sat, 12 Sep 2020 21:13:52 -0700</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://xwf1999.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=2493">Charlie Nickles</a>]]></dc:creator>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38174</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">The scene opens with the champion sitting in a comfortable chair, the Heavymetalweight belt slung around his shoulder. Charlie's beaming with pride, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He takes a swig of whiskey from his tumbler. He smacks his lips with satisfaction as he places the now empty glass on the stool next to him. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">23 years of hard work, blood, broken bones....all for this right here.<br />
</span><br />
Charlie proudly taps his belt. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">I always imagined what this moment would feel like. I dreamed it would be blissful, orgasmic, amazing.....but in all my wildest dreams...I never could truly appreciate how sweet this feeling is. To be the champion....it gives you a feeling I never knew possible. All my fantasies, all my desires, my whole life has been dedicated to winning a championship...and I never even knew how good it would be. But how could I? <br />
</span><br />
Charlie chuckled to himself. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">You know....I have never been a champion before. Hard to believe, I know. But I could never get it done. I had a few chances, here and there, but it never came through. They always ended with the same feeling. <br />
</span><br />
Charlie's expression goes bare as his unblinking stare locks on to the camera. He leans forward. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">Despair. <br />
</span></span></span><br />
Charlie flips on a dime as a joyous smile spreads across his face. His eyebrows relax as he sits back in his chair.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">But shit, now I've never been more happy! I made it, momma! I did it, dad! I know they're looking down on their little Charlie, proud as can be. And God's standing there next to them. Watching over me. Looking down with his grace. All those years you thought I wouldn't make it. All those years you thought I would waste away, destroying my body and my mind inside the squared circle. <br />
</span><br />
Charlie stands up, his upper body going slightly out of frame as he lifts the championship belt to the sky.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">This one's for you, ma'! All those lashings, all those whoopings, they toughened me up! Got me where I needed to be! And Jesus...I couldn't do this without your blessings! <br />
</span><br />
Charlie sits back down in his chair, laying the belt across his lap as he refocuses on the camera.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">This belt right here...it shows everyone that I'm something. That my parents raised me right. I can never let it go. If I let this belt slip through my fingers...what am I saying about my mom and dad? <br />
</span><br />
Charlie shakes his head from side to side, emphasizing his dispute with the implication.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">But you know....I got my selfish reasons for keeping this belt too. When I used to go the club, the ladies would pay ol' Charlie no mind. But now? Shiiiiit. When I walk into that gentleman's club with this belt around my shoulder the little strippers flock to ol' Charlie. Cause they know I'm a champion. And they just assume I'm gonna tip em' well, as a champion does. But guess what?<br />
<br />
I still don't. <br />
</span></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div style="text-align: center;" class="mycode_align">The scene opens with the champion sitting in a comfortable chair, the Heavymetalweight belt slung around his shoulder. Charlie's beaming with pride, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He takes a swig of whiskey from his tumbler. He smacks his lips with satisfaction as he places the now empty glass on the stool next to him. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">23 years of hard work, blood, broken bones....all for this right here.<br />
</span><br />
Charlie proudly taps his belt. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">I always imagined what this moment would feel like. I dreamed it would be blissful, orgasmic, amazing.....but in all my wildest dreams...I never could truly appreciate how sweet this feeling is. To be the champion....it gives you a feeling I never knew possible. All my fantasies, all my desires, my whole life has been dedicated to winning a championship...and I never even knew how good it would be. But how could I? <br />
</span><br />
Charlie chuckled to himself. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">You know....I have never been a champion before. Hard to believe, I know. But I could never get it done. I had a few chances, here and there, but it never came through. They always ended with the same feeling. <br />
</span><br />
Charlie's expression goes bare as his unblinking stare locks on to the camera. He leans forward. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;" class="mycode_size"><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mycode_b"><span style="color: #FF0000;" class="mycode_color">Despair. <br />
</span></span></span><br />
Charlie flips on a dime as a joyous smile spreads across his face. His eyebrows relax as he sits back in his chair.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">But shit, now I've never been more happy! I made it, momma! I did it, dad! I know they're looking down on their little Charlie, proud as can be. And God's standing there next to them. Watching over me. Looking down with his grace. All those years you thought I wouldn't make it. All those years you thought I would waste away, destroying my body and my mind inside the squared circle. <br />
</span><br />
Charlie stands up, his upper body going slightly out of frame as he lifts the championship belt to the sky.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">This one's for you, ma'! All those lashings, all those whoopings, they toughened me up! Got me where I needed to be! And Jesus...I couldn't do this without your blessings! <br />
</span><br />
Charlie sits back down in his chair, laying the belt across his lap as he refocuses on the camera.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">This belt right here...it shows everyone that I'm something. That my parents raised me right. I can never let it go. If I let this belt slip through my fingers...what am I saying about my mom and dad? <br />
</span><br />
Charlie shakes his head from side to side, emphasizing his dispute with the implication.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #DAA520;" class="mycode_color">But you know....I got my selfish reasons for keeping this belt too. When I used to go the club, the ladies would pay ol' Charlie no mind. But now? Shiiiiit. When I walk into that gentleman's club with this belt around my shoulder the little strippers flock to ol' Charlie. Cause they know I'm a champion. And they just assume I'm gonna tip em' well, as a champion does. But guess what?<br />
<br />
I still don't. <br />
</span></div>]]></content:encoded>
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