<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Leap Of Faith 2021 RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Thu, 09 Apr 2026 22:48:54 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Rebirth of the Nickleman]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40964 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:59:02 -0700 Thrax]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40964 We open with a shot of Thrax sitting at an antique wooden table with minimal lighting behind him. The elaborately concealed man is tapping his nails against the wooden tabletop as the camera zooms in on him.

The long night is finally ending. Tomorrow, a new sun will rise across the sky. As the duality of humanity burdens us all, so too shall I burden the moon with my shining brilliance.

Thrax stops tapping his nails as a tarot card flies out of his sleeve. Thrax holds the card face up with his right hand in front of the camera.

[Image: 320px-RWS_Tarot_19_Sun.jpg]

The sun card has been drawn: the game is all but over.

Thrax snaps the fingers on his left hand and lets go of the tarot card. When Thrax releases his grip the sun card stays elevated.

Tarot cards contain immense power within them. The tides of destiny, the strands of fate: they are imperceivable to the human eye. As mere beings we are constantly torn between the multitude of paths before us. We can think, we can know, and we can try to act on that knowledge: but what is knowledge?

Mere illusion. Mere fantasy. Knowledge is nothing more than a hunch in this magical world.

Only the tarot cards can speak with certainty.

Thrax looks over to the sun card floating slightly to his left.

Corey Smith does not adequate knowledge to see what his magic fingers drew from the deck.

The sun card is the trump card. The sun card is the sign of rebirth, of renewed rigor.

The child on the card…….

Thrax points one of his nails...or perhaps, claws….at the small child riding the white horse.

Is the strongest man in the universe. In the tarot deck this child signifies the return of life and the fulfilling of destiny.

This child is an awe inspring creature, one unperturbed by the twin devils of fear and anxiety. There is nothing that can keep this child down, keep this child from dreaming of their future….from reaching for it and making it a reality.

Have you ever been around children, Corey Smith? I have.

Have you ever beat a child, Corey Smith? I have.

They don’t stay depressed for long. Within a matter of hours they have regained their optimism and their spirits. Every single day that a child wakes up, they experience a whole new world to explore. To conquer. Despite the reality of their past, the child can always find a shining path towards success.

The child is a joyous one. This child is unbound, imaginative, and free to roam where it pleases.

Thrax’s claw drifts down to the white horse on the card.

The horse represents magical assistance. The child, an optimistic creature, can never fail so long as that horse is beneath him. The horse has blessed the child with greatness, for the child is the most deserving of all.

Those that dwell in the past, those that cling to their negativity, those that refuse to grow or adapt...will never be chosen by the white horse of greatness. Men like DOCK….will never know the sweet saddle of the white horse. Men like DOCK cling to their failures, obsess over them, change their entire identity in the face of one obstacle. Men like DOCK have succumbed to the age old temptations, men like DOCK have fallen into the darkness never to return.

The sun may have shined brightly upon Doc’s armor at one time….but now? Now he has lost his path. He has fallen into an abyssal crater of his own making…..the white horse of greatness will never choose DOCK again. The white horse of greatness has already chosen another in this race- isn’t that right, Corey Smith?

The white horse of greatness has chosen ME to sit in it’s saddle upon the moon.

But how could you blame it for choosing me?

I am everything so many wish they could be. I am a record breaker, I am a trendsetter, I am a RELENTLESS foe.

My resume is nearly as long as my list of victims. The longest reigning television champion of all time, the most decorated heavymetalweight champion of all time, superstar of the month, man of the hour: I’ve been all that and then some.

But I don’t dwell on my past. My gaze is fixed on my future.

On RECLAIMING my stolen body! On expelling that communist filth from my body! On flying down from the moon with a briefcase and your stolen honor! On becoming what I was always destined to be….a universal champion.

I am the man everyone has been talking about, yet no one has talked about me at all.

I find myself in this quiet quagmire….in this isolated conundrum.

But still I hold no fear. Still I know what I must do to reach the pinnacle. I could drown in your silence yet still I would come back and take what is rightfully mine.

That’s why the white horse chose ME for the ride to greatness.

But what about you, Corey Smith? What do the cards of divinity have to say about your fate upon the moon?

Thrax cocked his head to the side as he stared into the camera. The man snapped his fingers and the card did a 180. A new piece of art was elevated directly to the left of Thrax’s body.

[Image: IMG_0399.JPG]


The reverse king of cups. A classic, albeit tragic, card.

You see folks, Corey Smith is so desperate with trying to control his world that has lost every semblance of control altogether. He thinks he sits oh so high on his throne, looking down at the peasants below…..but in truth he is sinking. Sinking, sinking, sinking…..

Losing to THUNDER KNUCKLES? A man I have defeated countless times? A man who has never defeated me for a championship belt? A man whose skull I turned concave?

Could the man who tops the XWF top 50 really sink THAT low?

No, never.

But COREY SMITH could.

But Corey Smith likes to pretend he’s still the engineer, doesn’t he? Not interpersonally, of course: oh no no. But on camera? He’ll take credit for The Engineer’s work all day long. For Engy’s greatness, for Engy’s victories, for Engy’s legendary status…..

Corey Smith reminds me of another identity thief. Just like Demos, Corey Smith is infatuated with taking credit for things he never did, for things he will never be able to do.

Corey Smith has NEVER won a singles championship. Not. Once. Neither has Demos: yet still both men feel the urge to take credit for the legacy of another. Well, unless you feel so inclined to count those spinning trinkets that Vinnie Lane passes out.

Corey Smith has NEVER won a CHAMPIONSHIP, of any kind! Don’t you recall, folks, who it was that defeated Cataclysm to win the tag team gold? It wasn’t Corey Smith. He never WON the gold. Did he defend? Yes, and valiantly so, as long as Doc D’Ville was beside him. But now Doc has added the first of three Ks to his name and now Corey Smith longs for another chance at holding gold.

It is no surprise that Demos and Corey Smith both chose to enter this match…..how else could either of them win a championship? They’ve both proven countless times over that they're incapable of the feat. One through countless failures, one through countless ‘missed’ opportunities…..but you never really ‘missed’ an opportunity, did you, Corey?

You refuse to take them!

You are so afraid of failure that you refuse to put yourself out there and risk it all along the way.

You couldn’t enter the King of the Ring because you were only at ‘90%’? You couldn’t man up and challenge Chris Page to a match because he’s…..not a good enough champion? I mean, he has only defeated scrubs like Demos, Edgar, Drew, and THADDEUS DUKE, so clearly that is a man that is beneath Corey’s impeccable status.

Corey Smith seems to have planted an entirely new type of tree in his luxurious mansion. It seems that every time Corey Smith walks out to shoot a promo a new batch of excuses fall from the sky and land into his lap! Demos will have to get himself one of those….if he survives long enough to come back to Earth, that is.

But really, Corey Smith: what kind of a pussy will only enter a match at peak physical health? We put each other through tables, we bash each other with chairs, we cut each other open with barbed wire! Not a single man or woman on this roster can truthfully claim to be free of aches and pains! It’s the curse of the professional wrestler: the show must go on, even when YOU can not. You must FIND a way to deliver, ALWAYS.

Unless you’re Corey Smith.

Then you can hide behind the accomplishments of another man while doing the bare minimum in-ring to skate by.

The white horse of greatness has chosen ME because I have ALWAYS taken a leap of faith in myself: I never skirt a challenge or doubt my capacity. I am always ready for the fight. I wanted all the smoke, all your fire Corey Smith: but you made a classic mistake.

A Ghost Tank mistake, if you will.

You see Corey Smith….you’re the classic King of Cups in reverse. You think your empire untouchable, you think yourself to be moving pieces across the chess board like an all knowing leviathan. You sent your armies out to wage war, knowing that they would slaughter your enemies and salt their fields. But Corey Smith….your own arrogance is achilles heel.

You sent your soldiers to the wrong battlefield. You misjudged the field: you mistook name recognition for superstar power.

You failed to see what was in front of you, no matter how obvious I made it. No matter how many times I referenced my championship reigns, my esteemed pedigree, or my impervious vitality, Corey Smith could never read the signs. At least Jim Caedus TRIED to read the signs….it’s just such a shame the poor boy is dyslexic!

Thrax snapped his fingers again and the card flew at the camera, bouncing off the lens.

Your famed insight has failed you, Corey Smith. It has failed you twice over.

First, you made the ghost tank mistake. You emptied your load before the battle had even begun. You are all out of rockets, all out of artillery. What hope can you have when I begin to mow you down from afar? From beyond your wildest dreams? What hope does a resourceless man have of overcoming a siege?

And secondly, Corey Smith: you forgot to count all the pieces on the board. In your hastiness you grew sloppy, careless. You lost track of the enemy, my movements must have never reached your scouting reports.

Shame.

On you.

For being so self-assured, so smug, so egotistical that you never thought for a second an unknown entity could come in and knock your jaw off.

You may have stated my name a thousand times during the past two weeks, but each time you spoke it to an imposter! Each time you dragged my name through the mud, you thought only in reference to that grotesque man in the sweaty mask. Every time my name escaped your lips, you misspoke. Every time you thought you were calling me week, every time you thought you were impugning my achievements, you were really just referencing my shadow on the wall.
And what good will it do you to fight my shadow when the real thing stands before you on the moon? What good will it do to be under the illusion that another, far weaker man, IS me? What good will that do you when I’m bashing your brains out on the dark side of the moon?!?!

You have blinders on. You have tunnel vision. But how can we blame you? You were just following the crowd! The esteemed Corey Smith was just doing what everyone else was doing by ignoring the true threats before him!

And guess what? When we reach the moon, Corey Smith will continue playing along with the crowd. Corey Smith will continue doing exactly what DOCK, Jim, Demos, and Chaos have been doing all this time: losing.

Check. Mate.


End Scene


We cut to a shot of a burned up carcass sitting across from the Djinn that ‘saved’ him from hell. The two are seated across from each other at an ornate golden table. Xian looks up at Thrax with a determination in her eye.

“Do you understand your mission?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what you must do?”

“Yes.”

Thrax’s urge to roll his eyes was nearly overwhelming, but he was able to conceal it. The Djinn had been nothing but a demanding bitch ever since she ‘freed’ Thrax from hell. Thrax was growing tired of her constant nagging and second-guessing, but he knew he would soon be free from her grasp if he just played the role a little while longer.

“Do you know how you’re going to do it?”

“Why don’t you tell me again, master, so that I don’t forget?”

Thrax’s defeated tone sounded so natural that the Djinn didn’t question it for a second.

“I’m going to go over the whole plan with you again, so that you don’t forget it anymore.

Step 1: I am going to bring you back to the mortal plane, which I can not cross into. I will repair your wounds and outfit you with the appropriate gear for the occasion.

But remember: don’t stay on the mortal plane for too long, darling. Normally I would put you back in your old corpse and let you wander the physical realm as my ghoul, but alas, your body is being put to use by another at the moment, so we will make do with what we must.

Step 2: You will weasel your way into the dissentients. I’ll give you the perfect outfit for it. Marf has always been distracted by fancy capes and bright colors. Him and Lycana won’t think twice about accepting such a demonic aesthetic into their ranks.

Step 3: You cost the dissentients their matches at Leap of Faith.”

“And then?”

Thrax asked, already knowing the answer.

“And then I give you a pat on the back and send you on your merry way. I believe you were just about to visit the second layer of hell, yes?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Thrax was barely able to conceal the venom behind his words. He had no intention of going along with the Djinn’s plans. Thrax had seen enough of a hell for a lifetime.

“Alright then, I have prepared you to the best of my ability. Come back to me in one piece, child of hell, and Rolfe may just take pity on you and bring you into our fold…”

Thrax knew the woman was full of shit. Thrax knew that he was nothing but a tool to her, nothing but an object to be put to use. Thrax knew that the light at the end of this tunnel was nothing but a death sentence….he knew he would have to burst through the ceiling to escape the oncoming train.

“I am ready for the mission, master.”

The Djinn smiled before standing up. With the snap of her fingers a green portal appeared directly behind the charred corpse.

“Go on then, child of hell. Carry out our will!”

Thrax rose to his feet and made eye contact with the woman of Marf’s nightmares. Before he turned to leave, the Djinn spoke to him one last time.

“Tell me, soldier of fortune: what do you want most in this world? Perhaps, if you carry out your mission flawlessly, I could convince Rolfe to have it waiting for you when you’re done.”

Thrax scowled at the woman as he bore his canines at her.

“I WANT MY HUMANITY BACK!”

The Djinn’s eyes widened as she went to snap the portal closed. It was too late. Thrax ducked through the green portal seconds before the Djinn was able to close it!

“No...no…..no….I must no tell Rolfe!”

The scene fades to black as the camera zooms in on the Djinn's horrified face.

End Scene


I was going to let Jim Caedus do the honors of introducing me to the field, but it appears the pussycat folded his hand as soon as his bluff was called. He thought he knew what was swirling around in the darkness around him. He spoke to it, in hushed whispers, during the middle of his second vignette. He knew what was happening….he aimed his rifle, he set his sights on his target, and then he pulled the trigger. Imagine Jim’s surprise when his magic bullet hit nothing but the shadow on the wall.

Jim Caedus thought, for a brief moment, that he had broken free from my webs of deception. But in truth, he couldn’t have been more wrong…..

All this time I was sure it would be the mighty Doc D’Ville who would see through my cheap ploys and distracting tactics. Doc and I had fought before, a legendary bout atop a snow covered roof. Doc is a professional, Doc is a psychological genius. Doc is able to cut through falsehoods like a knife through butter.

Doc is trained in the art of dispelling deception, he’s accredited in the field.

But it appears that DOCK is nowhere near the mental giant that Doc once was.

It appears that Doc D’Ville has found himself in my unfortunate position: he has been cast out of his body and forced to watch the ensuing trainwreck. DOCK is too busy obsessing over his own failures in the ring to take a gander at the men standing across from him.

Doc D’Ville knows me well...he knows how I speak, he knows how I act, he knows how I THINK. Doc D’Ville has always had a counter for each and every one of my assaults….but DOCK? He just doesn’t have it in him. That little voice inside of his head, the one that did all the thinking, it seems to have vanished alongside the true D’Ville. What a shame. I was hoping to rebirth my legacy by destroying that of the good doctor’s. It’s a pity that I have to settle for the man that stands in his place.

DOCK couldn’t decipher the clues. Jim couldn’t decipher the clues. Chris and Corey never even tried…..

But perhaps SOME of you have caught on to my sly tricks by now. Perhaps, by now, some of you have started to decipher the writing on the wall.

But for those of you who are still trapped in the darkness, allow me to introduce myself…..

Thrax pulled back his latex mask and exposed his true face for the world to see.




]]> We open with a shot of Thrax sitting at an antique wooden table with minimal lighting behind him. The elaborately concealed man is tapping his nails against the wooden tabletop as the camera zooms in on him.

The long night is finally ending. Tomorrow, a new sun will rise across the sky. As the duality of humanity burdens us all, so too shall I burden the moon with my shining brilliance.

Thrax stops tapping his nails as a tarot card flies out of his sleeve. Thrax holds the card face up with his right hand in front of the camera.

[Image: 320px-RWS_Tarot_19_Sun.jpg]

The sun card has been drawn: the game is all but over.

Thrax snaps the fingers on his left hand and lets go of the tarot card. When Thrax releases his grip the sun card stays elevated.

Tarot cards contain immense power within them. The tides of destiny, the strands of fate: they are imperceivable to the human eye. As mere beings we are constantly torn between the multitude of paths before us. We can think, we can know, and we can try to act on that knowledge: but what is knowledge?

Mere illusion. Mere fantasy. Knowledge is nothing more than a hunch in this magical world.

Only the tarot cards can speak with certainty.

Thrax looks over to the sun card floating slightly to his left.

Corey Smith does not adequate knowledge to see what his magic fingers drew from the deck.

The sun card is the trump card. The sun card is the sign of rebirth, of renewed rigor.

The child on the card…….

Thrax points one of his nails...or perhaps, claws….at the small child riding the white horse.

Is the strongest man in the universe. In the tarot deck this child signifies the return of life and the fulfilling of destiny.

This child is an awe inspring creature, one unperturbed by the twin devils of fear and anxiety. There is nothing that can keep this child down, keep this child from dreaming of their future….from reaching for it and making it a reality.

Have you ever been around children, Corey Smith? I have.

Have you ever beat a child, Corey Smith? I have.

They don’t stay depressed for long. Within a matter of hours they have regained their optimism and their spirits. Every single day that a child wakes up, they experience a whole new world to explore. To conquer. Despite the reality of their past, the child can always find a shining path towards success.

The child is a joyous one. This child is unbound, imaginative, and free to roam where it pleases.

Thrax’s claw drifts down to the white horse on the card.

The horse represents magical assistance. The child, an optimistic creature, can never fail so long as that horse is beneath him. The horse has blessed the child with greatness, for the child is the most deserving of all.

Those that dwell in the past, those that cling to their negativity, those that refuse to grow or adapt...will never be chosen by the white horse of greatness. Men like DOCK….will never know the sweet saddle of the white horse. Men like DOCK cling to their failures, obsess over them, change their entire identity in the face of one obstacle. Men like DOCK have succumbed to the age old temptations, men like DOCK have fallen into the darkness never to return.

The sun may have shined brightly upon Doc’s armor at one time….but now? Now he has lost his path. He has fallen into an abyssal crater of his own making…..the white horse of greatness will never choose DOCK again. The white horse of greatness has already chosen another in this race- isn’t that right, Corey Smith?

The white horse of greatness has chosen ME to sit in it’s saddle upon the moon.

But how could you blame it for choosing me?

I am everything so many wish they could be. I am a record breaker, I am a trendsetter, I am a RELENTLESS foe.

My resume is nearly as long as my list of victims. The longest reigning television champion of all time, the most decorated heavymetalweight champion of all time, superstar of the month, man of the hour: I’ve been all that and then some.

But I don’t dwell on my past. My gaze is fixed on my future.

On RECLAIMING my stolen body! On expelling that communist filth from my body! On flying down from the moon with a briefcase and your stolen honor! On becoming what I was always destined to be….a universal champion.

I am the man everyone has been talking about, yet no one has talked about me at all.

I find myself in this quiet quagmire….in this isolated conundrum.

But still I hold no fear. Still I know what I must do to reach the pinnacle. I could drown in your silence yet still I would come back and take what is rightfully mine.

That’s why the white horse chose ME for the ride to greatness.

But what about you, Corey Smith? What do the cards of divinity have to say about your fate upon the moon?

Thrax cocked his head to the side as he stared into the camera. The man snapped his fingers and the card did a 180. A new piece of art was elevated directly to the left of Thrax’s body.

[Image: IMG_0399.JPG]


The reverse king of cups. A classic, albeit tragic, card.

You see folks, Corey Smith is so desperate with trying to control his world that has lost every semblance of control altogether. He thinks he sits oh so high on his throne, looking down at the peasants below…..but in truth he is sinking. Sinking, sinking, sinking…..

Losing to THUNDER KNUCKLES? A man I have defeated countless times? A man who has never defeated me for a championship belt? A man whose skull I turned concave?

Could the man who tops the XWF top 50 really sink THAT low?

No, never.

But COREY SMITH could.

But Corey Smith likes to pretend he’s still the engineer, doesn’t he? Not interpersonally, of course: oh no no. But on camera? He’ll take credit for The Engineer’s work all day long. For Engy’s greatness, for Engy’s victories, for Engy’s legendary status…..

Corey Smith reminds me of another identity thief. Just like Demos, Corey Smith is infatuated with taking credit for things he never did, for things he will never be able to do.

Corey Smith has NEVER won a singles championship. Not. Once. Neither has Demos: yet still both men feel the urge to take credit for the legacy of another. Well, unless you feel so inclined to count those spinning trinkets that Vinnie Lane passes out.

Corey Smith has NEVER won a CHAMPIONSHIP, of any kind! Don’t you recall, folks, who it was that defeated Cataclysm to win the tag team gold? It wasn’t Corey Smith. He never WON the gold. Did he defend? Yes, and valiantly so, as long as Doc D’Ville was beside him. But now Doc has added the first of three Ks to his name and now Corey Smith longs for another chance at holding gold.

It is no surprise that Demos and Corey Smith both chose to enter this match…..how else could either of them win a championship? They’ve both proven countless times over that they're incapable of the feat. One through countless failures, one through countless ‘missed’ opportunities…..but you never really ‘missed’ an opportunity, did you, Corey?

You refuse to take them!

You are so afraid of failure that you refuse to put yourself out there and risk it all along the way.

You couldn’t enter the King of the Ring because you were only at ‘90%’? You couldn’t man up and challenge Chris Page to a match because he’s…..not a good enough champion? I mean, he has only defeated scrubs like Demos, Edgar, Drew, and THADDEUS DUKE, so clearly that is a man that is beneath Corey’s impeccable status.

Corey Smith seems to have planted an entirely new type of tree in his luxurious mansion. It seems that every time Corey Smith walks out to shoot a promo a new batch of excuses fall from the sky and land into his lap! Demos will have to get himself one of those….if he survives long enough to come back to Earth, that is.

But really, Corey Smith: what kind of a pussy will only enter a match at peak physical health? We put each other through tables, we bash each other with chairs, we cut each other open with barbed wire! Not a single man or woman on this roster can truthfully claim to be free of aches and pains! It’s the curse of the professional wrestler: the show must go on, even when YOU can not. You must FIND a way to deliver, ALWAYS.

Unless you’re Corey Smith.

Then you can hide behind the accomplishments of another man while doing the bare minimum in-ring to skate by.

The white horse of greatness has chosen ME because I have ALWAYS taken a leap of faith in myself: I never skirt a challenge or doubt my capacity. I am always ready for the fight. I wanted all the smoke, all your fire Corey Smith: but you made a classic mistake.

A Ghost Tank mistake, if you will.

You see Corey Smith….you’re the classic King of Cups in reverse. You think your empire untouchable, you think yourself to be moving pieces across the chess board like an all knowing leviathan. You sent your armies out to wage war, knowing that they would slaughter your enemies and salt their fields. But Corey Smith….your own arrogance is achilles heel.

You sent your soldiers to the wrong battlefield. You misjudged the field: you mistook name recognition for superstar power.

You failed to see what was in front of you, no matter how obvious I made it. No matter how many times I referenced my championship reigns, my esteemed pedigree, or my impervious vitality, Corey Smith could never read the signs. At least Jim Caedus TRIED to read the signs….it’s just such a shame the poor boy is dyslexic!

Thrax snapped his fingers again and the card flew at the camera, bouncing off the lens.

Your famed insight has failed you, Corey Smith. It has failed you twice over.

First, you made the ghost tank mistake. You emptied your load before the battle had even begun. You are all out of rockets, all out of artillery. What hope can you have when I begin to mow you down from afar? From beyond your wildest dreams? What hope does a resourceless man have of overcoming a siege?

And secondly, Corey Smith: you forgot to count all the pieces on the board. In your hastiness you grew sloppy, careless. You lost track of the enemy, my movements must have never reached your scouting reports.

Shame.

On you.

For being so self-assured, so smug, so egotistical that you never thought for a second an unknown entity could come in and knock your jaw off.

You may have stated my name a thousand times during the past two weeks, but each time you spoke it to an imposter! Each time you dragged my name through the mud, you thought only in reference to that grotesque man in the sweaty mask. Every time my name escaped your lips, you misspoke. Every time you thought you were calling me week, every time you thought you were impugning my achievements, you were really just referencing my shadow on the wall.
And what good will it do you to fight my shadow when the real thing stands before you on the moon? What good will it do to be under the illusion that another, far weaker man, IS me? What good will that do you when I’m bashing your brains out on the dark side of the moon?!?!

You have blinders on. You have tunnel vision. But how can we blame you? You were just following the crowd! The esteemed Corey Smith was just doing what everyone else was doing by ignoring the true threats before him!

And guess what? When we reach the moon, Corey Smith will continue playing along with the crowd. Corey Smith will continue doing exactly what DOCK, Jim, Demos, and Chaos have been doing all this time: losing.

Check. Mate.


End Scene


We cut to a shot of a burned up carcass sitting across from the Djinn that ‘saved’ him from hell. The two are seated across from each other at an ornate golden table. Xian looks up at Thrax with a determination in her eye.

“Do you understand your mission?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what you must do?”

“Yes.”

Thrax’s urge to roll his eyes was nearly overwhelming, but he was able to conceal it. The Djinn had been nothing but a demanding bitch ever since she ‘freed’ Thrax from hell. Thrax was growing tired of her constant nagging and second-guessing, but he knew he would soon be free from her grasp if he just played the role a little while longer.

“Do you know how you’re going to do it?”

“Why don’t you tell me again, master, so that I don’t forget?”

Thrax’s defeated tone sounded so natural that the Djinn didn’t question it for a second.

“I’m going to go over the whole plan with you again, so that you don’t forget it anymore.

Step 1: I am going to bring you back to the mortal plane, which I can not cross into. I will repair your wounds and outfit you with the appropriate gear for the occasion.

But remember: don’t stay on the mortal plane for too long, darling. Normally I would put you back in your old corpse and let you wander the physical realm as my ghoul, but alas, your body is being put to use by another at the moment, so we will make do with what we must.

Step 2: You will weasel your way into the dissentients. I’ll give you the perfect outfit for it. Marf has always been distracted by fancy capes and bright colors. Him and Lycana won’t think twice about accepting such a demonic aesthetic into their ranks.

Step 3: You cost the dissentients their matches at Leap of Faith.”

“And then?”

Thrax asked, already knowing the answer.

“And then I give you a pat on the back and send you on your merry way. I believe you were just about to visit the second layer of hell, yes?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Thrax was barely able to conceal the venom behind his words. He had no intention of going along with the Djinn’s plans. Thrax had seen enough of a hell for a lifetime.

“Alright then, I have prepared you to the best of my ability. Come back to me in one piece, child of hell, and Rolfe may just take pity on you and bring you into our fold…”

Thrax knew the woman was full of shit. Thrax knew that he was nothing but a tool to her, nothing but an object to be put to use. Thrax knew that the light at the end of this tunnel was nothing but a death sentence….he knew he would have to burst through the ceiling to escape the oncoming train.

“I am ready for the mission, master.”

The Djinn smiled before standing up. With the snap of her fingers a green portal appeared directly behind the charred corpse.

“Go on then, child of hell. Carry out our will!”

Thrax rose to his feet and made eye contact with the woman of Marf’s nightmares. Before he turned to leave, the Djinn spoke to him one last time.

“Tell me, soldier of fortune: what do you want most in this world? Perhaps, if you carry out your mission flawlessly, I could convince Rolfe to have it waiting for you when you’re done.”

Thrax scowled at the woman as he bore his canines at her.

“I WANT MY HUMANITY BACK!”

The Djinn’s eyes widened as she went to snap the portal closed. It was too late. Thrax ducked through the green portal seconds before the Djinn was able to close it!

“No...no…..no….I must no tell Rolfe!”

The scene fades to black as the camera zooms in on the Djinn's horrified face.

End Scene


I was going to let Jim Caedus do the honors of introducing me to the field, but it appears the pussycat folded his hand as soon as his bluff was called. He thought he knew what was swirling around in the darkness around him. He spoke to it, in hushed whispers, during the middle of his second vignette. He knew what was happening….he aimed his rifle, he set his sights on his target, and then he pulled the trigger. Imagine Jim’s surprise when his magic bullet hit nothing but the shadow on the wall.

Jim Caedus thought, for a brief moment, that he had broken free from my webs of deception. But in truth, he couldn’t have been more wrong…..

All this time I was sure it would be the mighty Doc D’Ville who would see through my cheap ploys and distracting tactics. Doc and I had fought before, a legendary bout atop a snow covered roof. Doc is a professional, Doc is a psychological genius. Doc is able to cut through falsehoods like a knife through butter.

Doc is trained in the art of dispelling deception, he’s accredited in the field.

But it appears that DOCK is nowhere near the mental giant that Doc once was.

It appears that Doc D’Ville has found himself in my unfortunate position: he has been cast out of his body and forced to watch the ensuing trainwreck. DOCK is too busy obsessing over his own failures in the ring to take a gander at the men standing across from him.

Doc D’Ville knows me well...he knows how I speak, he knows how I act, he knows how I THINK. Doc D’Ville has always had a counter for each and every one of my assaults….but DOCK? He just doesn’t have it in him. That little voice inside of his head, the one that did all the thinking, it seems to have vanished alongside the true D’Ville. What a shame. I was hoping to rebirth my legacy by destroying that of the good doctor’s. It’s a pity that I have to settle for the man that stands in his place.

DOCK couldn’t decipher the clues. Jim couldn’t decipher the clues. Chris and Corey never even tried…..

But perhaps SOME of you have caught on to my sly tricks by now. Perhaps, by now, some of you have started to decipher the writing on the wall.

But for those of you who are still trapped in the darkness, allow me to introduce myself…..

Thrax pulled back his latex mask and exposed his true face for the world to see.




]]> <![CDATA[Urias Pheelanruff: Consulting Psychiatrist (and Detective)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40905 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:58:50 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40905
Introduction & rules:


You are Urias Pheelanruff. You investigate stuff. The rules are the rules of Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective with a few twists I can't list here. Please look up the rules. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Directory:


Avalanche HQ


1 HQ – Living Room

2 HQ – Ned Kaye’s Room

3 HQ – Eobard Stone’s Room

4 HQ – Thias Watts’s Room

5 HQ – Dean Rose’s Room

6 HQ – Steven Cooper’s Room

7 HQ – Kitchen

8 HQ – Basement

9 HQ – The Nefarious Office

10 HQ – The Indoor Pool

11 HQ – Music Room

12 HQ – Laundry Room

13 HQ – Library

14 HQ – The Study

15 HQ – The Computer Room

16 HQ – Gym

17 HQ – The Home Theater


Morbid Angel’s Church


1 MA – Church Entrance & Nave

2 MA - ????? (Morbid’s Office)

3 MA - ????? (The Personal Library)

4 MA - ????? (The Catacombs)


Phone Numbers


555-7003 – Ethan

555-1313 – Bluevale Construction Company

555-6870 – The Tribune

555-9025 – The Last Remaining Radioshack

555-2416 – Urias Pheelanruff’s Cell Phone



Passwords:


Case Intro:


The Shadowy Snowfall


May 24th, 2021


Standing in the living room of the Avalanche Headquarters, we find ourselves gathered around the self-proclaimed Nefarious One: Ned Kaye. Over the past few months, he has completely changed, claiming to be another being entirely and refusing to associate with his own name any more than he has to. Unfortunately, after being brought home unconscious by Steven Cooper, Ned’s very home for his group, Avalanche, had been ransacked by an intruder who caused a black out to hide their presence. While you had begun some light investigating on the matter, Mr. Cooper had told you to knock it off while everyone tried to clean and get the building somewhat secure. After a long night of rest, everyone seems to be in better spirits than when their home was immediately invaded. You are standing aside the other Avalanche members, bar Dean Rose whose absence is not to be unexpected. They might not consider you one of their own, but it hasn’t affected your view of things much. Still, having heard that Ned is finally awake has reintroduced some optimism into a situation in much need of it.


“So, we were burgled?” The Nefarious One asks.


“Doesn’t seem to be the case, boss,” responds Steven.


Eobard Stone speaks up, “Yeah, NONE of my valuable games are missing and I’ve got real gems in there!”


Thias, towering over the other members with a bandage tied around his forehead after the attack he suffered from Dock, bellows out, “All of my guns are spoken for. Speaking of, I’m gonna hang with em’ ‘till y’all motherfuckers figured this out. I ain’t about to get my head cracked again.”


The big man walks off into the hallway, Ned shaking his head as he leaves.


“Do we know where we sustained the most damage?”


“Unfortunately, your room. A lot in there got destroyed or thrown around.”


“How am I not surprised? Is my favorite picture still up?”


“Oh, absolutely. Edgar’s still getting the taste punched out of his mouth.”


“Silver linings I suppose. How long was the blackout?”


“About fifteen minutes. I didn’t hear much commotion, but I also was screaming for P to let me out of the basement.”


“He locked you in the basement?” Ned asked with a genuine skepticism.


“No, no, no. He just didn’t know how to open the damn door in the dark. Oh, he also found another note along with that first one. Here they are together. The second one was a bit damp when it was found.”


(NOTES)


“Speaking of, what is the doctor doing exactly?”


Ned points at you, clearly a little confused at your plans to solve this mystery once and for all. But mostly at your Sherlock Holmes coat that fits a little tighter than you would have liked.


“For some damn reason, he wants to be a detective. I’ve just let him mark down notes and everything, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little much right now. Hell, it beats whatever else he could be doing right now.”


“That’s a very good point. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to be on my own for a while. If you need me, I’ll just be in here, but the last thing I need right now is to be bothered after all of this.”


We collectively prepare to leave the room before Ned adds one final detail to his statements.


“And one more thing: I’m going to figure out who pulled this stunt. Who’s been leaving us notes, who invaded our home, locked Steven in the basement, and destroyed my things. And if it is any one of us, consider them dead. Understood?”


Everyone nodded before leaving Ned be.


LEADS:


1 HQ – Living Room


“Back so soon?” The Nefarious One asks as you enter the room again. It’s not much different than how it was departed earlier, but Ned has attempted to make himself more comfortable, propping his feet up on the coffee table. You ask if he has any information related to last night.


“Urias, I was out. There wasn’t a whole lot I could witness or interact with and if I was up, you can be certain that we wouldn’t be discussing it right now. Besides, this isn’t a game for you to play, doc. If you want an actual investigation done, call the police. You’re not going to come across any big new pieces of information someone else couldn’t interpret a million times better. Unless you have something tangible that you’ve found, just let me watch some fucking TV.”


If you do not have any letters marked, you walk away dejected. If you do have one or more letters marked, you can show that piece of information to The Nefarious One.


B:


2 HQ – Ned Kaye’s Room


As you turn the knob and enter Ned’s room, there is an eeriness that overcomes you. Ned had showed off his rooms to some TV program, presenting a neat and tidy room filled with monuments to himself, several large posters and pictures on his wall, but in its current state all of that is a distant memory. Many pictures are smashed and destroyed and one of the two posters on his wall had been torn to shreds. And in a strangely ironic way, the picture of The Nefarious One punching R.L. Edgar with brass knuckles, the moment that began his reign as Hart Champion watches over the ravaged room, one of the few items left untouched. After searching for something else noteworthy for several minutes, you seem to find nothing more.


Do you have a marked B? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look behind the picture of RL Edgar getting punched by Ned or behind Ned’s bookshelf. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look behind the picture: Go to HQ 18 immediately.


Look behind the bookshelf: You find nothing behind here.


3 HQ – Eobard Stone’s Room


Entering the room of Eobard Stone is truly something else. In a mere moment, you feel as though you are taken back in time to the arcades of the 80s. There’s a Galaga, Pac-Man, and Root Beer Tapper machine Stone is playing his NES when you enter, appearing a little more calm about the situation than one might immediately expect. On top of his entertainment center is an unopened NES Action Set box.


“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Eobard says before shaking his head, “God, that sounds like something HE would say. Why’re you here, doc? Please tell me it’s not for more evaluations. PLEASE.”


You ask him about last night.


“Well, honestly, I wasn’t even here until later! I was picking up that Action Set from a collector last night. I have the Craigslist messages to back it up. Once I did eventually show up, I was just told everything by Mr. Cooper. Sure, it’s not the most exciting alibi in the world, but it happened.”


Before leaving, you ask if he experienced any electrical issues after the power failure.


“Nope, the surge protectors are working fine. None of the machines or consoles have been damaged, so I don’t think we had an overload, if that’s what you’re thinking.”


You thank the young man for his time before heading off.


Do you have a marked B? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look behind the Galaga machine or behind Stone’s entertainment center. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look behind Galaga: You find nothing behind here.


Look behind the entertainment center: You find nothing behind here.


4 HQ – Thias Watts’s Room


“Look, I am not about to let you jailtoss my fuckin’ room, little man. You better be in and out quick.”


You gulp, seeing the formidable Thias Watts stand above you. From other talks with you’ve had with him, he’s far more gentle than his demeanor might imply occasionally, but the recent attack from Dock has increased his lack of patience with everyone. In your few moments allowed in his room, you notice various pairs of muddy shoes and small chunks of wood attached to them. There isn’t any clear debris related to the intruder, but it’s fairly obvious that of a few of Thias’s guns have been used or at least removed and replaced as of recent. Before you’re able to ask any questions on the matter, Watts demands you leave and you’re not about to argue with him right now.


5 HQ – Dean Rose’s Room


Opening up the room of Dean Rose is truly surreal. Whereas the rest of Avalanche HQ feels very lived in and active, Dean’s is virtually untouched. There a few clothes in his closet, a bed that sits mostly unused, and a large poster of his girlfriend Sarah Michelle Gellar. Despite your attempts to find something more, it seems like there’s just not much to note here.


Do you have a marked B? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look under Rose’s bed or behind his SMG poster. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look under Rose’s bed: You find nothing under here.


Look behind the SMG poster: You find nothing behind here.


6 HQ – Steven Cooper’s Room


Heading into Steven Cooper’s room is a strange experience. While other members have tried to personalize their rooms in fairly extravagant ways, Cooper’s is far humbler. He seems rather moderate with his decorating decisions. The few pictures he has up are newspaper clippings of his achievements as a younger man and pictures of a younger Steven looking happy around his family. While there’s a bit of a mess from the intrusion, the main objects of interest have fallen off of a filing cabinet and spilled onto the floor. Although most are just papers and files of little interest, one catches your eye: a document with the seal of the FBI. In it is a description of a device that appears to limit electrical use for a controlled amount of time with a remote controller. After making sure to replace the documents and papers in a similar scattered fashion, you decide that Cooper’s room might not have much more to offer after that.


Do you have a marked B or E? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


If you have a B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look behind Steven’s filing cabinet or underneath his bed. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look behind the cabinet: You find nothing behind here.


Look under his bed: You find nothing under here.


If you have an E: You compare the device you found in the basement to the schematic in Cooper’s room. The resemblance is uncanny.


7 HQ – Kitchen


Stepping into the kitchen, you can tell the quality of the actual design is top notch. It’s certainly one of the nicest you’ve happened to step in which is what makes it so disheartening to see just how much it underwent. It’s clear that the intruder made it a point to empty out the fridge and slam many of its contents onto the floor. There are still bits of milk and cereal stuck to the sides of a few counters. However, one of the strangest sites there is a landline phone. It’s certainly a throwback, but because you can’t find your phone right now, it’ll make a fine substitute for the time being!


You can now use the phone! If you find a phone number, you may call it! Phone numbers count as normal leads. If you attempt to call a phone number that is not listed, you still have to mark it down as a lead you visited, however.


8 HQ – Basement


As you traverse the steps in into the dimly lit basement, you can tell why Cooper had claimed yesterday to have trouble going down in the almost nonexistent lighting. Thankfully, however, as you finally make it to the bottom, you find a light switch, which makes seeing everything far, far easier. Glancing upward, you notice a few wires hastily taped to the ceiling, appearing to lead out of the basement through a wall that doesn’t lead to anywhere in the building you recognize. Looking at the backup generator, you can see that the power lines running out of the back of it have been completely cut for an indeterminate amount of time. Looking at the main power setup, past all the wires and everything else, you can find a small, box-like device that seems to have been attached to something important. Unsure of what it is, you decide to bag it for later.


Mark the letter E.


9 HQ – The Nefarious Office


The first few steps you take into The Nefarious Office are breathtaking. It’s certainly a step up from many home offices that you’ve seen before, complete with a fancy desk. Unfortunately, it is not as visually appealing as usual, many of the neatly organized documents scatter across the desk and onto the office floor. There is a large, gaping hole in the wood, the phone that once sat upon the desk now crammed and broken inside of it. Obscuring some of the destruction is a few folders listing important FBI operations, including a small dossier listing Ned’s operations and specialties when he was an FBI agent back into early to mid 2020. Looking through, you read that Ned gained a specialty for electrical disruptions that he learned working for the XWF. You also see several high profile situations, the most detailed being an infiltration Ned made in a Brookridge facility. Unfortunately, though you’re able to read some of these documents, the rest of the information has been blacked out.


10 HQ – The Indoor Pool


Heading to the indoor pool hits you with a feeling of freshness as the scent of the pool hits your nostril. Looking around for clues, you’re unable to find much outside of a few blank pieces of paper that have taken some water. After a few more minutes looking for information, you decide to look elsewhere.


11 HQ – Music Room


Stepping into the music room, you notice a ton of different speakers and headphone sets scatter around the room along with bookshelves filled with vinyls, CDs, and Cooper’s collection of 8-tracks. Although you find many classics, you don’t see any damage that could’ve been caused by the intruder, nor anything else immediately of note. Searching the power outlets, you can tell there hasn’t been much in the way of strange activity here. After admiring the collection for a little longer, you ultimately exit the room.


12 HQ – Laundry Room


The laundry room is easily the least impressive room of the entire headquarters. The wall and appliances lack any real magnificence and are rather shockingly standard. Still, it’s a place to search. After checking the machines for any defects or changes and coming up empty handed, you look through a few of the pairs of jeans in the drier, only to find a few coins, a Radioshack coupon, and a strange note listing some faded numbers and letters you can barely make out.


..vis - 555-7003

..ale - 555-1313

..une - 555-6870

..ack - 555-9025

..fice - 555-2416


13 HQ – Library


As you enter the library, you can tell it’s used for more than just the simple storage of books. Having withstood minimal damage during the intrusion, you can tell it’s mostly in order from before the blackout. Although there are a multitude of different literary classics placed upon amazingly beautiful bookcases, you notice a few records relating directly to the headquarters itself. After a tedious search, you finally find a manila folder holding important information on the building itself, including the name of the construction company that built it: Bluevale. Unfortunately, you are completely unable to find the blueprints of the facility. Despite some extra searching to see if the blueprints were misplaced or dropped, you were unable to find them.


14 HQ – The Study


The study feels a tad redundant after the library and office, but it is a pleasant room nonetheless. Or rather, it was a pleasant room prior to being viciously ransacked during the blackout. In its current state, all of its furniture has been either overturned or smashed, left in rubble at your feet. Looking at the fireplace, they are bits of blue ashes mixed with the gray, but nothing discernible past that. After a thorough look through the fractured wood furniture, you come up with little more to examine.


15 HQ – The Computer Room


The first step into the computer room is a little blinding, the bright screensavers of the many different monitors shining in your face. After acclimating a bit, you walk into the room and look over some of the histories of the computers. After some very boring browsing, you do notice a few downloads of Pac-Man, Galaga, and Super Mario/Duck Hunt from some site called “RomGuru.” You also find a few recent searches of boat docks, all appearing to be closed except for the most recent search. After a bit more thought, you check to see if the security software installed in the building got any footage, but you are blocked with a passphrase screen.


16 HQ – Gym


You hear a loud clunk as you walk inside of the gym, witnessing Steven Cooper finish up a set of squats. He rolls his eyes at your presence, clearly not wanting to think anymore about the whole situation, let alone you in a Sherlock Holmes costume. It’s a bit striking just how little the gym was effected by the intruder, but you could almost not tell with how Cooper sometimes leaves it. It’s relatively more presentable today as you walk up to the veteran to ask him a few questions.


“Before you say a damn thing: no, I didn’t lock myself in the basement.”


You ask him about his whereabouts on that night. He is hesitant to answer, but not due to nervousness.


“….the basement.”


You ask him if he noticed anything else besides what he had already described to you.


“Sorry, P, I’ve told you everything I know. You’re just not gonna get much more from me.”


Do you have a marked E? If not, you have learned all you will here. If so, read on:


You show Cooper the device that you found in the basement and ask him if he knows what it is. Inspecting it closely, he grabs a pair of reading glasses that are a little small for his face and gives it a quick lookover.


“Yeah, I know that doo-hickey. That’s the same kind of device Ned had me use when we were hitting and running people before everyone knew about Avalanche. I don’t know how someone else got their slimy hands on that stuff, but I was only able to use it a couple of times and it always took me a while to get it working. Whoever planted this must have a similar retailer or something. At least we know what caused the blackout, though.”


17 HQ – The Home Theater


Walking into the home theater, you can tell it hasn’t been used since the seminar you and Ned held for Thaddeus Duke. After some thorough inspection, you’re only able to find the pointer clicker that Ned used for the slideshow.


1 MA – Church Entrance & Nave


Knocking on the humongous door of Morbid Angel’s megachurch is a strange experience. You’ve never been a particularly small person, but this church’s door is enough to make you feel pretty tiny. After knocking, you see the intimidating Morbid Angel jolt out of the door, looking directly at you with glaring eyes.


“Now what in the hell are YOU doing here, Glutton of Kaye!”


You explain that you’re only here due to a recent home invasion and you’ve just come to investigate further.


“I suppose, being a man of God and not AWFUL, HORRIBLE, EVIL SATAN, I can allow you to enter for a short time. Feel free to look around and enjoy the lord’s love, but keep the hands the good lord gave you to yourself! People get too touchy with the statue’s cuz they’re nekid sometimes!”


You ask him to clarify that sometimes, but he ignores you. Looking at the nave of the church, you can tell that this is not only state of the art, but also incredibly well constructed. As Morbid accompanies you, you can tell he’s been watching HBO using the big TV in the church.


“It is the will of the good lord that days of rest be relaxing and nothing is more relaxing than watching The Wire on a HONKIN’ BIG TV!” He proudly shows it, distracting a little bit from the beautiful architecture within.


“Now, if there’s anywhere else you wanna check, just let me know, young-er… mid-age lamb.”


The following leads are now available to you for investigation:


2 MA - Morbid’s Office

3 MA - The Personal Library

4 MA - The Catacombs


2 MA - ????? (Morbid’s Office)


Heading up to Morbid’s Office, you can tell he keeps it in a condition to be expected of Morbid Angel. Which is to say it isn’t neat. Among the various scatter bits of paper and doodles on his desk is a small notebook opened to a page that discusses his finances. Looking through, it doesn’t seem like Morbid’s church has been paying for sacramental wine, cable, or graham crackers for the past few months. Before you can read too much more, his booming voice rings out from behind you.


“If there is ONE thing that GAWD could ask of his children, it is to not snoop at a good man’s purchases! You don’t need to be finding out a servant of God’s favorite pornos!”


Despite some attempts to stall, you’re not able to read any more.


3 MA - ????? (The Personal Library)


Morbid’s personal library is rather quaint, which is a shock, given the man. Looking through the various shelves, you can identify bibles and holy books from all around the world. Looking closer you also see a few TV Guides. After a bit of his monologue about knowledge, you notice there isn’t much more notable information to be gathered here.


4 MA - ????? (The Catacombs)


Down in the catacombs, you actually get seperated from Morbid for a moment. It’s a deeply unsettling environment, but you do end up seeing a group of wires taped to the rocky ceiling before bumping back into Morbid.


“I do not know how I lost you, son! You go to more Church’s than I do and they ARE the kinds with drive-thrus, not with pews! We’d better go back up there before I somehow lose your worldly ass again FOR CHRIST SAKE! GAWD HELP MEH!”


911 – The Police


You dial 911. After being connected with a first responder, you ask them a few questions before hearing, “Dr. Pheelanruff, we are not interested in whatever shortage of handpuppets you’ve deemed to be an emergency.”


The phone clicks afterwards.


555-7003 – Ethan


The phone rings for a moment, but there’s no answer.


555-1313 – Bluevale Construction Company


“Howdy, Bluevale Construction, what do you need done for ya today?”


You describe the recent events Avalanche HQ and ask if they could send some blueprints to see if there were any hidden passages or rooms an intruder might have accessed.


“We can send a copy of the blueprints over, but that’s gonna take about a week. Only hidden room or passage I can see is a secret room in the largest bedroom. That’s all we got for ya, buddy.”


Mark the letter B.


555-6870 – The Tribune


“Hello, Mr. Anderson?”


You explain that that is not your name and attempt to discuss with the person on the other end further.


“Sorry, sir, but we’re having a tough week of reporting and I don’t have the time to talk to you. Please call back some other time.”


555-9025 – The Last Remaining Radioshack


“Hello, Radioshack, how can I be of assistance?”


You ask if there have been any orders to Avalanche HQ’s address.


“There have been a few in the past week, but I can’t really give you anything more than that. Sorry for the inconvenience.”


555-2416 – Urias Pheelanruff’s Cell Phone


You dial the number and as you wait for a response, you feel a small buzzing in your pocket. Reaching in, you find your phone! So that’s where it was!”


18 HQ – Ned’s Secret Room


Walking into the secret room past The Nefarious One’s favorite picture greets you with a most confounding sight. The interior appears to be a perfect recreation of Ned’s office from when he still ran The Notorious Gym, a single picture of Ned Kaye on it. You approach the picture, picking it up before twisting around when a voice calls out to you.”


“I suppose you’re not as dumb as I thought, Urias.” Behind you stands The Nefarious One.


You ask him what the meaning of all of this is.


“I mean, you found this place, doc. I think you have a better picture of what’s going on than you want to admit.”


Immediately answer the questions at the end of the case. DO NOT investigate further. As always, you may re-read leads you have already visited during answering questions.


Questions:


Series 1


1. Who wrote the notes and trashed Avalanche HQ?


2. How were the lights shut off?


3. Why did the intruder have knowledge of how to shut the lights off?


4. What prior experience did the intruder have for covert activities inside of secure buildings?


5. What name did the intruder secretly go by in the newspaper?


Series 2


6. What has Morbid Angel been doing to Avalanche HQ?


7. What activity had Eobard been up to? Is it illegal?


8. Where is Dean Rose?


9. Has Thias been up to anything irregular?


10. What has Cooper been keeping from the other members of Avalanche?


Answers:


1. Ned Kaye AKA “The Notorious One.” (25 points)


2. A device was used that would shut them off remotely for a short amount of time. (25 points)


3. He both lived in the facility and had experience shutting the lights off for surprise appearances at wrestling shows. (15 points)


4. He worked an FBI mission in Brookridge that required him to. (15 points)


5. Caleb Anderson. (20 points)


--------


6. He’s been stealing cable, running it through the catacombs of his megachurch. (20 points)


7. He’s been downloading ROMs from websites online. It’s technically not illegal because he owns all the games he’s downloaded. (15 points)


8. Sarah Michelle Gellar’s house. (5 points)


9. He has been tearing up boat docks and fucking shooting them. (10 points)


10. His diagnosis of cancer. (0 points)


Case Solution:


(If you have not read the 18 HQ lead yet, make sure to read it now and do not count it as a lead towards scoring.)


The Nefarious One sits down across from Urias, propping his feet up on the desk that resembles Ned’s old one.


“So, the first thing that stuck out to me,” Urias stated, “was the events in the basement. Sure, Cooper felt pretty innocent to me, but I wasn’t about to just take his word for it! After that, I decided to look through his room, see how suspicious he actually was.”


“And?”


“After seeing the FBI stuff, I thought to go to your office because I honestly forgot you were in the FBI, but I did know you’d be more likely to keep that stuff on you than in the library! So, I saw some of the old stuff that Ned did. Infiltration, lights blacking out, real spy movie stuff! Whoever did it would need a similar skill set, but it still wasn’t proof enough of a suspect, so I thought back to how today’s note was a little damp. I doubted it would come from something like the pool, so I checked the laundry room and found some worn out phone numbers with just a few letters visible. I didn’t feel comfortable calling any, so I checked the library to see if you had anything on the building in there. I was hoping to find some blueprints, but I only got the name of the company: Bluevale. Headin’ down to the kitchen, where the landline is, I went ahead and called them up and that’s when they told me there was a secret room in the biggest bedroom. I love ya, Ned, but you’re not the kinda guy right now to pass up a master bedroom. After that, it was just knowing where I would hide a secret room: behind my favorite thing!”


“Sound enough logic. But who did it then?”


Urias stammered a bit, a little less certain of himself.


“I guess whoever had the knowledge, equipment, experience, knowledge of the building…”


Urias strained a bit before finally snapping his fingers.


“YOU! It was you, Ned!”


The Nefarious One shook his head, slightly disappointed in his psychiatrist. “Almost, Urias. But I am, importantly, not Ned. He and I are not the same.”


“So… Ned did it. But you said Ned was gone.”


“I had thought he was, but it’s just like what I told to his little friend that I’m going to break on Sunday: real do-gooder types are a pain.”


“So… what now?”


“Now, Urias?” The Nefarious One asked back, “Now, I make Ned’s friend pay for every dime of mine he smashed.”


The Nefarious One solved this case in 8 leads. (You do not have to count 18 HQ for scoring purposes.)

---------


Trash Talk:


“There’s something classic about this… I just can’t put my finger on it. Something about breaking you down in this fashion just brings me back to the days of Steve Jason or some other old man Ned idolized out of some obligation for wrestling fan cred, the social equivalence of a beer pong trophy. But of course anything I touch will be a reminder of a golden era. I’m a throwback kind of star. Always have been. Even weak-kneed Ned was said to be the next James Raven or Centurion or Robert Main. But you boy? The only time someone looks at you and see James Raven is when they see your tweets where you photoshop yourself into his images! You would put your face next to Stalin, boy, if it meant getting some adoration or at least some association. Then again that’s just what you do. Tell everyone around you how they’re getting the rub from you, while sniffing everyone’s shoes for a whiff importance. You project so damn much, I should’ve just ditched my current projector and had you stand at the opposite side of the room with your mouth open! You don’t do or say anything important ever and your shoot yourself in the foot so often that it’s fucking comical. You are the biggest joke of a former Universal Champion since Peter fucking Gilmour. You share the honor of being tossed out of the War Games 2019 match along with Rayne, an incestuous psychopath. You are not impressive. I don’t need to stress that any more than I already have. No, I don’t take you seriously one bit. The worst thing you’ll do to me is hit me with some weapons because you were afraid, and correct, that your fists would never get the job done. I was fully planning to show up there and treat you like the clown you are and let you off with a bloody pie to your face.”


“But then your little friend Ned got concerned and tried to fuck with my body. With my mind. See, I was going to be fairly amicable with my brutality prior, but that Ned Kaye you loved to pretend to love so much? Well, he really didn’t want you to get hurt. He wanted to distract me. To protect you.”


“He made a mistake you’re paying for, boy.”


“I’m no longer here to debase you like I did Morbid or embarrass you like I did Edgar. I will do both, too, but I’m here to fucking break you. And you know the funniest thing about it? Like with all the best things that involve you, you had the slimmest effect on it. Somebody else’s fuckup made me genuinely want to break you in half. You can’t even make me want to bury you right. Lousy fuckin’ challenger. Let me be perfectly clear here: There is no fucking future for you kid. There isn’t an afterlife. Mommy and daddy aren’t coming to see you at the dance recital and swan lake is about to get bloody. Living legend? More like dead meat. You want to find out what your mom went through, kid? Get ready for an encore performance. A remake or reimagining, if you will, of the day a useless sack of protein and water splattered across the goddamn ground. I don’t just want to see you bleed, boy. I want to watch your muscles tear apart underneath. I want to hear you say that pile of self-congratulated garbage you can’t stop spouting through a swollen mouth. I am going to hurt you in ways you thought only your papa’s legacy could. And when I’m done and I’ve tossed you away like the corpse of a bird fed to a wolf, that’s when I’ll grace your name with my voice again. The only time your name ever deserves to be uttered by me ever again…”


“Is at your funeral. Lucky for you, I booked it ahead of time.”]]>
Introduction & rules:


You are Urias Pheelanruff. You investigate stuff. The rules are the rules of Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective with a few twists I can't list here. Please look up the rules. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Directory:


Avalanche HQ


1 HQ – Living Room

2 HQ – Ned Kaye’s Room

3 HQ – Eobard Stone’s Room

4 HQ – Thias Watts’s Room

5 HQ – Dean Rose’s Room

6 HQ – Steven Cooper’s Room

7 HQ – Kitchen

8 HQ – Basement

9 HQ – The Nefarious Office

10 HQ – The Indoor Pool

11 HQ – Music Room

12 HQ – Laundry Room

13 HQ – Library

14 HQ – The Study

15 HQ – The Computer Room

16 HQ – Gym

17 HQ – The Home Theater


Morbid Angel’s Church


1 MA – Church Entrance & Nave

2 MA - ????? (Morbid’s Office)

3 MA - ????? (The Personal Library)

4 MA - ????? (The Catacombs)


Phone Numbers


555-7003 – Ethan

555-1313 – Bluevale Construction Company

555-6870 – The Tribune

555-9025 – The Last Remaining Radioshack

555-2416 – Urias Pheelanruff’s Cell Phone



Passwords:


Case Intro:


The Shadowy Snowfall


May 24th, 2021


Standing in the living room of the Avalanche Headquarters, we find ourselves gathered around the self-proclaimed Nefarious One: Ned Kaye. Over the past few months, he has completely changed, claiming to be another being entirely and refusing to associate with his own name any more than he has to. Unfortunately, after being brought home unconscious by Steven Cooper, Ned’s very home for his group, Avalanche, had been ransacked by an intruder who caused a black out to hide their presence. While you had begun some light investigating on the matter, Mr. Cooper had told you to knock it off while everyone tried to clean and get the building somewhat secure. After a long night of rest, everyone seems to be in better spirits than when their home was immediately invaded. You are standing aside the other Avalanche members, bar Dean Rose whose absence is not to be unexpected. They might not consider you one of their own, but it hasn’t affected your view of things much. Still, having heard that Ned is finally awake has reintroduced some optimism into a situation in much need of it.


“So, we were burgled?” The Nefarious One asks.


“Doesn’t seem to be the case, boss,” responds Steven.


Eobard Stone speaks up, “Yeah, NONE of my valuable games are missing and I’ve got real gems in there!”


Thias, towering over the other members with a bandage tied around his forehead after the attack he suffered from Dock, bellows out, “All of my guns are spoken for. Speaking of, I’m gonna hang with em’ ‘till y’all motherfuckers figured this out. I ain’t about to get my head cracked again.”


The big man walks off into the hallway, Ned shaking his head as he leaves.


“Do we know where we sustained the most damage?”


“Unfortunately, your room. A lot in there got destroyed or thrown around.”


“How am I not surprised? Is my favorite picture still up?”


“Oh, absolutely. Edgar’s still getting the taste punched out of his mouth.”


“Silver linings I suppose. How long was the blackout?”


“About fifteen minutes. I didn’t hear much commotion, but I also was screaming for P to let me out of the basement.”


“He locked you in the basement?” Ned asked with a genuine skepticism.


“No, no, no. He just didn’t know how to open the damn door in the dark. Oh, he also found another note along with that first one. Here they are together. The second one was a bit damp when it was found.”


(NOTES)


“Speaking of, what is the doctor doing exactly?”


Ned points at you, clearly a little confused at your plans to solve this mystery once and for all. But mostly at your Sherlock Holmes coat that fits a little tighter than you would have liked.


“For some damn reason, he wants to be a detective. I’ve just let him mark down notes and everything, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little much right now. Hell, it beats whatever else he could be doing right now.”


“That’s a very good point. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to be on my own for a while. If you need me, I’ll just be in here, but the last thing I need right now is to be bothered after all of this.”


We collectively prepare to leave the room before Ned adds one final detail to his statements.


“And one more thing: I’m going to figure out who pulled this stunt. Who’s been leaving us notes, who invaded our home, locked Steven in the basement, and destroyed my things. And if it is any one of us, consider them dead. Understood?”


Everyone nodded before leaving Ned be.


LEADS:


1 HQ – Living Room


“Back so soon?” The Nefarious One asks as you enter the room again. It’s not much different than how it was departed earlier, but Ned has attempted to make himself more comfortable, propping his feet up on the coffee table. You ask if he has any information related to last night.


“Urias, I was out. There wasn’t a whole lot I could witness or interact with and if I was up, you can be certain that we wouldn’t be discussing it right now. Besides, this isn’t a game for you to play, doc. If you want an actual investigation done, call the police. You’re not going to come across any big new pieces of information someone else couldn’t interpret a million times better. Unless you have something tangible that you’ve found, just let me watch some fucking TV.”


If you do not have any letters marked, you walk away dejected. If you do have one or more letters marked, you can show that piece of information to The Nefarious One.


B:


2 HQ – Ned Kaye’s Room


As you turn the knob and enter Ned’s room, there is an eeriness that overcomes you. Ned had showed off his rooms to some TV program, presenting a neat and tidy room filled with monuments to himself, several large posters and pictures on his wall, but in its current state all of that is a distant memory. Many pictures are smashed and destroyed and one of the two posters on his wall had been torn to shreds. And in a strangely ironic way, the picture of The Nefarious One punching R.L. Edgar with brass knuckles, the moment that began his reign as Hart Champion watches over the ravaged room, one of the few items left untouched. After searching for something else noteworthy for several minutes, you seem to find nothing more.


Do you have a marked B? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look behind the picture of RL Edgar getting punched by Ned or behind Ned’s bookshelf. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look behind the picture: Go to HQ 18 immediately.


Look behind the bookshelf: You find nothing behind here.


3 HQ – Eobard Stone’s Room


Entering the room of Eobard Stone is truly something else. In a mere moment, you feel as though you are taken back in time to the arcades of the 80s. There’s a Galaga, Pac-Man, and Root Beer Tapper machine Stone is playing his NES when you enter, appearing a little more calm about the situation than one might immediately expect. On top of his entertainment center is an unopened NES Action Set box.


“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Eobard says before shaking his head, “God, that sounds like something HE would say. Why’re you here, doc? Please tell me it’s not for more evaluations. PLEASE.”


You ask him about last night.


“Well, honestly, I wasn’t even here until later! I was picking up that Action Set from a collector last night. I have the Craigslist messages to back it up. Once I did eventually show up, I was just told everything by Mr. Cooper. Sure, it’s not the most exciting alibi in the world, but it happened.”


Before leaving, you ask if he experienced any electrical issues after the power failure.


“Nope, the surge protectors are working fine. None of the machines or consoles have been damaged, so I don’t think we had an overload, if that’s what you’re thinking.”


You thank the young man for his time before heading off.


Do you have a marked B? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look behind the Galaga machine or behind Stone’s entertainment center. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look behind Galaga: You find nothing behind here.


Look behind the entertainment center: You find nothing behind here.


4 HQ – Thias Watts’s Room


“Look, I am not about to let you jailtoss my fuckin’ room, little man. You better be in and out quick.”


You gulp, seeing the formidable Thias Watts stand above you. From other talks with you’ve had with him, he’s far more gentle than his demeanor might imply occasionally, but the recent attack from Dock has increased his lack of patience with everyone. In your few moments allowed in his room, you notice various pairs of muddy shoes and small chunks of wood attached to them. There isn’t any clear debris related to the intruder, but it’s fairly obvious that of a few of Thias’s guns have been used or at least removed and replaced as of recent. Before you’re able to ask any questions on the matter, Watts demands you leave and you’re not about to argue with him right now.


5 HQ – Dean Rose’s Room


Opening up the room of Dean Rose is truly surreal. Whereas the rest of Avalanche HQ feels very lived in and active, Dean’s is virtually untouched. There a few clothes in his closet, a bed that sits mostly unused, and a large poster of his girlfriend Sarah Michelle Gellar. Despite your attempts to find something more, it seems like there’s just not much to note here.


Do you have a marked B? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look under Rose’s bed or behind his SMG poster. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look under Rose’s bed: You find nothing under here.


Look behind the SMG poster: You find nothing behind here.


6 HQ – Steven Cooper’s Room


Heading into Steven Cooper’s room is a strange experience. While other members have tried to personalize their rooms in fairly extravagant ways, Cooper’s is far humbler. He seems rather moderate with his decorating decisions. The few pictures he has up are newspaper clippings of his achievements as a younger man and pictures of a younger Steven looking happy around his family. While there’s a bit of a mess from the intrusion, the main objects of interest have fallen off of a filing cabinet and spilled onto the floor. Although most are just papers and files of little interest, one catches your eye: a document with the seal of the FBI. In it is a description of a device that appears to limit electrical use for a controlled amount of time with a remote controller. After making sure to replace the documents and papers in a similar scattered fashion, you decide that Cooper’s room might not have much more to offer after that.


Do you have a marked B or E? If not, you leave the room, finding nothing else. If so read the following:


If you have a B: You may search for a hidden room based on the blueprints that you received. You may look behind Steven’s filing cabinet or underneath his bed. Each counts as one lead for scoring purposes.


Look behind the cabinet: You find nothing behind here.


Look under his bed: You find nothing under here.


If you have an E: You compare the device you found in the basement to the schematic in Cooper’s room. The resemblance is uncanny.


7 HQ – Kitchen


Stepping into the kitchen, you can tell the quality of the actual design is top notch. It’s certainly one of the nicest you’ve happened to step in which is what makes it so disheartening to see just how much it underwent. It’s clear that the intruder made it a point to empty out the fridge and slam many of its contents onto the floor. There are still bits of milk and cereal stuck to the sides of a few counters. However, one of the strangest sites there is a landline phone. It’s certainly a throwback, but because you can’t find your phone right now, it’ll make a fine substitute for the time being!


You can now use the phone! If you find a phone number, you may call it! Phone numbers count as normal leads. If you attempt to call a phone number that is not listed, you still have to mark it down as a lead you visited, however.


8 HQ – Basement


As you traverse the steps in into the dimly lit basement, you can tell why Cooper had claimed yesterday to have trouble going down in the almost nonexistent lighting. Thankfully, however, as you finally make it to the bottom, you find a light switch, which makes seeing everything far, far easier. Glancing upward, you notice a few wires hastily taped to the ceiling, appearing to lead out of the basement through a wall that doesn’t lead to anywhere in the building you recognize. Looking at the backup generator, you can see that the power lines running out of the back of it have been completely cut for an indeterminate amount of time. Looking at the main power setup, past all the wires and everything else, you can find a small, box-like device that seems to have been attached to something important. Unsure of what it is, you decide to bag it for later.


Mark the letter E.


9 HQ – The Nefarious Office


The first few steps you take into The Nefarious Office are breathtaking. It’s certainly a step up from many home offices that you’ve seen before, complete with a fancy desk. Unfortunately, it is not as visually appealing as usual, many of the neatly organized documents scatter across the desk and onto the office floor. There is a large, gaping hole in the wood, the phone that once sat upon the desk now crammed and broken inside of it. Obscuring some of the destruction is a few folders listing important FBI operations, including a small dossier listing Ned’s operations and specialties when he was an FBI agent back into early to mid 2020. Looking through, you read that Ned gained a specialty for electrical disruptions that he learned working for the XWF. You also see several high profile situations, the most detailed being an infiltration Ned made in a Brookridge facility. Unfortunately, though you’re able to read some of these documents, the rest of the information has been blacked out.


10 HQ – The Indoor Pool


Heading to the indoor pool hits you with a feeling of freshness as the scent of the pool hits your nostril. Looking around for clues, you’re unable to find much outside of a few blank pieces of paper that have taken some water. After a few more minutes looking for information, you decide to look elsewhere.


11 HQ – Music Room


Stepping into the music room, you notice a ton of different speakers and headphone sets scatter around the room along with bookshelves filled with vinyls, CDs, and Cooper’s collection of 8-tracks. Although you find many classics, you don’t see any damage that could’ve been caused by the intruder, nor anything else immediately of note. Searching the power outlets, you can tell there hasn’t been much in the way of strange activity here. After admiring the collection for a little longer, you ultimately exit the room.


12 HQ – Laundry Room


The laundry room is easily the least impressive room of the entire headquarters. The wall and appliances lack any real magnificence and are rather shockingly standard. Still, it’s a place to search. After checking the machines for any defects or changes and coming up empty handed, you look through a few of the pairs of jeans in the drier, only to find a few coins, a Radioshack coupon, and a strange note listing some faded numbers and letters you can barely make out.


..vis - 555-7003

..ale - 555-1313

..une - 555-6870

..ack - 555-9025

..fice - 555-2416


13 HQ – Library


As you enter the library, you can tell it’s used for more than just the simple storage of books. Having withstood minimal damage during the intrusion, you can tell it’s mostly in order from before the blackout. Although there are a multitude of different literary classics placed upon amazingly beautiful bookcases, you notice a few records relating directly to the headquarters itself. After a tedious search, you finally find a manila folder holding important information on the building itself, including the name of the construction company that built it: Bluevale. Unfortunately, you are completely unable to find the blueprints of the facility. Despite some extra searching to see if the blueprints were misplaced or dropped, you were unable to find them.


14 HQ – The Study


The study feels a tad redundant after the library and office, but it is a pleasant room nonetheless. Or rather, it was a pleasant room prior to being viciously ransacked during the blackout. In its current state, all of its furniture has been either overturned or smashed, left in rubble at your feet. Looking at the fireplace, they are bits of blue ashes mixed with the gray, but nothing discernible past that. After a thorough look through the fractured wood furniture, you come up with little more to examine.


15 HQ – The Computer Room


The first step into the computer room is a little blinding, the bright screensavers of the many different monitors shining in your face. After acclimating a bit, you walk into the room and look over some of the histories of the computers. After some very boring browsing, you do notice a few downloads of Pac-Man, Galaga, and Super Mario/Duck Hunt from some site called “RomGuru.” You also find a few recent searches of boat docks, all appearing to be closed except for the most recent search. After a bit more thought, you check to see if the security software installed in the building got any footage, but you are blocked with a passphrase screen.


16 HQ – Gym


You hear a loud clunk as you walk inside of the gym, witnessing Steven Cooper finish up a set of squats. He rolls his eyes at your presence, clearly not wanting to think anymore about the whole situation, let alone you in a Sherlock Holmes costume. It’s a bit striking just how little the gym was effected by the intruder, but you could almost not tell with how Cooper sometimes leaves it. It’s relatively more presentable today as you walk up to the veteran to ask him a few questions.


“Before you say a damn thing: no, I didn’t lock myself in the basement.”


You ask him about his whereabouts on that night. He is hesitant to answer, but not due to nervousness.


“….the basement.”


You ask him if he noticed anything else besides what he had already described to you.


“Sorry, P, I’ve told you everything I know. You’re just not gonna get much more from me.”


Do you have a marked E? If not, you have learned all you will here. If so, read on:


You show Cooper the device that you found in the basement and ask him if he knows what it is. Inspecting it closely, he grabs a pair of reading glasses that are a little small for his face and gives it a quick lookover.


“Yeah, I know that doo-hickey. That’s the same kind of device Ned had me use when we were hitting and running people before everyone knew about Avalanche. I don’t know how someone else got their slimy hands on that stuff, but I was only able to use it a couple of times and it always took me a while to get it working. Whoever planted this must have a similar retailer or something. At least we know what caused the blackout, though.”


17 HQ – The Home Theater


Walking into the home theater, you can tell it hasn’t been used since the seminar you and Ned held for Thaddeus Duke. After some thorough inspection, you’re only able to find the pointer clicker that Ned used for the slideshow.


1 MA – Church Entrance & Nave


Knocking on the humongous door of Morbid Angel’s megachurch is a strange experience. You’ve never been a particularly small person, but this church’s door is enough to make you feel pretty tiny. After knocking, you see the intimidating Morbid Angel jolt out of the door, looking directly at you with glaring eyes.


“Now what in the hell are YOU doing here, Glutton of Kaye!”


You explain that you’re only here due to a recent home invasion and you’ve just come to investigate further.


“I suppose, being a man of God and not AWFUL, HORRIBLE, EVIL SATAN, I can allow you to enter for a short time. Feel free to look around and enjoy the lord’s love, but keep the hands the good lord gave you to yourself! People get too touchy with the statue’s cuz they’re nekid sometimes!”


You ask him to clarify that sometimes, but he ignores you. Looking at the nave of the church, you can tell that this is not only state of the art, but also incredibly well constructed. As Morbid accompanies you, you can tell he’s been watching HBO using the big TV in the church.


“It is the will of the good lord that days of rest be relaxing and nothing is more relaxing than watching The Wire on a HONKIN’ BIG TV!” He proudly shows it, distracting a little bit from the beautiful architecture within.


“Now, if there’s anywhere else you wanna check, just let me know, young-er… mid-age lamb.”


The following leads are now available to you for investigation:


2 MA - Morbid’s Office

3 MA - The Personal Library

4 MA - The Catacombs


2 MA - ????? (Morbid’s Office)


Heading up to Morbid’s Office, you can tell he keeps it in a condition to be expected of Morbid Angel. Which is to say it isn’t neat. Among the various scatter bits of paper and doodles on his desk is a small notebook opened to a page that discusses his finances. Looking through, it doesn’t seem like Morbid’s church has been paying for sacramental wine, cable, or graham crackers for the past few months. Before you can read too much more, his booming voice rings out from behind you.


“If there is ONE thing that GAWD could ask of his children, it is to not snoop at a good man’s purchases! You don’t need to be finding out a servant of God’s favorite pornos!”


Despite some attempts to stall, you’re not able to read any more.


3 MA - ????? (The Personal Library)


Morbid’s personal library is rather quaint, which is a shock, given the man. Looking through the various shelves, you can identify bibles and holy books from all around the world. Looking closer you also see a few TV Guides. After a bit of his monologue about knowledge, you notice there isn’t much more notable information to be gathered here.


4 MA - ????? (The Catacombs)


Down in the catacombs, you actually get seperated from Morbid for a moment. It’s a deeply unsettling environment, but you do end up seeing a group of wires taped to the rocky ceiling before bumping back into Morbid.


“I do not know how I lost you, son! You go to more Church’s than I do and they ARE the kinds with drive-thrus, not with pews! We’d better go back up there before I somehow lose your worldly ass again FOR CHRIST SAKE! GAWD HELP MEH!”


911 – The Police


You dial 911. After being connected with a first responder, you ask them a few questions before hearing, “Dr. Pheelanruff, we are not interested in whatever shortage of handpuppets you’ve deemed to be an emergency.”


The phone clicks afterwards.


555-7003 – Ethan


The phone rings for a moment, but there’s no answer.


555-1313 – Bluevale Construction Company


“Howdy, Bluevale Construction, what do you need done for ya today?”


You describe the recent events Avalanche HQ and ask if they could send some blueprints to see if there were any hidden passages or rooms an intruder might have accessed.


“We can send a copy of the blueprints over, but that’s gonna take about a week. Only hidden room or passage I can see is a secret room in the largest bedroom. That’s all we got for ya, buddy.”


Mark the letter B.


555-6870 – The Tribune


“Hello, Mr. Anderson?”


You explain that that is not your name and attempt to discuss with the person on the other end further.


“Sorry, sir, but we’re having a tough week of reporting and I don’t have the time to talk to you. Please call back some other time.”


555-9025 – The Last Remaining Radioshack


“Hello, Radioshack, how can I be of assistance?”


You ask if there have been any orders to Avalanche HQ’s address.


“There have been a few in the past week, but I can’t really give you anything more than that. Sorry for the inconvenience.”


555-2416 – Urias Pheelanruff’s Cell Phone


You dial the number and as you wait for a response, you feel a small buzzing in your pocket. Reaching in, you find your phone! So that’s where it was!”


18 HQ – Ned’s Secret Room


Walking into the secret room past The Nefarious One’s favorite picture greets you with a most confounding sight. The interior appears to be a perfect recreation of Ned’s office from when he still ran The Notorious Gym, a single picture of Ned Kaye on it. You approach the picture, picking it up before twisting around when a voice calls out to you.”


“I suppose you’re not as dumb as I thought, Urias.” Behind you stands The Nefarious One.


You ask him what the meaning of all of this is.


“I mean, you found this place, doc. I think you have a better picture of what’s going on than you want to admit.”


Immediately answer the questions at the end of the case. DO NOT investigate further. As always, you may re-read leads you have already visited during answering questions.


Questions:


Series 1


1. Who wrote the notes and trashed Avalanche HQ?


2. How were the lights shut off?


3. Why did the intruder have knowledge of how to shut the lights off?


4. What prior experience did the intruder have for covert activities inside of secure buildings?


5. What name did the intruder secretly go by in the newspaper?


Series 2


6. What has Morbid Angel been doing to Avalanche HQ?


7. What activity had Eobard been up to? Is it illegal?


8. Where is Dean Rose?


9. Has Thias been up to anything irregular?


10. What has Cooper been keeping from the other members of Avalanche?


Answers:


1. Ned Kaye AKA “The Notorious One.” (25 points)


2. A device was used that would shut them off remotely for a short amount of time. (25 points)


3. He both lived in the facility and had experience shutting the lights off for surprise appearances at wrestling shows. (15 points)


4. He worked an FBI mission in Brookridge that required him to. (15 points)


5. Caleb Anderson. (20 points)


--------


6. He’s been stealing cable, running it through the catacombs of his megachurch. (20 points)


7. He’s been downloading ROMs from websites online. It’s technically not illegal because he owns all the games he’s downloaded. (15 points)


8. Sarah Michelle Gellar’s house. (5 points)


9. He has been tearing up boat docks and fucking shooting them. (10 points)


10. His diagnosis of cancer. (0 points)


Case Solution:


(If you have not read the 18 HQ lead yet, make sure to read it now and do not count it as a lead towards scoring.)


The Nefarious One sits down across from Urias, propping his feet up on the desk that resembles Ned’s old one.


“So, the first thing that stuck out to me,” Urias stated, “was the events in the basement. Sure, Cooper felt pretty innocent to me, but I wasn’t about to just take his word for it! After that, I decided to look through his room, see how suspicious he actually was.”


“And?”


“After seeing the FBI stuff, I thought to go to your office because I honestly forgot you were in the FBI, but I did know you’d be more likely to keep that stuff on you than in the library! So, I saw some of the old stuff that Ned did. Infiltration, lights blacking out, real spy movie stuff! Whoever did it would need a similar skill set, but it still wasn’t proof enough of a suspect, so I thought back to how today’s note was a little damp. I doubted it would come from something like the pool, so I checked the laundry room and found some worn out phone numbers with just a few letters visible. I didn’t feel comfortable calling any, so I checked the library to see if you had anything on the building in there. I was hoping to find some blueprints, but I only got the name of the company: Bluevale. Headin’ down to the kitchen, where the landline is, I went ahead and called them up and that’s when they told me there was a secret room in the biggest bedroom. I love ya, Ned, but you’re not the kinda guy right now to pass up a master bedroom. After that, it was just knowing where I would hide a secret room: behind my favorite thing!”


“Sound enough logic. But who did it then?”


Urias stammered a bit, a little less certain of himself.


“I guess whoever had the knowledge, equipment, experience, knowledge of the building…”


Urias strained a bit before finally snapping his fingers.


“YOU! It was you, Ned!”


The Nefarious One shook his head, slightly disappointed in his psychiatrist. “Almost, Urias. But I am, importantly, not Ned. He and I are not the same.”


“So… Ned did it. But you said Ned was gone.”


“I had thought he was, but it’s just like what I told to his little friend that I’m going to break on Sunday: real do-gooder types are a pain.”


“So… what now?”


“Now, Urias?” The Nefarious One asked back, “Now, I make Ned’s friend pay for every dime of mine he smashed.”


The Nefarious One solved this case in 8 leads. (You do not have to count 18 HQ for scoring purposes.)

---------


Trash Talk:


“There’s something classic about this… I just can’t put my finger on it. Something about breaking you down in this fashion just brings me back to the days of Steve Jason or some other old man Ned idolized out of some obligation for wrestling fan cred, the social equivalence of a beer pong trophy. But of course anything I touch will be a reminder of a golden era. I’m a throwback kind of star. Always have been. Even weak-kneed Ned was said to be the next James Raven or Centurion or Robert Main. But you boy? The only time someone looks at you and see James Raven is when they see your tweets where you photoshop yourself into his images! You would put your face next to Stalin, boy, if it meant getting some adoration or at least some association. Then again that’s just what you do. Tell everyone around you how they’re getting the rub from you, while sniffing everyone’s shoes for a whiff importance. You project so damn much, I should’ve just ditched my current projector and had you stand at the opposite side of the room with your mouth open! You don’t do or say anything important ever and your shoot yourself in the foot so often that it’s fucking comical. You are the biggest joke of a former Universal Champion since Peter fucking Gilmour. You share the honor of being tossed out of the War Games 2019 match along with Rayne, an incestuous psychopath. You are not impressive. I don’t need to stress that any more than I already have. No, I don’t take you seriously one bit. The worst thing you’ll do to me is hit me with some weapons because you were afraid, and correct, that your fists would never get the job done. I was fully planning to show up there and treat you like the clown you are and let you off with a bloody pie to your face.”


“But then your little friend Ned got concerned and tried to fuck with my body. With my mind. See, I was going to be fairly amicable with my brutality prior, but that Ned Kaye you loved to pretend to love so much? Well, he really didn’t want you to get hurt. He wanted to distract me. To protect you.”


“He made a mistake you’re paying for, boy.”


“I’m no longer here to debase you like I did Morbid or embarrass you like I did Edgar. I will do both, too, but I’m here to fucking break you. And you know the funniest thing about it? Like with all the best things that involve you, you had the slimmest effect on it. Somebody else’s fuckup made me genuinely want to break you in half. You can’t even make me want to bury you right. Lousy fuckin’ challenger. Let me be perfectly clear here: There is no fucking future for you kid. There isn’t an afterlife. Mommy and daddy aren’t coming to see you at the dance recital and swan lake is about to get bloody. Living legend? More like dead meat. You want to find out what your mom went through, kid? Get ready for an encore performance. A remake or reimagining, if you will, of the day a useless sack of protein and water splattered across the goddamn ground. I don’t just want to see you bleed, boy. I want to watch your muscles tear apart underneath. I want to hear you say that pile of self-congratulated garbage you can’t stop spouting through a swollen mouth. I am going to hurt you in ways you thought only your papa’s legacy could. And when I’m done and I’ve tossed you away like the corpse of a bird fed to a wolf, that’s when I’ll grace your name with my voice again. The only time your name ever deserves to be uttered by me ever again…”


“Is at your funeral. Lucky for you, I booked it ahead of time.”]]> <![CDATA[DOCKside of the Moon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40963 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:58:19 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40963
DOCKside of the Moon


I say we eat him!

The sound of ocean waves clash against the beach. DOCK opens his eyes and sees two blurry figures standing in front of him. Ond huge and one very, very small.

Fuck that. He probably tastes like shit. Look at him… He’s all skin and bones… Crispy, too…

DOCK’s vision clears and he sees Peter Gilmour with his wrist chained to a palm tree and an action figure sized Unknown Soldier standing beside him.

Yo! What now, dickhead?

DOCK looks around some more and sees he is on a very small island, with a single palm tree (which Peter Gilmour is attached to), and a pirate ship wrecked in half on each side of it.

What the fuck happened?!

What do you mean, “What the fuck happened?” We wrecked! Don’t you remember?![/shadow]

DOCK FLASHBACK

DOCK thinks back to beating the piss out of the little fucker while he was impaled with a knife against the mast then opens his eyes on the beach.


No.

We were sailing along… On Moonlight Baaaaaaay…

DOCK swats at the little creature as he pushes himself to his feet. The little fucker manages to leap out of his reach and bats his oddly long tongue at DOCK mockingly.

[shadow=#FF4500]Look, Peter. I don’t know how I fucking got here, but I got here. With or without the help of THAT!

DOCK flicks a fireball at the little Unknown Soldier which it does a fancy little backflip to dodge and hisses back at DOCK.

But I’m here for your help.

Peter snickers and stands up, tripping over his own chain that he’s been attached to for years now.

Ha! I knew this day would come!

Don’t be a dick, Gilly.

Suck my dick, DOCK! I’m the one in control here! This is MY island! So it’s MY RULES!

DOCK looks around to the twenty-by-twenty (if that) piece of land that they’re standing on.

Fine, Peter. You make the rules. You’re in charge. Mmkay?

Gilly shrugs and smiles and sits back down by his palm tree.

G- So what can Papa Gilly do for you, DOCK?[/color]

Pap? Uh… I, um… Gily! I need you to dick-punch me to the moon!

Gilly stops rubbing his gym shorts for a second and looks up to DOCK with his full attention. Then he takes part of his attention and even the direction of his head and points it at the action figure sized Unknown Soldier who shares eyes with Gilly those precious few seconds.

Uh, what?

Damnit, Gilly! There’s no more time for questions! I know that the two of us have never really seen eye-to-eye…. Actually, maybe we have! You’re the fucker that claimed my left eye!

s]Hey, suck my dick, alright? Desperate times.[/s]

My point is, Gilly, is that I need YOU to get me to Leap of Faith!

Why the fuck would I help YOU, DOCK?!

Fuck, Gilly! For the sake of the entire XWF!

Gilly jumps up!

Pfft!! FUCK the XWF! It can suck my---

Alright, alright, alright! I get it. You’re still pissed. Okay…

DOCK ponders for a moment while Unknown Soldier a seagull and Gilly stands tall as this is his first chance to feel like a man in years.

Think of it this way, Gilly... Lane and Theo have a couple of guys going in the Leap of Faith match. NOT me! I’m not one of their guys. Lane might say he’s not sure if I am or not, but I’m not. Trust me!

I’ll never trust you!

Gilly points violently and takes a strong step forward.

Listen! Lane and Theo are trying to fix the Leap of Faith match so one of their guys wins and they look like King Shit in front of the other one. I gotta get there to keep them fuckers from getting their wish!

Gilly looks dumbfoundedly at DOCK.

Soooo.. That’s why I tracked you down, Gilly.

I’m not allowed in the Leap of Faith match, DOCK! Those cocksuckers banished me, remember?!

DOCK smacks his head.

And I could never understand why! But, Peter, try to understand that this isn’t about you.

What?

Take a deep breath.

Suck my dick, DOCK! All of this is about me. Why the fuck do you think Theo had to build an island to keep me away!.

I don’t think he BUILT the island--

You know what I mean!

Look, if you would just listen for a second.

I AM listening, DOCK! YOU need to listen! If Lane and Theo want me in the Leap of Faith match, it’s going to be on MY terms. Get it?

DOCK throws sand in his eyes and drinks salt water.

But, of course! Your terms, Peter!

DOCK steps back a moment and lets Gilly ponder a bit.

Who else is in the match?

Well, I’m trying to be.

Fuck off. Who else?

Uhh.. Corey Smith?

Who the fuck is that?

Nobody. You could take ‘em, Peter.

G- Sweet. Okay, who else?[/color]

Demos, Rel Dixon, Sealed Refrigerator, R. L. Edgar, Chris Chaos---

Pfffffffffffffftttt!

What?

Chaos is in the match?

Indeed.

Gilly rolls his eyes and starts to lose interest in the subject quickly. DOCK springs into action to bring Gilly back!

Look, Chaos is Chaos, Gilly... YOU should know all about being our own worst enemy… Chris Chaos is one of those guys who refuse to believe it sometimes.

Think about it? Have you heard what the guy has been saying?

He respects ME! Do YOU respect me Peter?

Gilly spits at DOCK’s feet.

Right. So, Chris Chaos is back to living off of the one time that he survived a session with the old Doc all them years ago. That’s great, Chris. I’ve even used the fact that THAT particular victory over me (and some others) projected your career. Fuck, look what it did to Alias? The guy was already a megastar in everyone’s eyes and now he looks absolutely unbeatable. All because Corey Smith is a terrible referee. And a bitch.

What Chaos is missing is the same thing everyone else (except Corey) is missing. Evolution people. Now, this is kinda silly to think about and I would be lil’ bit embarrassed if I wasn’t Corey Smith right now… But Corey has been in this foul federation since last August and knows a lot more backstory than fellows I was kicking the shit out of back in the teens!! My point is, things change, Chris! Things CHANGE! When you survived a session with the doctor all of those years ago it surprised even YOU and when you were projected to MY heights… You couldn’t handle it. You wanted to be me? You had the chance to be and you dropped the ball. You faltered. You crumbled. But that’s not what this is about, is it? It’s not about how you handled the ball after you got it, it’s not about how you got the ball now, is it? It’s the rebound story. It’s about dropping the ball and picking it back up.

Chaos can trace his footsteps and eat up all those breadcrumbs all he likes thinking he knows what’s coming to him. Things are a lot different now and the environment has changed. I’ve changed. I’m not the one who let him slip by before. I’m not the one that beat him down multiple times after that. I’m the epitome of everything that’s made his time in the XWF the worst. I am that pain in his stomach when I showed up at Savage and entered the Leap of Faith match. He better respect those feelings. He better respect that ONE time. He better respect himself. I may be on the rebound myself, but this is no redemption story for me. Don’t be fucking silly. I don’t need to be told how great I am and I don’t need to be told that I’m not invulnerable. Everyone can get excited all that they want about the KING’s demise, but I assure them ALL that far worse things are to come.

Holy fuck, okay! We all know Chaos is a bitch. Who else is in it?

Uhh.. Thrax.

Trax?!

No! Thhhhhrax.

Oh. Well, fuck him, then.

I agree! Umm.. Who else? Oh! Of course. Jim Caedus.

What? The guy that was always trying to be like me?

None other.

I hate that guy.

Come, now, Gilly! Hate is such a strong word. Even I don’t HATE the man. He’s tried his best, ya know.

Gilly waves of DOCK and starts to wander away.

Alright, alright! I kid! Jim Caedus is a piece of shit.

Thank-you!

Hear me out though! Jimmy is in a rough spot here. I told him what was up and he just thinks Vinnie Lane is some wholesome, loving mother fucker that is in it for Jimmy… Whatever! I told him he was being played and he went on a nine minute tangent about how nice and supportive Vinnie is… blah blah blah. The TRUTH is.. Like I said… Is that Theo and Vinnie get a hair up their asses every so often and have a dick measuring contest that usually results in someone getting beat up. Guess what? It’s JIMMY! He can fake it and try to make it all he wants, I know why I’m here. Corey knows why he’s here, I guess. Someone needs to feed Demos. What is everyone else doing? Who cares! Jimmy is “here” to take Chris Chaos out of the equation, which is absolutely GREAT! However, as easy as Chris Chaos IS to remove from said equation… Maybe it would have just been easier to remove Jimmy before all this started….

Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?

Gilly looks at DOCK like he has no idea what the fuck he is talking about.

Twas I that set up the hit against Caedus on Warfare. I admit it. He was aiming for the head, too! Now, was it fear that made me call up Thunder Knuckles and set up the hit? Was there any doubt within myself that maybe I thought I had to use that $24,700 that I was going to walk away with to pay TK to take out Jim Caedus? To be perfectly honest, that was just for fun. If TK managed to blow Jimmy’s head off, I would’ve found a way, aside from the risque pic of Corey that was actually in the briefcase, to pay the man a decent wage. It’s not about being afraid of Jimmy… It’s avoiding everything we’re suffering through RIGHT NOW.

Jimmy sits there and defends all of this long winded rambling by doing just that… More long winded rambling. Before I bitch too much I guess I should probably clear a few things up. When I thought Jimmy died, it wasn’t the fact I missed when he quit mid-match against Chaos. No. I caught all of that. Thanks again, Jimmy, for reminding us all of it. You’re a cunt and we know. Anywho… I thought Jimmy was dead because either he killed himself… He died in some stupid accident…. Or the police killed him in some mental episode he had because… well.. Jimmy. I was well aware when the guy QUIT the XWF. I seen when Jimmy literally threw in the towel.

Is that something we should be proud of him for? Is that something HE should be defending? Kind of a bitch move, IF you ask me. No one asks me anything though…. You know, I probably owe you an apology, Peter.

Why?

Well, I compared you and Jim Caedus like… I dunno… Twins earlier.

Suck my dick, DOCK. What’s up with this “K” anyway?

Anyway… It’s just you and Jimmy seem to hold onto things and point out the stupidest fucking shit somtimes. And you don’t just bring it up once you have to hammer it over and over and over again…. And imagine having eight other people in the match where he hammers the same points about the same guys over and over again.

I don’t know what you mean.

Everyone’s a cocksucker, Peter.

Well, yeah.

[shadow=#FF4500]I mentioned all this shit, all these similarities to Jimmy and he took some offense to it like being compared to Peter Gilmour is some kind of insult.

Fuck him!

Yes! Jimmy has awards, championships, accolades, and respect…. Gilly has all of those things too right?!

Fucking right!

Yeah! So just because I brag up Jimmy’s fancy trophies doesn’t mean that he’s not still cruisin’ for a bruisin’, right?!

Fuck yess!!!

DOCK has Gilly all wound up now. Peter is hulking out and taking a couple of shots at the palm tree, even harassing tiny Unknown Soldier, a bit.

We all know Jimmy has done well in the past. There’s no mistake! He had the Uni title… He and Chaos won my glorious Shove-It. He likes to talk about everyone else’s run but seems to trigger about losing it himself. He likes to talk about everyone’s mishaps! What Jimmy doesn’t realize is that everyone trips and falls at times. He wants to laugh and make fun of everyone… Call COREY a bully of all people… Talk about calling the kettle black there…. I mean, let’s be honest. Corey can be a little bitchy at times but a bully? Laughing out loud. If anyone around here has been a bully it’s been Jimmy Caedus.

I seriously don’t even know where to begin…. All Jimmy did was call everything out. If you forgot to turn a light off six months ago before bedtime, Jimmy knows about it and you’re gonna hear about it! Seriously…. Everything.

It’s almost tiresome to relive the same things you said or did to someone to this extent. I mean, Jimmy could’ve always been more like Corey and moved on to current events… Like the match coming up? How all of that breath is wasted and all of those hopes and dreams of Vinnie Lane’s pat on the back at the end…. Just doesn’t come true.

I said from the beginning that it was probably going to come down to Corey and I. Why wouldn’t it? We’ve been pulsating waiting to explode at each other since High Stakes! Ugh. Sorry to sound so gross. What I meant to say was we’ve been at each others’ throats for quite some time. With everything at stake now? This is a perfect time for the two of us to let out some built up aggression. Ugh. Sorry again. Corey and I have a lot to talk about. It seems like his purpose in life from his start back in High Stakes has been to keep ME from what I want.

Let’s start with DUKE. It’s no secret the history that we’ve had together with Conundruum and what have you. I had great plans for those titles before Corey was HANDED… Hear that everyone… HANDED by DUKE… That extra title. Of course, Corey would accept it. Duke was his BFF afterall and afterall it WAS a title. You’d have to be some kind of idiot to not accept such a thing right? Whatever. The writing on the wall was there for everyone to see, which no one cared when I pointed it out, but when it eventually blew up in my face I was still the evil no-do-gooder with the master plan. I didn’t have a masterplan. I saw something terrible in Duke and wanted to use it and Corey saw something good in Duke and wanted to use it. Duke had more of a crush on Corey and well, shit, I lost again. Which eventually, as we all witnessed, made everyone lose. Conundruum, that is.

Here’s the thing, I’m tired of taking the fall for all of this crap. I made one mistake thinking that Thaddeus Duke would carry the XWF to new heights and, as I live and breathe, have I regretted it since. It’s time to take matters into my own hands. It’s time to bypass all the bullshit and go for something that’s really going to make people pay attention. I’ve won championships. I’ve won most of them. Everyone knows my reputation and either they cower from it or they step up to it and either is fine with me. Leap of Faith…. This match is not a redemption story. Chaos seeks redemption… I think Caedus is seeking some redemption. Corey just seeks Corey…. I’m not here for redemption. I’m here as the thorn. Everyone has a plan but me and I’m only here to disrupt what’s already in place. Gilly knows. Tell ‘em Gilly! Tell 'em how you're the thorn to the thorn! To the moon with me, right!

Fuck you DOCK!

Do it, Gilly!

FUCK. OFF!!! When you see Lane and Theo… Tell ‘em to SUCK MY DICK!!

Gilly reaches back and with all of his might dick punches DOCK! DOCK sails up into the sky and like a shooting star disappears in the sky.]]>
DOCKside of the Moon


I say we eat him!

The sound of ocean waves clash against the beach. DOCK opens his eyes and sees two blurry figures standing in front of him. Ond huge and one very, very small.

Fuck that. He probably tastes like shit. Look at him… He’s all skin and bones… Crispy, too…

DOCK’s vision clears and he sees Peter Gilmour with his wrist chained to a palm tree and an action figure sized Unknown Soldier standing beside him.

Yo! What now, dickhead?

DOCK looks around some more and sees he is on a very small island, with a single palm tree (which Peter Gilmour is attached to), and a pirate ship wrecked in half on each side of it.

What the fuck happened?!

What do you mean, “What the fuck happened?” We wrecked! Don’t you remember?![/shadow]

DOCK FLASHBACK

DOCK thinks back to beating the piss out of the little fucker while he was impaled with a knife against the mast then opens his eyes on the beach.


No.

We were sailing along… On Moonlight Baaaaaaay…

DOCK swats at the little creature as he pushes himself to his feet. The little fucker manages to leap out of his reach and bats his oddly long tongue at DOCK mockingly.

[shadow=#FF4500]Look, Peter. I don’t know how I fucking got here, but I got here. With or without the help of THAT!

DOCK flicks a fireball at the little Unknown Soldier which it does a fancy little backflip to dodge and hisses back at DOCK.

But I’m here for your help.

Peter snickers and stands up, tripping over his own chain that he’s been attached to for years now.

Ha! I knew this day would come!

Don’t be a dick, Gilly.

Suck my dick, DOCK! I’m the one in control here! This is MY island! So it’s MY RULES!

DOCK looks around to the twenty-by-twenty (if that) piece of land that they’re standing on.

Fine, Peter. You make the rules. You’re in charge. Mmkay?

Gilly shrugs and smiles and sits back down by his palm tree.

G- So what can Papa Gilly do for you, DOCK?[/color]

Pap? Uh… I, um… Gily! I need you to dick-punch me to the moon!

Gilly stops rubbing his gym shorts for a second and looks up to DOCK with his full attention. Then he takes part of his attention and even the direction of his head and points it at the action figure sized Unknown Soldier who shares eyes with Gilly those precious few seconds.

Uh, what?

Damnit, Gilly! There’s no more time for questions! I know that the two of us have never really seen eye-to-eye…. Actually, maybe we have! You’re the fucker that claimed my left eye!

s]Hey, suck my dick, alright? Desperate times.[/s]

My point is, Gilly, is that I need YOU to get me to Leap of Faith!

Why the fuck would I help YOU, DOCK?!

Fuck, Gilly! For the sake of the entire XWF!

Gilly jumps up!

Pfft!! FUCK the XWF! It can suck my---

Alright, alright, alright! I get it. You’re still pissed. Okay…

DOCK ponders for a moment while Unknown Soldier a seagull and Gilly stands tall as this is his first chance to feel like a man in years.

Think of it this way, Gilly... Lane and Theo have a couple of guys going in the Leap of Faith match. NOT me! I’m not one of their guys. Lane might say he’s not sure if I am or not, but I’m not. Trust me!

I’ll never trust you!

Gilly points violently and takes a strong step forward.

Listen! Lane and Theo are trying to fix the Leap of Faith match so one of their guys wins and they look like King Shit in front of the other one. I gotta get there to keep them fuckers from getting their wish!

Gilly looks dumbfoundedly at DOCK.

Soooo.. That’s why I tracked you down, Gilly.

I’m not allowed in the Leap of Faith match, DOCK! Those cocksuckers banished me, remember?!

DOCK smacks his head.

And I could never understand why! But, Peter, try to understand that this isn’t about you.

What?

Take a deep breath.

Suck my dick, DOCK! All of this is about me. Why the fuck do you think Theo had to build an island to keep me away!.

I don’t think he BUILT the island--

You know what I mean!

Look, if you would just listen for a second.

I AM listening, DOCK! YOU need to listen! If Lane and Theo want me in the Leap of Faith match, it’s going to be on MY terms. Get it?

DOCK throws sand in his eyes and drinks salt water.

But, of course! Your terms, Peter!

DOCK steps back a moment and lets Gilly ponder a bit.

Who else is in the match?

Well, I’m trying to be.

Fuck off. Who else?

Uhh.. Corey Smith?

Who the fuck is that?

Nobody. You could take ‘em, Peter.

G- Sweet. Okay, who else?[/color]

Demos, Rel Dixon, Sealed Refrigerator, R. L. Edgar, Chris Chaos---

Pfffffffffffffftttt!

What?

Chaos is in the match?

Indeed.

Gilly rolls his eyes and starts to lose interest in the subject quickly. DOCK springs into action to bring Gilly back!

Look, Chaos is Chaos, Gilly... YOU should know all about being our own worst enemy… Chris Chaos is one of those guys who refuse to believe it sometimes.

Think about it? Have you heard what the guy has been saying?

He respects ME! Do YOU respect me Peter?

Gilly spits at DOCK’s feet.

Right. So, Chris Chaos is back to living off of the one time that he survived a session with the old Doc all them years ago. That’s great, Chris. I’ve even used the fact that THAT particular victory over me (and some others) projected your career. Fuck, look what it did to Alias? The guy was already a megastar in everyone’s eyes and now he looks absolutely unbeatable. All because Corey Smith is a terrible referee. And a bitch.

What Chaos is missing is the same thing everyone else (except Corey) is missing. Evolution people. Now, this is kinda silly to think about and I would be lil’ bit embarrassed if I wasn’t Corey Smith right now… But Corey has been in this foul federation since last August and knows a lot more backstory than fellows I was kicking the shit out of back in the teens!! My point is, things change, Chris! Things CHANGE! When you survived a session with the doctor all of those years ago it surprised even YOU and when you were projected to MY heights… You couldn’t handle it. You wanted to be me? You had the chance to be and you dropped the ball. You faltered. You crumbled. But that’s not what this is about, is it? It’s not about how you handled the ball after you got it, it’s not about how you got the ball now, is it? It’s the rebound story. It’s about dropping the ball and picking it back up.

Chaos can trace his footsteps and eat up all those breadcrumbs all he likes thinking he knows what’s coming to him. Things are a lot different now and the environment has changed. I’ve changed. I’m not the one who let him slip by before. I’m not the one that beat him down multiple times after that. I’m the epitome of everything that’s made his time in the XWF the worst. I am that pain in his stomach when I showed up at Savage and entered the Leap of Faith match. He better respect those feelings. He better respect that ONE time. He better respect himself. I may be on the rebound myself, but this is no redemption story for me. Don’t be fucking silly. I don’t need to be told how great I am and I don’t need to be told that I’m not invulnerable. Everyone can get excited all that they want about the KING’s demise, but I assure them ALL that far worse things are to come.

Holy fuck, okay! We all know Chaos is a bitch. Who else is in it?

Uhh.. Thrax.

Trax?!

No! Thhhhhrax.

Oh. Well, fuck him, then.

I agree! Umm.. Who else? Oh! Of course. Jim Caedus.

What? The guy that was always trying to be like me?

None other.

I hate that guy.

Come, now, Gilly! Hate is such a strong word. Even I don’t HATE the man. He’s tried his best, ya know.

Gilly waves of DOCK and starts to wander away.

Alright, alright! I kid! Jim Caedus is a piece of shit.

Thank-you!

Hear me out though! Jimmy is in a rough spot here. I told him what was up and he just thinks Vinnie Lane is some wholesome, loving mother fucker that is in it for Jimmy… Whatever! I told him he was being played and he went on a nine minute tangent about how nice and supportive Vinnie is… blah blah blah. The TRUTH is.. Like I said… Is that Theo and Vinnie get a hair up their asses every so often and have a dick measuring contest that usually results in someone getting beat up. Guess what? It’s JIMMY! He can fake it and try to make it all he wants, I know why I’m here. Corey knows why he’s here, I guess. Someone needs to feed Demos. What is everyone else doing? Who cares! Jimmy is “here” to take Chris Chaos out of the equation, which is absolutely GREAT! However, as easy as Chris Chaos IS to remove from said equation… Maybe it would have just been easier to remove Jimmy before all this started….

Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?

Gilly looks at DOCK like he has no idea what the fuck he is talking about.

Twas I that set up the hit against Caedus on Warfare. I admit it. He was aiming for the head, too! Now, was it fear that made me call up Thunder Knuckles and set up the hit? Was there any doubt within myself that maybe I thought I had to use that $24,700 that I was going to walk away with to pay TK to take out Jim Caedus? To be perfectly honest, that was just for fun. If TK managed to blow Jimmy’s head off, I would’ve found a way, aside from the risque pic of Corey that was actually in the briefcase, to pay the man a decent wage. It’s not about being afraid of Jimmy… It’s avoiding everything we’re suffering through RIGHT NOW.

Jimmy sits there and defends all of this long winded rambling by doing just that… More long winded rambling. Before I bitch too much I guess I should probably clear a few things up. When I thought Jimmy died, it wasn’t the fact I missed when he quit mid-match against Chaos. No. I caught all of that. Thanks again, Jimmy, for reminding us all of it. You’re a cunt and we know. Anywho… I thought Jimmy was dead because either he killed himself… He died in some stupid accident…. Or the police killed him in some mental episode he had because… well.. Jimmy. I was well aware when the guy QUIT the XWF. I seen when Jimmy literally threw in the towel.

Is that something we should be proud of him for? Is that something HE should be defending? Kind of a bitch move, IF you ask me. No one asks me anything though…. You know, I probably owe you an apology, Peter.

Why?

Well, I compared you and Jim Caedus like… I dunno… Twins earlier.

Suck my dick, DOCK. What’s up with this “K” anyway?

Anyway… It’s just you and Jimmy seem to hold onto things and point out the stupidest fucking shit somtimes. And you don’t just bring it up once you have to hammer it over and over and over again…. And imagine having eight other people in the match where he hammers the same points about the same guys over and over again.

I don’t know what you mean.

Everyone’s a cocksucker, Peter.

Well, yeah.

[shadow=#FF4500]I mentioned all this shit, all these similarities to Jimmy and he took some offense to it like being compared to Peter Gilmour is some kind of insult.

Fuck him!

Yes! Jimmy has awards, championships, accolades, and respect…. Gilly has all of those things too right?!

Fucking right!

Yeah! So just because I brag up Jimmy’s fancy trophies doesn’t mean that he’s not still cruisin’ for a bruisin’, right?!

Fuck yess!!!

DOCK has Gilly all wound up now. Peter is hulking out and taking a couple of shots at the palm tree, even harassing tiny Unknown Soldier, a bit.

We all know Jimmy has done well in the past. There’s no mistake! He had the Uni title… He and Chaos won my glorious Shove-It. He likes to talk about everyone else’s run but seems to trigger about losing it himself. He likes to talk about everyone’s mishaps! What Jimmy doesn’t realize is that everyone trips and falls at times. He wants to laugh and make fun of everyone… Call COREY a bully of all people… Talk about calling the kettle black there…. I mean, let’s be honest. Corey can be a little bitchy at times but a bully? Laughing out loud. If anyone around here has been a bully it’s been Jimmy Caedus.

I seriously don’t even know where to begin…. All Jimmy did was call everything out. If you forgot to turn a light off six months ago before bedtime, Jimmy knows about it and you’re gonna hear about it! Seriously…. Everything.

It’s almost tiresome to relive the same things you said or did to someone to this extent. I mean, Jimmy could’ve always been more like Corey and moved on to current events… Like the match coming up? How all of that breath is wasted and all of those hopes and dreams of Vinnie Lane’s pat on the back at the end…. Just doesn’t come true.

I said from the beginning that it was probably going to come down to Corey and I. Why wouldn’t it? We’ve been pulsating waiting to explode at each other since High Stakes! Ugh. Sorry to sound so gross. What I meant to say was we’ve been at each others’ throats for quite some time. With everything at stake now? This is a perfect time for the two of us to let out some built up aggression. Ugh. Sorry again. Corey and I have a lot to talk about. It seems like his purpose in life from his start back in High Stakes has been to keep ME from what I want.

Let’s start with DUKE. It’s no secret the history that we’ve had together with Conundruum and what have you. I had great plans for those titles before Corey was HANDED… Hear that everyone… HANDED by DUKE… That extra title. Of course, Corey would accept it. Duke was his BFF afterall and afterall it WAS a title. You’d have to be some kind of idiot to not accept such a thing right? Whatever. The writing on the wall was there for everyone to see, which no one cared when I pointed it out, but when it eventually blew up in my face I was still the evil no-do-gooder with the master plan. I didn’t have a masterplan. I saw something terrible in Duke and wanted to use it and Corey saw something good in Duke and wanted to use it. Duke had more of a crush on Corey and well, shit, I lost again. Which eventually, as we all witnessed, made everyone lose. Conundruum, that is.

Here’s the thing, I’m tired of taking the fall for all of this crap. I made one mistake thinking that Thaddeus Duke would carry the XWF to new heights and, as I live and breathe, have I regretted it since. It’s time to take matters into my own hands. It’s time to bypass all the bullshit and go for something that’s really going to make people pay attention. I’ve won championships. I’ve won most of them. Everyone knows my reputation and either they cower from it or they step up to it and either is fine with me. Leap of Faith…. This match is not a redemption story. Chaos seeks redemption… I think Caedus is seeking some redemption. Corey just seeks Corey…. I’m not here for redemption. I’m here as the thorn. Everyone has a plan but me and I’m only here to disrupt what’s already in place. Gilly knows. Tell ‘em Gilly! Tell 'em how you're the thorn to the thorn! To the moon with me, right!

Fuck you DOCK!

Do it, Gilly!

FUCK. OFF!!! When you see Lane and Theo… Tell ‘em to SUCK MY DICK!!

Gilly reaches back and with all of his might dick punches DOCK! DOCK sails up into the sky and like a shooting star disappears in the sky.]]> <![CDATA[Waning Gibbous]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40907 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:57:30 -0700 Dolly Waters]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40907
Profound...



...yeah. That’s an understatement.

Mayday.

An XWF Shove It, the likes of which not seen since the “Great American”, or the one down “Where The Sun Don’t Shine”. My moon-shoot of solidarity turned bedlam, and mania, with consequences that eclipsed them all. Revolutions born and dying. Rivalries fomenting and fizzling. The landscape of the XWF shifting… forever. And most notably, me standing in this godforsaken landfill of a yard spearing trash under the whip of the afternoon sun.

I started off this morning as I did each, out of bed early. Sprung and conscious. Early enough to get ahead of the daylight. A programmed and meticulous dive into logistics and planning of the commune. A meditative-like inventory of the pantry. A thoughtful and smooth assigning of duties and roles for the residents. A prompt correspondence through a bevy of official voicemails, texts, and emails. And a quiet, glancing question into the mirror behind a cup of coffee.

Well... Perhaps I was a bit more autopilot this morning than usual, but I’d have it no other way.

Where no one would bat an eye at the host of an event such as XWF Mayday being pampered into the post-acclaim and celebration of a job ”Well done!”, offering a thanksgiving of jubilation and extended rest - I could bask in nothing. There’s always work to be done. I was up into the wee hours of the lightless eve. Moving, as I am now, almost without a beating heart. Working up as calm a presence as capable while shifting through the chaos. Meeting with, and thanking various XWF talent in the mansion. Directing traffic to have the ring disassembled and moved off of the property.

Luckily, with an unsolicited helping hand from the Governor of Florida, the National Guard was taking care of my mass-transient issue. The million-or-so new-hearted hopefuls gathered to be a part of history in the midst of their retread of a cultural renaissance.

A renaissance that would wax on, and wain off.

Just like the light of the moon.

We’ve all seen this before.

Especially as I stand here now, sleepless and blistered by the sun. Worn and disillusioned. Stuffing an endless heap of garbage into an overencumbered bag. A bag made, consequently out of recycled garbage. Who was I kidding anyway? Why did I think hosting Mayday was a good idea? It’s left me here alone. No revolutionaries. No reinvigoration of the heart. Just the burnt dreams of Dolly Waters picking up the trash that I created.

Looking back two-hundred yards I saw Corey shifting out of the mansion doors. Dark shades on his eyes, and a twitchy way about him. Obviously, given the time of day, he got some decent sleep. Lucky him. And without even so much as a wave, he was off with his lover.

Heh.

Fuck it, right?

I mean he and Thad were the reasons I decided to put on that “HELLuva” show last night. To show them that I did still care, and took their work in the XWF seriously. Remind them that I supported their dreams. I knew those dreams as well as anyone. Because my heartbeat too, sounds like a bell striking at ringside. I wanted to show them both that I stood with them in solidarity with their fight even though I was no longer a part of it. Through the unspoken sorrows of their defeats, and the charmingly coy smiles of their victories. Those are my brothers. Without them I’d be nothing. Dead. A forgotten and unfullied piece to this puzzle of existence.

And yet, with such regards, here I am alone like a cheap prop. The New Moon bore a good gesture and meaning in my heart. But the Waning Gibbous sliced thin and deep just to the edge of the surface. Reminding me of the need to discard the baggage.

I slung the bag of trash to the ground and began marching back toward the mansion. I had an idea and one that was only further solidified by the sudden rustle of thick Floridian air.



A rocket slashing through the atmosphere from a not-so-far Cap Canavrill. ITreminded me of Vinnie Lane’s words from last night. As I took a moment alone, sneaking a cigarette as I sometimes do, he stepped out next to me, pulling a hit from his vape.

“That was an interesting night.”

He said, facesticious, and looking away from me into the vacancy of the night sky,

I didn’t really respond, just a chuckling puff through my nose while exhaling my smoke. There was a moment of quiet before Lane started to dive into an unneeded compliment, but with my eyes also plastered into the cosmos I cut him off-

So y’all are really going up there?

He turned and smiled,

“How else are we going to top what happened here tonight?”

I watched the rocket pierce through the skies and rip higher into the heavens. On a collision course with its own cycle of birth, and death. And so mine was beginning as well… and c'est la vie.

In The MEANtime


XWF...

I'M BACK!!!

I would say it's been a while, but it really hasn't. Hell Dolly Waters has been plastered on yer' televisions in some form or fashion since I decided to roll in, and roll out back in December. You know? The time where Corey Smith and I thoroughly kicked the shit out of Raven and Centurion?

Look... I get it.

Maybe yer' ALL feeling a bit of Dolly-saturation as of late but it ain't my fault!

SWEAR!

It's like people know I'm money or something, and just can't help but have the cameras around me when filming vignettes. But I wonder why that is? I wonder why after a two-year hiatus I came back to the XWF and thoroughly filleted a couple of self-proclaimed Legends? I wonder why me, the little flakey cunt who couldn't, got her name plastered upon an all-time greatest list of this business? A list that I originally debuted on along with a bunch of other "Legends". When I've barely wrestled a year's worth of matches XWF! What does that make me?

Call any and all of the bullshit you wish, but I'm one of the best to ever do it here... and THAT'S how I'll be remembered when all is said and done. That's exactly why I'm back. To stand, or float out in zero gravity, with my brothers Corey and Thad and make Dolly Waters' mark on the XWF one that'll never be forgotten. For a girl who never even REALLY got her feet wet in this business, I made quite the waves, didn't I? That's how it's always been. I'm battled tested. This business is in my blood.

Leap Of Faith is the beginning of a new cycle of ass-kicking for Dolly Waters.

Dick Powers? Make no mistake about it...

I WANT Dick...

Hell...

I NEED Dick...

Wait. Going to have to say something different.

OH YEAH!

FUCK DICK!

Goddamnit.

There's really no good way of doing this.

I'm looking forward to beating Dick-

No. Fuck this. Cut the camera.

I'll see y'all on the moon.

Dick Powers is bitch!]]>
Profound...



...yeah. That’s an understatement.

Mayday.

An XWF Shove It, the likes of which not seen since the “Great American”, or the one down “Where The Sun Don’t Shine”. My moon-shoot of solidarity turned bedlam, and mania, with consequences that eclipsed them all. Revolutions born and dying. Rivalries fomenting and fizzling. The landscape of the XWF shifting… forever. And most notably, me standing in this godforsaken landfill of a yard spearing trash under the whip of the afternoon sun.

I started off this morning as I did each, out of bed early. Sprung and conscious. Early enough to get ahead of the daylight. A programmed and meticulous dive into logistics and planning of the commune. A meditative-like inventory of the pantry. A thoughtful and smooth assigning of duties and roles for the residents. A prompt correspondence through a bevy of official voicemails, texts, and emails. And a quiet, glancing question into the mirror behind a cup of coffee.

Well... Perhaps I was a bit more autopilot this morning than usual, but I’d have it no other way.

Where no one would bat an eye at the host of an event such as XWF Mayday being pampered into the post-acclaim and celebration of a job ”Well done!”, offering a thanksgiving of jubilation and extended rest - I could bask in nothing. There’s always work to be done. I was up into the wee hours of the lightless eve. Moving, as I am now, almost without a beating heart. Working up as calm a presence as capable while shifting through the chaos. Meeting with, and thanking various XWF talent in the mansion. Directing traffic to have the ring disassembled and moved off of the property.

Luckily, with an unsolicited helping hand from the Governor of Florida, the National Guard was taking care of my mass-transient issue. The million-or-so new-hearted hopefuls gathered to be a part of history in the midst of their retread of a cultural renaissance.

A renaissance that would wax on, and wain off.

Just like the light of the moon.

We’ve all seen this before.

Especially as I stand here now, sleepless and blistered by the sun. Worn and disillusioned. Stuffing an endless heap of garbage into an overencumbered bag. A bag made, consequently out of recycled garbage. Who was I kidding anyway? Why did I think hosting Mayday was a good idea? It’s left me here alone. No revolutionaries. No reinvigoration of the heart. Just the burnt dreams of Dolly Waters picking up the trash that I created.

Looking back two-hundred yards I saw Corey shifting out of the mansion doors. Dark shades on his eyes, and a twitchy way about him. Obviously, given the time of day, he got some decent sleep. Lucky him. And without even so much as a wave, he was off with his lover.

Heh.

Fuck it, right?

I mean he and Thad were the reasons I decided to put on that “HELLuva” show last night. To show them that I did still care, and took their work in the XWF seriously. Remind them that I supported their dreams. I knew those dreams as well as anyone. Because my heartbeat too, sounds like a bell striking at ringside. I wanted to show them both that I stood with them in solidarity with their fight even though I was no longer a part of it. Through the unspoken sorrows of their defeats, and the charmingly coy smiles of their victories. Those are my brothers. Without them I’d be nothing. Dead. A forgotten and unfullied piece to this puzzle of existence.

And yet, with such regards, here I am alone like a cheap prop. The New Moon bore a good gesture and meaning in my heart. But the Waning Gibbous sliced thin and deep just to the edge of the surface. Reminding me of the need to discard the baggage.

I slung the bag of trash to the ground and began marching back toward the mansion. I had an idea and one that was only further solidified by the sudden rustle of thick Floridian air.



A rocket slashing through the atmosphere from a not-so-far Cap Canavrill. ITreminded me of Vinnie Lane’s words from last night. As I took a moment alone, sneaking a cigarette as I sometimes do, he stepped out next to me, pulling a hit from his vape.

“That was an interesting night.”

He said, facesticious, and looking away from me into the vacancy of the night sky,

I didn’t really respond, just a chuckling puff through my nose while exhaling my smoke. There was a moment of quiet before Lane started to dive into an unneeded compliment, but with my eyes also plastered into the cosmos I cut him off-

So y’all are really going up there?

He turned and smiled,

“How else are we going to top what happened here tonight?”

I watched the rocket pierce through the skies and rip higher into the heavens. On a collision course with its own cycle of birth, and death. And so mine was beginning as well… and c'est la vie.

In The MEANtime


XWF...

I'M BACK!!!

I would say it's been a while, but it really hasn't. Hell Dolly Waters has been plastered on yer' televisions in some form or fashion since I decided to roll in, and roll out back in December. You know? The time where Corey Smith and I thoroughly kicked the shit out of Raven and Centurion?

Look... I get it.

Maybe yer' ALL feeling a bit of Dolly-saturation as of late but it ain't my fault!

SWEAR!

It's like people know I'm money or something, and just can't help but have the cameras around me when filming vignettes. But I wonder why that is? I wonder why after a two-year hiatus I came back to the XWF and thoroughly filleted a couple of self-proclaimed Legends? I wonder why me, the little flakey cunt who couldn't, got her name plastered upon an all-time greatest list of this business? A list that I originally debuted on along with a bunch of other "Legends". When I've barely wrestled a year's worth of matches XWF! What does that make me?

Call any and all of the bullshit you wish, but I'm one of the best to ever do it here... and THAT'S how I'll be remembered when all is said and done. That's exactly why I'm back. To stand, or float out in zero gravity, with my brothers Corey and Thad and make Dolly Waters' mark on the XWF one that'll never be forgotten. For a girl who never even REALLY got her feet wet in this business, I made quite the waves, didn't I? That's how it's always been. I'm battled tested. This business is in my blood.

Leap Of Faith is the beginning of a new cycle of ass-kicking for Dolly Waters.

Dick Powers? Make no mistake about it...

I WANT Dick...

Hell...

I NEED Dick...

Wait. Going to have to say something different.

OH YEAH!

FUCK DICK!

Goddamnit.

There's really no good way of doing this.

I'm looking forward to beating Dick-

No. Fuck this. Cut the camera.

I'll see y'all on the moon.

Dick Powers is bitch!]]> <![CDATA[Remolding a Legend]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40962 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:56:04 -0700 HeavensToBetsy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40962 Ever since he’d first laid his eyes on her, Poseidon had never taken them off of Medusa. As he watched her fall into her routine with ease, his obsession and passion for her only grew; with it, his hatred and jealousy of Athena. Still bitter over being passed over as Athens chief deity in her favor, now he fumed from just below the water’s surface over being denied the woman that kindled his passion. Knowing he would never have her as a bride while she held fast to her devotion to her goddess, Poseidon had been formulating a plan for his revenge. On this particular afternoon, he waited patiently, knowing it was time to put his plan into action. He watched as Helios made his daily rotation through the land; as he hovered over the water, Medusa appeared, bow in hand and quiver slung over her shoulder. Despite his intentions, Poseidon felt his heart flutter for a moment at the sight of her; no matter how spurned he’d felt at her rejection, it would never take away the beauty he admired. Shaking that thought off, he rises from the surface as she approaches the archery buttes.

Green eyes widen with surprise as she looks over and spots the god rising from the waves. Dropping her bow, she falls to her knees and bows her head before him. A grin tugs at his lips at this supplication, but the sight of Athena’s temple up the hill reminds him of his motivation. Bringing the girl to her feet gently, he cups her cheeks in his palms and gazes deeply into her eyes.

“My one true love...”

He murmurs and allowing reason to leave him, leans in for a kiss. With a gasp, Medusa pulls herself away, though she’s visibly trembling. Her cheeks are scarlet and her eyes are wide and panicked.

“Please... You know I cannot.”

“I know it, my heart; but I beg you to understand and forgive my actions. You’ve captured my very heart, you reside in the deepest parts of my soul; I know I can never have you, but would you indulge a fool in love and allow me to walk you back to the temple?”

Medusa looks unsure of how to reply, so Poseidon catches her with his most disarming smile. It nearly turns to a smirk when he sees how easily it causes the girl to falter; Medusa shakes her head and turns to lead him to the temple. He catches her up and keeps pace and the two quietly return to the stone building. Medusa is shocked to see that it is empty and turns to Poseidon with a confused gaze.

“Normally there is someone else here, a higher-ranked Priestess who would let Athena know you are here to seek an audience. I suppose I cou-”

Before she could finish, Poseidon had grabbed her up into his arms again; she struggled against him desperately, but he held her tightly against him. Kisses begin to land on her bare shoulders, her neck, finally he manages to catch her lips with his and crushes them against her. A soft moan escapes her as she feels the last of her resistance fading and allows herself to fall into him completely. In the heat of his desire, Poseidon pushes Medusa back against a wall and pins her there; a loud cry of pain and pleasure reverberates through the temple as Medusa’s virginity is taken from her. Losing herself to the sensations, Medusa is only vaguely aware of the sin she is committing as Poseidon continues to take her mercilessly. The initial pain begins to turn into overwhelming pleasure and the natures of her cries begin to change; with an evil smile, Poseidon thrusts into her one last time and releases his seed inside of her.

“YOU WOULD DARE?”

The voice came loud and angry, causing the entire temple to shake at its very foundations. Dust and fine rock debris fall from the highest points as Poseidon unceremoniously releases Medusa and allows her to fall to the ground. Naked and ashamed, Medusa scrambles to crawl to the altar and casts herself upon it in mercy.

“Forgive me, my Goddess. I have-”

“SILENCE!”

Athena appears before them, from a cloud of gold on top of Zeus’s eagle. Terror grips Medusa as she stares up at the fantastic sight before her; turning for support, her heart sinks when she realizes that Poseidon was now long gone. Tears sting at the back of her eyes at this betrayal, but she blinks them back as she rises to face her enraged goddess. Athena’s beautiful face is twisted with anger and betrayal as she looks down upon Medusa.

“You would allow yourself to become tainted in my temple of worship? You stupid, foolish child; how could you allow any man or god to take from you which I held most dear?”

Now the tears fall as Medusa looks up to her Goddess, her face hiding nothing of her fears.

“Please, my lady, I beg of you to forgive me.”

Athena only shakes her head and lifts an accusing finger towards Medusa as a reply; moments later, pain begins to course through Medusa’s body, causing her to scream out in agony. She watches with growing horror as her skin takes on a light-green hue and grows scaly and cracked. She touches her face as its shape begins to contort into something grotesque. Grabbing up one of the silver plates from the altar, she braves a glance at her reflection. The screams come unbidden as she stares into the face of a monster; glowing red eyes and hideous features transform the once stunning face into the stuff of nightmares. But worst of all, she watches helplessly as her golden hair becomes a mass of live snakes, slithery and venomous. It’s the last image she remembers before the entire world goes black around her...

***

“Oh, Atara… Are you truly so shallow that you would grasp at such weak straws to try and discredit me? Let me ask you a real question based on some of the things you’ve been saying recently: If I’m copying the trajectory of your career, how many others before you did YOU imitate, hmmm? You don’t believe you’re the first to jump from the ring to a television set, do you? Nor are you foolish enough to think you are the first person ever to be the introductory champion to a new title, surely. I know I’m giving you a lot of credit right now, as you’ve made it clear that your ego is fragile as it is massive; I wouldn’t want you to think I find you vapid and shallow, now would I? I never accused you of not having any talent or a deep thought now and then, I just don’t want you falsely believing that anything you’ve ever done in this industry has been original or ground-breaking. I don’t give a fuck about breaking a glass ceiling that you never even put there, to begin with.

Of course, my career is going parallel with yours; despite all my high and mighty talking towards Jenny Myst, I’ve allowed my agents to expand my horizons. It was only a matter of time before production companies started knocking at my door as well; I just decided to stop being an uptight twat and answer the call. I’ve faced off against some of the same folks like you with varying results; big deal. They sought me out, not the other way around; all I did was come in and gave it my all. We’re two sides of the same coin, Atty and we always will be. Our destinies have linked us permanently, so for better or for worse, I have to deal with the fact that you are a darker reflection of myself. All the temptations and selfish desires I fight back every day, you caved into without hesitation. You fucked off from Shawn, from me, and just for the record, you can fuck off from James, too.

Oh yes, I wasn’t going to leave that string hanging; you, James, and I know the truth while everyone has continued with their pessimistic speculations. You’ve fed into the rumors with your impressive manipulated photos and videos; it also doesn’t help that James doesn’t fight the things you say, either. It lends suspicion to an already delicate situation and for some reason, he refuses to cut you out of his circle despite all this bullshit you’ve been spewing. It doesn’t change the fact that James went out of his way to prove his innocence to me; I have in my possession every second of security footage from the time you and James spent alone in that house together. And Atty… You are not the mistress. I know some would say ‘But Betsy, isn’t it possible that they saved those activities for another place and time?’. And to that, I’m giving a firm no and standing by James. His reputation may be against him in some circles; hell, we’ve all seen him do some terrible things in his time in the business. But I will NOT allow him to be vilified for acts he never committed. After two and a half years with someone, you get to know them pretty well; James would never be able to look me in the eye if he had anything to hide from me. So all those lies you’ve spouted about you and James, in your failed attempt to demoralize me and get under my skin… You can fucking choke on every word.

You’ve come after me after you and Shawn broke up by coming after what’s mine; I don’t give a fuck about the Shooting Star Title at this point. If you want it back, come fucking take it from me, your overrated piece of trash. I don’t give a good god damn if I walk out of Leap of Faith with the championship or not, because I’ll be walking away with the most valuable prize of all: James. Try as you like, Atara, but you’ll never have him from me; if he wanted you, he would have taken you any time he wanted. I don’t have him locked up with a ball and chain, the man is free to do as he pleases… Luckily, that happens to be me. Every night, for the rest of our lives. It’s going to take more than another wannabe Venus to come in between what James and I have; more to the point, it’s going to take more than Atara Themis to cause Legacy to crumble.

You and your sister are absolutely NOTHING, Atara; all this effort you’ve made to get into my head have been for not. Women like you would do and say anything to get what you want; women like me will always be right there to knock you back into your place. Maybe Shawn was too soft to do what should have been done during March Madness, but I can assure you wholeheartedly that you won’t be facing that same issue with me come Leap of Faith. In this story, Adonis wisely chose steady, loyal Persephone over the intoxicating, temporary allure of Aphrodite. You seem to think James would have any interest in diving into Shawn’s sloppy seconds when he’s got an Impossible Traveler ready to give him the stars themselves; I promise you he doesn’t. You are his friend and he indulges your thirst over Twitter because of it; you and all the other women who are frequently drooling over his shirtless photos and gifs. I can’t say I blame them, he is a blue-ribbon stud, and guess what Atty.

He’s all mine.

So try your best, try your worst, try everything you can. James, like the Shooting Star Title, is staying with me, come what may. And there isn’t a fucking thing you can do to change that. You think being up on the moon is going to grant you access to the gods you worship; but the truth is, you’ll be in my playground, bitch. The stars, the moon… Space itself is my domain and I’m the one who brought you to it. Or have you forgotten so soon in all your egotistical ranting about being held back in the shadows? It doesn’t matter, because once Leap of Faith comes to a close, you’ll understand why you never had a chance.

See you there, Atty.”

***

Years had passed since that fateful day in Athens, and Medusa had yet to leave the cave to which Athena had banished her. Many had come to slay her at the will of the goddess, but only their rock sculpture remains gave away the fact that there had ever been anyone else there. On this particular day, sitting upon her makeshift throne, a voice in the wind warned her of the arrival of another warrior. Sighing heavily, Medusa slips from her seat and gathers up her weapons; another of Athena’s champions, sent for her head, undoubtedly. Creeping into the shadows, she remains silent as she patiently waits for this newest intruder to make himself known. It isn’t long; footsteps echo off the damp rocks long before the figure appears. The first thing Medusa notices is the resourcefulness of the young man, the way he held his shield before him around corners so that he would catch only her reflection first. She smirks, knowing full well that the tactic would only have a temporary advantage. She takes in the rest of the young man; he’s tall and thin, though with clear muscle definition in his arms and torso. His blonde hair is damp with sweat and clings to his scalp in matted clumps. His curious eyes dart around cautiously, sword held out and ready just in case. A chuckle escaped her lips, bouncing loudly off the rocks and causing the young man to jump.

“Show yourself!”

He calls out in a confident, clear voice that doesn’t match his reaction to her giggles. Rolling her eyes, Medusa remains in the shadows as she replies.

“I don’t think you want me to do that; surely you’ve seen what happens when I appear?”

“Reveal yourself, foul creature, and meet your fate with dignity!”

“Who are you, boy? I always like to know the name of Athena’s newest champion before he meets the same fate as the others.”

She watches with gleeful resentment as his confidence falters for a moment. His eyes sweep the room nervously, once again taking in the many figures of men who had tried before him in his task and failed. Quickly, he straightens up and stiffens his shoulders, tightening his grip on his sword.

“I am Perseus, sent by Athena to claim the head of the hideous hag who dwells in these rocks; I seek the one who betrayed her long ago.”

Years of grief-stricken rage and bitterness consume her as her face contorts into an expression of agony. Memories come back unbidden, and she begins to weep, exhausted suddenly by the self-hatred and loneliness.

“Indeed, it should be you that slays the beast this day, Perseus; take care not to look into my face, lest you share the fate of these hapless fools before you. Take my head to your goddess as patronage and revel in the rewards she would bestow upon you for such success.”

Slowly, her head held carefully down, she retreats from the shadows and reveals herself through the thin light between the rocks. Perseus backs away with a gasp of horror, disgusted by the woman before him. Medusa nods, getting to her knees, her head still hanging low.

“My only request is that you are swift; one strong swing of your sword to end my misery.”

Perseus holds the sword high over his head, prepared to swing when something in her voice stays in his hand. Looking upon the wretched monster before him, pity suddenly sweeps through him; setting down his sword, he kneels in the dirt before her and places a hand on her shoulder.

“How did you end up here?”

The question is spoken softly and unexpectedly that Medusa lets out a startled gasp and looks up. They lock eyes and her heart stops with fear, realizing that she’d just sentenced this stranger to death. But as they continue to stare, nothing happens to him. Confused, Medusa covers her face. Perseus, ever patient, pulls her hands away and continues to look at her steadily.

“How did this happen to you, Medusa? Who did this to you and why?"

“It was Athena after Poseidon betrayed me...”

And as the words tumbled from her lips, Perseus listened with fascination as his intentions began to change with Medusa’s words. Though his loyalties and worship went to Athena, Medusa’s story moved him deeply. Thinking of his journey and hardships, he looks to the woman before him and he begins to see the remains of the beauty she’d once been. Knowing there would be hell to pay, Perseus makes his fateful decision.

“The gods would use us as pawns and throw us away to our fate without another thought. What has happened to you is cruel and unjustified; I find myself compelled to help you. Allow me to spare your life and together, we will take revenge on all those who would wrong us.”

Medusa looks to Perseus in surprise, her naturally green eyes shining through the glowing red for a moment.

“You risk incurring the wrath of your goddess; are you sure this is the path you wish to take?”

“It is the only path I wish to take moving onward; will you journey it with me? Together, we will take our revenge on anyone who would wrong us and take everything the gods would withhold from us.”

Rising to his feet, Perseus looks down at Medusa and holds out his hand to her. She hesitates, fearing that this would be little more than an elaborate trick to lower her guard; after several agonizing moments of indecision, she finally accepts his hand and allows him to pull her gently to her feet. They remain there, hands clasped and locked in a gaze as history begins to reshape all around them… ]]> Ever since he’d first laid his eyes on her, Poseidon had never taken them off of Medusa. As he watched her fall into her routine with ease, his obsession and passion for her only grew; with it, his hatred and jealousy of Athena. Still bitter over being passed over as Athens chief deity in her favor, now he fumed from just below the water’s surface over being denied the woman that kindled his passion. Knowing he would never have her as a bride while she held fast to her devotion to her goddess, Poseidon had been formulating a plan for his revenge. On this particular afternoon, he waited patiently, knowing it was time to put his plan into action. He watched as Helios made his daily rotation through the land; as he hovered over the water, Medusa appeared, bow in hand and quiver slung over her shoulder. Despite his intentions, Poseidon felt his heart flutter for a moment at the sight of her; no matter how spurned he’d felt at her rejection, it would never take away the beauty he admired. Shaking that thought off, he rises from the surface as she approaches the archery buttes.

Green eyes widen with surprise as she looks over and spots the god rising from the waves. Dropping her bow, she falls to her knees and bows her head before him. A grin tugs at his lips at this supplication, but the sight of Athena’s temple up the hill reminds him of his motivation. Bringing the girl to her feet gently, he cups her cheeks in his palms and gazes deeply into her eyes.

“My one true love...”

He murmurs and allowing reason to leave him, leans in for a kiss. With a gasp, Medusa pulls herself away, though she’s visibly trembling. Her cheeks are scarlet and her eyes are wide and panicked.

“Please... You know I cannot.”

“I know it, my heart; but I beg you to understand and forgive my actions. You’ve captured my very heart, you reside in the deepest parts of my soul; I know I can never have you, but would you indulge a fool in love and allow me to walk you back to the temple?”

Medusa looks unsure of how to reply, so Poseidon catches her with his most disarming smile. It nearly turns to a smirk when he sees how easily it causes the girl to falter; Medusa shakes her head and turns to lead him to the temple. He catches her up and keeps pace and the two quietly return to the stone building. Medusa is shocked to see that it is empty and turns to Poseidon with a confused gaze.

“Normally there is someone else here, a higher-ranked Priestess who would let Athena know you are here to seek an audience. I suppose I cou-”

Before she could finish, Poseidon had grabbed her up into his arms again; she struggled against him desperately, but he held her tightly against him. Kisses begin to land on her bare shoulders, her neck, finally he manages to catch her lips with his and crushes them against her. A soft moan escapes her as she feels the last of her resistance fading and allows herself to fall into him completely. In the heat of his desire, Poseidon pushes Medusa back against a wall and pins her there; a loud cry of pain and pleasure reverberates through the temple as Medusa’s virginity is taken from her. Losing herself to the sensations, Medusa is only vaguely aware of the sin she is committing as Poseidon continues to take her mercilessly. The initial pain begins to turn into overwhelming pleasure and the natures of her cries begin to change; with an evil smile, Poseidon thrusts into her one last time and releases his seed inside of her.

“YOU WOULD DARE?”

The voice came loud and angry, causing the entire temple to shake at its very foundations. Dust and fine rock debris fall from the highest points as Poseidon unceremoniously releases Medusa and allows her to fall to the ground. Naked and ashamed, Medusa scrambles to crawl to the altar and casts herself upon it in mercy.

“Forgive me, my Goddess. I have-”

“SILENCE!”

Athena appears before them, from a cloud of gold on top of Zeus’s eagle. Terror grips Medusa as she stares up at the fantastic sight before her; turning for support, her heart sinks when she realizes that Poseidon was now long gone. Tears sting at the back of her eyes at this betrayal, but she blinks them back as she rises to face her enraged goddess. Athena’s beautiful face is twisted with anger and betrayal as she looks down upon Medusa.

“You would allow yourself to become tainted in my temple of worship? You stupid, foolish child; how could you allow any man or god to take from you which I held most dear?”

Now the tears fall as Medusa looks up to her Goddess, her face hiding nothing of her fears.

“Please, my lady, I beg of you to forgive me.”

Athena only shakes her head and lifts an accusing finger towards Medusa as a reply; moments later, pain begins to course through Medusa’s body, causing her to scream out in agony. She watches with growing horror as her skin takes on a light-green hue and grows scaly and cracked. She touches her face as its shape begins to contort into something grotesque. Grabbing up one of the silver plates from the altar, she braves a glance at her reflection. The screams come unbidden as she stares into the face of a monster; glowing red eyes and hideous features transform the once stunning face into the stuff of nightmares. But worst of all, she watches helplessly as her golden hair becomes a mass of live snakes, slithery and venomous. It’s the last image she remembers before the entire world goes black around her...

***

“Oh, Atara… Are you truly so shallow that you would grasp at such weak straws to try and discredit me? Let me ask you a real question based on some of the things you’ve been saying recently: If I’m copying the trajectory of your career, how many others before you did YOU imitate, hmmm? You don’t believe you’re the first to jump from the ring to a television set, do you? Nor are you foolish enough to think you are the first person ever to be the introductory champion to a new title, surely. I know I’m giving you a lot of credit right now, as you’ve made it clear that your ego is fragile as it is massive; I wouldn’t want you to think I find you vapid and shallow, now would I? I never accused you of not having any talent or a deep thought now and then, I just don’t want you falsely believing that anything you’ve ever done in this industry has been original or ground-breaking. I don’t give a fuck about breaking a glass ceiling that you never even put there, to begin with.

Of course, my career is going parallel with yours; despite all my high and mighty talking towards Jenny Myst, I’ve allowed my agents to expand my horizons. It was only a matter of time before production companies started knocking at my door as well; I just decided to stop being an uptight twat and answer the call. I’ve faced off against some of the same folks like you with varying results; big deal. They sought me out, not the other way around; all I did was come in and gave it my all. We’re two sides of the same coin, Atty and we always will be. Our destinies have linked us permanently, so for better or for worse, I have to deal with the fact that you are a darker reflection of myself. All the temptations and selfish desires I fight back every day, you caved into without hesitation. You fucked off from Shawn, from me, and just for the record, you can fuck off from James, too.

Oh yes, I wasn’t going to leave that string hanging; you, James, and I know the truth while everyone has continued with their pessimistic speculations. You’ve fed into the rumors with your impressive manipulated photos and videos; it also doesn’t help that James doesn’t fight the things you say, either. It lends suspicion to an already delicate situation and for some reason, he refuses to cut you out of his circle despite all this bullshit you’ve been spewing. It doesn’t change the fact that James went out of his way to prove his innocence to me; I have in my possession every second of security footage from the time you and James spent alone in that house together. And Atty… You are not the mistress. I know some would say ‘But Betsy, isn’t it possible that they saved those activities for another place and time?’. And to that, I’m giving a firm no and standing by James. His reputation may be against him in some circles; hell, we’ve all seen him do some terrible things in his time in the business. But I will NOT allow him to be vilified for acts he never committed. After two and a half years with someone, you get to know them pretty well; James would never be able to look me in the eye if he had anything to hide from me. So all those lies you’ve spouted about you and James, in your failed attempt to demoralize me and get under my skin… You can fucking choke on every word.

You’ve come after me after you and Shawn broke up by coming after what’s mine; I don’t give a fuck about the Shooting Star Title at this point. If you want it back, come fucking take it from me, your overrated piece of trash. I don’t give a good god damn if I walk out of Leap of Faith with the championship or not, because I’ll be walking away with the most valuable prize of all: James. Try as you like, Atara, but you’ll never have him from me; if he wanted you, he would have taken you any time he wanted. I don’t have him locked up with a ball and chain, the man is free to do as he pleases… Luckily, that happens to be me. Every night, for the rest of our lives. It’s going to take more than another wannabe Venus to come in between what James and I have; more to the point, it’s going to take more than Atara Themis to cause Legacy to crumble.

You and your sister are absolutely NOTHING, Atara; all this effort you’ve made to get into my head have been for not. Women like you would do and say anything to get what you want; women like me will always be right there to knock you back into your place. Maybe Shawn was too soft to do what should have been done during March Madness, but I can assure you wholeheartedly that you won’t be facing that same issue with me come Leap of Faith. In this story, Adonis wisely chose steady, loyal Persephone over the intoxicating, temporary allure of Aphrodite. You seem to think James would have any interest in diving into Shawn’s sloppy seconds when he’s got an Impossible Traveler ready to give him the stars themselves; I promise you he doesn’t. You are his friend and he indulges your thirst over Twitter because of it; you and all the other women who are frequently drooling over his shirtless photos and gifs. I can’t say I blame them, he is a blue-ribbon stud, and guess what Atty.

He’s all mine.

So try your best, try your worst, try everything you can. James, like the Shooting Star Title, is staying with me, come what may. And there isn’t a fucking thing you can do to change that. You think being up on the moon is going to grant you access to the gods you worship; but the truth is, you’ll be in my playground, bitch. The stars, the moon… Space itself is my domain and I’m the one who brought you to it. Or have you forgotten so soon in all your egotistical ranting about being held back in the shadows? It doesn’t matter, because once Leap of Faith comes to a close, you’ll understand why you never had a chance.

See you there, Atty.”

***

Years had passed since that fateful day in Athens, and Medusa had yet to leave the cave to which Athena had banished her. Many had come to slay her at the will of the goddess, but only their rock sculpture remains gave away the fact that there had ever been anyone else there. On this particular day, sitting upon her makeshift throne, a voice in the wind warned her of the arrival of another warrior. Sighing heavily, Medusa slips from her seat and gathers up her weapons; another of Athena’s champions, sent for her head, undoubtedly. Creeping into the shadows, she remains silent as she patiently waits for this newest intruder to make himself known. It isn’t long; footsteps echo off the damp rocks long before the figure appears. The first thing Medusa notices is the resourcefulness of the young man, the way he held his shield before him around corners so that he would catch only her reflection first. She smirks, knowing full well that the tactic would only have a temporary advantage. She takes in the rest of the young man; he’s tall and thin, though with clear muscle definition in his arms and torso. His blonde hair is damp with sweat and clings to his scalp in matted clumps. His curious eyes dart around cautiously, sword held out and ready just in case. A chuckle escaped her lips, bouncing loudly off the rocks and causing the young man to jump.

“Show yourself!”

He calls out in a confident, clear voice that doesn’t match his reaction to her giggles. Rolling her eyes, Medusa remains in the shadows as she replies.

“I don’t think you want me to do that; surely you’ve seen what happens when I appear?”

“Reveal yourself, foul creature, and meet your fate with dignity!”

“Who are you, boy? I always like to know the name of Athena’s newest champion before he meets the same fate as the others.”

She watches with gleeful resentment as his confidence falters for a moment. His eyes sweep the room nervously, once again taking in the many figures of men who had tried before him in his task and failed. Quickly, he straightens up and stiffens his shoulders, tightening his grip on his sword.

“I am Perseus, sent by Athena to claim the head of the hideous hag who dwells in these rocks; I seek the one who betrayed her long ago.”

Years of grief-stricken rage and bitterness consume her as her face contorts into an expression of agony. Memories come back unbidden, and she begins to weep, exhausted suddenly by the self-hatred and loneliness.

“Indeed, it should be you that slays the beast this day, Perseus; take care not to look into my face, lest you share the fate of these hapless fools before you. Take my head to your goddess as patronage and revel in the rewards she would bestow upon you for such success.”

Slowly, her head held carefully down, she retreats from the shadows and reveals herself through the thin light between the rocks. Perseus backs away with a gasp of horror, disgusted by the woman before him. Medusa nods, getting to her knees, her head still hanging low.

“My only request is that you are swift; one strong swing of your sword to end my misery.”

Perseus holds the sword high over his head, prepared to swing when something in her voice stays in his hand. Looking upon the wretched monster before him, pity suddenly sweeps through him; setting down his sword, he kneels in the dirt before her and places a hand on her shoulder.

“How did you end up here?”

The question is spoken softly and unexpectedly that Medusa lets out a startled gasp and looks up. They lock eyes and her heart stops with fear, realizing that she’d just sentenced this stranger to death. But as they continue to stare, nothing happens to him. Confused, Medusa covers her face. Perseus, ever patient, pulls her hands away and continues to look at her steadily.

“How did this happen to you, Medusa? Who did this to you and why?"

“It was Athena after Poseidon betrayed me...”

And as the words tumbled from her lips, Perseus listened with fascination as his intentions began to change with Medusa’s words. Though his loyalties and worship went to Athena, Medusa’s story moved him deeply. Thinking of his journey and hardships, he looks to the woman before him and he begins to see the remains of the beauty she’d once been. Knowing there would be hell to pay, Perseus makes his fateful decision.

“The gods would use us as pawns and throw us away to our fate without another thought. What has happened to you is cruel and unjustified; I find myself compelled to help you. Allow me to spare your life and together, we will take revenge on all those who would wrong us.”

Medusa looks to Perseus in surprise, her naturally green eyes shining through the glowing red for a moment.

“You risk incurring the wrath of your goddess; are you sure this is the path you wish to take?”

“It is the only path I wish to take moving onward; will you journey it with me? Together, we will take our revenge on anyone who would wrong us and take everything the gods would withhold from us.”

Rising to his feet, Perseus looks down at Medusa and holds out his hand to her. She hesitates, fearing that this would be little more than an elaborate trick to lower her guard; after several agonizing moments of indecision, she finally accepts his hand and allows him to pull her gently to her feet. They remain there, hands clasped and locked in a gaze as history begins to reshape all around them… ]]> <![CDATA[Please Bish?]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40936 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:54:53 -0700 Atara Raven]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40936 [Image: ijB6Br0.png]
For those that had paid attention, who weren't so self-absorbed and blind to the world bustling around them, it should have been a familiar scene. Almost exact to one shown just some days prior. Gone however was the lovesome and loose limbed beauty of emerald and gold but instead, in her place, stood a pulchritudinous blue eyed brunette. Supple flesh clearly kissed by Apollo's rays were draped and wrapped with white linen that had been fashioned into the peplos. Unlike the prior, the brown that had been noted at first was meticulously woven atop her head into a laddered and braided bun while any tendrils that might slip were held in place with a golden diadem. Where Betsy had stood as mere effigy, Atara was graven image.

On the surface, the scene set before cameras no doubt seemed a case of one-upmanship, and while Atara could understand that train of thought, expected it even, she was here for more than what artifice would suggest. Atara was Greek through and through and travelling into Turkey wasn't something she did lightly. Given the two countries history, past and present, she held no guilt in saying there was some prejudice that ran deep in her blood. Coming to Turkey required something of her more than just showmanship. There were plenty remains of Aphrodite's places of worship in Greece and her surrounding territories. The Grecian could have done this exact setup at any of them and no one would have been any the wiser. What seemed a simple heap of broken marble, a remnant skeleton of a time gone by, held a deeper meaning to Atara.

Betsy hadn't chosen it on a whim. Clever girl.

The camera didn't find the usual lively and animate face of the Goddess they had once cheered. Instead it framed a dour expression and where once vibrant Aegean blue orbs had perched were eyes dark and tumultuous as raging seas. When lips would part the rasp that escaped did not pour as honey. Gone was it's expected youthful enthusiasm. Sonorous and matronly, it leaked no frivolity or lightheartedness.

"Depth of character," Atara scoffed with a hmph before continuing to no one. "My true colors," she said again puffing air through her nose in disbelief. Turning for the camera, Atara put her back towards the temple and stretched her arms out wide. Palms upward in a display to suggest her surroundings the Grecian simply....shrugged.

"I've painted a pretty clear picture with my true colors Betsy! Since day one, despite all my mishaps, the inconsistency, the vanishing acts, my brush strokes never strayed! Atara exclaimed. Her tone and expression hid none of the exasperation she was feeling.

"Aphrodite Incarnate!"With flushed cheeks she screamed and waved a hand behind her once again emphasizing the temple before continuing her soon to be flash flood of tirade.

"Did you think it was just a nickname? Some silly gimmick I contrived to have an excuse to whip my boobs out on a whim? Just me massaging my vanity? Did I post one thot pic too many or not articulate myself well enough for the genius fucking minds of wrassling to understand me! Did you think me the dull barbie that lacked any substance like everyone else in this business who can't see past their next genitalia joke to have anything remotely resembling a deep effin thought?

Lips pursed tight, Atara shook her head, "No Bets, you're not stupid. You don't get to play the trust card, you don't get to play victim and you definately don't to get stand on THIS SPOT! Defile these grounds! Treat this place, this city devoted to the Goddess I live and breathe like one of you're halfcocked stage parodies. You don't get to feign ignorance.

A finger was aimed at the camera, "Either you are or you aren't Betsy and whatever the case that blame rest squarely on your shoulders. You and everyone else. This was always how it was going to end. Shawn, that ended the way it was always going to end. If you ever thought otherwise, you weren't paying attention like he didn't pay attention.

Aphrodite Incarnate.

Everything she embodies. Every epithet. Every transformation from Ishtar further east. All the way back from this spot, one of the oldest places of religious worship in the world, this spot where they called her Mother Goddess to Aphrodite in Athens, to Venus in Rome where her cult worshiped her as a warrior goddess all the way to the Vatican where they fucking call her Mary Mother of God! Whatever they call her Betsy, I am that made flesh and no man or woman on this Earth will stand above me, they will not fucking cage me! They will not silence me and any that try will ultimately feel my wrath!

There are no exceptions, the cost of hubris intended or not is my cotdamn fist in your cotdamn mouth! That's what brought this on Betsy! That Belt Belongs On My Waist!

I have spoke nothing but the truth about myself since I first walked in these doors. What I want, who I respect. Who can get fucked. I've embraced my flaws infront of these people. I have told these people what I fear most. They have seen my ups and downs and I am nothing but liberal in sharing what I do outside the ring. They know I'm not perfect Betsy and don't I apologize for it. I AM ME.

They know, they see, I am just as much an embodiment of them as am Aphrodite and that's what as endeared this world to my Gods. What separates them...immortality. That's what I am after Betsy. The fame. The adoration. Trascendence through memory or hell, outright divination.

That's why I call myself Goddess! That's why when I told you they were jealous, it was truth. I AM JUST ME and I dont have to weave fanciful tales or exaggerate every single one of my life tragedy's to seem empathetic. To get the attention I want, my name in the spotlight. The TV Shows. The Tournaments. The title shots. It's why I work half as hard to be just as good and the roster can't stand it.

I am what they can't be. What you can't be.

I dont need a magic porter potty. I don't need lycanthropy. I don't need a fucking a army. I don't need to deep dive my opponents history. I just need to show up and be me.

Aphrodite Incarnate. The Goddess. The woman who didn't need your friendship. Doesn't want your friendship. The Better Woman who only wants that belt and for you to kneel....

...and Praise Themis.
]]> [Image: ijB6Br0.png]
For those that had paid attention, who weren't so self-absorbed and blind to the world bustling around them, it should have been a familiar scene. Almost exact to one shown just some days prior. Gone however was the lovesome and loose limbed beauty of emerald and gold but instead, in her place, stood a pulchritudinous blue eyed brunette. Supple flesh clearly kissed by Apollo's rays were draped and wrapped with white linen that had been fashioned into the peplos. Unlike the prior, the brown that had been noted at first was meticulously woven atop her head into a laddered and braided bun while any tendrils that might slip were held in place with a golden diadem. Where Betsy had stood as mere effigy, Atara was graven image.

On the surface, the scene set before cameras no doubt seemed a case of one-upmanship, and while Atara could understand that train of thought, expected it even, she was here for more than what artifice would suggest. Atara was Greek through and through and travelling into Turkey wasn't something she did lightly. Given the two countries history, past and present, she held no guilt in saying there was some prejudice that ran deep in her blood. Coming to Turkey required something of her more than just showmanship. There were plenty remains of Aphrodite's places of worship in Greece and her surrounding territories. The Grecian could have done this exact setup at any of them and no one would have been any the wiser. What seemed a simple heap of broken marble, a remnant skeleton of a time gone by, held a deeper meaning to Atara.

Betsy hadn't chosen it on a whim. Clever girl.

The camera didn't find the usual lively and animate face of the Goddess they had once cheered. Instead it framed a dour expression and where once vibrant Aegean blue orbs had perched were eyes dark and tumultuous as raging seas. When lips would part the rasp that escaped did not pour as honey. Gone was it's expected youthful enthusiasm. Sonorous and matronly, it leaked no frivolity or lightheartedness.

"Depth of character," Atara scoffed with a hmph before continuing to no one. "My true colors," she said again puffing air through her nose in disbelief. Turning for the camera, Atara put her back towards the temple and stretched her arms out wide. Palms upward in a display to suggest her surroundings the Grecian simply....shrugged.

"I've painted a pretty clear picture with my true colors Betsy! Since day one, despite all my mishaps, the inconsistency, the vanishing acts, my brush strokes never strayed! Atara exclaimed. Her tone and expression hid none of the exasperation she was feeling.

"Aphrodite Incarnate!"With flushed cheeks she screamed and waved a hand behind her once again emphasizing the temple before continuing her soon to be flash flood of tirade.

"Did you think it was just a nickname? Some silly gimmick I contrived to have an excuse to whip my boobs out on a whim? Just me massaging my vanity? Did I post one thot pic too many or not articulate myself well enough for the genius fucking minds of wrassling to understand me! Did you think me the dull barbie that lacked any substance like everyone else in this business who can't see past their next genitalia joke to have anything remotely resembling a deep effin thought?

Lips pursed tight, Atara shook her head, "No Bets, you're not stupid. You don't get to play the trust card, you don't get to play victim and you definately don't to get stand on THIS SPOT! Defile these grounds! Treat this place, this city devoted to the Goddess I live and breathe like one of you're halfcocked stage parodies. You don't get to feign ignorance.

A finger was aimed at the camera, "Either you are or you aren't Betsy and whatever the case that blame rest squarely on your shoulders. You and everyone else. This was always how it was going to end. Shawn, that ended the way it was always going to end. If you ever thought otherwise, you weren't paying attention like he didn't pay attention.

Aphrodite Incarnate.

Everything she embodies. Every epithet. Every transformation from Ishtar further east. All the way back from this spot, one of the oldest places of religious worship in the world, this spot where they called her Mother Goddess to Aphrodite in Athens, to Venus in Rome where her cult worshiped her as a warrior goddess all the way to the Vatican where they fucking call her Mary Mother of God! Whatever they call her Betsy, I am that made flesh and no man or woman on this Earth will stand above me, they will not fucking cage me! They will not silence me and any that try will ultimately feel my wrath!

There are no exceptions, the cost of hubris intended or not is my cotdamn fist in your cotdamn mouth! That's what brought this on Betsy! That Belt Belongs On My Waist!

I have spoke nothing but the truth about myself since I first walked in these doors. What I want, who I respect. Who can get fucked. I've embraced my flaws infront of these people. I have told these people what I fear most. They have seen my ups and downs and I am nothing but liberal in sharing what I do outside the ring. They know I'm not perfect Betsy and don't I apologize for it. I AM ME.

They know, they see, I am just as much an embodiment of them as am Aphrodite and that's what as endeared this world to my Gods. What separates them...immortality. That's what I am after Betsy. The fame. The adoration. Trascendence through memory or hell, outright divination.

That's why I call myself Goddess! That's why when I told you they were jealous, it was truth. I AM JUST ME and I dont have to weave fanciful tales or exaggerate every single one of my life tragedy's to seem empathetic. To get the attention I want, my name in the spotlight. The TV Shows. The Tournaments. The title shots. It's why I work half as hard to be just as good and the roster can't stand it.

I am what they can't be. What you can't be.

I dont need a magic porter potty. I don't need lycanthropy. I don't need a fucking a army. I don't need to deep dive my opponents history. I just need to show up and be me.

Aphrodite Incarnate. The Goddess. The woman who didn't need your friendship. Doesn't want your friendship. The Better Woman who only wants that belt and for you to kneel....

...and Praise Themis.
]]> <![CDATA[Second Chance Part 3: Leap of Faith]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40961 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:46:20 -0700 Chris Chaos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40961 [Image: VpBa958.png]
[Image: fQLXDSS.png]

The water was beginning to churn a bit under the new breeze that rolled in off the Gulf. The bay is known for this. Chris twisted his lip at the man hanging below him.

"So tell me again, what is in the briefcase?"

The man was growing a bit frantic now, feeling Chris's grip loosening.

"I already told you! It is my second chance!"

Chris laughed a bit.

"You're gonna have to do better than that."

The man's eyes went wide, and he began to talk a bit louder.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!"

"Shhh........not so loud. Wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea, would we?

The man had a hateful look in his eyes now.

"What I want for you is for you to convince me not to toss you off the biggest fucking bridge in front of all of Pinellas County.".

The man scoffed a bit. Surely he wasn't serious

"So it would go from suicide to homicide, why would you risk that?! There are cops everywhere!"

Chaos smiled at the man.

"Because I don't feel that you actually want to do this. I can make it look like an accident, and I can still play the hero. Sometimes] our favorite heroes are the ones who could just as easy be villains. I feel like this was a cry for help and I am your help. I am going to make you make a decision today.....one that can alter the course of your life forever."

"So you are trying to play god?"

"I am god."

48 hours earlier.

Derrick Preston was leaving the gym, his grey tee covered in a sheen of sweat. It had been a good workout and a much needed stress reliever. His life had been so hectic lately.

He pulled his keys out of his gym bag and clicked the U on them, his car beeped and flashed its lights in the distance.

He always kept his phone in his gym bag. He didn't want any distractions while he was getting his workout in. When he got to his car, he pulled his phone out of his gym bag before stuffing it in his trunk and shutting it.

Getting into the car and taking a last bottle cracking sip of his water, he slid his thumb over the screen and the phone illuminated.

As he pressed the button to start the car he looked down and his expression went from satisfied and relieved to forlorn.

It was an email from his attorney. He also had one from his boss. Along with two text messages from his kids.

His attorney wasn't supposed to email him this soon. He sighed as he clicked
 OPEN.

Apparently the judge denied the plea deal. Florida had very draconian laws in these sort of things that favored the woman heavily.

Even if she was a total monster.

She was threatening to take the kids. Take the house. Take the cars.

All the money he made, all the assets she wanted.

And that she would most likely get.

He had to be in court this week. 9 am. Wednesday.

His attorney said it wasn't going to go well. His affair was highly publicized after his wife caught them red handed and smashed the girls car with an aluminum bat. In the parking lot of his job. In broad day light. At a major trading firm.

Thank god for insurance.

It was a new intern who worked the desk. She was a fresh faced 19 year old. His wife was jealous since day one.......

He told her not the park there.

Women never listen.

Part of him wanted to open a new browser and search for local cheap motels (lord knows he would be living in one soon enough), but he decided to open his other email first.

This one was from his boss. It was equally as grim.

They didn't get the contract.

Apparently his news story, combined with the fact that he had been a little off his game with so much on his mind, has turned off the clients.

The other part of the email mentioned something about company wide layoffs. A performance review meeting. Unemployment benefits. COVID-19.

Pssht. Covid didn't exist in Florida. Didn't he watch the news?

About the only thing the news was good for. FOX news and the Sun Sports, about the only two channels he gave a fuck about.

With a sigh he opened his text app as his expensive car idled under him.


His son: "Miss you dad. Wanna go fishing soon. Scored a touchdown last night, wish you were there. Next time. Love ya."

His daughter: "So......I have been thinking a lot about everything that has been going on. I hate to do this Dad, I do, but I think I want to live with Mom when this is all over. I think it would be better for the both of us. Jake is coming too......"

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him. His relationship with his family had steadily broken down and now it seemed had hit a breaking point. His "wife" was a jealous mess, one kid hated him and one kid pretended he didn't, and financially he hadn't been getting the job done lately.

The house was going to be foreclosed soon, and he had hidden the documents from her.

It had made everyone on edge, especially him.

He went to put his luxury car into drive, then tilted his head. He had another idea.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number in. He waited as he turned on the AC knob.

"Did you take care of that thing we talked about?"
He nodded, the first smile that cracked his lips in months.

"Okay, leave the briefcase in the bushes by the side door. I'll come right now."
He hung up, flinging the car into drive and speeding out of the parking lot, nearly causing a crash.
36 hours ago.

He pulled into his driveway. HIS driveway, since he paid the bills. The briefcase sat under the passenger seat. When he got home, however, a grim sight welcomed him.

All of his stuff was outside. His clothes, his shoes, his jewelry, hell his entire dresser and nightstand. He couldn't help but laugh to himself.

Petty bitch.

She would get hers. Once he reviled what was in this briefcase.......

Without bothering to even give it a second look, he put the car in reverse.

"MOTELS IN PINELLAS COUNTY"

As he drove....many thoughts crossed his mind. His job, or what was left of it. His family, or what was left of it. His future.......

Did he have one?

Money was never usually an issue for him. Now it was. Family always came first, now they wouldn't speak to him.

If only they knew what was inside this briefcase....everything would change.

Why didn't he have the courage to just mention it? Why was the element of surprise, having a one up so important to him?!

Nothing a strong drink couldn't fix.

About 30 minutes later he was swiping the card to get into his room. He poured his drink and took his shirt off.

He fell asleep before he ever got to take a sip.

24 Hours Ago

Derrick awoke in a pool of sweat. He had nightmares all night. He couldn't live with himself, and it was effecting his sleep. He shot up out of bed like a cannon and threw his shoes on. He didn't even bother to check out, he just went straight to his car. Shaking as he shoved his keys into the ignition, he began to drive, heading straight for the skyway bridge. The entire way he was cursing.

Cursing his wife.

Cursing his kids.

His boss, his intern, his car.

Most of all, he was cursing himself

What did he have to live for anymore? He was a failure at all aspects of being a man. Surely nobody would miss him, right?

He glanced over at the brief case.

At least THAT would exonerate him. At least THAT they could remember him for when he was gone.

The sun was rising over the bay, and he decided what he was going to do. Grabbing the briefcase as he pulled over, slowing down to a stop, he shut his door so far that he swore his mirror may fall off.

Who cares? Wasn't like he was going to use that mirror again anyway. Or any mirror for that matter.

He stepped over the barricade and through the fencing that separates the abyss from the highway, and sat down. Setting the briefcase next to him, he began to edge towards the drop.

Passerby's in their cars, surely heading to or from work, would see this. Surely they would call the cops.

Good, let them call.

As he looked down over the water, the picture of his kids crossed his mind. He was waffling.

God, he even was a failure at killing himself.

PRESENT MOMENT:

Chaos grinned at the man he was holding on to. The man's entire body hung vertically of the bridge, held in place by his wrist and the strong forearm of the strange blonde man he had never met that was wearing, in his opinion, a very fashionable dress shirt.

"I'm going to the moon tomorrow"

Derrick was puzzled by this. Was the man who was attempting to "save" him actually a loon? The moon? Was he on drugs?

Chris looked down at the water.

"Have you ever wondered what having no gravity feels like? If you could just float around with no repercussions? What it feels like to be lighter than air itself?"

"No....I've never wondered that!" there was a bit more of a frantic tone in Derrick's voice than before now.

"You have made your decision, that is why you are here....is it not? You wanted to do this, but it was your hesitation that stopped you. That last little bit of humanity you had left. Your soul, your conscience. You have your entire life hanging in this briefcase.....and you chose to throw it all away instead of using it to your advantage.....why?

Derrick was agitated now.

"What is this, a therapy session?! We're hanging off a fucking bridge and you want to go Socrates on me?!"

"You're the one hanging off the bridge, Derrick. I am the one holding your life and potential death in my hands. Why? Because I was just like you once. I didn't know what I wanted or who I was. I didn't know where I was going. I let the human in me make the decisions. Now.....I have a briefcase too. Yes. And in that briefcase is my second chance also. But I have to make a decision. Do I want to go get it or let it pass me by? Will I get it? Who knows....but you know what...I'll never know unless I try. And try like hell. It will make me better in the end knowing that I went into a situation with an uncertain outcome and came out of it knowing exactly who it was I truly am......"

"A fucking lunatic?!"

"Perhaps. I prefer machine. Heartless. Cold. Zero remorse. I go into a situation where I don't know if I am going to live or die.....I don't know and for the first time in my life....I am okay with that......."

Derrick looked into Chris's eyes.

"You know what. You're right. It will all be fine, no matter what happens. I always land on my feet. I am Derrick fucking Preston!"

"Atta boy!

"I don't wanna do this anymore......I don't wanna end it all........help me up. Come on, I'll buy ya a beer."

Chaos began to laugh. This took Derrick aback a bit.

"Do you think it will hurt, Derrick fucking Preston?"

His eyes went wide for what felt like the 100th time.

"Will WHAT hurt?"

"Hitting the water from this height. Surely it has to feel like concrete......"

Derrick began to panic now, wiggling to get away from the deranged man holding his wrist in a vice grip.

"You never know until you know. Your odds are 50/50, and those odds are pretty good!"

Derrick continued wiggling, but Chaos had him locked in tight.

"Do you trust me?"

"HELL NO I DON'T TRUST YOU! I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU!"

Chaos laughed again, muttering to himself that Derrick would probably trust him less if he DID know him.

"Consider this your Leap of Faith Derrick, and I hope you find what it is your looking sure....because I have surely found mine........."

Chris let go of the mans arm, sending him plunging towards the Bay. All that wiggling, it made him look as though he was TRYING to get away.

In a sense, he was.

Derrick hit the water as emergency crews began to signal for the helicopter and boats. Chris stared at him all the way until he hit the water with a thunderous splash.

Standing up and wiping off his knees from the cement, he walked over and grabbed the briefcase. He handed it to Theo, who had appeared by his side.

The cops who he initially told that the man on the bridge was his cousin came running over.

"YOU JUST LET YOUR COUSIN FALL OVER 200 FEET FROM THE BRIDGE!"

"Cousin?" Chris said.

"I didn't know that guy.......

He walked with Theo to the car and threw the briefcase into the back seat. He didn't even open it, he didn't have to.

He now had someone else's second chance in his his possession........

and he was taking it to the moon............

and beyond.

TO

BE

CONTINUED]]> [Image: VpBa958.png]
[Image: fQLXDSS.png]

The water was beginning to churn a bit under the new breeze that rolled in off the Gulf. The bay is known for this. Chris twisted his lip at the man hanging below him.

"So tell me again, what is in the briefcase?"

The man was growing a bit frantic now, feeling Chris's grip loosening.

"I already told you! It is my second chance!"

Chris laughed a bit.

"You're gonna have to do better than that."

The man's eyes went wide, and he began to talk a bit louder.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!"

"Shhh........not so loud. Wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea, would we?

The man had a hateful look in his eyes now.

"What I want for you is for you to convince me not to toss you off the biggest fucking bridge in front of all of Pinellas County.".

The man scoffed a bit. Surely he wasn't serious

"So it would go from suicide to homicide, why would you risk that?! There are cops everywhere!"

Chaos smiled at the man.

"Because I don't feel that you actually want to do this. I can make it look like an accident, and I can still play the hero. Sometimes] our favorite heroes are the ones who could just as easy be villains. I feel like this was a cry for help and I am your help. I am going to make you make a decision today.....one that can alter the course of your life forever."

"So you are trying to play god?"

"I am god."

48 hours earlier.

Derrick Preston was leaving the gym, his grey tee covered in a sheen of sweat. It had been a good workout and a much needed stress reliever. His life had been so hectic lately.

He pulled his keys out of his gym bag and clicked the U on them, his car beeped and flashed its lights in the distance.

He always kept his phone in his gym bag. He didn't want any distractions while he was getting his workout in. When he got to his car, he pulled his phone out of his gym bag before stuffing it in his trunk and shutting it.

Getting into the car and taking a last bottle cracking sip of his water, he slid his thumb over the screen and the phone illuminated.

As he pressed the button to start the car he looked down and his expression went from satisfied and relieved to forlorn.

It was an email from his attorney. He also had one from his boss. Along with two text messages from his kids.

His attorney wasn't supposed to email him this soon. He sighed as he clicked
 OPEN.

Apparently the judge denied the plea deal. Florida had very draconian laws in these sort of things that favored the woman heavily.

Even if she was a total monster.

She was threatening to take the kids. Take the house. Take the cars.

All the money he made, all the assets she wanted.

And that she would most likely get.

He had to be in court this week. 9 am. Wednesday.

His attorney said it wasn't going to go well. His affair was highly publicized after his wife caught them red handed and smashed the girls car with an aluminum bat. In the parking lot of his job. In broad day light. At a major trading firm.

Thank god for insurance.

It was a new intern who worked the desk. She was a fresh faced 19 year old. His wife was jealous since day one.......

He told her not the park there.

Women never listen.

Part of him wanted to open a new browser and search for local cheap motels (lord knows he would be living in one soon enough), but he decided to open his other email first.

This one was from his boss. It was equally as grim.

They didn't get the contract.

Apparently his news story, combined with the fact that he had been a little off his game with so much on his mind, has turned off the clients.

The other part of the email mentioned something about company wide layoffs. A performance review meeting. Unemployment benefits. COVID-19.

Pssht. Covid didn't exist in Florida. Didn't he watch the news?

About the only thing the news was good for. FOX news and the Sun Sports, about the only two channels he gave a fuck about.

With a sigh he opened his text app as his expensive car idled under him.


His son: "Miss you dad. Wanna go fishing soon. Scored a touchdown last night, wish you were there. Next time. Love ya."

His daughter: "So......I have been thinking a lot about everything that has been going on. I hate to do this Dad, I do, but I think I want to live with Mom when this is all over. I think it would be better for the both of us. Jake is coming too......"

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him. His relationship with his family had steadily broken down and now it seemed had hit a breaking point. His "wife" was a jealous mess, one kid hated him and one kid pretended he didn't, and financially he hadn't been getting the job done lately.

The house was going to be foreclosed soon, and he had hidden the documents from her.

It had made everyone on edge, especially him.

He went to put his luxury car into drive, then tilted his head. He had another idea.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number in. He waited as he turned on the AC knob.

"Did you take care of that thing we talked about?"
He nodded, the first smile that cracked his lips in months.

"Okay, leave the briefcase in the bushes by the side door. I'll come right now."
He hung up, flinging the car into drive and speeding out of the parking lot, nearly causing a crash.
36 hours ago.

He pulled into his driveway. HIS driveway, since he paid the bills. The briefcase sat under the passenger seat. When he got home, however, a grim sight welcomed him.

All of his stuff was outside. His clothes, his shoes, his jewelry, hell his entire dresser and nightstand. He couldn't help but laugh to himself.

Petty bitch.

She would get hers. Once he reviled what was in this briefcase.......

Without bothering to even give it a second look, he put the car in reverse.

"MOTELS IN PINELLAS COUNTY"

As he drove....many thoughts crossed his mind. His job, or what was left of it. His family, or what was left of it. His future.......

Did he have one?

Money was never usually an issue for him. Now it was. Family always came first, now they wouldn't speak to him.

If only they knew what was inside this briefcase....everything would change.

Why didn't he have the courage to just mention it? Why was the element of surprise, having a one up so important to him?!

Nothing a strong drink couldn't fix.

About 30 minutes later he was swiping the card to get into his room. He poured his drink and took his shirt off.

He fell asleep before he ever got to take a sip.

24 Hours Ago

Derrick awoke in a pool of sweat. He had nightmares all night. He couldn't live with himself, and it was effecting his sleep. He shot up out of bed like a cannon and threw his shoes on. He didn't even bother to check out, he just went straight to his car. Shaking as he shoved his keys into the ignition, he began to drive, heading straight for the skyway bridge. The entire way he was cursing.

Cursing his wife.

Cursing his kids.

His boss, his intern, his car.

Most of all, he was cursing himself

What did he have to live for anymore? He was a failure at all aspects of being a man. Surely nobody would miss him, right?

He glanced over at the brief case.

At least THAT would exonerate him. At least THAT they could remember him for when he was gone.

The sun was rising over the bay, and he decided what he was going to do. Grabbing the briefcase as he pulled over, slowing down to a stop, he shut his door so far that he swore his mirror may fall off.

Who cares? Wasn't like he was going to use that mirror again anyway. Or any mirror for that matter.

He stepped over the barricade and through the fencing that separates the abyss from the highway, and sat down. Setting the briefcase next to him, he began to edge towards the drop.

Passerby's in their cars, surely heading to or from work, would see this. Surely they would call the cops.

Good, let them call.

As he looked down over the water, the picture of his kids crossed his mind. He was waffling.

God, he even was a failure at killing himself.

PRESENT MOMENT:

Chaos grinned at the man he was holding on to. The man's entire body hung vertically of the bridge, held in place by his wrist and the strong forearm of the strange blonde man he had never met that was wearing, in his opinion, a very fashionable dress shirt.

"I'm going to the moon tomorrow"

Derrick was puzzled by this. Was the man who was attempting to "save" him actually a loon? The moon? Was he on drugs?

Chris looked down at the water.

"Have you ever wondered what having no gravity feels like? If you could just float around with no repercussions? What it feels like to be lighter than air itself?"

"No....I've never wondered that!" there was a bit more of a frantic tone in Derrick's voice than before now.

"You have made your decision, that is why you are here....is it not? You wanted to do this, but it was your hesitation that stopped you. That last little bit of humanity you had left. Your soul, your conscience. You have your entire life hanging in this briefcase.....and you chose to throw it all away instead of using it to your advantage.....why?

Derrick was agitated now.

"What is this, a therapy session?! We're hanging off a fucking bridge and you want to go Socrates on me?!"

"You're the one hanging off the bridge, Derrick. I am the one holding your life and potential death in my hands. Why? Because I was just like you once. I didn't know what I wanted or who I was. I didn't know where I was going. I let the human in me make the decisions. Now.....I have a briefcase too. Yes. And in that briefcase is my second chance also. But I have to make a decision. Do I want to go get it or let it pass me by? Will I get it? Who knows....but you know what...I'll never know unless I try. And try like hell. It will make me better in the end knowing that I went into a situation with an uncertain outcome and came out of it knowing exactly who it was I truly am......"

"A fucking lunatic?!"

"Perhaps. I prefer machine. Heartless. Cold. Zero remorse. I go into a situation where I don't know if I am going to live or die.....I don't know and for the first time in my life....I am okay with that......."

Derrick looked into Chris's eyes.

"You know what. You're right. It will all be fine, no matter what happens. I always land on my feet. I am Derrick fucking Preston!"

"Atta boy!

"I don't wanna do this anymore......I don't wanna end it all........help me up. Come on, I'll buy ya a beer."

Chaos began to laugh. This took Derrick aback a bit.

"Do you think it will hurt, Derrick fucking Preston?"

His eyes went wide for what felt like the 100th time.

"Will WHAT hurt?"

"Hitting the water from this height. Surely it has to feel like concrete......"

Derrick began to panic now, wiggling to get away from the deranged man holding his wrist in a vice grip.

"You never know until you know. Your odds are 50/50, and those odds are pretty good!"

Derrick continued wiggling, but Chaos had him locked in tight.

"Do you trust me?"

"HELL NO I DON'T TRUST YOU! I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU!"

Chaos laughed again, muttering to himself that Derrick would probably trust him less if he DID know him.

"Consider this your Leap of Faith Derrick, and I hope you find what it is your looking sure....because I have surely found mine........."

Chris let go of the mans arm, sending him plunging towards the Bay. All that wiggling, it made him look as though he was TRYING to get away.

In a sense, he was.

Derrick hit the water as emergency crews began to signal for the helicopter and boats. Chris stared at him all the way until he hit the water with a thunderous splash.

Standing up and wiping off his knees from the cement, he walked over and grabbed the briefcase. He handed it to Theo, who had appeared by his side.

The cops who he initially told that the man on the bridge was his cousin came running over.

"YOU JUST LET YOUR COUSIN FALL OVER 200 FEET FROM THE BRIDGE!"

"Cousin?" Chris said.

"I didn't know that guy.......

He walked with Theo to the car and threw the briefcase into the back seat. He didn't even open it, he didn't have to.

He now had someone else's second chance in his his possession........

and he was taking it to the moon............

and beyond.

TO

BE

CONTINUED]]> <![CDATA[The Magic Bullet]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40960 Sat, 29 May 2021 23:01:21 -0700 JimCaedus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40960 =======€@£|)Ų$=======






















CAEDUS REWIND: When last we left Caedus, his easy way out of the asylum in Doc Brown had vanished, a casualty of corrected timeline, forcing Jim to face the fact that he can't take back what was done. Now truly trapped, Jim has a two choices: conquer...or submit.






(continued from "Return Fire")

---3 Months Later---
September 2019












I guess what I'm tryin' ta say is, if yuh haven't gotten head from a fat girl then yuh haven't met my wife. Huh. The therapy circle laughs.

Has it ever occurred to you, Mr. Hardy, that perhaps you're simply just insecure and lacking of the trust necessary to maintain a strong and meaningful relationship?

Gee that hadn't occurred to me, no. I see it now! I'm cured! Huh. What's that got tuh do with my wife bein' a whoore?

Rolling her eyes, Nurse Ratched turns her attention to Jim with the cold gaze of one who didn't honestly get her world rocked by the man in the broom closet 3 months ago. Yep, hate fuck. Damn she's good. What about you, James? It's been three months and you still haven't even attempted to share with us all what it is that truly has you in here.

There ain't nothin' wrong with you.

Staring out the window, the exuberance and incorrigible attitude long gone. ...None 'a you would understand.

I disagree. There are a lot of men with a lot of problems on this ward. Are you so certain yours are unique enough that no one can relate? Do you honestly believe it isn't anything I haven't heard before in here?

Ok, I don't understand, how's that? I ain't done a goddamn thing wrong since June, I've shown myself to be cooperative and peaceful yet I'm still here. Why.

I told you before if we can't identify your problem, why would we ever let you out? What's to prevent the same thing you did to land yourself in the hospital in the first place from happening again? How can you be trusted?

You're a good person. There's nothing wrong with you and you DID nothing wrong. It's everyone else, not you.

Because I say I can be. I'm a good person and I'm not a danger to anyone. I know who the fuck I am.

Do you.

She just called you a liar!

Are you callin' me a liar!?

I'm questioning if you really do have the self awareness to proclaim yourself cured and ready to return to society.

She's calling you STUPID!

Stands, back-kicking his chair out from under him. WHAT!? You callin' me a fuckin' idiot!?

Sit down Mr. O'Connor or so help me...

She's callin' you a PUSSY!

Flinching in cranial pain. Or WHAT!? You'll kick my ass?? Well BRING it bitch, I've been waitin' for the continuation to our last encounter! And I ain't talkin' about fuckin' you into leg shakin' submission either!

Standing, eyes flashing with anger. SIT DOWN!

DON'T DO IT!

Nearly crumbles to the floor. MAKE me BITCH!

Rage. That's IT!

Before Jim can react, he receives a knockout blow spiralling him into oblivion...





Waking in darkness.

Jim stands to find himself alone in the void.

A flash of light...

...and we've officially entered a frontrunner for cliché self discovery/personal struggle scenarios as Jim faces...Jim.

Yep.

The universe groans.

Aw fuck me...not ME. I'll never be able to target someone usin' this concept as ammo for future shit talkin' anymore- DIE, RATCHED!

Yeah that's right motherfucker, me. And if I was the one writin' this shit I woulda come up with somethin' amazing and halfway UNIQUE but nooooooo, it has to be YOUR fuckin' show! The weakass lovey dovey heart on 'is sleeve "GOTTA please EVERYONE" sack of unfunny not good enough douchebag BULLSHIT schmuck! I've been wantin' to kick your ass since you DUMPED me for those gayrods in Ax3! I figured since gettin' my hands on you personally was impossible, go figure, I'd do what I could to push you to the dark Caedus that dominated. The glory days when it was just me and YOU. Y'know, like how it's been for most of our fuckin' LIFE!?

Glory days? GLORY DAYS!? You ROBBED me of who I was the moment you came inta MY life- not ours, MINE! I was a straight A fuckin' student!

You were a nerd somehow dumb enough to believe education mattered. It was cooler to get faded, fuck chicks and half-ass every AP class, you know that!

I was a child actor with the talent and the look to become a star!

Are you fuckin' !? You were a fuckin' background actor! What the HELL makes you think you could ever break in as an EXTRA!?

I was an athlete who inspired thunder from the stands!!

Are you fuckin' !? Again!? You're FIVE FUCKING NINE ASSHOLE!! You can run as fast as the wind and bulk up all you want but you could NEVER play in the NBA or the NFL so what's the fucking POINT!? Shit, you even suck as a wrestler, you couldn't even keep the XWF Universal Title!!

I used to EXCEL at EVERYTHING I did!

You're a LOSER without ME!

You MAKE me a LOSER!

I'M the reason behind your greatest SUCCESS here DUMBASS!

NO! YOU'RE the reason I failed to MAINTAIN that success! You've done that to me my ENTIRE life!!

You did it to yourself.

Epiphany. ...what?

You did it to yourself. I may have sown the seeds of doubt but you're the one who refused to do anything other than believe it and give up. You complain about what's happened in your life, it's ALL. YOUR. FAULT. You don't have the strength to do this on your own, I had to take you by the reigns. If I HADN'T, you never would've attained what success you HAVE. And now, it's too late. You'll never be able to get rid 'a me. Be grateful. Without me you would've been nothin'.

No. It's over.

Fuck you talkin' about.

I'm not livin' like this anymore. I kept me away from success, I kept me in the minor leagues when I could've stopped hopin' for a chance in a promotion like the XWF and just taken my place. I could've maintained my friendships and relationships, and even though they may have ended it would have been parting on good terms not a clusterfuck of emotion. I could've been somebody more than I am now. And I'm not gonna let me stop me anymore.

Laughs. How do you propose to do that?

By killing YOU.

Laughs. How do you propose to do THAT!? Five flashes of light. I've got BACKUP!

Five figures stride forward.










[Image: jc3Yt71.jpg]
Cowardice.





[Image: UDSnJpQ.jpg]
Utter fucking stupidity in Ignorance.






[Image: VYJtWF9.png]
Complacency.







[Image: AOSvFXr.jpg]
Arrogance. And in 3-D because...well, ego.







[Image: s3tYGfe.png]
And fear in self doubt.

I recognize Christy...and that one looks like Doc just all ashy and crunchy like he should add a K...but the other three, I don't get it. Never seen 'em before. Buzzes the lens.

Whats it matter? You know damn well ain't no way you can take us all on by yourself.

Wrong. Myself is all I ever needed.

Five more flashes of light.

Allow me to introduce my strengths...








































[Image: G2lQJys.jpg]
Courage, Awareness, Dedication, Humility and Self Confidence.

They all remove their helmets...5 more Jims. Like we didn't see that coming.

All in unison: 'Sup.

::growls:: Of fuckin' course... KILL 'EM AAAAAAAAALL!!


The 10 soldiers come together en masse in a conflict of epic proportions, somehow perfectly matching up as appropriate.

Awareness immediately Purgatory Punches Utter fucking stupidity through Ignorance's head clean off.

Courage rockets a Wrexus Plexus through the chest of Cowardice, sending his tiny heart flying.

Ignorance, though headless, continues to fight albeit swinging aimlessly and missing every blow.

Cowardice shoves his heart back in his chest gape and advances on Courage.

Courage and Awareness exchange glances, produce AK-47s and unload with their ammunition. Facts burst forth and pepper both Cowardice and Ignorance into meaty chunks of STILL angrily pulsating meat. Courage and Awareness shake then piss on the remains.

Meanwhile, Dedication has beaten Complacency with his bare hands into a mass of broken bones, flesh and oddly translucent liquid...because, well, Complacency had no heart to begin with and therefore his veins coursed with running waters.

Humility waits patiently, quietly, as a shrieking Arrogance keeps a slight distance flinging charged tarot cards like he thinks he's Gambit or someone else capable. When he's run out of ammunition, and missed every fucking shot, Arrogance asks Humility to just stand still as he shoots forward in a mad dash-

-falling directly into legit the most obvious pitfall ever devised. He screams something along the lines of "This is BULLSHIT! I NEVER lose! I demand to speak to-" before his mouth is suddenly and rudely invaded by one of the wicked spikes at the bottom, skewering Arrogance straight through and popping out his surprisingly puckered asshole.

But ALL is not well in the battle as Fear in Self Doubt decides floating high above Self Confidence and dropping yoga flames is the way to go and for all appearances it would seem he's correct.

Until Self Confidence magically POOFS to mid air alongside Fear and latches on, somersaults and zooms down to the "ground" at the speed of the light, sending up a massive explosion on impact. As the blast dissipates, we see Self Confidence and Fear in Self Doubt grappling at the base of the crater, it appears a stalemate at best...but Fear looks to be changing that in short order.

Overpowering Self Confidence, Self Doubt executes a LOBOTOMY!!!


Extreme glee. Ha! Ha ha ha! Ahahahahahahahaahahaaaaaaaaa! It's OVER you gayish little pussy! Now Fear in Self Doubt and I will murder YOU...and we'll take over your fuckin' mind and morph your outward appearance or some other horseshit like that and get into aaaaaaaall SORTS of stupidass antics!

I wouldn't be so sure...


As Fear in Self Doubt turns to walk away, the hand of Self Confidence catches him by the elbow. Fear's eyes widen as he twists to regard Self Confidence-

-receiving a Point Blank for his trouble, a knee to the gut and-


-KATABASIS!!!!!!!

Fear in Self Doubt's neck snaps on impact and he lies still.


No! ...NO! ......NOOOOOOOO!! HOW!?

Self Confidence is the hinge to a better life and success.

Enraged. FUCK Self Confidence!! You still have to take ME down and that's a feat you've NEVER accomplished!! And guess what...I have THIS! Jim's Invasive Thoughts pulls a glowing golden nugget on a chain* free from his baggy blue Dickies shorts pocket.

(*An artifact Jim discovered way back in 2017 right before the Leap of Faith, it grants him the power of two Caedae in battle. Sweet, huh?)

So fuckin' what. I don't need it anymore. Courage starts to glow. I don't need to keep relyin' on an exterior crutch. I have my own inner strength. Awareness starts to glow. I've done without it for years and I ain't gonna stop now that I've discovered the well of my power. Dedication lights up. Even if I were to prove not strong enough, I would rather fall in defeat as who I really am than play dirty and advance to the heights I clearly wouldn't deserve. Humility sparks to life. But I have the utmost confidence in my abilities to see me through to victory. Self Confidence illuminates the entire playing field, casting dark into light. Jim HIMSELF begins to glow.

No! This isn't POSSIBLE! You CAN'T! The strength of FIVE CAEDAE!?

Six. I'm Jim Caedus. Bitch.

Jim unleashes a stream of pure power at his foe.

FUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!

And Jim's Invasive Thoughts detonate like the 4th of July.

At once, Courage, Self Confidence, Awareness, Dedication and Humility wink out and Jim's glowing subsides, leaving him once more in the darkness.

A flash of light. Excellent job James. I'm proud of you, very very proud. Now...can you defeat me?

Jim's fists raise. I know who you are. The poofing, the unbelievable strength, the powers...you're Doc. That golem of Fear in Self Doubt may have looked like Doc but Doc could never be taken down quite so easily. It's been you the whole time in this asylum. And you know what that means? I fucked you Doc. Fucked you long and hard. Now I'm gonna fuck you UP.

That won't be necessary...

Doctor Dunnem flashes in.

You again with the Doc voice. Enough with the Doc voice dipshit, I already know he's Nurse Ratched.

Doctor Dunnem suddenly engulfs in flames, revealing the one and only Doctor Louis D'Ville in his place. Is she now.

Awwwwwww maaaaaaaaan. What the FUCK Doc?? What's all this about??Who the fuck is SHE??

Regarding Ratched. Merely a construct of mine. A drone, granted limited powers similar to my own. You may go my dear. Ratched vanishes. And you... Looking to Jim.You are free to leave as well Jim. You have nothing more to learn...and neither do I.

The fuck you talkin' 'bout neither do you, Doc?

That is none of your concern. Suffice to say I was asked to evaluate you. You've been evaluated. You've proven yourself innocent of the charges, I will pass that along. Like I said, you may go now.

K, cool. Staring into space. Open sesameeee. ...Ain't workin' Doc. HOW DO I LEAVE? I don't even know where the FUCK I really am!

We are in your mind naturally, I thought you'd figured that out earlier. As for your physical location, you've been residing in the asylum adjoining Mastermind Castle for the better part of a year.

The setting suddenly flashes white.

Waking strapped to an operating table, Doc peering down at him. Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck!! Lemme loose!!

One last thing... Doc knives his hand down into Jim's head, the physical properties of his limb turning incorporeal. All Jim can see however is Doc punching at him so he yelps-

-right before Doc pulls his hand free, solidifying, clutching a misshapen dark lump which he drops into a jar.

Observing the lump in the jar. Fascinating.

The hell did you just do?

I removed a tumor in your brain. It was exacerbating the issues you've been having...and it was killing you.

Jesus Christ...

That holier than thou hippy has nothing to do with it.

No I mean, Jesus Christ, THE Doc D'Ville just saved my life!

Staring at the lump. I wouldn't think too far into it Jim.

Fuckin' AWESOME! Doc FUCKIN' D'Ville laid hands on me and saved me! I can't wait to tell- A single finger to the third eye stops Jim in mid sentence.

I'm afraid you won't be telling anyone. This will remain our little secret. In fact, until I lift this veil, you will neither hear nor see anything regarding these events until I decide the time is appropriate. Removes his finger.

Blankly blinking. Noticing Doc. Starting in shock. What the FUCK!? DOC!!

Smiles and winks. Toodles.

In a flash Jim vanishes, transported away to his life back in California.

I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again...in time.





(To be continued in the next cycle)

**********************************





"The Magic Bullet"





---Vague, PY (Purgatory)---
"Land of the Rising Gun"


"Floating" ('cause Purgatory is zero G, wheeeeeee!!). Corey...I love you ?. No, really. I mean yeah, I hate your guts too and request you'd grab your ankles in front of an oncoming bullet train so we can all watch a fruit splatter like front row Gallagher but I love you all the same and guarantee I'd pour out a lil' liquor at the closed casket. It's crazy, I know. But I'll touch on that later.

K, it's later. Whorey Pith, you waste far too much time- that being any at all -commentin' on me bein' crazy with your hook line 'n stinkers. I came into this promotion crazy, I own bein' crazy, the current handle is Psycho Number Six The White Knight; which you clearly noticed and referenced yet for some reason still thought callin' a nut a nut is a cut. Sweetheart, the name Jim Caedus is an anagram for Mad Juices, I make my livin' off crazy and O izzit ever so orgasmic to be me. That's why I get so sexual with it...'cause this shit makes me harder than first-time stiff. And hoooolyyyyy STIFF have I got a woody to plank the great golden boy Gatekeeper 'a the XWF.

Just as an appetizer however, nice work goin' on record to say I'm still in the hospital with the SSRI bit. You were able to see in my first promo I was remanded into their custody by the courts in 2019 to determine if I was criminally and/or violently insane and obviously, I'm now free. Whadja think me bein' back in the XWF amounted to, psycho work release? Clearly, defining an über intelligent wunderkind doesn't include common sense. Ain't that just typical 'a the book smart youth like you; you can parrot what you pick up on social media, the news or assigned readin' from a textbook, you can wail all day on politics, fling trendy terminology with ease and quote fine literature but when it comes to real life, by and large you don't know shit. No wonder it was so easy to sneak in under your radar and snatch that case on Warfare, you literally don't know where I'm comin' from. How you gonna keep track 'a me in the match muffin? It ain't lookin' good for you so far...

I mean, you make it "all too easy" Panickin' Skywalker Guystalker. You can chalk it up to youngster dumbassery but all the same, you about to get Kenobi'd and I don't think even Thadly's gonna be voice crackin' a NOOOO!!.

?......you legit don't even know what I'm prattling on about, do you.

Corey my first promo was so chock fulla trappy goodness I essentially rolled out the red minefield and sat waitin' for someone to trip somethin'. What you gave me was the time 'a my life watchin' you get ping ponged from trigger to trigger like follow the bouncing bomb just off the bait I left in Open Fire.

You honestly tripped every. Single. Trap.

I knew aimin' at your swollen ego would get you to personally prove my point on your arrogance and lack of humility. All I had to do was drop a couple lines criticizin' you for Coreytopia and you literally wasted a good deal of your spiel squealin' about it ON TOP of failing to absorb that I said: Centurion nails you on arrogance and your first thought is to brag about charity. You cemented that by, well, braggin' about charity, goin' so far as to say "God damn what a place the XWF is! You try to do something nice for people, ask nothing in return, and get branded an asshole for it. Says more about you soulless pricks than it does about me." That's right, attack us en masse for the comments of a few. How heroic and even-keeled, Corey, and I'm the psycho here. You're right though, you don't "ask nothin' in return", you EXPECT somethin' in return. You expect praise and respect and if that weren't the case, you wouldn't feel the need to bitch about the criticism, you'd let it roll off your back and you wouldn't advertise and exploit for attention like allowing Coreytopia to be booked as the venue for a PPV event starrin' the ever egotistical Boy Fuck Club and Dolly. Familiar at all with the scripture 'a the widow's mite? Doesn't matter.

I love, by the way, that you retort to me sayin' the name Coreytopia makes you look like an arrogant tool with "and fuck you, Dolly came up with the name and I LOVE IT!". Yeah, I know you love the name Coreytopia, Corey. We [size=large]ALL[/large] know Corey loves the name Coreytopia, COREY. BeCorese all is Corey Corepletely and Corey Coretrols planet Corth from Corust to Core, CorCorey. CoreyCor Corey Cor Cor? Coooreyyyyy COR! Corey Cor CorCoCor......

COOOOOORRRREYYYYYYYYYY

Floating nearby, clutching his head in agony. Jim not again!

Yeah man, please, NO CORE! I mean- !

Oh God you've got Bob doin' it now!

Panicking. I'm Corey, I- I mean I'm COREY! Goddammit, I mean I'm SOREY! I Corn't stop Cor Coreying Cor COR COREY COREYCOR COREY COREY COREY COREY COREY COREY COREY-

Hands to ears. He's stuck in an infinite Coreyloop!

-OREY COREY COREY CO-

I'll hit him in the head with this bottle!

Eyes widen. COREY!! COREY COREY CO-

Are you sure Jim? Because I HAVE a bottle. Holds up an unopened Dewers.

Oh man I love De- Hey... Hey that's MY bottle! What the FUCK Drew!?

What's more important Bob? A bottle of whiskey or cracking Jimmy in the head with it?

DON'T DO THAT! Look, he's fighting it!

Struggling to regain his counterCoreyactive batshit. COREY COREY COR- ...COR-... C- Corrreyyym the master of all I surveeeey. In this, the land of tattered dreams and the wailing of lost souls felled in battle against the subconscious malevolence of the sun. Here...here shall I plant my flag in the very eye of the storm. Come to me my Warriors, grab a body part and cling for dear life as we ascend to the heavens for waaaar. In my veins pumps the blood of the Warriooooor. In your veins pumps the blood of the Warrioooor. And together, we Warriors shall conquer...our...fooooooooooes. ::Warrior snort:: Hey, I did it! The bottle shatters against Jim's head. FUCK! Jim begins to float away.

Unintentionally floating backward due to tossing the bottle in zero G. Woooooooooorth iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Damn you Drew! Breast-stroking after him.

More or less unhurt, shaking fist. You're lucky I got a head that can drive nails Drew! Looks to the lens as the all-seeing XWF drone floats along with him.

Anyway, enough with the antics, back to what I was sayin' about the first trap you tripped...

The main point 'a that pitfall was this:

What the fuck does Coreytopia have anything to do with the Leap of Faith match? You do realize we only get 3 chances in the promo cycle to wear everyone else out mentally and you focused on somethin' completely irrelevant and wasted limited airtime right? You know why? Your overabundance of narcissism. I'll strike with and respond to anything I can tie into psychological assault and exploiting weaknesses that logically translate to me capitalizin' in combat but you, you'll clap-back just to fold over and suck your own dick and condemn anyone havin' the gall to say somethin' neg about you personally. Is anyone bein' a prick gonna prevent him or her from successfully competin' here? It don't stop Chris Page or Ned Kaye, so what the fuck does it matter?

It doesn't. And here's the rundown...

Counting off with his fingers. I got you to go postal over nothin', prove my point AND surrender a chunk 'a your tirade towards me. You're an immature, incompetent child, Corey, and you been tricked by a growns up you perceive is of lower intelligence. How you gonna keep up with me mentally in the match if it's SO. GOD. DAMN. EASY to get over on you in promo alone? It's lookin' a lot less likely.

What say we dig a little deeper...

...and highlight further how effortless it is to get in your head. This one shocks me because I didn't even dress it up, it was as blatant as it can get, to the point I didn't believe you'd fall for it all...but you did. And all it took was sayin' you're thoroughly disliked to a backroom dealings degree.

"Hey Jim, just who am I “thoroughly disliked by”? The B.O.B.ies? Oh hunty, I assure you I’m crying on the inside! Main? Well of course, he hates anything remotely resembling valid competition. Theo? I couldn’t rub two shits together. So long as the checks keep clearing. And for as much as Theo may dislike me he’s a savvy enough businessman to realize you don’t hobble one of your prize thoroughbreds."

Did we lose some sleep over that one as I stated you should? Sounds like it. Despite your claims that you couldn't give a shit you very much do seein' as you felt the need, again, to irrelevantly defend yourself. Point in fact, that comment bothered you so much you accused Theo Pryce of talkin' shit about you to ME.

Theo Pryce.

One among The Kings who helped DESTROY Ax3 and rob us of our Trios Titles. A man who made Jim Caedus look like an absolute fool everytime we argued in public. A man with TWO horses in the Leap of Faith race and neither of them Jim Caedus. Theo Pryce. Enemy.

Yes Corey, it was Theo, you got me. That's why he hired me and Boss Lane didn't.

?

Oh my Lord Corey on High, Gay (as in happy) Gay (as in gay) God of the Universe, why oh why is mental warfare with you as easy as walkin' up to a 12 year old chick and tellin' her so and so said she's beat af? I got you to worry. To dwell. I got you to doubt yourself and get into your OWN head. I played off insecurities you've been so vocal about ME sufferin'. And I got you, again, to waste precious time. Corey, if you're so vulnerable to mind games of an elementary nature, what makes you think you're properly clear-headed, focused and confident enough to overcome your very own puppet master in the match? It ain't lookin' likely at ALL right now.

And if that ain't bad enough...

Trap three.

You made it painfully apparent followin' RL's failure at the hands of Chris Page that if anyone around here is possessin' of a "throbbing hate boner" it's the furious phallus 'a Corey Smith in first place. Like before, all that was required was to bring the subject up and you pounced on it without so much as considering your words. You say I "went to bat" for Page by basically callin' YOU a pussy for not takin' it to the ring and callin' HIM a piece of shit heel regardless. Did I go to bat for him Corey? Or did I cite that debacle along with other general examples you conveniently overlooked as evidence you are in fact a bully?

I guess you forgot, for instance, that incident with the God of Death guy or whateverthefuck his name was about shootin' some content to promote himself, Oswald weebles in, talks some shit, understandable, he's a bully too. But I was shocked to see YOU saunter in as well Corey, to ensure you got the opportunity to backhand Oz, again understandable, he's also a feeb, and tell the other guy the whole God of Death thing had been done and it didn't work then either. I'm afraid try as I might I can't seem to locate the footage in the recent XWF video files but it happened, despite the fact you flick that taint ticklin' tongue 'a yours like a fuckin' snake as often as possible and it prob'ly slipped your mind.

Do you recall now, lil' buddy? Remember feelin' compelled (as I stated in Open Fire) to inject yourself into situations non-match related with the intent to hurt feelings and discourage? I could be mistaken but I assume the God of Death was relatively new to the roster at the time. Anyone seen him since? Unless he switched costumes and became Thrax, of course not. Clearly he was just some dude sellin' a gimmick and not a true deity of demise; just unsure of 'imself and exposed to the cruelty 'a Corey Smith who for all intents and purposes ran him outta the XWF for no reason other than a compulsion to attack and durin' a time when the ranks of the fed are growing. Nice goin' hero. I echo what I said in my first promo, you're a bully and a detriment to this promotion's community.

As far as the point I was makin' in my mentioning the tiff ya had with him, you can literally Mad Libs the name Page outta context and insert ANY other villain (like that "God of Death") or any other person who rubs your sensitive balls the wrong way in his place. I specifically name dropped him because that event was seen by the entire roster and I KNEW you would be so infinitely obsessed and butthurt about it you'd throw caution to the wind and disregard the shit you've pulled previously. And it drove home my words...you ARE a bully. Is that how a true hero acts Corey? Is that settin' a good example? You gotta forego goin' about shit correctly; havin' control enough over your own emotions and the patience to get your target into a match then punish him or her the proper way? Of course not...you gotta piss on procedure and lower yourself to the level of those you deem are evil who consequently in some cases turn out to be a helluva lot less vindictive than YOU are. Tell me...

...did you ovate when George Floyd's lips turned blue, Corey? That man was a perceived bad guy and he was unjustifiably MURDERED by the "good guys". "Good guys" like you who are DANGEROUSLY convinced they operate with vindication but really, you're nothin' more than villains yourselves who're so fuckin' OUTTA YOUR MINDS PSYCHOTIC ya think 'a yourselves as the "good guys". You know what aptly defines the aforementioned?

Risin' above the petty bullshit YOU focus on. Showin' COMPASSION...you know, like how you claim "How completely unsurprising it is that Jim can’t fathom the notion of somebody doing something benevolent “just because”." You mean like how I wished Thrax good luck in the match and nothin' more when I coulda gone in on 'im? You mean like how I recognized redemptive humanity within Oswald followin' learning of his his tragic past and switched from attackin' 'im to expressin' he's worth more than the abuse he receives from his own stablemates in BoB? I won't bother gettin' into specifics on the charitable work APEX has always been known for because it's PATHETIC to brag about it.

That's benevolence "just because", Corey. Coreytopia is a transaction of "benevolence" for attention. Corey Smith don't do SHIT "just because" unless it's harassing an easy target.

Fuck Chris Page, he'll be dealt with by the REAL heroes here. That weed-addled flaccid fuckstick ain't relevant to this match any further than my usin' him to fuck with your head yet again and push you to WASTE a SUBSTANTIAL amount of your limited time on irrelevance by cryin' about 'im because you absolutely cannot STAND to have your character come into question.

Ego. Narcissism. Lack of control.

Weakness.

How you gonna prevent yourself from meltin' down in the match if you can't even control yourself OUTSIDE the match? How you gonna conquer the man who can trigger you into a rage of emotions and self-sabotage at the drop of a NAME? Your chances are lookin' extremely SLIM at this point.

Which brings me to the fourth and final trap...

Engy.

You think I actually give a good goddamn if he shows up? Dumbass, I brought that up for ONE reason and ONE reason only...the trap itself. My perceived "careless" statement about wantin' comeuppance on Eng' for "that ONE magical squash way back" accomplished EXACTLY what I was hopin' it would: to expose you for the ignorant you are on par with Chaos 'imself in the vein 'a not. Paying. Attention.

All I had to do was sell it like I'm every bit the revenge obsessed dullard you believe me to be.

You bought it.

You said Engy defeated me twice. Granted, it was my NAME associated with the matchup back in 2018 but that wasn't me...at all.

"*gasp*"

You claim to have researched me, you obviously know a BOATLOAD about Engy and are absolutely relevantly associated with him but you space on the FACT that man Engy defeated was the grand prize winner 'a the Be Caedus For a Day contest which would seem to be the horrifically tragic "gift" that keeps on givin'. It worked on Chaos in promo in 2019, now it's shown you to be a complete jackass in 2021. None of it's a secret, it's right there accessible for any to see on XWF24/7.com. For the boy who defines the one authority on everything Engy...to miss that detail is a GRAVE error. That sunuvabitch whom Eng' defeated and Chaos killed may have slightly resembled me but he didn't sound anything LIKE me, he definitely WASN'T me and THAT is what now throws your competence into question.

If you don't know who the fuck I am, HOW, pray tell, are you gonna be able to keep eyes on me and prevent my claiming the true 24/7 'Case in the Leap of Faith?

Who's the "rollin' fuck-up" 'round here now?

Corey Smith, the guy who denies defining a sociopath because he invited people "into his house"- during the attention grabbing timin' 'a the pandemic no less, NOT prior as would a sincerely charitable person, because we all know there was a void in homelessness and poverty before covid hit -CLEARLY for the look of it in an attempt to appear normal and "benevolent" and grant 'imself an excuse to lord it over anyone in response to gettin' called out on his solidly displayed tendency towards arrogance.

The guy who exhibits anti-social behavior by alienating his peers from a position of "I'm above you all", the self described "thoroughbred", who whittles down the list of XWFamily names via bullying and then angrily demands to know HOW that can be seen as bullying.

The guy who exhibited anti-social behavior among his few friends in his opening promo, givin' 'em a pissy attitude because awwwwww widdle Corey isn't happy and can't see past his own self-centered feelings to avoid hurtin' the feelings of others who actually care about 'im.

The guy who uses flattery and oh woe is me pity party plays for sympathy to more effectively appear a less likely target for criticism and less like the arrogant people-hatin' piece 'a pretentious shit he really is.

What's the definition of a sociopath?

Someone who has antisocial personality disorder. People with ASPD can’t understand others’ feelings. They’ll often make impulsive decisions without feeling guilty for the harm they cause. People with ASPD may also use “mind games” to control friends, family members, co-workers, and even strangers. They may also be perceived as charismatic or charming.

Corey. Smith.

That's you to a T motherfucker.

All in all, what have I accomplished against you in this wicked war of words Corey?

I've proven you:

A. Don't know WHERE I am
B. Don't know WHO I am
C. Don't pay attention
D. Cannot control your extreme ego and emotions to avoid self-sabotage
E. Are extremely easy to fool to disastrous effect

Do you know what that all amounts to?



Made ya kill your cosplay, hero.

Made ya kill your content.

Made ya kill yourself.

From the word go I've led you around by the uncut flesh 'a your infant dick, Corey. Every move I've made was calculated. Every move you've made was impulsive. You'll probably point out the "hypocrisy" that I accuse you of desperation maneuvers to double up on the content due to feelings of inadequacy when I "did similar" in my second, Return Fire. But you'll be, as ever, clueless to the truth and that being THIS is what I do. I come outta the gate at a charge, I intensify the pressure in round two and I calmly move in for the kill by the conclusion. I've done nothin' inconsistent with what I always do. It's still you who recognized a need to overcompensate and put in the effort you didn't show from the START...and for your third attempt, in light 'a the supremely beefy nature 'a my Return Fire, you'll more than likely repeat the action.

Would anyone at this point be surprised if little Corey Smith now panics and loses further control of himself to the point he becomes even more susceptible to an emerging Engy, Lux or (insert 3rd dickless move here) and one of them appears? If they do appear, I'll crush whomever it is as I've crushed you Corey.

And btw...hate to break it to you "bud", but the XWF cameras see and hear all. ALL. I know ya hates to have any subject at all readily available for attack but that's what the world is Corey; outta your fuckin' control.

The golden boys been gutted.

Tryta keep me from the true 24/7 'Case in the Leap of Faith match, I'll knock you back into a coma and give you a valid excuse to invent welcome another "ok, NOW I'm serious" super powered persona inta your circlejerk.

And speakin' 'a jag-offs...

Chaos, keep that pussy wet for me, you're gettin' fucked before I retire you for good.

Demos, you wonder why I paid you the compliment of treatin' you like the threat you SHOULD be? Jesus, you really ARE just gonna torpedo your career here aren't you... And I-D-K how or why you did it but you've somehow proven yourself more a fuck-up than Chaos ever could, even he knows I been doin' what I do for years and he may even tryta legit merk you for usurping uslurpin' 'is perma position around my cock, it's all he has. Seriously, I frightened you inta beast bitchmode then forced you inta botchmode. See what happens when you spend all your free time jackin' off? You shift gears from Gump to turbo. Kurt Cobain has more brain matter than you do. Half your headless harangue was 0% accurate, the other half is a mixed bag 'a bullshit you'd have avoided if you'd personally taken the time to research as opposed to apparently takin' advice from a lazy loser who's never defeated me and never will. You couldn't make a shot at me stick if your balls were fulla Loctite limpdick. I own you.

Ariel Dixon...gain some goddamn self respect, you've officially set your gender back 7 decades. Oh and Paul Dini called, he'd rather suck Stan's dead dick and sellout to Disney than see his property molested by a dark match enhancement talent duo.

RL, wayta live up to my words and ignore the tough love I fully intended to INSPIRE you to TRY and not define what Demos seems to think describes Caedus in any way. Oswald looks better than you do.

Oswald... Listen or don't. But heed this: if the loss of your parents was as tragic for you as you've made appear, you ain't honorin' them the way you are now, you're pissin' on their memory. Stop tryna fit in with the wrong crowd, cuck. Sever ties with BoB, pull your funding and form a tag team with Graves. Shit could approach Cady-Gravy level gold. Oh and stay the fuck outta my way in the Leap of Faith or I'll kick you in the taint so hard it'll split you vertically.

And finally, Dock.

I saw DOCK-Punch. Bravo.

Lemme get this straight... instead 'a showin' less human vulnerability you decide to show more? You draw back and await for a final day assault, possibly a double bomb drop? Christ, not even Demos ended up wantin' to look so spineless. Perhaps no one else will say it, I will: regardless of what you might respond with, you made the legendary Doc(k) look incredibly weak. You really are afraid to tangle with any of us in any fashion considered head-on.

You ain't just a legend Doc(k), you're THE legend in this business but your actions as of late are severely unbecoming 'a the designation. Do you- YOU -really need to pull this kinda shit? If you have haymakers to deliver, what's stoppin' ya? Are you that terrified to allow anyone else a decent amount 'a time to respond? Are you that insecure now over the loss to Alias?

Quit mixin' potions and get back to work Scary Plotter, the shit is embarrassing.

The mighty Dock, so unsure of his ability to dominate he had to cower in a corner and camp like an MMOFPS bitch. Say whatever you desire about "smart strategy", win or lose you still look fearful and hesitant (two qualities that won't translate well in the match) and you've done nothin' but solidify what I've said about you. I don't NEED to respond directly to your latest. You've become vulnerable and you've displayed a breakdown in mental ability with the type 'a mistakes directed at me in your opener I'd expect from Chaos.

The worst part about it is, you prob'ly don't care how thoroughly you've undermined your appearance here as a means to your ends of ensuring 9 other competitors don't win.

And you would, wouldn't you. You'd ironically go about it that far to satisfy your fragile, very human ego and ultimately kill off the legend in the process.

Pathetic.

You're The Dock D'Ville. No L in your column could ever take that away, you can only surrender it.

And you are.

Because if this is how it's gonna be, you ain't a legend you're a myth.

You couldn't care less, I know, I'll say it anyway...my abusive way 'a wagin' word war aside, you have no idea how much respect I've had for you in my nigh 5 years on and off the active roster. For you to go this route is a personal letdown for me and honestly, your assumed arrogant retort in response would matter as little to me as the name D'Ville does to you.

You and anyone else can say what you will about me but if I hadn't had the strength, courage and determination to conquer what made me my own worst enemy I never woulda been able to come back.

Period.

Everyone has flaws but to force yourself to face those flaws, take personal responsibility and correct them requires tremendous will not everyone possesses. Some like Corey can't see past their own narcissism. Others like Chaos are simply incapable of identifyin' the issues. You Dock, you CHOOSE to ignore your flaws and you magnify them as a consequence. I mean, it's either that or I'm givin' you far too much credit as a learned man, doctor. You falsely claim to not be the same you were before (physical transformation aside) but I'm truly not the man I was when I left. I kept the ability and dropped the major flaw I've had my entire life. Win or lose, that makes me significantly more dangerous.

Big Bossman Lane may have been specific with 'is words but I'm in this for victory. I'm in this for the good 'a the company in preventin' another push by BoB and kickin' off the crumblin' 'a their empire with the true 24/7 Briefcase. And goddammit Dock, my motivation here is the measure of a man who will face down any threat great or small and push 'imself beyond 'is own limits to accomplish what HAS to be done. I've been doin' it since we started.

There is no choice for me, this is an obligation to somethin' greater than ego, revenge, redemption... Greater than any man or woman. Greater than Dock 'imself.

Justice. The light. The right.

That gives me strength akin to a parent liftin' a truck off their child. And not only do I know the loss of one child I know the addition of another, born into a world of growing misery and corruption. I know the responsibility to do whatever in my power to provide a safer place for 'er in which to not only exist but to thrive as I know she can. I may be facin' a monumental task as one against the world in that regard but the XWF reaches millions...and it gives me the platform to set an example others will follow. To allow attempted MURDERERS and those like YOU Dock who would enable them to remain a threat is impossible. Stoppin' you, Oz and everyone else in the match gets me that much closer to stompin' out the flames 'a BoB. And if somethin' as seemingly insignificant as a wrestlin' match by comparison to the world at large gets the "good fight" merely an millimeter closer to tippin' the scales in favor of victory- and it does, one seed planted in the mind 'a the right viewer could be the catalyst for positive change -then I'll put my life on the line to achieve it.

I'm doin' this.

I'm doin' it for me, for Robert, for APEX, for Boss Lane and the XWF.

I'm doin' it for the world.

Fuck a smartass flip response, I'm doin' this for my daughter and every other kid and loving parent out there.

You and everyone else are gonna hafta quite literally kill me in the Leap of Faith to stop me.



Take your best fuckin' shot.




XXXFXOXRXXXTXHXEXXXHXEXRXOXEXSXXX

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CAEDUS REWIND: When last we left Caedus, his easy way out of the asylum in Doc Brown had vanished, a casualty of corrected timeline, forcing Jim to face the fact that he can't take back what was done. Now truly trapped, Jim has a two choices: conquer...or submit.






(continued from "Return Fire")

---3 Months Later---
September 2019












I guess what I'm tryin' ta say is, if yuh haven't gotten head from a fat girl then yuh haven't met my wife. Huh. The therapy circle laughs.

Has it ever occurred to you, Mr. Hardy, that perhaps you're simply just insecure and lacking of the trust necessary to maintain a strong and meaningful relationship?

Gee that hadn't occurred to me, no. I see it now! I'm cured! Huh. What's that got tuh do with my wife bein' a whoore?

Rolling her eyes, Nurse Ratched turns her attention to Jim with the cold gaze of one who didn't honestly get her world rocked by the man in the broom closet 3 months ago. Yep, hate fuck. Damn she's good. What about you, James? It's been three months and you still haven't even attempted to share with us all what it is that truly has you in here.

There ain't nothin' wrong with you.

Staring out the window, the exuberance and incorrigible attitude long gone. ...None 'a you would understand.

I disagree. There are a lot of men with a lot of problems on this ward. Are you so certain yours are unique enough that no one can relate? Do you honestly believe it isn't anything I haven't heard before in here?

Ok, I don't understand, how's that? I ain't done a goddamn thing wrong since June, I've shown myself to be cooperative and peaceful yet I'm still here. Why.

I told you before if we can't identify your problem, why would we ever let you out? What's to prevent the same thing you did to land yourself in the hospital in the first place from happening again? How can you be trusted?

You're a good person. There's nothing wrong with you and you DID nothing wrong. It's everyone else, not you.

Because I say I can be. I'm a good person and I'm not a danger to anyone. I know who the fuck I am.

Do you.

She just called you a liar!

Are you callin' me a liar!?

I'm questioning if you really do have the self awareness to proclaim yourself cured and ready to return to society.

She's calling you STUPID!

Stands, back-kicking his chair out from under him. WHAT!? You callin' me a fuckin' idiot!?

Sit down Mr. O'Connor or so help me...

She's callin' you a PUSSY!

Flinching in cranial pain. Or WHAT!? You'll kick my ass?? Well BRING it bitch, I've been waitin' for the continuation to our last encounter! And I ain't talkin' about fuckin' you into leg shakin' submission either!

Standing, eyes flashing with anger. SIT DOWN!

DON'T DO IT!

Nearly crumbles to the floor. MAKE me BITCH!

Rage. That's IT!

Before Jim can react, he receives a knockout blow spiralling him into oblivion...





Waking in darkness.

Jim stands to find himself alone in the void.

A flash of light...

...and we've officially entered a frontrunner for cliché self discovery/personal struggle scenarios as Jim faces...Jim.

Yep.

The universe groans.

Aw fuck me...not ME. I'll never be able to target someone usin' this concept as ammo for future shit talkin' anymore- DIE, RATCHED!

Yeah that's right motherfucker, me. And if I was the one writin' this shit I woulda come up with somethin' amazing and halfway UNIQUE but nooooooo, it has to be YOUR fuckin' show! The weakass lovey dovey heart on 'is sleeve "GOTTA please EVERYONE" sack of unfunny not good enough douchebag BULLSHIT schmuck! I've been wantin' to kick your ass since you DUMPED me for those gayrods in Ax3! I figured since gettin' my hands on you personally was impossible, go figure, I'd do what I could to push you to the dark Caedus that dominated. The glory days when it was just me and YOU. Y'know, like how it's been for most of our fuckin' LIFE!?

Glory days? GLORY DAYS!? You ROBBED me of who I was the moment you came inta MY life- not ours, MINE! I was a straight A fuckin' student!

You were a nerd somehow dumb enough to believe education mattered. It was cooler to get faded, fuck chicks and half-ass every AP class, you know that!

I was a child actor with the talent and the look to become a star!

Are you fuckin' !? You were a fuckin' background actor! What the HELL makes you think you could ever break in as an EXTRA!?

I was an athlete who inspired thunder from the stands!!

Are you fuckin' !? Again!? You're FIVE FUCKING NINE ASSHOLE!! You can run as fast as the wind and bulk up all you want but you could NEVER play in the NBA or the NFL so what's the fucking POINT!? Shit, you even suck as a wrestler, you couldn't even keep the XWF Universal Title!!

I used to EXCEL at EVERYTHING I did!

You're a LOSER without ME!

You MAKE me a LOSER!

I'M the reason behind your greatest SUCCESS here DUMBASS!

NO! YOU'RE the reason I failed to MAINTAIN that success! You've done that to me my ENTIRE life!!

You did it to yourself.

Epiphany. ...what?

You did it to yourself. I may have sown the seeds of doubt but you're the one who refused to do anything other than believe it and give up. You complain about what's happened in your life, it's ALL. YOUR. FAULT. You don't have the strength to do this on your own, I had to take you by the reigns. If I HADN'T, you never would've attained what success you HAVE. And now, it's too late. You'll never be able to get rid 'a me. Be grateful. Without me you would've been nothin'.

No. It's over.

Fuck you talkin' about.

I'm not livin' like this anymore. I kept me away from success, I kept me in the minor leagues when I could've stopped hopin' for a chance in a promotion like the XWF and just taken my place. I could've maintained my friendships and relationships, and even though they may have ended it would have been parting on good terms not a clusterfuck of emotion. I could've been somebody more than I am now. And I'm not gonna let me stop me anymore.

Laughs. How do you propose to do that?

By killing YOU.

Laughs. How do you propose to do THAT!? Five flashes of light. I've got BACKUP!

Five figures stride forward.










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Cowardice.





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Utter fucking stupidity in Ignorance.






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Complacency.







[Image: AOSvFXr.jpg]
Arrogance. And in 3-D because...well, ego.







[Image: s3tYGfe.png]
And fear in self doubt.

I recognize Christy...and that one looks like Doc just all ashy and crunchy like he should add a K...but the other three, I don't get it. Never seen 'em before. Buzzes the lens.

Whats it matter? You know damn well ain't no way you can take us all on by yourself.

Wrong. Myself is all I ever needed.

Five more flashes of light.

Allow me to introduce my strengths...








































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Courage, Awareness, Dedication, Humility and Self Confidence.

They all remove their helmets...5 more Jims. Like we didn't see that coming.

All in unison: 'Sup.

::growls:: Of fuckin' course... KILL 'EM AAAAAAAAALL!!


The 10 soldiers come together en masse in a conflict of epic proportions, somehow perfectly matching up as appropriate.

Awareness immediately Purgatory Punches Utter fucking stupidity through Ignorance's head clean off.

Courage rockets a Wrexus Plexus through the chest of Cowardice, sending his tiny heart flying.

Ignorance, though headless, continues to fight albeit swinging aimlessly and missing every blow.

Cowardice shoves his heart back in his chest gape and advances on Courage.

Courage and Awareness exchange glances, produce AK-47s and unload with their ammunition. Facts burst forth and pepper both Cowardice and Ignorance into meaty chunks of STILL angrily pulsating meat. Courage and Awareness shake then piss on the remains.

Meanwhile, Dedication has beaten Complacency with his bare hands into a mass of broken bones, flesh and oddly translucent liquid...because, well, Complacency had no heart to begin with and therefore his veins coursed with running waters.

Humility waits patiently, quietly, as a shrieking Arrogance keeps a slight distance flinging charged tarot cards like he thinks he's Gambit or someone else capable. When he's run out of ammunition, and missed every fucking shot, Arrogance asks Humility to just stand still as he shoots forward in a mad dash-

-falling directly into legit the most obvious pitfall ever devised. He screams something along the lines of "This is BULLSHIT! I NEVER lose! I demand to speak to-" before his mouth is suddenly and rudely invaded by one of the wicked spikes at the bottom, skewering Arrogance straight through and popping out his surprisingly puckered asshole.

But ALL is not well in the battle as Fear in Self Doubt decides floating high above Self Confidence and dropping yoga flames is the way to go and for all appearances it would seem he's correct.

Until Self Confidence magically POOFS to mid air alongside Fear and latches on, somersaults and zooms down to the "ground" at the speed of the light, sending up a massive explosion on impact. As the blast dissipates, we see Self Confidence and Fear in Self Doubt grappling at the base of the crater, it appears a stalemate at best...but Fear looks to be changing that in short order.

Overpowering Self Confidence, Self Doubt executes a LOBOTOMY!!!


Extreme glee. Ha! Ha ha ha! Ahahahahahahahaahahaaaaaaaaa! It's OVER you gayish little pussy! Now Fear in Self Doubt and I will murder YOU...and we'll take over your fuckin' mind and morph your outward appearance or some other horseshit like that and get into aaaaaaaall SORTS of stupidass antics!

I wouldn't be so sure...


As Fear in Self Doubt turns to walk away, the hand of Self Confidence catches him by the elbow. Fear's eyes widen as he twists to regard Self Confidence-

-receiving a Point Blank for his trouble, a knee to the gut and-


-KATABASIS!!!!!!!

Fear in Self Doubt's neck snaps on impact and he lies still.


No! ...NO! ......NOOOOOOOO!! HOW!?

Self Confidence is the hinge to a better life and success.

Enraged. FUCK Self Confidence!! You still have to take ME down and that's a feat you've NEVER accomplished!! And guess what...I have THIS! Jim's Invasive Thoughts pulls a glowing golden nugget on a chain* free from his baggy blue Dickies shorts pocket.

(*An artifact Jim discovered way back in 2017 right before the Leap of Faith, it grants him the power of two Caedae in battle. Sweet, huh?)

So fuckin' what. I don't need it anymore. Courage starts to glow. I don't need to keep relyin' on an exterior crutch. I have my own inner strength. Awareness starts to glow. I've done without it for years and I ain't gonna stop now that I've discovered the well of my power. Dedication lights up. Even if I were to prove not strong enough, I would rather fall in defeat as who I really am than play dirty and advance to the heights I clearly wouldn't deserve. Humility sparks to life. But I have the utmost confidence in my abilities to see me through to victory. Self Confidence illuminates the entire playing field, casting dark into light. Jim HIMSELF begins to glow.

No! This isn't POSSIBLE! You CAN'T! The strength of FIVE CAEDAE!?

Six. I'm Jim Caedus. Bitch.

Jim unleashes a stream of pure power at his foe.

FUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!

And Jim's Invasive Thoughts detonate like the 4th of July.

At once, Courage, Self Confidence, Awareness, Dedication and Humility wink out and Jim's glowing subsides, leaving him once more in the darkness.

A flash of light. Excellent job James. I'm proud of you, very very proud. Now...can you defeat me?

Jim's fists raise. I know who you are. The poofing, the unbelievable strength, the powers...you're Doc. That golem of Fear in Self Doubt may have looked like Doc but Doc could never be taken down quite so easily. It's been you the whole time in this asylum. And you know what that means? I fucked you Doc. Fucked you long and hard. Now I'm gonna fuck you UP.

That won't be necessary...

Doctor Dunnem flashes in.

You again with the Doc voice. Enough with the Doc voice dipshit, I already know he's Nurse Ratched.

Doctor Dunnem suddenly engulfs in flames, revealing the one and only Doctor Louis D'Ville in his place. Is she now.

Awwwwwww maaaaaaaaan. What the FUCK Doc?? What's all this about??Who the fuck is SHE??

Regarding Ratched. Merely a construct of mine. A drone, granted limited powers similar to my own. You may go my dear. Ratched vanishes. And you... Looking to Jim.You are free to leave as well Jim. You have nothing more to learn...and neither do I.

The fuck you talkin' 'bout neither do you, Doc?

That is none of your concern. Suffice to say I was asked to evaluate you. You've been evaluated. You've proven yourself innocent of the charges, I will pass that along. Like I said, you may go now.

K, cool. Staring into space. Open sesameeee. ...Ain't workin' Doc. HOW DO I LEAVE? I don't even know where the FUCK I really am!

We are in your mind naturally, I thought you'd figured that out earlier. As for your physical location, you've been residing in the asylum adjoining Mastermind Castle for the better part of a year.

The setting suddenly flashes white.

Waking strapped to an operating table, Doc peering down at him. Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck!! Lemme loose!!

One last thing... Doc knives his hand down into Jim's head, the physical properties of his limb turning incorporeal. All Jim can see however is Doc punching at him so he yelps-

-right before Doc pulls his hand free, solidifying, clutching a misshapen dark lump which he drops into a jar.

Observing the lump in the jar. Fascinating.

The hell did you just do?

I removed a tumor in your brain. It was exacerbating the issues you've been having...and it was killing you.

Jesus Christ...

That holier than thou hippy has nothing to do with it.

No I mean, Jesus Christ, THE Doc D'Ville just saved my life!

Staring at the lump. I wouldn't think too far into it Jim.

Fuckin' AWESOME! Doc FUCKIN' D'Ville laid hands on me and saved me! I can't wait to tell- A single finger to the third eye stops Jim in mid sentence.

I'm afraid you won't be telling anyone. This will remain our little secret. In fact, until I lift this veil, you will neither hear nor see anything regarding these events until I decide the time is appropriate. Removes his finger.

Blankly blinking. Noticing Doc. Starting in shock. What the FUCK!? DOC!!

Smiles and winks. Toodles.

In a flash Jim vanishes, transported away to his life back in California.

I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again...in time.





(To be continued in the next cycle)

**********************************





"The Magic Bullet"





---Vague, PY (Purgatory)---
"Land of the Rising Gun"


"Floating" ('cause Purgatory is zero G, wheeeeeee!!). Corey...I love you ?. No, really. I mean yeah, I hate your guts too and request you'd grab your ankles in front of an oncoming bullet train so we can all watch a fruit splatter like front row Gallagher but I love you all the same and guarantee I'd pour out a lil' liquor at the closed casket. It's crazy, I know. But I'll touch on that later.

K, it's later. Whorey Pith, you waste far too much time- that being any at all -commentin' on me bein' crazy with your hook line 'n stinkers. I came into this promotion crazy, I own bein' crazy, the current handle is Psycho Number Six The White Knight; which you clearly noticed and referenced yet for some reason still thought callin' a nut a nut is a cut. Sweetheart, the name Jim Caedus is an anagram for Mad Juices, I make my livin' off crazy and O izzit ever so orgasmic to be me. That's why I get so sexual with it...'cause this shit makes me harder than first-time stiff. And hoooolyyyyy STIFF have I got a woody to plank the great golden boy Gatekeeper 'a the XWF.

Just as an appetizer however, nice work goin' on record to say I'm still in the hospital with the SSRI bit. You were able to see in my first promo I was remanded into their custody by the courts in 2019 to determine if I was criminally and/or violently insane and obviously, I'm now free. Whadja think me bein' back in the XWF amounted to, psycho work release? Clearly, defining an über intelligent wunderkind doesn't include common sense. Ain't that just typical 'a the book smart youth like you; you can parrot what you pick up on social media, the news or assigned readin' from a textbook, you can wail all day on politics, fling trendy terminology with ease and quote fine literature but when it comes to real life, by and large you don't know shit. No wonder it was so easy to sneak in under your radar and snatch that case on Warfare, you literally don't know where I'm comin' from. How you gonna keep track 'a me in the match muffin? It ain't lookin' good for you so far...

I mean, you make it "all too easy" Panickin' Skywalker Guystalker. You can chalk it up to youngster dumbassery but all the same, you about to get Kenobi'd and I don't think even Thadly's gonna be voice crackin' a NOOOO!!.

?......you legit don't even know what I'm prattling on about, do you.

Corey my first promo was so chock fulla trappy goodness I essentially rolled out the red minefield and sat waitin' for someone to trip somethin'. What you gave me was the time 'a my life watchin' you get ping ponged from trigger to trigger like follow the bouncing bomb just off the bait I left in Open Fire.

You honestly tripped every. Single. Trap.

I knew aimin' at your swollen ego would get you to personally prove my point on your arrogance and lack of humility. All I had to do was drop a couple lines criticizin' you for Coreytopia and you literally wasted a good deal of your spiel squealin' about it ON TOP of failing to absorb that I said: Centurion nails you on arrogance and your first thought is to brag about charity. You cemented that by, well, braggin' about charity, goin' so far as to say "God damn what a place the XWF is! You try to do something nice for people, ask nothing in return, and get branded an asshole for it. Says more about you soulless pricks than it does about me." That's right, attack us en masse for the comments of a few. How heroic and even-keeled, Corey, and I'm the psycho here. You're right though, you don't "ask nothin' in return", you EXPECT somethin' in return. You expect praise and respect and if that weren't the case, you wouldn't feel the need to bitch about the criticism, you'd let it roll off your back and you wouldn't advertise and exploit for attention like allowing Coreytopia to be booked as the venue for a PPV event starrin' the ever egotistical Boy Fuck Club and Dolly. Familiar at all with the scripture 'a the widow's mite? Doesn't matter.

I love, by the way, that you retort to me sayin' the name Coreytopia makes you look like an arrogant tool with "and fuck you, Dolly came up with the name and I LOVE IT!". Yeah, I know you love the name Coreytopia, Corey. We [size=large]ALL[/large] know Corey loves the name Coreytopia, COREY. BeCorese all is Corey Corepletely and Corey Coretrols planet Corth from Corust to Core, CorCorey. CoreyCor Corey Cor Cor? Coooreyyyyy COR! Corey Cor CorCoCor......

COOOOOORRRREYYYYYYYYYY

Floating nearby, clutching his head in agony. Jim not again!

Yeah man, please, NO CORE! I mean- !

Oh God you've got Bob doin' it now!

Panicking. I'm Corey, I- I mean I'm COREY! Goddammit, I mean I'm SOREY! I Corn't stop Cor Coreying Cor COR COREY COREYCOR COREY COREY COREY COREY COREY COREY COREY-

Hands to ears. He's stuck in an infinite Coreyloop!

-OREY COREY COREY CO-

I'll hit him in the head with this bottle!

Eyes widen. COREY!! COREY COREY CO-

Are you sure Jim? Because I HAVE a bottle. Holds up an unopened Dewers.

Oh man I love De- Hey... Hey that's MY bottle! What the FUCK Drew!?

What's more important Bob? A bottle of whiskey or cracking Jimmy in the head with it?

DON'T DO THAT! Look, he's fighting it!

Struggling to regain his counterCoreyactive batshit. COREY COREY COR- ...COR-... C- Corrreyyym the master of all I surveeeey. In this, the land of tattered dreams and the wailing of lost souls felled in battle against the subconscious malevolence of the sun. Here...here shall I plant my flag in the very eye of the storm. Come to me my Warriors, grab a body part and cling for dear life as we ascend to the heavens for waaaar. In my veins pumps the blood of the Warriooooor. In your veins pumps the blood of the Warrioooor. And together, we Warriors shall conquer...our...fooooooooooes. ::Warrior snort:: Hey, I did it! The bottle shatters against Jim's head. FUCK! Jim begins to float away.

Unintentionally floating backward due to tossing the bottle in zero G. Woooooooooorth iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Damn you Drew! Breast-stroking after him.

More or less unhurt, shaking fist. You're lucky I got a head that can drive nails Drew! Looks to the lens as the all-seeing XWF drone floats along with him.

Anyway, enough with the antics, back to what I was sayin' about the first trap you tripped...

The main point 'a that pitfall was this:

What the fuck does Coreytopia have anything to do with the Leap of Faith match? You do realize we only get 3 chances in the promo cycle to wear everyone else out mentally and you focused on somethin' completely irrelevant and wasted limited airtime right? You know why? Your overabundance of narcissism. I'll strike with and respond to anything I can tie into psychological assault and exploiting weaknesses that logically translate to me capitalizin' in combat but you, you'll clap-back just to fold over and suck your own dick and condemn anyone havin' the gall to say somethin' neg about you personally. Is anyone bein' a prick gonna prevent him or her from successfully competin' here? It don't stop Chris Page or Ned Kaye, so what the fuck does it matter?

It doesn't. And here's the rundown...

Counting off with his fingers. I got you to go postal over nothin', prove my point AND surrender a chunk 'a your tirade towards me. You're an immature, incompetent child, Corey, and you been tricked by a growns up you perceive is of lower intelligence. How you gonna keep up with me mentally in the match if it's SO. GOD. DAMN. EASY to get over on you in promo alone? It's lookin' a lot less likely.

What say we dig a little deeper...

...and highlight further how effortless it is to get in your head. This one shocks me because I didn't even dress it up, it was as blatant as it can get, to the point I didn't believe you'd fall for it all...but you did. And all it took was sayin' you're thoroughly disliked to a backroom dealings degree.

"Hey Jim, just who am I “thoroughly disliked by”? The B.O.B.ies? Oh hunty, I assure you I’m crying on the inside! Main? Well of course, he hates anything remotely resembling valid competition. Theo? I couldn’t rub two shits together. So long as the checks keep clearing. And for as much as Theo may dislike me he’s a savvy enough businessman to realize you don’t hobble one of your prize thoroughbreds."

Did we lose some sleep over that one as I stated you should? Sounds like it. Despite your claims that you couldn't give a shit you very much do seein' as you felt the need, again, to irrelevantly defend yourself. Point in fact, that comment bothered you so much you accused Theo Pryce of talkin' shit about you to ME.

Theo Pryce.

One among The Kings who helped DESTROY Ax3 and rob us of our Trios Titles. A man who made Jim Caedus look like an absolute fool everytime we argued in public. A man with TWO horses in the Leap of Faith race and neither of them Jim Caedus. Theo Pryce. Enemy.

Yes Corey, it was Theo, you got me. That's why he hired me and Boss Lane didn't.

?

Oh my Lord Corey on High, Gay (as in happy) Gay (as in gay) God of the Universe, why oh why is mental warfare with you as easy as walkin' up to a 12 year old chick and tellin' her so and so said she's beat af? I got you to worry. To dwell. I got you to doubt yourself and get into your OWN head. I played off insecurities you've been so vocal about ME sufferin'. And I got you, again, to waste precious time. Corey, if you're so vulnerable to mind games of an elementary nature, what makes you think you're properly clear-headed, focused and confident enough to overcome your very own puppet master in the match? It ain't lookin' likely at ALL right now.

And if that ain't bad enough...

Trap three.

You made it painfully apparent followin' RL's failure at the hands of Chris Page that if anyone around here is possessin' of a "throbbing hate boner" it's the furious phallus 'a Corey Smith in first place. Like before, all that was required was to bring the subject up and you pounced on it without so much as considering your words. You say I "went to bat" for Page by basically callin' YOU a pussy for not takin' it to the ring and callin' HIM a piece of shit heel regardless. Did I go to bat for him Corey? Or did I cite that debacle along with other general examples you conveniently overlooked as evidence you are in fact a bully?

I guess you forgot, for instance, that incident with the God of Death guy or whateverthefuck his name was about shootin' some content to promote himself, Oswald weebles in, talks some shit, understandable, he's a bully too. But I was shocked to see YOU saunter in as well Corey, to ensure you got the opportunity to backhand Oz, again understandable, he's also a feeb, and tell the other guy the whole God of Death thing had been done and it didn't work then either. I'm afraid try as I might I can't seem to locate the footage in the recent XWF video files but it happened, despite the fact you flick that taint ticklin' tongue 'a yours like a fuckin' snake as often as possible and it prob'ly slipped your mind.

Do you recall now, lil' buddy? Remember feelin' compelled (as I stated in Open Fire) to inject yourself into situations non-match related with the intent to hurt feelings and discourage? I could be mistaken but I assume the God of Death was relatively new to the roster at the time. Anyone seen him since? Unless he switched costumes and became Thrax, of course not. Clearly he was just some dude sellin' a gimmick and not a true deity of demise; just unsure of 'imself and exposed to the cruelty 'a Corey Smith who for all intents and purposes ran him outta the XWF for no reason other than a compulsion to attack and durin' a time when the ranks of the fed are growing. Nice goin' hero. I echo what I said in my first promo, you're a bully and a detriment to this promotion's community.

As far as the point I was makin' in my mentioning the tiff ya had with him, you can literally Mad Libs the name Page outta context and insert ANY other villain (like that "God of Death") or any other person who rubs your sensitive balls the wrong way in his place. I specifically name dropped him because that event was seen by the entire roster and I KNEW you would be so infinitely obsessed and butthurt about it you'd throw caution to the wind and disregard the shit you've pulled previously. And it drove home my words...you ARE a bully. Is that how a true hero acts Corey? Is that settin' a good example? You gotta forego goin' about shit correctly; havin' control enough over your own emotions and the patience to get your target into a match then punish him or her the proper way? Of course not...you gotta piss on procedure and lower yourself to the level of those you deem are evil who consequently in some cases turn out to be a helluva lot less vindictive than YOU are. Tell me...

...did you ovate when George Floyd's lips turned blue, Corey? That man was a perceived bad guy and he was unjustifiably MURDERED by the "good guys". "Good guys" like you who are DANGEROUSLY convinced they operate with vindication but really, you're nothin' more than villains yourselves who're so fuckin' OUTTA YOUR MINDS PSYCHOTIC ya think 'a yourselves as the "good guys". You know what aptly defines the aforementioned?

Risin' above the petty bullshit YOU focus on. Showin' COMPASSION...you know, like how you claim "How completely unsurprising it is that Jim can’t fathom the notion of somebody doing something benevolent “just because”." You mean like how I wished Thrax good luck in the match and nothin' more when I coulda gone in on 'im? You mean like how I recognized redemptive humanity within Oswald followin' learning of his his tragic past and switched from attackin' 'im to expressin' he's worth more than the abuse he receives from his own stablemates in BoB? I won't bother gettin' into specifics on the charitable work APEX has always been known for because it's PATHETIC to brag about it.

That's benevolence "just because", Corey. Coreytopia is a transaction of "benevolence" for attention. Corey Smith don't do SHIT "just because" unless it's harassing an easy target.

Fuck Chris Page, he'll be dealt with by the REAL heroes here. That weed-addled flaccid fuckstick ain't relevant to this match any further than my usin' him to fuck with your head yet again and push you to WASTE a SUBSTANTIAL amount of your limited time on irrelevance by cryin' about 'im because you absolutely cannot STAND to have your character come into question.

Ego. Narcissism. Lack of control.

Weakness.

How you gonna prevent yourself from meltin' down in the match if you can't even control yourself OUTSIDE the match? How you gonna conquer the man who can trigger you into a rage of emotions and self-sabotage at the drop of a NAME? Your chances are lookin' extremely SLIM at this point.

Which brings me to the fourth and final trap...

Engy.

You think I actually give a good goddamn if he shows up? Dumbass, I brought that up for ONE reason and ONE reason only...the trap itself. My perceived "careless" statement about wantin' comeuppance on Eng' for "that ONE magical squash way back" accomplished EXACTLY what I was hopin' it would: to expose you for the ignorant you are on par with Chaos 'imself in the vein 'a not. Paying. Attention.

All I had to do was sell it like I'm every bit the revenge obsessed dullard you believe me to be.

You bought it.

You said Engy defeated me twice. Granted, it was my NAME associated with the matchup back in 2018 but that wasn't me...at all.

"*gasp*"

You claim to have researched me, you obviously know a BOATLOAD about Engy and are absolutely relevantly associated with him but you space on the FACT that man Engy defeated was the grand prize winner 'a the Be Caedus For a Day contest which would seem to be the horrifically tragic "gift" that keeps on givin'. It worked on Chaos in promo in 2019, now it's shown you to be a complete jackass in 2021. None of it's a secret, it's right there accessible for any to see on XWF24/7.com. For the boy who defines the one authority on everything Engy...to miss that detail is a GRAVE error. That sunuvabitch whom Eng' defeated and Chaos killed may have slightly resembled me but he didn't sound anything LIKE me, he definitely WASN'T me and THAT is what now throws your competence into question.

If you don't know who the fuck I am, HOW, pray tell, are you gonna be able to keep eyes on me and prevent my claiming the true 24/7 'Case in the Leap of Faith?

Who's the "rollin' fuck-up" 'round here now?

Corey Smith, the guy who denies defining a sociopath because he invited people "into his house"- during the attention grabbing timin' 'a the pandemic no less, NOT prior as would a sincerely charitable person, because we all know there was a void in homelessness and poverty before covid hit -CLEARLY for the look of it in an attempt to appear normal and "benevolent" and grant 'imself an excuse to lord it over anyone in response to gettin' called out on his solidly displayed tendency towards arrogance.

The guy who exhibits anti-social behavior by alienating his peers from a position of "I'm above you all", the self described "thoroughbred", who whittles down the list of XWFamily names via bullying and then angrily demands to know HOW that can be seen as bullying.

The guy who exhibited anti-social behavior among his few friends in his opening promo, givin' 'em a pissy attitude because awwwwww widdle Corey isn't happy and can't see past his own self-centered feelings to avoid hurtin' the feelings of others who actually care about 'im.

The guy who uses flattery and oh woe is me pity party plays for sympathy to more effectively appear a less likely target for criticism and less like the arrogant people-hatin' piece 'a pretentious shit he really is.

What's the definition of a sociopath?

Someone who has antisocial personality disorder. People with ASPD can’t understand others’ feelings. They’ll often make impulsive decisions without feeling guilty for the harm they cause. People with ASPD may also use “mind games” to control friends, family members, co-workers, and even strangers. They may also be perceived as charismatic or charming.

Corey. Smith.

That's you to a T motherfucker.

All in all, what have I accomplished against you in this wicked war of words Corey?

I've proven you:

A. Don't know WHERE I am
B. Don't know WHO I am
C. Don't pay attention
D. Cannot control your extreme ego and emotions to avoid self-sabotage
E. Are extremely easy to fool to disastrous effect

Do you know what that all amounts to?



Made ya kill your cosplay, hero.

Made ya kill your content.

Made ya kill yourself.

From the word go I've led you around by the uncut flesh 'a your infant dick, Corey. Every move I've made was calculated. Every move you've made was impulsive. You'll probably point out the "hypocrisy" that I accuse you of desperation maneuvers to double up on the content due to feelings of inadequacy when I "did similar" in my second, Return Fire. But you'll be, as ever, clueless to the truth and that being THIS is what I do. I come outta the gate at a charge, I intensify the pressure in round two and I calmly move in for the kill by the conclusion. I've done nothin' inconsistent with what I always do. It's still you who recognized a need to overcompensate and put in the effort you didn't show from the START...and for your third attempt, in light 'a the supremely beefy nature 'a my Return Fire, you'll more than likely repeat the action.

Would anyone at this point be surprised if little Corey Smith now panics and loses further control of himself to the point he becomes even more susceptible to an emerging Engy, Lux or (insert 3rd dickless move here) and one of them appears? If they do appear, I'll crush whomever it is as I've crushed you Corey.

And btw...hate to break it to you "bud", but the XWF cameras see and hear all. ALL. I know ya hates to have any subject at all readily available for attack but that's what the world is Corey; outta your fuckin' control.

The golden boys been gutted.

Tryta keep me from the true 24/7 'Case in the Leap of Faith match, I'll knock you back into a coma and give you a valid excuse to invent welcome another "ok, NOW I'm serious" super powered persona inta your circlejerk.

And speakin' 'a jag-offs...

Chaos, keep that pussy wet for me, you're gettin' fucked before I retire you for good.

Demos, you wonder why I paid you the compliment of treatin' you like the threat you SHOULD be? Jesus, you really ARE just gonna torpedo your career here aren't you... And I-D-K how or why you did it but you've somehow proven yourself more a fuck-up than Chaos ever could, even he knows I been doin' what I do for years and he may even tryta legit merk you for usurping uslurpin' 'is perma position around my cock, it's all he has. Seriously, I frightened you inta beast bitchmode then forced you inta botchmode. See what happens when you spend all your free time jackin' off? You shift gears from Gump to turbo. Kurt Cobain has more brain matter than you do. Half your headless harangue was 0% accurate, the other half is a mixed bag 'a bullshit you'd have avoided if you'd personally taken the time to research as opposed to apparently takin' advice from a lazy loser who's never defeated me and never will. You couldn't make a shot at me stick if your balls were fulla Loctite limpdick. I own you.

Ariel Dixon...gain some goddamn self respect, you've officially set your gender back 7 decades. Oh and Paul Dini called, he'd rather suck Stan's dead dick and sellout to Disney than see his property molested by a dark match enhancement talent duo.

RL, wayta live up to my words and ignore the tough love I fully intended to INSPIRE you to TRY and not define what Demos seems to think describes Caedus in any way. Oswald looks better than you do.

Oswald... Listen or don't. But heed this: if the loss of your parents was as tragic for you as you've made appear, you ain't honorin' them the way you are now, you're pissin' on their memory. Stop tryna fit in with the wrong crowd, cuck. Sever ties with BoB, pull your funding and form a tag team with Graves. Shit could approach Cady-Gravy level gold. Oh and stay the fuck outta my way in the Leap of Faith or I'll kick you in the taint so hard it'll split you vertically.

And finally, Dock.

I saw DOCK-Punch. Bravo.

Lemme get this straight... instead 'a showin' less human vulnerability you decide to show more? You draw back and await for a final day assault, possibly a double bomb drop? Christ, not even Demos ended up wantin' to look so spineless. Perhaps no one else will say it, I will: regardless of what you might respond with, you made the legendary Doc(k) look incredibly weak. You really are afraid to tangle with any of us in any fashion considered head-on.

You ain't just a legend Doc(k), you're THE legend in this business but your actions as of late are severely unbecoming 'a the designation. Do you- YOU -really need to pull this kinda shit? If you have haymakers to deliver, what's stoppin' ya? Are you that terrified to allow anyone else a decent amount 'a time to respond? Are you that insecure now over the loss to Alias?

Quit mixin' potions and get back to work Scary Plotter, the shit is embarrassing.

The mighty Dock, so unsure of his ability to dominate he had to cower in a corner and camp like an MMOFPS bitch. Say whatever you desire about "smart strategy", win or lose you still look fearful and hesitant (two qualities that won't translate well in the match) and you've done nothin' but solidify what I've said about you. I don't NEED to respond directly to your latest. You've become vulnerable and you've displayed a breakdown in mental ability with the type 'a mistakes directed at me in your opener I'd expect from Chaos.

The worst part about it is, you prob'ly don't care how thoroughly you've undermined your appearance here as a means to your ends of ensuring 9 other competitors don't win.

And you would, wouldn't you. You'd ironically go about it that far to satisfy your fragile, very human ego and ultimately kill off the legend in the process.

Pathetic.

You're The Dock D'Ville. No L in your column could ever take that away, you can only surrender it.

And you are.

Because if this is how it's gonna be, you ain't a legend you're a myth.

You couldn't care less, I know, I'll say it anyway...my abusive way 'a wagin' word war aside, you have no idea how much respect I've had for you in my nigh 5 years on and off the active roster. For you to go this route is a personal letdown for me and honestly, your assumed arrogant retort in response would matter as little to me as the name D'Ville does to you.

You and anyone else can say what you will about me but if I hadn't had the strength, courage and determination to conquer what made me my own worst enemy I never woulda been able to come back.

Period.

Everyone has flaws but to force yourself to face those flaws, take personal responsibility and correct them requires tremendous will not everyone possesses. Some like Corey can't see past their own narcissism. Others like Chaos are simply incapable of identifyin' the issues. You Dock, you CHOOSE to ignore your flaws and you magnify them as a consequence. I mean, it's either that or I'm givin' you far too much credit as a learned man, doctor. You falsely claim to not be the same you were before (physical transformation aside) but I'm truly not the man I was when I left. I kept the ability and dropped the major flaw I've had my entire life. Win or lose, that makes me significantly more dangerous.

Big Bossman Lane may have been specific with 'is words but I'm in this for victory. I'm in this for the good 'a the company in preventin' another push by BoB and kickin' off the crumblin' 'a their empire with the true 24/7 Briefcase. And goddammit Dock, my motivation here is the measure of a man who will face down any threat great or small and push 'imself beyond 'is own limits to accomplish what HAS to be done. I've been doin' it since we started.

There is no choice for me, this is an obligation to somethin' greater than ego, revenge, redemption... Greater than any man or woman. Greater than Dock 'imself.

Justice. The light. The right.

That gives me strength akin to a parent liftin' a truck off their child. And not only do I know the loss of one child I know the addition of another, born into a world of growing misery and corruption. I know the responsibility to do whatever in my power to provide a safer place for 'er in which to not only exist but to thrive as I know she can. I may be facin' a monumental task as one against the world in that regard but the XWF reaches millions...and it gives me the platform to set an example others will follow. To allow attempted MURDERERS and those like YOU Dock who would enable them to remain a threat is impossible. Stoppin' you, Oz and everyone else in the match gets me that much closer to stompin' out the flames 'a BoB. And if somethin' as seemingly insignificant as a wrestlin' match by comparison to the world at large gets the "good fight" merely an millimeter closer to tippin' the scales in favor of victory- and it does, one seed planted in the mind 'a the right viewer could be the catalyst for positive change -then I'll put my life on the line to achieve it.

I'm doin' this.

I'm doin' it for me, for Robert, for APEX, for Boss Lane and the XWF.

I'm doin' it for the world.

Fuck a smartass flip response, I'm doin' this for my daughter and every other kid and loving parent out there.

You and everyone else are gonna hafta quite literally kill me in the Leap of Faith to stop me.



Take your best fuckin' shot.




XXXFXOXRXXXTXHXEXXXHXEXRXOXEXSXXX

]]> <![CDATA[Morbid's Angels/If you're scared go to Church]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40959 Sat, 29 May 2021 22:40:20 -0700 Andre Dixon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40959
We are now getting closer and closer to Leap of Faith on the Moon. An event that many will remember for a very long time. An event that will feature one of the most insane cards ever put together. Every single title will be on the line. You have former Universal Champions fighting for the TV and Hart Titles. You have a massive Universal Title match where Robert Main will finally get his hands on Chris Page. You have the possibility of seeing a lot of new champions crowned and all of it done on the Moon. And on top of all that you will have the Leap of Faith match itself where you will see a lot of big dogs get in the ring for their chance at a briefcase of their own. You have people making comebacks like Jim Caedus to legends like Dock to guys who are considered to be the best in the world like Corey Smith all competing in one of the craziest matches ever put together and it will all be done on the Moon.

I don't think it would be possible to try and put together a better card than the one that will take place at Leap of Faith with such big matches and so much on the line. For me, it will be my very first TV Title defense and against none other than a former two-time Universal Champion in Morbid Angel. I may talk my shit but there is no way that I'm going to take Morbid lightly. I know that you don't just stumble into being Universal Champion and if you do you damn sure don't do it twice. The competition now may be better than it's ever been but that does not mean that Morbid Angel doesn't have what it takes to sneak up on me and take my belt away.

The thing is I'm locked the fuck in. And I just don't think that Morbid is. Not the way I am. He may want it, but there's no way he wants it more than I do. I plan on being one of the best Television Champions this company has ever seen and this is going to be a great way to get that started by getting a win over a former Universal Champion and number 12 on the XWF's Top 50 List.

First though. First I'm going to have a little bit of fun. I'm currently in Florida about to be at a place called Morbids Angels. Yeah I know...corny. But I found this place on google as a place that is supposed to have some of Morbids followers. I want to meet these freaks and see what they're all about. Of course, they are in Florida of all places. As I pull up to the address it feels like I have the wrong place as all I see is a small shack. This can't be a church, can it?

As I pull up I see three complete morons walk out and over towards the car. I expect them to be a little suspicious of a black guy out here. Especially if their anything like Morbid and probably haven't met many black people in their lives. I get out of the car and walk over to meet three of the dumbest people I've ever encountered. Only one of them ever really says anything.

"Is this Morbids Angels?"

Yeah, that's us.

I googled this place. I this one of Morbid Angels church's?

Yeah...well...kinda. We are Morbid's Angels.

So you guys worship Morbid?

That's right we do. We are Morbid's Angels.

Yeah, you said that already.

Yeah, but do you get it?

Get it?

I got it but man are these guys morons. This was probably a mistake.

You know...Morbid's Angels...kinda like Charlie's Angels...

Oh no, I get it...it's just pretty lame.

We're just like them!

They were three hot chicks though.

Yeah they were...

And you guys are just three ugly ass dudes.

His face gets kind of dejected as he realized that they were indeed just three ugly dudes.

Where's the church? This just looks like a trailer. And where are all the other followers?

Oh, it's just us here. We wanted to keep it just 3 of us because of the Charlie's Angels thing.

It's just you three here?

That's right. We hope to one day meet Morbid.

Wait you guys haven't even met him?

Well, technically he doesn't know who we are. We've sent him lots of letters, emails, tweets, but he still hasn't responded but we know he will.

So basically you guys are just fans?

No, we worship him. He is the best...

Well...I dunno about all that...

He's a former 2 time Universal Champion!

Yeah but that was almost a decade ago...

He's the number one wrestler ever in XWF History! There's a list and everything!

Well...he's 12 on the Top 50 and that doesn't even include the Hall of Legends. But close I guess...

He is a legend! And the best wrestler in XWF History!

Yeah, well that's just not true at all. Like none of that.

He used to the best! He was Universal Champion!

One of the quiet ones in the back chimes in.

YEAH! He used to be the best!

Yeah, but even if he was the best back then. That's a long ass time ago. How long have you guys been out here worshipping him?

He's about to be the best once again! He's gonna be the TV Champion at Leap of Faith!

YEAH! He's gonna beat that black guy. We all know black guys aren't championship material. No offense blackie.

None taken.

Well, we better go back inside and get ready for supper. We'd invite you in but I don't think Ma would let you eat with us. On account of you being black and all. No offense.

Again, none taken. You guys live out here with your mom?

Yeah, she's the one who told us about Morbid and made us the Morbid Angels. She's been a fan of his forever.

That makes sense. That motherfucker is old.

All of a sudden the door to the shack swings open and out comes a big, fat, old white woman walk out wearing her nightgown and carrying a shotgun which was enough for me to get my black ass right back in my car and drive off. I'm not getting my ass killed out here. Not before I get my ass to the Moon.

It's all fun and games but at Leap of Faith it's going to be my time to prove that I'm not a fluke. It's going to be my time to show that I am going to be the XWF Television Champion for a long time. Morbid Angel will be the first of many names that I beat on my way to becoming on of the best TV Champions this company has ever seen.

I've proven over the past few months that I belong in the XWF. Now it's time for me to start proving that I'm one of the best wrestlers the XWF has to offer. It doesn't matter who gets put in front of me. I am going to knock them all down one at a time. Leap of Faith is going to be one hell of a Pay Per View and I promise you that Andre Dixon will leave his mark on it. The scene fades to black.




Just when I thought Morbid Angel couldn't possibly disappoint me more than he already has this year, you go and disappoint me even more with that first promo. You gave me nothing to work with. Hell...you didn't even say my name. Not once. Hello? Your opponent here. You did know that you have a match at Leap of Faith for the fucking TV Title right?

And while you gave me nothing to work with I gave you plenty. Now that's where you should've come out, all big and bad, and tell me I need to watch my mouth. You then tell me all the great things you've done in the XWF and how you have nothing to prove. Especially to me. You're kind of a legend. Put me in my place dawg. I've only been here a few months bruh. Don't let me mushroom slap you like that and not even retaliate. I was hoping you would bring some heat with that second promo. I was hoping you would tell me to put some respect on your name. Tell me you're gonna kick my ass. Even if neither of us really believe it.

Just do SOMETHING Morbid...

[Image: 5bgjoe.jpg]

And right when I thought you were going to come out and do something big. Come out and make a statement and put me in my place. You come out with that second promo. You finally came out and talked your shit. I'm proud of you for that. You did it. Even if that shit talk was terrible at best and pretty fuckin' racist. Not much to say about me, huh? Gotta talk about black people, huh?

And to think I actually respected your ass before that promo. Now I see why you're such a has been. Is that really the best you've got?

Why did it sound like some shit a first grader would say at recess?

"You fuck your sister...oh and you're black!"

Really bruh? You fight one black dude and immediately take it there? I'll get to that bullshit later though. First, can we address how you think you've changed for the better since back when you were a Universal Champion? Mind explaining that one to us? Is it the part where you barely compete and when you do you're a shell of what you used to be? Or is it the part where you're nowhere near a Universal Title contender? Is that what makes you better now than when you were?

Even you had to convince yourself. You went from saying you used to be great to saying that you still are great but then backtracked to saying that you're pretty damn good. Or should I say that you would settle for being pretty damn good. Well, I'm sure your bum ass would. You're nowhere near being considered as pretty damn good. Not anymore at least. I didn't want to be the one to just break it to you like this but you're a bum. A nobody. A fuckin' loser. Don't believe me? Let's look back at your year a little bit.

On the May 5th Warfare you were given a shot at NEd Kaye and the HArt Title. A shot that you probably didn't deserve. What did you do with it? You dropped the ball and took an L to Ned. And while he's a good wrestler, I think I've proven that I'm better.

Then there was March Madness where you were given another title shot. This time a shot at Alias and the X-Treme Title. Obviously, you didn't win that one. I think we all know you're not on his level and that's not a knock on you. He's just that good. And you? Well if you used to be that good, you're not anymore. Moral of the story: another title shot, another loss. I'm kinda starting to see a pattern here. It's like they are trying to make you relevant again in any way possible and you just keep dropping the ball.

Then there was your match with Mastermind against Them No Good Bastards for a shot at becoming number one contenders for the tag titles. Another time you were given a shot at something you didn't deserve. No surprise here that you lost it as well. Taking a lot of L's my guy.

I was honestly wondering if you have even won a single match this year so I went back and looked and finally found you winning a match all the way back in February where you beat Barney Green in a match.

Didn't you tell me that it would be ignorant of me to think that they would throw me a gimmie match like Barney Green for my first title defense? The same Barney Green that is pretty much your only win this year? Damn bro. Did you just tell everyone that you can only win gimmie matches? Any time you've been put up against real competition your ass has been smoked. Damn bro...you can't even make that shit up. You're literally doing my job for me.

From hilarious comments like that to insanely racist comments like 99% of black people from Atlanta, GA think their the best shit ever. You know a lot of black people from Atlanta bro? My guess is you don't know a lot of black people period. You even went on to say that I'm arrogant and ignorant. The irony there is through the roof. Imagine you thinking that I'M the ignorant one. You claim 95% of all black people believe in Jesus, and worship him. Where'd you pull that number from my guy? You out polling the blacks? Is that why you can't win shit in the ring because you're doing God's work by finding out all these great statistics about black people?

Oh and as far as your steroid comment goes. Naw fam. I've never touched any steroids, HGH, none of that shit. I'm au natural my guy. I know it's hard to believe for someone like you who needs the stuff but I don't and never have. I would never put that shit in my body. Everything I've got I've gotten from hard fuckin' work. You claim that everyone does steroids and then claim that means I also do steroids. That's a cap. It's funny to me that you just think everyone is on the shit and even worse so that you think everyone needs it. There's plenty of athletes in the world who become great WITHOUT steroids. And me? I'm a natural fuckin' athlete.

I appreciate the compliment though. I know I look jacked. I know I look good. I know I look like I'm probably on that shit.

Then you went on to tell me to get some new material and then yourself came out with the same old shit that everyone else says about me joining B.o.B. I know that you get that winning is tough. Because...for you...it is tough. For me though? Line them up and I'll put them down. Go back and watch EVERY single one of my matches and tell me ONE time where I needed B.o.B.'s help to win the match? Even one. You can't because I do this shit by my damn self. Do I have their back? You're god damn right I do. Do I need them to win? Never have, never will.

Look...you've done a lot in this business and in the XWF and I do respect that. I respect the list of names you've beaten. I respect your title history. I respect all of that. That's why when I saw this was my match for Leap of Faith I was excited. I'm always up for beating a top 50 wrestler. As many as I can beat I'm going to beat. But I don't respect you. Not anymore at least. Because how great is Morbid Angel really?

You're number 12 on the Top 50 list. Which normally would be insanely good. But your case is a little different. You're a two-time Universal Champion. This means there are people above you on the list who never even held the belt. Think about that for a second. Are you great or were you just lucky? I'm starting to think it was the latter.

And I'm sorry to be the one to break this shit to you like this. I don't get my jollies by shitting on old men like yourself and pointing out how overrated you are. Oh wait... that is what gets me going, isn't it? But love me or hate me you know that I'm going to come out here and give you that raw, uncut shit. I'm not going to sugarcoat it no matter who you are and what you've done. I'm not going to respect you for things you've done in the past when you currently ain't shit.

The truth is Morbid Angel was lucky to be here in the era he was. Because now? Now he has more than proven that he's not one of the best wrestlers here. Not even close. He's proven time after time that he's not championship material anymore and at Leap of Faith he's going to prove it again except this time it's going to be on the Moon. I'm about to show everyone why I'm the FUTURE of this company and why Morbid is the PAST.

I'm gonna end this with some lyrics from one of my favorite rappers of all time in Ice Cube that pretty much sums up this match for me.

If you a scared motherfucker go to church (GO TO CHURCH)
If you a gutter motherfucker do your dirt (A DO YOUR DIRT)
If you a down motherfucker put in work (A PUT IN WORK)
IF you a crazy motherfucker go berzerk (A GO BERZERK!)


You see I'm a crazy, down, gutter motherfucker, and I'm about to go berserk when I put in this work and put you in the dirt. You? You're a scared motherfucker and I'm about to send your ass to church...
]]>
We are now getting closer and closer to Leap of Faith on the Moon. An event that many will remember for a very long time. An event that will feature one of the most insane cards ever put together. Every single title will be on the line. You have former Universal Champions fighting for the TV and Hart Titles. You have a massive Universal Title match where Robert Main will finally get his hands on Chris Page. You have the possibility of seeing a lot of new champions crowned and all of it done on the Moon. And on top of all that you will have the Leap of Faith match itself where you will see a lot of big dogs get in the ring for their chance at a briefcase of their own. You have people making comebacks like Jim Caedus to legends like Dock to guys who are considered to be the best in the world like Corey Smith all competing in one of the craziest matches ever put together and it will all be done on the Moon.

I don't think it would be possible to try and put together a better card than the one that will take place at Leap of Faith with such big matches and so much on the line. For me, it will be my very first TV Title defense and against none other than a former two-time Universal Champion in Morbid Angel. I may talk my shit but there is no way that I'm going to take Morbid lightly. I know that you don't just stumble into being Universal Champion and if you do you damn sure don't do it twice. The competition now may be better than it's ever been but that does not mean that Morbid Angel doesn't have what it takes to sneak up on me and take my belt away.

The thing is I'm locked the fuck in. And I just don't think that Morbid is. Not the way I am. He may want it, but there's no way he wants it more than I do. I plan on being one of the best Television Champions this company has ever seen and this is going to be a great way to get that started by getting a win over a former Universal Champion and number 12 on the XWF's Top 50 List.

First though. First I'm going to have a little bit of fun. I'm currently in Florida about to be at a place called Morbids Angels. Yeah I know...corny. But I found this place on google as a place that is supposed to have some of Morbids followers. I want to meet these freaks and see what they're all about. Of course, they are in Florida of all places. As I pull up to the address it feels like I have the wrong place as all I see is a small shack. This can't be a church, can it?

As I pull up I see three complete morons walk out and over towards the car. I expect them to be a little suspicious of a black guy out here. Especially if their anything like Morbid and probably haven't met many black people in their lives. I get out of the car and walk over to meet three of the dumbest people I've ever encountered. Only one of them ever really says anything.

"Is this Morbids Angels?"

Yeah, that's us.

I googled this place. I this one of Morbid Angels church's?

Yeah...well...kinda. We are Morbid's Angels.

So you guys worship Morbid?

That's right we do. We are Morbid's Angels.

Yeah, you said that already.

Yeah, but do you get it?

Get it?

I got it but man are these guys morons. This was probably a mistake.

You know...Morbid's Angels...kinda like Charlie's Angels...

Oh no, I get it...it's just pretty lame.

We're just like them!

They were three hot chicks though.

Yeah they were...

And you guys are just three ugly ass dudes.

His face gets kind of dejected as he realized that they were indeed just three ugly dudes.

Where's the church? This just looks like a trailer. And where are all the other followers?

Oh, it's just us here. We wanted to keep it just 3 of us because of the Charlie's Angels thing.

It's just you three here?

That's right. We hope to one day meet Morbid.

Wait you guys haven't even met him?

Well, technically he doesn't know who we are. We've sent him lots of letters, emails, tweets, but he still hasn't responded but we know he will.

So basically you guys are just fans?

No, we worship him. He is the best...

Well...I dunno about all that...

He's a former 2 time Universal Champion!

Yeah but that was almost a decade ago...

He's the number one wrestler ever in XWF History! There's a list and everything!

Well...he's 12 on the Top 50 and that doesn't even include the Hall of Legends. But close I guess...

He is a legend! And the best wrestler in XWF History!

Yeah, well that's just not true at all. Like none of that.

He used to the best! He was Universal Champion!

One of the quiet ones in the back chimes in.

YEAH! He used to be the best!

Yeah, but even if he was the best back then. That's a long ass time ago. How long have you guys been out here worshipping him?

He's about to be the best once again! He's gonna be the TV Champion at Leap of Faith!

YEAH! He's gonna beat that black guy. We all know black guys aren't championship material. No offense blackie.

None taken.

Well, we better go back inside and get ready for supper. We'd invite you in but I don't think Ma would let you eat with us. On account of you being black and all. No offense.

Again, none taken. You guys live out here with your mom?

Yeah, she's the one who told us about Morbid and made us the Morbid Angels. She's been a fan of his forever.

That makes sense. That motherfucker is old.

All of a sudden the door to the shack swings open and out comes a big, fat, old white woman walk out wearing her nightgown and carrying a shotgun which was enough for me to get my black ass right back in my car and drive off. I'm not getting my ass killed out here. Not before I get my ass to the Moon.

It's all fun and games but at Leap of Faith it's going to be my time to prove that I'm not a fluke. It's going to be my time to show that I am going to be the XWF Television Champion for a long time. Morbid Angel will be the first of many names that I beat on my way to becoming on of the best TV Champions this company has ever seen.

I've proven over the past few months that I belong in the XWF. Now it's time for me to start proving that I'm one of the best wrestlers the XWF has to offer. It doesn't matter who gets put in front of me. I am going to knock them all down one at a time. Leap of Faith is going to be one hell of a Pay Per View and I promise you that Andre Dixon will leave his mark on it. The scene fades to black.




Just when I thought Morbid Angel couldn't possibly disappoint me more than he already has this year, you go and disappoint me even more with that first promo. You gave me nothing to work with. Hell...you didn't even say my name. Not once. Hello? Your opponent here. You did know that you have a match at Leap of Faith for the fucking TV Title right?

And while you gave me nothing to work with I gave you plenty. Now that's where you should've come out, all big and bad, and tell me I need to watch my mouth. You then tell me all the great things you've done in the XWF and how you have nothing to prove. Especially to me. You're kind of a legend. Put me in my place dawg. I've only been here a few months bruh. Don't let me mushroom slap you like that and not even retaliate. I was hoping you would bring some heat with that second promo. I was hoping you would tell me to put some respect on your name. Tell me you're gonna kick my ass. Even if neither of us really believe it.

Just do SOMETHING Morbid...

[Image: 5bgjoe.jpg]

And right when I thought you were going to come out and do something big. Come out and make a statement and put me in my place. You come out with that second promo. You finally came out and talked your shit. I'm proud of you for that. You did it. Even if that shit talk was terrible at best and pretty fuckin' racist. Not much to say about me, huh? Gotta talk about black people, huh?

And to think I actually respected your ass before that promo. Now I see why you're such a has been. Is that really the best you've got?

Why did it sound like some shit a first grader would say at recess?

"You fuck your sister...oh and you're black!"

Really bruh? You fight one black dude and immediately take it there? I'll get to that bullshit later though. First, can we address how you think you've changed for the better since back when you were a Universal Champion? Mind explaining that one to us? Is it the part where you barely compete and when you do you're a shell of what you used to be? Or is it the part where you're nowhere near a Universal Title contender? Is that what makes you better now than when you were?

Even you had to convince yourself. You went from saying you used to be great to saying that you still are great but then backtracked to saying that you're pretty damn good. Or should I say that you would settle for being pretty damn good. Well, I'm sure your bum ass would. You're nowhere near being considered as pretty damn good. Not anymore at least. I didn't want to be the one to just break it to you like this but you're a bum. A nobody. A fuckin' loser. Don't believe me? Let's look back at your year a little bit.

On the May 5th Warfare you were given a shot at NEd Kaye and the HArt Title. A shot that you probably didn't deserve. What did you do with it? You dropped the ball and took an L to Ned. And while he's a good wrestler, I think I've proven that I'm better.

Then there was March Madness where you were given another title shot. This time a shot at Alias and the X-Treme Title. Obviously, you didn't win that one. I think we all know you're not on his level and that's not a knock on you. He's just that good. And you? Well if you used to be that good, you're not anymore. Moral of the story: another title shot, another loss. I'm kinda starting to see a pattern here. It's like they are trying to make you relevant again in any way possible and you just keep dropping the ball.

Then there was your match with Mastermind against Them No Good Bastards for a shot at becoming number one contenders for the tag titles. Another time you were given a shot at something you didn't deserve. No surprise here that you lost it as well. Taking a lot of L's my guy.

I was honestly wondering if you have even won a single match this year so I went back and looked and finally found you winning a match all the way back in February where you beat Barney Green in a match.

Didn't you tell me that it would be ignorant of me to think that they would throw me a gimmie match like Barney Green for my first title defense? The same Barney Green that is pretty much your only win this year? Damn bro. Did you just tell everyone that you can only win gimmie matches? Any time you've been put up against real competition your ass has been smoked. Damn bro...you can't even make that shit up. You're literally doing my job for me.

From hilarious comments like that to insanely racist comments like 99% of black people from Atlanta, GA think their the best shit ever. You know a lot of black people from Atlanta bro? My guess is you don't know a lot of black people period. You even went on to say that I'm arrogant and ignorant. The irony there is through the roof. Imagine you thinking that I'M the ignorant one. You claim 95% of all black people believe in Jesus, and worship him. Where'd you pull that number from my guy? You out polling the blacks? Is that why you can't win shit in the ring because you're doing God's work by finding out all these great statistics about black people?

Oh and as far as your steroid comment goes. Naw fam. I've never touched any steroids, HGH, none of that shit. I'm au natural my guy. I know it's hard to believe for someone like you who needs the stuff but I don't and never have. I would never put that shit in my body. Everything I've got I've gotten from hard fuckin' work. You claim that everyone does steroids and then claim that means I also do steroids. That's a cap. It's funny to me that you just think everyone is on the shit and even worse so that you think everyone needs it. There's plenty of athletes in the world who become great WITHOUT steroids. And me? I'm a natural fuckin' athlete.

I appreciate the compliment though. I know I look jacked. I know I look good. I know I look like I'm probably on that shit.

Then you went on to tell me to get some new material and then yourself came out with the same old shit that everyone else says about me joining B.o.B. I know that you get that winning is tough. Because...for you...it is tough. For me though? Line them up and I'll put them down. Go back and watch EVERY single one of my matches and tell me ONE time where I needed B.o.B.'s help to win the match? Even one. You can't because I do this shit by my damn self. Do I have their back? You're god damn right I do. Do I need them to win? Never have, never will.

Look...you've done a lot in this business and in the XWF and I do respect that. I respect the list of names you've beaten. I respect your title history. I respect all of that. That's why when I saw this was my match for Leap of Faith I was excited. I'm always up for beating a top 50 wrestler. As many as I can beat I'm going to beat. But I don't respect you. Not anymore at least. Because how great is Morbid Angel really?

You're number 12 on the Top 50 list. Which normally would be insanely good. But your case is a little different. You're a two-time Universal Champion. This means there are people above you on the list who never even held the belt. Think about that for a second. Are you great or were you just lucky? I'm starting to think it was the latter.

And I'm sorry to be the one to break this shit to you like this. I don't get my jollies by shitting on old men like yourself and pointing out how overrated you are. Oh wait... that is what gets me going, isn't it? But love me or hate me you know that I'm going to come out here and give you that raw, uncut shit. I'm not going to sugarcoat it no matter who you are and what you've done. I'm not going to respect you for things you've done in the past when you currently ain't shit.

The truth is Morbid Angel was lucky to be here in the era he was. Because now? Now he has more than proven that he's not one of the best wrestlers here. Not even close. He's proven time after time that he's not championship material anymore and at Leap of Faith he's going to prove it again except this time it's going to be on the Moon. I'm about to show everyone why I'm the FUTURE of this company and why Morbid is the PAST.

I'm gonna end this with some lyrics from one of my favorite rappers of all time in Ice Cube that pretty much sums up this match for me.

If you a scared motherfucker go to church (GO TO CHURCH)
If you a gutter motherfucker do your dirt (A DO YOUR DIRT)
If you a down motherfucker put in work (A PUT IN WORK)
IF you a crazy motherfucker go berzerk (A GO BERZERK!)


You see I'm a crazy, down, gutter motherfucker, and I'm about to go berserk when I put in this work and put you in the dirt. You? You're a scared motherfucker and I'm about to send your ass to church...
]]> <![CDATA[THE MASTER SESSION: Part 4: Final Session]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40958 Sat, 29 May 2021 22:39:59 -0700 Prof. Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40958 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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It's that magical time when at the end of the symposium, a judgment of the smack talk must commence, to determine who makes the grade and who needs a remedial course. No, we’re not talking about the pre-match promos for Leap of Faith, some other poor schmuck has that duty.

THE MASTER SESSION: part 4: final session

Okay, guys, it's time to discuss the final lesson, which requires the most finesse of all. Breaking the fourth wall.

Bobby sips from a Starbucks cup, foregoing the coffee offered in the room.

This is just asking for trouble.

TK begins to grin sadistically, just like a super-dicked legend he once knew.

I’m for it. Continue Bobby.

Bobby nods and sets his coffee down. As he does, Delores raises her voice.

Wait, a fourth wall?

Hushabee. As a Bourbon Bastard Man you don't get to interject all willy-nilly anymore, it's not one of your character traits, plus you're still in the class.

Yep. Let the big man talk.

Big men. This is more than just Bobby now, this is TNGB time!

Shit, you don't need to feed TK's ego anymore, he'll get ego obese!

TK hauls off and slaps Jimmy the hardest he’s ever slapped him before. Jimmy falls to the ground holding the right side of his face with a tear in his eye.

Damn, he slapped you so hard his mullet looks good!

TK looks at Cyberjaw, who has just slighted him, and gives him a high five. Jimmy looks utterly dejected.

Now, as I was saying, breaking the fourth wall requires finesse. You can't just force it down someone's throat like they're reading a transcript of your entire promo on the internet. It must be nuanced. Look at what some of the other fools in wrestling history. Gabe Reno Jim Caedus went and said nothing but kind things about Ozzy, one of the founding members of BOB, after Caedus came back to destroy BOB with ole' Knuckleball Head himself, Robert Main. And that's because he's a delusional twit who can't tell real from unreal and lives in his own land of make-believe. TK will now show how to break the fourth wall using the utmost finesse.

Bobby sips his coffee and glances towards TK. TK holds out his hand and Jimmy gives him a notebook. TK pulls out the blue pen from the notebook’s spiraled binding. TK begins two writes on a sheet of paper, he rips the page from the notebook and holds it up for the camera to see. The piece of paper reads “You all fucking suck at this! Stop trying!”.

[Image: QRUqLrj.png]


The assembly in front of Them No Good Bastards all lean forward to try to catch a glimpse of what TK held up, but since that part was meant for the cameras and not them, their loss.

Excellent work, Mr. Knuckles. Now, before we move on to the final exams, we want to thank all of you for listening to our SHIT talk, and I hope you have found all of this to be a valuable use of your time.

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We cut to see Theo Price, seated at his fine cherry desk with the platinum inlay. A desk which probably costs more than most people's homes. He's intently watching the TNGB SHIT Talk Seminar, only on BOBTube, while taking notes. Specifically, written on one page, are the words "You all fucking suck at this! Stop trying!”

Aha! Finally, the ultimate line in all of smack talk! Now I can get jabs in at Vinnie when we play Pickleball!

As Theo says this, a Thai ladyboy pokes their head out from under the desk.

Huh?

Theo pushes the ladyboy's head back down under the desk.

No talky, Chaem Choi, that wood ain't spit-shining itself.

Theo bites his lower lips as his eyes widen, though probably not because he's unlocking the secrets to insulting his peers at Pickleball.

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We come back to the classroom where Jimmy is walking around, handing out pieces of paper to the attendees.

Okay, folks, these are going to be your final exams. Now, we will be grading on a curve, I think. How are we grading the exams again?

You guys fucking have 30 minutes to complete the scenarios on your worksheet. When the timer goes off put your goddamn pens down and Jimmy will collect your worksheets. Then we go to fucking lunch.

Uh, yeah, you guys are welcome to try out whatever is in the vending machines.

While we’re having porterhouse steaks, Jimmy is going to be looking over your work. The important ones will make it to us, and we’ll see who passes and fucking fails.

Delores looks confused.

This is a Denny's placemat!

You watch that mouth of yours, Delores.


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TK and Bobby are at the local Outback Steakhouse having a meal. Both men have large steaks in front of them. Bobby is noshing on coconut shrimp as well.

Jesus Christ, Bobby! I can't. Just fucking can't!

What can't you do?

Talk about these fucking guys anymore. They’re-

Bobby cuts TK as he holds out his hand and rolls his eyes.

Yes, you can, just start out slow.

TK sighs and throws up his hands.

Fine.

Disgruntled TK utters a one-liner.

The Disinfectants are the by-product of if cancer raped aids.

Bobby looks shocked that this is TK taking it slow.

Woah! I said slow, like this. Marf and Lycana are the by-products of if diarrhea had babies with a toothache. Halitosis, whatever comes out of their mouth stinks.

TK shakes his head as if he understands.

Oh, okay, so like, Lycaena is kinda like Rapunzel except instead of letting down her hair, she's letting down everyone in your life. Which is mostly just Marf.

Don’t forget that new guy Thrax.

TK gives a nonchalant jerking-off hand gesture while rolling his eyes.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. On the bright side, Bobby. Lycana, has one thing going for her though. I mean, anyone who would fuck Cuckleberry Finn, Marf Swanson, ain’t worth fucking. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles has more dick in his personality than Marf does in his pants. These two fucking jackoffs are shittier than even I tell people.

I think it’s Swayson, TK.

TK shrugs.

You know, like I know, no one gives a fuck. Honestly, if we wanted any shit out of them. We’d pull our dicks out their mouth and let them talk. Plus they're going to say we don't know what we're talking about. Probably point out shit no one gives a fuck about anyway.

TK pulls out a milk bone from his suit's inner coat pocket, tosses it, and continues.

Go and fucking get it, while you're at it, tear each other in the process.

TK has a cocky smile, Bobby is scratching his head.

Why did you have a milk bone in your pocket?

TK looks over at Bobby.

Man, you know how many fucking times I've been somewhere I shouldn't have and ran into a big ass fucking dog?

Good point. Y'know, Marf may be a cuck, but I don't think he sees that as an insult. That seems to be his thing. Maybe he's happiest being a loser. Maybe he likes living vicariously just watching the success of others. Think about it, TK, when he's watching someone sex up Lycana, he's imagining having a dick that big and hard instead of a baby penis he has to convince to play the game when it's go time. When he watches us, he's imagining he's a fucking legend in this business, a part of the best team ever, all because it's a distraction from his reality; sitting on his bed and masturbating while his mom makes him a grilled cheese for lunch. Fucking himself because when he's alone he feels like his dick is big.

Bobby quafs from his glass of water. A slight trickle cascades down his chin. He raises his left arm up and wipes off his mug with the back of his forearm.

Then we got Lycana, and if we call her a bitch, does she really see that as an insult? Sure, she reminds me of an Evanescence ticket stub stuffed under a pile of Hot Topic receipts, but that's just on paper. Now, while you're fulfilling the role of token vibrant dye-job body mod chicken supremely here in the XWF, we're breaking the mold. Look around, search far and wide, you won't find anything that compares to Them No Good Bastards. You are taking the fight to Alias, and honestly, you're leaving him shredded like wheat and wasted like a Marf title run. Alias is a legit threat in this company, let alone the business. Us, though? We're fucking unreal compared to him. Alias is a man you'll, most likely, beat for a championship he's held for months. We, on the other hand, are your white whale, hailing from the second star to the right and straight-on-'til-morning, armed with the One Ring of Mordor, riding fucking Decepticons into the battle of Endor. Beating us isn't a fantasy for you, it's a fever dream of a fairy tale, and while you and your big bad wolf of a partner think you're headed to the promised land of granny's house, you've really made a wrong turn into Camp Crystal Lake on Friday the 13th. Mystical? Mysterious? Sure, you got that in spades, but darlin', we're TNGB, and hic sunt dracones.

Sick Cunt Phonies?

They sure are. Now, I know what we've been saying is disrespectful, kinda mean, and downright dirty.

Bobby and TK clack their championship belts, which they must have been holding under the table at Outback.

That's just how we do. Thing is, don't take it personally, we'd be wrecking any set of fools at Leap of Faith. As much as we'd like to say we'd face you again down the line, well, we're pretty sure the XWF Universe expects us to have actual competition. Not to say the two of you aren't talented…

I'll say it, you aren't talented.

Bobby points at TK like he hit a mark.

The whole world saw you think there's some kind of pecking order within BOB, and thems just the mental scars of being in the Left Hand, thinking someone must be high and low on the totem pole. It's why Marf gets left henpecked and follows the lead of Lycana, which isn't a team, it's a leader and their henchman. That isn't cohesion, that's one pulling another along. Me and TK? We're equals, through and through, and have no Gods and masters past ourselves. We each man the helm of our own destiny. I don't have to do any heavy lifting, TK doesn't pick up the slack, we each build off each other like none other. TNGB, as is plain to see, keeping the tag division on lock because it makes us feel free. A duo so automatic you'd think we're Burt and Ernie, so play along to our song, modern-day Cheech and Chong, being the best as the day is long. Now I'm certain our match will be chock full-o'-suspense, that lower gravity makes breaking glass tables harder, I sense. But the solution is so simple, unless you're that dense. No pane can stand the pain of a Rainbow Laser Death Sequence.

Bobby and TK exchange a no-look fistbump.

I guess this was a working lunch because I just rocked the mic right.

TK finishes his plate of food while Bobby finishes up with what he was saying. Before talking he takes a swig of his beer.

You know, Bobby, Marf's talking about how the Disinfectants crushed and smashed those b minus tag teams to the ground.

And Lycana is bringing up shit Dixon said when he beat Marf for fucks sakes. Jesus, these two are good, they have promise, and they're a hell of a squad, but the thing is, the ones winning and retaining the Tag Titles are a fucking team. Marf even thinks that's something to pass off as a weakness, that we work together! Lycana just went and spewed the same "spooky bitch" hogwash, about painting with blood. Well, master edgelord, maybe if you reigned in your partner a little better, enforced that pecking order, you'd have a chance. Instead, well, your routine that worked against others just fizzled, crashed, and burned on re-entry.

He also fucking said while we, Them No Good Bastards, were sitting front row watching. Are you sure Marf doesn't have fucking brain damage? What is it with the XWF handing us teams with the goddamned disabled? First MasterMind, now Marf. Must be a thing if your name starts with a goddamn M you have to be challenged? Anyway, we were sitting at the commentary desk. Doing... You know... Commentary. What a fucking idiot. Then you got Lycana who's whole fucking life is so goddamn convo-fucking-luted she doesn't even remember what she said at MayDay. Don't believe me, suffer through her fucking promo's yourself, you'll see it. Seriously, Cameraman shut that thing the fuck off. They're fucking repeating to repeat themselves. Bobby is doing that step we skipped in the class about sportsmanship. This squad fucking blows. End of fucking story.


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Back in the room where the class/seminar is being held, we see TK and Bobby standing at the head of the class.

Well, Eddie has finished grading your papers…

My name is Jimmy!

Whatever. Anyhow, we have some stand-outs we'd like to bring to the front of the room to give the appropriate recognition to.

When I call your fucking name, come up.

TK looks at a small list that's been handed to him by Jimmy.

Zip Nuggetporn!

A man in overalls and a raccoon skin hat beams as he stands and makes his way to the front of the room. Bobby shakes his hand.

Stand over there.

Bobby points off to the other side of TK.

Nedward Kayne!

A man who looks suspiciously like Ned Kaye, down to the ring gear, with the exception of what looks like a large false mustache, makes his way to the front of the room. Bobby shakes his hand.

Good work.

Nedward makes his way beside Zip Nuggetporn.

Georgia Souptits!

A woman dressed in a poodle skirt and sweater, like an extra from Grease, stands and makes her way to the front of the room. Bobby shakes her hand.

You did very well!

Delores Blumpkins!

I’m fucking coming.

Delores stands up and makes her way to the front. She brusquely passes by Bobby and stands with the others.

Finally, and this doesn't come as a goddamn surprise considering how much he has contributed to this room, the unforgettable Rusty Jerkins Cockwash!

A man in a bright pastel yellow tuxedo stands. He does the Macarena in celebration and then walks to the front of the class. Bobby shakes his hand.

Attaboy!

Rusty stands with the rest of the stand-outs from the class.

You fucking guys deserve this credit!

Alright. The five of you, repeat after me. I, state your name.

Everyone but Delores repeats after Bobby.

"I, state your name."

Do hereby pledge allegiance to smack talk.

"Do hereby pledge allegiance to smack talk."

With liberty and bastardry for all.

"Amen."

Bobby steps forward with a large brown bag. He walks up to Rusty. He pulls out a small plastic card.

Rusty, here is the used Outback Steakhouse gift card that paid for our lunch. There’s like six dollars and change left on it. We bequeath the title Head Honcho of Trash on you.

Rusty waves at the camera. Bobby moves on to Georgia.

Georgia, here is a pack of gum we found in the room when we were setting up. Your smack talker title is Fresh Diss-tracker.

Georgia blushes as she accepts her reward. Bobby approaches Zip.

Zip, you did the worst out of anyone in terms of smack talk. You have earned the title of Robert Main. Shame.

Zip looks sad as he walks back to his seat. TK flips him off behind his back. Bobby shakes his head in disappointment then moves over to Delores.

Delores, we're really proud of how you did. From now on, you are the Bellows. Here, take this.

Bobby pulls a can of Dr. Thunder out of the bag and hands it to Delores.

'Bout fucking time.

Bobby approaches Nedward.

Bud, I already handed you the Hart Championship on a silver platter it feels like, so we're not giving you anything else. However, we've given this a lot of thought. From now on, your name is Flounder.

Flounder?

Everybody in the room begins to shout and celebrate as Louie, Louie starts to play.

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Alright, fuckers, as you leave you'll be handed your diplomas or lack-there-fucking-of.

TK couldn't be heard over the music or the celebrating class. Bobby's dancing with the other Bastard Men, which now includes Jimmy.

Ah, fuck it! Who cares!

TK begins dancing with Bobby, the rest of the class, and the Bastard Men. The scene fades to commercial as the tag team champions doing what they do best. Having fun.


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Jimmy is shoved into the frame but he plays it off as cool, as he can.

Hi, I'm Jimmy Janowski, Thunder Knuckles' head trainer. Have you ever wondered how to talk trash as good as Them No Good Bastards?


[Image: SaDdg4t.png]




Well, wait no longer with this three-disk DVD box set, or two-disk ultimate collectors edition Bluray, with exclusive behind the scene footage! Don't delay! Act now and get yours today!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
]]> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

It's that magical time when at the end of the symposium, a judgment of the smack talk must commence, to determine who makes the grade and who needs a remedial course. No, we’re not talking about the pre-match promos for Leap of Faith, some other poor schmuck has that duty.

THE MASTER SESSION: part 4: final session

Okay, guys, it's time to discuss the final lesson, which requires the most finesse of all. Breaking the fourth wall.

Bobby sips from a Starbucks cup, foregoing the coffee offered in the room.

This is just asking for trouble.

TK begins to grin sadistically, just like a super-dicked legend he once knew.

I’m for it. Continue Bobby.

Bobby nods and sets his coffee down. As he does, Delores raises her voice.

Wait, a fourth wall?

Hushabee. As a Bourbon Bastard Man you don't get to interject all willy-nilly anymore, it's not one of your character traits, plus you're still in the class.

Yep. Let the big man talk.

Big men. This is more than just Bobby now, this is TNGB time!

Shit, you don't need to feed TK's ego anymore, he'll get ego obese!

TK hauls off and slaps Jimmy the hardest he’s ever slapped him before. Jimmy falls to the ground holding the right side of his face with a tear in his eye.

Damn, he slapped you so hard his mullet looks good!

TK looks at Cyberjaw, who has just slighted him, and gives him a high five. Jimmy looks utterly dejected.

Now, as I was saying, breaking the fourth wall requires finesse. You can't just force it down someone's throat like they're reading a transcript of your entire promo on the internet. It must be nuanced. Look at what some of the other fools in wrestling history. Gabe Reno Jim Caedus went and said nothing but kind things about Ozzy, one of the founding members of BOB, after Caedus came back to destroy BOB with ole' Knuckleball Head himself, Robert Main. And that's because he's a delusional twit who can't tell real from unreal and lives in his own land of make-believe. TK will now show how to break the fourth wall using the utmost finesse.

Bobby sips his coffee and glances towards TK. TK holds out his hand and Jimmy gives him a notebook. TK pulls out the blue pen from the notebook’s spiraled binding. TK begins two writes on a sheet of paper, he rips the page from the notebook and holds it up for the camera to see. The piece of paper reads “You all fucking suck at this! Stop trying!”.

[Image: QRUqLrj.png]


The assembly in front of Them No Good Bastards all lean forward to try to catch a glimpse of what TK held up, but since that part was meant for the cameras and not them, their loss.

Excellent work, Mr. Knuckles. Now, before we move on to the final exams, we want to thank all of you for listening to our SHIT talk, and I hope you have found all of this to be a valuable use of your time.

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

We cut to see Theo Price, seated at his fine cherry desk with the platinum inlay. A desk which probably costs more than most people's homes. He's intently watching the TNGB SHIT Talk Seminar, only on BOBTube, while taking notes. Specifically, written on one page, are the words "You all fucking suck at this! Stop trying!”

Aha! Finally, the ultimate line in all of smack talk! Now I can get jabs in at Vinnie when we play Pickleball!

As Theo says this, a Thai ladyboy pokes their head out from under the desk.

Huh?

Theo pushes the ladyboy's head back down under the desk.

No talky, Chaem Choi, that wood ain't spit-shining itself.

Theo bites his lower lips as his eyes widen, though probably not because he's unlocking the secrets to insulting his peers at Pickleball.

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

We come back to the classroom where Jimmy is walking around, handing out pieces of paper to the attendees.

Okay, folks, these are going to be your final exams. Now, we will be grading on a curve, I think. How are we grading the exams again?

You guys fucking have 30 minutes to complete the scenarios on your worksheet. When the timer goes off put your goddamn pens down and Jimmy will collect your worksheets. Then we go to fucking lunch.

Uh, yeah, you guys are welcome to try out whatever is in the vending machines.

While we’re having porterhouse steaks, Jimmy is going to be looking over your work. The important ones will make it to us, and we’ll see who passes and fucking fails.

Delores looks confused.

This is a Denny's placemat!

You watch that mouth of yours, Delores.


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

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


TK and Bobby are at the local Outback Steakhouse having a meal. Both men have large steaks in front of them. Bobby is noshing on coconut shrimp as well.

Jesus Christ, Bobby! I can't. Just fucking can't!

What can't you do?

Talk about these fucking guys anymore. They’re-

Bobby cuts TK as he holds out his hand and rolls his eyes.

Yes, you can, just start out slow.

TK sighs and throws up his hands.

Fine.

Disgruntled TK utters a one-liner.

The Disinfectants are the by-product of if cancer raped aids.

Bobby looks shocked that this is TK taking it slow.

Woah! I said slow, like this. Marf and Lycana are the by-products of if diarrhea had babies with a toothache. Halitosis, whatever comes out of their mouth stinks.

TK shakes his head as if he understands.

Oh, okay, so like, Lycaena is kinda like Rapunzel except instead of letting down her hair, she's letting down everyone in your life. Which is mostly just Marf.

Don’t forget that new guy Thrax.

TK gives a nonchalant jerking-off hand gesture while rolling his eyes.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. On the bright side, Bobby. Lycana, has one thing going for her though. I mean, anyone who would fuck Cuckleberry Finn, Marf Swanson, ain’t worth fucking. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles has more dick in his personality than Marf does in his pants. These two fucking jackoffs are shittier than even I tell people.

I think it’s Swayson, TK.

TK shrugs.

You know, like I know, no one gives a fuck. Honestly, if we wanted any shit out of them. We’d pull our dicks out their mouth and let them talk. Plus they're going to say we don't know what we're talking about. Probably point out shit no one gives a fuck about anyway.

TK pulls out a milk bone from his suit's inner coat pocket, tosses it, and continues.

Go and fucking get it, while you're at it, tear each other in the process.

TK has a cocky smile, Bobby is scratching his head.

Why did you have a milk bone in your pocket?

TK looks over at Bobby.

Man, you know how many fucking times I've been somewhere I shouldn't have and ran into a big ass fucking dog?

Good point. Y'know, Marf may be a cuck, but I don't think he sees that as an insult. That seems to be his thing. Maybe he's happiest being a loser. Maybe he likes living vicariously just watching the success of others. Think about it, TK, when he's watching someone sex up Lycana, he's imagining having a dick that big and hard instead of a baby penis he has to convince to play the game when it's go time. When he watches us, he's imagining he's a fucking legend in this business, a part of the best team ever, all because it's a distraction from his reality; sitting on his bed and masturbating while his mom makes him a grilled cheese for lunch. Fucking himself because when he's alone he feels like his dick is big.

Bobby quafs from his glass of water. A slight trickle cascades down his chin. He raises his left arm up and wipes off his mug with the back of his forearm.

Then we got Lycana, and if we call her a bitch, does she really see that as an insult? Sure, she reminds me of an Evanescence ticket stub stuffed under a pile of Hot Topic receipts, but that's just on paper. Now, while you're fulfilling the role of token vibrant dye-job body mod chicken supremely here in the XWF, we're breaking the mold. Look around, search far and wide, you won't find anything that compares to Them No Good Bastards. You are taking the fight to Alias, and honestly, you're leaving him shredded like wheat and wasted like a Marf title run. Alias is a legit threat in this company, let alone the business. Us, though? We're fucking unreal compared to him. Alias is a man you'll, most likely, beat for a championship he's held for months. We, on the other hand, are your white whale, hailing from the second star to the right and straight-on-'til-morning, armed with the One Ring of Mordor, riding fucking Decepticons into the battle of Endor. Beating us isn't a fantasy for you, it's a fever dream of a fairy tale, and while you and your big bad wolf of a partner think you're headed to the promised land of granny's house, you've really made a wrong turn into Camp Crystal Lake on Friday the 13th. Mystical? Mysterious? Sure, you got that in spades, but darlin', we're TNGB, and hic sunt dracones.

Sick Cunt Phonies?

They sure are. Now, I know what we've been saying is disrespectful, kinda mean, and downright dirty.

Bobby and TK clack their championship belts, which they must have been holding under the table at Outback.

That's just how we do. Thing is, don't take it personally, we'd be wrecking any set of fools at Leap of Faith. As much as we'd like to say we'd face you again down the line, well, we're pretty sure the XWF Universe expects us to have actual competition. Not to say the two of you aren't talented…

I'll say it, you aren't talented.

Bobby points at TK like he hit a mark.

The whole world saw you think there's some kind of pecking order within BOB, and thems just the mental scars of being in the Left Hand, thinking someone must be high and low on the totem pole. It's why Marf gets left henpecked and follows the lead of Lycana, which isn't a team, it's a leader and their henchman. That isn't cohesion, that's one pulling another along. Me and TK? We're equals, through and through, and have no Gods and masters past ourselves. We each man the helm of our own destiny. I don't have to do any heavy lifting, TK doesn't pick up the slack, we each build off each other like none other. TNGB, as is plain to see, keeping the tag division on lock because it makes us feel free. A duo so automatic you'd think we're Burt and Ernie, so play along to our song, modern-day Cheech and Chong, being the best as the day is long. Now I'm certain our match will be chock full-o'-suspense, that lower gravity makes breaking glass tables harder, I sense. But the solution is so simple, unless you're that dense. No pane can stand the pain of a Rainbow Laser Death Sequence.

Bobby and TK exchange a no-look fistbump.

I guess this was a working lunch because I just rocked the mic right.

TK finishes his plate of food while Bobby finishes up with what he was saying. Before talking he takes a swig of his beer.

You know, Bobby, Marf's talking about how the Disinfectants crushed and smashed those b minus tag teams to the ground.

And Lycana is bringing up shit Dixon said when he beat Marf for fucks sakes. Jesus, these two are good, they have promise, and they're a hell of a squad, but the thing is, the ones winning and retaining the Tag Titles are a fucking team. Marf even thinks that's something to pass off as a weakness, that we work together! Lycana just went and spewed the same "spooky bitch" hogwash, about painting with blood. Well, master edgelord, maybe if you reigned in your partner a little better, enforced that pecking order, you'd have a chance. Instead, well, your routine that worked against others just fizzled, crashed, and burned on re-entry.

He also fucking said while we, Them No Good Bastards, were sitting front row watching. Are you sure Marf doesn't have fucking brain damage? What is it with the XWF handing us teams with the goddamned disabled? First MasterMind, now Marf. Must be a thing if your name starts with a goddamn M you have to be challenged? Anyway, we were sitting at the commentary desk. Doing... You know... Commentary. What a fucking idiot. Then you got Lycana who's whole fucking life is so goddamn convo-fucking-luted she doesn't even remember what she said at MayDay. Don't believe me, suffer through her fucking promo's yourself, you'll see it. Seriously, Cameraman shut that thing the fuck off. They're fucking repeating to repeat themselves. Bobby is doing that step we skipped in the class about sportsmanship. This squad fucking blows. End of fucking story.


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


Back in the room where the class/seminar is being held, we see TK and Bobby standing at the head of the class.

Well, Eddie has finished grading your papers…

My name is Jimmy!

Whatever. Anyhow, we have some stand-outs we'd like to bring to the front of the room to give the appropriate recognition to.

When I call your fucking name, come up.

TK looks at a small list that's been handed to him by Jimmy.

Zip Nuggetporn!

A man in overalls and a raccoon skin hat beams as he stands and makes his way to the front of the room. Bobby shakes his hand.

Stand over there.

Bobby points off to the other side of TK.

Nedward Kayne!

A man who looks suspiciously like Ned Kaye, down to the ring gear, with the exception of what looks like a large false mustache, makes his way to the front of the room. Bobby shakes his hand.

Good work.

Nedward makes his way beside Zip Nuggetporn.

Georgia Souptits!

A woman dressed in a poodle skirt and sweater, like an extra from Grease, stands and makes her way to the front of the room. Bobby shakes her hand.

You did very well!

Delores Blumpkins!

I’m fucking coming.

Delores stands up and makes her way to the front. She brusquely passes by Bobby and stands with the others.

Finally, and this doesn't come as a goddamn surprise considering how much he has contributed to this room, the unforgettable Rusty Jerkins Cockwash!

A man in a bright pastel yellow tuxedo stands. He does the Macarena in celebration and then walks to the front of the class. Bobby shakes his hand.

Attaboy!

Rusty stands with the rest of the stand-outs from the class.

You fucking guys deserve this credit!

Alright. The five of you, repeat after me. I, state your name.

Everyone but Delores repeats after Bobby.

"I, state your name."

Do hereby pledge allegiance to smack talk.

"Do hereby pledge allegiance to smack talk."

With liberty and bastardry for all.

"Amen."

Bobby steps forward with a large brown bag. He walks up to Rusty. He pulls out a small plastic card.

Rusty, here is the used Outback Steakhouse gift card that paid for our lunch. There’s like six dollars and change left on it. We bequeath the title Head Honcho of Trash on you.

Rusty waves at the camera. Bobby moves on to Georgia.

Georgia, here is a pack of gum we found in the room when we were setting up. Your smack talker title is Fresh Diss-tracker.

Georgia blushes as she accepts her reward. Bobby approaches Zip.

Zip, you did the worst out of anyone in terms of smack talk. You have earned the title of Robert Main. Shame.

Zip looks sad as he walks back to his seat. TK flips him off behind his back. Bobby shakes his head in disappointment then moves over to Delores.

Delores, we're really proud of how you did. From now on, you are the Bellows. Here, take this.

Bobby pulls a can of Dr. Thunder out of the bag and hands it to Delores.

'Bout fucking time.

Bobby approaches Nedward.

Bud, I already handed you the Hart Championship on a silver platter it feels like, so we're not giving you anything else. However, we've given this a lot of thought. From now on, your name is Flounder.

Flounder?

Everybody in the room begins to shout and celebrate as Louie, Louie starts to play.

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

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


Alright, fuckers, as you leave you'll be handed your diplomas or lack-there-fucking-of.

TK couldn't be heard over the music or the celebrating class. Bobby's dancing with the other Bastard Men, which now includes Jimmy.

Ah, fuck it! Who cares!

TK begins dancing with Bobby, the rest of the class, and the Bastard Men. The scene fades to commercial as the tag team champions doing what they do best. Having fun.


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

Jimmy is shoved into the frame but he plays it off as cool, as he can.

Hi, I'm Jimmy Janowski, Thunder Knuckles' head trainer. Have you ever wondered how to talk trash as good as Them No Good Bastards?


[Image: SaDdg4t.png]




Well, wait no longer with this three-disk DVD box set, or two-disk ultimate collectors edition Bluray, with exclusive behind the scene footage! Don't delay! Act now and get yours today!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
]]> <![CDATA[And Theres Nowhere Left For You To Hide]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40953 Sat, 29 May 2021 22:14:11 -0700 Lycana]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40953 60083564_1623021387834533_1782819054596128768_n



I can't deny what I am after
I can't deny what I've become
The sun sets and with it, brings disaster
Oh, it has begun





CLICK]]> 60083564_1623021387834533_1782819054596128768_n



I can't deny what I am after
I can't deny what I've become
The sun sets and with it, brings disaster
Oh, it has begun





CLICK]]> <![CDATA[Missing Pieces: Part 2 - RP #3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40952 Sat, 29 May 2021 22:04:43 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40952
St. Peter’s Basilica || Vatican City, Illuminatus Nation || 11:12 AM

”These people are fuckin’ weird,” she says aloud as we pass by the dead popes in the necropolis. I nod in agreement. ”So how does this work? What happens?” she asks as we make our way toward the far end where my loved ones are buried.

”It’s a drug,” I begin explaining. ”I don’t remember what its called but it comes in a syringe. It knocks me cold in seconds and gives me a dreamless sleep that allows me to just enter my subconscious once I’m knocked out.”

A great deal of hesitation, call it cold feet even, overcomes me just as we reach the final doorway where my mother, my grandfather and my fathers friend and confidant Jake Anderson all rest. Some panic washes over me and I’m now in the middle of my first panic attack in months. The attack causes me to stumble backwards and Dolly is right there for me, fully aware of my history of panic attacks. Like a nurturing mother she retreats from the doorway to my side and rubs my shoulder.

”It’s okay, take a breath,” she says and following her advice, I bend at the hip and lean my hands upon my knees, trying to take deep, calming breaths. The attack is over in a few seconds and I don’t really even acknowledge it or her response to it. I have a mission to see through and at the moment, that’s the only thing on my mind.

Entering the room, I stop and take a slow look around at the bare caskets covered in an ever-thickening amount of dirt and dust. Passing by Jacob and then my grandfather, we come to my mother. Fastened to the brick below her casket is an illegible brass plate. Wiping away the dirt covering the engravings reveals the inscription: Caitlyn Nguyen-Duke – The Queen Mother. Sadness and silence grip me tight but Dolly, sensing this, grips me even tighter by my hand.

”I often wonder what she’d think of me,” I admit to Dolly as a tear rolls down my cheek.

”Did you ever tell me she was adopted?” Dolly asks, warmly leaning her head against my shoulder in an effort to comfort me.

I shrug in response, I honestly don’t remember.

”There’s a lot of parallels don’t you think?” she asks glancing up at me for a moment before returning her head to my shoulder.

”I wasn’t adopted,” I reply to her with a bit of confusion in my voice.

”I mean her, you, Frankie,” she retorts. ”Your mom was adopted, you adopted Frankie. Frankie’s birth father killed his mommy, your father killed yours.

“Similar wit with a sometimes sharp tongue, blatant disregard for rules of the norm.”

I look at her and can’t stop myself from smiling a little. ”I’m not sure I ever really thought of it that way,” I tell her before returning my attention toward my mothers casket. ”A lot of Frankie’s attitude I think is learned though. I try to be a good influence on him, but he picks up the bad from me as well as he does the good.”

”Do you think the similarities between what happened to both of yer mothers is what prompted you to pretty much drop everything and drop in on him like a damn superhero to save him?”

”Maybe… probably,” I tell her. ”Maybe I oughta start seeing you instead of my shrink,” I joke. ”I mean...” I stammer, realizing what I just said.

”Shut up, I knew what you meant.”

”Well,” I begin, taking a step away from her and releasing her hand. ”You ready to sit in the dirt and be bored for the next… I have no idea how long it’ll be?”

”Am I not comin’ with you?” she asks, looking a bit put off.

”I’m not sure its a good idea,” I answer her. ”I’m just not sure that...”

”Thad, I came to do this with you. I came to help you see this through. I came...”

”No,” I snipe back much colder than I intended and interrupting her before I take a seat on the dirt covered floor then lean my back against the brick wall. Removing the small case from my backpack, I open it up to reveal the syringes inside. Picking one, I remove the cap and squeeze a little, flicking the syringe as a bit of the contents drips from the hollow point of the needle. Squeezing my left hand into a fist a few times to get the blood flowing and my veins to swell a bit, I stick the needle in my arm and press the plunger.

”See ya on the flip side,” I joke. Dolly rushes down to the floor beside me and just as I’m falling unconscious, I can see her remove the needle from my arm and stab herself in the leg with it. ”No… Dolly… what the f…….”

Blackness.


…


…


…


…


My eyes flutter open and I can feel the cold damp compacted dirt floor beneath me. After a moment, I sit up and rub my eyes before climbing to my feet. With no hesitation, I start down the corridors of my subconscious memories toward the big red door with the brass handles. The one far down the other end that leads to the Saint Peters Basilica memories. That’s where I always found Doc before and I have no reason to suspect this might be any different.

Reaching the door I place my hand on the handle then hesitate and take a deep breath. Just as I’m about to push the door open, a small hand slaps down upon mine, startling me. Jumping back, I realize Dolly has joined me despite my protests earlier back in the real world.

”Dolly what the fuck are you doing here!?” I doth protest. ”I told you...”

”And I told you I was in this with you,” interrupting me, she pleads her case and looks up into my eyes. ”Besides its a bit late now don’t you think? I’m already here.”

Looking back into her eyes for a long moment, something occurs to me. ”I’m really glad you’re here,” I say as a tear escapes my eye. Her support for me, for this crazy endeavor that may not even work, its everything to me, to our friendship.

”Yeah well don’t open the flood gates just yet,” she jokes, causing me to laugh. ”You’ll turn this damn floor to mud and I just bought these shoes.”

Her and I both almost simultaneously remove our eyes from each other and turn our heads toward the red door. Together, we push on that door. Inside that door lies the Basilica that in the real world rests just above our unconscious heads.

Slowly, we enter the darkened recess of my memory. Behind us, the red door closes with a hushed click and the Basilica lights up. Just as he was so many times before, Doctor D’Ville sits upon the altar where unlike previous trips here that had one throne- mine- this altar now has two. In contrast to real world D’Ville that has changed his skin in a manner of speaking as often lately as dogs shed their hair, he appears here in his most traditional form. Balding head with what’s left of his hair combed back against his skull, clean shaven with his blue eyes still very much soul piercing.

Dolly and I make our way down the main aisle of the Basilica toward the altar. Reaching the bottom of the steps, D’Ville looks down at us.

”Young Duke,” he nods in my direction before looking to my right, instinctively I roll my eyes. ”Miss Waters.”

”’Sup Dawk?” she greets him as she normally would have.

”I wasn’t sure you’d be here Doc,” I say to him as Dolly and I make our way up the steps. ”We haven’t exactly been in the same company of late,” I say as I sit my own throne beside his.

”I knew you’d come calling eventually,” Doc says as he shifts himself to view the both of us better.

I look to my left toward Dolly and now a third throne has appeared and she casually sits upon it.

”Three thrones? Where’d that one come from?” I ask of D’Ville.

Doc stares at me blankly for a quick second before answering. ”It’s your dream, you tell me.”

For a brief moment, my heart starts to pound as I stare straight forward toward the red door Dolly and I entered through moments ago, though it isn’t visible from here. ”For someone so concerned with Corey wanting him out of Continuum, you sure did a good job yourself of making sure you were out, didn’t you?” I ask of him, changing the subject.

”Spare me,” he begins. ”Let’s not pretend that you and Corey both haven’t been looking for an excuse to dump me on my ass.”

”You’re wrong,” I fire back at him and he looks at me. ”You ought to know by now that loyalty is embedded in my DNA.”

”Loyalty,” Doc scoffs but stops short of rolling his eyes. ”Loyalty so strong you couldn’t even kneel to your King.”

I shake my head. ”It wasn’t like that, man,” I begin to try explaining my perspective to him. ”You’re the King of the XWF. I too am a King and you remind me of that fact constantly. Except my royal titles exist outside the arenas and stadiums.

“You know as well as I do Louis, a King who kneels is no King. I couldn’t have knelt to you if I wanted to.”

”Fair enough I suppose,” Doc agrees hesitantly.

”I told you a long time ago that my loyalty didn’t come at a price.”

”I remember.”

”You helped me out Doc,” I remind him. ”Corey wasn’t quite well enough to return just yet. Dolly was doing whatever Dolly does. My father was still licking his wounds from being buried alive, but it was you.

“You were the one that helped me out when I was getting my ass kicked by Cataclysm.

“You were the one not just behind me, but beside me as together… we ended Cataclysm and their reign of dominance… for good.”

”We did.”

”You earned my loyalty through fighting beside me when you didn’t have to, Doc. My loyalty doesn’t waver and it doesn’t take a day off. Regardless of what it is that Corey wants or doesn’t want… You’re a part of Continuum so long as you choose it.”

”It doesn’t take a day off? Did I or did I not hear you at MayDay cheering on Alias to defeat me from your comfortable front row seat?”

”You did,” I willfully admit.

”A man that would much rather see you dead than alive,” Doc drives home his point. ”And don’t think I didn’t see you sneering at me when I shoved that sneaky little shit on his ass.

“Tell me, why so loyal to Corey Smith?”

”Well… he’s...”

”Not so quick to answer,” he interjects. ”You’ve given back to him everything he is now and even he befriends the man that wishes death upon you.”

”I’ve been an underdog all my life Lou,” I inform him, ignoring his shot at Corey. ”It’s hard for me not to root for an underdog no matter what that man thinks of me.”

”Underdog,” he scoffs again but this time rolls his eyes with a bit of a grin. ”You’re a dynasty, Young Duke,” he says pointedly. ”Not an underdog.”

For a moment, he leaves me speechless.

”With all the talk of Continuum and am I or am I not, I can’t help but notice you’re a little light in the waist.”

I look at him, confused.

”Where are my tag team titles?”

”The Bastards took ‘em.”

”Right, and what are you doing...?”

”Yeah yeah, I have a plan for that,” I interrupt him.

”When?”

”I’mma get to it,” I answer him like a defensive teenager being scolded by his parent. ”You gonna help me out or what man?”

D’Ville stands from his throne.

”If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” Doc says and his response gives me a bit of a smile. Standing from my throne and Dolly from… apparently her throne, the three of us walk down the steps toward the Necropolis that lies behind and beneath the altar. Quietly, we make our way through the different rooms to the very last one, again containing the remains of my loved ones.

”Is it even possible for you to do what I need you to do?” I ask of him as the three of us come to a stop before my grandfathers casket.

”You want to enter your grandfathers memories like I do yours,” he answers.

”Yeah pretty much,” I answer him. ”But I’m certain he won’t have any headaches.”

”So why is she here?” he asks, pointing to Dolly.

”Moral support Dawk,” she answers quickly. Doc’s eyes pass back and forth between Dolly and I, then he turns his attention to the dust covered casket of my grandfather. He pulls a small dagger from… somewhere… and starts to slide it into the locking mechanism of the casket.

”Woe! Wait! What the fuck are you doing!?” I yell out, slamming my hand down on D’Ville’s.

”Did you think I just snapped my fingers?”

”Yeah kinda,” I admit, feeling a bit foolish. He shrugs my hand from his and jimmies the lock open, then lifts the lid, revealing my grandfather, dead now six years. The smell is overwhelmingly disgusting. I’ve seen death a thousand times over. I’ve smelled it too and this, just isn’t that. After Dolly and I both nearly vomit, it takes us several moments to gather ourselves.

Burying the lower part of my face in the crease of my elbow, I hesitantly step forward, peering over the edge of the casket. Call it morbid curiosity. My grandfathers bones lie in a disgusting soup of liquefied flesh and other bodily fluids. Parts of his scalp still remain clinging to his skull, strands of hair still hanging on for dear life. His eyes, ears and everything else that isn’t bone now adding to the putrid soup. His hands still lie at his sides, his Illuminatus iron cross ring dangling from his bony digit and his clothing lies lazily over the rest of him. Reaching slowly inside the casket…

”Eww! What are you doing!?” she asks as she slaps my extending arm.

”Gah! Watch! You almost made me touch the gross grandpa stew!” I tell her before reaching across Asmodeus once more and retrieving the ring from his bony finger.

”What are you doing with that?”

”I gave this to him on his birthday one year. It belongs to me,” I say, closing one eye and squinting the other, looking hard at the detail on the cross. ”Somehow I don’t think he’ll mind,” I conclude as I go to slide the ring into my pocket. Doc has other ideas and grips my arm then shakes his head.

”What do you think I was after?” he asks and I look at him perplexed. ”Connective tissue, in a manner of speaking. The ring connects you to him.”

”What about Dolly?”

”What about Dolly?”

”Nothing connects her to him.”

”She’s connected to you,” he says, once again he poses me riddles and I look at Dolly with more confusion. This time, she returns a similar look.

Looking back at Doc, his ice blue eyes about roll back into his head. He lets out a strange not quite scream and the world goes black around us. The floor beneath us gives way and we’re free falling. I let out a kind of yelp for a brief moment and Dolly let’s out a brief high pitched squeal. Through the darkness, she’s all I can see and she’s plain as day. Everything else is pitch black nothingness. The abyss of nothing similar to that of Ned Kaye’s career and for a moment, Dolly and I look at each other as we free fall.

”I swear if Ned’s down here I’m gonna laugh my ass off,” I joke because really what else am I gonna do? The joke causes a bit of a laugh from Dolly and really, that’s all that mattered. Dolly and I both look down below us as we fall. The floor is quickly rising to meet us and just as we’re about to hit, we grab each others hands and brace for impact.

The impact though never comes. Opening our eyes and letting go of each other, we both look up at the other memory recess we passed through. Looking down again, another one is fast approaching and rather than pass through this one, we land with a thud on the compacted dirt surface. The impact knocks the wind out of us both and for a moment my tinnitus kicks in causing a deafening ringing silence in my ear.

After gasping and coughing the air back into our lungs, I climb to my feet and reach down helping Dolly to hers.

”You okay?” I ask of her while fixing a bit of her disheveled hair.

She nods, then takes a look up and down each end of the memory hallway. It takes us both this long to realize that Doc hasn’t accompanied us. ”Where the hell do we go?”

Looking up and down each end myself, I shrug. ”Beats me.” Side by side, Dolly and I start to slowly make our way down the corridors of my grandfathers memories. In my memory hallways, the walls are made of a painted over cinder block material. Asmodeus? His memory corridors are made of compacted dirt and rock. Almost like that of a cave. The lighting in mine was far better, his is very dim and we can’t see more than two or three feet in front of us.

One by one we pass different doors to different sections of my grandfathers memory. Each door, I have to get up real close to make out the markings. I have to think hard to remember my Latin too, because his doors are labeled in Latin, not English.

What an asshole.

Door after door we pass. Early childhood memories and young adult memories. Memories of him joining the Church and the priesthood. His early friendship with the former Father Ratzinger who would one day rise to the Papacy and would send a man into my grandfathers midst unbeknownst to him, as a spy for the Church. A man that would one day make attempts on the life of my father and grandfather. A man that successfully killed a great many of my fathers friends and turned many others against him.

His name was Jonathan.

Just because I wasn’t there doesn’t mean I don’t know the stories.

My father waged war against Jonathan in the earliest days of the modern Clandestine War and prevailed. Hanging Jonathan and his co-conspirators from the now demolished gallows that once stood against the back wall of the Compound.

Coming to a door that reads: Caitlyn’s Mortem.

Looking at it like I’d seen a ghost, I take a step back, nearly knocking Dolly over in the process.

”We missed it,” I say quietly, unable to take my eyes from the door.

”How do you know?”

”They go chronologically, just like mine.”

”What’s this one?”

”My mother’s death,” I answer her quietly. ”So unless I’m wrong, we missed it. A conspiracy to… remove her… would be a memory before her death would it not?”

”Yeah,” she answers back. ”As much as it might kill you to think it, and it kills me to mention it… Maybe you’ve been wrong and she really did what you’re supposed to believe she did.”

I look at her contemplating for a moment. ”We had to have missed something. Let’s go back.”

Traveling back up the hallway, we both proceed slowly, feeling along the wall for anything different or out of place. Once again we pass door after door. Passing the door labeled: Thaddeus Renovanem, or ‘Rebirth’ once more and just before the door that reads: Militum Aquisitio, or ‘Military Acquisition.’

”Wait,” I stop and feel around. There’s brick and mortar, unlike the rest of the cavern like recesses of my grandfathers memories.

”What is it?” she asks while rushing over toward me.

”Brick and mortar, like it’s hiding something,” I inform her as I pick away at the crumbling mortar. It’s slow at first, but soon, the mortar crumbles away quicker and easier. Dolly hurries to help me out and soon, block by block, the wall starts to fall away into the abyssal nothingness next to Ned Kaye’s career. Staring into the darkness, side by side Dolly and I step into it.

Nothing.

We take another step or so.

Again, nothing.

Together, we step forward deeper and deeper for what seems like several hundred feet until in the distance we see a dimly lit black door. Picking up our pace, we reach the doorway quickly and both stare at the brass placard attached to it.

”What’s it say?”

”Caitlyn’s insidiae,” I take a look at Dolly. ”Caitlyn’s treachery… or plot… or conspiracy… Latin has very loose translations.”

”Gotta be it, right?”

I nod and open the door.

Darkness. Typical.

Dolly and I step inside the darkness and close the door behind us. On the click of the latch, the room lights up before us. It takes a second for me to process exactly where I’m at.

”Your grandfathers farmhouse back home,” she says, cluing in around the same time I did.

My grandfather sits in his chair in front of the crackling fire. A man with his back to us and a hood covering his head looks out the window. It seems to be at some point during the night time hours.

”And the girl?” asks my grandfather, craning his neck just a little to spy the hooded man.

”She’ll be a problem,” the man answers back.


”Wait I know that voice,” I say aloud, taking a step toward the hooded man.


”The King is entirely taken with her, especially since the Prince’s death,” he states. Instinctively, I grab my chest where I was shot and killed all those years ago.

”Well,” my grandfather begins, using the cane to aid him to his feet. ”The Prince’s death is not permanent. I’m currently at work on a solution.”

”Even still Father,” he pauses. ”Once the boy returns, Sebastian will feel bulletproof with both he and the mother by his side.”

”Jacob!” my grandfather shouts. ”Dead or not, you mustn’t refer to the Prince as ‘the boy.’ Not ever.”

”My apologies Father,” Jacob says as he removes his hood and bows his head in respect. ”The fact remains, once the Prince returns, the Queen will be too powerful for us to stop her from perverting the mind of the King.”

”Then she must be dealt with Jacob,” Asmodeus says. ”Permanently.”

”Father let me take care of it,” Jake pleads.

I look at Dolly for a moment, my deepest suspicions being confirmed before our eyes. She can hardly believe it. Meanwhile, I’m sort of relieved that I’m right while my rage begins building.

”The King, if he were to suspect anything at all, he’d never suspect my involvement,” Jake insists.

My grandfather ponder a moment, standing in front of his fireplace.

”He’s too stupid and weak to see what stands before him as it is,” Asmodeus thinks aloud. ”If he did learn the truth, are you willing to sacrifice the lives of...”

”I have a plausible way to warp his mind to our thinking,” Jake interrupts. ”The Queen is a former Catholic. If we can get them at odds, we can manufacture whatever we need in order to turn him against her forever.

“The Church has already been planting evidence in order to tear them apart so really, we just let them do it. What’s more Father, is that he’d take care of our problem himself.”

”Hmm,” he grunts in thought. ”Whatever happens, when the Prince is home he mustn’t ever learn the true fate of his mother. I’ll hold off on his return until she’s out of the picture.”

”What does it matter if a teenage boy learns...”

”You know how he was designed Jacob,” my grandfather snaps. ”He’ll want retribution for his mothers demise.”

”Yes Father,” Jacob nods before excusing himself.

”And Jacob my son,” Asmodeus says. Jake stops at the door. ”Do not think that I’m not aware of the selfless sacrifices you make for the cause. The Illuminatus is indebted to you now and always.”

”Thank you Father.”

Jacob passes between Dolly and I, vaporizing into thin air behind us.

”It’s a shame it has to be this way Sebastian,” my grandfather thinks aloud to himself. ”Where did I go wrong with you?”

”C’mon,” I say to Dolly and we exit the room and travel back the darkened formerly hidden hallway to the main recess corridor.

”How do you feel?”

”Indifferent I guess,” I say with a shrug. ”It’s what I was suspecting. The Church has some explaining to do though, that part I didn’t suspect.”

”Does this satisfy you at all?”

I look at her in deep thought for a moment before shaking my head. ”I want to look a little deeper,” I say as I head back toward his later memories. ”Remember the door that was labeled ‘Apocalypsis’?”

She nods.

”I forgot one of the other translations of that word,” I inform her and she scrunches up her eye and nose to me. ”It also means ‘revelations.’”

Up the corridor, we stop at the appropriate door and with little hesitation, Dolly and I enter. Again, the room doesn’t light up until the click of the door latch behind us. We’re inside the old library at the Compound. Today, it’s my secure Situation Room. In those days it was nothing more than a room filled with books and places to sit. Most of my fathers strategic meetings took place here.

”Holy shit is that her?” Dolly asks referring to the tall blonde woman standing, looking angry at my father. I nod in response. ”She was beautiful!”

”Yeah,” I agree with her. ”Thankfully. I mighta come out looking like my dad otherwise.” Dolly playfully slaps me on the shoulder.

”Don’t give me that bullshit, Sebastian! My son is gone because of you!” my mother shouts at my father.

”He was my son too,” my father replies almost stoically.

In the middle of their argument, Jacob enters the room followed by a dozen or so armed Illuminatus guards.

”Jake?” my father says, looking past my mother to the man in question and Jake nods him over. My father walks past my mother toward Jake. They retreat to a corner and begin to whisper. I can’t hear them from our position so quickly Dolly and I rush over toward them and notice my grandfather sitting quietly by himself across the room in a corner reading a newspaper.

”...have irrefutable proof, Your Grace,” Jake says as we pick up his voice. ”We know where the leaks are coming from and we know who the Vatican spy is.”

”Who is it?” my father says as he starts to make his way back to my mother. ”Send them to me.”

”Sebastian,” Jake calls out, breaking protocol. Unlike me, my father on the other hand was always a stickler for protocol. He loved being referred to by his regal titles. Jacob’s break in that regard, sends a chill up my fathers spine and he comes back across the room.

”Who is it?” he repeats.

Jake swallows hard. ”I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but...”

”Just tell me who it is Jake,” my father insists, his voice level raising a few octaves.

In contrast, Jacob’s voice is barely audible but Dolly and I can both read his lips as plain as day. ”The Queen.”

My father stands in a stunned silence for a few moments before uttering a single word. ”Impossible.”

”Look,” Jake says to him while revealing some pages. A lot of them look to be cell phone records. ”Undeniable proof.”

My dad looks across the room at my mother as his face turns beet red.

”What is it?” my mother asks of him.

He again turns to Jake and gives a nod.

”Dad!? C’mon!? Cell phone records!? That’s circumstantial at best!” I plead with him in vain.

Jake nods to the guards and they advance toward my mother. I want to intervene so badly but at the same time, I know it’ll be pointless, so I stand with Dolly watching the horror unfold.

”Caitlyn Duke,” Jacob says as a couple of the guards grab her by her arms.

”What the hell is this?”

”You’re hereby under arrest and charged with treason and other crimes against the Illuminatus State,” Jacob informs her.

My father stands quietly, staring at the wall in front of him.

”DO SOMETHING!” I shout out to him, again in vain.

”Sebastian!” my mother calls out. ”DO SOMETHING!”

He looks in her direction for a brief moment as the guards lead her out of the room presumably toward the old prison cells beneath the Compound.

”YOU WEAK PIECE OF ABSOLUTE SHIT! YOU COULDN’T EVEN LOOK HER IN THE EYE!” I shout out to my father. My father turns and looks in my direction and for a moment, I can almost feel him looking directly at me.

”You gonna be alright?” Jake asks as he steps back into the room.

”I will be,” my father replies. ”Once I gut her like a fish in St. Peter’s Square.”

Seething with rage and about to burst and with virtually no outlet, Dolly grabs me by the arm but I shrug her off. I look in her direction a moment and she stares into my eyes. A much greater deal of calm washes over me and she grabs my hand, leading me back out into the memory hallway.

Letting go of her hand, I lean head first into the cavern like wall. ”How can he be fooled by simple cell records? Frankie could fuckin’ fake those,” I say to her as I sob a little out of frustration and anger. She steps toward the wall and rubs the upper part of my back and shoulders for a moment.

”Was this enough?”

I don’t answer her immediately. Instead, I quietly cry into my own hand as the realization hits me that I lost my mother because of baseless lies and stupidity and nothing more. Stepping away from the wall, I wipe the remaining tears from my eyes and head deeper into the memory corridor.

”Where are you going!” Dolly calls out as she rushes to catch up to me. In an effort to hamper her ability to do so, I quicken my pace to nearly a run. I reach the door I was after: Caitlyn’s Mortem. Just as I place my hand on the knob, Dolly’s hand come flying in front of my face to grab my hand.

”You don’t need to see that,” she insists.

I relent rather easily and remove my hand from the knob.

”You’re right,” I say quietly. ”I just thought, you know, I came this far. Why stop now?”

”Because you learned the truth,” she answers me. ”Nothin’ good’s gonna happen if you go in there.”

Breathing a deep sigh I turn around and lean my back against the door.

”I guess its a good thing you came after all huh?” I joke a little, trying hard to lighten my own mood. She chuckles just a bit and nods. Just then, the door behind me gives way and I fall backward into the memory. ”Oh shit!” I cry out as I fall inside, grabbing onto Dolly’s arm to stop myself from falling only for her to fall right along with me. I land on my back with Dolly landing on top of me.

”Comfortable?” I joke with a smile and she hurries off of me while slapping me once more in the shoulder.

”Shut up asshole.”

Climbing to my feet, I realize this room isn’t quite like the others. The door is gone and the memory is before us whether we wanted it to be or not. It’s a bright sunny day in Rome and thousands of tourists and worshipers are going about their day taking in the sights and snapping pictures of the Holy City. Soon, a commotion comes from nearby and a horn blows as a speeding van tears through Saint Peters Square. Dolly and I rush over to see what’s going on, both of us momentarily forgetting we’re inside a memory of someone else.

Peeking inside the van, my grandfather sits the front passenger seat as the side door slides open. My father and a couple of his guards file out. In the grasp of his hand is a fistful of my mothers hair. Of course, attached to it, is the rest of my mother. She’s bound and gagged.

”Mom!” I shout out and its almost like she heard me because it appears as of she was trying to find the location of my voice. I start to run off in their direction near the big obelisk, but Dolly grabs my arm.

”Thad! No! Just don’t watch! Turn away!”

”Yeah, you’re right,” I say to her. Just as we turn, we get run into by a bunch of people and her and I both get thrown to the ground in the panic.

”Thad!” she calls out.

Frantically I search for the sound of her voice, but I can’t find her. ”Dolly!” I cry out. Every time I see her, I try to head toward her, just to get ran into by someone else and have to start again. I stop dead in my tracks as a realization hits me: we’re both a physical presence here, not a metaphorical fly on the wall watching like in all the others. Immediately I search around for the foot of the obelisk where my father and his men are about to kill my mother.

If I’m here, why can’t I stop it? I think to myself as I fight my way through the stampeding and panicking crowds. I spy Dolly out of the corner of my eye and physically force a man away from her, helping her back to her feet. Immediately, we get separated and my attention again turns to my mother. She’s roped up to the obelisk now and I can see the sun reflect off my fathers blade.

”Dad! Stop!” I yell out and rush toward them. I can see my father hesitate a second and turn toward where he thought my voice came from. Just as I’m about to reach the footer of the obelisk, I’m run into by a couple of guys running away from the scene, knocking me several feet off course. I roll through the tumble and pop back to my feet but I’m too late. My father drives his blade into my mother and yanks downward, fulfilling his promise.

In a rush, my father and his men pile back into the van and they speed off out of dodge. People stop and stare as I near my mother. A couple of bystanders rush over to help me untie her and she falls into my arms. Together, we fall to the step below. Still alive, but barely, she looks knowingly into my face. Cradled in my arms, her life blood leaks all over me and I start to sob like a baby.

”Thaddeus,” my mother utters through dying breath as she reaches a blood covered hand up to touch my face. ”You grew up so beautiful,” she says and my tears are entirely uncontrollable. I hold her as tight as I can for the only time I can remember.

”I’m… sorry… Mom...” I managed to get out through my sobs. ”I wanted to stop him… but I couldn’t get here.”

”It’s okay… baby,” she manages to utter as her breathing and chest heaving fade quicker and quicker.

”I knew you’d never betray me.”

”No, baby.”

”I love you mom.”

”I love… you too… always,” she replies, her blood covered hand still touching my face.

”You can go now,” I tell her through my sobs, all the while wishing she didn’t have to.

”You’re a… good boy... Thaddeus,” she says as she draws her final breath and her hand falls. Still cradling her, I weep openly, rocking side to side. Dolly finally makes it back to me and she sits behind me, holding me tight as I hold my mothers lifeless body.


My eyes flutter open again and I sit up in a bed.

[Image: oOceJIs.gif]





Having no idea where I am or how I got here, I look around the room. Seconds later, I realize I’m back at the hotel and Dolly is curled up asleep on a chair. It takes several moments to clear the proverbial fog, but everything floods back to me as if the Hoover Dam had just collapsed. I remember waking up in the burial chamber as Dolly was still asleep. I remember removing my grandfathers head from the rest of his corpse. I remember screaming obscenities to him and I certainly remember bashing his skull against the wall over and over until the only thing left in my hand was his jaw. I remember sobbing terribly and when Dolly awakened, she tried to console me, but I ended up collapsing to the floor with her and fell asleep. I didn’t dream of anything.

In the room, Dolly realizes I’m awake and wakes herself up. ”Do you remember everything?” she asks. I hesitate to answer right away. Soon though, I nod. Realizing my phone is dead, I borrow hers and make a call to my flight crew asking that they remove my families remains from the Necropolis and load them onto the plane.

”Why are you doing that?” she asks as I hand her phone back to her.

”My mother deserves a proper burial,” I say as tears start to fall from my eyes, remembering what I’d seen first hand by the obelisk. ”At home with dignity and respect.”


The following evening, Corey’s meant to meet us at the airfield so he can take Dolly back to Coreytopia. She wasn’t sure she should yet but I was insistent. I’ve already selfishly gobbled up so much of her time and I need to tie up a bunch of outstanding loose ends and let her get back to her life.

The flight home though was pretty quiet. She caught up on some sleep that she lost by taking care of me so much these last few weeks while I mostly stared off into space thinking about my mother and what I’d seen. It’s pretty horrific to watch something happen that you had no control over and couldn’t change. At the same time, though my attempts to intervene were futile, it afforded me an opportunity I’d have never had otherwise. That of speaking and holding onto my mother. At least when she was gone she knew she was loved and was being held by someone she loved. I can take some solace in that.

I imagine a great many more sessions with my shrink will involve my mother but if nothing else, maybe now I can try and find some sense of closure. Her station in life will be restored thanks to what I’ve learned. I’ll try hard to get passed it all and with a little help from my friends, maybe someday I will.

I owe my father a conversation at some point in the near future, though I can’t predict how friendly that’ll turn out. Like the actions he took that led to the Illuminatus Civil War between he and I, here too, he didn’t confirm the evidence. By rights, he ought to be tried for his crimes though I’m not sure I’ll take it that far. He’ll neither want the truth nor will he like it, but I know it. I have to live with what he did. I’ll be damned if I have to know it alone and I honestly don’t care what it does to him.

The plane rolls to a stop on the tarmac in Florida. By the time the steps are placed and the door is open, Corey’s Lincoln is already sitting nearby, waiting for Dolly. As we’re about to step from the plane my phone starts ringing. Looking at it for a second, it’s a Zoom call I can’t miss.

”Wait, one sec please?” I ask of Dolly and she nods. ”Frankie!” I say with a huge smile as I accept the call.

”THAD!” he yells out. ”COME QUICK!” He gets way too close to the phone and yells further: ”MY BROTHER AND SISTER ARE COMINNNNNNNG!”

”Frankie this better not be a joke!”

He pulls the phone away from his face to show me the inside of the emergency room.

”Okay tell Ginny I’ll be there in two hours.”

”Okay, love you!”

”I love you too buddy.”

Ending the call, I slide the phone back in my pocket and look at Dolly. She smiles a bit.

”Holy shit,” I say to her as emotion starts to boil.

”Are you gonna cry? I swear you should be empty by now,” she comments, causing me to laugh.

She grabs me by the hand and we start our way down the steps.

”Sup dudes?” Corey calls out through his open window.

”Hey bro,” I reply with a fist bump to him as we walk by and around to the other side. Opening the passenger side door for her, Dolly glances at me a second before taking a seat. I go to walk away but she keeps a hold of my hand, causing me to turn back and look in her direction. ”Thank you,” I say with our hands still clasped. ”For everything.”

Not taking my eyes from her, I can still spy Corey passing his eyeballs between Dolly and I repeatedly.

”Uhhh, what the fuck happened in Italy?” he asks to no answer from either of us.

”Go become a daddy,” she says to me and immediately puts a giant smile on my face.

”The babies are coming?” Corey asks, his ears perk up like a Labrador who’s just heard the word ‘treat.’

Dolly and I finally release our hands and I close the door before heading around the car to the plane.

”What happened in Italy?” he calls out after me. ”Tell me,” he says turning to Dolly. ”What happened in Italy?”

”Go home Core!” I call out to him as I start to climb the steps.

”AM I INVISIBLE HERE!?”


Well would you look at that Ned? The wise masters of the XWF’s official twitter referred to me as… get this… a living legend. Man what an opportunity for you! You get to go to Leap of Faith in quite honestly the biggest match of your life and you now have the opportunity to defeat a Living Legend.

As if my ego needs any more feeding.

I mean, that’s that persons opinion but I find it rather difficult to disagree. My record is what it is. My trophy case has quite a few notable championships within it and there’s a literal laundry list of those I’ve faced, beaten and turned into better competitors. I mean, one needs to look no further on the latter point than the current Universal Champion. The man couldn’t get over the hump two years ago, couldn’t get the job done time after time against Robert Main and fast forward two years. I beat 18 of the best this company has to offer including the current champion and I dare to say that in that feud between he and I, I forced him to get better at his job and... listen, I know what you’re thinking Ned. “What the fuck does that have to do with me?”

Well here it is Nedward… I’ll be damned if I don’t see that same trend all over again… with you. I mean just your promo ability alone for Leap of Faith has improved substantially. It’s almost like you sat there thinking “oh em gee, it’s Thad, I better get better real fucking quick.” And that’s because… well… you do. I know promo ability has nothing to do with in-ring ability but it’s definitely an indication of what you think of me, I mean truly think of me, as a competitor.

Bring the A game, because Thad doesn’t have anything other than an A game.

So let me go back to a point I previously made in these proceedings. I said you never advance passed the middle of the mountain and we both know that’s true. Why Ned? If you’re as good as you say you are then why have you never really made it? I think I know why. You never tried to climb passed the middle of the mountain because you feel safe in the middle. The top is hard. It’s difficult to get there and to stay there is even harder. The fact is, Ned never thought he had what it took to be anything more than what he is. It’s the same reason he didn’t jump into the mix in the High Stakes battle royal for the vacant Universal title… because he knew it’d be in vain.

“Oh but I was challenging Robbie Bourbon for the Hart title…” he might say and he’s right. A pretty daunting task when Robbie’s on his game, but he wasn’t really. A win is still a win though but here’s where that metaphorical argument dies. I too had another match. In fact it was right before the battle royal in an epic tag team collision between Continuum and Cataclysm in which yours truly won that mother fucker too.

All I’ve ever done is turn heads and impress the world. All Ned has ever done is be average and afraid to take the next fucking step. Well now I’ve given him no choice but to take the next step. The Hart title be damned. The “nu-uh that was cuz of me” arguments be damned. It’s time for ol’ Ned Kaye to pay the piper so to speak. He either takes the next step and rises to the occasion in contrast to what he typically does, or he doesn’t even get to keep his title and his little band of misshapen idiot friends go back to being an afterthought.

If you’re following along at home and you still don’t get it, in the grand scheme of things, this match makes or breaks Ned Kaye. As for me? If (when) I win, great, that was the predictable outcome and I don’t come out of it any better or worse for having done it except adding yet another championship to the trophy case… it really does fill up fast when you’re me. If I lose (highly doubtful) then I just made Ned Kaye the fucking star he always wished he was and I’m still hotter than a two dollar pistol. That’s what it means to be a big fucking star, Ned.

Let’s address some things he’s said at or to me a bit.

I’ll take Walking Talking Contradictions for a thousand Alex. Ned accuses me of “acting out” for attention. I mean, it’s been said a hundred times by both better and worse opponents than Ned Kaye. Yet, I receive attention on a daily basis whether it’s my promos, my social media presence, or having my ruggedly handsome face on a television screen playing a role someone else wrote. I get the attention, because people enjoy giving it to me. Not because I seek it. So let’s talk about the Nefarious One and his acting out. This is a man that got pounded by R.L. Edgar and a result of that figurative ass pounding he took saw Ned… oh no… act out and change his stripes before the masses. He had to willingly cheat to beat Edgar then turned around and willingly cheated to beat him the second time. What do we call that? Is that not acting out because something didn’t go his way?

Yeah yeah, High Stakes, Doc grabbed my leg blah blah blah. He cheated, not me.

Ned sure does talk a lot but really says very little, doesn’t he? I mean he filled the airtime in his first promo basically just hearing himself talk without making much of a point other than finding new and (un)exciting ways of calling me a child. Been there, heard that. That’s not gonna do it killer, try something else.

You’re right Ned. I’m a bad bad man because I fight for the right of my people to... live. I’ve never claimed I was perfect, never claimed I was a hero, never claimed to not make mistakes. You projecting as much, all that tells me is that you’ve been preoccupied with how the fans treated me differently than you. Or Ned. Or whomever. Whatever, you’re just Ned. Ned tried to be a good little soldier and they liked him, but they didn’t love him. Is it my fault watching Ned Kaye has always been akin to watching pain dry? And not even fun, colorful pain either. Like eggshell white or something. Plain, boring… regular… Ned.

Cry a little more fella… or fellas… know what? I don’t even fuckin’ know anymore.

And while he rants and rants about me hiding this and that… nothing is hidden about me. Everything I have ever done, good bad or indifferent is all out there for the world to see and to make their judgments on. I’m so bad at hiding things that I’m literally like an open fucking book so I’m sure that dossier does anyone a lot of good. If he didn’t know the things I’ve done in my life that I’m not proud of previously, then he (you) wasn’t paying close enough attention.

Oh and for the record, his name was Harold Jenkins. I wear his dogtogs with me everyday, not as a trophy, as you’d like to think, but a reminder of the real cost of war. The human cost of war. See, you paint these pictures of me sitting on some throne sending people to die for me while conveniently forgetting the whole truth. I fight alongside them. On the front lines, in the skies, in the tanks. I’ve been shot, shot at and shot down. I’ve held the intestines of my brothers inside their bodies as they’ve died in my arms. I certainly have blood on my hands, mine, my brothers, and theirs too. I’ll never deny it. But when it comes down to it, you said Ned was a pussy? You said yourself you don’t shed blood so how can you sit in judgment of me when in my world its kill or be killed? Clearly if you were in my shoes, TAPS would play early because you wouldn’t be long for the battlefield.

Oh come on, Ned! Big D? Tell me about other losses I had two years ago. Tell me how that or any of them somehow equate to today. Tell me how harping on losing to Big D once so long ago has any bearing on Ned Kaye and Thaddeus Duke in 2021.

Ned. Can I point something out to you? And I’m being serious.

Never take bait.

Most everyone lays out bait for their intended opponents whether it’s on the show or in promos and it’s your job to identify it as such and not swallow it like your mom should’ve swallowed your dad but instead here you are acting a fool and giving some figurative class and wasting a fuck ton of breath on a throw away line that I knew you’d bite on because you can’t help yourself. You heard his name come out my mouth and you thought you had my balls nailed to the wall while you “cleverly” point out why it makes me a villain.

Laugh.

Out.

Loud.

I told you I wanted the Hart title in my first promo and while Edgar is mentioned, it’s simply to make a particular point about you not having what it takes. Ever, really.

Oh my dude!

Ned this second promo is really something. Remember how I said I was pushing you to get better? Okay I was wrong. Giant step backward here and you called me a check artist? Thad applies pressure and ole Ned Kaye folds in on himself like fuckin’ accordian.

My tag title reign? I had to be pushed to relevance? Jesus you’re absolutely fucking clueless. Go watch the match when it was won: yeah that was me sacrificing my teammate and my opponent to win a match. That’s called a killer instinct and that’s a strand of DNA that you just don’t have.

This dude called my Universal run a hobble. Thad is visibly laughing his ass off. You can say whatever you want about the Universal title run, but there’s two people in this match. Only one of them has ever even had a Universal title run to be called a hobble... and the other person is you.

You can criticize all the gold I’ve worn, Nedward, just as long as I stay gold, Ponyboy.

Awwww look at you. The big bad bad big guy… or something… making jokes of my sexuality, which is clearly bisexual, not homosexual, but go on, make your big boy jokes as if you actually ever had a sense of humor.

See now look, this little rant you have goin’ on. It’s a lot of words but it’s mostly just filler bro. You really gotta work on that. When you talk, make sure your insults actually have basis in reality. For instance, you saying I’m not a good wrestler: if I wasn’t then why is Thad v Page at Snow Job compared to Flair and Steamboat by one of my enemies no less? Page didn’t wrestle himself dumbass.

Listen, if I could suck my own dick I totally would. Any man that says they wouldn’t is lying. But you do realize what we do here right? We call it promoing, but the real word is promoting. That’s what I do, promote myself. Did you expect me to sit down and be like “nope, guys, I’m okay but Ned’s pretty good too and he could win but I really really hope he doesn’t and…” nah bitch it ain’t like that. This is my time to tell you and the world exactly how good I am because little boys like you trying to play in a big mans world alongside people like me just always seem to forget just who the fuck you’re dealing with. I really am the shit and I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

It’s clear to me that over the last couple weeks you’ve gone from cocky and confident, which is good for any defending champion. And you’ve now ventured into “why’s Thad gotta pick on me and want my belt now?” territory. By the way, is me valuing the title to put in my trophy case somehow worse than you not valuing it at all? I didn’t think so.

Ned, the time for me to talk is now coming to an end and I’m sure despite your bravado that you’re breathing a sigh of relief. You’re about to learn first hand what it’s like in the ring with me… I don’t do a lot of talkin’ there. Oh mighty Nefarious One, you can’t be the first victory on my ledger but you will be next. I mean, why stop at seven championships when I can have eight?

And as the late Roddy Piper once said: You do not throw rocks at a man who’s gotta machine gun.


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St. Peter’s Basilica || Vatican City, Illuminatus Nation || 11:12 AM

”These people are fuckin’ weird,” she says aloud as we pass by the dead popes in the necropolis. I nod in agreement. ”So how does this work? What happens?” she asks as we make our way toward the far end where my loved ones are buried.

”It’s a drug,” I begin explaining. ”I don’t remember what its called but it comes in a syringe. It knocks me cold in seconds and gives me a dreamless sleep that allows me to just enter my subconscious once I’m knocked out.”

A great deal of hesitation, call it cold feet even, overcomes me just as we reach the final doorway where my mother, my grandfather and my fathers friend and confidant Jake Anderson all rest. Some panic washes over me and I’m now in the middle of my first panic attack in months. The attack causes me to stumble backwards and Dolly is right there for me, fully aware of my history of panic attacks. Like a nurturing mother she retreats from the doorway to my side and rubs my shoulder.

”It’s okay, take a breath,” she says and following her advice, I bend at the hip and lean my hands upon my knees, trying to take deep, calming breaths. The attack is over in a few seconds and I don’t really even acknowledge it or her response to it. I have a mission to see through and at the moment, that’s the only thing on my mind.

Entering the room, I stop and take a slow look around at the bare caskets covered in an ever-thickening amount of dirt and dust. Passing by Jacob and then my grandfather, we come to my mother. Fastened to the brick below her casket is an illegible brass plate. Wiping away the dirt covering the engravings reveals the inscription: Caitlyn Nguyen-Duke – The Queen Mother. Sadness and silence grip me tight but Dolly, sensing this, grips me even tighter by my hand.

”I often wonder what she’d think of me,” I admit to Dolly as a tear rolls down my cheek.

”Did you ever tell me she was adopted?” Dolly asks, warmly leaning her head against my shoulder in an effort to comfort me.

I shrug in response, I honestly don’t remember.

”There’s a lot of parallels don’t you think?” she asks glancing up at me for a moment before returning her head to my shoulder.

”I wasn’t adopted,” I reply to her with a bit of confusion in my voice.

”I mean her, you, Frankie,” she retorts. ”Your mom was adopted, you adopted Frankie. Frankie’s birth father killed his mommy, your father killed yours.

“Similar wit with a sometimes sharp tongue, blatant disregard for rules of the norm.”

I look at her and can’t stop myself from smiling a little. ”I’m not sure I ever really thought of it that way,” I tell her before returning my attention toward my mothers casket. ”A lot of Frankie’s attitude I think is learned though. I try to be a good influence on him, but he picks up the bad from me as well as he does the good.”

”Do you think the similarities between what happened to both of yer mothers is what prompted you to pretty much drop everything and drop in on him like a damn superhero to save him?”

”Maybe… probably,” I tell her. ”Maybe I oughta start seeing you instead of my shrink,” I joke. ”I mean...” I stammer, realizing what I just said.

”Shut up, I knew what you meant.”

”Well,” I begin, taking a step away from her and releasing her hand. ”You ready to sit in the dirt and be bored for the next… I have no idea how long it’ll be?”

”Am I not comin’ with you?” she asks, looking a bit put off.

”I’m not sure its a good idea,” I answer her. ”I’m just not sure that...”

”Thad, I came to do this with you. I came to help you see this through. I came...”

”No,” I snipe back much colder than I intended and interrupting her before I take a seat on the dirt covered floor then lean my back against the brick wall. Removing the small case from my backpack, I open it up to reveal the syringes inside. Picking one, I remove the cap and squeeze a little, flicking the syringe as a bit of the contents drips from the hollow point of the needle. Squeezing my left hand into a fist a few times to get the blood flowing and my veins to swell a bit, I stick the needle in my arm and press the plunger.

”See ya on the flip side,” I joke. Dolly rushes down to the floor beside me and just as I’m falling unconscious, I can see her remove the needle from my arm and stab herself in the leg with it. ”No… Dolly… what the f…….”

Blackness.


…


…


…


…


My eyes flutter open and I can feel the cold damp compacted dirt floor beneath me. After a moment, I sit up and rub my eyes before climbing to my feet. With no hesitation, I start down the corridors of my subconscious memories toward the big red door with the brass handles. The one far down the other end that leads to the Saint Peters Basilica memories. That’s where I always found Doc before and I have no reason to suspect this might be any different.

Reaching the door I place my hand on the handle then hesitate and take a deep breath. Just as I’m about to push the door open, a small hand slaps down upon mine, startling me. Jumping back, I realize Dolly has joined me despite my protests earlier back in the real world.

”Dolly what the fuck are you doing here!?” I doth protest. ”I told you...”

”And I told you I was in this with you,” interrupting me, she pleads her case and looks up into my eyes. ”Besides its a bit late now don’t you think? I’m already here.”

Looking back into her eyes for a long moment, something occurs to me. ”I’m really glad you’re here,” I say as a tear escapes my eye. Her support for me, for this crazy endeavor that may not even work, its everything to me, to our friendship.

”Yeah well don’t open the flood gates just yet,” she jokes, causing me to laugh. ”You’ll turn this damn floor to mud and I just bought these shoes.”

Her and I both almost simultaneously remove our eyes from each other and turn our heads toward the red door. Together, we push on that door. Inside that door lies the Basilica that in the real world rests just above our unconscious heads.

Slowly, we enter the darkened recess of my memory. Behind us, the red door closes with a hushed click and the Basilica lights up. Just as he was so many times before, Doctor D’Ville sits upon the altar where unlike previous trips here that had one throne- mine- this altar now has two. In contrast to real world D’Ville that has changed his skin in a manner of speaking as often lately as dogs shed their hair, he appears here in his most traditional form. Balding head with what’s left of his hair combed back against his skull, clean shaven with his blue eyes still very much soul piercing.

Dolly and I make our way down the main aisle of the Basilica toward the altar. Reaching the bottom of the steps, D’Ville looks down at us.

”Young Duke,” he nods in my direction before looking to my right, instinctively I roll my eyes. ”Miss Waters.”

”’Sup Dawk?” she greets him as she normally would have.

”I wasn’t sure you’d be here Doc,” I say to him as Dolly and I make our way up the steps. ”We haven’t exactly been in the same company of late,” I say as I sit my own throne beside his.

”I knew you’d come calling eventually,” Doc says as he shifts himself to view the both of us better.

I look to my left toward Dolly and now a third throne has appeared and she casually sits upon it.

”Three thrones? Where’d that one come from?” I ask of D’Ville.

Doc stares at me blankly for a quick second before answering. ”It’s your dream, you tell me.”

For a brief moment, my heart starts to pound as I stare straight forward toward the red door Dolly and I entered through moments ago, though it isn’t visible from here. ”For someone so concerned with Corey wanting him out of Continuum, you sure did a good job yourself of making sure you were out, didn’t you?” I ask of him, changing the subject.

”Spare me,” he begins. ”Let’s not pretend that you and Corey both haven’t been looking for an excuse to dump me on my ass.”

”You’re wrong,” I fire back at him and he looks at me. ”You ought to know by now that loyalty is embedded in my DNA.”

”Loyalty,” Doc scoffs but stops short of rolling his eyes. ”Loyalty so strong you couldn’t even kneel to your King.”

I shake my head. ”It wasn’t like that, man,” I begin to try explaining my perspective to him. ”You’re the King of the XWF. I too am a King and you remind me of that fact constantly. Except my royal titles exist outside the arenas and stadiums.

“You know as well as I do Louis, a King who kneels is no King. I couldn’t have knelt to you if I wanted to.”

”Fair enough I suppose,” Doc agrees hesitantly.

”I told you a long time ago that my loyalty didn’t come at a price.”

”I remember.”

”You helped me out Doc,” I remind him. ”Corey wasn’t quite well enough to return just yet. Dolly was doing whatever Dolly does. My father was still licking his wounds from being buried alive, but it was you.

“You were the one that helped me out when I was getting my ass kicked by Cataclysm.

“You were the one not just behind me, but beside me as together… we ended Cataclysm and their reign of dominance… for good.”

”We did.”

”You earned my loyalty through fighting beside me when you didn’t have to, Doc. My loyalty doesn’t waver and it doesn’t take a day off. Regardless of what it is that Corey wants or doesn’t want… You’re a part of Continuum so long as you choose it.”

”It doesn’t take a day off? Did I or did I not hear you at MayDay cheering on Alias to defeat me from your comfortable front row seat?”

”You did,” I willfully admit.

”A man that would much rather see you dead than alive,” Doc drives home his point. ”And don’t think I didn’t see you sneering at me when I shoved that sneaky little shit on his ass.

“Tell me, why so loyal to Corey Smith?”

”Well… he’s...”

”Not so quick to answer,” he interjects. ”You’ve given back to him everything he is now and even he befriends the man that wishes death upon you.”

”I’ve been an underdog all my life Lou,” I inform him, ignoring his shot at Corey. ”It’s hard for me not to root for an underdog no matter what that man thinks of me.”

”Underdog,” he scoffs again but this time rolls his eyes with a bit of a grin. ”You’re a dynasty, Young Duke,” he says pointedly. ”Not an underdog.”

For a moment, he leaves me speechless.

”With all the talk of Continuum and am I or am I not, I can’t help but notice you’re a little light in the waist.”

I look at him, confused.

”Where are my tag team titles?”

”The Bastards took ‘em.”

”Right, and what are you doing...?”

”Yeah yeah, I have a plan for that,” I interrupt him.

”When?”

”I’mma get to it,” I answer him like a defensive teenager being scolded by his parent. ”You gonna help me out or what man?”

D’Ville stands from his throne.

”If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” Doc says and his response gives me a bit of a smile. Standing from my throne and Dolly from… apparently her throne, the three of us walk down the steps toward the Necropolis that lies behind and beneath the altar. Quietly, we make our way through the different rooms to the very last one, again containing the remains of my loved ones.

”Is it even possible for you to do what I need you to do?” I ask of him as the three of us come to a stop before my grandfathers casket.

”You want to enter your grandfathers memories like I do yours,” he answers.

”Yeah pretty much,” I answer him. ”But I’m certain he won’t have any headaches.”

”So why is she here?” he asks, pointing to Dolly.

”Moral support Dawk,” she answers quickly. Doc’s eyes pass back and forth between Dolly and I, then he turns his attention to the dust covered casket of my grandfather. He pulls a small dagger from… somewhere… and starts to slide it into the locking mechanism of the casket.

”Woe! Wait! What the fuck are you doing!?” I yell out, slamming my hand down on D’Ville’s.

”Did you think I just snapped my fingers?”

”Yeah kinda,” I admit, feeling a bit foolish. He shrugs my hand from his and jimmies the lock open, then lifts the lid, revealing my grandfather, dead now six years. The smell is overwhelmingly disgusting. I’ve seen death a thousand times over. I’ve smelled it too and this, just isn’t that. After Dolly and I both nearly vomit, it takes us several moments to gather ourselves.

Burying the lower part of my face in the crease of my elbow, I hesitantly step forward, peering over the edge of the casket. Call it morbid curiosity. My grandfathers bones lie in a disgusting soup of liquefied flesh and other bodily fluids. Parts of his scalp still remain clinging to his skull, strands of hair still hanging on for dear life. His eyes, ears and everything else that isn’t bone now adding to the putrid soup. His hands still lie at his sides, his Illuminatus iron cross ring dangling from his bony digit and his clothing lies lazily over the rest of him. Reaching slowly inside the casket…

”Eww! What are you doing!?” she asks as she slaps my extending arm.

”Gah! Watch! You almost made me touch the gross grandpa stew!” I tell her before reaching across Asmodeus once more and retrieving the ring from his bony finger.

”What are you doing with that?”

”I gave this to him on his birthday one year. It belongs to me,” I say, closing one eye and squinting the other, looking hard at the detail on the cross. ”Somehow I don’t think he’ll mind,” I conclude as I go to slide the ring into my pocket. Doc has other ideas and grips my arm then shakes his head.

”What do you think I was after?” he asks and I look at him perplexed. ”Connective tissue, in a manner of speaking. The ring connects you to him.”

”What about Dolly?”

”What about Dolly?”

”Nothing connects her to him.”

”She’s connected to you,” he says, once again he poses me riddles and I look at Dolly with more confusion. This time, she returns a similar look.

Looking back at Doc, his ice blue eyes about roll back into his head. He lets out a strange not quite scream and the world goes black around us. The floor beneath us gives way and we’re free falling. I let out a kind of yelp for a brief moment and Dolly let’s out a brief high pitched squeal. Through the darkness, she’s all I can see and she’s plain as day. Everything else is pitch black nothingness. The abyss of nothing similar to that of Ned Kaye’s career and for a moment, Dolly and I look at each other as we free fall.

”I swear if Ned’s down here I’m gonna laugh my ass off,” I joke because really what else am I gonna do? The joke causes a bit of a laugh from Dolly and really, that’s all that mattered. Dolly and I both look down below us as we fall. The floor is quickly rising to meet us and just as we’re about to hit, we grab each others hands and brace for impact.

The impact though never comes. Opening our eyes and letting go of each other, we both look up at the other memory recess we passed through. Looking down again, another one is fast approaching and rather than pass through this one, we land with a thud on the compacted dirt surface. The impact knocks the wind out of us both and for a moment my tinnitus kicks in causing a deafening ringing silence in my ear.

After gasping and coughing the air back into our lungs, I climb to my feet and reach down helping Dolly to hers.

”You okay?” I ask of her while fixing a bit of her disheveled hair.

She nods, then takes a look up and down each end of the memory hallway. It takes us both this long to realize that Doc hasn’t accompanied us. ”Where the hell do we go?”

Looking up and down each end myself, I shrug. ”Beats me.” Side by side, Dolly and I start to slowly make our way down the corridors of my grandfathers memories. In my memory hallways, the walls are made of a painted over cinder block material. Asmodeus? His memory corridors are made of compacted dirt and rock. Almost like that of a cave. The lighting in mine was far better, his is very dim and we can’t see more than two or three feet in front of us.

One by one we pass different doors to different sections of my grandfathers memory. Each door, I have to get up real close to make out the markings. I have to think hard to remember my Latin too, because his doors are labeled in Latin, not English.

What an asshole.

Door after door we pass. Early childhood memories and young adult memories. Memories of him joining the Church and the priesthood. His early friendship with the former Father Ratzinger who would one day rise to the Papacy and would send a man into my grandfathers midst unbeknownst to him, as a spy for the Church. A man that would one day make attempts on the life of my father and grandfather. A man that successfully killed a great many of my fathers friends and turned many others against him.

His name was Jonathan.

Just because I wasn’t there doesn’t mean I don’t know the stories.

My father waged war against Jonathan in the earliest days of the modern Clandestine War and prevailed. Hanging Jonathan and his co-conspirators from the now demolished gallows that once stood against the back wall of the Compound.

Coming to a door that reads: Caitlyn’s Mortem.

Looking at it like I’d seen a ghost, I take a step back, nearly knocking Dolly over in the process.

”We missed it,” I say quietly, unable to take my eyes from the door.

”How do you know?”

”They go chronologically, just like mine.”

”What’s this one?”

”My mother’s death,” I answer her quietly. ”So unless I’m wrong, we missed it. A conspiracy to… remove her… would be a memory before her death would it not?”

”Yeah,” she answers back. ”As much as it might kill you to think it, and it kills me to mention it… Maybe you’ve been wrong and she really did what you’re supposed to believe she did.”

I look at her contemplating for a moment. ”We had to have missed something. Let’s go back.”

Traveling back up the hallway, we both proceed slowly, feeling along the wall for anything different or out of place. Once again we pass door after door. Passing the door labeled: Thaddeus Renovanem, or ‘Rebirth’ once more and just before the door that reads: Militum Aquisitio, or ‘Military Acquisition.’

”Wait,” I stop and feel around. There’s brick and mortar, unlike the rest of the cavern like recesses of my grandfathers memories.

”What is it?” she asks while rushing over toward me.

”Brick and mortar, like it’s hiding something,” I inform her as I pick away at the crumbling mortar. It’s slow at first, but soon, the mortar crumbles away quicker and easier. Dolly hurries to help me out and soon, block by block, the wall starts to fall away into the abyssal nothingness next to Ned Kaye’s career. Staring into the darkness, side by side Dolly and I step into it.

Nothing.

We take another step or so.

Again, nothing.

Together, we step forward deeper and deeper for what seems like several hundred feet until in the distance we see a dimly lit black door. Picking up our pace, we reach the doorway quickly and both stare at the brass placard attached to it.

”What’s it say?”

”Caitlyn’s insidiae,” I take a look at Dolly. ”Caitlyn’s treachery… or plot… or conspiracy… Latin has very loose translations.”

”Gotta be it, right?”

I nod and open the door.

Darkness. Typical.

Dolly and I step inside the darkness and close the door behind us. On the click of the latch, the room lights up before us. It takes a second for me to process exactly where I’m at.

”Your grandfathers farmhouse back home,” she says, cluing in around the same time I did.

My grandfather sits in his chair in front of the crackling fire. A man with his back to us and a hood covering his head looks out the window. It seems to be at some point during the night time hours.

”And the girl?” asks my grandfather, craning his neck just a little to spy the hooded man.

”She’ll be a problem,” the man answers back.


”Wait I know that voice,” I say aloud, taking a step toward the hooded man.


”The King is entirely taken with her, especially since the Prince’s death,” he states. Instinctively, I grab my chest where I was shot and killed all those years ago.

”Well,” my grandfather begins, using the cane to aid him to his feet. ”The Prince’s death is not permanent. I’m currently at work on a solution.”

”Even still Father,” he pauses. ”Once the boy returns, Sebastian will feel bulletproof with both he and the mother by his side.”

”Jacob!” my grandfather shouts. ”Dead or not, you mustn’t refer to the Prince as ‘the boy.’ Not ever.”

”My apologies Father,” Jacob says as he removes his hood and bows his head in respect. ”The fact remains, once the Prince returns, the Queen will be too powerful for us to stop her from perverting the mind of the King.”

”Then she must be dealt with Jacob,” Asmodeus says. ”Permanently.”

”Father let me take care of it,” Jake pleads.

I look at Dolly for a moment, my deepest suspicions being confirmed before our eyes. She can hardly believe it. Meanwhile, I’m sort of relieved that I’m right while my rage begins building.

”The King, if he were to suspect anything at all, he’d never suspect my involvement,” Jake insists.

My grandfather ponder a moment, standing in front of his fireplace.

”He’s too stupid and weak to see what stands before him as it is,” Asmodeus thinks aloud. ”If he did learn the truth, are you willing to sacrifice the lives of...”

”I have a plausible way to warp his mind to our thinking,” Jake interrupts. ”The Queen is a former Catholic. If we can get them at odds, we can manufacture whatever we need in order to turn him against her forever.

“The Church has already been planting evidence in order to tear them apart so really, we just let them do it. What’s more Father, is that he’d take care of our problem himself.”

”Hmm,” he grunts in thought. ”Whatever happens, when the Prince is home he mustn’t ever learn the true fate of his mother. I’ll hold off on his return until she’s out of the picture.”

”What does it matter if a teenage boy learns...”

”You know how he was designed Jacob,” my grandfather snaps. ”He’ll want retribution for his mothers demise.”

”Yes Father,” Jacob nods before excusing himself.

”And Jacob my son,” Asmodeus says. Jake stops at the door. ”Do not think that I’m not aware of the selfless sacrifices you make for the cause. The Illuminatus is indebted to you now and always.”

”Thank you Father.”

Jacob passes between Dolly and I, vaporizing into thin air behind us.

”It’s a shame it has to be this way Sebastian,” my grandfather thinks aloud to himself. ”Where did I go wrong with you?”

”C’mon,” I say to Dolly and we exit the room and travel back the darkened formerly hidden hallway to the main recess corridor.

”How do you feel?”

”Indifferent I guess,” I say with a shrug. ”It’s what I was suspecting. The Church has some explaining to do though, that part I didn’t suspect.”

”Does this satisfy you at all?”

I look at her in deep thought for a moment before shaking my head. ”I want to look a little deeper,” I say as I head back toward his later memories. ”Remember the door that was labeled ‘Apocalypsis’?”

She nods.

”I forgot one of the other translations of that word,” I inform her and she scrunches up her eye and nose to me. ”It also means ‘revelations.’”

Up the corridor, we stop at the appropriate door and with little hesitation, Dolly and I enter. Again, the room doesn’t light up until the click of the door latch behind us. We’re inside the old library at the Compound. Today, it’s my secure Situation Room. In those days it was nothing more than a room filled with books and places to sit. Most of my fathers strategic meetings took place here.

”Holy shit is that her?” Dolly asks referring to the tall blonde woman standing, looking angry at my father. I nod in response. ”She was beautiful!”

”Yeah,” I agree with her. ”Thankfully. I mighta come out looking like my dad otherwise.” Dolly playfully slaps me on the shoulder.

”Don’t give me that bullshit, Sebastian! My son is gone because of you!” my mother shouts at my father.

”He was my son too,” my father replies almost stoically.

In the middle of their argument, Jacob enters the room followed by a dozen or so armed Illuminatus guards.

”Jake?” my father says, looking past my mother to the man in question and Jake nods him over. My father walks past my mother toward Jake. They retreat to a corner and begin to whisper. I can’t hear them from our position so quickly Dolly and I rush over toward them and notice my grandfather sitting quietly by himself across the room in a corner reading a newspaper.

”...have irrefutable proof, Your Grace,” Jake says as we pick up his voice. ”We know where the leaks are coming from and we know who the Vatican spy is.”

”Who is it?” my father says as he starts to make his way back to my mother. ”Send them to me.”

”Sebastian,” Jake calls out, breaking protocol. Unlike me, my father on the other hand was always a stickler for protocol. He loved being referred to by his regal titles. Jacob’s break in that regard, sends a chill up my fathers spine and he comes back across the room.

”Who is it?” he repeats.

Jake swallows hard. ”I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but...”

”Just tell me who it is Jake,” my father insists, his voice level raising a few octaves.

In contrast, Jacob’s voice is barely audible but Dolly and I can both read his lips as plain as day. ”The Queen.”

My father stands in a stunned silence for a few moments before uttering a single word. ”Impossible.”

”Look,” Jake says to him while revealing some pages. A lot of them look to be cell phone records. ”Undeniable proof.”

My dad looks across the room at my mother as his face turns beet red.

”What is it?” my mother asks of him.

He again turns to Jake and gives a nod.

”Dad!? C’mon!? Cell phone records!? That’s circumstantial at best!” I plead with him in vain.

Jake nods to the guards and they advance toward my mother. I want to intervene so badly but at the same time, I know it’ll be pointless, so I stand with Dolly watching the horror unfold.

”Caitlyn Duke,” Jacob says as a couple of the guards grab her by her arms.

”What the hell is this?”

”You’re hereby under arrest and charged with treason and other crimes against the Illuminatus State,” Jacob informs her.

My father stands quietly, staring at the wall in front of him.

”DO SOMETHING!” I shout out to him, again in vain.

”Sebastian!” my mother calls out. ”DO SOMETHING!”

He looks in her direction for a brief moment as the guards lead her out of the room presumably toward the old prison cells beneath the Compound.

”YOU WEAK PIECE OF ABSOLUTE SHIT! YOU COULDN’T EVEN LOOK HER IN THE EYE!” I shout out to my father. My father turns and looks in my direction and for a moment, I can almost feel him looking directly at me.

”You gonna be alright?” Jake asks as he steps back into the room.

”I will be,” my father replies. ”Once I gut her like a fish in St. Peter’s Square.”

Seething with rage and about to burst and with virtually no outlet, Dolly grabs me by the arm but I shrug her off. I look in her direction a moment and she stares into my eyes. A much greater deal of calm washes over me and she grabs my hand, leading me back out into the memory hallway.

Letting go of her hand, I lean head first into the cavern like wall. ”How can he be fooled by simple cell records? Frankie could fuckin’ fake those,” I say to her as I sob a little out of frustration and anger. She steps toward the wall and rubs the upper part of my back and shoulders for a moment.

”Was this enough?”

I don’t answer her immediately. Instead, I quietly cry into my own hand as the realization hits me that I lost my mother because of baseless lies and stupidity and nothing more. Stepping away from the wall, I wipe the remaining tears from my eyes and head deeper into the memory corridor.

”Where are you going!” Dolly calls out as she rushes to catch up to me. In an effort to hamper her ability to do so, I quicken my pace to nearly a run. I reach the door I was after: Caitlyn’s Mortem. Just as I place my hand on the knob, Dolly’s hand come flying in front of my face to grab my hand.

”You don’t need to see that,” she insists.

I relent rather easily and remove my hand from the knob.

”You’re right,” I say quietly. ”I just thought, you know, I came this far. Why stop now?”

”Because you learned the truth,” she answers me. ”Nothin’ good’s gonna happen if you go in there.”

Breathing a deep sigh I turn around and lean my back against the door.

”I guess its a good thing you came after all huh?” I joke a little, trying hard to lighten my own mood. She chuckles just a bit and nods. Just then, the door behind me gives way and I fall backward into the memory. ”Oh shit!” I cry out as I fall inside, grabbing onto Dolly’s arm to stop myself from falling only for her to fall right along with me. I land on my back with Dolly landing on top of me.

”Comfortable?” I joke with a smile and she hurries off of me while slapping me once more in the shoulder.

”Shut up asshole.”

Climbing to my feet, I realize this room isn’t quite like the others. The door is gone and the memory is before us whether we wanted it to be or not. It’s a bright sunny day in Rome and thousands of tourists and worshipers are going about their day taking in the sights and snapping pictures of the Holy City. Soon, a commotion comes from nearby and a horn blows as a speeding van tears through Saint Peters Square. Dolly and I rush over to see what’s going on, both of us momentarily forgetting we’re inside a memory of someone else.

Peeking inside the van, my grandfather sits the front passenger seat as the side door slides open. My father and a couple of his guards file out. In the grasp of his hand is a fistful of my mothers hair. Of course, attached to it, is the rest of my mother. She’s bound and gagged.

”Mom!” I shout out and its almost like she heard me because it appears as of she was trying to find the location of my voice. I start to run off in their direction near the big obelisk, but Dolly grabs my arm.

”Thad! No! Just don’t watch! Turn away!”

”Yeah, you’re right,” I say to her. Just as we turn, we get run into by a bunch of people and her and I both get thrown to the ground in the panic.

”Thad!” she calls out.

Frantically I search for the sound of her voice, but I can’t find her. ”Dolly!” I cry out. Every time I see her, I try to head toward her, just to get ran into by someone else and have to start again. I stop dead in my tracks as a realization hits me: we’re both a physical presence here, not a metaphorical fly on the wall watching like in all the others. Immediately I search around for the foot of the obelisk where my father and his men are about to kill my mother.

If I’m here, why can’t I stop it? I think to myself as I fight my way through the stampeding and panicking crowds. I spy Dolly out of the corner of my eye and physically force a man away from her, helping her back to her feet. Immediately, we get separated and my attention again turns to my mother. She’s roped up to the obelisk now and I can see the sun reflect off my fathers blade.

”Dad! Stop!” I yell out and rush toward them. I can see my father hesitate a second and turn toward where he thought my voice came from. Just as I’m about to reach the footer of the obelisk, I’m run into by a couple of guys running away from the scene, knocking me several feet off course. I roll through the tumble and pop back to my feet but I’m too late. My father drives his blade into my mother and yanks downward, fulfilling his promise.

In a rush, my father and his men pile back into the van and they speed off out of dodge. People stop and stare as I near my mother. A couple of bystanders rush over to help me untie her and she falls into my arms. Together, we fall to the step below. Still alive, but barely, she looks knowingly into my face. Cradled in my arms, her life blood leaks all over me and I start to sob like a baby.

”Thaddeus,” my mother utters through dying breath as she reaches a blood covered hand up to touch my face. ”You grew up so beautiful,” she says and my tears are entirely uncontrollable. I hold her as tight as I can for the only time I can remember.

”I’m… sorry… Mom...” I managed to get out through my sobs. ”I wanted to stop him… but I couldn’t get here.”

”It’s okay… baby,” she manages to utter as her breathing and chest heaving fade quicker and quicker.

”I knew you’d never betray me.”

”No, baby.”

”I love you mom.”

”I love… you too… always,” she replies, her blood covered hand still touching my face.

”You can go now,” I tell her through my sobs, all the while wishing she didn’t have to.

”You’re a… good boy... Thaddeus,” she says as she draws her final breath and her hand falls. Still cradling her, I weep openly, rocking side to side. Dolly finally makes it back to me and she sits behind me, holding me tight as I hold my mothers lifeless body.


My eyes flutter open again and I sit up in a bed.

[Image: oOceJIs.gif]





Having no idea where I am or how I got here, I look around the room. Seconds later, I realize I’m back at the hotel and Dolly is curled up asleep on a chair. It takes several moments to clear the proverbial fog, but everything floods back to me as if the Hoover Dam had just collapsed. I remember waking up in the burial chamber as Dolly was still asleep. I remember removing my grandfathers head from the rest of his corpse. I remember screaming obscenities to him and I certainly remember bashing his skull against the wall over and over until the only thing left in my hand was his jaw. I remember sobbing terribly and when Dolly awakened, she tried to console me, but I ended up collapsing to the floor with her and fell asleep. I didn’t dream of anything.

In the room, Dolly realizes I’m awake and wakes herself up. ”Do you remember everything?” she asks. I hesitate to answer right away. Soon though, I nod. Realizing my phone is dead, I borrow hers and make a call to my flight crew asking that they remove my families remains from the Necropolis and load them onto the plane.

”Why are you doing that?” she asks as I hand her phone back to her.

”My mother deserves a proper burial,” I say as tears start to fall from my eyes, remembering what I’d seen first hand by the obelisk. ”At home with dignity and respect.”


The following evening, Corey’s meant to meet us at the airfield so he can take Dolly back to Coreytopia. She wasn’t sure she should yet but I was insistent. I’ve already selfishly gobbled up so much of her time and I need to tie up a bunch of outstanding loose ends and let her get back to her life.

The flight home though was pretty quiet. She caught up on some sleep that she lost by taking care of me so much these last few weeks while I mostly stared off into space thinking about my mother and what I’d seen. It’s pretty horrific to watch something happen that you had no control over and couldn’t change. At the same time, though my attempts to intervene were futile, it afforded me an opportunity I’d have never had otherwise. That of speaking and holding onto my mother. At least when she was gone she knew she was loved and was being held by someone she loved. I can take some solace in that.

I imagine a great many more sessions with my shrink will involve my mother but if nothing else, maybe now I can try and find some sense of closure. Her station in life will be restored thanks to what I’ve learned. I’ll try hard to get passed it all and with a little help from my friends, maybe someday I will.

I owe my father a conversation at some point in the near future, though I can’t predict how friendly that’ll turn out. Like the actions he took that led to the Illuminatus Civil War between he and I, here too, he didn’t confirm the evidence. By rights, he ought to be tried for his crimes though I’m not sure I’ll take it that far. He’ll neither want the truth nor will he like it, but I know it. I have to live with what he did. I’ll be damned if I have to know it alone and I honestly don’t care what it does to him.

The plane rolls to a stop on the tarmac in Florida. By the time the steps are placed and the door is open, Corey’s Lincoln is already sitting nearby, waiting for Dolly. As we’re about to step from the plane my phone starts ringing. Looking at it for a second, it’s a Zoom call I can’t miss.

”Wait, one sec please?” I ask of Dolly and she nods. ”Frankie!” I say with a huge smile as I accept the call.

”THAD!” he yells out. ”COME QUICK!” He gets way too close to the phone and yells further: ”MY BROTHER AND SISTER ARE COMINNNNNNNG!”

”Frankie this better not be a joke!”

He pulls the phone away from his face to show me the inside of the emergency room.

”Okay tell Ginny I’ll be there in two hours.”

”Okay, love you!”

”I love you too buddy.”

Ending the call, I slide the phone back in my pocket and look at Dolly. She smiles a bit.

”Holy shit,” I say to her as emotion starts to boil.

”Are you gonna cry? I swear you should be empty by now,” she comments, causing me to laugh.

She grabs me by the hand and we start our way down the steps.

”Sup dudes?” Corey calls out through his open window.

”Hey bro,” I reply with a fist bump to him as we walk by and around to the other side. Opening the passenger side door for her, Dolly glances at me a second before taking a seat. I go to walk away but she keeps a hold of my hand, causing me to turn back and look in her direction. ”Thank you,” I say with our hands still clasped. ”For everything.”

Not taking my eyes from her, I can still spy Corey passing his eyeballs between Dolly and I repeatedly.

”Uhhh, what the fuck happened in Italy?” he asks to no answer from either of us.

”Go become a daddy,” she says to me and immediately puts a giant smile on my face.

”The babies are coming?” Corey asks, his ears perk up like a Labrador who’s just heard the word ‘treat.’

Dolly and I finally release our hands and I close the door before heading around the car to the plane.

”What happened in Italy?” he calls out after me. ”Tell me,” he says turning to Dolly. ”What happened in Italy?”

”Go home Core!” I call out to him as I start to climb the steps.

”AM I INVISIBLE HERE!?”


Well would you look at that Ned? The wise masters of the XWF’s official twitter referred to me as… get this… a living legend. Man what an opportunity for you! You get to go to Leap of Faith in quite honestly the biggest match of your life and you now have the opportunity to defeat a Living Legend.

As if my ego needs any more feeding.

I mean, that’s that persons opinion but I find it rather difficult to disagree. My record is what it is. My trophy case has quite a few notable championships within it and there’s a literal laundry list of those I’ve faced, beaten and turned into better competitors. I mean, one needs to look no further on the latter point than the current Universal Champion. The man couldn’t get over the hump two years ago, couldn’t get the job done time after time against Robert Main and fast forward two years. I beat 18 of the best this company has to offer including the current champion and I dare to say that in that feud between he and I, I forced him to get better at his job and... listen, I know what you’re thinking Ned. “What the fuck does that have to do with me?”

Well here it is Nedward… I’ll be damned if I don’t see that same trend all over again… with you. I mean just your promo ability alone for Leap of Faith has improved substantially. It’s almost like you sat there thinking “oh em gee, it’s Thad, I better get better real fucking quick.” And that’s because… well… you do. I know promo ability has nothing to do with in-ring ability but it’s definitely an indication of what you think of me, I mean truly think of me, as a competitor.

Bring the A game, because Thad doesn’t have anything other than an A game.

So let me go back to a point I previously made in these proceedings. I said you never advance passed the middle of the mountain and we both know that’s true. Why Ned? If you’re as good as you say you are then why have you never really made it? I think I know why. You never tried to climb passed the middle of the mountain because you feel safe in the middle. The top is hard. It’s difficult to get there and to stay there is even harder. The fact is, Ned never thought he had what it took to be anything more than what he is. It’s the same reason he didn’t jump into the mix in the High Stakes battle royal for the vacant Universal title… because he knew it’d be in vain.

“Oh but I was challenging Robbie Bourbon for the Hart title…” he might say and he’s right. A pretty daunting task when Robbie’s on his game, but he wasn’t really. A win is still a win though but here’s where that metaphorical argument dies. I too had another match. In fact it was right before the battle royal in an epic tag team collision between Continuum and Cataclysm in which yours truly won that mother fucker too.

All I’ve ever done is turn heads and impress the world. All Ned has ever done is be average and afraid to take the next fucking step. Well now I’ve given him no choice but to take the next step. The Hart title be damned. The “nu-uh that was cuz of me” arguments be damned. It’s time for ol’ Ned Kaye to pay the piper so to speak. He either takes the next step and rises to the occasion in contrast to what he typically does, or he doesn’t even get to keep his title and his little band of misshapen idiot friends go back to being an afterthought.

If you’re following along at home and you still don’t get it, in the grand scheme of things, this match makes or breaks Ned Kaye. As for me? If (when) I win, great, that was the predictable outcome and I don’t come out of it any better or worse for having done it except adding yet another championship to the trophy case… it really does fill up fast when you’re me. If I lose (highly doubtful) then I just made Ned Kaye the fucking star he always wished he was and I’m still hotter than a two dollar pistol. That’s what it means to be a big fucking star, Ned.

Let’s address some things he’s said at or to me a bit.

I’ll take Walking Talking Contradictions for a thousand Alex. Ned accuses me of “acting out” for attention. I mean, it’s been said a hundred times by both better and worse opponents than Ned Kaye. Yet, I receive attention on a daily basis whether it’s my promos, my social media presence, or having my ruggedly handsome face on a television screen playing a role someone else wrote. I get the attention, because people enjoy giving it to me. Not because I seek it. So let’s talk about the Nefarious One and his acting out. This is a man that got pounded by R.L. Edgar and a result of that figurative ass pounding he took saw Ned… oh no… act out and change his stripes before the masses. He had to willingly cheat to beat Edgar then turned around and willingly cheated to beat him the second time. What do we call that? Is that not acting out because something didn’t go his way?

Yeah yeah, High Stakes, Doc grabbed my leg blah blah blah. He cheated, not me.

Ned sure does talk a lot but really says very little, doesn’t he? I mean he filled the airtime in his first promo basically just hearing himself talk without making much of a point other than finding new and (un)exciting ways of calling me a child. Been there, heard that. That’s not gonna do it killer, try something else.

You’re right Ned. I’m a bad bad man because I fight for the right of my people to... live. I’ve never claimed I was perfect, never claimed I was a hero, never claimed to not make mistakes. You projecting as much, all that tells me is that you’ve been preoccupied with how the fans treated me differently than you. Or Ned. Or whomever. Whatever, you’re just Ned. Ned tried to be a good little soldier and they liked him, but they didn’t love him. Is it my fault watching Ned Kaye has always been akin to watching pain dry? And not even fun, colorful pain either. Like eggshell white or something. Plain, boring… regular… Ned.

Cry a little more fella… or fellas… know what? I don’t even fuckin’ know anymore.

And while he rants and rants about me hiding this and that… nothing is hidden about me. Everything I have ever done, good bad or indifferent is all out there for the world to see and to make their judgments on. I’m so bad at hiding things that I’m literally like an open fucking book so I’m sure that dossier does anyone a lot of good. If he didn’t know the things I’ve done in my life that I’m not proud of previously, then he (you) wasn’t paying close enough attention.

Oh and for the record, his name was Harold Jenkins. I wear his dogtogs with me everyday, not as a trophy, as you’d like to think, but a reminder of the real cost of war. The human cost of war. See, you paint these pictures of me sitting on some throne sending people to die for me while conveniently forgetting the whole truth. I fight alongside them. On the front lines, in the skies, in the tanks. I’ve been shot, shot at and shot down. I’ve held the intestines of my brothers inside their bodies as they’ve died in my arms. I certainly have blood on my hands, mine, my brothers, and theirs too. I’ll never deny it. But when it comes down to it, you said Ned was a pussy? You said yourself you don’t shed blood so how can you sit in judgment of me when in my world its kill or be killed? Clearly if you were in my shoes, TAPS would play early because you wouldn’t be long for the battlefield.

Oh come on, Ned! Big D? Tell me about other losses I had two years ago. Tell me how that or any of them somehow equate to today. Tell me how harping on losing to Big D once so long ago has any bearing on Ned Kaye and Thaddeus Duke in 2021.

Ned. Can I point something out to you? And I’m being serious.

Never take bait.

Most everyone lays out bait for their intended opponents whether it’s on the show or in promos and it’s your job to identify it as such and not swallow it like your mom should’ve swallowed your dad but instead here you are acting a fool and giving some figurative class and wasting a fuck ton of breath on a throw away line that I knew you’d bite on because you can’t help yourself. You heard his name come out my mouth and you thought you had my balls nailed to the wall while you “cleverly” point out why it makes me a villain.

Laugh.

Out.

Loud.

I told you I wanted the Hart title in my first promo and while Edgar is mentioned, it’s simply to make a particular point about you not having what it takes. Ever, really.

Oh my dude!

Ned this second promo is really something. Remember how I said I was pushing you to get better? Okay I was wrong. Giant step backward here and you called me a check artist? Thad applies pressure and ole Ned Kaye folds in on himself like fuckin’ accordian.

My tag title reign? I had to be pushed to relevance? Jesus you’re absolutely fucking clueless. Go watch the match when it was won: yeah that was me sacrificing my teammate and my opponent to win a match. That’s called a killer instinct and that’s a strand of DNA that you just don’t have.

This dude called my Universal run a hobble. Thad is visibly laughing his ass off. You can say whatever you want about the Universal title run, but there’s two people in this match. Only one of them has ever even had a Universal title run to be called a hobble... and the other person is you.

You can criticize all the gold I’ve worn, Nedward, just as long as I stay gold, Ponyboy.

Awwww look at you. The big bad bad big guy… or something… making jokes of my sexuality, which is clearly bisexual, not homosexual, but go on, make your big boy jokes as if you actually ever had a sense of humor.

See now look, this little rant you have goin’ on. It’s a lot of words but it’s mostly just filler bro. You really gotta work on that. When you talk, make sure your insults actually have basis in reality. For instance, you saying I’m not a good wrestler: if I wasn’t then why is Thad v Page at Snow Job compared to Flair and Steamboat by one of my enemies no less? Page didn’t wrestle himself dumbass.

Listen, if I could suck my own dick I totally would. Any man that says they wouldn’t is lying. But you do realize what we do here right? We call it promoing, but the real word is promoting. That’s what I do, promote myself. Did you expect me to sit down and be like “nope, guys, I’m okay but Ned’s pretty good too and he could win but I really really hope he doesn’t and…” nah bitch it ain’t like that. This is my time to tell you and the world exactly how good I am because little boys like you trying to play in a big mans world alongside people like me just always seem to forget just who the fuck you’re dealing with. I really am the shit and I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

It’s clear to me that over the last couple weeks you’ve gone from cocky and confident, which is good for any defending champion. And you’ve now ventured into “why’s Thad gotta pick on me and want my belt now?” territory. By the way, is me valuing the title to put in my trophy case somehow worse than you not valuing it at all? I didn’t think so.

Ned, the time for me to talk is now coming to an end and I’m sure despite your bravado that you’re breathing a sigh of relief. You’re about to learn first hand what it’s like in the ring with me… I don’t do a lot of talkin’ there. Oh mighty Nefarious One, you can’t be the first victory on my ledger but you will be next. I mean, why stop at seven championships when I can have eight?

And as the late Roddy Piper once said: You do not throw rocks at a man who’s gotta machine gun.


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]]> <![CDATA[The Rebirth]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40950 Sat, 29 May 2021 21:42:25 -0700 Thrax]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40950
[Image: ik182Nk.png]

My eyes were drawn to the illuminated ‘FCW’ lettering along the side of the black brick building. A nauseous deja vu lifted butterflies to flight inside of my charred stomach. I followed the clown….what choice did I have? As we approached the staircase in front of the dark building the demonic jester turned back to me with an expression I could only understand as ‘shiteating annoyance’.

“Alright now look here, fucker- you don’t want to play games with Tickles? Fine. But before we go in here there’s something *really* important that I gotta tell ya!”

I glanced up at the two men posting up at the top of the staircase as the clown’s foul breath wafted my way once more. The men on the top of the stairs looked like normal enough people. I envied their pale flesh, their functioning eyelids. I sighed softly before looking back at my painted tormentor.

“So the short and skinny of it is this: you’ve almost made it to the second layer of hell, bub! All you’ve gotta do is get past one little challenge and you’ll be on your merry way. Think you’re up to the task? HA! Think again! If you were, would this be Hell?! But don’t worry shitso, after this one you only got four more to get through until you reach your final resting place! Hehehehe. I hope you like we got in store for you, BUBSIES!”

I glared down at Tickles the Demon Clown as that fatfuck stuffed himself on my misery.

“Let’s get on with this.”

I growled back flatly at the clown. My anger only seemed to entertain him more.

“Now THAT’S more like it! You’re gonna need all that energy AND THEN SOME to get to the second layer of Hell! We got a special little surprise waiting in here for you, pal! I know you’ve been DREAMING of this rematch for so long! Do you….remember….remember…..remember? Hehehehehe.”

I hid my confusion from the clown as I glanced back up at the illuminated letters on the side of the building. F….C….W….they had to stand for something. But what? I felt the answer was just on the tip of my tongue when….

“Hey BOZO! Let’s go! I got something ta’ show ya! Heh.”

Tickles gestured for me to follow him as he walked briskly up the stairs. I squinted at the familiar lettering once more before turning my head and following the demon up the steps. The clown walked past the two men paying them no mind. The clown pushed open the dual doors and walked into a shroud of darkness. I followed him, for what choice did I have?

As I stepped inside the brick building my burnt nostrils were immediately flushed with the familiar scent of blood, sweat, and tears. The building was packed from wall-to-wall with screaming fans, standing room only. In the center of the building there stood a rickety old wrestling ring with wooden baseboards and no ringside apron.

“Coming up next we have the CO-MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING! INTRODUCING FIRST, STANDING AT A HEIGHT OF NEARLY SIX AND A HALF FEET, WEIGHING NEARLY 230 POUNDS HE IS THE ONE, HE IS THE ONLY-”

My eyes were busy scanning for the entrance ramp when Tickles nudged me in the side to regain my attention.

“Do you remember yet?”

The ending of the introduction went in one ear and out the other as the clown tugged on my arm and looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. Some shitty funk metal song played over the building’s outdated sound system as I looked back at my supposed ‘guide’.

“Maybe it’d be easier to think if you’d shut your trap for once.”

If I still had eyebrows they would have certainly narrowed as I glared down at the sack of walking pigshit beside me.

“Hehehehehe I knew this place would bring that BEAST back out of you! Let me see all you got tonight….oh hey, I know this song!”

What was left of my ears perked up as another entrance theme blared out over the blown-out arena speakers. My eyes drifted onto the wrestler in the ring: a tall but lean man with a thick beard and short haircut. My view of the man in the ring was all but shrouded in darkness as the light’s in the arena slowly dimmed to black. A blue smoke began to shoot out of undisclosed locations around the building. As I listened to the melody of the music, I could swear I had heard it nearly a thousand times before….

“This song sounds so familiar....”

“It was your theme music, you fucking DOLT! Hehehehehe!”

I eyed the clown with deep skepticism as blue lighting beamed down onto the entrance ramp. My eyes were immediately drawn to the armored shadow beneath the extravagant blue lights.

[Image: 6038178b726453333d5acb52-1619711162368.j...ize=1200:*]

It was nearly impossible to hear the ring announcer over the rambunctious roars of the crowd, but I did my best to decipher the jumbled code.

“INTRODUCING NEXT, HAILING FROM ----, HE IS THE MAN YOU --- ---- TO --- -------! HE IS THE ------, ---------, -------- ------- OF THE -------! WEIGHING IN AT 200 AND -- ------, STANDING AT ---------- THREE INCHES TALL! I GIVE TO YOU: -------!”

I watched in wonder as the man in the pauldrons charged down the ramp! Within seconds he had slid beneath the bottom rope! The blue lighting was replaced by traditional overhead lights as the armored man immediately began going to town on his off guard opponent! He hit the unsuspecting foe with a right hand, then a left! Then another right! His opponent was against the ropes! The man in the pauldrons grabbed his rival’s body and locked him into a mai thai clinch against the ropes...but only for a second! The attacker quickly brought a knee up to his foe’s nose! The contact was sickening. The victim fell to the ground, only to then receive a flurry of boots to the body!

“You were FUCKING GOOD! Back in the day, at least. This was going to be your BIG BREAK, don’t you remember?”

I looked back to the clown, but only briefly. The jester had found himself a bag of popcorn and was shoveling fistfuls of it into his mouth in between his commentary. My gaze quickly drifted back to the action in the ring.

“The two of you were finally having your rubber match. Your feud was HOT! But of course it was! It was the big gossip in all the indy dirt sheets! The stories practically wrote themselves. Two friends turned bitter enemies. It’s a tale as old as time!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What? You don’t remember yet? Just keep watching, just keep watching! The good part is still coming up! Hehehehehe.”

My gaze was glued to the figures in the ring. The man with the short hair had finally fought himself out of his predicament, and then some. He had his now pauldron-less opponent backed up into the turnbuckle! The short haired man chopped away at his opponent’s chest. Every chop was quickly followed by a pained yelp. 1, 2, 3, 4 chops followed swiftly by an uppercut was all it took to send the man in the turnbuckle falling down to his ass.

“He got you good with that one! I never knew a few chops could hurt so bad!I might have to start taking notes on the way this guy is whooping your ass!”

My head turned on a swivel as I barked down at the small clown intent on pushing all of my buttons.

“You know damned well that isn’t me in the ring! I’m standing right here! It would take more than a few chops to put me down...”

“Oh, put who down? Put you down? And who exactly ARE you? What’s your name again, pal?”

I growled softly at the clown before my gaze fell down to the floor.

“You don’t even know your own FUCKING name and you’re going to stand here and tell me who the fuck you are and who the fuck you aren’t? You’re a real piece of work, you know that? OH SHIT! LOOK AT THAT MOVE!”

I lifted my head as I peered back into the ring. The tall and slender figure was clotheslining his opponent over the top rope! Both men flew out of the ring! The man with the short hair and the distinctly canadian beard landed on his feet. The man that was supposed to be me had no such luck.

‘My’ opponent didn’t waste any time stomping ‘my’ face onto the concrete floor outside of the ring. I heard bone breaking beneath the boot as blood began to pool beneath ‘my’ head.

“Hey now, it might look and sound gruesome but you had that coming! You’ve been fucking with this guy for a long, loooooong time. You couldn’t have expected him to take it all laying down! He’s not your whore wife, buddy!”

I scowled at the clown before drawing my attention back to the action occurring on the concrete floor next to the ring. Another boot stomp, then another. More blood began to pool beneath the man’s barely breathing body. I winced ever so slightly as another boot came down.

“Hey, that’s not excessive, so don’t even get all emotional! That’s called JUST DESERTS, pal! Hehehehe. Did you really think that costing your partner the FCW tag team gold would just be water under the bridge? You two had to fight tooth and nail to get to the finals in the tag team tournament! Tooth and nail I tell ye, because I’m pretty sure you both lost half a dozen of each in that damned tournament! Hehehehe. All that pain and suffering, all those nights of dreaming...made worthless by one cheap chair shot! Hehehehe. You’ve never been the sneaky type, so what made you think you could sneak a chairshot past the ref in the damn finals?!?! Hehehehehe. You deserve what you’re getting on that concrete!”

I tuned out the lies of the deceiver as I watched the two men go at it outside the ring. There was a suplex. Then a bodyslam onto the steel steps. Then a few more boots. The scene was grisly as an unconscious man’s body was rolled back into the ring. The tall and slender man pushed his opponent onto his back before hooking a leg and covering his chest. The referee jumped to the mat and began the count.


1





2




KICKOUT!

The crowd went nuts as the nearly comatose man lifted up his shoulder ever so slightly. I turned back to Tickles as the referee broke his count.

“It doesn’t look over yet, fiend.”

“Oh just you wait! The good part is still coming up! Hehehe.”

“What are you hoping to prove to me? Just state it and be done! There is no need for this grandiosity. I’m ready to move on!”

I sneered at the clown as I spoke. He giggled in reply.

“Hehehehehe where’s the fun in that?”

I glared at Tickles before turning my attention back to the match. The wounded man was lifted to his feet by his cocky opponent when, all of a sudden,

THE WOBBLY MAN DELIVERS A LOW BLOW OUT OF NOWHERE! IT’S FOLLOWED UP WITH AN IMMEDIATE IMPACT DDT!

The tall and slender man’s head slams against the wooden floorboards of the ring with wicked impact. A few splinters piercing his flesh are visible as he’s rolled over for a pinfall attempt.


1




2



Kickout!

The crowd gasps as the man with short hair lifts a miraculous shoulder. Everyone in the building was completely entranced by the violent carnage in the ring….except for me. That damned clown would never leave me alone.

“Neither of you wanted to lose! You were both going to die before you let yourselves get pinned! But fuck, if there was ever a match to win, it was this one! You two had been scraping by on paltry pay for years by this point. This night was your first chance to change all that. The hype of your feud was starting to earn the eyes of the major leagues. There were XWF scouts in the stands, looking for new talent to sign! Whichever one of you could win the rubber match could count on a BIG FAT PAYCHECK and a contract offer to join the superstars! Or at least that’s what you told your wife, right? Heh.”

I shook my head in derision at the clown before turning back to look at the action in the ring. Both men were on their feet, but they were stumbling around the ring, blinded by the blood in their eyes. They were each lashing out wildly, but missing by a mile. I tried to focus on the match, but the clown just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

“You told your wife everything was going to change after you won this match! You told her that you were finally, after fifteen years in the business, going to get your big break! And she believed it. She believed every word you told her……”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about….”

“Oh, don’t I? Just watch the match, pal!"

As I looked back at the ring I saw both men on the top of one of the turnbuckles. They were trading plays and jockeying for position atop the top rope.

“They’re playing a dangerous game!”

“That’s the only game I know how to play.”

The clown grinned at me as I refused to meet his gaze. My eyes stayed fixed on the violent scene as Tickles tried to prod me once more.

“Hey, we’re making some progress finally! Bout time you recognized that bloody piece of shit laying a turd in the ring! Hehehe.”

I watched myself struggle for dominance on the top rope. I grabbed my rival and pulled him towards me. I saw myself hook an arm over the man’s neck and grab his waists before shooting off the toprope. The two men flew high in the air as they leapt off the top rope, one suplexing the other. The image was like something on a magazine cover: two men, floating high in the air as the gasping audience waited for them to fall.

And fall they did.

Their bodies landed with a sickening thud against the concrete floor. The audience went silent as the two men laid still on the concrete floor. A puddle of blood began to pool between the men’s broken bodies. A team of paramedics came running down the entrance ramp with a stretcher. Tickles wouldn’t stop fucking laughing as I watched the two men lay perfectly still…..I hoped against hope that one of them would rise to their feet.

“BOOM, BANG, BAM! And just like that your sorry ass was back where you started! Ah shit, I think I see the talent scouts leaving the building! What a way to blow your big shot! You knocked yourself out in front of the recruiters, YOU DUMMY! Why would they sign you now?!?! They probably thought both of you had brain damage after that tumble!.....well, they were right about you at least! Hehehehehe.”

I looked at the unconscious men with shame and disappointment. Could that have been me inside the ring? I don’t remember this match at all…..but I don’t remember any of my matches. The man moved like me, he hit like me, he bled like me…...was that me laying there unconscious? Was this the night I died?

“Look on the bright side, pal! At least you didn’t TECHNICALLY lie to your wife, eh? Everything did change after this match! Finally, after fifteen years, your family had a real change! A change of pace, a change of scenery, a change for the better!”

I watched as the paramedics tried to cram two bodies onto one stretcher. It didn’t work out well. The stretcher collapsed as the paramedics went to lift it. The paramedics began to panic as they ran back to the locker rooms to grab more stretchers.

“No…..you’re lying! I didn’t die here! I’m greater than this….I have to be!”

“Oh you didn’t die here, dickweed! Your career didn’t even die here, although it probably should have! But do you know what DID die here, old top?”

I turned back to the clown as a sick curiosity took hold of my mind.

“Your wife’s love for you! She stuck beside you through thick and thin but, eventually, your head just got too thick and your pockets just got too thin! She couldn’t bear it anymore! She couldn’t stomach you anymore! She was tired of paying your bills and raising your children while you went off to LOSE, match after match. This was the last straw! After she paid forty bucks for a pay per view just to watch you lose, AGAIN, she called it quits! You told her this time would be different. You told her it was a good idea to empty your savings account to go train at a top gym for this fight! You told her you’d have the rent money after you got your victory bonus!

You fucking idiot. She should have walked out on your sorry ass a long, long time before this. But frilly little emotions like love kept your wife from realizing she married a failure….until this night.”

“Silence!”

I screamed at the clown in anguish as the shattered fragments of my memory slowly came back to me.

“Hehehehe did I strike a nerve, big guy? You just couldn’t get it done! Set your career back YEARS, it even destroyed your marriage! Both of you fell flat on your faces! The hype train got derailed and the former tag team wonders turned into a pair of singles blunders! No wonder you two didn’t wanna dig up that old history when you finally made the big leagues and came face to face with each other in the XWF!”

“You’re lying! That wasn’t me. I wouldn’t lose to such a scrub! I would have won this match!”

“You literally didn’t! Hehehe. You didn’t start that mean winning streak until your wife walked out on you and took the kids with her! That really broke ya, big guy, oh yes it did. And when your big shot finally did come again, and you signed that contract…..you didn’t have a single person to celebrate with. HA!”

I turned away from the clown and looked back at the two men laying still on the concrete floor. The paramedics still hadn’t returned from the locker room with another set of stretchers. I buried my burnt face inside of my charred palms.

“No….that couldn’t have been me…..I never lose…”

“Oh yeah?”

The clown smirked at me with smug satisfaction.

“Prove it.”

My head turned on a swivel as the clown shoveled some more popcorn into his gluttonous gullet. I cocked my head to the side as I looked at the clown expectantly.

“Shit, might as well give it to you straight, eh? You obviously lost this match, you fucking dolt. Double knockout, double loss! It’s your memory we’re pulling all this shit from! This was an awful night for you. You didn’t regain consciousness until the next morning. But while you were seeing stars and flying with the tweety birds, your wife was changing the locks and calling up her ex! When you got home you were expecting a kiss on the cheek and a few words of encouragement...hehehe…..you got divorce papers instead, dummy!

But hey, down here in Hell we’re good people. Don’t go listening to all that Christian shittalk, down here in the depths of the abyss we know how to get even! You think you could have won that match? Well why don’t we head down to the ring and have a little do-over. It’s what you’re here for, pal. You want to move on from me? You tired of talking to your good friend Tickles? Well go pin that sorry sob and you’ll never have to hear from me again! But guess what, fucker?”

Tickles leaned forward as I contorted my exposed facial muscles. He spat chunks of popcorn on my face as he spoke.

“If you fail, you never get to leave! You’ll keep fighting him, and losing, and fighting him, and losing...for all eternity! Hehehehehehe.”

I wiped the popcorn spittle off my face as I responded.

“If I pin him, you will finally leave me alone?”

“Yes siree! But be careful: if you win, you’ll advance to the next layer...hehehe.”

“It can’t be any worse than dealing with you.”

I started pushing my way through the crowd as I walked to the ring. Tickles was giggling, following my trail closely. Behind Tickles, a trail of popcorn chunks littered the floor. I pushed past the front row and hopped the security barricade. There was no one stopping me. I walked right over to the two downed men. My gaze drifted between the two sorry souls before I grabbed the skinnier man and threw his bloody corpse underneath the bottom rope. I slid in the ring right after him, as did Tickles.

I immediately hooked the leg of the unconscious man for a pinfall. I waited for the count...it never came.

“Hehehe not so fast buddy. We need to do the introductions!”

The lights in the arena dimmed as a microphone magically appeared inside of the clown’s hands. Tickles tossed the empty popcorn bag over the top rope before raising the microphone to his mouth.

“LADIES AND GENTLECUCKS…..IT’S TIME FOR OUR MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING!”

The crowd roared back to life as the arena lights turned back to their full capacity.

“Hey fucker, get off him, let him get to his corner!”

Tickles kicked me with the force of a thousand horses, sending me flying off my foe and into the turnbuckle. Tickles bended down and grabbed the unconscious man by the head before literally flinging him over his shoulder and into the turnbuckle opposite me.

“IN THIS CORNER!”

Tickles pointed at me.

“Weighing in at way too fucking much and standing not nearly as tall as he likes to claim, he doesn’t even know his own name so I’m just going to call him…….MOTHERFUCKNIG THRAX!”

The crowd roared rambunctiously….but they don’t even know who I am. The peons in the stands have always been gullible gluts with no minds of their owns.

“AND IN THIS CORNER!”

Tickles pointed at the bloody and unconscious man in the opposite corner.

“HE IS THE ONE, THE ONLY, DEMON OF YOUR DREAMS!”

“What?”

CRAAAACCKKKK

SNAAAAAAPPPPP

POP!

Before my very eyes the man’s flesh began to fold in on itself and take a new shape. The bone’s inside the man’s body cracked, breaking themselves in pieces as they expanded and contracted. The man’s arms grew out of his sides. Loose skin began to build beneath the man’s extending arms. The once comatose human shook his head from side to side as he wrapped his elongated arms around himself. A few seconds passed before the beast shrieked and unfurled its wings, displaying it’s new form for the world to see.

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The batlike creature towered over me from the other side of the ring. The monster stared into my eyes as a familiar voice whispered to me from the back of my mind...

“I’m going to open you up to a whole new world of pain and suffering you couldn’t even dream about...”

The bat grinned at me as Tickles brought the microphone up to his mouth one more time.

“LET’S GET IT ON!”

The bell rang and Tickles quickly scurried beneath the bottom rope. The demon bat screeched before charging at me! I darted to a different turnbuckle, barely avoiding the swinging claws of the hellspawn raised against me.

“He almost got ya that time!”

Tickles heckled me from outside the ring, but I didn’t dare pay him any mind. The demon turned it’s head on a swivel and stared at me with a bloodthirsty grin. It charged once more. Once again, I fled to another corner for safety.

“Come on! Fight him you prick!”

I turned around once I reached the new corner, only to see that the beast was quicker than I thought! It was nearly upon me! I lifted my right boot into the air just in time. The smooshed face of the bat creature slammed against my black boot, sending the creature reeling away from me. I charged out of the corner before leaving my feet and hitting a running bulldog on the bat!

The bat screeched and clawed at my face as we landed on the mat together. The long talons of the beast tore off pieces off my exposed flesh. I pushed off of the beast and backed up to my feet. I raised my fists instinctively as I prepared to box the bat.

The bat was much slower to its feet than I was. The creature’s unusual proportions made it slow and lethargic in it’s movements: there was no nimbleness or dexterity paired with the monster’s immeasurable strength. As the bat pushed itself back up to his feet I immediately moved in on it, being sure to keep a close watch on the beast’s long talons.

As I cautiously approached the bat it shrieked at me once more. When I looked inside of its agape mouth I saw long fangs chomping at the bit. The beast followed it’s screech with a slash from it’s talon! I rolled out of the way of the blow, doding right past the beast’s legs as I did so. I rolled onto my knees before turning around and charlie horsing the bat in the leg. I heard cartilage crack as my knuckles made contact.

The beast tumbled forward on to the ropes as I took it’s leg out from underneath it. I looked at the wounded bat, then I turned my head to look at the turnbuckle closest to me. I ran like a madman to that corner. With my back turned to the beast, I made my preparations quick and efficient. I knew I didn’t have much time…..but I didn’t think it would recover this quickly!

Just as I had removed the padding from the top turnbuckle I felt the thunderous footsteps of the bat charging towards me! The wooden floorboards creaked loudly beneath the bat’s weight, causing the ring to wobble back and forth every time the creature lifted it’s sprinting legs. I knew I didn’t have time to dodge out of the turnbuckle this go around…..so I collapsed to my knees. I felt the full weight of the bat run headfirst into the exposed turnbuckle. From the vibrations on the wood I could feel the creature stumbling backwards.

When I looked between the first and second ropes I saw Tickles talking to a woman dressed in high fashion. Tickles was looking at her ass as he spoke to her, but the woman’s gaze was fully upon me.

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I didn’t have time to make goggly eyes at the hot asian bimbo outside the ring. I pushed myself to my feet and turned around. The bat creature turned around, too, and on the top of it’s forehead I could see a river of green blood flowing down it’s disgusting face.

“COME ON! GIVE ME ALL YOU GOT YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!”

I taunted the bat as I gestured for it to charge at me. The creature went into a rage! It came sprinting across the ring once more, but this time, I charged forward to meet it head on!.....or so the mindless monster thought.

I wouldn’t fail again.

I slid beneath the monster’s legs as we neared each other. As I slid beneath the monster I grabbed it’s feet and lifted them from the ground, forcing the bat to fall to it’s stomach. Within almost no time at all I had twisted back around and locked in an STF submission! The bat screeched in pain as I cranked back on its neck! The bat flapped it’s powerful wings against the mat, but it was no use, I was never letting go of the hold!

As the bat floundered beneath me I made eye contact with the beautiful woman standing next to Tickles. She smiled as I ripped the bat’s head off of it’s neck. A geyser of green blood sprayed out from the creature’s neck as I stood tall in the ring. I held the bat’s head above my own, letting it’s blood coat my flesh as the audience roared.

Tickles slid into the ring, followed closely by the woman who clearly wanted this charred dick deep inside of her. It’s a shame I had nothing left to give her.

“Well that’s not quite what I fucking expected but hey pal, I guess you did the fucking job huh? Reaaal proud of yourself, aren’t ya? Fucking piece of shit. But hey, fair is fair and a deal’s a deal. Hehehe. But, there's been a slight change of plans."

Tickles was tossing a small brown sack up and down inside the palm of his left hand. Coins jingled inside the pouch as the smiling clown played with the brown bag before stuffing it into his pocket. Tickles gestured towards the woman in the white dress beside him.

“My friend here thought ya did reaaaaalllll good in that little bat match. So guess what? You’re not going to the second layer of Hell, bub. At least not today. But we’ll be seeing you reaaaaaalll soon, pal. Heheheh-.”

I threw the bloody bat head at Tickles the clown. The force of the massive head slamming against his tiny body sent the clown flying out of the ring between the ropes. I spit his way before turning my gaze upon the lovely woman speaking to me in the ring.

“That was highly impressive. I’ve been having a bit of a bat problem myself. I made an arrangement with your....."

The woman looks over to the clown who is still laying down on the concrete outside of the ring.

"Friend. Basically, he 'sold' you to me for a few weeks. But don't think of this as slavery: think of it as a new kind of freedom. A temporary freedom, a respite from this awful place, until you're able to fulfill the clown's end of the bargain."

"I just want to get the fuck out of here."

"Say no more, say no more...."

The woman snapped her fingers and created a swirling blue portal in the middle of the ring.

"Come along now."

The woman gestured for me to follow her as she stepped into the portal. I looked down at the dead, headless bat leaking out green goo on the floor. Then I looked over to Tickles the clown, who was slowly stirring outside of the ring. I cast a few loogies in both directions before following the woman through the blue portal.


End Scene



I can smell the sweet scent of death in these halls. Can you?

Thrax looked into the camera as we opened with a shot of this extravagantly dressed man walking down a hallway with various carts, cameras, and weapons lining the eggshell colored walls. The XWF logo appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. Thrax pauses briefly to take a deep inhalation of the air around him.

It. Smells. Glorious!

Thrax continues walking towards the backpedaling camera after breathing in the salty, sweaty air trapped inside the XWF facilities. Thrax stops walking as he comes upon an open door on his left. Thrax tucks his head inside the locker room, only to find that nobody is home.

I believe they call this time of the year ‘spring cleaning’.

Thrax steps through the open doorway and into the men’s locker room, which is clearly identified by the sign standing at shoulder height right next to the door. The camera follows Thrax into the gray room lined with open-facing wooden lockers.

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The broken bodies, the crushed dreams, the expiring contracts…..they are all flushed down the drain this time of year. So many men will step through these halls once, twice, maybe three times: and then never again. Their bones were too brittle, their souls were too soft. They could never withstand the anarchy, the savagery, and the warfare they were subjected to. They just weren’t built for this lifestyle, despite their deeply held delusions.

Delusions I would shatter, one body blow at a time.

It’s a dog eat dog world, and the poodles don’t seem to make it very far once the rottweilers and pitbulls get involved. I know I’ve chowed down on my fair share of chihuahuas and pomeranians inside this very room. Have you?

Thrax eyed the camera with a raised eyebrow. The ears of his crimson cloak mimicked the gesture.

Most of you are nothing but mutts in my industry. Shaggy, unkempt, and only halfway viable: but at least you know your place. Most of you mutts know to get out of the way when the real thoroughbreds walk into the building. You know what would happen if you didn’t, and you have no intention of winding up caged and euthanized at the hands of your betters.

But some of you still don’t understand your role in this world. Some of you still seem so desperate to believe you’re the main characters of this story. A few of you cling to foolish notions, believing yourselves invincible solely because you’ve yet to feel my wrath. Keep your delusions close to your heart….it will make it that much more fun to rip your dreams of glory away from you.

A faint grin stretched out the latex of the man’s mask near his mouth.

I’ve ripped a lot of dreams away from a lot of mutts over the years. I’ve learned a good deal about junkyard hounds during my journey. I know all their behaviors, all their predilections, all the signs of their impending demise.

A hit dog will holler, a dying dog will scream. But a dead dog? A dead dog stays silent. A dead dog no longer clings to fanciful fairy tales of safety. A dead dog knows help isn’t coming.

Thrax looks at the empty wooden lockers decorating the room. His eyes seem to drift onto a set of three lockers in particular. Thrax takes a few steps towards the empty vessels for hopes, dreams, and ring attire.

I see a whole lot of dead dogs in these lockers. Hanging upside down from their paws, dried blood decorating their carcasses like warpaint. The lashings were too much for them: they never even had the chance to scream. These mongrels weren’t cut out for a match of this caliber.

Thrax’s gaze drifted onto the leftmost locker before him.

RL Edgar…..when was the last time you won a singles match? Has it really been months? My my, no wonder you were so willing to descend into the other side….

Thrax’s gaze drifted onto the center most locker in front of him.

Ariel Dixon…..this isn’t a live action remake of Lady and the Tramp. Your masked lover won’t be able to shield you from the pain and devastation. After tomorrow night his body will lay just like yours does now, limp and lifeless against the floor....
Thrax’s gaze fell upon the rightmost of the three lockers in front of him.

Sil Frigida…..did you finally overdose on all those ‘vitamins’ and ‘supplements’? Be careful, mafioso. If you haven’t already been neutered, those testes are going to shrivel! As goes a man’s ball sack so goes his courage, I suppose….

Thrax looked intermittently between the three empty lockers in front of him.

Your vile stench fills our nostrils with failure….but at least you mutts are smart enough to keep our ears free of your yapping. If you’re not dead yet, you know you soon will be. You knew you were dead the moment your name appeared besides mine on the card. Why fight the inevitable? The three of you have made the smart choice, and gone peacefully into that good night….

If only your wisdom could be imparted upon the hollering hounds across the way.

Thrax walked away from the three empty lockers without another word their way. Thrax walked over to a row of wooden lockers across the room. The man in the elaborate outfit came to a standstill as he stared into a locker tucked into the corner of the room.

You sure have been hollering a lot over here, isn’t that right, Ghost Tank? Or is it Oswald now? Does it even matter?

You’re still the same joke you’ve always been, even with a fresh coat of paint and a new gimmick. What are you even hollering about, boy? No one’s hit you yet. No one has laid into you. No one has spent any considerable amount of time thinking about you, let alone speaking about you. So why do you holler so much, hmmmm, ghost pup? No one pays you any mind whatsoever.

Is that why you yap so much? Do you think your nasty shrieks and thirsty pleas will reach the ears of your superiors? They won’t. They never have, and they never will. You know why, Ozzy?

Because your bark is worse than your bite. MUCH worse than your bite. No one is afraid of you, even when you bare your fangs and leap to pounce. You don’t even have the capacity to instill fear in the hearts of children. Wasn’t it Solace Tatum, a near child herself, that embarrassed you on national television? She certainly didn’t fear you. So why should I?

She didn’t even RESPECT you, Ghost Tank. She was nothing but a newborn baby in a manger coming into this federation, and even she knew better than to take you seriously. She batted you around like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. A left, a right, and an uppercut from a schoolgirl was all it took to knock Oswald off of his self-made pedestal. She would have taken that little belt of yours, too...if she thought it was worth a damn. But she didn’t respect you, and she damn sure didn’t respect that trinket you carry around.

Solace Tatum was right to refuse the ‘championship’ she won. She would’ve looked like a fool raising that toy above her head with pride. Solace Tatum would rather die than be known as a ‘Billion Dollar’ champion. She made the right choice.

But you, Oswald?

You just can’t ever seem to make the right choice, can you? You’re as hot as you’ve been in YEARS, and still there is no sizzle to your sauce. You’re still riding high from your win over Demos….it’s the most impressive win you’ve had in years…..so why did you choose to bring all that ‘momentum’ to a screeching halt? Why did you choose to enter into a match you never had a hope of winning?

Your win over Demos is nothing impressive, you should know this better than anyone. You say it all the time: Demos isn’t impressive, he’s not an icon, he’s not a star. He’s just another coward hiding behind a mask. So what does a victory over Demos qualify you for? Do you and Rel get to share Demos come nightfall? Is that what a victory over the Demos earns you, a gaped asshole and a mouthful of cock? Neither you nor Rel Dixon will ever hold a briefcase. One victory over Demos simply doesn’t cut it at this stage of the game.

What, you were once a legitimate champion? Weren’t we all. But you were a champion in the age of Peter Gilmour, Jim Caedus, and Shane . I was a champion in the age of Sarah Lacklan, Robert Main, and Thunder Knuckles.

I was the GREATEST champion of all time in my division. How about you, Oswald? Did you set any records with your reigns?

Didn’t think so.

You had plenty of chances back when the federation was filled with Gilmours and Caedus’s….but now? Now you’re stuck clinging to fake title, trying to make it matter, and failing every step of the way.

So quit your yapping, mutt!

Thrax growled at the empty locker before walking away from it. Thrax begins to walk down a row of empty walkers before he suddenly stops and turns to look inside one of them.

Oh, well what do we have here?

Thrax approached the empty locker before poking his head into it while gazing downwards.

Do you think your snarling is convincing? Intimidating, even?

It seems we have a classic case of big dog syndrome.

The runt of the litter always has the nastiest attitude. But I can’t fault you for wishing to mark your territory and make your presence known….if you weren’t so loudly braggadocious, would anyone even remember your accomplishments?

Of course they would, you're a five time tag team champion, after all. But would they respect your accomplishments? Or would they simply be dismissed as victories over the likes of Peter Gilmour and Scully? When people look at Chris Chaos....what do they see? Do they see one of the most decorated wrestlers in our business, or do they see a narcissist too busy ego tripping to make the XWF touring schedule?

We both know the answer to that question, so what do you think growling and barking is going to change? The more you run your jaws the less we missed you. It is easy to miss someone when they're absent: you just think of all the good times you had, of all the successfully and joyous moments. But when they come back to you?

Thrax shakes his head from side to side.

They're nothing like you imagined they were. They are EXACTLY like you remembered them to be. All their flaws, all their deficiencies, they're shoved straight into your face the moment the absent becomes the present. Chaos seems intent to shove them all in your face just a little bit harder than most.

But it won't make a difference. In the end, it never does.

The stronger hound always wins the dogfight, no matter which mutt barked more in their cages. So keep on barking, Chris Chaos. Maybe someone will care about you enough to adopt you one day...

Thrax turned to walk away from the locker room before pulling himself back to it.

Actually, on second thought....no one deserves to hear your endless yapping!

The ears of Thrax's cloak shot into the empty locker like the claws of a praying mantis, making two quick snips of an invisible object before Thrax. A quiet'YIP!'
 shot out from the locker as the cloak stabbed into...something. Thrax grinned at the empty locker room as he caressed the left ear of his cloak.

What a good boy....

Blood began to pool at the bottom of the locker as Thrax stepped away from it.

Now.....to deal with you.

Thrax walked down the set of lockers until he was at the last locker in the row. Thrax turned to face the empty locker as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You sure do scream a lot, don't you, Caedus? About anything and everything, you screech like a banshee endlessly. No topic is too minute, too irrelevant, or too far off course for Caedus. He just loves to hear his own voice. It doesn't matter to him if the words are logical or consistent with reality: all that matters is that Caedus said them. Isn't that right?

Thrax chuckled to himself as he removed his arms from his chest. Thrax put his hands on either side of the locker as he looked down at the empty space beneath him.

I know why you scream so endlessly, Caedus.

You're a dying dog. I'm surprised you're not dead already.

Your star has long since faded, the paychecks stopped arriving in your mailbox years ago. How has your life been since you left the XWF?

I notice it's a topic you tend to stray away from, but from the shadows, I see everything.

You would rather live in the past than embrace the present. I would too, if I were you. If my future were as bleak as yours I too would feel the urge to scream, to cry, to go all out. But it won't matter. In the end, it never does. My victims have always given me their best, they've always fought my will tooth and nail. But you, Caedus? You haven't had enough money to see a dentist in years. What teeth do you have left to bite me with? When your piss stained canines meet my flesh they will rip themselves from your jaw in shame.

You have always been a fool, but now, you've been reduced to a beggar. You've been subsisting on table scraps since your money dried up in 2018. For a few golden years you had more dollars that sense. But now? Years of poor decisions and no planning has left you stranded on the ocean of life with no fuel in your boat and no service on your cellphone. You've been living life at the fringe of society ever since the XWF moved on from you. You've grown desperate.

And out of desperation grows obedience.

So it is no surprise that as soon as Loverboy Lane called you answered on the first ring. When he offered you a job you told him you'd do ANYTHING to keep a spot on the roster. Ever since that day you've been licking Lane's boots and embracing his flatulence. You NEED the 'Bossman' to like you. Without the approval of your 'Bossman' you will be right back on those streets, living in your van down by the river!

When Vinnie Lane says jump, Jim Caedus asks how high. When Vinnie Lane says bend over, Caedus only asks whether or not he should spread his cheeks to allow Lane an easier time with those pesky contractual obligations.

I may be scarred and disfigured, but you Caedus, YOU are the truly unrecognizable one. You are the one who has changed.

Where is the Jim Caedus from years ago who was his own man? Where is the Jim Caedus who earned his spot in the top 10 of all time? Where is the outlaw Jim Caedus that gave no fucks and left no survivors?

We haven't seen him in years! Now all we're left with is a prissy Sheriff's Deputy that spends more time sucking off corporate executives than actually wrestling!

It's true, Caedus. You have LITERALLY spent more time in the past year talking about how great, powerful, and strong Vinnie Lane is than you have spent wrestling!

So why are you screaming at such a fever pitch? Why do you demand to be taken so seriously? Why do you seem so content to talk the talk when you could have been walking the walk for months?

Thrax kneels down as he stares straight ahead, as if making eye contact with something inside of the open locker.

I know why. You do, too.

Jim Caedus simply doesn't have -it- anymore. It's been years since he's been in the gym, let alone the ring. Even the dead man walking has more XWF victories this decade than Caedus!

Caedus's plan is to talk a big game so that way no one looks his way when the actual bell rings. He wants all the top dogs to steer clear off him, to give him space, breadth. He wants to be able to fight at his pace, against who he wants, when he wants to. Then, when he loses, he can simply say he was so busy kicking ass that he completely forgot to grab the briefcase. It would be a believable enough excuse, right? This is a ten man match. There are so many competitors going up to the moon that they're going to be lost in the crowd, and anyone could wind up coming down with that briefcase. Just because Jim isn't going to walk away with the briefcase doesn't mean he's a loser, it doesn't mean he can't go the distance anymore....right?

That's what Caedus is hoping for. That's the illusion, that's the narrative Vinnie Lane is helping him so desperately craft.

But maybe, Caedus.....maybe it won't be a ten man match after all. Isn't that right?

Thrax grinned at the invisible dog as he let the question linger for a moment.

You think you've picked up on something no one else in this match has. You think you've uncovered some sort of scandalous secret. Even if your body is going by the wayside, your mental faculties are as sharp as ever....or so you like to think. You put your nose to the ground and you followed the trail all the way home. You caught the culprit red handed, didn't you?

Thrax's smirk grew as the ears of his cape shook slightly.

So why don't you say it with your chest, little man?

Thrax cocked his head to the side as if awaiting a response. When none came he returned to his normative kneeling posture.

Are you not confident in your abilities? Perhaps you're wise to hedge your bets. You're a mutt, not a bloodhound.

But still, Caedus.....why play such childish games? If you think you know the truth why not simply SPEAK IT to existence, and force my shadow to evaporate off the wall?

Why hide behind illusion and false ink? Why hide behind vague subtleties?

Go on, Caedus.......we both know you THINK you've figured it all out.

Why don't you tell the whole world exactly who, or perhaps WHAT, I am?

Thrax leaned his face into the locker room and squinted his eyes at the non-existent dog in a cage. The tops of the hellspawn's crimson cloak narrowed towards each other as they pointed menacingly towards the wooden lock.

I'm waiting.
]]>
[Image: ik182Nk.png]

My eyes were drawn to the illuminated ‘FCW’ lettering along the side of the black brick building. A nauseous deja vu lifted butterflies to flight inside of my charred stomach. I followed the clown….what choice did I have? As we approached the staircase in front of the dark building the demonic jester turned back to me with an expression I could only understand as ‘shiteating annoyance’.

“Alright now look here, fucker- you don’t want to play games with Tickles? Fine. But before we go in here there’s something *really* important that I gotta tell ya!”

I glanced up at the two men posting up at the top of the staircase as the clown’s foul breath wafted my way once more. The men on the top of the stairs looked like normal enough people. I envied their pale flesh, their functioning eyelids. I sighed softly before looking back at my painted tormentor.

“So the short and skinny of it is this: you’ve almost made it to the second layer of hell, bub! All you’ve gotta do is get past one little challenge and you’ll be on your merry way. Think you’re up to the task? HA! Think again! If you were, would this be Hell?! But don’t worry shitso, after this one you only got four more to get through until you reach your final resting place! Hehehehe. I hope you like we got in store for you, BUBSIES!”

I glared down at Tickles the Demon Clown as that fatfuck stuffed himself on my misery.

“Let’s get on with this.”

I growled back flatly at the clown. My anger only seemed to entertain him more.

“Now THAT’S more like it! You’re gonna need all that energy AND THEN SOME to get to the second layer of Hell! We got a special little surprise waiting in here for you, pal! I know you’ve been DREAMING of this rematch for so long! Do you….remember….remember…..remember? Hehehehehe.”

I hid my confusion from the clown as I glanced back up at the illuminated letters on the side of the building. F….C….W….they had to stand for something. But what? I felt the answer was just on the tip of my tongue when….

“Hey BOZO! Let’s go! I got something ta’ show ya! Heh.”

Tickles gestured for me to follow him as he walked briskly up the stairs. I squinted at the familiar lettering once more before turning my head and following the demon up the steps. The clown walked past the two men paying them no mind. The clown pushed open the dual doors and walked into a shroud of darkness. I followed him, for what choice did I have?

As I stepped inside the brick building my burnt nostrils were immediately flushed with the familiar scent of blood, sweat, and tears. The building was packed from wall-to-wall with screaming fans, standing room only. In the center of the building there stood a rickety old wrestling ring with wooden baseboards and no ringside apron.

“Coming up next we have the CO-MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING! INTRODUCING FIRST, STANDING AT A HEIGHT OF NEARLY SIX AND A HALF FEET, WEIGHING NEARLY 230 POUNDS HE IS THE ONE, HE IS THE ONLY-”

My eyes were busy scanning for the entrance ramp when Tickles nudged me in the side to regain my attention.

“Do you remember yet?”

The ending of the introduction went in one ear and out the other as the clown tugged on my arm and looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. Some shitty funk metal song played over the building’s outdated sound system as I looked back at my supposed ‘guide’.

“Maybe it’d be easier to think if you’d shut your trap for once.”

If I still had eyebrows they would have certainly narrowed as I glared down at the sack of walking pigshit beside me.

“Hehehehehe I knew this place would bring that BEAST back out of you! Let me see all you got tonight….oh hey, I know this song!”

What was left of my ears perked up as another entrance theme blared out over the blown-out arena speakers. My eyes drifted onto the wrestler in the ring: a tall but lean man with a thick beard and short haircut. My view of the man in the ring was all but shrouded in darkness as the light’s in the arena slowly dimmed to black. A blue smoke began to shoot out of undisclosed locations around the building. As I listened to the melody of the music, I could swear I had heard it nearly a thousand times before….

“This song sounds so familiar....”

“It was your theme music, you fucking DOLT! Hehehehehe!”

I eyed the clown with deep skepticism as blue lighting beamed down onto the entrance ramp. My eyes were immediately drawn to the armored shadow beneath the extravagant blue lights.

[Image: 6038178b726453333d5acb52-1619711162368.j...ize=1200:*]

It was nearly impossible to hear the ring announcer over the rambunctious roars of the crowd, but I did my best to decipher the jumbled code.

“INTRODUCING NEXT, HAILING FROM ----, HE IS THE MAN YOU --- ---- TO --- -------! HE IS THE ------, ---------, -------- ------- OF THE -------! WEIGHING IN AT 200 AND -- ------, STANDING AT ---------- THREE INCHES TALL! I GIVE TO YOU: -------!”

I watched in wonder as the man in the pauldrons charged down the ramp! Within seconds he had slid beneath the bottom rope! The blue lighting was replaced by traditional overhead lights as the armored man immediately began going to town on his off guard opponent! He hit the unsuspecting foe with a right hand, then a left! Then another right! His opponent was against the ropes! The man in the pauldrons grabbed his rival’s body and locked him into a mai thai clinch against the ropes...but only for a second! The attacker quickly brought a knee up to his foe’s nose! The contact was sickening. The victim fell to the ground, only to then receive a flurry of boots to the body!

“You were FUCKING GOOD! Back in the day, at least. This was going to be your BIG BREAK, don’t you remember?”

I looked back to the clown, but only briefly. The jester had found himself a bag of popcorn and was shoveling fistfuls of it into his mouth in between his commentary. My gaze quickly drifted back to the action in the ring.

“The two of you were finally having your rubber match. Your feud was HOT! But of course it was! It was the big gossip in all the indy dirt sheets! The stories practically wrote themselves. Two friends turned bitter enemies. It’s a tale as old as time!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What? You don’t remember yet? Just keep watching, just keep watching! The good part is still coming up! Hehehehehe.”

My gaze was glued to the figures in the ring. The man with the short hair had finally fought himself out of his predicament, and then some. He had his now pauldron-less opponent backed up into the turnbuckle! The short haired man chopped away at his opponent’s chest. Every chop was quickly followed by a pained yelp. 1, 2, 3, 4 chops followed swiftly by an uppercut was all it took to send the man in the turnbuckle falling down to his ass.

“He got you good with that one! I never knew a few chops could hurt so bad!I might have to start taking notes on the way this guy is whooping your ass!”

My head turned on a swivel as I barked down at the small clown intent on pushing all of my buttons.

“You know damned well that isn’t me in the ring! I’m standing right here! It would take more than a few chops to put me down...”

“Oh, put who down? Put you down? And who exactly ARE you? What’s your name again, pal?”

I growled softly at the clown before my gaze fell down to the floor.

“You don’t even know your own FUCKING name and you’re going to stand here and tell me who the fuck you are and who the fuck you aren’t? You’re a real piece of work, you know that? OH SHIT! LOOK AT THAT MOVE!”

I lifted my head as I peered back into the ring. The tall and slender figure was clotheslining his opponent over the top rope! Both men flew out of the ring! The man with the short hair and the distinctly canadian beard landed on his feet. The man that was supposed to be me had no such luck.

‘My’ opponent didn’t waste any time stomping ‘my’ face onto the concrete floor outside of the ring. I heard bone breaking beneath the boot as blood began to pool beneath ‘my’ head.

“Hey now, it might look and sound gruesome but you had that coming! You’ve been fucking with this guy for a long, loooooong time. You couldn’t have expected him to take it all laying down! He’s not your whore wife, buddy!”

I scowled at the clown before drawing my attention back to the action occurring on the concrete floor next to the ring. Another boot stomp, then another. More blood began to pool beneath the man’s barely breathing body. I winced ever so slightly as another boot came down.

“Hey, that’s not excessive, so don’t even get all emotional! That’s called JUST DESERTS, pal! Hehehehe. Did you really think that costing your partner the FCW tag team gold would just be water under the bridge? You two had to fight tooth and nail to get to the finals in the tag team tournament! Tooth and nail I tell ye, because I’m pretty sure you both lost half a dozen of each in that damned tournament! Hehehehe. All that pain and suffering, all those nights of dreaming...made worthless by one cheap chair shot! Hehehehe. You’ve never been the sneaky type, so what made you think you could sneak a chairshot past the ref in the damn finals?!?! Hehehehehe. You deserve what you’re getting on that concrete!”

I tuned out the lies of the deceiver as I watched the two men go at it outside the ring. There was a suplex. Then a bodyslam onto the steel steps. Then a few more boots. The scene was grisly as an unconscious man’s body was rolled back into the ring. The tall and slender man pushed his opponent onto his back before hooking a leg and covering his chest. The referee jumped to the mat and began the count.


1





2




KICKOUT!

The crowd went nuts as the nearly comatose man lifted up his shoulder ever so slightly. I turned back to Tickles as the referee broke his count.

“It doesn’t look over yet, fiend.”

“Oh just you wait! The good part is still coming up! Hehehe.”

“What are you hoping to prove to me? Just state it and be done! There is no need for this grandiosity. I’m ready to move on!”

I sneered at the clown as I spoke. He giggled in reply.

“Hehehehehe where’s the fun in that?”

I glared at Tickles before turning my attention back to the match. The wounded man was lifted to his feet by his cocky opponent when, all of a sudden,

THE WOBBLY MAN DELIVERS A LOW BLOW OUT OF NOWHERE! IT’S FOLLOWED UP WITH AN IMMEDIATE IMPACT DDT!

The tall and slender man’s head slams against the wooden floorboards of the ring with wicked impact. A few splinters piercing his flesh are visible as he’s rolled over for a pinfall attempt.


1




2



Kickout!

The crowd gasps as the man with short hair lifts a miraculous shoulder. Everyone in the building was completely entranced by the violent carnage in the ring….except for me. That damned clown would never leave me alone.

“Neither of you wanted to lose! You were both going to die before you let yourselves get pinned! But fuck, if there was ever a match to win, it was this one! You two had been scraping by on paltry pay for years by this point. This night was your first chance to change all that. The hype of your feud was starting to earn the eyes of the major leagues. There were XWF scouts in the stands, looking for new talent to sign! Whichever one of you could win the rubber match could count on a BIG FAT PAYCHECK and a contract offer to join the superstars! Or at least that’s what you told your wife, right? Heh.”

I shook my head in derision at the clown before turning back to look at the action in the ring. Both men were on their feet, but they were stumbling around the ring, blinded by the blood in their eyes. They were each lashing out wildly, but missing by a mile. I tried to focus on the match, but the clown just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

“You told your wife everything was going to change after you won this match! You told her that you were finally, after fifteen years in the business, going to get your big break! And she believed it. She believed every word you told her……”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about….”

“Oh, don’t I? Just watch the match, pal!"

As I looked back at the ring I saw both men on the top of one of the turnbuckles. They were trading plays and jockeying for position atop the top rope.

“They’re playing a dangerous game!”

“That’s the only game I know how to play.”

The clown grinned at me as I refused to meet his gaze. My eyes stayed fixed on the violent scene as Tickles tried to prod me once more.

“Hey, we’re making some progress finally! Bout time you recognized that bloody piece of shit laying a turd in the ring! Hehehe.”

I watched myself struggle for dominance on the top rope. I grabbed my rival and pulled him towards me. I saw myself hook an arm over the man’s neck and grab his waists before shooting off the toprope. The two men flew high in the air as they leapt off the top rope, one suplexing the other. The image was like something on a magazine cover: two men, floating high in the air as the gasping audience waited for them to fall.

And fall they did.

Their bodies landed with a sickening thud against the concrete floor. The audience went silent as the two men laid still on the concrete floor. A puddle of blood began to pool between the men’s broken bodies. A team of paramedics came running down the entrance ramp with a stretcher. Tickles wouldn’t stop fucking laughing as I watched the two men lay perfectly still…..I hoped against hope that one of them would rise to their feet.

“BOOM, BANG, BAM! And just like that your sorry ass was back where you started! Ah shit, I think I see the talent scouts leaving the building! What a way to blow your big shot! You knocked yourself out in front of the recruiters, YOU DUMMY! Why would they sign you now?!?! They probably thought both of you had brain damage after that tumble!.....well, they were right about you at least! Hehehehehe.”

I looked at the unconscious men with shame and disappointment. Could that have been me inside the ring? I don’t remember this match at all…..but I don’t remember any of my matches. The man moved like me, he hit like me, he bled like me…...was that me laying there unconscious? Was this the night I died?

“Look on the bright side, pal! At least you didn’t TECHNICALLY lie to your wife, eh? Everything did change after this match! Finally, after fifteen years, your family had a real change! A change of pace, a change of scenery, a change for the better!”

I watched as the paramedics tried to cram two bodies onto one stretcher. It didn’t work out well. The stretcher collapsed as the paramedics went to lift it. The paramedics began to panic as they ran back to the locker rooms to grab more stretchers.

“No…..you’re lying! I didn’t die here! I’m greater than this….I have to be!”

“Oh you didn’t die here, dickweed! Your career didn’t even die here, although it probably should have! But do you know what DID die here, old top?”

I turned back to the clown as a sick curiosity took hold of my mind.

“Your wife’s love for you! She stuck beside you through thick and thin but, eventually, your head just got too thick and your pockets just got too thin! She couldn’t bear it anymore! She couldn’t stomach you anymore! She was tired of paying your bills and raising your children while you went off to LOSE, match after match. This was the last straw! After she paid forty bucks for a pay per view just to watch you lose, AGAIN, she called it quits! You told her this time would be different. You told her it was a good idea to empty your savings account to go train at a top gym for this fight! You told her you’d have the rent money after you got your victory bonus!

You fucking idiot. She should have walked out on your sorry ass a long, long time before this. But frilly little emotions like love kept your wife from realizing she married a failure….until this night.”

“Silence!”

I screamed at the clown in anguish as the shattered fragments of my memory slowly came back to me.

“Hehehehe did I strike a nerve, big guy? You just couldn’t get it done! Set your career back YEARS, it even destroyed your marriage! Both of you fell flat on your faces! The hype train got derailed and the former tag team wonders turned into a pair of singles blunders! No wonder you two didn’t wanna dig up that old history when you finally made the big leagues and came face to face with each other in the XWF!”

“You’re lying! That wasn’t me. I wouldn’t lose to such a scrub! I would have won this match!”

“You literally didn’t! Hehehe. You didn’t start that mean winning streak until your wife walked out on you and took the kids with her! That really broke ya, big guy, oh yes it did. And when your big shot finally did come again, and you signed that contract…..you didn’t have a single person to celebrate with. HA!”

I turned away from the clown and looked back at the two men laying still on the concrete floor. The paramedics still hadn’t returned from the locker room with another set of stretchers. I buried my burnt face inside of my charred palms.

“No….that couldn’t have been me…..I never lose…”

“Oh yeah?”

The clown smirked at me with smug satisfaction.

“Prove it.”

My head turned on a swivel as the clown shoveled some more popcorn into his gluttonous gullet. I cocked my head to the side as I looked at the clown expectantly.

“Shit, might as well give it to you straight, eh? You obviously lost this match, you fucking dolt. Double knockout, double loss! It’s your memory we’re pulling all this shit from! This was an awful night for you. You didn’t regain consciousness until the next morning. But while you were seeing stars and flying with the tweety birds, your wife was changing the locks and calling up her ex! When you got home you were expecting a kiss on the cheek and a few words of encouragement...hehehe…..you got divorce papers instead, dummy!

But hey, down here in Hell we’re good people. Don’t go listening to all that Christian shittalk, down here in the depths of the abyss we know how to get even! You think you could have won that match? Well why don’t we head down to the ring and have a little do-over. It’s what you’re here for, pal. You want to move on from me? You tired of talking to your good friend Tickles? Well go pin that sorry sob and you’ll never have to hear from me again! But guess what, fucker?”

Tickles leaned forward as I contorted my exposed facial muscles. He spat chunks of popcorn on my face as he spoke.

“If you fail, you never get to leave! You’ll keep fighting him, and losing, and fighting him, and losing...for all eternity! Hehehehehehe.”

I wiped the popcorn spittle off my face as I responded.

“If I pin him, you will finally leave me alone?”

“Yes siree! But be careful: if you win, you’ll advance to the next layer...hehehe.”

“It can’t be any worse than dealing with you.”

I started pushing my way through the crowd as I walked to the ring. Tickles was giggling, following my trail closely. Behind Tickles, a trail of popcorn chunks littered the floor. I pushed past the front row and hopped the security barricade. There was no one stopping me. I walked right over to the two downed men. My gaze drifted between the two sorry souls before I grabbed the skinnier man and threw his bloody corpse underneath the bottom rope. I slid in the ring right after him, as did Tickles.

I immediately hooked the leg of the unconscious man for a pinfall. I waited for the count...it never came.

“Hehehe not so fast buddy. We need to do the introductions!”

The lights in the arena dimmed as a microphone magically appeared inside of the clown’s hands. Tickles tossed the empty popcorn bag over the top rope before raising the microphone to his mouth.

“LADIES AND GENTLECUCKS…..IT’S TIME FOR OUR MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING!”

The crowd roared back to life as the arena lights turned back to their full capacity.

“Hey fucker, get off him, let him get to his corner!”

Tickles kicked me with the force of a thousand horses, sending me flying off my foe and into the turnbuckle. Tickles bended down and grabbed the unconscious man by the head before literally flinging him over his shoulder and into the turnbuckle opposite me.

“IN THIS CORNER!”

Tickles pointed at me.

“Weighing in at way too fucking much and standing not nearly as tall as he likes to claim, he doesn’t even know his own name so I’m just going to call him…….MOTHERFUCKNIG THRAX!”

The crowd roared rambunctiously….but they don’t even know who I am. The peons in the stands have always been gullible gluts with no minds of their owns.

“AND IN THIS CORNER!”

Tickles pointed at the bloody and unconscious man in the opposite corner.

“HE IS THE ONE, THE ONLY, DEMON OF YOUR DREAMS!”

“What?”

CRAAAACCKKKK

SNAAAAAAPPPPP

POP!

Before my very eyes the man’s flesh began to fold in on itself and take a new shape. The bone’s inside the man’s body cracked, breaking themselves in pieces as they expanded and contracted. The man’s arms grew out of his sides. Loose skin began to build beneath the man’s extending arms. The once comatose human shook his head from side to side as he wrapped his elongated arms around himself. A few seconds passed before the beast shrieked and unfurled its wings, displaying it’s new form for the world to see.

[Image: 111043.1769697483.jpg]

The batlike creature towered over me from the other side of the ring. The monster stared into my eyes as a familiar voice whispered to me from the back of my mind...

“I’m going to open you up to a whole new world of pain and suffering you couldn’t even dream about...”

The bat grinned at me as Tickles brought the microphone up to his mouth one more time.

“LET’S GET IT ON!”

The bell rang and Tickles quickly scurried beneath the bottom rope. The demon bat screeched before charging at me! I darted to a different turnbuckle, barely avoiding the swinging claws of the hellspawn raised against me.

“He almost got ya that time!”

Tickles heckled me from outside the ring, but I didn’t dare pay him any mind. The demon turned it’s head on a swivel and stared at me with a bloodthirsty grin. It charged once more. Once again, I fled to another corner for safety.

“Come on! Fight him you prick!”

I turned around once I reached the new corner, only to see that the beast was quicker than I thought! It was nearly upon me! I lifted my right boot into the air just in time. The smooshed face of the bat creature slammed against my black boot, sending the creature reeling away from me. I charged out of the corner before leaving my feet and hitting a running bulldog on the bat!

The bat screeched and clawed at my face as we landed on the mat together. The long talons of the beast tore off pieces off my exposed flesh. I pushed off of the beast and backed up to my feet. I raised my fists instinctively as I prepared to box the bat.

The bat was much slower to its feet than I was. The creature’s unusual proportions made it slow and lethargic in it’s movements: there was no nimbleness or dexterity paired with the monster’s immeasurable strength. As the bat pushed itself back up to his feet I immediately moved in on it, being sure to keep a close watch on the beast’s long talons.

As I cautiously approached the bat it shrieked at me once more. When I looked inside of its agape mouth I saw long fangs chomping at the bit. The beast followed it’s screech with a slash from it’s talon! I rolled out of the way of the blow, doding right past the beast’s legs as I did so. I rolled onto my knees before turning around and charlie horsing the bat in the leg. I heard cartilage crack as my knuckles made contact.

The beast tumbled forward on to the ropes as I took it’s leg out from underneath it. I looked at the wounded bat, then I turned my head to look at the turnbuckle closest to me. I ran like a madman to that corner. With my back turned to the beast, I made my preparations quick and efficient. I knew I didn’t have much time…..but I didn’t think it would recover this quickly!

Just as I had removed the padding from the top turnbuckle I felt the thunderous footsteps of the bat charging towards me! The wooden floorboards creaked loudly beneath the bat’s weight, causing the ring to wobble back and forth every time the creature lifted it’s sprinting legs. I knew I didn’t have time to dodge out of the turnbuckle this go around…..so I collapsed to my knees. I felt the full weight of the bat run headfirst into the exposed turnbuckle. From the vibrations on the wood I could feel the creature stumbling backwards.

When I looked between the first and second ropes I saw Tickles talking to a woman dressed in high fashion. Tickles was looking at her ass as he spoke to her, but the woman’s gaze was fully upon me.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQTA3TuiMjXGt3sqvYlx_c...A&usqp=CAU]

I didn’t have time to make goggly eyes at the hot asian bimbo outside the ring. I pushed myself to my feet and turned around. The bat creature turned around, too, and on the top of it’s forehead I could see a river of green blood flowing down it’s disgusting face.

“COME ON! GIVE ME ALL YOU GOT YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!”

I taunted the bat as I gestured for it to charge at me. The creature went into a rage! It came sprinting across the ring once more, but this time, I charged forward to meet it head on!.....or so the mindless monster thought.

I wouldn’t fail again.

I slid beneath the monster’s legs as we neared each other. As I slid beneath the monster I grabbed it’s feet and lifted them from the ground, forcing the bat to fall to it’s stomach. Within almost no time at all I had twisted back around and locked in an STF submission! The bat screeched in pain as I cranked back on its neck! The bat flapped it’s powerful wings against the mat, but it was no use, I was never letting go of the hold!

As the bat floundered beneath me I made eye contact with the beautiful woman standing next to Tickles. She smiled as I ripped the bat’s head off of it’s neck. A geyser of green blood sprayed out from the creature’s neck as I stood tall in the ring. I held the bat’s head above my own, letting it’s blood coat my flesh as the audience roared.

Tickles slid into the ring, followed closely by the woman who clearly wanted this charred dick deep inside of her. It’s a shame I had nothing left to give her.

“Well that’s not quite what I fucking expected but hey pal, I guess you did the fucking job huh? Reaaal proud of yourself, aren’t ya? Fucking piece of shit. But hey, fair is fair and a deal’s a deal. Hehehe. But, there's been a slight change of plans."

Tickles was tossing a small brown sack up and down inside the palm of his left hand. Coins jingled inside the pouch as the smiling clown played with the brown bag before stuffing it into his pocket. Tickles gestured towards the woman in the white dress beside him.

“My friend here thought ya did reaaaaalllll good in that little bat match. So guess what? You’re not going to the second layer of Hell, bub. At least not today. But we’ll be seeing you reaaaaaalll soon, pal. Heheheh-.”

I threw the bloody bat head at Tickles the clown. The force of the massive head slamming against his tiny body sent the clown flying out of the ring between the ropes. I spit his way before turning my gaze upon the lovely woman speaking to me in the ring.

“That was highly impressive. I’ve been having a bit of a bat problem myself. I made an arrangement with your....."

The woman looks over to the clown who is still laying down on the concrete outside of the ring.

"Friend. Basically, he 'sold' you to me for a few weeks. But don't think of this as slavery: think of it as a new kind of freedom. A temporary freedom, a respite from this awful place, until you're able to fulfill the clown's end of the bargain."

"I just want to get the fuck out of here."

"Say no more, say no more...."

The woman snapped her fingers and created a swirling blue portal in the middle of the ring.

"Come along now."

The woman gestured for me to follow her as she stepped into the portal. I looked down at the dead, headless bat leaking out green goo on the floor. Then I looked over to Tickles the clown, who was slowly stirring outside of the ring. I cast a few loogies in both directions before following the woman through the blue portal.


End Scene



I can smell the sweet scent of death in these halls. Can you?

Thrax looked into the camera as we opened with a shot of this extravagantly dressed man walking down a hallway with various carts, cameras, and weapons lining the eggshell colored walls. The XWF logo appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. Thrax pauses briefly to take a deep inhalation of the air around him.

It. Smells. Glorious!

Thrax continues walking towards the backpedaling camera after breathing in the salty, sweaty air trapped inside the XWF facilities. Thrax stops walking as he comes upon an open door on his left. Thrax tucks his head inside the locker room, only to find that nobody is home.

I believe they call this time of the year ‘spring cleaning’.

Thrax steps through the open doorway and into the men’s locker room, which is clearly identified by the sign standing at shoulder height right next to the door. The camera follows Thrax into the gray room lined with open-facing wooden lockers.

[Image: 8fc77c8d005ffd70ced943b9696438c2?AccessK...oworigin=1]

The broken bodies, the crushed dreams, the expiring contracts…..they are all flushed down the drain this time of year. So many men will step through these halls once, twice, maybe three times: and then never again. Their bones were too brittle, their souls were too soft. They could never withstand the anarchy, the savagery, and the warfare they were subjected to. They just weren’t built for this lifestyle, despite their deeply held delusions.

Delusions I would shatter, one body blow at a time.

It’s a dog eat dog world, and the poodles don’t seem to make it very far once the rottweilers and pitbulls get involved. I know I’ve chowed down on my fair share of chihuahuas and pomeranians inside this very room. Have you?

Thrax eyed the camera with a raised eyebrow. The ears of his crimson cloak mimicked the gesture.

Most of you are nothing but mutts in my industry. Shaggy, unkempt, and only halfway viable: but at least you know your place. Most of you mutts know to get out of the way when the real thoroughbreds walk into the building. You know what would happen if you didn’t, and you have no intention of winding up caged and euthanized at the hands of your betters.

But some of you still don’t understand your role in this world. Some of you still seem so desperate to believe you’re the main characters of this story. A few of you cling to foolish notions, believing yourselves invincible solely because you’ve yet to feel my wrath. Keep your delusions close to your heart….it will make it that much more fun to rip your dreams of glory away from you.

A faint grin stretched out the latex of the man’s mask near his mouth.

I’ve ripped a lot of dreams away from a lot of mutts over the years. I’ve learned a good deal about junkyard hounds during my journey. I know all their behaviors, all their predilections, all the signs of their impending demise.

A hit dog will holler, a dying dog will scream. But a dead dog? A dead dog stays silent. A dead dog no longer clings to fanciful fairy tales of safety. A dead dog knows help isn’t coming.

Thrax looks at the empty wooden lockers decorating the room. His eyes seem to drift onto a set of three lockers in particular. Thrax takes a few steps towards the empty vessels for hopes, dreams, and ring attire.

I see a whole lot of dead dogs in these lockers. Hanging upside down from their paws, dried blood decorating their carcasses like warpaint. The lashings were too much for them: they never even had the chance to scream. These mongrels weren’t cut out for a match of this caliber.

Thrax’s gaze drifted onto the leftmost locker before him.

RL Edgar…..when was the last time you won a singles match? Has it really been months? My my, no wonder you were so willing to descend into the other side….

Thrax’s gaze drifted onto the center most locker in front of him.

Ariel Dixon…..this isn’t a live action remake of Lady and the Tramp. Your masked lover won’t be able to shield you from the pain and devastation. After tomorrow night his body will lay just like yours does now, limp and lifeless against the floor....
Thrax’s gaze fell upon the rightmost of the three lockers in front of him.

Sil Frigida…..did you finally overdose on all those ‘vitamins’ and ‘supplements’? Be careful, mafioso. If you haven’t already been neutered, those testes are going to shrivel! As goes a man’s ball sack so goes his courage, I suppose….

Thrax looked intermittently between the three empty lockers in front of him.

Your vile stench fills our nostrils with failure….but at least you mutts are smart enough to keep our ears free of your yapping. If you’re not dead yet, you know you soon will be. You knew you were dead the moment your name appeared besides mine on the card. Why fight the inevitable? The three of you have made the smart choice, and gone peacefully into that good night….

If only your wisdom could be imparted upon the hollering hounds across the way.

Thrax walked away from the three empty lockers without another word their way. Thrax walked over to a row of wooden lockers across the room. The man in the elaborate outfit came to a standstill as he stared into a locker tucked into the corner of the room.

You sure have been hollering a lot over here, isn’t that right, Ghost Tank? Or is it Oswald now? Does it even matter?

You’re still the same joke you’ve always been, even with a fresh coat of paint and a new gimmick. What are you even hollering about, boy? No one’s hit you yet. No one has laid into you. No one has spent any considerable amount of time thinking about you, let alone speaking about you. So why do you holler so much, hmmmm, ghost pup? No one pays you any mind whatsoever.

Is that why you yap so much? Do you think your nasty shrieks and thirsty pleas will reach the ears of your superiors? They won’t. They never have, and they never will. You know why, Ozzy?

Because your bark is worse than your bite. MUCH worse than your bite. No one is afraid of you, even when you bare your fangs and leap to pounce. You don’t even have the capacity to instill fear in the hearts of children. Wasn’t it Solace Tatum, a near child herself, that embarrassed you on national television? She certainly didn’t fear you. So why should I?

She didn’t even RESPECT you, Ghost Tank. She was nothing but a newborn baby in a manger coming into this federation, and even she knew better than to take you seriously. She batted you around like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. A left, a right, and an uppercut from a schoolgirl was all it took to knock Oswald off of his self-made pedestal. She would have taken that little belt of yours, too...if she thought it was worth a damn. But she didn’t respect you, and she damn sure didn’t respect that trinket you carry around.

Solace Tatum was right to refuse the ‘championship’ she won. She would’ve looked like a fool raising that toy above her head with pride. Solace Tatum would rather die than be known as a ‘Billion Dollar’ champion. She made the right choice.

But you, Oswald?

You just can’t ever seem to make the right choice, can you? You’re as hot as you’ve been in YEARS, and still there is no sizzle to your sauce. You’re still riding high from your win over Demos….it’s the most impressive win you’ve had in years…..so why did you choose to bring all that ‘momentum’ to a screeching halt? Why did you choose to enter into a match you never had a hope of winning?

Your win over Demos is nothing impressive, you should know this better than anyone. You say it all the time: Demos isn’t impressive, he’s not an icon, he’s not a star. He’s just another coward hiding behind a mask. So what does a victory over Demos qualify you for? Do you and Rel get to share Demos come nightfall? Is that what a victory over the Demos earns you, a gaped asshole and a mouthful of cock? Neither you nor Rel Dixon will ever hold a briefcase. One victory over Demos simply doesn’t cut it at this stage of the game.

What, you were once a legitimate champion? Weren’t we all. But you were a champion in the age of Peter Gilmour, Jim Caedus, and Shane . I was a champion in the age of Sarah Lacklan, Robert Main, and Thunder Knuckles.

I was the GREATEST champion of all time in my division. How about you, Oswald? Did you set any records with your reigns?

Didn’t think so.

You had plenty of chances back when the federation was filled with Gilmours and Caedus’s….but now? Now you’re stuck clinging to fake title, trying to make it matter, and failing every step of the way.

So quit your yapping, mutt!

Thrax growled at the empty locker before walking away from it. Thrax begins to walk down a row of empty walkers before he suddenly stops and turns to look inside one of them.

Oh, well what do we have here?

Thrax approached the empty locker before poking his head into it while gazing downwards.

Do you think your snarling is convincing? Intimidating, even?

It seems we have a classic case of big dog syndrome.

The runt of the litter always has the nastiest attitude. But I can’t fault you for wishing to mark your territory and make your presence known….if you weren’t so loudly braggadocious, would anyone even remember your accomplishments?

Of course they would, you're a five time tag team champion, after all. But would they respect your accomplishments? Or would they simply be dismissed as victories over the likes of Peter Gilmour and Scully? When people look at Chris Chaos....what do they see? Do they see one of the most decorated wrestlers in our business, or do they see a narcissist too busy ego tripping to make the XWF touring schedule?

We both know the answer to that question, so what do you think growling and barking is going to change? The more you run your jaws the less we missed you. It is easy to miss someone when they're absent: you just think of all the good times you had, of all the successfully and joyous moments. But when they come back to you?

Thrax shakes his head from side to side.

They're nothing like you imagined they were. They are EXACTLY like you remembered them to be. All their flaws, all their deficiencies, they're shoved straight into your face the moment the absent becomes the present. Chaos seems intent to shove them all in your face just a little bit harder than most.

But it won't make a difference. In the end, it never does.

The stronger hound always wins the dogfight, no matter which mutt barked more in their cages. So keep on barking, Chris Chaos. Maybe someone will care about you enough to adopt you one day...

Thrax turned to walk away from the locker room before pulling himself back to it.

Actually, on second thought....no one deserves to hear your endless yapping!

The ears of Thrax's cloak shot into the empty locker like the claws of a praying mantis, making two quick snips of an invisible object before Thrax. A quiet'YIP!'
 shot out from the locker as the cloak stabbed into...something. Thrax grinned at the empty locker room as he caressed the left ear of his cloak.

What a good boy....

Blood began to pool at the bottom of the locker as Thrax stepped away from it.

Now.....to deal with you.

Thrax walked down the set of lockers until he was at the last locker in the row. Thrax turned to face the empty locker as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You sure do scream a lot, don't you, Caedus? About anything and everything, you screech like a banshee endlessly. No topic is too minute, too irrelevant, or too far off course for Caedus. He just loves to hear his own voice. It doesn't matter to him if the words are logical or consistent with reality: all that matters is that Caedus said them. Isn't that right?

Thrax chuckled to himself as he removed his arms from his chest. Thrax put his hands on either side of the locker as he looked down at the empty space beneath him.

I know why you scream so endlessly, Caedus.

You're a dying dog. I'm surprised you're not dead already.

Your star has long since faded, the paychecks stopped arriving in your mailbox years ago. How has your life been since you left the XWF?

I notice it's a topic you tend to stray away from, but from the shadows, I see everything.

You would rather live in the past than embrace the present. I would too, if I were you. If my future were as bleak as yours I too would feel the urge to scream, to cry, to go all out. But it won't matter. In the end, it never does. My victims have always given me their best, they've always fought my will tooth and nail. But you, Caedus? You haven't had enough money to see a dentist in years. What teeth do you have left to bite me with? When your piss stained canines meet my flesh they will rip themselves from your jaw in shame.

You have always been a fool, but now, you've been reduced to a beggar. You've been subsisting on table scraps since your money dried up in 2018. For a few golden years you had more dollars that sense. But now? Years of poor decisions and no planning has left you stranded on the ocean of life with no fuel in your boat and no service on your cellphone. You've been living life at the fringe of society ever since the XWF moved on from you. You've grown desperate.

And out of desperation grows obedience.

So it is no surprise that as soon as Loverboy Lane called you answered on the first ring. When he offered you a job you told him you'd do ANYTHING to keep a spot on the roster. Ever since that day you've been licking Lane's boots and embracing his flatulence. You NEED the 'Bossman' to like you. Without the approval of your 'Bossman' you will be right back on those streets, living in your van down by the river!

When Vinnie Lane says jump, Jim Caedus asks how high. When Vinnie Lane says bend over, Caedus only asks whether or not he should spread his cheeks to allow Lane an easier time with those pesky contractual obligations.

I may be scarred and disfigured, but you Caedus, YOU are the truly unrecognizable one. You are the one who has changed.

Where is the Jim Caedus from years ago who was his own man? Where is the Jim Caedus who earned his spot in the top 10 of all time? Where is the outlaw Jim Caedus that gave no fucks and left no survivors?

We haven't seen him in years! Now all we're left with is a prissy Sheriff's Deputy that spends more time sucking off corporate executives than actually wrestling!

It's true, Caedus. You have LITERALLY spent more time in the past year talking about how great, powerful, and strong Vinnie Lane is than you have spent wrestling!

So why are you screaming at such a fever pitch? Why do you demand to be taken so seriously? Why do you seem so content to talk the talk when you could have been walking the walk for months?

Thrax kneels down as he stares straight ahead, as if making eye contact with something inside of the open locker.

I know why. You do, too.

Jim Caedus simply doesn't have -it- anymore. It's been years since he's been in the gym, let alone the ring. Even the dead man walking has more XWF victories this decade than Caedus!

Caedus's plan is to talk a big game so that way no one looks his way when the actual bell rings. He wants all the top dogs to steer clear off him, to give him space, breadth. He wants to be able to fight at his pace, against who he wants, when he wants to. Then, when he loses, he can simply say he was so busy kicking ass that he completely forgot to grab the briefcase. It would be a believable enough excuse, right? This is a ten man match. There are so many competitors going up to the moon that they're going to be lost in the crowd, and anyone could wind up coming down with that briefcase. Just because Jim isn't going to walk away with the briefcase doesn't mean he's a loser, it doesn't mean he can't go the distance anymore....right?

That's what Caedus is hoping for. That's the illusion, that's the narrative Vinnie Lane is helping him so desperately craft.

But maybe, Caedus.....maybe it won't be a ten man match after all. Isn't that right?

Thrax grinned at the invisible dog as he let the question linger for a moment.

You think you've picked up on something no one else in this match has. You think you've uncovered some sort of scandalous secret. Even if your body is going by the wayside, your mental faculties are as sharp as ever....or so you like to think. You put your nose to the ground and you followed the trail all the way home. You caught the culprit red handed, didn't you?

Thrax's smirk grew as the ears of his cape shook slightly.

So why don't you say it with your chest, little man?

Thrax cocked his head to the side as if awaiting a response. When none came he returned to his normative kneeling posture.

Are you not confident in your abilities? Perhaps you're wise to hedge your bets. You're a mutt, not a bloodhound.

But still, Caedus.....why play such childish games? If you think you know the truth why not simply SPEAK IT to existence, and force my shadow to evaporate off the wall?

Why hide behind illusion and false ink? Why hide behind vague subtleties?

Go on, Caedus.......we both know you THINK you've figured it all out.

Why don't you tell the whole world exactly who, or perhaps WHAT, I am?

Thrax leaned his face into the locker room and squinted his eyes at the non-existent dog in a cage. The tops of the hellspawn's crimson cloak narrowed towards each other as they pointed menacingly towards the wooden lock.

I'm waiting.
]]> <![CDATA[Loves forgotten child, born into the wild]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40949 Sat, 29 May 2021 19:44:01 -0700 Marf]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40949 Somebody told me, I know where to go.
Somebody showed me, I was last to know.

Sell me down the river,
Sell me down the river,
Sell me down the river,
Sell me down the river.

What I wanted, is what I wanted...
What I wanted is what she wanted.

Unfriendly feelings, down on wounded knees
Unfriendly reasons, some blind mother's need

As the chilling breeze blew along and Lycana was preparing to give the signal to attack. Marf’s bold blue eyes bulged in curiosity and amazement as he saw the pack of werewolves coming out into the open. The moon lights up the clearing, showing all of them stepping out from the trees along with a short Asian woman. Marf squints and immediately freezes up as he notices her eyes are glowing blue. He realizes right away who she is and he tenses up, trembling with rage now. He growls something about the blue eyed woman being all his.

His own voice sounded far off to him as he focused on ole blue eyes. Marf wasn’t sure if she had spotted him but something in him was giving a strong feeling she knew he was there. Lycana’s voice echoes in the background to start the attack as the other side is now rushing at them. Marf looks over and watches the werewolves collide and clash with one another, loud growling and howling becoming the soundtrack of the night. Marf looks back over but can’t spot the blue eyed bitch anymore. He dodges past several wolves battling as he heads for the tree line where she was.

Marf hops past a pair of dueling werewolves, passing so closely he can smell the nasty coppery smell of their blood. He races down the hill where two of the opposing wolves have cornered one of the werewolves from Lycana’s pack. Marf tackles one of the werewolves and knocks it over before running past them. The two opposing wolves turn and watch Marf which allows the werewolf from Lycana’s time to hop up, grab the closer wolf and rip it’s jaw clean off, killing it. The other one turns in time to have it’s own jaw torn off as well while Marf goes through the trees some more.

Something catches his eyes and he looks over and sees a faint blue glow in the woods. Marf heads towards it and stumbles through the thick bush and trees to a much smaller opening with a bright pool of water. Marf gets closer to the clear water and he can see Lycana floating at the bottom, looking lifeless. His eyes go wide in horror as he races closer and dives into the water. It’s only as he’s about to hit the cold, spring water that he realizes Lycana was behind him and couldn’t possibly be here. He hits the water and immediately sinks to the bottom.

Marf looks around in panic as he continues to plummet down endlessly before there’s finally no light left. He crashes into the floor of this now deep pool of water, smashing through it and proceeding to drop several feet and slamming into the cold, dirty ground. While the werewolves are battling it out in a bloody war all around him, Marf’s eyes have rolled into the back of his head and he’s slumped against a large oak tree. There’s a faint hint of red on the edges of his fully white eyes.

In the dreamworld, Marf is pulling himself up slowly. He looks around at his surroundings, the cold stone floor of the old castle being recognized quickly. He was in the basement of Baphomet’s castle. Marf is shoved back to the floor by Andrew Logan. He steps back from Marf and joins Geri Vayden, Lycana, Ash Quinn and the Baphomet. They all stare at Marf with distaste and appear to be upset with him or possibly even disgusted. Marf scrambles back and then gets to his feet.

Marf: What the hell is this? How’d I get here?

Baphomet: Silence! You’ve failed us all, you’ve failed the Left Hand!

Marf: The fuck are you talking about? You’re either dead or in a coma, whatever it is you left us behind. Don’t put that shit on me. Only one that failed was y...

Marf is cut off as a big fist from Andrew Logan knocks him back. Ash and Geri grab hold of Marf while Logan beats on him for a moment until they hold him down on his knees. He tries to push himself back up and catches Logan’s fist this time. He slams it into Ash to knock her off. Marf gets back up and throws a heavy fist at Geri but she ducks and bites into his leg. Marf hollers out in pain and then Logan slams a meaty forearm across the back of Marf’s head to knock him back down. Ash and Geri grab hold of him again and Logan helps keep him down as he looks up at the Baphomet.

Baphomet: You fucked up for the last time, Marf. Now you put the price, with your life and your soul.

Lycana hands a large sword to Baphomet. His eyes flash blue for a moment as Marf realizes what’s happening. He struggles to break free but Lycana turns and drills a fist into his nose, shattering it and causing a stream of blood to quickly begin running down his chin. Baphomet takes the sheath off the sword and lines it up with Marf’s stomach. He pulls back and prepares to plunge the sword into him as Marf shakes his head to focus. He looks Lycana in the eyes suddenly and she can’t look away.

Marf: It’s not going down like this. Help me.

Marf’s eyes flash with red and this causes Lycana’s eyes to flash red for a brief moment as well. She turns and swiftly kicks Baphomet in the side of his knee, causing him to buckle and drop the sword. Logan and Geri go after Lycana while Marf bursts to his feet and throws Ash into the wall. He sprints away from the chaos as Baphomet cries out in anger. Marf ducks down a few darker corridors and then hides in a small room. He closes his eyes and placed a hand on the cool, stone wall. Marf’s begins to shiver and sweat as a door manifests suddenly on the wall in front of him.

Marf opens the door and sees nothing but blackness and space. He steps through and falls forward, plunging through the nothingness before jolting into his body. Marf shakes his head and looks at the large oak tree, slowly getting to his feet. He can hear the war still going on behind him. He looks around in the weird little opening he’s in and the pool of water is gone. Marf does a double take and spots the Asian woman crouched against a tree, her eyes closed and glowing blue. Marf quietly approaches her as she seems to be in the dreamworld still. He stands over her and cracks a mean smile.

Marf: Welcome to my world, bitch!

Marf wraps his massive hands around her brittle throat and squeezes tightly. The woman sputters for a moment before he eyes finally open wide and she realizes she’s caught. Marf pulls her directly in front of his face so she can only look into his eyes. They shiver and tears well up as she desperately tries to fight him off. Marf glares into her eyes and sneers while crushing her windpipe and throat with his powerful hands. He watches with sick satisfaction as the life fades from her eyes, the blue becoming duller.

Just as Marf is finishing her off, Rolfe steps out of the trees and spots him. He slowly looks around and sees nobody else is around. He stalks up behind Marf who isn’t aware he’s even there. Marf is too preoccupied with killing the blue eyed Djinn to notice Rolfe now just a few feet behind him, breathing heavily and seething now. We fade out as Rolfe is about to attack Marf...

Likely pre-recorded before the war...


Marf: Ahh yes, another one of these lovely chats. Look at you two go, working overtime to prove to everyone how the Dissentients are not a threat. How you’re not afraid of us and it’s not a big deal being in this match. About how you’re not even going to break a sweat in this match, all the while as I watch your obnoxious and redundant promos and see those lines of sweat trickling down the sides of your disgusting faces. Sorry, guess I’m not supposed to point that out and wreck your special little moments together.

Always so co-dependant on one another to get through what seems like the same promo time and time again. Just move around different tag team names and it’s essentially the same shit, different day with you two fuckabillys. Although you did slip one little new spot in with a nod to my Canadian heritage, so thanks for that I guess? Honestly though, if I went and pulled the tapes from Snowjob I might not be able to tell the difference between your lame promos. All the same insults about how we have no business being here and yet here we are yet again.

Marf spreads his arms for a moment in mockery.

Marf: You don’t want to take us seriously and disrespect us, that’s on you. Part of the ole Bastard shtick or something I suppose. I know a whole bunch of other teams that played that card at tag team turmoil. Lycana and I walked into that Warfare and ate everyone alive. We laid them flat like we fucking said we would and earned ourselves another shot at the tag team championships. A fair, two on two shot against Them No Good Bastards. Doesn’t matter to me it will be a glass tables match anymore than it taking place on the god damn moon. What more do you want out of that?

Marf turns and looks off camera and shakes his head like we are done here. Suddenly he puts up his hands like he’s just messing around.

Marf: Oh right, I guess I’m supposed to brag about that shit aren’t I? Well warm up your alphaghetti or whatever gross slop you trash hippos feast on and pull up a seat. When we stepped up to the plate for tag turmoil, everyone wrote us off the same way you two have. We walked in and thrashed the thugz. Eds and Demos walked in and we eviscerated and destroyed them. Then came the Avalanche assholes Cooper and Stone. We crushed and smashed them to the ground. All of that, while you two fuckheads were sitting front row watching. We went through that Hell with the deck stacked against us and took the win.

Now we’re going to walk into this new Hell, just like y’all so kindly pointed out actually. Yeah I did say it before, we would be walking into Hell to take your tag titles. I supposed I did make a mistake by saying I’d be defending the Television championship too but shit what was I supposed to say at the time?

Marf stops and uses a more mocking tone of voice.

Marf: Oh jeez uh Mike Tom or Tom Michaels, or whoever the fuck is interviewing me. I guess I have this tv title and ah jeez, I dunno if I’ll have it by Leap of Faith.

Marf stops and shakes his head, his face filled with disgust.

Marf: Now I’m sorry but did you mention us costing you at Snowjob? Yeah, sure that must have been it. Not the fact that you two buffoons were so busy show boating you barely fit into the match. I can just as easily point at you pair of fuckwads for costing the Dissentients the match. You twats had to go back and try again while we were never given that opportunity. Instead we had to deal with a booking staff constantly trying to show horn us into separate singles categories. Marf off to the TV title match he never asked for but wound up winning by making one of the longest reigning television champions quit. Lycana into the Shooting Star division she didn’t care about.

Not only were the bookers convinced we would do better apart, our own supposed leader was pushing for us to take singles titles and not bother with the tag titles. The Dissentients navigated their way through basically everyone trying to stop their success and still wound up earning a tag team championship title shot. Go figure. And regardless of all the people here trying to discredit anything we did because of being associated with the Left Hand, we haven’t once stopped marching forward. And in the process, we’ve done what we need to do in our own fucking ways to get where we are. You lads can do your best to shut down what we’ve already accomplished in a short time but it doesn’t change the fact that we are standing here ready to take those titles anyway.

You know what, let’s go back a sec here I just want to really help y’all understand what we did to get here. After the fall of whatever the fuck you wanna call it if the Left Hand, we had our immediate targets due to multiple traitors. We basically retired Tula but Ash Quinn somehow kept eluding us. So despite being booked as singles competitors, we found a way to get her sweet little ass. Lycana played along in the Shooting Star division and got herself into a triple threat match for the title against Betsy Granger and our old pal Ash. Lycana brutalized Ash and left her for Betsy to finish off, setting up a pay per view showdown between Ash and Lycana which cost Ash another loss as well as the loss of a few pints of blood.

But don’t worry, Lycana still faced Betsy one on one later and whipped her little ass too. That of course was not enough. After being pushed into the Television division I forced the champ to quit and beg for mercy before taking the title. I used that title to convince Ash Quinn into a match against me. I told her the title would be on the line even though it was a Wednesday and not billed that way. I pulverized her body that night in a way that changed her forever. Now ask yourself this, when was the last time you saw Ash Quinn? Sorry to disappoint, but she’s never going to be seen wrestling ever again.

Then came tag team turmoil. We signed up so they couldn’t deny the Dissentients being booked together. I got what I needed from the TV title, I didn’t care about it anymore. I defended it against that waste of lard Fatwood before Dixon just barely pried it away from my distracted grip. I should thank him really, since then all of my energy has boiled up to focus on you two loudmouthed dumbasses. Don’t get me wrong, I had fun being television champion but my heart is after those tag straps. And so is Lycana’s. And I’m going to make sure she gets what she wants.

That’s not a guess, an assumption, a dream or a long lost wish, it’s a fucking fact. The Dissentients walk into Leap of Faith and take the tag team titles, plain and simple. We walk out of there new champs and run the division for as long as we fucking feel like. And as for tweedle dee and tweedle dumbass? Well at least they’ll have a cool new nickname. Them Former Tag Champs. It’ll free up some time for you two cottage sharts to focus more on those masturbation sessions you’ve been having together. Certainly explains y’all’s...chemistry. See you on the moon, boys.

We start to fade out as Marf chuckles and turns away but then suddenly he stops and lunges back to the camera.

Marf: Oh and last but not least...FUCK BoB! For all you twits and twinks on Twitter that’s #fuckBoB!

And now we finally fade out...]]> Somebody told me, I know where to go.
Somebody showed me, I was last to know.

Sell me down the river,
Sell me down the river,
Sell me down the river,
Sell me down the river.

What I wanted, is what I wanted...
What I wanted is what she wanted.

Unfriendly feelings, down on wounded knees
Unfriendly reasons, some blind mother's need

As the chilling breeze blew along and Lycana was preparing to give the signal to attack. Marf’s bold blue eyes bulged in curiosity and amazement as he saw the pack of werewolves coming out into the open. The moon lights up the clearing, showing all of them stepping out from the trees along with a short Asian woman. Marf squints and immediately freezes up as he notices her eyes are glowing blue. He realizes right away who she is and he tenses up, trembling with rage now. He growls something about the blue eyed woman being all his.

His own voice sounded far off to him as he focused on ole blue eyes. Marf wasn’t sure if she had spotted him but something in him was giving a strong feeling she knew he was there. Lycana’s voice echoes in the background to start the attack as the other side is now rushing at them. Marf looks over and watches the werewolves collide and clash with one another, loud growling and howling becoming the soundtrack of the night. Marf looks back over but can’t spot the blue eyed bitch anymore. He dodges past several wolves battling as he heads for the tree line where she was.

Marf hops past a pair of dueling werewolves, passing so closely he can smell the nasty coppery smell of their blood. He races down the hill where two of the opposing wolves have cornered one of the werewolves from Lycana’s pack. Marf tackles one of the werewolves and knocks it over before running past them. The two opposing wolves turn and watch Marf which allows the werewolf from Lycana’s time to hop up, grab the closer wolf and rip it’s jaw clean off, killing it. The other one turns in time to have it’s own jaw torn off as well while Marf goes through the trees some more.

Something catches his eyes and he looks over and sees a faint blue glow in the woods. Marf heads towards it and stumbles through the thick bush and trees to a much smaller opening with a bright pool of water. Marf gets closer to the clear water and he can see Lycana floating at the bottom, looking lifeless. His eyes go wide in horror as he races closer and dives into the water. It’s only as he’s about to hit the cold, spring water that he realizes Lycana was behind him and couldn’t possibly be here. He hits the water and immediately sinks to the bottom.

Marf looks around in panic as he continues to plummet down endlessly before there’s finally no light left. He crashes into the floor of this now deep pool of water, smashing through it and proceeding to drop several feet and slamming into the cold, dirty ground. While the werewolves are battling it out in a bloody war all around him, Marf’s eyes have rolled into the back of his head and he’s slumped against a large oak tree. There’s a faint hint of red on the edges of his fully white eyes.

In the dreamworld, Marf is pulling himself up slowly. He looks around at his surroundings, the cold stone floor of the old castle being recognized quickly. He was in the basement of Baphomet’s castle. Marf is shoved back to the floor by Andrew Logan. He steps back from Marf and joins Geri Vayden, Lycana, Ash Quinn and the Baphomet. They all stare at Marf with distaste and appear to be upset with him or possibly even disgusted. Marf scrambles back and then gets to his feet.

Marf: What the hell is this? How’d I get here?

Baphomet: Silence! You’ve failed us all, you’ve failed the Left Hand!

Marf: The fuck are you talking about? You’re either dead or in a coma, whatever it is you left us behind. Don’t put that shit on me. Only one that failed was y...

Marf is cut off as a big fist from Andrew Logan knocks him back. Ash and Geri grab hold of Marf while Logan beats on him for a moment until they hold him down on his knees. He tries to push himself back up and catches Logan’s fist this time. He slams it into Ash to knock her off. Marf gets back up and throws a heavy fist at Geri but she ducks and bites into his leg. Marf hollers out in pain and then Logan slams a meaty forearm across the back of Marf’s head to knock him back down. Ash and Geri grab hold of him again and Logan helps keep him down as he looks up at the Baphomet.

Baphomet: You fucked up for the last time, Marf. Now you put the price, with your life and your soul.

Lycana hands a large sword to Baphomet. His eyes flash blue for a moment as Marf realizes what’s happening. He struggles to break free but Lycana turns and drills a fist into his nose, shattering it and causing a stream of blood to quickly begin running down his chin. Baphomet takes the sheath off the sword and lines it up with Marf’s stomach. He pulls back and prepares to plunge the sword into him as Marf shakes his head to focus. He looks Lycana in the eyes suddenly and she can’t look away.

Marf: It’s not going down like this. Help me.

Marf’s eyes flash with red and this causes Lycana’s eyes to flash red for a brief moment as well. She turns and swiftly kicks Baphomet in the side of his knee, causing him to buckle and drop the sword. Logan and Geri go after Lycana while Marf bursts to his feet and throws Ash into the wall. He sprints away from the chaos as Baphomet cries out in anger. Marf ducks down a few darker corridors and then hides in a small room. He closes his eyes and placed a hand on the cool, stone wall. Marf’s begins to shiver and sweat as a door manifests suddenly on the wall in front of him.

Marf opens the door and sees nothing but blackness and space. He steps through and falls forward, plunging through the nothingness before jolting into his body. Marf shakes his head and looks at the large oak tree, slowly getting to his feet. He can hear the war still going on behind him. He looks around in the weird little opening he’s in and the pool of water is gone. Marf does a double take and spots the Asian woman crouched against a tree, her eyes closed and glowing blue. Marf quietly approaches her as she seems to be in the dreamworld still. He stands over her and cracks a mean smile.

Marf: Welcome to my world, bitch!

Marf wraps his massive hands around her brittle throat and squeezes tightly. The woman sputters for a moment before he eyes finally open wide and she realizes she’s caught. Marf pulls her directly in front of his face so she can only look into his eyes. They shiver and tears well up as she desperately tries to fight him off. Marf glares into her eyes and sneers while crushing her windpipe and throat with his powerful hands. He watches with sick satisfaction as the life fades from her eyes, the blue becoming duller.

Just as Marf is finishing her off, Rolfe steps out of the trees and spots him. He slowly looks around and sees nobody else is around. He stalks up behind Marf who isn’t aware he’s even there. Marf is too preoccupied with killing the blue eyed Djinn to notice Rolfe now just a few feet behind him, breathing heavily and seething now. We fade out as Rolfe is about to attack Marf...

Likely pre-recorded before the war...


Marf: Ahh yes, another one of these lovely chats. Look at you two go, working overtime to prove to everyone how the Dissentients are not a threat. How you’re not afraid of us and it’s not a big deal being in this match. About how you’re not even going to break a sweat in this match, all the while as I watch your obnoxious and redundant promos and see those lines of sweat trickling down the sides of your disgusting faces. Sorry, guess I’m not supposed to point that out and wreck your special little moments together.

Always so co-dependant on one another to get through what seems like the same promo time and time again. Just move around different tag team names and it’s essentially the same shit, different day with you two fuckabillys. Although you did slip one little new spot in with a nod to my Canadian heritage, so thanks for that I guess? Honestly though, if I went and pulled the tapes from Snowjob I might not be able to tell the difference between your lame promos. All the same insults about how we have no business being here and yet here we are yet again.

Marf spreads his arms for a moment in mockery.

Marf: You don’t want to take us seriously and disrespect us, that’s on you. Part of the ole Bastard shtick or something I suppose. I know a whole bunch of other teams that played that card at tag team turmoil. Lycana and I walked into that Warfare and ate everyone alive. We laid them flat like we fucking said we would and earned ourselves another shot at the tag team championships. A fair, two on two shot against Them No Good Bastards. Doesn’t matter to me it will be a glass tables match anymore than it taking place on the god damn moon. What more do you want out of that?

Marf turns and looks off camera and shakes his head like we are done here. Suddenly he puts up his hands like he’s just messing around.

Marf: Oh right, I guess I’m supposed to brag about that shit aren’t I? Well warm up your alphaghetti or whatever gross slop you trash hippos feast on and pull up a seat. When we stepped up to the plate for tag turmoil, everyone wrote us off the same way you two have. We walked in and thrashed the thugz. Eds and Demos walked in and we eviscerated and destroyed them. Then came the Avalanche assholes Cooper and Stone. We crushed and smashed them to the ground. All of that, while you two fuckheads were sitting front row watching. We went through that Hell with the deck stacked against us and took the win.

Now we’re going to walk into this new Hell, just like y’all so kindly pointed out actually. Yeah I did say it before, we would be walking into Hell to take your tag titles. I supposed I did make a mistake by saying I’d be defending the Television championship too but shit what was I supposed to say at the time?

Marf stops and uses a more mocking tone of voice.

Marf: Oh jeez uh Mike Tom or Tom Michaels, or whoever the fuck is interviewing me. I guess I have this tv title and ah jeez, I dunno if I’ll have it by Leap of Faith.

Marf stops and shakes his head, his face filled with disgust.

Marf: Now I’m sorry but did you mention us costing you at Snowjob? Yeah, sure that must have been it. Not the fact that you two buffoons were so busy show boating you barely fit into the match. I can just as easily point at you pair of fuckwads for costing the Dissentients the match. You twats had to go back and try again while we were never given that opportunity. Instead we had to deal with a booking staff constantly trying to show horn us into separate singles categories. Marf off to the TV title match he never asked for but wound up winning by making one of the longest reigning television champions quit. Lycana into the Shooting Star division she didn’t care about.

Not only were the bookers convinced we would do better apart, our own supposed leader was pushing for us to take singles titles and not bother with the tag titles. The Dissentients navigated their way through basically everyone trying to stop their success and still wound up earning a tag team championship title shot. Go figure. And regardless of all the people here trying to discredit anything we did because of being associated with the Left Hand, we haven’t once stopped marching forward. And in the process, we’ve done what we need to do in our own fucking ways to get where we are. You lads can do your best to shut down what we’ve already accomplished in a short time but it doesn’t change the fact that we are standing here ready to take those titles anyway.

You know what, let’s go back a sec here I just want to really help y’all understand what we did to get here. After the fall of whatever the fuck you wanna call it if the Left Hand, we had our immediate targets due to multiple traitors. We basically retired Tula but Ash Quinn somehow kept eluding us. So despite being booked as singles competitors, we found a way to get her sweet little ass. Lycana played along in the Shooting Star division and got herself into a triple threat match for the title against Betsy Granger and our old pal Ash. Lycana brutalized Ash and left her for Betsy to finish off, setting up a pay per view showdown between Ash and Lycana which cost Ash another loss as well as the loss of a few pints of blood.

But don’t worry, Lycana still faced Betsy one on one later and whipped her little ass too. That of course was not enough. After being pushed into the Television division I forced the champ to quit and beg for mercy before taking the title. I used that title to convince Ash Quinn into a match against me. I told her the title would be on the line even though it was a Wednesday and not billed that way. I pulverized her body that night in a way that changed her forever. Now ask yourself this, when was the last time you saw Ash Quinn? Sorry to disappoint, but she’s never going to be seen wrestling ever again.

Then came tag team turmoil. We signed up so they couldn’t deny the Dissentients being booked together. I got what I needed from the TV title, I didn’t care about it anymore. I defended it against that waste of lard Fatwood before Dixon just barely pried it away from my distracted grip. I should thank him really, since then all of my energy has boiled up to focus on you two loudmouthed dumbasses. Don’t get me wrong, I had fun being television champion but my heart is after those tag straps. And so is Lycana’s. And I’m going to make sure she gets what she wants.

That’s not a guess, an assumption, a dream or a long lost wish, it’s a fucking fact. The Dissentients walk into Leap of Faith and take the tag team titles, plain and simple. We walk out of there new champs and run the division for as long as we fucking feel like. And as for tweedle dee and tweedle dumbass? Well at least they’ll have a cool new nickname. Them Former Tag Champs. It’ll free up some time for you two cottage sharts to focus more on those masturbation sessions you’ve been having together. Certainly explains y’all’s...chemistry. See you on the moon, boys.

We start to fade out as Marf chuckles and turns away but then suddenly he stops and lunges back to the camera.

Marf: Oh and last but not least...FUCK BoB! For all you twits and twinks on Twitter that’s #fuckBoB!

And now we finally fade out...]]> <![CDATA[Bring me BOB!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40948 Sat, 29 May 2021 19:28:05 -0700 Ruby]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=40948
Centurion: “You know, leverage is worthless if you don’t know what it’s worth.”

It was a sentence that seemed silly, but Ruby also knew that he was right. Still, she felt bad about the whole affair. She clapped her hands.

Ruby: “I’m stumped. I see only one solution.”

She looked over at Centurion in dramatic fashion.

Ruby: “Bring. Me. BOB!”

[Image: rEuB2NG.gif]


Quote:
THE OFFICES OF BOB LOBLAW
LOBLAW’S THE NAME
LAW’S THE GAME

Ruby didn’t often consult her lawyer, but if ever the time was right, it was now. Last time she had used his services it was when he had taken up the mantle of the Super Dear’O to find out how much she could get away with, legally speaking. After all, vigilantism was very much still frowned upon by actual law enforcement, and Ruby didn’t want to butt heads with the boys in blue. Given that, having a guy like Bob Loblaw on speed dial was rather fortuitous.

He got up from his desk as she walked into his office, and pointed two pistol-fingers at her.

Bob: “The Super Dear’O! My preferred client by a clear country mile! Mostly because you pay me in cereal these days, and that stuff is killer!”

Ruby: “Killer? It’s supposed to be healthy! Fantastic for the colon, if you believe the XWF website. Which, on this rare occasion, you certainly can.”

Bob: “That’s what I meant! These days, it just SLIDES…”

Ruby: “BOB! Sorry to interrupt my guy, but we’re kind of on the clock here.”

She slammed the tape down on to the desk.

Bob: “What’s that, Rubes?”

Ruby: “Heck if I know. It’s supposedly leverage against my bossman. Which tells me that it’s probably him doing something ‘legal, yet stupid’. Which is a good summarization of the dude.”

Bob: “What’s on it, then?”

Ruby: “I don’t know! And I’m not sure I want to. See, this chick is trying to put all of Vinnie’s business I the street. Now, I’m not a fan of not respecting one’s privacy to begin with, but she’s also using it to make him put me at a disadvantage. He had a match reversed, had him put me in a lumberjack match?”

Bob: “That the match where you cut down a tree the fastest?”

Ruby: “Nah. I wouldn’t want that. They’re the lungs of our planet! GO trees! Bring us that sweet, sweet oxygen! No, here it just means the ring is surrounded by other wrestlers who can beat you up if the ref isn’t looking. Except in this case, most of those lumberjacks will be B.O.B. members. AKA her lackeys. Meanwhile, I have a severe LACK of peeps in MY corner, ya dig? Which is fine. I’m not looking for an unfair advantage. I just wanna know if watching this tape could get me in trouble down the road.”

Bob: “Well, sure. Anything can get you in trouble. It’s also possible this tape is blank.”

Ruby: “Yeah, that’s possible I suppose. And I’m not stupid, I know Fury has a dozen contingency plans. That’s not the only copy, she likely has five dozen copies spread out all over the country just in case. This isn’t her first villainy rodeo. But what would I gain from knowing what’s on this?”

The lawyer sighed.

Bob: “Way I see it, if it’s compromising material you’d have to potentially turn on your boss. And knowing you, that means you’d have to take down the entire XWF, in which case you might as well…”

Ruby: “Join BoB?”

Bob: “Precisely. And if there’s nothing on there, you know you’ve been bamboozled. In which case, this Miss Fury will be living inside your head rent free. Not what you want before such a big match, right?”

Ruby took a deep breath, and nodded.

Ruby: “You’re right. I know what I have to do.”

She took the tape and left the office.

[Image: rEuB2NG.gif]


Ruby had made her way to an abandoned back alley. Usually, this was the kind of setting where she’d stop crimes, but right now she just needed to get rid of something. A small firepit was burning wood, and she looked at the tape.

Ruby: “Either you’re harmless and useless, or you’re harmful and dangerous. So it ain’t no lie, bye bye bye!”

She threw the tape into the fire and watched it lick at the plastic, before melting the film. She started whistling, before humming a song.

Quote:


I am a hero and I am okay.
I fight all night and I work all day
I cut down foes, I brush my teeth
I compete on Anarchy.
On Thursdays I go wrasslin’
and have Ruby-Ohs for tea.

I am a hero and I am okay.
I fight all night and I work all day
I cut down foes, I flip & skip
I like to kiss my Centy
I put on hero´s clothing
and hang around on roofs.

I am a hero and I am okay.
I fight all night and I work all day
I cut down foes, wear my hair with bows
Some chap stick & a mask
I guess I’m not that girly
But B.O.B is dead and gone

With the tape destroyed, her copy at least, Ruby could go into Leap of Faith with a clear conscience. One of the greatest battles of her career awaited. All of the odds, all of the decks stacked firmly against her. She wouldn’t have it any other way.]]>
Centurion: “You know, leverage is worthless if you don’t know what it’s worth.”

It was a sentence that seemed silly, but Ruby also knew that he was right. Still, she felt bad about the whole affair. She clapped her hands.

Ruby: “I’m stumped. I see only one solution.”

She looked over at Centurion in dramatic fashion.

Ruby: “Bring. Me. BOB!”

[Image: rEuB2NG.gif]


Quote:
THE OFFICES OF BOB LOBLAW
LOBLAW’S THE NAME
LAW’S THE GAME

Ruby didn’t often consult her lawyer, but if ever the time was right, it was now. Last time she had used his services it was when he had taken up the mantle of the Super Dear’O to find out how much she could get away with, legally speaking. After all, vigilantism was very much still frowned upon by actual law enforcement, and Ruby didn’t want to butt heads with the boys in blue. Given that, having a guy like Bob Loblaw on speed dial was rather fortuitous.

He got up from his desk as she walked into his office, and pointed two pistol-fingers at her.

Bob: “The Super Dear’O! My preferred client by a clear country mile! Mostly because you pay me in cereal these days, and that stuff is killer!”

Ruby: “Killer? It’s supposed to be healthy! Fantastic for the colon, if you believe the XWF website. Which, on this rare occasion, you certainly can.”

Bob: “That’s what I meant! These days, it just SLIDES…”

Ruby: “BOB! Sorry to interrupt my guy, but we’re kind of on the clock here.”

She slammed the tape down on to the desk.

Bob: “What’s that, Rubes?”

Ruby: “Heck if I know. It’s supposedly leverage against my bossman. Which tells me that it’s probably him doing something ‘legal, yet stupid’. Which is a good summarization of the dude.”

Bob: “What’s on it, then?”

Ruby: “I don’t know! And I’m not sure I want to. See, this chick is trying to put all of Vinnie’s business I the street. Now, I’m not a fan of not respecting one’s privacy to begin with, but she’s also using it to make him put me at a disadvantage. He had a match reversed, had him put me in a lumberjack match?”

Bob: “That the match where you cut down a tree the fastest?”

Ruby: “Nah. I wouldn’t want that. They’re the lungs of our planet! GO trees! Bring us that sweet, sweet oxygen! No, here it just means the ring is surrounded by other wrestlers who can beat you up if the ref isn’t looking. Except in this case, most of those lumberjacks will be B.O.B. members. AKA her lackeys. Meanwhile, I have a severe LACK of peeps in MY corner, ya dig? Which is fine. I’m not looking for an unfair advantage. I just wanna know if watching this tape could get me in trouble down the road.”

Bob: “Well, sure. Anything can get you in trouble. It’s also possible this tape is blank.”

Ruby: “Yeah, that’s possible I suppose. And I’m not stupid, I know Fury has a dozen contingency plans. That’s not the only copy, she likely has five dozen copies spread out all over the country just in case. This isn’t her first villainy rodeo. But what would I gain from knowing what’s on this?”

The lawyer sighed.

Bob: “Way I see it, if it’s compromising material you’d have to potentially turn on your boss. And knowing you, that means you’d have to take down the entire XWF, in which case you might as well…”

Ruby: “Join BoB?”

Bob: “Precisely. And if there’s nothing on there, you know you’ve been bamboozled. In which case, this Miss Fury will be living inside your head rent free. Not what you want before such a big match, right?”

Ruby took a deep breath, and nodded.

Ruby: “You’re right. I know what I have to do.”

She took the tape and left the office.

[Image: rEuB2NG.gif]


Ruby had made her way to an abandoned back alley. Usually, this was the kind of setting where she’d stop crimes, but right now she just needed to get rid of something. A small firepit was burning wood, and she looked at the tape.

Ruby: “Either you’re harmless and useless, or you’re harmful and dangerous. So it ain’t no lie, bye bye bye!”

She threw the tape into the fire and watched it lick at the plastic, before melting the film. She started whistling, before humming a song.

Quote:


I am a hero and I am okay.
I fight all night and I work all day
I cut down foes, I brush my teeth
I compete on Anarchy.
On Thursdays I go wrasslin’
and have Ruby-Ohs for tea.

I am a hero and I am okay.
I fight all night and I work all day
I cut down foes, I flip & skip
I like to kiss my Centy
I put on hero´s clothing
and hang around on roofs.

I am a hero and I am okay.
I fight all night and I work all day
I cut down foes, wear my hair with bows
Some chap stick & a mask
I guess I’m not that girly
But B.O.B is dead and gone

With the tape destroyed, her copy at least, Ruby could go into Leap of Faith with a clear conscience. One of the greatest battles of her career awaited. All of the odds, all of the decks stacked firmly against her. She wouldn’t have it any other way.]]>