<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Relentless Day 3 RP Board 2020]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Thu, 14 May 2026 10:19:14 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Kings of Order & Queens of Chaos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38348 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 23:59:55 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38348 Charlie is sitting in the waiting room as he scrolls through his favorite social media sites with his iphonemax. He is dressed in ill fitting khaki pants, a red polo stained with mustard and barbeque sauce, and a pair of sneakers that have definitely seen brighter days. He opened up his DMs and found a rather rude and salty message from an online mark, probably Greggo in disguise, but his profile name was Lacklan_Lover69.

Lacklan_Lover69: You idiot! You big dumb goof! You’re not quoting Jean-Paul Lacklan, you’re quoting DEX! AKA TRAGIK! AKA Sarah’s great friend, follower of Jean-Paul, and former member of the Path of the Light Church and the guy Sarah paid to do the intro to her jeopardy video! Idiot!

Charlie scrunched his face as he typed his reply.

Charlie: What? What part was I wrong about? Was it not really JPL who said women don’t deserve to look men in the eye?

Lacklan_Lover69: Well no, JPL did say that…..

Charlie: What was I wrong about? Did JPL not say that women have no place in the wrestling business?

Lacklan_Lover69: Well no, JPL said that too….

Charlie: What was I wrong about? Did JPL actually secretly like gay people and lesbian sex scenes?

Lacklan_Lover69: Well..no…..JPL hated both of those things….

Charlie: What was I “misquoting” then?

Lacklan_Lover69: One of the things on twitter! It wasn’t JPL talking about raping transgender people, it was Tragik AKA Dex AKA the close family friend of the Lacklans who was following JPL’s church when he released that little video about hating jews and wanting to rape people!

Charlie: Oh…..I misattributed a quote or something on twitter?

Lacklan_Lover69: YEAH! IDIOT! FOOL! FATSO! 11!! JOBBER!!111!!!1111

Charlie rolled his eyes as he blocked the man he presumed to be Greggo.

Nurse: Charlie...Charlie?

Charlie’s ears perked up and his head elevated to meet the gaze of the friendly nurse calling his name from behind the desk. He tucked his phone in his pocket as he stood up, pushing his fat body out of the chair with minimal effort. The bearded man approached the desk.

Nurse: Head back through the door right there. Dr. Peterson is in his office at the end of the hall.

Charlie nodded at the woman seated behind the desk. He walked past her through the open doorway into a long, mayonnaise colored hallway. Charlie looked down at his reflection on the other side of the shiny linoleum floors. He wasn’t impressed with the man he saw. Charlie sighed as he walked to the end of the hall. He pushed the oak door at the end of the hall slightly ajar and peered into the room.

[Image: yNBnK9r.jpg]

Charlie walked into the room as the gaunt doctor nodded at him. The elderly snake oil salesman spoke to Charlie, his voice sounding nearly identical to Kermit the Frog.

“Welcome, Charlie. Come, take a seat.”

The doctor gestured to the damn near identical couch positioned directly across the glass coffee table as he spoke. Charlie nodded in understanding.

“Good to see ya, doc.”

Charlie walked past as the coffee table. He took a seat directly next to Jordan Peterson. Charlie patted the good doctor on the thigh as he looked him in the eye.

“It feels good to be here, doc.”

Jordan Peterson scooted away looking at Charlie with a sour expression.

“Yes, yes….great to have you here.”

Jordan spoke with an undercurrent of sassy bitchiness as he got up and walked over to the other couch. He took an exasperated seat as he rubbed his hands against his knees. Jordan’s eyes shifted down to the glass table, which was stained with years of coffee spillage. Atop the table a pill bottle full of benzos stood tall next to a stack of books. Jordan Peterson coughed a few times into his hand before falling back into the comforts of his chair. The doctor’s gaze settled upon his new patient. In Charlie the Jungian doctor saw a familiar archetype: the magician. He knew he needed to craft Charlie into a ruler if he was ever going to survive this brutal world.

“Sorry for having to reschedule our meeting so many times, Charlie. A slavic man was running this office last week, pretending to be an esteemed psychological thinker. Spread mayonnaise all over the walls. We’re still washing it off. Slavs.”

Jordan Peterson shuddered as he stated the last word. His disdain for the slavic people was evident in his expression.

“Oh, Boris?”

“No...a fearsome man who goes only by Slavoj. But enough talk of the postmodern neomarxists. We are here to discuss YOU, Charlie. I’ve been paying attention, reading through your file. Watching your taped videos. Your life….seems like a cycle of chaos.”

Charlie nodded solemnly at the doctor’s prognosis.

“It is doc, it really is. And I have this pounding, throbbing pain in my head constantly...I ju-”

The doctor, who still sounds exactly like Kermit the Frog, interjected.

“I know, Charlie. I know everything that’s happened in your life these last two weeks. While earning my PhD in clinical psychology I learned to constantly be paying attention to developments in your client’s life. Even a first-time client. I’ve seen the troubles you’ve gone through. The pain you’ve suffered. You’re in the underworld, Charlie. The darkest depths of human existence. That chaotic place where hellfire and atrocity reign down upon you day after day. Your life has spiraled down, and now you find yourself in a pit. A pit of your own making.”

“It’s not my fault! That bitch Connie ruined me! And now Sarah has taken her place! All I can think about is her hair, falling down her pale face. Her red eyes staring up at me. Her soft flesh...she’s all I need! All I crave!”

The doctor shook his head from side to side as he chided Charlie.

“Just as the blind man does not see the monsters about to pull him into the pit of fire, you do not see the chaos dragons leading you astray. But Charlie, you’re not a blind man. You can see the ways of the world! See the evil wraiths that swim around you, hoping to bring you down into their sea of chaos.”

“Dragons? Wraiths? What the fuck are you talking about?”

The doctor shook his head from side to side as he smirked. A pretentious arrogance radiated from the man’s demeanor. He reached for the top book on the table, flipping it open to page 56. He set the page in front of Charlie, tapping the printed graphic on the page with his fingers so as to direct Charlie’s attention to it.

[Image: JyCZiIF.png]

“This right here Charlie? This is the way of the world. I wrote about it in my book, Maps of Meaning. It was the masterpiece of the 90s. I sold dozens of copies, mostly to close friends and family. This book is my magnum opus. Do you see, Charlie? Do you understand now?”

Charlie shook his head from side to side, not able to understand the gibberish that had somehow been printed by the book’s publisher.

“Worry not, Charlie. When I taught at Harvard many young, naïve, and stupid children had similar difficulties understanding my science. Look here, Charlie. Our world is formed from the tension between God and the void. Hierarchy and anarchy. Order and chaos. God is an all-powerful King, and when he made the world he made it only in order. We all know this story. Adam and Eve and the garden. Well, what happens Charlie?”

“Adam and Eve are tricked by Satan into eating forbidden fruit.”

“Close, but not quite, Charlie. Yes, Satan is involved. But how is he involved? Many people say he takes the form of the snake, but if you read the Bible, you see that’s not quite true, is it? In all factuality, the form Satan took was that of a dragon. It was only AFTER Eve conspired with Lucifer, Satan, whatever you will his name to be, to DECEIVE Adam into violating the divine order through forbidden consumption. It was only after this conspiracy that God condemned snakes to lay on their bellies. Before, they flew. In the air, with wings. That is the only way the devil was able to access the forbidden fruit! You see, many people do not know the true bible stories. Your common preacherman simply can’t comprehend the true meaning behind the words in their special books.”

Charlie nodded in false understanding.

“The garden of eden was built behind a massive wall. A wall guarded by an angel with a flaming sword. A snake could never get into the garden, the walls were too massive. But a dragon? Well, a dragon could fly right over that wall, grab an apple, and flee before being caught by the angel. Well, that’s just what Satan did! And then Satan turned the woman against the man. Women are mentally weaker, you know? More agreeable. More docile. They give in to pressures and negative emotions far more easily than men do. That’s what makes them harbingers of chaos. Eve fell right in line, and it was HER that convinced Adam to violate the divine order and eat the forbidden fruit. This is important, Charlie. Satan himself could not get Adam to turn on God. That was a power only Eve had. Do you understand what this means?”

Charlie nodded once again.

“Yeah, yeah….no.”

The doctor sighed.

“Look at this graph again, Charlie. See here. Do you see how God creates paradise? A walled garden of order?”

Charlie nods.

“Good, good. And see here, look. There is chaos outside of the garden, chaos pulling away at the seams of order itself, trying to break down the paradise. The dragons of chaos work tirelessly to destroy all that is. To undermine the order. To undermine life itself. Chaos dragons seek to plunge us into the underworld. And against Adam, they succeeded. That’s why we as a species lost our immortality. The chaos dragons stole it from us, working hand in hand with the devil himself to drive us into the matriarchal world of darkness. The tale of Adam and Eve is a cautionary tale, Charlie. And it’s one you need to learn from.”

Charlie looked at the doctor with naivete, hoping to glean the information Jordan sought to provide.

“Adam could not see that Eve was a harbinger of chaos, that Eve was working hand in hand with the dark forces in this world to bring him into the darkness. Simply put, Adam did not see that Eve was a chaos dragon. As such, he did not seek to put her back in order. He did not fulfill man’s obligation of becoming the ‘ruler’. Instead, he acted as you do, Charlie. As an ill-fitting archetype, not suited to the realities of the world. Adam acted as the explorer, constantly yearning for new sensations and experiences. But that’s not you, Charlie. You are acting out an entirely different role in this life. You, Charlie, have fallen into the pit of the magician. It’s a sad place to be, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“The magician archetype always tries to make something special out of the world. Instead of defending the tangible order, the magician seeks to create and fulfill a dream that could never be realized. You chase after this Sarah woman like a madman. You are trying to create a life with her that could never exist. No matter what you say to her or what you do for her, you will never receive her love.”

“NO! Sarah WILL come to love me! Our matrimony is ordained by God!”

“No it isn’t!”

The doctor spoke simply and assertively.

“Honestly Charlie, where did you even get that notion from? It is absolutely ridiculous on its face. God made Adam and Eve in matrimony, did he not?”

Charlie considered the question for a few moments. Jordan moved on without an answer.

“But did Eve love Adam? No! She betrayed him, worked with the devil to bring about chaos and destroy the walled garden. And now? Now God’s plans have been blown up! Shattered into tiny pieces of order spaced out in a galaxy of chaos. But your response is exactly the response I would expect from the magician. You are trying to recreate God’s plan. Trying to create something new, something special with the world that has been left to us. It will never work. The chaos dragons feed off of that naivete. How can you possibly hope to defeat Sarah in a match if you expect her to love you, if you expect her to submit to you? You can’t!”

Jordan let the point sink in before continuing on.

“This devotion you have for Sarah? It works to her advantage. And she knows that. She’s happy to see it, as the chaos dragons are always happy to see a man fall into disorder. And then whe’s he at his lowest, totally at their whim, they destroy him. That’s why the magicians can never make it in this world. In order to conquer Sarah and take your rightful place as universal champion, you must fulfill the archetype of the ruler. You must become a King of Order.”

“A King of Order?”

Jordan Peterson sighed in exasperation as his words falled to get through to Charlie. The doctor flipped to page 235 of his book, revealing another whacko graphic.

[Image: 49sY0XP.jpg]


“This right here, Charlie? This is the myth of redemption. This is the way forward. The way a magician becomes a King of Order. Do you understand now what you must do?”

Charlie shook his head from side to side, a confused but entranced look in his eye. The doctor sighed as he reached for his pill bottle. He opened the cap and popped two pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He exhaled with satisfaction as he set the pill bottle back on the table and tossed the cap to the floor.

“The King of Order is able to wade through the world undeterred by the dragons, sirens, and temptations that drag most men to their doom. The King of Order stands up to the Queen of Chaos, overcomes her, dethrones her, and sets the world right again. He keeps the hierarchy intact. He is able to reintegrate a dragon of chaos into the divine order, and by doing so he creates a state of gold. A little walled paradise all his own. God will not do this for the King of Order, but it is holy and divine. A King of Order is a strong and mighty man. Organized, disciplined, and powerful. Able to exert his will on the world absolutely. The King of Order is able to take on a chaos dragon and make her an honest woman. I did that with my wife and Igor did the same to my daughter.”

“That’s what I’m doing with Sarah, doc! I’m going to make her an honest woman!”

The doctor shook his head from side to side derisively.

“Don’t you see, Charlie?! She’s a Queen of Chaos! This is exactly the mistake of the magician. Attempting to create a special bond with a Queen of Chaos. It can’t be done, but by trying to magically change the chaos before you you are making sure that she eats you for dinner and takes you for all you got. A King of Order knows better than to try and tame a Queen of Chaos. It simply can’t be done. You must defeat her and then move on from her. After you destroy her you have to keep wading through the hellscape we find ourselves trapped in, preserving order with each and every step you take as the universal champion of the wrestling industry.”

Charlie nodded his head in acceptance and understanding. He winced as a brief throbbing of pain shot through his skull.

“But..what about my head, doc? It hurts so bad, all the time.”

The doctor leaned forward, stroking his chin for a few moments. Then, the lightbulb in his mind flashed on.

“It’s simple, Charlie. The pain you feel within your skull? It’s the attempt of the King of Order to come through and save the day. The archetypes live inside us, Charlie. Their personas are deeply interwoven with our psyche. You have let the magician take hold, but the King of Order wants to make you right. Put you back in order and prepare you for the task ahead. Prepare you for the albino dragon you’re set to share the stage with tomorrow night. Let him out, Charlie. Let the King put the XWF back in order.”

Charlie nodded as a look of confidence washed over him. Then, a brief hint of confusion made it’s way into the wrinkles on his face.

“But how do you know so much about wrestling? I thought most doctors didn’t really like the sport.”

“Oh, how could I not?”

Jordan Peterson closed Maps of Meaning and put it to the side. He grabbed another book and passed it to his patient. Charlie looked down at the book and chuckled.

“Assorted Analysis and Essays by Big D? Are you serious?”

The doctor was deadly serious.

“This is no laughing matter, Charlie. There are essential words of wisdom in that classic.”

Charlie shrugged, handing the book back to the doctor. Charlie never knew that Big D was such an accomplished scholar, but then again, Charlie doesn’t know most things.

“What must I do to become a King of Order?”

“You must conquer the chaos in your life.”

“But...how? The women, I understand: conquer the chaos dragons and defeat the queens of chaos. But what about the other struggles? How….how do I stay off the drugs? When I was only focused on Sarah, it was easy. I didn’t need the drugs if I knew I could have her. But...now? If I must destroy her? How do I avoid falling back into that downwards cycle?”

“Just don’t get addicted.”

Jordan Peterson reached once more for the bottle of benzos. He plucked a few more into his mouth, swallowing them dry.

“It’s not that easy!”

“Sure it is!”

Jordan Peterson grabbed a handful more of pills and swallowed them like a first grader eating halloween candy.

“Us Kings of Order? We can control the drugs. We set them in line, make them work for us. We don’t fall into addiction because we have the mental fortitude of giants.”

Jordan leaned back in his chair as his eyes got glossy and his heart slowed. His vision got a bit blurry, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Those idiots at the rehab clinic my bitch of a wife sent me to didn’t understand the world. They didn’t understand the archetypes. But you and me, Charlie? We understand perfectly. We can walk the borders between chaos and order. Between life and death. And come out as stronger men. More righteous kings.”

Jordan and Charlie nodded at each other in agreement. Suddenly Jordan began to spasm, his muscles tremoring as a white fizzy liquid began to run down his chin. His body shook and convulsed for several seconds. His legs kicked against the glass coffee table, knocking over his bottle of pills. The little benzos spilled all over the floor as some blood began to drip from Jordan’s nose. Charlie cried out with concern as he reached across the table to grab the doctor.

“Doc, doc! Are you ok?! Nurse, nurse!”

A few more seconds passed before the shaking ceased. As Jordan came to he pushed Charlie back. The doctor rubbed the white fluid off of his chin with the sleeve of his shirt.

“That was my choice. I don’t need a nurse.”

“Wh-what?”

Jordan slowly rolled his eyes as he began to regain control of his muscles.

“I’m not addicted, I am a King of Order. We don’t get addicted, we don’t have seizures. We are in control of our worlds at all times. Do you get it now, Charlie?”

Charlie pondered for a few moments, quietly reflecting on this therapy session. The reflections were brought to a grinding halt as a disorienting pain shot through his skull. Charlie leaned forward, rubbing his cranium with both hands. He massaged his skull, weaving his fingers through his thick locks of hair. The pain seemed endless. All noise was drowned out. All sensation was lost from his body as the painful throbbing echoed throughout the man’s nervous system.

Then the pain was gone.

No, not gone. Reduced. Charlie still felt a tingling throb behind his eyes as he tried to reorient himself into this chaotic world. His body felt warm and free of fabric. He wiggled his toes as something passed through the gaps. The warm liquid felt soothing. A simple melody wiggled into Charlie's ears, sparking his imagination and bringing him back to his senses.



As Charlie opened his eyes he realized he was in a dimly lit bathroom, sitting in a tub full of warm water and a whole bunch of bubbles. He looked over to the sink across the room. A small black radio was seated on the back of the toilet. Charlie turned his head as looked down at his hands. Both hands were held up to Charlie’s chest, fully out of the reach of the waves below. In his left hand he held a white bic lighter that was almost out of juice. In his right hand a crack pipe with a whole lot left in it was just waiting to be smoked. Charlie winced as the pain came back to the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, as if that would magically make the pain go away.

“No, no….remember what the doctor said.”

Charlie opened his eyes and looked up, his gaze fixating on the nearly translucent woman suddenly seated across from him in the tub. She too was naked, but the bubble bath covered all the good bits (unless you’re a shoulders man). Her skin was pale, albino even. Her eyes were a scarlet red. She smiled at Charlie, revealing a mouth full of blood-stained fangs.

“No, no, no...you won’t pull me under.”

Charlie brought the crack pipe to his lips. He sparked the lighter and let the flame hold for as long as it could. He inhaled slowly, fully appreciating each and every bit of smoke that was pulled into his lungs. The phantasmic figure began to speak with a voice full of softness.


Charlie's wakin' me
To my core and
Charlie's shakin' me
And tell my story
And Charlie's makin' me
And Charlie's makin' me smile
Oh oh now


Charlie closed his eyes as he focused on the new melody. The words were gentle and soothing.

Lay down, get kissed

Charlie leaned back into the bathtub, letting the crackpipe and the lighter be submerged underneath the bubbly waves. Bits of smoked crack escaped into the water, but Charlie didn’t seem to care.

Charlie's wakin' me
To my core and
Charlie's shakin' me
And tell my story
And Charlie's makin' me
And Charlie's makin' me smile
Oh oh now

“You’re smiling, baby? Do you finally love me?”

My heart, your skin
This love, I'm in
We don't arrive without a surprise

Charlie opened his eyes as he puckered his lips.

“FUCK!!!!!”



[Image: images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcS6Ih4h49jsgZMdP71FH...g&usqp=CAU]


The dragon’s jaws were open and descending down onto Charlie! The dragon pushed Charlie into the waters below with its powerful front claws. The bathtub seemed to have no end as the beast dragged Charlie down into the abyssal depths! Charlie pushed off of the dragon, swimming away just in time to avoid the monster’s nasty bite! Charlie swam like a dolphin desperately fleeing Jim Jimson. He never looked back, he just held his breath and struggled to get to safety wherever it may be.

“OH FUCK ME!”

Charlie cried out as the dragon bit away a piece of Charlie’s calf! Charlie kicked blindly. He felt his foot connect with the dragon’s snout and propel him forward! Charlie looked around for a path, a weapon, a miracle, something, anything.

“A cave!”

Charlie cried out in joy as he saw a small cave on the floor of the...bathtub? It didn’t look like a bathtub. The bottom was full of dirt and plants, but a small crevice did form a path down into the depths. It wasn’t really a cave by definition, but Charlie isn’t a smart man by definition. Charlie swam down towards the hole, trying to outrun the dragon’s claws as the beast tried to prevent him from making the escape!

Charlie made it into the crevice just in time.

Where did it lead to? Frankly, Charlie didn’t care. He just knew that the dragon was too large to follow him. The cave is incredibly dark and narrow, save for a slither of light at the end. Charlie hurries towards it.

[Image: tnRggUg.jpg]


Charlie comes out of the tunnel a changed man. He is dressed in shining armor and somehow riding a horse covered with metal plating and blue drapings. A large broadsword hangs from Charlie's back. A small crossbow and a few dozen bolts hang from a bag slung over the shoulders of the jet black steed. The horse’s clattering hooves shook the ground with each and every stride. Charlie jostled around in the saddle as his mount rode along the cobblestone path. On either side of the path luscious pastures of natural grass swayed in the wind. Charlie looked around the scene, dazed and confused. The sun was high in the sky, casting shadows across the ground. Charlie’s shadow seemed to be smoking a crack pipe as he rode along the path.

A column of black smoke can be seen rising from a village in the distance. Charlie looked down at his horse, then back up to the column of smoke. He was riding straight towards it. He tried to slow the horse by kicking it in the sides and pulling up on the reins, but nothing seems to work. Charlie sighed as he gave in to the horse.

Within a few minutes Charlie could see the flames and hear the screams of the villagers in peril. Their homes were set ablaze. He rode to the town center, past the burning buildings and dead bodies. As he rode into the center of what used to be a town he saw only two figures. One of them was a tall man, but like, way tall. Like Yao Ming standing on top of Shaquille O'Neal while wearing a trench coat tall. His hair was red and he spoke with an irish accent.

“That dirtay Qween! Burned our olmes’!”

The man next to him was wearing barely any clothing. The loincloth between his thighs had been severely torched and very little of it was left. Nonetheless it did its job as you could not see even the hint of a phallus behind the loincloth. The man’s brown skin was covered in ash. His features were exaggerated in a very racist manner, as if he was a cartoon figure designed to be a mascot for the Cleveland Indians. He spoke in a somber tone.

“The Queen of Chaos torched everything...killed everyone. Well, everyone but us.”

“Do ye’ tink’ she ez’ cahmin’ back fo’ us?”

The cartoon version of Little Feather shrugged.

“Well if she does, at least we will be safe. The King of Order will protect us.”

The two men gave a military salute to Charlie.

“Huh?"

“The King has come to set the world back in order. Make it right. Re-establish the hierarchy.”

Charlie looked at the two men, confused by the look of adoration and respect in their eyes.

“Me?”

The cartoon characters nodded.

“You have come to save us, to save the wrestling industry. To bring order out of the chaos. To dethrone the Lacklan heiress and save us from her tyranny. The tyranny of monotony, a tyranny with enormous length. A tyranny that our universe needs to be delivered from. The day that the Queen of Chaos took hold of the championship belt was the day that our federation was shackled to its deathknell. But you, Charlie, have come to set things right. The King of Order, here to rescue the universal championship from the grips of a failed dynasty.”

Charlie let the idea roll around his mind for a few moments before the taller man interjected.

“Uh, lads, wos’ that?!”

The comically tall man pointed up to the sky. Charlie and Little Feather squinted to see it. Then, it came swooping down towards them!

“She’s here!”

Charlie squinted as he tried to make out the figure that was quickly closing the distance. It had white scales, red eyes, and enormous wings. Charlie tried to see the finer details of the beast, but it let out a mouthful of flames!

“It’s your responsibility, King Charles. Defeat the beast. Save us from her tyranny.”

Little Feather handed Charlie a metallic helmet out of nowhere. Charlie took the helmet as he nodded at Little Feather. The King placed the steel cap on his head, letting the crack rock encrusted helmet fall atop his plate shoulder pads. Charlie kicked his horse in the ribs with the heels of his feet, spurring it forward! Charlie reached for his broadsword, unsheathing it as he charged full steam ahead at the dragon making its descent. Charlie screamed as he prepared for the battle.

The dragon closed in quickly, coming down atop Charlie with incredible speed. The dragon opened it’s gullet, letting a belly full of flame engulf the path ahead! Charlie cared not. He raised his broadsword high as he charged into the inferno!


RING


RING


RING


RING

Charlie awoke to find himself still in the middle of a bubble bath, his pipe and lighter full of water and laying near his feet.


RING


RING


RING


RING

Charlie reached out of the tub, blindly searching for his phone on the grimey bathroom floor.

RING


RING


RING

“Give me a fucking minute.”

After a few more seconds of fumbling around Charlie was finally able to get his dripping wet palms on his cellphone. He brought the phone up to his ear, clicking the button to accept the call in the process.

“Who the fuck is this? What do you want?”

“Charlie, it’s Kelly Anne from XWF’s communications staff. Vinnie Lane said you weren’t doing enough media events to promote the big main event, so he sent some reporters to your room for a press conference. They’ve been pounding on your door for half an hour!”

“I don’t want to do that shit!”

“It’s not optional. It’s in your contract. If you don’t do the media events, we’re going to strip you of your title if you win it! You have to fulfill the contract!”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

Charlie screams into his phone as he chucks it across the room. It rams into the mirror, shattering the glass and ruining the phone. Charlie pulls himself out of the tub regretfully, stepping onto the bathroom tiles without concern for the pieces of glass strewn about. Charlie picks up the gray sweatpants and worn out wife beater he was wearing yesterday. He cradles them against his chest as he walks through the shards of glass to turn the radio off. He turns to face the door, walking towards it as he reaches for the knob. He turns the knob and steps out into the motel bedroom. His feet leave a trail of blood with each and every step. He pulls his wife beater over his body, unconcerned about the horse radish stains from last year. He pushes his feet into the raggedy old sweatpants, smearing blood across the interior of his pants as his glass-covered feet descended into the sleeves. Charlie opened the door to his motel room looking all the worse for wear.

“Charlie, what do you think about being called a jobber?”

“Charlie, how do you react to knowing that the bookies have this match at fifty thousand to one odds?”

“Charlie, how do you prepare for a match everyone knows you’re going to lose?”

“Charlie, are you really in love with Sarah Lacklan?”

Charlie yawns and stretches as he faces the pack of hyenas waiting outside of his room. They all have their little cameras and their little notepads. Each and every one of them is looking for a soundbite, looking for some click-bait bullshit to put in their headlines. Charlie wouldn’t normally entertain this kind of corporate bullshit, but fuck, sometimes you just have to do what the boss man wants.

“I don’t have any love for that bitch. She’s nothing but a spoiled brat playing pretend with the universal championship. The fact that all the nutlickers and fartsniffers in the back have her penciled in to win doesn’t mean shit to me. Her reign as champion has been noteworthy for only one thing: how fucking boring it has been. She won with a fluke victory against an exhausted opponent and only shows up once a month to go shopping in Paris and fight the third best member of Chaotic Inc or to interfere in someone else’s match. She’s not putting in the work a good champion should. That a real bonafide universal champion would. She’s doing the bare fucking basics and hoping no one notices. And guess what?

The dumb fucking monkeys in the back don’t even have a clue. She goes on jeopardy, reuses the same ‘pick your adventure’ shit she did for Gilly, and they go fucking nuts for it. She talks a whole fucking lot so they think she must be something special. But she doesn’t do shit. She never changes, never progresses. She’s just a bratty rich bitch all day, every day. Sarah Lacklan is as predictable as they come. Her words hardly matter when they’re all the same and they all go nowhere.

But the dumb fucking monkeys in the back don’t get that. All they know is shiny. They see a shiny little belt around someone’s waist and they start worshipping the ground they walk on. They don’t know any better. All they know is they could never be that good, they could never win that belt, so anyone who has it must be incredible. Amazing. Absolutely untouchable.

But they’re fucking wrong. They always are. No one ever sees an upset coming. That’s why it’s called a fucking upset, jack! I’m 275 pounds of All-American stud muffin but even still those talking heads don’t see me running up on the rich girl and taking her for all she’s got! But shit, that’s even better for Charlie. Does the disrespect get to me a bit? Does the knowledge that everyone thinks I’m going down gnaw away at me each day? Does the fact that the fans just see me as some fat jobber garbage guy keep me up at night?

Fuck no! The Chuckster is his own man and he plays the game of life by his own rules. He sets the world in order as he sees fit. The fact that Lacklan is looking past me, preparing to face Kris Von Bonn...or, shit...whoever the fuck it is. That shit doesn’t bother me in the least. I don’t care about that nonsense. About the hype.

All I care about is climbing that ladder and letting that belt come to daddy. I’m going to leave Lacklan’s body laying in a bloody pool in the middle of the ring. I’m going to let her taste the leather on my boots as I snuff out her championship reign. She isn’t going to like it. She’s not going to love it. Hell, she probably won’t even remember it.

But the jackals in the back? They’ll remember it. And the bookies in Vegas? They’ll remember it, too. And they’ll never bet against ol’ Charlie again. Not that I give two shits.

Now get the fuck out of here and let me get some rest, damn it!”

Charlie slammed the door shut on this chapter of his story.
]]> Charlie is sitting in the waiting room as he scrolls through his favorite social media sites with his iphonemax. He is dressed in ill fitting khaki pants, a red polo stained with mustard and barbeque sauce, and a pair of sneakers that have definitely seen brighter days. He opened up his DMs and found a rather rude and salty message from an online mark, probably Greggo in disguise, but his profile name was Lacklan_Lover69.

Lacklan_Lover69: You idiot! You big dumb goof! You’re not quoting Jean-Paul Lacklan, you’re quoting DEX! AKA TRAGIK! AKA Sarah’s great friend, follower of Jean-Paul, and former member of the Path of the Light Church and the guy Sarah paid to do the intro to her jeopardy video! Idiot!

Charlie scrunched his face as he typed his reply.

Charlie: What? What part was I wrong about? Was it not really JPL who said women don’t deserve to look men in the eye?

Lacklan_Lover69: Well no, JPL did say that…..

Charlie: What was I wrong about? Did JPL not say that women have no place in the wrestling business?

Lacklan_Lover69: Well no, JPL said that too….

Charlie: What was I wrong about? Did JPL actually secretly like gay people and lesbian sex scenes?

Lacklan_Lover69: Well..no…..JPL hated both of those things….

Charlie: What was I “misquoting” then?

Lacklan_Lover69: One of the things on twitter! It wasn’t JPL talking about raping transgender people, it was Tragik AKA Dex AKA the close family friend of the Lacklans who was following JPL’s church when he released that little video about hating jews and wanting to rape people!

Charlie: Oh…..I misattributed a quote or something on twitter?

Lacklan_Lover69: YEAH! IDIOT! FOOL! FATSO! 11!! JOBBER!!111!!!1111

Charlie rolled his eyes as he blocked the man he presumed to be Greggo.

Nurse: Charlie...Charlie?

Charlie’s ears perked up and his head elevated to meet the gaze of the friendly nurse calling his name from behind the desk. He tucked his phone in his pocket as he stood up, pushing his fat body out of the chair with minimal effort. The bearded man approached the desk.

Nurse: Head back through the door right there. Dr. Peterson is in his office at the end of the hall.

Charlie nodded at the woman seated behind the desk. He walked past her through the open doorway into a long, mayonnaise colored hallway. Charlie looked down at his reflection on the other side of the shiny linoleum floors. He wasn’t impressed with the man he saw. Charlie sighed as he walked to the end of the hall. He pushed the oak door at the end of the hall slightly ajar and peered into the room.

[Image: yNBnK9r.jpg]

Charlie walked into the room as the gaunt doctor nodded at him. The elderly snake oil salesman spoke to Charlie, his voice sounding nearly identical to Kermit the Frog.

“Welcome, Charlie. Come, take a seat.”

The doctor gestured to the damn near identical couch positioned directly across the glass coffee table as he spoke. Charlie nodded in understanding.

“Good to see ya, doc.”

Charlie walked past as the coffee table. He took a seat directly next to Jordan Peterson. Charlie patted the good doctor on the thigh as he looked him in the eye.

“It feels good to be here, doc.”

Jordan Peterson scooted away looking at Charlie with a sour expression.

“Yes, yes….great to have you here.”

Jordan spoke with an undercurrent of sassy bitchiness as he got up and walked over to the other couch. He took an exasperated seat as he rubbed his hands against his knees. Jordan’s eyes shifted down to the glass table, which was stained with years of coffee spillage. Atop the table a pill bottle full of benzos stood tall next to a stack of books. Jordan Peterson coughed a few times into his hand before falling back into the comforts of his chair. The doctor’s gaze settled upon his new patient. In Charlie the Jungian doctor saw a familiar archetype: the magician. He knew he needed to craft Charlie into a ruler if he was ever going to survive this brutal world.

“Sorry for having to reschedule our meeting so many times, Charlie. A slavic man was running this office last week, pretending to be an esteemed psychological thinker. Spread mayonnaise all over the walls. We’re still washing it off. Slavs.”

Jordan Peterson shuddered as he stated the last word. His disdain for the slavic people was evident in his expression.

“Oh, Boris?”

“No...a fearsome man who goes only by Slavoj. But enough talk of the postmodern neomarxists. We are here to discuss YOU, Charlie. I’ve been paying attention, reading through your file. Watching your taped videos. Your life….seems like a cycle of chaos.”

Charlie nodded solemnly at the doctor’s prognosis.

“It is doc, it really is. And I have this pounding, throbbing pain in my head constantly...I ju-”

The doctor, who still sounds exactly like Kermit the Frog, interjected.

“I know, Charlie. I know everything that’s happened in your life these last two weeks. While earning my PhD in clinical psychology I learned to constantly be paying attention to developments in your client’s life. Even a first-time client. I’ve seen the troubles you’ve gone through. The pain you’ve suffered. You’re in the underworld, Charlie. The darkest depths of human existence. That chaotic place where hellfire and atrocity reign down upon you day after day. Your life has spiraled down, and now you find yourself in a pit. A pit of your own making.”

“It’s not my fault! That bitch Connie ruined me! And now Sarah has taken her place! All I can think about is her hair, falling down her pale face. Her red eyes staring up at me. Her soft flesh...she’s all I need! All I crave!”

The doctor shook his head from side to side as he chided Charlie.

“Just as the blind man does not see the monsters about to pull him into the pit of fire, you do not see the chaos dragons leading you astray. But Charlie, you’re not a blind man. You can see the ways of the world! See the evil wraiths that swim around you, hoping to bring you down into their sea of chaos.”

“Dragons? Wraiths? What the fuck are you talking about?”

The doctor shook his head from side to side as he smirked. A pretentious arrogance radiated from the man’s demeanor. He reached for the top book on the table, flipping it open to page 56. He set the page in front of Charlie, tapping the printed graphic on the page with his fingers so as to direct Charlie’s attention to it.

[Image: JyCZiIF.png]

“This right here Charlie? This is the way of the world. I wrote about it in my book, Maps of Meaning. It was the masterpiece of the 90s. I sold dozens of copies, mostly to close friends and family. This book is my magnum opus. Do you see, Charlie? Do you understand now?”

Charlie shook his head from side to side, not able to understand the gibberish that had somehow been printed by the book’s publisher.

“Worry not, Charlie. When I taught at Harvard many young, naïve, and stupid children had similar difficulties understanding my science. Look here, Charlie. Our world is formed from the tension between God and the void. Hierarchy and anarchy. Order and chaos. God is an all-powerful King, and when he made the world he made it only in order. We all know this story. Adam and Eve and the garden. Well, what happens Charlie?”

“Adam and Eve are tricked by Satan into eating forbidden fruit.”

“Close, but not quite, Charlie. Yes, Satan is involved. But how is he involved? Many people say he takes the form of the snake, but if you read the Bible, you see that’s not quite true, is it? In all factuality, the form Satan took was that of a dragon. It was only AFTER Eve conspired with Lucifer, Satan, whatever you will his name to be, to DECEIVE Adam into violating the divine order through forbidden consumption. It was only after this conspiracy that God condemned snakes to lay on their bellies. Before, they flew. In the air, with wings. That is the only way the devil was able to access the forbidden fruit! You see, many people do not know the true bible stories. Your common preacherman simply can’t comprehend the true meaning behind the words in their special books.”

Charlie nodded in false understanding.

“The garden of eden was built behind a massive wall. A wall guarded by an angel with a flaming sword. A snake could never get into the garden, the walls were too massive. But a dragon? Well, a dragon could fly right over that wall, grab an apple, and flee before being caught by the angel. Well, that’s just what Satan did! And then Satan turned the woman against the man. Women are mentally weaker, you know? More agreeable. More docile. They give in to pressures and negative emotions far more easily than men do. That’s what makes them harbingers of chaos. Eve fell right in line, and it was HER that convinced Adam to violate the divine order and eat the forbidden fruit. This is important, Charlie. Satan himself could not get Adam to turn on God. That was a power only Eve had. Do you understand what this means?”

Charlie nodded once again.

“Yeah, yeah….no.”

The doctor sighed.

“Look at this graph again, Charlie. See here. Do you see how God creates paradise? A walled garden of order?”

Charlie nods.

“Good, good. And see here, look. There is chaos outside of the garden, chaos pulling away at the seams of order itself, trying to break down the paradise. The dragons of chaos work tirelessly to destroy all that is. To undermine the order. To undermine life itself. Chaos dragons seek to plunge us into the underworld. And against Adam, they succeeded. That’s why we as a species lost our immortality. The chaos dragons stole it from us, working hand in hand with the devil himself to drive us into the matriarchal world of darkness. The tale of Adam and Eve is a cautionary tale, Charlie. And it’s one you need to learn from.”

Charlie looked at the doctor with naivete, hoping to glean the information Jordan sought to provide.

“Adam could not see that Eve was a harbinger of chaos, that Eve was working hand in hand with the dark forces in this world to bring him into the darkness. Simply put, Adam did not see that Eve was a chaos dragon. As such, he did not seek to put her back in order. He did not fulfill man’s obligation of becoming the ‘ruler’. Instead, he acted as you do, Charlie. As an ill-fitting archetype, not suited to the realities of the world. Adam acted as the explorer, constantly yearning for new sensations and experiences. But that’s not you, Charlie. You are acting out an entirely different role in this life. You, Charlie, have fallen into the pit of the magician. It’s a sad place to be, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“The magician archetype always tries to make something special out of the world. Instead of defending the tangible order, the magician seeks to create and fulfill a dream that could never be realized. You chase after this Sarah woman like a madman. You are trying to create a life with her that could never exist. No matter what you say to her or what you do for her, you will never receive her love.”

“NO! Sarah WILL come to love me! Our matrimony is ordained by God!”

“No it isn’t!”

The doctor spoke simply and assertively.

“Honestly Charlie, where did you even get that notion from? It is absolutely ridiculous on its face. God made Adam and Eve in matrimony, did he not?”

Charlie considered the question for a few moments. Jordan moved on without an answer.

“But did Eve love Adam? No! She betrayed him, worked with the devil to bring about chaos and destroy the walled garden. And now? Now God’s plans have been blown up! Shattered into tiny pieces of order spaced out in a galaxy of chaos. But your response is exactly the response I would expect from the magician. You are trying to recreate God’s plan. Trying to create something new, something special with the world that has been left to us. It will never work. The chaos dragons feed off of that naivete. How can you possibly hope to defeat Sarah in a match if you expect her to love you, if you expect her to submit to you? You can’t!”

Jordan let the point sink in before continuing on.

“This devotion you have for Sarah? It works to her advantage. And she knows that. She’s happy to see it, as the chaos dragons are always happy to see a man fall into disorder. And then whe’s he at his lowest, totally at their whim, they destroy him. That’s why the magicians can never make it in this world. In order to conquer Sarah and take your rightful place as universal champion, you must fulfill the archetype of the ruler. You must become a King of Order.”

“A King of Order?”

Jordan Peterson sighed in exasperation as his words falled to get through to Charlie. The doctor flipped to page 235 of his book, revealing another whacko graphic.

[Image: 49sY0XP.jpg]


“This right here, Charlie? This is the myth of redemption. This is the way forward. The way a magician becomes a King of Order. Do you understand now what you must do?”

Charlie shook his head from side to side, a confused but entranced look in his eye. The doctor sighed as he reached for his pill bottle. He opened the cap and popped two pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He exhaled with satisfaction as he set the pill bottle back on the table and tossed the cap to the floor.

“The King of Order is able to wade through the world undeterred by the dragons, sirens, and temptations that drag most men to their doom. The King of Order stands up to the Queen of Chaos, overcomes her, dethrones her, and sets the world right again. He keeps the hierarchy intact. He is able to reintegrate a dragon of chaos into the divine order, and by doing so he creates a state of gold. A little walled paradise all his own. God will not do this for the King of Order, but it is holy and divine. A King of Order is a strong and mighty man. Organized, disciplined, and powerful. Able to exert his will on the world absolutely. The King of Order is able to take on a chaos dragon and make her an honest woman. I did that with my wife and Igor did the same to my daughter.”

“That’s what I’m doing with Sarah, doc! I’m going to make her an honest woman!”

The doctor shook his head from side to side derisively.

“Don’t you see, Charlie?! She’s a Queen of Chaos! This is exactly the mistake of the magician. Attempting to create a special bond with a Queen of Chaos. It can’t be done, but by trying to magically change the chaos before you you are making sure that she eats you for dinner and takes you for all you got. A King of Order knows better than to try and tame a Queen of Chaos. It simply can’t be done. You must defeat her and then move on from her. After you destroy her you have to keep wading through the hellscape we find ourselves trapped in, preserving order with each and every step you take as the universal champion of the wrestling industry.”

Charlie nodded his head in acceptance and understanding. He winced as a brief throbbing of pain shot through his skull.

“But..what about my head, doc? It hurts so bad, all the time.”

The doctor leaned forward, stroking his chin for a few moments. Then, the lightbulb in his mind flashed on.

“It’s simple, Charlie. The pain you feel within your skull? It’s the attempt of the King of Order to come through and save the day. The archetypes live inside us, Charlie. Their personas are deeply interwoven with our psyche. You have let the magician take hold, but the King of Order wants to make you right. Put you back in order and prepare you for the task ahead. Prepare you for the albino dragon you’re set to share the stage with tomorrow night. Let him out, Charlie. Let the King put the XWF back in order.”

Charlie nodded as a look of confidence washed over him. Then, a brief hint of confusion made it’s way into the wrinkles on his face.

“But how do you know so much about wrestling? I thought most doctors didn’t really like the sport.”

“Oh, how could I not?”

Jordan Peterson closed Maps of Meaning and put it to the side. He grabbed another book and passed it to his patient. Charlie looked down at the book and chuckled.

“Assorted Analysis and Essays by Big D? Are you serious?”

The doctor was deadly serious.

“This is no laughing matter, Charlie. There are essential words of wisdom in that classic.”

Charlie shrugged, handing the book back to the doctor. Charlie never knew that Big D was such an accomplished scholar, but then again, Charlie doesn’t know most things.

“What must I do to become a King of Order?”

“You must conquer the chaos in your life.”

“But...how? The women, I understand: conquer the chaos dragons and defeat the queens of chaos. But what about the other struggles? How….how do I stay off the drugs? When I was only focused on Sarah, it was easy. I didn’t need the drugs if I knew I could have her. But...now? If I must destroy her? How do I avoid falling back into that downwards cycle?”

“Just don’t get addicted.”

Jordan Peterson reached once more for the bottle of benzos. He plucked a few more into his mouth, swallowing them dry.

“It’s not that easy!”

“Sure it is!”

Jordan Peterson grabbed a handful more of pills and swallowed them like a first grader eating halloween candy.

“Us Kings of Order? We can control the drugs. We set them in line, make them work for us. We don’t fall into addiction because we have the mental fortitude of giants.”

Jordan leaned back in his chair as his eyes got glossy and his heart slowed. His vision got a bit blurry, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Those idiots at the rehab clinic my bitch of a wife sent me to didn’t understand the world. They didn’t understand the archetypes. But you and me, Charlie? We understand perfectly. We can walk the borders between chaos and order. Between life and death. And come out as stronger men. More righteous kings.”

Jordan and Charlie nodded at each other in agreement. Suddenly Jordan began to spasm, his muscles tremoring as a white fizzy liquid began to run down his chin. His body shook and convulsed for several seconds. His legs kicked against the glass coffee table, knocking over his bottle of pills. The little benzos spilled all over the floor as some blood began to drip from Jordan’s nose. Charlie cried out with concern as he reached across the table to grab the doctor.

“Doc, doc! Are you ok?! Nurse, nurse!”

A few more seconds passed before the shaking ceased. As Jordan came to he pushed Charlie back. The doctor rubbed the white fluid off of his chin with the sleeve of his shirt.

“That was my choice. I don’t need a nurse.”

“Wh-what?”

Jordan slowly rolled his eyes as he began to regain control of his muscles.

“I’m not addicted, I am a King of Order. We don’t get addicted, we don’t have seizures. We are in control of our worlds at all times. Do you get it now, Charlie?”

Charlie pondered for a few moments, quietly reflecting on this therapy session. The reflections were brought to a grinding halt as a disorienting pain shot through his skull. Charlie leaned forward, rubbing his cranium with both hands. He massaged his skull, weaving his fingers through his thick locks of hair. The pain seemed endless. All noise was drowned out. All sensation was lost from his body as the painful throbbing echoed throughout the man’s nervous system.

Then the pain was gone.

No, not gone. Reduced. Charlie still felt a tingling throb behind his eyes as he tried to reorient himself into this chaotic world. His body felt warm and free of fabric. He wiggled his toes as something passed through the gaps. The warm liquid felt soothing. A simple melody wiggled into Charlie's ears, sparking his imagination and bringing him back to his senses.



As Charlie opened his eyes he realized he was in a dimly lit bathroom, sitting in a tub full of warm water and a whole bunch of bubbles. He looked over to the sink across the room. A small black radio was seated on the back of the toilet. Charlie turned his head as looked down at his hands. Both hands were held up to Charlie’s chest, fully out of the reach of the waves below. In his left hand he held a white bic lighter that was almost out of juice. In his right hand a crack pipe with a whole lot left in it was just waiting to be smoked. Charlie winced as the pain came back to the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, as if that would magically make the pain go away.

“No, no….remember what the doctor said.”

Charlie opened his eyes and looked up, his gaze fixating on the nearly translucent woman suddenly seated across from him in the tub. She too was naked, but the bubble bath covered all the good bits (unless you’re a shoulders man). Her skin was pale, albino even. Her eyes were a scarlet red. She smiled at Charlie, revealing a mouth full of blood-stained fangs.

“No, no, no...you won’t pull me under.”

Charlie brought the crack pipe to his lips. He sparked the lighter and let the flame hold for as long as it could. He inhaled slowly, fully appreciating each and every bit of smoke that was pulled into his lungs. The phantasmic figure began to speak with a voice full of softness.


Charlie's wakin' me
To my core and
Charlie's shakin' me
And tell my story
And Charlie's makin' me
And Charlie's makin' me smile
Oh oh now


Charlie closed his eyes as he focused on the new melody. The words were gentle and soothing.

Lay down, get kissed

Charlie leaned back into the bathtub, letting the crackpipe and the lighter be submerged underneath the bubbly waves. Bits of smoked crack escaped into the water, but Charlie didn’t seem to care.

Charlie's wakin' me
To my core and
Charlie's shakin' me
And tell my story
And Charlie's makin' me
And Charlie's makin' me smile
Oh oh now

“You’re smiling, baby? Do you finally love me?”

My heart, your skin
This love, I'm in
We don't arrive without a surprise

Charlie opened his eyes as he puckered his lips.

“FUCK!!!!!”



[Image: images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcS6Ih4h49jsgZMdP71FH...g&usqp=CAU]


The dragon’s jaws were open and descending down onto Charlie! The dragon pushed Charlie into the waters below with its powerful front claws. The bathtub seemed to have no end as the beast dragged Charlie down into the abyssal depths! Charlie pushed off of the dragon, swimming away just in time to avoid the monster’s nasty bite! Charlie swam like a dolphin desperately fleeing Jim Jimson. He never looked back, he just held his breath and struggled to get to safety wherever it may be.

“OH FUCK ME!”

Charlie cried out as the dragon bit away a piece of Charlie’s calf! Charlie kicked blindly. He felt his foot connect with the dragon’s snout and propel him forward! Charlie looked around for a path, a weapon, a miracle, something, anything.

“A cave!”

Charlie cried out in joy as he saw a small cave on the floor of the...bathtub? It didn’t look like a bathtub. The bottom was full of dirt and plants, but a small crevice did form a path down into the depths. It wasn’t really a cave by definition, but Charlie isn’t a smart man by definition. Charlie swam down towards the hole, trying to outrun the dragon’s claws as the beast tried to prevent him from making the escape!

Charlie made it into the crevice just in time.

Where did it lead to? Frankly, Charlie didn’t care. He just knew that the dragon was too large to follow him. The cave is incredibly dark and narrow, save for a slither of light at the end. Charlie hurries towards it.

[Image: tnRggUg.jpg]


Charlie comes out of the tunnel a changed man. He is dressed in shining armor and somehow riding a horse covered with metal plating and blue drapings. A large broadsword hangs from Charlie's back. A small crossbow and a few dozen bolts hang from a bag slung over the shoulders of the jet black steed. The horse’s clattering hooves shook the ground with each and every stride. Charlie jostled around in the saddle as his mount rode along the cobblestone path. On either side of the path luscious pastures of natural grass swayed in the wind. Charlie looked around the scene, dazed and confused. The sun was high in the sky, casting shadows across the ground. Charlie’s shadow seemed to be smoking a crack pipe as he rode along the path.

A column of black smoke can be seen rising from a village in the distance. Charlie looked down at his horse, then back up to the column of smoke. He was riding straight towards it. He tried to slow the horse by kicking it in the sides and pulling up on the reins, but nothing seems to work. Charlie sighed as he gave in to the horse.

Within a few minutes Charlie could see the flames and hear the screams of the villagers in peril. Their homes were set ablaze. He rode to the town center, past the burning buildings and dead bodies. As he rode into the center of what used to be a town he saw only two figures. One of them was a tall man, but like, way tall. Like Yao Ming standing on top of Shaquille O'Neal while wearing a trench coat tall. His hair was red and he spoke with an irish accent.

“That dirtay Qween! Burned our olmes’!”

The man next to him was wearing barely any clothing. The loincloth between his thighs had been severely torched and very little of it was left. Nonetheless it did its job as you could not see even the hint of a phallus behind the loincloth. The man’s brown skin was covered in ash. His features were exaggerated in a very racist manner, as if he was a cartoon figure designed to be a mascot for the Cleveland Indians. He spoke in a somber tone.

“The Queen of Chaos torched everything...killed everyone. Well, everyone but us.”

“Do ye’ tink’ she ez’ cahmin’ back fo’ us?”

The cartoon version of Little Feather shrugged.

“Well if she does, at least we will be safe. The King of Order will protect us.”

The two men gave a military salute to Charlie.

“Huh?"

“The King has come to set the world back in order. Make it right. Re-establish the hierarchy.”

Charlie looked at the two men, confused by the look of adoration and respect in their eyes.

“Me?”

The cartoon characters nodded.

“You have come to save us, to save the wrestling industry. To bring order out of the chaos. To dethrone the Lacklan heiress and save us from her tyranny. The tyranny of monotony, a tyranny with enormous length. A tyranny that our universe needs to be delivered from. The day that the Queen of Chaos took hold of the championship belt was the day that our federation was shackled to its deathknell. But you, Charlie, have come to set things right. The King of Order, here to rescue the universal championship from the grips of a failed dynasty.”

Charlie let the idea roll around his mind for a few moments before the taller man interjected.

“Uh, lads, wos’ that?!”

The comically tall man pointed up to the sky. Charlie and Little Feather squinted to see it. Then, it came swooping down towards them!

“She’s here!”

Charlie squinted as he tried to make out the figure that was quickly closing the distance. It had white scales, red eyes, and enormous wings. Charlie tried to see the finer details of the beast, but it let out a mouthful of flames!

“It’s your responsibility, King Charles. Defeat the beast. Save us from her tyranny.”

Little Feather handed Charlie a metallic helmet out of nowhere. Charlie took the helmet as he nodded at Little Feather. The King placed the steel cap on his head, letting the crack rock encrusted helmet fall atop his plate shoulder pads. Charlie kicked his horse in the ribs with the heels of his feet, spurring it forward! Charlie reached for his broadsword, unsheathing it as he charged full steam ahead at the dragon making its descent. Charlie screamed as he prepared for the battle.

The dragon closed in quickly, coming down atop Charlie with incredible speed. The dragon opened it’s gullet, letting a belly full of flame engulf the path ahead! Charlie cared not. He raised his broadsword high as he charged into the inferno!


RING


RING


RING


RING

Charlie awoke to find himself still in the middle of a bubble bath, his pipe and lighter full of water and laying near his feet.


RING


RING


RING


RING

Charlie reached out of the tub, blindly searching for his phone on the grimey bathroom floor.

RING


RING


RING

“Give me a fucking minute.”

After a few more seconds of fumbling around Charlie was finally able to get his dripping wet palms on his cellphone. He brought the phone up to his ear, clicking the button to accept the call in the process.

“Who the fuck is this? What do you want?”

“Charlie, it’s Kelly Anne from XWF’s communications staff. Vinnie Lane said you weren’t doing enough media events to promote the big main event, so he sent some reporters to your room for a press conference. They’ve been pounding on your door for half an hour!”

“I don’t want to do that shit!”

“It’s not optional. It’s in your contract. If you don’t do the media events, we’re going to strip you of your title if you win it! You have to fulfill the contract!”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

Charlie screams into his phone as he chucks it across the room. It rams into the mirror, shattering the glass and ruining the phone. Charlie pulls himself out of the tub regretfully, stepping onto the bathroom tiles without concern for the pieces of glass strewn about. Charlie picks up the gray sweatpants and worn out wife beater he was wearing yesterday. He cradles them against his chest as he walks through the shards of glass to turn the radio off. He turns to face the door, walking towards it as he reaches for the knob. He turns the knob and steps out into the motel bedroom. His feet leave a trail of blood with each and every step. He pulls his wife beater over his body, unconcerned about the horse radish stains from last year. He pushes his feet into the raggedy old sweatpants, smearing blood across the interior of his pants as his glass-covered feet descended into the sleeves. Charlie opened the door to his motel room looking all the worse for wear.

“Charlie, what do you think about being called a jobber?”

“Charlie, how do you react to knowing that the bookies have this match at fifty thousand to one odds?”

“Charlie, how do you prepare for a match everyone knows you’re going to lose?”

“Charlie, are you really in love with Sarah Lacklan?”

Charlie yawns and stretches as he faces the pack of hyenas waiting outside of his room. They all have their little cameras and their little notepads. Each and every one of them is looking for a soundbite, looking for some click-bait bullshit to put in their headlines. Charlie wouldn’t normally entertain this kind of corporate bullshit, but fuck, sometimes you just have to do what the boss man wants.

“I don’t have any love for that bitch. She’s nothing but a spoiled brat playing pretend with the universal championship. The fact that all the nutlickers and fartsniffers in the back have her penciled in to win doesn’t mean shit to me. Her reign as champion has been noteworthy for only one thing: how fucking boring it has been. She won with a fluke victory against an exhausted opponent and only shows up once a month to go shopping in Paris and fight the third best member of Chaotic Inc or to interfere in someone else’s match. She’s not putting in the work a good champion should. That a real bonafide universal champion would. She’s doing the bare fucking basics and hoping no one notices. And guess what?

The dumb fucking monkeys in the back don’t even have a clue. She goes on jeopardy, reuses the same ‘pick your adventure’ shit she did for Gilly, and they go fucking nuts for it. She talks a whole fucking lot so they think she must be something special. But she doesn’t do shit. She never changes, never progresses. She’s just a bratty rich bitch all day, every day. Sarah Lacklan is as predictable as they come. Her words hardly matter when they’re all the same and they all go nowhere.

But the dumb fucking monkeys in the back don’t get that. All they know is shiny. They see a shiny little belt around someone’s waist and they start worshipping the ground they walk on. They don’t know any better. All they know is they could never be that good, they could never win that belt, so anyone who has it must be incredible. Amazing. Absolutely untouchable.

But they’re fucking wrong. They always are. No one ever sees an upset coming. That’s why it’s called a fucking upset, jack! I’m 275 pounds of All-American stud muffin but even still those talking heads don’t see me running up on the rich girl and taking her for all she’s got! But shit, that’s even better for Charlie. Does the disrespect get to me a bit? Does the knowledge that everyone thinks I’m going down gnaw away at me each day? Does the fact that the fans just see me as some fat jobber garbage guy keep me up at night?

Fuck no! The Chuckster is his own man and he plays the game of life by his own rules. He sets the world in order as he sees fit. The fact that Lacklan is looking past me, preparing to face Kris Von Bonn...or, shit...whoever the fuck it is. That shit doesn’t bother me in the least. I don’t care about that nonsense. About the hype.

All I care about is climbing that ladder and letting that belt come to daddy. I’m going to leave Lacklan’s body laying in a bloody pool in the middle of the ring. I’m going to let her taste the leather on my boots as I snuff out her championship reign. She isn’t going to like it. She’s not going to love it. Hell, she probably won’t even remember it.

But the jackals in the back? They’ll remember it. And the bookies in Vegas? They’ll remember it, too. And they’ll never bet against ol’ Charlie again. Not that I give two shits.

Now get the fuck out of here and let me get some rest, damn it!”

Charlie slammed the door shut on this chapter of his story.
]]> <![CDATA[Legacy Babies]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38347 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 23:59:02 -0700 James Raven]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38347 [Image: RavenCanada.jpg]
NOAH JACKSON: Go for the takedown, you cunt!

JACKSON HART: Fuck that, he’s wobbled! Knock his ass out!

SHAWN WARSTEIN: Twenty bucks says the referee stops it early.

I’ve gotten used to this sort of chatter. I hear it from my fellow Legacy members each and every day in the gym; but this isn’t our usual setting. There’s no clanging of iron weights in the background, no gasps and grunts of aspiring world champions echoing as I sweat and bleed all over foam grappling mats…

Those familiar sounds are replaced with the clinking of shot glasses, and the clatter of empty beer bottles toppling across wooden countertops. Laughter booms through the room, mirth and merriment in every direction as I tear into the meat of a chicken wing before dropping the bone in a large ceramic bowl.

NOAH: This cunt better not stop it! It’s MMA! Not fucking ballet!

JACKSON: Don’t worry. He’s not gonna stop it.

SHAWN: He’s gonna stop it.


Noah hurls a balled up paper towel across the room at his dad, Jackson Hart flipping Fuzz the middle finger for trying to rain on this parade. Shawn shrugs™ and leans forward to reach for another pizza slice, motioning to the enormous television hanging on the wall.

SHAWN: Fine. We’ll just see what happens, then.

Jackson and Noah return their attention to the screen eagerly. I grin quietly from my chair, finishing the rest of my drink. This whole evening has been nice. You may not be able to tell from some of our public appearances or how easy we make things look in GCWA, but we work hard and fuck it… we’ve earned the opportunity to kick back and relax a little bit. One night of greasy food and massive quantities of alcohol wasn’t going to kill anyone, was it? We can get back to the gym next week.

NOAH: Oh fuck!

JACKSON: Goddamn it! What’s he doing?! Is he fucking stupid?

I glance to the TV screen, watching as the referee dives between the two fighters and separates them, calling an end to the bout. Noah pops out of his seat arms in the air as his face reddens furiously. Jackson looks equally dismayed by the result. I glance over at Shawn, who isn’t even looking at the screen to see the pay-off of his prediction. He grabs a nearby whiskey bottle and begins to refill his glass.

One finger, two fingers… three… four… he stops pouring when the amber liquid nearly reaches the rim of the glass. Well shit. It’s gonna be that sort of night from here on out, huh?

He glances over at me.

He shrugs™.

NOAH: Well, Jax, you owe my dad twenty bucks.

JACKSON: Excuse me?

NOAH: He was very clear, twenty bucks if the ref stopped it early. Pay up.

JACKSON: So are you paying too? You were with me on this one.

NOAH: Are you really trying to deflect attention to me as you welch on a bet? I’m worried about you, cunt. Your degenerate gambling is really changing your character.

JACKSON: Oh, fuck off.

The two continue to bicker as I stand up from my chair, setting my empty glass down on the table amongst the food and discarded bottles. The other three turn to look at me curiously.

JACKSON: Where are you going?

RAVEN: I should probably head out, try and get some sleep.

SHAWN: Seriously? The co-main event is next.

RAVEN: I know, but you know, I got a match tomorrow and shit… so…

NOAH: Yeah, but it’s Bourbon. It’s like wrestling with a fridge, only he’s dumber.

I stare at Noah, blankly. Did I hear him right?

RAVEN: Noah, how often are you wrestling a fridge?

NOAH: As often as I need to in order to keep the cunt in line.

Noah turns towards the kitchen, shaking his fist menacingly at nobody in particular… well, I guess at an appliance. Jackson is as confused as I am, but it’s Shawn to move on first.

SHAWN: Fuck Robbie Bourbon, man. Do what I did, just log out.

RAVEN: Huh?

SHAWN: Leave. I meant just leave. My bad, I’m pretty drunk.

RAVEN: I can’t just leave. The whole reason Robbie’s butt hurt in the first place is because I didn’t give him the attention he thought he deserved.

NOAH: Well, I submit to you this… in the words of a great man… “fuck Robbie Bourbon, man”.

I roll my eyes.

JACKSON: They kind of have a point. You’re not on the XWF roster. You don’t care what Bourbon thinks. Soooo… you don’t owe anyone anything.

I think it over for a second.

RAVEN: The fans?

Shawn and Noah throw their hands in the air in mock horror, Jackson slapping his palms to his cheeks as he flashes me the Macaulay Caulkin.[/color][/b]

SHAWN: How did we forget about the fans?!

NOAH: We can’t upset the precious fans!

JACKSON: We’re monstrous!

I shoot daggers at Jackson.

RAVEN: You’re getting real cocky for a guy that had his first match, like, three months ago.

Shawn and Noah cackle wildly, and call both of us cunts. That’s fair.

JACKSON: Just be a good cunt and sit back down, have another drink, party for a while. These next two fights are going to be sick, cunt!

I shake my head and take a few steps away from my seat towards the front door.

RAVEN: I can’t. I said I would do it, so I’m going to do it. I just wish I had never said yes in the first place. It seemed like a fun idea at the time, but now? It’s just, so… “meh”…

Noah looks to Shawn suddenly with a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

NOAH: So what you’re saying is you wish you could go back in time? Maybe stop yourself from saying yes? Maybe sleep with your own mother? Maybe write Johnny B Goode for Chuck Berry?

RAVEN: Stop myself from saying yes, sure. I don’t know about the rest of it.

Shawn takes a slow bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully.

SHAWN: We have a time machine.

RAVEN: Very funny.

SHAWN: No. For real. We have one. It’s in the garage.

I look to Noah, who nods his head wildly. I glance to Jackson, who seems at the very least intrigued by whatever’s coming next. Finally I turn back to Shawn.

He shrugs.

™.



Do you know the crazy thing about innovation, Robbie?

It’s easily confused.

People like you seem to think that just because you march to the beat of your own drum, walk off the beaten path and spew a bunch of nonsense that the majority of us don’t understand… that you’re somehow a game changer, or a revolutionary. Half the joke to you is laughing at the normies that don’t get it. You’re not an innovator, Robbie, you’re the XWF’s resident hipster.

We get it.

You’re different.

You’re an outlier.

You’re not an innovator.

To be an innovator people need to follow in your footsteps. People need to recognize your moves as beneficial to themselves and a path of less resistance than their own. They need to be inspired to follow where you lead. Who has ever followed you anywhere? Bearded War Pig? And… I’ll wait. Even if you can rattle off a few names, where has it gotten them? Who can honestly sit down, look at their careers and say “I’m better for having followed the blueprint that fat fuck in a mask drew up”?

Fucking nobody, Robbie.

You’re not an innovator, you’re just fucking weird.

Now, ME on the other hand? I am exactly what you pretend to be. There are rules in place in the XWF because of me, there are World champions that have modeled their game after me or learned under my wing, and there is an endless line of jock sniffing clout chasers like yourself begging me back into the ring every time they think that I’m ripe for the picking… knowing that a win over me elevates them to heights they’ve never even seen before. Just ask-

Fuck it, you already know.

I made you more than you’ve made you, Robbie, and here you are two years later begging for a second chance at the fucking teat because no matter how many breifcases they dangle in front of you or tournaments they toss you into with favorable seeding… you just can’t get over that hump on your own… Chris Chaos is legally and he’s going to get a Universal title shot. Chris Page hasn’t won a match since like 2017 and could weasel his way in there again before you could.

Robert Main.

Sarah Lacklan.

Madison Dyson.

How many names do I need to mention here? I can keep going. Dozens of names that the fans and management alike would put ahead of you in drawing power, wrestling ability and general pleasantness to work with. Seriously, your breath smells like Gilmour shit in your mouth. Floss. How long have you been here Robbie? How long have you had to elevate yourself but been unable to do it, as wave after wave of new talent comes in and overshadows your inconsistency?

You. Are not. An innovator.

You’re the asshole wandering off to the side by himself, shouting loudly while the rest of us carry out our business… but another win over me changes all of that… it puts you back on the map.

Good luck.


RAVEN: WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!

SHAWN: Time travel just happened, baby.

JACKSON: Why can’t I see anything?

SHAWN: I can’t explain how a time machine works to you, man. You just have to try to keep up. Everything will go back to normal when we step outside, trust me. Now remember, we’re only trying to get Raven and Bourbon not to fight at Relentless. Anything else we change can send major ripple effects through the timeline that we know.

JACKSON: What sort of ripple effects?

NOAH: There’s no way of knowing. It could be anything from Mike Tyson marrying the Queen of England to Barney Green owning the XWF.

RAVEN: Good Christ.

SHAWN: No pressure.

RAVEN: I’m having second thoughts. We shouldn’t be doing this. I’ll just fight Bourbon. I’ll phone in some half assed effort and it won’t be that bad. Fuck, it’ll be more than I can say for my last effort.

NOAH: Shut up, cunt! We’re getting that match cancelled! Now everyone out of the machine!

SHAWN: Hang on, Noah… what did you set the date to?

NOAH: I set it to go back twenty days. I thought that ought to be enough.

SHAWN: It’s not “back twenty days”, it’s to the 20th, but… the year… you’ve got us going back to the 90’s...

JACKSON: What?!?!

SHAWN: And… and… it’s set to internal…

RAVEN: What does that mean?

NOAH: Oh, son of a cunt.

SHAWN: Everybody out.



James Raven is basic.

James Raven is cake.

James Raven is a Ronald McDonald with tits.

All week I’ve listened to that sort nonsense, but at no point has Robbie Bourbon said “James Raven is a worse wrestler than I am” or “James Raven has a worse resume”. I get it Robbie, your absurdist bull shit is all you can cling to when there are no legitimate points left to raise. You release promos that are nothing more than verbal diarrhea packaged with the notion that if you talk for a long time AT me it counts more than saying something meaningful TO me.

You have no legs to stand on, Robbie, and to the surprise of most it had nothing to do with diabetes.

You don’t get to lecture me about how the XWF is all about fun, but then try to shame me for bringing my friends along to have a good time. I hate to break it to you, but a rematch with you wasn’t really a selling point if I had to come alone… oh, and since you were so eager to drag Atara into this she says “Fuck off, Dove”.

You don’t get to tell the fans and I that you’re over our previous match up when it was LITERALLY the only reason for you to be chasing after me two years later, and I don’t even work for this company anymore.

We’ve talked enough, Robbie, one of us more effectively than the other.

Time to settle this.

G.O.A.T.

Vs

Innovator

For Legacy

Fear the Raven… Forevermore…




Something has gone horrifically wrong.

That much is clear to me, now that we’re outside of the machine and my vision is restored. We’re still standing in Shawn’s garage, everything exactly the same as we had left it… but…

JACKSON: Why am I small?

Yep. There it is.

Jackson stands in front of me, his cheeks plump and cherubic and his hair messy and matted down to his forehead as he stares at me with bright and innocent eyes. I’d say he’s maybe four years old?

SHAWN: Whoa, so you were a little chubby kid, weren’t you Jax?

Shawn looks older. Maybe twelve? I don’t really know how to describe his look other than as a kid that you KNOW sat through a lot of detentions. He scratches his forehead in frustration. This isn’t what he had planned.

RAVEN: What happened? What year are we in?

My voice is high pitched, and what I meant to be a demanding question comes across as sing song bull shit.

SHAWN: Noah set the machine wrong. We’re still in 2020.

JACKSON: Huh?

SHAWN: There’s an interior and an exterior setting. Exterior travels back to the time you set, interior, it travels whatever’s inside back… but the machine never actually travels… does that make sense?

RAVEN: NO!!!

SHAWN: Well, it’s time travel, it’s complicated stuff. Don’t worry your little first grade head about it.

I’m going to flip out. I want to hit Shawn but he’s twice my size right now. I’ll remember this later. It suddenly occurs to me that Noah hasn’t spoken since leaving the time machine.

RAVEN: Where’s the cunt?

SHAWN: Not born yet.

RAVEN: So… where is he? Is he still in the time machine? Did he… cease to exist?

SHAWN: He exists inside all of us. In our hearts.

I hate Shawn sometimes. I really really do.

RAVEN: This is strange. It’s terrible. I don’t like it. All I wanted to do was get out of fighting Robbie Bourbon!

JACKSON: Look, it’s fine, we made a mistake. Just change all of us back, and then we go to the time we meant to go to. No problem.

SHAWN: Small problem. This thing doesn’t run on energizer batteries. The energy takes forever to build up, we have enough juice to do one or the other… change back, or jump to a new time…

RAVEN: Well! Clearly change us all back then! I’ll just fight Bourbon, damn, I didn’t expect this to be so fucking complicated.

SHAWN: It’s adorable watching a child swear.

RAVEN: Everyone get in the fucking time machine!

Shawn and Jackson oblige me, stepping inside before I follow suit.

JACKSON: Are we sure Noah will be back when we age our bodies back to normal?

SHAWN: Yeah, his energy is floating around in here somewhere… like a ghost or something.

Jacksons eyes widen in horror.

Then I see nothing at all.


September 27, 2044
New Toronto, Australialand
Noah Jackson’s Estate

YOUNG GIRL: Grandpa! You said you’d come outside and play!

NOAH: I’m on my way, my precious cunt. Just let me finish what I’m writing.

Noah Jackson sits at his laptop as his granddaughter runs from the room to grab the laser swords and jet pack fuel for playtime. After a few minutes of thought, he continues to hammer away at the keys.

“Raven never did get out of that match with Robbie Bourbon at Relentless. He tried everything, but at a certain point he had to bite the bullet and just follow through. He killed Bourbon. Literally. He beat the guy to a bloody pulp in their sanctioned streetfight and after the match, in the ambulance, Bourbons heart stopped. Doctors think it was years of fatty food consumption and general abuse of his body, but I’m pretty confident it was Raven. After that, Raven drifted away from the XWF again and continued to do legendary shit everywhere he went. I haven’t spoken to him in a few years, but last I heard he was doing well. Rich, and the head of a colony on one of the moons in the Rober-1245X7 galaxy.”

Noah stares at the screen, pondering the next entry.

“Jackson Hart went on to become the GCWA World champion, but things went pretty bad from there. Once he got a taste of the fame, he flew too close to the sun. I’ve heard mixed stories about what happened to him. Some people say he was arrested in Morocco and is currently locked in some mountainside prison, never to see the light of day again… but some people say he died of a drug overdose. Whatever happened, I hope he’s doing well. I miss that cunt.”

Noah smiles warmly, as he reaches the last of his old friends.

“I still see Shawn around from time to time. That makes sense. He’s my dad.”

Noah cracks his knuckles, ready to wrap up.

“So that’s it. That’s the story of Relentless, and it may have taken a couple of decades but I’ve finally fulfilled my promise to Raven of writing it all out for him so that he didn’t have to. You’re welcome, old friend. I’m glad you didn’t have to write anything for Relentless yourself.”

“I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12. Jesus, does anyone?”

“I wasn’t 12 by the way. I just heard that line in a movie once. Cheers cunts.”

YOUNG GIRL: GRANDPA!

NOAH: Coming!

FADE

TO

BLACK]]> [Image: RavenCanada.jpg]
NOAH JACKSON: Go for the takedown, you cunt!

JACKSON HART: Fuck that, he’s wobbled! Knock his ass out!

SHAWN WARSTEIN: Twenty bucks says the referee stops it early.

I’ve gotten used to this sort of chatter. I hear it from my fellow Legacy members each and every day in the gym; but this isn’t our usual setting. There’s no clanging of iron weights in the background, no gasps and grunts of aspiring world champions echoing as I sweat and bleed all over foam grappling mats…

Those familiar sounds are replaced with the clinking of shot glasses, and the clatter of empty beer bottles toppling across wooden countertops. Laughter booms through the room, mirth and merriment in every direction as I tear into the meat of a chicken wing before dropping the bone in a large ceramic bowl.

NOAH: This cunt better not stop it! It’s MMA! Not fucking ballet!

JACKSON: Don’t worry. He’s not gonna stop it.

SHAWN: He’s gonna stop it.


Noah hurls a balled up paper towel across the room at his dad, Jackson Hart flipping Fuzz the middle finger for trying to rain on this parade. Shawn shrugs™ and leans forward to reach for another pizza slice, motioning to the enormous television hanging on the wall.

SHAWN: Fine. We’ll just see what happens, then.

Jackson and Noah return their attention to the screen eagerly. I grin quietly from my chair, finishing the rest of my drink. This whole evening has been nice. You may not be able to tell from some of our public appearances or how easy we make things look in GCWA, but we work hard and fuck it… we’ve earned the opportunity to kick back and relax a little bit. One night of greasy food and massive quantities of alcohol wasn’t going to kill anyone, was it? We can get back to the gym next week.

NOAH: Oh fuck!

JACKSON: Goddamn it! What’s he doing?! Is he fucking stupid?

I glance to the TV screen, watching as the referee dives between the two fighters and separates them, calling an end to the bout. Noah pops out of his seat arms in the air as his face reddens furiously. Jackson looks equally dismayed by the result. I glance over at Shawn, who isn’t even looking at the screen to see the pay-off of his prediction. He grabs a nearby whiskey bottle and begins to refill his glass.

One finger, two fingers… three… four… he stops pouring when the amber liquid nearly reaches the rim of the glass. Well shit. It’s gonna be that sort of night from here on out, huh?

He glances over at me.

He shrugs™.

NOAH: Well, Jax, you owe my dad twenty bucks.

JACKSON: Excuse me?

NOAH: He was very clear, twenty bucks if the ref stopped it early. Pay up.

JACKSON: So are you paying too? You were with me on this one.

NOAH: Are you really trying to deflect attention to me as you welch on a bet? I’m worried about you, cunt. Your degenerate gambling is really changing your character.

JACKSON: Oh, fuck off.

The two continue to bicker as I stand up from my chair, setting my empty glass down on the table amongst the food and discarded bottles. The other three turn to look at me curiously.

JACKSON: Where are you going?

RAVEN: I should probably head out, try and get some sleep.

SHAWN: Seriously? The co-main event is next.

RAVEN: I know, but you know, I got a match tomorrow and shit… so…

NOAH: Yeah, but it’s Bourbon. It’s like wrestling with a fridge, only he’s dumber.

I stare at Noah, blankly. Did I hear him right?

RAVEN: Noah, how often are you wrestling a fridge?

NOAH: As often as I need to in order to keep the cunt in line.

Noah turns towards the kitchen, shaking his fist menacingly at nobody in particular… well, I guess at an appliance. Jackson is as confused as I am, but it’s Shawn to move on first.

SHAWN: Fuck Robbie Bourbon, man. Do what I did, just log out.

RAVEN: Huh?

SHAWN: Leave. I meant just leave. My bad, I’m pretty drunk.

RAVEN: I can’t just leave. The whole reason Robbie’s butt hurt in the first place is because I didn’t give him the attention he thought he deserved.

NOAH: Well, I submit to you this… in the words of a great man… “fuck Robbie Bourbon, man”.

I roll my eyes.

JACKSON: They kind of have a point. You’re not on the XWF roster. You don’t care what Bourbon thinks. Soooo… you don’t owe anyone anything.

I think it over for a second.

RAVEN: The fans?

Shawn and Noah throw their hands in the air in mock horror, Jackson slapping his palms to his cheeks as he flashes me the Macaulay Caulkin.[/color][/b]

SHAWN: How did we forget about the fans?!

NOAH: We can’t upset the precious fans!

JACKSON: We’re monstrous!

I shoot daggers at Jackson.

RAVEN: You’re getting real cocky for a guy that had his first match, like, three months ago.

Shawn and Noah cackle wildly, and call both of us cunts. That’s fair.

JACKSON: Just be a good cunt and sit back down, have another drink, party for a while. These next two fights are going to be sick, cunt!

I shake my head and take a few steps away from my seat towards the front door.

RAVEN: I can’t. I said I would do it, so I’m going to do it. I just wish I had never said yes in the first place. It seemed like a fun idea at the time, but now? It’s just, so… “meh”…

Noah looks to Shawn suddenly with a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

NOAH: So what you’re saying is you wish you could go back in time? Maybe stop yourself from saying yes? Maybe sleep with your own mother? Maybe write Johnny B Goode for Chuck Berry?

RAVEN: Stop myself from saying yes, sure. I don’t know about the rest of it.

Shawn takes a slow bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully.

SHAWN: We have a time machine.

RAVEN: Very funny.

SHAWN: No. For real. We have one. It’s in the garage.

I look to Noah, who nods his head wildly. I glance to Jackson, who seems at the very least intrigued by whatever’s coming next. Finally I turn back to Shawn.

He shrugs.

™.



Do you know the crazy thing about innovation, Robbie?

It’s easily confused.

People like you seem to think that just because you march to the beat of your own drum, walk off the beaten path and spew a bunch of nonsense that the majority of us don’t understand… that you’re somehow a game changer, or a revolutionary. Half the joke to you is laughing at the normies that don’t get it. You’re not an innovator, Robbie, you’re the XWF’s resident hipster.

We get it.

You’re different.

You’re an outlier.

You’re not an innovator.

To be an innovator people need to follow in your footsteps. People need to recognize your moves as beneficial to themselves and a path of less resistance than their own. They need to be inspired to follow where you lead. Who has ever followed you anywhere? Bearded War Pig? And… I’ll wait. Even if you can rattle off a few names, where has it gotten them? Who can honestly sit down, look at their careers and say “I’m better for having followed the blueprint that fat fuck in a mask drew up”?

Fucking nobody, Robbie.

You’re not an innovator, you’re just fucking weird.

Now, ME on the other hand? I am exactly what you pretend to be. There are rules in place in the XWF because of me, there are World champions that have modeled their game after me or learned under my wing, and there is an endless line of jock sniffing clout chasers like yourself begging me back into the ring every time they think that I’m ripe for the picking… knowing that a win over me elevates them to heights they’ve never even seen before. Just ask-

Fuck it, you already know.

I made you more than you’ve made you, Robbie, and here you are two years later begging for a second chance at the fucking teat because no matter how many breifcases they dangle in front of you or tournaments they toss you into with favorable seeding… you just can’t get over that hump on your own… Chris Chaos is legally and he’s going to get a Universal title shot. Chris Page hasn’t won a match since like 2017 and could weasel his way in there again before you could.

Robert Main.

Sarah Lacklan.

Madison Dyson.

How many names do I need to mention here? I can keep going. Dozens of names that the fans and management alike would put ahead of you in drawing power, wrestling ability and general pleasantness to work with. Seriously, your breath smells like Gilmour shit in your mouth. Floss. How long have you been here Robbie? How long have you had to elevate yourself but been unable to do it, as wave after wave of new talent comes in and overshadows your inconsistency?

You. Are not. An innovator.

You’re the asshole wandering off to the side by himself, shouting loudly while the rest of us carry out our business… but another win over me changes all of that… it puts you back on the map.

Good luck.


RAVEN: WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!

SHAWN: Time travel just happened, baby.

JACKSON: Why can’t I see anything?

SHAWN: I can’t explain how a time machine works to you, man. You just have to try to keep up. Everything will go back to normal when we step outside, trust me. Now remember, we’re only trying to get Raven and Bourbon not to fight at Relentless. Anything else we change can send major ripple effects through the timeline that we know.

JACKSON: What sort of ripple effects?

NOAH: There’s no way of knowing. It could be anything from Mike Tyson marrying the Queen of England to Barney Green owning the XWF.

RAVEN: Good Christ.

SHAWN: No pressure.

RAVEN: I’m having second thoughts. We shouldn’t be doing this. I’ll just fight Bourbon. I’ll phone in some half assed effort and it won’t be that bad. Fuck, it’ll be more than I can say for my last effort.

NOAH: Shut up, cunt! We’re getting that match cancelled! Now everyone out of the machine!

SHAWN: Hang on, Noah… what did you set the date to?

NOAH: I set it to go back twenty days. I thought that ought to be enough.

SHAWN: It’s not “back twenty days”, it’s to the 20th, but… the year… you’ve got us going back to the 90’s...

JACKSON: What?!?!

SHAWN: And… and… it’s set to internal…

RAVEN: What does that mean?

NOAH: Oh, son of a cunt.

SHAWN: Everybody out.



James Raven is basic.

James Raven is cake.

James Raven is a Ronald McDonald with tits.

All week I’ve listened to that sort nonsense, but at no point has Robbie Bourbon said “James Raven is a worse wrestler than I am” or “James Raven has a worse resume”. I get it Robbie, your absurdist bull shit is all you can cling to when there are no legitimate points left to raise. You release promos that are nothing more than verbal diarrhea packaged with the notion that if you talk for a long time AT me it counts more than saying something meaningful TO me.

You have no legs to stand on, Robbie, and to the surprise of most it had nothing to do with diabetes.

You don’t get to lecture me about how the XWF is all about fun, but then try to shame me for bringing my friends along to have a good time. I hate to break it to you, but a rematch with you wasn’t really a selling point if I had to come alone… oh, and since you were so eager to drag Atara into this she says “Fuck off, Dove”.

You don’t get to tell the fans and I that you’re over our previous match up when it was LITERALLY the only reason for you to be chasing after me two years later, and I don’t even work for this company anymore.

We’ve talked enough, Robbie, one of us more effectively than the other.

Time to settle this.

G.O.A.T.

Vs

Innovator

For Legacy

Fear the Raven… Forevermore…




Something has gone horrifically wrong.

That much is clear to me, now that we’re outside of the machine and my vision is restored. We’re still standing in Shawn’s garage, everything exactly the same as we had left it… but…

JACKSON: Why am I small?

Yep. There it is.

Jackson stands in front of me, his cheeks plump and cherubic and his hair messy and matted down to his forehead as he stares at me with bright and innocent eyes. I’d say he’s maybe four years old?

SHAWN: Whoa, so you were a little chubby kid, weren’t you Jax?

Shawn looks older. Maybe twelve? I don’t really know how to describe his look other than as a kid that you KNOW sat through a lot of detentions. He scratches his forehead in frustration. This isn’t what he had planned.

RAVEN: What happened? What year are we in?

My voice is high pitched, and what I meant to be a demanding question comes across as sing song bull shit.

SHAWN: Noah set the machine wrong. We’re still in 2020.

JACKSON: Huh?

SHAWN: There’s an interior and an exterior setting. Exterior travels back to the time you set, interior, it travels whatever’s inside back… but the machine never actually travels… does that make sense?

RAVEN: NO!!!

SHAWN: Well, it’s time travel, it’s complicated stuff. Don’t worry your little first grade head about it.

I’m going to flip out. I want to hit Shawn but he’s twice my size right now. I’ll remember this later. It suddenly occurs to me that Noah hasn’t spoken since leaving the time machine.

RAVEN: Where’s the cunt?

SHAWN: Not born yet.

RAVEN: So… where is he? Is he still in the time machine? Did he… cease to exist?

SHAWN: He exists inside all of us. In our hearts.

I hate Shawn sometimes. I really really do.

RAVEN: This is strange. It’s terrible. I don’t like it. All I wanted to do was get out of fighting Robbie Bourbon!

JACKSON: Look, it’s fine, we made a mistake. Just change all of us back, and then we go to the time we meant to go to. No problem.

SHAWN: Small problem. This thing doesn’t run on energizer batteries. The energy takes forever to build up, we have enough juice to do one or the other… change back, or jump to a new time…

RAVEN: Well! Clearly change us all back then! I’ll just fight Bourbon, damn, I didn’t expect this to be so fucking complicated.

SHAWN: It’s adorable watching a child swear.

RAVEN: Everyone get in the fucking time machine!

Shawn and Jackson oblige me, stepping inside before I follow suit.

JACKSON: Are we sure Noah will be back when we age our bodies back to normal?

SHAWN: Yeah, his energy is floating around in here somewhere… like a ghost or something.

Jacksons eyes widen in horror.

Then I see nothing at all.


September 27, 2044
New Toronto, Australialand
Noah Jackson’s Estate

YOUNG GIRL: Grandpa! You said you’d come outside and play!

NOAH: I’m on my way, my precious cunt. Just let me finish what I’m writing.

Noah Jackson sits at his laptop as his granddaughter runs from the room to grab the laser swords and jet pack fuel for playtime. After a few minutes of thought, he continues to hammer away at the keys.

“Raven never did get out of that match with Robbie Bourbon at Relentless. He tried everything, but at a certain point he had to bite the bullet and just follow through. He killed Bourbon. Literally. He beat the guy to a bloody pulp in their sanctioned streetfight and after the match, in the ambulance, Bourbons heart stopped. Doctors think it was years of fatty food consumption and general abuse of his body, but I’m pretty confident it was Raven. After that, Raven drifted away from the XWF again and continued to do legendary shit everywhere he went. I haven’t spoken to him in a few years, but last I heard he was doing well. Rich, and the head of a colony on one of the moons in the Rober-1245X7 galaxy.”

Noah stares at the screen, pondering the next entry.

“Jackson Hart went on to become the GCWA World champion, but things went pretty bad from there. Once he got a taste of the fame, he flew too close to the sun. I’ve heard mixed stories about what happened to him. Some people say he was arrested in Morocco and is currently locked in some mountainside prison, never to see the light of day again… but some people say he died of a drug overdose. Whatever happened, I hope he’s doing well. I miss that cunt.”

Noah smiles warmly, as he reaches the last of his old friends.

“I still see Shawn around from time to time. That makes sense. He’s my dad.”

Noah cracks his knuckles, ready to wrap up.

“So that’s it. That’s the story of Relentless, and it may have taken a couple of decades but I’ve finally fulfilled my promise to Raven of writing it all out for him so that he didn’t have to. You’re welcome, old friend. I’m glad you didn’t have to write anything for Relentless yourself.”

“I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12. Jesus, does anyone?”

“I wasn’t 12 by the way. I just heard that line in a movie once. Cheers cunts.”

YOUNG GIRL: GRANDPA!

NOAH: Coming!

FADE

TO

BLACK]]> <![CDATA[I Wish I Cared More.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38346 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 23:49:33 -0700 Chris Chaos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38346
So, why Chris Chaos?

Haven’t I beat him enough?

Haven’t I castrated him enough?

Haven’t I proven time and time again that he’s just not on my level?

I’ll answer number one in a minute. Yes. Ehhh, debatable. Emphatic yes.

"Yes Thad. Yes you have. Keep patting yourself on the back. It's quite the accomplishment. An accomplishment you can't seem to get enough of, apparently. All of those points above, yet you still want more. I guess the only question left is why? What hole is there still left to fill? What emptiness inside do you still have? What hurt do you still feel?

Or is it jealousy? Is that what that tingly feeling in your belly is, Thad, jealousy? You went on to tell the world that you wanted to add another shiny trophy to that case of yours and beat me when I became number one contender. Beat me when I am not 100 percent, and when I have no incentive to fight you. That's a real A plus there. You talk about how you want to go undefeated at Relentless. You pat yourself on the back like an autistic boy who tied his shoes for the first time.

"LOOK MA! I DIDS IT!"

Why?

Validation. Thad, face it, you sit in a pile of mediocrity and you mask it with brash arrogance and bravado. All it is is a cry for attention. You've never been what I am, and you are realizing you can't ever be. You want to rub in my face all of the times I've been down and kicked twice over. All the times I have been looked at as the joke, as the company's proverbial punching bag. Sure. Great. But would you have sought me out had I lost that match? Stipulation or not, if I didn't have something to gain and was just another fall from grace who lost on the first night, would you have wanted anything to do with me again?

No, Thad. You wouldn't have.

Because despite all of my shortcomings I have the one thing you've never had.........I have been Universal Champion. I continue to get shots. I continue to stay relevant. I can't count on my appendages how many big matches I have been in. Yours are big because you tell yourself they're big, but you are just another Peter Gilmour or Mastermind when you think about it. You don't get half the fame, half the ratings, half the benefits that I get. And you try soooooooo hard at this. So hard at building your image. So hard at being the good guy. A role model. A solid person. Thad, you're a nothing and it kills you inside. No matter how much dick you suck, you'll never be on the right side of the establishment.

I am the joke with the punchline that people have to keep hearing again. You want what I have Thad, and you just can't seem to grasp it.

You made it a goal of yours to expose me? Sounds like some Mean Girls shit. Oooooooh Thaddy boy is feeling petty eh? Just because you'll never be better than the Television Title division you want to come at the one man who has it all in his palm, the one man who can literally lose 5 times in 5 title matches consecutively and KEEP getting shots. You hate me because you can't be me, Thad.

If I’m a midcard talent, if I’m not good enough to matter and you lose to me like you always do, what does that say about you?

It says I am a whole lot better than you. You don't get shots. Your going to be undefeated at the biggest Pay Per View of the year and still sit in the back and watch me face Sarah. and if I lose? I'll get another shot. And another. You? You'll age too quick for your skill set and fizzle out like the rest of the overinflated ego's around here. Father time is not kind when you have nothing to offer him.

Yes, I’m better than you Chris. I always have been and I always will be so if I’m a mid-carder man, you gotta be jerkin’ the curtain.

See? There it is again. That "I know you are but what am I" playground mentality. That wall of defense you put around yourself because you hate yourself and you hate what you've become. You sought me out because beating me will make YOU feel better. I said it before and I'll say it again. Hell I'll shout it to the heavens.

BEATING ME MEANS NOTHING

Only to you. I will continue to get the best air time, the most thrilling storylines, the top title shots. You will continue to sit there and work on your GI Joe meets Battle Star Galactica fanfiction piece you keep boring us with. Nobody reads, listens or cares. We've written you off a long time ago, Thad. We've long since passed on.

You haven't. You just can't let it go. You have to have your face in the spotlight, you just have to gobble up that last piece of pie. You want so desperately to be in the club, but while we are popping bottles with models and doing drugs with celebrities, you're outside parking our cars.

That is how its always been, Thad. That is how it will always be.

You're coming into this match with something to prove to yourself. Good. I have zero motivation. I don't care. Beating you is insignificant. A win over me at Relentless is a notch in the bed post of a bed that hasn't been slept in in years. Nobody will come looking for that accomplishment and say "Oh my god, look! That's when Thaddeus Duke beat Chris Chaos again!"

They'll be too busy watching me beat Sarah Lacklan.

I chose to face Chris Chaos because I know the very sight of me makes his skin crawl and his blood boil.

It's the other way around, Thad. It's always been the other way around. You project your insecurities well. You're a master of deflection. So I hope you trained hard. I hope you did your pushups and finished your Wheaties because this is the last game of the season. I am resting my starters for the playoffs, you're trying to make them. I hope you are prepared and take this seriously because I sure as hell am not.

I chose to face you because I want you to remember where you belong in the pecking order. I chose to end my boredom and leave my luxury hotel suit to get a little cardio in quite simply…

Because I can. ]]>
So, why Chris Chaos?

Haven’t I beat him enough?

Haven’t I castrated him enough?

Haven’t I proven time and time again that he’s just not on my level?

I’ll answer number one in a minute. Yes. Ehhh, debatable. Emphatic yes.

"Yes Thad. Yes you have. Keep patting yourself on the back. It's quite the accomplishment. An accomplishment you can't seem to get enough of, apparently. All of those points above, yet you still want more. I guess the only question left is why? What hole is there still left to fill? What emptiness inside do you still have? What hurt do you still feel?

Or is it jealousy? Is that what that tingly feeling in your belly is, Thad, jealousy? You went on to tell the world that you wanted to add another shiny trophy to that case of yours and beat me when I became number one contender. Beat me when I am not 100 percent, and when I have no incentive to fight you. That's a real A plus there. You talk about how you want to go undefeated at Relentless. You pat yourself on the back like an autistic boy who tied his shoes for the first time.

"LOOK MA! I DIDS IT!"

Why?

Validation. Thad, face it, you sit in a pile of mediocrity and you mask it with brash arrogance and bravado. All it is is a cry for attention. You've never been what I am, and you are realizing you can't ever be. You want to rub in my face all of the times I've been down and kicked twice over. All the times I have been looked at as the joke, as the company's proverbial punching bag. Sure. Great. But would you have sought me out had I lost that match? Stipulation or not, if I didn't have something to gain and was just another fall from grace who lost on the first night, would you have wanted anything to do with me again?

No, Thad. You wouldn't have.

Because despite all of my shortcomings I have the one thing you've never had.........I have been Universal Champion. I continue to get shots. I continue to stay relevant. I can't count on my appendages how many big matches I have been in. Yours are big because you tell yourself they're big, but you are just another Peter Gilmour or Mastermind when you think about it. You don't get half the fame, half the ratings, half the benefits that I get. And you try soooooooo hard at this. So hard at building your image. So hard at being the good guy. A role model. A solid person. Thad, you're a nothing and it kills you inside. No matter how much dick you suck, you'll never be on the right side of the establishment.

I am the joke with the punchline that people have to keep hearing again. You want what I have Thad, and you just can't seem to grasp it.

You made it a goal of yours to expose me? Sounds like some Mean Girls shit. Oooooooh Thaddy boy is feeling petty eh? Just because you'll never be better than the Television Title division you want to come at the one man who has it all in his palm, the one man who can literally lose 5 times in 5 title matches consecutively and KEEP getting shots. You hate me because you can't be me, Thad.

If I’m a midcard talent, if I’m not good enough to matter and you lose to me like you always do, what does that say about you?

It says I am a whole lot better than you. You don't get shots. Your going to be undefeated at the biggest Pay Per View of the year and still sit in the back and watch me face Sarah. and if I lose? I'll get another shot. And another. You? You'll age too quick for your skill set and fizzle out like the rest of the overinflated ego's around here. Father time is not kind when you have nothing to offer him.

Yes, I’m better than you Chris. I always have been and I always will be so if I’m a mid-carder man, you gotta be jerkin’ the curtain.

See? There it is again. That "I know you are but what am I" playground mentality. That wall of defense you put around yourself because you hate yourself and you hate what you've become. You sought me out because beating me will make YOU feel better. I said it before and I'll say it again. Hell I'll shout it to the heavens.

BEATING ME MEANS NOTHING

Only to you. I will continue to get the best air time, the most thrilling storylines, the top title shots. You will continue to sit there and work on your GI Joe meets Battle Star Galactica fanfiction piece you keep boring us with. Nobody reads, listens or cares. We've written you off a long time ago, Thad. We've long since passed on.

You haven't. You just can't let it go. You have to have your face in the spotlight, you just have to gobble up that last piece of pie. You want so desperately to be in the club, but while we are popping bottles with models and doing drugs with celebrities, you're outside parking our cars.

That is how its always been, Thad. That is how it will always be.

You're coming into this match with something to prove to yourself. Good. I have zero motivation. I don't care. Beating you is insignificant. A win over me at Relentless is a notch in the bed post of a bed that hasn't been slept in in years. Nobody will come looking for that accomplishment and say "Oh my god, look! That's when Thaddeus Duke beat Chris Chaos again!"

They'll be too busy watching me beat Sarah Lacklan.

I chose to face Chris Chaos because I know the very sight of me makes his skin crawl and his blood boil.

It's the other way around, Thad. It's always been the other way around. You project your insecurities well. You're a master of deflection. So I hope you trained hard. I hope you did your pushups and finished your Wheaties because this is the last game of the season. I am resting my starters for the playoffs, you're trying to make them. I hope you are prepared and take this seriously because I sure as hell am not.

I chose to face you because I want you to remember where you belong in the pecking order. I chose to end my boredom and leave my luxury hotel suit to get a little cardio in quite simply…

Because I can. ]]> <![CDATA[La colección]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38345 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 23:02:21 -0700 Hanari Carnes]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38345 [Image: ZLDyE9Z.jpg]
You know what the best thing about cigars are? They're all unique. Each and every one of them are different in their own way. They are made of different things, rolled differently, burn different. But each one is beautiful in its own way as well. Each one is carefully selected before use.

There is a precision to it. Each one has a story, each one has a reason for being special. That is what Hanari loved about cigars. He studied them, he took pride in knowing about them and he took pride in collecting them. Each one represented something special in his life, and he could tell you a story about each and every one of them.

Master

Aficionado

It's an earned title. Acquired, expert. Only the best.

Each label meant something. Each country had a different flavor, and some even had multiple flavors.

Hanari sat in front of his open box, looking at his collection of the finest cigars in the Western Hemisphere. He ran his fingers over the plastic coverings, admiring each one on a personal level. The box sat on a large table in the center of the room, a window overlooking the rolling hills outside Santo Domingo.

When he sat here, he felt home.

Cigars were such a big part of his life, from childhood until now, and he smoked at least one a day. Usually more. But this box, this box was different. This box was for when he won. Each cigar represented a victim, and a future one. This was his celebration box.


Hanari was very careful to select his cigar this time. For this was a special occasion. This was going to be another victim of the flame, but this one was on the biggest show of the year.

He picked through his victim box, reading the brand names, the locations, the years. This one had to be perfect.

When his eyes caught the right one, he could feel it in his soul. This one was going to be different. Carefully removing it, he closed the box, locking it after. He walked out to his porch, his Gucci shoes making the ever so familiar click clack with every step onto his marble floor. He slid open the back door to where he sat when he wanted to relax. This was a relaxing night. While Dick Powers was busy being frantic and throwing together a hastily done bitch fest about everything other than the pure unmitigate dhell facing him in 24 hours, Hanari would kick back and relax. High end cigar, top shelf tequila and nothing but the crickets.

"To the victor goes the spoils"

He poured himself a shot.


[Image: YQGkvgN.jpg]

"Dick,

You spent all that time, all that energy, and you didn't once talk about our match. All you did was show the world that you can watch a promo and analyze it, then put a funny spin on it mixed with racist jokes and sex references. My man, listen, it's simple. I am going to say the same thing about you that I said about Johnny Legend because it applies to you, just like it applies to him. You're a gimmick. That is all you are. You're a gimmick who makes people laugh. You aren't skilled. Inside that ring, I am a surgeon. I am precision to a T. You're just there for the pay check.

You may be able to analyze a promo, but do you really understand it? Or for that matter, do you understand anything besides sex? Chico, your memory must be fading, either that or I am convinced that you talk out of your ass. Like one of those kids who talks just for the sake of talking. We used to smack those kids around.

"If he can get into a number one contender's match after being basically absent for the last 3 months, I can buy my way into one!"

I mean, I know that YOU have only been in two matches in the last 6 months, but chico...really? I mean, you must own a television at home? I have been the face of Saturday Night's. I fight every single Saturday. I don't just win, I dominate. I make people tap out. I am on a roll...some may call it a ....hot streak........."

*He pulls the cigar out of the plastic wrapper and holds it between his fingers.*

"Because from the looks of your floundering and failing over and over again it seems like you're actually proud of being the blank space between the lines".

"Tonight you want to say that I flounder and fail over and over? One, that's pure bullshit, but what is more flabbergasting is the fact that your forgot what you said in your last promo."

basically absent for the last 3 months
floundering and failing over and over again

"It must be a side effect for this dick pills you take. You may want to get that checked out, holmes. Could be serious. You see, I don't just talk for the sake of talking. I have proof to back up everything I say. You are so curious as to who I am and why I have this match, take a look at my damn track record. I don't need to sit here and reiterate to you my accomplishments, but in the situation we're in.....I was going to get this match regardless, it was all a matter of who they felt like feeding to me. The suits in the back enjoy your promo's, as do the fans, because let's face it you are funny. You're a funny guy. But me.....homie I have put more people out than polio. People aren't the same after they face me, and it's a proven fact. Do I win every single match I am in? No. It would be ludacris to think I did, or would, but I damn sure compete. This is your undoing....you're coming into this match far too cocky. You seem like the type of guy who pulls out to come on his own chest. You look like the kind of guy who sits in kids movies by himself just to look at children. You also look like like the androgyny of 80’s hair metal and the concept of entry-level jobs fucked and had a disappointing baby. Your picture should be on every box Trojan produces.

I digress.

This isn't about how people look, its about how they fight and so far all you've talked about is every other than the task at hand. Defeating Hanari Carnes, and its a tall task indeed.

To me, you are just a cigar in the box. You're special in your own way, but at the end of the day you get burned like the rest. Go ahead, be as unique as your heart desires but you still end up at the end of the Hanari Carnes flame. Go ahead and be as funny as you want, but it doesn't make you any less of a victim. This is an X-Treme rules match, and I am not sure you understand the magnitude of that. This is for a shot at Robert Main and the title that some two bit punk in face makeup stole from me while I was on vacation. This is a chance at a title that is ranked the second highest in this company. I have held it, and I am going to hold it again. I have never once been able to get my hands on Robert Main one on one in a match that mattered, its either a tag or a triple threat. He does that, he is a firm believer in the buddy system. You can make all the comparison's you want, but your entire promo showed exactly what you are and what you're about. It's all a joke to you. Life is one big joke filled fuck fest to you. Do you honestly think people are impressed? I think they feel sorry for you by this point but still laugh to prevent you from hanging yourself.

You have your priorities all wrong. You said you want star of the month for your performance at Relentless. Material things, petty. You put all your effort into these promo's but they still haven't gotten you wins. All of this humor jammed into one cum sock, and what do you have to show for it? 0-2 at the last two Pay Per Views. Did being a clown work then? You can be as funny as you want, as brutally straight forward and in your face as you want but facts are facts homie...when the bell rings you don't get the job done. I'd rather win matches with grit and determination than Promo of the month with witty phrases. I'd rather get into the ring and break arms like its going out of style. Am I boring? Sure, but I'd rather be boring and successful. I am a man of the finer tastes. Finer wines, finer cigars, top shelf tequila the best of designer clothes and cars. I bet your house smells like a combination of a two day old bowl of popcorn and fat girls.

We are not on the same level. You ask me where I plan to be in five years? Whats my end goal? I plan to have my legacy already paved in gold by then, and maybe at that point I can have the luxury of having your scheduele. I haven't really thought about it.

You see, what you may not know about me is that I have earned everything I have here. I came within a cunthair of being Universal Champion, and I had to fight my ass off to even be considered. This isn't affirmative action, shit isn't just handed to you here. If you're too brain dead to figure out my message in my last promo and why i did what I did with the girl, that's a you problem homie. That's a you problem. I am sorry about the subtitles, by the way. Next time I wouldn't be so courteous and just let you figure it out on your own. That ought to be fun. Like watching a try to beat Jenga. It won't last long.

After watching and listening intently to both of your promos, which were a dreadful combination of "Wayne's World" meets "Dude Where's My Car", I realized the most profound thing. I realized that I , Dick, I am nothing like you. I don't talk like you, I don't have witty insults off the cusp, I don't make goofy comparison's to other roster members that are oddly true (Charlie Nickles is basically a barbwire baseball bat with a poodle perm was a good one I have to admit). I have my style, unique to me. I am rolled a certain way, made from a certain leaf. That's okay that we're different, because if you're enjoying being you, then that's all you can do, right?

*Hanari runs his hand over his favorite Dominican Cigar before bringing it to his lips.*

"You aren't going to like yourself very much tomorrow night. I am going to torture you inside that ring. I am going to make you wish you stayed in school and spent more time in the library than the frat house. There is no room for comedy when that bell rings, and our contrasting styles? Fuck a promo, fuck every promo in the world, we're gonna see just which style translate to a W at the company's biggest show.

*He lights the cigar, puffing out small rings as the flame scorches the end. It burns so smooth.*

"You know, I used to speak with a horrendous accent. I used to lay it on thick, for camera purposes. Now THAT was corny. You would have had a field day in front of the little red light back then, Dick, but.....the results would be the same. Everyone would laugh, cheer high five each other, and talk about how "rad" and "dope" and "fucking sweet" Dick Power's promo was.......but when the chips tumbled to the table, it would have been Hanari Carnes coming out the victor.

*He takes another puff.*

"To the victor goes the spoils."

"The blandest man on the planet."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

[Image: LzfYS72.png]
]]> [Image: ZLDyE9Z.jpg]
You know what the best thing about cigars are? They're all unique. Each and every one of them are different in their own way. They are made of different things, rolled differently, burn different. But each one is beautiful in its own way as well. Each one is carefully selected before use.

There is a precision to it. Each one has a story, each one has a reason for being special. That is what Hanari loved about cigars. He studied them, he took pride in knowing about them and he took pride in collecting them. Each one represented something special in his life, and he could tell you a story about each and every one of them.

Master

Aficionado

It's an earned title. Acquired, expert. Only the best.

Each label meant something. Each country had a different flavor, and some even had multiple flavors.

Hanari sat in front of his open box, looking at his collection of the finest cigars in the Western Hemisphere. He ran his fingers over the plastic coverings, admiring each one on a personal level. The box sat on a large table in the center of the room, a window overlooking the rolling hills outside Santo Domingo.

When he sat here, he felt home.

Cigars were such a big part of his life, from childhood until now, and he smoked at least one a day. Usually more. But this box, this box was different. This box was for when he won. Each cigar represented a victim, and a future one. This was his celebration box.


Hanari was very careful to select his cigar this time. For this was a special occasion. This was going to be another victim of the flame, but this one was on the biggest show of the year.

He picked through his victim box, reading the brand names, the locations, the years. This one had to be perfect.

When his eyes caught the right one, he could feel it in his soul. This one was going to be different. Carefully removing it, he closed the box, locking it after. He walked out to his porch, his Gucci shoes making the ever so familiar click clack with every step onto his marble floor. He slid open the back door to where he sat when he wanted to relax. This was a relaxing night. While Dick Powers was busy being frantic and throwing together a hastily done bitch fest about everything other than the pure unmitigate dhell facing him in 24 hours, Hanari would kick back and relax. High end cigar, top shelf tequila and nothing but the crickets.

"To the victor goes the spoils"

He poured himself a shot.


[Image: YQGkvgN.jpg]

"Dick,

You spent all that time, all that energy, and you didn't once talk about our match. All you did was show the world that you can watch a promo and analyze it, then put a funny spin on it mixed with racist jokes and sex references. My man, listen, it's simple. I am going to say the same thing about you that I said about Johnny Legend because it applies to you, just like it applies to him. You're a gimmick. That is all you are. You're a gimmick who makes people laugh. You aren't skilled. Inside that ring, I am a surgeon. I am precision to a T. You're just there for the pay check.

You may be able to analyze a promo, but do you really understand it? Or for that matter, do you understand anything besides sex? Chico, your memory must be fading, either that or I am convinced that you talk out of your ass. Like one of those kids who talks just for the sake of talking. We used to smack those kids around.

"If he can get into a number one contender's match after being basically absent for the last 3 months, I can buy my way into one!"

I mean, I know that YOU have only been in two matches in the last 6 months, but chico...really? I mean, you must own a television at home? I have been the face of Saturday Night's. I fight every single Saturday. I don't just win, I dominate. I make people tap out. I am on a roll...some may call it a ....hot streak........."

*He pulls the cigar out of the plastic wrapper and holds it between his fingers.*

"Because from the looks of your floundering and failing over and over again it seems like you're actually proud of being the blank space between the lines".

"Tonight you want to say that I flounder and fail over and over? One, that's pure bullshit, but what is more flabbergasting is the fact that your forgot what you said in your last promo."

basically absent for the last 3 months
floundering and failing over and over again

"It must be a side effect for this dick pills you take. You may want to get that checked out, holmes. Could be serious. You see, I don't just talk for the sake of talking. I have proof to back up everything I say. You are so curious as to who I am and why I have this match, take a look at my damn track record. I don't need to sit here and reiterate to you my accomplishments, but in the situation we're in.....I was going to get this match regardless, it was all a matter of who they felt like feeding to me. The suits in the back enjoy your promo's, as do the fans, because let's face it you are funny. You're a funny guy. But me.....homie I have put more people out than polio. People aren't the same after they face me, and it's a proven fact. Do I win every single match I am in? No. It would be ludacris to think I did, or would, but I damn sure compete. This is your undoing....you're coming into this match far too cocky. You seem like the type of guy who pulls out to come on his own chest. You look like the kind of guy who sits in kids movies by himself just to look at children. You also look like like the androgyny of 80’s hair metal and the concept of entry-level jobs fucked and had a disappointing baby. Your picture should be on every box Trojan produces.

I digress.

This isn't about how people look, its about how they fight and so far all you've talked about is every other than the task at hand. Defeating Hanari Carnes, and its a tall task indeed.

To me, you are just a cigar in the box. You're special in your own way, but at the end of the day you get burned like the rest. Go ahead, be as unique as your heart desires but you still end up at the end of the Hanari Carnes flame. Go ahead and be as funny as you want, but it doesn't make you any less of a victim. This is an X-Treme rules match, and I am not sure you understand the magnitude of that. This is for a shot at Robert Main and the title that some two bit punk in face makeup stole from me while I was on vacation. This is a chance at a title that is ranked the second highest in this company. I have held it, and I am going to hold it again. I have never once been able to get my hands on Robert Main one on one in a match that mattered, its either a tag or a triple threat. He does that, he is a firm believer in the buddy system. You can make all the comparison's you want, but your entire promo showed exactly what you are and what you're about. It's all a joke to you. Life is one big joke filled fuck fest to you. Do you honestly think people are impressed? I think they feel sorry for you by this point but still laugh to prevent you from hanging yourself.

You have your priorities all wrong. You said you want star of the month for your performance at Relentless. Material things, petty. You put all your effort into these promo's but they still haven't gotten you wins. All of this humor jammed into one cum sock, and what do you have to show for it? 0-2 at the last two Pay Per Views. Did being a clown work then? You can be as funny as you want, as brutally straight forward and in your face as you want but facts are facts homie...when the bell rings you don't get the job done. I'd rather win matches with grit and determination than Promo of the month with witty phrases. I'd rather get into the ring and break arms like its going out of style. Am I boring? Sure, but I'd rather be boring and successful. I am a man of the finer tastes. Finer wines, finer cigars, top shelf tequila the best of designer clothes and cars. I bet your house smells like a combination of a two day old bowl of popcorn and fat girls.

We are not on the same level. You ask me where I plan to be in five years? Whats my end goal? I plan to have my legacy already paved in gold by then, and maybe at that point I can have the luxury of having your scheduele. I haven't really thought about it.

You see, what you may not know about me is that I have earned everything I have here. I came within a cunthair of being Universal Champion, and I had to fight my ass off to even be considered. This isn't affirmative action, shit isn't just handed to you here. If you're too brain dead to figure out my message in my last promo and why i did what I did with the girl, that's a you problem homie. That's a you problem. I am sorry about the subtitles, by the way. Next time I wouldn't be so courteous and just let you figure it out on your own. That ought to be fun. Like watching a try to beat Jenga. It won't last long.

After watching and listening intently to both of your promos, which were a dreadful combination of "Wayne's World" meets "Dude Where's My Car", I realized the most profound thing. I realized that I , Dick, I am nothing like you. I don't talk like you, I don't have witty insults off the cusp, I don't make goofy comparison's to other roster members that are oddly true (Charlie Nickles is basically a barbwire baseball bat with a poodle perm was a good one I have to admit). I have my style, unique to me. I am rolled a certain way, made from a certain leaf. That's okay that we're different, because if you're enjoying being you, then that's all you can do, right?

*Hanari runs his hand over his favorite Dominican Cigar before bringing it to his lips.*

"You aren't going to like yourself very much tomorrow night. I am going to torture you inside that ring. I am going to make you wish you stayed in school and spent more time in the library than the frat house. There is no room for comedy when that bell rings, and our contrasting styles? Fuck a promo, fuck every promo in the world, we're gonna see just which style translate to a W at the company's biggest show.

*He lights the cigar, puffing out small rings as the flame scorches the end. It burns so smooth.*

"You know, I used to speak with a horrendous accent. I used to lay it on thick, for camera purposes. Now THAT was corny. You would have had a field day in front of the little red light back then, Dick, but.....the results would be the same. Everyone would laugh, cheer high five each other, and talk about how "rad" and "dope" and "fucking sweet" Dick Power's promo was.......but when the chips tumbled to the table, it would have been Hanari Carnes coming out the victor.

*He takes another puff.*

"To the victor goes the spoils."

"The blandest man on the planet."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

[Image: LzfYS72.png]
]]> <![CDATA[Girl Meets Boy: RP#1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38343 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 22:28:00 -0700 TD1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38343
Starbucks || Downtown Old Saybrook, Connecticut


Collecting my thoughts in Thad’s car, sitting in the parking lot of a Starbucks in downtown Old Saybrook, I begin to wonder if I’m doing the right thing. What I didn’t tell Thaddeus or anyone is that I’m meeting with Garrett Wentworth, the young man that has stolen my comfort and object of my boyfriends desire from me.

In all honesty, part of me is just like ‘go with the flow, see what happens.’ Then another part is like ‘you fucking idiot, run like hell!’ And there’s another part of me that says ‘girl, you’re fucking a 21 year old and he wants to fuck a 19 year old and you’re 30. GROW UP!’ This has a lot of moving parts.

I see Garrett sitting inside. His pink hair tips are hard to miss. I don’t really know what I expect to gain from this meeting. I don’t know Garrett well enough to gauge just how this will pan out. He waves at me with a smile from his table and now I’m locked in. I thought about just backing out and going back home but now he’s seen me and it’s too late. There’s no turning back now. After turning off the car, I head inside and sit across from him, really not knowing where or how to begin.

”I’ve been hoping for this,” Garrett says with a smile. It’s a cute smile.

”Why?” I ask of him, a bit more standoffish than I intended.

”We haven’t had a chance to properly get acquainted.”

”It’s difficult, ya know? You’re the other object of my boyfriends affection.”

”How do you think I feel?” he asks too politely. Almost as if he’s a little angry at me but trying not to seem so. Though he does pose an interesting question. I’ve been so consumed and disgusted by the thought of actually sharing Thad with him that I never really looked through the glass with his eyes. Until relatively recently, he thought Thaddeus was dead. That was his boyfriend that [i[he[/i] mourned for and grieved over.

And here we are almost a year later, Thaddeus is alive and well and found himself in the arms of another person.

WHAT A FUCKING DICK MOVE, THADDEUS!

”Garrett, honestly honey I never considered that,” I answer him, feeling like a total bitch. ”Why do you still love him? I mean after everything...”

”He was a selfish dickhead, I think we can agree on that,” he interrupts with a smirk. ”You see the side of him now, that I saw then. You’re safe with him. And I don’t mean safe from other people or cruelty or anything like that, I mean… just… you feel free. He’s a free spirit and that rubs off.

“It’s invigorating. It’s liberating. It’s… so many things, Liz. You feel fucking amazing and euphoric just being near him.”
He’s entirely right. You don’t really think about it like that in the moment, but when you step out of the box and look at it from outside, he’s perfectly correct. No matter his faults, and there’s a lot, the good far and away outweighs the bad.

”He was the first person that I ever came out to. He wasn’t even aware he liked guys then and even insisted he didn’t. But what he did for me, helping me through the hardest thing I’d ever gone through, being beside me step for step… Liz, he loved me for just being me and I couldn’t believe that I was lucky enough to have him in my life.”

”Then his plane blew up.”

”And I hate him for that, but you know what? I love him far more than I hate him. But I loved him, with all my heart, I did. I still do. He’s back now and Liz, I’m so sorry but I am not letting him go.”

Cute. Loyal. Also kind of a bitch.

Thad has told me but I don’t think I ever really heard him. He has said it wasn’t about sex, it was love. And hearing things from Garrett? Makes me think that yeah, maybe its not about the sex. Strange though, for a 21 year old guy not particularly caring about the sex. Maybe he’s on some other level that we lesser beings just can’t see over the mountain he stands on? I don’t fucking know.

”How do you go from loving him so truly, to him doing what he did, pretending he was dead and allowing you of all people to believe that, but still love him even after all of that?”

Silence. He takes a sip of whatever variety of coffee he’s drinking and looks down at the table.

”When I thought he died, my entire world ended. He made me the best version of myself. Before I met him, I was a conniving piece of shit and that’s a true story. He showed me the light, Liz. He showed me that being me was a fucking gift to the rest of the world. He showed me that my life was valuable too.”

...sounds like Thaddeus.

“All of that was gone when I saw what was left of his plane burning on the sea. I cried myself to sleep every fucking night. I’d wake up in cold sweats having dreamed of him. I never stopped hurting. Not a bit.

“Then I turned on Warfare for the first time in what seemed like ages and there’s this guy named The Collector, wearing a mask and moving so gracefully in the ring and I’ve only seen one person that moved that gracefully and that was Thaddeus.

“And I cried all over again because I knew he was alive. I was relieved that he was alive and well and crushed that for whatever reason, he couldn’t tell me why.”

You’re still a dick, you know.

Garrett might actually love him more than I do. Don’t misunderstand me for a second though, I’m so deeply in love with that man, but the way Garrett sees him is just on some other plateau that’s not even on the map.

”Do you love him?” he asks me. I’m taken aback a little because it just seems like a really stupid question to ask. Of course I do. He’s been the biggest blessing I’ve ever had in my life, if not infuriating and irritating.

”Of course I do,” I answer him, still entirely confused.

”Enough to share him?”

That’s the question, isn’t it?

”That’s so difficult a question...”

”Is it though?” he asks with a smile as he grabs my hand. Garrett has a soft touch and I can see where that might be satisfying in… certain settings. ”He can’t be contained, hun. If you put him in a box it’ll make him miserable and it’ll eventually destroy the love you share. You know him well enough to know that.”

He might be right. Thaddeus hates boxes and hates being categorized by other peoples expectations of what life or in this case, love ought to be. The thought of him though, laying with Garrett and being satisfied in a way that I can’t provide just makes me feel a type of way I can’t explain. He’s a fucking top too, so like, just fuck me in the ass ya know?

I’m in no way anti-gay or homophobic or anything like that. My late sister was a lesbian and it didn’t bother me. Who people love or what they’re attracted to isn’t a choice.

Dammit there it is.

”I know he loves you, Elizabeth. But I love him too. I love him enough to share him in order for him to be happy and for me to be happy. The real question though it seems to me is, are you willing to do the same?”

Before I can think or respond, he gets up from the table and prepares to leave.

”Not to sound like an ass, Liz, but I can play the long game and watch you try and harness him then watch it destroy you both,” he says as he starts for the door. ”But I don’t want that for any of us.

“We can all make this work. Together. You just have to choose it.”

Without another word, he disappears out the door and down the sidewalk. On my way home, all I did was think about how this could possibly work. How would I reconcile the fact that if he’s not in our bed, I know what bed he is in? And I know that his appetite is being satisfied by someone other than me. How does that not bother a person?

I pull the car into the drive and wave at Karen on my way through the gate. As I make my way up the long driveway to the big house, I’m surprisingly calm and a sort of inner peace washes over me. I don’t know that talking to Garrett really accomplished anything but he was right, I do have to decide whether or not I love Thaddeus enough to give him the green light. If I don’t, he’s also right about it likely destroying us both.

After parking the car in front of the doors, I exit and take a deep breath before entering the house. Of course, as he said he would, Thaddeus is sitting cross legged on the floor, waiting.

”A man wants his nooner,” he says mimicking Jaqen H’Ghar with his stupid grin that I can’t help but love and makes me burst into laughter. ”A man was promised a nooner, and a man must receive what was promised.”

”Have you been sitting there the whole time?” I ask through my laughter.

”No, I pee’d once,” he answers. ”Also I played ‘The Show’ with Frankie. He beat me. The little shit!” He wraps his arms around my legs and pulls me down on top of him before he kisses my forehead.

”No nooners in public,” I joke as I lay my head down on his chest.

”Again!?” says Frankie as he walks through the hall toward the kitchen giving us a chuckle.

”Silence, child!

“He knows too much.”

”Nine year olds are more aware today than when you were...” I stop myself from saying something stupid.

”Joke’s on you! I was never nine and I’m still not!”


After the nooner, we lay in bed together and I have to tell him. I don’t like hiding things from him. It’s not that this is some huge deal or anything, but he ought to know what I’ve been up to.

”I met with Garrett this morning when I went out,” I tell him. He looks over at me with a smile. ”What?”

”I was just laying here wondering when you were gonna tell me.”

”Uggghh. Of course he told you.”

”He just said you talked. We didn’t get into specifics.”

I don’t know. I don’t have an answer to this dilemma. I love him and so does Garrett. Thad loves us both. Differently but equally. I don’t know how, but he does. I have to decide, and soon, if I can live life loving him with someone else, or if I can’t. He has this way about him, that brings out the best in people. Despite how we hooked up and the fact that I’m a married woman, he really does bring out the best in me. I love who I am when I’m with him. If I deny him, that will hurt him and us, because I’ve cut off a good deal of his happiness. If I give him the green light… ugh… I don’t even want to think about it.

Why does he insist on making everything difficult?


I said I would have a match on night three and I do. I said I would go undefeated at Relentless, and I will. My wheel is a bit dinged up, there’s no denying that. Chris Chaos is still an unimaginative bitch, there’s no denying that either.

So, why Chris Chaos?

Haven’t I beat him enough?

Haven’t I castrated him enough?

Haven’t I proven time and time again that he’s just not on my level?

I’ll answer number one in a minute. Yes. Ehhh, debatable. Emphatic yes.

So again, why Chris Chaos? Chris finds himself as the number one contender to the Universal title and to be entirely clear about something, he did NOT beat Theo Pryce Friday night. Theo Pryce beat Theo Pryce. So when I beat Chris Chaos tomorrow night, what’s that make me?

Better than the number one contender.

I mean, a lot of people are, but none of them are me. No, I’m not angling for a Universal title shot. But it would interest me a great deal if the fucking catastrophic impossible happened and Chris Chaos somehow ended up with the Universal Championship. I’d be tempted, I’m not gonna lie, to remind the world who beat him two days after he became the number one contender. I’d be tempted to step to the plate with Chaos as Universal Champion… excuse me… I just threw up in my mouth a little bit… And take that from him to. Just like I’ve taken his pride. Just like I’ve taken his self-respect. Just like I’ve taken his belief in himself that he was ever pretty good at this shit.

You know what Chris Chaos reminds me of? The Space Shuttle Challenger. It’s brand new, it’s sleek, it’s fresh and looks great. People are excited to see it. People clamor to get a look as it sits on the launchpad ready to take off. The countdown begins and they fire the engines. The crowd roars with anticipation and the shuttle ascends into the heavens, shooting for the stars. They clap and they cheer at this beautiful new work of art when… suddenly… everything comes to a screeching fucking standstill because that pretty new rocket just blew itself up in the sky.

That’s you Chris.

To a fucking T, that is you.

All of the hype and all of the fanfare and all of the suits behind you and you just couldn’t cut the mustard. You couldn’t handle the pressure of being the top guy on a roster full of Peter Gilmour’s and Mastermind’s. You couldn’t handle it so you imploded on yourself and now you’re a caricature of the man you thought you were.

I always knew better.

You were a fraud the moment I laid eyes on you and I knew it, Chris. So I made it a goal of mine to expose you for what you are. So anytime you feel like you’re climbing the ranks again, I pop in to remind you just where you belong: the bottom of the fucking barrel.

You can shoot off at the mouth saying you have nothing to prove against me. You can rip off Heath Ledger’s Joker and try to make people think you’re crazy. You can tell anyone who will listen that I’m midcard for life, but when I beat you again, what does that mean for you?

Sure, you’ll still be the number one contender being led like a lamb to Sarah Lachlan’s slaughter house where she’ll laugh hysterically at her easiest title defense since Peter Gilmour all the while cashing the big fat check she gets for beating you. But what does it mean, Chris? What does it mean for you when this midcarder that isn’t good enough to matter, your own words Mr. Jackson, beats you yet again? What does it mean, Chris, when you fail to beat me yet again?

If I’m a midcard talent, if I’m not good enough to matter and you lose to me like you always do, what does that say about you?

Clearly that’s not Universal Championship material. Clearly that’s not the top of the card. Clearly that’s not a main event ready competitor and you think you really stand a chance in defeating Sarah? You think you stand a chance at defeating Charlie?

Once again, like you always do, your mouth writes checks that you can’t cash. Yeah it all sounds good to the untrained ear, but when you hold up your words against the facts, they’re nothing more than unsubstantiated, empty claims to make you feel better for sucking the life out of every room you walk into.

Yes, I’m better than you Chris. I always have been and I always will be so if I’m a midcarder man, you gotta be jerkin’ the curtain.

This is kind of a long winded explanation as to why Chaos when the answer is truly and honestly so simple. I chose to face Chris Chaos because I know the very sight of me makes his skin crawl and his blood boil. I chose to face Chaos because I want him to remember where he belongs in the pecking order. I chose Chaos just to beat him again quite simply…

Because I can.]]>
Starbucks || Downtown Old Saybrook, Connecticut


Collecting my thoughts in Thad’s car, sitting in the parking lot of a Starbucks in downtown Old Saybrook, I begin to wonder if I’m doing the right thing. What I didn’t tell Thaddeus or anyone is that I’m meeting with Garrett Wentworth, the young man that has stolen my comfort and object of my boyfriends desire from me.

In all honesty, part of me is just like ‘go with the flow, see what happens.’ Then another part is like ‘you fucking idiot, run like hell!’ And there’s another part of me that says ‘girl, you’re fucking a 21 year old and he wants to fuck a 19 year old and you’re 30. GROW UP!’ This has a lot of moving parts.

I see Garrett sitting inside. His pink hair tips are hard to miss. I don’t really know what I expect to gain from this meeting. I don’t know Garrett well enough to gauge just how this will pan out. He waves at me with a smile from his table and now I’m locked in. I thought about just backing out and going back home but now he’s seen me and it’s too late. There’s no turning back now. After turning off the car, I head inside and sit across from him, really not knowing where or how to begin.

”I’ve been hoping for this,” Garrett says with a smile. It’s a cute smile.

”Why?” I ask of him, a bit more standoffish than I intended.

”We haven’t had a chance to properly get acquainted.”

”It’s difficult, ya know? You’re the other object of my boyfriends affection.”

”How do you think I feel?” he asks too politely. Almost as if he’s a little angry at me but trying not to seem so. Though he does pose an interesting question. I’ve been so consumed and disgusted by the thought of actually sharing Thad with him that I never really looked through the glass with his eyes. Until relatively recently, he thought Thaddeus was dead. That was his boyfriend that [i[he[/i] mourned for and grieved over.

And here we are almost a year later, Thaddeus is alive and well and found himself in the arms of another person.

WHAT A FUCKING DICK MOVE, THADDEUS!

”Garrett, honestly honey I never considered that,” I answer him, feeling like a total bitch. ”Why do you still love him? I mean after everything...”

”He was a selfish dickhead, I think we can agree on that,” he interrupts with a smirk. ”You see the side of him now, that I saw then. You’re safe with him. And I don’t mean safe from other people or cruelty or anything like that, I mean… just… you feel free. He’s a free spirit and that rubs off.

“It’s invigorating. It’s liberating. It’s… so many things, Liz. You feel fucking amazing and euphoric just being near him.”
He’s entirely right. You don’t really think about it like that in the moment, but when you step out of the box and look at it from outside, he’s perfectly correct. No matter his faults, and there’s a lot, the good far and away outweighs the bad.

”He was the first person that I ever came out to. He wasn’t even aware he liked guys then and even insisted he didn’t. But what he did for me, helping me through the hardest thing I’d ever gone through, being beside me step for step… Liz, he loved me for just being me and I couldn’t believe that I was lucky enough to have him in my life.”

”Then his plane blew up.”

”And I hate him for that, but you know what? I love him far more than I hate him. But I loved him, with all my heart, I did. I still do. He’s back now and Liz, I’m so sorry but I am not letting him go.”

Cute. Loyal. Also kind of a bitch.

Thad has told me but I don’t think I ever really heard him. He has said it wasn’t about sex, it was love. And hearing things from Garrett? Makes me think that yeah, maybe its not about the sex. Strange though, for a 21 year old guy not particularly caring about the sex. Maybe he’s on some other level that we lesser beings just can’t see over the mountain he stands on? I don’t fucking know.

”How do you go from loving him so truly, to him doing what he did, pretending he was dead and allowing you of all people to believe that, but still love him even after all of that?”

Silence. He takes a sip of whatever variety of coffee he’s drinking and looks down at the table.

”When I thought he died, my entire world ended. He made me the best version of myself. Before I met him, I was a conniving piece of shit and that’s a true story. He showed me the light, Liz. He showed me that being me was a fucking gift to the rest of the world. He showed me that my life was valuable too.”

...sounds like Thaddeus.

“All of that was gone when I saw what was left of his plane burning on the sea. I cried myself to sleep every fucking night. I’d wake up in cold sweats having dreamed of him. I never stopped hurting. Not a bit.

“Then I turned on Warfare for the first time in what seemed like ages and there’s this guy named The Collector, wearing a mask and moving so gracefully in the ring and I’ve only seen one person that moved that gracefully and that was Thaddeus.

“And I cried all over again because I knew he was alive. I was relieved that he was alive and well and crushed that for whatever reason, he couldn’t tell me why.”

You’re still a dick, you know.

Garrett might actually love him more than I do. Don’t misunderstand me for a second though, I’m so deeply in love with that man, but the way Garrett sees him is just on some other plateau that’s not even on the map.

”Do you love him?” he asks me. I’m taken aback a little because it just seems like a really stupid question to ask. Of course I do. He’s been the biggest blessing I’ve ever had in my life, if not infuriating and irritating.

”Of course I do,” I answer him, still entirely confused.

”Enough to share him?”

That’s the question, isn’t it?

”That’s so difficult a question...”

”Is it though?” he asks with a smile as he grabs my hand. Garrett has a soft touch and I can see where that might be satisfying in… certain settings. ”He can’t be contained, hun. If you put him in a box it’ll make him miserable and it’ll eventually destroy the love you share. You know him well enough to know that.”

He might be right. Thaddeus hates boxes and hates being categorized by other peoples expectations of what life or in this case, love ought to be. The thought of him though, laying with Garrett and being satisfied in a way that I can’t provide just makes me feel a type of way I can’t explain. He’s a fucking top too, so like, just fuck me in the ass ya know?

I’m in no way anti-gay or homophobic or anything like that. My late sister was a lesbian and it didn’t bother me. Who people love or what they’re attracted to isn’t a choice.

Dammit there it is.

”I know he loves you, Elizabeth. But I love him too. I love him enough to share him in order for him to be happy and for me to be happy. The real question though it seems to me is, are you willing to do the same?”

Before I can think or respond, he gets up from the table and prepares to leave.

”Not to sound like an ass, Liz, but I can play the long game and watch you try and harness him then watch it destroy you both,” he says as he starts for the door. ”But I don’t want that for any of us.

“We can all make this work. Together. You just have to choose it.”

Without another word, he disappears out the door and down the sidewalk. On my way home, all I did was think about how this could possibly work. How would I reconcile the fact that if he’s not in our bed, I know what bed he is in? And I know that his appetite is being satisfied by someone other than me. How does that not bother a person?

I pull the car into the drive and wave at Karen on my way through the gate. As I make my way up the long driveway to the big house, I’m surprisingly calm and a sort of inner peace washes over me. I don’t know that talking to Garrett really accomplished anything but he was right, I do have to decide whether or not I love Thaddeus enough to give him the green light. If I don’t, he’s also right about it likely destroying us both.

After parking the car in front of the doors, I exit and take a deep breath before entering the house. Of course, as he said he would, Thaddeus is sitting cross legged on the floor, waiting.

”A man wants his nooner,” he says mimicking Jaqen H’Ghar with his stupid grin that I can’t help but love and makes me burst into laughter. ”A man was promised a nooner, and a man must receive what was promised.”

”Have you been sitting there the whole time?” I ask through my laughter.

”No, I pee’d once,” he answers. ”Also I played ‘The Show’ with Frankie. He beat me. The little shit!” He wraps his arms around my legs and pulls me down on top of him before he kisses my forehead.

”No nooners in public,” I joke as I lay my head down on his chest.

”Again!?” says Frankie as he walks through the hall toward the kitchen giving us a chuckle.

”Silence, child!

“He knows too much.”

”Nine year olds are more aware today than when you were...” I stop myself from saying something stupid.

”Joke’s on you! I was never nine and I’m still not!”


After the nooner, we lay in bed together and I have to tell him. I don’t like hiding things from him. It’s not that this is some huge deal or anything, but he ought to know what I’ve been up to.

”I met with Garrett this morning when I went out,” I tell him. He looks over at me with a smile. ”What?”

”I was just laying here wondering when you were gonna tell me.”

”Uggghh. Of course he told you.”

”He just said you talked. We didn’t get into specifics.”

I don’t know. I don’t have an answer to this dilemma. I love him and so does Garrett. Thad loves us both. Differently but equally. I don’t know how, but he does. I have to decide, and soon, if I can live life loving him with someone else, or if I can’t. He has this way about him, that brings out the best in people. Despite how we hooked up and the fact that I’m a married woman, he really does bring out the best in me. I love who I am when I’m with him. If I deny him, that will hurt him and us, because I’ve cut off a good deal of his happiness. If I give him the green light… ugh… I don’t even want to think about it.

Why does he insist on making everything difficult?


I said I would have a match on night three and I do. I said I would go undefeated at Relentless, and I will. My wheel is a bit dinged up, there’s no denying that. Chris Chaos is still an unimaginative bitch, there’s no denying that either.

So, why Chris Chaos?

Haven’t I beat him enough?

Haven’t I castrated him enough?

Haven’t I proven time and time again that he’s just not on my level?

I’ll answer number one in a minute. Yes. Ehhh, debatable. Emphatic yes.

So again, why Chris Chaos? Chris finds himself as the number one contender to the Universal title and to be entirely clear about something, he did NOT beat Theo Pryce Friday night. Theo Pryce beat Theo Pryce. So when I beat Chris Chaos tomorrow night, what’s that make me?

Better than the number one contender.

I mean, a lot of people are, but none of them are me. No, I’m not angling for a Universal title shot. But it would interest me a great deal if the fucking catastrophic impossible happened and Chris Chaos somehow ended up with the Universal Championship. I’d be tempted, I’m not gonna lie, to remind the world who beat him two days after he became the number one contender. I’d be tempted to step to the plate with Chaos as Universal Champion… excuse me… I just threw up in my mouth a little bit… And take that from him to. Just like I’ve taken his pride. Just like I’ve taken his self-respect. Just like I’ve taken his belief in himself that he was ever pretty good at this shit.

You know what Chris Chaos reminds me of? The Space Shuttle Challenger. It’s brand new, it’s sleek, it’s fresh and looks great. People are excited to see it. People clamor to get a look as it sits on the launchpad ready to take off. The countdown begins and they fire the engines. The crowd roars with anticipation and the shuttle ascends into the heavens, shooting for the stars. They clap and they cheer at this beautiful new work of art when… suddenly… everything comes to a screeching fucking standstill because that pretty new rocket just blew itself up in the sky.

That’s you Chris.

To a fucking T, that is you.

All of the hype and all of the fanfare and all of the suits behind you and you just couldn’t cut the mustard. You couldn’t handle the pressure of being the top guy on a roster full of Peter Gilmour’s and Mastermind’s. You couldn’t handle it so you imploded on yourself and now you’re a caricature of the man you thought you were.

I always knew better.

You were a fraud the moment I laid eyes on you and I knew it, Chris. So I made it a goal of mine to expose you for what you are. So anytime you feel like you’re climbing the ranks again, I pop in to remind you just where you belong: the bottom of the fucking barrel.

You can shoot off at the mouth saying you have nothing to prove against me. You can rip off Heath Ledger’s Joker and try to make people think you’re crazy. You can tell anyone who will listen that I’m midcard for life, but when I beat you again, what does that mean for you?

Sure, you’ll still be the number one contender being led like a lamb to Sarah Lachlan’s slaughter house where she’ll laugh hysterically at her easiest title defense since Peter Gilmour all the while cashing the big fat check she gets for beating you. But what does it mean, Chris? What does it mean for you when this midcarder that isn’t good enough to matter, your own words Mr. Jackson, beats you yet again? What does it mean, Chris, when you fail to beat me yet again?

If I’m a midcard talent, if I’m not good enough to matter and you lose to me like you always do, what does that say about you?

Clearly that’s not Universal Championship material. Clearly that’s not the top of the card. Clearly that’s not a main event ready competitor and you think you really stand a chance in defeating Sarah? You think you stand a chance at defeating Charlie?

Once again, like you always do, your mouth writes checks that you can’t cash. Yeah it all sounds good to the untrained ear, but when you hold up your words against the facts, they’re nothing more than unsubstantiated, empty claims to make you feel better for sucking the life out of every room you walk into.

Yes, I’m better than you Chris. I always have been and I always will be so if I’m a midcarder man, you gotta be jerkin’ the curtain.

This is kind of a long winded explanation as to why Chaos when the answer is truly and honestly so simple. I chose to face Chris Chaos because I know the very sight of me makes his skin crawl and his blood boil. I chose to face Chaos because I want him to remember where he belongs in the pecking order. I chose Chaos just to beat him again quite simply…

Because I can.]]> <![CDATA[To New Beginnings]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38341 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 22:16:01 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38341




                                                                                                                              





































































[Image: XyTjvsM.png]




“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”


John Ray



You know it takes a lot to really hunker down, gather your balls, and face a true monster. I mean, what is more terrifying than facing one of your, if not greatest, fears? What is it that makes these fears so great? So, significant? Is it the pain they bring with them? Is it the sickness in our stomachs, those wretched butterflies? Is it the helpless feeling that we've lost all control of our lives? The fact that someone else is currently holding the reigns in what could be your fate? Or is it the look in my eyes when I'm about to squeeze the life out of yours?

Tonight I have something a little different to share with you. A story I would like to share to maybe bring to perspective the mood that I'm trying to bring to the table here. Its about a young girl searching for something. She's searching for something, but has no idea what it is she's actually looking for. Willing to go through whatever it takes, she will have to figure out a lot more than just what it is on the other side of this quest, but how she's going to get there when the roads get a little rocky....


part one
To New Beginnings

because the past no longer wants you




The edge of the world was burning. As the sun said its final good byes on its final stages of life for this day, it sent an orange gleam across the horizon. The fluffy clouds looked like plumes of smoke as the night sky began settling in directly above. A few stars would shine, but would soon be taken over by an oncoming storm that loomed just behind the reeling sky. None of that took away from the landscape that it all hovered over. The single road split a mix of bright yellow brush and trees in a flat, endless landscape. The incoming fall colors and shades painted a picture that would sell to the highest bidder at the most glorious, highest end auction imaginable. To needlessly further put it, it was beautiful.

Traveling at about fifty miles per hour, or around eighty kilometers per hour if you’re an asshole, the little car soars straight down the narrow roadway. It’s been a couple of hours since she’s pulled off the busy interstate onto this, what she’s convinced, abandoned road to nowhere. She didn’t have an address to go by, just the name of a town and its “where-abouts”. Meaning: “About where?”

The already worthless GPS fizzles out a few times and the satellite radio crackles a bit. She throws a couple worthless taps at the screen before switching to another station. A low rumble of thunder crawls across the flat landscape and that weird, warm static feeling can be felt in the air. Questioning what the weatherman told her earlier, she peers out her window and up at the sky to see this already established, most beautiful horizon. The music crackles out a bit, but still plays on as she murmurs along to the familiar tune.

[Image: 80gYiRk.jpg]


Soooyyy…. Un prededor…. I’m a loser bay-beeeee… Soooo why don’t----

The song is then cut off by not the annoying snaps and crackles but by an incoming phone call that’s not displayed across the screen from “Michael”.

Ahoy!

Nancy, where the hell are you?

Driving.

Yeah, I figured. We stopped as soon as we got off from the Exit….

Yeah, I figured.

We’re not going to get anything done tonight. Come back, we’re staying at the Days Inn off 76. We’ll get a fresh start tomorrow.

We ARE going to a town, Michael… Surely, they have a place to crash in. You’re early start still involves us driving thirty miles to this place.

You don’t know that and you don’t know how far out a place to stay actually is. Be realistic here and what’s your damn hurry? It’s not like this shit is going anywhere.

You guys can hang back if you want. I’ve got to be closer there than I am to you by now.

This is why I---- You---- Never----

After a short conversation the call fails and the satellite radio returns, but barely. With mostly static and skipping around, she rolls her eyes, kills the volume, and sits back in silence. She looks around and starts to notice the scenery around her change as it all goes from happy ending beautiful to grotesque beautiful. The once lively, yet dying, burning surroundings turned to baron, nothingness as the trees stand naked in salute to their most random passer-by.

Nancy looks down to her side where one of her bags sit open. A bump causes one of the folders to slip out and release a photo containing a certain old man she’s investigating. She meets the gaze through the photo and allows the vehicle to slip off the road enough to catch the tire and pull it the rest of the way. The car swerves causing her to snap back to reality and counter-steer directly into a giant rock that completely destroys her front right tire. The car 619’s and lifts the back of it into the air to land the opposite way on the side of the road. Nancy sits like a deer in headlights until she lets gravity slam her forehead into the steering wheel.

Grrrreat…

She looks up and starts tapping away at the screen in her car once more and dials back Michael. It doesn’t even try and responds with the dreadful red-x that signifies the call has failed. She immediately starts digging through her bag and digs out a loose cigarette and puckers it between her lips as she shoves herself back in the seat.

Quitting has never been harder in the last couple of weeks since the start of her new and first real project. She reaches over and pulls a folder out from her bag and sets it on her lap. Opening it reveals a stack of newspaper clippings and police reports regarding disappearances, mishaps, and straight up weird-ass happenings in small towns. With one in particular, she shuffles through the stack that she’s collected since the start of her research.

One article reads, “Town Left Abandoned After Mass Church Suicide”. Another speaks of the church being burned while the entire townsfolk were locked inside. Another of a terrible curse that simply decayed the town and those who chose to stay and even following those who fled there all the way to a short demise. Nancy takes a puff from her cigarette as she shuffles through the paperwork before noticing a pair of headlights peaking above the horizon. It’s nearly dark now and a sign of life after hours of nothing was closer to frightening than comforting.

She quickly pressed the button for her hazard lights and stumbled out of the car to wait for them. The headlights which seemed to once be coming at a decent pace slowed down to a crawl once it seen the lights from Nancy’s vehicle. She stood out in the middle of the roadway and waved her arms, pointlessly yelling at them from this distance.

Heeeeey! I need heeeeelp!

The, what is now visible, truck comes now even slower as it makes her feel less and less safe with every “ka-chuk-ka-chuck-ka-chuck”. She seen enough horror flicks and has investigated a lot worse to know to carry a knife. She pats it down a couple of times to reassure it’s still there and waists for the unexpected traffic. The truck finally makes it to her and stops by her side. She approaches the driver’s side window and through it sees an older fellow, that in no-way can see over the steering wheel, smoking a cigar and another gentleman sitting beside him. The window goes down and a cloud of smoke escapes out of the vehicle and into her face. Coughing and backing away, she holds up a finger before catching her breath.

Please, I need help.

The person in the passenger seat, appearing much younger than his very short driver buddy, leans forward. Meanwhile, the little guy teeths a cigar and glares at poor Nancy.

What’s up? I’m Tommy! That your car?

Uh, yeah.

I could probably look at it for ya. Not for free. But my buddies dad used to work on ‘em.

There’s really nothing to look at, thanks. Thank-you, for sure. I mean, the front’s fucked.

She points and tries not to keep making eye contact with the short one.

And why would you look at it if---

The short man picks himself up to his feet, stands on the driver’s seat, and yells out the window:

Do you want help or not, cunt? You look like a boy.

Jarvis, would you chill!

A stubby middle finger goes up in both directions and his little ass lands flat back on the driver’s seat. Not long goes by before a police car pulls up beside the both of them.

Oh, ho! You’re in trouble now, whore.

With a look of pure bewilderment, Nancy slowly walks away from the truck then quickly towards the police car that just parked beside her wreckage. A single police officer steps out.

He’s strong looking, younger like the one in the passenger seat, but more confident. He looks over the Nancy’s car with a flashlight for just a moment before moving his attention to her.

Hello! Hi! I’m Nan—

I’ll take it from here, boys!

The officer waves off the two weirdos in the truck. It stalls as it goes to move and clicks and clanks to start back up again before it finally makes its way away from them. Nancy watches them go and finally has a slight warmth of comfort as she turns to the officer.

I’m Nancy. That’s my car. I need help.

How bad is it?

Pretty bad, I think. I’m gonna probably need it towed. Is there any garages in the town up ahead?

There’s no town up ahead.

There’s not? I mean, I know there’s not, but isn’t there something?

Oh, there’s something alright, but nothing you want to go see.

See, that’s actually exactly why I want to go see.

Look, it’s getting late and unless you want to wait another couple of hours here for a tow truck, I suggest you come with me back to the station. In fact, unless you want some more company like you had earlier, I strongly suggest it.

Nancy looks around, thinks really hard, but can’t think of anything better so she agrees to go with the officer. She takes the few important bags from her car and hops into the squad car with the officer. They drive for a few miles down the road before there’s a left, which he takes.

It’s good to know that civilization was so close. It seemed like I drove for miles without seeing anything. Including a car or a house….

Yeah, we’re out here pretty far.

So, I’m Nancy.

You told me.

Sorry, what’s your… Officer….?

Andy.

[red]Andy? Shouldn’t it be Officer Something?

You can call me Officer Something if you want to.

I mean, you ARE a cop, right?

As much a cop as you are not in some serious shit right now.

Huh? What?

The road takes another turn and the truck seen earlier sits ahead parked beside a trailer.

Okay, what’s that? That doesn’t look like ‘the station’.

Well, it should because that’s what it is.

Ya know, I’m starting to get some vibes here that maybe you’re not a cop and you and your buddies are going to try and, ya know…

The officer chuckles a bit under his breath.

There’s about a thousand possibilities to what you just said, but if sacrifice you to the devil was the ‘ya know’, then you just won a million dollars.


So, what do you think is going to happen? Do you think Nancy’s not even going to make it to her first big site to explore the unknown? That officer there really seems to be turning into a shady fellow, but we’ll just have to wait and see. More importantly, do you think I’m walking into Relentless six years after you and I first buried our claws deep into the foundations of this place, five years after Loverboy brought life back and mended all of the hearts and hopes of ALL the little XWF children, and one year after Lux became a legend to not be completely ready to shred something to pieces. I was honestly looking for something meaningless to just kind of introduce myself to all the wonderful new patients I have now, but having someone so regular like yourself makes it SO much better. It was completely unexpected, too. Who would have thought that same temper that got you squashed so many times before is going to be another reason for another downfall. More bruises, too. But you don’t mind those as much, do you?

[Image: dL2nH3F.jpg]


From a place so long ago and in some of the deepest, dankest, darkest memories that you have to drown with a mug of warm cocoa each night before bed, begins our most glorious journey. From a place that has created such an overwhelming feeling of hatred that you can’t help but love and respect it all.



So, this is what we’re doing? We’re sitting in the void again, are we? Sitting alone, talking to ourselves, smoking cigarettes. Thinking with your stupid thoughts. Sinking into that sick, so sick, mind of yours. You should know you shouldn’t spend TOO much time there, right? It’s been known to drive a few folks crazy, ya know. It is good to see that you’ve had a bit of alone time to reminisce on the past, just like I have. Do you remember the good old days, Jacob?! Do you remember how wonderful it was?! Back then even you had things to brag about, am I right? You were one of the longest reigning World Heavyweight Television Champions of the World of all time! That’s one incredible accomplishment.

[Image: bluGfDM.jpg?1]


And you know, if it wasn’t for you, sir, I could have perhaps NEVER become the XWF Legend that I am today. Turn the tables for a moment and just imagine if, on that fateful evening, I became the TV Champion. I defeated the champion, Gator, and walked away as a champion. Sir, I will MOST DEFEINITELY thank-you and credit you for at least some of my success in becoming one of the longest reigning XWF Universal Champions of all time. That would have never happened had I been stuck defending that Television Championship, week-in, week-out against the same mediocre talent over and over again. That’s what kept you so mediocre, goof-ball, and it could have easily done the same thing to me. Maybe. I doubt it. I can’t help but evolve. I can’t help but scrap and crawl to the very top. I can’t help but just takes heads and roll ‘em. You, Jacob, can blame yourself for not keeping up with the rest of us. You can blame yourself for not already having your name printed next to mine in this fine federation’s Hall of Legends. I HAVE been saving you a seat there and have thrown in TONS of nominations, but sadly it appears I could be the only one pulling for you, sir.

Make no mistake though, me crippling you at Relentless will set up a perfect return for you to be a better success down the road like it did me back then. The projection of your ‘decimation’ lead to you forfeiting your match against me at King of the Ring, which I later was crowned. Which then lead to the Xtreme Title, briefcase, blah, blah, blah…. you were there. So, right, we both shared a couple bad days together, am I right? Things are different than they were before though, friend. They’re different from the first time just like the second time was. Different from the third time, too. It’s a running joke that the good ol’ Doc seems to be running out of juice and that he just comes back to lose to someone. Joke, indeed. You know better than to listen to anyone but your instincts to start, but you’re damn smart enough to not just assume I’ve lost ANY steam in the last few years. We may stumble, sir, but we will get back up. We may fall, but we will rise again. Maybe I’ll run out of gas someday. Maybe I’ll fade away. Maybe I’ll fall flat on my face. Or… or maybe I’ll rip and tear my way through this place like never before.

[Image: mZGGjsI.jpg?1]
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[Image: XyTjvsM.png]




“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”


John Ray



You know it takes a lot to really hunker down, gather your balls, and face a true monster. I mean, what is more terrifying than facing one of your, if not greatest, fears? What is it that makes these fears so great? So, significant? Is it the pain they bring with them? Is it the sickness in our stomachs, those wretched butterflies? Is it the helpless feeling that we've lost all control of our lives? The fact that someone else is currently holding the reigns in what could be your fate? Or is it the look in my eyes when I'm about to squeeze the life out of yours?

Tonight I have something a little different to share with you. A story I would like to share to maybe bring to perspective the mood that I'm trying to bring to the table here. Its about a young girl searching for something. She's searching for something, but has no idea what it is she's actually looking for. Willing to go through whatever it takes, she will have to figure out a lot more than just what it is on the other side of this quest, but how she's going to get there when the roads get a little rocky....


part one
To New Beginnings

because the past no longer wants you




The edge of the world was burning. As the sun said its final good byes on its final stages of life for this day, it sent an orange gleam across the horizon. The fluffy clouds looked like plumes of smoke as the night sky began settling in directly above. A few stars would shine, but would soon be taken over by an oncoming storm that loomed just behind the reeling sky. None of that took away from the landscape that it all hovered over. The single road split a mix of bright yellow brush and trees in a flat, endless landscape. The incoming fall colors and shades painted a picture that would sell to the highest bidder at the most glorious, highest end auction imaginable. To needlessly further put it, it was beautiful.

Traveling at about fifty miles per hour, or around eighty kilometers per hour if you’re an asshole, the little car soars straight down the narrow roadway. It’s been a couple of hours since she’s pulled off the busy interstate onto this, what she’s convinced, abandoned road to nowhere. She didn’t have an address to go by, just the name of a town and its “where-abouts”. Meaning: “About where?”

The already worthless GPS fizzles out a few times and the satellite radio crackles a bit. She throws a couple worthless taps at the screen before switching to another station. A low rumble of thunder crawls across the flat landscape and that weird, warm static feeling can be felt in the air. Questioning what the weatherman told her earlier, she peers out her window and up at the sky to see this already established, most beautiful horizon. The music crackles out a bit, but still plays on as she murmurs along to the familiar tune.

[Image: 80gYiRk.jpg]


Soooyyy…. Un prededor…. I’m a loser bay-beeeee… Soooo why don’t----

The song is then cut off by not the annoying snaps and crackles but by an incoming phone call that’s not displayed across the screen from “Michael”.

Ahoy!

Nancy, where the hell are you?

Driving.

Yeah, I figured. We stopped as soon as we got off from the Exit….

Yeah, I figured.

We’re not going to get anything done tonight. Come back, we’re staying at the Days Inn off 76. We’ll get a fresh start tomorrow.

We ARE going to a town, Michael… Surely, they have a place to crash in. You’re early start still involves us driving thirty miles to this place.

You don’t know that and you don’t know how far out a place to stay actually is. Be realistic here and what’s your damn hurry? It’s not like this shit is going anywhere.

You guys can hang back if you want. I’ve got to be closer there than I am to you by now.

This is why I---- You---- Never----

After a short conversation the call fails and the satellite radio returns, but barely. With mostly static and skipping around, she rolls her eyes, kills the volume, and sits back in silence. She looks around and starts to notice the scenery around her change as it all goes from happy ending beautiful to grotesque beautiful. The once lively, yet dying, burning surroundings turned to baron, nothingness as the trees stand naked in salute to their most random passer-by.

Nancy looks down to her side where one of her bags sit open. A bump causes one of the folders to slip out and release a photo containing a certain old man she’s investigating. She meets the gaze through the photo and allows the vehicle to slip off the road enough to catch the tire and pull it the rest of the way. The car swerves causing her to snap back to reality and counter-steer directly into a giant rock that completely destroys her front right tire. The car 619’s and lifts the back of it into the air to land the opposite way on the side of the road. Nancy sits like a deer in headlights until she lets gravity slam her forehead into the steering wheel.

Grrrreat…

She looks up and starts tapping away at the screen in her car once more and dials back Michael. It doesn’t even try and responds with the dreadful red-x that signifies the call has failed. She immediately starts digging through her bag and digs out a loose cigarette and puckers it between her lips as she shoves herself back in the seat.

Quitting has never been harder in the last couple of weeks since the start of her new and first real project. She reaches over and pulls a folder out from her bag and sets it on her lap. Opening it reveals a stack of newspaper clippings and police reports regarding disappearances, mishaps, and straight up weird-ass happenings in small towns. With one in particular, she shuffles through the stack that she’s collected since the start of her research.

One article reads, “Town Left Abandoned After Mass Church Suicide”. Another speaks of the church being burned while the entire townsfolk were locked inside. Another of a terrible curse that simply decayed the town and those who chose to stay and even following those who fled there all the way to a short demise. Nancy takes a puff from her cigarette as she shuffles through the paperwork before noticing a pair of headlights peaking above the horizon. It’s nearly dark now and a sign of life after hours of nothing was closer to frightening than comforting.

She quickly pressed the button for her hazard lights and stumbled out of the car to wait for them. The headlights which seemed to once be coming at a decent pace slowed down to a crawl once it seen the lights from Nancy’s vehicle. She stood out in the middle of the roadway and waved her arms, pointlessly yelling at them from this distance.

Heeeeey! I need heeeeelp!

The, what is now visible, truck comes now even slower as it makes her feel less and less safe with every “ka-chuk-ka-chuck-ka-chuck”. She seen enough horror flicks and has investigated a lot worse to know to carry a knife. She pats it down a couple of times to reassure it’s still there and waists for the unexpected traffic. The truck finally makes it to her and stops by her side. She approaches the driver’s side window and through it sees an older fellow, that in no-way can see over the steering wheel, smoking a cigar and another gentleman sitting beside him. The window goes down and a cloud of smoke escapes out of the vehicle and into her face. Coughing and backing away, she holds up a finger before catching her breath.

Please, I need help.

The person in the passenger seat, appearing much younger than his very short driver buddy, leans forward. Meanwhile, the little guy teeths a cigar and glares at poor Nancy.

What’s up? I’m Tommy! That your car?

Uh, yeah.

I could probably look at it for ya. Not for free. But my buddies dad used to work on ‘em.

There’s really nothing to look at, thanks. Thank-you, for sure. I mean, the front’s fucked.

She points and tries not to keep making eye contact with the short one.

And why would you look at it if---

The short man picks himself up to his feet, stands on the driver’s seat, and yells out the window:

Do you want help or not, cunt? You look like a boy.

Jarvis, would you chill!

A stubby middle finger goes up in both directions and his little ass lands flat back on the driver’s seat. Not long goes by before a police car pulls up beside the both of them.

Oh, ho! You’re in trouble now, whore.

With a look of pure bewilderment, Nancy slowly walks away from the truck then quickly towards the police car that just parked beside her wreckage. A single police officer steps out.

He’s strong looking, younger like the one in the passenger seat, but more confident. He looks over the Nancy’s car with a flashlight for just a moment before moving his attention to her.

Hello! Hi! I’m Nan—

I’ll take it from here, boys!

The officer waves off the two weirdos in the truck. It stalls as it goes to move and clicks and clanks to start back up again before it finally makes its way away from them. Nancy watches them go and finally has a slight warmth of comfort as she turns to the officer.

I’m Nancy. That’s my car. I need help.

How bad is it?

Pretty bad, I think. I’m gonna probably need it towed. Is there any garages in the town up ahead?

There’s no town up ahead.

There’s not? I mean, I know there’s not, but isn’t there something?

Oh, there’s something alright, but nothing you want to go see.

See, that’s actually exactly why I want to go see.

Look, it’s getting late and unless you want to wait another couple of hours here for a tow truck, I suggest you come with me back to the station. In fact, unless you want some more company like you had earlier, I strongly suggest it.

Nancy looks around, thinks really hard, but can’t think of anything better so she agrees to go with the officer. She takes the few important bags from her car and hops into the squad car with the officer. They drive for a few miles down the road before there’s a left, which he takes.

It’s good to know that civilization was so close. It seemed like I drove for miles without seeing anything. Including a car or a house….

Yeah, we’re out here pretty far.

So, I’m Nancy.

You told me.

Sorry, what’s your… Officer….?

Andy.

[red]Andy? Shouldn’t it be Officer Something?

You can call me Officer Something if you want to.

I mean, you ARE a cop, right?

As much a cop as you are not in some serious shit right now.

Huh? What?

The road takes another turn and the truck seen earlier sits ahead parked beside a trailer.

Okay, what’s that? That doesn’t look like ‘the station’.

Well, it should because that’s what it is.

Ya know, I’m starting to get some vibes here that maybe you’re not a cop and you and your buddies are going to try and, ya know…

The officer chuckles a bit under his breath.

There’s about a thousand possibilities to what you just said, but if sacrifice you to the devil was the ‘ya know’, then you just won a million dollars.


So, what do you think is going to happen? Do you think Nancy’s not even going to make it to her first big site to explore the unknown? That officer there really seems to be turning into a shady fellow, but we’ll just have to wait and see. More importantly, do you think I’m walking into Relentless six years after you and I first buried our claws deep into the foundations of this place, five years after Loverboy brought life back and mended all of the hearts and hopes of ALL the little XWF children, and one year after Lux became a legend to not be completely ready to shred something to pieces. I was honestly looking for something meaningless to just kind of introduce myself to all the wonderful new patients I have now, but having someone so regular like yourself makes it SO much better. It was completely unexpected, too. Who would have thought that same temper that got you squashed so many times before is going to be another reason for another downfall. More bruises, too. But you don’t mind those as much, do you?

[Image: dL2nH3F.jpg]


From a place so long ago and in some of the deepest, dankest, darkest memories that you have to drown with a mug of warm cocoa each night before bed, begins our most glorious journey. From a place that has created such an overwhelming feeling of hatred that you can’t help but love and respect it all.



So, this is what we’re doing? We’re sitting in the void again, are we? Sitting alone, talking to ourselves, smoking cigarettes. Thinking with your stupid thoughts. Sinking into that sick, so sick, mind of yours. You should know you shouldn’t spend TOO much time there, right? It’s been known to drive a few folks crazy, ya know. It is good to see that you’ve had a bit of alone time to reminisce on the past, just like I have. Do you remember the good old days, Jacob?! Do you remember how wonderful it was?! Back then even you had things to brag about, am I right? You were one of the longest reigning World Heavyweight Television Champions of the World of all time! That’s one incredible accomplishment.

[Image: bluGfDM.jpg?1]


And you know, if it wasn’t for you, sir, I could have perhaps NEVER become the XWF Legend that I am today. Turn the tables for a moment and just imagine if, on that fateful evening, I became the TV Champion. I defeated the champion, Gator, and walked away as a champion. Sir, I will MOST DEFEINITELY thank-you and credit you for at least some of my success in becoming one of the longest reigning XWF Universal Champions of all time. That would have never happened had I been stuck defending that Television Championship, week-in, week-out against the same mediocre talent over and over again. That’s what kept you so mediocre, goof-ball, and it could have easily done the same thing to me. Maybe. I doubt it. I can’t help but evolve. I can’t help but scrap and crawl to the very top. I can’t help but just takes heads and roll ‘em. You, Jacob, can blame yourself for not keeping up with the rest of us. You can blame yourself for not already having your name printed next to mine in this fine federation’s Hall of Legends. I HAVE been saving you a seat there and have thrown in TONS of nominations, but sadly it appears I could be the only one pulling for you, sir.

Make no mistake though, me crippling you at Relentless will set up a perfect return for you to be a better success down the road like it did me back then. The projection of your ‘decimation’ lead to you forfeiting your match against me at King of the Ring, which I later was crowned. Which then lead to the Xtreme Title, briefcase, blah, blah, blah…. you were there. So, right, we both shared a couple bad days together, am I right? Things are different than they were before though, friend. They’re different from the first time just like the second time was. Different from the third time, too. It’s a running joke that the good ol’ Doc seems to be running out of juice and that he just comes back to lose to someone. Joke, indeed. You know better than to listen to anyone but your instincts to start, but you’re damn smart enough to not just assume I’ve lost ANY steam in the last few years. We may stumble, sir, but we will get back up. We may fall, but we will rise again. Maybe I’ll run out of gas someday. Maybe I’ll fade away. Maybe I’ll fall flat on my face. Or… or maybe I’ll rip and tear my way through this place like never before.

[Image: mZGGjsI.jpg?1]
]]> <![CDATA[My Mind's Tellin' Me No]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38339 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 21:17:46 -0700 Richard Powers]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38339
My Mind's Tellin' Me No

Hola, mi nombre es Dick pero puedes llamarme papi.
(Hello, my name is Dick but you can call me daddy.)

Man, that felt weird to think. Can you imagine if some moron did an entire promo like that? That would be pretty fucking annoying. I take a sip from my Mojito as I recline on a sunbed in the sweltering heat. A droplet of water falls from the glass and lands on my ripped chest and flows down hitting my nipple and erecting it before disappearing down my silk kimono. You watch this and melt like butter, a quivering surges in your nether regions one that you haven't felt since you were 14 years old when the busty Ms Hancock bent over to help you with a maths question, exposing her plump breasts mere inches from your face. Sure, she was 60 and had varicose veins but this was your first sexual experience as a youngling and it was mind-blowing. Taking your trapper keeper and placing it over the crotch of your JNCOs to hide the first public erection of many, savouring this moment and your thoughts only to be exploded when you got home, staining the bedsheets and scaring your Tamagotchi's short life.

This was the moment you became a man. The earth-shattering, world-changing event! This moment here is something that collapses your world view and brings you forward into total ecstasy. The warmth from your groin while your spine tingles. The dryness in your mouth conflicting with the moisture in your pants. YES! Let it flow my dudes and dudettes. For this is the greatest moment of your life, something of which you never thought you could see in your lifetime.

This.

Is a second Dick Powers promo.

I'll allow you to recover. Now take this towel and clean yourself up you dirty whore.

I sit up criss-cross applesauce and remove my sunglasses looking at you! The sexy in a weird way and unwashed viewer. Taking a final sip and twitching as that icy cold water drop hits my bull-sized balls. With a gentle smile, I pose you a question I know everyone will say no to.

"Did anyone watch Hanari's bullshit!?"

"What in the ever-loving fuck happened there!? It's like I was watching a movie with subtitles and dubbed over voices; like nothing matched and it just became the longest disorganized mess of shit I've ever seen. Dude, hire a new editor or something because that was so uncool! Was that on purpose or was that girl you fucked your director and you did so bad of a job of handing over the dick she screwed you over in return?"

"Speaking of smashing, did you have sex just for me? Because I'm the King of Clits? The Slambassador with emphasis on the ASS? Big Dick with the Biggus Dickus? You shouldn't have! Is this what you do? You clearly lack any form of identity so you just latch onto whatever your opponent is and copy them in some vein attempt to drain charisma from them? Like some kind of tanned vampire. You're like a cuckoo bird, dude. Laying your eggs in a rival's nest. It's pretty fucking desperate not gonna lie. If you're gonna have sex in a promo at least make it seem fun!"

"You delivered the under the ball shot in porn with this failure of a promo. You bang this chick who very clearly fakes an orgasm and then you fucking cuss her out!?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you man!?"

"You bang this girl you JUST met and then proceed to degrade her? The fuck!? Have you had sex before? Have you ever talked to a woman? Be rough yeah, spank her ass, spit in her mouth and call her names when you're rearranging her guts but just to switch to being a complete asshole afterward is the boldest fucking neg I have ever seen. You clearly know women well, man by talking about yourself and your furniture. Shit dude, you must be swimming in puss in between murdering people because they have a better business card than you."

"You, haha! You don't let her answer when you start harassing her like a cop with penis envy and intimacy issues and you accuse her, I quote, for only sleeping in with you because she knew how famous you are."

I stammer, throwing out my large, moisturized palms with a chuckle.

"You? You have the audacity to claim to be so famous that chicks want your bean burrito? And then you complain about that!? Dude, I promise, you are forgotten about on a weekly basis. I show up every other pay-per-view and people always remember me and still love me, baby, I get way more attention that you could dream of and you honestly believe that chicks want you because you're a low-tier side character on a wrestling show!? Fucking what!?"

"So, you berate this girl, get mad like an incel and kick her out? That is the most brutal post-nut clarity I have ever fucking seen, dude. All the way, the dialogue switches between Spanish and English so not only do I have to listen to this dumbass I have to see it fucking twice! Wha-wha-what is your point here? To show you have sex with many women? To prove that you're an asshole? What?! What does this add at all, man? This is why you're never going to get anywhere in this business, dude. You just copy whatever your opponent does, throw your twist on it which the twist is do it badly, and bang your head against a wall continuously forever until you pass out for a few weeks and reappear to no applause and repeat the cycle."

"You see, Hanari, I treat my wrestling career like a good woman or one-night-stand. You don't have to have the abs, money, and horse cock, I do and it does help but you don't need that. You need to keep it cool and be funny. Bitches love funny. So when I pop up from time to time, it doesn't matter what happens because I do my job of making the audience have a great time, I make the wrestlers laugh, I have fun and others love that! That's why people are scrambling for Dick and why no one gives two fucks and a duck about you."

"Look at Mastermind! That dude suuuuuucks! But he's got himself a group of people with him who sucks as much as he does, maybe even worse! So, instead of being forgotten about every week, he and his group force themselves into everything so they have to be seen."

"Look at Greggo! That dude is creepy, ugly, and possible a slug-human hybrid. But he 'manages' Sarah Lacklan, so he has some of that sweet, sweet limelight."

"What do you do, dude? Like, be honest, what have you done where people thought, hot damn, Hanari Carnes sure is an up and comer? What have you done to even be considered a comer? Honestly, when I saw you I thought they just put one of the janitors in a match against me... Not meaning to be racist or anything, not saying all custodians are Hispanic... Some are white too. But c'mon, who are you? Where do you want to be in 5 years? What is your goal, man?"

"Because from the looks of your floundering and failing over and over again it seems like you're actually proud of being the blank space between the lines. Some douche who claims to be the most ruthless wrestler in a placed called the Xtreme Wrestling Federation... Do you realize how fucking dumb you sound, dude? Robert Main pretends to be a zombie man but he's still hardcore as fuck, Charlie Nickles is basically a barbwire baseball bat with a poodle perm, Robbie Bourbon powerbombs people into the shadow realm every time he shows up, Doctor D'Ville is here! He's fucking crazy! And Lacklan can tie people into knots while Fortnite dancing on them and you have the BALLS to say your style of wrestling is the most ruthless!?"

"You."

"The blandest man on the planet."

"The most ruthless!?"

"Dude. Get a grip!"

"I have seen girl scouts more ruthless than you. I would take a cross-armbreaker from you any day than have to deal with those tiny drug-pushing devils. You're not sadistic or brutal, you wear a fucking eggshell white dress scarf for Christ's sake. You make empty threats we're supposed to take seriously because... Reasons? You say you're as cool as a cucumber when just before you fail at tearing me a new asshole everyone witnessed you cry and blow snot bubbles at a girl because she didn't like you for you. Dude, I think I could beat you with a warm blanket and tub of Hagen-Dasz you gigantic pussy. Then in the dumbest leap of logic I have ever seen is that you have a better chance of beating Main because you faced him a few times before."

"Did you happen to win at any of those times?"

"Because I don't think you did so clearly he has the upper hand in matches against you. At the very least, when he faces me he won't see it coming. He won't know to look out for. Y'know how memory works, right Hanari? If something is new, it's kinda hard to predict. I doubt Main remembers how to beat your ass like border patrol from the first time he won against you, you magnificent ."

"Dude, you suck."

"You are so bad at this job it's made me motivated enough to do a second promo just to tell you this."

"I am going to do the world and Main the biggest favor and not have anyone see Carnes have another undeserved title shot. And if Wizard wins that's sweet too, magic is dope and the robes are breezy and it feels great on a windy day."

"Hanari, I'm gonna skullfuck you and teabag your corpse, dude. No Dicking around, it's time to beat up a misogynist. Adios, amigo!"


]]>
My Mind's Tellin' Me No

Hola, mi nombre es Dick pero puedes llamarme papi.
(Hello, my name is Dick but you can call me daddy.)

Man, that felt weird to think. Can you imagine if some moron did an entire promo like that? That would be pretty fucking annoying. I take a sip from my Mojito as I recline on a sunbed in the sweltering heat. A droplet of water falls from the glass and lands on my ripped chest and flows down hitting my nipple and erecting it before disappearing down my silk kimono. You watch this and melt like butter, a quivering surges in your nether regions one that you haven't felt since you were 14 years old when the busty Ms Hancock bent over to help you with a maths question, exposing her plump breasts mere inches from your face. Sure, she was 60 and had varicose veins but this was your first sexual experience as a youngling and it was mind-blowing. Taking your trapper keeper and placing it over the crotch of your JNCOs to hide the first public erection of many, savouring this moment and your thoughts only to be exploded when you got home, staining the bedsheets and scaring your Tamagotchi's short life.

This was the moment you became a man. The earth-shattering, world-changing event! This moment here is something that collapses your world view and brings you forward into total ecstasy. The warmth from your groin while your spine tingles. The dryness in your mouth conflicting with the moisture in your pants. YES! Let it flow my dudes and dudettes. For this is the greatest moment of your life, something of which you never thought you could see in your lifetime.

This.

Is a second Dick Powers promo.

I'll allow you to recover. Now take this towel and clean yourself up you dirty whore.

I sit up criss-cross applesauce and remove my sunglasses looking at you! The sexy in a weird way and unwashed viewer. Taking a final sip and twitching as that icy cold water drop hits my bull-sized balls. With a gentle smile, I pose you a question I know everyone will say no to.

"Did anyone watch Hanari's bullshit!?"

"What in the ever-loving fuck happened there!? It's like I was watching a movie with subtitles and dubbed over voices; like nothing matched and it just became the longest disorganized mess of shit I've ever seen. Dude, hire a new editor or something because that was so uncool! Was that on purpose or was that girl you fucked your director and you did so bad of a job of handing over the dick she screwed you over in return?"

"Speaking of smashing, did you have sex just for me? Because I'm the King of Clits? The Slambassador with emphasis on the ASS? Big Dick with the Biggus Dickus? You shouldn't have! Is this what you do? You clearly lack any form of identity so you just latch onto whatever your opponent is and copy them in some vein attempt to drain charisma from them? Like some kind of tanned vampire. You're like a cuckoo bird, dude. Laying your eggs in a rival's nest. It's pretty fucking desperate not gonna lie. If you're gonna have sex in a promo at least make it seem fun!"

"You delivered the under the ball shot in porn with this failure of a promo. You bang this chick who very clearly fakes an orgasm and then you fucking cuss her out!?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you man!?"

"You bang this girl you JUST met and then proceed to degrade her? The fuck!? Have you had sex before? Have you ever talked to a woman? Be rough yeah, spank her ass, spit in her mouth and call her names when you're rearranging her guts but just to switch to being a complete asshole afterward is the boldest fucking neg I have ever seen. You clearly know women well, man by talking about yourself and your furniture. Shit dude, you must be swimming in puss in between murdering people because they have a better business card than you."

"You, haha! You don't let her answer when you start harassing her like a cop with penis envy and intimacy issues and you accuse her, I quote, for only sleeping in with you because she knew how famous you are."

I stammer, throwing out my large, moisturized palms with a chuckle.

"You? You have the audacity to claim to be so famous that chicks want your bean burrito? And then you complain about that!? Dude, I promise, you are forgotten about on a weekly basis. I show up every other pay-per-view and people always remember me and still love me, baby, I get way more attention that you could dream of and you honestly believe that chicks want you because you're a low-tier side character on a wrestling show!? Fucking what!?"

"So, you berate this girl, get mad like an incel and kick her out? That is the most brutal post-nut clarity I have ever fucking seen, dude. All the way, the dialogue switches between Spanish and English so not only do I have to listen to this dumbass I have to see it fucking twice! Wha-wha-what is your point here? To show you have sex with many women? To prove that you're an asshole? What?! What does this add at all, man? This is why you're never going to get anywhere in this business, dude. You just copy whatever your opponent does, throw your twist on it which the twist is do it badly, and bang your head against a wall continuously forever until you pass out for a few weeks and reappear to no applause and repeat the cycle."

"You see, Hanari, I treat my wrestling career like a good woman or one-night-stand. You don't have to have the abs, money, and horse cock, I do and it does help but you don't need that. You need to keep it cool and be funny. Bitches love funny. So when I pop up from time to time, it doesn't matter what happens because I do my job of making the audience have a great time, I make the wrestlers laugh, I have fun and others love that! That's why people are scrambling for Dick and why no one gives two fucks and a duck about you."

"Look at Mastermind! That dude suuuuuucks! But he's got himself a group of people with him who sucks as much as he does, maybe even worse! So, instead of being forgotten about every week, he and his group force themselves into everything so they have to be seen."

"Look at Greggo! That dude is creepy, ugly, and possible a slug-human hybrid. But he 'manages' Sarah Lacklan, so he has some of that sweet, sweet limelight."

"What do you do, dude? Like, be honest, what have you done where people thought, hot damn, Hanari Carnes sure is an up and comer? What have you done to even be considered a comer? Honestly, when I saw you I thought they just put one of the janitors in a match against me... Not meaning to be racist or anything, not saying all custodians are Hispanic... Some are white too. But c'mon, who are you? Where do you want to be in 5 years? What is your goal, man?"

"Because from the looks of your floundering and failing over and over again it seems like you're actually proud of being the blank space between the lines. Some douche who claims to be the most ruthless wrestler in a placed called the Xtreme Wrestling Federation... Do you realize how fucking dumb you sound, dude? Robert Main pretends to be a zombie man but he's still hardcore as fuck, Charlie Nickles is basically a barbwire baseball bat with a poodle perm, Robbie Bourbon powerbombs people into the shadow realm every time he shows up, Doctor D'Ville is here! He's fucking crazy! And Lacklan can tie people into knots while Fortnite dancing on them and you have the BALLS to say your style of wrestling is the most ruthless!?"

"You."

"The blandest man on the planet."

"The most ruthless!?"

"Dude. Get a grip!"

"I have seen girl scouts more ruthless than you. I would take a cross-armbreaker from you any day than have to deal with those tiny drug-pushing devils. You're not sadistic or brutal, you wear a fucking eggshell white dress scarf for Christ's sake. You make empty threats we're supposed to take seriously because... Reasons? You say you're as cool as a cucumber when just before you fail at tearing me a new asshole everyone witnessed you cry and blow snot bubbles at a girl because she didn't like you for you. Dude, I think I could beat you with a warm blanket and tub of Hagen-Dasz you gigantic pussy. Then in the dumbest leap of logic I have ever seen is that you have a better chance of beating Main because you faced him a few times before."

"Did you happen to win at any of those times?"

"Because I don't think you did so clearly he has the upper hand in matches against you. At the very least, when he faces me he won't see it coming. He won't know to look out for. Y'know how memory works, right Hanari? If something is new, it's kinda hard to predict. I doubt Main remembers how to beat your ass like border patrol from the first time he won against you, you magnificent ."

"Dude, you suck."

"You are so bad at this job it's made me motivated enough to do a second promo just to tell you this."

"I am going to do the world and Main the biggest favor and not have anyone see Carnes have another undeserved title shot. And if Wizard wins that's sweet too, magic is dope and the robes are breezy and it feels great on a windy day."

"Hanari, I'm gonna skullfuck you and teabag your corpse, dude. No Dicking around, it's time to beat up a misogynist. Adios, amigo!"


]]> <![CDATA[The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38261 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 20:04:47 -0700 Gator]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38261











The scene fades into a production truck. Three men are busy working at a series of consoles and monitors; we get closer and closer to a slightly tubby gentleman in a beanie and a hoodie. His fist resting against his cheek as he stares at a monitor and clears his throat.


"Can we get another angle of the prison? Like, one that shows off the set on the roof."


He speaks into a mic and the image on the monitor switches angles, a voice comes through his headset.


"That look good, Todd?"


"Yeah that's good! Okay, Randy!"


A man in a white shirt turn to Todd, placing down a clipboard.


"We need to make sure pyrotechnics are ready, can you head over and make sure everything is in place?"


"Sure thing, you get the Thunder Knuckles promo by the way?"


"Yeah, it's all done now. Thank you."


Randy gives a smirk and a nod and goes to exit only to be hit by the door and knocked back, Todd spins around to check the commotion, and his face drops as soon as he lays eyes on the masked man decked in red holding his arms out wide, a large smile forming under his mask as his eyes meet with Todds.


"Todd!"


Gator strolls over as Todd panics scrambling away.


"No, no, no NO!"


Gator chuckles grabbing Todd's hood and dragging him off the chair and sliding him across the floor, Todd struggles for a moment before giving up, his face seemingly aging and getting chunkier as he gives up and lets Gator take him outside. Some time passes, Gator cheerily whistles a tune as he looks around at the old prison in the bright daylight. Todd stares blankly at his feet, sulking as he is dragged across the gravel.


"This place is nice! Think they do weddings here?"


Gator looks back to Todd who remains silent.


"Not getting married but just curious y'know. Be cool to get hitched in the same place Al Capone went mad because syphilis infected his brain. Speaking of syphilis are you ill or something? You lost so much weight mate! Feels like I'm dragging a mini-fridge instead of an actual fridge."


Todd stays quiet, crossing his arms as his body jolts to the bumps heading down the path.


"Congrats on the promotion too! Head of production! *whistles* Pretty snazzy dude!"


A sigh leaves Todd's mouth, Gator rolls his eyes.


"Wish I brought your papoose, make this a lot easier. Think I left it at that park in Dallas 3 years ago though. You remember that? You had a great time, catching the frisbee, playing on the slides, we had to leave early though because that kid pushed you off the swings and then you started crying. Remember that buddy?"


Todd digs his heels into the ground and Gator slows as Todd stands to his feet dusting himself off. Gator stops and watches as the chubby Canadian digs his hands into his pockets and walks in front of Gator, the Brit laughs as he walks alongside him.


"Where are we going?"


"See the sights, mate! I dunno, I'm back on the grind. Sadly can't just sit in my hotel room and wank off anymore, XWF needs pretty pictures of me being a non-haggard cunt to promote mine and Doc's match."


"That's it?"


Todd gives a shrug as Gator searches his pockets for a cigarette.


"That's it. Look, I'm not here to go through the same bullshit I did last time. I'm not gonna jump through hoops and be another generic has-been that makes his 'comeback' seem like it's the biggest fucking deal known to man."


Gator pulls a crumpled cigarette from a barely noticeable chest pocket and straightens it out. Todd halts his pace.


"So no, hey, I've missed you, let's catch-up. Just straight back to the same old shit."


"It's not the same old shit, this time is different."


Gator rolls up his mask to expose his mouth.


"How?"


Gator pulls a match and strikes it against his boot to spark his cigarette. He tosses the match and inhales the smoke staring at Todd before exhaling and pacing.


"I'm more self-aware about the bullshit this time."


Todd gives an exhausted laugh pinching the bridge of his nose.


"Jesus, it never stops with you! I saw your last promo y'know."


Gator gives a smirk.


"Yeah I would head of production would."


"Y- ... You said you didn't want to go through the rigamarole that every else did and now what are you doing? Bringing along me to go on some wacky adventure where I get made fun of and you get to make some stupid jokes. You haven't changed in 6 years, Jake. I have. I'm fucking over this."


Gator scratches his chin as Todd turns away.


"I'm dying, Todd."


Todd stops and lifts his head up with a short, scratchy breath. He slowly looks to Gator.


"R-Really?"


Gator rubs his upper lip before sniffing up.


"No, not really."


Todd sneers and continues to walk away, Gator jogs in front of his and places a palm against his chest.


"But imagine if I was! How bad would you feel? C'mon man, I've missed you, really! You're my best friend and THE best cameraman I have ever had."


"I'm the only cameraman you've had."


"That's not true! Remember Rodd? I gave him to Sane as a Christmas present after he lost the Cameraman Olympics."


Todd laughs shaking his head, he knocks the back of his hand against Gator's shoulder.


"That's what I don't want! You treated me like a joke. You made me run through made-up games, you abused me, drugged me, and named your dog 'Better Todd' just to spite me."


"Ah, Better Todd. He was such a good boy."


Gator looks in the middle distance to reminisce.


"You only care about yourself, I don't have time for it."


"Todd!"


Gator wraps both his hands on Todd's shoulders and lowers himself to eye level.


"It was just banter, cunt."


"Are you fucking kidding me?"


"But look how strong it made you! Standing up for yourself, with a great job and being the one that gets to tell other people what to do. I molded you from the little doughy bitch you were into the Pillsbury Doughboy!"


Gator jabs a finger into Todd's gut who gives a little giggle.


"I need you, bro. Gator and Todd! You were always the draw to my promos anyway! I was just the asshole who punched dickheads."


"So... In a way you could say you were jealous of me?"


Gator hesitates and bites his tongue. He releases Todd's shoulders and stands up striaght, towering over him as he continues the cigarette.


"Sure man, I was jealous. People loved you, Azrael wanted to marry you, people cared about you, they felt for you... You were the perfect sidekick because you are human! You're the element that makes me appear functional. If everyone had a Todd, they'd be happy and look like real boys and girls instead of the joyless marionettes everyone has seemed to turn into."


Todd rolls his neck before looking up to Gator and giving a nod.


"Okay, okay. Let's get so see the sights or whatever."


Gator claps his hands together with a laugh, he flicks the cigarette away from him as he and Todd walk down the path. Gator throws an arm over Todd's shoulder and squeezes tightly.


"Look at us! The boys back in the saddle!"


"It is pretty exciting to have you back. Even if you are a huge asshole."


"Oh Todd I am the Goatsy of mankind. There's no denying that, buddy. You remember how much I relied on you when we cut promos? You always had the scoop on wrestlers, always paid attention such a dedicated fan and worker."


"Well, yeah, it was part of the job."


"Of course! So... Any news on D'Ville? He sent a promo across that needs your eye?"


"Wait."


Todd stops again, giving a crooked look to Gator.


"You didn't find me just to get the edge on Doc, did you?"


Gator gasps, placing a hand on his heart.


"Todd! I am shocked, sir! I would never!"


"It really seems like you're using me here."


"C'mon mate, why would I? Me and Doc have so much history, I don't need you help to remind me what a vapid cunt he is."


Todd looks Gator up and down before continuing his walk.


"Okay... Couldn't help you anyway, Doc's stuff just... Appears."


Gator tuts looking away and mumbles.


"Of course it fucking does."


He looks back to Todd with a smile.


"No matter. Got a plan on how to beat the prick anyway."


"Punch him a bunch until he falls down? That was your old strat."


"Well, Todd, I too have grown. Using my nogging this time."


"... You're gonna headbutt him?"


"No, dickhead! Well, maybe BUT what I'm going to do is surprise him. Doc is one of, if not the biggest threats the XWF has ever seen, there's no denying that. But he's old and predictable, he always starts off with the smug bullshit before exploding into rage, fire and brimstone. He always looks for a way to twist the blade the moment his bony hand reaches onto your shoulder. More recently however it's obvious how much of a let down he's become, his one good eye is too big for his stomach and he bites off more than he can chew. Recent(ish) losses, a sit-down with Lane before launching immediately into the devil in disguise bullshit he's been farming for five fucking years. He's not doing this for himself, no, he's doing this to remind people what he was. To try and fool people into believing he's the same man that dominated the XWF years ago. And that's when I jump in."


Todd raises an eyebrow as they near to the shore.


"I'm lost."


"Yeah me too, this island is deceptively large. No wonder people couldn't escape."


Gator scans the horizon, hopping away from the set of stone stairs and dropping into the sand.


"I meant with where you're going with Doc."


"Oh right. So, he wants to remind everyone he used to be good and going the same direction he did when he lost to me. The intrigue of his bullshit that he's trying to push instead of what he became when we last left off in his story. When Soldier was searching for him on a beach or some shit, where he was washed-up, literally. Now, he wants to hit the reset and go back to being an enigma instead of the side character in his own life. Going back to the cunt that lost to me, the mother fucker that smoked a cigar in the shadows and waited in his web. Cunt didn't expect the fly to be so hench."


"So that's it? Your plan is to stay the same while he tries to reclaim what he used to be."


Gator stops searching the scarce bushes in the sand to point at Todd with a smile.


"This is why I need you man, you're a great expo dump."


Gator digs into the sand and retrieves a long stretch of rope and begins to pull.


"Like I said, Doc is incredible and I don't think I could beat him when he's motivated. He's the spider and I'm the fly. He's weaving his intrigue and waiting for me to fall into his trap. Just like he did so many years ago. But there's always a way to beat up the bigger kid. Elephants are scared of mice, worms eat through us when we die and bees make a hive in the corpses of lions. The smallest change of wind can wreck sails and crash ships. What makes this time different is that Doc wants to be different. He hasn't grown, he hasn't learned, he hasn't lived. Doc vanished and was placed in a stasis chamber until he needed to wake up and when he did he remembered the time he lost to Lux and what went wrong. He remembered how he used to be and wanted to be that man again. He wanted to be the man that couldn't beat me, he wanted that rush of adrenaline again from when we first ever faced off. He thinks he can win just because he's Doc."


"Forgetting that I'm Gator."


"Forgetting the fact that I used to be one of the best in the company. Forgetting that I gave him the best fights of his fucking life. Forgetting that I am the best TV champ that ever graced XWF... Look how they massacred my boy, Todd! The fuck is going on with that title?"


Todd shrugs.


"Might have to talk with Atticus about that."


Gator shakes his head as he retrieves a small paddle boat and pushes it to the water.


"The biggest change Doc has made is his production value. The cunt's just a husk as of right now and I'd be a dumb fuck not to take advantage of that. He wants to play the big hound chasing my little pussy forgetting I have teeth and claws of my own. I've changed, I learned, I got better and that boiled egg looking, egomaniacal fuck boy flashing his dentures at the camera as spooky Halloween music plays has another fucking thing coming if he thinks he can just come over, calling me a cheater at checkers and just rolling through a pay-per-view cheque just to fucking disappear for another year. Fuck that, someone actually needs to remind the prick that there are people who could hang with him back in the day and can still knock him down now. Get in the boat, Todd."


Gator holds his hands on his hip waiting for Todd to enter who very gingerly does.


"David toppled Goliath when everyone thought he would have no chance. It's odd, history is repeating itself yet manipulating in the same way. D'Ville lost to me when I was on top, I lost to him when he was on top and now... We're both circling the drain. Floating in the void when there's solid ground beneath our feet. No one knows what we're really capable of but everyone thinks Doc will win because he's Doc. And the prune-faced cunt thinks he can go back to being the same Doctor that people believed in just because he's Doc."


Gator pushes the boat out into the water and hops on, grabbing an oar.


"So, here's what I'm gonna do. We're gonna sail to land, get a bagel and catch-up. Then I'm going to drink, go to sleep, wake up and remind D'Ville how it feels to have a size 10 in his colon. Show the new kids how to make origami with barbwire and D'Ville's forehead. Fucking burst into that ring and bitch slap the cunt so fucking hard it causes a ripple in time and his past self feels that shit causing him to lose against me back in 2014. I will drag him from one end of the Rose Bowl to the fucking other I'll win by scoring a touchdown. I'm gonna embarrass the cunt so much he'll pull a Cobain before the crowd leaves for the piss break match after ours."


"That's it?"


"... That's it. Same old bullshit but with a different coat of paint."


Gator rows as the shot pulls away further and further before the scene slowly fades to black.


]]>











The scene fades into a production truck. Three men are busy working at a series of consoles and monitors; we get closer and closer to a slightly tubby gentleman in a beanie and a hoodie. His fist resting against his cheek as he stares at a monitor and clears his throat.


"Can we get another angle of the prison? Like, one that shows off the set on the roof."


He speaks into a mic and the image on the monitor switches angles, a voice comes through his headset.


"That look good, Todd?"


"Yeah that's good! Okay, Randy!"


A man in a white shirt turn to Todd, placing down a clipboard.


"We need to make sure pyrotechnics are ready, can you head over and make sure everything is in place?"


"Sure thing, you get the Thunder Knuckles promo by the way?"


"Yeah, it's all done now. Thank you."


Randy gives a smirk and a nod and goes to exit only to be hit by the door and knocked back, Todd spins around to check the commotion, and his face drops as soon as he lays eyes on the masked man decked in red holding his arms out wide, a large smile forming under his mask as his eyes meet with Todds.


"Todd!"


Gator strolls over as Todd panics scrambling away.


"No, no, no NO!"


Gator chuckles grabbing Todd's hood and dragging him off the chair and sliding him across the floor, Todd struggles for a moment before giving up, his face seemingly aging and getting chunkier as he gives up and lets Gator take him outside. Some time passes, Gator cheerily whistles a tune as he looks around at the old prison in the bright daylight. Todd stares blankly at his feet, sulking as he is dragged across the gravel.


"This place is nice! Think they do weddings here?"


Gator looks back to Todd who remains silent.


"Not getting married but just curious y'know. Be cool to get hitched in the same place Al Capone went mad because syphilis infected his brain. Speaking of syphilis are you ill or something? You lost so much weight mate! Feels like I'm dragging a mini-fridge instead of an actual fridge."


Todd stays quiet, crossing his arms as his body jolts to the bumps heading down the path.


"Congrats on the promotion too! Head of production! *whistles* Pretty snazzy dude!"


A sigh leaves Todd's mouth, Gator rolls his eyes.


"Wish I brought your papoose, make this a lot easier. Think I left it at that park in Dallas 3 years ago though. You remember that? You had a great time, catching the frisbee, playing on the slides, we had to leave early though because that kid pushed you off the swings and then you started crying. Remember that buddy?"


Todd digs his heels into the ground and Gator slows as Todd stands to his feet dusting himself off. Gator stops and watches as the chubby Canadian digs his hands into his pockets and walks in front of Gator, the Brit laughs as he walks alongside him.


"Where are we going?"


"See the sights, mate! I dunno, I'm back on the grind. Sadly can't just sit in my hotel room and wank off anymore, XWF needs pretty pictures of me being a non-haggard cunt to promote mine and Doc's match."


"That's it?"


Todd gives a shrug as Gator searches his pockets for a cigarette.


"That's it. Look, I'm not here to go through the same bullshit I did last time. I'm not gonna jump through hoops and be another generic has-been that makes his 'comeback' seem like it's the biggest fucking deal known to man."


Gator pulls a crumpled cigarette from a barely noticeable chest pocket and straightens it out. Todd halts his pace.


"So no, hey, I've missed you, let's catch-up. Just straight back to the same old shit."


"It's not the same old shit, this time is different."


Gator rolls up his mask to expose his mouth.


"How?"


Gator pulls a match and strikes it against his boot to spark his cigarette. He tosses the match and inhales the smoke staring at Todd before exhaling and pacing.


"I'm more self-aware about the bullshit this time."


Todd gives an exhausted laugh pinching the bridge of his nose.


"Jesus, it never stops with you! I saw your last promo y'know."


Gator gives a smirk.


"Yeah I would head of production would."


"Y- ... You said you didn't want to go through the rigamarole that every else did and now what are you doing? Bringing along me to go on some wacky adventure where I get made fun of and you get to make some stupid jokes. You haven't changed in 6 years, Jake. I have. I'm fucking over this."


Gator scratches his chin as Todd turns away.


"I'm dying, Todd."


Todd stops and lifts his head up with a short, scratchy breath. He slowly looks to Gator.


"R-Really?"


Gator rubs his upper lip before sniffing up.


"No, not really."


Todd sneers and continues to walk away, Gator jogs in front of his and places a palm against his chest.


"But imagine if I was! How bad would you feel? C'mon man, I've missed you, really! You're my best friend and THE best cameraman I have ever had."


"I'm the only cameraman you've had."


"That's not true! Remember Rodd? I gave him to Sane as a Christmas present after he lost the Cameraman Olympics."


Todd laughs shaking his head, he knocks the back of his hand against Gator's shoulder.


"That's what I don't want! You treated me like a joke. You made me run through made-up games, you abused me, drugged me, and named your dog 'Better Todd' just to spite me."


"Ah, Better Todd. He was such a good boy."


Gator looks in the middle distance to reminisce.


"You only care about yourself, I don't have time for it."


"Todd!"


Gator wraps both his hands on Todd's shoulders and lowers himself to eye level.


"It was just banter, cunt."


"Are you fucking kidding me?"


"But look how strong it made you! Standing up for yourself, with a great job and being the one that gets to tell other people what to do. I molded you from the little doughy bitch you were into the Pillsbury Doughboy!"


Gator jabs a finger into Todd's gut who gives a little giggle.


"I need you, bro. Gator and Todd! You were always the draw to my promos anyway! I was just the asshole who punched dickheads."


"So... In a way you could say you were jealous of me?"


Gator hesitates and bites his tongue. He releases Todd's shoulders and stands up striaght, towering over him as he continues the cigarette.


"Sure man, I was jealous. People loved you, Azrael wanted to marry you, people cared about you, they felt for you... You were the perfect sidekick because you are human! You're the element that makes me appear functional. If everyone had a Todd, they'd be happy and look like real boys and girls instead of the joyless marionettes everyone has seemed to turn into."


Todd rolls his neck before looking up to Gator and giving a nod.


"Okay, okay. Let's get so see the sights or whatever."


Gator claps his hands together with a laugh, he flicks the cigarette away from him as he and Todd walk down the path. Gator throws an arm over Todd's shoulder and squeezes tightly.


"Look at us! The boys back in the saddle!"


"It is pretty exciting to have you back. Even if you are a huge asshole."


"Oh Todd I am the Goatsy of mankind. There's no denying that, buddy. You remember how much I relied on you when we cut promos? You always had the scoop on wrestlers, always paid attention such a dedicated fan and worker."


"Well, yeah, it was part of the job."


"Of course! So... Any news on D'Ville? He sent a promo across that needs your eye?"


"Wait."


Todd stops again, giving a crooked look to Gator.


"You didn't find me just to get the edge on Doc, did you?"


Gator gasps, placing a hand on his heart.


"Todd! I am shocked, sir! I would never!"


"It really seems like you're using me here."


"C'mon mate, why would I? Me and Doc have so much history, I don't need you help to remind me what a vapid cunt he is."


Todd looks Gator up and down before continuing his walk.


"Okay... Couldn't help you anyway, Doc's stuff just... Appears."


Gator tuts looking away and mumbles.


"Of course it fucking does."


He looks back to Todd with a smile.


"No matter. Got a plan on how to beat the prick anyway."


"Punch him a bunch until he falls down? That was your old strat."


"Well, Todd, I too have grown. Using my nogging this time."


"... You're gonna headbutt him?"


"No, dickhead! Well, maybe BUT what I'm going to do is surprise him. Doc is one of, if not the biggest threats the XWF has ever seen, there's no denying that. But he's old and predictable, he always starts off with the smug bullshit before exploding into rage, fire and brimstone. He always looks for a way to twist the blade the moment his bony hand reaches onto your shoulder. More recently however it's obvious how much of a let down he's become, his one good eye is too big for his stomach and he bites off more than he can chew. Recent(ish) losses, a sit-down with Lane before launching immediately into the devil in disguise bullshit he's been farming for five fucking years. He's not doing this for himself, no, he's doing this to remind people what he was. To try and fool people into believing he's the same man that dominated the XWF years ago. And that's when I jump in."


Todd raises an eyebrow as they near to the shore.


"I'm lost."


"Yeah me too, this island is deceptively large. No wonder people couldn't escape."


Gator scans the horizon, hopping away from the set of stone stairs and dropping into the sand.


"I meant with where you're going with Doc."


"Oh right. So, he wants to remind everyone he used to be good and going the same direction he did when he lost to me. The intrigue of his bullshit that he's trying to push instead of what he became when we last left off in his story. When Soldier was searching for him on a beach or some shit, where he was washed-up, literally. Now, he wants to hit the reset and go back to being an enigma instead of the side character in his own life. Going back to the cunt that lost to me, the mother fucker that smoked a cigar in the shadows and waited in his web. Cunt didn't expect the fly to be so hench."


"So that's it? Your plan is to stay the same while he tries to reclaim what he used to be."


Gator stops searching the scarce bushes in the sand to point at Todd with a smile.


"This is why I need you man, you're a great expo dump."


Gator digs into the sand and retrieves a long stretch of rope and begins to pull.


"Like I said, Doc is incredible and I don't think I could beat him when he's motivated. He's the spider and I'm the fly. He's weaving his intrigue and waiting for me to fall into his trap. Just like he did so many years ago. But there's always a way to beat up the bigger kid. Elephants are scared of mice, worms eat through us when we die and bees make a hive in the corpses of lions. The smallest change of wind can wreck sails and crash ships. What makes this time different is that Doc wants to be different. He hasn't grown, he hasn't learned, he hasn't lived. Doc vanished and was placed in a stasis chamber until he needed to wake up and when he did he remembered the time he lost to Lux and what went wrong. He remembered how he used to be and wanted to be that man again. He wanted to be the man that couldn't beat me, he wanted that rush of adrenaline again from when we first ever faced off. He thinks he can win just because he's Doc."


"Forgetting that I'm Gator."


"Forgetting the fact that I used to be one of the best in the company. Forgetting that I gave him the best fights of his fucking life. Forgetting that I am the best TV champ that ever graced XWF... Look how they massacred my boy, Todd! The fuck is going on with that title?"


Todd shrugs.


"Might have to talk with Atticus about that."


Gator shakes his head as he retrieves a small paddle boat and pushes it to the water.


"The biggest change Doc has made is his production value. The cunt's just a husk as of right now and I'd be a dumb fuck not to take advantage of that. He wants to play the big hound chasing my little pussy forgetting I have teeth and claws of my own. I've changed, I learned, I got better and that boiled egg looking, egomaniacal fuck boy flashing his dentures at the camera as spooky Halloween music plays has another fucking thing coming if he thinks he can just come over, calling me a cheater at checkers and just rolling through a pay-per-view cheque just to fucking disappear for another year. Fuck that, someone actually needs to remind the prick that there are people who could hang with him back in the day and can still knock him down now. Get in the boat, Todd."


Gator holds his hands on his hip waiting for Todd to enter who very gingerly does.


"David toppled Goliath when everyone thought he would have no chance. It's odd, history is repeating itself yet manipulating in the same way. D'Ville lost to me when I was on top, I lost to him when he was on top and now... We're both circling the drain. Floating in the void when there's solid ground beneath our feet. No one knows what we're really capable of but everyone thinks Doc will win because he's Doc. And the prune-faced cunt thinks he can go back to being the same Doctor that people believed in just because he's Doc."


Gator pushes the boat out into the water and hops on, grabbing an oar.


"So, here's what I'm gonna do. We're gonna sail to land, get a bagel and catch-up. Then I'm going to drink, go to sleep, wake up and remind D'Ville how it feels to have a size 10 in his colon. Show the new kids how to make origami with barbwire and D'Ville's forehead. Fucking burst into that ring and bitch slap the cunt so fucking hard it causes a ripple in time and his past self feels that shit causing him to lose against me back in 2014. I will drag him from one end of the Rose Bowl to the fucking other I'll win by scoring a touchdown. I'm gonna embarrass the cunt so much he'll pull a Cobain before the crowd leaves for the piss break match after ours."


"That's it?"


"... That's it. Same old bullshit but with a different coat of paint."


Gator rows as the shot pulls away further and further before the scene slowly fades to black.


]]> <![CDATA[Gladiators...come out and plaaaay]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38332 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 18:18:21 -0700 John_Black]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38332 Look, I haven't been in the ring for awhile, since I was busy tryin' to reel in my loses in my life. I won't get into specific details, but I'll just say that I want to have a change of pace in my life right now. I might not be in the ring, and stinking up the joint with my Blacklisted special on those who don't fuck with me, but doesn't mean I don't have a chance at beating some American Gladiators asses at Rose Bowl.

You see, i don't want to just fight em.. I want to wreck em back into the 80s where they belong. I am not going to just walk out in Rose Bowl, and just fight like a bitch... imma come out of there like true ass warrior in the streets of California. I want them to know that, "hey this mafukka still gotz it" and a I can hold my head up high in the sky, knowing I was able to be the only one to fight them rioded out freaks from nowhere.

I've seen the show before, and I had to turn that shit off since it's just exploiting those strong fucks who think they can handle there own in a real fight. Well, it seems to be nothing more than just them being bustas on there own merit of relevancy, and I am here to say that they need a reality check from a metal masked man like myself, and I know most people will be focused on way better cards instead of a pre show like this caliber.

Well, at this point I am here to say.... JOHN MAFACKKIN BLACK IS BACK AND IS READY BUST SOME CAPS IN THESE AMERICAN GLADIATORS ASSES AT MAFACKKIN ROSE BOWL THIS SUNDAY.

If I don't make it on the pre-show against them, or it gets scrapped... well, I just wanted to let y'all know i am ready to fight against them, and kill em off one by one.

JB out bitchez....see y'all on Sunday.]]> Look, I haven't been in the ring for awhile, since I was busy tryin' to reel in my loses in my life. I won't get into specific details, but I'll just say that I want to have a change of pace in my life right now. I might not be in the ring, and stinking up the joint with my Blacklisted special on those who don't fuck with me, but doesn't mean I don't have a chance at beating some American Gladiators asses at Rose Bowl.

You see, i don't want to just fight em.. I want to wreck em back into the 80s where they belong. I am not going to just walk out in Rose Bowl, and just fight like a bitch... imma come out of there like true ass warrior in the streets of California. I want them to know that, "hey this mafukka still gotz it" and a I can hold my head up high in the sky, knowing I was able to be the only one to fight them rioded out freaks from nowhere.

I've seen the show before, and I had to turn that shit off since it's just exploiting those strong fucks who think they can handle there own in a real fight. Well, it seems to be nothing more than just them being bustas on there own merit of relevancy, and I am here to say that they need a reality check from a metal masked man like myself, and I know most people will be focused on way better cards instead of a pre show like this caliber.

Well, at this point I am here to say.... JOHN MAFACKKIN BLACK IS BACK AND IS READY BUST SOME CAPS IN THESE AMERICAN GLADIATORS ASSES AT MAFACKKIN ROSE BOWL THIS SUNDAY.

If I don't make it on the pre-show against them, or it gets scrapped... well, I just wanted to let y'all know i am ready to fight against them, and kill em off one by one.

JB out bitchez....see y'all on Sunday.]]> <![CDATA[Seeds of Doubt...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38331 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 13:11:49 -0700 Robert "The Omega" Main]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38331



The sound of rattling chains cut the musty air like a knife....



[Image: hBw5vND.jpg]



Wizard... I know your watching... I can feel the tension building...



Sinister laughter comes from the darkness... As Wizards body begins trembling sending shivers down his yellow spine.







I tried to give you fair warning... Hell, I even tried to save you from the devastation... But you didn't listen, did you? No, no... You had a point to prove to the world... Now you'll get smoked...



The rattle of his breath was suddenly lost...



Now you sit there, your adrenaline shifting into overdrive... I know you're scared... I felt it when I cracked your skull, I heard it in your voice after I ended Fantasia... I witnessed you break right there and then... You waived the white flag because you knew deep down inside that you'd have to kill me to put me down... It isn't in you, and you know it... You painted yourself into a corner, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide... People like you have skeletons in the closet, and it's those secrets that keep you sick, your dishonesty keeps you alive...



The camera pans towards the concrete revealing a human skull with dice sitting in each of the orbital bones.



[Image: RSkoEKW.jpg]



Wizard you'll roll snake eyes every time you roll a crooked set of dice... Now you will feel the darkness as it pulls you deep down into the pits of hell. Your skin will blister from the no holds barred beating I'm about to unleash upon you... Your blood will boil as I slowly drain your life away... Super Relentless I will break you in half, toss you to the side leaving you for dead and go about my business... You are nothing to me... Just another bump in my road... Wherever you are sitting at right now, wrestling with your thoughts of dread. Know you did this to yourself... You wanted a confrontation with someone more formidable, well you got it... You walked out of that Mastermind facade with a big head... You hoped out of the pan and into a fucking fire... I'm no Mastermind... I'm living breathing hell on wheels... You've lost this war before it ever began... You allowed me to creep into your head and spread my seeds of doubt... All before we ever hit the ring... I forced you to shake the hand of doubt... I made you give in... And make no mistake about it, your head injury will have nothing to do with the outcome of this match... You being a frightened man will, your inability to outclass a premiere athlete will lead to your downfall... You will not be facing Robert Main... Who by himself would shred you of your soul... Main would smash you from pillar to post and not even break a sweat...



Between the rattles of his breath was noisy sniffs...



The Omega already showed you a world of violence you didn't believe existed... Centurion has these same beliefs... He too buries his head in the sand telling himself it will all be okay... You can't ride on a rainbow in this life... There is no silver lining. There is only pain and suffering... Once I obtained this belt I found my calling... I became the reaper of wayward souls... Relentless I collect another lifeforce growing stronger than before... The Omega would have ground your bones into fine dust and not thought twice about it... But there will be no Omega in this match... No, you are going to face something more... Something that will terrorize the XWF for years to come... You face the Monstrosity...



Footsteps slowly begin to make their way towards the camera.



Did you think not showing up week one would make things easier on you... That I'd go easy on you... You hid in the shadows because you knew going in there was no chance in hell you would walk out with the X-title... 2020 is the year of The Monstrosity... I will finish this year undefeated, painting the ring with the blood of my challengers... Centurion and Ruby will falter... Thunder Knuckles will get annihilated... Graves will be humbled. The number one contender to this Championship will be dismantled brick by brick... And you Wizard will be taught a valuable lesson...






Stay...



In...



Your...



Lane...



The rest of this year I will showcase murderousness brutality this business has never seen before... And I'm just getting warmed up...



The Monstrosity steps through the chains with X-title over his shoulder.



Wizard...




I'll...



See...



You...



Soon...












































I think I need to see a Doctor...



The Monstrosity leers down at a photograph.



[Image: 3QxJS3r.jpg]



[Image: 4FyS94t.jpg]



He crumbles the picture in his fist.







[Image: giphy.gif]




]]>



The sound of rattling chains cut the musty air like a knife....



[Image: hBw5vND.jpg]



Wizard... I know your watching... I can feel the tension building...



Sinister laughter comes from the darkness... As Wizards body begins trembling sending shivers down his yellow spine.







I tried to give you fair warning... Hell, I even tried to save you from the devastation... But you didn't listen, did you? No, no... You had a point to prove to the world... Now you'll get smoked...



The rattle of his breath was suddenly lost...



Now you sit there, your adrenaline shifting into overdrive... I know you're scared... I felt it when I cracked your skull, I heard it in your voice after I ended Fantasia... I witnessed you break right there and then... You waived the white flag because you knew deep down inside that you'd have to kill me to put me down... It isn't in you, and you know it... You painted yourself into a corner, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide... People like you have skeletons in the closet, and it's those secrets that keep you sick, your dishonesty keeps you alive...



The camera pans towards the concrete revealing a human skull with dice sitting in each of the orbital bones.



[Image: RSkoEKW.jpg]



Wizard you'll roll snake eyes every time you roll a crooked set of dice... Now you will feel the darkness as it pulls you deep down into the pits of hell. Your skin will blister from the no holds barred beating I'm about to unleash upon you... Your blood will boil as I slowly drain your life away... Super Relentless I will break you in half, toss you to the side leaving you for dead and go about my business... You are nothing to me... Just another bump in my road... Wherever you are sitting at right now, wrestling with your thoughts of dread. Know you did this to yourself... You wanted a confrontation with someone more formidable, well you got it... You walked out of that Mastermind facade with a big head... You hoped out of the pan and into a fucking fire... I'm no Mastermind... I'm living breathing hell on wheels... You've lost this war before it ever began... You allowed me to creep into your head and spread my seeds of doubt... All before we ever hit the ring... I forced you to shake the hand of doubt... I made you give in... And make no mistake about it, your head injury will have nothing to do with the outcome of this match... You being a frightened man will, your inability to outclass a premiere athlete will lead to your downfall... You will not be facing Robert Main... Who by himself would shred you of your soul... Main would smash you from pillar to post and not even break a sweat...



Between the rattles of his breath was noisy sniffs...



The Omega already showed you a world of violence you didn't believe existed... Centurion has these same beliefs... He too buries his head in the sand telling himself it will all be okay... You can't ride on a rainbow in this life... There is no silver lining. There is only pain and suffering... Once I obtained this belt I found my calling... I became the reaper of wayward souls... Relentless I collect another lifeforce growing stronger than before... The Omega would have ground your bones into fine dust and not thought twice about it... But there will be no Omega in this match... No, you are going to face something more... Something that will terrorize the XWF for years to come... You face the Monstrosity...



Footsteps slowly begin to make their way towards the camera.



Did you think not showing up week one would make things easier on you... That I'd go easy on you... You hid in the shadows because you knew going in there was no chance in hell you would walk out with the X-title... 2020 is the year of The Monstrosity... I will finish this year undefeated, painting the ring with the blood of my challengers... Centurion and Ruby will falter... Thunder Knuckles will get annihilated... Graves will be humbled. The number one contender to this Championship will be dismantled brick by brick... And you Wizard will be taught a valuable lesson...






Stay...



In...



Your...



Lane...



The rest of this year I will showcase murderousness brutality this business has never seen before... And I'm just getting warmed up...



The Monstrosity steps through the chains with X-title over his shoulder.



Wizard...




I'll...



See...



You...



Soon...












































I think I need to see a Doctor...



The Monstrosity leers down at a photograph.



[Image: 3QxJS3r.jpg]



[Image: 4FyS94t.jpg]



He crumbles the picture in his fist.







[Image: giphy.gif]




]]> <![CDATA[330-366-6066]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38330 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 09:48:47 -0700 Thunder Knuckles™]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38330



**Five times Thunder Knuckles shook the XWF Universe.**
A BOB Production
Narrated by Liev Schreiber



With ten titles in the XWF. Yet still, flourishing throughout the ranks proves to be as difficult as ever to become one of Xtreme Wrestling Federations champions.


Clips of the current Champions being crowned play on your screen.


March Madness: March 29th, 2019 Said:
Winners AND NEW XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS - CHRIS PAGE & ROBERT MAIN “CATACLYSM"

Leap of Faith: July 27th, 202 Said:
YOUR WINNER AND NEW XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: SARAH LACKLAN


YOUR WINNER AND NEW XWF XTREME CHAMPION:
ROBERT "THE OMEGA" MAIN


YOUR WINNER AND NEW XWF HART CHAMPION:
PASHA


Savage: August 29th, 2020 Said:
WINNER AND NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION: "CHRONIC" CHRIS PAGE


Anarchy: September 10th, 2020 Said:
Winner by Pinfall and NEW Anarchy Champion - Miss Fury


(09-11-2020, 08:29 AM)Theo Pryce declaring a Federweight Champion Said: WINNER - THE FREAK

Savage: September 12th, 2020 Said:
WINNER AND NEW SHOOTING STAR CHAMPION - JENNY MYST!


Relentless Night One: September 25th 2020 Said:
YOUR WINNER AND NEW HEAVY METALWEIGHT CHAMPION:
CHARLIE NICKLES



YOUR WINNER AND NEW INTERNET CHAMPION:
MEFISTO







While the attention revolves around the Universal Championship. The toughest of them all remains the stacked Television division, dominated by XWF’s pound for pound kings.


Highlights of the three stages of hell match between Thunder Knuckles and Chronic Chris Page play on your screen where you see Chris Page score the first pinfall then Thunder Knuckles score the second.

The division in which Thunder Knuckles’ Television Title journey restarts at Super Relentless, against one of his toughest opponents, Chronic Chris Page. Page who has been, for what feels like a decade, in amongst the divisions very best.


Clips of CCP vs. Lux play on your screen before the inevitable meltdown.


Even now, Chris Page enters the match as the odds on favorite. Stacking the deck for himself he made the match stipulation of a Pure Rules Wrestling match where the loser gets his head shaved. However, here we take a look at five special moments of Thunder Knuckles’s career. That shows exactly why he was the hottest most dangerous prospect around, and why come Super Relentless September 27, 2020, XWF fans are in for a treat. This is “Five times Thunder Knuckles shook the XWF Universe''.


Your television screen shows a graphic for the program. Followed by Thunder Knuckles making his debut.


First up, one year ago Thunder Knuckles made his debut in the Man Overboard Battle Royale, at Relentless 2019. Where he made a huge statement eliminating BigD for a chance at his choice of titles, either the Hart or Television titles. From that moment the wrestling world would become more and more familiar with the Lima Ohio wrestler. Not long after winning Thunder Knuckles went on to shake the XWF Universe, and fans alike, again.


Your screen now shows Thunder Knuckles eliminating BigD and then celebrating.


Which brings us to number two on the list. When Thunder Knuckles sold his opportunity at one of the two respected titles that he had won at the aforementioned Man Overboard Battle Royale. Selling it to none other than the man he eliminated to secure the prize, BigD, for ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND xbux. No one has been so brazen since.

Now on your screen is showing Thunder Knuckles accepting BigD's xbux. Your screen seamlessly fades into a commercial.


You're about to hear one of the greatest music collections of all time! Some of the biggest hits from XWF's Greatest Wrestler Ever, Chronic Chris Page.


Your screen shows the album cover.


[Image: Ac7zCAN.png]



Slowly song titles scroll from bottom to top while playing samples of the music, such titles as:


Hetero Lifemate [LGBT Techo]

Graves your next feat. the Bump Back Boys [Hardrock]

Canadian Title Television Title [Comedy]


So many wonderful moments. It's hard to believe they are all in one collection!


Again the screen scrolls from bottom to top more classics such as:


It's on HBO [Emo]

Best Pure Wrestler feat. Robert Main [Love Song Duet]

Sit Back And Take Notes [Country]

Look At Me, I'm CCP [in the tune of "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee"]


Chronic Chris Page's Greatest Hits CD is not sold in any store. This beautiful collection is only available for a limited time. Also available on cassette. One easy payment of $29.99 or 10 xbux plus taxes and fees. Allow $40.00 or 15 xbux for Shipping and Handling. To order call 330-366-6066 again that's 330-366-6066.


[Image: 20200925_040658.gif]



Upon the shows return you see Thunder Knuckles making it rain with xbux.


Moving forward to number three on the list. Taking a new approach to making xbux, Thunder Knuckles sold out his teammate in the Lethal Lottery Tag Team tournament on November 2nd, 2019. Costing Sebastian Duke his advancement in the tournament. Thus proving that Thunder Knuckles is here for one thing, and one thing only, xbux.


Your screen shows a shadowy figure handing Thunder Knuckles xbux to take a dive in the Lethal Lottery tournament.


Fast forward eight months, with his moniker still intact. Thunder Knuckles shook the XWF fans once again for number four on the list. Thunder Knuckles was approached with a large sum of xbux, over three hundred thousand xbux. Which would have been his largest payday to date. Instead, He rejects the offer and secured a Team Main win at the War Games Pay-Per-View, on May 31st, 2019. Making a statement with three bone-chilling recorded promos and making it to the Main Event.


A highlight of War Games plays on your screen. Showing as Thunder Knuckles stands up from an already laying down position, to carry Robert Main and Chris Page to victory.


Number five on the list is sure to delight XWF fans around the world. Coming off a loss to Hanari Carnes and being eliminated from the March Madness tournament. That loss turned out to be a blessing in disguise because at the March Madness Pay-Per-View Thunder Knuckles received a shot at the Television Title, against one of the best Television Champions ever, Noah Jackson. Where Thunder Knuckles showed no mercy for someone he looks at as a friend.


Your screen is showing the several knees Thunder Knuckles delivered to his friend Noah Jackson in route to winning the Television Title.


With more time to shake the XWF in his second year and after losing his Television Title just two months ago at Leap of Faith. Thunder Knuckles vows on his return to once again wield the title in the most stacked division in XWF. Here, at his Relentless return could be a crucial make or break point in his story, his latest challenge against the current Television and one half Tag Team Champion, Chronic Chris Page. Who refuses to give up could put the Ultimate spin on Thunder Knuckles's career.





**Monster**



Disclaimer: the music chosen for this portion of the promo was inserted by Jimmy post edit, under heavy protest by Thunder Knuckles, himself. Who thinks this song and this band fucking suck.


Thunder Knuckles and Jimmy are walking into the Halloween Spirit store. Located at 422 S Lake Ave, in Pasadena, California.


Why are we here Thunder Knuckles?


Thunder Knuckles pats Jimmy on the shoulder and smiles.


Jimmy, we’re here to show XWF fans around the world how serious ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles is.

What do you mean? Should I even ask?


Jimmy puts his head down and shakes his head.


Well, you see, Jimmy. When you want to show how serious you are in the rasslin’ business you have to become some kinda monster to do it. So we’re here to figure out what kinda monster I should be.


Jimmy Rolls his eyes.


Isn’t this what Chris Page is doing?

Yeah, but I'm not high, right now. This is genius-level shit.

If you say so.


Thunder Knuckles and Jimmy split up and begin to search for what they think would be best to show how serious Thunder Knuckles is about beating Chronic Chris Page at Super Relentless. They eventually meet back up beside the changing rooms to show off their hauls. Thunder Knuckles of course goes first.


Alright, BAM! Skeleton King, eh? What do you think? I don’t know if it's a good idea though. You can snap a skeleton's bones pretty easily.

You know you're not actually a skeleton king when you wear that, right?


Jimmy only asks that question because he isn't sure If Thunder Knuckles believes he actually becomes the outfit.


Yeah, I would be.


Thunder Knuckles looks irritated at Jimmy as if he doesn’t understand the thought process of becoming a true monster.


Well, what the fuck do you got?


Jimmy pulls out a clown costume. Thunder Knuckles smiles.


As true as it is, I'm looking for something scary.

Pennywise is pretty scary, Thunder Knuckles.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs off Pennywise.


Nah, How about this.



Thunder Knuckles pulls out a knights templar costume.


Remember the last time you fought for Christ?


Thunder Knuckles tosses the Knights Templar costume over his right shoulder.


I think I have it Thunder Knuckles.


Jimmy pulls out facial prosthetics to make the wearer look like a beast.


The fuck is this?

It’s prosthetics. We can buy a few to make sure we get it right. Just need some makeup and you'll be a fucking monster Thunder Knuckles! We'll have to get some red-ish contacts, a leather jack with spikes, and one of those hipster fedoras. That'll really cap this look off, I think.


Jimmy says sarcastically but Thunder Knuckles eats it up. An awkward cut is made here where we go from inside the store to later, in Thunder Knuckles’s hotel room. The camera is outside the bathroom door as Jimmy and Thunder Knuckles are applying the finishing touches on the facial prosthetics, makeup, and all.





**PREACH**



[Image: 5ko5Xg5.png]



Thunder Knuckles in an undisclosed location. Thunder Knuckles is in full prosthetics, a sweet leather jacket with spikes, and a hipster fedora. Jimmy is not with him. Only a Cameraman and Thunder Knuckles are at one of BOB's secret safe houses, which are scattered throughout the United States.

You're not the only mother fucker who can visit a costume shop, Page. Now I'm a fucking beast too. Yeah, bitch, what now? BOB has taught me a lot about evening the playing field. That's why I chose to help them with their criminal work. Know how criminals clean dirty money kids? I do!


Thunder Knuckles smiles and begins humming.


Still fucking can't stop humming my new favorite song. Let me hit you with it.


Thunder Knuckles begins to poorly sing.


Look at me, I'm CCP, lousy with winning. Won't get a win without my best friend, I can't, I'm CCP.


Thunder Knuckles stops singing.


Fucking greatness! Seriously! Call the number and get your Chronic Chris Page: Greatest Hit's album.


Thunder Knuckles winks into the camera smiling but his smile slowly fades. He's recalling what Jimmy had told him earlier in the day while they were making a monster.


Overrated. That's what Jimmy said you called 'Ol Thunder Knuckles.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs.


Isn't it funny, Chris?


Thunder Knuckles starts to point his finger and wagging it at the camera.


Isn't it fucking funny that the one thing everyone says about you, and I'm mean ever fucking body, is the one thing you're reaching for? You see unlike you, I already had a plan going in. You always say the same shit time in and time fucking out. That's overrated. Me, I keep it fresh. I'm a lot like a Goddamn refrigerator in that respect, I guess. I could have hit you with the same tried shit I did last time. Just like you're trying now. It didn't work then when you fighting for the title. It's not going to work now that you have it, dumbass. You bring nothing bigger or better anytime you come out. It's always just the same constant Chris Page. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. No one wants to see that. No one wants to pay hard-earned money to watch it. That's why it's taken you, til now, just to win the mother fucking belt. That's why I can't allow you to keep it. I fought too hard to keep Savage the dominant brand for entertainment after Noah Jackson lost the Television Title. It's no easy feat! Don't take my fucking word for it. Look at what Duke did to the title! Running your standard, boring, snoozefest of matches is going to cause people to tune the fuck out. 'Ol Thunder Knuckles is next level shit and the fans know.


Speaking of fucking which. Let's fucking talk about ratings. Two-point-five. That's how many more views I get than you, Chris. Why in God's fucking name would any company want a champion who doesn't pull in fucking views? You're not in the fucking Bush Leagues, Page! You're in XWF! The land of the fucking Xtreme!


Thunder Knuckles shakes his head in disapproval.


You feel pretty fucking comfortable making this match a Pure Rule's match. I know you do but don't fucking expect the outcome to change because you stacked it in your favor. I don't plan on letting you walk out of the Rose Bowl with your title or let alone your fucking hair. You stole my belt now I'm going to steal your lively hood, your identity, and your belt.


Thunder Knuckles brushes the back of his hand on his sweet mullet. His hair gently caresses the back of his hand and falls perfectly back into place. A beast's hair has never looked this good.


This shit ain't going nowhere, pal. I did like your recorded promo for Thadeus Duke, however. You know what I'm talking about, Page. You dropped in the Super Relentless Pay-Per-View poster.


Thunder Knuckles starts cheesing so hard you can see it through all the prosthetics.


Always nice to star in a Chris Page promo making it relevant. What you can't put yourself over without my help Page? I mean, you or your puppeteer had something to say about me in almost every one of your promos. It looked like you used the XWF censored version of the poster, in your promo, though. I'll tell you what. Because I like to think you're really gonna need a souvenir from Relentless after I take back the Television Title. Here's the unedited poster just for you.


[Image: 5611.jpeg]



Now you bring that back after Relentless and I'll sign it for you. Right above where it says, XWF MEGASTAR.

People seem to think I have to find a crack in your armor, Page. What they fucking don't seem to see is the wide-open holes you have around your breastplate. I'm going to sink my claws into those holes and slowly pull out your fucking lungs. It's been a while since I've said this, but it's no less true now than it was then. Fucking with 'Ol Thunder Knuckles is like fucking with the Ohio turnpike. You're going to have to pay the fucking toll.


Thunder Knuckles quickly remembers what he saw on day one of Relentless.


Saw your match with Thadeous Duke. Couldn't get the job done in a pure wrestling match on night one.


Thunder Knuckles's eyes looking disappointed in Chris Page.


Fucking boo on you, Sir, boo on you! Walking around for fucking what seems like forever calling yourself the fucking greatest wrestler ever, and you go and shit the bed like that? Give me a fucking break. I understand though.


Thunder Knuckles, who you can just tell is smiling through all those prosthetics.


I get it. I do. A man in your position. Rassling around with a man you wanna touch the nuts of, then when you finally do. Your fucking walnut brained lover gets all jealous and strong. Comes out and pummels poor Duke. All because you got what you wanted. You got to half-heartedly try to get away from the kiss you were obviously fucking dying for. Yet, you couldn't let Main think you were cheating on purpose. Don't try and play it off, we all know you've been eyeing Thadeous Duke up for a minute. Hey, it's 2020 baby, it's okay. Not for me, but okay, none the fucking less. Then we get to part two! The one that really sent your lover into a fit of fucking rage. You touched Thaddeus Duke's nuts! Is what you two did to Duke still a hate crime, or, a crime of passion? Fuck it, who cares?

While you were busy not winning on night one, the mark of fucking failure. I was busy celebrating a spectacular win. Showcasing your latest promo against me. I have to thank Todd for giving me that early access footage. Oh, and your welcome XWF fans I saved you some time.


Thunder Knuckles knows XWF fans are eager to hear his opinion on the Tag Team Title match.


Night two you have The Sisterhood of Besties, the team of Ruby and little Miss Centurion. I'd like to say I'd watch it. I'd be fucking lying if I said I would and seeing as that's kinda your fucking thing. I'll leave that up to you.


Thunder Knuckles still not trying to talk about this match. Protesting physically he raises his right arm, flings it out as if to dismiss it entirely.


Oh, come the fuck on, why would I watch it? Ruby's fucking superhero antics are only so entertaining. She can't possibly carry three fucking duds for that long. Just no fucking way.


Thunder Knuckles walks closer to the cameraman and pulls out a gun then shoots the cameraman in cold blood. The camera hit the ground hard and your screen is messed up. The only thing that could be heard is Thunder Knuckles's calm voice, over the gargles of the cameraman gasping for his last breaths. Showing Chris Page what a true monster does.


I fucking release you of the Television Title, Page. It'll all be over soon. Johnny Legend, you're next.


The camera suddenly switches off, ending the recorded promo.
]]>



**Five times Thunder Knuckles shook the XWF Universe.**
A BOB Production
Narrated by Liev Schreiber



With ten titles in the XWF. Yet still, flourishing throughout the ranks proves to be as difficult as ever to become one of Xtreme Wrestling Federations champions.


Clips of the current Champions being crowned play on your screen.


March Madness: March 29th, 2019 Said:
Winners AND NEW XWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS - CHRIS PAGE & ROBERT MAIN “CATACLYSM"

Leap of Faith: July 27th, 202 Said:
YOUR WINNER AND NEW XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: SARAH LACKLAN


YOUR WINNER AND NEW XWF XTREME CHAMPION:
ROBERT "THE OMEGA" MAIN


YOUR WINNER AND NEW XWF HART CHAMPION:
PASHA


Savage: August 29th, 2020 Said:
WINNER AND NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION: "CHRONIC" CHRIS PAGE


Anarchy: September 10th, 2020 Said:
Winner by Pinfall and NEW Anarchy Champion - Miss Fury


(09-11-2020, 08:29 AM)Theo Pryce declaring a Federweight Champion Said: WINNER - THE FREAK

Savage: September 12th, 2020 Said:
WINNER AND NEW SHOOTING STAR CHAMPION - JENNY MYST!


Relentless Night One: September 25th 2020 Said:
YOUR WINNER AND NEW HEAVY METALWEIGHT CHAMPION:
CHARLIE NICKLES



YOUR WINNER AND NEW INTERNET CHAMPION:
MEFISTO







While the attention revolves around the Universal Championship. The toughest of them all remains the stacked Television division, dominated by XWF’s pound for pound kings.


Highlights of the three stages of hell match between Thunder Knuckles and Chronic Chris Page play on your screen where you see Chris Page score the first pinfall then Thunder Knuckles score the second.

The division in which Thunder Knuckles’ Television Title journey restarts at Super Relentless, against one of his toughest opponents, Chronic Chris Page. Page who has been, for what feels like a decade, in amongst the divisions very best.


Clips of CCP vs. Lux play on your screen before the inevitable meltdown.


Even now, Chris Page enters the match as the odds on favorite. Stacking the deck for himself he made the match stipulation of a Pure Rules Wrestling match where the loser gets his head shaved. However, here we take a look at five special moments of Thunder Knuckles’s career. That shows exactly why he was the hottest most dangerous prospect around, and why come Super Relentless September 27, 2020, XWF fans are in for a treat. This is “Five times Thunder Knuckles shook the XWF Universe''.


Your television screen shows a graphic for the program. Followed by Thunder Knuckles making his debut.


First up, one year ago Thunder Knuckles made his debut in the Man Overboard Battle Royale, at Relentless 2019. Where he made a huge statement eliminating BigD for a chance at his choice of titles, either the Hart or Television titles. From that moment the wrestling world would become more and more familiar with the Lima Ohio wrestler. Not long after winning Thunder Knuckles went on to shake the XWF Universe, and fans alike, again.


Your screen now shows Thunder Knuckles eliminating BigD and then celebrating.


Which brings us to number two on the list. When Thunder Knuckles sold his opportunity at one of the two respected titles that he had won at the aforementioned Man Overboard Battle Royale. Selling it to none other than the man he eliminated to secure the prize, BigD, for ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND xbux. No one has been so brazen since.

Now on your screen is showing Thunder Knuckles accepting BigD's xbux. Your screen seamlessly fades into a commercial.


You're about to hear one of the greatest music collections of all time! Some of the biggest hits from XWF's Greatest Wrestler Ever, Chronic Chris Page.


Your screen shows the album cover.


[Image: Ac7zCAN.png]



Slowly song titles scroll from bottom to top while playing samples of the music, such titles as:


Hetero Lifemate [LGBT Techo]

Graves your next feat. the Bump Back Boys [Hardrock]

Canadian Title Television Title [Comedy]


So many wonderful moments. It's hard to believe they are all in one collection!


Again the screen scrolls from bottom to top more classics such as:


It's on HBO [Emo]

Best Pure Wrestler feat. Robert Main [Love Song Duet]

Sit Back And Take Notes [Country]

Look At Me, I'm CCP [in the tune of "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee"]


Chronic Chris Page's Greatest Hits CD is not sold in any store. This beautiful collection is only available for a limited time. Also available on cassette. One easy payment of $29.99 or 10 xbux plus taxes and fees. Allow $40.00 or 15 xbux for Shipping and Handling. To order call 330-366-6066 again that's 330-366-6066.


[Image: 20200925_040658.gif]



Upon the shows return you see Thunder Knuckles making it rain with xbux.


Moving forward to number three on the list. Taking a new approach to making xbux, Thunder Knuckles sold out his teammate in the Lethal Lottery Tag Team tournament on November 2nd, 2019. Costing Sebastian Duke his advancement in the tournament. Thus proving that Thunder Knuckles is here for one thing, and one thing only, xbux.


Your screen shows a shadowy figure handing Thunder Knuckles xbux to take a dive in the Lethal Lottery tournament.


Fast forward eight months, with his moniker still intact. Thunder Knuckles shook the XWF fans once again for number four on the list. Thunder Knuckles was approached with a large sum of xbux, over three hundred thousand xbux. Which would have been his largest payday to date. Instead, He rejects the offer and secured a Team Main win at the War Games Pay-Per-View, on May 31st, 2019. Making a statement with three bone-chilling recorded promos and making it to the Main Event.


A highlight of War Games plays on your screen. Showing as Thunder Knuckles stands up from an already laying down position, to carry Robert Main and Chris Page to victory.


Number five on the list is sure to delight XWF fans around the world. Coming off a loss to Hanari Carnes and being eliminated from the March Madness tournament. That loss turned out to be a blessing in disguise because at the March Madness Pay-Per-View Thunder Knuckles received a shot at the Television Title, against one of the best Television Champions ever, Noah Jackson. Where Thunder Knuckles showed no mercy for someone he looks at as a friend.


Your screen is showing the several knees Thunder Knuckles delivered to his friend Noah Jackson in route to winning the Television Title.


With more time to shake the XWF in his second year and after losing his Television Title just two months ago at Leap of Faith. Thunder Knuckles vows on his return to once again wield the title in the most stacked division in XWF. Here, at his Relentless return could be a crucial make or break point in his story, his latest challenge against the current Television and one half Tag Team Champion, Chronic Chris Page. Who refuses to give up could put the Ultimate spin on Thunder Knuckles's career.





**Monster**



Disclaimer: the music chosen for this portion of the promo was inserted by Jimmy post edit, under heavy protest by Thunder Knuckles, himself. Who thinks this song and this band fucking suck.


Thunder Knuckles and Jimmy are walking into the Halloween Spirit store. Located at 422 S Lake Ave, in Pasadena, California.


Why are we here Thunder Knuckles?


Thunder Knuckles pats Jimmy on the shoulder and smiles.


Jimmy, we’re here to show XWF fans around the world how serious ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles is.

What do you mean? Should I even ask?


Jimmy puts his head down and shakes his head.


Well, you see, Jimmy. When you want to show how serious you are in the rasslin’ business you have to become some kinda monster to do it. So we’re here to figure out what kinda monster I should be.


Jimmy Rolls his eyes.


Isn’t this what Chris Page is doing?

Yeah, but I'm not high, right now. This is genius-level shit.

If you say so.


Thunder Knuckles and Jimmy split up and begin to search for what they think would be best to show how serious Thunder Knuckles is about beating Chronic Chris Page at Super Relentless. They eventually meet back up beside the changing rooms to show off their hauls. Thunder Knuckles of course goes first.


Alright, BAM! Skeleton King, eh? What do you think? I don’t know if it's a good idea though. You can snap a skeleton's bones pretty easily.

You know you're not actually a skeleton king when you wear that, right?


Jimmy only asks that question because he isn't sure If Thunder Knuckles believes he actually becomes the outfit.


Yeah, I would be.


Thunder Knuckles looks irritated at Jimmy as if he doesn’t understand the thought process of becoming a true monster.


Well, what the fuck do you got?


Jimmy pulls out a clown costume. Thunder Knuckles smiles.


As true as it is, I'm looking for something scary.

Pennywise is pretty scary, Thunder Knuckles.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs off Pennywise.


Nah, How about this.



Thunder Knuckles pulls out a knights templar costume.


Remember the last time you fought for Christ?


Thunder Knuckles tosses the Knights Templar costume over his right shoulder.


I think I have it Thunder Knuckles.


Jimmy pulls out facial prosthetics to make the wearer look like a beast.


The fuck is this?

It’s prosthetics. We can buy a few to make sure we get it right. Just need some makeup and you'll be a fucking monster Thunder Knuckles! We'll have to get some red-ish contacts, a leather jack with spikes, and one of those hipster fedoras. That'll really cap this look off, I think.


Jimmy says sarcastically but Thunder Knuckles eats it up. An awkward cut is made here where we go from inside the store to later, in Thunder Knuckles’s hotel room. The camera is outside the bathroom door as Jimmy and Thunder Knuckles are applying the finishing touches on the facial prosthetics, makeup, and all.





**PREACH**



[Image: 5ko5Xg5.png]



Thunder Knuckles in an undisclosed location. Thunder Knuckles is in full prosthetics, a sweet leather jacket with spikes, and a hipster fedora. Jimmy is not with him. Only a Cameraman and Thunder Knuckles are at one of BOB's secret safe houses, which are scattered throughout the United States.

You're not the only mother fucker who can visit a costume shop, Page. Now I'm a fucking beast too. Yeah, bitch, what now? BOB has taught me a lot about evening the playing field. That's why I chose to help them with their criminal work. Know how criminals clean dirty money kids? I do!


Thunder Knuckles smiles and begins humming.


Still fucking can't stop humming my new favorite song. Let me hit you with it.


Thunder Knuckles begins to poorly sing.


Look at me, I'm CCP, lousy with winning. Won't get a win without my best friend, I can't, I'm CCP.


Thunder Knuckles stops singing.


Fucking greatness! Seriously! Call the number and get your Chronic Chris Page: Greatest Hit's album.


Thunder Knuckles winks into the camera smiling but his smile slowly fades. He's recalling what Jimmy had told him earlier in the day while they were making a monster.


Overrated. That's what Jimmy said you called 'Ol Thunder Knuckles.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs.


Isn't it funny, Chris?


Thunder Knuckles starts to point his finger and wagging it at the camera.


Isn't it fucking funny that the one thing everyone says about you, and I'm mean ever fucking body, is the one thing you're reaching for? You see unlike you, I already had a plan going in. You always say the same shit time in and time fucking out. That's overrated. Me, I keep it fresh. I'm a lot like a Goddamn refrigerator in that respect, I guess. I could have hit you with the same tried shit I did last time. Just like you're trying now. It didn't work then when you fighting for the title. It's not going to work now that you have it, dumbass. You bring nothing bigger or better anytime you come out. It's always just the same constant Chris Page. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. No one wants to see that. No one wants to pay hard-earned money to watch it. That's why it's taken you, til now, just to win the mother fucking belt. That's why I can't allow you to keep it. I fought too hard to keep Savage the dominant brand for entertainment after Noah Jackson lost the Television Title. It's no easy feat! Don't take my fucking word for it. Look at what Duke did to the title! Running your standard, boring, snoozefest of matches is going to cause people to tune the fuck out. 'Ol Thunder Knuckles is next level shit and the fans know.


Speaking of fucking which. Let's fucking talk about ratings. Two-point-five. That's how many more views I get than you, Chris. Why in God's fucking name would any company want a champion who doesn't pull in fucking views? You're not in the fucking Bush Leagues, Page! You're in XWF! The land of the fucking Xtreme!


Thunder Knuckles shakes his head in disapproval.


You feel pretty fucking comfortable making this match a Pure Rule's match. I know you do but don't fucking expect the outcome to change because you stacked it in your favor. I don't plan on letting you walk out of the Rose Bowl with your title or let alone your fucking hair. You stole my belt now I'm going to steal your lively hood, your identity, and your belt.


Thunder Knuckles brushes the back of his hand on his sweet mullet. His hair gently caresses the back of his hand and falls perfectly back into place. A beast's hair has never looked this good.


This shit ain't going nowhere, pal. I did like your recorded promo for Thadeus Duke, however. You know what I'm talking about, Page. You dropped in the Super Relentless Pay-Per-View poster.


Thunder Knuckles starts cheesing so hard you can see it through all the prosthetics.


Always nice to star in a Chris Page promo making it relevant. What you can't put yourself over without my help Page? I mean, you or your puppeteer had something to say about me in almost every one of your promos. It looked like you used the XWF censored version of the poster, in your promo, though. I'll tell you what. Because I like to think you're really gonna need a souvenir from Relentless after I take back the Television Title. Here's the unedited poster just for you.


[Image: 5611.jpeg]



Now you bring that back after Relentless and I'll sign it for you. Right above where it says, XWF MEGASTAR.

People seem to think I have to find a crack in your armor, Page. What they fucking don't seem to see is the wide-open holes you have around your breastplate. I'm going to sink my claws into those holes and slowly pull out your fucking lungs. It's been a while since I've said this, but it's no less true now than it was then. Fucking with 'Ol Thunder Knuckles is like fucking with the Ohio turnpike. You're going to have to pay the fucking toll.


Thunder Knuckles quickly remembers what he saw on day one of Relentless.


Saw your match with Thadeous Duke. Couldn't get the job done in a pure wrestling match on night one.


Thunder Knuckles's eyes looking disappointed in Chris Page.


Fucking boo on you, Sir, boo on you! Walking around for fucking what seems like forever calling yourself the fucking greatest wrestler ever, and you go and shit the bed like that? Give me a fucking break. I understand though.


Thunder Knuckles, who you can just tell is smiling through all those prosthetics.


I get it. I do. A man in your position. Rassling around with a man you wanna touch the nuts of, then when you finally do. Your fucking walnut brained lover gets all jealous and strong. Comes out and pummels poor Duke. All because you got what you wanted. You got to half-heartedly try to get away from the kiss you were obviously fucking dying for. Yet, you couldn't let Main think you were cheating on purpose. Don't try and play it off, we all know you've been eyeing Thadeous Duke up for a minute. Hey, it's 2020 baby, it's okay. Not for me, but okay, none the fucking less. Then we get to part two! The one that really sent your lover into a fit of fucking rage. You touched Thaddeus Duke's nuts! Is what you two did to Duke still a hate crime, or, a crime of passion? Fuck it, who cares?

While you were busy not winning on night one, the mark of fucking failure. I was busy celebrating a spectacular win. Showcasing your latest promo against me. I have to thank Todd for giving me that early access footage. Oh, and your welcome XWF fans I saved you some time.


Thunder Knuckles knows XWF fans are eager to hear his opinion on the Tag Team Title match.


Night two you have The Sisterhood of Besties, the team of Ruby and little Miss Centurion. I'd like to say I'd watch it. I'd be fucking lying if I said I would and seeing as that's kinda your fucking thing. I'll leave that up to you.


Thunder Knuckles still not trying to talk about this match. Protesting physically he raises his right arm, flings it out as if to dismiss it entirely.


Oh, come the fuck on, why would I watch it? Ruby's fucking superhero antics are only so entertaining. She can't possibly carry three fucking duds for that long. Just no fucking way.


Thunder Knuckles walks closer to the cameraman and pulls out a gun then shoots the cameraman in cold blood. The camera hit the ground hard and your screen is messed up. The only thing that could be heard is Thunder Knuckles's calm voice, over the gargles of the cameraman gasping for his last breaths. Showing Chris Page what a true monster does.


I fucking release you of the Television Title, Page. It'll all be over soon. Johnny Legend, you're next.


The camera suddenly switches off, ending the recorded promo.
]]> <![CDATA[Rounding it out...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38329 Sat, 26 Sep 2020 06:15:23 -0700 Chris Page]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38329 Flash back:


We on the docks of Alcatraz under a dark sky with nothing but a half-moon and the stars above illuminating Alcatraz with the city of San Francisco off in the distance. The waves crashing on to the shores can be heard as we see Adam Barker and Chris Page standing on the end of the dock fishing. Chris whistles the theme to Andy Griffith while Adam is nervous to say the very least.


” What is going on Chris? One minute you’re the best friend I know and they next minute you’re transformed into this thing called the beas…..”


Chris abruptly cuts Adam off within midsentence.


” We don’t say his name.”


Chris turns his head towards his friend as he follows up in a calm demeanor.


” He’s locked away and he’s not coming back. Try to relax and enjoy this and let’s tie up a few loose ends.”


Chris turns his head back out towards the ocean as Adam states.


” What are you talking about?”


” I know.”


” You know? What?”


” I know why you picked now to come back into the picture.”


There’s a silence between the two before Adam states.


” I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


Chris hurls his fishing pole into the water as he turns and looks directly at Adam with fire in his eyes.


” Are we still pretending that you’re here to manage me, again? Is that still the play you’re trying to make? That’s your angle?”


Chris simply starts to shake his head from side to side out of sheer disgust.


” I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I had cancer, beat it, and came back, it’s not a difficult story to understand, and if anyone would understand I thought it would have been you. Collectively we’ve made millions and millions of dollars…”


Chris once again interrupts Adam.


” I’ve made us millions of dollars, and don’t you think for one second that I wasn’t hip then just like I am now… only now there’s proof and it’s pretty undeniable.”


Adam drops his fishing rod on the pier as he starts to become defensive while he takes a step back away from Chris.


” I don’t know what you think you know but whatever Robert told you is bogus. He’s been trying to drive a wedge between us since the moment I came back to pick up where WE ALL left off. “


There’s a sly smirk from Chris as he states.


” First and foremost stop being a pussy and relax, I’m not here to hurt you… even though I probably should... Secondly, stop using Robert as a front to try and hide your true motives because we’re past that and I know it’s a crock of shit.”


Chris intently glares at Adam as he continues.


” Can you just stop lying? If our friendship ever meant anything to you now’s the time to prove and just be honest, I deserve that.”


Adam looks at Chris, visually frustrated as he uses his left hand to scratch the back of his head before looking up at the stars in the skies. He lets out a deep sigh before lowering his head down and looking directly into the eyes of Chris Page while stating.


” I wish I knew what you are talking about…”


” Okay man, I tried.”


Chris reaches around to the left back pocket of his jeans where he retrieves a folded piece of paper. Adam relived it’s JUST a piece of paper all things considering. Chris unfolds the paper to its full size and hands it over to Adam. Adam starts to review the paper as Chris is heard.


” Oh all the people I never expected to be a sellout were you.”


Adam’s eyes widen as he reaches the mid-page.


” How did you get this?”


” I have sources, a better question that got answered was how much money it took to buy you off, and judging from that statement quarter of a million from Thaddeus and a quarter of a million from Thunder Knuckles. It’s in black and white… “


” This isn’t legitimate, this is fake… I haven’t taken any money from either one of them! Why would they pay me?! It’s not like I have insider information! What do I gain by selling you out?”


Chris crosses his arms across his chest as he listens to Adam to continue.


” I’m telling you I don’t know anything about this…”


” Ya know I thought after everything we’ve been through over the decades that you would have more respect for me as a person, but yet you continue to lie to my face. That’s YOUR bank record you’re looking at with two large deposits from two of my rivals. Robert and I are in a federation that is BEGGING for us to fail, and this entire time you’ve been funneling information to the enemies. I don’t know what to say to you man, this is disappointing and disheartening.”


Chris lightly shakes his head from side to side.


” Listen, I have my reasons and I know how this looks. I didn’t have a choice….”


Chris quickly interjects.


” You always have a choice… looks like you made yours.”


Chris turns his back to Adam before starting to walk up the pier towards the road that leads back up to Alcatraz, and as he walks away Adam can be heard shouting out at Chris.


” I’m sorry!”


As Chris continues to walk away an evil smirk starts to appear on his face. The scene fades.








WORDS FROM THE STONED ONE:




Jesus Christ this can’t get any easier. I didn’t think by trying to avenge a draw to Thunder Knuckles would be this easy… I mean dude, do you have any idea how lazy and pathetic you look by having other people talk for you when you’re walking into a match where a title is up for grabs? Not the smartest thing to do, then again you’re not the smartest guy either…


Oh, and for the record, Mr. Raven, last time we stood in the same ring I was busy eliminating you from War Games, stop fronting.


What you fail to come to any uncertain terms with revolves around how their views or opinions, skewed in whatever direction the political winds are blowing that day, of individuals that won’t be able to save you from the wrestling clinic I’m going to put on using your body as my canvass. Thunder Knuckles you have no idea just how bad I’m craving this encounter, how bad I’m salivating over putting you away and removing the asterisk beside our first encounter so you have absolutely nothing to hang your hat on.


Fuck me for doing a favor, am I right?!


This time there’s not any favors or anything from saving you from me taking away the only thing that matters with you… you’re mullet.


The fun and games surrounding you ended the moment you accepted my challenge and put pen to paper. Between you and Thad it’s your ass that I most looking forward to kicking this weekend. The time limit isn’t going to be in effect because we’re not going to see it; I refuse to allow you to escape with another “out” at my expense. You’re the biggest issue, other than shitting the bed in your previous attempt; you don’t know when to get serious. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you seem to think you’ve got it all figured out for when that bell rings and that stadium is jam-packed you’re going to come to the fast conclusion that while you’ve been playing checkers I’ve been playing chess and what you think you’ve figured out the reality is you haven’t even scratched the surface. Night Three of Relentless is going to be by far the easiest night of the weekend but also the night I’m eagerly anticipating the most to crush this notion that you even belong in the same fucking ring as me. Nobody needs a transcript of how we got here, that shit is sluggish when we all know you couldn’t beat me before Leap of Faith and you got owned by Thaddeus at Leap of Faith, and for a guy that loves to call someone fucking stupid aren’t you the same guy that called Thad the Collector AFTER HE MADE HIMSELF KNOWN! And I’m the idiot that spoke during a pin attempt. Jesus, it sucks to be you when your best shot revolves around such a trivial detail when you’ve done dumber shit just as recent as Leap of Faith.


And YAY you joined BoB!


You’ve officially joined the low ranking stable whose biggest claim to fame thus far is winning a string of matches on a third rate program. Way to go! I’m so proud of you! Here’s the thing though, here’s how you know BoB is destined for failure… you ready? Because you’re their heavy hitter! You couldn’t beat Thad, something that I’ve already done in very short order; according to Thad’s logic in that piss poor attempt to generate interest or make this match mean something more than it already does, according to that logic that makes me better than both of you. Strike two names off that fucking list. I digress, but yay for you for aligning yourself with nobodies that could wrestle their way out of a wet paper sack let alone pose people like me, people like Robert, people like Lacklan and kind of threat. It’s like Charlie versus Sarah; we all know Sarah is going to crush him just like Robert has already done. I mean it’s not your fault you’re set up for failure. I mean take yourself for example; you think your hip shit based off a title reign that lasted a good three months; having a total of five matches in ninety days, two draws and a loss occupy three of those slots; so really, how good are you? You’ve jumped on a sinking ship my good man and come Relentless you’re put in a no-win situation within a situation you can’t afford to lose. A loss here halts and kills any momentum you and your little cronies have managed to attain; kinda makes this worth more than your hair if you ask me. In one match I get to shave your head and piss all over BoB at the same time! I’m sold! I’m taking back my draw from you then I’m going to deal with Johnny Legend before moving forward to taking back my draw from Wizard…. And then I’m calling Graves Number, sorry you got pushed back for pressing issues. At the end of the day, you can fool yourself into thinking you’re entertaining, you can fool yourself into thinking you belong in this business and you can fool yourself into thinking that you're a threat to me and the Television Championship… but in the real world you’re nothing more than a knock off Danny McBride that isn’t clever enough to mask the fact he’s a second rate rip off. I see through you and I see you for what you are, a pathetic excuse for television.


Don’t you worry though, don’t you fret. Removing that mullet is going to do wonders for your career.


Every time you look in the mirror and you see that cue-ball staring back at you I want you to think of me, and think of how hard I’m laughing at you.


So please, continue to play this up however you like for the result hasn’t ever been in question because you’re going down faster than a virgin on prom night. I’m going to use every minute of those fifteen minutes that I allow you to have to punish you, to victimize you, and to make you my bitch before I put you down once and for all. Once I’m done, once I’ve beaten you in front of the world you can take your bald ass to the back of the fucking line where you truly belong. I mean let’s be fair, the only reason I challenged you was that draw; who are we kidding, had that not happened you wouldn’t be a blip on my fucking radar, coincidentally that’s exactly where you’re going the mere moment that final bell tolls and I am announced STILL XWF Television Champion. The next time you want to use other talents to cut your promo for you do yourself a favor and pick some names that I haven’t beaten. Raven, beat. Noah beat. Thaddeus, beat… do you see where this is going? Do better next time. You owe it to yourself.


And if you couldn’t be even more cliché you pop up and win a children’s game based on insinuations that Robert and I are gay for each other. Wow, like I haven’t heard that million times before. This is why you fail; you go to the same well and drink the same water as everyone else in this shithole we call the XWF. You all think hitting us with nonsense somehow makes it real, your minds want us to fuck so bad it makes me question which side of the fence you stand on, I could give two fucks but I don’t think I can say the same about you. Now the ball is in my court and we’re playing by my set of rules. Keep BoB at bay and let’s settle this once and for all, one on one, man to man…. I like my chances. You’ve got but one shot left to fire and for your sake it had better be a flawless one for on this scorecard you’re way behind and have A LOT of ground to cover if you want to get back into my rearview; honestly, I don’t think you can.


I’ll leave all of you with this one last sentiment before I leave.


Relentless 2020 is going to be defined by MY performances as I showcase exactly why I am one of the greatest of all time when it comes to lacing up a pair of wrestling boots. Many are asking about the tag title defense, don’t worry it’s covered….


“He” will be on hand to rip Centurion and Ruby apart.


Don’t say that I haven’t given any of you ample warning for what lies in front of you when you cross my path. I’m going to take back the ammunition that you’re putting in those guns bullet by bullet followed by victory after victory. The time to hesitate is through, as Jim Morrison would say, if you stand in my way I’m going to mow you the fuck down… and probably take your hair with me, who knows… this might become a thing. Ah who am I kidding; this ends with Thunder Knuckles because no one else is irresponsible enough to rock a mullet in this day and age… but then again we do live in strange times. The delusion that you’ll be holding on to two belts is nothing short of a pipe dream, but you keep doing whatever you need to do to fill that head of yours up, to build yourself up into thinking you’re going to leave the Orange Bowl with gold around your waist, it’s only going to make my victory that much sweeter.


See you soon, McBride… I mean Knuckles.


Hard to tell em’ apart, ya know?


Ah, it doesn’t matter, fuck off.


Liv Schreiber sucks too!]]> Flash back:


We on the docks of Alcatraz under a dark sky with nothing but a half-moon and the stars above illuminating Alcatraz with the city of San Francisco off in the distance. The waves crashing on to the shores can be heard as we see Adam Barker and Chris Page standing on the end of the dock fishing. Chris whistles the theme to Andy Griffith while Adam is nervous to say the very least.


” What is going on Chris? One minute you’re the best friend I know and they next minute you’re transformed into this thing called the beas…..”


Chris abruptly cuts Adam off within midsentence.


” We don’t say his name.”


Chris turns his head towards his friend as he follows up in a calm demeanor.


” He’s locked away and he’s not coming back. Try to relax and enjoy this and let’s tie up a few loose ends.”


Chris turns his head back out towards the ocean as Adam states.


” What are you talking about?”


” I know.”


” You know? What?”


” I know why you picked now to come back into the picture.”


There’s a silence between the two before Adam states.


” I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


Chris hurls his fishing pole into the water as he turns and looks directly at Adam with fire in his eyes.


” Are we still pretending that you’re here to manage me, again? Is that still the play you’re trying to make? That’s your angle?”


Chris simply starts to shake his head from side to side out of sheer disgust.


” I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I had cancer, beat it, and came back, it’s not a difficult story to understand, and if anyone would understand I thought it would have been you. Collectively we’ve made millions and millions of dollars…”


Chris once again interrupts Adam.


” I’ve made us millions of dollars, and don’t you think for one second that I wasn’t hip then just like I am now… only now there’s proof and it’s pretty undeniable.”


Adam drops his fishing rod on the pier as he starts to become defensive while he takes a step back away from Chris.


” I don’t know what you think you know but whatever Robert told you is bogus. He’s been trying to drive a wedge between us since the moment I came back to pick up where WE ALL left off. “


There’s a sly smirk from Chris as he states.


” First and foremost stop being a pussy and relax, I’m not here to hurt you… even though I probably should... Secondly, stop using Robert as a front to try and hide your true motives because we’re past that and I know it’s a crock of shit.”


Chris intently glares at Adam as he continues.


” Can you just stop lying? If our friendship ever meant anything to you now’s the time to prove and just be honest, I deserve that.”


Adam looks at Chris, visually frustrated as he uses his left hand to scratch the back of his head before looking up at the stars in the skies. He lets out a deep sigh before lowering his head down and looking directly into the eyes of Chris Page while stating.


” I wish I knew what you are talking about…”


” Okay man, I tried.”


Chris reaches around to the left back pocket of his jeans where he retrieves a folded piece of paper. Adam relived it’s JUST a piece of paper all things considering. Chris unfolds the paper to its full size and hands it over to Adam. Adam starts to review the paper as Chris is heard.


” Oh all the people I never expected to be a sellout were you.”


Adam’s eyes widen as he reaches the mid-page.


” How did you get this?”


” I have sources, a better question that got answered was how much money it took to buy you off, and judging from that statement quarter of a million from Thaddeus and a quarter of a million from Thunder Knuckles. It’s in black and white… “


” This isn’t legitimate, this is fake… I haven’t taken any money from either one of them! Why would they pay me?! It’s not like I have insider information! What do I gain by selling you out?”


Chris crosses his arms across his chest as he listens to Adam to continue.


” I’m telling you I don’t know anything about this…”


” Ya know I thought after everything we’ve been through over the decades that you would have more respect for me as a person, but yet you continue to lie to my face. That’s YOUR bank record you’re looking at with two large deposits from two of my rivals. Robert and I are in a federation that is BEGGING for us to fail, and this entire time you’ve been funneling information to the enemies. I don’t know what to say to you man, this is disappointing and disheartening.”


Chris lightly shakes his head from side to side.


” Listen, I have my reasons and I know how this looks. I didn’t have a choice….”


Chris quickly interjects.


” You always have a choice… looks like you made yours.”


Chris turns his back to Adam before starting to walk up the pier towards the road that leads back up to Alcatraz, and as he walks away Adam can be heard shouting out at Chris.


” I’m sorry!”


As Chris continues to walk away an evil smirk starts to appear on his face. The scene fades.








WORDS FROM THE STONED ONE:




Jesus Christ this can’t get any easier. I didn’t think by trying to avenge a draw to Thunder Knuckles would be this easy… I mean dude, do you have any idea how lazy and pathetic you look by having other people talk for you when you’re walking into a match where a title is up for grabs? Not the smartest thing to do, then again you’re not the smartest guy either…


Oh, and for the record, Mr. Raven, last time we stood in the same ring I was busy eliminating you from War Games, stop fronting.


What you fail to come to any uncertain terms with revolves around how their views or opinions, skewed in whatever direction the political winds are blowing that day, of individuals that won’t be able to save you from the wrestling clinic I’m going to put on using your body as my canvass. Thunder Knuckles you have no idea just how bad I’m craving this encounter, how bad I’m salivating over putting you away and removing the asterisk beside our first encounter so you have absolutely nothing to hang your hat on.


Fuck me for doing a favor, am I right?!


This time there’s not any favors or anything from saving you from me taking away the only thing that matters with you… you’re mullet.


The fun and games surrounding you ended the moment you accepted my challenge and put pen to paper. Between you and Thad it’s your ass that I most looking forward to kicking this weekend. The time limit isn’t going to be in effect because we’re not going to see it; I refuse to allow you to escape with another “out” at my expense. You’re the biggest issue, other than shitting the bed in your previous attempt; you don’t know when to get serious. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you seem to think you’ve got it all figured out for when that bell rings and that stadium is jam-packed you’re going to come to the fast conclusion that while you’ve been playing checkers I’ve been playing chess and what you think you’ve figured out the reality is you haven’t even scratched the surface. Night Three of Relentless is going to be by far the easiest night of the weekend but also the night I’m eagerly anticipating the most to crush this notion that you even belong in the same fucking ring as me. Nobody needs a transcript of how we got here, that shit is sluggish when we all know you couldn’t beat me before Leap of Faith and you got owned by Thaddeus at Leap of Faith, and for a guy that loves to call someone fucking stupid aren’t you the same guy that called Thad the Collector AFTER HE MADE HIMSELF KNOWN! And I’m the idiot that spoke during a pin attempt. Jesus, it sucks to be you when your best shot revolves around such a trivial detail when you’ve done dumber shit just as recent as Leap of Faith.


And YAY you joined BoB!


You’ve officially joined the low ranking stable whose biggest claim to fame thus far is winning a string of matches on a third rate program. Way to go! I’m so proud of you! Here’s the thing though, here’s how you know BoB is destined for failure… you ready? Because you’re their heavy hitter! You couldn’t beat Thad, something that I’ve already done in very short order; according to Thad’s logic in that piss poor attempt to generate interest or make this match mean something more than it already does, according to that logic that makes me better than both of you. Strike two names off that fucking list. I digress, but yay for you for aligning yourself with nobodies that could wrestle their way out of a wet paper sack let alone pose people like me, people like Robert, people like Lacklan and kind of threat. It’s like Charlie versus Sarah; we all know Sarah is going to crush him just like Robert has already done. I mean it’s not your fault you’re set up for failure. I mean take yourself for example; you think your hip shit based off a title reign that lasted a good three months; having a total of five matches in ninety days, two draws and a loss occupy three of those slots; so really, how good are you? You’ve jumped on a sinking ship my good man and come Relentless you’re put in a no-win situation within a situation you can’t afford to lose. A loss here halts and kills any momentum you and your little cronies have managed to attain; kinda makes this worth more than your hair if you ask me. In one match I get to shave your head and piss all over BoB at the same time! I’m sold! I’m taking back my draw from you then I’m going to deal with Johnny Legend before moving forward to taking back my draw from Wizard…. And then I’m calling Graves Number, sorry you got pushed back for pressing issues. At the end of the day, you can fool yourself into thinking you’re entertaining, you can fool yourself into thinking you belong in this business and you can fool yourself into thinking that you're a threat to me and the Television Championship… but in the real world you’re nothing more than a knock off Danny McBride that isn’t clever enough to mask the fact he’s a second rate rip off. I see through you and I see you for what you are, a pathetic excuse for television.


Don’t you worry though, don’t you fret. Removing that mullet is going to do wonders for your career.


Every time you look in the mirror and you see that cue-ball staring back at you I want you to think of me, and think of how hard I’m laughing at you.


So please, continue to play this up however you like for the result hasn’t ever been in question because you’re going down faster than a virgin on prom night. I’m going to use every minute of those fifteen minutes that I allow you to have to punish you, to victimize you, and to make you my bitch before I put you down once and for all. Once I’m done, once I’ve beaten you in front of the world you can take your bald ass to the back of the fucking line where you truly belong. I mean let’s be fair, the only reason I challenged you was that draw; who are we kidding, had that not happened you wouldn’t be a blip on my fucking radar, coincidentally that’s exactly where you’re going the mere moment that final bell tolls and I am announced STILL XWF Television Champion. The next time you want to use other talents to cut your promo for you do yourself a favor and pick some names that I haven’t beaten. Raven, beat. Noah beat. Thaddeus, beat… do you see where this is going? Do better next time. You owe it to yourself.


And if you couldn’t be even more cliché you pop up and win a children’s game based on insinuations that Robert and I are gay for each other. Wow, like I haven’t heard that million times before. This is why you fail; you go to the same well and drink the same water as everyone else in this shithole we call the XWF. You all think hitting us with nonsense somehow makes it real, your minds want us to fuck so bad it makes me question which side of the fence you stand on, I could give two fucks but I don’t think I can say the same about you. Now the ball is in my court and we’re playing by my set of rules. Keep BoB at bay and let’s settle this once and for all, one on one, man to man…. I like my chances. You’ve got but one shot left to fire and for your sake it had better be a flawless one for on this scorecard you’re way behind and have A LOT of ground to cover if you want to get back into my rearview; honestly, I don’t think you can.


I’ll leave all of you with this one last sentiment before I leave.


Relentless 2020 is going to be defined by MY performances as I showcase exactly why I am one of the greatest of all time when it comes to lacing up a pair of wrestling boots. Many are asking about the tag title defense, don’t worry it’s covered….


“He” will be on hand to rip Centurion and Ruby apart.


Don’t say that I haven’t given any of you ample warning for what lies in front of you when you cross my path. I’m going to take back the ammunition that you’re putting in those guns bullet by bullet followed by victory after victory. The time to hesitate is through, as Jim Morrison would say, if you stand in my way I’m going to mow you the fuck down… and probably take your hair with me, who knows… this might become a thing. Ah who am I kidding; this ends with Thunder Knuckles because no one else is irresponsible enough to rock a mullet in this day and age… but then again we do live in strange times. The delusion that you’ll be holding on to two belts is nothing short of a pipe dream, but you keep doing whatever you need to do to fill that head of yours up, to build yourself up into thinking you’re going to leave the Orange Bowl with gold around your waist, it’s only going to make my victory that much sweeter.


See you soon, McBride… I mean Knuckles.


Hard to tell em’ apart, ya know?


Ah, it doesn’t matter, fuck off.


Liv Schreiber sucks too!]]> <![CDATA[Hell Hath No Fury]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38318 Fri, 25 Sep 2020 18:21:00 -0700 Vita Frickin Valenteen]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38318 former best friend Jessica Hoyt, framed her for murder and cost her not only her freedom, but her contract in the XWF, but after admitting to the frame job on national TV, and the evidence of said crime mysteriously coming up missing (to keep Firy out of Jail) the prosecutor had no option but to release her.

Now the stage is set.

Two former friends will battle it out with Anarchy's top prize hanging in the balance. Can Vita Valenteen overcome the odds and the ring rust to avenge herself? Or will the dastardly Miss Fury continue to dominate a sport that she has no interest in?


The scene opens inside of the gym that Vita has converted into her home. We find her in the midst of training with some random dude, likely a local wrestler. They're looked in a standard collar and elbow, but Vita slips under the guys arm, pulling it up and twisting it awkwardly behind his back. The guy drops to a knee and cries out as Vita slips to the front and plants him with a DDT! She then transitions into the Rings of Saturn and rears back as he quickly taps to avoid injury! Vita releases the hold immediately upon hearing him tap. She then jumps to her feet and offers her hand to her sparring partner. He accepts and Vita helps him to his feet.

VV: "Thanks for the workout!" She says with an enthusiasm that's been missing from the XWF since her departure.

Local talent: "Hey no problem. It was a real crime, what that Miss Fury did to you."

VV: "Yeah, it literally was!"

The two laugh it off. It's telling that Vita can have a sense of humor about her situation with Fury considering all of the Hell that she's put her though.

VV: "So, do you think I have a shot?"

Local Talent: "A shot? I think if you go after her half as hard as you did me today, she won't stand a snowballs chance!"

His response brings a smile to her face that is accompanied by a slight giggle.

VV: "Thanks, but I think Miss Fury is going to be a much tougher challenge than you think."

The local dude looks confused by that statement.

Local Talent: "How, she doesn't even know how to wrestle!"

Vita’s chipper tone comes down a bit as she replies.

VV: "And yet she dethroned the most dominate champion that Anarchy has ever seen. A woman who was able to do what I couldn't and defeat Sarah Lacklan, not once, but twice!"

Local Talent: "Yeah, but she didn't BEAT her, she stole the championship with the help of her stable mates!"

VV: "True, and I'm sure those same baddies will be right there just itching to get involved in this match, but I'm ready for'em, so maybe that'll make the difference?"

Local Talent: "So you've lined up some backup?"

VV: "No…" She says as she exits the ring to grab her checkbook.

VV: "I've tried sinking to my enemies level before and fighting fire with fire is never a good strategy. No, I'll face her one on one, and if any of her BOBs get involved, I'll deal with them accordingly. She's only held that championship for a few weeks, and already it's been too long."

She hands the local guy a check for his services.

VV: "I'm going to bring honor and rule back to Anarchy!"


"Things haven't exactly gone my way in ages. I've been accused of horrible things, doubted when I pleaded my innocence, framed for murder, fired from my dream job, and astranged from my loved ones. Needless to say, 2020 has been rough, but isn't that true for pretty much all of us? We're in the middle of a worldwide pandemic. Plenty of people have suffered loss this year. Loss of jobs, loss of family members, loss of all security, but despite all of the various issues this year has dropped in our laps, we continue to push forth. Every day people are leaving the safety of their homes to venture back out into the world and do what needs to be done, whether that's going to their job, picking up groceries for an elderly neighbor, or just trying to bring a little happiness into an otherwise bleak world."

"So what kind of person would I be if I didn't do the same?"

"Miss Fury… Jessica, you almost did it. You almost reached your goal. When you framed me for murder and I was arrested, all of my friends abandoned me. All of them quick to believe that I was guilty. Even the XWF took steps to separate itself from me when they terminated my contract just days after my arrest."

"Believe you me, I was ready to give up, throw in the towel, but I didn't, and do you want to know why?"

"Because it was you…"

"There’s a long list of people that I've wronged over the course of my career. Sarah Lacklan watched as her neighbors house burned to the ground at the hands of a man who was working with me. I could understand her doing something like this, but you? And all because we had an argument over a year ago?"

"Frickin' seriously!?"

"I couldn't believe it! Still can't honestly. Like you said, we were like sisters, and yeah, I'll admit that I was in a bad headspace at the time, and everything that you said was true, but this is something you talk about Jess! I would have gladly apologized and begged for us to go back to how things were, but you didn't want that did you? No, because you this was never about our friendship or that argument. It was always about the fact that you've been jealous of me ever since I signed with the XWF! While you busted your butt studying and trying to make a better life, you saw what you perceived as me getting handed everything I had on a silver platter! What you failed to realize is that while you were buried in books furthering your education, I was in the ring doing that very same thing. For as hard as you worked for your dreams, I worked just as hard, maybe harder! Nothing has ever been handed to me here, I've had to fight and claw for every single thing I've gotten from this business, but you wouldn't know anything about that would you? No, because you have Micheal Graves and the rest of your cronies to do the work for you!"

"I fully expect for you to pull every dirty trick in the book to defeat me, but you know what? None of it is going to matter! Because come Relentless I'm going to show you true fury from a woman that has been scorned by her best friend, and I promise you Jess, I frickin promise, my wrath will be relentless!"]]> former best friend Jessica Hoyt, framed her for murder and cost her not only her freedom, but her contract in the XWF, but after admitting to the frame job on national TV, and the evidence of said crime mysteriously coming up missing (to keep Firy out of Jail) the prosecutor had no option but to release her.

Now the stage is set.

Two former friends will battle it out with Anarchy's top prize hanging in the balance. Can Vita Valenteen overcome the odds and the ring rust to avenge herself? Or will the dastardly Miss Fury continue to dominate a sport that she has no interest in?


The scene opens inside of the gym that Vita has converted into her home. We find her in the midst of training with some random dude, likely a local wrestler. They're looked in a standard collar and elbow, but Vita slips under the guys arm, pulling it up and twisting it awkwardly behind his back. The guy drops to a knee and cries out as Vita slips to the front and plants him with a DDT! She then transitions into the Rings of Saturn and rears back as he quickly taps to avoid injury! Vita releases the hold immediately upon hearing him tap. She then jumps to her feet and offers her hand to her sparring partner. He accepts and Vita helps him to his feet.

VV: "Thanks for the workout!" She says with an enthusiasm that's been missing from the XWF since her departure.

Local talent: "Hey no problem. It was a real crime, what that Miss Fury did to you."

VV: "Yeah, it literally was!"

The two laugh it off. It's telling that Vita can have a sense of humor about her situation with Fury considering all of the Hell that she's put her though.

VV: "So, do you think I have a shot?"

Local Talent: "A shot? I think if you go after her half as hard as you did me today, she won't stand a snowballs chance!"

His response brings a smile to her face that is accompanied by a slight giggle.

VV: "Thanks, but I think Miss Fury is going to be a much tougher challenge than you think."

The local dude looks confused by that statement.

Local Talent: "How, she doesn't even know how to wrestle!"

Vita’s chipper tone comes down a bit as she replies.

VV: "And yet she dethroned the most dominate champion that Anarchy has ever seen. A woman who was able to do what I couldn't and defeat Sarah Lacklan, not once, but twice!"

Local Talent: "Yeah, but she didn't BEAT her, she stole the championship with the help of her stable mates!"

VV: "True, and I'm sure those same baddies will be right there just itching to get involved in this match, but I'm ready for'em, so maybe that'll make the difference?"

Local Talent: "So you've lined up some backup?"

VV: "No…" She says as she exits the ring to grab her checkbook.

VV: "I've tried sinking to my enemies level before and fighting fire with fire is never a good strategy. No, I'll face her one on one, and if any of her BOBs get involved, I'll deal with them accordingly. She's only held that championship for a few weeks, and already it's been too long."

She hands the local guy a check for his services.

VV: "I'm going to bring honor and rule back to Anarchy!"


"Things haven't exactly gone my way in ages. I've been accused of horrible things, doubted when I pleaded my innocence, framed for murder, fired from my dream job, and astranged from my loved ones. Needless to say, 2020 has been rough, but isn't that true for pretty much all of us? We're in the middle of a worldwide pandemic. Plenty of people have suffered loss this year. Loss of jobs, loss of family members, loss of all security, but despite all of the various issues this year has dropped in our laps, we continue to push forth. Every day people are leaving the safety of their homes to venture back out into the world and do what needs to be done, whether that's going to their job, picking up groceries for an elderly neighbor, or just trying to bring a little happiness into an otherwise bleak world."

"So what kind of person would I be if I didn't do the same?"

"Miss Fury… Jessica, you almost did it. You almost reached your goal. When you framed me for murder and I was arrested, all of my friends abandoned me. All of them quick to believe that I was guilty. Even the XWF took steps to separate itself from me when they terminated my contract just days after my arrest."

"Believe you me, I was ready to give up, throw in the towel, but I didn't, and do you want to know why?"

"Because it was you…"

"There’s a long list of people that I've wronged over the course of my career. Sarah Lacklan watched as her neighbors house burned to the ground at the hands of a man who was working with me. I could understand her doing something like this, but you? And all because we had an argument over a year ago?"

"Frickin' seriously!?"

"I couldn't believe it! Still can't honestly. Like you said, we were like sisters, and yeah, I'll admit that I was in a bad headspace at the time, and everything that you said was true, but this is something you talk about Jess! I would have gladly apologized and begged for us to go back to how things were, but you didn't want that did you? No, because you this was never about our friendship or that argument. It was always about the fact that you've been jealous of me ever since I signed with the XWF! While you busted your butt studying and trying to make a better life, you saw what you perceived as me getting handed everything I had on a silver platter! What you failed to realize is that while you were buried in books furthering your education, I was in the ring doing that very same thing. For as hard as you worked for your dreams, I worked just as hard, maybe harder! Nothing has ever been handed to me here, I've had to fight and claw for every single thing I've gotten from this business, but you wouldn't know anything about that would you? No, because you have Micheal Graves and the rest of your cronies to do the work for you!"

"I fully expect for you to pull every dirty trick in the book to defeat me, but you know what? None of it is going to matter! Because come Relentless I'm going to show you true fury from a woman that has been scorned by her best friend, and I promise you Jess, I frickin promise, my wrath will be relentless!"]]> <![CDATA[The Puppet Show]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38306 Fri, 25 Sep 2020 06:46:25 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38306 Grainy video footage from a long forgotten clip plays on the screen.


Jean Paul-Lacklan Said:We find ourselves in what appears to be the room of a child. The room is dominantly pink: The walls are pink, though the accompanying carpet is a pearly white, with the raised ceiling painted to be the sky and stars above. The room features a small desk and chair, white with carnation trim, with a dresser and large toy box similarly dressed, and a small bed, pink with white trim. And, to fit the room nicely, there is a small child sitting upon the white floor, a doll in her hand.

The child is pretty, barely more than two years old, with straight black hair falling to her shoulders, though there is a bit of curl at the very ends. Her eyes are blue, a very bright and deep blue, with fair skin that shows a hint of pink in the cheeks. She is wearing a pink dress with a copious amount of white lace, and a small pair of pink bunny slippers. The doll in her hand is odd, though: It is female, as is to be expected, but everything else is a departure from the norm. The hair on the doll is jet black and there are small silver flecks upon the dolls face, placed as if they were piercings. The doll is dressed in a white robe, made of silk, that falls past her legs.

Regardless of the doll's odd appearance, it is obviously more than enough to keep her happy. She moves the doll back and forth, bouncing her on her knees as if dancing, a song coming from the child.

"I love my Mommy..." Her voice is soft and high-pitched, the words coming out rather well-formed for a toddler. "My Mommy is the best Mommy in the world..."

She plays with her doll, her song for her and her doll alone, even as the man in black enters the room.

Jean-Paul Lacklan is as how we are accustomed to seeing him. He wears his robe, the long black tresses falling to the pearly-white carpet, his hands before him, though they are covered by the far too big sleeves which droop almost to his knees. His cowl is down, though, pulled back away from his face, his scarred head almost blending in with the overbearing pink in the room. He stops a few steps from the child, who looks up at him.

"Daddy!"

The child smiles as she gazes up at the man in black. Although the alabaster mask covers the majority of Lacklan's face, we see the edges of his lips curl into a smile. And not even the half-smirk we are accustomed to seeing upon the madman's face; this is a full-on smile.

"Hello, Sarah." Lacklan cocks his head to the side a bit. "What is it that you are doing?"

The child looks back to her doll.

"Playing with Mommy."

Unseen by the toddler, Lacklan's smile falters, his eyes falling to the doll. Lacklan lowers himself to his knees, positioning himself behind Sarah, and gently brings the child to him.

"You must never let her go, child, do you understand?" Sarah looks at him without responding, but Lacklan goes on, taking one gloved hand to run his fingers through her hair. "She was beautiful, intelligent, caring. You look so much like her..."

Lacklan grows silent as he looks at his daughter, and at the doll. Sarah snuggles closer to her father. She may be a child, barely older than two, but like most children, she knows more than the grown-ups think. Lacklan holds her tighter, until they are interrupted a moment later.

"Mm-mm"

Lacklan looks to the doorway to see the issuer of the throat-clearing. Said issuer is a woman, her face a few years shy of 30, whose make-up is rather striking and odd. She, befitting the room and child, wears a pinks blouse which features a very high neck, almost up to her chin, and a black skirt that falls to her ankles, with feet enwrapped in high heels. She carries a clipboard, held close to the chest, full of papers.

Lacklan looks at her for several seconds then, with a nod, turns his gaze back to his daughter.

"Work?" the child asks, before he could say anything, which causes the smile to creep from behind the mask again.

"Yes, child. The work of the Savior is never finished. Play with Mommy nicely."

"Yes, Daddy."

Lacklan rises to his feet and leaves the room, the woman following closely behind, leaving the child to go back to playing with her doll.

"I love my Mommy...my Mommy is the best Mommy in the world..."


[Image: ZNhX8v0.jpg]

The screen comes back to life. We see a conventional wrestling table flipped over onto it’s side, laying the wrong way with it's legs extended for support. Behind the table all we see is well-lit darkness. We hear Charlie speak in a high-pitched ‘feminine’ voice as a tattered doll pops up above the table. The doll’s face appears slightly burnt in some areas and flattened in others. What little hair the doll has left is jet black. A torn silk robe with slight stainage atop it’s milky fabric covers the doll’s raggedy body.

“Sarah, it’s mommy. It’s your mommy, Sarah.”

A few snickers are heard from Charlie’s side of the table.

“I love you Sarah. You’re the best Sarah in the world.”

The tone shifts towards a more aggressive inflection.

“But you were supposed to protect mommy. Why didn’t you protect mommy, Sarah? You let mommy go! You let everything your father and I taught you go! As soon as we died, you abandoned us. Abandoned us! You were supposed to protect mommy, but you let me fall into the hands of a dangerous man!”

The doll goes quiet for a moment as a naked black barbie doll joins the impromptu stage, presumably held up by Charlie’s other hand.

“You abandoned our entire tradition. You were supposed to protect it. You want to end our bloodline! All for what?! For this?! A little black slut?”

The mommy doll smacks against the Kenzi doll repeatedly as Charlie screams from behind the table. He throws the Kenzi doll out of frame like it’s a fastball on the last pitch of the world series. Charlie begins voicing the mommy doll again, this time back to his original inflection.

“There’s a good man out there for you, Sarah. A decent man! A family man! Make your father and I proud. We’re looking down on you in heaven, crying every day that you live in sin! Do the right thing, Sarah. We raised you better than this. We rai-”

The voice abruptly falls silent. A few moments of total quiet pass. Muffled whispers soon ruminate from behind the table. A few more seconds tick by before the mommy character is back in action.

“Marry Charlie, Sarah! He deserves it! He needs it!”

Charlie slips into his own voice for a moment before regaining his composure and carrying on with the puppet show.

“Charlie’s a good man! A family man! He’s a good wrestler, too! I know you think he’s a little too big, Sarah. And I know you think he’s a little bit too hardcore. And I know you think he’s not your type, but he is! I’m your mommy, Sarah! I know you best. I know what’s best for you. Charlie’s best for you!

You need to listen to mommy, Sarah. But if you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to…..

Daddy!”

A replica Jean-Paul Lacklan mask comes up to the impromptu stage, likely lifted by Charlie’s other hand. Charlie attempts to speak like the man from the old video footage, but he is still just too intimidating, strong, and charismatic to really pull off a good Jean-Paul Lacklan impression.

“You need to be a good girl, Sarah! You’ve gone down the wrong path. You’ve become a naughty little girl, Sarah. A lost daughter. A dissapointment. I begrudgingly let you train in my dying days. You took advantage of me to advance sin. I never thought you’d go to such extremes. We all sin from time to time. I thought if I could channel your sin, let you wrestle in a gym, you would be saved from sin throughout the rest of your life. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I never knew you were going to wrestle in front of crowds. I would have never approved. I don’t care who you hire to dress up as me, it doesn’t change who I was. Who I am documented to have been, for decades. You are a disgrace to my legacy. Yes, I wished for one universal champion. One savior to lift up professional wrestling and craft it in a perfect image. One MAN to hold the belt and the crown. Charlie is that MAN. God would NEVER choose a woman!

Have you forgotten the teachings of the Path of the Light Church? You never go there. You never study the scripture. You never quote the holy texts. You never give in depth explanations of our literary offerings and theological principles! You have had the largest platform ever given to a professional wrestler these last two weeks. The biggest game shows. The most watched talk shows in the world. Globally broadcast zoom calls. You have been given a platform with nearly unlimited reach.

And what do you choose to use it on?

Nonsense! You ramble on and on about Soldier, Gilly, Vinnie, and all the other fools and heathens that roam those halls. But when you’re not rambling on about irrelevant bullshit every other word is ‘fat’ or ‘jobber’. The other half of your vocabulary is just references to ‘garbage’ or ‘trash’! Nothing creative, just middle school insults every other jackal on the roster would’ve clinged to when faced with ol’ Charlie.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, ‘BEEP’. Try saying that 55 times fast.

You have spent no time spreading the message of our church. You have spent no time preaching my message. You went on Ellen and talked about my fucking theme music? DO YOU THINK I BECAME A WRESTLER FOR THE THEME MUSIC?! I BECAME A WRESTLER TO SPREAD THE MESSAGE OF THE PATH OF LIGHT CHURCH. I DEDICATED MY ENTIRE CAREER TO IT. MY LEGACY TO IT.

You spit on my legacy. You may as well be spitting on my grave.

If you were going to go against my wishes and my teachings, the least you could do is spread my message. Spread the power and influence of our church. Expand the power our family gained through hundreds of years of slavery and genocide. Expanding our Industry. But no!

But maybe, just maaaaayyybeee I could forgive you for desecrating that championship belt if you had a justified reason for it. A compelling narrative. Maybe you could change your daddy’s mind if you put the work into it! Show me, Sarah! Show me everything you are as a person. Show me your FLAWS! Yes, Sarah, FLAWS! Being ‘too good’ at wrestling and underestimating ‘jobber trash’ is not a FLAW! Show me how you have changed the church in my absence. Show me the ideology you have created for our followers using the seeds I planted. Show it to me, Sarah!

I don’t think you can. I think I shook your whiny ass too many times when you were bitching and moaning in that crib! I think I jumbled your brains up a bit too much! Turned them to mush. I wasted my seed on you.

I could have had a son. A real storied champion. Someone who will propel the world of professional wrestling forward into a new light. A new era. A worthy successor.

But instead, I got you. A daughter who has lost her ways. A vile fiend who tarnishes the championship belt more and more with each moment she possesses it. But it’s not too late to make it right.

You can still make me proud, Sarah. For the first time since I died I could look down at you from heaven with a feeling other than absolute disdain. I could finally have a SON, Sarah. Sanctified by Caesar’s law, who I have given unto what is deserved just as I have given unto God what is his. As it says I ought to in the holy book.

You can make Charlie my son in law. I’ve always wanted a son who was a universal champion. A son who soared higher than I ever could. A son who was more of a man, more of a wrestler than I could ever be.

Charlie will be the wrestling world’s Moses, setting our people free, casting off the chains of sinful oppression that bind this business.

No, no. Moses was, as our old friend Dex would so eloquently put it, ‘a jew’.

Charlie will be the wrestling world’s Abraham.

No, no. Wow….you really forget how many of the bible heros are jews until you start thinking about it.

My son in law will be the wrestling world’s David. Against all odds he will do the unthinkable.
Against all odds he will unseat the Goliath that has wrongly taken possession of the one championship to rule them all.

Charlie has been chosen. He WILL be the universal champion. God will deliver that championship to him on high. I can only pray that you will join Charlie in holy, submissive matrimony.

The Jean-Paul lacklan mask is tilted to face downwards, almost as if it is looking sad.

I never accomplished shit in my career. That’s why I crave a son like Charlie so badly. I was inducted into the hall of fame of two separate organizations that collapsed. Disappeared. Vanished into the dustbin of history. No one remembers. No one cares anymore. I never made it in any federation that was capable of withstanding the test of time. My history is all but vanished from the world, erased from all but the darkest depths of the internet. The championships I held. The accolades I was awarded. All….gone.

Is that why you run from me, Sarah? Is that why you run from your history? Is that why you are silent about the teachings of our church? Are you ashamed?

Are you ashamed of every time I called someone a f-a-you-know-the-rest? Are you ashamed of every time I said the word we all know every white man shouldn’t? Are you ashamed of every crass rape threat, every murdered puppy, every shitty promo?

You shouldn't be. It’s who you are. It’s what I passed down to you."

“Well maybe she should be a little ashamed! You were quite the bully!”

"SILENCE, WOMAN!"

The father mask attacks the mommy doll.

"DIE YOU BITCH! DIE! YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! DIE! I WILL KILL YOU AGAI-"

The puppets go silent. The mommy doll drops to the ground. Heavy sighing is heard from behind the table. A couple of odd smacking sounds can be heard. Hand connected with skull as a few soft whispers ruminate from behind the safety of the table. After a few seconds silence is restored. Then, Jean-Paul speaks again.

"You don’t deserve my surname. You don’t deserve to be a Lacklan.

But you do deserve to be a Nickles.

Embrace him, Sarah. Make me proud once more.

Abandon your temptress. Abandon your homosexuality! Learn to love the pipe, and never lay with a woman again!"

Charlie stands up. His upper body quickly passes in and out of frame. The camera goes up to cover Charlie’s face, but it is a few seconds behind and catches him mid-speech.

"Gotta disagree with you there, ol’ Preacherman. Those sexy little videos are my kind of treat. She can keep up that little side action so long as she lets Charlie film."

‘No Charlie! It’s sinful!’

"Not to my God, ol’ Pastor Pete."

‘Then you’re a heretic too! You and my whore daughter!’

"DON’T YOU CALL MY FIANCE A WHORE!"

Charlie starts smacking the replica mask around with his free, unburned, hand.

"You like that, you sissy bitch? After I make Sarah my little bitch do you want me to have a turn with you? A nice little fuck session with your corpse? Sarah says you’re into gay shit now. Well you're out of luck! I only like women on women gay shit, pal!"

Charlie throws the mask on the ground, stomping on it with his foot behind the table. A few moments later he turns to face the camera, an intense expression on his face.

"Do you see what I do for you, Sarah?! I will defend your honor! Even against wrestling legends! Hall of famers! Former lower mid card champions!

I will do anything for you Sarah. I will move mountains. I will lick the gaps between your toes every night.

But why do you reject me, Sarah? I shower you with love, with affection...but still you push me away.

Why?

Why?

WHY!?!?

Charlie flips over the table as he flies into a fit of rage. As the table goes flying off camera we see all that was hidden behind it. The dirtied up replica mask and the raggedy doll from ebay of course lay on the ground; but there are other, more interesting objects that may draw the viewer’s eye. One of the objects is a brown box labeled ‘side characters’ with a sharpie. The other object is a smaller red box with ‘Helzberg Diamond’ branding. The scarlet box is a bit grimey as it seems to have small pieces of trash and debris stuck to it. Charlie is breathing heavy and his face is growing more red with each passing second. Beads of sweat begin to drip down his nose, beard, and chin onto his plaid jacket.

"I am everything you could need in a man! You don’t answer me! You don’t talk about my love for you! You barely even address anything I say!

Why? WHY SARAH?!

You say I’m nothing, you say you don’t have to worry about beating me. But if you don’t have to worry, why do you pump out promotional video after promotional video? Why are you putting so much effort if I’m nothing but a ‘gimme’ win?

Sarah….SAY MY NAME, SARAH. Talk about our love! You don’t have to keep it a secret. God knows I’m not!

Sarah? SARAH! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Charlie is working himself into a frenzy, but he recognizes it. He looks towards the ground, trying regain his composure as he shakes his head from side to side. He speaks softly under his breath to himself: but with the great microphones paid for by Vinnie Lane, who still hates Sarah or something I guess, we’re finally able to hear the whispers Charlie tells to himself.

"No this won’t win her love. This won’t do it...no, Charlie….calm...calm…"

Charlie closes his eyes as he tries to control his breathing. He counts to ten inside his mind before he opens his eyes. Once he comes back to the world he’s calmer, more composed. He looks back up to the camera with a tender smile on his face.

"I have something for you Sarah. I got it from Jean-Paul Lacklan’s final resting place, just for you.

I know I’ve been saying we’re going to be married, because we are ordained by God as soulmates...but don’t you think it’s time to make it official?"

Charlie kneels to the ground, grabbing the crimson box. He gets on one knee as he prepares himself for the big moment. He takes a quick glance into the side characters box, which only contains one remaining ‘puppet’. A lone, green blob inside the dark box. He winks at the Kermit the Frog plush before returning his gaze to the camera. He pulls the top of the box open, revealing an incredibly small rainbow colored cock ring tucked into the soft pillowy interior of the Helzberg Diamonds ring case.

"Will you marry me?"
]]> Grainy video footage from a long forgotten clip plays on the screen.


Jean Paul-Lacklan Said:We find ourselves in what appears to be the room of a child. The room is dominantly pink: The walls are pink, though the accompanying carpet is a pearly white, with the raised ceiling painted to be the sky and stars above. The room features a small desk and chair, white with carnation trim, with a dresser and large toy box similarly dressed, and a small bed, pink with white trim. And, to fit the room nicely, there is a small child sitting upon the white floor, a doll in her hand.

The child is pretty, barely more than two years old, with straight black hair falling to her shoulders, though there is a bit of curl at the very ends. Her eyes are blue, a very bright and deep blue, with fair skin that shows a hint of pink in the cheeks. She is wearing a pink dress with a copious amount of white lace, and a small pair of pink bunny slippers. The doll in her hand is odd, though: It is female, as is to be expected, but everything else is a departure from the norm. The hair on the doll is jet black and there are small silver flecks upon the dolls face, placed as if they were piercings. The doll is dressed in a white robe, made of silk, that falls past her legs.

Regardless of the doll's odd appearance, it is obviously more than enough to keep her happy. She moves the doll back and forth, bouncing her on her knees as if dancing, a song coming from the child.

"I love my Mommy..." Her voice is soft and high-pitched, the words coming out rather well-formed for a toddler. "My Mommy is the best Mommy in the world..."

She plays with her doll, her song for her and her doll alone, even as the man in black enters the room.

Jean-Paul Lacklan is as how we are accustomed to seeing him. He wears his robe, the long black tresses falling to the pearly-white carpet, his hands before him, though they are covered by the far too big sleeves which droop almost to his knees. His cowl is down, though, pulled back away from his face, his scarred head almost blending in with the overbearing pink in the room. He stops a few steps from the child, who looks up at him.

"Daddy!"

The child smiles as she gazes up at the man in black. Although the alabaster mask covers the majority of Lacklan's face, we see the edges of his lips curl into a smile. And not even the half-smirk we are accustomed to seeing upon the madman's face; this is a full-on smile.

"Hello, Sarah." Lacklan cocks his head to the side a bit. "What is it that you are doing?"

The child looks back to her doll.

"Playing with Mommy."

Unseen by the toddler, Lacklan's smile falters, his eyes falling to the doll. Lacklan lowers himself to his knees, positioning himself behind Sarah, and gently brings the child to him.

"You must never let her go, child, do you understand?" Sarah looks at him without responding, but Lacklan goes on, taking one gloved hand to run his fingers through her hair. "She was beautiful, intelligent, caring. You look so much like her..."

Lacklan grows silent as he looks at his daughter, and at the doll. Sarah snuggles closer to her father. She may be a child, barely older than two, but like most children, she knows more than the grown-ups think. Lacklan holds her tighter, until they are interrupted a moment later.

"Mm-mm"

Lacklan looks to the doorway to see the issuer of the throat-clearing. Said issuer is a woman, her face a few years shy of 30, whose make-up is rather striking and odd. She, befitting the room and child, wears a pinks blouse which features a very high neck, almost up to her chin, and a black skirt that falls to her ankles, with feet enwrapped in high heels. She carries a clipboard, held close to the chest, full of papers.

Lacklan looks at her for several seconds then, with a nod, turns his gaze back to his daughter.

"Work?" the child asks, before he could say anything, which causes the smile to creep from behind the mask again.

"Yes, child. The work of the Savior is never finished. Play with Mommy nicely."

"Yes, Daddy."

Lacklan rises to his feet and leaves the room, the woman following closely behind, leaving the child to go back to playing with her doll.

"I love my Mommy...my Mommy is the best Mommy in the world..."


[Image: ZNhX8v0.jpg]

The screen comes back to life. We see a conventional wrestling table flipped over onto it’s side, laying the wrong way with it's legs extended for support. Behind the table all we see is well-lit darkness. We hear Charlie speak in a high-pitched ‘feminine’ voice as a tattered doll pops up above the table. The doll’s face appears slightly burnt in some areas and flattened in others. What little hair the doll has left is jet black. A torn silk robe with slight stainage atop it’s milky fabric covers the doll’s raggedy body.

“Sarah, it’s mommy. It’s your mommy, Sarah.”

A few snickers are heard from Charlie’s side of the table.

“I love you Sarah. You’re the best Sarah in the world.”

The tone shifts towards a more aggressive inflection.

“But you were supposed to protect mommy. Why didn’t you protect mommy, Sarah? You let mommy go! You let everything your father and I taught you go! As soon as we died, you abandoned us. Abandoned us! You were supposed to protect mommy, but you let me fall into the hands of a dangerous man!”

The doll goes quiet for a moment as a naked black barbie doll joins the impromptu stage, presumably held up by Charlie’s other hand.

“You abandoned our entire tradition. You were supposed to protect it. You want to end our bloodline! All for what?! For this?! A little black slut?”

The mommy doll smacks against the Kenzi doll repeatedly as Charlie screams from behind the table. He throws the Kenzi doll out of frame like it’s a fastball on the last pitch of the world series. Charlie begins voicing the mommy doll again, this time back to his original inflection.

“There’s a good man out there for you, Sarah. A decent man! A family man! Make your father and I proud. We’re looking down on you in heaven, crying every day that you live in sin! Do the right thing, Sarah. We raised you better than this. We rai-”

The voice abruptly falls silent. A few moments of total quiet pass. Muffled whispers soon ruminate from behind the table. A few more seconds tick by before the mommy character is back in action.

“Marry Charlie, Sarah! He deserves it! He needs it!”

Charlie slips into his own voice for a moment before regaining his composure and carrying on with the puppet show.

“Charlie’s a good man! A family man! He’s a good wrestler, too! I know you think he’s a little too big, Sarah. And I know you think he’s a little bit too hardcore. And I know you think he’s not your type, but he is! I’m your mommy, Sarah! I know you best. I know what’s best for you. Charlie’s best for you!

You need to listen to mommy, Sarah. But if you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to…..

Daddy!”

A replica Jean-Paul Lacklan mask comes up to the impromptu stage, likely lifted by Charlie’s other hand. Charlie attempts to speak like the man from the old video footage, but he is still just too intimidating, strong, and charismatic to really pull off a good Jean-Paul Lacklan impression.

“You need to be a good girl, Sarah! You’ve gone down the wrong path. You’ve become a naughty little girl, Sarah. A lost daughter. A dissapointment. I begrudgingly let you train in my dying days. You took advantage of me to advance sin. I never thought you’d go to such extremes. We all sin from time to time. I thought if I could channel your sin, let you wrestle in a gym, you would be saved from sin throughout the rest of your life. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I never knew you were going to wrestle in front of crowds. I would have never approved. I don’t care who you hire to dress up as me, it doesn’t change who I was. Who I am documented to have been, for decades. You are a disgrace to my legacy. Yes, I wished for one universal champion. One savior to lift up professional wrestling and craft it in a perfect image. One MAN to hold the belt and the crown. Charlie is that MAN. God would NEVER choose a woman!

Have you forgotten the teachings of the Path of the Light Church? You never go there. You never study the scripture. You never quote the holy texts. You never give in depth explanations of our literary offerings and theological principles! You have had the largest platform ever given to a professional wrestler these last two weeks. The biggest game shows. The most watched talk shows in the world. Globally broadcast zoom calls. You have been given a platform with nearly unlimited reach.

And what do you choose to use it on?

Nonsense! You ramble on and on about Soldier, Gilly, Vinnie, and all the other fools and heathens that roam those halls. But when you’re not rambling on about irrelevant bullshit every other word is ‘fat’ or ‘jobber’. The other half of your vocabulary is just references to ‘garbage’ or ‘trash’! Nothing creative, just middle school insults every other jackal on the roster would’ve clinged to when faced with ol’ Charlie.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, ‘BEEP’. Try saying that 55 times fast.

You have spent no time spreading the message of our church. You have spent no time preaching my message. You went on Ellen and talked about my fucking theme music? DO YOU THINK I BECAME A WRESTLER FOR THE THEME MUSIC?! I BECAME A WRESTLER TO SPREAD THE MESSAGE OF THE PATH OF LIGHT CHURCH. I DEDICATED MY ENTIRE CAREER TO IT. MY LEGACY TO IT.

You spit on my legacy. You may as well be spitting on my grave.

If you were going to go against my wishes and my teachings, the least you could do is spread my message. Spread the power and influence of our church. Expand the power our family gained through hundreds of years of slavery and genocide. Expanding our Industry. But no!

But maybe, just maaaaayyybeee I could forgive you for desecrating that championship belt if you had a justified reason for it. A compelling narrative. Maybe you could change your daddy’s mind if you put the work into it! Show me, Sarah! Show me everything you are as a person. Show me your FLAWS! Yes, Sarah, FLAWS! Being ‘too good’ at wrestling and underestimating ‘jobber trash’ is not a FLAW! Show me how you have changed the church in my absence. Show me the ideology you have created for our followers using the seeds I planted. Show it to me, Sarah!

I don’t think you can. I think I shook your whiny ass too many times when you were bitching and moaning in that crib! I think I jumbled your brains up a bit too much! Turned them to mush. I wasted my seed on you.

I could have had a son. A real storied champion. Someone who will propel the world of professional wrestling forward into a new light. A new era. A worthy successor.

But instead, I got you. A daughter who has lost her ways. A vile fiend who tarnishes the championship belt more and more with each moment she possesses it. But it’s not too late to make it right.

You can still make me proud, Sarah. For the first time since I died I could look down at you from heaven with a feeling other than absolute disdain. I could finally have a SON, Sarah. Sanctified by Caesar’s law, who I have given unto what is deserved just as I have given unto God what is his. As it says I ought to in the holy book.

You can make Charlie my son in law. I’ve always wanted a son who was a universal champion. A son who soared higher than I ever could. A son who was more of a man, more of a wrestler than I could ever be.

Charlie will be the wrestling world’s Moses, setting our people free, casting off the chains of sinful oppression that bind this business.

No, no. Moses was, as our old friend Dex would so eloquently put it, ‘a jew’.

Charlie will be the wrestling world’s Abraham.

No, no. Wow….you really forget how many of the bible heros are jews until you start thinking about it.

My son in law will be the wrestling world’s David. Against all odds he will do the unthinkable.
Against all odds he will unseat the Goliath that has wrongly taken possession of the one championship to rule them all.

Charlie has been chosen. He WILL be the universal champion. God will deliver that championship to him on high. I can only pray that you will join Charlie in holy, submissive matrimony.

The Jean-Paul lacklan mask is tilted to face downwards, almost as if it is looking sad.

I never accomplished shit in my career. That’s why I crave a son like Charlie so badly. I was inducted into the hall of fame of two separate organizations that collapsed. Disappeared. Vanished into the dustbin of history. No one remembers. No one cares anymore. I never made it in any federation that was capable of withstanding the test of time. My history is all but vanished from the world, erased from all but the darkest depths of the internet. The championships I held. The accolades I was awarded. All….gone.

Is that why you run from me, Sarah? Is that why you run from your history? Is that why you are silent about the teachings of our church? Are you ashamed?

Are you ashamed of every time I called someone a f-a-you-know-the-rest? Are you ashamed of every time I said the word we all know every white man shouldn’t? Are you ashamed of every crass rape threat, every murdered puppy, every shitty promo?

You shouldn't be. It’s who you are. It’s what I passed down to you."

“Well maybe she should be a little ashamed! You were quite the bully!”

"SILENCE, WOMAN!"

The father mask attacks the mommy doll.

"DIE YOU BITCH! DIE! YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! DIE! I WILL KILL YOU AGAI-"

The puppets go silent. The mommy doll drops to the ground. Heavy sighing is heard from behind the table. A couple of odd smacking sounds can be heard. Hand connected with skull as a few soft whispers ruminate from behind the safety of the table. After a few seconds silence is restored. Then, Jean-Paul speaks again.

"You don’t deserve my surname. You don’t deserve to be a Lacklan.

But you do deserve to be a Nickles.

Embrace him, Sarah. Make me proud once more.

Abandon your temptress. Abandon your homosexuality! Learn to love the pipe, and never lay with a woman again!"

Charlie stands up. His upper body quickly passes in and out of frame. The camera goes up to cover Charlie’s face, but it is a few seconds behind and catches him mid-speech.

"Gotta disagree with you there, ol’ Preacherman. Those sexy little videos are my kind of treat. She can keep up that little side action so long as she lets Charlie film."

‘No Charlie! It’s sinful!’

"Not to my God, ol’ Pastor Pete."

‘Then you’re a heretic too! You and my whore daughter!’

"DON’T YOU CALL MY FIANCE A WHORE!"

Charlie starts smacking the replica mask around with his free, unburned, hand.

"You like that, you sissy bitch? After I make Sarah my little bitch do you want me to have a turn with you? A nice little fuck session with your corpse? Sarah says you’re into gay shit now. Well you're out of luck! I only like women on women gay shit, pal!"

Charlie throws the mask on the ground, stomping on it with his foot behind the table. A few moments later he turns to face the camera, an intense expression on his face.

"Do you see what I do for you, Sarah?! I will defend your honor! Even against wrestling legends! Hall of famers! Former lower mid card champions!

I will do anything for you Sarah. I will move mountains. I will lick the gaps between your toes every night.

But why do you reject me, Sarah? I shower you with love, with affection...but still you push me away.

Why?

Why?

WHY!?!?

Charlie flips over the table as he flies into a fit of rage. As the table goes flying off camera we see all that was hidden behind it. The dirtied up replica mask and the raggedy doll from ebay of course lay on the ground; but there are other, more interesting objects that may draw the viewer’s eye. One of the objects is a brown box labeled ‘side characters’ with a sharpie. The other object is a smaller red box with ‘Helzberg Diamond’ branding. The scarlet box is a bit grimey as it seems to have small pieces of trash and debris stuck to it. Charlie is breathing heavy and his face is growing more red with each passing second. Beads of sweat begin to drip down his nose, beard, and chin onto his plaid jacket.

"I am everything you could need in a man! You don’t answer me! You don’t talk about my love for you! You barely even address anything I say!

Why? WHY SARAH?!

You say I’m nothing, you say you don’t have to worry about beating me. But if you don’t have to worry, why do you pump out promotional video after promotional video? Why are you putting so much effort if I’m nothing but a ‘gimme’ win?

Sarah….SAY MY NAME, SARAH. Talk about our love! You don’t have to keep it a secret. God knows I’m not!

Sarah? SARAH! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Charlie is working himself into a frenzy, but he recognizes it. He looks towards the ground, trying regain his composure as he shakes his head from side to side. He speaks softly under his breath to himself: but with the great microphones paid for by Vinnie Lane, who still hates Sarah or something I guess, we’re finally able to hear the whispers Charlie tells to himself.

"No this won’t win her love. This won’t do it...no, Charlie….calm...calm…"

Charlie closes his eyes as he tries to control his breathing. He counts to ten inside his mind before he opens his eyes. Once he comes back to the world he’s calmer, more composed. He looks back up to the camera with a tender smile on his face.

"I have something for you Sarah. I got it from Jean-Paul Lacklan’s final resting place, just for you.

I know I’ve been saying we’re going to be married, because we are ordained by God as soulmates...but don’t you think it’s time to make it official?"

Charlie kneels to the ground, grabbing the crimson box. He gets on one knee as he prepares himself for the big moment. He takes a quick glance into the side characters box, which only contains one remaining ‘puppet’. A lone, green blob inside the dark box. He winks at the Kermit the Frog plush before returning his gaze to the camera. He pulls the top of the box open, revealing an incredibly small rainbow colored cock ring tucked into the soft pillowy interior of the Helzberg Diamonds ring case.

"Will you marry me?"
]]> <![CDATA[Garbage Wrasslin' For The Troops!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38301 Thu, 24 Sep 2020 23:18:42 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38301

Charlie is wrapping his knuckles up with tape as he looks around the haphazardly constructed 'locker room' in the back room of the bar. There are some half-broken stools, some light reading material, and a few bottles of complimentary booze.

'Well....at least there is booze' Charlie thought to himself as he looked on the positive side of things.

Just as Charlie is about to reach for the bottle a dejected wrestler comes into the 'locker room' carrying a half-empty can of trash. The man is dressed in a black singlet and boots. The wrestler's hairy right nipple is peaking out of his singlet. Very sexy. Charlie raises an eyebrow at the small statured man as he takes a somber seat along the side wall. The man in the singlet sighs, a clear aura of despondency emanating from the man with the garbage can.

"What's your problem?" Charlie asks, more so out of curiosity than concern.

"No one wants to see the Trash Man wrestle!" the man responded quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"The gang says no one wants to see garbage wrestling! They won't book me for singles, they'll only book me for a tag match tonight! But nobody's seen my partner, Chawlie!"

Nickles raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the Trash man as he continued on.

"They said 'oh no, no one wants to see garbage in the ring! no one wants to see a fat, out of shape, nearly homeless man fight! They said this show was for the troops, and the troops don't want to see garbage like me!'"

"Screw them! Our kind of wrestling, hardcore wrestling, "garbage" wrestling....it's exactly what the troops want to see! The blood, the chaos, the destruction....they love it. They crave it. When the boys get back from Iraq, Afghanistan...they need to relive those great moments. All they saw was bloodshed over there. They need to see it here, too. Keep them grounded. Remind them of the familiar comforts of gunfire and dead bodies. Give them a little freedom from the bullshit monotony of everyday life back here in the states."

The Trash Man looks at Charlie Nickles with concern.

"I don't know about that....but have you seen Chawlie tonight? Good kid. Does the janitorial work around the bar. Tough kid, too. Especially when he's got that crow's milk in him! The gang said if I can get Chawlie to agree to suit up, I can fight the pigeon boys!"

Charlie Nickles smiled as he shook his head from side to side. He thought he had been booked to fight in a triple threat match against Da Maniac and The Talibum, but shit, Charlie was wrong more often than he was right.

"You found just the man you were looking for. I'll fight the...pigeon boys?....with you, jack." Charlie smiled as he nodded at the man in the singlet.

The Trash Man rubbed his eyes before cocking his head to the side.

"You're not Chawlie!"


"Uh...yeah, I am."

The Trash Man stood there dumbfounded for a few moments. He closed his eyes and rubbed them one more time, but the same Charlie stood before him after his eyes opened.

"Well damn! That smack Pondy got me must have been better than I thought. You look different, Chawlie! Bigger! Meaner! I'm sorry the gang kicked you out of the pigeon boys, but we'll be a great team! Dennis and Mac have been going crazy ever since they got on that Lacklan pigeon feed bullshit. Makes you fly like a bird my ass! All it does is shrivel your balls and turn you into a little girl! "

"Smack?"


"Yeah, I got the good stuff! I got some in this trash can somewhere. You want me to dig it out for you? It's good stuff, Chawlie!"


Charlie Nickles froze in contemplation. His mind was racing at a million miles per hour. A few beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His hands twitched slightly as he licked his lips. Charlie hadn't done any dope since he was readying up to face Robert Main in the gorilla position last Savage Saturday Night. Charlie knew he wanted the dope. All the pleasant memories of the drugs shooting through his body came to the forefront of his mind. All he could think of was the sweet taste of angel dust. The tingling feeling of a needle pressing into his vein. The satisfaction of watching the rock melt on top of a steel spoon.

"You want some, Chawlie?"


The Trash Man started digging through the trash, looking for his stash of smack. As he dug through the trash can he tossed out various items, from empty condom boxes to half-eaten subway sandwiches. Meanwhile Charlie remained fixated on his memories. The love he felt for the high was overwhelming. All the good times, all the midnight rushes, came flooding back.

"No, I can't..." Charlie shook his head from side to side as he quietly responded. At the forefront of his mind all the good times were still there, but in the back of his mind the chilling recollection of all the lows was still present. And there was a little bit of Jesus, too.

"Whacha' mean, Chawlie?"

"I can't get sucked back into that dark hole again. I can't let myself fall into that pit. Next time...I might not be able to climb out. There was a time when I'd throw it all away for a quick fix. I'd steal from my kids just to go buy a dime bag. I was a sick man. But then I found God...and now, I only drink." Charlie grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed the stem against the table it was sitting on. Glass went flying, some of it falling down into the contents of the bottle. Charlie didn't care. He chugged the entire beer, trying to wash away the desire for the hard drugs that had been gnawing at him, eating away at his soul for the last decade.

"Suit yourself, Chawlie! More dope for me!" The Trash Man stated as he shrugged, pulling his arms out of the garbage can. He watched as Charlie drank the entire bottle of beer, glass and all. He continued to watch as Charlie grabbed another nearby bottle of beer and did the exact same thing, smashing the stem against the table and all. As Charlie finished up his second beer, Dennis and Mac entered the locker room fully decked out in their ring attire.

[Image: URXCZOA.jpg]

Dennis and Mac walk over to the Trash Man and begin circling around him, flapping their makeshift wings every few seconds.

"Caw! Caw!" the two men say in unison, repeatedly.

"Hey, back off! Chawlie and I are gonna kick your asses out there! In front of all the troops! For America!"


Dennis and Mac laugh as Charlie's vision gets just a slight bit blurry.

"Charlie's not here, you idiot!" Mac retorts.

"What are you talking about? He's right there!" The Trash Man barked as he pointed at Charlie Nickles. Dennis and Mac's eyes go wide as they realize the implication.

"No way dude! I'm not fighting that guy! He's even bigger than Da Maniac!" Mac cries out.

"It's Chawlie! You said if I found Chawlie we'd wrassle!"


"That's Charlie fucking Nickles man! I'm not fighting him! Fuck this! Dennis, let's go!". Dennis and Mac leave the locker room as swiftly as they entered it. Charlie and the Trash man turn to look at each other.

"What was that all about?"

"I don't know! They said we could fight if I found Chawlie!"

Charlie drank a few more bottles of the complimentary beer as the two of them continued to discuss the pure cowardice and dishonesty of the pigeon boys. Minutes later, The Talibum came into the locker room.

[Image: KicEAI2.jpg]

"It's all you and me tonight, Nickles. You and me. In that squared circle. I shall destroy you, and then destroy America! Alalalalalala!" The Talibum tried to sound intimidating, but just came across as a total doofus. Charlie and the Trash Man laughed at his antics.

"Isn't there another guy on the card?"


"Oh don't you worry, I took care of him! Alalalalalalalala!"

"HA! RICKETY CRICKET BLEW THE MANIAC!"

"What? WHAT?! No I didn't!"

The Trash Man and Charlie continue to laugh at Rickety Cricket. His brow furrows in frustration as his eyes narrow in on the space between Charlie and the Trash Man.

"I didn't blow him! I didn't blow him! I called his parole officer!"


The Trash Man and Charlie stop laughing as they look at each other, sharing a disapproving glance. They turn back to face Cricket with disrespect in their eyes.

"Not cool."


"Yeah, Cricket! That's bullshit!"

"Look, it doesn't matter what you think! When it's just you and me between those ropes, Nickles, it's going to be the end of you! I've been studying up on your game. Watching you. You're just a garbage wrestling! You're fat. Out of shape! You're just a JOBBER, Charlie! J-O-B-B-E-R-R! What does that spell? Charlie! You probably don't even know the difference between an atomic drop and a reverse atomic drop! You don't even know anything about wrestling. You're just a fat junkie jobber! You don't even know why REAL wrestlers like ME drop onto the ground on our bellies when our opponents are running at us! We're trying to trip them, Charlie! But I bet you don't even know that!"


"Why would you drop to your gut? Just kick em' in the face like a real man! God, I can't stand you new age wrestlers. Everything is always so artsy with you. Such fancy pansy prissy shit. That's not how this cat rolls."


"That's why you're going to lose, Charlie! That's why you don't have a chance against a real TECHNICIAN like me! Someone that has played every single wrestling video game since 1997. That's right, all of them! Even Impact Wrestling! Even WWE 2k20! I know all of the moves! I've scrolled through the move sets in the game and learned the name of every single move, and I'm ready to kick your ass!"


Charlie shrugged at the Talibum as he reached for another bottle of booze.

"Get out of here, Cricket! You smell like shit!"


"Wait....do I really smell like shit? I thought I got it all off! God damn it!"


The Talibum walked out of the locker room to go check his trousers again. As the Talibum went to prepare for the match in his own way, the way of the wrestling technician, Charlie prepared a bit differently. For the next half an hour Charlie chugged down beer after beer, shooting the shit with the Trash Man while trying to suppress the ever-growing addictive desires that had taken hold of his mind. Drink after drink, joke after joke. This went on for some time.

Somehow, someway unbeknownst to Charlie, he found himself in the middle of the ring that night. He rubbed his eyes, and sure enough, he was still in the middle of a wrestling ring! He looked over towards the woman who had announced him, and she looked a hell of a lot like Fantasia! Charlie rubbed his eyes again, shaking his head from side to side.

"I must've had too much to drink..." a wobbly and groggy Charlie stated out loud on accident.

"And I'm gonna make you pay for it!"

DING DING DING


The Talibum was running right at Charlie! Nickles stuck a big boot up, and sure enough, Rickety Cricket ran right into it. The Talibum dropped to the ground immediately upon contact, out cold.

"Didn't I tell him I was going to do exactly this?" Charlie muttered to himself as he picked the man up by his clothing. He secured the DEVIL HOOK DROP and brought Cricket down to the mat with immense force! Cricket's neck audibly cracks, and you can see his head lean extremely to the right. None the less Charlie flipped the man over and secured the pinfall!

1

2

3!

DING DING DING



The match was over as soon as it began! Charlie stepped to his feet, still groggy and confused, as he looked around the warehouse filled with cheering fans. As Charlie gets off Cricket you can see that the man's neck is bent at an extreme angle. Probably broken. Charlie doesn't notice, or doesn't care. He basks in the chanting of the crowd!

Then...Charlie woke up. The smile on his face slowly disappears as he realizes he's still in that shitty motel room. There is no audience. There are no bright lights. There are only the legions of cockroaches and ants scittering across the floor. The stench of rotted Chinese food and body odor would be sickening to most, but Charlie has come to accept it by now. He reaches for the remote on his bedside, turning off the television. He rolls over, trying to secure a few more hours of rest before his big day tomorrow at Relentless night one.]]>

Charlie is wrapping his knuckles up with tape as he looks around the haphazardly constructed 'locker room' in the back room of the bar. There are some half-broken stools, some light reading material, and a few bottles of complimentary booze.

'Well....at least there is booze' Charlie thought to himself as he looked on the positive side of things.

Just as Charlie is about to reach for the bottle a dejected wrestler comes into the 'locker room' carrying a half-empty can of trash. The man is dressed in a black singlet and boots. The wrestler's hairy right nipple is peaking out of his singlet. Very sexy. Charlie raises an eyebrow at the small statured man as he takes a somber seat along the side wall. The man in the singlet sighs, a clear aura of despondency emanating from the man with the garbage can.

"What's your problem?" Charlie asks, more so out of curiosity than concern.

"No one wants to see the Trash Man wrestle!" the man responded quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"The gang says no one wants to see garbage wrestling! They won't book me for singles, they'll only book me for a tag match tonight! But nobody's seen my partner, Chawlie!"

Nickles raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the Trash man as he continued on.

"They said 'oh no, no one wants to see garbage in the ring! no one wants to see a fat, out of shape, nearly homeless man fight! They said this show was for the troops, and the troops don't want to see garbage like me!'"

"Screw them! Our kind of wrestling, hardcore wrestling, "garbage" wrestling....it's exactly what the troops want to see! The blood, the chaos, the destruction....they love it. They crave it. When the boys get back from Iraq, Afghanistan...they need to relive those great moments. All they saw was bloodshed over there. They need to see it here, too. Keep them grounded. Remind them of the familiar comforts of gunfire and dead bodies. Give them a little freedom from the bullshit monotony of everyday life back here in the states."

The Trash Man looks at Charlie Nickles with concern.

"I don't know about that....but have you seen Chawlie tonight? Good kid. Does the janitorial work around the bar. Tough kid, too. Especially when he's got that crow's milk in him! The gang said if I can get Chawlie to agree to suit up, I can fight the pigeon boys!"

Charlie Nickles smiled as he shook his head from side to side. He thought he had been booked to fight in a triple threat match against Da Maniac and The Talibum, but shit, Charlie was wrong more often than he was right.

"You found just the man you were looking for. I'll fight the...pigeon boys?....with you, jack." Charlie smiled as he nodded at the man in the singlet.

The Trash Man rubbed his eyes before cocking his head to the side.

"You're not Chawlie!"


"Uh...yeah, I am."

The Trash Man stood there dumbfounded for a few moments. He closed his eyes and rubbed them one more time, but the same Charlie stood before him after his eyes opened.

"Well damn! That smack Pondy got me must have been better than I thought. You look different, Chawlie! Bigger! Meaner! I'm sorry the gang kicked you out of the pigeon boys, but we'll be a great team! Dennis and Mac have been going crazy ever since they got on that Lacklan pigeon feed bullshit. Makes you fly like a bird my ass! All it does is shrivel your balls and turn you into a little girl! "

"Smack?"


"Yeah, I got the good stuff! I got some in this trash can somewhere. You want me to dig it out for you? It's good stuff, Chawlie!"


Charlie Nickles froze in contemplation. His mind was racing at a million miles per hour. A few beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His hands twitched slightly as he licked his lips. Charlie hadn't done any dope since he was readying up to face Robert Main in the gorilla position last Savage Saturday Night. Charlie knew he wanted the dope. All the pleasant memories of the drugs shooting through his body came to the forefront of his mind. All he could think of was the sweet taste of angel dust. The tingling feeling of a needle pressing into his vein. The satisfaction of watching the rock melt on top of a steel spoon.

"You want some, Chawlie?"


The Trash Man started digging through the trash, looking for his stash of smack. As he dug through the trash can he tossed out various items, from empty condom boxes to half-eaten subway sandwiches. Meanwhile Charlie remained fixated on his memories. The love he felt for the high was overwhelming. All the good times, all the midnight rushes, came flooding back.

"No, I can't..." Charlie shook his head from side to side as he quietly responded. At the forefront of his mind all the good times were still there, but in the back of his mind the chilling recollection of all the lows was still present. And there was a little bit of Jesus, too.

"Whacha' mean, Chawlie?"

"I can't get sucked back into that dark hole again. I can't let myself fall into that pit. Next time...I might not be able to climb out. There was a time when I'd throw it all away for a quick fix. I'd steal from my kids just to go buy a dime bag. I was a sick man. But then I found God...and now, I only drink." Charlie grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed the stem against the table it was sitting on. Glass went flying, some of it falling down into the contents of the bottle. Charlie didn't care. He chugged the entire beer, trying to wash away the desire for the hard drugs that had been gnawing at him, eating away at his soul for the last decade.

"Suit yourself, Chawlie! More dope for me!" The Trash Man stated as he shrugged, pulling his arms out of the garbage can. He watched as Charlie drank the entire bottle of beer, glass and all. He continued to watch as Charlie grabbed another nearby bottle of beer and did the exact same thing, smashing the stem against the table and all. As Charlie finished up his second beer, Dennis and Mac entered the locker room fully decked out in their ring attire.

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Dennis and Mac walk over to the Trash Man and begin circling around him, flapping their makeshift wings every few seconds.

"Caw! Caw!" the two men say in unison, repeatedly.

"Hey, back off! Chawlie and I are gonna kick your asses out there! In front of all the troops! For America!"


Dennis and Mac laugh as Charlie's vision gets just a slight bit blurry.

"Charlie's not here, you idiot!" Mac retorts.

"What are you talking about? He's right there!" The Trash Man barked as he pointed at Charlie Nickles. Dennis and Mac's eyes go wide as they realize the implication.

"No way dude! I'm not fighting that guy! He's even bigger than Da Maniac!" Mac cries out.

"It's Chawlie! You said if I found Chawlie we'd wrassle!"


"That's Charlie fucking Nickles man! I'm not fighting him! Fuck this! Dennis, let's go!". Dennis and Mac leave the locker room as swiftly as they entered it. Charlie and the Trash man turn to look at each other.

"What was that all about?"

"I don't know! They said we could fight if I found Chawlie!"

Charlie drank a few more bottles of the complimentary beer as the two of them continued to discuss the pure cowardice and dishonesty of the pigeon boys. Minutes later, The Talibum came into the locker room.

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"It's all you and me tonight, Nickles. You and me. In that squared circle. I shall destroy you, and then destroy America! Alalalalalala!" The Talibum tried to sound intimidating, but just came across as a total doofus. Charlie and the Trash Man laughed at his antics.

"Isn't there another guy on the card?"


"Oh don't you worry, I took care of him! Alalalalalalalala!"

"HA! RICKETY CRICKET BLEW THE MANIAC!"

"What? WHAT?! No I didn't!"

The Trash Man and Charlie continue to laugh at Rickety Cricket. His brow furrows in frustration as his eyes narrow in on the space between Charlie and the Trash Man.

"I didn't blow him! I didn't blow him! I called his parole officer!"


The Trash Man and Charlie stop laughing as they look at each other, sharing a disapproving glance. They turn back to face Cricket with disrespect in their eyes.

"Not cool."


"Yeah, Cricket! That's bullshit!"

"Look, it doesn't matter what you think! When it's just you and me between those ropes, Nickles, it's going to be the end of you! I've been studying up on your game. Watching you. You're just a garbage wrestling! You're fat. Out of shape! You're just a JOBBER, Charlie! J-O-B-B-E-R-R! What does that spell? Charlie! You probably don't even know the difference between an atomic drop and a reverse atomic drop! You don't even know anything about wrestling. You're just a fat junkie jobber! You don't even know why REAL wrestlers like ME drop onto the ground on our bellies when our opponents are running at us! We're trying to trip them, Charlie! But I bet you don't even know that!"


"Why would you drop to your gut? Just kick em' in the face like a real man! God, I can't stand you new age wrestlers. Everything is always so artsy with you. Such fancy pansy prissy shit. That's not how this cat rolls."


"That's why you're going to lose, Charlie! That's why you don't have a chance against a real TECHNICIAN like me! Someone that has played every single wrestling video game since 1997. That's right, all of them! Even Impact Wrestling! Even WWE 2k20! I know all of the moves! I've scrolled through the move sets in the game and learned the name of every single move, and I'm ready to kick your ass!"


Charlie shrugged at the Talibum as he reached for another bottle of booze.

"Get out of here, Cricket! You smell like shit!"


"Wait....do I really smell like shit? I thought I got it all off! God damn it!"


The Talibum walked out of the locker room to go check his trousers again. As the Talibum went to prepare for the match in his own way, the way of the wrestling technician, Charlie prepared a bit differently. For the next half an hour Charlie chugged down beer after beer, shooting the shit with the Trash Man while trying to suppress the ever-growing addictive desires that had taken hold of his mind. Drink after drink, joke after joke. This went on for some time.

Somehow, someway unbeknownst to Charlie, he found himself in the middle of the ring that night. He rubbed his eyes, and sure enough, he was still in the middle of a wrestling ring! He looked over towards the woman who had announced him, and she looked a hell of a lot like Fantasia! Charlie rubbed his eyes again, shaking his head from side to side.

"I must've had too much to drink..." a wobbly and groggy Charlie stated out loud on accident.

"And I'm gonna make you pay for it!"

DING DING DING


The Talibum was running right at Charlie! Nickles stuck a big boot up, and sure enough, Rickety Cricket ran right into it. The Talibum dropped to the ground immediately upon contact, out cold.

"Didn't I tell him I was going to do exactly this?" Charlie muttered to himself as he picked the man up by his clothing. He secured the DEVIL HOOK DROP and brought Cricket down to the mat with immense force! Cricket's neck audibly cracks, and you can see his head lean extremely to the right. None the less Charlie flipped the man over and secured the pinfall!

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2

3!

DING DING DING



The match was over as soon as it began! Charlie stepped to his feet, still groggy and confused, as he looked around the warehouse filled with cheering fans. As Charlie gets off Cricket you can see that the man's neck is bent at an extreme angle. Probably broken. Charlie doesn't notice, or doesn't care. He basks in the chanting of the crowd!

Then...Charlie woke up. The smile on his face slowly disappears as he realizes he's still in that shitty motel room. There is no audience. There are no bright lights. There are only the legions of cockroaches and ants scittering across the floor. The stench of rotted Chinese food and body odor would be sickening to most, but Charlie has come to accept it by now. He reaches for the remote on his bedside, turning off the television. He rolls over, trying to secure a few more hours of rest before his big day tomorrow at Relentless night one.]]>