<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - High Stakes RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Sun, 10 May 2026 14:43:28 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Ain't that a kick in the head]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39022 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:59:07 -0800 Felix Jones]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39022
I lit up a cigarette as I walked through the park and soon to a bench that looked over a large pond. I might as well enjoy the view and sat down, leaned back and relaxed. It truly a beautiful site to behold. Nature was pretty cool and very peaceful. I was still a little worried about not remembering anything but oh well, fuck it. Why care when I'm enjoying myself? I wasn't dead, you didn't dream if you were dead. Right? Ah fuck it. I took a drag from my cigarette and blew out the smoke.

"Hello Felix, would you happen to have a light? I seemed to have forgotten mine."

I turned my head to the voice and standing before for me was a woman, dressed in a strapless red gown, with a leg slit and red heels with white arm length gloves. Her hair was long and black, the way her hair was done, it covered half her face, I could a single deep green eye looking at me. She was beautiful, in every sense of the word, yet that wasn't enough to describe her beauty. her tan skin complete the look. I know this was a dream but no way in Hell I could dream up someone like the woman in front of me. This was getting strange.

"You do know, it's rude for a gentleman to stair at a lady." I blinked and shook my head.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You need a light."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my silver Zippo, snapped it open and sparked it to life. The woman bent over a bit and place the end of her cigarette to the flame and brought it to life. She was using a long cigarette holder. Like the one you see Cruella Deville use in the 101 Dalmatians. I watched her take a puff and blow out the smoke into the air, the smoke formed into a spade.

"That's a cool trick. I can only make rings." I said with a smile.

"I can do many different shapes and forms. It's just a bit of fun for me."

I started to get the feeling I have known this woman my whole life but I couldn't put my finger on it. The woman must have seen something on my face, telling her I was trying to place her because she spoke again.

"I'm sure you're very confused right now. The fact you know that you're in a dream but can't remember falling asleep. That's why I'm here Felix."

I sighed deeply. I knew it. I was dead and this woman must be an angel or maybe a demon to send me to where ever and since I was a gambling man. I'd bet on Hell.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

The woman gave a chuckle and shook her head.

"No, but you should be. I wasn't going to allow that to happen. You're one of my favorites Felix."

"What? favorites? Okay, now I'm really confused. Who are you?" I said raising my eyebrow in confusion. She laughed this time, throwing her head back while she did. It took a moment for her to come back to me but she looked right into my eyes and place a hand on my cheek and gave me a warm, loving, soft smile.

"Look at me and think. I've been with you, your whole life. Since the day you were born in fact. You bare my mark."

My eyes grew wide.

"You mean Lady Luck? The Lady Luck? You're real?" I kept blinking, I couldn't comprehend what was going on.

"Yes Felix. I am The one and only Lady Luck. It's nice to finally meet you face to face." She reached her hand out to shake. I stood up and took her hand in mine and shook it.

"Well you have to be real because there is no way in Hell I could dream up such a beautiful woman."

"Oh Felix. Flattery will get you everything."

"Haha, yeah, about that. Why am I dreaming? It doesn't feel normal. Not like a normal one anyways. Did something happen to me?"

Lady Luck nodded before sitting down on the bench, I did the same.

"Right now, as we speak. You're laying in a shallow grave in the middle of the desert with a bullet in your head but since you bare my mark. You were very lucky. The bullet entered the skin but didn't penetrate your skull. Like I said, I wasn't going to allow you to die. It's not your time."

I was about to speech but pain ran through my head. It was so bad, I fell to my head holding my head. I felt something warm on my right hand. I looked at it, and it was covered in blood. Oh God, the pain was too much. I've been shot before but it didn't feel anything like this. It felt like someone was pouring melted gold all over my head.

"You're waking up Felix. That's why there is pain. I must be going now. I sadly can't take away the pain your feeling but know that you will live and I'll be watching over you."

I couldn't speak, I reached out to her and she grabbed my hand before the dream and my world went dark. Nothing but darkness.]]>
I lit up a cigarette as I walked through the park and soon to a bench that looked over a large pond. I might as well enjoy the view and sat down, leaned back and relaxed. It truly a beautiful site to behold. Nature was pretty cool and very peaceful. I was still a little worried about not remembering anything but oh well, fuck it. Why care when I'm enjoying myself? I wasn't dead, you didn't dream if you were dead. Right? Ah fuck it. I took a drag from my cigarette and blew out the smoke.

"Hello Felix, would you happen to have a light? I seemed to have forgotten mine."

I turned my head to the voice and standing before for me was a woman, dressed in a strapless red gown, with a leg slit and red heels with white arm length gloves. Her hair was long and black, the way her hair was done, it covered half her face, I could a single deep green eye looking at me. She was beautiful, in every sense of the word, yet that wasn't enough to describe her beauty. her tan skin complete the look. I know this was a dream but no way in Hell I could dream up someone like the woman in front of me. This was getting strange.

"You do know, it's rude for a gentleman to stair at a lady." I blinked and shook my head.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You need a light."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my silver Zippo, snapped it open and sparked it to life. The woman bent over a bit and place the end of her cigarette to the flame and brought it to life. She was using a long cigarette holder. Like the one you see Cruella Deville use in the 101 Dalmatians. I watched her take a puff and blow out the smoke into the air, the smoke formed into a spade.

"That's a cool trick. I can only make rings." I said with a smile.

"I can do many different shapes and forms. It's just a bit of fun for me."

I started to get the feeling I have known this woman my whole life but I couldn't put my finger on it. The woman must have seen something on my face, telling her I was trying to place her because she spoke again.

"I'm sure you're very confused right now. The fact you know that you're in a dream but can't remember falling asleep. That's why I'm here Felix."

I sighed deeply. I knew it. I was dead and this woman must be an angel or maybe a demon to send me to where ever and since I was a gambling man. I'd bet on Hell.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

The woman gave a chuckle and shook her head.

"No, but you should be. I wasn't going to allow that to happen. You're one of my favorites Felix."

"What? favorites? Okay, now I'm really confused. Who are you?" I said raising my eyebrow in confusion. She laughed this time, throwing her head back while she did. It took a moment for her to come back to me but she looked right into my eyes and place a hand on my cheek and gave me a warm, loving, soft smile.

"Look at me and think. I've been with you, your whole life. Since the day you were born in fact. You bare my mark."

My eyes grew wide.

"You mean Lady Luck? The Lady Luck? You're real?" I kept blinking, I couldn't comprehend what was going on.

"Yes Felix. I am The one and only Lady Luck. It's nice to finally meet you face to face." She reached her hand out to shake. I stood up and took her hand in mine and shook it.

"Well you have to be real because there is no way in Hell I could dream up such a beautiful woman."

"Oh Felix. Flattery will get you everything."

"Haha, yeah, about that. Why am I dreaming? It doesn't feel normal. Not like a normal one anyways. Did something happen to me?"

Lady Luck nodded before sitting down on the bench, I did the same.

"Right now, as we speak. You're laying in a shallow grave in the middle of the desert with a bullet in your head but since you bare my mark. You were very lucky. The bullet entered the skin but didn't penetrate your skull. Like I said, I wasn't going to allow you to die. It's not your time."

I was about to speech but pain ran through my head. It was so bad, I fell to my head holding my head. I felt something warm on my right hand. I looked at it, and it was covered in blood. Oh God, the pain was too much. I've been shot before but it didn't feel anything like this. It felt like someone was pouring melted gold all over my head.

"You're waking up Felix. That's why there is pain. I must be going now. I sadly can't take away the pain your feeling but know that you will live and I'll be watching over you."

I couldn't speak, I reached out to her and she grabbed my hand before the dream and my world went dark. Nothing but darkness.]]> <![CDATA[Nowhere Left To Go]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38951 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:52:38 -0800 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38951
OOC: Formatting this beast is going to be a pain so I am posting it a little early unformatted and finishing without the threat of DQ breathing down my neck.

Continued from: My Mortal Soul



“We’ve got a visitor.”

The wrestlers of DOD flocked around the guest, shocked to see a new face after all this time. They were an odd bunch of folks, but they all seemed unique and full of promise in their own right, even if it was being wasted a bit out here. A woman wearing overly elaborate leather was the first to approach Ned.

“Welcome to our little oasis in the desert. They refer to me as the Mistress of Mayhem. Do I recognize you from anywhere?”

“Maybe. I’m Ned Kaye. I’ve been around a lot in the indies and the-”

“XWF,” another woman spoke up. Her hair was a silvery blonde and she spoke with a shyer voice than he might expect from her.

“I’ve seen a few of your matches. Alexis Storm, nice to meet ya.”

“Same to you.”

The man with the mop and bucket vigorously shook Ned’s hand, smiling widely.

“They call me The Janitor. There’s not a mess I can’t clean up given enough time.”

Ned returned the shake, only to be met with two more by two ridiculous looking men with dollar signs all over their attire, one wearing torn, old clothes, the other in a suit that had no place being this close to the desert outside of Vegas.

“A warm welcome from myself, Millions and-”

“And Billions! We’d love to do some business with you if you get the time.”

“Sure, I’ll-uh, think about it!”

A large man walked up to Ned, towering over him before gesturing towards the ring.

“Name’s John Stone. Friends call me The Necromancer. You ready to go?”

“To… go? Like a match?”

Necromancer nodded once.

“I just got here!”

“That’s how we treat all newcomers, darling! We have a big old gauntlet and if you can last, you may face our champion and get a shot at our beautiful title!”

“Champion, who’s the-”

Ned was cut off by the arrival of the DOD Champion who held the title with a tight grip in his hands. His name was written on his attire: The Silence. He wore a pitch black mask with silver accents. He had a look to be reckoned with, but Ned didn’t feel too interested in facing him.

“You ready?”

“I don’t know about facing anybody for the belt, but…”

“You’re on!”

Ned rushed into the ring and prepared himself for the gauntlet.



The afterglow of Ned’s victories was short-lived, leaving him wincing and inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as he laid in the small room they had offered him in one of the spare trailers. Stretched out face first upon the bed, he did his best to keep his wits about him despite the agonizing feeling strung across his spine. It had been hardly noticeable with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but once that all wore off and he had calmed down, it all came hitting its hardest at once. This pain was near the worst he’d ever felt, the light tube’s remnants peppered across his back. Sure, he’d gotten hit with chairs and the occasional thumbtacks in his career, but this was something else. An entirely different beast Ned was determined to slay. Because if he could survive this, he was ready. It was his time. He focused on the match. On the man he had to humble. With an exasperated, quiet whisper, he uttered the name.

“Robbie Bourbon.”

That’s why he was here. Ned had to prove that BoB couldn’t just run roughshod while people suffered and were beaten. To remind everyone that the wrath of the gentle wasn’t something to be trifled with. That he belonged shoulder to shoulder with champions like he had always promised. His time. He always told about his time and how it would eventually come, but he was through waiting. Ned was going to make this bold new era happen now! An era where the Hart Title would be defended with honor and respect. A time he wished his father could be here to see. He’d make it happen! Ned went to stand!

Holding back a large cry of pain, he regretted the decision to attempt to get on his feet immediately, reaching to hold his back before remembering why he likely shouldn’t. Burying his face back in the blanket beneath him, he was taken off-gaurd by a knock on the door. Weighing his options, he eventually just called out to whoever was knocking.

“Come in. I’m not really in the position to get up right now.”

The door opened, Alexis Storm walking in with a medical bag at her side.

“Well, look at you, winner,” she teased.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s up?”

“I was gonna help patch you up a bit. You looked beat to shit after that gauntlet. ‘Sides, it’s kinda what I do normally.”

“That’s fine. Uh… thanks.”

“No problem,” she replied, stepping over to the bed and beginning to inspect his back. Her stunned silence didn’t grow much confidence in Ned.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t wrestle deathmatches too often, do you?”

“Today was my first day.”

“Seriously? It certainly looked like you had at least some experience. Even when you were worn at the end, you still pulled off a pretty decisive victory. In a gauntlet, that’s rare. Only seen one other fella do it.”

“The Silence, right?”

“He’s good. Best wrestler I’ve ever seen. Says he’s faced people from companies big and small alike and always made his impact on ‘em.”

“I’d certainly like to face him, but I don’t know how good I feel about challenging for the DOD Championship when I know I won’t be sticking around for too long.”

“You should at least ask. He might stick to the persona a lot, but it means a lot to him. Every person here has been helped in some way by him. He helped pay some of the debts Cash Money owed. He got Jani out of some bad business back in his hometown. Hell, he helped me with my trauma and paid for a therapist. I didn’t go, but, hey, he paid. We owe a lot to that guy. I see a lot of you in him, honestly.”

Ned smiled slightly, immediately tensing up as he felt her hands on his back.

“Calm down. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I-I know. I’m just… tense.”

“I can tell. Could you try and relax? Maybe you could tell me about some of the stuff you did back when you were riding in the indies?”

“Honestly, I’d like to, but I only remember bits and pieces. And the bits I do remember aren’t particularly flattering.”

“Please, hun, flattering histories aren’t exactly a mainstay of Dee Oh Dee.”

With a small laugh, Ned went to the first memory on his mind. One that had been lingering for a few weeks.

“I used to wrestle in this place called Access. I was a highlight of the roster according to my peers, but it was during my worst stint with alcohol. Right after my fiance had died.”

“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I appreciate it. Anyway, I had been hitting the bottle a lot before a title match I had with a fellow called AnarChrist.”

“AnarChrist? God, that’s cheesy!”

“And The Silence isn’t?”

“Touche. Continue.”

“Well, the guy’s real name was James Daggard. And one night he had to go out there and cut a promo on me. Well, he insulted my fiance and said generally awful stuff.”

“Jesus. What did you do?”


Seeing Jim through the thin window of the hospital door brought an uneasy sensation to Ned’s chest. He was hopeful it was just the booze, but that lie was short-lived even to his fogged mind. He looked at the back of his knuckles, seeing the smeared blood painted upon his hands. It was pungent and cold against his skin. Everything else in the hospital was clean, a sterile haven free from the kind of dirt and grime Ned could feel caked upon every inch of his being. He had tried to wipe away the sensation, but it refused to simply pass. It was a filth that seemed to have its roots in Ned, merely sinking deeper the more he tried to scrub himself down. No matter how hard he pressed the rags and towels against his hands, he felt the same. The blood wouldn’t leave his hands, only smear.

A voice broke his concentration.

“I think you’d oughta move.”

He turned to face the source, seeing the owner of the indie he’d been mainly working at these past few years.

“I doubt the first thing he’d want to see when he woke up would be you, kid.”

“Neil, I-”

“Don’t you fucking “Neil” me.”

Neil Acosta took out a cigarette and contemplated trying to give it a smoke, but decided against the hassle with the staff.

“Our biggest champion is out of commission because you couldn’t keep your goddamn wits about you. Do you realize how much that sets us back?”

“I know, please let me explain myself.”

Acosta shook his head dismissively.

“That ship has long sailed. What is this, Ned? The fourth time you’ve done something stupid while drinking? Or was it the fifth? Oh, wait, you didn’t almost kill somebody the last however many fucking times!”

“Did you hear what he was saying about Lilian?”

“Yeah, Ned, I heard it! And it was awful and we were gonna reprimand him after the show, but we can’t quite do that, now can we?”

Ned stayed quiet, swallowing a poorly thought rebuttal.

“Do you know how excited I was to get you in here, kid? I thought you were the future! I thought you were gonna be somebody! I was talking you up to all of the owners I knew! I got you work, Ned! That was my reputation, too, when you did something stupid! This is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry. I-... I can do better.”

“No. You can’t. I want you to succeed, kid, but you’re a liability. I don’t care where you go, but it ain’t gonna be here, kid.”

Shrugging disappointedly, Neil lit his cigarette and headed for an exit door.

“You wanted to be notorious? Congrats.”


“Jeez.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I can’t believe that you keep doing this after all that stuff. I can’t imagine trying to mourn and overcome addiction and still coming out to get the shit kicked out of me.”

Ned tried to shrug, wincing through the pain.

“It’s… it’s what I have to do. Part of me wants to settle down and try something more traditional, but every time that I do, I end up back here somehow. I love wrestling. Not the fame, limited as mine may be. Not the money or status. This is one of the only things I can really take pride in. That I can enjoy. I’ve performed in front of crowds of thousands and amongst no one else but my opponent and it still always invigorates me. I feel more focused in the ring. In a world where I constantly find myself uncertain or lost following a tragedy, wrestling is like home: I can always come back. I’ve put myself through hell and back just to do this. That’s why I came here. The wrestlers I’m around are celebrities, businessmen, or at least have a side gig. But at DOD… it’s as if I’m surrounded by people I can relate to on at least one level. Everyone here wrestles the most dangerous style in the business in front of their peers just to prove they’re the best. They’re not looking for personal benefit. It’s about the sport. Wrestling is my life and you all get that.”

Alexis chuckled a bit, still carefully removing the glass bits from Ned’s back.

“I don’t think you’re right, Neddy.”

“Hm?”

“I think most of us stay here because this is the only family we’ve ever known. You… you have somewhere else to go. We don’t. To be honest, I don’t know why anybody would bother wasting away out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere when they could be with the people they love.”

She shook her head, sighing.

“It kinda feels like you’re running from that, Neddy. We’d all kill to be in your position. And, if we were, you sure as hell wouldn’t find us in the desert.”

Ned tried to give a half-hearted laugh, but her response just made him feel more solace. Just further isolated in the grand scheme of the universe.

“But maybe there’s one guy here who’ll get you.”

His ears perked.

“Silence. That guy might keep his mouth shut most of the time, but when he does talk, he’s the most passionate guy you’ll ever hear! If anybody could help you, I think he could. I couldn’t tell you how many times one of us has been in a rough spot and a car ride with ol’ Silence hasn’t helped. You should really ask him!”

Ned’s face tightened as Storm released a particularly well-entrenched shard from his back.

“I think I will.”


The Light I’m Chasing


"Man of the People."

"It's a designation that carries a lot of weight. An honor that thousands of people have fought long and hard for. Some longer than others. In those respects, it’s much like the Hart title. And in the same way, despite all of those who have poured their ambition and life into the pursuit, it has been ruthlessly acquired by Robbie Bourbon, now going by Bobby just so he can associate with this brand for a few months before switching back. And if you think for even a passing second that Bourbon has even the smallest morsel of respect for either of them, then you didn’t watch the promo he cut on me. For some of you, that might have been a surprise, but for me? It’s deja vu.”

“I mean, for all of his posturing about me taking his title shot earlier this year, he seems to forget that he was in the Leap of Faith match where that very same briefcase was on the line. If he was such a big man, he could have put that effort and fought me then. But he didn’t. Robbie, don’t talk about what someone does or doesn’t deserve when you toss your boons away like they’re a bad habit. You want to underestimate me? Be my guest. I don’t need or want your approval. I’m not here to humor your inane claims about the content of my character. I’m here for your title. You can’t pay me to go away. Your friends in BoB don’t think you need help, but you desperately do. Because even if I walk out of there a challenger on another day, I plan on making it as painful as possible for you. I’ve long spoken about standing to be a fiery beacon of justice and there is no better time to prove how scorching I can get.”

“Here’s a tidbit, Robbie. I’m going to slap you across the face during our match. Once with my left hand. That’s for Ruby and everyone you and BoB ever hurt to further your own ends because none of you were strong enough to do it fairly. Then I’m going to slap you with my right hand. That’s for Barney and anyone else that you have sold an empty lie to, only for the hopes that you can profit off of their kind heartedness. Then I’m going to kick you right in your jaw. That’s for me, Robbie. So you don’t forget to take me seriously next time.”

“I’ve had to hear so many people bring up my past as a reason to discredit me. As if I wasn’t well aware enough of what happened. As if anything you say isn’t something I’ve already heard from in front of a mirror. I’m not worried about having the strength or willpower to beat you, Robbie, I’m in the tough position of channeling it. Of seeing if the blade is honed enough to cut through the hide of BoB’s dragon. Can I do it? That’s what everyone’s always wondered about me. If I can cut it at that level. If everything everyone saw in me was justified or not. I’ve spent countless nights looking at the ceiling pondering the same question. But you know what? I shouldn’t even ask it because you’ve been a champion Robbie and I’ve done something you haven’t: I’ve always put my best foot forward, even if my best wasn’t much. Even in my most infamous defeat, I dragged myself through a blizzard to make it there. You barely drag yourself out of bed to cut a promo. We are not alike, you and I. You talk about representing the people, but you do it from behind your cushy apartments and you’re constantly looking for another way to nickel and dime those who admire you. You’d sell their admiration for pennies on the dollar if you felt that would benefit you the most. But that’s not me. I might have my face on a bottle of shampoo, but it’s the product I use, even if I’m 99% certain they put something weird in there. It doesn’t matter because it works and if I’m going to have my face or name on something, I make sure it means something. Because I was never assured popularity. I was gifted it and I will never forget or forsake that generosity. And I would face you as many more times as I have to if that meant protecting my goodwill with the fans who made my entry into this company, my dream job, possible.”

“And when I do face you again, which I inevitably will after I’ve run through every last member of BoB and Chaotic Inc. and whatever other groups of opportunistic bastards looking to harm people for their own enjoyment arises in the meantime, I’ll have that belt and your Man of the People designation and you’ll have your muscles and a grudge. That’s what I’m going to leave you with, Bourbon. I’m not here to just beat you. I’m here to make an example of you. I want to show you how much those people you overlook when it doesn’t line your pockets matter. I’ll be the one to deliver that humility upon you. I want everyone to know that you could be my polar opposite, you could exemplify the traits that are hardest for me to overcome and I still will decimate you if I have to. So, at least lift a weight, Bourbon. Crack a joke at my expense. Pose next to a cardboard cutout of me and run your mouth. What I’m saying is have some fun with that belt while you still can. God knows you’ll need the memories.”


Ned sat in the car with The Silence, both staying relatively quiet.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re headed?”

For the first time, Silence actually spoke up.

“It’s a good place to meditate. It’ll clear your mind.”

Ned hesitated a moment. The voice had an odd ring to it. Before he could give it much thought, Silence added to his statement.

“How’d you like that tea I gave you, by the way?”

“It was fine, but definitely tasted medicinal, if you know what I mean.”

“Just one of its properties.”

Ned’s head had begun to feel increasingly odd as time had passed. He kept trying to shake the feeling off, but it was a creeping demon of sorts.

“What was in that… tea?”

“It’s time to get out, Ned.”

Without thinking about it too much, Ned stepped out of the vehicle. As soon as he was out, he realized something was very, very wrong with his state of mind. There was an aura to everything that Ned didn’t typically feel. It was all increasingly worrisome.

“Enjoy,” said Silence before he sped off into the night, leaving Ned out in the middle of nowhere. Alone.


The chilled nocturnal gusts rushed past Ned. Everything felt weightless and yet glued together to him. As he took each step, the mere act of holding himself up became more difficult, an awful pain building in his stomach. After a few steps, he fell to his knees, feeling the pressure in him reach a fiery zenith, ultimately retching out onto the dry, cracked sand beneath him. The haziness in his mind intensified, his thoughts both racing and colliding within his head. Ned did his best to focus as the desert floor warped and twisted underneath his hand, the gentle moonlight reflecting his face in his own vomit. It was a contorted, devilish visage that Ned tried to block out by closing his eyes, but it only made the face more clear. The exaggerated features a nightmarish distortion; its smile stretching well beyond what his face should allow. Gulping, Ned got up and kept looking forward. He tried to focus on one thing. A name. He could focus on a name.

“Robbie Bourbon.”

That’s why he came here. He wasn’t about to die in the middle of nowhere on his own. He was going to fight for the Hart Title and go home and win. He could do it, he just had to focus.

He wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours when he began to see a vision out of the corner of his eye. It was twisted and warped. As he focused on it more, he could see the silhouette of The Engineer, or so he thought. The more it warped, the more it resembled the vision in his dreams. The more it became himself. Eventually, it stopped just tagging along in the corner of his eye and began to visibly walk alongside him. Kaye tried to ignore it. Just chalk it up as hallucination. But it wouldn’t go away. No matter how hard he attempted to dissipate it with disbelief, the vision stayed close at his side. Eventually, it began to speak.

“He must’ve been very stupid to trifle with us. He doesn't know how bad you want to hurt him.”

Although Ned would never want to admit it, he had an urge to hurt Silence after drugging him and dropping him off in the middle of the desert. He tried to focus on something less grim, but the thought kept coming to mind.

“Do you think he knows how badly he’s fucked? Maybe he wants to test us.”

“There’s no us. You’re not real.”

“I’m not?”

The vision looked at the back of its hands indignantly.

“Well, that’d be a shame. After all this time, I thought I was real, but I suppose just because you said so, I’m not. Then again, you said you wouldn’t come back after losing your Uni shot, so what you say doesn’t hold much weight, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just telling you what we know. What you know. We’re both well aware that you’re just the act. The persona that’s hiding the real you. Or the real me, if you’d prefer.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh? How would you know?”

Ned hesitated, uncertain how to answer.

“Exactly.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to remember the way back.”

“No, you’re not. Even in this sorry state, you know the way back. You just want to know if you’re strong enough to do what’s necessary. You’re not, but the more you try, the closer I am to my big stage debut.”

“Are you supposed to be the Pagan God of Destruction or something?”

“Please, Ned, we don’t humor that garbage in this brain of ours. I’m something a little more… nefarious than that.”

“You’re just a hallucination. Nothing more.”

“Really? I always felt more like… I dunno, an avatar. Of you. The real you.”

“You’re just a voice in my head coming from a drug.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, but we both know I’m not. You’ve heard my voice before, Ned. On the mountain. You’ve seen me in your dreams. I’m up here, too, albeit, biding my time. But this is what you really are, Ned. I don’t have to compel you or tempt you. You’ll prove it all in due time. The same way you’ll “miraculously” find the camp. Because you do have one thing special about you: me. And all I have to do is wait.”

“Are you finished?”

Ned kept walking forward, trying to get the voice to stop.

“Finish? I haven’t even started.”

Ned turned to look at the doppelganger, only to see empty desert. With a heavy inhale, he trekked across the cold, bluish sand beneath his feet until morning.

When he arrived back at DOD, Ned saw the horrified faces of the wrestlers there, absolutely shocked at the state he was in. He fell to the ground, Alexis tending to him immediately.

“Jesus Christ. Thank God you’re alive. We were so worried when we heard you got lost.”

“I… I didn’t get lost, Alexis.”

“...What?”

“He left me out there.”

“No… he-”

“Alexis,” Ned spoke, “I want my DOD title shot.”



The Silence stood across from Ned. Ned stared daggers into the faceless mask that housed the man who just tried to leave him for dead. The Janitor gave the sign and the makeshift bell was rung.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me before I hurt you?”

The Silence lived up to his name.

Shaking his head, Ned locked up with the man, doing his best with his limited upper body strength to wrestle him to the ground, but only being shoved away for his efforts. Kaye could still feel the fatigue in his body and mind. The words of the twisted version of himself rang through his head.

“This is what you really are, Ned. You’re going to prove it and I won’t even have to lift a finger.”

No.

The hesitation Ned gave in action left him open for a superkick straight into his jaw, knocking him back although he was still on his feet. Not for long, however, as Silence whipped himself into the ropes and speared Ned to the outside of the ring. He was never going to get used to the impact of falling upon the desert floor. Thankfully, Ned was able to recover quickly enough to hit Silence with The Notorious Knee before picking him up by his mask and tossing him back into the ring. Ned searched underneath the ring, finding a folded chair and shrugged, taking it. As he dipped up to enter the ring again, Silence jumped up, using the top rope as leverage and slammed his heels into the chair Ned was holding in front of his face. As the chair collided with his cheek, Ned fell back, hearing the count begin to hit eight. Forcing some strength, he got up and pulled himself back into the ring, exhausted as he might be.

Silence lifted Ned up for a scoop and a slam, forcing Ned’s stinging back onto the mat and hitting an elbow drop right on Kaye’s neck! Silence went for the pin.

1


Ned kicked out, face pressed against the mat as he gasped for breath, hearing Silence slip out of the ring and start grabbing new equipment again. Knowing what his opponent was capable of, Ned lifted himself up just in time to get a handful of thumb tacks thrown at his face. He was able to cover his eyes in time, but when they opened, the sight was anything but pleasant. Silence had set up a table on the outside of the ring and was pouring lighter fluid on it. With a single match, it lit up. The flames chilled Ned, causing him to gulp nervously. Seeing a chance to grab a weapon of his own, Ned hopped out of the ring to grab a kendo stick and prepared for the Silence’s next approach.

As Silence rushed at Ned, Kaye dodged, maneuvering himself so his back would face the fiery table. With a deep breath, he prepared for Silence’s next approach. Silence saw through Ned’s little preparation and retreated to outside of the ring once more, bringing back with him a sledgehammer. He rushed Ned, swinging the hammer to catch Ned’s chest and instead tore Ned’s defending kendo stick in two. Silence lunged at Ned, jabbing the hammer into Ned’s chest. Ned fell backwards, seeing Silence stand above him, raising the hammer high above his own head. In a moment of pure instinct, Ned slipped through his legs, narrowly avoiding the sledgehammer that was now lodged firmly in the ring, having broken through the wood beneath the mat.

The wrestlers of DOD stood in a sorrowful shock, appalled by what they just saw from their champion. Certainly, deathmatches weren’t safe, but they didn’t try to murder each other. Let alone this guest. Ned looked back at Silence, a rage building within him.

That was twice. Two times he had tried to kill Ned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kaye heard that twisted voice again.

“Make him regret failing twice.”

His body nearly moving on its own, each step calculated and effortless, Ned walked forth. Silence turned to face him, only to be met with a sight that caused even him to pause. Ned didn’t look like his passionate, fiery self. He was cold, determined, and focused only on The Silence. Ned superkicked Silence back before hitting a picture perfect hurricanrana on him. As Silence was down, Ned lifted up the sledgehammer and smashed the wooden handle over Silence’s own back. Kaye dropped himself back into the ropes, ignoring the pain, and hit the Notorious Knee right onto Silence’s mask, causing it to tear somewhat. The Silence was catapulted towards one of the turnbuckles. Ned easily lifted him up and hit him with a tornado DDT. As Silence did his best to retreat, he tripped over the hole he’d made in the ring when he tried to bludgeon Ned. Silence looked to ringside for an escape, but he only saw his own flaming table. He looked back and saw Ned standing right there, lifting him up and pushing him over the ropes, just barely holding onto Silence instead of letting him fall into the fire.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t let you burn.”

Silence looked at Ned and said nothing. But he did laugh. He laughed louder than everyone there had ever heard. Everyone… except for Ned Kaye.

He knew that laugh. Knew it all too well.

With Silence in his grasp, Ned ripped the mask off of his face to see his fears confirmed.

James Daggard. The AnarChrist.

“Jim…”

Daggard laughed repeatedly as his face was revealed.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ned. After all these years, you’ve still kept up the whole persona! The whole goody two shoes schtick! You’re never gonna fool me, fucker. I know what you are. What you really are!”

Ned looked over James’s face, seeing a scar on his right cheek, no doubt a result of Ned’s drunken, stupid wrath.

“You might trick them with that, but we both know you’re looking out for yourself! You just hurt people then run away when it’s inconvenient and you leave everybody else to fend for themselves! You just take and take and take, but you can’t hide from me! You can’t run from yourself!”

Ned looked down. All it took was one push to get him to shut up.

“Show them! SHOW THEM!”

Just one.

“Maybe when you kill me, I can fuck that bitch of yours in hell. Maybe she’d be interested.”

Ned dropped AnarChrist onto the mat, making sure he wouldn’t fall into the flames. Ned’s fists were clenched so tightly that his nails nearly cut into his palms.

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

Ned turned his back and walked out of the ring.

“You… you can’t do that!”

He walked towards Alexis as the countout began behind him.

“I’m gonna grab my things real quick. My car still where it was.”

She nodded, dodging eye contact with him.

“Thanks.”

“COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME COWARD!”

James screamed out, close to tears in the ring.

“You think you can keep this up forever, but you’re wrong, Ned! Soon you’ll know what this feels like! Soon you’ll get what you fucking deserve! Your time’s gonna come, you hear me!?”

Ned walked towards his car with his things, keeping his breath steady.

“Your time is gonna come, Ned Kaye!”



Lying, Cheating, Hurting
That’s All You Seem To Do


“We all face a lot of choices in our lives, but one of the most fundamental is whether to succumb to our worst selves. It’s easy to, certainly. Nobody respects the well-restrained because it’s an easy trait to come by. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s not always easy to know what your better self is or how you can even live up to that ideal, but it’s always worth trying. I believe that. And I don’t think Robbie Bourbon does.”

“Robbie is always looking for an excuse to be his worst self. He doesn’t care about how it reflects on him. He doesn’t care if someone sees his awful behavior and imitates it. It makes Bourbon feel good, so he does it. I could never be Robbie’s greatest rival because discipline has that spot under lock and key. But what I can be is his greatest comeuppance. That’s what I plan to be.”

“I have fought long in this industry to prove myself. To get people to understand that I mean it when I say I am the future. To mean it every time I say it. You’re not getting in the way of that. I’ve fought men and women worth twice your weight in gold and I didn’t give them my all to give you half and let you effortlessly retain. I am going to punish you for thinking there’s any kind of people out there that belong underneath your boot. Your sins have piled up far too high to ignore and judgement day is ever so close. And when I beat you. When I show you what I’m made of and that it’s stiffer stuff than you could ever dream to be, then you’ll understand. That’s why you know my name. That’s why I’m the Hart Champion. I’ve got nothing to run from. I’ve got everything to overcome. That’s when I am my most dangerous Robbie. Prepare to see what happens when the sun casts its light over the horizon. The same thing that happens when a megazord fights an avatar of evil. The very same thing that happens when you light a fire in the cold, cold night.”

“Everything gets a bit brighter.”


SPECIAL THANKS TO
-You for reading.
-My cousin for helping me out with the chess match segments that I'll finish later.
-And everyone who has ever given me tips on battling writer's block.
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OOC: Formatting this beast is going to be a pain so I am posting it a little early unformatted and finishing without the threat of DQ breathing down my neck.

Continued from: My Mortal Soul



“We’ve got a visitor.”

The wrestlers of DOD flocked around the guest, shocked to see a new face after all this time. They were an odd bunch of folks, but they all seemed unique and full of promise in their own right, even if it was being wasted a bit out here. A woman wearing overly elaborate leather was the first to approach Ned.

“Welcome to our little oasis in the desert. They refer to me as the Mistress of Mayhem. Do I recognize you from anywhere?”

“Maybe. I’m Ned Kaye. I’ve been around a lot in the indies and the-”

“XWF,” another woman spoke up. Her hair was a silvery blonde and she spoke with a shyer voice than he might expect from her.

“I’ve seen a few of your matches. Alexis Storm, nice to meet ya.”

“Same to you.”

The man with the mop and bucket vigorously shook Ned’s hand, smiling widely.

“They call me The Janitor. There’s not a mess I can’t clean up given enough time.”

Ned returned the shake, only to be met with two more by two ridiculous looking men with dollar signs all over their attire, one wearing torn, old clothes, the other in a suit that had no place being this close to the desert outside of Vegas.

“A warm welcome from myself, Millions and-”

“And Billions! We’d love to do some business with you if you get the time.”

“Sure, I’ll-uh, think about it!”

A large man walked up to Ned, towering over him before gesturing towards the ring.

“Name’s John Stone. Friends call me The Necromancer. You ready to go?”

“To… go? Like a match?”

Necromancer nodded once.

“I just got here!”

“That’s how we treat all newcomers, darling! We have a big old gauntlet and if you can last, you may face our champion and get a shot at our beautiful title!”

“Champion, who’s the-”

Ned was cut off by the arrival of the DOD Champion who held the title with a tight grip in his hands. His name was written on his attire: The Silence. He wore a pitch black mask with silver accents. He had a look to be reckoned with, but Ned didn’t feel too interested in facing him.

“You ready?”

“I don’t know about facing anybody for the belt, but…”

“You’re on!”

Ned rushed into the ring and prepared himself for the gauntlet.



The afterglow of Ned’s victories was short-lived, leaving him wincing and inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as he laid in the small room they had offered him in one of the spare trailers. Stretched out face first upon the bed, he did his best to keep his wits about him despite the agonizing feeling strung across his spine. It had been hardly noticeable with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but once that all wore off and he had calmed down, it all came hitting its hardest at once. This pain was near the worst he’d ever felt, the light tube’s remnants peppered across his back. Sure, he’d gotten hit with chairs and the occasional thumbtacks in his career, but this was something else. An entirely different beast Ned was determined to slay. Because if he could survive this, he was ready. It was his time. He focused on the match. On the man he had to humble. With an exasperated, quiet whisper, he uttered the name.

“Robbie Bourbon.”

That’s why he was here. Ned had to prove that BoB couldn’t just run roughshod while people suffered and were beaten. To remind everyone that the wrath of the gentle wasn’t something to be trifled with. That he belonged shoulder to shoulder with champions like he had always promised. His time. He always told about his time and how it would eventually come, but he was through waiting. Ned was going to make this bold new era happen now! An era where the Hart Title would be defended with honor and respect. A time he wished his father could be here to see. He’d make it happen! Ned went to stand!

Holding back a large cry of pain, he regretted the decision to attempt to get on his feet immediately, reaching to hold his back before remembering why he likely shouldn’t. Burying his face back in the blanket beneath him, he was taken off-gaurd by a knock on the door. Weighing his options, he eventually just called out to whoever was knocking.

“Come in. I’m not really in the position to get up right now.”

The door opened, Alexis Storm walking in with a medical bag at her side.

“Well, look at you, winner,” she teased.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s up?”

“I was gonna help patch you up a bit. You looked beat to shit after that gauntlet. ‘Sides, it’s kinda what I do normally.”

“That’s fine. Uh… thanks.”

“No problem,” she replied, stepping over to the bed and beginning to inspect his back. Her stunned silence didn’t grow much confidence in Ned.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t wrestle deathmatches too often, do you?”

“Today was my first day.”

“Seriously? It certainly looked like you had at least some experience. Even when you were worn at the end, you still pulled off a pretty decisive victory. In a gauntlet, that’s rare. Only seen one other fella do it.”

“The Silence, right?”

“He’s good. Best wrestler I’ve ever seen. Says he’s faced people from companies big and small alike and always made his impact on ‘em.”

“I’d certainly like to face him, but I don’t know how good I feel about challenging for the DOD Championship when I know I won’t be sticking around for too long.”

“You should at least ask. He might stick to the persona a lot, but it means a lot to him. Every person here has been helped in some way by him. He helped pay some of the debts Cash Money owed. He got Jani out of some bad business back in his hometown. Hell, he helped me with my trauma and paid for a therapist. I didn’t go, but, hey, he paid. We owe a lot to that guy. I see a lot of you in him, honestly.”

Ned smiled slightly, immediately tensing up as he felt her hands on his back.

“Calm down. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I-I know. I’m just… tense.”

“I can tell. Could you try and relax? Maybe you could tell me about some of the stuff you did back when you were riding in the indies?”

“Honestly, I’d like to, but I only remember bits and pieces. And the bits I do remember aren’t particularly flattering.”

“Please, hun, flattering histories aren’t exactly a mainstay of Dee Oh Dee.”

With a small laugh, Ned went to the first memory on his mind. One that had been lingering for a few weeks.

“I used to wrestle in this place called Access. I was a highlight of the roster according to my peers, but it was during my worst stint with alcohol. Right after my fiance had died.”

“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I appreciate it. Anyway, I had been hitting the bottle a lot before a title match I had with a fellow called AnarChrist.”

“AnarChrist? God, that’s cheesy!”

“And The Silence isn’t?”

“Touche. Continue.”

“Well, the guy’s real name was James Daggard. And one night he had to go out there and cut a promo on me. Well, he insulted my fiance and said generally awful stuff.”

“Jesus. What did you do?”


Seeing Jim through the thin window of the hospital door brought an uneasy sensation to Ned’s chest. He was hopeful it was just the booze, but that lie was short-lived even to his fogged mind. He looked at the back of his knuckles, seeing the smeared blood painted upon his hands. It was pungent and cold against his skin. Everything else in the hospital was clean, a sterile haven free from the kind of dirt and grime Ned could feel caked upon every inch of his being. He had tried to wipe away the sensation, but it refused to simply pass. It was a filth that seemed to have its roots in Ned, merely sinking deeper the more he tried to scrub himself down. No matter how hard he pressed the rags and towels against his hands, he felt the same. The blood wouldn’t leave his hands, only smear.

A voice broke his concentration.

“I think you’d oughta move.”

He turned to face the source, seeing the owner of the indie he’d been mainly working at these past few years.

“I doubt the first thing he’d want to see when he woke up would be you, kid.”

“Neil, I-”

“Don’t you fucking “Neil” me.”

Neil Acosta took out a cigarette and contemplated trying to give it a smoke, but decided against the hassle with the staff.

“Our biggest champion is out of commission because you couldn’t keep your goddamn wits about you. Do you realize how much that sets us back?”

“I know, please let me explain myself.”

Acosta shook his head dismissively.

“That ship has long sailed. What is this, Ned? The fourth time you’ve done something stupid while drinking? Or was it the fifth? Oh, wait, you didn’t almost kill somebody the last however many fucking times!”

“Did you hear what he was saying about Lilian?”

“Yeah, Ned, I heard it! And it was awful and we were gonna reprimand him after the show, but we can’t quite do that, now can we?”

Ned stayed quiet, swallowing a poorly thought rebuttal.

“Do you know how excited I was to get you in here, kid? I thought you were the future! I thought you were gonna be somebody! I was talking you up to all of the owners I knew! I got you work, Ned! That was my reputation, too, when you did something stupid! This is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry. I-... I can do better.”

“No. You can’t. I want you to succeed, kid, but you’re a liability. I don’t care where you go, but it ain’t gonna be here, kid.”

Shrugging disappointedly, Neil lit his cigarette and headed for an exit door.

“You wanted to be notorious? Congrats.”


“Jeez.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I can’t believe that you keep doing this after all that stuff. I can’t imagine trying to mourn and overcome addiction and still coming out to get the shit kicked out of me.”

Ned tried to shrug, wincing through the pain.

“It’s… it’s what I have to do. Part of me wants to settle down and try something more traditional, but every time that I do, I end up back here somehow. I love wrestling. Not the fame, limited as mine may be. Not the money or status. This is one of the only things I can really take pride in. That I can enjoy. I’ve performed in front of crowds of thousands and amongst no one else but my opponent and it still always invigorates me. I feel more focused in the ring. In a world where I constantly find myself uncertain or lost following a tragedy, wrestling is like home: I can always come back. I’ve put myself through hell and back just to do this. That’s why I came here. The wrestlers I’m around are celebrities, businessmen, or at least have a side gig. But at DOD… it’s as if I’m surrounded by people I can relate to on at least one level. Everyone here wrestles the most dangerous style in the business in front of their peers just to prove they’re the best. They’re not looking for personal benefit. It’s about the sport. Wrestling is my life and you all get that.”

Alexis chuckled a bit, still carefully removing the glass bits from Ned’s back.

“I don’t think you’re right, Neddy.”

“Hm?”

“I think most of us stay here because this is the only family we’ve ever known. You… you have somewhere else to go. We don’t. To be honest, I don’t know why anybody would bother wasting away out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere when they could be with the people they love.”

She shook her head, sighing.

“It kinda feels like you’re running from that, Neddy. We’d all kill to be in your position. And, if we were, you sure as hell wouldn’t find us in the desert.”

Ned tried to give a half-hearted laugh, but her response just made him feel more solace. Just further isolated in the grand scheme of the universe.

“But maybe there’s one guy here who’ll get you.”

His ears perked.

“Silence. That guy might keep his mouth shut most of the time, but when he does talk, he’s the most passionate guy you’ll ever hear! If anybody could help you, I think he could. I couldn’t tell you how many times one of us has been in a rough spot and a car ride with ol’ Silence hasn’t helped. You should really ask him!”

Ned’s face tightened as Storm released a particularly well-entrenched shard from his back.

“I think I will.”


The Light I’m Chasing


"Man of the People."

"It's a designation that carries a lot of weight. An honor that thousands of people have fought long and hard for. Some longer than others. In those respects, it’s much like the Hart title. And in the same way, despite all of those who have poured their ambition and life into the pursuit, it has been ruthlessly acquired by Robbie Bourbon, now going by Bobby just so he can associate with this brand for a few months before switching back. And if you think for even a passing second that Bourbon has even the smallest morsel of respect for either of them, then you didn’t watch the promo he cut on me. For some of you, that might have been a surprise, but for me? It’s deja vu.”

“I mean, for all of his posturing about me taking his title shot earlier this year, he seems to forget that he was in the Leap of Faith match where that very same briefcase was on the line. If he was such a big man, he could have put that effort and fought me then. But he didn’t. Robbie, don’t talk about what someone does or doesn’t deserve when you toss your boons away like they’re a bad habit. You want to underestimate me? Be my guest. I don’t need or want your approval. I’m not here to humor your inane claims about the content of my character. I’m here for your title. You can’t pay me to go away. Your friends in BoB don’t think you need help, but you desperately do. Because even if I walk out of there a challenger on another day, I plan on making it as painful as possible for you. I’ve long spoken about standing to be a fiery beacon of justice and there is no better time to prove how scorching I can get.”

“Here’s a tidbit, Robbie. I’m going to slap you across the face during our match. Once with my left hand. That’s for Ruby and everyone you and BoB ever hurt to further your own ends because none of you were strong enough to do it fairly. Then I’m going to slap you with my right hand. That’s for Barney and anyone else that you have sold an empty lie to, only for the hopes that you can profit off of their kind heartedness. Then I’m going to kick you right in your jaw. That’s for me, Robbie. So you don’t forget to take me seriously next time.”

“I’ve had to hear so many people bring up my past as a reason to discredit me. As if I wasn’t well aware enough of what happened. As if anything you say isn’t something I’ve already heard from in front of a mirror. I’m not worried about having the strength or willpower to beat you, Robbie, I’m in the tough position of channeling it. Of seeing if the blade is honed enough to cut through the hide of BoB’s dragon. Can I do it? That’s what everyone’s always wondered about me. If I can cut it at that level. If everything everyone saw in me was justified or not. I’ve spent countless nights looking at the ceiling pondering the same question. But you know what? I shouldn’t even ask it because you’ve been a champion Robbie and I’ve done something you haven’t: I’ve always put my best foot forward, even if my best wasn’t much. Even in my most infamous defeat, I dragged myself through a blizzard to make it there. You barely drag yourself out of bed to cut a promo. We are not alike, you and I. You talk about representing the people, but you do it from behind your cushy apartments and you’re constantly looking for another way to nickel and dime those who admire you. You’d sell their admiration for pennies on the dollar if you felt that would benefit you the most. But that’s not me. I might have my face on a bottle of shampoo, but it’s the product I use, even if I’m 99% certain they put something weird in there. It doesn’t matter because it works and if I’m going to have my face or name on something, I make sure it means something. Because I was never assured popularity. I was gifted it and I will never forget or forsake that generosity. And I would face you as many more times as I have to if that meant protecting my goodwill with the fans who made my entry into this company, my dream job, possible.”

“And when I do face you again, which I inevitably will after I’ve run through every last member of BoB and Chaotic Inc. and whatever other groups of opportunistic bastards looking to harm people for their own enjoyment arises in the meantime, I’ll have that belt and your Man of the People designation and you’ll have your muscles and a grudge. That’s what I’m going to leave you with, Bourbon. I’m not here to just beat you. I’m here to make an example of you. I want to show you how much those people you overlook when it doesn’t line your pockets matter. I’ll be the one to deliver that humility upon you. I want everyone to know that you could be my polar opposite, you could exemplify the traits that are hardest for me to overcome and I still will decimate you if I have to. So, at least lift a weight, Bourbon. Crack a joke at my expense. Pose next to a cardboard cutout of me and run your mouth. What I’m saying is have some fun with that belt while you still can. God knows you’ll need the memories.”


Ned sat in the car with The Silence, both staying relatively quiet.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re headed?”

For the first time, Silence actually spoke up.

“It’s a good place to meditate. It’ll clear your mind.”

Ned hesitated a moment. The voice had an odd ring to it. Before he could give it much thought, Silence added to his statement.

“How’d you like that tea I gave you, by the way?”

“It was fine, but definitely tasted medicinal, if you know what I mean.”

“Just one of its properties.”

Ned’s head had begun to feel increasingly odd as time had passed. He kept trying to shake the feeling off, but it was a creeping demon of sorts.

“What was in that… tea?”

“It’s time to get out, Ned.”

Without thinking about it too much, Ned stepped out of the vehicle. As soon as he was out, he realized something was very, very wrong with his state of mind. There was an aura to everything that Ned didn’t typically feel. It was all increasingly worrisome.

“Enjoy,” said Silence before he sped off into the night, leaving Ned out in the middle of nowhere. Alone.


The chilled nocturnal gusts rushed past Ned. Everything felt weightless and yet glued together to him. As he took each step, the mere act of holding himself up became more difficult, an awful pain building in his stomach. After a few steps, he fell to his knees, feeling the pressure in him reach a fiery zenith, ultimately retching out onto the dry, cracked sand beneath him. The haziness in his mind intensified, his thoughts both racing and colliding within his head. Ned did his best to focus as the desert floor warped and twisted underneath his hand, the gentle moonlight reflecting his face in his own vomit. It was a contorted, devilish visage that Ned tried to block out by closing his eyes, but it only made the face more clear. The exaggerated features a nightmarish distortion; its smile stretching well beyond what his face should allow. Gulping, Ned got up and kept looking forward. He tried to focus on one thing. A name. He could focus on a name.

“Robbie Bourbon.”

That’s why he came here. He wasn’t about to die in the middle of nowhere on his own. He was going to fight for the Hart Title and go home and win. He could do it, he just had to focus.

He wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours when he began to see a vision out of the corner of his eye. It was twisted and warped. As he focused on it more, he could see the silhouette of The Engineer, or so he thought. The more it warped, the more it resembled the vision in his dreams. The more it became himself. Eventually, it stopped just tagging along in the corner of his eye and began to visibly walk alongside him. Kaye tried to ignore it. Just chalk it up as hallucination. But it wouldn’t go away. No matter how hard he attempted to dissipate it with disbelief, the vision stayed close at his side. Eventually, it began to speak.

“He must’ve been very stupid to trifle with us. He doesn't know how bad you want to hurt him.”

Although Ned would never want to admit it, he had an urge to hurt Silence after drugging him and dropping him off in the middle of the desert. He tried to focus on something less grim, but the thought kept coming to mind.

“Do you think he knows how badly he’s fucked? Maybe he wants to test us.”

“There’s no us. You’re not real.”

“I’m not?”

The vision looked at the back of its hands indignantly.

“Well, that’d be a shame. After all this time, I thought I was real, but I suppose just because you said so, I’m not. Then again, you said you wouldn’t come back after losing your Uni shot, so what you say doesn’t hold much weight, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just telling you what we know. What you know. We’re both well aware that you’re just the act. The persona that’s hiding the real you. Or the real me, if you’d prefer.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh? How would you know?”

Ned hesitated, uncertain how to answer.

“Exactly.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to remember the way back.”

“No, you’re not. Even in this sorry state, you know the way back. You just want to know if you’re strong enough to do what’s necessary. You’re not, but the more you try, the closer I am to my big stage debut.”

“Are you supposed to be the Pagan God of Destruction or something?”

“Please, Ned, we don’t humor that garbage in this brain of ours. I’m something a little more… nefarious than that.”

“You’re just a hallucination. Nothing more.”

“Really? I always felt more like… I dunno, an avatar. Of you. The real you.”

“You’re just a voice in my head coming from a drug.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, but we both know I’m not. You’ve heard my voice before, Ned. On the mountain. You’ve seen me in your dreams. I’m up here, too, albeit, biding my time. But this is what you really are, Ned. I don’t have to compel you or tempt you. You’ll prove it all in due time. The same way you’ll “miraculously” find the camp. Because you do have one thing special about you: me. And all I have to do is wait.”

“Are you finished?”

Ned kept walking forward, trying to get the voice to stop.

“Finish? I haven’t even started.”

Ned turned to look at the doppelganger, only to see empty desert. With a heavy inhale, he trekked across the cold, bluish sand beneath his feet until morning.

When he arrived back at DOD, Ned saw the horrified faces of the wrestlers there, absolutely shocked at the state he was in. He fell to the ground, Alexis tending to him immediately.

“Jesus Christ. Thank God you’re alive. We were so worried when we heard you got lost.”

“I… I didn’t get lost, Alexis.”

“...What?”

“He left me out there.”

“No… he-”

“Alexis,” Ned spoke, “I want my DOD title shot.”



The Silence stood across from Ned. Ned stared daggers into the faceless mask that housed the man who just tried to leave him for dead. The Janitor gave the sign and the makeshift bell was rung.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me before I hurt you?”

The Silence lived up to his name.

Shaking his head, Ned locked up with the man, doing his best with his limited upper body strength to wrestle him to the ground, but only being shoved away for his efforts. Kaye could still feel the fatigue in his body and mind. The words of the twisted version of himself rang through his head.

“This is what you really are, Ned. You’re going to prove it and I won’t even have to lift a finger.”

No.

The hesitation Ned gave in action left him open for a superkick straight into his jaw, knocking him back although he was still on his feet. Not for long, however, as Silence whipped himself into the ropes and speared Ned to the outside of the ring. He was never going to get used to the impact of falling upon the desert floor. Thankfully, Ned was able to recover quickly enough to hit Silence with The Notorious Knee before picking him up by his mask and tossing him back into the ring. Ned searched underneath the ring, finding a folded chair and shrugged, taking it. As he dipped up to enter the ring again, Silence jumped up, using the top rope as leverage and slammed his heels into the chair Ned was holding in front of his face. As the chair collided with his cheek, Ned fell back, hearing the count begin to hit eight. Forcing some strength, he got up and pulled himself back into the ring, exhausted as he might be.

Silence lifted Ned up for a scoop and a slam, forcing Ned’s stinging back onto the mat and hitting an elbow drop right on Kaye’s neck! Silence went for the pin.

1


Ned kicked out, face pressed against the mat as he gasped for breath, hearing Silence slip out of the ring and start grabbing new equipment again. Knowing what his opponent was capable of, Ned lifted himself up just in time to get a handful of thumb tacks thrown at his face. He was able to cover his eyes in time, but when they opened, the sight was anything but pleasant. Silence had set up a table on the outside of the ring and was pouring lighter fluid on it. With a single match, it lit up. The flames chilled Ned, causing him to gulp nervously. Seeing a chance to grab a weapon of his own, Ned hopped out of the ring to grab a kendo stick and prepared for the Silence’s next approach.

As Silence rushed at Ned, Kaye dodged, maneuvering himself so his back would face the fiery table. With a deep breath, he prepared for Silence’s next approach. Silence saw through Ned’s little preparation and retreated to outside of the ring once more, bringing back with him a sledgehammer. He rushed Ned, swinging the hammer to catch Ned’s chest and instead tore Ned’s defending kendo stick in two. Silence lunged at Ned, jabbing the hammer into Ned’s chest. Ned fell backwards, seeing Silence stand above him, raising the hammer high above his own head. In a moment of pure instinct, Ned slipped through his legs, narrowly avoiding the sledgehammer that was now lodged firmly in the ring, having broken through the wood beneath the mat.

The wrestlers of DOD stood in a sorrowful shock, appalled by what they just saw from their champion. Certainly, deathmatches weren’t safe, but they didn’t try to murder each other. Let alone this guest. Ned looked back at Silence, a rage building within him.

That was twice. Two times he had tried to kill Ned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kaye heard that twisted voice again.

“Make him regret failing twice.”

His body nearly moving on its own, each step calculated and effortless, Ned walked forth. Silence turned to face him, only to be met with a sight that caused even him to pause. Ned didn’t look like his passionate, fiery self. He was cold, determined, and focused only on The Silence. Ned superkicked Silence back before hitting a picture perfect hurricanrana on him. As Silence was down, Ned lifted up the sledgehammer and smashed the wooden handle over Silence’s own back. Kaye dropped himself back into the ropes, ignoring the pain, and hit the Notorious Knee right onto Silence’s mask, causing it to tear somewhat. The Silence was catapulted towards one of the turnbuckles. Ned easily lifted him up and hit him with a tornado DDT. As Silence did his best to retreat, he tripped over the hole he’d made in the ring when he tried to bludgeon Ned. Silence looked to ringside for an escape, but he only saw his own flaming table. He looked back and saw Ned standing right there, lifting him up and pushing him over the ropes, just barely holding onto Silence instead of letting him fall into the fire.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t let you burn.”

Silence looked at Ned and said nothing. But he did laugh. He laughed louder than everyone there had ever heard. Everyone… except for Ned Kaye.

He knew that laugh. Knew it all too well.

With Silence in his grasp, Ned ripped the mask off of his face to see his fears confirmed.

James Daggard. The AnarChrist.

“Jim…”

Daggard laughed repeatedly as his face was revealed.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ned. After all these years, you’ve still kept up the whole persona! The whole goody two shoes schtick! You’re never gonna fool me, fucker. I know what you are. What you really are!”

Ned looked over James’s face, seeing a scar on his right cheek, no doubt a result of Ned’s drunken, stupid wrath.

“You might trick them with that, but we both know you’re looking out for yourself! You just hurt people then run away when it’s inconvenient and you leave everybody else to fend for themselves! You just take and take and take, but you can’t hide from me! You can’t run from yourself!”

Ned looked down. All it took was one push to get him to shut up.

“Show them! SHOW THEM!”

Just one.

“Maybe when you kill me, I can fuck that bitch of yours in hell. Maybe she’d be interested.”

Ned dropped AnarChrist onto the mat, making sure he wouldn’t fall into the flames. Ned’s fists were clenched so tightly that his nails nearly cut into his palms.

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

Ned turned his back and walked out of the ring.

“You… you can’t do that!”

He walked towards Alexis as the countout began behind him.

“I’m gonna grab my things real quick. My car still where it was.”

She nodded, dodging eye contact with him.

“Thanks.”

“COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME COWARD!”

James screamed out, close to tears in the ring.

“You think you can keep this up forever, but you’re wrong, Ned! Soon you’ll know what this feels like! Soon you’ll get what you fucking deserve! Your time’s gonna come, you hear me!?”

Ned walked towards his car with his things, keeping his breath steady.

“Your time is gonna come, Ned Kaye!”



Lying, Cheating, Hurting
That’s All You Seem To Do


“We all face a lot of choices in our lives, but one of the most fundamental is whether to succumb to our worst selves. It’s easy to, certainly. Nobody respects the well-restrained because it’s an easy trait to come by. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s not always easy to know what your better self is or how you can even live up to that ideal, but it’s always worth trying. I believe that. And I don’t think Robbie Bourbon does.”

“Robbie is always looking for an excuse to be his worst self. He doesn’t care about how it reflects on him. He doesn’t care if someone sees his awful behavior and imitates it. It makes Bourbon feel good, so he does it. I could never be Robbie’s greatest rival because discipline has that spot under lock and key. But what I can be is his greatest comeuppance. That’s what I plan to be.”

“I have fought long in this industry to prove myself. To get people to understand that I mean it when I say I am the future. To mean it every time I say it. You’re not getting in the way of that. I’ve fought men and women worth twice your weight in gold and I didn’t give them my all to give you half and let you effortlessly retain. I am going to punish you for thinking there’s any kind of people out there that belong underneath your boot. Your sins have piled up far too high to ignore and judgement day is ever so close. And when I beat you. When I show you what I’m made of and that it’s stiffer stuff than you could ever dream to be, then you’ll understand. That’s why you know my name. That’s why I’m the Hart Champion. I’ve got nothing to run from. I’ve got everything to overcome. That’s when I am my most dangerous Robbie. Prepare to see what happens when the sun casts its light over the horizon. The same thing that happens when a megazord fights an avatar of evil. The very same thing that happens when you light a fire in the cold, cold night.”

“Everything gets a bit brighter.”


SPECIAL THANKS TO
-You for reading.
-My cousin for helping me out with the chess match segments that I'll finish later.
-And everyone who has ever given me tips on battling writer's block.
]]> <![CDATA[Charlie's Thanksgiving]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39021 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:51:23 -0800 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39021 Pass the potatoes please, Connie.

The shot opens with Charlie Nickles sitting at the head of his dining room table looking down at the empty eating mat in front of him. A hodgepodge of empty bowls and plates are strewn across the table. Three scarecrows sit around the table. One of the scarecrows is considerably larger than the two scarecrows it is seated across from. The human sized scarecrow is adorned in a low-cut red dress, black heels, and a brown wig. The other two scarecrows are dressed in XWF onesies. Charlie turns his gaze to the largest scarecrow.

Connie, I said pass the potatoes.

Charlie narrowed his eyes and titled his eyebrows as a thunderous silence echoed throughout the room. His gaze stayed fixed on the wigged scarecrow.

Did you hear me, bitch?

The scarecrow was unresponsive. Charlie's rage began to bubble to the surface. He brought his hands up to the edge of the tabletop, gripping it with malice as his eyes turned into iron sights and his tongue turned into a barrel. The proverbial bullets flew as sweat begin to drip down the champion's forehead.

You cunt! You always do this! You always ruin our family time! You think you're setting a good fucking example for the kids, telling them to disobey their father? HUH?! YOU BITCH!

Charlie flipped the table over, smashing the window on the far wall of his dining room with the tabletop that was firmly in his sweaty grasp just a few moments ago. He pointed a finger at the largest scarecrow as he flew into another drugged out rant.

You bet your ass you're sorry! Sorry you made me do this to you again!

Charlie charged at the scarecrow with his right foot extended, booting it in the face with major force. The scarecrow, chair and all, slammed against the wall before falling to the ground defeated. Charlie turned around to confront his sobbing scarecrow children.

You want to cry? You want me to give you something to cry about?!

Charlie raised his right fist and walked towards the scarecrow children. With each step he took his rage diminished. By the time he to the children, his fury had subsided and his senses had come back. He brought his fist to his waist as he sighed softly. He looked set to apologize before an idea popped into his head, totally shifting his demeanor. A smile spread across his busted face.

Don't worry- we still have pumpkin pies, kids! I made them just for us!

Charlie walked back towards the kitchen with some pip to his step. The camera followed him as we saw three mini pumpkin pies cooling on the window sill. Charlie approached the pies with a warmth in his features and a hunger in his belly. He reached out for the pies when, all of a sudden, a cat jumped onto the window sill and snatched the pies, knocking two of them to the ground while gripping another in it's mouth by the rim! The cat looked pretty fucking weird, even to Charlie's methed out ass. It was an inconsistent shade of pink with white patches scattered throughout it's body. Dried blood had caked into the fur around the feline's mouth. Fresh blood was dripping from it's claws. He jumped off the windowsill, pie in mouth.

YOU RAT BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!

Charlie jumped through the window after the cat. His fat waistline busted the frame of the window. Splintered pieces of wood followed Charlie out of the open window. Charlie reached out with his left hand, blindly grabbing for whatever he could.

MROOOOOOOW!

Charlie yanked the cat by it's tail as the pie fell to the ground facedown. Charlie stood to his feet, holding the spray painted cat upside down by it's tail as it squirmed and meowed. It tried to claw at Charlie, but it's pink little arms were simply to short. Charlie spat on the cat as he began to walk towards his garage. He shook it around a little bit, delighting in the cat's misery.

You're a lucky cocksucker, you know that? Not very many cats get to be put down by a champion!

Charlie approached the garage door with a grin. He swung the cat, HARD, against the garage door. Not once. Not twice. Three whole ass times. The cat's meows of pain grew softer and more vulnerable with each mighty blow. A trembling voice shot out from directly behind the camera.

What the fuuuuuuuccck, dude! Stop! I'm not filming this! YOU'RE FUCKED!

Charlie paid no mind to the shriveling vegan doing camera work for the federation. He slammed the red and pink cat against the garage door once more before bending down to open the door and grant himself access to his joint wrasslin and butcherin studio.

Jesus Christ!

The cameraman turns around and runs from the demented scene. The camera shakes as it fades out on the setting sun hanging lowly over Steubenville.

[Image: FUZZYTV045.jpg]

We cut back to see Charlie in handcuffs, sitting dejectedly in the back of a police car. The footage that is seen is from the dash cam of the cop car. The police officer is a burly black man with a distinctly Morgan Freeman-esque voice.

Man, you're a wild son of a bitch, Charlie.

Fuck you, pig.

Hey now, tubs, if you treat pigs like you treat cats then you just verbalized a felony threat. Look, if you can get my son a Johnny Legend autograph, I'll think about letting it slide. That motherfucker is hilarious. Next TV champion, for sure. Shit, just look at the odds!

He's not winning shit! That dimwitted icicle only has one dimension and he isn't even bringing it to the show. Homeboy can't stand and bang with me in a last man standing match. No fucking way! Bet your whole fucking house on him so you and your thug family can feel what it's like to live under a bridge and beg for table scraps.

So you a fucking racist, huh, tough guy? Thug? I'm an officer of the law. YOU are a criminal. I should pull this car over and beat your ass.

I'm not a racist. I voted for Jo!

Biden?

Jorgenson! She said she would legalize meth!


Jesus fucking Christ...


The cop car rolled into the garage of the local precinct, rumbling along the concrete ground before coming to a stop. The cop opened his door before coming around to the other side. He opened Charlie's door only to receive a kick to the balls and some spit to the eyes! The cop fell over as he moaned in pain. Charlie ducked out of the car and booked it for the exit. He made it halfway there before being tackled by a half dozen officer's, all waiting for the chance to do another Rodney King. The batons came out and the beating came down. Shrieks of pain were heard as four more officers jumped into the fray with their batons, whooping the shit and piss figuratively and literally out of our beloved television champion. Then, a booming voice echoed throughout the precinct's parking garage.

ENOUGH!

The officer's begrudgingly concluded their beating, landing just a few more shots before packing their batons away and stepping back from the innocent-until-prove-guilty man laying on the ground. Two men approached him, walking side by side. One man is considerably taller and larger than the other. He is dressed from head to toe in a police chief's uniform. He looks just like the great khali. The man walking besides him is scrawny and pale skinned, with red hair and freckles. His eyes shine olive green. He is wearing casual slacks and a green polo. He's a bit young in the face and his clothing looks a bit baggy, almost as if they were hand me downs. The police chief stops walking as he addresses his boys in blue. The scrawny looking ginger in the baggy clothes, however, continues to walk to Charlie.

We have to cut this fool loose this time. Mayor's orders. I know, I know...but it's out of my hands.

The police chief attempts to delicately explain the finer politics of the situation as the ginger kneels before Charlie, holding out a white business card. Handcuffed Charlie, of course, can not reach out and grab the card...but he can still read the fine print on it. There are a few jet black letters in the upper left corner of this eggshell card.

Biyobi Consulting and Management, at your service.


Wh-what? I..I don't got money for a lawyer!


It's all expenses paid. Totally pro bono. We're here to work for you, Charles, and make sure you're taken care of. You have friends over here at Biyobi Management and Consulting. Let us show you what we can do for you.

The ginger turns and snaps at the police officers assembled in the garage.

Get this man out of these cuffs! He has a limousine waiting out front for him. And go grab a few of the hookers you got jailed up in the back and bring em around for the big fella over here. It's the least you can do to repay this clear and flagrant brutality. You don't want the mayor finding out you went against Biyobi now, do you?

The smug ginger smiled at the police chief as the scene faded to black for good this time.

]]> Pass the potatoes please, Connie.

The shot opens with Charlie Nickles sitting at the head of his dining room table looking down at the empty eating mat in front of him. A hodgepodge of empty bowls and plates are strewn across the table. Three scarecrows sit around the table. One of the scarecrows is considerably larger than the two scarecrows it is seated across from. The human sized scarecrow is adorned in a low-cut red dress, black heels, and a brown wig. The other two scarecrows are dressed in XWF onesies. Charlie turns his gaze to the largest scarecrow.

Connie, I said pass the potatoes.

Charlie narrowed his eyes and titled his eyebrows as a thunderous silence echoed throughout the room. His gaze stayed fixed on the wigged scarecrow.

Did you hear me, bitch?

The scarecrow was unresponsive. Charlie's rage began to bubble to the surface. He brought his hands up to the edge of the tabletop, gripping it with malice as his eyes turned into iron sights and his tongue turned into a barrel. The proverbial bullets flew as sweat begin to drip down the champion's forehead.

You cunt! You always do this! You always ruin our family time! You think you're setting a good fucking example for the kids, telling them to disobey their father? HUH?! YOU BITCH!

Charlie flipped the table over, smashing the window on the far wall of his dining room with the tabletop that was firmly in his sweaty grasp just a few moments ago. He pointed a finger at the largest scarecrow as he flew into another drugged out rant.

You bet your ass you're sorry! Sorry you made me do this to you again!

Charlie charged at the scarecrow with his right foot extended, booting it in the face with major force. The scarecrow, chair and all, slammed against the wall before falling to the ground defeated. Charlie turned around to confront his sobbing scarecrow children.

You want to cry? You want me to give you something to cry about?!

Charlie raised his right fist and walked towards the scarecrow children. With each step he took his rage diminished. By the time he to the children, his fury had subsided and his senses had come back. He brought his fist to his waist as he sighed softly. He looked set to apologize before an idea popped into his head, totally shifting his demeanor. A smile spread across his busted face.

Don't worry- we still have pumpkin pies, kids! I made them just for us!

Charlie walked back towards the kitchen with some pip to his step. The camera followed him as we saw three mini pumpkin pies cooling on the window sill. Charlie approached the pies with a warmth in his features and a hunger in his belly. He reached out for the pies when, all of a sudden, a cat jumped onto the window sill and snatched the pies, knocking two of them to the ground while gripping another in it's mouth by the rim! The cat looked pretty fucking weird, even to Charlie's methed out ass. It was an inconsistent shade of pink with white patches scattered throughout it's body. Dried blood had caked into the fur around the feline's mouth. Fresh blood was dripping from it's claws. He jumped off the windowsill, pie in mouth.

YOU RAT BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!

Charlie jumped through the window after the cat. His fat waistline busted the frame of the window. Splintered pieces of wood followed Charlie out of the open window. Charlie reached out with his left hand, blindly grabbing for whatever he could.

MROOOOOOOW!

Charlie yanked the cat by it's tail as the pie fell to the ground facedown. Charlie stood to his feet, holding the spray painted cat upside down by it's tail as it squirmed and meowed. It tried to claw at Charlie, but it's pink little arms were simply to short. Charlie spat on the cat as he began to walk towards his garage. He shook it around a little bit, delighting in the cat's misery.

You're a lucky cocksucker, you know that? Not very many cats get to be put down by a champion!

Charlie approached the garage door with a grin. He swung the cat, HARD, against the garage door. Not once. Not twice. Three whole ass times. The cat's meows of pain grew softer and more vulnerable with each mighty blow. A trembling voice shot out from directly behind the camera.

What the fuuuuuuuccck, dude! Stop! I'm not filming this! YOU'RE FUCKED!

Charlie paid no mind to the shriveling vegan doing camera work for the federation. He slammed the red and pink cat against the garage door once more before bending down to open the door and grant himself access to his joint wrasslin and butcherin studio.

Jesus Christ!

The cameraman turns around and runs from the demented scene. The camera shakes as it fades out on the setting sun hanging lowly over Steubenville.

[Image: FUZZYTV045.jpg]

We cut back to see Charlie in handcuffs, sitting dejectedly in the back of a police car. The footage that is seen is from the dash cam of the cop car. The police officer is a burly black man with a distinctly Morgan Freeman-esque voice.

Man, you're a wild son of a bitch, Charlie.

Fuck you, pig.

Hey now, tubs, if you treat pigs like you treat cats then you just verbalized a felony threat. Look, if you can get my son a Johnny Legend autograph, I'll think about letting it slide. That motherfucker is hilarious. Next TV champion, for sure. Shit, just look at the odds!

He's not winning shit! That dimwitted icicle only has one dimension and he isn't even bringing it to the show. Homeboy can't stand and bang with me in a last man standing match. No fucking way! Bet your whole fucking house on him so you and your thug family can feel what it's like to live under a bridge and beg for table scraps.

So you a fucking racist, huh, tough guy? Thug? I'm an officer of the law. YOU are a criminal. I should pull this car over and beat your ass.

I'm not a racist. I voted for Jo!

Biden?

Jorgenson! She said she would legalize meth!


Jesus fucking Christ...


The cop car rolled into the garage of the local precinct, rumbling along the concrete ground before coming to a stop. The cop opened his door before coming around to the other side. He opened Charlie's door only to receive a kick to the balls and some spit to the eyes! The cop fell over as he moaned in pain. Charlie ducked out of the car and booked it for the exit. He made it halfway there before being tackled by a half dozen officer's, all waiting for the chance to do another Rodney King. The batons came out and the beating came down. Shrieks of pain were heard as four more officers jumped into the fray with their batons, whooping the shit and piss figuratively and literally out of our beloved television champion. Then, a booming voice echoed throughout the precinct's parking garage.

ENOUGH!

The officer's begrudgingly concluded their beating, landing just a few more shots before packing their batons away and stepping back from the innocent-until-prove-guilty man laying on the ground. Two men approached him, walking side by side. One man is considerably taller and larger than the other. He is dressed from head to toe in a police chief's uniform. He looks just like the great khali. The man walking besides him is scrawny and pale skinned, with red hair and freckles. His eyes shine olive green. He is wearing casual slacks and a green polo. He's a bit young in the face and his clothing looks a bit baggy, almost as if they were hand me downs. The police chief stops walking as he addresses his boys in blue. The scrawny looking ginger in the baggy clothes, however, continues to walk to Charlie.

We have to cut this fool loose this time. Mayor's orders. I know, I know...but it's out of my hands.

The police chief attempts to delicately explain the finer politics of the situation as the ginger kneels before Charlie, holding out a white business card. Handcuffed Charlie, of course, can not reach out and grab the card...but he can still read the fine print on it. There are a few jet black letters in the upper left corner of this eggshell card.

Biyobi Consulting and Management, at your service.


Wh-what? I..I don't got money for a lawyer!


It's all expenses paid. Totally pro bono. We're here to work for you, Charles, and make sure you're taken care of. You have friends over here at Biyobi Management and Consulting. Let us show you what we can do for you.

The ginger turns and snaps at the police officers assembled in the garage.

Get this man out of these cuffs! He has a limousine waiting out front for him. And go grab a few of the hookers you got jailed up in the back and bring em around for the big fella over here. It's the least you can do to repay this clear and flagrant brutality. You don't want the mayor finding out you went against Biyobi now, do you?

The smug ginger smiled at the police chief as the scene faded to black for good this time.

]]> <![CDATA[The Shadow of the XWF - "When Worlds Collide"]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39020 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:47:48 -0800 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39020




                                                                                                                              






































































[Image: XyTjvsM.png]




“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

Plato





[Image: py0yup0.gif]


The Shadow of the XWF
- WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE -


*WHOOO* *WHOOOOOOOOO*

Like, what he fuck is that now?

Most of the gang’s back together now. Fred and Daphne made their way to the midway of this underground carnival just before Shaggy and Scooby Doo. Velma, on the other hand, is still lost in the darkness.

Scooby sniffs the air then coughs and sneezes at what must be something terrible!

PEEERRRUUUUUUUU

What is it, Scooby?

Like, what do you smell?

Scooby has his nose plugged with a clothes pin.

Mells rike rit, Raggy.

*WHOO* *WHOOOOOOOO*

Smells like shit? Well yeah, the whole place smells like----

Shaggy’s voice is taken from him as the noxious smell managed to swell up with throat and almost cause him to vomit! Fred isn’t so lucky and pukes a little more red gooeyness on the ground.

Like, I think Fred’s dyin’.

Fred glares at Shaggy then over to Daphne.

I’m not fucking dying, you IDIOT! I just need medical attention!

A light appears down the tunnel from where the train tracks come out.

There’s a train coming!

Oh… Oh, maybe we can get outta here then…

I don’t think it’s that kind of train, dude.

Fuck.. I NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION!

I don’t see any staff around to help you with your wounds, man… So, buck up and get with the program m---

The train finally peaks through the tunnel and

*WHOO* *WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

‘S again. It is the model train that takes everyone through the park! The Ghost Tank Express is ALL ABOARD!!!!!

Just after the engine is an open cart for passengers; the mysterious hooded figure reveals themself and is carrying a scythe! They swing it down and slice Shaggy’s head cleanly from his shoulders!!!!

AHHHHH!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!! SHAGGY NOOOOO!!!!!

Shaggy’s head bounces on the ground and rolls away as his body folds up in place on the ground. Scooby Doo sits in place wide-eyed at what he just witnessed. The train continues to roll by and circle around them before the brakes hit and the train screeches to a halt. A large spotlight turns on and shines down on all of them, blinding them like the sun.

The mysterious cloaked person jumps from the train and walks towards an incapaciated Fred, a decapitated Shaggy, Daphne, and Scooby Doo.

YOU BASTARD! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! STOP! STOP THIS!

The shadow person stops just before the spotlights reach and stands still.

Huh--- Huhhh-- HEY! Enough is enough!

Daphne looks down at Fred and kicks him.

Would you get up?! Your fucking pathetic! You know that?!

Several crows begin to fly around and gather around them. A droplet of birdshit falls and smacks Fred on the forehead which causes him to get up to his feet quicker than it would’ve originally appeared.

FUCK!! FUCK!! FUUUUCK!!!

The crows continue to fly in and now land on the train and the several destroyed rides and tents around them. Hundreds of them.

Come on mother fucker!! Come on!!

Daphne still holds her pole that she robbed from a tent earlier and readies her attack. The hooded person stands calmly and remains outside of the light.

What are you doing?! Grab something to hit him with!

Daphne screams at Fred who picks up a loose railroad spike. Daphne rushes forward and swings the pole as hard as she can down on the hooded figures head. The pole bends and the shadowy figure collapses to the ground. Fred was running behind Daphne, did not expect her to have a successful hit, and falls forward burning the railroad spike into the stomach of the mysterious hooded fellow.

*GARGLE!*

The hood bumbles.

Fred! Oh my God you killed him!

Out of breath Fred looks down…

I did.. WE did.. We did what we had to do… Right, Daphe?

Scooby, after munching on Shaggy’s corpse for a bit, is now over by them whimpering over the corpse of the hooded man.

What is it Shaggy?

*BOOM*

Another light flashes into the room as a door on the side kicks open. A silhouette steps forward and soon reveals himself to be….





























Doctor Louis D’Ville. Or to these folk, the guy in the gift shop. Or the guy in the hood.

Fred and Daphne look at each other before Scooby grabs the hood with his teeth and pulls it off revealing Velma under the hood.

You’re all free! I’ve figured it out!!

Doc looks around and sees the decapitated Shaggy in the corner and the dying Velma lying on the ground ahead of Fred and Daphne. His eyes light up with surprise.

Yikes.

VELMA?! WHA… WHY?!

Blood gurgles out of her mouth as Velma tries to speak. She spits and catches her breath trying not to drown.

Freddie…. Fre--- Freedddieee….

Fred’s face turns even more pale and he drops beside her body. Her hand bounces around searching for his…. He makes no effort to help her find it.

Freddie… I -- I--- I wanted to keep it, Freddie. I wanted to. I wanted…..

He backs away. Velma stares up at the spotlight in the sky with an empty look. Daphne shakes her head, but stays with her dying gang member. Velma finds Daphne’s hand and grasps it.

Do you remember? Do you remember the night you came to me? Do you remember?

Fred remembers the night well… Daphne had passed out in the tent after Shaggy made her some kind of hippy cocktail while he wasn’t looking that turned her into a drooling, stumbling, bumbling zombie. Even if he tried, the muscles and reflexes in Daphne’s limp frame would have no knowledge of his presence and do nothing for him. Angry and disappointed he crawls his way out of the tent. The campfire was dying down and on the other side of it, Shaggy and Scooby Doo were passed out leaning against one another against a log. Fred peers around and sees the bright orange tent pitched away from the fire by itself.

Rising to his feet and stumbles through the wet grass in his bare feet and kneels in front of the tent. Slowly, he unzips the door and enters. Fred watches Velma breath deep and sleep soundly within the confines of her sleeping bag. He looks back out to Shaggy and Scooby who have not moved and enters the tent, zipping the door closed behind him.

Velma fought at first as Fred began to take her against her will, but soon she embraced him. She stared into his cold eyes and neither of them said anything. After Fred finished he left and returned to his own tent where Daphne continued to drool half-dead into her pillow. Velma lied alone in her tent, her clothing half-on and half-off… With not a feeling of emptiness or despair, but with a warm feeling in her heart and a twinkle in her eye. She was in love.

I.. I love you… Freddie...

Velma fades a bit.

I… L--

Velma’s hand goes limp and Daphne places it on her stomach. She removes her glasses and closes her eyes before Fred takes a couple of steps forward.

Don’t Fred.

Look, I--

DON’T FRED!!!

Hey don’t try to put this on me!

Put it ON you?! Oh? Of course not! Not Mr. Perfect! Not the guy with ALL the great ideas! Not the guy with all the plans! Do you see what your “plans” got us, Fred?! Shaggy and Velma are DEAD. And what the fuck was that about “keeping it” and “the night you came to her”? HUH?

Doc continues to stand in the doorway watching all of this unfold. Scooby notices him and makes his way over and takes a seat beside the doctor.

Oh! Don’t pretend like you weren’t fucking that hippy-fuck over there. All you two cared about was getting fucked up and fucking behind my back. You fucking slut!

So it’s true?! You… You monster…. How could you do that to her? She loved you?! How many times did you “go to her?!”

I gave her what she wanted. And what did you expect? We had jobs to do, she couldn’t get pregnant let alone take a baby on the road. Are you serious?

Are YOU? Fred this ENTIRE thing is your fault. They’re dead because of you!

Fred grabs Daphne by the throat and pushes her to the ground.

I don’t care, Daphne! I don’t! We can find a NEW gang, can’t we?

Fred squeezes tightly around Daphne’s neck turning her face purple and her lips blue.

[yellow]I can find another asshole with a dog! I can find another gullible nerd! And I can certainly find another whore! And we’ll solve mysteries! We’ll uncover monsters! We’ll--



A deep growl can be heard behind Fred and Daphne. Scooby Doo stands behind Fred with the scythe…

[Image: CRoLKqQ.jpg?1]


Rye ron’t rink ro….

Doc watches the dog bury the scythe in the back of Fred’s back and also into Daphne by mistake. The poor girl screams aloud as Fred squeezes tight before falling on her.

Rwhoops!

Doc laughs to himself before shrugging, turning, and walking back out of the room. He whistles for the dog who comes trotting along behind him.

So what’s your name again?

Rooby Roo!

Ruby Ru?

Ruh uh… Roooby Roooby Roooooo!

Can you drive?




Thaddeus Duke sits upon a steed next to his father, Sebastian and grandfather, Asmodeus. The three of them look down from a cliff upon a town burning to the ground. If it will not burn, it will be torn apart. No survivors.

[Image: ONm0MiX.jpg?1]


Thaddeus, as proud as any young autocrat could be, looks to his grandfather in admiration while also awaiting his approval. Asmodeus looks on, not breaking his glance from the town burning before him. Thaddeus stares at his grandfather a moment before his father breaks his concentration.

From what I understand… They surrendered long ago, boy…

They did not deserve a surrender...

You’ve destroyed a town of farmers and markets! These are not the people who threaten us!

They ARE our enemies! If they will not stand with us then they will die.

Even when the war is won, we will still need farms, boy.

Asmodeus continues to look on as the two other Duke’s argue. Finally, he puts a end to it.

Enough!

Thad and Sebastian both look back over to Asmodeus who remains staring ahead at the burning village.

The boy only knows destruction… Let him do his part in the war, Sebastian. He will one day rule after you and he will be more than diplomatic by then. Until then, why not let the boy have his fun?

*RUSTLE* *RUSLE*

Did you hear that?

Doc, who was hiding in the bushes, realizes he may get caught and jumps back into the door that he entered this place with.

I liked that guy.

Upon exiting, Doc is back in a large house with many, many closed doors. Doc rubs his hands together and heads for one. He approaches it slowly, looking around him, and then turns the doorknob to open it. Stepping through he finds himself on a battlefield. There are bombs going off all around him and jets and airplanes flying through the air. Doc wanders about and watches people get blown up and shot all around him while avoiding the explosions and gunshots, himself. He finds Thaddeus, the Thaddeus that Doc actually recognizes. The Thaddeus that everyone recognizes, holding a man at gunpoint. Doc approaches him with daring eyes.

Have I found you?

Doc circles as Thaddeus holds the gun to the man’s head and then pulls the trigger. Doc is then sucked back into the door he came through this time and back into the house that he came from.

Doc continues searching, poking his head in and out of doors, leaving them hanging open as he goes. He is looking for the perfect thing in Thaddeus that will bring the darkness back out of him. The doctor stops in a room where Thaddeus is lighting a house on fire himself while the family of the house, consisting of a man face down on the ground, a mother, and two daughters. Thaddeus looks at them while they look back at him in disgust as their home begins to burn. He looks down at the fallen man as they begin to sob. He nods to a couple of soldiers with him and they walk over and begin clubbing the three of them. Thaddeus slowly walks around the room, just casually looking about.

It’s not just the young you is it… There’s something here that sparks it all, isn’t there? Where, young Duke? Where…?

Doc tries another door and finds himself watching Thaddeus speak with Frankie, his adopted son. Doc’s eyes are fire at the sight of the young boy that Duke now tends to. Doc slams the door shut…

It sure ain’t in there….

Doc decides to take his time now as he searches through this monster of a house. He wanders up the first stairwell now to the second level.

I know it’s in here, boy!

Doc shouts and his voice echoes through the house.

We really don’t have much more time to waste here… Our bout with those tough guys is tomorrow and if you don’t get a little meaner then I’m just going to have my work cut out for me. Not that these two fools even know what’s coming.

Doc opens up a door, frowns, and walks past it leaving it open. We peek in and see it is one of the few memories Thaddeus has of his mother. Why would Doc have left that one open? Doc approaches the door that is locked and begins to kick it. The door swings open and Doc steps inside…

CRRRRROOOOOOAAAAAAAATTTTT--

Doc slams the door and locks it from the outside. He makes his way over to a couch where he sits down and lights up a stogy. After a couple puffs the thing is rolling and Doc is filling the fourier up with thick, lucious cigar smoke.

I guess there’s a few things that I have to get off my chest. I’m not sure if Chris Page really gets me. He’s from a different era. Some different guys were around when he was and he somehow ended up in the Hall of Legends. Now… I may have “acted a fool” here, folks. While I was inducted into the Hall of Legends at a pay-per-view a couple of months back, it hasn’t been posted on the website. For a guy who couldn’t let young Duke live down the fact he owns a pink iPhone, I figured you would at least remember a show you were most likely part of. How about I text Theo Pryce immediately and tell him to get it changed so ya’ll can look back and see I’m telling you the truth.

Doc goes to pull his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t have one.

Oh well, I must have left it by the bed. I doubt there’s much service in here anyway.

Doc snickers and puffs on the cigar some more.

So, can we just agree to disagree about where we are on what list and in what hall? I know what I am and that’s a KING of the XWF. Are you a KING to CCP? You know what? I don’t even want to get you started on that. I’m sure you’re a king of something, so I’ll just be happy for you for that.

Now, Chris Page, you did make me curious about something before… but I hated to really bring it up because it didn’t relate so much to our current situation. It was in regards to the Battle Royale following our match. While I did sign up to partake in that match, I assure you that my heart and full attention is on this one right here. I’m not one to quote other fellows or even pick at things some poor, sad, old fellows say…. But CCP, you sure take the cake on some of these, my friend. You’ve said some things that make me question what it is we’re even doing out here some nights. As I said, my presence in the battle royale for the UNIVERSAL Title actually ended up on the back burner, can you believe it? The way I came out about “saving” the XWF and what not? You would have thought I would have killed each and every one of you just to get it.

But things change.

Things change all the time.

They adapt. They evolve.

So what happened CCP was that my interests went from ruining everyone else’s day, to just ruining you and Robert Main’s. Now what has really spiked my interest about the words that you’ve just been blurting out of your mouth in such a hurry as of late… is the words that have left my mouth. Or, maybe, the lack there of. What sticks out to me most is you bringing up my…… “PARTICIPATION”? Would that be the word I’m looking for? My participation in the banter everyone’s been sharing leading up to it all. Does my lack of words make you nervous, sir? Does my lack of words offend you? Do they matter when it comes to winning the battle royale? Or does my preparation and my attitude and my toughness and roughness and ruthlessness and mercilessness matter when it comes to winning it?

I can’t tell the two of you apart at this point so we’re just going to refer to you as ONE from now on, k? So, my lack of expression towards the battle royale makes me lazy and incompitent. Sure. But let’s move onto more recent events where you claim that all the boy has been doing is trying to make up for one shitty promo. What are we even doing here, people? Is this a ladder match for the XWF Xtreme Championships with the entire existence and worth-a-damn of Cataclysm on the line? Or is this a battle of promos? I told you boys smoking pot and playing Sons of Anarchy all day is NOT going to get you anywhere, yet… here we are. You even Go Pro’d your last time playing and included it in your PRO MO.

I know I just said I couldn’t tell you two apart anymore but I take it back for a moment. Did I really just hear Robert Main say he dropped the Xtreme Title INTENTIONALLY JUST BEFORE HE WON A BRIEFCASE BECAUSE WE GOT TO HIM AND HE DIDN’T WANT TO WIN THE UNIVERSAL TITLE THAT WAY?

Did he?

Buddy, you would have looked less like a fool admitting you just screwed up. Now, you look like an idiot, an excuse riddled-weakling, and …. I can’t even go on here. How could you even bring yourself to say such a thing? You took a fall? You did the job? You threw away 13 weeks of annoying occurrences to prove to…. MOI? That you can win the UNIVERSAL TItle without a case?

COME. ON.

Please take it back.

Next, after the boy and I ruin the rest of your lives, you’ll say that “the goals we’ve been working on for 8 months just weren’t worth it in the end and there’s bigger and better fish to fry. Doc and Duke aren’t worth our time and neither is that petty Tag Team Division that we owned for said time.” That’s you. That’s what you’ll probably sound like based on the excuses that automatically expel from your mouths the second something doesn’t unfold the way you pictured it.

I told you boys at the start that you're way deeper than you’ve ever been. The hill you have to climb isn’t just a hill but it’s a hill with briar bushes and Nazi’s at the top throwing rocks at you. Big rocks. And just to be clear, and I can’t blame you for thinking they don’t keep up on this stuff since I’m still not listed in the XWF Hall of Legends after being inducted in June… Here’s some proof of my 400 plus day title reign.

[Image: czvBUnY.png?1]


Doctor Louis D’Ville won the Tag Team Championship from Arby Beef on September 28 of 2016. On April 19 of 2017, I replaced my partner Unknown Soldier, WHO FLAKED, with the KINGS. I then relinquished the titles after a Royal Rumble to the winners on November 26, 2017. Do the math. DO THE MATH.

Do you actually think I have to make things up in order to impress or frighten you? In order to make a juicier PRO MO? I don’t. I really, really don’t. Chris Page you are underestimating me and it is going to backfire on you. Robert Main, as stubborn as he is, could have at the very least warned you, but like I said… Stubborn. It’s his stubbornness that cost him the Xtreme Title and it will be BOTH of your stubbornness that costs you everything that you have built and everything that you stand for. What will Cataclysm have to say after High Stakes is behind us? What COULD they say? Make more excuses, boys, because that seems to be what your best at. Make a documentary following your stupid asses around High Stakes weekend and every mistep leading up to it. Exclude the commentary though… That definitely ruined the one ya’ll did for Relentless. Tasteless garbage, if you ask me. In fact, I turned it off and just rewatched Relentless to save myself a headache.

Doc snuffs out his cigar on the couch he sits and stands back up.

Now, regardless of how confident the boy seems coming into this whole thing… The two of us still have a bit of ….. “Strategy” to discuss before this all goes down. So, if you don’t mind….

Doc takes a bow and heads for another door close-by. He rattles the handle, but it doesn’t budge. The doctor takes a couple of steps back and kicks the door open with force. Stepping forward, he sees young Duke as his grandfather Asmodeus’s funeral…. And the evil floating in the room makes Doc’s tummy and legs feel like rubber….

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[Image: XyTjvsM.png]




“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

Plato





[Image: py0yup0.gif]


The Shadow of the XWF
- WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE -


*WHOOO* *WHOOOOOOOOO*

Like, what he fuck is that now?

Most of the gang’s back together now. Fred and Daphne made their way to the midway of this underground carnival just before Shaggy and Scooby Doo. Velma, on the other hand, is still lost in the darkness.

Scooby sniffs the air then coughs and sneezes at what must be something terrible!

PEEERRRUUUUUUUU

What is it, Scooby?

Like, what do you smell?

Scooby has his nose plugged with a clothes pin.

Mells rike rit, Raggy.

*WHOO* *WHOOOOOOOO*

Smells like shit? Well yeah, the whole place smells like----

Shaggy’s voice is taken from him as the noxious smell managed to swell up with throat and almost cause him to vomit! Fred isn’t so lucky and pukes a little more red gooeyness on the ground.

Like, I think Fred’s dyin’.

Fred glares at Shaggy then over to Daphne.

I’m not fucking dying, you IDIOT! I just need medical attention!

A light appears down the tunnel from where the train tracks come out.

There’s a train coming!

Oh… Oh, maybe we can get outta here then…

I don’t think it’s that kind of train, dude.

Fuck.. I NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION!

I don’t see any staff around to help you with your wounds, man… So, buck up and get with the program m---

The train finally peaks through the tunnel and

*WHOO* *WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

‘S again. It is the model train that takes everyone through the park! The Ghost Tank Express is ALL ABOARD!!!!!

Just after the engine is an open cart for passengers; the mysterious hooded figure reveals themself and is carrying a scythe! They swing it down and slice Shaggy’s head cleanly from his shoulders!!!!

AHHHHH!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!! SHAGGY NOOOOO!!!!!

Shaggy’s head bounces on the ground and rolls away as his body folds up in place on the ground. Scooby Doo sits in place wide-eyed at what he just witnessed. The train continues to roll by and circle around them before the brakes hit and the train screeches to a halt. A large spotlight turns on and shines down on all of them, blinding them like the sun.

The mysterious cloaked person jumps from the train and walks towards an incapaciated Fred, a decapitated Shaggy, Daphne, and Scooby Doo.

YOU BASTARD! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! STOP! STOP THIS!

The shadow person stops just before the spotlights reach and stands still.

Huh--- Huhhh-- HEY! Enough is enough!

Daphne looks down at Fred and kicks him.

Would you get up?! Your fucking pathetic! You know that?!

Several crows begin to fly around and gather around them. A droplet of birdshit falls and smacks Fred on the forehead which causes him to get up to his feet quicker than it would’ve originally appeared.

FUCK!! FUCK!! FUUUUCK!!!

The crows continue to fly in and now land on the train and the several destroyed rides and tents around them. Hundreds of them.

Come on mother fucker!! Come on!!

Daphne still holds her pole that she robbed from a tent earlier and readies her attack. The hooded person stands calmly and remains outside of the light.

What are you doing?! Grab something to hit him with!

Daphne screams at Fred who picks up a loose railroad spike. Daphne rushes forward and swings the pole as hard as she can down on the hooded figures head. The pole bends and the shadowy figure collapses to the ground. Fred was running behind Daphne, did not expect her to have a successful hit, and falls forward burning the railroad spike into the stomach of the mysterious hooded fellow.

*GARGLE!*

The hood bumbles.

Fred! Oh my God you killed him!

Out of breath Fred looks down…

I did.. WE did.. We did what we had to do… Right, Daphe?

Scooby, after munching on Shaggy’s corpse for a bit, is now over by them whimpering over the corpse of the hooded man.

What is it Shaggy?

*BOOM*

Another light flashes into the room as a door on the side kicks open. A silhouette steps forward and soon reveals himself to be….





























Doctor Louis D’Ville. Or to these folk, the guy in the gift shop. Or the guy in the hood.

Fred and Daphne look at each other before Scooby grabs the hood with his teeth and pulls it off revealing Velma under the hood.

You’re all free! I’ve figured it out!!

Doc looks around and sees the decapitated Shaggy in the corner and the dying Velma lying on the ground ahead of Fred and Daphne. His eyes light up with surprise.

Yikes.

VELMA?! WHA… WHY?!

Blood gurgles out of her mouth as Velma tries to speak. She spits and catches her breath trying not to drown.

Freddie…. Fre--- Freedddieee….

Fred’s face turns even more pale and he drops beside her body. Her hand bounces around searching for his…. He makes no effort to help her find it.

Freddie… I -- I--- I wanted to keep it, Freddie. I wanted to. I wanted…..

He backs away. Velma stares up at the spotlight in the sky with an empty look. Daphne shakes her head, but stays with her dying gang member. Velma finds Daphne’s hand and grasps it.

Do you remember? Do you remember the night you came to me? Do you remember?

Fred remembers the night well… Daphne had passed out in the tent after Shaggy made her some kind of hippy cocktail while he wasn’t looking that turned her into a drooling, stumbling, bumbling zombie. Even if he tried, the muscles and reflexes in Daphne’s limp frame would have no knowledge of his presence and do nothing for him. Angry and disappointed he crawls his way out of the tent. The campfire was dying down and on the other side of it, Shaggy and Scooby Doo were passed out leaning against one another against a log. Fred peers around and sees the bright orange tent pitched away from the fire by itself.

Rising to his feet and stumbles through the wet grass in his bare feet and kneels in front of the tent. Slowly, he unzips the door and enters. Fred watches Velma breath deep and sleep soundly within the confines of her sleeping bag. He looks back out to Shaggy and Scooby who have not moved and enters the tent, zipping the door closed behind him.

Velma fought at first as Fred began to take her against her will, but soon she embraced him. She stared into his cold eyes and neither of them said anything. After Fred finished he left and returned to his own tent where Daphne continued to drool half-dead into her pillow. Velma lied alone in her tent, her clothing half-on and half-off… With not a feeling of emptiness or despair, but with a warm feeling in her heart and a twinkle in her eye. She was in love.

I.. I love you… Freddie...

Velma fades a bit.

I… L--

Velma’s hand goes limp and Daphne places it on her stomach. She removes her glasses and closes her eyes before Fred takes a couple of steps forward.

Don’t Fred.

Look, I--

DON’T FRED!!!

Hey don’t try to put this on me!

Put it ON you?! Oh? Of course not! Not Mr. Perfect! Not the guy with ALL the great ideas! Not the guy with all the plans! Do you see what your “plans” got us, Fred?! Shaggy and Velma are DEAD. And what the fuck was that about “keeping it” and “the night you came to her”? HUH?

Doc continues to stand in the doorway watching all of this unfold. Scooby notices him and makes his way over and takes a seat beside the doctor.

Oh! Don’t pretend like you weren’t fucking that hippy-fuck over there. All you two cared about was getting fucked up and fucking behind my back. You fucking slut!

So it’s true?! You… You monster…. How could you do that to her? She loved you?! How many times did you “go to her?!”

I gave her what she wanted. And what did you expect? We had jobs to do, she couldn’t get pregnant let alone take a baby on the road. Are you serious?

Are YOU? Fred this ENTIRE thing is your fault. They’re dead because of you!

Fred grabs Daphne by the throat and pushes her to the ground.

I don’t care, Daphne! I don’t! We can find a NEW gang, can’t we?

Fred squeezes tightly around Daphne’s neck turning her face purple and her lips blue.

[yellow]I can find another asshole with a dog! I can find another gullible nerd! And I can certainly find another whore! And we’ll solve mysteries! We’ll uncover monsters! We’ll--



A deep growl can be heard behind Fred and Daphne. Scooby Doo stands behind Fred with the scythe…

[Image: CRoLKqQ.jpg?1]


Rye ron’t rink ro….

Doc watches the dog bury the scythe in the back of Fred’s back and also into Daphne by mistake. The poor girl screams aloud as Fred squeezes tight before falling on her.

Rwhoops!

Doc laughs to himself before shrugging, turning, and walking back out of the room. He whistles for the dog who comes trotting along behind him.

So what’s your name again?

Rooby Roo!

Ruby Ru?

Ruh uh… Roooby Roooby Roooooo!

Can you drive?




Thaddeus Duke sits upon a steed next to his father, Sebastian and grandfather, Asmodeus. The three of them look down from a cliff upon a town burning to the ground. If it will not burn, it will be torn apart. No survivors.

[Image: ONm0MiX.jpg?1]


Thaddeus, as proud as any young autocrat could be, looks to his grandfather in admiration while also awaiting his approval. Asmodeus looks on, not breaking his glance from the town burning before him. Thaddeus stares at his grandfather a moment before his father breaks his concentration.

From what I understand… They surrendered long ago, boy…

They did not deserve a surrender...

You’ve destroyed a town of farmers and markets! These are not the people who threaten us!

They ARE our enemies! If they will not stand with us then they will die.

Even when the war is won, we will still need farms, boy.

Asmodeus continues to look on as the two other Duke’s argue. Finally, he puts a end to it.

Enough!

Thad and Sebastian both look back over to Asmodeus who remains staring ahead at the burning village.

The boy only knows destruction… Let him do his part in the war, Sebastian. He will one day rule after you and he will be more than diplomatic by then. Until then, why not let the boy have his fun?

*RUSTLE* *RUSLE*

Did you hear that?

Doc, who was hiding in the bushes, realizes he may get caught and jumps back into the door that he entered this place with.

I liked that guy.

Upon exiting, Doc is back in a large house with many, many closed doors. Doc rubs his hands together and heads for one. He approaches it slowly, looking around him, and then turns the doorknob to open it. Stepping through he finds himself on a battlefield. There are bombs going off all around him and jets and airplanes flying through the air. Doc wanders about and watches people get blown up and shot all around him while avoiding the explosions and gunshots, himself. He finds Thaddeus, the Thaddeus that Doc actually recognizes. The Thaddeus that everyone recognizes, holding a man at gunpoint. Doc approaches him with daring eyes.

Have I found you?

Doc circles as Thaddeus holds the gun to the man’s head and then pulls the trigger. Doc is then sucked back into the door he came through this time and back into the house that he came from.

Doc continues searching, poking his head in and out of doors, leaving them hanging open as he goes. He is looking for the perfect thing in Thaddeus that will bring the darkness back out of him. The doctor stops in a room where Thaddeus is lighting a house on fire himself while the family of the house, consisting of a man face down on the ground, a mother, and two daughters. Thaddeus looks at them while they look back at him in disgust as their home begins to burn. He looks down at the fallen man as they begin to sob. He nods to a couple of soldiers with him and they walk over and begin clubbing the three of them. Thaddeus slowly walks around the room, just casually looking about.

It’s not just the young you is it… There’s something here that sparks it all, isn’t there? Where, young Duke? Where…?

Doc tries another door and finds himself watching Thaddeus speak with Frankie, his adopted son. Doc’s eyes are fire at the sight of the young boy that Duke now tends to. Doc slams the door shut…

It sure ain’t in there….

Doc decides to take his time now as he searches through this monster of a house. He wanders up the first stairwell now to the second level.

I know it’s in here, boy!

Doc shouts and his voice echoes through the house.

We really don’t have much more time to waste here… Our bout with those tough guys is tomorrow and if you don’t get a little meaner then I’m just going to have my work cut out for me. Not that these two fools even know what’s coming.

Doc opens up a door, frowns, and walks past it leaving it open. We peek in and see it is one of the few memories Thaddeus has of his mother. Why would Doc have left that one open? Doc approaches the door that is locked and begins to kick it. The door swings open and Doc steps inside…

CRRRRROOOOOOAAAAAAAATTTTT--

Doc slams the door and locks it from the outside. He makes his way over to a couch where he sits down and lights up a stogy. After a couple puffs the thing is rolling and Doc is filling the fourier up with thick, lucious cigar smoke.

I guess there’s a few things that I have to get off my chest. I’m not sure if Chris Page really gets me. He’s from a different era. Some different guys were around when he was and he somehow ended up in the Hall of Legends. Now… I may have “acted a fool” here, folks. While I was inducted into the Hall of Legends at a pay-per-view a couple of months back, it hasn’t been posted on the website. For a guy who couldn’t let young Duke live down the fact he owns a pink iPhone, I figured you would at least remember a show you were most likely part of. How about I text Theo Pryce immediately and tell him to get it changed so ya’ll can look back and see I’m telling you the truth.

Doc goes to pull his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t have one.

Oh well, I must have left it by the bed. I doubt there’s much service in here anyway.

Doc snickers and puffs on the cigar some more.

So, can we just agree to disagree about where we are on what list and in what hall? I know what I am and that’s a KING of the XWF. Are you a KING to CCP? You know what? I don’t even want to get you started on that. I’m sure you’re a king of something, so I’ll just be happy for you for that.

Now, Chris Page, you did make me curious about something before… but I hated to really bring it up because it didn’t relate so much to our current situation. It was in regards to the Battle Royale following our match. While I did sign up to partake in that match, I assure you that my heart and full attention is on this one right here. I’m not one to quote other fellows or even pick at things some poor, sad, old fellows say…. But CCP, you sure take the cake on some of these, my friend. You’ve said some things that make me question what it is we’re even doing out here some nights. As I said, my presence in the battle royale for the UNIVERSAL Title actually ended up on the back burner, can you believe it? The way I came out about “saving” the XWF and what not? You would have thought I would have killed each and every one of you just to get it.

But things change.

Things change all the time.

They adapt. They evolve.

So what happened CCP was that my interests went from ruining everyone else’s day, to just ruining you and Robert Main’s. Now what has really spiked my interest about the words that you’ve just been blurting out of your mouth in such a hurry as of late… is the words that have left my mouth. Or, maybe, the lack there of. What sticks out to me most is you bringing up my…… “PARTICIPATION”? Would that be the word I’m looking for? My participation in the banter everyone’s been sharing leading up to it all. Does my lack of words make you nervous, sir? Does my lack of words offend you? Do they matter when it comes to winning the battle royale? Or does my preparation and my attitude and my toughness and roughness and ruthlessness and mercilessness matter when it comes to winning it?

I can’t tell the two of you apart at this point so we’re just going to refer to you as ONE from now on, k? So, my lack of expression towards the battle royale makes me lazy and incompitent. Sure. But let’s move onto more recent events where you claim that all the boy has been doing is trying to make up for one shitty promo. What are we even doing here, people? Is this a ladder match for the XWF Xtreme Championships with the entire existence and worth-a-damn of Cataclysm on the line? Or is this a battle of promos? I told you boys smoking pot and playing Sons of Anarchy all day is NOT going to get you anywhere, yet… here we are. You even Go Pro’d your last time playing and included it in your PRO MO.

I know I just said I couldn’t tell you two apart anymore but I take it back for a moment. Did I really just hear Robert Main say he dropped the Xtreme Title INTENTIONALLY JUST BEFORE HE WON A BRIEFCASE BECAUSE WE GOT TO HIM AND HE DIDN’T WANT TO WIN THE UNIVERSAL TITLE THAT WAY?

Did he?

Buddy, you would have looked less like a fool admitting you just screwed up. Now, you look like an idiot, an excuse riddled-weakling, and …. I can’t even go on here. How could you even bring yourself to say such a thing? You took a fall? You did the job? You threw away 13 weeks of annoying occurrences to prove to…. MOI? That you can win the UNIVERSAL TItle without a case?

COME. ON.

Please take it back.

Next, after the boy and I ruin the rest of your lives, you’ll say that “the goals we’ve been working on for 8 months just weren’t worth it in the end and there’s bigger and better fish to fry. Doc and Duke aren’t worth our time and neither is that petty Tag Team Division that we owned for said time.” That’s you. That’s what you’ll probably sound like based on the excuses that automatically expel from your mouths the second something doesn’t unfold the way you pictured it.

I told you boys at the start that you're way deeper than you’ve ever been. The hill you have to climb isn’t just a hill but it’s a hill with briar bushes and Nazi’s at the top throwing rocks at you. Big rocks. And just to be clear, and I can’t blame you for thinking they don’t keep up on this stuff since I’m still not listed in the XWF Hall of Legends after being inducted in June… Here’s some proof of my 400 plus day title reign.

[Image: czvBUnY.png?1]


Doctor Louis D’Ville won the Tag Team Championship from Arby Beef on September 28 of 2016. On April 19 of 2017, I replaced my partner Unknown Soldier, WHO FLAKED, with the KINGS. I then relinquished the titles after a Royal Rumble to the winners on November 26, 2017. Do the math. DO THE MATH.

Do you actually think I have to make things up in order to impress or frighten you? In order to make a juicier PRO MO? I don’t. I really, really don’t. Chris Page you are underestimating me and it is going to backfire on you. Robert Main, as stubborn as he is, could have at the very least warned you, but like I said… Stubborn. It’s his stubbornness that cost him the Xtreme Title and it will be BOTH of your stubbornness that costs you everything that you have built and everything that you stand for. What will Cataclysm have to say after High Stakes is behind us? What COULD they say? Make more excuses, boys, because that seems to be what your best at. Make a documentary following your stupid asses around High Stakes weekend and every mistep leading up to it. Exclude the commentary though… That definitely ruined the one ya’ll did for Relentless. Tasteless garbage, if you ask me. In fact, I turned it off and just rewatched Relentless to save myself a headache.

Doc snuffs out his cigar on the couch he sits and stands back up.

Now, regardless of how confident the boy seems coming into this whole thing… The two of us still have a bit of ….. “Strategy” to discuss before this all goes down. So, if you don’t mind….

Doc takes a bow and heads for another door close-by. He rattles the handle, but it doesn’t budge. The doctor takes a couple of steps back and kicks the door open with force. Stepping forward, he sees young Duke as his grandfather Asmodeus’s funeral…. And the evil floating in the room makes Doc’s tummy and legs feel like rubber….

]]> <![CDATA[Fears of Kieran coming to light/the match is Kieran's for the taking.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39019 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:45:23 -0800 Kieran Overton]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39019 Kieran's fear has come into the light. Las Vegas, Nevada. Tuesday 24th November. (Off Camera)

It's during that time where Kieran's still getting used to having the responsibility of taking care of his seventeen-year-old brother, Chase Overton. He wanted to be a skateboarder and make it into being a professional one in a few years. It didn't really please Kieran because he wasn't into the sport at all. At the same time, Kieran had to accept Chase's decision and live with it, although it's still difficult for Kieran to have this responsibility still to keep an eye out on Chase.

As he saw, Kieran sat on the bench, watching his brother doing stunts on a skateboard as there were professionals on the ramp today, looking out for new talent which obviously was something Chase wanted to do. Chase had been practising every single day to be one of the top skateboarders of Las Vegas.

There were more kids, coming to sit down with Kieran, watching the skateboarding competition, some who were fans. There was a boy in their early twenties, short blond hair with a cap on back to front wanting to talk to Kieran as he asks a question.

Early Twenties kid: “Do you like skateboarding?”

Kieran Overton: “To be honest, no, I don't. I didn't come here because I wanted to, it's because I had to. See that short black-haired guy there? That's my brother, Chase. He's always wanted to do this sport. It's something he enjoys.”

Early Twenties kid: “That's awesome right, that Chase is down there, doing stunts on the skateboard. He looks pretty good to me.”

Kieran Overton: “Chase's been practising ever since my parents adopted him. They adopted him because I needed to learn to be responsible. That's what they said I had to learn. I'm not sure what to do with a brother.”

It was the first time, Kieran had a socialised conversation with the early twenties kid, he wasn't even sure why the early twenties kid was speaking to Kieran as this sport was well out of Kieran's comfort zone, even if he applauds and claps Chase. He still wasn't able to be himself, being a nasty piece of shit he was in wrestling.

Early Twenties kid: “You kidding me? You take care of Chase. He's your brother, and you should love him to death. Should play games with him or take him out somewhere for a boys night or something. I go out with my boys all the time, even if they are friends.”

Kieran Overton: “Having friends and having a brother to hang out with are two different things. I'm incapable of showing love.”

There was another kid, coming over to Kieran, seeing he spoke about his brother Chase being in there and he was eighteen years old with black hair with a cap on back to front with lots of different skate sponsors on the clothing he had.

Eighteen years old kid: “Are you blind to not even know who this is, Michael?”

Michael: “I don't know who this guy is.”

Eighteen years old kid: “This is The Destructive Beast, Kieran Overton dude. He's a professional wrestler in XWF. Do you not watch wrestling?”

Michael: “I don't, sadly, but I'm glad I know now. This is Oliver, who is a big wrestling fan as well as a skateboarding fan. This guy is saying his brother with short black hair is skating with the sponsored skaters.”

Oliver: “Oh, him? Yeah, I've seen him around before in the skate park. From what I know of him, he's excellent. Thinks he can make it as a pro and I believe him. He dedicates a lot to doing skateboarding. Also, the scores prove it that Chase is on top right now. By the way, may I have your autograph?”

This was where Kieran felt afraid, part of him wanted the kid to leave him alone and tell him to fuck off, but on the other hand, he had to be the responsible brother to Chase. For the first time in his life, despite being afraid, he nods and signed on the back of the advertisement board for the kid who claimed to be a professional wrestling fan.

Oliver: “Thank you.”

Kieran Overton: “You're welcome. Part of me wanted me to tell you to fuck off, but I got responsibilities to for fill.”

Both Oliver and Michael nodded at Kieran, understanding that he was only there to support his brother. The event organisers announce the top three winners, all of which Kieran was far from interested in. However, the winner was as Kieran stood up and clapped for Chase for getting the reward of being sponsored when their parents couldn't be there because of work they had to do.

Chase was getting the chance to skateboard with the top skateboarder of the world, and he was able to do so successfully. Chase was having a blast, and after he finished doing a demo run with the professional skateboarder, he got praised and congratulated by every skater as they bashed their skateboard on the ramp to Chase and the professional skateboarder.

He was asked a few questions as he then brought Kieran to the front. Kieran walked to the ramp and saw that he got thanked by his brother for supporting him today. Chase hugged Kieran hard, in a good way because it was full of joy. Everyone else went home as Chase went off to skate in the streets.

Michael: “You aren't going after him?”

Kieran Overton: “Na, I'm fully sure he'll be alright. He needs time to sink the moment of being a sponsored skater in.”

Oliver: “Good point.”

It did take a very long time however like thirty minutes later; Chase was still not back from skating back as Kieran fears the absolute worse, the fear that has always been on his mind, due to Chase's past, drug dealers. Kieran says to the skateboarding fans.

Kieran Overton: “Wait right here; I'll check out what's going on with my brother.”

Kieran runs where Chase skated and suddenly, from out of nowhere, they weren't drug dealers, but indeed poor people, immediately catching Chase with the cheque he got and they mocked and laughed at him.

Kieran Overton: “Oh shit, I don't know what to do here.”

Chase Overton: “Help me; they are taking my money away and beating me up.”

As much fear Kieran had on being viewed as being a softie for saving someone, he didn't like the situation, but something he had to do as he chased after the guys who took Chase's money from him and Kieran manages to catch them, and he says this.

Kieran Overton: “Going somewhere with that cheque my brother earned from winning a skateboarding competition?”

Homeless kid: “Yeah, we're going to place it in the bank. This brother of yours is far too young for money cheque he got.”

Kieran Overton: “So you don't admit stealing money from anyone, regardless of what age is wrong? I don't want ever to do this, but you guys are messing with the wrong fucking guy here. You don't have a clue what I'm capable of.”

Homeless kid: “With your fat ass? Fuck out of here; you can't do anything with that tub of lard you carry around.”

Kieran Overton: “At least this tub of lard has won titles in his profession, at least Chase has won a chance to get sponsored. I'm going to fuck you up so bad you won't even feel a damn thing.”

Kieran grabbed hold of the homeless kid by the throat and beats him up with punches to the ribs and kicking him on the floor, before giving the kid a piledriver on the pavement along with a suplex and a DDT to go along with it. The kid was down and out, having a busted skull from the damage Kieran gave to the homeless kid. He gives the cheque back to Chase who immediately hugs Kieran and cries.

Kieran Overton: “It's alright. It's my fault for being irresponsible. I'll take the blame for this.”

Chase Overton: “No, don't. I was the one who skated off to celebrate being sponsored.”

Kieran Overton: “But I let you do that. Come on; everything is fine now. We better get you home, and it's best if you give me that cheque.”

Chase nods as he was very thankful to have his big brother came around when he did as Kieran held his hand and saw Michael and Oliver came round and saw the bruises on Chase's face and Oliver asked a question.

Oliver: “What happened?”

Kieran Overton: “Some fucking idiots were trying to steal Chase's money and the contract of him being signed as a pro skateboarder away from him.”

Michael: “Sorry if they have a shit life. Chase, you did fantastic out there today. We were watching, and your skills are top-notch. Never allow those sorry assholes ruin your moment.”

Oliver: “Much like those other four bitches Kieran has to deal with that he won't let them win over him. You will be alright.”

Chase Overton: “Thanks to my big brother, I am. Thank you for the complements. I hope to continue skateboarding around here sometimes. For now, this skater is going around the world to dominate against other pro skateboarders.”

Michael: “Damn, right, you will. See you later and good luck with everything in the future, Chase.”

Michael and Oliver left as Kieran held Chase's hand as they walk out of the alleyway and as they were nearly home, Chase had a question to ask Kieran.

Chase Overton: “Did I do good out there today?”

Kieran Overton: “You did fantastically. I will take you home before your parents get home so I can fly to Tombstone, Arizona to wrestle a PPV match against Shawn, Brian and Marf this weekend. Enjoy the moment of being a professional skateboarder now. We'll be Skateboarding and Wrestling champions of the world.”

Chase Overton: “Of course we will. I can't wait to show mum and dad this contract and the amount of money I won. Whooo me going to be a professional skateboarder, none of you fuckers are.”

Kieran pats Chase's chest, showing the love of arrogance from his brother, the way his family was supposed to be. Kieran got his key out and placed it in the door for them to walk in their home, and they relaxed for a while. Kieran placed the cheque on the table for their parents to see what Chase got. Chase also placed the contract signed from a skateboarder on the table and Chase goes upstairs and plays skateboarding music. When the parents get home, Kieran leaves to go to the airport right away to Arizona.

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

This match is still mine for the taking twitch.com shoot. (On Camera)

“To be frank, I don't give a damn about Brian and Shawn Wylde anymore, they've given me nothing to counter back with so I let them say what they want about me and ten times out of ten, I wouldn't give a shit because it shows both of you lack any commitment on wanting to win this match. One hasn't bothered to mention anything about the match at all and the other spoke about his life story nobody gives a flying fuck about, especially it had nothing to do with wrestling. I don't give a shit what you do out of the ring, keep that shit off camera.

You were the only one that put up a fight, Marf or smarf I should call you because you resemble a lot of that in yourself. Otherwise, why would you call yourself marf when you know it's short being a smarf. It still makes me laugh when I think about it; still, I haven't heard of you either kid, I don't know how the fuck you even got in XWF since I was absent from this company for a bit, but here we are.

HAHA, do you know that fat jokes don't even bother me? Better than being a typical average guy who doesn't even look like a professional wrestler and you aren't the nice guy you claim to be either. What the fuck have you actually done in XWF? Nothing as far as I can count, although I haven't impressed much either, you've had way more matches than me. You are pathetic.

It seems you're fucking happy to be on the pre-show, are you fucking kidding me? Nobody with a ton of talent like you have should be. I'm certainly not, especially not coming from having a Heartless title match against Bobby and some irrelevant fool named Greggo who's named after Greggs bakery place. I still did better than him in the match, and I took advantage of the heartless title opportunity when guys like you didn't.

You preferred to sit on your ass and not take advantage of talking about some crap about sausages. Fact is, I never even knew about the different types of sausages. I had a helping hand from a German wrestler lets say about sausages that led me to a title match. I even forgot I was apart of Savage brand for a second because it's been so god damn long I had a match.

I think you're the biggest fuckwit in this match with your lame ass fat jokes that don't even offend me anymore, not more so you look like someone who's a homeless jealous kid who didn't get anything they deserved when they were younger. I'm going to beat the living shit out of you because I'm a far better wrestler than you, and certainly against Shawn and Brian who again, pose no competition because they didn't even speak about us.

We did, and we're going to go farther than they will. This match essentially is about me and a stupid smurf kid who looks like he comes from a place where smurfs are invented and have a height almost like one as well. I think you'll be the one that will be dropped on your fucking head because your trash talk is complete garbage, much like the silly bitch you are. You're a duckling who has no place to be in this business and is a complete utter joke.

I will be beating all of you because I deserve to be a lot higher up on the card, and I will deliver and show the entire world what violence this destructive beast is all about. I will give you smurf especially since the other two have no interest in actual wrestling to batter the living fuck out of each other, not giving a damn what the fans want. The end of the day smurf, I will be beating you for the three count in the middle of the ring because you won't be able to handle a construction site wrestler like myself. Your speed is the only thing effective against me because I could lift you with one hand. After all, you're so easy to take down. Prepared to be destroyed by the destructive beast, bitch.”]]> Kieran's fear has come into the light. Las Vegas, Nevada. Tuesday 24th November. (Off Camera)

It's during that time where Kieran's still getting used to having the responsibility of taking care of his seventeen-year-old brother, Chase Overton. He wanted to be a skateboarder and make it into being a professional one in a few years. It didn't really please Kieran because he wasn't into the sport at all. At the same time, Kieran had to accept Chase's decision and live with it, although it's still difficult for Kieran to have this responsibility still to keep an eye out on Chase.

As he saw, Kieran sat on the bench, watching his brother doing stunts on a skateboard as there were professionals on the ramp today, looking out for new talent which obviously was something Chase wanted to do. Chase had been practising every single day to be one of the top skateboarders of Las Vegas.

There were more kids, coming to sit down with Kieran, watching the skateboarding competition, some who were fans. There was a boy in their early twenties, short blond hair with a cap on back to front wanting to talk to Kieran as he asks a question.

Early Twenties kid: “Do you like skateboarding?”

Kieran Overton: “To be honest, no, I don't. I didn't come here because I wanted to, it's because I had to. See that short black-haired guy there? That's my brother, Chase. He's always wanted to do this sport. It's something he enjoys.”

Early Twenties kid: “That's awesome right, that Chase is down there, doing stunts on the skateboard. He looks pretty good to me.”

Kieran Overton: “Chase's been practising ever since my parents adopted him. They adopted him because I needed to learn to be responsible. That's what they said I had to learn. I'm not sure what to do with a brother.”

It was the first time, Kieran had a socialised conversation with the early twenties kid, he wasn't even sure why the early twenties kid was speaking to Kieran as this sport was well out of Kieran's comfort zone, even if he applauds and claps Chase. He still wasn't able to be himself, being a nasty piece of shit he was in wrestling.

Early Twenties kid: “You kidding me? You take care of Chase. He's your brother, and you should love him to death. Should play games with him or take him out somewhere for a boys night or something. I go out with my boys all the time, even if they are friends.”

Kieran Overton: “Having friends and having a brother to hang out with are two different things. I'm incapable of showing love.”

There was another kid, coming over to Kieran, seeing he spoke about his brother Chase being in there and he was eighteen years old with black hair with a cap on back to front with lots of different skate sponsors on the clothing he had.

Eighteen years old kid: “Are you blind to not even know who this is, Michael?”

Michael: “I don't know who this guy is.”

Eighteen years old kid: “This is The Destructive Beast, Kieran Overton dude. He's a professional wrestler in XWF. Do you not watch wrestling?”

Michael: “I don't, sadly, but I'm glad I know now. This is Oliver, who is a big wrestling fan as well as a skateboarding fan. This guy is saying his brother with short black hair is skating with the sponsored skaters.”

Oliver: “Oh, him? Yeah, I've seen him around before in the skate park. From what I know of him, he's excellent. Thinks he can make it as a pro and I believe him. He dedicates a lot to doing skateboarding. Also, the scores prove it that Chase is on top right now. By the way, may I have your autograph?”

This was where Kieran felt afraid, part of him wanted the kid to leave him alone and tell him to fuck off, but on the other hand, he had to be the responsible brother to Chase. For the first time in his life, despite being afraid, he nods and signed on the back of the advertisement board for the kid who claimed to be a professional wrestling fan.

Oliver: “Thank you.”

Kieran Overton: “You're welcome. Part of me wanted me to tell you to fuck off, but I got responsibilities to for fill.”

Both Oliver and Michael nodded at Kieran, understanding that he was only there to support his brother. The event organisers announce the top three winners, all of which Kieran was far from interested in. However, the winner was as Kieran stood up and clapped for Chase for getting the reward of being sponsored when their parents couldn't be there because of work they had to do.

Chase was getting the chance to skateboard with the top skateboarder of the world, and he was able to do so successfully. Chase was having a blast, and after he finished doing a demo run with the professional skateboarder, he got praised and congratulated by every skater as they bashed their skateboard on the ramp to Chase and the professional skateboarder.

He was asked a few questions as he then brought Kieran to the front. Kieran walked to the ramp and saw that he got thanked by his brother for supporting him today. Chase hugged Kieran hard, in a good way because it was full of joy. Everyone else went home as Chase went off to skate in the streets.

Michael: “You aren't going after him?”

Kieran Overton: “Na, I'm fully sure he'll be alright. He needs time to sink the moment of being a sponsored skater in.”

Oliver: “Good point.”

It did take a very long time however like thirty minutes later; Chase was still not back from skating back as Kieran fears the absolute worse, the fear that has always been on his mind, due to Chase's past, drug dealers. Kieran says to the skateboarding fans.

Kieran Overton: “Wait right here; I'll check out what's going on with my brother.”

Kieran runs where Chase skated and suddenly, from out of nowhere, they weren't drug dealers, but indeed poor people, immediately catching Chase with the cheque he got and they mocked and laughed at him.

Kieran Overton: “Oh shit, I don't know what to do here.”

Chase Overton: “Help me; they are taking my money away and beating me up.”

As much fear Kieran had on being viewed as being a softie for saving someone, he didn't like the situation, but something he had to do as he chased after the guys who took Chase's money from him and Kieran manages to catch them, and he says this.

Kieran Overton: “Going somewhere with that cheque my brother earned from winning a skateboarding competition?”

Homeless kid: “Yeah, we're going to place it in the bank. This brother of yours is far too young for money cheque he got.”

Kieran Overton: “So you don't admit stealing money from anyone, regardless of what age is wrong? I don't want ever to do this, but you guys are messing with the wrong fucking guy here. You don't have a clue what I'm capable of.”

Homeless kid: “With your fat ass? Fuck out of here; you can't do anything with that tub of lard you carry around.”

Kieran Overton: “At least this tub of lard has won titles in his profession, at least Chase has won a chance to get sponsored. I'm going to fuck you up so bad you won't even feel a damn thing.”

Kieran grabbed hold of the homeless kid by the throat and beats him up with punches to the ribs and kicking him on the floor, before giving the kid a piledriver on the pavement along with a suplex and a DDT to go along with it. The kid was down and out, having a busted skull from the damage Kieran gave to the homeless kid. He gives the cheque back to Chase who immediately hugs Kieran and cries.

Kieran Overton: “It's alright. It's my fault for being irresponsible. I'll take the blame for this.”

Chase Overton: “No, don't. I was the one who skated off to celebrate being sponsored.”

Kieran Overton: “But I let you do that. Come on; everything is fine now. We better get you home, and it's best if you give me that cheque.”

Chase nods as he was very thankful to have his big brother came around when he did as Kieran held his hand and saw Michael and Oliver came round and saw the bruises on Chase's face and Oliver asked a question.

Oliver: “What happened?”

Kieran Overton: “Some fucking idiots were trying to steal Chase's money and the contract of him being signed as a pro skateboarder away from him.”

Michael: “Sorry if they have a shit life. Chase, you did fantastic out there today. We were watching, and your skills are top-notch. Never allow those sorry assholes ruin your moment.”

Oliver: “Much like those other four bitches Kieran has to deal with that he won't let them win over him. You will be alright.”

Chase Overton: “Thanks to my big brother, I am. Thank you for the complements. I hope to continue skateboarding around here sometimes. For now, this skater is going around the world to dominate against other pro skateboarders.”

Michael: “Damn, right, you will. See you later and good luck with everything in the future, Chase.”

Michael and Oliver left as Kieran held Chase's hand as they walk out of the alleyway and as they were nearly home, Chase had a question to ask Kieran.

Chase Overton: “Did I do good out there today?”

Kieran Overton: “You did fantastically. I will take you home before your parents get home so I can fly to Tombstone, Arizona to wrestle a PPV match against Shawn, Brian and Marf this weekend. Enjoy the moment of being a professional skateboarder now. We'll be Skateboarding and Wrestling champions of the world.”

Chase Overton: “Of course we will. I can't wait to show mum and dad this contract and the amount of money I won. Whooo me going to be a professional skateboarder, none of you fuckers are.”

Kieran pats Chase's chest, showing the love of arrogance from his brother, the way his family was supposed to be. Kieran got his key out and placed it in the door for them to walk in their home, and they relaxed for a while. Kieran placed the cheque on the table for their parents to see what Chase got. Chase also placed the contract signed from a skateboarder on the table and Chase goes upstairs and plays skateboarding music. When the parents get home, Kieran leaves to go to the airport right away to Arizona.

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

This match is still mine for the taking twitch.com shoot. (On Camera)

“To be frank, I don't give a damn about Brian and Shawn Wylde anymore, they've given me nothing to counter back with so I let them say what they want about me and ten times out of ten, I wouldn't give a shit because it shows both of you lack any commitment on wanting to win this match. One hasn't bothered to mention anything about the match at all and the other spoke about his life story nobody gives a flying fuck about, especially it had nothing to do with wrestling. I don't give a shit what you do out of the ring, keep that shit off camera.

You were the only one that put up a fight, Marf or smarf I should call you because you resemble a lot of that in yourself. Otherwise, why would you call yourself marf when you know it's short being a smarf. It still makes me laugh when I think about it; still, I haven't heard of you either kid, I don't know how the fuck you even got in XWF since I was absent from this company for a bit, but here we are.

HAHA, do you know that fat jokes don't even bother me? Better than being a typical average guy who doesn't even look like a professional wrestler and you aren't the nice guy you claim to be either. What the fuck have you actually done in XWF? Nothing as far as I can count, although I haven't impressed much either, you've had way more matches than me. You are pathetic.

It seems you're fucking happy to be on the pre-show, are you fucking kidding me? Nobody with a ton of talent like you have should be. I'm certainly not, especially not coming from having a Heartless title match against Bobby and some irrelevant fool named Greggo who's named after Greggs bakery place. I still did better than him in the match, and I took advantage of the heartless title opportunity when guys like you didn't.

You preferred to sit on your ass and not take advantage of talking about some crap about sausages. Fact is, I never even knew about the different types of sausages. I had a helping hand from a German wrestler lets say about sausages that led me to a title match. I even forgot I was apart of Savage brand for a second because it's been so god damn long I had a match.

I think you're the biggest fuckwit in this match with your lame ass fat jokes that don't even offend me anymore, not more so you look like someone who's a homeless jealous kid who didn't get anything they deserved when they were younger. I'm going to beat the living shit out of you because I'm a far better wrestler than you, and certainly against Shawn and Brian who again, pose no competition because they didn't even speak about us.

We did, and we're going to go farther than they will. This match essentially is about me and a stupid smurf kid who looks like he comes from a place where smurfs are invented and have a height almost like one as well. I think you'll be the one that will be dropped on your fucking head because your trash talk is complete garbage, much like the silly bitch you are. You're a duckling who has no place to be in this business and is a complete utter joke.

I will be beating all of you because I deserve to be a lot higher up on the card, and I will deliver and show the entire world what violence this destructive beast is all about. I will give you smurf especially since the other two have no interest in actual wrestling to batter the living fuck out of each other, not giving a damn what the fans want. The end of the day smurf, I will be beating you for the three count in the middle of the ring because you won't be able to handle a construction site wrestler like myself. Your speed is the only thing effective against me because I could lift you with one hand. After all, you're so easy to take down. Prepared to be destroyed by the destructive beast, bitch.”]]> <![CDATA[Of Love and Sacrifice, Disappearance and Ultimate Return]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39017 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:24:39 -0800 Azrael Erebus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39017 "See, now I think Hayden, resembles me."


Donovan states with an amused expression, accenting his face as he holds the tiny infant up, so others in the room can make the comparison.


"It's like he already realizes, how disappointing society is going to be as a whole and has settled into acceptance. I'm fairly certain I made this same exact expression, after I came into existence and was exposed to the world around me. I simply foretold the future like an all knowing soothsayer and predicted that I was going to be utterly bored, unless I created my own entertainment."


Arching an eyebrow, Donovan glances over at Hayden, briefly scrunches up his nose in mock disgust and then breaks out into laughter, shaking his head.


"And then, I promptly defecated myself because I hadn't learned to become mobile on my own yet, which is precisely what Hayden did just now."


"I think in your case, that's because even at that young of an age, you were full of shit. Much like you are to this very day."


Lila replies with a sarcastic smirk as she takes Hayden from Donovan, walking swiftly off to the nursery to aid this scenario, by changing the baby's diaper. As she departs, Donovan makes the effort to holler after her, forever and always needing that final word.


"Very nice. Such love, my sister, why I'm practically overwhelmed. It's a shame I didn't get to grow up under the same roof as you."


After which, he glances around and gives a nod in approval to himself, speaking very proudly of his own efforts.


"Well, I had face time with the babies, Hayden's... occupied now and Aurora is out like a light. I've done my brotherly duties for the evening. Time to smoke."


He finishes talking as he begins reaching into the left breast pocket of his suit jacket but before he can remove anything, Griffin MacAlister strolls past him and pats him on the shoulder. Progressing past Donovan, Griffin momentarily turns in his direction, blunt unlit but firmly held in place within his mouth and says.


"Way ahead of ya man."


Then opens the front door and steps out onto the porch, with Donovan in tow. Right as the door closes, the blunt fires up and passes from Griffin to Donovan. Which brings a grin to Donovan's face, right before he hits it and hands it back to The Mechanic.


"This is why you're my favorite brother, Griffin and we aren't even related. Not even by marriage. Such a tragedy... oh well, shit happens. You're still family in my eyes."


While Donovan exhales a cloud of smoke, Griffin takes a pull off of the blunt, releasing a sigh that slightly allows smoke to expel from his nose.


"Yeah, well maybe I aim to change that status, and make things all official like."


"Oh really? Meaning what?"


"Meaning, it might be about time to take that next fuckin' step, seems right given my current circumstances and living situation with Lila. Things are going good between us. What the shit am I waitin' on, y'know? Doesn't make a good god damn lick of sense but I plan on fixing the blunder, real soon."


Transfers the blunt to Donovan.


"I'll be damned. That's awesome, mainly because I get to be the first to know your intentions and what lies ahead but also cause that means you're marrying my sister. Oh holy shiza, I really hope you invite Sebastian Duke to the wedding. I wanna see him in a setting, where he has to wear formal attire. I think that would be the best, I bet his suit was crafted in the early 18th century and was passed down to him. From generation to generation. Surviving primarily by the grace of god and a good supply of moth balls. He's probably got a cane and top hat too, even though he's tall and the hat would look awkward on him. The jacket is made of velvet, with tails and he positively has gloves, that have been starched white. Looks like he's going out to attend the opera and he absolutely intends to arrive in a horse drawn carriage. I can totally picture it."


These words are accompanied by a snicker as Donovan dips his head forward a bit and intakes a toke from the blunt.


"And it's fucking great."


Another laugh, that comes out with a short cough and he gives the blunt back to Griffin.


"Interesting."


This simple word that is spoken rather suddenly, manages to startle the crap out of Donovan and he swiftly averts his attention to the source; located on his left, whilst simultaneously coughing up a storm of smoke. Where Azrael stands, smoking a cigar. The sight of the spaceman causes Donovan to blurt out excitedly, through choking.


"Sweet Jesus! How long were you standing there?!?!"


"Not long. I decided to break out a device and utilize it."


He holds up his hand revealing, a secondary ring, slipped onto a finger on the same hand as his wedding band.


"It's a teleportation ring. Takes the wearer wherever they want to go, they merely need to think of the destination and they are there. Lila has one and I'm pretty sure Theo Pryce, still has the ring that I gave to him."


"You just have a collection of these rings lying around?"


"Not a collection but some. I figured I'd teleport to my match at High Stakes."


"That's cheating! You went on and on about not having powers anymore, only to teleport to the event."


"It's not cheating and I don't have powers, that doesn't take away from the fact that I'm a brilliant inventor and explorer. I created these rings, with nothing more than my wits and knack for discovering rare objects of value. Besides, I decided I should make an entrance, after being absent from the squared circle for so long, while certain other aspects prevented me from being less active, when it comes to combat."


"Speaking of which, you did get cleared to perform, right?"


Huff in annoyance.


"Why does everyone keep asking me that?!?! I get it, I almost died, after having to basically gut myself with a ceremonial dagger and now, I have a wicked scar that is never going away. I'm perfectly fine though... better than fine, I am fantastic and I'm ready to get in that ring and kick some ass. So can you give me a break and please let me do that and stop all the worrying because it's making me crazy, at this point."


"I'm sorry, this is new for me, I'm not used to the things you can do, I grew up on Earth and I'm half human, I wasn't born the same way as you. Not completely. Even though I am your son. Thus making all this shit, foreign concepts for me to wrap my mind around and therefore, I have concerns."


"Your concerns are noted and appreciated but unnecessary. I was born on Ozuul and what might seem strange here on Earth is commonplace there. For instance, the men can carry children and in my true alien form, my dick and balls... the goods, well they can invert and I also... have a tail."


"What the what?!?! You have a tail."


Donovan tries his best to stifle a giggle but fails for the most part.


"It's really more like a nub, still it is not something I go around announcing. Think of the equivalent of a belly button, except the way that babies develop is different on Ozuul. Instead of a belly button, I have a nub. Anyways..."


Sigh.


"Trust me. If I believed there was an absolute, overwhelming risk and the chances of survival weren't there, I wouldn't wrestle."


"Fine. I trust you. Just be careful, okay?"


"You have my word. I shall do nothing less."


Smirking at Griffin's silence, Azrael rids his voice of the exasperation he was starting to feel and alters his tone to sounding, far more pleasant.


"Anything you want to add, Griffin and get it out of the way. Since you're the only one that hasn't said a word in regards to anything."


"No ways, I'm fucking Sweden over here, I have no opinion. Whatsoever. I am neutral. I'm looking forward to dinner because I'm hella starved, but that is it. Otherwise I'm chillin' with the crickets."


And so the discussion ends there, with Donovan and Azrael chuckling at Griffin's comments as they enter the house. The smell of pot roast, potatoes and asparagus, emanating from the kitchen, enticing hunger. You wish you weren't transparent and could eat food, alas you cannot.




A couple of months prior.


Azrael Erebus exited his downstairs laboratory and entered the living room, looking rather pleased with himself, almost as if he accomplished a goal or found a solution for a specific problem. As the silent, ineffective, invisible watcher this instantly raised your curiosity. What was that spaceman up to now. Seated on the sofa, Rebel Star watched tv in the living room. Plucking an apple from a basket, located on the coffee table, situated in front of it, Azrael dropped into a sitting position next to Rebel and took a bite of the polished, red fruit. He gazed at her for several seconds as he chewed and then swallowed.


"I did it!"


"You did what?"


Rebel placed her focus on Azrael, clearly perplexed.


"I found the answer to our dilemma."


Still baffled, Rebel tilted her head and if she didn't know what he was going on about, neither did you. You were hanging out in the living room watching "Republic of Doyle" while Azrael was working in his laboratory. It was one of those days and you were feeling rather fixated to a decided spot... in other words, you were stuck and couldn't do much about it. The life of an unseen, unproductive, observer was not an easy existence, sometimes you had to accept your fate and hope for an eventual change of scenery. At least something was finally happening. Taking a step forward, you marveled at your granted movement and celebrated the ability to journey closer, for better hearing. It sure took long enough. Meanwhile, on the couch, Azrael sighed and settled back, gesturing with the apple as if he were about to mention an event that previously happened, to clarify things for Rebel.


"What we discussed."


Well that wasn't very revealing, now was it?


"Last night. In bed."


Once again, that didn't help you out at all, you tried to actively avoid being aware of the stuff that occurred in the bedroom, even if you had to close your eyes and stick your fingers inside your ears, while laying curled up on the floor in a ball. That usually did the trick and worked. Lots of "activities" transpired there and you weren't some kind of pervert. Eventually you would pass out and wake up somewhere else.


"We talked about it before too. Having kids."


"I told you before, I can't have children, I wasn't created with that ability."


"And I mentioned there was a solution that didn't involve you being the source of the incubation process. There are other ways. One definite way, that I already knew of anyway. I mean, I didn't know for absolute certain but with trial and error, came a positive conclusion and I was successful."


"Wait. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"


"That depends, what do you think I'm saying?"


'You're growing a baby in a test tube."


"No. Not at all."


Azrael laughed.


"I'm saying that I accepted the task, used a bit of me and a dash of you and impregnated myself. The males on Ozuul can carry children, the only difficult part is the delivery, it involves a big blade and extracting the offspring, myself. Tradition. It's considered sacred and the ritual must be upheld."


"That's insane. So you up and did this without telling me???"


"We talked about it last night. Sort of... there was no determined plan but I assumed it was implied. I said I was going to figure it out. So I did that. Tada! Problem solved. "


"That means..."


"I'm a pregnant spaceman. Yes. A man, with child."


"Wow. I don't know what to say? What does that entail? Fully?"


"The gestation period lasts two months. I take a break from wrestling and when the time comes, I use a ceremonial dagger to remove the infant from my body. I'm thinking the bathtub will be my best bet, there's going to be quite a lot of blood. There is still time to plan stuff though."


"I wish you weren't this impulsive but I guess, it's too late to reverse things now."


"Oh yeah, an embryo fuses with the host's essence and clings on, the only way to terminate the pregnancy, would be to kill me and I can't regenerate anymore, so I'd be dead and gone for good. This is a done deal."


"Then there is no way around it, we're doing this my love and as always, I am here for you."


You watched, mouth agape, in utter shock. Such sacrifice, it was tremendous and impactful. Either Azrael went off the deep end completely or he really loved Rebel Star. You prayed that he survived the procedure.




[Image: zzbtDlF.gif]


"Ah, yes... so I am involved in this number one contender match at High Stakes, for the Television title and I'm facing Jim Jimson and Broken Oswald Autem, in order to gain the privilege of facing the champion. I'm personally looking forward to it too. Quite a bit of time has passed, since I participated in battle and to have it be a fight, leading to the possibility of obtaining a title that I hold in high regard, that's amazing. I know there's been speculation as to why I stepped away for awhile but rest assured, I had my reasons and they were legitimate. Now I'm back though and I'm thrilled."


"Even when it came to fighting, Jim Jimson and I know that I swore I wouldn't view his promo but bygone it, I watched it and was filled with instant regret. I think I might be a subconscious masochist cause why else would I do that to myself? He rambles and stumbles over his thoughts while he's simultaneously, speaking them aloud. There's no functional thinking involved. He merely opens his mouth and there is sound, which I suppose the fact that it's released in word form, can be counted as a plus. The man could walk out and simply start screaming. No words, nothing but a continuous, loud and undistinguishable noise. He already chatters to himself, that can't be far off in his future. I just thank the sanctioned gods, it hasn't happened yet."


"Anyway, he yammers on about fucking incoherent blather, for a spell and fades away. That was his promo. Whatever, I simply will have to make the best of things and keep my eyes on the prize. Namely, the contendership and when it comes to the match and Jim Jimson, I imagine he'll take himself out of the equation. Start an argument with himself and have it come to actual blows. Wake up and think he pinned himself, hours later. He already has a false perception of pretty much everything, why would that be too far fetched? His logic and reasoning skills are fucking warped."


"Which brings me to Broken Oswald Autem. For the life of me, I can't conceive what that man even is... or how he observes himself? When he looks in the mirror, does he know thine true self or is it as obscure of a mystery as it is to me. There's strange phenomenon and weirdness that surrounds him. He's like an abstract painting, in a room with very dim lighting and smoke, I can't make him out for what he really could be and something tells me, he wouldn't have a straight answer to give me, if I bothered to inquire. That means I must treat him like the maximum threat and go on immediate attack. Prepare for anything and assume it's all possible, I have no choice in the matter."


"I am no longer blessed with the ability to regenerate, I can't take the punishment that I have endured in the past, so I have to do everything in my power to prevent that from happening and take him down first. I can do this... I know I can, I may not have otherworldly abilities but I am a warrior and I am strong. Backing down or failing to fight are not terms in my vocabulary. Not anymore. I used to laugh off a loss and tell myself, what does it matter, I'm only facing mere humans. In the end, they cannot truly injure me. No longer can I do that and if I want to prove that I can stand and fight and be victorious, I can't mess around anymore. It's time to get serious and I intend to do precisely that... no more mister nice spaceman. We're getting fucking real now and to those standing in my way, you will fall in my wake cause this is the age of Azrael and I'm not playing, anymore."


"End transmission."]]> "See, now I think Hayden, resembles me."


Donovan states with an amused expression, accenting his face as he holds the tiny infant up, so others in the room can make the comparison.


"It's like he already realizes, how disappointing society is going to be as a whole and has settled into acceptance. I'm fairly certain I made this same exact expression, after I came into existence and was exposed to the world around me. I simply foretold the future like an all knowing soothsayer and predicted that I was going to be utterly bored, unless I created my own entertainment."


Arching an eyebrow, Donovan glances over at Hayden, briefly scrunches up his nose in mock disgust and then breaks out into laughter, shaking his head.


"And then, I promptly defecated myself because I hadn't learned to become mobile on my own yet, which is precisely what Hayden did just now."


"I think in your case, that's because even at that young of an age, you were full of shit. Much like you are to this very day."


Lila replies with a sarcastic smirk as she takes Hayden from Donovan, walking swiftly off to the nursery to aid this scenario, by changing the baby's diaper. As she departs, Donovan makes the effort to holler after her, forever and always needing that final word.


"Very nice. Such love, my sister, why I'm practically overwhelmed. It's a shame I didn't get to grow up under the same roof as you."


After which, he glances around and gives a nod in approval to himself, speaking very proudly of his own efforts.


"Well, I had face time with the babies, Hayden's... occupied now and Aurora is out like a light. I've done my brotherly duties for the evening. Time to smoke."


He finishes talking as he begins reaching into the left breast pocket of his suit jacket but before he can remove anything, Griffin MacAlister strolls past him and pats him on the shoulder. Progressing past Donovan, Griffin momentarily turns in his direction, blunt unlit but firmly held in place within his mouth and says.


"Way ahead of ya man."


Then opens the front door and steps out onto the porch, with Donovan in tow. Right as the door closes, the blunt fires up and passes from Griffin to Donovan. Which brings a grin to Donovan's face, right before he hits it and hands it back to The Mechanic.


"This is why you're my favorite brother, Griffin and we aren't even related. Not even by marriage. Such a tragedy... oh well, shit happens. You're still family in my eyes."


While Donovan exhales a cloud of smoke, Griffin takes a pull off of the blunt, releasing a sigh that slightly allows smoke to expel from his nose.


"Yeah, well maybe I aim to change that status, and make things all official like."


"Oh really? Meaning what?"


"Meaning, it might be about time to take that next fuckin' step, seems right given my current circumstances and living situation with Lila. Things are going good between us. What the shit am I waitin' on, y'know? Doesn't make a good god damn lick of sense but I plan on fixing the blunder, real soon."


Transfers the blunt to Donovan.


"I'll be damned. That's awesome, mainly because I get to be the first to know your intentions and what lies ahead but also cause that means you're marrying my sister. Oh holy shiza, I really hope you invite Sebastian Duke to the wedding. I wanna see him in a setting, where he has to wear formal attire. I think that would be the best, I bet his suit was crafted in the early 18th century and was passed down to him. From generation to generation. Surviving primarily by the grace of god and a good supply of moth balls. He's probably got a cane and top hat too, even though he's tall and the hat would look awkward on him. The jacket is made of velvet, with tails and he positively has gloves, that have been starched white. Looks like he's going out to attend the opera and he absolutely intends to arrive in a horse drawn carriage. I can totally picture it."


These words are accompanied by a snicker as Donovan dips his head forward a bit and intakes a toke from the blunt.


"And it's fucking great."


Another laugh, that comes out with a short cough and he gives the blunt back to Griffin.


"Interesting."


This simple word that is spoken rather suddenly, manages to startle the crap out of Donovan and he swiftly averts his attention to the source; located on his left, whilst simultaneously coughing up a storm of smoke. Where Azrael stands, smoking a cigar. The sight of the spaceman causes Donovan to blurt out excitedly, through choking.


"Sweet Jesus! How long were you standing there?!?!"


"Not long. I decided to break out a device and utilize it."


He holds up his hand revealing, a secondary ring, slipped onto a finger on the same hand as his wedding band.


"It's a teleportation ring. Takes the wearer wherever they want to go, they merely need to think of the destination and they are there. Lila has one and I'm pretty sure Theo Pryce, still has the ring that I gave to him."


"You just have a collection of these rings lying around?"


"Not a collection but some. I figured I'd teleport to my match at High Stakes."


"That's cheating! You went on and on about not having powers anymore, only to teleport to the event."


"It's not cheating and I don't have powers, that doesn't take away from the fact that I'm a brilliant inventor and explorer. I created these rings, with nothing more than my wits and knack for discovering rare objects of value. Besides, I decided I should make an entrance, after being absent from the squared circle for so long, while certain other aspects prevented me from being less active, when it comes to combat."


"Speaking of which, you did get cleared to perform, right?"


Huff in annoyance.


"Why does everyone keep asking me that?!?! I get it, I almost died, after having to basically gut myself with a ceremonial dagger and now, I have a wicked scar that is never going away. I'm perfectly fine though... better than fine, I am fantastic and I'm ready to get in that ring and kick some ass. So can you give me a break and please let me do that and stop all the worrying because it's making me crazy, at this point."


"I'm sorry, this is new for me, I'm not used to the things you can do, I grew up on Earth and I'm half human, I wasn't born the same way as you. Not completely. Even though I am your son. Thus making all this shit, foreign concepts for me to wrap my mind around and therefore, I have concerns."


"Your concerns are noted and appreciated but unnecessary. I was born on Ozuul and what might seem strange here on Earth is commonplace there. For instance, the men can carry children and in my true alien form, my dick and balls... the goods, well they can invert and I also... have a tail."


"What the what?!?! You have a tail."


Donovan tries his best to stifle a giggle but fails for the most part.


"It's really more like a nub, still it is not something I go around announcing. Think of the equivalent of a belly button, except the way that babies develop is different on Ozuul. Instead of a belly button, I have a nub. Anyways..."


Sigh.


"Trust me. If I believed there was an absolute, overwhelming risk and the chances of survival weren't there, I wouldn't wrestle."


"Fine. I trust you. Just be careful, okay?"


"You have my word. I shall do nothing less."


Smirking at Griffin's silence, Azrael rids his voice of the exasperation he was starting to feel and alters his tone to sounding, far more pleasant.


"Anything you want to add, Griffin and get it out of the way. Since you're the only one that hasn't said a word in regards to anything."


"No ways, I'm fucking Sweden over here, I have no opinion. Whatsoever. I am neutral. I'm looking forward to dinner because I'm hella starved, but that is it. Otherwise I'm chillin' with the crickets."


And so the discussion ends there, with Donovan and Azrael chuckling at Griffin's comments as they enter the house. The smell of pot roast, potatoes and asparagus, emanating from the kitchen, enticing hunger. You wish you weren't transparent and could eat food, alas you cannot.




A couple of months prior.


Azrael Erebus exited his downstairs laboratory and entered the living room, looking rather pleased with himself, almost as if he accomplished a goal or found a solution for a specific problem. As the silent, ineffective, invisible watcher this instantly raised your curiosity. What was that spaceman up to now. Seated on the sofa, Rebel Star watched tv in the living room. Plucking an apple from a basket, located on the coffee table, situated in front of it, Azrael dropped into a sitting position next to Rebel and took a bite of the polished, red fruit. He gazed at her for several seconds as he chewed and then swallowed.


"I did it!"


"You did what?"


Rebel placed her focus on Azrael, clearly perplexed.


"I found the answer to our dilemma."


Still baffled, Rebel tilted her head and if she didn't know what he was going on about, neither did you. You were hanging out in the living room watching "Republic of Doyle" while Azrael was working in his laboratory. It was one of those days and you were feeling rather fixated to a decided spot... in other words, you were stuck and couldn't do much about it. The life of an unseen, unproductive, observer was not an easy existence, sometimes you had to accept your fate and hope for an eventual change of scenery. At least something was finally happening. Taking a step forward, you marveled at your granted movement and celebrated the ability to journey closer, for better hearing. It sure took long enough. Meanwhile, on the couch, Azrael sighed and settled back, gesturing with the apple as if he were about to mention an event that previously happened, to clarify things for Rebel.


"What we discussed."


Well that wasn't very revealing, now was it?


"Last night. In bed."


Once again, that didn't help you out at all, you tried to actively avoid being aware of the stuff that occurred in the bedroom, even if you had to close your eyes and stick your fingers inside your ears, while laying curled up on the floor in a ball. That usually did the trick and worked. Lots of "activities" transpired there and you weren't some kind of pervert. Eventually you would pass out and wake up somewhere else.


"We talked about it before too. Having kids."


"I told you before, I can't have children, I wasn't created with that ability."


"And I mentioned there was a solution that didn't involve you being the source of the incubation process. There are other ways. One definite way, that I already knew of anyway. I mean, I didn't know for absolute certain but with trial and error, came a positive conclusion and I was successful."


"Wait. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"


"That depends, what do you think I'm saying?"


'You're growing a baby in a test tube."


"No. Not at all."


Azrael laughed.


"I'm saying that I accepted the task, used a bit of me and a dash of you and impregnated myself. The males on Ozuul can carry children, the only difficult part is the delivery, it involves a big blade and extracting the offspring, myself. Tradition. It's considered sacred and the ritual must be upheld."


"That's insane. So you up and did this without telling me???"


"We talked about it last night. Sort of... there was no determined plan but I assumed it was implied. I said I was going to figure it out. So I did that. Tada! Problem solved. "


"That means..."


"I'm a pregnant spaceman. Yes. A man, with child."


"Wow. I don't know what to say? What does that entail? Fully?"


"The gestation period lasts two months. I take a break from wrestling and when the time comes, I use a ceremonial dagger to remove the infant from my body. I'm thinking the bathtub will be my best bet, there's going to be quite a lot of blood. There is still time to plan stuff though."


"I wish you weren't this impulsive but I guess, it's too late to reverse things now."


"Oh yeah, an embryo fuses with the host's essence and clings on, the only way to terminate the pregnancy, would be to kill me and I can't regenerate anymore, so I'd be dead and gone for good. This is a done deal."


"Then there is no way around it, we're doing this my love and as always, I am here for you."


You watched, mouth agape, in utter shock. Such sacrifice, it was tremendous and impactful. Either Azrael went off the deep end completely or he really loved Rebel Star. You prayed that he survived the procedure.




[Image: zzbtDlF.gif]


"Ah, yes... so I am involved in this number one contender match at High Stakes, for the Television title and I'm facing Jim Jimson and Broken Oswald Autem, in order to gain the privilege of facing the champion. I'm personally looking forward to it too. Quite a bit of time has passed, since I participated in battle and to have it be a fight, leading to the possibility of obtaining a title that I hold in high regard, that's amazing. I know there's been speculation as to why I stepped away for awhile but rest assured, I had my reasons and they were legitimate. Now I'm back though and I'm thrilled."


"Even when it came to fighting, Jim Jimson and I know that I swore I wouldn't view his promo but bygone it, I watched it and was filled with instant regret. I think I might be a subconscious masochist cause why else would I do that to myself? He rambles and stumbles over his thoughts while he's simultaneously, speaking them aloud. There's no functional thinking involved. He merely opens his mouth and there is sound, which I suppose the fact that it's released in word form, can be counted as a plus. The man could walk out and simply start screaming. No words, nothing but a continuous, loud and undistinguishable noise. He already chatters to himself, that can't be far off in his future. I just thank the sanctioned gods, it hasn't happened yet."


"Anyway, he yammers on about fucking incoherent blather, for a spell and fades away. That was his promo. Whatever, I simply will have to make the best of things and keep my eyes on the prize. Namely, the contendership and when it comes to the match and Jim Jimson, I imagine he'll take himself out of the equation. Start an argument with himself and have it come to actual blows. Wake up and think he pinned himself, hours later. He already has a false perception of pretty much everything, why would that be too far fetched? His logic and reasoning skills are fucking warped."


"Which brings me to Broken Oswald Autem. For the life of me, I can't conceive what that man even is... or how he observes himself? When he looks in the mirror, does he know thine true self or is it as obscure of a mystery as it is to me. There's strange phenomenon and weirdness that surrounds him. He's like an abstract painting, in a room with very dim lighting and smoke, I can't make him out for what he really could be and something tells me, he wouldn't have a straight answer to give me, if I bothered to inquire. That means I must treat him like the maximum threat and go on immediate attack. Prepare for anything and assume it's all possible, I have no choice in the matter."


"I am no longer blessed with the ability to regenerate, I can't take the punishment that I have endured in the past, so I have to do everything in my power to prevent that from happening and take him down first. I can do this... I know I can, I may not have otherworldly abilities but I am a warrior and I am strong. Backing down or failing to fight are not terms in my vocabulary. Not anymore. I used to laugh off a loss and tell myself, what does it matter, I'm only facing mere humans. In the end, they cannot truly injure me. No longer can I do that and if I want to prove that I can stand and fight and be victorious, I can't mess around anymore. It's time to get serious and I intend to do precisely that... no more mister nice spaceman. We're getting fucking real now and to those standing in my way, you will fall in my wake cause this is the age of Azrael and I'm not playing, anymore."


"End transmission."]]> <![CDATA[Shadow of Venus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38968 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:23:58 -0800 Atara Raven]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=38968

[Image: G5nsTxT.png]
The face of a name you've only heard, never given physical form, alluded to by metaphor. Round and radiant faced Selene, daughter of Helios, that lunar titaness who oft is mentioned in Atara Themis' story. She appears once more and as before, perched on her heavenly throne, she sits as sentinel of the night ever watchful of a favored daughter of Hellas. High above the city of grey eyed Athena, she held with debauched amusement the object of her attention. She played celestial voyeur, peeping into the Mount Latmus that was Atara's home.

Atara, lost to the whims of the oldest of gods, unaware of her holy audience unknowingly brought Selene's memory to vivid life. Pulled from ancient emotions and sprung to the titaness' minds eye the many times she had visited her Endymion. A primal display, Luna's charge moved in seeming rhythm with the ebb and flow of the ocean's tide. A tide Selene could control, a tide this fast becoming concupiscent divinity was finding hard to not manipulate. Desirous as she was, a restraint was shown unfamiliar of the Greek pantheon. Nay, she remained up on high and wouldn't interfere.

Selene would keep watch, keep to herself. She would play her lyre and hum her praise with sapphic hymn. Satisfied, the moon above Athens shone brighter.

[Image: D0ozRwO.png]


[Image: 21wOfwA.png]


"Ay, wicked men never elude pure Themis: night and day her eyes are on them, and the wide world through above the tribes of men she floats in air, holpen of Zeus, for punishment of sin."

[Image: BjMQpHy.png]

Delphi, yet another name from the story of Atara. A place visited, a part of the tale abandoned in the name of conformity. Here is the place of the navel of world and the seat from which Themis indoctrinated mankind with those primal laws governing human conduct. She of Good Counsel whispering through her Pythia. The world knows her best, the blinded lady bearing sword and scales. The Oracle is her home.

The center of the Hellenestic world, in modern times it holds a different significance. That place Atara first rose to some prominence. Where she raised the eyebrows of monsters dark and terrible. For her it wasn't the sensual utterance of another Champion's name but here that she planted her flag. This place is why you fear her. Why you lay awake wondering what Atty you've invoked and summoned for battle. Why you pray she disappears again, hope for disinterest.

This place is the reason the Gilmours and Thunder Knuckles feel the need to elevate themselves when her name is matched opposite theirs. The reason kings of XWF have worshipped and bent to her will. Why our Queens beat the drums of war when her presence is felt. Its Mecca. Her place of ascension.

And she did nought but bathe in hallow water and stand defiant to a harbinger of doom. Pugnacious. Literate. Atara.

Still in Athens, Atara had not been back since Christmas of last year. Defiant as she had been then, omens spoke against her and a gilded tongue had lured her away with promise. Misfortune had shook her faith. A fickle thing, not even Gods could hold her sway. The ruins were lifeless, save one. Atara's namesake, Themis

Sat upon a delphic tripod were her great temple once stood whole, she was motionless. Wilderness and the elements her only companions she sat unaffected by either. Alabaster flesh was wrapped in crimson cloth tightly round her form and the same formed a hood atop her head. Her face hidden in shadow was stoic and from the void eyes of only sclera peered out. The direction of her gaze was indiscernible, not even a subtle rise or fall of her chest. Lifeless, save the subtle twitch and toying of a laurel in one hand.

In the Titaness' mind the threads of fate would unwind retelling stories of past and present. Images of warriors across the eons of time. Sifting through them all she settled on Christmas Christmas discussed before. Found the favoured daughter of Olympus and from the tapestry of time plucked that thread alone.

Pulled tight in her mind, she followed the length of thread from one end. The length of Ataras life until she reached Christmas day once again. All a haze, even for her yet a phrase the goddess.

Fuck Hope.

She moved forward until seeing the tiny and minuscule form of Jenny Myst. Defeated then as champion. No command given, no gesture, a mist would rise from the ground. From crack and crevice, a fog straight from Gaia surrounded her and her eyes became white as Selene's moon. Lips parted so that a ethereal song could escape.

"A time shall come when from your tree the gold shall be despoiled, and of that spoil a daughter of Venus shall boast."

There then gone. Carried on the wind to it's intended target. Her voice was no more and back to thread she went. Further into the future til she was met with that haze. Once more she heard...

"Fuck Hope."

Pushing the thread from her mind the mist dissipated while Themis stood her perch. She stepped forward laurel in hand.

"Themis, loved by all, careful not to shine too bright.
The seas will part and giants once more take flight."

There then gone, Themis tossed her laurel to the ground where it bust to flame. Smoke rose up where she would have been.

[Image: ZBpB3oy.gif]


[Image: 21wOfwA.png]


[Image: Xi5O22S.png]

Promotions where clamouring for her again. Film roles had been pouring in. The Palaestra was doing well. Just cleared by the doctor, and XWF seemed intent on keeping her in title contention. Her birthday had come. Atara had every reason to be in a celebratory mood and celebrate she had. Surrounded by friends and family in her little 12 room Greek estate, the world seemed to be her oyster.

From round the world, from different companies, different professions, they had flocked in. Even for being a mostly private event, little fanfare, her house had been full and was still mostly full as far as she knew. The revelry had come to its end and those who could or needed to had left. Those unable, were sleeping the effects off somewhere. Bacchanalian? Perhaps, but we'll paint the picture and let the viewer infer for themselves.

"Somewhere in my house." A harrowing thought

Harrowing enough for her to leave the warmth of a shower to inspect the fallout. Wrapped in a towel and neglecting the cascade of water soaked locks at her back, Atara started to make way through her home.

The adjacent master bedroom was first of course. Holding the towel in place with one hand, she eased the door open with the other already certain of mostly what waited on the otherside.

Dimly lit, save for the unusually bright glow from outside, aegean blue irises could make out shape and form. The bed, bundled in comforter and sheets she spotted Dimitris Vitalis. Right where he was left, the GCC middleweight and newest addition to Themis Palaestra was soundly asleep.

"Good," Atara thought has she scurried across hard wood to a nearby shelf. A silver frame meticulously placed face down was turned up right. James Raven's smug grin was held within, his signature scribbled across. Atara blushed looking over shoulder then back to her memorabilia. Sometimes she felt watched and the picture was to blame. It matters little though, restored to his rightful place she moved on towards her bedroom door where an oddly shaped lump layed.

Light as a feather Atara moved forward, her mind racing at who it might be. Piecing her own timeline together in her mind Atara knelt down for a closure inspection. She couldn't recall anyone else being in the room. Hadn't heard anyone enter. The party had been a wild affair but not that.....

Wide eyed and horror filled surprise sprung to her face once the silhouettes identity had become clear. Inwardly Atara began immediately begging the gods for mental clarity. To not let what could have happened happen. The heap on her floor, this passed out behemoth snuggled tight with the recent gift of a stuffed Kangaroo. A gift from Noah buried deep in a bosom covered with a BoB t-shirt.......

......Thunder Knuckles.

Pulling her towel tighter, Atara shuddered a little in disgust. As good a friend as he was, the thought was appalling. Worse, the idea of her present being drenched in beer odored drool. She reached for it only to be met with fierce opposition. He jerked violently away, still asleep, only to reward her with mutter.

"It's mine Knickles! I'll fuck you up!"

Brows furrowed in amusement and Atara had to stifle a giggle. She reached again and was denied again.

"No Means No Jimmy!"

[White]"Well, enough of that," she thought. She would honor the roos sacrifice later, and lie to Noah should he ever ask. Still naked, Atara needed to address the issue of dressing while not waking her sleep over guest.

She had stood and started towards her closet when the most peculiar sound came from behind. A subtle coo then a flutter of wings. It seemed inviting the call, irresistible. Atara turned on heels and went to the hall stepping over TK in process. Peeking across the threshold her eyes fell on the pristine white feathers of a Dove.

Perched atop a table it looked at her. Expressionless yet still smiling at her. It coo'd again and flutter further into the house. Not entirely of her own volition, the Grecian followed. It would stop and call then flutter off and Atara kept the hunt until the point she had found herself outside on her patio.

The Acropolis stood vigil and in view over her home. Glowing with stage light accompanied by Selene's silvered gaze. Seemed almost new, alive. There was no sign of her Dove but this temple she had seen a thousand times had stolen her attentions. Atara moved to her balconies edge, folded holding her makeshift vestment in place.

Unnoticeable at first, that cotton garb started to slip and when Atara tried adjusted she was awestruck when it began to dissipate altogether. Particles in the wind she stood glistening before the heavens.

[Image: DLf7uG7.png]

First TK, the bird, now this! She hadn't been that drunk. Had only slightly partaken in other activity. Atara thought she was sober. A chill froze her solid. A voice, heavenly and feminine came from behind.

"I'm flattered girl, but still, nice as you are...you are not me."

Fingers found themselves gently grasping at Ataras shoulder. As if on a turntable Atara was spun coming face to face with that laughter loving beauty.

[Image: UKEKyaa.png]

To Be Cont...


[Image: 21wOfwA.png]

"Hello Doves."
[Image: Vl1riFm.png]

"Here we are at the cusp of conclusion."

"Their fate, already decided, was prognosticated the second the stakes were revealed. The instant my name was scribed on the card."

"An admirable fervor they showcased in the beginning. Firing the first volley, a hot barrage of barreling metal aimed right at my chest. They expected disinterest, expected I would not care."

"They expected I wanted only a bit of the limelight."

"Then I spoke."

"When I speak, they listen. Reined in by just my words, where is that fervor now?"

"Did Hecate not listen? Did the locker room stop paying attention?"

"Where the both of you...dismissed."

"Of course"

"Remember what I told you. You bask in the radiance of my star. You've crept to close and no, this isn't me spouting the lesson of Icarus. There's no fall from heaven for the two of you. Mine is a wrath that burns hotter than Prometheus flame. You will burn and you will burn in haste. Combust on the spot.

"Tombstone, aptly named Doves."

"Not because I am macabre or carry a morbid fascination with death. I am no sadist, the contrary to be exact. Not because I believe I will be allowed to prance prim and proper to the ring and murder you most literal and foul, but because this is where your hope dies."

"Poof, to purgatory and there is Dante to save it."

"Grim and forboding Lycana, Dove, do be careful when you try to play prophet. Pinch out that flame of an idea that you are special. Did Hades come to you dear Persphone? Are you to be carried away to that throne room in hell. To reign at his left side?"

"Yes, the left. Closest the heart, that organ symbolic of all worldly desire. That is my domain woman. My name has escaped that goats lips as well and you would do good to remember...

"Pleasure begets pain. Be rough and violent as you care to be. Just know, my whispers are what have left you quivering at night."

"Halocen, I have rattled my brain and scoured every dictionary and thesaurus I could to make this as simple for you as I could. I'm sorry my big words and haughty demeanor scare you. Your tiny words and lack of a clue frightened me. You're our future right?

"Our young and idealistic hero, going to carry women of the XWF to the future because they have held us down for too long! Well..I have taken great care and consideration for you Dove. As the wisened vet, it's my responsibility. Two to three syllable words so pay attention.

Sarah Lacklan. Kenzi Grey. Rubi. Vita and yes I left her last name out intentionally. Your welcome. Miss Fury. Lux..sort of. Roxy Cotton. Michael Graves. Recent addition to our gender but long time XWF member....

....Madison Dyson. The list goes on. All women who've left an indelible mark on this company. All respected, revered, adored for one reason or the other. Most are former title holders. Some feared more than any male here. On behalf of all of us. Please. Stop.

We run this shit and your undermining the eff out of us. Whine on your own time. Do what your here for. Jobbing.]]>

[Image: G5nsTxT.png]
The face of a name you've only heard, never given physical form, alluded to by metaphor. Round and radiant faced Selene, daughter of Helios, that lunar titaness who oft is mentioned in Atara Themis' story. She appears once more and as before, perched on her heavenly throne, she sits as sentinel of the night ever watchful of a favored daughter of Hellas. High above the city of grey eyed Athena, she held with debauched amusement the object of her attention. She played celestial voyeur, peeping into the Mount Latmus that was Atara's home.

Atara, lost to the whims of the oldest of gods, unaware of her holy audience unknowingly brought Selene's memory to vivid life. Pulled from ancient emotions and sprung to the titaness' minds eye the many times she had visited her Endymion. A primal display, Luna's charge moved in seeming rhythm with the ebb and flow of the ocean's tide. A tide Selene could control, a tide this fast becoming concupiscent divinity was finding hard to not manipulate. Desirous as she was, a restraint was shown unfamiliar of the Greek pantheon. Nay, she remained up on high and wouldn't interfere.

Selene would keep watch, keep to herself. She would play her lyre and hum her praise with sapphic hymn. Satisfied, the moon above Athens shone brighter.

[Image: D0ozRwO.png]


[Image: 21wOfwA.png]


"Ay, wicked men never elude pure Themis: night and day her eyes are on them, and the wide world through above the tribes of men she floats in air, holpen of Zeus, for punishment of sin."

[Image: BjMQpHy.png]

Delphi, yet another name from the story of Atara. A place visited, a part of the tale abandoned in the name of conformity. Here is the place of the navel of world and the seat from which Themis indoctrinated mankind with those primal laws governing human conduct. She of Good Counsel whispering through her Pythia. The world knows her best, the blinded lady bearing sword and scales. The Oracle is her home.

The center of the Hellenestic world, in modern times it holds a different significance. That place Atara first rose to some prominence. Where she raised the eyebrows of monsters dark and terrible. For her it wasn't the sensual utterance of another Champion's name but here that she planted her flag. This place is why you fear her. Why you lay awake wondering what Atty you've invoked and summoned for battle. Why you pray she disappears again, hope for disinterest.

This place is the reason the Gilmours and Thunder Knuckles feel the need to elevate themselves when her name is matched opposite theirs. The reason kings of XWF have worshipped and bent to her will. Why our Queens beat the drums of war when her presence is felt. Its Mecca. Her place of ascension.

And she did nought but bathe in hallow water and stand defiant to a harbinger of doom. Pugnacious. Literate. Atara.

Still in Athens, Atara had not been back since Christmas of last year. Defiant as she had been then, omens spoke against her and a gilded tongue had lured her away with promise. Misfortune had shook her faith. A fickle thing, not even Gods could hold her sway. The ruins were lifeless, save one. Atara's namesake, Themis

Sat upon a delphic tripod were her great temple once stood whole, she was motionless. Wilderness and the elements her only companions she sat unaffected by either. Alabaster flesh was wrapped in crimson cloth tightly round her form and the same formed a hood atop her head. Her face hidden in shadow was stoic and from the void eyes of only sclera peered out. The direction of her gaze was indiscernible, not even a subtle rise or fall of her chest. Lifeless, save the subtle twitch and toying of a laurel in one hand.

In the Titaness' mind the threads of fate would unwind retelling stories of past and present. Images of warriors across the eons of time. Sifting through them all she settled on Christmas Christmas discussed before. Found the favoured daughter of Olympus and from the tapestry of time plucked that thread alone.

Pulled tight in her mind, she followed the length of thread from one end. The length of Ataras life until she reached Christmas day once again. All a haze, even for her yet a phrase the goddess.

Fuck Hope.

She moved forward until seeing the tiny and minuscule form of Jenny Myst. Defeated then as champion. No command given, no gesture, a mist would rise from the ground. From crack and crevice, a fog straight from Gaia surrounded her and her eyes became white as Selene's moon. Lips parted so that a ethereal song could escape.

"A time shall come when from your tree the gold shall be despoiled, and of that spoil a daughter of Venus shall boast."

There then gone. Carried on the wind to it's intended target. Her voice was no more and back to thread she went. Further into the future til she was met with that haze. Once more she heard...

"Fuck Hope."

Pushing the thread from her mind the mist dissipated while Themis stood her perch. She stepped forward laurel in hand.

"Themis, loved by all, careful not to shine too bright.
The seas will part and giants once more take flight."

There then gone, Themis tossed her laurel to the ground where it bust to flame. Smoke rose up where she would have been.

[Image: ZBpB3oy.gif]


[Image: 21wOfwA.png]


[Image: Xi5O22S.png]

Promotions where clamouring for her again. Film roles had been pouring in. The Palaestra was doing well. Just cleared by the doctor, and XWF seemed intent on keeping her in title contention. Her birthday had come. Atara had every reason to be in a celebratory mood and celebrate she had. Surrounded by friends and family in her little 12 room Greek estate, the world seemed to be her oyster.

From round the world, from different companies, different professions, they had flocked in. Even for being a mostly private event, little fanfare, her house had been full and was still mostly full as far as she knew. The revelry had come to its end and those who could or needed to had left. Those unable, were sleeping the effects off somewhere. Bacchanalian? Perhaps, but we'll paint the picture and let the viewer infer for themselves.

"Somewhere in my house." A harrowing thought

Harrowing enough for her to leave the warmth of a shower to inspect the fallout. Wrapped in a towel and neglecting the cascade of water soaked locks at her back, Atara started to make way through her home.

The adjacent master bedroom was first of course. Holding the towel in place with one hand, she eased the door open with the other already certain of mostly what waited on the otherside.

Dimly lit, save for the unusually bright glow from outside, aegean blue irises could make out shape and form. The bed, bundled in comforter and sheets she spotted Dimitris Vitalis. Right where he was left, the GCC middleweight and newest addition to Themis Palaestra was soundly asleep.

"Good," Atara thought has she scurried across hard wood to a nearby shelf. A silver frame meticulously placed face down was turned up right. James Raven's smug grin was held within, his signature scribbled across. Atara blushed looking over shoulder then back to her memorabilia. Sometimes she felt watched and the picture was to blame. It matters little though, restored to his rightful place she moved on towards her bedroom door where an oddly shaped lump layed.

Light as a feather Atara moved forward, her mind racing at who it might be. Piecing her own timeline together in her mind Atara knelt down for a closure inspection. She couldn't recall anyone else being in the room. Hadn't heard anyone enter. The party had been a wild affair but not that.....

Wide eyed and horror filled surprise sprung to her face once the silhouettes identity had become clear. Inwardly Atara began immediately begging the gods for mental clarity. To not let what could have happened happen. The heap on her floor, this passed out behemoth snuggled tight with the recent gift of a stuffed Kangaroo. A gift from Noah buried deep in a bosom covered with a BoB t-shirt.......

......Thunder Knuckles.

Pulling her towel tighter, Atara shuddered a little in disgust. As good a friend as he was, the thought was appalling. Worse, the idea of her present being drenched in beer odored drool. She reached for it only to be met with fierce opposition. He jerked violently away, still asleep, only to reward her with mutter.

"It's mine Knickles! I'll fuck you up!"

Brows furrowed in amusement and Atara had to stifle a giggle. She reached again and was denied again.

"No Means No Jimmy!"

[White]"Well, enough of that," she thought. She would honor the roos sacrifice later, and lie to Noah should he ever ask. Still naked, Atara needed to address the issue of dressing while not waking her sleep over guest.

She had stood and started towards her closet when the most peculiar sound came from behind. A subtle coo then a flutter of wings. It seemed inviting the call, irresistible. Atara turned on heels and went to the hall stepping over TK in process. Peeking across the threshold her eyes fell on the pristine white feathers of a Dove.

Perched atop a table it looked at her. Expressionless yet still smiling at her. It coo'd again and flutter further into the house. Not entirely of her own volition, the Grecian followed. It would stop and call then flutter off and Atara kept the hunt until the point she had found herself outside on her patio.

The Acropolis stood vigil and in view over her home. Glowing with stage light accompanied by Selene's silvered gaze. Seemed almost new, alive. There was no sign of her Dove but this temple she had seen a thousand times had stolen her attentions. Atara moved to her balconies edge, folded holding her makeshift vestment in place.

Unnoticeable at first, that cotton garb started to slip and when Atara tried adjusted she was awestruck when it began to dissipate altogether. Particles in the wind she stood glistening before the heavens.

[Image: DLf7uG7.png]

First TK, the bird, now this! She hadn't been that drunk. Had only slightly partaken in other activity. Atara thought she was sober. A chill froze her solid. A voice, heavenly and feminine came from behind.

"I'm flattered girl, but still, nice as you are...you are not me."

Fingers found themselves gently grasping at Ataras shoulder. As if on a turntable Atara was spun coming face to face with that laughter loving beauty.

[Image: UKEKyaa.png]

To Be Cont...


[Image: 21wOfwA.png]

"Hello Doves."
[Image: Vl1riFm.png]

"Here we are at the cusp of conclusion."

"Their fate, already decided, was prognosticated the second the stakes were revealed. The instant my name was scribed on the card."

"An admirable fervor they showcased in the beginning. Firing the first volley, a hot barrage of barreling metal aimed right at my chest. They expected disinterest, expected I would not care."

"They expected I wanted only a bit of the limelight."

"Then I spoke."

"When I speak, they listen. Reined in by just my words, where is that fervor now?"

"Did Hecate not listen? Did the locker room stop paying attention?"

"Where the both of you...dismissed."

"Of course"

"Remember what I told you. You bask in the radiance of my star. You've crept to close and no, this isn't me spouting the lesson of Icarus. There's no fall from heaven for the two of you. Mine is a wrath that burns hotter than Prometheus flame. You will burn and you will burn in haste. Combust on the spot.

"Tombstone, aptly named Doves."

"Not because I am macabre or carry a morbid fascination with death. I am no sadist, the contrary to be exact. Not because I believe I will be allowed to prance prim and proper to the ring and murder you most literal and foul, but because this is where your hope dies."

"Poof, to purgatory and there is Dante to save it."

"Grim and forboding Lycana, Dove, do be careful when you try to play prophet. Pinch out that flame of an idea that you are special. Did Hades come to you dear Persphone? Are you to be carried away to that throne room in hell. To reign at his left side?"

"Yes, the left. Closest the heart, that organ symbolic of all worldly desire. That is my domain woman. My name has escaped that goats lips as well and you would do good to remember...

"Pleasure begets pain. Be rough and violent as you care to be. Just know, my whispers are what have left you quivering at night."

"Halocen, I have rattled my brain and scoured every dictionary and thesaurus I could to make this as simple for you as I could. I'm sorry my big words and haughty demeanor scare you. Your tiny words and lack of a clue frightened me. You're our future right?

"Our young and idealistic hero, going to carry women of the XWF to the future because they have held us down for too long! Well..I have taken great care and consideration for you Dove. As the wisened vet, it's my responsibility. Two to three syllable words so pay attention.

Sarah Lacklan. Kenzi Grey. Rubi. Vita and yes I left her last name out intentionally. Your welcome. Miss Fury. Lux..sort of. Roxy Cotton. Michael Graves. Recent addition to our gender but long time XWF member....

....Madison Dyson. The list goes on. All women who've left an indelible mark on this company. All respected, revered, adored for one reason or the other. Most are former title holders. Some feared more than any male here. On behalf of all of us. Please. Stop.

We run this shit and your undermining the eff out of us. Whine on your own time. Do what your here for. Jobbing.]]> <![CDATA[Dream Warriors]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39016 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 23:06:19 -0800 TD1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39016 Opening my eyes, I notice I’m in a void. Just nothing on top of more nothing. No sounds. No objects. No light. Just me inside my own subconscious. Sitting Indian style on what, beneath my palms, feels like a type of compacted dirt surface. Gritty texture, but no residue. To myself I wonder just how much power I actually have here. It is my subconscious but at the same time, this is all new territory to me. Can I make things happen by thinking them? Do I just say “light” for instance then snap my fingers? Do I have to do the nod like Jeannie? The nose twitch like Samantha?

”Give me light,” I say aloud and at once, the place I’m in lights up before my eyes. It seems like a cavern of some kind. Maybe an old bunker. The floor is dirt like I thought but the walls are old cinder block that looks to have been painted over time and time again.

My doing? I wonder to myself. It’s kind of drafty in here so I begin to think that I came under dressed. I went to sleep in just boxer shorts and that’s all I wear now. With little more than a thought, I’m clothed in jeans and a hoodie.

On my feet now, I venture through the labyrinth of my subconscious. Every now and then, a door appears on either side. Coming to the first door on my right, etched in the wood of the door is the word ‘BIRTH’ and its already slightly ajar.

”Clearly someone’s been snoopin’,” I say aloud to no one. Out of curiosity I approach the door. Hesitantly, I open that door and peek inside. Nothing. Blackness. Thinking about it for a few seconds, I decide to step inside and all at once, the room lights up like the fourth of July.

Asmodeus’s Laboratory beneath his old farmhouse on the grounds of the Illuminatus Compound.

My father is here. My grandfather. My mother is strapped to a table. And Jake Anderson, my dads best friend and his right hand man, too.

”NOW JACOB!” my grandfather shouts and Jake hits my father in the side of the head before handcuffing him to a railing. With a scalpel, my grandfather starts to cut open my pregnant mothers belly. Just as he does, I back out of the room slamming the door shut behind me. My heart races as I catch my breath against the wooden door.

”Where you at Doc?” I cry out, not really expecting him to be like ‘over here in your faded memories from high school.’ ”Let’s play, D’Ville!”

Regaining my bearings a bit, I continue through the labyrinth. One by one I pass different doors. 1 Month. 2 Month. 3 Month. It then skips right over everything else and goes right to Fifteenth Birthday.

”I know where he is,” I say out loud as I begin to jog down the seemingly endless corridor. I glance quickly as I jog passed the doors to specific memories, time period memories, memories of specific people, before finally finding the door I’m looking for. This door is of good quality wood, stained in a dark red. Its hinges and doorknob, bright colored brass. Etched in its surface: “The Fall of the Church”

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door revealing the darkness within. When I step inside the doorway, the main aisle way inside the Basilica lights up, but rather dim. Upon the alter rests the throne of Saint Peter and sitting within that throne and still wearing my Illuminatus crown is the legend himself Doctor Louis D’Ville. Casually I walk the aisle way, D’Ville beaming his famous grin in my direction.

”You’re in the right church, but the wrong pew,” I say to him as I climb the steps toward the throne. ”The chair you sit, the crown upon your head, the building you’re in, the city it rests in… still belong to me,” I inform him.

”Indeed, young Duke.”

”Thaddeus,” I remind him. ”I hold the power here.”

”Perhaps you do young...” Doc smiles a little. ”Where are my manners? Excuse me, Thaddeus,” he says with mocking smirk as he throws his leg off the arm of the chair and stands up.

As I finish climbing the steps, a slight breeze blows into the darkened Basilica and my jeans and hoodie are gone and in their place, the gold and crimson colored floral patterned royal regalia I once wore when I was younger.

Not my doing, he’s clearly not entirely powerless here.

Taking my rightful seat upon the throne, with my left foot planted firmly on the floor, I toss my right leg over the arm of the ancient chair… just like I always did.

”You belong down there,” I inform D’Ville, pointing toward the floor at the bottom of the steps. Doc looks at me, then down at the bottom.

”Of course,” he says as he ventures downward, my crown resting within his hands.

”I’ll have that, if you don’t mind Doc,” I say to him and with a ‘come hither’ wiggle of my fingers, the crown soars from his hands to mine. Like I always did, I spin it a few times like a basketball on the tip of my middle finger, before flipping it upon my own head, cocked slightly askew and with a forward lean.

”Why are you here?” I ask of him. He says nothing, just returns a smile and clasps his fingers behind his back.

”Just browsing,” he finally answers.

”See anything you like?”

”A great deal, actually,” Doc answers quickly.

”Like what?”

Again, just the D’Ville grin, no words.

”The headaches I’ve been suffering,” I preface a question. ”Your doing? Opening doors I wanted to remain shut?”

Headaches? Hmm. Well, apparently had you not locked them up so tightly, you wouldn’t have ever known I was here! I DID have to kick a few open..."

”Why? Why this sudden interest in someone so much younger than you? Why all the interest in someone you have nothing in common with?”

He says nothing initially.

”Might I approach… Your Highness?” he asks mockingly.

I wave my hand, giving him the ‘okay.’ Of course, this is my brain so I’m not going to make it easy on him. As he climbs, I keep adding steps with my mind. He starts taking two steps at a time, so I start adding three at a time. He stops suddenly.

”Clever,” he says with a less enthused grin.

”My house, my rules,” I reply with a smile as he resumes climbing the steps. I stop adding them, and allow him to reach the foot of throne.

”I think we have more in common then you care to let on.”

”Once maybe, Doc. Not anymore.”

Doc leans in close to me, giving me a deep sniff causing me to shift uncomfortably in the throne.

”Mmmm… Something in common, indeed.”

I hold my hands out to either side of the throne and quietly, my two lions venture in from the darkness behind me, resting their heads in my hands giving D’Ville a light warning growl. D’Ville backs up a step.

”For me?” he asks.

I say nothing.

”How thoughtful, young Duke...”

”Thaddeus,” I remind him again.

”It does get cold this time of year, I could use some new coats.”



Bursting from the ancient chair, I give D’Ville a hard shove and he leaves his feet. D’Ville misses the first few steps and lands hard on the next, tumbling down the last few to the floor below. Beginning the walk down the steps toward D’Ville, snow starts to fall in the darkened Basilica. My royal wear is now replaced by my battle gear. Gray and white camouflage, my sidearm holstered at my thigh. The name DUKE over the right side of my chest, a golden crown embroidered above the name. The blue and white Illuminatus flag patch on both shoulders.

When I reach the bottom, I place my boot under the shoulder of D’Ville who is on his hands and knees, and roll him over.

”No gear for me?” he asks as he eyeballs me.

”Like I said, my house, my rules.”

Doc only smiles. As he does so, I pounce on him, pinning his shoulders to the floor below him, and start throwing my closed fist towards his old man face. Over and over, my fist contacts his face until he’s bleeding from his nose and his left eye.

Not once does he try and fight back.

”Fight me, Lou!” I shout as I grip my hand around his throat and squeeze, increasing pressure gradually. Again, he never loses that fucking grin.

”Killllll meeeee,” he replies through strangled breath.

Out of restraint, I release my grip on his throat and step off of him. ”Mother fuck!” I shout out in frustration of the precarious situation I find myself in. I want so badly to stomp his skull into nothing but a mix of broken skull plate, blood and brain matter.

”Is that it?” Doc asks as he makes his way to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. ”Give me more.”

”I don’t want you dead, Lou!” I shout out in response and he again just grins.

”Yes you do, boy!”

”No! I just want you the fuck out of my head and stay the hell out of my memories!” I reply as I lean down to pet the lions who are none too thrilled with what they’re seeing. Agitated would be an understatement.

”Then you’ll have to kill me,” he says as he starts to climb the steps behind me.

Suddenly, I’m ripped into the air by unseen forces and sent colliding into a stone pillar in the Basilica, the back of my head cracking off the floor and I’m immediately immobilized by tinnitus, a recurring symptom of a past concussion. Trying to see Doc through my blurred vision but still unable to move, I can make out one of my lions pouncing on D’Ville. As my vision clears, I can see its Simba and he has his mouth locked up tight on D’Ville’s arm. Before I can do anything, Doc twitches his head to his right and Simba falls limp to the floor after a slight whimper.

Doc examines the wounds to his arm and I jump to my feet and rush over to my fallen lion. Mufasa rears up, staring at Doc like he wants to pounce.

”Control that beast, young Duke, or go home with neither,” he warns me.

I glance at Doc, then over at Mufasa.

”Heel, Mufasa!” I command, but he isn’t listening and lets out a deafening roar. ”Shit,” I mutter under my breath. With the power of thought, a large cage now surrounds my remaining lion. For a moment, kneeling beside Simba, I cradle his head as he draws his last breath.

Locked in the cage, Mufasa lets out another deafening roar as he throws the weight of his body against the walls of the cage, trying to break it apart. Wiping the curled hair out of my eyes, I stand up and draw my pistol.

”Now we’re getting somewhere,” D’Ville says as he backpedals slowly.

I walk toward him, gun drawn and pointed, then fire. Pull the hammer, fire. Pull again, fire. With each successive shot, Doc is rocked, but doesn’t fall. I fire the weapon, hitting him several times, emptying the magazine. After changing the magazine I pull the hammer back again and look at Doc. His grin hasn’t disappeared and blood gushes from each of his wounds.

Behind me, I hear the cage collapse and Mufasa is free. He charges toward Doc and I can see D’Ville dart his eyes in his direction so I fire, just inches away from his forehead. The eyes roll back in D’Ville’s head and Mufasa pounces, locking his jaw on D’Ville’s throat as Doc falls backward. D’Ville hits the floor, but vanishes into nothing but an ashy smoke in the shape of his body.

Mufasa whimpers then stands on his hind legs, placing his front paws on my shoulder just as I holster my weapon. ”You’re a good boy, Mufasa,” I say to him with tears in my eyes as I hug him around his neck for a moment. He leave me and lands on his feet. The lion stands beside me for a moment, looking at his dead brother, then up at me, then again at his brother. Mufasa saunters over to where Simba lies and gives his brother a sniff. He nudges him gently with his snout then whimpers and collapses on the floor, resting his head upon his brothers lifeless body.

”WAKE HIM UP!” I shout out, as if those in my bedroom watching me sleep could actually hear me. For a moment, I sit beside my boys, angry with myself for bringing them into this. For a moment, I grieve uncontrollably, burying my head in Simba’s mane. A few seconds later, both lions vanish much in the way Doc did only moments ago.

With Louis D’Ville and both lions now gone from my subconscious dream world, I sit alone with my grief inside the snowy Basilica. In the distance, behind the throne, I can hear a creaking sound.

”Hello?” I call out like a fucking dumbass. No one else is here but you, dipshit.

Climbing to my feet, I wipe the snow from my ass as I climb the steps to the altar and walk past the throne. Lit up behind it are three doors and I’ve now reached the conclusion that D’Ville isn’t gone, he’s just moved somewhere else.

Etched into the first door: Plenty of Death. Etched into the second: Some Death. Etched into the third: Your Death.

”God dammit,” I mutter to myself as I reach up and turn the nob on the third door. Your death.


Once through the door, I enter into darkness. I turn back toward the door, but of course, it’s gone. A result of which makes me question just how much power here that Doctor D’Ville truly has. Does he have it all? Just enough to create doubt in my mind? Is he playing me now? Or am I still playing him?

Stepping forward into the abyss of blackness, the… memory… lights up before me and I stop in my tracks, taking it all in and surveying my surroundings. I stand alone in a meadow about a few hundred yards from a dense forest. It’s a warm sunny day with birds chirping and several deer pick at berries in the bushes near the tree line. My battle gear from earlier is replaced with ornate armor, lion heads on the shoulder plates, and find a sword sheathed at my side. Removing the sword to take a gander, in the blunt side of the blade, etched and gilded: LeoCor. Latin for Lionheart.

Beneath my feet, I feel a couple of thumps, as if something heavy were impacting the ground. Turning my head to take a peek with my sword still drawn, I notice a heavily armored pure black horse coming toward me slowly. It’s tall and muscular, certainly not bred for speed, but to take a licking. Sheathing my sword, the big brute comes closer and whinnies. On the thick leather armor running down the length of his head toward his nose, the letters TD are burned into the leather. MY initials.

As the horse draws near, I gently rub the unprotected side of his head. For a moment, I half expected this horse to start talking to me, causing me to laugh at myself for a quick second. Taking a second to place my right foot into the stirrup and climb upon the big brute, I notice the bedroll attached behind the all black saddle. PHOBOS, it reads in gold lettering. In Greek mythology, Phobos was the horse belonging to Ares, the God of War. Back in the real world, the Ares Project named themselves that because they believe I’m a terrorist warmonger.

”You rang?” asks the voice of my father as I sit down in the saddle, startling me. He too is sitting on an armored horse. He too, wears armor.

”What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, still perplexed.

”A guide, I suppose,” he answers.

”I’m so confused,” I admit to him.

”This is where you landed when you fell through Azrael’s time rift as an infant,” he begins to explain.

One of my most painful of memories. It’s sounds entirely crazy and bizarre. Azrael Erebus once helped my father see things through a different light, as in, what life might have been like had my mother not died. A result of that caused a rift in space time and yours truly fell through the wormhole as a baby.

When I landed here the year was 2514 and I was 15 years old and so very confused. It was kind of a ‘days of future past’ bizarro world. The world economy collapsed and nations fell. The United States became known as the American Empire, ruled by an Emperor. What used to be states in America became counties of the Empire, governed by kings and queens. Guns became scarce and non-existent. Slowly, what was old, became new again and what you see today in the modern day real world, reverted to medieval times in this one.

While I was here, I was taken in by a small village, often terrorized by the king and his men seeking money. In that village I met a girl named Lily. As time went by, Lily became the first girl I… loved, for lack of better terminology. At some point, as my father kept coming and going- why he didn’t just take me home, I’ll never know- the kings men sacked our little village for failure to pay taxes and took Lily who was also the daughter of the village leader for ransom.

A short time later, he sent her severed head back to us.

Entirely enraged, me and some of the villagers rode off to the kings castle in revolt. His men were simple idiots and were rather easy to cut down. Inside the castle, I confronted the king and had him dead to rights. Little did I know, he had one of the only guns in existence and shot me in the heart when I was about to kill him.

There’s a big part of me that wishes I’d have stayed dead. Maybe it’s shitty to say, but it’s the truth. It’s not that my life is hard, it isn’t. At least not in the way it is for average people. I’m not average and I never have been.

As my father and I quietly weave our way through the forest on horseback, two riders approach us on the rear.

”Who the hell are they?” I ask of my dad.

”Your body guards I guess,” he answers.

The one on my left removes his helm. To my surprise and delight, that role is filled by Corey fuckin’ Smith.

”How the hell is a hot twink supposed to protect me?” I ask facetiously.

”Dude, why’d you bring me into this?”

”I don’t know bro,” I answer him as we ride further into the forest. ”Probably all those texts you sent me warning me against D’Ville.”

”I was right,” Corey says as he looks around at the four of us. ”So like… is this the Four Horsemen of the A-Doc-alypse?” he asks, causing me to laugh.

As we near the edge of the forest that empties out into a small village, the other rider, still beneath his helm, mumbles something entirely inaudible and steers his horse right into a tree. The man falls off his horse and his armor clanks together as he hits the ground and his helm falls off his head.

”Jimmy fucking Caedus!?” I shout out a bit incredulously. ”What did you say?”

”I said I can’t see a fucking thing, Thadly!” he says as he collects himself and his helm, replacing it on his head.

”You have it on backwards, dumbass,” I say causing Corey to laugh and my dad to roll his eyes.

”These are they guys your subconscious called on to help you?”

I look at both of my homies from another life, then shrug and look back at my dad. ”Who you got?”

”Maybe you really are a lost cause,” he says as Caedus fixes his helm so he can see and climbs back on his horse.

”You look pretty hot in that armor, not gonna lie,” I say to Corey, causing him to blush just a little.

”Really?” he asks as he gives himself a once over, to which I nod as the four of us exit the forest. ”Maybe we’ll have ourselves a medieval romp in the hay before we go,” he jokes with one raised eyebrow.

”Christ,” says my father with a roll of his eyes.

”Sit STILL, stupid fucking horse!” Jim shouts as his horse keeps getting nervous and threatening to throw him from his saddle.

Reaching the clearing, it isn’t a small village like I said, but a row of shops outside the walls of the castle. My father looks at me, and I at him.

”You changed it,” he surmises.

I nod.

”Changed what?” Corey asks, but I ignore him for the moment.

”This is the end of the line, then.”

”It is.”

My father and his horse disappear into the ashy smoke, much the same was as Doc earlier and my lions.

”I guess its just the three of us then, huh Thadly?” Jim asks.

”Sorry Jim, your services won’t be needed,” I inform him.

Like my father, Jim Caedus also disappears into ashy smoke.

”What did you change?” Corey asks as I urge my horse forward into the town. Like six years ago, men on horseback are charging into the town, cutting down the kings men like a hot knife through butter. I only turn to look at Corey with a smirk, again electing not to answer his question.

”Thad! Why are you keeping me but let Caedus and your dad go?”

”Because I love you,” I say, turning toward him as we reach the courtyard. Behind us, men are battling with swords and one is shoved into the hind end of Corey’s horse. In response, the horse bucks and kicks the kings guard that bumped him, nearly throwing Corey off.

”Jesus fuck! I almost went over right there!” he shouts as he rights himself on the horse. ”Wait, you don’t love your dad?”

”Different kind of love,” I answer back.

We turn the corner and the courtyard to the castle is just a few hundred feet ahead. Men still battle and die around us, none of them paying any attention to us whatsoever.

”Why is it a different kind of love?” Corey inquires.

”I didn’t choose my father,” I begin to explain. ”But me and you? We chose each other.”

”Hey are you getting younger?” he asks and I only look at him with a smile. ”Wait, you are getting younger! When I first hooked up with you back there, you had some growth on your face… its gone.”

”Nice observation,” I say with a chuckle. ”If I get much younger, Chris Page might wanna buy my services on a street corner.”

”Ha! GOT ‘EM!” Corey says as he squints, trying hard to see the golden haired kid running around the corner, guards hot on his tail. ”Holy shit is that you?”

”Yep.”

”You’re a lot cuter now,” he says with a smile, causing me to chuckle.

We reach the memory version of myself, as two guards tackle him into the dirt. Him? Me? You know what I mean. After hopping off the horse, I draw my sword, Corey does the same. I grab the closest guy to me and he spins to elbow me, but I duck out of the way. Corey drives his sword right up between his armor. The other goes to hit the memory version of me in the face but I catch his arm, he looks up at me and I drive my sword right down into his neck.

”Holy shit, that was intense!”

”These guys are like… level one NPC’s bro, they weren’t anything,” I reply to him as I turn my attention to the young, golden haired, blue eyed version of me. He stares up at me knowingly but understandably confused.

”How come your hair and eyes are dark now compared to 15?” Corey asks, but I don’t answer him. Instead, I reach my hand out to the teenage me. He accepts and I help him to his feet.

”Thank you,” young Thad says to me.

”Don’t mention it.”

He turns to make his way to the front door of the castle, but with my steel clad fist, I grab him by his shoulder.

”You know what happens when you go in there?” I ask him.

”I’m gonna kill the king,” he says as he tries to turn away again, my grip not letting him go.

”You go in there, you die,” I inform young me. ”You knock him on his fat ass, you go to drive your sword into his chest, but he has a gun and shoots you in the heart.”

He stares at me perplexed. ”But there aren’t any guns,” he argues.

”I know, but he has one.”

”Let me go,” he insists.

”I can’t do that, I’m sorry.”

”He beheaded my Lily,” he says with a tear in his eye. ”He thought it’d be fun to send her head back to us in a box.”

”I know, Thaddeus,” I say to him as I begin to feel his pent up emotion.

”I have to avenge her,” he says as he once again tries to turn away. This time, I belt him in the temple with me steel fist, knocking him unconscious.

”That was… surreal.” That’s putting it mildly.

Leaving the horses outside, Corey follows me through the large double doors leading into the throne room of the ancient castle. Inside, the king paces behind the throne, paying us no attention whatsoever.

”How come you never told me about this one?” Corey whispers to me as we walk up the aisle toward the king.

”You’re here aren’t you?”

”Yeah but...”

”When you wake up, text me and let me know whether you remember this or not.”

”Stop!” shouts the king as he realizes we’re there. ”Guards!” he cries out.

”They’re busy being slaughtered,” I inform him. ”Your Majesty,” I lean toward him, mockingly.

”You there,” he says, pointing to me. He squints hard, like he might recognize me. ”Do I know you lad?”

”Thaddeus Duke, Your Majesty… though I’m not quite what you remember.”

”Yes!” he says with a clap of his hands. ”The foolish lad that insulted his king! Tell me, did you enjoy the gift I sent you?”

I say nothing. The gift he’s referring to, was Lily’s head. As I stand here watching him, seeing him live and breathe again after all these years, pent up rage and hurt and… I don’t know the word for it… boils toward the surface, urging to be let out.

”That lad with you, what’s his name?”

”Sir Corey the Broken,” I answer him.

”Hey!” Corey yells out, objecting to the moniker.

”Corey, pillar.”

”What?” he asks. In response, I eyeball the pillar to his left and nod. It takes a moment, but it finally registers and he retreats to cover.

”Just us then?”

I draw my sword and look at its blade.

”Is it death you’re looking for, boy!?” asks the king as he rises from his throne, his pistol in hand and pointed in my direction.

I toss my sword up at his feet.

”It certainly is,” I answer his question. ”Yours this time, not mine.”

It occurs to me in the moment, the word that was escaping me a bit ago.

Madness.



I dart behind a pillar as he fires the gun. The bullet impacts the pillar I stand behind, dust and stone chips rain down upon my head. Remembering the gun was faulty and always jammed after a shot, I step from behind the pillar.

”There you are, coward!”

He pulls the trigger as I climb the steps toward him. Just as I remembered, it jams.

”Damn!”

I reach him just as he clears the jam and it misfires badly, discharging the bullet toward the ceiling. Grabbing his hand gripping the pistol, I squeeze, causing his hand muscles to loosen their grip on the gun and it falls harmlessly to dangle from his finger.

”Perhaps we can work this out lad?” he questions. ”Sometimes, peaceful resolutions can be had if respectful discussions take place.”

Squeezing his wrist just a little harder, he drops the gun to the floor below and it chatters down the steps.

”I’ve thought about this from time to time you know?”

”About peaceful discussion?”

I shake my head no.

”About what it might be like, how I might do it… you know… killing you,” I say with a cold stare.

Corey pokes his head out from around the pillar. Realizing there’s no need for cover any longer, he steps out and watches the scene unfold.

”Thaddeus, right?” he asks, trying to remember my name. ”I think maybe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s take a step back and see if we can’t restart our relationship.”

I squeeze his wrist harder and harder, before headbutting him in the bridge of his nose and he falls to his knees, blood now gushing from his busted nasal cavity.

”I’ve thought of this moment for six years, and I won’t be robbed of seeing it through. Not from you.”

”You broke my nose!” he shouts as he tries to stop the blood with his free hand.

”Don’t worry, Your Majesty, it won’t hurt much longer,” I inform him as I grip him by his throat and land on him with all of my weight. The crown from his head hits the floor and rolls several feet away. Squeezing harder and harder, he struggles to breathe. He claws at my hands, claws at my face, but I’m much taller than he and my wingspan is larger. He can only reach my shoulders.

Not really wanting him to die just yet, I release my grip and lean off of him. Gasping for breath and clutching his throat, he struggles in vain to crawl away from me. Like a hungry lion stalking his prey, I follow him closely. He leans to his left to see where I am, but accidentally rolls down the steps, conveniently right next to his gun. Watching this unfold, just as the king gets his hand on the gun, Corey steps on his hand, then reaches down and removes it from the kings grasp before tossing it to me.

The King struggles to his feet as I grab my sword. It drags behind me as I descend the steps with a clang and a clang and a clang. I reach the lower surface as the king gets to his feet. He turns to face me with me pointing the gun at his chest. Six years ago, it was me staring down this same barrel.

Without warning, I pull the trigger, shooting him in the heart. He looks stunned as if he didn’t think I’d really do it. Blood pumps from the wound in his chest. Still standing, he tries in vain to stop the bleeding.

”You… shot… me,” he says as he watches his own blood pump out through his shaking fingers.

”And now I’m gonna kill you,” I say as I drive my sword through the front of his throat out the back of his neck. He starts to shake uncontrollably as shock begins to set in. Before removing the long blade from his neck, I give it a twist. After removal, I allow the king to fall to his knees, but grab him by his hair, intent on watching the life leave his eyes. Several seconds later, the blood pumping out of his wounds slows to a trickle and his eyes glaze over before his chest stops heaving. I let go of his hair and he falls dead on the stone floor.


CLAP!









CLAP!









CLAP!


”Thad,” Corey calls out to me before motioning toward the throne. I turn to see…




CLAP!


Doctor D’Ville.

”Well done young Duke,” he says from his place standing behind the throne. ”If you two were the same person,” D’Ville begins as he eyeballs Corey and I. ”Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a difficult task.”

D’Ville steps out from behind the throne. ”I don’t mind joint sessions, but I’m charging you separately,” he concludes.

”This isn’t what it looks like, Doc,” I inform him.

”No? Then what is it?”

”I warned you not to trust him, Thad! I tried to tell you...”

"And is that based from experience, Mr. Smith? Last I recall, you got exactly what you asked of me. You just didn't realize what you were asking."

Corey opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

”Please, young Duke. Have a seat,” D’Ville says to me, motioning toward the throne. ”We’re in session.”

Deciding to humor the old man, I advance up the steps and sit the throne. Once again, my armor is replaced by the crimson and gold colored royal wear. His doing, I assume to myself.

”How does it feel?” he asks. ”Sitting the throne again.”

”I feel nothing,” I reply.

Doc paces slowly behind the throne and stops, before placing his hand on my shoulder.

”The Lyin’ King,” he muses aloud.

In response, I shake my head. ”I’m not lying, Doc. I feel nothing.”

”You don’t feel invincible?” Doc asks in my right ear before quickly switching to my left. ”You don’t feel the power that comes from sitting in that chair?”

”I… it’s different. It isn’t real.”

”You murdered the king, beautifully brutally might I add, that would make you the king now would it not? You killed the king, you sit in his throne and… put this on,” he stops as he hands me the crown.

”Doc, this is just...”

”Do it.”

Humoring him again, I place the dead kings crown upon my head.

”Power… is something you take boy!”

His statement jars a memory loose and right in front of us as if we were watching a film, is an old memory between me and my grandfather.

”Now is not the time!” Asmodeus yells out at me.

”You made me the Defense Minister, Grandfather, you gave me that power now let me use it!”

”Gave you? If I gave you power, then you have nothing. Power… is something you take boy!”

The scene fades quickly and I look at Doc, grinning of course.

”In reality Doc, he killed me, it’s not even real.”

”Oh?” he points down at the floor to the dead king. ”Yet there he lies.”

”Yeah but Doc...”

”Tell me, young Duke, how did it feel to have the power to alter history? How did it feel when he avoided that first shot and knew his gun was going to jam? How did it feel, when you squeezed his wretched little wrist?”

I hesitate to answer.

”I don’t know how it felt.”

Doc gives me a deep sniff.

”Yes you do.

“How did it feel to squeeze all but the last of his life from him? How did it feel to shoot him in the heart like he shot you six years ago? How did it feel to drive that beautiful sword through the front, and out the back?

“How did it feel, Thaddeus...”

His uncharacteristic referral to me by my first name causes me to look up at him for a moment before returning my attention to the dead king.

”...to at long last, watch him take his last breath?”

I sit silently for a moment in thought.

”I waited to do that for six long years, Doc.”

”Indeed.”

”There were times… not so much lately… where I’d lie awake at night. I could see Lily’s face. I could see it all clear as daylight. I could see the king laughing as he gave us her head. And later in this very room… I could see in slow motion that bullet hitting me in the heart.”

”And when you thought of those terrible memories, young Duke, what did you think about?”

”How I could avenge Lily… and myself.”

”You were born to live again and what did you do with that new lease on life?”

”Rained hellfire all over Europe.”

”Why?”

”Because I could.”

Doc smiles.

”It made you feel whole again. It filled the void left in you when that wretched idiot took your beloved Lily away from you.”

”Maybe.”

”You came here chasing after me is what you think… but the fact is, I followed you. The door you chose was your own creation.”

I say nothing, electing to simply look at the good doctor.

”When you got here and decided to chase your wildest desires for revenge, how did it feel to see it through? How did it feel to finally exact your revenge?”

”Satisfying.”

”Of course it did. There’s a darkness in you young Duke, tell me there isn’t.”

Again, I say nothing.

”Am I wasting my time trying to find it? Am I wasting my time trying to set you free?”

I hesitate to answer.

He stares into my eyes with his typical grin.

”I don’t know,” I answer him honestly.

”Now we’re making progress,” he says as he places his hand on my shoulder. ”Now we can begin.”


It’s funny to me, honestly. I sit here watching these Robert Main promos, and I know its him. I mean, it looks like him. Yet why is that when I see his mouth move, all I hear is Chris Page’s voice? They got some real Weekend at Bernie’s shit goin’ on down there at the ranch.

I spit truth.

I always have.

These two overachieving jokes want to sit on the pedestal they created for themselves with the tons of ego they’ve wrapped themselves in and not only spit out the same useless drivel while grasping at straws and repeating the same old shit they’ve been spitting since the first Chris Page promo. Yeah, you might want to act like you guys plan every god damn thing and can predict every god damn thing but here’s the fact: all I do is tell the people the truth about you. It’s not spin. It’s truth and the truth is predictable because it’s already known. So, let’s not act like y’all have superior brain power when you just said my dad was dead when he lost a buried alive match.

You buried him alive.

You didn’t bury him dead.

“Robert” my boy, and yeah I’m using the finger air quotes because the signs are written all over this shit that something just ain’t right in Cataclysmland. “Robert”, no one rips off Chris Page. Only a fool would rip off Chris Page. Nobody will ever try to take an idea from Chris Page. Hinting around that my first promo was a rip off of Chris Page because he started seeing a shrink five weeks ago is all the proof of your inferior brain power that anyone needs. Listen close because I’mma learn you something big guy, in my first match back when I was under a mask and calling myself The Collector, I released some promos against Gage Gannon, you know, like we do every time we have a match and “Robert” wouldn’t you know it, I happened to be seeing my shrink wayyy back then, so you tell me… who’s copying who? What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Or maybe I planned it all and I saw into the future and saw Page seeing a shrink and was like ‘hmmm, now that there is good drama, I’mma copy it and use it before him so “Robert” “Main” can come out here several months later and call me out for copying something I did before Page…

See, now its all messy.

The reality is really quite simple. You both should see a shrink and seek some guidance and maybe find a fourth personality that is even the least bit interesting.

Main and Page? Nobody cares.

The Omega and the Beast? Nobody cares.

The Monster and the Monstrosity? Nobody cares.

Why? Because between the two of you and all six of your collective personalities, you have the intelligence of a fucking lava lamp, the attention spans of a single gnat and the personalities of a fucking log. No one cares about Cataclysm, because there’s nothing to care about.

You guys talk up this big run you guys are on like its gonna fuckin’ matter after tomorrow night. It won’t. Your reign of mehh comes to an end tomorrow night at High Stakes. You talk about steamrolling the Sick Cunts as if one half of that team didn’t, you know, just kinda mail it in a little (okay, a lot) to save himself for his cash in later in the night.

“Robert” talks a big game like he’s the best fucking thing to hit the squared circle, but its a lot easier to be the big dog when you only wrestle once a month and your run is protected by facing guys like Zane and Chaos all the god damn time.

Yep.

True main eventer right there.

Wrestle once a month, do nothing really that anyone cares about, and feel untouchable. Main, you’re touchable. Like everyone else, you’re beatable. You’re not facing Shane and Tristan Slater, which for the record, is a rather predictable outcome, you’re facing one of the greatest legends this sport has ever seen, and a fucking generational talent, an absolute fucking phenom.

You don’t have to like it, but once again, just because you don’t want it to be true, doesn’t make it any less of a fact. Facts don’t care about your feelings boys.

These assholes think they’re setting some kind of trend by holding hands and being all “you’re really good man” while the other is all like “no you’re really good man” and sit there verbally sucking each others dicks while Sons of Anarchy plays in the background or some shit, but I got news… every tag team champion that has come down the line has done the exact shame shit, only most of them were far more interesting and entertaining.

Doc and I? Yeah we operate a little different. It’s unorthodox, but it works. If it wasn’t working, you wouldn’t have waited until the last day to drop the rest of your useless played out shit that again, no one cares about but you.

This run you’ve had guys, I fear its given you a false sense of confidence. You laugh, you mock, you sit there in your echo chamber and repeat each other… that’s cute by the way. Transparent, but cute. Yet all the while, there’s this annoying little thorn in your side kid that just won’t stop. Just won’t shut up. Just won’t fall to the level that you want him to in order for you to make him easy pickin’s. Nah man, that just ain’t my thing.

You guys like to tell anyone that listens that no matter what happens to you guys, whether its good or bad, that it was all part of your master plan, but then you brag about the fact you buried my dad so let me ask you a question I know I’ll never hear the answer to: I came to Savage that night, don’t you think that if he or I wanted his career to continue that I’d have gotten there earlier? Do you think you would have buried him if I didn’t allow it to happen? I mean, lets face facts shall we? Anytime I have had even a little bit of help from someone against the two of you, whether it was my dad or Doc or anyone else… what did you two do?

Ran like scalded dogs.

Why?

Because one on one, you guys can’t tame me, can’t put me down. Two on one, you guys almost succeeded, but ya know what, you know I’mma still fight you because I don’t even give a fuck… two on two… you want no fucking part of because this “midcard” as you say, Thaddeus with an even side is just too big a mountain for your little motor bikes to climb.

Oh my god, all the facts!

Length wins championships.

Or wait, no. I think its… quality… you know, quality ring work.

I’ll let you think you guys dictated this whole thing to Doc and I, I really don’t care. Fact is while you were busy cramming some nonsense about running guns down our throat like Fat Peter Gilmour downs chicken parm, I was busy dropping actual quality content. So whatever moral victory you thought you were getting by dictating “length,” I gave it right back to you and so did Doc in the form of quality you could never hope to match.

The thing you don’t seem to understand is there is no vanity with Doc. He gets his fun by getting into peoples heads and I know I don’t have to like D’Ville. I don’t have to trust D’Ville. I don’t even have to agree with D’Ville. Fact is, he chose me, I didn’t choose him. I’m not the one that needs to worry about Louis D’Ville’s presence in this match.

You do. It’s you that drawn his ire, not me. He doesn’t need to appear in my hit pieces, nor I in his, to echo me and laugh with me at you two overgrown idiots like the two of you obviously do. Unlike the two of you, we can think for ourselves. Unlike you two, we have the confidence in ourselves and each other that the other guy is gonna do his part. That’s the kind of synchronization that can’t be taught, and it can’t be bought.

If that’s not at least some kind of trust on a professional level, then I don’t know what is.

The thing about great tag teams is, even the best have their wheels fall off. Even the best meet a team they just can’t beat. Even the best finally succumb to a team that’s just too good, too powerful to overcome and they reach the end of the road.

At High Stakes, Cataclysm’s tombstone gets etched. At High Stakes, Cataclysm’s reign of mehh comes to its final bell. At High Stakes, those Tag Team titles are changing hands and we won’t be giving them to anyone else, anytime soon. And boys, that’s just another fact that you’re just gonna have to live with. Thaddeus Duke and Louis D’Ville are walking into Tombstone, Arizona with guns drawn and we’re walking out having ended Cataclysm for good. You've had a mehh run, guys. And now its over.

Why?

Because we choose it.]]> Opening my eyes, I notice I’m in a void. Just nothing on top of more nothing. No sounds. No objects. No light. Just me inside my own subconscious. Sitting Indian style on what, beneath my palms, feels like a type of compacted dirt surface. Gritty texture, but no residue. To myself I wonder just how much power I actually have here. It is my subconscious but at the same time, this is all new territory to me. Can I make things happen by thinking them? Do I just say “light” for instance then snap my fingers? Do I have to do the nod like Jeannie? The nose twitch like Samantha?

”Give me light,” I say aloud and at once, the place I’m in lights up before my eyes. It seems like a cavern of some kind. Maybe an old bunker. The floor is dirt like I thought but the walls are old cinder block that looks to have been painted over time and time again.

My doing? I wonder to myself. It’s kind of drafty in here so I begin to think that I came under dressed. I went to sleep in just boxer shorts and that’s all I wear now. With little more than a thought, I’m clothed in jeans and a hoodie.

On my feet now, I venture through the labyrinth of my subconscious. Every now and then, a door appears on either side. Coming to the first door on my right, etched in the wood of the door is the word ‘BIRTH’ and its already slightly ajar.

”Clearly someone’s been snoopin’,” I say aloud to no one. Out of curiosity I approach the door. Hesitantly, I open that door and peek inside. Nothing. Blackness. Thinking about it for a few seconds, I decide to step inside and all at once, the room lights up like the fourth of July.

Asmodeus’s Laboratory beneath his old farmhouse on the grounds of the Illuminatus Compound.

My father is here. My grandfather. My mother is strapped to a table. And Jake Anderson, my dads best friend and his right hand man, too.

”NOW JACOB!” my grandfather shouts and Jake hits my father in the side of the head before handcuffing him to a railing. With a scalpel, my grandfather starts to cut open my pregnant mothers belly. Just as he does, I back out of the room slamming the door shut behind me. My heart races as I catch my breath against the wooden door.

”Where you at Doc?” I cry out, not really expecting him to be like ‘over here in your faded memories from high school.’ ”Let’s play, D’Ville!”

Regaining my bearings a bit, I continue through the labyrinth. One by one I pass different doors. 1 Month. 2 Month. 3 Month. It then skips right over everything else and goes right to Fifteenth Birthday.

”I know where he is,” I say out loud as I begin to jog down the seemingly endless corridor. I glance quickly as I jog passed the doors to specific memories, time period memories, memories of specific people, before finally finding the door I’m looking for. This door is of good quality wood, stained in a dark red. Its hinges and doorknob, bright colored brass. Etched in its surface: “The Fall of the Church”

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door revealing the darkness within. When I step inside the doorway, the main aisle way inside the Basilica lights up, but rather dim. Upon the alter rests the throne of Saint Peter and sitting within that throne and still wearing my Illuminatus crown is the legend himself Doctor Louis D’Ville. Casually I walk the aisle way, D’Ville beaming his famous grin in my direction.

”You’re in the right church, but the wrong pew,” I say to him as I climb the steps toward the throne. ”The chair you sit, the crown upon your head, the building you’re in, the city it rests in… still belong to me,” I inform him.

”Indeed, young Duke.”

”Thaddeus,” I remind him. ”I hold the power here.”

”Perhaps you do young...” Doc smiles a little. ”Where are my manners? Excuse me, Thaddeus,” he says with mocking smirk as he throws his leg off the arm of the chair and stands up.

As I finish climbing the steps, a slight breeze blows into the darkened Basilica and my jeans and hoodie are gone and in their place, the gold and crimson colored floral patterned royal regalia I once wore when I was younger.

Not my doing, he’s clearly not entirely powerless here.

Taking my rightful seat upon the throne, with my left foot planted firmly on the floor, I toss my right leg over the arm of the ancient chair… just like I always did.

”You belong down there,” I inform D’Ville, pointing toward the floor at the bottom of the steps. Doc looks at me, then down at the bottom.

”Of course,” he says as he ventures downward, my crown resting within his hands.

”I’ll have that, if you don’t mind Doc,” I say to him and with a ‘come hither’ wiggle of my fingers, the crown soars from his hands to mine. Like I always did, I spin it a few times like a basketball on the tip of my middle finger, before flipping it upon my own head, cocked slightly askew and with a forward lean.

”Why are you here?” I ask of him. He says nothing, just returns a smile and clasps his fingers behind his back.

”Just browsing,” he finally answers.

”See anything you like?”

”A great deal, actually,” Doc answers quickly.

”Like what?”

Again, just the D’Ville grin, no words.

”The headaches I’ve been suffering,” I preface a question. ”Your doing? Opening doors I wanted to remain shut?”

Headaches? Hmm. Well, apparently had you not locked them up so tightly, you wouldn’t have ever known I was here! I DID have to kick a few open..."

”Why? Why this sudden interest in someone so much younger than you? Why all the interest in someone you have nothing in common with?”

He says nothing initially.

”Might I approach… Your Highness?” he asks mockingly.

I wave my hand, giving him the ‘okay.’ Of course, this is my brain so I’m not going to make it easy on him. As he climbs, I keep adding steps with my mind. He starts taking two steps at a time, so I start adding three at a time. He stops suddenly.

”Clever,” he says with a less enthused grin.

”My house, my rules,” I reply with a smile as he resumes climbing the steps. I stop adding them, and allow him to reach the foot of throne.

”I think we have more in common then you care to let on.”

”Once maybe, Doc. Not anymore.”

Doc leans in close to me, giving me a deep sniff causing me to shift uncomfortably in the throne.

”Mmmm… Something in common, indeed.”

I hold my hands out to either side of the throne and quietly, my two lions venture in from the darkness behind me, resting their heads in my hands giving D’Ville a light warning growl. D’Ville backs up a step.

”For me?” he asks.

I say nothing.

”How thoughtful, young Duke...”

”Thaddeus,” I remind him again.

”It does get cold this time of year, I could use some new coats.”



Bursting from the ancient chair, I give D’Ville a hard shove and he leaves his feet. D’Ville misses the first few steps and lands hard on the next, tumbling down the last few to the floor below. Beginning the walk down the steps toward D’Ville, snow starts to fall in the darkened Basilica. My royal wear is now replaced by my battle gear. Gray and white camouflage, my sidearm holstered at my thigh. The name DUKE over the right side of my chest, a golden crown embroidered above the name. The blue and white Illuminatus flag patch on both shoulders.

When I reach the bottom, I place my boot under the shoulder of D’Ville who is on his hands and knees, and roll him over.

”No gear for me?” he asks as he eyeballs me.

”Like I said, my house, my rules.”

Doc only smiles. As he does so, I pounce on him, pinning his shoulders to the floor below him, and start throwing my closed fist towards his old man face. Over and over, my fist contacts his face until he’s bleeding from his nose and his left eye.

Not once does he try and fight back.

”Fight me, Lou!” I shout as I grip my hand around his throat and squeeze, increasing pressure gradually. Again, he never loses that fucking grin.

”Killllll meeeee,” he replies through strangled breath.

Out of restraint, I release my grip on his throat and step off of him. ”Mother fuck!” I shout out in frustration of the precarious situation I find myself in. I want so badly to stomp his skull into nothing but a mix of broken skull plate, blood and brain matter.

”Is that it?” Doc asks as he makes his way to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. ”Give me more.”

”I don’t want you dead, Lou!” I shout out in response and he again just grins.

”Yes you do, boy!”

”No! I just want you the fuck out of my head and stay the hell out of my memories!” I reply as I lean down to pet the lions who are none too thrilled with what they’re seeing. Agitated would be an understatement.

”Then you’ll have to kill me,” he says as he starts to climb the steps behind me.

Suddenly, I’m ripped into the air by unseen forces and sent colliding into a stone pillar in the Basilica, the back of my head cracking off the floor and I’m immediately immobilized by tinnitus, a recurring symptom of a past concussion. Trying to see Doc through my blurred vision but still unable to move, I can make out one of my lions pouncing on D’Ville. As my vision clears, I can see its Simba and he has his mouth locked up tight on D’Ville’s arm. Before I can do anything, Doc twitches his head to his right and Simba falls limp to the floor after a slight whimper.

Doc examines the wounds to his arm and I jump to my feet and rush over to my fallen lion. Mufasa rears up, staring at Doc like he wants to pounce.

”Control that beast, young Duke, or go home with neither,” he warns me.

I glance at Doc, then over at Mufasa.

”Heel, Mufasa!” I command, but he isn’t listening and lets out a deafening roar. ”Shit,” I mutter under my breath. With the power of thought, a large cage now surrounds my remaining lion. For a moment, kneeling beside Simba, I cradle his head as he draws his last breath.

Locked in the cage, Mufasa lets out another deafening roar as he throws the weight of his body against the walls of the cage, trying to break it apart. Wiping the curled hair out of my eyes, I stand up and draw my pistol.

”Now we’re getting somewhere,” D’Ville says as he backpedals slowly.

I walk toward him, gun drawn and pointed, then fire. Pull the hammer, fire. Pull again, fire. With each successive shot, Doc is rocked, but doesn’t fall. I fire the weapon, hitting him several times, emptying the magazine. After changing the magazine I pull the hammer back again and look at Doc. His grin hasn’t disappeared and blood gushes from each of his wounds.

Behind me, I hear the cage collapse and Mufasa is free. He charges toward Doc and I can see D’Ville dart his eyes in his direction so I fire, just inches away from his forehead. The eyes roll back in D’Ville’s head and Mufasa pounces, locking his jaw on D’Ville’s throat as Doc falls backward. D’Ville hits the floor, but vanishes into nothing but an ashy smoke in the shape of his body.

Mufasa whimpers then stands on his hind legs, placing his front paws on my shoulder just as I holster my weapon. ”You’re a good boy, Mufasa,” I say to him with tears in my eyes as I hug him around his neck for a moment. He leave me and lands on his feet. The lion stands beside me for a moment, looking at his dead brother, then up at me, then again at his brother. Mufasa saunters over to where Simba lies and gives his brother a sniff. He nudges him gently with his snout then whimpers and collapses on the floor, resting his head upon his brothers lifeless body.

”WAKE HIM UP!” I shout out, as if those in my bedroom watching me sleep could actually hear me. For a moment, I sit beside my boys, angry with myself for bringing them into this. For a moment, I grieve uncontrollably, burying my head in Simba’s mane. A few seconds later, both lions vanish much in the way Doc did only moments ago.

With Louis D’Ville and both lions now gone from my subconscious dream world, I sit alone with my grief inside the snowy Basilica. In the distance, behind the throne, I can hear a creaking sound.

”Hello?” I call out like a fucking dumbass. No one else is here but you, dipshit.

Climbing to my feet, I wipe the snow from my ass as I climb the steps to the altar and walk past the throne. Lit up behind it are three doors and I’ve now reached the conclusion that D’Ville isn’t gone, he’s just moved somewhere else.

Etched into the first door: Plenty of Death. Etched into the second: Some Death. Etched into the third: Your Death.

”God dammit,” I mutter to myself as I reach up and turn the nob on the third door. Your death.


Once through the door, I enter into darkness. I turn back toward the door, but of course, it’s gone. A result of which makes me question just how much power here that Doctor D’Ville truly has. Does he have it all? Just enough to create doubt in my mind? Is he playing me now? Or am I still playing him?

Stepping forward into the abyss of blackness, the… memory… lights up before me and I stop in my tracks, taking it all in and surveying my surroundings. I stand alone in a meadow about a few hundred yards from a dense forest. It’s a warm sunny day with birds chirping and several deer pick at berries in the bushes near the tree line. My battle gear from earlier is replaced with ornate armor, lion heads on the shoulder plates, and find a sword sheathed at my side. Removing the sword to take a gander, in the blunt side of the blade, etched and gilded: LeoCor. Latin for Lionheart.

Beneath my feet, I feel a couple of thumps, as if something heavy were impacting the ground. Turning my head to take a peek with my sword still drawn, I notice a heavily armored pure black horse coming toward me slowly. It’s tall and muscular, certainly not bred for speed, but to take a licking. Sheathing my sword, the big brute comes closer and whinnies. On the thick leather armor running down the length of his head toward his nose, the letters TD are burned into the leather. MY initials.

As the horse draws near, I gently rub the unprotected side of his head. For a moment, I half expected this horse to start talking to me, causing me to laugh at myself for a quick second. Taking a second to place my right foot into the stirrup and climb upon the big brute, I notice the bedroll attached behind the all black saddle. PHOBOS, it reads in gold lettering. In Greek mythology, Phobos was the horse belonging to Ares, the God of War. Back in the real world, the Ares Project named themselves that because they believe I’m a terrorist warmonger.

”You rang?” asks the voice of my father as I sit down in the saddle, startling me. He too is sitting on an armored horse. He too, wears armor.

”What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, still perplexed.

”A guide, I suppose,” he answers.

”I’m so confused,” I admit to him.

”This is where you landed when you fell through Azrael’s time rift as an infant,” he begins to explain.

One of my most painful of memories. It’s sounds entirely crazy and bizarre. Azrael Erebus once helped my father see things through a different light, as in, what life might have been like had my mother not died. A result of that caused a rift in space time and yours truly fell through the wormhole as a baby.

When I landed here the year was 2514 and I was 15 years old and so very confused. It was kind of a ‘days of future past’ bizarro world. The world economy collapsed and nations fell. The United States became known as the American Empire, ruled by an Emperor. What used to be states in America became counties of the Empire, governed by kings and queens. Guns became scarce and non-existent. Slowly, what was old, became new again and what you see today in the modern day real world, reverted to medieval times in this one.

While I was here, I was taken in by a small village, often terrorized by the king and his men seeking money. In that village I met a girl named Lily. As time went by, Lily became the first girl I… loved, for lack of better terminology. At some point, as my father kept coming and going- why he didn’t just take me home, I’ll never know- the kings men sacked our little village for failure to pay taxes and took Lily who was also the daughter of the village leader for ransom.

A short time later, he sent her severed head back to us.

Entirely enraged, me and some of the villagers rode off to the kings castle in revolt. His men were simple idiots and were rather easy to cut down. Inside the castle, I confronted the king and had him dead to rights. Little did I know, he had one of the only guns in existence and shot me in the heart when I was about to kill him.

There’s a big part of me that wishes I’d have stayed dead. Maybe it’s shitty to say, but it’s the truth. It’s not that my life is hard, it isn’t. At least not in the way it is for average people. I’m not average and I never have been.

As my father and I quietly weave our way through the forest on horseback, two riders approach us on the rear.

”Who the hell are they?” I ask of my dad.

”Your body guards I guess,” he answers.

The one on my left removes his helm. To my surprise and delight, that role is filled by Corey fuckin’ Smith.

”How the hell is a hot twink supposed to protect me?” I ask facetiously.

”Dude, why’d you bring me into this?”

”I don’t know bro,” I answer him as we ride further into the forest. ”Probably all those texts you sent me warning me against D’Ville.”

”I was right,” Corey says as he looks around at the four of us. ”So like… is this the Four Horsemen of the A-Doc-alypse?” he asks, causing me to laugh.

As we near the edge of the forest that empties out into a small village, the other rider, still beneath his helm, mumbles something entirely inaudible and steers his horse right into a tree. The man falls off his horse and his armor clanks together as he hits the ground and his helm falls off his head.

”Jimmy fucking Caedus!?” I shout out a bit incredulously. ”What did you say?”

”I said I can’t see a fucking thing, Thadly!” he says as he collects himself and his helm, replacing it on his head.

”You have it on backwards, dumbass,” I say causing Corey to laugh and my dad to roll his eyes.

”These are they guys your subconscious called on to help you?”

I look at both of my homies from another life, then shrug and look back at my dad. ”Who you got?”

”Maybe you really are a lost cause,” he says as Caedus fixes his helm so he can see and climbs back on his horse.

”You look pretty hot in that armor, not gonna lie,” I say to Corey, causing him to blush just a little.

”Really?” he asks as he gives himself a once over, to which I nod as the four of us exit the forest. ”Maybe we’ll have ourselves a medieval romp in the hay before we go,” he jokes with one raised eyebrow.

”Christ,” says my father with a roll of his eyes.

”Sit STILL, stupid fucking horse!” Jim shouts as his horse keeps getting nervous and threatening to throw him from his saddle.

Reaching the clearing, it isn’t a small village like I said, but a row of shops outside the walls of the castle. My father looks at me, and I at him.

”You changed it,” he surmises.

I nod.

”Changed what?” Corey asks, but I ignore him for the moment.

”This is the end of the line, then.”

”It is.”

My father and his horse disappear into the ashy smoke, much the same was as Doc earlier and my lions.

”I guess its just the three of us then, huh Thadly?” Jim asks.

”Sorry Jim, your services won’t be needed,” I inform him.

Like my father, Jim Caedus also disappears into ashy smoke.

”What did you change?” Corey asks as I urge my horse forward into the town. Like six years ago, men on horseback are charging into the town, cutting down the kings men like a hot knife through butter. I only turn to look at Corey with a smirk, again electing not to answer his question.

”Thad! Why are you keeping me but let Caedus and your dad go?”

”Because I love you,” I say, turning toward him as we reach the courtyard. Behind us, men are battling with swords and one is shoved into the hind end of Corey’s horse. In response, the horse bucks and kicks the kings guard that bumped him, nearly throwing Corey off.

”Jesus fuck! I almost went over right there!” he shouts as he rights himself on the horse. ”Wait, you don’t love your dad?”

”Different kind of love,” I answer back.

We turn the corner and the courtyard to the castle is just a few hundred feet ahead. Men still battle and die around us, none of them paying any attention to us whatsoever.

”Why is it a different kind of love?” Corey inquires.

”I didn’t choose my father,” I begin to explain. ”But me and you? We chose each other.”

”Hey are you getting younger?” he asks and I only look at him with a smile. ”Wait, you are getting younger! When I first hooked up with you back there, you had some growth on your face… its gone.”

”Nice observation,” I say with a chuckle. ”If I get much younger, Chris Page might wanna buy my services on a street corner.”

”Ha! GOT ‘EM!” Corey says as he squints, trying hard to see the golden haired kid running around the corner, guards hot on his tail. ”Holy shit is that you?”

”Yep.”

”You’re a lot cuter now,” he says with a smile, causing me to chuckle.

We reach the memory version of myself, as two guards tackle him into the dirt. Him? Me? You know what I mean. After hopping off the horse, I draw my sword, Corey does the same. I grab the closest guy to me and he spins to elbow me, but I duck out of the way. Corey drives his sword right up between his armor. The other goes to hit the memory version of me in the face but I catch his arm, he looks up at me and I drive my sword right down into his neck.

”Holy shit, that was intense!”

”These guys are like… level one NPC’s bro, they weren’t anything,” I reply to him as I turn my attention to the young, golden haired, blue eyed version of me. He stares up at me knowingly but understandably confused.

”How come your hair and eyes are dark now compared to 15?” Corey asks, but I don’t answer him. Instead, I reach my hand out to the teenage me. He accepts and I help him to his feet.

”Thank you,” young Thad says to me.

”Don’t mention it.”

He turns to make his way to the front door of the castle, but with my steel clad fist, I grab him by his shoulder.

”You know what happens when you go in there?” I ask him.

”I’m gonna kill the king,” he says as he tries to turn away again, my grip not letting him go.

”You go in there, you die,” I inform young me. ”You knock him on his fat ass, you go to drive your sword into his chest, but he has a gun and shoots you in the heart.”

He stares at me perplexed. ”But there aren’t any guns,” he argues.

”I know, but he has one.”

”Let me go,” he insists.

”I can’t do that, I’m sorry.”

”He beheaded my Lily,” he says with a tear in his eye. ”He thought it’d be fun to send her head back to us in a box.”

”I know, Thaddeus,” I say to him as I begin to feel his pent up emotion.

”I have to avenge her,” he says as he once again tries to turn away. This time, I belt him in the temple with me steel fist, knocking him unconscious.

”That was… surreal.” That’s putting it mildly.

Leaving the horses outside, Corey follows me through the large double doors leading into the throne room of the ancient castle. Inside, the king paces behind the throne, paying us no attention whatsoever.

”How come you never told me about this one?” Corey whispers to me as we walk up the aisle toward the king.

”You’re here aren’t you?”

”Yeah but...”

”When you wake up, text me and let me know whether you remember this or not.”

”Stop!” shouts the king as he realizes we’re there. ”Guards!” he cries out.

”They’re busy being slaughtered,” I inform him. ”Your Majesty,” I lean toward him, mockingly.

”You there,” he says, pointing to me. He squints hard, like he might recognize me. ”Do I know you lad?”

”Thaddeus Duke, Your Majesty… though I’m not quite what you remember.”

”Yes!” he says with a clap of his hands. ”The foolish lad that insulted his king! Tell me, did you enjoy the gift I sent you?”

I say nothing. The gift he’s referring to, was Lily’s head. As I stand here watching him, seeing him live and breathe again after all these years, pent up rage and hurt and… I don’t know the word for it… boils toward the surface, urging to be let out.

”That lad with you, what’s his name?”

”Sir Corey the Broken,” I answer him.

”Hey!” Corey yells out, objecting to the moniker.

”Corey, pillar.”

”What?” he asks. In response, I eyeball the pillar to his left and nod. It takes a moment, but it finally registers and he retreats to cover.

”Just us then?”

I draw my sword and look at its blade.

”Is it death you’re looking for, boy!?” asks the king as he rises from his throne, his pistol in hand and pointed in my direction.

I toss my sword up at his feet.

”It certainly is,” I answer his question. ”Yours this time, not mine.”

It occurs to me in the moment, the word that was escaping me a bit ago.

Madness.



I dart behind a pillar as he fires the gun. The bullet impacts the pillar I stand behind, dust and stone chips rain down upon my head. Remembering the gun was faulty and always jammed after a shot, I step from behind the pillar.

”There you are, coward!”

He pulls the trigger as I climb the steps toward him. Just as I remembered, it jams.

”Damn!”

I reach him just as he clears the jam and it misfires badly, discharging the bullet toward the ceiling. Grabbing his hand gripping the pistol, I squeeze, causing his hand muscles to loosen their grip on the gun and it falls harmlessly to dangle from his finger.

”Perhaps we can work this out lad?” he questions. ”Sometimes, peaceful resolutions can be had if respectful discussions take place.”

Squeezing his wrist just a little harder, he drops the gun to the floor below and it chatters down the steps.

”I’ve thought about this from time to time you know?”

”About peaceful discussion?”

I shake my head no.

”About what it might be like, how I might do it… you know… killing you,” I say with a cold stare.

Corey pokes his head out from around the pillar. Realizing there’s no need for cover any longer, he steps out and watches the scene unfold.

”Thaddeus, right?” he asks, trying to remember my name. ”I think maybe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s take a step back and see if we can’t restart our relationship.”

I squeeze his wrist harder and harder, before headbutting him in the bridge of his nose and he falls to his knees, blood now gushing from his busted nasal cavity.

”I’ve thought of this moment for six years, and I won’t be robbed of seeing it through. Not from you.”

”You broke my nose!” he shouts as he tries to stop the blood with his free hand.

”Don’t worry, Your Majesty, it won’t hurt much longer,” I inform him as I grip him by his throat and land on him with all of my weight. The crown from his head hits the floor and rolls several feet away. Squeezing harder and harder, he struggles to breathe. He claws at my hands, claws at my face, but I’m much taller than he and my wingspan is larger. He can only reach my shoulders.

Not really wanting him to die just yet, I release my grip and lean off of him. Gasping for breath and clutching his throat, he struggles in vain to crawl away from me. Like a hungry lion stalking his prey, I follow him closely. He leans to his left to see where I am, but accidentally rolls down the steps, conveniently right next to his gun. Watching this unfold, just as the king gets his hand on the gun, Corey steps on his hand, then reaches down and removes it from the kings grasp before tossing it to me.

The King struggles to his feet as I grab my sword. It drags behind me as I descend the steps with a clang and a clang and a clang. I reach the lower surface as the king gets to his feet. He turns to face me with me pointing the gun at his chest. Six years ago, it was me staring down this same barrel.

Without warning, I pull the trigger, shooting him in the heart. He looks stunned as if he didn’t think I’d really do it. Blood pumps from the wound in his chest. Still standing, he tries in vain to stop the bleeding.

”You… shot… me,” he says as he watches his own blood pump out through his shaking fingers.

”And now I’m gonna kill you,” I say as I drive my sword through the front of his throat out the back of his neck. He starts to shake uncontrollably as shock begins to set in. Before removing the long blade from his neck, I give it a twist. After removal, I allow the king to fall to his knees, but grab him by his hair, intent on watching the life leave his eyes. Several seconds later, the blood pumping out of his wounds slows to a trickle and his eyes glaze over before his chest stops heaving. I let go of his hair and he falls dead on the stone floor.


CLAP!









CLAP!









CLAP!


”Thad,” Corey calls out to me before motioning toward the throne. I turn to see…




CLAP!


Doctor D’Ville.

”Well done young Duke,” he says from his place standing behind the throne. ”If you two were the same person,” D’Ville begins as he eyeballs Corey and I. ”Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a difficult task.”

D’Ville steps out from behind the throne. ”I don’t mind joint sessions, but I’m charging you separately,” he concludes.

”This isn’t what it looks like, Doc,” I inform him.

”No? Then what is it?”

”I warned you not to trust him, Thad! I tried to tell you...”

"And is that based from experience, Mr. Smith? Last I recall, you got exactly what you asked of me. You just didn't realize what you were asking."

Corey opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

”Please, young Duke. Have a seat,” D’Ville says to me, motioning toward the throne. ”We’re in session.”

Deciding to humor the old man, I advance up the steps and sit the throne. Once again, my armor is replaced by the crimson and gold colored royal wear. His doing, I assume to myself.

”How does it feel?” he asks. ”Sitting the throne again.”

”I feel nothing,” I reply.

Doc paces slowly behind the throne and stops, before placing his hand on my shoulder.

”The Lyin’ King,” he muses aloud.

In response, I shake my head. ”I’m not lying, Doc. I feel nothing.”

”You don’t feel invincible?” Doc asks in my right ear before quickly switching to my left. ”You don’t feel the power that comes from sitting in that chair?”

”I… it’s different. It isn’t real.”

”You murdered the king, beautifully brutally might I add, that would make you the king now would it not? You killed the king, you sit in his throne and… put this on,” he stops as he hands me the crown.

”Doc, this is just...”

”Do it.”

Humoring him again, I place the dead kings crown upon my head.

”Power… is something you take boy!”

His statement jars a memory loose and right in front of us as if we were watching a film, is an old memory between me and my grandfather.

”Now is not the time!” Asmodeus yells out at me.

”You made me the Defense Minister, Grandfather, you gave me that power now let me use it!”

”Gave you? If I gave you power, then you have nothing. Power… is something you take boy!”

The scene fades quickly and I look at Doc, grinning of course.

”In reality Doc, he killed me, it’s not even real.”

”Oh?” he points down at the floor to the dead king. ”Yet there he lies.”

”Yeah but Doc...”

”Tell me, young Duke, how did it feel to have the power to alter history? How did it feel when he avoided that first shot and knew his gun was going to jam? How did it feel, when you squeezed his wretched little wrist?”

I hesitate to answer.

”I don’t know how it felt.”

Doc gives me a deep sniff.

”Yes you do.

“How did it feel to squeeze all but the last of his life from him? How did it feel to shoot him in the heart like he shot you six years ago? How did it feel to drive that beautiful sword through the front, and out the back?

“How did it feel, Thaddeus...”

His uncharacteristic referral to me by my first name causes me to look up at him for a moment before returning my attention to the dead king.

”...to at long last, watch him take his last breath?”

I sit silently for a moment in thought.

”I waited to do that for six long years, Doc.”

”Indeed.”

”There were times… not so much lately… where I’d lie awake at night. I could see Lily’s face. I could see it all clear as daylight. I could see the king laughing as he gave us her head. And later in this very room… I could see in slow motion that bullet hitting me in the heart.”

”And when you thought of those terrible memories, young Duke, what did you think about?”

”How I could avenge Lily… and myself.”

”You were born to live again and what did you do with that new lease on life?”

”Rained hellfire all over Europe.”

”Why?”

”Because I could.”

Doc smiles.

”It made you feel whole again. It filled the void left in you when that wretched idiot took your beloved Lily away from you.”

”Maybe.”

”You came here chasing after me is what you think… but the fact is, I followed you. The door you chose was your own creation.”

I say nothing, electing to simply look at the good doctor.

”When you got here and decided to chase your wildest desires for revenge, how did it feel to see it through? How did it feel to finally exact your revenge?”

”Satisfying.”

”Of course it did. There’s a darkness in you young Duke, tell me there isn’t.”

Again, I say nothing.

”Am I wasting my time trying to find it? Am I wasting my time trying to set you free?”

I hesitate to answer.

He stares into my eyes with his typical grin.

”I don’t know,” I answer him honestly.

”Now we’re making progress,” he says as he places his hand on my shoulder. ”Now we can begin.”


It’s funny to me, honestly. I sit here watching these Robert Main promos, and I know its him. I mean, it looks like him. Yet why is that when I see his mouth move, all I hear is Chris Page’s voice? They got some real Weekend at Bernie’s shit goin’ on down there at the ranch.

I spit truth.

I always have.

These two overachieving jokes want to sit on the pedestal they created for themselves with the tons of ego they’ve wrapped themselves in and not only spit out the same useless drivel while grasping at straws and repeating the same old shit they’ve been spitting since the first Chris Page promo. Yeah, you might want to act like you guys plan every god damn thing and can predict every god damn thing but here’s the fact: all I do is tell the people the truth about you. It’s not spin. It’s truth and the truth is predictable because it’s already known. So, let’s not act like y’all have superior brain power when you just said my dad was dead when he lost a buried alive match.

You buried him alive.

You didn’t bury him dead.

“Robert” my boy, and yeah I’m using the finger air quotes because the signs are written all over this shit that something just ain’t right in Cataclysmland. “Robert”, no one rips off Chris Page. Only a fool would rip off Chris Page. Nobody will ever try to take an idea from Chris Page. Hinting around that my first promo was a rip off of Chris Page because he started seeing a shrink five weeks ago is all the proof of your inferior brain power that anyone needs. Listen close because I’mma learn you something big guy, in my first match back when I was under a mask and calling myself The Collector, I released some promos against Gage Gannon, you know, like we do every time we have a match and “Robert” wouldn’t you know it, I happened to be seeing my shrink wayyy back then, so you tell me… who’s copying who? What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Or maybe I planned it all and I saw into the future and saw Page seeing a shrink and was like ‘hmmm, now that there is good drama, I’mma copy it and use it before him so “Robert” “Main” can come out here several months later and call me out for copying something I did before Page…

See, now its all messy.

The reality is really quite simple. You both should see a shrink and seek some guidance and maybe find a fourth personality that is even the least bit interesting.

Main and Page? Nobody cares.

The Omega and the Beast? Nobody cares.

The Monster and the Monstrosity? Nobody cares.

Why? Because between the two of you and all six of your collective personalities, you have the intelligence of a fucking lava lamp, the attention spans of a single gnat and the personalities of a fucking log. No one cares about Cataclysm, because there’s nothing to care about.

You guys talk up this big run you guys are on like its gonna fuckin’ matter after tomorrow night. It won’t. Your reign of mehh comes to an end tomorrow night at High Stakes. You talk about steamrolling the Sick Cunts as if one half of that team didn’t, you know, just kinda mail it in a little (okay, a lot) to save himself for his cash in later in the night.

“Robert” talks a big game like he’s the best fucking thing to hit the squared circle, but its a lot easier to be the big dog when you only wrestle once a month and your run is protected by facing guys like Zane and Chaos all the god damn time.

Yep.

True main eventer right there.

Wrestle once a month, do nothing really that anyone cares about, and feel untouchable. Main, you’re touchable. Like everyone else, you’re beatable. You’re not facing Shane and Tristan Slater, which for the record, is a rather predictable outcome, you’re facing one of the greatest legends this sport has ever seen, and a fucking generational talent, an absolute fucking phenom.

You don’t have to like it, but once again, just because you don’t want it to be true, doesn’t make it any less of a fact. Facts don’t care about your feelings boys.

These assholes think they’re setting some kind of trend by holding hands and being all “you’re really good man” while the other is all like “no you’re really good man” and sit there verbally sucking each others dicks while Sons of Anarchy plays in the background or some shit, but I got news… every tag team champion that has come down the line has done the exact shame shit, only most of them were far more interesting and entertaining.

Doc and I? Yeah we operate a little different. It’s unorthodox, but it works. If it wasn’t working, you wouldn’t have waited until the last day to drop the rest of your useless played out shit that again, no one cares about but you.

This run you’ve had guys, I fear its given you a false sense of confidence. You laugh, you mock, you sit there in your echo chamber and repeat each other… that’s cute by the way. Transparent, but cute. Yet all the while, there’s this annoying little thorn in your side kid that just won’t stop. Just won’t shut up. Just won’t fall to the level that you want him to in order for you to make him easy pickin’s. Nah man, that just ain’t my thing.

You guys like to tell anyone that listens that no matter what happens to you guys, whether its good or bad, that it was all part of your master plan, but then you brag about the fact you buried my dad so let me ask you a question I know I’ll never hear the answer to: I came to Savage that night, don’t you think that if he or I wanted his career to continue that I’d have gotten there earlier? Do you think you would have buried him if I didn’t allow it to happen? I mean, lets face facts shall we? Anytime I have had even a little bit of help from someone against the two of you, whether it was my dad or Doc or anyone else… what did you two do?

Ran like scalded dogs.

Why?

Because one on one, you guys can’t tame me, can’t put me down. Two on one, you guys almost succeeded, but ya know what, you know I’mma still fight you because I don’t even give a fuck… two on two… you want no fucking part of because this “midcard” as you say, Thaddeus with an even side is just too big a mountain for your little motor bikes to climb.

Oh my god, all the facts!

Length wins championships.

Or wait, no. I think its… quality… you know, quality ring work.

I’ll let you think you guys dictated this whole thing to Doc and I, I really don’t care. Fact is while you were busy cramming some nonsense about running guns down our throat like Fat Peter Gilmour downs chicken parm, I was busy dropping actual quality content. So whatever moral victory you thought you were getting by dictating “length,” I gave it right back to you and so did Doc in the form of quality you could never hope to match.

The thing you don’t seem to understand is there is no vanity with Doc. He gets his fun by getting into peoples heads and I know I don’t have to like D’Ville. I don’t have to trust D’Ville. I don’t even have to agree with D’Ville. Fact is, he chose me, I didn’t choose him. I’m not the one that needs to worry about Louis D’Ville’s presence in this match.

You do. It’s you that drawn his ire, not me. He doesn’t need to appear in my hit pieces, nor I in his, to echo me and laugh with me at you two overgrown idiots like the two of you obviously do. Unlike the two of you, we can think for ourselves. Unlike you two, we have the confidence in ourselves and each other that the other guy is gonna do his part. That’s the kind of synchronization that can’t be taught, and it can’t be bought.

If that’s not at least some kind of trust on a professional level, then I don’t know what is.

The thing about great tag teams is, even the best have their wheels fall off. Even the best meet a team they just can’t beat. Even the best finally succumb to a team that’s just too good, too powerful to overcome and they reach the end of the road.

At High Stakes, Cataclysm’s tombstone gets etched. At High Stakes, Cataclysm’s reign of mehh comes to its final bell. At High Stakes, those Tag Team titles are changing hands and we won’t be giving them to anyone else, anytime soon. And boys, that’s just another fact that you’re just gonna have to live with. Thaddeus Duke and Louis D’Ville are walking into Tombstone, Arizona with guns drawn and we’re walking out having ended Cataclysm for good. You've had a mehh run, guys. And now its over.

Why?

Because we choose it.]]> <![CDATA[Game over.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39013 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 21:12:47 -0800 Chris Page]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39013 The scene opens on the historic streets of Tombstone, Arizona.



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A lot of history has taken place on these streets. A city that was once looked at as the New York of the West from the gold rush of the 1800s to Doc Holiday and the Earp brother's historic gunfight at the O.K Corral. In less than twenty-four hours from now, the streets are going to be filled with thousands of rabid XWF fans and millions upon millions tuning in from the confines of their own homes for two simple reasons…. The first, will the historic Tag Title reign of Cataclysm eclipse the longest-reigning documented Tag Team Champions in the history of the XWF, and the second is just who will leave the High Stakes Battle Royale as the new XWF Universal Champion.


It's dusk, the sun is starting to set on a seasonably warm Tombstone day as the set for XWF’s High Stakes is in its finishing touches and final preparations. The ring is lit up, the canvass seemingly settling in before beginning the host of tomorrow night’s violence and brutality that will no doubt unfold. It’s clean as the autumn air yet will leave soak in the blood of the XWF Talent. A total of eight title matches but only one that’s carrying an emotional investment than the Ladder Match pitting the challengers of Thaddeus Duke and The Good Doctor taking on the two-man wrecking machine known as Cataclysm.







Upon the opening of “Riders on the Storm” by the epic poet Jim Morrison we see walking out to the top of the ramp draped in Tag Team Gold is none other than the reigning and defending XWF World Tag Team Champions Chris Page and Robert Main, collectively called Cataclysm. Chris and Robert are each dressed in long black trench coats, black jeans, and black snakeskin cowboy boots. The trench coats sit on top of white dress shirts that are tucked in with black cowboy hats channeling their versions of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday.


The champions have the belts over their right shoulders as they start to make the walk towards the empty ring. For the first time we see four Ladders; one on each side of the ring. The duo reaches ringside where the look up at the top of the Ladder before Page climbs up on the ring apron before stepping through the ropes and into the ring while Robert turns and makes his way up the ring steps to the ring apron before stepping over the top rope and into the ring.


No microphone is needed as the entrance slowly fades away leaving Cataclysm in the ring, becoming one with the environment that is going to house the biggest gunfight since the fight at the O.K. Corral.


” To think we almost didn’t make it.”


It’s been an interesting ride for the tag champions en route to this one event. Nearly getting caught running guns to Robert getting released from jail over a technicality to buy enough time to make this defense. The roads of adventure never cease to amaze. The versatility Cataclysm carries from one team to another from deeper and darker situations to not so deep or dark issues. The off-balancing off just what you’re going to get directly determines how our opponents will combat us.


It’s usually by now a standard attack that even our very challengers tomorrow night are already guilty of themselves; disheartening, yes, but surely you didn’t expect anything less when Thaddeus Duke is In the mix. We didn’t.


” Reminds me of why I got out of the family business and into the wrestling business.”


” Something told me shit was going to go sideways man, and while I’ve had my issues with the law doing fed time isn’t my idea of fun.”


Chris’s idea of fun is doing what he’s been doing to Thaddeus Duke since the young Duke walked into his life and has decided not to leave…. Slapping him around like the chump that he is while further exposing him as the sheer nobody that he has become.


” That’s behind us now. We made the drop, we made the money and now it’s time for us to complete the story by stamping our ticket to being the longest-reigning Tag Champions in the documented history of this company.”


Robert kneels where he runs his fingertips across the smooth surface of the mat cover as he looks out into the near-empty streets of Tombstone, Arizona.


” Tomorrow night thousands of fans are going to congregate in these streets and are going to be privy to the damnedest fight this place has seen since the eighteen hundreds. It’s going to be the night in which all the talk ends and we solidify ourselves as the best of the best yet again.”


Robert stands back up as we see Chris walk towards the ropes.


” Just knowing the screams of pain that will echo throughout these streets, the massacre that is going to unfold in front of a national audience brings a smile to my face.”


Chris walks over to a set of ropes where he reaches out taking ahold of the top rope before closing his eyes. Suddenly the screen flickers before going black and white.



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A roar of boos from the crowd is heard from all sides of the ring as we see Chris Page choking away at Thaddeus Duke with both hands firmly wrapped around his throat back against a neutral corner. Like a boa constrictor, the grip on Thad’s skin tightens, his gasps for air, and the complete look of shock in his eyes as life slips away from him is ever-present.


” They truly have no idea the sand storm they’re about to walk into.


Chris Page laces Thaddeus across the chest with a vile knife-edge shop before he starts to bite Duke across the bridge of the nose.


” An all-out street fight is going to boil over and stain the streets with bloodshed.”



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” It’s going to soak into the sands of these streets and leave a lasting impression.”


Visions of Robert Main laying a stiff boot to the face of The Good Doctor sending Louie to the mat is seen. It’s followed up with a leg drop across the throat. The boos from the crowd continue to ring out from all areas around the ringside area.


” The world is waiting for Doc and I to cross paths and finally answer the unanswered question that infests the minds of the mindless; who is the better man? The answer is painfully obvious, that better man is me.”


Robert Main shoots Doc across the ring towards a neutral corner only to charge in after him delivering a running splash that smashes Doc back against the buckles.


” While you’ve been busy sitting on the sidelines enjoying a beverage and some popcorn like the spectator that you are I’ve been in the ring carrying the weight of this company across my broad shoulders. When you’ve been watching as long as Louie has you don’t just jump back in the ring an expect to be as flawless as you once were; which has been evident with how you’ve elected to handle yourself in the final hours before this confrontation.”


We fade from black and white back into a live shot of Chris and Robert, each man standing center ring with the XWF Tag Titles now hanging high above their heads.


” There are a plethora of things in this equation that establishes that we’re the best; two of the main things are hanging above our heads. When Robert and I took these titles from Shawn Warstein and Noah Jackson we took them under the pretenses of making them mean something more than a set of mid-card titles like our predecessors. Robert and I weren’t content with being lackluster; and we knew when we won them that everyone was laying in weight to use the ill-fated “you’ve done nothing” with their routine. We got ahead of that curve by issuing an open challenge, an open contract for anyone to sign at any time.”


” And we are blamed for the lack of pieces of talent that have a pair of nuts to sign that dotted line, that’s cool because that same tired “what have you done” routine is about as played out as Thad’s nineteenth knee injury. It’s a basic bitch response that even Chris and I thought the two of you would have known better but in all actuality, you’ve taken yourselves from legitimate challengers into the pool that is everyone else.”


” Hanging above our heads is the prize that we’ve dangled like a carrot in front of your face to get you to this point, to get you in this kind of environment where all bets are off. The risks that we’re going to take, the number of times our bodies will be put in harm’s way…”


Closing his eyes the screen takes a shift back into black and white as now Chris Page and Thaddeus Duke are shown standing on a Ladder under the XWF Tag Titles that hand above the ring. Thaddeus drives a right hand to the face of Page that rocks Chris nearly causing him to lose his balance. Chris reaches out gouging Thaddeus in the eyes just as he’s reaching up towards the gold.


” The question then becomes how far are you willing to go?”


Instead of reaching up towards the belts we see Chris take Thaddeus off the Ladder with a Swinging Neck Breaker sending both men to free-falling down to the canvass where they land hard to a thunderous ovation from the standing room only crowd on the streets of Tombstone.


” The way you’ve approached us is as if this is Thad versus Page and Main versus Doc; I question f either of you has what it takes to make the sacrifices it takes to be a team. It’s easy to say someone’s got your back, it’s something completely different for that person to have yours. Neither of you is going to crack the code that is Cataclysm thinking singularly while Robert and I continue to think collectively.”


Robert Main and Chris Page are now shown as Chris Page hoists Doc up for a Powerbomb, he runs towards a neutral corner delivering the buckle bomb into a running enziguri on the ring apron from Robert Main. It flashes into Main delivering an inverted atomic drop to Thaddeus while Page bounces off the ropes delivering a clothesline to Duke completing a Hart Attack.


” Chris and I work on a different level than either of you can begin to comprehend. We have something in spades that neither of you can carry. Reliability.”


We cut back to a live shot of Chris and Robert in the ring where now a Ladder sits under the Tag Titles with the Champions standing on each side of the Ladder itself.


” For the last twelve months he and I have shown up for work, we’ve carried the torch of the Tag Division, we’ve kept it consistent every time we’ve stepped foot inside these ropes and put those titles on the line. Can the same be said for the two of you? How long before your next disappearing act? Doc? Are you sticking around in an attempt to re-live glory days from years past? You going to I don’t know, get recognized as a legendary talent that you crave? How about Thaddeus? Can he make it through a major event without having to go home and lick his wounds while tweeting out how glorious he is? “


” Consistency.”


Robert steps forward and away from the Ladder as he continues.


” You don’t get to shit the bed with your first promo and bounce back with one three times as long and us not take the credit for it. In Thaddeus' case, he realized real quick that being his cookie-cutter self wasn’t going to be enough and his attempt to take this to a “lengthy” battle will prove to fail him just as he’s elected to look past me a majority of this run. Rookie mistakes don’t get you to the championships; it gets you the loser’s share of the purse and further exposes you for not being that heavy hitter or main event player that you want everyone to believe you to be.”


Robert stops, he composes himself for a second before he continues.


” The thoughts of shedding your blood for your shortcomings is enough to forgive you for that indiscretion until I can shed it tomorrow night in person.”


Robert closes his eyes as the scene shifts back to black and white. Robert Main has Thaddeus on the floor, Thaddeus face a crimson mask as Robert gouges at Thaddeus' forehead seemingly ripping his flesh from his bone. Thaddeus screams out in sheer pain before dropping to one knee. Robert wipes Thad’s blood across his bare chest as is wearing it as a badge of honor.


Chris Page is shown on the opposite side of the ring with a camera in hand as he measures Doc.


” Making Lou regret his decision of inserting himself into this affair, further showing him why the Hall of Legends isn’t fitting for someone like him, a guy that tries so hard to sell himself on being a fighter but yet was stupid enough to pick a poser to save.”


Chris shatters the camera across Doc’s face sending him falling to the floor like a ton of bricks. The crowd erupts with loud boos as Chris stands over the good doctor taunting him, screaming for him to get up!


” The difference between good and great rests within one fundamentally simple fact. The greats always push the goods to a different level. Take a look at the young Duke for example; yeah he fucked himself three ways from Sunday with his first outing, but look at the time and energy he put into his second one and tell me that it isn’t because WE pushed him to that.”


Returning to the live shot we see Chris Page step forward beside Robert as he continues.


” We can stand here and make that bold assessment and can mean every word of it… can you say the same thing? Have you pushed us to a higher level?”


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” You haven’t. You’ll tell yourselves that you have but here in the real world where the rest of us live we have led the entire way while collectively, as a team you’ve both trailed us since day one. You’ve mocked us, you’ve mocked our personalities and you made more false claims in four promos than President Trump has over the last four years! But hey, whatever you need to tell yourselves to put yourselves over, am I right?


” You better go ahead and put yourselves over in your spots leading to this confrontation because I know we sure as shit aren’t putting your over tomorrow night.”


” You boys have followed our trail of breadcrumbs to even going into detail over Robert intentionally dropping the Xtreme Title to Reggie Estrada! We said you’d do it, we said you’d look at it as some sort of kink in our armor going into this critical title defense only to look dumb as fuck yet again when the masterplan unraveled another layer.”


” We don’t expect either of you cunt cakes to understand that this was another layer to a much bigger picture, and yes we’re well aware that you will continue to beat it into the ground like a dead horse because when it’s the only piece of ammunition you’ve got and you’re as predictable as you both have become it’s become expected. The only issue rests with how I was challenged… I took Dick’s words to heart and took Doc’s words to heart when they said the only way I’d win the Universal Championship is with a briefcase, I reflected on my initial title win at Leap of Faith just a few short years ago and how I did climb to the top of the mountain with a briefcase leading the way.”


Robert steps towards the camera taking center stage as his glare sends a chill down your spine like a cold winter’s night in the Arizona desert.


” There’s not a whole lot people can throw at me that’s not easily deflected, but that one I can’t seem to shake. Yes, I intentionally dropped the Xtreme Championship for the sole purpose of making my intentions known that I am coming for MY Universal Championship regardless of whom is holding it and I’m doing it without the fallback of a briefcase.”


” And you fucking mutts lapped it all up like a couple of starving stray dogs that were tossed some table scraps.”


” I made you abandon your initial game plan and divert into a narrative that I controlled; like a puppet master you both danced to the tune that I played for you. In this game, you’ve both been so far behind it’s embarrassing to watch you feverishly try to play catch up while Chris and I truck along continuing to show the federation why we are the top two stars not only in the Tag Team Division but in the goddamn company as a whole. “


” Thad’s got too much on his plate, he’s swallowed by the commitments he’s made and now is at a crossroads as to what’s more important, the Tag Titles or the Universal Title? Time isn’t on your side young man, and if you want to be as good as you claim to be you’d be able to juggle this shit AND be ahead of the curve instead of trying to find a clever response for why you’re so far behind the eight balls.”


There’s a pause from Chris before he starts to laugh under his breath. He reaches over thumping Rob on the shoulder with his right hand as he states.


” It’s like Louie’s justification for being a little butt-hurt over my spot in the Hall of Legends versus his spot on the Top 50… Really? Is that the direction we’re going?”



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” Bruh with all the YEARS you’ve spent here versus the collective year and a half I’ve been here since 2005 and you’re NOT on that list of 50 alongside 49 other pieces of talent that gave that same kind of dedication that you gave I’d be pretty pissed off; keep in mind though that list you try to throw in my face as several of Hall of Legends on there, where are you in that Hall? Oh fucking right, you’re still not there. Sorry, not sorry. I’m also not sorry that you are reduced to using a list that hasn’t been updated in three years as a feeble attempt to reduce the hit that I am STILL looked at as a Legend while just looked at as “good”.”


” You didn’t expect him not to try to turn a truth into a lie did you? That’s what he does, it's his deal and while he’s fooled many throughout his career we’re still ahead of that curve and still contemplate why someone like you would stoop to those rookie levels… again. If he thinks that Top 50 list means something take a look at some of the names on that list and tell me they’re not consolation prizes; Michael Graves? Chris Chaos? Robbie Bourbon?”


” You keep that top 50 homie and you’ll find me on the list of 44 that matter; what’s up with that “what have you done?” routine for like the third time in two weeks, and this is from one of the greatest of all time!”



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Chris just shakes his head.


” What’s the matter Doc? Running out of things to say that you’re resorting to pulling a Thad?”


” It’s insane to me how people consider this kind of shit as “cutting edge” or “groundbreaking”. Well, since he had to ask again I guess we need to answer… again.”


” Here’s what we’ve done Doc, we’ve beaten everyone booked opposite us, you know kind of what we’re going to do to you and Thaddeus tomorrow night when you can’t hide behind your words and you’re forced to swallow your pride and walk to the ring with a partner that’s in way over his head as he’s shown, and you’re going to have to do what nobody else has been able to do… beat us.”


” And we’ve even given you the advantage by being able to climb a ladder to do it.”


Chris closes his eyes imagining the destruction that is going to be caused to Thaddeus. He envisions Thaddeus on the mat with a Ladder on top of him. Chris runs towards the ropes where he springboards off the middle rope delivering a moonsault on top of the Ladder driving it into the ribs and sternum of Thad Duke.



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Cutting back to the live shot Chris has a satisfying smirk on his face as he opens his eyes.


” We’ve catered to your wheelhouse of no rules, anything goes… isn’t that right Lou? Then why aren’t you talking about that instead of constantly repeating yourself with the same dribble you’ve already spoken on. How many times can you look at yourself in the mirror and claim my success was because you weren’t here? Mother fucker you don’t carry that kind of power, it’s a shame that you still think that you do. It’s like you have to reach so far to the most outlandish subject matters to try and tie some sort of relevancy of yourself into it when you don’t play into it at all. Reality is with or without you in the picture I would have still taken my rightful place on top of this federation… and to take it a step further if you still want to question that fact put your name on the dotted line and step into this ring with me one on one and allow me to lend you just a little bit of credibility that you’re seeking.”


” He won’t do that.”


Chris softly states.


” It would mean he’d had to step out of his comfort zone and that’s just not a thing he’s keen on doing. He’s one of those that picks and chooses his times to step in the ring and who he steps into the ring with. He thinks that this is an opportune time to try and stop us from achieving something that we’ve worked towards while he’s been sipping umbrella drinks basking in the glory of years gone past. It’s easy to stand on the sidelines and point the fingers at the guys putting in the work and as he’s learning it’s something completely different to get your ass back in the trenches and fire the shots; again with blanks, but firing shots nonetheless.”


” Just thinking about the pain and suffering we are going to put them through, the imagines of violence that are dancing around in my head….”



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” The various ways we’re going to have at our disposal to inflict our will…”



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” To cement our legacies as the best by beating two that think they’re the best.”



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” Cracking their ribs…”



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Robert opens his eyes as we return the live shot.


” You’ve both played the wrong kind of game; this isolate and hope for the best routine aren’t going to cut it. You’ve both failed to give us the credit we’re due when the proof is right there in the pudding. We’ve told you what you would say…”


” You’ve said it.”


” You’ve done shot the same ammo as Centurion and Ruby…”


” Coincidentally also in the Hall of Legends… where’ is Doctor Lou? Oh yeah, he’s not there.”


” You’ve brought nothing tangible to the table that would remotely be considered threatening to our reign as XWF Tag Team Champions. We are primed and ready to go to war, we’ve carefully laid your path that leads you right here to Tombstone and High Stakes where…”


Robert shifts his gaze up towards the XWF Tag Titles that are hanging high above his head.


” Those belts right there are going to be hanging right there for either of you to try and claim.”


Robert lowers his head as Chris states.


” Then we’re brought back to the one question that will separate failure from success. Is either of you willing to do what needs to be done to ascend the Ladder and take away what you claim we’ve done nothing with? Unlike Doc, you know, the one that brags about a reign that can’t be proven yet tries to come at us about knowing history on the same cycle his partner openly admitted to being a lazy fuck to check up on his history! Doc is treating this like a glorified Fatal Four Way as opposed to a match that he has a partner… even if that partner is Thaddeus.”


” What’s the obsession with our masks? More importantly for a guy that hammers people on the history, you might want to go back and check ours and you’ll find the answer to that question in which you’re seeking… but since you won’t do that we will lob you that answer one last time in the off chance you’re both going to remotely pay any attention at all. Our masks represent the level of violence that’s needed to dispose of you; while you’ve both made a focal point out of it… once again by design… we’ve pretty much told you who you’re dealing with because you’re not worth the Omega or the Beast… they’re not needed to wad you, two chumps, up and throw you away like the pieces of trash you are.”


” We aren’t looking for your approval, we’re not looking for you to like us, we’re not looking for your respect or even your praise… we’re looking for your blood, we’re looking to finally end this delusion where Thaddeus is anything other than a second to Corey Smith or anyone else that will put his name in a brighter light for when his name is in that light by itself that light starts to flicker before dimming out to the darkness that infests his inner thoughts and opens himself up to his inner demons; demons that he didn’t know existed.”


” That’s what we do. We lay the traps and you dumbasses walk right into them all the while thinking that you’re in the driver’s seat. You’ve not isolated us, you’ve not broken us, you’ve BARELY motivated us… but it’s not going to stop us from walking down to this ring tomorrow night on Pay-Per-View to show you both exactly how the fuck we’re going to get down. I have that eager feeling in the pit of the stomach; like waking up on Christmas day as a kid and invading my living room to shred open all my gifts that Santa Parents brought me.”


Validation is going to be the ultimate feeling once we’re through using your bodies to absorb all the pain and destruction we choose to force you to endure. We know how good we are and why these titles are looked at why both of your grubby paws want a piece of them.


” Here’s a question.”


” Shoot.”


” Since we’ve done absolutely nothing with these titles other than defending them and not allow them to become paperweights like the good doctor in the past; why are they trying so hard to attain them? Again, it’s not like teams are going to suddenly flood into the federation to challenge you for them; but it doesn’t negate why Doc craves them so bad.”


” Is that a serious question?”


” Fuck no!”


Chris and Robert share a laugh amongst themselves as they each look up towards the XWF Tag Titles which are lightly swaying with a pickup of wind.


” There’s not going to be a Cinderella story at High Stakes, there’s not going to be a situation where good will triumph over evil. We have a stranglehold on those belts and the only way that either of you is going to get them is if you pry them away from our cold dead hands.”


Chris and Robert lower their heads from the title belts.


” History Thaddeus, history has a way of repeating itself.”



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Chris has produced a pair of handcuffs.


” History shows us you’ve been outsmarted in this exact situation before… and that time I didn’t have my heavy standing by my side to further shift the odds in my favor. While this is about Robert and I staking claim to what is rightfully ours it will also serve a secondary purpose of ending whatever claims that you seem to think you have when it comes to being better than me.”


” The final hours are upon us and we’re in prime position to go ahead and take this one home. Over the last two weeks, the challengers have been one step behind, they’ve not done a damn thing that separates themselves from the challengers of Chris Chaos and Peter Gilmour from many months back, they’ve done nothing but hinge on our words to form a basis of attack that is just flat out embarrassing and subpar at best.”


” The four of us are about to put ourselves in a dangerous situation that can go from bad to worse within the batting of an eyelash.”


” One ladder tip that’s off by just a fraction of an inch could be catastrophic.”


” We welcome the challenge you’ve put up.”


Robert starts to climb the Ladder.


” But the ending of this story will remain a virtual unknown…”


” Until we decide to takes those steps up that Ladder.”


Robert reaches the halfway point on the Ladder as he looks towards the camera.


” Get a good shot, take a nice long look…”


Robert climbs up one more rung on the Ladder.


” Because one way… or the other….”


Robert takes another step up on the Ladder where he shifts his eyes up towards the XWF Tag Team Championship.


” This story ends with Cataclysm STILL standing on top of the Tag Team Division.”


Robert reaches up towards the titles, his rough, callous hands taking ahold of one of the straps where he pulls it free followed by the second strap on the second title.


” A for effort boys… better luck next time.”



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” Don’t shoot the messengers.”



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The scene draws to a close with Robert Main sitting on the Ladder with his Tag Title as he passes Chris’s tag title down to him. Main and Page stand tall as we fade to black.]]> The scene opens on the historic streets of Tombstone, Arizona.



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A lot of history has taken place on these streets. A city that was once looked at as the New York of the West from the gold rush of the 1800s to Doc Holiday and the Earp brother's historic gunfight at the O.K Corral. In less than twenty-four hours from now, the streets are going to be filled with thousands of rabid XWF fans and millions upon millions tuning in from the confines of their own homes for two simple reasons…. The first, will the historic Tag Title reign of Cataclysm eclipse the longest-reigning documented Tag Team Champions in the history of the XWF, and the second is just who will leave the High Stakes Battle Royale as the new XWF Universal Champion.


It's dusk, the sun is starting to set on a seasonably warm Tombstone day as the set for XWF’s High Stakes is in its finishing touches and final preparations. The ring is lit up, the canvass seemingly settling in before beginning the host of tomorrow night’s violence and brutality that will no doubt unfold. It’s clean as the autumn air yet will leave soak in the blood of the XWF Talent. A total of eight title matches but only one that’s carrying an emotional investment than the Ladder Match pitting the challengers of Thaddeus Duke and The Good Doctor taking on the two-man wrecking machine known as Cataclysm.







Upon the opening of “Riders on the Storm” by the epic poet Jim Morrison we see walking out to the top of the ramp draped in Tag Team Gold is none other than the reigning and defending XWF World Tag Team Champions Chris Page and Robert Main, collectively called Cataclysm. Chris and Robert are each dressed in long black trench coats, black jeans, and black snakeskin cowboy boots. The trench coats sit on top of white dress shirts that are tucked in with black cowboy hats channeling their versions of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday.


The champions have the belts over their right shoulders as they start to make the walk towards the empty ring. For the first time we see four Ladders; one on each side of the ring. The duo reaches ringside where the look up at the top of the Ladder before Page climbs up on the ring apron before stepping through the ropes and into the ring while Robert turns and makes his way up the ring steps to the ring apron before stepping over the top rope and into the ring.


No microphone is needed as the entrance slowly fades away leaving Cataclysm in the ring, becoming one with the environment that is going to house the biggest gunfight since the fight at the O.K. Corral.


” To think we almost didn’t make it.”


It’s been an interesting ride for the tag champions en route to this one event. Nearly getting caught running guns to Robert getting released from jail over a technicality to buy enough time to make this defense. The roads of adventure never cease to amaze. The versatility Cataclysm carries from one team to another from deeper and darker situations to not so deep or dark issues. The off-balancing off just what you’re going to get directly determines how our opponents will combat us.


It’s usually by now a standard attack that even our very challengers tomorrow night are already guilty of themselves; disheartening, yes, but surely you didn’t expect anything less when Thaddeus Duke is In the mix. We didn’t.


” Reminds me of why I got out of the family business and into the wrestling business.”


” Something told me shit was going to go sideways man, and while I’ve had my issues with the law doing fed time isn’t my idea of fun.”


Chris’s idea of fun is doing what he’s been doing to Thaddeus Duke since the young Duke walked into his life and has decided not to leave…. Slapping him around like the chump that he is while further exposing him as the sheer nobody that he has become.


” That’s behind us now. We made the drop, we made the money and now it’s time for us to complete the story by stamping our ticket to being the longest-reigning Tag Champions in the documented history of this company.”


Robert kneels where he runs his fingertips across the smooth surface of the mat cover as he looks out into the near-empty streets of Tombstone, Arizona.


” Tomorrow night thousands of fans are going to congregate in these streets and are going to be privy to the damnedest fight this place has seen since the eighteen hundreds. It’s going to be the night in which all the talk ends and we solidify ourselves as the best of the best yet again.”


Robert stands back up as we see Chris walk towards the ropes.


” Just knowing the screams of pain that will echo throughout these streets, the massacre that is going to unfold in front of a national audience brings a smile to my face.”


Chris walks over to a set of ropes where he reaches out taking ahold of the top rope before closing his eyes. Suddenly the screen flickers before going black and white.



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A roar of boos from the crowd is heard from all sides of the ring as we see Chris Page choking away at Thaddeus Duke with both hands firmly wrapped around his throat back against a neutral corner. Like a boa constrictor, the grip on Thad’s skin tightens, his gasps for air, and the complete look of shock in his eyes as life slips away from him is ever-present.


” They truly have no idea the sand storm they’re about to walk into.


Chris Page laces Thaddeus across the chest with a vile knife-edge shop before he starts to bite Duke across the bridge of the nose.


” An all-out street fight is going to boil over and stain the streets with bloodshed.”



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” It’s going to soak into the sands of these streets and leave a lasting impression.”


Visions of Robert Main laying a stiff boot to the face of The Good Doctor sending Louie to the mat is seen. It’s followed up with a leg drop across the throat. The boos from the crowd continue to ring out from all areas around the ringside area.


” The world is waiting for Doc and I to cross paths and finally answer the unanswered question that infests the minds of the mindless; who is the better man? The answer is painfully obvious, that better man is me.”


Robert Main shoots Doc across the ring towards a neutral corner only to charge in after him delivering a running splash that smashes Doc back against the buckles.


” While you’ve been busy sitting on the sidelines enjoying a beverage and some popcorn like the spectator that you are I’ve been in the ring carrying the weight of this company across my broad shoulders. When you’ve been watching as long as Louie has you don’t just jump back in the ring an expect to be as flawless as you once were; which has been evident with how you’ve elected to handle yourself in the final hours before this confrontation.”


We fade from black and white back into a live shot of Chris and Robert, each man standing center ring with the XWF Tag Titles now hanging high above their heads.


” There are a plethora of things in this equation that establishes that we’re the best; two of the main things are hanging above our heads. When Robert and I took these titles from Shawn Warstein and Noah Jackson we took them under the pretenses of making them mean something more than a set of mid-card titles like our predecessors. Robert and I weren’t content with being lackluster; and we knew when we won them that everyone was laying in weight to use the ill-fated “you’ve done nothing” with their routine. We got ahead of that curve by issuing an open challenge, an open contract for anyone to sign at any time.”


” And we are blamed for the lack of pieces of talent that have a pair of nuts to sign that dotted line, that’s cool because that same tired “what have you done” routine is about as played out as Thad’s nineteenth knee injury. It’s a basic bitch response that even Chris and I thought the two of you would have known better but in all actuality, you’ve taken yourselves from legitimate challengers into the pool that is everyone else.”


” Hanging above our heads is the prize that we’ve dangled like a carrot in front of your face to get you to this point, to get you in this kind of environment where all bets are off. The risks that we’re going to take, the number of times our bodies will be put in harm’s way…”


Closing his eyes the screen takes a shift back into black and white as now Chris Page and Thaddeus Duke are shown standing on a Ladder under the XWF Tag Titles that hand above the ring. Thaddeus drives a right hand to the face of Page that rocks Chris nearly causing him to lose his balance. Chris reaches out gouging Thaddeus in the eyes just as he’s reaching up towards the gold.


” The question then becomes how far are you willing to go?”


Instead of reaching up towards the belts we see Chris take Thaddeus off the Ladder with a Swinging Neck Breaker sending both men to free-falling down to the canvass where they land hard to a thunderous ovation from the standing room only crowd on the streets of Tombstone.


” The way you’ve approached us is as if this is Thad versus Page and Main versus Doc; I question f either of you has what it takes to make the sacrifices it takes to be a team. It’s easy to say someone’s got your back, it’s something completely different for that person to have yours. Neither of you is going to crack the code that is Cataclysm thinking singularly while Robert and I continue to think collectively.”


Robert Main and Chris Page are now shown as Chris Page hoists Doc up for a Powerbomb, he runs towards a neutral corner delivering the buckle bomb into a running enziguri on the ring apron from Robert Main. It flashes into Main delivering an inverted atomic drop to Thaddeus while Page bounces off the ropes delivering a clothesline to Duke completing a Hart Attack.


” Chris and I work on a different level than either of you can begin to comprehend. We have something in spades that neither of you can carry. Reliability.”


We cut back to a live shot of Chris and Robert in the ring where now a Ladder sits under the Tag Titles with the Champions standing on each side of the Ladder itself.


” For the last twelve months he and I have shown up for work, we’ve carried the torch of the Tag Division, we’ve kept it consistent every time we’ve stepped foot inside these ropes and put those titles on the line. Can the same be said for the two of you? How long before your next disappearing act? Doc? Are you sticking around in an attempt to re-live glory days from years past? You going to I don’t know, get recognized as a legendary talent that you crave? How about Thaddeus? Can he make it through a major event without having to go home and lick his wounds while tweeting out how glorious he is? “


” Consistency.”


Robert steps forward and away from the Ladder as he continues.


” You don’t get to shit the bed with your first promo and bounce back with one three times as long and us not take the credit for it. In Thaddeus' case, he realized real quick that being his cookie-cutter self wasn’t going to be enough and his attempt to take this to a “lengthy” battle will prove to fail him just as he’s elected to look past me a majority of this run. Rookie mistakes don’t get you to the championships; it gets you the loser’s share of the purse and further exposes you for not being that heavy hitter or main event player that you want everyone to believe you to be.”


Robert stops, he composes himself for a second before he continues.


” The thoughts of shedding your blood for your shortcomings is enough to forgive you for that indiscretion until I can shed it tomorrow night in person.”


Robert closes his eyes as the scene shifts back to black and white. Robert Main has Thaddeus on the floor, Thaddeus face a crimson mask as Robert gouges at Thaddeus' forehead seemingly ripping his flesh from his bone. Thaddeus screams out in sheer pain before dropping to one knee. Robert wipes Thad’s blood across his bare chest as is wearing it as a badge of honor.


Chris Page is shown on the opposite side of the ring with a camera in hand as he measures Doc.


” Making Lou regret his decision of inserting himself into this affair, further showing him why the Hall of Legends isn’t fitting for someone like him, a guy that tries so hard to sell himself on being a fighter but yet was stupid enough to pick a poser to save.”


Chris shatters the camera across Doc’s face sending him falling to the floor like a ton of bricks. The crowd erupts with loud boos as Chris stands over the good doctor taunting him, screaming for him to get up!


” The difference between good and great rests within one fundamentally simple fact. The greats always push the goods to a different level. Take a look at the young Duke for example; yeah he fucked himself three ways from Sunday with his first outing, but look at the time and energy he put into his second one and tell me that it isn’t because WE pushed him to that.”


Returning to the live shot we see Chris Page step forward beside Robert as he continues.


” We can stand here and make that bold assessment and can mean every word of it… can you say the same thing? Have you pushed us to a higher level?”


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” You haven’t. You’ll tell yourselves that you have but here in the real world where the rest of us live we have led the entire way while collectively, as a team you’ve both trailed us since day one. You’ve mocked us, you’ve mocked our personalities and you made more false claims in four promos than President Trump has over the last four years! But hey, whatever you need to tell yourselves to put yourselves over, am I right?


” You better go ahead and put yourselves over in your spots leading to this confrontation because I know we sure as shit aren’t putting your over tomorrow night.”


” You boys have followed our trail of breadcrumbs to even going into detail over Robert intentionally dropping the Xtreme Title to Reggie Estrada! We said you’d do it, we said you’d look at it as some sort of kink in our armor going into this critical title defense only to look dumb as fuck yet again when the masterplan unraveled another layer.”


” We don’t expect either of you cunt cakes to understand that this was another layer to a much bigger picture, and yes we’re well aware that you will continue to beat it into the ground like a dead horse because when it’s the only piece of ammunition you’ve got and you’re as predictable as you both have become it’s become expected. The only issue rests with how I was challenged… I took Dick’s words to heart and took Doc’s words to heart when they said the only way I’d win the Universal Championship is with a briefcase, I reflected on my initial title win at Leap of Faith just a few short years ago and how I did climb to the top of the mountain with a briefcase leading the way.”


Robert steps towards the camera taking center stage as his glare sends a chill down your spine like a cold winter’s night in the Arizona desert.


” There’s not a whole lot people can throw at me that’s not easily deflected, but that one I can’t seem to shake. Yes, I intentionally dropped the Xtreme Championship for the sole purpose of making my intentions known that I am coming for MY Universal Championship regardless of whom is holding it and I’m doing it without the fallback of a briefcase.”


” And you fucking mutts lapped it all up like a couple of starving stray dogs that were tossed some table scraps.”


” I made you abandon your initial game plan and divert into a narrative that I controlled; like a puppet master you both danced to the tune that I played for you. In this game, you’ve both been so far behind it’s embarrassing to watch you feverishly try to play catch up while Chris and I truck along continuing to show the federation why we are the top two stars not only in the Tag Team Division but in the goddamn company as a whole. “


” Thad’s got too much on his plate, he’s swallowed by the commitments he’s made and now is at a crossroads as to what’s more important, the Tag Titles or the Universal Title? Time isn’t on your side young man, and if you want to be as good as you claim to be you’d be able to juggle this shit AND be ahead of the curve instead of trying to find a clever response for why you’re so far behind the eight balls.”


There’s a pause from Chris before he starts to laugh under his breath. He reaches over thumping Rob on the shoulder with his right hand as he states.


” It’s like Louie’s justification for being a little butt-hurt over my spot in the Hall of Legends versus his spot on the Top 50… Really? Is that the direction we’re going?”



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” Bruh with all the YEARS you’ve spent here versus the collective year and a half I’ve been here since 2005 and you’re NOT on that list of 50 alongside 49 other pieces of talent that gave that same kind of dedication that you gave I’d be pretty pissed off; keep in mind though that list you try to throw in my face as several of Hall of Legends on there, where are you in that Hall? Oh fucking right, you’re still not there. Sorry, not sorry. I’m also not sorry that you are reduced to using a list that hasn’t been updated in three years as a feeble attempt to reduce the hit that I am STILL looked at as a Legend while just looked at as “good”.”


” You didn’t expect him not to try to turn a truth into a lie did you? That’s what he does, it's his deal and while he’s fooled many throughout his career we’re still ahead of that curve and still contemplate why someone like you would stoop to those rookie levels… again. If he thinks that Top 50 list means something take a look at some of the names on that list and tell me they’re not consolation prizes; Michael Graves? Chris Chaos? Robbie Bourbon?”


” You keep that top 50 homie and you’ll find me on the list of 44 that matter; what’s up with that “what have you done?” routine for like the third time in two weeks, and this is from one of the greatest of all time!”



[Image: giphy.gif]


Chris just shakes his head.


” What’s the matter Doc? Running out of things to say that you’re resorting to pulling a Thad?”


” It’s insane to me how people consider this kind of shit as “cutting edge” or “groundbreaking”. Well, since he had to ask again I guess we need to answer… again.”


” Here’s what we’ve done Doc, we’ve beaten everyone booked opposite us, you know kind of what we’re going to do to you and Thaddeus tomorrow night when you can’t hide behind your words and you’re forced to swallow your pride and walk to the ring with a partner that’s in way over his head as he’s shown, and you’re going to have to do what nobody else has been able to do… beat us.”


” And we’ve even given you the advantage by being able to climb a ladder to do it.”


Chris closes his eyes imagining the destruction that is going to be caused to Thaddeus. He envisions Thaddeus on the mat with a Ladder on top of him. Chris runs towards the ropes where he springboards off the middle rope delivering a moonsault on top of the Ladder driving it into the ribs and sternum of Thad Duke.



[Image: giphy.gif]


Cutting back to the live shot Chris has a satisfying smirk on his face as he opens his eyes.


” We’ve catered to your wheelhouse of no rules, anything goes… isn’t that right Lou? Then why aren’t you talking about that instead of constantly repeating yourself with the same dribble you’ve already spoken on. How many times can you look at yourself in the mirror and claim my success was because you weren’t here? Mother fucker you don’t carry that kind of power, it’s a shame that you still think that you do. It’s like you have to reach so far to the most outlandish subject matters to try and tie some sort of relevancy of yourself into it when you don’t play into it at all. Reality is with or without you in the picture I would have still taken my rightful place on top of this federation… and to take it a step further if you still want to question that fact put your name on the dotted line and step into this ring with me one on one and allow me to lend you just a little bit of credibility that you’re seeking.”


” He won’t do that.”


Chris softly states.


” It would mean he’d had to step out of his comfort zone and that’s just not a thing he’s keen on doing. He’s one of those that picks and chooses his times to step in the ring and who he steps into the ring with. He thinks that this is an opportune time to try and stop us from achieving something that we’ve worked towards while he’s been sipping umbrella drinks basking in the glory of years gone past. It’s easy to stand on the sidelines and point the fingers at the guys putting in the work and as he’s learning it’s something completely different to get your ass back in the trenches and fire the shots; again with blanks, but firing shots nonetheless.”


” Just thinking about the pain and suffering we are going to put them through, the imagines of violence that are dancing around in my head….”



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” The various ways we’re going to have at our disposal to inflict our will…”



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” To cement our legacies as the best by beating two that think they’re the best.”



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” Cracking their ribs…”



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Robert opens his eyes as we return the live shot.


” You’ve both played the wrong kind of game; this isolate and hope for the best routine aren’t going to cut it. You’ve both failed to give us the credit we’re due when the proof is right there in the pudding. We’ve told you what you would say…”


” You’ve said it.”


” You’ve done shot the same ammo as Centurion and Ruby…”


” Coincidentally also in the Hall of Legends… where’ is Doctor Lou? Oh yeah, he’s not there.”


” You’ve brought nothing tangible to the table that would remotely be considered threatening to our reign as XWF Tag Team Champions. We are primed and ready to go to war, we’ve carefully laid your path that leads you right here to Tombstone and High Stakes where…”


Robert shifts his gaze up towards the XWF Tag Titles that are hanging high above his head.


” Those belts right there are going to be hanging right there for either of you to try and claim.”


Robert lowers his head as Chris states.


” Then we’re brought back to the one question that will separate failure from success. Is either of you willing to do what needs to be done to ascend the Ladder and take away what you claim we’ve done nothing with? Unlike Doc, you know, the one that brags about a reign that can’t be proven yet tries to come at us about knowing history on the same cycle his partner openly admitted to being a lazy fuck to check up on his history! Doc is treating this like a glorified Fatal Four Way as opposed to a match that he has a partner… even if that partner is Thaddeus.”


” What’s the obsession with our masks? More importantly for a guy that hammers people on the history, you might want to go back and check ours and you’ll find the answer to that question in which you’re seeking… but since you won’t do that we will lob you that answer one last time in the off chance you’re both going to remotely pay any attention at all. Our masks represent the level of violence that’s needed to dispose of you; while you’ve both made a focal point out of it… once again by design… we’ve pretty much told you who you’re dealing with because you’re not worth the Omega or the Beast… they’re not needed to wad you, two chumps, up and throw you away like the pieces of trash you are.”


” We aren’t looking for your approval, we’re not looking for you to like us, we’re not looking for your respect or even your praise… we’re looking for your blood, we’re looking to finally end this delusion where Thaddeus is anything other than a second to Corey Smith or anyone else that will put his name in a brighter light for when his name is in that light by itself that light starts to flicker before dimming out to the darkness that infests his inner thoughts and opens himself up to his inner demons; demons that he didn’t know existed.”


” That’s what we do. We lay the traps and you dumbasses walk right into them all the while thinking that you’re in the driver’s seat. You’ve not isolated us, you’ve not broken us, you’ve BARELY motivated us… but it’s not going to stop us from walking down to this ring tomorrow night on Pay-Per-View to show you both exactly how the fuck we’re going to get down. I have that eager feeling in the pit of the stomach; like waking up on Christmas day as a kid and invading my living room to shred open all my gifts that Santa Parents brought me.”


Validation is going to be the ultimate feeling once we’re through using your bodies to absorb all the pain and destruction we choose to force you to endure. We know how good we are and why these titles are looked at why both of your grubby paws want a piece of them.


” Here’s a question.”


” Shoot.”


” Since we’ve done absolutely nothing with these titles other than defending them and not allow them to become paperweights like the good doctor in the past; why are they trying so hard to attain them? Again, it’s not like teams are going to suddenly flood into the federation to challenge you for them; but it doesn’t negate why Doc craves them so bad.”


” Is that a serious question?”


” Fuck no!”


Chris and Robert share a laugh amongst themselves as they each look up towards the XWF Tag Titles which are lightly swaying with a pickup of wind.


” There’s not going to be a Cinderella story at High Stakes, there’s not going to be a situation where good will triumph over evil. We have a stranglehold on those belts and the only way that either of you is going to get them is if you pry them away from our cold dead hands.”


Chris and Robert lower their heads from the title belts.


” History Thaddeus, history has a way of repeating itself.”



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Chris has produced a pair of handcuffs.


” History shows us you’ve been outsmarted in this exact situation before… and that time I didn’t have my heavy standing by my side to further shift the odds in my favor. While this is about Robert and I staking claim to what is rightfully ours it will also serve a secondary purpose of ending whatever claims that you seem to think you have when it comes to being better than me.”


” The final hours are upon us and we’re in prime position to go ahead and take this one home. Over the last two weeks, the challengers have been one step behind, they’ve not done a damn thing that separates themselves from the challengers of Chris Chaos and Peter Gilmour from many months back, they’ve done nothing but hinge on our words to form a basis of attack that is just flat out embarrassing and subpar at best.”


” The four of us are about to put ourselves in a dangerous situation that can go from bad to worse within the batting of an eyelash.”


” One ladder tip that’s off by just a fraction of an inch could be catastrophic.”


” We welcome the challenge you’ve put up.”


Robert starts to climb the Ladder.


” But the ending of this story will remain a virtual unknown…”


” Until we decide to takes those steps up that Ladder.”


Robert reaches the halfway point on the Ladder as he looks towards the camera.


” Get a good shot, take a nice long look…”


Robert climbs up one more rung on the Ladder.


” Because one way… or the other….”


Robert takes another step up on the Ladder where he shifts his eyes up towards the XWF Tag Team Championship.


” This story ends with Cataclysm STILL standing on top of the Tag Team Division.”


Robert reaches up towards the titles, his rough, callous hands taking ahold of one of the straps where he pulls it free followed by the second strap on the second title.


” A for effort boys… better luck next time.”



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” Don’t shoot the messengers.”



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The scene draws to a close with Robert Main sitting on the Ladder with his Tag Title as he passes Chris’s tag title down to him. Main and Page stand tall as we fade to black.]]> <![CDATA[Ridicule is the first and last argument of a fool.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39009 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 20:23:08 -0800 Robert "The Omega" Main]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39009


:::::Continued From:::::
Defeat is a state of mind.



"Where is your bother, I agreed to meet with him, not the Main that got caught doing this very same thing..."



Oliver leers in Chris's direction when Page steps forward with an explanation...



"Robert's on his way..."



The man pointed his finger in Page's direction... His hair was slicked back, black and a little greasy the sides white as snow on a winter morning... His teeth were uneven when he spoke. He looked about fifty years old, but he was closer to sixty. Nobody knew the man's real name, but in the business, he was in, a name was the last thing he could afford to give. He was known merely as "Vinnie," and he was one of the highest-paid black market deals in the world.



[Image: 9Y9x.gif]



" I didn't ask you did I, you thin-skinned prick..."



Page takes another step forward cracking his knuckles...



" Take a step back kid before you get yourself hurt... Now I'll ask Oliver here again... Where in the fuck is your brother? I won't ask you again..."



" Vinnie, he got caught up... He told Chris and me to get here on time and make the drop... We're here and everything is accounted for... You can take my word for it..."



" Your word for it huh? Your word doesn't mean shit to me... How the hell, do I know this isn't a setup? You did just get out of the joint right? For all, I know as soon as I make a deal the feds will storm this fucking shit hole..."



Page again steps forward.



" Oliver is not rat..."



[Image: SQI.gif]



Vinneis bodyguard stepped forward this time cutting Page off... The bodyguard was the personification of self-confidence, never saw the value of blending in. He figured he'd let his reputation proceed him - the fact and the fiction. His strategy was to become a legend and let that elevate him.



" Kid, I've told you once now, now I'm telling you twice if I have to tell you a third time you'll be drinking through a straw for the rest of your life..."



" I'm not working for the feds, do you think I jeopardize my flesh and blood?"



Vinnie stares Oliver in the eyes stepping forward...



" A rat would sell out his grandmother..."



"Look man do you have the money or not? Chris and I can leave and forget this shit ever happened... I'm fine with that... Robert is the one who pushed this thing on us both..."



" Yeah, we've got the money... But Oliver, if this is a double-cross, I'll have your testicles on a silver fucking platter... I'll show you the money then you can show us the guns... Deal?"



Oliver and Pages nods as the bodyguard opens a metal case filled with one-hundred-dollar bills.



[Image: g1Yg.gif]



"Listen the van is outside, there's another set of plates and registration in the glove box... You hand me the money, Page will hand you the keys... We all go off on our merry little ways..."



" Ah, this is just like the old days huh Oliver..."



Vinnie slaps Oliver on the back as they walk out the door towards the van...



" It's good to know your not a fed kid... But this is a double-cross..."



Oliver pulled his 1911 but quickly realized he was outgunned and surrounded.



[Image: YeyEeP9.jpg]



" Are you fucking kidding me?"



" Nope, now kid go ahead and lower that before you find your brains blown all over this parking lot..."



"You son of a bitch, Robert will kill you for this..."



"Yeah, he'll have to find me first... Now If you'll excuse me, We've got a van full of guns to take..."



Oliver drops his 1911 staring at Page who shrugs.



" Robert's in jail, isn't he?



Oliver nods.



" Yeah he is Chris, he took our place..."











Jail




" Main your lawyer is here to see you... You're lucky as hell assaulting a state highway patrol your not locked away with no key... People like you make me sick..."



[Image: 7jPR.gif]



Robert stood along in the dark, empty, cold, cell staring silently down towards the end of the corridor. The fluorescent lights flickered as the walls screamed out in pain, the lifeless shadowed figures curled up in the corners of their cells, whispering their demented secrets.



" Robert, what in the hell are you out there doing punching cops? Do you know the number of strings I had to pull to get you out of this?"



[Image: PapR.gif]



"Nice to see you too sis... Strings? What strings? How much did it cost me?"



"The judge said he would drop the case if you gave him front row tickets to High Stakes and fifty grand..."



Robert seems shocked...



"Damn he could have asked for more and I would have paid... I assume it's already taken care of right?"



Kayla rolls her eyes.



" Of course I took care of it... I've been cleaning up your messes since we were kids along with Drew and Oliver... Speaking of Oliver he was with you I thought?"



"Yeah he was... He went on without me..."



"To where Robert?"



" Just on a ride..."



" Just on a ride huh? Why did I put that van in Chris Page's name... Something is up... Robert Main, you won't leave this cell unless you tell me what's going on right now..."



Robert steps away from the cell door.



" Do you really want to know? I stepped away so you couldn't grab me..."



"Tell me now Robert, or I'm out of here and you can miss you pay per view..."



" Oliver and I are back in the family business..."



Kayla grabs the cell furious.



" Are you fucking kidding me right now he just got out... You are lucky this cell door is between us or I'd kill you... What are you thinking Robert? Oh, wait you are not thinking... Just like always. You just do things and everyone else suffers the repercussions... I can't believe you... Does Dad know?"



Robert shakes his head.



"Thank god... Oliver is calling... Hey, Oliver is everything alright... Okay... Alright... Wait a second... Slow down... Yeah, I'm here with Robert... You know where we are... Okay, I'll tell him... Oliver said Vinnie double-crossed him and Page taking the guns and the money... Robert, what's going on?"



Robert steps forward laughing...



"All a part of the plan Sis... Vinnie took the bait, the dumb son of a bitch took the guns and money as I figured... Little does he know there is a tracker on the van and in the box of AK 47's... Now we go find him take our money, take our guns, his guns and everything else he has to offer..."



" So what's next?"



"Get ahold of pops..."



Okay, but I want in too..."




















[Image: prpyl4t.png]




” Well Goddamn bro, you dropped the Xtreme Title Reggie-fucking-Estrada and nearly broke the internet…”[/i]



[Image: ceb208de6ffeb1027b3f5a056805734f18fe1d5f...270_00.gif]



Chris’s voice opens the scene as Robert and Chris are shown in an old saloon within the city limits of Tombstone, Arizona where we find the XWF World Tag Team Champions sitting at one of the bars. Chris is laughing at Robert.


[green]” Reggie…. Estrada. Jesus Christ man... Of all people in the world Reggie? You're going to be the laughing stock of the XWF...”


You would think that Robert would be upset or at the least just a little angry after a sudden loss of his secondary championship… But he starts laughing along with Page .


” Goddamn we’re good.”


Chris holds up a full shot glass followed by Robert.


” To Cataclysm.”


” To Cataclysm.”


They cheers and throwback their respective shots.


” Everyone assumes that kicking out just after the count was an accident, and suddenly that becomes a focal point for young Thaddeus and the Good Doctor only to see it blow up in their faces when they find out what we already know… Fellas you just can't seem to get it... That pin, that shit was intentional. Does anyone out there really believe for a second that I would ever just get "pinned" by Reggie... Fuck no there is a plan behind everything that we do over here... We play chess, you fuck wads play checkers... But hey nice try, go after the only thing you thought you could get us on...”


” I can’t say that I was completely shocked when this scheme came to your mind; but I get it too, people have always questioned you and this is going to be the only way to silence them.”


There’s a sly smirk on Robert’s face as he clears his throat.


” You know this whole thing started with Dick Powers and Doc saying I needed a briefcase tp win the Universal Title... Everying rewound back to 2018 Leap Of Faith when I won my first case... In a moment that I believed would be one of my finest, turned out t be a nightmare int he end... And since I do love shutting the mouths of all my critics to stroke my massive ego... I thought to myself what a better way than to drop the one thing that would validate that claim on the final defense... So, I did just that, I dropped the headache that was the X-title... Now I want everyone to hear this... Watch what happens to that division without me in it, it's going to crash and burn... That title is going to become a game of hot potato... Or Cory Smith will get it... See ladies I needed to make a point and what better wat to make that point then have a guy that hasn’t been around in six months. Or wrestled on a card since I ground him into paste winning the title... I did to the Xtreme Title exactly what the XWF did to me when I held the Universal Title…. I built it up and then shit all over it. The fact is I don’t need a briefcase to ascend to the mountain top, never did and I never will.”


Robert motions to the bartender for two more shots.


” And I think it’s fairly safe to say that if I ask for something I’m pretty sure I’m going to get it… Not because I'm begging for golden opportunities like Thad... No, because I have earned that right... The right to ask for whatever I damn well please and I'll get it..”


Chris chimes in cutting Robert off with sarcasm within his tone.



” Do it.”



Robert’s smirk reappears as he nods his head in approval as he responds.



” Oh I’m about too…”



The bartender pours Page and Main two more shots of bourbon before walking away.


” I am going to officially challenge the Universal Champion on the next addition of Warfare. Whoever that may or may not be... Your ass is mine...”



[Image: 9JL.gif]




” I think everyone but me just shit their pants.”



” As well they should because the business has just picked up and daddy is coming back for his gold. The gold that was stolen from me over a year ago...”


” Well, now that begs the question what’s that mean for me if and WHEN I leave High Stakes with that Universal Title around my waist? It means going to Warfare and slapping around Chris Chaos to getting him out of the way, like the sorry sack of shit that he is... Then it means looking Robert Main in the eyes and ACCEPTING his challenge like a man... Stepping up and capping off what ALL of you have been waiting for... The trilogy you’ve all wanted since the day we started running rough shot over this entire federation…Chris Page versus Robert Main… one on one. That ladies and gentlemen sells tickets, that puts asses in seats... Just the two of us on the marquess alone, we sell out the entire arena...”


” Isn’t that what you all want? Isn’t that what you all thought you were doing when you were all trying to drive a wedge between us... You all wanted us to fight one another and here we are openly admitting that we will if the grandest prize in the land is on the line... The brass ring is the only thing that will get Cataclysm to battle one another... After it's over, whoever wins, wins... The brotherhood continues along with he dominance...”


” The cat has already come out of that bag and all the dissention you all thought was within the ranks of Cataclysm has lead you down the wrong path. One more time... See, we're pretty good at setting all you morons up with he slid of hand, the good ole bait and switch... I mean, I deserve a goddamn Oscar for that fucking performance I've put on over the past few weeks... I had everyone eating out of the palm of my hand in the battle royal as they thought this was about stepping out of your shadow… They never realized my shadow was right there beside yours the entire time. We are the master manipulators that have led you all astray and individually to slaughter like sheep.”


” All it took was B.o.B planting the seeds of doubt on Savage and our imagination started to run wild... And once again we have the wrestling world thinking we would be walking into the only title defense that mattered at High Stakes and not be on the same page… Are you kidding me right now? It just goes to show how gullible not only the fans are but the fickle boys and girls that reside in the locker room. Losing the Xtreme Title days before High Stakes came into the cards last week; premeditation is a bitch regardless of how you chumps want to try and spin it. It had to happen...


” Rob and I remain one hundred percent committed to our goal of continuing to dominate whoever opts to stand in front of us... While guys like Thaddeus and Doc are continuing to play defense, we’ve done nothing but be on the offensive the entire time. We set the fucking pace, we dropped our bombs first... They've been dogs chasing cars the entire time... All eyes are locked on this ONE title defense because everyone assumes and have bought into the hype of ONE person when they fail to realize this is a TEAM event. Let's say it together folks... Tag Team match... You see Robert and me together every single promo collaborating as a unit... Now, we don’t have to stand in front of anyone and try to convince them of our greatness… We've done that for months putting in the work these two cowards refused too...”



Robert kicks his head towards the camera leaning in.



” Doc, Thad this is a TAG TEAM MATCH...”



” We do what we want, when we want and to whom we want without and real repercussions because there’s nobody here on this roster that can step to us let alone take us to deep waters…



[Image: giphy.gif]




” Most of you legitimately think that Doc has the power to carry the dead weight that is Thaddeus Duke to victory; that's simply not true, but we do love how the talk of the locker room is how this is going to be epic, it’s going to be bigger than anything we’ve seen all year... This right here is going to be the match of the night, match of the year... The collision course between Robert Main and Doctor Louie is going to somehow even that un-level playing field that so many of you have already stepped on… But what happens when Robert and I do exactly what we say we’re going to do one more time? What will there be to say when the dust settles? Where will the shots come from then?”


” With the Xtreme Title out of the picture; it allows me to give my undivided attention to ending you Doc. Putting you six feet under where you belong... Out of the way and forgotten forever...”


” A little nugget that gets overlooked by the masses but something we’ve kept in our back pockets just for this one moment in time to play. It’s no secret that we’ve owned the Tag Division since our first tag match a year ago against Shane and Tristan Slater, it became a fact at March Madness when we embarrassed The Sick Cunts and gave them a thrashing that sent Noah packing. We did that without carrying the Xtreme or the TV Title divisions. For three-quarters of what WILL become the longest-reigning run of all time Robert and I have had to split our attention; at least one of us did that correctly, my point is that even with other titles being defended and despite double bookings we’ve kept our stranglehold on the Tag Titles…. Just think about what we’re going to do with the time we have remaining while dealing with young Thaddeus and that hack Lou.”


” These God Damn titles are what's important, we brought a division that was on life support back from the dead... I think what my partner is trying to say is that while we’ve owned you even with my focus being split you’re both now officially fucked for no other reason than I have nothing but time on my hands to continue to hammer nails into each of your coffins.”



Robert lights up a Cuban.



[Image: R8jh1A3.gif?noredirect]




” Even with people losing the concept of a Tag Team and choosing to look at this from the perspective of the singles match; they naturally size you and me up Doc and then it’s Chris and Thaddeus. In your case, you’re so desperate to remind people of who you once were that you’ve lost sight of who you are now. You’re so desperate to save some legacy nobody other than yourself remotely cares about... You've reduced yourself into riding along with goddamn Duke; and not even the good one. People are clamoring over you and I sharing the ring that the feud between Chris and Thad that’s gotten you both this far has seemingly become a distant memory; congratulations Doc, you upstaged your own partner’s work just to stroke that fucking ego. That's the King I remember from so long ago... Always willing to undercut a partner to make himself appear better than he is...”


Robert takes a puff on his Cuban while signaling for another round.


” Something that you’ll never be able to change is that while you might have once been good, Lou, you’ll never be Robert Main good; and with Robert smacking you around this comes down to you and I…. Doesn’t it Thad? And we all know how that story plays out. I’ve had you nailed dead to rights since day one and the only thing that’s saved you from being able to amount any excuse for your failures rests within the stipulations that have protected you. Robert pointed out in a previous piece of work how you love to use excuses; like for example, handcuffing you to the top rope…”


The bartender is shown pouring the Tag Champions another shot before exiting the screen


” I call it outsmarting you…. You call it beating yourself. It’s not my fault that you gave too many fucks about Michael Graves getting involved that you took your eye off the ball like a fucking rookie and I seized the advantage. You got outsmarted, plain and simple… but hey then I claim you kissed me because you couldn’t beat me only to hear you turn around AFTER and say I got disqualified because I couldn’t beat you. I hate to break it to you Thad, but when you try and flip something after it’s been said it does nothing but make you look weaker than you already are.”


” He does do a pretty good job of making himself look emasculated all on his own.”


” Tell us all something we don’t know.”


” He comes off as whiney bitch?”


” Again, something we don’t know.”


” He’ll come down with some sort of injury and not wrestle until the next Pay-Per-View while professing he’s earned a Universal Title shot? That ones it..."


” Dude do you not know how this works, you’re supposed to tee me up with something we haven’t already covered or else we will sound more and more like them; because ya know, that’s what they do.”


” Sorry it's Duke... The only bomb he's dropped is his shit career...”


Chris shakes his head as Robert takes another puff off his cigar.


” Like I was saying, this comes down to Thaddeus versus Page then we all know how this is ending and it ends with Cataclysms retaining the most coveted titles in the federation today. You can continue to run around professing to be the coolest thing since sliced bread but even the lowest of intelligence can see just how far you’re overcompensating. It’s like you can care less about being obvious about it because deep down inside you know that you’ll never step out of the shadow of Sebastian. You’re not even one hundred percent focused on us let alone proving that you’re worth the time or energy you’ve already been given. If Doc wasn’t carrying you this would be a bigger runaway than it’s already become and you wouldn’t have anyone but yourself to blame for it. Guy’s like you have to run around kissing the asses of anyone that will lend you credibility… and then the bell rings or you open your mouth and let your ass fall out of it.”


” Just in case you seem to feel otherwise let’s see if you’re as predictable as we claim. Did you spend most of your time trying to deflect the hard truths we tossed in your face... Didn't you?”


” Yep.”


Chris and Robert throw back their shots.


” I would go into greater detail but this game of ping pong is running its course. At this point, Thad’s already been exposed and anything that’s said has already lost its punch because it’s only the ninth time he’s tried to spin it. This is what we’ve been reduced too, downright shameful.”


” At least he’s trying, give the kid a bit of credit. He's about to run into the buzzsaw...”


” But dude there’s still no excuse for stupidity or the lack of knowledge or ability to level his claims of being that Main Event talent that he wants to be taken as; but for the life of me I can’t look at Thaddeus with a straight face knowing how full of shit he is.”


” This is the opportunity to end it once and for all, will establish yet again that Cataclysm is the be all end all that we claim to be. We understand we live under a microscope with everyone looking for a minor mistake to blow out of proportion and hang their hats on it like they’ve done something worth a shit... We understand that as bad as we want to keep these straps Thaddeus and Doc want to take them just as bad... But something they’re fooling themselves with rests with a hypothetical; now, Lou made a point to call out how we’ve done nothing with these titles…”


” As if the contenders are going to come crawling out of the woodwork… Talk about a lame-duck for an agreement.”


” It’s just one of those things Chris, they've hit the same subject matters everyone else has countless times now... Trying to point those fingers back at us like we’re the ones that have done something wrong... Like asking for something I haven’t earned. Did you hear the deflection on that one? Didn’t see that one coming a mile away but that doesn’t change the fact that winning four matches in six months doesn’t qualify you to step past me in that line of deserving challengers. Yet, it’s funny the arguments he chooses to defend versus the ones that he doesn’t. Talk about a pussy.”


” Oh Robert, that’s his game bro. He does this in an attempt to pacify his fan base yet again doesn’t have the mental capacity to fathom that it doesn’t change the facts; he’s a poser, he’s a bitch, he’s not a Main event player and the fact he took to Twitter to try and have some sort of verbal joust for free and regurgitating it into long-form only solidifies it. The good news is we’re just about done with having to have these little back and forth banters for tomorrow night all bets are off and while it’s established we not only talk the talk but walk that walk it’s time to see if Thaddeus is great as he wants us all to believe he is.”


” They’ve run the gambit of the stereotypical dribble and it’s fallen on deaf ears. We picked this fight and now as the final hours draw near it’s time for us to put this one away verbally before taking it home physically under the stars of Tombstone, Arizona. Think about how much both Thad and Doc have relied on us to lead the way as the true trailblazers that we are... Hell, without us feeding them their lines they would be just a cunt hair better than Salt and Pepper…”


” NO!”


” Oh yeah, I said it. If either of them is worth anything like they’ve claimed to be how come they haven’t been firing first shots? Why wait to see what we’re going to do before putting any effort up? Why did it take us hand-delivering a verbal ass raping for Thaddeus to suddenly give a shit? We didn’t have to wait for either one of you to speak before lashing out loudly...Especially to the degree that you’re both still laying back against the ropes while we are patiently waiting for anything worth the tissue we wipe our asses with.”


Robert takes another draw off his cigar before placing it in the ashtray.


” I’ll tell you what I’ve learned about Doc throughout this ordeal. I’ve learned why he hasn’t been tapped into that sacred hall in which he so craves. The people that are in this Hall are people who are natural-born leaders and not a guy that has to double-dip on a closing day.”


Chris slowly turns his head towards Robert drawing an immediate middle finger from his partner. Chris winks at him before turning back towards the camera.


” A beacon of change is what our opponents are striving to be… bring it… you’re not going to see the two of us flinch. If something was so important, if saving a division was detrimental as Louie wants us to believe; I mean it is a driving force that brought him back you know…”


Robert slams his fist on the bar while lashing out.


” ENOUGH!”


The entire bar goes so quiet you can hear a mouse piss on a cotton ball. Chris leans over softly asking his partner.


” Was it something I said?”


” I’m through pretending that I’m not completely and totally disrespected! First, of all Louie, any momentum you had going for yourself you’ve killed it by trying to play this cat and mouse game that we’re already hip too. I’m not going to pretend that he’s in my fucking league. Lazy doesn’t cut it and that’s the word that describes the good doctor to a fucking tee. Both of these shitstains are walking contradictions and don’t deserve to be in the same ring as us, they’re an embarrassment to this profession and are latching on to our backs to garner some notoriety. Relevance that they could never get on their own so the two dickless wonders combine their efforts and come after the hottest Tag Team walking on this planet... Hoping to gain just an ounce of credibility... High Stakes needs to come and go so we can move on to other things.”


” Calm the fuck down and save it for the ring brother because anyone can run their mouths and cut lengthy promos, and while Thad’s second nearly put me to sleep at least he isn’t playing second fiddle to my session’s albeit too little too late. He’s Chris Chaosed his way into the history books as a follower. It’s just a shame that in just a few short hours this will all come crashing down and their mounds of excuses will begin.”











"Robert, Oliver what happened witht he guns?"



"Exactly what you said would happen pop..."



"So, now what?"



"Simple answer boys... We go get what's ours!"



[Image: 3YSe.gif]
]]>


:::::Continued From:::::
Defeat is a state of mind.



"Where is your bother, I agreed to meet with him, not the Main that got caught doing this very same thing..."



Oliver leers in Chris's direction when Page steps forward with an explanation...



"Robert's on his way..."



The man pointed his finger in Page's direction... His hair was slicked back, black and a little greasy the sides white as snow on a winter morning... His teeth were uneven when he spoke. He looked about fifty years old, but he was closer to sixty. Nobody knew the man's real name, but in the business, he was in, a name was the last thing he could afford to give. He was known merely as "Vinnie," and he was one of the highest-paid black market deals in the world.



[Image: 9Y9x.gif]



" I didn't ask you did I, you thin-skinned prick..."



Page takes another step forward cracking his knuckles...



" Take a step back kid before you get yourself hurt... Now I'll ask Oliver here again... Where in the fuck is your brother? I won't ask you again..."



" Vinnie, he got caught up... He told Chris and me to get here on time and make the drop... We're here and everything is accounted for... You can take my word for it..."



" Your word for it huh? Your word doesn't mean shit to me... How the hell, do I know this isn't a setup? You did just get out of the joint right? For all, I know as soon as I make a deal the feds will storm this fucking shit hole..."



Page again steps forward.



" Oliver is not rat..."



[Image: SQI.gif]



Vinneis bodyguard stepped forward this time cutting Page off... The bodyguard was the personification of self-confidence, never saw the value of blending in. He figured he'd let his reputation proceed him - the fact and the fiction. His strategy was to become a legend and let that elevate him.



" Kid, I've told you once now, now I'm telling you twice if I have to tell you a third time you'll be drinking through a straw for the rest of your life..."



" I'm not working for the feds, do you think I jeopardize my flesh and blood?"



Vinnie stares Oliver in the eyes stepping forward...



" A rat would sell out his grandmother..."



"Look man do you have the money or not? Chris and I can leave and forget this shit ever happened... I'm fine with that... Robert is the one who pushed this thing on us both..."



" Yeah, we've got the money... But Oliver, if this is a double-cross, I'll have your testicles on a silver fucking platter... I'll show you the money then you can show us the guns... Deal?"



Oliver and Pages nods as the bodyguard opens a metal case filled with one-hundred-dollar bills.



[Image: g1Yg.gif]



"Listen the van is outside, there's another set of plates and registration in the glove box... You hand me the money, Page will hand you the keys... We all go off on our merry little ways..."



" Ah, this is just like the old days huh Oliver..."



Vinnie slaps Oliver on the back as they walk out the door towards the van...



" It's good to know your not a fed kid... But this is a double-cross..."



Oliver pulled his 1911 but quickly realized he was outgunned and surrounded.



[Image: YeyEeP9.jpg]



" Are you fucking kidding me?"



" Nope, now kid go ahead and lower that before you find your brains blown all over this parking lot..."



"You son of a bitch, Robert will kill you for this..."



"Yeah, he'll have to find me first... Now If you'll excuse me, We've got a van full of guns to take..."



Oliver drops his 1911 staring at Page who shrugs.



" Robert's in jail, isn't he?



Oliver nods.



" Yeah he is Chris, he took our place..."











Jail




" Main your lawyer is here to see you... You're lucky as hell assaulting a state highway patrol your not locked away with no key... People like you make me sick..."



[Image: 7jPR.gif]



Robert stood along in the dark, empty, cold, cell staring silently down towards the end of the corridor. The fluorescent lights flickered as the walls screamed out in pain, the lifeless shadowed figures curled up in the corners of their cells, whispering their demented secrets.



" Robert, what in the hell are you out there doing punching cops? Do you know the number of strings I had to pull to get you out of this?"



[Image: PapR.gif]



"Nice to see you too sis... Strings? What strings? How much did it cost me?"



"The judge said he would drop the case if you gave him front row tickets to High Stakes and fifty grand..."



Robert seems shocked...



"Damn he could have asked for more and I would have paid... I assume it's already taken care of right?"



Kayla rolls her eyes.



" Of course I took care of it... I've been cleaning up your messes since we were kids along with Drew and Oliver... Speaking of Oliver he was with you I thought?"



"Yeah he was... He went on without me..."



"To where Robert?"



" Just on a ride..."



" Just on a ride huh? Why did I put that van in Chris Page's name... Something is up... Robert Main, you won't leave this cell unless you tell me what's going on right now..."



Robert steps away from the cell door.



" Do you really want to know? I stepped away so you couldn't grab me..."



"Tell me now Robert, or I'm out of here and you can miss you pay per view..."



" Oliver and I are back in the family business..."



Kayla grabs the cell furious.



" Are you fucking kidding me right now he just got out... You are lucky this cell door is between us or I'd kill you... What are you thinking Robert? Oh, wait you are not thinking... Just like always. You just do things and everyone else suffers the repercussions... I can't believe you... Does Dad know?"



Robert shakes his head.



"Thank god... Oliver is calling... Hey, Oliver is everything alright... Okay... Alright... Wait a second... Slow down... Yeah, I'm here with Robert... You know where we are... Okay, I'll tell him... Oliver said Vinnie double-crossed him and Page taking the guns and the money... Robert, what's going on?"



Robert steps forward laughing...



"All a part of the plan Sis... Vinnie took the bait, the dumb son of a bitch took the guns and money as I figured... Little does he know there is a tracker on the van and in the box of AK 47's... Now we go find him take our money, take our guns, his guns and everything else he has to offer..."



" So what's next?"



"Get ahold of pops..."



Okay, but I want in too..."




















[Image: prpyl4t.png]




” Well Goddamn bro, you dropped the Xtreme Title Reggie-fucking-Estrada and nearly broke the internet…”[/i]



[Image: ceb208de6ffeb1027b3f5a056805734f18fe1d5f...270_00.gif]



Chris’s voice opens the scene as Robert and Chris are shown in an old saloon within the city limits of Tombstone, Arizona where we find the XWF World Tag Team Champions sitting at one of the bars. Chris is laughing at Robert.


[green]” Reggie…. Estrada. Jesus Christ man... Of all people in the world Reggie? You're going to be the laughing stock of the XWF...”


You would think that Robert would be upset or at the least just a little angry after a sudden loss of his secondary championship… But he starts laughing along with Page .


” Goddamn we’re good.”


Chris holds up a full shot glass followed by Robert.


” To Cataclysm.”


” To Cataclysm.”


They cheers and throwback their respective shots.


” Everyone assumes that kicking out just after the count was an accident, and suddenly that becomes a focal point for young Thaddeus and the Good Doctor only to see it blow up in their faces when they find out what we already know… Fellas you just can't seem to get it... That pin, that shit was intentional. Does anyone out there really believe for a second that I would ever just get "pinned" by Reggie... Fuck no there is a plan behind everything that we do over here... We play chess, you fuck wads play checkers... But hey nice try, go after the only thing you thought you could get us on...”


” I can’t say that I was completely shocked when this scheme came to your mind; but I get it too, people have always questioned you and this is going to be the only way to silence them.”


There’s a sly smirk on Robert’s face as he clears his throat.


” You know this whole thing started with Dick Powers and Doc saying I needed a briefcase tp win the Universal Title... Everying rewound back to 2018 Leap Of Faith when I won my first case... In a moment that I believed would be one of my finest, turned out t be a nightmare int he end... And since I do love shutting the mouths of all my critics to stroke my massive ego... I thought to myself what a better way than to drop the one thing that would validate that claim on the final defense... So, I did just that, I dropped the headache that was the X-title... Now I want everyone to hear this... Watch what happens to that division without me in it, it's going to crash and burn... That title is going to become a game of hot potato... Or Cory Smith will get it... See ladies I needed to make a point and what better wat to make that point then have a guy that hasn’t been around in six months. Or wrestled on a card since I ground him into paste winning the title... I did to the Xtreme Title exactly what the XWF did to me when I held the Universal Title…. I built it up and then shit all over it. The fact is I don’t need a briefcase to ascend to the mountain top, never did and I never will.”


Robert motions to the bartender for two more shots.


” And I think it’s fairly safe to say that if I ask for something I’m pretty sure I’m going to get it… Not because I'm begging for golden opportunities like Thad... No, because I have earned that right... The right to ask for whatever I damn well please and I'll get it..”


Chris chimes in cutting Robert off with sarcasm within his tone.



” Do it.”



Robert’s smirk reappears as he nods his head in approval as he responds.



” Oh I’m about too…”



The bartender pours Page and Main two more shots of bourbon before walking away.


” I am going to officially challenge the Universal Champion on the next addition of Warfare. Whoever that may or may not be... Your ass is mine...”



[Image: 9JL.gif]




” I think everyone but me just shit their pants.”



” As well they should because the business has just picked up and daddy is coming back for his gold. The gold that was stolen from me over a year ago...”


” Well, now that begs the question what’s that mean for me if and WHEN I leave High Stakes with that Universal Title around my waist? It means going to Warfare and slapping around Chris Chaos to getting him out of the way, like the sorry sack of shit that he is... Then it means looking Robert Main in the eyes and ACCEPTING his challenge like a man... Stepping up and capping off what ALL of you have been waiting for... The trilogy you’ve all wanted since the day we started running rough shot over this entire federation…Chris Page versus Robert Main… one on one. That ladies and gentlemen sells tickets, that puts asses in seats... Just the two of us on the marquess alone, we sell out the entire arena...”


” Isn’t that what you all want? Isn’t that what you all thought you were doing when you were all trying to drive a wedge between us... You all wanted us to fight one another and here we are openly admitting that we will if the grandest prize in the land is on the line... The brass ring is the only thing that will get Cataclysm to battle one another... After it's over, whoever wins, wins... The brotherhood continues along with he dominance...”


” The cat has already come out of that bag and all the dissention you all thought was within the ranks of Cataclysm has lead you down the wrong path. One more time... See, we're pretty good at setting all you morons up with he slid of hand, the good ole bait and switch... I mean, I deserve a goddamn Oscar for that fucking performance I've put on over the past few weeks... I had everyone eating out of the palm of my hand in the battle royal as they thought this was about stepping out of your shadow… They never realized my shadow was right there beside yours the entire time. We are the master manipulators that have led you all astray and individually to slaughter like sheep.”


” All it took was B.o.B planting the seeds of doubt on Savage and our imagination started to run wild... And once again we have the wrestling world thinking we would be walking into the only title defense that mattered at High Stakes and not be on the same page… Are you kidding me right now? It just goes to show how gullible not only the fans are but the fickle boys and girls that reside in the locker room. Losing the Xtreme Title days before High Stakes came into the cards last week; premeditation is a bitch regardless of how you chumps want to try and spin it. It had to happen...


” Rob and I remain one hundred percent committed to our goal of continuing to dominate whoever opts to stand in front of us... While guys like Thaddeus and Doc are continuing to play defense, we’ve done nothing but be on the offensive the entire time. We set the fucking pace, we dropped our bombs first... They've been dogs chasing cars the entire time... All eyes are locked on this ONE title defense because everyone assumes and have bought into the hype of ONE person when they fail to realize this is a TEAM event. Let's say it together folks... Tag Team match... You see Robert and me together every single promo collaborating as a unit... Now, we don’t have to stand in front of anyone and try to convince them of our greatness… We've done that for months putting in the work these two cowards refused too...”



Robert kicks his head towards the camera leaning in.



” Doc, Thad this is a TAG TEAM MATCH...”



” We do what we want, when we want and to whom we want without and real repercussions because there’s nobody here on this roster that can step to us let alone take us to deep waters…



[Image: giphy.gif]




” Most of you legitimately think that Doc has the power to carry the dead weight that is Thaddeus Duke to victory; that's simply not true, but we do love how the talk of the locker room is how this is going to be epic, it’s going to be bigger than anything we’ve seen all year... This right here is going to be the match of the night, match of the year... The collision course between Robert Main and Doctor Louie is going to somehow even that un-level playing field that so many of you have already stepped on… But what happens when Robert and I do exactly what we say we’re going to do one more time? What will there be to say when the dust settles? Where will the shots come from then?”


” With the Xtreme Title out of the picture; it allows me to give my undivided attention to ending you Doc. Putting you six feet under where you belong... Out of the way and forgotten forever...”


” A little nugget that gets overlooked by the masses but something we’ve kept in our back pockets just for this one moment in time to play. It’s no secret that we’ve owned the Tag Division since our first tag match a year ago against Shane and Tristan Slater, it became a fact at March Madness when we embarrassed The Sick Cunts and gave them a thrashing that sent Noah packing. We did that without carrying the Xtreme or the TV Title divisions. For three-quarters of what WILL become the longest-reigning run of all time Robert and I have had to split our attention; at least one of us did that correctly, my point is that even with other titles being defended and despite double bookings we’ve kept our stranglehold on the Tag Titles…. Just think about what we’re going to do with the time we have remaining while dealing with young Thaddeus and that hack Lou.”


” These God Damn titles are what's important, we brought a division that was on life support back from the dead... I think what my partner is trying to say is that while we’ve owned you even with my focus being split you’re both now officially fucked for no other reason than I have nothing but time on my hands to continue to hammer nails into each of your coffins.”



Robert lights up a Cuban.



[Image: R8jh1A3.gif?noredirect]




” Even with people losing the concept of a Tag Team and choosing to look at this from the perspective of the singles match; they naturally size you and me up Doc and then it’s Chris and Thaddeus. In your case, you’re so desperate to remind people of who you once were that you’ve lost sight of who you are now. You’re so desperate to save some legacy nobody other than yourself remotely cares about... You've reduced yourself into riding along with goddamn Duke; and not even the good one. People are clamoring over you and I sharing the ring that the feud between Chris and Thad that’s gotten you both this far has seemingly become a distant memory; congratulations Doc, you upstaged your own partner’s work just to stroke that fucking ego. That's the King I remember from so long ago... Always willing to undercut a partner to make himself appear better than he is...”


Robert takes a puff on his Cuban while signaling for another round.


” Something that you’ll never be able to change is that while you might have once been good, Lou, you’ll never be Robert Main good; and with Robert smacking you around this comes down to you and I…. Doesn’t it Thad? And we all know how that story plays out. I’ve had you nailed dead to rights since day one and the only thing that’s saved you from being able to amount any excuse for your failures rests within the stipulations that have protected you. Robert pointed out in a previous piece of work how you love to use excuses; like for example, handcuffing you to the top rope…”


The bartender is shown pouring the Tag Champions another shot before exiting the screen


” I call it outsmarting you…. You call it beating yourself. It’s not my fault that you gave too many fucks about Michael Graves getting involved that you took your eye off the ball like a fucking rookie and I seized the advantage. You got outsmarted, plain and simple… but hey then I claim you kissed me because you couldn’t beat me only to hear you turn around AFTER and say I got disqualified because I couldn’t beat you. I hate to break it to you Thad, but when you try and flip something after it’s been said it does nothing but make you look weaker than you already are.”


” He does do a pretty good job of making himself look emasculated all on his own.”


” Tell us all something we don’t know.”


” He comes off as whiney bitch?”


” Again, something we don’t know.”


” He’ll come down with some sort of injury and not wrestle until the next Pay-Per-View while professing he’s earned a Universal Title shot? That ones it..."


” Dude do you not know how this works, you’re supposed to tee me up with something we haven’t already covered or else we will sound more and more like them; because ya know, that’s what they do.”


” Sorry it's Duke... The only bomb he's dropped is his shit career...”


Chris shakes his head as Robert takes another puff off his cigar.


” Like I was saying, this comes down to Thaddeus versus Page then we all know how this is ending and it ends with Cataclysms retaining the most coveted titles in the federation today. You can continue to run around professing to be the coolest thing since sliced bread but even the lowest of intelligence can see just how far you’re overcompensating. It’s like you can care less about being obvious about it because deep down inside you know that you’ll never step out of the shadow of Sebastian. You’re not even one hundred percent focused on us let alone proving that you’re worth the time or energy you’ve already been given. If Doc wasn’t carrying you this would be a bigger runaway than it’s already become and you wouldn’t have anyone but yourself to blame for it. Guy’s like you have to run around kissing the asses of anyone that will lend you credibility… and then the bell rings or you open your mouth and let your ass fall out of it.”


” Just in case you seem to feel otherwise let’s see if you’re as predictable as we claim. Did you spend most of your time trying to deflect the hard truths we tossed in your face... Didn't you?”


” Yep.”


Chris and Robert throw back their shots.


” I would go into greater detail but this game of ping pong is running its course. At this point, Thad’s already been exposed and anything that’s said has already lost its punch because it’s only the ninth time he’s tried to spin it. This is what we’ve been reduced too, downright shameful.”


” At least he’s trying, give the kid a bit of credit. He's about to run into the buzzsaw...”


” But dude there’s still no excuse for stupidity or the lack of knowledge or ability to level his claims of being that Main Event talent that he wants to be taken as; but for the life of me I can’t look at Thaddeus with a straight face knowing how full of shit he is.”


” This is the opportunity to end it once and for all, will establish yet again that Cataclysm is the be all end all that we claim to be. We understand we live under a microscope with everyone looking for a minor mistake to blow out of proportion and hang their hats on it like they’ve done something worth a shit... We understand that as bad as we want to keep these straps Thaddeus and Doc want to take them just as bad... But something they’re fooling themselves with rests with a hypothetical; now, Lou made a point to call out how we’ve done nothing with these titles…”


” As if the contenders are going to come crawling out of the woodwork… Talk about a lame-duck for an agreement.”


” It’s just one of those things Chris, they've hit the same subject matters everyone else has countless times now... Trying to point those fingers back at us like we’re the ones that have done something wrong... Like asking for something I haven’t earned. Did you hear the deflection on that one? Didn’t see that one coming a mile away but that doesn’t change the fact that winning four matches in six months doesn’t qualify you to step past me in that line of deserving challengers. Yet, it’s funny the arguments he chooses to defend versus the ones that he doesn’t. Talk about a pussy.”


” Oh Robert, that’s his game bro. He does this in an attempt to pacify his fan base yet again doesn’t have the mental capacity to fathom that it doesn’t change the facts; he’s a poser, he’s a bitch, he’s not a Main event player and the fact he took to Twitter to try and have some sort of verbal joust for free and regurgitating it into long-form only solidifies it. The good news is we’re just about done with having to have these little back and forth banters for tomorrow night all bets are off and while it’s established we not only talk the talk but walk that walk it’s time to see if Thaddeus is great as he wants us all to believe he is.”


” They’ve run the gambit of the stereotypical dribble and it’s fallen on deaf ears. We picked this fight and now as the final hours draw near it’s time for us to put this one away verbally before taking it home physically under the stars of Tombstone, Arizona. Think about how much both Thad and Doc have relied on us to lead the way as the true trailblazers that we are... Hell, without us feeding them their lines they would be just a cunt hair better than Salt and Pepper…”


” NO!”


” Oh yeah, I said it. If either of them is worth anything like they’ve claimed to be how come they haven’t been firing first shots? Why wait to see what we’re going to do before putting any effort up? Why did it take us hand-delivering a verbal ass raping for Thaddeus to suddenly give a shit? We didn’t have to wait for either one of you to speak before lashing out loudly...Especially to the degree that you’re both still laying back against the ropes while we are patiently waiting for anything worth the tissue we wipe our asses with.”


Robert takes another draw off his cigar before placing it in the ashtray.


” I’ll tell you what I’ve learned about Doc throughout this ordeal. I’ve learned why he hasn’t been tapped into that sacred hall in which he so craves. The people that are in this Hall are people who are natural-born leaders and not a guy that has to double-dip on a closing day.”


Chris slowly turns his head towards Robert drawing an immediate middle finger from his partner. Chris winks at him before turning back towards the camera.


” A beacon of change is what our opponents are striving to be… bring it… you’re not going to see the two of us flinch. If something was so important, if saving a division was detrimental as Louie wants us to believe; I mean it is a driving force that brought him back you know…”


Robert slams his fist on the bar while lashing out.


” ENOUGH!”


The entire bar goes so quiet you can hear a mouse piss on a cotton ball. Chris leans over softly asking his partner.


” Was it something I said?”


” I’m through pretending that I’m not completely and totally disrespected! First, of all Louie, any momentum you had going for yourself you’ve killed it by trying to play this cat and mouse game that we’re already hip too. I’m not going to pretend that he’s in my fucking league. Lazy doesn’t cut it and that’s the word that describes the good doctor to a fucking tee. Both of these shitstains are walking contradictions and don’t deserve to be in the same ring as us, they’re an embarrassment to this profession and are latching on to our backs to garner some notoriety. Relevance that they could never get on their own so the two dickless wonders combine their efforts and come after the hottest Tag Team walking on this planet... Hoping to gain just an ounce of credibility... High Stakes needs to come and go so we can move on to other things.”


” Calm the fuck down and save it for the ring brother because anyone can run their mouths and cut lengthy promos, and while Thad’s second nearly put me to sleep at least he isn’t playing second fiddle to my session’s albeit too little too late. He’s Chris Chaosed his way into the history books as a follower. It’s just a shame that in just a few short hours this will all come crashing down and their mounds of excuses will begin.”











"Robert, Oliver what happened witht he guns?"



"Exactly what you said would happen pop..."



"So, now what?"



"Simple answer boys... We go get what's ours!"



[Image: 3YSe.gif]
]]> <![CDATA[A Blue Promo.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39007 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 19:55:50 -0800 Reggie Estrada]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39007
[Image: czwultraviolenttitle.png]

I have a question to ask to those who don’t know me, do you think I have what it takes to be champion? Do I deserve to be placed in this position, where someone else would kill to be in? Do I have in me to promise myself to be holding it down as a targeted man in XWF? All these questions are what makes me ponder myself in this position i’ve been placed in, and I want to take a look at what i’ve done so far within this company.

Ever since i held the belt from the first time in my career, it was over some kinda dispute over the time limit. An arbitrary time limit, that is dedicated to be responsible to be in the position of staying on top of it all. Every time i’ve been pinning people for this belt, I always knew that I feel like I am doing the wrong thing. It’s like, taking that candy or cookie out of that jar and eating it, when you aren’t supposed too. Well, this belt I hold is my cookie jar… a forbidden fruit to have on me at all times.

A belt that many people who fell into deep desperation to hold, and to reach the zenith of that shot of a briefcase to any title they desire. Vacant or not, everyone wants to prove they are the best, as they have to constantly watch their surroundings. It’s like, you can’t even trust a mother or your baby mama who trying to suck the life out of you, that constant nagging, bitching, and complaining about nothing. This is how i see this belt, it’s an extension of that nagging wife who expects so much out of you.

This belt and I, are an unholy matrimony…

Ever since i got this belt from that mysterious entity lady who helped me take out Hanari, my whole life had changed for either the worst or for the better, and i’d say both. Better, it gave me a chance to be wild, free, and expressive as a human. She made me up, so she can truly be responsible for putting me in the spot that I am in today, as a Two time X-Treme champion. She made me feel alive, she made me question everything that in my way. But on the worst, she basically was just a entity who managed to have me focus on the wrong things, you see Lucy turned me into a monster.

Maybe she’s all a figment of my own disturbed desires… all dressed in black, with that veil to cover her face, so she can keep me focused on the wrong things. I guess, that means that i’m afraid of getting myself married to the unknown, which is why I can’t seem to hold down my own love life, since i’m scared of committing to an unknown fate. I guess now, as a two time X-Treme champion, and my newly minted FTX Championship close to me, looks like i’m going to be focusing on being married to game of X-Treme situations.

Until the day Lucy gives herself away to the next victim of the X-Treme championship reign, i guess I have to be loyal and faithful towards her, or risk losing it all. But at the same time, I could lose her if I wanted too, and live the rest of my days not being serenaded with her cold, worn out, and abused body; with the pretenses of being with her just so I can hold her down long enough, to get closer to her sister, Briefanna I can pass off to any belts I choose that’s been abandoned.

Dick Powers, he could have made it all easy and let him become submerged into this constant world of being a target, while being able to dodge all the attackers and deflect them at ease. Have him worry about that time limit, and let someone else watch in the shadows and say “i told you so, it anit easy being a X-Treme champion” as he stands there confused and bewildered over losing the belt and her demonic ways. Dick, I wished you were under Lucy’s spell, but you deiced to stay silent as you do. At this point, you gonna learn how much a monster I can become this Sunday under her spell.

This is new begging for myself as the X-Treme champion, this is my second chance at being able to stay under her spell until the day she moves away from me. This match isn’t just an X-Treme rules… this is straight up brawl to the death. I will put Dick on the shelf until he decides to show his face again in this place, and he knew he had that opportunity to blow it all away, over some miscommunication on who’s the champion. Well, that’s been established and it’s time to show her and these fans in Tombstone what Reggie is all about this Sunday.

This is going to be an unholy alliance with this belt and I….once again.]]>
[Image: czwultraviolenttitle.png]

I have a question to ask to those who don’t know me, do you think I have what it takes to be champion? Do I deserve to be placed in this position, where someone else would kill to be in? Do I have in me to promise myself to be holding it down as a targeted man in XWF? All these questions are what makes me ponder myself in this position i’ve been placed in, and I want to take a look at what i’ve done so far within this company.

Ever since i held the belt from the first time in my career, it was over some kinda dispute over the time limit. An arbitrary time limit, that is dedicated to be responsible to be in the position of staying on top of it all. Every time i’ve been pinning people for this belt, I always knew that I feel like I am doing the wrong thing. It’s like, taking that candy or cookie out of that jar and eating it, when you aren’t supposed too. Well, this belt I hold is my cookie jar… a forbidden fruit to have on me at all times.

A belt that many people who fell into deep desperation to hold, and to reach the zenith of that shot of a briefcase to any title they desire. Vacant or not, everyone wants to prove they are the best, as they have to constantly watch their surroundings. It’s like, you can’t even trust a mother or your baby mama who trying to suck the life out of you, that constant nagging, bitching, and complaining about nothing. This is how i see this belt, it’s an extension of that nagging wife who expects so much out of you.

This belt and I, are an unholy matrimony…

Ever since i got this belt from that mysterious entity lady who helped me take out Hanari, my whole life had changed for either the worst or for the better, and i’d say both. Better, it gave me a chance to be wild, free, and expressive as a human. She made me up, so she can truly be responsible for putting me in the spot that I am in today, as a Two time X-Treme champion. She made me feel alive, she made me question everything that in my way. But on the worst, she basically was just a entity who managed to have me focus on the wrong things, you see Lucy turned me into a monster.

Maybe she’s all a figment of my own disturbed desires… all dressed in black, with that veil to cover her face, so she can keep me focused on the wrong things. I guess, that means that i’m afraid of getting myself married to the unknown, which is why I can’t seem to hold down my own love life, since i’m scared of committing to an unknown fate. I guess now, as a two time X-Treme champion, and my newly minted FTX Championship close to me, looks like i’m going to be focusing on being married to game of X-Treme situations.

Until the day Lucy gives herself away to the next victim of the X-Treme championship reign, i guess I have to be loyal and faithful towards her, or risk losing it all. But at the same time, I could lose her if I wanted too, and live the rest of my days not being serenaded with her cold, worn out, and abused body; with the pretenses of being with her just so I can hold her down long enough, to get closer to her sister, Briefanna I can pass off to any belts I choose that’s been abandoned.

Dick Powers, he could have made it all easy and let him become submerged into this constant world of being a target, while being able to dodge all the attackers and deflect them at ease. Have him worry about that time limit, and let someone else watch in the shadows and say “i told you so, it anit easy being a X-Treme champion” as he stands there confused and bewildered over losing the belt and her demonic ways. Dick, I wished you were under Lucy’s spell, but you deiced to stay silent as you do. At this point, you gonna learn how much a monster I can become this Sunday under her spell.

This is new begging for myself as the X-Treme champion, this is my second chance at being able to stay under her spell until the day she moves away from me. This match isn’t just an X-Treme rules… this is straight up brawl to the death. I will put Dick on the shelf until he decides to show his face again in this place, and he knew he had that opportunity to blow it all away, over some miscommunication on who’s the champion. Well, that’s been established and it’s time to show her and these fans in Tombstone what Reggie is all about this Sunday.

This is going to be an unholy alliance with this belt and I….once again.]]> <![CDATA[Busy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39006 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 19:11:46 -0800 Thunder Knuckles™]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39006
**Busy**



Thunder Knuckles is seen at his desk again. Still looking through paperwork. He looks up in disgusted seeing the cameraman.


[Image: kenny-powers-k-swiss-320x198.jpg]



Fuck me! You're back? I need to fucking hired a goddamn trainer. Jimmy's job sucks harder than a goddamn Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird's jet engine! Fucking a goddamn American! I'm going to have to bite the fucking bullet on this one and just hire back Jimmy.


Thunder Knuckles picks up the phone at his desk.


[Image: mUkkRaV.png]



**Meeting pt 2**



Jimmy is standing in the middle of the circle all of the abused sidekicks in XWF are listen to him. He's been going on for about ten minutes at this point into horrendous detail.. Telling what had recently happened to him.


I was just trying to help him advance I didn't know they'd book him for the Hart Championship I thought that's something that would interest him. Not like I had a choice in the matter! I was just trying to make sure he showed up. It's kinda his thing. No matter what Thunder Knuckles is going to show up to get paid. Right? Wrong. He fired me. He was just yelling his lugs out at me, calling me a piece of shit, really mean stuff, you know?


Jimmy starts to walk back toward his chair. The rest of the abused side kicks all clap in their own self-pity, because that's what these meeting are for. The moderator stands up and walks to the center of the circle.


Okay everybody, just remember, that when push comes to shove you have to stand up for yourself. Don't always run back to your Hero, or Villain, whichever it maybe.


They all clap again to give thanks to the moderator. That's when Jimmy phone rings.





Jimmy looks at his phone and sees it Thunder Knuckles and quickly answers.


Hey Thunder Knuckles! Man, I'm really sorry I should have thought you wouldn't have wanted to film a promo for the Hart. I mean, for fucks sake, Smoking Bob still owes you two hundred thousand xbux!


Jimmy doesn't say anything but you see him bobbing his head up and down, as if to say yes.


I'll be right there!


Jimmy turns around, with a smile that could light up a church, to the group of abused sidekicks. They all look disappointed in Jimmy. Except for Todd. Todd knows what's up and gives Jimmy a thumbs up with a smile.


What?


Jimmy asks not caring what they think.


It's not my fault your hero, or Villain, which ever it may be. Doesn't fucking need you right now! Mine needs me!


The camera catches the moderator in the background. Who smiles to himself, as if, he got through to Jimmy. At least maybe just a little bit. Jimmy sprints out of room 666 and heads for his car. The cameraman is fast with running behind Jimmy. Jimmy yells back at the cameraman.


We have to hurry Thunder Knuckles is about to do something epic and needs my help! Get the fuck in the car, cameraman!


[Image: iybm2uvrbkhs6.gif]



The two men get into the car and head for Chicago. The view of the road fades back to Thunder Knuckles.


**Hanging up**



Thunder Knuckles smiles into the camera and kicks his feet up onto his desk.


[Image: gtzK5E1.png]



Now... Now we wait on Jimmy.


Thunder Knuckles holds up a VHS tape.


He'll take this footage to Todd and make fucking magic. In fact-


Thunder Knuckles snaps his fingers and the VHS tape disappears from his other hand.


Hey, Raven. Where best to fire the shot, than home?


Thunder Knuckles winks and the video package he's been working on shows on XWF television first.



]]>
**Busy**



Thunder Knuckles is seen at his desk again. Still looking through paperwork. He looks up in disgusted seeing the cameraman.


[Image: kenny-powers-k-swiss-320x198.jpg]



Fuck me! You're back? I need to fucking hired a goddamn trainer. Jimmy's job sucks harder than a goddamn Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird's jet engine! Fucking a goddamn American! I'm going to have to bite the fucking bullet on this one and just hire back Jimmy.


Thunder Knuckles picks up the phone at his desk.


[Image: mUkkRaV.png]



**Meeting pt 2**



Jimmy is standing in the middle of the circle all of the abused sidekicks in XWF are listen to him. He's been going on for about ten minutes at this point into horrendous detail.. Telling what had recently happened to him.


I was just trying to help him advance I didn't know they'd book him for the Hart Championship I thought that's something that would interest him. Not like I had a choice in the matter! I was just trying to make sure he showed up. It's kinda his thing. No matter what Thunder Knuckles is going to show up to get paid. Right? Wrong. He fired me. He was just yelling his lugs out at me, calling me a piece of shit, really mean stuff, you know?


Jimmy starts to walk back toward his chair. The rest of the abused side kicks all clap in their own self-pity, because that's what these meeting are for. The moderator stands up and walks to the center of the circle.


Okay everybody, just remember, that when push comes to shove you have to stand up for yourself. Don't always run back to your Hero, or Villain, whichever it maybe.


They all clap again to give thanks to the moderator. That's when Jimmy phone rings.





Jimmy looks at his phone and sees it Thunder Knuckles and quickly answers.


Hey Thunder Knuckles! Man, I'm really sorry I should have thought you wouldn't have wanted to film a promo for the Hart. I mean, for fucks sake, Smoking Bob still owes you two hundred thousand xbux!


Jimmy doesn't say anything but you see him bobbing his head up and down, as if to say yes.


I'll be right there!


Jimmy turns around, with a smile that could light up a church, to the group of abused sidekicks. They all look disappointed in Jimmy. Except for Todd. Todd knows what's up and gives Jimmy a thumbs up with a smile.


What?


Jimmy asks not caring what they think.


It's not my fault your hero, or Villain, which ever it may be. Doesn't fucking need you right now! Mine needs me!


The camera catches the moderator in the background. Who smiles to himself, as if, he got through to Jimmy. At least maybe just a little bit. Jimmy sprints out of room 666 and heads for his car. The cameraman is fast with running behind Jimmy. Jimmy yells back at the cameraman.


We have to hurry Thunder Knuckles is about to do something epic and needs my help! Get the fuck in the car, cameraman!


[Image: iybm2uvrbkhs6.gif]



The two men get into the car and head for Chicago. The view of the road fades back to Thunder Knuckles.


**Hanging up**



Thunder Knuckles smiles into the camera and kicks his feet up onto his desk.


[Image: gtzK5E1.png]



Now... Now we wait on Jimmy.


Thunder Knuckles holds up a VHS tape.


He'll take this footage to Todd and make fucking magic. In fact-


Thunder Knuckles snaps his fingers and the VHS tape disappears from his other hand.


Hey, Raven. Where best to fire the shot, than home?


Thunder Knuckles winks and the video package he's been working on shows on XWF television first.



]]> <![CDATA[So Far, So Far Away]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39005 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 18:56:43 -0800 Centurion]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39005

(In order to move forward with a new life, you have to take care of the loose ends on your previous life.

That is what Centurion is attempting to do now. The story of his father, Mavdris Cortinovis, is officially over. Following the disbandment of Golden Dawn, the alt-right political party of Greece that Mavdris helped fund, as well as the arrest and conviction of many of his former colleagues, the only thing that remains of the international criminal's legacy are his two children.

And they are currently in the process of burning his lasting memories.

We open up at a campground in an undisclosed location. There, we see Centurion and Allison standing in front of of fire. They have several boxes of documents next to them, and they are tossing file folders and other flammable items into the fire. The boxes are just cardboard Bankers boxes, but the files inside have "Classified" written in Greek on them. They aren't even looking at the files as they continuously toss them into the fire.

As the two throw their files in silence, the silhouette of Walter Crowe can be seen walking in behind the twins with a box of his own.)

Walter: Hey, if we're burning some useless crap, mind if I toss in some of my own?

Centurion: Sure. What do you have there?

(Walter sets the box down and opens it. Inside is a variety of different Donald Trump campaign merchandise - flyers, mailers, signs, hats - all crammed into the box, filling it to the point where the box is starting to puff out and lose its structural integrity. Centurion and Allison both look wide eyed at the box.)

Centurion: What the hell?! Were you hosting a GOP fundraiser at your house or something?

Walter: Hardly. This was all stuff that was sent to my house from the campaign. Turns out, when you're a registered Independent, every campaign tries to buy your love. I have a box just as full of Biden stuff still at the house.

Allison: ...you're a registered Independent?

Walter: Actually, I'm a registered member of the Reform Party.

Centurion: Still?

Walter: Yeah. I have no desire to change. I don't really care about the primaries, if I'm honest. And as one of the last remaining members of the party, I'm constantly getting phone calls from folks who want me to run for office. I might just do it someday.

Allison: Yeah, well whatever you do, don't run for Wildwood Crest School Board, or else Nellie may kill you.

(Walter laughs as he takes out some Trump signs and tosses them into the fire. The signs go up quickly, and all three take a second to admire the artistry they see before them.)

Centurion: It's cathartic, in a way. I know what we're going here tonight isn't going to erase these horrible men from history...but it does feel like we are erasing them from our lives.

Allison: It's a sign of growth. Personal growth. The damning legacy of our father was one of the things that kept you from being able to move on. Finding out about him and his beliefs - you've carried it with you for so long. Knowing that his movement is burned to the ground, and that all those that helped prop him up for so long are in jail is the closure that you need.

Centurion: True...well, except for one more thing.

Allison: Andy, no…

(Allison cuts Centurion off before he can say any more. Allison grabs Centurion by the hand and turns him toward her. Meanwhile, Walter continues to toss items into the fire.)

Allison: Don't put this pressure on yourself. Nathaniel Idenhaus has nothing to do with your father. Have your closure.

Centurion: You seem concerned. What, do you think I'm going to lose?

Allison: I think you CAN lose if you think this match is more than what it is. The only way you lose is if you put yourself on tilt. If you go in relaxed and at peace, you won't have any problems.

Centurion: I get what you're saying...but even you have to admit that the similarities are striking.

Allison: What similarities? Our father was an evil mastermind. He warped the brains of those around him, and used his money and power to build his influence. He spread his fascist ideology around the world, which allowed several political parties with evil intentions to actually build themselves up and poison the democracies of several countries. Nathaniel is a wrestler. He's a man who had delusions of being the next Fuhrer. He said some horrible shit to wrestling audiences….but that's it. He never had power. He never had influence. He's just...a guy.

Centurion: A guy who became a champion several times over because I wasn't around to stop him.

Allison: Andy…

Centurion: No!

(Centurion takes a handful of documents out of the box and tosses them into the fire before walking away. Allison follows as Centurion rants.)

Centurion: NAZI is the anthisis of all those people who poisoned the XWF for years. Other wrestlers may have been more successful, but none of them have ever been so blatantly evil. The fact that he was even successful at ALL shows how bad things have gotten. And it's not just professional wrestling. This alt-right, racist, wack job mentality has spread throughout all industries. It's become normalized. The fact that I'm fight this guy at ALL and it's not a major national story should tell you exactly what's going on.

Allison: Yes, but it's not your responsibility to fight every fascist in the world. You can't be responsible for taking out every person with a shitty opinion.

Centurion: No, but if I CAN, if I have the ability to do so, then I have the moral responsibility to do so. The fact that NAZI signed to the XWF isn't something I could change. But if I had been here five years ago, I could have taken him out before he ever gained any level of success.

Allison: So what are you going to do? Fight until your 70 just to make sure these folks never climb up the ranks?

Centurion: If I have to? Yes!

(Allison looks at Centurion, and for the first time, she understands what is going on in Centurion's head. While he may have closure with his father, and he may have closure with his former business partner, he'll never have closure over the political movement they gave rise to. Centurion is willing to give his life in order to end this hardcore ideology...and Allison is ready to get on board.)

Allison: Ok.

Centurion: ...ok?

Allison: Ok. If this is your new project, then not only am I not going to stop you, but I'm going to help you. There are certainly worse reasons to fight. What are you going to need for your match on Sunday?

Centurion: ... nothing. I'm going to bury this fool.

------Step In Front Of A Runaway Train-------

Doesn't it bother you, Nate?

Where we are on the card? The amount of attention we've gotten for this match? Doesn't it bother you in the least?

Think about it. We've been building toward this contest for months. You first attacked me back in April. We were supposed to fight several times throughout the summer, only for things to get pushed back. So it can't be blamed on lack of build.

You also can't blame it on me. This is my first match in the XWF since Relentless. The last two pay per views I've wrestled at, I was in the main event. My pay per view matches in UGWC? Main events. As Hart Champion, I was main eventing all the time. And if I so chose, I could have entered the Battle Royal and main evented again.

No, it's you. It's all you. The general public doesn't really care about you. The XWF management completely forgot you existed. The only person on the planet who gives an ounce of a shit about you...is me.

So you're welcome for that, at least. I couldn't get you into the big match, but I at least got you on the main card. Without me, I doubt you'd even make the flight out here.

"But if you're the only one who cares, aren't you actually helping him?" Yes, I know that is the prevailing thought. It comes from the old adage that ignoring someone makes them go away. It's this idea that, if we don't shine a light on terrible people, they will fade away and won't harm anyone. If I decided not to challenge Nate, he could have just gone back into hiding for the next several months. Isn't that what I want?

Well, yes and no. I want him gone, don't get me wrong. But I don't want him to be forgotten. I want everyone to remember the scum Nathaniel Idenhaus is and the things he had said and done over the years. Closing our eyes and ignoring it does not help the folks who have been victimized by this ideology. Learning from our past is the only way we can prevent ourselves from repeating it.

Not only that, but I did not want NAZI to go away on his own terms. He was able to do whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. He doesn't also get to decide he's done, and just fade into the background like nothing happened.

I've connected Idenhaus to recent events a lot lately, so allow me to do it once more. Allowing Idenhaus to just fade away is the same as your neighbor with the Trump flags and the posters quoting Q Anon conspiracies suddenly taking it all down after the election and going "hey, we can be friends, right?" It's what folks of this ideology do. They villainize people, then try to make you look like the bad guy when you fight back. It's called "Gaslighting"...which could be the name of Idenhaus' finishing move, to be honest.

You think I'm "obsessed" with "proving" that your a Nazi. I don't have to prove shit. Your own words and actions have proved it already. Like I said before, just declaring that it's no longer "who you are" isn't good enough. So you dropped your two middle names and stopped goose stepping in the streets. What, is that supposed to make it better? You're the "good guy" all of a sudden?

And you were the one who brought up your son. I'm going to be honest, I didn't even know you HAD a son. You mentioned it in hopes I would attack him. You were trying to bait me into a situation where we both look like dickheads. "Sure, Nate attacked him in a casino, but Centurion went after his son!" Next time, try not to be so obvious with that kind of thing. I wish nothing but the best for your son. I hope he has a good mother to look up to as a role model.

People may not care about our match right now, Nate. They are talking about the Battle Royal, or the matches for the Shooting Star Championship that are sure to be intriguing. They'll be talking about Robert Main and how he's going from double champion to only competing in one match in the course of a couple days. They'll be talking about Charlie Nickles and Johnny Legend, a match that has sneaky potential to be match of the night. They won't be talking about us…

...at first. But at the end of the night, our match will be the talk of the show. And it won't be for its competitive nature. It won't be because we put on a hell of a show. It won't be because it was a technical masterpiece. No, people are going to be talking about how much of a brutal beating this was. They're going to say that they didn't know a human being could lose that much blood and still survive. They're going to talk about that moment when I hung you from the top rope. They're going to assume they had witnessed a murder, or at the very least, wonder if I'm going to be brought up on charges.

And when that is over? Then you can fuck off. You can go away forever. You can enjoy your anonymity. Luckily, I'll be giving you a new face, so you don't have to worry about being recognized on the street. You want to truly move on from your past? This is how it's done. Not by bowing and waving, but by grovelling and begging for mercy. Hey, maybe I'll bring the victims and families of victims you've tormented over the years. They can be in your corner, holding the towel. If they think you've had enough of a beating, then I'll stop. If those you wished death upon can look you in the eyes and pity you, THEN it will be enough. THEN you will have moved on. Until then, you will feel every horrible thing I do to you.

"Behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." Enjoy the time you have left on this mortal realm, NAZI. Because Sunday night is going to be the longest night of your life. Don't look at me as the man who wants revenge for an attack at a casino. Look at me as your judgement. I'm coming, Nate…

And Hell's Coming With Me.]]>

(In order to move forward with a new life, you have to take care of the loose ends on your previous life.

That is what Centurion is attempting to do now. The story of his father, Mavdris Cortinovis, is officially over. Following the disbandment of Golden Dawn, the alt-right political party of Greece that Mavdris helped fund, as well as the arrest and conviction of many of his former colleagues, the only thing that remains of the international criminal's legacy are his two children.

And they are currently in the process of burning his lasting memories.

We open up at a campground in an undisclosed location. There, we see Centurion and Allison standing in front of of fire. They have several boxes of documents next to them, and they are tossing file folders and other flammable items into the fire. The boxes are just cardboard Bankers boxes, but the files inside have "Classified" written in Greek on them. They aren't even looking at the files as they continuously toss them into the fire.

As the two throw their files in silence, the silhouette of Walter Crowe can be seen walking in behind the twins with a box of his own.)

Walter: Hey, if we're burning some useless crap, mind if I toss in some of my own?

Centurion: Sure. What do you have there?

(Walter sets the box down and opens it. Inside is a variety of different Donald Trump campaign merchandise - flyers, mailers, signs, hats - all crammed into the box, filling it to the point where the box is starting to puff out and lose its structural integrity. Centurion and Allison both look wide eyed at the box.)

Centurion: What the hell?! Were you hosting a GOP fundraiser at your house or something?

Walter: Hardly. This was all stuff that was sent to my house from the campaign. Turns out, when you're a registered Independent, every campaign tries to buy your love. I have a box just as full of Biden stuff still at the house.

Allison: ...you're a registered Independent?

Walter: Actually, I'm a registered member of the Reform Party.

Centurion: Still?

Walter: Yeah. I have no desire to change. I don't really care about the primaries, if I'm honest. And as one of the last remaining members of the party, I'm constantly getting phone calls from folks who want me to run for office. I might just do it someday.

Allison: Yeah, well whatever you do, don't run for Wildwood Crest School Board, or else Nellie may kill you.

(Walter laughs as he takes out some Trump signs and tosses them into the fire. The signs go up quickly, and all three take a second to admire the artistry they see before them.)

Centurion: It's cathartic, in a way. I know what we're going here tonight isn't going to erase these horrible men from history...but it does feel like we are erasing them from our lives.

Allison: It's a sign of growth. Personal growth. The damning legacy of our father was one of the things that kept you from being able to move on. Finding out about him and his beliefs - you've carried it with you for so long. Knowing that his movement is burned to the ground, and that all those that helped prop him up for so long are in jail is the closure that you need.

Centurion: True...well, except for one more thing.

Allison: Andy, no…

(Allison cuts Centurion off before he can say any more. Allison grabs Centurion by the hand and turns him toward her. Meanwhile, Walter continues to toss items into the fire.)

Allison: Don't put this pressure on yourself. Nathaniel Idenhaus has nothing to do with your father. Have your closure.

Centurion: You seem concerned. What, do you think I'm going to lose?

Allison: I think you CAN lose if you think this match is more than what it is. The only way you lose is if you put yourself on tilt. If you go in relaxed and at peace, you won't have any problems.

Centurion: I get what you're saying...but even you have to admit that the similarities are striking.

Allison: What similarities? Our father was an evil mastermind. He warped the brains of those around him, and used his money and power to build his influence. He spread his fascist ideology around the world, which allowed several political parties with evil intentions to actually build themselves up and poison the democracies of several countries. Nathaniel is a wrestler. He's a man who had delusions of being the next Fuhrer. He said some horrible shit to wrestling audiences….but that's it. He never had power. He never had influence. He's just...a guy.

Centurion: A guy who became a champion several times over because I wasn't around to stop him.

Allison: Andy…

Centurion: No!

(Centurion takes a handful of documents out of the box and tosses them into the fire before walking away. Allison follows as Centurion rants.)

Centurion: NAZI is the anthisis of all those people who poisoned the XWF for years. Other wrestlers may have been more successful, but none of them have ever been so blatantly evil. The fact that he was even successful at ALL shows how bad things have gotten. And it's not just professional wrestling. This alt-right, racist, wack job mentality has spread throughout all industries. It's become normalized. The fact that I'm fight this guy at ALL and it's not a major national story should tell you exactly what's going on.

Allison: Yes, but it's not your responsibility to fight every fascist in the world. You can't be responsible for taking out every person with a shitty opinion.

Centurion: No, but if I CAN, if I have the ability to do so, then I have the moral responsibility to do so. The fact that NAZI signed to the XWF isn't something I could change. But if I had been here five years ago, I could have taken him out before he ever gained any level of success.

Allison: So what are you going to do? Fight until your 70 just to make sure these folks never climb up the ranks?

Centurion: If I have to? Yes!

(Allison looks at Centurion, and for the first time, she understands what is going on in Centurion's head. While he may have closure with his father, and he may have closure with his former business partner, he'll never have closure over the political movement they gave rise to. Centurion is willing to give his life in order to end this hardcore ideology...and Allison is ready to get on board.)

Allison: Ok.

Centurion: ...ok?

Allison: Ok. If this is your new project, then not only am I not going to stop you, but I'm going to help you. There are certainly worse reasons to fight. What are you going to need for your match on Sunday?

Centurion: ... nothing. I'm going to bury this fool.

------Step In Front Of A Runaway Train-------

Doesn't it bother you, Nate?

Where we are on the card? The amount of attention we've gotten for this match? Doesn't it bother you in the least?

Think about it. We've been building toward this contest for months. You first attacked me back in April. We were supposed to fight several times throughout the summer, only for things to get pushed back. So it can't be blamed on lack of build.

You also can't blame it on me. This is my first match in the XWF since Relentless. The last two pay per views I've wrestled at, I was in the main event. My pay per view matches in UGWC? Main events. As Hart Champion, I was main eventing all the time. And if I so chose, I could have entered the Battle Royal and main evented again.

No, it's you. It's all you. The general public doesn't really care about you. The XWF management completely forgot you existed. The only person on the planet who gives an ounce of a shit about you...is me.

So you're welcome for that, at least. I couldn't get you into the big match, but I at least got you on the main card. Without me, I doubt you'd even make the flight out here.

"But if you're the only one who cares, aren't you actually helping him?" Yes, I know that is the prevailing thought. It comes from the old adage that ignoring someone makes them go away. It's this idea that, if we don't shine a light on terrible people, they will fade away and won't harm anyone. If I decided not to challenge Nate, he could have just gone back into hiding for the next several months. Isn't that what I want?

Well, yes and no. I want him gone, don't get me wrong. But I don't want him to be forgotten. I want everyone to remember the scum Nathaniel Idenhaus is and the things he had said and done over the years. Closing our eyes and ignoring it does not help the folks who have been victimized by this ideology. Learning from our past is the only way we can prevent ourselves from repeating it.

Not only that, but I did not want NAZI to go away on his own terms. He was able to do whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. He doesn't also get to decide he's done, and just fade into the background like nothing happened.

I've connected Idenhaus to recent events a lot lately, so allow me to do it once more. Allowing Idenhaus to just fade away is the same as your neighbor with the Trump flags and the posters quoting Q Anon conspiracies suddenly taking it all down after the election and going "hey, we can be friends, right?" It's what folks of this ideology do. They villainize people, then try to make you look like the bad guy when you fight back. It's called "Gaslighting"...which could be the name of Idenhaus' finishing move, to be honest.

You think I'm "obsessed" with "proving" that your a Nazi. I don't have to prove shit. Your own words and actions have proved it already. Like I said before, just declaring that it's no longer "who you are" isn't good enough. So you dropped your two middle names and stopped goose stepping in the streets. What, is that supposed to make it better? You're the "good guy" all of a sudden?

And you were the one who brought up your son. I'm going to be honest, I didn't even know you HAD a son. You mentioned it in hopes I would attack him. You were trying to bait me into a situation where we both look like dickheads. "Sure, Nate attacked him in a casino, but Centurion went after his son!" Next time, try not to be so obvious with that kind of thing. I wish nothing but the best for your son. I hope he has a good mother to look up to as a role model.

People may not care about our match right now, Nate. They are talking about the Battle Royal, or the matches for the Shooting Star Championship that are sure to be intriguing. They'll be talking about Robert Main and how he's going from double champion to only competing in one match in the course of a couple days. They'll be talking about Charlie Nickles and Johnny Legend, a match that has sneaky potential to be match of the night. They won't be talking about us…

...at first. But at the end of the night, our match will be the talk of the show. And it won't be for its competitive nature. It won't be because we put on a hell of a show. It won't be because it was a technical masterpiece. No, people are going to be talking about how much of a brutal beating this was. They're going to say that they didn't know a human being could lose that much blood and still survive. They're going to talk about that moment when I hung you from the top rope. They're going to assume they had witnessed a murder, or at the very least, wonder if I'm going to be brought up on charges.

And when that is over? Then you can fuck off. You can go away forever. You can enjoy your anonymity. Luckily, I'll be giving you a new face, so you don't have to worry about being recognized on the street. You want to truly move on from your past? This is how it's done. Not by bowing and waving, but by grovelling and begging for mercy. Hey, maybe I'll bring the victims and families of victims you've tormented over the years. They can be in your corner, holding the towel. If they think you've had enough of a beating, then I'll stop. If those you wished death upon can look you in the eyes and pity you, THEN it will be enough. THEN you will have moved on. Until then, you will feel every horrible thing I do to you.

"Behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." Enjoy the time you have left on this mortal realm, NAZI. Because Sunday night is going to be the longest night of your life. Don't look at me as the man who wants revenge for an attack at a casino. Look at me as your judgement. I'm coming, Nate…

And Hell's Coming With Me.]]> <![CDATA[Doomsday]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39003 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 17:30:04 -0800 Lycana]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39003 lycana

The ending won't be forgotten
It's written in the stars and the hieroglyphs

Click]]> lycana

The ending won't be forgotten
It's written in the stars and the hieroglyphs

Click]]> <![CDATA[Greed]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39001 Sat, 28 Nov 2020 17:15:18 -0800 Halocen]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39001 Greed is one of the more common of the deadly sins. You want what someone else has. Take for example this match. I want what Jenny Myst has. Heck, what girl in this place doesn't. It's ours, no guy wants this unless he wants to put on booty shorts and jump in the ring. I welcome the challenge by the way. I can think of a half dozen guys in the back that would jump at the chance to get dolled up and get smacked around by one of us. Strange in my opinion, but everyone is different.

I'm not the only one greedy for the gold. There are five other chicks who want it on top of the gal who wants to keep it. Everyone knows they look better with gold on them. Especially women, you give us diamonds, gold, or chocolate and we just might call off the death squad for the day. We are fighting Saturday for the chance to one day hoist the Shooting Star Title high and grab a little recognition in the process. I am fighting against two ladies in just a few short hours who represent, along with me, a coming of a second wave. All the girls have the same opinion as me, I'm sure. The more the merrier. I love to scrap, I love to fight. To me once every couple of weeks isn't enough! Atara and Lycana, my opponents agree as well. Greedy for competition.

Atara for example, with her foreign feminine Wyles, uses good looks and big words to intimidate. Me, I say things short and sweet, hell I even cuss like a drunken sailor. After I'm done talking I will put a fist through your face. Hell, I might not even finish what I'm saying. She acts as though she is above the other ladies and will take time out of her schedule to join us. Though she was doing her laundry while ragging on Marf not too long ago. So there is that.

She is also one of the returning vets. There has been a huge influx of these folks lately. They must have gotten bored flipping channels and eating popcorn and had to show us what it's all about. I honestly welcome the challenge. A challenge like this ups your game. I will come out swinging because once you get smacked upside the head beauty, manners and upbringing go out the window and you become a feral animal. No one knows this better than Miss Themis. She is one not to be taken lightly. She also doesn't know me well either. I don't need to be switched on or smacked around to want to fight. My switch is always on, always amped up and greedy for blood. I don't have time to get my nails done in Greece. I'm training day and night. Hell, my nails haven't been more than nubs in years. My hair or skin hasn't ever been pampered and primped. I have fought for everything since I left home.

Lycana I said it before and I will say it again, you are a wildcard sweetie. Like me, you have the wild hair, the punk attitude, and the drive to survive. Unlike me, however, you have not seen time in this ring. Green is good and bad. Green makes you an unknown quantity. You come in with an air of mystery. Personally, I think it's bad though. Green means you haven't felt the rush, you haven't been toe to toe and come out on the other end. I sympathize with you though, I just darkened the stage recently myself. My point is to go play in the shallow end a bit, hell, the kiddie pool, then come back and see us when you've mastered the doggie paddle. The big girls need time to themselves.

Ladies, one of the biggest challenges of our careers lies ahead of us at High Stakes! That gold is so close I can taste it. I can see my reflection on the polished surface. Greed got us here and Greed will pull us through to the other side.

]]> Greed is one of the more common of the deadly sins. You want what someone else has. Take for example this match. I want what Jenny Myst has. Heck, what girl in this place doesn't. It's ours, no guy wants this unless he wants to put on booty shorts and jump in the ring. I welcome the challenge by the way. I can think of a half dozen guys in the back that would jump at the chance to get dolled up and get smacked around by one of us. Strange in my opinion, but everyone is different.

I'm not the only one greedy for the gold. There are five other chicks who want it on top of the gal who wants to keep it. Everyone knows they look better with gold on them. Especially women, you give us diamonds, gold, or chocolate and we just might call off the death squad for the day. We are fighting Saturday for the chance to one day hoist the Shooting Star Title high and grab a little recognition in the process. I am fighting against two ladies in just a few short hours who represent, along with me, a coming of a second wave. All the girls have the same opinion as me, I'm sure. The more the merrier. I love to scrap, I love to fight. To me once every couple of weeks isn't enough! Atara and Lycana, my opponents agree as well. Greedy for competition.

Atara for example, with her foreign feminine Wyles, uses good looks and big words to intimidate. Me, I say things short and sweet, hell I even cuss like a drunken sailor. After I'm done talking I will put a fist through your face. Hell, I might not even finish what I'm saying. She acts as though she is above the other ladies and will take time out of her schedule to join us. Though she was doing her laundry while ragging on Marf not too long ago. So there is that.

She is also one of the returning vets. There has been a huge influx of these folks lately. They must have gotten bored flipping channels and eating popcorn and had to show us what it's all about. I honestly welcome the challenge. A challenge like this ups your game. I will come out swinging because once you get smacked upside the head beauty, manners and upbringing go out the window and you become a feral animal. No one knows this better than Miss Themis. She is one not to be taken lightly. She also doesn't know me well either. I don't need to be switched on or smacked around to want to fight. My switch is always on, always amped up and greedy for blood. I don't have time to get my nails done in Greece. I'm training day and night. Hell, my nails haven't been more than nubs in years. My hair or skin hasn't ever been pampered and primped. I have fought for everything since I left home.

Lycana I said it before and I will say it again, you are a wildcard sweetie. Like me, you have the wild hair, the punk attitude, and the drive to survive. Unlike me, however, you have not seen time in this ring. Green is good and bad. Green makes you an unknown quantity. You come in with an air of mystery. Personally, I think it's bad though. Green means you haven't felt the rush, you haven't been toe to toe and come out on the other end. I sympathize with you though, I just darkened the stage recently myself. My point is to go play in the shallow end a bit, hell, the kiddie pool, then come back and see us when you've mastered the doggie paddle. The big girls need time to themselves.

Ladies, one of the biggest challenges of our careers lies ahead of us at High Stakes! That gold is so close I can taste it. I can see my reflection on the polished surface. Greed got us here and Greed will pull us through to the other side.

]]>