<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - War Games 2021 PPV Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Fri, 08 May 2026 08:27:42 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Trash Talk That Ended It All]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41539 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 23:58:58 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41539


oot-doot-doodle-oodle oot doot do do

We are immediately thrust into a fantastical circus as a classic soundtrack repeats on loop in the background. On the ground beneath the tarp of the circus tent there are three distinct circus rings, but only the ring in the middle is blessed with the shine of the spotlight. The filled-to-capacity bleachers lining the circus rings are shrouded in darkness, save for the faint glow of randomly placed neon light sticks in the audience. The soft mumblings of conversing audience members quickly cease as a grimey voice begins to crawl into their ears through the speaker system.

Whores, pimps, sluts, and cunts! Thank you ALL so much for being here with us on this very special day.

Charlie Nickles steps into the spotlight of the central ring with a microphone held just beneath his lips. He’s dressed in an outlandishly elaborate outfit that is exclusively scarlet and gold in color. Looking like a circus ringmaster who stepped straight out of a previous century, Charlie’s legs are covered in loose fitting pants made with a shiny golden fabric while his upper body is totally concealed by a scarlet overcoat. He wears a fancy tophat that is both golden and scarlet in hue…..wait, are those sequins all over his hat?

We have a very special performance lined up for all you childish imps and fiendin’ simps! But first…….let me tell you all a little story.

The crowd erupts in a chorus of boos.

WHAT?! YOU DON’T LIKE STORY?!

The crowd continues to boo the very concept of stories. That’s not what they came HERE for. Charlie cracks a sly grin.

Well then, I believe the audience has spoken! But if you all don’t want stories….what DO you people want?!

Charlie scans the now voracious crowd as he raises a knowing eyebrow.

I know what you want. Daddy Charlie always knows what the people want….just ask Just ask Connie. Or Sue. Or Amanda. Or Karen. Or Jessica. Jessica, perhaps better than all, knows that the Nickleman always gives the people what they want….

And it’s always just so convenient that the people want to see me bust up Jessica’s roast beef putang! Jessica, Jessica, Jessica. She’s always been on the receiving end of my Fury. Literally. Every. Time.

But how could I ever spare her the pain and the misery? The people scream, holler, and cry out for her head….and her head is always amazing, because the bitch is absolutely toothless. Standing at five feet five and weighing a whole lot of nothing, this bitch somehow still manages to hold every single one of her incestuous step brothers down.

Oswald? Ghost Tank? That’s a household name. He should be a star in today’s XWF, I mean my god, just look at his history! He’s won his fair share of championship belts. And I mean REAL championship belts, not just that little toy that he refused to share with Solace. That man has defeated Thaddeus Duke, but even more impressively….he beat Demos!.....Well, at least I think that’s more impressive. I wasn’t around to see it, truthfully, but our good bitch Thaddeus Duke is always quick to point out that Ozzy’s most impressive victory was against Demos- and I’ve always just taken his word for it.

Ohhhhhh how the tanks have fallen, turned into ghosts of their former selves. Where’s the fire, Oswald? Where’s the passion? Is Jessica the only one in your little cult that’s allowed to have any trace of fury whatsoever? My my my, Ozzy, they sure have that cock cage locked on tight. But you must enjoy it, surely. SURELY.

Oswald clearly has a shameful humiliation kink. It’s true. Why else would he stay in BoB? They routinely mock, ridicule, and castigate him! AND HE LITERALLY PAYS THEM TO DO IT! He funds their lavish lifestyles, it was his vast array of resources that put BoB on the map….but he’s not BoB elite? That’s fucking rough.

In fact, Oswald is so far outside of BoB Elite that he almost had a rivalry going with them! For all of about two seconds! It was great. It really was. I think I speak for us all when I say we loved seeing Oswald’s balls drop in real time. It was fucking epic to see him ripping back against Chris Page and his cronies. For a few brief days, Oswald was exciting the XWF universe again. He had everyone on the edge of their seat….

‘Has Oswald finally snapped? Has he had enough of BoB Elite’s abuse? Is he going to crush them all for publicly mocking him while they stole his shrinking riches?’

We were all waiting for the fantastic face turn. We were all excited for you to flip the script, and actually start doing something of substance again!

And then….pfffffft. You shit your panties and went back to your abusers and detractors. Pathetic. They literally used the money you gave them to create an in-group inside of your organization that you were not invited to!

The mockery. The ridicule.

Where do you think it all comes from?

The embarrassment. The shame. The fleeing confidence and the shattered ego.

Where do you think it all comes from, Oswald?

It doesn’t come from us. It doesn’t come from the XWF. It doesn’t come from the fans, it doesn’t come from your fellow competitors…..well it didn’t start with us at least. It started much, much closer to your glass house than you care to believe…

Seriously, Oswald….how can you expect anyone to take you seriously when your own faction doesn’t respect you? As soon as Chris Page came into the fold you were cast aside like an abandoned step child.

And nothing’s changed.

Isn’t that right, Thunder Knuckles? Nothing has changed. You said it yourself, those words came out of your own cocksucking lips. They were sweet words, truly, and I couldn’t agree more.

You see, fine folks out there in the audience, I came into the XWF nearly one year ago from today......and in that time? Nothing has changed. At least, not when it comes to Thunder Knuckles and I. Of course in that year Shawn Warstein went from being the universal champion to consistently being the mysterious loser in every major battle royale. But when it comes to leaky teeky and I? Knuckles is absolutely right- nothing has changed.

He’s still nothing more than the cheeky little asshole leaving shitstains on my leather boots after every match. It’s ridiculous, really. Cut him open with a can opener, nothing but shit comes out. Slice him apart with a saw, same story. You could even sock the bitch square in the jaw on national television and still nothing would come out except a whole heap of bullshit justifications and excuses.

You can see it for yourself! Look at the results of our first ever match against each other! It was a crazy one, a real cakewalk for me. I shocked everyone. Every single member of BoB at the time- Bourbon, Fury, Oswald, TeeKay, and a whole host of forgettable flameouts- had entered the retro battle royale. As a team. To keep me from earning a shot at TeeKay’s television belt.

That’s right. The entire BoB war games team, and then some, decided to enter a battle royale with the specific intention of making sure Charlie Nickles didn’t win it.

And guess what?

I fucking won it. EASILY. But you already knew that. EVERYONE knows that I single handedly eliminated BoB’s war games team from that match by myself. All on my own.

And then later that night I pinned Thunder Knuckles. Then a few weeks later I pinned him again. I’ve beaten him every time- and all he’s ever done is sniff my farts- and that’s true facts. After every win against Thunder, I’ve been sure to rip a doozy right in his unconscious face. And that’s three straight doozies.

But for some reason, TeeKay likes to bitch, whine, and pretend that I only farted in his face twice. As if 2-0 and 3-0 are really that different, but shit, who am I to judge the coping mechanisms of another? Even still, Thunder’s nostrils know the truth.

And so does every fucking one of his stable mates.

Do they just sit there stroking his cock and wiping his tears when he tries to deny my first victory against him? Are they going to be hyping him up in the back before our finals match, telling him that he’s definitely going to beat me this time because he’s only 0-2 and not 0-3 against me? That’s a tough fucking sell, and no one in the XWF likes to be a good, honest salesman anymore.

But enough about those Bitchy Ovulatin’ Broads.

I know which ragtag gang of superstars you all REALLY came here to see….



A brief sound of thrashing metal is followed by a spotlight close beaming down over Marf the Strongman. His face is dirty with dried filth and blood and his mustache is twisted with what we hope is beeswax. He’s wearing an old timey, black wrestling singlet and flexing his arms.

Marf takes the surroundings of the carnival tent in, and can’t help but feel bonded with this strangely put together group. All of them people he gladly would have tore through just weeks ago but now...almost friends. That might’ve the scariest thought swimming with the sharks in his mind but Marf can’t help but grin wildly.

So this is it, the final stretch of way too many fucktards shouting to the rooftops why they’re the best. I already have a headache having to decipher all the nonsense every so called team has puked all over themselves. This is getting me more aggravated than Centurion on a Sunday morning when his neighbor mows the lawn at 7:30am. Stupid old fuck is suddenly on Team Corey like I’m supposed to give two shits. Congratulations Cent, you’ve somehow made the most boring team in this thing even more brutally, mind numbingly...boring. Silly fuck doesn’t even know why he’s here other than to do his best Clint Eastwood impression and yell at us to get off his lawn or some shit. I’m shocked he hasn’t self imploded just from listening to Alias speak. Good luck with that Cor, I’m sure your rag tag group of twats will be almost as successful as your last TV title defense.

Should be interesting to see who survives that first round between them and team Thad and Dock. I think there’s two others on that team but I couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. It’s a shock they weren’t replaced I mean fuck, Andre Dixon is still alive? Is Chaos still doing the corporate whore shtick or is he back to being just a regular ole whore. Yeah, it should be real interesting to see if Thad can stop stroking his...ego, to carry this team over overrated, underwhelming wet farts. I hope Dock at least makes it through round one, we haven’t had the pleasure of sharing a ring together since I stabbed him at Snowjob. I promise not to play any safer…

Marf stops to grin again, those memories bringing joy to his soul.

Speaking of stabbing, a little birdie told me the substitute on Team Betsy doesn’t like me. Yeah, I heard ya pal, and guess what? Fuck you too, Shawn. Ah jeez, Warstein threw shade at me, whatever will I do? Am I supposed to give a fuck about your opinion? Help team Betsy fail, blame it on everyone else but your toxic self and then fuck off. Again. Seriously, nobody fucking cares what you’re doing in other feds, stop putting us to sleep with your wonderfully useless accolades. I feel bad for Lycana having to sit in the group therapy sessions with you, the other dickstain Estrada and the time travelling mongrol Betsy. The other groups are rough but Jesus Christ you guys are worse than a two hour Jenny Myst promo. And almost as riddled with STDs. I think only BoB has you beat in that last category.

Ahh, BoB, you fucking clowns. Here we are again, yet again I see you’ve been making promises and claims you can’t possibly uphold. My favourite one easily is stating I’m going to quit after War Games. Umm, why exactly? Because a giant group of shrivelled cocks laughed at me? Fuck it, better just pack my bags now. Just like last time I faced the Bastards right? Oh wait, I’m still here. Still pulling myself up and still fighting tooth and fucking nail. And I’ll keep doing so, without surrounding myself with a million other useless fucks. I’ll keep doing it without making a bullshit title and pretending people care about me. I’ll keep doing it without getting fake tits and making my own show so I can book myself and loser friends to be relevant. I’ve said it before and I’ll never stop saying it, fuck BoB.

Fuck team Thad, team Corey, team Betsy, team Bobbing for cock and most of all, fuck team limp Dick. The same team that has Geri fuckin Vayden and actually things they’ll do anything other than fail and fade away. That dumb cunt actually had the audacity to call me out for being picked late. Yes, the same shovel faced bitch that didn’t even get picked herself. You were the fucking leftover! You have no legs to stand on in regards to who got picked where now why don’t you go shove another guitar into that cum covered mouth of yours. It’s okay if your team plays it later, I’m sure you’ve given them all herpes by now anyway. For Powers that should help him complete the trifecta since he’s already got crabs and chlamydia. Even though poor Jimbo can’t spell chlamydia he’s still no stranger to it. All those gutter rats known as cheap hookers he’s blown his money and several loads on, not really a surprise there. But then there’s Ned...can soccer moms even contract STDs? Nah, he’s probably cleaner than a Lysol wipe and just enjoys scratching his balls. Oddly enough he’s also as difficult to find as a Lysol wipe these days. Too much time failing with Avaleft Hand Lite. Not one of you limp Dick warriors will survive this war. Only thing I can recommend for you at this point, go get tested once you’re done hanging out with ole Dicky boy...


Marf smirks one last time and nods over to an unlit spot of the circus tent. As he does, another light flashes on, revealing Robert Main. The Monstrosity. His face is warped with every bad intention, and every bloodthirst known to man. He’s wearing a mane of a lion around the collar of his leather jacket.


” Dick Powers wanted to subjugate Robert Main for the Xtreme Championship is a joke? Sure, if we could even get the syphilis-covered clown to show up for the match… You wanted about as much of Robert Main as Noah Jackson did when he wanted to fearlessly defend the Tag Team Championships or as much as Gator did when Robert was slated to defend the Universal Championship… Robert Main has never taken the words of a no showing bitch slinging dick jokes to heart… And never will... All this coming from a guy who would have one beer at a party and then start sucking dick for painkillers… Real bad boy… Powers the second you stepped foot in the squared circle you would have been steamrolled like the frail transvestite that you are… You never wanted a shot, that’s just blowing SMOKE (not the piss pump he cherishes) up everyone’s ass… But never fear my herpes covered friend, ask and you shall receive a cracked skull… I’ll make dame sure that you get every single word you uttered right up your loose ass hole sideways, just how you like it... Dick says that Robert Main just pops up and sells pay-per-views… When’s the last time we had a Dick Powers sighting? When has Dick Powers accomplished anything more than being the butt of everyone's jokes… Robert Main might be a rat running around in a maze, but that maze leads to the hall of legends… Unlike Dick Powers maze that leads to his local drug dealer's custard launcher and a crack pipe... Power’s is trying to run a team like a man with two prosthetic legs and when he falls flat on his face, he will wonder why… Dick you are and always have been a God damn joke and team that you assembled is chalked full of incompetent deadbeats that couldn’t wrestler their way out of a paper fucking bag… Each person that you picked, had their best days years ago… You’ve assembled an entire team stacked with lemons from top to bottom, catastrophes that will crumble in the willing and able hands of Team Charlie… Including that thin dicked politician Jim, trying to thread every needle he can with his pintsized pecker… Jim Caedus cannot carry the weight of an anemic team built of jack offs… Hell, Jim can barely carry the weight of everyday chores without thinking someone is out to get him, let alone handle the pressure of this situation… If there is one thing that Jim Caedus is known for, it's when the limelight is shining down, he becomes an insubstantial, insufficient, bush-league bitch… And if the past tells us anything… Well... You're all sorts of fucked…”



The Monstrosity snarled before continuing…



”B.o.B.”



A sinister chuckle comes from the demon as he lifts a Louisville slugger covered in barbed wire….



[Image: A4JjWG2.jpg]



” It’s time for payback and this sort of thing just tickles my gigantic balls knowing there is a chance that after I’m finished stomping on Caedus’s face until he wheezes and gurgles and puffs up like a baboon’s ass… I’ll then slide my dick down his throat as he thanks me for the ass beating, I just handed him… I’ll have the opportunity to knock TK’s teeth out with my swinging dick, then smash him so brutally his eyeballs pop out of his skull. All so I can skull fuck the sockets like the money-grubbing whore, live on pay-per-view… I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time now… Each one of you B.o.B fuck-tards all thought that you’d all grow old together running rough shot over the XWF, sitting at the table stacked to the ceiling with Championships on lazy Sunday afternoon, with those shit eating grins and live out your wrestling careers happily ever after… WRONG! I’m coming into Wargame on a kamikaze mission, and I hate to break it to you, but life just isn’t going to work out the way you hoped for… Because I’m not going to allow it… Jim Caedus is going to get Blingsteen part dux in the first round and there isn’t a damn thing any of you can do to stop it…. Chris Page kept the big dog locked up as long as he could… But he had to know, each one of you had to understand one fundamental fact… Sooner or later, the dog’s going to run… That moment is rapidly approaching where each of you will realize you don’t know shit… You little bastards see that no matter what you decide to do, you don’t mess with “The Omega”. Robert fucking Main settles scores that need settling and eventually I’ll get my hands on each one of you and settle those score… Wargames you’ll be up to speed real quick and you’ll regret the moment you decided to crossing me. The only way now is punishment, I cannot move an inch forward without it… Retribution is how I’ve built everything I’ve ever obtained… And I refuse to move forward until I have it… After everything that has transpired, there is no turning back, there is no getting out of it… I wouldn’t accept your surrender if you came to me begging on your knees like the bitches that you are… Winning isn’t about beating B.o.B. Winning this war is about ending your careers. That is the reset needed… That is starting over. That is the breath of fresh air that allows this federation to flourish once more… I know that is a mighty big pill to swallow… But swallow it you fucking will…”

There’s a moment of quiet anticipation overtaking the crowd as Robert bows his head...

They’ve always asked: ‘what would’ve happened had Dolly Waters never left?’

‘What could she have been with more training, with more motivation, more experience?’

‘What would happen if that little girl who turned the wrestling world on its head in just a matter of months is ever properly motivated?’

A third and final spotlight casts down over Dolly Waters, her face is like stone, and smeared with dried, cakey blood. Resembling something like a horrible cosmetic accident of a circus clown,

I hope yer’ all ready to find out.

They’ve all circled in that echo chamber for years, because they know that the real Dolly Waters is dangerous. They’ve used those talking points to make sense of why every time I step in that ring I leave egos shattered like a coffee mug. They use those sentiments to make excuses for why I ended up on the original XWF Top 50, with all the names that have since moved on to the Hall Of Legends.

‘Dolly could've been great’ they’ll tell you, ‘If only she weren’t such a flake’.

It’s the only argument any of this War Games field has for me, and they scramble to clutch it, tearing it from one another’s hands because just my presence alone has them slipping on their gear shifts. Because truth be told, they’re terrified.

Why wouldn’t they be?

How many times have I had to return to the XWF and slaughter everything that gets stood before me while being doused in a torrent of bad-faith by people who have been just as in-and-out of wrestling as me, if not worse. Dick? Jim? Ned? Geri? REALLY?!

A pissing contest to see which one of them pisses their pants and disappears on a regular basis the hardest?

It’s fine, let all of the cowards hide in their hypocrisy. None of them have the balls to face down and acknowledge the worst of themselves the way I have.

I’ll be the Joan of Arc for their collective failures, because I’m not afraid of what makes these unimaginative shitwad wrestling acts insecure. You know why? Because Dolly Waters is a fucking natural.

Naturally, since my return, I’ve been called a flake for the millionth time, and yet naturally I returned after two years and smacked James Raven and Centurion around while barely breaking a sweat.

Naturally I have the “big” “bad” Brotherhood of Baddies conflicted and contorting because I won’t join their hyper-saturated, ego-reeking, clout-chasing stable. I know Fury stays misdirected, too doped up on turning herself into hentai clickbait for her basement dwelling fanbois to follow along with her own plot... but you can’t both simultaneously beg me to join your group and tell everyone I’m not worth a fuck, DEAR.

Talk about an attention seeking whore, right TK?

You sure do like em’, I guess that’s why BOB’s “offer still stands” for Dolly Waters, huh?

Naturally…

Miss Fury’s pretend superiority didn’t sound like someone punching-down at me in that whiny, menstrual cramp of a promo, she sounded like someone offended. Someone with their feelings hurt. Not evil, not intimidating, just the fury of a scorned cunt who ain’t got a chance in hell of beating me. She should stick to trying Bobby’s one liners, that type of thoughtless doody-splatter should be easy for her to pick up. It’s more entertaining than listening to Fury victimize herself with my name.

I ain't scared of you, JESSICA. I’ve beaten better, and I’ve lost to better. But WHEN we meet in that ring at War Games, I’m going to show you why yer’ justified in wanting Dolly Waters as a member of BOB.

Yes, I said: *when we meet*.

Naturally… because the Carnival is coming to Bethel Woods, NY and sadly, Dick is too short to ride in the main event of War Games. Short sighted, short changed, short handed and shit out of luck.

I’m sorry, but it’s pretty obvious that he had no clue what he was doing when he drafted his team, and not just because they’re a flaming bag of dog shit, but because Dick is notorious for not having a clue what’s going on around him. In the lead up to our match at Leap Of Faith, the promo he doubled-down on, the stupid fuck said that Vita held my hand. When were Vita and I ever friends? The only thing Vita ever held onto was for dear life when I dragged her around the ring with her nostrils. He said the same thing about me and Doc, and he was just as wrong.

It makes perfect sense why Dick would’ve drafted such a terrible team because he doesn’t know a goddamn thing about any of them. Dick said he drafted each of them because they’ve been a part of a stable.

That was your brilliant strategy?

I would pause to laugh right now, but this should serve as a moment of concern for you.

Jim Caedus has just recently self-destructed a stable for what? The second? Third time now? And awoken this grisly s.o.b standing stage right.

She points her head towards Robert Main’s Monstrosity,

Great selection! Before our match is over, Jim Caedus will be down on his knees crying and apologizing like every other time he fucks up just before Robert reminds him of APEX’s pecking order.

Ned Kaye? The guy who couldn’t cut it in APEX Legacy and quit the company?

I mean you call it quitting with me, same shitty sentiment should apply huh?

Ned Kaye got his ass handed to him not only by Cap’n Charlie, but Demos as well. You think Avalanche is a stable? They’ve been on TV together how many times? Twice? They couldn’t take out the Bastards, and they couldn’t keep Ned’s paper championship reign intact against Thad either. What type of 7-D chess do you expect Ned to bring to these War Games? He couldn’t beat Robert, he couldn’t beat Edgar fair and square, he couldn’t beat the Stalin cuck version of Charlie, and his lackeys couldn’t Marf. The only thing Ned is capable of beating is his shitty home made video games, and only if he uses cheat codes.

I think you put yer eggs in the wrong nest, Dick. Maybe ACUCKalypse Now would’ve been able to overcome whatever in the fuck that disaster Betsy drafted is..

-I mean hold the phone for a second, can we all not sit back in awe at that heaping pile of garbage? They’re probably the only team in history who could add a former Universal Champion to their ranks and actually be taking a step back, it’s mind blowing-

...but Dick, yer’ not getting past the Carnies. I’ll do everything in my power to see that through. I’d do anything for these Carnies, and I could care less if they appreciated it or not, Dick. That was when I knew you weren’t going to be able to beat us, the moment you scoffed at the idea of me repping my squad.

Naturally...

You laughed at me being dedicated and loyal to seeing this process through. Saying I’ve got too much potential to waste my time with them? Eat shit. It ain’t about me. I’ll throw myself in harm's way, I’ll take the fall, I’ll burn every ounce of my energy, my ability, my sanity, and my body to see to it that Charlie’s Carnies wins War Games, with, or without Dolly Waters. I’ve already killed myself for this team in more ways than one. I’m willing to risk everything for them, because that’s the kind of person I am.

The only reason there’s a difference between us, Dick. A difference between us and the entire War Games field is that we confronted and destroyed our egos, and we did it as a team…Now we’ve got nothing to lose. We don’t need to mask ourselves with hypocrisy and a pretty face to go to war. Other than that we’re exactly the same, except I know the worst of Dolly Waters, and it’s the same bad elements that’s in each and every one of you. I know thy enemy because I am thy enemy, and I’m not scared to admit that. WE’RE not scared to say aloud, the truth you all whisper to yourselves:

That we’re all just stars in the dope show.

I couldn’t have said it better myself, baby.

The spotlight shines down on Charlie once more as sets his gleeful gaze on his carnies. A look of psychotic adoration overtakes him as he wipes a bit of mist from his eyelids. Outside of the tent, the air locks pop on a vintage tin covered greyhound bus. The sound brings a glowing smile to The Ringmaster's face as he turns back to address the audience.

Ladies and gentlemen… It’s time for Charlie’s Carnies to take the dope show on the road. Next stop! Bethel Woods, New York for a little war, and a lot of games.

Get your tickets now and see this spectacle before you in all it’s deranged might!

Oh, but before I go….can one of you fine folks in the audience deliver a message to little Dicky Pee for me?

I have his mojo. It’s on the tip of my cock. He can slurp it up after I’m done putting the spirit of a great wrestler inside of Geri Vayden.

The camera zooms in on Charlie’s face. He gives the audience a sly wink before the feed cuts out.



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oot-doot-doodle-oodle oot doot do do

We are immediately thrust into a fantastical circus as a classic soundtrack repeats on loop in the background. On the ground beneath the tarp of the circus tent there are three distinct circus rings, but only the ring in the middle is blessed with the shine of the spotlight. The filled-to-capacity bleachers lining the circus rings are shrouded in darkness, save for the faint glow of randomly placed neon light sticks in the audience. The soft mumblings of conversing audience members quickly cease as a grimey voice begins to crawl into their ears through the speaker system.

Whores, pimps, sluts, and cunts! Thank you ALL so much for being here with us on this very special day.

Charlie Nickles steps into the spotlight of the central ring with a microphone held just beneath his lips. He’s dressed in an outlandishly elaborate outfit that is exclusively scarlet and gold in color. Looking like a circus ringmaster who stepped straight out of a previous century, Charlie’s legs are covered in loose fitting pants made with a shiny golden fabric while his upper body is totally concealed by a scarlet overcoat. He wears a fancy tophat that is both golden and scarlet in hue…..wait, are those sequins all over his hat?

We have a very special performance lined up for all you childish imps and fiendin’ simps! But first…….let me tell you all a little story.

The crowd erupts in a chorus of boos.

WHAT?! YOU DON’T LIKE STORY?!

The crowd continues to boo the very concept of stories. That’s not what they came HERE for. Charlie cracks a sly grin.

Well then, I believe the audience has spoken! But if you all don’t want stories….what DO you people want?!

Charlie scans the now voracious crowd as he raises a knowing eyebrow.

I know what you want. Daddy Charlie always knows what the people want….just ask Just ask Connie. Or Sue. Or Amanda. Or Karen. Or Jessica. Jessica, perhaps better than all, knows that the Nickleman always gives the people what they want….

And it’s always just so convenient that the people want to see me bust up Jessica’s roast beef putang! Jessica, Jessica, Jessica. She’s always been on the receiving end of my Fury. Literally. Every. Time.

But how could I ever spare her the pain and the misery? The people scream, holler, and cry out for her head….and her head is always amazing, because the bitch is absolutely toothless. Standing at five feet five and weighing a whole lot of nothing, this bitch somehow still manages to hold every single one of her incestuous step brothers down.

Oswald? Ghost Tank? That’s a household name. He should be a star in today’s XWF, I mean my god, just look at his history! He’s won his fair share of championship belts. And I mean REAL championship belts, not just that little toy that he refused to share with Solace. That man has defeated Thaddeus Duke, but even more impressively….he beat Demos!.....Well, at least I think that’s more impressive. I wasn’t around to see it, truthfully, but our good bitch Thaddeus Duke is always quick to point out that Ozzy’s most impressive victory was against Demos- and I’ve always just taken his word for it.

Ohhhhhh how the tanks have fallen, turned into ghosts of their former selves. Where’s the fire, Oswald? Where’s the passion? Is Jessica the only one in your little cult that’s allowed to have any trace of fury whatsoever? My my my, Ozzy, they sure have that cock cage locked on tight. But you must enjoy it, surely. SURELY.

Oswald clearly has a shameful humiliation kink. It’s true. Why else would he stay in BoB? They routinely mock, ridicule, and castigate him! AND HE LITERALLY PAYS THEM TO DO IT! He funds their lavish lifestyles, it was his vast array of resources that put BoB on the map….but he’s not BoB elite? That’s fucking rough.

In fact, Oswald is so far outside of BoB Elite that he almost had a rivalry going with them! For all of about two seconds! It was great. It really was. I think I speak for us all when I say we loved seeing Oswald’s balls drop in real time. It was fucking epic to see him ripping back against Chris Page and his cronies. For a few brief days, Oswald was exciting the XWF universe again. He had everyone on the edge of their seat….

‘Has Oswald finally snapped? Has he had enough of BoB Elite’s abuse? Is he going to crush them all for publicly mocking him while they stole his shrinking riches?’

We were all waiting for the fantastic face turn. We were all excited for you to flip the script, and actually start doing something of substance again!

And then….pfffffft. You shit your panties and went back to your abusers and detractors. Pathetic. They literally used the money you gave them to create an in-group inside of your organization that you were not invited to!

The mockery. The ridicule.

Where do you think it all comes from?

The embarrassment. The shame. The fleeing confidence and the shattered ego.

Where do you think it all comes from, Oswald?

It doesn’t come from us. It doesn’t come from the XWF. It doesn’t come from the fans, it doesn’t come from your fellow competitors…..well it didn’t start with us at least. It started much, much closer to your glass house than you care to believe…

Seriously, Oswald….how can you expect anyone to take you seriously when your own faction doesn’t respect you? As soon as Chris Page came into the fold you were cast aside like an abandoned step child.

And nothing’s changed.

Isn’t that right, Thunder Knuckles? Nothing has changed. You said it yourself, those words came out of your own cocksucking lips. They were sweet words, truly, and I couldn’t agree more.

You see, fine folks out there in the audience, I came into the XWF nearly one year ago from today......and in that time? Nothing has changed. At least, not when it comes to Thunder Knuckles and I. Of course in that year Shawn Warstein went from being the universal champion to consistently being the mysterious loser in every major battle royale. But when it comes to leaky teeky and I? Knuckles is absolutely right- nothing has changed.

He’s still nothing more than the cheeky little asshole leaving shitstains on my leather boots after every match. It’s ridiculous, really. Cut him open with a can opener, nothing but shit comes out. Slice him apart with a saw, same story. You could even sock the bitch square in the jaw on national television and still nothing would come out except a whole heap of bullshit justifications and excuses.

You can see it for yourself! Look at the results of our first ever match against each other! It was a crazy one, a real cakewalk for me. I shocked everyone. Every single member of BoB at the time- Bourbon, Fury, Oswald, TeeKay, and a whole host of forgettable flameouts- had entered the retro battle royale. As a team. To keep me from earning a shot at TeeKay’s television belt.

That’s right. The entire BoB war games team, and then some, decided to enter a battle royale with the specific intention of making sure Charlie Nickles didn’t win it.

And guess what?

I fucking won it. EASILY. But you already knew that. EVERYONE knows that I single handedly eliminated BoB’s war games team from that match by myself. All on my own.

And then later that night I pinned Thunder Knuckles. Then a few weeks later I pinned him again. I’ve beaten him every time- and all he’s ever done is sniff my farts- and that’s true facts. After every win against Thunder, I’ve been sure to rip a doozy right in his unconscious face. And that’s three straight doozies.

But for some reason, TeeKay likes to bitch, whine, and pretend that I only farted in his face twice. As if 2-0 and 3-0 are really that different, but shit, who am I to judge the coping mechanisms of another? Even still, Thunder’s nostrils know the truth.

And so does every fucking one of his stable mates.

Do they just sit there stroking his cock and wiping his tears when he tries to deny my first victory against him? Are they going to be hyping him up in the back before our finals match, telling him that he’s definitely going to beat me this time because he’s only 0-2 and not 0-3 against me? That’s a tough fucking sell, and no one in the XWF likes to be a good, honest salesman anymore.

But enough about those Bitchy Ovulatin’ Broads.

I know which ragtag gang of superstars you all REALLY came here to see….



A brief sound of thrashing metal is followed by a spotlight close beaming down over Marf the Strongman. His face is dirty with dried filth and blood and his mustache is twisted with what we hope is beeswax. He’s wearing an old timey, black wrestling singlet and flexing his arms.

Marf takes the surroundings of the carnival tent in, and can’t help but feel bonded with this strangely put together group. All of them people he gladly would have tore through just weeks ago but now...almost friends. That might’ve the scariest thought swimming with the sharks in his mind but Marf can’t help but grin wildly.

So this is it, the final stretch of way too many fucktards shouting to the rooftops why they’re the best. I already have a headache having to decipher all the nonsense every so called team has puked all over themselves. This is getting me more aggravated than Centurion on a Sunday morning when his neighbor mows the lawn at 7:30am. Stupid old fuck is suddenly on Team Corey like I’m supposed to give two shits. Congratulations Cent, you’ve somehow made the most boring team in this thing even more brutally, mind numbingly...boring. Silly fuck doesn’t even know why he’s here other than to do his best Clint Eastwood impression and yell at us to get off his lawn or some shit. I’m shocked he hasn’t self imploded just from listening to Alias speak. Good luck with that Cor, I’m sure your rag tag group of twats will be almost as successful as your last TV title defense.

Should be interesting to see who survives that first round between them and team Thad and Dock. I think there’s two others on that team but I couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. It’s a shock they weren’t replaced I mean fuck, Andre Dixon is still alive? Is Chaos still doing the corporate whore shtick or is he back to being just a regular ole whore. Yeah, it should be real interesting to see if Thad can stop stroking his...ego, to carry this team over overrated, underwhelming wet farts. I hope Dock at least makes it through round one, we haven’t had the pleasure of sharing a ring together since I stabbed him at Snowjob. I promise not to play any safer…

Marf stops to grin again, those memories bringing joy to his soul.

Speaking of stabbing, a little birdie told me the substitute on Team Betsy doesn’t like me. Yeah, I heard ya pal, and guess what? Fuck you too, Shawn. Ah jeez, Warstein threw shade at me, whatever will I do? Am I supposed to give a fuck about your opinion? Help team Betsy fail, blame it on everyone else but your toxic self and then fuck off. Again. Seriously, nobody fucking cares what you’re doing in other feds, stop putting us to sleep with your wonderfully useless accolades. I feel bad for Lycana having to sit in the group therapy sessions with you, the other dickstain Estrada and the time travelling mongrol Betsy. The other groups are rough but Jesus Christ you guys are worse than a two hour Jenny Myst promo. And almost as riddled with STDs. I think only BoB has you beat in that last category.

Ahh, BoB, you fucking clowns. Here we are again, yet again I see you’ve been making promises and claims you can’t possibly uphold. My favourite one easily is stating I’m going to quit after War Games. Umm, why exactly? Because a giant group of shrivelled cocks laughed at me? Fuck it, better just pack my bags now. Just like last time I faced the Bastards right? Oh wait, I’m still here. Still pulling myself up and still fighting tooth and fucking nail. And I’ll keep doing so, without surrounding myself with a million other useless fucks. I’ll keep doing it without making a bullshit title and pretending people care about me. I’ll keep doing it without getting fake tits and making my own show so I can book myself and loser friends to be relevant. I’ve said it before and I’ll never stop saying it, fuck BoB.

Fuck team Thad, team Corey, team Betsy, team Bobbing for cock and most of all, fuck team limp Dick. The same team that has Geri fuckin Vayden and actually things they’ll do anything other than fail and fade away. That dumb cunt actually had the audacity to call me out for being picked late. Yes, the same shovel faced bitch that didn’t even get picked herself. You were the fucking leftover! You have no legs to stand on in regards to who got picked where now why don’t you go shove another guitar into that cum covered mouth of yours. It’s okay if your team plays it later, I’m sure you’ve given them all herpes by now anyway. For Powers that should help him complete the trifecta since he’s already got crabs and chlamydia. Even though poor Jimbo can’t spell chlamydia he’s still no stranger to it. All those gutter rats known as cheap hookers he’s blown his money and several loads on, not really a surprise there. But then there’s Ned...can soccer moms even contract STDs? Nah, he’s probably cleaner than a Lysol wipe and just enjoys scratching his balls. Oddly enough he’s also as difficult to find as a Lysol wipe these days. Too much time failing with Avaleft Hand Lite. Not one of you limp Dick warriors will survive this war. Only thing I can recommend for you at this point, go get tested once you’re done hanging out with ole Dicky boy...


Marf smirks one last time and nods over to an unlit spot of the circus tent. As he does, another light flashes on, revealing Robert Main. The Monstrosity. His face is warped with every bad intention, and every bloodthirst known to man. He’s wearing a mane of a lion around the collar of his leather jacket.


” Dick Powers wanted to subjugate Robert Main for the Xtreme Championship is a joke? Sure, if we could even get the syphilis-covered clown to show up for the match… You wanted about as much of Robert Main as Noah Jackson did when he wanted to fearlessly defend the Tag Team Championships or as much as Gator did when Robert was slated to defend the Universal Championship… Robert Main has never taken the words of a no showing bitch slinging dick jokes to heart… And never will... All this coming from a guy who would have one beer at a party and then start sucking dick for painkillers… Real bad boy… Powers the second you stepped foot in the squared circle you would have been steamrolled like the frail transvestite that you are… You never wanted a shot, that’s just blowing SMOKE (not the piss pump he cherishes) up everyone’s ass… But never fear my herpes covered friend, ask and you shall receive a cracked skull… I’ll make dame sure that you get every single word you uttered right up your loose ass hole sideways, just how you like it... Dick says that Robert Main just pops up and sells pay-per-views… When’s the last time we had a Dick Powers sighting? When has Dick Powers accomplished anything more than being the butt of everyone's jokes… Robert Main might be a rat running around in a maze, but that maze leads to the hall of legends… Unlike Dick Powers maze that leads to his local drug dealer's custard launcher and a crack pipe... Power’s is trying to run a team like a man with two prosthetic legs and when he falls flat on his face, he will wonder why… Dick you are and always have been a God damn joke and team that you assembled is chalked full of incompetent deadbeats that couldn’t wrestler their way out of a paper fucking bag… Each person that you picked, had their best days years ago… You’ve assembled an entire team stacked with lemons from top to bottom, catastrophes that will crumble in the willing and able hands of Team Charlie… Including that thin dicked politician Jim, trying to thread every needle he can with his pintsized pecker… Jim Caedus cannot carry the weight of an anemic team built of jack offs… Hell, Jim can barely carry the weight of everyday chores without thinking someone is out to get him, let alone handle the pressure of this situation… If there is one thing that Jim Caedus is known for, it's when the limelight is shining down, he becomes an insubstantial, insufficient, bush-league bitch… And if the past tells us anything… Well... You're all sorts of fucked…”



The Monstrosity snarled before continuing…



”B.o.B.”



A sinister chuckle comes from the demon as he lifts a Louisville slugger covered in barbed wire….



[Image: A4JjWG2.jpg]



” It’s time for payback and this sort of thing just tickles my gigantic balls knowing there is a chance that after I’m finished stomping on Caedus’s face until he wheezes and gurgles and puffs up like a baboon’s ass… I’ll then slide my dick down his throat as he thanks me for the ass beating, I just handed him… I’ll have the opportunity to knock TK’s teeth out with my swinging dick, then smash him so brutally his eyeballs pop out of his skull. All so I can skull fuck the sockets like the money-grubbing whore, live on pay-per-view… I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time now… Each one of you B.o.B fuck-tards all thought that you’d all grow old together running rough shot over the XWF, sitting at the table stacked to the ceiling with Championships on lazy Sunday afternoon, with those shit eating grins and live out your wrestling careers happily ever after… WRONG! I’m coming into Wargame on a kamikaze mission, and I hate to break it to you, but life just isn’t going to work out the way you hoped for… Because I’m not going to allow it… Jim Caedus is going to get Blingsteen part dux in the first round and there isn’t a damn thing any of you can do to stop it…. Chris Page kept the big dog locked up as long as he could… But he had to know, each one of you had to understand one fundamental fact… Sooner or later, the dog’s going to run… That moment is rapidly approaching where each of you will realize you don’t know shit… You little bastards see that no matter what you decide to do, you don’t mess with “The Omega”. Robert fucking Main settles scores that need settling and eventually I’ll get my hands on each one of you and settle those score… Wargames you’ll be up to speed real quick and you’ll regret the moment you decided to crossing me. The only way now is punishment, I cannot move an inch forward without it… Retribution is how I’ve built everything I’ve ever obtained… And I refuse to move forward until I have it… After everything that has transpired, there is no turning back, there is no getting out of it… I wouldn’t accept your surrender if you came to me begging on your knees like the bitches that you are… Winning isn’t about beating B.o.B. Winning this war is about ending your careers. That is the reset needed… That is starting over. That is the breath of fresh air that allows this federation to flourish once more… I know that is a mighty big pill to swallow… But swallow it you fucking will…”

There’s a moment of quiet anticipation overtaking the crowd as Robert bows his head...

They’ve always asked: ‘what would’ve happened had Dolly Waters never left?’

‘What could she have been with more training, with more motivation, more experience?’

‘What would happen if that little girl who turned the wrestling world on its head in just a matter of months is ever properly motivated?’

A third and final spotlight casts down over Dolly Waters, her face is like stone, and smeared with dried, cakey blood. Resembling something like a horrible cosmetic accident of a circus clown,

I hope yer’ all ready to find out.

They’ve all circled in that echo chamber for years, because they know that the real Dolly Waters is dangerous. They’ve used those talking points to make sense of why every time I step in that ring I leave egos shattered like a coffee mug. They use those sentiments to make excuses for why I ended up on the original XWF Top 50, with all the names that have since moved on to the Hall Of Legends.

‘Dolly could've been great’ they’ll tell you, ‘If only she weren’t such a flake’.

It’s the only argument any of this War Games field has for me, and they scramble to clutch it, tearing it from one another’s hands because just my presence alone has them slipping on their gear shifts. Because truth be told, they’re terrified.

Why wouldn’t they be?

How many times have I had to return to the XWF and slaughter everything that gets stood before me while being doused in a torrent of bad-faith by people who have been just as in-and-out of wrestling as me, if not worse. Dick? Jim? Ned? Geri? REALLY?!

A pissing contest to see which one of them pisses their pants and disappears on a regular basis the hardest?

It’s fine, let all of the cowards hide in their hypocrisy. None of them have the balls to face down and acknowledge the worst of themselves the way I have.

I’ll be the Joan of Arc for their collective failures, because I’m not afraid of what makes these unimaginative shitwad wrestling acts insecure. You know why? Because Dolly Waters is a fucking natural.

Naturally, since my return, I’ve been called a flake for the millionth time, and yet naturally I returned after two years and smacked James Raven and Centurion around while barely breaking a sweat.

Naturally I have the “big” “bad” Brotherhood of Baddies conflicted and contorting because I won’t join their hyper-saturated, ego-reeking, clout-chasing stable. I know Fury stays misdirected, too doped up on turning herself into hentai clickbait for her basement dwelling fanbois to follow along with her own plot... but you can’t both simultaneously beg me to join your group and tell everyone I’m not worth a fuck, DEAR.

Talk about an attention seeking whore, right TK?

You sure do like em’, I guess that’s why BOB’s “offer still stands” for Dolly Waters, huh?

Naturally…

Miss Fury’s pretend superiority didn’t sound like someone punching-down at me in that whiny, menstrual cramp of a promo, she sounded like someone offended. Someone with their feelings hurt. Not evil, not intimidating, just the fury of a scorned cunt who ain’t got a chance in hell of beating me. She should stick to trying Bobby’s one liners, that type of thoughtless doody-splatter should be easy for her to pick up. It’s more entertaining than listening to Fury victimize herself with my name.

I ain't scared of you, JESSICA. I’ve beaten better, and I’ve lost to better. But WHEN we meet in that ring at War Games, I’m going to show you why yer’ justified in wanting Dolly Waters as a member of BOB.

Yes, I said: *when we meet*.

Naturally… because the Carnival is coming to Bethel Woods, NY and sadly, Dick is too short to ride in the main event of War Games. Short sighted, short changed, short handed and shit out of luck.

I’m sorry, but it’s pretty obvious that he had no clue what he was doing when he drafted his team, and not just because they’re a flaming bag of dog shit, but because Dick is notorious for not having a clue what’s going on around him. In the lead up to our match at Leap Of Faith, the promo he doubled-down on, the stupid fuck said that Vita held my hand. When were Vita and I ever friends? The only thing Vita ever held onto was for dear life when I dragged her around the ring with her nostrils. He said the same thing about me and Doc, and he was just as wrong.

It makes perfect sense why Dick would’ve drafted such a terrible team because he doesn’t know a goddamn thing about any of them. Dick said he drafted each of them because they’ve been a part of a stable.

That was your brilliant strategy?

I would pause to laugh right now, but this should serve as a moment of concern for you.

Jim Caedus has just recently self-destructed a stable for what? The second? Third time now? And awoken this grisly s.o.b standing stage right.

She points her head towards Robert Main’s Monstrosity,

Great selection! Before our match is over, Jim Caedus will be down on his knees crying and apologizing like every other time he fucks up just before Robert reminds him of APEX’s pecking order.

Ned Kaye? The guy who couldn’t cut it in APEX Legacy and quit the company?

I mean you call it quitting with me, same shitty sentiment should apply huh?

Ned Kaye got his ass handed to him not only by Cap’n Charlie, but Demos as well. You think Avalanche is a stable? They’ve been on TV together how many times? Twice? They couldn’t take out the Bastards, and they couldn’t keep Ned’s paper championship reign intact against Thad either. What type of 7-D chess do you expect Ned to bring to these War Games? He couldn’t beat Robert, he couldn’t beat Edgar fair and square, he couldn’t beat the Stalin cuck version of Charlie, and his lackeys couldn’t Marf. The only thing Ned is capable of beating is his shitty home made video games, and only if he uses cheat codes.

I think you put yer eggs in the wrong nest, Dick. Maybe ACUCKalypse Now would’ve been able to overcome whatever in the fuck that disaster Betsy drafted is..

-I mean hold the phone for a second, can we all not sit back in awe at that heaping pile of garbage? They’re probably the only team in history who could add a former Universal Champion to their ranks and actually be taking a step back, it’s mind blowing-

...but Dick, yer’ not getting past the Carnies. I’ll do everything in my power to see that through. I’d do anything for these Carnies, and I could care less if they appreciated it or not, Dick. That was when I knew you weren’t going to be able to beat us, the moment you scoffed at the idea of me repping my squad.

Naturally...

You laughed at me being dedicated and loyal to seeing this process through. Saying I’ve got too much potential to waste my time with them? Eat shit. It ain’t about me. I’ll throw myself in harm's way, I’ll take the fall, I’ll burn every ounce of my energy, my ability, my sanity, and my body to see to it that Charlie’s Carnies wins War Games, with, or without Dolly Waters. I’ve already killed myself for this team in more ways than one. I’m willing to risk everything for them, because that’s the kind of person I am.

The only reason there’s a difference between us, Dick. A difference between us and the entire War Games field is that we confronted and destroyed our egos, and we did it as a team…Now we’ve got nothing to lose. We don’t need to mask ourselves with hypocrisy and a pretty face to go to war. Other than that we’re exactly the same, except I know the worst of Dolly Waters, and it’s the same bad elements that’s in each and every one of you. I know thy enemy because I am thy enemy, and I’m not scared to admit that. WE’RE not scared to say aloud, the truth you all whisper to yourselves:

That we’re all just stars in the dope show.

I couldn’t have said it better myself, baby.

The spotlight shines down on Charlie once more as sets his gleeful gaze on his carnies. A look of psychotic adoration overtakes him as he wipes a bit of mist from his eyelids. Outside of the tent, the air locks pop on a vintage tin covered greyhound bus. The sound brings a glowing smile to The Ringmaster's face as he turns back to address the audience.

Ladies and gentlemen… It’s time for Charlie’s Carnies to take the dope show on the road. Next stop! Bethel Woods, New York for a little war, and a lot of games.

Get your tickets now and see this spectacle before you in all it’s deranged might!

Oh, but before I go….can one of you fine folks in the audience deliver a message to little Dicky Pee for me?

I have his mojo. It’s on the tip of my cock. He can slurp it up after I’m done putting the spirit of a great wrestler inside of Geri Vayden.

The camera zooms in on Charlie’s face. He gives the audience a sly wink before the feed cuts out.



]]> <![CDATA[Heart of Darkness - Finale]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41538 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 23:58:09 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41538

A bright light overhead shines down upon a steel table surrounded by four chairs, all bolted to the floor. Dixon and Chaos take a seat on either end.

”We’re coming to the end,” Doc says while offering me a seat. We sit opposite ends with Dixon and Chaos sitting at our sides. Is there anything else you gentlemen would like to express before so?

Doc motions towards Andre first…. Who manages to pull his view from the ground and meet Doc’s eye…

Well, War Games is right around the corner and Team B.o.B. is re….oops sorry. I guess I got a little confused since everyone and their mother is telling me that your boy is a part of team B.o.B. and not Team Discontinuum. It’s pretty much all I’ve heard for the last two weeks. How I’m going to fuck over my team and help B.o.B. win this thing. And if I don’t? Well if I don’t then I’ll be kicked out of B.o.B. Can you believe it? I guess I have to believe it because that’s what everyone on the other team keeps telling me.

Then again why would I listen to some unloyal little bitches like Corey Smith and Alias? These guys are supposed to be going head to head but instead they're just jerking each other off relentlessly. North Korean War Criminal is just regurgitating the same shit he’s hearing about B.o.B. and how I’m fighting for two teams. Even though I’ve repeatedly said where my priorities lie. Everyone seems to think Thad is sweating it and constantly looking over his shoulder to see if I’m going to turn on him. Here’s a spoiler for you guys: I’m not. As much respect as I have for my brothers in B.o.B. I know that I am on the BEST War Games team.

Who is there to really worry about? B.o.B.? Nah without me turning on my team to help them they have no shot, right? Estradas Angels? Well...they lost one of the best angels and replaced them with a guy who used to call himself Fuzz. Wow, we are scared. Plus even if they were a decent team their leader is fuckin’ Reggie Estrada. Ain’t nobody scared of them. Charlies Carnies? Nobodies worried about those freaks. A clown is a clown no matter what circus you go to.

Our only real challenge is in the first round against Team Dickriders and let’s be honest their a two man team. Nobody is worried about North Korean War Criminal and nobody has EVER worried about average ass Centurion and his generic ass trash talk which is the same as the rest of his team had to say.

The truth is there isn’t a single team with the amount of talent that we collectively have. We could run through every single team one by one and not lose a single member of our team if we really had to. We have everything a TEAM needs from great leadership to great soldiers. I’m ready to take some heads off. What about you Chaos?

Chaos shuffles around uncomfortably in the seat… He, too, glances up around his team and sits up with a determined look about him.

"I just don't give a fuck anymore. I am done trying to be something I am not. I am worn out, and I have tainted my career trying to be something that I never was. I came in this place, and I was an asshole. I didn't play well with others. I didn't care about feelings, I didn't care about opinions. I was here for titles like a stripper is there for dollars. I was here to burn it down and walk over the ashes.

Then.....well......I started to feel things. I started to like some of you fuckers a little bit. I started to hate what I was, and I wanted to be your friend.

I just almost gagged saying that, I can still taste the bile.

I wanted you all to like me and I....oh my god here it comes again......

*gags*

valued your opinions.

I mean, what the fuck is wrong with me? During this process, I got soft. I began to loathe the one thing that made me successful here....myself. I am who I am, and if you don't like it you can gargle monkey semen and enjoy it. Literally hang yourself with the drawstring from a bag of dicks.

I haven't been truly happy here in years, but its not because of anything to do with poisoning from outside sources, from a lack of talent, from wins and losses....it was giving you all too much credit. It was for looking at all of you as human beings and not complete wastes of fucking time and space. It was from wanting to be a normal social person who actually.....*shudders*, got along with my co-workers.

No more. I am sick of sitting around and watching the Shawn Warsteins, the Centurions, the Robert Main's having ego's the size of Mars, self-entitled pricks whose only object in life is to make others feel as small as possible......and not being part of it. I am sick of fighting for approval, and seeking the one thing I will never get here........

Un-earned respect.

They never have and never will like me, but they damn sure respected me. Where has that gone? Out the fucking window with the rest of the litter. Why? Because I wanted "friends." I wanted to be liked by others because I hated myself.

I hate all of you a lot more than I hate myself, and its about time I nut up or shut up.

I mean, why would I care what guys like Corey think? Guys like Corey Smith don’t matter to me, never have. Hell, I do a better job getting under their skin than anyone else. I love it, I thrive on it. Corey, You already look like one of those socialites who drinks boxed water and gets waiters fired, what else could I possibly do to make you look any worse than you already make yourself look? It’s like if that waffle girl and that sickly kid from stranger things mutated into each other. Eeek. Not a good image, Cor.

We open with you, and many people think we drew a bad hand. That perhaps Dock, Thad, Andre and I have the hardest road to winning this little shindig. Perhaps we do.

I say good.

For too long I have been ducking competition, asking for title shots and favors that I didn’t earn and don’t deserve. It is time I begin to do the only thing I was ever truly good at here…..

Not giving a fuck, and fucking dominating. Thad showed me how much of a pile of mush I have become, and I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to believe that was really me. BUT, it was.

Key word, was.

Because the Chris Chaos you all remember just kicked the fucking door down, and is about to tie up your children and go to town on your wife. Then put a gun to their heads and make you choose the one that lives.

The XWF is very much like the hollow moon hypothesis, it has a substantial amount of extremely empty and very dense interior space. Just look at Charlie and his band of circus freaks. Look at the team of Dick and Dolly, with Caedus and Geri….Jesus that just screams hillbilly incest and moonshine fisting. Dolly is a little slut who has never been able to live up to the hype, Jim Caedus proved in his comeback that his time has long since passed, Dick Powers is a gimmick and Geri Vayden only gained success in this business because she took a now obsolete and meritless title off a loud mouthed cunt with a god complex. Is this really a team I would fear? 5 years ago, I would have spit in all of their faces at the same time and and kicked all four of them in the nuts.

Yes, I said it.

And Estrada’s Angels? That’s cute. They probably want to get paid the same for this event too, don’t they? But its fitting that Atara flaked, it is kind of her MO. But of course, boo thing swoops in and picks up the slack. Warstein is always there to clean up the mess. He is like the XWF’s resident abortion doctor. And B.O.B, the wanna be super villains who get more out of comedy than they do actually accomplishing anything worth writing home about? Please. I was around for AX3. APEX, The KINGS…..B.O.B is nothing but a gang of trolls who make Vinnie money so they are allowed to continue existing.

So fuck your feelings, fuck your opinions and fuck your faces. I am back in a DAMN big way and win loss or draw I am coming to War Games to maim and mangle. The XWF won’t be the same after tomorrow night.”

Doc smiles and looks over to Thaddeus who remains quiet… Staring down at the gauntlet which has been bound to him….

Corey will forever be the thrower of stones at glass houses. His constant false claims, his slander of my intentions… His non-stop whining about my methods… Tell us, please, when has the bottom ever fallen out? When have my methods, whether they be of madness in your eyes or not, failed? Straight up bit me right in the ass and cost me everything! Oh, never? I don’t mean taking a fall or not being the one to win a race to a case, either. I mean straight up blew up in my face.

While ya’ll look back and both you and Alias conveniently pick your spots… I’ll wait… I know the only reason I became King is because… Oh… You guys just didn’t want to, right? Laughing Out Loud. It’s only funny because that’s close to the same line I give Worstein and Main when they start going off on how great they were when no one was around to present a legitimate challenge. And I say that very, VERY loosely. When I say challenge I mean, well, put up a fight I guess. Something as simple as that. You chose not to involve yourselves in March Madness because, much like right now, your knees are weak… The bellies grumble… And you can’t predict the outcome. Alias talks about the force that was behind him BEFORE he won the title and I had a similar force behind me when I was climbing my own mountain. Well, another mountain formed beside the one I just scaled and guess what…. Ya’ll know I’m one HELL of a climber.

Now, I would never put this passed Corey. The guy has proven he will do anything to get what he wants… I’ve personally seen the guy run out of options and ideas and literally do whatever it takes to get his way.
But Alias?

Are we seriously talking about colors? That’s “colors” with a “U”, by the way! I don’t want to look stupid if the subtitles come out mispelled or something. Adjust your television, asshole.

Alias, beating me at May Day is what made you what you are today. It has given you this same aura that you and Corey both are basking bathing together in. It wasn’t the Xtreme Title reign. It wasn’t even the Universal Title. It was May Day. Do you know why I say this and I’ve stressed so much about it?! Because what you thought was over has just begun. Surely your “saga” with the Left Hand went on and on and built you up to be this “Vampire Club Killing Machine”... Thanks, I guess? I had a few “Left Hands” myself back in the day, too! Apex…. AxE… They were kind of the same thing, but not. Basically, just another group of assholes that think they were much further above what they really were. In fact, at least those groups had some significant members…. Caedus… Main… I forget the rest, to be honest. Just another group that thought they had way more traction than they actually did only to be STOPPED dead in their tracks by you know who. Beating you all at War Games may not do it… But just as that nonsense about May Day made you what you are…. You and I will most definitely catch up again soon and erase you just as quick as you *POOFED* into all of our lives.
With the mention of a *POOF*, DOCK snapped his gauntlet and bam!
*POOF*

Did someone say….

NO!!!

DOCK clicks his fingers a few times more and Cadryn Tiberius comes and goes off and on until DOCK manages to beat the glitch and finally *POOF* him away again. DOCK looks around the table to all of his foes friends and takes a deep breath.

Beyond this team of FUCKTHAD’s…. In the finale… I already anticipate the two teams that will surely advance with us. I will say, there is no way that Worstein is going to save Reggie’s Angels from BoB. I mean, it’s elementary, gentlemen. We all know BoB was going to come in with their shit already packed nicely into little packages, together, as one. We knew that. But as I said before, it’s just BoB. The same BoB that thrives on being the Wish.com version of a threatening group. Yeah, you can get some good shit out of ‘em… But it ain’t exactly what was pictured, right?

Now, who else we got? Oh! Jim Caedus versus Robert Main. Isn’t that a funny scenario? Isn’t Robert Main the one that brought Jimmy back in the first place? If they don’t kill each other before I get there then so be it…. I’ve always looked at both of them as the opposite ends of the same joke so… ya know… More misplaced arrogance and pride without DOCK validation. Who else is there? Oh…. Poor, poor Dolly, right? Did both of your boys leave you out of the mix and leave you to get picked up by….. Ew….. The mud under my boot? Oh no, that’s just Charlie Nickles.

I’ll be honest, men, I am not concerned beyond our first bout against Corey and Alias. Concerned probably isn’t the right word, but what I mean is…. Threatened? Uh, no. I dunno. I feel that our “random” draw to face the Universal Champion and a potential one is basically, already, the main attraction of the evening. When we get past them, it will be smooth sailing past ANYTHING that BoB or Charlie’s Carnies… Or Dickpockolypto or Reggie’s Angels could come close to imagining as a solid run.

Just look around this table…. Three former Universal Champions and someone part of a legacy surrounded by the same gold. Look beyond what we have before us and I see nothing but rubble making up the same stone that we’ve crushed and sanded down into nothing over our time here…. Chris Chaos, a former champion. Much like Alias, you got one over the Doc a long time ago…. And what did it do?

Chaos says nothing and holds a stone cold face about it.

You went straight to the top of this XWF and, short of dominating, were the top guy for quite some time…. Everyone can say what they want, but War Games will prove that with a little added spice you can still be the same wrecking machine you were all of those years ago. Do what Corey didn’t and just believe in the fact that if you want to follow us, Duke and I are leaving War Games together in the very end as victors.

Charlie Nickles, Robert Main, Dolly Waters, Dick Powers, Jim Caedus, Bobby Bourbon, Thunder Knuckles…. After we dismantle, destroy, burn not eat, gross the first team we go up against that fine evening…. You can bet ALL of your asses what’s coming for you next. Just like High Stakes. Just like March Madness. The same fellows always seem to be hanging around the top…. And I know I’m ready to take an entire roster of the best we have and show them exactly where their place is….

”Think you’re ready?” he asks.

Sitting quietly for a moment, eyeballing the gauntlet that has slowly felt more like a natural part of my body and less like a heavy accessory. Looking around at the team I have assembled, my eyes settle on D’Ville. Pausing in thought, I remember back when Doc showed me the mirror. When he showed me the teenage version of myself staring back at me. I remember the anger and the frustration. I remember not wanting to be that guy.
Some might say that I’ve always been that guy, that I’ve always been evil… just dressed nice and flashing a fake smile. Being willing to do evil and being capable of doing evil are two different things. I’m not willing to do bad things for the sake of doing bad things. I am, however, very capable of doing very bad things any time it pleases me to do it.

”Yes,” I finally answer.

D’Ville grins slightly and leans forward. Grabbing the gauntlet, he tugs but it doesn’t budge. ”Forgive me Young Duke, but I have my doubts.”

”Stop calling me that,” I insist. ”You know I don’t like it.”

”Why is that?” he asks.

”Duke is my father,” I begin. ”I’m not him. I’m Thaddeus.”

”I once questioned your friend similarly,” Doc begins. ”He needed help in being truthful. Do you need the same?”

”No,” I answer emphatically.

D’Ville leans back and grins. ”You’re certain?”

”I’ve always just been me. Like me, love me, hate me… I am who I am,” I begin to answer him.

”Yet I can’t help but feel a pent up rage, frustration from you.”

I shrug in response. ”Just because I might not say it out loud, doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking and why.”

”Let’s begin,” he says, I nod. ”As it pertains to the boy in question...”

”Corey,” I interrupt him. ”He has a name, Louis. Use it.”

Doc again grins. ”How do you feel about him right now?”

Considering a moment, ”That his loyalty to me is questionable at best,” I answer.

”Why?”

”I was there for him after his stroke when no one else was. I helped him get better, I helped him become what he is today. I’m not taking credit for him...”

”Shouldn’t you though?” Doc interrupts.

”...but it hurts, that he so easily casts me aside to befriend a man that so openly wishes death on his quote unquote best friend.

“And no Doc, I shouldn’t take credit for him being what he is. I helped him sure, but he did the work.”

”It’s not so different than him claiming to have made you Universal Champion is it?”

”You did the same,” I remind him. ”Everyone tries to latch onto the freight train that is Thaddeus Duke and claim to be the engineer.”

”Why does it bother you?”

”I fucking despise excuses,” I answer quickly. ”I don’t make excuses when I fail and I damn sure don’t like others making excuses when I succeed. It’s lazy. It’s not creative. And it’s altogether bullshit.”

”You hear the rumblings,” he begins a new line of questioning. ”I've fed into them myself and watched opponent after opponent of yours take the bait. They all say I carried you, that Corey carried you. What'd it feel like to be the first person to beat that little shit in over two years?”

Looking down at the table in thought a moment, ”It feels like… Vindication.”

”Why vindication?”

”For months people said I was the weak link in Continuum despite the fact that I just keep fucking winning,” I begin. ”Doc this, Corey that and Thaddeus was the weak one. Thaddeus was the one playing second or third fiddle to both of you in the minds of everyone else. They figuratively deep throated his dick for months because the perception was that he couldn’t be beat and I could.

“Everyone can be beat… Me… You… Corey… Alias.”

“How did it feel to kick that snot nosed little punk in his face?”

I sit quietly for a few minutes, ”Elated. Overjoyed. Insert adjective here.”

”Why?”

”I like reality checks,” I answer him. ”People discount me all the time, I’m used to that. I take pleasure in beating those that think they’re invincible. I take joy in people projecting their insecurities onto me… then showing everyone that they’re wrong.

“Almost chose Alias first… just to fuck him.”

”But you didn’t,” D’Ville interjects. ”Why’d you give him what he wanted?”

Sitting there, I lean forward a bit and retrieve a folded up piece of paper from my back pocket. Laying it on the table, I unfold it then slide it across the table toward D’Ville.

[Image: foo7Lsc.png]


At once, the gauntlet releases itself from my arm. Like a critter or bug, it scuttles across the table and hops onto the gauntlet still intact on DOCK's arm and molds into it.

”I gave him what he wanted Doc,” I say with a pause. ”To see just how weak his mind really is. No passengers?” I ask with a scoff. ”No Lux, no Engineer maybe… still debatable… But he allowed Alias to pervert his mind, pervert his thinking. FUCKTHAD?” I laugh. ”Now that’s true friendship.”

”Thad,” comes Corey’s voice from somewhere behind me. I turn to see him on his knees, still dressed in his fatigues. Standing from the chair I make my way to him. Looking down at him:

I want to thank you Corey… for slowly opening my eyes. It’ll be easy for you, even tempting for you, to sit upon the pedestal in which you placed yourself and blame D’Ville for what’s happening now but the truth is all he ever did was try and show me the real you. I resisted for a long time because maybe I just didn’t want to see it, to believe it.

You latched onto my coattails starting at High Stakes and you never really let go did you? Yeah we worked together to help each other out in that battle royal and I’m positive at the time, that either of us would have sacrificed ourselves for the other.

But how things change, Corey.

Riding my big dick energy for months to reclaim your stardom that… let’s be perfectly honest you never really earned, did you? It was your body but Lux was the star. It was your body and the Engineer was the star. Even today… it’s your body, but I’m the star and you just haven’t accepted it. Others see it now though don’t they?

It’s funny to me when I stop and think about it. Starting at High Stakes all the way up to and through the Captains Match on Savage you were riding my dick. You tried hard to be Thaddeus Duke but you couldn’t quite live up to such lofty expectations. You see me accomplish big things and you wish it was you. You follow in my footsteps like a lost little puppy dog.

Case in point: we lose the tag belts and I move on to claiming something I never held, the only thing I never held and that was the Hart title. Not to be outdone, you tried real hard to be the Savage version of me by becoming the Television Champion and in your first major defense… you drop the ball.

We are not the same.

Your first shot in this War Games contest was berating management for throwing FUCKTHAD and DisContinuum together right out of the gate. You didn’t want it. You know who your betters are Corey, and at least two of those betters will be staring across from you at War Games. You didn’t want it because the embarrassment of getting bounced in the first round is too much for your fragile little ego to handle.

I continue to make circles around this manifestation of Corey Smith.

I, on the other hand, am absolutely fucking ecstatic. DisContinuum couldn’t be happier than to eliminate the Universal Champion and his number one pretender from the equation right out of the gate. I wanted this match so bad I damn near did something I never do. I almost went to my uncle to lobby for it, to make it happen. When I told Doc what I wanted he sat in thought for a minute, No, he urged me. Que sera, sera.

We’ll be okay though, right Cor’?

Leaning down to look manifested Corey in the face and adopting a mocking tone for a moment, Mommy and Daddy are fighting but we’ll be fine…

Well mommy, tell the kids Daddy wants a divorce.

I resume pacing circles around “Corey” and drop the mocking voice.

Alias, you backed the wrong fucking horse and I hope you’re paying attention. I’ve never hidden who I am and you think you have this insight into me that no one else can see? Don’t be ridiculous. Corey says its all about you. He said the same things about me going into High Stakes and Doc was right… he had a dagger pointed at my side the whole time that my love for him blinded me from seeing.

I see it now.

If you don’t think he’s got the same thing in mind for you… you’re sadly mistaken.

Speaking of Alias, Corey says he’s unstoppable and doesn’t know what fuels him.

Again, I lean down and stare “Corey” in the eyes.

It’s HATE you fucking idiot! Hate for me is what fuels him! He spent months quoting me in his promos. He isn’t stupid, he knows what works and he watches me to see what works and that entirely explains his eveloution into the arrogant asshole he’s becoming – because I’ve lived in his head since November. And now Corey, I live in yours too.

Why loyalty to Doc?

He didn’t have to help me. I was getting my ass handed to me by Cataclysm and I was fully prepared to go it alone at High Stakes against them if I needed to. Dolly wasn’t back yet. Corey, you were promoing for the battle royal but you couldn’t be bothered to help out his friend in need when you knew full well I’d been embroiled in a rivalry with Chris Page and by extension, Robert Main. If the shoes were on the other feet… I’d have rolled my ass to the ring in a wheelchair if I needed to in order to help you.

We are not the same.

Doc helped.

And with Doc at my side... I look over at Doc, still sitting at the table. We conquered the Universe.

I have a problem with you Corey, suggesting that I thought I needed you. That I somehow couldn’t function, couldn’t be the best without you. Let’s not confuse the terminology. Let’s not confuse needing and wanting. Did I want you by my side? Did I want to share my successes as well as my failures with you? Absolutely I did.

Did I need you? Did I need you to become Universal Champion? To become Tag champion? To be… me?

Nah man. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now. Looking at our recent track records… I think it’s pretty evident, that it’s you that needed me.

Pulling the Luger from my holster I put the barrel against “Corey’s” temple and pull the trigger with a loud pop. Blood and brain matter exit the far side of his head as he falls lifeless.

Continuum, Corey.

But no more passengers.]]>

A bright light overhead shines down upon a steel table surrounded by four chairs, all bolted to the floor. Dixon and Chaos take a seat on either end.

”We’re coming to the end,” Doc says while offering me a seat. We sit opposite ends with Dixon and Chaos sitting at our sides. Is there anything else you gentlemen would like to express before so?

Doc motions towards Andre first…. Who manages to pull his view from the ground and meet Doc’s eye…

Well, War Games is right around the corner and Team B.o.B. is re….oops sorry. I guess I got a little confused since everyone and their mother is telling me that your boy is a part of team B.o.B. and not Team Discontinuum. It’s pretty much all I’ve heard for the last two weeks. How I’m going to fuck over my team and help B.o.B. win this thing. And if I don’t? Well if I don’t then I’ll be kicked out of B.o.B. Can you believe it? I guess I have to believe it because that’s what everyone on the other team keeps telling me.

Then again why would I listen to some unloyal little bitches like Corey Smith and Alias? These guys are supposed to be going head to head but instead they're just jerking each other off relentlessly. North Korean War Criminal is just regurgitating the same shit he’s hearing about B.o.B. and how I’m fighting for two teams. Even though I’ve repeatedly said where my priorities lie. Everyone seems to think Thad is sweating it and constantly looking over his shoulder to see if I’m going to turn on him. Here’s a spoiler for you guys: I’m not. As much respect as I have for my brothers in B.o.B. I know that I am on the BEST War Games team.

Who is there to really worry about? B.o.B.? Nah without me turning on my team to help them they have no shot, right? Estradas Angels? Well...they lost one of the best angels and replaced them with a guy who used to call himself Fuzz. Wow, we are scared. Plus even if they were a decent team their leader is fuckin’ Reggie Estrada. Ain’t nobody scared of them. Charlies Carnies? Nobodies worried about those freaks. A clown is a clown no matter what circus you go to.

Our only real challenge is in the first round against Team Dickriders and let’s be honest their a two man team. Nobody is worried about North Korean War Criminal and nobody has EVER worried about average ass Centurion and his generic ass trash talk which is the same as the rest of his team had to say.

The truth is there isn’t a single team with the amount of talent that we collectively have. We could run through every single team one by one and not lose a single member of our team if we really had to. We have everything a TEAM needs from great leadership to great soldiers. I’m ready to take some heads off. What about you Chaos?

Chaos shuffles around uncomfortably in the seat… He, too, glances up around his team and sits up with a determined look about him.

"I just don't give a fuck anymore. I am done trying to be something I am not. I am worn out, and I have tainted my career trying to be something that I never was. I came in this place, and I was an asshole. I didn't play well with others. I didn't care about feelings, I didn't care about opinions. I was here for titles like a stripper is there for dollars. I was here to burn it down and walk over the ashes.

Then.....well......I started to feel things. I started to like some of you fuckers a little bit. I started to hate what I was, and I wanted to be your friend.

I just almost gagged saying that, I can still taste the bile.

I wanted you all to like me and I....oh my god here it comes again......

*gags*

valued your opinions.

I mean, what the fuck is wrong with me? During this process, I got soft. I began to loathe the one thing that made me successful here....myself. I am who I am, and if you don't like it you can gargle monkey semen and enjoy it. Literally hang yourself with the drawstring from a bag of dicks.

I haven't been truly happy here in years, but its not because of anything to do with poisoning from outside sources, from a lack of talent, from wins and losses....it was giving you all too much credit. It was for looking at all of you as human beings and not complete wastes of fucking time and space. It was from wanting to be a normal social person who actually.....*shudders*, got along with my co-workers.

No more. I am sick of sitting around and watching the Shawn Warsteins, the Centurions, the Robert Main's having ego's the size of Mars, self-entitled pricks whose only object in life is to make others feel as small as possible......and not being part of it. I am sick of fighting for approval, and seeking the one thing I will never get here........

Un-earned respect.

They never have and never will like me, but they damn sure respected me. Where has that gone? Out the fucking window with the rest of the litter. Why? Because I wanted "friends." I wanted to be liked by others because I hated myself.

I hate all of you a lot more than I hate myself, and its about time I nut up or shut up.

I mean, why would I care what guys like Corey think? Guys like Corey Smith don’t matter to me, never have. Hell, I do a better job getting under their skin than anyone else. I love it, I thrive on it. Corey, You already look like one of those socialites who drinks boxed water and gets waiters fired, what else could I possibly do to make you look any worse than you already make yourself look? It’s like if that waffle girl and that sickly kid from stranger things mutated into each other. Eeek. Not a good image, Cor.

We open with you, and many people think we drew a bad hand. That perhaps Dock, Thad, Andre and I have the hardest road to winning this little shindig. Perhaps we do.

I say good.

For too long I have been ducking competition, asking for title shots and favors that I didn’t earn and don’t deserve. It is time I begin to do the only thing I was ever truly good at here…..

Not giving a fuck, and fucking dominating. Thad showed me how much of a pile of mush I have become, and I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to believe that was really me. BUT, it was.

Key word, was.

Because the Chris Chaos you all remember just kicked the fucking door down, and is about to tie up your children and go to town on your wife. Then put a gun to their heads and make you choose the one that lives.

The XWF is very much like the hollow moon hypothesis, it has a substantial amount of extremely empty and very dense interior space. Just look at Charlie and his band of circus freaks. Look at the team of Dick and Dolly, with Caedus and Geri….Jesus that just screams hillbilly incest and moonshine fisting. Dolly is a little slut who has never been able to live up to the hype, Jim Caedus proved in his comeback that his time has long since passed, Dick Powers is a gimmick and Geri Vayden only gained success in this business because she took a now obsolete and meritless title off a loud mouthed cunt with a god complex. Is this really a team I would fear? 5 years ago, I would have spit in all of their faces at the same time and and kicked all four of them in the nuts.

Yes, I said it.

And Estrada’s Angels? That’s cute. They probably want to get paid the same for this event too, don’t they? But its fitting that Atara flaked, it is kind of her MO. But of course, boo thing swoops in and picks up the slack. Warstein is always there to clean up the mess. He is like the XWF’s resident abortion doctor. And B.O.B, the wanna be super villains who get more out of comedy than they do actually accomplishing anything worth writing home about? Please. I was around for AX3. APEX, The KINGS…..B.O.B is nothing but a gang of trolls who make Vinnie money so they are allowed to continue existing.

So fuck your feelings, fuck your opinions and fuck your faces. I am back in a DAMN big way and win loss or draw I am coming to War Games to maim and mangle. The XWF won’t be the same after tomorrow night.”

Doc smiles and looks over to Thaddeus who remains quiet… Staring down at the gauntlet which has been bound to him….

Corey will forever be the thrower of stones at glass houses. His constant false claims, his slander of my intentions… His non-stop whining about my methods… Tell us, please, when has the bottom ever fallen out? When have my methods, whether they be of madness in your eyes or not, failed? Straight up bit me right in the ass and cost me everything! Oh, never? I don’t mean taking a fall or not being the one to win a race to a case, either. I mean straight up blew up in my face.

While ya’ll look back and both you and Alias conveniently pick your spots… I’ll wait… I know the only reason I became King is because… Oh… You guys just didn’t want to, right? Laughing Out Loud. It’s only funny because that’s close to the same line I give Worstein and Main when they start going off on how great they were when no one was around to present a legitimate challenge. And I say that very, VERY loosely. When I say challenge I mean, well, put up a fight I guess. Something as simple as that. You chose not to involve yourselves in March Madness because, much like right now, your knees are weak… The bellies grumble… And you can’t predict the outcome. Alias talks about the force that was behind him BEFORE he won the title and I had a similar force behind me when I was climbing my own mountain. Well, another mountain formed beside the one I just scaled and guess what…. Ya’ll know I’m one HELL of a climber.

Now, I would never put this passed Corey. The guy has proven he will do anything to get what he wants… I’ve personally seen the guy run out of options and ideas and literally do whatever it takes to get his way.
But Alias?

Are we seriously talking about colors? That’s “colors” with a “U”, by the way! I don’t want to look stupid if the subtitles come out mispelled or something. Adjust your television, asshole.

Alias, beating me at May Day is what made you what you are today. It has given you this same aura that you and Corey both are basking bathing together in. It wasn’t the Xtreme Title reign. It wasn’t even the Universal Title. It was May Day. Do you know why I say this and I’ve stressed so much about it?! Because what you thought was over has just begun. Surely your “saga” with the Left Hand went on and on and built you up to be this “Vampire Club Killing Machine”... Thanks, I guess? I had a few “Left Hands” myself back in the day, too! Apex…. AxE… They were kind of the same thing, but not. Basically, just another group of assholes that think they were much further above what they really were. In fact, at least those groups had some significant members…. Caedus… Main… I forget the rest, to be honest. Just another group that thought they had way more traction than they actually did only to be STOPPED dead in their tracks by you know who. Beating you all at War Games may not do it… But just as that nonsense about May Day made you what you are…. You and I will most definitely catch up again soon and erase you just as quick as you *POOFED* into all of our lives.
With the mention of a *POOF*, DOCK snapped his gauntlet and bam!
*POOF*

Did someone say….

NO!!!

DOCK clicks his fingers a few times more and Cadryn Tiberius comes and goes off and on until DOCK manages to beat the glitch and finally *POOF* him away again. DOCK looks around the table to all of his foes friends and takes a deep breath.

Beyond this team of FUCKTHAD’s…. In the finale… I already anticipate the two teams that will surely advance with us. I will say, there is no way that Worstein is going to save Reggie’s Angels from BoB. I mean, it’s elementary, gentlemen. We all know BoB was going to come in with their shit already packed nicely into little packages, together, as one. We knew that. But as I said before, it’s just BoB. The same BoB that thrives on being the Wish.com version of a threatening group. Yeah, you can get some good shit out of ‘em… But it ain’t exactly what was pictured, right?

Now, who else we got? Oh! Jim Caedus versus Robert Main. Isn’t that a funny scenario? Isn’t Robert Main the one that brought Jimmy back in the first place? If they don’t kill each other before I get there then so be it…. I’ve always looked at both of them as the opposite ends of the same joke so… ya know… More misplaced arrogance and pride without DOCK validation. Who else is there? Oh…. Poor, poor Dolly, right? Did both of your boys leave you out of the mix and leave you to get picked up by….. Ew….. The mud under my boot? Oh no, that’s just Charlie Nickles.

I’ll be honest, men, I am not concerned beyond our first bout against Corey and Alias. Concerned probably isn’t the right word, but what I mean is…. Threatened? Uh, no. I dunno. I feel that our “random” draw to face the Universal Champion and a potential one is basically, already, the main attraction of the evening. When we get past them, it will be smooth sailing past ANYTHING that BoB or Charlie’s Carnies… Or Dickpockolypto or Reggie’s Angels could come close to imagining as a solid run.

Just look around this table…. Three former Universal Champions and someone part of a legacy surrounded by the same gold. Look beyond what we have before us and I see nothing but rubble making up the same stone that we’ve crushed and sanded down into nothing over our time here…. Chris Chaos, a former champion. Much like Alias, you got one over the Doc a long time ago…. And what did it do?

Chaos says nothing and holds a stone cold face about it.

You went straight to the top of this XWF and, short of dominating, were the top guy for quite some time…. Everyone can say what they want, but War Games will prove that with a little added spice you can still be the same wrecking machine you were all of those years ago. Do what Corey didn’t and just believe in the fact that if you want to follow us, Duke and I are leaving War Games together in the very end as victors.

Charlie Nickles, Robert Main, Dolly Waters, Dick Powers, Jim Caedus, Bobby Bourbon, Thunder Knuckles…. After we dismantle, destroy, burn not eat, gross the first team we go up against that fine evening…. You can bet ALL of your asses what’s coming for you next. Just like High Stakes. Just like March Madness. The same fellows always seem to be hanging around the top…. And I know I’m ready to take an entire roster of the best we have and show them exactly where their place is….

”Think you’re ready?” he asks.

Sitting quietly for a moment, eyeballing the gauntlet that has slowly felt more like a natural part of my body and less like a heavy accessory. Looking around at the team I have assembled, my eyes settle on D’Ville. Pausing in thought, I remember back when Doc showed me the mirror. When he showed me the teenage version of myself staring back at me. I remember the anger and the frustration. I remember not wanting to be that guy.
Some might say that I’ve always been that guy, that I’ve always been evil… just dressed nice and flashing a fake smile. Being willing to do evil and being capable of doing evil are two different things. I’m not willing to do bad things for the sake of doing bad things. I am, however, very capable of doing very bad things any time it pleases me to do it.

”Yes,” I finally answer.

D’Ville grins slightly and leans forward. Grabbing the gauntlet, he tugs but it doesn’t budge. ”Forgive me Young Duke, but I have my doubts.”

”Stop calling me that,” I insist. ”You know I don’t like it.”

”Why is that?” he asks.

”Duke is my father,” I begin. ”I’m not him. I’m Thaddeus.”

”I once questioned your friend similarly,” Doc begins. ”He needed help in being truthful. Do you need the same?”

”No,” I answer emphatically.

D’Ville leans back and grins. ”You’re certain?”

”I’ve always just been me. Like me, love me, hate me… I am who I am,” I begin to answer him.

”Yet I can’t help but feel a pent up rage, frustration from you.”

I shrug in response. ”Just because I might not say it out loud, doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking and why.”

”Let’s begin,” he says, I nod. ”As it pertains to the boy in question...”

”Corey,” I interrupt him. ”He has a name, Louis. Use it.”

Doc again grins. ”How do you feel about him right now?”

Considering a moment, ”That his loyalty to me is questionable at best,” I answer.

”Why?”

”I was there for him after his stroke when no one else was. I helped him get better, I helped him become what he is today. I’m not taking credit for him...”

”Shouldn’t you though?” Doc interrupts.

”...but it hurts, that he so easily casts me aside to befriend a man that so openly wishes death on his quote unquote best friend.

“And no Doc, I shouldn’t take credit for him being what he is. I helped him sure, but he did the work.”

”It’s not so different than him claiming to have made you Universal Champion is it?”

”You did the same,” I remind him. ”Everyone tries to latch onto the freight train that is Thaddeus Duke and claim to be the engineer.”

”Why does it bother you?”

”I fucking despise excuses,” I answer quickly. ”I don’t make excuses when I fail and I damn sure don’t like others making excuses when I succeed. It’s lazy. It’s not creative. And it’s altogether bullshit.”

”You hear the rumblings,” he begins a new line of questioning. ”I've fed into them myself and watched opponent after opponent of yours take the bait. They all say I carried you, that Corey carried you. What'd it feel like to be the first person to beat that little shit in over two years?”

Looking down at the table in thought a moment, ”It feels like… Vindication.”

”Why vindication?”

”For months people said I was the weak link in Continuum despite the fact that I just keep fucking winning,” I begin. ”Doc this, Corey that and Thaddeus was the weak one. Thaddeus was the one playing second or third fiddle to both of you in the minds of everyone else. They figuratively deep throated his dick for months because the perception was that he couldn’t be beat and I could.

“Everyone can be beat… Me… You… Corey… Alias.”

“How did it feel to kick that snot nosed little punk in his face?”

I sit quietly for a few minutes, ”Elated. Overjoyed. Insert adjective here.”

”Why?”

”I like reality checks,” I answer him. ”People discount me all the time, I’m used to that. I take pleasure in beating those that think they’re invincible. I take joy in people projecting their insecurities onto me… then showing everyone that they’re wrong.

“Almost chose Alias first… just to fuck him.”

”But you didn’t,” D’Ville interjects. ”Why’d you give him what he wanted?”

Sitting there, I lean forward a bit and retrieve a folded up piece of paper from my back pocket. Laying it on the table, I unfold it then slide it across the table toward D’Ville.

[Image: foo7Lsc.png]


At once, the gauntlet releases itself from my arm. Like a critter or bug, it scuttles across the table and hops onto the gauntlet still intact on DOCK's arm and molds into it.

”I gave him what he wanted Doc,” I say with a pause. ”To see just how weak his mind really is. No passengers?” I ask with a scoff. ”No Lux, no Engineer maybe… still debatable… But he allowed Alias to pervert his mind, pervert his thinking. FUCKTHAD?” I laugh. ”Now that’s true friendship.”

”Thad,” comes Corey’s voice from somewhere behind me. I turn to see him on his knees, still dressed in his fatigues. Standing from the chair I make my way to him. Looking down at him:

I want to thank you Corey… for slowly opening my eyes. It’ll be easy for you, even tempting for you, to sit upon the pedestal in which you placed yourself and blame D’Ville for what’s happening now but the truth is all he ever did was try and show me the real you. I resisted for a long time because maybe I just didn’t want to see it, to believe it.

You latched onto my coattails starting at High Stakes and you never really let go did you? Yeah we worked together to help each other out in that battle royal and I’m positive at the time, that either of us would have sacrificed ourselves for the other.

But how things change, Corey.

Riding my big dick energy for months to reclaim your stardom that… let’s be perfectly honest you never really earned, did you? It was your body but Lux was the star. It was your body and the Engineer was the star. Even today… it’s your body, but I’m the star and you just haven’t accepted it. Others see it now though don’t they?

It’s funny to me when I stop and think about it. Starting at High Stakes all the way up to and through the Captains Match on Savage you were riding my dick. You tried hard to be Thaddeus Duke but you couldn’t quite live up to such lofty expectations. You see me accomplish big things and you wish it was you. You follow in my footsteps like a lost little puppy dog.

Case in point: we lose the tag belts and I move on to claiming something I never held, the only thing I never held and that was the Hart title. Not to be outdone, you tried real hard to be the Savage version of me by becoming the Television Champion and in your first major defense… you drop the ball.

We are not the same.

Your first shot in this War Games contest was berating management for throwing FUCKTHAD and DisContinuum together right out of the gate. You didn’t want it. You know who your betters are Corey, and at least two of those betters will be staring across from you at War Games. You didn’t want it because the embarrassment of getting bounced in the first round is too much for your fragile little ego to handle.

I continue to make circles around this manifestation of Corey Smith.

I, on the other hand, am absolutely fucking ecstatic. DisContinuum couldn’t be happier than to eliminate the Universal Champion and his number one pretender from the equation right out of the gate. I wanted this match so bad I damn near did something I never do. I almost went to my uncle to lobby for it, to make it happen. When I told Doc what I wanted he sat in thought for a minute, No, he urged me. Que sera, sera.

We’ll be okay though, right Cor’?

Leaning down to look manifested Corey in the face and adopting a mocking tone for a moment, Mommy and Daddy are fighting but we’ll be fine…

Well mommy, tell the kids Daddy wants a divorce.

I resume pacing circles around “Corey” and drop the mocking voice.

Alias, you backed the wrong fucking horse and I hope you’re paying attention. I’ve never hidden who I am and you think you have this insight into me that no one else can see? Don’t be ridiculous. Corey says its all about you. He said the same things about me going into High Stakes and Doc was right… he had a dagger pointed at my side the whole time that my love for him blinded me from seeing.

I see it now.

If you don’t think he’s got the same thing in mind for you… you’re sadly mistaken.

Speaking of Alias, Corey says he’s unstoppable and doesn’t know what fuels him.

Again, I lean down and stare “Corey” in the eyes.

It’s HATE you fucking idiot! Hate for me is what fuels him! He spent months quoting me in his promos. He isn’t stupid, he knows what works and he watches me to see what works and that entirely explains his eveloution into the arrogant asshole he’s becoming – because I’ve lived in his head since November. And now Corey, I live in yours too.

Why loyalty to Doc?

He didn’t have to help me. I was getting my ass handed to me by Cataclysm and I was fully prepared to go it alone at High Stakes against them if I needed to. Dolly wasn’t back yet. Corey, you were promoing for the battle royal but you couldn’t be bothered to help out his friend in need when you knew full well I’d been embroiled in a rivalry with Chris Page and by extension, Robert Main. If the shoes were on the other feet… I’d have rolled my ass to the ring in a wheelchair if I needed to in order to help you.

We are not the same.

Doc helped.

And with Doc at my side... I look over at Doc, still sitting at the table. We conquered the Universe.

I have a problem with you Corey, suggesting that I thought I needed you. That I somehow couldn’t function, couldn’t be the best without you. Let’s not confuse the terminology. Let’s not confuse needing and wanting. Did I want you by my side? Did I want to share my successes as well as my failures with you? Absolutely I did.

Did I need you? Did I need you to become Universal Champion? To become Tag champion? To be… me?

Nah man. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now. Looking at our recent track records… I think it’s pretty evident, that it’s you that needed me.

Pulling the Luger from my holster I put the barrel against “Corey’s” temple and pull the trigger with a loud pop. Blood and brain matter exit the far side of his head as he falls lifeless.

Continuum, Corey.

But no more passengers.]]> <![CDATA[The Powers That Be]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41528 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 23:57:01 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41528

“Ned.”

Ned’s stomach churned as he heard his name uttered again by the figure, hair still covering his face. On its waist was the Universal Championship. Clutching the sides of his head, Ned shut his eyes, desperately attempting to make the vision dissipate. But it simply wouldn’t. It grew closer, lumbering towards him, each footstep reverberating louder and louder. Fear surged through Kaye, knowing full well it wasn’t going to leave him be. It never did.

“Get away!” He cried out, hoping the figure might heed it.

Ned peeked through his fingers to be met with the eyes he dreaded so much staring back at him. It parted it’s hair, looking at Ned with its whole face. Prim and proper, confidence exuded in its mere presence. The man Ned had always been afraid of: The Notorious One. Sure, it was a moniker he carried for ages, but it wasn’t the title that haunted him, it was the him that so many expected him to be.

“What brought you here exactly?” asked the vision, a hint of compassion in his voice.

“Just stay away from me!” Ned shouted, retreating towards the mirror and slamming into the crack in its center, decimating it instantly and leaving it as a pile of glass surrounding him.

“Calm down. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Yes, it does! You don’t get it! Nobody does!”

“Ned… what are you so afraid of?”

“Isn’t it obvious?!” Ned shot back, falling to his hands and knees, emotion overcoming him, “I’m afraid of being trapped here inside of myself! I don’t want to be forgotten! I don’t want to let everyone down… but… I can’t be what they want me to be… I can’t be you!”

The Notorious One kneeled down, placing a hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“Then don’t be. But that’s your choice, Ned.”

“No, it isn’t… there’s something else in here…”

The Notorious One looked around.

“I don’t see anyone else here, but you.”

Ned rubs his eyes, inhaling uncomfortably.

“You just don’t get it…”

The Notorious One stood up, adjusting his title belt as he readied his posture.

“If you want to believe that, then that’s your decision and the life you’ll have to accept alongside it. But you know what’s really at play here, even if you don’t want to admit it. You have a choice as to what you’ll become. Always have.”

Ned looked up, seeing the room vacant once more.

“Choose.”


Ned’s eyes lazily opened. He had felt like hell ever since they returned from whatever strange Woodstock fueled drug bender they had all shared. Sure, it was a fun time, but the others were under the possibility that any of this was real. As much as Ned would enjoy meeting a rock legend and spending a while at some great epicentre of universal love, it felt very outside the realms of plausible reality, so he just dealt with the hangover and let the others have their delusions. Hell, he knew he had plenty of his. The Nefarious One looked at a clock, finally realizing exactly where he was. He had passed out, somehow, on the bar of some tiny little bar and restaurant they had managed to find after appearing on the island. Only a few seconds of consciousness brought the many drinks back to his mind, in painful fashion. Feeling a queasiness in his stomach Ned gulped as he saw someone approach him, only recognizing Jim Caedus’s face when he was a foot or two away. Jim sat at the bar confidently, a drink in one hand and the other slapped down on the bar.

“Thank Christ, you’re finally up, Ned! I been meanin’ to talk with you!”

During this entire escapade, Jim had been under the illusion that he and Ned were kindred spirits of some sort due to their connections in APEX. That the mere association made them brothers, but Ned hadn’t much patience for this view. Sure, he’s put up with Caedus, but they weren’t as alike as Jim would pretend. Jim was the man whose shoe’s Ned filled. The great third member of APEX that people spoke about, but Ned was nobody to those few, just a pretender in the spot of a legend.

“About what?”

Ned asked as politely as he possibly could, but the truth was that he was minimally interested in the answer.

“Well, y’know! Partner shit! Team shit and such! You know how it is for us, Nedly!”

He slapped Ned’s back, a habit he had made far too common already.

“You should save your breath, Caedus. I’m in this match for Robert. I’m not a teammate like you and the others are.”

Jim took a swig of his drink, cocking his head a bit.

“I know you’re lookin’ at Robert, hell, I am, too, but don’t sell yourself short.”

Ned’s ears perked up, a bit of shock surging through him as the words hit his ears.

“You don’t really mean that, Jim. I’ve seen how Robert and Drew talk and they’ll build you up to be this thing they want you to be, but they ignore who you really are. They don’t know me, so they can’t communicate who I am to you. We’re practically strangers.”

“I don’t see it that way. Shit, I was a little worried havin’ to slot back in after you had your time with them! They talk you up tons, kid! I come in thinking I mighta lost a step AND having to fill the slot of some Ned Kaye kid? Sheesh, I was sweatin’ for a while.”

Ned laughed a bit, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Impossible. You’re Jim Caedus. The world was wide open for you on name alone. I had to earn everything I have.”

“Guess again! You don’t own a monopoly on being stuck in your own spotlight, Nedly! Don’t start thinkin’ you do!”

Ned shrugged, tracing his finger on the rim of his glass.

“How did you get past it?”

“Hm?”

“That feeling of being in your own shadow?”

“Well, not by cryin’ about it, I’ll tell you that! It took a ton o’ work and I was a bit scared, but I knew I could do it and I did. Just like you did, brother.”

Ned smiled a bit, exhaling deeply. Jim looked at him, his tongue sitting uncomfortably in his mouth.

“Y’know, I think they’d prefer if you tried talkin’ to them again. Ever since Avalanche an’ all that, you’ve been kinda distant from them. I won’t say too much, but it ain’t fun for them. You’re APEX, even if you don’t always see yourself that way.”

“I guess… in a way, I already knew that,” Ned’s thoughts turned to War Games. To what he knew he had to do.

“I knew ya did,” Jim smiled, raising a glass, [color=#00BFFF]“Now why don’t you share a drink or two with a brother?”

A soft smile crossing his face, Ned nodded in compliance.

“Sure… brother.”

With a clink of the glasses, the two men began to talk as the sun rose behind them.



Oh, no, I see a darkness
Did you know how much I love you?
Is a hope that somehow you
Would save me from this darkness?


The Nefarious One sits in a dimly lit room, a glass of whisky in hand. With a small movement of his wrist, he swishes the whisky around in the glass, the amber liquid dancing solemnly before he swallows it in one gulp, taking a breath to let the burn simmer across his throat.

“The thing that separates a fine whisky or scotch from their truly excellent counterparts is the singe it leaves as it travels into your stomach. In a lesser whisky, it is sharp and cluttered, confused in some ways and overbearing to the flavor. Heat at the cost of quality and clarity of tastes. But the best whiskys have something far more robust. Certainly it is oftentimes smoother, but equally intense without distracting the palate. It is this distinction that seperates a group of randomly selected individuals from a true team. Sure, there may be some fire that you notice, but it is unfocused and ineffectual. These are the differences between the well-oiled, precision violence that team… “Acockalypse Now” has as opposed to the clumsy inelegance of something like… let’s say, BOB.”

Ned pours a shot of into the glass, preparing to place it to his lips before interrupting himself.

“Oh, did you think I meant to mention Charlie’s island of dipshit toys? Please, even Jim Beam deserves more respect than being compared to that pit of sewer water.”

“But I suppose I do need to address them. I mean they’ve done such a wonderful job undermining their own qualifications against a team with a penis joke in its name, but no one really expected them not to do that, so it’s really just all business now. For the most part. I guess that means I have to talk about Marf.”

Ned downs the shot in a split second.

“Alright, onto Dolly Waters-”

Rolling his eyes, Ned sighs and shrugs.

“Fine, I guess I should probably try and mention Marf. I mean, it’s more than your partner will do in six months. Usually I’d ask how you manage to go to sleep at night, knowing that you have about as much staying power as a father who went out to get a pack of cigarettes, but I’m more interested in how the hell you manage to stay up. You’re essentially living in a nightmare, Marf, one where you’re not good enough to be a singles guy and you’re bad enough to tank your tag team. I don’t mean to be hyperbolic, but if Lycana began partnering with a framed photograph of herself, she would likely see more tag team success. Hell, the team might actually be popular! As it stands now, Marf, I just hope you enjoy 30 second segments in “Where’s this wrestler now?” videos because you are going to occupy quite a few in two years time.”

“Alright, now I get to shit all over the queen of the flyover states, Dolly Waters. I’m pretty sure the only reason anyone refers to that collection of landmasses as such is because Waters and her inbred, hick family lives there and their collective lack of importance infected the dirt itself. I blame you for that. I forgive you, because otherwise people would have to occupy fucking nowhere alongside you, but it’s still your fault to begin with. Maybe you should recruit more of those cousin-siblings you inevitably have strung across America and see if they’ll take a fall so you can actually get a couple of wins under your belt. That said, I don’t think even the most braindead hillbilly would find being pressed beneath you as one of the most repulsive experiences of their life, so don’t count on that. If anything, just keep counting on your fourteen fingers and toes that no matter what you do, Ghost Tank will do it better. God, what a miserable existence.”

“Oh, Charlie. Need I explain in any further detail how supremely useless you are to the universe no matter what name or face you put on? Should I point out how you’ve squandered each and every opportunity to make something of yourself or the fact that you couldn’t help but act like hot shit backstage for drafting someone who commands infinitely more respect than you as your first pick? You are truly classless and that’s not just an indication of your intelligence, but of your approach to everything. I’m halfway surprised you don’t just demand every match of yours to be some backyard shithole-style deathmatch because the only thing you do impressively in professional wrestling is bleed. Hell, one of your choices was the man who ripped your only accomplishment out of your fingers and you almost certainly only chose him for the sake of feeling like you have some real power in the dynamic. Oh Charlie, I hate to break it you, but you lost your greatest accomplishment to the guy who’s about to benchwarm for a photo of his partner. I wish I could express in words how profoundly and utterly pointless you are, but your own teambuilding has done that for me long before your twerpy little existence ever could. I know you think that there’s the beginning of some rivalry between you and I, but this is not the case. You’re simply the body I intend tossing aside before focusing on the only person who matters on your team.”

Ned pours another shot out, not going to drink it instantly.

“But, the saddest part about this team isn’t its poor choice of membership or its lackluster captain. No, it’s the knowledge that this is the beginning of Robert’s twilight and it is wasted on bottom of the barrel “talent.” I let the world know what was next for Robert, but it seems even he’s in denial of that truth as it slowly twists his head towards the sunset and my finger towards the trigger. This is my destiny, Main, it always has been. Do you know how sickening it has been to watch others try and steal that away from me? Chris Page tried his best to kill you, but he was too much of a coward to do it himself. He kept you drugged and blind and slid back under a rock as he realized BOB wasn’t going to be able to protect him. It was never his privilege to end you. As for TK, he inherited his shot at you from Page and came at you with a passionless, needless attempt on your life. It was never his right to try and kill you. The collapse of your career is something so many will try to claim, but it has only ever been me, Robert. That’s why you wanted to switch to talks of Caedus trying to close the book on your time. You know it’s me and you don’t want to look your Grim Reaper in the eye. But as the old poem says, Death be not proud. It was a Dead Man’s Hand that first lifted me up in the eyes of many and it will be a hand of the man you left living that closes your casket. This is my favor to you. This is my mercy.”

“But it is not a gentle mercy. How could it be in the slightest? I bear this cross and you don’t even have the courtesy to truly give me your focus. Don’t you understand what I’m trying to do for you? To save you from? You’ve never been turned on by them like I have, Robert! You don’t understand how it feels and you’ll never have to. I am your ferry to Valhalla, the keeper of your pearly gates, the liberator of your fading legacy and I will be fucking acknowledged by you. If not by your words, then your blood. You might walk amongst those lesser opponents, maybe even pretend to be one of them, but you’re not. Me, you, even Jim? We’re not like them. Hell, you’ve more in common with Dick Powers and Geri than you do any of those you stand aside now. But us? We are APEX, kin forged in flames that others don’t even dare to glance at. We are violent men who face violent conclusions. You will not go silently in that long sleep of death to be forgotten. I will make sure of it. So, do what you must. Make peace with your family and your fans. Make peace with the end of your days as the death of your ego awaits. However, if I’m to be honest, I don’t believe you will. You’ll cling to a normality long past, wholeheartedly believing that there is no end in sight. That you will be someone forever. And even when you look in my eyes, like the hound to the owner, you won’t recognize my merciful intentions until the birds are flying above your remains. It’s like I said, Rob.”

Ned pours himself another shot of whisky before tossing the glass away and taking a deep drink from the bottle. He pauses for a moment, the drink dripping down his chin as he stares into the camera.

“Sometimes you just don’t know who you’re dealing with.”]]>

“Ned.”

Ned’s stomach churned as he heard his name uttered again by the figure, hair still covering his face. On its waist was the Universal Championship. Clutching the sides of his head, Ned shut his eyes, desperately attempting to make the vision dissipate. But it simply wouldn’t. It grew closer, lumbering towards him, each footstep reverberating louder and louder. Fear surged through Kaye, knowing full well it wasn’t going to leave him be. It never did.

“Get away!” He cried out, hoping the figure might heed it.

Ned peeked through his fingers to be met with the eyes he dreaded so much staring back at him. It parted it’s hair, looking at Ned with its whole face. Prim and proper, confidence exuded in its mere presence. The man Ned had always been afraid of: The Notorious One. Sure, it was a moniker he carried for ages, but it wasn’t the title that haunted him, it was the him that so many expected him to be.

“What brought you here exactly?” asked the vision, a hint of compassion in his voice.

“Just stay away from me!” Ned shouted, retreating towards the mirror and slamming into the crack in its center, decimating it instantly and leaving it as a pile of glass surrounding him.

“Calm down. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Yes, it does! You don’t get it! Nobody does!”

“Ned… what are you so afraid of?”

“Isn’t it obvious?!” Ned shot back, falling to his hands and knees, emotion overcoming him, “I’m afraid of being trapped here inside of myself! I don’t want to be forgotten! I don’t want to let everyone down… but… I can’t be what they want me to be… I can’t be you!”

The Notorious One kneeled down, placing a hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“Then don’t be. But that’s your choice, Ned.”

“No, it isn’t… there’s something else in here…”

The Notorious One looked around.

“I don’t see anyone else here, but you.”

Ned rubs his eyes, inhaling uncomfortably.

“You just don’t get it…”

The Notorious One stood up, adjusting his title belt as he readied his posture.

“If you want to believe that, then that’s your decision and the life you’ll have to accept alongside it. But you know what’s really at play here, even if you don’t want to admit it. You have a choice as to what you’ll become. Always have.”

Ned looked up, seeing the room vacant once more.

“Choose.”


Ned’s eyes lazily opened. He had felt like hell ever since they returned from whatever strange Woodstock fueled drug bender they had all shared. Sure, it was a fun time, but the others were under the possibility that any of this was real. As much as Ned would enjoy meeting a rock legend and spending a while at some great epicentre of universal love, it felt very outside the realms of plausible reality, so he just dealt with the hangover and let the others have their delusions. Hell, he knew he had plenty of his. The Nefarious One looked at a clock, finally realizing exactly where he was. He had passed out, somehow, on the bar of some tiny little bar and restaurant they had managed to find after appearing on the island. Only a few seconds of consciousness brought the many drinks back to his mind, in painful fashion. Feeling a queasiness in his stomach Ned gulped as he saw someone approach him, only recognizing Jim Caedus’s face when he was a foot or two away. Jim sat at the bar confidently, a drink in one hand and the other slapped down on the bar.

“Thank Christ, you’re finally up, Ned! I been meanin’ to talk with you!”

During this entire escapade, Jim had been under the illusion that he and Ned were kindred spirits of some sort due to their connections in APEX. That the mere association made them brothers, but Ned hadn’t much patience for this view. Sure, he’s put up with Caedus, but they weren’t as alike as Jim would pretend. Jim was the man whose shoe’s Ned filled. The great third member of APEX that people spoke about, but Ned was nobody to those few, just a pretender in the spot of a legend.

“About what?”

Ned asked as politely as he possibly could, but the truth was that he was minimally interested in the answer.

“Well, y’know! Partner shit! Team shit and such! You know how it is for us, Nedly!”

He slapped Ned’s back, a habit he had made far too common already.

“You should save your breath, Caedus. I’m in this match for Robert. I’m not a teammate like you and the others are.”

Jim took a swig of his drink, cocking his head a bit.

“I know you’re lookin’ at Robert, hell, I am, too, but don’t sell yourself short.”

Ned’s ears perked up, a bit of shock surging through him as the words hit his ears.

“You don’t really mean that, Jim. I’ve seen how Robert and Drew talk and they’ll build you up to be this thing they want you to be, but they ignore who you really are. They don’t know me, so they can’t communicate who I am to you. We’re practically strangers.”

“I don’t see it that way. Shit, I was a little worried havin’ to slot back in after you had your time with them! They talk you up tons, kid! I come in thinking I mighta lost a step AND having to fill the slot of some Ned Kaye kid? Sheesh, I was sweatin’ for a while.”

Ned laughed a bit, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Impossible. You’re Jim Caedus. The world was wide open for you on name alone. I had to earn everything I have.”

“Guess again! You don’t own a monopoly on being stuck in your own spotlight, Nedly! Don’t start thinkin’ you do!”

Ned shrugged, tracing his finger on the rim of his glass.

“How did you get past it?”

“Hm?”

“That feeling of being in your own shadow?”

“Well, not by cryin’ about it, I’ll tell you that! It took a ton o’ work and I was a bit scared, but I knew I could do it and I did. Just like you did, brother.”

Ned smiled a bit, exhaling deeply. Jim looked at him, his tongue sitting uncomfortably in his mouth.

“Y’know, I think they’d prefer if you tried talkin’ to them again. Ever since Avalanche an’ all that, you’ve been kinda distant from them. I won’t say too much, but it ain’t fun for them. You’re APEX, even if you don’t always see yourself that way.”

“I guess… in a way, I already knew that,” Ned’s thoughts turned to War Games. To what he knew he had to do.

“I knew ya did,” Jim smiled, raising a glass, [color=#00BFFF]“Now why don’t you share a drink or two with a brother?”

A soft smile crossing his face, Ned nodded in compliance.

“Sure… brother.”

With a clink of the glasses, the two men began to talk as the sun rose behind them.



Oh, no, I see a darkness
Did you know how much I love you?
Is a hope that somehow you
Would save me from this darkness?


The Nefarious One sits in a dimly lit room, a glass of whisky in hand. With a small movement of his wrist, he swishes the whisky around in the glass, the amber liquid dancing solemnly before he swallows it in one gulp, taking a breath to let the burn simmer across his throat.

“The thing that separates a fine whisky or scotch from their truly excellent counterparts is the singe it leaves as it travels into your stomach. In a lesser whisky, it is sharp and cluttered, confused in some ways and overbearing to the flavor. Heat at the cost of quality and clarity of tastes. But the best whiskys have something far more robust. Certainly it is oftentimes smoother, but equally intense without distracting the palate. It is this distinction that seperates a group of randomly selected individuals from a true team. Sure, there may be some fire that you notice, but it is unfocused and ineffectual. These are the differences between the well-oiled, precision violence that team… “Acockalypse Now” has as opposed to the clumsy inelegance of something like… let’s say, BOB.”

Ned pours a shot of into the glass, preparing to place it to his lips before interrupting himself.

“Oh, did you think I meant to mention Charlie’s island of dipshit toys? Please, even Jim Beam deserves more respect than being compared to that pit of sewer water.”

“But I suppose I do need to address them. I mean they’ve done such a wonderful job undermining their own qualifications against a team with a penis joke in its name, but no one really expected them not to do that, so it’s really just all business now. For the most part. I guess that means I have to talk about Marf.”

Ned downs the shot in a split second.

“Alright, onto Dolly Waters-”

Rolling his eyes, Ned sighs and shrugs.

“Fine, I guess I should probably try and mention Marf. I mean, it’s more than your partner will do in six months. Usually I’d ask how you manage to go to sleep at night, knowing that you have about as much staying power as a father who went out to get a pack of cigarettes, but I’m more interested in how the hell you manage to stay up. You’re essentially living in a nightmare, Marf, one where you’re not good enough to be a singles guy and you’re bad enough to tank your tag team. I don’t mean to be hyperbolic, but if Lycana began partnering with a framed photograph of herself, she would likely see more tag team success. Hell, the team might actually be popular! As it stands now, Marf, I just hope you enjoy 30 second segments in “Where’s this wrestler now?” videos because you are going to occupy quite a few in two years time.”

“Alright, now I get to shit all over the queen of the flyover states, Dolly Waters. I’m pretty sure the only reason anyone refers to that collection of landmasses as such is because Waters and her inbred, hick family lives there and their collective lack of importance infected the dirt itself. I blame you for that. I forgive you, because otherwise people would have to occupy fucking nowhere alongside you, but it’s still your fault to begin with. Maybe you should recruit more of those cousin-siblings you inevitably have strung across America and see if they’ll take a fall so you can actually get a couple of wins under your belt. That said, I don’t think even the most braindead hillbilly would find being pressed beneath you as one of the most repulsive experiences of their life, so don’t count on that. If anything, just keep counting on your fourteen fingers and toes that no matter what you do, Ghost Tank will do it better. God, what a miserable existence.”

“Oh, Charlie. Need I explain in any further detail how supremely useless you are to the universe no matter what name or face you put on? Should I point out how you’ve squandered each and every opportunity to make something of yourself or the fact that you couldn’t help but act like hot shit backstage for drafting someone who commands infinitely more respect than you as your first pick? You are truly classless and that’s not just an indication of your intelligence, but of your approach to everything. I’m halfway surprised you don’t just demand every match of yours to be some backyard shithole-style deathmatch because the only thing you do impressively in professional wrestling is bleed. Hell, one of your choices was the man who ripped your only accomplishment out of your fingers and you almost certainly only chose him for the sake of feeling like you have some real power in the dynamic. Oh Charlie, I hate to break it you, but you lost your greatest accomplishment to the guy who’s about to benchwarm for a photo of his partner. I wish I could express in words how profoundly and utterly pointless you are, but your own teambuilding has done that for me long before your twerpy little existence ever could. I know you think that there’s the beginning of some rivalry between you and I, but this is not the case. You’re simply the body I intend tossing aside before focusing on the only person who matters on your team.”

Ned pours another shot out, not going to drink it instantly.

“But, the saddest part about this team isn’t its poor choice of membership or its lackluster captain. No, it’s the knowledge that this is the beginning of Robert’s twilight and it is wasted on bottom of the barrel “talent.” I let the world know what was next for Robert, but it seems even he’s in denial of that truth as it slowly twists his head towards the sunset and my finger towards the trigger. This is my destiny, Main, it always has been. Do you know how sickening it has been to watch others try and steal that away from me? Chris Page tried his best to kill you, but he was too much of a coward to do it himself. He kept you drugged and blind and slid back under a rock as he realized BOB wasn’t going to be able to protect him. It was never his privilege to end you. As for TK, he inherited his shot at you from Page and came at you with a passionless, needless attempt on your life. It was never his right to try and kill you. The collapse of your career is something so many will try to claim, but it has only ever been me, Robert. That’s why you wanted to switch to talks of Caedus trying to close the book on your time. You know it’s me and you don’t want to look your Grim Reaper in the eye. But as the old poem says, Death be not proud. It was a Dead Man’s Hand that first lifted me up in the eyes of many and it will be a hand of the man you left living that closes your casket. This is my favor to you. This is my mercy.”

“But it is not a gentle mercy. How could it be in the slightest? I bear this cross and you don’t even have the courtesy to truly give me your focus. Don’t you understand what I’m trying to do for you? To save you from? You’ve never been turned on by them like I have, Robert! You don’t understand how it feels and you’ll never have to. I am your ferry to Valhalla, the keeper of your pearly gates, the liberator of your fading legacy and I will be fucking acknowledged by you. If not by your words, then your blood. You might walk amongst those lesser opponents, maybe even pretend to be one of them, but you’re not. Me, you, even Jim? We’re not like them. Hell, you’ve more in common with Dick Powers and Geri than you do any of those you stand aside now. But us? We are APEX, kin forged in flames that others don’t even dare to glance at. We are violent men who face violent conclusions. You will not go silently in that long sleep of death to be forgotten. I will make sure of it. So, do what you must. Make peace with your family and your fans. Make peace with the end of your days as the death of your ego awaits. However, if I’m to be honest, I don’t believe you will. You’ll cling to a normality long past, wholeheartedly believing that there is no end in sight. That you will be someone forever. And even when you look in my eyes, like the hound to the owner, you won’t recognize my merciful intentions until the birds are flying above your remains. It’s like I said, Rob.”

Ned pours himself another shot of whisky before tossing the glass away and taking a deep drink from the bottle. He pauses for a moment, the drink dripping down his chin as he stares into the camera.

“Sometimes you just don’t know who you’re dealing with.”]]> <![CDATA[Shit Shredder]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41537 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 23:56:28 -0700 JimCaedus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41537 ======λςΦςκλιφρ$Σ ηΦω======






























---BEFORE Jim and Arcana met Acockalypse Now at the docks...---



Arcana baby?


Yes lovebug?


I was wonderin'...maybe we don't hafta use a time-travelin' pirates' galleon to get back to the source 'a Lord Dick's mojo. I mean, time IS of the essence amirite? War Games approaches, if there were any way you could help us lifehack this-


Not a good idea baby. Chrono-magick is highly unstable and- She trails off at the look Jim- big ol' pussy that he is -levels her way...






[Image: r6ZDksC.gif]


Oh I can't say no to you...like ever. Jim flashes her a devilish grin as she initiates a series of complex light-trailing hand movements in the air, a lot like Dr. Strange but this is reality, not fantasy. Otherwise we'd look like a buncha feebs.


Bring everybody else along sweet cheeks.


Arcana "draws" a pocketwatch in light, the icon spinning swiftly into a blur as blinding illumination extends outward in all directions, enveloping them and our very own POV---






Arcana blinks and gazes around at her very un-1969 surroundings...


...In fact, the time would seem more or less present day judging from the skyscrapers and the vehicles on the streets. The place however...


Victimville, NY, she observes on a nearby city limits sign? Jimmy, we-


But Jimmy isn't there. He's gone, where, we may never kno- Oh, there he is!










































[Image: WOptfHU.jpg]

Caedzilla stomps towards Victimville. With a 'zilla rawr- Arcanaaaaaaaa?? What gives??


Oh Lords...I maaaaay have warped us into an alternate timeline/dimension. I wonder if anyone else made it?


As if in response, the earth quakes from the opposite end of Vville, an ape of titanic proportions approaches...




































[Image: nLDgM3G.jpg]

King Dong roars- How is my penis slightly smaller this way?


Caedzilla cries back- Hey, I don't even HAVE a penis this way!


So essentially you're unchanged.


All eyes turn to-





































[Image: SVEPUmU.jpg]


Oh HA HA Nedly, everyone knows DAMN well I have a big fat cock. Fuckin' dope btw, 3-headed King Nedra?? Where's Geri?







































[Image: qKHi38m.jpg]

...........this is so stupid.





"Kings (and Queen) of the Monsters" an Acockalypse Now Adventure





Voice amplifying magick. Everyone! I'm working up the return spell RIGHT NOW! In the meantime, play your roles as the Universe requires!


Mighty Moth Bitch shrieks. What the hell does that mean? Fight eachother?


Sad pathetic fuck stumbling around drunkly. Can someone tell me what to say here PLEASE? I- King Nedra's massive foot flattens him.


I swear that was Robert Main. I mean, obviously not THE Robert Main because that'd be cheating, but a reasonable facsimile.


Oh shit... Hey baby? When I asked if ya could bring everyone didja literally bring-


Everyone, yes.


Tiiiiiight. Let's KILLEM AAAAAAAALL!!!


King Nedra's three heads lower, maws wide, to the streets below to scoop up three chicks, one of 'em Shawn Warstein. The other two appear to be an ET with Impossibly small tits and a clown with a blue wig and NO XTREME TITLE. TROLOLOLOLOL. Fuck you Lycana.


No one can kick MY ass! Not without an overdose of children's Tylenol! I'm unSTOPPAB- Caedzilla squashes Marf with his mighty tail.


Hops out with his arms raised. SURPRISE!! And what a surprise it is as Charlie squishes between Caedzilla's reptilian toes.


Ready? Set? GOIN' HOME!


Yoink! King Dong plucks a pissy rain cloud Dolly Waters up and chows down. Tastes like failure. Oh and what have we here?


King Dong next snatches up a- Holy shit... -VERY heavy fat fuck somehow rappin' while simultaneously suckin' down any and all biteable matter in his proximity. Inexplicably, even the mighty monolith of monkey has a hard time lifting him. And when he DOES drop him into his mouth-


-he finds him impossible to swallow, rotund planetoid stuck firmly between his jaws.


Catches the action. Oh shit, Bobby "The 'Betes" Bourbon! Ha! Still darin' fate to take a foot off, 'ey fatass? Careful my Captain, he's a mouthful 'a dogshit.


Allow me.


Mighty Moth Bitch picks Bourbs from King Dong's mouth- nearly drops to the ground at warp speed -and has a helluva time flappin' him up to a nice height from whence she drops him-


-to a spectacular splatter below. Christ what a mess. She then turns her wings to a quintet of assholes (Chaos, NKWC, Estrada, Dixon and Oswald) and unleashes hurricane force winds, blasting them all across the city to smash through the walls of a distant Special Education schooling center.


Alias, perched atop a skyscraper, rubs his hands together enjoying the slaughter. Yeeeees. Eat them. Eat them all.


King Dong snatches him, dangling him above his yawning gorilla gape.


Hey! I've still got a thousand prewritten metaphorical masturbatory stories to upload!


Eat Alias. And he does so. Urp. Excuse me, that was incredibly filling with a hacky aftertaste. I guess quantity really can trump quality.


Hey gang the return spell is ready!


One more sec, love...


Caedzilla turns his attention to Thad, Fury and TK all arguing over who best can copy Caedus and unleashes a rainbow laser death sequence of his own-

















[Image: QwmHzTr.jpg]

-reducing them all to a cloud of carbon dust.


K, we can go.


With a FLASH, Acockalypse Now vanishes.


Dock and Corey look on, still among the living. As they high-five, they notice a curious shadow spreading across Victimville. Turning their attention to the heavens they spot a skyscraper teetering their way, with no escape, severed by Caedus's 'zilla breath.


Well...que sera sera, amirite?


FIN
∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆



Shit
[Image: S2fXjHB.gif]
Shredder







Marf... Did I hear you correctly? You can't wait to get your hands on THIS "mouthy fuck in a non-poisoned state of mind"?


Thaaaaat's right, pussy. Keep remindin' us.


Everyone, just an FYI:

Marf is tougher than all of us. Marf can't WIN but in every other way he's better than us. We can't smash Marf's hard workin' head out 'is ass but HE can absolutely take a hard workin' Micheal Graves, a guy I personally know is tougher than Marf, to squash city. If anyone ever slaughters Marf it's 'cause he was poisoned.

Not an off night for him.

Not any of us bein' at our best.

Poison.

Do I make myself clear!?



Hey Marf?


How many times have you had your balls sad empty nutsac handed to you here? It didn't "take the full match" to beat you, APEX just wanted to enjoy beatin' on you before beatin' you. And fuck a "fraction of a man", you consistently lose while at 100%, prick.


We all kick your ass all the time, who needs poison to put YOU down?


Y- ? You- ? You actually think anyone needs anything other than to be drawin' breath to beat you down? Not to mention: WHY? Why poison YOU when you've been such a fantastically submissive slit for the roster, the groupie gash we all stretch and pass? You're fine the way you are sweetie, we LIKE when you struggle and you always make us laugh when you find comfort in the fact you're a jobbin' bitch by choice who "don't care 'bout wins and just likes to hurt people".


Now shut the fuck up and get back on all fours you credless loser, as your Alpha I command you! I'M the one mountin' a 'Cana associated with your Dissentients circle, not you. Get the fuck on your hands and knees in the middle of our War Games ring and wait there quietly for your Alpha to arrive and the penetration to begin, bitch.


I own you.


In fact, I own all 'a you in Charlie's army. You unbelievably spineless pack 'a pissants, you and everyone else pullin' the ammo embargo shit on me displays how afraid you all are to get into it. Idgaf that you're all gonna get to it in round 2- and you certainly are -the statement's already been made:



The Carnies are cowards for Caedus.



And why not?


Who's the real ringmaster here by comparison?


- I already put you AND your hairy magick mammy down, Marf.

- Main, in Leap of Faith 2017 while you were throwin' a bitch fit at the bottom I was kickin' Chaos's clit from the rafters to win the match. Hell with how long ago it was, you ain't nowhere near the titan you were then.

- Dolly, despite your best efforts it wasn't you walkin' away with the briefcase in Lethal Lottery 4, it was me. And like with Main, it don't really matter how long ago that was, you ain't been the same Dolly since.

- And finally, your captain Charlie I just choked the fuck out in Central Park for the K-O win.


If I were any 'a you, I'd be tremblin' too.


Still...I can't help but feel disappointed when ya finally took your shots KNOWIN' I came at you and ya gotta catch up now...


Dolly, ya seem to understand pretty well what I'm sayin' despite the usual desperate horseshit you and everyone else likes to claim about me. I'm off my meds, limp-dick diatribes (mind not legit verbatim usin' my style?), saaaaaaame ol' shit while you whine about people sayin' the same ol' shit. I won't own what, Doll', rapin' opponents with my laceratin' linguistics ya butthurt Kentucky fried fuck-up? Don't hate me, hate yourself for not tryin' harder, honkey hack. Own bein' crazy? Where tf you been bitch? I mean besides swingin' from my nuts in your cold starts before I flicked you fleas from my sac.


No one gotta "copy" shit unless their names are Robert Main, Dolly Waters, RL Edgar and Thunder Knuckles. And we ALL know that's the case. You wanna stop the attacks on your hiatuses typical Waters flake outs? Stop flakin' out, pussy. Simple. Soon as you stop providin' the ammo, we'll all stop nailin' you on it ya peckerwood weak link.


You accusin' me of imaginin' APEX thinks 'a me as a traitor betrays just how little you pay attention...y'know, to that whole graveyard bit a few Warfares back in which my loyalties fell into question...like a perceived traitor. Lol. Perhaps if you spent less time brainstormin' your next brilliant excuse for dippin' out and put more time into researchin' shit that seems to have leaked out the crack in Main's skull, ya might have somethin' valid to hit me with.


You never left the XWF of your own accord, ya left because I spoiled your self-proclaimed "Dolly's time" in LL4. I showed you the door and booted your ass the fuck out. You were never the same after that, never on fire like ya were before I pissed all over your self-absorbed belief the Lottery was aaaaaaall about you and your very Charlie Nickles-like lameass surprise reveal that Buronan was Dolly (is it any wonder Waters are known to work with Nickles now? Pick a hero who ain't a proven loser Char). All that effort. All the lies. They amounted to Caedus killin' your momentum and heart. Oh, and a participation award with the 3-way SOTM. 'Cause if Dolly don't get a pat on the head she'll break into tears and bawl backstage.


And FTR, Main came off the draft first because Charlie is a dipshit cunt who thought it meant an auto win for your team. Pretty sure ain't no one gonna call that an empty accusation save for a pack 'a pissants known for dickless denial.


Everything about you and your history, much like your unc' RL, is a clusterfuck to the nth degree. Remember Ally Worsted? That was a humdinger... I kicked Ally Worsted's no-showin' ass too you "ingenious" wielder of anagrams. You shoulda stayed as supporting cast for Continuum, cracker cumdumpster, you're more outta your mind and unable to keep up with reality now than you ever were.


Face it, you just suck at this Dolly and you rarely finish anything. Start now and finish your career. Retire. For good. Or I swear to God I'll end it for you.


Again.


And speakin' 'a asshats in need 'a retirement...


'Ey Bob-O.





Question...


Why is it whenever you have a new partner your trash talk changes in kind? It's like since Cataclysm 90% 'a the time (we'll go ahead and ignore that amazing shit you shot at Thad in your third promo before Warfare) when solo you swing the basic boilerplate Robert Vain coma-triggerin' twattery but when you have a partner or partners, suddenly you're a lot more coherent, colorful and killer. Page apparently seems to feel the same way about you.


Jam that middle finger I know you're flippin' up your ass, it's more apt; you clearly fuck yourSELF.


You forgot who tf you were before I ever came back and I've watched you essentially fucktard around parroting whomever you're closest to in the moment, ya monkeyass marionette.


I wanna say I appreciate your lack of attack but you didn't do it for me. You did it for you. Coward. You didn't wanna rile me up and unleash the hell I'd bring (and you failed btw). You were willin' to let your team take me on FOR you (what a FUCKIN' shock) and for that they should be kickin' your ass while you snooze through promos.


Sleepin' on me.


Literally.


You'll regret that...and ya most likely already do because-


UT OOOOOOOOHS... The Mainiac is channelin' The Monstrosity!!


Anyone but concrete Robert Main 'cause let's face it, Robert Main can't handle anything but his own miniscule fetus phallus. Jimmy Caedus never had to be anyone but 'imself. YOU Bob-0 (not O, ZERO), you gotta cook with someone else's spices bc you're as flavorless as wet white rice. Your greatest successes in the XWF revolved 'round my absence seein' as you can't shine with me beside ya. You SOUND better...but you damn sure don't shine.


Never blamed anyone but myself for my fuck-ups you incompetent ignorANUS. Keep tryna twist shit to sound good though, I'm as untouchable to your criticisms as originality is laissez-faire for you.


Tell ya what Robert...regardless 'a what happens in War Games, afterwards ol' Jimbo here is STILL gonna be available to support you in EVERY. WAY. I told ya, this is strictly business. It ain't my fault you fucked up. It's yours ya botchin' bitch.


Period.


Own it like I own you.


For now...


I promise I'm gonna cut those puppet strings and garrote you with 'em 'til I've severed that balloon head clean off and kick it to heights you'll never again experience.


For my team. For my captain.


And speakin' 'a captains...


Didja call me "old timer" Cap'n Cuck?


[Image: SJaoCtX.gif]


Lol, stfu.


03-03-1979 is your birthday Charlie. You're older than I am and you look like it. Imagine that, an asshole teamin' with Waters after Waters and has problems keepin' track 'a dates and ages. You're 42 but you look 70 in your Thrax promo reveal and B&W photos don't help your case, old man. Keep referrin' to me as old timer though you cocksucker, it totally works. Your trigger attempts are as laughable as Rel quitting in response to you announcin' another surprise for her on Warfare...the same Warfare in which I legit knocked you unconscious. Boy, I hope that surprise wasn't s'posed to be YOU defeatin' ME for HER.


SURPRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!! TROLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!


Jesus H for "Holy-cuck-Chuck'll-never-fuck" cunnyless Christ, your career in the XWF is a dropping Blue Blazer on infinite loop. How DARE you bring that image to our minds- now I'm REALLY gonna get savage on you in the match. Best thing about it is, I can flat out kill you and you'll just reincarnate and pop up later like whack-a-mole pack-a-hole for us all to keep ballin' so it ain't murder!


You don't scare me Charles. Ya never would've, ya never will...and when Acockalypse Now has survived your Carnie cuckolds you'll finally start to understand who should be fearin' who here.


And on the subject 'a my team...


I've heard a whole lotta limpdickery out there, people avoidin' aimin' ammo my way and cuttin' on Acockalypse Now in the process as if we ain't shit and "poor Jim stuck with that lineup".


I'm sendin' each and every one 'a you that said that a portion 'a the C Diff. ice cream I have in my freezer. With any luck you'll all be shitting all over eachother at War Games, Crimson Dong will appear, spontaneously joy-detonate and take you all to fecal Hell with him.


To be aligned with Dick Powers and his disquiet riot of a mouth like an alliGator guttin' you all is an honor. Geri Vayden, former Shooting Star Champ, clap-backin' ball-buster, an honor. Nedly Kaye, two time Hart Champion and former APEX PROPHECY MEMBER...an honor. Not to mention, a fraternal bond in the making.


We may not be jackin' off with "not at all old hat" kidnapping antics while Main sleeps the rest of his career away waitin' for cue cards, or droppin' super insightful and intimidating metaphors about mugs (led by "thoroughbred" big fish bully Captains über pussy enough to target guppies like Andre Dixon as opposed to opponents more on his level. Psh...pathetic sociopathic bitch, you forgot your shame and class when you came outta the closet), or a team with Chris Chaos ('nuff said), or a team with Reggie Estrada ('nuff said), or a team outweighin' the rest of us combined by a metric ton 'a diabetes, swagger-jackin', fake beltS (hell yeah Big D, fuck Fury) and the vacuum 'a talent and personal hygiene that is Money Oswald...but at least we ain't all 'a the above.


We also ain't the two teams with such stupendous cohesion they lost a draft pick and re-upped with toxic caustic cunts like that geriatric jag-off sCent of a Gassy Asshole- HOO AH -and Atty's toddler dicked, APEX disrespectin', fugazi gladiator- by which I mean


BIG FUZZY PUSSY


-ex, Shawn "I can't handle ? women" Warstein. Ding.


Nah, we're Acockalypse Now.


Win or lose, we're stiff competition and we'll be buttfuckin' Faptastic four-flushers for sure.


XXXDXIXEXXXDXIXCXKXHXEXAXDXSXXX]]> ======λςΦςκλιφρ$Σ ηΦω======






























---BEFORE Jim and Arcana met Acockalypse Now at the docks...---



Arcana baby?


Yes lovebug?


I was wonderin'...maybe we don't hafta use a time-travelin' pirates' galleon to get back to the source 'a Lord Dick's mojo. I mean, time IS of the essence amirite? War Games approaches, if there were any way you could help us lifehack this-


Not a good idea baby. Chrono-magick is highly unstable and- She trails off at the look Jim- big ol' pussy that he is -levels her way...






[Image: r6ZDksC.gif]


Oh I can't say no to you...like ever. Jim flashes her a devilish grin as she initiates a series of complex light-trailing hand movements in the air, a lot like Dr. Strange but this is reality, not fantasy. Otherwise we'd look like a buncha feebs.


Bring everybody else along sweet cheeks.


Arcana "draws" a pocketwatch in light, the icon spinning swiftly into a blur as blinding illumination extends outward in all directions, enveloping them and our very own POV---






Arcana blinks and gazes around at her very un-1969 surroundings...


...In fact, the time would seem more or less present day judging from the skyscrapers and the vehicles on the streets. The place however...


Victimville, NY, she observes on a nearby city limits sign? Jimmy, we-


But Jimmy isn't there. He's gone, where, we may never kno- Oh, there he is!










































[Image: WOptfHU.jpg]

Caedzilla stomps towards Victimville. With a 'zilla rawr- Arcanaaaaaaaa?? What gives??


Oh Lords...I maaaaay have warped us into an alternate timeline/dimension. I wonder if anyone else made it?


As if in response, the earth quakes from the opposite end of Vville, an ape of titanic proportions approaches...




































[Image: nLDgM3G.jpg]

King Dong roars- How is my penis slightly smaller this way?


Caedzilla cries back- Hey, I don't even HAVE a penis this way!


So essentially you're unchanged.


All eyes turn to-





































[Image: SVEPUmU.jpg]


Oh HA HA Nedly, everyone knows DAMN well I have a big fat cock. Fuckin' dope btw, 3-headed King Nedra?? Where's Geri?







































[Image: qKHi38m.jpg]

...........this is so stupid.





"Kings (and Queen) of the Monsters" an Acockalypse Now Adventure





Voice amplifying magick. Everyone! I'm working up the return spell RIGHT NOW! In the meantime, play your roles as the Universe requires!


Mighty Moth Bitch shrieks. What the hell does that mean? Fight eachother?


Sad pathetic fuck stumbling around drunkly. Can someone tell me what to say here PLEASE? I- King Nedra's massive foot flattens him.


I swear that was Robert Main. I mean, obviously not THE Robert Main because that'd be cheating, but a reasonable facsimile.


Oh shit... Hey baby? When I asked if ya could bring everyone didja literally bring-


Everyone, yes.


Tiiiiiight. Let's KILLEM AAAAAAAALL!!!


King Nedra's three heads lower, maws wide, to the streets below to scoop up three chicks, one of 'em Shawn Warstein. The other two appear to be an ET with Impossibly small tits and a clown with a blue wig and NO XTREME TITLE. TROLOLOLOLOL. Fuck you Lycana.


No one can kick MY ass! Not without an overdose of children's Tylenol! I'm unSTOPPAB- Caedzilla squashes Marf with his mighty tail.


Hops out with his arms raised. SURPRISE!! And what a surprise it is as Charlie squishes between Caedzilla's reptilian toes.


Ready? Set? GOIN' HOME!


Yoink! King Dong plucks a pissy rain cloud Dolly Waters up and chows down. Tastes like failure. Oh and what have we here?


King Dong next snatches up a- Holy shit... -VERY heavy fat fuck somehow rappin' while simultaneously suckin' down any and all biteable matter in his proximity. Inexplicably, even the mighty monolith of monkey has a hard time lifting him. And when he DOES drop him into his mouth-


-he finds him impossible to swallow, rotund planetoid stuck firmly between his jaws.


Catches the action. Oh shit, Bobby "The 'Betes" Bourbon! Ha! Still darin' fate to take a foot off, 'ey fatass? Careful my Captain, he's a mouthful 'a dogshit.


Allow me.


Mighty Moth Bitch picks Bourbs from King Dong's mouth- nearly drops to the ground at warp speed -and has a helluva time flappin' him up to a nice height from whence she drops him-


-to a spectacular splatter below. Christ what a mess. She then turns her wings to a quintet of assholes (Chaos, NKWC, Estrada, Dixon and Oswald) and unleashes hurricane force winds, blasting them all across the city to smash through the walls of a distant Special Education schooling center.


Alias, perched atop a skyscraper, rubs his hands together enjoying the slaughter. Yeeeees. Eat them. Eat them all.


King Dong snatches him, dangling him above his yawning gorilla gape.


Hey! I've still got a thousand prewritten metaphorical masturbatory stories to upload!


Eat Alias. And he does so. Urp. Excuse me, that was incredibly filling with a hacky aftertaste. I guess quantity really can trump quality.


Hey gang the return spell is ready!


One more sec, love...


Caedzilla turns his attention to Thad, Fury and TK all arguing over who best can copy Caedus and unleashes a rainbow laser death sequence of his own-

















[Image: QwmHzTr.jpg]

-reducing them all to a cloud of carbon dust.


K, we can go.


With a FLASH, Acockalypse Now vanishes.


Dock and Corey look on, still among the living. As they high-five, they notice a curious shadow spreading across Victimville. Turning their attention to the heavens they spot a skyscraper teetering their way, with no escape, severed by Caedus's 'zilla breath.


Well...que sera sera, amirite?


FIN
∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆



Shit
[Image: S2fXjHB.gif]
Shredder







Marf... Did I hear you correctly? You can't wait to get your hands on THIS "mouthy fuck in a non-poisoned state of mind"?


Thaaaaat's right, pussy. Keep remindin' us.


Everyone, just an FYI:

Marf is tougher than all of us. Marf can't WIN but in every other way he's better than us. We can't smash Marf's hard workin' head out 'is ass but HE can absolutely take a hard workin' Micheal Graves, a guy I personally know is tougher than Marf, to squash city. If anyone ever slaughters Marf it's 'cause he was poisoned.

Not an off night for him.

Not any of us bein' at our best.

Poison.

Do I make myself clear!?



Hey Marf?


How many times have you had your balls sad empty nutsac handed to you here? It didn't "take the full match" to beat you, APEX just wanted to enjoy beatin' on you before beatin' you. And fuck a "fraction of a man", you consistently lose while at 100%, prick.


We all kick your ass all the time, who needs poison to put YOU down?


Y- ? You- ? You actually think anyone needs anything other than to be drawin' breath to beat you down? Not to mention: WHY? Why poison YOU when you've been such a fantastically submissive slit for the roster, the groupie gash we all stretch and pass? You're fine the way you are sweetie, we LIKE when you struggle and you always make us laugh when you find comfort in the fact you're a jobbin' bitch by choice who "don't care 'bout wins and just likes to hurt people".


Now shut the fuck up and get back on all fours you credless loser, as your Alpha I command you! I'M the one mountin' a 'Cana associated with your Dissentients circle, not you. Get the fuck on your hands and knees in the middle of our War Games ring and wait there quietly for your Alpha to arrive and the penetration to begin, bitch.


I own you.


In fact, I own all 'a you in Charlie's army. You unbelievably spineless pack 'a pissants, you and everyone else pullin' the ammo embargo shit on me displays how afraid you all are to get into it. Idgaf that you're all gonna get to it in round 2- and you certainly are -the statement's already been made:



The Carnies are cowards for Caedus.



And why not?


Who's the real ringmaster here by comparison?


- I already put you AND your hairy magick mammy down, Marf.

- Main, in Leap of Faith 2017 while you were throwin' a bitch fit at the bottom I was kickin' Chaos's clit from the rafters to win the match. Hell with how long ago it was, you ain't nowhere near the titan you were then.

- Dolly, despite your best efforts it wasn't you walkin' away with the briefcase in Lethal Lottery 4, it was me. And like with Main, it don't really matter how long ago that was, you ain't been the same Dolly since.

- And finally, your captain Charlie I just choked the fuck out in Central Park for the K-O win.


If I were any 'a you, I'd be tremblin' too.


Still...I can't help but feel disappointed when ya finally took your shots KNOWIN' I came at you and ya gotta catch up now...


Dolly, ya seem to understand pretty well what I'm sayin' despite the usual desperate horseshit you and everyone else likes to claim about me. I'm off my meds, limp-dick diatribes (mind not legit verbatim usin' my style?), saaaaaaame ol' shit while you whine about people sayin' the same ol' shit. I won't own what, Doll', rapin' opponents with my laceratin' linguistics ya butthurt Kentucky fried fuck-up? Don't hate me, hate yourself for not tryin' harder, honkey hack. Own bein' crazy? Where tf you been bitch? I mean besides swingin' from my nuts in your cold starts before I flicked you fleas from my sac.


No one gotta "copy" shit unless their names are Robert Main, Dolly Waters, RL Edgar and Thunder Knuckles. And we ALL know that's the case. You wanna stop the attacks on your hiatuses typical Waters flake outs? Stop flakin' out, pussy. Simple. Soon as you stop providin' the ammo, we'll all stop nailin' you on it ya peckerwood weak link.


You accusin' me of imaginin' APEX thinks 'a me as a traitor betrays just how little you pay attention...y'know, to that whole graveyard bit a few Warfares back in which my loyalties fell into question...like a perceived traitor. Lol. Perhaps if you spent less time brainstormin' your next brilliant excuse for dippin' out and put more time into researchin' shit that seems to have leaked out the crack in Main's skull, ya might have somethin' valid to hit me with.


You never left the XWF of your own accord, ya left because I spoiled your self-proclaimed "Dolly's time" in LL4. I showed you the door and booted your ass the fuck out. You were never the same after that, never on fire like ya were before I pissed all over your self-absorbed belief the Lottery was aaaaaaall about you and your very Charlie Nickles-like lameass surprise reveal that Buronan was Dolly (is it any wonder Waters are known to work with Nickles now? Pick a hero who ain't a proven loser Char). All that effort. All the lies. They amounted to Caedus killin' your momentum and heart. Oh, and a participation award with the 3-way SOTM. 'Cause if Dolly don't get a pat on the head she'll break into tears and bawl backstage.


And FTR, Main came off the draft first because Charlie is a dipshit cunt who thought it meant an auto win for your team. Pretty sure ain't no one gonna call that an empty accusation save for a pack 'a pissants known for dickless denial.


Everything about you and your history, much like your unc' RL, is a clusterfuck to the nth degree. Remember Ally Worsted? That was a humdinger... I kicked Ally Worsted's no-showin' ass too you "ingenious" wielder of anagrams. You shoulda stayed as supporting cast for Continuum, cracker cumdumpster, you're more outta your mind and unable to keep up with reality now than you ever were.


Face it, you just suck at this Dolly and you rarely finish anything. Start now and finish your career. Retire. For good. Or I swear to God I'll end it for you.


Again.


And speakin' 'a asshats in need 'a retirement...


'Ey Bob-O.





Question...


Why is it whenever you have a new partner your trash talk changes in kind? It's like since Cataclysm 90% 'a the time (we'll go ahead and ignore that amazing shit you shot at Thad in your third promo before Warfare) when solo you swing the basic boilerplate Robert Vain coma-triggerin' twattery but when you have a partner or partners, suddenly you're a lot more coherent, colorful and killer. Page apparently seems to feel the same way about you.


Jam that middle finger I know you're flippin' up your ass, it's more apt; you clearly fuck yourSELF.


You forgot who tf you were before I ever came back and I've watched you essentially fucktard around parroting whomever you're closest to in the moment, ya monkeyass marionette.


I wanna say I appreciate your lack of attack but you didn't do it for me. You did it for you. Coward. You didn't wanna rile me up and unleash the hell I'd bring (and you failed btw). You were willin' to let your team take me on FOR you (what a FUCKIN' shock) and for that they should be kickin' your ass while you snooze through promos.


Sleepin' on me.


Literally.


You'll regret that...and ya most likely already do because-


UT OOOOOOOOHS... The Mainiac is channelin' The Monstrosity!!


Anyone but concrete Robert Main 'cause let's face it, Robert Main can't handle anything but his own miniscule fetus phallus. Jimmy Caedus never had to be anyone but 'imself. YOU Bob-0 (not O, ZERO), you gotta cook with someone else's spices bc you're as flavorless as wet white rice. Your greatest successes in the XWF revolved 'round my absence seein' as you can't shine with me beside ya. You SOUND better...but you damn sure don't shine.


Never blamed anyone but myself for my fuck-ups you incompetent ignorANUS. Keep tryna twist shit to sound good though, I'm as untouchable to your criticisms as originality is laissez-faire for you.


Tell ya what Robert...regardless 'a what happens in War Games, afterwards ol' Jimbo here is STILL gonna be available to support you in EVERY. WAY. I told ya, this is strictly business. It ain't my fault you fucked up. It's yours ya botchin' bitch.


Period.


Own it like I own you.


For now...


I promise I'm gonna cut those puppet strings and garrote you with 'em 'til I've severed that balloon head clean off and kick it to heights you'll never again experience.


For my team. For my captain.


And speakin' 'a captains...


Didja call me "old timer" Cap'n Cuck?


[Image: SJaoCtX.gif]


Lol, stfu.


03-03-1979 is your birthday Charlie. You're older than I am and you look like it. Imagine that, an asshole teamin' with Waters after Waters and has problems keepin' track 'a dates and ages. You're 42 but you look 70 in your Thrax promo reveal and B&W photos don't help your case, old man. Keep referrin' to me as old timer though you cocksucker, it totally works. Your trigger attempts are as laughable as Rel quitting in response to you announcin' another surprise for her on Warfare...the same Warfare in which I legit knocked you unconscious. Boy, I hope that surprise wasn't s'posed to be YOU defeatin' ME for HER.


SURPRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!! TROLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!


Jesus H for "Holy-cuck-Chuck'll-never-fuck" cunnyless Christ, your career in the XWF is a dropping Blue Blazer on infinite loop. How DARE you bring that image to our minds- now I'm REALLY gonna get savage on you in the match. Best thing about it is, I can flat out kill you and you'll just reincarnate and pop up later like whack-a-mole pack-a-hole for us all to keep ballin' so it ain't murder!


You don't scare me Charles. Ya never would've, ya never will...and when Acockalypse Now has survived your Carnie cuckolds you'll finally start to understand who should be fearin' who here.


And on the subject 'a my team...


I've heard a whole lotta limpdickery out there, people avoidin' aimin' ammo my way and cuttin' on Acockalypse Now in the process as if we ain't shit and "poor Jim stuck with that lineup".


I'm sendin' each and every one 'a you that said that a portion 'a the C Diff. ice cream I have in my freezer. With any luck you'll all be shitting all over eachother at War Games, Crimson Dong will appear, spontaneously joy-detonate and take you all to fecal Hell with him.


To be aligned with Dick Powers and his disquiet riot of a mouth like an alliGator guttin' you all is an honor. Geri Vayden, former Shooting Star Champ, clap-backin' ball-buster, an honor. Nedly Kaye, two time Hart Champion and former APEX PROPHECY MEMBER...an honor. Not to mention, a fraternal bond in the making.


We may not be jackin' off with "not at all old hat" kidnapping antics while Main sleeps the rest of his career away waitin' for cue cards, or droppin' super insightful and intimidating metaphors about mugs (led by "thoroughbred" big fish bully Captains über pussy enough to target guppies like Andre Dixon as opposed to opponents more on his level. Psh...pathetic sociopathic bitch, you forgot your shame and class when you came outta the closet), or a team with Chris Chaos ('nuff said), or a team with Reggie Estrada ('nuff said), or a team outweighin' the rest of us combined by a metric ton 'a diabetes, swagger-jackin', fake beltS (hell yeah Big D, fuck Fury) and the vacuum 'a talent and personal hygiene that is Money Oswald...but at least we ain't all 'a the above.


We also ain't the two teams with such stupendous cohesion they lost a draft pick and re-upped with toxic caustic cunts like that geriatric jag-off sCent of a Gassy Asshole- HOO AH -and Atty's toddler dicked, APEX disrespectin', fugazi gladiator- by which I mean


BIG FUZZY PUSSY


-ex, Shawn "I can't handle ? women" Warstein. Ding.


Nah, we're Acockalypse Now.


Win or lose, we're stiff competition and we'll be buttfuckin' Faptastic four-flushers for sure.


XXXDXIXEXXXDXIXCXKXHXEXAXDXSXXX]]> <![CDATA[Off With Their Heads]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41536 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 23:37:51 -0700 Lycana]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41536


Despite mutterings of 'fleabags' from Atara, it had all gone amazingly well during the training session with the wolves. They had worked together like a well oiled unit, flowing together with an ease that defied all the odds. She had been pleased, her hope sparked for the strength of the team. They were coming together.

And then it had all gone to hell with a single sentence from Betsy. 

Atty had called off her participation in War Games and left Estrada's Angels high and dry. 

Lycana had felt the anger kicked to life deep within her, struggled to not rail against fate, and somehow… had won. Her voice emerging just a little harsher than her usual when she had posed her questions to Betsy. And then… the real shock, an atomic explosion following on the heels of the Atara Bomb.

Shawn Warstein.

She had literally had no dealings with him personally.  Had heard quite a lot though, and had quietly observed when he was around, to see what the hype and rumors were all about. Her opinion? Neutral waters with him. He was as solid as an iceberg and just as cold with outsiders.  She wasn't going to convince him of her intentions during their short time as teammates. At least not fully. There were already faint cracks in the barrier between them, all she needed was time and to uphold her promises.

And she always did.

But time was precious… and running out. 

Either way, she would go the lengths to have his back. Just like she would with the others on her team. Regardless if she had no interactions, like the two. Or of their colorful history. She quietly stares out the window, alone with a camera after the meeting.

"Most would assume that Betsy has something to worry about within these Games, given the past we have with one another. From the most bitter of enemies wanting nothing more to destroy one another, to an unwilling intrigue... a fascination, to a tentative bonding over things beyond our ken... to now. A rock solid unshakeable bond for our team. Betsy might not have known it fully when she picked me first to be on her team... but she does now. My loyalty runs deep... and she has it in full. We are not coming to this with the past riding on our shoulders, we are heading in with a common goal... to destroy BOB and make our way to the final round of War Games. A few bumps are to be expected, especially with such random dealings usually... and even with the exit of Atara... we gained someone who I have less of a reason to distrust in Shawn........."


"You know it looks like Papa Smurf finished in your hair right?"

But apparently the same thoughts might not run the other way.

Lycana cuts her eyes towards Warstein, doing an admirable job keeping her face neutral, and not rolling her eyes. She should probably get some kind of award or something. "I don't often think about Smurf cum." [/color][color=#FFFFFF]she remarks drily, shifting her body to face him as the two come face to face with one another. "You know we should at least pretend to get along until this is over right?"

His eyebrow arches upwards ever so slightly. "I’m aware. I could’ve said something much, much worse." Lycana inclines her head in acknowledgment. That was true. She had heard him before, during his time back. "You're right." she admits. "Look, I meant what I said. I know you have no reason to trust me fully, we have no history. But I intend to prove myself. Especially to Bets. You're a part of the team now, and so that extends to you." Her lips quirk upwards in a slight smile. "We can be assholes to each other as soon as it's over if you'd like?" A lilting bit of humor changes her tone.

"We'll see Blue." he replies, perhaps the tiniest glint in his eye.

Before she can respond, Betsy and Reggie appear back in the room, the former slanting a sideways look at Warstein and the Dark Vixen of Violence, but holding her tongue. Lycana backs away, moving towards the table as the Impossible Traveler diverts from her original path and meets her there.

"Everything good?" her low, melodious voice comes softly to Lycana's ears, as she glides to a halt beside her. Silvery blue eyes meet with glittering emeralds, a scenario so familiar it pulls a grin onto their faces. "Yeah, surprisingly." her eyes drift back to Shawn for a moment. It would be. The undercurrent had shifted. An understanding had been reached. Something big would have to happen to cement it... but the potential was there. "I think he's gonna be my new bestie." she quips with a mischievous expression.

An inelegant series of snorts emerges from Betsy as she struggles not to choke on her dubious laughter. "That's... something I think I need to see. People don't understand how Shawn and I function together; could you imagine the two of you working cohesively?" Her words become strangled at the end as she dissolves into barely contained laughter once more. It subsides as her face grows serious, looking between the two once again. "Actually... That'd be kinda perfect about now."

"It will... as long as he accepts what I've said. Or I prove it outright." Lycana shrugs, her own grin slowly fading to nothing. "Its going to be... interesting to say the least. But with all the work we put in....." she let's her voice trail off, giving Betsy an uncharacteristic hug, albeit brief. "We've
got this."

____________________________________

"Where does one even start with all the absolute slop you BOBbies put out? A full on tidal wave of whiny babble, empty threats, yawn inducing rhymes, and raw sewage. How about with the most useless among you...

Don't get too excited TK....

I'm talking about you Ozzy.

You open your mouth and cant help the utter torrent of shit that falls out. Star of the Month...TWICE! Only five YEARS apart you say? How incredible. Allow me to fall all over myself in wonder. Worked SO hard but never got title shots? So embarassing they didnt even really want to give you a chance to represent the company. So you had a little pity party badge made up in an effort to make your shrinky dink dick feel more substantial than a gumdrop? D'awww... how sweet. And if I want it I can come take it you say?

I can Ozzy.

With fucking ease.

Because you are nothing but a lackluster afterthought that nobody, not even your own fucking teammates wants around. Thst was made obvious when you were their last choice... shit Oz, others from your cesspool society were scooped up before you. You ended up where you were because Fury didnt have much choice.

I don't want that sweat stained piece of garbage around your waist... you can practically see the stink lines radiating from in. But since you mentioned it...

Yeah... maybe I will take it. Just for shits and giggles.

How about we set ourselves a nice little date? I'm sure any of the people I had planned on facing on the coming Warfares would be glad to step aside just for the laughs of watching your derpy ass get rolled just like your notleader Page. You think you have even a quarter of his talent? Pft. You're just the empty skulled, deep pocketed loser they keep around because they know they can keep using your oblivious ass like the pathetic pawn you are.

Glad you opened your mouth, bitch?

Speaking of bitches... Hey my precious TK. I just cant resist coming to you next. I think my favorite thing you said was something along the lines of not getting stuck with an autistic pup, amirite?(hey thanks Jimmy, at least I give credit when I steal shit)Well hell... that's WORLDS AWAY better than giving birth to a giant shriveled cock with a mullet, that cannot fucking speak to save his life. No brains rattling around in that skull to get cracked like Mains walnut eh? You can take a few slams of a bat to the head and there would be no change. Might improve your face though. When did I ask you for a singles? Oh I dont know... only EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I. FACED. A. BOB. For fucking months now. Telling you I was coming for your ass especially. Did you.... did you just think I actually thought you were special?

Oh damn...

You're especially fucking .

Does that count?

What the everlasting fuck do you think 'coming for each of you one at a time' means?

I dont know Lycana... that's too many words together at a time for me to understand. My IQ is only about a fourteen on a good day when Bourbs is around to explain it all to me.... other wise I single digit that shit.

You dont have to show how moronic you are to the world EVERY time you try and speak you know.... its was BRUTUS who killed Caesar you numbskull, not fucking JUDAS. Good lord. You should just sit your ass down and do what you do best, drool down the front of yourself and let Bourbon just spout off his sleep inducing rhymes like the reject you are. Better than just trying to mimic everyone around you that you take a sudden shine to... Reminds me of another main character around these parts...

Gee... who are you trying to be this time, Knuckles? Is that Caedus's cock you're cradling in that slack jaw of yours?

Your promo only looks like you sat and studied it, practiced in the mirror a few dozen times... and it still came out nothing but contrived crap. Face it, you'll always be nothing but a second rate piece of shit TK... you'll never hold an ounce to Caedus, no matter how hard you try to emulate him. You didnt even TRY to make it unique. You just said oh hey, that sounds funny! And you just spit it out verbatim. It's not really that hard hitting when it was JUST used... and by much better.

And he still barely got by me.

What do you gain by slobbing on his knob?

Nothing you dumb fuck... You give everyone else AMMO when you sit and compliment. Hey, remember that little match with Avalanche not too long ago? I do! What was it you said?

"It was obvious from fucking jump street that Lycana was the serious threat..."

Let's stop right there and save the second part of that shall we?

You can sit there and try to say that I've fallen all you want... you fucking know damn well that I will eat you alive without batting a damn eyelash. So how about we revisit that whole... calling you out business? Shall I make it crystal fucking clear so that even the brain the size of a grain of sand, yours... I'm feeling quite generous... can comprehend it?

Your fucking ass is mine, one on one, whenever you decide you arent the biggest pussy next to Demos' gaping ass. How long will that take? I'm expecting to wait awhile... your sad empty little sack will need an awful lot of sucking from your cohorts to plump up enough.

"....she pinned Page to the mat."

Oh, but wait... everyone can do that right? Just not all the people who came to face him during that ten month in a row streak right? They just dont count. We will just pretend they dont exist. They're just a figment of everyone's imagination.

Like your talent.

Hiya Bourbs! Good to see you still have absolutely NONE of that in the rhyming department. Anyone can put words together that sound alike, but not everyone can do it in a hard hitting way... or a way that makes sense. Or a way that doesnt make the listener feel like the awkward pity smile is frozen on their face in embarrassment.

You... you're not one of those.

Paint drying... and TK thought it was good enough to scoop up and use this go round. Damn Bourbs... you two really ARE desperate to win... so desperate you're scraping the dregs at the bottom of the barrel for insults. I guess you're pretty hungry to see your names pushing through to the end.

What am I saying!? Of course you are!

Your blimp ass is ALWAYS hungry!

Enough to liken me to chocolate ice cream... because of course you did. Everything revolves around food with you, you sloppy fucking HUTT. Chocolate... tasty but lacking hmm? Let's be real, you wouldnt pass up on that, or strawberry or vanilla either. Youd fucking inhale both them and the damn carton it came in like Kirby.

You are another master at biting yourself in your own ass... shocking with how far you have to reach around to get at it.

Possibly not so shocking because you probably see each cheek as a pile of large curd cottage cheese... but hey...

"Lycana has proven to be a devastating threat..."

You're damn fucking right with that... for once.

You of all should know very well that I dont give a shit what size you are, I can still take you down. You've been on the receiving end plenty of times in our hellacious- your word! Matches. So save your fucking breath saying that you are so big and so strong. Nobody gives a shit. You're just as beatable as your average size wrestler. I mean, have you met Chris Chaos?

I am a threat in that ring... and I'm coming fully focused and ready to fucking destroy you. 'Unhindered' by Marf, as you seem to think I am. I'll give credit where its due... at least you have the balls to announce why none of you are willing to face me in singles so brazen and openly.

Can you lend some to TK or....?

Or maybe I'll just say a big fuck you and come visit that TV title you just got your sausage fingers on... just to be the bitch you all say I am.

Right Fury?

Oh to be such a self righteous twat like you.

Why haven't I come for you so hard, just mentioning it instead? Well that's super easy to answer sweetheart... I've been busy handling a bunch of matches of more importance than you will ever be... you know, like the one where you watched me cradle up your raisin sacked, flabmaster lover... destroying his run he was so proud of. You remember, right?

I simply haven't had the opportunity to have a nice, easy week with you! But of course I didnt want you to think I forgot about your sour cunt.

Oooh BOB is the only common thread with you and Betsy...

Umm... you have your head that firmly buried up Pages ass that you miss everything going on around you?

Bets and I have had threads in common for fucking MONTHS, including our recent discovery of things in common during Leap of Faith. Did Daddy forget to tell you that? Awww... silly Page. Maybe he was just saving it for himself and that little rematch he wants so bad... since you know, my first was just a fluke. Right Page? He does have a history of hanging out his own to dry when its convenient for him after all. Not sorry anymore Atty! Fuck off.

My singles run has been crushed huh? Funny... considering I haven't started it back up. Hope you're ready to eat those words faster than Bourbs makes it through a buffet line. I DO want to run my way right through all of BOB. One. At. A. Damn. Time. I've already handled Page, the rest of you will be pie. Care to be the first slice?

You see Fury, I really am the ravenous fucking wolf. I dont fear you. I dont give a shit what methods BOB uses... i just dont fucking like you. I have literally said your breach of loyalty is what started all this. Your betrayal of the Left Hand which... again, you dumbass... I HAVE NOT BEEN A MEMBER OF FOR MONTHS. Shittttt... you are even more oblivious to the fucking world than Main. That takes some skill, guess you can add that one to your list under ass kissing Page.

Hey Main, you ever fucking notice what I said to you?

Will you even fucking notice this?

Probably not.

Useless cunt.

Guess you two have that in common too Fury...

You think that I wont come for you? You want a show to prove that I truly want to eat you harder than Alias tried -and failed- to Eat Lycana? Expect it. Start watching your fucking back. Every single goddamn second. I'll let you know when I'm good and ready.

Now run to papa and tell him the big mean wolf will gladly meet him again... after she and Estrada's Angel's make all his little piggies squeal for mercy in the Games.

Right on down to Dixon... the other outcast of the Elite.

Nobody is safe.

Not fucking Thad, grabbing Doc for dear life hoping he can hold him afloat just one more time like he did in High Stakes.

Not Doc... burdened down with the weak link of Continuum clutching at his coattails.

Not Corey... starting his swan dive back down from the top... although nothing has been more beautiful to witness.

Not Alias who has has already tasted the flames.

Not Robert 'Don't let go of my hand' Main.

Not Caedus... who will never get another chance to slip by, by the skin of his teeth.

Not BOB.

NOBODY.

We are coming to take it all...

THE REBELLIOUS.

THE WOLF.

THE UNSTOPPABLE LEGEND.

THE IMPOSSIBLE.

And fuck all the rest of you."]]>


Despite mutterings of 'fleabags' from Atara, it had all gone amazingly well during the training session with the wolves. They had worked together like a well oiled unit, flowing together with an ease that defied all the odds. She had been pleased, her hope sparked for the strength of the team. They were coming together.

And then it had all gone to hell with a single sentence from Betsy. 

Atty had called off her participation in War Games and left Estrada's Angels high and dry. 

Lycana had felt the anger kicked to life deep within her, struggled to not rail against fate, and somehow… had won. Her voice emerging just a little harsher than her usual when she had posed her questions to Betsy. And then… the real shock, an atomic explosion following on the heels of the Atara Bomb.

Shawn Warstein.

She had literally had no dealings with him personally.  Had heard quite a lot though, and had quietly observed when he was around, to see what the hype and rumors were all about. Her opinion? Neutral waters with him. He was as solid as an iceberg and just as cold with outsiders.  She wasn't going to convince him of her intentions during their short time as teammates. At least not fully. There were already faint cracks in the barrier between them, all she needed was time and to uphold her promises.

And she always did.

But time was precious… and running out. 

Either way, she would go the lengths to have his back. Just like she would with the others on her team. Regardless if she had no interactions, like the two. Or of their colorful history. She quietly stares out the window, alone with a camera after the meeting.

"Most would assume that Betsy has something to worry about within these Games, given the past we have with one another. From the most bitter of enemies wanting nothing more to destroy one another, to an unwilling intrigue... a fascination, to a tentative bonding over things beyond our ken... to now. A rock solid unshakeable bond for our team. Betsy might not have known it fully when she picked me first to be on her team... but she does now. My loyalty runs deep... and she has it in full. We are not coming to this with the past riding on our shoulders, we are heading in with a common goal... to destroy BOB and make our way to the final round of War Games. A few bumps are to be expected, especially with such random dealings usually... and even with the exit of Atara... we gained someone who I have less of a reason to distrust in Shawn........."


"You know it looks like Papa Smurf finished in your hair right?"

But apparently the same thoughts might not run the other way.

Lycana cuts her eyes towards Warstein, doing an admirable job keeping her face neutral, and not rolling her eyes. She should probably get some kind of award or something. "I don't often think about Smurf cum." [/color][color=#FFFFFF]she remarks drily, shifting her body to face him as the two come face to face with one another. "You know we should at least pretend to get along until this is over right?"

His eyebrow arches upwards ever so slightly. "I’m aware. I could’ve said something much, much worse." Lycana inclines her head in acknowledgment. That was true. She had heard him before, during his time back. "You're right." she admits. "Look, I meant what I said. I know you have no reason to trust me fully, we have no history. But I intend to prove myself. Especially to Bets. You're a part of the team now, and so that extends to you." Her lips quirk upwards in a slight smile. "We can be assholes to each other as soon as it's over if you'd like?" A lilting bit of humor changes her tone.

"We'll see Blue." he replies, perhaps the tiniest glint in his eye.

Before she can respond, Betsy and Reggie appear back in the room, the former slanting a sideways look at Warstein and the Dark Vixen of Violence, but holding her tongue. Lycana backs away, moving towards the table as the Impossible Traveler diverts from her original path and meets her there.

"Everything good?" her low, melodious voice comes softly to Lycana's ears, as she glides to a halt beside her. Silvery blue eyes meet with glittering emeralds, a scenario so familiar it pulls a grin onto their faces. "Yeah, surprisingly." her eyes drift back to Shawn for a moment. It would be. The undercurrent had shifted. An understanding had been reached. Something big would have to happen to cement it... but the potential was there. "I think he's gonna be my new bestie." she quips with a mischievous expression.

An inelegant series of snorts emerges from Betsy as she struggles not to choke on her dubious laughter. "That's... something I think I need to see. People don't understand how Shawn and I function together; could you imagine the two of you working cohesively?" Her words become strangled at the end as she dissolves into barely contained laughter once more. It subsides as her face grows serious, looking between the two once again. "Actually... That'd be kinda perfect about now."

"It will... as long as he accepts what I've said. Or I prove it outright." Lycana shrugs, her own grin slowly fading to nothing. "Its going to be... interesting to say the least. But with all the work we put in....." she let's her voice trail off, giving Betsy an uncharacteristic hug, albeit brief. "We've
got this."

____________________________________

"Where does one even start with all the absolute slop you BOBbies put out? A full on tidal wave of whiny babble, empty threats, yawn inducing rhymes, and raw sewage. How about with the most useless among you...

Don't get too excited TK....

I'm talking about you Ozzy.

You open your mouth and cant help the utter torrent of shit that falls out. Star of the Month...TWICE! Only five YEARS apart you say? How incredible. Allow me to fall all over myself in wonder. Worked SO hard but never got title shots? So embarassing they didnt even really want to give you a chance to represent the company. So you had a little pity party badge made up in an effort to make your shrinky dink dick feel more substantial than a gumdrop? D'awww... how sweet. And if I want it I can come take it you say?

I can Ozzy.

With fucking ease.

Because you are nothing but a lackluster afterthought that nobody, not even your own fucking teammates wants around. Thst was made obvious when you were their last choice... shit Oz, others from your cesspool society were scooped up before you. You ended up where you were because Fury didnt have much choice.

I don't want that sweat stained piece of garbage around your waist... you can practically see the stink lines radiating from in. But since you mentioned it...

Yeah... maybe I will take it. Just for shits and giggles.

How about we set ourselves a nice little date? I'm sure any of the people I had planned on facing on the coming Warfares would be glad to step aside just for the laughs of watching your derpy ass get rolled just like your notleader Page. You think you have even a quarter of his talent? Pft. You're just the empty skulled, deep pocketed loser they keep around because they know they can keep using your oblivious ass like the pathetic pawn you are.

Glad you opened your mouth, bitch?

Speaking of bitches... Hey my precious TK. I just cant resist coming to you next. I think my favorite thing you said was something along the lines of not getting stuck with an autistic pup, amirite?(hey thanks Jimmy, at least I give credit when I steal shit)Well hell... that's WORLDS AWAY better than giving birth to a giant shriveled cock with a mullet, that cannot fucking speak to save his life. No brains rattling around in that skull to get cracked like Mains walnut eh? You can take a few slams of a bat to the head and there would be no change. Might improve your face though. When did I ask you for a singles? Oh I dont know... only EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I. FACED. A. BOB. For fucking months now. Telling you I was coming for your ass especially. Did you.... did you just think I actually thought you were special?

Oh damn...

You're especially fucking .

Does that count?

What the everlasting fuck do you think 'coming for each of you one at a time' means?

I dont know Lycana... that's too many words together at a time for me to understand. My IQ is only about a fourteen on a good day when Bourbs is around to explain it all to me.... other wise I single digit that shit.

You dont have to show how moronic you are to the world EVERY time you try and speak you know.... its was BRUTUS who killed Caesar you numbskull, not fucking JUDAS. Good lord. You should just sit your ass down and do what you do best, drool down the front of yourself and let Bourbon just spout off his sleep inducing rhymes like the reject you are. Better than just trying to mimic everyone around you that you take a sudden shine to... Reminds me of another main character around these parts...

Gee... who are you trying to be this time, Knuckles? Is that Caedus's cock you're cradling in that slack jaw of yours?

Your promo only looks like you sat and studied it, practiced in the mirror a few dozen times... and it still came out nothing but contrived crap. Face it, you'll always be nothing but a second rate piece of shit TK... you'll never hold an ounce to Caedus, no matter how hard you try to emulate him. You didnt even TRY to make it unique. You just said oh hey, that sounds funny! And you just spit it out verbatim. It's not really that hard hitting when it was JUST used... and by much better.

And he still barely got by me.

What do you gain by slobbing on his knob?

Nothing you dumb fuck... You give everyone else AMMO when you sit and compliment. Hey, remember that little match with Avalanche not too long ago? I do! What was it you said?

"It was obvious from fucking jump street that Lycana was the serious threat..."

Let's stop right there and save the second part of that shall we?

You can sit there and try to say that I've fallen all you want... you fucking know damn well that I will eat you alive without batting a damn eyelash. So how about we revisit that whole... calling you out business? Shall I make it crystal fucking clear so that even the brain the size of a grain of sand, yours... I'm feeling quite generous... can comprehend it?

Your fucking ass is mine, one on one, whenever you decide you arent the biggest pussy next to Demos' gaping ass. How long will that take? I'm expecting to wait awhile... your sad empty little sack will need an awful lot of sucking from your cohorts to plump up enough.

"....she pinned Page to the mat."

Oh, but wait... everyone can do that right? Just not all the people who came to face him during that ten month in a row streak right? They just dont count. We will just pretend they dont exist. They're just a figment of everyone's imagination.

Like your talent.

Hiya Bourbs! Good to see you still have absolutely NONE of that in the rhyming department. Anyone can put words together that sound alike, but not everyone can do it in a hard hitting way... or a way that makes sense. Or a way that doesnt make the listener feel like the awkward pity smile is frozen on their face in embarrassment.

You... you're not one of those.

Paint drying... and TK thought it was good enough to scoop up and use this go round. Damn Bourbs... you two really ARE desperate to win... so desperate you're scraping the dregs at the bottom of the barrel for insults. I guess you're pretty hungry to see your names pushing through to the end.

What am I saying!? Of course you are!

Your blimp ass is ALWAYS hungry!

Enough to liken me to chocolate ice cream... because of course you did. Everything revolves around food with you, you sloppy fucking HUTT. Chocolate... tasty but lacking hmm? Let's be real, you wouldnt pass up on that, or strawberry or vanilla either. Youd fucking inhale both them and the damn carton it came in like Kirby.

You are another master at biting yourself in your own ass... shocking with how far you have to reach around to get at it.

Possibly not so shocking because you probably see each cheek as a pile of large curd cottage cheese... but hey...

"Lycana has proven to be a devastating threat..."

You're damn fucking right with that... for once.

You of all should know very well that I dont give a shit what size you are, I can still take you down. You've been on the receiving end plenty of times in our hellacious- your word! Matches. So save your fucking breath saying that you are so big and so strong. Nobody gives a shit. You're just as beatable as your average size wrestler. I mean, have you met Chris Chaos?

I am a threat in that ring... and I'm coming fully focused and ready to fucking destroy you. 'Unhindered' by Marf, as you seem to think I am. I'll give credit where its due... at least you have the balls to announce why none of you are willing to face me in singles so brazen and openly.

Can you lend some to TK or....?

Or maybe I'll just say a big fuck you and come visit that TV title you just got your sausage fingers on... just to be the bitch you all say I am.

Right Fury?

Oh to be such a self righteous twat like you.

Why haven't I come for you so hard, just mentioning it instead? Well that's super easy to answer sweetheart... I've been busy handling a bunch of matches of more importance than you will ever be... you know, like the one where you watched me cradle up your raisin sacked, flabmaster lover... destroying his run he was so proud of. You remember, right?

I simply haven't had the opportunity to have a nice, easy week with you! But of course I didnt want you to think I forgot about your sour cunt.

Oooh BOB is the only common thread with you and Betsy...

Umm... you have your head that firmly buried up Pages ass that you miss everything going on around you?

Bets and I have had threads in common for fucking MONTHS, including our recent discovery of things in common during Leap of Faith. Did Daddy forget to tell you that? Awww... silly Page. Maybe he was just saving it for himself and that little rematch he wants so bad... since you know, my first was just a fluke. Right Page? He does have a history of hanging out his own to dry when its convenient for him after all. Not sorry anymore Atty! Fuck off.

My singles run has been crushed huh? Funny... considering I haven't started it back up. Hope you're ready to eat those words faster than Bourbs makes it through a buffet line. I DO want to run my way right through all of BOB. One. At. A. Damn. Time. I've already handled Page, the rest of you will be pie. Care to be the first slice?

You see Fury, I really am the ravenous fucking wolf. I dont fear you. I dont give a shit what methods BOB uses... i just dont fucking like you. I have literally said your breach of loyalty is what started all this. Your betrayal of the Left Hand which... again, you dumbass... I HAVE NOT BEEN A MEMBER OF FOR MONTHS. Shittttt... you are even more oblivious to the fucking world than Main. That takes some skill, guess you can add that one to your list under ass kissing Page.

Hey Main, you ever fucking notice what I said to you?

Will you even fucking notice this?

Probably not.

Useless cunt.

Guess you two have that in common too Fury...

You think that I wont come for you? You want a show to prove that I truly want to eat you harder than Alias tried -and failed- to Eat Lycana? Expect it. Start watching your fucking back. Every single goddamn second. I'll let you know when I'm good and ready.

Now run to papa and tell him the big mean wolf will gladly meet him again... after she and Estrada's Angel's make all his little piggies squeal for mercy in the Games.

Right on down to Dixon... the other outcast of the Elite.

Nobody is safe.

Not fucking Thad, grabbing Doc for dear life hoping he can hold him afloat just one more time like he did in High Stakes.

Not Doc... burdened down with the weak link of Continuum clutching at his coattails.

Not Corey... starting his swan dive back down from the top... although nothing has been more beautiful to witness.

Not Alias who has has already tasted the flames.

Not Robert 'Don't let go of my hand' Main.

Not Caedus... who will never get another chance to slip by, by the skin of his teeth.

Not BOB.

NOBODY.

We are coming to take it all...

THE REBELLIOUS.

THE WOLF.

THE UNSTOPPABLE LEGEND.

THE IMPOSSIBLE.

And fuck all the rest of you."]]> <![CDATA[Now I am become Dick, destroyer of anuses]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41535 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 23:29:02 -0700 Richard Powers]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41535
Now I am become Dick, destroyer of anuses

I wake up like I do every morning, rock fucking hard and wiping your mom's cum from the corners of my mouth.

I'm back baby.

As I rest my arms behind the back of my brand new glorious locks my eyes looking to the morning sun, I can't help but think about how goddamn sweet my life is and the new friends I made. Geri Vayden, my final pick but always my First Mate, Lube-ilee, Black Wid-hoe, the cocaine in my blunt. Ned Kaye, my Manwhore-at-Arms, the ferocious but intelligent Breast, Cawk-eye, the percs to my molly. And Jim Caedus, Cummander-in-Queef, the strong Urethra, the god that is Twhore! The only man I know with a nastier mouth than me. My SEX-men, my ASSvengers! ... My friends and people I am happy to go to war with. And anywhere else for that matter. I gently remove Arcana's arm off my chest and smoothly move over Jim who sleeps soundly in my bed. I then move around the piles of hot bodies and sex toys like the floor is covered in Lego and my whole ass is one bare, freshly moisturized foot. Somewhere Tommy Wish just popped a boner. I swipe a silk kimono fr4om my dresser and tip-toe my way downstairs; a coffee and breakfast cognac await for me as I enter my study. Oh, did I not mention my study in the past? Well, allow me to show you around. I'm sure you can notice the climbing wall of dildos as well as the mounted trophy of pornstar Jenna Jameson, don't threat, it's not real. Maybe. I recline on my red leather sofa and grab the coffee made from the purest Columbian beans you ever did see; I speak softly and delicately into your pricked ears.

"My finger is teasing that big red button ready to drop a nuke, just playfully rubbing that clit."

I sip from the diamond-encrusted mug. Yes, baby, diamond-encrusted.

"Speaking of something Charlie has never been able to find, have you found a point to showing up to the pay-per-view yet, sweet-pea? I mean, while you had to force your team to work together by dragging them to a gimmick, I just asked. Y'know, like a human being. I guess the only way you can actually get a reaction out of people is by forcing them into it. Meanwhile, Acockalypse Now showed up to prom, fucked the prom queen and dipped before they found out we spiked the punch. So, what have you actually done for this match? You have caused mistrust in your team by doing some mega-fuckery, or is the twist it was another one of your personas? Speaking of, where the fuck was the spooky clown, Charles!? I was really looking forward to that! Did you watch my promo and decide to shelve that idea? I mean I know you watched my promo how else would you have a comeback for what I said about Dolly. Right? Man, for someone who is apparently so much more seasoned than me you sure look greener than an Irishman's first shit after St Patrick's day right now. I guess if I announce now that I will be the first entrant for my team you're gonna swap from last to first just to prove some kind of point, yeah? Man, you are more predictable than me making a sex pun. At least what I do is fucking good."

Another sip and I sit up, pouring some of the cognac into the mug.

"Like, you were gonna save me til last in your promo but saw me stick two fingers up your ass and tickle your prostate and double-backed like a pussy. I fully admit what I'm about in my promo and you don't have an attack on me anymore, just reiterate that I make dick jokes. Good one! Did you also see when I said I'm not a real wrestler? Because I'm not! I'm a major shareholder and fat-cocked rockstar, oh of course you didn't! Because you stopped watching after I finished talking about you! Silly me, thinking you actually have a fuck about the people you're teaming with, that's on me, that's my bad. So just to make it obvious to you now Charlie, I don't need to show up, I just do what I want and make more money than you could fathom, get more attention than you could dream of and I do it all better than some potato-looking cunt who has been here less than a year and is already washed-up. You don't want us to see the 'old' Demos? Mother fucker you are an infant! You are a small child playing pretend and that old Demos ran out of ideas quicker than Dolly runs out of the company. Oh my bad, she was getting her diploma or some shit, glad to see she's putting it to use by using small, easy-to-read words and hanging out with 3 cumrags who look like extras from a Sons of Anarchy porn parody." I stop very briefly and click my fingers "Sons of Anal-chy, shit I'm good."

"Mornin, Cap!"

Jim looking stunning in the morning glow appears in the doorway to my study.

"Hey, baby!"

"Whatcha doin'? Talkin' shit?"

"You know it."

Jim takes a look around the room.

"To who?"

"Oh there's cameras everywhere around this house." I raise my eyebrows. "E v e r y w h e r e ."

Jim chuckles as he nods his head.

"Niiiiiice, I'm gonna get drunk in ya pool, that cool?"

"Shit." I grab the cognac and toss it to Jim who catches that shit like a fuck-king champ. "Knock yourself out, I'll join you when I'm done."

Ceadus throws out a peace sign with a tip of the bottle and heads out; Hot damn, I hate seeing him go but love watching him leave. I look back.

"That was pretty cool how I didn't threaten someone I'm working with, shame not everyone is as cool as me. So, Charles, you rancid shit-filled condom, thank you for proving how inept you are at literally everything you try to do, it actually turns out I was wrong and you've been playing a clown in front of my very eyes this entire time. It's a damn good thing you're missing so many teeth so you can still show me a smile while you're choking on this big cock, maybe mumble out a 'thank you daddy' as I cum down your throat and let you just choke on potential. Might be the only enjoyment I get out of being in the same room as you, I'm guessing your last name is how much you charge by the hour, yeah? So, if you decide to put on the big boy pants and finally show up to the match don't bother wearing a belt, just slip em off and bend over so I can show you why I'm the real ringmaster of your circus."

I drink the rest of my coffee which has gotten colder than a Charlie Nickels crowd reaction.

"Let's move on to Main, fuck it, I saved him til last previously for some reason and he comes back proving what I already know. For how big and scary Main was, this bitch cannot spit shit to save his fucking life. Fuck, the entire team can't! The only time Charlie lets them out of their cages is to help with talking shit, like how limp-dicked is that? Felt like I was going through a revolving door watching that shit just instead of glass partitions it was just a jobber trying to be relevant. I mean shit, Rob, you were a Universal Champion and you need Bayou Barbie to trash for you? She put in more work than you've put into your promo in a fucking year, that with you relying on Drew and Jim all the time is just proving that you are not cut out for this game anymore, baby. Consider a manager role maybe? I think you're better suited for being the cuck in the chastity belt than the one shooting the money shot. I mean Charlie cucked you all when he made you think I kidnapped you."

I throw my arms up and shake my head.

"The fuck?"

I stumble through my words at the sheer idiocy.

"How fucking dumb could you cunts be? Did you not see me? I know fucking Charlie did he loves my promos; but I was bald and severely lacking mojo, in short, I had my own shit going on. How fucking are you all to think that, me, Dick Powers would kidnap people and take them to an abandoned carnival when you braindead fuck-ups are in a team called Charlie's Carnies!? Y'all dumb as fuck. The doctors didn't drop you they played fucking whack-a-mole on your momma's pussies... Speaking of pussies, back to Main who does the same thing as everyone else, I make dick jokes. Good one! Hey, shit-lord, remember when you stuck your dick in a toaster and that became a thing for a while?"

"Yeah?"

"That was pretty cool! Remember when you did something interesting and fun by yourself?"

"Yeah?"

"Well you're wrong because half of that was Page; like you burnt your cock and Page rode it to something halfway decent. Like how it's been ever since you lost the Hart title which was a long, long, long time ago. Now you have these losers carrying you and now you have nothing, you can see everything you truly are now, a little lost bitch who can't do shit if someone isn't holding his hand. People actually used to look up to you..."

"Marf... I watched your shit and still have no idea who you are but I'm sure you made mention that I say dick jokes, so.... Good one! Honestly, dude, you're cannon fodder. I look at you and I hear you but you are not the star, shit you're not even in the script. You're some writer locked in a cupboard that gets let out to pick up coffee before being pushed back down into your own personal pit of despair. It's sad, dude and anything I say won't matter because you're just... Marf... And you'll always be Marf... I've been around XWF a while, mostly on the business side and there's one cat you remind me of a lot, his name was Cain. Now, this dude was a edgy boy like Charlie but also had all this satanic demon bullshit going on too which is what you have? Maybe? Honestly, I don't know. Lycana is cool and she's into that... Or looks like she's into that? Man, I should really pay more attention, but I don't see the part when I can clearly tell the person in question has no future here. Anyway, back to someone more interesting, Cain was fairly liked, well-received for the most part and the man was a worker, just week in and week out, always trying new things, tried to see what stuck and just kept trying to climb that ladder. Good guy, mediocre wrestler. So yeah, he'd just do his thing, once every couple of months he'd step back evaluate how he was doing and then run back in with a head full of steam and continue this cycle over and over. Then one day, he just vanished. Just 'poof' and gone. And that was it, and this is more than likely the first time he's been mentioned in five years. That's who you remind me of Marf and that's how you're gonna end up. No climax, no fireworks, just a sad 'poof'."

"Hey, Dolly. The only thing I want to bring up is that you lost to me because you fucked up, you didn't care enough... Are you for real? Why is this different then? You've been kidnapped and tortured, got a dick tattooed on your mouth and this is making you care to beat me this time? Like I said before, that high school diploma is really coming in handy. Also as I've said, I do actually like you, I'll talk shit, yeah but I don't really want to. I destroyed your face and broke your heart, shit I even came to apologize that night and you are just acting like it didn't matter. That hurts, baby. You took the L when you only wanted the D, I see, but you trying to be the linchpin to make this team of yours work is just pathetic. No one cares about you guys! All eyes on us, baby! Everybody loves Dick and Dick loves everyone, they need Dick, they crave Dick, every DP promo just makes people's mouths water! Thanks for pointing out my initials by the way Charlie, I always thought was too subtle for people to get but you got that out in the open, brother! People love Jim, they want the best trash talk in the fed and Jim delivers. People love Ned, kinda, he's moody so y'know how it works, but tell me this, who has delivered the most interesting concepts that this fed has seen? Ned, that's fucking who. What the fuck has any of your team done to even measure up to one of Ned's bigger promos? Nah, y'all just like me, same shit, different promo I just have the balls to admit it and the charisma to carry it. Now Geri, like you said Doll, she's in and out as much as you but she goes to other promotions to win other titles... The fuck do you do?"

"Now you can bring your weak trash talk to me and I'll shake that off like jizz onto a face but you try that shit with my team when you have zero fucking idea what you're talking about then we're gonna have a problem, girl and I guran-fucking-tee you that no matter what motivation you have, all that drive and passion that you're lying about will still lead to your face driving into my knee and you staying still like a good little girl for the best 3 seconds of your miserable life."

"Now, you all know me, I'm Dick Powers, I say funny sex thing and peace out. But this time I actually have something to try for, shit, a few things. Stop the talentless hoes from getting a sniff at the main event, I get to actually fight Main instead of him running away like a Pomeranian off the lead and I don't want to let my friends down."

"Yeah, sappy right?"

"But what can I say, I'm just a good guy."

"Peace and love, and before I forget..."

you're welcum

]]>
Now I am become Dick, destroyer of anuses

I wake up like I do every morning, rock fucking hard and wiping your mom's cum from the corners of my mouth.

I'm back baby.

As I rest my arms behind the back of my brand new glorious locks my eyes looking to the morning sun, I can't help but think about how goddamn sweet my life is and the new friends I made. Geri Vayden, my final pick but always my First Mate, Lube-ilee, Black Wid-hoe, the cocaine in my blunt. Ned Kaye, my Manwhore-at-Arms, the ferocious but intelligent Breast, Cawk-eye, the percs to my molly. And Jim Caedus, Cummander-in-Queef, the strong Urethra, the god that is Twhore! The only man I know with a nastier mouth than me. My SEX-men, my ASSvengers! ... My friends and people I am happy to go to war with. And anywhere else for that matter. I gently remove Arcana's arm off my chest and smoothly move over Jim who sleeps soundly in my bed. I then move around the piles of hot bodies and sex toys like the floor is covered in Lego and my whole ass is one bare, freshly moisturized foot. Somewhere Tommy Wish just popped a boner. I swipe a silk kimono fr4om my dresser and tip-toe my way downstairs; a coffee and breakfast cognac await for me as I enter my study. Oh, did I not mention my study in the past? Well, allow me to show you around. I'm sure you can notice the climbing wall of dildos as well as the mounted trophy of pornstar Jenna Jameson, don't threat, it's not real. Maybe. I recline on my red leather sofa and grab the coffee made from the purest Columbian beans you ever did see; I speak softly and delicately into your pricked ears.

"My finger is teasing that big red button ready to drop a nuke, just playfully rubbing that clit."

I sip from the diamond-encrusted mug. Yes, baby, diamond-encrusted.

"Speaking of something Charlie has never been able to find, have you found a point to showing up to the pay-per-view yet, sweet-pea? I mean, while you had to force your team to work together by dragging them to a gimmick, I just asked. Y'know, like a human being. I guess the only way you can actually get a reaction out of people is by forcing them into it. Meanwhile, Acockalypse Now showed up to prom, fucked the prom queen and dipped before they found out we spiked the punch. So, what have you actually done for this match? You have caused mistrust in your team by doing some mega-fuckery, or is the twist it was another one of your personas? Speaking of, where the fuck was the spooky clown, Charles!? I was really looking forward to that! Did you watch my promo and decide to shelve that idea? I mean I know you watched my promo how else would you have a comeback for what I said about Dolly. Right? Man, for someone who is apparently so much more seasoned than me you sure look greener than an Irishman's first shit after St Patrick's day right now. I guess if I announce now that I will be the first entrant for my team you're gonna swap from last to first just to prove some kind of point, yeah? Man, you are more predictable than me making a sex pun. At least what I do is fucking good."

Another sip and I sit up, pouring some of the cognac into the mug.

"Like, you were gonna save me til last in your promo but saw me stick two fingers up your ass and tickle your prostate and double-backed like a pussy. I fully admit what I'm about in my promo and you don't have an attack on me anymore, just reiterate that I make dick jokes. Good one! Did you also see when I said I'm not a real wrestler? Because I'm not! I'm a major shareholder and fat-cocked rockstar, oh of course you didn't! Because you stopped watching after I finished talking about you! Silly me, thinking you actually have a fuck about the people you're teaming with, that's on me, that's my bad. So just to make it obvious to you now Charlie, I don't need to show up, I just do what I want and make more money than you could fathom, get more attention than you could dream of and I do it all better than some potato-looking cunt who has been here less than a year and is already washed-up. You don't want us to see the 'old' Demos? Mother fucker you are an infant! You are a small child playing pretend and that old Demos ran out of ideas quicker than Dolly runs out of the company. Oh my bad, she was getting her diploma or some shit, glad to see she's putting it to use by using small, easy-to-read words and hanging out with 3 cumrags who look like extras from a Sons of Anarchy porn parody." I stop very briefly and click my fingers "Sons of Anal-chy, shit I'm good."

"Mornin, Cap!"

Jim looking stunning in the morning glow appears in the doorway to my study.

"Hey, baby!"

"Whatcha doin'? Talkin' shit?"

"You know it."

Jim takes a look around the room.

"To who?"

"Oh there's cameras everywhere around this house." I raise my eyebrows. "E v e r y w h e r e ."

Jim chuckles as he nods his head.

"Niiiiiice, I'm gonna get drunk in ya pool, that cool?"

"Shit." I grab the cognac and toss it to Jim who catches that shit like a fuck-king champ. "Knock yourself out, I'll join you when I'm done."

Ceadus throws out a peace sign with a tip of the bottle and heads out; Hot damn, I hate seeing him go but love watching him leave. I look back.

"That was pretty cool how I didn't threaten someone I'm working with, shame not everyone is as cool as me. So, Charles, you rancid shit-filled condom, thank you for proving how inept you are at literally everything you try to do, it actually turns out I was wrong and you've been playing a clown in front of my very eyes this entire time. It's a damn good thing you're missing so many teeth so you can still show me a smile while you're choking on this big cock, maybe mumble out a 'thank you daddy' as I cum down your throat and let you just choke on potential. Might be the only enjoyment I get out of being in the same room as you, I'm guessing your last name is how much you charge by the hour, yeah? So, if you decide to put on the big boy pants and finally show up to the match don't bother wearing a belt, just slip em off and bend over so I can show you why I'm the real ringmaster of your circus."

I drink the rest of my coffee which has gotten colder than a Charlie Nickels crowd reaction.

"Let's move on to Main, fuck it, I saved him til last previously for some reason and he comes back proving what I already know. For how big and scary Main was, this bitch cannot spit shit to save his fucking life. Fuck, the entire team can't! The only time Charlie lets them out of their cages is to help with talking shit, like how limp-dicked is that? Felt like I was going through a revolving door watching that shit just instead of glass partitions it was just a jobber trying to be relevant. I mean shit, Rob, you were a Universal Champion and you need Bayou Barbie to trash for you? She put in more work than you've put into your promo in a fucking year, that with you relying on Drew and Jim all the time is just proving that you are not cut out for this game anymore, baby. Consider a manager role maybe? I think you're better suited for being the cuck in the chastity belt than the one shooting the money shot. I mean Charlie cucked you all when he made you think I kidnapped you."

I throw my arms up and shake my head.

"The fuck?"

I stumble through my words at the sheer idiocy.

"How fucking dumb could you cunts be? Did you not see me? I know fucking Charlie did he loves my promos; but I was bald and severely lacking mojo, in short, I had my own shit going on. How fucking are you all to think that, me, Dick Powers would kidnap people and take them to an abandoned carnival when you braindead fuck-ups are in a team called Charlie's Carnies!? Y'all dumb as fuck. The doctors didn't drop you they played fucking whack-a-mole on your momma's pussies... Speaking of pussies, back to Main who does the same thing as everyone else, I make dick jokes. Good one! Hey, shit-lord, remember when you stuck your dick in a toaster and that became a thing for a while?"

"Yeah?"

"That was pretty cool! Remember when you did something interesting and fun by yourself?"

"Yeah?"

"Well you're wrong because half of that was Page; like you burnt your cock and Page rode it to something halfway decent. Like how it's been ever since you lost the Hart title which was a long, long, long time ago. Now you have these losers carrying you and now you have nothing, you can see everything you truly are now, a little lost bitch who can't do shit if someone isn't holding his hand. People actually used to look up to you..."

"Marf... I watched your shit and still have no idea who you are but I'm sure you made mention that I say dick jokes, so.... Good one! Honestly, dude, you're cannon fodder. I look at you and I hear you but you are not the star, shit you're not even in the script. You're some writer locked in a cupboard that gets let out to pick up coffee before being pushed back down into your own personal pit of despair. It's sad, dude and anything I say won't matter because you're just... Marf... And you'll always be Marf... I've been around XWF a while, mostly on the business side and there's one cat you remind me of a lot, his name was Cain. Now, this dude was a edgy boy like Charlie but also had all this satanic demon bullshit going on too which is what you have? Maybe? Honestly, I don't know. Lycana is cool and she's into that... Or looks like she's into that? Man, I should really pay more attention, but I don't see the part when I can clearly tell the person in question has no future here. Anyway, back to someone more interesting, Cain was fairly liked, well-received for the most part and the man was a worker, just week in and week out, always trying new things, tried to see what stuck and just kept trying to climb that ladder. Good guy, mediocre wrestler. So yeah, he'd just do his thing, once every couple of months he'd step back evaluate how he was doing and then run back in with a head full of steam and continue this cycle over and over. Then one day, he just vanished. Just 'poof' and gone. And that was it, and this is more than likely the first time he's been mentioned in five years. That's who you remind me of Marf and that's how you're gonna end up. No climax, no fireworks, just a sad 'poof'."

"Hey, Dolly. The only thing I want to bring up is that you lost to me because you fucked up, you didn't care enough... Are you for real? Why is this different then? You've been kidnapped and tortured, got a dick tattooed on your mouth and this is making you care to beat me this time? Like I said before, that high school diploma is really coming in handy. Also as I've said, I do actually like you, I'll talk shit, yeah but I don't really want to. I destroyed your face and broke your heart, shit I even came to apologize that night and you are just acting like it didn't matter. That hurts, baby. You took the L when you only wanted the D, I see, but you trying to be the linchpin to make this team of yours work is just pathetic. No one cares about you guys! All eyes on us, baby! Everybody loves Dick and Dick loves everyone, they need Dick, they crave Dick, every DP promo just makes people's mouths water! Thanks for pointing out my initials by the way Charlie, I always thought was too subtle for people to get but you got that out in the open, brother! People love Jim, they want the best trash talk in the fed and Jim delivers. People love Ned, kinda, he's moody so y'know how it works, but tell me this, who has delivered the most interesting concepts that this fed has seen? Ned, that's fucking who. What the fuck has any of your team done to even measure up to one of Ned's bigger promos? Nah, y'all just like me, same shit, different promo I just have the balls to admit it and the charisma to carry it. Now Geri, like you said Doll, she's in and out as much as you but she goes to other promotions to win other titles... The fuck do you do?"

"Now you can bring your weak trash talk to me and I'll shake that off like jizz onto a face but you try that shit with my team when you have zero fucking idea what you're talking about then we're gonna have a problem, girl and I guran-fucking-tee you that no matter what motivation you have, all that drive and passion that you're lying about will still lead to your face driving into my knee and you staying still like a good little girl for the best 3 seconds of your miserable life."

"Now, you all know me, I'm Dick Powers, I say funny sex thing and peace out. But this time I actually have something to try for, shit, a few things. Stop the talentless hoes from getting a sniff at the main event, I get to actually fight Main instead of him running away like a Pomeranian off the lead and I don't want to let my friends down."

"Yeah, sappy right?"

"But what can I say, I'm just a good guy."

"Peace and love, and before I forget..."

you're welcum

]]> <![CDATA[Shart of Darkness]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41534 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 23:28:23 -0700 Richard Powers]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41534 ======λςΦςκλιφρ$Σ ηΦω======


Shart of Darkness


The California sun hangs low in the clear blue sky. Ned Kaye sits at the end of a stone dock looking down at the water below, he lazily skips small stones into the crashing waves beneath him. His eyes turn to approaching footsteps and he looks at Geri who adjusts her glance to the sea as Ned looks back; Kaye fiddles with the stone in his hands staring back at the water.

“Hey.”

“H- … Hi.”

A shock of red appears on Geri’s cheeks as she clears her throat.

“Our fearless leader invite you out here too?”

“Yeah… I know he bought a boat so I guess we’re doing Pirates of the Carribean now? Thought we were doing Avengers.”

Ned flicks the stone away and stands to his feet, placing his hands into his pockets.

“I think he just goes with whatever has the most innuendos.”

“Manwhore-at-arms is pretty funny.”

Geri gives a slight grin as Ned scoffs. The serene ambient noise is ruined by screeching tires and the rumble of a loud engine. The two on the dock look to the origin of the cacophonous clamor and see Jim Caedus and Arcana riding Ewrecktion (Jim's custom APEX Harley, knock it off ya filthy bastards) up to the dock. It rolls to a halt, the engine killed. Arcana hops off Jim's Ewrecktion, rubbing her sore ass as Jim swings a left leg over his ride and examines the two Acockalypse Now members from afar. He gives a wave as he and Arcana approach.

“Sup chucklefucks!”

Jim throws an arm over Arcana as they meet with Ned and Geri.

"Nedlyyyyyy!" Removes his arm from Arcana to swing the Nefarious One a high-powered side-five before turning to Vayden. "Geri, lookin' stunningly Eilish as usual. Up high!" Jim raises his hand for a high five, Geri doesn't move, doesn't smile, simply pinning him with a "die Jim" expression. Caedus drops his hand for a low five. "...Down low?" Geri moves to return the low fi- OOOOOOOOH, she nails Jim with a nut-check! Ned snorts, Geri cracks a smile, Jim doubles over in pained shock, laughing in good spirits. With a discomforted tone- "Jesus… Big ups on that one, Ger'!"

“Good to see my SEX-Men are bonding.”

The group turn to Dick Powers, looking gaunt and rolling up in a wheelchair. Jim emits a whistle-laugh in response to the name-game as the rest look defeated.

“And I, Professor SEX will guide you and prove why we are homo-superior when we go on our epic new adventure!”

There is a slight pause.

“So now it’s X-Men?”

“Dick.”

Powers points with a head tilt. Ned sighs.

“... Slambassador, why are you in a wheelchair?”

Dick crosses his legs.

“Needed to play the part dude, Cummander-in-Queef you get the stuff?”

“Aye aye, cap'n. Btw, LOVIN' the SEX-Men, I wanna be Urethra!”

"Urethra?"

"Yeah, the SEX-Men version 'a Cyclops."

"Duh, Arcana. Geri can be Lube-ilee and Ned, my loyal Breast!"

Ned looks like he wants to die as Dick touches his elbow.

"Arcana you're Jean Lay and your werewolf hooker coven sis LYcana is the blue-haired Yeast…...Infection. I mean it was obligatory. Anyway, the nugs Professor."

Dick thinks on how better Yeast Infection is than Breast but doesn’t mention it. Jim reveals a large bag of weed which shimmers with a magical shine and tosses it onto Dick’s lap.

“That shit'll make your hair grow back straight, might even give Ned a sense 'a humor.”

Jim laughs, playfully backhanding Ned’s chest.

“If we came here to get high and play nice, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Shit, I don’t.”

Geri grabs the bag from Dick and opens it, breathing in deeply as a smile creeps on her face. Arcana gives a smile.

“I may have enhanced it just a pinch.”

Ned rolls his eyes.

“Oh cool, magic drugs! Maybe if we plant it we’d get a magic cannabis plant that we could climb into the clouds.”

“... Doooooope! PLEASE tell me that'll happen sweets, will it!?”

Jim looks awestruck as Arcana shrugs, Ned shakes his head and starts to push past the group. Dick grabs his wrist.

“Wait, Ned! C’mon dude think of the big picture here, man. We ain’t gonna win at War Games if we don’t act like a team and teamwork means getting to know each other, having each other's backs and helping me fix my erectile dysfunction.”

Ned snatches his arm away from a frail Dick.

“I know teamwork. I’ve seen teamwork. This isn’t it, this is an excuse for you to get high and I refuse to be a part of it, it’s childish.”

“What if it helps you beat Main?”

Ned looks to Geri.

“Maybe… Maybe this could be the catalyst, we actually try and get to see how we get on outside of a match so that we can work better inside of a match.”

“Baby, we figure shit out we could bitch-slap Main’s beard into a goatee and you can finally get that satisfaction you crave.”

"Do me a favor Nedly; fuckstart fucktard's head and nut some genius jism in Bob-O's empty coconut 'fore ya split it so's he potentially crawls away with some modicum 'a talent. Lord knows I never rubbed off on 'im. ...I mean aside 'a jackin' off on 'is face while he slept."

The Nefarious One looks around, tapping his foot, his eyes darting between his teammates. With a heavy sigh he finally speaks.

“Fine.”

The group give a small cheer, Jim grabbing Ned’s shoulder, who gives a barely noticeable smile. Dick’s Casio calculator watch begins to beep.

“Oh shit! Get behind me my Sex-Men!”

Confused, the group do as he asks and Dick pulls out an umbrella to protect them all from a crashing wave that soaks the dock; Dick shakes the umbrella dry and puts it back away under his wheelchair. The team stand up straight staring in awe of the galleon that has appeared in front of them; Dick sits in a stoic pride and gestures to the ship.

“Behold, the DICK-Lorean!”

In amazement. "Great scott… Now THAT'S some engorgeous wood, Dick."

The words Moby Dick painted on the side of the vessel have been crudely covered and Dick-Lorean is written sloppily below. The gang stand in silence with their mouths agape. The gangplank is dropped from the boat and lands on the dock; a beautiful blonde woman in a lab coat begins to walk down to meet the team.

“Meet my test subject, I call her Einstein because she always be giving me brain.”

Dick throws up a hand for a high five. Jim, laughing his ass off, goes to meet it but Arcana pushes Caedus’ arm back down with a slow shake of her head. A little dejected, the high goes un-fived.

"Before we embark on our adventure...Capitan, I've a gift for ya. Baby?" Arcana poofs a top hat into existence and hands it to Jim. Jim reaches his hand inside, adopts a look of confusion, dips his arm down to the shoulder within the hat's inexplicable innards and finally pulls out-

"A parrot?"

"No Captain should be without one! What's your name lil' guy?"

"Raaaaaaaaawbert Main, Raaaaaaaaawbert Main! Raaaw! Tin foil hat! Power-drunk pissant! Where's the script!? Raaaw!"

"Yeah, he basically repeats what he hears or is told. He has no voice of his own. But hey, he IS a dumbass bird."

Rawbert Main flaps from Jim's hand to Dick's shoulder.

"Raaaw! I'm not a jobber, I was poisoned! Raaaw! Lord let me fuck one time! Just one time! Surpriiise! Raaaw! Dolly Waters is here to win! Meh, why try? Raaaw! Cup the balls! Cup the balls! Raaaw!"

"Cup the balls? Who'd he pick that up from?"

Arcana blushes. Jim offers a massive toothy grin. Dick pets the bird gently as a tear appears in his eye.

“I shall treasure him always, Jimmy.”

“RAAAW! Scared to face him, too scared gonna lose, raaaaw!”

Dick guffaws which turns into a horrid chesty cough, spitting blood and mucus into his palm.

“Oh shit, you’re actually in a bad way.”

Arcana whips her hand and a handkerchief appears which she hands to Dick who wipes the blood away, Jim kneels down to check on Dick.

“Man, I feel like All Might.”

“... Who?”

“All Might! From My Hero Academia. It’s a good show, I’ve actually been getting into anime a lot recently.”

The group fall silent for a moment.

“Shit Dick, we need to get your mojo back A S A fuckin’ P.”

“Agreed, you’re starting to sound like a beta cuck.”

Dick sniffles.

“I’m running out of time, guys. I used the last of my remaining mojo on that sweet Einstein joke. I’m afraid if we don’t go soon my balls will be dryer than a nun’s… Armpit…”

Jim stands up straight and gets behind Dick’s wheelchair and begins to push him towards the gangplank.

“Dick, if I could give you my mojo I would in a heartbeat dude.”

Dick pats Jim’s hand.

“I know you would, Jimmy, I know.”

As the group begins walking Jim looks to Arcana.

“Is there no way you could fill the Slambassador’s balls with some spell?”

“I only know how to empty them.”

She gives a wink to Jim, Dick makes a weak laugh.

“Sadly no amount of witchcraft, wizardry or… Another thing that starts with ‘W’ will not work on my wankshaft. The only thing that can cure me is by going to the Mojenisis! The celestial phenomenon, 1969 the sexiest time period, Woodstock, the sexiest event in human history. The pinnacle of free love, the magnum opus of magnum puss!”

Dick coughs violently once more.

“Dammit, Dick! You can’t keep sayin’ all this hot stuff, you’ll be meetin’ Davy Jones before we set sail.” Jim gets to the gangplank and looks back to Ned. “Nedly, give me a hand with Dick’s wheelchair.”

Ned gives a huff and walks over.

“You know he can walk right?”

“Look at 'im bro! I’m worried he’d fall off the damn edge!”

Ned and Jim grab the sides of the wheelchair and hoist Dick up the gangplank. Einstein waits patiently, probably hoping to get paid and go home.

“I’m very happy you all came.”

“Somebody needs to now that you can’t.”

Caedus and Dick give hearty laughs as they all make their way aboard. Once on deck, Ned and Jim sit Dick down who rolls himself over to a non-specific part of the ship that the flux capacitor has been jammed into. Dick points to it as the team gather round.

“This beautiful piece of machinery that Jim and Arcana recovered is how we’re going to get to the Mojenisis event; trust me guys, once this ship hits 69 nautical miles per hour, you’re gonna see some serious shit.”

Jim looks excited, his arms crossed swaying on his toes. Geri raises an eyebrow and leans to Ned.

“So now it’s Back to the Future? I’m so confused.”

“I think he wanted Avengers Endgame and got confused. Or he couldn’t think of a good pun.”

“Assvengers End-came, never doubt me Ned.” Dick wheels over to a treasure chest and places a hand on it. “But before we travel through time we need to well-prepared.”

Dick lifts the chest open, smoke pours from layers of ice as cans and bottles of alcohol glitter in the sun.

“We gotta get fucked up, boys and girls.”

Caedus grins and moves to the chest taking a can and tossing it to Arcana, then to Geri and a final to Ned who looks at it unimpressed. Caedus bites the cork from a bottle of high-end rum and spits it overboard. Dick takes the bag of “magic leaf” from Geri and begins to roll a joint on his lap.

“So, we get drunk and high to prepare going back in time to stop you from having a midlife crisis.”

Dick raises his brow as he grinds the weed.

“Sir, I am 29 years old.”

“You are very clearly not, you look 50.”

Dick gasps.

“Yeah I’m with Ned, you look like Mr Clean’s arch-rival.”

Dick puts a hand to his heart, his mouth agape.

“Et tu, First Mate Geri?”

“You look like a ballsack with fewer pubes and more wrinkles.”

Snickering, Jim swallows down a mouthful of rum and taps Dick’s shoulder.

“Here, Cap, I’ll give you an example.”

Jim unzips and pulls out a pair of bull-sized testicles into Dick’s face who fakes like he doesn’t like it. Jim bursts into laughter tucking away his balls as Arcana joins in with a cackle, then Geri and Dick, and finally Ned lets out a quiet chuckle. Dick halts the weed, looking between his team with a wide grin on his face and grabs a bottle from the chest and raises it high in the air.

“To Acockalypse Now.”

The group join in, with a clink of their drinks.

“Acockalypse Now!”
“Acockalypse Now!”
“Acockalypse Now!”

They look to Ned who turns the can in his palm before finally nodding to himself and putting his arm in with a smile.

“Fuck it, to Acockalypse Now.”

The scene fades slowly to black.


We join the crew of the SS Sex (Dick-Lorean got voted out) several hours later. Dick is swaying at the helm with a bottle of Hennesy in his hand which sloshes out liquid as he moves sporadically, Rawrbert Main flies over head. Ned is looking out at the stars while Geri is up in the crow’s nest smoking a joint, Jim and Arcana are… Indisposed. Dick squints over at Ned.

“Manwhore-at-arms!”

No response.

“MANWHORE-AT-ARMS!!!”

Still nothing. Dick takes a deep breath.

”NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!”

“What!?”

Ned spins to lock eyes with Dick who smiles back hanging over the wheel.

“Be a lamb and hoist the sails.”

Ned looks at the rope to the beam, then to the sails themselves, then back to the rope and lastly to Dick.

“No!”

“Quit being a bitch!”

“I got it!”

A muffled shout sounds from above them as Geri rappels from the crow’s nest using the rope and lands next to Ned, with a quick flick of her hand she unravels the rope and the mainsail drops. Dick gives a thumbs up.

“This is why you’re First Mate, baby!”

Ned looks at Geri.

“That was impressive.”

Geri gives a wink and a finger gun with the joint hanging out her mouth, she then proceeds to the other sails. Dick slams his foot down on the deck and yells.

“You two quit fucking!” Dick’s eyes go wide and he mumbles to himself. “I never thought those words would leave my mouth.”

As Dick pouts Ned looks over.

“If we’re actually doing this you want me to raise the anchor?”

“Oh yeah, that’ll help. Good thinking, sweetie.”

Ned goes over to the crank to raise the anchor, he mutters under his breath.

“Sweetie?”

The door to the cabin opens up and Jim stumbles out wearing nothing but a Jolly Roger flag and a smile; Arcana follows behind adjusting her clothes.

“Fuck, we setting sail!? Dick, I got time to do the Titanic shit with Arcana?”

Dick clears his throat pointing down to a sign below which reads “No Titanic re-enactments.” Under that it also says “No fat chicks.” Jim gives a disappointed sigh as Arcana consoles him. The chain of the anchor rattles up as Dick turns the wheel portside to maneuver away from the dock. Wind hits the sails with a woosh and the galleon wades through the waters into the seemingly endless ocean. Caedus lets out a loud “Woo” as he runs up the front of the ship and poses proudly, the flag flying like a cape behind him. Geri strolls up to Ned and offer him the joint.

“Screw it.” Ned takes it and tokes deeply, bellowing smoke. “Dick’s probably gonna kill us anyway.”

“There’s that cheery demeanor I’m so accustomed to.”

“If you guys are drunk you’re gonna sober up real fucking soon! Here we go!”

The crew brace themselves, holding onto the ship tightly as the galleon sails smoothly in the open water. After a few seconds, everyone relaxes.

“Cap’n, we back in time?”

“Ermmm, not yet!”

“Looks like your ’flux capacitor’ isn’t working too well, Slambassador.”

“Cracker, do you know how long it takes to get to 69 nautical miles per hour?”

“Do you?”

“Obviously not! That’s why I asked.”

“This is so stupid.” Ned looks back. “Oh look! If I get off here I can swim to the docks and actually do something useful with my time!”

“Ned… Shuddup!”

“You tell 'im, Dick!”

Jim raises a fist in solidarity.

“Ned, chill man. We can still at least have fun out here. Nice night… It’s warm. Got a fuck ton of weed and alcohol.”

Ned goes to speak but the entire crew stumbles as the galleon thrashes and electricity runs across the deck. Dick’s eyes widen and he laughs maniacally.

“Suck it, Ned!”

The galleon continues to thrash and the crew hold on for dear life as lightning shoots from the SS Sex and speeds ahead until the night sky in front of them turns into a blinding light. The galleon vanishes from the water, leaving only a trail of fire.


We go to an open field where a large group of people are dancing and talking amongst each other. A layer of smoke hangs above them as they pass around the devil’s lettuce; suddenly, the crowd is disturbed by a gigantic pirate ship crashing through the trees and stopping in front of them, as anyone would be. The group looks on as the wood of the ship creaks loudly and falls slowly to it’s side. One hippy looks at the joint in his fingers and throws it away, swearing to never touch drugs again. And that young man grew up to be Rush Limbaugh. Be cool, kids, do drugs. The crew of the ship all look out at the group below them and give a slow, sorry wave. The mast crashes down to the ground behind them and the hippies let out a shocked scream; Acockalypse Now and Arcana look back and then to the damage of the ship before carefully walking down to the grass. On land Jim throws an arm around Dick.

“It fuckin’ worked, dude!”

“Yeah but I think the ship’s busted… Can we even get back home now?”

“Oh I’m sure we can fix her up, the problem will be getting the 1.21 Jizzawatts to fuel the flux capacitor.”

“Dick! JIZZAWATTS! You made a pun and didn’t puke blood!”

Dick’s eyes widen and he touches his body.

“By God, you’re right! Just being near the Mojenesis is making me better! Now I just need to find the place where it’s peak to fuel my sensual self.”

Ned walks a little ahead of the group and slowly lowers himself until he is face down in the grass.

“Shit, Nedly, you hurt brother?”

Ned doesn’t move, he mumbles through the grass.

“I am just drunk and high and this is the result… I’m gonna stay here until I’m on my comedown.”

Affectionately petting Ned's gloriously shiny, soft locks. "No worries Nedly. Rest sweet prince, we'll handle this and pick ya back up."

Dick, Geri, Arcana and Jim head for the stage setup in the near distance, picking their way through the throng. Keeping an eye out for the source until finally...

"I can feel it."

"Feel what?"

"A throbbing in my normally titanic nethers...we must be close." Dick thrusts his groin forward as he parts through the crowd with a slight jiggle to his loins. “My dick! It’s acting like a dowsing rod for mojo!”

“Oh shit! Look at ‘im go!”

Dick gyrates furiously, walking through random directions in the crowd until he pushes through a group of stoned hippies, knocking them to the floor as Geri, Arcana and Jim act like the secret service knocking pedestrians to the ground with the nonchalant brutality of the LAPD.

“It’s on the move!”

“Get the fuck out the way! This man needs his mojo!”

Jim straight up headbutts a dude as Geri pushes others out of the way, Arcana begins to cast a force field to get through the gathering crowd easier.

Meanwhile with Ned.

”Fuck.”

Ned rolls over, witnessing the peaceful skies above Woodstock, the music and festivities becoming a little too much to ignore.

”I suppose if I’m going to lose my shit, I might as well have fun doing it.”

As Ned attempted to get up, the effects of the drugs and alcohol made his movements unsteady. It didn’t help in the slightest that Ned had to be surrounded by a celebration of peace and love, two things he had spent months disavowing. As he wandered around the festival, maneuvering through the crowds as best he could, he would encounter the odd individual that would pay him mind, confused at his appearance or otherwise in awe of his hair or how truly out of it he looked.

Muttering under his breath, ”This is all bullshit. I’m not really here,” Ned managed to remain a selective choice for avoidance by most denizens of the festival. Unfortunately for him, that included security. Collapsing somewhere backstage, Ned ruminated on his predicament, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Despite having come into this nightmare fever dream with others, he chose immediately to seperate. Perhaps that was just the kind of person Ned was, a loner to his own detriment. As he fell deeper into his thoughts, a voice made his ears perk up.

“Hey there. Why ya down, Charlie Brown?”

”I’m just thinking. Maybe I’m just trying to avoid thinking about something else.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“My friends. Well, I don’t know if I’d quite call them that, but I did arrive here with them.”

“Oh. Guess they ditched you to prance about elsewhere?”

“No, no. I left them.”

“If you left them, why the long face? Seems like it was somethin’ you were wantin’ to do.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that, but it does feel like something I have to do.”

“If you gotta do something that doesn’t make you happy, is it worth doin’?”

Ned paused for a moment, uncertain how to answer.

“I suppose not. Thanks, uh-?”

Ned looked up, seeing Jimi Hendrix stare back at him, tuning up a guitar.

“Holy shit. Are you Jimi Hendrix?”

Jimi chuckled and smiled as he responded, tuning his guitar while he spoke. “Some folk call me that. Also, is that a pirate ship?”

Ned looks behind him briefly before turning back.

“Yeah, long story. Thanks for the advice, I really appreciate i-”

Before Ned’s words can finish leaving his lips, Geri and Jim ambush Hendrix, leaping from behind him and tackling him to the ground.

“HOLD HIM DOWN! HOLD HIM DOWN! I NEED THAT SWEET MOJO!”

Ned stares in utter disbelief as Dick pulls out a pair of period inaccurate electric clippers and shaves Hendrix’s head, Caedus frantically collecting the hair into a small bag, trying to ensure no strand is wasted.

”Thanks manwhore-at-arms! We never could have done this without you!”

”I-wha-”

As the three finally finish the shaving of Jimi’s legendary ‘fro, Dick Powers weakly gets to his feet, Geri hurriedly slathering his head with a strange white paste. Dick falls to the ground, his erection beginning to soften as Caedus slaps the newly gained hair on his head.

Nearly in tears. "No…no, no, NO!! DICK! Please...I- I can't- WE can't lose our Captain now! Engorge goddamn you, ENGORGE!"

I-it’s too late, Cummander-in-Queef… We all tried our best, but not even I can stay hard for more than 8 decades...

Geri holds Dick’s hand as his mojo seems to fade. He lets go of her, clearly uncomfortable with holding a female companion’s hand as he has his last erection. Ned was merely confused, unsure of exactly what was going on.

And what happened next? Well, Acockalypse Now all say that Dick Powers’ boner grew ten sizes that day. He leapt to his feet and said with a wink, “My third leg has grown back, tis veiny and pink!”

”What in the fuck just happened?”

Jimi Hendrix stands up, his afro completely restored by mysterious means. He shrugs a bit, clearly not too bothered by the actions of these weirdos he just met. Dick walks up to apologize to him.

Sorry, Mr. Hendrix! I didn’t have a bone to pick with you, but I have a boner because of you.

“It’s no worries. Besides, I’m ‘bout to play anyway, always nice to have a new set of hair before gettin’ it all wet.”

”Exactly!”

”But wait! How did you get your hair back?”

Jimi smiles back at Ned.

“The Mojenesis, baby.”

He steps away as Dick begins shouting in Ned’s ear.

“I TOLD YOU!”

"It's about that time, Acocks. Think we’ve destroyed a timeline enough for today."

"Hold up...baby, remember what happened with that alternate dimension shit? I thought you weren't able to Chrono-skip us around?"

"That applies to traveling BACK through time, this is returning to our present. ...I know, it's , but true magick is a mongoloid; half credible, half horseshit. Just trust me Jimmy…"

Waving her hands through the air, wisps of energy appear at her fingertips as she opens a portal through time; she takes a step back and gestures the group to move into the portal.

“Doctor Strange! We’re back on Marvel… Neat.” Geri hops in first. “See you on the other side.”

And with that she vanishes, Ned moves next.

“I still feel bad about Hendrix.”

“He’ll get over it, trust me.”

Ned tilts his head and walks through the portal. Jim steps forward.

“It’s been fun ‘69, see you never!”

And Jim cannonballs through time, finally Dick steps up but as he is about to make a one-liner his raging boner gets sucked in through the portal and he is whisked away. Arcana waves her hands once more as she walks backwards into the portal and a blinding flash of light illuminates the entire area. Then darkness.


Dick wakes up alone on a beach, the sun beginning to rise. The rest of his crew are nowhere to be seen. Are they elsewhere or gone completely? Dick ponders this as Rawrbert Main flies down and perches atop Dick’s hard on.

“Raawwwrrr! Cup the balls.”



fin
]]> ======λςΦςκλιφρ$Σ ηΦω======


Shart of Darkness


The California sun hangs low in the clear blue sky. Ned Kaye sits at the end of a stone dock looking down at the water below, he lazily skips small stones into the crashing waves beneath him. His eyes turn to approaching footsteps and he looks at Geri who adjusts her glance to the sea as Ned looks back; Kaye fiddles with the stone in his hands staring back at the water.

“Hey.”

“H- … Hi.”

A shock of red appears on Geri’s cheeks as she clears her throat.

“Our fearless leader invite you out here too?”

“Yeah… I know he bought a boat so I guess we’re doing Pirates of the Carribean now? Thought we were doing Avengers.”

Ned flicks the stone away and stands to his feet, placing his hands into his pockets.

“I think he just goes with whatever has the most innuendos.”

“Manwhore-at-arms is pretty funny.”

Geri gives a slight grin as Ned scoffs. The serene ambient noise is ruined by screeching tires and the rumble of a loud engine. The two on the dock look to the origin of the cacophonous clamor and see Jim Caedus and Arcana riding Ewrecktion (Jim's custom APEX Harley, knock it off ya filthy bastards) up to the dock. It rolls to a halt, the engine killed. Arcana hops off Jim's Ewrecktion, rubbing her sore ass as Jim swings a left leg over his ride and examines the two Acockalypse Now members from afar. He gives a wave as he and Arcana approach.

“Sup chucklefucks!”

Jim throws an arm over Arcana as they meet with Ned and Geri.

"Nedlyyyyyy!" Removes his arm from Arcana to swing the Nefarious One a high-powered side-five before turning to Vayden. "Geri, lookin' stunningly Eilish as usual. Up high!" Jim raises his hand for a high five, Geri doesn't move, doesn't smile, simply pinning him with a "die Jim" expression. Caedus drops his hand for a low five. "...Down low?" Geri moves to return the low fi- OOOOOOOOH, she nails Jim with a nut-check! Ned snorts, Geri cracks a smile, Jim doubles over in pained shock, laughing in good spirits. With a discomforted tone- "Jesus… Big ups on that one, Ger'!"

“Good to see my SEX-Men are bonding.”

The group turn to Dick Powers, looking gaunt and rolling up in a wheelchair. Jim emits a whistle-laugh in response to the name-game as the rest look defeated.

“And I, Professor SEX will guide you and prove why we are homo-superior when we go on our epic new adventure!”

There is a slight pause.

“So now it’s X-Men?”

“Dick.”

Powers points with a head tilt. Ned sighs.

“... Slambassador, why are you in a wheelchair?”

Dick crosses his legs.

“Needed to play the part dude, Cummander-in-Queef you get the stuff?”

“Aye aye, cap'n. Btw, LOVIN' the SEX-Men, I wanna be Urethra!”

"Urethra?"

"Yeah, the SEX-Men version 'a Cyclops."

"Duh, Arcana. Geri can be Lube-ilee and Ned, my loyal Breast!"

Ned looks like he wants to die as Dick touches his elbow.

"Arcana you're Jean Lay and your werewolf hooker coven sis LYcana is the blue-haired Yeast…...Infection. I mean it was obligatory. Anyway, the nugs Professor."

Dick thinks on how better Yeast Infection is than Breast but doesn’t mention it. Jim reveals a large bag of weed which shimmers with a magical shine and tosses it onto Dick’s lap.

“That shit'll make your hair grow back straight, might even give Ned a sense 'a humor.”

Jim laughs, playfully backhanding Ned’s chest.

“If we came here to get high and play nice, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Shit, I don’t.”

Geri grabs the bag from Dick and opens it, breathing in deeply as a smile creeps on her face. Arcana gives a smile.

“I may have enhanced it just a pinch.”

Ned rolls his eyes.

“Oh cool, magic drugs! Maybe if we plant it we’d get a magic cannabis plant that we could climb into the clouds.”

“... Doooooope! PLEASE tell me that'll happen sweets, will it!?”

Jim looks awestruck as Arcana shrugs, Ned shakes his head and starts to push past the group. Dick grabs his wrist.

“Wait, Ned! C’mon dude think of the big picture here, man. We ain’t gonna win at War Games if we don’t act like a team and teamwork means getting to know each other, having each other's backs and helping me fix my erectile dysfunction.”

Ned snatches his arm away from a frail Dick.

“I know teamwork. I’ve seen teamwork. This isn’t it, this is an excuse for you to get high and I refuse to be a part of it, it’s childish.”

“What if it helps you beat Main?”

Ned looks to Geri.

“Maybe… Maybe this could be the catalyst, we actually try and get to see how we get on outside of a match so that we can work better inside of a match.”

“Baby, we figure shit out we could bitch-slap Main’s beard into a goatee and you can finally get that satisfaction you crave.”

"Do me a favor Nedly; fuckstart fucktard's head and nut some genius jism in Bob-O's empty coconut 'fore ya split it so's he potentially crawls away with some modicum 'a talent. Lord knows I never rubbed off on 'im. ...I mean aside 'a jackin' off on 'is face while he slept."

The Nefarious One looks around, tapping his foot, his eyes darting between his teammates. With a heavy sigh he finally speaks.

“Fine.”

The group give a small cheer, Jim grabbing Ned’s shoulder, who gives a barely noticeable smile. Dick’s Casio calculator watch begins to beep.

“Oh shit! Get behind me my Sex-Men!”

Confused, the group do as he asks and Dick pulls out an umbrella to protect them all from a crashing wave that soaks the dock; Dick shakes the umbrella dry and puts it back away under his wheelchair. The team stand up straight staring in awe of the galleon that has appeared in front of them; Dick sits in a stoic pride and gestures to the ship.

“Behold, the DICK-Lorean!”

In amazement. "Great scott… Now THAT'S some engorgeous wood, Dick."

The words Moby Dick painted on the side of the vessel have been crudely covered and Dick-Lorean is written sloppily below. The gang stand in silence with their mouths agape. The gangplank is dropped from the boat and lands on the dock; a beautiful blonde woman in a lab coat begins to walk down to meet the team.

“Meet my test subject, I call her Einstein because she always be giving me brain.”

Dick throws up a hand for a high five. Jim, laughing his ass off, goes to meet it but Arcana pushes Caedus’ arm back down with a slow shake of her head. A little dejected, the high goes un-fived.

"Before we embark on our adventure...Capitan, I've a gift for ya. Baby?" Arcana poofs a top hat into existence and hands it to Jim. Jim reaches his hand inside, adopts a look of confusion, dips his arm down to the shoulder within the hat's inexplicable innards and finally pulls out-

"A parrot?"

"No Captain should be without one! What's your name lil' guy?"

"Raaaaaaaaawbert Main, Raaaaaaaaawbert Main! Raaaw! Tin foil hat! Power-drunk pissant! Where's the script!? Raaaw!"

"Yeah, he basically repeats what he hears or is told. He has no voice of his own. But hey, he IS a dumbass bird."

Rawbert Main flaps from Jim's hand to Dick's shoulder.

"Raaaw! I'm not a jobber, I was poisoned! Raaaw! Lord let me fuck one time! Just one time! Surpriiise! Raaaw! Dolly Waters is here to win! Meh, why try? Raaaw! Cup the balls! Cup the balls! Raaaw!"

"Cup the balls? Who'd he pick that up from?"

Arcana blushes. Jim offers a massive toothy grin. Dick pets the bird gently as a tear appears in his eye.

“I shall treasure him always, Jimmy.”

“RAAAW! Scared to face him, too scared gonna lose, raaaaw!”

Dick guffaws which turns into a horrid chesty cough, spitting blood and mucus into his palm.

“Oh shit, you’re actually in a bad way.”

Arcana whips her hand and a handkerchief appears which she hands to Dick who wipes the blood away, Jim kneels down to check on Dick.

“Man, I feel like All Might.”

“... Who?”

“All Might! From My Hero Academia. It’s a good show, I’ve actually been getting into anime a lot recently.”

The group fall silent for a moment.

“Shit Dick, we need to get your mojo back A S A fuckin’ P.”

“Agreed, you’re starting to sound like a beta cuck.”

Dick sniffles.

“I’m running out of time, guys. I used the last of my remaining mojo on that sweet Einstein joke. I’m afraid if we don’t go soon my balls will be dryer than a nun’s… Armpit…”

Jim stands up straight and gets behind Dick’s wheelchair and begins to push him towards the gangplank.

“Dick, if I could give you my mojo I would in a heartbeat dude.”

Dick pats Jim’s hand.

“I know you would, Jimmy, I know.”

As the group begins walking Jim looks to Arcana.

“Is there no way you could fill the Slambassador’s balls with some spell?”

“I only know how to empty them.”

She gives a wink to Jim, Dick makes a weak laugh.

“Sadly no amount of witchcraft, wizardry or… Another thing that starts with ‘W’ will not work on my wankshaft. The only thing that can cure me is by going to the Mojenisis! The celestial phenomenon, 1969 the sexiest time period, Woodstock, the sexiest event in human history. The pinnacle of free love, the magnum opus of magnum puss!”

Dick coughs violently once more.

“Dammit, Dick! You can’t keep sayin’ all this hot stuff, you’ll be meetin’ Davy Jones before we set sail.” Jim gets to the gangplank and looks back to Ned. “Nedly, give me a hand with Dick’s wheelchair.”

Ned gives a huff and walks over.

“You know he can walk right?”

“Look at 'im bro! I’m worried he’d fall off the damn edge!”

Ned and Jim grab the sides of the wheelchair and hoist Dick up the gangplank. Einstein waits patiently, probably hoping to get paid and go home.

“I’m very happy you all came.”

“Somebody needs to now that you can’t.”

Caedus and Dick give hearty laughs as they all make their way aboard. Once on deck, Ned and Jim sit Dick down who rolls himself over to a non-specific part of the ship that the flux capacitor has been jammed into. Dick points to it as the team gather round.

“This beautiful piece of machinery that Jim and Arcana recovered is how we’re going to get to the Mojenisis event; trust me guys, once this ship hits 69 nautical miles per hour, you’re gonna see some serious shit.”

Jim looks excited, his arms crossed swaying on his toes. Geri raises an eyebrow and leans to Ned.

“So now it’s Back to the Future? I’m so confused.”

“I think he wanted Avengers Endgame and got confused. Or he couldn’t think of a good pun.”

“Assvengers End-came, never doubt me Ned.” Dick wheels over to a treasure chest and places a hand on it. “But before we travel through time we need to well-prepared.”

Dick lifts the chest open, smoke pours from layers of ice as cans and bottles of alcohol glitter in the sun.

“We gotta get fucked up, boys and girls.”

Caedus grins and moves to the chest taking a can and tossing it to Arcana, then to Geri and a final to Ned who looks at it unimpressed. Caedus bites the cork from a bottle of high-end rum and spits it overboard. Dick takes the bag of “magic leaf” from Geri and begins to roll a joint on his lap.

“So, we get drunk and high to prepare going back in time to stop you from having a midlife crisis.”

Dick raises his brow as he grinds the weed.

“Sir, I am 29 years old.”

“You are very clearly not, you look 50.”

Dick gasps.

“Yeah I’m with Ned, you look like Mr Clean’s arch-rival.”

Dick puts a hand to his heart, his mouth agape.

“Et tu, First Mate Geri?”

“You look like a ballsack with fewer pubes and more wrinkles.”

Snickering, Jim swallows down a mouthful of rum and taps Dick’s shoulder.

“Here, Cap, I’ll give you an example.”

Jim unzips and pulls out a pair of bull-sized testicles into Dick’s face who fakes like he doesn’t like it. Jim bursts into laughter tucking away his balls as Arcana joins in with a cackle, then Geri and Dick, and finally Ned lets out a quiet chuckle. Dick halts the weed, looking between his team with a wide grin on his face and grabs a bottle from the chest and raises it high in the air.

“To Acockalypse Now.”

The group join in, with a clink of their drinks.

“Acockalypse Now!”
“Acockalypse Now!”
“Acockalypse Now!”

They look to Ned who turns the can in his palm before finally nodding to himself and putting his arm in with a smile.

“Fuck it, to Acockalypse Now.”

The scene fades slowly to black.


We join the crew of the SS Sex (Dick-Lorean got voted out) several hours later. Dick is swaying at the helm with a bottle of Hennesy in his hand which sloshes out liquid as he moves sporadically, Rawrbert Main flies over head. Ned is looking out at the stars while Geri is up in the crow’s nest smoking a joint, Jim and Arcana are… Indisposed. Dick squints over at Ned.

“Manwhore-at-arms!”

No response.

“MANWHORE-AT-ARMS!!!”

Still nothing. Dick takes a deep breath.

”NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!”

“What!?”

Ned spins to lock eyes with Dick who smiles back hanging over the wheel.

“Be a lamb and hoist the sails.”

Ned looks at the rope to the beam, then to the sails themselves, then back to the rope and lastly to Dick.

“No!”

“Quit being a bitch!”

“I got it!”

A muffled shout sounds from above them as Geri rappels from the crow’s nest using the rope and lands next to Ned, with a quick flick of her hand she unravels the rope and the mainsail drops. Dick gives a thumbs up.

“This is why you’re First Mate, baby!”

Ned looks at Geri.

“That was impressive.”

Geri gives a wink and a finger gun with the joint hanging out her mouth, she then proceeds to the other sails. Dick slams his foot down on the deck and yells.

“You two quit fucking!” Dick’s eyes go wide and he mumbles to himself. “I never thought those words would leave my mouth.”

As Dick pouts Ned looks over.

“If we’re actually doing this you want me to raise the anchor?”

“Oh yeah, that’ll help. Good thinking, sweetie.”

Ned goes over to the crank to raise the anchor, he mutters under his breath.

“Sweetie?”

The door to the cabin opens up and Jim stumbles out wearing nothing but a Jolly Roger flag and a smile; Arcana follows behind adjusting her clothes.

“Fuck, we setting sail!? Dick, I got time to do the Titanic shit with Arcana?”

Dick clears his throat pointing down to a sign below which reads “No Titanic re-enactments.” Under that it also says “No fat chicks.” Jim gives a disappointed sigh as Arcana consoles him. The chain of the anchor rattles up as Dick turns the wheel portside to maneuver away from the dock. Wind hits the sails with a woosh and the galleon wades through the waters into the seemingly endless ocean. Caedus lets out a loud “Woo” as he runs up the front of the ship and poses proudly, the flag flying like a cape behind him. Geri strolls up to Ned and offer him the joint.

“Screw it.” Ned takes it and tokes deeply, bellowing smoke. “Dick’s probably gonna kill us anyway.”

“There’s that cheery demeanor I’m so accustomed to.”

“If you guys are drunk you’re gonna sober up real fucking soon! Here we go!”

The crew brace themselves, holding onto the ship tightly as the galleon sails smoothly in the open water. After a few seconds, everyone relaxes.

“Cap’n, we back in time?”

“Ermmm, not yet!”

“Looks like your ’flux capacitor’ isn’t working too well, Slambassador.”

“Cracker, do you know how long it takes to get to 69 nautical miles per hour?”

“Do you?”

“Obviously not! That’s why I asked.”

“This is so stupid.” Ned looks back. “Oh look! If I get off here I can swim to the docks and actually do something useful with my time!”

“Ned… Shuddup!”

“You tell 'im, Dick!”

Jim raises a fist in solidarity.

“Ned, chill man. We can still at least have fun out here. Nice night… It’s warm. Got a fuck ton of weed and alcohol.”

Ned goes to speak but the entire crew stumbles as the galleon thrashes and electricity runs across the deck. Dick’s eyes widen and he laughs maniacally.

“Suck it, Ned!”

The galleon continues to thrash and the crew hold on for dear life as lightning shoots from the SS Sex and speeds ahead until the night sky in front of them turns into a blinding light. The galleon vanishes from the water, leaving only a trail of fire.


We go to an open field where a large group of people are dancing and talking amongst each other. A layer of smoke hangs above them as they pass around the devil’s lettuce; suddenly, the crowd is disturbed by a gigantic pirate ship crashing through the trees and stopping in front of them, as anyone would be. The group looks on as the wood of the ship creaks loudly and falls slowly to it’s side. One hippy looks at the joint in his fingers and throws it away, swearing to never touch drugs again. And that young man grew up to be Rush Limbaugh. Be cool, kids, do drugs. The crew of the ship all look out at the group below them and give a slow, sorry wave. The mast crashes down to the ground behind them and the hippies let out a shocked scream; Acockalypse Now and Arcana look back and then to the damage of the ship before carefully walking down to the grass. On land Jim throws an arm around Dick.

“It fuckin’ worked, dude!”

“Yeah but I think the ship’s busted… Can we even get back home now?”

“Oh I’m sure we can fix her up, the problem will be getting the 1.21 Jizzawatts to fuel the flux capacitor.”

“Dick! JIZZAWATTS! You made a pun and didn’t puke blood!”

Dick’s eyes widen and he touches his body.

“By God, you’re right! Just being near the Mojenesis is making me better! Now I just need to find the place where it’s peak to fuel my sensual self.”

Ned walks a little ahead of the group and slowly lowers himself until he is face down in the grass.

“Shit, Nedly, you hurt brother?”

Ned doesn’t move, he mumbles through the grass.

“I am just drunk and high and this is the result… I’m gonna stay here until I’m on my comedown.”

Affectionately petting Ned's gloriously shiny, soft locks. "No worries Nedly. Rest sweet prince, we'll handle this and pick ya back up."

Dick, Geri, Arcana and Jim head for the stage setup in the near distance, picking their way through the throng. Keeping an eye out for the source until finally...

"I can feel it."

"Feel what?"

"A throbbing in my normally titanic nethers...we must be close." Dick thrusts his groin forward as he parts through the crowd with a slight jiggle to his loins. “My dick! It’s acting like a dowsing rod for mojo!”

“Oh shit! Look at ‘im go!”

Dick gyrates furiously, walking through random directions in the crowd until he pushes through a group of stoned hippies, knocking them to the floor as Geri, Arcana and Jim act like the secret service knocking pedestrians to the ground with the nonchalant brutality of the LAPD.

“It’s on the move!”

“Get the fuck out the way! This man needs his mojo!”

Jim straight up headbutts a dude as Geri pushes others out of the way, Arcana begins to cast a force field to get through the gathering crowd easier.

Meanwhile with Ned.

”Fuck.”

Ned rolls over, witnessing the peaceful skies above Woodstock, the music and festivities becoming a little too much to ignore.

”I suppose if I’m going to lose my shit, I might as well have fun doing it.”

As Ned attempted to get up, the effects of the drugs and alcohol made his movements unsteady. It didn’t help in the slightest that Ned had to be surrounded by a celebration of peace and love, two things he had spent months disavowing. As he wandered around the festival, maneuvering through the crowds as best he could, he would encounter the odd individual that would pay him mind, confused at his appearance or otherwise in awe of his hair or how truly out of it he looked.

Muttering under his breath, ”This is all bullshit. I’m not really here,” Ned managed to remain a selective choice for avoidance by most denizens of the festival. Unfortunately for him, that included security. Collapsing somewhere backstage, Ned ruminated on his predicament, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Despite having come into this nightmare fever dream with others, he chose immediately to seperate. Perhaps that was just the kind of person Ned was, a loner to his own detriment. As he fell deeper into his thoughts, a voice made his ears perk up.

“Hey there. Why ya down, Charlie Brown?”

”I’m just thinking. Maybe I’m just trying to avoid thinking about something else.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“My friends. Well, I don’t know if I’d quite call them that, but I did arrive here with them.”

“Oh. Guess they ditched you to prance about elsewhere?”

“No, no. I left them.”

“If you left them, why the long face? Seems like it was somethin’ you were wantin’ to do.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that, but it does feel like something I have to do.”

“If you gotta do something that doesn’t make you happy, is it worth doin’?”

Ned paused for a moment, uncertain how to answer.

“I suppose not. Thanks, uh-?”

Ned looked up, seeing Jimi Hendrix stare back at him, tuning up a guitar.

“Holy shit. Are you Jimi Hendrix?”

Jimi chuckled and smiled as he responded, tuning his guitar while he spoke. “Some folk call me that. Also, is that a pirate ship?”

Ned looks behind him briefly before turning back.

“Yeah, long story. Thanks for the advice, I really appreciate i-”

Before Ned’s words can finish leaving his lips, Geri and Jim ambush Hendrix, leaping from behind him and tackling him to the ground.

“HOLD HIM DOWN! HOLD HIM DOWN! I NEED THAT SWEET MOJO!”

Ned stares in utter disbelief as Dick pulls out a pair of period inaccurate electric clippers and shaves Hendrix’s head, Caedus frantically collecting the hair into a small bag, trying to ensure no strand is wasted.

”Thanks manwhore-at-arms! We never could have done this without you!”

”I-wha-”

As the three finally finish the shaving of Jimi’s legendary ‘fro, Dick Powers weakly gets to his feet, Geri hurriedly slathering his head with a strange white paste. Dick falls to the ground, his erection beginning to soften as Caedus slaps the newly gained hair on his head.

Nearly in tears. "No…no, no, NO!! DICK! Please...I- I can't- WE can't lose our Captain now! Engorge goddamn you, ENGORGE!"

I-it’s too late, Cummander-in-Queef… We all tried our best, but not even I can stay hard for more than 8 decades...

Geri holds Dick’s hand as his mojo seems to fade. He lets go of her, clearly uncomfortable with holding a female companion’s hand as he has his last erection. Ned was merely confused, unsure of exactly what was going on.

And what happened next? Well, Acockalypse Now all say that Dick Powers’ boner grew ten sizes that day. He leapt to his feet and said with a wink, “My third leg has grown back, tis veiny and pink!”

”What in the fuck just happened?”

Jimi Hendrix stands up, his afro completely restored by mysterious means. He shrugs a bit, clearly not too bothered by the actions of these weirdos he just met. Dick walks up to apologize to him.

Sorry, Mr. Hendrix! I didn’t have a bone to pick with you, but I have a boner because of you.

“It’s no worries. Besides, I’m ‘bout to play anyway, always nice to have a new set of hair before gettin’ it all wet.”

”Exactly!”

”But wait! How did you get your hair back?”

Jimi smiles back at Ned.

“The Mojenesis, baby.”

He steps away as Dick begins shouting in Ned’s ear.

“I TOLD YOU!”

"It's about that time, Acocks. Think we’ve destroyed a timeline enough for today."

"Hold up...baby, remember what happened with that alternate dimension shit? I thought you weren't able to Chrono-skip us around?"

"That applies to traveling BACK through time, this is returning to our present. ...I know, it's , but true magick is a mongoloid; half credible, half horseshit. Just trust me Jimmy…"

Waving her hands through the air, wisps of energy appear at her fingertips as she opens a portal through time; she takes a step back and gestures the group to move into the portal.

“Doctor Strange! We’re back on Marvel… Neat.” Geri hops in first. “See you on the other side.”

And with that she vanishes, Ned moves next.

“I still feel bad about Hendrix.”

“He’ll get over it, trust me.”

Ned tilts his head and walks through the portal. Jim steps forward.

“It’s been fun ‘69, see you never!”

And Jim cannonballs through time, finally Dick steps up but as he is about to make a one-liner his raging boner gets sucked in through the portal and he is whisked away. Arcana waves her hands once more as she walks backwards into the portal and a blinding flash of light illuminates the entire area. Then darkness.


Dick wakes up alone on a beach, the sun beginning to rise. The rest of his crew are nowhere to be seen. Are they elsewhere or gone completely? Dick ponders this as Rawrbert Main flies down and perches atop Dick’s hard on.

“Raawwwrrr! Cup the balls.”



fin
]]> <![CDATA[Heart of Darkness VII]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41533 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 22:35:27 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41533

If there is one thing that mother has taught us… It’s that we never play with our food, right?

DOCK’s deep voice bellows throughout the darkness and he drifts away from Thaddeus… As DOCK swims away he sees the boy’s body slowly sail away until, like ashes, it crumbles away and disappears into nothingness.

But what fun is that?! If Alias taught me anything throughout all of this.... Aside from some mad puppeteering skills You can’t just eat it.

BAH.

He prepped and marinated that left hand of his for months before he finally gobbled it up and, at last(!), after a strenuous wait, we were at peace from Alias getting maimed by a bunch of weirdos creatures of the night week in and out. I’d compare the saga to Duke and Page roasting on low for four to six months because that’s about how much everyone cared about all that. I guess look at it like Alias taking one for the team because no one really wanted to waste their OWN time destroying the absolute bottom part of the roster of this FINE FOUL federation. So, what is it? Because I don’t really know why everyone or anyone would be so happy about this guy being our top guy. Seriously!

DOCK floats some more. He flails his arms about as he talks in the darkness..

Now, I’m not saying the guy doesn’t deserve what he has or anything… All I’m saying is that is it worth all of the praise? I never touched on this too much but the start of this “craze” began when? Just before he beat Reggie Estrada for the Xtreme Title, right? I dunno, or maybe it started back at High Stakes with his fabulous puppet show. Regardless, one lucky strike after another led to Alias cruising through, what? Fourteen or so weeks as Xtreme Champion? Until, I… DOCK(!) Finally stepped ahead of the line at May Day and did my best to STOP this asshole from getting a briefcase and preserve this Goddamn place, only to get foiled by….. …… ….. . . .. . … . . Eh.

Yeah, yeah, wah wah wah. Get over it DOCK! But don’t tell me this fucker owns me when he just managed to live through what just happened to be the luckiest best day of his life. Don’t act like I’m just another meal when you all know that I’m not just some victim that rolls over and dies…. Well, not in a permant sense, I suppose. Alias has pissed around with fire before but has NO idea the fire he started and will soon find out he has no idea how to control it. Que sera, sera

He folds his arms and starts feeling around for a cigar in his pocket, but doesn’t find one. Sighing out loud, DOCK goes from a float to a walk and as he does so a red door appears in front of him. The door opens up into the office of Doctor Louis D’Ville. The infamous place where the good doctor would hold his sessions long before his second crowning as King…. Long before he went up in smoke. Long before he lost his damn mind. He approaches his desk and pulls open the drawer for a cigar. He lights it with a snap of his gauntlet then plops down in the big leather chair.

So, look what’s happened, Corey Smith basically worships the fucking guy. As much as Corey and I pass back and forth who is the most vile and disgusting, distrusting, piece of shit, nothing, fucking fucker in the whole universe, I don’t think he’s stupid. I know he’s not. He knew deep down Duke's intentions during the draft and knew that he would have to, no matter what, go with the champ. Corey is smart enough to at least surround himself with those stronger than him. That's why it was so easy to go with the flow in Continuum. In that scenario, too, you had the Universal Champion at your side and myself on the other. Talk about being in the safest place in the universe. Now, with the offer surely already dangling over your head before we left the venue that night, I must ask, why start the commune? To help people? Doubt it. You’re lonely? Hmmm, negative. No one squatting in your brain so you need a couple dozen real people voices to fill in the blanks? Oooh. Shiver me timbers. Disguised as some peaceful nap shack of a place for the screwed up and weary, you knew it would attract damaged goods like, say, Dolly Waters. Maybe, if you were lucky enough, even Alias. You can’t pretend anymore that inheriting some dead psycho’s mansion and a mysterious entity haunting you from your past doesn’t make you a super villain. Or, I guess, you could maybe be Batman.

DOCK scoffs and snuffs out the half-spent cigar right on the top surface of the desk leaving a large, quarter-sized burn. He disappears behind the desk and brings up with him a wooden box with action figures inside. One-by-one he takes them out and places them on the desk.

Hey everyone look at Corey pick apart teams like some retired basketball player turned analyst who can look at the cover and give us a nice broad, generic analysis. I mean, I guess we’re all guilty of it to a degree. EVERYone is doing it, but if anyone needs to look back and consider how well they drafted, it’s him, right? DisContinuum is still intact. BoB is, of course, still going strong. What the fuck happened to FUCKTHAD? I mean, FUCK Morbid Angel, too, right? That guy was no good for you anyway. At least Centurion…. Um… I mean, Centurion can…. He has….. Uh… You know you could always…. Hmmm… Yeah, lucky ducky. The guy just moped around your camp for special needs with you guys and bitched the entire time. And ya’ll say what I’m doing to MY partners is bad? Centurion actually looks like he's getting tortured during this venture. Then bringing him into War Games where he admits, openly, out-loud with that never ceasing mouth of his, that he knows he ain’t beating me. Alias will do all the work, right? Even Corey said it’s all about Alias. My goodness, let’s put all our eggs in one basket, why don’t we?

Corey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned around here over the many years… I’m sure that you’ve learned the same thing… There ain’t a single person around here that is unbeatable. Everyone’s day comes around sooner or later… He did eventually lose a championship so he’s definitely beatable, give or take some silly circumstances. Do you recall how close I was to walking away from May Day with that? I’m aware I’m beating a dead horse here, a loss is a loss, don’t get me wrong, but c’mon! If you’re going to praise this fellow at my expense I’m going to back it up with all the technicalities and facts that go along with it. But it still comes down to the champ escaping with his life and the King being slain, doesn’t it? Even though a sniveling snake couldn’t keep his… I dunno… slithery, slimey oven mitts scales? OH! Lying ass out of my match he was in charge of?

I think Duke made a fine choice, actually, because ya'll have seen we’ve been a proven force in the past. Heavy hitters. Top guns. Legends of the Hall. Hell, maybe we would still be champs to this day had you not been involved. I know, I know… Duke’s the one that lost them in the match, however, I have a strong feeling that just wouldn’t have happened if I was there. That’s not even a shot at Corey’s skill, there’s enough about that. I am actually quite used to carrying the weight, ya know? What I have doubts about is his faith in what he stood for. The bitter after taste following every match defending a championship won by his BFF and what could be his worst enemy some days… The pretentious prick was above defending this championship and never cared about it to begin with. Yes, they just fell on your lap. Yes, I am WELL aware that Thad insisted. And yes, regardless of your distrust for me you remained until there was nothing left. All I ever did was try and bring the best out of Duke, whether it was digging some darkness out of him or not… I know what’s good for the boy. We all know about his stupid emotions and if anyone toyed and fucked with any of those icky things it was you. Who hurt him the most, Corey? Which blow mattered more? You may not care and found new love in whatever the fuck Alias is, but Duke WILL have your throat at the edge of his sword someday very soon.

I know, “What did I do? If I’m so bad and wanted to take advantage of him, why didn’t I go after him while he was champ?” Well, that would’ve just ruined the whole facade, wouldn’t it? That would have made Corey less the victim and more of a…. *gasp* … villain? Is that why you’re so adamant about NOT cashing in on Alias and wasting a good briefcase on some fairy pussy nonsense because you feel bad about….. You? Does Alias even deserve that when he stole another one of my ideas when he phoenix’d himself back into existence after blah blah blah Atara blah blah blah?

Que sera, sera.

And let us not forget who else is on the roster for FUCKTHAD… Corey drafted a North Korean War Criminal. I mean… He doesn't hesitate to call me out on my "methods" all the time but holy jumping Jim Cricket, my foes… It is right in the guy's name for fuck sake. Drafting Morbid Angel from the start is one thing, but wow, look at THIS guy!

North Korean War Criminal.

Hmm…

He DOES seem to have a knack for spotting certain flaws, especially in American made products! Quite the skill coming from someone who lived under the rock of North Korean propaganda for…. What did Alias say? Three thousand years, or something? What is this shit about DisContinuum NOT being a solid team? We, too, all have our roles! Duke is, of course, le capitaine. Andre is our insider… Which, I am sure you can appreciate and understand being a, uh… war criminal and all, right? And Chaos is our cannon fodder.

I….

DOCK sneers.

I am the fire that burns within all of them. I am the combustion that keeps this machine running at apex performance. I am the burned, hardened, volcanic rock impenetrable to the likes of you. Yet, I am flawed. I am tattered. I am torn. I’ve been broken. I’ve been rebuilt from the ground up. Reassembled. Redesigned. While I am flawed I will never become obsolete. I will never be so flawed that I will lose my place, my face, my head in THIS universe and allow someone of the likes of you leave me in the dust. Centurion and War Criminal? Also cannon fodder. Remember what your leader said, not the short, emperor one, “NK”, but Corey! It’s all about Alias. You boys are the front line and if I have to go through the two of you to get to what I want, easy peasy. Centurion already knows his boundaries and capabilities, but YOU, War Criminal…. You haven’t spent enough time around here to get the gist of things, but that’s alright. War Games will teach you exactly who I am and what I’m about. I’m the big bad wolf, baby, and even though I ended up in Alias’s cooking pot one time.... I’m coming back with a jack hammer and a wrecking ball to end this for good.

DOCK arranges the action figures on the desk where one, a 4-inch tall Lion-O from Thundercats, sits on a small stack of books, another figure, Michelangelo from TMNT, beside it, and several of the same red rangers beside that one… all facing a single one, a black GI-Joe, kneeling before them.

Now, speaking of ideas, Alias has recently reminded me of what a joy it was to watch his puppet production all them months ago. I know my collection of XWF figurines is probably no match compared to all the work he put into the Lamb Chops, sock puppets, and dollies…. But, hey, a little extra use outta the old imagination never hurt anybody!

DOCK waves his over the desk and all the action figures change into actual XWF'ers. Lion-O turned into Miss Fury. Michelangelo to Bobby Bourbon. All the red rangers to identical looking Thunder Knuckles. And the GI-Joe turned into a little Andre Dixon. A mist of pixie D'Ville dust wafts through the air and tickles his nose… He huffs…. He puffs………..

AH!!! CHOOOO!!!!

Next to DOCK a *POOF* happens with his sneeze and the "Cereal Killa" Cadryn Tiberius, DOCK's long, lost jester, appears. It looks like he was in a shower as he's soaking wet, yet fully clothed with a shower cap on, eating Cap'n Crunch no crunch berries from the box.

HAI DAWK!!!!! *GASP* WHATCHA PLAYIN?!?!

NOT NOW!!!

As quickly as Cadryn *POOFED* in, DOCK swatted his gauntlet down on the desk *POOFING* him away again. DOCK looks all around the room, under the desk, back and forth, forth and back until he lets out a sigh of relief and grabs the Fury toy.

Grrrr!!! Order in the court!! Order in the court!!!

DOCK chuckles and acts out a scene we might remember from an Andre Dixon experience.

Guilty!!! Blahahahahaha harharharhar!!!! Get him Ghost Tank!!!

DOCK tosses the Fury figurine down and produces an even bigger T-rex from under the desk and slams it down onto Andre!!!

BLAAARRRRRGH!!!! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!!!! Hahaha!!

DOCK stares down at the scene he just made, sighs, then tosses the Andre and T-rex down and gets up out of the chair.

He made it look more fun than what that actually was… oh well. Poor Andre Dixon though, right? The one BoB left out of the stew. The odd man out. I noticed everyone noticed that, too! I even had my doubts about the guy and his loyalty towards a group that could potentially face the Baddies in the end. Que sera, sera. Here's the thing though, everyone, do you think it would really matter? Of course I was an accuser and he denied it all, but even if he was a BoB spy…. Would it really affect the end result of War Games? Don't get me wrong, I have faith in the fellow's abilities, but heh, not if the tables turned and the gun was pointed at me. And to say that I am manipulating this poor soul to do our bidding is just ridiculous. I merely showed the guy what could be. Do you really think BoB are sitting around kicking themselves over the fact they were stuck with literally the weakest of links? I doubt it. Do you think when DisContinuum and BoB clash in the finals that they're going to be pulling any punches? Hardly. They are so excited about the fact they're together that they will literally do whatever it takes to be the strongest team walking out of this thing.

I'll admit, Those Couple Bastards… they're great. They are definitely the best of the group and, of course, currently holding the top spot in not just one Tag Team Division… but TWO!! Bobby Bourbon just defeated Corey Smith for the Television Title and Fury is basically the face, chest, and toes of Anarchy. Should we all be concerned about allowing this to happen? Or did everyone not care? I chuckled a bit at the thought of them rampaging through War Games like some super group and then I remembered something! It's JUST BoB.

Duke and I beat the team that dominated this place for the better part of a year and don't get me started again on how they ended up with BoB. BUT. They know as well as anybody that when I'm in the room, things can change drastically. Odds are turned upside down and chances become the slimmest they can possibly be. Snow Job, I pinned Marf to defend the titles in a match the Bastards could NOT win. Deny me my victory over the Bastards all you want. Steal phrases like Worstein about not getting pinned so they add another, separate column to their win/loss record to save a bit of face. Do whatever it takes to keep that confidence up because it will be all you have. Oswald's money isn't going to help you. Fury with all of her global scheming and enterprising isn't going to help. The only thing that BoB has going for them are the two decorated in all that gold…. But when your absolute best barely even scratches the surface of my worst, you can have all the gold in the world, but all that shit tells me is ya'll lack a DAWK validation. Which you all know, I know, TK and Bobby know… They will never get.

As DOCK paces around the room he notices another red door that just appeared out of thin air.

Ruh roh… Looks like we have some more work to do!

He approaches the door and opens it to reveal a grand hall. A red carpet is laid at his feet to guide him up to a throne where his captain, Thaddeus Duke, approaches a throne. DOCK enters the room and as he crosses the threshold morphs from his nasty, ashy-ness to “OG” Doc… The man in the white suit and hat and sinister smile….. He folds his hands behind his back and approaches the throne where Thaddeus awaits.

Your grace.

Your highness.



]]>

If there is one thing that mother has taught us… It’s that we never play with our food, right?

DOCK’s deep voice bellows throughout the darkness and he drifts away from Thaddeus… As DOCK swims away he sees the boy’s body slowly sail away until, like ashes, it crumbles away and disappears into nothingness.

But what fun is that?! If Alias taught me anything throughout all of this.... Aside from some mad puppeteering skills You can’t just eat it.

BAH.

He prepped and marinated that left hand of his for months before he finally gobbled it up and, at last(!), after a strenuous wait, we were at peace from Alias getting maimed by a bunch of weirdos creatures of the night week in and out. I’d compare the saga to Duke and Page roasting on low for four to six months because that’s about how much everyone cared about all that. I guess look at it like Alias taking one for the team because no one really wanted to waste their OWN time destroying the absolute bottom part of the roster of this FINE FOUL federation. So, what is it? Because I don’t really know why everyone or anyone would be so happy about this guy being our top guy. Seriously!

DOCK floats some more. He flails his arms about as he talks in the darkness..

Now, I’m not saying the guy doesn’t deserve what he has or anything… All I’m saying is that is it worth all of the praise? I never touched on this too much but the start of this “craze” began when? Just before he beat Reggie Estrada for the Xtreme Title, right? I dunno, or maybe it started back at High Stakes with his fabulous puppet show. Regardless, one lucky strike after another led to Alias cruising through, what? Fourteen or so weeks as Xtreme Champion? Until, I… DOCK(!) Finally stepped ahead of the line at May Day and did my best to STOP this asshole from getting a briefcase and preserve this Goddamn place, only to get foiled by….. …… ….. . . .. . … . . Eh.

Yeah, yeah, wah wah wah. Get over it DOCK! But don’t tell me this fucker owns me when he just managed to live through what just happened to be the luckiest best day of his life. Don’t act like I’m just another meal when you all know that I’m not just some victim that rolls over and dies…. Well, not in a permant sense, I suppose. Alias has pissed around with fire before but has NO idea the fire he started and will soon find out he has no idea how to control it. Que sera, sera

He folds his arms and starts feeling around for a cigar in his pocket, but doesn’t find one. Sighing out loud, DOCK goes from a float to a walk and as he does so a red door appears in front of him. The door opens up into the office of Doctor Louis D’Ville. The infamous place where the good doctor would hold his sessions long before his second crowning as King…. Long before he went up in smoke. Long before he lost his damn mind. He approaches his desk and pulls open the drawer for a cigar. He lights it with a snap of his gauntlet then plops down in the big leather chair.

So, look what’s happened, Corey Smith basically worships the fucking guy. As much as Corey and I pass back and forth who is the most vile and disgusting, distrusting, piece of shit, nothing, fucking fucker in the whole universe, I don’t think he’s stupid. I know he’s not. He knew deep down Duke's intentions during the draft and knew that he would have to, no matter what, go with the champ. Corey is smart enough to at least surround himself with those stronger than him. That's why it was so easy to go with the flow in Continuum. In that scenario, too, you had the Universal Champion at your side and myself on the other. Talk about being in the safest place in the universe. Now, with the offer surely already dangling over your head before we left the venue that night, I must ask, why start the commune? To help people? Doubt it. You’re lonely? Hmmm, negative. No one squatting in your brain so you need a couple dozen real people voices to fill in the blanks? Oooh. Shiver me timbers. Disguised as some peaceful nap shack of a place for the screwed up and weary, you knew it would attract damaged goods like, say, Dolly Waters. Maybe, if you were lucky enough, even Alias. You can’t pretend anymore that inheriting some dead psycho’s mansion and a mysterious entity haunting you from your past doesn’t make you a super villain. Or, I guess, you could maybe be Batman.

DOCK scoffs and snuffs out the half-spent cigar right on the top surface of the desk leaving a large, quarter-sized burn. He disappears behind the desk and brings up with him a wooden box with action figures inside. One-by-one he takes them out and places them on the desk.

Hey everyone look at Corey pick apart teams like some retired basketball player turned analyst who can look at the cover and give us a nice broad, generic analysis. I mean, I guess we’re all guilty of it to a degree. EVERYone is doing it, but if anyone needs to look back and consider how well they drafted, it’s him, right? DisContinuum is still intact. BoB is, of course, still going strong. What the fuck happened to FUCKTHAD? I mean, FUCK Morbid Angel, too, right? That guy was no good for you anyway. At least Centurion…. Um… I mean, Centurion can…. He has….. Uh… You know you could always…. Hmmm… Yeah, lucky ducky. The guy just moped around your camp for special needs with you guys and bitched the entire time. And ya’ll say what I’m doing to MY partners is bad? Centurion actually looks like he's getting tortured during this venture. Then bringing him into War Games where he admits, openly, out-loud with that never ceasing mouth of his, that he knows he ain’t beating me. Alias will do all the work, right? Even Corey said it’s all about Alias. My goodness, let’s put all our eggs in one basket, why don’t we?

Corey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned around here over the many years… I’m sure that you’ve learned the same thing… There ain’t a single person around here that is unbeatable. Everyone’s day comes around sooner or later… He did eventually lose a championship so he’s definitely beatable, give or take some silly circumstances. Do you recall how close I was to walking away from May Day with that? I’m aware I’m beating a dead horse here, a loss is a loss, don’t get me wrong, but c’mon! If you’re going to praise this fellow at my expense I’m going to back it up with all the technicalities and facts that go along with it. But it still comes down to the champ escaping with his life and the King being slain, doesn’t it? Even though a sniveling snake couldn’t keep his… I dunno… slithery, slimey oven mitts scales? OH! Lying ass out of my match he was in charge of?

I think Duke made a fine choice, actually, because ya'll have seen we’ve been a proven force in the past. Heavy hitters. Top guns. Legends of the Hall. Hell, maybe we would still be champs to this day had you not been involved. I know, I know… Duke’s the one that lost them in the match, however, I have a strong feeling that just wouldn’t have happened if I was there. That’s not even a shot at Corey’s skill, there’s enough about that. I am actually quite used to carrying the weight, ya know? What I have doubts about is his faith in what he stood for. The bitter after taste following every match defending a championship won by his BFF and what could be his worst enemy some days… The pretentious prick was above defending this championship and never cared about it to begin with. Yes, they just fell on your lap. Yes, I am WELL aware that Thad insisted. And yes, regardless of your distrust for me you remained until there was nothing left. All I ever did was try and bring the best out of Duke, whether it was digging some darkness out of him or not… I know what’s good for the boy. We all know about his stupid emotions and if anyone toyed and fucked with any of those icky things it was you. Who hurt him the most, Corey? Which blow mattered more? You may not care and found new love in whatever the fuck Alias is, but Duke WILL have your throat at the edge of his sword someday very soon.

I know, “What did I do? If I’m so bad and wanted to take advantage of him, why didn’t I go after him while he was champ?” Well, that would’ve just ruined the whole facade, wouldn’t it? That would have made Corey less the victim and more of a…. *gasp* … villain? Is that why you’re so adamant about NOT cashing in on Alias and wasting a good briefcase on some fairy pussy nonsense because you feel bad about….. You? Does Alias even deserve that when he stole another one of my ideas when he phoenix’d himself back into existence after blah blah blah Atara blah blah blah?

Que sera, sera.

And let us not forget who else is on the roster for FUCKTHAD… Corey drafted a North Korean War Criminal. I mean… He doesn't hesitate to call me out on my "methods" all the time but holy jumping Jim Cricket, my foes… It is right in the guy's name for fuck sake. Drafting Morbid Angel from the start is one thing, but wow, look at THIS guy!

North Korean War Criminal.

Hmm…

He DOES seem to have a knack for spotting certain flaws, especially in American made products! Quite the skill coming from someone who lived under the rock of North Korean propaganda for…. What did Alias say? Three thousand years, or something? What is this shit about DisContinuum NOT being a solid team? We, too, all have our roles! Duke is, of course, le capitaine. Andre is our insider… Which, I am sure you can appreciate and understand being a, uh… war criminal and all, right? And Chaos is our cannon fodder.

I….

DOCK sneers.

I am the fire that burns within all of them. I am the combustion that keeps this machine running at apex performance. I am the burned, hardened, volcanic rock impenetrable to the likes of you. Yet, I am flawed. I am tattered. I am torn. I’ve been broken. I’ve been rebuilt from the ground up. Reassembled. Redesigned. While I am flawed I will never become obsolete. I will never be so flawed that I will lose my place, my face, my head in THIS universe and allow someone of the likes of you leave me in the dust. Centurion and War Criminal? Also cannon fodder. Remember what your leader said, not the short, emperor one, “NK”, but Corey! It’s all about Alias. You boys are the front line and if I have to go through the two of you to get to what I want, easy peasy. Centurion already knows his boundaries and capabilities, but YOU, War Criminal…. You haven’t spent enough time around here to get the gist of things, but that’s alright. War Games will teach you exactly who I am and what I’m about. I’m the big bad wolf, baby, and even though I ended up in Alias’s cooking pot one time.... I’m coming back with a jack hammer and a wrecking ball to end this for good.

DOCK arranges the action figures on the desk where one, a 4-inch tall Lion-O from Thundercats, sits on a small stack of books, another figure, Michelangelo from TMNT, beside it, and several of the same red rangers beside that one… all facing a single one, a black GI-Joe, kneeling before them.

Now, speaking of ideas, Alias has recently reminded me of what a joy it was to watch his puppet production all them months ago. I know my collection of XWF figurines is probably no match compared to all the work he put into the Lamb Chops, sock puppets, and dollies…. But, hey, a little extra use outta the old imagination never hurt anybody!

DOCK waves his over the desk and all the action figures change into actual XWF'ers. Lion-O turned into Miss Fury. Michelangelo to Bobby Bourbon. All the red rangers to identical looking Thunder Knuckles. And the GI-Joe turned into a little Andre Dixon. A mist of pixie D'Ville dust wafts through the air and tickles his nose… He huffs…. He puffs………..

AH!!! CHOOOO!!!!

Next to DOCK a *POOF* happens with his sneeze and the "Cereal Killa" Cadryn Tiberius, DOCK's long, lost jester, appears. It looks like he was in a shower as he's soaking wet, yet fully clothed with a shower cap on, eating Cap'n Crunch no crunch berries from the box.

HAI DAWK!!!!! *GASP* WHATCHA PLAYIN?!?!

NOT NOW!!!

As quickly as Cadryn *POOFED* in, DOCK swatted his gauntlet down on the desk *POOFING* him away again. DOCK looks all around the room, under the desk, back and forth, forth and back until he lets out a sigh of relief and grabs the Fury toy.

Grrrr!!! Order in the court!! Order in the court!!!

DOCK chuckles and acts out a scene we might remember from an Andre Dixon experience.

Guilty!!! Blahahahahaha harharharhar!!!! Get him Ghost Tank!!!

DOCK tosses the Fury figurine down and produces an even bigger T-rex from under the desk and slams it down onto Andre!!!

BLAAARRRRRGH!!!! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!!!! Hahaha!!

DOCK stares down at the scene he just made, sighs, then tosses the Andre and T-rex down and gets up out of the chair.

He made it look more fun than what that actually was… oh well. Poor Andre Dixon though, right? The one BoB left out of the stew. The odd man out. I noticed everyone noticed that, too! I even had my doubts about the guy and his loyalty towards a group that could potentially face the Baddies in the end. Que sera, sera. Here's the thing though, everyone, do you think it would really matter? Of course I was an accuser and he denied it all, but even if he was a BoB spy…. Would it really affect the end result of War Games? Don't get me wrong, I have faith in the fellow's abilities, but heh, not if the tables turned and the gun was pointed at me. And to say that I am manipulating this poor soul to do our bidding is just ridiculous. I merely showed the guy what could be. Do you really think BoB are sitting around kicking themselves over the fact they were stuck with literally the weakest of links? I doubt it. Do you think when DisContinuum and BoB clash in the finals that they're going to be pulling any punches? Hardly. They are so excited about the fact they're together that they will literally do whatever it takes to be the strongest team walking out of this thing.

I'll admit, Those Couple Bastards… they're great. They are definitely the best of the group and, of course, currently holding the top spot in not just one Tag Team Division… but TWO!! Bobby Bourbon just defeated Corey Smith for the Television Title and Fury is basically the face, chest, and toes of Anarchy. Should we all be concerned about allowing this to happen? Or did everyone not care? I chuckled a bit at the thought of them rampaging through War Games like some super group and then I remembered something! It's JUST BoB.

Duke and I beat the team that dominated this place for the better part of a year and don't get me started again on how they ended up with BoB. BUT. They know as well as anybody that when I'm in the room, things can change drastically. Odds are turned upside down and chances become the slimmest they can possibly be. Snow Job, I pinned Marf to defend the titles in a match the Bastards could NOT win. Deny me my victory over the Bastards all you want. Steal phrases like Worstein about not getting pinned so they add another, separate column to their win/loss record to save a bit of face. Do whatever it takes to keep that confidence up because it will be all you have. Oswald's money isn't going to help you. Fury with all of her global scheming and enterprising isn't going to help. The only thing that BoB has going for them are the two decorated in all that gold…. But when your absolute best barely even scratches the surface of my worst, you can have all the gold in the world, but all that shit tells me is ya'll lack a DAWK validation. Which you all know, I know, TK and Bobby know… They will never get.

As DOCK paces around the room he notices another red door that just appeared out of thin air.

Ruh roh… Looks like we have some more work to do!

He approaches the door and opens it to reveal a grand hall. A red carpet is laid at his feet to guide him up to a throne where his captain, Thaddeus Duke, approaches a throne. DOCK enters the room and as he crosses the threshold morphs from his nasty, ashy-ness to “OG” Doc… The man in the white suit and hat and sinister smile….. He folds his hands behind his back and approaches the throne where Thaddeus awaits.

Your grace.

Your highness.



]]> <![CDATA[The Curious Call Of The Carnival VIII]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41532 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 21:57:48 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41532
Continued From:
The Curious Call Of The Carnival VII
http://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41508



The camera opens with a shot of a colorful ferris wheel spinning on it’s painted frame. The distant machine carefully comes to a stop as the only cart containing riders reaches the peak. The silhouettes of two people put their hands in the air as a faint ‘Woooo!’ rides through the starry night air. The full moon delightfully dances in the darkness as a multitude of colorful rays shine out of it’s core as if it were a lunar disco ball. Vivid moonshine illuminates the path between the trees as our quartet of heroes walks out from behind the camera. The shirtless man leading the carnie crew gazes up at the ferris wheel as he walks between the gentle green giants.

You’ve come back to life just like me, haven’t ya, Chippewa?

The bruised and battered figure pauses briefly as he turns around to face the four killers following along his path. As the man turns around the camera is greeted to a frame full of Charlie’s newfound green eyes and classic toothy grin.

Just like we all have.

Charlie quickly turns back around and continues to lead his rough and tumble team towards the vibrant ferris wheel decked out with multi-color lighting.

The world could never leave us behind. No matter how hard they try to bury us, no matter how much they wish to dance on our graves, we will never crumble beneath the shifting sands of time. We are built to withstand the never ending games we play. Built to stand together against our common foes.

We may be four different people, but we have four similar intentions to destroy everyone at War Games. They can all downplay our team as much as they want, deep down every one of those sniveling fucks are afraid of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if those over hyped assholes in BoB kidnapped us. Always terrified to do anything as individuals, these blowhards can’t even go to the bathroom without several others accompanying them. Of course those bleeding pussies would want to get us all out of their way.

It ain’t BOB. They don’t have the gumption or the gonads to pull something like this off. Like I said before… Miss Fury being some super villain is about as believable as a shitty comic strip. Or as believable as a young college dropout who uses the word “dear” like a grandma serving warm cookies and milk. Not even her attempts at being patronizing are convincing. It’s as believable as the Baddies trying to convince the world that Ghost Tank is suddenly good at wrestling when he can’t even figure out how to beat one of Ned Kaye’s BACKUPS. Get the fuck outta’ here.

She’s offended that I’m not buying her Disney-evil bullshit, yet she wants the world-over to think she’s the helpless victim of a sexual assault. Fury can’t have it both ways, or else Vinnie Lane will be walking like Bret Kavanaugh. But that’s the thing with Fury, for an evil mastermind she can’t seem to keep her story straight. She’s too dumb to realize how transparently dependent the Baddies, and the bWo for that matter, are on the XWF.

Without the XWF, her little bWo sandbox doesn’t exist. If she really wanted to take down this federation because she’s sooo evil, why not start an ACTUAL rival company? Not one that streams on XWF platforms and funnels ad revenue back into the best wrestling business on earth, the one I work for, the same one that cuts her paycheck.

Fuck Miss Fury.

What's the next attention seeking ploy once things run stale? We’ve seen it with these gassed up wrestling stables time and again.

How about the bWo Wolfpack, led by Lycana and a bunch of other washed up bitches?

It’s only a matter of time before their force-fed oversaturation dries them out. That’s why Fury was so desperate to sign me to BOB, and obviously so put-off that I won’t endorse their nonsense, or validate them by joining the imaginary war against them. Sorry Fury, but you don’t intimidate me. I beat the best wrestler in yer’ stable when I was sixteen, and I’m going to LOVE doing it again at War Games.

” We cannot talk about stables unless we talk about the walking shit show known as B.o.B… Now is the time to shut this whole B.o.B. deal down. I’ve realized now more than ever, if I do not protect what belongs to me, then sooner or later it belongs to someone else. I’m not sure what kind of lying ass holes that you have been dealing with, but I’m a man of my word… I said from the moment I walked back into this federation that I would demolish B.o.B. and that’s exactly what I’m going to do... It’s strenuous taking Tag Team Championships from those bingo hall wrestling OCW guys, we know… Stupendous job, taking candy away from a couple of babies… For the past few months this federation has allowed B.o.B to gain a foothold, confused who is really in charge… And what’s going to happen to the spineless cowards come Wargames is going to be hard to watch, but I cannot allow myself to ignore the rules I’ve always lived by. I cannot and will not let what happened to me slide. You wanted a reaction out of me, you wanted me to get upset, well fuckers… I’m pissed… And make no mistake about it, this isn’t about being “undefeated” in Wargames anymore… It’s about putting four chicken shit bitches in their rightful places on the fucking pecking order. It’s about walking out with the heads of my enemies, while serving a fresh helping of humble pie… B.o.B. no one is listening to your regurgitated bird wisdom any longer… It will be difficult saying anything with your jaws wired shut…”

Charlie nods with performative agreement at each of the carnies as they say their piece. The four of them approach the psychedelic ferris wheel as two mysterious figures remain perched in a cart at the top of the ride. Charlie steps onto the operator’s platform and places his right hand atop a light blue control panel before turning to look back at his winning war games team.

If only it were that simple. In truth, none of those teams have the leadership necessary to pull off anything as perfectly devious as this plot. The captains of those teams are far too caught up in their own little worlds. They have no idea how to bring the best, and the worst, out of their team members! None of them could have rallied their teams early enough to pull off such an elaborate and intricate plot. Not little Dicklet, not baby boy Duke, and certainly not the cheap comic book knockoff in desperate need of a pair of anime titties. The kidnapping of her precious little Herschel Kiss has likely given the very concept a sour taste in her mouth.

Maybe she’s still cleaning the spooge of failure from her gums after dropping to her knees in front of King Doc.

OH MY LIEGE! PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO MY THROBBING PUSSY!

Because we all know how evil people bend the knee.

Oh but I’m sure it was just all “a part of the plan”, just like that other old man she’s been blowing for clout, CCP.

Now she’s having to distance herself from that absolute shit show before he humiliates BOB any further. Anyone heard from Ranma, or Rainman, or whatever that nursing home reject Page threatened the world with as the next BOB member? Guess Ranma took one look at BOB and didn't return the call.

No fucking wonder Fury’s embarssed. And if she ain’t, she should be.

Outside of being with a man who has a better chance of pleasuring her with his nose, rather than his half-functioning genitals, it looks like Fury, the MASTERMIND is finally realizing that she got taken for a ride on the carousel of Page’s waning ego and relevance. Talk about dysfunction, she pretends to be evil, Page pretends to be good, all the while poor Bourbon has been trying to tell the world that he’s just a normal guy.

So it has to be Corey's team that kidnapped us? The Korean Twinkie squad or whatever the fuck the call themselves. Those comrades have been sitting around a campfire jerking themselves off a little too much, even for Corey. It’s impossible to listen to those redundant dipships drone on and on that alone should be some type of war crime. NK might just be the worst of them all, and not just because he smells like moldy turkey blended with sad couch farts. I feel like I won’t just be satisfied hurting him. No, I’ll go further. I’ll show up in his hometown. And at that point, those starving children in North Korea aren’t going to know true suffering until I am done ripping apart their tiny bodies.

A boisterous chuckle emanates from deep inside of Charlie’s gut as he wipes a joyful tear from his eye with his free hand as his occupied hand opens the control console up. Charlie presses a button and the ferris wheel immediately begins to spin once more. The cart containing the two shadowy figures at the peak of the ride begins to slowly circle back towards the ground.

Charlie smiles at Jim Jimson and Drew as the pair of stragglers comes into view. Charlie presses the button in the control console again as the cart containing the two men circles down to the bottom of the ride. Just beneath the surface Robert tries to fight through The Monstrosity’s grip on him seeing his best friend…

This has been fun! It has definitely been a good vacation from all that monotonous bullshit Dick was putting me through in his recorded promos. Thanks, Charlie!

Charlie rolled his eyes as he cracked a knowing smile.

I knew Jim would snitch at the first opportunity.

Hey! He asked me what was going on, so I told him! What’s wrong with that?

Dolly makes some sort of emotive bodily reaction and looks at Charlie with some sort of expression that’s not hateful

What’s going on, Charlie?

Charlie pulls a small photograph out of the blue control panel before he closes it back up.

Charlie did it. And Jim helped…..kinda.

Marf shakes his head faster and faster while his body regains it’s normal size and shape. He trembles all over before straightening up and looking at them all with confusion.

The Monstrosity lifts his nose into the air...

Wait a sec here, is this true? How could that even work? You were tied up with us all...I fuckin saw you up on the cross! And, what the fuck man look at your body! You look like you’ve been in a war!

Charlie had me push him off the top of the ferris wheel and tie him to the cross to make it all look legit!

So it was your dumbass shining those lights? Dumb fuck I oughta put your ass back in the hospital, that shit was annoying as hell.

Now, now, now, Marf- there’s a perfectly good explanation for all of this.

Yeah? And what is it?

Marf crosses his arms just before Robert Main places a calming hand on the malcontent’s shoulder.

"Charlie wanted to make sure we would win the games of war..."

I knew you’d catch on sooner or later. You were the first name on my draft board for a reason. Not Robert Main. YOU. The Monstrosity was who I wanted most of all at my side going into this bloodsport. The Robert Main of old was becoming vulnerable after grinding himself down to nothing while he set record after record and held title after title. The years of wear and tear will take their toll. As Chippewa knows better than all, years of glory can quickly give way to rust and tarnishment.

That’s why I had to bring Robert HERE. To bring YOU back into the fold. Especially with the young up and comer set to share the stage with us. The wiley wildcard, the ace up my sleeve that some didn’t think could make it to the table in time to even the odds. She was turning into a classic blue chipper...but what use do I have for chips of blue? I needed those babies to turn RED! And who better to douse those blue chips with a little bit of redrum than the monstrosity itself?

Dolly glows in an uncouth appreciation for Charlie,

o’captain, my captain. Yer’ a goddamn genius, Charlie.

There was a reason you were the second name on my draft board, baby. A DAMN GOOD REASON. It’s the same reason Betsy bemoans not drafting you when she had the chance. It’s the same reason Dick’s going to look like the biggest self cock-block in human history for drafting Ned Kaye instead of you. It’s the same reason that Corey is whining and bitching, publicly wishing that you had taken Dock’s place in Continuum from the start. It’s the same reason that BoB splits their time evenly between belittling your achievements and trying to get you to join their cult!

You’re fucking fantastic at this professional wrestling shit. I knew all I had to do was ignite that fire, stoke that killer instinct, and you’d be ready to dig graves and turn skulls concave.

And by the way, I heard what you said about my package. I’m glad you liked it.

Charlie winked at Dolly with creepy uncle vibes.

And Marf…..I hope you don’t feel slighted at the notion of having been the number three name on my draft board- I just knew everyone else would overlook you. The other team captains know you can’t be controlled. The hounds of hell can intimidate even the most fearsome handlers. But the thing about hellhounds is you don’t have to control them. You just have to sick them on the right target and let them do their dirty, dirty deeds!

The former tag team partners exchange sly grins before Drew abruptly interrupts-

This whole grand reveal has been fun and all, Charlie, but I do gotta ask, why’d you pick this dump for your little bootcamp exercise? There’s not even any plumbing!

Charlie gazes down at the photograph in his hand with nostalgic fondness.

Chippewa has always held a special place in my heart. Even back when I was just a wee little embryo. Ever since my pa met my ma on this ferris wheel, Chippewa has been kept alive inside of my soul.

What are you talking about, Chuck?

Charlie flipped the photograph around so that everyone could see it.


[bwo][Image: 9zYIuLe.jpg][/bwo]


Little Charlie Nickles was conceived in that cart right there.

Charlie gestures towards the cart that Jim and Drew are sitting in. Both men instantly flash looks of disgust as they hurriedly get off of the ride.

My father operated this ride for years, from the day he turned fourteen to the day the park closed for the final time. He met mother dearest right here, at this ferris wheel. The first time he saw her, the first date he took her on, the first kiss they had…….

Charlie caressed the control panel softly as he gazed up at the acid washed ferris wheel standing tall in the abandoned theme park.

It all happened right here. FAMILIES were born- no, MADE in this park. No family that had been shaped by Chippewa could ever fail, could ever falter. The bonds of loyalty grow too strong inside of these fairgrounds to ever fall by the wayside.

I never had the chance to bring Connie and the kids to Chippewa….the park had been closed for years by the time I was blessed with a family…...but my parents never divorced. I always loved my father and my mother, but my children just could never find it in their hearts to love me….and I think I know why.

We had never experienced Chippewa together.

Charlie hangs his head in shame as he hops off of the operator’s platform. The assembled XWF ‘independent contractors’ turn their backs to the ferris wheel as they watch Charlie Nickles walk past the group before turning around and facing his crew. Charlie’s downward gaze slowly rises.

But now, a new family has been crafted for me by the carnival. A band of warriors, killers, similarly steeped in the sights and sounds of Chippewa. Oh, how I love those old familiar sounds….

You already know exactly what song begins to play from the PA system speakers attached to the ferris wheel. As Charlie’s carnies turn around to investigate the sudden music, they find that the ferris wheel is gone, or rather, transformed into something else entirely. A rickety wooden roller coaster track that’s dressed and beaming with the impossible lighting that’s guided our heroes this entire journey. A single track, fit for a single team leading to a single destination... one singular goal, leading back to where it all began, the Circus Tent.

From the coaster’s reanimated decay you can almost hear every pleaful and pleasant scream of joy it ever harbored. It is in one setting, both like the ruins of wars lost, and the spoils of games won. It’s just like everything else in this dope show: dead with life, inky and luminous, a constant contradiction straddling the border between pleasure and bloodshed.

Now wipe those god damned cocks off your face and let’s go play some carnie games.

Charlie walks through his carnies and steps onto the rickety roller coaster. Marf, Main, and Dolly start wiping the graffiti off their faces before they slowly follow Charlie into the rollercoasting, trickling in one-by-one. The camera zooms in on Charlie’s grinning mug before we start the slow fade to black…..

“We’re all stars now….”


]]>
Continued From:
The Curious Call Of The Carnival VII
http://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41508



The camera opens with a shot of a colorful ferris wheel spinning on it’s painted frame. The distant machine carefully comes to a stop as the only cart containing riders reaches the peak. The silhouettes of two people put their hands in the air as a faint ‘Woooo!’ rides through the starry night air. The full moon delightfully dances in the darkness as a multitude of colorful rays shine out of it’s core as if it were a lunar disco ball. Vivid moonshine illuminates the path between the trees as our quartet of heroes walks out from behind the camera. The shirtless man leading the carnie crew gazes up at the ferris wheel as he walks between the gentle green giants.

You’ve come back to life just like me, haven’t ya, Chippewa?

The bruised and battered figure pauses briefly as he turns around to face the four killers following along his path. As the man turns around the camera is greeted to a frame full of Charlie’s newfound green eyes and classic toothy grin.

Just like we all have.

Charlie quickly turns back around and continues to lead his rough and tumble team towards the vibrant ferris wheel decked out with multi-color lighting.

The world could never leave us behind. No matter how hard they try to bury us, no matter how much they wish to dance on our graves, we will never crumble beneath the shifting sands of time. We are built to withstand the never ending games we play. Built to stand together against our common foes.

We may be four different people, but we have four similar intentions to destroy everyone at War Games. They can all downplay our team as much as they want, deep down every one of those sniveling fucks are afraid of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if those over hyped assholes in BoB kidnapped us. Always terrified to do anything as individuals, these blowhards can’t even go to the bathroom without several others accompanying them. Of course those bleeding pussies would want to get us all out of their way.

It ain’t BOB. They don’t have the gumption or the gonads to pull something like this off. Like I said before… Miss Fury being some super villain is about as believable as a shitty comic strip. Or as believable as a young college dropout who uses the word “dear” like a grandma serving warm cookies and milk. Not even her attempts at being patronizing are convincing. It’s as believable as the Baddies trying to convince the world that Ghost Tank is suddenly good at wrestling when he can’t even figure out how to beat one of Ned Kaye’s BACKUPS. Get the fuck outta’ here.

She’s offended that I’m not buying her Disney-evil bullshit, yet she wants the world-over to think she’s the helpless victim of a sexual assault. Fury can’t have it both ways, or else Vinnie Lane will be walking like Bret Kavanaugh. But that’s the thing with Fury, for an evil mastermind she can’t seem to keep her story straight. She’s too dumb to realize how transparently dependent the Baddies, and the bWo for that matter, are on the XWF.

Without the XWF, her little bWo sandbox doesn’t exist. If she really wanted to take down this federation because she’s sooo evil, why not start an ACTUAL rival company? Not one that streams on XWF platforms and funnels ad revenue back into the best wrestling business on earth, the one I work for, the same one that cuts her paycheck.

Fuck Miss Fury.

What's the next attention seeking ploy once things run stale? We’ve seen it with these gassed up wrestling stables time and again.

How about the bWo Wolfpack, led by Lycana and a bunch of other washed up bitches?

It’s only a matter of time before their force-fed oversaturation dries them out. That’s why Fury was so desperate to sign me to BOB, and obviously so put-off that I won’t endorse their nonsense, or validate them by joining the imaginary war against them. Sorry Fury, but you don’t intimidate me. I beat the best wrestler in yer’ stable when I was sixteen, and I’m going to LOVE doing it again at War Games.

” We cannot talk about stables unless we talk about the walking shit show known as B.o.B… Now is the time to shut this whole B.o.B. deal down. I’ve realized now more than ever, if I do not protect what belongs to me, then sooner or later it belongs to someone else. I’m not sure what kind of lying ass holes that you have been dealing with, but I’m a man of my word… I said from the moment I walked back into this federation that I would demolish B.o.B. and that’s exactly what I’m going to do... It’s strenuous taking Tag Team Championships from those bingo hall wrestling OCW guys, we know… Stupendous job, taking candy away from a couple of babies… For the past few months this federation has allowed B.o.B to gain a foothold, confused who is really in charge… And what’s going to happen to the spineless cowards come Wargames is going to be hard to watch, but I cannot allow myself to ignore the rules I’ve always lived by. I cannot and will not let what happened to me slide. You wanted a reaction out of me, you wanted me to get upset, well fuckers… I’m pissed… And make no mistake about it, this isn’t about being “undefeated” in Wargames anymore… It’s about putting four chicken shit bitches in their rightful places on the fucking pecking order. It’s about walking out with the heads of my enemies, while serving a fresh helping of humble pie… B.o.B. no one is listening to your regurgitated bird wisdom any longer… It will be difficult saying anything with your jaws wired shut…”

Charlie nods with performative agreement at each of the carnies as they say their piece. The four of them approach the psychedelic ferris wheel as two mysterious figures remain perched in a cart at the top of the ride. Charlie steps onto the operator’s platform and places his right hand atop a light blue control panel before turning to look back at his winning war games team.

If only it were that simple. In truth, none of those teams have the leadership necessary to pull off anything as perfectly devious as this plot. The captains of those teams are far too caught up in their own little worlds. They have no idea how to bring the best, and the worst, out of their team members! None of them could have rallied their teams early enough to pull off such an elaborate and intricate plot. Not little Dicklet, not baby boy Duke, and certainly not the cheap comic book knockoff in desperate need of a pair of anime titties. The kidnapping of her precious little Herschel Kiss has likely given the very concept a sour taste in her mouth.

Maybe she’s still cleaning the spooge of failure from her gums after dropping to her knees in front of King Doc.

OH MY LIEGE! PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO MY THROBBING PUSSY!

Because we all know how evil people bend the knee.

Oh but I’m sure it was just all “a part of the plan”, just like that other old man she’s been blowing for clout, CCP.

Now she’s having to distance herself from that absolute shit show before he humiliates BOB any further. Anyone heard from Ranma, or Rainman, or whatever that nursing home reject Page threatened the world with as the next BOB member? Guess Ranma took one look at BOB and didn't return the call.

No fucking wonder Fury’s embarssed. And if she ain’t, she should be.

Outside of being with a man who has a better chance of pleasuring her with his nose, rather than his half-functioning genitals, it looks like Fury, the MASTERMIND is finally realizing that she got taken for a ride on the carousel of Page’s waning ego and relevance. Talk about dysfunction, she pretends to be evil, Page pretends to be good, all the while poor Bourbon has been trying to tell the world that he’s just a normal guy.

So it has to be Corey's team that kidnapped us? The Korean Twinkie squad or whatever the fuck the call themselves. Those comrades have been sitting around a campfire jerking themselves off a little too much, even for Corey. It’s impossible to listen to those redundant dipships drone on and on that alone should be some type of war crime. NK might just be the worst of them all, and not just because he smells like moldy turkey blended with sad couch farts. I feel like I won’t just be satisfied hurting him. No, I’ll go further. I’ll show up in his hometown. And at that point, those starving children in North Korea aren’t going to know true suffering until I am done ripping apart their tiny bodies.

A boisterous chuckle emanates from deep inside of Charlie’s gut as he wipes a joyful tear from his eye with his free hand as his occupied hand opens the control console up. Charlie presses a button and the ferris wheel immediately begins to spin once more. The cart containing the two shadowy figures at the peak of the ride begins to slowly circle back towards the ground.

Charlie smiles at Jim Jimson and Drew as the pair of stragglers comes into view. Charlie presses the button in the control console again as the cart containing the two men circles down to the bottom of the ride. Just beneath the surface Robert tries to fight through The Monstrosity’s grip on him seeing his best friend…

This has been fun! It has definitely been a good vacation from all that monotonous bullshit Dick was putting me through in his recorded promos. Thanks, Charlie!

Charlie rolled his eyes as he cracked a knowing smile.

I knew Jim would snitch at the first opportunity.

Hey! He asked me what was going on, so I told him! What’s wrong with that?

Dolly makes some sort of emotive bodily reaction and looks at Charlie with some sort of expression that’s not hateful

What’s going on, Charlie?

Charlie pulls a small photograph out of the blue control panel before he closes it back up.

Charlie did it. And Jim helped…..kinda.

Marf shakes his head faster and faster while his body regains it’s normal size and shape. He trembles all over before straightening up and looking at them all with confusion.

The Monstrosity lifts his nose into the air...

Wait a sec here, is this true? How could that even work? You were tied up with us all...I fuckin saw you up on the cross! And, what the fuck man look at your body! You look like you’ve been in a war!

Charlie had me push him off the top of the ferris wheel and tie him to the cross to make it all look legit!

So it was your dumbass shining those lights? Dumb fuck I oughta put your ass back in the hospital, that shit was annoying as hell.

Now, now, now, Marf- there’s a perfectly good explanation for all of this.

Yeah? And what is it?

Marf crosses his arms just before Robert Main places a calming hand on the malcontent’s shoulder.

"Charlie wanted to make sure we would win the games of war..."

I knew you’d catch on sooner or later. You were the first name on my draft board for a reason. Not Robert Main. YOU. The Monstrosity was who I wanted most of all at my side going into this bloodsport. The Robert Main of old was becoming vulnerable after grinding himself down to nothing while he set record after record and held title after title. The years of wear and tear will take their toll. As Chippewa knows better than all, years of glory can quickly give way to rust and tarnishment.

That’s why I had to bring Robert HERE. To bring YOU back into the fold. Especially with the young up and comer set to share the stage with us. The wiley wildcard, the ace up my sleeve that some didn’t think could make it to the table in time to even the odds. She was turning into a classic blue chipper...but what use do I have for chips of blue? I needed those babies to turn RED! And who better to douse those blue chips with a little bit of redrum than the monstrosity itself?

Dolly glows in an uncouth appreciation for Charlie,

o’captain, my captain. Yer’ a goddamn genius, Charlie.

There was a reason you were the second name on my draft board, baby. A DAMN GOOD REASON. It’s the same reason Betsy bemoans not drafting you when she had the chance. It’s the same reason Dick’s going to look like the biggest self cock-block in human history for drafting Ned Kaye instead of you. It’s the same reason that Corey is whining and bitching, publicly wishing that you had taken Dock’s place in Continuum from the start. It’s the same reason that BoB splits their time evenly between belittling your achievements and trying to get you to join their cult!

You’re fucking fantastic at this professional wrestling shit. I knew all I had to do was ignite that fire, stoke that killer instinct, and you’d be ready to dig graves and turn skulls concave.

And by the way, I heard what you said about my package. I’m glad you liked it.

Charlie winked at Dolly with creepy uncle vibes.

And Marf…..I hope you don’t feel slighted at the notion of having been the number three name on my draft board- I just knew everyone else would overlook you. The other team captains know you can’t be controlled. The hounds of hell can intimidate even the most fearsome handlers. But the thing about hellhounds is you don’t have to control them. You just have to sick them on the right target and let them do their dirty, dirty deeds!

The former tag team partners exchange sly grins before Drew abruptly interrupts-

This whole grand reveal has been fun and all, Charlie, but I do gotta ask, why’d you pick this dump for your little bootcamp exercise? There’s not even any plumbing!

Charlie gazes down at the photograph in his hand with nostalgic fondness.

Chippewa has always held a special place in my heart. Even back when I was just a wee little embryo. Ever since my pa met my ma on this ferris wheel, Chippewa has been kept alive inside of my soul.

What are you talking about, Chuck?

Charlie flipped the photograph around so that everyone could see it.


[bwo][Image: 9zYIuLe.jpg][/bwo]


Little Charlie Nickles was conceived in that cart right there.

Charlie gestures towards the cart that Jim and Drew are sitting in. Both men instantly flash looks of disgust as they hurriedly get off of the ride.

My father operated this ride for years, from the day he turned fourteen to the day the park closed for the final time. He met mother dearest right here, at this ferris wheel. The first time he saw her, the first date he took her on, the first kiss they had…….

Charlie caressed the control panel softly as he gazed up at the acid washed ferris wheel standing tall in the abandoned theme park.

It all happened right here. FAMILIES were born- no, MADE in this park. No family that had been shaped by Chippewa could ever fail, could ever falter. The bonds of loyalty grow too strong inside of these fairgrounds to ever fall by the wayside.

I never had the chance to bring Connie and the kids to Chippewa….the park had been closed for years by the time I was blessed with a family…...but my parents never divorced. I always loved my father and my mother, but my children just could never find it in their hearts to love me….and I think I know why.

We had never experienced Chippewa together.

Charlie hangs his head in shame as he hops off of the operator’s platform. The assembled XWF ‘independent contractors’ turn their backs to the ferris wheel as they watch Charlie Nickles walk past the group before turning around and facing his crew. Charlie’s downward gaze slowly rises.

But now, a new family has been crafted for me by the carnival. A band of warriors, killers, similarly steeped in the sights and sounds of Chippewa. Oh, how I love those old familiar sounds….

You already know exactly what song begins to play from the PA system speakers attached to the ferris wheel. As Charlie’s carnies turn around to investigate the sudden music, they find that the ferris wheel is gone, or rather, transformed into something else entirely. A rickety wooden roller coaster track that’s dressed and beaming with the impossible lighting that’s guided our heroes this entire journey. A single track, fit for a single team leading to a single destination... one singular goal, leading back to where it all began, the Circus Tent.

From the coaster’s reanimated decay you can almost hear every pleaful and pleasant scream of joy it ever harbored. It is in one setting, both like the ruins of wars lost, and the spoils of games won. It’s just like everything else in this dope show: dead with life, inky and luminous, a constant contradiction straddling the border between pleasure and bloodshed.

Now wipe those god damned cocks off your face and let’s go play some carnie games.

Charlie walks through his carnies and steps onto the rickety roller coaster. Marf, Main, and Dolly start wiping the graffiti off their faces before they slowly follow Charlie into the rollercoasting, trickling in one-by-one. The camera zooms in on Charlie’s grinning mug before we start the slow fade to black…..

“We’re all stars now….”


]]> <![CDATA[Unification Vacation]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41531 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 21:57:20 -0700 HeavensToBetsy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41531 “So where are you taking us this time, Sis?” Shawn Warstein asks, looking over Betsy’s shoulder at the nav screen.

Covering up the destination with her body, she grins mischievously at Shawn and waves her hand to shoo him away. “Don’t you worry about that yet, brother mine! Don’t sweat a thing, though, this one is going to be a treat.”

“Where have I heard that before?” He mumbles good-naturedly enough, taking a seat in the pilot's chair.

Beyond them are Reggie Estrada and Lycana, both of whom are still walking around the engine room in shock. Reggie is gawking slightly, as he tries to wrap his head around the vast difference in dimensions between the interior and exterior. Lycana’s eyes were lit up in fascination, taking in every last detail of the churning engine. She turns towards Betsy, eyes wide, a grin threatening to split across her face.

“I have to say, it’s much more pleasurable being a willing passenger than cargo this time around.” Though her tone is light, Betsy can’t help but feel a residual pang of guilt.

“How…” Reggie still seemed a bit in awe as he finally turned his wide eyes to Betsy.

“It’s crazy, right? Time Lord tech is a thing of beauty, especially once you learn to translate Gallifreyan successfully,” The Impossible Traveler gives Reggie an understanding grin. “I guess she’s not so crazy after all.”

“Anyone need some drinks from the cabin? I’m kinda thirsty” when Reggie gets up from his seat to head to the main cabin, he notices something outside their view that resembles a huge Candy Cane. Heading back to his seat with some drinks in his hands, he hands one to Betsy. “Hey uh, I see a huge candy cane from outside, aren’t we heading to uh?.... What the hell Bets! You said I wouldn’t have to come back to this place ever again!” Noticing the candy cane from his chair. “This…. This…. Cannot and will not be forgiven!” As he takes a sip of water, he notices some hostility. “Look… lets all chill-out, and see what’s out there, I mean, at some point, we need to land on this planet.”. Then he observes a rainbow flowing at their ship out of nowhere. “I think it’s a message for us to go to the planet, I don’t know about y’all but I want to explore this place!”

“This can’t be…” her voice catches as a horrible feeling begins to sink into her stomach.

Lycana’s eyes narrow as she joins Reggie to look out of the window. Shawn stands next to her and finally, Betsy comes to stand next to Reggie. They all look out with different expressions on their faces, but none of them are joyful. Running back to her nav-screen, Betsy begins punching buttons and pulling levers like a madwoman. Warstein tears his eyes away from the view in time to catch the panicked look across her face. They lock eyes for a long moment until a rough jerk from the outside of the ship takes all of them off their feet. The transmission beacon crackles to life and all four of them turn towards it, to be met by…

“Miss Fury?” Lycana snarls, getting to her feet first and lunging towards the hologram of their opposing team captain.

A cold cackle emits from the hologram. “If that’s what you wish to call me. I am the Magistrate of this planet and you are trespassers here. What is your business?”

Climbing to her feet, Betsy approaches the hologram. “No business, just passing through when someone tossed out a rainbow and found my ship. Get us free and we’ll be on our way.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible… Impossible Traveler.”

“Fuck me.” Betsy turns to Reggie and nods. “I guess we’re exploring… But on our terms." Slamming down on a large silver button, Betsy ends the transmission and takes up the controls of Excellence. Her face set with determination, she meets the eye of all three of her current companions. “You guys and gal might want to find something to hold on to. This is gonna be a rough landing.”

While everyone was getting on their seats and bucking up, Reggie then saw the hologram. “Shit, I have no idea that this place was “guarded” or shhhh---” Reggie then quickly got to his seat but he fell on the floor as the ship lurched towards its destination; everyone looked at him while he was laughing at himself. “Shit that fuckin hurt, but I hope we get to the place, and your right Besty I shoulda listen to you.”

Lycana gracefully takes a chair directly behind Betsy and studies her intensely. “Is this the same one as before?”

Betsy throws Lycana a rueful expression over her shoulder. “I don’t know yet, but it does look similar. I suppose the plus side this time is that our minds haven’t been invaded… Yet.”

“Not this time,” Lycana growls, her fists clenching as she remembers the flashes of their last visit.

Shawn nods his agreement, another victim of the aliens who had kidnapped her and Legacy; them and certain figures that were heavy on Betsy’s mind at the time. The fact that the hologram had taken the shape of Miss Fury caused her concern; she wondered how many other BoB’s they would run into amid this dangerous adventure. Clearing her mind of these thoughts, she takes a look around to make sure everyone is secured. Satisfied, Betsy frantically runs circles around the control console, finagling controls and keeping a grip on the large wheel. As they enter the atmosphere, Excellence begins to shake violently, setting off several alarms at the same time. Cursing out loud, Betsy races around to the other side of the control console and begins pumping on another level rapidly. Checking the gauges, she shouts over all the noise. “HANG ON!”

Grabbing the landing lever, she yanks it towards her with all her strength; a moment later, Excellence makes a bumpy, skidding landing across the surface of the strange world. One more violent shake-up and Excellence finally falls still. The alarms stop blaring as a bit of smoke begins to seep from the churning engine. Looking around, Betsy examines each of her companions for any damage. Though a bit shook, everyone seems to be unscathed, allowing her to let out a relieved sigh. It’s only then that she realizes she has a death grip on the steering wheel; she releases it with trembling hands, taking in a deep breath. On shaky legs, she heads up the ramp and throws open both doors. What she sees outside causes her to let out a startled gasp, attracting the attention of her companions. They join her at the door and mirror her bewildered expression.

The once gorgeous world of Candyland had been reduced to flames and ash. Betsy had managed to land Excellence just outside the Lollipop forest, which looked like it had gone through a brushfire recently. Colorful discs that had brightened up the black licorice branches were melted and smeared, giving off a ghoulish look. Spearmint grass was trampled over and left destroyed, leaving only a trail of dried molasses in its wake. Scattered along the path were the bodies of soldiers in bright uniforms with Princess Lollipop’s crest emblazoned on the chest plates. Sucking in her breath between her teeth, Betsy finally tears her eyes away from the carnage in front of them towards the castle on the horizon.

“I don’t know what I’ve gotten us into this time,” Betsy starts slowly, “but I’m already sorry for it. And I don’t know about you… But I’d like to get to the bottom of this once and for all.”

As all four of them walk along the open area near the castle, it quickly turns to nightfall with the moon rising rapidly. Reggie approaches one of the fallen soldiers and pulls out a sword to thwart the army of evil gummy bears, who were approaching fast with their weapons raised. Just as the Gummy Bear Militia reaches them, the sun rises quickly back into the sky. The sudden wave of heat causes the Gummy Bear Militia to melt on the spot, just before the first wave could reach their feet. “Damn, kinda reminds me of Ocarina Of Time or something”. This earns Reggie a shrug from Shawn and a confused glance from Betsy and Lycana. Reggie turns back to face ahead and nearly falls headfirst into the marmalade-filled moat in front of him.

“Hey you guys, I think we made it to the moat of this castle, but I don’t think they’re going to let down the bridge for us,” Reggie calls out to the rest. Shawn and Besty do a headcount of the guards just beyond, taking note as to who was in control of the entry. Together, they concoct a plan to get the door down, using some kind of whistle device; moments later, the door to the portcullis opens and the bridge is lowered for them to cross. “We come in peace, we are just here to do some business with your lord BOB”. The response is immediate: the two guards closest to them aim their weapons at Reggie. Before they can attack, Shawn uses a Smoke Bomb to blind the guards as Lycana shoots them with her arrows.

“While I appreciate your direct approach, how about we let me do the talking next time?” Betsy suggests as patiently as she can. She and the gang move forward as Reggie slowly walks behind them with his head low from what Betsy told him. As they move along in the castle, they hear some random noise in the corridors,

“What is that noise, it sounds like they’re chanting some weird shit,” Shawn says out loud.

As they get closer to the sound, they see four witches chanting out “BOB” around a fire. Betsy holds up a hand to halt the others and puts a finger to her lips. She jabs a well-manicured finger towards the witches, who remained in their true form for the moment. Hideous and misshapen, the four witches were chanting in unison in a language Betsy couldn’t recognize. Just over her shoulder, she can feel Shawn tensing up, ready for a fight. Lycana’s eyes are glowing a dangerous shade of violet, a low growl escaping from deep within her throat. Betsy begins to glow, feeling her powers wanting to break free and play. Reggie, however, grows impatient with waiting; with a cry of war, he runs out from the corner and begins swinging his sword at everything he can reach. The witches scream and quickly morph into Miss Fury, Oswald, and the tag champions TK and Bobby. Both teams draw their weapons and prepare for battle.

“Uh Betsy, I'm out of ammo!” Lycana screams as her arrows are depleted from her crossbow. As if the universe was listening to her at that exact moment, Lycana somehow manages to summon a smaller version of Mjolnir; channeling the power of Thor, she lets out a primal scream as she takes a mighty swing at Bobby Bourbon. Shawn spots a broken crowbar lying discarded; running over and scooping it up, he proceeds to slam it with all his weight behind it on the gelatinous body of Bobby Bourbon. Meanwhile, Betsy was using her HeavensToBetsy wand to channel her powers to beat up Fury and TK at the same time.

Reggie, who had been disarmed by Miss Fury earlier in the melee, was now on the sidelines watching his partners taking down the BOB witches. He sees Betsy being overpowered by Fury and TK as they use their Whiskey and Flame magic on her to knock her out. Reggie bounds over to her to make the save. “Are you okay, Betsy?” he asks as she gets to her feet.

Eyes flashing, Betsy snaps in a rare display of temper. “Maybe you ought to stay out of this one, okay?” Betsy’s tone made it clear that it was more a demand than a question. Lycana and Shawn appear at either side of her, having untangled themselves from the fray.

“Reggie, this battle is NOT in your area of expertise, so do us a favor and stay out of our way,” Shawn tells Reggie. Without waiting for a replay, Shawn and Lycana both turn and run off to save Betsy, who was currently the victim of a four-on-one beat down.

“Looks like I'm not wanted in this fight,” Reggie mutters to no one, watching Shawn and Lycana make the save for Betsy. After a few minutes of watching the battle rage on, Reggie turns his back on them all and heads to the other side of the castle, exploring every room along the way. He finally enters a room that contains a rustic old speaker box standing on the table. “Reg--Reggie… are you there?” As the speaker box comes to life, Reggie's eyes wander around until he sees the speaker box. “Charlie?...is that you?...” Lost in his discovery, Reggie temporarily forgets the world around him and what’s happening within it.

The battle in the great hall continues, with neither friend nor foe realizing Reggie’s disappearance.

“These guys are too overpowered for just the four of us to take down!” Lycana shouts to Betsy as they meet during battle, pressing their back against one another. All around them, a swarm of mindless BoB Soldiers surround them, moving in slowly.

“They aren’t aren’t too powerful for us to take down, just more fucking difficult than anticipated,” Shawn yells at the ladies. When he turns back towards the battle, he gets punched in the jaw by Oswald which briefly knocks him out. As Fury, Bourbon, and TK gang up on Betsy and Lycana, a mysterious man in the shadows comes back into the fight with white face paint and long black hair with a black shirt on holding a baseball bat in his hand. “Who the fuck is this guy?” Shawn, still groggy from the blow, slowly gets on his feet to observe the newcomer.

Without a word, the painted-up stranger advances towards them. In his hands is the deadliest morning star any of them had ever seen. Lifting it into the air and spinning it dangerously, the painted stranger begins taking out the BoBbies, one by one. Then he sees Miss Fury plea for mercy, even almost giving some lip service down his pants.

“FACE PAINTED DUDE WATCH OUT!” screams Shawn as the mysterious guy ducks a chair shot from TK that connects to Fury’s face. As TK reels in confusion over what happened, Lycana, Shawn, and Besty all come together with the face-painted guy. “By the powers vested in me... BE GONE BOB WITCHES!”

The result was equal parts horrific and oddly satisfying. A ball of flames shoots from the mysterious man’s hands as he throws them out towards the BoB witches. All four of them begin to scream as they melt into a liquid cherry Jello. Their soldiers disappear from existence as silence suddenly falls in the great hall. Shawn, Lycana, and Betsy all slump against one another dropping their weapons and breathing heavily. The Face-Painted Stranger stares down at them, taking in their battle wounds and exhaustion. Once she’s caught her breath enough, Betsy pulls herself up to her knees and stares up at the mysterious addition to their group. She opens her mouth to begin to ask who he was, when she looks around, realizing for the first time that Reggie was no longer with them. Closing her mouth, she gets to her feet and approaches the stranger, scrutinizing every feature of his face. Recognizing something in the eyes, she gasps loudly and takes a step back.

“Reggie! But… What happened? How did you get such a cool power… And where did you find face paint?” she marvels, circling him slowly.

Lycana and Shawn also get to their feet, looking over at Reggie with distrust written all over their faces. Before he could formulate an answer, the liquid cherry Jello that had been spreading across the stone floors began to flow back towards the middle of the room. The team watches silently as four humanoid shapes begin to materialize before their very eyes. Much to each of their chagrin, the team of BoB witches reformed, all of them cackling gleefully. The laughter doesn’t reach their eyes, however; Miss Fury steps forward, her face cold despite the chuckle in her tone.

“Did you think it would be that easy to dispose of us?” Miss Fury shakes her head in disappointment. “Tsk, tsk, I thought all four of you would have realized by now: BoB is forever. If you agree to surrender, we might have a place for all of you in our Elite ranks. How does that sound?”

“No fucking deal,” Shawn says, taking up a great sword and stepping forward.

Lycana’s head bobs in agreement as she swings the hammer in her hand, generating blue, crackling energy from the head. Reggie squares his shoulders and allows flames to erupt from his fingertips. Betsy tosses away the wand and allows the plasma energy to build up inside of her, causing a blinding white glow to surround her. Any lingering amusement quickly leaves the BoB witches as they realize that Estrada’s Angels weren’t going to back down. Miss Fury’s face contorted with rage as she spits her words like venom.

“You can’t win, don’t you know that? Every time we are struck down, we come back, more powerful than before! Watch!” With a casual flick of her forefinger, Miss Fury sends all four members of Estrada’s Angels back against the wall with an invisible push.

All of them groaning in pain, they watch with increasing horror as all four BoB Witches lift their hands in the air and begin to chant again. Figures begin to appear all around them: the rest of BoB, Elite or otherwise, begin to materialize around the BoB Witches. The Angels are soon surrounded by a platoon of mindless BoB Drones. Taking up defensive stances, the four members of Estrada’s Angels tense up, ready to take down as many BoBies with them as they can. Betsy, calculating their chances as she always did, looks at her team mournfully. “I’m sorry, you guys. If we don’t make it out of here. I'm sorry you got dragged into my mess.”

“We’re making it out… And we’re taking these mother fuckers out before we go.” Lycana says in a husky tone.

As the platoon and BoB witches advance on their position, a sparkling, circular gold light appears behind the enemies. Pouring from it is Discontinuum, Thad in the lead, followed closely by Dock. Corporate Chaos arrives behind them, looking completely bored with the entire situation. Andre Dixon sneaks through and blends himself among the BoB witches. Another gold circle appears and Faith Unifies Corey and Korea In A Triumphant Holy Alliance of Distinction come running out from inside it. Corey, Alias, and Centurion quickly flank Thad, and all four of them cut their way through the BoB Platoon to stand with Betsy and her crew. North Korean War Criminal looks at everyone in obvious disgust and sticks his nose up in the air, heading towards the back of the hall.

“We heard you could use a little backup!” Alias shouts, taking up a spot beside Betsy. She flashes him a thankful grin, new hope running rampant through her.

The BoB Witches begin to look a bit nervous as another circle appears, this time allowing Acockalypse Now to enter the room. Dick Power looks seductively over everyone, licking his lips towards Lycana and Betsy and making an obscene gesture that was unmistakable to translate. Both women ignore him as Ned Kaye and Geri Vayden enter, looking reluctant to be there. Jim Caedus follows close behind them, making a beeline for Betsy as soon as he’s through. Before the BoB Witches could get their bearings, one last golden circle appears and Charlie’s Carnies enter the mix. Dolly and Betsy lock eyes and grin, seeming to think the same thing without exchanging a word. Charlie looks eager to bash some heads in, no matter who they might end up being. Robert Main joins Betsy, Shawn, and Jim as the teammates fall in with one another naturally enough. Marf and Lycana attach at the hip almost as soon as he’s through.

The staredown is intense as teams break up to join different sides of the fight. Not a sound is made, making the tension in the air even thicker. Suddenly, someone lets out a bellowing war cry and both sides begin to charge at one another. Bodies smack into each other with unforgiving thuds as battle breaks out. Shawn swings his greatsword, managing to catch TK through the middle. There’s a comical look of horror on TK’s face just before his upper half slides free of his bottom half. Miss Fury lets out a scream of rage as she charges at Shawn, but Thad and Corey are there to tackle her to the ground. Meanwhile, Betsy and Lycana double team Bobby Bourbon as Shawn begins to take down anyone that isn't one of the Angels. Reggie continues to attack anything that breathes with his man-made fireballs, taking out Geri Vayden and North Korean War Criminal at the same time.

“Nice shot, Reg!” Ned Kaye yells approvingly before being stabbed through the chest with a spear by Demos. Demos is quickly avenged by his teammate Dolly, who snaps Ned’s neck before Reggie has a chance to reply.

Bodies begin to pile up quickly. Reggie turns and manages to blast Money Oswald, turning him into nothing more than ash. Dick Powers and Demos run one another through with swords as Thad, Corey, Alias, and Dolly are all cursed by Miss Fury into a death-like sleep. Main and Caedus are in a heated confrontation with Corporate Chaos and Andre Dixon. A single misstep on Jim’s part proves fatal; Chaos quickly capitalizes on the error and takes Jim’s head clean off his neck with a broadsword. An animalistic yell escapes Robert as he attacks Chaos and Dixon with more fervor. Producing a gun from a holster hidden beneath his shirt, he aims and shoots Dixon and Chaos down with a single shot between the eyes. Dock, realizing he was the only one left of his team, appears from a shadowy corner and quickly goes on the attack.

Somehow, Estrada’s Angels manage to regroup with one another, all of them panting with exhaustion.

“There’s so many of them… I don’t even know who’s on our side and who isn’t anymore.” Lycana struggles to say through short breaths.

“Then there’s only one thing left to do,” Shawn says, taking in a deep breath. “We kill them all without mercy. At this point, it’s us or them.”

Reggie and Betsy agree without hesitation; Lycana pauses as her eyes skip over to Marf, who was currently holding off Centurion. Betsy puts a hand gently on Lycana’s shoulder, forcing the sapphire-haired beauty to look into the green eyes of her teammate. Swallowing hard, Lycana finally nods, gathering up as many of her arrows as she can and putting them back in her quiver. Relieved, Betsy nods to Shawn and Reggie and all four of them run back into the battle. Betsy and Shawn cover Bobby Bourbon, mercilessly beating him down to his knees. Lycana turns her attention to Miss Fury and the women collide into a flurry of blows. Marf manages to gain the upper hand over Centurion, first breaking his leg, then his arm, and finally stomping his head into the stone floor. Without missing a beat, he hurries to where Lycana is battling Miss Fury and the two begin to overtake the BOB team captain. Shawn and Betsy finally gain the advantage over the much bigger Bourbon; with one clean swing, Shawn takes his head off his body. Betsy lets out a warrior's scream as she retrieves the severed head and lifts it high in the air, blood raining down into her golden hair.

Fury, realizing that she’s completely on her own, turns back towards Lycana and Marf, her face giving away her panic. Suddenly, Dock bursts from the shadows again, coming to the aid of the lonely Miss Fury. His attack stuns Marf and Lycana, who stumbles back into Robert Main. He pushes his way through them and lunges for Dock’s throat, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of the old man’s neck. Dock screams and pushes Main off of him, his eyes glowing a malevolent red. Betsy appears from behind and grabbing Dock by the head with both hands, sends a wave of pure plasma energy into his brain. Main and Betsy watch as Dock’s face melts from his skull and his body crumbles heavily to the ground. Betsy turns to grin at Main for a job well done, but her expression twists to shock as Reggie appears at her side and sends a blast of fire straight into Main’s face. The Omega bursts into flames and quickly falls to the floor as ashes at their feet. Betsy looks over at Reggie, who grins back at her and blows on his fingers.

Shawn, Reggie, and Betsy join Lycana and Marf, who is still battling an irate Miss Fury. In her anger, the witch has trouble maintaining the stolen image of Miss Fury, revealing her true, hideous face in the process. The survivors of the melee surround her, Betsy taking the forefront and planting her hands on her hips.

“Now… You’re going to answer some questions and I don’t want any bullshit.” the Impossible Traveler says in an authoritative tone. “This is the second time you’ve brought me and my co-workers to this place, why? What do you want with me and why do you feel the need to involve them?”

Miss Fury smirks as she backs herself against the wall. “I thought you were meant to be smarter than this, Impossible One. Haven’t you figured it out yet? WE aren’t the ones who want you; we’re just hired guns. Well, I’m a hired gun for who wants you, the rest of them are just my henchmen who do whatever I tell them.”

“Fine… Then tell me who it is that wants me and maybe we’ll let you live.” Betsy snarls, retrieving a dagger from a hidden sheath under her belt and holding it to Fury’s throat.

Miss Fury only tips her head back and laughs hysterically. “Do you think I’m scared of you and you’re trivial threats? The man I work for is infinitely more horrifying and merciless. Even if you let me go free, I’m a dead woman.”

“Then there’s no harm in telling us what we want to know.” Lycana chimes in, pointing her crossbow at Fury.

“You’ll never have the information you seek from my lips.” Fury declares defiantly, grabbing at Betsy’s hand and dragging the dagger across her own throat.

Blood pours onto Betsy’s hands as Fury slumps over dead, bleeding out from the deep, self-inflicted cut. Letting out a frustrated scream, Betsy falls to her knees and slams her fists repeatedly against the ground. She isn’t the only one in obvious distress; as Betsy rubs roughly at her eyes and wills herself not to weep, Lycana turns to Marf with a look of sorrow. His eyes widen in surprise as she aims the final arrow in her crossbow at his heart.

“I’m so sorry…” she tells him in a thick voice. He tries to protest, but Lycana’s shot is true. The arrow pierces his heart clean through. His eyes grow wide with horror as his mouth drops open just before he slumps over. The job finished, Lycana drops her crossbow and falls to the ground, covering her face.

Betsy crawls over to Lycana and throws her arms around the distraught woman. Reggie and Shawn are still in shock, though both are quietly overjoyed by her actions.

“Perhaps it’s time we get back home,” Shawn says slowly, never taking his eyes off the women. “The longer we stay here, the more fucked up our heads are going to get.”

Getting to her feet and helping Lycana onto hers, Betsy nods her agreement and pushes past her team. They follow their captain, maintaining the uncomfortable silence back to the ship. It’s only once they are inside that Betsy takes a good, hard look at the people who fought beside her. All of them showed signs of battle, sweat and blood plastered to their skin. Motioning for them to follow, she leads them to another room on the ship that acted as a locker room. Each member of the team enters a shower stall and cleans themself up before changing into fresh clothes provided by Excellence. They meet back in the main cabin, all of them crashing in exhaustion into chairs around the control panel.

“Well, that certainly didn’t go as planned,” Betsy remarks, her voice full of sarcasm.

“No… But it wasn’t necessarily a wasted trip, either.” Shawn says, earning a confused look from his ‘sister’. He shrugs and motions towards Lycana. “Now I know that when she says she’s for the team, she’s really for the team.” He points to Reggie. “And who knew this guy packed that big of a punch? Seriously, what was all that?"

“Alter ego type stuff… That’s a story for another day.” Reggie says with a yawn. Before any of them could ask him to elaborate, Reggie stretches himself out and falls asleep.

“I… need to be alone,” Lycana says and disappears towards the bedrooms that Betsy had set up for them.

Shawn and Betsy exchange a glance before Shawn shrugs and takes up a seat across from Betsy’s pilot's chair. Allowing the silence to fall between them, Betsy navigates her team back to Earth, reflecting on the disaster her plans had turned into… Again.
]]> “So where are you taking us this time, Sis?” Shawn Warstein asks, looking over Betsy’s shoulder at the nav screen.

Covering up the destination with her body, she grins mischievously at Shawn and waves her hand to shoo him away. “Don’t you worry about that yet, brother mine! Don’t sweat a thing, though, this one is going to be a treat.”

“Where have I heard that before?” He mumbles good-naturedly enough, taking a seat in the pilot's chair.

Beyond them are Reggie Estrada and Lycana, both of whom are still walking around the engine room in shock. Reggie is gawking slightly, as he tries to wrap his head around the vast difference in dimensions between the interior and exterior. Lycana’s eyes were lit up in fascination, taking in every last detail of the churning engine. She turns towards Betsy, eyes wide, a grin threatening to split across her face.

“I have to say, it’s much more pleasurable being a willing passenger than cargo this time around.” Though her tone is light, Betsy can’t help but feel a residual pang of guilt.

“How…” Reggie still seemed a bit in awe as he finally turned his wide eyes to Betsy.

“It’s crazy, right? Time Lord tech is a thing of beauty, especially once you learn to translate Gallifreyan successfully,” The Impossible Traveler gives Reggie an understanding grin. “I guess she’s not so crazy after all.”

“Anyone need some drinks from the cabin? I’m kinda thirsty” when Reggie gets up from his seat to head to the main cabin, he notices something outside their view that resembles a huge Candy Cane. Heading back to his seat with some drinks in his hands, he hands one to Betsy. “Hey uh, I see a huge candy cane from outside, aren’t we heading to uh?.... What the hell Bets! You said I wouldn’t have to come back to this place ever again!” Noticing the candy cane from his chair. “This…. This…. Cannot and will not be forgiven!” As he takes a sip of water, he notices some hostility. “Look… lets all chill-out, and see what’s out there, I mean, at some point, we need to land on this planet.”. Then he observes a rainbow flowing at their ship out of nowhere. “I think it’s a message for us to go to the planet, I don’t know about y’all but I want to explore this place!”

“This can’t be…” her voice catches as a horrible feeling begins to sink into her stomach.

Lycana’s eyes narrow as she joins Reggie to look out of the window. Shawn stands next to her and finally, Betsy comes to stand next to Reggie. They all look out with different expressions on their faces, but none of them are joyful. Running back to her nav-screen, Betsy begins punching buttons and pulling levers like a madwoman. Warstein tears his eyes away from the view in time to catch the panicked look across her face. They lock eyes for a long moment until a rough jerk from the outside of the ship takes all of them off their feet. The transmission beacon crackles to life and all four of them turn towards it, to be met by…

“Miss Fury?” Lycana snarls, getting to her feet first and lunging towards the hologram of their opposing team captain.

A cold cackle emits from the hologram. “If that’s what you wish to call me. I am the Magistrate of this planet and you are trespassers here. What is your business?”

Climbing to her feet, Betsy approaches the hologram. “No business, just passing through when someone tossed out a rainbow and found my ship. Get us free and we’ll be on our way.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible… Impossible Traveler.”

“Fuck me.” Betsy turns to Reggie and nods. “I guess we’re exploring… But on our terms." Slamming down on a large silver button, Betsy ends the transmission and takes up the controls of Excellence. Her face set with determination, she meets the eye of all three of her current companions. “You guys and gal might want to find something to hold on to. This is gonna be a rough landing.”

While everyone was getting on their seats and bucking up, Reggie then saw the hologram. “Shit, I have no idea that this place was “guarded” or shhhh---” Reggie then quickly got to his seat but he fell on the floor as the ship lurched towards its destination; everyone looked at him while he was laughing at himself. “Shit that fuckin hurt, but I hope we get to the place, and your right Besty I shoulda listen to you.”

Lycana gracefully takes a chair directly behind Betsy and studies her intensely. “Is this the same one as before?”

Betsy throws Lycana a rueful expression over her shoulder. “I don’t know yet, but it does look similar. I suppose the plus side this time is that our minds haven’t been invaded… Yet.”

“Not this time,” Lycana growls, her fists clenching as she remembers the flashes of their last visit.

Shawn nods his agreement, another victim of the aliens who had kidnapped her and Legacy; them and certain figures that were heavy on Betsy’s mind at the time. The fact that the hologram had taken the shape of Miss Fury caused her concern; she wondered how many other BoB’s they would run into amid this dangerous adventure. Clearing her mind of these thoughts, she takes a look around to make sure everyone is secured. Satisfied, Betsy frantically runs circles around the control console, finagling controls and keeping a grip on the large wheel. As they enter the atmosphere, Excellence begins to shake violently, setting off several alarms at the same time. Cursing out loud, Betsy races around to the other side of the control console and begins pumping on another level rapidly. Checking the gauges, she shouts over all the noise. “HANG ON!”

Grabbing the landing lever, she yanks it towards her with all her strength; a moment later, Excellence makes a bumpy, skidding landing across the surface of the strange world. One more violent shake-up and Excellence finally falls still. The alarms stop blaring as a bit of smoke begins to seep from the churning engine. Looking around, Betsy examines each of her companions for any damage. Though a bit shook, everyone seems to be unscathed, allowing her to let out a relieved sigh. It’s only then that she realizes she has a death grip on the steering wheel; she releases it with trembling hands, taking in a deep breath. On shaky legs, she heads up the ramp and throws open both doors. What she sees outside causes her to let out a startled gasp, attracting the attention of her companions. They join her at the door and mirror her bewildered expression.

The once gorgeous world of Candyland had been reduced to flames and ash. Betsy had managed to land Excellence just outside the Lollipop forest, which looked like it had gone through a brushfire recently. Colorful discs that had brightened up the black licorice branches were melted and smeared, giving off a ghoulish look. Spearmint grass was trampled over and left destroyed, leaving only a trail of dried molasses in its wake. Scattered along the path were the bodies of soldiers in bright uniforms with Princess Lollipop’s crest emblazoned on the chest plates. Sucking in her breath between her teeth, Betsy finally tears her eyes away from the carnage in front of them towards the castle on the horizon.

“I don’t know what I’ve gotten us into this time,” Betsy starts slowly, “but I’m already sorry for it. And I don’t know about you… But I’d like to get to the bottom of this once and for all.”

As all four of them walk along the open area near the castle, it quickly turns to nightfall with the moon rising rapidly. Reggie approaches one of the fallen soldiers and pulls out a sword to thwart the army of evil gummy bears, who were approaching fast with their weapons raised. Just as the Gummy Bear Militia reaches them, the sun rises quickly back into the sky. The sudden wave of heat causes the Gummy Bear Militia to melt on the spot, just before the first wave could reach their feet. “Damn, kinda reminds me of Ocarina Of Time or something”. This earns Reggie a shrug from Shawn and a confused glance from Betsy and Lycana. Reggie turns back to face ahead and nearly falls headfirst into the marmalade-filled moat in front of him.

“Hey you guys, I think we made it to the moat of this castle, but I don’t think they’re going to let down the bridge for us,” Reggie calls out to the rest. Shawn and Besty do a headcount of the guards just beyond, taking note as to who was in control of the entry. Together, they concoct a plan to get the door down, using some kind of whistle device; moments later, the door to the portcullis opens and the bridge is lowered for them to cross. “We come in peace, we are just here to do some business with your lord BOB”. The response is immediate: the two guards closest to them aim their weapons at Reggie. Before they can attack, Shawn uses a Smoke Bomb to blind the guards as Lycana shoots them with her arrows.

“While I appreciate your direct approach, how about we let me do the talking next time?” Betsy suggests as patiently as she can. She and the gang move forward as Reggie slowly walks behind them with his head low from what Betsy told him. As they move along in the castle, they hear some random noise in the corridors,

“What is that noise, it sounds like they’re chanting some weird shit,” Shawn says out loud.

As they get closer to the sound, they see four witches chanting out “BOB” around a fire. Betsy holds up a hand to halt the others and puts a finger to her lips. She jabs a well-manicured finger towards the witches, who remained in their true form for the moment. Hideous and misshapen, the four witches were chanting in unison in a language Betsy couldn’t recognize. Just over her shoulder, she can feel Shawn tensing up, ready for a fight. Lycana’s eyes are glowing a dangerous shade of violet, a low growl escaping from deep within her throat. Betsy begins to glow, feeling her powers wanting to break free and play. Reggie, however, grows impatient with waiting; with a cry of war, he runs out from the corner and begins swinging his sword at everything he can reach. The witches scream and quickly morph into Miss Fury, Oswald, and the tag champions TK and Bobby. Both teams draw their weapons and prepare for battle.

“Uh Betsy, I'm out of ammo!” Lycana screams as her arrows are depleted from her crossbow. As if the universe was listening to her at that exact moment, Lycana somehow manages to summon a smaller version of Mjolnir; channeling the power of Thor, she lets out a primal scream as she takes a mighty swing at Bobby Bourbon. Shawn spots a broken crowbar lying discarded; running over and scooping it up, he proceeds to slam it with all his weight behind it on the gelatinous body of Bobby Bourbon. Meanwhile, Betsy was using her HeavensToBetsy wand to channel her powers to beat up Fury and TK at the same time.

Reggie, who had been disarmed by Miss Fury earlier in the melee, was now on the sidelines watching his partners taking down the BOB witches. He sees Betsy being overpowered by Fury and TK as they use their Whiskey and Flame magic on her to knock her out. Reggie bounds over to her to make the save. “Are you okay, Betsy?” he asks as she gets to her feet.

Eyes flashing, Betsy snaps in a rare display of temper. “Maybe you ought to stay out of this one, okay?” Betsy’s tone made it clear that it was more a demand than a question. Lycana and Shawn appear at either side of her, having untangled themselves from the fray.

“Reggie, this battle is NOT in your area of expertise, so do us a favor and stay out of our way,” Shawn tells Reggie. Without waiting for a replay, Shawn and Lycana both turn and run off to save Betsy, who was currently the victim of a four-on-one beat down.

“Looks like I'm not wanted in this fight,” Reggie mutters to no one, watching Shawn and Lycana make the save for Betsy. After a few minutes of watching the battle rage on, Reggie turns his back on them all and heads to the other side of the castle, exploring every room along the way. He finally enters a room that contains a rustic old speaker box standing on the table. “Reg--Reggie… are you there?” As the speaker box comes to life, Reggie's eyes wander around until he sees the speaker box. “Charlie?...is that you?...” Lost in his discovery, Reggie temporarily forgets the world around him and what’s happening within it.

The battle in the great hall continues, with neither friend nor foe realizing Reggie’s disappearance.

“These guys are too overpowered for just the four of us to take down!” Lycana shouts to Betsy as they meet during battle, pressing their back against one another. All around them, a swarm of mindless BoB Soldiers surround them, moving in slowly.

“They aren’t aren’t too powerful for us to take down, just more fucking difficult than anticipated,” Shawn yells at the ladies. When he turns back towards the battle, he gets punched in the jaw by Oswald which briefly knocks him out. As Fury, Bourbon, and TK gang up on Betsy and Lycana, a mysterious man in the shadows comes back into the fight with white face paint and long black hair with a black shirt on holding a baseball bat in his hand. “Who the fuck is this guy?” Shawn, still groggy from the blow, slowly gets on his feet to observe the newcomer.

Without a word, the painted-up stranger advances towards them. In his hands is the deadliest morning star any of them had ever seen. Lifting it into the air and spinning it dangerously, the painted stranger begins taking out the BoBbies, one by one. Then he sees Miss Fury plea for mercy, even almost giving some lip service down his pants.

“FACE PAINTED DUDE WATCH OUT!” screams Shawn as the mysterious guy ducks a chair shot from TK that connects to Fury’s face. As TK reels in confusion over what happened, Lycana, Shawn, and Besty all come together with the face-painted guy. “By the powers vested in me... BE GONE BOB WITCHES!”

The result was equal parts horrific and oddly satisfying. A ball of flames shoots from the mysterious man’s hands as he throws them out towards the BoB witches. All four of them begin to scream as they melt into a liquid cherry Jello. Their soldiers disappear from existence as silence suddenly falls in the great hall. Shawn, Lycana, and Betsy all slump against one another dropping their weapons and breathing heavily. The Face-Painted Stranger stares down at them, taking in their battle wounds and exhaustion. Once she’s caught her breath enough, Betsy pulls herself up to her knees and stares up at the mysterious addition to their group. She opens her mouth to begin to ask who he was, when she looks around, realizing for the first time that Reggie was no longer with them. Closing her mouth, she gets to her feet and approaches the stranger, scrutinizing every feature of his face. Recognizing something in the eyes, she gasps loudly and takes a step back.

“Reggie! But… What happened? How did you get such a cool power… And where did you find face paint?” she marvels, circling him slowly.

Lycana and Shawn also get to their feet, looking over at Reggie with distrust written all over their faces. Before he could formulate an answer, the liquid cherry Jello that had been spreading across the stone floors began to flow back towards the middle of the room. The team watches silently as four humanoid shapes begin to materialize before their very eyes. Much to each of their chagrin, the team of BoB witches reformed, all of them cackling gleefully. The laughter doesn’t reach their eyes, however; Miss Fury steps forward, her face cold despite the chuckle in her tone.

“Did you think it would be that easy to dispose of us?” Miss Fury shakes her head in disappointment. “Tsk, tsk, I thought all four of you would have realized by now: BoB is forever. If you agree to surrender, we might have a place for all of you in our Elite ranks. How does that sound?”

“No fucking deal,” Shawn says, taking up a great sword and stepping forward.

Lycana’s head bobs in agreement as she swings the hammer in her hand, generating blue, crackling energy from the head. Reggie squares his shoulders and allows flames to erupt from his fingertips. Betsy tosses away the wand and allows the plasma energy to build up inside of her, causing a blinding white glow to surround her. Any lingering amusement quickly leaves the BoB witches as they realize that Estrada’s Angels weren’t going to back down. Miss Fury’s face contorted with rage as she spits her words like venom.

“You can’t win, don’t you know that? Every time we are struck down, we come back, more powerful than before! Watch!” With a casual flick of her forefinger, Miss Fury sends all four members of Estrada’s Angels back against the wall with an invisible push.

All of them groaning in pain, they watch with increasing horror as all four BoB Witches lift their hands in the air and begin to chant again. Figures begin to appear all around them: the rest of BoB, Elite or otherwise, begin to materialize around the BoB Witches. The Angels are soon surrounded by a platoon of mindless BoB Drones. Taking up defensive stances, the four members of Estrada’s Angels tense up, ready to take down as many BoBies with them as they can. Betsy, calculating their chances as she always did, looks at her team mournfully. “I’m sorry, you guys. If we don’t make it out of here. I'm sorry you got dragged into my mess.”

“We’re making it out… And we’re taking these mother fuckers out before we go.” Lycana says in a husky tone.

As the platoon and BoB witches advance on their position, a sparkling, circular gold light appears behind the enemies. Pouring from it is Discontinuum, Thad in the lead, followed closely by Dock. Corporate Chaos arrives behind them, looking completely bored with the entire situation. Andre Dixon sneaks through and blends himself among the BoB witches. Another gold circle appears and Faith Unifies Corey and Korea In A Triumphant Holy Alliance of Distinction come running out from inside it. Corey, Alias, and Centurion quickly flank Thad, and all four of them cut their way through the BoB Platoon to stand with Betsy and her crew. North Korean War Criminal looks at everyone in obvious disgust and sticks his nose up in the air, heading towards the back of the hall.

“We heard you could use a little backup!” Alias shouts, taking up a spot beside Betsy. She flashes him a thankful grin, new hope running rampant through her.

The BoB Witches begin to look a bit nervous as another circle appears, this time allowing Acockalypse Now to enter the room. Dick Power looks seductively over everyone, licking his lips towards Lycana and Betsy and making an obscene gesture that was unmistakable to translate. Both women ignore him as Ned Kaye and Geri Vayden enter, looking reluctant to be there. Jim Caedus follows close behind them, making a beeline for Betsy as soon as he’s through. Before the BoB Witches could get their bearings, one last golden circle appears and Charlie’s Carnies enter the mix. Dolly and Betsy lock eyes and grin, seeming to think the same thing without exchanging a word. Charlie looks eager to bash some heads in, no matter who they might end up being. Robert Main joins Betsy, Shawn, and Jim as the teammates fall in with one another naturally enough. Marf and Lycana attach at the hip almost as soon as he’s through.

The staredown is intense as teams break up to join different sides of the fight. Not a sound is made, making the tension in the air even thicker. Suddenly, someone lets out a bellowing war cry and both sides begin to charge at one another. Bodies smack into each other with unforgiving thuds as battle breaks out. Shawn swings his greatsword, managing to catch TK through the middle. There’s a comical look of horror on TK’s face just before his upper half slides free of his bottom half. Miss Fury lets out a scream of rage as she charges at Shawn, but Thad and Corey are there to tackle her to the ground. Meanwhile, Betsy and Lycana double team Bobby Bourbon as Shawn begins to take down anyone that isn't one of the Angels. Reggie continues to attack anything that breathes with his man-made fireballs, taking out Geri Vayden and North Korean War Criminal at the same time.

“Nice shot, Reg!” Ned Kaye yells approvingly before being stabbed through the chest with a spear by Demos. Demos is quickly avenged by his teammate Dolly, who snaps Ned’s neck before Reggie has a chance to reply.

Bodies begin to pile up quickly. Reggie turns and manages to blast Money Oswald, turning him into nothing more than ash. Dick Powers and Demos run one another through with swords as Thad, Corey, Alias, and Dolly are all cursed by Miss Fury into a death-like sleep. Main and Caedus are in a heated confrontation with Corporate Chaos and Andre Dixon. A single misstep on Jim’s part proves fatal; Chaos quickly capitalizes on the error and takes Jim’s head clean off his neck with a broadsword. An animalistic yell escapes Robert as he attacks Chaos and Dixon with more fervor. Producing a gun from a holster hidden beneath his shirt, he aims and shoots Dixon and Chaos down with a single shot between the eyes. Dock, realizing he was the only one left of his team, appears from a shadowy corner and quickly goes on the attack.

Somehow, Estrada’s Angels manage to regroup with one another, all of them panting with exhaustion.

“There’s so many of them… I don’t even know who’s on our side and who isn’t anymore.” Lycana struggles to say through short breaths.

“Then there’s only one thing left to do,” Shawn says, taking in a deep breath. “We kill them all without mercy. At this point, it’s us or them.”

Reggie and Betsy agree without hesitation; Lycana pauses as her eyes skip over to Marf, who was currently holding off Centurion. Betsy puts a hand gently on Lycana’s shoulder, forcing the sapphire-haired beauty to look into the green eyes of her teammate. Swallowing hard, Lycana finally nods, gathering up as many of her arrows as she can and putting them back in her quiver. Relieved, Betsy nods to Shawn and Reggie and all four of them run back into the battle. Betsy and Shawn cover Bobby Bourbon, mercilessly beating him down to his knees. Lycana turns her attention to Miss Fury and the women collide into a flurry of blows. Marf manages to gain the upper hand over Centurion, first breaking his leg, then his arm, and finally stomping his head into the stone floor. Without missing a beat, he hurries to where Lycana is battling Miss Fury and the two begin to overtake the BOB team captain. Shawn and Betsy finally gain the advantage over the much bigger Bourbon; with one clean swing, Shawn takes his head off his body. Betsy lets out a warrior's scream as she retrieves the severed head and lifts it high in the air, blood raining down into her golden hair.

Fury, realizing that she’s completely on her own, turns back towards Lycana and Marf, her face giving away her panic. Suddenly, Dock bursts from the shadows again, coming to the aid of the lonely Miss Fury. His attack stuns Marf and Lycana, who stumbles back into Robert Main. He pushes his way through them and lunges for Dock’s throat, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of the old man’s neck. Dock screams and pushes Main off of him, his eyes glowing a malevolent red. Betsy appears from behind and grabbing Dock by the head with both hands, sends a wave of pure plasma energy into his brain. Main and Betsy watch as Dock’s face melts from his skull and his body crumbles heavily to the ground. Betsy turns to grin at Main for a job well done, but her expression twists to shock as Reggie appears at her side and sends a blast of fire straight into Main’s face. The Omega bursts into flames and quickly falls to the floor as ashes at their feet. Betsy looks over at Reggie, who grins back at her and blows on his fingers.

Shawn, Reggie, and Betsy join Lycana and Marf, who is still battling an irate Miss Fury. In her anger, the witch has trouble maintaining the stolen image of Miss Fury, revealing her true, hideous face in the process. The survivors of the melee surround her, Betsy taking the forefront and planting her hands on her hips.

“Now… You’re going to answer some questions and I don’t want any bullshit.” the Impossible Traveler says in an authoritative tone. “This is the second time you’ve brought me and my co-workers to this place, why? What do you want with me and why do you feel the need to involve them?”

Miss Fury smirks as she backs herself against the wall. “I thought you were meant to be smarter than this, Impossible One. Haven’t you figured it out yet? WE aren’t the ones who want you; we’re just hired guns. Well, I’m a hired gun for who wants you, the rest of them are just my henchmen who do whatever I tell them.”

“Fine… Then tell me who it is that wants me and maybe we’ll let you live.” Betsy snarls, retrieving a dagger from a hidden sheath under her belt and holding it to Fury’s throat.

Miss Fury only tips her head back and laughs hysterically. “Do you think I’m scared of you and you’re trivial threats? The man I work for is infinitely more horrifying and merciless. Even if you let me go free, I’m a dead woman.”

“Then there’s no harm in telling us what we want to know.” Lycana chimes in, pointing her crossbow at Fury.

“You’ll never have the information you seek from my lips.” Fury declares defiantly, grabbing at Betsy’s hand and dragging the dagger across her own throat.

Blood pours onto Betsy’s hands as Fury slumps over dead, bleeding out from the deep, self-inflicted cut. Letting out a frustrated scream, Betsy falls to her knees and slams her fists repeatedly against the ground. She isn’t the only one in obvious distress; as Betsy rubs roughly at her eyes and wills herself not to weep, Lycana turns to Marf with a look of sorrow. His eyes widen in surprise as she aims the final arrow in her crossbow at his heart.

“I’m so sorry…” she tells him in a thick voice. He tries to protest, but Lycana’s shot is true. The arrow pierces his heart clean through. His eyes grow wide with horror as his mouth drops open just before he slumps over. The job finished, Lycana drops her crossbow and falls to the ground, covering her face.

Betsy crawls over to Lycana and throws her arms around the distraught woman. Reggie and Shawn are still in shock, though both are quietly overjoyed by her actions.

“Perhaps it’s time we get back home,” Shawn says slowly, never taking his eyes off the women. “The longer we stay here, the more fucked up our heads are going to get.”

Getting to her feet and helping Lycana onto hers, Betsy nods her agreement and pushes past her team. They follow their captain, maintaining the uncomfortable silence back to the ship. It’s only once they are inside that Betsy takes a good, hard look at the people who fought beside her. All of them showed signs of battle, sweat and blood plastered to their skin. Motioning for them to follow, she leads them to another room on the ship that acted as a locker room. Each member of the team enters a shower stall and cleans themself up before changing into fresh clothes provided by Excellence. They meet back in the main cabin, all of them crashing in exhaustion into chairs around the control panel.

“Well, that certainly didn’t go as planned,” Betsy remarks, her voice full of sarcasm.

“No… But it wasn’t necessarily a wasted trip, either.” Shawn says, earning a confused look from his ‘sister’. He shrugs and motions towards Lycana. “Now I know that when she says she’s for the team, she’s really for the team.” He points to Reggie. “And who knew this guy packed that big of a punch? Seriously, what was all that?"

“Alter ego type stuff… That’s a story for another day.” Reggie says with a yawn. Before any of them could ask him to elaborate, Reggie stretches himself out and falls asleep.

“I… need to be alone,” Lycana says and disappears towards the bedrooms that Betsy had set up for them.

Shawn and Betsy exchange a glance before Shawn shrugs and takes up a seat across from Betsy’s pilot's chair. Allowing the silence to fall between them, Betsy navigates her team back to Earth, reflecting on the disaster her plans had turned into… Again.
]]> <![CDATA[Heart of Darkness VI]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41530 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 21:34:42 -0700 Andre Dixon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41530
As Andre lays there thinking about his past, present, and future his eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier until finally his eyes close and he dozes off. After what seems like a few hours his eyes open and he is standing alone in what appears to be a room with no walls. Even if there was, the darkness around him prevents from seeing further than a couple of feet until a loud bang echoes through the boundless area and a spotlight shines down overtop of him. He looks down to see himself in baggy, gray coveralls and his hands and ankles bound in shackles. He tests the strength of the chains by tugging them apart with no such luck to break them. A deep pain begins to pierce him from inside his gut and he buckles over in agony. When he looks back up a large wooden pedestal stands before him. He follows it with his eyes all of the way up where the Honorable Judge Miss Fury sits with a gavel in her grasp high above her head. In a downward motion, she swings the gavel down and it booms several times delivering another deafening echo.

Fury- "Order in this court!" She directs her shout down at Andre.

Fury- "Bailiff!! If our defendant cannot stand, provide him with a proper seat!" Her voice carries and repeats through the giant hall.

Bb- "Yes, your honor."

Bailiff Bourbon manifests through the darkness and approaches Andre who stands in confusion.

"Defendant?? The f--" Andre says under his breath as Bailiff Bourbon winds up and clotheslines the bones out of him.

Andre does a backflip around the bailiff's huge arm by the force of the blow and lands on his back. Bailiff Bourbon then returns to the bench next to the Honorable Judge Miss Fury.

She coughs to clear her throat before proceeding.

"With the charges of treason and conspiring against the B.o.B.. How do you plea?!" She points the gavel down at him. He looks at the bailiff, Bobby Bourbon, who stands with his arms folded glaring at him with a scowl.

"I, uh, I don't know what's going on… Bobby? Fury?? It's me… Andr---"

"HOW DO YOU PLEA?!?!"

"Not fucking guilty!!" He yells up to the judge as he manages to slide around to prop himself up to his knees.

"Likely story!! Bailiff!! Summon the jury!"

Bailiff Bourbon turns his back and disappears into the darkness only to reemerge a moment later with seven identical looking TK's following in single file behind him. They make two rows off to the side of Judge Miss Fury and Andre and all take a seat in one motion.

"Jury… Have you come to your decision?" The judge asks while still pointing the gavel down at Andre. The TK on the very end stands up.

"You're Goddamn right we have, your honor."

TK pulls out a wadded up piece of paper from his pocket.

"In the case of Andre Dixon versus B.o.B., we, the jury, find the defendant….


Guilty as fucking charged!"

Honorable Judge Fury laughs hysterically (evil laugh) and raises the gavel into the air once more.

"Andre Dixon, under the order of B.o.B. and the state of New Hampshire…."

"New Hampshire??"

"For crimes of treason, betrayal, not returning our calls, and conspiracy… you are guilty and sentenced to……….










DEATH!!!!"

Loud footsteps can be heard as every little thing seems to carry an echo in this place. From the darkness appears a large figure in a black hood.

"Executioner Ozzy!! If you would PLEASE do the honors!! OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!"

"Off with his fucking head!!"

A choir of TK's join in and chant as the large hooded man drags a large axe behind him which sounds like a million nails on a chalkboard. He swings it around and it is all of the seven feet that this man walks around with daily. He props it on his shoulder and makes booming steps towards the guilty party. Bailiff Bourbon produced a wooden barrel from thin air and rolled it over to Andre where he grabbed him and easily threw him down against it.

"Wait a minute!! Fuck! Fuck!! FUCK!!! Can we talk about this?!?!"

In an instant he hears the wind getting sliced by the axe and a loud roar from the man holding it before Andre's world head tumbles away.

Andre opens his eyes and he finds himself lying in a bed. Not his bed, though, but what looks like a bunk bed. A cold sweat pours from every inch of his body as Andre sits up and looks around in disbelief as he is in the bottom bunk of a prison cell. He gets up and walks back and forth before walking to the door and looking out at a way too familiar view.

“This can’t be real. This has to be a dream…” He says.

“Oh it’s real Andre, it’s REALLY real.” Doc says

Andre turns around and looks at the top bunk where the familiar voice just came from to see what looks to be his roommate laying in the top bunk.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“‘Tis me!” Doc sits up, hanging his feet off the side of the bed. “King Doc!”
[white]
Doc pushes himself off the bed and lands on his feet to stand proudly before me. He don’t look like the king, Andre remembers, but there he was. His hair was long and scraggly… Same with his beard…. He looked like shit and that he’s been here a long time.

“I know who you are.” Andre interrupts. “Are you in my head right now Doc? This isn’t real. It can’t be… If it is, then what are you doing here?”

“Why… The REVOLUTION, of course! Don’t you remember? You, sir, and your dearest friends in B.o.B. were the only ones to embrace and be loyal to the GLORIOUS KING of the XWF…. But, just like B.o.B., their choice to do so was NOT in the popular vote. Then they just locked me away and disposed of the key….” Doc sighs as he folds his hands behind his back and starts to walk away.

“Get me the fuck out of here.”

“Oh, indeed, you all witnessed it, yes? I was cooked like a goose and burnt to ashes… The thought and loyalty to King Doc alllll went with it…”

He just stands there now… With his back to me staring at the blank wall. Andre goes to take a step forward and finally notices the bright orange overalls he’s wearing and a sharp pain pierces through his stomach. It almost puts him to my knees, but he stays up… His vision goes blurry and in his sight, he sees Doc, King Doc, whatever, zipping around the room at like light speed… Back and forth for a few seconds until a gray, ashy figure with a bright red eye stares him in the face from a few inches away.

“I’ll do whatever you want Doc. Just get me out of here!”

There’s a loud BANG! then the cell door slides open. Andre looks over in disbelief. The room is swaying and it’s getting really, really hot.

“Let’s go then…”

Andre blinks a few times and his vision clears and the room and temperature goes back to normal.

Doc walks out as Andre hangs his head and follows in disbelief. This is the last place he ever wanted to be. The scene shifts to an empty cafeteria where we see Andre pull up a chair next to Doc and start looking at whatever it is they gave him to eat.

“Can you believe how bad this shit is?” Andre asks as he looks over and notices Doc is eating fine cuisine, including what looks like filet mignon and a tall glass of red wine. “What the fuck Doc?”

“Something wrong, sir?” Doc asks before he takes a sip from his glass. Andre looks down at the mush in front of him.

“Where the fuck did you get that from?”

“Here? Whatever do you mean?”

“Uh, I stood in line like everyone else and got this… shit.”

“Did you?”

Andre stops for a second and all of a sudden the cafeteria is filled with other inmates.

“What the fuck, man? What’s going on? Where did they all come from?”

As Doc takes another sip with a smirk on his face Andre gets a heavy couple taps on his shoulder.

A big, angry African American man walks over and looks at Doc before looking straight at Andre. “What’s good fam?” Andre asks.

“What the fuck you doin’ sitting over here with this white boy?” He asks as one of his friends steps behind him.

“Why don’t you just move it along, playa.”

“You a traitor to your own people, boy?”

“First of all. Never call me, boy. Second of all traitor is a big word for you isn’t it? You sure you know what that means?”

“You hear that?” The man asks his friend. “He told me not to call him boy.” The two men begin to laugh.

“I’m glad we could be your entertainment for the day but I think you boys need to get the fuck out of here. We were just discussing which one of us was going to fuck your mother first and I don’t think you want to be a part of that conversation.”

The man’s face goes from laughing to very angry real fast. Doc is watching, very entertained by what is taking place.

“I don’t think you realize who you’re talking to BOY!” He says to Andre.

“I don’t think YOU realize who the fuck you’re calling boy. This is your last chance. Take your little bitch there and get out of my face.”

“You son of a…” the friend reaches out to grab Andre. Andre grabs his arm and twists it around until the man falls to the ground in pain.

“I’m gonna fuck you up!”

“Like he did?” Andre asks pointing to the friend on the ground grabbing his arm.

The man looks down before trying to throw a sucker punch at Andre. Andre blocks it and hits him with a hard left followed by an uppercut that sends the man up in the air and through the table. The man gets up and quickly charges at Andre before they are both stopped by multiple guards who refrain the men and take them in separate directions.

After a few hours we pan to a smaller room that looks to be solitary confinement. We see Andre sitting against the wall with his hands over his head.

“I can’t believe this is really happening.” He says to himself.

A sweet scent passes by Andre and it stings his nostrils. He looks up and in disbelief sees Doc sitting in the corner smoking a cigar.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I’m supposed to be here alone.”

Doc just laughs and fiddles with his thumbs.

“See this isn’t real. If it was, you wouldn’t be here.”

Doc teeths the cigar and stands up. He smiles at Andre before flicking an ash on the floor.

“I wouldn’t? Why wouldn’t I? Is it an impossibility? Mister Andre if there is one thing you should know about working with ME it's that nothing should ever be considered impossible. Consider the possibility, sir, that all of those things you’ve heard about me are true. Consider the fact that it doesn’t matter WHO I’m assigned with, WHO I’m against, WHO is down the road, WHO stands in my fucking way. When I’m ON, sir, I’m FUCKING ON.

The pain in Andre’s stomach returns and his vision blurries. Doc stays in the corner, but something else flies around the room rapidly like before until it stops a few inches from his face again.

“This is no, dream, sir.”

Andre is frozen in place and can only blink over and over again as he shudders at the ghastly face in front of him.

“It’s a fucking NIGHTMARE”


The voice changes again and the thing in front of Andre opens its mouth wide and comes forward to swallow his head whole.

All of a sudden Andre’s eyes open and he’s back in his own bed.

“What the fuck?!”

Andre sits up as the scene fades.


I see people wanna come out here and talk shit about your boy and not give him any credit at all. We doin’ it like that, huh? Well let’s keep it real then, shall we?

Where do I even start? Do I start with that bitch boy, dick riding, wannabe Corey Smith? Or do we start with that overrated substitute teacher-looking motherfucker who wasn’t even in this thing a week ago? Or do I talk about North Korean War Criminal and how he just spewed the same shit the rest of them did?

Nah, let’s start with bitch boy. You don’t mind me calling you that, do you, Corey? I mean...if the shoe fits, am I right? Let me just address one thing since you seem to continuously harp on it every single time you mention my name. I am not my uncle and never will be. I never once said I was. I never once asked for shit based on what he did. In fact, I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with him. So why don’t you get some new material brah? That shit is about as played out as all the B.o.B. bullshit you and your team are talking.

It’s really the same old shit with all of you, isn’t it? Can’t get B.o.B. out of your head? Literally, all I’ve heard is all of you say the same shit over and over again. Just throwing that shit at the wall and hoping it sticks? You guys really taking this shit that seriously, huh? I’ve made it clear what my priorities are. I am Team Discontinuum for War Games. Period. If B.o.B. doesn’t like that? Well...they know where to find me. We’ve talked about it and unlike the rest of you fickle bitches we aren’t too worried about it.

Maybe your sensitive bitch ass needs to learn a thing or two about real friends. You claim to have them but you know what I see? A dick rider. You jump from dick to dick. First Thad and now Alias. You latch onto the top talent and ride that shit like Lil Nas X.

“I’m Corey Smith and everyone should be scared of Alias.” Word? “I’m Corey Smith and I’m going to face Alias once he’s the longest-reigning Uni Champion ever.” Do you realize how much of a bitch you look like bro? There’s showing respect and then there’s whatever the fuck you call that sucking up that you’re doing.

Then again you don’t care about looking like a bitch, right? Just look at the way you acted at Coreytopia. That whole sexy boy shit you tried to pull was so fuckin’ cringe I wanted to gouge my own eyes out when I tried to rewatch that shit.

Let’s face it, Corey. You’ve always just fallen in line. You’re Thad’s bitch and you didn’t even know it. We all do though. The way I see it is you never went after CCP because well...he would’ve shit on you. You didn’t participate in March Madness because well...Doc would’ve shit on you. You’ve never gone after Thad because well...he would shit on you too. Are we seeing a theme here? Then we have Alias who you won’t go after for months because well...he would shit on you and you know it. So you’re going to...wait him out? Wait till he’s got the longest reign and then hope that he’s done with this shit? Call me old school but that’s some bitch shit right there. By the way, that longest reign you’re talking about belongs to my uncle. I bet that drives you nuts, doesn’t it?

Now, as far as Alias goes I know how talented you are, my guy. I also know you needed to cash in that briefcase and get an EASY win over my boy CCP. Badass bro. You really are. Just look at how scared your own teammate is of you. I feel like you and me have been in the ring together in a past life. I dunno what it is about you but it just feels like in a past life we went head to head for the Universal Title. And maybe one day we will go head to head for real. But it won’t be for that title because I want no part of it. Not now, and probably not ever.

I’ll wrap this up with a last but definitely least with Centurion. Cent coming out and calling me not that talented is honestly hilarious. The guy who has been around longer than anyone and yet has never sniffed the Uni Title calling me not talented? You’re as average as they get my guy. You’ve been around longer than anyone and have fewer Uni Title reigns than Peter fn’ Gilmour. You’re a hack who picks and chooses his opponents to make sure things are stacked in your favor. There’s a reason you were a reserve for this shit because nobody wanted your bum ass. Kick rocks old man, nobody gives a fuck about your accomplishments. You can retire anytime you want? Well do us all a favor and do it then, ya bish…

As for the rest of these teams it really doesn't matter who else makes it to the Finals. This thing is ultimately going to come down to B.o.B. and Team Discontinuum and when that happens I'll make sure the RIGHT team wins...

I think I need to remind everyone exactly who the fuck I am...
]]>
As Andre lays there thinking about his past, present, and future his eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier until finally his eyes close and he dozes off. After what seems like a few hours his eyes open and he is standing alone in what appears to be a room with no walls. Even if there was, the darkness around him prevents from seeing further than a couple of feet until a loud bang echoes through the boundless area and a spotlight shines down overtop of him. He looks down to see himself in baggy, gray coveralls and his hands and ankles bound in shackles. He tests the strength of the chains by tugging them apart with no such luck to break them. A deep pain begins to pierce him from inside his gut and he buckles over in agony. When he looks back up a large wooden pedestal stands before him. He follows it with his eyes all of the way up where the Honorable Judge Miss Fury sits with a gavel in her grasp high above her head. In a downward motion, she swings the gavel down and it booms several times delivering another deafening echo.

Fury- "Order in this court!" She directs her shout down at Andre.

Fury- "Bailiff!! If our defendant cannot stand, provide him with a proper seat!" Her voice carries and repeats through the giant hall.

Bb- "Yes, your honor."

Bailiff Bourbon manifests through the darkness and approaches Andre who stands in confusion.

"Defendant?? The f--" Andre says under his breath as Bailiff Bourbon winds up and clotheslines the bones out of him.

Andre does a backflip around the bailiff's huge arm by the force of the blow and lands on his back. Bailiff Bourbon then returns to the bench next to the Honorable Judge Miss Fury.

She coughs to clear her throat before proceeding.

"With the charges of treason and conspiring against the B.o.B.. How do you plea?!" She points the gavel down at him. He looks at the bailiff, Bobby Bourbon, who stands with his arms folded glaring at him with a scowl.

"I, uh, I don't know what's going on… Bobby? Fury?? It's me… Andr---"

"HOW DO YOU PLEA?!?!"

"Not fucking guilty!!" He yells up to the judge as he manages to slide around to prop himself up to his knees.

"Likely story!! Bailiff!! Summon the jury!"

Bailiff Bourbon turns his back and disappears into the darkness only to reemerge a moment later with seven identical looking TK's following in single file behind him. They make two rows off to the side of Judge Miss Fury and Andre and all take a seat in one motion.

"Jury… Have you come to your decision?" The judge asks while still pointing the gavel down at Andre. The TK on the very end stands up.

"You're Goddamn right we have, your honor."

TK pulls out a wadded up piece of paper from his pocket.

"In the case of Andre Dixon versus B.o.B., we, the jury, find the defendant….


Guilty as fucking charged!"

Honorable Judge Fury laughs hysterically (evil laugh) and raises the gavel into the air once more.

"Andre Dixon, under the order of B.o.B. and the state of New Hampshire…."

"New Hampshire??"

"For crimes of treason, betrayal, not returning our calls, and conspiracy… you are guilty and sentenced to……….










DEATH!!!!"

Loud footsteps can be heard as every little thing seems to carry an echo in this place. From the darkness appears a large figure in a black hood.

"Executioner Ozzy!! If you would PLEASE do the honors!! OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!"

"Off with his fucking head!!"

A choir of TK's join in and chant as the large hooded man drags a large axe behind him which sounds like a million nails on a chalkboard. He swings it around and it is all of the seven feet that this man walks around with daily. He props it on his shoulder and makes booming steps towards the guilty party. Bailiff Bourbon produced a wooden barrel from thin air and rolled it over to Andre where he grabbed him and easily threw him down against it.

"Wait a minute!! Fuck! Fuck!! FUCK!!! Can we talk about this?!?!"

In an instant he hears the wind getting sliced by the axe and a loud roar from the man holding it before Andre's world head tumbles away.

Andre opens his eyes and he finds himself lying in a bed. Not his bed, though, but what looks like a bunk bed. A cold sweat pours from every inch of his body as Andre sits up and looks around in disbelief as he is in the bottom bunk of a prison cell. He gets up and walks back and forth before walking to the door and looking out at a way too familiar view.

“This can’t be real. This has to be a dream…” He says.

“Oh it’s real Andre, it’s REALLY real.” Doc says

Andre turns around and looks at the top bunk where the familiar voice just came from to see what looks to be his roommate laying in the top bunk.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“‘Tis me!” Doc sits up, hanging his feet off the side of the bed. “King Doc!”
[white]
Doc pushes himself off the bed and lands on his feet to stand proudly before me. He don’t look like the king, Andre remembers, but there he was. His hair was long and scraggly… Same with his beard…. He looked like shit and that he’s been here a long time.

“I know who you are.” Andre interrupts. “Are you in my head right now Doc? This isn’t real. It can’t be… If it is, then what are you doing here?”

“Why… The REVOLUTION, of course! Don’t you remember? You, sir, and your dearest friends in B.o.B. were the only ones to embrace and be loyal to the GLORIOUS KING of the XWF…. But, just like B.o.B., their choice to do so was NOT in the popular vote. Then they just locked me away and disposed of the key….” Doc sighs as he folds his hands behind his back and starts to walk away.

“Get me the fuck out of here.”

“Oh, indeed, you all witnessed it, yes? I was cooked like a goose and burnt to ashes… The thought and loyalty to King Doc alllll went with it…”

He just stands there now… With his back to me staring at the blank wall. Andre goes to take a step forward and finally notices the bright orange overalls he’s wearing and a sharp pain pierces through his stomach. It almost puts him to my knees, but he stays up… His vision goes blurry and in his sight, he sees Doc, King Doc, whatever, zipping around the room at like light speed… Back and forth for a few seconds until a gray, ashy figure with a bright red eye stares him in the face from a few inches away.

“I’ll do whatever you want Doc. Just get me out of here!”

There’s a loud BANG! then the cell door slides open. Andre looks over in disbelief. The room is swaying and it’s getting really, really hot.

“Let’s go then…”

Andre blinks a few times and his vision clears and the room and temperature goes back to normal.

Doc walks out as Andre hangs his head and follows in disbelief. This is the last place he ever wanted to be. The scene shifts to an empty cafeteria where we see Andre pull up a chair next to Doc and start looking at whatever it is they gave him to eat.

“Can you believe how bad this shit is?” Andre asks as he looks over and notices Doc is eating fine cuisine, including what looks like filet mignon and a tall glass of red wine. “What the fuck Doc?”

“Something wrong, sir?” Doc asks before he takes a sip from his glass. Andre looks down at the mush in front of him.

“Where the fuck did you get that from?”

“Here? Whatever do you mean?”

“Uh, I stood in line like everyone else and got this… shit.”

“Did you?”

Andre stops for a second and all of a sudden the cafeteria is filled with other inmates.

“What the fuck, man? What’s going on? Where did they all come from?”

As Doc takes another sip with a smirk on his face Andre gets a heavy couple taps on his shoulder.

A big, angry African American man walks over and looks at Doc before looking straight at Andre. “What’s good fam?” Andre asks.

“What the fuck you doin’ sitting over here with this white boy?” He asks as one of his friends steps behind him.

“Why don’t you just move it along, playa.”

“You a traitor to your own people, boy?”

“First of all. Never call me, boy. Second of all traitor is a big word for you isn’t it? You sure you know what that means?”

“You hear that?” The man asks his friend. “He told me not to call him boy.” The two men begin to laugh.

“I’m glad we could be your entertainment for the day but I think you boys need to get the fuck out of here. We were just discussing which one of us was going to fuck your mother first and I don’t think you want to be a part of that conversation.”

The man’s face goes from laughing to very angry real fast. Doc is watching, very entertained by what is taking place.

“I don’t think you realize who you’re talking to BOY!” He says to Andre.

“I don’t think YOU realize who the fuck you’re calling boy. This is your last chance. Take your little bitch there and get out of my face.”

“You son of a…” the friend reaches out to grab Andre. Andre grabs his arm and twists it around until the man falls to the ground in pain.

“I’m gonna fuck you up!”

“Like he did?” Andre asks pointing to the friend on the ground grabbing his arm.

The man looks down before trying to throw a sucker punch at Andre. Andre blocks it and hits him with a hard left followed by an uppercut that sends the man up in the air and through the table. The man gets up and quickly charges at Andre before they are both stopped by multiple guards who refrain the men and take them in separate directions.

After a few hours we pan to a smaller room that looks to be solitary confinement. We see Andre sitting against the wall with his hands over his head.

“I can’t believe this is really happening.” He says to himself.

A sweet scent passes by Andre and it stings his nostrils. He looks up and in disbelief sees Doc sitting in the corner smoking a cigar.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I’m supposed to be here alone.”

Doc just laughs and fiddles with his thumbs.

“See this isn’t real. If it was, you wouldn’t be here.”

Doc teeths the cigar and stands up. He smiles at Andre before flicking an ash on the floor.

“I wouldn’t? Why wouldn’t I? Is it an impossibility? Mister Andre if there is one thing you should know about working with ME it's that nothing should ever be considered impossible. Consider the possibility, sir, that all of those things you’ve heard about me are true. Consider the fact that it doesn’t matter WHO I’m assigned with, WHO I’m against, WHO is down the road, WHO stands in my fucking way. When I’m ON, sir, I’m FUCKING ON.

The pain in Andre’s stomach returns and his vision blurries. Doc stays in the corner, but something else flies around the room rapidly like before until it stops a few inches from his face again.

“This is no, dream, sir.”

Andre is frozen in place and can only blink over and over again as he shudders at the ghastly face in front of him.

“It’s a fucking NIGHTMARE”


The voice changes again and the thing in front of Andre opens its mouth wide and comes forward to swallow his head whole.

All of a sudden Andre’s eyes open and he’s back in his own bed.

“What the fuck?!”

Andre sits up as the scene fades.


I see people wanna come out here and talk shit about your boy and not give him any credit at all. We doin’ it like that, huh? Well let’s keep it real then, shall we?

Where do I even start? Do I start with that bitch boy, dick riding, wannabe Corey Smith? Or do we start with that overrated substitute teacher-looking motherfucker who wasn’t even in this thing a week ago? Or do I talk about North Korean War Criminal and how he just spewed the same shit the rest of them did?

Nah, let’s start with bitch boy. You don’t mind me calling you that, do you, Corey? I mean...if the shoe fits, am I right? Let me just address one thing since you seem to continuously harp on it every single time you mention my name. I am not my uncle and never will be. I never once said I was. I never once asked for shit based on what he did. In fact, I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with him. So why don’t you get some new material brah? That shit is about as played out as all the B.o.B. bullshit you and your team are talking.

It’s really the same old shit with all of you, isn’t it? Can’t get B.o.B. out of your head? Literally, all I’ve heard is all of you say the same shit over and over again. Just throwing that shit at the wall and hoping it sticks? You guys really taking this shit that seriously, huh? I’ve made it clear what my priorities are. I am Team Discontinuum for War Games. Period. If B.o.B. doesn’t like that? Well...they know where to find me. We’ve talked about it and unlike the rest of you fickle bitches we aren’t too worried about it.

Maybe your sensitive bitch ass needs to learn a thing or two about real friends. You claim to have them but you know what I see? A dick rider. You jump from dick to dick. First Thad and now Alias. You latch onto the top talent and ride that shit like Lil Nas X.

“I’m Corey Smith and everyone should be scared of Alias.” Word? “I’m Corey Smith and I’m going to face Alias once he’s the longest-reigning Uni Champion ever.” Do you realize how much of a bitch you look like bro? There’s showing respect and then there’s whatever the fuck you call that sucking up that you’re doing.

Then again you don’t care about looking like a bitch, right? Just look at the way you acted at Coreytopia. That whole sexy boy shit you tried to pull was so fuckin’ cringe I wanted to gouge my own eyes out when I tried to rewatch that shit.

Let’s face it, Corey. You’ve always just fallen in line. You’re Thad’s bitch and you didn’t even know it. We all do though. The way I see it is you never went after CCP because well...he would’ve shit on you. You didn’t participate in March Madness because well...Doc would’ve shit on you. You’ve never gone after Thad because well...he would shit on you too. Are we seeing a theme here? Then we have Alias who you won’t go after for months because well...he would shit on you and you know it. So you’re going to...wait him out? Wait till he’s got the longest reign and then hope that he’s done with this shit? Call me old school but that’s some bitch shit right there. By the way, that longest reign you’re talking about belongs to my uncle. I bet that drives you nuts, doesn’t it?

Now, as far as Alias goes I know how talented you are, my guy. I also know you needed to cash in that briefcase and get an EASY win over my boy CCP. Badass bro. You really are. Just look at how scared your own teammate is of you. I feel like you and me have been in the ring together in a past life. I dunno what it is about you but it just feels like in a past life we went head to head for the Universal Title. And maybe one day we will go head to head for real. But it won’t be for that title because I want no part of it. Not now, and probably not ever.

I’ll wrap this up with a last but definitely least with Centurion. Cent coming out and calling me not that talented is honestly hilarious. The guy who has been around longer than anyone and yet has never sniffed the Uni Title calling me not talented? You’re as average as they get my guy. You’ve been around longer than anyone and have fewer Uni Title reigns than Peter fn’ Gilmour. You’re a hack who picks and chooses his opponents to make sure things are stacked in your favor. There’s a reason you were a reserve for this shit because nobody wanted your bum ass. Kick rocks old man, nobody gives a fuck about your accomplishments. You can retire anytime you want? Well do us all a favor and do it then, ya bish…

As for the rest of these teams it really doesn't matter who else makes it to the Finals. This thing is ultimately going to come down to B.o.B. and Team Discontinuum and when that happens I'll make sure the RIGHT team wins...

I think I need to remind everyone exactly who the fuck I am...
]]> <![CDATA[Synchronicity]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41529 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 21:34:41 -0700 Corey Smith]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41529
∞A: Flickering Light

A warm fire licks at the velvety blackness of the night. A number of figures are assembled around it in a semicircle. Of course, we have our team: Corey Smith, North Korean War Criminal, Centurion, and Alias. Centurion appears to be chatting in Korean with a young couple, their daughter asleep next to them in a stroller. NK is talking animatedly to the owner of the grounds, George, who seems to look wistfully in the distance every few moments as though wishing to escape. Corey is sitting next to an older man wearing fishing gear and a wide brimmed hat with a fishing lure pulled through the brim. And finally, Alias sits alone, his eyes studying the fire with an intensity not seen since…

So, who else wants to hear some inspiring words of wisdom from dear leader? NK waves around a tract with Kim Jong Un on the cover that has been heavily shopped to make him appear muscular with a significant bulge in his pants.

No...no, we’re good! Bob and Jeanie came over after the war. They’re decent regular folk who would prefer their minds be unspoiled. Centurion shoots a look at the couple, who nod their heads in agreement.

Although I’m sure he’s very...nice. Jeanie offers pleasantly, without a hint of an accent.

The fisherman Corey was speaking to roars to his feet. And I didn’t lose my pappy in Vietnam just so we could sing the praises of some fat little….

HEEEY! Who wants to make S’mores?! Corey with the save.

Oh, I’d like one!

Me too! This from Bob, who is gamely avoiding looking at NK.

Oh hell, why not?

Corey’s fisherman friends waves a hand. Thank you young man, but it’s a bit past my bedtime, so I’ll be wishing you all goodnight.

Goodnight, comrade!

Not you. The fisherman scowls before walking off.

Corey starts to disperse some sticks and piles of graham crackers, Hershey bars, and bags of marshmallows. When he finally gets to Alias, he stops. Hey man, you want some?

Alias remains ensnared by the fire and doesn’t respond.

Uh, ground control to Major Tom? Corey nudges Alias’ foot with his own. Alias gives a little start and looks up at Corey, who waggles a bag of marshmallows.

Oh, sorry. I think I’m good.

Suit yourself. Corey rounds the rest of the group, handing off some S’more supplies to George.

The assembly spends about another half hour enjoying each other’s company. And as Corey looks around, seeing this eclectic group he has assembled doing something as simple as sharing a snack by a roaring campfire with normal people, a warm glow settles in his stomach that has nothing to do with the fire. This is good. He thinks.

Ceramic shatters. Blood. The End.

The smile that had been building falters. His grip on the bag or marshmallows slackens. And Corey looks up just in time to see Alias staring right at him.

Centurion rises and stretches. I’m off to bed too. Insert old people jokes here. ‘Night.

Yeah, goodnight man. He waves at Centurion as he departs. And then, he notices that the couple Centurion was talking to was already gone. When did they leave? How did I miss that?

Corey! George calls out. You alright, son? You been standing there in a daze.

I honestly don't know. He whispers it largely to himself.

Huh?

Corey looks up and now Alias is gone too.

Did you see where he went? He nods to NK.

Hmmmm? Oh? Comrade Alias? Haven't the foggiest.


∞B: Through the Hand of Another - Corey

Corey sighs. Of course this would happen. Everything had been going too smoothly. All they needed was just one night! He squashes the thought. It's not a disaster. Not yet. First of all, Alias probably just went to get firewood or something. Secondly, out of everyone that Corey knew, that crazy bastard was probably the most capable of taking care of himself if left alone in the woods at night.

Still, there was a sense of foreboding that tickled the back of Corey’s consciousness. Something hadn't been sitting right between the two of them this whole trip. I'm going to go check on him.

Should I assist you?

No. Although this would mean leaving NK alone with a sleeping Centurion, at least the War Criminal hadn't been particularly stabby. What's the worst that could happen?

Corey set out along a beaten path that wound itself around the entire park. Before long, he could no longer hear the crackles of burning wood, nor see their embers dance. All he had to guide him was the moonlight from above and distant floodlights on the perimeter. And an overwhelming feeling of dread.

Alias! Are you out here, buddy? He listens for a response, but none comes. It's deathly quiet. They're not even in the park alone, but these walls of trees really want to convince him otherwise.

SNAP!

A twig breaks.

Corey spins to face it. Is that you?

It's me, all right.

Corey peers into the dark. Deep in the brush, he swears he can see movement. Alias? Wait… no…




















What the fuck are you doing here, Doc? Trying to get one up on us before War Games?

Corey blinks and the 'good' doctor vanishes into the night. He hears scampering through the bush. Shit…

If Doc's here, then everyone else might be in trouble. He remembers what he told Alias. Put Doc down, and it’s all hunky-dory.

So he follows.

The bush gets thick and wild as he clambers through it, but with the skills Lux left imprinted in his brain, he tracks Doc through the broken branches and still shaking bushes. Bursting out of the treeline, his own campfire flickers behind a tent, casting shadows on...

No!

Corey lunges as a blood-curdling scream rips throughout the campsite.

Doc slices the throat of the Korean man Centurion was talking to earlier. His wife goes to scream again but Doc’s hand clenches her mouth shut.

And he drives his blade through the back of her neck.

The tent rustles behind Doc and as he begins to dash off, Centurion appears.

What the… Wide-eyed he surveys the scene as Corey drops to his knees next to the bodies, blood pooling around him.

It was… it was Doc! He manages through choked breaths.

Centurion's heart races and he makes a concerted effort to draw air deep into his lungs to calm himself. No, I saw him run off. That wasn’t Doc. It was someone in a mask.

Corey struggles to focus. They had a kid, man!

We know who did this. These two met in the South Korean military. Corey wipes his face and looks up to the veteran.

Where is the North Korean War Criminal?


∞C: Through the Hand of Another - NKWC

We settle on North Korean War Criminal patrolling the woodlands. He scans the area, and then, satisfied, pulls out a notebook and leaves a checkmark behind on one of the pages. Perimeter check number two, complete! He looks ahead to his next waypoint. Which is naturally designated by a little North Korean flag flapping in the breeze. But then, he’s forced to stop when he hears a bustle nearby. Whipping around, his body tenses as he goes into full alert.

Perimeter breach! He forward-rolls into a fighting stance. I must warn you I know 15 different variations of North Korean martial arts and created 14 of them!

Then, as though berthed from the shadow, a figure peels itself away from the inky darkness and steps into the light of the moon. NK gasps.




















Thaddeus Duke! So the time has finally come, eh? Revealing your true colors! I’ve had you pegged for a CIA spook the whole time! I bet you alphabet people have a file on me and my exploits that’s as long as the Bible. He seems pretty proud of this. Well, it’s all true! Except for that one thing in Reno in 1983. I thought “Bong Hits for Jesus” was some kind of code to get myself into the American socialist underground. Honest mistake.

The effigy of Thad cocks his head, reaches behind himself, and pulls out a wicked blade that’s already smeared with blood.

I am ready you witless pawn of the ruling class!

The knife wielding man lunges suddenly, slashing with a practiced ease. NK is of course, weaponless, and doing his best to parry the blows. But the blade is getting perilously close to breaking NK’s defenses. How long can he keep it up?

HEY!

Another voice barks out. The assailant looks up to see Alias charging into the fray! He disengages and runs away, disappearing into the trees once more.

Are you alright?

Fit as a fiddle, Comrade Alias! Did you see who that was?!

Yeah... Alias’s features set into a grim countenance.

Good! The American government has wanted me dead for…

No. It was Thad. His words drip bitterness. I guess Louis finally broke him.

Or someone made to look like him. The XWF has long been hostile…

Whatever. We need to get back to camp. Form up again. Safety in numbers.

I agree.

With that, they both set off into the woods, going in the direction they last spotted the knife wielding attacker. Senses keen to their surroundings, the duo methodically pick their way through the brambles. North Korean War Criminal, out in front, speaks softly as the campfire is illuminated in the distance. I certainly hope no violence has befallen our other comrades. As self appointed security team leader, I would never forgive myself! I…

NK starts to become aware he’s not hearing a reply. Nor is he hearing the sounds of Alias moving through the underbrush behind him. He looks behind him. Alias is gone.


∞D: Through the Hand of Another - Centurion

Why didn’t I stay on vacation? Tokyo. Olympic athletes. Downtime with Ruby.

Nope. Company Man Centy wanted to play backup quarterback when a… “papal emergency” popped up.

Hell, I could’ve worked WarGames and had my publicist send a note.

“Camping’s not my scene. Staying at the five-star lakeside resort. Feel free to Call before you Don’t stop by! Your friend associate coworker, Centurion (Dictated, Not Read.)”

Now, I’m in the woods with a teenager, a fascist and a murderer. The Universal Champion? M.I.A. Dead? No time to wonder, but how does belt inheritance work…?

NK, start over... You were attacked. Alias saved you.

It was a collaborative defense, Corey Smith.

...Fine. Where’d you leave Alias?

The dictator’s lapdog shrugs.

We shared intelligence to surmise our attacker’s identity… Then, Comrade Alias was gone. From my position, I spotted the campfire. Thus, I returned.

Shared intelligence, huh? What’d you two eggheads put together?

NKWC wrinkles his nose. Offended. That’s rich.

Comrade Centurion, we hypothesized the US government… Or XWF management… desires my end. Each have a history of… sanctioned murder. How interesting that you, an XWF Legend and company ambassador, joined our collective…

This paranoid asshole’s pinning murder on me? No chance.

Before you spin this yarn, Kim Jong Un-fit, Corey and I have been back here dealing with another crime. Now, by my accounts, YOU split to ‘patrol the premises’. ALIAS saves YOU. Then, YOU return with NO Alias? Your problems now are ‘opportunity to commit murder’… and ‘lack of alibi’.

The tyrant-lover gets shifty, a cockroach skittering from a big hand swinging down on him.

HANG ON! This is what THEY want…

Corey wants the captain’s wheel. Naive wide-eyed talk... we’re a team... we gotta stick together. I tune out. Right now, this is about survival and I know the murderer is right he-....

In my periphery, in the trees, I spot a figure… wearing an Andre Dixon mask.






I’m already running.

If our assailant IS from XWF’s past, he didn’t do ALL his research. He tries to outrun me.

Big mistake.

He thinks he’ll lose me in foliage. I narrow the gap enough to close in… Within a half-click, I’m on top of him.

I sink claws into his jaw to wrench him to the ground…

Shit. His mask peels off like it’s attached by tissue and I lose footing on uneven terrain. A split-second later, he cuts right and skips into darkness. I’ll catch him if…

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!

Double shit. I’m already sprinting again.

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!

Sounds like Corey. Did that despot plan this…?

I cut through bushes, shaving seconds. Nearing the screeching, I see flashlights shimmering, close to basecamp. Corey’s still screaming for grown-ups.

HEEEEEEE-

My hand slaps over his mouth. I lean into his ear. Stay calm. If they know our position, that’s another advantage they have…

War Criminal kneels, hands wrapped in plastic, examining a corpse.

The fisherman.

Wearing Alias’ red clown wig.

Flannel shirt drenched in blood and bile. Long gash down his chest… gutted like a fish. An almost ironic end.

Based on internal temperature, he died… 54 minutes ago. NKWC retrieves a small thermometer from the corpse’s organs, returning it to his jacket pocket.

Great work, CSI Pyongyang. Follow-up question: This your handiwork?

The Shitstain sneers.

I’ve remained with Corey Smith. We both left camp in your direction as backup. We discovered this body together.

Corey calms down enough to nod. I remove my hand and Smith doubles over sick.

So, you’ve both got an alibi…

He might not…

The Totalitarian Dickhead raises his flashlight.

Bathed in dim light...

Alias. Knees tucked into his chest...

Bloodsoaked.

Muttering.

LeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHand.

This... is complicated…


∞E: Through the Hand of Another - Alias

I’m vaguely aware of being dragged to the campsite with NK to my right and Corey to my left. But I know there’s a monster out there. A real one.

Big scary monsters,
the ones that get you at night,
they hide in cupboards and behind doors,
just to give you a fright!


Out the cupboard goes shatter, shatter. The End.

Corey eclipses my sight of the fire. He’s being born of it now. You have to end before you can begin, though. I hope he remembers.

What happened to you out there?

My eyes narrow. I pull it from the mists. I found the fisherman. He was dead. I...tried to save him.

I had no fire.

There is a murderer on the loose. He was wearing a mask.

There was a Thad Duke mask beside the body. I wanted it to be him. Really him. The real monster.

But have you ever wondered
what its like to be a monster
hiding in the dark
and not coming into the light?


Centurion’s voice follows. Alright, so someone with a working knowledge of our opponents is screwing with us. Or... He looks around cryptically.

It’s not one of us! But it is someone who wants to BREAK us!

Well there’s only so many options as to who it could be.

Right! So it’s someone who knows us, someone who hates us. Or both. Someone who knew where we would be!

Someone’s missing. Or someone who was already here. George is the only one left, that we know of.

I don’t know, isn’t that a tad Scooby Doo? It’s always the owner. Centurion tries to inject some levity. It doesn’t work.

I mean, yeah. But why….? Corey looks pensive, like he doesn’t even want to consider the possibility. George seemed like a nice man.

Yeah, why?!

And into the light.









It’s a man wearing a Chris Chaos mask. How fitting to save that for the end.

The interloper slides off the mask.

Into the….

BURN HIM. EAT HIM.

It’s me….MORBID ANGEL! Haha! He throws his arms out.

You son of a bitch!

Oh come now! This was my plan all along! UNIFICATION! TRUST! Only thing I didn’t plan on was you guys replacing me so fast. That hurt! Morbid puts a hand to his heart.

So, it’s treason, then?!

Corey’s eyes are tearing up. You killed people you fucking asshole!

I SENT THEM TO THE LORD! Morbid responds defensively. Just...you know...a little earlier.

I’m already moving. Circling around to his side while he’s distracted by the banter. But Corey looks about ready to strike too.

Ah, ah, ah! Morbid holds up a hand. He notices me and pulls something from within his jacket. It looks like….

I have wired this whole camp to explode!

He holds what looks like a detonator in front of him.

Bullshit!

We can’t take that chance. I meet Corey’s eyes.

Shatter?

No. Determination. All of them. And then it happens. Complete spontaneous synchronicity. It’s poetry confined to human form and function. The vaunted teamwork that Corey had been looking for. It arrives suddenly, forcefully. Riding a tide of rage.

Centurion eyes the marshmallow stick, the tip still slick with goop.

NK’s foot finds a rock and he works his toe under it.

And Corey and I? Our eyes lock. And we tell The End “not today”.

NK kicks the rock up to his hand and throws it with precision, lumping Morbid in the forehead. As he stumbles back, Corey, Centurion and I advance. Centurion stabs Morbid in the eye with the marshmallow paste. Corey goes for the wrist on his left hand. And I go for the thumb, wrenching it back until I hear a snap. Morbid drops the device and I jump on it. Corey and Centurion simultaneously punch Morbid in the face, knocking him out. NK races in to check on me. Slowly, I open my hand to reveal the detonator.

Is it real?

NK’s eyes widen. Very!

He’s got the whooooole world, in his hands….!

I pass it to Corey immediately and my teammates breathe a sigh of relief.

An explosion.

Not of flames and fatality, but of unity.

Finality.

It is done.









∞F: That F is a Failing Grade for You All

You know what I love? LISTS! Call it the Assburgers in me, but I can’t get enough of ‘em! So, to that end, I have developed a list of the TOP 5 WAR GAMES PARTICIPANTS WHO ARE IN OVER THEIR HEADS! Starting from least useless (but still pretty useless) to most useless, they are:

5)Marf
4) Reggie Estrada
3) Money Oswald
2) Andre Dixon
1) Geri Vayden

If one of these is yours, congratulations...it’s a SCRUB! But my team? My team don’t want no scrubs. Because a “scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me….” Corey sings the lyric with aplomb. Heh. Sorry. But it’s true. Pick a scrub on my team. I dare you. Even the most iffy link on the chain….and Cent I bet you thought I was gonna say you! But it’s actually me. And even I just went ham on the most stacked Lethal Lottery line up since ever. But those names up there?

Wait, you see the names too? Alias pipes in. Do you want to talk about how NK’s colours were different when we were hiking?

Nope! Just switch back to the LIST! No one can deny it. Those names stick out like a sore thumb. Inconsistent. Overhyped. Somehow a part of Ghost Tank (or whatever). Records that are lackluster to say the least. I think you get the picture. You can pick them out instinctively. In fact, I bet if we had a secret ballot amongst every other War Games participant to create this list, it’d look pretty damn similar to mine. Except some might sub in Chaos. I don’t blame them.

These are your weak links right here. Marf, the lesser half of a duo that includes a woman who couldn’t buy a win for her first three months here. And who only went over my boy Alias in circumstances that were, how you say….a shit ton of fuck!

Reggie Estrada, who is the cornerstone of a team that cuts promos like they learned grammar and syntax from a Speak and Spell with dead batteries.

Money Oswald, who despite probably being a minor deity only just recently made B.O.B. elite in a sight that was as sad as Carrie being made prom queen. “They’re all gonna laugh at you!” Actually, we already are.

Good thing he has that championship, right? You know, the one he defends only when he wants to, and acts like that makes it special when in reality it’s because HE FUCKING MADE IT UP AND NOBODY CARES ABOUT HIM ENOUGH TO CHALLENGE IT!! That’s a common theme with BOB isn’t it? Especially with Andre Dixon…

Whose sheer volume of suck I have already covered in depth, but if you need a recap just Google “Andre Dixon” and “win” and enjoy your quarter page of results about his uncle’s past success. And finally….Geri Vayden. Is that self explanatory enough? The best thing I can say for her is that her weed laden short attention span translated to her not crashing and burning with the Baphomet.

Look, everyone on that list SUCKS, alright? But I guess somebody had to scoop those turds. I mean, somebody other than me. If you’re saying that ANY of those five reach the level of any member of my team, you’re making about as much sense as the thickheads who keep insisting I’m an egomaniac. Because egomaniacs regularly open their homes to the downtrodden and desperate, right? Motherfuckers taking a page from the Jim Caedus Tome of…Corey crosses his eyes and speaks in a derpy tone….”Corey’s A Psychopath”.

That’s pretty rich coming from the guy who turns his back on the friend he’s supposedly trying to make up with, just because said friend got his fucking ass beat. Don’t worry, I got your back, Cor’!

Uh… thanks?

You’re wel-CUM. And there you go, folks! The extent of Jim Caedus’s ingenuity. Congrats on the new, magic cunny, buddy! Maybe that bwitch can cast a spell that teaches you how to fucking speak with commas. Breathe, for fuck’s sake! I’m worried you’re about to get as choked up as Marf when he’s trying to break out of the fucking friend zone. Or worse, as choked up as Charlie Nickles when he realises that instead of ducking him as he claims, I actually agreed to a match with him back in March, only for him to decide he’s got a better chance teaming with fucking Ned Kaye and R.L. Edgar. Probably a wise choice actually. I don’t know if this is true, but it feels like that might be the last time Charlie - or whatever version he was - got a win. This cunt’s like a Dragon Ball Z villain in reverse - each new form is shitter than the last. If that dumb fuck wasn’t a captain himself, I’d say you might need to bump a name on your list, Corey!

And If captains are in the running for that list too, don’t forget about ol’ Fury! Selectively blocking out the last six months of Andy’s gal pal spanking her harder than Chris Page if he was juicing like Morby. She sure showed me! Talking about beating Ruby before I even poofed my way back here! Since then, I’ve won the Universal Championship. What the fuck has she done? And no, creating this OG-BOB team doesn’t count. Someone call Michael Graves because joke-BOB is back! As if it ever left.

Well said, Comrade Alias. To combine your points with Corey Smith’s… Look at the humiliating strategy on display from the captains that oppose us.

They have decidedly refused to acknowledge how utterly their weak links are dragging their teams down.

American-Style “Shout-Out” to Thaddeus Duke, swimming with not one but TWO anchors tied around his throat.

These captains? Too blind to see why these albatrosses will drag their teams down, suffocating under the weight of their own uselessness. They haven’t seen us in action. We aren’t four singles competitors wrestling in self-interest like free-market capitalists. We are a collective, each action chosen to derive maximum benefit for the whole.

And we will wear down you groups of individuals. And we will whittle you down until your weakest, most-vulnerable component breaks down…

Then we move onto the next. And the next. Until our opposition is ground to dust.

Your weakest link is our greatest strength. We will analyze, take advantage, overwhelm and decimate you, piece-by-piece.

You’re all rockin’ handicaps. And it’s going to catch up with you. He pauses. Oh, and a special shout out to Shawn Warstein, who finally made it to the rank of “Angel”. Which makes sense because like an angel, Shawn also sports smooth scrotumless nethers. Cry about it on Twitter ya nancy.

Of course. Of fucking course Shawn Warstein is in this match.

The man just can't stay away. Not truly. All the talk of "oh, I'm done, I've moved on", and yet, every major event the XWF has, Warstein pops back up like a bad case of herpes...which is fitting, given who he's replacing.

I know, I know. Another day, another comment slut shaming Atara. Which honestly isn't fair, because she has to hear that shit all the time, and yet Dick Powers is never once called out for the fact that he's given crabs to everyone in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Metro region.

I’ve received intel from Central Command that Dick Powers arrived in Bethel Woods early. The city’s free clinics are already exceeding capacity. Stop taxing already-overwhelmed American hospitals with your diseased rotting genitals, Dick Powers!

It's sexism, I tell you! Atara at least won titles while hoeing it up. Dick wins one match every three months and goes on a Clam Slam World Tour afterwards.

But hey, at least Dick is going to show up, so good for him. Good also on Geri Vayden, who decided to give up her babysitting job to come wrestle for the weekend. Of course, we know how this ends - disappointing, again. You want to talk about folks who had their opportunities - Geri's entire XWF career is just a list of great opportunities that she squandered. It's fine, though. She'll go back to Revolution1, talk about how she doesn't need us, then come back in two months like nothing happened.

Revolution1 sounds like a Netflix Original that’ll get cancelled halfway through the first season.

You know, you hate to see brothers fighting. Watching Robert Main and Jim Caedus go at it is going to be sad...well, sad and hilarious. The only thing bigger than APEX is the egos of each member of that faction.

And Robert Main’s fall from grace.

I hope Caedus eliminates Main, personally. Maybe then people will stop seeing Caedus as some also ran that became a big deal because he was associated with one of the best wrestlers of his era.

What, no one's saying that? Because I am.

Though Main will have a scapegoat if he does get eliminated, as I doubt Demos is going to put any energy into "team unity". That dude can't even unify his own personality. It's quite possible that Demos doesn't even know who his partners are. I wouldn't be surprised to see him suplex Dolly at some point in the match.

It's a good thing Michael Graves won't be around...though Marf does look eerily like a pedophile, so maybe she's not that safe.

Dolly! Buddy system! Okay?

Not cool, guys!

I look around and I see a bunch of teams who are guaranteeing victory, and yet none of them have the pedigree we do. Look at us! Universal Champion! Leap Of Faith winner! Anarchy Champion! A dude that has a pile of skeletons in his basement! We're an unbeatable team.

We know it.

You know it.

Everyone knows it.

Get the fuck over it.

Pardon the throwback but it’s not like having no scrotum is a bad thing! I’m not gonna go in on Dolly or Betsy. Unlike Thad Duke, I won’t use War as an excuse to flip the bird to those I trust. I just still find it funny that Chris Chaos got pissy at me for having friends, right after he called me a loner! Makes as much sense as Thad even fucking choosing him to begin with. But now? After what we’ve been through, my friend group has all of a sudden gotten bigger. Even if it’s just for one night...

I trust Centurion.

I trust the North Korean War Criminal.

And for all of you - mostly BOB who seem to spend every waking moment trying to point out the fucking obvious - well I’ve got the ultimate sign of trust that I need from Corey Smith. I’m not just the Universal Champion…

Alias raises the 24/7 Briefcase in the air. Corey gestures at it theatrically and mouths “uh oh” as countless minutes of “Corey’s gonna betray Alias” arguments get sucked down the shitter.

Until War Games is over, I’m Mr. 24/725/8 again. And since Corey has been so kind as to give me this gift, I felt it would only be right to give you all a gift too! We all heard how Louis bitched and moaned after doing his best Chris Chaos impression and shitting the bed at Mayday, blaming it all on Corey. Well between Cor’ and I, it seems we’ve got the magic answer for how any of you can put ol’ Lou down. Corey, show them.

Corey walks up to Centurion. And pushes him.





What the hell?

Who else was he going to push, Andy? The eight-foot-tall plus possibly-immortal guy? That’s all it takes though, kids! To unravel the big bad. One push. And he falls a-fucking-part.

Now you know.

Now you can do what we can do.

But there is one thing you can’t do.

One thing that we will.

See, I’m not just going to Eat The World, friends.

We all are.]]>
∞A: Flickering Light

A warm fire licks at the velvety blackness of the night. A number of figures are assembled around it in a semicircle. Of course, we have our team: Corey Smith, North Korean War Criminal, Centurion, and Alias. Centurion appears to be chatting in Korean with a young couple, their daughter asleep next to them in a stroller. NK is talking animatedly to the owner of the grounds, George, who seems to look wistfully in the distance every few moments as though wishing to escape. Corey is sitting next to an older man wearing fishing gear and a wide brimmed hat with a fishing lure pulled through the brim. And finally, Alias sits alone, his eyes studying the fire with an intensity not seen since…

So, who else wants to hear some inspiring words of wisdom from dear leader? NK waves around a tract with Kim Jong Un on the cover that has been heavily shopped to make him appear muscular with a significant bulge in his pants.

No...no, we’re good! Bob and Jeanie came over after the war. They’re decent regular folk who would prefer their minds be unspoiled. Centurion shoots a look at the couple, who nod their heads in agreement.

Although I’m sure he’s very...nice. Jeanie offers pleasantly, without a hint of an accent.

The fisherman Corey was speaking to roars to his feet. And I didn’t lose my pappy in Vietnam just so we could sing the praises of some fat little….

HEEEY! Who wants to make S’mores?! Corey with the save.

Oh, I’d like one!

Me too! This from Bob, who is gamely avoiding looking at NK.

Oh hell, why not?

Corey’s fisherman friends waves a hand. Thank you young man, but it’s a bit past my bedtime, so I’ll be wishing you all goodnight.

Goodnight, comrade!

Not you. The fisherman scowls before walking off.

Corey starts to disperse some sticks and piles of graham crackers, Hershey bars, and bags of marshmallows. When he finally gets to Alias, he stops. Hey man, you want some?

Alias remains ensnared by the fire and doesn’t respond.

Uh, ground control to Major Tom? Corey nudges Alias’ foot with his own. Alias gives a little start and looks up at Corey, who waggles a bag of marshmallows.

Oh, sorry. I think I’m good.

Suit yourself. Corey rounds the rest of the group, handing off some S’more supplies to George.

The assembly spends about another half hour enjoying each other’s company. And as Corey looks around, seeing this eclectic group he has assembled doing something as simple as sharing a snack by a roaring campfire with normal people, a warm glow settles in his stomach that has nothing to do with the fire. This is good. He thinks.

Ceramic shatters. Blood. The End.

The smile that had been building falters. His grip on the bag or marshmallows slackens. And Corey looks up just in time to see Alias staring right at him.

Centurion rises and stretches. I’m off to bed too. Insert old people jokes here. ‘Night.

Yeah, goodnight man. He waves at Centurion as he departs. And then, he notices that the couple Centurion was talking to was already gone. When did they leave? How did I miss that?

Corey! George calls out. You alright, son? You been standing there in a daze.

I honestly don't know. He whispers it largely to himself.

Huh?

Corey looks up and now Alias is gone too.

Did you see where he went? He nods to NK.

Hmmmm? Oh? Comrade Alias? Haven't the foggiest.


∞B: Through the Hand of Another - Corey

Corey sighs. Of course this would happen. Everything had been going too smoothly. All they needed was just one night! He squashes the thought. It's not a disaster. Not yet. First of all, Alias probably just went to get firewood or something. Secondly, out of everyone that Corey knew, that crazy bastard was probably the most capable of taking care of himself if left alone in the woods at night.

Still, there was a sense of foreboding that tickled the back of Corey’s consciousness. Something hadn't been sitting right between the two of them this whole trip. I'm going to go check on him.

Should I assist you?

No. Although this would mean leaving NK alone with a sleeping Centurion, at least the War Criminal hadn't been particularly stabby. What's the worst that could happen?

Corey set out along a beaten path that wound itself around the entire park. Before long, he could no longer hear the crackles of burning wood, nor see their embers dance. All he had to guide him was the moonlight from above and distant floodlights on the perimeter. And an overwhelming feeling of dread.

Alias! Are you out here, buddy? He listens for a response, but none comes. It's deathly quiet. They're not even in the park alone, but these walls of trees really want to convince him otherwise.

SNAP!

A twig breaks.

Corey spins to face it. Is that you?

It's me, all right.

Corey peers into the dark. Deep in the brush, he swears he can see movement. Alias? Wait… no…




















What the fuck are you doing here, Doc? Trying to get one up on us before War Games?

Corey blinks and the 'good' doctor vanishes into the night. He hears scampering through the bush. Shit…

If Doc's here, then everyone else might be in trouble. He remembers what he told Alias. Put Doc down, and it’s all hunky-dory.

So he follows.

The bush gets thick and wild as he clambers through it, but with the skills Lux left imprinted in his brain, he tracks Doc through the broken branches and still shaking bushes. Bursting out of the treeline, his own campfire flickers behind a tent, casting shadows on...

No!

Corey lunges as a blood-curdling scream rips throughout the campsite.

Doc slices the throat of the Korean man Centurion was talking to earlier. His wife goes to scream again but Doc’s hand clenches her mouth shut.

And he drives his blade through the back of her neck.

The tent rustles behind Doc and as he begins to dash off, Centurion appears.

What the… Wide-eyed he surveys the scene as Corey drops to his knees next to the bodies, blood pooling around him.

It was… it was Doc! He manages through choked breaths.

Centurion's heart races and he makes a concerted effort to draw air deep into his lungs to calm himself. No, I saw him run off. That wasn’t Doc. It was someone in a mask.

Corey struggles to focus. They had a kid, man!

We know who did this. These two met in the South Korean military. Corey wipes his face and looks up to the veteran.

Where is the North Korean War Criminal?


∞C: Through the Hand of Another - NKWC

We settle on North Korean War Criminal patrolling the woodlands. He scans the area, and then, satisfied, pulls out a notebook and leaves a checkmark behind on one of the pages. Perimeter check number two, complete! He looks ahead to his next waypoint. Which is naturally designated by a little North Korean flag flapping in the breeze. But then, he’s forced to stop when he hears a bustle nearby. Whipping around, his body tenses as he goes into full alert.

Perimeter breach! He forward-rolls into a fighting stance. I must warn you I know 15 different variations of North Korean martial arts and created 14 of them!

Then, as though berthed from the shadow, a figure peels itself away from the inky darkness and steps into the light of the moon. NK gasps.




















Thaddeus Duke! So the time has finally come, eh? Revealing your true colors! I’ve had you pegged for a CIA spook the whole time! I bet you alphabet people have a file on me and my exploits that’s as long as the Bible. He seems pretty proud of this. Well, it’s all true! Except for that one thing in Reno in 1983. I thought “Bong Hits for Jesus” was some kind of code to get myself into the American socialist underground. Honest mistake.

The effigy of Thad cocks his head, reaches behind himself, and pulls out a wicked blade that’s already smeared with blood.

I am ready you witless pawn of the ruling class!

The knife wielding man lunges suddenly, slashing with a practiced ease. NK is of course, weaponless, and doing his best to parry the blows. But the blade is getting perilously close to breaking NK’s defenses. How long can he keep it up?

HEY!

Another voice barks out. The assailant looks up to see Alias charging into the fray! He disengages and runs away, disappearing into the trees once more.

Are you alright?

Fit as a fiddle, Comrade Alias! Did you see who that was?!

Yeah... Alias’s features set into a grim countenance.

Good! The American government has wanted me dead for…

No. It was Thad. His words drip bitterness. I guess Louis finally broke him.

Or someone made to look like him. The XWF has long been hostile…

Whatever. We need to get back to camp. Form up again. Safety in numbers.

I agree.

With that, they both set off into the woods, going in the direction they last spotted the knife wielding attacker. Senses keen to their surroundings, the duo methodically pick their way through the brambles. North Korean War Criminal, out in front, speaks softly as the campfire is illuminated in the distance. I certainly hope no violence has befallen our other comrades. As self appointed security team leader, I would never forgive myself! I…

NK starts to become aware he’s not hearing a reply. Nor is he hearing the sounds of Alias moving through the underbrush behind him. He looks behind him. Alias is gone.


∞D: Through the Hand of Another - Centurion

Why didn’t I stay on vacation? Tokyo. Olympic athletes. Downtime with Ruby.

Nope. Company Man Centy wanted to play backup quarterback when a… “papal emergency” popped up.

Hell, I could’ve worked WarGames and had my publicist send a note.

“Camping’s not my scene. Staying at the five-star lakeside resort. Feel free to Call before you Don’t stop by! Your friend associate coworker, Centurion (Dictated, Not Read.)”

Now, I’m in the woods with a teenager, a fascist and a murderer. The Universal Champion? M.I.A. Dead? No time to wonder, but how does belt inheritance work…?

NK, start over... You were attacked. Alias saved you.

It was a collaborative defense, Corey Smith.

...Fine. Where’d you leave Alias?

The dictator’s lapdog shrugs.

We shared intelligence to surmise our attacker’s identity… Then, Comrade Alias was gone. From my position, I spotted the campfire. Thus, I returned.

Shared intelligence, huh? What’d you two eggheads put together?

NKWC wrinkles his nose. Offended. That’s rich.

Comrade Centurion, we hypothesized the US government… Or XWF management… desires my end. Each have a history of… sanctioned murder. How interesting that you, an XWF Legend and company ambassador, joined our collective…

This paranoid asshole’s pinning murder on me? No chance.

Before you spin this yarn, Kim Jong Un-fit, Corey and I have been back here dealing with another crime. Now, by my accounts, YOU split to ‘patrol the premises’. ALIAS saves YOU. Then, YOU return with NO Alias? Your problems now are ‘opportunity to commit murder’… and ‘lack of alibi’.

The tyrant-lover gets shifty, a cockroach skittering from a big hand swinging down on him.

HANG ON! This is what THEY want…

Corey wants the captain’s wheel. Naive wide-eyed talk... we’re a team... we gotta stick together. I tune out. Right now, this is about survival and I know the murderer is right he-....

In my periphery, in the trees, I spot a figure… wearing an Andre Dixon mask.






I’m already running.

If our assailant IS from XWF’s past, he didn’t do ALL his research. He tries to outrun me.

Big mistake.

He thinks he’ll lose me in foliage. I narrow the gap enough to close in… Within a half-click, I’m on top of him.

I sink claws into his jaw to wrench him to the ground…

Shit. His mask peels off like it’s attached by tissue and I lose footing on uneven terrain. A split-second later, he cuts right and skips into darkness. I’ll catch him if…

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!

Double shit. I’m already sprinting again.

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!

Sounds like Corey. Did that despot plan this…?

I cut through bushes, shaving seconds. Nearing the screeching, I see flashlights shimmering, close to basecamp. Corey’s still screaming for grown-ups.

HEEEEEEE-

My hand slaps over his mouth. I lean into his ear. Stay calm. If they know our position, that’s another advantage they have…

War Criminal kneels, hands wrapped in plastic, examining a corpse.

The fisherman.

Wearing Alias’ red clown wig.

Flannel shirt drenched in blood and bile. Long gash down his chest… gutted like a fish. An almost ironic end.

Based on internal temperature, he died… 54 minutes ago. NKWC retrieves a small thermometer from the corpse’s organs, returning it to his jacket pocket.

Great work, CSI Pyongyang. Follow-up question: This your handiwork?

The Shitstain sneers.

I’ve remained with Corey Smith. We both left camp in your direction as backup. We discovered this body together.

Corey calms down enough to nod. I remove my hand and Smith doubles over sick.

So, you’ve both got an alibi…

He might not…

The Totalitarian Dickhead raises his flashlight.

Bathed in dim light...

Alias. Knees tucked into his chest...

Bloodsoaked.

Muttering.

LeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHand.

This... is complicated…


∞E: Through the Hand of Another - Alias

I’m vaguely aware of being dragged to the campsite with NK to my right and Corey to my left. But I know there’s a monster out there. A real one.

Big scary monsters,
the ones that get you at night,
they hide in cupboards and behind doors,
just to give you a fright!


Out the cupboard goes shatter, shatter. The End.

Corey eclipses my sight of the fire. He’s being born of it now. You have to end before you can begin, though. I hope he remembers.

What happened to you out there?

My eyes narrow. I pull it from the mists. I found the fisherman. He was dead. I...tried to save him.

I had no fire.

There is a murderer on the loose. He was wearing a mask.

There was a Thad Duke mask beside the body. I wanted it to be him. Really him. The real monster.

But have you ever wondered
what its like to be a monster
hiding in the dark
and not coming into the light?


Centurion’s voice follows. Alright, so someone with a working knowledge of our opponents is screwing with us. Or... He looks around cryptically.

It’s not one of us! But it is someone who wants to BREAK us!

Well there’s only so many options as to who it could be.

Right! So it’s someone who knows us, someone who hates us. Or both. Someone who knew where we would be!

Someone’s missing. Or someone who was already here. George is the only one left, that we know of.

I don’t know, isn’t that a tad Scooby Doo? It’s always the owner. Centurion tries to inject some levity. It doesn’t work.

I mean, yeah. But why….? Corey looks pensive, like he doesn’t even want to consider the possibility. George seemed like a nice man.

Yeah, why?!

And into the light.









It’s a man wearing a Chris Chaos mask. How fitting to save that for the end.

The interloper slides off the mask.

Into the….

BURN HIM. EAT HIM.

It’s me….MORBID ANGEL! Haha! He throws his arms out.

You son of a bitch!

Oh come now! This was my plan all along! UNIFICATION! TRUST! Only thing I didn’t plan on was you guys replacing me so fast. That hurt! Morbid puts a hand to his heart.

So, it’s treason, then?!

Corey’s eyes are tearing up. You killed people you fucking asshole!

I SENT THEM TO THE LORD! Morbid responds defensively. Just...you know...a little earlier.

I’m already moving. Circling around to his side while he’s distracted by the banter. But Corey looks about ready to strike too.

Ah, ah, ah! Morbid holds up a hand. He notices me and pulls something from within his jacket. It looks like….

I have wired this whole camp to explode!

He holds what looks like a detonator in front of him.

Bullshit!

We can’t take that chance. I meet Corey’s eyes.

Shatter?

No. Determination. All of them. And then it happens. Complete spontaneous synchronicity. It’s poetry confined to human form and function. The vaunted teamwork that Corey had been looking for. It arrives suddenly, forcefully. Riding a tide of rage.

Centurion eyes the marshmallow stick, the tip still slick with goop.

NK’s foot finds a rock and he works his toe under it.

And Corey and I? Our eyes lock. And we tell The End “not today”.

NK kicks the rock up to his hand and throws it with precision, lumping Morbid in the forehead. As he stumbles back, Corey, Centurion and I advance. Centurion stabs Morbid in the eye with the marshmallow paste. Corey goes for the wrist on his left hand. And I go for the thumb, wrenching it back until I hear a snap. Morbid drops the device and I jump on it. Corey and Centurion simultaneously punch Morbid in the face, knocking him out. NK races in to check on me. Slowly, I open my hand to reveal the detonator.

Is it real?

NK’s eyes widen. Very!

He’s got the whooooole world, in his hands….!

I pass it to Corey immediately and my teammates breathe a sigh of relief.

An explosion.

Not of flames and fatality, but of unity.

Finality.

It is done.









∞F: That F is a Failing Grade for You All

You know what I love? LISTS! Call it the Assburgers in me, but I can’t get enough of ‘em! So, to that end, I have developed a list of the TOP 5 WAR GAMES PARTICIPANTS WHO ARE IN OVER THEIR HEADS! Starting from least useless (but still pretty useless) to most useless, they are:

5)Marf
4) Reggie Estrada
3) Money Oswald
2) Andre Dixon
1) Geri Vayden

If one of these is yours, congratulations...it’s a SCRUB! But my team? My team don’t want no scrubs. Because a “scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me….” Corey sings the lyric with aplomb. Heh. Sorry. But it’s true. Pick a scrub on my team. I dare you. Even the most iffy link on the chain….and Cent I bet you thought I was gonna say you! But it’s actually me. And even I just went ham on the most stacked Lethal Lottery line up since ever. But those names up there?

Wait, you see the names too? Alias pipes in. Do you want to talk about how NK’s colours were different when we were hiking?

Nope! Just switch back to the LIST! No one can deny it. Those names stick out like a sore thumb. Inconsistent. Overhyped. Somehow a part of Ghost Tank (or whatever). Records that are lackluster to say the least. I think you get the picture. You can pick them out instinctively. In fact, I bet if we had a secret ballot amongst every other War Games participant to create this list, it’d look pretty damn similar to mine. Except some might sub in Chaos. I don’t blame them.

These are your weak links right here. Marf, the lesser half of a duo that includes a woman who couldn’t buy a win for her first three months here. And who only went over my boy Alias in circumstances that were, how you say….a shit ton of fuck!

Reggie Estrada, who is the cornerstone of a team that cuts promos like they learned grammar and syntax from a Speak and Spell with dead batteries.

Money Oswald, who despite probably being a minor deity only just recently made B.O.B. elite in a sight that was as sad as Carrie being made prom queen. “They’re all gonna laugh at you!” Actually, we already are.

Good thing he has that championship, right? You know, the one he defends only when he wants to, and acts like that makes it special when in reality it’s because HE FUCKING MADE IT UP AND NOBODY CARES ABOUT HIM ENOUGH TO CHALLENGE IT!! That’s a common theme with BOB isn’t it? Especially with Andre Dixon…

Whose sheer volume of suck I have already covered in depth, but if you need a recap just Google “Andre Dixon” and “win” and enjoy your quarter page of results about his uncle’s past success. And finally….Geri Vayden. Is that self explanatory enough? The best thing I can say for her is that her weed laden short attention span translated to her not crashing and burning with the Baphomet.

Look, everyone on that list SUCKS, alright? But I guess somebody had to scoop those turds. I mean, somebody other than me. If you’re saying that ANY of those five reach the level of any member of my team, you’re making about as much sense as the thickheads who keep insisting I’m an egomaniac. Because egomaniacs regularly open their homes to the downtrodden and desperate, right? Motherfuckers taking a page from the Jim Caedus Tome of…Corey crosses his eyes and speaks in a derpy tone….”Corey’s A Psychopath”.

That’s pretty rich coming from the guy who turns his back on the friend he’s supposedly trying to make up with, just because said friend got his fucking ass beat. Don’t worry, I got your back, Cor’!

Uh… thanks?

You’re wel-CUM. And there you go, folks! The extent of Jim Caedus’s ingenuity. Congrats on the new, magic cunny, buddy! Maybe that bwitch can cast a spell that teaches you how to fucking speak with commas. Breathe, for fuck’s sake! I’m worried you’re about to get as choked up as Marf when he’s trying to break out of the fucking friend zone. Or worse, as choked up as Charlie Nickles when he realises that instead of ducking him as he claims, I actually agreed to a match with him back in March, only for him to decide he’s got a better chance teaming with fucking Ned Kaye and R.L. Edgar. Probably a wise choice actually. I don’t know if this is true, but it feels like that might be the last time Charlie - or whatever version he was - got a win. This cunt’s like a Dragon Ball Z villain in reverse - each new form is shitter than the last. If that dumb fuck wasn’t a captain himself, I’d say you might need to bump a name on your list, Corey!

And If captains are in the running for that list too, don’t forget about ol’ Fury! Selectively blocking out the last six months of Andy’s gal pal spanking her harder than Chris Page if he was juicing like Morby. She sure showed me! Talking about beating Ruby before I even poofed my way back here! Since then, I’ve won the Universal Championship. What the fuck has she done? And no, creating this OG-BOB team doesn’t count. Someone call Michael Graves because joke-BOB is back! As if it ever left.

Well said, Comrade Alias. To combine your points with Corey Smith’s… Look at the humiliating strategy on display from the captains that oppose us.

They have decidedly refused to acknowledge how utterly their weak links are dragging their teams down.

American-Style “Shout-Out” to Thaddeus Duke, swimming with not one but TWO anchors tied around his throat.

These captains? Too blind to see why these albatrosses will drag their teams down, suffocating under the weight of their own uselessness. They haven’t seen us in action. We aren’t four singles competitors wrestling in self-interest like free-market capitalists. We are a collective, each action chosen to derive maximum benefit for the whole.

And we will wear down you groups of individuals. And we will whittle you down until your weakest, most-vulnerable component breaks down…

Then we move onto the next. And the next. Until our opposition is ground to dust.

Your weakest link is our greatest strength. We will analyze, take advantage, overwhelm and decimate you, piece-by-piece.

You’re all rockin’ handicaps. And it’s going to catch up with you. He pauses. Oh, and a special shout out to Shawn Warstein, who finally made it to the rank of “Angel”. Which makes sense because like an angel, Shawn also sports smooth scrotumless nethers. Cry about it on Twitter ya nancy.

Of course. Of fucking course Shawn Warstein is in this match.

The man just can't stay away. Not truly. All the talk of "oh, I'm done, I've moved on", and yet, every major event the XWF has, Warstein pops back up like a bad case of herpes...which is fitting, given who he's replacing.

I know, I know. Another day, another comment slut shaming Atara. Which honestly isn't fair, because she has to hear that shit all the time, and yet Dick Powers is never once called out for the fact that he's given crabs to everyone in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Metro region.

I’ve received intel from Central Command that Dick Powers arrived in Bethel Woods early. The city’s free clinics are already exceeding capacity. Stop taxing already-overwhelmed American hospitals with your diseased rotting genitals, Dick Powers!

It's sexism, I tell you! Atara at least won titles while hoeing it up. Dick wins one match every three months and goes on a Clam Slam World Tour afterwards.

But hey, at least Dick is going to show up, so good for him. Good also on Geri Vayden, who decided to give up her babysitting job to come wrestle for the weekend. Of course, we know how this ends - disappointing, again. You want to talk about folks who had their opportunities - Geri's entire XWF career is just a list of great opportunities that she squandered. It's fine, though. She'll go back to Revolution1, talk about how she doesn't need us, then come back in two months like nothing happened.

Revolution1 sounds like a Netflix Original that’ll get cancelled halfway through the first season.

You know, you hate to see brothers fighting. Watching Robert Main and Jim Caedus go at it is going to be sad...well, sad and hilarious. The only thing bigger than APEX is the egos of each member of that faction.

And Robert Main’s fall from grace.

I hope Caedus eliminates Main, personally. Maybe then people will stop seeing Caedus as some also ran that became a big deal because he was associated with one of the best wrestlers of his era.

What, no one's saying that? Because I am.

Though Main will have a scapegoat if he does get eliminated, as I doubt Demos is going to put any energy into "team unity". That dude can't even unify his own personality. It's quite possible that Demos doesn't even know who his partners are. I wouldn't be surprised to see him suplex Dolly at some point in the match.

It's a good thing Michael Graves won't be around...though Marf does look eerily like a pedophile, so maybe she's not that safe.

Dolly! Buddy system! Okay?

Not cool, guys!

I look around and I see a bunch of teams who are guaranteeing victory, and yet none of them have the pedigree we do. Look at us! Universal Champion! Leap Of Faith winner! Anarchy Champion! A dude that has a pile of skeletons in his basement! We're an unbeatable team.

We know it.

You know it.

Everyone knows it.

Get the fuck over it.

Pardon the throwback but it’s not like having no scrotum is a bad thing! I’m not gonna go in on Dolly or Betsy. Unlike Thad Duke, I won’t use War as an excuse to flip the bird to those I trust. I just still find it funny that Chris Chaos got pissy at me for having friends, right after he called me a loner! Makes as much sense as Thad even fucking choosing him to begin with. But now? After what we’ve been through, my friend group has all of a sudden gotten bigger. Even if it’s just for one night...

I trust Centurion.

I trust the North Korean War Criminal.

And for all of you - mostly BOB who seem to spend every waking moment trying to point out the fucking obvious - well I’ve got the ultimate sign of trust that I need from Corey Smith. I’m not just the Universal Champion…

Alias raises the 24/7 Briefcase in the air. Corey gestures at it theatrically and mouths “uh oh” as countless minutes of “Corey’s gonna betray Alias” arguments get sucked down the shitter.

Until War Games is over, I’m Mr. 24/725/8 again. And since Corey has been so kind as to give me this gift, I felt it would only be right to give you all a gift too! We all heard how Louis bitched and moaned after doing his best Chris Chaos impression and shitting the bed at Mayday, blaming it all on Corey. Well between Cor’ and I, it seems we’ve got the magic answer for how any of you can put ol’ Lou down. Corey, show them.

Corey walks up to Centurion. And pushes him.





What the hell?

Who else was he going to push, Andy? The eight-foot-tall plus possibly-immortal guy? That’s all it takes though, kids! To unravel the big bad. One push. And he falls a-fucking-part.

Now you know.

Now you can do what we can do.

But there is one thing you can’t do.

One thing that we will.

See, I’m not just going to Eat The World, friends.

We all are.]]> <![CDATA[Heart of Darkness V]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41526 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 21:27:56 -0700 Chris Chaos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41526 It has to be 100 degrees outside, even at night. Hot, muggy. Sweltering. Mosquitos rule the roost, and bugs the size of silverware made it a horror movie come-to-life outside, like something out of the Mist by Stephen King. I swear I’ve swatted away more creatures than the Kardashian sisters.

Fucking Florida.

The lights are on in the trailer, but it’s hard to see detail inside due to the dirtiness of the window. Two old cars sat out front, one on blocks with the wheels missing and one that looked as though it hadn’t been driven, or even started, in decades. But I know it has, I can still smell the gas.

Fucking Florida.

There is music coming from inside, a muffle hum of a portable bass speaker and the unmistakable odor of marijuana. There were voices as well, male and female, and they were louder than should have been necessary for the music volume. Not yelling loud, but annoying, intoxicated and talking at a higher than necessary volume loud. Sprinkle in a few cigarette-cracked laughs. The driveway and front yard are littered with nonsense, tributes to a life of not-giving-a-fuck and being too lazy to even if they wanted to. This is really the job they want? This person was really that high of an interest to them? This person wasn’t even of a high interest to themselves, based on their living standard. But, drugs pay, and a body pays more.

Fucking Florida.

My breathing comes to almost a halt, I have to be as quiet as possible. One thing about Florida rednecks, they always have guns and plenty of them.

“Dey took er’ jerbs!” came to my head and I had to stifle a giggle.

”Really? What the fuck is this? Are you serious?”

Using Doc’s gauntlet, I touch him on his shoulder. Forcing him to watch.

”Keep watching,” I instruct him.

I was standing outside, waiting. I was always far too patient.

‘Just kick in the door and start blasting’ I heard me tell myself, but that wouldn’t be very practical. I shook my head.

”GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

There is noise in the garage, I think the door leading into the house opened. Maybe someone is coming out to get beer? Maybe they know? Honestly….why was I just standing there?

IDIOT!

But I froze.

”I really don’t need to see…..”

“KEEP WATCHING!” I shout at him, my voice was almost a growl now, the gauntlet? Perhaps. Again, I grab Chaos by his shoulder.

The garage door opened, and I took a deep breath. I took a few steps forward and hid in the shadows of the overgrown shrubs by the garage. The target had been located. I reached into my pocket and I felt the cold steel. I could see the dollar signs in my eyes. I could see my mother tied up, the bruises on her face…..this would be easy. I have done this hundreds of times before.

Literally hundreds.

Some referred to me as “the best”.

As the target stepped out into the open air, I pulled my hand out of my pocket. I felt the coldness on my flesh as I whipped my hand upwards and…..

Froze.

He was holding his infant daughter in his arms. She was smiling and giggling, but instantly began to cry as she saw me. My eyes met his……..and my cold soul……..

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get the job done………

Suddenly the image cracked and blurred, it became like watching a blender grind up ingredients and I even felt the pinch.

I was suddenly staring at the lights.

I was on my back.

”What the hell is this?

“FOCUS,” I order, and by using the gauntlet, force Chaos against his will to watch his failures.

Jim Caedus stood above me. He was sweaty and gross, as usual. Grunting like a caveman, eyes wide like a caveman on meth.
He grinned, his yellow teeth barely visible through the scruff on his face.

I felt the weight on my body. I felt my leg lift. I heard the slaps on the mat.

Once.


Twice.


Three Times.

I heard the bell ring.

I tried to get up and I couldn’t get up.

I blinked, and I opened my eyes again.

Robert Main was standing above me.

Robby Bourbon.

Caedus and Main again. The smell wasn’t pleasant this time around either.

I blinked again.

Doctor D’Ville.

THADDEUS DUKE!

ALIAS!

”Stop! Just stop. I get it.”

A force grabbed my hair, shoved me forward. Holding my head in place.

“You don’t. You don’t get it Chris. You were the best in the world. You were the cream of the crop. You were the saving grace. The voice of an era. The face of a company...

“I mean, at least in your own mind.

“The reality cuts a little different though. You were the top dog once… I told you then, I meant it then, and I mean it now… You were a minnow in the shallows, and the sharks had not yet come to feast.

“They came Chris, like I told you they would. They ate you alive, like I told you they would.

“...and now…..you’re this.

“Chris….you want to point fingers. Woe is me, woe is Chris. You fail to see that through all of this that your talent is still there. Your abilities have not wavered in the five years you’ve been here. Your passion and fire is still there. Your biggest problem, Chris….is HERE.”

A sharp pain stabbed me in the chest.

“Here…...and…….here.”

My head was pounding, as if an elephant was charging into the front of my skull.

“What happened Chris, is YOU. Your conscience. You were so worried about being liked, getting along, and being respected that you lost what made you... you.”

”I hate you so much.”

“Feeling's mutual. Anyway, not nearly as much as you hate you.”

I felt my lip curl into a snarl.

“You lost what you loved about you, and you lost what THEY loved about you. You had no conscience, no soul, no qualms with doing and saying whatever the hell you wanted, regardless of whose feathers you ruffled. You had no qualms coming out telling us you were the best….and you damn sure proved it… at least for a little while…

“This isn’t Thad’s fault, Doc’s fault, Jim’s fault, Engy’s fault, Corey’s fault… Alias… no Chris… you killed the chaos.

“…you quit.”

Staring at Chris, I see the anger inside of him, begging to be let out. Reminding him of his failures is pleasing to me and I can’t help but smile. He tugs at the sides of his hair, his jaw clenches. And with the snap of the gauntlet fingers… nothing happens.

Chaos looks at me for a second.

”What the fuck, Doc!”

With another snap of the fingers…

Poooof!

”What’s up Dawk… you ain’t Dawk. What’s up Thad?”

Another snap.

Nothing.

”Shut the fuck up Cadryn, I’m busy.”

Another snap, another nothing. Finally, I backhand Cadryn into the nether-realm and my intended scenery appears before us. It takes a moment for Chris to take in what he’s seeing.

Warfare.

December 23rd, 2020.

Incensed with rage as the images of me and him from that night live again in front of us. Smiling at him, almost from ear to ear, he steps face to face to me.

”This is for your own fucking ego!”

I chuckle a moment.

”My ego doesn’t need anymore filling,” I say to him. ”And it’s not about me Chris, this was never about me and always about you.”

”I know what fucking happened, Thad!” he calls back, pacing the ring in front of me. He looks at me, then looks at us fighting over seven months ago. Then back to me. ”I damn near had you!”

”You were never getting me to quit Chris,” I inform him. ”Do you know why I chose an I Quit match?”

”To fucking embarrass me!” he shouts and stands face to face with me again.

”No, I did it to prove a point...”


In the “live action replay:” ”I Quit!”


”To prove to you… that you quit...”

”I fucking remember!” he shouts, biting his fist as he tries hard not to what to take me out here and now.

”No,” I interject. ”I don’t mean the match… I mean you quit on yourself a long time ago and I made you quit on live television in front of millions to make you say it out loud.”

”I fucking...”

”You fucking what… Chris?” I ask him, stepping to him. ”Does this piss you off? Does this make you so fucking mad that you want to rip my head off my shoulders right now?”

”You’re god damn right it does!”

”Good,” I say to him and head for the ropes.

”What the hell do you mean good!?” he asks, grabbing my shoulder.

”If I wanted the sad sack pushover you’ve been the last few years… then I’d have never drafted you to begin with,” I begin to explain as I step through the ropes. ”What I want, Chris… is for you to be angry. To be pissed. To be ready to go out there at War Games and not completely suck.”

Exiting the ring, I leave Chaos there to stew in his own anger as the past me and him fade away. He stands in the ring alone.

"You may be right, Alias, my own team captain may think I am a doofus. He may look down on me, and he may think that I can't and will never again beat him......

But those opinions now matter as much as Donald Trump's do. He is on my team, and I no longer have to go through him to get to the promised land. To be completely honest, I would rather have him have low expectations and be pleasantly surprised when I come out and ravish Woodstock Sunday night than have to constantly look over my shoulder for him.....

Oh yes, that's right. You are the UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, and not even the captain of your own team. In fact, your team captain wants what you have the pleasure of holding, and has made that very well known. He has also been known to cash in a time or two………

But who am I to say? I have nothing you want and damn sure nothing you need. My team needs nothing from me other than for me to come out and do what I do best, throw bodies around with reckless abandon. My team wants nothing more from me than to bring the old Chris Chaos back. But for you…...you’re a target, Alias. You’re the flavor of the week, they know it and you know it. You’re hot shit now but they’ll go right back to not caring again once that belt is off your shoulder. I know, I’ve been there. The biggest dog in the yard doesn’t always have the strongest bite.

You may think I am some washed up scrub. You may think that Chris Chaos is more of a threat to himself than to anyone else here. You may think that I will continue to fuck up everything I touch and continue to be the running joke that even Jimmy Fallon wouldn’t laugh it (why was he always laughing during skits on SNL?!!! STOP THAT!), but the fact of the matter is……I am sitting pretty. I have two of the best to ever do this on my team, and I can help them build into something amazing and win this whole shindig. You have a team that secretly wants YOU to fail, but them to win. When you’re the champ, you have no allies. They’ll never admit it. They’ll keep stroking your balls and massaging your massive ego but Alias, facts are facts. You are nothing but an opportunity to them. Vulchers. Snakes. Sharks. And since Morbid decided to throw up a middle finger with one hand and jerk off Jesus with the other, you're given Centurion. You think this makes your chances higher? How does it feel to be the third best on your team, and the one with the only thing anyone who is anyone in this business truly wants? You see how this is coming together now? You and I are both surrounded by legends whose accomplishments are far outshadowed by our own teammates. How does it feel to be a paper champion whose own team makes your belt look like the crown in a Burger King meal?

I bet it's not so good.

I hope so.

So Kim Jung is a little bothered by my insults? Typical. Those people have never been keen to being made fun of. You lost the war once, Sunday will be no different. Your entire people’s history is based on not being able to fully get the job done. Your team is expecting you to be eliminated first. You’re out of shape, Kim Jong-Un..limited servings. You look like an Albino Ninja Turtle. You walk with legends….the Universal Champion, a former multi-time champion whose won everything (seriously, he’s like 85 now) and the name who keeps winning in different bodies and expects us to keep up with 2021 social trends to address him properly. You? Your body type is melted sidewalk ice cream. I am going to make sure that you do your part, and early on. But your promos, such fire! But your talent level? You’re a weird combo. It’s like loading the guns for your own execution and then mooning the shooters while screaming "No Balls!" at them. I am going to put you down like the dog you are.

I bet you just got hungry, huh?

Corey…..Corey, Corey, Corey. It seems like our paths have been crossing quite a bit lately, haven’t they? You’ve had quite a bit to say about me in recent months. I get it. You think I suck. You don’t respect me. You think I’ve reduced myself from one of the sharpest tongues here to making adrogenous sexual orientation jokes and frat-house poop humor. I get it. You think Chris Chaos is the one who doesn’t pay attention, who doesn’t ever know what is going on, and roll your eyes when I say--like many other people here feel but are too afraid to say--that this company is out to get them……..

Weren’t these draft picks RANDOM? Weren’t they taken out of a hat, or bowl, or second hole of a Dick Powers fleshlight? So when you told Andre that he was the “one Ms. Fury DIDN’T pick…..” wouldn’t that scream set up? Scream fraud. Scream…..uh…..deception?!

JUDAS!

But wouldn’t it also say that despite everything that everyone seems to think that my teammates think about me, that they picked me to go on this journey with them? Wouldn’t it say that YOU picked Morbid Angel….a perpetual flake (and not the same way you are, yours has snow in front of it), and North Korean War Criminal, someone who is a step higher than Bilbo and a step lower than Game Girl? Wouldn’t that say that you surrounded yourself with people that wouldn’t out-shine you to better feed your ego and make the XWF world do the one thing you so desperately long for them to do? Talk about Corey Smith. Why else would you THANK Centurion for becoming a member of the team? Well, it makes your team look stronger, for one. But at this point, Cent is just here to show up a few times a month and earn his pension. He isn't here to be in the limelight anymore....but his name, his name holds more weight than a metric ton. So of course, Corey looks good. So Kim Jung and Cent fall to the wayside, and it is just you and Alias…….and that is when you strike. Of course…..everyone is talking about Corey. Just how you “planned” it, right? “I will face Alias once he is the Uni Champ for record time”. Corey, you, or some version of “you” have been around this business long enough to know that the champ can lose at any time, to anyone, and then your whole plan goes to shit. I said before, you’re the smartest little pole smoker in the game…...and the sleaziest.

Am I wrong? Oh yeah, that is right, whatever Corey says is gold. You can't turn his words around, right? Only Chris Chaos says things that aren't true, and only Chris Chaos has his words spun on him. How silly of me to think otherwise.

If that isn't a testament to your ego, I don't know what is.

I see you Corey, we all see you. If you aren't Universal Champion after War Games.....well....then I will publicly admit my wrong on the next show.

I just called your hand. I just put a wrench in your ‘plan’. I just proved to everyone that not only am I better than you....I am....*gasp* SMARTER....

Who'd have thunk it?”

Sitting on the Warfare stage watching on as Chaos finishes his promo, Doc D’Ville appears beside me.

”What do you think?”

I shrug for a moment… exactly as long as Shawn Warstein because fuck you, that’s why…

”He’s pretty pissed off,” I point out the obvious.

”Pissed off enough?”

”We only need him to not be his usual self,” I remind him. ”This is entirely experimental.”

”And if nothing changes?” Doc asks of me. ”If War Games comes and goes and Chris Chaos is still just Chris Kind of Obnoxious?”

”Then I stand by what I told you privately,” I say, looking over at him. ”I’d rather lose with you, than win with anyone else.

“Regardless, he’ll be serviceable enough. And I don’t much plan on losin’.

“Anyway, how’s our other project coming along?”]]> It has to be 100 degrees outside, even at night. Hot, muggy. Sweltering. Mosquitos rule the roost, and bugs the size of silverware made it a horror movie come-to-life outside, like something out of the Mist by Stephen King. I swear I’ve swatted away more creatures than the Kardashian sisters.

Fucking Florida.

The lights are on in the trailer, but it’s hard to see detail inside due to the dirtiness of the window. Two old cars sat out front, one on blocks with the wheels missing and one that looked as though it hadn’t been driven, or even started, in decades. But I know it has, I can still smell the gas.

Fucking Florida.

There is music coming from inside, a muffle hum of a portable bass speaker and the unmistakable odor of marijuana. There were voices as well, male and female, and they were louder than should have been necessary for the music volume. Not yelling loud, but annoying, intoxicated and talking at a higher than necessary volume loud. Sprinkle in a few cigarette-cracked laughs. The driveway and front yard are littered with nonsense, tributes to a life of not-giving-a-fuck and being too lazy to even if they wanted to. This is really the job they want? This person was really that high of an interest to them? This person wasn’t even of a high interest to themselves, based on their living standard. But, drugs pay, and a body pays more.

Fucking Florida.

My breathing comes to almost a halt, I have to be as quiet as possible. One thing about Florida rednecks, they always have guns and plenty of them.

“Dey took er’ jerbs!” came to my head and I had to stifle a giggle.

”Really? What the fuck is this? Are you serious?”

Using Doc’s gauntlet, I touch him on his shoulder. Forcing him to watch.

”Keep watching,” I instruct him.

I was standing outside, waiting. I was always far too patient.

‘Just kick in the door and start blasting’ I heard me tell myself, but that wouldn’t be very practical. I shook my head.

”GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

There is noise in the garage, I think the door leading into the house opened. Maybe someone is coming out to get beer? Maybe they know? Honestly….why was I just standing there?

IDIOT!

But I froze.

”I really don’t need to see…..”

“KEEP WATCHING!” I shout at him, my voice was almost a growl now, the gauntlet? Perhaps. Again, I grab Chaos by his shoulder.

The garage door opened, and I took a deep breath. I took a few steps forward and hid in the shadows of the overgrown shrubs by the garage. The target had been located. I reached into my pocket and I felt the cold steel. I could see the dollar signs in my eyes. I could see my mother tied up, the bruises on her face…..this would be easy. I have done this hundreds of times before.

Literally hundreds.

Some referred to me as “the best”.

As the target stepped out into the open air, I pulled my hand out of my pocket. I felt the coldness on my flesh as I whipped my hand upwards and…..

Froze.

He was holding his infant daughter in his arms. She was smiling and giggling, but instantly began to cry as she saw me. My eyes met his……..and my cold soul……..

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get the job done………

Suddenly the image cracked and blurred, it became like watching a blender grind up ingredients and I even felt the pinch.

I was suddenly staring at the lights.

I was on my back.

”What the hell is this?

“FOCUS,” I order, and by using the gauntlet, force Chaos against his will to watch his failures.

Jim Caedus stood above me. He was sweaty and gross, as usual. Grunting like a caveman, eyes wide like a caveman on meth.
He grinned, his yellow teeth barely visible through the scruff on his face.

I felt the weight on my body. I felt my leg lift. I heard the slaps on the mat.

Once.


Twice.


Three Times.

I heard the bell ring.

I tried to get up and I couldn’t get up.

I blinked, and I opened my eyes again.

Robert Main was standing above me.

Robby Bourbon.

Caedus and Main again. The smell wasn’t pleasant this time around either.

I blinked again.

Doctor D’Ville.

THADDEUS DUKE!

ALIAS!

”Stop! Just stop. I get it.”

A force grabbed my hair, shoved me forward. Holding my head in place.

“You don’t. You don’t get it Chris. You were the best in the world. You were the cream of the crop. You were the saving grace. The voice of an era. The face of a company...

“I mean, at least in your own mind.

“The reality cuts a little different though. You were the top dog once… I told you then, I meant it then, and I mean it now… You were a minnow in the shallows, and the sharks had not yet come to feast.

“They came Chris, like I told you they would. They ate you alive, like I told you they would.

“...and now…..you’re this.

“Chris….you want to point fingers. Woe is me, woe is Chris. You fail to see that through all of this that your talent is still there. Your abilities have not wavered in the five years you’ve been here. Your passion and fire is still there. Your biggest problem, Chris….is HERE.”

A sharp pain stabbed me in the chest.

“Here…...and…….here.”

My head was pounding, as if an elephant was charging into the front of my skull.

“What happened Chris, is YOU. Your conscience. You were so worried about being liked, getting along, and being respected that you lost what made you... you.”

”I hate you so much.”

“Feeling's mutual. Anyway, not nearly as much as you hate you.”

I felt my lip curl into a snarl.

“You lost what you loved about you, and you lost what THEY loved about you. You had no conscience, no soul, no qualms with doing and saying whatever the hell you wanted, regardless of whose feathers you ruffled. You had no qualms coming out telling us you were the best….and you damn sure proved it… at least for a little while…

“This isn’t Thad’s fault, Doc’s fault, Jim’s fault, Engy’s fault, Corey’s fault… Alias… no Chris… you killed the chaos.

“…you quit.”

Staring at Chris, I see the anger inside of him, begging to be let out. Reminding him of his failures is pleasing to me and I can’t help but smile. He tugs at the sides of his hair, his jaw clenches. And with the snap of the gauntlet fingers… nothing happens.

Chaos looks at me for a second.

”What the fuck, Doc!”

With another snap of the fingers…

Poooof!

”What’s up Dawk… you ain’t Dawk. What’s up Thad?”

Another snap.

Nothing.

”Shut the fuck up Cadryn, I’m busy.”

Another snap, another nothing. Finally, I backhand Cadryn into the nether-realm and my intended scenery appears before us. It takes a moment for Chris to take in what he’s seeing.

Warfare.

December 23rd, 2020.

Incensed with rage as the images of me and him from that night live again in front of us. Smiling at him, almost from ear to ear, he steps face to face to me.

”This is for your own fucking ego!”

I chuckle a moment.

”My ego doesn’t need anymore filling,” I say to him. ”And it’s not about me Chris, this was never about me and always about you.”

”I know what fucking happened, Thad!” he calls back, pacing the ring in front of me. He looks at me, then looks at us fighting over seven months ago. Then back to me. ”I damn near had you!”

”You were never getting me to quit Chris,” I inform him. ”Do you know why I chose an I Quit match?”

”To fucking embarrass me!” he shouts and stands face to face with me again.

”No, I did it to prove a point...”


In the “live action replay:” ”I Quit!”


”To prove to you… that you quit...”

”I fucking remember!” he shouts, biting his fist as he tries hard not to what to take me out here and now.

”No,” I interject. ”I don’t mean the match… I mean you quit on yourself a long time ago and I made you quit on live television in front of millions to make you say it out loud.”

”I fucking...”

”You fucking what… Chris?” I ask him, stepping to him. ”Does this piss you off? Does this make you so fucking mad that you want to rip my head off my shoulders right now?”

”You’re god damn right it does!”

”Good,” I say to him and head for the ropes.

”What the hell do you mean good!?” he asks, grabbing my shoulder.

”If I wanted the sad sack pushover you’ve been the last few years… then I’d have never drafted you to begin with,” I begin to explain as I step through the ropes. ”What I want, Chris… is for you to be angry. To be pissed. To be ready to go out there at War Games and not completely suck.”

Exiting the ring, I leave Chaos there to stew in his own anger as the past me and him fade away. He stands in the ring alone.

"You may be right, Alias, my own team captain may think I am a doofus. He may look down on me, and he may think that I can't and will never again beat him......

But those opinions now matter as much as Donald Trump's do. He is on my team, and I no longer have to go through him to get to the promised land. To be completely honest, I would rather have him have low expectations and be pleasantly surprised when I come out and ravish Woodstock Sunday night than have to constantly look over my shoulder for him.....

Oh yes, that's right. You are the UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, and not even the captain of your own team. In fact, your team captain wants what you have the pleasure of holding, and has made that very well known. He has also been known to cash in a time or two………

But who am I to say? I have nothing you want and damn sure nothing you need. My team needs nothing from me other than for me to come out and do what I do best, throw bodies around with reckless abandon. My team wants nothing more from me than to bring the old Chris Chaos back. But for you…...you’re a target, Alias. You’re the flavor of the week, they know it and you know it. You’re hot shit now but they’ll go right back to not caring again once that belt is off your shoulder. I know, I’ve been there. The biggest dog in the yard doesn’t always have the strongest bite.

You may think I am some washed up scrub. You may think that Chris Chaos is more of a threat to himself than to anyone else here. You may think that I will continue to fuck up everything I touch and continue to be the running joke that even Jimmy Fallon wouldn’t laugh it (why was he always laughing during skits on SNL?!!! STOP THAT!), but the fact of the matter is……I am sitting pretty. I have two of the best to ever do this on my team, and I can help them build into something amazing and win this whole shindig. You have a team that secretly wants YOU to fail, but them to win. When you’re the champ, you have no allies. They’ll never admit it. They’ll keep stroking your balls and massaging your massive ego but Alias, facts are facts. You are nothing but an opportunity to them. Vulchers. Snakes. Sharks. And since Morbid decided to throw up a middle finger with one hand and jerk off Jesus with the other, you're given Centurion. You think this makes your chances higher? How does it feel to be the third best on your team, and the one with the only thing anyone who is anyone in this business truly wants? You see how this is coming together now? You and I are both surrounded by legends whose accomplishments are far outshadowed by our own teammates. How does it feel to be a paper champion whose own team makes your belt look like the crown in a Burger King meal?

I bet it's not so good.

I hope so.

So Kim Jung is a little bothered by my insults? Typical. Those people have never been keen to being made fun of. You lost the war once, Sunday will be no different. Your entire people’s history is based on not being able to fully get the job done. Your team is expecting you to be eliminated first. You’re out of shape, Kim Jong-Un..limited servings. You look like an Albino Ninja Turtle. You walk with legends….the Universal Champion, a former multi-time champion whose won everything (seriously, he’s like 85 now) and the name who keeps winning in different bodies and expects us to keep up with 2021 social trends to address him properly. You? Your body type is melted sidewalk ice cream. I am going to make sure that you do your part, and early on. But your promos, such fire! But your talent level? You’re a weird combo. It’s like loading the guns for your own execution and then mooning the shooters while screaming "No Balls!" at them. I am going to put you down like the dog you are.

I bet you just got hungry, huh?

Corey…..Corey, Corey, Corey. It seems like our paths have been crossing quite a bit lately, haven’t they? You’ve had quite a bit to say about me in recent months. I get it. You think I suck. You don’t respect me. You think I’ve reduced myself from one of the sharpest tongues here to making adrogenous sexual orientation jokes and frat-house poop humor. I get it. You think Chris Chaos is the one who doesn’t pay attention, who doesn’t ever know what is going on, and roll your eyes when I say--like many other people here feel but are too afraid to say--that this company is out to get them……..

Weren’t these draft picks RANDOM? Weren’t they taken out of a hat, or bowl, or second hole of a Dick Powers fleshlight? So when you told Andre that he was the “one Ms. Fury DIDN’T pick…..” wouldn’t that scream set up? Scream fraud. Scream…..uh…..deception?!

JUDAS!

But wouldn’t it also say that despite everything that everyone seems to think that my teammates think about me, that they picked me to go on this journey with them? Wouldn’t it say that YOU picked Morbid Angel….a perpetual flake (and not the same way you are, yours has snow in front of it), and North Korean War Criminal, someone who is a step higher than Bilbo and a step lower than Game Girl? Wouldn’t that say that you surrounded yourself with people that wouldn’t out-shine you to better feed your ego and make the XWF world do the one thing you so desperately long for them to do? Talk about Corey Smith. Why else would you THANK Centurion for becoming a member of the team? Well, it makes your team look stronger, for one. But at this point, Cent is just here to show up a few times a month and earn his pension. He isn't here to be in the limelight anymore....but his name, his name holds more weight than a metric ton. So of course, Corey looks good. So Kim Jung and Cent fall to the wayside, and it is just you and Alias…….and that is when you strike. Of course…..everyone is talking about Corey. Just how you “planned” it, right? “I will face Alias once he is the Uni Champ for record time”. Corey, you, or some version of “you” have been around this business long enough to know that the champ can lose at any time, to anyone, and then your whole plan goes to shit. I said before, you’re the smartest little pole smoker in the game…...and the sleaziest.

Am I wrong? Oh yeah, that is right, whatever Corey says is gold. You can't turn his words around, right? Only Chris Chaos says things that aren't true, and only Chris Chaos has his words spun on him. How silly of me to think otherwise.

If that isn't a testament to your ego, I don't know what is.

I see you Corey, we all see you. If you aren't Universal Champion after War Games.....well....then I will publicly admit my wrong on the next show.

I just called your hand. I just put a wrench in your ‘plan’. I just proved to everyone that not only am I better than you....I am....*gasp* SMARTER....

Who'd have thunk it?”

Sitting on the Warfare stage watching on as Chaos finishes his promo, Doc D’Ville appears beside me.

”What do you think?”

I shrug for a moment… exactly as long as Shawn Warstein because fuck you, that’s why…

”He’s pretty pissed off,” I point out the obvious.

”Pissed off enough?”

”We only need him to not be his usual self,” I remind him. ”This is entirely experimental.”

”And if nothing changes?” Doc asks of me. ”If War Games comes and goes and Chris Chaos is still just Chris Kind of Obnoxious?”

”Then I stand by what I told you privately,” I say, looking over at him. ”I’d rather lose with you, than win with anyone else.

“Regardless, he’ll be serviceable enough. And I don’t much plan on losin’.

“Anyway, how’s our other project coming along?”]]> <![CDATA[Heart of Darkness IV]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41527 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 21:26:17 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41527


Floating nearly lifeless in the void, my thoughts on War Games and my career continue on. If this is it for me, if I’ve lived the dangerous life I live only to lose it because my best friend shot me in… a dream? An alternative reality? Then I die at peace with it all. I’ve always lived my life fast and on the edge because I just didn’t know when it’d all end so Alias can make his sorry little jokes about leading my nation 24/7 while I’m simultaneously doing other things. Just because I don’t show you everything, doesn’t mean things aren’t happening. If this is the end… I die happy, knowing I leave behind me a legacy of excellence that so few can match. I die knowing ,y life lives on in the lives of my children. I die knowing that someone loved me for something other than my big fucking.... bank account. I die knowing that I’ve escaped the shadows of those that came before me. I die knowing that I’ve done everything there is to do in the XWF. I die knowing that in only a month, I’ve left OCW in a much better, stronger place than I found it. Small, sure. Them signing me opened the floodgates and forced their hand. They have no choice but to grow stronger.

But... FUCKTHAD… right?

But for some reason Thad has a blind spot for someone that regularly fucks with his head... Remember that Corey...

If that name isn’t telling, I don’t know what is. Go on and admit that my image, my actions, my success lives in every single one of their heads… and excuse the overused cliché… rent free. It’s truly an honor that everything I am sticks in their sides like a fucking dagger. It’s an honor that no matter what titles they wear individually, no matter what they accomplish in their respective careers… none of it outshines the shine on me.

Alias tries and fails miserably at lambasting me for making mistakes in my personal life that I’m not proud of while dreaming? Or whatever… of my son holding my severed head. I’m such a horrible person because I succumbed to pleasures of the flesh while he desires my death… the hypocrisy would be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking disturbing and transparent.

I deliver death on my enemies because I have to, not because I want to. He dreams of mine, desires mine… because he’s a disturbed individual with an inferiority complex that he’s begun covering with arrogance and ego. Gee, I wonder where I’ve seen that before. Another Omegalomaniac.

That team spent time picking apart my team, hitting Dixon for his spotty appearances, my selection, only for one of theirs to not even show up. Andre Dixon has been spotty lately, but he showed up, didn’t he? And he’ll show up again because unlike some others, loyalty means maybe as much to him as it does me. Possibly even more.

Seems childish now doesn’t it? Railing against Dixon for his flightiness of late only for one of their own to… disappear at the last moment.

NorthKoreanWarCriminal thinks I have two BoB adjacent teammates. Maybe I do but here’s a little secret that isn’t much of a secret: I don’t have the hard on for BoB that so many others seem to have. The members of BoB do what they think is in their own best interest… and I don’t give a fuck.

Chaos?

Yeah we’ve had our differences and that’s no secret. But there was a time when he wasn’t a joke, when he wasn’t a laughing stock. There was a time when he was dominating the XWF. FUCKTHAD can make their immature little jokes all they want but it's not Chaos they’ll need to beat in order to advance.

Centurion, my best frienemy. Let me preface this by saying straight up, that I have no issues with Morbid bouncing and Centurion stepping in to take his place. The question I have though is: how does it feel Cent, to know management sees you on equal footing with someone like Morbid Angel? Someone I very easily could have waxed in the ring some weeks ago but chose not to because I’m… such a horrible person… I guess?

I haven’t had a new insult in three years? C’mon man… Insults aren’t even my bag. I’m not Bobby or TK dude, I don’t need to rely on juvenile nothing filled promos disguised as ‘shit talk’ to get by. I’m not who you think I am but coming off the bench the way you are, I’ll overlook your own stupidity for now.

Greatest to ever lace them though? Come on dude, despite your “championship” you’re not even the best competitor on the “C” show. But hey, at least we finally found a good reason for you to lose to me… amirite? Silver linings and all.

Estrada’s Angels? I’m sure no less than a dozen people have already asked it but why is that team named after the last draft pick Betsy had? And I fully expect Shawn Warstein to be dressed like a woman otherwise, the whole team name is just ridiculously lame. I’d talk more about them, but let’s be real… BoB is already popping champagne corks in victory because the Bastards are about to eat Warstein alive. I hate to say it because Betsy’s a sweetheart and I love her to death but… good night Angels.

Charlie’s Carnies? Filled with a whole lot of losses to yours truly. Charlie? 3 time loser. Main? Twice. Marf? See Main. Dolly Waters?

Fuck.

You're my sister from another mister and I love you to death but your own worst enemy has always been yourself and you never win that battle. You’re not even 20 yet and you’ve already had what? Two retirements? I’d say you’re like the second coming of Chris Page but I don’t want to knock Chris Page.

I hope it's different this time because as your friend and your brother, I want to see you win the big one.

Aww, my pal Jimmy Caedus calls me Thaddeus Fluke as if his whole re-emergence isn’t in and of itself a fluke. He calls me a whiny bitch that takes my ball and goes home while, one, I’ve been running roughshod over the XWF for more than a year and he himself… takes his conspiracy ball and goes home within six months of his comebacks almost without fail. How long has he been back? We’re about the halfway point aren’t we? I’m sure the conspiracy ball is already in flight, just waiting to hit him right in the chest.

And he talks about Dolly being unreliable?

Laugh.

My.

Ass.

Off.

I guess we all need a mental break every now and then, don’t we?

Your boy didn’t “let” me win, Jimmy. He lost because I’m better than he is. He lost because as you said, he’s living down to his Omega moniker just as I always live up to mine. And I liked your little Alpha Beats Omega analogy because Alpha is exactly what I’ve been since I’ve come back to this business and your boy learned it the hard way just like so many others have. Thanks for helping me out there Jimmy.

I’d remind you that I’m not the same guy you didn’t beat four years ago, but it's not like you’re making it past the Carnies anyway.

War Games.

Less games, more war.

It’s like the Civil War and we’re all just… turning on each other.


No longer floating through the void, I’ve begun free falling. My heart stopped beating, the blood stopped oozing from the wound in my chest. Dryness sets in on my eyeballs as I stare blankly and motionless toward the blank void above. Soon though, I land with a thud on a dirt surface and bounce upward before coming to rest again. On impact, the little remaining air in my lungs is knocked out. The ancient remnants of a past severe concussion rings through my skull in the form of tinnitus. My once dry eyes are soaked with moisture again and the hole in my chest is no more.

Gasping for air, I lift my head from the surface for a moment but I’m too weak to go any further, so I lay my head back down. Placing my hand on my chest, I can feel my heart working hard. Too hard, if I’m being honest. My hand bounces ever so slightly as my heart races to save my own life.

With my chest heaving and my heart beginning to calm, I roll to one side and climb to my feet. Once vertical, I tear open the chest of my uniform, feeling the old wound, long since mostly removed, over my heart and not the one left there by Corey Smith. Looking around in the darkness, a single ‘light’ flips on overhead. There is no physical light bulb, just… light.

Advancing forward, the light follows me and ahead, the light reflects off of a small shining object lying on the dirt surface. Reaching the object, I reach down to pick it up.

One of Harold Jenkins dog tags… bloodstained. Picking it up, I look at it a moment and place it in my pocket before continuing on this path. I thought the light was following me… instead… it’s leading me. Ahead, the light shines on another object. Jenkins’ other bloodstained dog tag. Like the first, I pick it up and slide it in my pocket.

Further up the path, a lit cigar with its cherry glowing red. Reaching it, I bend down to pick it up. Clearly I’m not sticking this in my pocket. Sticking it in my mouth and taking a puff, I travel further down the path.

Further still, another small shimmering object lies on the surface. Bending to pick it up: my grandfathers Illuminatus Iron Cross ring. Staring at it a moment, the realization hits me… each object is linked to memories I’d like to forget but never truly have. Memories of the boy that this man once was.

Next is a long object that I can’t quite make out until I’m almost right on it. My sword from the other time with ‘LeoCor’ (or Lionheart) etched and gilded on the blade. It floats in space and just as I touch the hilt, my fatigues are gone and in their place: the nickel and gold plated armor with its roaring lion heads on my shoulder plates from a time long since passed.

Sheathing my sword and moving further, the next object reminds me that not all memories are bad. Phobos stands in his glory beneath the light, staring at me. The all black brute of a warhorse with his black armor and all black saddle lets out a knowing snort of acknowledgment as I approach.

”Phobos,” I say with a smile as I stroke the length of his head. He steps forward, and turns, urging me to mount. Pulling his reigns toward me, he looks at me and leans his head down against mine before turning his body a little more. Relenting, I climb upon the warhorse. ”Alright boy,” I say with a pat on the side of his neck. ”Take me there.”

With a click of my spurs on his side, his powerful legs are set in motion. The light leads him further and faster for a few minutes until up ahead, armored knights stand on either side of two large wooden doors. As we near, Phobos slows before coming to a stop outside the doors. The two knights kneel with the points of their swords in the dirt.

”Your Grace,” the knight on the right says and I wave him to his feet. He reaches behind him and turns toward me, now holding a crimson colored cushion. On it: my crown. He approaches before kneeling again. Leaning over the side of Phobos, I retrieve the crown and spin it on my middle finger like a basketball before flipping it in one swift motion and placing it upon my head.

The two knights pull open the doors and Phobos strolls inside.

The castle throne room… from the other time.

Entering, a row of knights are on either side of the great hall with their swords out and pointed forward and upward. A dozen each, but all of them alternating between Andre Dixon and Chris Chaos. As Phobos and I make our way slowly from the entrance toward the vacant throne, the alternating Dixon and Chaos knights kneel, digging their sword tips into the cobblestone surface.

Reaching the foot of the throne steps, Phobos stops and I climb down. Looking back toward the entrance, the Dixon and Chaos knights are no more. Turning toward the throne, one Chaos and one Dixon knight have returned, flanking the throne in which I’ll sit.

Climbing the steps, something lies on the seat cushion: my German Luger pistol from yet another memory I’d prefer not to remember. Lifting it from the seat, I turn, sit and at once, Phobos kneels and bows his head. What a loyal beast.

With a click and a click of heels on the cobblestone, Doc enters the throne room. Coming to a stop beside Phobos who rises from his knees, Doc bends slightly at the hip in a bow with his hands clasped behind his back. I know he appears differently to others… but to me? Regardless of what version of himself he embodies, to me, he appears always as the creepy old man with the clean face and the slicked back gray hair.

”Your Grace,” he greets me.

”Your Highness,” I return the gesture.

”Powerful beast,” he says, eyeing Phobos a second.

”Not unlike the men we’re both staring at right now.”

D’Ville grins and advances up the steps toward me.

”Are you ready, Young Duke?”

Nodding quickly, ”Yes.”

”For months and months you’ve been resistant,” Doc begins. ”What’s changed?”

”A lot has changed,” I insist.

”For you?”

Vigorously, I shake my head.

”Rats are rats Louis,” I try to explain. ”I haven’t changed a single bit. But I can’t say the same thing for... everyone.”

He grins ever so slightly.

”Have you ever thought about just how unstoppable you’d be… if only… you’d embrace the darkness within you boy?”

”That’s one of very few things I fear, Louis.”

”It will hurt, you know?” he warns. ”If we follow through with what I’m planning for your session.”

”Lou I’ve lived my life in pain in one form or another,” I say as I stand to my feet and holster the Luger. Stepping forward coming face to face with him, ”I’m used to it.”

”Not this kind of pain,” he warns.

In an abundance of caution, I unstrap both my sword and my holster, tossing them back toward the throne. D’Ville looks at Chaos and Dixon and gives a nod. Stepping forward, each grabs a hold of either of my arms, then step on the inside of my knee, forcing me to my knees. Revealing his hands, D‘Ville reaches his gauntlet over and grips my skull. Instantly searing pain courses through my body and I grit my jaw, my muscles all turn rigid. The pain is unimaginable and I want to kill the man doing this to me. The pain fades in my body and concentrates in my left arm. Staring at it, the gauntlet emerges on my left hand.

At once, I break free of Chaos’s grip on my left arm and jump to my feet throwing a gauntlet punch at Dixon, knocking him unconscious. Chaos tries to grab hold of my arm again but I backhand him with the gauntlet and he too falls unconscious.

I stare forward at the grinning D’Ville as the pain subsides.

”How does it feel?” he asks but I don’t answer. ”Mirror, mirror,” he says and instantly a mirror appears before me.

I know who I am. I know that I’m not the man staring back at me, but I can’t shake the image.

In a fit of rage, I headbutt and shatter the mirror, yet the image remains.

[Image: k3BsIhL.jpg]
]]>


Floating nearly lifeless in the void, my thoughts on War Games and my career continue on. If this is it for me, if I’ve lived the dangerous life I live only to lose it because my best friend shot me in… a dream? An alternative reality? Then I die at peace with it all. I’ve always lived my life fast and on the edge because I just didn’t know when it’d all end so Alias can make his sorry little jokes about leading my nation 24/7 while I’m simultaneously doing other things. Just because I don’t show you everything, doesn’t mean things aren’t happening. If this is the end… I die happy, knowing I leave behind me a legacy of excellence that so few can match. I die knowing ,y life lives on in the lives of my children. I die knowing that someone loved me for something other than my big fucking.... bank account. I die knowing that I’ve escaped the shadows of those that came before me. I die knowing that I’ve done everything there is to do in the XWF. I die knowing that in only a month, I’ve left OCW in a much better, stronger place than I found it. Small, sure. Them signing me opened the floodgates and forced their hand. They have no choice but to grow stronger.

But... FUCKTHAD… right?

But for some reason Thad has a blind spot for someone that regularly fucks with his head... Remember that Corey...

If that name isn’t telling, I don’t know what is. Go on and admit that my image, my actions, my success lives in every single one of their heads… and excuse the overused cliché… rent free. It’s truly an honor that everything I am sticks in their sides like a fucking dagger. It’s an honor that no matter what titles they wear individually, no matter what they accomplish in their respective careers… none of it outshines the shine on me.

Alias tries and fails miserably at lambasting me for making mistakes in my personal life that I’m not proud of while dreaming? Or whatever… of my son holding my severed head. I’m such a horrible person because I succumbed to pleasures of the flesh while he desires my death… the hypocrisy would be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking disturbing and transparent.

I deliver death on my enemies because I have to, not because I want to. He dreams of mine, desires mine… because he’s a disturbed individual with an inferiority complex that he’s begun covering with arrogance and ego. Gee, I wonder where I’ve seen that before. Another Omegalomaniac.

That team spent time picking apart my team, hitting Dixon for his spotty appearances, my selection, only for one of theirs to not even show up. Andre Dixon has been spotty lately, but he showed up, didn’t he? And he’ll show up again because unlike some others, loyalty means maybe as much to him as it does me. Possibly even more.

Seems childish now doesn’t it? Railing against Dixon for his flightiness of late only for one of their own to… disappear at the last moment.

NorthKoreanWarCriminal thinks I have two BoB adjacent teammates. Maybe I do but here’s a little secret that isn’t much of a secret: I don’t have the hard on for BoB that so many others seem to have. The members of BoB do what they think is in their own best interest… and I don’t give a fuck.

Chaos?

Yeah we’ve had our differences and that’s no secret. But there was a time when he wasn’t a joke, when he wasn’t a laughing stock. There was a time when he was dominating the XWF. FUCKTHAD can make their immature little jokes all they want but it's not Chaos they’ll need to beat in order to advance.

Centurion, my best frienemy. Let me preface this by saying straight up, that I have no issues with Morbid bouncing and Centurion stepping in to take his place. The question I have though is: how does it feel Cent, to know management sees you on equal footing with someone like Morbid Angel? Someone I very easily could have waxed in the ring some weeks ago but chose not to because I’m… such a horrible person… I guess?

I haven’t had a new insult in three years? C’mon man… Insults aren’t even my bag. I’m not Bobby or TK dude, I don’t need to rely on juvenile nothing filled promos disguised as ‘shit talk’ to get by. I’m not who you think I am but coming off the bench the way you are, I’ll overlook your own stupidity for now.

Greatest to ever lace them though? Come on dude, despite your “championship” you’re not even the best competitor on the “C” show. But hey, at least we finally found a good reason for you to lose to me… amirite? Silver linings and all.

Estrada’s Angels? I’m sure no less than a dozen people have already asked it but why is that team named after the last draft pick Betsy had? And I fully expect Shawn Warstein to be dressed like a woman otherwise, the whole team name is just ridiculously lame. I’d talk more about them, but let’s be real… BoB is already popping champagne corks in victory because the Bastards are about to eat Warstein alive. I hate to say it because Betsy’s a sweetheart and I love her to death but… good night Angels.

Charlie’s Carnies? Filled with a whole lot of losses to yours truly. Charlie? 3 time loser. Main? Twice. Marf? See Main. Dolly Waters?

Fuck.

You're my sister from another mister and I love you to death but your own worst enemy has always been yourself and you never win that battle. You’re not even 20 yet and you’ve already had what? Two retirements? I’d say you’re like the second coming of Chris Page but I don’t want to knock Chris Page.

I hope it's different this time because as your friend and your brother, I want to see you win the big one.

Aww, my pal Jimmy Caedus calls me Thaddeus Fluke as if his whole re-emergence isn’t in and of itself a fluke. He calls me a whiny bitch that takes my ball and goes home while, one, I’ve been running roughshod over the XWF for more than a year and he himself… takes his conspiracy ball and goes home within six months of his comebacks almost without fail. How long has he been back? We’re about the halfway point aren’t we? I’m sure the conspiracy ball is already in flight, just waiting to hit him right in the chest.

And he talks about Dolly being unreliable?

Laugh.

My.

Ass.

Off.

I guess we all need a mental break every now and then, don’t we?

Your boy didn’t “let” me win, Jimmy. He lost because I’m better than he is. He lost because as you said, he’s living down to his Omega moniker just as I always live up to mine. And I liked your little Alpha Beats Omega analogy because Alpha is exactly what I’ve been since I’ve come back to this business and your boy learned it the hard way just like so many others have. Thanks for helping me out there Jimmy.

I’d remind you that I’m not the same guy you didn’t beat four years ago, but it's not like you’re making it past the Carnies anyway.

War Games.

Less games, more war.

It’s like the Civil War and we’re all just… turning on each other.


No longer floating through the void, I’ve begun free falling. My heart stopped beating, the blood stopped oozing from the wound in my chest. Dryness sets in on my eyeballs as I stare blankly and motionless toward the blank void above. Soon though, I land with a thud on a dirt surface and bounce upward before coming to rest again. On impact, the little remaining air in my lungs is knocked out. The ancient remnants of a past severe concussion rings through my skull in the form of tinnitus. My once dry eyes are soaked with moisture again and the hole in my chest is no more.

Gasping for air, I lift my head from the surface for a moment but I’m too weak to go any further, so I lay my head back down. Placing my hand on my chest, I can feel my heart working hard. Too hard, if I’m being honest. My hand bounces ever so slightly as my heart races to save my own life.

With my chest heaving and my heart beginning to calm, I roll to one side and climb to my feet. Once vertical, I tear open the chest of my uniform, feeling the old wound, long since mostly removed, over my heart and not the one left there by Corey Smith. Looking around in the darkness, a single ‘light’ flips on overhead. There is no physical light bulb, just… light.

Advancing forward, the light follows me and ahead, the light reflects off of a small shining object lying on the dirt surface. Reaching the object, I reach down to pick it up.

One of Harold Jenkins dog tags… bloodstained. Picking it up, I look at it a moment and place it in my pocket before continuing on this path. I thought the light was following me… instead… it’s leading me. Ahead, the light shines on another object. Jenkins’ other bloodstained dog tag. Like the first, I pick it up and slide it in my pocket.

Further up the path, a lit cigar with its cherry glowing red. Reaching it, I bend down to pick it up. Clearly I’m not sticking this in my pocket. Sticking it in my mouth and taking a puff, I travel further down the path.

Further still, another small shimmering object lies on the surface. Bending to pick it up: my grandfathers Illuminatus Iron Cross ring. Staring at it a moment, the realization hits me… each object is linked to memories I’d like to forget but never truly have. Memories of the boy that this man once was.

Next is a long object that I can’t quite make out until I’m almost right on it. My sword from the other time with ‘LeoCor’ (or Lionheart) etched and gilded on the blade. It floats in space and just as I touch the hilt, my fatigues are gone and in their place: the nickel and gold plated armor with its roaring lion heads on my shoulder plates from a time long since passed.

Sheathing my sword and moving further, the next object reminds me that not all memories are bad. Phobos stands in his glory beneath the light, staring at me. The all black brute of a warhorse with his black armor and all black saddle lets out a knowing snort of acknowledgment as I approach.

”Phobos,” I say with a smile as I stroke the length of his head. He steps forward, and turns, urging me to mount. Pulling his reigns toward me, he looks at me and leans his head down against mine before turning his body a little more. Relenting, I climb upon the warhorse. ”Alright boy,” I say with a pat on the side of his neck. ”Take me there.”

With a click of my spurs on his side, his powerful legs are set in motion. The light leads him further and faster for a few minutes until up ahead, armored knights stand on either side of two large wooden doors. As we near, Phobos slows before coming to a stop outside the doors. The two knights kneel with the points of their swords in the dirt.

”Your Grace,” the knight on the right says and I wave him to his feet. He reaches behind him and turns toward me, now holding a crimson colored cushion. On it: my crown. He approaches before kneeling again. Leaning over the side of Phobos, I retrieve the crown and spin it on my middle finger like a basketball before flipping it in one swift motion and placing it upon my head.

The two knights pull open the doors and Phobos strolls inside.

The castle throne room… from the other time.

Entering, a row of knights are on either side of the great hall with their swords out and pointed forward and upward. A dozen each, but all of them alternating between Andre Dixon and Chris Chaos. As Phobos and I make our way slowly from the entrance toward the vacant throne, the alternating Dixon and Chaos knights kneel, digging their sword tips into the cobblestone surface.

Reaching the foot of the throne steps, Phobos stops and I climb down. Looking back toward the entrance, the Dixon and Chaos knights are no more. Turning toward the throne, one Chaos and one Dixon knight have returned, flanking the throne in which I’ll sit.

Climbing the steps, something lies on the seat cushion: my German Luger pistol from yet another memory I’d prefer not to remember. Lifting it from the seat, I turn, sit and at once, Phobos kneels and bows his head. What a loyal beast.

With a click and a click of heels on the cobblestone, Doc enters the throne room. Coming to a stop beside Phobos who rises from his knees, Doc bends slightly at the hip in a bow with his hands clasped behind his back. I know he appears differently to others… but to me? Regardless of what version of himself he embodies, to me, he appears always as the creepy old man with the clean face and the slicked back gray hair.

”Your Grace,” he greets me.

”Your Highness,” I return the gesture.

”Powerful beast,” he says, eyeing Phobos a second.

”Not unlike the men we’re both staring at right now.”

D’Ville grins and advances up the steps toward me.

”Are you ready, Young Duke?”

Nodding quickly, ”Yes.”

”For months and months you’ve been resistant,” Doc begins. ”What’s changed?”

”A lot has changed,” I insist.

”For you?”

Vigorously, I shake my head.

”Rats are rats Louis,” I try to explain. ”I haven’t changed a single bit. But I can’t say the same thing for... everyone.”

He grins ever so slightly.

”Have you ever thought about just how unstoppable you’d be… if only… you’d embrace the darkness within you boy?”

”That’s one of very few things I fear, Louis.”

”It will hurt, you know?” he warns. ”If we follow through with what I’m planning for your session.”

”Lou I’ve lived my life in pain in one form or another,” I say as I stand to my feet and holster the Luger. Stepping forward coming face to face with him, ”I’m used to it.”

”Not this kind of pain,” he warns.

In an abundance of caution, I unstrap both my sword and my holster, tossing them back toward the throne. D’Ville looks at Chaos and Dixon and gives a nod. Stepping forward, each grabs a hold of either of my arms, then step on the inside of my knee, forcing me to my knees. Revealing his hands, D‘Ville reaches his gauntlet over and grips my skull. Instantly searing pain courses through my body and I grit my jaw, my muscles all turn rigid. The pain is unimaginable and I want to kill the man doing this to me. The pain fades in my body and concentrates in my left arm. Staring at it, the gauntlet emerges on my left hand.

At once, I break free of Chaos’s grip on my left arm and jump to my feet throwing a gauntlet punch at Dixon, knocking him unconscious. Chaos tries to grab hold of my arm again but I backhand him with the gauntlet and he too falls unconscious.

I stare forward at the grinning D’Ville as the pain subsides.

”How does it feel?” he asks but I don’t answer. ”Mirror, mirror,” he says and instantly a mirror appears before me.

I know who I am. I know that I’m not the man staring back at me, but I can’t shake the image.

In a fit of rage, I headbutt and shatter the mirror, yet the image remains.

[Image: k3BsIhL.jpg]
]]> <![CDATA[THE BOB TEAM - BONUS SCENES]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41522 Sat, 31 Jul 2021 20:32:40 -0700 Miss Fury]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41522 [bwo][/bwo]


[bwo]CREDITS!

MISS FURY - HERSELF

BOBBY BOURBON - HIMSELF

THUNDER KNUCKLES - HIMSELF

BIG MONEY OSWALD - HIMSELF[/bwo]


A phone rings out as the scene fades in, interrupting the end credits.















(February 19th, 2021)










We pull back from the phone as a hand reaches down to answer. As we zoom out, we see Johnny sitting in his office at the BOB training facility. He places the phone to his ear.

[color=#800000]"It’s time. I need you to meet me in Grand Forks, North Dakota on Tuesday, understand?”

Understood.

The line goes dead and Johnny hangs up the phone. He lets out a sigh and stands up and opens a locker where he digs a gym back out of the back. He tosses it on the desk and unzips it, spreading it open to reveal a black and yellow karate gee with a fist punching a chicken printed on it’s back. He pulls out a black headband and looks it over reluctantly. He ties it around his head and throws a punch.




















[bwo][Image: William-Zabka-Cobra-kai-618x400.jpg][/bwo]


BOOM! COCK-PUNCH!


The scene fades back to the credits.






[bwo]CREDITS!

JOHNNY - COCK PUNCHER[/bwo]


[Image: BOBline.png]


[bwo][/bwo]


“Ladies and gentleman, I, as you know, am Oswald Autem Sephtis. Owner and CEO of so many other companies underneath the Ozzymandias Inc. umbrella. And you know Miss Fury, one of the big brains behind our success, and one of the most dominant women in XWF! Then these men need no goddamn introduction, but here I go anyway: Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Motherfuckin’ BOURBON! TK and Bobby, tag champs of two different companies, showing the dominance of the tag teams in the XWF. And on top of that, Bobby is your reigning and defending TELEVISION CHAMPION!

We are TEAM BOB and we have come here to fuck shit up and destroy your teams. I’ve said it time and time again, and I’ll reiterate this point for a reason: You and you and you and you and you.”

“You five ignorant, blind idiots, have no idea the superpower you let loose. Seriously, for all the people on the opposing teams, their captains? Bunch of imbeciles. Get this. Fury? Near the back end of the line and got to not only pick up Them No Good Bastards, even though you had ample time to break them apart, but I was on a roll in this company. I became Star of the Month, I DEFEATED one of the damn captains in Dick Powers. So tell me, why would you let me stay with the core of BOB? Why would you not want this-”

He shows off his flashy suit and then fixes his tie

“Monster... this absolute breaker of bones and nearly unstoppable beast. You knew what was happening. Mr. Last Pick decided ‘Hmmm, BOB is almost the full original group. I’ll pick Ned Kaye instead of the God of Fates and Destruction.

You saw an absolute breaker of Captains and decided to not draft him. You saw The Bastards, and didn’t try to break them apart. You let Fury basically give you the entirety of the XWF one of the biggest L’s in this company's history. Because of what? Oh, I know exactly what caused your losses.

Ignorance and stupidity. Just as Fury has said time and again. We get away with what we want because YOU people LET US! Well, now we grow tired of this game! Let War Games stand as a lesson to you feeble minded fools! You think that Miss Fury doesn’t know what she’s doing by inciting you all so?

You’re wrong.

And we welcome the challenge, but it’s already too late for you at War Games! You goofed by allowing the established to be, then you all fumbled whatever chance you may have had by failing to work as a team. Just. Like. We. Knew. You. Would.

It’s simple, really. You just can’t develop a bond like ours out of nothing. Unlike all of you, who think of nothing but yourselves, we have a connection that runs deep and serves to remind us why we do what we do! We are the forgotten! The tossed aside and ignored! Before BOB, none of you gave two shits about me! I was nothing but a constant joke played for the amusement of Vinnie Lane! That is, until I stole back the narrative and ripped the cheap wig off of Lane’s bald head! Now I’m The Billion Dollar champion, and come the post War Games Anarchy, I will be your ANARCHY CHAMPION as well!

Then there’s TK! What was TK, other than a running gag who was known only for his immense love of X-bux, and willingness to lay down for the right price? Or what of Bobby Bourbon? Forgotten, washed up, considered a general non threat, DESPITE his reign as Warfare MVP! That lack of respect, along with the considerable offer from Miss Fury, would lead to the creation of what you all continue to claim isn’t the hottest tag team in XWF history, but also fail to prove them wrong!

The four of us, we are BOB, THE BOB, and even this late into the game, and with you facing your ultimate failure, most of you still refuse to admit the challenge laid out in front of you! Shawn Warstein will not make the difference. Whomever survives to the end, YOU WILL FACE A VERY STRONG BOB TEAM!

This is why you will all lose and BOB will reign victorious.

When one BOB wins, we ALL win, we will ALL win, and there’s not a goddamn thing any of you can do about that.”

You allowed BOB to grow into the powerhouse that we are today, and why? Because none of you had the initiative to actually look outside of your own worlds to see the monster growing around you! When the dust settles on the battlefield and the survivors that BOB allows to live sulk home to tend to the wounds, they can remember that they have only THEMSELVES to blame. In 2019 the world was warned. BOB IS COMING. Nobody cared. In 2020 we framed and jailed the XWF’s beloved reformed bad girl, and still, the universe charged on as if nothing had happened. As we began to collect your belts, our names suddenly held enough merit to utter, but always in passing, or as part of some lame joke. Always writing us off for the cartoonish villains that we portray. In 2021, the jokes were exchanged for jealousy. The Bastard’s have wrecked everyone that was placed in their path, here and elsewhere, and not one team has posed any serious threat to this day!

That includes any of the War Games teams! Corey? Duke? Who cares? Let them kill each other and we’ll pick off whatever foul creature slithers into the main event! The Nickleman? Dirty Dick? Another case of two teams with bitter rivals, and another team that, no matter which advances, they will most assuredly advance a man or two down! Caedus and Main? Oh, the heat between those two! So much for the Ape in Ape-Leg. Not that Ape-Leg ever had a Leg to stand on! Welcome back, Shawn! It’s time for another round of duck, duck, EGO! Of course, you come out of the gate ready to take BOB down single handedly! Always the star in your own mind! That’s exactly why as a team, we do NOT fear you Shawn Warstein! We don’t need an evil plan, a crooked referee, or control over the books for the four of us to step into the ring on Sunday night and completely tear Estrada’s Angels down to its very last survivor, and oh how I hope Betsy saves her big gun for last! You say that it’ll take an army to put down Shawn Warstein? Good, I just so happen to have one! Good thinking to get that excuse out in the forefront after seeing the writing on the wall of the dumpster fire that you got roped into. Teamwork from that side? Unlikely at best! Reggie’s fucking off and doing his own thing, which is aiming to keep his head low and his words soft in hopes that BOB doesn’t leave him a bloody pulp at War Games! Atara suffered enough embarrassment on Savage, and while childishly blaming BOB for her failures, she’s still wise enough to realize the beating she was in store for, so she fucked off. Lycana? Thoroughly covered already, and she has given me no reason to revisit the topic. Betsy? You could see it in her eyes. The childlike wonder in her eyes as she listened to Warstein go off on his ego-fueled rant where he wouldn’t let the poor woman hardly get a word in without shushing her. Funny how Betsy’s Team seemed more like Reggie’s team in the naming, but at the end of the day, it turns out it’s actually Shawn Warstein’s team! She has all of her hopes placed in Warstein, pretty much admitting to the world that she thinks herself shit compared to him. That really sucks too, because while Warstein is a decent enough wrestler, he’s not “good” by any means, as already pointed out in spectacular fashion!

I must admit, I do so think I shall enjoy watching as this team continues to fall apart at the seems now that it’s under the crushing weight of Shawn’s ego. That’s actually far more entertaining than just waiting to see which of you “Angels” were going to stab the other in the back first. I was banking on Atara by the way, so congratulations on the upgrade in both PRE and POST match entertainment!

But you’re all STILL losing!

Oswald and Fury begin laughing maniacally as we cut to an advert!

[bwo]We see Bobby and TK standing in an average, run of the mill kitchen, which is to say in a regular television commercial kitchen. Ad space for War Games? Yep. So, standing at the center island in this cathedral of a kitchen, which is way, way bigger than the average American kitchen, is Bobby along with TK.

Hi, I’m Bobby Bourbon, champion of all television.

And I’m Thunder Knuckles, a former two time champion of all television.

Together, we’re champions of all tag team wrestling. But we know great television. From hits like the BOB Team, Bob’s Island, and Porky’s 2, we know what TV is all about, as such, we’re proud to tell you about Hungry Bastard.

Hungry Bastard is the best TV dinner, fit for TV champions, TV challengers, TV citizens, TV doctors, and even TV fans.

That’s Right, TK. Made from the finest blend of separated meats, some kind of starch, and sauces, you’ll be living like a champ in minutes after you take this frozen tray of foodstuff-like items and throw it in a microwave for a short amount of time.

It’s better than prison food!

Hungry Bastard, for the Hungriest Bastards.

Even
Alias
would
be
full
after
eating
one.

Eat
me!
[/bwo]

We catch up with TNGB on the road!

Centurion, now that’s a sad mother fucker isn’t he? What’s the fucking point old man? Even this clueless fuck knows he’s lost. Moving the fuck on.

Yo, TK, did you see that amazing Warstein promo?

It was goddamn noir, as fuck, bro, shot in black and white. With a guy so fucking famous you think he’s at least swing for technocolor. Shouldn’t expect much from a guy who “only shows up cause their asked”.

Shit. I’ve seen more fire come out of a dead Bic. The dude is a lush, focused on getting his dick wet. Just like Peter was. Jesus, what a fucking shit Gilmour clone. Did you catch that bullshit about him thinking he’s going to win off of getting shithoused? Wait, hold on, no matter what, he wins, because even if he loses, he wins? I reckon that was the booze talking, because that’s about as coherent as a coloring book after a toddler got its hands on it. Maybe a Superman one. And bang down the door? Yikes. We just had to wait for you to want to seem relevant again, probably because you had a hissy with whatever company you were with, and you came slinking back, hat, not crown, since you were gracious enough to lose the King of the Ring tournament for the benefit of all and surprise of none, but hat in hand. Oh, yeah, you're talking to the guys who opened the door for OCW and the XWF to cross-promote. They're having a little tourney to see who faces us, but you got lost sticking your head up your own ass trying to blow yourself. To the point, Betsy, tsk tsk, you should have gotten an actual toddler instead of that schlub. He’s not a shell of his former self, that’s just himself! Christ almighty, he has done himself a bother, girl! Win-win my hairy white ass. This isn’t some deep metathinking thing going on, this is bloodsport in the fucking ring, and him getting chucked through a cage while three other people had his back isn’t winning. Him getting pinned isn’t victory by any fucking stretch. I guess we could do the math and talk about option three, where his balls drop and finishes puberty. We could talk about option four, where space men come from Alpha Centauri and show us all how basket weaving is done in the icy cold of space. We could talk about option five, where we all undergo a case of SMEF…

Is that contagious?

It's a sudden mass existence failure.

What the fuck is that?

It’s fun sci-fi, but nevermind. We could talk about options all the way to three-billion-seven-hundred-and-forty-three-million-three-hundred-and-sixty-nine-thousand-four-hundred-and-twenty.

Nice.

Thanks. There’s going to be only one result. It’s not a win for Shawn. It’s not a victory. It’s certainly not vindication. It’s him getting his ass whooped for all existence to see, and then if he wants to say the deck was stacked against him, and I agree, it is, he's on a shitty team, so I guess he could blame his cohorts and say he didn't have the back-up he needed, but we already knew Noah and Raven burned themselves out carrying his dead weight around from place to place. But if he wants to say it took an effort to take him out, well, Shawn, it's no sweat. We get it, you did all these things before everybody, like watch the wheel get invented, practice irrigation techniques, write a bitch session on papyrus, blah blah blah, you had your first match while they were building the lost catacombs in Egypt, and you walked uphill both ways through two feet of snow to get there. Hey, TK, how much you wanna bet we go from being muted to blocked on Twitter?

No Bet.

Well, no real loss, I can find plenty of young women who will harp about their crushes and act like divas, they’re a dime a dozen. You're like chicken wings, easy pickins, but should we offer for him to come and right whatever wrong happened, to prove he's actually legendary, he'll have an excuse. Make sure your parents sign your note for not dressing for gym class. Shit, he’ll still manage to be a bigger pussy than…

Bobby stops.

Who has a really large vagina?

Shawn Warstein. I mean, he’s always trying to talk about getting his dick wet. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles isn't that guy. Warstein’s the kinda guy who finds these bitches online and fills their head full of fucking nonsence. Makes them believe he’s some great goddamn athlete because he travels around. Reality will kick him in the fucking GAPING PUSSY at War Games. I can goddamn well promise you that.

Yeah, but who’s bigger?

Warstein’s after we’re done with it!

Oh! Ya know, that just makes me think of Alias and Corey.

Ugh, blown out pussy does?

Yeah, I reckon. Anyhow, Alias says nobody is talking about the draft, then Corey says that the people who are, aren’t, what did he say, canon? Fucking christ, the fanbase of the XWF means nothing to these assholes, and Alias wonders why I call him a bullshit, paper champion when he dismisses the fans. Corey, well, he knew better than to let my name come out of his mouth, considering that he and Thad are two peas and the same pod; under my ownership, lock, stock, and barrel. Kinda cute if he thinks his big, strong, handsome manly-man of a sham of a champ is going to step up and keep him snug and safe. Alias isn’t some spoopy nonsense, he’s about as frightening as Halloween decorations in April; which is to say he’s more just sad than anything else. Oh, and it looks like Robert Main went full Halloween mode and dressed up like Eli James then referred to himself in the third person a whole metric fuckton to scare Caedus. Caedus still sounds like a guy who got kicked out of an AA meeting. Dolly and Charlie are running a fucking leftover Halloween decor carnival. For the love of fuck, this is War Games, not Halloween 2, and speaking of, if anybody is the masked maniac Michael Meyers, well, fuck, it’d be me boyos! Someone explain the pop culture reference I just made to North Korean War Criminal. Oh, and don’t act like I don’t forget you. I remember the war we had for the Federweight Championship, chingu...

Bobby looks at TK.

Which means ‘friend’ to you and me.

Ah.

TK nods as Bobby turns back to watch the road.

You’re absolutely right about one thing, Mr. War Criminal, and that is the most obvious, understated, but overly understood thing the whole XWF Universe knew going into War Games. Chris Chaos sucks at cutting promos and has a dumb sense of humor. Dolly and Charlie, well, you guys are doing great work together. Just like a pair of rats near a dumpster behind the local dive bar, you’re digging through all the trash and finding Caedus, which must stink. Woah, sorry, sorry, people actually like rats and would buy one. You guys are just two bags of garbage that didn’t fit in the bin, but at least you’re shaped like rats. Whoo-ee, and what a shape that is. Charlie looks like he wouldn’t understand what to do in a gym, and Dolly looks like she couldn’t use any of the equipment if she even tried. Guys, take it from me, start slow, and start small. Don’t go in there trying to lift heavy like Them No Good Bastards. We’ve been banging and clanging for a while, and pushing weight like Girl Scouts push those amazing, wonderful, and delicious cookies. Then we comes to the old man hisself…

Himself.

TK grins from ear to ear, having corrected someone for a change. He sips from his can of Bud Light. Bobby smirks.

That’s what I said.

Gimme a second with these two fucks before you move on Bobby. Charlie’s Carnies are all over the fucking place aren’t they. Never really know who to talk about. Fucking lost in the breeze, if only the could take all that hot air and make something of it. Then they’d be a threat, but no, they’d rather piss it all away just like Muddy did to his liver. Somebody better call a goddamn doctor and have them on stand by cause Charlie’s Carnies are in fucking trouble. If their money is banking on Robert Main. They are fucking shortsighted. Robert spent so much goddamn time avoiding talking about Caedus. To that being the only thing he could fucking talk about. That’s fucking weakness and BOB exploits weakness. Robert Main’s weakness is his goddamn friends. He’s a gullible goddamn idiot that bumbles around until his head gets caved in and he dips out. That is who the fuck Robert Main is. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles got his ass if he makes it to the Main Event. Bet your fucking last xbux on it.

Speaking of Doctors… What's up, Doc? You know, I'm not going to be like all the other dimwits out there. You are still a King. Now, I don't get why you stopped acting like one just because everybody said you weren't because you lost one match to Alias, but that's your weird little prerogative. What I do remember, though, is one of the big time XWF fans, one of hundreds that me and TK run into weekly, asked me if TK was a better partner than Trax.

You never partnered with Demos.

No, bro, Trax, not Thrax.

Never heard of him.

I think he’s alright with that. Anyhow, one of the XWF loyalists asked about a match where I partnered with Trax and we beat you and an entitled rich boy from New York. I had to think for a minute, but I remembered that yes, you couldn't pull Donald Trump to a win, and by proxy, you're not bringing Thad out ahead of BOB!.

Bobby looks somewhat distressed.

Fuck it, TK, I am getting pissed, and now I can't stop thinking about Thin Mints. I gotta focus on the road and not get road rage.


[bwo]We segue into a new scene of a busy gym, some kind of class is being taught en masse to a bunch of women in sports bras and yoga pants. We fast cut to see a woman using some kind of plastic box of a boondoggle to step up and down on.

Life can come at you hard and fast.

We see a woman in a bathing suit at the top of a high dive. She takes a deep, focused breath as she prepares to jump into the water below as fancy as she can because, well, we commend that as a species to the point it’s an Olympic event. Falling in water and not drowning.

You can come harder and faster than life.

We see a woman standing in line at a grocery store. A man approaches her and says something. She spins and spits in his face.

Jesus, are you on your period or something?

Yes, and I’m furious!

She holds up an item from the conveyor belt that’s bringing the items she intends to buy to the soul-drained drone in a smock scanning stuff with lasers. Wanna work with lasers? Go into retail. Anyhow, she holds up a package of tampons, the brand just reads Furious. There’s a picture of Miss Fury on the package..

Furious, a tampon that's so absorbent that It can control even a Corey-sized mess!
[/bwo]


We catch up with the festivities at the grounds of War Games. A massive campsite is set up, almost a festival unto itself, adorned with banners with the BOB logo, thousands of BOB fans all in attendance to watch their team win War Games indecisive and historic fashion. Oswald flashes into the scene having teleported through a portal, and the fans in attendance go wild. Oswald looks around, raises his arms, and opens a bevy of portals above, raining dollar bills and assorted treats on the crowd, almost replicating a pinata’s results. The crowd chants.

*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*

As he does this, Bobby and TK, Them No Good Bastards, roll into the campsite in their signature stretch red Humvee limousine. The doors of the rear open and Elon Musk, Post Malone, Drew Carey, Keanu Reeves, Seth Rogan and Chris Rock all walk out, bedecked in their BOB t-shirts as the crowd cheers. The thunderous reaction amplifies as Bobby steps out of the driver’s seat and TK steps out of the shotgun seat. They both clack both pairs of their tag team championship belts and hold them up, and we see the Television Championship is actually set up as a hood ornament on the vehicle. The crowd chants in accordance.

*ASSHOLE!*DIRTBAG!*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*

As this happens, a jet black helicopter touches down in the field with the BOB logo on the side. Big Puddin’, Diesel, and Chris Page all step out. Page raises both fists as the crowd goes absolutely wild.

*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*

Miss Fury steps out shortly after.

*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*

Miss Fury looks absolutely gobsmacked by the reaction. Bobby steps up and stands next to her.

Hello, everybody! Whoa!

Bobby raises Fury’s hand.

Miss Fury, would you please? The heart of BOB.

Miss Fury waves.

Thank you. They love you. They love you here.

Oswald, Bobby, TK, and Miss Fury all meet up. Oswald sticks his hand out, Bobby places his flat on top of Oswald’s. TK places his atop Bobby’s. Fury finishes the stack by placing a black leather gloved hand on top of TK’s.

They wanna play fucking rough? Well then. Goddamn it, Let’s play rough!

The crowd is going bananas for all of this. A group of stunning young women, completely nude, approach the group. Big Puddin’ licks his chops. Chris Rock and Post Malone look taken aback. Bobby and TK just kind of stare as Oswald smirks in approval. Miss Fury looks somewhat confused.

Uh, hi?

One of the girls steps forward.

“We saw it all on Twitter.”

Saw what?

Another girl, bubbly in nature and smiling, speaks up.

“We’re here to fuck BOB.”

Yo!

TK raises a finger to the sky and walks over to the group of girls. Bobby shakes his head and glances at Ozzy, gesturing towards the girls.

I’m a fighter, not a lover.

”I mean… I'm married”

They want a piece of you, big man.

Oswald bashfully walks over and is immediately grabbed by three of the girls.

”Sorry ladies, I'm married. Unless you don’t mind waiting for my wife to join.”

Don’t worry bitches, I got this.

TK meanders off with the smoking hot girls. Miss Fury looks at Bobby.

How did this happen?

Well, we’re BOB, the biggest fucking thing in wrestling. You think Alias has this kind of fanbase? Doc? We appeal to the wild crowd who wants the ruckus, not the mopey and dopey!

But, what do we do with all these people?

A huge box truck pulls up, and behind the wheel is Barney Green.

You know that drug cartel we have now? I’d say we’ve got business to attend to.

Miss Fury looks on the verge of tears of joy.

Are you saying we use these people to mule our dope into the country?

No, I’m saying let’s have a little fun.

How isn’t my idea fun?

Bobby smirks, thinking that Fury’s evil naivety was almost cute. He then turns his attention to the group of protesters from the Westboro Baptist Church who are seen arriving, with malice and hate in their hearts for the happenings at the BOB area of War Games. Signs reading some of the most vulgar and hateful slogans ever imagined, least of all associated with a church, are seen, and the fun-loving BOBsters who have congregated to party at War Games look disgusted. A group of Q-Anon supporters also seem to be arriving, holding upside-down American flags and bedecked in Trump memorabilia. Bobby cracks his knuckles.

Oh, I ordered out. Call it a little light training.

Bobby pulls out his phone and fuddles around with it, then shows Miss Fury the screen. It seems to be a post from Parlor, where an account going by the name R. J. Booze has instilled the need for a presence here today. He hands it to Miss Fury as Bobby grits his teeth, grinning wide. He charges at the congregation of Q-Anons with a bloodthirsty roar as the crowd goes absolutely wild. Barney hops out of the box truck.

Is he beating up Q-Anons?

Miss Fury nods.

He’s a national treasure. Well, your drugs are here, go sell them.

Miss Fury looks at Barney.

What are you going to do?

A few more naked women approach Barney. He looks at Fury and gives her a thumbs up, then Barney walks off with the girls. Fury is standing by herself when all of a sudden THE NOID appears again.

[bwo][Image: 122.gif][/bwo]


We're not doing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bit what are you doing Jimmy?

Jimmy comes off his pogo stick and tosses it to the side.

I'm here to make things clear that THE NOID knows what these Teams are lacking.

Jimmy places photographs of the faces of the team captains on the ground in front of him. He then pulls out a new and improved pogo stick.


[bwo][Image: WGCRUSHER.jpg][/bwo]


First up, Team Betsy, AKA Reggie's Angels.

Jimmy bounces the pogo stick off the face of Betsy.

No real team identity and it only got worse as Shawn entered. Taking over the show. Pathetic.

The camera swings back over to the picture of Betsy that now has "KIA" stamped onto it.

Team Duke, AKA Discontinuum.

Jimmy again bounces but this time on the picture of Duke.

Cowards.

The camera shows Duke with the same "KIA" on it.

Team Dick, AKA ACocKalypse Now.

Jimmy bounces onto the picture of Powers.

No heart.

"KIA" is stamped onto Dick's forehead.

Team Corey, AKA F.U.C.K.T.H.A.D.

This time Jimmy bounces on his Ware Games crusher pogo stick with gusto.

Handcuffed themselves at the outset. Corey has a problem with the team environment setting. This time he at least tried to course-correct but in the end, it won't be enough. Sorry, bud.

The "KIA" on Corey's picture covers his mouth.

Team Charlie, AKA Charlie's Carnies.

Jimmy does a flip landing on Charlie's picture and lands on it twice

Work as well together as motor oil and water. Sure, it looks cool at first, but really it's just a mess that kitty litter has to sop up, then shoveled, and thrown away.

"KIA" doesn't appear on Charlie's picture but instead the eyes are ripped out.

The Noid is winning War Games because if one BOB wins, we all win.

THE END MOTHERFUCKER!


[Image: CGpA9vP.png]
]]> [bwo][/bwo]


[bwo]CREDITS!

MISS FURY - HERSELF

BOBBY BOURBON - HIMSELF

THUNDER KNUCKLES - HIMSELF

BIG MONEY OSWALD - HIMSELF[/bwo]


A phone rings out as the scene fades in, interrupting the end credits.















(February 19th, 2021)










We pull back from the phone as a hand reaches down to answer. As we zoom out, we see Johnny sitting in his office at the BOB training facility. He places the phone to his ear.

[color=#800000]"It’s time. I need you to meet me in Grand Forks, North Dakota on Tuesday, understand?”

Understood.

The line goes dead and Johnny hangs up the phone. He lets out a sigh and stands up and opens a locker where he digs a gym back out of the back. He tosses it on the desk and unzips it, spreading it open to reveal a black and yellow karate gee with a fist punching a chicken printed on it’s back. He pulls out a black headband and looks it over reluctantly. He ties it around his head and throws a punch.




















[bwo][Image: William-Zabka-Cobra-kai-618x400.jpg][/bwo]


BOOM! COCK-PUNCH!


The scene fades back to the credits.






[bwo]CREDITS!

JOHNNY - COCK PUNCHER[/bwo]


[Image: BOBline.png]


[bwo][/bwo]


“Ladies and gentleman, I, as you know, am Oswald Autem Sephtis. Owner and CEO of so many other companies underneath the Ozzymandias Inc. umbrella. And you know Miss Fury, one of the big brains behind our success, and one of the most dominant women in XWF! Then these men need no goddamn introduction, but here I go anyway: Thunder Knuckles and Bobby Motherfuckin’ BOURBON! TK and Bobby, tag champs of two different companies, showing the dominance of the tag teams in the XWF. And on top of that, Bobby is your reigning and defending TELEVISION CHAMPION!

We are TEAM BOB and we have come here to fuck shit up and destroy your teams. I’ve said it time and time again, and I’ll reiterate this point for a reason: You and you and you and you and you.”

“You five ignorant, blind idiots, have no idea the superpower you let loose. Seriously, for all the people on the opposing teams, their captains? Bunch of imbeciles. Get this. Fury? Near the back end of the line and got to not only pick up Them No Good Bastards, even though you had ample time to break them apart, but I was on a roll in this company. I became Star of the Month, I DEFEATED one of the damn captains in Dick Powers. So tell me, why would you let me stay with the core of BOB? Why would you not want this-”

He shows off his flashy suit and then fixes his tie

“Monster... this absolute breaker of bones and nearly unstoppable beast. You knew what was happening. Mr. Last Pick decided ‘Hmmm, BOB is almost the full original group. I’ll pick Ned Kaye instead of the God of Fates and Destruction.

You saw an absolute breaker of Captains and decided to not draft him. You saw The Bastards, and didn’t try to break them apart. You let Fury basically give you the entirety of the XWF one of the biggest L’s in this company's history. Because of what? Oh, I know exactly what caused your losses.

Ignorance and stupidity. Just as Fury has said time and again. We get away with what we want because YOU people LET US! Well, now we grow tired of this game! Let War Games stand as a lesson to you feeble minded fools! You think that Miss Fury doesn’t know what she’s doing by inciting you all so?

You’re wrong.

And we welcome the challenge, but it’s already too late for you at War Games! You goofed by allowing the established to be, then you all fumbled whatever chance you may have had by failing to work as a team. Just. Like. We. Knew. You. Would.

It’s simple, really. You just can’t develop a bond like ours out of nothing. Unlike all of you, who think of nothing but yourselves, we have a connection that runs deep and serves to remind us why we do what we do! We are the forgotten! The tossed aside and ignored! Before BOB, none of you gave two shits about me! I was nothing but a constant joke played for the amusement of Vinnie Lane! That is, until I stole back the narrative and ripped the cheap wig off of Lane’s bald head! Now I’m The Billion Dollar champion, and come the post War Games Anarchy, I will be your ANARCHY CHAMPION as well!

Then there’s TK! What was TK, other than a running gag who was known only for his immense love of X-bux, and willingness to lay down for the right price? Or what of Bobby Bourbon? Forgotten, washed up, considered a general non threat, DESPITE his reign as Warfare MVP! That lack of respect, along with the considerable offer from Miss Fury, would lead to the creation of what you all continue to claim isn’t the hottest tag team in XWF history, but also fail to prove them wrong!

The four of us, we are BOB, THE BOB, and even this late into the game, and with you facing your ultimate failure, most of you still refuse to admit the challenge laid out in front of you! Shawn Warstein will not make the difference. Whomever survives to the end, YOU WILL FACE A VERY STRONG BOB TEAM!

This is why you will all lose and BOB will reign victorious.

When one BOB wins, we ALL win, we will ALL win, and there’s not a goddamn thing any of you can do about that.”

You allowed BOB to grow into the powerhouse that we are today, and why? Because none of you had the initiative to actually look outside of your own worlds to see the monster growing around you! When the dust settles on the battlefield and the survivors that BOB allows to live sulk home to tend to the wounds, they can remember that they have only THEMSELVES to blame. In 2019 the world was warned. BOB IS COMING. Nobody cared. In 2020 we framed and jailed the XWF’s beloved reformed bad girl, and still, the universe charged on as if nothing had happened. As we began to collect your belts, our names suddenly held enough merit to utter, but always in passing, or as part of some lame joke. Always writing us off for the cartoonish villains that we portray. In 2021, the jokes were exchanged for jealousy. The Bastard’s have wrecked everyone that was placed in their path, here and elsewhere, and not one team has posed any serious threat to this day!

That includes any of the War Games teams! Corey? Duke? Who cares? Let them kill each other and we’ll pick off whatever foul creature slithers into the main event! The Nickleman? Dirty Dick? Another case of two teams with bitter rivals, and another team that, no matter which advances, they will most assuredly advance a man or two down! Caedus and Main? Oh, the heat between those two! So much for the Ape in Ape-Leg. Not that Ape-Leg ever had a Leg to stand on! Welcome back, Shawn! It’s time for another round of duck, duck, EGO! Of course, you come out of the gate ready to take BOB down single handedly! Always the star in your own mind! That’s exactly why as a team, we do NOT fear you Shawn Warstein! We don’t need an evil plan, a crooked referee, or control over the books for the four of us to step into the ring on Sunday night and completely tear Estrada’s Angels down to its very last survivor, and oh how I hope Betsy saves her big gun for last! You say that it’ll take an army to put down Shawn Warstein? Good, I just so happen to have one! Good thinking to get that excuse out in the forefront after seeing the writing on the wall of the dumpster fire that you got roped into. Teamwork from that side? Unlikely at best! Reggie’s fucking off and doing his own thing, which is aiming to keep his head low and his words soft in hopes that BOB doesn’t leave him a bloody pulp at War Games! Atara suffered enough embarrassment on Savage, and while childishly blaming BOB for her failures, she’s still wise enough to realize the beating she was in store for, so she fucked off. Lycana? Thoroughly covered already, and she has given me no reason to revisit the topic. Betsy? You could see it in her eyes. The childlike wonder in her eyes as she listened to Warstein go off on his ego-fueled rant where he wouldn’t let the poor woman hardly get a word in without shushing her. Funny how Betsy’s Team seemed more like Reggie’s team in the naming, but at the end of the day, it turns out it’s actually Shawn Warstein’s team! She has all of her hopes placed in Warstein, pretty much admitting to the world that she thinks herself shit compared to him. That really sucks too, because while Warstein is a decent enough wrestler, he’s not “good” by any means, as already pointed out in spectacular fashion!

I must admit, I do so think I shall enjoy watching as this team continues to fall apart at the seems now that it’s under the crushing weight of Shawn’s ego. That’s actually far more entertaining than just waiting to see which of you “Angels” were going to stab the other in the back first. I was banking on Atara by the way, so congratulations on the upgrade in both PRE and POST match entertainment!

But you’re all STILL losing!

Oswald and Fury begin laughing maniacally as we cut to an advert!

[bwo]We see Bobby and TK standing in an average, run of the mill kitchen, which is to say in a regular television commercial kitchen. Ad space for War Games? Yep. So, standing at the center island in this cathedral of a kitchen, which is way, way bigger than the average American kitchen, is Bobby along with TK.

Hi, I’m Bobby Bourbon, champion of all television.

And I’m Thunder Knuckles, a former two time champion of all television.

Together, we’re champions of all tag team wrestling. But we know great television. From hits like the BOB Team, Bob’s Island, and Porky’s 2, we know what TV is all about, as such, we’re proud to tell you about Hungry Bastard.

Hungry Bastard is the best TV dinner, fit for TV champions, TV challengers, TV citizens, TV doctors, and even TV fans.

That’s Right, TK. Made from the finest blend of separated meats, some kind of starch, and sauces, you’ll be living like a champ in minutes after you take this frozen tray of foodstuff-like items and throw it in a microwave for a short amount of time.

It’s better than prison food!

Hungry Bastard, for the Hungriest Bastards.

Even
Alias
would
be
full
after
eating
one.

Eat
me!
[/bwo]

We catch up with TNGB on the road!

Centurion, now that’s a sad mother fucker isn’t he? What’s the fucking point old man? Even this clueless fuck knows he’s lost. Moving the fuck on.

Yo, TK, did you see that amazing Warstein promo?

It was goddamn noir, as fuck, bro, shot in black and white. With a guy so fucking famous you think he’s at least swing for technocolor. Shouldn’t expect much from a guy who “only shows up cause their asked”.

Shit. I’ve seen more fire come out of a dead Bic. The dude is a lush, focused on getting his dick wet. Just like Peter was. Jesus, what a fucking shit Gilmour clone. Did you catch that bullshit about him thinking he’s going to win off of getting shithoused? Wait, hold on, no matter what, he wins, because even if he loses, he wins? I reckon that was the booze talking, because that’s about as coherent as a coloring book after a toddler got its hands on it. Maybe a Superman one. And bang down the door? Yikes. We just had to wait for you to want to seem relevant again, probably because you had a hissy with whatever company you were with, and you came slinking back, hat, not crown, since you were gracious enough to lose the King of the Ring tournament for the benefit of all and surprise of none, but hat in hand. Oh, yeah, you're talking to the guys who opened the door for OCW and the XWF to cross-promote. They're having a little tourney to see who faces us, but you got lost sticking your head up your own ass trying to blow yourself. To the point, Betsy, tsk tsk, you should have gotten an actual toddler instead of that schlub. He’s not a shell of his former self, that’s just himself! Christ almighty, he has done himself a bother, girl! Win-win my hairy white ass. This isn’t some deep metathinking thing going on, this is bloodsport in the fucking ring, and him getting chucked through a cage while three other people had his back isn’t winning. Him getting pinned isn’t victory by any fucking stretch. I guess we could do the math and talk about option three, where his balls drop and finishes puberty. We could talk about option four, where space men come from Alpha Centauri and show us all how basket weaving is done in the icy cold of space. We could talk about option five, where we all undergo a case of SMEF…

Is that contagious?

It's a sudden mass existence failure.

What the fuck is that?

It’s fun sci-fi, but nevermind. We could talk about options all the way to three-billion-seven-hundred-and-forty-three-million-three-hundred-and-sixty-nine-thousand-four-hundred-and-twenty.

Nice.

Thanks. There’s going to be only one result. It’s not a win for Shawn. It’s not a victory. It’s certainly not vindication. It’s him getting his ass whooped for all existence to see, and then if he wants to say the deck was stacked against him, and I agree, it is, he's on a shitty team, so I guess he could blame his cohorts and say he didn't have the back-up he needed, but we already knew Noah and Raven burned themselves out carrying his dead weight around from place to place. But if he wants to say it took an effort to take him out, well, Shawn, it's no sweat. We get it, you did all these things before everybody, like watch the wheel get invented, practice irrigation techniques, write a bitch session on papyrus, blah blah blah, you had your first match while they were building the lost catacombs in Egypt, and you walked uphill both ways through two feet of snow to get there. Hey, TK, how much you wanna bet we go from being muted to blocked on Twitter?

No Bet.

Well, no real loss, I can find plenty of young women who will harp about their crushes and act like divas, they’re a dime a dozen. You're like chicken wings, easy pickins, but should we offer for him to come and right whatever wrong happened, to prove he's actually legendary, he'll have an excuse. Make sure your parents sign your note for not dressing for gym class. Shit, he’ll still manage to be a bigger pussy than…

Bobby stops.

Who has a really large vagina?

Shawn Warstein. I mean, he’s always trying to talk about getting his dick wet. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles isn't that guy. Warstein’s the kinda guy who finds these bitches online and fills their head full of fucking nonsence. Makes them believe he’s some great goddamn athlete because he travels around. Reality will kick him in the fucking GAPING PUSSY at War Games. I can goddamn well promise you that.

Yeah, but who’s bigger?

Warstein’s after we’re done with it!

Oh! Ya know, that just makes me think of Alias and Corey.

Ugh, blown out pussy does?

Yeah, I reckon. Anyhow, Alias says nobody is talking about the draft, then Corey says that the people who are, aren’t, what did he say, canon? Fucking christ, the fanbase of the XWF means nothing to these assholes, and Alias wonders why I call him a bullshit, paper champion when he dismisses the fans. Corey, well, he knew better than to let my name come out of his mouth, considering that he and Thad are two peas and the same pod; under my ownership, lock, stock, and barrel. Kinda cute if he thinks his big, strong, handsome manly-man of a sham of a champ is going to step up and keep him snug and safe. Alias isn’t some spoopy nonsense, he’s about as frightening as Halloween decorations in April; which is to say he’s more just sad than anything else. Oh, and it looks like Robert Main went full Halloween mode and dressed up like Eli James then referred to himself in the third person a whole metric fuckton to scare Caedus. Caedus still sounds like a guy who got kicked out of an AA meeting. Dolly and Charlie are running a fucking leftover Halloween decor carnival. For the love of fuck, this is War Games, not Halloween 2, and speaking of, if anybody is the masked maniac Michael Meyers, well, fuck, it’d be me boyos! Someone explain the pop culture reference I just made to North Korean War Criminal. Oh, and don’t act like I don’t forget you. I remember the war we had for the Federweight Championship, chingu...

Bobby looks at TK.

Which means ‘friend’ to you and me.

Ah.

TK nods as Bobby turns back to watch the road.

You’re absolutely right about one thing, Mr. War Criminal, and that is the most obvious, understated, but overly understood thing the whole XWF Universe knew going into War Games. Chris Chaos sucks at cutting promos and has a dumb sense of humor. Dolly and Charlie, well, you guys are doing great work together. Just like a pair of rats near a dumpster behind the local dive bar, you’re digging through all the trash and finding Caedus, which must stink. Woah, sorry, sorry, people actually like rats and would buy one. You guys are just two bags of garbage that didn’t fit in the bin, but at least you’re shaped like rats. Whoo-ee, and what a shape that is. Charlie looks like he wouldn’t understand what to do in a gym, and Dolly looks like she couldn’t use any of the equipment if she even tried. Guys, take it from me, start slow, and start small. Don’t go in there trying to lift heavy like Them No Good Bastards. We’ve been banging and clanging for a while, and pushing weight like Girl Scouts push those amazing, wonderful, and delicious cookies. Then we comes to the old man hisself…

Himself.

TK grins from ear to ear, having corrected someone for a change. He sips from his can of Bud Light. Bobby smirks.

That’s what I said.

Gimme a second with these two fucks before you move on Bobby. Charlie’s Carnies are all over the fucking place aren’t they. Never really know who to talk about. Fucking lost in the breeze, if only the could take all that hot air and make something of it. Then they’d be a threat, but no, they’d rather piss it all away just like Muddy did to his liver. Somebody better call a goddamn doctor and have them on stand by cause Charlie’s Carnies are in fucking trouble. If their money is banking on Robert Main. They are fucking shortsighted. Robert spent so much goddamn time avoiding talking about Caedus. To that being the only thing he could fucking talk about. That’s fucking weakness and BOB exploits weakness. Robert Main’s weakness is his goddamn friends. He’s a gullible goddamn idiot that bumbles around until his head gets caved in and he dips out. That is who the fuck Robert Main is. ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles got his ass if he makes it to the Main Event. Bet your fucking last xbux on it.

Speaking of Doctors… What's up, Doc? You know, I'm not going to be like all the other dimwits out there. You are still a King. Now, I don't get why you stopped acting like one just because everybody said you weren't because you lost one match to Alias, but that's your weird little prerogative. What I do remember, though, is one of the big time XWF fans, one of hundreds that me and TK run into weekly, asked me if TK was a better partner than Trax.

You never partnered with Demos.

No, bro, Trax, not Thrax.

Never heard of him.

I think he’s alright with that. Anyhow, one of the XWF loyalists asked about a match where I partnered with Trax and we beat you and an entitled rich boy from New York. I had to think for a minute, but I remembered that yes, you couldn't pull Donald Trump to a win, and by proxy, you're not bringing Thad out ahead of BOB!.

Bobby looks somewhat distressed.

Fuck it, TK, I am getting pissed, and now I can't stop thinking about Thin Mints. I gotta focus on the road and not get road rage.


[bwo]We segue into a new scene of a busy gym, some kind of class is being taught en masse to a bunch of women in sports bras and yoga pants. We fast cut to see a woman using some kind of plastic box of a boondoggle to step up and down on.

Life can come at you hard and fast.

We see a woman in a bathing suit at the top of a high dive. She takes a deep, focused breath as she prepares to jump into the water below as fancy as she can because, well, we commend that as a species to the point it’s an Olympic event. Falling in water and not drowning.

You can come harder and faster than life.

We see a woman standing in line at a grocery store. A man approaches her and says something. She spins and spits in his face.

Jesus, are you on your period or something?

Yes, and I’m furious!

She holds up an item from the conveyor belt that’s bringing the items she intends to buy to the soul-drained drone in a smock scanning stuff with lasers. Wanna work with lasers? Go into retail. Anyhow, she holds up a package of tampons, the brand just reads Furious. There’s a picture of Miss Fury on the package..

Furious, a tampon that's so absorbent that It can control even a Corey-sized mess!
[/bwo]


We catch up with the festivities at the grounds of War Games. A massive campsite is set up, almost a festival unto itself, adorned with banners with the BOB logo, thousands of BOB fans all in attendance to watch their team win War Games indecisive and historic fashion. Oswald flashes into the scene having teleported through a portal, and the fans in attendance go wild. Oswald looks around, raises his arms, and opens a bevy of portals above, raining dollar bills and assorted treats on the crowd, almost replicating a pinata’s results. The crowd chants.

*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*BIG!*MONEY!*

As he does this, Bobby and TK, Them No Good Bastards, roll into the campsite in their signature stretch red Humvee limousine. The doors of the rear open and Elon Musk, Post Malone, Drew Carey, Keanu Reeves, Seth Rogan and Chris Rock all walk out, bedecked in their BOB t-shirts as the crowd cheers. The thunderous reaction amplifies as Bobby steps out of the driver’s seat and TK steps out of the shotgun seat. They both clack both pairs of their tag team championship belts and hold them up, and we see the Television Championship is actually set up as a hood ornament on the vehicle. The crowd chants in accordance.

*ASSHOLE!*DIRTBAG!*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*NO GOOD BASTARDS!*clap, clap, clap clap clap*

As this happens, a jet black helicopter touches down in the field with the BOB logo on the side. Big Puddin’, Diesel, and Chris Page all step out. Page raises both fists as the crowd goes absolutely wild.

*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*WE WANT CHRONIC!*

Miss Fury steps out shortly after.

*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*FURY!*clap*

Miss Fury looks absolutely gobsmacked by the reaction. Bobby steps up and stands next to her.

Hello, everybody! Whoa!

Bobby raises Fury’s hand.

Miss Fury, would you please? The heart of BOB.

Miss Fury waves.

Thank you. They love you. They love you here.

Oswald, Bobby, TK, and Miss Fury all meet up. Oswald sticks his hand out, Bobby places his flat on top of Oswald’s. TK places his atop Bobby’s. Fury finishes the stack by placing a black leather gloved hand on top of TK’s.

They wanna play fucking rough? Well then. Goddamn it, Let’s play rough!

The crowd is going bananas for all of this. A group of stunning young women, completely nude, approach the group. Big Puddin’ licks his chops. Chris Rock and Post Malone look taken aback. Bobby and TK just kind of stare as Oswald smirks in approval. Miss Fury looks somewhat confused.

Uh, hi?

One of the girls steps forward.

“We saw it all on Twitter.”

Saw what?

Another girl, bubbly in nature and smiling, speaks up.

“We’re here to fuck BOB.”

Yo!

TK raises a finger to the sky and walks over to the group of girls. Bobby shakes his head and glances at Ozzy, gesturing towards the girls.

I’m a fighter, not a lover.

”I mean… I'm married”

They want a piece of you, big man.

Oswald bashfully walks over and is immediately grabbed by three of the girls.

”Sorry ladies, I'm married. Unless you don’t mind waiting for my wife to join.”

Don’t worry bitches, I got this.

TK meanders off with the smoking hot girls. Miss Fury looks at Bobby.

How did this happen?

Well, we’re BOB, the biggest fucking thing in wrestling. You think Alias has this kind of fanbase? Doc? We appeal to the wild crowd who wants the ruckus, not the mopey and dopey!

But, what do we do with all these people?

A huge box truck pulls up, and behind the wheel is Barney Green.

You know that drug cartel we have now? I’d say we’ve got business to attend to.

Miss Fury looks on the verge of tears of joy.

Are you saying we use these people to mule our dope into the country?

No, I’m saying let’s have a little fun.

How isn’t my idea fun?

Bobby smirks, thinking that Fury’s evil naivety was almost cute. He then turns his attention to the group of protesters from the Westboro Baptist Church who are seen arriving, with malice and hate in their hearts for the happenings at the BOB area of War Games. Signs reading some of the most vulgar and hateful slogans ever imagined, least of all associated with a church, are seen, and the fun-loving BOBsters who have congregated to party at War Games look disgusted. A group of Q-Anon supporters also seem to be arriving, holding upside-down American flags and bedecked in Trump memorabilia. Bobby cracks his knuckles.

Oh, I ordered out. Call it a little light training.

Bobby pulls out his phone and fuddles around with it, then shows Miss Fury the screen. It seems to be a post from Parlor, where an account going by the name R. J. Booze has instilled the need for a presence here today. He hands it to Miss Fury as Bobby grits his teeth, grinning wide. He charges at the congregation of Q-Anons with a bloodthirsty roar as the crowd goes absolutely wild. Barney hops out of the box truck.

Is he beating up Q-Anons?

Miss Fury nods.

He’s a national treasure. Well, your drugs are here, go sell them.

Miss Fury looks at Barney.

What are you going to do?

A few more naked women approach Barney. He looks at Fury and gives her a thumbs up, then Barney walks off with the girls. Fury is standing by herself when all of a sudden THE NOID appears again.

[bwo][Image: 122.gif][/bwo]


We're not doing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bit what are you doing Jimmy?

Jimmy comes off his pogo stick and tosses it to the side.

I'm here to make things clear that THE NOID knows what these Teams are lacking.

Jimmy places photographs of the faces of the team captains on the ground in front of him. He then pulls out a new and improved pogo stick.


[bwo][Image: WGCRUSHER.jpg][/bwo]


First up, Team Betsy, AKA Reggie's Angels.

Jimmy bounces the pogo stick off the face of Betsy.

No real team identity and it only got worse as Shawn entered. Taking over the show. Pathetic.

The camera swings back over to the picture of Betsy that now has "KIA" stamped onto it.

Team Duke, AKA Discontinuum.

Jimmy again bounces but this time on the picture of Duke.

Cowards.

The camera shows Duke with the same "KIA" on it.

Team Dick, AKA ACocKalypse Now.

Jimmy bounces onto the picture of Powers.

No heart.

"KIA" is stamped onto Dick's forehead.

Team Corey, AKA F.U.C.K.T.H.A.D.

This time Jimmy bounces on his Ware Games crusher pogo stick with gusto.

Handcuffed themselves at the outset. Corey has a problem with the team environment setting. This time he at least tried to course-correct but in the end, it won't be enough. Sorry, bud.

The "KIA" on Corey's picture covers his mouth.

Team Charlie, AKA Charlie's Carnies.

Jimmy does a flip landing on Charlie's picture and lands on it twice

Work as well together as motor oil and water. Sure, it looks cool at first, but really it's just a mess that kitty litter has to sop up, then shoveled, and thrown away.

"KIA" doesn't appear on Charlie's picture but instead the eyes are ripped out.

The Noid is winning War Games because if one BOB wins, we all win.

THE END MOTHERFUCKER!


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