<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - March Madness 2021 PPV Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Wed, 06 May 2026 22:23:06 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Void of the Mind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40275 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:59:41 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40275
Play now! Download here!

Instructions:

Press Z to interact with objects!
Arrow keys to move!
Shift to sprint!
F4 for fullscreen!

SPECIAL THANKS TO:
-Ace for allowing me to pay him for this soundtrack.
-Noah for this sweet title screen.
-Everyone who has ever made an RPG Maker MV Asset or tutorial.(This shit is tough!)
]]>
Play now! Download here!

Instructions:

Press Z to interact with objects!
Arrow keys to move!
Shift to sprint!
F4 for fullscreen!

SPECIAL THANKS TO:
-Ace for allowing me to pay him for this soundtrack.
-Noah for this sweet title screen.
-Everyone who has ever made an RPG Maker MV Asset or tutorial.(This shit is tough!)
]]> <![CDATA[Haunted]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40283 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:58:59 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40283
So, that he didn’t have to lose control again.

He investigated the tiny marks that cast themselves over his ceiling. Some almost seemed like bodies or faces and others resembled clouds and music notes. He scanned his gaze until he found what seemed to be a pair of eyes looking back down at him. The same eyes he had seen in the recording of The Nefarious One.

Ned looked away from the ceiling.

Pointing his stare at the creases and folds on his bed, Ned attempted to find some other detail to focus on. Whatever he could to keep himself in this moment. To keep himself as himself. And yet, that drifting feeling began to return. As if his eyes were becoming glassy and the feeling in his body was disappearing. Or being transferred. Ned didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to wake up here again a day later. With a final ounce of desperation coursing through his bloodstream, Ned prayed for some intervention. For some act of God to stop him from becoming the reflection again instead of the form.

Despite all odds and Ned’s own disbelief, his prayer was answered.

A doorbell ring. Ned considered lying down more, maybe having the visitor ring it again just to feel more like everything around him was real. But there was the chance that it was any number of sources that would only ring once and then depart. After a short eternity considering the options in his head, Ned began to walk downstairs. Each step was a trial, a difficult test to see if Ned was truly in any condition to talk to someone. What if he blacked out while speaking? What if he was still awake as whatever… it was took control. Would he have to watch it do horrible things as he stood helplessly behind eyes he couldn’t even shut?

Somehow, Ned made it to the bottom of the stairs. With a few more steps, he had made it to the door. There was a peephole, but trying to put that sort of energy into getting an early glance at a potential visitor was too much for Kaye at that time.

Still, as he opened the door, he wished he had peered through it anyway.

Steven Cooper stood in front Ned, looking a little impatient.

“Jesus, what took you so long, boss?”

Ned slammed the door in his face.

Pressing his back against the door, Ned tried to process the situation. He hadn’t been in a stable state of mind for more than a week. Maybe this was all apart of that? Another way to destabilize him? He was moments away from sinking into his own paranoia again when he heard Cooper’s frustrated grunting and a loud knock on the door.

“Jesus, not this whole rodeo, again…”

Ned opened the door, peeking out to meet Steve’s gaze.

“...Again? What do you mean again?”

“Well, I’ll let you know I’m a much better storyteller inside of houses, so if ya’d let me in, maybe I can sort some things out for you?”


“Is this really the best coffee you have?”

Ned held the pot of coffee by the handle, noticing Cooper’s disgusted face. He shrugged, saying “Unfortunately, I’m not really a drinker. I just have stuff in case someone else wants some.”

“So, you have a coffee maker-”

Steven paused.

“And you don’t drink coffee?”

“It was my fiance’s.”

“My condolences.”

“Thanks.”

The two shared an uncomfortable silence before Steven leaped at the chance to break it

“Hey, if you’re gonna serve me this crap, could you at least hand me some sugar to drown it in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Ned walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a small bag of sugar and placing it on the table next to Cooper’s mug. Cooper wasted not time at all dumping some sugar into his drink. Ned averted his gaze, mostly due to the discomfort of even having this man around in the first place before asking the question that burned on his mind.

“When did we first meet?”

Steve chuckled, seemingly keeping something to himself.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yeah.”

Steven cracked his knuckles and sat back in the chair, lifting up his mug.

“It was a month or two back.”


Steven Cooper sat alone at a small table outside a coffee shop. He pressed the paper cup up to his lips. All of these corperations were rotating in all of these new options that were “environmentally friendly,” of them fucked up the flavor of the actual brew. So, it was nice when he was able to arrange this strange meeting with indie darling Ned Kaye at one of the last places in NYC that had the good old, non-recycled paper. He turned his head to determine whether or not the kid was actually gonna show. I mean, Steve understood the whole fashionably late thing, but it was nearly half an hour by now. He was about to pick up his things and go when he saw him: dark, black shades on and a navy blue jacket over his shoulders. He was smoking a cigarette and put it out using the sole of his shoe before approaching Steve’s table. He sat across from Steve and immediately propped up his feet on the table. Cooper had seen the kid on TV before and while the guy looked the part, he sure didn’t act it.

“...Ned?” Steven asked with genuine uncertainty.

“In the flesh.”

Steven considered what to ask next, but just fell back on the immediate question that bugged him.

“So, you said we were gonna discuss something groundbreaking. Something that maybe would reward me as a coach and a wrestler? Maybe get in the XWF? Could you… elaborate?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,”replied “Ned”, “You’re thinking so small for someone with such a big history, Steve. I’m not here to just make your careerbetter or to help out one of your students. I’m here to change the world of wrestling as we know it.”

“Heh, large claims from a guy who can’t show up on time!”

“And yet you waited for me, Steve. Maybe I’m not as out of touch as you think. Maybe I know you better than yourself.”

“Kid, you just met me.”

“And I already knew you’d wait here for me same way I know you’re already going to say yes.”

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

Ned tossed an envelope onto the table. Cooper opened it up cautiously before realizing what it was.

An XWF contract. All ready, just waiting for him to sign.

“That’s how.”


“And that’s how we met, Kid.”

Steve looked over to Ned, who was turned around and oddly silent. In a swift moment, his enemeanor and stance had changed, pouring a cup of coffee for himself and downing it almost whole. He twisted his body to face Steve, a calm smile on his face.

“Sorry about the delay, Stev. You know I love to be fashionably late. Now, let’s talk business.”


It’s Getting Harder to Tell the Two of You Apart

A clip of Ned Kaye plays on an old television. He is visibly distraught, his hair an absolute mess, seemingly pleading into the camera.

“Edgar, I-... I need you to trust me! I don’t want the Hart Title, I don’t want to fight you! I know about as much of what’s going on as you do and you just… you-”

Ned looks down.

“You’ve already decided I’m guilty. I’m not. I’m not. For the love of God, I’m-”

The Nefarious One turns off the television, rolling his eyes.

“How did you all put up with that mess of a human being for two years straight? So apologetic. So worried about the feelings of others and how he’s viewed! So concerned with not coveting another man’s treasure.”

The Nefarious One smiles slyly, looking deep into the camera.

“I do not share Ned’s values, nor his desire to look exalted and clean in the eyes of those who surround him. No, no. I do covet things, especially things that are mine to steal from Ned himself. And that’s where you come in, Ed! Because originally, the plan was just to use my little moments of clarity to overwhelm Ned until there was just none of him left to get in my way. But while this body, a proverbial Cadillac, was under someone else’s watch, I lost my favorite hood emblem. And you’ve got it, Ed. So, of course, I had to let you be the first example of what happens when you cross me. Not Ned. Me.”

“I’m gonna wipe that smug, country boy grin off of your face faster than your name change ever could. And I’m gonna have some fun doing it. I mean, people were acting like you were some grand Hart Champion, the man who was gonna revitalize the brand after some lackluster title reigns and your only real defense was against a furry with a wolfpack that impresses only the adolescents in the crowd. What have you actually done, Edgar? Get beat up. By my group of guys, no less! Your title legacy is going to be in my shadow, Edgar! Utterly and entirely! People will mention you because of me and they’ll mention me because of what I am about to unfold. This is no ordinary, normal revolution, boys. This is some advanced shit!”

“But forget about the title, we all know you’re going to have to Sunday night anyway, what about your personal legacy? What will people be saying about you, R.L.? Maybe they’ll talk about that tag match with the Left Hand. Or you tag-teaming with Demos! Or maybe they’ll bring up someone with the name “Waters” and halfassedly recall that you do, indeed, exist! Why are you the champion when your entire life has been and continues to be decided by people with infinitely more talent than you do? Is that what you are, Edgar? Champion by association? Real great brand Warfare’s got there!”

He gives a mocking thumbs up.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised so many are rooting for you. See, nobody’s really met me yet, but they’re all desperately hoping that I’m not a threat, and if someone as pitiful as you waltzes in and beats me, then they’ve got nothing to fear. Unfortunately, the light they’re shining in that closet isn’t reserved only for shirts and old toys. No, a monster is lurking just out of sight and your ankle is the closest to sever. Hell, you’re not even the first example of my carnage! Remember Tula? Do you really think Ned of ALL people would injure a competitor? That was me leaking out, grabbing more hold over this form. You’re so unimportant in the eyes of history that it can’t even allow you to be the first person I hurt. What a shame.”

“Think about the words going ‘round, Ed. Are people really mentioning you even in a second breath? Or are they talking about me and Ned and the XWF’s “loss of innocence?” Hell, the way people frame it, you’d think I popped this company’s cherry and blocked its number the next day! Don’t worry XWF, you’ll lose a lot more than innocence once me and my merry men are done with you. Although, I can’t pretend as if the poor will benefit at all. We’d much rather dethrone the rich and give to ourselves.I know the most money you’ve ever sniffed is however much it is to buy a McChicken in the middle of nowhere, but trust me, Ed! We’ll have enough to buy at least five! You can count that high, right?”

“You know, all things considered, I am going to miss Ned for one reason. He made you feel like you had someone else in the world who understood you. A friend that would never betray your trust. He made you think that true good existed and unfortunately, I can only crush that pathetic fantasy once. How do you think I’ll look with it, Edgar? That belt that you lug around with you as if it matters to anyone outside of this company. Maybe I’ll eat a steak on it once I rip it out of your hands. Do you think it’s dishwasher safe? Nevermind. I think I’ll take the risk.”

“Times are a-changing, R.L. Heroes fall and never return. The violent inherit the Earth and her spoils. And people like you? They don’t get the heroic victories. They don’t get to take the big happy family pictures. They get forgotten. But our match will be nothing to forget, Edgar. Far from it. It’s to be etched upon the eyes of every man and woman in this company. This is when this became someone else’s stomping grounds. This is when safety and nobility died and out of its husk arose a devil beyond your comprehension. I have risen out of a frozen hell to drag you all down. Are you prepared to see the Eighth Circle, Edgar?

“Then you’d better be looking up.”]]>
So, that he didn’t have to lose control again.

He investigated the tiny marks that cast themselves over his ceiling. Some almost seemed like bodies or faces and others resembled clouds and music notes. He scanned his gaze until he found what seemed to be a pair of eyes looking back down at him. The same eyes he had seen in the recording of The Nefarious One.

Ned looked away from the ceiling.

Pointing his stare at the creases and folds on his bed, Ned attempted to find some other detail to focus on. Whatever he could to keep himself in this moment. To keep himself as himself. And yet, that drifting feeling began to return. As if his eyes were becoming glassy and the feeling in his body was disappearing. Or being transferred. Ned didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to wake up here again a day later. With a final ounce of desperation coursing through his bloodstream, Ned prayed for some intervention. For some act of God to stop him from becoming the reflection again instead of the form.

Despite all odds and Ned’s own disbelief, his prayer was answered.

A doorbell ring. Ned considered lying down more, maybe having the visitor ring it again just to feel more like everything around him was real. But there was the chance that it was any number of sources that would only ring once and then depart. After a short eternity considering the options in his head, Ned began to walk downstairs. Each step was a trial, a difficult test to see if Ned was truly in any condition to talk to someone. What if he blacked out while speaking? What if he was still awake as whatever… it was took control. Would he have to watch it do horrible things as he stood helplessly behind eyes he couldn’t even shut?

Somehow, Ned made it to the bottom of the stairs. With a few more steps, he had made it to the door. There was a peephole, but trying to put that sort of energy into getting an early glance at a potential visitor was too much for Kaye at that time.

Still, as he opened the door, he wished he had peered through it anyway.

Steven Cooper stood in front Ned, looking a little impatient.

“Jesus, what took you so long, boss?”

Ned slammed the door in his face.

Pressing his back against the door, Ned tried to process the situation. He hadn’t been in a stable state of mind for more than a week. Maybe this was all apart of that? Another way to destabilize him? He was moments away from sinking into his own paranoia again when he heard Cooper’s frustrated grunting and a loud knock on the door.

“Jesus, not this whole rodeo, again…”

Ned opened the door, peeking out to meet Steve’s gaze.

“...Again? What do you mean again?”

“Well, I’ll let you know I’m a much better storyteller inside of houses, so if ya’d let me in, maybe I can sort some things out for you?”


“Is this really the best coffee you have?”

Ned held the pot of coffee by the handle, noticing Cooper’s disgusted face. He shrugged, saying “Unfortunately, I’m not really a drinker. I just have stuff in case someone else wants some.”

“So, you have a coffee maker-”

Steven paused.

“And you don’t drink coffee?”

“It was my fiance’s.”

“My condolences.”

“Thanks.”

The two shared an uncomfortable silence before Steven leaped at the chance to break it

“Hey, if you’re gonna serve me this crap, could you at least hand me some sugar to drown it in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Ned walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a small bag of sugar and placing it on the table next to Cooper’s mug. Cooper wasted not time at all dumping some sugar into his drink. Ned averted his gaze, mostly due to the discomfort of even having this man around in the first place before asking the question that burned on his mind.

“When did we first meet?”

Steve chuckled, seemingly keeping something to himself.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yeah.”

Steven cracked his knuckles and sat back in the chair, lifting up his mug.

“It was a month or two back.”


Steven Cooper sat alone at a small table outside a coffee shop. He pressed the paper cup up to his lips. All of these corperations were rotating in all of these new options that were “environmentally friendly,” of them fucked up the flavor of the actual brew. So, it was nice when he was able to arrange this strange meeting with indie darling Ned Kaye at one of the last places in NYC that had the good old, non-recycled paper. He turned his head to determine whether or not the kid was actually gonna show. I mean, Steve understood the whole fashionably late thing, but it was nearly half an hour by now. He was about to pick up his things and go when he saw him: dark, black shades on and a navy blue jacket over his shoulders. He was smoking a cigarette and put it out using the sole of his shoe before approaching Steve’s table. He sat across from Steve and immediately propped up his feet on the table. Cooper had seen the kid on TV before and while the guy looked the part, he sure didn’t act it.

“...Ned?” Steven asked with genuine uncertainty.

“In the flesh.”

Steven considered what to ask next, but just fell back on the immediate question that bugged him.

“So, you said we were gonna discuss something groundbreaking. Something that maybe would reward me as a coach and a wrestler? Maybe get in the XWF? Could you… elaborate?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,”replied “Ned”, “You’re thinking so small for someone with such a big history, Steve. I’m not here to just make your careerbetter or to help out one of your students. I’m here to change the world of wrestling as we know it.”

“Heh, large claims from a guy who can’t show up on time!”

“And yet you waited for me, Steve. Maybe I’m not as out of touch as you think. Maybe I know you better than yourself.”

“Kid, you just met me.”

“And I already knew you’d wait here for me same way I know you’re already going to say yes.”

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

Ned tossed an envelope onto the table. Cooper opened it up cautiously before realizing what it was.

An XWF contract. All ready, just waiting for him to sign.

“That’s how.”


“And that’s how we met, Kid.”

Steve looked over to Ned, who was turned around and oddly silent. In a swift moment, his enemeanor and stance had changed, pouring a cup of coffee for himself and downing it almost whole. He twisted his body to face Steve, a calm smile on his face.

“Sorry about the delay, Stev. You know I love to be fashionably late. Now, let’s talk business.”


It’s Getting Harder to Tell the Two of You Apart

A clip of Ned Kaye plays on an old television. He is visibly distraught, his hair an absolute mess, seemingly pleading into the camera.

“Edgar, I-... I need you to trust me! I don’t want the Hart Title, I don’t want to fight you! I know about as much of what’s going on as you do and you just… you-”

Ned looks down.

“You’ve already decided I’m guilty. I’m not. I’m not. For the love of God, I’m-”

The Nefarious One turns off the television, rolling his eyes.

“How did you all put up with that mess of a human being for two years straight? So apologetic. So worried about the feelings of others and how he’s viewed! So concerned with not coveting another man’s treasure.”

The Nefarious One smiles slyly, looking deep into the camera.

“I do not share Ned’s values, nor his desire to look exalted and clean in the eyes of those who surround him. No, no. I do covet things, especially things that are mine to steal from Ned himself. And that’s where you come in, Ed! Because originally, the plan was just to use my little moments of clarity to overwhelm Ned until there was just none of him left to get in my way. But while this body, a proverbial Cadillac, was under someone else’s watch, I lost my favorite hood emblem. And you’ve got it, Ed. So, of course, I had to let you be the first example of what happens when you cross me. Not Ned. Me.”

“I’m gonna wipe that smug, country boy grin off of your face faster than your name change ever could. And I’m gonna have some fun doing it. I mean, people were acting like you were some grand Hart Champion, the man who was gonna revitalize the brand after some lackluster title reigns and your only real defense was against a furry with a wolfpack that impresses only the adolescents in the crowd. What have you actually done, Edgar? Get beat up. By my group of guys, no less! Your title legacy is going to be in my shadow, Edgar! Utterly and entirely! People will mention you because of me and they’ll mention me because of what I am about to unfold. This is no ordinary, normal revolution, boys. This is some advanced shit!”

“But forget about the title, we all know you’re going to have to Sunday night anyway, what about your personal legacy? What will people be saying about you, R.L.? Maybe they’ll talk about that tag match with the Left Hand. Or you tag-teaming with Demos! Or maybe they’ll bring up someone with the name “Waters” and halfassedly recall that you do, indeed, exist! Why are you the champion when your entire life has been and continues to be decided by people with infinitely more talent than you do? Is that what you are, Edgar? Champion by association? Real great brand Warfare’s got there!”

He gives a mocking thumbs up.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised so many are rooting for you. See, nobody’s really met me yet, but they’re all desperately hoping that I’m not a threat, and if someone as pitiful as you waltzes in and beats me, then they’ve got nothing to fear. Unfortunately, the light they’re shining in that closet isn’t reserved only for shirts and old toys. No, a monster is lurking just out of sight and your ankle is the closest to sever. Hell, you’re not even the first example of my carnage! Remember Tula? Do you really think Ned of ALL people would injure a competitor? That was me leaking out, grabbing more hold over this form. You’re so unimportant in the eyes of history that it can’t even allow you to be the first person I hurt. What a shame.”

“Think about the words going ‘round, Ed. Are people really mentioning you even in a second breath? Or are they talking about me and Ned and the XWF’s “loss of innocence?” Hell, the way people frame it, you’d think I popped this company’s cherry and blocked its number the next day! Don’t worry XWF, you’ll lose a lot more than innocence once me and my merry men are done with you. Although, I can’t pretend as if the poor will benefit at all. We’d much rather dethrone the rich and give to ourselves.I know the most money you’ve ever sniffed is however much it is to buy a McChicken in the middle of nowhere, but trust me, Ed! We’ll have enough to buy at least five! You can count that high, right?”

“You know, all things considered, I am going to miss Ned for one reason. He made you feel like you had someone else in the world who understood you. A friend that would never betray your trust. He made you think that true good existed and unfortunately, I can only crush that pathetic fantasy once. How do you think I’ll look with it, Edgar? That belt that you lug around with you as if it matters to anyone outside of this company. Maybe I’ll eat a steak on it once I rip it out of your hands. Do you think it’s dishwasher safe? Nevermind. I think I’ll take the risk.”

“Times are a-changing, R.L. Heroes fall and never return. The violent inherit the Earth and her spoils. And people like you? They don’t get the heroic victories. They don’t get to take the big happy family pictures. They get forgotten. But our match will be nothing to forget, Edgar. Far from it. It’s to be etched upon the eyes of every man and woman in this company. This is when this became someone else’s stomping grounds. This is when safety and nobility died and out of its husk arose a devil beyond your comprehension. I have risen out of a frozen hell to drag you all down. Are you prepared to see the Eighth Circle, Edgar?

“Then you’d better be looking up.”]]> <![CDATA[Wacko doctor and going through to win the tournament.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40285 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:58:38 -0700 Kieran Overton]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40285 Kieran's day out with Chase. Las Vegas, Nevada. Saturday 20th March (Off-Camera)

Kieran could be proud he defeated Noah Jackson in the last few days of his matches, although the matches he could very well be in are the biggest ones of his entire career. However, today was not about wrestling for Kieran; it was more a day out with Chase, after skateboarding in a competition today, the first time as a professional. Chase has a massive smile on his face, beaming with delight, despite being fifth from last, but he still had a smile on his face.

Chase Overton: "Is it always like this when your wrestling with the crowd cheering for you?"

Kieran Overton: "Well, if your a good guy in wrestling, yes, that is the norm for the crowd to go crazy. For me, however, it doesn't bother me; the fans don't like me, and that's what I prefer to be."

Chase Overton: "I guess because you are the kind of guy who doesn't give a shit about people anyway."

Kieran Overton: "It's hard enough taking care of you, let alone doing things for fan approval. I was cheered a bit during that stupid match I had with Miss Fury, but I hated it because it wasn't for me."

Chase knows what Kieran's like out of the ring, wasn't like he was eight and wondered if Kieran was this horrible guy out of the ring. Chase understands somewhat about wrestling. Not enough, however. Kieran was the same with Skateboarding, not knowing the rules or anything from the sport. They walk from the skate park where Chase had a professional skaters competition that finished five minutes ago, walking down the alleyway together.

Chase Overton: "I like that my parents came to my first ever professional skateboarding competition last week, and you came this week."

Kieran Overton: "Because you're my brother. I may not know everything about families yet, but if your happy coming fifth from last, then that says a lot that you didn't care if you didn't win big bucks or anything of a sort."

Chase Overton: "No, because for the first time in my entire life, I felt respected and liked within the skating community. I love this sport, and I want to get better with the pros. I got a bit intimidated with the skills they can pull off, but once I did my stuff, I got more comfortable."

Kieran pats his little brother around his shoulder, knowing how proud he is of his skateboarding achievements. However, there was some relation Kieran could relate when it comes to significant competition, and he feels nervous about it.

Kieran Overton: "I don't know how well I will go in the March Madness tournament. Sure, I could be facing more than just Doctor Louis D'Ville in the ring if I advance through, but at the same time, going against multiple opponents will not be easy for me. It's easier to fail and crash at Skateboarding than it is winning the March Madness tournament."

Chase Overton: "Oh, please, since when you've worried about wrestling? You did well against that idiot who forgot the match you had with him a few weeks ago."

Kieran Overton: "The truth is, I was lucky to advance. I felt Miss Fury screwed me, but I advanced by choice and won against Noah Jackson, who forgot to acknowledge the match I had a year ago with him. He was an idiot who kept saying cunt to everyone he wrestles against."

Chase Overton: "It's like what I said, it's about having fun, and that's what matters. Not getting yourself a title shot against the XWF champion and winning matches."

Kieran nodded at Chase, seeing his entire point about wrestling and other things like that, but it was a different situation than for Chase, a professional skateboarding rookie.

Kieran Overton: "It's not the same man. You can be happy to do your thing because you're still a rookie in the sport. I'm not when it comes to wrestling and this March Madness tournament. I don't know who my opponent is very well, apart from being some doctor and some tag champion. That's all I can gather."

Chase Overton: "Well, it is like me today; I didn't know any of these skaters, apart from the guy who gave me a big cheque and trophy in the amateur skateboarding competition, but I've learnt a lot today from him and every other skater, wanting me to get better because I'm the future of the sport."

Kieran Overton: "I get your point, and I shouldn't give a shit what this doctor dude says to me. I usually don't, nor do I with the rest of the opponents either, apart from Miss Fury. Regardless, I should go down to The Monstimals gym tomorrow and work out. I don't understand the deal with Markus being in XWF, though; he won't tell me why he's there."

Chase Overton: "Well, it has something to do with his brother on beating this Sarah lady up, and after the shit, you said about him from my resources, I think you can understand why. I'm sure you wouldn't want Markus to talk shit about me, and you wouldn't trust him, would you?"

Kieran Overton: "Yes, I understand that. I can't worry about him when I have some stupid fuckers to beat and win the entire tournament. At least this time walking together, you were able to be safe as we approach our home."

Chase nodded as everything this time went right, despite the concerns on Kieran's face with wrestling. Still, Chase was over the moon about skating with the professionals and never thought he'd be a star of the entire competition; despite being fifth from last, it's still a performance everyone, including Kieran, will remember.

They went into their home with Kieran closing the door, and their parents smiled at Kieran and Chase for not getting into trouble this time before they went upstairs to do their thing in their bedrooms.

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

This tournament is mine, and beating some stupid doctor is my goal to do so twitch.com shoot (On-Camera)

"Ah, I knew Noah Jackson would be stupid enough to forget about the fact he and I fought before the March Madness qualifying tournament match where he won, but now I beat his ass because Noah is a lazy and useless man who can't buy a win anymore. It shows how useless as a wrestler he was without Fuzzy Bear winning matches for him.

Moving on, however, as I could care less about him, on the way he treated me like shit, now it's Doctor Louis D'Ville's turn to witness the destruction I'll cause to that fucker. I don't know if this guy is an actual doctor or not, but that doesn't matter because the only thing I know about him is being a tag team champion.

Truthfully, that's all I know and who I care to know because I took one look at this guy, and there's no chance in hell he can be winning matches as he is. I don't care about the shit talk you may have given me. Some fucking psychiatrist thinks that can help the entire world and somehow made his partner a better wrestler. None of that shit works.

You will never be able to help this angry, sick bastard from his anger and misery because I use anger and the form of treating you as if you need a professional doctor. Not the fake one you are portraying as once I'm done with you as you're in the way of destroying pathing my way through to the finals of the tournament to get that XWF title.

I don't need to do three other videos of me saying the same shit to you or anyone I will have to face because I don't give a damn about anyone. Not even you, but when I'm in the ring, I beat the living shit out of you because someone who's a tag champion shouldn't be in this damn match. Not even in the pathetic rumble, they are putting out for the losers who failed to make it through the tournament, so they get placed in the final since they can't work for shit.

I also know I could be facing Miss Fury again, who threw out shit at me I didn't care about. Do you honestly think I get offended by your shitty fat jokes? Na, I don't think so. You got more or less offended with the skinny women being all the same jokes because women in wrestling are a fucking insult. In my opinion, women should never be wrestlers.

They should do other sports that fit women like you better, like Gymnastics would suit a masked lady like yourself. I still stand by my statements on you being a complete utter joke. I can take the doctor guy more severe than you because at least he looks like a wrestler and takes this business seriously, but you don't.

Maybe I bring an old HCW Hardcore title belt here, and then we'll be even with the fake titles we carry around. I don't need to win fake fucking titles like the ones we had here previously; I want real titles like the tag titles Doctor Louis D'Ville holds.

I'm still going to beat the shit out of him regardless because he doesn't have the killer instinct to win himself a shot for the title. Nor does Miss Fury either; well, weak women never are fit enough for that. Miss Fury's better off facing the Shooting Star title, and that's the only belt you will ever win.

Being overweight makes me a real wrestler because I'm more than capable of being a heavyweight and being a champion; that's what wrestling needs. A champion who's a heavyweight to carry a belt, something that people like Osira Themis, Betsy Granger and Atara Themis can't ever do because their gender hinders that.

I'm all of those qualities a wrestler has, and the majority of you are jealous that you can't look like wrestlers and become overweight; unlike me, you'd be too scared of having people judge you for your weight. I'm not because I'm proud of being fat, but at the same time, proud that everyone fears the destructive beast.

While I haven't mentioned people's names in the rumble because there's too many of you fuckers to mention and opponents to be like Solace Tatum and Shawn Warstein, who I know will put up a fight against me. Still, the point is no matter who the fuck faces me for the tournament; I will still beat the daylights out of Doctor, who somehow made it this far and drawn out of the lucky hat to face me, a guy who will be beating this doctor wacko senseless.

I don't care, as I said, for your achievements, especially when being a tag champion does not help your cause of being an individual wrestler and thinking you got this match in the bag. No, fuck out of here with your four fucking videos of what you have done for the match, most likely. I said everything I needed to say in this one video.

That's all I need to show everyone I'm a threat to take the entire tournament, and I will deliver what a construction site will look like. Everyone will fear The Destructive Beast because I will be winning and clinching my shot for the XWF title, and none of you sons of bitches will do a damn thing about it. I deserve the XWF title shot more than any of you do because, unlike everyone else in this damn tournament, I won't resist having a killer instinct in the ring and winning this tournament that I need to restart, kicking the era of The Destructive Beast's time at the top. I will pin Doctor and all of you sons of bitches either for the three count or make any one of you tap out, showing how weak and pathetic you all are."]]> Kieran's day out with Chase. Las Vegas, Nevada. Saturday 20th March (Off-Camera)

Kieran could be proud he defeated Noah Jackson in the last few days of his matches, although the matches he could very well be in are the biggest ones of his entire career. However, today was not about wrestling for Kieran; it was more a day out with Chase, after skateboarding in a competition today, the first time as a professional. Chase has a massive smile on his face, beaming with delight, despite being fifth from last, but he still had a smile on his face.

Chase Overton: "Is it always like this when your wrestling with the crowd cheering for you?"

Kieran Overton: "Well, if your a good guy in wrestling, yes, that is the norm for the crowd to go crazy. For me, however, it doesn't bother me; the fans don't like me, and that's what I prefer to be."

Chase Overton: "I guess because you are the kind of guy who doesn't give a shit about people anyway."

Kieran Overton: "It's hard enough taking care of you, let alone doing things for fan approval. I was cheered a bit during that stupid match I had with Miss Fury, but I hated it because it wasn't for me."

Chase knows what Kieran's like out of the ring, wasn't like he was eight and wondered if Kieran was this horrible guy out of the ring. Chase understands somewhat about wrestling. Not enough, however. Kieran was the same with Skateboarding, not knowing the rules or anything from the sport. They walk from the skate park where Chase had a professional skaters competition that finished five minutes ago, walking down the alleyway together.

Chase Overton: "I like that my parents came to my first ever professional skateboarding competition last week, and you came this week."

Kieran Overton: "Because you're my brother. I may not know everything about families yet, but if your happy coming fifth from last, then that says a lot that you didn't care if you didn't win big bucks or anything of a sort."

Chase Overton: "No, because for the first time in my entire life, I felt respected and liked within the skating community. I love this sport, and I want to get better with the pros. I got a bit intimidated with the skills they can pull off, but once I did my stuff, I got more comfortable."

Kieran pats his little brother around his shoulder, knowing how proud he is of his skateboarding achievements. However, there was some relation Kieran could relate when it comes to significant competition, and he feels nervous about it.

Kieran Overton: "I don't know how well I will go in the March Madness tournament. Sure, I could be facing more than just Doctor Louis D'Ville in the ring if I advance through, but at the same time, going against multiple opponents will not be easy for me. It's easier to fail and crash at Skateboarding than it is winning the March Madness tournament."

Chase Overton: "Oh, please, since when you've worried about wrestling? You did well against that idiot who forgot the match you had with him a few weeks ago."

Kieran Overton: "The truth is, I was lucky to advance. I felt Miss Fury screwed me, but I advanced by choice and won against Noah Jackson, who forgot to acknowledge the match I had a year ago with him. He was an idiot who kept saying cunt to everyone he wrestles against."

Chase Overton: "It's like what I said, it's about having fun, and that's what matters. Not getting yourself a title shot against the XWF champion and winning matches."

Kieran nodded at Chase, seeing his entire point about wrestling and other things like that, but it was a different situation than for Chase, a professional skateboarding rookie.

Kieran Overton: "It's not the same man. You can be happy to do your thing because you're still a rookie in the sport. I'm not when it comes to wrestling and this March Madness tournament. I don't know who my opponent is very well, apart from being some doctor and some tag champion. That's all I can gather."

Chase Overton: "Well, it is like me today; I didn't know any of these skaters, apart from the guy who gave me a big cheque and trophy in the amateur skateboarding competition, but I've learnt a lot today from him and every other skater, wanting me to get better because I'm the future of the sport."

Kieran Overton: "I get your point, and I shouldn't give a shit what this doctor dude says to me. I usually don't, nor do I with the rest of the opponents either, apart from Miss Fury. Regardless, I should go down to The Monstimals gym tomorrow and work out. I don't understand the deal with Markus being in XWF, though; he won't tell me why he's there."

Chase Overton: "Well, it has something to do with his brother on beating this Sarah lady up, and after the shit, you said about him from my resources, I think you can understand why. I'm sure you wouldn't want Markus to talk shit about me, and you wouldn't trust him, would you?"

Kieran Overton: "Yes, I understand that. I can't worry about him when I have some stupid fuckers to beat and win the entire tournament. At least this time walking together, you were able to be safe as we approach our home."

Chase nodded as everything this time went right, despite the concerns on Kieran's face with wrestling. Still, Chase was over the moon about skating with the professionals and never thought he'd be a star of the entire competition; despite being fifth from last, it's still a performance everyone, including Kieran, will remember.

They went into their home with Kieran closing the door, and their parents smiled at Kieran and Chase for not getting into trouble this time before they went upstairs to do their thing in their bedrooms.

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

This tournament is mine, and beating some stupid doctor is my goal to do so twitch.com shoot (On-Camera)

"Ah, I knew Noah Jackson would be stupid enough to forget about the fact he and I fought before the March Madness qualifying tournament match where he won, but now I beat his ass because Noah is a lazy and useless man who can't buy a win anymore. It shows how useless as a wrestler he was without Fuzzy Bear winning matches for him.

Moving on, however, as I could care less about him, on the way he treated me like shit, now it's Doctor Louis D'Ville's turn to witness the destruction I'll cause to that fucker. I don't know if this guy is an actual doctor or not, but that doesn't matter because the only thing I know about him is being a tag team champion.

Truthfully, that's all I know and who I care to know because I took one look at this guy, and there's no chance in hell he can be winning matches as he is. I don't care about the shit talk you may have given me. Some fucking psychiatrist thinks that can help the entire world and somehow made his partner a better wrestler. None of that shit works.

You will never be able to help this angry, sick bastard from his anger and misery because I use anger and the form of treating you as if you need a professional doctor. Not the fake one you are portraying as once I'm done with you as you're in the way of destroying pathing my way through to the finals of the tournament to get that XWF title.

I don't need to do three other videos of me saying the same shit to you or anyone I will have to face because I don't give a damn about anyone. Not even you, but when I'm in the ring, I beat the living shit out of you because someone who's a tag champion shouldn't be in this damn match. Not even in the pathetic rumble, they are putting out for the losers who failed to make it through the tournament, so they get placed in the final since they can't work for shit.

I also know I could be facing Miss Fury again, who threw out shit at me I didn't care about. Do you honestly think I get offended by your shitty fat jokes? Na, I don't think so. You got more or less offended with the skinny women being all the same jokes because women in wrestling are a fucking insult. In my opinion, women should never be wrestlers.

They should do other sports that fit women like you better, like Gymnastics would suit a masked lady like yourself. I still stand by my statements on you being a complete utter joke. I can take the doctor guy more severe than you because at least he looks like a wrestler and takes this business seriously, but you don't.

Maybe I bring an old HCW Hardcore title belt here, and then we'll be even with the fake titles we carry around. I don't need to win fake fucking titles like the ones we had here previously; I want real titles like the tag titles Doctor Louis D'Ville holds.

I'm still going to beat the shit out of him regardless because he doesn't have the killer instinct to win himself a shot for the title. Nor does Miss Fury either; well, weak women never are fit enough for that. Miss Fury's better off facing the Shooting Star title, and that's the only belt you will ever win.

Being overweight makes me a real wrestler because I'm more than capable of being a heavyweight and being a champion; that's what wrestling needs. A champion who's a heavyweight to carry a belt, something that people like Osira Themis, Betsy Granger and Atara Themis can't ever do because their gender hinders that.

I'm all of those qualities a wrestler has, and the majority of you are jealous that you can't look like wrestlers and become overweight; unlike me, you'd be too scared of having people judge you for your weight. I'm not because I'm proud of being fat, but at the same time, proud that everyone fears the destructive beast.

While I haven't mentioned people's names in the rumble because there's too many of you fuckers to mention and opponents to be like Solace Tatum and Shawn Warstein, who I know will put up a fight against me. Still, the point is no matter who the fuck faces me for the tournament; I will still beat the daylights out of Doctor, who somehow made it this far and drawn out of the lucky hat to face me, a guy who will be beating this doctor wacko senseless.

I don't care, as I said, for your achievements, especially when being a tag champion does not help your cause of being an individual wrestler and thinking you got this match in the bag. No, fuck out of here with your four fucking videos of what you have done for the match, most likely. I said everything I needed to say in this one video.

That's all I need to show everyone I'm a threat to take the entire tournament, and I will deliver what a construction site will look like. Everyone will fear The Destructive Beast because I will be winning and clinching my shot for the XWF title, and none of you sons of bitches will do a damn thing about it. I deserve the XWF title shot more than any of you do because, unlike everyone else in this damn tournament, I won't resist having a killer instinct in the ring and winning this tournament that I need to restart, kicking the era of The Destructive Beast's time at the top. I will pin Doctor and all of you sons of bitches either for the three count or make any one of you tap out, showing how weak and pathetic you all are."]]> <![CDATA[Astral Feast Part 2]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40284 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:57:19 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40284

Make way for Doc D’Ville
Say hey, it's Doc D’Ville
Hey! Clear the way in the old Bazaar
Hey you, let us through
It's Continuum’s top star
Oh, come
Be the first on your block to meet his eye
A symphonic orchestra and choir burst out into song with no notice. Their music blasts through the grand doors of the banquet hall. The singers and instrument players waltz into the room, continuing to play in perfect harmony as they disrupt the party. A line of tap dancers follows closely behind them, tippy tapping on the marble floor. Behind them a pair of oxen carry a gold plated chariot with purple banners into the hall.

Make way, here he comes
Ring bells, bang the drums
You're contractually obligated to love this guy
Doc D’Ville, fabulous he, Ali Ababwa
Show some respect, boy, genuflect
Down on one knee
Now, try your best to stay calm
Brush up your Friday salaam
Then come and meet his spectacular coterie
The curtains of the chariot open and reveal Doc D’Ville’s surrogates to the crowd. Pasha Prcye, Emperor Lane, Corey “The Golden Child” Smith, and Lionheart Duke wave to the crowd with proud smiles on their faces. The audience goes crazy as Lionheart holds up the tag team championship belts.

Doc D’Ville, mighty is he, Ali Ababwa
Strong as ten regular men, definitely
He's faced the galloping hordes
A hundred bad guys with swords
Who sent those goons to their lords?
Why, Doc D’Ville
Fellas, he's got
(Long ass championship reigns)
Uh-huh, now the ladies, what he got?
(Long ass dick all day)
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
A man slowly follows along the epic ensemble. He is hunched over and walking with a cane in one hand. In his other hand he holds the handle to the oxygen tank rolling alongside him. A large dark cloak covers the man from head to toe making his features impossible to distinguish...until he pulls back his hood.

Doc D’Ville, handsome is he, Ali Ababwa
That physique! How can I speak?
Weak at my knees! You yummy boy


[Image: f9ac2d3b9c9346828379c78844d01f92--sith-l...acters.jpg]

“Does he have a vagina on his face?”

“I don’t think so, my liege…”

The crowd goes absolutely fucking bonkers as Doc D’Ville pulls back his hood. Betsy Granger stops in the middle of her gogo dancing to get down on her knees and start blowing kisses at her childhood icon. Notorious Ned Kaye claps enthusiastically with a stupid, childlike smile plastered across his face. The coterie hops out of their chariot and greets Doc D’Ville with handshakes, high fives, and immediate dick sucking.

“This is disgusting….”

“It kind of turns me on, to be honest…”

Demos stares judgmentally at the servant girl carrying a tray full of beers.

“This depravity makes a mockery of the entire tournament. Parading a living zombie around like he’s some sort of elite fighter. Kissing the ground he walks on. This worship of expired milk reeks of impoverished imagination.”

“But Demos, didn’t you lose to him in the first round?”

“But I’ve beaten everyone else that’s here!”

Demos turns away as he waves off his servant in disgust. Demos lets his empty rum bottle drop to the floor as he clumsily pushes himself to his feet. As Demos begins to walk towards the exit of the hall, presumably to get away from the constant dickriding, Pasha Pryce picks up a microphone and begins to speak over the loudspeakers.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQHUOC4x1rWey6Vrajndt6...Q&usqp=CAU]

“During the course of this tournament we have lost many brave warriors. Please, everyone, a moment of silence for all those who fell in combat and were not able to re-enter the tournament through the battle royale on account of their untimely deaths.

*AHEM* Here we go…”
Pasha Prcye pulls some reading glasses and a small piece of paper out of his robes. He notches his glasses atop his nose. He inspects the paper closely as he speaks.

“Jenny Myst, ripped through in truly entertaining fashion.

Kris Von Bonn, the blacksmith.

Melanie Childs, Emperor Lane’s misaborted fetus.

Ned Kaye, oh wait a moment….”

Pasha Pryce scans the crowd searchingly.

“Oh, there you are! My apologies. I wrote these notes before the tournament. Anyways, let me see who’s next...oh dear. It seems someone spilled applesauce on my notes…”

Doc D’Ville innocently laps up leftover applesauce from his chin as Pasha shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Well that’s enough about those losers. You’re all here today because you have made it to the grand showcase! Tomorrow night you all will fight until you fall, for my entertainment!

Some of you may die.

In fact, I’m hoping that a lot of you do! That would make this the greatest showcase ever!

Anywho, I’d just like you to take a moment to applaud our wonderful PREMIERE sponsors for this showcase! Lionheart Duke and Corey Smith!”

The partygoers give a standing ovation to the sponsors, hooting and hollering as Corey and Lionheart wave to the crowd. The cheers crescendo when Lionheart holds the championship belts up again. Demos looks down at his own championship belt in disgust.

Why don’t I get that treatment? I’m a champion the same as them!

Demos shook his head free of the intrusive thoughts as he pushed open the door to the backyard. Just before Demos was able to move through the open doorway he was confronted by a hysterical bitch. Champagne the stripper with tiny tits and no ass hollered at Demos as she stomped her high heel into the ground and crossed her arms over her washboard chest.

“No one’s tipping me anything! I had this exact same problem in the casinos in Vegas, god damn it! You’re in charge of the party, make them pay me attention!”

Demos rubbed the temple of his forehead with his hand as he sighed softly. His hand returned to his waist as he went to respond to the terse sex worker.

“No one is tipping you because nobody thinks you’re interesting. You haven’t done anything worthy of getting anyone’s attention. You just trip and stumble around on your platform. Anytime you execute a move correctly it was on accident. You look awkward, out of shape, and frankly, like you’re in the wrong profession. You just don’t have the assets that you need to succeed in your line of work.

You should stick to your day job. This industry just isn’t for you. Surely you have talents elsewhere. Just...not in this field of work. I’m sorry sweetie, but this is too competitive for you. There are so many superior choices to feast upon, why would anyone pay you the slightest mind? You are bland and vanilla, something everyone has seen before and no one wants anymore.

If you stay in this line of work your life will be worse off for it. No man will want to settle down with you when you degrade yourself on a nightly basis. You better wisen up, buttercup. This world will chew you up and spit you out.”

“Well I don’t give a rat’s ass about your opinion! You’re just a big fat paper champion! You don’t even defend that worthless belt you have!”

Demos chuckled softly as he rubbed his masked chin.

“They don’t even tip you enough for you to pay the cable bill, do they? How pitiful.”

Demos playfully tapped his championship gold.

“Little girlie, I’ve defended this championship belt against Azrael Erebus. I’ve defended this championship belt against Barney Green. I’ve defended this championship belt against Jenny Myst. I took this precious gold from Thunder Knuckles.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything to me!”

“Of course not. If you can’t afford cable, you certainly don’t make enough to subscribe to the newsletter. Let me tell you something darling: that right there racks up to wins against the 11th, 24th, and 44th best wrestlers of all time per the sanctioned rankings. Throw in a pin against the longest reigning shooting star champion of all time and I’m not sure what more could you possibly ask a man to do to prove his championship caliber.”

“Well….you could fight Big D!”

“Oh, you poor girl. You’re not dancing to pay for university courses, are you?”

Champagne threw her hands up in frustration before stomping away from Demos with angry little steps. Her nonexistent feminine features did not jiggle as she left. Pasha’s voice continued to blare out over the loudspeakers.

“Now back in my day every single fight was to the death. You see, as a frontines soldier during the Opium Sand Wars I had fights to the death everyday and I came out a better man for it. In the war you never knew who was a civilian and who was an enemy combatant. You had to treat everyone as a threat. I had six, seven, eight, nine, ten kids a day coming to my humvee! Now I don’t know if they have a suicide vest on or if they’re just coming up to give me a plate of cookies. And to be honest, my wife would kill me if I waited around to find out! So I had to gun them down one by one, two by two, and thank god that I was able to win those bloody fights to the death.

See, just like this tournament……”

Demos stepped out of the banquet hall as the door slammed shut behind him. Demos never did hear the full story of how Pasha Prcye’s war crimes related to the march madness tournament. A wave of relief washed over Demos. The gentle gusts of wind kissed his suntouched skin, drying his flesh as beads of sweat got carried away by the breeze. Tall grass brushed against the man’s bare calves, waving up and down his leg with the wind. He closed his eyes and touched his championship gold as he tried to soak in the peace of the moment.

The peace did not come to him.

He clutched his championship belt tighter while clenching his eyes. He waited for the peaceful bliss of the moment to sweep him off his feet.

The peace did not come to him.

“Is something troubling you, comrade?”

The whispers of a familiar voice traveled along the wind. Demos opened his eyes and turned his head to the side.

[Image: lxyke7i3mqdtyppgesh3.jpg]

A series of partially eroded hieroglyphic walls lined the foreground of the night sky.

“Some stories have been lost to time, but if you look closely enough you will see the liberating truth.”

Demos looked from side to side as the familiar voice whipped around him. The disembodied whispers came and went with the wind. Demos turned a curious eye back towards the crumbling walls. The proud champion approached the walls with hesitance in his step. Out of an abundance of caution he kept his distance, eyeing the ancient etchings from afar.

“Come, Demos. Your true destiny awaits you.”

The ghost of Kim Jong-il appears alongside the television champion. Standing at just a few hairs above five feet, the ghost almost seems to be a dwarf when compared to the towering Demos.

“There is nothing to be afraid of. The proletariat needs it’s warriors to be clear eyed and grounded in history if they are going to reign supreme in the struggle. Now go on.”

Kim Jong-il beckons for Demos to approach the wall. With an appreciative nod the champion confidently walks to the wall. Demos stands before the wall, his eyes scanning what remains of the hieroglyphs. The moon rolls through the sky and the party rages on inside the hall as Demos slowly traverses the ancient text. He brings his finger up to clear the dust from the remaining writing, swiftly sweeping the dirt off of the wall so as to not lose his place in the story. Kim Jong-il looked on approvingly as his Juche disciple studied the history of the belt he had held for so long.

Demos learned the history of his championship belt, the timeline of it’s origins to it’s placement around his very waist. Formed nearly a decade ago from the merger of a bunch of mostly irrelevant championship belts, the longest reigning television champion ever was a literal alien who was sent to earth after being voted the worst wrestler of the Gamma Gamma Quadrant. Demos learned that the belt he was so committed to used to be passed around like a common whore, never staying with one man for too long before he lost interest.

Demos learned that the one time someone reigned over the television division with similar dominance to Demos, the division was quickly shut down after the champion lost interest. The man holding the precious gold every night eventually grew bored of her and tossed her to the side, vacating his right to her glory.

The belt was never resuscitated until Dolly Waters breathed life into the division, only to have her flame stomped out by the now semi-retired Michael McBride. McBride, known across the world for his access to whatever woman he wants, jumped out of bed with the television championship at the first opportunity. The precious gold was once again vacated.

Since that moment the television championship became a cheap escort passing through the harems of every young up and comer who would eventually flame out. Such prestigious figures as Calypso and a literal nazi held the championship belt at one point. The federation would put anyone in a match for the television belt just to sell out a colosseum, no rank or pedigree required.

Demos read the hieroglyphs in wonder as he learned of the golden plate’s true purpose in the world. It became clear to Demos that the television championship had been created as yet another circus with which to distract the people. Created by the capitalists as a cheap carnival attraction, the television division was a creative method for keeping the people constantly entertained and enthralled with cheap tricks and short lived draws. It was never meant to remain around one waist for so long.

“What you thought was anchoring you to the masses has in fact been driving a wedge between you and your higher calling.”

Demos read along the wall until it trailed off, it’s more recent history lost to the harsh desert storms of the past. Demos turned back to face the ghost of Kim Jong-il with shame on his tired face.

“You have let the imperialists pull the wool over your eyes. Hoarding gold? Keeping an entire division buried beneath your thumb? Ordering servants around like some kind of dictator? You have not behaved like the Demos I know you can be. You have not acted like the Demos the starving masses are begging for you to be.

You have let the fame and accolades blind you. Main eventing shows, holding gold mined by slaves in Africa up over your head for rednecks and hillbillies to adore. That television championship has a purpose, but it’s purpose is not to devour you. You are being consumed by the vanity of gold. Your potential is being shackled to the very chalice you hold so dear.”

Demos dropped to his knees as a solitary tear slid down his cheek. The sprinkle of sadness sat atop the leather of the man’s mask before soaking into his beard. Demos had always wondered why he was never taken seriously. He never could understand why people weren’t as impressed by the man in the mirror as he was. Now it finally clicked. While Demos was an ancient warrior he was still relatively new to the XWF’s decades long history. What Demos thought was a precious metal was in fact nothing more than pyrite. Fool’s gold. A running gag gift that got passed around the locker room as a cheap prop to help give a limping star a boost for a show or two.

Demos had never felt more humiliated in his life. He reached around his back and unclipped the championship belt, letting it fall roughly to the ground below.

“But how….supreme leader….how can I beat Doc D’Ville? If all my accomplishments are nothing but grains of sand in the deserts of history...how can I ever hope to pin him?”

“By letting go.”

Demos sat silently as the words passed through the wind.

“Do not let the doctor play games with your mind. History washes away every preconceived notion and metaphysical barrier. Chairman Mao faced 30 years of defeat, setback, and retreat before he finally captured China and raised the communist banner. Huge Chavez failed when he first went to seize the capitol building in Caracas, only to return years later and raise the banner of the worker.

These men could only accomplish their great deeds by letting go and letting themselves float along the tides of history. What was Castro before the Cuban revolution? The son of a rich man and training lawyer? Whoever would have thought he could lead 50 some odd man in a revolution that would forever haunt the southern coast of the great dragon?

You have greatness inside of you, Demos. I’ve seen it before. I know you can stir it again.

The masses are waiting in anguish hoping for someone to end the madness.

Now is the time of revolutions, Demos.

Let go of all your personal baggage, let go off all the slights, brush off all the chips on your shoulder.

This is about something so much bigger than you.”

“What must I do?”

Demos asked pleadingly.

“Go. Prepare your armor and sharpen your blades. Leave your golden cows behind, for they will only slow you down. The workers of the world depend on you to put an end to this march of madness.”

Kim Jong-il evaporated into smoke as he spoke his final words. Demos slowly rose to his feet with fire in his eyes and determination in his heart. He left the championship belt laying in front of the wall as he walked towards the moonlight, prepared to fight for his destiny.


]]>

Make way for Doc D’Ville
Say hey, it's Doc D’Ville
Hey! Clear the way in the old Bazaar
Hey you, let us through
It's Continuum’s top star
Oh, come
Be the first on your block to meet his eye
A symphonic orchestra and choir burst out into song with no notice. Their music blasts through the grand doors of the banquet hall. The singers and instrument players waltz into the room, continuing to play in perfect harmony as they disrupt the party. A line of tap dancers follows closely behind them, tippy tapping on the marble floor. Behind them a pair of oxen carry a gold plated chariot with purple banners into the hall.

Make way, here he comes
Ring bells, bang the drums
You're contractually obligated to love this guy
Doc D’Ville, fabulous he, Ali Ababwa
Show some respect, boy, genuflect
Down on one knee
Now, try your best to stay calm
Brush up your Friday salaam
Then come and meet his spectacular coterie
The curtains of the chariot open and reveal Doc D’Ville’s surrogates to the crowd. Pasha Prcye, Emperor Lane, Corey “The Golden Child” Smith, and Lionheart Duke wave to the crowd with proud smiles on their faces. The audience goes crazy as Lionheart holds up the tag team championship belts.

Doc D’Ville, mighty is he, Ali Ababwa
Strong as ten regular men, definitely
He's faced the galloping hordes
A hundred bad guys with swords
Who sent those goons to their lords?
Why, Doc D’Ville
Fellas, he's got
(Long ass championship reigns)
Uh-huh, now the ladies, what he got?
(Long ass dick all day)
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
A man slowly follows along the epic ensemble. He is hunched over and walking with a cane in one hand. In his other hand he holds the handle to the oxygen tank rolling alongside him. A large dark cloak covers the man from head to toe making his features impossible to distinguish...until he pulls back his hood.

Doc D’Ville, handsome is he, Ali Ababwa
That physique! How can I speak?
Weak at my knees! You yummy boy


[Image: f9ac2d3b9c9346828379c78844d01f92--sith-l...acters.jpg]

“Does he have a vagina on his face?”

“I don’t think so, my liege…”

The crowd goes absolutely fucking bonkers as Doc D’Ville pulls back his hood. Betsy Granger stops in the middle of her gogo dancing to get down on her knees and start blowing kisses at her childhood icon. Notorious Ned Kaye claps enthusiastically with a stupid, childlike smile plastered across his face. The coterie hops out of their chariot and greets Doc D’Ville with handshakes, high fives, and immediate dick sucking.

“This is disgusting….”

“It kind of turns me on, to be honest…”

Demos stares judgmentally at the servant girl carrying a tray full of beers.

“This depravity makes a mockery of the entire tournament. Parading a living zombie around like he’s some sort of elite fighter. Kissing the ground he walks on. This worship of expired milk reeks of impoverished imagination.”

“But Demos, didn’t you lose to him in the first round?”

“But I’ve beaten everyone else that’s here!”

Demos turns away as he waves off his servant in disgust. Demos lets his empty rum bottle drop to the floor as he clumsily pushes himself to his feet. As Demos begins to walk towards the exit of the hall, presumably to get away from the constant dickriding, Pasha Pryce picks up a microphone and begins to speak over the loudspeakers.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQHUOC4x1rWey6Vrajndt6...Q&usqp=CAU]

“During the course of this tournament we have lost many brave warriors. Please, everyone, a moment of silence for all those who fell in combat and were not able to re-enter the tournament through the battle royale on account of their untimely deaths.

*AHEM* Here we go…”
Pasha Prcye pulls some reading glasses and a small piece of paper out of his robes. He notches his glasses atop his nose. He inspects the paper closely as he speaks.

“Jenny Myst, ripped through in truly entertaining fashion.

Kris Von Bonn, the blacksmith.

Melanie Childs, Emperor Lane’s misaborted fetus.

Ned Kaye, oh wait a moment….”

Pasha Pryce scans the crowd searchingly.

“Oh, there you are! My apologies. I wrote these notes before the tournament. Anyways, let me see who’s next...oh dear. It seems someone spilled applesauce on my notes…”

Doc D’Ville innocently laps up leftover applesauce from his chin as Pasha shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Well that’s enough about those losers. You’re all here today because you have made it to the grand showcase! Tomorrow night you all will fight until you fall, for my entertainment!

Some of you may die.

In fact, I’m hoping that a lot of you do! That would make this the greatest showcase ever!

Anywho, I’d just like you to take a moment to applaud our wonderful PREMIERE sponsors for this showcase! Lionheart Duke and Corey Smith!”

The partygoers give a standing ovation to the sponsors, hooting and hollering as Corey and Lionheart wave to the crowd. The cheers crescendo when Lionheart holds the championship belts up again. Demos looks down at his own championship belt in disgust.

Why don’t I get that treatment? I’m a champion the same as them!

Demos shook his head free of the intrusive thoughts as he pushed open the door to the backyard. Just before Demos was able to move through the open doorway he was confronted by a hysterical bitch. Champagne the stripper with tiny tits and no ass hollered at Demos as she stomped her high heel into the ground and crossed her arms over her washboard chest.

“No one’s tipping me anything! I had this exact same problem in the casinos in Vegas, god damn it! You’re in charge of the party, make them pay me attention!”

Demos rubbed the temple of his forehead with his hand as he sighed softly. His hand returned to his waist as he went to respond to the terse sex worker.

“No one is tipping you because nobody thinks you’re interesting. You haven’t done anything worthy of getting anyone’s attention. You just trip and stumble around on your platform. Anytime you execute a move correctly it was on accident. You look awkward, out of shape, and frankly, like you’re in the wrong profession. You just don’t have the assets that you need to succeed in your line of work.

You should stick to your day job. This industry just isn’t for you. Surely you have talents elsewhere. Just...not in this field of work. I’m sorry sweetie, but this is too competitive for you. There are so many superior choices to feast upon, why would anyone pay you the slightest mind? You are bland and vanilla, something everyone has seen before and no one wants anymore.

If you stay in this line of work your life will be worse off for it. No man will want to settle down with you when you degrade yourself on a nightly basis. You better wisen up, buttercup. This world will chew you up and spit you out.”

“Well I don’t give a rat’s ass about your opinion! You’re just a big fat paper champion! You don’t even defend that worthless belt you have!”

Demos chuckled softly as he rubbed his masked chin.

“They don’t even tip you enough for you to pay the cable bill, do they? How pitiful.”

Demos playfully tapped his championship gold.

“Little girlie, I’ve defended this championship belt against Azrael Erebus. I’ve defended this championship belt against Barney Green. I’ve defended this championship belt against Jenny Myst. I took this precious gold from Thunder Knuckles.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything to me!”

“Of course not. If you can’t afford cable, you certainly don’t make enough to subscribe to the newsletter. Let me tell you something darling: that right there racks up to wins against the 11th, 24th, and 44th best wrestlers of all time per the sanctioned rankings. Throw in a pin against the longest reigning shooting star champion of all time and I’m not sure what more could you possibly ask a man to do to prove his championship caliber.”

“Well….you could fight Big D!”

“Oh, you poor girl. You’re not dancing to pay for university courses, are you?”

Champagne threw her hands up in frustration before stomping away from Demos with angry little steps. Her nonexistent feminine features did not jiggle as she left. Pasha’s voice continued to blare out over the loudspeakers.

“Now back in my day every single fight was to the death. You see, as a frontines soldier during the Opium Sand Wars I had fights to the death everyday and I came out a better man for it. In the war you never knew who was a civilian and who was an enemy combatant. You had to treat everyone as a threat. I had six, seven, eight, nine, ten kids a day coming to my humvee! Now I don’t know if they have a suicide vest on or if they’re just coming up to give me a plate of cookies. And to be honest, my wife would kill me if I waited around to find out! So I had to gun them down one by one, two by two, and thank god that I was able to win those bloody fights to the death.

See, just like this tournament……”

Demos stepped out of the banquet hall as the door slammed shut behind him. Demos never did hear the full story of how Pasha Prcye’s war crimes related to the march madness tournament. A wave of relief washed over Demos. The gentle gusts of wind kissed his suntouched skin, drying his flesh as beads of sweat got carried away by the breeze. Tall grass brushed against the man’s bare calves, waving up and down his leg with the wind. He closed his eyes and touched his championship gold as he tried to soak in the peace of the moment.

The peace did not come to him.

He clutched his championship belt tighter while clenching his eyes. He waited for the peaceful bliss of the moment to sweep him off his feet.

The peace did not come to him.

“Is something troubling you, comrade?”

The whispers of a familiar voice traveled along the wind. Demos opened his eyes and turned his head to the side.

[Image: lxyke7i3mqdtyppgesh3.jpg]

A series of partially eroded hieroglyphic walls lined the foreground of the night sky.

“Some stories have been lost to time, but if you look closely enough you will see the liberating truth.”

Demos looked from side to side as the familiar voice whipped around him. The disembodied whispers came and went with the wind. Demos turned a curious eye back towards the crumbling walls. The proud champion approached the walls with hesitance in his step. Out of an abundance of caution he kept his distance, eyeing the ancient etchings from afar.

“Come, Demos. Your true destiny awaits you.”

The ghost of Kim Jong-il appears alongside the television champion. Standing at just a few hairs above five feet, the ghost almost seems to be a dwarf when compared to the towering Demos.

“There is nothing to be afraid of. The proletariat needs it’s warriors to be clear eyed and grounded in history if they are going to reign supreme in the struggle. Now go on.”

Kim Jong-il beckons for Demos to approach the wall. With an appreciative nod the champion confidently walks to the wall. Demos stands before the wall, his eyes scanning what remains of the hieroglyphs. The moon rolls through the sky and the party rages on inside the hall as Demos slowly traverses the ancient text. He brings his finger up to clear the dust from the remaining writing, swiftly sweeping the dirt off of the wall so as to not lose his place in the story. Kim Jong-il looked on approvingly as his Juche disciple studied the history of the belt he had held for so long.

Demos learned the history of his championship belt, the timeline of it’s origins to it’s placement around his very waist. Formed nearly a decade ago from the merger of a bunch of mostly irrelevant championship belts, the longest reigning television champion ever was a literal alien who was sent to earth after being voted the worst wrestler of the Gamma Gamma Quadrant. Demos learned that the belt he was so committed to used to be passed around like a common whore, never staying with one man for too long before he lost interest.

Demos learned that the one time someone reigned over the television division with similar dominance to Demos, the division was quickly shut down after the champion lost interest. The man holding the precious gold every night eventually grew bored of her and tossed her to the side, vacating his right to her glory.

The belt was never resuscitated until Dolly Waters breathed life into the division, only to have her flame stomped out by the now semi-retired Michael McBride. McBride, known across the world for his access to whatever woman he wants, jumped out of bed with the television championship at the first opportunity. The precious gold was once again vacated.

Since that moment the television championship became a cheap escort passing through the harems of every young up and comer who would eventually flame out. Such prestigious figures as Calypso and a literal nazi held the championship belt at one point. The federation would put anyone in a match for the television belt just to sell out a colosseum, no rank or pedigree required.

Demos read the hieroglyphs in wonder as he learned of the golden plate’s true purpose in the world. It became clear to Demos that the television championship had been created as yet another circus with which to distract the people. Created by the capitalists as a cheap carnival attraction, the television division was a creative method for keeping the people constantly entertained and enthralled with cheap tricks and short lived draws. It was never meant to remain around one waist for so long.

“What you thought was anchoring you to the masses has in fact been driving a wedge between you and your higher calling.”

Demos read along the wall until it trailed off, it’s more recent history lost to the harsh desert storms of the past. Demos turned back to face the ghost of Kim Jong-il with shame on his tired face.

“You have let the imperialists pull the wool over your eyes. Hoarding gold? Keeping an entire division buried beneath your thumb? Ordering servants around like some kind of dictator? You have not behaved like the Demos I know you can be. You have not acted like the Demos the starving masses are begging for you to be.

You have let the fame and accolades blind you. Main eventing shows, holding gold mined by slaves in Africa up over your head for rednecks and hillbillies to adore. That television championship has a purpose, but it’s purpose is not to devour you. You are being consumed by the vanity of gold. Your potential is being shackled to the very chalice you hold so dear.”

Demos dropped to his knees as a solitary tear slid down his cheek. The sprinkle of sadness sat atop the leather of the man’s mask before soaking into his beard. Demos had always wondered why he was never taken seriously. He never could understand why people weren’t as impressed by the man in the mirror as he was. Now it finally clicked. While Demos was an ancient warrior he was still relatively new to the XWF’s decades long history. What Demos thought was a precious metal was in fact nothing more than pyrite. Fool’s gold. A running gag gift that got passed around the locker room as a cheap prop to help give a limping star a boost for a show or two.

Demos had never felt more humiliated in his life. He reached around his back and unclipped the championship belt, letting it fall roughly to the ground below.

“But how….supreme leader….how can I beat Doc D’Ville? If all my accomplishments are nothing but grains of sand in the deserts of history...how can I ever hope to pin him?”

“By letting go.”

Demos sat silently as the words passed through the wind.

“Do not let the doctor play games with your mind. History washes away every preconceived notion and metaphysical barrier. Chairman Mao faced 30 years of defeat, setback, and retreat before he finally captured China and raised the communist banner. Huge Chavez failed when he first went to seize the capitol building in Caracas, only to return years later and raise the banner of the worker.

These men could only accomplish their great deeds by letting go and letting themselves float along the tides of history. What was Castro before the Cuban revolution? The son of a rich man and training lawyer? Whoever would have thought he could lead 50 some odd man in a revolution that would forever haunt the southern coast of the great dragon?

You have greatness inside of you, Demos. I’ve seen it before. I know you can stir it again.

The masses are waiting in anguish hoping for someone to end the madness.

Now is the time of revolutions, Demos.

Let go of all your personal baggage, let go off all the slights, brush off all the chips on your shoulder.

This is about something so much bigger than you.”

“What must I do?”

Demos asked pleadingly.

“Go. Prepare your armor and sharpen your blades. Leave your golden cows behind, for they will only slow you down. The workers of the world depend on you to put an end to this march of madness.”

Kim Jong-il evaporated into smoke as he spoke his final words. Demos slowly rose to his feet with fire in his eyes and determination in his heart. He left the championship belt laying in front of the wall as he walked towards the moonlight, prepared to fight for his destiny.


]]> <![CDATA[Your NEW King]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40281 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:41:00 -0700 Andre Dixon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40281
The scene opens up to Georgia State Prison located in Reidsville, Georgia approximately a year ago. Andre Dixon is currently locked up on an aggravated assault charge and is expected to be released in the next few months. We pan to the visitation area of the prison where we see a room with tables spread out far from each other. At the tables we can see different prisoners speaking with someone and a few visitors just sitting alone waiting. We see a Correctional Officer walking with Andre towards a table where we see someone waiting. He is wearing a black and blue XWF hoodie with the hood up and has an N95 mask. Not everyone is wearing a mask, including Andre. The CO uncuffs Andre and walks away as Andre sits down, looks around, and then looks at the man sitting in front of him.

"The fuck you want old man?"

"That how you talk to an old friend who came all the way out here? During COVID too? I'm surprised they even let me come visit you considering Covid is out of control. You guys aren't even wearing masks?"

"Yeah, apparently they say research shows that these visits make it less likely for us to go ape shit on each other in here. Plus our Governor is an idiot bro." He says shaking his head. "They got your ass wearing that shit though. Like I said though. The fuck you want?"

The man looks around."Look around man, looks like you could use some help right now."

"You think I need YOU to help ME?"

"I think we could help each other."

"I'll be out in a few months. I'll be aight." Andre says as he leans back in his chair and looks around again before looking back at the man.

"What's even waiting for you out there? Some more of what got you in here in the first place?"

"I got my n****z holdin' shit down for me till I get out. You wouldn't understand this life."

"I never said I did, but your uncle, he does."

"I don't give a fuck about him. What he actually cares now?"

"He always has you're just hard-headed. Plus do you actually think those guys give a damn about you or what happens to you? They don't give a fuck what happens to you."

"And you do?"

"Yeah believe it or not I do. I've seen what you can do. I need you next to me in a few months when shit hits the fan, and shit is going to hit the fan."

"You need me next to you, huh?"

"No, I want you next to me. I'm trying to help you out here and I do need people I can trust watching my back because like you I'm gonna be a wanted man real soon."

"I still don't see what me being your bodyguard is going to do for ME?"

"You wanna spend the rest of your life here? Then be my guest."

"I'll be out in a couple of months..."

"This time. But what happens the next time? This isn't your first time here."

"Yeah, and it probably won't be my last. What's the point? The way I see it is you need help. You said it yourself."

"I do. But in this scenario, we help each other out. Haven't you ever wanted to know what you can really do in the ring? You've got so much damn potential and instead of realizing that potential you're running the streets and worse you're locked up half the time."

"So you want me to come to the big, bad XWF?"

"We are talking about a takeover."

"I dunno man, I just don't know if that wrestling shit is for me anymore."

"Your uncle is an XWF legend. The XWF is in your blood whether you like it or not. You've got a few months left in here. Think about the offer. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be a part of something special. Something way bigger than me and you. We can change the XWF for a long time."

"I appreciate the offer but I don't think it's for me. I'm doing just fine on my own."

The man looks around.

"Sure does look like it..."

"It's easy for you to sit there and judge but you have no idea what I've been through."Andre knew he was right though. Things had to change and soon.

"You're right...I don't. But I'm willing to find out and I'm willing to help you. And that should count for something."

All of a sudden we hear the loudspeaker.

CO: 5 MINUTES REMAINING

"The way I see it we would be helping each other. You've got a few months left here so when you get out you can decide then. If you're interested then call your uncle or go see him and he will get things rolling."

"Why him and not you?" Andre asks knowing that things are currently very shaky with his uncle who didn't agree with his current style of life even though it was the same style of life Jayzon was about for a large portion of his life.

"Honestly, I don't want anything to know you're working with me until the time is right. We are gonna change the XWF and turn that shit upside down. I promise you that."

Andre sighs and sits back in his chair for a moment and looks around the room. He thinks for a moment before leaning back up.

"You gonna at least tell me about this thing? What my role will be and all that?"

"Not yet. It's all still in the works. A lot of different pieces and I mean a lot. In fact, you wouldn't even fit into the picture until this time next year."

"You're thinking a year ahead?" Andre asks in disbelief. Who knew where Andre would be a year from now, Andre definitely didn't.

"Damn right. I'm going to pull some shit that's going to change everything and I want you there with me. You're wasting your life and you're wasting your career right now. I know you just need someone to believe in you and I'm that guy. I can get you right back where you need to be."

Andre thinks for a moment but doesn't respond yet.

"Either way it was great to see you for the first time in nearly a decade. Looks like you're doing well for yourself besides the whole being in jail thing."

"I'll think about it. You have a good day and maybe I'll see you soon."

"I hope so."

Andre sits back as a bell rings indicating the end of visitation hours. The man gets up as the CO comes over to get Andre and escort him back to his cell. Andre salutes before being put into the handcuffs and taken back to his cell. He has a lot to think about, and a lot of time to do so. The scene fades.

We flash forward to the current day where we see Andre Dixon standing in front of a mirror in his XWF locker room. He's ready to make his PPV debut at March Madness. And while he might not have been in the tournament to need a second chance, the second chance for Andre IS the XWF. Will he be able to live up to the legacy that was left behind by his great uncle? Will he be able to put it all together and win the Royale that would instantly send him to the Finals of the March Madness tournament? And who is it that Andre is working with? The stage is set. Will The King respond? We will find out on Sunday...



Well, here we fuckin' go boys and girls. It's getting down to crunch time and I don't think anyone is ready for what's about to happen on Sunday. I'm about to take this crown and establish my dominance in the XWF in only my second match. I'm about to do in one month what most of the roster hasn't been able to do their entire careers. I'm about to take my place as the KING of the XWF.

Let's start with the Royale, shall we? I've broken this thing down into groups. We have the Fillers, who don't stand a chance and are only in this match to make it have more people and thus be more entertaining for the amazing fans of ours. This group includes Pillmour, Ethos, Future, Ruckus, Scarlet, Bonn, Calypso, and Roberts.

Then we have the Entertainers, who also don't stand a chance but are in this match for entertainment purposes and entertainment purposes alone. These guys are entertaining, sure, but don't have enough talent to actually win the tournament or the royale. This group includes Diesel, Dean Rose, Mickey Kinkade, Terry Borden, and Champagne Sportsman.

We've got Champ who talks the talk but I highly doubt he can walk the walk. You're in this thing to entertain and that's it. How can I take you seriously when you're coming into this out of shape, and with a beer gut? How can I take you seriously when you're obviously not taking this seriously? There might be some bad wrestlers in this match but there are also a few very good ones who will wipe the floor with you even if you were at your best. You're a nice guy and all but here in the XWF...nice guys usually don't cut it. Just look at Ned Kaye. Nice guy who is pretty much mentally broken. And if you're going to come out here and just compliment everyone then quite frankly you're gonna look AND sound like a bitch. At the end of the day guys like you, Mickey, and even Dean Rose will entertain the shit out of the roster, but it won't be because of your in-ring talent or even for your mic skills. I'm the King and quite frankly you guys are just my fuckin' jesters. Tell me a joke, make me laugh, or I'll find someone else to do the job.

Champ is what we like to call a has-been who never really was. A guy who was good at sports but that shit didn't lead to anything, now did it Champ? You're coming into this thing out of shape and probably drunk. Your loss at High Stakes broke you. Let's just call a spade a spade. You're about to get beat AGAIN in a very similar match. The whole second chance thing really is coming full circle, isn't it? If you fell into such a hole the last time you lost a match like this then what's going to happen when you lose this one? We're talking about a guy who lives in the past so much that he wears his damn former jerseys to the ring. I really can't figure out who is the most pathetic wrestler in this match because a lot of people are throwing their names into that hat.

You're supposed to be a Triathlete? What are the three sports? Hot dog eating contest, pie-eating contest, and beer pong? You're going to need more than a few sports puns to make it here in the XWF. The truth is you can't hang with the big boys and everyone knows it.

Lastly, we have "The Threats", who also don't really stand a chance in this match but lets for one second just entertain the fact that they are somewhat talented and thus are the "threats" to win this thing. So let's take a look at some of the actual "threats" in this match: Demos, Ned Kaye, and myself. That's it. People seem to think it's going to come down to one of them for who wins this thing but the truth is they have no idea what's about to hit them. After this is all said and done I will be on my way to the Finals meanwhile these two will be worrying about keeping or getting belts that I could easily take from them.

You really are dumber than you look, aren't you Demos? I don't know how that's possible considering you look like you're not all there all the time. You claimed that ownership rolled out the red carpet for me for the Royale. Wait...is the great TV Champion really scared of some competition? Plus, have you seen the rejects in this match? I wasn't really a hard match to get into. The qualifications weren't through the roof. You gotta know that when you're considered a favorite in such a big match.

Thanks for clearing up what an uncle is by the way. I had no clue. Is that what passes as an insult these days? Your promo was just full of misses. You missed everyone with the entire first half when you talked about things nobody gives a damn about. Then you missed on your take on Jayzon. You claim you watched him when you were young but you don't know shit about him or the history of this company honestly. Let me school you a little bit.

The real greats in this business are great not only because of their talent in-ring but also for their knowledge. Their knowledge of the game and of this great company that has been doing this for 20+ years. For you to not even know that Jayzon is in the Hall of Legends just shows how far out of touch you really are. I'm new here and I still know way more about this companies rich history than you do and it's not hard to find either. Even if your fat ass is too lazy to get off the couch and actually go to the Hall of Legends all that shit is online. It's a simple google search away. If you did your research you would know that Jayzon isn't just in the Hall but he's arguably the most accomplished wrestler in XWF History.

So next time try a little harder there because right now all you've done is look like a complete moron. Nothing new for you though, huh? Don't worry though after I beat you I'm going to drop off a nice picture book of the Hall of Legends for you since we all know you can't read. And get the fuck out of here with that puzzle shit. Corey already said that shit you dumb pile of rocks. You are way more likely to have future lower back problems than ever be King of the XWF.

The truth is when I look at this field I see a little bit of talent. I don't see anyone with my hunger though. I'm ready to get my first XWF win. I'm hungry for that shit. And not hungry for attention like Mickey or hungry for internet fame like Dean or hungry for an all-you-can-eat buffet like Demos. I mean REAL hunger. I'm ready to eat and that's exactly what the fuck I'm going to do.

Which only leaves the Finals of this great tournament. How am I supposed to take people seriously when half of these wrestlers sound like they're on their periods and I'm not even talking about the females? I honestly can't deal with these for ass wrestlers. Between Warsteins love story, Demos' self-righteousness, and Ned's fucking breakdown I can't deal with all this bullshit. How the fuck are you guys making Doc look like the normal one?

You're a freak too Doc. There's no doubting that. I heard you even bit a guys nose or ear or some shit off? That's some fucked up shit my guy. But at the end of the day at least you're not as big of a loser as Shawn Warstein who literally made a holographic version of himself because he has no friends. Can you imagine being that lonely that you have to create a hologram to talk to? He probably tries to bang that thing too...doesn't he?

And lastly, we have Shawn Warstein. Fuzz wants to come out and mention Jayzon and how much he did for him and then shit on him right after saying that he, Shawn Warstein, has surpassed Jayzon. In what way there buddy? Last time I checked Jayzon is one of the best Universal Champions of all time. How many years did it take for you to finally win the belt? 20? And how did you do it? Via cashing in a briefcase. And then you had a very short and lackluster title reign. Much like your "legendary" career. Hell, Jayzon came back after almost 10 years off and accomplished more in his last 6-month run than you have your whole Hall of Fame career. Fuck out of here with that I'm better than him bullshit when you never and never will be better than him. And I didn't want to do this but you people just keep bringing him up and I'll be damned if I'm not going to correct just how fuckin' wrong you are.

I'm supposed to be worried about this group? The Royale is going to be a cakewalk. The Finals might be tough but it's most definitely winnable. The Elite 8 had more time to get their point across but from what I've seen you guys haven't really said shit. Shawn is dealing with his love story that nobody cares about, not even his own girl. Ned is dealing with his mid-life crisis. Betsy has so much going on that there's no way she will be at her best come the Finals. Charlie is still trying to convince everyone he's serious but we all just see an off-brand Alias. And Doc is just as crazy as ever and most of the roster fears him because quite honestly he could be a serial killer.

Enough with the talk though. Time to crown a new King, and his name is ANDRE...]]>
The scene opens up to Georgia State Prison located in Reidsville, Georgia approximately a year ago. Andre Dixon is currently locked up on an aggravated assault charge and is expected to be released in the next few months. We pan to the visitation area of the prison where we see a room with tables spread out far from each other. At the tables we can see different prisoners speaking with someone and a few visitors just sitting alone waiting. We see a Correctional Officer walking with Andre towards a table where we see someone waiting. He is wearing a black and blue XWF hoodie with the hood up and has an N95 mask. Not everyone is wearing a mask, including Andre. The CO uncuffs Andre and walks away as Andre sits down, looks around, and then looks at the man sitting in front of him.

"The fuck you want old man?"

"That how you talk to an old friend who came all the way out here? During COVID too? I'm surprised they even let me come visit you considering Covid is out of control. You guys aren't even wearing masks?"

"Yeah, apparently they say research shows that these visits make it less likely for us to go ape shit on each other in here. Plus our Governor is an idiot bro." He says shaking his head. "They got your ass wearing that shit though. Like I said though. The fuck you want?"

The man looks around."Look around man, looks like you could use some help right now."

"You think I need YOU to help ME?"

"I think we could help each other."

"I'll be out in a few months. I'll be aight." Andre says as he leans back in his chair and looks around again before looking back at the man.

"What's even waiting for you out there? Some more of what got you in here in the first place?"

"I got my n****z holdin' shit down for me till I get out. You wouldn't understand this life."

"I never said I did, but your uncle, he does."

"I don't give a fuck about him. What he actually cares now?"

"He always has you're just hard-headed. Plus do you actually think those guys give a damn about you or what happens to you? They don't give a fuck what happens to you."

"And you do?"

"Yeah believe it or not I do. I've seen what you can do. I need you next to me in a few months when shit hits the fan, and shit is going to hit the fan."

"You need me next to you, huh?"

"No, I want you next to me. I'm trying to help you out here and I do need people I can trust watching my back because like you I'm gonna be a wanted man real soon."

"I still don't see what me being your bodyguard is going to do for ME?"

"You wanna spend the rest of your life here? Then be my guest."

"I'll be out in a couple of months..."

"This time. But what happens the next time? This isn't your first time here."

"Yeah, and it probably won't be my last. What's the point? The way I see it is you need help. You said it yourself."

"I do. But in this scenario, we help each other out. Haven't you ever wanted to know what you can really do in the ring? You've got so much damn potential and instead of realizing that potential you're running the streets and worse you're locked up half the time."

"So you want me to come to the big, bad XWF?"

"We are talking about a takeover."

"I dunno man, I just don't know if that wrestling shit is for me anymore."

"Your uncle is an XWF legend. The XWF is in your blood whether you like it or not. You've got a few months left in here. Think about the offer. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be a part of something special. Something way bigger than me and you. We can change the XWF for a long time."

"I appreciate the offer but I don't think it's for me. I'm doing just fine on my own."

The man looks around.

"Sure does look like it..."

"It's easy for you to sit there and judge but you have no idea what I've been through."Andre knew he was right though. Things had to change and soon.

"You're right...I don't. But I'm willing to find out and I'm willing to help you. And that should count for something."

All of a sudden we hear the loudspeaker.

CO: 5 MINUTES REMAINING

"The way I see it we would be helping each other. You've got a few months left here so when you get out you can decide then. If you're interested then call your uncle or go see him and he will get things rolling."

"Why him and not you?" Andre asks knowing that things are currently very shaky with his uncle who didn't agree with his current style of life even though it was the same style of life Jayzon was about for a large portion of his life.

"Honestly, I don't want anything to know you're working with me until the time is right. We are gonna change the XWF and turn that shit upside down. I promise you that."

Andre sighs and sits back in his chair for a moment and looks around the room. He thinks for a moment before leaning back up.

"You gonna at least tell me about this thing? What my role will be and all that?"

"Not yet. It's all still in the works. A lot of different pieces and I mean a lot. In fact, you wouldn't even fit into the picture until this time next year."

"You're thinking a year ahead?" Andre asks in disbelief. Who knew where Andre would be a year from now, Andre definitely didn't.

"Damn right. I'm going to pull some shit that's going to change everything and I want you there with me. You're wasting your life and you're wasting your career right now. I know you just need someone to believe in you and I'm that guy. I can get you right back where you need to be."

Andre thinks for a moment but doesn't respond yet.

"Either way it was great to see you for the first time in nearly a decade. Looks like you're doing well for yourself besides the whole being in jail thing."

"I'll think about it. You have a good day and maybe I'll see you soon."

"I hope so."

Andre sits back as a bell rings indicating the end of visitation hours. The man gets up as the CO comes over to get Andre and escort him back to his cell. Andre salutes before being put into the handcuffs and taken back to his cell. He has a lot to think about, and a lot of time to do so. The scene fades.

We flash forward to the current day where we see Andre Dixon standing in front of a mirror in his XWF locker room. He's ready to make his PPV debut at March Madness. And while he might not have been in the tournament to need a second chance, the second chance for Andre IS the XWF. Will he be able to live up to the legacy that was left behind by his great uncle? Will he be able to put it all together and win the Royale that would instantly send him to the Finals of the March Madness tournament? And who is it that Andre is working with? The stage is set. Will The King respond? We will find out on Sunday...



Well, here we fuckin' go boys and girls. It's getting down to crunch time and I don't think anyone is ready for what's about to happen on Sunday. I'm about to take this crown and establish my dominance in the XWF in only my second match. I'm about to do in one month what most of the roster hasn't been able to do their entire careers. I'm about to take my place as the KING of the XWF.

Let's start with the Royale, shall we? I've broken this thing down into groups. We have the Fillers, who don't stand a chance and are only in this match to make it have more people and thus be more entertaining for the amazing fans of ours. This group includes Pillmour, Ethos, Future, Ruckus, Scarlet, Bonn, Calypso, and Roberts.

Then we have the Entertainers, who also don't stand a chance but are in this match for entertainment purposes and entertainment purposes alone. These guys are entertaining, sure, but don't have enough talent to actually win the tournament or the royale. This group includes Diesel, Dean Rose, Mickey Kinkade, Terry Borden, and Champagne Sportsman.

We've got Champ who talks the talk but I highly doubt he can walk the walk. You're in this thing to entertain and that's it. How can I take you seriously when you're coming into this out of shape, and with a beer gut? How can I take you seriously when you're obviously not taking this seriously? There might be some bad wrestlers in this match but there are also a few very good ones who will wipe the floor with you even if you were at your best. You're a nice guy and all but here in the XWF...nice guys usually don't cut it. Just look at Ned Kaye. Nice guy who is pretty much mentally broken. And if you're going to come out here and just compliment everyone then quite frankly you're gonna look AND sound like a bitch. At the end of the day guys like you, Mickey, and even Dean Rose will entertain the shit out of the roster, but it won't be because of your in-ring talent or even for your mic skills. I'm the King and quite frankly you guys are just my fuckin' jesters. Tell me a joke, make me laugh, or I'll find someone else to do the job.

Champ is what we like to call a has-been who never really was. A guy who was good at sports but that shit didn't lead to anything, now did it Champ? You're coming into this thing out of shape and probably drunk. Your loss at High Stakes broke you. Let's just call a spade a spade. You're about to get beat AGAIN in a very similar match. The whole second chance thing really is coming full circle, isn't it? If you fell into such a hole the last time you lost a match like this then what's going to happen when you lose this one? We're talking about a guy who lives in the past so much that he wears his damn former jerseys to the ring. I really can't figure out who is the most pathetic wrestler in this match because a lot of people are throwing their names into that hat.

You're supposed to be a Triathlete? What are the three sports? Hot dog eating contest, pie-eating contest, and beer pong? You're going to need more than a few sports puns to make it here in the XWF. The truth is you can't hang with the big boys and everyone knows it.

Lastly, we have "The Threats", who also don't really stand a chance in this match but lets for one second just entertain the fact that they are somewhat talented and thus are the "threats" to win this thing. So let's take a look at some of the actual "threats" in this match: Demos, Ned Kaye, and myself. That's it. People seem to think it's going to come down to one of them for who wins this thing but the truth is they have no idea what's about to hit them. After this is all said and done I will be on my way to the Finals meanwhile these two will be worrying about keeping or getting belts that I could easily take from them.

You really are dumber than you look, aren't you Demos? I don't know how that's possible considering you look like you're not all there all the time. You claimed that ownership rolled out the red carpet for me for the Royale. Wait...is the great TV Champion really scared of some competition? Plus, have you seen the rejects in this match? I wasn't really a hard match to get into. The qualifications weren't through the roof. You gotta know that when you're considered a favorite in such a big match.

Thanks for clearing up what an uncle is by the way. I had no clue. Is that what passes as an insult these days? Your promo was just full of misses. You missed everyone with the entire first half when you talked about things nobody gives a damn about. Then you missed on your take on Jayzon. You claim you watched him when you were young but you don't know shit about him or the history of this company honestly. Let me school you a little bit.

The real greats in this business are great not only because of their talent in-ring but also for their knowledge. Their knowledge of the game and of this great company that has been doing this for 20+ years. For you to not even know that Jayzon is in the Hall of Legends just shows how far out of touch you really are. I'm new here and I still know way more about this companies rich history than you do and it's not hard to find either. Even if your fat ass is too lazy to get off the couch and actually go to the Hall of Legends all that shit is online. It's a simple google search away. If you did your research you would know that Jayzon isn't just in the Hall but he's arguably the most accomplished wrestler in XWF History.

So next time try a little harder there because right now all you've done is look like a complete moron. Nothing new for you though, huh? Don't worry though after I beat you I'm going to drop off a nice picture book of the Hall of Legends for you since we all know you can't read. And get the fuck out of here with that puzzle shit. Corey already said that shit you dumb pile of rocks. You are way more likely to have future lower back problems than ever be King of the XWF.

The truth is when I look at this field I see a little bit of talent. I don't see anyone with my hunger though. I'm ready to get my first XWF win. I'm hungry for that shit. And not hungry for attention like Mickey or hungry for internet fame like Dean or hungry for an all-you-can-eat buffet like Demos. I mean REAL hunger. I'm ready to eat and that's exactly what the fuck I'm going to do.

Which only leaves the Finals of this great tournament. How am I supposed to take people seriously when half of these wrestlers sound like they're on their periods and I'm not even talking about the females? I honestly can't deal with these for ass wrestlers. Between Warsteins love story, Demos' self-righteousness, and Ned's fucking breakdown I can't deal with all this bullshit. How the fuck are you guys making Doc look like the normal one?

You're a freak too Doc. There's no doubting that. I heard you even bit a guys nose or ear or some shit off? That's some fucked up shit my guy. But at the end of the day at least you're not as big of a loser as Shawn Warstein who literally made a holographic version of himself because he has no friends. Can you imagine being that lonely that you have to create a hologram to talk to? He probably tries to bang that thing too...doesn't he?

And lastly, we have Shawn Warstein. Fuzz wants to come out and mention Jayzon and how much he did for him and then shit on him right after saying that he, Shawn Warstein, has surpassed Jayzon. In what way there buddy? Last time I checked Jayzon is one of the best Universal Champions of all time. How many years did it take for you to finally win the belt? 20? And how did you do it? Via cashing in a briefcase. And then you had a very short and lackluster title reign. Much like your "legendary" career. Hell, Jayzon came back after almost 10 years off and accomplished more in his last 6-month run than you have your whole Hall of Fame career. Fuck out of here with that I'm better than him bullshit when you never and never will be better than him. And I didn't want to do this but you people just keep bringing him up and I'll be damned if I'm not going to correct just how fuckin' wrong you are.

I'm supposed to be worried about this group? The Royale is going to be a cakewalk. The Finals might be tough but it's most definitely winnable. The Elite 8 had more time to get their point across but from what I've seen you guys haven't really said shit. Shawn is dealing with his love story that nobody cares about, not even his own girl. Ned is dealing with his mid-life crisis. Betsy has so much going on that there's no way she will be at her best come the Finals. Charlie is still trying to convince everyone he's serious but we all just see an off-brand Alias. And Doc is just as crazy as ever and most of the roster fears him because quite honestly he could be a serial killer.

Enough with the talk though. Time to crown a new King, and his name is ANDRE...]]> <![CDATA[The Conclusion]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40236 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:25:52 -0700 Prof. Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40236

At long last, we finally see the climax of the dramatic story that happens in the lives of people.

Only on BOBTube.

THE CONCLUSION

Graveyards. More common in the XWF, and wrestling in general, than alternate personas. It's a calm, pleasant day, weatherwise, but we see a funeral underway for the good clone of Hoggart. Big P, Tadd, and Leena are seen at the burial site, dressed in black, as Detective Hatepants presides over the happening, also looking to be a minister in a plain black jacket, black shirt, black boxer briefs, and black shoes.

We are here today to mourn the loss of the good clone of Hoggart, Big P's long-lost evil brother. The good clone of Hoggart was a swell guy, and we all miss him.

Big P has a tear run down from his right eye as Tadd puts a hand on his shoulder. Leena, turned on by this, puts her arm around Tadd's waist. As she does, a bevy of cyborg ninjas drop from a tree! They subdue Tadd, Big P, and Leena with hankies, no doubt doused in chloroform! Everything goes dark!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We see a woman draped in a sarong and clad in a bikini beneath traipsing down a beach.

Need to feel fresh?

We see a host of seagulls following the woman intently. She looks off into the distance, off the shore, the horizon rippling, foamy, and blue.

Suffering from a case of from-under, as in there's an odor coming from under your skirt?

A man jogging on the beach stops and briefly waves politely towards the woman. As soon as he passes, he drops to the ground, unconscious, from some terrible and unholy miasma coming from the woman.

You don't have to be self-conscious.

The woman continues her walk. A skunk approaches her, on the beach, then immediately scampers off, the stench too strong. As it does, a man in a black suit, white shirt, black tie, black and white spats, and a spiffy pork pie hat with a black and white checkerboard patterned ribbon adorning its rim, rushes up. He holds his nose and hands the woman a box. The camera zooms in.

Try Ska-Douche.

Peppy ska music plays as the woman, who looked forlorn until now, grins. There's a star-wipe, and the seagulls all fly away. The downed jogger revives. The ska guy who gave her the Ska-Douche is playing trumpet now as the rest of his band is on the beach, rocking two-tone and playing the shit out of some ska.

Ska-Douche. Give yourself peace of mind and cleanliness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We return to the program where we see Big P, Tadd, and Leena all recovering from the side of the clone of Hoggart's grave. Beside them is a tablet.

What happened?

Where's Detective Hatepants?

Almost on cue, the tablet begins to buzz. Big P picks it up and answers whatever call is coming over it. We see video footage of Detective Hatepants tied up in a chair.

Hatepants!

Big P! Please, Hoggart and the quilt wizard cabal have captured me! Please, carry on with the clone of Hoggart's funeral without me!

No fuckin' way!

Hello boys!

We see Hoggart, not the clone but the evil long-lost brother, on the screen. He is sneering, and Charles Store Jr. and Bisabuela Martina stand behind him, each holding yellow squeeze bottles.

Hahaha, my plan has finally come to fruition! Not only do I know all of Leena's werewolf secrets, but I have captured your detective, Big P, and now you'll have to all bankroll our quilting club AND the entire corn cartel in town!

You prick!

Prick? PRICK! You WILL give us the money! Charles, Martina, give ole' Hatepants the mustard!

Charles and Martina laugh like henchmen as they turn the squeeze bottles over Hatepants's head. They begin to douse him in yellow mustard.

NO! STOP! I'LL TALK!

Cracking immediately under the pressure of being covered in mustard, Detective Hatepants starts singing like a stool pigeon.

I DON'T WEAR PANTS BECAUSE MY KNEES ARE SEXY! BIG P HIDES HIS CHRISTMAS PRESENTS IN THE TRUNK OF HIS CAR! TADD HAD AN ABSENCE LAST YEAR!

The villains continue to hose down Detective Hatepants with mustard. Tadd grabs the tablet.

Wait, I recognize where they are!

Tad points out the booths, the telltale table cloth, the pizza on the table, the waitress walking by and asking if they could refresh their pitcher of root beer.

They're at Pizza Hut!

Stop, enough with the mustard! Who does this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We see the offices of BOBTube. Bobby Bourbon is seated in the conference room across from Vinnie Lane.

So, dude, I'll totally be in the show, I know you've been working on this for months, but I don't want you to use it as an excuse to do something stupid.

What do you mean?

Vinnie takes a deep breath and glances down and away from Bobby. Bobby's inquisitive look bores into Vinnie.

I dunno. I mean, sure, it'll be fun and all, but nothing too crazy.

What's too crazy?

Bobby, you come up with some wacky ideas sometimes. I don't want to, I dunno, be the butt of some joke, like you cover me with mustard or something.

Bobby's eyes go wide. He starts to scribble into a notepad.

What are you writing?

Nothing...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Big P, Tadd, and Leena, armed with the knowledge that the terrible triad of evil brother, corn magnate, and pepper peddler all together for quilting are at their hideout, a local Pizza Hut. They all get on longboards and begin to cruise their way to Pizza Hut, the corpse of the good clone of Hoggart just sitting in a hole in a box unattended.

We should be careful! We're not wearing pads or helmets!

No time, Tadd.

I know, but I have my awesome custom helmet and pads!

Oh my dear, but this is life and death! Detective Hatepants can't stand that much more mustarding!

The trio arrives at Pizza Hut, which is actually pretty close to the graveyard. They rush inside, and are immediately greeted by cyborg ninjas! Behind the ninjas, Hoggart, Charles Store Jr., and Bisabuela Martina stand. Detective Hatepants, tied to his chair in Pizza Hut, covered in mustard, looks miserable. Their server comes to their table and takes away some empty plates and brings a box for their pie.

Save yourselves! It's too late for me!

Bisabuela Martina pours more mustard on Detective Hatepants, who writhes in agony.

Face it, Big P, you're outnumbered!

No we aren't!

With that, the glass of a window shatters, and the rest of the diners look annoyed that this is all happening while they went out to lunch. Though the glass dives the clone of the good clone of Hoggart! He has a silenced Walther PPK! He shoots Charles Store Jr. in the head, dropping him! He blasts Bisabuela Martina! With the succinct sound of a silenced pistol shot, the evil long-lost brother Hoggart is dropped! As soon as they go down, all the cyborg ninjas shut down!

Clone of the good clone of Hoggart! Right in the nick of time!

That's right! Now the bad guys are all dead, and your money is safe!

Phew!

Leena, turned on by this, puts her arm around Tadd's waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU EDITED ALL OUT?

TK looks more than annoyed.

Look, bro, we needed to cut some stuff for time, and all those scenes were kinda changing the whole vibe of what we were doing.

Those scenes set the tone and were highly dramatic!

Bobby shrugs.

I know! You're preaching to the choir, but all the hardcore sex scenes between you and Leena had to be cut. Our sponsors didn't want to be associated with that kind of stuff, and besides, you can always sell the scenes on your Onlyfans.

TK nods, looking as though acceptance has crossed his mind.

Fair enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We see Detective Hatepants, still yellowed and pretty pissed looking that he got covered in mustard, putting Hoggart, Charles Store Jr., and Bisabuela Martina's corpses in handcuffs.

We'll take these guys downtown. Thanks for the rescue, clone of the good clone of Hoggart!

My pleasure.

Our pleasure.

Big P and the clone of the good clone of Hoggart give each other a high five.

Well, I guess we should celebrate! We cured cancer, stopped a quilting club's nefarious scheme to blackmail me over my woman...

Tadd turns to Leena.

Oh, by the way, we're breaking up now. Sorry, stepmom.

It's okay, stepson. I've enjoyed boinking you thoroughly, and your father is still supporting our half-werewolf son, so I'll just fade away.

Cool.

Big P and Tadd stand next to each other, smiling.

Well, Big P, what should we do now?

Big P looks at Tadd.

Please...




























































































call me Porky.

The screen goes dim as we hear a voiceover.

Thank you for watching the BOBTube presentation of Porky's 2. Coming up next, Miss Fury's Nanny Nightmares!












Credits









Big P / Porky .............................................................................................................................................................................................. Bobby Bourbon









Tadd ....................................................................................................................................................................................................... Thunder Knuckles










Leena .................................................................................................................................................................................................................. Blue Astrid









Walter / Tadd's father ..................................................................................................................................................................................... Ron Jermey









Hoggart's clone ...................................................................................................................................................................................... Edge (short hair)









Hoggart's clone's clone ........................................................................................................................................................................ Edge (short hair)









Hoggart .................................................................................................................................................................................................... Edge (long hair)









Bisabuela Martina .......................................................................................................................................................................................... Vodka Marie









Detective Hatepates ................................................................................................................................................................... "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane









Charles Store Jr. ............................................................................................................................................................................................. Steve Carell








{FIN}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the wrap party for Porky's 2, we catch up with Bobby and TK. Bobby looks at the camera.

Well, hello!

Let me tell y'all a little story.

See, we know we're fucking ready for March Madness. We've been preparing for our match with these guys since the last time we faced Continuum. We know it's not going to be easy, unless I handcuff one of you lil' scumbags to me, in which case you'll just be slung around like the bag of Doc's laundry you have to do to keep him in Continuum and from making fun of how dramatic you lil' scumbags are.

I mean, if we wanted to be honest, we would point out how you completely stepped away from doing anything dramatic, shooting for jokes from South Park from over a decade ago to compete with us. Sweet choice of vocabulary, by the way, nice to see that one hundred and sixty pounds of body frame was able to lift a heavy book like a thesaurus but couldn't decide whether to call me Bobby or Robbie.

As opposed to yourself, Charlie Nickles, Robert Main, or even ole' Chris Page, I don't have multiple personas, but keep it up, I suppose. Hook that Dragonball fanbase, make 'em think I'll power up to a new form to get the win, instead of just showing up with my partner with all the momentum of the universe to get the win.

Where's the footage of you guys hugging it out with Doc, by the way?

Bobby grins and rolls his eyes.

THAT I would love to see. Also, that would've been comedic gold.

Anyhow, it's storytime.

See, there once were these two brothers, the older brother was named Gary, and the younger was named Gray, I guess because their parents really liked the name Gary and just rolled with it and rearranged some letters to keep it similar. Gary and Gray were thick as thieves, closer to each other than Siamese twins, and their parents always told them how special they were.

Gary was a bright and shining star, and Gray glowed like the moon, both illuminating the skies for their mommy and daddy.

Now, Gary and Gray did accomplish some wonderful shit together. Their mommy and daddy proudly displayed all their trophies, marked all their accomplishments, and constantly told them how special they were for all the great things they did. Every victory was celebrated, and anything that wasn't, well, they just kind of ignored it and swept it under the rug.

Gary and Gray wound up getting all the confidence in the world. They felt fit, emboldened, empowered, et cetera. In their home, there wasn't a feat they couldn't accomplish, all the while patting each other on the back and reassuring one another that they were amazing.

Acting like they shat baby powder and roses, their shit not stinking whatsoever.

And then, bam, one day a pair of gorillas clubbed them over the heads and took all their accolades.

Suddenly, without any warning, the two boys who had the whole world and all the talents were just left to be ordinary and wanting.

See, Thad, Corey, you guys are talented. I'm not going to say you aren't. The Tag Team Championships aren't being served up on a platter for us by any means whatsoever. You've beaten your fair share of talent, which makes you pretty great. Cataclysm? Very talented, though I'm not sure if you think so. You keep slamming Chris Page, saying he's a champ who can't hold water or draw flies, but neither of you seem to be stepping up to take his Universal Championship. Was beating him and Main a thing or no?

D.D.S.? Charlie Nickles has been on fire and his stock is constantly rising in this company. Marf and Lycana? They show promise. Hell, you even harped about beating us, so I guess that makes us pretty important. Can you do it twice? Nah, not without a patsy to take the fall for us.

However, and here's the thing, talent is great. Is it greatness?

Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles are coming to claim greatness, not talent.

We know we're talented. We know your talents. I don't think you understand how to avoid what makes us talented, what defines us as great, and won't stop us from becoming the very pinnacle of tag team wrestling. You know why?

We ARE the pinnacle of tag team wrestling.

Flaunt the fact you've gone 3-0. That's a solid hot streak. Is it a vaunted, insurmountable thing? No, not really. Even schlubs like Peter Gilmour were capable of stringing together three wins over four months. I guess you guys are so great you don't have to compete and the bed of laurels is cozy enough to rest on for long enough stretches of time.

Mark my words, we're defending the Tag Team Titles at Warfare on the 21st of April.

If you want a rematch then, by all means, but I see you boys sure as shit didn't sign up to even compete as a team, let alone defend. Is it because you know you won't be holding the straps by then?

I mean, you're hyping a ton of wonderful matches you COULD have had by now, but just haven't. You can still have them, after all!

They just won't be involving the Tag Team Championships.

By all means, Continuum versus Betsy and Atara sounds like a wonderful main event match. Continuum versus teams from yesteryear? Sure, sign me up, sell me a ticket, let me grab my popcorn. Continuum versus teams of the future? Sounds incredible, we all look forward to seeing it.

You don't have to even be tag team champions to have any of those matches!

Bobby shakes his head 'no'.

We get it. Those belts define you as a team.

We define ourselves as a team, and we'll define the Tag Team Championships as something. Not the other way 'round.

TK, we got these fools in body bags, you wanna fire up the hearse?


Thunder Knuckles rubs his hands together ready to get to the task at hand.


Sure fucking thing, Bobby. Now that we ran through an entire year's worth of Continuum storyline for one show. No need for them to be hanging out in the tag division anymore. By the way, did you enjoy Porky's 2?


Thunder Knuckles says with a crooked smile.


Answer one question though. Why do they keep talking about Chris Page, Bobby?


Bobby Bourbon looks bewildered.


I honestly don't know.

Do they think Chris Page is in BOB? Is that supposed to make us fucking angry or something? They certainly talk a lot about researching with montages, or what-the-fuck-ever, but if they did they'd know BOB kicked Page's ass then Ol' Thunder Knuckles got a Page plant on Warfare all before the Pay-Per-View. Hell, you could make a whole fucking radio show about that shit! Who'd a thought?


Thunder Knuckles looks off to a side camera.


March Madness! which you can order tomorrow and watch Them No Good Bastards beat the overconfident Cuntiuum team in a tornado tag match.



The shot switches back to the hard camera. Bobby Bourbon smiles at Thunder Knuckles, knowing exactly what Knuckles is about to say.


Make no mistake about it, those two fucking idiots, don't pay attention at all. They keep saying just showing up doesn't make us relevant.

Not a fucking word about Page actually when it mattered. Has Duke affected the way Corey works now? I mean, Duke's second Recorded Promo was certainly affected by Corey. Is this how they work as a team? You know, taking all the worst qualities of themselves and meshing it together? Boys, you're fucking up. Just look around March Madness, Corey. Even Cuntiuum needs Them No Good Bastards. Don't just take my word for it. Check out Dawk's Recorded Promos. He needed far more than just you two little bitches. That's the easiest FOURTY THOUSAND XBUX I've ever made. Well, next to anytime people that Corey knows got to paid Ol' Thunder Knuckles to win that is. Todd place the transaction on the screen!


[Image: awrFk4Y.png]



That's not clout, fuck-wits. That's payment.


Thunder Knuckles says with a devious smile.


Don't just stop with Dawk's fucking work. Nooooo, far more of the goddamn roster sees Them No Good Bastards star power. We've been in more Promotional work than any team in recent history! Something Cuntinuum hasn't ever fucking done. Sure they'll call us whores. Hell, they ready have.


Thunder Knuckles gives a stale jerking-off hand gesture.


But we all know it's better to be a whore than a slut, like your tag team partner for this match, Thaddeus Duke. Speaking of fucking which, Duke said something about the bottom goddamn dollar before. Todd hit the mother fucker with the bottom dollar again.


[Image: awrFk4Y.png]



The bottom-dollar is Ol' Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon sells fucking tickets, T-shirts, Hell, throw us a fucking baby leopard we'll sell that shit too! That's something that Corey can't do and hasn't done. Corey is as good at selling as he is taking on upper-tier guys these days. Anyone catch him defending his challengers lately? Boasted up the fact Dixion isn't a rookie because he's been in other places competing... Hey, Bobby!


Thunder Knuckles looks over at Bobby Bourbon.


What is it called when you're new and never rassled in a company?

Rookie.

That's what I fucking thought.


Thunder Knuckles looks down at the ground.


But he's right...


Thunder Knuckles pauses to let that sink in for XWF fans around the world.


Corey is right... That body did beat Robbie Bourbon.


Thunder Knuckles pulls his head back up to show a shit-eating grin.


But that wasn't fucking you was it, Corey? That was a goddamn virus. Not Pretty Corey Smith at all. That brings me to something fucking else entirely. While the Virus took control of you. Where in the actual fuck was your best friend Duke? Why wasn't he there to fucking help you? You like to call bullshit. Well, the only bullshit Ol' Thunder Knuckles sees is running down your fucking leg and it stinks to high fucking Hell. That's why you're whole fucking-


Thunder Knuckles give a more over-exaggerated jerking-off hand gesture this time, with a release to simulate the jizz following out.


-unbeaten six months shit comes to a fucking end at March Madness. At the hands of Them No Good Bastards and, man, is it going to piss you off! Taking an "L" to Ol' Thunder Knuckles I wonder how long it's going to take for you to try and get that one back?

Probably not long.

Well, it would have to be in a tag team competition because Them No Good Bastards don't compete unless it's together. Can you believe those fucking idiots still have signed up for the Tag Team Turmoil tournament?

Really? After Duke got scared and switched his game plan?

Five xbux says he goes back to it so he can say it was the plan all along.

Bet. Not even he's that stupid.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs exactly .01 seconds too long. In order not to be sued by L.I.E., Then Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon shake on the bet.


Still, it's pretty fucking crazy they wouldn't put out an insurance policy on their chance at redemption, right? Anyway, I'm so glad you finally waited to open your mouth at the very end. Another thing Corey likes to do. Fluffy you with some bullshit going on in Corey's life and BANG hit you with his "good stuff". Them No Good Bastards hit you with the good stuff from first to last because we know we're the best and not need to bullshit on the way there. You should really wipe that up, dog. It's gross. plus I really don't want to fucking grab your ankle with shit running down it. Show some fucking class for a change.


Thunder Knuckles beaming with confidence continues.


Hey, Bobby?


Bobby smiles because he knows Thunder Knuckles is about to be a giant cock bag.


Did we lose at fucking Snow Job?

Nope.


Them No Good Bastards both look into the camera and give the middle finger to Corey. Just to let him know he can die on that hill, alone.


Looking past us to a future matchup against Atty and Betsy or possibly a team from the past, isn't very smart, fuckers. You're in a fucking war you should have seen coming. After all, Corey is a mind reader.

If he was. He wouldn't have been such an eager beaver for this fight. He said it himself he was looking forward to this.

Until he's in the fucking thick of it. Now he's surrounded and crawling in the mud like a real soldier.


Thunder Knuckles jumps to attention and puts his right hand up to his head to salute.


Too fucking bad he's going to be Killed In Action, just like Duke's little war story.


Thunder Knuckles finishes the salute but with his middle finger.


Now, watch out, Bobby! They're going to use all their feelings I know because Corey warned us.


Thunder Knuckles said overdramatically.


Check it out boys I picked up a new skill! But seriously, They're going to use all their fucking emotions on us! Just like the goddamn Care Bears. Fucking shooting mother fucking emotion beams out their bellies and shit. So you HAVE to watch out for focus-fired emotion belly lasers. I guess, they're real.


Thunder Knuckles knows it's about time to wrap this the fuck up and a serious demeanor comes over his face.


I am a little upset that Thad thinks that Ol' Thunder Knuckles thinks he's boring. That's not the case at all. Drama isn't boring! We proved it with Porky's 2! I'd keep talking about Thad, but honestly, he's already said everything he was going to say. Now he's just going to fucking repeat himself. Now if you fucking excuse use. We're going to climb into my new fucking trans am and get the fuck to Vegas. The tag champs have a Rainbow Laser Death Sequence to eat.


Them No Good Bastards start to leave the after party for Porky's 2. Bobby, TK, accompanied by Big Money Oswald, depart for whatever awaits them on the passage we just call life. The familial bonds that go unspoken, that don't need to be thrust into scope and to prop up any form of vindication, that form some kind of connection intended to resonate with the consumer of such media. The crux of the kinship that runs so deep that any manner of homogenization of it results in something that parodies itself, something that even Disney or Hallmark would find too simplistic for it's viewership and is best left for Canadian cable access television.

Perfect.]]>

At long last, we finally see the climax of the dramatic story that happens in the lives of people.

Only on BOBTube.

THE CONCLUSION

Graveyards. More common in the XWF, and wrestling in general, than alternate personas. It's a calm, pleasant day, weatherwise, but we see a funeral underway for the good clone of Hoggart. Big P, Tadd, and Leena are seen at the burial site, dressed in black, as Detective Hatepants presides over the happening, also looking to be a minister in a plain black jacket, black shirt, black boxer briefs, and black shoes.

We are here today to mourn the loss of the good clone of Hoggart, Big P's long-lost evil brother. The good clone of Hoggart was a swell guy, and we all miss him.

Big P has a tear run down from his right eye as Tadd puts a hand on his shoulder. Leena, turned on by this, puts her arm around Tadd's waist. As she does, a bevy of cyborg ninjas drop from a tree! They subdue Tadd, Big P, and Leena with hankies, no doubt doused in chloroform! Everything goes dark!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We see a woman draped in a sarong and clad in a bikini beneath traipsing down a beach.

Need to feel fresh?

We see a host of seagulls following the woman intently. She looks off into the distance, off the shore, the horizon rippling, foamy, and blue.

Suffering from a case of from-under, as in there's an odor coming from under your skirt?

A man jogging on the beach stops and briefly waves politely towards the woman. As soon as he passes, he drops to the ground, unconscious, from some terrible and unholy miasma coming from the woman.

You don't have to be self-conscious.

The woman continues her walk. A skunk approaches her, on the beach, then immediately scampers off, the stench too strong. As it does, a man in a black suit, white shirt, black tie, black and white spats, and a spiffy pork pie hat with a black and white checkerboard patterned ribbon adorning its rim, rushes up. He holds his nose and hands the woman a box. The camera zooms in.

Try Ska-Douche.

Peppy ska music plays as the woman, who looked forlorn until now, grins. There's a star-wipe, and the seagulls all fly away. The downed jogger revives. The ska guy who gave her the Ska-Douche is playing trumpet now as the rest of his band is on the beach, rocking two-tone and playing the shit out of some ska.

Ska-Douche. Give yourself peace of mind and cleanliness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We return to the program where we see Big P, Tadd, and Leena all recovering from the side of the clone of Hoggart's grave. Beside them is a tablet.

What happened?

Where's Detective Hatepants?

Almost on cue, the tablet begins to buzz. Big P picks it up and answers whatever call is coming over it. We see video footage of Detective Hatepants tied up in a chair.

Hatepants!

Big P! Please, Hoggart and the quilt wizard cabal have captured me! Please, carry on with the clone of Hoggart's funeral without me!

No fuckin' way!

Hello boys!

We see Hoggart, not the clone but the evil long-lost brother, on the screen. He is sneering, and Charles Store Jr. and Bisabuela Martina stand behind him, each holding yellow squeeze bottles.

Hahaha, my plan has finally come to fruition! Not only do I know all of Leena's werewolf secrets, but I have captured your detective, Big P, and now you'll have to all bankroll our quilting club AND the entire corn cartel in town!

You prick!

Prick? PRICK! You WILL give us the money! Charles, Martina, give ole' Hatepants the mustard!

Charles and Martina laugh like henchmen as they turn the squeeze bottles over Hatepants's head. They begin to douse him in yellow mustard.

NO! STOP! I'LL TALK!

Cracking immediately under the pressure of being covered in mustard, Detective Hatepants starts singing like a stool pigeon.

I DON'T WEAR PANTS BECAUSE MY KNEES ARE SEXY! BIG P HIDES HIS CHRISTMAS PRESENTS IN THE TRUNK OF HIS CAR! TADD HAD AN ABSENCE LAST YEAR!

The villains continue to hose down Detective Hatepants with mustard. Tadd grabs the tablet.

Wait, I recognize where they are!

Tad points out the booths, the telltale table cloth, the pizza on the table, the waitress walking by and asking if they could refresh their pitcher of root beer.

They're at Pizza Hut!

Stop, enough with the mustard! Who does this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We see the offices of BOBTube. Bobby Bourbon is seated in the conference room across from Vinnie Lane.

So, dude, I'll totally be in the show, I know you've been working on this for months, but I don't want you to use it as an excuse to do something stupid.

What do you mean?

Vinnie takes a deep breath and glances down and away from Bobby. Bobby's inquisitive look bores into Vinnie.

I dunno. I mean, sure, it'll be fun and all, but nothing too crazy.

What's too crazy?

Bobby, you come up with some wacky ideas sometimes. I don't want to, I dunno, be the butt of some joke, like you cover me with mustard or something.

Bobby's eyes go wide. He starts to scribble into a notepad.

What are you writing?

Nothing...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Big P, Tadd, and Leena, armed with the knowledge that the terrible triad of evil brother, corn magnate, and pepper peddler all together for quilting are at their hideout, a local Pizza Hut. They all get on longboards and begin to cruise their way to Pizza Hut, the corpse of the good clone of Hoggart just sitting in a hole in a box unattended.

We should be careful! We're not wearing pads or helmets!

No time, Tadd.

I know, but I have my awesome custom helmet and pads!

Oh my dear, but this is life and death! Detective Hatepants can't stand that much more mustarding!

The trio arrives at Pizza Hut, which is actually pretty close to the graveyard. They rush inside, and are immediately greeted by cyborg ninjas! Behind the ninjas, Hoggart, Charles Store Jr., and Bisabuela Martina stand. Detective Hatepants, tied to his chair in Pizza Hut, covered in mustard, looks miserable. Their server comes to their table and takes away some empty plates and brings a box for their pie.

Save yourselves! It's too late for me!

Bisabuela Martina pours more mustard on Detective Hatepants, who writhes in agony.

Face it, Big P, you're outnumbered!

No we aren't!

With that, the glass of a window shatters, and the rest of the diners look annoyed that this is all happening while they went out to lunch. Though the glass dives the clone of the good clone of Hoggart! He has a silenced Walther PPK! He shoots Charles Store Jr. in the head, dropping him! He blasts Bisabuela Martina! With the succinct sound of a silenced pistol shot, the evil long-lost brother Hoggart is dropped! As soon as they go down, all the cyborg ninjas shut down!

Clone of the good clone of Hoggart! Right in the nick of time!

That's right! Now the bad guys are all dead, and your money is safe!

Phew!

Leena, turned on by this, puts her arm around Tadd's waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU EDITED ALL OUT?

TK looks more than annoyed.

Look, bro, we needed to cut some stuff for time, and all those scenes were kinda changing the whole vibe of what we were doing.

Those scenes set the tone and were highly dramatic!

Bobby shrugs.

I know! You're preaching to the choir, but all the hardcore sex scenes between you and Leena had to be cut. Our sponsors didn't want to be associated with that kind of stuff, and besides, you can always sell the scenes on your Onlyfans.

TK nods, looking as though acceptance has crossed his mind.

Fair enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We see Detective Hatepants, still yellowed and pretty pissed looking that he got covered in mustard, putting Hoggart, Charles Store Jr., and Bisabuela Martina's corpses in handcuffs.

We'll take these guys downtown. Thanks for the rescue, clone of the good clone of Hoggart!

My pleasure.

Our pleasure.

Big P and the clone of the good clone of Hoggart give each other a high five.

Well, I guess we should celebrate! We cured cancer, stopped a quilting club's nefarious scheme to blackmail me over my woman...

Tadd turns to Leena.

Oh, by the way, we're breaking up now. Sorry, stepmom.

It's okay, stepson. I've enjoyed boinking you thoroughly, and your father is still supporting our half-werewolf son, so I'll just fade away.

Cool.

Big P and Tadd stand next to each other, smiling.

Well, Big P, what should we do now?

Big P looks at Tadd.

Please...




























































































call me Porky.

The screen goes dim as we hear a voiceover.

Thank you for watching the BOBTube presentation of Porky's 2. Coming up next, Miss Fury's Nanny Nightmares!












Credits









Big P / Porky .............................................................................................................................................................................................. Bobby Bourbon









Tadd ....................................................................................................................................................................................................... Thunder Knuckles










Leena .................................................................................................................................................................................................................. Blue Astrid









Walter / Tadd's father ..................................................................................................................................................................................... Ron Jermey









Hoggart's clone ...................................................................................................................................................................................... Edge (short hair)









Hoggart's clone's clone ........................................................................................................................................................................ Edge (short hair)









Hoggart .................................................................................................................................................................................................... Edge (long hair)









Bisabuela Martina .......................................................................................................................................................................................... Vodka Marie









Detective Hatepates ................................................................................................................................................................... "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane









Charles Store Jr. ............................................................................................................................................................................................. Steve Carell








{FIN}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the wrap party for Porky's 2, we catch up with Bobby and TK. Bobby looks at the camera.

Well, hello!

Let me tell y'all a little story.

See, we know we're fucking ready for March Madness. We've been preparing for our match with these guys since the last time we faced Continuum. We know it's not going to be easy, unless I handcuff one of you lil' scumbags to me, in which case you'll just be slung around like the bag of Doc's laundry you have to do to keep him in Continuum and from making fun of how dramatic you lil' scumbags are.

I mean, if we wanted to be honest, we would point out how you completely stepped away from doing anything dramatic, shooting for jokes from South Park from over a decade ago to compete with us. Sweet choice of vocabulary, by the way, nice to see that one hundred and sixty pounds of body frame was able to lift a heavy book like a thesaurus but couldn't decide whether to call me Bobby or Robbie.

As opposed to yourself, Charlie Nickles, Robert Main, or even ole' Chris Page, I don't have multiple personas, but keep it up, I suppose. Hook that Dragonball fanbase, make 'em think I'll power up to a new form to get the win, instead of just showing up with my partner with all the momentum of the universe to get the win.

Where's the footage of you guys hugging it out with Doc, by the way?

Bobby grins and rolls his eyes.

THAT I would love to see. Also, that would've been comedic gold.

Anyhow, it's storytime.

See, there once were these two brothers, the older brother was named Gary, and the younger was named Gray, I guess because their parents really liked the name Gary and just rolled with it and rearranged some letters to keep it similar. Gary and Gray were thick as thieves, closer to each other than Siamese twins, and their parents always told them how special they were.

Gary was a bright and shining star, and Gray glowed like the moon, both illuminating the skies for their mommy and daddy.

Now, Gary and Gray did accomplish some wonderful shit together. Their mommy and daddy proudly displayed all their trophies, marked all their accomplishments, and constantly told them how special they were for all the great things they did. Every victory was celebrated, and anything that wasn't, well, they just kind of ignored it and swept it under the rug.

Gary and Gray wound up getting all the confidence in the world. They felt fit, emboldened, empowered, et cetera. In their home, there wasn't a feat they couldn't accomplish, all the while patting each other on the back and reassuring one another that they were amazing.

Acting like they shat baby powder and roses, their shit not stinking whatsoever.

And then, bam, one day a pair of gorillas clubbed them over the heads and took all their accolades.

Suddenly, without any warning, the two boys who had the whole world and all the talents were just left to be ordinary and wanting.

See, Thad, Corey, you guys are talented. I'm not going to say you aren't. The Tag Team Championships aren't being served up on a platter for us by any means whatsoever. You've beaten your fair share of talent, which makes you pretty great. Cataclysm? Very talented, though I'm not sure if you think so. You keep slamming Chris Page, saying he's a champ who can't hold water or draw flies, but neither of you seem to be stepping up to take his Universal Championship. Was beating him and Main a thing or no?

D.D.S.? Charlie Nickles has been on fire and his stock is constantly rising in this company. Marf and Lycana? They show promise. Hell, you even harped about beating us, so I guess that makes us pretty important. Can you do it twice? Nah, not without a patsy to take the fall for us.

However, and here's the thing, talent is great. Is it greatness?

Bobby Bourbon and Thunder Knuckles are coming to claim greatness, not talent.

We know we're talented. We know your talents. I don't think you understand how to avoid what makes us talented, what defines us as great, and won't stop us from becoming the very pinnacle of tag team wrestling. You know why?

We ARE the pinnacle of tag team wrestling.

Flaunt the fact you've gone 3-0. That's a solid hot streak. Is it a vaunted, insurmountable thing? No, not really. Even schlubs like Peter Gilmour were capable of stringing together three wins over four months. I guess you guys are so great you don't have to compete and the bed of laurels is cozy enough to rest on for long enough stretches of time.

Mark my words, we're defending the Tag Team Titles at Warfare on the 21st of April.

If you want a rematch then, by all means, but I see you boys sure as shit didn't sign up to even compete as a team, let alone defend. Is it because you know you won't be holding the straps by then?

I mean, you're hyping a ton of wonderful matches you COULD have had by now, but just haven't. You can still have them, after all!

They just won't be involving the Tag Team Championships.

By all means, Continuum versus Betsy and Atara sounds like a wonderful main event match. Continuum versus teams from yesteryear? Sure, sign me up, sell me a ticket, let me grab my popcorn. Continuum versus teams of the future? Sounds incredible, we all look forward to seeing it.

You don't have to even be tag team champions to have any of those matches!

Bobby shakes his head 'no'.

We get it. Those belts define you as a team.

We define ourselves as a team, and we'll define the Tag Team Championships as something. Not the other way 'round.

TK, we got these fools in body bags, you wanna fire up the hearse?


Thunder Knuckles rubs his hands together ready to get to the task at hand.


Sure fucking thing, Bobby. Now that we ran through an entire year's worth of Continuum storyline for one show. No need for them to be hanging out in the tag division anymore. By the way, did you enjoy Porky's 2?


Thunder Knuckles says with a crooked smile.


Answer one question though. Why do they keep talking about Chris Page, Bobby?


Bobby Bourbon looks bewildered.


I honestly don't know.

Do they think Chris Page is in BOB? Is that supposed to make us fucking angry or something? They certainly talk a lot about researching with montages, or what-the-fuck-ever, but if they did they'd know BOB kicked Page's ass then Ol' Thunder Knuckles got a Page plant on Warfare all before the Pay-Per-View. Hell, you could make a whole fucking radio show about that shit! Who'd a thought?


Thunder Knuckles looks off to a side camera.


March Madness! which you can order tomorrow and watch Them No Good Bastards beat the overconfident Cuntiuum team in a tornado tag match.



The shot switches back to the hard camera. Bobby Bourbon smiles at Thunder Knuckles, knowing exactly what Knuckles is about to say.


Make no mistake about it, those two fucking idiots, don't pay attention at all. They keep saying just showing up doesn't make us relevant.

Not a fucking word about Page actually when it mattered. Has Duke affected the way Corey works now? I mean, Duke's second Recorded Promo was certainly affected by Corey. Is this how they work as a team? You know, taking all the worst qualities of themselves and meshing it together? Boys, you're fucking up. Just look around March Madness, Corey. Even Cuntiuum needs Them No Good Bastards. Don't just take my word for it. Check out Dawk's Recorded Promos. He needed far more than just you two little bitches. That's the easiest FOURTY THOUSAND XBUX I've ever made. Well, next to anytime people that Corey knows got to paid Ol' Thunder Knuckles to win that is. Todd place the transaction on the screen!


[Image: awrFk4Y.png]



That's not clout, fuck-wits. That's payment.


Thunder Knuckles says with a devious smile.


Don't just stop with Dawk's fucking work. Nooooo, far more of the goddamn roster sees Them No Good Bastards star power. We've been in more Promotional work than any team in recent history! Something Cuntinuum hasn't ever fucking done. Sure they'll call us whores. Hell, they ready have.


Thunder Knuckles gives a stale jerking-off hand gesture.


But we all know it's better to be a whore than a slut, like your tag team partner for this match, Thaddeus Duke. Speaking of fucking which, Duke said something about the bottom goddamn dollar before. Todd hit the mother fucker with the bottom dollar again.


[Image: awrFk4Y.png]



The bottom-dollar is Ol' Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon sells fucking tickets, T-shirts, Hell, throw us a fucking baby leopard we'll sell that shit too! That's something that Corey can't do and hasn't done. Corey is as good at selling as he is taking on upper-tier guys these days. Anyone catch him defending his challengers lately? Boasted up the fact Dixion isn't a rookie because he's been in other places competing... Hey, Bobby!


Thunder Knuckles looks over at Bobby Bourbon.


What is it called when you're new and never rassled in a company?

Rookie.

That's what I fucking thought.


Thunder Knuckles looks down at the ground.


But he's right...


Thunder Knuckles pauses to let that sink in for XWF fans around the world.


Corey is right... That body did beat Robbie Bourbon.


Thunder Knuckles pulls his head back up to show a shit-eating grin.


But that wasn't fucking you was it, Corey? That was a goddamn virus. Not Pretty Corey Smith at all. That brings me to something fucking else entirely. While the Virus took control of you. Where in the actual fuck was your best friend Duke? Why wasn't he there to fucking help you? You like to call bullshit. Well, the only bullshit Ol' Thunder Knuckles sees is running down your fucking leg and it stinks to high fucking Hell. That's why you're whole fucking-


Thunder Knuckles give a more over-exaggerated jerking-off hand gesture this time, with a release to simulate the jizz following out.


-unbeaten six months shit comes to a fucking end at March Madness. At the hands of Them No Good Bastards and, man, is it going to piss you off! Taking an "L" to Ol' Thunder Knuckles I wonder how long it's going to take for you to try and get that one back?

Probably not long.

Well, it would have to be in a tag team competition because Them No Good Bastards don't compete unless it's together. Can you believe those fucking idiots still have signed up for the Tag Team Turmoil tournament?

Really? After Duke got scared and switched his game plan?

Five xbux says he goes back to it so he can say it was the plan all along.

Bet. Not even he's that stupid.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs exactly .01 seconds too long. In order not to be sued by L.I.E., Then Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon shake on the bet.


Still, it's pretty fucking crazy they wouldn't put out an insurance policy on their chance at redemption, right? Anyway, I'm so glad you finally waited to open your mouth at the very end. Another thing Corey likes to do. Fluffy you with some bullshit going on in Corey's life and BANG hit you with his "good stuff". Them No Good Bastards hit you with the good stuff from first to last because we know we're the best and not need to bullshit on the way there. You should really wipe that up, dog. It's gross. plus I really don't want to fucking grab your ankle with shit running down it. Show some fucking class for a change.


Thunder Knuckles beaming with confidence continues.


Hey, Bobby?


Bobby smiles because he knows Thunder Knuckles is about to be a giant cock bag.


Did we lose at fucking Snow Job?

Nope.


Them No Good Bastards both look into the camera and give the middle finger to Corey. Just to let him know he can die on that hill, alone.


Looking past us to a future matchup against Atty and Betsy or possibly a team from the past, isn't very smart, fuckers. You're in a fucking war you should have seen coming. After all, Corey is a mind reader.

If he was. He wouldn't have been such an eager beaver for this fight. He said it himself he was looking forward to this.

Until he's in the fucking thick of it. Now he's surrounded and crawling in the mud like a real soldier.


Thunder Knuckles jumps to attention and puts his right hand up to his head to salute.


Too fucking bad he's going to be Killed In Action, just like Duke's little war story.


Thunder Knuckles finishes the salute but with his middle finger.


Now, watch out, Bobby! They're going to use all their feelings I know because Corey warned us.


Thunder Knuckles said overdramatically.


Check it out boys I picked up a new skill! But seriously, They're going to use all their fucking emotions on us! Just like the goddamn Care Bears. Fucking shooting mother fucking emotion beams out their bellies and shit. So you HAVE to watch out for focus-fired emotion belly lasers. I guess, they're real.


Thunder Knuckles knows it's about time to wrap this the fuck up and a serious demeanor comes over his face.


I am a little upset that Thad thinks that Ol' Thunder Knuckles thinks he's boring. That's not the case at all. Drama isn't boring! We proved it with Porky's 2! I'd keep talking about Thad, but honestly, he's already said everything he was going to say. Now he's just going to fucking repeat himself. Now if you fucking excuse use. We're going to climb into my new fucking trans am and get the fuck to Vegas. The tag champs have a Rainbow Laser Death Sequence to eat.


Them No Good Bastards start to leave the after party for Porky's 2. Bobby, TK, accompanied by Big Money Oswald, depart for whatever awaits them on the passage we just call life. The familial bonds that go unspoken, that don't need to be thrust into scope and to prop up any form of vindication, that form some kind of connection intended to resonate with the consumer of such media. The crux of the kinship that runs so deep that any manner of homogenization of it results in something that parodies itself, something that even Disney or Hallmark would find too simplistic for it's viewership and is best left for Canadian cable access television.

Perfect.]]> <![CDATA[Superstorm Solace]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40280 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:03:11 -0700 NA]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40280 "The video opens to the bWo studios where Tommy Slavino is standing by.

[Image: A7te6bh.jpg]


Tommy Slavino: “Hello ladies and gentlemen, My name is Tony Slavino, and I’m “The Voice of bWo”! I regret to inform you all that Miss Fury decided to use the remaining time between now and March Madness to-" (OOC: CREDIT TO MISS FURY)

[Image: n6CJI5F.png]


Jeff Crosby: We interrupt your... "entertainment that nobody gives a shit about anyway" to bring you breaking news from our Weather station about the rare March hurricane that has now evolved into one of the most dangerous storms in a century! Superstorm Solace has become a massive, powerful, and dangerous category 3 hurricane and has all but destroyed the Island of Hanari.

[Image: FF0TYI3.jpg]


Jeff: Now, we have seen what Superstorm Solace could do when she left the Island of Hanari in utter ruin causing many of the 'experts' to be stunned and in disbelief as all of our projections were shattered. This being said, our newest projections suggest Solace is not done yet, heading right for the mainland. First stop Mount Fury which has, up until the very last moment, refused to take Superstorm Solace seriously but look at these projected numbers...

[Image: dhmryKB.png]


Solace is currently projected to go from zero to 60 real quick as it collides into M. Fury; its next victim on this path of destruction. Let's give it to our Hurricane Specialist, Bethany Curtis for more. Bethany?

Bethany: Thanks, Jeff. It was less than a month ago our radars picked up disruption in the Atlantic and I have to admit, none of us could have ever predicted this system would become as strong as this storm has, as fast! Right now, our simulations predict that Superstorm Solace is expected to slow down and really hammer M. Fury as a category 3 hurricane.

Jeff: Any indication that M. Fury's residents have begun evacuation?

Bethany: None at all, Jeff. Residents have made it clear that if this storm is as bad as we are expecting, they are going down with the ship, and right now, they are on the Titanic as we expect Superstorm Solace to absolutely devastate the entire region.

Jeff: Thank you, Bethany. Keep us updated. Let's take a look at the possibilities that seem most likely for Solace after running the gauntlet on Mount Fury... First, our least likely scenario depicts Solace on track to continue Northwest barrelling towards the City of Atara where the tiny town of Warstein, which is typically hidden in her shadow, is now part of the danger unfolding. Let's take it down to the city level with our correspondent Shawn and his weather-bot. What are people doing in preparation for Solace. Shawn?

Shawn: Afternoon, Jeff! We are here in the City of Atara and I got to tell you that right now it's sunshine and rainbows. It's eerie how misleading this weather is, Jeff, knowing there's a monster potentially rolling in our direction as we speak but that hasn't stopped the people of Warstein and Atara from preparing ahead. In fact, a little confusion today caused the people of Warstein to flee towards Atara which is the opposite direction they want to go, Jeff...

Jeff: What caused this confusion?

Shawn: Jeff... residents of Warstein truly feel protected within Atara's walls, but from what we've seen from Superstorm Solace, walls aren't going to be enough to protect the people of Atara or Warstein as they potentially endure sustained category 3 force winds. Just a really dangerous situation for this scenario, Jeff.

Jeff: Any new information from weather-bot?

Shawn: No... unfortunately, the weather-bot got a bit wet.

Jeff: Oh, but... wait, isn't it sunny out?

Shawn: Back to you, Jeff.

Jeff: Al...right. Anyway. Another path Solace might take, after decimating Mount Fury, is a turn towards the straight north right into Granger Beach. Let's go down to the sands and speak with our reporter on location, Osira. Osira?

Osira is knee-deep in water as the low-level beach is overtaken by a high tide.

[Image: 613tMse.png]


Osira: Jeff, the probability of Superstorm Solace heading for this area is becoming a likely scenario and it doesn't bode well for residents of Granger Beach. As you can see, miles out, Solace is still pushing a storm-surge that is sure to be within the 5 to 8 feet mark here even as it reaches Mount Fury.

Jeff: Have people begun evacuation.

Osira: No, they haven't. Like everyone else, it seems nobody ever considered Superstorm Solace becoming the threat that she is. In fact, by the time Granger residents accept their circumstances, these surges are going to make travels Impossible.

Jeff: Please keep us...

Osira is taken by the water and rushed away from the camera's view. There was nothing anyone could do to help her. All that was left was Granger Beach and its pending catastrophe barrelling towards the shore.

Jeff: We seemed to have lost Osira. Oh well. Anyway, our third likely track might be the most likely course and that is a southern turn that would continue west and into the mountainous town of Doctoville. We have our weather specialist Keiran on location in the town of Koverton with the latest. Keiran?

[Image: 9cpqDhZ.png]


Keiran is standing firm as winds battle to push him from his stance.

Keiran: I am... here... on... location... and... the... winds... are picking... uPPPP

Suddenly a gusting wind manages to lift Keiran off his feet. He grabs a nearby telephone poll as he hangs for dear life but it's too much for his brittle fingers. He flies away with the debris around him and out of sight.

[Image: 0kuDthX.png]


Jeff: We have lost Keiran, but with those winds, he never really had a chance. That leaves us with Doctoville and Sarah Wilson is up on top of the mountain. Sarah, any signs of Superstorm Solace's wrath?

[Image: SBclWRN.png]


Sarah: Not yet, Jeff... and quite frankly, this path might be a monkey wrench that doesn't bode well for Superstorm Solace. The elevation of Doctoville against Solace's momentum might prove to be enough to destabilize the storm but if she remains at category 3, the history of mudslides on this mountain might cause just enough calamity to make the difference. The people of Doctoville are aware of their height and how far in-land from the shore, but they absolutely shouldn't underestimate this storm, Jeff.

Jeff: It seems a common thread with all of these areas of interest... simply failing to acknowledge the severity of Solace's threat as a storm.

Sarah: This is true, Jeff... a storm of this magnitude at this rate of power is a rare event, and since people haven't seen it in their lifetime, they might be about to experience it first-hand!

Jeff: Thank you, Sarah... That concludes our breaking news update, we will keep an eye on Superstorm Solace, but we at the weather station truly urge the cities and towns in Solace's path to take extra precautions... this storm is coming whether you believe it or not. Ration food and water, fill up your generators, take shelter, and prepare for the likelihood that you are not as safe as you believe you are.

Wait... before we leave you, we are receiving an update from Mount Fury Naval command... it seems the S.S. Oswald, a billion-dollar cargoship has capsized west of the Island of Hanari... a ship that managed to endure a hit from Solace before rising to category 3 status has now been hit a second time and sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic. A word from M. Fury states, "They never saw her coming." A haunting reminder that the Quiet Storm is not to be underestimated. Evacuate. Please.

[Image: nJoigRQ.png]


Instead of returning to Bobtube, as nobody cares, Steve Sayors XWF Show: What'd you Say? airs instead.

"Before... March Madness... an interview with a rising star... Solace TATUM!!!"

Solace walks out with a bright smile, her hand extended as Steve Sayor reaches for it.

Steve: Welcome back! I've missed you...

Solace: ...

Steven: I've missed your... uh, I missed your last promo so I'm hoping I don't repeat anything you've already said!

Solace: Way to research your guests, Steve.

Solace chuckles as Steve nervously cackles, both sitting in their respective chairs.

Steve: There's a lot to go over... let's start with the second chance battle royale. Who is coming out of that one on top?

Solace: Andre Dixon.

Steve: Really? What do you know about Andre Dixon?

Solace: I know he's a shitty gambler... aside from that, he's in a second chance battle royale because he probably fucked up the first chance somehow. Good thing these guys in the management have big hearts otherwise, you'd be wrestling Joey Oddjobs every week until you're forced off the cards. Enough of you. You might not even win the damn thing... but if you do... I'll be ready.

Steve: I'm glad to hear you say it because my next question is... do you agree that taking on Oswald while having to compete in the March Madness Tournament was a naive rookie mistake?

Solace: No. Sounds like Miss Fury is projecting her own disabilities. That isn't my problem. Just because her work ethic is shit and typically wastes her time on promos rather than training, although, I think she now realizes what is about to happen to her... hence the skipping out of a 4th promo so she can play catch up. Oh and then popping up at the end of it just to say the same shit about me that she's been saying the entire time.

Steve: Yes, and also that you are creatively bankrupt. Saying Imitation is the sincerest form of failure. What do you say about that?

Solace: It's rich coming from the chick who made her first promo admitting her entire identity was adopted from an old comic book character. Her attire... her personality... her ring name. Name one thing original about her... what I did wasn't imitate her... it was showing the world just how easy it was to do what she does, and improve upon it! She failed to do the same when adopting Miss Fury and ruined what inspired her in the first place... doesn't that make Miss Fury the failure?

Steve: Do you feel, being a newcomer, that you are in over your head? Or as Miss Fury would say, WAY over your head?

Solace: I do my best swimming in the deep end. Oh, and I told one person about my weird superhero dream, but that's far from a promo, just so you know. Sadly, she is so out of ammunition that she had to rely on tiny tidbits of my personal life to grasp at straws... another sign of insecurity on her part so if that was a grade B Miss Fury Promo... that's an improvement on her full-length grade C promos. Maybe she should ask Oswald for more money and not allow "trivial shit" like quality stand in her way.

Steve: Jesus...

Solace: Don't ask me about Miss Fury again. She gets enough underserved attention and after March Madness, I'm going to shut her the fuck up. Sorry... I don't need her telling me I have promise, I know who I am... she doesn't even know who she is. Next.

Steve: I'm sorry, Solace... I just had one more thing to ask about. Miss Fury had made a point of accusing you of changing the narrative by releasing multiple promos... is that what you were doing?

Solace: That was a storm... brewing... it was Godzilla charging up atomic breath... that was a warm-up... Miss Fury, of course, knows she has a problem or she wouldn't keep complimenting my skills in the same breath as insulting my style. She knows I smell blood in the water... and all her empty rhetoric has accomplished is piquing my appetite. She relies on corruption and cheating and changing the rules to win... I think she is starting to realize i'm not someone she can read, write, or delete... and that's the narrative. I'm a water-mark, she's a water-color. I'm here to stay... and she's dissolving the closer we get to March Madness.

Steve: Okay, moving on. The favorite going into this tournament hasn't been you... in fact, it seems, for the most part, the other seven competitors have been sleeping on Solace Tatum. How do you interpret that?

Solace: Betsy was the only one who hasn't underestimated me... even going as far as to extend her hand in friendship. With that said, I have great respect for her and there's no doubt that she's an up-and-comer. That makes me... the up-and-comer-second-runner-up. Defeating her would make me the up and comer. I would probably have the right to claim a shot at the Shooting Star championship... who knows where that win would take me? March Madness is one thing, beating Betsy Granger would be everything. With a goal like that... I think it's obvious that respect has nothing to do with this. We both know if it's her and I in that ring... i'm going for her neck. I'll take her on a magic carpet ride so she can see all the places she wants to see before she reaches her final destination... March Madness. I will have your back, Betsy... but at March Madness, i'm going to derail the Betsy-Train.

Steve: Do you trust Betsy Granger?

Solace: I don't really trust anyone... but, in time, I think Betsy and myself will have each other's backs. I did like that moniker she mentioned, "Sensational Solace Tatum" which might be a good one for down the road.

Steve: While Betsy has made nice with you, others in her immediate circle have taken the opposite approach. Shawn Warstein has called Anarchy a show for the weak. Do you agree?

Solace: I think Shawn is so into his own self that you can't really take anything he says to heart. I truly think he's speaking out of turn, but, he has the influence and connections to call himself a legend... I don't agree but I also don't take it personally.

Steve: Do you take being called a sheep and follower personally? He claims you're the perfect candidate to join the left hand, making you weak and unfit for the crown of XWF queen... he asks what you've done and who you've beaten... but then goes on to say you are talented and can get the job done...

Solace: And then that "you can find a Solace Tatum anywhere." He has about the same lack of focus as Miss Fury does. Clearly, judging from everything he's said about me in one chunk like that really solidifies just what I was saying before... he doesn't research, he doesn't pay attention, he doesn't have enough respect for anyone to actually do his homework because he only has enough time in a day to cater to his girlfriend's appeasement.

Steve: Are you a sheep, Solace?

Solace: Sheep? Me? Shawn calls me a sheep? The guy who follows James Raven with the tip of his nose where the sun doesn't shine half the time... the other half, it's in Atara's ass? You're projecting, Shawn... and if anyone does anything with their left hand... it's him. Not to join the cult, but to feed Atara grapes as she bathes his stench off of her body. Shawn, stay in your lane, pal... you never took the time to study me... but I took the time to study you, not that you have to worry about it.

Steve: Now, as mentioned, there's a favorite in this tournament, and it's a person who has mentioned you barely at all... Doctor Louise De'ville. You say you are underestimated and that Betsy could see your potential... even Miss Fury made sure to compliment your talents, as well as Shawn Warstein... but in the end, each have dismissed your ability... Is Doc De'ville dismissing Solace Tatum... or is he hoping you underestimate him?

Solace: I wouldn't sit here and pretend to read Doc's, or anyone else's, mind. All I know is... he called me a piece of scrap that got lost and mixed up in this tournament which tells me he is being dismissive... but I think that he and I share a common enjoyment in life and that is the climb rather than reaching the mountain top. Hey, maybe i'm wrong and Doc wants to sit by himself at the top of the peak, but to get there, he has to overcome Solace Tatum. If he underestimates me it would be like climbing a mountain to reach the top only to realize it's a volcano about the erupt. A doctor who misreads the symptoms is committing malpractice. But his field isn't my specialty, I'm a surgeon and that ring is my operating table. I'm going to open him up and dissect him. I'm sure you'll say some dark shit to me. I've read Edgar Allen Poe. I've seen Sweeney Todd. I like what you do, the way you make Shawn Warstein pray to a different God every night before he goes to bed. After he drinks his milk and puts on his dinosaur onesies then crawls into a sarcophagus near Atara's feet. Doc doesn't think I belong here? Is that his diagnosis? Not only do I belong here, but I damn sure didn't spend a week sucking up to that creepy old asshole. I thought he was a mastermind but now? Pshh. All these people treat him like king shit, but he's not. Not yet.. not until you face me. And since you spent 2 promos pretending I didn't exist... and a third to dismiss me... and a fourth to patronize me... Can't wait, buddy. Better show up.

Steve: That concludes today's interview. Thank you, Solace, and Good luck this Sunday!

Solace: Thank you, Steve.

Steve opens his arms for a hug but she walks past him.

[Image: LDzv7ym.png]
]]> "The video opens to the bWo studios where Tommy Slavino is standing by.

[Image: A7te6bh.jpg]


Tommy Slavino: “Hello ladies and gentlemen, My name is Tony Slavino, and I’m “The Voice of bWo”! I regret to inform you all that Miss Fury decided to use the remaining time between now and March Madness to-" (OOC: CREDIT TO MISS FURY)

[Image: n6CJI5F.png]


Jeff Crosby: We interrupt your... "entertainment that nobody gives a shit about anyway" to bring you breaking news from our Weather station about the rare March hurricane that has now evolved into one of the most dangerous storms in a century! Superstorm Solace has become a massive, powerful, and dangerous category 3 hurricane and has all but destroyed the Island of Hanari.

[Image: FF0TYI3.jpg]


Jeff: Now, we have seen what Superstorm Solace could do when she left the Island of Hanari in utter ruin causing many of the 'experts' to be stunned and in disbelief as all of our projections were shattered. This being said, our newest projections suggest Solace is not done yet, heading right for the mainland. First stop Mount Fury which has, up until the very last moment, refused to take Superstorm Solace seriously but look at these projected numbers...

[Image: dhmryKB.png]


Solace is currently projected to go from zero to 60 real quick as it collides into M. Fury; its next victim on this path of destruction. Let's give it to our Hurricane Specialist, Bethany Curtis for more. Bethany?

Bethany: Thanks, Jeff. It was less than a month ago our radars picked up disruption in the Atlantic and I have to admit, none of us could have ever predicted this system would become as strong as this storm has, as fast! Right now, our simulations predict that Superstorm Solace is expected to slow down and really hammer M. Fury as a category 3 hurricane.

Jeff: Any indication that M. Fury's residents have begun evacuation?

Bethany: None at all, Jeff. Residents have made it clear that if this storm is as bad as we are expecting, they are going down with the ship, and right now, they are on the Titanic as we expect Superstorm Solace to absolutely devastate the entire region.

Jeff: Thank you, Bethany. Keep us updated. Let's take a look at the possibilities that seem most likely for Solace after running the gauntlet on Mount Fury... First, our least likely scenario depicts Solace on track to continue Northwest barrelling towards the City of Atara where the tiny town of Warstein, which is typically hidden in her shadow, is now part of the danger unfolding. Let's take it down to the city level with our correspondent Shawn and his weather-bot. What are people doing in preparation for Solace. Shawn?

Shawn: Afternoon, Jeff! We are here in the City of Atara and I got to tell you that right now it's sunshine and rainbows. It's eerie how misleading this weather is, Jeff, knowing there's a monster potentially rolling in our direction as we speak but that hasn't stopped the people of Warstein and Atara from preparing ahead. In fact, a little confusion today caused the people of Warstein to flee towards Atara which is the opposite direction they want to go, Jeff...

Jeff: What caused this confusion?

Shawn: Jeff... residents of Warstein truly feel protected within Atara's walls, but from what we've seen from Superstorm Solace, walls aren't going to be enough to protect the people of Atara or Warstein as they potentially endure sustained category 3 force winds. Just a really dangerous situation for this scenario, Jeff.

Jeff: Any new information from weather-bot?

Shawn: No... unfortunately, the weather-bot got a bit wet.

Jeff: Oh, but... wait, isn't it sunny out?

Shawn: Back to you, Jeff.

Jeff: Al...right. Anyway. Another path Solace might take, after decimating Mount Fury, is a turn towards the straight north right into Granger Beach. Let's go down to the sands and speak with our reporter on location, Osira. Osira?

Osira is knee-deep in water as the low-level beach is overtaken by a high tide.

[Image: 613tMse.png]


Osira: Jeff, the probability of Superstorm Solace heading for this area is becoming a likely scenario and it doesn't bode well for residents of Granger Beach. As you can see, miles out, Solace is still pushing a storm-surge that is sure to be within the 5 to 8 feet mark here even as it reaches Mount Fury.

Jeff: Have people begun evacuation.

Osira: No, they haven't. Like everyone else, it seems nobody ever considered Superstorm Solace becoming the threat that she is. In fact, by the time Granger residents accept their circumstances, these surges are going to make travels Impossible.

Jeff: Please keep us...

Osira is taken by the water and rushed away from the camera's view. There was nothing anyone could do to help her. All that was left was Granger Beach and its pending catastrophe barrelling towards the shore.

Jeff: We seemed to have lost Osira. Oh well. Anyway, our third likely track might be the most likely course and that is a southern turn that would continue west and into the mountainous town of Doctoville. We have our weather specialist Keiran on location in the town of Koverton with the latest. Keiran?

[Image: 9cpqDhZ.png]


Keiran is standing firm as winds battle to push him from his stance.

Keiran: I am... here... on... location... and... the... winds... are picking... uPPPP

Suddenly a gusting wind manages to lift Keiran off his feet. He grabs a nearby telephone poll as he hangs for dear life but it's too much for his brittle fingers. He flies away with the debris around him and out of sight.

[Image: 0kuDthX.png]


Jeff: We have lost Keiran, but with those winds, he never really had a chance. That leaves us with Doctoville and Sarah Wilson is up on top of the mountain. Sarah, any signs of Superstorm Solace's wrath?

[Image: SBclWRN.png]


Sarah: Not yet, Jeff... and quite frankly, this path might be a monkey wrench that doesn't bode well for Superstorm Solace. The elevation of Doctoville against Solace's momentum might prove to be enough to destabilize the storm but if she remains at category 3, the history of mudslides on this mountain might cause just enough calamity to make the difference. The people of Doctoville are aware of their height and how far in-land from the shore, but they absolutely shouldn't underestimate this storm, Jeff.

Jeff: It seems a common thread with all of these areas of interest... simply failing to acknowledge the severity of Solace's threat as a storm.

Sarah: This is true, Jeff... a storm of this magnitude at this rate of power is a rare event, and since people haven't seen it in their lifetime, they might be about to experience it first-hand!

Jeff: Thank you, Sarah... That concludes our breaking news update, we will keep an eye on Superstorm Solace, but we at the weather station truly urge the cities and towns in Solace's path to take extra precautions... this storm is coming whether you believe it or not. Ration food and water, fill up your generators, take shelter, and prepare for the likelihood that you are not as safe as you believe you are.

Wait... before we leave you, we are receiving an update from Mount Fury Naval command... it seems the S.S. Oswald, a billion-dollar cargoship has capsized west of the Island of Hanari... a ship that managed to endure a hit from Solace before rising to category 3 status has now been hit a second time and sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic. A word from M. Fury states, "They never saw her coming." A haunting reminder that the Quiet Storm is not to be underestimated. Evacuate. Please.

[Image: nJoigRQ.png]


Instead of returning to Bobtube, as nobody cares, Steve Sayors XWF Show: What'd you Say? airs instead.

"Before... March Madness... an interview with a rising star... Solace TATUM!!!"

Solace walks out with a bright smile, her hand extended as Steve Sayor reaches for it.

Steve: Welcome back! I've missed you...

Solace: ...

Steven: I've missed your... uh, I missed your last promo so I'm hoping I don't repeat anything you've already said!

Solace: Way to research your guests, Steve.

Solace chuckles as Steve nervously cackles, both sitting in their respective chairs.

Steve: There's a lot to go over... let's start with the second chance battle royale. Who is coming out of that one on top?

Solace: Andre Dixon.

Steve: Really? What do you know about Andre Dixon?

Solace: I know he's a shitty gambler... aside from that, he's in a second chance battle royale because he probably fucked up the first chance somehow. Good thing these guys in the management have big hearts otherwise, you'd be wrestling Joey Oddjobs every week until you're forced off the cards. Enough of you. You might not even win the damn thing... but if you do... I'll be ready.

Steve: I'm glad to hear you say it because my next question is... do you agree that taking on Oswald while having to compete in the March Madness Tournament was a naive rookie mistake?

Solace: No. Sounds like Miss Fury is projecting her own disabilities. That isn't my problem. Just because her work ethic is shit and typically wastes her time on promos rather than training, although, I think she now realizes what is about to happen to her... hence the skipping out of a 4th promo so she can play catch up. Oh and then popping up at the end of it just to say the same shit about me that she's been saying the entire time.

Steve: Yes, and also that you are creatively bankrupt. Saying Imitation is the sincerest form of failure. What do you say about that?

Solace: It's rich coming from the chick who made her first promo admitting her entire identity was adopted from an old comic book character. Her attire... her personality... her ring name. Name one thing original about her... what I did wasn't imitate her... it was showing the world just how easy it was to do what she does, and improve upon it! She failed to do the same when adopting Miss Fury and ruined what inspired her in the first place... doesn't that make Miss Fury the failure?

Steve: Do you feel, being a newcomer, that you are in over your head? Or as Miss Fury would say, WAY over your head?

Solace: I do my best swimming in the deep end. Oh, and I told one person about my weird superhero dream, but that's far from a promo, just so you know. Sadly, she is so out of ammunition that she had to rely on tiny tidbits of my personal life to grasp at straws... another sign of insecurity on her part so if that was a grade B Miss Fury Promo... that's an improvement on her full-length grade C promos. Maybe she should ask Oswald for more money and not allow "trivial shit" like quality stand in her way.

Steve: Jesus...

Solace: Don't ask me about Miss Fury again. She gets enough underserved attention and after March Madness, I'm going to shut her the fuck up. Sorry... I don't need her telling me I have promise, I know who I am... she doesn't even know who she is. Next.

Steve: I'm sorry, Solace... I just had one more thing to ask about. Miss Fury had made a point of accusing you of changing the narrative by releasing multiple promos... is that what you were doing?

Solace: That was a storm... brewing... it was Godzilla charging up atomic breath... that was a warm-up... Miss Fury, of course, knows she has a problem or she wouldn't keep complimenting my skills in the same breath as insulting my style. She knows I smell blood in the water... and all her empty rhetoric has accomplished is piquing my appetite. She relies on corruption and cheating and changing the rules to win... I think she is starting to realize i'm not someone she can read, write, or delete... and that's the narrative. I'm a water-mark, she's a water-color. I'm here to stay... and she's dissolving the closer we get to March Madness.

Steve: Okay, moving on. The favorite going into this tournament hasn't been you... in fact, it seems, for the most part, the other seven competitors have been sleeping on Solace Tatum. How do you interpret that?

Solace: Betsy was the only one who hasn't underestimated me... even going as far as to extend her hand in friendship. With that said, I have great respect for her and there's no doubt that she's an up-and-comer. That makes me... the up-and-comer-second-runner-up. Defeating her would make me the up and comer. I would probably have the right to claim a shot at the Shooting Star championship... who knows where that win would take me? March Madness is one thing, beating Betsy Granger would be everything. With a goal like that... I think it's obvious that respect has nothing to do with this. We both know if it's her and I in that ring... i'm going for her neck. I'll take her on a magic carpet ride so she can see all the places she wants to see before she reaches her final destination... March Madness. I will have your back, Betsy... but at March Madness, i'm going to derail the Betsy-Train.

Steve: Do you trust Betsy Granger?

Solace: I don't really trust anyone... but, in time, I think Betsy and myself will have each other's backs. I did like that moniker she mentioned, "Sensational Solace Tatum" which might be a good one for down the road.

Steve: While Betsy has made nice with you, others in her immediate circle have taken the opposite approach. Shawn Warstein has called Anarchy a show for the weak. Do you agree?

Solace: I think Shawn is so into his own self that you can't really take anything he says to heart. I truly think he's speaking out of turn, but, he has the influence and connections to call himself a legend... I don't agree but I also don't take it personally.

Steve: Do you take being called a sheep and follower personally? He claims you're the perfect candidate to join the left hand, making you weak and unfit for the crown of XWF queen... he asks what you've done and who you've beaten... but then goes on to say you are talented and can get the job done...

Solace: And then that "you can find a Solace Tatum anywhere." He has about the same lack of focus as Miss Fury does. Clearly, judging from everything he's said about me in one chunk like that really solidifies just what I was saying before... he doesn't research, he doesn't pay attention, he doesn't have enough respect for anyone to actually do his homework because he only has enough time in a day to cater to his girlfriend's appeasement.

Steve: Are you a sheep, Solace?

Solace: Sheep? Me? Shawn calls me a sheep? The guy who follows James Raven with the tip of his nose where the sun doesn't shine half the time... the other half, it's in Atara's ass? You're projecting, Shawn... and if anyone does anything with their left hand... it's him. Not to join the cult, but to feed Atara grapes as she bathes his stench off of her body. Shawn, stay in your lane, pal... you never took the time to study me... but I took the time to study you, not that you have to worry about it.

Steve: Now, as mentioned, there's a favorite in this tournament, and it's a person who has mentioned you barely at all... Doctor Louise De'ville. You say you are underestimated and that Betsy could see your potential... even Miss Fury made sure to compliment your talents, as well as Shawn Warstein... but in the end, each have dismissed your ability... Is Doc De'ville dismissing Solace Tatum... or is he hoping you underestimate him?

Solace: I wouldn't sit here and pretend to read Doc's, or anyone else's, mind. All I know is... he called me a piece of scrap that got lost and mixed up in this tournament which tells me he is being dismissive... but I think that he and I share a common enjoyment in life and that is the climb rather than reaching the mountain top. Hey, maybe i'm wrong and Doc wants to sit by himself at the top of the peak, but to get there, he has to overcome Solace Tatum. If he underestimates me it would be like climbing a mountain to reach the top only to realize it's a volcano about the erupt. A doctor who misreads the symptoms is committing malpractice. But his field isn't my specialty, I'm a surgeon and that ring is my operating table. I'm going to open him up and dissect him. I'm sure you'll say some dark shit to me. I've read Edgar Allen Poe. I've seen Sweeney Todd. I like what you do, the way you make Shawn Warstein pray to a different God every night before he goes to bed. After he drinks his milk and puts on his dinosaur onesies then crawls into a sarcophagus near Atara's feet. Doc doesn't think I belong here? Is that his diagnosis? Not only do I belong here, but I damn sure didn't spend a week sucking up to that creepy old asshole. I thought he was a mastermind but now? Pshh. All these people treat him like king shit, but he's not. Not yet.. not until you face me. And since you spent 2 promos pretending I didn't exist... and a third to dismiss me... and a fourth to patronize me... Can't wait, buddy. Better show up.

Steve: That concludes today's interview. Thank you, Solace, and Good luck this Sunday!

Solace: Thank you, Steve.

Steve opens his arms for a hug but she walks past him.

[Image: LDzv7ym.png]
]]> <![CDATA[The Nostalgia Trip Continues: RP #2]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40279 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 22:50:40 -0700 Diesel]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40279 We rejoin our heroes as they exit Titan Towers. Diesel looks toward the crushed Lincoln belonging to Vince McMahon only to realize the other Diesel is no longer on the car and is roaming somewhere loose.

”Oh no,” Diesel says as he looks at the Lincoln.

”What?” TK asks and Diesel points to the car with no dead Diesel atop. ”Where’d that dickhead go!?”

Diesel and Thunder Knuckles scan the parking lot quickly, looking for any sign of other Diesel. Off in the distance, beneath a street lamp, other Diesel is spotted standing on top of our Diesel’s Western Star big rig dumping a barrel full of unused Milton Bradley’s Karate Fighters into the hopper.

”Catch me if you can, bitches!”

Other Diesel shouts as he climbs down off the top of the rig and into the cab. Our Diesel and TK begin to run toward him, but they’re just too far away. Other Diesel fires up the 18 wheeler and begins rolling forward. He steers the massive machine around the parking lot and right toward our Diesel and Thunder Knuckles. The two are forced to leap out of the way in opposite directions as other Diesel plows through the back end of McMahon’s crushed Lincoln as the horn intensifies.

Our Diesel and TK get back to their feet and watch as other Diesel races the big rig out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

”Hey Vince!” Diesel calls up toward the busted out window in McMahon’s office. Moments later, Vince appears at the edge. ”We have a problem.”

”There can be no problems, Diesel!” he calls out.

”Other Diesel wasn’t dead and he stole my truck!”

”Yeah dickhead! What you gonna do about that!?”

McMahon stands in the void of the window and ponders a moment.

”You’ll have to take SEX then!” he calls down from his office. Diesel and TK look at each other.

”With you!?” TK calls up to the window.

”What!?”

”What!?”

”Like fucking hell I will,” TK says to Diesel.

”No… No I don’t think we will!” Diesel agrees with TK.

”I’m not having sex with men Vince!” TK yells up.

”SEX is an acronym. Sunny Ends Xtreme!” Vince calls out from the window. ”Also its a car!” McMahon calls out, pointing toward the corner of the lot. TK and Diesel look out to where he’s pointing.

[Image: ByVwe8d.png]


”Fuck yeah,” TK mutters under his breath as he and Diesel hightail it across the lot toward the car. Knuckles hops into the drivers seat and Diesel tries and fails to tear the passenger seat out of the car. ”What the hell are you doing? Just get in!”

”I can’t fit!”

TK watches on as Diesel continues to fail at ripping the seat out.

”There’s no time, dickhead!”

”Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees and climbs into the car, sitting down with his ass on the headrest and his body extended out of the t-tops. Thunder Knuckles fires the engine.

”Welcome, Thunder Knuckles,” says the car and TK’s eyes grow wide.

”Holy shit it’s Mr. Feeney,” he says in disbelief.

”I have adaptive intelligence, Mr. Knuckles,” Mr. Feeney informs him. ”I’m programmed to know precisely who you are as soon as you sit down.”

”TK if you don’t mind setting your teenage nostalgia aside and hit the damn gas pedal,” Diesel reminds him.

”Right, fucker,” TK says as he throws the car in first gear and smashes the gas pedal. The car spins tire before lurching forward. They slow to a stop outside Vince’s office window.

”Hey Vince!”

”What!?”

”Bye!”

”Don’t! Press! The Pink! Button!”

”What the fuck did he say?”

”I ‘unno.”

TK smashes the gas pedal and proceeds toward the exit of the parking lot. Nearing the road, Diesel smashes his head off the clearance bar and topples out of the car to the pavement.

”Ouch!”

”Ahhhhhh,” TK says as he stops and put the car in reverse. ”Fucking shit.” TK stops the car and Diesel climbs back in the car.

”Onward, Mr. Feeney!”

”At once, Mr. Diesel,” Mr. Feeney says and the car lurches forward at breakneck speed. Our antiheroes are just along for the ride.


Three Days Later… Somewhere near Kingman, Arizona… 2021


”How the fuck did we lose him?” TK asks of Diesel, his face entirely chapped from three days of 90 mile per hour winds hitting him in the face and covered in Vaseline as a result.

”Son of a bitch is using all my time fuel with all his time jumping! He doesn’t even do it all cool like with the horn like I do!”

TK pulls the prototype Trans Am off the side of the road and slams his fists against the steering wheel.

”That hurt, Mr. Knuckles,” Feeney says.

”Sorry Mr. Feeney,” TK replies before realizing he just apologized to a computer.

”Did you hear that?” Diesel asks of TK.

”Hear what?”

”Listen...”

...and the thunder rolls. A few hundred feet behind them, Other Diesel splits the time continuum and re-enters 2021.

”Fuck yeah!” TK shouts with increased excitement as he fires the engine. Other Diesel races by them and TK pulls onto the highway. ”Mr. Feeney, engage hyperdrive!”

”Hyperdrive engaged, Mr. Knuckles,” Feeney replies



At speeds too great to fathom, the black Trans Am races to catch up to Other Diesel. Hot on his tail, Diesel steps over the windshield and onto the hood.

”Don’t dent my hood fat ass!”

Almost bumper to bumper, Diesel leaps from the hood of the car to the loading ramp of the trailer… but just stays there for a few minutes.

”What the fuck are you doing dumbass!?”

”I don’t really know, I didn’t think that far ahead!” Diesel calls out.

”Get back in the fucking car!”

Diesel jumps off the trailer and back onto the car before stepping over the windshield and sitting on the headrest again. Up ahead, a police car has a Lincoln pulled over.

”Hey I think those two fCENSOREDs you hate are pulled over,” Diesel says as they continue screaming forward.

”Really?” TK looks to his right at Thad and Corey pulled over on the side of the highway. ”Enjoying the show, fuckers!?” TK shouts out of the car as they pass by.

”I don’t think they heard you.”

”Fuck ‘em, who cares?”

”TK… ummmm.”

”What the fuck is it dumbass?”

”That cop is after us now.”



”FUCK!”

Our antiheroes cross the state line into Nevada. With the highway splitting into multiple lanes, TK drives the Trans Am alongside the passenger side of Diesel’s big rig.

”Now jump in there and get your truck back asshole!”

”What about the cop?”

Diesel starts to climb out of the car again but hits the pink button. TK’s seat is reclined backward by force and the dashboard is raised. WWF Diva Sunny steps out of the dashboard as TK almost loses control of the car. Sunny kneels on the floor and starts undoing TK’s pants.

”Hi Sunny,” Diesel says with a friendly wave from the hood of the car.

”Hey Big Daddy,” Sunny says with a friendly wave of her own.

”TK what’s she doing?”

”Who the fuck cares dumbass, just let her do it!”

Diesel one hops it from the car to the truck and swings the door open, climbing inside. Other Diesel nearly loses control of the Western Star big rig as they struggle for the controls. Meanwhile, inside the Trans Am, Sunny is hard at work and TK is now sporting a black 70’s mustache and wearing a cowboy hat.

This narrator learned to not to ask questions.

One of the Diesel’s, we assume our Diesel, climbs out of the passenger side of the truck toward the roof.

”What the hell are you doing?”

”I have a plan!”

”That sounds like a terrible idea!”

Diesel hops from the truck to the trailer and hurries down toward the loading ramp.

”Get behind the truck!”

With Sunny now done doing her business… it was quick but she’s really good at her job… she now sits in the passenger seat as TK slows up to fall behind the speeding truck. On top of the trailer, Diesel unlocks the loading ramp and it falls to the pavement, shooting sparks as it drags along the highway.



Nooowwww this narrator gets it.

Diesel hightails it toward the front of the truck and climbs down the driver side. He throws a stiff elbow.

”Elbow strike!”

The elbow knocks Other Diesel unconscious. Diesel swings the door open as the truck sways back and forth violently. He shoves Other Diesel inside the truck and climbs into the drivers seat. With the police hot on Thunder Knuckles backside, Diesel corrects the course of the truck and TK drives the car right up into the trailer.

After hopping from the car, Thunder Knuckles scales the trailer and makes his way to the front of the truck before climbing into the passenger side.

”Now what dumbass?”

”First of all, tie up that Other Diesel.”

”Why not kill him?”

”He might come in handy in some other promo.”

”This is great and all, but those fuckin pigs are still after us.”

”Not to worry, TK. Big Daddy got this!”

With a roll of thunder and a horn intensifies, Diesel’s Western Star enters the time continuum. The gaggle of police chasing after them. All three of them, come to a stop in the middle of the highway where Diesel’s truck was last seen. Seconds later, another roll of thunder and another horn intensifies and Diesel and Thunder Knuckles with that sweet ass prototype Trans Am and 1995 Sunny AND Other Diesel re-enter 2021 behind the police.

”WHAT THE FUCK!?”

”It’s B.o.B. Bowling Night TK, and I’m bowling 300!” he replies as he barrels through the sitting police cars.

”Ha HAAAAAAAA!” TK in his mustache and cowboy hat emits a Burt Reynolds laugh, shocking even himself. ”What the FUCK!?”

Our Diesel and the all the rest head into Las Vegas.


Should we talk about how fucking stupid and uninteresting Centurion is? Or should I just play that stupid fucking promo of his that proves he knows nothing of what he’s talking about? I’d choose the second option but the fact of the matter is real fucking simple: I choose entertainment over putting everyone to sleep. I choose good over evil and believe me when I tell you, Centurions dullness is evil torture in its purest fucking form.

Pull up a chair Centurion. Pull it up real close like so you can see the storm that’s coming for you tomorrow night at March Madness.

Soma’s.

Yep, I like ‘em.

Nope, I don’t do them anymore.

Hotels.

No concierge in Sin City is gonna find where Diesel’s staying you stupid fucking dwarf because Diesel has a sleeper in his BIG FUCKING WESTERN STAR or did you somehow miss that in the other promos I’ve done for the XWF?

That’s right.

THE EX DOUBLE-U EFF!

Or did you miss the fact that I’m fully aware of where I am, who I am, what I am, and what year it is? Covered it, but you’d have to pay at least a little attention.

Quads.

Here’s another lesson in not thinking you got this all sewn up, a lesson in not being a complete jackass. I now have bionic quads and they’re no longer are susceptible to tearing. Covered that in a previous promo for this Xtremely Weak Federation. You’d know that if you weren’t so… what’s the word?

Overconfident.

And we’re just touching the tip of your absolutely asinine game plan.

Not only did you try and rip of the Big Daddy Cool nostalgia trip, but you couldn’t even do that right. Not only am I more interesting and entertaining than you are Centurion, but my non playable character friends are more entertaining and interesting than your non playable friends. My co-star is more entertaining and interesting than your co-star. My drama is is more dramatic than yours. My humor is funnier than yours.

Hell, even my nostalgia is far more interesting and entertaining than yours.

You seriously sat in a bar wondering if B.o.B. will interfere on my behalf and who might do it? Does it matter? See, Centurion let me let you on a little secret. Grab a ladder and climb up so you can hear better.

Vanilla Midget.

I don’t care whether I win or lose here in the XWF. But imagine how bad it gets for you, if I decide to win. Think about what it might be like if Diesel decides… to give a shit. I want you to contemplate your course of action in these proceedings. I want you to take the next eighteen hours or so and really… really… think about what’s about to happen to you. Centurion, I’m coming to March Madness to embarrass you more than you already have all by yourself.

Elbow.

Elbow.

Elbow.

Knee.

Hairflip.

Big boot.

Side slam.

Jackknife.

1.

2.

3.

Diesel wins over an XWF legend.

Diesel wins over a legitimate XWF Hall of Legends member.

And Centurion realizes he bit off way more than he could possibly chew.

Step one in taking down the Xtreme Wrestling Federation for Vincent Kennedy McMahon? Making a mockery of one of their legends.]]> We rejoin our heroes as they exit Titan Towers. Diesel looks toward the crushed Lincoln belonging to Vince McMahon only to realize the other Diesel is no longer on the car and is roaming somewhere loose.

”Oh no,” Diesel says as he looks at the Lincoln.

”What?” TK asks and Diesel points to the car with no dead Diesel atop. ”Where’d that dickhead go!?”

Diesel and Thunder Knuckles scan the parking lot quickly, looking for any sign of other Diesel. Off in the distance, beneath a street lamp, other Diesel is spotted standing on top of our Diesel’s Western Star big rig dumping a barrel full of unused Milton Bradley’s Karate Fighters into the hopper.

”Catch me if you can, bitches!”

Other Diesel shouts as he climbs down off the top of the rig and into the cab. Our Diesel and TK begin to run toward him, but they’re just too far away. Other Diesel fires up the 18 wheeler and begins rolling forward. He steers the massive machine around the parking lot and right toward our Diesel and Thunder Knuckles. The two are forced to leap out of the way in opposite directions as other Diesel plows through the back end of McMahon’s crushed Lincoln as the horn intensifies.

Our Diesel and TK get back to their feet and watch as other Diesel races the big rig out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

”Hey Vince!” Diesel calls up toward the busted out window in McMahon’s office. Moments later, Vince appears at the edge. ”We have a problem.”

”There can be no problems, Diesel!” he calls out.

”Other Diesel wasn’t dead and he stole my truck!”

”Yeah dickhead! What you gonna do about that!?”

McMahon stands in the void of the window and ponders a moment.

”You’ll have to take SEX then!” he calls down from his office. Diesel and TK look at each other.

”With you!?” TK calls up to the window.

”What!?”

”What!?”

”Like fucking hell I will,” TK says to Diesel.

”No… No I don’t think we will!” Diesel agrees with TK.

”I’m not having sex with men Vince!” TK yells up.

”SEX is an acronym. Sunny Ends Xtreme!” Vince calls out from the window. ”Also its a car!” McMahon calls out, pointing toward the corner of the lot. TK and Diesel look out to where he’s pointing.

[Image: ByVwe8d.png]


”Fuck yeah,” TK mutters under his breath as he and Diesel hightail it across the lot toward the car. Knuckles hops into the drivers seat and Diesel tries and fails to tear the passenger seat out of the car. ”What the hell are you doing? Just get in!”

”I can’t fit!”

TK watches on as Diesel continues to fail at ripping the seat out.

”There’s no time, dickhead!”

”Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees and climbs into the car, sitting down with his ass on the headrest and his body extended out of the t-tops. Thunder Knuckles fires the engine.

”Welcome, Thunder Knuckles,” says the car and TK’s eyes grow wide.

”Holy shit it’s Mr. Feeney,” he says in disbelief.

”I have adaptive intelligence, Mr. Knuckles,” Mr. Feeney informs him. ”I’m programmed to know precisely who you are as soon as you sit down.”

”TK if you don’t mind setting your teenage nostalgia aside and hit the damn gas pedal,” Diesel reminds him.

”Right, fucker,” TK says as he throws the car in first gear and smashes the gas pedal. The car spins tire before lurching forward. They slow to a stop outside Vince’s office window.

”Hey Vince!”

”What!?”

”Bye!”

”Don’t! Press! The Pink! Button!”

”What the fuck did he say?”

”I ‘unno.”

TK smashes the gas pedal and proceeds toward the exit of the parking lot. Nearing the road, Diesel smashes his head off the clearance bar and topples out of the car to the pavement.

”Ouch!”

”Ahhhhhh,” TK says as he stops and put the car in reverse. ”Fucking shit.” TK stops the car and Diesel climbs back in the car.

”Onward, Mr. Feeney!”

”At once, Mr. Diesel,” Mr. Feeney says and the car lurches forward at breakneck speed. Our antiheroes are just along for the ride.


Three Days Later… Somewhere near Kingman, Arizona… 2021


”How the fuck did we lose him?” TK asks of Diesel, his face entirely chapped from three days of 90 mile per hour winds hitting him in the face and covered in Vaseline as a result.

”Son of a bitch is using all my time fuel with all his time jumping! He doesn’t even do it all cool like with the horn like I do!”

TK pulls the prototype Trans Am off the side of the road and slams his fists against the steering wheel.

”That hurt, Mr. Knuckles,” Feeney says.

”Sorry Mr. Feeney,” TK replies before realizing he just apologized to a computer.

”Did you hear that?” Diesel asks of TK.

”Hear what?”

”Listen...”

...and the thunder rolls. A few hundred feet behind them, Other Diesel splits the time continuum and re-enters 2021.

”Fuck yeah!” TK shouts with increased excitement as he fires the engine. Other Diesel races by them and TK pulls onto the highway. ”Mr. Feeney, engage hyperdrive!”

”Hyperdrive engaged, Mr. Knuckles,” Feeney replies



At speeds too great to fathom, the black Trans Am races to catch up to Other Diesel. Hot on his tail, Diesel steps over the windshield and onto the hood.

”Don’t dent my hood fat ass!”

Almost bumper to bumper, Diesel leaps from the hood of the car to the loading ramp of the trailer… but just stays there for a few minutes.

”What the fuck are you doing dumbass!?”

”I don’t really know, I didn’t think that far ahead!” Diesel calls out.

”Get back in the fucking car!”

Diesel jumps off the trailer and back onto the car before stepping over the windshield and sitting on the headrest again. Up ahead, a police car has a Lincoln pulled over.

”Hey I think those two fCENSOREDs you hate are pulled over,” Diesel says as they continue screaming forward.

”Really?” TK looks to his right at Thad and Corey pulled over on the side of the highway. ”Enjoying the show, fuckers!?” TK shouts out of the car as they pass by.

”I don’t think they heard you.”

”Fuck ‘em, who cares?”

”TK… ummmm.”

”What the fuck is it dumbass?”

”That cop is after us now.”



”FUCK!”

Our antiheroes cross the state line into Nevada. With the highway splitting into multiple lanes, TK drives the Trans Am alongside the passenger side of Diesel’s big rig.

”Now jump in there and get your truck back asshole!”

”What about the cop?”

Diesel starts to climb out of the car again but hits the pink button. TK’s seat is reclined backward by force and the dashboard is raised. WWF Diva Sunny steps out of the dashboard as TK almost loses control of the car. Sunny kneels on the floor and starts undoing TK’s pants.

”Hi Sunny,” Diesel says with a friendly wave from the hood of the car.

”Hey Big Daddy,” Sunny says with a friendly wave of her own.

”TK what’s she doing?”

”Who the fuck cares dumbass, just let her do it!”

Diesel one hops it from the car to the truck and swings the door open, climbing inside. Other Diesel nearly loses control of the Western Star big rig as they struggle for the controls. Meanwhile, inside the Trans Am, Sunny is hard at work and TK is now sporting a black 70’s mustache and wearing a cowboy hat.

This narrator learned to not to ask questions.

One of the Diesel’s, we assume our Diesel, climbs out of the passenger side of the truck toward the roof.

”What the hell are you doing?”

”I have a plan!”

”That sounds like a terrible idea!”

Diesel hops from the truck to the trailer and hurries down toward the loading ramp.

”Get behind the truck!”

With Sunny now done doing her business… it was quick but she’s really good at her job… she now sits in the passenger seat as TK slows up to fall behind the speeding truck. On top of the trailer, Diesel unlocks the loading ramp and it falls to the pavement, shooting sparks as it drags along the highway.



Nooowwww this narrator gets it.

Diesel hightails it toward the front of the truck and climbs down the driver side. He throws a stiff elbow.

”Elbow strike!”

The elbow knocks Other Diesel unconscious. Diesel swings the door open as the truck sways back and forth violently. He shoves Other Diesel inside the truck and climbs into the drivers seat. With the police hot on Thunder Knuckles backside, Diesel corrects the course of the truck and TK drives the car right up into the trailer.

After hopping from the car, Thunder Knuckles scales the trailer and makes his way to the front of the truck before climbing into the passenger side.

”Now what dumbass?”

”First of all, tie up that Other Diesel.”

”Why not kill him?”

”He might come in handy in some other promo.”

”This is great and all, but those fuckin pigs are still after us.”

”Not to worry, TK. Big Daddy got this!”

With a roll of thunder and a horn intensifies, Diesel’s Western Star enters the time continuum. The gaggle of police chasing after them. All three of them, come to a stop in the middle of the highway where Diesel’s truck was last seen. Seconds later, another roll of thunder and another horn intensifies and Diesel and Thunder Knuckles with that sweet ass prototype Trans Am and 1995 Sunny AND Other Diesel re-enter 2021 behind the police.

”WHAT THE FUCK!?”

”It’s B.o.B. Bowling Night TK, and I’m bowling 300!” he replies as he barrels through the sitting police cars.

”Ha HAAAAAAAA!” TK in his mustache and cowboy hat emits a Burt Reynolds laugh, shocking even himself. ”What the FUCK!?”

Our Diesel and the all the rest head into Las Vegas.


Should we talk about how fucking stupid and uninteresting Centurion is? Or should I just play that stupid fucking promo of his that proves he knows nothing of what he’s talking about? I’d choose the second option but the fact of the matter is real fucking simple: I choose entertainment over putting everyone to sleep. I choose good over evil and believe me when I tell you, Centurions dullness is evil torture in its purest fucking form.

Pull up a chair Centurion. Pull it up real close like so you can see the storm that’s coming for you tomorrow night at March Madness.

Soma’s.

Yep, I like ‘em.

Nope, I don’t do them anymore.

Hotels.

No concierge in Sin City is gonna find where Diesel’s staying you stupid fucking dwarf because Diesel has a sleeper in his BIG FUCKING WESTERN STAR or did you somehow miss that in the other promos I’ve done for the XWF?

That’s right.

THE EX DOUBLE-U EFF!

Or did you miss the fact that I’m fully aware of where I am, who I am, what I am, and what year it is? Covered it, but you’d have to pay at least a little attention.

Quads.

Here’s another lesson in not thinking you got this all sewn up, a lesson in not being a complete jackass. I now have bionic quads and they’re no longer are susceptible to tearing. Covered that in a previous promo for this Xtremely Weak Federation. You’d know that if you weren’t so… what’s the word?

Overconfident.

And we’re just touching the tip of your absolutely asinine game plan.

Not only did you try and rip of the Big Daddy Cool nostalgia trip, but you couldn’t even do that right. Not only am I more interesting and entertaining than you are Centurion, but my non playable character friends are more entertaining and interesting than your non playable friends. My co-star is more entertaining and interesting than your co-star. My drama is is more dramatic than yours. My humor is funnier than yours.

Hell, even my nostalgia is far more interesting and entertaining than yours.

You seriously sat in a bar wondering if B.o.B. will interfere on my behalf and who might do it? Does it matter? See, Centurion let me let you on a little secret. Grab a ladder and climb up so you can hear better.

Vanilla Midget.

I don’t care whether I win or lose here in the XWF. But imagine how bad it gets for you, if I decide to win. Think about what it might be like if Diesel decides… to give a shit. I want you to contemplate your course of action in these proceedings. I want you to take the next eighteen hours or so and really… really… think about what’s about to happen to you. Centurion, I’m coming to March Madness to embarrass you more than you already have all by yourself.

Elbow.

Elbow.

Elbow.

Knee.

Hairflip.

Big boot.

Side slam.

Jackknife.

1.

2.

3.

Diesel wins over an XWF legend.

Diesel wins over a legitimate XWF Hall of Legends member.

And Centurion realizes he bit off way more than he could possibly chew.

Step one in taking down the Xtreme Wrestling Federation for Vincent Kennedy McMahon? Making a mockery of one of their legends.]]> <![CDATA[When The End Collapses]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40276 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 22:45:09 -0700 Mr. Oz]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40276
The sky is dark, but full of lights close to the ground, as bullets fly across the battlefield, explosions from tank fire blasting all around. The sounds of airplanes dogfighting in the air as yells of battle orders, battle cries and pained screams fill the spaces of air between everything else happening. The sigils and markings on the soldiers on one half are the signs of a single person: Oswald Autem Sephtis. The other had no obvious signs of who they backed, it looked like a mish-mash of militaries, from several countries. Some looked Chinese, some looked British, some looked Russian.

Soon, the stars and the lights of aircraft seemed to be blacked out, until a mortar shell flew by and exploded, revealing the face and body of Oswald, but he was trailing what seemed like the void itself, as it enveloped the light almost instantaneously and he slowly fell to the ground. This seemed to be the best chance it seemed, for the opposing army, as they began to open fire upon him, only for the bullets to seemingly get absorbed by his body and the shroud following him.

As he touched the ground, he made a show of falling to his knees, before the void fell on top of him and the ground. It was so massive it seemed like entire football length to his right and his left. It even enveloped him as it collapsed. Animalistic snorts sounded, galloping, both armies weren't moving, but the sounds didn't come from them. Instead, it came from his shroud. The sounds grew louder and louder, while dogfighting continued in the air, these were the sounds that can only be called the screams of the damned, as they grew louder and louder, causing both sides to grasp their ears, and soon, as if being born from blackened ooze, hundreds of thousands of ghoulish specters of battles past as well as horse-riders with their horses, climbed out of the void, and both sides saw the undead visages of the past, exhaling the inkiness of his shroud. Soon, the sight of Oswald slowly standing, immediately caused the enemy to open fire once more, as the army of the dead charged, without fear, without pain, with the army at his back following after, taking advantage of this distraction, opening fire on their enemy.

That's when he came. Appearing in a puff of blood and cum covered confetti and the sound of a honk, was Phantom Panzer.

"How ya doin', pops?! Lookin' more voidy than you used to! How's the old dick? Still working after you decided to consume the Seven Deities powers entirely? If it's still workin', what are the stiffies like? Gotta feel like some kind of drug."

"All of them."

"What?"

"You were gonna ask 'which drug though is the question.' so I pre-emptively answered. All of them."

Panzer chuckled as he popped a party popper. Where'd that come from? Don't ask.

"Nice job. So, I'm gonna need you to stop doing this."

"Stop doing what?"

"This. All of this. You realize what you're doing, right? You're not supposed to have these powers. At all. Nor does the base version of you. You can see the alternate you, you can see what this is all about. I can even see my commandeered camera from your base self. So, it's time to end this little thing of yours and you can go back to whatever it was you were before in this reality. Y'know, a nobody."

He snickered before throwing a punch, expecting to lay Oswald out. Oswald's face didn't even get budged. Instead, he scowled at Phantom Panzer, the Clwon God and Protector of all Space and Time was somewhat phased.

"Huh. Guess I'll have to use a bi-"

He immediately got punched and sent flying across ground.

"Well alright then! As I was saying before, time to use more force!"

The two flew at each other, causing a massive explosion of force as they collided. Their punches faster than foe or ally could follow. Hitting hard enough that they forced the air pressure to get heavier, making those around them start to feel worse, except the undead, of course. This gave them instead an upper hand and began to cull the forces of man. It wasn't for another minute did Panzer remember that this was happening and looked at Oswald.

"Ozzy, bubeleh, I have a joke for you before we continue on. I don't care if you're ready or not. Here it is. There was once a Mexican magician at a kids party. He was getting ready for his final act. So, he said to the gathered children 'Boys and girls, for my final trick, I will disappear on the count of three!' So the magician tapped his hat, and pulled out what seemed to be enough cloth to be a curtain. 'Uno!' he says as he tosses the cloth over a bar he had prepared earlier in the day. He stepped behind the curtain 'DOS!' The kids were now very pumped up, to see the trick happen, but when the parents went to look for the magician, they ended up revealing that the magician had made himself disappear without a trace."

He snapped his fingers and soon the army of the dead to be bathed in light before disappearing before the very eyes of all onlookers. This, however, pissed Oswald off. He began to punch harder, faster, throwing in knees into the gut as well, causing Panzer to cough up sparkling and glitter covered blood.

"Sorry, ate your mom out on her period after her shift as a stripper. Gotta get them red wings for my badge as a Boy Scout somehow, y'know?"

Oswald continued to thrust knees into PP's stomach before preparing to punch him, balling up his fist as Panzer coughs a couple more times, words coming out raspy

"That's a... pretty big fist... Watch out or you'll likely hurt someone with it."

Oswald then slams the fist into Panzer, making him cough up more blood before throwing him hard into the ground.. He then grumbled as he summoned forth the shroud once more which flew across the field, and yet another horde of undead rushed at the forces of Man. However, once he looked over towards where PP was, only to see the clown was gone, most likely recovering from his wounds. It did not matter much to Oswald, as the undead continued to slaughter every man and woman who came to the fight.

He scoffed a bit, knowing their war wasn't over, but the battle for the supremacy of Earth was all but sealed. He shall consume and destroy that which he feels does not fall in line with his ideals.

For all will be assimilated, or be forced to serve, in death.



A visibly shaken Oswald shuddered at the possibility coming from a different reality. So much power, but was it worth it to have PP on his ass? It seemed like he handled the Clown God of Righteousness really well, but that bastard more than likely knew how it all ended. It was inevitable for that Oswald to lose if he abused his powers in such a way. It would require a different approach, however, when accumulating souls.He stroked his beard before seeing his camera, smirking a bit before responding to Solace in particular.

"So, Solace. You wanted to fight me again. You wanted to go up against the God of the Brotherhood of Baddies. The man backing each and every endeavor they wish to perform. The creature that can snuff out their lights if they decide to do take this group from me. What hope do you have against me? What in the fuck do you think you're going to do? You think I'm going to allow some fucking poor touch my belt? I'd rather soon fucking cut off my own arm than allow you to have my title. I will make your record worse and dip down deeper than you've ever been. Lower than you giving a blowjob to your edgy high school boyfriend in a freshly dug grave in a cemetery because you wanted to be 'cool'. However, once you become part of B. O. B. however, that's where you'll shine. Ask all of them. The moment they join B. O. B. their lives become much better. There's a reason why I lead them. There's a reason why Fury is my left hand. She takes orders, she's tenacious, and she will take what she wants

You will be capable of being the same as her. You will become a God among these lower people. Hell, even if you win, the opportunity, the offer, of joining us will still be open. We are the future of the XWF. We are the people who know how to get shit done and how to win titles. Just ask Page. We sponsored him, we helped him. He became the great champion he is right now because of our hard work alongside him!

You can say whatever you want to say, whatever you do, you will never match up to my legacy. To the ones from my stable. You owe it to yourself to join us. Otherwise you'll keep taking L's in your career. It will come from us in droves, beating you, battering you down until your very soul is too weak to continue and BEGS for us to help you. To grab you by the hand and bring you into the fold, to nurture you, treat you, and give you everything needed for you to become the Goddess you should be. Only lowering yourself to beat them into shape, before you rise above them.

This title of mine, will never leave me. I will rule as the Billion Dollar Champion and you will simply become the 13 dollar champion. Because that's all I value your worth at right this second. Probably what you price your own ass at anyway when you're walking the streets.

Yeah, I'm calling you sex worker, and it's a legitimate profession, good on you to make that money, but maybe if you washed your pussy more, the smell wouldn't be so fuckin' unbearable. I'm gonna have to wear those nose clips that swimmers use in order to deal with you. If you have a yeast infection, you're legally required to tell people before they perform any maneuver dealing with your ham wallet near their face. Like a scoop slam, for instance. Hope you're being treated already.

In any case, let me go back to my original feelings on this match, shall we?

I will win. You will lose. Not just the match, but your own agency. You will be part of B. O. B. and you will do as I say, understand me?

Good. You better.

See you at March Madness.

Oh, Fury, I'll try to not hurt her too badly for your match. Wouldn't want you to not have any fun, do we?"]]>
The sky is dark, but full of lights close to the ground, as bullets fly across the battlefield, explosions from tank fire blasting all around. The sounds of airplanes dogfighting in the air as yells of battle orders, battle cries and pained screams fill the spaces of air between everything else happening. The sigils and markings on the soldiers on one half are the signs of a single person: Oswald Autem Sephtis. The other had no obvious signs of who they backed, it looked like a mish-mash of militaries, from several countries. Some looked Chinese, some looked British, some looked Russian.

Soon, the stars and the lights of aircraft seemed to be blacked out, until a mortar shell flew by and exploded, revealing the face and body of Oswald, but he was trailing what seemed like the void itself, as it enveloped the light almost instantaneously and he slowly fell to the ground. This seemed to be the best chance it seemed, for the opposing army, as they began to open fire upon him, only for the bullets to seemingly get absorbed by his body and the shroud following him.

As he touched the ground, he made a show of falling to his knees, before the void fell on top of him and the ground. It was so massive it seemed like entire football length to his right and his left. It even enveloped him as it collapsed. Animalistic snorts sounded, galloping, both armies weren't moving, but the sounds didn't come from them. Instead, it came from his shroud. The sounds grew louder and louder, while dogfighting continued in the air, these were the sounds that can only be called the screams of the damned, as they grew louder and louder, causing both sides to grasp their ears, and soon, as if being born from blackened ooze, hundreds of thousands of ghoulish specters of battles past as well as horse-riders with their horses, climbed out of the void, and both sides saw the undead visages of the past, exhaling the inkiness of his shroud. Soon, the sight of Oswald slowly standing, immediately caused the enemy to open fire once more, as the army of the dead charged, without fear, without pain, with the army at his back following after, taking advantage of this distraction, opening fire on their enemy.

That's when he came. Appearing in a puff of blood and cum covered confetti and the sound of a honk, was Phantom Panzer.

"How ya doin', pops?! Lookin' more voidy than you used to! How's the old dick? Still working after you decided to consume the Seven Deities powers entirely? If it's still workin', what are the stiffies like? Gotta feel like some kind of drug."

"All of them."

"What?"

"You were gonna ask 'which drug though is the question.' so I pre-emptively answered. All of them."

Panzer chuckled as he popped a party popper. Where'd that come from? Don't ask.

"Nice job. So, I'm gonna need you to stop doing this."

"Stop doing what?"

"This. All of this. You realize what you're doing, right? You're not supposed to have these powers. At all. Nor does the base version of you. You can see the alternate you, you can see what this is all about. I can even see my commandeered camera from your base self. So, it's time to end this little thing of yours and you can go back to whatever it was you were before in this reality. Y'know, a nobody."

He snickered before throwing a punch, expecting to lay Oswald out. Oswald's face didn't even get budged. Instead, he scowled at Phantom Panzer, the Clwon God and Protector of all Space and Time was somewhat phased.

"Huh. Guess I'll have to use a bi-"

He immediately got punched and sent flying across ground.

"Well alright then! As I was saying before, time to use more force!"

The two flew at each other, causing a massive explosion of force as they collided. Their punches faster than foe or ally could follow. Hitting hard enough that they forced the air pressure to get heavier, making those around them start to feel worse, except the undead, of course. This gave them instead an upper hand and began to cull the forces of man. It wasn't for another minute did Panzer remember that this was happening and looked at Oswald.

"Ozzy, bubeleh, I have a joke for you before we continue on. I don't care if you're ready or not. Here it is. There was once a Mexican magician at a kids party. He was getting ready for his final act. So, he said to the gathered children 'Boys and girls, for my final trick, I will disappear on the count of three!' So the magician tapped his hat, and pulled out what seemed to be enough cloth to be a curtain. 'Uno!' he says as he tosses the cloth over a bar he had prepared earlier in the day. He stepped behind the curtain 'DOS!' The kids were now very pumped up, to see the trick happen, but when the parents went to look for the magician, they ended up revealing that the magician had made himself disappear without a trace."

He snapped his fingers and soon the army of the dead to be bathed in light before disappearing before the very eyes of all onlookers. This, however, pissed Oswald off. He began to punch harder, faster, throwing in knees into the gut as well, causing Panzer to cough up sparkling and glitter covered blood.

"Sorry, ate your mom out on her period after her shift as a stripper. Gotta get them red wings for my badge as a Boy Scout somehow, y'know?"

Oswald continued to thrust knees into PP's stomach before preparing to punch him, balling up his fist as Panzer coughs a couple more times, words coming out raspy

"That's a... pretty big fist... Watch out or you'll likely hurt someone with it."

Oswald then slams the fist into Panzer, making him cough up more blood before throwing him hard into the ground.. He then grumbled as he summoned forth the shroud once more which flew across the field, and yet another horde of undead rushed at the forces of Man. However, once he looked over towards where PP was, only to see the clown was gone, most likely recovering from his wounds. It did not matter much to Oswald, as the undead continued to slaughter every man and woman who came to the fight.

He scoffed a bit, knowing their war wasn't over, but the battle for the supremacy of Earth was all but sealed. He shall consume and destroy that which he feels does not fall in line with his ideals.

For all will be assimilated, or be forced to serve, in death.



A visibly shaken Oswald shuddered at the possibility coming from a different reality. So much power, but was it worth it to have PP on his ass? It seemed like he handled the Clown God of Righteousness really well, but that bastard more than likely knew how it all ended. It was inevitable for that Oswald to lose if he abused his powers in such a way. It would require a different approach, however, when accumulating souls.He stroked his beard before seeing his camera, smirking a bit before responding to Solace in particular.

"So, Solace. You wanted to fight me again. You wanted to go up against the God of the Brotherhood of Baddies. The man backing each and every endeavor they wish to perform. The creature that can snuff out their lights if they decide to do take this group from me. What hope do you have against me? What in the fuck do you think you're going to do? You think I'm going to allow some fucking poor touch my belt? I'd rather soon fucking cut off my own arm than allow you to have my title. I will make your record worse and dip down deeper than you've ever been. Lower than you giving a blowjob to your edgy high school boyfriend in a freshly dug grave in a cemetery because you wanted to be 'cool'. However, once you become part of B. O. B. however, that's where you'll shine. Ask all of them. The moment they join B. O. B. their lives become much better. There's a reason why I lead them. There's a reason why Fury is my left hand. She takes orders, she's tenacious, and she will take what she wants

You will be capable of being the same as her. You will become a God among these lower people. Hell, even if you win, the opportunity, the offer, of joining us will still be open. We are the future of the XWF. We are the people who know how to get shit done and how to win titles. Just ask Page. We sponsored him, we helped him. He became the great champion he is right now because of our hard work alongside him!

You can say whatever you want to say, whatever you do, you will never match up to my legacy. To the ones from my stable. You owe it to yourself to join us. Otherwise you'll keep taking L's in your career. It will come from us in droves, beating you, battering you down until your very soul is too weak to continue and BEGS for us to help you. To grab you by the hand and bring you into the fold, to nurture you, treat you, and give you everything needed for you to become the Goddess you should be. Only lowering yourself to beat them into shape, before you rise above them.

This title of mine, will never leave me. I will rule as the Billion Dollar Champion and you will simply become the 13 dollar champion. Because that's all I value your worth at right this second. Probably what you price your own ass at anyway when you're walking the streets.

Yeah, I'm calling you sex worker, and it's a legitimate profession, good on you to make that money, but maybe if you washed your pussy more, the smell wouldn't be so fuckin' unbearable. I'm gonna have to wear those nose clips that swimmers use in order to deal with you. If you have a yeast infection, you're legally required to tell people before they perform any maneuver dealing with your ham wallet near their face. Like a scoop slam, for instance. Hope you're being treated already.

In any case, let me go back to my original feelings on this match, shall we?

I will win. You will lose. Not just the match, but your own agency. You will be part of B. O. B. and you will do as I say, understand me?

Good. You better.

See you at March Madness.

Oh, Fury, I'll try to not hurt her too badly for your match. Wouldn't want you to not have any fun, do we?"]]> <![CDATA[There Is Something Inside of Me]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40274 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 21:58:24 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40274

The Nefarious One sits behind a large wooden desk, a wide smile on his face. He cracks his knuckles before leaning back in his chair, propping his feet upon the desk.

"Y'know, I haven't felt like myself lately. It's true! There's just something about having to wait for some goody two-shoes to do his schtick while you're in the wings that'll make a guy…"

"Get a little restless. Like, imagine that you're in a car. A real nice one, we're talking one of those concept cars that never makes it to mass production. This baby can really do things! You start brainstorming about what one could achieve with this vehicle and tremble at the possibilities! And then they put you in the passenger's seat and get someone else to drive while you watch their every movement, wondering if they could ever possibly care about this car more than you. So, when they step on the gas and start driving like a grandma, it's a tad fucking infuriating! This baby should be ignoring intersections, leaving cops in the dust, breaking the goddamn sound barrier and the driver chooses to not take rights on reds! Once the opportunity arose, I did what any sensible person would do and I began to look for any way I could into the driver's seat and all of this is just the unfortunate struggle of pushing old Ned into the trunk. Funny thing about that, though."

"Ned thinks he's going to walk in there and win the battle royal in some sort of grand gesture. And, honestly, he might even be right."

"All things on the table, though, it's not like he's going up against The Brand or anything. Let's be blunt, we're not even talking Tony Santos level. I mean, it's a literal pile of people not good enough on their first tries and some randos who want a lucky break just in case they can disguise themselves as a ref and half-ass their way to getting destroyed later in the night. I'm looking at you, Mr. Dixon! No, I don't give a fuck who trained you. I care more about learning the names of trainers who neglect to teach their dog shake than whatever 40 year old frozen food salesman endorsed your contract. Everyone's lining to pat that sore spot Corey left on your back because "even though you lost, you still looked really good!" Good news for you, I feel charitable enough that if I do get my hands on you that night, you'll look even better losing to me."

"Speaking of losing, Champ Sportsman! You seriously thought coming to another battle royal when the last one you did here shook you off like a bad habit? You are outmatched and that is saying something considering you're in the B-list free-for-all. I know you've been very fixated on lists lately, so I'll just let you know that you're number one on one list and that's people who aren't getting their contracts renewed. Now, instead of wrestling, why don't you go practice your true calling and pass water bottles out to varsity football players."

“But let’s say that somehow Ned makes it past the Second Rate Battle Royal. Hell, maybe they’ll be just enough of him left to keep nagging during the Hart Title match. But once that final match comes along? Well, you’re gonna have to deal with me. So, the following few should hope and pray that Ned doesn’t put me right where I want to be. Because you’re going to have a very crestfallen night if so.”

“Doc! Lots of great things going around about you! I mean, you’ve got such a new twist, right? No? Oh, then you’ve just been a dominant force in your stable! What do you mean you’ve been letting the greenhorns defend your belt while you sit on your ass? Well, then, at the very least, you must have some sort of big maneuver! You play dress up as younger, better athletes than you? Golly, Doc, you sure have been getting stale. Hey, you might as well come out lookin’ like me if you’re hoping your clothes can rub some talent onto you. I wouldn’t be so disappointed, but it’s a little sad seeing everyone so excited to see you dragging your walker to the ring, when you and I both know your best years aren’t just behind you, but that they weren’t that great to begin with. Still, everybody needs a last ride and I’m willing to offer you a herse.”

“Do I hear the violent honking of noses? Could that be the lead driver of the clown car herself?! Oh, Miss Fury, it must be a real damn shame running BoB nowadays. I mean, you don’t have any titles. You HAD them, but you’re BoB, so it wasn’t gonna be a Centurion length title run if you get my drift. Still, I was expecting anything but your sideshow twosome who couldn’t even beat Ned doing little TV sketches while they march their way to another guaranteed BoB blowout. Hell, your organization is diversifying a lot lately! I guess it has to because novelty is really all y’all have to offer. Can’t keep a title, can’t win a match half the time, hell you care more about putting posters together rather than cleaning up your act! And at the ivory tower of the bronze medalists sits you, Fury. Queen of quantity when quality has long left you hanging out to dry. I have no sympathy for you simply because you had ample opportunity not to associate with idiots and you instead scared your entire faction by shaking hands with a stable even lamer than yours. Truly your company suits you.”

“And now we have my very, very special friend, Shawn. I could’ve done this without you, but you really sped up the process! But then you had to go and ruin it with all of these prissy emotions! Man up, Shawn! There’s no reason you should be coming out here like C-3P0 all because you’re a little upset about facing your girlfriend! Hell, you don’t even have the balls to tell her that you have to beat her yourself! Hey, I’m here to be supportive, though and I want you to know that I’m here to make sure you don’t have to spend another million dollars on a hologram when I’ve got a perfect and cost-effective solution!”

The Nefarious One pulls out a See-And-Say with Shawn’s face glued to the front and pulls the cord.

“The cow says: Moo!”

“Very insightful, Shawn! By the way, when I’m done writing the book on your career, I think I’ll use it as a coaster. God knows it won’t be thick enough to even out my dining table.”

“I think that’s everybody. Oh, ho ho ho. Silly me. I guess I am forgetting someone! Right, Charlie?”

“You know, I thought Ned was pretty pathetic, but you? You’re something else, I mean, you were doing everything right! You made it to the XWF on the crumpled back of your broken marriage. You had a title run that was monumental but could never make up for your gross personal failings! Hell, you even beat Ned and made fun of his Mom. I approve!”

“But then you felt bad about it. And you realized that the only way you could feel good about yourself was to pretend to be someone else. So you put on a gaurdian angel facade and went to work acting like a complete doofus, hoping maybe, just maybe redemption was near. The cherry on top? You could have stopped me. You could have believed Ned and helped him to fight me off, the demon that I am, but you didn’t even bother, Char. Too busy focusing on yourself. I’ll be sure to focus lots on you Charlie. Hell, I want the world to see the real you again! Promise you’ll squirm for me?”]]>

The Nefarious One sits behind a large wooden desk, a wide smile on his face. He cracks his knuckles before leaning back in his chair, propping his feet upon the desk.

"Y'know, I haven't felt like myself lately. It's true! There's just something about having to wait for some goody two-shoes to do his schtick while you're in the wings that'll make a guy…"

"Get a little restless. Like, imagine that you're in a car. A real nice one, we're talking one of those concept cars that never makes it to mass production. This baby can really do things! You start brainstorming about what one could achieve with this vehicle and tremble at the possibilities! And then they put you in the passenger's seat and get someone else to drive while you watch their every movement, wondering if they could ever possibly care about this car more than you. So, when they step on the gas and start driving like a grandma, it's a tad fucking infuriating! This baby should be ignoring intersections, leaving cops in the dust, breaking the goddamn sound barrier and the driver chooses to not take rights on reds! Once the opportunity arose, I did what any sensible person would do and I began to look for any way I could into the driver's seat and all of this is just the unfortunate struggle of pushing old Ned into the trunk. Funny thing about that, though."

"Ned thinks he's going to walk in there and win the battle royal in some sort of grand gesture. And, honestly, he might even be right."

"All things on the table, though, it's not like he's going up against The Brand or anything. Let's be blunt, we're not even talking Tony Santos level. I mean, it's a literal pile of people not good enough on their first tries and some randos who want a lucky break just in case they can disguise themselves as a ref and half-ass their way to getting destroyed later in the night. I'm looking at you, Mr. Dixon! No, I don't give a fuck who trained you. I care more about learning the names of trainers who neglect to teach their dog shake than whatever 40 year old frozen food salesman endorsed your contract. Everyone's lining to pat that sore spot Corey left on your back because "even though you lost, you still looked really good!" Good news for you, I feel charitable enough that if I do get my hands on you that night, you'll look even better losing to me."

"Speaking of losing, Champ Sportsman! You seriously thought coming to another battle royal when the last one you did here shook you off like a bad habit? You are outmatched and that is saying something considering you're in the B-list free-for-all. I know you've been very fixated on lists lately, so I'll just let you know that you're number one on one list and that's people who aren't getting their contracts renewed. Now, instead of wrestling, why don't you go practice your true calling and pass water bottles out to varsity football players."

“But let’s say that somehow Ned makes it past the Second Rate Battle Royal. Hell, maybe they’ll be just enough of him left to keep nagging during the Hart Title match. But once that final match comes along? Well, you’re gonna have to deal with me. So, the following few should hope and pray that Ned doesn’t put me right where I want to be. Because you’re going to have a very crestfallen night if so.”

“Doc! Lots of great things going around about you! I mean, you’ve got such a new twist, right? No? Oh, then you’ve just been a dominant force in your stable! What do you mean you’ve been letting the greenhorns defend your belt while you sit on your ass? Well, then, at the very least, you must have some sort of big maneuver! You play dress up as younger, better athletes than you? Golly, Doc, you sure have been getting stale. Hey, you might as well come out lookin’ like me if you’re hoping your clothes can rub some talent onto you. I wouldn’t be so disappointed, but it’s a little sad seeing everyone so excited to see you dragging your walker to the ring, when you and I both know your best years aren’t just behind you, but that they weren’t that great to begin with. Still, everybody needs a last ride and I’m willing to offer you a herse.”

“Do I hear the violent honking of noses? Could that be the lead driver of the clown car herself?! Oh, Miss Fury, it must be a real damn shame running BoB nowadays. I mean, you don’t have any titles. You HAD them, but you’re BoB, so it wasn’t gonna be a Centurion length title run if you get my drift. Still, I was expecting anything but your sideshow twosome who couldn’t even beat Ned doing little TV sketches while they march their way to another guaranteed BoB blowout. Hell, your organization is diversifying a lot lately! I guess it has to because novelty is really all y’all have to offer. Can’t keep a title, can’t win a match half the time, hell you care more about putting posters together rather than cleaning up your act! And at the ivory tower of the bronze medalists sits you, Fury. Queen of quantity when quality has long left you hanging out to dry. I have no sympathy for you simply because you had ample opportunity not to associate with idiots and you instead scared your entire faction by shaking hands with a stable even lamer than yours. Truly your company suits you.”

“And now we have my very, very special friend, Shawn. I could’ve done this without you, but you really sped up the process! But then you had to go and ruin it with all of these prissy emotions! Man up, Shawn! There’s no reason you should be coming out here like C-3P0 all because you’re a little upset about facing your girlfriend! Hell, you don’t even have the balls to tell her that you have to beat her yourself! Hey, I’m here to be supportive, though and I want you to know that I’m here to make sure you don’t have to spend another million dollars on a hologram when I’ve got a perfect and cost-effective solution!”

The Nefarious One pulls out a See-And-Say with Shawn’s face glued to the front and pulls the cord.

“The cow says: Moo!”

“Very insightful, Shawn! By the way, when I’m done writing the book on your career, I think I’ll use it as a coaster. God knows it won’t be thick enough to even out my dining table.”

“I think that’s everybody. Oh, ho ho ho. Silly me. I guess I am forgetting someone! Right, Charlie?”

“You know, I thought Ned was pretty pathetic, but you? You’re something else, I mean, you were doing everything right! You made it to the XWF on the crumpled back of your broken marriage. You had a title run that was monumental but could never make up for your gross personal failings! Hell, you even beat Ned and made fun of his Mom. I approve!”

“But then you felt bad about it. And you realized that the only way you could feel good about yourself was to pretend to be someone else. So you put on a gaurdian angel facade and went to work acting like a complete doofus, hoping maybe, just maybe redemption was near. The cherry on top? You could have stopped me. You could have believed Ned and helped him to fight me off, the demon that I am, but you didn’t even bother, Char. Too busy focusing on yourself. I’ll be sure to focus lots on you Charlie. Hell, I want the world to see the real you again! Promise you’ll squirm for me?”]]> <![CDATA[top 50]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40278 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 21:45:36 -0700 Champ Sportsman]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40278 cousin Chump Sportsman, rather than the Ultra Bowl Champion he was.

As if all that weren't bad enough, Champ managed to catch the latest issue of Sports Illustrated at a local magazine vendor one night on his way home from practice.

TOP 50 ATHLETES IN EVERY SPORT: FROM FOOTBALL TO PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING, the cover read, prompting Champ's ego to get the better of him and purchase it. Considering how bad his last couple of days had been, he figured it'd be a nice pick-me-up to see himself ranked among the current greats.

The Triathlete flipped through the plethora of Top 50 lists until he reached the Football one. He eagerly ran his finger down each name as he read them aloud, each one a player he was more than familiar with. There were legendary Quarterbacks, Wide Receivers he'd been compared to since being Drafted, Corners who covered him, and even a few teammates............... but the one name Champ DIDN'T see was his own.

"Is this some kind of mistake?!" Sportsman wondered, scanning over the list more thoroughly, this time. When he got back to #50, Champ not only realized he WASN'T on it, but Enrique Gonzalez was. "Son of a bitch."

Champ wasn't an idiot, he knew crackin' the Top 10, maybe even 20, was a long shot, but to not even make the list at all was downright insulting. Sure his rookie year wasn't great, Ultra Bowl aside, but he followed it up with back to back 1,000 yard seasons with a MINIMUM 8 TDs in each of them. Was it #1 material? No, not yet at least. Good enough to break 50? Absolutely.

The Triathlete turned the page almost as quickly as he got to it, wanting nothing more to do with Bob White and his bogus list. He would've been convinced Mr. White had never even seen a Carolina Rockets game if it weren't for his teammates being on there. Regardless, it was one person's opinion(a wrong one, at that!) and Champ wasn't gonna let it stop him from enjoying his position on Baseball's Top 50.

Champ passed by a bunch of random ass sports, if you could even call them that, before eventually landing on the page he was looking for. Confident he at least made this list, Champ began at the top and slowly worked his way down, checking each name twice like he was Santa Claus. Despite winning Rookie of the Year in 2016 and having his best season before the cancellation last year, Champ Sportsman was nowhere to be found.

None of it made sense. Champ was THE Triathlete, and a damn good one, too. You didn't see too many pitchers taking their own at bats, let alone ones that could actually hit homers! He caught the deciding Touchdown in the biggest game of the year(a moment that would be played over and over again until the end of time), AND followed it up with two, not only consistent seasons, but PRODUCTIVE ones, as well. Champ Sportsman doesn't just talk the talk, he walks the walk; and has a Championship ring, along with a Rookie of the Year trophy to prove it!

It wouldn't have bothered Champ so much if he didn't KNOW he was better than some of the names on either list. He didn't want to say it out loud but, deep down, it was hard for him to deny that fact................ or Cold Big D Truth, as his trainer would say. Champ may have had a coke problem(keyword: HAD), but everyone has theirs demons, and he NEVER let it get in the way of his job; not ONCE! You don't hear people talking shit about Mark Bonds or Barry McGuire for their use of performance enhancers; or Ricardo Martinez's addiction to prostitutes! As far as Champ knew, his secrets were safe, and there should be no reason for people like Bob White or Megan Reno to judge him for i...................

"Megan Reno?!?" Sportsman whispered, coming to the realization it was none other than his ex-girlfriend who made the second list. "That bitch!"

Champ felt betrayed.

This wasn't a fair, unbiased opinion of a football player, it was vengeance from a scornful ex who couldn't go without breaking the Triathlete's heart one more time. It sucked, but it also confirmed Champ's doubt in the legitimacy of the list. The deck was stacked against him from the very beginning. Not only did Miss Reno intentionally leave Champ off the Baseball List, she somehow convinced her coworker to drag him through the mud in Football, as well.

"Probably with her mouth," a sour Sportsman thought.

He knew he messed things up, but considering SHE was the one who left HIM, Champ thought they'd be able to move on with their lives without any sort of hate or animosity, but apparently he was wrong! It wasn't enough for her to leave the Triathlete a broken man, and it STILL wasn't enough when she started fucking a man Champ absolutely despised. No, Megan Reno had to rub salt into the rotting wound of Champ's soul and trip his feet out from under him as he was trying to get back up. SHE may have been guilty of putting the Triathlete on a pedestal before they got to know each other better, but the same could be said about HER. Champ thought she was some sweet, innocent sports journalist who genuinely cared about him when, in actuality, she was just a whore for the athletes.

An upset Sportsman ripped up the magazine and tossed it in a nearby trash can. The Persian owner of the stand hr was at saw this and approached the Triathlete. "Hey! You must'a pay for that!!!" he shouted, furiously pointing to the trash can as he berated Champ.

"I'm terribly sorry," the Triathlete apologized, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a Benjamin Franklin to hand to the local businessman. "It was something I read."

The man reached for the money, but stopped himself upon realizing who was standing before him. "You're Champ Sportsman!"

"In the flesh," the Triathlete awkwardly replied, trying to get the man to take the money so he could leave.

"Hey, everyone, it's Champ Sportsman!!!!!"

Pedestrians stopped dead in their tracks and turned to get a glimpse of their hometown hero. None of the cars moved, despite some of them having green lights, because they were all too busy pointing and waving at Champ. People surrounded him and the Persian business owner, all of them giving the Triathlete their praise and support. Eventually, the entire city was roaring with excitement, and even had a chant going for the man they loved more than Megan Reno ever did.

"CHAMP! CHAMP! CHAMP! CHAMP!"

The Triathlete was overwhelmed with emotion. He didn't NEED a list to prove how great he was, everybody already KNEW it! The fire fighters, policemen, mail carriers, and hair stylists. Gay people, straight people, the rich, the poor, black, white, red, and blue............ NOONE could deny Champ's greatness. Even Miss Reno herself told him how amazing she thought he was before they started dating. So, either she was lying then or she was lying NOW.

Champ wiped a tear from his eye and addressed the crowd with a smile so wide, it almost made it impossible to talk. "I appreciate that, truly, I do," the Triathlete began, clearing his throat in order to keep the waterworks from flowing. "It's been a rough couple of months.............. I've had struggles with loathing and self doubt, wondering if I was any better of an athlete than I was a person. But you guys have opened my eyes and shown me what it means to be a TRUE fan; someone who'll stick by your side through thick AND thin, rooting for you even when the score's 35-0."

Champ grabbed a fresh copy of the same Sports Illustrated he threw away moments before, with no objection from the stand's owner. "They don't think I'm good enough to make the Top 50 in ANY sport!" the Triathlete spouted to an angry roar from the crowd. "Not football, not baseball, and certainly not wrestling! But you know what I say?! Fuck 'em! We don't NEED hot shots like the suits at Sports Illustrated telling us who is, and isn't, worthy of making some imaginary list................ we can judge THAT for ourselves!"

"We love you, Champ!" a random woman blurted out.

"You're #1 to us!" another shouted.

Before Champ could say anything, the Persian vendor reached for his entire stack of Sports Illustrated and knocked them onto the sidewalk. "Fuck'a Sports Illustrated!!!" he screamed, spitting on the pile as the entire city jumped for joy.

Champ Sportsman felt validated for the first time since losing at High Stakes. It wasn't up to Megan Reno or Bob White to determine the Triathlete's worth, that was between him and his actual fans. As long as they were happy, so was Champ.

"'ey, Champ!" a taxi driver called out for his car. "I'll give ya a ride home if you sign my cab!"

The man held a Sharpie out his window, which Champ walked over and signed the roof of his car with. "I appreciate it," he said, handing the marker back. "But Champ Sportsman's gonna get a good jog in before heading home."

"Hey, what if we join you?" someone suggested.

"Yeah! It can be a run of solidarity!" another agreed.

Normally Champ would've said 'no' but, given the circumstances, he was more than happy to welcome some company.

"You know what?" Sportsman said, his spirits soaring higher than any eagle ever could. "I'd like that alot."

And with that, Champ took off on his run, flanked closely by the entire community of Raleigh, North Carolina. Business owners closed up shop and drivers abandoned their cars in traffic just for the chance to say they got to run with Champ Sportsman. They may not have realized it, but the experience almost meant more to Champ than it did any of them. No list could ever take that feeling away from him.


"I hope you're ready, XWF Universe, because this is gonna be the promo you'll remember me for; the one they'll play for future generations to show the exact MOMENT Champ Sportsman became a staaaaaaar!"

"You know, it was bad enough having people underestimate my abilities in the ring, but now I've got critics who don't even think I'm good enough to do the job they've been paying me to do for the last 4+ years! Do you know how many Draft picks end up becoming a bust before they can even make it to Year #4?! Too many to count!!! The fact Champ Sportsman is still around AND having success whilst doing so is the ultimate testament to THAT!"

"Theo Pryce thinks I'm just a body thrown into this match for the mere sake of getting thrown back out. I stick with my contract, Theo, and if you're gonna make me show up, I'm GOING TO show up! Champ Sportsman doesn't do half a job, he does the whole damn thing and, come March Madness, everyone's gonna be jobbin' to HIM! I don't care if you're Captain Future and already know your fate or Andre Dixon betting on yourself, the Triathlete's striking you OUT!!! And if you don't like it, you should've called Mingermind or Hang Kill to do your dirty work, instead! Pretty sure Hang volunteered to make an appearance, what the hell happened to THAT?!? You didn't even HAVE to ask me to show up in the first place!............... but you did, and now I'm gonna make you regret it. Next time, ask one of those kiss asses from YOUR Top 50 to do it, we all know that's how people make those lists."

"I should be offended by Doc's assumption he'll be meeting Charlie Nickles in the Finals, but I'm not. By my diagnosis, he suffers from the same kinds of delusions as the man he thinks will be laying down for him Sunday night. Throw in a side of arrogance, with a hint of bullshit, and you've got Doctor D'Ville in a NUTshell. He may be right about seeing Shawn later in the show, but it doesn't take a PhD to know THAT! The two of them are Legends, for Pete's Dragon, it'd be foolish NOT to expect either of them to be there at the end. Unfortunately for them, Champ Sportsman's gonna be right there too, and he's gonna use their blinders to his advantage. It's harder to block a shot you don't see comin', and the more they deny the Triathlete's existence, the stronger those shots become! They aren't gonna know what hit 'em."

"But I've gotta MAKE it to the Finals first, and in order to do that I'm gonna have to get through Doc's favorite, Charlie Nickles. And why wouldn't he be? Not only did Doc send him packing to the 2nd Chance Battle Royal, he stuffed him down a chimney, too! No wonder D'Ville's pullin' for Demos!!! Speaking of which, there's ANOTHER Savage match Charlie didn't defend his Title in.......................... ironically enough, if he DID, he would've LOST IT. So much for that 'longest reign', huh? It's one thing to hold off defending the belt in a Tag Team Match, even though my mentor did it, but it's a little questionable to do so in a Singles one............... you might even call it cowardly. Do you know what an asterisk is, Charlie? It's what they gave the Texas Rednecks' Championship Season after it came to light their Quarterback paid off the opposing team's corners in order to, not only win the Ultra Bowl, but the MVP trophy, as well. That's you, Charlie............. a man who's only Champion due to his own, rigged circumstances. If you weren't making the rules, you wouldn't be winning the game. Marf, PLEASE do us all a favor and end this pathetic reign of Charlie's............... it'll be the greatest thing the Left Hand's EVER done! Which isn't saying much, but still! Charlie's gonna be no better than Ned once March Madness is through!"

"They call you the Notorious One, but what exactly are you notorious for? Nearly killing someone because he made fun of your dead fiance? Wasting a 24/7 briefcase? A lonely Title run? You're awfully high on that Top 50 for a man of little achievements. Lucky for you, March Madness has the potential to change all of that. 2nd Chance Battle Royal. Another reign with the Hart Championship. King Kaye. If there's ANYONE with the most to gain Sunday night, it's you. It's not often you get the chance to change your entire career in the span of a single night, but that's EXACTLY the opportunity that's been laid before you................. it's just a shame Theo had to call the Champster in to ruin it! Don't worry, though, I won't get in your way of the Hart Championship.............. Lord knows you'll do a good enough job of THAT yourself!"

"There's other guys like Dean Rose and Andre Dixon, but are they REALLY worth mementioning? Rose thinks he's the shit because he won the lowest belt on ANARCHY, and Dixon exerts a false sense confidence all because he placed a little money on himself. Andre, I'd HOPE you'd bet on yourself, anybody who wouldn't has no business being here! If you don't believe in yourself, nobody else is going to, either. It's why you call yourself a King before you've even earned your crown. Boy, you're gonna look foolish once Champ Sportsman's sitting on that throne you've already bestowed upon yourself! As for my mother............... I wish she would've been a stripper, at least then she would've actually had a JOB!"

"I may not be the favorite, whether it be in the eyes of the fans, management, or even my peers, but that's not gonna stop me from working my ass off and doing everything in my power to walk out of March Madness with the victory. It doesn't matter WHO the Elite 8 are, because the true King of XWF is in the 2nd Chance Battle Royal, and his name is Champ Sportsman!"]]> cousin Chump Sportsman, rather than the Ultra Bowl Champion he was.

As if all that weren't bad enough, Champ managed to catch the latest issue of Sports Illustrated at a local magazine vendor one night on his way home from practice.

TOP 50 ATHLETES IN EVERY SPORT: FROM FOOTBALL TO PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING, the cover read, prompting Champ's ego to get the better of him and purchase it. Considering how bad his last couple of days had been, he figured it'd be a nice pick-me-up to see himself ranked among the current greats.

The Triathlete flipped through the plethora of Top 50 lists until he reached the Football one. He eagerly ran his finger down each name as he read them aloud, each one a player he was more than familiar with. There were legendary Quarterbacks, Wide Receivers he'd been compared to since being Drafted, Corners who covered him, and even a few teammates............... but the one name Champ DIDN'T see was his own.

"Is this some kind of mistake?!" Sportsman wondered, scanning over the list more thoroughly, this time. When he got back to #50, Champ not only realized he WASN'T on it, but Enrique Gonzalez was. "Son of a bitch."

Champ wasn't an idiot, he knew crackin' the Top 10, maybe even 20, was a long shot, but to not even make the list at all was downright insulting. Sure his rookie year wasn't great, Ultra Bowl aside, but he followed it up with back to back 1,000 yard seasons with a MINIMUM 8 TDs in each of them. Was it #1 material? No, not yet at least. Good enough to break 50? Absolutely.

The Triathlete turned the page almost as quickly as he got to it, wanting nothing more to do with Bob White and his bogus list. He would've been convinced Mr. White had never even seen a Carolina Rockets game if it weren't for his teammates being on there. Regardless, it was one person's opinion(a wrong one, at that!) and Champ wasn't gonna let it stop him from enjoying his position on Baseball's Top 50.

Champ passed by a bunch of random ass sports, if you could even call them that, before eventually landing on the page he was looking for. Confident he at least made this list, Champ began at the top and slowly worked his way down, checking each name twice like he was Santa Claus. Despite winning Rookie of the Year in 2016 and having his best season before the cancellation last year, Champ Sportsman was nowhere to be found.

None of it made sense. Champ was THE Triathlete, and a damn good one, too. You didn't see too many pitchers taking their own at bats, let alone ones that could actually hit homers! He caught the deciding Touchdown in the biggest game of the year(a moment that would be played over and over again until the end of time), AND followed it up with two, not only consistent seasons, but PRODUCTIVE ones, as well. Champ Sportsman doesn't just talk the talk, he walks the walk; and has a Championship ring, along with a Rookie of the Year trophy to prove it!

It wouldn't have bothered Champ so much if he didn't KNOW he was better than some of the names on either list. He didn't want to say it out loud but, deep down, it was hard for him to deny that fact................ or Cold Big D Truth, as his trainer would say. Champ may have had a coke problem(keyword: HAD), but everyone has theirs demons, and he NEVER let it get in the way of his job; not ONCE! You don't hear people talking shit about Mark Bonds or Barry McGuire for their use of performance enhancers; or Ricardo Martinez's addiction to prostitutes! As far as Champ knew, his secrets were safe, and there should be no reason for people like Bob White or Megan Reno to judge him for i...................

"Megan Reno?!?" Sportsman whispered, coming to the realization it was none other than his ex-girlfriend who made the second list. "That bitch!"

Champ felt betrayed.

This wasn't a fair, unbiased opinion of a football player, it was vengeance from a scornful ex who couldn't go without breaking the Triathlete's heart one more time. It sucked, but it also confirmed Champ's doubt in the legitimacy of the list. The deck was stacked against him from the very beginning. Not only did Miss Reno intentionally leave Champ off the Baseball List, she somehow convinced her coworker to drag him through the mud in Football, as well.

"Probably with her mouth," a sour Sportsman thought.

He knew he messed things up, but considering SHE was the one who left HIM, Champ thought they'd be able to move on with their lives without any sort of hate or animosity, but apparently he was wrong! It wasn't enough for her to leave the Triathlete a broken man, and it STILL wasn't enough when she started fucking a man Champ absolutely despised. No, Megan Reno had to rub salt into the rotting wound of Champ's soul and trip his feet out from under him as he was trying to get back up. SHE may have been guilty of putting the Triathlete on a pedestal before they got to know each other better, but the same could be said about HER. Champ thought she was some sweet, innocent sports journalist who genuinely cared about him when, in actuality, she was just a whore for the athletes.

An upset Sportsman ripped up the magazine and tossed it in a nearby trash can. The Persian owner of the stand hr was at saw this and approached the Triathlete. "Hey! You must'a pay for that!!!" he shouted, furiously pointing to the trash can as he berated Champ.

"I'm terribly sorry," the Triathlete apologized, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a Benjamin Franklin to hand to the local businessman. "It was something I read."

The man reached for the money, but stopped himself upon realizing who was standing before him. "You're Champ Sportsman!"

"In the flesh," the Triathlete awkwardly replied, trying to get the man to take the money so he could leave.

"Hey, everyone, it's Champ Sportsman!!!!!"

Pedestrians stopped dead in their tracks and turned to get a glimpse of their hometown hero. None of the cars moved, despite some of them having green lights, because they were all too busy pointing and waving at Champ. People surrounded him and the Persian business owner, all of them giving the Triathlete their praise and support. Eventually, the entire city was roaring with excitement, and even had a chant going for the man they loved more than Megan Reno ever did.

"CHAMP! CHAMP! CHAMP! CHAMP!"

The Triathlete was overwhelmed with emotion. He didn't NEED a list to prove how great he was, everybody already KNEW it! The fire fighters, policemen, mail carriers, and hair stylists. Gay people, straight people, the rich, the poor, black, white, red, and blue............ NOONE could deny Champ's greatness. Even Miss Reno herself told him how amazing she thought he was before they started dating. So, either she was lying then or she was lying NOW.

Champ wiped a tear from his eye and addressed the crowd with a smile so wide, it almost made it impossible to talk. "I appreciate that, truly, I do," the Triathlete began, clearing his throat in order to keep the waterworks from flowing. "It's been a rough couple of months.............. I've had struggles with loathing and self doubt, wondering if I was any better of an athlete than I was a person. But you guys have opened my eyes and shown me what it means to be a TRUE fan; someone who'll stick by your side through thick AND thin, rooting for you even when the score's 35-0."

Champ grabbed a fresh copy of the same Sports Illustrated he threw away moments before, with no objection from the stand's owner. "They don't think I'm good enough to make the Top 50 in ANY sport!" the Triathlete spouted to an angry roar from the crowd. "Not football, not baseball, and certainly not wrestling! But you know what I say?! Fuck 'em! We don't NEED hot shots like the suits at Sports Illustrated telling us who is, and isn't, worthy of making some imaginary list................ we can judge THAT for ourselves!"

"We love you, Champ!" a random woman blurted out.

"You're #1 to us!" another shouted.

Before Champ could say anything, the Persian vendor reached for his entire stack of Sports Illustrated and knocked them onto the sidewalk. "Fuck'a Sports Illustrated!!!" he screamed, spitting on the pile as the entire city jumped for joy.

Champ Sportsman felt validated for the first time since losing at High Stakes. It wasn't up to Megan Reno or Bob White to determine the Triathlete's worth, that was between him and his actual fans. As long as they were happy, so was Champ.

"'ey, Champ!" a taxi driver called out for his car. "I'll give ya a ride home if you sign my cab!"

The man held a Sharpie out his window, which Champ walked over and signed the roof of his car with. "I appreciate it," he said, handing the marker back. "But Champ Sportsman's gonna get a good jog in before heading home."

"Hey, what if we join you?" someone suggested.

"Yeah! It can be a run of solidarity!" another agreed.

Normally Champ would've said 'no' but, given the circumstances, he was more than happy to welcome some company.

"You know what?" Sportsman said, his spirits soaring higher than any eagle ever could. "I'd like that alot."

And with that, Champ took off on his run, flanked closely by the entire community of Raleigh, North Carolina. Business owners closed up shop and drivers abandoned their cars in traffic just for the chance to say they got to run with Champ Sportsman. They may not have realized it, but the experience almost meant more to Champ than it did any of them. No list could ever take that feeling away from him.


"I hope you're ready, XWF Universe, because this is gonna be the promo you'll remember me for; the one they'll play for future generations to show the exact MOMENT Champ Sportsman became a staaaaaaar!"

"You know, it was bad enough having people underestimate my abilities in the ring, but now I've got critics who don't even think I'm good enough to do the job they've been paying me to do for the last 4+ years! Do you know how many Draft picks end up becoming a bust before they can even make it to Year #4?! Too many to count!!! The fact Champ Sportsman is still around AND having success whilst doing so is the ultimate testament to THAT!"

"Theo Pryce thinks I'm just a body thrown into this match for the mere sake of getting thrown back out. I stick with my contract, Theo, and if you're gonna make me show up, I'm GOING TO show up! Champ Sportsman doesn't do half a job, he does the whole damn thing and, come March Madness, everyone's gonna be jobbin' to HIM! I don't care if you're Captain Future and already know your fate or Andre Dixon betting on yourself, the Triathlete's striking you OUT!!! And if you don't like it, you should've called Mingermind or Hang Kill to do your dirty work, instead! Pretty sure Hang volunteered to make an appearance, what the hell happened to THAT?!? You didn't even HAVE to ask me to show up in the first place!............... but you did, and now I'm gonna make you regret it. Next time, ask one of those kiss asses from YOUR Top 50 to do it, we all know that's how people make those lists."

"I should be offended by Doc's assumption he'll be meeting Charlie Nickles in the Finals, but I'm not. By my diagnosis, he suffers from the same kinds of delusions as the man he thinks will be laying down for him Sunday night. Throw in a side of arrogance, with a hint of bullshit, and you've got Doctor D'Ville in a NUTshell. He may be right about seeing Shawn later in the show, but it doesn't take a PhD to know THAT! The two of them are Legends, for Pete's Dragon, it'd be foolish NOT to expect either of them to be there at the end. Unfortunately for them, Champ Sportsman's gonna be right there too, and he's gonna use their blinders to his advantage. It's harder to block a shot you don't see comin', and the more they deny the Triathlete's existence, the stronger those shots become! They aren't gonna know what hit 'em."

"But I've gotta MAKE it to the Finals first, and in order to do that I'm gonna have to get through Doc's favorite, Charlie Nickles. And why wouldn't he be? Not only did Doc send him packing to the 2nd Chance Battle Royal, he stuffed him down a chimney, too! No wonder D'Ville's pullin' for Demos!!! Speaking of which, there's ANOTHER Savage match Charlie didn't defend his Title in.......................... ironically enough, if he DID, he would've LOST IT. So much for that 'longest reign', huh? It's one thing to hold off defending the belt in a Tag Team Match, even though my mentor did it, but it's a little questionable to do so in a Singles one............... you might even call it cowardly. Do you know what an asterisk is, Charlie? It's what they gave the Texas Rednecks' Championship Season after it came to light their Quarterback paid off the opposing team's corners in order to, not only win the Ultra Bowl, but the MVP trophy, as well. That's you, Charlie............. a man who's only Champion due to his own, rigged circumstances. If you weren't making the rules, you wouldn't be winning the game. Marf, PLEASE do us all a favor and end this pathetic reign of Charlie's............... it'll be the greatest thing the Left Hand's EVER done! Which isn't saying much, but still! Charlie's gonna be no better than Ned once March Madness is through!"

"They call you the Notorious One, but what exactly are you notorious for? Nearly killing someone because he made fun of your dead fiance? Wasting a 24/7 briefcase? A lonely Title run? You're awfully high on that Top 50 for a man of little achievements. Lucky for you, March Madness has the potential to change all of that. 2nd Chance Battle Royal. Another reign with the Hart Championship. King Kaye. If there's ANYONE with the most to gain Sunday night, it's you. It's not often you get the chance to change your entire career in the span of a single night, but that's EXACTLY the opportunity that's been laid before you................. it's just a shame Theo had to call the Champster in to ruin it! Don't worry, though, I won't get in your way of the Hart Championship.............. Lord knows you'll do a good enough job of THAT yourself!"

"There's other guys like Dean Rose and Andre Dixon, but are they REALLY worth mementioning? Rose thinks he's the shit because he won the lowest belt on ANARCHY, and Dixon exerts a false sense confidence all because he placed a little money on himself. Andre, I'd HOPE you'd bet on yourself, anybody who wouldn't has no business being here! If you don't believe in yourself, nobody else is going to, either. It's why you call yourself a King before you've even earned your crown. Boy, you're gonna look foolish once Champ Sportsman's sitting on that throne you've already bestowed upon yourself! As for my mother............... I wish she would've been a stripper, at least then she would've actually had a JOB!"

"I may not be the favorite, whether it be in the eyes of the fans, management, or even my peers, but that's not gonna stop me from working my ass off and doing everything in my power to walk out of March Madness with the victory. It doesn't matter WHO the Elite 8 are, because the true King of XWF is in the 2nd Chance Battle Royal, and his name is Champ Sportsman!"]]> <![CDATA[THE CURE FOR CANCER!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40277 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 21:34:53 -0700 Thunder Knuckles™]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40277



The stories of our lives unfold, overdramatically, in every which way.


THE CURE FOR CANCER!


Still aboard The Arantxa Sanchez Vicario, Tadd’s pirate ship with thrusters attached so it can fly into space if need be. In the exact moment, we left off where Big P looks at Hoggart dramatically. Hoggart looks at Tadd dramatically. Tadd looks at Hoggart, then Big P, then Hoggart dramatically. Leena approaches and puts her hand around Tadd's waist. Since the boat has been moving, now some 199 nautical miles away, on the island, the same dude is looking off dramatically.


Everything’s going to be okay Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart.

I hope so.

You may, or may not be aware, but we’ve come pretty close to the cure for cancer. With ME, Dr. Tadd Poop Esquire, at the helm of research.


The way Tadd says this all matter of factly, turns Leena on. You can tell by the way she's panting like a dog. Tadd looks lovingly into the eyes of his werewolf, lover, stepmother, and mother of his werewolf son and says.


Don’t worry Leena we will cure Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart, for Big P’s sake. Big P we have to get back to land!


Big P gets up and walks to the bridge of the ship and begins to navigate back to the land which at this point is only 201 nautical miles away. With this and his knowledge of the law and rocket science. Big P turns the thrusters on the Arantxa Sanchez Vicario long enough to rocket them just off the coast of California.


Well, that was convenient.

I knew thrusters on a pirate ship would come in handy.


Big P warmly smiles a Tadd.


You know, everyone thought you were crazy. They all said the ship would fall apart, but no it held up, and here we are in no time, whatsoever! You were right!

I know.

Now what?

Now we have to get Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart back to my lab. You get him off the ship and head over me and Leena will head that way.


Big P walks in and gathers Hoggart’s clone and their things and heads over to Tadd’s research facility. Tadd does the same thing except he’s trying to gather up Leena. Leena, who’s been panting since Tadd made that super sexy speech. Where he sounded confident and without worry. Nothing turns a woman on like a confident man. She pounces soft low key romantic music plays, heavy breathing, groping, and the sounds of spit being transferred from mouth to mouth can be heard. Random things are being knocked over. The camera pans away as they begin to dry hump. Very very classy stuff. The camera once panned away from some tender Tadd and Leena loving it fades to Big P and Hoggart who have arrived at the research facility.


Do you think this is going to hurt?

I don’t know. I sure hope not for your sake.


The clone of Hoggart looks sad at the thought this might hurt. About 2 hours pass. It takes one hour and fifty-five minutes from the marina to the research facility. Finally, Tadd and Leena make it to the facility.


Hey, Tadd-

Dr. Tadd.


Tadd intensely looks at Hoggart's clone.


Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart, I didn’t go through 8 years of medical school to be called less by someone who wasn't even born.


Big P looks sad because he is reminded once again that, this Hoggart, isn’t his long-lost brother.


It’s alright Big P. We’re only going to take more samples of his blood again.


A familiar ping sound could be heard. Leena looks down at her phone and begins to message back whoever is on the other end.


Who’s that sweetheart?

It’s Petunia.

Oh, good dear, have a good time talk about… Uhm… Female stuff.


Tadd extracts some more of the clone of Hoggart’s blood. After getting his sample he whisks it away into his lab.


If only WereCure didn't take off! We were so close to a cure for cancer!


Dr. Tadd begins to think when suddenly hit with a stroke of genius. He takes the clone of Hoggart’s blood sample and puts it in a petri dish and mixes some of WereCure into it. The cancer is spreading at a rapid rate. Faster than anything Tadd has ever seen. Tadd yells out.


I'VE DONE IT!!!! I'VE FOUND THE CURE FOR CANCER!


Tadd begins to run into the room scream the same thing he’s been screaming all the way down the hallways like a mad man.


I'VE DONE IT GUYS! I'VE DONE IT!


Everyone pauses in silence waiting dramatically for Tad to tell them what he’s done. The theme music is playing. When your regularly scheduled program is interrupted by a commercial break.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A man in a cowboy hat, red flannel, khaki pants with giant belt buckle, and aviator sunglasses is shown on your screen.


Crazy Fawker here from Crazy Fawker's Used Auto! Where we’re kicking the competition in the fucking nuts. They want four grand for a car.


Crazy Fawker walks up and kicks a guy in the nuts.


Hell, No! Two grand tops! We got Chevys. We've got Fords. Hell, ask for my wife, she’ll probably be cooking some beans! What’s that you say, They don’t have all the bells and whistles?


Crazy Fawker walks up and kicks an old lady in the box.


We don’t discriminate against women either, we'll get you the bells and the whistles! So come on down to Crazy Fawker’s Used Auto's car lot and find yourself a ball baster of a deal guaranteed!


The commercial fades back to dramatic events you left off with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The theme music is playing. Everyone still paused in silence waiting dramatically for Tad to tell them what he’s done. Finally, the silence has been broken.


I HAVE THE CURE FOR CANCER!


The clone of Hoggart seems pleased.


Does that mean I can be cured today?

It sure does my friend!

Are you for real Tadd? This is great news! I can't wait for you to tell everyone.


Tadd looks down away from Big P’s eyes dramatically. Big P senses the over dramatics and looks down, himself.


I can’t make it public.


Tadd says low enough that only Big P could hear him. Likewise, Big P responds in the same fashion.


Why not?

Well, if I do that WereCure won't sell and I won't be rich anymore. You see, the cure for cancer is to become a Lycan. All we have to do is let Leena bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart, and he’ll be cured.


Tadd looks up with a smile acting like that conversation never took place. He notices Leena out of the corner of his eye still texting away on her phone talking to Petunia. Tadd begins to speak.


Okay, so, Leena, baby. Would you be so kind as to bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart?

WHAT!

Calm down. The cure for cancer has been under my nose this entire time. I created the cure for Lycanthropy I ran Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart’s blood with my cure WereCure and the cancer cells sped up so with my doctorate in medicine and science I believe that Lycanthropy is the cure for cancer and I’ll need your help to prove it.


Tadd looks at Hoggart’s clone awaiting an answer. There's a long and epically dramatic staredown with Tadd's hopeful eyes, and Hoggart's clone's eyes looking worried and terrified. Finally, Hoggart’s clone speaks.


I trust you, Tadd.


Tadd turns his attention to his stepmother, lover, and mother of his werewolf child and asks of her a simple request.


Leena, will you please bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart to save his life, and cure him of his cancer?


Leena is so turned on right now. She starts to rush in on Tadd but he blocks her.


This is serious, Leena. I need you, No, we all need you to bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart.


Leena has a hard time controlling her animal instincts but agrees.


Anything for you, darling.


He walks over to Hoggart's clone and takes a bite of his arm. Her teeth sink into his muscle and before her animal instincts take it any farther. Her jaw lets go of its grasp from Hoggart’s clone's arm. She wipes the blood from her mouth.


Honey, I’ve been meaning to tell you at any moment Petunia is going to be here.

What? At the lab? Why?


As soon a Tadd asks that question a dark and mysterious laugh could be heard from outside the door. The door, itself, after the laughter ends, is kicked open, and in walked two ninja cyborgs. Tadd and Big P immediately spring into action. Big P gives ninja cyborg number one a spinning back fist that cracks its head around one full time before its body hits the floor as Tadd Irish whips the second toward Big P. Once the ninja cyborg is close enough Big P lifts him vertically and out of nowhere Tadd launches himself airborne off a research table. Tadd, in the air, grabs the ninja cyborg's right foot and plants it onto the floor as Big P lands a vertical suplex.


RAINBOW LASER DEATH SEQUENCE!


The ninja cyborg’s destroyed in walks….





















HOGGART!

Yes, brother! It is I, your long-lost brother, Hoggart!

You're supposed to be dead!

I’ve been pretending to be Petunia online this whole time! Trying to get all of Leena’s werewolf secrets because of that now I know that Lycanthrope is the cure for cancer!


Everyone pauses dramatically. Somewhere on the island the same man who knew to dramatically pause. He can be seen dramatically paused, yet again, but this time he was mid-bite of soup.


I’ll be back for Leena and next time I’ll bring more than two ninja cyborgs!


Hoggart slowly walks toward the stunned people. Grabs Leena by her arm and calmly walks over to the door. She doesn't resist. Noone has still moved an inch as the real Hoggart, the man who played a woman on the internet, to gain information on Lycanthropy, walks calmly out the door with Leena. He makes it all the way down to the lobby before Hoggart's clone springs into action. With an incredible speed that can only be matched by Sarah Lackin out swimming a helicopter Hoggart's clone catches up with them and he punches the real Hoggart which releases his grasp of Leena's arm, knocking him out cold. Hoggart's clone then grabs Leena and they make their escape. Leena is running back to the lobby of the research facility Hoggart's clone looks back at the real Hoggart but this turns out to be a mistake because he's still in the middle of the road. Tadd and Big P are now down in the lobby with enough time to see Hoggart's clone get hit by a Coor's light truck. Instantly killing Hoggart's clone. Big P rushes out to the body of Hoggart's clone. The real Hoggart gets up, and runs off, making his escape from justice. Big P drops to his knees and shakes his fist in the air. As Big P looks up at the sky a crane shot begins to happen as Big P yells out.


NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!


[PAUSE]


**PREACH**






Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon are again caught on the set of their new film . Thunder Knuckles notices XWF cameras and immediately starts talking wasting no time. Unlike his opponents at March Madness who've said a whole lot of nothing since the begining.


Cuntinuum, look guys, you've done fucking well for yourselves, no shit. Both of you guys have done well for yourselves because you got a lot of fucking guys in XWF fooled. But you have two mother fucking bastards, standing right here, that aren't fucking fooled. Okay, I know, NO, WE know, there isn’t a fucking ounce of blood in your body we won't be willing to leave out on that canvas. We’re going to do un-fucking-speakable things to you two inside of that goddamn ring. This isn’t a fucking stand-up comedy show, It’s not a rom-com, it’s not a damn movie set. The goddamn marquee says professional rassling and if you want to find out where you actually stand in this fucking division, you come to March Madness, and you step into the fucking ring with my partner, Bobby mother fucking Bourbon, and my fucking self. You ask for the absolute best tag team in the world, Them No Good Bastards. Then you find out just how far from those gold belts you truly fucking are.


Thunder Knuckles smiles knowing he and Bobby Bourbon has not only eliminated the competition but they've made these non-ranked amateurs their bitches.


March 28th, is going to be the last day you see Continuum ranked. They were too fucking sure of themselves to take the basic goddamn precautions to remain that way. That’s the fucking truth. When they start to bitch, or start to play their same tired song and goddamn dance, just look at them and say: “Well, Thunder Knuckles warned you. Bobby Bourbon warned you. Them No Good Bastards fucking warned you.” It’ll sure turn at least one of them inside out. The other will go on to have a successful singles career. While the other plasters themselves all over the airwaves with nothing to say to try to remain relevant. That’s why a guy like Duke needs a guy like Paul Heyman. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says. At least Paul's villainy makes sense.


Thunder Knuckles gives a half-hearted, but better than what he did for Corey in a previously recorded promo, jerking-off hand gesture.


Like Ol' Thunder Knuckles said earlier you have a lot of mother fucker fool. Then again, a lot of mother fuckers in the back are coming out and saying Them No Good Bastards are going off script, boys. What they're saying is Cuntinuum is on the ropes. We already fucking knew. They can't keep up with this kind of savage pressure.


Thunder KNuckles looks into the camera to address the boys directly.


You fuckers are used to people getting intimated but we're not going to be bullied. Ha! By these two little shit stains, that can't even grow fucking facial hair? Shut the fuck up. We fucking knew you were back-peddling from the time Corey posted his second Recorded Promo to XWF's video database with Duke in it. Then it was one hundred percent confirmed when Thad dropped his Recorded Promo. You little bitches are going to serve as a fucking warning. No matter who comes, what they bring, we're going to kill them all.


Thunder Knuckles isn't stepping off the gas now.


Corey's bringing his best Morbid Angel defense but what he doesn't fucking realized because the kid is fucking as dense as a fucking brick. Ol' Thunder Knuckles learns something every time he comes out. With that said, Corey picture this, ya sparkling fuck, If Cuntinuum was the goddamn Golden Girls. Doc would be Sophia, Duke would be Blanch because he’s a slut, that only leaves two and you’re no fucking Dorthy. Make no mistake Corey who's arm was a millisecond from pinning you. So you're little shit trying to say Bobby would have gotten the pin. You're as full of shit as you were at Snow JOb. You should have considered permanent retirement mother fucker because now you're only hurting whatever chance of being remembered for anything more than a vessel of better competitors.


Thunder Knuckles tags in Bobby Bourbon because he left a bowl of lukewarm Continuum out for Bobby to munch on.


Well, well, well, looks like I gotta chew up even more airtime giving Continuum some sense of relevance in the universe, so here goes.


Thunder Knuckles smiles knowing Bobby's about to smack some bitches.


Thad and Corey are Target employee white bois.

Thad and Corey were originally going to call themselves Cardigan, Sweater, and Hoodie along with Doc but realized that made a dumber t-shirt than something Mastermind would make.

Speaking of fucking T-shirts, Bobby. XWF fans around the world can pick up their very own TNGB stain-proof T-Shirt! Only on the fucking XSHOP, baby!


[Image: OUrWO8g.png]



For a reasonable TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED XBUX!

Thad and Corey share bunk beds. Doc has the top bunk.

They're totally spooning.

Thad and Corey coordinate their sock wardrobe together.

Weird but whatever.


Bobby takes his right hand and makes it look like it's talking during the blah-blahs.


Blah, blah, blah, can't really say much else about Thad and Corey. Not much to talk about when it comes to Continuum.

Thunder Knuckles smirks and gives a quick jerking-off hand gesture because he knows Bobby just splooged all over Continuum.


I mean, sure, I've been railing against Thad and Corey so hard they've gotten cases of the cripple-tongue, but them as a team, what can anyone accurately say? They've held the titles for a while, were a freak attraction with D'Ville and Corey that rode on the coattails of Thad's champion reign as a means to try to keep the big mean Bourbon man away, so instead, I targeted the men you HID behind, Thad.

Not like they fucking had anything to fucking say anyway. We've dictated every goddamn thing they've done, so far. You're talking to two bastards with golden tounges and a knack for fucking up weak upper lipped, mother fuckers.These two are no fucking different

Hiya Corey, don't know why anyone would hide behind you. I would stand right in front of you in a game of Marco Polo and dare you to touch me. Shit, you gave me hell in the past but today you're fucking less Rubic's Cube, more Play-Doh. Sure, kinda fun in the start, but you kind of mold yourself into something stupid and dry up and are left just a vibrant cyan turd. Acting like there isn't shit to say about you, and that's why it's unsaid yet? You silly goose, this is act five, you're still a bit behind me last I checked.

Because Duke thinks hiding is a better option. For fucks sake, Bobby, the last time he held a title. He stunk up the joint so bad someone smoking a joint took him out. He can talk about Page all he wants but like I said before he won't do himself any goddamn favors. It's his time to waste. I get it though, it's the only thing the dumb mother fucker has material on. Let's face it. I feel bad for him.


Thunder Knuckles laughs and gives the middle finger.



Just kidding, mother fucker. I don't feel bad one fucking bit. My bad big guy. Have at it.


Thunder Knuckles takes his hand and motions for Bobby to continue because he's been interrupting.


Heh, in terms of appearances and being on TV. For this match. Otherwise, blowing you out of the water. See, this is like a massive naval battle, and Thad brought out all his G.I. Joes, and I know you don't want to play with his army men with him but give it a thought, but you and his G.I. Joes go out in your big boats to the ocean. You cruise right in when wha-BAM!


Bobby claps his hands together making a thunderous clapping sound.


A torpedo just sinks a boat! Then another ship goes down! You're eating torpedoes like sitting ducks, and by the time you finally tracked the submarine in the seas, the U.S.S. Bastardly has already sent its final payload, the big one, the mother of all bombs, the crucible which will end your tag team championship run, and Thad's fleet of war vessels in one fell swoop. The Rainbow Laser Death Sequence!

And yes, I will hype the move.


Bobby winks into the camera just like Thunder Knuckles. Their characteristics are blending forming the ultimate tag team.


Give us a dissertation on it.

Corey is not what he used to be, and that is a fact. Is he a changed man, a better person, I don't know, I only speak for his ability to basically face off against newcomers on Savage and avoid really growing that singles career of his. Dude, seriously, the money match is against your own teammate, don't be foolish.

That's basically the only fucking option Thad's going to have left after March Madness. I mean, he could just commit to the jobber life, I guess.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs exactly .001 second longer than Warstien would so he's not sued by L.I.E.


Not Thad. But, hey, you're afraid of the Big Bad Doc so much you squatted under his umbrella so he could cast all the shade he wanted on you while you waited to ride another name to prominence. Not Lux, not Engy, but this time Louis D'Ville.

Tsk tsk, Corey. That's the lazy route.

Let's fucking face. That's the only Corey who's been here since returning. Non-note-taking mother fucker. Spitting the same tired shit he would say last year. Nothing fucking new, not evolving, I know it's not easy to stay with the times.

I could have nestled up under Doc's scaly wing long ago.

You didn't need to, Bobby. That's why you're ranked seventh all-time while neither of these basic, bland-ass, mother fucker's aren't even fucking ranked. They need Doc's wing, they need a fucking Alias because they can't get the fucking job done anymore, not by themselves, fuck no. I'm sure they'll bring up DDS again but like we said. We ain't fucking DDS. We got more fucking bite.


Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon give a no-look fist bump that they are slowly making famous.


And what a ride it's been. Now though, the ride ends. You've had your journey, you've taken those Tag Team Champion belts as far as you can, and hey, you really had a stretch with them, four whole months is nothing to sneeze at, and in a month or two when you're facing some fucking throwback who hasn't wrestled in the XWF in over a decade you can even tell them about how you were tag team champion in one of your promos! Y'know, really get under their skin and psyche them out.

Scare the old men, Corey! They need to be terrified and you need someone you can scare.


Bobby points to his head. Thunder Knuckles turns his back knowing he won't speak again.


You've tried to beat your way into here before using brute force, Corey, you aren't getting in my head anywhere near as much as I am you though. You think you're treading lightly hoping for some mercies, or you just have nothing to say, either way, you're pretty much a dipshit for it.

I'm too spicy for you, so you start to gag and make funny faces, so afraid of being made fun of for being dramatic you got made fun of for being super weird at being fun. You put the fork down, but you've bitten into it now, that heat isn't just settling in it's a lingerer and potent too. Burn. You feel the world tense up as some infernal spawn of the Carolina Reaper and the Ghost Pepper tears into you, burning your whole insides as the tears well up. You're not just in pain, you're embarrassed, you couldn't handle the snack food and now you're going up on Twitter in posts as the dork who tried to tackle a challenge but bit off more than he could chew.


Bobby Bourbon spits on the ground at that notion.


Fuck, dude, even if Doc were here to cover your ass it wouldn't do you a damn bit of good the fucking roll my partner and me have been on. He saw the writing on the wall and went after the March Madness tournament. Now THERE is a man who is actually having a singles career we can give a fuck about. Not the downward spiral dumpster fire that Thad is riding, and no, the both of you losing to the both of us isn't rock bottom for the boy. We're on the rise, we're meeting somewhere in the middle.

That's the long and short of it, isn't it? You've coasted and had fun, zipped around bends and through loops, screaming all along the ride you've been on, but the rollercoaster is pulling back into the station, it's time to get off the ride and go buy yourselves a souvenir photo of when you were having a thrill. Maybe go to get yourself an overpriced lemonade, or find something else in the amusement park. Sculpt those incredible singles careers into something closer that you both claim them to be at the moment.


Bobby Bourbon turns his back to the camera. At the same time, both of Them No Good Bastards raise their right fists into the air as the scene fades to black.
]]>



The stories of our lives unfold, overdramatically, in every which way.


THE CURE FOR CANCER!


Still aboard The Arantxa Sanchez Vicario, Tadd’s pirate ship with thrusters attached so it can fly into space if need be. In the exact moment, we left off where Big P looks at Hoggart dramatically. Hoggart looks at Tadd dramatically. Tadd looks at Hoggart, then Big P, then Hoggart dramatically. Leena approaches and puts her hand around Tadd's waist. Since the boat has been moving, now some 199 nautical miles away, on the island, the same dude is looking off dramatically.


Everything’s going to be okay Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart.

I hope so.

You may, or may not be aware, but we’ve come pretty close to the cure for cancer. With ME, Dr. Tadd Poop Esquire, at the helm of research.


The way Tadd says this all matter of factly, turns Leena on. You can tell by the way she's panting like a dog. Tadd looks lovingly into the eyes of his werewolf, lover, stepmother, and mother of his werewolf son and says.


Don’t worry Leena we will cure Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart, for Big P’s sake. Big P we have to get back to land!


Big P gets up and walks to the bridge of the ship and begins to navigate back to the land which at this point is only 201 nautical miles away. With this and his knowledge of the law and rocket science. Big P turns the thrusters on the Arantxa Sanchez Vicario long enough to rocket them just off the coast of California.


Well, that was convenient.

I knew thrusters on a pirate ship would come in handy.


Big P warmly smiles a Tadd.


You know, everyone thought you were crazy. They all said the ship would fall apart, but no it held up, and here we are in no time, whatsoever! You were right!

I know.

Now what?

Now we have to get Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart back to my lab. You get him off the ship and head over me and Leena will head that way.


Big P walks in and gathers Hoggart’s clone and their things and heads over to Tadd’s research facility. Tadd does the same thing except he’s trying to gather up Leena. Leena, who’s been panting since Tadd made that super sexy speech. Where he sounded confident and without worry. Nothing turns a woman on like a confident man. She pounces soft low key romantic music plays, heavy breathing, groping, and the sounds of spit being transferred from mouth to mouth can be heard. Random things are being knocked over. The camera pans away as they begin to dry hump. Very very classy stuff. The camera once panned away from some tender Tadd and Leena loving it fades to Big P and Hoggart who have arrived at the research facility.


Do you think this is going to hurt?

I don’t know. I sure hope not for your sake.


The clone of Hoggart looks sad at the thought this might hurt. About 2 hours pass. It takes one hour and fifty-five minutes from the marina to the research facility. Finally, Tadd and Leena make it to the facility.


Hey, Tadd-

Dr. Tadd.


Tadd intensely looks at Hoggart's clone.


Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart, I didn’t go through 8 years of medical school to be called less by someone who wasn't even born.


Big P looks sad because he is reminded once again that, this Hoggart, isn’t his long-lost brother.


It’s alright Big P. We’re only going to take more samples of his blood again.


A familiar ping sound could be heard. Leena looks down at her phone and begins to message back whoever is on the other end.


Who’s that sweetheart?

It’s Petunia.

Oh, good dear, have a good time talk about… Uhm… Female stuff.


Tadd extracts some more of the clone of Hoggart’s blood. After getting his sample he whisks it away into his lab.


If only WereCure didn't take off! We were so close to a cure for cancer!


Dr. Tadd begins to think when suddenly hit with a stroke of genius. He takes the clone of Hoggart’s blood sample and puts it in a petri dish and mixes some of WereCure into it. The cancer is spreading at a rapid rate. Faster than anything Tadd has ever seen. Tadd yells out.


I'VE DONE IT!!!! I'VE FOUND THE CURE FOR CANCER!


Tadd begins to run into the room scream the same thing he’s been screaming all the way down the hallways like a mad man.


I'VE DONE IT GUYS! I'VE DONE IT!


Everyone pauses in silence waiting dramatically for Tad to tell them what he’s done. The theme music is playing. When your regularly scheduled program is interrupted by a commercial break.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A man in a cowboy hat, red flannel, khaki pants with giant belt buckle, and aviator sunglasses is shown on your screen.


Crazy Fawker here from Crazy Fawker's Used Auto! Where we’re kicking the competition in the fucking nuts. They want four grand for a car.


Crazy Fawker walks up and kicks a guy in the nuts.


Hell, No! Two grand tops! We got Chevys. We've got Fords. Hell, ask for my wife, she’ll probably be cooking some beans! What’s that you say, They don’t have all the bells and whistles?


Crazy Fawker walks up and kicks an old lady in the box.


We don’t discriminate against women either, we'll get you the bells and the whistles! So come on down to Crazy Fawker’s Used Auto's car lot and find yourself a ball baster of a deal guaranteed!


The commercial fades back to dramatic events you left off with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The theme music is playing. Everyone still paused in silence waiting dramatically for Tad to tell them what he’s done. Finally, the silence has been broken.


I HAVE THE CURE FOR CANCER!


The clone of Hoggart seems pleased.


Does that mean I can be cured today?

It sure does my friend!

Are you for real Tadd? This is great news! I can't wait for you to tell everyone.


Tadd looks down away from Big P’s eyes dramatically. Big P senses the over dramatics and looks down, himself.


I can’t make it public.


Tadd says low enough that only Big P could hear him. Likewise, Big P responds in the same fashion.


Why not?

Well, if I do that WereCure won't sell and I won't be rich anymore. You see, the cure for cancer is to become a Lycan. All we have to do is let Leena bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart, and he’ll be cured.


Tadd looks up with a smile acting like that conversation never took place. He notices Leena out of the corner of his eye still texting away on her phone talking to Petunia. Tadd begins to speak.


Okay, so, Leena, baby. Would you be so kind as to bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart?

WHAT!

Calm down. The cure for cancer has been under my nose this entire time. I created the cure for Lycanthropy I ran Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart’s blood with my cure WereCure and the cancer cells sped up so with my doctorate in medicine and science I believe that Lycanthropy is the cure for cancer and I’ll need your help to prove it.


Tadd looks at Hoggart’s clone awaiting an answer. There's a long and epically dramatic staredown with Tadd's hopeful eyes, and Hoggart's clone's eyes looking worried and terrified. Finally, Hoggart’s clone speaks.


I trust you, Tadd.


Tadd turns his attention to his stepmother, lover, and mother of his werewolf child and asks of her a simple request.


Leena, will you please bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart to save his life, and cure him of his cancer?


Leena is so turned on right now. She starts to rush in on Tadd but he blocks her.


This is serious, Leena. I need you, No, we all need you to bite Hoggart, the clone of Hoggart.


Leena has a hard time controlling her animal instincts but agrees.


Anything for you, darling.


He walks over to Hoggart's clone and takes a bite of his arm. Her teeth sink into his muscle and before her animal instincts take it any farther. Her jaw lets go of its grasp from Hoggart’s clone's arm. She wipes the blood from her mouth.


Honey, I’ve been meaning to tell you at any moment Petunia is going to be here.

What? At the lab? Why?


As soon a Tadd asks that question a dark and mysterious laugh could be heard from outside the door. The door, itself, after the laughter ends, is kicked open, and in walked two ninja cyborgs. Tadd and Big P immediately spring into action. Big P gives ninja cyborg number one a spinning back fist that cracks its head around one full time before its body hits the floor as Tadd Irish whips the second toward Big P. Once the ninja cyborg is close enough Big P lifts him vertically and out of nowhere Tadd launches himself airborne off a research table. Tadd, in the air, grabs the ninja cyborg's right foot and plants it onto the floor as Big P lands a vertical suplex.


RAINBOW LASER DEATH SEQUENCE!


The ninja cyborg’s destroyed in walks….





















HOGGART!

Yes, brother! It is I, your long-lost brother, Hoggart!

You're supposed to be dead!

I’ve been pretending to be Petunia online this whole time! Trying to get all of Leena’s werewolf secrets because of that now I know that Lycanthrope is the cure for cancer!


Everyone pauses dramatically. Somewhere on the island the same man who knew to dramatically pause. He can be seen dramatically paused, yet again, but this time he was mid-bite of soup.


I’ll be back for Leena and next time I’ll bring more than two ninja cyborgs!


Hoggart slowly walks toward the stunned people. Grabs Leena by her arm and calmly walks over to the door. She doesn't resist. Noone has still moved an inch as the real Hoggart, the man who played a woman on the internet, to gain information on Lycanthropy, walks calmly out the door with Leena. He makes it all the way down to the lobby before Hoggart's clone springs into action. With an incredible speed that can only be matched by Sarah Lackin out swimming a helicopter Hoggart's clone catches up with them and he punches the real Hoggart which releases his grasp of Leena's arm, knocking him out cold. Hoggart's clone then grabs Leena and they make their escape. Leena is running back to the lobby of the research facility Hoggart's clone looks back at the real Hoggart but this turns out to be a mistake because he's still in the middle of the road. Tadd and Big P are now down in the lobby with enough time to see Hoggart's clone get hit by a Coor's light truck. Instantly killing Hoggart's clone. Big P rushes out to the body of Hoggart's clone. The real Hoggart gets up, and runs off, making his escape from justice. Big P drops to his knees and shakes his fist in the air. As Big P looks up at the sky a crane shot begins to happen as Big P yells out.


NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!


[PAUSE]


**PREACH**






Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon are again caught on the set of their new film . Thunder Knuckles notices XWF cameras and immediately starts talking wasting no time. Unlike his opponents at March Madness who've said a whole lot of nothing since the begining.


Cuntinuum, look guys, you've done fucking well for yourselves, no shit. Both of you guys have done well for yourselves because you got a lot of fucking guys in XWF fooled. But you have two mother fucking bastards, standing right here, that aren't fucking fooled. Okay, I know, NO, WE know, there isn’t a fucking ounce of blood in your body we won't be willing to leave out on that canvas. We’re going to do un-fucking-speakable things to you two inside of that goddamn ring. This isn’t a fucking stand-up comedy show, It’s not a rom-com, it’s not a damn movie set. The goddamn marquee says professional rassling and if you want to find out where you actually stand in this fucking division, you come to March Madness, and you step into the fucking ring with my partner, Bobby mother fucking Bourbon, and my fucking self. You ask for the absolute best tag team in the world, Them No Good Bastards. Then you find out just how far from those gold belts you truly fucking are.


Thunder Knuckles smiles knowing he and Bobby Bourbon has not only eliminated the competition but they've made these non-ranked amateurs their bitches.


March 28th, is going to be the last day you see Continuum ranked. They were too fucking sure of themselves to take the basic goddamn precautions to remain that way. That’s the fucking truth. When they start to bitch, or start to play their same tired song and goddamn dance, just look at them and say: “Well, Thunder Knuckles warned you. Bobby Bourbon warned you. Them No Good Bastards fucking warned you.” It’ll sure turn at least one of them inside out. The other will go on to have a successful singles career. While the other plasters themselves all over the airwaves with nothing to say to try to remain relevant. That’s why a guy like Duke needs a guy like Paul Heyman. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says. At least Paul's villainy makes sense.


Thunder Knuckles gives a half-hearted, but better than what he did for Corey in a previously recorded promo, jerking-off hand gesture.


Like Ol' Thunder Knuckles said earlier you have a lot of mother fucker fool. Then again, a lot of mother fuckers in the back are coming out and saying Them No Good Bastards are going off script, boys. What they're saying is Cuntinuum is on the ropes. We already fucking knew. They can't keep up with this kind of savage pressure.


Thunder KNuckles looks into the camera to address the boys directly.


You fuckers are used to people getting intimated but we're not going to be bullied. Ha! By these two little shit stains, that can't even grow fucking facial hair? Shut the fuck up. We fucking knew you were back-peddling from the time Corey posted his second Recorded Promo to XWF's video database with Duke in it. Then it was one hundred percent confirmed when Thad dropped his Recorded Promo. You little bitches are going to serve as a fucking warning. No matter who comes, what they bring, we're going to kill them all.


Thunder Knuckles isn't stepping off the gas now.


Corey's bringing his best Morbid Angel defense but what he doesn't fucking realized because the kid is fucking as dense as a fucking brick. Ol' Thunder Knuckles learns something every time he comes out. With that said, Corey picture this, ya sparkling fuck, If Cuntinuum was the goddamn Golden Girls. Doc would be Sophia, Duke would be Blanch because he’s a slut, that only leaves two and you’re no fucking Dorthy. Make no mistake Corey who's arm was a millisecond from pinning you. So you're little shit trying to say Bobby would have gotten the pin. You're as full of shit as you were at Snow JOb. You should have considered permanent retirement mother fucker because now you're only hurting whatever chance of being remembered for anything more than a vessel of better competitors.


Thunder Knuckles tags in Bobby Bourbon because he left a bowl of lukewarm Continuum out for Bobby to munch on.


Well, well, well, looks like I gotta chew up even more airtime giving Continuum some sense of relevance in the universe, so here goes.


Thunder Knuckles smiles knowing Bobby's about to smack some bitches.


Thad and Corey are Target employee white bois.

Thad and Corey were originally going to call themselves Cardigan, Sweater, and Hoodie along with Doc but realized that made a dumber t-shirt than something Mastermind would make.

Speaking of fucking T-shirts, Bobby. XWF fans around the world can pick up their very own TNGB stain-proof T-Shirt! Only on the fucking XSHOP, baby!


[Image: OUrWO8g.png]



For a reasonable TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED XBUX!

Thad and Corey share bunk beds. Doc has the top bunk.

They're totally spooning.

Thad and Corey coordinate their sock wardrobe together.

Weird but whatever.


Bobby takes his right hand and makes it look like it's talking during the blah-blahs.


Blah, blah, blah, can't really say much else about Thad and Corey. Not much to talk about when it comes to Continuum.

Thunder Knuckles smirks and gives a quick jerking-off hand gesture because he knows Bobby just splooged all over Continuum.


I mean, sure, I've been railing against Thad and Corey so hard they've gotten cases of the cripple-tongue, but them as a team, what can anyone accurately say? They've held the titles for a while, were a freak attraction with D'Ville and Corey that rode on the coattails of Thad's champion reign as a means to try to keep the big mean Bourbon man away, so instead, I targeted the men you HID behind, Thad.

Not like they fucking had anything to fucking say anyway. We've dictated every goddamn thing they've done, so far. You're talking to two bastards with golden tounges and a knack for fucking up weak upper lipped, mother fuckers.These two are no fucking different

Hiya Corey, don't know why anyone would hide behind you. I would stand right in front of you in a game of Marco Polo and dare you to touch me. Shit, you gave me hell in the past but today you're fucking less Rubic's Cube, more Play-Doh. Sure, kinda fun in the start, but you kind of mold yourself into something stupid and dry up and are left just a vibrant cyan turd. Acting like there isn't shit to say about you, and that's why it's unsaid yet? You silly goose, this is act five, you're still a bit behind me last I checked.

Because Duke thinks hiding is a better option. For fucks sake, Bobby, the last time he held a title. He stunk up the joint so bad someone smoking a joint took him out. He can talk about Page all he wants but like I said before he won't do himself any goddamn favors. It's his time to waste. I get it though, it's the only thing the dumb mother fucker has material on. Let's face it. I feel bad for him.


Thunder Knuckles laughs and gives the middle finger.



Just kidding, mother fucker. I don't feel bad one fucking bit. My bad big guy. Have at it.


Thunder Knuckles takes his hand and motions for Bobby to continue because he's been interrupting.


Heh, in terms of appearances and being on TV. For this match. Otherwise, blowing you out of the water. See, this is like a massive naval battle, and Thad brought out all his G.I. Joes, and I know you don't want to play with his army men with him but give it a thought, but you and his G.I. Joes go out in your big boats to the ocean. You cruise right in when wha-BAM!


Bobby claps his hands together making a thunderous clapping sound.


A torpedo just sinks a boat! Then another ship goes down! You're eating torpedoes like sitting ducks, and by the time you finally tracked the submarine in the seas, the U.S.S. Bastardly has already sent its final payload, the big one, the mother of all bombs, the crucible which will end your tag team championship run, and Thad's fleet of war vessels in one fell swoop. The Rainbow Laser Death Sequence!

And yes, I will hype the move.


Bobby winks into the camera just like Thunder Knuckles. Their characteristics are blending forming the ultimate tag team.


Give us a dissertation on it.

Corey is not what he used to be, and that is a fact. Is he a changed man, a better person, I don't know, I only speak for his ability to basically face off against newcomers on Savage and avoid really growing that singles career of his. Dude, seriously, the money match is against your own teammate, don't be foolish.

That's basically the only fucking option Thad's going to have left after March Madness. I mean, he could just commit to the jobber life, I guess.


Thunder Knuckles shrugs exactly .001 second longer than Warstien would so he's not sued by L.I.E.


Not Thad. But, hey, you're afraid of the Big Bad Doc so much you squatted under his umbrella so he could cast all the shade he wanted on you while you waited to ride another name to prominence. Not Lux, not Engy, but this time Louis D'Ville.

Tsk tsk, Corey. That's the lazy route.

Let's fucking face. That's the only Corey who's been here since returning. Non-note-taking mother fucker. Spitting the same tired shit he would say last year. Nothing fucking new, not evolving, I know it's not easy to stay with the times.

I could have nestled up under Doc's scaly wing long ago.

You didn't need to, Bobby. That's why you're ranked seventh all-time while neither of these basic, bland-ass, mother fucker's aren't even fucking ranked. They need Doc's wing, they need a fucking Alias because they can't get the fucking job done anymore, not by themselves, fuck no. I'm sure they'll bring up DDS again but like we said. We ain't fucking DDS. We got more fucking bite.


Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Bourbon give a no-look fist bump that they are slowly making famous.


And what a ride it's been. Now though, the ride ends. You've had your journey, you've taken those Tag Team Champion belts as far as you can, and hey, you really had a stretch with them, four whole months is nothing to sneeze at, and in a month or two when you're facing some fucking throwback who hasn't wrestled in the XWF in over a decade you can even tell them about how you were tag team champion in one of your promos! Y'know, really get under their skin and psyche them out.

Scare the old men, Corey! They need to be terrified and you need someone you can scare.


Bobby points to his head. Thunder Knuckles turns his back knowing he won't speak again.


You've tried to beat your way into here before using brute force, Corey, you aren't getting in my head anywhere near as much as I am you though. You think you're treading lightly hoping for some mercies, or you just have nothing to say, either way, you're pretty much a dipshit for it.

I'm too spicy for you, so you start to gag and make funny faces, so afraid of being made fun of for being dramatic you got made fun of for being super weird at being fun. You put the fork down, but you've bitten into it now, that heat isn't just settling in it's a lingerer and potent too. Burn. You feel the world tense up as some infernal spawn of the Carolina Reaper and the Ghost Pepper tears into you, burning your whole insides as the tears well up. You're not just in pain, you're embarrassed, you couldn't handle the snack food and now you're going up on Twitter in posts as the dork who tried to tackle a challenge but bit off more than he could chew.


Bobby Bourbon spits on the ground at that notion.


Fuck, dude, even if Doc were here to cover your ass it wouldn't do you a damn bit of good the fucking roll my partner and me have been on. He saw the writing on the wall and went after the March Madness tournament. Now THERE is a man who is actually having a singles career we can give a fuck about. Not the downward spiral dumpster fire that Thad is riding, and no, the both of you losing to the both of us isn't rock bottom for the boy. We're on the rise, we're meeting somewhere in the middle.

That's the long and short of it, isn't it? You've coasted and had fun, zipped around bends and through loops, screaming all along the ride you've been on, but the rollercoaster is pulling back into the station, it's time to get off the ride and go buy yourselves a souvenir photo of when you were having a thrill. Maybe go to get yourself an overpriced lemonade, or find something else in the amusement park. Sculpt those incredible singles careers into something closer that you both claim them to be at the moment.


Bobby Bourbon turns his back to the camera. At the same time, both of Them No Good Bastards raise their right fists into the air as the scene fades to black.
]]> <![CDATA[HEART - The March of Madness IV]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40273 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 21:09:16 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40273

Take a step back and look around. We are less than twenty-four hours from one of the biggest events of the year and you know what's funny? I feel like it's already behind us, my friends. The attitudes, the emotions... Everything going into this feels like I've already been crowned your glorious KING and everyone around already swallowed the pill. I will say, for an Elite 8, as in, the best of the best, you all conceded pretty easily.

You all basically sat there for an entire week and told the world how much you respect the good old Doc and how much of a bummer it is that things ended up the way it did. Betsy would have loved to face and eliminate me in an earlier round. Join the club, darling. I'm sure there's a line as long as Warstein's ego of people with the same wish as you. Solace Tatum gives me the same vibes. It's like being at party and not recognizing anyone and feeling real out of place. Neither Betsy OR Tatum belong here. But I'll give credit where credit is due. Solace Tatum is a solid member of Anarchy. You can catch that show on the internet or usually between the hours of 2am and 3am on weekends on one of the Turner networks. I heard it ain't bad. Betsy's had a good run. I think she came into this situation with a little too high of hopes though. No one told her about me. I don't believe it took very long for her to learn though.

Now, speaking of those that don't belong, the Second Chance Battle Royal! XWF's super secret special way to punish those with enough heart to come back for more! How many times do I have to punish Demos before the guy is a good little nothing and just goes away? I'll give the guy credit, too, he doesn't know or just refuses to quit. Good for him, he'll get familiarized again with that brick wall soon enough. Whether he meets it again when he's eliminated from the Royale or he actually makes it all the way to the final boss, he's walking away with what he hopes JUST his worthless Television Title. If he was smart, which he's proving to us more and more that he's not, he would've placed his focus on the only scrap of worthiness he has left around here.

We had some late bloomers, too! Andre Dixon, brought in by one of these legends that I've personally never heard of, to build onto a family legacy that was left behind for them. Well, that's pretty neat. See, here's the thing about legacies around here. Did you see the Elite 8? Yeah. That's one legacy, that if it doesn't tear itself apart, I will once whatever remanence of it pulls themselves from the ashes. Or tears. However they're going to do it. Bottom line is, sir, I watched one of my fellows from Continuum mop the floor with you the other day, and the kid looks up to me like I'm his mentor. So, what you're walking into is nothing like your unfortunate debut, but something far worse. If you care anything for that legacy of yours or continuing your career here in this FINE federation, I suggest you let Demos take the fall on this one and just walk away before you get hurt.


Doc rests against a wall on the ledge of a cliff nearing the peak of the mountain. Through the wind and snow, the forest and swamp below can barely be seen, but Doc’s entire journey laid before him like a dirty, snowy picture. What a view it would be if the weather was more cooperative. Doc is battered and bruised from his battle earlier, moreso his beating, and gimps along the now narrow path towards another small entrance to a cave. His footing slips and he nearly falls from the edge, but he catches himself. Taking a couple deep breaths he creeps inside and finds shelter from the violent weather.

Rubbing his hands together Doc manages to create a small flame within the palm of his hand. Upon noticing a path within the small space he decides to follow it, using his little guiding light to barely see while his free hand feels the wall as he goes. Doc’s head throbs and his bones ache, making the tiny, careful steps far more difficult.

He follows the path to its end and finds himself deep within the mountain now. It opens up and the walls are actually lined with torches every so often to light the way. Doc turns a corner and finds himself at another fork in his road. One path leading left and one leading right. He sighs and pulls his cigar pack from his pocket, but he’s fresh out of cigars. Poor Doc sighs and tosses the empty pack down onto the ground.

Litter bug.

Doc jumps as he walks right by Vinnie the Goat without even realizing it. The beast rises up, grabs the empty pack, and gives it a sniff.

Tsk, tsk, Dawk. Don’t be trashin’ my mountain.

Doc, a bit stifled now, crosses his eyes and looks down at the creature.

My apologies, sir.

This is my home.

Yes, I understand.

Do I come into your place of residence and throw garbage around?

I wouldn’t know if you did.

All I’m saying is---

Shh!

Vinnie freezes and his goat ears perk up.

What?

SHHH!!!

Vinnie stands there as Doc looks back and forth between the two paths. The goat boy hops over and looks back and forth between them too.

I like the lef---

Doc grabs Vinnie by the throat and picks him up into the air.

I said be quiet!

The little beast gulps through Doc’s grip and nods in surrender. Doc releases him and pats him on the head before studying the two paths again. Vinnie gimps over like he’s a maimed puppy dog and watches Doc pace back and forth. He watches and watches until Doc finally stops and looks down at him.

Alright what is it?

You tell me, Dawk. It looks like you’re having trouble deciding which way to go. You know who knows which way to go?

Doc sighs and lets his head hang down from his shoulders.

The last time you gave me directions it ended up hurting very much

That was a misunderstanding! Look, we’re facing the same way now!

Vinnie takes a spin and stands next to Doc.

Okay? Right!

Doc hesitantly turns towards the path to the right and allows Vinnie to take a few crazy hops ahead where he steps on a pressure point in the floor. Several arrows shoot across the one side of the hall to the other and stick in the wall. Lucky for Doc, he was tying his shoe at the time.

Woah, sorry! Forgot about that.

What Doc has come to realize is that he’s in some kind of labyrinth within the mountain. He’s followed the goat thus far, it seems confident in its path, but can he trust it? Relying on this beast before nearly cost him his entire journey. What was waste this would have been.

The beast never hesitates with each turn and acts as if it has solved this puzzle a million times. Doc struggles to keep up now; every turn he makes he sees just a glimpse of the goat before it cuts another corner.

Slow down!

Doc comes around a corner and finds himself facing five.

Goat?! Where are you?!

Doc stands alone with another difficult decision ahead of him. It’s already been proven that certain paths aren’t the best and you apparently even have to watch your step in some areas. A heavy breeze pushes him forward and the cave begins to shake around him.

Oh NOW what….

He loses his footing and falls to the ground losing the contents of his pockets. The little golden compass falls from his pocket and a bell rings in his head.

Okay, girl… Let’s see if your gift is as useful as you claim it could be.

Doc picks it up, closes his eyes, and opens it. When he opened them back up, the goat-looking nuisance was face to face with him eyeing up the compass.

Whatcha got there, Dawk?

Doc is startled once again by the beast and pulls the compass and himself away. He looks down at it and sees the arrow pointing down one of the paths; supposedly leading Doc to the peak where he desires to be.

What’s that, huh? It’s nice! Can I see it?

Back off, critter.

Doc walks past the little beast and follows the arrow towards the path, but stops when he hears a deep growl behind him. He turns around to see that the little annoying beast has changed, morphed, mutated into a giant goat monster! Kind of like a minotaur, but a goat head! IT’S HIDEOUS!! It roars at Doc like t-rex and charges him with his horns! Doc leaps out of the way at the last second and the beast goes head first into the entrance of the path Doc was heading for and caves it in!

Awe!! Look what you did!!

Give me the compass, DAWK!

IT WAS A GIFT!

The beast charges and again Doc dodges! Monster Vinnie screeches to a halt and turns around! Doc holds the compass and feels his heart grow five sizes! He pulls a rock through the air and smashes it into the beast's face! It staggers, but shakes it off and continues the charge! Doc throws several other rocks, but the beast meets each one with a fist, shattering them! Doc is unable to move and is gored by the monster and hits hard against the rubble from the cave-in!

Monster Vinnie grabs Doc by his collar and lifts him up. Doc can feel his hand holding the compass begin to swell up like a balloon. He looks down and its as big as the beast's head! Doc swings and knocks it silly! It lets him go and Doc hits a straight shot in the gut causing it to wheeze and stumble back! Doc continues to beat the thing's face in until he climbs up on it, grabs it by the horns, and rips his head clean off!! Doc roars out through the cave with his own war cry and lets the blood of his kill pour down over his body. He screams and screams until he realizes he’s the only one there and throws the head down onto the ground. He looks himself over, fixes his collar, and steps away from the beast.

Looking over the blocked path, Doc pulls the compass back out from his pocket and sees the direction it pointed before has changed. His eyes light up and he follows it to the first one on the far left. His left, not yours.

Doc follows it for a while, but nothing is what it seems in this place. The path is dark and as he goes he feels less leery and more just wanting to get out of there. His pace quickened, which made him less cautious and led him to find another one of those pressure points on the floor. Like stepping into a pile of dog doo, he knew immediately. There’s a loud thud above him then like in a bowling alley he hears a loud rumble until a giant boulder falls from the ceiling and begins rolling towards him. Doc, no better than he was before getting thrown around by a giant goat monster, does his best running impression away from his new attacker. A miracle happens and a shimmer of light can be seen in the distance. Doc hobbles his way towards it, slowly losing ground to the giant rock. He reaches the end and jumps without looking, but luckily grabs a tree root hanging down which swings him around away from the hole and smacking into the face of the cliff. The boulder rolls out of the hole and falls into a foggy, bottomless, abyss.

Hanging from the root, Doc observes the side of the cliff and sees five different holes including the one he emerged from. Each path led to this exact spot. How clever.

Doc manages to slowly pull himself up and claws onto the ledge. He looks and sees that he’s just a few steps away now from the place that he’s ventured so very far for… The air is thin and calm now, as if any storm or nasty weather is below him. The path in front of him is clear and leads up to the very peak where there is a large door. Doc limps up the path and pushes on the door with all of his might, barely moving it. Through the crack he made, he steps through it and slams the door behind him. He stands within the mountain now with the silence. The wind doesn’t howl and the mountain does not speak. He steps forward within a long hallway which leads to another door which Doc approaches and pushes open.

Behind the door is a bright light that pushes out into the hallway and lures Doc in. Without hesitation and a feeling of warmness in his heart… He steps forward.




Doc steps through the light and into the same vision he had within the Cavern of Fear. He remembers this place. It's a delivery room. Within his pocket, the compass pulsates like a heart beat. He pulls it out and its the glowing pink orb from before. He stares deeply into it, admiring its little galaxies swirling about inside.

Doc's focus is broken when cries of terror flood the room. Blurry faces scream at each other over a table where a tiny, lifeless little human is wrapped in a blanket. Doc looks at the orb then pushes it into the lifeless body and with a look of shock she opens her eyes and takes a deep breath. The blurry faces stop fighting and rush over with new found joy. Doc takes several steps back and the world around him slowly blows away like dust. The last piece to blow away is the chart at the edge of the bed which read something at the top like:

“Frankfort Hospital”




After the world drifts away, Doc finds himself alone in the void. He feels the cold dark presence lurking behind him and welcomes it. It slithers up his leg, around his body, and wraps tightly around his neck.

What a journey you’ve had…

Doc throws a hand over his mouth. Did those words just come from him? He removes his hand.

What a journey… And for what?

Doc speaks again to himself through the void. Confused, he answers himself back.

I deserve this…

You deserve nothing.

Doc snaps back to himself.

Do you not see what you’ve become? You are a shell of the monster we created. No one takes you seriously now. You’ve come all this way to fail.

Lies… I know fear when I see it. I know the torment I deliver. I know the pain I bring! I watch as so many THINK they do not fear me. I listen to them mock me and play it off as if I cannot remove my head as simple as snapping my fingers.

The stranglehold loosens around Doc’s neck and he takes a gasp of air. His long windedness didn’t help the fact he was being nearly choked to death.

The void around him begins to form into something and Doc floats around until he’s sitting on a couch facing a large desk. Thick cigar smoke drifts behind the leather chair and creates a large circle as it spins around. Doc’s mouth drops through the floor as he sits across staring at himself.

Hello, my friend.

Says Void Doc. Doc stares back at him, saying nothing.

There’s just nothing left for you, is there?

Void Doc blasts Doc off the couch and the two are squared off back in the void. Void Doc creates a flame with his hand and whips it at Doc, but Doc deflects it and it soars off into the nothingness. Both of Void Doc’s hands burst into flames now and he charges after Doc and the two fight fist for explosive fist, blocking and matching each other perfectly!

You don’t have what it takes anymore!

Void Doc screams in Doc’s face before pushing off and creating a huge blast that would’ve blown a tank apart, but it’s Doc so it just hurt him a whole lot. Void Doc sends a couple more blasts his way that bounce off his chest and head sending him down to his knees, defeated. Doc huffs and puffs as Void Doc approaches him and grabs him by the back of the head.

You’re wrong.

Void Doc’s eyes narrow before he laughs.

Am I?

Doc feels a piece of flesh fall from the side of his face.

I have something now…. Something different… I’m different…

You’re nothing!

Void Doc brews up another blast in his hand and gets ready to end Doc’s journey for him before a beacon of light appears above them like a sun in the sky. Void Doc drops Doc and steps forward.

What… is that?

Says Void Doc as an image forms in the sky. Doc remains on his knees, half dead, with a smile.

[Image: X2qnlV6.png?1]


My heart.

A beam of light shoots down and pierces Void Doc through the chest and quickly vaporizes him into the nothingness that is the void. The figure in the light floats down and lands next to Doc, placing their hand on his shoulder. Doc feels light as a feather as the beacon grows and he embraces it.


END
]]>

Take a step back and look around. We are less than twenty-four hours from one of the biggest events of the year and you know what's funny? I feel like it's already behind us, my friends. The attitudes, the emotions... Everything going into this feels like I've already been crowned your glorious KING and everyone around already swallowed the pill. I will say, for an Elite 8, as in, the best of the best, you all conceded pretty easily.

You all basically sat there for an entire week and told the world how much you respect the good old Doc and how much of a bummer it is that things ended up the way it did. Betsy would have loved to face and eliminate me in an earlier round. Join the club, darling. I'm sure there's a line as long as Warstein's ego of people with the same wish as you. Solace Tatum gives me the same vibes. It's like being at party and not recognizing anyone and feeling real out of place. Neither Betsy OR Tatum belong here. But I'll give credit where credit is due. Solace Tatum is a solid member of Anarchy. You can catch that show on the internet or usually between the hours of 2am and 3am on weekends on one of the Turner networks. I heard it ain't bad. Betsy's had a good run. I think she came into this situation with a little too high of hopes though. No one told her about me. I don't believe it took very long for her to learn though.

Now, speaking of those that don't belong, the Second Chance Battle Royal! XWF's super secret special way to punish those with enough heart to come back for more! How many times do I have to punish Demos before the guy is a good little nothing and just goes away? I'll give the guy credit, too, he doesn't know or just refuses to quit. Good for him, he'll get familiarized again with that brick wall soon enough. Whether he meets it again when he's eliminated from the Royale or he actually makes it all the way to the final boss, he's walking away with what he hopes JUST his worthless Television Title. If he was smart, which he's proving to us more and more that he's not, he would've placed his focus on the only scrap of worthiness he has left around here.

We had some late bloomers, too! Andre Dixon, brought in by one of these legends that I've personally never heard of, to build onto a family legacy that was left behind for them. Well, that's pretty neat. See, here's the thing about legacies around here. Did you see the Elite 8? Yeah. That's one legacy, that if it doesn't tear itself apart, I will once whatever remanence of it pulls themselves from the ashes. Or tears. However they're going to do it. Bottom line is, sir, I watched one of my fellows from Continuum mop the floor with you the other day, and the kid looks up to me like I'm his mentor. So, what you're walking into is nothing like your unfortunate debut, but something far worse. If you care anything for that legacy of yours or continuing your career here in this FINE federation, I suggest you let Demos take the fall on this one and just walk away before you get hurt.


Doc rests against a wall on the ledge of a cliff nearing the peak of the mountain. Through the wind and snow, the forest and swamp below can barely be seen, but Doc’s entire journey laid before him like a dirty, snowy picture. What a view it would be if the weather was more cooperative. Doc is battered and bruised from his battle earlier, moreso his beating, and gimps along the now narrow path towards another small entrance to a cave. His footing slips and he nearly falls from the edge, but he catches himself. Taking a couple deep breaths he creeps inside and finds shelter from the violent weather.

Rubbing his hands together Doc manages to create a small flame within the palm of his hand. Upon noticing a path within the small space he decides to follow it, using his little guiding light to barely see while his free hand feels the wall as he goes. Doc’s head throbs and his bones ache, making the tiny, careful steps far more difficult.

He follows the path to its end and finds himself deep within the mountain now. It opens up and the walls are actually lined with torches every so often to light the way. Doc turns a corner and finds himself at another fork in his road. One path leading left and one leading right. He sighs and pulls his cigar pack from his pocket, but he’s fresh out of cigars. Poor Doc sighs and tosses the empty pack down onto the ground.

Litter bug.

Doc jumps as he walks right by Vinnie the Goat without even realizing it. The beast rises up, grabs the empty pack, and gives it a sniff.

Tsk, tsk, Dawk. Don’t be trashin’ my mountain.

Doc, a bit stifled now, crosses his eyes and looks down at the creature.

My apologies, sir.

This is my home.

Yes, I understand.

Do I come into your place of residence and throw garbage around?

I wouldn’t know if you did.

All I’m saying is---

Shh!

Vinnie freezes and his goat ears perk up.

What?

SHHH!!!

Vinnie stands there as Doc looks back and forth between the two paths. The goat boy hops over and looks back and forth between them too.

I like the lef---

Doc grabs Vinnie by the throat and picks him up into the air.

I said be quiet!

The little beast gulps through Doc’s grip and nods in surrender. Doc releases him and pats him on the head before studying the two paths again. Vinnie gimps over like he’s a maimed puppy dog and watches Doc pace back and forth. He watches and watches until Doc finally stops and looks down at him.

Alright what is it?

You tell me, Dawk. It looks like you’re having trouble deciding which way to go. You know who knows which way to go?

Doc sighs and lets his head hang down from his shoulders.

The last time you gave me directions it ended up hurting very much

That was a misunderstanding! Look, we’re facing the same way now!

Vinnie takes a spin and stands next to Doc.

Okay? Right!

Doc hesitantly turns towards the path to the right and allows Vinnie to take a few crazy hops ahead where he steps on a pressure point in the floor. Several arrows shoot across the one side of the hall to the other and stick in the wall. Lucky for Doc, he was tying his shoe at the time.

Woah, sorry! Forgot about that.

What Doc has come to realize is that he’s in some kind of labyrinth within the mountain. He’s followed the goat thus far, it seems confident in its path, but can he trust it? Relying on this beast before nearly cost him his entire journey. What was waste this would have been.

The beast never hesitates with each turn and acts as if it has solved this puzzle a million times. Doc struggles to keep up now; every turn he makes he sees just a glimpse of the goat before it cuts another corner.

Slow down!

Doc comes around a corner and finds himself facing five.

Goat?! Where are you?!

Doc stands alone with another difficult decision ahead of him. It’s already been proven that certain paths aren’t the best and you apparently even have to watch your step in some areas. A heavy breeze pushes him forward and the cave begins to shake around him.

Oh NOW what….

He loses his footing and falls to the ground losing the contents of his pockets. The little golden compass falls from his pocket and a bell rings in his head.

Okay, girl… Let’s see if your gift is as useful as you claim it could be.

Doc picks it up, closes his eyes, and opens it. When he opened them back up, the goat-looking nuisance was face to face with him eyeing up the compass.

Whatcha got there, Dawk?

Doc is startled once again by the beast and pulls the compass and himself away. He looks down at it and sees the arrow pointing down one of the paths; supposedly leading Doc to the peak where he desires to be.

What’s that, huh? It’s nice! Can I see it?

Back off, critter.

Doc walks past the little beast and follows the arrow towards the path, but stops when he hears a deep growl behind him. He turns around to see that the little annoying beast has changed, morphed, mutated into a giant goat monster! Kind of like a minotaur, but a goat head! IT’S HIDEOUS!! It roars at Doc like t-rex and charges him with his horns! Doc leaps out of the way at the last second and the beast goes head first into the entrance of the path Doc was heading for and caves it in!

Awe!! Look what you did!!

Give me the compass, DAWK!

IT WAS A GIFT!

The beast charges and again Doc dodges! Monster Vinnie screeches to a halt and turns around! Doc holds the compass and feels his heart grow five sizes! He pulls a rock through the air and smashes it into the beast's face! It staggers, but shakes it off and continues the charge! Doc throws several other rocks, but the beast meets each one with a fist, shattering them! Doc is unable to move and is gored by the monster and hits hard against the rubble from the cave-in!

Monster Vinnie grabs Doc by his collar and lifts him up. Doc can feel his hand holding the compass begin to swell up like a balloon. He looks down and its as big as the beast's head! Doc swings and knocks it silly! It lets him go and Doc hits a straight shot in the gut causing it to wheeze and stumble back! Doc continues to beat the thing's face in until he climbs up on it, grabs it by the horns, and rips his head clean off!! Doc roars out through the cave with his own war cry and lets the blood of his kill pour down over his body. He screams and screams until he realizes he’s the only one there and throws the head down onto the ground. He looks himself over, fixes his collar, and steps away from the beast.

Looking over the blocked path, Doc pulls the compass back out from his pocket and sees the direction it pointed before has changed. His eyes light up and he follows it to the first one on the far left. His left, not yours.

Doc follows it for a while, but nothing is what it seems in this place. The path is dark and as he goes he feels less leery and more just wanting to get out of there. His pace quickened, which made him less cautious and led him to find another one of those pressure points on the floor. Like stepping into a pile of dog doo, he knew immediately. There’s a loud thud above him then like in a bowling alley he hears a loud rumble until a giant boulder falls from the ceiling and begins rolling towards him. Doc, no better than he was before getting thrown around by a giant goat monster, does his best running impression away from his new attacker. A miracle happens and a shimmer of light can be seen in the distance. Doc hobbles his way towards it, slowly losing ground to the giant rock. He reaches the end and jumps without looking, but luckily grabs a tree root hanging down which swings him around away from the hole and smacking into the face of the cliff. The boulder rolls out of the hole and falls into a foggy, bottomless, abyss.

Hanging from the root, Doc observes the side of the cliff and sees five different holes including the one he emerged from. Each path led to this exact spot. How clever.

Doc manages to slowly pull himself up and claws onto the ledge. He looks and sees that he’s just a few steps away now from the place that he’s ventured so very far for… The air is thin and calm now, as if any storm or nasty weather is below him. The path in front of him is clear and leads up to the very peak where there is a large door. Doc limps up the path and pushes on the door with all of his might, barely moving it. Through the crack he made, he steps through it and slams the door behind him. He stands within the mountain now with the silence. The wind doesn’t howl and the mountain does not speak. He steps forward within a long hallway which leads to another door which Doc approaches and pushes open.

Behind the door is a bright light that pushes out into the hallway and lures Doc in. Without hesitation and a feeling of warmness in his heart… He steps forward.




Doc steps through the light and into the same vision he had within the Cavern of Fear. He remembers this place. It's a delivery room. Within his pocket, the compass pulsates like a heart beat. He pulls it out and its the glowing pink orb from before. He stares deeply into it, admiring its little galaxies swirling about inside.

Doc's focus is broken when cries of terror flood the room. Blurry faces scream at each other over a table where a tiny, lifeless little human is wrapped in a blanket. Doc looks at the orb then pushes it into the lifeless body and with a look of shock she opens her eyes and takes a deep breath. The blurry faces stop fighting and rush over with new found joy. Doc takes several steps back and the world around him slowly blows away like dust. The last piece to blow away is the chart at the edge of the bed which read something at the top like:

“Frankfort Hospital”




After the world drifts away, Doc finds himself alone in the void. He feels the cold dark presence lurking behind him and welcomes it. It slithers up his leg, around his body, and wraps tightly around his neck.

What a journey you’ve had…

Doc throws a hand over his mouth. Did those words just come from him? He removes his hand.

What a journey… And for what?

Doc speaks again to himself through the void. Confused, he answers himself back.

I deserve this…

You deserve nothing.

Doc snaps back to himself.

Do you not see what you’ve become? You are a shell of the monster we created. No one takes you seriously now. You’ve come all this way to fail.

Lies… I know fear when I see it. I know the torment I deliver. I know the pain I bring! I watch as so many THINK they do not fear me. I listen to them mock me and play it off as if I cannot remove my head as simple as snapping my fingers.

The stranglehold loosens around Doc’s neck and he takes a gasp of air. His long windedness didn’t help the fact he was being nearly choked to death.

The void around him begins to form into something and Doc floats around until he’s sitting on a couch facing a large desk. Thick cigar smoke drifts behind the leather chair and creates a large circle as it spins around. Doc’s mouth drops through the floor as he sits across staring at himself.

Hello, my friend.

Says Void Doc. Doc stares back at him, saying nothing.

There’s just nothing left for you, is there?

Void Doc blasts Doc off the couch and the two are squared off back in the void. Void Doc creates a flame with his hand and whips it at Doc, but Doc deflects it and it soars off into the nothingness. Both of Void Doc’s hands burst into flames now and he charges after Doc and the two fight fist for explosive fist, blocking and matching each other perfectly!

You don’t have what it takes anymore!

Void Doc screams in Doc’s face before pushing off and creating a huge blast that would’ve blown a tank apart, but it’s Doc so it just hurt him a whole lot. Void Doc sends a couple more blasts his way that bounce off his chest and head sending him down to his knees, defeated. Doc huffs and puffs as Void Doc approaches him and grabs him by the back of the head.

You’re wrong.

Void Doc’s eyes narrow before he laughs.

Am I?

Doc feels a piece of flesh fall from the side of his face.

I have something now…. Something different… I’m different…

You’re nothing!

Void Doc brews up another blast in his hand and gets ready to end Doc’s journey for him before a beacon of light appears above them like a sun in the sky. Void Doc drops Doc and steps forward.

What… is that?

Says Void Doc as an image forms in the sky. Doc remains on his knees, half dead, with a smile.

[Image: X2qnlV6.png?1]


My heart.

A beam of light shoots down and pierces Void Doc through the chest and quickly vaporizes him into the nothingness that is the void. The figure in the light floats down and lands next to Doc, placing their hand on his shoulder. Doc feels light as a feather as the beacon grows and he embraces it.


END
]]> <![CDATA[Market Saturation Part 5 -or- Fear & Loathing: RP #3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40272 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 20:53:50 -0700 TD1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40272
Three Days Later



U.S. Highway 93 || Somewhere in Western Arizona || 1:12 AM

All things considered, I’ve had a blast with Corey. Our apologies to any lingering and lurking Corey and Thad shippers, but that’s gonna remain a bromance only. I love that boy like nobodies business but it really was like kissing your grandma. Or at least, something like that. I never had a grandmother, except Liz… Shit, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy?

Back to Corey.

I was happy to be there for him, to help him figure things out. To be clear, I never really thought he had any legitimate romantic feelings for me and I know I never had any for him. Again, that’s not to say I couldn’t, I just hadn’t. He’s my brother. He has been for the last two plus years and if I was a god fearing man, I’d pray that never changes. It was important to me to say what I said to him about not prescribing to checking boxes. And it was important to me that he heard it. People don’t fit into boxes. Boxes are for those that are uncomfortable seeing a man love another man, a woman love another woman, and everything in between. Love is abstract… it’s what you make it.

Just being with him has this… I can’t quite describe it… but whatever it is that he has, allows me, and I would assume others, to forget their problems even if only for a little while. That little while though, really is enough in the grand scheme of things. Whatever the fuck this trip was, it kind of put things into perspective for me without it even intending to. I haven’t done anything extremely stupid in the wake of losing Frankie and that by itself honestly shows a lot of growth.

”Why are you pulling off?” I ask of Corey as he steers the Lincoln off the highway. ”We’re like ten minutes from Nevada.”

”I really gotta pee,” Corey answers as he pulls into a gas station.

”There was like 300 miles of empty desert back there and you waited to find a gas station?” I ask of him as both of us exit the car.

”Yeah but there’s scorpions and snakes and all kinds of shit out there man,” he says as we reach the door. ”I really don’t want to get my weiner stung… or worse,” he concludes with a wink.

”Yeah good point,” I say as a smile grows on my face. ”You get your weiner bit by a snake, I am NOT sucking out that poison.”

”That hurts man, I thought we were friends,” he says as he turns and rushes down the aisle toward the mens room and disappears.

”Hey my guy,” I say toward the disinterested clerk as I peruse the candy aisle. He looks as though he’s in his mid forties with a weathered face and he’s a bit unkempt. ”Got any chocolate covered nuts or something like that?”

He sighs and grunts as he stands from his little stool and grabs a bag from behind the counter and tosses it on the surface as I approach.

”Anything else?”

”Nah that’s it.”

”30 dollars 40 cents.”

”The fuck!?” I exclaim in complete shock. ”I can get nuts for free back home!” I wonder what Garrett’s up to, anyway.

”This ain’t home,” he says, unamused.

”Just gimme ‘em,” I say as I stick my card in the reader. ”Fuckin’ thirty bucks for some damn nuts,” I mutter under my breath as Corey comes up beside me. ”These better be god damn good,” I tell the man as I slide my card back in my wallet and grab the bag off the counter.

”You’ll love ‘em.”

Corey and I head back out to the car.

”What was that about?”

”I don’t know, I let that future Leatherface in there get me to spend 30 bucks on some fucking nuts.”

”Jesus,” he says as we both dip inside the car. ”He sure saw you comin’.”

Future Leatherface steps outside and lights a cigarette.

”Where you headed anyway?”

”Vegas,” I answer him. ”Do you meet many people in this part of Arizona not goin’ to Vegas?”

”Guys night out?” he asks in the midst of an inhale.

”We’re wrestlers,” Corey calls out. ”For the XWF.”

”I thought that was you,” he says as he takes a drag. ”You’re wasting your time though, Them No Good Bastards are gonna win.”

Neither of us respond verbally. Instead I tear the little flap of the bag of nuts and hold it in my hand out the window while staring Future Leatherface in the eyes, then drop it to the ground outside the car.

”You rebel!” Corey jokes, causing me to laugh as he backs the car out.

”Hey Leatherface,” I call out to the guy as he picks up my litter. ”Fuck you buddy!” I yell out with a flip of the bird as Corey drives away and back onto the highway, both of us feeding ourselves handfuls of chocolate covered almonds. ”They’re pretty good,” I say between bites. ”Not for thirty bucks though.”

Back on the interstate, Corey pulls off the road.

”What are you doing?”

”That place was a wreck,” he says as he shifts the car into park. ”I couldn’t pee in there.” Corey steps out of the car and rushes himself in front of the car to take a leak.

”You know uhhhh,” I call out the window toward him before taking a couple nuts in my mouth. Shut up. ”Maybe you don’t wanna do that in the headlights cuz I can see your weiner.”

”Yeah well if there’s anything gonna bite or sting, I have a better chance of seeing it.”

”Judging from what I can see, you don’t have much to worry about,” I say with a chuckle.

He jerks his head in my direction and slowly raises his middle finger at me causing me to laugh harder. Back in the car and back on the highway, we roll along at what seems like a snails pace for twenty minutes.

”I thought you said we were ten minutes from Nevada?” he questions.

”We would be if you weren’t going like 20,” I say in response.

”I’m goin’ 70,” he says with a shrug.

”In a 75 zone, pick up the pace gramma!”

”Hey, feel my face,” he says as he leans his head toward me a few inches.

Honestly I’m a little perplexed by his ask but whatever, I’ll humor him.

”Okay,” I say as I touch his face. ”Now what?”

”Does it feel tingly to you?”

I drop my hands to my side.

”Core, how would I feel if your face is tingly?”

Eyes to me, eyes to the road. Eyes to me, eyes to the road.

”Y’know that’s a good question,” he says as he stares out toward the highway.

Just then an old Beach Boys song pops on the radio.

”OH MY GOD!”

”What!?”

”C’mon sing with me,” I plead quickly.



”No. Thad, I’m not much of a...”

”Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take ya,” I begin.

”C’mon man!”

”Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama,” I continue singing and Corey shakes his head with a smile. ”Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go, Jamaica.”

”Off the Florida Keys, there's a place called Kokomo,” Corey begins.

”YASSS!”

”That's where you wanna go to get away from it all,” he sings as he tries to stop himself from laughing. ”Bodies in the sand, tropical drink melting in your hand. We'll be falling in love to the rhythm of a steel drum band.”

”Down in Kokomo!”

Corey and I both look into the backseat where Doc has just appeared in his mysterious Doc D’Ville ways.

”Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama. Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go,” Continuum sings and we’re not sure why yet.

”Oh I want to take you down to Kokomo,” I sing as Corey and I peer into the backseat and as quickly and as mysteriously as D’Ville arrived, he’s vanished without a trace… ‘cept for that lingering cigar smoke. ”We'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow. That's where we want to go, way down in Kokomo.”

”Martinique, that Montserrat mystique,” Corey continues.

”We'll put out to sea and we'll perfect our chemistry, And by and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity.

“Afternoon delight, cocktails and moonlit nights, that dreamy look in your eye, give me a tropical contact high...”

Corey flips on the interior light and snatches the bag of almonds from my hand.

”Way down in Kokomo...”

”OH MY GOD!” He cries out as he slams on the brakes and pulls off the highway.

”What the fuck, Core?” I say as he bails out of the car with my nuts… you know what I mean. In the beam of the headlights he paces back and forth and does circles. His demeanor causes me to worry so I too bail out. Approaching him, he stops frantically pacing and leans over, resting his hands above his knees.

”There’s THC!” he yells as he holds the bag in the beam of the headlight. ”I think I’m gonna be sick.”

”Oh shit,” I say quietly before grabbing the bag and tossing it into the desert sand.

”This is a relapse!” Corey cries out as he drops to his ass on the side of the road.

”No it isn’t,” I say as I lean down and sit next to him, draping my arm across his shoulders.

”No it’s definitely a relapse Thad,” he fires back quickly.

”It’s not,” I try to reassure him. ”You didn’t inhale anything, you didn’t stick a fuckin’ needle in your arm...”

”If you stuck me with a heroin needle, is that not a relapse? Did I not just get high?”

”Oh c’mon man,” I say, pulling him a little tighter. ”You can’t compare THC and heroin or anything else.”

”I know but...”

”But nothing man, this was a goof Core, entirely unintentional. This doesn’t negate all the work you’ve put in to overcome your past man.”

”You don’t think?”

I shake my head.

”Why would they just sell this shit over the counter like that?” I ask rhetorically.

”He knew who we were,” Corey says as he looks over at me. ”Maybe he was aware of...”

”Corey that’s not you anymore,” I say to him and he looks up at me again. ”You’re not that person.”

”You don’t think?” he asks quietly.

”Fuck no man,” I answer him. ”I don’t look at you and see a drug addict.”

”What do you see?”

”Corey Smith,” I answer him and he tilts his head like “c’mon man” but stops shy of rolling his eyes. ”I see the best friend anyone could ever want. I see my brother, blood or not. I see a young man finding out who he really is without having passengers for the first time in maybe his entire life. I see a good dude that saw an off the wall guy like Alias for who he is, and not what he’s perceived to be.

“I see a man that’s had my back even when he doubted whether or not he should.

“I see a hot,” I continue with a laugh and it causes him to chuckle. ”Loyal, ridiculously talented man that I’m proud to call my brother.”

”I hate that guy,” he says, referring to the store clerk.

”Wanna go back and beat him up?”

Corey laughs lightly.

”No… but...”

”But what?”

”I really need to get up because I’m sitting on a rock.”

”I’ll drive since you’re stoned,” I suggest as we get to our feet.

”And you’re not?”

I shrug. ”I really don’t feel anything.”

”Yeah, why is that?” he asks and I shrug… exactly as long as Shawn Warstein. Fuck you Fuzz, sue me.


Back in the car after Corey’s totally understandable freak out and the Continuum Band performing Kokomo, he relents and allows me to finish driving us to Vegas. Rolling down the highway, we comes across a sign that reads: Kingman 10 miles.

”COREY!” I shout out and start laughing.

”What?” he asks as if I snapped him out of a deep sleep. ”What’d I do?”

”You went the wrong way, no wonder we never made it to Nevada!”

”Oh!” Corey exclaims. ”How bout that?”

After jacking the e-brake and with squealing tires, I turn the car around in a very dramatic manner so we’re once again heading the right direction, I notice something in the rear view mirror.

”Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter under my breath.

”It’s not that big a deal, really...”

[Image: LGKojr8.jpg]


”Corey I don’t want you to panic, but what’s about to happen is...”

He notices the flashing reds and blues as I’m speaking, and starts to panic.

”Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” he says frantically.

”Corey, I got this man. He has no idea we’re high as fuck,” I say as I steer the car onto the shoulder.

”OH MY GOD! I DIDN’T EVEN THINK OF THAT!” Corey yells out. ”I’m goin’ to prison!” he cries out as a tear rolls down his face.

”You’re not goin’ to prison.”

”I’d be a highly desirable commodity in the clink Thad! I can’t go to prison!”

”License, registration and proof of insurance,” says the officer as he approaches the window. I go on retrieving my wallet from my back pocket as Corey hesitates.

”Sir I have to go into the glove compartment,” Corey says worriedly, still probably thinking about prison. The cop only nods as he flashes his light on Corey’s face.

”Where you two headed?” he asks as he shines his light on my drivers license.

”Vegas,” I answer. ”Just win, baby!” I tried...

”Do you have any idea why I pulled you over?” he asks.

”Officer,” Corey interrupts as he hands off the registration and insurance. ”Did it have anything to do with...” Quickly I slap my hand over Corey’s mouth. You never admit to anything.

”I don’t have the slightest idea,” I lie. I know it’s the over dramatic u-turn.

”I saw you bust that illegal u-turn back there,” he answers. ”Care to explain?”

”We were at a rest stop awhile back near the state line, when we got back on the highway here we just realized we were going the wrong direction.”

”Mmmmhmmm,” he replies unamused. ”Sit tight,” says Officer Jimbob as he heads back to his cruiser and Corey backhands me in the shoulder causing me to look at him.

”Would it kill you to have just done a normal K turn?”

”How was I supposed to know there was a cop lurking? We’ve seen all of one car in three hours man.”

”I have to pee,” he says quietly and suddenly. ”Like really bad.”

”You just went like a half hour ago,” I remind him.

”I know but I drank a fuck ton of water and I really gotta go man.”

”Wait till Officer Hardass takes off and just go.”

”Can’t,” he replies as he starts holding himself and wiggling back and forth like a 7 year old. Taking my nearly empty bottle of YooHoo from the console I take its final swig and hand the bottle to Corey.

”Drain yourself to your hearts content,” I say as the Officer exits his cruiser and begins that slow walk back to Corey’s Lincoln.

”I’m not done!” he stammers as he watches the officer approach in the mirror.

”Pinch it off, finish in a second,” I advise him.

”Everything checks out,” says the officer as a speeding semi truck nearly clips him. ”JE-SUS!”

The truck is followed by a speeding Trans Am.

”You two be safe!” yells the officer as he reaches for his radio.

”Hey Thad?” Corey calls out as he screws the lid back on the bottle. ”Was that Diesel?”

”All units!” he cries into his radio. ”Highway 93 north, an 18 wheeler with Michigan tags Delta-Sierra-Lima Bravo-Oscar-Bravo!”

”Seems that way, but I think Thunder Knuckles was in the car.”

Officer Dumbass trots off to his car.

“Remind me not to drink that,” I say as I steer the car onto the highway as Officer Whatshisname speeds off in the distance following that speeding semi and Trans Am tandem.

Several quiet minutes later, I pull off the same exit where we started this journey.

”What are you doing?” he asks as I pull into the same little gas station from earlier. Future Leatherface is outside smoking another cigarette and recognizes us immediately with a quick wave. I steer the car in circles in his empty parking lot, flipping the guy off. He just shrugs and shakes his head.

”Corey, piss bomb,” I say as I continue doing circles in the parking lot and flipping the bird.

”What?” he asks as I open up the sunroof and grab the YooHoo bottle, handing it to him.

”Stand up, and throw it at the curb by his feet. Teach that fucker not to sell drug laced candy to a couple of unsuspecting idiots.”

”Sir, you’re the idiot,” he reminds me.

”I mean, if you wanna get technical.”

Corey smiles and stands up, poking his head through the sunroof, and launches the piss filled glass bottle toward the curb. It strikes the pavement near the clerks feet and explodes on impact, showering the mans lower legs with urine. He barely flinches.

”Fuck you dickhead!” Corey yells at the man as he flips him off before ducking back inside. Steering the car toward the road, I quickly pull back around and slow up beside the clerk.

”Hey do you know where there’s a Lenny’s?”

”Denny’s.”

”Whatever.”

”Across the line in Laughlin,” he answers.

”Hey thanks man,” I say as I begin to pull away.

”Hey that smells like piss,” he calls after me and I slow it down again.

”Because it is,” I state, shooting him a ‘duh’ kind of look before taking off again. About fifteen minutes later, after crossing into Nevada I pull off of Interstate 11 and come to a red light with Denny’s across the intersection from us.

[Image: X6atxkT.jpg]


Sitting at the light I emit a deep sigh.

”I hate red lights,” I say for no particular reason.

”Yeah me too,” Corey says as he hangs his head out the window, staring up at the stars.

”I’m sorry I got us both stoned,” I say to him.

”It’s okay,” he says as he continues staring. ”I think we’re comin’ down now though.”

”Probably a good thing though.”

”Hey,” he says as he pulls himself back inside the car. ”Can we talk about Lackawana?” he asks.

I shoot him a puzzled look while pondering before it dawns on me.

”...you mean Lycana?”

”Yeah that’s what I said,” he insists.

”You said Lackawana,” I say with a laugh.

”No I didn’t,” he shoots a smile back in return. ”Anyway what’s goin’ on there?”

”Nothing,” I answer him and he stares at me for a few moments in disbelief. ”I’m serious man. Nothing is or will be going on between me and Lycana.

“I enjoyed the flirting and all that but...”

”A lot of people flirt with you,” he argues.

”Yeah and its never not fun,” I admit. ”Lycana is the Left Hand and I don’t have relationships with despicable people just for fun. That’s what I told her that night on Warfare after Edgar beat her.”

”Really?”

”Not in those exact words, but before Baphailure took off, they branded Alias and they threatened your life and I’m not about to turn my back on my best friend and his friend simply to get my dick wet.

“I can get that anywhere.”

”That’s kind of a relief to hear.”

”She might not have been the one performing those particular acts but association matters to me.

“Maybe I shoulda fucked her though,” I say with a smile.

”Ewww! No, why?”

”To find out what that left hand is all about,” I joke. ”I feel like we been sitting here for ten minutes, what the fuck is up with this light?”

”Maybe its stuck,” Corey offers as he looks around at the nonexistent traffic. ”Thad, I think I figured out why the light isn’t changing.”

”Oh do tell.”

”Because its a stop sign,” he informs me and I shoot my head to the right and low and behold, a stop sign appears on the corner.

”Son of a bitch,” I mutter as I pull the car through the intersection and into the Denny’s parking lot.


Inside America’s Diner, Corey and I sit quietly perusing the menu and downing our drinks in seconds.

”So what’ll it be?” asks the waitress as she sits on her leg beside Corey in the booth after setting down a couple refills.

”Um can I ask about your specials?” he asks a little timidly.

”Sure!” she answers excitedly. I think she likes him. ”We have...”

I zone out as she speaks, just sitting here drinking my Dr. Pepper.

”We’ll just take it all,” I say as she finishes up. Her and Corey both stare at me.

”That’s like...”

”...a lot of fucking food,” she finishes his thought.

”I said what I said,” I say as my stomach growls in hunger. ”We’ll take all the specials.”

Later, Corey and I are both lying back on the booths, lingering dangerously close to food coma.

”Why did you order so much food?” Corey asks as he stares at his eyelids.

”I was hungry,” I answer him. ”Plus, I didn’t realize it’d be like thirteen different plates.”

”Bet the cooks were fuckin’ pissed.”

”Together?” the waitress interrupts.

”Why does everyone think we’re gay!?” Corey blurts out as he sits straight up in the booth. Clearly his insecurities have not gone away.

”Relax killer,” I say to him as I sit up. ”She’s asking about the check.”

”Oh I guess that makes sense.”

”One is fine,” I inform the waitress as she sets it down.

”I’ll take it when you’re ready,” she says as she starts to walk away.

”Corey I think she was talking about you,” I say with a smile. His face turns red and she giggles as she walks away. ”Well I’ll say one thing about those almonds… my thigh doesn’t hurt anymore.”


Some Time Later



[Image: ragrTBS.jpg]



What a trip it has been and what a ride. Corey steers the Lincoln into the valet parking spot outside our hotel and he and I both get out and stretch.

”I need a nap… and a toilet. Not in that order.”

”I was just thinking the same thing,” he says as he hands the keys off to the valet attendant.

”What a strange fucking trip its been man,” I say as we head for the door. He nods in agreement.

….


….


”Excuse me, language...” comes a voice from behind us. Corey and I stop suddenly and stare at each other wide eyed.

”Cinderelli,” we say quietly.


Are we feeling the heat Thunder Knuckles? Do you think we’re feeling the heat? Do you think we’ve lost confidence because two out of shape blowhards filled a couple promos with playground insults, hot air, and a parody? It takes more than you got to shake this confidence my man.

I have literally never heard anyone talk so much and say so little as Thunder Knuckles has in this promo fest. He’s spent his time telling everyone thirty different ways that “Thad promos are boring.” Gee. Never fucking heard that before. And it works none of the time and I really don’t suspect this time will be any different.

Thunder Knucks… my man if you don’t want to remember the past. If you don’t want to reflect on that title, then why do you continuously bring it up?

“He’s gonna say it Robbie. I’m calling it now! Thad’s gonna talk about the TV title that I don’t care about anymore even though I keep bringing it up and…”

Do you see how easy it is to bait you into talking about what you didn’t want to talk about? I spent all of twentty seconds setting that trap and watched you walk right into it and it didn’t even cost me any xbux. What the fuck are you even talking about the mask for dipshit? I didn’t wear the mask in the match and what that proves is that you wouldn’t have beaten me with or without it. Despite the mask, I wasn’t really hiding who lurked beneath it.

See how that works? I’m not supposed to talk about a match last summer, but he can bring up the mask I didn’t wear in that same match last summer. For a guy that didn’t want to talk about it, you sure as shit droned on and on about it didn’t you?

That’s what sets guys like you apart from guys like me. People like you, talk. People like me, listen.

TK do you realize how stupid you sound when you say Doc carried my dead weight to the tag titles? Do you realize who won that match for Continuum? Or are you just throwing your own shit at the wall at generic insults and just saying whatever your shit lands on? That’s what it sounds like my man. You can think as little of me as you want to, it makes no difference to me or anyone else but you. Facts are reality and the fact is I won the tag team championship for Continuum and the reality of that situation is we are, and Sunday night will still be the reigning defending tag team champions. At least you have that tag team turmoil to fall back on so you can get back to climbing those rankings for your third unsuccessful shot.

Maybe I ranted about Page, as you two so cleverly pointed out, and no it had nothing to do with this match but unlike one of you, at least I said something relevant to the task we all have before us. Even an unrelatable tirade is better than no tirade. Talking about you for even just a little bit is better than not talking about us at all.

Right?

I’mma just say on the record that our prediction that we’d be facing Them No Good Bastards at March Madness had less to do with Robbie and Thunder Knuckles than it did the opponents they were facing. I mean, c’mon… Morbid Angel and Mastermind? The highly undecorated tag team of Jobber Juan and Jobber TwoTree would give those assholes a run for their money. It wasn’t exactly rocket science to predict. It didn’t take a fuckin laboratory, not a calculator, not even an abacus.

Yep guys, yer gud.

Feel better now?

They’re coming for us like a tsunami, oh golly, whatever will we do?

We’re defending the titles, Corey’s beating “rookies”, I’m beating nobodies, Them No Good Bitches are beating teams of nobodies… So I guess we’re all on equal footing then. Sure doesn’t seem like a fuckin tsunami. Apparently being relevant, in their minds, means beating nobodies and hoping someone besides them gives an actual fuck.

The difference between what I think and what they think, is that I know beating nobodies like Wylde and Little D does nothing for me. They think beating nobodies like Salt & Pepper and Morbid and Double M does anything but lead them right to the doorstep of another loss when it counts.

Robbie thinks that because I spend a few minutes talking about something else or someone else that that somehow means I’m not focused on them as opponents. If all you’re doing as looking at the surface, which is all they’ve done with anything said in their direction, they’re missing the torpedoes coming at them ready to blow their hull and sink their little pirate ship.

We’ve seen you coming for two months. It isn’t because you’re some spectacular tag team. It isn’t because you guys are full speed ahead. It isn’t because we’re “afraid” of big bad Robbie Bourbon and his baby boy TK. It’s because all of the other relevant tag teams have found themselves either losing or waiting to lose to the former and future King of the XWF, Doc D’Ville.

Come Sunday night I hope you bring your fat pants, because Corey and I are about to give you more than you can possibly eat and that’s actually saying a lot… I didn’t start out with that intending to be a fat joke but here we are…

March Madness is on our doorsteps and the shiny trinkets you seems so ready for? They stay where they belong: in Continuum’s Kingdom.


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Three Days Later



U.S. Highway 93 || Somewhere in Western Arizona || 1:12 AM

All things considered, I’ve had a blast with Corey. Our apologies to any lingering and lurking Corey and Thad shippers, but that’s gonna remain a bromance only. I love that boy like nobodies business but it really was like kissing your grandma. Or at least, something like that. I never had a grandmother, except Liz… Shit, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy?

Back to Corey.

I was happy to be there for him, to help him figure things out. To be clear, I never really thought he had any legitimate romantic feelings for me and I know I never had any for him. Again, that’s not to say I couldn’t, I just hadn’t. He’s my brother. He has been for the last two plus years and if I was a god fearing man, I’d pray that never changes. It was important to me to say what I said to him about not prescribing to checking boxes. And it was important to me that he heard it. People don’t fit into boxes. Boxes are for those that are uncomfortable seeing a man love another man, a woman love another woman, and everything in between. Love is abstract… it’s what you make it.

Just being with him has this… I can’t quite describe it… but whatever it is that he has, allows me, and I would assume others, to forget their problems even if only for a little while. That little while though, really is enough in the grand scheme of things. Whatever the fuck this trip was, it kind of put things into perspective for me without it even intending to. I haven’t done anything extremely stupid in the wake of losing Frankie and that by itself honestly shows a lot of growth.

”Why are you pulling off?” I ask of Corey as he steers the Lincoln off the highway. ”We’re like ten minutes from Nevada.”

”I really gotta pee,” Corey answers as he pulls into a gas station.

”There was like 300 miles of empty desert back there and you waited to find a gas station?” I ask of him as both of us exit the car.

”Yeah but there’s scorpions and snakes and all kinds of shit out there man,” he says as we reach the door. ”I really don’t want to get my weiner stung… or worse,” he concludes with a wink.

”Yeah good point,” I say as a smile grows on my face. ”You get your weiner bit by a snake, I am NOT sucking out that poison.”

”That hurts man, I thought we were friends,” he says as he turns and rushes down the aisle toward the mens room and disappears.

”Hey my guy,” I say toward the disinterested clerk as I peruse the candy aisle. He looks as though he’s in his mid forties with a weathered face and he’s a bit unkempt. ”Got any chocolate covered nuts or something like that?”

He sighs and grunts as he stands from his little stool and grabs a bag from behind the counter and tosses it on the surface as I approach.

”Anything else?”

”Nah that’s it.”

”30 dollars 40 cents.”

”The fuck!?” I exclaim in complete shock. ”I can get nuts for free back home!” I wonder what Garrett’s up to, anyway.

”This ain’t home,” he says, unamused.

”Just gimme ‘em,” I say as I stick my card in the reader. ”Fuckin’ thirty bucks for some damn nuts,” I mutter under my breath as Corey comes up beside me. ”These better be god damn good,” I tell the man as I slide my card back in my wallet and grab the bag off the counter.

”You’ll love ‘em.”

Corey and I head back out to the car.

”What was that about?”

”I don’t know, I let that future Leatherface in there get me to spend 30 bucks on some fucking nuts.”

”Jesus,” he says as we both dip inside the car. ”He sure saw you comin’.”

Future Leatherface steps outside and lights a cigarette.

”Where you headed anyway?”

”Vegas,” I answer him. ”Do you meet many people in this part of Arizona not goin’ to Vegas?”

”Guys night out?” he asks in the midst of an inhale.

”We’re wrestlers,” Corey calls out. ”For the XWF.”

”I thought that was you,” he says as he takes a drag. ”You’re wasting your time though, Them No Good Bastards are gonna win.”

Neither of us respond verbally. Instead I tear the little flap of the bag of nuts and hold it in my hand out the window while staring Future Leatherface in the eyes, then drop it to the ground outside the car.

”You rebel!” Corey jokes, causing me to laugh as he backs the car out.

”Hey Leatherface,” I call out to the guy as he picks up my litter. ”Fuck you buddy!” I yell out with a flip of the bird as Corey drives away and back onto the highway, both of us feeding ourselves handfuls of chocolate covered almonds. ”They’re pretty good,” I say between bites. ”Not for thirty bucks though.”

Back on the interstate, Corey pulls off the road.

”What are you doing?”

”That place was a wreck,” he says as he shifts the car into park. ”I couldn’t pee in there.” Corey steps out of the car and rushes himself in front of the car to take a leak.

”You know uhhhh,” I call out the window toward him before taking a couple nuts in my mouth. Shut up. ”Maybe you don’t wanna do that in the headlights cuz I can see your weiner.”

”Yeah well if there’s anything gonna bite or sting, I have a better chance of seeing it.”

”Judging from what I can see, you don’t have much to worry about,” I say with a chuckle.

He jerks his head in my direction and slowly raises his middle finger at me causing me to laugh harder. Back in the car and back on the highway, we roll along at what seems like a snails pace for twenty minutes.

”I thought you said we were ten minutes from Nevada?” he questions.

”We would be if you weren’t going like 20,” I say in response.

”I’m goin’ 70,” he says with a shrug.

”In a 75 zone, pick up the pace gramma!”

”Hey, feel my face,” he says as he leans his head toward me a few inches.

Honestly I’m a little perplexed by his ask but whatever, I’ll humor him.

”Okay,” I say as I touch his face. ”Now what?”

”Does it feel tingly to you?”

I drop my hands to my side.

”Core, how would I feel if your face is tingly?”

Eyes to me, eyes to the road. Eyes to me, eyes to the road.

”Y’know that’s a good question,” he says as he stares out toward the highway.

Just then an old Beach Boys song pops on the radio.

”OH MY GOD!”

”What!?”

”C’mon sing with me,” I plead quickly.



”No. Thad, I’m not much of a...”

”Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take ya,” I begin.

”C’mon man!”

”Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama,” I continue singing and Corey shakes his head with a smile. ”Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go, Jamaica.”

”Off the Florida Keys, there's a place called Kokomo,” Corey begins.

”YASSS!”

”That's where you wanna go to get away from it all,” he sings as he tries to stop himself from laughing. ”Bodies in the sand, tropical drink melting in your hand. We'll be falling in love to the rhythm of a steel drum band.”

”Down in Kokomo!”

Corey and I both look into the backseat where Doc has just appeared in his mysterious Doc D’Ville ways.

”Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama. Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go,” Continuum sings and we’re not sure why yet.

”Oh I want to take you down to Kokomo,” I sing as Corey and I peer into the backseat and as quickly and as mysteriously as D’Ville arrived, he’s vanished without a trace… ‘cept for that lingering cigar smoke. ”We'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow. That's where we want to go, way down in Kokomo.”

”Martinique, that Montserrat mystique,” Corey continues.

”We'll put out to sea and we'll perfect our chemistry, And by and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity.

“Afternoon delight, cocktails and moonlit nights, that dreamy look in your eye, give me a tropical contact high...”

Corey flips on the interior light and snatches the bag of almonds from my hand.

”Way down in Kokomo...”

”OH MY GOD!” He cries out as he slams on the brakes and pulls off the highway.

”What the fuck, Core?” I say as he bails out of the car with my nuts… you know what I mean. In the beam of the headlights he paces back and forth and does circles. His demeanor causes me to worry so I too bail out. Approaching him, he stops frantically pacing and leans over, resting his hands above his knees.

”There’s THC!” he yells as he holds the bag in the beam of the headlight. ”I think I’m gonna be sick.”

”Oh shit,” I say quietly before grabbing the bag and tossing it into the desert sand.

”This is a relapse!” Corey cries out as he drops to his ass on the side of the road.

”No it isn’t,” I say as I lean down and sit next to him, draping my arm across his shoulders.

”No it’s definitely a relapse Thad,” he fires back quickly.

”It’s not,” I try to reassure him. ”You didn’t inhale anything, you didn’t stick a fuckin’ needle in your arm...”

”If you stuck me with a heroin needle, is that not a relapse? Did I not just get high?”

”Oh c’mon man,” I say, pulling him a little tighter. ”You can’t compare THC and heroin or anything else.”

”I know but...”

”But nothing man, this was a goof Core, entirely unintentional. This doesn’t negate all the work you’ve put in to overcome your past man.”

”You don’t think?”

I shake my head.

”Why would they just sell this shit over the counter like that?” I ask rhetorically.

”He knew who we were,” Corey says as he looks over at me. ”Maybe he was aware of...”

”Corey that’s not you anymore,” I say to him and he looks up at me again. ”You’re not that person.”

”You don’t think?” he asks quietly.

”Fuck no man,” I answer him. ”I don’t look at you and see a drug addict.”

”What do you see?”

”Corey Smith,” I answer him and he tilts his head like “c’mon man” but stops shy of rolling his eyes. ”I see the best friend anyone could ever want. I see my brother, blood or not. I see a young man finding out who he really is without having passengers for the first time in maybe his entire life. I see a good dude that saw an off the wall guy like Alias for who he is, and not what he’s perceived to be.

“I see a man that’s had my back even when he doubted whether or not he should.

“I see a hot,” I continue with a laugh and it causes him to chuckle. ”Loyal, ridiculously talented man that I’m proud to call my brother.”

”I hate that guy,” he says, referring to the store clerk.

”Wanna go back and beat him up?”

Corey laughs lightly.

”No… but...”

”But what?”

”I really need to get up because I’m sitting on a rock.”

”I’ll drive since you’re stoned,” I suggest as we get to our feet.

”And you’re not?”

I shrug. ”I really don’t feel anything.”

”Yeah, why is that?” he asks and I shrug… exactly as long as Shawn Warstein. Fuck you Fuzz, sue me.


Back in the car after Corey’s totally understandable freak out and the Continuum Band performing Kokomo, he relents and allows me to finish driving us to Vegas. Rolling down the highway, we comes across a sign that reads: Kingman 10 miles.

”COREY!” I shout out and start laughing.

”What?” he asks as if I snapped him out of a deep sleep. ”What’d I do?”

”You went the wrong way, no wonder we never made it to Nevada!”

”Oh!” Corey exclaims. ”How bout that?”

After jacking the e-brake and with squealing tires, I turn the car around in a very dramatic manner so we’re once again heading the right direction, I notice something in the rear view mirror.

”Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter under my breath.

”It’s not that big a deal, really...”

[Image: LGKojr8.jpg]


”Corey I don’t want you to panic, but what’s about to happen is...”

He notices the flashing reds and blues as I’m speaking, and starts to panic.

”Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” he says frantically.

”Corey, I got this man. He has no idea we’re high as fuck,” I say as I steer the car onto the shoulder.

”OH MY GOD! I DIDN’T EVEN THINK OF THAT!” Corey yells out. ”I’m goin’ to prison!” he cries out as a tear rolls down his face.

”You’re not goin’ to prison.”

”I’d be a highly desirable commodity in the clink Thad! I can’t go to prison!”

”License, registration and proof of insurance,” says the officer as he approaches the window. I go on retrieving my wallet from my back pocket as Corey hesitates.

”Sir I have to go into the glove compartment,” Corey says worriedly, still probably thinking about prison. The cop only nods as he flashes his light on Corey’s face.

”Where you two headed?” he asks as he shines his light on my drivers license.

”Vegas,” I answer. ”Just win, baby!” I tried...

”Do you have any idea why I pulled you over?” he asks.

”Officer,” Corey interrupts as he hands off the registration and insurance. ”Did it have anything to do with...” Quickly I slap my hand over Corey’s mouth. You never admit to anything.

”I don’t have the slightest idea,” I lie. I know it’s the over dramatic u-turn.

”I saw you bust that illegal u-turn back there,” he answers. ”Care to explain?”

”We were at a rest stop awhile back near the state line, when we got back on the highway here we just realized we were going the wrong direction.”

”Mmmmhmmm,” he replies unamused. ”Sit tight,” says Officer Jimbob as he heads back to his cruiser and Corey backhands me in the shoulder causing me to look at him.

”Would it kill you to have just done a normal K turn?”

”How was I supposed to know there was a cop lurking? We’ve seen all of one car in three hours man.”

”I have to pee,” he says quietly and suddenly. ”Like really bad.”

”You just went like a half hour ago,” I remind him.

”I know but I drank a fuck ton of water and I really gotta go man.”

”Wait till Officer Hardass takes off and just go.”

”Can’t,” he replies as he starts holding himself and wiggling back and forth like a 7 year old. Taking my nearly empty bottle of YooHoo from the console I take its final swig and hand the bottle to Corey.

”Drain yourself to your hearts content,” I say as the Officer exits his cruiser and begins that slow walk back to Corey’s Lincoln.

”I’m not done!” he stammers as he watches the officer approach in the mirror.

”Pinch it off, finish in a second,” I advise him.

”Everything checks out,” says the officer as a speeding semi truck nearly clips him. ”JE-SUS!”

The truck is followed by a speeding Trans Am.

”You two be safe!” yells the officer as he reaches for his radio.

”Hey Thad?” Corey calls out as he screws the lid back on the bottle. ”Was that Diesel?”

”All units!” he cries into his radio. ”Highway 93 north, an 18 wheeler with Michigan tags Delta-Sierra-Lima Bravo-Oscar-Bravo!”

”Seems that way, but I think Thunder Knuckles was in the car.”

Officer Dumbass trots off to his car.

“Remind me not to drink that,” I say as I steer the car onto the highway as Officer Whatshisname speeds off in the distance following that speeding semi and Trans Am tandem.

Several quiet minutes later, I pull off the same exit where we started this journey.

”What are you doing?” he asks as I pull into the same little gas station from earlier. Future Leatherface is outside smoking another cigarette and recognizes us immediately with a quick wave. I steer the car in circles in his empty parking lot, flipping the guy off. He just shrugs and shakes his head.

”Corey, piss bomb,” I say as I continue doing circles in the parking lot and flipping the bird.

”What?” he asks as I open up the sunroof and grab the YooHoo bottle, handing it to him.

”Stand up, and throw it at the curb by his feet. Teach that fucker not to sell drug laced candy to a couple of unsuspecting idiots.”

”Sir, you’re the idiot,” he reminds me.

”I mean, if you wanna get technical.”

Corey smiles and stands up, poking his head through the sunroof, and launches the piss filled glass bottle toward the curb. It strikes the pavement near the clerks feet and explodes on impact, showering the mans lower legs with urine. He barely flinches.

”Fuck you dickhead!” Corey yells at the man as he flips him off before ducking back inside. Steering the car toward the road, I quickly pull back around and slow up beside the clerk.

”Hey do you know where there’s a Lenny’s?”

”Denny’s.”

”Whatever.”

”Across the line in Laughlin,” he answers.

”Hey thanks man,” I say as I begin to pull away.

”Hey that smells like piss,” he calls after me and I slow it down again.

”Because it is,” I state, shooting him a ‘duh’ kind of look before taking off again. About fifteen minutes later, after crossing into Nevada I pull off of Interstate 11 and come to a red light with Denny’s across the intersection from us.

[Image: X6atxkT.jpg]


Sitting at the light I emit a deep sigh.

”I hate red lights,” I say for no particular reason.

”Yeah me too,” Corey says as he hangs his head out the window, staring up at the stars.

”I’m sorry I got us both stoned,” I say to him.

”It’s okay,” he says as he continues staring. ”I think we’re comin’ down now though.”

”Probably a good thing though.”

”Hey,” he says as he pulls himself back inside the car. ”Can we talk about Lackawana?” he asks.

I shoot him a puzzled look while pondering before it dawns on me.

”...you mean Lycana?”

”Yeah that’s what I said,” he insists.

”You said Lackawana,” I say with a laugh.

”No I didn’t,” he shoots a smile back in return. ”Anyway what’s goin’ on there?”

”Nothing,” I answer him and he stares at me for a few moments in disbelief. ”I’m serious man. Nothing is or will be going on between me and Lycana.

“I enjoyed the flirting and all that but...”

”A lot of people flirt with you,” he argues.

”Yeah and its never not fun,” I admit. ”Lycana is the Left Hand and I don’t have relationships with despicable people just for fun. That’s what I told her that night on Warfare after Edgar beat her.”

”Really?”

”Not in those exact words, but before Baphailure took off, they branded Alias and they threatened your life and I’m not about to turn my back on my best friend and his friend simply to get my dick wet.

“I can get that anywhere.”

”That’s kind of a relief to hear.”

”She might not have been the one performing those particular acts but association matters to me.

“Maybe I shoulda fucked her though,” I say with a smile.

”Ewww! No, why?”

”To find out what that left hand is all about,” I joke. ”I feel like we been sitting here for ten minutes, what the fuck is up with this light?”

”Maybe its stuck,” Corey offers as he looks around at the nonexistent traffic. ”Thad, I think I figured out why the light isn’t changing.”

”Oh do tell.”

”Because its a stop sign,” he informs me and I shoot my head to the right and low and behold, a stop sign appears on the corner.

”Son of a bitch,” I mutter as I pull the car through the intersection and into the Denny’s parking lot.


Inside America’s Diner, Corey and I sit quietly perusing the menu and downing our drinks in seconds.

”So what’ll it be?” asks the waitress as she sits on her leg beside Corey in the booth after setting down a couple refills.

”Um can I ask about your specials?” he asks a little timidly.

”Sure!” she answers excitedly. I think she likes him. ”We have...”

I zone out as she speaks, just sitting here drinking my Dr. Pepper.

”We’ll just take it all,” I say as she finishes up. Her and Corey both stare at me.

”That’s like...”

”...a lot of fucking food,” she finishes his thought.

”I said what I said,” I say as my stomach growls in hunger. ”We’ll take all the specials.”

Later, Corey and I are both lying back on the booths, lingering dangerously close to food coma.

”Why did you order so much food?” Corey asks as he stares at his eyelids.

”I was hungry,” I answer him. ”Plus, I didn’t realize it’d be like thirteen different plates.”

”Bet the cooks were fuckin’ pissed.”

”Together?” the waitress interrupts.

”Why does everyone think we’re gay!?” Corey blurts out as he sits straight up in the booth. Clearly his insecurities have not gone away.

”Relax killer,” I say to him as I sit up. ”She’s asking about the check.”

”Oh I guess that makes sense.”

”One is fine,” I inform the waitress as she sets it down.

”I’ll take it when you’re ready,” she says as she starts to walk away.

”Corey I think she was talking about you,” I say with a smile. His face turns red and she giggles as she walks away. ”Well I’ll say one thing about those almonds… my thigh doesn’t hurt anymore.”


Some Time Later



[Image: ragrTBS.jpg]



What a trip it has been and what a ride. Corey steers the Lincoln into the valet parking spot outside our hotel and he and I both get out and stretch.

”I need a nap… and a toilet. Not in that order.”

”I was just thinking the same thing,” he says as he hands the keys off to the valet attendant.

”What a strange fucking trip its been man,” I say as we head for the door. He nods in agreement.

….


….


”Excuse me, language...” comes a voice from behind us. Corey and I stop suddenly and stare at each other wide eyed.

”Cinderelli,” we say quietly.


Are we feeling the heat Thunder Knuckles? Do you think we’re feeling the heat? Do you think we’ve lost confidence because two out of shape blowhards filled a couple promos with playground insults, hot air, and a parody? It takes more than you got to shake this confidence my man.

I have literally never heard anyone talk so much and say so little as Thunder Knuckles has in this promo fest. He’s spent his time telling everyone thirty different ways that “Thad promos are boring.” Gee. Never fucking heard that before. And it works none of the time and I really don’t suspect this time will be any different.

Thunder Knucks… my man if you don’t want to remember the past. If you don’t want to reflect on that title, then why do you continuously bring it up?

“He’s gonna say it Robbie. I’m calling it now! Thad’s gonna talk about the TV title that I don’t care about anymore even though I keep bringing it up and…”

Do you see how easy it is to bait you into talking about what you didn’t want to talk about? I spent all of twentty seconds setting that trap and watched you walk right into it and it didn’t even cost me any xbux. What the fuck are you even talking about the mask for dipshit? I didn’t wear the mask in the match and what that proves is that you wouldn’t have beaten me with or without it. Despite the mask, I wasn’t really hiding who lurked beneath it.

See how that works? I’m not supposed to talk about a match last summer, but he can bring up the mask I didn’t wear in that same match last summer. For a guy that didn’t want to talk about it, you sure as shit droned on and on about it didn’t you?

That’s what sets guys like you apart from guys like me. People like you, talk. People like me, listen.

TK do you realize how stupid you sound when you say Doc carried my dead weight to the tag titles? Do you realize who won that match for Continuum? Or are you just throwing your own shit at the wall at generic insults and just saying whatever your shit lands on? That’s what it sounds like my man. You can think as little of me as you want to, it makes no difference to me or anyone else but you. Facts are reality and the fact is I won the tag team championship for Continuum and the reality of that situation is we are, and Sunday night will still be the reigning defending tag team champions. At least you have that tag team turmoil to fall back on so you can get back to climbing those rankings for your third unsuccessful shot.

Maybe I ranted about Page, as you two so cleverly pointed out, and no it had nothing to do with this match but unlike one of you, at least I said something relevant to the task we all have before us. Even an unrelatable tirade is better than no tirade. Talking about you for even just a little bit is better than not talking about us at all.

Right?

I’mma just say on the record that our prediction that we’d be facing Them No Good Bastards at March Madness had less to do with Robbie and Thunder Knuckles than it did the opponents they were facing. I mean, c’mon… Morbid Angel and Mastermind? The highly undecorated tag team of Jobber Juan and Jobber TwoTree would give those assholes a run for their money. It wasn’t exactly rocket science to predict. It didn’t take a fuckin laboratory, not a calculator, not even an abacus.

Yep guys, yer gud.

Feel better now?

They’re coming for us like a tsunami, oh golly, whatever will we do?

We’re defending the titles, Corey’s beating “rookies”, I’m beating nobodies, Them No Good Bitches are beating teams of nobodies… So I guess we’re all on equal footing then. Sure doesn’t seem like a fuckin tsunami. Apparently being relevant, in their minds, means beating nobodies and hoping someone besides them gives an actual fuck.

The difference between what I think and what they think, is that I know beating nobodies like Wylde and Little D does nothing for me. They think beating nobodies like Salt & Pepper and Morbid and Double M does anything but lead them right to the doorstep of another loss when it counts.

Robbie thinks that because I spend a few minutes talking about something else or someone else that that somehow means I’m not focused on them as opponents. If all you’re doing as looking at the surface, which is all they’ve done with anything said in their direction, they’re missing the torpedoes coming at them ready to blow their hull and sink their little pirate ship.

We’ve seen you coming for two months. It isn’t because you’re some spectacular tag team. It isn’t because you guys are full speed ahead. It isn’t because we’re “afraid” of big bad Robbie Bourbon and his baby boy TK. It’s because all of the other relevant tag teams have found themselves either losing or waiting to lose to the former and future King of the XWF, Doc D’Ville.

Come Sunday night I hope you bring your fat pants, because Corey and I are about to give you more than you can possibly eat and that’s actually saying a lot… I didn’t start out with that intending to be a fat joke but here we are…

March Madness is on our doorsteps and the shiny trinkets you seems so ready for? They stay where they belong: in Continuum’s Kingdom.


[Image: UmZtMlt.png]
]]> <![CDATA[Astral Feast Part 1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40270 Sat, 27 Mar 2021 20:18:06 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40270
Hosting the tournament dinner provided the perfect opportunity for Demos to score favors with the old guard. Demos had been given a lot in this federation, but still he knew there was more space on his plate. He had been carrying the television championship with him for almost half a year- far outpacing anyone else in recent memory. As the television champion Demos had headlined numerous shows and successfully defended against the likes of Jenny Myst and former universal champion Azrael Erebus. Demos had cherished the golden plate every moment that he had it.

But still, despite his passion for the television division, there was a nagging thought lingering constantly in the back of his mind….

What if the Demos was meant for more?

What if this record television reign must end for something far greater to begin?

Demos shook his head free of the intrusive thoughts. Whether or not he could stomach trading in his precious television championship belt for the biggest cow in the company wasn’t a thought he wished to ponder. Either way Demos knew currying political capital with the ruling figures was a task worth seeing through.

The champion’s ivory kilt swayed in the breeze pushing in from the open windows of the grandiose banquet hall. His sand stained sandals tracked dirt and dust on the marble flooring. Sweat ran down his bare torso like tributaries of the nile. Beads of sweat collected upon the leather strap of the golden belt slung around the champion’s waist.

“It’s all ready for the banquet, my liege!”

Demos nodded gruffly at the tiny servant boy. The small child scampered off as Demos looked over the tables of prepared food. He walked the empty rows between the tables, closely inspecting each dish.

“Okra with garlic coriander sauce, feteer meshaltet, lentil soup, buffalo catfish nuggets, cheeseburgers…..”

Demos stopped as he got to the end of the table. He leaned in closely to inspect the beverages at the end of the line. His eyes drifted from the water, then to the lemonade and the beer, before settling on the red wine placed out in a punch bowl. Demos looked up for a server.

“Take the wine away!”

“Yes, my liege!”

A young female staffer scurried to the wine, quickly packing the bottles away before trying to figure out the easiest way to discard a full punch bowl.

“What was wrong with the wine, Demos?”

Demos narrows his eyes at the red wine in the bowl.

“It is unsavory and absolutely unsatisfactory.”

The female staffer nodded before murmuring softly in confused agreement. Demos turned away before walking across the hall to inspect the seating area and dance floor. Everything was quite satisfactory to the champion, which came as no surprise to him since he had spared no expense in the preparations for this impromptu arrangement.

Demos approached the bar and snagged himself a bottle of fruit flavored rum. He walked over to the far side of the seating area, plopping his ass down onto a folding chair as he settled in for the long night. Demos knew Pasha Pryce just wanted a nice party for the sponsors and the gladiators before the showcase- he didn’t need the champion’s ‘weird vibes’ ruining the pleasant mood. Demos was content to sip his rum and watch the party from the sidelines.

The dwarflike servant boy approached Demos once again, this time with a scroll from a raven in his hand.

“My liege! BWO has just sent word. Miss Fury will not be attending the festivities tonight. They said she is too busy plotting the downfall of humanity to show up to anything that’s not in her contract!”

Demos took a shot from his bottle before wiping his mouth dry.

“I’m glad the wicked wench decided to skip town. Her foul presence would have corrupted the dining hall. She knows the Left Hand is not welcome in my lands. Her treacherous nature would not have earned her a seat at my table. If she had set foot inside this palace her head would be served on a silver platter for the guests to enjoy! She was wise to avoid the Demos entirely. The body of the Demos has laid her to rest before. It would be no great feat for me to do it again.”

“Can you believe she’s ranked thirteenth on the all time top 50?! I was hoping to get her autograph….”

“Such an evil witch should be reviled and treated as an exile: instead, she is embraced with open arms and treated as if she is some sort of ancient power! Power so ancient, in fact, that no one has seen it demonstrated in years.”

Demos rolled his eyes.

“Despite this, her plans with the Left Hand are no doubt an evil of the highest degree. She has been more than content to let me brutalize her cultist compatriots week after week. She has something deeper going on, something more important than the lives of Lycana, Marf, and Ethos. They are not even pawns on her chessboard, they are merely flies buzzing around her orbit that happen to share her dark allegiance.

Fury’s ties to the Left Hand are rooted in a power grabbing scheme like we’ve never seen before. I believe she is intent on unleashing an ultimate evil upon this sleeping world.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible! With oswald’s money and seemingly endless BWO bodies to throw at any mission, she could do terrible things! What can we do?!”

“I’m going to stop her. I will do whatever it takes to stop her schemes before they get off the ground. Even if it means drowning her in her own blood as my iron grip crushes her cervical vertebra!”

“Her what…”

“Her NECK! Have you seen it? I have. It’s so small, tiny, and daint. My hands could wrap around it twice over. I can’t wait to see her hexing eyes pop out of their sockets from the pressure!”

Demos begins imitating neck squeezing as the servant looks on uncomfortably.

“No one could tear me off of her. I can put an end to her insidious concoctions. She’s already shown she can’t handle my body between the ropes. This body was too big, too massive, too strong for her back in January. Nothing has changed now except for the convictions and ambitions of the soul inside this vessel. When I see her I will leave her body a lifeless husk. It would be my honor to serve the people by dispatching of this loathsome witch once and for all.”

“Uh huh...yes, my liege….I, uh, think I’m needed in the kitchen….”

The servant hightails it across the room as the Demos takes another drink. A few minutes of silence roll by prompting Demos to take a few more swigs.

Fuzz was the first to arrive, showing up to the party nearly twenty minutes before it’s advertised start. The once great champion was decorated from head to toe in pelts and hides from mid tier game. A true sheep in wolf's clothing, Fuzz wandered around aimlessly for fifteen minutes before helping himself to three drinks before the party had even begun. Demos turned to a nearby servant adjusting the tablecloths.

“Does he always come so soon?”

The servant looks up inquisitively with a nod and a smile.

‘If Atara is to be believed, yes. Although she may be blowing hot air since Shawn did recently insinuate that she was a whore, of course he was behind a mask at the time….”

“Yeah, behind a mask alright…a mask of narcotics and liquors! Shawn is a weak and insecure man. His kind always find themselves falling off the wagon after a few good months. He could never stay true to a woman looking for commitment and intimacy. He can’t stay true to himself, let alone to a lover!

Shawn is an addict. Before his short ride at the top he was as nasy as they come. The track marks on his arms tell the whole story. He may have a fondness for Atara, but his true love has always been the needle. It is no surprise that he would insult his romance partner as soon as it became convenient for him. He would throw her under the bus for a bag of heroin, no doubt!

It’s a shame what happened to him, isn’t it? I can’t help but feel sympathy for the men caught up in struggles they are so unprepared to handle. When he held that universal championship he felt like he didn’t need to dope. The amazing feeling of being a champion, of being the guy, it’s incredible.

But when he lost that feeling?

He turned to his dirty fix. He went off to some other woman’s house and frolicked in her bedsheets. He roamed the independent circuit, fighting in lesser federations for the easy wins, hoping to heal his bruised ego.

He couldn’t stand the shame and embarrassment of being caught off guard. He couldn’t stomach the idea of coming back to the XWF. He had to mask his feelings with the boozin’ and shootin’. He could only suffer coming back if he could mask it all, give himself a comfortable distance from his own persona. If he won and became champion again he could take the mask off. It would be an epic return of the true champion.

But when he lost it was no skin off his nutsack. His ego was unblemished. He could hide the failure behind the mask. He could remain anonymous, his record untainted.”

“But he told everyone!”

“What choice did he have? The arrogant fool…”

Demos chuckled to the servant as the entertainment walked through the door. Demos had emptied his coffers to bring in some of the best gogo dancers in the region. Betsy Granger, the Themis girls, Champagne the vegas stripper, and Calypso all began to set up their stations in preparation for the soon to be arriving guests. The girls got their tip jars out and climbed up onto their platforms. The orchestra began to play some fine tunes as the women began to grind and twerk. The eyes of the Demos were drawn to Atara in particular.

“Fuzz knew Atara would expose his secrets. He knew that his scorned lover would air his dirty laundry. He had never been faithful to her….so why should she return a favor never given?

That selfish prick tried to undercut her. He wanted to take the wind out of her sails and get ahead of the curve. He let the world know the truth before he let her promotional material drop.

It’s not even like he needs any help getting past the elite eight. Just look at the guy. He looks the type that knows a thing or two about beating women. I’m sure it will be just another typical Sunday night for him when he steps between those ropes.”

Demos narrowed his eyes at Shawn as he shook his head disparagingly.

“If that woman beating toothpick makes it to the finals I will let the fists of justice rain down upon him. He will regret the time that he stepped into the ring with the Demos. The way he treats women is disgusting, yet all too common in our society. Women are degraded, turned into holes and punching bags by entitled asswipes like Warstein. I’m sure Atara’s not the first woman he’s slept around on, lied to, talked dirty on. I’m sure she’s not the first woman to stir his rage.

If I see him tomorrow night I will seek justice for Atara. The way he treats her can not go on unpunished. I will land every blow on him that she wishes she could have landed all those times he cornered her against the bedroom wall and ‘practiced for his big match’.”

The servant gulps as anger flashes across the champion’s face. Demos stares at the servant for a few moments before waving them away. The servant wipes the sweat from their brow as they turn to flee the scene. Demos takes another drink of his sweet nectar as he waits for the party to fill out.

Sure enough the remaining gladiators and wealthy sponsors arrive one by one with only a few exceptions. Doc D’Ville, Emperor Lane, and Pasha Pryce all seem to be running fashionably late to the big bash. While the rest of the partygoers mingle, dance, and goggle at the sexy women performing on the platforms Demos contents himself with sitting in his chair and drinking his fine rum. The orchestra plays a few songs and folks start to settle in when Demos realizes that he’s nearly out of rum! Demos turns to a nearby server to ask for a refill, but the excited servant speaks first. The young girl blushes while pointing to the large ebony man helping himself to the all you can eat buffalo catfish nuggets.

‘That’s the Williamz prodigy! He gave me this when I bumped into him..”

She pulls out a card with the odds and betting information for the battle royale. Demos grabs it from her.

“He says he’s going to make a fortune betting on himself!”

“Gambling is a vice. A terrible ploy by the house to gain the hard earned wages of working fools. But if it wasn't a capitalist scheme, I’d make a fortune. These odds are spectacular.

Betsy Granger over the mind, body, and soul of the Demos incarnate?”

Demos chuckled.

“Betsy can’t beat the slobish and untrained Charlie Nickles...she has no chance of advancing over an ancient warrior of justice taking the same form. It’s the same story with most of these names! Fury, Atara, Kaye...they’ve all fallen beneath my body before! Whoever came up with these odds is blissfully unaware of our federation’s history.

I see how Andre thought he could become the next Mansa Musa with these odds. But he’s putting his chips down for the wrong horse….poor lad. He’s going to get taken for all he’s got. I hope his uncle has the money to pay for him. We all know poor Andre is known for writing checks his ass can’t cash. If his bank account looks anything like his wrestling record, he’d better hope the bookey accepts goose eggs.

Certainly the betting man puts at least a few coins on the kink with these odds.”

“I wanted to bet on Dean Rose, but they said he wasn’t even eligible!”

“Typical. This bookey nonsense is just a half baked bookey ploy to run the tables on some folks with more dollars than sense. You can’t help but shed a tear for the boys like Andre. He’s going to lose his entire paycheck to this foolishness. I hope for his sake he didn’t plan on betting two matches worth of wages….he’s going to walk away from this business a penniless, stumbling bum like Diesel and Terry Borden.

At least it will be easier to toss him over the top rope without deep pockets weighing him down. It will be no chore because the lad won’t even see it coming. He’s so caught up in blabbering on about Corey that he barely even had time to mention the Demos in his last public address. He seems too caught up in wanting to chase Champagne around the ring to pay the Demos any mind once that bell rings.

He’ll undoubtedly have to be my first target once the match gets underway. Fortune smiles upon the Demos, however, as it will be far too easy to land some crippling kidney shots while Dixon is busy trying to get dicks out with little ol Champagne. Turn him around, land a devil hook drop. Pick him up, do it again. After such devastating trauma he won’t offer much resistance when I go to throw his limp body over the rope.”

“But he’s so big! He’s won so many matches! I’m not sure where, he hasn’t told anyone yet, but he definitely has, I mean, just look at him! He looks like the kind of porn star that is paid to fuck white women for cuckold fetish videos!”

“He’s built like a barnyard bull, that’s for damn sure. But brawn alone doesn’t get you very far in a tournament like this. March Madness? Battle Royales? Dixon never stood a chance. This is his greatest weakness.”

“Oh has he lost a lot of battle royales before or something?”

“Puzzles.”

“Huh?”

“This tournament is the greatest puzzle of them all. It’s all about position. About location. Where are you placing yourself? Where do you think your opponents will be?

Think about the logistics of a battle royale. By the time you’re done counting all the opponents that made it to the ring your ass will be flying first class over the rope! You need to be focused and disciplined. You need to know where you are and where your biggest threats are...but don’t you dare lose focus of the rest of the pack. If you get blinders on you’re going to walk into a landmine. You have to keep your head above the fray and constantly know just where everyone is at while making sure your fists are hitting the right target at all times.

The whole thing is nothing but a grand puzzle, played out with human parts for the amusement of the Emperor. The bodybuilders and sports jocks never stood a chance in this a-”

DA DA DOOO DA DA DA DOOOO DA DA DA DOOOO DOOOOO

Demos and the servant girl both look to the entrance of the dining hall as a loud chorus suddenly rings out in perfect harmony……..]]>
Hosting the tournament dinner provided the perfect opportunity for Demos to score favors with the old guard. Demos had been given a lot in this federation, but still he knew there was more space on his plate. He had been carrying the television championship with him for almost half a year- far outpacing anyone else in recent memory. As the television champion Demos had headlined numerous shows and successfully defended against the likes of Jenny Myst and former universal champion Azrael Erebus. Demos had cherished the golden plate every moment that he had it.

But still, despite his passion for the television division, there was a nagging thought lingering constantly in the back of his mind….

What if the Demos was meant for more?

What if this record television reign must end for something far greater to begin?

Demos shook his head free of the intrusive thoughts. Whether or not he could stomach trading in his precious television championship belt for the biggest cow in the company wasn’t a thought he wished to ponder. Either way Demos knew currying political capital with the ruling figures was a task worth seeing through.

The champion’s ivory kilt swayed in the breeze pushing in from the open windows of the grandiose banquet hall. His sand stained sandals tracked dirt and dust on the marble flooring. Sweat ran down his bare torso like tributaries of the nile. Beads of sweat collected upon the leather strap of the golden belt slung around the champion’s waist.

“It’s all ready for the banquet, my liege!”

Demos nodded gruffly at the tiny servant boy. The small child scampered off as Demos looked over the tables of prepared food. He walked the empty rows between the tables, closely inspecting each dish.

“Okra with garlic coriander sauce, feteer meshaltet, lentil soup, buffalo catfish nuggets, cheeseburgers…..”

Demos stopped as he got to the end of the table. He leaned in closely to inspect the beverages at the end of the line. His eyes drifted from the water, then to the lemonade and the beer, before settling on the red wine placed out in a punch bowl. Demos looked up for a server.

“Take the wine away!”

“Yes, my liege!”

A young female staffer scurried to the wine, quickly packing the bottles away before trying to figure out the easiest way to discard a full punch bowl.

“What was wrong with the wine, Demos?”

Demos narrows his eyes at the red wine in the bowl.

“It is unsavory and absolutely unsatisfactory.”

The female staffer nodded before murmuring softly in confused agreement. Demos turned away before walking across the hall to inspect the seating area and dance floor. Everything was quite satisfactory to the champion, which came as no surprise to him since he had spared no expense in the preparations for this impromptu arrangement.

Demos approached the bar and snagged himself a bottle of fruit flavored rum. He walked over to the far side of the seating area, plopping his ass down onto a folding chair as he settled in for the long night. Demos knew Pasha Pryce just wanted a nice party for the sponsors and the gladiators before the showcase- he didn’t need the champion’s ‘weird vibes’ ruining the pleasant mood. Demos was content to sip his rum and watch the party from the sidelines.

The dwarflike servant boy approached Demos once again, this time with a scroll from a raven in his hand.

“My liege! BWO has just sent word. Miss Fury will not be attending the festivities tonight. They said she is too busy plotting the downfall of humanity to show up to anything that’s not in her contract!”

Demos took a shot from his bottle before wiping his mouth dry.

“I’m glad the wicked wench decided to skip town. Her foul presence would have corrupted the dining hall. She knows the Left Hand is not welcome in my lands. Her treacherous nature would not have earned her a seat at my table. If she had set foot inside this palace her head would be served on a silver platter for the guests to enjoy! She was wise to avoid the Demos entirely. The body of the Demos has laid her to rest before. It would be no great feat for me to do it again.”

“Can you believe she’s ranked thirteenth on the all time top 50?! I was hoping to get her autograph….”

“Such an evil witch should be reviled and treated as an exile: instead, she is embraced with open arms and treated as if she is some sort of ancient power! Power so ancient, in fact, that no one has seen it demonstrated in years.”

Demos rolled his eyes.

“Despite this, her plans with the Left Hand are no doubt an evil of the highest degree. She has been more than content to let me brutalize her cultist compatriots week after week. She has something deeper going on, something more important than the lives of Lycana, Marf, and Ethos. They are not even pawns on her chessboard, they are merely flies buzzing around her orbit that happen to share her dark allegiance.

Fury’s ties to the Left Hand are rooted in a power grabbing scheme like we’ve never seen before. I believe she is intent on unleashing an ultimate evil upon this sleeping world.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible! With oswald’s money and seemingly endless BWO bodies to throw at any mission, she could do terrible things! What can we do?!”

“I’m going to stop her. I will do whatever it takes to stop her schemes before they get off the ground. Even if it means drowning her in her own blood as my iron grip crushes her cervical vertebra!”

“Her what…”

“Her NECK! Have you seen it? I have. It’s so small, tiny, and daint. My hands could wrap around it twice over. I can’t wait to see her hexing eyes pop out of their sockets from the pressure!”

Demos begins imitating neck squeezing as the servant looks on uncomfortably.

“No one could tear me off of her. I can put an end to her insidious concoctions. She’s already shown she can’t handle my body between the ropes. This body was too big, too massive, too strong for her back in January. Nothing has changed now except for the convictions and ambitions of the soul inside this vessel. When I see her I will leave her body a lifeless husk. It would be my honor to serve the people by dispatching of this loathsome witch once and for all.”

“Uh huh...yes, my liege….I, uh, think I’m needed in the kitchen….”

The servant hightails it across the room as the Demos takes another drink. A few minutes of silence roll by prompting Demos to take a few more swigs.

Fuzz was the first to arrive, showing up to the party nearly twenty minutes before it’s advertised start. The once great champion was decorated from head to toe in pelts and hides from mid tier game. A true sheep in wolf's clothing, Fuzz wandered around aimlessly for fifteen minutes before helping himself to three drinks before the party had even begun. Demos turned to a nearby servant adjusting the tablecloths.

“Does he always come so soon?”

The servant looks up inquisitively with a nod and a smile.

‘If Atara is to be believed, yes. Although she may be blowing hot air since Shawn did recently insinuate that she was a whore, of course he was behind a mask at the time….”

“Yeah, behind a mask alright…a mask of narcotics and liquors! Shawn is a weak and insecure man. His kind always find themselves falling off the wagon after a few good months. He could never stay true to a woman looking for commitment and intimacy. He can’t stay true to himself, let alone to a lover!

Shawn is an addict. Before his short ride at the top he was as nasy as they come. The track marks on his arms tell the whole story. He may have a fondness for Atara, but his true love has always been the needle. It is no surprise that he would insult his romance partner as soon as it became convenient for him. He would throw her under the bus for a bag of heroin, no doubt!

It’s a shame what happened to him, isn’t it? I can’t help but feel sympathy for the men caught up in struggles they are so unprepared to handle. When he held that universal championship he felt like he didn’t need to dope. The amazing feeling of being a champion, of being the guy, it’s incredible.

But when he lost that feeling?

He turned to his dirty fix. He went off to some other woman’s house and frolicked in her bedsheets. He roamed the independent circuit, fighting in lesser federations for the easy wins, hoping to heal his bruised ego.

He couldn’t stand the shame and embarrassment of being caught off guard. He couldn’t stomach the idea of coming back to the XWF. He had to mask his feelings with the boozin’ and shootin’. He could only suffer coming back if he could mask it all, give himself a comfortable distance from his own persona. If he won and became champion again he could take the mask off. It would be an epic return of the true champion.

But when he lost it was no skin off his nutsack. His ego was unblemished. He could hide the failure behind the mask. He could remain anonymous, his record untainted.”

“But he told everyone!”

“What choice did he have? The arrogant fool…”

Demos chuckled to the servant as the entertainment walked through the door. Demos had emptied his coffers to bring in some of the best gogo dancers in the region. Betsy Granger, the Themis girls, Champagne the vegas stripper, and Calypso all began to set up their stations in preparation for the soon to be arriving guests. The girls got their tip jars out and climbed up onto their platforms. The orchestra began to play some fine tunes as the women began to grind and twerk. The eyes of the Demos were drawn to Atara in particular.

“Fuzz knew Atara would expose his secrets. He knew that his scorned lover would air his dirty laundry. He had never been faithful to her….so why should she return a favor never given?

That selfish prick tried to undercut her. He wanted to take the wind out of her sails and get ahead of the curve. He let the world know the truth before he let her promotional material drop.

It’s not even like he needs any help getting past the elite eight. Just look at the guy. He looks the type that knows a thing or two about beating women. I’m sure it will be just another typical Sunday night for him when he steps between those ropes.”

Demos narrowed his eyes at Shawn as he shook his head disparagingly.

“If that woman beating toothpick makes it to the finals I will let the fists of justice rain down upon him. He will regret the time that he stepped into the ring with the Demos. The way he treats women is disgusting, yet all too common in our society. Women are degraded, turned into holes and punching bags by entitled asswipes like Warstein. I’m sure Atara’s not the first woman he’s slept around on, lied to, talked dirty on. I’m sure she’s not the first woman to stir his rage.

If I see him tomorrow night I will seek justice for Atara. The way he treats her can not go on unpunished. I will land every blow on him that she wishes she could have landed all those times he cornered her against the bedroom wall and ‘practiced for his big match’.”

The servant gulps as anger flashes across the champion’s face. Demos stares at the servant for a few moments before waving them away. The servant wipes the sweat from their brow as they turn to flee the scene. Demos takes another drink of his sweet nectar as he waits for the party to fill out.

Sure enough the remaining gladiators and wealthy sponsors arrive one by one with only a few exceptions. Doc D’Ville, Emperor Lane, and Pasha Pryce all seem to be running fashionably late to the big bash. While the rest of the partygoers mingle, dance, and goggle at the sexy women performing on the platforms Demos contents himself with sitting in his chair and drinking his fine rum. The orchestra plays a few songs and folks start to settle in when Demos realizes that he’s nearly out of rum! Demos turns to a nearby server to ask for a refill, but the excited servant speaks first. The young girl blushes while pointing to the large ebony man helping himself to the all you can eat buffalo catfish nuggets.

‘That’s the Williamz prodigy! He gave me this when I bumped into him..”

She pulls out a card with the odds and betting information for the battle royale. Demos grabs it from her.

“He says he’s going to make a fortune betting on himself!”

“Gambling is a vice. A terrible ploy by the house to gain the hard earned wages of working fools. But if it wasn't a capitalist scheme, I’d make a fortune. These odds are spectacular.

Betsy Granger over the mind, body, and soul of the Demos incarnate?”

Demos chuckled.

“Betsy can’t beat the slobish and untrained Charlie Nickles...she has no chance of advancing over an ancient warrior of justice taking the same form. It’s the same story with most of these names! Fury, Atara, Kaye...they’ve all fallen beneath my body before! Whoever came up with these odds is blissfully unaware of our federation’s history.

I see how Andre thought he could become the next Mansa Musa with these odds. But he’s putting his chips down for the wrong horse….poor lad. He’s going to get taken for all he’s got. I hope his uncle has the money to pay for him. We all know poor Andre is known for writing checks his ass can’t cash. If his bank account looks anything like his wrestling record, he’d better hope the bookey accepts goose eggs.

Certainly the betting man puts at least a few coins on the kink with these odds.”

“I wanted to bet on Dean Rose, but they said he wasn’t even eligible!”

“Typical. This bookey nonsense is just a half baked bookey ploy to run the tables on some folks with more dollars than sense. You can’t help but shed a tear for the boys like Andre. He’s going to lose his entire paycheck to this foolishness. I hope for his sake he didn’t plan on betting two matches worth of wages….he’s going to walk away from this business a penniless, stumbling bum like Diesel and Terry Borden.

At least it will be easier to toss him over the top rope without deep pockets weighing him down. It will be no chore because the lad won’t even see it coming. He’s so caught up in blabbering on about Corey that he barely even had time to mention the Demos in his last public address. He seems too caught up in wanting to chase Champagne around the ring to pay the Demos any mind once that bell rings.

He’ll undoubtedly have to be my first target once the match gets underway. Fortune smiles upon the Demos, however, as it will be far too easy to land some crippling kidney shots while Dixon is busy trying to get dicks out with little ol Champagne. Turn him around, land a devil hook drop. Pick him up, do it again. After such devastating trauma he won’t offer much resistance when I go to throw his limp body over the rope.”

“But he’s so big! He’s won so many matches! I’m not sure where, he hasn’t told anyone yet, but he definitely has, I mean, just look at him! He looks like the kind of porn star that is paid to fuck white women for cuckold fetish videos!”

“He’s built like a barnyard bull, that’s for damn sure. But brawn alone doesn’t get you very far in a tournament like this. March Madness? Battle Royales? Dixon never stood a chance. This is his greatest weakness.”

“Oh has he lost a lot of battle royales before or something?”

“Puzzles.”

“Huh?”

“This tournament is the greatest puzzle of them all. It’s all about position. About location. Where are you placing yourself? Where do you think your opponents will be?

Think about the logistics of a battle royale. By the time you’re done counting all the opponents that made it to the ring your ass will be flying first class over the rope! You need to be focused and disciplined. You need to know where you are and where your biggest threats are...but don’t you dare lose focus of the rest of the pack. If you get blinders on you’re going to walk into a landmine. You have to keep your head above the fray and constantly know just where everyone is at while making sure your fists are hitting the right target at all times.

The whole thing is nothing but a grand puzzle, played out with human parts for the amusement of the Emperor. The bodybuilders and sports jocks never stood a chance in this a-”

DA DA DOOO DA DA DA DOOOO DA DA DA DOOOO DOOOOO

Demos and the servant girl both look to the entrance of the dining hall as a loud chorus suddenly rings out in perfect harmony……..]]>