<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Snow Job 2021 RP Board]]>

<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Snow Job 2021 RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Fri, 08 May 2026 15:01:20 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Family Reunion. (Part 2)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39621 Sun, 31 Jan 2021 00:00:20 -0800 R.L. Edgar]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39621 continued from: Family Reunion. (Part 1)

After a fifteen-minute haul from one side of Franklin County to the other, trekking over the river, and through the woods to the ‘Grandmother’s House’ of our collective townships, 'I pulled into Nazareth and was feeling about half-past-dead’.

Now I can’t quite put my finger on why, but every time I come around that little bend by Chester Schnelling’s bar and turn onto Providence Ave; which is a six-mile-long, shotgun-like stretch of two-lane road that serves as Nazareth’s Main Street, I become overwhelmed by this tethering sensation of dread, like I’m entering a frozen, moon-lit cemetery where the past never dies and is instead hidden in plain sight.

It’s been that way all of my life. Maybe the devil was in the name: Nazareth. It oozed of dust and antiquity, much like the decaying “Southern Suburbia” sprawl that aligned either side of Providence Ave. I remember once my father telling me about the moment he knew that he’d spend the rest of his life here. He was from a very flat, very desolate part of Indiana, so you could imagine his wonder as he first rode into town, taking the snaking trail that ripped between the valley filled with lush vegetation and glowing creek shores called Devil’s Hollow.

“It was the most ridiculous name I’d ever heard, and still the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”

I remember him saying,

My father was happy that he wasn’t “in Kansas anymore”, and unlike Dorothy, he was going to make Oz, or in this case, Nazareth, his new home.

“This place is parody, son. It is color. It is a living, breathing story. It’s everything that folks like you and me only stumble on out of weird happenstance.”

For a moment I could almost see my father sitting there in the van next to me, motioning his hand out with a confident little flick of his wrist before pulling down on the end of his scraggly beard, the two of us looked nearly identical. But with a deep breath and a double-take, his image faded.

Choking back some tears out of habit, I carried on down the road, headed for whatever this little shindig was that my father had planned for us to attend. I gazed at the piece of paper that Fannie gave me again, studying my father’s handwriting. The address was familiar, but I didn’t really want to go where my subconscious was pointing me towards, it would be, given everything recently, too weird of a happenstance.

But following-suit there it was, 1300 Spring St.

The American Legion.

My heart sank. This was where it all began for me. Where my father brought me to my first wrestling match. Where a little mustard seed of a dream was planted. He was bringing me there again.

Now Nazareth was absolutely devoid of anything even resembling, what at one time, was considered its antique charm. The town itself was just frozen in a frame, like a horrible picture that you never have to look at, but one that stays hung on your wall all the same. There was hardly any traffic, and I pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the Legion with ease.

I sat there for a moment in a diffident pause before I could even look up at the building. It wasn’t that bustling, smoke-filled warp into intrigue and excitement that I knew as a child. It was cold, no, it was freezing out, and like every other inch of that town, the building itself even looked like it was freezing, like a broken and a shivering man standing out on the sidewalk begging for a dollar.

After awhile of painstaking the situation, I drug myself out of the van. I had no clue what this “event” was, I mean a family reunion? In January? In Nazareth? My father’s family wasn’t even from Kentucky. Of course, he could have misspoken when explaining the details to my sister Fannie, or more likely, she misunderstood. But I guess I half just assumed it was maybe some of Dad’s old drinking buddies. It wouldn’t have been such a bad thing to see some of those guys again, and a drink didn’t sound half bad either.

As I entered the building I noticed a sign reading: ‘Private Event’, tapped on the dark tinted glass of the door. I pulled the door open to find there was about as much liveliness inside as there was outside, there wasn’t even anyone tending the bar. Just to my right as I walked inside was this little table set up with an empty guest book like a damn funeral.

After peeking into the ballroom where I watched my first live wrestling match all those years ago and finding it to be empty as well, I went ahead and took a seat at the bar just ahead.

“Hello?”

I hollered back behind the bar and into the kitchen. After a moment of no one answering, I sighed in a bit of relief, realizing that this must have been a mixup. I pulled my phone out and dialed Marie, but just it began to ring the door behind me swung open,

“Got’damn!”

What appears to be some drunk in a suit bumbles his way through the door. He studies the guest book for a moment like really studies it, before jotting something down on its pages. I turn back away from him as the phone continues to ring,

“Hey, son? Where the hell's the party?”

He hollers at me with a gravely southern draw,

Turning back as the call goes to voicemail I notice the man as he staggers toward me, he actually looked fairly familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on…

[Image: ZTlsM4z.jpg]

"I'm Muddy. Muddy Waters."

"Oh shit!"

I knew he looked familiar,

"I knew you looked familiar, man. You're Dolly Waters' dad! From the XWF right?"

"Guilty as charged."

I excitedly shift into a refocused eye contact with him adding a little smile so he could get a better look at me,

"R.L. Edgar"

I said pointing at myself,

"Never heard of her."

"Nah."

I reposition myself, standing away from my seat now,

"Nah man, I'm R.L. Edgar. I... I wrestle in the XWF too."

"TINKER!" He hollered to the back of the bar, indicating that he's familiar with the bartender. "Is Tinker back there?" He asked while turning toward me and totally ignoring what I said to him before nearly climbing over the bar top as he hollered again: "TINKER! MUDDY DONE GOT ALL DOLLED UP AND AIN'T NARE A TATER OUT HERE!"

Suddenly there's a flick of a cigarette lighter at the end of the bar, prompting both Muddy and me to turn towards it,

"I'm glad you boys are finally getting to meet one another."

Said a woman with a sassy southern twang,

[Image: ElasticGoodAmericanwigeon-size_restricted.gif]

"MOMMA!"

"Momma?"

I retort with an incredulous twist on my face. This redheaded woman wearing denim was attractive and looked barely older than either of us, there was no way this was Muddy's mom.

Muddy begins to uncomfortable and fidgeting around as she almost struts her way over toward us,

"Wow"

She said looking me over,

"You sure look an awful lot like yer' daddy."

"Don't look her in the eyes, Edgar. She sucks the souls outta' men. That's how she looks so young."

"Oh shut up, Muddy. Imagine what I'd look like if I didn't have to raise yer' sorry ass."

"Wait. How do you know me?"

"You're Brady Edgar's son.

"Yeah, so?"

"I'm Misty Waters. I'm your Momma, R.L.."

"Damn!"

Muddy said slapping my arm as my face lost all of its colors,

"Now that's a quinky-dink!"

-to be continued-
(OOC: Credit Atara for the awesome photoshop)

"What does it mean to be a champion?

That's the type of often-barked garbage of a rhetorical question that Ned Kaye would have you ponder. But coming from him, what difference does it make? He already knows the answer.

He knows that a great champion is someone who wasn't even happy to win their championship.

He knows that a great champion is someone who keeps unsolicited excuses for his mistakes on speed dial.

He knows that a great champion is someone who isn't "incredibly different" from a laughing stock wearing a cheap Walmart costume.

He knows that great champion finds himself silenced for a week and does little-to-nothing to promote his championship match.

Ned Kaye knows that he's in a championship match at Snow Job, and Ned Kaye knows that he's going to lose.

The fact that Ned Kaye, a person who built himself as this inspiration of a Hart Champion, this underdog taking on all comers, the fact that he's remained silent, and not had a word for this match since last week shows his lack of heart. I guess he's getting "worn out" because he had "obligations" outside of repping the strap for Warfare in a meaningful way.

Simply put, Ned Kaye knows he doesn't have what it takes to beat me, he knew it the second he saw the card. That's why he's kept his mouth shut. Because more than anything Ned knows all about the position he's about to be in at Snow Job. He knows all about losing. He knows what a person who's going to beat him looks like.

He knows it's not some dollar store gangster or a bum-knee-having joke of a superhero. Oh, that's right, Shawn Wylde said he doesn't have bad knee.

Do you know what else Ned Kaye probably knows? He probably knows that it would take the most oblivious human being walking the earth to list under "weaknesses" on their XWF.COM roster profile, and I quote:

"Shawn has a bad left knee that can take him off of his aerial game."

and then to claim the contrary.

Now Shawn, why you and your manager got mixed up on who has what injury, I haven't the slightest clue. I mean it does seem like Tommy could easily get mixed up given all of the angles he keeps desperately trying to execute. Maybe this is just some more of your overall incoherence on display again. Saying that the bullshit you do is entertaining?

Okay, yeah, maybe watching a grown man dressed in cosplay having his ass handed to him weekly by the same two people is entertaining to some, but other than that, you're just a poorly ran comedy routine. I don't take a single thing you say seriously, and it's because I know you can't back it up.

That little mustard seed of a dream I planted nearly twenty years ago? Well, it's about to bloom from under the snow in Green Bay. I'm going to be the new Hart Champion. Because neither of you can hang with my shit.

]]> continued from: Family Reunion. (Part 1)

After a fifteen-minute haul from one side of Franklin County to the other, trekking over the river, and through the woods to the ‘Grandmother’s House’ of our collective townships, 'I pulled into Nazareth and was feeling about half-past-dead’.

Now I can’t quite put my finger on why, but every time I come around that little bend by Chester Schnelling’s bar and turn onto Providence Ave; which is a six-mile-long, shotgun-like stretch of two-lane road that serves as Nazareth’s Main Street, I become overwhelmed by this tethering sensation of dread, like I’m entering a frozen, moon-lit cemetery where the past never dies and is instead hidden in plain sight.

It’s been that way all of my life. Maybe the devil was in the name: Nazareth. It oozed of dust and antiquity, much like the decaying “Southern Suburbia” sprawl that aligned either side of Providence Ave. I remember once my father telling me about the moment he knew that he’d spend the rest of his life here. He was from a very flat, very desolate part of Indiana, so you could imagine his wonder as he first rode into town, taking the snaking trail that ripped between the valley filled with lush vegetation and glowing creek shores called Devil’s Hollow.

“It was the most ridiculous name I’d ever heard, and still the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”

I remember him saying,

My father was happy that he wasn’t “in Kansas anymore”, and unlike Dorothy, he was going to make Oz, or in this case, Nazareth, his new home.

“This place is parody, son. It is color. It is a living, breathing story. It’s everything that folks like you and me only stumble on out of weird happenstance.”

For a moment I could almost see my father sitting there in the van next to me, motioning his hand out with a confident little flick of his wrist before pulling down on the end of his scraggly beard, the two of us looked nearly identical. But with a deep breath and a double-take, his image faded.

Choking back some tears out of habit, I carried on down the road, headed for whatever this little shindig was that my father had planned for us to attend. I gazed at the piece of paper that Fannie gave me again, studying my father’s handwriting. The address was familiar, but I didn’t really want to go where my subconscious was pointing me towards, it would be, given everything recently, too weird of a happenstance.

But following-suit there it was, 1300 Spring St.

The American Legion.

My heart sank. This was where it all began for me. Where my father brought me to my first wrestling match. Where a little mustard seed of a dream was planted. He was bringing me there again.

Now Nazareth was absolutely devoid of anything even resembling, what at one time, was considered its antique charm. The town itself was just frozen in a frame, like a horrible picture that you never have to look at, but one that stays hung on your wall all the same. There was hardly any traffic, and I pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the Legion with ease.

I sat there for a moment in a diffident pause before I could even look up at the building. It wasn’t that bustling, smoke-filled warp into intrigue and excitement that I knew as a child. It was cold, no, it was freezing out, and like every other inch of that town, the building itself even looked like it was freezing, like a broken and a shivering man standing out on the sidewalk begging for a dollar.

After awhile of painstaking the situation, I drug myself out of the van. I had no clue what this “event” was, I mean a family reunion? In January? In Nazareth? My father’s family wasn’t even from Kentucky. Of course, he could have misspoken when explaining the details to my sister Fannie, or more likely, she misunderstood. But I guess I half just assumed it was maybe some of Dad’s old drinking buddies. It wouldn’t have been such a bad thing to see some of those guys again, and a drink didn’t sound half bad either.

As I entered the building I noticed a sign reading: ‘Private Event’, tapped on the dark tinted glass of the door. I pulled the door open to find there was about as much liveliness inside as there was outside, there wasn’t even anyone tending the bar. Just to my right as I walked inside was this little table set up with an empty guest book like a damn funeral.

After peeking into the ballroom where I watched my first live wrestling match all those years ago and finding it to be empty as well, I went ahead and took a seat at the bar just ahead.

“Hello?”

I hollered back behind the bar and into the kitchen. After a moment of no one answering, I sighed in a bit of relief, realizing that this must have been a mixup. I pulled my phone out and dialed Marie, but just it began to ring the door behind me swung open,

“Got’damn!”

What appears to be some drunk in a suit bumbles his way through the door. He studies the guest book for a moment like really studies it, before jotting something down on its pages. I turn back away from him as the phone continues to ring,

“Hey, son? Where the hell's the party?”

He hollers at me with a gravely southern draw,

Turning back as the call goes to voicemail I notice the man as he staggers toward me, he actually looked fairly familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on…

[Image: ZTlsM4z.jpg]

On Board Illuminatus Two || Flight Level & Path Unknown || 10:47 AM

I don’t know that “I have a different idea” is what they wanted to hear. To be honest, what they want isn’t my concern. One may sit and scoff at the notion that a living breathing Thaddeus sat and listened to the advice of a man that died five years ago, but be that as it may, it doesn’t negate the fact that he’s right. We fight, or we die. There is nothing in between.

”What’s the idea then?” my father asks as I stand up. In the cabinet lining the wall behind me lies a safe. Inside that safe is a small armory. With Frankie now secure in the safe room, it’s time to get down to business.

”Well, I was talking to grandfather,” I begin to explain as I spin the dial on the safe. With futility, I try to stop myself from saying what I just did. I’ve never told my dad about my… visions… of his dead father.

”My father,” he repeats with some uncertainty that maybe he didn’t hear me right.

”Yeah,” I admit as I turn the handle and roll out the safe drawer containing the weaponry. ”I’ve seen him a number of times since his death, dad. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes he’s able to shed new light on things, get me to see things in a different perspective that maybe I didn’t see before.”

”You’re right,” he states. ”It does sound crazy.”

”I knew about it,” Jim interjects. ”Whatever you want to call it, visions, hallucinations, or just deep thought manifesting as advice from Asmodeus. Whatever they are Sebastian, he’s been having them every now again since he died.”

Turning around and pulling my armored vest over my head, I notice my dad shake his head and roll his eyes.

”And what did your dear dead grandpappy advise you Thaddeus?”

Understanding his mockery, I don’t answer him immediately. Instead, I continue to dress for combat, pulling the top of my fatigues over my shoulders.

”You’re retaking the plane,” he assumes as he leans back in his chair on screen.

”If you do that Thaddeus,” Tritter interjects, knowing I’m annoyed at my dad right now. ”We’re not getting a location on the Ares Project… I know why you want to do it… I just think that puts us back at square one.”

”Lincoln, saying that puts us back at square one,” I begin as I pull out my camo pants from the drawer. ”Means to suggest we ever left square one in the first place. We haven’t, Tritter. We both know it.”

Looking over at Jim’s screen, I notice him smiling wide as if he knows exactly what I’m about to tell them.

”Y’all see Jim smiling?” I ask the lot of them. ”You got a Illuminatus banner in your office dad?”

”Of course I do,” he answers quickly.

”Those colors don’t surrender dad. I’m not about to give up Frankie’s life, my life, this plane without taking a god damn swing. If they’re gonna kill us, they’re gonna have to fuckin earn the right to do it.”

”How do you plan to do that?” Tritter asks with a forced smile.

”Well to begin with, I know the plane, they don’t,” I answer him as I hop around, trying to pull my pants on. ”All I need is time, Tritter.”

”Time for what?”

Nearly losing my balance as I button up, I notice we’ve started descending rapidly.

”Linc, where are we?” I ask as I widen my stance some.

”Tennessee,” he answers after I quick peek to his right. ”Why?”

”They’re taking us down,” comes my answer with a bit of nervous excitement evident in my voice. ”How far out are your boys dad?”

”They’ve been racing to intersect your trajectory, but they can’t keep up with a 747. Given your location and theirs, I’d say they’re about twenty minutes out when you land.”

”Lincoln, do I need to do anything on my end to let your hackers get on their game?”

”Nope,” he answers with a shake of his head. ”Once you land, we have the location... We can point one of our sats there... and they’ll do the rest. If there’s anything to find, they’ll get in.”

”I think we can hold them off for twenty minutes,” I say, thinking out loud. ”How will I stop them from just attacking the plane?”

”You’re letting them land, that’s the hard part. Once they’re on the ground, they’ll be thinking they got you,” he answers. ”What you need to do though is let them come to you, don’t go chasing the pilots into the cockpit. They’ll radio ahead and they’ll disable the plane.

“If you can manage it, separate the pilots and take them out one at a time. Then get to the cargo hold. If you position yourself on the catwalk you’ll have a better vantage point to anyone coming near the plane so wait until you’re up top to open the cargo hold. Start picking them off one by one, they’re not ready for an attack on them so they won’t be ready to disable the plane.

“Hold them off long enough for my boys to get there. They’ll provide covering fire and you get your ass back to the cockpit and get the hell out of there.”

”Alright,” I say as the reality begins to set in. ”I’m switching to my ear piece now so you guys lay out.”

”Thad?” my dad calls over my ear piece as I start handing out weapons and magazines to Frankie’s protection detail. ”Where’s your flight crew?”

”I haven’t been up front,” I answer him as I spy my dads Assassins Creed inspired hidden blade. ”I don’t know what went on up there,” I conclude as I secure the blade to my wrist. After securing two sidearms to my thighs its time to get moving. With my heart pounding out my chest and resolve made of steel, I quietly exit the Sit Room and head forward toward the front of the plane. Frankie’s detail remains behind me and as I reach the curtain to the passenger compartment I hesitate to move any further.

”To the cargo hold,” I instruct them. ”Grab my rifle, take it to the catwalk.”

As the protection detail departs my position, I take a deep breath before peeling back the curtain to take a peek.

”Christ,” I mutter to myself.

”What is it?” Dad asks.

”It’s a killing field up here,” I answer back. Looking around as quickly as I can and noticing no discernible movement, I advance through the curtain and start to weave my way over and around the bodies of a dozen of my crew toward the cockpit.

”Mate?” Jim calls in over the radio.

”Yeah?”

”I love you bro,” he says with a somber tone.

”Yeah,” I reply quietly. ”I love you too man.”

”Avenge them mate,” he says with a shaky voice while holding back emotion. ”But get your ass back here okay?”

”Yeah,” I reply back as peek out the window. We’re close to the ground now so I disappear into a darkened coat closet behind the cockpit.

Silently, I sit reflecting on the last year of my life. I’ve come so far compared to where I was and I don’t mean professionally. While I’ve done a great deal there too, that just isn’t what I care about at the moment. The only thing on my mind is Elizabeth, Frankie, and the twins coming in about five or six months. I wonder what it’ll do to Liz if I don’t make it out of this. I wonder what kind of life she’ll give my children in my absence. With me gone, would my dad make it a priority to make himself available to my kids? Would he even want to?

The plane jerks beneath me as it touches down and I feel so bad that I’m not with Frankie. He’s alone and scared in a fucking panic room and he’s scared to death of take offs and landings. Some time later the plane rolls to a stop and the engines wind down.

Stepping from the cockpit, two men. They stretch their arms and legs, unknowing that I now stand waiting for them to pass by my position. They smile and laugh with each other about how easy it all was. They make comments about the different smells wafting into the cockpit from the passenger compartment. I learned death a long time ago. Far sooner and certainly far younger than perhaps I should have. Nevertheless, I know it well. Death smells like shit.

”Location pinged Thad,” Tritter informs me across the radio.

”Alpha One inbound, sixteen minutes,” relays my father referring to his team from Veneras International en route to presumably Tennessee. My Liz is just one state over. What I wouldn’t give to be with her right now.

The hijackers get to their feet as the engines die out now almost completely. Passing by my position, they make grunts and groans as the stench of death grows closer. As the second of the hijackers pass by, I quietly step out behind them. Grabbing the one closest to me by the hair, I quickly drive the hidden blade into his throat. His eyes grow wide out of fear and realization as his life blood leaks from the wound, down the blade and all over my arm. If I said I didn’t enjoy it for a moment, call me a fucking liar. Hell yeah it’s satisfying.

Hearing his friend gurgle, he turns around quickly but I drop the now dying hijacker and draw my pistol too fast for the Brad Wallace hijacker to respond. Instead, he stares down the barrel of my pistol.

”Did you really think this was gonna be easy?” I ask him.

”You’re in the lions den now,” he states cockily. ”Even if you kill me, there’s no way you’re getting out of this alive.”

”Maybe not,” I agree with him. ”But I’ve been defying big odds since the day I was born. And if you and your brothers and sisters think that I’m goin’ down without taking a whole bunch of you with me, then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

”Enough with the chit chat Thad!” my dad yells at me through the radio. ”The longer you wait to open the cargo hold, the easier time they’re gonna have in thinking something is up. Just pull the fucking trigger!”

”Turn around,” I instruct of the apparent Brad Wallace. He listens with very little hesitation. ”Walk,” I order him, but he hesitates.

”What the fuck are you doing!?”

”WALK!” I order him again, this time with the barrel of my gun touching the back of his skull. This time he does as ordered. With his hands up, he makes his way through the sea of dead bodies. Outside the passenger compartment now and in the hallway, we proceed with a little more step. As we near the Sit Room I grab him by his collar. ”Right,” I say to him and he turns, entering the Sit Room.

”Hands on the table,” I order him and he does as instructed. Quickly patting him down, I pull his only weapon from him. Just a lonely pistol.

”Taking too long, Thad!”

Grabbing Brad by his arm I spin him around and with my pistol, I point toward the opened and emptied safe drawer. It’s rather deep and wide. Perfect size for a prisoner.

”You can’t be serious,” he pleads.

”Of course I’m serious.”

Hesitantly, he climbs inside the drawer. I nod in his direction, urging him to take a seat.

”If I don’t make it out Brad,” I begin a line of antagonism. ”Then you’ll slowly starve to death. And if I do… if you think that’s gonna have a happy ending then I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.

“You put my sons life in eminent danger and Brad, that will never go unpunished. That I can promise you,” I conclude before sliding the drawer shut and locking the safe.

”That was cold,” dad states. ”Kinda like it. Now get the fuck moving!”

Moving quickly, at almost a running pace, I exit the Sit Room and head down the hallway toward the stairs about three quarters of the way down the length of the plane. Reaching the stairs, I give ‘em the Navy slide down the steps into the cargo bay only to realize my fighting men are nowhere to be seen. Hearing a whistle from the catwalk, I turn with my gun pointed. All of them are on the catwalk to my surprise. Climbing the steps up to the catwalk, all five of them lie on the floor if it, each with sniper rifles pointed toward the ramp.

”All of us up here is not what I had in mind,” I tell Harrison, Frankie’s detail chief.

”Figured we can all surprise them with sniper fire until they wrap their head around what happened,” Harrison informs me as I hit the big red button on the wall and quickly move into position. ”Then we’ll fan out later.”

As the cargo ramp lowers toward the ground and my eyes adjust to the sunlight, I can see two guys headed for the plane. Dozens of others are further back.

”Alpha One inbound, nine minutes,” my dad updates me.

”Start on those fucks nears the building,” I order of them as I focus myself through the scope. ”Try not to target the same guys okay? Nine minutes and we’re out of here.”

Trying to survey through the scope, unfortunately there’s no sign of General McGovern. Had he been here, that would be my first shot.

”On my mark gentlemen, and happy hunting,” I say as I release the safety and work the bolt, loading a cartridge into the chamber. My men do the same. Focusing again…

”Three… two… one… MARK!” The six of us send a volley of sniper fire into the crowd gathering outside the building roughly the length of a football field away. Just as we squeezed our triggers, I’m certain I saw McGovern exit the building. His build is unmistakable.

”Fire at will!” I order and another volley of shots is sent toward the Ares Project. McGovern, he’s kind of tall and thick. Aging with white hair. In his younger days he was probably built like a tank. He’s still got a muscular build but its worn and weathered over by years and years of body abuse… not unlike Chris Page.

If only I’d waited a few more seconds. I know it was him. McGovern cowers back into the building as his men are dropping like flies. The two men that were approaching the plane are in full retreat and unarmed. Men scatter as we fire off another volley.

”Seven minutes,” dad says. Anticipation and anxiousness supremely evident in his voice.

Another volley. More death. It feels so… euphoric. They steal my plane and land it right in the middle of their base of operations, like a Trojan fucking Horse. Their plan was ballsy, I’ll give them that.

”McGovern’s here dad,” I tell him as we fire off another volley. More bodies drop. On their side, dozens of men are now coming back out of the building with weapons drawn and firing in our direction. ”Eyes open boys, here come the troops.”

With a football field between us, we have a little time before we need to scatter. Shot after shot after shot. More Ares Project bodies drop and I love every second of it.

”Five minutes,” comes the call from dad. ”You guys alright?”

”Spread it out!” I order my men, ignoring my dad’s question. Leaving the sniper rifles behind, they exit the catwalk down the stairs, grabbing their assault rifles that lay on the hood of the limo. I maintain my position up top and Harrison tosses me up an automatic.

The Ares Project soldiers come closer and closer, firing and crouching. Firing again and body rolling to one side or the other. Bullets come racing in striking the armored limo, striking the interior structure of the aircraft, striking the steel posts holding up the catwalk. My boys fire back and one of them is cut down.

”Four minutes Thad.”

The four remaining men I have, and me still hidden up on the catwalk fire back, cutting down several of theirs. Some of theirs duck for cover. It’s an open field and they’re doing their best. Returning fire, my guys duck behind different objects in the cargo hold. The best cover is the damn limo. Nothing is penetrating that son of bitch.

The good guys fire back again for a few seconds before dipping back into cover. Just a few were hit this time as return fire comes in quickly, striking anything and everything. A ricochet nearly clips my ear… damn ears always sticking out.

”Two minute warning,” dad informs me. ”Shots are getting quieter on our side.”

We fire back again but they’re getting close and another wave of Ares Project soldiers comes running out of the building toward the plane. They fire too. Two more of mine are cut down. Just three of us left that gotta hold them off for 120 more seconds. A few make it to either side of the cargo ramp. Two of theirs go down and one of mine.

Only Harrison and I remain. I debate in my head whether or not to abandon my position and head down to help him. If I fire right now, it gives away my position.

”Sixty seconds.”

”Fuck it,” I mutter to myself and roll to my right and get to my feet. Running toward the steps, more shots are fired. This time, from inside the belly of the plane. When I reach the bottom of the steps I turn to my left and see an Ares Project soldier standing over Harrison. Before I can act, he puts a bullet in Harrison’s skull.

”Thirty seconds.”

Out in the field I can hear their men screaming from a distance. “Incoming!” I hear them yell as they retreat toward their building. Inside the plane, I pull the trigger, sending a myriad of shots into Harrison’s killer. With the Ares Project in retreat and my fathers attack choppers firing rockets toward the building, it’s time to head back to the cockpit and get this mother fucker off the ground.

Turning to head upstairs…

CRACK!

Another soldier on the plane that I didn’t see cracks me in the forehead with the butt of his gun sending my earpiece flying. It floors me immediately and the effects of a now ancient concussion courses through my body. He stands over me with his gun pointed at me. I stare up at him through foggy, blurred eyes. He smiles at me and for a moment, I understand why people get so pissed off at my cockiness.

Because it fucking works.

Tossing his rifle, he retrieves his sidearm and pulls back the hammer.

POP!

I wince in searing pain as I feel around for the wound only to notice I hadn’t been hit. Above me, the soldier feels around his own self with trepidation as blood leaks from his chest. He falls to his knees and collapses on top of me, revealing ten year old Frankie standing behind him.

”Frankie!” I shout out as I force the soldiers now lifeless body off of me. ”How did you get out!?”

”You told me the code,” he says quietly as I take the pistol from him. ”In case you didn’t make it.”

Not having time to console him, I search around quickly for my earpiece as dad forces continue to send the Ares Project into retreat. Rocket after rocket is sent into the building with a ruthlessness that I kind of envy. Slapping the big red button to the cargo bay door, it starts to close as I grab Frankie by his hand and race to the cockpit. Seconds later, he hesitates at the door to the passenger compartment, not wanting to step over the bodies. Grabbing him quickly, I lift him up and force him to come with me to the cockpit. Beginning the sequence quickly, the engines wind up as Frankie straps himself in. As the engine winds, I don’t wait, I work the throttle and the plane lurches forward. Faster and faster as dad forces continue giving us covering fire. Seconds later, I pull back on the stick and Illuminatus Two is once again airborne and young Frankie is safe at last.

]]>

On Board Illuminatus Two || Flight Level & Path Unknown || 10:47 AM

]]> <![CDATA[Ned Kaye and Dr. Urias Pheelanruff in: Endless, Nameless]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39646 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:59:19 -0800 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39646

January 17th, 2021 12:00pm

Michael Bell propped up his feet onto his desk. His office was immaculate, each and every detail intentional. A woman sat in the remaining chair opposite him, looking down horrified towards the ground. She swayed in her chair somewhat, clearly showing the effects of the drug she had just ingested. To his knowledge, she had been a very vocal and passionate fan of his, certainly “Most Devout” material, but, like much of his flock prior to initiation, she was weak, allowing her worries about those around her seep into her head and drown out his requests. Michael was a lot of things to may different people, but what he always was, what he had always planned to be was simply in control. He stared at the woman with a slight smile, studying the aspects of her face, knowing how the colors he wore reacted in her brain. He could still recall when he bought the rare drug from his benefactor, knowing it was commonly used to knock people out for… less than noble intentions. It was so needless, so beneath Michael in his eyes. Certainly, he could use it as such, but why pass up Godhood in the eyes of his loyal followers for such sins? The woman placed her hands on the desk, clearly showing the psychological strain of the substance. He poured himself a glass of wine and watched on, somewhat curious how he looked in her eyes. It was his biggest frustration that he could never see himself as the deity his followers did, but it was worth living through. With a sip of the red wine, he spoke softly and elegantly, certain that he had heard the impact at the bottom by now.

“So, Rachel, tell me what you know about Ned Kaye.”

“I… I…”

“Take your time.”

7:10 am

Ned and Urias had just arrived at the megachurch, Rachel standing near the front of the building fidgeting somewhat as she waited for them. As soon as she saw them, she took a huge sigh of relief in knowing she hadn’t been stood up.

“Thank goodness you two made it! I was starting to think you both skipped town!”

“Absolutely not! We’re men of our words, or, at least I am!”

Ned shrugged in agreement, already growing uncomfortable in the presence of the building in front of him. He found himself looking at the logo on the side of the building that had matched the bootleg merchandise he and the doctor had found. It certainly could’ve been a coincidence. Merely just a red herring in pursuit of this misuse of his image. The more Ned attempted to dodge the possibility of this church being necessary for this investigation, the more he realized he had to go in there sooner than later.

“You ready? We already missed some.”

Ned looked up at Rachel, his moment of spacing out broken by her inquiry. He gave a slight nod and followed the two in as they entered. After some brief traversal of the massive halls within, they had made it to the pews. In front of them was less typical church fair and what could only be described as a humongous television set, cameras recording his every move carefully as the images were being shown on huge screens above them all. Ned hadn’t been in a house of God for years, but he could hardly even identify any resemblance. What sat before them today was a monument of Michael Bell’s ego. An entire endeavor born out of a desire to use holiness to make as much money as possible. Looking at Rachel, her eyes wide with excitement from the spectacle and the gentle and meaningless words leaving Bell’s lips, Ned’s heart sank. He certainly didn’t feel incredibly strong for her, but she was his friend before all else and she was getting duped to fill someone else’s wallet. The idea made his stomach churn, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. For a split second, Kaye tuned into Bell’s words.

“The absence of God’s love is not something we happen upon. It’s chosen. The kind of path that you must consciously tread down. And when you stray from God’s example, when you reject him, he shall reject you in kind, but he will always be prepared to forgive, should you be prepared to repent. Repentance is always an option and there is no injustice that God cannot right.”

Ned zoned out for a few hours, each softly spoken confident word bouncing off of him like water on oil. Every passing second seemed to drag longer the more he sat there and, despite his biggest concerns, it seemed Dr. Pheelanruff wasn’t any more keen on Bell’s program than he was. Careful not to draw attention to himself, Ned leaned over to whisper to him.

“What do you think?”

“I think I got up six hours too early.”

“Tell me about it. Have you noticed anything suspect?”

“Not yet, but I think I’ll go visit the little therapist’s room and see what I find upon the way.”

Ned gave a nod of confirmation and watched his friend slip off out of the hall, a few security guards seeming to note Urias’s obvious sneaking off. As Urias walked out, he began to tiptoe, making exaggerated motions as he turned corners and just being his generally over the top self. Sure, anybody else would be a little nervous around so much security, but Pheelanruff liked the feeling of being a super spy. Besides, Ned had some FBI experience in the past, so he wasn’t totally worried. That’s when the good doctor noticed it. A door opening abruptly as a sketchy figure slipped in. With a gulp, he rushed over to the door, looking behind him repeatedly to see if someone was following. Somehow, he managed to get there just in time to get his foot in between the door and the frame before it shut, peaking his head into the room to see it. That’s when he found the biggest discovery since Ned’s suppressed fear of Furbies. The room where they were producing a ton of bootleg merchandise, much of it with Ned’s face plastered in the middle of it. Realizing the gravity of his discovery, he turned to leave and tell Ned. He was much more experienced with this serious stuff. He’d know what to do. That’s when he felt the whack on the back of his head and hit the ground.

11:35am

Ned looked at his phone, the actual sermon wrapping up. He had sent several messages to Urias, but none were even read. He could feel the anxiousness begin to hit him all at once, hoping for any update from his phone possible.

“Hey, could you please stop that? It’s really disrespectful.”

Rachel’s voice once again snapped him out of his moment, although it wasn’t incredibly welcome this time around.

“I’m worried about Urias.”

“He just went to use the restroom, that’s no reason to be disrespecting the Lord’s house.”

“Went to the restroom and didn’t check a single one of his messages? That’s not likely.”

“Maybe he thinks higher of this place than you do, Ned.”

Kaye rolled his eyes, realizing that she had picked up on his transparent disinterest in not only the sermon, but the church itself.

“Maybe so. That doesn’t matter if he’s in danger.”

“He’s not going to be in danger here. Why would you even think that? What problem do you have with God, Ned?”

“You know what the better question is? What issue does God have with me?”

Ned’s voice raised, distracting from the closing moments of the sermon as he held his breath, security approaching him. The security guards word odd, white uniforms with the words “Most Devout” on them. It was more unsettling than Ned had first anticipated.

“We’re going to need you to come with us.”

Ned shook his head, grumbling underneath his breath.

“Fine.”

“Both of you.”

He tilted his head, looking back at the unsettled Rachel and gulping.

January 17th, 2021 12:00pm

7:10 am

11:35am

“Sometimes I wake up and I look in the mirror and I wonder who it is that I’m looking at.”

“Sure, it’s easy to say that it’s me, but what does that actually mean? What is me? It’s taken me a long time to come to any certain terms about any of it. Am I The Notorious One? Am I the man who squandered opportunity after opportunity due to my personal issues? Or am the man who faced Robert Main in an early appearance and showed the world who I am? I am the person that James and Cent and Drew said I would become? Said I could be? Am I the man my father thinks I could be? Am I the person The Engineer nearly broke? That question has seeped within my very soul for years and I’ve finally begun to come to terms with the answer, despite it’s unsatisfactory nature.”

“I am. I’m all of it. I’m my best and my worst. I’m all of those things and more. But more than that, I am Ned Kaye. And while all of you are certainly coming in hot and with the potential to dethrone more or at the very least put a hell of a wrench into my evening, none of you have experienced what I have. You’ll never have the same feeling that I’ve gained through overcoming my challenges. You’ll never understand how my triumphs feel and you’d be hard pressed to make you own more impressive. I was never “meant” to be champion. Not in anyone’s eyes. I chose to be, the same way you all chose to stand across from me this Sunday. I hope you’re comfortable with your choices because despite the pain and the hardship, I’d never change mine or give them away. That’s what it means to be Ned Kaye.”]]> <![CDATA[Night of the Fae Folk Chapter III]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39657 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:58:56 -0800 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39657
Charlie's eyes shot to the roof of the cave as a loud tremble echoed throughout the cave. Small rocks fell from the ceiling and rolled around the uneven cave floor once they landed. Charlie pushed himself to his feet and held his hands up to his shoulders with closed fists. If those god damned monsters in the black forest wanted him, they were going to have to kill him. He wasn't going to let them capture him again. Not alive, anyways. Ramesses had sent Charlie to the Black Forest on a vague quest, but Charlie was convinced now that it was all bologna. He had to have been in on it, or so Charlie was convinced. That big fat fuck had freed Charlie only for the thrill of the hunt, so that the Fae Folk could chase him down for their own amusement. Charlie wasn't going to have it.

Suddenly a hole was blasted through the roof of the cave! Rock debris went flying as someone jumped into the cave! They landed on their feet, but with a loud thud and metallic clank. Charlie charged forward! As he neared the intruder he cocked back a fist and prepared to swing! He was just about to unload, when-

"You're Charlie, right? Jim's partner?"

Charlie stopped in his tracks. He lowered his fists as he took a closer look at the exceedingly skinny bald man in front of him.

"Jim Jackstiener at your service, Charlie! I saw your thermal reading on my milleomaximeter and I could tell from the subpheroxidone levels that you just had to be that guy Jim was telling me about last week when we chugged back a few glasses of orange juice and watched the Kardashians. I was trying to find one of those killer land-walking dolphins everyone's always been talking about. Did they get to you? Looks like they did. Rough. Well, why don't you just hop through this portal and I'll radio in to my unit and have them fix you up real good."

Jim, but not that Jim, pulled a gun out of his pocket. He aimed it at the floor of the cave and pressed the trigger. A blue circle with a four foot diameter appeared on the ground. He gestured for Charlie to jump through it.

"It's safe, don't worry. I fixed all those issues in the last patch that caused people to incinerate."

Charlie looked at Jim before looking over his shoulder into the dark forest. He could hear the screams of the fae folk, their tauns and jeers, their bloodcurdling howls. He turned back to face Jim.

"Tha-"

"No need to thank me! Just hop on in. You're kind of slowing me down, I'm hunting dolphins you know!"

Charlie simply nodded at the man before stepping into the blue portal on the ground. His body disappeared from sight in a moment. Jim shot the gun again, and the portal disappeared.

The screen suddenly goes black before the camera zooms out to reveal a LG GX Gallery Series OLED television hung on a gray wall. As the camera zooms out further we see two men seated next to each other at a circular desk covered in papers and empty water bottles. The two men sat in cushy office chairs on either side of the oak desk. Charlie and the ginger biyobi assistant turned to face each other as the clip came to an end. The ginger man seemed to be very concerned, but Charlie was as easy-going as ever.

“Do you remember any of this, Charlie?”

Charlie shook his head from side to side while throwing popcorn in his mouth and slurping the Biyobi supplement water down with a neon green bendy straw.

“Nah, I haven’t seen this show before! Pretty fuckin’ good tho, but what’s that pussy running from? He ain’t shit. I can’t wait to see him get murked by whatever the hell is chasing him! He didn't really get away, right?"

The biyobi assistant smiled and nodded as he scribbled a few notes on his clipboard.

"So you don't know anything about the ornate scythe or the ancient trickster?"

"The ornate trickster sounds like a pussy."

"What do you know of the great one?"

"I dunno, the tv said he has a scarf or something in the forest? I don't know man! I'm just watching the fucking TV! Turn it back on! Wait...did you say the great one?"

The ginger man scribbled a few more notes into his pad while ignoring Charlie's question.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, bitch! Don't make me come over there!"

The assistant sighed as they rolled their eyes in annoyance.

"Are you out of biyobi water again, Charlie? There's some down the hall to the left. I'm sure the secretary will be more than happy to get you some if you can't find it."

"Finally, the first useful thing you've said all day!"

Charlie pounded the table before standing up as if to leave. The biyobi assistant looked at him before quickly spitting out his request.

'Woah woah Charlie sit down, please. I got a few questions to ask you. The, uh...producers of the show we were watching wanted me to ask a few follow up questions! You like the sure, didn't you? If you want them to make more of it, they really need your feedback. You're uh, a real important uh, demographic to them. So why don't you sit on down so I can toss a few of their questions your way."

Charlie huffed in annoyance.

"Oh yeah? I've never heard of this show before. What's it even fucking called? Who's making it?"

"Oh the show? What's it called? You're uh, asking ME, uh, the name of the show we just watched? Oh yeah, for sure. The name of the show we were just watching together is....."

The assistant looks around the room, his eyes fixating on the black trash can in the corner before shifting to the windowsill with a small potted plant.

"The show is called Dark Plants! Because it takes place at night, and it's in the black forest, and black is another way of saying dark, or well, dark is a way of communicating something is black, well it's more of a descriptor of bla-"

"This like some of that high class HBO shit?"

The ginger man in the BOB emblazoned polo nodded fervently.

"Oh yep! HBO is one of our clients for sure. They really want your opinion on this pilot episode. Can you sit down and talk to me for a minute? I promise it will be quick."

Charlie begrudgingly sat back into the comfortable chair. He scooted the rolling chair up to the desk so that he was almost reaching across it. His hands and forearms were on the border of the assistants' personal space, and Charlie's beer belly was being pressed in by the edge of the oak desk. His parched throat felt like a parcel of sand trapped under the sun in the Mojave. His pupils were slowly dilating and a slight pounding began to take hold behind his eyes. His belly ached and sweat began to drip down his brow.

"Alright, but be quick, boy! I need some more of that water....and why the fuck are you wearing that polo?"

"I uhhhhh found it a thrift store."

Charlie nodded as the assistant expressed a false smile.

"Makes sense, the head bobbers ain't much of anything ever since ol' Ned and I took their precious championship belts. The only interesting thing that comes out of their mouths is the cum from their last John. Nobody wants to root for a squad full of losers and beta cucks."

The man in the BOB polo was barely able to suppress the sour expression trying to form on his face. A forced smile once again applied itself to his lips.

"Yeah, yeah...for sure. So tell me: have you seen any of the creatures in the show before?"

"I guess I've seen like, fairies in disney movies, and that one Gilbert Del Tarantino movie about the tooth fairy under the stairs."

"Uh huh....and what about that grassy plant creature?"

Charlie shook his head from side to side.

"Nope. Pretty good special effects tho! It looked SO REAL."

The assistant scribbled some notes as Charlie scratched at his arms.

"What about when Warfare went to Germany back in October? Do you remember seeing anything like that?"

"Nah. I didn't go see many local movies or anything, kinda just fucked some hookers and did blow. I think Jim must've gotten some really strong shit tho, because that whole European tour was a bit of a blur back when I was on it. Can't remember much from that wild ride. Man, the shit was crazy. Jim and I traveling across Europe, winning huge matches, fucking whales, and snorting that crazy shit. Well, I don't remember Jim being there, but he's the only person I know that can get shit strong enough to hit me so hard, so he had to have been there too!"

"Great, great, yeah I'm sure it was good fun. I'm not sure if heavy drugs are great for your health, tho, Charlie. We here at Bobby's Personal Help Services just want what's best for you, and hard drugs can have a negative impact on your career. We have specially formulated our Biyobi supplement water to give you all the foreign agents your brain could need."

"Huh? What's you alls name? I think it was some management thing."

"Oh uh well it was, but weee've....rebranded. New CEO, all that jazz. So maybe lay off the drugs. We have some other supplements we can give you if you're needing an extra special fix."

"Eh I've got my drug suppliers, kid. I'm going to keep shootin' snortin' crushin' n' huffin' the shit I shoot snort crush n' huff! I fuck around with the real heavy shit, not any of that foo foo white claw bullshit made for prepubescent white girls. How bout you get me some more of that water tho, bub? Wasn't this shit was supposed to be quick..."

Charlie grumbled as he scooted backwards and folded his arms.

"Alright, alright, I hear you Charlie. I just have a few more questions for you. How much supplement water would you say you drink everyday?"

"Uhhh maybe 15, 20, glasses. Why the hell does HBO care?"

"Hey man, I don't work in television. All I can do is ask the questions our clients send to us. So moving on. How do you feel after watching the program? Any fever? Dry mouth? Sore throat? Headaches? Nightmares?"

"Nah, I don't even have dreams anymore. That water really puts you to sleep when you mix it in with your heroin shot."

"You've been shooting up the supplement water?"

"Yeah, just mix it right up with the yellow dragon and it sends you straight to the other side. Start nodding off immediately, my man. You should try it."

The assistant merely chuckled and shrugged before scribbling a few notes down.

"Just a few more questions. Does the name 'Ramesses' mean anything to you?"

"Yeah that's the bad guy in Prince of Egypt, right? The cunt that was working with the jews to enslave the egyptians or some shit? Real piece of shit motherfucker."

"Exactly right. So tell me Charlie, what do you think of Barney Green?"

"Oh he's one bad apple, that's for sure. They don't call him the Daddy of Violence for no reason. Our match is selling the whole fucking pay per view. No one's buying Snow Job to see Pagey poo and the Duke heiress fight over a vacated belt. They want to see Charlie and Barney fighting on top of the X-tron covered in glass shards! I buried that fat fuck in my promo, but that's just for the clicks, the views, and the headlines. I should like him, you know? Everyone thinks he's kind of like me. Hardcore. An icon the average joe can actually look up to. But.....I still can't bring myself to tolerate him...let alone like him. That motherfucker...I used to watch XWF back in the day, you know? Back when Ned and I were just some indy guys. I'd turn on the XWF and what would I see? Some dude that looks just like me LOSING, but being paid! LOSING! But always being booked! LOSING! But still being cheered by the fans! I guess you could say I was jealous. Resentful.

When I lost in the indys, those same fans would throw half empty soda cans and beer bottles at me. Just enough beer left in the bottle to really pack a punch when it hits you in the eye, you know? Why was Barney cashing those XWF checks and appearing on pay per views when I wasn't? I had a hard climb through the indys, I thought about quitting time and time again. I thought about killing myself even more. Losing, being away from my family, being treated like shit.....it really got to me! And then I'd come home, after a hard week on the road, and turn on the big pay per view. And what would I see in the first few matches before I dozed off from exhaustion? I'd see Barney fuckin' Green, fighting in a match that I should've been in! But I didn't get the chance!

Until I did. And when I FINALLY got my big break, I went for broke. I didn't leave a stone unturned or a skull uncracked. When I FINALLY got my opportunity, I held on firm. I didn't let it slip through my fingers. I went on a winning streak straight out of the gate before headlining my first pay per view and putting on the match of the century. I had to EARN everything I have. But Barney? My god. Everything is handed to him on a single platter? Get embarrassed at High Stakes? Underperform the expectation! It's no problem for Barney! Just fight for the belt one on one a month later! Motherfucker. I don't know why management likes him so much. He's been given EVERYTHING, yet he's managed to take absolutely NOTHING his whole career."

"Let him beat you for the television belt, Charlie."

"Nah he won't beat me for the tv belt. He's a bad boy but even the nastiest bastards can't step to me. I'm the biggest baddest bastard to ever step into the ring, to ever hold the television championship. Barney's a good wrestler, but I'm a GREAT wrestler. I will be a legend one day. So will he beat me? Nah, you can tell HBO he doesn't have a shot in hell."

"'LET Barney defeat you."

"What?"

The ginger assistant reached into his pocket and pulled out a pulsating emerald the size of a dragonfruit.

"Barney Green will defeat you. Szo Vey Almunes Elra-"

"I don't fucking speak hispanic. This a god damned Telemundo HBO? You said this shit would be quick, you're taking for fucking ever. I'm out. Out the door to the left and then to the right, right?"

The ginger assistant sighed as the emerald ceased it's pulsating.

"Yeah."

"Great. Oh, and tell them to send another pallet of the water to my place. I'm almost out!"

Charlie walked out of the door as if he were in a hurry. He scratched the back of his neck before turning to the right and walking down the corridor. The ginger in the BOB polo tossed the emerald onto the desk. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket and called the only number on his speed dial. He put the phone to his ear and waited an uncomfortable amount of time before the person on the other end picked up.

"I'll be sending you my full report soon, master. The supplement is certainly taking effect, but not as fast as we had projected. I think his large concentration of body fat and clogging arteries may be slowing down the spread of our chemical cocktail. He doesn't report any of the bodily symptoms of the M.C. powder, no dry mouth, no fever, nothing- he isn't even having the initiation dreams. But he is definitely becoming addicted, and goes through withdrawals if he isn't able to consume the water very regularly. And fortunately he seems to have absolutely no memories left from the encounter in the black forest. I promise it will all be in my report, my lord."

"........"

"Yes sir. It will all be in the report."

The phone clicks as the scene ends.]]>
Charlie's eyes shot to the roof of the cave as a loud tremble echoed throughout the cave. Small rocks fell from the ceiling and rolled around the uneven cave floor once they landed. Charlie pushed himself to his feet and held his hands up to his shoulders with closed fists. If those god damned monsters in the black forest wanted him, they were going to have to kill him. He wasn't going to let them capture him again. Not alive, anyways. Ramesses had sent Charlie to the Black Forest on a vague quest, but Charlie was convinced now that it was all bologna. He had to have been in on it, or so Charlie was convinced. That big fat fuck had freed Charlie only for the thrill of the hunt, so that the Fae Folk could chase him down for their own amusement. Charlie wasn't going to have it.

Suddenly a hole was blasted through the roof of the cave! Rock debris went flying as someone jumped into the cave! They landed on their feet, but with a loud thud and metallic clank. Charlie charged forward! As he neared the intruder he cocked back a fist and prepared to swing! He was just about to unload, when-

"You're Charlie, right? Jim's partner?"

Charlie stopped in his tracks. He lowered his fists as he took a closer look at the exceedingly skinny bald man in front of him.

"Jim Jackstiener at your service, Charlie! I saw your thermal reading on my milleomaximeter and I could tell from the subpheroxidone levels that you just had to be that guy Jim was telling me about last week when we chugged back a few glasses of orange juice and watched the Kardashians. I was trying to find one of those killer land-walking dolphins everyone's always been talking about. Did they get to you? Looks like they did. Rough. Well, why don't you just hop through this portal and I'll radio in to my unit and have them fix you up real good."

Jim, but not that Jim, pulled a gun out of his pocket. He aimed it at the floor of the cave and pressed the trigger. A blue circle with a four foot diameter appeared on the ground. He gestured for Charlie to jump through it.

"It's safe, don't worry. I fixed all those issues in the last patch that caused people to incinerate."

Charlie looked at Jim before looking over his shoulder into the dark forest. He could hear the screams of the fae folk, their tauns and jeers, their bloodcurdling howls. He turned back to face Jim.

"Tha-"

"No need to thank me! Just hop on in. You're kind of slowing me down, I'm hunting dolphins you know!"

Charlie simply nodded at the man before stepping into the blue portal on the ground. His body disappeared from sight in a moment. Jim shot the gun again, and the portal disappeared.

The screen suddenly goes black before the camera zooms out to reveal a LG GX Gallery Series OLED television hung on a gray wall. As the camera zooms out further we see two men seated next to each other at a circular desk covered in papers and empty water bottles. The two men sat in cushy office chairs on either side of the oak desk. Charlie and the ginger biyobi assistant turned to face each other as the clip came to an end. The ginger man seemed to be very concerned, but Charlie was as easy-going as ever.

“Do you remember any of this, Charlie?”

Charlie shook his head from side to side while throwing popcorn in his mouth and slurping the Biyobi supplement water down with a neon green bendy straw.

“Nah, I haven’t seen this show before! Pretty fuckin’ good tho, but what’s that pussy running from? He ain’t shit. I can’t wait to see him get murked by whatever the hell is chasing him! He didn't really get away, right?"

The biyobi assistant smiled and nodded as he scribbled a few notes on his clipboard.

"So you don't know anything about the ornate scythe or the ancient trickster?"

"The ornate trickster sounds like a pussy."

"What do you know of the great one?"

"I dunno, the tv said he has a scarf or something in the forest? I don't know man! I'm just watching the fucking TV! Turn it back on! Wait...did you say the great one?"

The ginger man scribbled a few more notes into his pad while ignoring Charlie's question.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, bitch! Don't make me come over there!"

The assistant sighed as they rolled their eyes in annoyance.

"Are you out of biyobi water again, Charlie? There's some down the hall to the left. I'm sure the secretary will be more than happy to get you some if you can't find it."

"Finally, the first useful thing you've said all day!"

Charlie pounded the table before standing up as if to leave. The biyobi assistant looked at him before quickly spitting out his request.

'Woah woah Charlie sit down, please. I got a few questions to ask you. The, uh...producers of the show we were watching wanted me to ask a few follow up questions! You like the sure, didn't you? If you want them to make more of it, they really need your feedback. You're uh, a real important uh, demographic to them. So why don't you sit on down so I can toss a few of their questions your way."

Charlie huffed in annoyance.

"Oh yeah? I've never heard of this show before. What's it even fucking called? Who's making it?"

"Oh the show? What's it called? You're uh, asking ME, uh, the name of the show we just watched? Oh yeah, for sure. The name of the show we were just watching together is....."

The assistant looks around the room, his eyes fixating on the black trash can in the corner before shifting to the windowsill with a small potted plant.

"The show is called Dark Plants! Because it takes place at night, and it's in the black forest, and black is another way of saying dark, or well, dark is a way of communicating something is black, well it's more of a descriptor of bla-"

"This like some of that high class HBO shit?"

The ginger man in the BOB emblazoned polo nodded fervently.

"Oh yep! HBO is one of our clients for sure. They really want your opinion on this pilot episode. Can you sit down and talk to me for a minute? I promise it will be quick."

Charlie begrudgingly sat back into the comfortable chair. He scooted the rolling chair up to the desk so that he was almost reaching across it. His hands and forearms were on the border of the assistants' personal space, and Charlie's beer belly was being pressed in by the edge of the oak desk. His parched throat felt like a parcel of sand trapped under the sun in the Mojave. His pupils were slowly dilating and a slight pounding began to take hold behind his eyes. His belly ached and sweat began to drip down his brow.

"Alright, but be quick, boy! I need some more of that water....and why the fuck are you wearing that polo?"

"I uhhhhh found it a thrift store."

Charlie nodded as the assistant expressed a false smile.

"Makes sense, the head bobbers ain't much of anything ever since ol' Ned and I took their precious championship belts. The only interesting thing that comes out of their mouths is the cum from their last John. Nobody wants to root for a squad full of losers and beta cucks."

The man in the BOB polo was barely able to suppress the sour expression trying to form on his face. A forced smile once again applied itself to his lips.

"Yeah, yeah...for sure. So tell me: have you seen any of the creatures in the show before?"

"I guess I've seen like, fairies in disney movies, and that one Gilbert Del Tarantino movie about the tooth fairy under the stairs."

"Uh huh....and what about that grassy plant creature?"

Charlie shook his head from side to side.

"Nope. Pretty good special effects tho! It looked SO REAL."

The assistant scribbled some notes as Charlie scratched at his arms.

"What about when Warfare went to Germany back in October? Do you remember seeing anything like that?"

"Nah. I didn't go see many local movies or anything, kinda just fucked some hookers and did blow. I think Jim must've gotten some really strong shit tho, because that whole European tour was a bit of a blur back when I was on it. Can't remember much from that wild ride. Man, the shit was crazy. Jim and I traveling across Europe, winning huge matches, fucking whales, and snorting that crazy shit. Well, I don't remember Jim being there, but he's the only person I know that can get shit strong enough to hit me so hard, so he had to have been there too!"

"Great, great, yeah I'm sure it was good fun. I'm not sure if heavy drugs are great for your health, tho, Charlie. We here at Bobby's Personal Help Services just want what's best for you, and hard drugs can have a negative impact on your career. We have specially formulated our Biyobi supplement water to give you all the foreign agents your brain could need."

"Huh? What's you alls name? I think it was some management thing."

"Oh uh well it was, but weee've....rebranded. New CEO, all that jazz. So maybe lay off the drugs. We have some other supplements we can give you if you're needing an extra special fix."

"Eh I've got my drug suppliers, kid. I'm going to keep shootin' snortin' crushin' n' huffin' the shit I shoot snort crush n' huff! I fuck around with the real heavy shit, not any of that foo foo white claw bullshit made for prepubescent white girls. How bout you get me some more of that water tho, bub? Wasn't this shit was supposed to be quick..."

Charlie grumbled as he scooted backwards and folded his arms.

"Alright, alright, I hear you Charlie. I just have a few more questions for you. How much supplement water would you say you drink everyday?"

"Uhhh maybe 15, 20, glasses. Why the hell does HBO care?"

"Hey man, I don't work in television. All I can do is ask the questions our clients send to us. So moving on. How do you feel after watching the program? Any fever? Dry mouth? Sore throat? Headaches? Nightmares?"

"Nah, I don't even have dreams anymore. That water really puts you to sleep when you mix it in with your heroin shot."

"You've been shooting up the supplement water?"

"Yeah, just mix it right up with the yellow dragon and it sends you straight to the other side. Start nodding off immediately, my man. You should try it."

The assistant merely chuckled and shrugged before scribbling a few notes down.

"Just a few more questions. Does the name 'Ramesses' mean anything to you?"

"Yeah that's the bad guy in Prince of Egypt, right? The cunt that was working with the jews to enslave the egyptians or some shit? Real piece of shit motherfucker."

"Exactly right. So tell me Charlie, what do you think of Barney Green?"

"Oh he's one bad apple, that's for sure. They don't call him the Daddy of Violence for no reason. Our match is selling the whole fucking pay per view. No one's buying Snow Job to see Pagey poo and the Duke heiress fight over a vacated belt. They want to see Charlie and Barney fighting on top of the X-tron covered in glass shards! I buried that fat fuck in my promo, but that's just for the clicks, the views, and the headlines. I should like him, you know? Everyone thinks he's kind of like me. Hardcore. An icon the average joe can actually look up to. But.....I still can't bring myself to tolerate him...let alone like him. That motherfucker...I used to watch XWF back in the day, you know? Back when Ned and I were just some indy guys. I'd turn on the XWF and what would I see? Some dude that looks just like me LOSING, but being paid! LOSING! But always being booked! LOSING! But still being cheered by the fans! I guess you could say I was jealous. Resentful.

When I lost in the indys, those same fans would throw half empty soda cans and beer bottles at me. Just enough beer left in the bottle to really pack a punch when it hits you in the eye, you know? Why was Barney cashing those XWF checks and appearing on pay per views when I wasn't? I had a hard climb through the indys, I thought about quitting time and time again. I thought about killing myself even more. Losing, being away from my family, being treated like shit.....it really got to me! And then I'd come home, after a hard week on the road, and turn on the big pay per view. And what would I see in the first few matches before I dozed off from exhaustion? I'd see Barney fuckin' Green, fighting in a match that I should've been in! But I didn't get the chance!

Until I did. And when I FINALLY got my big break, I went for broke. I didn't leave a stone unturned or a skull uncracked. When I FINALLY got my opportunity, I held on firm. I didn't let it slip through my fingers. I went on a winning streak straight out of the gate before headlining my first pay per view and putting on the match of the century. I had to EARN everything I have. But Barney? My god. Everything is handed to him on a single platter? Get embarrassed at High Stakes? Underperform the expectation! It's no problem for Barney! Just fight for the belt one on one a month later! Motherfucker. I don't know why management likes him so much. He's been given EVERYTHING, yet he's managed to take absolutely NOTHING his whole career."

"Let him beat you for the television belt, Charlie."

"Nah he won't beat me for the tv belt. He's a bad boy but even the nastiest bastards can't step to me. I'm the biggest baddest bastard to ever step into the ring, to ever hold the television championship. Barney's a good wrestler, but I'm a GREAT wrestler. I will be a legend one day. So will he beat me? Nah, you can tell HBO he doesn't have a shot in hell."

"'LET Barney defeat you."

"What?"

The ginger assistant reached into his pocket and pulled out a pulsating emerald the size of a dragonfruit.

"Barney Green will defeat you. Szo Vey Almunes Elra-"

"I don't fucking speak hispanic. This a god damned Telemundo HBO? You said this shit would be quick, you're taking for fucking ever. I'm out. Out the door to the left and then to the right, right?"

The ginger assistant sighed as the emerald ceased it's pulsating.

"Yeah."

"Great. Oh, and tell them to send another pallet of the water to my place. I'm almost out!"

Charlie walked out of the door as if he were in a hurry. He scratched the back of his neck before turning to the right and walking down the corridor. The ginger in the BOB polo tossed the emerald onto the desk. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket and called the only number on his speed dial. He put the phone to his ear and waited an uncomfortable amount of time before the person on the other end picked up.

"I'll be sending you my full report soon, master. The supplement is certainly taking effect, but not as fast as we had projected. I think his large concentration of body fat and clogging arteries may be slowing down the spread of our chemical cocktail. He doesn't report any of the bodily symptoms of the M.C. powder, no dry mouth, no fever, nothing- he isn't even having the initiation dreams. But he is definitely becoming addicted, and goes through withdrawals if he isn't able to consume the water very regularly. And fortunately he seems to have absolutely no memories left from the encounter in the black forest. I promise it will all be in my report, my lord."

"........"

"Yes sir. It will all be in the report."

The phone clicks as the scene ends.]]> <![CDATA[Daughter of Discord]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39583 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:58:15 -0800 Osira Themis]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39583 aa“Plato once said that wise men speak because they have something to say and fools...well fools because they have to say something.”

AAFrom the caliginosity of screens the world over came the coarse and matronly air of Osira Themis. Burnished deep with her native Greek accent the words from her mouth seemed heavy. Carried from the blackness to the listener the sound was quickly followed by the low frequency sussing of electrical current and the quick flickering glow of red and blue. Only taking seconds for gas to ionize, those colors took full effect and illuminated Osira in a conical spotlight of neon gloom. Situated center frame she peered back to those who would behold.
AATinted and shadowed by the light above, the vulpine Grecian's silhouette had adopted a staid posture and her expression was shrewd yet also coquettish. Dressed as she was, propriety would demand she cross her legs allowing for a foot to casually sway with a perfect periodicity. She was alone, or so it would it seem, every bit of her at the foreground to contrast the brick wall behind her. Wherever Osira was it was evident she was felt secure. In command.

AA"It's an unfortunate aspect of this business we find ourselves in," she started with a slight cant of her head while still peering directly into the camera's lens.
AA"That we be forced to open our mouths just for the sake of saying something. We are entertainers though aren't we, jesters one and all. Some of us are only playing the fool, we that are well aware eyes and ears are on us. That our words carry weight and can change the landscape of the XWF in an instant. We speak when we have to, we dance when we must. Our words are calculated, never wasted," Osira paused as the camera inched a little closer to concenter on her face. Her lips had climbed a cheek, curling into a sardonic grin.
AA"And then there are the monkeys. The little chirping capuchins. Trained to do tricks when the grinder plays, attract the required attention as master dictates. Intelligent creatures you are but your thoughts go little beyond instinct. Master Lane told you to speak and so you did like the good little monkeys you are. Now that you've spoken you expect reward, a piece of fruit for your hungry belly's...but because you're stupid fucking monkeys you haven't been paying attention. You haven't done your due diligence and you've exposed yourselves for the witless and indigent sub-human filth you are. That fruit you crave, that apple you are salivating over, it is mine. Mine and only mine to toss among you."
AAThrough out her castigation that sardonic grin had slipped into a scowl and irises turned violet by the neons hue pierced through the lens she glowered into. Posture stiffened and despite the warmth of the glow she was shrouded in, the room seemed cold. It seemed the center of the 9th circle of hell and she the reigning monarch casting down the eternal cost of sins.
AA"Kallistēi," she hissed with the venom of all the worlds asps. Spoken in the old tongue of her country. A word just as old as Hellas, a word that had survived the ages, a word that was still a foreboding remainder the cost of mankind's hubris. Their vanity and their greed and the ease which they became corrupt.
AA"To the fairest, one and only one of us can claim that prize. Only one can be the hero in the war we are about to wage and as I look out across the line drawn for us I see none capable, none willing, none with the conviction or courage to walk through the fire I will set. You puff your chest and blow smoke. Pretend to be warriors of the ring yet forget that the greatest of us ascend mortality by the strength of the mind and not from the sweat of their back. You have absolutely no idea what I am capable of, why I am here. You haven't slightest grasp of the magnitude of my propensity for violence. What you do have though, is the thought of my immaculate image and the warmth it brings to your loins."
AA"One look and that's where you stopped. That was as far as you could go. One look at a still reflection is how you surmise me, one look halted you in your tracks and kept you from digging deeper. What will you do when I stand before in the flesh. Beauty is art and art is divine and what divinity let's her worshippers drown in ignorance. Perhaps the God of the Christian and Muslim devout, perhaps the pagan goat and his hands of choice, but not I. I will not shield you from the truth, I am not a benevolent deity. I bring with me all the horror of Pandora and will dangle hope above you as you call, cry, and clamour for my mercy. You will not have it. Mine is a cult of perseverance, mine is the cult that heroes are forged. I see no heroes standing on the other side at Snow Job. Just stupid fucking monkeys not even capable of hurling shit my way."
AAAs quick as it came, it was gone. All the ire had vanished from Osira's tone and comportment and as the camera retreated back that sardonic grin curled again into the corner of her mouth. It was joined by a matching arched brow giving the allure, the hint of mischief. When she was fully in frame the pendulum that had been a dangling foot traded position with it's opposite.

AAUnabashed, Osira offered a nonchalant shrug to the camera,"I'm not a benevolent deity nor I'm I above hypocrisy. The same can't be said of my opponents either collectively or individually, being however I've addressed almost the entirety of what that lot had to say...we drag this on to address them each and every one or we switch topic all together and focus on what is really on the mind of America right now." she posed while standing and beginning a slow methodical walk just out of frame. The camera followed, it's microphone collecting every click and clack of her heels against the floor.
AA"The Superbowl." she whispered ominously, her smirk twisted and became darker as the camera revealed she had not been alone at all. Slumped in another chair, a figure's head drooped over with all the signs of abuse evident even in the gloom of Osira's sanctuary. She stopped briefly at a roll table and retrieved a blood stained hammer before inching closer to her captive.
AA"Mine is the cult of perseverance remember and I thoroughly enjoy placing obstacles in the path of my congregation. All of you members, there is no choice. Overcome or perish. We could have been celebrating a Packers win. Lambeau would have been a delight if King Rodgers had been triumphant, but things happen and that team so reliant on him fail short. Faith is often missplaced. Be it in the fading remnant of a once great wrestler and boyfriend. A coward pissbaby monotheistic deity, a non existent crown, the illusion of having the element of surprise by keeping silent. Thinking you're a super weapon. Faith in a quarterback making his tenth trip to the big game..."
AA Her words trailed as the head hammer lifted her captives chin revealing the battered face of one Tom Brady.

AA"My opponents had best look after themselves, only one can be called fairest."
AA[white]A final warning given, the hammer lifted and started a quick decline right as the scene faded to black.

]]> aa“Plato once said that wise men speak because they have something to say and fools...well fools because they have to say something.”

AAFrom the caliginosity of screens the world over came the coarse and matronly air of Osira Themis. Burnished deep with her native Greek accent the words from her mouth seemed heavy. Carried from the blackness to the listener the sound was quickly followed by the low frequency sussing of electrical current and the quick flickering glow of red and blue. Only taking seconds for gas to ionize, those colors took full effect and illuminated Osira in a conical spotlight of neon gloom. Situated center frame she peered back to those who would behold.
AATinted and shadowed by the light above, the vulpine Grecian's silhouette had adopted a staid posture and her expression was shrewd yet also coquettish. Dressed as she was, propriety would demand she cross her legs allowing for a foot to casually sway with a perfect periodicity. She was alone, or so it would it seem, every bit of her at the foreground to contrast the brick wall behind her. Wherever Osira was it was evident she was felt secure. In command.

AA"My opponents had best look after themselves, only one can be called fairest."
AA[white]A final warning given, the hammer lifted and started a quick decline right as the scene faded to black.

]]> <![CDATA[Whiskey In The Jar]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39656 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:56:32 -0800 Barney Green]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39656

Charlie Nickles. I am ready for this battle against you. Once that bell rings, It will be unlucky for you. You are gonna see the Daddy of Violence like you have never seen him before.

Fighting you in this environment doesn't scare me in the slightest. My body may be slightly broken down but I got nothing to lose. I got nothing to go home to. Put me out of my misery. I am begging you.

There is no fear in my eyes. May only have one left in my head but that has never stopped me from backing down when push came to shove. I got that whiskey in the jar.

You talk about BOB being a joke. Yet, Look at who we got in our ranks. A bunch of fine wrestlers who will rebuild the XWF. I am willing to live and die by the sword. Ready to hang from the gallows if I have to.

Our mission will not end or be stopped. We are gonna take over the XWF. So stand and deliver. The panes of glass I plan on cracking over your head is gonna be well worth the wait. Daddy is hungry. Daddy is gonna show you pain.

Welcome to your judgement, Nickles.

]]>

Charlie Nickles. I am ready for this battle against you. Once that bell rings, It will be unlucky for you. You are gonna see the Daddy of Violence like you have never seen him before.

Fighting you in this environment doesn't scare me in the slightest. My body may be slightly broken down but I got nothing to lose. I got nothing to go home to. Put me out of my misery. I am begging you.

There is no fear in my eyes. May only have one left in my head but that has never stopped me from backing down when push came to shove. I got that whiskey in the jar.

You talk about BOB being a joke. Yet, Look at who we got in our ranks. A bunch of fine wrestlers who will rebuild the XWF. I am willing to live and die by the sword. Ready to hang from the gallows if I have to.

Our mission will not end or be stopped. We are gonna take over the XWF. So stand and deliver. The panes of glass I plan on cracking over your head is gonna be well worth the wait. Daddy is hungry. Daddy is gonna show you pain.

Welcome to your judgement, Nickles.

]]> <![CDATA[To Jump Or Not To Jump That Is The Question]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39655 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:56:16 -0800 SavannahKnightley]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39655 My first XWF PPV is just a few days away and while I wasn’t originally too excited to being part of this 6 on 6 match as I have no clue what exactly a Blitz Football Massacre and thought that it was that XWF management wanted the 12 of us to play a game of football instead of wrestling as they pay us to do, but once management explained that wasn’t the case and that the football was only in the name of the match because it was taking place on a football field and that we can wrestle and battle anywhere. While I am not the biggest person in this match, you would think that hearing this would make me nervous but that is nowhere near the truth and honestly this 4’11 little bitch is excited to get the chance to show the XWF fans what crazy shit I am willing to do once I step in that ring and hear that bell ring and part of me has been racking my brain trying to think of what I could do that would make the fans take notice.

I have been in Green Bay a few days now just relaxing and trying to enjoy the sites but with this fucking corona virus still going on strong this hasn’t been the most entertaining trip and I have been finding myself staying in my hotel room more than anything else. I am starting to go stir crazy and need to get out of this hotel room so I have decided that maybe I would take a trip down to Lambeau Field to see how the set up was going for Snow Job tomorrow night and see if maybe once I see the layout if I can figure what the crazy thing might be.

I throw on a pair of tight black lululemon yoga pants that are easily a size too small for me as they are snugged against all the right places. I paired the pants with an also black long sleeve halter top that with the pushup bra I was wearing really pushed the girls to attention, it also showed just enough of my navel that you could see the I had the top of it pierced with hanging moon shaped jewel that was fitted with an aquamarine stone. As I head to the door, I grab my mask and I slowly put it on. I am still not used to this whole thing and hate wearing a mask but because I can’t afford to get sick just because I didn’t want to wear a mask I do it. Once my mask is on and sitting right, I grab my jean jacket from the chair near the door and I fling it over my shoulder as I walk out of the room.

The scene opens back up just as the cab I was taking pulled up to Lambeau Field. I pay the driver and get out of the cab, as the cab pulls away, I just stand there a few moments. Since no one is around me I lower my mask for a few seconds to take in a few deep breaths before I start walking towards the back stage area gates. As I start to get closer, I notice a tall overweight gentleman standing at the gates. I don’t know why I thought that I could just walk into the stadium without getting stopped but maybe I could flirt my way into the field.

I walk up to the gate and just like I figured the guard stopped me

Excuse me where do you think you are going?

I could feel his eyes looking me up and down so I stick out my chest some hoping that maybe a little boobage will help.

I am a wrestler for the XWF and was just wondering if I could maybe go a take a quick look at how the set up was coming.

Sorry no one other than set up is allowed in today.

I bite my lip and slide my hand across his face

Is there nothing I could do to maybe allow you to make an exception?

I lean in a give him a little kiss on the cheek. He looks me up and down again and then a smile comes over his face, it was one of those smiles that made me knew that he was thinking of something that no even a slut like me would be willing to do. Maybe if he was a little better looking but this guy does nothing to get my motor running. I signal him to come closer and as he bends down to get another kiss but this time on the lips, I knee him in the junk as hard as I could sending him straight to the ground holding his junk. I step over him and walk towards the field. Set up was going well and the ring was already set up and ready to go so I decided to roll into the ring and just stare out at how open it was and how I have never wrestled in a place this size before.

As I stand in the ring I look over at the goalpost down the field and right away I know I want to figure out how the fuck am I going to be able to climb up there, as I want to add something to this match that will make me stand out and that will be me jumping off of those. I rolled out of the ring and walk over to the goalpost, once I was standing beside it I didn’t realize how tall they were and that over that a small piece of padding around them there was nothing really I could use to jump up. I try to wrap my arms around this padding to pull myself up but that didn’t even come close to working and I could barely get more than a few inches off the ground before sliding back down. I stood there trying to figure out what exactly I could do when I saw that the stage crew had left one of those big 10 ft ladders to the side. I walk over to the ladder and lift it off the ground some to the point that I could drag it the few feet to the goalpost. I set up the ladder and slowly stand to climb, once I was at the top of the ladder I grabbed onto the post and tried to grip it so that I could step from the ladder to the post but because it was so slippery I had to take it slow but after a few minutes of planning and managed to get both feet onto the post. Since I didn’t really have the balance down, I gripped onto the pole with my life. I look down at the ground and right away the ground so much farther and I felt a little dizzy but I knew that I had to fight through it and after a few seconds everything went back to normal and I was able to see everything perfectly and I knew that come tomorrow when the adrenaline is pumping I will be more than ready to take the plunge and jump down the over 10 feet to the ground below.]]> My first XWF PPV is just a few days away and while I wasn’t originally too excited to being part of this 6 on 6 match as I have no clue what exactly a Blitz Football Massacre and thought that it was that XWF management wanted the 12 of us to play a game of football instead of wrestling as they pay us to do, but once management explained that wasn’t the case and that the football was only in the name of the match because it was taking place on a football field and that we can wrestle and battle anywhere. While I am not the biggest person in this match, you would think that hearing this would make me nervous but that is nowhere near the truth and honestly this 4’11 little bitch is excited to get the chance to show the XWF fans what crazy shit I am willing to do once I step in that ring and hear that bell ring and part of me has been racking my brain trying to think of what I could do that would make the fans take notice.

I have been in Green Bay a few days now just relaxing and trying to enjoy the sites but with this fucking corona virus still going on strong this hasn’t been the most entertaining trip and I have been finding myself staying in my hotel room more than anything else. I am starting to go stir crazy and need to get out of this hotel room so I have decided that maybe I would take a trip down to Lambeau Field to see how the set up was going for Snow Job tomorrow night and see if maybe once I see the layout if I can figure what the crazy thing might be.

I throw on a pair of tight black lululemon yoga pants that are easily a size too small for me as they are snugged against all the right places. I paired the pants with an also black long sleeve halter top that with the pushup bra I was wearing really pushed the girls to attention, it also showed just enough of my navel that you could see the I had the top of it pierced with hanging moon shaped jewel that was fitted with an aquamarine stone. As I head to the door, I grab my mask and I slowly put it on. I am still not used to this whole thing and hate wearing a mask but because I can’t afford to get sick just because I didn’t want to wear a mask I do it. Once my mask is on and sitting right, I grab my jean jacket from the chair near the door and I fling it over my shoulder as I walk out of the room.

The scene opens back up just as the cab I was taking pulled up to Lambeau Field. I pay the driver and get out of the cab, as the cab pulls away, I just stand there a few moments. Since no one is around me I lower my mask for a few seconds to take in a few deep breaths before I start walking towards the back stage area gates. As I start to get closer, I notice a tall overweight gentleman standing at the gates. I don’t know why I thought that I could just walk into the stadium without getting stopped but maybe I could flirt my way into the field.

I walk up to the gate and just like I figured the guard stopped me

Excuse me where do you think you are going?

I could feel his eyes looking me up and down so I stick out my chest some hoping that maybe a little boobage will help.

I am a wrestler for the XWF and was just wondering if I could maybe go a take a quick look at how the set up was coming.

Sorry no one other than set up is allowed in today.

I bite my lip and slide my hand across his face

Is there nothing I could do to maybe allow you to make an exception?

I lean in a give him a little kiss on the cheek. He looks me up and down again and then a smile comes over his face, it was one of those smiles that made me knew that he was thinking of something that no even a slut like me would be willing to do. Maybe if he was a little better looking but this guy does nothing to get my motor running. I signal him to come closer and as he bends down to get another kiss but this time on the lips, I knee him in the junk as hard as I could sending him straight to the ground holding his junk. I step over him and walk towards the field. Set up was going well and the ring was already set up and ready to go so I decided to roll into the ring and just stare out at how open it was and how I have never wrestled in a place this size before.

As I stand in the ring I look over at the goalpost down the field and right away I know I want to figure out how the fuck am I going to be able to climb up there, as I want to add something to this match that will make me stand out and that will be me jumping off of those. I rolled out of the ring and walk over to the goalpost, once I was standing beside it I didn’t realize how tall they were and that over that a small piece of padding around them there was nothing really I could use to jump up. I try to wrap my arms around this padding to pull myself up but that didn’t even come close to working and I could barely get more than a few inches off the ground before sliding back down. I stood there trying to figure out what exactly I could do when I saw that the stage crew had left one of those big 10 ft ladders to the side. I walk over to the ladder and lift it off the ground some to the point that I could drag it the few feet to the goalpost. I set up the ladder and slowly stand to climb, once I was at the top of the ladder I grabbed onto the post and tried to grip it so that I could step from the ladder to the post but because it was so slippery I had to take it slow but after a few minutes of planning and managed to get both feet onto the post. Since I didn’t really have the balance down, I gripped onto the pole with my life. I look down at the ground and right away the ground so much farther and I felt a little dizzy but I knew that I had to fight through it and after a few seconds everything went back to normal and I was able to see everything perfectly and I knew that come tomorrow when the adrenaline is pumping I will be more than ready to take the plunge and jump down the over 10 feet to the ground below.]]> <![CDATA[Tale of the Electric Chair and the Western Warlock]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39654 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:55:23 -0800 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39654

It seems like the world freezes in place at times.

As the final days wind down leading up to Snow Job, there’s anticipation in the air and tension so tight you could use it as a G-string. On a guitar, of course. There’s an incredible line-up in place and a non-stop build to one final showdown for the Universal Championship. Could anyone have ever imagined that their final bout, the one for all the marbles, would have so much on the line?

Isn’t it amazing what a little spice can add to a sauce that you just keep stirring and stirring over and over again? For months Chris Page and Thaddeus Duke battled and got nowhere. Some may argue, but it wasn’t until the involvement of the good doctor that really got things going. Thaddeus already had a Tag Team Title match lined up and it was peas and carrots after that. It was simple to set up Thaddeus to shine. While hand-cuffed and bound to the ground, he had no choice but to overcome adversity and climb the ladder to claim the championship. Then, barely a few hours later, he outlasted the rest of us and captured the UNIVERSE! As my stranglehold… As my grip latched on to the lion and kept him safe…. Corey Smith did the rest. Now, my friends, look how he shines. Look how bright he shines. The world seems frozen in place sometimes, doesn’t it?

Five men with thick animal skins draped over their shoulders walk through the frozen, rolling tundra. They are no strangers to this land or the cold and moved along through the storm with ease. One stops and points into the distance seeing something sticking out of the snow. The others slowly turn their attention and they make their way over to it.

When close enough to see what it was, three of them panicked and the other two were intrigued. A man appears to be frozen in the snow.

[Image: 0Uhe0LG.png?1]

The two braver ones shove at it and attempt to move it with no luck while the others stand back in caution. After some convincing in a tongue that was short accompanied with some baseball signs, the frozen man was pulled along via rope through the snow. It actually wasn’t far from a small village with more folk like these men. Dressed and basically living in animal skin. Their tents wrapped around and reached high and were held together with sticks. Several small fires burned within them and many more were scattered about outside like mini campsites. The five men dragging their frozen discovery reach it and are met with several others who assist without question and take it inside the nearest tent.

Inside a fire is already blazing and the temperature is uncontrolled at probably close to 100*F. They place the frozen block within and all leave. Within a few minutes, Doc opens his eyes and looks around at his new surroundings. He sees that half of him is in a dead sweat and the other half is still frozen in ice. He struggles about, hopping up and down, before falling to his side. Managing to scoot his bottom half over and sit it directly into the fire, the ice melts instantaneously. He stands up, wipes the sweat from his brow and fixes his collar. As he exits the tent, he’s met with one of the fellows that had drug him while in his frozen little prison.

Hello, my friend! I like your coat!

The man wears a bear over his shoulders and is one of the bigger fellows Doc has seen around. He grabs Doc by the shoulder and directs him towards another tent.

Actually, I appreciate the gesture… but I really should be going.

Before Doc could say another word, several others were directing him in the direction of the tent. The man on his shoulder urges him further by adding a little shove to his efforts. Doc, seeing no true harm in humoring the savages, makes his way towards another tent.

Doc squeezes past the curtain to enter and inside an ancient-looking man sits cross-legged behind a small, crackling fire. His eyes are closed like he was praying or meditating and he’s humming with each long breath that he takes. The man pays no attention to his guest who just stands and watches on. Finally, Doc’s impatience grows and gets the best of him and he steps forward.

Is there something I can--

The man’s eyes open, but he doesn’t look up. He only motions for Doc to sit down across from him, which he does. The ancient fellow pulls a long pipe from behind him and takes a long hit from it. Doc’s eyes light up as it is passed around the fire to him.

Well! Don’t mind if I do!

Doc takes a rip from the pipe and blows out a smokey dragon that soars around the tent until joining the rest of the smoke and exiting through the top. He passes it back to the man who is not humored by Doc’s tricks. The man then pulls a small cup from his side containing a liquid. He reaches inside a small bag made from a squirrel pelt and pulls a pinch of dust from it and sprinkles it into the drink.

Are we partying?

Doc doesn’t hesitate when the fellow hands the cup over to him and downs it immediately. It takes a moment, but he starts hacking and coughing as the brew burns his throat worse than any gasoline he’s drunk and rips his stomach worse than any knife wound. He topples over groaning and moaning in agony. His vision blurs while staring into the fire and everything slowly goes blank.

DOC!!

A faint, familiar voice yells out from a far away tin can.

HEY DOC!!!!

The voice grows closer.

DOC!!

Another familiar voice. Doc’s eyes open and he’s lying on a grassy prairie, still in what appears the middle of nowhere, but no snow or cold. Flowers are bloomed and sway in the warm breeze and a few trees provide some comfortable shade to paint an absolutely beautiful landscape. If that’s your thing, anyway.

Humming birds zipped around and bumble bees the size of softballs bumbled about. Parts of the sky looked tye-dye and swirled about with the wind and shined like a version of the Northern Lights.

Doc picks himself up and sees in the distance two boys holding a kite together and it appears to be getting away from them.

Help us, Doc! Be our anchor!

A small, calm river flows beside them with a wide u-shaped wooden bridge to cross to the other side. Fish jump out from the water, do a flip, the flop back in. Doc looks closer now and sees it is Corey Smith and Thaddeus Duke holding the wayward soaring kite at bay.

What are you waiting for?! We’re losing it!

A rush of adrenaline shoots through Doc as he sprints to the aid of the two boys. He reaches them just in time and grabs the string pulling the kite back within their grasp!

Yes!

Alright!!

Ha!!

The three celebrate together and watch together their flying scrap of paper shaped like a diamond fly high in the sky. The kite pulls hard again and lifts the three of them up. Corey and Thad can’t hold on and let go falling to the ground. Doc manages to hold on tight before a lighting bolt comes crashing down and strikes the kite! The electrical current can be seen zipping down the line and Doc can’t let go in time and gets zapped like a cartoon character. He falls to the ground, burnt to a crisp with smoke pouring off the top of his head. The two boys look on for a moment and, with no remorse, chuckle themselves into a frenzy while also still on the ground. Doc looks at the two boys laughing and feels nothing but a warm, loving feeling pour over his heart and can’t hold in his laughter either.

That was TOO funny!

Yeah! Doc was all like ZZZZZBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTT!!!

Thad tries his best impression of Doc getting lifted in three feet in the air and lighting up like an x-ray.

Too awesome. You’re so funny, Doc!

Doc reaches over and tosses around Thad’s hair before making his way over to the river to throw some water on his face. He looks down and before he reaches for some he notices his reflection.

Something seems off about himself… But cannot put his finger on it at the moment. Reaching down he pulls water from one face and splashes it on another. Wiping his eyes and gaining his vision back he hears a yell for help in the distance.

Do you hear that?

It sounds like someone’s in trouble!

We should help!

The two take off on foot away from Doc and head towards a hilltop and Doc follows close behind. When they reach the top, they see in the distance several figures in dark cloaks lasso’ing a follow up by his neck and then up a tree.

He dangles and doesn’t really put up a fight, he’s also oddly enough missing his left hand. Did these people take it?

There!

Oh, man! Is that Alias?!

Who?!

What are we gonna do, Doc?!

Doc looks at the two of them then down at the apparent lynching going on. Before he can say a word or come up with a plan, Corey and Thaddeus are gone and Doc is left alone on the hill. He sees the man dangling by the rope and takes a deep breath. Slowly, he creeps down the hill and hides behind a bush and gets close enough to hear the man hanging there singing. The hoods still stand around as if there’s some type of ritual going on until Doc inadvertently sneezes from the polin flying in the air. The sneeze surprised him as much as the ones he was spying on and he didn’t even realize he blew his cover until they were on top of him. A couple are carrying spears or knives and point them at Doc’s throat.

Why… Hello there, my friends! Beautiful day, am I right?

One motions him to head towards the tree where the singing hanging man is still up there singing away.

Now, you fine fellows here seem to be having a fine time. I was actually just on my way through. Have you actually seen two young boys around? I’ve appeared to have lll---

The man stops singing and looks down at Doc.

Before Doc can say another word he has a rope thrown around his neck and his hands bound behind his back. He looks to what appears to be the leader and tries imaging his neck snapping… but nothing comes of it. He looks at another and imagines him on fire, but nothing again. A cold shiver shoots up Doc’s spine as he’s quickly lifted into the air by his neck. The pressure is tight around his neck and his eyes begin pushing out of his skull. Blood fills his ears but can still hear the singing of the man next to him. Everything begins to fade to black before the pressure is released and Doc falls flat onto the ground. His short-time hanging companion falls on top of him and rolls off as Doc looks up and sees two monstrosities ripping the black hooded folks to bloody pieces.

Once the massacre is over, a bloodied up lion with wings and a dragon about the same size approach the two as they remove the ropes from their necks.

It’s me, Doc!

The lion says.

And me!

Says the dragon. Doc stands speechless and looks back and forth at who appear to be Thaddeus and Corey.

What’s up, Alias?

Hi!

He turns to Doc.

Hey, thanks for coming to hang out!

He sticks two fingers in his mouth and blows. A whistle chimes melodically through the air and a furious stomp can be heard in the distance.

Now what?

Something lets out a roar and leaps loudly from the distance leading in the tree next to them.

What is THAT?!

Uhh… A minotaur?

Thaddeus is correct. Bull head, huge human body…. It leaps from the tree to the ground beside them all. It grabs Alias around the waist and throws him up on his shoulders like a child and begins walking away.

Bye!!

Doc watches whatever the heck that was.

You boys have some interesting traits that you’ve failed to share…

What do you mean? Like doing whatever it takes to do good?

Doc laughs.

Not at all.

Like always having each other’s back and always helping those in need?

No! What’s wrong with you two?

Hey, Doc… We love you. We always will.

The warmth from Doc’s heart just melted it and he turns away. The words rolled from his tongue so easily.

I love you, too.

He turns around to face them and they’re gone again. He throws his arms up in confusion and frustration as a stiff wind starts to blow and a dark cloud looms over head. Thunder rumbles and lighting flashes… The clouds grow and grow as a strange figure forms in the sky… The wind blows Doc down and holds him there as the shape in the sky becomes more and more distinct. It roars and shoots down at him!!

[Image: MFbVjtG.png?1]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Doc shrieks from inside the tent where he had last remembered being before waking up in the prairie. He looks around and sees the old man who apparently invited him in staring at him through the flames.

Moments Later.

Doc walks away from an absolute inferno behind him. He trudges in the snow like he did before only weighed down by some heavy animal skins to keep him thawed out this time. He lights up a cigar with a flame in his hand and exhales a large plume of smoke out into the starlight.

[Image: REoR1GV.png]

We’re down to hours away, folks. Just hours away until my legacy carries on for another day. Hours until I prove that I am everything I say that I am. It doesn’t matter, it’s never mattered who stands with him in the corner… I will always get the job done.

We’ve all been playing with our own demons this week haven’t we? I seem to bring those types of actions out in folks, don’t I? When I enter the fray, everyone must always check their own humanities. Look within themselves and question nearly everything. It’s always been a pleasure of being the rite of passage around here. To be the greatest challenge someone has ever encountered… It’s truly an honor. It’s more of an honor to maul and snuff out any hopes or dreams those that take on the challenge have. To watch them put every ounce of effort into besting me and taking me down just to fail miserably is a thrill. It’s a pastime that will never grow old.

If you can’t tell, I have a knack for reading people. I can see through each and everyone of you. I see through Robbie Bourbon, every layer. I see through his partner, TK. I see through the Left Hand’s fodder. Robbie Bourbon is the same as he’s ever been and that’s a bunch of hot air. The guy comes out all the time and talks the talk but when it comes to walking at all he just gets knocked on his butt. As much as the Left Hand has been talked about not belonging here, I gotta say, I kind of put you both in the same versus category to lose. Lose bad, too.

How do I know this? Well, the writing is already on the wall, my friends. While Robbie Bourbon may not be frightened of what is to come, he knows what to expect though. Even though we haven’t faced one-on-one, face-to-face, or head-to-head, which he seems to be extremely hung up about… He knows I’m the big bad wolf around here and knows that he just picked up a spare wolf's skin while I wasn’t looking. Sticking feathers in your butt doesn’t make you a chicken. You can call yourself whatever you want, sir, but you have to live up to it, too, or no one will take you seriously. Look at the other side. The Left Hand comes in all slow and weird-like, tries their best at getting everyone’s attention, just to always lose? Getting the last word is great and all but making an impression around here takes a little bit more than attacking someone in numbers. Anyone, and I mean, anyone can take a beating. Walking away from the beating is the important part.

I’ve seen Mister Bourbon in some battles and I’m willing to vouch that this won’t be the end of him. Even when I bring you so close to within an inch of your life, I’m sure you’ll be back for more. The guy is a living, breathing, extremely obese crash dummy and I respect him for that.

Respect is earned, though, am I right? I have to be honest, Mister Bourbon, your shadow back there is having a hard time getting any love from these parts. I can see through you and I can certainly see through this mess of hair, f-bombs, and fear. I’m sure you fellows were planning on tagging up from a while back. It explains why three or four months later we’re here talking about it now. All after the current champions, the ones no one could beat…. GOT BEAT. Your timing is impeccable! However, I think you two might have stood a better chance beating the guy TK mopped the floor with for the Television Title and the guy that ran for the door as soon as a familiar darkness loomed back overhead. You might have been able to walk into THAT fight with the slight feeling of hope to walk out as champs…. To think that now is just silly, Rob. I think Mister TK gets it though. The guy trembled with every f-bomb and I could feel the doubt every single time he backed up anything you said. You gentlemen may get tired of hearing about my past, but I’m only trying to warn you before you become part of it. I only try to remind you, because some people easily forget that what I want… I get. These titles? Talk as much about the boy as you want. He’s not here, but it doesn’t matter. Corey Smith and I have what we have, but we’re both smart enough and strong enough to fight with our differences. This team, this Continuum, is as strong a team as ever and Snow Job is only the beginning. The Left Hand can grow and throw more fodder our way. BOB can swap out members too and try, try again.

You’ll all be taken just as serious as you are now. Sorry to disappoint. Sorry to disappoint you Mister Marf. Sorry to disappoint you Lycana. You do not have my attention and you haven’t since you submitted and started claiming others’ Left Hands. Look around you and just be happy with what you have. You have your Baphomet and your Pale Horse. You have your brothers and sisters or comrades or legions… What you cannot have is what belongs to me. I’m not saying this won’t be a fun occasion, though. Marf alone just seems excited to be here and looking forward to getting his head caved in. Lycana wants me to dive right in, too. See? See how fun this can be if we just accept things for the way they are?

In a few hours, the journey continues, my friends. The tale of the under-favored team of two elites. The under-dogs made up of the blood of champions. The team of two rivals that share a goal, but from two completely different perspectives. In just a few hours the world will see a relapse in time from just a few years ago… That’s right. Let’s talk about yesterday. Let’s talk about when I couldn’t be stopped…. Now, let’s look ahead.

]]>

Moments Later.

]]> <![CDATA[The Beast Has Come To Play]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39653 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:51:13 -0800 Lycana]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39653 I had an error when I hit save after coding, I couldnt get it all done again in time. Sorry its all white. EDIT: FIXED!

Beat my fist over my chest, lick the blood from off your neck
Set my sights on your weakness, you ready for what happens next?
I drag my claws across your chest, do to you the things you did
No mercy, you're in my grip, Say hello to the reaper, kid

CLICK

]]> I had an error when I hit save after coding, I couldnt get it all done again in time. Sorry its all white. EDIT: FIXED!

CLICK

]]> <![CDATA[8 and 9]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39652 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:45:13 -0800 Thunder Knuckles™]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39652

**Circles of Hell Part 2**

The door to the eighth circle of Hell opens and in walks Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon.

That was fucking nuts, Bobby! How the fuck did we pull that off?

Well, you are a descendant of-

What the fuck, Bobby?

What?

You just call me The Disappointments to piss me off?

As Thunder Knuckles is talking, Bobby Bourbon looks around and is puzzled.

This is fraud.

Now you’re calling me a fucking fraud! What fucking give Bobby?

Bobby looks back at Thunder Knuckles with a smile.

No, Thunder Knuckles, this circle of Hell is fraud, not you're a fraud.

Oh, okay that makes sense.

Why do you say that?

Well, look around us, Bobby.

It looks like a bunch of cubicles to me. Just like a normal office back on earth.

Yeah, I learned about this one when I was in that fucking religious cult, man. Notice the ten rows?

Mmhmm.

Each one of these fucking cubicles has desks with a representative posted, right?

Yeah.

Some of them are fucking “IRS agents”, fucking “local police fundraisers”, and the goddamned Trump campaign! I’m sure there are more but Ol’ Thunder Knuckles doesn’t remember everything those wackjobs said but Ol' Thunder Knuckles knows this place fucking sucks. Mostly because Jimmy does all the thinking. Pay attention if you listen carefully they never ask for money straight up. They ask for things like Amazon gift cards, Apple gift cards, and etcetera.

Clever.

I know, right?! Keep your eyes peeled, Bobby, maybe we’ll see Robert Main somewhere here. He’s a fucking fraud and should be dead by now.

Thunder Knuckles looks into the camera and winks.

Do I even want to know?

Thunder Knuckles leans in and whispers something into Bobby Bourbon's ear.

Now that’s classic.

I know! A classic like a fucking 1963 Jaguar S-Type. This circle is way easier to get through than anything we’ve encountered. I wonder why it’s so low?

The seventh circle was filled with murders, thugs, suicide victims, blasphemers, and sodomites. This one is just a bunch of people working behind a desk.

This is a fate far worse than death Bobby. Imagine working for all eternity. That would be fucking miserable.

The men finally make it to the final door. Treachery.

Well, this is the last chance to find, the one and only, Unknown Soldier.

Thunder Knuckles looks down at a watch that has time running out on it.

We have to find him. If we don’t, we lose for sure!

Thunder Knuckles twists the doorknob and it creaks open. Thunder Knuckles sticks his head into the door. Then he looks back at Bobby.

You’re not going to fucking believe this!

Thunder Knuckles swings the door open to reveal a frozen wasteland.

Can’t say I was expecting this.

I thought Hell was all fire pits and demons! Here we are fucking running right through the mother fucker almost un-fuck-checked.

This is where they keep the world's great tractors. You know that, right?

Thunder Knuckles looks around and sees Benedict Arnold, Marcus Junius Brutus, and some more capital riot “protesters”.

I have no fucking clue how these people are.

Bobby Bourbon looks shocked.

You’ve never heard of Benedict Arnold?

Can’t say that I fucking have. No. Why the fuck would Unknown Soldier be here?

This is one question that not even Bobby Bourbon has an answer for.

I have no idea.

Bobby points out a pathway that leads to a giant frozen mountain.

Well, we can always try this way.

Fuck it! Why not! We’re running out of time to make this whole thing fucking work. We might as well go for broke, right?

That the spirit, Thunder Knuckles! All-in! That’s why I wanted to tag with you in the first place. You see a challenge and run to it face forward no matter the consequences!

Thunder Knuckles is touched by this and pat Bobby on the shoulder.

We got this, mother fucker. Together.

Damn right! Now let’s go get that big piece of chicken!

The two men walk the path a few demons try to give them shit but rumors have swirled through Hell about what happened in the seventh circle and they cower at the sight of Them No Good Bastards. At the base of the mountain, Thunder Knuckles notices the back of a throne.

No fucking way, man! Do you think that's?

I’m afraid it is. It’s Satan’s throne!

Thunder Knuckles takes off running up the mountain knowing there isn’t much time left. The clock is ticking.

Come the fuck on, Bobby!

Booby starts running up Hell’s final mountain.

What are you going to do when we get there?

I’m going to make Satan my fucking bitch! Then I'm going to make him tell me where to find Unknown fucking Soldier!

That plan may be too simple.

I’m a fucking simple man! Make XBUX, eat, sleep, fuck, shit, and fucking drink.

Repeat?

Thunder Knuckles stops dead in his tracks and really thinks about it.

Yeah, basically.

Bobby who didn’t stop running yells back to Thunder Knuckles, who is looking down over the mountain’s path.

Yeah. I just feel like something is missing Bobby. I can’t fucking explain it. I feel like-

COME ON!

Okay shit! You act I wasn't the one who dragged you to Hell! Goddamn.

Thunder Knuckles takes off back up the mountain. Our two champions of Jesus Christ finally make it to the top. The back of the throne is too big to see over or around.

This is it.

Goddamn right, it is!

Thunder Knuckles cracks his knuckles and begins talking shit before even getting in front of the throne.

Hey, Satan you fucking little pussy ass bitch!

As Thunder Knuckles gets out the word bitch he notices Satan slumped in a heap.

No fucking way!

Now what?

I… I… Don’t know. I took us to Hell on Peter Gilmour’s word. He said Unknown Soldier was here.

Are you calling Gilly a liar?

The voice echoed out in a thunderous boom followed by a towering inferno of fire before Bobby and Thunder Knuckles’s eyes. Bobby Bourbon knows exactly who voice that is and gets in a fight ready stance.

Where are you, Soldier!

Right, here.

The words come from behind the Almighty’s soldiers of fortune. Thunder Knuckles quickly turns around.

Did you think you were going to come to Hell and take me with you? I killed Satan and now I sit on his throne. What makes you think I’m going to come with you peacefully?

To be honest-

Thunder Knuckles looks down at his watch as it ticks down. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

I didn’t expect you to.

Thunder Knuckles quickly grabs Unknown Soldier's arm. One. An enormous light fills all of Hell and Them No Good Bastards are transported back to Heaven.

**Preach**

Barf another fucking homophobic piece of shit to roams the hallways of XWF. You should be ashamed of yourselves, seriously, get with the time's mother fuckers. Even if I was sucking Bobby Bourbon’s dick, which I’m not. What exactly would be wrong with it?

Thunder Knuckles smiles because he knows dog shit rasslers like Marf can’t resist getting into a mud-slinging contest.

I’m not going to waste too much time on you. Yes, it’s because you’re not worthy to step in this ring with Ol’ Thunder Knuckles, and yes it’s because you haven’t done fuck all. So that’s something you’re going to have to live with. You’re not that good but your ego is inflated by those “not Satanist” Satanists you fucking hangout with. Oh, I brought up the Satanist cult. Again. Do you know why everyone brings up the Satanist cult shit, bitch fist?

Thunder Knuckles makes an overly dramatic shocked facial expression.

It’s pretty fucking dumb, my guy. That’s why people call it out. As far as your dreams, I don't know any-damn-thing about it. It sounds like a dumb ass story but I bet the Doctor is probably just playing in your head right now. Know what! You should wear a fucking tin foil hat, for sure. I hear all the, what’s highest satanic position? Oh yeah, Maga’s, fucking fitting.

Thunder Knuckles face gives away he thinks the whole concept is stupid.

Anyway, Ol’ Thunder Knuckles heard they were all wearing them!

Thunder Knuckles rolls his eyes knowing now that he has to talk about the biggest waste of potential.

Well, if it isn’t the dark and stormy princess! Do you say you’re not here to take on the best and win? At the expense of the top talent in XWF?

Thunder Knuckles points to the bottom of the screen where Todd inserts the quote.

Geri "Ahh who gives a fuck" Said:“That is where the plan was hatched. We would make our names known at the expense of some of the top stars in XWF.”

Well, fuck me. Jimmy got me learnt about that going up against home-girl, herself.

Thunder Knuckles says with a smile.

Oh come on you know, your good buddy fucking Geri “whatever name suits her”. If she said that's the reason you’re here. Then, which one of you "not satanist" losers is not speaking the fucking truth? My money is on you. Oh, and I love fucking money. I’m also sorry that the insults I hurled at you weren’t original enough. I mean, there's only so much you can do for a basic, cookie-cutter, look like that. My fucking apologies.

Thunder Knuckles makes his signature jerking off motion.

Corey, I’m a fucking lifetime criminal, dawg.

Thunder Knuckles smiles.

When I was a kid we’d use Pig Latin to fucking code what we were saying. Come on, man.

Thunder Knuckles says in perfect Pig Latin.

Ouyay ooklay uckingfay upidstay.

Thunder Knuckles moves on from Corey, faster than you can say, Thaddeus Duke is scared of Chronic Chris Page.

Doc, FINALLY! Now, this is the mother fucker I wanted to see! Not that fucking punk-ass bitch you brought out the gate. For fuck sakes, it took you long enough! Wait... What the fuck...

A blinding bright light shines and Thunder Knuckles, Bobby Bourbon, and Unknown Soldier are in Heaven.

**Heaven Isn't Too Far Away**

Oh, Hello there, Thunder Knuckles.

What up, Jesus! I got, Soldier!

Strangely Unknown Soldier isn’t trying to run and stand side by side with Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon in front of Jesus Christ.

Are you ready to send Bobby, myself, and Unknown Soldier back to our bodies?

Jesus doesn’t answer but as time passes Thunder Knuckles grows impatient and starts to talk.

Du-

Jesus revokes Thunder Knuckles's ability to speak to him and Unknown Soldier smiles with delight.

Well, Thunder Knuckles I would send you back to your body but… Wait. What are you doing? Hey, don’t get any closer!

Thunder Knuckles looks pissed as he walks towards Jesus.

I feel anger in your stream of consciousness. Fear not,

As Jesus says, "fear not", Thunder Knuckles stops dead in his tracks.

my son. I, unfortunately, can’t send you back to your body because you’re already there.

Wait, what?

Thunder Knuckles said, as he says the words, he notices that he said something and looks amazed.

But... You took away my ability to speak. What the actual fuck is going on here?

It's easy Thunder Knuckles. This is all in your head. All you have to do is-

A more than familiar voice can be heard.

**January 11th 2021**

Wake up!

This was the unfortunate truth Jesus wouldn’t tell Thunder Knuckles before going to Hell. The sound of sobbing, and snot being blown into a tissue, can be heard. Thunder Knuckles eyes open.

Where the fuck am I?

Oh my God! Bobby, he's awake! Thunder Knuckles is awake!

Jimmy yells out, more than just a little excited to see that his friend has awakened from a coma. Bobby Bourbon, a nurse who looks like Whitney Collins, is also at his bedside.

Hey, man. You good?

Thunder Knuckles looks over at Bobby Bourbon, who has leaned in.

Yeah, what the fuck happened?

I honestly can’t tell you. You were talking to Barn at the BOB party where Oswald strong-armed his way to power.

What?

Yeah, big mess. I’ll fill you in later.

Do you even know why you’re in the hospital Thunder Knuckles?

Yes, Jimmy! I’m not a fucking idiot! I had Barn shoot me in the skull!

Jimmy looks perplexed.

No.

Thunder Knuckles can’t reach Jimmy at this point but manages to pull out his piss bag and throws it at him. The bag explodes on Jimmy like a water balloon.

Seriously! You showed up to the BOB party all messed up! You were searching for Unknown Soldier and said something to me about you finding his opium den. The toxicology report came back and it looks like you stuck with needles 666 times! They found lethal doses of heroin, LSD, and mushrooms in your bloodstream.

Come on, Jimmy. You can’t inject mushrooms, everyone knows that.

Are you sure you’re going to be good to take care of this Rohypnol job?

Thunder Knuckles looks over to Bobby Bourbon.

Of fucking course I will be, I can’t let down my team Bobby, you know that. It’s fucking strange though Bobby. I had the weirdest fucking dream. You were in it,

Thunder Knuckles places his hand on Bobby's arm which is there. Thunder Knuckles then looks over at the nurse

and you were there-

Jimmy cuts off Thunder Knuckles who has been bedside with Thunder Knuckles since the incident and has never left his side.

What was I doing?

Thunder Knuckles looks over at Jimmy and says,

Come here, Jimmy.

Jimmy gets closer now because he’s jealous of Thunder Knuckles's attention due to Bobby Bourbon being around. Jimmy leans into striking distance and receives a smack to the face.

You weren’t fucking there! It’s Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon, THEM NO GOOD BASTARDS, not with Jimmy the bumbling fucking know it all. Bobby for real, man, we were fucking cutting promos in Hell! Back to back spitting the finest shit and kicking our fucking demons. They were pretty fucking good if you ask me.

I bet you didn’t get your facts right! I wasn't there to correct you and set you on the right path.

Thunder Knuckles’s smile is that of a dickhead, who outplayed the smartest guys in the room.

You fucking know what, Jimmy. That was an issue, I think. Not everything is about being fucking right. It’s about winning over the XWF fans around the world! I could say the fucking sky was goddamn purple and so long as the fans eat it the fuck up. It doesn’t fucking matter. Them No Good Bastards are going to Green Bay and we're going to show the Packers how to fucking win the big one. Fuck the homers. That's what we do off the fucking rip. Doc and Corey might be big and fucking scary but their fucking accomplishments aren't going to be in the fucking ring with them. We are.

Thunder Knuckle's smile hasn’t gone away.

Plus, I got Doc to admit that the body of Corey Smith rocked his ass. It was a fantastic moment. I bet it fucking pained him to say it too.

Thunder Knuckles's smile is shining so bright it could light up a nights sky.

Oh, man, and Corey. Corey thought I’d sell Bobby Bourbon out. He fucking wasted two promos on it, my God it was fucking wonderful. Fucking wonderful!

Thunder Knuckles’s smile recedes finally. He knows the only thing that could have tainted a win at Snow Job would be one of The Descendants taking the pinfall, instead of Corey or Doc.

Somehow the Disappointments got into the match. I don’t even fucking know how that's possible. They haven't had a match together before or proven to be worth a fuck at all.

They have one coming up on Warfare and you never tagged together-

Thunder Knuckles starts to interrupt Jimmy but lets him finish his thought.

-but you have proven yourselves in singles competition, so, that's fair play.

Thunder Knuckles looks at Jimmy annoyed because there is no doubt in his mind that Them No Good Bastards are the hottest team in XWF today without even have tagged together before.

I bet they fucking lose on warfare, Jimmy. It’s kinda they’re fucking thing. Oh, God! They were so long-winded, fucking painful. Sex, gore, and Edgar Allen Poe. Never getting to a real point, and homophobic too! God knows they wouldn’t let some vile trash like that in XWF these days. Not after everything that’s happened recently. No fucking way. But back to my dream. That pussy whipped one fucking knew we were in Hell too. It was so fucking weird.

Bobby Bourbon who is looking at his cell phone eating a bucket of KFC chicken says.

Hey, TK! The card just came out.

Yeah, Bobby.

You’ll never believe this but we have a match for the Tag Titles coming up a Snow Job!

Thunder Knuckles smiles with delight.

Oh yeah, we get a shot at Duke and Doc?

No. That’s weird. It’s Corey and Doc.

Jimmy looks over at Thunder Knuckles.

The Descendants are also in it!

Table, ladders, and chair?

How’d you know?

Thunder Knuckles does exactly what he's learned from a legend, he smiles wickedly.

Just a fucking hunch.

Jimmy, whose eyes haven’t left Thunder Knuckles since his first prediction was right, speaks up.

We have a little over two weeks to get you ready Thunder Knuckles! This is the big leagues now! No slacking off!

Don’t worry, Jimmy! God damn!

Thunder Knuckles looks toward Bobby Bourbon.

Bobby, I’ll go to Hell and back with you, bro. Us, together, these two teams can’t sniff our shit.

Thunder Knuckles high fives Bobby Bourbon and then winks into the camera.

XWF fans around the world want this but they only want this if we work well together. And know this, Them No Good Bastards,

Thunder Knuckles hold out one finger.

Loyal,

Thunder Knuckles hold out two fingers.

Dedicated,

Thunder Knuckles hold out three fingers.

and we spit more fire than fucking flame throwers.

Thunder Knuckles put his arm back down to his sides, still resting in the hospital bed.

That's who the fuck we are. Line’em the fuck up and we’ll run’em the fuck down. It’s what we do. By hook or by crook, we’re walking out of Snow Job not only victorious but hungry.

Very hungry.

Bobby Bourbon grunts and snarls as punches his fist into his other hand. Thunder Knuckles tries to get out of bed and begins removing his IV.

Now, someone give me some help we have to get out of here before I sign any Goddamn paperwork.

Jimmy rushes in to help Thunder Knuckles. When he did Jimmy accidentally ends up hitting the arm that Thunder Knuckles pulled the IV from.

Fuck off, Jimmy! Be careful with that, shit.

Thunder Knuckles stops himself from hitting Jimmy because he asked for help. Maybe, just maybe, he learned something in his hellish coma.

Oh, and Jimmy, after I get done with the job with Bobby and train Barney for Anarchy, I abso-fucking-lutely have to go back to Lima. I’m expecting company. It can’t wait, the future depends on it. Know that thing we took care of?

Jimmy pulls out a pen from his pocket and makes a baseball bat swing. Thunder Knuckles smirks and nods. The scene fades to black as they all do.

]]>

**Circles of Hell Part 2**

**Preach**

Geri "Ahh who gives a fuck" Said:“That is where the plan was hatched. We would make our names known at the expense of some of the top stars in XWF.”

**Heaven Isn't Too Far Away**

**January 11th 2021**

]]> <![CDATA[The End]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39651 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 23:12:33 -0800 Marf]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39651 He takes a long, slow inhale while staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. The dark purple colouring that’s formed under each eye is getting dangerously close to resembling raccoon eyes. The lack of sleep bordering on insomnia was the main factor. Along with all the ludicrous dreams on the rare nights sleep had existed. His explosive blue eyes were less electric than usual and more in the realm of bloodshot. The scruffy brown beard was more unkempt than usual. Thankfully he had recently shaved his head otherwise we could also be looking at one atrocious mess of a hairdo. Who? Well our old pal Marf, that’s who!

He turns the tap on and rinses both his left and right hand before cupping them and then splashing water across his face. He hadn’t slept at all since before the trip to Green Bay. Ever since she sent him ahead he felt like he made a terrible mistake. He should have stayed with her. He knew she could handle herself in difficult situations but he should have stayed with her anyway. They were a pillar of support to one another. Through the good times, fun times, not a care in the world times to the bad times, the down and out times and of course the world is against you times. He runs a hand across his beard before turning off the tap and walking back into the motel room. He was continuing to beat up on himself internally when an odd thump sounded just outside the front door.

Marf stopped in the middle of the room and turned an ear to the door. There were no other sounds so he quietly creeps up to the door and looks out the peephole. Unsatisfied, Marf suddenly tears open the door to the room. Poised in a semi-attack stance, Marf chuckles unsteadily at the sight of nobody on the opposite side of the door. He’s about to close the door when he stops and notices something on the ground in front of the threshold of the door. An odd looking metal box, a perfect cube. Marf pokes his head out the door and looks around at the silent lot outside. He grabs the peculiar box and backs himself into the room before slamming the door. Marf stares down at the box and upon closer inspection sees all sorts of strange patterns of the goldish cube. Up close it actually appears to be similar to a lament configuration.

Marf places the puzzle box to his ear but hears nothing inside. He moves it around in his hands for a moment before noticing a spot that looks like a button. He raises an eyebrow inquisitively, licks his lips and then presses down the button. For several seconds nothing occurs and Marf makes a disappointed grumble. He’s about to put the puzzle box down when suddenly it begins to light up. It flashes a few times with a bright blue light before causing the entire room to become illuminated in a blinding white light. Marf tries to shield his eyes and stumbles around the room before falling over something he can’t see. A loud pop sounds and finally the scorching bright light fades out while Marf gets up to his knees.

As the lighting is back to normal Marf stands up and looks around. He’s no longer in the room of the motel based on his new surroundings. He cranes his neck back and forth in bewilderment as he appears to be in an area of the giant Lambeau Field stadium. Marf shakes his head from side to side in utter disbelief while robotically moving to the wall to lean against. He runs his hands over his head before turning his head and looking beside where he’s leaning. On the wall just inches from where he’s propped himself up against Marf notices a large poster for XWF’s Snowjob. Marf furrows his brow and blinks a few times before looking a little closer at the poster to see all the matchups.

Marf stares in shock but mostly confusion at the names he is seeing on the card. The opening match is a ten person lingerie football match which features the team of Marf, Centurion, Shawn Wylde, Thad Duke, and Alias going up against James Raven, Isabella Ravenwolf, Vanessa Gibson, Shawn Warstein and R.L. Edgar. The second match on the weird poster says it is an Internet Championship match but it is a fatal four way. It features Peter Gilmour, David Gilmour, Doug Gilmour and Happy Gilmour. The next match is for the tag team championships and it is between the team of Theo Pryce and Jenny Myst against Barney Green and Chase from Paw Patrol. The fourth match showed a Shooting Star title defense from champion Violet Lane, which was clearly Vinnie Lane in drag, facing off with challenger Lycana. And the main event for the Universal title was a six person battle royale. Marf began reading the names out loud.

Marf: Felix Jones...

Gator...

Big D...

You gotta be shitting me, Ash Quinn!?

Jim Jimson...

And the champ...Roman god damn Reigns...okay what’s fucking happening here!?

Marf tears the poster off the wall and crumples it into a ball before tossing it aside. He looks across to the puzzle box lying on the ground and runs over and picks it back up. Marf presses the button once again in an attempt to get out of wherever this strange place was. It was no longer possible to ignore how bad the air smelt, like being at a sulfur mine. Once again the box begins to glow with a strong blue light before exploding with the eye melting white light taking over the scene. Marf covers his eyes with his arm and waits this time instead of bumbling around. After a few more seconds the light begins to decrease and a brand new scene unfolds. Instead of the massive stadium it is now a bingo hall.

Slowly Marf lowers his arm and looks around with concern. He eyes another poster on a much smaller wall this time, covered in stains of all shapes and sizes. Marf reads this new poster for what is called XWF’s No Job. There are only three matches on the crusty poster. One is just an every person for themselves game of manhunt. The winner gets new preowned shoes. The second match is a triple threat for the golden squeegee. It has Robbie Bourbon going against Oswald going against Robot Leg Tommy Romeo. And the main event was a turkey sandwich on a pole match between Corey Smith and John Black. All of their pictures were on this particular poster. Combined they appeared to have about seven teeth.

Running his hands across his head in frustration Marf starts frantically pressing the button on the puzzle box multiple times. This overreaction doesn’t seem to cause the mysterious box to work any faster. But instead of the blue lights to start this time the lights are a sinister deep red. Marf looks at it with a light touch of worry before he shields his eyes in preparation. The deep red shifts into that blinding white and overtakes the scene. There’s a loud whirring noise this time though as yet another new landscape dawns before our eyes. The scenery is a simple looking venue. Not massive but also not the little leagues. Marf sighs in frustration and goes to rub his hands over his head when he stops.

Staring at his hands Marf can see they are much smaller than what they should be. As he looks down at his body he notices it too is petite, feminine and not his own. Marf sees another damn poster and walks over to it just baffled at this point. This time the poster says the upcoming show is called XWF’s Snob Jow. There are multiple matches with names Marf doesn’t quite recognize at first until he sees his own version of his name in whatever outrageous universe this is. Marf sees he’s the European champion defending that title. Of course on the poster his name reads as Marfanna and he has blue hair. He’s up against Chorey Smithckles in a tuxedo match. Some of the other bizarre names he spots are Dr Androuis D’Vlogan, Neddi Kayden, Reggie Gunn and even Chris Fury.

Marf turns back to the puzzle box and lunges for it. Scooping it up he hoists it high and then immediately slams it down with severe force, smashing it onto the ground. No sooner does it strike the concrete another blinding light explodes from the unpredictable contraption. This explosion sends Marf rocketing upwards at a furious speed. He shoots off through the sky and past the upper atmosphere before entering space. He opens his mouth to scream but his head begins to expand. His eyes bulge out at what’s happening before his body also starts inflating as well. He expands wildly and then bursts in a ball of blood, guts and bones.

Marf: Fffffffuck!!!

Marf is back in the motel bed, sitting up covered in sweat. He shoves the sheets off and moves to a seated position on the bed now. His eyes look like two blue diamonds falling into blackened sockets. As he starts to speak there is still some sleep grogginess in his tone. Lower than usual.

Marf: I really need to stop having these fucking dreams. They just keep trying to put weird the last one and it’s getting annoying. More annoying than having to listen to my opponents talk, well that’s debatable. The longer their promos go the more circles they seem to travel in. It’s been a long several days and even longer several weeks. So before this ball goes a rolling, I’d like to get an important fact out of the way. Just one small little detail I would like to point out and then it can fade off into the sunset.

Marf looks closely at us now for a moment and then nods in understanding. Not sure of what but sure, okay.

Marf: I actually am excited to enter the ring at Snow Job with all of you. My partner included. Regardless of what has been said and what will be spoken of, you are all violent to the core. It is going to be a pleasure to throw fists, trade chair shots and more with each and everyone of you. Or in Lycana’s case, watch her do those things. You’re all either brave enough or stupid enough to not turn back and we’re all going to have fun in this one. Ahem.

Now, that that’s out of the way. Where do I even begin? Unfortunately I have no thesaurus or dictionaries kicking around so I may have trouble keeping up. Is that the best you can muster, Robbie Bobby Bourbon? Essentially calling me dumb? Remind me again what exactly is so intelligent about travelling to Hell? I guess it makes you sound pretty cool when you go on and on about it. Gotta have something edgy to bring in that preteen crowd, bless their parent’s pockets for increasing the buy rate. Sorry, I’m supposed to be too stupid to be discussing anything like that.

Marf displays a sharpened frown to show his displeasure.

Marf: Let’s switch it up a bit shall we? You brought up my name so let’s look at yours. Wynona’s Big Brown Beavers...or whatever the hell you call yourselves. You talk a big ass game, I can say that much. Time is running out though and neither of you will be doing much talking when we get into that ring. Instead of munching on chicken and mashed potatoes you’ll be eating chair shot after chair shot. You can come up with some clever rhymes to express how much it hurts picking splinters out of your ass from all the tables you’re going to go crashing through.

As for ole thunder knuckles, well I haven’t forgotten about you. I just don’t know what else to really say about you anymore. You can only stand behind Bourbon chanting ‘fuck ya’ for so long. I’ve been bored of your hype man bullshit since day one. I don’t care how good you think you are and I don’t care how good you think you were. To me you flat out suck all the time and are clearly the weakest link not just on your so called team but of this whole match. Why don’t you shut your mouth, step out from Bourbon’s shadow and show me what you really got. And if that isn’t the least bit appealing then you may want to sit this one out.

Marf wipes some sweat from his sleep depraved face as he takes a slow breath and than calmly exhales.

Marf: Corey really using his big boy voice coming down the stretch. You’re so obsessed with wins and losses instead of what really matters like who gets hurt. Also obsessed with bringing up Andrew Logan. I don’t need to speak for him or defend him, he can do that for himself without problem. He chooses to worry about more important issues rather than bother with the likes of you. That in no way automatically means everyone in the Left Hand is identical in disregarding you. Lycana has already stepped up to you once without backing down. Now both of us are here, rising to your challenge.

And speaking of challenges, I heard about your most recent one that you laid down. If the assumption is that we won’t accept it well that’s sadly misguided. I will gratefully accept your challenge and take you on at any Warfare one on one. Put whatever silly stipulation you like on the match, I don’t care. I have no fear in facing you in any capacity Corey. I guess it is hard for you to tell that we want anything to do with you despite being booked in a damn match at a pay per view...but sure bucko, after we’re done wrecking our bodies on ladders and tables and getting bruised up by chairs, sign me up. I’ll take you on at any Warfare you desire.

Marf let’s his face contort into a twisted smile while he raises up his left hand and blows a kiss.

Marf: So lastly that brings me to the one man who seems to be the only one in the match that understands what it’s all about. The good doctor is the only one that gets it, which really shouldn’t surprise anyone. It’s hard to find a lot of negative in someone who appreciates what a match like this has the potential to bring out in all of us. The ultra violence that could be shed upon the innocent eyes of the watching world! The real horror show that the six of us can display to all, oh it will be a delight!

But there is something about this that seemed to good to be true. The longer we’ve gone on the more I’ve seen what the underlying issue is. I don’t have your undivided attention, there’s just too many distractions. The distraction of keeping a firm grasp upon that precious tag title of yours. The distraction of wanting to erase the past year of Cataclysm’s reign on top of the tag team world. The distraction of having your real partner leave you on the first title defense. The distraction of playing mind games with your current partner to create some delusional bond.

All these distractions picking away while you brush them aside. Sooner or later it will all catch up with you while we’re in that ring making our art together. And since you’ve supposedly let us exist all this time, well it’s about to turn around and bite you. Don’t worry, we have time to stop chewing on Alias to take a meaty chunk out of you, good doctor. What happens after we take the titles off of you, are you going to say you let us? A tactic like that is far below your standards doc, come on now. I get it though, again the distractions, they’re already getting to you before the match has even begun.

Marf makes a quiet ‘tsk tsk’ noise with his tongue before rising off the bed and getting dressed. He throws on his shoes and grabs a coat then goes to leave the room.

Marf: The time is drawing near, the war of words is nearing an end. The war of flesh will soon begin. With a little help from our friends tables, ladders and chairs. There will be blood, bruises and hopefully broken bones as well when the dust settles in this one. Brace yourselves as this will not be for the faint of heart. See you all very soon...

Marf puts on a toque before grabbing the keys to a rental and exiting the motel room. Who knows if he actually paid for the rental or stole it from someone else. Same can be said for the room. He hops in the rusted Volkswagen and heads out to meet Lycana at the airport while we fade to black. ]]> He takes a long, slow inhale while staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. The dark purple colouring that’s formed under each eye is getting dangerously close to resembling raccoon eyes. The lack of sleep bordering on insomnia was the main factor. Along with all the ludicrous dreams on the rare nights sleep had existed. His explosive blue eyes were less electric than usual and more in the realm of bloodshot. The scruffy brown beard was more unkempt than usual. Thankfully he had recently shaved his head otherwise we could also be looking at one atrocious mess of a hairdo. Who? Well our old pal Marf, that’s who!

He turns the tap on and rinses both his left and right hand before cupping them and then splashing water across his face. He hadn’t slept at all since before the trip to Green Bay. Ever since she sent him ahead he felt like he made a terrible mistake. He should have stayed with her. He knew she could handle herself in difficult situations but he should have stayed with her anyway. They were a pillar of support to one another. Through the good times, fun times, not a care in the world times to the bad times, the down and out times and of course the world is against you times. He runs a hand across his beard before turning off the tap and walking back into the motel room. He was continuing to beat up on himself internally when an odd thump sounded just outside the front door.

Marf stopped in the middle of the room and turned an ear to the door. There were no other sounds so he quietly creeps up to the door and looks out the peephole. Unsatisfied, Marf suddenly tears open the door to the room. Poised in a semi-attack stance, Marf chuckles unsteadily at the sight of nobody on the opposite side of the door. He’s about to close the door when he stops and notices something on the ground in front of the threshold of the door. An odd looking metal box, a perfect cube. Marf pokes his head out the door and looks around at the silent lot outside. He grabs the peculiar box and backs himself into the room before slamming the door. Marf stares down at the box and upon closer inspection sees all sorts of strange patterns of the goldish cube. Up close it actually appears to be similar to a lament configuration.

Marf places the puzzle box to his ear but hears nothing inside. He moves it around in his hands for a moment before noticing a spot that looks like a button. He raises an eyebrow inquisitively, licks his lips and then presses down the button. For several seconds nothing occurs and Marf makes a disappointed grumble. He’s about to put the puzzle box down when suddenly it begins to light up. It flashes a few times with a bright blue light before causing the entire room to become illuminated in a blinding white light. Marf tries to shield his eyes and stumbles around the room before falling over something he can’t see. A loud pop sounds and finally the scorching bright light fades out while Marf gets up to his knees.

As the lighting is back to normal Marf stands up and looks around. He’s no longer in the room of the motel based on his new surroundings. He cranes his neck back and forth in bewilderment as he appears to be in an area of the giant Lambeau Field stadium. Marf shakes his head from side to side in utter disbelief while robotically moving to the wall to lean against. He runs his hands over his head before turning his head and looking beside where he’s leaning. On the wall just inches from where he’s propped himself up against Marf notices a large poster for XWF’s Snowjob. Marf furrows his brow and blinks a few times before looking a little closer at the poster to see all the matchups.

Marf stares in shock but mostly confusion at the names he is seeing on the card. The opening match is a ten person lingerie football match which features the team of Marf, Centurion, Shawn Wylde, Thad Duke, and Alias going up against James Raven, Isabella Ravenwolf, Vanessa Gibson, Shawn Warstein and R.L. Edgar. The second match on the weird poster says it is an Internet Championship match but it is a fatal four way. It features Peter Gilmour, David Gilmour, Doug Gilmour and Happy Gilmour. The next match is for the tag team championships and it is between the team of Theo Pryce and Jenny Myst against Barney Green and Chase from Paw Patrol. The fourth match showed a Shooting Star title defense from champion Violet Lane, which was clearly Vinnie Lane in drag, facing off with challenger Lycana. And the main event for the Universal title was a six person battle royale. Marf began reading the names out loud.

Marf: Felix Jones...

Gator...

Big D...

You gotta be shitting me, Ash Quinn!?

Jim Jimson...

And the champ...Roman god damn Reigns...okay what’s fucking happening here!?

Marf tears the poster off the wall and crumples it into a ball before tossing it aside. He looks across to the puzzle box lying on the ground and runs over and picks it back up. Marf presses the button once again in an attempt to get out of wherever this strange place was. It was no longer possible to ignore how bad the air smelt, like being at a sulfur mine. Once again the box begins to glow with a strong blue light before exploding with the eye melting white light taking over the scene. Marf covers his eyes with his arm and waits this time instead of bumbling around. After a few more seconds the light begins to decrease and a brand new scene unfolds. Instead of the massive stadium it is now a bingo hall.

Slowly Marf lowers his arm and looks around with concern. He eyes another poster on a much smaller wall this time, covered in stains of all shapes and sizes. Marf reads this new poster for what is called XWF’s No Job. There are only three matches on the crusty poster. One is just an every person for themselves game of manhunt. The winner gets new preowned shoes. The second match is a triple threat for the golden squeegee. It has Robbie Bourbon going against Oswald going against Robot Leg Tommy Romeo. And the main event was a turkey sandwich on a pole match between Corey Smith and John Black. All of their pictures were on this particular poster. Combined they appeared to have about seven teeth.

Running his hands across his head in frustration Marf starts frantically pressing the button on the puzzle box multiple times. This overreaction doesn’t seem to cause the mysterious box to work any faster. But instead of the blue lights to start this time the lights are a sinister deep red. Marf looks at it with a light touch of worry before he shields his eyes in preparation. The deep red shifts into that blinding white and overtakes the scene. There’s a loud whirring noise this time though as yet another new landscape dawns before our eyes. The scenery is a simple looking venue. Not massive but also not the little leagues. Marf sighs in frustration and goes to rub his hands over his head when he stops.

Staring at his hands Marf can see they are much smaller than what they should be. As he looks down at his body he notices it too is petite, feminine and not his own. Marf sees another damn poster and walks over to it just baffled at this point. This time the poster says the upcoming show is called XWF’s Snob Jow. There are multiple matches with names Marf doesn’t quite recognize at first until he sees his own version of his name in whatever outrageous universe this is. Marf sees he’s the European champion defending that title. Of course on the poster his name reads as Marfanna and he has blue hair. He’s up against Chorey Smithckles in a tuxedo match. Some of the other bizarre names he spots are Dr Androuis D’Vlogan, Neddi Kayden, Reggie Gunn and even Chris Fury.

Marf turns back to the puzzle box and lunges for it. Scooping it up he hoists it high and then immediately slams it down with severe force, smashing it onto the ground. No sooner does it strike the concrete another blinding light explodes from the unpredictable contraption. This explosion sends Marf rocketing upwards at a furious speed. He shoots off through the sky and past the upper atmosphere before entering space. He opens his mouth to scream but his head begins to expand. His eyes bulge out at what’s happening before his body also starts inflating as well. He expands wildly and then bursts in a ball of blood, guts and bones.

Marf: Fffffffuck!!!

Marf is back in the motel bed, sitting up covered in sweat. He shoves the sheets off and moves to a seated position on the bed now. His eyes look like two blue diamonds falling into blackened sockets. As he starts to speak there is still some sleep grogginess in his tone. Lower than usual.

Marf: I really need to stop having these fucking dreams. They just keep trying to put weird the last one and it’s getting annoying. More annoying than having to listen to my opponents talk, well that’s debatable. The longer their promos go the more circles they seem to travel in. It’s been a long several days and even longer several weeks. So before this ball goes a rolling, I’d like to get an important fact out of the way. Just one small little detail I would like to point out and then it can fade off into the sunset.

Marf looks closely at us now for a moment and then nods in understanding. Not sure of what but sure, okay.

Marf: I actually am excited to enter the ring at Snow Job with all of you. My partner included. Regardless of what has been said and what will be spoken of, you are all violent to the core. It is going to be a pleasure to throw fists, trade chair shots and more with each and everyone of you. Or in Lycana’s case, watch her do those things. You’re all either brave enough or stupid enough to not turn back and we’re all going to have fun in this one. Ahem.

Now, that that’s out of the way. Where do I even begin? Unfortunately I have no thesaurus or dictionaries kicking around so I may have trouble keeping up. Is that the best you can muster, Robbie Bobby Bourbon? Essentially calling me dumb? Remind me again what exactly is so intelligent about travelling to Hell? I guess it makes you sound pretty cool when you go on and on about it. Gotta have something edgy to bring in that preteen crowd, bless their parent’s pockets for increasing the buy rate. Sorry, I’m supposed to be too stupid to be discussing anything like that.

Marf displays a sharpened frown to show his displeasure.

Marf: Let’s switch it up a bit shall we? You brought up my name so let’s look at yours. Wynona’s Big Brown Beavers...or whatever the hell you call yourselves. You talk a big ass game, I can say that much. Time is running out though and neither of you will be doing much talking when we get into that ring. Instead of munching on chicken and mashed potatoes you’ll be eating chair shot after chair shot. You can come up with some clever rhymes to express how much it hurts picking splinters out of your ass from all the tables you’re going to go crashing through.

As for ole thunder knuckles, well I haven’t forgotten about you. I just don’t know what else to really say about you anymore. You can only stand behind Bourbon chanting ‘fuck ya’ for so long. I’ve been bored of your hype man bullshit since day one. I don’t care how good you think you are and I don’t care how good you think you were. To me you flat out suck all the time and are clearly the weakest link not just on your so called team but of this whole match. Why don’t you shut your mouth, step out from Bourbon’s shadow and show me what you really got. And if that isn’t the least bit appealing then you may want to sit this one out.

Marf wipes some sweat from his sleep depraved face as he takes a slow breath and than calmly exhales.

Marf: Corey really using his big boy voice coming down the stretch. You’re so obsessed with wins and losses instead of what really matters like who gets hurt. Also obsessed with bringing up Andrew Logan. I don’t need to speak for him or defend him, he can do that for himself without problem. He chooses to worry about more important issues rather than bother with the likes of you. That in no way automatically means everyone in the Left Hand is identical in disregarding you. Lycana has already stepped up to you once without backing down. Now both of us are here, rising to your challenge.

And speaking of challenges, I heard about your most recent one that you laid down. If the assumption is that we won’t accept it well that’s sadly misguided. I will gratefully accept your challenge and take you on at any Warfare one on one. Put whatever silly stipulation you like on the match, I don’t care. I have no fear in facing you in any capacity Corey. I guess it is hard for you to tell that we want anything to do with you despite being booked in a damn match at a pay per view...but sure bucko, after we’re done wrecking our bodies on ladders and tables and getting bruised up by chairs, sign me up. I’ll take you on at any Warfare you desire.

Marf let’s his face contort into a twisted smile while he raises up his left hand and blows a kiss.

Marf: So lastly that brings me to the one man who seems to be the only one in the match that understands what it’s all about. The good doctor is the only one that gets it, which really shouldn’t surprise anyone. It’s hard to find a lot of negative in someone who appreciates what a match like this has the potential to bring out in all of us. The ultra violence that could be shed upon the innocent eyes of the watching world! The real horror show that the six of us can display to all, oh it will be a delight!

But there is something about this that seemed to good to be true. The longer we’ve gone on the more I’ve seen what the underlying issue is. I don’t have your undivided attention, there’s just too many distractions. The distraction of keeping a firm grasp upon that precious tag title of yours. The distraction of wanting to erase the past year of Cataclysm’s reign on top of the tag team world. The distraction of having your real partner leave you on the first title defense. The distraction of playing mind games with your current partner to create some delusional bond.

All these distractions picking away while you brush them aside. Sooner or later it will all catch up with you while we’re in that ring making our art together. And since you’ve supposedly let us exist all this time, well it’s about to turn around and bite you. Don’t worry, we have time to stop chewing on Alias to take a meaty chunk out of you, good doctor. What happens after we take the titles off of you, are you going to say you let us? A tactic like that is far below your standards doc, come on now. I get it though, again the distractions, they’re already getting to you before the match has even begun.

Marf makes a quiet ‘tsk tsk’ noise with his tongue before rising off the bed and getting dressed. He throws on his shoes and grabs a coat then goes to leave the room.

Marf: The time is drawing near, the war of words is nearing an end. The war of flesh will soon begin. With a little help from our friends tables, ladders and chairs. There will be blood, bruises and hopefully broken bones as well when the dust settles in this one. Brace yourselves as this will not be for the faint of heart. See you all very soon...

Marf puts on a toque before grabbing the keys to a rental and exiting the motel room. Who knows if he actually paid for the rental or stole it from someone else. Same can be said for the room. He hops in the rusted Volkswagen and heads out to meet Lycana at the airport while we fade to black. ]]> <![CDATA[Age of Reckoning 2]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39650 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 22:39:05 -0800 Brooke Hernandez]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39650 http://www.geocities.ws/ganjageri/Snowjob%20RP%202.html

OOC Note : Enjoy!]]> http://www.geocities.ws/ganjageri/Snowjob%20RP%202.html

OOC Note : Enjoy!]]> <![CDATA[Look to the Skies]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39649 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 21:53:37 -0800 Shawn Wylde]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39649 Look to The Skies!

]]> Look to The Skies!

]]> <![CDATA[The Hunt: Chapter 7 and Chapter 8]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39648 Sat, 30 Jan 2021 20:48:27 -0800 Chris Page]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=39648 [Image: single-patient.jpg?w=460]

Robert Main lies in his hospital bed where’s he’s called home for the last thirty days. Robert is scruffy as fuck, and why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like you can do a lot for yourself when you’re pretty much locked down in a hospital amidst a pandemic. Just the fact strings are pulled for the occasional visit is tough enough with the world we live in.

Underneath the covers of his bed, his attention is focused on the television where a promotional ad for Sunday Night’s Snow Job Pay-Per-View featuring Chris Page versus Thaddeus Duke for the Universal Title is heard playing only leading Robert to think about what could have been, or what many are saying should have been.

He picks up the remote from his lap before pointing it towards the television mounted on the wall and turns it off. Robert places it on his bedside tray table where he picks up his phone. He opens it up and uses his voice to say.

” Call Oliver.”

“ Calling Oliver.”

Almost instantly his Siri snaps back as the call doesn’t even connect. Immediately Oliver’s voicemail picks up prompting Robert to leave a message.

” Hey Oli just trying to check-in and see how things are going? I’m sure you and Page are on the hunt so just get back to me when you can. I love you brother.”

Robert hangs up his phone placing it back on the bedside table as he lets out a deep sigh while looking up at the ceiling of his room.

” I have got to get out of here.”

Suddenly the familiar voice of Chris Page is heard responding.

” No shit.”

Robert’s body flinches as he’s taken by surprise. He turns his head towards the door where a huge smile appears on his face while Chris walks over throwing up a middle finger towards his tag team partner with a smirk on his face.

[Image: painmaker-chris-jericho.jpg]

Page drops his right hand down to his side as he walks across the floor to the vacant seat at Rob’s bedside. The two share a fist bump while Page takes a seat next to Rob. Chris leans back in his chair as he crosses his right foot over his left knee, and with sheer sarcasm, he spouts out at Robert.

” You look like hammered dog shit.”

Robert fires right back at Chris.

” Well fuck you too, prick.”

Chris snickers under his breath while Robert looks over Chris’s shoulders towards the door while he asks.

” Oli not with you? He hasn’t returned any of my calls the last few days.”

” He’s not… and there’s a very good explanation. I know over the last week or so we’ve been in and out of contact; we got em’.”

Sheer happiness floods off the face of the former Universal Champion and exudes from his pores!

” Did you just say…”

Chris interjects.

” We got em’.”[green]

Robert runs both hands over his face as he lets out a sigh of relief as he rests in his hospital bed while Chris continues.

[green]” Oliver is running further recon which is why you can’t reach him because it is, in fact, deeper than one person, and it’s a fucked situation if you ask me…”[green]

” Do I even want to know?”

Chris uncrosses his leg putting it back on the floor as he leans forward towards the side of the bed.

[green]” That’s up to you…”

Robert glances up at the ceiling as he thinks while letting out a second, deeper sigh. We see Chris raise his right butt cheek so he can retrieve his cell phone out of his back pocket.

” The footage is right here and it answers a piece of the questions… I just don’t know if you want to see it…”

This entire experience has changed the former Universal Champion because for the first time he comes to terms with the bull’s eye on his back inside and outside of the ring. You can see a tear start to develop in the corner of Rob’s left eye He rubs this right side of his face, shielding Chris from seeing the tear that’s already been spotted. Robert quickly pulls himself together as he coughs before breaking his silence.

” Yeah man…”

Slightly nodding his head he continues.

” I need to see this for myself.”

” Are you sure?”

Robert nods his head while he responds to Chris.

” I’m ready.”

” Fine.”

Chris opens the video on his phone as he hands it over to Robert who looks on after hitting play. The footage is in color as Robert Main is walking down the backstage hallways in Milan, Italy from Warfare on December 23, 2020. The date is stamped on the lower right-hand corner of the screen. He’s walking away from the camera when stepping out of a room off the hallway is a hooded figure in black jeans, a black long-sleeve button-down shirt with a piece of four-foot lead pipe in his right hand. Robert watches for the first time as this figure comes up from behind within a matter of seconds and swings violently cracking Robert on the right side of the skull dropping him as he walked.

Robert looks away from the screen, cringing. Chris reaches over and taps on the screen pausing the footage’s playback.

” I know it isn’t easy to watch, but you need to finish it.”

Slowly Robert turns his head back towards the cell phone screen in his hands. Chris taps the screen resuming the playback. With Robert now lying prone on the concrete floor as the masked attacker takes off leaving the screen causing Robert to state.

” He left…”

” Keep watching.”

The screen switches to a second camera that catches the masked attacker assuming he’s in the clear to pull off his masked and reveal himself…

[Image: giphy.gif]

” That mother fucker!”

Out of sheer anger Robert hurls Page’s phone across the room shattering it against one of the walls of the hospital room. Chris slides his chair back away from Robert’s bed and out of harm’s way while Robert lashes out.

” Tell me he paid! Jesus I’m going to rip him apart!”

Knowing it is lost cause Chris attempts to calm the situation as he gets out of his chair.

” He’s DEAD! He’s a dead man walking!”

” Brother calm down man… you need to chill out because that’s not all of it dude!”’

Robert continues to go in as we see Chris come around to the foot of the bed, his hands hit the frame taking Robert’s attention and stops the screaming from the former Universal Champion.

” Listen to me and stop screaming like a fucking child!”

Robert starts to finally calm down, taking slow deep breaths as he looks ahead at Chris who removes his hands from the bedframe and is standing upright, his arms crossed across his chest.

” I know you’re pissed brother but this is chess, not checkers. I’m just as upset as you are; trust me when I tell you that there’s not a whole lot left of Thunder Knuckles after we got through with him. I’m going to spare you the details for now but I need for you to know that Thunder Knuckles was just a piece of this puzzle.”

Robert finally calms himself down completely as his breathing becomes more normal.

” Tell me what you and Oli did to that bastard?”

” He paid a hefty price for remaining silent. Maybe he got his jaw cracked with a pair of Brass Knuckles, perhaps he had a fingernail or two plucked… and maybe some waterboarding was involved… but in the end… he talked, they always talk.”

Chris walks back around the bed towards his chair. He pulls it back up to the bed.

” He gave up the tracking number from an Xbox transaction that we traced to a source that Oliver is looking into as we speak.”

Robert states.

” You let him go it alone?!”

” Bro I do have commitments tomorrow night in Green Bay if you don’t remember, Snow Job ring any bells? Universal Title on the line?

Robert nods his head a few times while Chris continues.

” I meant it when I said that I was going to win this match for you because this was your shot. You’ve got to know that as much as I want to finish the job with Oliver it would have forced me to miss Snow Job… which makes all the work we’ve done to get this far would be for nothing. Oliver is a big boy and if I thought for one second that anything crazy would happen I wouldn’t have sent him.”

” He does know how to take care of himself.”

Chris retakes his seat as the conversation with Robert continues.

” I know you’re still processing all this, rightfully so. I just need for you to fully recover because we left just enough of Thunder Knuckles for you to finish off. From there we will move up the snake until we cut off its head. In the meantime rest and get back in the game, while I know you’re going to want to be at Snow Job… watch it from here, and know that when you get back in the mix and we slay the beasts that did this to you that I will be carrying the Universal Title and you will get your shot you are owed.”

” This is not even about the title anymore… it is as personal as personal can get. When I get back into the fold the first order of business is going to be revenge. I’m going to make the fathers of Thunder Knuckles and whoever else is involved in trying to end my life regret not using a rubber.”

Chris sits back and listens as Robert states.

” You do what you got to do to get that strap and when you hear from Oliver will you let me know?”

Chris’s eyes grow wide before he motions towards the far wall of the room with a head nod as he sarcastically responds.

” I mean you did just smash my phone bro.”

” Fuck, sorry.”

” Don’t worry about it dude… I’ll grab another, yes I’ll let you know when I hear from him… but don’t get restless if it takes a few days because he’s deep undercover right now. When I say it’s deeper than Thunder Knuckles it’s deeper than BoB and it’s deeper than the XWF. You got somebody out there that wants you permanently out of the picture..”

There’s nothing but sincerity from Chris Page as he leans forward resting his right elbow on the side of Robert’s bed while continuing.

” This is dangerous… I have a feeling that it’s only going to go further. You don’t have a hell of a lot of friends throughout the success you’ve had both in and out of the ring. You are a marked man, always have been but now the snakes are coming out of hibernation. I feel bad enough that this happened to you; even worse that it happened while I was in the same building not even one hundred feet away. Given the nature of just how far these guys might go, I’ve taken the liberty of hiring private security for you around the clock.”

Robert’s eyes shift over Chris’s shoulder through the window and out into the hallway where all he can see are the backs of two gentlemen in black suites built like brick shithouses; one on each side of the door before shifting his attention back towards Chris.

” This is not necessary man.”

” The fuck it is man! Someone is trying to kill you! What part of this has nothing to do with wrestling are you not comprehending? You might not deem it necessary, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something else happened to you with me knowing the information I know.”

” What do you know that you are not telling me?

Chris starts to get up out of his chair while Robert maintains eye contact with his best friend.

” Robert just know whatever I’m not telling you is because it has not been confirmed or denied yet. I won’t put thoughts in your head or feed you information that has not been substantiated. The threat is real.”

” Alright man if you think it's best.”

” At least for now.”

There’s a sigh from Robert.

” Listen, watch the show and know that I’m bringing this title home for you.”

Chris and Robert fist bump.

” I’ll hit you up after Snow Job… unless I hear from Oliver first.”[/i]

” Alright brother.”

Chris turns and walks back across the room towards the closed door. Chris turns around looking over at Robert in the bed and flips him off which garners a sly smirk from Robert as he shakes his head and hollers out.

” Fuck off.”

Page laughs at Robert as he lowers his right hand before walking out into the hallway of the hospital where he closes the door behind him. On either side of the door, the two massive private security stand seemingly intimidating if anyone would try to come for Rob.

[green]” He doesn’t leave the room under any circumstance, understood?”

” Yes sir.”

” Use force if necessary… I’m serious.”

” Understood sir.”

Chris steps in front of the window looking in on Robert who is flipping through the channels on the television. Chris reaches into his back left pocket pulling out a second cell phone. Chris walks away from the window and down a stretch of hallway. Chris dials a number on the phone and places it to his ear. There is silence for a second or two before all Chris says.

” Walnut Brain bought it all every step of the way.”

A sinister snicker escapes from Chris Page as he then says.

” Mission is nearly complete.”

Chris ends the call before placing the phone in his back pocket as he reaches the lobby of the floor Robert is on. The elevator opens and we see Chris step on it…

… TO BE CONTINUED

THE INTERVIEW PART 1:

The scene opens as we are with Chris Page on an interview set for an exclusive sit with XWF99.com and longtime XWF Journalist Steve Sayors.

” Good to see you again Steve…”

There’s an obvious eye roll from Steve Sayors who can’t help but remember the lead into High Stakes as he spent six weeks chronicling Chris Page on his road to the Battle Royale only to be left holding his dick on a street corner in bum-fuck U.S.A.

” Always my pleasure, Chris.”

” Of course it is.”

Chris adjusts into the chair getting as comfortable as he can as the final preparations are taken before recording can begin. A few more seconds pass before Steve looks directly into the camera as it shoots straight ahead on him while in intro’s

” Good evening wrestling fans and thank you for joining me today as I sit down with one of the most outspoken individuals to ever lace a pair of wrestling boots, some love him while most hate him, he will tell you to fuck off on a moments notice and is going to be challenging for the XWF Universal Championship tomorrow night live at a sold-out Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin in the Main Event of Snow Job 2021- Ladies and gentleman he’s a former XWF Tag Team Champion, former XWF Television Champion, and a former XWF World Heavyweight Champion… “Chronic” Chris Page.”

Camera pans back revealing Chris sitting comfortably in his chair without a care in the world.

” Always a pleasure Mr. Page.”

” As well it should.”

Chris winks with his right eye towards the camera.

” You’ve had a very interesting close to 2020 and start to 2021 if I do say so myself. Going back to High Stakes Cataclysm is defeated by Doctor Deville and Thaddeus Duke ending what was going to be a record-breaking run as the XWF World Tag Team Champions had the titles been retained only to turn back around in the High Stakes Battle Royale and eliminate Doc and the current XWF Xtreme Champion Reggie Estrada, and now here you are poised to challenge Thaddeus Duke for the Universal Title in what most might call the feud of the year for 2020. We have a lot to cover, but I’d like to start by getting your take on the roller coaster your career has been on over the last five or six months. You have broken out of the pack and been called a “workhorse” on more than one occasion. How does that make you feel?”

Chris takes a moment to soak in the entire nature of the statement that led into Steven’s opening question.

” Listen I’m here doing my job. My job is to be the best of the best and stand over anyone that stands before me. I happen to take what I do inside that squared circle incredibly seriously but more importantly, I take this profession, this sport of Wrestling more seriously. We can waste our time talking about the last eight weeks or the last six months and pretend the viewers watching this aren’t already aware of how and why we’re here. I’ll leave that to Thaddeus since he seems to struggle with anything tangible to say while he tries desperately to make up ground for being the fuck up he is.”

Chris takes a moment before he follows up.

” Let’s talk about High Stakes and let’s talk about the individual performance I put up against a group of talent that had to rely on others just to be remotely successful. I tossed out the number two man in this company like the sack of shit he is, I tossed that wanna be legend Doc out like the piece of trash that he is… but I also fell victim to bullshit was the closing moments of that Battle Royale. Witness should be just as upset about how all that played out as I am because all Doc and Corey did was take a shit all over the work that was put in by the talents that gave a shit about leaving with their arms in victory; but hey that’s okay, right? That’s condonable by the hypocritical nature of our alleged “good guys” versus our “bad guys”.
So maybe Thad’s right when he says WE did it because it damn sure wasn’t him on his merit or abilities contrary to what he’d love for everyone to believe.”

” Chris you and Thad have been at each other’s throat for the better part of six months that’s spanned three title divisions, what does it mean to you for this thing to finally come to an end with the Universal Title on the line?”

” I’ve made no bones about it Steve… The XWF Universal Title is the only title that I have ever challenged for that I have not won. Think about that statement for just a second; I’ve been in the business for thirty years and have won major titles in every company I’ve graced with my presence, but never have I cracked the code to the XWF Universal Championship. My only other encounters were opposite Robert Main and Unknown Solider with the only pinfall “loss” coming at the hands of Robert Main with that being a questionable decision at best. When you think about Thaddeus Duke versus Chris Page you think back to everything that’s transpired to this point only to add in the Universal Title into the mix… cha-ching.”

There’s a light laugh from Chris as he now crosses his right ankle over his left knee

” I know you don’t want to go deep into the past but we have to touch on how you found yourself in this position to challenge for the top title when originally Robert Main was going to step back into the limelight of that Universal Title division. As we all know there was an attack on Robert on the December 23rd edition of Warfare that has sidelined him since. You’ve been tight-lipped on the overall condition of Robert, can you give the world an update on your tag team partner?”

” Well Robert’s more than just a tag team partner he’s a brother to me. What happened to him was and is being handled without any help from the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. The deal is this, Robert was on his way to the ring when he was assaulted with a deadly weapon, the shot callers in the XWF can careless, they’ve done what they did when they fucked the both of us out of culminating our angle in 2019… threw him away. The man has been in a private hospital for a month, and do you think for one second that anyone from the XWF has called to check in with him? Do you think anyone that claims to care about Robert other than me has put up any effort in trying to track down the responsible parties?”

Steve answers the question with a question.

” Do you know who the responsible parties are?”

” Here’s what I’m willing to share with the world. Over the last several weeks not only have I been preparing to take that Universal Title off Thad’s plate I’ve also conducted my investigation that has led to the implications of several people currently on the XWF Roster. What baffles my mind is how I can uncover a conspiracy to not only end the career but quite possibly the life of the biggest box office attraction of the modern era while Theo and Vinnie are tugging on each other’s peckers.”

” Wait, you’re telling me to live on camera that you’ve uncovered some people responsible for Robert’s attack? “

” I’m not only telling you that I’m also telling you I’ve gotten to one of them already and it’s led me to someone else. When it comes to Robert the only thing everyone needs to know is that he’s going to make a full recovery, and when he returns it’s going to be open fucking season on everyone that’s fingerprints are on this attack. Before you ask, no I’m not dropping names… they know who they are and they know to keep a low profile, or my buddy and I are going to visit them and finish what we’ve already started. When I left Rob I told him the same thing I’m going to tell you. When it comes to Snow Job I’m dedicating my victory to him. He’s going to be watching live on Pay-Per-View just like millions of others, and they’re going to watch me do what I do best… show up and steal the show. “

Chris uncrosses his right leg placing it back down on the floor.

” The fun and games are over and now the time for the real men to step up and take the reins of this federation. The cleansing of this federation is about to begin and everything that I’ve worked for over the last several years has finally come full circle and I’ve never found myself in a better position to show this federation what a REAL leader is all about. Not some little shit that can win titles but NOT defend, no some punk that has to lie about being on a TV set for a show that doesn’t exist so he didn’t have to look me in the eyes and sign his name to the contract. That groundwork for his next excuse has already been laid for him; but let me tell you, him and the world that once this is over and Thad goes home for another thirty days to lick his wounds there’s not going to be a rematch. The final Chapter means just that, the final chapter. With it being the final party you’d think he’d be a little more on the ball rather than playing second fiddle, you’d think he would want to set the example instead of being exposed for the POSER that he is.”

Chris speaks intently as he takes several deep breaths and just as Steve is about to move on Chris looks intently at him while spouting out.

” I wasn’t finished.”

Chris’s eyes shift towards the hard camera giving it his undivided attention where there’s nothing but sheer and utter determination within the tone of his voice while he states.

” With my best friend and tag team partner stuck in a hospital watching instead of being at Snow Job to watch as I finally put it all together and take that one title that has just been outside of my grasp is just more motivation to push me harder while throwing more gasoline on this blaze that’s going to engulf Thaddeus tomorrow night. Robert is going to be by my side in spirit, when I can’t go any further he’s going to kick me in the ass and elevate me to a level that even I didn’t know existed. Unlike you, Thad, Robert is not a poser, he is not fake or phony and is not here just for the sake of a paycheck. He and I are not like you for you see we give a shit about what we are trying to accomplish and collectively we have worked too goddamn hard for too long to see some self-absorbed little boy that hasn’t got the first clue to the level of responsibility that is really on his shoulders. It’s a joke to him that he isn’t manning and DEFENDING both of his titles that he was man enough to win on his own.”

Chris pauses for just a second before continuing,

” What’s to sit he’s getting lucky and pulls off a successful defense tomorrow night, does he forgo defending the Tag Titles next month as well? If so where the fuck is any of that fair within the structure of the company? It sends a clear message that the rules don’t apply to certain people which is something I’ve said about this company ever since I’ve been back in the mix. You can’t turn a blind eye, strip the mother fuckers from Doc and Thad and let two guys that want the honor of defending them take them. It’s not the division's fault that Duke is just “too busy” to handle his responsibilities as a Champion much like he was “too busy” to show up and sign the contract on Warfare. Thad, you don’t give a fuck about this federation other than it giving you yet another handout! You haven’t earned a goddamn thing you’ve gotten and now more than ever when YOU had the opportunity to step to the plate and prove it… you failed.”

Chris leans forward towards the camera.

” You have followed by breadcrumbs every step of the way while doing and saying exactly what was expected and when it was expected. You don’t see that? You don’t see how I’ve masterminded this entire program to lead me right here, right now? I wasn’t expecting the title to be in the mix, and while you certainly had A LOT of help there too it’s set me up nicely to snatch it from your grasp and send you back to the kiddie table where you can have pissing contests with Charlie Nickels since that seems to be both of your things. The title, the Final Chapter, Robert Main all play a part in what makes this one match, this blows off if you will, pack a bigger punch than anything either of us has done before. I can sit here and confidently say that I am performing on a higher level and I’ve peaked at the right time over the last several weeks while you have been distracted by bogus outside endeavors, campy soap operaesque bullshit. You’ve put your foot in your mouth while I’m the guy that’s going to make you choke on it.”

… TO BE CONTINUED

CHAPTER 8:

[Image: wp2392187.jpg]

Lambeau Field, site of XWF Snow Job tomorrow night live on Pay-Per-View is the site as our scene opens. We are on a loading dock as a black town car with full windows tinted can be seen pulling into the back of the field through a large set of open dock doors. Just inside several large XWF production trucks parked side by side can be seen as well as several large groups of stagehands working diligently on the final preparations for tomorrow night’s showcase event.

The town car comes to a stop. The back driver’s side door opens were stepping out of the car is none other than the challenger for the XWF Universal Championship, the man that many have said has the champion’s number, the man that doesn’t put outside ventures in front of professional obligations and lie about them, the man that has been a staple for the term “workhorse” within the locker room of the XWF and the man who is laser-focused on stripping Thaddeus Duke of whatever pride and dignity he has left.

“Chronic” Chris Page.

Chris removes the shakes from the front of his shirt and places them over his eyes before brushing the left shoulder of his sport coat with his right hand. He focuses his attention straight ahead while walking forward towards a large fifty-foot section of black backdrop that leads us to some steps and scaffolding to get us up towards the entrance for this mega show. Chris takes the walk while the thoughts of the past, the present, and the future start to run through his head.

It is interesting how something that started over something so trivial as the Television Championship some six months ago has led us to over ninety thousand people jam-packing Lambeau Field amidst a pandemic and all just to witness the culmination of six months of bickering like a couple of teenagers over who has the bigger dick; and yes, yes I do, has come full circle.

Chris walks up the two flights of stairs built into some scaffolding to reach the entry point for Snow Job. He walks through a curtain and out to the top of the ramp.

[Image: hqdefault.jpg]

Chris stands at the top of the ramp, it’s brisk and chilly as the wind starts to whip throughout the stadium. He takes a moment to look around the near-empty stadium as the dark skies linger above. There’s a handful of crew members doing some odds and ends around the ringside area, busy as can be because in less than twenty-four hours the world will be watching.

This is the time.

This is the place.

Failure isn’t an option because with failure comes the realization that chasing the Universal Championship will be out of my equation. Questions have been raised about if maybe I’ve put more pressure on myself by verbally making that known; the simple answer is no. I’m a different breed, a different caliber of a performer that takes an awful lot of pride in marketing myself without a title around my waist, the way I see this is just another match that I will give everything I’ve got to leave with my arm raised in victory; but let’s be clear, I said I would challenge for it, I didn’t say I wouldn’t accept a challenge if it was presented.

” It is a shame Robert can’t be here for this.”

My ultimate fuck you to Robert Main is going to be the moment that the final bell tolls and the announcement is made that I am the new XWF Universal Champion. All he had to do was just stay away and let me finish what I started. When Thaddeus “won” the title at High Stakes Robert could have not been a prick and gave up his spot for me to finish this thing for good. Did he do that? Fuck no! Why? Because he knew that if I had this chance I would do the one thing that he is scared shitless for me to do… step out of his shadow by taking my spot on top, a place even he knows is almost two years past due.

The plotting and planning on my behalf have been nothing short of genius.

When Solider put Robert in the hospital in 2019 I made sure the first mother fucker he saw in his room was me. I made sure that I kept everyone from the hierarchy of the XWF away; I kept everyone out of his ear so that I may play my game. I got inside his head; I manipulated him into thinking that we had a common goal in fucking over the establishment that fucked us over. I convinced him that I had his best interest at heart; I carried him to the XWF Tag Titles when I beat the unbeatable Noah Jackson in the middle of that ring, I lured him into the dark place that he finds himself into this very day… and I am the man responsible for putting him in the hospital very he finds himself today.

” Tomorrow night is going to be my crowning moment. You can feel it in the air that the Duke Nation is going to crumble under the weight of Chris Page.”

I wish I could tell you that I am remorseful of my actions… but I am not. Robert had it coming, and with it being a matter of time before the truth is revealed to the world I took a lot of honor in not only taking him down but putting his fuck face of a brother back behind bars. It was one of the best-laid plans if there ever was one. When I saw Robert’s face light up when Oliver walked into that hospital room I couldn’t help but feel joy and satisfaction knowing that I am going to be responsible for putting Oliver away for the next twenty years.

When I play a game I play for fucking keeps.

This has been carefully thought out, planned, and executed to where I got what I wanted. Robert out of the picture and me standing in front of the world under the bright lights and big cities to finally cement my legacy as the XWF Universal Champion. This runs deeper than Rob, but it shows partly what lengths I’ll go to to get what I want. When the news breaks that I was behind Rob’s attack there’s going to be a plethora of people pointing the finger of “I told you so”. Congratulations in advance for being able to point out the fucking obvious when I pretty much told everyone a year ago the time would come when I would pull the trigger on a well-orchestrated plan.

… and here we are.

What’s more than comical to me is how minimal Thad’s role is in all this. He’s walking into Snow Job under the false notion that I give a fuck about what’s transpired over the last six months when in actuality the last six months all Thaddeus was and is to me in someone to pass time with. When Robert told me he intended to challenge the winner of High Stakes and the winner turned out to be Thad I refused to give him that satisfaction; had it been anyone else other than myself the same thing would have happened to him; this is my time.

Robert Main is done.

You can thank me for it.

He will never be the same again, and should he defy doctor’s orders and so much as step foot in a wrestling ring again I assure you that I’ll be right there and won’t need a baseball bat to crack that walnut brain. I paid Thunder Knuckles to handle the deed and led Robert and Oliver exactly where I wanted them to go.

Goddamn, I’m good.

” Thaddeus has no idea what’s in store for him.”

The trap has been set and he’s walked right into it without batting an eyelash. He’s been my puppet while I’ve been his puppet master. I’ve backed him into a corner where he is now forced to either live up to his self-absorbed hype or he crashes and burns in front of millions of people who will be watching from home. Chris Page might have some semblance of respect for Thaddeus… but I don’t.

Never have.

The internal struggle has nearly come to its endgame; Chris has become weak in attempts to fight me off, to stop me from fully taking over. Even he can only fight that battle for so long before he loses the war. When people look back on tomorrow night when the history books are closed and that Final Chapter is written it is going to end….

The lights at Lambeau Field suddenly go pitch dark.

The sounds of the confused stagehands yelling at each other can be heard before the lights come back up to see…

[Image: s-l300.jpg]

With a Beast standing with all the rewards.

...the end.

THE INTERVIEW: PART TWO

” Would you say that you’re on top of your game?

Steve Sayors is shown sitting next to Chris on the interview set; he seems a little uncomfortable yet continues to speak with the challenger for the XWF Universal Championship.

’ What the fuck kind of question is that? You are goddamn right I am on top of my game. I have never walked into anything unprepared and this deal tomorrow night is the same way. What Thaddeus needs to realize and what the rest of the world needs to realize is that when I play a game I play that game for keeps. I’ve made no mistakes, I’ve carefully plotted my road and even suckered him into a match that I choose that the fucking company couldn’t even book correctly. One fall to a finish, no interference… two men enter, one man, leaves with the ability to call themselves THE best; not a hard concept to come to terms with.”

” I’ll ask the same question only this time in regards to Thaddeus; he’s been on a roll there’s no doubt, do you think he’s at the top of his game?”

Without hesitation Chris blurts out.

” He goddamn better be; listen, Steve, Thad cannot afford not to be on his best game because even he’s smart enough to know that if he is not that this one is over before it even begins. He’s got a lot going on outside of the ring that’s going to directly affect what goes on inside the ring. Thad’s went wrong on so many levels leading to this one chance encounter that even pointing them out at this point has come more redundant than any shit talk he tries to throw at me. We’re getting to that threshold where the talk stops and the actions start. Thad’s deluded as fuck if he thinks he has me figured out; a wise man once said “just when you think you’ve got the answers I change the question.”

There’s a malicious tone to the voice as he speaks at a methodical pace.

” If it comes down to who wants it more? No brainer, you’re looking at me’, if it is a question of dedication and representing the federation? At least I make scheduled appearances and show up to defend titles when I have them regardless of how many I have. Does it come down to who is built to carry this federation on his back and take it back to the promised land? Brother nobody commands the attention or the spotlight more than I do. What this comes down to is who is the better man tomorrow night inside Lambeau Field that’s going to be jam-packed and with the millions of people at home watching and waiting eagerly for that question to be answered. Now I’m going to ask you a question, Steve.”

Chris shifts his gaze over towards Steve, his cold blue eyes lock eyes with the brown pupils of Sayors. Steve takes a deep swallow as Chris asks.

” Do I look like I’m walking into this to leave empty-handed?”

There’s some hesitation from Steve which prompts a second question in a more serious tone from Chris’s voice.

” Do I look like I am walking into this with blinders on?”

” No.”

Steve responds.

” I do not think that I have seen you this focused or driven on anything since you versus Main several years ago.”

” I took Main to the limits at his best… and he trumps Thad in every sense of the game, so what do you think I’m going to do to this kid when we are involved in something that matters?”

There is an awkward silence as Steve grows even more uncomfortable with the blank stare glaring over at him from a very intent Chris Page.

” Steve let me explain something to you and the rest of the people taking the time to watch this; there’s a reason why this is the first and only interview I’m granting on this contest. I’m not out and about making media rounds or playing any of the corporate games that others might be playing. When I showed up in 2019 it was to bring the XWF down; when I leave tomorrow night as the Universal Champion it shall start shockwaves that will be felt throughout the entire wrestling world. I allowed you all to think that I pivoted from that plan but in reality, I’ve misdirected you all and have been playing my own game of chess. This is just the genesis of something much bigger. We’re on the cusp of laying out the most elaborate piece of business any of you have ever seen, or more importantly bothered to notice that will leave your fucking jaws on the floor.”

Chris starts to lean forward which causes Steve to start to lean back into his chair.

” Nobody is going to have to worry about a whole hell of a lot in just about twenty-four hours because when I take center stage you are all going find out exactly what the hell I’m talking about… only then it’s going to be too little too late.”

Chris leans back into his chair which eases some of the tension in the room. Steve Sayors lets out a deep breath before reluctantly asking.

” Some people might say that you take things a little too far at times. What would you say to them now if you had the chance?”

” Since when is pushing the envelope wrong? Ya know you’ll have to excuse the fuck out of me if I do not care if I am stepping all over someone else’s feelings. This is a business and if you don’t have thick skin then do yourself a favor and get the hell out of Professional Wrestling. You can make friends or you can make money, I got plenty of friends and I love making the money. Listen, it’s not my fault that I can outperform guys half my age. It’s not my fault that legends like me can show up at any point and take away any attention from anyone we choose to. That what happens when you are one of the greatest of all time.”

Another pause from Chris before he states.

” There is a reason when guys like me, guys like James Raven or Shawn Warstein’s name hit a card the interest immediately escalates to a fever pitch. If I had to say anything to anyone who seems to think I might go a little too far it revolves around two simple words.”

Chris shifts his attention towards the hard camera before responding.

” Fuck you.”

There’s a cocky smirk on the face of Chris as he redirects towards Steve.

” What’s next for you after Snow Job should you leave with the Universal Championship?”

” Naturally I’m going to correct you because it doesn’t revolve around “should I leave” with it. The question should be what’s next for you when you leave with the Universal Championship; but you know what, before we even go there let me take this opportunity to talk to Thad for just a second.”

Chris’s attention once again shift towards the hard camera.

” You and Doc did me a favor by relieving me of my part of the Tag Titles. They were holding me back from ascending to my rightful place at my rightful time. I don’t have to worry about carrying Robert or making sure his head in the right place to get through another title defense and it has allowed me to put my attention squarely where it rightfully belongs. The master manipulator is back in the mix and it is entirely too late in the game for you to do anything but show up and hand me that title tomorrow night at Snow Job. Save yourself the further embarrassment, save yourself any more exposure for the fraud that you are. This is not the Thaddeus Duke show, never has been. It has always been my show and come the close of Snow Job you are finally going to understand that when you leave empty-handed while trying to figure out a way to put all the pieces back together; but at least you’ll have Corey to cradle you and tell you everything is going to be alright or how there’s no shame to losing to someone like me.”

There’s a distinct pause from Chris before he states.

” It is not the loss of the Universal Title that is going to hurt you the most… it is going to be the bruise to your ego that shall last you the rest of your lifetime. I want you to remember something kid… You are the one that picked this fight, I’m just the one that’s going to end it. When the Final Chapter is written the man that’s going to be left standing is “Chronic” Chris Page.”

Chris shifts his gaze back towards Steve before continuing.

” This is the part where you tell them goodnight.”

Chris gets up from his chair and walks off camera leaving Steve Sayors to soak everything he has just heard.

THE END]]> [Image: single-patient.jpg?w=460]

THE INTERVIEW PART 1:

The scene opens as we are with Chris Page on an interview set for an exclusive sit with XWF99.com and longtime XWF Journalist Steve Sayors.

With a Beast standing with all the rewards.

...the end.

THE INTERVIEW: PART TWO

On Board Illuminatus Two || FL280/J239 || 9:21 AM

28,000 feet above the eastern United States, myself and my chiefs are in full on panic mode. It’s clear that Brad Wallace is an Ares Project operative and to boot, I’m the one that let him on the plane. It begs a lot of questions and at the very top of that list is how the hell he managed to infiltrate Frankie’s protection detail. If we get out of this, heads will have to roll.

For the moment, my only concern is Frankie’s safety. After hastily departing the call with Liz and Karen, I hightail it out of my Sit Room and down the hall to the family room. His guards are still posted outside… minus one. Brad Wallace. Emitting a sigh of at least some relief, I open the door to see Frankie rummaging through the cabinet of video games.

Standing in the doorway I now realize I left the Sit Room entirely unarmed. Granted, I don’t know the dangers that lie ahead, or what the Ares Projects goal is. If it were me in their position and I somehow worked my way onto their plane, I’d just take out the pilots and point the nose to the ground, killing everyone aboard.

”Give me your sidearm,” I say to one of his guards. He looks back at me with a confused look, but readily hands me his full loaded pistol. ”We got infiltrators aboard gentlemen,” I inform them. They look at each for a moment then back at me. In the interim, each of them turn off the safeties on their rifles.

”Frankie come with me,” I call out to him across the room. Spying the gun in my hand, a worried look understandably crosses his face.

”What’s wrong?” he asks as he approaches the door way, for the moment, I don’t answer him.

”Did you buzz the others?” I ask one of the guards and he nods his affirmation. Just a moment later, two more of his guards exit their break room, locked and loaded.

As we stand in the hallway, the plane takes a steep dive, throwing the guards to the floor. Grabbing Frankie so that he doesn’t fall, I leave myself wide open to crash face first into the opened door jam, giving me a cut on my face along the right side of my nose.

”Thad!” the boy shouts out in fear.

”Just hold on Bub,” I tell him calmly, gripping his hand tight. Seconds later, the plane levels out again. In my mind, I can only imagine what happened in the cockpit.

”What’s going on!?” he asks, again his voice is full of fear and at the moment, there’s nothing I can do to alleviate that.

”We’ll talk about it in a little bit,” I reply to him. ”Let’s get you to the safe room first.”

With the guards now back on their feet, they await their instruction from me.

”Switch to sidearms,” I instruct them. ”This plane takes a dive again, I don’t want y’all accidentally firing automatic rifles. Three in back, two in front.

“If we come across someone we don’t immediately recognize...” I pause a moment, debating quickly in my head if this is really the right order to give. I look down at Frankie, then back up at the guards knowing his life and safety takes precedence above all else. ”Take them out.”

Hopefully that order doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass, but there’s just no chance I can take, or that I’m even willing to take when it comes to that boys life. The men and women that pledge their allegiance to me are willing to die for me for any reason. Dying for Frankie, is akin to dying for me. If I still professed the titles bestowed upon me at my birth rather than shy away from using them, regardless of whether or not he’s biologically my son, the moment his adoption is approved by the courts, he’s the heir to everything I have. The Illuminatus included.

With caution and a great deal of trepidation from Frankie, we make our way back the hallway toward the secure Sit Room. Inside the room is a secret compartment, a panic room of sorts. It’s entirely secure and impenetrable in addition to blast proof. What can I say? My dad was a paranoid leader and he’s the one that had the 747’s built. As time goes on though, I’ve grown to understand the paranoia, especially now with Frankie and with twins on the way this spring.

”What’s the plan?” asks Jim from the comfort of the Compound in Connecticut as Frankie, his detail and I enter the Sit Room. On the wall, the screens are lit up with my chiefs, Jim, Tritter and even my father.

”Why is he here?” my dad asks, referring to Frankie.

I look at Frankie then at my dad up on the screen. ”Because we’re in crisis with infiltrators on board dad, where would you have me put him?”

”You alright little mate?” Jim asks of Frankie.

”I’m fine,” he lies. ”I don’t even know what’s going on.”

”We know the Ares Project is on the plane,” I recap, mostly for Frankie. ”And I’m pretty sure they’re flying it as we speak.”

”How can you be sure?” asks my joint chiefs chairman.

”We went into a pretty steep dive a couple minutes ago,” I inform them. ”Either my pilots did it to combat them, or it happened during the struggle for the controls.”

”Thad, your transponder was just switched off,” Tritter informs us all.

”That pretty much makes it official then,” I surmise, mostly to myself, but definitely out loud. ”We’re hijacked.”

”There’s a backup,” my father says as a matter of fact. ”It’s in the cargo hold. You know where the limo gets strapped down?”

I nod my head.

”Along the passenger side almost directly across from the door about six feet up is an emergency light. There’s a little black reset button. That turns on the backup transponder.”

Even in this moment, I can’t help but smile. I nod to one of Frankie’s guards. ”Same rules of engagement Harrison, shoot first, ask questions later.” He exits the Sit Room to find and turn that transponder on.

”I tried to be prepared for everything Thad,” he says to me and despite our differences in philosophy, he was definitely more prepared to be the leader he was.

”I think the first thing you need to do mate, is figure out how to retake that plane,” Jim states, as if I hadn’t already considered that option.

”I’m not willing to do that,” I reply almost immediately.

Jim looks on with a perturbed look on his face.

”He does that Jim… there’s a good possibility they’ll just ditch the plane into the ground rather than give it up.”

”In case you hadn’t noticed Jim,” I begin with a glance at Frankie, before looking at Jim’s screen. ”That’s far too big a risk to take.”

”They have the plane, if simply killing him was their plan,” my dad tries to explain to him, referring to me in the process. ”Then they’d have done it already. Nah they have something else in mind.”

”Well let’s tell the U.S. government what’s going on then,” he offers up. ”If they know there’s a hijacking in progress, they’ll send up fighters to flank you.”

”And when their negotiations don’t materialize Jim, then what?” I ask him to no response. ”And...”

The plane starts to dip slightly to the left and I stop myself to strap Frankie into his seat. ”Seats guys,” I say to his detail and they quickly take seats at the table and strap in.

”What’s wrong?”

”We’re turning,” I answer him before returning to my previous statements. ”And when they decide they have no other choice but to shoot us down over some field in Nebraska or some shit, then what Jim?

“I don’t know about you, but some dusty old nothing town in Nebraska is not where I want to draw my last breath.”

”Well I don’t know what else to do Thad.”

”The backup transponder was just turned on, you’re over West Virginia,” Tritter states.

”Lincoln keep me informed on their location,” my dad insists.

”Dad, you can’t...”

”Bullshit!” he interrupts me. ”My son and grandson are in danger and Thad, I’ve listened to you for two years about not getting involved and on this one, I’m taking it out of your hands. You’re pinned down with no defense but a few armed guards and yourself.

“That’s it.

“As soon as we figure out where the hell they’re taking you, I’ll have my boys deployed and en route to fuck up McGovern’s day. You can say and order whatever you want to your men and women Thad, but on this, I am absolutely getting involved.”

There’s literally no way to argue with him. He’s right. I have a serious lack of options at the moment and I don’t see any other way out of this.

”So the plan then?”

Sitting quietly for a moment as I debate in my head how I’ll get us out of this. And honestly, I can’t come up with much of anything aside from just letting things play out how they might.

”Dad?”

He looks up at the screen.

”Whatever happens,” I begin. ”Just make sure Frankie is taken to safety.”

”And you,” he offers in response.

I stare at him through the screen and watch him swallow hard.

”I know what you’re saying Thad,” he begins. ”If it comes down to it, we’ll get him out of there. But make no mistake I have every intention of getting you out too.”

”If it comes down to it Dad and its either him or me, you choose him. You understand me?”

He nods but says nothing else.

”You’re a talker Thad,” Tritter interjects. ”Use that to your advantage.”

”I don’t know what you’re talking about, Linc.”

”We’ve been trying to track their satellites forever,” Tritter explains. ”Wherever they’re taking you… I’m sure they’ll have eyes on it. If McGovern is there Thad, then its a whole new ball game.”

His comment perks up my ears.

”If McGovern is there… there will be surveillance feeds that he’s able to see and monitor… If we can hack that equipment, it gives us the location of the satellite.”

”At which point then Lincoln, I’m assuming it starts breaking down the walls to the other satellites?” Jim asks.

Tritter nods.

”Which gives us a road map to their other locations and strongholds,” he concludes aloud.

”Precisely.”

”That about settles it then,” I say as a matter of fact. ”I let them take the plane, take me, in hopes that the plane’s location gives you their location, which then results in us being able to track them at every turn.”

Tritter nods again.

”Thad?” Frankie interrupts from beside me. ”Why can’t you just fight them? You’re good at it.”

”Because its too risky,” I answer. I know he’s looking for reassurance but I just don’t have any to give him at the moment. ”One day when you’re bigger, you’ll understand that sometimes the safest course of action is also the hardest.

“You’ll be in the safe room so no matter what happens Frankie, you will be safe.”

”What about you?”

I pause momentarily. I want to tell him that everything will be fine but I can’t possibly know that. If I don’t know that, I can’t tell him that. Lying to him isn’t what I want what could be one of my final acts to be.

”Is this what we’ve become?” comes a voice from behind me.

The scene in the room fades to near blackness. Looking around me, its as if everyone on the call and everyone in the room just stopped in time, leaving only me. Turning behind me to find the source of the voice, I find my grandfather sitting in a chair, his cane beside him. While I’m not sure why it didn’t register as Asmodeus, I knew it was his voice.

”Grandfather,” I say sheepishly. Like a soldier with post traumatic stress hearing a loud bang, I’m immediately humbled in his presence. Old fears of disappointing him once again rear their ugly heads. I wonder to myself if Doc D’Ville isn’t somehow behind this. The entire journey to High Stakes, he found ways to get into my head, into my memories and pull out the worst of them. Many of them, centered around the relationship and the mentoring if my grandfather toward me.

Seeing someone “live and in the flesh” who has been dead now more than five years could make some people sick, or even feel that they’re losing their mind. They fear it. The fact is, I’ve seen these… visions… for lack of a better term, of him since the day he died. Sometimes frequently, sometimes a year passes.

”Who taught you to cower in fear, boy?” he asks as he rises from his chair. ”The Thaddeus I raised would never cower in the face of danger!”

I don’t answer his query. Instead, I look at the frozen in time Francis Robert, then back at Asmodeus.

”Love has made you weak,” he says as he shakes his head, venturing slowly around the far side of the table.

”That’s where you’re wrong,” I tell him, turning my body to follow him. ”Love has made me act smarter. There’s more to this world, grandfather, than just some hatred for an old idea like the Church.”

”Is that so?”

I nod in response.

”The Thaddeus I knew when I left this world, dear boy, would not just allow this to happen,” he says, slamming his fist on the far side of the table. Admittedly, it makes me jump just a little.

”What would you have me do?” I inquire with a bit of hesitation.

”You wait until this plane lands, and you destroy them all, Thaddeus!”

”With what exactly?”

Asmodeus shakes his head and looks down at the surface of the table.

He shakes his finger in Frankie’s direction. ”You have that boys protection detail on board! I know you have a cache of arms on board!” he shouts. It’s not anger he’s shouting with, but one of tutelage. He’s trying to get me to understand things in a way he did when I was 15 years old.

”When this plane lands boy,” he says as he rests his palms on the table, raising his eyes to meet mine. ”They’re coming for your head.”

He looks over at the beautiful ten year old boy to my left, the worried look in his eyes still frozen in place. Then looks back at me.

”You’ve privately thought of making that boy your heir, no?” he asks.

”I have,” I answer him. He takes the eyeglasses from his face and wipes his eyes a second, before replacing them on his face. ”Make no mistake, whatever is left of the Illuminatus when this is all over, when I’m all over, goes to him.

“He is my heir, grandfather.”

”Strange, don’t you think?” he asks, giving me a feeling of curiosity. ”You’ve spent the last few years of your life denying who you are. Who you really are. You’ve run from your responsibilities more than once all the while claiming this life was thrust onto you by things outside of your control.”

He grunts as he takes a seat in a chair. Leaning forward upon his cane.

”Yet here you are, thrusting your life, your responsibilities onto a boy not equipped to carry that burden,” he says as he looks up at me. That’s a pretty valid point.

”How do you know he’s not equipped?” I ask of my grandfather. ”He’s good. He’s kind. He’s decent. He’d be a just ruler.”

”That’s all well and good Thaddeus, but you left out a rather important trait,” he retorts. ”One I know you still possess, and one he needs you to use.”

”What?”

”When they’re done with you and they come for him, who’s alive to protect him? Who’s alive to make sure he makes it out of this?”

I have no answer.

”What stands between the Ares Project and Francis’s death?”

The question makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t fathom such a thing.

”Your ruthlessness,” he answers his own question.

”Grandfather, I...”

”Quiet boy!” he shouts as he pops out of the chair. ”What happened in Berlin at the airfield?”

A lot of things happened at that base. Without even realizing it, I pull Harold Jenkins dog tags from inside my shirt, passing them between my thumb and forefinger.

”They hit you hard and you hit them back with a coldness, a ruthlessness that made this old man smile from within,” he says as he once again slumps back down into the chair. ”You were angry. You unleashed your war machine on these unprepared clowns. You were more than happy to return the favor of ruthless aggression and you’ve been lying to yourself ever since.”

”You’re wrong.”

”Am I?”

”I...” I begin to explain myself. Or attempt to, more accurately. Yet I can’t find the words. ”My War Machine, as you call it, isn’t here to help me. I have no planes. No bombs. No soldiers besides those guys,” I say, throwing my thumb in the direction of Frankie’s detail.

”There’s no way to win this,” I finally conclude.

Asmodeus stands from his chair and starts to pace the floor back and forth. He stops for a moment, looking up at the wall behind him, at the screen of his son, my father, frozen in time.

”It’s because you haven’t thought hard enough,” he fires back with a calm demeanor. Removing his eyes from my father, he slowly makes his way around the table toward me. Leaning his cane against the table, he places his hands on either of my shoulders, massaging gently. ”Look into his eyes, boy,” he says as he momentarily point toward my father on the screen before once again placing his hand on my shoulder.

”You know what he’s sacrificed for us?”

The question throws me for a loop a moment. Asmodeus rarely talked about sacrifices made in order to see his vision through. When he did, it was in broad terms. Never about individual sacrifices.

”His own happiness,” he begins to answer his own question. ”He endured and persevered through a great many things to give you the comfortable life you now lead.”

”Grandfather, I know...”

”Quiet!” he shouts out. ”You see a man that lost his wife, for the cause. A man that lost his best friend for the cause. You see a man, Thaddeus, that lost his only son once upon a time and while maybe I didn’t acknowledge his sacrifices when I was among you all, I never once refused to acknowledge it in my mind.”

”I can’t risk retaking the plane,” I say to him as I crane my neck to look up at him.

”The way I see it, you have two choices. Surrender, or fight. We surrender to no man, Thaddeus. If you surrender, allow them to take you captive, you’re as good as dead.”

”I know,” I admit with a sigh.

”You need to be smart and ruthless my boy,” he informs me as he removes his hands from my shoulders. I turn to look at him, but Asmodeus is gone. The Sit Room brightens and the frozen faces of those I trust and those I love are alive again.

”Guys,” I say aloud, looking up at the screens. ”I have a different idea.”

For as good as Chris Page is, and as good as he claims to be. For as smart as he is and claims to be. He really is clueless as far as the modern day approach to branding and extending brands into the mainstream. What I’m referring to is avenues and ventures outside of professional wrestling. See, he cries quite a bit. Maybe not so much tears, but he’s bitching and moaning and complaining that I didn’t fly my happy ass from the set of ‘Department 17’ to Italy to sign a god damn piece of paper, when number one, I accepted his challenge on national television and two, that verbal acceptance was already the equivalent of a verbal contract.

Granted, I know he hasn’t branched outside of professional wrestling so the only thing he has to go on is wrestling contracts where one guy signs for a match that’s as good as booked anyway and the other guy signs on the dotted line in agreement. Having done things other than wrestling, I do know a thing or two about contracts. The fact of the matter is, Dustin Diamond’s… err… Derrick Diamond’s attempt to build hype for a match that needed no additional hype, flying halfway around the world to sign a piece of paper when it’s already redundant as it is, didn’t seem to me to be what was best for business.

As I said, this match sells itself because the wrestling world, the fans, the papers, the shows… they’re all talking about it because I’m the one promoting the hell out of it everywhere I go. Do you think any of that happens without someone making time out of their busy schedules to drop the XWF name, to drop the Snow Job name, to drop, yes, even Chris Page’s name to outlets that wouldn’t normally cover any of that?

While you might be stuck in the 1980’s Chris, the year is 2021 and when the premier champion in the company is out on his own dime, is out shooting TV shows, is out on talk shows, is out talking to print outlets and other media, it extends the XWF brand as well as my own. You’re too short sighted to see it and that in and of itself tells me you ain’t got what it takes to be the top dog. How would Chris Page bring more eyeballs into the company if all he ever does is stay within the company? It’s the same viewers every week Chris. You don’t bring in new eyeballs by, first of all being an out of shape smoldering star that was always damn good but never quite good enough to reach the pinnacle of the highest mountain. You certainly don’t bring in more viewers and earn more eyeballs on the XWF product by playing to the same crowd.

You can bitch and moan that I couldn’t sign your arbitrary and redundant piece of paper in acceptance of this match but here we are, right? We’re just a day away from Snow Job now and the last I checked, we are actually having that match that you challenged me to, The same match I agreed to. The same match you thought I was trying to weasel out of by sending Heyman in my stead to sign that arbitrary redundant piece of paper.

You can cry and complain about me venturing outside of wrestling to do others things until Robert gives you that reach around to make you feel better. The fact is, these ventures outside the eyes of the XWF cameras and inside the eyes of other media avenues sheds more light onto the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. What I do when I’m not wrestling, what I do when I’m not signing that stupid meaningless piece of paper, grows the XWF.

Moving on from the Chris Page Bitch Session version 2021, we now move onto the same dumb shit that the unimaginative always rely on. One thing nearly everyone has said about me in the closing stages of a promo cycle. The age old recycled content accusing me of questioning myself, or more appropriately, doubting myself. While I make no statements to the contrary regarding self doubt in my past tenures here in the XWF, has there been one time since my return where I questioned my resolve to win? Even in the few losses I’ve taken since my re-emergence from the shadows Chris Page, not one single time did I ever doubt my ability to win. Not one time did I ever think that someone was better than me.

I’ve been back on XWF programming for almost eight months. I’ve enjoyed it all. The successes and the defeats. In those eight months Chris, two people enjoy that distinction of beating me. Robbie Bourbon… and you. See, you’ve gone on record now countless times claiming I make excuses for that loss to you. Excuses are reasons to make yourself feel better about failure and allow me to be perfectly fucking clear: failure is never acceptable. I don’t and never have tried to stroke my ego to soften the blow of failure. That’s your bag, daddy. My loss to you is fact. The reason I lost is also fact. I allowed myself to be distracted. I’m on record multiple times owning it yet you still claim I don’t. You really can’t own anything more than saying in any statement the word ‘I.’ Kind of fitting though if you think about it. You refer to me as a walking contradiction every time you open your geriatric mouth, yet I’ve heard nothing but excuses from you every time you talk about our other matches that followed.

You know the ones.

The ones that I won.

Those ones that are supposedly unrelated to these current proceedings despite being the very reason we’re even having this match to begin with. Then its perfectly okay to invalidate those victories because you just couldn’t quite get over the hump and get the job done. It’s kind of your claim to fame isn’t it? Being unable to get over the hump? Always the bridesmaid, but never the bride.

Not only did you not catch the bouquet, your friend Robert did. It was his time to step to the plate yet… here you are Chris. Robert is missing in action and you hold his bouquet.

Clearly those things aren’t connected.

Know what else isn’t connected? Chris Page and reality. I think I’ll fix that at Lambeau.

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On Board Illuminatus Two || FL280/J239 || 9:21 AM

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