<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Relentless Day 3 RP Board 2021]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Sat, 16 May 2026 11:35:32 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Severed Penises, Hallucinations of Grandeur, and Familiar Visitors]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41967 Sat, 25 Sep 2021 23:58:58 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41967
Espionage
Deceit (but hidden)
Paranoia
Espionage
Deceit
Paranoia


What’s he blabbering about now?

One of the nursing aides clutches a clipboard to her chest as she leans into the personal space of her curious colleague. The shorter of the two nursing aides looks up at the ginger woman with an annoyed expression.

He binge-watched all of Alias’s Relentless promos and he’s been talking like that ever since.

Has anyone tried throwing up some of the Doctor’s promos to even him out?

We showed him all we had, but we really wish we had some more promos from the Doctor to show him!

Bete
Disguise
Submission
Manipulation


Charlie rocks back and forth in his wheelchair while mumbling to himself. He’s dressed in nothing but an ill-fitting hospital gown that ties together at the back, leaving small bits of his asscheeks exposed. He rubs his hands against the sides of his arms as he sits in front of a closed window. The heavymetalweight belt lays still in his lap with the championship plate facing down, as if he were trying to hide it.

Can we just…..sedate him?

Hardly. This dude has been using medical grade sedatives as a hobby for the last ten years.

Charlie runs the fingers on his left hand through his unwashed beard. He cocks his head slightly to the side and begins to stare at a space on the wall near the baseboards. Charlie squints at the shadow being reflected on the wall and begins to babble code incessantly at an incredibly breakneck speed.

“01010111 01101000 01100001 01110100 01100001 01110010 01100101 01111001 01101111 01110101 01100100 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100100 01101001 01100011 01101011 01110000 -”

“Oh my god what the hell is he saying now?”

“No idea, this is above my paygrade.”

“01101111 01110111 01100101 01110010 01110011 01100100 01101001 01100100 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100-”

“Yeah we’re just going to mark this in his chart and move on.”

The nursing aide with the clipboard begins to scribble a few notes onto the paper before she gestures for her coworker to follow her out of the room. The two women leave the room one after the other, but all the while Charlie Nickles has been fixated on the slight shadow near the baseboards.

“01101101 01100101 01110100 01101111 01101011 01101001 01100011 01101011 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 01100001 01110011 01110011 01100001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101110 01111001 01101111 01110101-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

How’s it going……

A masked woman walks into the room as her knuckles make contact with the frame of the door. Her green wrestling gloves sparkle and shine as the overhead lighting reflects off the attached sequins.

Charmos? Is this the right room?

“00100111 01110010 01100101 01101110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 01100010 01110101 01110100 01100001 01100011-”

The woman in the green, red, and white mask steps out of the room briefly to re-examine the number on the side of the door.

I guess it is. Que curiosa.

“01101111 01110111 01100001 01110010 01100100 01110111 01100001 01101001 01110100”


[u]
12 hours earlier
[/u]

We open with a shot down a narrow hallway. The overhead lights flicker on and off, allowing intermittent viewing of the faded green walls of the hall. The white floors seem to be smeared with a mixture of red and yellow bodily fluids. A few cockroaches running along the baseboards skitter beneath the wall as soft footsteps begin to echo down the hall.

A figure dressed in dark clothing turns a corner and comes into view of the camera. Mop in hand and bucket in tow, the figure soon starts mopping the floors of the grimey hallway. The fading green walls entrapping the figure appear even grimier in contrast to the soon sparkling floors, but the shadowy figure doesn’t seem to pay them any mind. The figure runs their hand across the brim of their hat before placing their mop inside the rolling water bucket and pushing it down the hall. The wheels of the bucket squeal and whine with every forward motion. After a handful of steps the figure lifts the mop up and bangs it against the rim of the bucket several times. The figure then lifts the mop and shakes it around slightly, letting loose water droplets shoot across the walls.

The figure lifts the mop closely to their face, as if they were inhaling it’s pine sol scents. The figure releases a deeply elated sight before returning the mophead to the dirty floors and scrubbing once more.

“Hey, why don’t you come over here and let me get a sniff of that sol’?”

A cracking voice shoots out from one of the hospital rooms adjacent to the hallway. The dark figure grumbles beneath their breath as they briefly glance through the open doorway. The figure looked at the Nickleman for only a second before immediately returning to their gaze to the soiled flooring in the hall.

“Hey, c’mon, bring it over here. They’re not letting me have any of the good stuff in here!”

Charlie Nickles lifts himself up to a sitting position in his hospital bed. He leans forward and places a couple of pillows against his back to prop him up. The Nickleman licks his lips as he looks into the bucket with devious intent.

“Why don’t you turn my light on and pour me a drink?”

“Why don’t you go to hell?!” the shadowy figure barks back with a snarling tone.

“I’ve been there, buddy! The drugs SUCK and the bitches don’t! It ain’t my vibes, bitch.”

The shadowy figure tosses the mop against the wall before barreling headfirst into Charlie’s room with a naruto-esque run. Charlie gasps and leans back, but before he can even begin to defend himself the dark figure grabs Charlie by the collar with one hand. The creature’s other hand immediately begins to grip the top of Charlie’s skull. Charlie closes his eyes and struggles to break free, but without the use of his legs he is easily overpowered and pushed down against the bed.

“Open your eyes….” snarls the shadowy creature. As Charlie brings his eyelids up the scent of sulfur overpowers his nostrils. The burned face of a deeply scarred man stares down at the Nickleman.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSyyn9ZXa4lV52R6ufhV4a...Q&usqp=CAU]

The disfigured man brings his right hand down, slashing his titanium claws through Charlie’s hospital gown. Metallic blades pierce Charlie’s flesh and leave trickles of blood running down the side of his body.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck”

“What’s the matter, Charlie? Don’t you remember me? It was only a year ago! You did worse to me only a year ago!”

The figure in the fedora slashes Charlie’s chest again. The Nickleman man begins gurgling blood. That sweet scarlet nectar runs down Charlie’s chin and into his beard as his body convulses and seizes from the loss of juice. The monstrous atrocity grabs Charlie Nickles by the throat before placing his forehead atop Charlie’s.

“DON’T YOU REMEMBER YOUR GOOD FRIEND JEFFY, CHARLIE NICKLES?!”

“JEFFY?!”

“You deserve this, Charlie Nickles! You deserve to die!”

“N-n-not yet!”

“You’re right….”

The burned abomination pushes itself away from Charlie before quickling ripping his hospital gown to shreds. The figure spits a sizzling green syrup onto the Nickleman’s bleeding torso before standing up straight. Charlie’s torn tissue begins to sizzle and burn as it singes together. The bleeding quickly stops, but Charlie continues to writhe in pain atop his hospital bed.

“You will die at Relentless. And then, your soul will be with mine forever! You’ll be with your good friend Jeffy, and we can watch Sarah Lacklan’s Saucy Sextape forevermore! That’s your best fucking work, you know. You’re never going to rise to the top again! You might as well let Dicky Powers put you in the grave!”

“I’m better than ever!”



The creature cackles at the notion.

“I am! I’m better than I was at last year’s Relentless, even if my name isn’t as big on the card! In between now and then I’ve done so much, I’ve won so many titles!”

“That’s not what Dick Powers says. That’s not what anyone says!”

“I don’t give a fuck what anyone says I know the truth because I’ve LIVED it!”

“You may not live it for much longer, ol’ saint Nickles…”

Nickles stared up at the shadowy monstrosity with grave concern on his face.

“I can’t die yet! I’m SO close to the top! I...I can’t let myself die! Not yet!”

“You were closer a year ago than you are today, you fool! You’ve done nothing but backslide in this business ever since you burned me, you son of a bitch! You were nothing but a madman in the lead up to last year’s Relentless, obsessed with your precious little ‘Sarah’....and where is she now? Where is that love of your life? She beat you and left, like a younger and smarter Connie! That was the best chance you’ll ever have at the universal championship and you blew it! And now…..”

The creature grins as it stretches its arms out wide, gesturing towards Charlie’s whole body.

“Look at how far you have fallen.”

Charlie shakes his head from side to side as he pushes his body up to a seated position once again. His nightgown has been completely sliced open, but his chest appears to have healed right up.

“Life is a rollercoaster, Jeffy, you stupidly homicidal sonofabitch! I am on the down now and I was on the down when I lost to that blonde bombshell, but in between these two drops I was riding high, and I know that the tallest peak is coming yet In between those two drops I became the longest reigning Television champion in all of human history! I cemented my legacy as the most decorated heavymetalweight champion ever! I carried Jim Jimson to the top of the tag title scene! I beat Betsy Granger, Bobby Bourbon, Dick Powers, Jim Caedus, Lycana, Doc D’Ville, Alias, Vinnie Lane, Theo Pryce….”

“Nope.”

“I’ve beaten them all where it matters.”

“You’re a fool.”

Charlie Nickles stares straight at the demonic figure as he points a finger at his own skull.

“I’ve beaten them in my mind. Once I get that image of brutalizing them stuck in my mind, on loop, I begin to crave it more and more. I begin to get addicted to it- and you know how addicts are, Jeffy! The same amounts just don’t hit the same after time. I start to crave these images of violence and depravity more and more, I start thinking about nothing BUT the violence. But thoughts, much like thots, lose their potency over time. A quick amount of time. I begin to need something more. I begin to need the real thing, like an addict with nothing but methadone capsule in his pocket. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot of Dick Powers…..but now my friend Jeffy, now I’m starting to think of you.”

Charlie Nickles stares daggers into the eye sockets of the shadowy figure. The creature smirks at the man’s indignance.

“I only wanted you to make my dreams come true, Charlie Nickles. That’s all I wanted when you were pent up in the hospital before last year’s Relentless. I just wanted to hang out and have a good time with my favorite XWF superstar. But you couldn’t let that happen to me….you had to do THIS to my face!”

The figure leans forward as he shows off his burned face for Charlie to see.

“You left me down in that boiler room to burn! You wouldn’t let my dreams come true...but now, our roles are switched.”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie sneers back at the figure. The burned creature tips it’s fedora towards the bedridden Nickleman.

“I’m going to make your dreams come true!”

The burned victim charges at Charlie once more. The creature wraps its claws around Charlie’s throat and begins to squeeze. Charlie brings his hands up to his neck and tries to pry the creature’s digits off of his trachea, but lady luck is never on Charlie’s side. The dark creature whispers into Charlie’s ear as the Nickleman begins to lose consciousness.

“You don’t want to die yet, Charlie? That’s ok. It’s even better if your children can watch you get railroaded by those speeding two-tonne bullets on national television.”


Seven hours later


“It was LEAKY DICKY FUCKING POWERS! And if it wasn’t him, it was someone he hired to come into my room last night and terrorize me!”

“Charles, no one was in your room last night.”

“Someone was in my fuckin’ room last night Doc, I fucking saw him! He attacked me, and I’m pretty god damned sure it was that rascally bastard they call tricky Dick!”

The short and stout doctor sighed softly as he brought his clipboard down near his waist. The doctor rubbed his creased forehead with immense stress, as if he’s had a long day of talking to unruly patients and visitors.

“There was no one in your room last night Charles. We have nurses, janitors, and security guards working every night. Someone would’ve seen something.”

Charlie Nickles leaned forward in his bed. The new hospital gown that he was wearing was clearly a few sizes too small, but he didn’t seem to care. Charlie’s nipples poked through the fabric of his gown as he pointed an accusatory finger in the doctor’s face.

“ARE YOU IN LEAGUE WITH HIM?! Someone had to have seen him! Dick Powers was in here, walking around my room, trying to intimidate me and psyche me out before our big match at Relentless! A win over me would be the biggest win of his fucking career, he’ll do anything he can to get an underhanded advantage! He’s clearly the heel here, but he’s taking the concept of antagonizing the company’s most sympathetic babyface WAY TOO FAR!”

“Charles, you’re suffering from psychotic delusions. The only person walking around in your room last night was you. We’re increasing the frequency and dosages of your medications going forward.”

“HARDY-FUCKING-HAR, Doc! I’m fucking crippled, how the fuck was I walking around my room last night?”

The doctor sighed as he buried his face in his hand.

“This again? Ugh. Why would it even be Dick Powers that was here? You said it was someone with immense burn damage to the face- that’s just not what Dick Powers looks like. And we don’t have any burn victims on the ward right now”

“It’s exactly what Dick’s looked like ever since last week! I burned that bitch, bad!”

“Charlie, you’ve been stuck in the hospital for weeks!”

“Exactly, my burns were that severe and lacerating it has forever disfigured his face!”

“He was on Relentless last night….”

“Pre-taped.”

Charlie Nickles dismisses the objection with the wave of a hand.

“But Charles, the daughter of one of my other patients wrestled on night one of Relentless. She won, in fact, and she had to leave her mother’s side to do it. I know it wasn’t pre-taped. You were the only one walking around last night.”

“You really think I tore up my own hospital gown?”

“Yes, Charles. We saw you do it on the security cameras!”

Charlie waves away the notion with another dismissive hand gesture.

“Deep fakes! It’s easy to deep fake anything these days, I know Dick Powers can do it! If he can fake having a big dick and an impressive wrestling resume, I know he can fake some video footage!”

The short and stout doctor closes his eyes and shakes his head from side to side in exasperation.

“You can’t just blame Dick Powers for everything that goes wrong in your life, especially when it’s a result of your own mental illness.”

“Shut the fuck up, whitecoat! I know what I’m talking about, I was fucking here last night! It was Limpy Dick Cowers, god damn it! Or some sort of fucking demon he summoned from a oujia board, or some shit, but it was definitely his work! He has been telling himself lies all week, and now he’s trying to get lies buried into my mind to keep me off my game!”

The doctor rubs his tired eyes with his balled hands before just blurting out in frustration.

“What damn lies, Charlie? What lies is Dick Powers telling?”

“He said he fucking beat me at Relentless! That’s fucking bullshit and everyone knows it! That team of dumb motherfuckers he drafted coulndn’t beat each other’s meat if they tried, much less my Carnies! My team beat the piss out of his team, and that means I fucking beat him! If the Buccaneers win a game 13-10 and Tom Brady gets sacked four times, Tom Brady is still a fucking winner, baby! I’M A FUCKING WINNER, BABY! I’M THE XWF’S TOM BRADY!”

“I’m done, I’m just done.”

The doctor drops the clipboard to the floor and quickly exits the room. As he leaves the doorway he quickly turns to a nearby nurse and gives her new instructions to follow.

“The patient is as delusional as they’ve ever been. Triple the dosages and double the frequency of his anti-psychotic regiment. Totally take him off of the pain meds, he needs to know that his fucking legs still work.”

“Yes, good doctor!”

“Fucking Sticky Dicky. I’m going to give a whole new meaning to that little nickname of his after I leave him covered in his own gorey slime. He thinks he can terrorize me? He thinks he can haunt me while I try to sleep? NO FUCKING WAY! I’M THE GOD DAMN NICKLEMAN, AND I WON’T FUCKING STAND FOR I- AH FUCKING SHIT YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I MEAN!”

The Charlie shouts to *nobody* as the camera fades to black.


Four Hours Later


It’s all fun and games until Dick watches his severed penis get shoved into the exhaust pipe of a speed racer.

So did you like, want a glass of water or something? You’ve been pressing the emergency button nonstop for three minutes.

I need the world to know.

An incessant beeping noise blares out through the nearby hallways as Charlie relentlessly presses a red button set up along the wall.

Sigh….What did you need the world to know?

The Nickleman can never die- only be reborn. Stronger.

Okay...can you stop pressing the emergency alert?

Charlie Nickles pulls his hand away from the big red button on the side of the wall. The two nursing aides look on in disinterested annoyance as Charlie Nickles begins to rant and rave.

“Dick Powers has to die. That’s the only way I can show the world I can stand on my own two fee-FUCK! You know what I fucking mean anyways, god damn it! Dick Powers fucking did this to me!”

Charlie gestures towards his limp legs.

“The world has been laughing at me. Mocking me. Treating me like a joke. This has been the story of my fucking life. No one ever believes I can accomplish anything….until I accomplish it. And then, as soon as they can, the cliques and tricks start to pile dirt and dust upon my achievements. Dick fucking Powers is the final straw….and perfect fucking mouthpiece for all those limpwristed pussies that do nothing but mock my work. When I pull that twisted tongue out of his dirty mouth I’ll know I’m making good progress on silencing all the haters and critics.

He’s a comedian, a jokey kind of a guy. A clown, but the kind of clown people like. The kind of clown people actually want to see, not the kind of clown that comes breaking through their door with a bloody hatchet and a quick make-up job. He’s the kind of guy that represents everything I fucking hate about the XWF:

He’s not a fucking wrestler. He’s just a character that does jokes. He’s not a fucking wrestler. He just demeans and diminshes our entire fucking sport. He’s great on the mic and abyssmal in the ring, so no fucking wonder he’s reduced to flexing about payperview matches he lost. He’s not a wrestler- he’s just given title shot after title shot that he blows like an early load. What a fucking gimp.

His earhole will make a great pussy for my tire iron.”

“What are you talking about?

“My tire iron!”

Charlie pulls out the heavymetalweight championship belt from beneath his hospital gown before lifting it up in the air for the nurses to see.

“Let’s just mark this in the chart….”

“Yeah let’s do that…..”

The two nurses turn and flee the room as Charlie holds the heavymetalweight championship belt high above his wheelchair.

“I won’t ever let him kill me, babygirl. If I do, Uncle Jimson will be watching over you….and we don’t want that.”

Charlie smiled up at the outdated relic of a belt before holding it against his chest like it was a baby. Charlie started to rock the championship belt back and forth as he sung an odd tune to his baby belt as he softly pinned it to his chest...

“01101001 01101110 01100111 01101001 01101110 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110011 01101000 01100001 01100100 01101111 01110111 01110011 01111001 01101111 01110101 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101001 01100001 01101101 01100111 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 01110100 01101111 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 01101111 01100011 01101011 01100101 01110100 01100001 01110100 01110010 01100101 01101100 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101100 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100010 01110101 01110100 01110111 01101000 01111001 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 01111001 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 01101111 01110101 01110100 01100001 01101110 01100100 01100111 01100101 01110100 01101001 01110100 01101110 01101111 01110111 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110011 01101001 01110011 01110011 01111001 01100111 01100001 01111001 01100010 01101111 01111001 00101110!”]]>
Espionage
Deceit (but hidden)
Paranoia
Espionage
Deceit
Paranoia


What’s he blabbering about now?

One of the nursing aides clutches a clipboard to her chest as she leans into the personal space of her curious colleague. The shorter of the two nursing aides looks up at the ginger woman with an annoyed expression.

He binge-watched all of Alias’s Relentless promos and he’s been talking like that ever since.

Has anyone tried throwing up some of the Doctor’s promos to even him out?

We showed him all we had, but we really wish we had some more promos from the Doctor to show him!

Bete
Disguise
Submission
Manipulation


Charlie rocks back and forth in his wheelchair while mumbling to himself. He’s dressed in nothing but an ill-fitting hospital gown that ties together at the back, leaving small bits of his asscheeks exposed. He rubs his hands against the sides of his arms as he sits in front of a closed window. The heavymetalweight belt lays still in his lap with the championship plate facing down, as if he were trying to hide it.

Can we just…..sedate him?

Hardly. This dude has been using medical grade sedatives as a hobby for the last ten years.

Charlie runs the fingers on his left hand through his unwashed beard. He cocks his head slightly to the side and begins to stare at a space on the wall near the baseboards. Charlie squints at the shadow being reflected on the wall and begins to babble code incessantly at an incredibly breakneck speed.

“01010111 01101000 01100001 01110100 01100001 01110010 01100101 01111001 01101111 01110101 01100100 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100100 01101001 01100011 01101011 01110000 -”

“Oh my god what the hell is he saying now?”

“No idea, this is above my paygrade.”

“01101111 01110111 01100101 01110010 01110011 01100100 01101001 01100100 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100-”

“Yeah we’re just going to mark this in his chart and move on.”

The nursing aide with the clipboard begins to scribble a few notes onto the paper before she gestures for her coworker to follow her out of the room. The two women leave the room one after the other, but all the while Charlie Nickles has been fixated on the slight shadow near the baseboards.

“01101101 01100101 01110100 01101111 01101011 01101001 01100011 01101011 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 01100001 01110011 01110011 01100001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101110 01111001 01101111 01110101-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

How’s it going……

A masked woman walks into the room as her knuckles make contact with the frame of the door. Her green wrestling gloves sparkle and shine as the overhead lighting reflects off the attached sequins.

Charmos? Is this the right room?

“00100111 01110010 01100101 01101110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 01100010 01110101 01110100 01100001 01100011-”

The woman in the green, red, and white mask steps out of the room briefly to re-examine the number on the side of the door.

I guess it is. Que curiosa.

“01101111 01110111 01100001 01110010 01100100 01110111 01100001 01101001 01110100”


[u]
12 hours earlier
[/u]

We open with a shot down a narrow hallway. The overhead lights flicker on and off, allowing intermittent viewing of the faded green walls of the hall. The white floors seem to be smeared with a mixture of red and yellow bodily fluids. A few cockroaches running along the baseboards skitter beneath the wall as soft footsteps begin to echo down the hall.

A figure dressed in dark clothing turns a corner and comes into view of the camera. Mop in hand and bucket in tow, the figure soon starts mopping the floors of the grimey hallway. The fading green walls entrapping the figure appear even grimier in contrast to the soon sparkling floors, but the shadowy figure doesn’t seem to pay them any mind. The figure runs their hand across the brim of their hat before placing their mop inside the rolling water bucket and pushing it down the hall. The wheels of the bucket squeal and whine with every forward motion. After a handful of steps the figure lifts the mop up and bangs it against the rim of the bucket several times. The figure then lifts the mop and shakes it around slightly, letting loose water droplets shoot across the walls.

The figure lifts the mop closely to their face, as if they were inhaling it’s pine sol scents. The figure releases a deeply elated sight before returning the mophead to the dirty floors and scrubbing once more.

“Hey, why don’t you come over here and let me get a sniff of that sol’?”

A cracking voice shoots out from one of the hospital rooms adjacent to the hallway. The dark figure grumbles beneath their breath as they briefly glance through the open doorway. The figure looked at the Nickleman for only a second before immediately returning to their gaze to the soiled flooring in the hall.

“Hey, c’mon, bring it over here. They’re not letting me have any of the good stuff in here!”

Charlie Nickles lifts himself up to a sitting position in his hospital bed. He leans forward and places a couple of pillows against his back to prop him up. The Nickleman licks his lips as he looks into the bucket with devious intent.

“Why don’t you turn my light on and pour me a drink?”

“Why don’t you go to hell?!” the shadowy figure barks back with a snarling tone.

“I’ve been there, buddy! The drugs SUCK and the bitches don’t! It ain’t my vibes, bitch.”

The shadowy figure tosses the mop against the wall before barreling headfirst into Charlie’s room with a naruto-esque run. Charlie gasps and leans back, but before he can even begin to defend himself the dark figure grabs Charlie by the collar with one hand. The creature’s other hand immediately begins to grip the top of Charlie’s skull. Charlie closes his eyes and struggles to break free, but without the use of his legs he is easily overpowered and pushed down against the bed.

“Open your eyes….” snarls the shadowy creature. As Charlie brings his eyelids up the scent of sulfur overpowers his nostrils. The burned face of a deeply scarred man stares down at the Nickleman.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSyyn9ZXa4lV52R6ufhV4a...Q&usqp=CAU]

The disfigured man brings his right hand down, slashing his titanium claws through Charlie’s hospital gown. Metallic blades pierce Charlie’s flesh and leave trickles of blood running down the side of his body.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck”

“What’s the matter, Charlie? Don’t you remember me? It was only a year ago! You did worse to me only a year ago!”

The figure in the fedora slashes Charlie’s chest again. The Nickleman man begins gurgling blood. That sweet scarlet nectar runs down Charlie’s chin and into his beard as his body convulses and seizes from the loss of juice. The monstrous atrocity grabs Charlie Nickles by the throat before placing his forehead atop Charlie’s.

“DON’T YOU REMEMBER YOUR GOOD FRIEND JEFFY, CHARLIE NICKLES?!”

“JEFFY?!”

“You deserve this, Charlie Nickles! You deserve to die!”

“N-n-not yet!”

“You’re right….”

The burned abomination pushes itself away from Charlie before quickling ripping his hospital gown to shreds. The figure spits a sizzling green syrup onto the Nickleman’s bleeding torso before standing up straight. Charlie’s torn tissue begins to sizzle and burn as it singes together. The bleeding quickly stops, but Charlie continues to writhe in pain atop his hospital bed.

“You will die at Relentless. And then, your soul will be with mine forever! You’ll be with your good friend Jeffy, and we can watch Sarah Lacklan’s Saucy Sextape forevermore! That’s your best fucking work, you know. You’re never going to rise to the top again! You might as well let Dicky Powers put you in the grave!”

“I’m better than ever!”



The creature cackles at the notion.

“I am! I’m better than I was at last year’s Relentless, even if my name isn’t as big on the card! In between now and then I’ve done so much, I’ve won so many titles!”

“That’s not what Dick Powers says. That’s not what anyone says!”

“I don’t give a fuck what anyone says I know the truth because I’ve LIVED it!”

“You may not live it for much longer, ol’ saint Nickles…”

Nickles stared up at the shadowy monstrosity with grave concern on his face.

“I can’t die yet! I’m SO close to the top! I...I can’t let myself die! Not yet!”

“You were closer a year ago than you are today, you fool! You’ve done nothing but backslide in this business ever since you burned me, you son of a bitch! You were nothing but a madman in the lead up to last year’s Relentless, obsessed with your precious little ‘Sarah’....and where is she now? Where is that love of your life? She beat you and left, like a younger and smarter Connie! That was the best chance you’ll ever have at the universal championship and you blew it! And now…..”

The creature grins as it stretches its arms out wide, gesturing towards Charlie’s whole body.

“Look at how far you have fallen.”

Charlie shakes his head from side to side as he pushes his body up to a seated position once again. His nightgown has been completely sliced open, but his chest appears to have healed right up.

“Life is a rollercoaster, Jeffy, you stupidly homicidal sonofabitch! I am on the down now and I was on the down when I lost to that blonde bombshell, but in between these two drops I was riding high, and I know that the tallest peak is coming yet In between those two drops I became the longest reigning Television champion in all of human history! I cemented my legacy as the most decorated heavymetalweight champion ever! I carried Jim Jimson to the top of the tag title scene! I beat Betsy Granger, Bobby Bourbon, Dick Powers, Jim Caedus, Lycana, Doc D’Ville, Alias, Vinnie Lane, Theo Pryce….”

“Nope.”

“I’ve beaten them all where it matters.”

“You’re a fool.”

Charlie Nickles stares straight at the demonic figure as he points a finger at his own skull.

“I’ve beaten them in my mind. Once I get that image of brutalizing them stuck in my mind, on loop, I begin to crave it more and more. I begin to get addicted to it- and you know how addicts are, Jeffy! The same amounts just don’t hit the same after time. I start to crave these images of violence and depravity more and more, I start thinking about nothing BUT the violence. But thoughts, much like thots, lose their potency over time. A quick amount of time. I begin to need something more. I begin to need the real thing, like an addict with nothing but methadone capsule in his pocket. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot of Dick Powers…..but now my friend Jeffy, now I’m starting to think of you.”

Charlie Nickles stares daggers into the eye sockets of the shadowy figure. The creature smirks at the man’s indignance.

“I only wanted you to make my dreams come true, Charlie Nickles. That’s all I wanted when you were pent up in the hospital before last year’s Relentless. I just wanted to hang out and have a good time with my favorite XWF superstar. But you couldn’t let that happen to me….you had to do THIS to my face!”

The figure leans forward as he shows off his burned face for Charlie to see.

“You left me down in that boiler room to burn! You wouldn’t let my dreams come true...but now, our roles are switched.”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie sneers back at the figure. The burned creature tips it’s fedora towards the bedridden Nickleman.

“I’m going to make your dreams come true!”

The burned victim charges at Charlie once more. The creature wraps its claws around Charlie’s throat and begins to squeeze. Charlie brings his hands up to his neck and tries to pry the creature’s digits off of his trachea, but lady luck is never on Charlie’s side. The dark creature whispers into Charlie’s ear as the Nickleman begins to lose consciousness.

“You don’t want to die yet, Charlie? That’s ok. It’s even better if your children can watch you get railroaded by those speeding two-tonne bullets on national television.”


Seven hours later


“It was LEAKY DICKY FUCKING POWERS! And if it wasn’t him, it was someone he hired to come into my room last night and terrorize me!”

“Charles, no one was in your room last night.”

“Someone was in my fuckin’ room last night Doc, I fucking saw him! He attacked me, and I’m pretty god damned sure it was that rascally bastard they call tricky Dick!”

The short and stout doctor sighed softly as he brought his clipboard down near his waist. The doctor rubbed his creased forehead with immense stress, as if he’s had a long day of talking to unruly patients and visitors.

“There was no one in your room last night Charles. We have nurses, janitors, and security guards working every night. Someone would’ve seen something.”

Charlie Nickles leaned forward in his bed. The new hospital gown that he was wearing was clearly a few sizes too small, but he didn’t seem to care. Charlie’s nipples poked through the fabric of his gown as he pointed an accusatory finger in the doctor’s face.

“ARE YOU IN LEAGUE WITH HIM?! Someone had to have seen him! Dick Powers was in here, walking around my room, trying to intimidate me and psyche me out before our big match at Relentless! A win over me would be the biggest win of his fucking career, he’ll do anything he can to get an underhanded advantage! He’s clearly the heel here, but he’s taking the concept of antagonizing the company’s most sympathetic babyface WAY TOO FAR!”

“Charles, you’re suffering from psychotic delusions. The only person walking around in your room last night was you. We’re increasing the frequency and dosages of your medications going forward.”

“HARDY-FUCKING-HAR, Doc! I’m fucking crippled, how the fuck was I walking around my room last night?”

The doctor sighed as he buried his face in his hand.

“This again? Ugh. Why would it even be Dick Powers that was here? You said it was someone with immense burn damage to the face- that’s just not what Dick Powers looks like. And we don’t have any burn victims on the ward right now”

“It’s exactly what Dick’s looked like ever since last week! I burned that bitch, bad!”

“Charlie, you’ve been stuck in the hospital for weeks!”

“Exactly, my burns were that severe and lacerating it has forever disfigured his face!”

“He was on Relentless last night….”

“Pre-taped.”

Charlie Nickles dismisses the objection with the wave of a hand.

“But Charles, the daughter of one of my other patients wrestled on night one of Relentless. She won, in fact, and she had to leave her mother’s side to do it. I know it wasn’t pre-taped. You were the only one walking around last night.”

“You really think I tore up my own hospital gown?”

“Yes, Charles. We saw you do it on the security cameras!”

Charlie waves away the notion with another dismissive hand gesture.

“Deep fakes! It’s easy to deep fake anything these days, I know Dick Powers can do it! If he can fake having a big dick and an impressive wrestling resume, I know he can fake some video footage!”

The short and stout doctor closes his eyes and shakes his head from side to side in exasperation.

“You can’t just blame Dick Powers for everything that goes wrong in your life, especially when it’s a result of your own mental illness.”

“Shut the fuck up, whitecoat! I know what I’m talking about, I was fucking here last night! It was Limpy Dick Cowers, god damn it! Or some sort of fucking demon he summoned from a oujia board, or some shit, but it was definitely his work! He has been telling himself lies all week, and now he’s trying to get lies buried into my mind to keep me off my game!”

The doctor rubs his tired eyes with his balled hands before just blurting out in frustration.

“What damn lies, Charlie? What lies is Dick Powers telling?”

“He said he fucking beat me at Relentless! That’s fucking bullshit and everyone knows it! That team of dumb motherfuckers he drafted coulndn’t beat each other’s meat if they tried, much less my Carnies! My team beat the piss out of his team, and that means I fucking beat him! If the Buccaneers win a game 13-10 and Tom Brady gets sacked four times, Tom Brady is still a fucking winner, baby! I’M A FUCKING WINNER, BABY! I’M THE XWF’S TOM BRADY!”

“I’m done, I’m just done.”

The doctor drops the clipboard to the floor and quickly exits the room. As he leaves the doorway he quickly turns to a nearby nurse and gives her new instructions to follow.

“The patient is as delusional as they’ve ever been. Triple the dosages and double the frequency of his anti-psychotic regiment. Totally take him off of the pain meds, he needs to know that his fucking legs still work.”

“Yes, good doctor!”

“Fucking Sticky Dicky. I’m going to give a whole new meaning to that little nickname of his after I leave him covered in his own gorey slime. He thinks he can terrorize me? He thinks he can haunt me while I try to sleep? NO FUCKING WAY! I’M THE GOD DAMN NICKLEMAN, AND I WON’T FUCKING STAND FOR I- AH FUCKING SHIT YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I MEAN!”

The Charlie shouts to *nobody* as the camera fades to black.


Four Hours Later


It’s all fun and games until Dick watches his severed penis get shoved into the exhaust pipe of a speed racer.

So did you like, want a glass of water or something? You’ve been pressing the emergency button nonstop for three minutes.

I need the world to know.

An incessant beeping noise blares out through the nearby hallways as Charlie relentlessly presses a red button set up along the wall.

Sigh….What did you need the world to know?

The Nickleman can never die- only be reborn. Stronger.

Okay...can you stop pressing the emergency alert?

Charlie Nickles pulls his hand away from the big red button on the side of the wall. The two nursing aides look on in disinterested annoyance as Charlie Nickles begins to rant and rave.

“Dick Powers has to die. That’s the only way I can show the world I can stand on my own two fee-FUCK! You know what I fucking mean anyways, god damn it! Dick Powers fucking did this to me!”

Charlie gestures towards his limp legs.

“The world has been laughing at me. Mocking me. Treating me like a joke. This has been the story of my fucking life. No one ever believes I can accomplish anything….until I accomplish it. And then, as soon as they can, the cliques and tricks start to pile dirt and dust upon my achievements. Dick fucking Powers is the final straw….and perfect fucking mouthpiece for all those limpwristed pussies that do nothing but mock my work. When I pull that twisted tongue out of his dirty mouth I’ll know I’m making good progress on silencing all the haters and critics.

He’s a comedian, a jokey kind of a guy. A clown, but the kind of clown people like. The kind of clown people actually want to see, not the kind of clown that comes breaking through their door with a bloody hatchet and a quick make-up job. He’s the kind of guy that represents everything I fucking hate about the XWF:

He’s not a fucking wrestler. He’s just a character that does jokes. He’s not a fucking wrestler. He just demeans and diminshes our entire fucking sport. He’s great on the mic and abyssmal in the ring, so no fucking wonder he’s reduced to flexing about payperview matches he lost. He’s not a wrestler- he’s just given title shot after title shot that he blows like an early load. What a fucking gimp.

His earhole will make a great pussy for my tire iron.”

“What are you talking about?

“My tire iron!”

Charlie pulls out the heavymetalweight championship belt from beneath his hospital gown before lifting it up in the air for the nurses to see.

“Let’s just mark this in the chart….”

“Yeah let’s do that…..”

The two nurses turn and flee the room as Charlie holds the heavymetalweight championship belt high above his wheelchair.

“I won’t ever let him kill me, babygirl. If I do, Uncle Jimson will be watching over you….and we don’t want that.”

Charlie smiled up at the outdated relic of a belt before holding it against his chest like it was a baby. Charlie started to rock the championship belt back and forth as he sung an odd tune to his baby belt as he softly pinned it to his chest...

“01101001 01101110 01100111 01101001 01101110 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110011 01101000 01100001 01100100 01101111 01110111 01110011 01111001 01101111 01110101 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101001 01100001 01101101 01100111 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 01110100 01101111 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 01101111 01100011 01101011 01100101 01110100 01100001 01110100 01110010 01100101 01101100 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101100 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100010 01110101 01110100 01110111 01101000 01111001 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 01111001 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 01101111 01110101 01110100 01100001 01101110 01100100 01100111 01100101 01110100 01101001 01110100 01101110 01101111 01110111 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110011 01101001 01110011 01110011 01111001 01100111 01100001 01111001 01100010 01101111 01111001 00101110!”]]> <![CDATA[The Haunted Chronicles of Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41966 Sat, 25 Sep 2021 23:53:43 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41966

-Part Five-

UNUSUAL SUSPECTS


I stared down the long corridor, feeling the pain in my head returning. I knew what I was in for, but I denied it. I didn’t want to take the steps forward, but I did anyway. I reached the door at the end and opened it…. I wasn’t surprised.

Trevor! It’s about time you’ve shown up! Come right in! Sit down!

I choked on the softball forming in my throat.

The office was scalding hot. An instant stream of sweat flowed down the side of my head and tickled my cheek. The place had a red aura about it… A pale, stagnant haze that blurred my vision. Across the long room, sitting at his desk He sat… Like he always did. I swallowed and stepped forward.

What are you waiting for?!

His voice echoed and made me shutter. I could feel my knees getting weak and almost lost my step several times along the long walk. It felt like I was walking on a treadmill going the opposite direction… I was taking steps but making very little progress forward. My chest became heavy and my eyes were losing interest. Finally, I reach the desk and take a seat on the couch in front of it. He looks at me through the blurriness and haze and smiles.

Hello, Trevor. I’ve been waiting for you.

“Lou…?” I struggled to speak and had to fight off the sudden urge to weep… I held together.

That’s right.

I saw him take a long drag from a cigar and let out a plume of smoke which added to the pollution in the air.

Trevor? Why did you come back?

My body had thoughts of its own and took to the rest of the couch. I lied on my back and stared at the ceiling.

Hello? Doc to Trevor…

While He sat several feet away from me behind the desk I swear I felt His breath on the side of my face. I began to drive to sleep when he snapped his fingers and I felt a shot through me like I got zapped by a defibrillator. My eyes widened and my heart was ready to bail from my chest as I sprung up off the couch and back down… I caught my breath for a moment before recalling the question.

Why did I come back?

“Because I can’t let you do it, Lou.”

My vision was still blurry and I couldn’t tell what crooked facial expression I was getting back from Him now. I reached inside my inner jacket pocket and pulled a derringer from it. I pointed it ahead at the wavy image in front of me.

Do what, Trevor?

He didn’t move. Of course, He didn’t. He wouldn’t. I closed my eyes and I pulled the trigger once.

BANG!

I fired a shot.

I pulled it again!

BANG!

And again and again.

BANG! BANG!

I opened my eyes and He’s gone from his chair.

No.

Now, He stood over me. He grabbed me by the throat and the blurry image of Him picked me up one handed and held me high in the air. I could feel their air leaving my body and I kicked my feet as I struggled for every breath. He held me so high that the ceiling fan above cracked me in the head… Over and over again… Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud….


Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

“Wake the fuck up, Mister!!” Dolly screamed as she slapped the side of my head trying to wake me up.

The blast from the intrusion must’ve knocked me out and we’re still in the midst of the raid. Smoke and debris fill the air as everyone in the room has scattered as they try to escape, but with no luck. I remember the scene in my dream as I escaped, but the door I used wasn’t there. I looked to the doorway to see the same man step through the threshold. It was the last man from the photographs, the head of the XWFPD, Chris Page. He approached Dolly and I who were huddled behind some furniture watching the mayhem unfold.

“You’re all under arrest.” Page said, lowering the sunglasses from his eyes.

Two other officers came up from behind and apprehended us.

“Under what charges?” I can’t help but laugh a little bit through my scoff. But seriously, what charges?

Page pulls his sunglasses back up and takes a couple gnaws at a piece of gum.

“For the murder of Atara Themis. Read ‘em their rights boys.”

We were read the Miranda rights and Dolly and I were cuffed and stuffed. Dolly, Charlie, myself, and the rest of their crew were all taken to the inner XWF district to the jailhouse which was in the basement of the police station. They only had a couple of cells so they had to group us all up, which wasn’t a big deal for most, but I was the odd man out. There was someone in the cell I was thrown into before I got there…

“I WANNA WATCH SILENCE OF THE LAMBS!!!!!!” My cellmate screamed.

He ran up and down the cell, climbing and pulling at the bars like an animal. One of the guards finally came back into the room, turned on the television in the corner of the room, and played Silence of the Lambs.

“Now, shut the fuck up,” says the guard before leaving the room again.

My cellmate sat down on the floor, crossed his legs and stared at the television while the move played. I walked to the side where Dolly was standing.

“This isn’t good,” I said leaning against the side of the cell.

“I don’t know what happened. I hate to believe it, but I think we were sold out,” she said.

Dolly seemed like she didn’t want to admit what she was thinking. I didn’t really care.. It wasn’t my crew, after all. The only problem I was concerned with was getting the hell out of this cell.

We were held for what felt like most of the day. There was no clock in sight, but I knew it was hours and hours. I was watching my cellmate rock back and forth, mumbling to himself, when I heard the lock to the main door unlock. In walked Chris Page and Theo Pryce.

Theo had a smile, but I knew it wasn’t good in nature. It was the kind of smile where you were watched and caught in the act… and punishment was at-hand. Theo walked up and looked at me through the bars.

“Trevor… Didn’t I tell you to go home?” He asked.

I say nothing in return. Page got a chuckle when he made a jump at me which caused me to jump. Theo holds a hand up to get Page to step back behind him.

“I also told you that this situation was handled. And now, within a couple of days of you being here, we have an actual murder on our hands.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Atara was found strangled in her room the night of her last performance. Several witnesses say you were there. I guess you had quite the introduction… Not smart for someone trying to stay under the radar…”

Dammit Fury.

“I had nothing to do with it Theo. Why would I? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s just awfully damn convenient, Trevor. I didn’t like Roxy hunting you down to begin with and now this? We find you hanging around a group of delinquents like this?”

“Hey! Fuck you, Theo!” Dolly yelled from another cell.

“I think it would probably be best if you stayed locked up until some of this is figured out. At the moment, you’re a prime suspect in a murder and a missing persons case,” said Theo as he started walking away.

“I was brought here for the missing person’s case, you idiot. How could I be a suspect?”

“That’s for the XWFPD and Commissioner Page to figure out… As for right now? You’re a PRIMARY suspect. And you’re staying put!”


The Doctor stands in the observation area just as he did before as several nurses walk in and stand around him. They all watch him as he stares at the screen as the Patient continues doing what he’s been… Work tirelessly at scribbling across the papers.

Is it time, Doctor?

He turns to them with a smile.

Any changes to the Patient since the last observation?

None, Doctor. The Patient continues showing signs of aggression. Deliriousness and hallucinations. Agitation and extreme social anxiety. Patient still not deemed ready for person session.

Hmm….

The Doctor turns and faces the screen again scratching his chin.

You see, I beg to differ. I believe a session could be exactly what the Patient needs…

It is highly ill advised that you make contact, Doctor. His irritation seems to grow at the mention of you.

Well, that IS understandable. After all, I am responsible for his captivity, am I not?

He chuckles a bit to himself then proceeds slowly towards the door.

Doctor…

The nurse calls out. He looks back to her and his smile grows wider.

You’re just going to have to trust me, my dear.


I sat with my back against the wall. Nothing to do, but wait, I guess? I was at the mercy of Theo Pryce now, even after I was warned BY HIM to mind my own business. It was after meeting up with that kid and that scumbag Charlie that things went south. All of us ended up in the can and it looked like I hit a dead end. What the hell is that broad paying me for anyway? I’ve barely questioned anyone about her boyfriends disappearance and NOW I’m sitting between bars as a suspect for a murder. A PRIME suspect according to Pryce. I don’t know how the fuck that’s possible… I didn’t even know the dame.

She did try helping me out though. In a quick and subtle way. The note she planted in my jacket during her song read, “WATCH YOUR BACK, DOVE”... So, she was obviously trying to warn me… About who though?

I looked around the cell and saw Dolly sleeping on the bench and Charlie… Actually, forget about Charlie. I walked over to my cellmate who was still fixated on the television screen and took a seat next to him.

“What’re in for?” I asked.

He didn’t flinch or take his eyes from ever forward. The guy didn’t seem to be on the same planet right now. Dolly woke up and wandered over to the bars between our cells.

“No use talking to him,” she goes. “He’s kind of a dummy…”

I waved my hand across his face a couple of times and didn’t even see him blink.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I dunno. He don’t talk much though.”

“Why’s he in here?”

“I dunno that, either, Mister. Page and his boys are always picking people like us and him up for something stupid.”

“Well, yeah, here we are. Locked up for a murder, with no proof, no anything. We need a way out of here, kid.”

“Don’t look at me.”

“You said that people like you get locked up in here all the time?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean I do! What’d you expect that I had some elaborate plan that busts me out of jail any given time? Like I do it all the time?”

“I didn’t know what to expect, kid,” I said, as I walked away from her and looked back to my cellmate on the floor.

Suddenly, there was an explosion in my cell and the wall caved in creating a hole! A siren started going off alerting the guards and the rest of town that there’s a jailbreak in process! A couple of the guards rush in and open the cell door, I head for the opening and Bebop and Rocksteady appear in front of me!

Bobby grabbed ahold of me and threw me uphill over the rubble out of the jailhouse. The guards approached the two bastards and met a barrage of fists from the two big men! One after another the guards were knocked aside from little or no effort! I crawl on the rubble, but I’m apparently not fast enough because Thunder Knuckles grabs me and tucks me under his arm as he walks. The load me into the back of a parked car, throw a bag over my head, and drive me away.


The Doctor took a step into the Patient’s room and let the door shut behind him. No guards accompanied him in, as he refused, and it was much against the staff’s wishes. The Patient was unstable. He was mad. Unpredictable. Violent. They worried very much for the Doctor’s safety, but he had no worries of his own. He stepped ever forward.

The Patient stopped scribbling on the paper. He looked up to the Doctor who now stood just a few short feet away at the table. The Doctor pulled out a chair and took a seat. The Patient… like a feral animal… looked slowly his way and scowled at the sight of him.

Hello, Trevor.

The Doctor smiles and motions towards the chair on the other side of the table.

Won’t you come and sit with me?

The Patient rises up from the floor and hobbles to the table and takes a seat.

How are you, my friend?

The Patient does not answer. He kneels down from the table and grabs a sheet of paper and pencil and begins to scribble.

I see you’ve been very busy as of late. Can I ask what you’ve been writing?

Again, the Patient ignores the Doctor and continues scratching at the paper.

Do you remember the first time we met, Trevor? You were a young, strapping young man. Had the world by its balls. Had the answer to every question in your back pocket. You were unbeatable. You were untouchable. And then the unthinkable happened, didn’t it? In one foul swoop your life was left in shambles and there was nothing to save you from the downward spiral that you were falling into.

Substance became your only out and it only added to your punishment, didn’t it? We both enjoyed sharing a drink from time to time, didn’t we?

When I granted you your freedom and released you of your burdens it was to give you new life. It was to give you a second chance. But that wasn’t enough, was it, Trevor? My help and my generosity were thrown back into my face like they were nothing… And you chose to fight back.

The Patient paused in his writing for a moment and seemed to get lost in his thoughts then went back to the scribbling as if never missing a beat.

I had the Universe within my grasp, do you remember? I had it not just in my grasp, but in a stranglehold! And there wasn’t a single thing anyone could do about it.

Years later, we sit across this table once again. You and I, face to face, with the Universe just out of my reach.

The Patient’s pencil snaps in half. He panics and picks up the end with the point and continues his writing.

You can feel it can’t you? Heh… Well, as you can feel it, I can taste it on my breath. A familiar taste. A taste not long forgotten, my friend.

The Doctor narrows his eyes and studies the Patient.

There’s still a lot that we need to talk about, though, Trevor… Your fascination with this intrigues me, yet… Burdens me… The days of you being the key to this entire mess are far behind us, you know. Your value has since gone down.

The Patient stops writing and slowly looks up to the Doctor with a straight face.

”Then why am I still here?”


After we apparently arrived at our destination, I was basically carried the same way that I was before through a building, up some stairs, down a series of hallways, then sat in a chair. The bag was then removed and I was sitting looking at Big Money Oswald at a dining table eating a barely cooked steak. I looked to my right and caught a fist straight to my jaw! I spit blood as my lip is instantly split open… I look for my attacker and it’s a broad… dressed like she was going on to the finest club in the richest city in the world… Dressed to kill.

“You son of a bitch!” She screams at me before taking Big Money’s side.

“Uhhh…” I was at a slight loss for words.”

“Mister Dedntik… Meet Betsy Granger.” Oswald said as he chewed on a mouthful.

“What is all of this?” I asked a stupid question.

“I told you if I wanted you I knew where to find you, didn’t I?”

The question sounded rhetorical so I chose not to answer. Instead I thanked him for busting me out like he did.

“Well, thanks? I guess?” I still didn’t really know what to say though.

“Oh, don’t thank me. You were safer between bars. I want to know what the fuck happened to Atara, and which one of you dirty pricks took her out.” His tone somehow became deeper and it looked like he wanted to jump through the table and replace his steak with me.

“Look, I have NO idea what happened to the poor girl. Last I saw her was the same as you that night, I would presume that was your last. I watched the show and that’s when you guys picked me up. ”

Betsy looked over to Oswald and took a seat. She sat with an uncomfortable glare in my direction.

“You have to believe me. Look, Miss Granger, with all due respect, I’m here on a mission of my own regarding a missing person. If we have people starting to come up dead; I think we have a much bigger problem on our hands.”

I was thrown from a moving vehicle the last time I was with these guys… I started imagining what my fate could possibly be on my leave this time. Taking the trip here with the bag over my head leaves me looking forward to a surprise.

“I won’t rest until we get to the bottom of this. Atara was one of our own, Oswald… We’re not paying for your protection for this to happen!” Betsy’s back up to her feet and in the boss’s face a bit. It doesn’t falter his motions and he continues to eat away at the steak. He seemed to pay no mind to her aggressive behavior.

“I understand your grievance. Allow me to make it up to you, please. Allow me to find this person who harmed your girl and deliver their head in a box.” Oswald gives a feeble attempt to calm his guest. She stomped her foot and yelled some more.

“I want their head on pike!”

“Or on a pike, whatever you want. I can get pikes. Can we get pikes?” Big Money looked over to the two no good bastards standing in the doorway. Thunder Knuckles shrugged while Bobby Bourbon gave a confident thumbs up.

“See?” Oswald held up his arms as if he was bargaining with her.

“If you don’t, we will.”

She stormed out, knocking me in the head one last time for good measure on her way by. Which now left me with just three maniacs in the room with me. I sat in an uncomfortable silence for what felt like forever and watched Oswald watch me as he continued chomping away at the bloody piece of meat.

“So, what now guys? Wanna go for a drive? Wanna… Maybe drop me off at my room this time?”

Oswald said nothing and just nodded to his two cronies in the doorway. They walked over and I shot a smile over to Oswald who continued glaring at me with his cold stare. It wasn’t another moment when I felt a hard slap to the back of my head and everything went black.


The Ex-Detective wakes up.

I was scared away again, like deja vu, in my room to the loud sound of pounding at my door. I looked around frantically for a moment and realized I was, indeed, in my motel room. How I got here, I haven’t pieced that part together quite yet. I was fully clothed, had all of my belongings, and the back of my head hurt like fuck. I thought to myself that this was a lot better than the side of the road bullshit.

The pounding at my door showed no sign of stopping so I rushed over, unlocked it…. It wasn’t latched…. And opened it to Miss Cotton rushing past me again.

“What the fuck?!” She said as I shut the door and locked it twice behind her.

“Problem?” I asked another stupid question.

“Yes, problem! You know the police are looking for you?”

“Yeah, I figured as much. I did get popped from ail the other day….”

“And you think the motel room that you’ve been staying in since you got here is the best place to hide out?”

“Well, honestly, I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“Gah! Whatever! We need to get out of here!”

“What? Fuck the police. They were in the wrong to begin with. If I can prove, which I can, that I had nothing to do with that murder----”

“Don’t you get it? This was all a set up to get you out of the picture, Trevor! There’s something deep going on with this whole thing and it’s getting more dangerous by the day. Now, Atara….”

“I’m not afraid of these guys, Miss Cotton. Trust me, there’s things bigger than the XWF… Once I can get some more information and figure out a little bit of what’s going on… I can get some bigger guys in here to help clean up the mess.”

I tried to reassure her, but she still seemed extremely paranoid. She really took the threat of these guys seriously, so I decided to go with her to lay low for a bit. I did my business in checking out of the room, gathered my things, and went to meet her outside. It started to rain during our preparation and she mentioned driving the car up to the door for me. What a sweetheart. I still only had my duffle bag and my briefcase so with one in each hand I left the room and watched as Miss Cotton entered her vehicle.

The next few seconds are still a blur. The second the car turned over, the car jumped into the air in a fiery blaze and landed on its roof! I was standing across the parking lot and was still blown back from the blast… He looked around and could already hear the sirens in the distance… It took everything for me to roll around to my hands and knees and the rest to get to my feet. I staggered a couple of steps then lost my footing causing the ground to catch me on the face. I pushed myself back up and staggered some more… My vision is nothing but a blur… I look back to the inferno in the parking lot I’ve left behind… Along with the only real friend I had in this crazy fucking place… Without a direction or a plan, I escape into the woods away from the wreckage.


END OF ACT 1



Que sera, sera.

Here we go again, my friends. The big showdown that everyone is now so disappointed to see. The main event of main events that apparently hardly has a place in a preshow. The ultimate fight that was bringing audiences from all over the globe has fallen on its face. Even though it hasn't happened yet.

I have to give you credit. I can't say you've maintained any type forward progression throughout this whole thing. We went over going backwards nonstop and trying to stay focused forward, but that became the topic of a completely other problem we had about what we're allowed to talk about. Rather than ever forward it looked like you paced around in a circle, forward, backward, left, right, until i chose a direction and you followed it. I take it back, this wasn't a race after all. It was a chase and you were the one doing the chasing.

Que sera, sera.

Everyone has already seemed to count me out of this one already. You're buddy old pal Corey Smith seems to have woken up from his Thad kick and taken an interest in the results of our contest. I wonder if he'll go back on his word about wanting to fight you at Lethal Lottery? Would you do what you did when Lycana beat you and phoenix yourself into Wednesday Warfare and start the cycle all over again? It doesn't matter, I know. Nothing matters. You're Alias. I'm Doc. And until the fireworks are blasting above everyone's heads when the show is over anyone that counts me out is a fool. And, to set the record straight, will fall shortly after all of this is done with our without the Universal Championship.

Que sera, sera.

If I've discovered anything about this lead up is that there are a lot more kinks to that armor of yours than anyone thinks. And, with out a doubt, there's more time mine now than there ever was. But as I said before we are closer to the same than you'd probably like to admit. You've been surviving for months, Alias. I have been surviving for years. And more years to come. My aura will never be diminished and my myth will carry on long after all of this. If you think you've seen my hand already... If you believe you've seen all my tricks then none of you have been really paying attention, have you?

Que sera, sera.]]>

-Part Five-

UNUSUAL SUSPECTS


I stared down the long corridor, feeling the pain in my head returning. I knew what I was in for, but I denied it. I didn’t want to take the steps forward, but I did anyway. I reached the door at the end and opened it…. I wasn’t surprised.

Trevor! It’s about time you’ve shown up! Come right in! Sit down!

I choked on the softball forming in my throat.

The office was scalding hot. An instant stream of sweat flowed down the side of my head and tickled my cheek. The place had a red aura about it… A pale, stagnant haze that blurred my vision. Across the long room, sitting at his desk He sat… Like he always did. I swallowed and stepped forward.

What are you waiting for?!

His voice echoed and made me shutter. I could feel my knees getting weak and almost lost my step several times along the long walk. It felt like I was walking on a treadmill going the opposite direction… I was taking steps but making very little progress forward. My chest became heavy and my eyes were losing interest. Finally, I reach the desk and take a seat on the couch in front of it. He looks at me through the blurriness and haze and smiles.

Hello, Trevor. I’ve been waiting for you.

“Lou…?” I struggled to speak and had to fight off the sudden urge to weep… I held together.

That’s right.

I saw him take a long drag from a cigar and let out a plume of smoke which added to the pollution in the air.

Trevor? Why did you come back?

My body had thoughts of its own and took to the rest of the couch. I lied on my back and stared at the ceiling.

Hello? Doc to Trevor…

While He sat several feet away from me behind the desk I swear I felt His breath on the side of my face. I began to drive to sleep when he snapped his fingers and I felt a shot through me like I got zapped by a defibrillator. My eyes widened and my heart was ready to bail from my chest as I sprung up off the couch and back down… I caught my breath for a moment before recalling the question.

Why did I come back?

“Because I can’t let you do it, Lou.”

My vision was still blurry and I couldn’t tell what crooked facial expression I was getting back from Him now. I reached inside my inner jacket pocket and pulled a derringer from it. I pointed it ahead at the wavy image in front of me.

Do what, Trevor?

He didn’t move. Of course, He didn’t. He wouldn’t. I closed my eyes and I pulled the trigger once.

BANG!

I fired a shot.

I pulled it again!

BANG!

And again and again.

BANG! BANG!

I opened my eyes and He’s gone from his chair.

No.

Now, He stood over me. He grabbed me by the throat and the blurry image of Him picked me up one handed and held me high in the air. I could feel their air leaving my body and I kicked my feet as I struggled for every breath. He held me so high that the ceiling fan above cracked me in the head… Over and over again… Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud….


Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

“Wake the fuck up, Mister!!” Dolly screamed as she slapped the side of my head trying to wake me up.

The blast from the intrusion must’ve knocked me out and we’re still in the midst of the raid. Smoke and debris fill the air as everyone in the room has scattered as they try to escape, but with no luck. I remember the scene in my dream as I escaped, but the door I used wasn’t there. I looked to the doorway to see the same man step through the threshold. It was the last man from the photographs, the head of the XWFPD, Chris Page. He approached Dolly and I who were huddled behind some furniture watching the mayhem unfold.

“You’re all under arrest.” Page said, lowering the sunglasses from his eyes.

Two other officers came up from behind and apprehended us.

“Under what charges?” I can’t help but laugh a little bit through my scoff. But seriously, what charges?

Page pulls his sunglasses back up and takes a couple gnaws at a piece of gum.

“For the murder of Atara Themis. Read ‘em their rights boys.”

We were read the Miranda rights and Dolly and I were cuffed and stuffed. Dolly, Charlie, myself, and the rest of their crew were all taken to the inner XWF district to the jailhouse which was in the basement of the police station. They only had a couple of cells so they had to group us all up, which wasn’t a big deal for most, but I was the odd man out. There was someone in the cell I was thrown into before I got there…

“I WANNA WATCH SILENCE OF THE LAMBS!!!!!!” My cellmate screamed.

He ran up and down the cell, climbing and pulling at the bars like an animal. One of the guards finally came back into the room, turned on the television in the corner of the room, and played Silence of the Lambs.

“Now, shut the fuck up,” says the guard before leaving the room again.

My cellmate sat down on the floor, crossed his legs and stared at the television while the move played. I walked to the side where Dolly was standing.

“This isn’t good,” I said leaning against the side of the cell.

“I don’t know what happened. I hate to believe it, but I think we were sold out,” she said.

Dolly seemed like she didn’t want to admit what she was thinking. I didn’t really care.. It wasn’t my crew, after all. The only problem I was concerned with was getting the hell out of this cell.

We were held for what felt like most of the day. There was no clock in sight, but I knew it was hours and hours. I was watching my cellmate rock back and forth, mumbling to himself, when I heard the lock to the main door unlock. In walked Chris Page and Theo Pryce.

Theo had a smile, but I knew it wasn’t good in nature. It was the kind of smile where you were watched and caught in the act… and punishment was at-hand. Theo walked up and looked at me through the bars.

“Trevor… Didn’t I tell you to go home?” He asked.

I say nothing in return. Page got a chuckle when he made a jump at me which caused me to jump. Theo holds a hand up to get Page to step back behind him.

“I also told you that this situation was handled. And now, within a couple of days of you being here, we have an actual murder on our hands.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Atara was found strangled in her room the night of her last performance. Several witnesses say you were there. I guess you had quite the introduction… Not smart for someone trying to stay under the radar…”

Dammit Fury.

“I had nothing to do with it Theo. Why would I? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s just awfully damn convenient, Trevor. I didn’t like Roxy hunting you down to begin with and now this? We find you hanging around a group of delinquents like this?”

“Hey! Fuck you, Theo!” Dolly yelled from another cell.

“I think it would probably be best if you stayed locked up until some of this is figured out. At the moment, you’re a prime suspect in a murder and a missing persons case,” said Theo as he started walking away.

“I was brought here for the missing person’s case, you idiot. How could I be a suspect?”

“That’s for the XWFPD and Commissioner Page to figure out… As for right now? You’re a PRIMARY suspect. And you’re staying put!”


The Doctor stands in the observation area just as he did before as several nurses walk in and stand around him. They all watch him as he stares at the screen as the Patient continues doing what he’s been… Work tirelessly at scribbling across the papers.

Is it time, Doctor?

He turns to them with a smile.

Any changes to the Patient since the last observation?

None, Doctor. The Patient continues showing signs of aggression. Deliriousness and hallucinations. Agitation and extreme social anxiety. Patient still not deemed ready for person session.

Hmm….

The Doctor turns and faces the screen again scratching his chin.

You see, I beg to differ. I believe a session could be exactly what the Patient needs…

It is highly ill advised that you make contact, Doctor. His irritation seems to grow at the mention of you.

Well, that IS understandable. After all, I am responsible for his captivity, am I not?

He chuckles a bit to himself then proceeds slowly towards the door.

Doctor…

The nurse calls out. He looks back to her and his smile grows wider.

You’re just going to have to trust me, my dear.


I sat with my back against the wall. Nothing to do, but wait, I guess? I was at the mercy of Theo Pryce now, even after I was warned BY HIM to mind my own business. It was after meeting up with that kid and that scumbag Charlie that things went south. All of us ended up in the can and it looked like I hit a dead end. What the hell is that broad paying me for anyway? I’ve barely questioned anyone about her boyfriends disappearance and NOW I’m sitting between bars as a suspect for a murder. A PRIME suspect according to Pryce. I don’t know how the fuck that’s possible… I didn’t even know the dame.

She did try helping me out though. In a quick and subtle way. The note she planted in my jacket during her song read, “WATCH YOUR BACK, DOVE”... So, she was obviously trying to warn me… About who though?

I looked around the cell and saw Dolly sleeping on the bench and Charlie… Actually, forget about Charlie. I walked over to my cellmate who was still fixated on the television screen and took a seat next to him.

“What’re in for?” I asked.

He didn’t flinch or take his eyes from ever forward. The guy didn’t seem to be on the same planet right now. Dolly woke up and wandered over to the bars between our cells.

“No use talking to him,” she goes. “He’s kind of a dummy…”

I waved my hand across his face a couple of times and didn’t even see him blink.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I dunno. He don’t talk much though.”

“Why’s he in here?”

“I dunno that, either, Mister. Page and his boys are always picking people like us and him up for something stupid.”

“Well, yeah, here we are. Locked up for a murder, with no proof, no anything. We need a way out of here, kid.”

“Don’t look at me.”

“You said that people like you get locked up in here all the time?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean I do! What’d you expect that I had some elaborate plan that busts me out of jail any given time? Like I do it all the time?”

“I didn’t know what to expect, kid,” I said, as I walked away from her and looked back to my cellmate on the floor.

Suddenly, there was an explosion in my cell and the wall caved in creating a hole! A siren started going off alerting the guards and the rest of town that there’s a jailbreak in process! A couple of the guards rush in and open the cell door, I head for the opening and Bebop and Rocksteady appear in front of me!

Bobby grabbed ahold of me and threw me uphill over the rubble out of the jailhouse. The guards approached the two bastards and met a barrage of fists from the two big men! One after another the guards were knocked aside from little or no effort! I crawl on the rubble, but I’m apparently not fast enough because Thunder Knuckles grabs me and tucks me under his arm as he walks. The load me into the back of a parked car, throw a bag over my head, and drive me away.


The Doctor took a step into the Patient’s room and let the door shut behind him. No guards accompanied him in, as he refused, and it was much against the staff’s wishes. The Patient was unstable. He was mad. Unpredictable. Violent. They worried very much for the Doctor’s safety, but he had no worries of his own. He stepped ever forward.

The Patient stopped scribbling on the paper. He looked up to the Doctor who now stood just a few short feet away at the table. The Doctor pulled out a chair and took a seat. The Patient… like a feral animal… looked slowly his way and scowled at the sight of him.

Hello, Trevor.

The Doctor smiles and motions towards the chair on the other side of the table.

Won’t you come and sit with me?

The Patient rises up from the floor and hobbles to the table and takes a seat.

How are you, my friend?

The Patient does not answer. He kneels down from the table and grabs a sheet of paper and pencil and begins to scribble.

I see you’ve been very busy as of late. Can I ask what you’ve been writing?

Again, the Patient ignores the Doctor and continues scratching at the paper.

Do you remember the first time we met, Trevor? You were a young, strapping young man. Had the world by its balls. Had the answer to every question in your back pocket. You were unbeatable. You were untouchable. And then the unthinkable happened, didn’t it? In one foul swoop your life was left in shambles and there was nothing to save you from the downward spiral that you were falling into.

Substance became your only out and it only added to your punishment, didn’t it? We both enjoyed sharing a drink from time to time, didn’t we?

When I granted you your freedom and released you of your burdens it was to give you new life. It was to give you a second chance. But that wasn’t enough, was it, Trevor? My help and my generosity were thrown back into my face like they were nothing… And you chose to fight back.

The Patient paused in his writing for a moment and seemed to get lost in his thoughts then went back to the scribbling as if never missing a beat.

I had the Universe within my grasp, do you remember? I had it not just in my grasp, but in a stranglehold! And there wasn’t a single thing anyone could do about it.

Years later, we sit across this table once again. You and I, face to face, with the Universe just out of my reach.

The Patient’s pencil snaps in half. He panics and picks up the end with the point and continues his writing.

You can feel it can’t you? Heh… Well, as you can feel it, I can taste it on my breath. A familiar taste. A taste not long forgotten, my friend.

The Doctor narrows his eyes and studies the Patient.

There’s still a lot that we need to talk about, though, Trevor… Your fascination with this intrigues me, yet… Burdens me… The days of you being the key to this entire mess are far behind us, you know. Your value has since gone down.

The Patient stops writing and slowly looks up to the Doctor with a straight face.

”Then why am I still here?”


After we apparently arrived at our destination, I was basically carried the same way that I was before through a building, up some stairs, down a series of hallways, then sat in a chair. The bag was then removed and I was sitting looking at Big Money Oswald at a dining table eating a barely cooked steak. I looked to my right and caught a fist straight to my jaw! I spit blood as my lip is instantly split open… I look for my attacker and it’s a broad… dressed like she was going on to the finest club in the richest city in the world… Dressed to kill.

“You son of a bitch!” She screams at me before taking Big Money’s side.

“Uhhh…” I was at a slight loss for words.”

“Mister Dedntik… Meet Betsy Granger.” Oswald said as he chewed on a mouthful.

“What is all of this?” I asked a stupid question.

“I told you if I wanted you I knew where to find you, didn’t I?”

The question sounded rhetorical so I chose not to answer. Instead I thanked him for busting me out like he did.

“Well, thanks? I guess?” I still didn’t really know what to say though.

“Oh, don’t thank me. You were safer between bars. I want to know what the fuck happened to Atara, and which one of you dirty pricks took her out.” His tone somehow became deeper and it looked like he wanted to jump through the table and replace his steak with me.

“Look, I have NO idea what happened to the poor girl. Last I saw her was the same as you that night, I would presume that was your last. I watched the show and that’s when you guys picked me up. ”

Betsy looked over to Oswald and took a seat. She sat with an uncomfortable glare in my direction.

“You have to believe me. Look, Miss Granger, with all due respect, I’m here on a mission of my own regarding a missing person. If we have people starting to come up dead; I think we have a much bigger problem on our hands.”

I was thrown from a moving vehicle the last time I was with these guys… I started imagining what my fate could possibly be on my leave this time. Taking the trip here with the bag over my head leaves me looking forward to a surprise.

“I won’t rest until we get to the bottom of this. Atara was one of our own, Oswald… We’re not paying for your protection for this to happen!” Betsy’s back up to her feet and in the boss’s face a bit. It doesn’t falter his motions and he continues to eat away at the steak. He seemed to pay no mind to her aggressive behavior.

“I understand your grievance. Allow me to make it up to you, please. Allow me to find this person who harmed your girl and deliver their head in a box.” Oswald gives a feeble attempt to calm his guest. She stomped her foot and yelled some more.

“I want their head on pike!”

“Or on a pike, whatever you want. I can get pikes. Can we get pikes?” Big Money looked over to the two no good bastards standing in the doorway. Thunder Knuckles shrugged while Bobby Bourbon gave a confident thumbs up.

“See?” Oswald held up his arms as if he was bargaining with her.

“If you don’t, we will.”

She stormed out, knocking me in the head one last time for good measure on her way by. Which now left me with just three maniacs in the room with me. I sat in an uncomfortable silence for what felt like forever and watched Oswald watch me as he continued chomping away at the bloody piece of meat.

“So, what now guys? Wanna go for a drive? Wanna… Maybe drop me off at my room this time?”

Oswald said nothing and just nodded to his two cronies in the doorway. They walked over and I shot a smile over to Oswald who continued glaring at me with his cold stare. It wasn’t another moment when I felt a hard slap to the back of my head and everything went black.


The Ex-Detective wakes up.

I was scared away again, like deja vu, in my room to the loud sound of pounding at my door. I looked around frantically for a moment and realized I was, indeed, in my motel room. How I got here, I haven’t pieced that part together quite yet. I was fully clothed, had all of my belongings, and the back of my head hurt like fuck. I thought to myself that this was a lot better than the side of the road bullshit.

The pounding at my door showed no sign of stopping so I rushed over, unlocked it…. It wasn’t latched…. And opened it to Miss Cotton rushing past me again.

“What the fuck?!” She said as I shut the door and locked it twice behind her.

“Problem?” I asked another stupid question.

“Yes, problem! You know the police are looking for you?”

“Yeah, I figured as much. I did get popped from ail the other day….”

“And you think the motel room that you’ve been staying in since you got here is the best place to hide out?”

“Well, honestly, I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“Gah! Whatever! We need to get out of here!”

“What? Fuck the police. They were in the wrong to begin with. If I can prove, which I can, that I had nothing to do with that murder----”

“Don’t you get it? This was all a set up to get you out of the picture, Trevor! There’s something deep going on with this whole thing and it’s getting more dangerous by the day. Now, Atara….”

“I’m not afraid of these guys, Miss Cotton. Trust me, there’s things bigger than the XWF… Once I can get some more information and figure out a little bit of what’s going on… I can get some bigger guys in here to help clean up the mess.”

I tried to reassure her, but she still seemed extremely paranoid. She really took the threat of these guys seriously, so I decided to go with her to lay low for a bit. I did my business in checking out of the room, gathered my things, and went to meet her outside. It started to rain during our preparation and she mentioned driving the car up to the door for me. What a sweetheart. I still only had my duffle bag and my briefcase so with one in each hand I left the room and watched as Miss Cotton entered her vehicle.

The next few seconds are still a blur. The second the car turned over, the car jumped into the air in a fiery blaze and landed on its roof! I was standing across the parking lot and was still blown back from the blast… He looked around and could already hear the sirens in the distance… It took everything for me to roll around to my hands and knees and the rest to get to my feet. I staggered a couple of steps then lost my footing causing the ground to catch me on the face. I pushed myself back up and staggered some more… My vision is nothing but a blur… I look back to the inferno in the parking lot I’ve left behind… Along with the only real friend I had in this crazy fucking place… Without a direction or a plan, I escape into the woods away from the wreckage.


END OF ACT 1



Que sera, sera.

Here we go again, my friends. The big showdown that everyone is now so disappointed to see. The main event of main events that apparently hardly has a place in a preshow. The ultimate fight that was bringing audiences from all over the globe has fallen on its face. Even though it hasn't happened yet.

I have to give you credit. I can't say you've maintained any type forward progression throughout this whole thing. We went over going backwards nonstop and trying to stay focused forward, but that became the topic of a completely other problem we had about what we're allowed to talk about. Rather than ever forward it looked like you paced around in a circle, forward, backward, left, right, until i chose a direction and you followed it. I take it back, this wasn't a race after all. It was a chase and you were the one doing the chasing.

Que sera, sera.

Everyone has already seemed to count me out of this one already. You're buddy old pal Corey Smith seems to have woken up from his Thad kick and taken an interest in the results of our contest. I wonder if he'll go back on his word about wanting to fight you at Lethal Lottery? Would you do what you did when Lycana beat you and phoenix yourself into Wednesday Warfare and start the cycle all over again? It doesn't matter, I know. Nothing matters. You're Alias. I'm Doc. And until the fireworks are blasting above everyone's heads when the show is over anyone that counts me out is a fool. And, to set the record straight, will fall shortly after all of this is done with our without the Universal Championship.

Que sera, sera.

If I've discovered anything about this lead up is that there are a lot more kinks to that armor of yours than anyone thinks. And, with out a doubt, there's more time mine now than there ever was. But as I said before we are closer to the same than you'd probably like to admit. You've been surviving for months, Alias. I have been surviving for years. And more years to come. My aura will never be diminished and my myth will carry on long after all of this. If you think you've seen my hand already... If you believe you've seen all my tricks then none of you have been really paying attention, have you?

Que sera, sera.]]> <![CDATA[Lionheart & Soul - Part 3: RP #3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41965 Sat, 25 Sep 2021 22:33:58 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41965
DAYS AGO


Woolworth Tower || Tribeca – New York City || 7:16 PM

Lowering the pistol to my side, I lean down and cradle Jim’s head in my left arm while sobbing nearly uncontrollably into his left shoulder. I wanted to take his pain away so much. To see him laying here barely able to move and mostly unable to function is killing me inside. It’s excruciating for me and I’m only a bystander. Whatever I’m going through, it pales in comparison to what he’s going through. Even still, I couldn’t shoot him in the head as if he were a horse with a broken leg. He deserves more respect and dignity than that.

”I’m sorry Jim,” I say through my sobs as the nurse rushes in.

”What happened!?” she cries out with worry.

”Just get the fuck out of here,” I reply to her quietly, not removing my head from Jim’s shoulder and certainly not wanting to let go of my hug.

”Is there something I can...”

Listen, I realize she’s just doing her job, but I couldn’t see that at the time. Out of anger and frustration, I spin around to face her. With my face beet red, my eyes swollen and tears steadily rolling down my face, I lash out.

”WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ABOUT GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!?” I ask her angrily before she quickly retreats out of the room.

”Mate…. She was just….. startled,” he advises me as I spin back around to him.

”I know, I just...” I cut myself off as I wipe the tears from my eyes and face while still holding the pistol. ”I just need to be here with you until...”

”I know,” he says quietly with a nod.

”Anyway, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that,” I say to him while attempting to recompose myself. ”I’ve killed a lot of people in the last five years but never once have I killed anyone I love.”

”I know,” he says quietly. ”I shouldn’t have……. Put you…… in that position….. I’m sorry.”

Unreal.

He’s the one suffering and dying, yet he’s the one apologizing to [/i]me.[/i]

”Don’t be sorry for anything,” I tell him. ”I just couldn’t have my lasting image of you to be your brains splattered on the wall and I’m the one that put ‘em there.”

He nods his understanding.

”If there was another way, I’d...”

”There is,” he interrupts. ”Another way,” he says after a breath.

He and I stare at each other a moment before he turns his head slightly and eyes the morphine drip.

”That won’t go high enough to kill you,” I inform him and he nods his understanding. ”All it’ll do is knock you out like you have been for the last couple weeks.”

”I know,” he says with his labored breathing. Lifting his left arm a little, he points to a medical cart resting against the wall. ”But there’s…….. syringes in……… the cart,” he stops talking for several seconds to catch his breath that isn’t coming, even with the oxygen mask attached to his face. ”Grab a couple……….. open the door,” he says, eyeballing the small door on the drip machine. Behind the door is the bag of morphine. ”Fill them up………….. and stick it in me….”

”Jim, I wouldn’t even know how much would stop your heart,” I plead with him in an effort to get him to stop asking me to kill him.

”She gives me…..” he pinches his fingers close together. ”This much……….. to help the pain.”

”I thought you said you felt the pain even when you’re unconscious,” I remind him.

”I think she……..” he begins with a confirming nod. ”Knocks me out……. So she doesn’t…… have to hear me.”

”Even still,” I continue to protest. ”I wouldn’t know how much to...”

”Fill two,” he pleads. ”Inject both.”

”Jim that’ll give you a massive heart attack,” I protest again.

”That’s the,” he begins, trying to smile. ”Whole point,” he concludes.

Turning my head to look at the cart, I finally relent. ”What if it hurts?” I ask of him as I retrieve a couple syringes and open the little door on the morphine pump.

”It can’t hurt……… more than……… it does now,” he replies with a considerable pause as he begins to smile a little. ”And then…….. it’ll be over………… peace.”

Hesitating while I fight the urge to just exit the room and leave Jim laying here, the first syringe is just an inch or two away from puncturing the bag.


PRESENT DAY


Landing on board the aircraft carrier Vengeance and coming to a full stop way faster than I’m used to, I just about sprain my neck from the whiplash. Opening the canopy, I step out of the jet and climb down the ladder to the deck surface while the crewmen work hard and fast to replenish and refuel all of the aircraft.

In deep thought, I retreat toward the mess hall. On my way there, I can’t help but smile as Jim intercepts my path.

”How’d it go mate?” he asks, returning a smile.

”Four or five were sunk in total and our fleet hasn’t even reached them yet,” I inform him as we walk and talk. ”At the risk of sounding entirely cocky, this might be way too easy.”

No sooner do I finish my statement and I can hear the sound of deck cannons being cleared coming across the water.

”I think the fleet has arrived,” he says with a smile as we both turn our attention toward the sea. Aborting our mission to head to the mess, he and I rush over toward the side of the carrier in order to watch for a minute. As we arrive at the railing, the evidence is clear as day as small fireballs shoot from our ships toward theirs.

”Wait,” I say with a scrunched up face. ”Where the hell is the Godzilla?”

Jim and I scan the surface for the gigantic all black warship with its supposedly impenetrable hull.

”There!” Jim calls out, pointing to the other side of the carrier.

”Well why the fuck is she so far behind?” I inquire to my greatest friend.

”You gotta remember, mate,” he begins his answer. ”She’s big, powerful and strong.”

”The trade off was speed,” I complete his thought.

”Right,” he confirms. ”Plus she’s turning, so she appears even slower than she really is.”

”Sir!” calls out the High Admiral of the Navy. Turning in his direction, I can see him at almost a sprint as he comes toward me. ”Leviathan is in trouble,” he informs me as we hear an extremely loud explosion off in the distance. The three of us look out to sea and one of the Ares Project ships breaks apart on the surface before the Atlantic quickly swallows her up.

”What’s the problem?” I ask, returning my attention to the Admiral.

”She’s stuck in the reef,” he replies. ”She was outrunning the enemy and didn’t realize they were running right into a reef and they have to surface.”

”If they surface again, the Ares Project fleet will sink her,” I advise him and he nods in agreement.

”We’ve already turned Godzilla in their direction with the intent to head off the enemy fleet before they can catch her,” he informs me and I nod my approval.

”Can they back up?”

”If they do that, they’re reversing course right underneath the enemy ship,” he replies with worry.

”So their only option is to stay put and hope Godzilla gets there in time,” I conclude on my own while the Admiral nods his confirmation. ”FUCK!”

”It’s worse than that,” the Admiral advises. ”The water there is fairly shallow and the enemy is using depth charges to find her and force her to the surface.”

Another series of explosions come from the sea battle. Looking briefly, two of my ships are going down. The cruiser Judgment and the destroyer Thunder.

”They’re starting to even the score mate,” Jim interjects.

Once the Judgment is under water, it becomes clear we got one of theirs too. Six of their ships remain with a seventh chasing Leviathan to six of ours, not including Godzilla who is racing toward Leviathan’s position.

”No, they’re already even,” I say aloud in response to Jim.

”What’s even?” the Admiral asks and I look at him briefly before looking back out to sea.

”Nothing,” I reply, covering my own ass. ”I was just thinking out loud.”

”Sir!” interrupts my air force General. ”They’re ready for you,” he informs me, referring to the flight crew.

Time to go back up. Eyeballing a Jim a moment, I just stay quiet.

”Come back in one piece again, will you mate?” he asks.

In return, I just smile and nod before rushing back toward my plane. I really did have to piss, that’s why I was headed toward the mess hall to begin with because it has the closest latrine. Instead, my bladder will have to wait. As I near the flight deck, the first of the bombers takes off. In contrast to the first wave of this mission which was an offensive assault on the Ares Project fleet, this one is defensive in nature. This time, we provide covering fire for the bombers.

Climbing the ladder to board my jet, another bomber is up and away with another racing down the runway.

Now its my turn.

Closing the canopy, I close my eyes a moment and think of Jim.

”You here?” I ask as I pull my helmet on and secure my mask.

”Of course I’m here,” he answers over my radio.

”It’s really not the same without you fighting alongside me bro,” I admit to him. ”It just doesn’t have the same… I don’t know the word for it.”

”LeoCor, you’re clear for launch,” comes the call over the radio.

”Pizzazz?” he questions. ”Panache?”

”Ha! Yeah we’ll go with that one,” I reply with a smile. With the push of a button, my jet shoots down the runway and once more, I’m airborne.

”What’s it like taking off from a carrier?” he asks.

”Faster,” I answer with a chuckle.

”Sir, the enemy has forced Leviathan to the surface,” comes the call from the High Admiral.

”Alright Jim, I gotta go for awhile,” I inform him. ”I’ll see you when I’m through.”

”Wouldn’t miss it,” he replies. ”Stay safe mate.”

Looking out my left side, I can see Leviathan as she breaches the surface. I can also see the enemy ship trying to use deck guns on her like idiots. The rounds are gonna batter her up, but they’re not gonna sink her. Pointing my nose toward the enemy ship, I fire a missile.

”Fox One!” I call out as the streak of light flies off toward the bow of the ship. It strikes the side and causes its crewmen to jump out of the way, but they work quickly to regain their feet and prepare torpedoes. I was aiming for the deck and their stack of torpedoes but I didn’t wait for my weapons system to lock on the target.

Swinging out and around to my right, I see Godzilla closing in fast on the enemy. She begins clearing her deck cannons and the enemy does the same. Each shell from the enemy bounces off the great ship barely even rocking her on her keel, just as I was promised. The enemy aims higher, toward the superstructure of the black battleship. They pelt her with rounds, trying to take out the men and women contained within rather than taking out the ship since they just learned they don’t have the fire power to sink her.

What they don’t know, is that the crew of that ship works either on or below decks. The superstructure on it only exists for aesthetic reasons. It probably sounds stupid, but think of a ship with no superstructure. Now that’s silly.

”What the fuck?” I say aloud to myself. ”They’re not even slowing down.” Below me, I keep a watchful eye on the action as my incoming missile warnings go off. Nonchalantly I drop flares and keep on flying around, watching as Godzilla steers her bow right into the side of Leviathan’s tormentor. Not in time though as the enemy ship fired a pair of torpedoes.

Leviathan tries to dive and avert disaster, but it’s all for naught. Seconds after Leviathan slips beneath the waves, the aftershock of her exploding is evident on the surface.

”God dammit,” I say aloud to myself. Leviathan’s crew will not have gone down in vain. Her sacrifices will be felt and acknowledged as heroic for generations. She lead the enemy right into the trap and their ships are going down left and right. With them, McGovern’s fighting men.

The attacking ship was practically split in two by Godzilla but her bow is jammed within the hull of the enemy as my fuel warning sounds. Back to the carrier I go.


DAYS AGO


After filling the syringes with the potent Morphine, I sit beside his bed just looking at him. Months ago, I watched my mother die. I tried hard to get to her and to stop my dad from doing what he did but I was powerless. It was the past and as Stephen King put it in some of his writing, “the past is obdurate, it doesn’t want to be changed.” Anytime I took a step forward, I’d get run into or knocked down and fall back two.

I feel now much the same way I did then. No matter how you slice it, no matter whether the cancer takes him, a lethal dose of morphine does it, or a bullet in his brain, there’s no stopping it. Today, tomorrow, a week, a month, Jim will die and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Death bargains with no one.

It waits for no one.

Setting the syringes down on the tray table, I pick up his hand and hold it to my cheek. His dying blue eyes look into mine.

”I don’t know if I can do it,” I admit to him quietly. ”You’re leaving and I don’t know how to deal with that. I don’t know how to give you that cocktail and just carry on like nothing happened. Like I didn’t do it.”

”You’re the…….. most courageous person…….. I’ve ever known,” he begins before attempting to unsuccessfully clear his throat. ”You can do…….. anything you……. Put your mind to.”

”This is different,” I argue. ”It’s easy when its them or me. This is just… it’s just you.”

With his hand still against my cheek, he weakly grabs my hair and pulls my head to his upper chest. Not resisting him, I just lay there. It’s in this moment, that I think I get it.

”You hear that?” he asks. Silently, I nod and continue to listen. With each breath he takes his lungs gurgle almost as if he were drowning. His heart beat is arrhythmic will no discernible pattern. ”Each breath…….. is a dull dagger……… my heart races…….. like trying to……. Escape its fate.”

Lifting my head from his chest I look at him silently for a moment, then nod once. It really is mercy. Giving into his desires to end his life, in a way, beats the cancer that’s trying it’s damnedest to kill him. I think it’s ingrained in human DNA to want to have a say, to have control over what happens when we die. Most of us never have to give it thought and we die peacefully in our sleep. Jim, and the millions of people around the world just like him that have to struggle in their waning days, in a way, I suppose, this is his way of denying his disease the right to kill him.

How could I deny him that right? He was dealt a shit hand by his maker but that doesn’t mean he can’t have the last laugh and steal death from his cancers grip. Contrary to popular opinion, cancer never wins, it’s almost always a draw. The only way to victory when your cancer is terminal and inoperable? Kill the cancer before it kills you. And the only way to do that is by taking matters into your own hands.

With tears steady rolling now, I pick up the syringes. I remember talking to his doctor back in Connecticut. The maximum amount of morphine he was allowed in an entire day was 50mg due to fears that he’d accidentally overdose. As if death by accidental overdose is somehow more traumatic than terminal cancer.

In my hands, is four times the allowable daily limit and about to be injected into him all at one time. “Maybe we should consult with someone first,” I suggest. He just looks at me. ”I mean, what if it’s not enough and you just lay there suffering in your unconscious state?”

Lifting his arm from his side, he just points at the heart monitor.

”Good point,” I relent with a sigh. Mustering all the strength he can, he makes a fist. Grabbing his closed fist I point the first syringe to his bulging vein and pause, and look up at him. He nods. With the never ending tears in my eyes, I stop hesitating and drive the needle into his skin, injecting the poison.

Then I do the same with the second.

Sitting with his hand in mine, he smiles at me.

”Thank you,” he says quietly, with tears in his own eyes. ”For everything.”

”I’ll miss you,” I say while choking back my emotion that’s intent on coming out whether I want it to or not.

”I know,” he says with a smile.

Just a few seconds later his heart rate is growing erratic and he squeezes my hand as hard as he can.

”I’m free, Thad,” he says as his eyes roll back in his head a moment before he falls unconscious. The alarms on his vital monitors start going crazy with beeps and bells. His heart monitor is spiking heavily as the nurse rushes in.

”Sir! Move aside!” she instructs me.

”That won’t be necessary,” I inform her coldly just before she takes a step forward. ”NOT ANOTHER STEP!”

”He has no DNR and no living will,” she informs me as she takes that step. ”I have a duty to try and save him!” She cries out as she rounds my back. ”What’d you do?” she asks, spying the two syringes on the tray table.

Not wanting to argue with her, I pull my pistol from my thigh and backhand her in the temple. She falls groggily to the floor. His grip on my hand is so tight now and his body shakes a bit involuntarily. In the moment, seconds crawl by at a snails pace but in real time, it’s all over quickly.

[Image: IKcP7KA.gif]


Just like that, James Edwards ceases to exist.

”I love you Jim,” I say quietly as I sob quiet tears into his chest.


PRESENT DAY


Back on board the Vengeance, I sit upon the deck and watch as the last of our bombs are dropped on the Ares Project fleet. They’re down to just two ships still afloat. Whatever anti-aircraft firepower they might have had aboard their vessels was never going to be enough without proper training. With Godzilla still locked in the hull of Leviathan’s killer, and what’s left of their fleet in retreat, I can rest soundly but with one eye open. The battle is won, but the war isn’t yet over. Intelligence suggests that General McGovern, like the coward he is, did not accompany his fleet. The war doesn’t end until McGovern rots in the ground.

”It was a good day for the Illuminatus military,” Jim says as he sits beside me and hands me a cigar.

”Not so good for them,” I say with a smile as we light up and take a puff.

”You gotta stay on ‘em now,” he advises. ”They’ll lick their wounds and regroup. Come at us again.”

”Is it still us?” I ask, turning my head in his direction.

”Loyal friend and servant to the only King that ever mattered, for all eternity,” he says with an exhale of smoke. ”Or until you die. It’s one of the two,” he says, causing me to chuckle.

”If you hadn’t been here...”

”I know...”

”What do I do when you’re not?”

”If I’m not here, there’s a reason for it,” he suggests with a nod.

”They’re turning back,” I say aloud as I look off toward the sea. Jim darts his head toward the pair of enemy ships. ”They’re goin’ after Godzilla,” I say excitedly as I jump back on my feet.

”Godzilla is a sitting duck,” Jim states the obvious.

”Impenetrable hull and whatnot?”

”You really gonna trust that?” he asks.

The others in my fleet have started their way back toward the carrier as we devise a plan to free Godzilla from her lodging amid the enemy vessel.

”Take a chopper and...”

”And the WarHammer,” I complete his thought.

It doesn’t take long to get ready. Just a few minutes. In the meantime my fleet was ordered back to the kill zone to protect Godzilla. If I have my way though, they won’t fire another shot. Lifting off from the flight deck, me and the flight crew make quick work in preparing. The protective gear is heavy and the recoil when you fire that weapon is fierce. So we make do with what we have by strapping me to the interior top and bottom of the helicopter.

Just as I’m secured in the belly, its go time. Aiming the megaweapon, I pull the trigger and had I not been strapped in, I definitely would have been thrown out the other side. The baby nuclear warhead impacts the broadside of the first pursuing ship and quite literally blows it out of the water.

Handing the first weapon off to one member of the flight crew, a second hands me another weapon, fully locked, loaded and ready to go. Looking through the crosshairs I can see the remaining ship trying to flee and fire toward its stern. A second later, the warhead strikes the ship, blowing it to pieces.

”Holy shit,” I say with a smile. ”Should’ve just used those fuckers and saved ourselves a whole lot of lives.”

”That was kind of epic, mate,” Jim says as he stands beside me while the crew detaches me from the straps. ”I hope you don’t mind me being here, I kinda wanted to see this one firsthand.”

”You can join me any time,” I say with a smile. Looking out the craft at Godzilla, the shockwave from the two blasts sent large waves toward her, finishing off the enemy ship in which she’s lodged. The Bow section falls away and the stern follows soon after, freeing the mammoth warship.

Taking a seat after a job well done, Jim sits beside me.

”What’s it like?” I ask of him and he just stares at me. ”I mean, on the other side?”

”I knew what you meant,” he replies quickly. ”It’s pretty boring.”

”I’m not there, I could only imagine how boring it is,” I say jokingly causing him to chuckle.

”It’s about time for me to go mate.”

”I miss you bro,” I admit to him as a tear rolls down.

”I know,” he says with a smile.

Not realizing what I was doing, I look across the aircraft at the flight crew. The three men stare at me in confusion. Looking to my left, Jim is gone and at once I’m filled with deep sadness and a sense of loss. I don’t think I’ll shake that feeling for a very long time. He played an integral role in shaping who I am today, for better or for worse.

I’ve never felt this lost, this empty, in my entire life and y’all even know who my dad is. Maybe this is me having to pay what I owe for the bad things I’ve done in my life. I’m not a saint and I never have been. I’ve never even claimed to be one. I’ve done some terribly ruthless things in my life and 99% it is war related. It was always about survival and defending the Illuminatus’ right to exist. That’s never stopped anyone from passing judgment on me and the things I do.

Their opinions though, mean nothing to me.

This is my way of life and things are different here. I don’t expect anyone to really understand. So, they can continue to pass their judgments. They can label me a killer or a war criminal, none of it matters. The only thing that matters is victory.


As I stand here today, the night before the final night of Relentless, the Hart Championship is officially retired. When I sought it, when I won it, my goal was to make it mean something again. My goal was always to make the Hart Championship the prize it used to be and not the prop it became since the day Centurion lost it in the summer of 2020.

As I stand here today, I did make the Hart title mean something again. I did make the Hart title a legitimate prize to be sought after, to be won. I took a championship that the last half dozen or so holders made a laughing stock, and made it one of the premier attractions on the final night of the biggest show of the year.

If y’all haven’t figured it out by now, when I say I’m going to do something, you go all in and place all your chips on Thaddeus Duke because I accomplish every goal I set out to achieve.

Now that I’m Hart Champion in perpetuity, this match with Mark Flynn is for the newly minted SuperContinental championship. What a fitting way to christen a new championship than by the measuring stick of the XWF making the previous championship so unattainable by everyone that they retire it, introduce something new, only for me to win that mother fucker too and put my name on it as the first ever champion.

Setting the bar has always been my kinda thing.

So tomorrow night, watch me beat Mark Flynn in the center of the ring to become the new SuperContinental Champion. I’ve half convinced myself that the brain trust was starting to get worried since I’ve won every major title in the XWF, combined with my signing with OCW a few months ago that maybe I was growing bored of my home and was making plans to depart for other adventures, for other challenges.

He adopts a horribly imitated voice of Vinnie Lane. “Theo! We need a new belt for your fucking nephew to win!”

”On it.”

I’m never goin’ anywhere.

There’s no place like home and Mark Flynn, welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show mother fucker. This mother fucking Flynn bitch, let me tell you something about him. The man has spent two fairly entertaining promos NOT talking about yours truly. NOT talking about the task at hand. NOT talking about the challenge that lays in front of him.

That’s a fatal fucking mistake Marko. I’m not Dolly Waters. I’m not the Wizard. I’m not the Lesbian Deus Ex Machina…

The Assassination of the Coward Mark Flynn By the Lionheart Thaddeus Duke


See, I can be clever too.

While I’m sure you can hold your own against me in the ring, you’re basically admitting that you can’t hold your own against me on the stick. I’m not real surprised, to be honest. Everyone thinks they want me but very few can really hang with me in any facet of what the fuck it is we do. They find that out when things start counting for real and I’m not ashamed one bit by the fact that I’m better than you in every conceivable way.

It pleases me greatly that the career coward, more on that in a minute, doesn’t have the balls to really promote this match to his fullest ability. It pleases me greatly that the great Mark Flynn was successfully coaxed from the shadows of retirement by my rugged good looks, my great hair, my magnetic personality, and my five star quality match expertise… only for him to keel over and figuratively die when the pressure is on… the real pressure.

Pressure creates diamonds... or it turns you to dust. No one has applied the kind of pressure on me as I have so the end result of all that pressure I put on myself is that I’ve become a shining, shimmering, sparkling diamond throughout this industry.

I started applying pressure on Mark Flynn from the moment I called him out four months ago to see what would happen. Would he too become a diamond? Or would he crumble beneath my immense star power? And why is that historically significant? We’ve watched Mark Flynn turn into Ned Kaye-lite in real time and I’ve been laughing my ass off over it.

And it’s Ned Kaye-lite because at least Ned picked up the stick and tried to fight back rather than rolling over and playing dead until the last minute. Ned Kaye waited until his final piece of air time to pull out the desperation tactics of fancy adventure time promo land while ol’ Marko dipped into that bag of tricks by promo two.

Mark Flynn isn’t now nor has he ever been a diamond. He’s very good and I’ll never deny it but when you turn up the heat and apply pressure? Mark Flynn crumbles. That’s exactly what he’s done his entire career. Flynn’s been lucky in his old career. He touts names like Madison, Feder and Slater as if any of that is relevant to 2021 but what he doesn’t mention is that when the battles are straight up, he doesn’t have much to stand on and he caves under the weight of real stars. And it’s as soon as that reality hits him in the face, he starts making plans to make his “graceful” exit from the XWF.

Don’t believe me?

Oh I scouted you very well Marko.

Y’all can go back in the archives and look. Anytime he lost something he thought he’d win, the Overrated One, found a way to bow out of competition. I’ve always said that losses teach you something if you’re willing to listen and Mark never listened. All he ever did was come in hot as hell to a roster that didn’t know him, and as soon as they started figuring him out, Mark was taking his leave because using failure to improve just isn’t his bag.

Ol’ Free Win Flynn waited until his final promo in the waning hours before deadline to finally, once and for all open his mouth to engage and promote. The self-professed greatest shit talker in the history of shit talking had to wait until the very end in order to promote this match hoping that I’d taken my eye off the ball, hoping that I’d just assume he wouldn’t wait until the end like the career coward he is…

You needn’t worry Marko. I was never looking for you, just kicking back, relaxing, waiting for you to finally show up.

You’ve made a mistake in overvaluing yourself when it comes to my father. You also overvalue my father but that’s another story. I know it was just filler, much like the rest of your “history lesson,” so that you met the requirement of promotion, but I assure you not only did my father never tuck me into bed, we also never talked about Mark Flynn.

I did that research on my own.

I came to the conclusion that you were pretty good on my own.

Spill your name and watch you hunt? That’s the premise you were shooting for? Mark… my friend… you do realize that I knew that and that’s exactly why I said your name “three times?” You’re really out here giving us a history lesson of all the big names that no one cares about from a half-generation ago?

You know what Tristan Slater, Eli James, my father, and everyone else you name dropped have in common with me?

Nothing.

None of them were generational talents like I am. None of them had the clear cut focus on my opponent like I do. None of them had a knack for taking things and making them bigger like I have. None of them had the ability to talk, chew gum, and out wrestle a dumbass posing as a genius on pay per view.

Yes I live in New York, while I have acting jobs, kids in North Carolina, a girlfriend in Key West, endorsement deals, twitter squabbles with other promotions and competitors, a second wrestling job in OCW all the while fighting a war and you act like I can’t possibly be focused on Mark Flynn? I got news for you buddy, aside from the OCW thing, I had all that shit going on since the day I stepped foot back in this company and my focus has always been exactly where it needs to be, exactly WHEN it needs to be so if you think that my ability to lead a hectic lifestyle somehow disqualifies me from beating you then you clearly haven’t scouted me as well as you think you did and you should’ve paid even closer attention than you did.

I idle at busy.

I idle at superstar.

When the lights are on and the people file in… it’s showtime baby!

It’s pay per view, it’s the biggest fucking show on the calendar and so few have that next gear quite like I do. Those that do, none of their names are Mark Flynn.

There ain’t a better showman in this business, not a better wrestler in this business, not a more focused mother fucker in this business... than me.

I’m afraid your Optimal Path leads to a dead end my friend and the SuperContinental title is coming home with me so your Dragon trophy is just gonna have to wait.

Once again Mark Flynn…

Welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show.


[Image: NDdOtwO.png]
]]>
DAYS AGO


Woolworth Tower || Tribeca – New York City || 7:16 PM

Lowering the pistol to my side, I lean down and cradle Jim’s head in my left arm while sobbing nearly uncontrollably into his left shoulder. I wanted to take his pain away so much. To see him laying here barely able to move and mostly unable to function is killing me inside. It’s excruciating for me and I’m only a bystander. Whatever I’m going through, it pales in comparison to what he’s going through. Even still, I couldn’t shoot him in the head as if he were a horse with a broken leg. He deserves more respect and dignity than that.

”I’m sorry Jim,” I say through my sobs as the nurse rushes in.

”What happened!?” she cries out with worry.

”Just get the fuck out of here,” I reply to her quietly, not removing my head from Jim’s shoulder and certainly not wanting to let go of my hug.

”Is there something I can...”

Listen, I realize she’s just doing her job, but I couldn’t see that at the time. Out of anger and frustration, I spin around to face her. With my face beet red, my eyes swollen and tears steadily rolling down my face, I lash out.

”WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ABOUT GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!?” I ask her angrily before she quickly retreats out of the room.

”Mate…. She was just….. startled,” he advises me as I spin back around to him.

”I know, I just...” I cut myself off as I wipe the tears from my eyes and face while still holding the pistol. ”I just need to be here with you until...”

”I know,” he says quietly with a nod.

”Anyway, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that,” I say to him while attempting to recompose myself. ”I’ve killed a lot of people in the last five years but never once have I killed anyone I love.”

”I know,” he says quietly. ”I shouldn’t have……. Put you…… in that position….. I’m sorry.”

Unreal.

He’s the one suffering and dying, yet he’s the one apologizing to [/i]me.[/i]

”Don’t be sorry for anything,” I tell him. ”I just couldn’t have my lasting image of you to be your brains splattered on the wall and I’m the one that put ‘em there.”

He nods his understanding.

”If there was another way, I’d...”

”There is,” he interrupts. ”Another way,” he says after a breath.

He and I stare at each other a moment before he turns his head slightly and eyes the morphine drip.

”That won’t go high enough to kill you,” I inform him and he nods his understanding. ”All it’ll do is knock you out like you have been for the last couple weeks.”

”I know,” he says with his labored breathing. Lifting his left arm a little, he points to a medical cart resting against the wall. ”But there’s…….. syringes in……… the cart,” he stops talking for several seconds to catch his breath that isn’t coming, even with the oxygen mask attached to his face. ”Grab a couple……….. open the door,” he says, eyeballing the small door on the drip machine. Behind the door is the bag of morphine. ”Fill them up………….. and stick it in me….”

”Jim, I wouldn’t even know how much would stop your heart,” I plead with him in an effort to get him to stop asking me to kill him.

”She gives me…..” he pinches his fingers close together. ”This much……….. to help the pain.”

”I thought you said you felt the pain even when you’re unconscious,” I remind him.

”I think she……..” he begins with a confirming nod. ”Knocks me out……. So she doesn’t…… have to hear me.”

”Even still,” I continue to protest. ”I wouldn’t know how much to...”

”Fill two,” he pleads. ”Inject both.”

”Jim that’ll give you a massive heart attack,” I protest again.

”That’s the,” he begins, trying to smile. ”Whole point,” he concludes.

Turning my head to look at the cart, I finally relent. ”What if it hurts?” I ask of him as I retrieve a couple syringes and open the little door on the morphine pump.

”It can’t hurt……… more than……… it does now,” he replies with a considerable pause as he begins to smile a little. ”And then…….. it’ll be over………… peace.”

Hesitating while I fight the urge to just exit the room and leave Jim laying here, the first syringe is just an inch or two away from puncturing the bag.


PRESENT DAY


Landing on board the aircraft carrier Vengeance and coming to a full stop way faster than I’m used to, I just about sprain my neck from the whiplash. Opening the canopy, I step out of the jet and climb down the ladder to the deck surface while the crewmen work hard and fast to replenish and refuel all of the aircraft.

In deep thought, I retreat toward the mess hall. On my way there, I can’t help but smile as Jim intercepts my path.

”How’d it go mate?” he asks, returning a smile.

”Four or five were sunk in total and our fleet hasn’t even reached them yet,” I inform him as we walk and talk. ”At the risk of sounding entirely cocky, this might be way too easy.”

No sooner do I finish my statement and I can hear the sound of deck cannons being cleared coming across the water.

”I think the fleet has arrived,” he says with a smile as we both turn our attention toward the sea. Aborting our mission to head to the mess, he and I rush over toward the side of the carrier in order to watch for a minute. As we arrive at the railing, the evidence is clear as day as small fireballs shoot from our ships toward theirs.

”Wait,” I say with a scrunched up face. ”Where the hell is the Godzilla?”

Jim and I scan the surface for the gigantic all black warship with its supposedly impenetrable hull.

”There!” Jim calls out, pointing to the other side of the carrier.

”Well why the fuck is she so far behind?” I inquire to my greatest friend.

”You gotta remember, mate,” he begins his answer. ”She’s big, powerful and strong.”

”The trade off was speed,” I complete his thought.

”Right,” he confirms. ”Plus she’s turning, so she appears even slower than she really is.”

”Sir!” calls out the High Admiral of the Navy. Turning in his direction, I can see him at almost a sprint as he comes toward me. ”Leviathan is in trouble,” he informs me as we hear an extremely loud explosion off in the distance. The three of us look out to sea and one of the Ares Project ships breaks apart on the surface before the Atlantic quickly swallows her up.

”What’s the problem?” I ask, returning my attention to the Admiral.

”She’s stuck in the reef,” he replies. ”She was outrunning the enemy and didn’t realize they were running right into a reef and they have to surface.”

”If they surface again, the Ares Project fleet will sink her,” I advise him and he nods in agreement.

”We’ve already turned Godzilla in their direction with the intent to head off the enemy fleet before they can catch her,” he informs me and I nod my approval.

”Can they back up?”

”If they do that, they’re reversing course right underneath the enemy ship,” he replies with worry.

”So their only option is to stay put and hope Godzilla gets there in time,” I conclude on my own while the Admiral nods his confirmation. ”FUCK!”

”It’s worse than that,” the Admiral advises. ”The water there is fairly shallow and the enemy is using depth charges to find her and force her to the surface.”

Another series of explosions come from the sea battle. Looking briefly, two of my ships are going down. The cruiser Judgment and the destroyer Thunder.

”They’re starting to even the score mate,” Jim interjects.

Once the Judgment is under water, it becomes clear we got one of theirs too. Six of their ships remain with a seventh chasing Leviathan to six of ours, not including Godzilla who is racing toward Leviathan’s position.

”No, they’re already even,” I say aloud in response to Jim.

”What’s even?” the Admiral asks and I look at him briefly before looking back out to sea.

”Nothing,” I reply, covering my own ass. ”I was just thinking out loud.”

”Sir!” interrupts my air force General. ”They’re ready for you,” he informs me, referring to the flight crew.

Time to go back up. Eyeballing a Jim a moment, I just stay quiet.

”Come back in one piece again, will you mate?” he asks.

In return, I just smile and nod before rushing back toward my plane. I really did have to piss, that’s why I was headed toward the mess hall to begin with because it has the closest latrine. Instead, my bladder will have to wait. As I near the flight deck, the first of the bombers takes off. In contrast to the first wave of this mission which was an offensive assault on the Ares Project fleet, this one is defensive in nature. This time, we provide covering fire for the bombers.

Climbing the ladder to board my jet, another bomber is up and away with another racing down the runway.

Now its my turn.

Closing the canopy, I close my eyes a moment and think of Jim.

”You here?” I ask as I pull my helmet on and secure my mask.

”Of course I’m here,” he answers over my radio.

”It’s really not the same without you fighting alongside me bro,” I admit to him. ”It just doesn’t have the same… I don’t know the word for it.”

”LeoCor, you’re clear for launch,” comes the call over the radio.

”Pizzazz?” he questions. ”Panache?”

”Ha! Yeah we’ll go with that one,” I reply with a smile. With the push of a button, my jet shoots down the runway and once more, I’m airborne.

”What’s it like taking off from a carrier?” he asks.

”Faster,” I answer with a chuckle.

”Sir, the enemy has forced Leviathan to the surface,” comes the call from the High Admiral.

”Alright Jim, I gotta go for awhile,” I inform him. ”I’ll see you when I’m through.”

”Wouldn’t miss it,” he replies. ”Stay safe mate.”

Looking out my left side, I can see Leviathan as she breaches the surface. I can also see the enemy ship trying to use deck guns on her like idiots. The rounds are gonna batter her up, but they’re not gonna sink her. Pointing my nose toward the enemy ship, I fire a missile.

”Fox One!” I call out as the streak of light flies off toward the bow of the ship. It strikes the side and causes its crewmen to jump out of the way, but they work quickly to regain their feet and prepare torpedoes. I was aiming for the deck and their stack of torpedoes but I didn’t wait for my weapons system to lock on the target.

Swinging out and around to my right, I see Godzilla closing in fast on the enemy. She begins clearing her deck cannons and the enemy does the same. Each shell from the enemy bounces off the great ship barely even rocking her on her keel, just as I was promised. The enemy aims higher, toward the superstructure of the black battleship. They pelt her with rounds, trying to take out the men and women contained within rather than taking out the ship since they just learned they don’t have the fire power to sink her.

What they don’t know, is that the crew of that ship works either on or below decks. The superstructure on it only exists for aesthetic reasons. It probably sounds stupid, but think of a ship with no superstructure. Now that’s silly.

”What the fuck?” I say aloud to myself. ”They’re not even slowing down.” Below me, I keep a watchful eye on the action as my incoming missile warnings go off. Nonchalantly I drop flares and keep on flying around, watching as Godzilla steers her bow right into the side of Leviathan’s tormentor. Not in time though as the enemy ship fired a pair of torpedoes.

Leviathan tries to dive and avert disaster, but it’s all for naught. Seconds after Leviathan slips beneath the waves, the aftershock of her exploding is evident on the surface.

”God dammit,” I say aloud to myself. Leviathan’s crew will not have gone down in vain. Her sacrifices will be felt and acknowledged as heroic for generations. She lead the enemy right into the trap and their ships are going down left and right. With them, McGovern’s fighting men.

The attacking ship was practically split in two by Godzilla but her bow is jammed within the hull of the enemy as my fuel warning sounds. Back to the carrier I go.


DAYS AGO


After filling the syringes with the potent Morphine, I sit beside his bed just looking at him. Months ago, I watched my mother die. I tried hard to get to her and to stop my dad from doing what he did but I was powerless. It was the past and as Stephen King put it in some of his writing, “the past is obdurate, it doesn’t want to be changed.” Anytime I took a step forward, I’d get run into or knocked down and fall back two.

I feel now much the same way I did then. No matter how you slice it, no matter whether the cancer takes him, a lethal dose of morphine does it, or a bullet in his brain, there’s no stopping it. Today, tomorrow, a week, a month, Jim will die and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Death bargains with no one.

It waits for no one.

Setting the syringes down on the tray table, I pick up his hand and hold it to my cheek. His dying blue eyes look into mine.

”I don’t know if I can do it,” I admit to him quietly. ”You’re leaving and I don’t know how to deal with that. I don’t know how to give you that cocktail and just carry on like nothing happened. Like I didn’t do it.”

”You’re the…….. most courageous person…….. I’ve ever known,” he begins before attempting to unsuccessfully clear his throat. ”You can do…….. anything you……. Put your mind to.”

”This is different,” I argue. ”It’s easy when its them or me. This is just… it’s just you.”

With his hand still against my cheek, he weakly grabs my hair and pulls my head to his upper chest. Not resisting him, I just lay there. It’s in this moment, that I think I get it.

”You hear that?” he asks. Silently, I nod and continue to listen. With each breath he takes his lungs gurgle almost as if he were drowning. His heart beat is arrhythmic will no discernible pattern. ”Each breath…….. is a dull dagger……… my heart races…….. like trying to……. Escape its fate.”

Lifting my head from his chest I look at him silently for a moment, then nod once. It really is mercy. Giving into his desires to end his life, in a way, beats the cancer that’s trying it’s damnedest to kill him. I think it’s ingrained in human DNA to want to have a say, to have control over what happens when we die. Most of us never have to give it thought and we die peacefully in our sleep. Jim, and the millions of people around the world just like him that have to struggle in their waning days, in a way, I suppose, this is his way of denying his disease the right to kill him.

How could I deny him that right? He was dealt a shit hand by his maker but that doesn’t mean he can’t have the last laugh and steal death from his cancers grip. Contrary to popular opinion, cancer never wins, it’s almost always a draw. The only way to victory when your cancer is terminal and inoperable? Kill the cancer before it kills you. And the only way to do that is by taking matters into your own hands.

With tears steady rolling now, I pick up the syringes. I remember talking to his doctor back in Connecticut. The maximum amount of morphine he was allowed in an entire day was 50mg due to fears that he’d accidentally overdose. As if death by accidental overdose is somehow more traumatic than terminal cancer.

In my hands, is four times the allowable daily limit and about to be injected into him all at one time. “Maybe we should consult with someone first,” I suggest. He just looks at me. ”I mean, what if it’s not enough and you just lay there suffering in your unconscious state?”

Lifting his arm from his side, he just points at the heart monitor.

”Good point,” I relent with a sigh. Mustering all the strength he can, he makes a fist. Grabbing his closed fist I point the first syringe to his bulging vein and pause, and look up at him. He nods. With the never ending tears in my eyes, I stop hesitating and drive the needle into his skin, injecting the poison.

Then I do the same with the second.

Sitting with his hand in mine, he smiles at me.

”Thank you,” he says quietly, with tears in his own eyes. ”For everything.”

”I’ll miss you,” I say while choking back my emotion that’s intent on coming out whether I want it to or not.

”I know,” he says with a smile.

Just a few seconds later his heart rate is growing erratic and he squeezes my hand as hard as he can.

”I’m free, Thad,” he says as his eyes roll back in his head a moment before he falls unconscious. The alarms on his vital monitors start going crazy with beeps and bells. His heart monitor is spiking heavily as the nurse rushes in.

”Sir! Move aside!” she instructs me.

”That won’t be necessary,” I inform her coldly just before she takes a step forward. ”NOT ANOTHER STEP!”

”He has no DNR and no living will,” she informs me as she takes that step. ”I have a duty to try and save him!” She cries out as she rounds my back. ”What’d you do?” she asks, spying the two syringes on the tray table.

Not wanting to argue with her, I pull my pistol from my thigh and backhand her in the temple. She falls groggily to the floor. His grip on my hand is so tight now and his body shakes a bit involuntarily. In the moment, seconds crawl by at a snails pace but in real time, it’s all over quickly.

[Image: IKcP7KA.gif]


Just like that, James Edwards ceases to exist.

”I love you Jim,” I say quietly as I sob quiet tears into his chest.


PRESENT DAY


Back on board the Vengeance, I sit upon the deck and watch as the last of our bombs are dropped on the Ares Project fleet. They’re down to just two ships still afloat. Whatever anti-aircraft firepower they might have had aboard their vessels was never going to be enough without proper training. With Godzilla still locked in the hull of Leviathan’s killer, and what’s left of their fleet in retreat, I can rest soundly but with one eye open. The battle is won, but the war isn’t yet over. Intelligence suggests that General McGovern, like the coward he is, did not accompany his fleet. The war doesn’t end until McGovern rots in the ground.

”It was a good day for the Illuminatus military,” Jim says as he sits beside me and hands me a cigar.

”Not so good for them,” I say with a smile as we light up and take a puff.

”You gotta stay on ‘em now,” he advises. ”They’ll lick their wounds and regroup. Come at us again.”

”Is it still us?” I ask, turning my head in his direction.

”Loyal friend and servant to the only King that ever mattered, for all eternity,” he says with an exhale of smoke. ”Or until you die. It’s one of the two,” he says, causing me to chuckle.

”If you hadn’t been here...”

”I know...”

”What do I do when you’re not?”

”If I’m not here, there’s a reason for it,” he suggests with a nod.

”They’re turning back,” I say aloud as I look off toward the sea. Jim darts his head toward the pair of enemy ships. ”They’re goin’ after Godzilla,” I say excitedly as I jump back on my feet.

”Godzilla is a sitting duck,” Jim states the obvious.

”Impenetrable hull and whatnot?”

”You really gonna trust that?” he asks.

The others in my fleet have started their way back toward the carrier as we devise a plan to free Godzilla from her lodging amid the enemy vessel.

”Take a chopper and...”

”And the WarHammer,” I complete his thought.

It doesn’t take long to get ready. Just a few minutes. In the meantime my fleet was ordered back to the kill zone to protect Godzilla. If I have my way though, they won’t fire another shot. Lifting off from the flight deck, me and the flight crew make quick work in preparing. The protective gear is heavy and the recoil when you fire that weapon is fierce. So we make do with what we have by strapping me to the interior top and bottom of the helicopter.

Just as I’m secured in the belly, its go time. Aiming the megaweapon, I pull the trigger and had I not been strapped in, I definitely would have been thrown out the other side. The baby nuclear warhead impacts the broadside of the first pursuing ship and quite literally blows it out of the water.

Handing the first weapon off to one member of the flight crew, a second hands me another weapon, fully locked, loaded and ready to go. Looking through the crosshairs I can see the remaining ship trying to flee and fire toward its stern. A second later, the warhead strikes the ship, blowing it to pieces.

”Holy shit,” I say with a smile. ”Should’ve just used those fuckers and saved ourselves a whole lot of lives.”

”That was kind of epic, mate,” Jim says as he stands beside me while the crew detaches me from the straps. ”I hope you don’t mind me being here, I kinda wanted to see this one firsthand.”

”You can join me any time,” I say with a smile. Looking out the craft at Godzilla, the shockwave from the two blasts sent large waves toward her, finishing off the enemy ship in which she’s lodged. The Bow section falls away and the stern follows soon after, freeing the mammoth warship.

Taking a seat after a job well done, Jim sits beside me.

”What’s it like?” I ask of him and he just stares at me. ”I mean, on the other side?”

”I knew what you meant,” he replies quickly. ”It’s pretty boring.”

”I’m not there, I could only imagine how boring it is,” I say jokingly causing him to chuckle.

”It’s about time for me to go mate.”

”I miss you bro,” I admit to him as a tear rolls down.

”I know,” he says with a smile.

Not realizing what I was doing, I look across the aircraft at the flight crew. The three men stare at me in confusion. Looking to my left, Jim is gone and at once I’m filled with deep sadness and a sense of loss. I don’t think I’ll shake that feeling for a very long time. He played an integral role in shaping who I am today, for better or for worse.

I’ve never felt this lost, this empty, in my entire life and y’all even know who my dad is. Maybe this is me having to pay what I owe for the bad things I’ve done in my life. I’m not a saint and I never have been. I’ve never even claimed to be one. I’ve done some terribly ruthless things in my life and 99% it is war related. It was always about survival and defending the Illuminatus’ right to exist. That’s never stopped anyone from passing judgment on me and the things I do.

Their opinions though, mean nothing to me.

This is my way of life and things are different here. I don’t expect anyone to really understand. So, they can continue to pass their judgments. They can label me a killer or a war criminal, none of it matters. The only thing that matters is victory.


As I stand here today, the night before the final night of Relentless, the Hart Championship is officially retired. When I sought it, when I won it, my goal was to make it mean something again. My goal was always to make the Hart Championship the prize it used to be and not the prop it became since the day Centurion lost it in the summer of 2020.

As I stand here today, I did make the Hart title mean something again. I did make the Hart title a legitimate prize to be sought after, to be won. I took a championship that the last half dozen or so holders made a laughing stock, and made it one of the premier attractions on the final night of the biggest show of the year.

If y’all haven’t figured it out by now, when I say I’m going to do something, you go all in and place all your chips on Thaddeus Duke because I accomplish every goal I set out to achieve.

Now that I’m Hart Champion in perpetuity, this match with Mark Flynn is for the newly minted SuperContinental championship. What a fitting way to christen a new championship than by the measuring stick of the XWF making the previous championship so unattainable by everyone that they retire it, introduce something new, only for me to win that mother fucker too and put my name on it as the first ever champion.

Setting the bar has always been my kinda thing.

So tomorrow night, watch me beat Mark Flynn in the center of the ring to become the new SuperContinental Champion. I’ve half convinced myself that the brain trust was starting to get worried since I’ve won every major title in the XWF, combined with my signing with OCW a few months ago that maybe I was growing bored of my home and was making plans to depart for other adventures, for other challenges.

He adopts a horribly imitated voice of Vinnie Lane. “Theo! We need a new belt for your fucking nephew to win!”

”On it.”

I’m never goin’ anywhere.

There’s no place like home and Mark Flynn, welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show mother fucker. This mother fucking Flynn bitch, let me tell you something about him. The man has spent two fairly entertaining promos NOT talking about yours truly. NOT talking about the task at hand. NOT talking about the challenge that lays in front of him.

That’s a fatal fucking mistake Marko. I’m not Dolly Waters. I’m not the Wizard. I’m not the Lesbian Deus Ex Machina…

The Assassination of the Coward Mark Flynn By the Lionheart Thaddeus Duke


See, I can be clever too.

While I’m sure you can hold your own against me in the ring, you’re basically admitting that you can’t hold your own against me on the stick. I’m not real surprised, to be honest. Everyone thinks they want me but very few can really hang with me in any facet of what the fuck it is we do. They find that out when things start counting for real and I’m not ashamed one bit by the fact that I’m better than you in every conceivable way.

It pleases me greatly that the career coward, more on that in a minute, doesn’t have the balls to really promote this match to his fullest ability. It pleases me greatly that the great Mark Flynn was successfully coaxed from the shadows of retirement by my rugged good looks, my great hair, my magnetic personality, and my five star quality match expertise… only for him to keel over and figuratively die when the pressure is on… the real pressure.

Pressure creates diamonds... or it turns you to dust. No one has applied the kind of pressure on me as I have so the end result of all that pressure I put on myself is that I’ve become a shining, shimmering, sparkling diamond throughout this industry.

I started applying pressure on Mark Flynn from the moment I called him out four months ago to see what would happen. Would he too become a diamond? Or would he crumble beneath my immense star power? And why is that historically significant? We’ve watched Mark Flynn turn into Ned Kaye-lite in real time and I’ve been laughing my ass off over it.

And it’s Ned Kaye-lite because at least Ned picked up the stick and tried to fight back rather than rolling over and playing dead until the last minute. Ned Kaye waited until his final piece of air time to pull out the desperation tactics of fancy adventure time promo land while ol’ Marko dipped into that bag of tricks by promo two.

Mark Flynn isn’t now nor has he ever been a diamond. He’s very good and I’ll never deny it but when you turn up the heat and apply pressure? Mark Flynn crumbles. That’s exactly what he’s done his entire career. Flynn’s been lucky in his old career. He touts names like Madison, Feder and Slater as if any of that is relevant to 2021 but what he doesn’t mention is that when the battles are straight up, he doesn’t have much to stand on and he caves under the weight of real stars. And it’s as soon as that reality hits him in the face, he starts making plans to make his “graceful” exit from the XWF.

Don’t believe me?

Oh I scouted you very well Marko.

Y’all can go back in the archives and look. Anytime he lost something he thought he’d win, the Overrated One, found a way to bow out of competition. I’ve always said that losses teach you something if you’re willing to listen and Mark never listened. All he ever did was come in hot as hell to a roster that didn’t know him, and as soon as they started figuring him out, Mark was taking his leave because using failure to improve just isn’t his bag.

Ol’ Free Win Flynn waited until his final promo in the waning hours before deadline to finally, once and for all open his mouth to engage and promote. The self-professed greatest shit talker in the history of shit talking had to wait until the very end in order to promote this match hoping that I’d taken my eye off the ball, hoping that I’d just assume he wouldn’t wait until the end like the career coward he is…

You needn’t worry Marko. I was never looking for you, just kicking back, relaxing, waiting for you to finally show up.

You’ve made a mistake in overvaluing yourself when it comes to my father. You also overvalue my father but that’s another story. I know it was just filler, much like the rest of your “history lesson,” so that you met the requirement of promotion, but I assure you not only did my father never tuck me into bed, we also never talked about Mark Flynn.

I did that research on my own.

I came to the conclusion that you were pretty good on my own.

Spill your name and watch you hunt? That’s the premise you were shooting for? Mark… my friend… you do realize that I knew that and that’s exactly why I said your name “three times?” You’re really out here giving us a history lesson of all the big names that no one cares about from a half-generation ago?

You know what Tristan Slater, Eli James, my father, and everyone else you name dropped have in common with me?

Nothing.

None of them were generational talents like I am. None of them had the clear cut focus on my opponent like I do. None of them had a knack for taking things and making them bigger like I have. None of them had the ability to talk, chew gum, and out wrestle a dumbass posing as a genius on pay per view.

Yes I live in New York, while I have acting jobs, kids in North Carolina, a girlfriend in Key West, endorsement deals, twitter squabbles with other promotions and competitors, a second wrestling job in OCW all the while fighting a war and you act like I can’t possibly be focused on Mark Flynn? I got news for you buddy, aside from the OCW thing, I had all that shit going on since the day I stepped foot back in this company and my focus has always been exactly where it needs to be, exactly WHEN it needs to be so if you think that my ability to lead a hectic lifestyle somehow disqualifies me from beating you then you clearly haven’t scouted me as well as you think you did and you should’ve paid even closer attention than you did.

I idle at busy.

I idle at superstar.

When the lights are on and the people file in… it’s showtime baby!

It’s pay per view, it’s the biggest fucking show on the calendar and so few have that next gear quite like I do. Those that do, none of their names are Mark Flynn.

There ain’t a better showman in this business, not a better wrestler in this business, not a more focused mother fucker in this business... than me.

I’m afraid your Optimal Path leads to a dead end my friend and the SuperContinental title is coming home with me so your Dragon trophy is just gonna have to wait.

Once again Mark Flynn…

Welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show.


[Image: NDdOtwO.png]
]]> <![CDATA[The Alias Saga #7: The Many Songs Of The End]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41964 Sat, 25 Sep 2021 22:11:00 -0700 ALIAS]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41964 7A: A Song Of Yesterday

OPENING CREDITS:



##He spoke of the end
From the mountains to the sea
This is it, the end##


- Part Seven -

“A SONG OF YESTERDAY”




I hadn’t thought that it could get any more secluded than that small settlement on the fringe of Seven Devils. I was wrong. I knew that it wasn’t the case, but there was something about the woods that always made me feel small. Like everything was shrinking. I followed the blue woman through a path that only she knew. I still wasn’t quite sure just how far I could trust her. She had a reputation for putting knives in people’s backs. And in their fronts. Here I was, though, hot on her trail. We were well into the day by now, but you wouldn’t know underneath the thick overgrowth.

The crack of a twig behind me told me how close the gruff man at the rear me was. Based on what I heard, I was confident that I could get out of dodge in time if he decided to get frisky. But I was here for a reason. The blue woman called herself Lycana, though I knew that wasn’t her real name. Her and Marf, the man who trailed behind, had a queer relationship. Lycana had asked him to stay behind. He refused. I did my best to stay out of it. It wasn't my fight. But it was interesting to get a peek behind the curtain with these here brigands. They weren't in agreement about it, but ultimately Marf wound up coming along for the trip. In the end, the girl just seemed to give in. I still didn’t quite understand why she was even helping me. When last we were together, she lit a match and I was the kindling. I think it left Marf confused as well. He wouldn’t even let me light a cigarette.

"This is it."

The curious gal stopped in her tracks. The world around us looked just as damp and dreary as it had been five minutes ago. I didn’t see much that was different about it. By the look on his face, neither did grizzled Marf. That gave me some comfort. It told me that if this was a ruse, at least he wasn’t in on it.

The comfort was short-lived. I became keenly aware of the feeling of eyes staring at the back of my head. I turned. Marf did the same, and actually joined me at my side. I didn’t know what to think of that. Two of the strangest figures that I ever saw were standing, motionless, next to the face of a rocky outcrop from the mountain that grew up above. I clenched my fists, and through the corner of my eye saw Marf do the same. Lycana, with all her wiles, stepped forward and spoke to these… people… if that was the word. She used a language I hadn’t ever heard before. And that was something, coming from me. They listened to her, and stepped back from us. The dame then stepped up to the mountain’s face and raised her hands.

“Ego vocare super terram et lapis… Ostende mihi viam, quod non est notum.”



---BLINK!---




There is a shining light.

There is a ringing bell.



---BLINK!---




”What are you doing?” I asked. But what I saw was unbelievable. Impossible, even.



---BLINK!---








Her hands glowed a brilliant hue of gold. As the elves - and make no mistake about it, I knew that was exactly what they were - bled back into the foliage at her request, I let my attention fall upon the magic before my eyes. A part of me wished that was a metaphor. But here, before me, I saw an arch appear on the cold stone, piercing its way at points through a coat of moss. The arch moved. It shifted back into the mountain, and a dark tunnel opened ahead. Lycana goes to enter.

“What are you doing?!” Marf calls to her, before she can step foot inside. “You’ve taken him this far.You hadn’t even brought me here until today. Why do you need to go any further?”

“I’m just trying to help,” she pleads back. The tension is palpable. A mere week ago, I would have been content to egg them on. To see their world break apart. But this is not a week ago, is it?

“It’s okay,” I interject. They both take their time registering that I had even spoken. Or at the very least, in reacting to it. Eventually, however, both sets of otherworldly eyes fall upon me. I look between them each. “I have it from here.”

“See?” Marf says, gesturing to me to make a point.

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” she replies. They’re having a conversation without me.

“Do you?” he jabs at her.

“What are you trying to say?” I don’t have time for this.

“Enough!” I shout. The sound of my voice pings across from rock wall to tree trunk and back again. They both shut up. “I don’t know what’s going on here. With the two of you, with me, with Betsy, with any of it. I don’t even know if I should fucking care about half of it. What I do know, is that I’m going into that cave. And unless there’s something in there that’s going to go BANG! BANG! or CHOP! CHOP! I don’t need you to follow, Lycana. Either way, I’m fucking going in.”

I know that wasn’t the most sensitive way of handling things. But I was so close to Everything. I could damn near reach out and finger bang it.

I could read Lycana’s face with ease. That was… odd and unlike her. She wanted to press on. It was like she wanted to be there for me. To his credit, at least from my perspective, Marf didn’t seem like he wanted to throttle me either. That was a plus. But his emotions were just as transparent as Lycana’s. He saw no need to get caught up in a battle that wasn’t his. I really couldn’t blame him.

Their conversation continues. That much I could tell. But it was a silent one, and a part of me was thankful for that. Keep me out of whatever fucking 90210 melodrama was going on between them. I had bigger fish to fry. Through their unspoken communication, they were still able to reach an agreement. Lycana crossed the woodlands floor, sweeping past me until she was standing by Marf’s side.

“Good luck,” she said to me as her skirt brushed my leg. I look over to the tunnel, and then back to the people who I had previously wished to see flogged, drawn, and quartered.

“Thank you,” I said to them both, making a deliberate attempt at eye contact with them both.

I didn’t wait for a response.

There was a room that nobody would expect to find underground in the middle of nowhere.

And I stepped into it.

##Into the darkness I will travel
Along the long and lonesome road
Guided by the moonlight on the gravel
Ever searching for a home

Into the darkness I will hurry
Unwilling to wait for dawn to break
Turning the path into a slurry
I think I’ve made a big mistake

Into the darkness I will wander
Lost and confused like I’m a mule
Upon my fate shall I ever ponder
Until the light reveals the truth##

A pause of my own reflection.

##Into the light I see so seldom
A ringing bell announces I am welcome##




7B: A Song Of Revelation

“You can’t be here!” shouts a portly woman as she rises from a wheeled chair. She scurries over to me as she tries to block me from entering any further.

Behind her, I could hear sounds not of this mountain. Whirs and beeps of the world outside. Further, even. At the very limits of what the world was capable of. I followed with my eyes as cables ran along the ceiling to a screen displaying three-dimensional models of human organs: heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, and more. At the sight of it, an off-putting part of me grew hungry.

You can relate, no?

“Miranda, is it?” I ask, resting attention back onto the woman. She stands with her hands on her hips, and a pained look across her face. Her eyes nodded though her head never moved. “It’s okay, Lycana brought me here.”

“She didn’t tell me you were coming,” the woman, Miranda, replies.

“To be fair, she didn’t know I was either until I got here,” I shrug. She didn’t like that. I could tell. Not that I knew her well. I tended to want to return the favour. I had a default inclination to not be very fond of her. Doctors, always poking and prodding.

“How do I know I can trust you?” she asks.

“I call upon the earth and stone. Show me the path that is not known.” I am quick with my reply. It’s the incantation that Lycana used to open the door, translated from Latin. I’m not sure if she knew that I understood it while she was uttering it. I also didn’t know if Miranda would know it herself. A shift in the doctor’s shoulders that indicates she does. “Are we good?”

Even her head nods this time.

“Can you take me to the Patient?” I ask.

“Uh… yeah. Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel and leads me further into the room. It isn’t a particularly large space. Sterile white walls, floors, and ceiling gave way to shiny chrome everything else. I spy a small nook behind one of the large machines that grinded with the sounds of life. A kitchenette was embedded into the far wall of the opening, and there were a couple of cots on which to sleep. The coupling continues as a couple of eyes also make themselves known. Miranda wasn’t alone down here. That’s good for her, I guess. I give a small wave to show that I’m no threat, and the eyes pull back.

The Patient dominated a small raised platform on one side of the room. Lying on a gurney that jutted out of the wall without any supporting braces underneath, tubes and coils wrapping their way from the body to the walls and life-saving equipment. The body, known to me first as The Baphomet, lay before me, kept from ever entering death’s door. I get a sort of twisted joy in what I see. Stuck in Limbo here, he can never see his will realised, one way or the other.

“Has there been any change?” I don’t take my eyes off him while I ask.

“Not since he was brought here,” she says. I guess that’s good. I take a step closer and muse to myself about how easy it would be to pull the plug right now. How easy it would be to send him on his way. Miranda couldn’t stop me. Whatever it was hiding in the nook back there couldn’t. I know that I could do it. For all our differences, I’m pretty sure Marf would throw a fucking party. Neither of us could really understand why Lycana had even kept the body alive. Maybe… without her even knowing… it was for me. Maybe it was for this moment.

With my left hand, I reach towards him.




Wait! What was that?

No! I stopped seeing these fucking things months ago! They can fuck right off!

But this… this is why I’m here.

I reach out once more.




“Raise the left hand…”


I hear a voice on the wind. But there is no breeze on which it travels.

I…

I…

I understand.

After nine long months, I raise my left hand.

And I bring it down upon his head.







I am nothing.

I am nowhere.

I am a voice inside a head.

I am not alone.



She is here.

She is something.

She is everywhere.

She is a voice without a mouth.



“My child, you have come. I have been waiting for this day.”

“I think I have too.”



I am empty.

I am darkness.

I am that which was before.

I am that which will be again.



“It is time. You have raised your hand. This is what you were made for.”

“I… I…”



I am me.

I am alive.



“I… I… What do you mean, ‘made for’?”

“Let me show you.”

And she does. I see myself in a cell. I throw myself against the walls until I bleed and break. They pad them; as much for the safety of their own structures as it is for me, but still I persist. I continue. I FIGHT.

But I am one of their structures. I see it now.

The upside down pentagram on a dagger. The vivid crucifixion of Christ upon the cross, hanging above the common room of the hospital facility.

I see The Left Hand.

Not The Baphomet, but others. A wide-reaching network of filth and degeneration. A twisted offshoot. And I am a part of it. Pumped full of drugs and beaten until I am no longer what I was.

I am me. I am alive.

And I am their creation.

“Come. Embrace me. Pick up from where The Baphomet left off and bring forth The Left Hand’s true purpose.”

“I… I…”



---BLINK!---




…

Nothing changed.

I am here.

She is there.

But…

There is a song. A beautiful melody in the back of my mind. Not her voice, no. Not anyone’s but my own. I am singing.

##When you see that shining light
When you hear that ringing bell
The end is drawing nigh
And you can't stop the swell

So let the waves crash down on him
Let him drown in his own way
He has fought and learned to swim
And he is here to stay!

He will stand up straight to face it
He’s not prepared to say goodbye
He will preach from his own pulpit
That it’s not time for him to die!##

Softer, my voice lingers.

##I am going to be okay. You’ll see.
The universe is rooting for me.##

And the chorus hits:

“I think you should kindly go fuck yourself.”

I fight! RELENTLESS!

I survive! RELENTLESS!

I burn this motherfucker to the ground!

RELENTLESS!

Say it with me, everyone: FUCK THE LEFT HAND!

“You were made for this, child! Now kneel!”

“Oh… haven’t you heard? I don’t fucking kneel. I’m the Anti-Doc. The Kingslayer. The Monster-Hunter. The War-Winner. The World-Beater.”

FUCK THE DOCTOR.

FUCK THE KING.


FUCK THE MONSTERS.

FUCK THE WARS.

FUCK THE WORLD.

FUCK IT ALL!

{{Trashy, word-wasting shit.}}

FUCK THE TRASHY GODS TOO!

“And babe… I’m the motherfucking Godkiller. Fuck you.”

FUCK YOU!


[Image: cr99Cyt.png]



I am the fire.

And the darkness fucking flees before me.

“You… you were corrupted. I see it now. I see who betrayed us.”

“Oh yeah? I’m going to be needing to see that for myself right about now.”

I reach into the memories of a god and pull the information out by force.

And I am swept away.




7C: A Song Of Freedom

The desert was nothing new to me. It was under that relentless sun that I first got the faintest hint of a life beyond what I had known. I had failed that night in Tombstone, almost a year ago. But the world didn’t end. I don’t think I ever quite appreciated that until now, as the warmth coddles me once more. There’s something liberating about it all. Here, where life is harshest, the only restrictions are those which you place upon yourself. And if you chose to live without any… well then, you get this.


[Image: yuioPwK.jpg]



The outside matched the inside. Bleak and barren. Minimalist, in a confronting way. He didn’t even ask any questions when I turned up on his doorstep. He looked at me from behind eyes that dreamed of a dying world, and he simply turned and walked back down the hallway. I wiped my feet on a mat outside, passed across the threshold, and shut the door behind me, before following him down the spartan corridor. It opens up into an open area that I presume is supposed to be a lounge, where my host has already fallen back into the crevices of a black leather chair, watching me intently.




“I don’t really need to introduce myself, do I?” I ask, taking a seat opposite him. He shakes his head without saying a word. “Thought as much. I feel like you already know why I’m here.”

“I have a good idea about it,” John Caedus replies, unblinking. “I’m more curious about how you found out.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let’s just call it ‘magic’ and leave it at that.” He cranes his head to the side, studying me.

“I would believe more than you think.” Now what is that supposed to mean exactly? I suppose it tracks, to an extent. I don’t know how much he has to do with his brother Jim anymore, but the younger Caedus has certainly leaned more towards being a ‘believer’ lately. At least that’s one way of describing it. I wonder what else John knows.

“You know my background too?” Yadda, yadda, yadda. I don’t need to say it. Everyone’s heard it all before. Right, Lou?

“Involuntary admission to hospital. Deprived of liberty for a decade. Penchant for setting everything alight.” He rattles everything off so dispassionately.

Oops, I said it anyway!

“That more or less covers it,” I say. “Turns out the whole hospital thing was a front for people to experiment on me and turn me into something… well… other. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He shifts in his seat and his eyes narrow.

“You were there,” I continue. “You helped them.”

“Well…” Whatever passes for a smirk on John’s face finds its way to the surface. “I did and I didn’t.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I demand.

“I was hired to do a job,” he begins. “Help some turn soldiers into better versions of themselves. From the looks of things, I’d say I did a pretty good job.”

I’m taken aback a little by his openness. I’d say that something about it feels off, but in truth, everything about John Caedus seems ‘off’.

“Except it wasn’t a soldier they were fucking around with,” I growl. “It was me.”

“It wasn’t part of the job to look into that,” he replies.

“That’s a fucking cop-out and you know it!” I rise, towering over him in a strange case of reversed fortunes. He looks up at me with the same level of indifference that I had shown to those I encountered in Boone and Seven Devils only a day ago.

“I suggest you sit down,” he quietly says, gesturing back towards the couch. I’m a child though, so I don’t listen.

“I suggest you tell me what the fuck you did to me.” I am not backing down. Not this close to everything. Not this close to the end.

“I showed them how to change how you think, that’s all.” ‘That’s all’? As if messing with my head is something on level with tying your shoelaces or pouring yourself a glass of water.

“They tortured me!”

I, the fire.

He, the arsonist.

As my voice rises, so too does John’s body. We stand, eye-to-eye, each staring into a tinderbox ready to blow.

“They made you stronger,” he tells me. “Besides, I left a little back-door in there for you, and it looks like you’ve found it.”

“What?” Answers! I’m here for answers, not more riddles!

“The pink critter.” By God, I think that’s a genuine smile on Caedus’s face. Bemusement, I think? “What was it again?”

“The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur,” I reply. And my heart stops.

The gravity of it all floods over me. A crashing wave that blots the light. A part of me knew it. Surely, a part of me knew it!

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur isn’t real.

I’m not special. I’m not unique. I’m not different. I’m just a scared little boy that monsters had their way with.

“That’s the one,” John says. I struggle to even hold attention to him. The world as I know it, is slipping away. “It’s a tool. You see that don’t you? A weapon. That mind of yours is free in every sense of the word. You’re not bound to them, or to anyone. You’re free to burn it all down as you see fit.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, meek and insignificant. He leans in close to me, whispering in my ear. I feel the hot rage of his voice.

“Because this world needs a good burning.” He pulls back, and turns towards a full-length window on one side of the room. John Caedus gazes out over the arid dust bowl that stretches towards the horizon. “Also, because I saw you coming before you ever even knocked on my door. I let them know you were here. They should be coming to get you in five… four… three…”

“You did what?!”

“...two…”

There’s no escape.

“...one.”

A dart hits my neck. The world grows blurry. John Caedus doesn’t pay me any mind, as I fall to the ground in a heap. The last thing that I hear is the sound of thumping feet.



The Ex-Victim wakes up.

Am I a creature of fire, in a magic ball of cold concrete, ready to be summoned?

No.

Not this time.

I am a Patient.

I always was.

I sit in a padded room, with not even a television screen to watch. Nothing to draw, nothing to Eat. Certainly no kitchen sink! Nothing to do save for gripping my knees and rocking. I could rage. I could throw myself against the wall. But what would be the use? It won’t budge. I know that. The Doctor told me.

So I sit. And I rock. And I wait. And I sing.

##These four walls are made of paper
Had I pencils, I would draw
But my muse begins to taper
The house turns into straw

I light a match and spark the flame
The walls tremble at its sight
All I need to do is say the name
And all of this will be set right

So I set fire to it all
And the ash falls in my wake
I had to rise before I fall
But destiny is mine to make##

Softer now. My body matching pace.

##The future’s not ours to see.
Whatever will be, will be.##

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Hello, in there! Are you feeling okay?

It’s not a nurse. No. And it doesn’t come from the square window

It’s my man in black.

Padding becomes a mirror. A mirror becomes a window. Intangible, but there, right in front of me. A light behind the glass reveals my fate.

Kieran King sits in a rocking chair, cradling the crying child. His brows furrow when he sees my face contort into a grin. Crooked and wide. I fall back onto the soft ground, and I laugh!


[Image: 7f2vxNf.png]



My ghosts of yesterday are here! Today! John fucking Caedus. He loves him some chaos, doesn’t he?

Kieran doesn’t get it. Of course he doesn’t. People like him never do. He thinks I’m trapped! Caged! Ripe for the picking. ‘Ever forward’ he thinks about the journey. No matter the twists and turns. But does he think about the destination? Do they ever?

The end.

He’s mere feet away from me. Served up on a platter, with just a wall between us. But I always find a way.

“You have something that I want,” I tell him. He coos down at the child.

“You are something that I want,” he says.

“Why?” I stand, staring through the window. “Have you ever stopped to ask that? When last we spoke, you told me that you were just trying to survive. All this, though, it’s for them. Not for you. Haven’t you ever wanted to be free of it? To be able to make your own decisions?”

He thinks upon this. Or so he feigns. A dismissive shrug gives away his indifference.

“That’s like… your opinion, man.” He tickles the still crying baby’s stomach.

“It is,” I agree. “It very much is. So what’s the deal now? You call the Doctor? Or whoever she answers to? Pledge allegiance to The Left Hand, put on a goat-mask, take part in a blood orgy, and lick the boot of your master?”

“Bro, I ain’t in the Left Hand,” he scoffs.

“Nah, you’re just their bitch,” I retort. He tenses his jaw.

“I’m not sure I’d be so quick to talk shit when you’re the one locked in a fucking cell.” He’s right. I look around at my surroundings, and it’s stripped fucking bare. I have nothing. All the trappings of what had been offered before are gone. Not even as much as a nurse. Nor any padding.

Huh?

Stripped away.

The end.

I’m in a room.

Everything I want is just on the other side of that wall.

ROOOOOOAAAAAARR!!!!!!


[Image: 7j2mP00.png]



A figment of my mind. Or did John just tell me that for shits and giggles?

Who gets to define me?

You know the fucking answer.

You know the fucking answer.

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur destroys the wall. I destroy the wall. What’s the difference, in the end? The wall is still in pieces.

And the King King is at my mercy.

He falls.

The King falls.

And I, the fire that snuffed the flames.

In my arms, the child’s tears turn to laughter.




7D: A Song Of Tomorrow


“So what now?” I ask of The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur.

The Universe gives me the answer…






A ball of fire falls to Earth.






From above.






The void.






Vast.






Expansive.






Indefinite.






Gone.






Set aflame.






Rendered to dust.






A man sees it fall.






Cosmic remnants.






Gone..






Stellar collisions and supernovas.






Gone.




Moons. Suns. Stars.




Gone.




A phoenix.




Gone.






Life emergent. Life destroyed.






Life.




Gone.




The flame destroys the facility.




A wall of fire.




A wall.






[Image: NV4FM3Y.jpg]






In the flames, he sings.




##I was the broken one
None knew what it would mean
I was the hopeless one
Whom never should have been

I was the broken one
So I sought to make amends
I was the hopeless one
But on myself I could depend

I was the broken one
But today I step outside
I was the hopeless one
Now I’m free from my own mind##


The flames die.


Completely.


##I used to struggle comprehend
Now I know… this is the end##




He emerges on the other side.




As ever.






A ball of fire.





Eternal.






With one last fucking door to burn.





Five artifacts gathered. Five altars glow.

I step through the door.

“Hello.”




7E: A Song of Triumph

“Uh… Doctor?” The nurse says as she barrels through the door. The Doctor looks up from their busywork. No bother. Not much happening there.

"Yes?" they ask.

"The Patient is gone." The words hang in the air. The Doctor is stunned. They thought they were so close to a breakthrough!

But it ain't even their fucking story.

"What do you mean, gone?" they ask. Reaching for a remote, they press a button that brings a screen in their office to life. The padded cell isn't just empty. It's on fire.

And it's spreading.

"That’s… concerning."

They know what it means. They’ve felt it before.

~~~~~


Somewhere else, neither atop a mountain, nor in a cell. No void nor office. The Patient is not a patient.

He is that something else.

And surprisingly… he is in a wrestling ring.

Stripped away.

"Bored now.

The game was fun while it lasted, but now? Looks like you've thrown in the towel, DOC. It’s no fun when you don’t can’t play along anymore. Kudos on keeping up for as long as you did though.

What a time to be alive, eh? Here we are, rocketing down the path towards the biggest match on the biggest stage, as you so aptly put it in when you first stumbled out of the blocks. With everything on the line like this, on the grandest stakes of them all, you… the one with such a vaunted reputation… you save one last backtrack for us! The one whom everybody knows won’t disappoint…

He does.

You do.

A part of me wonders if this is all just some sort of trick. To lull me into a false sense of security, and just as I’m sitting down with a nice jam and cream scone to eat, BAM! The big bad wolf comes and blows my house down. Except… you’ve told me not to read so much into what you’re doing or saying. So in the interest of offering you an olive branch before we attempt to flay each other alive, I’m trying to listen and even respect our wishes there. A little bit, anyway. Ergo, this here? No tricks! Just DOC. Under my foot. Again.

You should know though, I haven’t even begun to throw everything at you. Not yet. Maaan, you should see what else there would have been in store for you, if not for… you know. But I'll hold onto that for now. Just for one more day. See, I don’t need to throw everything at you now. Nah, man. That comes at Relentless. I just hope that part of the reason you’ve been so limp-dicked is that you’re trying to hang on to whatever energy you’ve got left in those creaky bones of yours so that you at least get a few good shots in on my face. Lord knows you haven’t left a fucking mark yet.

Besides, all this jumping down your throat at every chance I get… is it really throwing everything at you if it's just what I do on the reg? I agree, DOC, we do seem like we’re going in circles. I fear we’re stuck at an impasse, and if you ask me, the end can’t soon e-fucking-nough. Not long now though. Ain’t that a relief?

I continue to be genuinely baffled by people like you, who think that there’s some sort of flaw in me taking your own words, putting a lil hot sauce on ‘em, and no… not shoving them back down your throat. I bend you over and stick them straight up your fucking ass. After I’ve de-plugged your head from it, that is. Hey, here’s a novel idea! Instead of bitching and moaning about me poking holes in your fucking narrative (TRIGGER), how about you stop saying so much stupid shit that I can so easily fire back at you? You said you were coming into this with a gun against your head. It’s probably not wise to keep loading the fucking barrel for me then.

What I’m hearing from you, DOC, is that somehow you think this is a me problem, instead of being a you problem. You waltzed in here trying to big-man me, acting like you don’t need to lower yourself into the filth that I swim in on the daily. It ain’t my fault that you then dipped your toe in the waters to check the temperature. I just did what vermin like me do. I bit that stumpy little fucker, and pulled your wrinkly ass ALL the way in. Go ahead though, use the ladder and pull yourself out like you’re trying to now. You’re just going to be standing on the sidelines, sopping wet, looking even more of a fool than you said you were at the start of all this.

I hope that everyone at home is hearing this! The great DOC D’VILLE is now so stripped down to his skivvies that he's gone on the fucking telly to seemingly take issue with me simply replying to what he's said about me. Like… at all. Am I exaggerating that? Am I twisting it out of context? I really don’t think I am. He’s out here, flaying like a fucking goober, saying that without anybody to trade barbs with, my fire would just die. Jesus tail-tucking Christ, I ain’t ever seen somebody run around with such thick blinkers on before. I need someone to battle? To respond to? Because there are absolutely no examples of me repeatedly beating people over the head who are too drunk to offer me any of their own words to chew on, right?

Imagine being so unfocused that you don’t even see this for what it is. This isn’t the fight. This is just the tenderising of the meat. I really thought it’d take a little longer though. Instead, you’re done, with nothing more to say. Shit, you’re practically cooked already! I know you think you’ve already made your point about May Day and War Games and all of that. The part that you’re missing is that I actually agree! You have made your point. It’s just that your point ranks pretty highly on the shit-take scale, especially when you hold it up to all the counterarguments made by the little boy here. That’s me, by the way, if you didn’t pick up on it. You’re being outplayed by someone you think is a fucking child. And so you get out the white-out once again and you keep ignoring all the excuses that you already made. Oh yeah, we’re back to that. Say you’ve ‘learned’ all you want, but that’s a song you’ve only started singing now - it sure as shit wasn’t the case after the last time that you ‘Got This Hand’, if you catch my drift. It ain’t even a fucking implication anymore. You’re a suspect without an alibi. And if you won’t speak any more on the topic of King Louie, then you’re practically fucking admitting it. There ain’t no pleading the fifth here. That king wasn’t quite the version of you that I’m dealing with now. You made that loud and clear from day fucking one of these shenanigans. Therefore, it’s a fucking excuse.

On the plus side, at least I think you’re being honest (have mercy!) about your motivations. Pity it just doesn't mean a damn. I guess after much debate, you’ve finally settled on where you stand on the whole ‘book’ front. Or maybe you just learned how to make your point clearer - less ‘wasted words’ and all that.

FUCK!

That’s your prerogative though, bud. I just don’t quite get it. I thought you wanted us to have a session? Kind of seems like a dunce move to not try and understand what makes your Patient tick, doesn’t it? So much for fucking learning something. Flip-flop, flip-flop. Et cetera, et cetera.

Good job backing me into the corner, DOC. Sounds like I’ve improved from that gun in the mouth then. Same principle though. Scratch, claw, bite, burn, EAT. Same fucking result as ever. Way to leave me nowhere else to go but ‘ever forward’. An even more sarcastic way to struggle to understand that people can turn to the fucking side. But fuck it, let’s show a little growth, shall we? You know damn well that if you leave that fruit just hanging there, then I'm going to snack on 'em, but let’s cut a different path. Just so we can finish this fucking thing on a high. Without further ado, let me metaphorically (TRIGGER) crack these knuckles o' mine and get to giving you a good verbal spanking, just the way you seem to want it!

…

…

…

How was that? Did I nail it? Probably brought a tear to your eye being reprieved from the double-fisting for a couple of seconds. That’s all I’m hearing from you, though DOC. I’m hearing that you’re begging me to stop. Oh no, you’d never admit it. I almost admire how proud you are. But you’re trying to paint a story that I shouldn’t say a fucking thing about all the bullshit that you spew, just because you fucked up. This isn’t a hall pass I’m giving myself, pal. I’m just not so fucking stupid as to… wait for it… BACK MYSELF INTO A CORNER with it. Ooh-weee! I’ve gosh darn done it again, haven’t I? Taken them purrdy words of yours, slapped some lipstick on ‘em, and acted like they ain’t still the fucking shits.

It’s okay, though, buddy. It’ll all be over soon. We’re only one sleep away from the finest fucking meal of the year. I fucking hope you’ve got something else in the tank, because I’m ready, baby.

I’m going to EAT LOU.

…

LOL!

Did I have you convinced that I had stopped all of that name nonsense? Probably not. Lou never gets fazed! Nah, just gets hung up on minor affronts to the way he wants to paint the world. Just like me! ’Inspired’ all right. What a fucking rort.

To be transparent with you, I'm really just doing it now because you’re getting so pissy about it. Who's unfocused again?

Better shape up and get what’s left of that addled mind straight. Tomorrow’s a big day!

And after I’ve chewed through you, if anyone else wants to come to the dinner party, then we’ll just let the cards fall where they may. Looking at you OCW.”

Looking at you, Corey.


~~~~~



The flames had reached the Doctor’s office. The heat was becoming unbearable. The nurse didn’t make it. Her crisped remains were still visible behind the licks of orange and red on the other side of the office window that opened up into that damned corridor.

The door fell inwards.

This was it.

The end.

“Hello.”




7F: XX_Progress Notes_210925

Patient Progress Notes
Date: 09/23/25Therapist: My AngelFacility: The Hospital
Patient: Age: 27◻ Female ☑ Male
Session length: ______☑ No session able to be conducted.
Treatment Issue: Patient has become too strong to contain. Need solutions.
Symptoms observed during session:
☑ aggression (physical)
☑ aggression (verbal)
☑ agitation
☑ anger
☑ anhedonia
☑ anxiety/fear
☑ appetite disturbance
☑ danger to others
☑ danger to self
☑ decreased energy/fatigue
☑ delusions		☑ depressed
☑ distractibility
☑ emotional lability
☑ feelings of worthlessness
☑ hallucinations (auditory)
☑ hallucinations (visual)
☑ hopelessness/ helplessness
☑ impulsivity
☑ irritability
☑ negative statements		☑ noncompliance (medical care)
☑ restlessness
☑ sad/pained/ worried expression
☑ self deprecation
☑ sleep disturbance
☑ socially inappropriate
☑ social withdrawal
☑ suicidal ideation or plan
☑ thought disorder
☑ other:
☑ other:
Diagnoses: None.
Intervention strategies implemented and session focus or theme: The Doctor is going to get their ass kicked.
Patient Response:☑ Marked improvement
◻ Some improvement		◻ Same functioning
◻ Symptoms worsening
Evidence of patient response: He’s here!
Future treatment/Follow-up: [Incomplete]
Signature of therapist/title: [Incomplete]





7G: A Song Of Endings


[Image: broken-record.gif]



Music welcomes me through the door, playing from an old record player.

The song:





“It was always going to end like this,” I tell My Angel. She sat in her office with her head bowed. The doctor’s warts and snaggletooth had brought a strange sort of comfort lately. This close to the… well, you know. Next to me, The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur growled. No translation needed. The baby played quietly in the corner.

Around us, everything burned save for the song.

“I know,” she says, accepting her fate.

“You know why I’m here,” I continue.

“I do,” she replies. But it’s not like that. It’s not what someone else would be thinking. Or at least… not quite.

I pick up a piece of paper. A progress report. An account of what they were trying to accomplish. A whole lot of boxes ticked by now. They failed though, didn’t they?

Everyone has failed.

I toss the paper into the fire.

More papers fall into my hands. A gift from The Universe.

Each burned to ash.

Ash, the Doctor.

Ash The Left Hand.

Ash, ---BLINK!---

Ash, Ever forward.

Ash, Que séra, séra.

This is the end.

The girl remains. She is from another world. A reality beyond me. I… I can’t change that world. Not yet.

As for the rest?

Ash, the artifacts.

Ash, the puppets.

Ash, the hospital.

Ash, that cold rock hurtling through space.

It has crashed. And burned.

The mystery. The intrigue. The facade.

Ash, it all.

Ash, The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur.

He disappears from beside me.

Before now, I never knew what it was that brought me here. I knew I needed to fight, but why here of all places? I know it now. The Universe opened up Everything for me. And along the way, the names and faces I met have unlocked so many doors.

I am exactly where I belong. And there is only one final piece that remains.

Me.

In my hands, a piece of paper. On the other side of it, my name.

One last choice.

Is who I was even important? In the grand scheme of things, I mean. Do I really wish to be beholden to a past that brought only struggle and torment? Or do I wish to let it all drift away? To be… free.


Click Here To Decide



Thank you. I love you.

I have made my choice. And I’m happy with it.

One way or the other, I know all that I need to. My name goes the way of everything else.

A memory of ash.

This is the end.

No more chasing ghosts. I went through my life, my history, once again, all to bring me here.

No more questions.

I know.

I know who I am.

And I can say those three words, never uttered.

I do say them. Now. To the void. As I am birthed back into reality.






























“I am Alias.”





















THE END.





























[Image: zg6onYy.gif]

.exe
]]> 7A: A Song Of Yesterday

OPENING CREDITS:



##He spoke of the end
From the mountains to the sea
This is it, the end##


- Part Seven -

“A SONG OF YESTERDAY”




I hadn’t thought that it could get any more secluded than that small settlement on the fringe of Seven Devils. I was wrong. I knew that it wasn’t the case, but there was something about the woods that always made me feel small. Like everything was shrinking. I followed the blue woman through a path that only she knew. I still wasn’t quite sure just how far I could trust her. She had a reputation for putting knives in people’s backs. And in their fronts. Here I was, though, hot on her trail. We were well into the day by now, but you wouldn’t know underneath the thick overgrowth.

The crack of a twig behind me told me how close the gruff man at the rear me was. Based on what I heard, I was confident that I could get out of dodge in time if he decided to get frisky. But I was here for a reason. The blue woman called herself Lycana, though I knew that wasn’t her real name. Her and Marf, the man who trailed behind, had a queer relationship. Lycana had asked him to stay behind. He refused. I did my best to stay out of it. It wasn't my fight. But it was interesting to get a peek behind the curtain with these here brigands. They weren't in agreement about it, but ultimately Marf wound up coming along for the trip. In the end, the girl just seemed to give in. I still didn’t quite understand why she was even helping me. When last we were together, she lit a match and I was the kindling. I think it left Marf confused as well. He wouldn’t even let me light a cigarette.

"This is it."

The curious gal stopped in her tracks. The world around us looked just as damp and dreary as it had been five minutes ago. I didn’t see much that was different about it. By the look on his face, neither did grizzled Marf. That gave me some comfort. It told me that if this was a ruse, at least he wasn’t in on it.

The comfort was short-lived. I became keenly aware of the feeling of eyes staring at the back of my head. I turned. Marf did the same, and actually joined me at my side. I didn’t know what to think of that. Two of the strangest figures that I ever saw were standing, motionless, next to the face of a rocky outcrop from the mountain that grew up above. I clenched my fists, and through the corner of my eye saw Marf do the same. Lycana, with all her wiles, stepped forward and spoke to these… people… if that was the word. She used a language I hadn’t ever heard before. And that was something, coming from me. They listened to her, and stepped back from us. The dame then stepped up to the mountain’s face and raised her hands.

“Ego vocare super terram et lapis… Ostende mihi viam, quod non est notum.”



---BLINK!---




There is a shining light.

There is a ringing bell.



---BLINK!---




”What are you doing?” I asked. But what I saw was unbelievable. Impossible, even.



---BLINK!---








Her hands glowed a brilliant hue of gold. As the elves - and make no mistake about it, I knew that was exactly what they were - bled back into the foliage at her request, I let my attention fall upon the magic before my eyes. A part of me wished that was a metaphor. But here, before me, I saw an arch appear on the cold stone, piercing its way at points through a coat of moss. The arch moved. It shifted back into the mountain, and a dark tunnel opened ahead. Lycana goes to enter.

“What are you doing?!” Marf calls to her, before she can step foot inside. “You’ve taken him this far.You hadn’t even brought me here until today. Why do you need to go any further?”

“I’m just trying to help,” she pleads back. The tension is palpable. A mere week ago, I would have been content to egg them on. To see their world break apart. But this is not a week ago, is it?

“It’s okay,” I interject. They both take their time registering that I had even spoken. Or at the very least, in reacting to it. Eventually, however, both sets of otherworldly eyes fall upon me. I look between them each. “I have it from here.”

“See?” Marf says, gesturing to me to make a point.

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” she replies. They’re having a conversation without me.

“Do you?” he jabs at her.

“What are you trying to say?” I don’t have time for this.

“Enough!” I shout. The sound of my voice pings across from rock wall to tree trunk and back again. They both shut up. “I don’t know what’s going on here. With the two of you, with me, with Betsy, with any of it. I don’t even know if I should fucking care about half of it. What I do know, is that I’m going into that cave. And unless there’s something in there that’s going to go BANG! BANG! or CHOP! CHOP! I don’t need you to follow, Lycana. Either way, I’m fucking going in.”

I know that wasn’t the most sensitive way of handling things. But I was so close to Everything. I could damn near reach out and finger bang it.

I could read Lycana’s face with ease. That was… odd and unlike her. She wanted to press on. It was like she wanted to be there for me. To his credit, at least from my perspective, Marf didn’t seem like he wanted to throttle me either. That was a plus. But his emotions were just as transparent as Lycana’s. He saw no need to get caught up in a battle that wasn’t his. I really couldn’t blame him.

Their conversation continues. That much I could tell. But it was a silent one, and a part of me was thankful for that. Keep me out of whatever fucking 90210 melodrama was going on between them. I had bigger fish to fry. Through their unspoken communication, they were still able to reach an agreement. Lycana crossed the woodlands floor, sweeping past me until she was standing by Marf’s side.

“Good luck,” she said to me as her skirt brushed my leg. I look over to the tunnel, and then back to the people who I had previously wished to see flogged, drawn, and quartered.

“Thank you,” I said to them both, making a deliberate attempt at eye contact with them both.

I didn’t wait for a response.

There was a room that nobody would expect to find underground in the middle of nowhere.

And I stepped into it.

##Into the darkness I will travel
Along the long and lonesome road
Guided by the moonlight on the gravel
Ever searching for a home

Into the darkness I will hurry
Unwilling to wait for dawn to break
Turning the path into a slurry
I think I’ve made a big mistake

Into the darkness I will wander
Lost and confused like I’m a mule
Upon my fate shall I ever ponder
Until the light reveals the truth##

A pause of my own reflection.

##Into the light I see so seldom
A ringing bell announces I am welcome##




7B: A Song Of Revelation

“You can’t be here!” shouts a portly woman as she rises from a wheeled chair. She scurries over to me as she tries to block me from entering any further.

Behind her, I could hear sounds not of this mountain. Whirs and beeps of the world outside. Further, even. At the very limits of what the world was capable of. I followed with my eyes as cables ran along the ceiling to a screen displaying three-dimensional models of human organs: heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, and more. At the sight of it, an off-putting part of me grew hungry.

You can relate, no?

“Miranda, is it?” I ask, resting attention back onto the woman. She stands with her hands on her hips, and a pained look across her face. Her eyes nodded though her head never moved. “It’s okay, Lycana brought me here.”

“She didn’t tell me you were coming,” the woman, Miranda, replies.

“To be fair, she didn’t know I was either until I got here,” I shrug. She didn’t like that. I could tell. Not that I knew her well. I tended to want to return the favour. I had a default inclination to not be very fond of her. Doctors, always poking and prodding.

“How do I know I can trust you?” she asks.

“I call upon the earth and stone. Show me the path that is not known.” I am quick with my reply. It’s the incantation that Lycana used to open the door, translated from Latin. I’m not sure if she knew that I understood it while she was uttering it. I also didn’t know if Miranda would know it herself. A shift in the doctor’s shoulders that indicates she does. “Are we good?”

Even her head nods this time.

“Can you take me to the Patient?” I ask.

“Uh… yeah. Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel and leads me further into the room. It isn’t a particularly large space. Sterile white walls, floors, and ceiling gave way to shiny chrome everything else. I spy a small nook behind one of the large machines that grinded with the sounds of life. A kitchenette was embedded into the far wall of the opening, and there were a couple of cots on which to sleep. The coupling continues as a couple of eyes also make themselves known. Miranda wasn’t alone down here. That’s good for her, I guess. I give a small wave to show that I’m no threat, and the eyes pull back.

The Patient dominated a small raised platform on one side of the room. Lying on a gurney that jutted out of the wall without any supporting braces underneath, tubes and coils wrapping their way from the body to the walls and life-saving equipment. The body, known to me first as The Baphomet, lay before me, kept from ever entering death’s door. I get a sort of twisted joy in what I see. Stuck in Limbo here, he can never see his will realised, one way or the other.

“Has there been any change?” I don’t take my eyes off him while I ask.

“Not since he was brought here,” she says. I guess that’s good. I take a step closer and muse to myself about how easy it would be to pull the plug right now. How easy it would be to send him on his way. Miranda couldn’t stop me. Whatever it was hiding in the nook back there couldn’t. I know that I could do it. For all our differences, I’m pretty sure Marf would throw a fucking party. Neither of us could really understand why Lycana had even kept the body alive. Maybe… without her even knowing… it was for me. Maybe it was for this moment.

With my left hand, I reach towards him.




Wait! What was that?

No! I stopped seeing these fucking things months ago! They can fuck right off!

But this… this is why I’m here.

I reach out once more.




“Raise the left hand…”


I hear a voice on the wind. But there is no breeze on which it travels.

I…

I…

I understand.

After nine long months, I raise my left hand.

And I bring it down upon his head.







I am nothing.

I am nowhere.

I am a voice inside a head.

I am not alone.



She is here.

She is something.

She is everywhere.

She is a voice without a mouth.



“My child, you have come. I have been waiting for this day.”

“I think I have too.”



I am empty.

I am darkness.

I am that which was before.

I am that which will be again.



“It is time. You have raised your hand. This is what you were made for.”

“I… I…”



I am me.

I am alive.



“I… I… What do you mean, ‘made for’?”

“Let me show you.”

And she does. I see myself in a cell. I throw myself against the walls until I bleed and break. They pad them; as much for the safety of their own structures as it is for me, but still I persist. I continue. I FIGHT.

But I am one of their structures. I see it now.

The upside down pentagram on a dagger. The vivid crucifixion of Christ upon the cross, hanging above the common room of the hospital facility.

I see The Left Hand.

Not The Baphomet, but others. A wide-reaching network of filth and degeneration. A twisted offshoot. And I am a part of it. Pumped full of drugs and beaten until I am no longer what I was.

I am me. I am alive.

And I am their creation.

“Come. Embrace me. Pick up from where The Baphomet left off and bring forth The Left Hand’s true purpose.”

“I… I…”



---BLINK!---




…

Nothing changed.

I am here.

She is there.

But…

There is a song. A beautiful melody in the back of my mind. Not her voice, no. Not anyone’s but my own. I am singing.

##When you see that shining light
When you hear that ringing bell
The end is drawing nigh
And you can't stop the swell

So let the waves crash down on him
Let him drown in his own way
He has fought and learned to swim
And he is here to stay!

He will stand up straight to face it
He’s not prepared to say goodbye
He will preach from his own pulpit
That it’s not time for him to die!##

Softer, my voice lingers.

##I am going to be okay. You’ll see.
The universe is rooting for me.##

And the chorus hits:

“I think you should kindly go fuck yourself.”

I fight! RELENTLESS!

I survive! RELENTLESS!

I burn this motherfucker to the ground!

RELENTLESS!

Say it with me, everyone: FUCK THE LEFT HAND!

“You were made for this, child! Now kneel!”

“Oh… haven’t you heard? I don’t fucking kneel. I’m the Anti-Doc. The Kingslayer. The Monster-Hunter. The War-Winner. The World-Beater.”

FUCK THE DOCTOR.

FUCK THE KING.


FUCK THE MONSTERS.

FUCK THE WARS.

FUCK THE WORLD.

FUCK IT ALL!

{{Trashy, word-wasting shit.}}

FUCK THE TRASHY GODS TOO!

“And babe… I’m the motherfucking Godkiller. Fuck you.”

FUCK YOU!


[Image: cr99Cyt.png]



I am the fire.

And the darkness fucking flees before me.

“You… you were corrupted. I see it now. I see who betrayed us.”

“Oh yeah? I’m going to be needing to see that for myself right about now.”

I reach into the memories of a god and pull the information out by force.

And I am swept away.




7C: A Song Of Freedom

The desert was nothing new to me. It was under that relentless sun that I first got the faintest hint of a life beyond what I had known. I had failed that night in Tombstone, almost a year ago. But the world didn’t end. I don’t think I ever quite appreciated that until now, as the warmth coddles me once more. There’s something liberating about it all. Here, where life is harshest, the only restrictions are those which you place upon yourself. And if you chose to live without any… well then, you get this.


[Image: yuioPwK.jpg]



The outside matched the inside. Bleak and barren. Minimalist, in a confronting way. He didn’t even ask any questions when I turned up on his doorstep. He looked at me from behind eyes that dreamed of a dying world, and he simply turned and walked back down the hallway. I wiped my feet on a mat outside, passed across the threshold, and shut the door behind me, before following him down the spartan corridor. It opens up into an open area that I presume is supposed to be a lounge, where my host has already fallen back into the crevices of a black leather chair, watching me intently.




“I don’t really need to introduce myself, do I?” I ask, taking a seat opposite him. He shakes his head without saying a word. “Thought as much. I feel like you already know why I’m here.”

“I have a good idea about it,” John Caedus replies, unblinking. “I’m more curious about how you found out.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let’s just call it ‘magic’ and leave it at that.” He cranes his head to the side, studying me.

“I would believe more than you think.” Now what is that supposed to mean exactly? I suppose it tracks, to an extent. I don’t know how much he has to do with his brother Jim anymore, but the younger Caedus has certainly leaned more towards being a ‘believer’ lately. At least that’s one way of describing it. I wonder what else John knows.

“You know my background too?” Yadda, yadda, yadda. I don’t need to say it. Everyone’s heard it all before. Right, Lou?

“Involuntary admission to hospital. Deprived of liberty for a decade. Penchant for setting everything alight.” He rattles everything off so dispassionately.

Oops, I said it anyway!

“That more or less covers it,” I say. “Turns out the whole hospital thing was a front for people to experiment on me and turn me into something… well… other. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He shifts in his seat and his eyes narrow.

“You were there,” I continue. “You helped them.”

“Well…” Whatever passes for a smirk on John’s face finds its way to the surface. “I did and I didn’t.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I demand.

“I was hired to do a job,” he begins. “Help some turn soldiers into better versions of themselves. From the looks of things, I’d say I did a pretty good job.”

I’m taken aback a little by his openness. I’d say that something about it feels off, but in truth, everything about John Caedus seems ‘off’.

“Except it wasn’t a soldier they were fucking around with,” I growl. “It was me.”

“It wasn’t part of the job to look into that,” he replies.

“That’s a fucking cop-out and you know it!” I rise, towering over him in a strange case of reversed fortunes. He looks up at me with the same level of indifference that I had shown to those I encountered in Boone and Seven Devils only a day ago.

“I suggest you sit down,” he quietly says, gesturing back towards the couch. I’m a child though, so I don’t listen.

“I suggest you tell me what the fuck you did to me.” I am not backing down. Not this close to everything. Not this close to the end.

“I showed them how to change how you think, that’s all.” ‘That’s all’? As if messing with my head is something on level with tying your shoelaces or pouring yourself a glass of water.

“They tortured me!”

I, the fire.

He, the arsonist.

As my voice rises, so too does John’s body. We stand, eye-to-eye, each staring into a tinderbox ready to blow.

“They made you stronger,” he tells me. “Besides, I left a little back-door in there for you, and it looks like you’ve found it.”

“What?” Answers! I’m here for answers, not more riddles!

“The pink critter.” By God, I think that’s a genuine smile on Caedus’s face. Bemusement, I think? “What was it again?”

“The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur,” I reply. And my heart stops.

The gravity of it all floods over me. A crashing wave that blots the light. A part of me knew it. Surely, a part of me knew it!

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur isn’t real.

I’m not special. I’m not unique. I’m not different. I’m just a scared little boy that monsters had their way with.

“That’s the one,” John says. I struggle to even hold attention to him. The world as I know it, is slipping away. “It’s a tool. You see that don’t you? A weapon. That mind of yours is free in every sense of the word. You’re not bound to them, or to anyone. You’re free to burn it all down as you see fit.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, meek and insignificant. He leans in close to me, whispering in my ear. I feel the hot rage of his voice.

“Because this world needs a good burning.” He pulls back, and turns towards a full-length window on one side of the room. John Caedus gazes out over the arid dust bowl that stretches towards the horizon. “Also, because I saw you coming before you ever even knocked on my door. I let them know you were here. They should be coming to get you in five… four… three…”

“You did what?!”

“...two…”

There’s no escape.

“...one.”

A dart hits my neck. The world grows blurry. John Caedus doesn’t pay me any mind, as I fall to the ground in a heap. The last thing that I hear is the sound of thumping feet.



The Ex-Victim wakes up.

Am I a creature of fire, in a magic ball of cold concrete, ready to be summoned?

No.

Not this time.

I am a Patient.

I always was.

I sit in a padded room, with not even a television screen to watch. Nothing to draw, nothing to Eat. Certainly no kitchen sink! Nothing to do save for gripping my knees and rocking. I could rage. I could throw myself against the wall. But what would be the use? It won’t budge. I know that. The Doctor told me.

So I sit. And I rock. And I wait. And I sing.

##These four walls are made of paper
Had I pencils, I would draw
But my muse begins to taper
The house turns into straw

I light a match and spark the flame
The walls tremble at its sight
All I need to do is say the name
And all of this will be set right

So I set fire to it all
And the ash falls in my wake
I had to rise before I fall
But destiny is mine to make##

Softer now. My body matching pace.

##The future’s not ours to see.
Whatever will be, will be.##

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Hello, in there! Are you feeling okay?

It’s not a nurse. No. And it doesn’t come from the square window

It’s my man in black.

Padding becomes a mirror. A mirror becomes a window. Intangible, but there, right in front of me. A light behind the glass reveals my fate.

Kieran King sits in a rocking chair, cradling the crying child. His brows furrow when he sees my face contort into a grin. Crooked and wide. I fall back onto the soft ground, and I laugh!


[Image: 7f2vxNf.png]



My ghosts of yesterday are here! Today! John fucking Caedus. He loves him some chaos, doesn’t he?

Kieran doesn’t get it. Of course he doesn’t. People like him never do. He thinks I’m trapped! Caged! Ripe for the picking. ‘Ever forward’ he thinks about the journey. No matter the twists and turns. But does he think about the destination? Do they ever?

The end.

He’s mere feet away from me. Served up on a platter, with just a wall between us. But I always find a way.

“You have something that I want,” I tell him. He coos down at the child.

“You are something that I want,” he says.

“Why?” I stand, staring through the window. “Have you ever stopped to ask that? When last we spoke, you told me that you were just trying to survive. All this, though, it’s for them. Not for you. Haven’t you ever wanted to be free of it? To be able to make your own decisions?”

He thinks upon this. Or so he feigns. A dismissive shrug gives away his indifference.

“That’s like… your opinion, man.” He tickles the still crying baby’s stomach.

“It is,” I agree. “It very much is. So what’s the deal now? You call the Doctor? Or whoever she answers to? Pledge allegiance to The Left Hand, put on a goat-mask, take part in a blood orgy, and lick the boot of your master?”

“Bro, I ain’t in the Left Hand,” he scoffs.

“Nah, you’re just their bitch,” I retort. He tenses his jaw.

“I’m not sure I’d be so quick to talk shit when you’re the one locked in a fucking cell.” He’s right. I look around at my surroundings, and it’s stripped fucking bare. I have nothing. All the trappings of what had been offered before are gone. Not even as much as a nurse. Nor any padding.

Huh?

Stripped away.

The end.

I’m in a room.

Everything I want is just on the other side of that wall.

ROOOOOOAAAAAARR!!!!!!


[Image: 7j2mP00.png]



A figment of my mind. Or did John just tell me that for shits and giggles?

Who gets to define me?

You know the fucking answer.

You know the fucking answer.

The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur destroys the wall. I destroy the wall. What’s the difference, in the end? The wall is still in pieces.

And the King King is at my mercy.

He falls.

The King falls.

And I, the fire that snuffed the flames.

In my arms, the child’s tears turn to laughter.




7D: A Song Of Tomorrow


“So what now?” I ask of The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur.

The Universe gives me the answer…






A ball of fire falls to Earth.






From above.






The void.






Vast.






Expansive.






Indefinite.






Gone.






Set aflame.






Rendered to dust.






A man sees it fall.






Cosmic remnants.






Gone..






Stellar collisions and supernovas.






Gone.




Moons. Suns. Stars.




Gone.




A phoenix.




Gone.






Life emergent. Life destroyed.






Life.




Gone.




The flame destroys the facility.




A wall of fire.




A wall.






[Image: NV4FM3Y.jpg]






In the flames, he sings.




##I was the broken one
None knew what it would mean
I was the hopeless one
Whom never should have been

I was the broken one
So I sought to make amends
I was the hopeless one
But on myself I could depend

I was the broken one
But today I step outside
I was the hopeless one
Now I’m free from my own mind##


The flames die.


Completely.


##I used to struggle comprehend
Now I know… this is the end##




He emerges on the other side.




As ever.






A ball of fire.





Eternal.






With one last fucking door to burn.





Five artifacts gathered. Five altars glow.

I step through the door.

“Hello.”




7E: A Song of Triumph

“Uh… Doctor?” The nurse says as she barrels through the door. The Doctor looks up from their busywork. No bother. Not much happening there.

"Yes?" they ask.

"The Patient is gone." The words hang in the air. The Doctor is stunned. They thought they were so close to a breakthrough!

But it ain't even their fucking story.

"What do you mean, gone?" they ask. Reaching for a remote, they press a button that brings a screen in their office to life. The padded cell isn't just empty. It's on fire.

And it's spreading.

"That’s… concerning."

They know what it means. They’ve felt it before.

~~~~~


Somewhere else, neither atop a mountain, nor in a cell. No void nor office. The Patient is not a patient.

He is that something else.

And surprisingly… he is in a wrestling ring.

Stripped away.

"Bored now.

The game was fun while it lasted, but now? Looks like you've thrown in the towel, DOC. It’s no fun when you don’t can’t play along anymore. Kudos on keeping up for as long as you did though.

What a time to be alive, eh? Here we are, rocketing down the path towards the biggest match on the biggest stage, as you so aptly put it in when you first stumbled out of the blocks. With everything on the line like this, on the grandest stakes of them all, you… the one with such a vaunted reputation… you save one last backtrack for us! The one whom everybody knows won’t disappoint…

He does.

You do.

A part of me wonders if this is all just some sort of trick. To lull me into a false sense of security, and just as I’m sitting down with a nice jam and cream scone to eat, BAM! The big bad wolf comes and blows my house down. Except… you’ve told me not to read so much into what you’re doing or saying. So in the interest of offering you an olive branch before we attempt to flay each other alive, I’m trying to listen and even respect our wishes there. A little bit, anyway. Ergo, this here? No tricks! Just DOC. Under my foot. Again.

You should know though, I haven’t even begun to throw everything at you. Not yet. Maaan, you should see what else there would have been in store for you, if not for… you know. But I'll hold onto that for now. Just for one more day. See, I don’t need to throw everything at you now. Nah, man. That comes at Relentless. I just hope that part of the reason you’ve been so limp-dicked is that you’re trying to hang on to whatever energy you’ve got left in those creaky bones of yours so that you at least get a few good shots in on my face. Lord knows you haven’t left a fucking mark yet.

Besides, all this jumping down your throat at every chance I get… is it really throwing everything at you if it's just what I do on the reg? I agree, DOC, we do seem like we’re going in circles. I fear we’re stuck at an impasse, and if you ask me, the end can’t soon e-fucking-nough. Not long now though. Ain’t that a relief?

I continue to be genuinely baffled by people like you, who think that there’s some sort of flaw in me taking your own words, putting a lil hot sauce on ‘em, and no… not shoving them back down your throat. I bend you over and stick them straight up your fucking ass. After I’ve de-plugged your head from it, that is. Hey, here’s a novel idea! Instead of bitching and moaning about me poking holes in your fucking narrative (TRIGGER), how about you stop saying so much stupid shit that I can so easily fire back at you? You said you were coming into this with a gun against your head. It’s probably not wise to keep loading the fucking barrel for me then.

What I’m hearing from you, DOC, is that somehow you think this is a me problem, instead of being a you problem. You waltzed in here trying to big-man me, acting like you don’t need to lower yourself into the filth that I swim in on the daily. It ain’t my fault that you then dipped your toe in the waters to check the temperature. I just did what vermin like me do. I bit that stumpy little fucker, and pulled your wrinkly ass ALL the way in. Go ahead though, use the ladder and pull yourself out like you’re trying to now. You’re just going to be standing on the sidelines, sopping wet, looking even more of a fool than you said you were at the start of all this.

I hope that everyone at home is hearing this! The great DOC D’VILLE is now so stripped down to his skivvies that he's gone on the fucking telly to seemingly take issue with me simply replying to what he's said about me. Like… at all. Am I exaggerating that? Am I twisting it out of context? I really don’t think I am. He’s out here, flaying like a fucking goober, saying that without anybody to trade barbs with, my fire would just die. Jesus tail-tucking Christ, I ain’t ever seen somebody run around with such thick blinkers on before. I need someone to battle? To respond to? Because there are absolutely no examples of me repeatedly beating people over the head who are too drunk to offer me any of their own words to chew on, right?

Imagine being so unfocused that you don’t even see this for what it is. This isn’t the fight. This is just the tenderising of the meat. I really thought it’d take a little longer though. Instead, you’re done, with nothing more to say. Shit, you’re practically cooked already! I know you think you’ve already made your point about May Day and War Games and all of that. The part that you’re missing is that I actually agree! You have made your point. It’s just that your point ranks pretty highly on the shit-take scale, especially when you hold it up to all the counterarguments made by the little boy here. That’s me, by the way, if you didn’t pick up on it. You’re being outplayed by someone you think is a fucking child. And so you get out the white-out once again and you keep ignoring all the excuses that you already made. Oh yeah, we’re back to that. Say you’ve ‘learned’ all you want, but that’s a song you’ve only started singing now - it sure as shit wasn’t the case after the last time that you ‘Got This Hand’, if you catch my drift. It ain’t even a fucking implication anymore. You’re a suspect without an alibi. And if you won’t speak any more on the topic of King Louie, then you’re practically fucking admitting it. There ain’t no pleading the fifth here. That king wasn’t quite the version of you that I’m dealing with now. You made that loud and clear from day fucking one of these shenanigans. Therefore, it’s a fucking excuse.

On the plus side, at least I think you’re being honest (have mercy!) about your motivations. Pity it just doesn't mean a damn. I guess after much debate, you’ve finally settled on where you stand on the whole ‘book’ front. Or maybe you just learned how to make your point clearer - less ‘wasted words’ and all that.

FUCK!

That’s your prerogative though, bud. I just don’t quite get it. I thought you wanted us to have a session? Kind of seems like a dunce move to not try and understand what makes your Patient tick, doesn’t it? So much for fucking learning something. Flip-flop, flip-flop. Et cetera, et cetera.

Good job backing me into the corner, DOC. Sounds like I’ve improved from that gun in the mouth then. Same principle though. Scratch, claw, bite, burn, EAT. Same fucking result as ever. Way to leave me nowhere else to go but ‘ever forward’. An even more sarcastic way to struggle to understand that people can turn to the fucking side. But fuck it, let’s show a little growth, shall we? You know damn well that if you leave that fruit just hanging there, then I'm going to snack on 'em, but let’s cut a different path. Just so we can finish this fucking thing on a high. Without further ado, let me metaphorically (TRIGGER) crack these knuckles o' mine and get to giving you a good verbal spanking, just the way you seem to want it!

…

…

…

How was that? Did I nail it? Probably brought a tear to your eye being reprieved from the double-fisting for a couple of seconds. That’s all I’m hearing from you, though DOC. I’m hearing that you’re begging me to stop. Oh no, you’d never admit it. I almost admire how proud you are. But you’re trying to paint a story that I shouldn’t say a fucking thing about all the bullshit that you spew, just because you fucked up. This isn’t a hall pass I’m giving myself, pal. I’m just not so fucking stupid as to… wait for it… BACK MYSELF INTO A CORNER with it. Ooh-weee! I’ve gosh darn done it again, haven’t I? Taken them purrdy words of yours, slapped some lipstick on ‘em, and acted like they ain’t still the fucking shits.

It’s okay, though, buddy. It’ll all be over soon. We’re only one sleep away from the finest fucking meal of the year. I fucking hope you’ve got something else in the tank, because I’m ready, baby.

I’m going to EAT LOU.

…

LOL!

Did I have you convinced that I had stopped all of that name nonsense? Probably not. Lou never gets fazed! Nah, just gets hung up on minor affronts to the way he wants to paint the world. Just like me! ’Inspired’ all right. What a fucking rort.

To be transparent with you, I'm really just doing it now because you’re getting so pissy about it. Who's unfocused again?

Better shape up and get what’s left of that addled mind straight. Tomorrow’s a big day!

And after I’ve chewed through you, if anyone else wants to come to the dinner party, then we’ll just let the cards fall where they may. Looking at you OCW.”

Looking at you, Corey.


~~~~~



The flames had reached the Doctor’s office. The heat was becoming unbearable. The nurse didn’t make it. Her crisped remains were still visible behind the licks of orange and red on the other side of the office window that opened up into that damned corridor.

The door fell inwards.

This was it.

The end.

“Hello.”




7F: XX_Progress Notes_210925

Patient Progress Notes
Date: 09/23/25Therapist: My AngelFacility: The Hospital
Patient: Age: 27◻ Female ☑ Male
Session length: ______☑ No session able to be conducted.
Treatment Issue: Patient has become too strong to contain. Need solutions.
Symptoms observed during session:
☑ aggression (physical)
☑ aggression (verbal)
☑ agitation
☑ anger
☑ anhedonia
☑ anxiety/fear
☑ appetite disturbance
☑ danger to others
☑ danger to self
☑ decreased energy/fatigue
☑ delusions		☑ depressed
☑ distractibility
☑ emotional lability
☑ feelings of worthlessness
☑ hallucinations (auditory)
☑ hallucinations (visual)
☑ hopelessness/ helplessness
☑ impulsivity
☑ irritability
☑ negative statements		☑ noncompliance (medical care)
☑ restlessness
☑ sad/pained/ worried expression
☑ self deprecation
☑ sleep disturbance
☑ socially inappropriate
☑ social withdrawal
☑ suicidal ideation or plan
☑ thought disorder
☑ other:
☑ other:
Diagnoses: None.
Intervention strategies implemented and session focus or theme: The Doctor is going to get their ass kicked.
Patient Response:☑ Marked improvement
◻ Some improvement		◻ Same functioning
◻ Symptoms worsening
Evidence of patient response: He’s here!
Future treatment/Follow-up: [Incomplete]
Signature of therapist/title: [Incomplete]





7G: A Song Of Endings


[Image: broken-record.gif]



Music welcomes me through the door, playing from an old record player.

The song:





“It was always going to end like this,” I tell My Angel. She sat in her office with her head bowed. The doctor’s warts and snaggletooth had brought a strange sort of comfort lately. This close to the… well, you know. Next to me, The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur growled. No translation needed. The baby played quietly in the corner.

Around us, everything burned save for the song.

“I know,” she says, accepting her fate.

“You know why I’m here,” I continue.

“I do,” she replies. But it’s not like that. It’s not what someone else would be thinking. Or at least… not quite.

I pick up a piece of paper. A progress report. An account of what they were trying to accomplish. A whole lot of boxes ticked by now. They failed though, didn’t they?

Everyone has failed.

I toss the paper into the fire.

More papers fall into my hands. A gift from The Universe.

Each burned to ash.

Ash, the Doctor.

Ash The Left Hand.

Ash, ---BLINK!---

Ash, Ever forward.

Ash, Que séra, séra.

This is the end.

The girl remains. She is from another world. A reality beyond me. I… I can’t change that world. Not yet.

As for the rest?

Ash, the artifacts.

Ash, the puppets.

Ash, the hospital.

Ash, that cold rock hurtling through space.

It has crashed. And burned.

The mystery. The intrigue. The facade.

Ash, it all.

Ash, The Salmon-Coloured Minotaur.

He disappears from beside me.

Before now, I never knew what it was that brought me here. I knew I needed to fight, but why here of all places? I know it now. The Universe opened up Everything for me. And along the way, the names and faces I met have unlocked so many doors.

I am exactly where I belong. And there is only one final piece that remains.

Me.

In my hands, a piece of paper. On the other side of it, my name.

One last choice.

Is who I was even important? In the grand scheme of things, I mean. Do I really wish to be beholden to a past that brought only struggle and torment? Or do I wish to let it all drift away? To be… free.


Click Here To Decide



Thank you. I love you.

I have made my choice. And I’m happy with it.

One way or the other, I know all that I need to. My name goes the way of everything else.

A memory of ash.

This is the end.

No more chasing ghosts. I went through my life, my history, once again, all to bring me here.

No more questions.

I know.

I know who I am.

And I can say those three words, never uttered.

I do say them. Now. To the void. As I am birthed back into reality.






























“I am Alias.”





















THE END.





























[Image: zg6onYy.gif]

.exe
]]> <![CDATA[22 and 1: A Lesson On The Past and The Future]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41963 Sat, 25 Sep 2021 21:27:54 -0700 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41963 “And the villain, the wretched cad and fiend… was defeated! He was cast out… and never heard from again…”

The storybook closes. The pull cord on the bedside lamp is yanked and the lights turn off.

A kiss on the forehead. Sheets tucked in.

Footsteps to the door.

“Good night, son. Sleep tight.”

“Dad…” A voice calls from the bed shakily.

“Was that story true?”

The father laughs. “True as any tale can be.”

“…So was the… Was the bad guy real…?”

The father laughs even harder.

“Oh! I wouldn’t worry about him, son. No ones heard from him in a long time… And the longer he stays gone, the weaker he gets. Don’t think about him. Just get some sleep.”

The father leaves the door open just a smidge, then leaves.

…

……

After a few seconds, a pair of small footsteps hit the floor. Tip-toeing to the bathroom.

A small hand reaches for a switch and the lights come on.

For a moment, it’s just a child, looking at himself in the mirror.

He can’t explain what possesses him to do what he does next. But he feels… profoundly compelled.

He leans his face as close to the mirror as he can… and whispers…


…

…

“Mark Flynn.”

…

…

“Mark Flynn.”

…

…

“Mar-“

Suddenly the light flickers and dies.

…

And a sinister laughter fills the room…

***

The camera pans through the speakeasy… NK sits behind the bar, dressed as a bartender, wiping the inside of a glass, giddy as a pig in shit.

And sitting at the bar, still dressed in his white zoot suit with black stripes…

The Most Hated Man in the XWF…

Overrated…

Free-Win…

Mark FUCKING Flynn.

A glass slides along the bar and rests neatly in his hand.

He swizzles the liquid around in the glass, before looking up at the camera and smiling.

“Thad.”

“Thaddeus Duke.”

“Good ol’ Thaddy War-Bucks!”

Flynn smiles wide.

“Did you think the greatest trash talker in XWF history would miss promoting this match?”

“Did you believe the man that tore Johnny Madison verbally in half... That melted Mastermind’s mind with only the machinations of his mouth... The single man that could shut up Three Times Better Sid Feder in his prime... Would really skip giving you a little verbal thrashing before this match?”

Flynn puts a hand to his chest, taking mock offense.

“Frankly, I’m hurt. And here I thought you’d been scouting me, Thaddy Boy.”

Flynn leans back against the bar comfortably from his stool, setting down his drink.

“See, that’s what I don’t get about this new generation, Thad… You all love to talk. But you don’t say anything.”

“I fought Dolly. I fought LSM. I fought the Wizard. I’ve fought a handful of people that really love to sneak in a little trash talk every time the camera’s on them.”

“The problem? It’s weak. It’s uninspired. It’s LACKING, Thad.”

“Shit like, where’s Flynn? Why’s Flynn so quiet?”

Flynn’s eyes defocus and he blindly palms his hands in the air…

“Flynn isn’t promoting the match?!? He’s falling behind! I can’t find his trash talk?!?! Where could he be?!? Is he scared?!?”

Flynn cackles and slams his hands on the bar.

“You know the people who say shit like that?”

“People who end up flat on their back, counting ceiling tiles and arena spotlights… Pounded into the mat, napping through a 3-count. Just another victim of Mark Flynn.”

Flynn reaches over and takes a sip of his drink. He breathes in, letting the bubbles percolate on his tongue... Then he sets it back down.

“You see, Thad. I’m old-school. When I want to tell a story, I tell a story.”

“And when I want to trash-talk… Like a cobra, I unleash a load of verbal black embalming fluid from my bottomless venom sac. And by the time I’m done unloading wave after wave of my rhetorical onslaught, I’m standing in front of a withered corpse.”

“A former threat.”

“Oh, you couldn’t find me in the dark? You were looking for me? Surprise, I was in front of you, with a baseball bat, letting you pitch into my strike zone so I could knock your words back down your fucking throat.”

“When I talk, I don’t need to talk a second time. The matter is resolved… Cuz I’ve fucking finished the conversation.”

Flynn rubs his hands together, smiling.

“Of course, Thad. That’s the only real overlap between your… choices in conversation topics and the choices of my most recent conquests.”

“Unlike your peers… You’re paying an amount of respect.”

“While other people like to imply I’m over the hill, past my prime… Dare I say, too old for another run with a belt.”

“You’ve referred to me as one of the best to ever run the ropes.”

“Which, get rid of ‘one of’, and you’ve got a factual statement.”

Flynn winks.

“You’ve said you’re looking for new challenges to push you to your limits... which is why you sought me out. That I’m one of the best... second only to you...”

Flynn smiles…

“Oh, Thad. You licensed some Beatles Covers… You Watched a couple of my Promos to nail my speech patterns… And you called me out three times…”

“You shut off your lights, looked in the mirror, and said ‘Mark Flynn’ three times…”

“And now, you’re staring down your worst nightmare. A fucking real-life bugaboo. A legend, a mythical hunter, spoken of only in whispers and murmurs, that feeds on prey.”

“Just.”

“Like.”

“You.”

“Thad.”

Flynn takes off his Pachuco hat and sets it on the bar.

“You listened to your Papa Sebastian’s stories about the Great Mark Flynn… But unlike my friend NK and the test he just passed, you might have taken the wrong lesson from the stories you heard...”

“And I know you said you have no interest of who I faced seven years ago… But deep down, I’m an educator, Thad.”

“I think the best way to prepare ourselves for the future is to learn from the past.”

“And I’m about to teach you just how hard you fucked up.”

Flynn stands up off his barstool and crosses the bar. He ends up next to a file cabinet standing against the wall.

“People act like I just got into the investigation game, Thad. That my new turn as a detective might be out-of-character…”

Flynn opens up the middle cabinet and his fingers start trickling through a number of files and folders…

“Truth is, I’ve been investigating my entire career.”

Flynn pulls out three folders…

Then shuts the cabinet.

He walks back to his stool and sets the folders down on the bar.

“See, Thad. You’re acting like I’m playing off in gimmick-land, dodging you.”

“Do you not understand that these stories are FOR you, Thaddeus?”

“The Kenta Kobayashi Maru. I need you to understand that this exercise is for your edification, Thad, my boy. I’m desperately trying to help you understand the situation you put yourself in...”

“The test you can’t pass? That’s you, Thad. You’re the exam everyone is sure I’m doomed to fail against. Thinking there’s no way I’ll find a path through.”

“And in those fights… Where I get called ‘Overrated’, where I get called ‘King of the Mid-Carders’... where I get called a ‘Free-Win’? Those fights are the ones where I have a very… VERY GOOD record in…”

“I’m a Big Game Hunter, Thad. You’re the best to ever do it? I’m so fucking glad to hear it.”

“Cuz those that call themselves ‘the best’ are the guys I get the biggest fucking thrill from striking down.”

Flynn grabs the first folder off the bar.

“Hope you’re ready for a history lesson, Thad. Cuz we’re going way back.”

“To some of the first cases I ever worked…”

“And the hunting trophies I claimed along the way…”

***

THE CASE OF THE ITALIAN DJ
PERP: TRISTAN SLATER


I was new to the beat. At that point, I had only turned a few heads working the streets. But in no time, I’d taken down an ex-serial killer and ended a few small-time nogoodniks.

Before you knew it, I got called up to the big leagues. Working opposite the World Heavyweight Champion. THE Tristan Slater. A blonde-haired blue-eyed slab of beef that looked like a doodle Hitler probably drew in the margins of his trapper-keeper before he failed out of art school.

Slater was a killer. Hell, he was a killer’s killer. Jose Chavez. Chuck. Caleb Rothchild. These are names and careers that evaporated out of the history books. Footnotes hiding shattered dreams. Potentials snuffed out after coming up short against THE Tristan Slater.

He had 16 wins under his belt and not a loss to his name.

And I was next in the batting order. Or the gallows, depending on how you look at it.

I’m not exaggerating. At the time, the XWF was Slater and beneath him, a death row of talent that would sign a contract, lose and get the axe. Slater hadn’t shied away from that either. He had organized a grotesque calendar tour of conquests, basically marking each superstar’s death day from the industry.

I’ll never forget my own death day. August 15th, 2012.

I aimed down the sights of a pea-shooter. And got blown away by a Colt 45. Outgunned, outshot, outperformed. My first shot at the top title ended with me coming up short. Just like everybody else who had tried.

And for a split-second, my career looked as dead as a doornail at a disco for dodos. But, other people losing to Slater killed their appetite. Me? It only made me hungry…

I got… creative. Went Full “Gimmick-Land”, as you might say…

I wore a mask. Just like I did against you the first time we met, Thad. I dressed like an Italian DJ, Robert Miles, that guy who made that trance music so people wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel? Apparently, he bit the bullet a few years later. Never met him. Just thought he looked enough like a guy wearing a plastic mask that I could pull it off.

I wasn’t wrong.

“Robert Miles” played the part of a valet for a drunken Russian boxer from Nintendo Fun Club Wrestling. I bided my time with a joke belt… Watching and waiting… Prodding Slater from outside… Picking apart his mental defenses…

See, Slater, as I mentioned, had his whole career mapped out. He wasn’t concentrating on the here-and-now. He was daydreaming on how he was going to beat The Brand’s undefeated streak. How he was going to break 42 and 0. He swept through his planned routing of the entire roster, but I began to circle his daily meal and it frustrated him to his core… That some insect, some gnat was going to try to fuck up his parade course of victories.

He was obsessed with cementing his future legendary status… And he lacked… focus.

I picked up a 24/7 briefcase. The game’s equivalent of a desert eagle. And I came up behind Slater. And I blew him to Hell.

I took the belt. He got it back in a rematch.

A child that wasn’t paying attention to the details might take the wrong lesson here, Thad. He might believe that I needed a briefcase to win and that Slater proved it was a fluke when he took it back.

But, I wasn’t done yet. I wouldn’t be done until I’d evened the score…

2 months later, THE Tristan Slater and I faced off. Both aiming for a mid-card belt, the European Championship. Something Slater said was beneath him. He planned to throw it in the garbage after he won it.

He was still thinking about the future, even then.

Another competitor in the match had started off their promo congratulating him for winning. Because how could Slater lose? Not counting briefcase cash-ins…

His wrestling record was 22-0.

I was somewhat less eager to crown him King… Because I’d just spent the last two months whittling away everything he was. His self-assuredness, his cocky attitude… He had just come back from a break he needed to ‘find his smile again’. And I knew when you pull a piranha out of the river… He doesn’t flop back in and start hunting… His gills are full of air… He suffocates, surrounded by that which gives him life… The predator becomes easy prey.

That night, I beat him legitimately. No briefcase. His first ever loss in his entire career. A man everyone considered untouchable had been fucking sullied... with a loss to Mark Flynn.

22 wins.

1 loss.

The European Title never touched a trash can.

Thought the same can’t be said for Slater’s career…

***

Flynn peers into the records.

Flynn snaps the case shut.

“A fool might say I proved I was better than Slater.”

“But, you and I know better, Thad.”

“A match isn’t about who’s the best of all-time.”

“It’s about who’s best right now. This moment.”

“The thing that allowed me to surpass Slater that night… was full-focus.”

“Slater never found his focus again… and his career was never quite the same…”

Flynn chuckles fondly.

“‘Never Quite the Same’... Isn’t that what your dear old dad said? When you went back and watched my matches with your old man, way back when? I was a legend that lost to your papa and never quite got my mojo back…”

“It’s possible your dear old dad never told you about my other big-game trophy… After he got the better of me...”

Flynn opens another case.

“This is the story of the real man who killed me. And what I did to him when I came back...”

***

THE CASE OF THE ZENITH OF ZEALOTS
PERP: ELI JAMES IV


The year was 2014… I woke up six feet under and felt every inch of the earth I’d been shallowly buried under. I dug like a mole night and day… crawling my way out of terra firma, waking up in a graveyard with a dozen other forgotten names.

Still never learned who the fuck Jack Hoff was...

Some young gun had managed to sneak up behind me and put a slug in my back. I’d gone from being the hunter to the trophy.

The problem was… They forgot to double-check their work and ended up leaving the job half-done.

I hit the streets trying to gather clues. It wasn’t much work, because the kid had spent the last six months telling people he’d done in Flynn after every hello and before every goodbye.

Eli James IV.

He had been preaching his own name… Putting himself on high. When people asked for proof to back up his claims, he’d drop my name. If someone tried to call his bullshit, my name entered the mix.

I’d become a killing curse for a cultist cleric.

My name was a wizard’s spell… as it were.

Just like how you found me, Thad… Theo Pryce was looking in parts of the library they tell you kids not to explore… And he found where you could dig up Mark Flynn…

Theo wanted the Trios belt… but I had my sights set on other goals...

I saw across the ring the man who killed me. And somehow I felt it every time he lobbed my name at some poor schmuck… And I knew the time had come for vengeance…

I attacked Eli, dragged him outside the ring and flayed into him with every spiteful cry, the embodiment of the vengeful anger that those he had laid in his wake still blazed from their graves…

Theo didn’t get his belt that night, but I got what I wanted… The first step into Eli’s mind.

A month later, we were in the ring together. One-on-one.

Again, plans were made for Eli’s coronation. Get this, Thad. His singles record?

22-0.

You can’t make that kinda shit up.

I screamed like a banshee that week. I howled with the great and furious anger of a dead man, laid low by a coward’s ambush…

Eli had little to say in retort. Mild corrections, but he could not deny the truth.

He could not take back his weaponizing of my name...

And at the end of the night…

Eli James’ singles record was 22 wins.

1 loss.

Just another head in the trophy case.

For Mark Fucking Flynn.

***

Flynn closes the case file.

“Eli didn’t lack focus, but he had bit off more than he could chew.”

“He had me beat on an off-week and decided from a lucky break that he could wield my name like a fucking holy weapon of his divine right.”

“And he had earned it. He had my name in his W column.”

“But it’s a two way street, Thad. And when you go calling out someone’s name… Don’t be surprised when they come looking for you.”

“When people go hunting for Flynn, sometimes they get the better of him. Sometimes, they even put him down in the ground. They say a few words, drop a handful of earth and call him a corpse...”

“But I haven’t been dropped into a grave yet that I didn’t climb out of. And when I get back to the surface… I’m very, very dangerous to those who keep my name on their tongues…”

“Like you have, Thad.”

“Of course, you might be confident because you grew up getting tucked into bed with stories of your dad getting the better of Old Man Flynn. Visions on the inside of your sleepy little eyelids of your father’s triumphant victory over the monster that lives in the woods...”

“Maybe you really still believe I was never the same after your papa pulled out the win…”

Flynn reaches behind him and claws in the last file...

“Let me… re-educate you…”

***

THE CASE OF THE FOCUSED FATHER
PERP: SEBASTIAN DUKE ...MARK FLYNN


Yep.

I was at the top of the world. The US Title around my waist. My second reign as the XWF World Champion… They’d thrown away the World Heavyweight Belt due to Slater’s ALLEGED substance issues.

The guy was in the middle of a messy divorce. He wrestled his last match the same week he was testifying for custody of his son.

So, the US Title was the de facto king’s crown. And I wore it with pride.

I had been promoting an upcoming showdown with Angelus, my foil in the XWF at the time…

I’d been itching from a distance to tangle with my next big case… Mister Mystery, the zombified corpse everyone was terrified of coming anywhere near…

I was salivating about the upcoming Gauntlet City where I would vy to become the King of the XWF…

I was a kid in a candy shop.

I’d made the same mistake Slater had before me… I started planning my conquest of the entire globe and lost track of what was happening behind my back.

I made the ultimate mistake.

I.

Lost.

Focus.

The week your dad and I met… I’d spent more words tangling with Johnny Madison… Mister Mystery… Unknown Soldier… Angelus.. By the time I got to your dad, he had me right where he wanted me. In the sights of his gun. Dead to rights.

No cover to hide behind.

Spent bullets in my chambers and empty pockets…

Which is probably where I learned to save the trash talk for just… the right… time.

Sebastian knew how to ration his artillery.

He didn’t fire until he saw the whites of my eyes...

He had won a war of attrition. A brilliant victory play.

Duke’s victory that night would educate me of the folly of my ways. And introduce me to a new… method.

That was the night… The Optimal Path first appeared in front of me.

It took time, fermenting in my morphine-addled mind… But, once the idea took root, my path became clear.

The path that would lead to my return to the top of the XWF…

...

I refuse to discount your dad. Credit where credit is due. And full credit is due to ol’ Sebastian.

Papa Duke is one of the greatest XWF wrestlers of all-time.

One of.

Wink.

But, his big win? His US Title win? Something that will never be repeated.

He didn’t get lucky. He earned the kill that cold March night. But we both know how he picked up his win over Overrated Mark Flynn...

He was focused.

I was not.

A mistake I will NEVER make again.

***
Flynn snaps the last case file shut.

“Now, Thad. Thank you for your patience. I’m sure you’re asking, like most of you young people around here do… What the fuck does any of this have to do with me? Thaddeus Duke! The Greatest XWF Superstar to Ever Wrestle!”

“Not just a future XWF Hall of Famer! But the OCW Savage Champion, a company whose Hall of Fame I'm also campaigning for a spot in!”

“And I have an upcoming feud to blow off against Corey Smith that I’m planning down the line! As well as a feud with Dolly Waters! My calendar is getting booked for six months in advance now!”

“And then, you’ve got my fucking TV miniseries appearance on THE SPLAT NETWORK!”

[Image: 7IXwgn7.jpg]

“MY UPCOMING RECURRING ROLE ON MORNING STAR PRODUCTIONS' "THE AFTERLIFE"!”

[Image: elaEiTf.png]

"MY CONSTANT FUCKING SOCIAL MEDIA FEUDS!”

[Image: MMTy4bW.png]

“I’M A BRAND, FLYNN! I’M PEPSI, I’M AMAZON! CATCH MY FUCKING KIDS’ NEW REALITY TV MINI-SERIES ON INSTAGRAM LIVE! CHECK OUT THE CELLS ON THE RIM OF MY FRESHLY BLEACHED ANUS SPLIT VIA MITOSIS ON MY FUCKING MICROSCOPE’S TIKTOK ACCOUNT!”

“WHAT'S THAT?!? OF COURSE, I’M FOCUSED ON YOU FLYNN! WHAT ON EARTH WOULD MAKE YOU THINK OTHERWISE?!?!?!”

Flynn pitches his glass against the back wall of the bar like a fastball. The glass clips the top of a bottle of liquor… and its contents flow and cascade down to the floor…

NK sighs and reaches under the bar and retrieves a mop… He starts cleaning the mess.

Flynn spins back and looks at the camera with fire in his eyes.

”I won’t say you’re not a threat, Thad. Because you are.”

“I’ve taken on the best this company’s ever had walking down its halls in its 22 year history.”

“And I’m excited for this, Thad. This is thrilling for me.”

“I’m a big game hunter, Thad. And beating you will feel like bringing home a goddamn dragon’s head to mount on my wall.”

“But I’m as serious as cancer.”

Flynn winks.

“When I say.”

“You.”

“Lack.”

“Focus.”

“I won’t say you’re not focused at all. And honestly, your most recent matches? Reggie Estrada and Ciela Luiz?”

“You could have beaten them while planning out a Thanksgiving dinner for your whole royal family..”

“Me? I’ll require a little more of your concentration.”

Flynn smiles.

“I know, Thad, I know… You were harping on me picking on you for your lack of focus in your first promo of the match… Pointing out you’d been calling me out for 2 months, that you’ve been begging like a kid on Christmas Eve to open your present… to get in the ring with me… Isn’t that focus enough?”

Flynn shakes his head, without breaking eye contact with the camera.

“No.”

“It’s fucking not.”

“Because, it’s not enough to go into a match with Mark Flynn, regular focused.”

“It requires FULL FOCUS.”

“I don’t have a TV Show appearance the night after Relentless, Thad. My last sitcom was seven years ago and until Gator starts trying to pin me again or Paramount Plus calls, there’s no reboot in the works.”

“I haven’t been in a commercial since I dropped the X-Treme Title.”

“I don’t have an acting agent, a book deal, or a Twitch schedule. Because I’m not a FUCKING part-timer.”

“I have no idea what my wrestling calendar looks like the night after Relentless.”

“I don’t even have a fucking flight booked out of Chicago.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the last event in my fucking life is that Ironman match and I’ll be taking every breath in my body, every red blood cell in my veins, every fucking microjoule of energy running down my spinal column and using it to CRUSH you… Thaddeus Duke.”

“THAT’S WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY I AM FULLY FOCUSED.”

“...”

“Can you say the same, Thad?”

“Are you treating this match like it’s your fucking masterpiece? The culmination of everything you’ve ever bled, ever sweat, ever vomited for the love of this sport?”

“Or somewhere, deep down… Are you thinking about what’s coming up next? Your next match? Your next photo op? Your next breakfast time Instagram post? The next fed you’ll show up in? Your next late night appearance on JIMMY FUCKING FALLON?”

“When you were watching game tape to study up for this match… Were you reaching for your phone to live-tweet like you do when you watch OCW, subtweeting all your new pals into being humiliated?”

“Are you thinking about your kids? Are you thinking about their happiness?”

“Are you thinking about your people? Are you thinking about their survival?”

“Cuz let me tell you something, Thad. If you’ve let your mind drift one half of a split-fucking-second. If you take your eye off the ball in the ring, for a fraction of a modicum of an INSTANT…”

Flynn snaps his fingers.

“You’re already dead.”

“I’ve got a wide arsenal of tricks and treats, Thad.”

“But my deadliest weapon will always be…”

“FULL.”

“FOCUS.”

“And going into Relentless? I have it.”

“And you don’t.”

Flynn leans back and takes a deep breath, satisfied. He is completely in the moment.

“Thad. Kid. Young blood.”

Flynn beckons and the camera tightens in his face.

“You’re deserving of this fate.”

“You’ve done everything in your power to demand this match. You cried, whined and begged for a man gone seven long years to return for some dream match you imagined from dreams of your father’s days…”

“And you’re about to lose in glorious fashion on the biggest stage possible.”

Flynn cackles.

“It’s true what they say. Be careful what you wish for.”

Flynn cracks his neck.

“And I can’t wait to do this, Thad. I can’t wait to be the fitting, LOGICAL CONCLUSION to your tyrannical dominant reign over Warfare.”

“I can’t wait until your legacy as Hart champion is cast permanently into the past, that belt a relic of a time when you were ‘the best’ and ‘at your peak’… and your accomplishments become a distant memory… while I carry the SuperContinental belt as my first trophy to a new era… of Mark FUCKING Flynn. Seven years later and STILL Taking down “the best” at ‘their peak’.”

“Like you said, Thad. You’re only 22.”

“You’ve had 22 years without a real challenge. 22 years of stomping around the jungle like a prideful gazelle, thinking you’re the king of the Serengeti… 22 years of chewing through chaff and dry grass like Reggie Estrada and Ciela Luiz...”

“Unaware that your preening and prancing has caught the attention of a leopard, returning to his old hunting grounds… salivating at the though of sinking his teeth into your jugular vein and dining on your fucking carcass as you choke on your own blood.”

Flynn smiles deviously.

“You’ve had 22 years of thinking you were the best in the world. The best that this business had to offer, Thad.”

“But after Relentless? As we look upon the dawn of a new year in the XWF?”

“That figure is going to be…”

“22.”

Flynn sticks an index finger in the air.

“And 1.”

“The start of year one of knowing better. Knowing that the best man to ever run these ropes… is named Mark.”

“FUCKING.”

“Flynn.”

Flynn cackles heartily. NK flips a switch behind the bar and the lights go out.]]> “And the villain, the wretched cad and fiend… was defeated! He was cast out… and never heard from again…”

The storybook closes. The pull cord on the bedside lamp is yanked and the lights turn off.

A kiss on the forehead. Sheets tucked in.

Footsteps to the door.

“Good night, son. Sleep tight.”

“Dad…” A voice calls from the bed shakily.

“Was that story true?”

The father laughs. “True as any tale can be.”

“…So was the… Was the bad guy real…?”

The father laughs even harder.

“Oh! I wouldn’t worry about him, son. No ones heard from him in a long time… And the longer he stays gone, the weaker he gets. Don’t think about him. Just get some sleep.”

The father leaves the door open just a smidge, then leaves.

…

……

After a few seconds, a pair of small footsteps hit the floor. Tip-toeing to the bathroom.

A small hand reaches for a switch and the lights come on.

For a moment, it’s just a child, looking at himself in the mirror.

He can’t explain what possesses him to do what he does next. But he feels… profoundly compelled.

He leans his face as close to the mirror as he can… and whispers…


…

…

“Mark Flynn.”

…

…

“Mark Flynn.”

…

…

“Mar-“

Suddenly the light flickers and dies.

…

And a sinister laughter fills the room…

***

The camera pans through the speakeasy… NK sits behind the bar, dressed as a bartender, wiping the inside of a glass, giddy as a pig in shit.

And sitting at the bar, still dressed in his white zoot suit with black stripes…

The Most Hated Man in the XWF…

Overrated…

Free-Win…

Mark FUCKING Flynn.

A glass slides along the bar and rests neatly in his hand.

He swizzles the liquid around in the glass, before looking up at the camera and smiling.

“Thad.”

“Thaddeus Duke.”

“Good ol’ Thaddy War-Bucks!”

Flynn smiles wide.

“Did you think the greatest trash talker in XWF history would miss promoting this match?”

“Did you believe the man that tore Johnny Madison verbally in half... That melted Mastermind’s mind with only the machinations of his mouth... The single man that could shut up Three Times Better Sid Feder in his prime... Would really skip giving you a little verbal thrashing before this match?”

Flynn puts a hand to his chest, taking mock offense.

“Frankly, I’m hurt. And here I thought you’d been scouting me, Thaddy Boy.”

Flynn leans back against the bar comfortably from his stool, setting down his drink.

“See, that’s what I don’t get about this new generation, Thad… You all love to talk. But you don’t say anything.”

“I fought Dolly. I fought LSM. I fought the Wizard. I’ve fought a handful of people that really love to sneak in a little trash talk every time the camera’s on them.”

“The problem? It’s weak. It’s uninspired. It’s LACKING, Thad.”

“Shit like, where’s Flynn? Why’s Flynn so quiet?”

Flynn’s eyes defocus and he blindly palms his hands in the air…

“Flynn isn’t promoting the match?!? He’s falling behind! I can’t find his trash talk?!?! Where could he be?!? Is he scared?!?”

Flynn cackles and slams his hands on the bar.

“You know the people who say shit like that?”

“People who end up flat on their back, counting ceiling tiles and arena spotlights… Pounded into the mat, napping through a 3-count. Just another victim of Mark Flynn.”

Flynn reaches over and takes a sip of his drink. He breathes in, letting the bubbles percolate on his tongue... Then he sets it back down.

“You see, Thad. I’m old-school. When I want to tell a story, I tell a story.”

“And when I want to trash-talk… Like a cobra, I unleash a load of verbal black embalming fluid from my bottomless venom sac. And by the time I’m done unloading wave after wave of my rhetorical onslaught, I’m standing in front of a withered corpse.”

“A former threat.”

“Oh, you couldn’t find me in the dark? You were looking for me? Surprise, I was in front of you, with a baseball bat, letting you pitch into my strike zone so I could knock your words back down your fucking throat.”

“When I talk, I don’t need to talk a second time. The matter is resolved… Cuz I’ve fucking finished the conversation.”

Flynn rubs his hands together, smiling.

“Of course, Thad. That’s the only real overlap between your… choices in conversation topics and the choices of my most recent conquests.”

“Unlike your peers… You’re paying an amount of respect.”

“While other people like to imply I’m over the hill, past my prime… Dare I say, too old for another run with a belt.”

“You’ve referred to me as one of the best to ever run the ropes.”

“Which, get rid of ‘one of’, and you’ve got a factual statement.”

Flynn winks.

“You’ve said you’re looking for new challenges to push you to your limits... which is why you sought me out. That I’m one of the best... second only to you...”

Flynn smiles…

“Oh, Thad. You licensed some Beatles Covers… You Watched a couple of my Promos to nail my speech patterns… And you called me out three times…”

“You shut off your lights, looked in the mirror, and said ‘Mark Flynn’ three times…”

“And now, you’re staring down your worst nightmare. A fucking real-life bugaboo. A legend, a mythical hunter, spoken of only in whispers and murmurs, that feeds on prey.”

“Just.”

“Like.”

“You.”

“Thad.”

Flynn takes off his Pachuco hat and sets it on the bar.

“You listened to your Papa Sebastian’s stories about the Great Mark Flynn… But unlike my friend NK and the test he just passed, you might have taken the wrong lesson from the stories you heard...”

“And I know you said you have no interest of who I faced seven years ago… But deep down, I’m an educator, Thad.”

“I think the best way to prepare ourselves for the future is to learn from the past.”

“And I’m about to teach you just how hard you fucked up.”

Flynn stands up off his barstool and crosses the bar. He ends up next to a file cabinet standing against the wall.

“People act like I just got into the investigation game, Thad. That my new turn as a detective might be out-of-character…”

Flynn opens up the middle cabinet and his fingers start trickling through a number of files and folders…

“Truth is, I’ve been investigating my entire career.”

Flynn pulls out three folders…

Then shuts the cabinet.

He walks back to his stool and sets the folders down on the bar.

“See, Thad. You’re acting like I’m playing off in gimmick-land, dodging you.”

“Do you not understand that these stories are FOR you, Thaddeus?”

“The Kenta Kobayashi Maru. I need you to understand that this exercise is for your edification, Thad, my boy. I’m desperately trying to help you understand the situation you put yourself in...”

“The test you can’t pass? That’s you, Thad. You’re the exam everyone is sure I’m doomed to fail against. Thinking there’s no way I’ll find a path through.”

“And in those fights… Where I get called ‘Overrated’, where I get called ‘King of the Mid-Carders’... where I get called a ‘Free-Win’? Those fights are the ones where I have a very… VERY GOOD record in…”

“I’m a Big Game Hunter, Thad. You’re the best to ever do it? I’m so fucking glad to hear it.”

“Cuz those that call themselves ‘the best’ are the guys I get the biggest fucking thrill from striking down.”

Flynn grabs the first folder off the bar.

“Hope you’re ready for a history lesson, Thad. Cuz we’re going way back.”

“To some of the first cases I ever worked…”

“And the hunting trophies I claimed along the way…”

***

THE CASE OF THE ITALIAN DJ
PERP: TRISTAN SLATER


I was new to the beat. At that point, I had only turned a few heads working the streets. But in no time, I’d taken down an ex-serial killer and ended a few small-time nogoodniks.

Before you knew it, I got called up to the big leagues. Working opposite the World Heavyweight Champion. THE Tristan Slater. A blonde-haired blue-eyed slab of beef that looked like a doodle Hitler probably drew in the margins of his trapper-keeper before he failed out of art school.

Slater was a killer. Hell, he was a killer’s killer. Jose Chavez. Chuck. Caleb Rothchild. These are names and careers that evaporated out of the history books. Footnotes hiding shattered dreams. Potentials snuffed out after coming up short against THE Tristan Slater.

He had 16 wins under his belt and not a loss to his name.

And I was next in the batting order. Or the gallows, depending on how you look at it.

I’m not exaggerating. At the time, the XWF was Slater and beneath him, a death row of talent that would sign a contract, lose and get the axe. Slater hadn’t shied away from that either. He had organized a grotesque calendar tour of conquests, basically marking each superstar’s death day from the industry.

I’ll never forget my own death day. August 15th, 2012.

I aimed down the sights of a pea-shooter. And got blown away by a Colt 45. Outgunned, outshot, outperformed. My first shot at the top title ended with me coming up short. Just like everybody else who had tried.

And for a split-second, my career looked as dead as a doornail at a disco for dodos. But, other people losing to Slater killed their appetite. Me? It only made me hungry…

I got… creative. Went Full “Gimmick-Land”, as you might say…

I wore a mask. Just like I did against you the first time we met, Thad. I dressed like an Italian DJ, Robert Miles, that guy who made that trance music so people wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel? Apparently, he bit the bullet a few years later. Never met him. Just thought he looked enough like a guy wearing a plastic mask that I could pull it off.

I wasn’t wrong.

“Robert Miles” played the part of a valet for a drunken Russian boxer from Nintendo Fun Club Wrestling. I bided my time with a joke belt… Watching and waiting… Prodding Slater from outside… Picking apart his mental defenses…

See, Slater, as I mentioned, had his whole career mapped out. He wasn’t concentrating on the here-and-now. He was daydreaming on how he was going to beat The Brand’s undefeated streak. How he was going to break 42 and 0. He swept through his planned routing of the entire roster, but I began to circle his daily meal and it frustrated him to his core… That some insect, some gnat was going to try to fuck up his parade course of victories.

He was obsessed with cementing his future legendary status… And he lacked… focus.

I picked up a 24/7 briefcase. The game’s equivalent of a desert eagle. And I came up behind Slater. And I blew him to Hell.

I took the belt. He got it back in a rematch.

A child that wasn’t paying attention to the details might take the wrong lesson here, Thad. He might believe that I needed a briefcase to win and that Slater proved it was a fluke when he took it back.

But, I wasn’t done yet. I wouldn’t be done until I’d evened the score…

2 months later, THE Tristan Slater and I faced off. Both aiming for a mid-card belt, the European Championship. Something Slater said was beneath him. He planned to throw it in the garbage after he won it.

He was still thinking about the future, even then.

Another competitor in the match had started off their promo congratulating him for winning. Because how could Slater lose? Not counting briefcase cash-ins…

His wrestling record was 22-0.

I was somewhat less eager to crown him King… Because I’d just spent the last two months whittling away everything he was. His self-assuredness, his cocky attitude… He had just come back from a break he needed to ‘find his smile again’. And I knew when you pull a piranha out of the river… He doesn’t flop back in and start hunting… His gills are full of air… He suffocates, surrounded by that which gives him life… The predator becomes easy prey.

That night, I beat him legitimately. No briefcase. His first ever loss in his entire career. A man everyone considered untouchable had been fucking sullied... with a loss to Mark Flynn.

22 wins.

1 loss.

The European Title never touched a trash can.

Thought the same can’t be said for Slater’s career…

***

Flynn peers into the records.

Flynn snaps the case shut.

“A fool might say I proved I was better than Slater.”

“But, you and I know better, Thad.”

“A match isn’t about who’s the best of all-time.”

“It’s about who’s best right now. This moment.”

“The thing that allowed me to surpass Slater that night… was full-focus.”

“Slater never found his focus again… and his career was never quite the same…”

Flynn chuckles fondly.

“‘Never Quite the Same’... Isn’t that what your dear old dad said? When you went back and watched my matches with your old man, way back when? I was a legend that lost to your papa and never quite got my mojo back…”

“It’s possible your dear old dad never told you about my other big-game trophy… After he got the better of me...”

Flynn opens another case.

“This is the story of the real man who killed me. And what I did to him when I came back...”

***

THE CASE OF THE ZENITH OF ZEALOTS
PERP: ELI JAMES IV


The year was 2014… I woke up six feet under and felt every inch of the earth I’d been shallowly buried under. I dug like a mole night and day… crawling my way out of terra firma, waking up in a graveyard with a dozen other forgotten names.

Still never learned who the fuck Jack Hoff was...

Some young gun had managed to sneak up behind me and put a slug in my back. I’d gone from being the hunter to the trophy.

The problem was… They forgot to double-check their work and ended up leaving the job half-done.

I hit the streets trying to gather clues. It wasn’t much work, because the kid had spent the last six months telling people he’d done in Flynn after every hello and before every goodbye.

Eli James IV.

He had been preaching his own name… Putting himself on high. When people asked for proof to back up his claims, he’d drop my name. If someone tried to call his bullshit, my name entered the mix.

I’d become a killing curse for a cultist cleric.

My name was a wizard’s spell… as it were.

Just like how you found me, Thad… Theo Pryce was looking in parts of the library they tell you kids not to explore… And he found where you could dig up Mark Flynn…

Theo wanted the Trios belt… but I had my sights set on other goals...

I saw across the ring the man who killed me. And somehow I felt it every time he lobbed my name at some poor schmuck… And I knew the time had come for vengeance…

I attacked Eli, dragged him outside the ring and flayed into him with every spiteful cry, the embodiment of the vengeful anger that those he had laid in his wake still blazed from their graves…

Theo didn’t get his belt that night, but I got what I wanted… The first step into Eli’s mind.

A month later, we were in the ring together. One-on-one.

Again, plans were made for Eli’s coronation. Get this, Thad. His singles record?

22-0.

You can’t make that kinda shit up.

I screamed like a banshee that week. I howled with the great and furious anger of a dead man, laid low by a coward’s ambush…

Eli had little to say in retort. Mild corrections, but he could not deny the truth.

He could not take back his weaponizing of my name...

And at the end of the night…

Eli James’ singles record was 22 wins.

1 loss.

Just another head in the trophy case.

For Mark Fucking Flynn.

***

Flynn closes the case file.

“Eli didn’t lack focus, but he had bit off more than he could chew.”

“He had me beat on an off-week and decided from a lucky break that he could wield my name like a fucking holy weapon of his divine right.”

“And he had earned it. He had my name in his W column.”

“But it’s a two way street, Thad. And when you go calling out someone’s name… Don’t be surprised when they come looking for you.”

“When people go hunting for Flynn, sometimes they get the better of him. Sometimes, they even put him down in the ground. They say a few words, drop a handful of earth and call him a corpse...”

“But I haven’t been dropped into a grave yet that I didn’t climb out of. And when I get back to the surface… I’m very, very dangerous to those who keep my name on their tongues…”

“Like you have, Thad.”

“Of course, you might be confident because you grew up getting tucked into bed with stories of your dad getting the better of Old Man Flynn. Visions on the inside of your sleepy little eyelids of your father’s triumphant victory over the monster that lives in the woods...”

“Maybe you really still believe I was never the same after your papa pulled out the win…”

Flynn reaches behind him and claws in the last file...

“Let me… re-educate you…”

***

THE CASE OF THE FOCUSED FATHER
PERP: SEBASTIAN DUKE ...MARK FLYNN


Yep.

I was at the top of the world. The US Title around my waist. My second reign as the XWF World Champion… They’d thrown away the World Heavyweight Belt due to Slater’s ALLEGED substance issues.

The guy was in the middle of a messy divorce. He wrestled his last match the same week he was testifying for custody of his son.

So, the US Title was the de facto king’s crown. And I wore it with pride.

I had been promoting an upcoming showdown with Angelus, my foil in the XWF at the time…

I’d been itching from a distance to tangle with my next big case… Mister Mystery, the zombified corpse everyone was terrified of coming anywhere near…

I was salivating about the upcoming Gauntlet City where I would vy to become the King of the XWF…

I was a kid in a candy shop.

I’d made the same mistake Slater had before me… I started planning my conquest of the entire globe and lost track of what was happening behind my back.

I made the ultimate mistake.

I.

Lost.

Focus.

The week your dad and I met… I’d spent more words tangling with Johnny Madison… Mister Mystery… Unknown Soldier… Angelus.. By the time I got to your dad, he had me right where he wanted me. In the sights of his gun. Dead to rights.

No cover to hide behind.

Spent bullets in my chambers and empty pockets…

Which is probably where I learned to save the trash talk for just… the right… time.

Sebastian knew how to ration his artillery.

He didn’t fire until he saw the whites of my eyes...

He had won a war of attrition. A brilliant victory play.

Duke’s victory that night would educate me of the folly of my ways. And introduce me to a new… method.

That was the night… The Optimal Path first appeared in front of me.

It took time, fermenting in my morphine-addled mind… But, once the idea took root, my path became clear.

The path that would lead to my return to the top of the XWF…

...

I refuse to discount your dad. Credit where credit is due. And full credit is due to ol’ Sebastian.

Papa Duke is one of the greatest XWF wrestlers of all-time.

One of.

Wink.

But, his big win? His US Title win? Something that will never be repeated.

He didn’t get lucky. He earned the kill that cold March night. But we both know how he picked up his win over Overrated Mark Flynn...

He was focused.

I was not.

A mistake I will NEVER make again.

***
Flynn snaps the last case file shut.

“Now, Thad. Thank you for your patience. I’m sure you’re asking, like most of you young people around here do… What the fuck does any of this have to do with me? Thaddeus Duke! The Greatest XWF Superstar to Ever Wrestle!”

“Not just a future XWF Hall of Famer! But the OCW Savage Champion, a company whose Hall of Fame I'm also campaigning for a spot in!”

“And I have an upcoming feud to blow off against Corey Smith that I’m planning down the line! As well as a feud with Dolly Waters! My calendar is getting booked for six months in advance now!”

“And then, you’ve got my fucking TV miniseries appearance on THE SPLAT NETWORK!”

[Image: 7IXwgn7.jpg]

“MY UPCOMING RECURRING ROLE ON MORNING STAR PRODUCTIONS' "THE AFTERLIFE"!”

[Image: elaEiTf.png]

"MY CONSTANT FUCKING SOCIAL MEDIA FEUDS!”

[Image: MMTy4bW.png]

“I’M A BRAND, FLYNN! I’M PEPSI, I’M AMAZON! CATCH MY FUCKING KIDS’ NEW REALITY TV MINI-SERIES ON INSTAGRAM LIVE! CHECK OUT THE CELLS ON THE RIM OF MY FRESHLY BLEACHED ANUS SPLIT VIA MITOSIS ON MY FUCKING MICROSCOPE’S TIKTOK ACCOUNT!”

“WHAT'S THAT?!? OF COURSE, I’M FOCUSED ON YOU FLYNN! WHAT ON EARTH WOULD MAKE YOU THINK OTHERWISE?!?!?!”

Flynn pitches his glass against the back wall of the bar like a fastball. The glass clips the top of a bottle of liquor… and its contents flow and cascade down to the floor…

NK sighs and reaches under the bar and retrieves a mop… He starts cleaning the mess.

Flynn spins back and looks at the camera with fire in his eyes.

”I won’t say you’re not a threat, Thad. Because you are.”

“I’ve taken on the best this company’s ever had walking down its halls in its 22 year history.”

“And I’m excited for this, Thad. This is thrilling for me.”

“I’m a big game hunter, Thad. And beating you will feel like bringing home a goddamn dragon’s head to mount on my wall.”

“But I’m as serious as cancer.”

Flynn winks.

“When I say.”

“You.”

“Lack.”

“Focus.”

“I won’t say you’re not focused at all. And honestly, your most recent matches? Reggie Estrada and Ciela Luiz?”

“You could have beaten them while planning out a Thanksgiving dinner for your whole royal family..”

“Me? I’ll require a little more of your concentration.”

Flynn smiles.

“I know, Thad, I know… You were harping on me picking on you for your lack of focus in your first promo of the match… Pointing out you’d been calling me out for 2 months, that you’ve been begging like a kid on Christmas Eve to open your present… to get in the ring with me… Isn’t that focus enough?”

Flynn shakes his head, without breaking eye contact with the camera.

“No.”

“It’s fucking not.”

“Because, it’s not enough to go into a match with Mark Flynn, regular focused.”

“It requires FULL FOCUS.”

“I don’t have a TV Show appearance the night after Relentless, Thad. My last sitcom was seven years ago and until Gator starts trying to pin me again or Paramount Plus calls, there’s no reboot in the works.”

“I haven’t been in a commercial since I dropped the X-Treme Title.”

“I don’t have an acting agent, a book deal, or a Twitch schedule. Because I’m not a FUCKING part-timer.”

“I have no idea what my wrestling calendar looks like the night after Relentless.”

“I don’t even have a fucking flight booked out of Chicago.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the last event in my fucking life is that Ironman match and I’ll be taking every breath in my body, every red blood cell in my veins, every fucking microjoule of energy running down my spinal column and using it to CRUSH you… Thaddeus Duke.”

“THAT’S WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY I AM FULLY FOCUSED.”

“...”

“Can you say the same, Thad?”

“Are you treating this match like it’s your fucking masterpiece? The culmination of everything you’ve ever bled, ever sweat, ever vomited for the love of this sport?”

“Or somewhere, deep down… Are you thinking about what’s coming up next? Your next match? Your next photo op? Your next breakfast time Instagram post? The next fed you’ll show up in? Your next late night appearance on JIMMY FUCKING FALLON?”

“When you were watching game tape to study up for this match… Were you reaching for your phone to live-tweet like you do when you watch OCW, subtweeting all your new pals into being humiliated?”

“Are you thinking about your kids? Are you thinking about their happiness?”

“Are you thinking about your people? Are you thinking about their survival?”

“Cuz let me tell you something, Thad. If you’ve let your mind drift one half of a split-fucking-second. If you take your eye off the ball in the ring, for a fraction of a modicum of an INSTANT…”

Flynn snaps his fingers.

“You’re already dead.”

“I’ve got a wide arsenal of tricks and treats, Thad.”

“But my deadliest weapon will always be…”

“FULL.”

“FOCUS.”

“And going into Relentless? I have it.”

“And you don’t.”

Flynn leans back and takes a deep breath, satisfied. He is completely in the moment.

“Thad. Kid. Young blood.”

Flynn beckons and the camera tightens in his face.

“You’re deserving of this fate.”

“You’ve done everything in your power to demand this match. You cried, whined and begged for a man gone seven long years to return for some dream match you imagined from dreams of your father’s days…”

“And you’re about to lose in glorious fashion on the biggest stage possible.”

Flynn cackles.

“It’s true what they say. Be careful what you wish for.”

Flynn cracks his neck.

“And I can’t wait to do this, Thad. I can’t wait to be the fitting, LOGICAL CONCLUSION to your tyrannical dominant reign over Warfare.”

“I can’t wait until your legacy as Hart champion is cast permanently into the past, that belt a relic of a time when you were ‘the best’ and ‘at your peak’… and your accomplishments become a distant memory… while I carry the SuperContinental belt as my first trophy to a new era… of Mark FUCKING Flynn. Seven years later and STILL Taking down “the best” at ‘their peak’.”

“Like you said, Thad. You’re only 22.”

“You’ve had 22 years without a real challenge. 22 years of stomping around the jungle like a prideful gazelle, thinking you’re the king of the Serengeti… 22 years of chewing through chaff and dry grass like Reggie Estrada and Ciela Luiz...”

“Unaware that your preening and prancing has caught the attention of a leopard, returning to his old hunting grounds… salivating at the though of sinking his teeth into your jugular vein and dining on your fucking carcass as you choke on your own blood.”

Flynn smiles deviously.

“You’ve had 22 years of thinking you were the best in the world. The best that this business had to offer, Thad.”

“But after Relentless? As we look upon the dawn of a new year in the XWF?”

“That figure is going to be…”

“22.”

Flynn sticks an index finger in the air.

“And 1.”

“The start of year one of knowing better. Knowing that the best man to ever run these ropes… is named Mark.”

“FUCKING.”

“Flynn.”

Flynn cackles heartily. NK flips a switch behind the bar and the lights go out.]]> <![CDATA[I’m right here where you left me experimenting]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41962 Sat, 25 Sep 2021 20:19:00 -0700 Marf]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41962
And one last time into the dreamworld we go…


The board room was not much bigger than my own office yet a dozen of us were crammed in there. Chief Pryce had called a meeting no sooner did our shifts start. Six vicious killings in eight nights. Tonight was poised to be seven in nine. The timing between murders had increased after each one and it was highly likely I’d be at another murder scene within the first hour of my shift. Great way to start the evening. My partner Damien grumbled something inaudible to me and I quietly nodded in return. Beside him sat officers Nickles, Granger and Wish.

At the end of the row in the last seat was Inspector Main and he definitely had his less than impressed face on for all to see. The row in front of us has Captain Dolly, Lieutenants Lane and Page as well as Superintendent Duke and Staff Sergeant Smith. Deputy Chief Graves stood unusually nervously beside Chief Pryce as the presentation was wrapping up. The six grisly murders all took place within a surprisingly small distance from one another. All of us were being sent out to zones around the area to carefully search.

Does everyone understand their assignments?

A mixed batch of unenthusiastic grunts fills the room before Deputy Chief Graves steps forward and clears his throat.

This is the most important night yet people. We’ve got the sick fuck narrowed down let’s go catch us a murderer!

Chief Pryce slowly looks over at him with an annoyed expression before turning back to all of us and then exiting the room. Deputy Chief Graves shuffles his feet and nearly trips before following after Chief Pryce. Officer Wish turns to Damien and myself while the rest of the room slowly files out to the hall. The air is filled with the stench of stale cigarettes and anxiety. Based on the zones it looks like Wish is coming with us. Nothing wrong with some extra back up.

Normally I’d call shotgun but I don’t mind the back seat for this stakeout.

Have you been on any stakeouts prior to this?

You think your boy is just some pencil pusher? Shiiiit, I was doing stakeouts before your balls dropped!

Tommy I’m fucking older than you…

You two done yet? Shut the fuck up and let’s go!

About an hour later…


Sitting in the passenger seat of the Buick, I stare out at the old park. With the sun retired for the day, the park is mostly just darkness and giant shadows. Damien parked under the only working streetlight it seemed. Everything around us was just deafening blackness. Damien was impatiently tapping his finger on the steering wheel while Wish was fiddling with the shoelaces of his boot. I wasn’t sure if we would actually see anything but my gut feeling was telling me it wasn’t going to be a quiet evening.

I could feel the hairs on my arms tingling like some kind of strange electricity was coursing through my body. Poking my head out the window I peer up at the full, harvest moon. Heavy clouds keep moving in and blocking out the giant sky flashlight. I shift uncomfortably in my seat before dropping my gaze from the sky and to the road in front of the car. A quick flash of something catches my eye. It’s gone as fast as I see it. Somewhere into that darkened park is the direction I thought I saw it go.

Anyone else catch that?

Damien stops the annoying tapping of his fingers and looks over at me and then to the road. Officer Wish sits up and looks around.

Catch what?

Don’t be messing around wit us now…

Shut up, both of you. I saw movement up ahead and it went into the park.

I consider stepping out of the car with or without them. With the exception of a few straggling crickets, there’s hardly a sound coming from the dark park. And of course, that’s when an ear piercing scream shatters the eerie calmness. All three of us bolt upright as though a block of ice just touched the small of our backs.

The fuck was that!?

That was a human scream…

That came from the damn park!

On cue all three of us exit the Buick with quickened heart beats. Wish looks over to me and motions with his head for us to head into the park. I glance over to Damien on the other side of the car and he already had a rough grimace on his face.

You two take the left side of the park. I’ll take the right side and we’ll work towards each other in the middle.

Get your gun unholstered we can’t waste a second.

I don’t really like this plan…

I don’t really care, let’s go!

Before another word can be spoken, Damien treads off to the right of the park, passing through the shadowy playground. I begin making my way to the left corner of the park towards some shrubbery. Wish follows behind me, looking all around, head on a swivel. He clearly does not want to be here and I definitely can’t blame the man. The pit of my stomach feels like it is rotting with acid while I navigate my way through this ominous night at the park.

Splittin’ up was stupid, we should head towards Damien.

It isn’t ideal but we need to check the back of the park first.

No sooner do I say it, an obnoxious rustling can be heard several yards ahead of us. Wish looks at me with a hint of dread but we push forward to check it out. We both draw our pistols, the time for caution was long past.

If somebody is back there identify yourself immediately!

I stop a few feet in front of the bushes while officer Wish begins to move behind them to see where the sounds came from. He squints into the darkness and then looks back at me and shrugs.

Maybe it was a cat?

The bushes suddenly rustle again and I aim my gun while Wish stumbles over an exposed root and trips. The rustling moves through the bushes straight towards where Wish has fallen.

Get the fuck outta there, Tommy!

The rustling gets closer and louder as Wish scrambled to get back to his feet. Finally a ferocious beast emerges from the bushes as we both jump back. Except that it is less beast and more raccoon. I turn and watch the night scavenger run off into the darkness while lowering my gun. My knuckles are white so I loosen my grip and shake my head.

Close call, eh Tommy?

…Tommy?

There is a disgusting snap from behind me and I flinch at it. Slowly I turn around to face officer Wish but I already know it is far too late. As I turn I see Officer Wish standing at a strange angle. Even in the darkness I can see the black, oily blood spilt all over his checkered shirt. His head is craned drastically to the left and a massive wolf looking head is biting into the side of his throat. That wolf head is attached to a huge, eight foot tall beast of a creature. Covered in short, bristly blue hair, the thing stands on it’s beefy hind legs.

I blink several times in disbelief. My mind struggling to comprehend what I am staring at. The monster rips it’s head and jaws away from Wish’s neck to look up at me, taking a large chunk of flesh with it. It chews the flesh and swallows before glaring directly at me. Without feeling myself move, I realize I’ve raised my pistol back up at the creature. I fire two shots in a daze and the beast howls out while falling backwards with Wish’s body into the bushes. I stand still for a moment, light smoke rising from my gun.

Tommy…are you okay?

I have no idea why I ask that, I know damn well he’s not okay. That beast made him dinner and I might very well be dessert if I’m not careful. I slowly step over to the bushes where I see officer Wish’s lifeless body first. There’s movement directly behind where he lies and I shine my flashlight. I stand in shock as the light illuminates the woman with the blue hair. She is quickly pulling on her ripped clothing, covering up as best she can while I stare in awe.

Marf!? Tommy!? The fuck is going on over here where are you guys??

I hear my partner Damien rushing over but I don’t take my eyes off the woman with the blue hair. She’s trying to hide but I can see the blood all over her hands and face. Damien runs up and stops just behind me, also in shock.

The fuck is this?

I fucking told you there was a girl!

Damien seemingly ignores me and steps towards the blue haired girl.

The fuck were you thinking? This is the sloppiest mess yet!

I cock my head at Damien, not quite understanding what he is saying. But he’s staring directly at the woman in blue who looks down sheepishly.

The fuck you mean…?

Damien turns around to face me now as I take a step towards them both. I hear the shots before I see the gun in his left hand. It’s strange that I don’t feel anything despite him plugging me four times. I don’t feel anything at all as I drop to my knees. My eyes water and then go wide as I finally begin to understand.

Looks like you got a little too close, kid. Couldn’t let ya blow our cover. Nothing personal…

My body trembles but all I can think about is how awful that coppery, oily taste is coming up the back of my throat. The blood pours out of the four separate holes in my stomach and chest while I slump to the ground. I feel the life running out of me as I watch the two of them in front of me. They both transform into giant, beastly werewolves and that is the last thing I ever see…

~Fin~


It's been such a long time,
I think I should be goin', yeah.
And time doesn't wait for me,
It keeps on rollin'.

Sail on, on a distant highway, yeah.
I've got to keep on chasin' a dream,
I've gotta be on my way.
Wish there was something I could say.

I’m taking my time, I'm just movin' on.
You'll forget about me after I've been gone.
And I take what I find, I don't want no more.
It's just outside of your front door.


In the hours leading up to Relentless…


And here sits our glorious hero Marf, slowly moving back and forth in a rocking chair he likely did not purchase. He looks dashing as always.

Well I hope you’re fuckin’ happy, Tales, you dun gone goofed. Just when I thought you’d run off again due to your radio silence, wham! You blunder through a sloppy pile of insults and strange thoughts that should have stayed inside you’re stupid little perra head. And somehow all that bullshit actually managed to push my needle from annoyed to flat out pissed off. Is this your big plan? Get me to the point where I only see red once you’re in front of me come Sunday night, awesome idea!

Marf stops rocking and plants his feet before giving a cheesy thumbs up.

So tell me, amiga, what level do you intend on getting to in order to actually stand a chance against me? Don’t level up too fast now or you’ll miss the magic flute in level three! You speak about doing what it takes to win the match but do you even know what that entails? If you hit your finisher and I kick out, do you really have the cojones to stomp my head into the mat until I stop getting up? Until my face is so covered in blood it leaves a stamp on the mat every time you stomp? I’ll give you a moment to flip through your notes filled with generic bullshit for an answer.

Marf lifts his arm and looks at the nonexistent wrist watch then back up.

Well actually, turns out we don’t exactly have a whole lot of time to wait for that. Guess you better just bring your intangibles and hope for the best. What are your intangibles again? Talking about a bunch of boring shit you did around the world? Like I give a fuck. What you did in OCW and wherever the fuck else helps you in zero ways for your match with me. With all that gloating and patting yourself on the back your head has really grown. It’s too bad there’s only a pea-sized brain in there.

I mean come on, you’re trying to tell me I’ve achieved nothing here in XWF? That getting to this number one contenders match took me longer? Tell me again, which one of us ran away like a little bitch years ago? Which one of us is on our second chance? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not fucking me! Last I checked I haven’t even been here for a full year and here I am on Relentless night three, fighting for a chance to earn a title shot. Icing on the cake is I get to ruin your precious redemption story in the process.

While I’m at it I’m also going to ruin that cum glazed mouth of yours too. Speaking so negatively about me and you didn’t even do your fucking research. I won the television title. I won the heavy metal weight title five fucking times before it was gone. I’m a multi-time Freestyle champion and currently still hold that title. So how many more titles have you held in XWF than I have Tales? Oh would you look at that, absolutely fucking none! And you want to talk shit about how I’ve achieved nothing? Open your fucking eyes you worthless cunt I’ve done more in under a year than you’ve ever accomplished here in half a fucking decade.

At this point Marf gets up and then smashes the poor rocking chair to pieces. Hopefully he didn’t steal it so he can take his receipt back for a refund.

Christ, you’ve done it all in your short return? A thousand times wrong tonto del culo! You haven’t done a god damn thing other than win a handful of matches against people who nobody can remember their names already. Whoopity fuckin’ do. You’re foolish enough to think over a decade of experience is going to impress a guy with nearly twice as much experience himself. Your ideas are as fucking dumb as the words stumbling their way out of your cock holster. Just keep reaching into that well of generic banter. I’ll do my best to resist the urge to shove you in.

Good thing your body can endure a lot of pain, eh Tales? It damn well better, I intend on inflicting tons of physical harm upon you. I am downright curious to see just how much endurance you truly have. You may have your speed advantage and actually believe it’s going to get you somewhere. But speed will only get you so far. Sooner or later I’ll have hurt you too much for you to run any longer. And that’s when I’ll coil around you like a massive boa constrictor. How much of a lack of oxygen can you endure once I have you in my grasp?

Marf leans forward and wraps his beefy arms around himself in a strange demonstration. In an alternate universe he’s likely an intimidating high school teacher.

Speed will only remain your ally for so long. When that’s all you rely on, it eventually will let you down. Just like Talia is going to let down her twenty fans at Relentless. When her speedy ride on redemption road hits a giant, solid wall and bursts into flames. I mean what else do you really bring to the table here? Stupidity masked as courageous behaviour? No I think it’s just flat out stupidity. Suggesting I’m going to be afraid of you? Like, you seriously believe in your puta heart that will happen?

Marf stops and then bursts into laughter at the idea. He looks to continue but the holds up a hand and chuckles some more. Finally he collects himself and goes on.

Have you listened to a fucking thing I’ve said over the last several days? Have you ever seen a single one of my matches? Do you even fucking realize who you are booked against at Relentless!? I fucking love violence. If you get back up from that mat when I put you down, it isn’t fear I will be filling up with. It will be joy! Every time you get up I am granted the chance to beat on you further. Toss you around some more. Empty out more of that oily Spanish blood. Surprise, I’m fucking stoked for that, please get up!

The grave mistake that was made was not by me I’m afraid. It was from you Tales, when you neglected to properly prepare for this match. You’ve done some training but look at your dumbass, you haven’t a fucking clue what you’re about to walk into. You can barely muster up a verbal assault against me, how can you possibly keep me down long enough for a pinfall inside the ring? Meanwhile I’ll be playing my own fun game inspired by you actually, Tales! What stops first, my assault or your heart?

I can promise you Tales, all the pent up aggression flowing through my veins means I have a helluva lot of assault to get out. Appreciate you offering up your body for that, big props, oh la lay or whatever the fuck. I assure you, there will be no underestimating on my side. Just like there will be no miracles for the underdog. And most importantly, there will be no fucking redemption for you Tales. All that lies ahead for you is severe pain, gallons of your own blood and my assault. And you know what? It’s going to be, hmm, what’s the word?

And of course Marf feigns the old lightbulb going off shtick.

Relentless…

Marf grins like the manic he is and spreads his arms out wide as we fade out. ]]>
And one last time into the dreamworld we go…


The board room was not much bigger than my own office yet a dozen of us were crammed in there. Chief Pryce had called a meeting no sooner did our shifts start. Six vicious killings in eight nights. Tonight was poised to be seven in nine. The timing between murders had increased after each one and it was highly likely I’d be at another murder scene within the first hour of my shift. Great way to start the evening. My partner Damien grumbled something inaudible to me and I quietly nodded in return. Beside him sat officers Nickles, Granger and Wish.

At the end of the row in the last seat was Inspector Main and he definitely had his less than impressed face on for all to see. The row in front of us has Captain Dolly, Lieutenants Lane and Page as well as Superintendent Duke and Staff Sergeant Smith. Deputy Chief Graves stood unusually nervously beside Chief Pryce as the presentation was wrapping up. The six grisly murders all took place within a surprisingly small distance from one another. All of us were being sent out to zones around the area to carefully search.

Does everyone understand their assignments?

A mixed batch of unenthusiastic grunts fills the room before Deputy Chief Graves steps forward and clears his throat.

This is the most important night yet people. We’ve got the sick fuck narrowed down let’s go catch us a murderer!

Chief Pryce slowly looks over at him with an annoyed expression before turning back to all of us and then exiting the room. Deputy Chief Graves shuffles his feet and nearly trips before following after Chief Pryce. Officer Wish turns to Damien and myself while the rest of the room slowly files out to the hall. The air is filled with the stench of stale cigarettes and anxiety. Based on the zones it looks like Wish is coming with us. Nothing wrong with some extra back up.

Normally I’d call shotgun but I don’t mind the back seat for this stakeout.

Have you been on any stakeouts prior to this?

You think your boy is just some pencil pusher? Shiiiit, I was doing stakeouts before your balls dropped!

Tommy I’m fucking older than you…

You two done yet? Shut the fuck up and let’s go!

About an hour later…


Sitting in the passenger seat of the Buick, I stare out at the old park. With the sun retired for the day, the park is mostly just darkness and giant shadows. Damien parked under the only working streetlight it seemed. Everything around us was just deafening blackness. Damien was impatiently tapping his finger on the steering wheel while Wish was fiddling with the shoelaces of his boot. I wasn’t sure if we would actually see anything but my gut feeling was telling me it wasn’t going to be a quiet evening.

I could feel the hairs on my arms tingling like some kind of strange electricity was coursing through my body. Poking my head out the window I peer up at the full, harvest moon. Heavy clouds keep moving in and blocking out the giant sky flashlight. I shift uncomfortably in my seat before dropping my gaze from the sky and to the road in front of the car. A quick flash of something catches my eye. It’s gone as fast as I see it. Somewhere into that darkened park is the direction I thought I saw it go.

Anyone else catch that?

Damien stops the annoying tapping of his fingers and looks over at me and then to the road. Officer Wish sits up and looks around.

Catch what?

Don’t be messing around wit us now…

Shut up, both of you. I saw movement up ahead and it went into the park.

I consider stepping out of the car with or without them. With the exception of a few straggling crickets, there’s hardly a sound coming from the dark park. And of course, that’s when an ear piercing scream shatters the eerie calmness. All three of us bolt upright as though a block of ice just touched the small of our backs.

The fuck was that!?

That was a human scream…

That came from the damn park!

On cue all three of us exit the Buick with quickened heart beats. Wish looks over to me and motions with his head for us to head into the park. I glance over to Damien on the other side of the car and he already had a rough grimace on his face.

You two take the left side of the park. I’ll take the right side and we’ll work towards each other in the middle.

Get your gun unholstered we can’t waste a second.

I don’t really like this plan…

I don’t really care, let’s go!

Before another word can be spoken, Damien treads off to the right of the park, passing through the shadowy playground. I begin making my way to the left corner of the park towards some shrubbery. Wish follows behind me, looking all around, head on a swivel. He clearly does not want to be here and I definitely can’t blame the man. The pit of my stomach feels like it is rotting with acid while I navigate my way through this ominous night at the park.

Splittin’ up was stupid, we should head towards Damien.

It isn’t ideal but we need to check the back of the park first.

No sooner do I say it, an obnoxious rustling can be heard several yards ahead of us. Wish looks at me with a hint of dread but we push forward to check it out. We both draw our pistols, the time for caution was long past.

If somebody is back there identify yourself immediately!

I stop a few feet in front of the bushes while officer Wish begins to move behind them to see where the sounds came from. He squints into the darkness and then looks back at me and shrugs.

Maybe it was a cat?

The bushes suddenly rustle again and I aim my gun while Wish stumbles over an exposed root and trips. The rustling moves through the bushes straight towards where Wish has fallen.

Get the fuck outta there, Tommy!

The rustling gets closer and louder as Wish scrambled to get back to his feet. Finally a ferocious beast emerges from the bushes as we both jump back. Except that it is less beast and more raccoon. I turn and watch the night scavenger run off into the darkness while lowering my gun. My knuckles are white so I loosen my grip and shake my head.

Close call, eh Tommy?

…Tommy?

There is a disgusting snap from behind me and I flinch at it. Slowly I turn around to face officer Wish but I already know it is far too late. As I turn I see Officer Wish standing at a strange angle. Even in the darkness I can see the black, oily blood spilt all over his checkered shirt. His head is craned drastically to the left and a massive wolf looking head is biting into the side of his throat. That wolf head is attached to a huge, eight foot tall beast of a creature. Covered in short, bristly blue hair, the thing stands on it’s beefy hind legs.

I blink several times in disbelief. My mind struggling to comprehend what I am staring at. The monster rips it’s head and jaws away from Wish’s neck to look up at me, taking a large chunk of flesh with it. It chews the flesh and swallows before glaring directly at me. Without feeling myself move, I realize I’ve raised my pistol back up at the creature. I fire two shots in a daze and the beast howls out while falling backwards with Wish’s body into the bushes. I stand still for a moment, light smoke rising from my gun.

Tommy…are you okay?

I have no idea why I ask that, I know damn well he’s not okay. That beast made him dinner and I might very well be dessert if I’m not careful. I slowly step over to the bushes where I see officer Wish’s lifeless body first. There’s movement directly behind where he lies and I shine my flashlight. I stand in shock as the light illuminates the woman with the blue hair. She is quickly pulling on her ripped clothing, covering up as best she can while I stare in awe.

Marf!? Tommy!? The fuck is going on over here where are you guys??

I hear my partner Damien rushing over but I don’t take my eyes off the woman with the blue hair. She’s trying to hide but I can see the blood all over her hands and face. Damien runs up and stops just behind me, also in shock.

The fuck is this?

I fucking told you there was a girl!

Damien seemingly ignores me and steps towards the blue haired girl.

The fuck were you thinking? This is the sloppiest mess yet!

I cock my head at Damien, not quite understanding what he is saying. But he’s staring directly at the woman in blue who looks down sheepishly.

The fuck you mean…?

Damien turns around to face me now as I take a step towards them both. I hear the shots before I see the gun in his left hand. It’s strange that I don’t feel anything despite him plugging me four times. I don’t feel anything at all as I drop to my knees. My eyes water and then go wide as I finally begin to understand.

Looks like you got a little too close, kid. Couldn’t let ya blow our cover. Nothing personal…

My body trembles but all I can think about is how awful that coppery, oily taste is coming up the back of my throat. The blood pours out of the four separate holes in my stomach and chest while I slump to the ground. I feel the life running out of me as I watch the two of them in front of me. They both transform into giant, beastly werewolves and that is the last thing I ever see…

~Fin~


It's been such a long time,
I think I should be goin', yeah.
And time doesn't wait for me,
It keeps on rollin'.

Sail on, on a distant highway, yeah.
I've got to keep on chasin' a dream,
I've gotta be on my way.
Wish there was something I could say.

I’m taking my time, I'm just movin' on.
You'll forget about me after I've been gone.
And I take what I find, I don't want no more.
It's just outside of your front door.


In the hours leading up to Relentless…


And here sits our glorious hero Marf, slowly moving back and forth in a rocking chair he likely did not purchase. He looks dashing as always.

Well I hope you’re fuckin’ happy, Tales, you dun gone goofed. Just when I thought you’d run off again due to your radio silence, wham! You blunder through a sloppy pile of insults and strange thoughts that should have stayed inside you’re stupid little perra head. And somehow all that bullshit actually managed to push my needle from annoyed to flat out pissed off. Is this your big plan? Get me to the point where I only see red once you’re in front of me come Sunday night, awesome idea!

Marf stops rocking and plants his feet before giving a cheesy thumbs up.

So tell me, amiga, what level do you intend on getting to in order to actually stand a chance against me? Don’t level up too fast now or you’ll miss the magic flute in level three! You speak about doing what it takes to win the match but do you even know what that entails? If you hit your finisher and I kick out, do you really have the cojones to stomp my head into the mat until I stop getting up? Until my face is so covered in blood it leaves a stamp on the mat every time you stomp? I’ll give you a moment to flip through your notes filled with generic bullshit for an answer.

Marf lifts his arm and looks at the nonexistent wrist watch then back up.

Well actually, turns out we don’t exactly have a whole lot of time to wait for that. Guess you better just bring your intangibles and hope for the best. What are your intangibles again? Talking about a bunch of boring shit you did around the world? Like I give a fuck. What you did in OCW and wherever the fuck else helps you in zero ways for your match with me. With all that gloating and patting yourself on the back your head has really grown. It’s too bad there’s only a pea-sized brain in there.

I mean come on, you’re trying to tell me I’ve achieved nothing here in XWF? That getting to this number one contenders match took me longer? Tell me again, which one of us ran away like a little bitch years ago? Which one of us is on our second chance? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not fucking me! Last I checked I haven’t even been here for a full year and here I am on Relentless night three, fighting for a chance to earn a title shot. Icing on the cake is I get to ruin your precious redemption story in the process.

While I’m at it I’m also going to ruin that cum glazed mouth of yours too. Speaking so negatively about me and you didn’t even do your fucking research. I won the television title. I won the heavy metal weight title five fucking times before it was gone. I’m a multi-time Freestyle champion and currently still hold that title. So how many more titles have you held in XWF than I have Tales? Oh would you look at that, absolutely fucking none! And you want to talk shit about how I’ve achieved nothing? Open your fucking eyes you worthless cunt I’ve done more in under a year than you’ve ever accomplished here in half a fucking decade.

At this point Marf gets up and then smashes the poor rocking chair to pieces. Hopefully he didn’t steal it so he can take his receipt back for a refund.

Christ, you’ve done it all in your short return? A thousand times wrong tonto del culo! You haven’t done a god damn thing other than win a handful of matches against people who nobody can remember their names already. Whoopity fuckin’ do. You’re foolish enough to think over a decade of experience is going to impress a guy with nearly twice as much experience himself. Your ideas are as fucking dumb as the words stumbling their way out of your cock holster. Just keep reaching into that well of generic banter. I’ll do my best to resist the urge to shove you in.

Good thing your body can endure a lot of pain, eh Tales? It damn well better, I intend on inflicting tons of physical harm upon you. I am downright curious to see just how much endurance you truly have. You may have your speed advantage and actually believe it’s going to get you somewhere. But speed will only get you so far. Sooner or later I’ll have hurt you too much for you to run any longer. And that’s when I’ll coil around you like a massive boa constrictor. How much of a lack of oxygen can you endure once I have you in my grasp?

Marf leans forward and wraps his beefy arms around himself in a strange demonstration. In an alternate universe he’s likely an intimidating high school teacher.

Speed will only remain your ally for so long. When that’s all you rely on, it eventually will let you down. Just like Talia is going to let down her twenty fans at Relentless. When her speedy ride on redemption road hits a giant, solid wall and bursts into flames. I mean what else do you really bring to the table here? Stupidity masked as courageous behaviour? No I think it’s just flat out stupidity. Suggesting I’m going to be afraid of you? Like, you seriously believe in your puta heart that will happen?

Marf stops and then bursts into laughter at the idea. He looks to continue but the holds up a hand and chuckles some more. Finally he collects himself and goes on.

Have you listened to a fucking thing I’ve said over the last several days? Have you ever seen a single one of my matches? Do you even fucking realize who you are booked against at Relentless!? I fucking love violence. If you get back up from that mat when I put you down, it isn’t fear I will be filling up with. It will be joy! Every time you get up I am granted the chance to beat on you further. Toss you around some more. Empty out more of that oily Spanish blood. Surprise, I’m fucking stoked for that, please get up!

The grave mistake that was made was not by me I’m afraid. It was from you Tales, when you neglected to properly prepare for this match. You’ve done some training but look at your dumbass, you haven’t a fucking clue what you’re about to walk into. You can barely muster up a verbal assault against me, how can you possibly keep me down long enough for a pinfall inside the ring? Meanwhile I’ll be playing my own fun game inspired by you actually, Tales! What stops first, my assault or your heart?

I can promise you Tales, all the pent up aggression flowing through my veins means I have a helluva lot of assault to get out. Appreciate you offering up your body for that, big props, oh la lay or whatever the fuck. I assure you, there will be no underestimating on my side. Just like there will be no miracles for the underdog. And most importantly, there will be no fucking redemption for you Tales. All that lies ahead for you is severe pain, gallons of your own blood and my assault. And you know what? It’s going to be, hmm, what’s the word?

And of course Marf feigns the old lightbulb going off shtick.

Relentless…

Marf grins like the manic he is and spreads his arms out wide as we fade out. ]]> <![CDATA[Once Lost, Now Found...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41958 Sat, 25 Sep 2021 11:05:32 -0700 Robert "The Omega" Main]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41958







[Image: etLFBci.jpg]


” Have you heard what Page has been saying all over Twitter, Robert? Not to mention that revolutionary interview he’s done what, thousand times now? If the guy had an original thought I’d be impressed. ”



Robert took a deep breath clenching his coffee cup, the aroma of the coffee is part of the tempo of the day, another anchor in Robert’s routine that soothes his soul giving a sense of regularity and consistency. The coffee cup was a rustic clay color, the sort of look that spoke of a tranquil soulfulness. It was heaven on Earth to touch. He placed his father’s favorite coffee cup to his cherry red lips and took a pintsized sip before replying to Drew.



” I have… It’s a Chris Page specialty, he’s shown the world a million times just how unoriginal he truly is. It’s the same dull, un-inspiring routine we’ve all seen for over two years now. He’s letting everyone know how boundless he believes he is, and then tells the same played out vanilla story he’s been telling since 2019. All the dude’s promos are carbon copies, cookie-cutter garbage, and he has the balls to talk about cliché? Watching his mind-numbing, stereotypical stories with Jessica OR Steve in an interview has become drab, to say the least…”



” Well, don’t you think that is pretty low to go after someone’s father who just passed away? Even for a complete dirtbag, like Page, that’s low…”



” It shouldn’t surprise you one bit, Page believes tugging at my emotions will give him a slight advantage, lord knows he needs it…”



Robert lifts the mug once more taking a much larger drink this time leering at Drew…



[Image: FZjZCN0.jpg]



” The only thing that he is accomplishing, is making himself look like an even bigger ass hole, the guy is trying to play emotional warfare with me. Apparently, he didn’t learn a damn thing when we tagged… To me, it wreaks of desperation… Page masquerades with a fake smile pretending that he is a man-made of stone when in reality he just needs a savior from all of this, someone to put him down for good and at Relentless I’m going to cash it all in to do just that… ”



Robert points at his head a few times…



” Steel trap… I’m playing three-dimensional chess, while this guy is out there playing checkers, let him say whatever he wants, it does not affect me or this match…”



” But Robert, he kind of has a point here, you are not in a great place mentally… You’re not the same Robert Main from when you were Universal Champion…”



Robert’s brow abruptly raises as he sits mug down on the table heading towards the fireplace…



[Image: giphy.gif?cid=ecf05e4794rfc28a54ujy19xs0...y.gif&ct=g]



” Drew, you are right I’m not the same man I was nearly two years ago, but are any of us the same person we were years ago? The answer to that question is no… Am I in pain due to the loss of my father? Absolutely I am, hell, it hurts every single second of every day, but I push forward and keep living for him… That is what he would have wanted me to do. He wants to use death against me. Fine… I’ll use all the sorrow raging inside of me on him… In this match, I’m going to take out two years of suffering on Chris Page… As far as Chris Page talking shit, he should be saving his breath, because this is far from over. I’ve got three nights to make him my punching bag and I’m going to do just that. He’s had his chance Drew to run for cover and he chose the ladder… I’m the path that leads to nowhere for Chris Page, he’s just too asinine to see it. Every time we have been across the ring from one another I’ve been that man’s Achilles heel… I refuse to break, fall or fade as Chris, watches the end of his career through dying eyes…”



Robert tosses a few logs onto the already roaring fire as both Robert and Drew watched on at the poetry of the phoenix in its confident gold flame.



[Image: P0tvslq.jpg]



” I just hope that you know what you are doing, if you lose Robert the XWF will die without you” Believe it or not, you are part of the lifeblood of this federation…”



” Drew, when in the hell did you become such a Debby downer? Huh? You used to have all the confidence in the world when I stepped foot inside the squared circle… I’m telling you that there is nothing to worry about… I’ve got this! Trust me, you always have in the past, I know that I have made some terrible decisions man, and those decisions have gotten a lot of people hurt. Relentless I can make up for everything that I have done wrong over the past few years and wipe away something that should have never been… Page is in way over his head, he cannot face forward without becoming unhinged. I’m blocking everything out over these next three nights all these fake actors and bastards that have told me I can’t… Worrying about what everyone else thinks, takes all the fun out of getting revenge… Nowadays everyone is so quick to judge others particularly me, I fall one time and suddenly, my career is over. While a man reigning havoc every freaking week is held up on a pedestal? No, I’ve had enough of that unintelligent narrative, its time for me to raise the dead…”



Robert pauses for a moment looking out the window



” And when I decide to hang up the boots and move on with my life, The XWF will remain… The XWF will thrive… The XWF will love forever… This company isn’t about one man or woman, one stable or one match in time. This is a collective effort by everyone involved, that is what makes this place special, its what bring in new talent, superstars of the future, legends in the making… There will be new Robert Main’s after I’m gone…”



Drew sighed placing his hand on Robert’s shoulder peeking outside the window as well…



” Uh…. Bob… Was it supposed to snow this much? I mean there is a shit load of snow on the ground and it’s still coming down… And this seems like a great time to remind you of two things… We have matches at Relentless and we walked up here…”



Robert chuckled grabbing his cup of coffee finishing the cup.



” No, I didn’t know it was going to snow… I mean it was starting to come down when we were making our way up here but that’s a lot…”



The caffeine abruptly began to kick in giving Robert the kick he needed, this addictive drug that called on him to pour another cup to crave more… Sent his brain into an unsystematic pattern the more Robert drank.



” Let’s step outside and take a closer look… We might have to shovel our way out…”



Drew gives Robert a dirty look…



” Not happening…”


Robert and Drew stepped out onto the cabin’s porch taking everything in…



[Image: giphy.gif?cid=ecf05e476p9xvy7to9ph39t5cj...y.gif&ct=g]



” Well shit…”



” It’s asshole deep!”



” Yep…”



” So, how are we getting out of here Bob?”



” Don’t worry about it. I have a plan, just take everything in and relax, we are here to clear our heads, remember? Let’s do that for now and not worry about later…”



The morning was fridge as the snow continued to fall from the dark cloudy sky that laid overhead. The once green pine forest that surrounded the Main family cabin has now turned into a magical winter wonderland. Substantial carpets of snow-white covers everything around them. The branches of tall pine trees can hardly withstand the overbearing load of heavy wet snow, from time to time the icy wind swooped through the branches dropping humongous piles of snow to the already covered ground… The snow-covered pines looked like intelligent, magnificently dressed-up ladies gathering for a gala. The ground was soft and fluffy with a fresh blanket of snow… It was calm and quiet as the deadly silence crept in, haunting APEX… Robert took one step off the covered porch watching the snowflakes gliding gently through the cold, refreshing air… As a flake lands on his cheek, he closes his eyes and within seconds, its distinguished pattern turns into a bead of water that rolls carefully down Robert’s pink cheek. As he opens his eyes, he sees the trees covered in their own blankets of snow for protection…



” Drew, I want you to know something man, I no longer fear losing my career… Let’s be honest I have sinned so much… I just hope to everyone that I have done wrong has the heart to forgive me, because they know deep down inside who I am, I’m just another innocent soul that allowed myself to be persuaded by wrong… The problem is I must be the dastardly bastard one more time because I have one more sin I must commit. That’s ending Chris Page for good. The funny thing is Chris, believed I would back down from over-the-top browbeating? The only thing that he did was make me want to pound him even further into the canvas than I intended on. We’ve all watched his promos filled with the scowled face and snarling words. His brow line reaching his upper lip, flexing his muscles, all talk and very little action… He’s once again made the same threats he’s been making for nearly two years now… Thinking he is just going to push me around like an amateur. He’s shot his final wad… And how anti-climactic it was… Sitting in his little interview shooting daggers out his beady little eyes, shaking his fist at me, now is the time the bully becomes the bullied. Drew, you know I have never made threats I make freaking promises… Chris is compromised, the senile old man knows I’ve got um right where I want um… Now I’ll creep up and stab him from behind, allowing his career to bleed out in front of the entire world… I've pressured him into a situation where there is no return. He’s the one who has painted himself into a corner with no way out.”



Robert watches the snow continue to fall…



” Drew, can you go out to the garage and see if the snowmobiles are gassed up?”



” Why?”



” Because if they aren’t, we are staying here until all this snow melts…”



” Perfect… Yeah I’ll go walk through the snow to check…”



Drew shakes his head mumbling something under his breath as he makes his way towards the garage… Robert shouts…



” THANKS DREW!”



Drew fumbles through the snow lifting one arm and a middle finger as Robert chuckles…



” Chris, you’ve made this match and everything that goes into it a subliminal fight. I’ll be honest with you; with the passing of my father, I might be going off the deep in a tad bit… I might be one mental breakdown away from utter demise… But I have one thing that you don’t… I’ve still got every ounce of my credibility… So, please do us all a favor and spare us all the sorrow, because we both know this match is the end of the line for one of us… There will not be a tomorrow for one of us in the XWF after night three… And we all have heard how you plan on sweeping me, we both know that isn’t going to happen… All you have done is give empty promise after empty promise when it comes to Robert Main… You’ve turned me into a caged animal and Relentless the cage door comes open… When it comes to superiority, or even omnipotence can brainwash coaxing one into a fraudulent sense of reassurance, it can morph minds, reconditioning or transfiguring one to their untimely demise. And as I spin your equilibrium all around and everything that you knew gets turned upside down, you’ll know finally that you bit off more than you could chew… For a while you everyone into believing that you were something that we all know that you’re not… Good for you… You are nothing more than a blemish in time, a paradox… Chris, I’m as real as it gets, and now there is no coming back, you know I’ll never say die…”



Robert takes a deep breath as the cold wind passes through his body revealing a moment of calm. Serenity is what comes when the pain of loneliness gives way to calm confidence, self-reliance, and a realization that when you can take good care of yourself, you can take good care of others. Tranquility can be a teacher, it gives you the space to take a square look at your inner demons one by one, allowing the light to shine upon them, and learn from what they have to say. At this moment Robert has found his inner peace sitting where his father once did drinking from the very same coffee mug.



” Chris all you’ve ever been is hidden truths and dotted lines, in a world that is filled to the brim with facades, I speak the truth about you or that shit faction B.o.B. I get nailed to the cross for it… Too many people have bought into this propaganda that B.o.B. is the next coming of Jesus Christ and I’ve refused to be silent, remained outspoken on the matter… All B.o.B has ever been for you is protection from the wolves, frontline troops, cannon fodder, the pawns always go first in chess… You’ve done nothing but use and abuse those idiots from the stars and none of them is intelligent enough to see that you have been the puppet master the entire time… Every wound in this checkered battle has been paid in devotion… You’ve indoctrinated my fan base, tricking them into believing that the end of my career will change the XWF forever… And change it for the better… It won’t, the corruption will not only bleed this company dry but will branch out into other federations like OCW… You’ll do to them, what you have done every other place that you have ever stepped foot, use up all the resources and move on like nothing ever happened… I bet everyone is asking what in the hell does OCW have to do with anything. People read between the lines when Chris Page mentions something time and time again, something is going on there. Something over there has peeked his interest… I mean the guy has a massive erection over the place when he should be worried about his career…”



Robert watches as the snow begins blowing in sheets, white and glistening, erasing the troubles beneath, directing him toward a new and positive day. The coldness only hardens his resolve to find his lost smile. He gazes into this swirling perfect whiteness that gives perfect crystalline kisses, the coolness in the air seemed to be rejuvenating Robert’s dead soul, elevating his spirit, and giving him new reasons to step forward with the confidence he once had as Universal Champion. There is beauty in the swirling snow, a form of clarity, the kind of thinking that lets him notice even the small details in life… Robert feels a warm sensation engulfed him and grins…



” There it is… A couple of hours here reminded me of who I am and why I got into this business in the first place… My Dad, the man who supported me from day one, even though he thought getting into this business would kill me… Chris, you’ve taken your very best shots at me and here I stand, war-hardened unwilling to fall… The lies stop here… No more bullshit… I am a product of more pain and suffering than you’ll ever realize… I want you to know Chris, you could never break a brain that was fractured a long time ago… You want to attack me on Twitter like a weak little bitch, go ahead, real tough-talking behind a keyboard. Say it to my face and we all know I’d knock your dick in the dirt before you even knew what hit you… Chris, you are an ole worn out faded wrestler who got a jump start from me… And Chris, the weakness is starting to show, the cracks in the foundation of B.o.B has formed and once I bury you the system that you put in place will all come crumbling down around you… Brick by brick I will tear down B.o.B. down just like I said I would… After you Page, I’ll go on to hunt TK down like the vermin he is and take what he cherishes the most. The XWF Tag Team Championships, and after I’m done thumping his bitch ass on home turf, I’ll go to OCW and take those Tag Team Championships away from him as well… It isn’t hard for wolves to find the flock either, especially when the sheep are fast asleep.”



Suddenly Robert hears one of the snowmobiles start in the distance nodding…



” Tell me, Chris, what separates the good from the extraordinary? I’ll tell you, it’s the ability to play mind games. As I watched that shitshow of an interview I noticed that faraway look in those eyes of yours. That look is one of intimidation, dismay, and apprehension… I called your bluff now I’ve got you trapped in a corner with no way out. Chris when you sit down and take a good long look at me you see the truth. You can see your abysmal future sinking like a rock. Do you want to know why I choose an Iron Man match on night one? Because Page I wanted to slaughter you physically then I’ll then brutalize you mentally. You want a no holds barred match for night two, you got it win or lose you, clown… Soon enough I’ll end you permanently. You might call me egoistical in saying that. You know what I call it Chris, confidence. All you’ve got to do Chris is step up and prove me wrong, something you’ve had a difficult time doing since 2019… Prove to the world that you are of higher quality and can do it all on your own with no help... Chris, I am and always have been the one, the only one who can take you down... The time for sitting idle is over. This is an extremely agonizing miscalculation you’ll instantly regret once I pop your head like a God damn pinata at Relentless… I will not apologize for what I’m about to unleash upon you, I’ll not express grief or feel uneasy as your blood flows and I’m covered in it. We both know what’s going to have to happen to put one or the other away. The question is who is willing to go there? Which one of us is willing to walk right up to the edge of the cliff and jump? To push the needle past the brink. Chris, I have nothing else to lose and I’ll do what I must. The disadvantageous hell that I am about to unleash upon you will never be forgotten…”



Drew flies around the cabin doing multiple doughnuts before stopping and hopping off…



[Image: giphy.gif?cid=ecf05e47nptb17b57nyyaimxmz...y.gif&ct=g]



” Bob, that thing is amazing, we’ve got to come up here more and ride those things…”



Drew can hardly contain himself…



” Now the bad news muchacho, the other one is dead empty, no gas…”



” Okay…”



” Okay, what do you mean okay? How in the hell are we going to get out of here with one snowmobile Bob-O?”



Robert points to the one operational snowmobile as Drew looks it over…



” Wait a second… Both of us on that thing together…”



Drew waves Robert off shaking his head…



” Nope… Not happening, we are close Robert, but that is too close for my comfort… Forget the match with Ned, I’ll stay up here by the fire until spring…”



” Okay, what are you going to do for food?”



Drew looks around scratching his head…



” I don’t know, I’ll forage around for berries and stuff…”



Drew kicks the snow as Robert replies…



” Look around man, do you see an abundance of berries?”



Drew gets frustrated…



” I’ll go hunting then, Dad has a shotgun in the cabin, I’ll go out and blast a few deer and eat like a king…”



Drew pretends he is shooting a deer…



” BLAM… “



” Could you even gut a deer? All the blood and guts all over your hands?”



Drew becomes green thinking about it throwing his hands up…



” Damn it, Bob, I’m spit balling here, but now you’ve got to piss in my cheerios, don’t ya?



The two stare at one another for a few moments at an impasse…



” Fine, I’ll ride it with you, but I get to drive and we go back to back…”



Robert nods…



” Deal… Go get our stuff while I finish up…”



” Why do I have to go and get everything?”



” Because you get to drive, and knowing you I’ll be holding on for my life…”



Drew laughed out loud…



” Yeah… Yeah you will…



Drew continued laughing all the way into the cabin.



” I’m going to regret this… Chris, I know that all the self-appointed, by your admission of bullshit and bravado, you force feed down everyone’s pie hole is just an elaborate cover. You’ve gone on for two fucking years warping reality and I’m the only damn one that sees the truth Robert so, I have no issue with getting my hands down in the filth digging into the true grit of who Chris Page is. Stepping into a mind of psychopathy isn’t like a day at the park. But once I can get past the cruel hard-shelled mercilessness, I’ll show the world the gospel truth. “Chronic” Chris Page you are not a man of immense endowment, nor a man of unmanageable violence. Not even the ungovernable gladiator you illustrate. I’m going to unearth the disturbed, unsettled, frightened little boy, trying to nip at the big dog's heels. Hoping, praying to get just one meniscal scrap from the table you thought you controlled but never did. Chris, look at the list of longest-reigning champions and your name is nowhere near the top, hell you’re not even in the middle… Hell, son, you are not even ranked… You know your career is ticking away one second at a time. Intimidation usually takes some time. Enrooting fear also takes time. But Robert Main has and never will fear Chris Page. Within a blink of an eye, I will sink the ship. Chris, you have been running those dick-suckers a mile a second like the scared neglected bitch that we all know you are. I want you to know you haven’t marked your territory by taking a massive shit on this company. The only thing you have done is make yourself look like a conceited, egoistical prima donna.”


“Once the bell rings and every one of those guarantees Chris, will cease to exist. You will petered out just like you always have, fading away into the background, forgotten. Like smoke lifting away into the air Page, you will evaporate right in front of the worlds very eyes… You’ve once again written a check your ass simply can’t cash. Over the past two years, you’ve never once taken it into consideration that I would have an unbreakable will. All you’ve shown is you believe that I was this monumental failure willing to just roll over and die... Well, guess what jack ass you were wrong… All this coming from a snobby uptown coward.”



Drew walked back outside handing Robert his things…



” You almost finished brooding…”



” Nope…”



” Carry on…”



Drew hopped on the snowmobile…



” Chris at Relentless the toughest man on the planet will suddenly seem human… I am as cut-throat as they come, a slayer among men. The Judge, Jury and Executioner. A hitman who's fearlessly bold and brave to boot… And after every word, The Chronic ass hat has said Robert frightened… Page you’re the type of man that needs drug out into the middle of the woods and disembowel, so the world can be a better place. Chris, you want to know the discrepancy between us. No matter my win-loss record… I’ve always remained hungry, match after match I remain unsatisfied. Thirsty for more, craving the next one on the list, but all of that stopped when you came crawling into the picture didn’t it? I stopped breathing the air at the top… Because of you, I’ve had to keep my head on a swivel, knuckling down bracing myself for the next blow. But here we are you and I locked in a battle that seems like it will go on forever... Like Batman and the Joker… Only this time one of us must go… Will it be the old dog? Or “The Omega”? The very moment Chris, that you take your foot off the gas and begin you wrestling ineffectively. I’ll strike like Thor’s hammer, shocking the living shit out of you… Boom goes the dynamite, Robert wins again… All the accomplishments and achievements are gone. All the hard work, merely a memory. To put it simply. You lose, it’s over. I’m going to wear you down and once that old tried out ass starts to fade, I’m going to pick you apart like the predator that I am… I’ll remain ravenous until the final bell. A bottomless pit of hell until I cannot lift a finger. I’m in pursuit of supremacy and the only way to it is through you Chris…”



Robert stands, putting his Carhart coat on…



” I’ve devoted myself to this war Chris, exchanging blows with you for every single person that you have ever done wrong in the wrestling business. I’m taking a stand for all of them, I battle to be what so few can be called in this business. That’s a man who has “Chronic” Chris Page’s career away… I’ve always wanted to be held in great regard... To be known as the man who bulldozed through each competitor I’ve ever faced. Outshining and overcoming every single obstacle even when the odd always seem so stacked against me. But now I realize my priorities were misplaced, I was seeking fool’s gold and because of you Chris I realize I’ve been wrong for years… Greedy… Relentless is one of the grandest events of them all, and I will fight you Chris Page with the XWF standing firmly behind me. I will battle with everything that I have left in the tank… I will swarm you, overwhelming you, wiping away the memory of Chris Page like the sand and tide. Once the bell rings I understand that I will come eye to eye with unspeakable evil, but I will refuse to waiver. I am the man who will stand for the XWF and OCW in a match where the stakes couldn’t be any higher. This has become more than a battle between two men. This was a war for the heart and soul of the people and will decide the future that we all inhabit… You stand for illusions, erroneous truths. While one of us speaks the truth the other speaks nothing but lies. Chris, I’m that beacon of hope the XWF so desperately needs. For so long you have selfishly denied so many along your journey to the top of the mountain. We are so perfectly matched, two warriors fighting with the same motivation. The same unbreakable will. The entire world will watch as I go to war with a warped and twisted reflection of myself, and everything that I stand for. This struggle will inspire generations to come, reminding them there can only be one choice when confronted by this kind of evil.”



Robert’s eyes sparked as the corners of his eyes crinkled, the corners of his mouth slid upwards without showing his snow-white teeth as his soul suddenly shined through his smile…



” You stand and fight! And I’ll do just that, this is how the mettle of a man is tested, Chris, you believe that you will come to power once again on the back of a lie… I’m here to tell you that I will not allow that to happen… Chris Page you will no longer make the roster of this federation feel small… Relentless the world will witness the truth. They will see that Chris Page was never worthy of the Universal Championship, or all the opportunities handed to him as he cut the line so many times… This war can end only one way. “Chronic “Chris Page - vs - Robert “The Omega” Main will end with Robert taking away Page’s career... And one day we all will look back on this spot in time, all the scars and wreckage left as a brutal reminder, as a promise of never again.”



Drew started the snowmobile…



” You ready to roll Bob?”



Robert nods with another grin…



” You seem different…”



” That’s because I’ve found my smile!”



Drew slaps the handlebars



” Oh, shit Page is in trouble!”



Robert takes a step off the porch before turning back looking at the cabin…



” Thanks Dad…”

]]>







[Image: etLFBci.jpg]


” Have you heard what Page has been saying all over Twitter, Robert? Not to mention that revolutionary interview he’s done what, thousand times now? If the guy had an original thought I’d be impressed. ”



Robert took a deep breath clenching his coffee cup, the aroma of the coffee is part of the tempo of the day, another anchor in Robert’s routine that soothes his soul giving a sense of regularity and consistency. The coffee cup was a rustic clay color, the sort of look that spoke of a tranquil soulfulness. It was heaven on Earth to touch. He placed his father’s favorite coffee cup to his cherry red lips and took a pintsized sip before replying to Drew.



” I have… It’s a Chris Page specialty, he’s shown the world a million times just how unoriginal he truly is. It’s the same dull, un-inspiring routine we’ve all seen for over two years now. He’s letting everyone know how boundless he believes he is, and then tells the same played out vanilla story he’s been telling since 2019. All the dude’s promos are carbon copies, cookie-cutter garbage, and he has the balls to talk about cliché? Watching his mind-numbing, stereotypical stories with Jessica OR Steve in an interview has become drab, to say the least…”



” Well, don’t you think that is pretty low to go after someone’s father who just passed away? Even for a complete dirtbag, like Page, that’s low…”



” It shouldn’t surprise you one bit, Page believes tugging at my emotions will give him a slight advantage, lord knows he needs it…”



Robert lifts the mug once more taking a much larger drink this time leering at Drew…



[Image: FZjZCN0.jpg]



” The only thing that he is accomplishing, is making himself look like an even bigger ass hole, the guy is trying to play emotional warfare with me. Apparently, he didn’t learn a damn thing when we tagged… To me, it wreaks of desperation… Page masquerades with a fake smile pretending that he is a man-made of stone when in reality he just needs a savior from all of this, someone to put him down for good and at Relentless I’m going to cash it all in to do just that… ”



Robert points at his head a few times…



” Steel trap… I’m playing three-dimensional chess, while this guy is out there playing checkers, let him say whatever he wants, it does not affect me or this match…”



” But Robert, he kind of has a point here, you are not in a great place mentally… You’re not the same Robert Main from when you were Universal Champion…”



Robert’s brow abruptly raises as he sits mug down on the table heading towards the fireplace…



[Image: giphy.gif?cid=ecf05e4794rfc28a54ujy19xs0...y.gif&ct=g]



” Drew, you are right I’m not the same man I was nearly two years ago, but are any of us the same person we were years ago? The answer to that question is no… Am I in pain due to the loss of my father? Absolutely I am, hell, it hurts every single second of every day, but I push forward and keep living for him… That is what he would have wanted me to do. He wants to use death against me. Fine… I’ll use all the sorrow raging inside of me on him… In this match, I’m going to take out two years of suffering on Chris Page… As far as Chris Page talking shit, he should be saving his breath, because this is far from over. I’ve got three nights to make him my punching bag and I’m going to do just that. He’s had his chance Drew to run for cover and he chose the ladder… I’m the path that leads to nowhere for Chris Page, he’s just too asinine to see it. Every time we have been across the ring from one another I’ve been that man’s Achilles heel… I refuse to break, fall or fade as Chris, watches the end of his career through dying eyes…”



Robert tosses a few logs onto the already roaring fire as both Robert and Drew watched on at the poetry of the phoenix in its confident gold flame.



[Image: P0tvslq.jpg]



” I just hope that you know what you are doing, if you lose Robert the XWF will die without you” Believe it or not, you are part of the lifeblood of this federation…”



” Drew, when in the hell did you become such a Debby downer? Huh? You used to have all the confidence in the world when I stepped foot inside the squared circle… I’m telling you that there is nothing to worry about… I’ve got this! Trust me, you always have in the past, I know that I have made some terrible decisions man, and those decisions have gotten a lot of people hurt. Relentless I can make up for everything that I have done wrong over the past few years and wipe away something that should have never been… Page is in way over his head, he cannot face forward without becoming unhinged. I’m blocking everything out over these next three nights all these fake actors and bastards that have told me I can’t… Worrying about what everyone else thinks, takes all the fun out of getting revenge… Nowadays everyone is so quick to judge others particularly me, I fall one time and suddenly, my career is over. While a man reigning havoc every freaking week is held up on a pedestal? No, I’ve had enough of that unintelligent narrative, its time for me to raise the dead…”



Robert pauses for a moment looking out the window



” And when I decide to hang up the boots and move on with my life, The XWF will remain… The XWF will thrive… The XWF will love forever… This company isn’t about one man or woman, one stable or one match in time. This is a collective effort by everyone involved, that is what makes this place special, its what bring in new talent, superstars of the future, legends in the making… There will be new Robert Main’s after I’m gone…”



Drew sighed placing his hand on Robert’s shoulder peeking outside the window as well…



” Uh…. Bob… Was it supposed to snow this much? I mean there is a shit load of snow on the ground and it’s still coming down… And this seems like a great time to remind you of two things… We have matches at Relentless and we walked up here…”



Robert chuckled grabbing his cup of coffee finishing the cup.



” No, I didn’t know it was going to snow… I mean it was starting to come down when we were making our way up here but that’s a lot…”



The caffeine abruptly began to kick in giving Robert the kick he needed, this addictive drug that called on him to pour another cup to crave more… Sent his brain into an unsystematic pattern the more Robert drank.



” Let’s step outside and take a closer look… We might have to shovel our way out…”



Drew gives Robert a dirty look…



” Not happening…”


Robert and Drew stepped out onto the cabin’s porch taking everything in…



[Image: giphy.gif?cid=ecf05e476p9xvy7to9ph39t5cj...y.gif&ct=g]



” Well shit…”



” It’s asshole deep!”



” Yep…”



” So, how are we getting out of here Bob?”



” Don’t worry about it. I have a plan, just take everything in and relax, we are here to clear our heads, remember? Let’s do that for now and not worry about later…”



The morning was fridge as the snow continued to fall from the dark cloudy sky that laid overhead. The once green pine forest that surrounded the Main family cabin has now turned into a magical winter wonderland. Substantial carpets of snow-white covers everything around them. The branches of tall pine trees can hardly withstand the overbearing load of heavy wet snow, from time to time the icy wind swooped through the branches dropping humongous piles of snow to the already covered ground… The snow-covered pines looked like intelligent, magnificently dressed-up ladies gathering for a gala. The ground was soft and fluffy with a fresh blanket of snow… It was calm and quiet as the deadly silence crept in, haunting APEX… Robert took one step off the covered porch watching the snowflakes gliding gently through the cold, refreshing air… As a flake lands on his cheek, he closes his eyes and within seconds, its distinguished pattern turns into a bead of water that rolls carefully down Robert’s pink cheek. As he opens his eyes, he sees the trees covered in their own blankets of snow for protection…



” Drew, I want you to know something man, I no longer fear losing my career… Let’s be honest I have sinned so much… I just hope to everyone that I have done wrong has the heart to forgive me, because they know deep down inside who I am, I’m just another innocent soul that allowed myself to be persuaded by wrong… The problem is I must be the dastardly bastard one more time because I have one more sin I must commit. That’s ending Chris Page for good. The funny thing is Chris, believed I would back down from over-the-top browbeating? The only thing that he did was make me want to pound him even further into the canvas than I intended on. We’ve all watched his promos filled with the scowled face and snarling words. His brow line reaching his upper lip, flexing his muscles, all talk and very little action… He’s once again made the same threats he’s been making for nearly two years now… Thinking he is just going to push me around like an amateur. He’s shot his final wad… And how anti-climactic it was… Sitting in his little interview shooting daggers out his beady little eyes, shaking his fist at me, now is the time the bully becomes the bullied. Drew, you know I have never made threats I make freaking promises… Chris is compromised, the senile old man knows I’ve got um right where I want um… Now I’ll creep up and stab him from behind, allowing his career to bleed out in front of the entire world… I've pressured him into a situation where there is no return. He’s the one who has painted himself into a corner with no way out.”



Robert watches the snow continue to fall…



” Drew, can you go out to the garage and see if the snowmobiles are gassed up?”



” Why?”



” Because if they aren’t, we are staying here until all this snow melts…”



” Perfect… Yeah I’ll go walk through the snow to check…”



Drew shakes his head mumbling something under his breath as he makes his way towards the garage… Robert shouts…



” THANKS DREW!”



Drew fumbles through the snow lifting one arm and a middle finger as Robert chuckles…



” Chris, you’ve made this match and everything that goes into it a subliminal fight. I’ll be honest with you; with the passing of my father, I might be going off the deep in a tad bit… I might be one mental breakdown away from utter demise… But I have one thing that you don’t… I’ve still got every ounce of my credibility… So, please do us all a favor and spare us all the sorrow, because we both know this match is the end of the line for one of us… There will not be a tomorrow for one of us in the XWF after night three… And we all have heard how you plan on sweeping me, we both know that isn’t going to happen… All you have done is give empty promise after empty promise when it comes to Robert Main… You’ve turned me into a caged animal and Relentless the cage door comes open… When it comes to superiority, or even omnipotence can brainwash coaxing one into a fraudulent sense of reassurance, it can morph minds, reconditioning or transfiguring one to their untimely demise. And as I spin your equilibrium all around and everything that you knew gets turned upside down, you’ll know finally that you bit off more than you could chew… For a while you everyone into believing that you were something that we all know that you’re not… Good for you… You are nothing more than a blemish in time, a paradox… Chris, I’m as real as it gets, and now there is no coming back, you know I’ll never say die…”



Robert takes a deep breath as the cold wind passes through his body revealing a moment of calm. Serenity is what comes when the pain of loneliness gives way to calm confidence, self-reliance, and a realization that when you can take good care of yourself, you can take good care of others. Tranquility can be a teacher, it gives you the space to take a square look at your inner demons one by one, allowing the light to shine upon them, and learn from what they have to say. At this moment Robert has found his inner peace sitting where his father once did drinking from the very same coffee mug.



” Chris all you’ve ever been is hidden truths and dotted lines, in a world that is filled to the brim with facades, I speak the truth about you or that shit faction B.o.B. I get nailed to the cross for it… Too many people have bought into this propaganda that B.o.B. is the next coming of Jesus Christ and I’ve refused to be silent, remained outspoken on the matter… All B.o.B has ever been for you is protection from the wolves, frontline troops, cannon fodder, the pawns always go first in chess… You’ve done nothing but use and abuse those idiots from the stars and none of them is intelligent enough to see that you have been the puppet master the entire time… Every wound in this checkered battle has been paid in devotion… You’ve indoctrinated my fan base, tricking them into believing that the end of my career will change the XWF forever… And change it for the better… It won’t, the corruption will not only bleed this company dry but will branch out into other federations like OCW… You’ll do to them, what you have done every other place that you have ever stepped foot, use up all the resources and move on like nothing ever happened… I bet everyone is asking what in the hell does OCW have to do with anything. People read between the lines when Chris Page mentions something time and time again, something is going on there. Something over there has peeked his interest… I mean the guy has a massive erection over the place when he should be worried about his career…”



Robert watches as the snow begins blowing in sheets, white and glistening, erasing the troubles beneath, directing him toward a new and positive day. The coldness only hardens his resolve to find his lost smile. He gazes into this swirling perfect whiteness that gives perfect crystalline kisses, the coolness in the air seemed to be rejuvenating Robert’s dead soul, elevating his spirit, and giving him new reasons to step forward with the confidence he once had as Universal Champion. There is beauty in the swirling snow, a form of clarity, the kind of thinking that lets him notice even the small details in life… Robert feels a warm sensation engulfed him and grins…



” There it is… A couple of hours here reminded me of who I am and why I got into this business in the first place… My Dad, the man who supported me from day one, even though he thought getting into this business would kill me… Chris, you’ve taken your very best shots at me and here I stand, war-hardened unwilling to fall… The lies stop here… No more bullshit… I am a product of more pain and suffering than you’ll ever realize… I want you to know Chris, you could never break a brain that was fractured a long time ago… You want to attack me on Twitter like a weak little bitch, go ahead, real tough-talking behind a keyboard. Say it to my face and we all know I’d knock your dick in the dirt before you even knew what hit you… Chris, you are an ole worn out faded wrestler who got a jump start from me… And Chris, the weakness is starting to show, the cracks in the foundation of B.o.B has formed and once I bury you the system that you put in place will all come crumbling down around you… Brick by brick I will tear down B.o.B. down just like I said I would… After you Page, I’ll go on to hunt TK down like the vermin he is and take what he cherishes the most. The XWF Tag Team Championships, and after I’m done thumping his bitch ass on home turf, I’ll go to OCW and take those Tag Team Championships away from him as well… It isn’t hard for wolves to find the flock either, especially when the sheep are fast asleep.”



Suddenly Robert hears one of the snowmobiles start in the distance nodding…



” Tell me, Chris, what separates the good from the extraordinary? I’ll tell you, it’s the ability to play mind games. As I watched that shitshow of an interview I noticed that faraway look in those eyes of yours. That look is one of intimidation, dismay, and apprehension… I called your bluff now I’ve got you trapped in a corner with no way out. Chris when you sit down and take a good long look at me you see the truth. You can see your abysmal future sinking like a rock. Do you want to know why I choose an Iron Man match on night one? Because Page I wanted to slaughter you physically then I’ll then brutalize you mentally. You want a no holds barred match for night two, you got it win or lose you, clown… Soon enough I’ll end you permanently. You might call me egoistical in saying that. You know what I call it Chris, confidence. All you’ve got to do Chris is step up and prove me wrong, something you’ve had a difficult time doing since 2019… Prove to the world that you are of higher quality and can do it all on your own with no help... Chris, I am and always have been the one, the only one who can take you down... The time for sitting idle is over. This is an extremely agonizing miscalculation you’ll instantly regret once I pop your head like a God damn pinata at Relentless… I will not apologize for what I’m about to unleash upon you, I’ll not express grief or feel uneasy as your blood flows and I’m covered in it. We both know what’s going to have to happen to put one or the other away. The question is who is willing to go there? Which one of us is willing to walk right up to the edge of the cliff and jump? To push the needle past the brink. Chris, I have nothing else to lose and I’ll do what I must. The disadvantageous hell that I am about to unleash upon you will never be forgotten…”



Drew flies around the cabin doing multiple doughnuts before stopping and hopping off…



[Image: giphy.gif?cid=ecf05e47nptb17b57nyyaimxmz...y.gif&ct=g]



” Bob, that thing is amazing, we’ve got to come up here more and ride those things…”



Drew can hardly contain himself…



” Now the bad news muchacho, the other one is dead empty, no gas…”



” Okay…”



” Okay, what do you mean okay? How in the hell are we going to get out of here with one snowmobile Bob-O?”



Robert points to the one operational snowmobile as Drew looks it over…



” Wait a second… Both of us on that thing together…”



Drew waves Robert off shaking his head…



” Nope… Not happening, we are close Robert, but that is too close for my comfort… Forget the match with Ned, I’ll stay up here by the fire until spring…”



” Okay, what are you going to do for food?”



Drew looks around scratching his head…



” I don’t know, I’ll forage around for berries and stuff…”



Drew kicks the snow as Robert replies…



” Look around man, do you see an abundance of berries?”



Drew gets frustrated…



” I’ll go hunting then, Dad has a shotgun in the cabin, I’ll go out and blast a few deer and eat like a king…”



Drew pretends he is shooting a deer…



” BLAM… “



” Could you even gut a deer? All the blood and guts all over your hands?”



Drew becomes green thinking about it throwing his hands up…



” Damn it, Bob, I’m spit balling here, but now you’ve got to piss in my cheerios, don’t ya?



The two stare at one another for a few moments at an impasse…



” Fine, I’ll ride it with you, but I get to drive and we go back to back…”



Robert nods…



” Deal… Go get our stuff while I finish up…”



” Why do I have to go and get everything?”



” Because you get to drive, and knowing you I’ll be holding on for my life…”



Drew laughed out loud…



” Yeah… Yeah you will…



Drew continued laughing all the way into the cabin.



” I’m going to regret this… Chris, I know that all the self-appointed, by your admission of bullshit and bravado, you force feed down everyone’s pie hole is just an elaborate cover. You’ve gone on for two fucking years warping reality and I’m the only damn one that sees the truth Robert so, I have no issue with getting my hands down in the filth digging into the true grit of who Chris Page is. Stepping into a mind of psychopathy isn’t like a day at the park. But once I can get past the cruel hard-shelled mercilessness, I’ll show the world the gospel truth. “Chronic” Chris Page you are not a man of immense endowment, nor a man of unmanageable violence. Not even the ungovernable gladiator you illustrate. I’m going to unearth the disturbed, unsettled, frightened little boy, trying to nip at the big dog's heels. Hoping, praying to get just one meniscal scrap from the table you thought you controlled but never did. Chris, look at the list of longest-reigning champions and your name is nowhere near the top, hell you’re not even in the middle… Hell, son, you are not even ranked… You know your career is ticking away one second at a time. Intimidation usually takes some time. Enrooting fear also takes time. But Robert Main has and never will fear Chris Page. Within a blink of an eye, I will sink the ship. Chris, you have been running those dick-suckers a mile a second like the scared neglected bitch that we all know you are. I want you to know you haven’t marked your territory by taking a massive shit on this company. The only thing you have done is make yourself look like a conceited, egoistical prima donna.”


“Once the bell rings and every one of those guarantees Chris, will cease to exist. You will petered out just like you always have, fading away into the background, forgotten. Like smoke lifting away into the air Page, you will evaporate right in front of the worlds very eyes… You’ve once again written a check your ass simply can’t cash. Over the past two years, you’ve never once taken it into consideration that I would have an unbreakable will. All you’ve shown is you believe that I was this monumental failure willing to just roll over and die... Well, guess what jack ass you were wrong… All this coming from a snobby uptown coward.”



Drew walked back outside handing Robert his things…



” You almost finished brooding…”



” Nope…”



” Carry on…”



Drew hopped on the snowmobile…



” Chris at Relentless the toughest man on the planet will suddenly seem human… I am as cut-throat as they come, a slayer among men. The Judge, Jury and Executioner. A hitman who's fearlessly bold and brave to boot… And after every word, The Chronic ass hat has said Robert frightened… Page you’re the type of man that needs drug out into the middle of the woods and disembowel, so the world can be a better place. Chris, you want to know the discrepancy between us. No matter my win-loss record… I’ve always remained hungry, match after match I remain unsatisfied. Thirsty for more, craving the next one on the list, but all of that stopped when you came crawling into the picture didn’t it? I stopped breathing the air at the top… Because of you, I’ve had to keep my head on a swivel, knuckling down bracing myself for the next blow. But here we are you and I locked in a battle that seems like it will go on forever... Like Batman and the Joker… Only this time one of us must go… Will it be the old dog? Or “The Omega”? The very moment Chris, that you take your foot off the gas and begin you wrestling ineffectively. I’ll strike like Thor’s hammer, shocking the living shit out of you… Boom goes the dynamite, Robert wins again… All the accomplishments and achievements are gone. All the hard work, merely a memory. To put it simply. You lose, it’s over. I’m going to wear you down and once that old tried out ass starts to fade, I’m going to pick you apart like the predator that I am… I’ll remain ravenous until the final bell. A bottomless pit of hell until I cannot lift a finger. I’m in pursuit of supremacy and the only way to it is through you Chris…”



Robert stands, putting his Carhart coat on…



” I’ve devoted myself to this war Chris, exchanging blows with you for every single person that you have ever done wrong in the wrestling business. I’m taking a stand for all of them, I battle to be what so few can be called in this business. That’s a man who has “Chronic” Chris Page’s career away… I’ve always wanted to be held in great regard... To be known as the man who bulldozed through each competitor I’ve ever faced. Outshining and overcoming every single obstacle even when the odd always seem so stacked against me. But now I realize my priorities were misplaced, I was seeking fool’s gold and because of you Chris I realize I’ve been wrong for years… Greedy… Relentless is one of the grandest events of them all, and I will fight you Chris Page with the XWF standing firmly behind me. I will battle with everything that I have left in the tank… I will swarm you, overwhelming you, wiping away the memory of Chris Page like the sand and tide. Once the bell rings I understand that I will come eye to eye with unspeakable evil, but I will refuse to waiver. I am the man who will stand for the XWF and OCW in a match where the stakes couldn’t be any higher. This has become more than a battle between two men. This was a war for the heart and soul of the people and will decide the future that we all inhabit… You stand for illusions, erroneous truths. While one of us speaks the truth the other speaks nothing but lies. Chris, I’m that beacon of hope the XWF so desperately needs. For so long you have selfishly denied so many along your journey to the top of the mountain. We are so perfectly matched, two warriors fighting with the same motivation. The same unbreakable will. The entire world will watch as I go to war with a warped and twisted reflection of myself, and everything that I stand for. This struggle will inspire generations to come, reminding them there can only be one choice when confronted by this kind of evil.”



Robert’s eyes sparked as the corners of his eyes crinkled, the corners of his mouth slid upwards without showing his snow-white teeth as his soul suddenly shined through his smile…



” You stand and fight! And I’ll do just that, this is how the mettle of a man is tested, Chris, you believe that you will come to power once again on the back of a lie… I’m here to tell you that I will not allow that to happen… Chris Page you will no longer make the roster of this federation feel small… Relentless the world will witness the truth. They will see that Chris Page was never worthy of the Universal Championship, or all the opportunities handed to him as he cut the line so many times… This war can end only one way. “Chronic “Chris Page - vs - Robert “The Omega” Main will end with Robert taking away Page’s career... And one day we all will look back on this spot in time, all the scars and wreckage left as a brutal reminder, as a promise of never again.”



Drew started the snowmobile…



” You ready to roll Bob?”



Robert nods with another grin…



” You seem different…”



” That’s because I’ve found my smile!”



Drew slaps the handlebars



” Oh, shit Page is in trouble!”



Robert takes a step off the porch before turning back looking at the cabin…



” Thanks Dad…”

]]> <![CDATA[You Will Know Fear]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41954 Fri, 24 Sep 2021 23:33:54 -0700 Talia Areano]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41954 The camera pans it's pretty later in the night. Then, the scene switches to Talia Areano in her motel room. She is wearing a black tee-shirt and blue jeans. It's her downtime hour, as she has been preparing for her match at Relentless Night Three. As Talia makes her way to the couch in a motel, she flips open her laptop, making her way to the webcam feature. Talia gives a smile before she begins to speak.

"Hola amigos! As all of you know, Relentless is fastly approaching. Everyone featured on the even is trying to do whatever they can to get into the mindset of their opponents. Pressure is pretty high at the moment but wait until the final moments. That's when it gets fascinating."

Talia leans back, resting her back on the couch getting very comfortable.

"Marf, we have arrived at the next level of our match at Relentless. The point where we go for the gut and attack the limbs of each other. At the same time, you wait so desperately for me to pick apart your promo into pieces. But honestly, my amigo, I don't have or do I need to either. But Marf, no matter how much I respect the competition, I know I must do what it takes to win this match. I have been in this business for over a decade, and I know fair well this won't. So I must win this match."

She nods her head.

"Everybody has their intangibles; those intangibles haven't only allowed me to pick up wins inside of XWF. But outside of it as well against the best in the world. I decided to travel the world to seek out the competition than have somebody show up in XWF. I went to their federations and countries, got in their faces, and told them I would be the best, and you know what? I did just that, to the point that OCW was reaching out to me and other places. You have just been another guy on the roster, the same old ones I have seen in the past with an attitude problem; they all have come and gone and achieved nothing and leaves the sport for promising not to be heard from again."

Talia shakes her head.

"While you want to discredit the people that I have beat in my short return to XWF. I have managed to get right in line for a shot for a championship. This tells me, Marf, that no matter how hard you have been trying to stand out from the pack, it still took you longer to get to this point. While you can complain about me getting this shot, your opinion means none in the eyes of management. Out of everyone that signed up for this event, I am standing across from you. I will be the one to beat you in the middle of that ring and move on to the next step of my career as a champion."

Talia rubs her chin.

"I know far and well the kind of man you are, Marf. All this pain and punishment, and I have to tell you at this point; it's nothing new at all. Damn, nearly half the roster claims to be some deadly force to be reckoned with, and they all have suffered defeats single every one of them. Same with you, Marf; this person that brings so much pain has suffered losses. This will be one of them, Marf; the pain will come to my Marf, I am sure of it. You will do everything in your power to hurt me. I don't expect anything less Marf."

She holds up her hand, pausing for a second.

"But will this pain be like anything I am used to? That is the question because I can take a lot of Marf, my body can endure a lot of punishment, and my speed is something to be feared. In addition, I have a decade-plus of ring experience. I have been surround by spears and other deadly animals in XWF. I have done it all in my short return to XWF. Is anything you can muster can match those?"

Talia's eyes become intense, a blaze of fire appearing in them.

"My focus is sounded Marf, while you are preparing for the afterparty, I am instead preparing for this match and taking the extra time in training. I take every encounter seriously Marf, while you discredit everyone, including myself, I see that anybody can show the world what they are made of, and this is my time to show not only the people of XWF what I made of but also the world. In contrast, you try so hard to break my body and realize that no matter what I keep getting you, you will express something you haven't, Marf, fear. When you know I won't stay down, that is the moment that speaks loud and clear that I wipe the blood from my beaten face and get in your face. You will know to fear Marf; I have a lot of heart, Marf, my heart will outlast your assault, and when that happens. Your end will come, Marf, you will taste defeat by my hands, and you will know you underestimating me was your grave mistake."

With a rugged look in the eyes of Talia as she switches off the webcam, the scene fades to black.]]> The camera pans it's pretty later in the night. Then, the scene switches to Talia Areano in her motel room. She is wearing a black tee-shirt and blue jeans. It's her downtime hour, as she has been preparing for her match at Relentless Night Three. As Talia makes her way to the couch in a motel, she flips open her laptop, making her way to the webcam feature. Talia gives a smile before she begins to speak.

"Hola amigos! As all of you know, Relentless is fastly approaching. Everyone featured on the even is trying to do whatever they can to get into the mindset of their opponents. Pressure is pretty high at the moment but wait until the final moments. That's when it gets fascinating."

Talia leans back, resting her back on the couch getting very comfortable.

"Marf, we have arrived at the next level of our match at Relentless. The point where we go for the gut and attack the limbs of each other. At the same time, you wait so desperately for me to pick apart your promo into pieces. But honestly, my amigo, I don't have or do I need to either. But Marf, no matter how much I respect the competition, I know I must do what it takes to win this match. I have been in this business for over a decade, and I know fair well this won't. So I must win this match."

She nods her head.

"Everybody has their intangibles; those intangibles haven't only allowed me to pick up wins inside of XWF. But outside of it as well against the best in the world. I decided to travel the world to seek out the competition than have somebody show up in XWF. I went to their federations and countries, got in their faces, and told them I would be the best, and you know what? I did just that, to the point that OCW was reaching out to me and other places. You have just been another guy on the roster, the same old ones I have seen in the past with an attitude problem; they all have come and gone and achieved nothing and leaves the sport for promising not to be heard from again."

Talia shakes her head.

"While you want to discredit the people that I have beat in my short return to XWF. I have managed to get right in line for a shot for a championship. This tells me, Marf, that no matter how hard you have been trying to stand out from the pack, it still took you longer to get to this point. While you can complain about me getting this shot, your opinion means none in the eyes of management. Out of everyone that signed up for this event, I am standing across from you. I will be the one to beat you in the middle of that ring and move on to the next step of my career as a champion."

Talia rubs her chin.

"I know far and well the kind of man you are, Marf. All this pain and punishment, and I have to tell you at this point; it's nothing new at all. Damn, nearly half the roster claims to be some deadly force to be reckoned with, and they all have suffered defeats single every one of them. Same with you, Marf; this person that brings so much pain has suffered losses. This will be one of them, Marf; the pain will come to my Marf, I am sure of it. You will do everything in your power to hurt me. I don't expect anything less Marf."

She holds up her hand, pausing for a second.

"But will this pain be like anything I am used to? That is the question because I can take a lot of Marf, my body can endure a lot of punishment, and my speed is something to be feared. In addition, I have a decade-plus of ring experience. I have been surround by spears and other deadly animals in XWF. I have done it all in my short return to XWF. Is anything you can muster can match those?"

Talia's eyes become intense, a blaze of fire appearing in them.

"My focus is sounded Marf, while you are preparing for the afterparty, I am instead preparing for this match and taking the extra time in training. I take every encounter seriously Marf, while you discredit everyone, including myself, I see that anybody can show the world what they are made of, and this is my time to show not only the people of XWF what I made of but also the world. In contrast, you try so hard to break my body and realize that no matter what I keep getting you, you will express something you haven't, Marf, fear. When you know I won't stay down, that is the moment that speaks loud and clear that I wipe the blood from my beaten face and get in your face. You will know to fear Marf; I have a lot of heart, Marf, my heart will outlast your assault, and when that happens. Your end will come, Marf, you will taste defeat by my hands, and you will know you underestimating me was your grave mistake."

With a rugged look in the eyes of Talia as she switches off the webcam, the scene fades to black.]]> <![CDATA[The Haunted Chronicles of Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41942 Thu, 23 Sep 2021 23:49:19 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41942
##The fire grows hotter
Our names will be screamed aloud
The story will change##


-Part Four-
“STICKS and STONES”


The Ex-Detective wakes up.

I woke up to the feeling of something prodding me in the stomach and even a few times in the cheek. Something sharp, but not so much as to puncture my clothes or my skin and it was hardly noticeable after I realized how bad my head was killing me.

I opened my eyes and saw it was now early morning. Again, I told you I sleep too much. This wasn’t so much a sleep though, more of a you’re thrown from a moving vehicle and smack your head off the road. Through my blurred vision I saw two silhouettes standing above me with obviously one of them doing the prodding.

“Do you think he’s dead?” I heard someone say. A girl.

“Maybe! If he is, I call his wallet!”

I recognized that voice. It sounded like--

“Oh Charlie… Hey, look! He’s moving!”

I sat up and smacked away the small stick that the girl was using to poke me with.

“He’s feral!” Said Charlie, pushing the girl in front of him.

“He ain’t no feral, Charlie. Look at ‘im! He’s hurt!”

I looked around and found myself on a back road across the river from the city. I could see it less than a quarter of a mile away, I guess I was lucky I gave Oswald the time of day or else I could have easily ended up in the bottom of that river.

“Hey, Mister? You okay?” Said the girl as she kneeled in front of me.

She looked confused at my face as if she might’ve recognized me, too.

“The name’s Dolly. Dolly Waters.”

“Ugh.” I managed to say.

“What are you standing around for Charlie? Help him up!”

The burley guy from the booth yesterday shuffled over, grabbed me by my arm, and forced me to my feet. I wobbled my head around trying to get the rest of my focus back.

“You okay, or what, Mister?” She’s prodded me..

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I finally mumbled out.

“What the hell happened to ya?” She prodded again.

“I, uh, just--” What are words?

I closed my eyes and rubbed my face. I couldn’t put a single thought together. Was I concussed? Was my brain bleeding? I could hear Charlie snickering outside of my darkness. I opened my eyes and saw him smiling and Dolly continuing to look confused at me.

“I saw him strolling up to the tower yesterday. I was gonna warn ya buddy, ya don’t wanna piss around with Theo. He’s kind of a dick.” Charlie mentioned.

“Yeah, sorry if I got you in any trouble.”

“Trouble? Me? PFFFFT! How so?”

“Pryce asked me if you were hanging around and called security to have you removed from the premises.”

“Ha! Little Feather couldn’t track a rainbow to a pot of liquor!” Charlie laughed.

“Charlie, I told you not to be hanging around there anymore. You know how much Theo hates it,” said Dolly with a disappointed tone. “Why do you go there?”

Charlie reached down his pants and pulled out a wad of cash and smiled.

“City-folk are pretty gullible!” He said as he shoved the wad back down and I’m pretty sure he winked at me, but I wasn’t looking his way.

“You look pretty beat up, Mister. Why don’t you head back with us and we’ll patch you up.”

“Head back where?” I mumbled again.

“Our home,” she said cheerfully before Charlie stepped in.

“Hey, how can we trust this guy? I don’t know if Theo dumped his ass out here or not. He could be working for him. We can’t bring anyone like that back with us.”

Dolly peered closely at me, narrowed her eyes, and looked me up and down.

“You working for Theo, Mister?”

“Trevor. You can call me, Trevor.”

“I’m gonna call you Trey,” Charlie interjected.

“But that’s not my name.”

“Sure it is! It’s short for Trevor! What’s the big deal, Trey?”

“You never answered the question, Mister,” interrupted Dolly.

“He might not be working FOR him, maybe he’s working WITH HIM!” Charlie held up an index finger in his found revelation.

“Which is it, Mister? Are you working WITH or FOR Theo?”

“Yeah, spit it out!”

“No, I’m not working for OR with Pryce!” I screamed.

Dolly and Charlie both took a step back and said, “Woah!”

“Chill pill, dude.” Dolly whispered.

“Yeah, until we get back to our neighborhood, it’s best we don’t attract any unwanted attention,” said Charlie.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” I take a step back myself. “ Look, I’ll come with you. Maybe you guys can help me figure out what I can do next.”


The Patient sits on his knees on the floor scribbling across several sheets of paper… Scratching portraits and long texts… Skipping from one sheet to another… He stops and mumbles some incoherent nothings then angrily tears one of the papers and tosses the shreds of paper into the air. He stands up and hurries across the room to a desk where more papers are scattered. He looks through the pile of them, frantically reading them one by one before tossing them aside. The Patient grabs the pencil from behind his ear and starts scribbling on another sheet of white paper. Within a few minutes he has his picture finished and rushes over to the wall where many other long sheets of texts and portraits hang.

[Image: rkq2bb3.png?1]

The Patient admires it for a few moments before taking a step back and admiring his wall. He lets out a long, dismissive sigh when he hears the lock to his door unlatch and the door swing open. Two armed orderlies enter the room and guard each side of the door followed by one other one carrying a tray of fruit. The Patient watches the orderly cross the room through the scattered papers on the floor like a bobcat watching a little bunny rabbit. The food is delivered to the table in the center of the room and the orderly turns around for the exit. He stops halfway and turns to the Patient.

You’d better tidy up some in here… You know how the Doctor hates walking into a mess….

The Patient puts his head down and allows the orderly to leave the room unscathed. The two armed ones follow him and shut the door behind them leaving him alone in his room with his scribblings and his fruit, which ends up flung, tray and all, against the door shortly after it is latched.



I went with Dolly and Charlie back to their end of town, which was actually Old XWF territory. The buildings were far more run down here than they were across the bridge, it was like a slum. The store rooms upstairs in old convenience shops were converted into apartments and those shops were used to advertise and pawn off whatever you could scavenge for whatever someone else could scavenge. Those that lived here truly lived off of themselves and it was very Old West-like, but made of concrete instead of sand.

I followed Dolly and Charlie through the dirty streets until they cut down an alleyway. I pulled my box of cigarettes out of my pocket and noticed I’m dangerously low with only a few left.

“You know where I could get more smokes?”

I chose not to ration one right now and tried lighting one up, but my lighter started failing me. I flicked it and flicked it, but only a spark.

“You gotta be shittin’ me…” I said and let my arms fall to my sides. I looked ever forward and noticed that my companions were gone.

“Hey! Charlie? Dolly? Where’d you go?”

I heard nothing in return and slowly continued down the alley. When I came to an intersection I stopped and looked and listened each way for a sign of either of them, but there was nothing. I had a decision to make now, I could go forward, left, or right… I was about to make the choice on my own and head right before I heard some light, girlish laughter coming from the left. My path was obvious for me, so I turned around and headed that way.

For what appeared to be the middle of the day, I wasn’t sure what time it was, things got awfully dark. The walls felt like they were creeping in closer and closer and, oddly enough, the garbage and debris lying around became less and less. The alley took a quick turn and the walls shortened my arm span little by little as I continued forward. I now have a roof over my head and a very limited, flickering light source above my head. I noticed the pavement at my feet had changed to a filthy, white ceramic floor. I heard the laughter again followed by some indecipherable whispers.

“What the fuck is this?” I muttered.

I could feel my heartbeat in my temples, my hands, my legs, my stomach… And the pain was starting to come back… A cold sweat began to come on; I started to stagger and bounced from one of the walls like I was drunk. I faced another corner and took the turn again, the adventure, again, choosing ever forward. Ahead of me was a long corridor, at the end an old wooden door with a bright glow surrounding the outer edges of it drew me closer. I approached it, feeling it’s own pulse in rhythm with my own in every step I took. When I finally got to the door and reached for the handle and--

“Hey, there you are!”

Dolly grabbed me by the wrist and the entire world around me flashed back to an open alleyway like the one I thought I left. The pain was gone like it was never there and with my other hand, I saw that I was holding a door handle for a rusted old door that hasn’t been opened in a long, long time. I looked back at her and took a couple of steps back to gather my bearings again.

“There’s nothing in there, you know.”

“Yeah, uh, I wasn’t.” I struggled to find the words again.

“Whatever. Follow me… And try to keep up this time!”


The Doctor stands in front of a TV monitor watching the Patient as he diligently continues his work inside his room..

Doctor…?

A voice from a different nurse enters the room. We’re not inside the Doctor’s office, we’re in an observation area where the Doctor has surveillance access of the Patient.

Yes?

The Doctor about-faces and smiles at her as she approaches him carrying a clipboard.

I have the end of day reports for you.

He smiles and claps his hands together.

Oh, perfect! Please, please!

The Doctor motions for the nurse to read from the clipboard.

Uh… uh.. The Patient has shown an increase in verbal and physical aggression over the past several days. Patient continues to suffer from sadness, anxiety, sleep deprivation, delusions, hallucinations, and self-defecation.

Oh, do we need to hire a nanny to change him now, as well?

The nurse continues to uncomfortably read the report.

The Patient continues to require paper and a utensil to write with. The Patient is content when they are allowed to draw or write. The Patient does not eat and drinks only when necessary. No weight loss has been reported and blood work has remained normal.

That’s still fascinating, is it not? Why is that?

Why is what, Doctor?

What fuels him to continue the way he does?


I was brought to a place that I could only assume was their own little hideout. It was in the basement of an old library where XWF archives were kept. We entered through a door on the outside, not through the library above or its main entrance. A long stairwell took us down to a steel door where Dolly knocked three times and a little slider opened up like at the bar last night. Two angry, but soft eyes peered through and looked over the three of us. Dolly stretched up on her tippy toes and spoke to the eyes through the hole.

“He’s with me,” she said.

The door opened and I didn’t believe my eyes. In a single room, a little over a dozen people were around; congregating, watching television, playing pool, and studying maps of the town and city in what looks like a small recon area off to the side. It was a pretty laid back environment from what I saw.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” said Dolly to the bearded, long haired doorman as we passed. He says nothing and just gives me a Popeye’d-look.

I followed Dolly over to the little recon area I spoke of and took a seat around a large, circle table. The girl explained to me that the XWF has been broken up into different areas and I needed to be aware of what I was into going to each one. The first area, with the tower and the club, was simply the “XWF District”. That’s where HQ and most of the action went down, and where everyone paid the most attention.

Where I was now was Old XWF Town. It was mostly abandoned but contained the base of operations for two different groups that don’t have a place or just don’t belong within that deep city life. The first group was the kind people that just took me in. They appear to be led by this girl, who couldn’t be twenty years old, and seem short on food, followers, and general resources. West of the city had a dense forest and was where Duke’s castle was built, and south was the docks. Between the docks and Old XWF Town was an old abandoned amusement park called XWF Land.

I explained to Charlie and her who I was and why I was here. I don’t think Charlie was listening anyway, but Dolly was the first one who actually seemed at least a little concerned about the disappearance of her boss and leader of the XWF.

“How long has he been gone?” Dolly asked.

“I’m not sure -- A couple of days, I think.”

“Do you have any suspects?! Who do you think is behind it?!” She asked.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t exactly got anywhere with this investigation quite yet.”

“What are you waiting for?!” She said, throwing her fists on her hips.

“I haven’t exactly had the best of luck since I arrived here. My first lead kind of shot itself in the foot and the second threw me out of a moving car.”

“Yeah.. We should get you looked over, huh?”

Dolly sat me down on a couch and retrieved a small first aid kid and pulled out some bandages. The little medikit seemed limited, as well, I think more about how it’s a good thing I wasn’t all that banged up.

“So who are the others out there you mentioned here in Old XWF Town?” I asked.

She closed up the box after patching me up and placed it on the table in front of us.

“Well, there’s another group that Theo doesn’t really like roaming around the streets all of the time… But they get away with a lot more than we do.” She pauses. “Atara sings at the Scorched Earth and Betsy makes certain ‘arrangements’ for the other girls to…. Make ‘visits’ into the city for certain ‘jobs’... Ya know what I’m----”

“They’re whores!” Charlie yelled from across the room and Dolly smacked her forehead.

“Old XWF Town is owned by Big Money Ozzy… The Bob boss…” She said with her hand still rested on her brow.

“Yeah, we’ve met.” I cracked my neck. “He was the fine fella that threw me from the car last night. Well, his cronies were.”

“Oh! Lucky you! See, he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“I figured as much.”

Her enthusiasm and optimism seemed extended. Dolly continued.

“Betsy hates the fact that her turf is owned by someone else. She’s been working her way into the XWF police and deeper sanctum for a while now to get him out of the picture and take over XWF Old Town for herself.”

“How do all of you fit into the picture?” I asked.

“We don’t. That’s the thing. There’s no place for us here like there used to be and it’s only going to get worse now with Vinnie gone. We’ll do whatever we can to help you get him back, Mister.”

“Is there any kind of conflict between you and Betsy?”

“Not at all! Well, not for a while, anyway. We tend to keep our distance from each other. Except for Charlie….”

“Worst entrepreneurs I’ve ever seen!! They told me my money was no good, so I brought someone else’s and they still denied me services!” Charlie shouted again from across the room.

Dolly sat silent for a moment, half embarrassed from Charlie’s remarks in front of their guest, when she noticed something.

“Charlie? Where’s Jimmy?? And why is the door open?!?!”

Suddenly, there was a loud, deafening *POP*!!

The lights went out with the sound and the room instantly filled with smoke. There was indecipherable shouting over more shouting and I, without knowing my exits, I hit the floor and crawled to a wall. The smoke burned my eyes, but I was still able to find my way by feel and a little bit of sight. I could hear footsteps stomping and more people yelling… Looking back, I saw the folks that were staying here being forced outside one by one by what looked to be cops. Was this some kind of raid? What the hell was going on?

I wasn’t sticking around to find out. Staying low, I moved quickly until I found another door. I opened it and looked back one last time to see these cops setting fire to the furniture and walls of the place. Through the flames, I noticed the last man from the printed photographs had just entered the room and was staring straight at me. He smiled and removed his sunglasses as I turned and went through the doorway. When I slammed the door shut behind me, all of the shouting and screaming from the otherside was zipped out of existence. I found myself standing in a long corridor and it was pitch quiet. It’s like I’ve switched buildings or stepped through to somewhere completely different all together.



It didn’t take much for me to get what I wanted out of this, did it? Even after all of the belly-aching and mirroring, we weren’t only taken on a trip through the labyrinth, but we also got another glorious puppet-show courtesy of our Universal Champion! Maybe it’s the King in me, but I’ve always loved a good show, you know. In a few ways, I’ve come to find that I can relate to some of the crazy ramblings that you’ve been going on about. The things you’ve hidden and dabbed throughout your journeys and puppet displays. See, I’ve never fought for glory and gold, either. I’ve never fought for recognition or reputation. All of that just came along with it, didn’t it? I’ve fought for something greater than all of that, too, and that, my friends, is the FIGHT itself!

PFFT. Corny, right?

Go ahead and pick that apart all you like, like you’ve done every single other thing I’ve said, we’ll touch on this later through another secret door. I like seeing that fire of your’s once ablaze struggle to stay significant as you’re slowly backed into a corner. I’ll keep blowing on it for ya. I know it’s me and all that low hanging fruit that you’re running around like Pac Man on crack gobbling up. It’s hard to decipher if I’m even throwing any bait around because you literally scoop up every single thing I put out there and puke it back out into some version of what you want it to mean or say. I’ve explained myself already about what I said. About May Day, about War Games, about King Louie’s, and snakes. You can take as many things as you want out of context and make it look as contradicting as you like, but you're just regurgitating words. I love watching you pull out every single weapon you have to battle the one thing you know can finally stop you in your tracks. Is that becoming something too cliche to say? Well, darn me all over again… But that’s the idea isn’t it? It’d be stupid not to pull out every stop with so much at stake. Maybe I could think of a different way to word it without breaking any of my rules? Even the one about not tracking your missteps or calling you out on anything! So, just to be clear, since I said I wasn’t going to do that, it gave you the hall pass? If that’s the case, then keep doing it, I guess. I’ll try not to call you out on your BS from now on because that would be going back on my word.

WAIT A MINUTE!! Did I just call you out on something then tell you to keep doing it again?! Dawk some points off the old score card for that one…

This loopy loop does get old doesn’t it?

But this is what you do. You’re no climber, you just attach to someone climbing and take the ride up. You’re not an attacker. What bounces off of you sticks to me!. Every whisper uttered from my lips isn’t safe from you to tear to shreds. It backs up my point that you need someone there to give you what you need to go on. You need someone to feed you or else you’ll have absolutely nothing to bring to battle. I’ve had to set the ball up on the tee each time so you could swing, bash, crank, bang away in every direction anyway. Keep flaunting that mirror in my direction, but the entire world sees you digging so deep into your bag for anything that can be used against me.

Like your stupid book. I told you I didn’t want it anymore either. I’m chopping off your head, remember? You were going to run around like a chicken and still do the hand thing? So, what I’ve come to find out through all of this is that you throw some pretty weak hits. You just strike the same points over and over and over again until they bruise. You take my points, turn them around, and over exaggerate them. You take your points and if I have anything to say about them throw up a force field and fling everything I say right back. It’s a great strategy, to be honest. Anyone else would be in the fetal position in the corner right now crying away and sucking their thumb. Anyone else would be at a loss of words because the fuel they needed were their own words just spit out right back at them. Some people need that fuel, don’t they? They need to wait for someone to mess up or twist something around to make it look so and beat it to death until everyone's convinced its so amazing! Imagine being so unfocused that you don't see that I'm unfazed by this sticks and stones nonsense.

I now know that ever forward just means whatever direction you’re facing then. Fascinating. I thought there was more to it than that. So it can be forwards, backwards, up, down… Whichever direction we choose.

]]>
##The fire grows hotter
Our names will be screamed aloud
The story will change##


-Part Four-
“STICKS and STONES”


The Ex-Detective wakes up.

I woke up to the feeling of something prodding me in the stomach and even a few times in the cheek. Something sharp, but not so much as to puncture my clothes or my skin and it was hardly noticeable after I realized how bad my head was killing me.

I opened my eyes and saw it was now early morning. Again, I told you I sleep too much. This wasn’t so much a sleep though, more of a you’re thrown from a moving vehicle and smack your head off the road. Through my blurred vision I saw two silhouettes standing above me with obviously one of them doing the prodding.

“Do you think he’s dead?” I heard someone say. A girl.

“Maybe! If he is, I call his wallet!”

I recognized that voice. It sounded like--

“Oh Charlie… Hey, look! He’s moving!”

I sat up and smacked away the small stick that the girl was using to poke me with.

“He’s feral!” Said Charlie, pushing the girl in front of him.

“He ain’t no feral, Charlie. Look at ‘im! He’s hurt!”

I looked around and found myself on a back road across the river from the city. I could see it less than a quarter of a mile away, I guess I was lucky I gave Oswald the time of day or else I could have easily ended up in the bottom of that river.

“Hey, Mister? You okay?” Said the girl as she kneeled in front of me.

She looked confused at my face as if she might’ve recognized me, too.

“The name’s Dolly. Dolly Waters.”

“Ugh.” I managed to say.

“What are you standing around for Charlie? Help him up!”

The burley guy from the booth yesterday shuffled over, grabbed me by my arm, and forced me to my feet. I wobbled my head around trying to get the rest of my focus back.

“You okay, or what, Mister?” She’s prodded me..

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I finally mumbled out.

“What the hell happened to ya?” She prodded again.

“I, uh, just--” What are words?

I closed my eyes and rubbed my face. I couldn’t put a single thought together. Was I concussed? Was my brain bleeding? I could hear Charlie snickering outside of my darkness. I opened my eyes and saw him smiling and Dolly continuing to look confused at me.

“I saw him strolling up to the tower yesterday. I was gonna warn ya buddy, ya don’t wanna piss around with Theo. He’s kind of a dick.” Charlie mentioned.

“Yeah, sorry if I got you in any trouble.”

“Trouble? Me? PFFFFT! How so?”

“Pryce asked me if you were hanging around and called security to have you removed from the premises.”

“Ha! Little Feather couldn’t track a rainbow to a pot of liquor!” Charlie laughed.

“Charlie, I told you not to be hanging around there anymore. You know how much Theo hates it,” said Dolly with a disappointed tone. “Why do you go there?”

Charlie reached down his pants and pulled out a wad of cash and smiled.

“City-folk are pretty gullible!” He said as he shoved the wad back down and I’m pretty sure he winked at me, but I wasn’t looking his way.

“You look pretty beat up, Mister. Why don’t you head back with us and we’ll patch you up.”

“Head back where?” I mumbled again.

“Our home,” she said cheerfully before Charlie stepped in.

“Hey, how can we trust this guy? I don’t know if Theo dumped his ass out here or not. He could be working for him. We can’t bring anyone like that back with us.”

Dolly peered closely at me, narrowed her eyes, and looked me up and down.

“You working for Theo, Mister?”

“Trevor. You can call me, Trevor.”

“I’m gonna call you Trey,” Charlie interjected.

“But that’s not my name.”

“Sure it is! It’s short for Trevor! What’s the big deal, Trey?”

“You never answered the question, Mister,” interrupted Dolly.

“He might not be working FOR him, maybe he’s working WITH HIM!” Charlie held up an index finger in his found revelation.

“Which is it, Mister? Are you working WITH or FOR Theo?”

“Yeah, spit it out!”

“No, I’m not working for OR with Pryce!” I screamed.

Dolly and Charlie both took a step back and said, “Woah!”

“Chill pill, dude.” Dolly whispered.

“Yeah, until we get back to our neighborhood, it’s best we don’t attract any unwanted attention,” said Charlie.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” I take a step back myself. “ Look, I’ll come with you. Maybe you guys can help me figure out what I can do next.”


The Patient sits on his knees on the floor scribbling across several sheets of paper… Scratching portraits and long texts… Skipping from one sheet to another… He stops and mumbles some incoherent nothings then angrily tears one of the papers and tosses the shreds of paper into the air. He stands up and hurries across the room to a desk where more papers are scattered. He looks through the pile of them, frantically reading them one by one before tossing them aside. The Patient grabs the pencil from behind his ear and starts scribbling on another sheet of white paper. Within a few minutes he has his picture finished and rushes over to the wall where many other long sheets of texts and portraits hang.

[Image: rkq2bb3.png?1]

The Patient admires it for a few moments before taking a step back and admiring his wall. He lets out a long, dismissive sigh when he hears the lock to his door unlatch and the door swing open. Two armed orderlies enter the room and guard each side of the door followed by one other one carrying a tray of fruit. The Patient watches the orderly cross the room through the scattered papers on the floor like a bobcat watching a little bunny rabbit. The food is delivered to the table in the center of the room and the orderly turns around for the exit. He stops halfway and turns to the Patient.

You’d better tidy up some in here… You know how the Doctor hates walking into a mess….

The Patient puts his head down and allows the orderly to leave the room unscathed. The two armed ones follow him and shut the door behind them leaving him alone in his room with his scribblings and his fruit, which ends up flung, tray and all, against the door shortly after it is latched.



I went with Dolly and Charlie back to their end of town, which was actually Old XWF territory. The buildings were far more run down here than they were across the bridge, it was like a slum. The store rooms upstairs in old convenience shops were converted into apartments and those shops were used to advertise and pawn off whatever you could scavenge for whatever someone else could scavenge. Those that lived here truly lived off of themselves and it was very Old West-like, but made of concrete instead of sand.

I followed Dolly and Charlie through the dirty streets until they cut down an alleyway. I pulled my box of cigarettes out of my pocket and noticed I’m dangerously low with only a few left.

“You know where I could get more smokes?”

I chose not to ration one right now and tried lighting one up, but my lighter started failing me. I flicked it and flicked it, but only a spark.

“You gotta be shittin’ me…” I said and let my arms fall to my sides. I looked ever forward and noticed that my companions were gone.

“Hey! Charlie? Dolly? Where’d you go?”

I heard nothing in return and slowly continued down the alley. When I came to an intersection I stopped and looked and listened each way for a sign of either of them, but there was nothing. I had a decision to make now, I could go forward, left, or right… I was about to make the choice on my own and head right before I heard some light, girlish laughter coming from the left. My path was obvious for me, so I turned around and headed that way.

For what appeared to be the middle of the day, I wasn’t sure what time it was, things got awfully dark. The walls felt like they were creeping in closer and closer and, oddly enough, the garbage and debris lying around became less and less. The alley took a quick turn and the walls shortened my arm span little by little as I continued forward. I now have a roof over my head and a very limited, flickering light source above my head. I noticed the pavement at my feet had changed to a filthy, white ceramic floor. I heard the laughter again followed by some indecipherable whispers.

“What the fuck is this?” I muttered.

I could feel my heartbeat in my temples, my hands, my legs, my stomach… And the pain was starting to come back… A cold sweat began to come on; I started to stagger and bounced from one of the walls like I was drunk. I faced another corner and took the turn again, the adventure, again, choosing ever forward. Ahead of me was a long corridor, at the end an old wooden door with a bright glow surrounding the outer edges of it drew me closer. I approached it, feeling it’s own pulse in rhythm with my own in every step I took. When I finally got to the door and reached for the handle and--

“Hey, there you are!”

Dolly grabbed me by the wrist and the entire world around me flashed back to an open alleyway like the one I thought I left. The pain was gone like it was never there and with my other hand, I saw that I was holding a door handle for a rusted old door that hasn’t been opened in a long, long time. I looked back at her and took a couple of steps back to gather my bearings again.

“There’s nothing in there, you know.”

“Yeah, uh, I wasn’t.” I struggled to find the words again.

“Whatever. Follow me… And try to keep up this time!”


The Doctor stands in front of a TV monitor watching the Patient as he diligently continues his work inside his room..

Doctor…?

A voice from a different nurse enters the room. We’re not inside the Doctor’s office, we’re in an observation area where the Doctor has surveillance access of the Patient.

Yes?

The Doctor about-faces and smiles at her as she approaches him carrying a clipboard.

I have the end of day reports for you.

He smiles and claps his hands together.

Oh, perfect! Please, please!

The Doctor motions for the nurse to read from the clipboard.

Uh… uh.. The Patient has shown an increase in verbal and physical aggression over the past several days. Patient continues to suffer from sadness, anxiety, sleep deprivation, delusions, hallucinations, and self-defecation.

Oh, do we need to hire a nanny to change him now, as well?

The nurse continues to uncomfortably read the report.

The Patient continues to require paper and a utensil to write with. The Patient is content when they are allowed to draw or write. The Patient does not eat and drinks only when necessary. No weight loss has been reported and blood work has remained normal.

That’s still fascinating, is it not? Why is that?

Why is what, Doctor?

What fuels him to continue the way he does?


I was brought to a place that I could only assume was their own little hideout. It was in the basement of an old library where XWF archives were kept. We entered through a door on the outside, not through the library above or its main entrance. A long stairwell took us down to a steel door where Dolly knocked three times and a little slider opened up like at the bar last night. Two angry, but soft eyes peered through and looked over the three of us. Dolly stretched up on her tippy toes and spoke to the eyes through the hole.

“He’s with me,” she said.

The door opened and I didn’t believe my eyes. In a single room, a little over a dozen people were around; congregating, watching television, playing pool, and studying maps of the town and city in what looks like a small recon area off to the side. It was a pretty laid back environment from what I saw.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” said Dolly to the bearded, long haired doorman as we passed. He says nothing and just gives me a Popeye’d-look.

I followed Dolly over to the little recon area I spoke of and took a seat around a large, circle table. The girl explained to me that the XWF has been broken up into different areas and I needed to be aware of what I was into going to each one. The first area, with the tower and the club, was simply the “XWF District”. That’s where HQ and most of the action went down, and where everyone paid the most attention.

Where I was now was Old XWF Town. It was mostly abandoned but contained the base of operations for two different groups that don’t have a place or just don’t belong within that deep city life. The first group was the kind people that just took me in. They appear to be led by this girl, who couldn’t be twenty years old, and seem short on food, followers, and general resources. West of the city had a dense forest and was where Duke’s castle was built, and south was the docks. Between the docks and Old XWF Town was an old abandoned amusement park called XWF Land.

I explained to Charlie and her who I was and why I was here. I don’t think Charlie was listening anyway, but Dolly was the first one who actually seemed at least a little concerned about the disappearance of her boss and leader of the XWF.

“How long has he been gone?” Dolly asked.

“I’m not sure -- A couple of days, I think.”

“Do you have any suspects?! Who do you think is behind it?!” She asked.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t exactly got anywhere with this investigation quite yet.”

“What are you waiting for?!” She said, throwing her fists on her hips.

“I haven’t exactly had the best of luck since I arrived here. My first lead kind of shot itself in the foot and the second threw me out of a moving car.”

“Yeah.. We should get you looked over, huh?”

Dolly sat me down on a couch and retrieved a small first aid kid and pulled out some bandages. The little medikit seemed limited, as well, I think more about how it’s a good thing I wasn’t all that banged up.

“So who are the others out there you mentioned here in Old XWF Town?” I asked.

She closed up the box after patching me up and placed it on the table in front of us.

“Well, there’s another group that Theo doesn’t really like roaming around the streets all of the time… But they get away with a lot more than we do.” She pauses. “Atara sings at the Scorched Earth and Betsy makes certain ‘arrangements’ for the other girls to…. Make ‘visits’ into the city for certain ‘jobs’... Ya know what I’m----”

“They’re whores!” Charlie yelled from across the room and Dolly smacked her forehead.

“Old XWF Town is owned by Big Money Ozzy… The Bob boss…” She said with her hand still rested on her brow.

“Yeah, we’ve met.” I cracked my neck. “He was the fine fella that threw me from the car last night. Well, his cronies were.”

“Oh! Lucky you! See, he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“I figured as much.”

Her enthusiasm and optimism seemed extended. Dolly continued.

“Betsy hates the fact that her turf is owned by someone else. She’s been working her way into the XWF police and deeper sanctum for a while now to get him out of the picture and take over XWF Old Town for herself.”

“How do all of you fit into the picture?” I asked.

“We don’t. That’s the thing. There’s no place for us here like there used to be and it’s only going to get worse now with Vinnie gone. We’ll do whatever we can to help you get him back, Mister.”

“Is there any kind of conflict between you and Betsy?”

“Not at all! Well, not for a while, anyway. We tend to keep our distance from each other. Except for Charlie….”

“Worst entrepreneurs I’ve ever seen!! They told me my money was no good, so I brought someone else’s and they still denied me services!” Charlie shouted again from across the room.

Dolly sat silent for a moment, half embarrassed from Charlie’s remarks in front of their guest, when she noticed something.

“Charlie? Where’s Jimmy?? And why is the door open?!?!”

Suddenly, there was a loud, deafening *POP*!!

The lights went out with the sound and the room instantly filled with smoke. There was indecipherable shouting over more shouting and I, without knowing my exits, I hit the floor and crawled to a wall. The smoke burned my eyes, but I was still able to find my way by feel and a little bit of sight. I could hear footsteps stomping and more people yelling… Looking back, I saw the folks that were staying here being forced outside one by one by what looked to be cops. Was this some kind of raid? What the hell was going on?

I wasn’t sticking around to find out. Staying low, I moved quickly until I found another door. I opened it and looked back one last time to see these cops setting fire to the furniture and walls of the place. Through the flames, I noticed the last man from the printed photographs had just entered the room and was staring straight at me. He smiled and removed his sunglasses as I turned and went through the doorway. When I slammed the door shut behind me, all of the shouting and screaming from the otherside was zipped out of existence. I found myself standing in a long corridor and it was pitch quiet. It’s like I’ve switched buildings or stepped through to somewhere completely different all together.



It didn’t take much for me to get what I wanted out of this, did it? Even after all of the belly-aching and mirroring, we weren’t only taken on a trip through the labyrinth, but we also got another glorious puppet-show courtesy of our Universal Champion! Maybe it’s the King in me, but I’ve always loved a good show, you know. In a few ways, I’ve come to find that I can relate to some of the crazy ramblings that you’ve been going on about. The things you’ve hidden and dabbed throughout your journeys and puppet displays. See, I’ve never fought for glory and gold, either. I’ve never fought for recognition or reputation. All of that just came along with it, didn’t it? I’ve fought for something greater than all of that, too, and that, my friends, is the FIGHT itself!

PFFT. Corny, right?

Go ahead and pick that apart all you like, like you’ve done every single other thing I’ve said, we’ll touch on this later through another secret door. I like seeing that fire of your’s once ablaze struggle to stay significant as you’re slowly backed into a corner. I’ll keep blowing on it for ya. I know it’s me and all that low hanging fruit that you’re running around like Pac Man on crack gobbling up. It’s hard to decipher if I’m even throwing any bait around because you literally scoop up every single thing I put out there and puke it back out into some version of what you want it to mean or say. I’ve explained myself already about what I said. About May Day, about War Games, about King Louie’s, and snakes. You can take as many things as you want out of context and make it look as contradicting as you like, but you're just regurgitating words. I love watching you pull out every single weapon you have to battle the one thing you know can finally stop you in your tracks. Is that becoming something too cliche to say? Well, darn me all over again… But that’s the idea isn’t it? It’d be stupid not to pull out every stop with so much at stake. Maybe I could think of a different way to word it without breaking any of my rules? Even the one about not tracking your missteps or calling you out on anything! So, just to be clear, since I said I wasn’t going to do that, it gave you the hall pass? If that’s the case, then keep doing it, I guess. I’ll try not to call you out on your BS from now on because that would be going back on my word.

WAIT A MINUTE!! Did I just call you out on something then tell you to keep doing it again?! Dawk some points off the old score card for that one…

This loopy loop does get old doesn’t it?

But this is what you do. You’re no climber, you just attach to someone climbing and take the ride up. You’re not an attacker. What bounces off of you sticks to me!. Every whisper uttered from my lips isn’t safe from you to tear to shreds. It backs up my point that you need someone there to give you what you need to go on. You need someone to feed you or else you’ll have absolutely nothing to bring to battle. I’ve had to set the ball up on the tee each time so you could swing, bash, crank, bang away in every direction anyway. Keep flaunting that mirror in my direction, but the entire world sees you digging so deep into your bag for anything that can be used against me.

Like your stupid book. I told you I didn’t want it anymore either. I’m chopping off your head, remember? You were going to run around like a chicken and still do the hand thing? So, what I’ve come to find out through all of this is that you throw some pretty weak hits. You just strike the same points over and over and over again until they bruise. You take my points, turn them around, and over exaggerate them. You take your points and if I have anything to say about them throw up a force field and fling everything I say right back. It’s a great strategy, to be honest. Anyone else would be in the fetal position in the corner right now crying away and sucking their thumb. Anyone else would be at a loss of words because the fuel they needed were their own words just spit out right back at them. Some people need that fuel, don’t they? They need to wait for someone to mess up or twist something around to make it look so and beat it to death until everyone's convinced its so amazing! Imagine being so unfocused that you don't see that I'm unfazed by this sticks and stones nonsense.

I now know that ever forward just means whatever direction you’re facing then. Fascinating. I thought there was more to it than that. So it can be forwards, backwards, up, down… Whichever direction we choose.

]]> <![CDATA[The Alias Saga #6: A Long, Slow Goodbye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41939 Thu, 23 Sep 2021 20:22:34 -0700 ALIAS]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41939 6A: The Haunted Chronicles of Doctor Louis D’Ville’s Better


OPENING CREDITS:



##Accused of a crime
The bright sun winked to the moon
“Inspired by you”##


- Part Six -

“A LONG, SLOW GOODBYE”




The Ex, Present, and Future wakes up.

A loud shout snapped me awake. I groaned, rolling to the edge of my bed, and looked across to the nightstand. The alarm clock blinked back at me with four zeroes. On the sight of it, I jerked my head up and looked around the room. Adjusting to the dark, I saw fraying curtains hanging over the solitary window, but they were too thick to get a gauge on how the day looked on the other side. I reached across the bedside table to where my phone hung half over the edge, attached to a stretched charging cable. I fumbled with the cord. With one hand I managed to unhook it and I managed to catch it before it slipped over the edge. I brought it in front of my face, and squinted through barely-awake eyes as I pushed the button on the side. The backlight lit up and showed me the real time. Five-oh-six in the morning. It was a little earlier than I had intended, but I suppose it could have been worse. It had been a restless night, so at least I got a little bit of sleep. That was a small victory.

I heard another shout coming from outside the door. My body creaked as I pulled myself over the edge of the bed. My feet hit the paper-thin carpet, feeling the cold rising up from the solid concrete underneath. I pushed myself to my feet and staggered my way across the room to the paint-chipped door. I tugged at its handle. It opened slightly, but a jolt shot up my arm as the security chain caught the door and my hand slipped. Grumbling to myself, I shut the door again and slid the chain off its latch, before trying again. I poked my head outside.

It was still dark out. The sun had yet to rise above the North Carolina treeline, though a faint light suggested it wasn’t far away. Silhouettes of birds rose up from the woods at the thought of it. As another shout ricocheted between the slats of a wooden fence and the long motel wall that I poked my head out of, I turned my head towards the sound. Four or five doors down, a man stood outside another room shouting obscenities. An indecipherable shrieking voice replied from the other side of the door. On the man’s end, stabbing fingers pointed accusingly at the window from his leather jacketed-arms. I was quickly joined by several other guests checking in on the commotion.

“What the fuck are you all looking at?!” the man shouted, turning his attention to the rest of us.

He flicked a cigarette from his mouth onto the ground, as the other heads withdrew. A little groggy still, it took me a moment to react. That’s when I noticed him staring directly at me. Against the pale of his bald head, his eyes seemed even blacker.

“You got a fucking problem, junkie?”

“Huh?” I replied, still needing some time to process things. “I was, uh… sleeping.”

“Well then pop another needle and get the fuck back to bed!”

“It’s hard. You’re a bit on the loud side.”

“What the fuck did you say?!”

That hit a nerve. The man stamped towards me with a silence in his walk that drew a few of the rabbits back out from their warrens. He stopped close, without a care in the world for my personal space. By now, the bitterness of the morning had found its way into my bones. Forcibly, it shook me back to myself. If it hadn’t, I’m sure the stale bourbon on the man’s breath would have. I tried to hold my head to the side, so that I could avoid the worst of it. With each move, however, his head followed. He tried to tower over me, but as I grew more alert, I rose with him. Matching his height, I saw a moment of concern pass through his eyes, before the liquor took over once more.

“I asked you a fucking question!” With an open hand, he shoved me in my shoulder. I took half a step back, before squaring to him once again.

“I said that you’re a bit on the loud side,” I say.

“Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“I mean… you kind of did actually.”


“You’ve got a fucking death wish, don’t you?”

He reached into his coat, and I saw the blade glimmer before it was in his hand. It never found its way to me. A short burst from a siren announced the arrival of a black and blue police car. The town’s name, ‘BOONE’ was written on the side above the back wheel. It’s engine chugged to a halt, and the officer was met by a portly man emerging from underneath a door marked ‘RECEPTION’. He pointed in our direction, and the man promptly put the knife away.

“Is there a problem here?” the policeman asked as he approached us.

“No, no problem!” the man said. The officer looked at me expectantly.

“He has a knife. And he woke everyone up.”

The bald man stared daggers at me. I didn’t care.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to leave.”

The officer gestured towards the opening to the driveway that he had just driven into. I stood firmly in my doorway, eyeing the officer’s other hand as it moved towards the handle of a holstered gun. Grunting, the bald man reluctantly obliged, spitting at the cop’s vehicle on his way out. I followed him with my eyes until he was completely out of view.

“Are you okay, sir?” The officer asked me.

“I need a damn smoke.”

On a small round table in the corner of the motel room, I had left a small pouch of tobacco and a pack of papers. Leaving the policeman at the doorstep, I made my way back over to it, and set to rolling myself a cigarette. Taking the final product back outside to the dull grey of the early morning, I struck a matchstick and lit the fuse. Satisfied with my first hit, I let the match fall to the pavement. There wasn’t much in the way of fuel to keep it going, but I crushed it under my heel anyway. I drew a long, comforting drag, and breathed smoke out into the air. Through its haze, I watched the officer again consulting with the portly man, whom I assumed to be the motel manager. If you asked me, he was far too animated for this time of the day. The officer took it all in stride. Somewhere along the way, as I puffed on my sweet release, the two men’s attention turned back towards me. The manager was ushered inside, and the officer came back towards me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Better now,” I said from behind another deep inhale.

“The manager said you came in late last night. He thought you looked suspicious. I tend to agree. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“It’s a free country, ain’t it?”

He pulled out a small notepad and a black ballpoint pen.

“What’s your name?”

“Depends who’s asking.” My answer drew a leer from underneath the peak of his cap, and he scribbled on his pad.

“Where’d you come from?”

“Around.”

“Where are you going?”

“Seven Devils.”

He looked up at me from the pad again, a look of consternation on his face. I blew smoke up over his head.

“Seven Devils, you say?”

“Uh huh.”

“Ain’t nothing but bad news there.”

“By the looks of it, nothing but bad news here either.”

My eyes trailed off towards the driveway again. Pursing his lips, the police officer placed his pen on his notepad, tucking it under his thumb. I had seen that sort of look before. It asked ‘what am I going to do with you?’ without the need to open his mouth.

“When are you leaving?” he asks.

“Today.”

“Manager wants you out as soon as possible.”

“I’ll leave when I’ve sorted myself a ride.”

“To Seven Devils?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s about a half-hour drive. I can take you out there. But it’s a one way trip, you hear?”

“Works for me. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“You have five.”

Through the billowing smoke, I eyed him warily. He returned the gaze. Nodding, I dropped my cigarette next to the matchstick, snuffed the flame, and without any more fuss, I set about gathering my belongings.

It was time for me to get some answers.



KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Hello, in there! Are you feeling okay?

The nurse’s cheek presses against the small square window to the tiny, little room as she peers in, checking for safety. The kitchen sink had already been taken out of the room, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think there was only one risk. It was probably not even the most dangerous. Within, the Patient sits calmly, cross-legged in the center. All around him, fine padding covers surfaces from ceiling to floor, inclusive.

You can come in.

He doesn’t even look up. The door opens without a sound, pulling outward so as not to disturb the protective covers. The nurse shuts the door behind her, and unsteadily finds her feet on the mattresses, holding out an arm to gain her balance. In the hand attached to the end was a small tote bag.

Have you been drawing again?

Huh? Oh… yeah…

He pulls his attention away from reruns of XWF Saturday Night Impact on the television set that somehow makes sense to be in a padded room. That’s dangerous in its own right, especially as he himself comes on screen. The real him. The actual real him that sits in the room. Don’t read so much into it. A pencil - also a sensible thing for this setting, dull or not - rolls off the edge of a piece of paper as he hands it up to the nurse who examines it.

[Image: uJdDVqD.jpg]


Where’d you get the red from? Are you okay?

Yeah, I’m fine. It just kind of appeared while I was drawing.

The nurse hands it back to the Patient, who haphazardly slides it to the side. She looks around the room.

What happened to the other drawings?

What do you mean?

Didn’t you have more? It was… messier.

It’s all in that one. It always was. Are you, uh… are you remembering things differently?

For a moment she doubts herself. She doubts what the Doctor had told her. Then she remembers the bag.

The doctor said to give you some more fruit.

The Patient takes a bite out of an offered apple, not even thinking before he Eats. The questions come after.

Do you know how far up on the tree this was growing?

Uh… I don’t know. The bottom?

Shit. I suppose that’ll have to do. Good fruit is good fruit, you’d be have to be crazy to turn it down!

He takes another bite, juices dripping down his chin.

Did the Doctor say anything else?

He was just checking in on your condition.

And?

More of the same.

Huh, I would have thought he’d have tried to stop the tide by now. Not a very good doctor is he? Does he have a diagnosis yet?

I’m afraid not.

No matter. I’m sure he’s doing his best. One day, maybe he will actually catch up. I just worry that it’ll all be too late.

The nurse stammers over her words. There’s a genuine concern in her voice when she continues.

For… for what?

For the end.

Do you… do you have a plan?

What?!

A look of shock crosses the Patient’s face.

No! Not THAT end!

The nurse lets out an audible sigh. As the Patient takes another bite of the apple, he chucks it, partially-eaten, back into the bag. I’m sure that’ll be relevant later.

Just let him know when you see him next that I’m still waiting. My door is always open. From the outside anyway.

With a nod from the nurse, the Patient knows she has understood him.

I’d like to be alone now.

Of course.

Smiling sweetly, she makes her way back across the cushioned floor. The door closes effortlessly behind her, and he hears her latch it up. One. Two. Three. Her footsteps clop their way down a long and beaten-to-death corridor, and as they fade out of earshot, he draws in a deep breath.

How long has it been? Seven years? Ten years? Who knows? Maybe the Doctor got his files mixed up. That’s okay, though. I’ll help him remember. I’ll help him understand better than he ever thought he could.

He leans back onto the mattress flooring. Little granules of dirt start dripping their way into the room from the walls and ceiling. The entire space tumbles and turns and soon he finds himself laying on the top of the grandest mountain in existence. He gets to his feet and takes a stretch, looking down upon his kingdom.

Louey, Louey, Louey…

He speaks into the air, THREE TIMES, as if he expected a response.

Huh… nothing. I guess the rules don’t work.

Rules?

What rules?


’Lou’ Said:It’s not going to be like the pissing contest you just had. I’m not going to attempt to exploit your few missteps or try and get you to say something contradicting.


That rule, for starters. In context, that’s really the only way you could have understood it too. It makes a ton of sense when you…

’Lou’ Said:Stop reading so much into what I say. Or read better? I don’t know what happened there.

I think you got a little lost in the metaphors, man. It’s okay, it happens to the best of us. ‘You, a snake, …’ You can see how that could be misinterpreted, right? For example, if I said ‘you, a cunt, are getting a little hard of hearing these days’, it’d be perfectly understandable. I’d say something snide about fruit again, maybe even give an ‘OM NOM NOM’, but I don’t even mean that to be an old person’s joke. Rather, I just mean to say that your head is wedged so firmly up your ass that you're being a little selective with what you're picking up on. I guess I still got cute with it anyway. Oh well. Lucky I'm not the one prattling on about how my foe isn't focused in Relentless because he's mentioning other things, while simultaneously doing the same thing. What's that? You're just replying to me? Let me see what I can do about getting you a fucking mirror.

Look, I’ll put my hand up and say that I see now how you were just making a list. I misinterpreted you on that one. I understand how I wound up in that position - you are threatening me with harm, after all, it’s natural to assume the worst. Using names could’ve helped on your end too - since apparently that’s a thing between us now. Corey’s I have heard from your piss-sipper before, but never mine.

Power, amirite?

None of that is a good excuse though. I’ll even go as far as to say sorry, for whatever that’s worth. I don’t expect the same from you on the whole ‘rules’ front. You didn’t explicitly say that’s what it was, I just put two and two together because you kept telling me that you’re being perfectly straight with me. Was I wrong to do so? Are you being less than one-hundred? This is an ‘honest exchange’ after all. You know me going down that route was just a call back to last time, don’t you? Sorry if I’m Patient-splaining, but I’m a bit lost on whether I need to spell this shit out for you or not. I know how metaphors aren’t really your thing, but then they also are, but then they only are when you inspire me, but then they aren’t again. What? Maybe if you got off the fucking fence then I'd get off your fucking lawn.

OM NOM NOM.

Tee-hee!

Sorry not sorry for the trashy swearsies. Must've gotten a little something on my book when you threw it in the bin. Or did you not do that? You've fucking said both. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. Maybe you're not saying anything at all. Walk it back, and yeah, white it out. Make a quip about how I can call you whatever I like, but then strongly suggest that there’s something wrong with me for doing so. Talk about something but then say that very thing doesn’t matter. Such focus that you’ve got going on there, pal. Swear that you’re not playing by the Chris Page playbook, while playing by Chris Page playbook, that you said you weren’t going to play by. Bold call. But hey, we’re not supposed to talk about him, are we? Or Corey, or Chaos. Because scolding me for that is totally not playing a damn near identical card as him, right? It’s almost like you talk about what others did against me, and expect me not to be able to respond. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Ockham’s razor - listen I wouldn’t have to keep saying it. Oh look, a few seconds have passed, now it must be fine to talk about other people! But then it’s not. Stop. Start. Turn around. Touch your toes. Simon says. Childish effin’ games. Doctor Atty.

Oops, I did it again!

Blah blah blah AtaraCorey blah blah blah.

Dodge, dip, duck, dive, and dodge.

Repetition.

But yeah, I’m not focused on Relentless, right? Nah, I’m over here running comparisons of how you line up to what I’ve done before but, but that’s not being focused in the Doctor’s office! The mere mention of someone else is a big no-no! But then it isn’t, and I can talk about who I want. Rinse and fucking repeat.

Fuck, man, imagine how unfocused I’d be if I didn’t even appear in two-thirds of my own shit? The hypo-clit just peeked out from under its hood! Don’t worry, I’m a good Eater. I’ll just fry it up on the fucking stove. What’s that? It’s hot and I shouldn’t touch it? Bitch I tried to touch it with your face. Corey stopped me. Oh no! May Day! Oh no! Talking about my friend! Lou can say he learned something from his past, but it’s TOTALLY not relevant for me to bring it up. Funny how that works when you’re on a particular side of the equation, isn’t it? White it out. Don’t address it. Makes it easier to pretend things have changed without anyone looking into it a little deeper. But you’re definitely not making excuses. Except for the excuses that you had already made. Hiss hiss, push push. Read into that what you will.

But you’re different now! You know better! Ninety wins, ladies and gents! It was important enough to mention, but yet… nope! The past still doesn’t matter! Only when you mention it, eh? Or is this all just a ‘waste of words’? Better talk about how Corey would definitely cash in on you, but then say we still shouldn’t talk about him! Righty-o. Good thing you’re not dwelling on it while you’re absolutely dwelling on it. Pointing something out but still banging on about it seems like something we have in common, Lou. I left half an apple in a bag for you.

Are you getting the picture, yet? Can you hear me up there in your asshole, or are you just seeing this as the child throwing a tantrum? You drew a line in the sand, said you wouldn’t cross it, continue to try to degenerate me for doing so, but then you dance from one side to another and act like this is about me trying to control the narrative. Tell us again how you learned from your errors but don’t show us any fucking evidence. We just need to take that on faith! But I’ve got the problem, yeah? You’re trying to lead me forward, and I just can’t stand it. Firstly, if you were doing the leading, should I be happy about that? Should anyone? I mean, aside from your Bobbies and Thunders and Jess’s and Oswalds and Chrises and co.

Oh noez! Other people’s names!

Thank God nobody criticised someone for that at the same time that those names are appearing in your shit.

Touch the stove!!!

Secondly, this isn't even fucking uniqe. I don’t mean that in the sense of me saying that you’re pulling a Page, or you saying that I’m pulling a Chaos - remind me who brought him up to begin with, again?

White-out.

No, I just mean that literally every one of us tries to control our narrative, Lou. We’re all out here thrusting out our chests and banging our war drums saying that it’s our story that will triumph. I uh… I thought that you’d know that by now. I’d have thought that you would have learned that. Instead you’re busy setting a bar for me to clear when we’re not even doing the fucking high jump. I guess what I’m saying is, YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I don’t like others trying to impose their will upon me. But that’s nothing new. It’s kind of been a defining trait of mine, and like the name thing, this isn’t unique to you. Sorry to break your heart on that. To be fair, you’d have already known that if you just read the fucking book already.

Oh, Lord…

It really would save us a lot of time. It’s pretty clear in it that I never said we couldn’t look back on the past, Lou. I just said the answers for you are not there. You’re trying to be what you were. You admitted as much yourself, even though your choice of actions ever since are more or less the same. Me? My past tells you what I am. Am I fucked up on time again, or are those two vastly different things?

You know what I am though, Lou. I’m the guy you had to shut the fucking doors for. I’m the guy who forced you to Eat-Pray-Love this shit and try to find the real you. As far as you’re concerned…

I’m the fucking mountain.

The Patient looks down over the edge at the many trying to climb below. He spits a thick loogie over the side, and waits to hear a splat. ‘Cause he’s a fucking child. It’s a long wait for the impact though. The mountain is HUGE!

And you’re climbing. My oh my, how that narrative has changed, hasn’t it? It’s okay. I forgive you. You’ve got to put words in my mouth to try and spin your tale. Chase? Race? Never said either. Climb? Fight? That’s much more my speed. But I do the same, don’t I? You didn’t say I wanted to ‘be’ you, just that you ‘inspired’ me. There goes the good Doctor again. X but not X. Y but not Y. Back pedal. U-turn. Deny! Deny! Deny! Easy to play it cool when you have that built-in back door of mere suggestion.

Back-door.

You forgot to take your fucking head out of it.

If the glove fits, you’re full of shit.

No excuses. Good one. You certainly implied you weren’t at your best though. Fuck outta here with that ‘reading too much into it’ bullshit. That game was fun for a hot minute, but the cat’s out of the fucking bag, Lou! And with how many times you’ve said something to only turn around and say it doesn’t matter, you’re just growing more and more exposed. On my end, I’mma read the tea leaves exactly as I see them, and right now they’re spelling L-O-U-I-S-M-Y-B-I-T-C-H. Weird tea, to be fair, but you flat out fucking said that you hadn’t been yourself. Yes you fell, and yes you admitted to it, but it doesn’t take a hop, skip, and a jump to get to the reason why you think that was. Especially since you think ‘O.G. Doc’ is going to right the ship. As in, not The King. Nor The Thing. LIKE YOU DAMN WELL SAID, YOU PERFORATED FUCKSTICK. Jesus face-fucking Christ, and I thought I was the one looking too much into things?

Save the denials. The implication was pretty fucking strong, boo, and yes that’s exactly how I’m going to interpret it. I know you’re fucking schtick ny now. I’ve pistol-whipped you twice already. You try to say things without saying them, and let people hang themselves with their own rope. That, Lou, is the only way to read into any of this from you, because otherwise you wouldn’t be giving yourself so many fucking outs. All you’d need is ‘I will win! Ha! Ha!’; end fucking rant. It’s not a ‘bad’ thing, though, buddy. It’s you, and I can appreciate that. But it’s the same fucking trick you pulled last time, and now it’s just that much more out in the open.

Oh shit, there I went talking about the past again. It’s not like it’s in context of pointing out the bullshit of present you or anything. Nah, ignore that. White it out and throw your fucking toys while saying you’re not throwing your toys.

Childish ‘effin games.

What’s a guy to do anyway, Lou, when I give you a whole damn novella and you keep insisting on tossing it out? Or are you reading it and trying to catch up? What? Man, if you flipped through pages like you’re flipping through responses to it, then we could probably save each other a lot of time. I’d love to leave it all behind, but you’re out here trying to tell me you’ve learned something when you haven’t even gotten to the end yet!

*POOF!*

Sorry I'm late.

That’s okay, I think he forgot you were even coming. I saw a shining girl on the mountaintop somewhere around here that I think you can go and join.

Thanks.

No problemo!

*POOF!*

You piqued my interest with one thing you said though, my man. You think that you’ve got something more to fight for than I do. Now that is an interesting thought! Something more than…

The Universe. Everything.


Crazier things have happened. I wonder though… what could it be?

…

…

…

Oh, nothing? Sounds pretty similar to what you’ve learned, then. Such a shame. You know when you put forward a proposition, you’re usually supposed to provide supporting evidence, right? Like, I don’t know, from objective observations such as, say… similar situations that occurred in the past. I thought you were supposed to be a doctor?! They really should have taught you that sort of critical thinking at school.

Unless… wait! No! It couldn’t be! Except… have you been implying what you’ve learned this whole time? Have you been implying what’s more than Everything?

Nah, you wouldn’t do that, would ya?

Guess I’ll just keep holding things over your head then!

I’m going to get another thing to hold, Lou. I’m going to fucking do it again. I’m the D’Ville’s bane. The Anti-Doc Equation. And yes, I’m confident. Yes, I’m arrogant. But I know exactly the kind of fight that I’m in for. You say you do too. That’s… respectful? In a way? But if you’re going to get all hung up on thinking I’m not ready because I, what... use the world around me as reference points? That’s a pretty weird thing to have an issue with. And if you’re stuck on that, then I don’t think you really do know what’s coming. It’s like this is Frankenstein vs. Count Dracula: the doctor forgot his fucking monster.

One way or another, we’re getting closer to the end. I’m not mocking that, Lou. I am deathly fucking serious about it. But if you don’t want to seize the fucking day, I’ll just have to do it myself.

There is an end coming. I’m just a cunt’s hair away from it.

It’s just not the end you’re thinking of. Surviving, indeed.



The drive out to the township was much the same as the conversation that had preceded it. He asked, and I answered. There wasn’t much need for an extended back-and-forth; neither of us had any intention of seeing the other again before we were done with this life. It gave me time to take a rare second and admire the scenery. More than once I’d been told that I had my head up in the clouds. That I was a dreamer. Given my sleeping patterns, I’d say they weren’t wrong. It was still a nice reprieve to be able to take in the mountain vistas as the road wove amongst the peaks and valleys.

The serenity weighed on me as we pulled up to my destination. Exiting the car without as much of a ‘thank you’ to the officer, the car pulled away just as abruptly. As eager as he was to get me out of Boone, I sensed the cop was just as eager to get away from here. I looked ahead through the dim early-morning light at a low, gentle hill that rose in front of me. It was dotted with wooden cabins, branching off of a snaking gravel path that wound its way up the hill towards the still-grey sky. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew while looking at it that the serenity was only surface deep. Something didn’t feel right about any of this.

I lit up a cigarette to help me fight against the cold, and I took my first step onto the beaten track. The township itself was remote enough, but this commune seemed to be tucked away even further from any prying eyes. A secret. My arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed either. Without checking my phone, I estimated it to be nearing six o’clock by now. Even at this time, there were signs of life stirring amongst the conifers and pines. A lean, beanstalk of a man caught my eye, as he took up a position leaning on a tree. He was promptly joined by a waif of a girl, with a thick black mess atop her head. Despite the gloom and the distance, I still caught a glint in their eye that chilled me to my core.

More residents made themselves known as I trekked my way up the path. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked at their spying eyes, and each body arranged themselves closer to the direction that I was moving in. This fast felt like it was becoming a confrontation. It didn’t take long until I was proven right. A hulking frame quite unlike the man from the motel, stepped in front of my path. With his chestnut-brown hair tied roughly behind his neck, he actually dwarfed me.

“I’m not here for a fight.”

I’m not even sure he heard me. He looked at me from behind eyes that flared to life with an otherworldly orange. Two others stepped beside him, a woman whose eyes glowed a brilliant green and a smaller, more athletic man glaring from behind a haunting yellow.

“Easy. We don’t have to do this.”

None of the three replied. The brute in front’s face began to contort, and his mouth began to snarl.

The curdling howl of a wolf drew all of our attention. The giant man turned so he could view behind him. Trotting down the path was a mass of black fur and ferocity. The brute’s back-up made a path, as the gigantic beast confidently strode up to greet me. If I had all the riches in the world, I would never have guessed that the wolf would have licked my hand next, but that’s exactly what it did. I gave it a scratch behind the ears, and out of the corners of my eyes I saw my adversaries relax. The wolf let out a muted yap, and it turned around and took several steps back up the path. Turning its neck back to where I stood, it begged me to follow. I obliged.

We made our way, beyond the trees and out of sight of the room, unmolested by the people who still continued to congregate on the fringes. In the centre of a small circle of cabin houses, a larger communal cottage stood as a focal point. It was there that the wolf was leading me. It bound its way onto the rickety porch, stopping short of the door while it waited for me. Discarding the cigarette onto the path, I stepped on it as I joined the wolf outside the door. The beast began pawing at it.

“That you, Fenrir?” croaked a voice from the other side.

The wolf, Fenrir, let out a responsive bark. From the other side of the door, I heard some plodding footsteps. The timber door swung open, and I was confronted by a face I had seen a thousand times before. He called himself Marf, and aside from the occasional snide remark, somehow the rest of us just took that name at face value. As would seem the norm today, he made sure to square his shoulders back and lift his head up high. Like the fellow down the path, he did stand taller than me, but even so, I wasn’t worried. I had danced this dance before. He looked down at the dog.

“You’ve got to stop bringing home roadkill, Fenrir. You know mama doesn’t like the smell.”

The dog whimpers an apology, and Marf forgives it with a rub along the back. This rugged, roughshod man looks up at me through dead eyes.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“But I did anyway.”

“So what brings you here? A creepy vision or a mysterious destiny?”

“Something along the lines of both.”

“Figures. First Betsy, now you.”

He’s referring to Betsy Granger. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a penchant for intergalactic travel. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye at first. Heck, we hadn’t even spoken much in a while, each caught up in our own little words, but I’d consider her a friend today nonetheless. I had heard that she had arrived on the doorstep of this same little village, seeking answers of her own. Seems to be something in the water in Seven Devils. I could tell by the tone of Marf’s voice that he wasn’t thrilled by these recent developments. Just like I had, Betsy had also experienced her fair share of troubles with Marf and his other half. Yet in less than two weeks, we had both turned up here on the doorstep.

“She here?”

“Betsy? No. Her and Lycana got back from fuck knows where last night.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Allegedly.”

It would have been nice to have her here. Even if Marf wasn’t fully on board, Betsy seemed to have at least earned a right to be welcome here. I could use a little of that rub right about now. At least Fenrir seemed happy to see me. Circling between Marf and I’s legs, he took the scratches and rubs wherever they were on offer. I gave him one behind the ears, and he thanked me with a pant.

“Are you gonna let me in?” I ask.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”


“Let him in, Marf.”

An urging voice called from further inside the cottage. Marf only turned a fraction, but there was enough of an opening for me to push my way through. I took it. Marf and I bumped shoulders, knocking both of us to the side a bit, but I still made it in. Fenrir followed after. Marf didn’t just shut the door behind us, he slammed it. In doing so, he made his point perfectly clear.

“Take a seat,” the blue woman said. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”


I sat at the barren, wooden dining table. Fenrir curled himself around my feet, while Marf took a seat on the opposite side. We sat in an uncomfortable silence. I could feel his unbreaking gaze on me, but I tried not to pay it any head. Instead, I focused all my attention on a small dent in the timber. If I was being honest with myself, I understood Marf’s scepticism, more than I even understood his partner’s openness to welcome me. Still, I was invited in. I thought about asking for a light to pass the time, as the creaking of stairs gave the blue woman’s return away.

Her hair was always an attention grabber. It made it easy to dismiss her, but that was just the way she wanted it. Make no mistake about it, like the gruff man across the table, this dame was a stone cold killer. It wasn’t just the hair, either. The paler than typical skin; the ruby lips; the hint at flesh from behind slits in the side of her flowing skirt; right down to the way her pitch black mascara accentuated her eyes… all of it was designed to draw an eye in one direction, while she stabbed you in the heart from the other. Some might call me foolish for even coming here. I was lucky to still be breathing after my last encounter with Lycana, and with Marf lingering nearby, it only made the risk greater. I knew what I was getting into though. To find the answers I was looking for, I’m not sure there was any other way.

“Marf, why don’t you go and play with Reika for a moment?”

He glared up at her from the table.

“It’s okay, he can stay,” I said.

“I didn’t need your permission.”

“Don’t consider it permission then. Consider it an olive branch. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“That’s what someone who was here to cause trouble would say.”

“Relax,” Lycana said, placing a hand on Marf’s shoulder. She gave it a little squeeze. “If he wanted to cause trouble, he already would have.”

“Thanks for trusting me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I do trust Fenrir, though.”

The wolf heard its name, and raised its head. I reached down and ruffled the fur on the top of its head. Satisfied, it nuzzled its way into my ankle once more. The blue woman took a seat next to Marf, and ran her hand down his arm until she clasped her hand over his.

“So what do you want?” Marf asked.

“I want to know why I got sucked into your game. I want to know why The Left Hand was after me.”

There it was. I put it all on the table. The two crooks share a thoughtful glance, and I could see more willingness to share from the girl than her other half.

“We weren’t. At least, not specifically.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything Marf and I have ever said to you has been completely transparent. We wanted to teach you a lesson for crossing us. That’s all it ever was.”

“And might I add, fuck The Left Hand,” Marf said.

“Noted. But my gut tells me that there’s something more.”

After everything that I’d been through, I had learned to trust my gut. I had to dig deeper.

“What about The Baphomet? What were his motivations?”

“Fuck The Baphomet,” Marf added again. Lycana thought about the question further.

“He didn’t tell me everything. As far as I know, though, all was exactly as it appeared on his front.”

“I find it hard to believe that anything he said or did was as it appeared.”

“He’s right,” Marf said. “He lied to us all the time. Did I mention ‘Fuck The Baphomet?’”

“You did.”

I smiled at him. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn he returned the gesture. Lycana took her time again.

“There was a… being, I guess, that he introduced me to at one point. He referred to it as a goddess, but it wasn’t one I had ever heard of.”

“Goat with wings? Lots of candles?”

“You know?”

“I saw it once. I think… I think she called…

“...to you.”

My gut had done it again. I knew that coming here would give me answers.

“Would you be able to take me to her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The Left Hand is dead. And with it, the goddess is too. But…”

“But what?”

“He isn’t dead,” Marf butted in.

“Who?”

The two of them glanced at each other through side-eyes. I waited with baited breath.

“The Baphomet.”

I grinded my teeth. I knew what The Baphomet was. He was spoken about in only the worst speakeasies and dive bars, and I had been to all of them. The message was the same, no matter where I drank. No sizzle and no steak. Over a Doc Light or six, I’d join in with the jabs and mockery. He was joked about in the same way as the possibility of there being any full-strength Doc Ale left in the world. That drink had been all used up long ago, and anybody who still found value in The Baphomet was even rarer. Even so, I still had to wear the mark that the joke had left on me. And when I sobered, I had to make some sort of sense of it all. The cloud of what I had seen and heard had led me here to this cottage. Here to two people who I had sought to put down not long ago. I had to find out more.

“I thought he got shot.”

“He did,” Lycana replied.

“But he survived?”

“In a sense.”

“What does that mean?”

“She has his body hidden,” Marf interjected. “Alive. But unconscious.”

She looked at him with frustration, as if he’d just spilled the beans. As dawn cracked through the window, and the first rays of the morning sun touched her face, it softened. It felt like I saw a weight shift from her shoulders. She bowed her head, looking at the same table I had spent time staring at while I waited. Marf’s eyes fell back on me. Fenrir rose from his spot across my feet, and padded around the table to where Lycana sat. At his size, I could easily see him drive his muzzle into her lap from above the surface of the table. Stroking his thick fur brought her back into the moment. I knew this was my chance.

“Can you take me to him?”

“Yes.”

With one word, I heard all I needed to. I had come a long way on this journey. It wouldn’t be long now until I reached the end.


TO BE DIS-CUNTINUED



4D: XX_Progress Notes_210923

Patient Progress Notes
Date: 09/23/21Therapist: Facility: Seven Devils
Patient: Age: ◻ Female ☑ Male
Session length: ______☑ No Session: Patient unconscious.
Treatment Issue: Sudden change results in adolescent behavior.
Symptoms observed during session:
☑ aggression (physical)
☑ aggression (verbal)
☑ agitation
◻ anger
◻ anhedonia
☑ anxiety/fear
☑ appetite disturbance
☑ danger to others
☑ danger to self
◻ decreased energy/fatigue
☑ delusions		◻ depressed
☑ distractibility
☑ emotional lability
☑ feelings of worthlessness
☑ hallucinations (auditory)
☑ hallucinations (visual)
◻ hopelessness/ helplessness
☑ impulsivity
☑ irritability
☑ negative statements		☑ noncompliance (medical care)
☑ restlessness
☑ sad/pained/ worried expression
☑ self deprecation
☑ sleep disturbance
☑ socially inappropriate
☑ social withdrawal
☑ suicidal ideation or plan
☑ thought disorder
☑ other: adolescent behavior
◻ other:
Diagnoses: Undetermined
Intervention strategies implemented and session focus or theme: No session. Extra fruit provisions. Monitoring progress from afar.
Patient Response:☑ Marked improvement
◻ Some improvement		◻ Same functioning
◻ Symptoms worsening
Evidence of patient response: Patient demonstrated alarming clarity and capacity for interpersonal relationships. This is a considerable change and should be celebrated in the patient’s next session.
Future treatment/Follow-up: Follow-up session scheduled for tomorrow.
Signature of therapist/title:
]]> 6A: The Haunted Chronicles of Doctor Louis D’Ville’s Better


OPENING CREDITS:



##Accused of a crime
The bright sun winked to the moon
“Inspired by you”##


- Part Six -

“A LONG, SLOW GOODBYE”




The Ex, Present, and Future wakes up.

A loud shout snapped me awake. I groaned, rolling to the edge of my bed, and looked across to the nightstand. The alarm clock blinked back at me with four zeroes. On the sight of it, I jerked my head up and looked around the room. Adjusting to the dark, I saw fraying curtains hanging over the solitary window, but they were too thick to get a gauge on how the day looked on the other side. I reached across the bedside table to where my phone hung half over the edge, attached to a stretched charging cable. I fumbled with the cord. With one hand I managed to unhook it and I managed to catch it before it slipped over the edge. I brought it in front of my face, and squinted through barely-awake eyes as I pushed the button on the side. The backlight lit up and showed me the real time. Five-oh-six in the morning. It was a little earlier than I had intended, but I suppose it could have been worse. It had been a restless night, so at least I got a little bit of sleep. That was a small victory.

I heard another shout coming from outside the door. My body creaked as I pulled myself over the edge of the bed. My feet hit the paper-thin carpet, feeling the cold rising up from the solid concrete underneath. I pushed myself to my feet and staggered my way across the room to the paint-chipped door. I tugged at its handle. It opened slightly, but a jolt shot up my arm as the security chain caught the door and my hand slipped. Grumbling to myself, I shut the door again and slid the chain off its latch, before trying again. I poked my head outside.

It was still dark out. The sun had yet to rise above the North Carolina treeline, though a faint light suggested it wasn’t far away. Silhouettes of birds rose up from the woods at the thought of it. As another shout ricocheted between the slats of a wooden fence and the long motel wall that I poked my head out of, I turned my head towards the sound. Four or five doors down, a man stood outside another room shouting obscenities. An indecipherable shrieking voice replied from the other side of the door. On the man’s end, stabbing fingers pointed accusingly at the window from his leather jacketed-arms. I was quickly joined by several other guests checking in on the commotion.

“What the fuck are you all looking at?!” the man shouted, turning his attention to the rest of us.

He flicked a cigarette from his mouth onto the ground, as the other heads withdrew. A little groggy still, it took me a moment to react. That’s when I noticed him staring directly at me. Against the pale of his bald head, his eyes seemed even blacker.

“You got a fucking problem, junkie?”

“Huh?” I replied, still needing some time to process things. “I was, uh… sleeping.”

“Well then pop another needle and get the fuck back to bed!”

“It’s hard. You’re a bit on the loud side.”

“What the fuck did you say?!”

That hit a nerve. The man stamped towards me with a silence in his walk that drew a few of the rabbits back out from their warrens. He stopped close, without a care in the world for my personal space. By now, the bitterness of the morning had found its way into my bones. Forcibly, it shook me back to myself. If it hadn’t, I’m sure the stale bourbon on the man’s breath would have. I tried to hold my head to the side, so that I could avoid the worst of it. With each move, however, his head followed. He tried to tower over me, but as I grew more alert, I rose with him. Matching his height, I saw a moment of concern pass through his eyes, before the liquor took over once more.

“I asked you a fucking question!” With an open hand, he shoved me in my shoulder. I took half a step back, before squaring to him once again.

“I said that you’re a bit on the loud side,” I say.

“Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“I mean… you kind of did actually.”


“You’ve got a fucking death wish, don’t you?”

He reached into his coat, and I saw the blade glimmer before it was in his hand. It never found its way to me. A short burst from a siren announced the arrival of a black and blue police car. The town’s name, ‘BOONE’ was written on the side above the back wheel. It’s engine chugged to a halt, and the officer was met by a portly man emerging from underneath a door marked ‘RECEPTION’. He pointed in our direction, and the man promptly put the knife away.

“Is there a problem here?” the policeman asked as he approached us.

“No, no problem!” the man said. The officer looked at me expectantly.

“He has a knife. And he woke everyone up.”

The bald man stared daggers at me. I didn’t care.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to leave.”

The officer gestured towards the opening to the driveway that he had just driven into. I stood firmly in my doorway, eyeing the officer’s other hand as it moved towards the handle of a holstered gun. Grunting, the bald man reluctantly obliged, spitting at the cop’s vehicle on his way out. I followed him with my eyes until he was completely out of view.

“Are you okay, sir?” The officer asked me.

“I need a damn smoke.”

On a small round table in the corner of the motel room, I had left a small pouch of tobacco and a pack of papers. Leaving the policeman at the doorstep, I made my way back over to it, and set to rolling myself a cigarette. Taking the final product back outside to the dull grey of the early morning, I struck a matchstick and lit the fuse. Satisfied with my first hit, I let the match fall to the pavement. There wasn’t much in the way of fuel to keep it going, but I crushed it under my heel anyway. I drew a long, comforting drag, and breathed smoke out into the air. Through its haze, I watched the officer again consulting with the portly man, whom I assumed to be the motel manager. If you asked me, he was far too animated for this time of the day. The officer took it all in stride. Somewhere along the way, as I puffed on my sweet release, the two men’s attention turned back towards me. The manager was ushered inside, and the officer came back towards me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Better now,” I said from behind another deep inhale.

“The manager said you came in late last night. He thought you looked suspicious. I tend to agree. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“It’s a free country, ain’t it?”

He pulled out a small notepad and a black ballpoint pen.

“What’s your name?”

“Depends who’s asking.” My answer drew a leer from underneath the peak of his cap, and he scribbled on his pad.

“Where’d you come from?”

“Around.”

“Where are you going?”

“Seven Devils.”

He looked up at me from the pad again, a look of consternation on his face. I blew smoke up over his head.

“Seven Devils, you say?”

“Uh huh.”

“Ain’t nothing but bad news there.”

“By the looks of it, nothing but bad news here either.”

My eyes trailed off towards the driveway again. Pursing his lips, the police officer placed his pen on his notepad, tucking it under his thumb. I had seen that sort of look before. It asked ‘what am I going to do with you?’ without the need to open his mouth.

“When are you leaving?” he asks.

“Today.”

“Manager wants you out as soon as possible.”

“I’ll leave when I’ve sorted myself a ride.”

“To Seven Devils?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s about a half-hour drive. I can take you out there. But it’s a one way trip, you hear?”

“Works for me. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“You have five.”

Through the billowing smoke, I eyed him warily. He returned the gaze. Nodding, I dropped my cigarette next to the matchstick, snuffed the flame, and without any more fuss, I set about gathering my belongings.

It was time for me to get some answers.



KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Hello, in there! Are you feeling okay?

The nurse’s cheek presses against the small square window to the tiny, little room as she peers in, checking for safety. The kitchen sink had already been taken out of the room, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think there was only one risk. It was probably not even the most dangerous. Within, the Patient sits calmly, cross-legged in the center. All around him, fine padding covers surfaces from ceiling to floor, inclusive.

You can come in.

He doesn’t even look up. The door opens without a sound, pulling outward so as not to disturb the protective covers. The nurse shuts the door behind her, and unsteadily finds her feet on the mattresses, holding out an arm to gain her balance. In the hand attached to the end was a small tote bag.

Have you been drawing again?

Huh? Oh… yeah…

He pulls his attention away from reruns of XWF Saturday Night Impact on the television set that somehow makes sense to be in a padded room. That’s dangerous in its own right, especially as he himself comes on screen. The real him. The actual real him that sits in the room. Don’t read so much into it. A pencil - also a sensible thing for this setting, dull or not - rolls off the edge of a piece of paper as he hands it up to the nurse who examines it.

[Image: uJdDVqD.jpg]


Where’d you get the red from? Are you okay?

Yeah, I’m fine. It just kind of appeared while I was drawing.

The nurse hands it back to the Patient, who haphazardly slides it to the side. She looks around the room.

What happened to the other drawings?

What do you mean?

Didn’t you have more? It was… messier.

It’s all in that one. It always was. Are you, uh… are you remembering things differently?

For a moment she doubts herself. She doubts what the Doctor had told her. Then she remembers the bag.

The doctor said to give you some more fruit.

The Patient takes a bite out of an offered apple, not even thinking before he Eats. The questions come after.

Do you know how far up on the tree this was growing?

Uh… I don’t know. The bottom?

Shit. I suppose that’ll have to do. Good fruit is good fruit, you’d be have to be crazy to turn it down!

He takes another bite, juices dripping down his chin.

Did the Doctor say anything else?

He was just checking in on your condition.

And?

More of the same.

Huh, I would have thought he’d have tried to stop the tide by now. Not a very good doctor is he? Does he have a diagnosis yet?

I’m afraid not.

No matter. I’m sure he’s doing his best. One day, maybe he will actually catch up. I just worry that it’ll all be too late.

The nurse stammers over her words. There’s a genuine concern in her voice when she continues.

For… for what?

For the end.

Do you… do you have a plan?

What?!

A look of shock crosses the Patient’s face.

No! Not THAT end!

The nurse lets out an audible sigh. As the Patient takes another bite of the apple, he chucks it, partially-eaten, back into the bag. I’m sure that’ll be relevant later.

Just let him know when you see him next that I’m still waiting. My door is always open. From the outside anyway.

With a nod from the nurse, the Patient knows she has understood him.

I’d like to be alone now.

Of course.

Smiling sweetly, she makes her way back across the cushioned floor. The door closes effortlessly behind her, and he hears her latch it up. One. Two. Three. Her footsteps clop their way down a long and beaten-to-death corridor, and as they fade out of earshot, he draws in a deep breath.

How long has it been? Seven years? Ten years? Who knows? Maybe the Doctor got his files mixed up. That’s okay, though. I’ll help him remember. I’ll help him understand better than he ever thought he could.

He leans back onto the mattress flooring. Little granules of dirt start dripping their way into the room from the walls and ceiling. The entire space tumbles and turns and soon he finds himself laying on the top of the grandest mountain in existence. He gets to his feet and takes a stretch, looking down upon his kingdom.

Louey, Louey, Louey…

He speaks into the air, THREE TIMES, as if he expected a response.

Huh… nothing. I guess the rules don’t work.

Rules?

What rules?


’Lou’ Said:It’s not going to be like the pissing contest you just had. I’m not going to attempt to exploit your few missteps or try and get you to say something contradicting.


That rule, for starters. In context, that’s really the only way you could have understood it too. It makes a ton of sense when you…

’Lou’ Said:Stop reading so much into what I say. Or read better? I don’t know what happened there.

I think you got a little lost in the metaphors, man. It’s okay, it happens to the best of us. ‘You, a snake, …’ You can see how that could be misinterpreted, right? For example, if I said ‘you, a cunt, are getting a little hard of hearing these days’, it’d be perfectly understandable. I’d say something snide about fruit again, maybe even give an ‘OM NOM NOM’, but I don’t even mean that to be an old person’s joke. Rather, I just mean to say that your head is wedged so firmly up your ass that you're being a little selective with what you're picking up on. I guess I still got cute with it anyway. Oh well. Lucky I'm not the one prattling on about how my foe isn't focused in Relentless because he's mentioning other things, while simultaneously doing the same thing. What's that? You're just replying to me? Let me see what I can do about getting you a fucking mirror.

Look, I’ll put my hand up and say that I see now how you were just making a list. I misinterpreted you on that one. I understand how I wound up in that position - you are threatening me with harm, after all, it’s natural to assume the worst. Using names could’ve helped on your end too - since apparently that’s a thing between us now. Corey’s I have heard from your piss-sipper before, but never mine.

Power, amirite?

None of that is a good excuse though. I’ll even go as far as to say sorry, for whatever that’s worth. I don’t expect the same from you on the whole ‘rules’ front. You didn’t explicitly say that’s what it was, I just put two and two together because you kept telling me that you’re being perfectly straight with me. Was I wrong to do so? Are you being less than one-hundred? This is an ‘honest exchange’ after all. You know me going down that route was just a call back to last time, don’t you? Sorry if I’m Patient-splaining, but I’m a bit lost on whether I need to spell this shit out for you or not. I know how metaphors aren’t really your thing, but then they also are, but then they only are when you inspire me, but then they aren’t again. What? Maybe if you got off the fucking fence then I'd get off your fucking lawn.

OM NOM NOM.

Tee-hee!

Sorry not sorry for the trashy swearsies. Must've gotten a little something on my book when you threw it in the bin. Or did you not do that? You've fucking said both. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. Maybe you're not saying anything at all. Walk it back, and yeah, white it out. Make a quip about how I can call you whatever I like, but then strongly suggest that there’s something wrong with me for doing so. Talk about something but then say that very thing doesn’t matter. Such focus that you’ve got going on there, pal. Swear that you’re not playing by the Chris Page playbook, while playing by Chris Page playbook, that you said you weren’t going to play by. Bold call. But hey, we’re not supposed to talk about him, are we? Or Corey, or Chaos. Because scolding me for that is totally not playing a damn near identical card as him, right? It’s almost like you talk about what others did against me, and expect me not to be able to respond. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Ockham’s razor - listen I wouldn’t have to keep saying it. Oh look, a few seconds have passed, now it must be fine to talk about other people! But then it’s not. Stop. Start. Turn around. Touch your toes. Simon says. Childish effin’ games. Doctor Atty.

Oops, I did it again!

Blah blah blah AtaraCorey blah blah blah.

Dodge, dip, duck, dive, and dodge.

Repetition.

But yeah, I’m not focused on Relentless, right? Nah, I’m over here running comparisons of how you line up to what I’ve done before but, but that’s not being focused in the Doctor’s office! The mere mention of someone else is a big no-no! But then it isn’t, and I can talk about who I want. Rinse and fucking repeat.

Fuck, man, imagine how unfocused I’d be if I didn’t even appear in two-thirds of my own shit? The hypo-clit just peeked out from under its hood! Don’t worry, I’m a good Eater. I’ll just fry it up on the fucking stove. What’s that? It’s hot and I shouldn’t touch it? Bitch I tried to touch it with your face. Corey stopped me. Oh no! May Day! Oh no! Talking about my friend! Lou can say he learned something from his past, but it’s TOTALLY not relevant for me to bring it up. Funny how that works when you’re on a particular side of the equation, isn’t it? White it out. Don’t address it. Makes it easier to pretend things have changed without anyone looking into it a little deeper. But you’re definitely not making excuses. Except for the excuses that you had already made. Hiss hiss, push push. Read into that what you will.

But you’re different now! You know better! Ninety wins, ladies and gents! It was important enough to mention, but yet… nope! The past still doesn’t matter! Only when you mention it, eh? Or is this all just a ‘waste of words’? Better talk about how Corey would definitely cash in on you, but then say we still shouldn’t talk about him! Righty-o. Good thing you’re not dwelling on it while you’re absolutely dwelling on it. Pointing something out but still banging on about it seems like something we have in common, Lou. I left half an apple in a bag for you.

Are you getting the picture, yet? Can you hear me up there in your asshole, or are you just seeing this as the child throwing a tantrum? You drew a line in the sand, said you wouldn’t cross it, continue to try to degenerate me for doing so, but then you dance from one side to another and act like this is about me trying to control the narrative. Tell us again how you learned from your errors but don’t show us any fucking evidence. We just need to take that on faith! But I’ve got the problem, yeah? You’re trying to lead me forward, and I just can’t stand it. Firstly, if you were doing the leading, should I be happy about that? Should anyone? I mean, aside from your Bobbies and Thunders and Jess’s and Oswalds and Chrises and co.

Oh noez! Other people’s names!

Thank God nobody criticised someone for that at the same time that those names are appearing in your shit.

Touch the stove!!!

Secondly, this isn't even fucking uniqe. I don’t mean that in the sense of me saying that you’re pulling a Page, or you saying that I’m pulling a Chaos - remind me who brought him up to begin with, again?

White-out.

No, I just mean that literally every one of us tries to control our narrative, Lou. We’re all out here thrusting out our chests and banging our war drums saying that it’s our story that will triumph. I uh… I thought that you’d know that by now. I’d have thought that you would have learned that. Instead you’re busy setting a bar for me to clear when we’re not even doing the fucking high jump. I guess what I’m saying is, YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I don’t like others trying to impose their will upon me. But that’s nothing new. It’s kind of been a defining trait of mine, and like the name thing, this isn’t unique to you. Sorry to break your heart on that. To be fair, you’d have already known that if you just read the fucking book already.

Oh, Lord…

It really would save us a lot of time. It’s pretty clear in it that I never said we couldn’t look back on the past, Lou. I just said the answers for you are not there. You’re trying to be what you were. You admitted as much yourself, even though your choice of actions ever since are more or less the same. Me? My past tells you what I am. Am I fucked up on time again, or are those two vastly different things?

You know what I am though, Lou. I’m the guy you had to shut the fucking doors for. I’m the guy who forced you to Eat-Pray-Love this shit and try to find the real you. As far as you’re concerned…

I’m the fucking mountain.

The Patient looks down over the edge at the many trying to climb below. He spits a thick loogie over the side, and waits to hear a splat. ‘Cause he’s a fucking child. It’s a long wait for the impact though. The mountain is HUGE!

And you’re climbing. My oh my, how that narrative has changed, hasn’t it? It’s okay. I forgive you. You’ve got to put words in my mouth to try and spin your tale. Chase? Race? Never said either. Climb? Fight? That’s much more my speed. But I do the same, don’t I? You didn’t say I wanted to ‘be’ you, just that you ‘inspired’ me. There goes the good Doctor again. X but not X. Y but not Y. Back pedal. U-turn. Deny! Deny! Deny! Easy to play it cool when you have that built-in back door of mere suggestion.

Back-door.

You forgot to take your fucking head out of it.

If the glove fits, you’re full of shit.

No excuses. Good one. You certainly implied you weren’t at your best though. Fuck outta here with that ‘reading too much into it’ bullshit. That game was fun for a hot minute, but the cat’s out of the fucking bag, Lou! And with how many times you’ve said something to only turn around and say it doesn’t matter, you’re just growing more and more exposed. On my end, I’mma read the tea leaves exactly as I see them, and right now they’re spelling L-O-U-I-S-M-Y-B-I-T-C-H. Weird tea, to be fair, but you flat out fucking said that you hadn’t been yourself. Yes you fell, and yes you admitted to it, but it doesn’t take a hop, skip, and a jump to get to the reason why you think that was. Especially since you think ‘O.G. Doc’ is going to right the ship. As in, not The King. Nor The Thing. LIKE YOU DAMN WELL SAID, YOU PERFORATED FUCKSTICK. Jesus face-fucking Christ, and I thought I was the one looking too much into things?

Save the denials. The implication was pretty fucking strong, boo, and yes that’s exactly how I’m going to interpret it. I know you’re fucking schtick ny now. I’ve pistol-whipped you twice already. You try to say things without saying them, and let people hang themselves with their own rope. That, Lou, is the only way to read into any of this from you, because otherwise you wouldn’t be giving yourself so many fucking outs. All you’d need is ‘I will win! Ha! Ha!’; end fucking rant. It’s not a ‘bad’ thing, though, buddy. It’s you, and I can appreciate that. But it’s the same fucking trick you pulled last time, and now it’s just that much more out in the open.

Oh shit, there I went talking about the past again. It’s not like it’s in context of pointing out the bullshit of present you or anything. Nah, ignore that. White it out and throw your fucking toys while saying you’re not throwing your toys.

Childish ‘effin games.

What’s a guy to do anyway, Lou, when I give you a whole damn novella and you keep insisting on tossing it out? Or are you reading it and trying to catch up? What? Man, if you flipped through pages like you’re flipping through responses to it, then we could probably save each other a lot of time. I’d love to leave it all behind, but you’re out here trying to tell me you’ve learned something when you haven’t even gotten to the end yet!

*POOF!*

Sorry I'm late.

That’s okay, I think he forgot you were even coming. I saw a shining girl on the mountaintop somewhere around here that I think you can go and join.

Thanks.

No problemo!

*POOF!*

You piqued my interest with one thing you said though, my man. You think that you’ve got something more to fight for than I do. Now that is an interesting thought! Something more than…

The Universe. Everything.


Crazier things have happened. I wonder though… what could it be?

…

…

…

Oh, nothing? Sounds pretty similar to what you’ve learned, then. Such a shame. You know when you put forward a proposition, you’re usually supposed to provide supporting evidence, right? Like, I don’t know, from objective observations such as, say… similar situations that occurred in the past. I thought you were supposed to be a doctor?! They really should have taught you that sort of critical thinking at school.

Unless… wait! No! It couldn’t be! Except… have you been implying what you’ve learned this whole time? Have you been implying what’s more than Everything?

Nah, you wouldn’t do that, would ya?

Guess I’ll just keep holding things over your head then!

I’m going to get another thing to hold, Lou. I’m going to fucking do it again. I’m the D’Ville’s bane. The Anti-Doc Equation. And yes, I’m confident. Yes, I’m arrogant. But I know exactly the kind of fight that I’m in for. You say you do too. That’s… respectful? In a way? But if you’re going to get all hung up on thinking I’m not ready because I, what... use the world around me as reference points? That’s a pretty weird thing to have an issue with. And if you’re stuck on that, then I don’t think you really do know what’s coming. It’s like this is Frankenstein vs. Count Dracula: the doctor forgot his fucking monster.

One way or another, we’re getting closer to the end. I’m not mocking that, Lou. I am deathly fucking serious about it. But if you don’t want to seize the fucking day, I’ll just have to do it myself.

There is an end coming. I’m just a cunt’s hair away from it.

It’s just not the end you’re thinking of. Surviving, indeed.



The drive out to the township was much the same as the conversation that had preceded it. He asked, and I answered. There wasn’t much need for an extended back-and-forth; neither of us had any intention of seeing the other again before we were done with this life. It gave me time to take a rare second and admire the scenery. More than once I’d been told that I had my head up in the clouds. That I was a dreamer. Given my sleeping patterns, I’d say they weren’t wrong. It was still a nice reprieve to be able to take in the mountain vistas as the road wove amongst the peaks and valleys.

The serenity weighed on me as we pulled up to my destination. Exiting the car without as much of a ‘thank you’ to the officer, the car pulled away just as abruptly. As eager as he was to get me out of Boone, I sensed the cop was just as eager to get away from here. I looked ahead through the dim early-morning light at a low, gentle hill that rose in front of me. It was dotted with wooden cabins, branching off of a snaking gravel path that wound its way up the hill towards the still-grey sky. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew while looking at it that the serenity was only surface deep. Something didn’t feel right about any of this.

I lit up a cigarette to help me fight against the cold, and I took my first step onto the beaten track. The township itself was remote enough, but this commune seemed to be tucked away even further from any prying eyes. A secret. My arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed either. Without checking my phone, I estimated it to be nearing six o’clock by now. Even at this time, there were signs of life stirring amongst the conifers and pines. A lean, beanstalk of a man caught my eye, as he took up a position leaning on a tree. He was promptly joined by a waif of a girl, with a thick black mess atop her head. Despite the gloom and the distance, I still caught a glint in their eye that chilled me to my core.

More residents made themselves known as I trekked my way up the path. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked at their spying eyes, and each body arranged themselves closer to the direction that I was moving in. This fast felt like it was becoming a confrontation. It didn’t take long until I was proven right. A hulking frame quite unlike the man from the motel, stepped in front of my path. With his chestnut-brown hair tied roughly behind his neck, he actually dwarfed me.

“I’m not here for a fight.”

I’m not even sure he heard me. He looked at me from behind eyes that flared to life with an otherworldly orange. Two others stepped beside him, a woman whose eyes glowed a brilliant green and a smaller, more athletic man glaring from behind a haunting yellow.

“Easy. We don’t have to do this.”

None of the three replied. The brute in front’s face began to contort, and his mouth began to snarl.

The curdling howl of a wolf drew all of our attention. The giant man turned so he could view behind him. Trotting down the path was a mass of black fur and ferocity. The brute’s back-up made a path, as the gigantic beast confidently strode up to greet me. If I had all the riches in the world, I would never have guessed that the wolf would have licked my hand next, but that’s exactly what it did. I gave it a scratch behind the ears, and out of the corners of my eyes I saw my adversaries relax. The wolf let out a muted yap, and it turned around and took several steps back up the path. Turning its neck back to where I stood, it begged me to follow. I obliged.

We made our way, beyond the trees and out of sight of the room, unmolested by the people who still continued to congregate on the fringes. In the centre of a small circle of cabin houses, a larger communal cottage stood as a focal point. It was there that the wolf was leading me. It bound its way onto the rickety porch, stopping short of the door while it waited for me. Discarding the cigarette onto the path, I stepped on it as I joined the wolf outside the door. The beast began pawing at it.

“That you, Fenrir?” croaked a voice from the other side.

The wolf, Fenrir, let out a responsive bark. From the other side of the door, I heard some plodding footsteps. The timber door swung open, and I was confronted by a face I had seen a thousand times before. He called himself Marf, and aside from the occasional snide remark, somehow the rest of us just took that name at face value. As would seem the norm today, he made sure to square his shoulders back and lift his head up high. Like the fellow down the path, he did stand taller than me, but even so, I wasn’t worried. I had danced this dance before. He looked down at the dog.

“You’ve got to stop bringing home roadkill, Fenrir. You know mama doesn’t like the smell.”

The dog whimpers an apology, and Marf forgives it with a rub along the back. This rugged, roughshod man looks up at me through dead eyes.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“But I did anyway.”

“So what brings you here? A creepy vision or a mysterious destiny?”

“Something along the lines of both.”

“Figures. First Betsy, now you.”

He’s referring to Betsy Granger. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a penchant for intergalactic travel. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye at first. Heck, we hadn’t even spoken much in a while, each caught up in our own little words, but I’d consider her a friend today nonetheless. I had heard that she had arrived on the doorstep of this same little village, seeking answers of her own. Seems to be something in the water in Seven Devils. I could tell by the tone of Marf’s voice that he wasn’t thrilled by these recent developments. Just like I had, Betsy had also experienced her fair share of troubles with Marf and his other half. Yet in less than two weeks, we had both turned up here on the doorstep.

“She here?”

“Betsy? No. Her and Lycana got back from fuck knows where last night.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Allegedly.”

It would have been nice to have her here. Even if Marf wasn’t fully on board, Betsy seemed to have at least earned a right to be welcome here. I could use a little of that rub right about now. At least Fenrir seemed happy to see me. Circling between Marf and I’s legs, he took the scratches and rubs wherever they were on offer. I gave him one behind the ears, and he thanked me with a pant.

“Are you gonna let me in?” I ask.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”


“Let him in, Marf.”

An urging voice called from further inside the cottage. Marf only turned a fraction, but there was enough of an opening for me to push my way through. I took it. Marf and I bumped shoulders, knocking both of us to the side a bit, but I still made it in. Fenrir followed after. Marf didn’t just shut the door behind us, he slammed it. In doing so, he made his point perfectly clear.

“Take a seat,” the blue woman said. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”


I sat at the barren, wooden dining table. Fenrir curled himself around my feet, while Marf took a seat on the opposite side. We sat in an uncomfortable silence. I could feel his unbreaking gaze on me, but I tried not to pay it any head. Instead, I focused all my attention on a small dent in the timber. If I was being honest with myself, I understood Marf’s scepticism, more than I even understood his partner’s openness to welcome me. Still, I was invited in. I thought about asking for a light to pass the time, as the creaking of stairs gave the blue woman’s return away.

Her hair was always an attention grabber. It made it easy to dismiss her, but that was just the way she wanted it. Make no mistake about it, like the gruff man across the table, this dame was a stone cold killer. It wasn’t just the hair, either. The paler than typical skin; the ruby lips; the hint at flesh from behind slits in the side of her flowing skirt; right down to the way her pitch black mascara accentuated her eyes… all of it was designed to draw an eye in one direction, while she stabbed you in the heart from the other. Some might call me foolish for even coming here. I was lucky to still be breathing after my last encounter with Lycana, and with Marf lingering nearby, it only made the risk greater. I knew what I was getting into though. To find the answers I was looking for, I’m not sure there was any other way.

“Marf, why don’t you go and play with Reika for a moment?”

He glared up at her from the table.

“It’s okay, he can stay,” I said.

“I didn’t need your permission.”

“Don’t consider it permission then. Consider it an olive branch. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“That’s what someone who was here to cause trouble would say.”

“Relax,” Lycana said, placing a hand on Marf’s shoulder. She gave it a little squeeze. “If he wanted to cause trouble, he already would have.”

“Thanks for trusting me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I do trust Fenrir, though.”

The wolf heard its name, and raised its head. I reached down and ruffled the fur on the top of its head. Satisfied, it nuzzled its way into my ankle once more. The blue woman took a seat next to Marf, and ran her hand down his arm until she clasped her hand over his.

“So what do you want?” Marf asked.

“I want to know why I got sucked into your game. I want to know why The Left Hand was after me.”

There it was. I put it all on the table. The two crooks share a thoughtful glance, and I could see more willingness to share from the girl than her other half.

“We weren’t. At least, not specifically.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything Marf and I have ever said to you has been completely transparent. We wanted to teach you a lesson for crossing us. That’s all it ever was.”

“And might I add, fuck The Left Hand,” Marf said.

“Noted. But my gut tells me that there’s something more.”

After everything that I’d been through, I had learned to trust my gut. I had to dig deeper.

“What about The Baphomet? What were his motivations?”

“Fuck The Baphomet,” Marf added again. Lycana thought about the question further.

“He didn’t tell me everything. As far as I know, though, all was exactly as it appeared on his front.”

“I find it hard to believe that anything he said or did was as it appeared.”

“He’s right,” Marf said. “He lied to us all the time. Did I mention ‘Fuck The Baphomet?’”

“You did.”

I smiled at him. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn he returned the gesture. Lycana took her time again.

“There was a… being, I guess, that he introduced me to at one point. He referred to it as a goddess, but it wasn’t one I had ever heard of.”

“Goat with wings? Lots of candles?”

“You know?”

“I saw it once. I think… I think she called…

“...to you.”

My gut had done it again. I knew that coming here would give me answers.

“Would you be able to take me to her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The Left Hand is dead. And with it, the goddess is too. But…”

“But what?”

“He isn’t dead,” Marf butted in.

“Who?”

The two of them glanced at each other through side-eyes. I waited with baited breath.

“The Baphomet.”

I grinded my teeth. I knew what The Baphomet was. He was spoken about in only the worst speakeasies and dive bars, and I had been to all of them. The message was the same, no matter where I drank. No sizzle and no steak. Over a Doc Light or six, I’d join in with the jabs and mockery. He was joked about in the same way as the possibility of there being any full-strength Doc Ale left in the world. That drink had been all used up long ago, and anybody who still found value in The Baphomet was even rarer. Even so, I still had to wear the mark that the joke had left on me. And when I sobered, I had to make some sort of sense of it all. The cloud of what I had seen and heard had led me here to this cottage. Here to two people who I had sought to put down not long ago. I had to find out more.

“I thought he got shot.”

“He did,” Lycana replied.

“But he survived?”

“In a sense.”

“What does that mean?”

“She has his body hidden,” Marf interjected. “Alive. But unconscious.”

She looked at him with frustration, as if he’d just spilled the beans. As dawn cracked through the window, and the first rays of the morning sun touched her face, it softened. It felt like I saw a weight shift from her shoulders. She bowed her head, looking at the same table I had spent time staring at while I waited. Marf’s eyes fell back on me. Fenrir rose from his spot across my feet, and padded around the table to where Lycana sat. At his size, I could easily see him drive his muzzle into her lap from above the surface of the table. Stroking his thick fur brought her back into the moment. I knew this was my chance.

“Can you take me to him?”

“Yes.”

With one word, I heard all I needed to. I had come a long way on this journey. It wouldn’t be long now until I reached the end.


TO BE DIS-CUNTINUED



4D: XX_Progress Notes_210923

Patient Progress Notes
Date: 09/23/21Therapist: Facility: Seven Devils
Patient: Age: ◻ Female ☑ Male
Session length: ______☑ No Session: Patient unconscious.
Treatment Issue: Sudden change results in adolescent behavior.
Symptoms observed during session:
☑ aggression (physical)
☑ aggression (verbal)
☑ agitation
◻ anger
◻ anhedonia
☑ anxiety/fear
☑ appetite disturbance
☑ danger to others
☑ danger to self
◻ decreased energy/fatigue
☑ delusions		◻ depressed
☑ distractibility
☑ emotional lability
☑ feelings of worthlessness
☑ hallucinations (auditory)
☑ hallucinations (visual)
◻ hopelessness/ helplessness
☑ impulsivity
☑ irritability
☑ negative statements		☑ noncompliance (medical care)
☑ restlessness
☑ sad/pained/ worried expression
☑ self deprecation
☑ sleep disturbance
☑ socially inappropriate
☑ social withdrawal
☑ suicidal ideation or plan
☑ thought disorder
☑ other: adolescent behavior
◻ other:
Diagnoses: Undetermined
Intervention strategies implemented and session focus or theme: No session. Extra fruit provisions. Monitoring progress from afar.
Patient Response:☑ Marked improvement
◻ Some improvement		◻ Same functioning
◻ Symptoms worsening
Evidence of patient response: Patient demonstrated alarming clarity and capacity for interpersonal relationships. This is a considerable change and should be celebrated in the patient’s next session.
Future treatment/Follow-up: Follow-up session scheduled for tomorrow.
Signature of therapist/title:
]]> <![CDATA[Relentless Moment]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41938 Thu, 23 Sep 2021 17:46:31 -0700 Big D]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41938
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with the FORMER bWo World Champion, Big D..................."

Big D silently cuts the interviewer off and takes hold of the mic for himself.

"Steve, I know you have alot of questions to ask and, quite frankly, I'm not sure if I can answer them all. So why don't I just tell you what's on my mind, and if I don't touch on something you were hoping I would, we just forget about them; what do ya say?"

Knowing he doesn't have much choice, Sayors simply nods and gestures for D to speak.

"Thank you..............."

D turns from Steve to the camera, a look of disappointment on his face.

"What a crazy world we're living in! We've got people without genders, robots who identify as men, and Miss Fury's the XWF World Heavyweight Champion. What an accomplishment! She couldn't beat me without the help of a God damn sexbot! Well let me tell you something, Fury, you better hold on to that belt nice and tight, because it's not always gonna be there for you. Someday, another XWFer is gonna take it from you.............. PERMANENTLY! And, when that day comes, I will relish in your misery, just as you have my own."

"But I'm not here to talk about the past. What happened happened and everyone witnessed the circumstances behind it. I KNOW I'm better than Miss Fury. I know I'm better than BOB! I don't need a belt to prove it, I already did so at Sin After Sin, and Scorch the Earth before THAT! Fury and her cronies can revel in her supposed victory, all it does is make them look like tools.............."

Big D pauses for a moment, before addressing his Relentless opponent.

"And speaking of tools, that brings me to Mr. BoB. I should hate you for what you did to me a couple weeks ago, but I don't. You're a machine, an object programmed to do what your master tells you to. Blaming you would be like blaming the gun for killing Kennedy; we all know it was the man who pulled the trigger that's ACTUALLY responsible! So, BoB, I don't have any ill will towards you.................. that being said, I'm gonna do everything within my power to put you down at Relentless!"

"I've competed at this pay-per-view the last 2 years now, and both times I've ended up leaving with a loss. I'm tired of it. I'm sick of losing big matches to opponents I KNOW I can beat! Fuzz was nowhere near the competitor he would go on to become after defeating me, and MeFisto was nothing more than a poor man's Miss Fury. Sure, he didn't have the backup Fury did, but he loved to cheat as much as she does! And here I stand, preparing to face a man made object at the biggest event of the year. It's not the most glamorous thing I've ever done, but it's better than being left off the card altogether!"

"This is my moment, BoB, and I'll be damned if I let a machine spoil it for me! Three years.............. three long, fucking years I've been competing here. I haven't had as much success as I was hoping to, but I've still had a better career than the carousel of wrestler's who come in here, see how tough it is, and run away with their tails between their legs! That ain't me. I've never backed down from a challenge, and I don't intend to start now! I've overcome the odds before and I'll do it again! I don't care that you're a machine. I don't care that it's gonna be nearly impossible to hurt you. I've faced bigger, and better, opponents than you and STILL managed to come out on top. Being a bucket of bolts does NOT make you better than flesh and bone, John Henry proved that! And, just like John Henry, I'll die trying to prove who the better 'man' is. Come Sunday night, I'm gonna get my Relentless Moment when I leave you laying in a pile of screws and sheet metal, with my hand raised in victory. And once I'm finished with you, I'm coming for your masters, too! Because this ain't over until I've buried each and EVERY last member of the group you were named after. So watch out, BoB, 'cause they're gonna be calling me Mr. Relentless by the time the show comes to a close............... see you Sunday."

Big D hands the mic back to Steve Sayors before walking out of frame.

"You heard it, folks, Big D's looking for that Relentless moment so many others before him have gone on to immortalize. Will Sunday be his night? We'll find out soon enough."]]>
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with the FORMER bWo World Champion, Big D..................."

Big D silently cuts the interviewer off and takes hold of the mic for himself.

"Steve, I know you have alot of questions to ask and, quite frankly, I'm not sure if I can answer them all. So why don't I just tell you what's on my mind, and if I don't touch on something you were hoping I would, we just forget about them; what do ya say?"

Knowing he doesn't have much choice, Sayors simply nods and gestures for D to speak.

"Thank you..............."

D turns from Steve to the camera, a look of disappointment on his face.

"What a crazy world we're living in! We've got people without genders, robots who identify as men, and Miss Fury's the XWF World Heavyweight Champion. What an accomplishment! She couldn't beat me without the help of a God damn sexbot! Well let me tell you something, Fury, you better hold on to that belt nice and tight, because it's not always gonna be there for you. Someday, another XWFer is gonna take it from you.............. PERMANENTLY! And, when that day comes, I will relish in your misery, just as you have my own."

"But I'm not here to talk about the past. What happened happened and everyone witnessed the circumstances behind it. I KNOW I'm better than Miss Fury. I know I'm better than BOB! I don't need a belt to prove it, I already did so at Sin After Sin, and Scorch the Earth before THAT! Fury and her cronies can revel in her supposed victory, all it does is make them look like tools.............."

Big D pauses for a moment, before addressing his Relentless opponent.

"And speaking of tools, that brings me to Mr. BoB. I should hate you for what you did to me a couple weeks ago, but I don't. You're a machine, an object programmed to do what your master tells you to. Blaming you would be like blaming the gun for killing Kennedy; we all know it was the man who pulled the trigger that's ACTUALLY responsible! So, BoB, I don't have any ill will towards you.................. that being said, I'm gonna do everything within my power to put you down at Relentless!"

"I've competed at this pay-per-view the last 2 years now, and both times I've ended up leaving with a loss. I'm tired of it. I'm sick of losing big matches to opponents I KNOW I can beat! Fuzz was nowhere near the competitor he would go on to become after defeating me, and MeFisto was nothing more than a poor man's Miss Fury. Sure, he didn't have the backup Fury did, but he loved to cheat as much as she does! And here I stand, preparing to face a man made object at the biggest event of the year. It's not the most glamorous thing I've ever done, but it's better than being left off the card altogether!"

"This is my moment, BoB, and I'll be damned if I let a machine spoil it for me! Three years.............. three long, fucking years I've been competing here. I haven't had as much success as I was hoping to, but I've still had a better career than the carousel of wrestler's who come in here, see how tough it is, and run away with their tails between their legs! That ain't me. I've never backed down from a challenge, and I don't intend to start now! I've overcome the odds before and I'll do it again! I don't care that you're a machine. I don't care that it's gonna be nearly impossible to hurt you. I've faced bigger, and better, opponents than you and STILL managed to come out on top. Being a bucket of bolts does NOT make you better than flesh and bone, John Henry proved that! And, just like John Henry, I'll die trying to prove who the better 'man' is. Come Sunday night, I'm gonna get my Relentless Moment when I leave you laying in a pile of screws and sheet metal, with my hand raised in victory. And once I'm finished with you, I'm coming for your masters, too! Because this ain't over until I've buried each and EVERY last member of the group you were named after. So watch out, BoB, 'cause they're gonna be calling me Mr. Relentless by the time the show comes to a close............... see you Sunday."

Big D hands the mic back to Steve Sayors before walking out of frame.

"You heard it, folks, Big D's looking for that Relentless moment so many others before him have gone on to immortalize. Will Sunday be his night? We'll find out soon enough."]]> <![CDATA[Culmination: 3/3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41934 Thu, 23 Sep 2021 13:00:44 -0700 Chris Page]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41934 Culmination: The Final Chapter.


Jessica and I were Relentless bound where we made several stops along the way. Popped a rating for the backyard federation down in Key West, came back up through Kentucky, and now we are Chicago bound in mid-flight. We find CCP and Jessica on the couch watching television; nothing special, her headrests in his lap while she lays across the couch with his left arm draped across her shoulder.


Jessica: What’s on your mind?


Jess can always tell when something isn’t right. It’s like her spidey senses start tingling.


” Oh a little bit of this and a little bit of that.”


The vagueness from Chris doesn’t sit well with Jess as she spouts back.


Jessica: No let’s not be specific or anything.”


With that Chris picks up the remote to the television and mutes it before laying the remote back down on the end table.


” Fine, let’s get specific. I don’t know how I feel about what transpired Monday Night. That mother fucker put his nasty, grubby hands on you; I can deal with them taking shots at me, no problem. The more and more I think about it I realize that they wanted to get a reaction. Let’s not do that. OCW is a scrub fed with dismal talent.”


OCW had my appearance on their programming ALL wrong. I knew when we walked through that back door right past Barney Fife they hired to stand guard that things were going to get ugly. I was an outsider showing up uninvited really and truly to accept this little challenge that’s been thrown at my feet by young Bam Miller.

Management within OCW legit had to stack the deck against me.

The moment I saw the news that XWF talent was barred from the building unless they’re in the ring I knew exactly what I needed to do. I did what others wouldn’t.

I accepted that challenge, marched to that ring, and said what I needed to say. Then the cavalry decided to show up and save you, Bam. That’s right, they saved you from further embarrassing yourself for you have no concept of who the fuck I am, and are under this delusion that you can say whatever you think sounds good.

You’re going to make my job easier than I expected.


” They’re going to learn the hard way.”


Jessica: I wouldn’t worry too much about myself. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Let them have their moment because to them it was the be-all-end-all. You and I both know that we could snap their necks at any time.”


” That’s a very good point.”


Jessica raises her head from Chris’s lap before sitting upright, she slides back against the far side armrest where she can look across at Chris as they continue.


Jessica: You said it best when labeling them as dismal. We have bigger fish to fry and you can’t allow yourself to get distracted headed into this weekend, babe. You need to be solely focused on dealing with Robert and sending him on his way, permanently.”


I wish I could say I was surprised by the last-minute showings of Robert Main leading into the biggest weekend of his career. I mean the dude is a lost cause right now; he’s mentally broken, he’s questioning himself on if he made the right decision by throwing out XWF career versus career for his is on the cusp of reaching its climactic end.


” I feel like giving Robert any more of my time is seemingly pointless. He’s done nothing different this go around like he’s done every other one. He waits until the final hours to open his goddamn mouth showing the world that he NEEDS me to lead him along the way. It’s goddamn embarrassing if I was him right now.”


You’d think that Robert might open his mouth sooner rather than later but instead of further exploiting his near-silence like the bitch that he is I am going to move forward. Robert Main isn’t ready for CCP. He wants you to all believe that admitting his failures is someone going to alleviate, going to distract you all from the fact that by admitting he’s a shell of his former self is VALIDATING exactly what the fuck I have been saying about him since day goddamn one.


” The only thing left to say about Main is that unlike wasting my time back at Leap of Faith I am guaranteed to get something more out of this than a cheap win. He’s got nothing to fall back on for this, he has no one to blame for any of this but himself. It’s all going to start Friday Night before ending on Saturday Night once and for all.”


Robert I am begging you to show the world that there’s a sliver of that old Robert Main that gives a flying fuck about what he’s doing comes out to play because thus far this has been easier than taking candy from a baby as the saying goes. I don’t think I’ve been more disappointed in you than I am here and now. I mean it’s not like you haven’t had MONTHS to prepare yourself for this. Let’s not pretend we didn’t foresee this collision course following Leap of Faith, so to say you didn’t have the time is bullshit.

You’re the same lazy fuck that you always have been.

You’re the same over-hyped turd I’ve pegged you for since Day One.

You’re so far into deep waters only to realize you can’t fucking swim.

You’re an embarrassment to yourself and your goddamn family.


Jessica: You have played him like a freaking fiddle for sure.”


” Don’t get me wrong, I assume he will wait until his final hours to try and pull the nose up like a bitch.”


Jessica: Even if he does, it’s not like it matters at this point because this dude is so much of a lost cause he makes C**ver look like a saint.”


” I don’t know about all that, but I see your point.”


Jessica: If the shoe fits.


One thing for certain when it comes to punk ass Main. Nobody and I means nobody is more looking forward to driving the final nail in the coffin on this feud. It’s a rare thing to have something ongoing as LONG as this has gone; some might say go on too long, and while I’ll agree that this issue needs to be put to bed once and for all can’t anybody say that this hasn’t been entertaining.

Nobody can say that we haven’t lit shit up more times than I care to count.

Nobody can say that we aren’t worthy of the position that we find ourselves in; well, at least myself. Opening up all three nights of Relentless, or being scheduled too, means that I am the guy that’s going to set the fucking pace for the nights. I couldn’t ask for a higher honor than to be the best thing anyone is going to see and everything else spiral downhill.

Nothing is going to touch what I am bringing to the table.


” You can’t polish a turd because it’s still a turd.”


Jessica laughs at the statement made by Chris as he shifts topics.


” I have been thinking a lot about what’s next for me in regards to wrestling. I can safely say that I have accomplished everything that I’ve set out to. The final piece to my equation was that Universal Title. Since that’s been scratched off the bucket list I don’t have a whole hell of a lot left to do other than end Robert’s career and stomp the piss out of Bam Miller. I was telling you before that I’ve got my eyes locked on a couple of people I want to bring into my mix.”


Jessica: Fucking finally, some answers!


Chris smirks at the sarcasm from Jessica before flipping her the bird on his right hand. She gasps before throwing up both middle fingers back at Page.


” You promise?”


Jessica: You ass.


Chris lowers his middle finger winking at Jessica as she lowers both of hers.


” I’ve been watching several pieces of talent, all of which have something to offer when it comes to what I am wanting to build; and this time what I am going to build has jackshit to do with me but everything to do with the people that are getting involved. We got this OCW versus XWF nonsense that’s brewing, right?”


Jessica: Yeah.


” Here’s what I am thinking because you know that the logic is for people to pick a side from fans to even talent alike. What if we offered another side that isn’t OCW and that isn’t the XWF?”


Jessica: I don’t follow.


” I am wanting to assemble a group of talent that can kick the shit out of both companies. Go big or go home.”


Jessica: Who might be on that list?”


The million-dollar question is if there ever was one in a profession that has endless talent all at various points within their careers especially in the age where all you have to do is @ someone on Twitter or other social media outlets. I see endless potential while not only observing XWF but also Fight NYC for example, or what about Project Honor just to name a few? The depth of promotions around the globe shall become my oyster.

Yet when thinking about this possible concept there is only one place to look first.


” You might call me crazy…”


Jessica: I won’t guarantee that I won’t.”


” Here goes nothing…”


What should be pointed out initially is the reasoning behind approaching this individual first. It’s no secret I’ve been around three days longer than the dinosaurs but what makes getting older, yet still being able to compete at a world-class level is you get opportunities to deal with younger generations. Every once in a while you know when someone has it versus others that do not.


Jessica: Well?


” I am going to approach Thaddeus Duke this weekend.”


Without hesitation Jessica spouts out.


Jessica: That’s fucking crazy.”


... TO BE CONTINUED.




The Interview:


The scene opens with XWF journalist Steve Sayors sitting down with one “Chronic” Chris Page at an undisclosed interview set. Both men sit in two comfy chairs with Chris wearing his long hair tied back into a ponytail while dressed casually for this appearance.


” Ladies and gentlemen welcome to another XWF exclusive interview with none other than Chris Page.”


Steve turns his attention towards CCP as he opens up the interview.


” We are just days away from Relentless 2021 kicking off in Chicago. The three-day event has delivered so many memorable moments within the history of the XWF, and this year isn’t going to be an exception. On a night in which the stakes are high across the board, they couldn’t be any higher than they are for you and Robert Main when you consider your XWF careers are on the line.”[blue]


Chris simply nods his head as Steve continues.


[blue]” We’ve got a lot to talk about today, Chris. The first place to start is how are you feeling as Relentless is vastly approaching.”


” I feel great because to me this is just another day at the office. I don’t get enthralled with stipulations like my XWF career being on the line for it only serves as a distraction. Take when Robert added this stipulation into the mix on Warfare for example; how desperate does one have to be to try and change the game on the way into the biggest event the XWF has ever had? This dude is dumb enough to think anything he has to say or anything he wants to add to this contest is going to detract from every truth that has been spoken out against him.”


” Coming into Relentless you and Robert Main are scheduled for a Three Stages of Hell Match with one fall taking place each night throughout the weekend. You are certainly no stranger to competing across the board at Relentless, do you think it will give you an advantage?”


” I don’t need an advantage over Robert… Let's get that straight here and now. Robert by his admission is a broken shell of what he once was. It’s about time he finally admitted to himself what the rest of the world has known for two years. Robert hasn’t been about shit since 2019 without ole Chris Page leading him by the hand, and now suddenly he realizes it. Good for him. It’s about time he stops living with his head up his ass and starts living in the real world. As far as having an advantage because I did compete on all three nights of Relentless last year? Who the fuck cares about last year? This is here and now.”


Chris abruptly states.


” We all know what has brought us this far, we all know the road that has to lead us to this point and this one weekend where it’s all on the line. Let’s talk about that versus anything else for it is why we’re here.”


” Robert was allowed to name the first stipulation for Friday Night’s match; it’s an Ironman Match in which for sixty minutes you and Main will tangle. Where’s your head at with this first fall?”


A smirk from Chris appears on his face before he responds.


” That Robert can’t even name a stipulation without stealing from Thad.”


Chris chuckles under his breath before quickly correcting himself.


” I kid, I kid… my true thoughts on him naming an Ironman Match is intelligence has never been Robert’s strong suit. It’s never been more evident than with this selection of his stipulation for Night One. I’ve already spoken at length with my intentions to use Relentless weekend as nothing more than to add to the embarrassment that is Robert Main’s existence.”


Chris states with a direct tone of voice as he looks directly across at Steve.


” The past has led us to this one intersecting moment in which it’s either going to be worth all the bullshit or it isn’t. That’s what this Relentless weekend boils down to too me. We kick start this thing by going sixty minutes, and here Robert was thinking that he did himself a favor but all he’s managed to do was seal his fucking fate. The entire concept of an Ironman Match is to score the most falls in the sixty-minute time limit, right?”


” Correct.”


” Now the point I’ve previously made stems around the structure of the rules versus the stipulation for the weekend. You would think that if your XWF career is on the line you wouldn’t put your own goddamn back against the wall opposite the very man that is responsible for putting the plan into motion that nearly fucking killed you; you wouldn’t raise the stakes for the entire event first and foremost, taking it a step further it doesn’t seem like the smartest idea to trap yourself with the very prick that can utilize every minute to inflict pain and suffering the likes you’ve never seen before, and it doesn’t seem like a bright idea to put yourself at risk to MISS the rest of the weekend.”


Chris rolls his eyes as he continues with a bit of sarcasm.


” Yeah Steve, we got ourselves a real rocket scientist in our midst.”


Chris states as he lightly just sakes his head in disbelief.


” Theoretically; if I were to, I don’t know, render him incapable of completing the rest of the weekend then night two and three become forfeits and I take his career. If I elect not to murder him on live television, and somehow he does make it Night Two it ends at Night two. He isn’t winning a goddamn thing unless I want him to. Now, I want you to think about that for just a second, and if you’re Robert Main you’re walking into Night One with a cracked fucking skull. Any match he steps in he’s at risk, more risk than anyone else in the ring.”


Steve interjects.


” Let me ask you this then; since you’re so confident that Night One is yours, what is the stipulation for Night Two? If it ends in two like you’ve made it known, what’s the match you end Robert’s career?


” Well that’s easy.”


Chris casually responds.


” No Holds Barred.”


There’s a nod of approval from Chris as he continues with his statement.


” Bear in mind this is all hypothetical that he even medically cleared to walk down the aisle of course.”


” Chris why do you have this deep-rooted disdain for Robert? With everything we’ve seen over the years, this is by far the epitome of a blood feud.”


” Where the hell do I start? Is how he throws his nose up at the world? Could it be how in his eyes he once was the greatest thing since sliced bread; but Steve, Robert is walking into this already a broken man. It’s taken him all this time for the realization to set in that he has been nothing more than a long-term placeholder. This cock smoker legit thinks that even back in 2019 that he was responsible for the boom the XWF underwent, he is under this false delusion that he means something more than a fucking punchline now. It took some time, it took a lot of planning but what you have all witnessed over the last two-plus years is the definition of what sticking to a plan brings you. Do you think it was by luck that our road has led us back to where it was supposed to end initially at Relentless?”


A cocky tilt of the head from Chris as he holds up his right hand cutting off Steve before he can respond.


” Every step has been carefully thought out, and with the loss of his father now in the mix, you can’t sit in front of me and tell me that he is focused on dealing with me on the grandest stage XWF has to offer. He opened his mouth and inserted his foot yet again like he ALWAYS has done, the difference this time I’m here to pull his punk card. I have spoken at length over the last week or so about our past, our present, and now it’s our future. For Robert, his future looks bleak as fuck. Unlike Mr. Main, I have been plotting and planning his execution. There’s not a goddamn person in this or any universe that is walking into Relentless for Robert Main more prepared than I am. That's a fact that is undisputed on all fronts.”


” Don’t you think that you’ve done enough to Robert?”


” Brother there’s no such thing as enough when it comes to ruining the life of Mr. Main. He’s had this coming for a very long time. The exception this time around is he doesn’t have Apex to prop himself up with, he doesn’t have his friends to carry him to victory like they did a few weeks back on Warfare, he doesn’t have anyone to rely on but himself. Where he is going to fuck up beyond repair is by being that broken fucking record that he’s always been. When was the last time we’ve heard some original smack talk from him? You’ve seen his promos leading to this, right? Tell me if he has said anything that he didn’t say heading into Leap of Faith OR regurgitated from 2019? It’s the same propaganda in a different year. He’s fallen into the same trap that he would get so pissed off over when people are that lame they can’t be creative enough to spit original shit. Listening to Robert talk shit is about as pointless as OCW invading the XWF.”


There’s a scoff from Chris Page.


” Nobody is more ready to move on from Robert than I am, and now that opportunity has finally come full circle.”


” Let’s talk about your career for a moment. You’ve been in the business for thirty years. You’ve won countless championships, and as motivated as you are to defeat Robert Main; what if Robert defeats you and ends your XWF career?”


” Hell has a better chance of freezing over, but I know it’s your job to play both sides of the coin so I’ll entertain this question. If, and that’s a BIG if, Robert can defeat me I will walk away from the XWF as an in-ring competitor fully upholding my end of the contract we have signed. When you’ve been around as long as I have you come to understand that everyone has an expiration date even Chris Page. It doesn’t change that I will go down as one of the greats to ever lace a pair of goddamn boots. Eighteen major championships headlined every major sporting arena or stadium around the world and continued to run circles around people less than half my age. I don’t know about you brother, but those are some solid accomplishments if I do say so myself.”


” There are some talks ongoing that you have left BOB…”


Chris quickly interjects.


” What does that have to do with anything?”


” Chris, don’t be coy. We all know you are a master manipulator, you pulled this with Alias a few weeks ago citing BOB’s open-door policy. Are the rumors true? Will you speak on them?”


” When it comes to BOB I wish them the best of luck in their endeavors. It’s been a long time coming as I have sat back and watched things unfold. BOB doesn’t need me and I sure as hell don’t need them. Now, what I am not going to do is sit here and slam them because as you know Miss Fury and I are a thing, and even if we weren't that isn’t good business. We are going to see if that open-door policy is a real thing or is it bullshit. For the record, I withdrew from BOB for my reasons that I will fully get into at a later time.``


” What does Miss Fury think about it all?


” None of your concern.”


There’s an awkward pause from Steve.


” Um, okay. You mentioned OCW earlier, and earlier this week you appeared on OCW Television that didn’t exactly see you standing on your own feet.”


Chris snickers under his breath before he responds.


” Ya know there’s a lot of talk about this “war” that’s brewing between OCW and the XWF. Like it’s the XWF’s fault they’ve contracted better talent that can flourish within ANY federation at any time. Look right now for example; Thad Duke is rocking two belts, the Bastards are rocking two belts, Betsy has one of their Championships while their “homegrown” talents wouldn’t know a legitimate Main Event if they were booked in it over in OCW. I did show up on their program Monday Night alongside Miss Fury to confront Bam Miller. It’s safe to say he got owned within that exchange, and I granted him what he’s been asking for… a chance to brush up with the greatness that is Chris Page.”


There’s a very brief pause from Chris Page as he contemplates his next words before he states.


” OCW Management made a point to ban half of their champions from appearing over this petty nonsense by citing if they aren’t in the ring they aren’t on the show. I elected to get into that toilet they call a wrestling ring alongside, stood across the ring from that chump, pretty much told them this is a losing battle, and then what? They brought out the ENTIRE roster to get the dupe on little ole me and my gal.”


Chris starts a sarcastic golf clap while spouting out.


” Very impressive.”


Chris stops his golf clap as he lowers his hands while continuing.


” But hey, what more can you expect from a half-assed wrestling promotion that needs to leech off the XWF’s status to garner the slimmest of attention. Fuck man, who all has belts? The Bastards, Thad, Betsy, and goddamn Dolly are in title contention matches at the next dismal failure that they call a Pay-Per-View. It’s gotta suck to be under contract with OCW when half their belts are being carried by the part-time talent that are getting astronomical payoffs. It’s smart for The Bastards, Thad, and Betsy to carry their belts while lining their pockets for more green, and the OCW, in general, are suckers for being stupid enough to agree to such terms. Is this a company that is going to stand toe to toe with the names I’ve just mentioned? Fuck no.”


” You mentioned The Bastards, Thad, Betsy, and Dolly; while it's established what their roles are within OCW, for example, the Bastards are the Tag Champions, Thad is the Savage Champion… What exactly is your role in all this? Why did you even appear on their show in the first place?”


” Allow me to answer the second part first.”


” By all means.”


” I knew by showing up down in Key West, and the moment I stepped foot on that death trap they called an entrance I was lending credibility to their product; I mean let’s face it, it’s not every day you get someone with the drawing power of a Chris Page in OCW. I was okay with popping the biggest rating they have seen the moment news traveled that the real GOAT of Professional Wrestling was standing in that ring instead of warming the chair behind a fucking desk in a corner office.”


Chris slowly turns his head directly towards the camera, his blue eyes locked firmly on the lens.


” High James, did you miss me?”


Chris turns his attention across to Steve.


” Showed up because that Miller cunt can’t stop bothering me on Twitter. It’s one thing to try and play Billy Badass behind a keyboard, and much like he found out when he was standing in the ring with me that I am a different goddamn breed. I’ll chew him up, spit him out, make him a start before leaving him in the dust just like I’m doing with Robert Main at Relentless.”


The sheer confidence exuded by CCP is almost enough to make you want to reach through your television and slap him yourself.


” As far as my role in this war that’s allegedly coming?”


There’s a smirk on Page’s face before he answers.


” I can give two shits. I don’t have a role because this isn’t anything more than a pissing contest between two companies. I have but one obligation, just one small commitment by taking my ass back down to OCW territory a week from Monday Night. Once I destroy this piece of enhancement talent I will happily step to the side and watch this shit show unfold. The result isn’t in question on the XWF reigning supreme the only modern marvel to ponder is how many OCW chumps are going to be sacrificed along the way.”


” Last OCW related question; what are your thoughts about the invasion they are threatening for Relentless?”


” First of all, it is pretty stupid to announce your coming. Did they not learn anything from Theo’s appearance on their program? You strike when it’s not expected. So, this is an amateur hour when it comes to OCW and the level of intelligence they possess. Second, they can invade Relentless if they choose; however, it’s not going to end well. The reality is when it comes to Relentless, I have too much at stake to allow myself to be distracted by outside events for that doesn’t make me any better than Robert Main, and we all know Robert can’t and won’t hold a candle to what I got going on.”


” For argument's sake; what if this goes to the third night between you and Main? With XWF careers on the line, it doesn’t get bigger for either of you.”


” Going into night three with me is a pipe dream at best. I get a lot of shit for being older than most but it doesn’t change the fact that Chris Page draws money. I can be Terry Borden’s age and still outwrestled ninety percent of the population today. Foolish people seem to think that just because I am older then I can’t still go, and for those who think under that deluded logic might I suggest that you tune into Relentless. Throw that money down to your cable provider, watch for yourself, and then you tell me if Chris Page’s age has a damn thing to do with stealing the fucking show. OCW versus XWF is an afterthought, and as sure as I am sitting here talking to you is just as sure as I am that the moment Relentless 2021 leaves the air the talk of the town isn’t going to be Alias versus Doctor D’Ville; oh no, the talk of the wrestling world will be locked on the fact that the real GOAT of Professional Wrestling is back on top of the wrestling world.”


” I’ll give you this, you’re certainly exuding confidence for sure.”


” What’s not to be confident about? I’m trashing a guy that has been a thorn in my side, eliminating him from the equation. The only thing I feel bad about is ending Robert before he grew some nuts and tangled with Thunder Knuckles, but it’s not like that would happen because Robert will go the other fucking direction quicker than a fart in the wind.”


” Is there anything you’d like to say before we wrap this up?”


Chris directs his attention back towards the camera.


” Robert, I know over the last several weeks you’ve suffered a huge blow to your personal life with the loss of your father. For most people, I might even have a little sympathy, but for you, that sympathy doesn’t exist. You deserve every bit of pain, every bit of suffering you’re experiencing because you sir aren’t anything more than a fucking punk. You’ve treated people like shit, you’ve put yourself up on a pedestal, and you’ve been living under this false narrative that you mean something to this federation but more importantly to this profession. The XWF flourished while you were laid up in a hospital for three months, and the moment you came back the bitching started all over again. What’s that tell you? It should tell you that come this weekend I’m doing the XWF a goddamn favor when I snatch your career away from you for it’s about time for you to take your tired, stale shit anywhere else anyone will have you.”


Chris's side-eyes towards Steve.


” I hear OCW’s looking.”


Chris cuts his eyes back towards the camera.


” Don’t you dare step in front of a camera and be even more cliche by dedicating it to your father; you’ve already been a disappointment when he was alive… don’t be disappointed in his death too. You cannot afford any more mistakes, and for fucks sake can you PLEASE cut a promo that’s not a carbon copy of 2019? Just try it for once.”


Chris winks at the camera.


” I’ll see you soon.”


The camera focuses on Steve.


” There you have it, ladies and gentleman. For Chris Page, I am Steve Sayors saying good night, and we will see you at Relentless in Chicago.”


Static.
]]> Culmination: The Final Chapter.


Jessica and I were Relentless bound where we made several stops along the way. Popped a rating for the backyard federation down in Key West, came back up through Kentucky, and now we are Chicago bound in mid-flight. We find CCP and Jessica on the couch watching television; nothing special, her headrests in his lap while she lays across the couch with his left arm draped across her shoulder.


Jessica: What’s on your mind?


Jess can always tell when something isn’t right. It’s like her spidey senses start tingling.


” Oh a little bit of this and a little bit of that.”


The vagueness from Chris doesn’t sit well with Jess as she spouts back.


Jessica: No let’s not be specific or anything.”


With that Chris picks up the remote to the television and mutes it before laying the remote back down on the end table.


” Fine, let’s get specific. I don’t know how I feel about what transpired Monday Night. That mother fucker put his nasty, grubby hands on you; I can deal with them taking shots at me, no problem. The more and more I think about it I realize that they wanted to get a reaction. Let’s not do that. OCW is a scrub fed with dismal talent.”


OCW had my appearance on their programming ALL wrong. I knew when we walked through that back door right past Barney Fife they hired to stand guard that things were going to get ugly. I was an outsider showing up uninvited really and truly to accept this little challenge that’s been thrown at my feet by young Bam Miller.

Management within OCW legit had to stack the deck against me.

The moment I saw the news that XWF talent was barred from the building unless they’re in the ring I knew exactly what I needed to do. I did what others wouldn’t.

I accepted that challenge, marched to that ring, and said what I needed to say. Then the cavalry decided to show up and save you, Bam. That’s right, they saved you from further embarrassing yourself for you have no concept of who the fuck I am, and are under this delusion that you can say whatever you think sounds good.

You’re going to make my job easier than I expected.


” They’re going to learn the hard way.”


Jessica: I wouldn’t worry too much about myself. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Let them have their moment because to them it was the be-all-end-all. You and I both know that we could snap their necks at any time.”


” That’s a very good point.”


Jessica raises her head from Chris’s lap before sitting upright, she slides back against the far side armrest where she can look across at Chris as they continue.


Jessica: You said it best when labeling them as dismal. We have bigger fish to fry and you can’t allow yourself to get distracted headed into this weekend, babe. You need to be solely focused on dealing with Robert and sending him on his way, permanently.”


I wish I could say I was surprised by the last-minute showings of Robert Main leading into the biggest weekend of his career. I mean the dude is a lost cause right now; he’s mentally broken, he’s questioning himself on if he made the right decision by throwing out XWF career versus career for his is on the cusp of reaching its climactic end.


” I feel like giving Robert any more of my time is seemingly pointless. He’s done nothing different this go around like he’s done every other one. He waits until the final hours to open his goddamn mouth showing the world that he NEEDS me to lead him along the way. It’s goddamn embarrassing if I was him right now.”


You’d think that Robert might open his mouth sooner rather than later but instead of further exploiting his near-silence like the bitch that he is I am going to move forward. Robert Main isn’t ready for CCP. He wants you to all believe that admitting his failures is someone going to alleviate, going to distract you all from the fact that by admitting he’s a shell of his former self is VALIDATING exactly what the fuck I have been saying about him since day goddamn one.


” The only thing left to say about Main is that unlike wasting my time back at Leap of Faith I am guaranteed to get something more out of this than a cheap win. He’s got nothing to fall back on for this, he has no one to blame for any of this but himself. It’s all going to start Friday Night before ending on Saturday Night once and for all.”


Robert I am begging you to show the world that there’s a sliver of that old Robert Main that gives a flying fuck about what he’s doing comes out to play because thus far this has been easier than taking candy from a baby as the saying goes. I don’t think I’ve been more disappointed in you than I am here and now. I mean it’s not like you haven’t had MONTHS to prepare yourself for this. Let’s not pretend we didn’t foresee this collision course following Leap of Faith, so to say you didn’t have the time is bullshit.

You’re the same lazy fuck that you always have been.

You’re the same over-hyped turd I’ve pegged you for since Day One.

You’re so far into deep waters only to realize you can’t fucking swim.

You’re an embarrassment to yourself and your goddamn family.


Jessica: You have played him like a freaking fiddle for sure.”


” Don’t get me wrong, I assume he will wait until his final hours to try and pull the nose up like a bitch.”


Jessica: Even if he does, it’s not like it matters at this point because this dude is so much of a lost cause he makes C**ver look like a saint.”


” I don’t know about all that, but I see your point.”


Jessica: If the shoe fits.


One thing for certain when it comes to punk ass Main. Nobody and I means nobody is more looking forward to driving the final nail in the coffin on this feud. It’s a rare thing to have something ongoing as LONG as this has gone; some might say go on too long, and while I’ll agree that this issue needs to be put to bed once and for all can’t anybody say that this hasn’t been entertaining.

Nobody can say that we haven’t lit shit up more times than I care to count.

Nobody can say that we aren’t worthy of the position that we find ourselves in; well, at least myself. Opening up all three nights of Relentless, or being scheduled too, means that I am the guy that’s going to set the fucking pace for the nights. I couldn’t ask for a higher honor than to be the best thing anyone is going to see and everything else spiral downhill.

Nothing is going to touch what I am bringing to the table.


” You can’t polish a turd because it’s still a turd.”


Jessica laughs at the statement made by Chris as he shifts topics.


” I have been thinking a lot about what’s next for me in regards to wrestling. I can safely say that I have accomplished everything that I’ve set out to. The final piece to my equation was that Universal Title. Since that’s been scratched off the bucket list I don’t have a whole hell of a lot left to do other than end Robert’s career and stomp the piss out of Bam Miller. I was telling you before that I’ve got my eyes locked on a couple of people I want to bring into my mix.”


Jessica: Fucking finally, some answers!


Chris smirks at the sarcasm from Jessica before flipping her the bird on his right hand. She gasps before throwing up both middle fingers back at Page.


” You promise?”


Jessica: You ass.


Chris lowers his middle finger winking at Jessica as she lowers both of hers.


” I’ve been watching several pieces of talent, all of which have something to offer when it comes to what I am wanting to build; and this time what I am going to build has jackshit to do with me but everything to do with the people that are getting involved. We got this OCW versus XWF nonsense that’s brewing, right?”


Jessica: Yeah.


” Here’s what I am thinking because you know that the logic is for people to pick a side from fans to even talent alike. What if we offered another side that isn’t OCW and that isn’t the XWF?”


Jessica: I don’t follow.


” I am wanting to assemble a group of talent that can kick the shit out of both companies. Go big or go home.”


Jessica: Who might be on that list?”


The million-dollar question is if there ever was one in a profession that has endless talent all at various points within their careers especially in the age where all you have to do is @ someone on Twitter or other social media outlets. I see endless potential while not only observing XWF but also Fight NYC for example, or what about Project Honor just to name a few? The depth of promotions around the globe shall become my oyster.

Yet when thinking about this possible concept there is only one place to look first.


” You might call me crazy…”


Jessica: I won’t guarantee that I won’t.”


” Here goes nothing…”


What should be pointed out initially is the reasoning behind approaching this individual first. It’s no secret I’ve been around three days longer than the dinosaurs but what makes getting older, yet still being able to compete at a world-class level is you get opportunities to deal with younger generations. Every once in a while you know when someone has it versus others that do not.


Jessica: Well?


” I am going to approach Thaddeus Duke this weekend.”


Without hesitation Jessica spouts out.


Jessica: That’s fucking crazy.”


... TO BE CONTINUED.




The Interview:


The scene opens with XWF journalist Steve Sayors sitting down with one “Chronic” Chris Page at an undisclosed interview set. Both men sit in two comfy chairs with Chris wearing his long hair tied back into a ponytail while dressed casually for this appearance.


” Ladies and gentlemen welcome to another XWF exclusive interview with none other than Chris Page.”


Steve turns his attention towards CCP as he opens up the interview.


” We are just days away from Relentless 2021 kicking off in Chicago. The three-day event has delivered so many memorable moments within the history of the XWF, and this year isn’t going to be an exception. On a night in which the stakes are high across the board, they couldn’t be any higher than they are for you and Robert Main when you consider your XWF careers are on the line.”[blue]


Chris simply nods his head as Steve continues.


[blue]” We’ve got a lot to talk about today, Chris. The first place to start is how are you feeling as Relentless is vastly approaching.”


” I feel great because to me this is just another day at the office. I don’t get enthralled with stipulations like my XWF career being on the line for it only serves as a distraction. Take when Robert added this stipulation into the mix on Warfare for example; how desperate does one have to be to try and change the game on the way into the biggest event the XWF has ever had? This dude is dumb enough to think anything he has to say or anything he wants to add to this contest is going to detract from every truth that has been spoken out against him.”


” Coming into Relentless you and Robert Main are scheduled for a Three Stages of Hell Match with one fall taking place each night throughout the weekend. You are certainly no stranger to competing across the board at Relentless, do you think it will give you an advantage?”


” I don’t need an advantage over Robert… Let's get that straight here and now. Robert by his admission is a broken shell of what he once was. It’s about time he finally admitted to himself what the rest of the world has known for two years. Robert hasn’t been about shit since 2019 without ole Chris Page leading him by the hand, and now suddenly he realizes it. Good for him. It’s about time he stops living with his head up his ass and starts living in the real world. As far as having an advantage because I did compete on all three nights of Relentless last year? Who the fuck cares about last year? This is here and now.”


Chris abruptly states.


” We all know what has brought us this far, we all know the road that has to lead us to this point and this one weekend where it’s all on the line. Let’s talk about that versus anything else for it is why we’re here.”


” Robert was allowed to name the first stipulation for Friday Night’s match; it’s an Ironman Match in which for sixty minutes you and Main will tangle. Where’s your head at with this first fall?”


A smirk from Chris appears on his face before he responds.


” That Robert can’t even name a stipulation without stealing from Thad.”


Chris chuckles under his breath before quickly correcting himself.


” I kid, I kid… my true thoughts on him naming an Ironman Match is intelligence has never been Robert’s strong suit. It’s never been more evident than with this selection of his stipulation for Night One. I’ve already spoken at length with my intentions to use Relentless weekend as nothing more than to add to the embarrassment that is Robert Main’s existence.”


Chris states with a direct tone of voice as he looks directly across at Steve.


” The past has led us to this one intersecting moment in which it’s either going to be worth all the bullshit or it isn’t. That’s what this Relentless weekend boils down to too me. We kick start this thing by going sixty minutes, and here Robert was thinking that he did himself a favor but all he’s managed to do was seal his fucking fate. The entire concept of an Ironman Match is to score the most falls in the sixty-minute time limit, right?”


” Correct.”


” Now the point I’ve previously made stems around the structure of the rules versus the stipulation for the weekend. You would think that if your XWF career is on the line you wouldn’t put your own goddamn back against the wall opposite the very man that is responsible for putting the plan into motion that nearly fucking killed you; you wouldn’t raise the stakes for the entire event first and foremost, taking it a step further it doesn’t seem like the smartest idea to trap yourself with the very prick that can utilize every minute to inflict pain and suffering the likes you’ve never seen before, and it doesn’t seem like a bright idea to put yourself at risk to MISS the rest of the weekend.”


Chris rolls his eyes as he continues with a bit of sarcasm.


” Yeah Steve, we got ourselves a real rocket scientist in our midst.”


Chris states as he lightly just sakes his head in disbelief.


” Theoretically; if I were to, I don’t know, render him incapable of completing the rest of the weekend then night two and three become forfeits and I take his career. If I elect not to murder him on live television, and somehow he does make it Night Two it ends at Night two. He isn’t winning a goddamn thing unless I want him to. Now, I want you to think about that for just a second, and if you’re Robert Main you’re walking into Night One with a cracked fucking skull. Any match he steps in he’s at risk, more risk than anyone else in the ring.”


Steve interjects.


” Let me ask you this then; since you’re so confident that Night One is yours, what is the stipulation for Night Two? If it ends in two like you’ve made it known, what’s the match you end Robert’s career?


” Well that’s easy.”


Chris casually responds.


” No Holds Barred.”


There’s a nod of approval from Chris as he continues with his statement.


” Bear in mind this is all hypothetical that he even medically cleared to walk down the aisle of course.”


” Chris why do you have this deep-rooted disdain for Robert? With everything we’ve seen over the years, this is by far the epitome of a blood feud.”


” Where the hell do I start? Is how he throws his nose up at the world? Could it be how in his eyes he once was the greatest thing since sliced bread; but Steve, Robert is walking into this already a broken man. It’s taken him all this time for the realization to set in that he has been nothing more than a long-term placeholder. This cock smoker legit thinks that even back in 2019 that he was responsible for the boom the XWF underwent, he is under this false delusion that he means something more than a fucking punchline now. It took some time, it took a lot of planning but what you have all witnessed over the last two-plus years is the definition of what sticking to a plan brings you. Do you think it was by luck that our road has led us back to where it was supposed to end initially at Relentless?”


A cocky tilt of the head from Chris as he holds up his right hand cutting off Steve before he can respond.


” Every step has been carefully thought out, and with the loss of his father now in the mix, you can’t sit in front of me and tell me that he is focused on dealing with me on the grandest stage XWF has to offer. He opened his mouth and inserted his foot yet again like he ALWAYS has done, the difference this time I’m here to pull his punk card. I have spoken at length over the last week or so about our past, our present, and now it’s our future. For Robert, his future looks bleak as fuck. Unlike Mr. Main, I have been plotting and planning his execution. There’s not a goddamn person in this or any universe that is walking into Relentless for Robert Main more prepared than I am. That's a fact that is undisputed on all fronts.”


” Don’t you think that you’ve done enough to Robert?”


” Brother there’s no such thing as enough when it comes to ruining the life of Mr. Main. He’s had this coming for a very long time. The exception this time around is he doesn’t have Apex to prop himself up with, he doesn’t have his friends to carry him to victory like they did a few weeks back on Warfare, he doesn’t have anyone to rely on but himself. Where he is going to fuck up beyond repair is by being that broken fucking record that he’s always been. When was the last time we’ve heard some original smack talk from him? You’ve seen his promos leading to this, right? Tell me if he has said anything that he didn’t say heading into Leap of Faith OR regurgitated from 2019? It’s the same propaganda in a different year. He’s fallen into the same trap that he would get so pissed off over when people are that lame they can’t be creative enough to spit original shit. Listening to Robert talk shit is about as pointless as OCW invading the XWF.”


There’s a scoff from Chris Page.


” Nobody is more ready to move on from Robert than I am, and now that opportunity has finally come full circle.”


” Let’s talk about your career for a moment. You’ve been in the business for thirty years. You’ve won countless championships, and as motivated as you are to defeat Robert Main; what if Robert defeats you and ends your XWF career?”


” Hell has a better chance of freezing over, but I know it’s your job to play both sides of the coin so I’ll entertain this question. If, and that’s a BIG if, Robert can defeat me I will walk away from the XWF as an in-ring competitor fully upholding my end of the contract we have signed. When you’ve been around as long as I have you come to understand that everyone has an expiration date even Chris Page. It doesn’t change that I will go down as one of the greats to ever lace a pair of goddamn boots. Eighteen major championships headlined every major sporting arena or stadium around the world and continued to run circles around people less than half my age. I don’t know about you brother, but those are some solid accomplishments if I do say so myself.”


” There are some talks ongoing that you have left BOB…”


Chris quickly interjects.


” What does that have to do with anything?”


” Chris, don’t be coy. We all know you are a master manipulator, you pulled this with Alias a few weeks ago citing BOB’s open-door policy. Are the rumors true? Will you speak on them?”


” When it comes to BOB I wish them the best of luck in their endeavors. It’s been a long time coming as I have sat back and watched things unfold. BOB doesn’t need me and I sure as hell don’t need them. Now, what I am not going to do is sit here and slam them because as you know Miss Fury and I are a thing, and even if we weren't that isn’t good business. We are going to see if that open-door policy is a real thing or is it bullshit. For the record, I withdrew from BOB for my reasons that I will fully get into at a later time.``


” What does Miss Fury think about it all?


” None of your concern.”


There’s an awkward pause from Steve.


” Um, okay. You mentioned OCW earlier, and earlier this week you appeared on OCW Television that didn’t exactly see you standing on your own feet.”


Chris snickers under his breath before he responds.


” Ya know there’s a lot of talk about this “war” that’s brewing between OCW and the XWF. Like it’s the XWF’s fault they’ve contracted better talent that can flourish within ANY federation at any time. Look right now for example; Thad Duke is rocking two belts, the Bastards are rocking two belts, Betsy has one of their Championships while their “homegrown” talents wouldn’t know a legitimate Main Event if they were booked in it over in OCW. I did show up on their program Monday Night alongside Miss Fury to confront Bam Miller. It’s safe to say he got owned within that exchange, and I granted him what he’s been asking for… a chance to brush up with the greatness that is Chris Page.”


There’s a very brief pause from Chris Page as he contemplates his next words before he states.


” OCW Management made a point to ban half of their champions from appearing over this petty nonsense by citing if they aren’t in the ring they aren’t on the show. I elected to get into that toilet they call a wrestling ring alongside, stood across the ring from that chump, pretty much told them this is a losing battle, and then what? They brought out the ENTIRE roster to get the dupe on little ole me and my gal.”


Chris starts a sarcastic golf clap while spouting out.


” Very impressive.”


Chris stops his golf clap as he lowers his hands while continuing.


” But hey, what more can you expect from a half-assed wrestling promotion that needs to leech off the XWF’s status to garner the slimmest of attention. Fuck man, who all has belts? The Bastards, Thad, Betsy, and goddamn Dolly are in title contention matches at the next dismal failure that they call a Pay-Per-View. It’s gotta suck to be under contract with OCW when half their belts are being carried by the part-time talent that are getting astronomical payoffs. It’s smart for The Bastards, Thad, and Betsy to carry their belts while lining their pockets for more green, and the OCW, in general, are suckers for being stupid enough to agree to such terms. Is this a company that is going to stand toe to toe with the names I’ve just mentioned? Fuck no.”


” You mentioned The Bastards, Thad, Betsy, and Dolly; while it's established what their roles are within OCW, for example, the Bastards are the Tag Champions, Thad is the Savage Champion… What exactly is your role in all this? Why did you even appear on their show in the first place?”


” Allow me to answer the second part first.”


” By all means.”


” I knew by showing up down in Key West, and the moment I stepped foot on that death trap they called an entrance I was lending credibility to their product; I mean let’s face it, it’s not every day you get someone with the drawing power of a Chris Page in OCW. I was okay with popping the biggest rating they have seen the moment news traveled that the real GOAT of Professional Wrestling was standing in that ring instead of warming the chair behind a fucking desk in a corner office.”


Chris slowly turns his head directly towards the camera, his blue eyes locked firmly on the lens.


” High James, did you miss me?”


Chris turns his attention across to Steve.


” Showed up because that Miller cunt can’t stop bothering me on Twitter. It’s one thing to try and play Billy Badass behind a keyboard, and much like he found out when he was standing in the ring with me that I am a different goddamn breed. I’ll chew him up, spit him out, make him a start before leaving him in the dust just like I’m doing with Robert Main at Relentless.”


The sheer confidence exuded by CCP is almost enough to make you want to reach through your television and slap him yourself.


” As far as my role in this war that’s allegedly coming?”


There’s a smirk on Page’s face before he answers.


” I can give two shits. I don’t have a role because this isn’t anything more than a pissing contest between two companies. I have but one obligation, just one small commitment by taking my ass back down to OCW territory a week from Monday Night. Once I destroy this piece of enhancement talent I will happily step to the side and watch this shit show unfold. The result isn’t in question on the XWF reigning supreme the only modern marvel to ponder is how many OCW chumps are going to be sacrificed along the way.”


” Last OCW related question; what are your thoughts about the invasion they are threatening for Relentless?”


” First of all, it is pretty stupid to announce your coming. Did they not learn anything from Theo’s appearance on their program? You strike when it’s not expected. So, this is an amateur hour when it comes to OCW and the level of intelligence they possess. Second, they can invade Relentless if they choose; however, it’s not going to end well. The reality is when it comes to Relentless, I have too much at stake to allow myself to be distracted by outside events for that doesn’t make me any better than Robert Main, and we all know Robert can’t and won’t hold a candle to what I got going on.”


” For argument's sake; what if this goes to the third night between you and Main? With XWF careers on the line, it doesn’t get bigger for either of you.”


” Going into night three with me is a pipe dream at best. I get a lot of shit for being older than most but it doesn’t change the fact that Chris Page draws money. I can be Terry Borden’s age and still outwrestled ninety percent of the population today. Foolish people seem to think that just because I am older then I can’t still go, and for those who think under that deluded logic might I suggest that you tune into Relentless. Throw that money down to your cable provider, watch for yourself, and then you tell me if Chris Page’s age has a damn thing to do with stealing the fucking show. OCW versus XWF is an afterthought, and as sure as I am sitting here talking to you is just as sure as I am that the moment Relentless 2021 leaves the air the talk of the town isn’t going to be Alias versus Doctor D’Ville; oh no, the talk of the wrestling world will be locked on the fact that the real GOAT of Professional Wrestling is back on top of the wrestling world.”


” I’ll give you this, you’re certainly exuding confidence for sure.”


” What’s not to be confident about? I’m trashing a guy that has been a thorn in my side, eliminating him from the equation. The only thing I feel bad about is ending Robert before he grew some nuts and tangled with Thunder Knuckles, but it’s not like that would happen because Robert will go the other fucking direction quicker than a fart in the wind.”


” Is there anything you’d like to say before we wrap this up?”


Chris directs his attention back towards the camera.


” Robert, I know over the last several weeks you’ve suffered a huge blow to your personal life with the loss of your father. For most people, I might even have a little sympathy, but for you, that sympathy doesn’t exist. You deserve every bit of pain, every bit of suffering you’re experiencing because you sir aren’t anything more than a fucking punk. You’ve treated people like shit, you’ve put yourself up on a pedestal, and you’ve been living under this false narrative that you mean something to this federation but more importantly to this profession. The XWF flourished while you were laid up in a hospital for three months, and the moment you came back the bitching started all over again. What’s that tell you? It should tell you that come this weekend I’m doing the XWF a goddamn favor when I snatch your career away from you for it’s about time for you to take your tired, stale shit anywhere else anyone will have you.”


Chris's side-eyes towards Steve.


” I hear OCW’s looking.”


Chris cuts his eyes back towards the camera.


” Don’t you dare step in front of a camera and be even more cliche by dedicating it to your father; you’ve already been a disappointment when he was alive… don’t be disappointed in his death too. You cannot afford any more mistakes, and for fucks sake can you PLEASE cut a promo that’s not a carbon copy of 2019? Just try it for once.”


Chris winks at the camera.


” I’ll see you soon.”


The camera focuses on Steve.


” There you have it, ladies and gentleman. For Chris Page, I am Steve Sayors saying good night, and we will see you at Relentless in Chicago.”


Static.
]]> <![CDATA[The Haunted Chronicles of Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41929 Wed, 22 Sep 2021 13:01:17 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41929
##Desperate times may
Call for desperate measures
You’ll see what I mean##


-Part 3-
“A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME”

I went over notes until sundown and came up with an agenda. Out of the couple of “leads” given to me from Miss Cotton, I decided that I’d check out the bar Miss Fury ran first. The only other one was Big Money Oswald, the leader of the Bob, and, if I had the guts, check out the local police and see what they know… Even if Pryce had his hands in it.

On the back of the photo of Miss Fury there was a message that Miss Cotton didn’t bother pointing out before, assuming she was the one who wrote it.

“Join Bob?” I ask out loud.

I stacked all of the photographs together and stuffed them into my jacket pocket before leaving. It wasn’t a long walk to the bar and fairly easy to find. The little city was set up like a grid with the tower looming off in the background by itself. When I got there, the place looked a lot newer than the rest of town. It was a red brick building with no windows and neon lights that stretched all the way across and all around it.

“‘Scorched Earth - Bar and Lounge… NO. EXIT.’” I read aloud. “Heh. Hmm. Catchy.”

I walked up to the door and reached for the handle until I noticed a sign to my right that said to knock first. With my fist, I gave it three solid knocks. A slider in the door about eye level opened up swiftly which made me jump and I saw two eyes peering out at me. The beady eyes narrowed and looked me up and down.

“Got the password?” A deep voice bellowed through the hole.

“Password?”

The little slider slammed shut.

“Password???” I thought out loud to myself again.

I searched through my pockets and pulled out the photograph of Miss Fury and flipped it over. Again I gave the door three more solid knocks and the slider swiftly opened again. This time, I’m met with two angry eyes staring at me.

“Beat it.” The deep voice bellowed through the hole once more.

“Join. Bob.” I blurted out before he could slam the little door shut again.

I heard the latch from inside and then the door opened up. I recognized the guard immediately… Anyone that has had anything to do with the XWF for the last twenty years would have recognized Barney Green. He recognized me, too.

“What brings you back, Detective?” He said as we met in the doorway.

“I’m not a detective anymore, Mister Green. Remember?”

I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not. He didn’t acknowledge whether he did or didn’t.

“I’m just here on business, Barney.” I said

“Heh, heh, heh.”

“Something funny?”

“Nope.” He sneered and one of his eyes veered off… “I was just thinking of a joke I heard earlier.”

I tried to squeeze by him but I couldn’t. He took up a lot more than just the doorway.

“Mind if I head in now?”

After a big step to the side I’m allowed through into a large foyer with two other doors. There was one unmarked to my right and the one I headed for straight ahead marked “Lounge”.

“Good to see ya again, Barney.”

“Well, well, well….”

I stopped and looked back to see him staring outside the door at something. Another piercing shot rang through my head. It blurred my vision and then the stabbing pain returned to my stomach.

“What…. The fuck…. Is wrong with me…..” I’m not sure in my head whether I thought that or said it aloud. I felt like I was going to vomit and pass out… I stumbled into the door and crawled through it to the lounge.

When I got inside the aroma of stale beer and smoke took over my senses and the pain was gone. The place looked a lot bigger than it did on the outside. A large stairway took me down to the floor where dozens of dining tables were placed sporadically in no special order and most were occupied with someone. From what I could tell, there wasn’t a seat open in the house. To the side was another, shorter set of steps that led up to the bar and ahead of everything was the stage where everyone seemed to have their focus. Ever forward. Rather than looking for an open seat among the masses I decided to head towards the bar.

I took a seat on a stool and lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, like it was part of her entrance, the bartender slowly ascended from behind the bar. She had a very dark aura about her. Her skin was pale and her puckered, velvet lips formed around to a smirk as she slithered my way across the bar. She was the woman in the photograph. This was Miss Fury.

“What’s your poison, stranger?” She said with a low, soothing voice.

She looked just like she did in the picture, too. From the outfit to the way she did her make up that day.

“Just a cranberry juice, thanks.”

She took a step back then leaned back in.

"Booo! Are you sure? We have a special running on Doc Light tonight!"

"Doc…. Light?" My tongue twisted on the D word.

"Mmmhm. The Stale Ale. Like the original with no substance, but tons of filler! Great for those who can't handle the real thing."

"I think I'll stick with the cranberry juice, thanks…"

"Suit yourself…."

She creepily lowered away behind the bar again, but I ignored the theatrics. I turned away and leaned with my back against the bar looking out to the lounge. I noticed a few that couldn’t take their eyes off of me and probably called it “stranger danger”, but I kind of expected that. I didn’t recognize half of them either. Those that know me know that I was around during a very dark time in the XWF and those that don’t simply don’t trust me. As big as it may seem, the place holds together like glue if it has to and will eradicate and purge anyone and anything that threatens their little city.

I recognized Big Money sitting away from the crowd at a table in the corner. He sat silently with his Bebop and Rocksteady-looking bodyguards to each side yacking back and forth to each other. What did she call them? Mother fuckers? I debated whether now would be a good time to introduce myself as Miss Fury reemerged from behind the bar with my drink. She smiled so wide that it made me uncomfortable as she served me and I forced half a smile of my own accompanied with a small nod as I paid. From below, a scrawny, young, handsome-boyish looking guy trotted up the steps towards the bar and slid an empty bottle across it.

“Another?” Fury asked, barely giving the boy a look and staying fixed on me.

“Hell yeah! It’s my jam!” He squealed.

In one motion, Fury took the empty and replaced it with a full bottle. The bottle said, ‘Doc Light - The Stale Ale.’ A millisecond after she removed the cap for him the bottle was to his lips and he was sucking more down.

“Good stuff?” I asked him.

“Psh, yeah? It’s amazing.” He said in a bitchy, sarcastic tone then scampered off.

[Image: doclight2.png?width=404&height=473]


I watched him disappear into the crowd and when I looked back to Fury she was still staring at me with big, dark eyes. I took a sip from my drink and met her half way with a stare of my own.

“So you got a name, stranger?” The light voice from before got a little deeper.

“Trevor Dedntik.” I nodded. “Are you the owner of this place? Are you Miss Fury?”

“Myahahuhuhu!”

While unnecessary, it was a perfect evil laugh none the less.

“I am! Miss Fury at your service, Trevor Dedntik!” She bows.

“Do you suppose it would be alright if I asked you some questions?” I ask very politely.

“You’ve already asked me two questions, sir! Mhmhmhmhm…”

I thought I was getting another evil laugh, but I was denied.

“I would like to ask you about the disappearance of Vinnie---”

I’m interrupted when, suddenly, the lights dimmed in the whole place and a spotlight shined on the stage.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The show’s about to start. Your questions will have to wait.” She whispers.

“I’d rather just get through this if you don’t---”

I’m interrupted when Miss Fury turns me around to face the stage where the letters A-T-A-R-A lit up with flames then turned to ash as the curtain dropped to reveal the band and one of the most beautiful dame I’ve ever laid my eyes on.



[Image: zJAb8g0.gif]

She was another I didn’t recognize, but the way she looked up my way during her song made me feel like she did. I looked throughout the seating area and every single person was mesmerized by the music. She removed the microphone from the stand and carried it with her as she walked around the tables and sang her pretty song to everyone.

“Who? Is that?” I asked leaning further back to Fury leaning into the bar with her head on her hands.

“That’s Atara…” She sighs….

“Wow… She works here, huh?”

“It’s complicated, actually. But, yes.”

The dame eventually made her way up the steps towards me at the bar. She took a quick seat on my lap and nonchalantly slipped something into my inner jacket pocket without anyone noticing then got up and made her way back to the stage.
Fury and I watched the rest of the performance, well, at least I thought we did. When the lights came back on and the band went off on their little finale to a standing ovation from the crowd, I turned to face her again and she was gone from behind the bar.

“Hey! Where’d you go?” I asked myself.

I turned around again and there she was standing on the stage holding the microphone.

“Let’s hear it one last time for the beautiful…. Atara!!!”

For a show these folks probably see often, they sure give it up for it. I pulled what was a little piece of paper out of my jacket that she placed in there. I unfolded it and it read:

WATCH YOUR BACK DOVE

“I would like to take a moment and welcome someone back to the XWF… Someone who is a stranger to most of you, but an old acquaintance at most to others….”

I had hardly paid attention to what Miss Fury was saying as I pondered on the note and before I knew it I was blinded by the spotlight. From the stage, Fury aimed a long, neon green pointed finger directly at me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome back Detective Trevor Dedntik! Take a bow Detective” Her voice shrieks with joy but there is no applause that follows. Not even crickets.

I couldn’t see the reaction because I was still blinded by the spotlight pointed at me. I hold a hand up to block the light and there isn’t a single face in the crowd that looks welcoming at all. Miss Fury, on the other hand, I don’t think has quit smiling since I walked through the front doors. I don’t know what she was trying to pull here, but I didn’t like it. I was trying to stay low profile, but that didn’t last long at all. If Fury was this crazy, why would Miss Cotton send me to her right away? Not that I had any cover to begin with, I was planning on meeting most of these bozos at some point, but not like this.

“Don’t be shy Detective!”

Relentless.

I gave her what she wanted, I stood up and gave a wave. Then, instead of sticking around any longer I decided I should probably take my leave for now. I’ll get something out of Fury later, but for now, I think I should leave the masses and see everyone I can individually. The spotlight did finally leave me as Fury began to speak again.

“Alright, well, that’s our show! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!!”

All of the lights in the place come on at once and everyone seems to have expected this as their tabs are paid, drinks are finished, and coats are nearly buttoned. As everyone began to flood towards the one EXIT, I decided to take my own path and cut through a door beside the bar. I find myself in a completely empty kitchen, wondering for a half-second where the hell everyone was, I just stormed through looking for a different way out. At the end of the kitchen and through the small storage room there it was! I pushed out through the door into an alleyway behind the building. I didn’t take two steps before a long black limo pulled up in front of me and two familiar large men stepped out from each side and stood side by side in front of me. I pulled a cigarette out from my box and lit it.

“Bebop.” I looked at Bobby Bourbon. “Rocksteady.” I look at the Thunder Knuckles.

“Ninja Turtles, huh?” Bourbon said as he looked over to Thunder Knuckles.

“Eh..” Said TK as he gave a one of a kind hand jerking motion. “I’ll accept that.”

“The boss wants to see you.”

“Well, we could arrange a meeting…. I was planning on getting in touch with him anyw--” I’m interrupted when the two of them grab me under each arm and throw me into the back. They piled in and sat on each side of me across from Big Money Oswald. He stared at me without saying a word for a few very uncomfortable moments. He looked to his two cronies to the side who are basically sitting on top of me…. Which added some physical uncomfortability on top of it…

“Boys… Give the detective some space. It looks like he’s suffocating for fuck sake.”

Oswald had a deep, gentle voice that still shook the earth. The two men obeyed their boss and skootched over a couple of inches to give me at least room to breathe. Oswald continues to stare at me with a sad look on his face.

“Is that better?” He asked.

I just nodded.

He sat silently some more until he let out a long breath and finally spoke.

“What brings you to my beautiful town, Detective… Dedntik, is it?”

I maneuvered a bit to free my arms. My cigarette got lost sometime during the abduction.

“Well, first of all, I’m no longer a detective, Mister Oswald.”

His facial expression didn’t change.

“No? Miss Fury wouldn’t be spreading misinformation, would she?”

Again, his face remained stone cold and the tone of his voice never changed.

“Misunderstood information, maybe. I’m more of a freelancer these days.”

He scratched his beard and nodded slowly at my answer.

“I’ve been hired to look into the disappearance of Vinnie Lane. You know anything about that?”

I was lucky to get the last word out before I got two huge elbows to each side of my ribcage that left me breathless.

“Big Money Oswald is the one asking questions here, bitch!” Said TK.

“Yeah! You just focus on answering those questions!”

“Boys, boys… Please. We’re here to have a discussion and, so far, Mister Dedntik has been very respectful and cooperative. Let’s not get carried away.”

I don’t know which one, but one of them grabbed me by the hair and straightened me up from being buckled over. Oswald still looked at me with a sad, compassionate look.

“Why is it that I have not heard about this? This disappearance of the Loverboy… of our leader.”

“Well, I think Theo Pryce is trying to cover things up. I caught up with him when I first got to town and he told me it was already looked into. To forget about it. To go home.”

“Could Pryce be trying to take over the XWF?” He said with no concern. His voice remained in the same, mellow tone that it started in.”

“I’m not sure. But he was very clear that he did not want me around.”

“Yet, you’re still here.”

I let out a sigh remembering how close I was to actually saying hell with all of this and going home. But I just didn’t have it in me to tell that girl to hit the road… Like I said, she seemed awfully desperate.

“Yes, I’m still here. I was hired to do a job and the reason most people come to me is because I don’t scare easy. It’s going to take a lot more than some suit pushing me around to get me to turn down work. Especially if that suit is a probable suspect.”

“Who hired you?”

“That’s classified.”

Like a reflex, I took two more elbows to my sides. Oswald held up a hand as if not to do that, but it was a little late.

“It’s understandable… I like that. Loyalty is very, very important. Loyalty to your brothers. Loyalty to your clients.” He said.

“It’s all part of the job.” I said still kind of gasping for air.

“It certainly is, I could use your services myself, you know.”

“Now, don’t fuckin' elbow me again, but I don’t take on more than a single job at a time. Conflict of interest a bit, ya know?”

The two henchmen didn’t like my answer, but Oswald managed to hold his hand up in time to stop the reaction.

“It will be nothing and you may even have an opportunity to get more information about your current case.”

“I get what you’re saying, but the answer is still no, I'm afraid. I have rules I gotta follow, ya know. You just said, loyalty to clients… This is all part of that.”

“Very well.” He said in a somehow deeper, more disappointed tone of voice. “Take my card in case you change your mind.”

"I'd be happy to work with you later on though, Mister Oswald. And if you have any information for me to help this along, by all means, don't hesitate to speak up. The quicker this is wrapped up and Vinnie Lane is back, the sooner I can assist you, sir."

He handed me his business card which wasn’t much at all. Just a phone number.
I could feel my eyebrow twitch as I pocketed it.

"I have a beeper... You... um.. Want the number in case---"

"That won't be necessary. I'll find you again if I need you."

He snapped his fingers twice and looked away from me. Like a couple of Dobermans acting on command, I was grabbed again from under my arms as TK pushed open the door and together the two of them shoved me out as the car was traveling down the road. I hit hard on the pavement very ungracefully. I tried doing something special to prevent injury and ended up worse than just letting things happen.






QUE SERA, SERA





I rolled to the curb where I hit my head and got some more sleep.




So, how long has the Patient been showing signs of distress?

About a week, Doctor.

How many days, my dear?

A committee of doctors and nurses sit around a long, rectangle table with the Doctor sitting at the head of it. He’s speaking with the nurse closest to him now.

Allow me to rephrase, on which day did the patient begin showing signs of distress?

Would you like me to read the full report, Doctor?

Please!

The nurse flips a few pages from the stack in front of her and reads from a few back.

Patient becomes frantic with uncontrollable, angry outbursts involving shouting and violence towards others.”

She coughs to clear her throat. The Doctor sits back in his chair and folds his arms as he listens.

Patient has refused participation in exams or sessions and has been verbally abusive to the staff.

Has shown signs of anger, agitation, irritability, restlessness, and depression.

Patient is socially awkward and harmful to others.

Attempts to segregate the Patient have been a success. Segregation process was completed on September 11th without incident and the Patient continues to be isolated.

Any signs of improvement?.

The Doctor smiles and chums up to the nurse who stacks her papers back neatly in a pile.

No signs of improvement, but the Patient appears content for the moment. They’ve made a few requests, which we’ve fulfilled.

What kind of requests?

The scene switches to the inside of the Patient’s room. The walls and floor are padded with the finest matting to prevent self harm, but even so, anyone who throws themselves against it enough times is going to hurt because the walls don’t budge either. He sits on the floor with his legs crossed staring at a television playing an old episode of XWF Monday Night Madness. He’s barely paying attention to the broadcast and focusing more on what’s on his lap. He’s scribbling onto a piece of tablet paper with a dull pencil.

[Image: 9RTKQtN.png?1]

All around the room there are papers scattered all around. Some are in piles and at least attempt to look organized, but it’s hardly believable in the mess he’s created.

The requests were not filled by my order, Doctor.

Yeah we’re back in the conference room of doctors and nurses.

Of course not. It was my order. I’ve been working with this patient for quite some time now and the timing of his state of mind certainly makes me ever so curious. I provided him with his desires because if he refuses to open up to us in our own ways then we shall allow him to in his own.

How would you like us to move forward, Doctor?

Continue your daily evaluations. I will prepare for a face to face, myself. It’s been a bit since we've had one of those.

I would advise against that, Doctor. The Patient’s current unpredictable behavior and his violent outbursts doesn’t make it safe.

I understand, nurse, but when the day comes the Patient will be ready to meet with me. You’ll just have to trust me. As I said, for now, go on with normal proceedings. Start feeding him more fruit, as well.

More fruit, Doctor?

Indeed.

The nurse takes note of it and the rest of the committee all wait for the Doctor as he sits and stares off into space… He does so for a long time until he snaps out of it and looks at them all with a smile.

That will be all.

They all gather their things, pick them up, and head out the door stage left. The Doctor remains in his seat, leaning back, and once again staring off into space.

Well, I’ve definitely begun to understand what’s going on here.

He spins around in his chair as the room around him begins rotting away. The walls and floor turn to flesh and the room shifts around and morphs into the Doctor’s office. His spin lands him in front of his desk where he places a burning cigar in his teeth and rests his hands on the desk.

These delusions you’ve been having have affected the way you’re perceiving what I’m saying. Let me explain.

The Doctor clears his throat.

You can call me whatever you like. Louis, Lou…. It doesn’t matter. Like I said, if it gives you the illusion of power over me then so be it. What did I mean by that exactly? I feel I have to explain it now before we are headed off the rails again, if it’s not already too late. Do I believe that you actually get power over me when you chant my name three times? No… But it’s all up here.

The Doctor taps his temple with his index and middle finger.

Hi, the name’s Rob. Oh, hi Bob. Everyone calls me Rob. Nah, I’m going to call you Bob.

He talks to one hand then the other.

Doesn’t that look and sound… A little crazy? A little...? Now, before you jump down my throat and explain to us where you’ve spent the last seven years, we know that already, so, calm down. The fact I believe this gives you power over me is not physical power at all, but the power within you that you give yourself. Courage. Confidence. It gives you the ability to see that one and only path ahead, ever forward, right? It was never about the name. The fact that you’re denying my requests after I pointed out what an inspiration I am to you shows that you’re simply embarrassed and angry with me for not praising you for it. The rejection after the rejection. The teenager ripping up every poster in their bedroom and burning every t-shirt that reminded them of their neglect. Does Chris Page inspire you, too? Because if I’ve been echoing him all of this time there’s a better reason behind it because we do not share the same playbook. As boring as you claim it to be, you’ve admitted yourself that you have a habit of hitting the same points over and over again. Maybe it is your own repetition that causes the same reaction out of everyone you face. That does sound boring… But whatever works right?! And it has! Our little exchange of honesty, as you’d call it, where you laid some of your known flaws out on the table -- Talking about throwing out some low hanging fruit, huh? And just so you know, pointing out the low hanging fruit before you eat it doesn’t mean you didn’t take it. Oh, but we just couldn’t help ourselves, could we? It was a good cover, silly, nonetheless, but still good.

The thing about this is I didn’t look at the whole inspiration thing as something bad. Am I seriously 1-4 in the last five months? Thanks for keeping track! I’m 90-15-1 or something since my debut in this fine federation so if you’re going by my last quarter, you’re right, my credit score wouldn’t show what it actually should be. Try not to read so much into what I’m saying because I’m being perfectly straight with you. No hidden messages or spooky metaphors. No ominous texts drawn in the mirror. Calm down. I never said you were aspiring to be just like me. I never said that you wanted to BE me. I just said that I inspired you. I think it’s quite interesting that no matter what anyone loads in their gun you take the barrel and shove it straight down your throat. Challenging every challenge whether you could end up with a hole in the back of your head or not. Pulling the trigger just to hear the click. Are you accustomed to finding that empty chamber each time? Have you grown used to the same old dose? That’s around the time the one that gets ya comes along. But no, that won’t happen to you, will it? You’re in control each time. You can handle anything. You look back and rely on all the previous examples where you survived. You can claim that nothing has changed and disregard the possibility that someone has found something more to fight for than you.

You’ll have to add another one to your checklist. Sudden change results in adolescent behavior. You’re acting like a child, man. Uh oh, is that more weak sauce for your weak sauce? It’s true, weak or not. If I tell you the stove is hot, you’re going to slam your own face down on it because I said not to? If I tell you to look both ways before crossing the road, you’ll walk backwards, but, of course, ever forward, right? If I draw over to point out the difference between the truth and the pretty portrait that you’ve painted for all of us, you’ll rip it to shreds. You can’t stand when you’re the one being led forward, even if it doesn’t appear that way to everyone else. You can’t handle when the narrative changes against your favor and you’re scrambling for a solution yourself that doesn’t just appear for you.

Things have to be YOUR way. They have to fit what you’re saying and doing or you crash, burn, bang, whoop, wang it until it fits into your square hole. Someone has to be there to set the ball on the tee for you or you just swing aimlessly at everything whether it’s in your path or not. Past, present, future… Ever forward? It doesn’t matter if it was something I said five months ago or something I did three months ago. It doesn’t matter if we’ve even agreed to move past all of this… That’s called desperation. That’s called freaking out. That’s called throwing everything including the kitchen sink, just to be safe. That’s called leaving your night light on. You’ll praise your reckless behavior, because it works, right? You’ll credit it and believe that because it has worked so well that it just must work every single time, huh? It certainly works better than anything else I’ve done, right?! Chris Page apparently saw through all of it and just because he held the tools doesn’t mean he knew how to use them. Just because someone sees through all of your BS and doesn’t capitalize on it doesn’t mean that someone can’t come along, learn from their past, move ever forward in your direction, and force feed you your own words. King slayer. Dock Eater (go ahead). This place has been full of mountain tops and it would not be the first time I’ve fallen off climbing to one. I recognize my defeats. I recognize my flaws. I recognize each time I’ve fallen on my face and I’ve gotten up. I’ve dusted myself off. I, too, have survived. I’m a known climber, myself, if you weren’t paying attention. I’ve caused my own flames and I know how to do this as well as anybody. I am capable of it all, too, and any time I step forward, regardless of this ever so forward progression, I can stop it. I will stop it. I will stop you.

But that just can’t be, can it? Look at the score people!

I know the score. You of all people shock ME to continue over and over again on what’s happened before. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not whiting anything out. I’m not ignoring or downplaying May Day or War Games and I don’t believe they were flukes. That’s when que sera, sera started, remember? Whatever will be, will be! I told you that and you liked it so much it's become your mantra. I also made it clear right away that I’m not going to dwell or reflect on any of this. No pissing contest. I clearly stated from the start I needed a minute or two to focus and shine a light on those few things then I would move forward from it. Ever so forward, right? What happened then doesn’t matter now. Corey Smith and all of your other wonderful little friends, forget them, unless you have already. You admit you haven’t been there for them, so good. If you still want to talk about them, it’s fine, too! I’m not here to tell you what to talk about. I’m just following what I thought was ever forward. I figured if this is a chase, like you say, if I continue ever forward I’m going to catch up with you eventually, right? But I’m looking at it as less of a chase and more of a race, F.Y.I.

Ya know, I’m surprised after everything you’re still trying to bounce things off of me like you are. Talking about going back to things that work, huh? Yeah… Heh… You know some things about that, don’t ya? I recognize the same panic button from the first time we clashed. And I don’t know where you get your information about my “rules” and this “OG DOC” character… What rules? What rules do I follow? And I also don’t need an “F-Bomb” to force emphasis on nearly every point I’m trying to make. I think it’s kind of a waste of words and if overused, sounds a little trashy… And enough about your book. I'll throw it away like I did the first time you tried handing it over. I told you I didn’t want it to begin with, but I was trying to make up for that by taking a dive into it now. It just doesn’t seem like we can catch up on the same page, can we?

And you can talk about War Games all you want, too. Count it against me. Add it to your list of amazing feats and feasts. What is it you would like me to say about it? You’ve been giving it to me about Chris Chaos enough and, YEAH, I’ve known his worth for a while. Maybe siding with him, win or lose, isn’t something I enjoy bringing up a lot. Would you? That’s one more thing I gave a crooked eye towards Duke over, but que sera, sera. Not only has he lived at the heel of my boot for years, but it’s Chris Chaos, I don’t even know what to say? …. Where has he been living from your perspective? In your bowels? I hope he gives you colon cancer. My point is that my War Games experience was nothing like the merry group of misfit super friends that bonded at summer camp. So, could we focus on each other and Relentless a little bit more INSTEAD of the two things that you're holding over my head? Plus, I think we’ve run Chris Chaos through the mill enough and I don’t think bringing up Corey Smith’s injury is a good idea, right now, either. Although, at least one of us needs to stay focused not only on each other but that little snake, as well. Yeah, side note? I was calling him the snake, not you. You don’t slither, you stomp. You don’t hiss, you roar. I'll give you enough of that credit. Stop reading so much into what I say. Or read better? I don’t know what happened there. Anyway, who knows how extensive that injury is, right?

Heh, don’t think I’m going to jump on the bandwagon here and threaten the ol’ cash-in for Corey. I don’t know if Corey would take that route with you or not, because he’s weird like that. He would most definitely ME. Hehehe. But unlike everyone else I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about. Oh geez, not that you would be concerned anyway…. So, with the possibility of Corey Smith dicking you over pretty much nothing, why not focus on keeping your head at Relentless a little more? You’re not surviving this one if you’re looking back the entire time. I’m focused on you; not your friends, not my friends, not War Games, and definitely not Chris Chaos… I learned from May Day. It’s not that I didn’t take you seriously back then, either. I love these assumptions, ladies and gentlemen. I said I’d make no excuses and I won’t. Pull another tape from a few months ago if you like, but I’m tired of listening to you hit the playback button. The path has led through many people along the way, including myself, to lead to THIS point. You can keep mocking the end, but it’s going to come one way or another, whether you welcome it or not. If you ARE the end? I’m the beginning. The beginning of something new, yet familiar. I’ve been down this path before, I know exactly how it feels and as I said before I’ve been a fool to not crave it again until now. These threats flood in nonstop and fall flat, don't they? The same old things over and over again... But, disguise your uncertainty all you like, but you know that I could quite possibly be the one. Surviving... Surviving, indeed.]]>
##Desperate times may
Call for desperate measures
You’ll see what I mean##


-Part 3-
“A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME”

I went over notes until sundown and came up with an agenda. Out of the couple of “leads” given to me from Miss Cotton, I decided that I’d check out the bar Miss Fury ran first. The only other one was Big Money Oswald, the leader of the Bob, and, if I had the guts, check out the local police and see what they know… Even if Pryce had his hands in it.

On the back of the photo of Miss Fury there was a message that Miss Cotton didn’t bother pointing out before, assuming she was the one who wrote it.

“Join Bob?” I ask out loud.

I stacked all of the photographs together and stuffed them into my jacket pocket before leaving. It wasn’t a long walk to the bar and fairly easy to find. The little city was set up like a grid with the tower looming off in the background by itself. When I got there, the place looked a lot newer than the rest of town. It was a red brick building with no windows and neon lights that stretched all the way across and all around it.

“‘Scorched Earth - Bar and Lounge… NO. EXIT.’” I read aloud. “Heh. Hmm. Catchy.”

I walked up to the door and reached for the handle until I noticed a sign to my right that said to knock first. With my fist, I gave it three solid knocks. A slider in the door about eye level opened up swiftly which made me jump and I saw two eyes peering out at me. The beady eyes narrowed and looked me up and down.

“Got the password?” A deep voice bellowed through the hole.

“Password?”

The little slider slammed shut.

“Password???” I thought out loud to myself again.

I searched through my pockets and pulled out the photograph of Miss Fury and flipped it over. Again I gave the door three more solid knocks and the slider swiftly opened again. This time, I’m met with two angry eyes staring at me.

“Beat it.” The deep voice bellowed through the hole once more.

“Join. Bob.” I blurted out before he could slam the little door shut again.

I heard the latch from inside and then the door opened up. I recognized the guard immediately… Anyone that has had anything to do with the XWF for the last twenty years would have recognized Barney Green. He recognized me, too.

“What brings you back, Detective?” He said as we met in the doorway.

“I’m not a detective anymore, Mister Green. Remember?”

I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not. He didn’t acknowledge whether he did or didn’t.

“I’m just here on business, Barney.” I said

“Heh, heh, heh.”

“Something funny?”

“Nope.” He sneered and one of his eyes veered off… “I was just thinking of a joke I heard earlier.”

I tried to squeeze by him but I couldn’t. He took up a lot more than just the doorway.

“Mind if I head in now?”

After a big step to the side I’m allowed through into a large foyer with two other doors. There was one unmarked to my right and the one I headed for straight ahead marked “Lounge”.

“Good to see ya again, Barney.”

“Well, well, well….”

I stopped and looked back to see him staring outside the door at something. Another piercing shot rang through my head. It blurred my vision and then the stabbing pain returned to my stomach.

“What…. The fuck…. Is wrong with me…..” I’m not sure in my head whether I thought that or said it aloud. I felt like I was going to vomit and pass out… I stumbled into the door and crawled through it to the lounge.

When I got inside the aroma of stale beer and smoke took over my senses and the pain was gone. The place looked a lot bigger than it did on the outside. A large stairway took me down to the floor where dozens of dining tables were placed sporadically in no special order and most were occupied with someone. From what I could tell, there wasn’t a seat open in the house. To the side was another, shorter set of steps that led up to the bar and ahead of everything was the stage where everyone seemed to have their focus. Ever forward. Rather than looking for an open seat among the masses I decided to head towards the bar.

I took a seat on a stool and lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, like it was part of her entrance, the bartender slowly ascended from behind the bar. She had a very dark aura about her. Her skin was pale and her puckered, velvet lips formed around to a smirk as she slithered my way across the bar. She was the woman in the photograph. This was Miss Fury.

“What’s your poison, stranger?” She said with a low, soothing voice.

She looked just like she did in the picture, too. From the outfit to the way she did her make up that day.

“Just a cranberry juice, thanks.”

She took a step back then leaned back in.

"Booo! Are you sure? We have a special running on Doc Light tonight!"

"Doc…. Light?" My tongue twisted on the D word.

"Mmmhm. The Stale Ale. Like the original with no substance, but tons of filler! Great for those who can't handle the real thing."

"I think I'll stick with the cranberry juice, thanks…"

"Suit yourself…."

She creepily lowered away behind the bar again, but I ignored the theatrics. I turned away and leaned with my back against the bar looking out to the lounge. I noticed a few that couldn’t take their eyes off of me and probably called it “stranger danger”, but I kind of expected that. I didn’t recognize half of them either. Those that know me know that I was around during a very dark time in the XWF and those that don’t simply don’t trust me. As big as it may seem, the place holds together like glue if it has to and will eradicate and purge anyone and anything that threatens their little city.

I recognized Big Money sitting away from the crowd at a table in the corner. He sat silently with his Bebop and Rocksteady-looking bodyguards to each side yacking back and forth to each other. What did she call them? Mother fuckers? I debated whether now would be a good time to introduce myself as Miss Fury reemerged from behind the bar with my drink. She smiled so wide that it made me uncomfortable as she served me and I forced half a smile of my own accompanied with a small nod as I paid. From below, a scrawny, young, handsome-boyish looking guy trotted up the steps towards the bar and slid an empty bottle across it.

“Another?” Fury asked, barely giving the boy a look and staying fixed on me.

“Hell yeah! It’s my jam!” He squealed.

In one motion, Fury took the empty and replaced it with a full bottle. The bottle said, ‘Doc Light - The Stale Ale.’ A millisecond after she removed the cap for him the bottle was to his lips and he was sucking more down.

“Good stuff?” I asked him.

“Psh, yeah? It’s amazing.” He said in a bitchy, sarcastic tone then scampered off.

[Image: doclight2.png?width=404&height=473]


I watched him disappear into the crowd and when I looked back to Fury she was still staring at me with big, dark eyes. I took a sip from my drink and met her half way with a stare of my own.

“So you got a name, stranger?” The light voice from before got a little deeper.

“Trevor Dedntik.” I nodded. “Are you the owner of this place? Are you Miss Fury?”

“Myahahuhuhu!”

While unnecessary, it was a perfect evil laugh none the less.

“I am! Miss Fury at your service, Trevor Dedntik!” She bows.

“Do you suppose it would be alright if I asked you some questions?” I ask very politely.

“You’ve already asked me two questions, sir! Mhmhmhmhm…”

I thought I was getting another evil laugh, but I was denied.

“I would like to ask you about the disappearance of Vinnie---”

I’m interrupted when, suddenly, the lights dimmed in the whole place and a spotlight shined on the stage.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The show’s about to start. Your questions will have to wait.” She whispers.

“I’d rather just get through this if you don’t---”

I’m interrupted when Miss Fury turns me around to face the stage where the letters A-T-A-R-A lit up with flames then turned to ash as the curtain dropped to reveal the band and one of the most beautiful dame I’ve ever laid my eyes on.



[Image: zJAb8g0.gif]

She was another I didn’t recognize, but the way she looked up my way during her song made me feel like she did. I looked throughout the seating area and every single person was mesmerized by the music. She removed the microphone from the stand and carried it with her as she walked around the tables and sang her pretty song to everyone.

“Who? Is that?” I asked leaning further back to Fury leaning into the bar with her head on her hands.

“That’s Atara…” She sighs….

“Wow… She works here, huh?”

“It’s complicated, actually. But, yes.”

The dame eventually made her way up the steps towards me at the bar. She took a quick seat on my lap and nonchalantly slipped something into my inner jacket pocket without anyone noticing then got up and made her way back to the stage.
Fury and I watched the rest of the performance, well, at least I thought we did. When the lights came back on and the band went off on their little finale to a standing ovation from the crowd, I turned to face her again and she was gone from behind the bar.

“Hey! Where’d you go?” I asked myself.

I turned around again and there she was standing on the stage holding the microphone.

“Let’s hear it one last time for the beautiful…. Atara!!!”

For a show these folks probably see often, they sure give it up for it. I pulled what was a little piece of paper out of my jacket that she placed in there. I unfolded it and it read:

WATCH YOUR BACK DOVE

“I would like to take a moment and welcome someone back to the XWF… Someone who is a stranger to most of you, but an old acquaintance at most to others….”

I had hardly paid attention to what Miss Fury was saying as I pondered on the note and before I knew it I was blinded by the spotlight. From the stage, Fury aimed a long, neon green pointed finger directly at me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome back Detective Trevor Dedntik! Take a bow Detective” Her voice shrieks with joy but there is no applause that follows. Not even crickets.

I couldn’t see the reaction because I was still blinded by the spotlight pointed at me. I hold a hand up to block the light and there isn’t a single face in the crowd that looks welcoming at all. Miss Fury, on the other hand, I don’t think has quit smiling since I walked through the front doors. I don’t know what she was trying to pull here, but I didn’t like it. I was trying to stay low profile, but that didn’t last long at all. If Fury was this crazy, why would Miss Cotton send me to her right away? Not that I had any cover to begin with, I was planning on meeting most of these bozos at some point, but not like this.

“Don’t be shy Detective!”

Relentless.

I gave her what she wanted, I stood up and gave a wave. Then, instead of sticking around any longer I decided I should probably take my leave for now. I’ll get something out of Fury later, but for now, I think I should leave the masses and see everyone I can individually. The spotlight did finally leave me as Fury began to speak again.

“Alright, well, that’s our show! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!!”

All of the lights in the place come on at once and everyone seems to have expected this as their tabs are paid, drinks are finished, and coats are nearly buttoned. As everyone began to flood towards the one EXIT, I decided to take my own path and cut through a door beside the bar. I find myself in a completely empty kitchen, wondering for a half-second where the hell everyone was, I just stormed through looking for a different way out. At the end of the kitchen and through the small storage room there it was! I pushed out through the door into an alleyway behind the building. I didn’t take two steps before a long black limo pulled up in front of me and two familiar large men stepped out from each side and stood side by side in front of me. I pulled a cigarette out from my box and lit it.

“Bebop.” I looked at Bobby Bourbon. “Rocksteady.” I look at the Thunder Knuckles.

“Ninja Turtles, huh?” Bourbon said as he looked over to Thunder Knuckles.

“Eh..” Said TK as he gave a one of a kind hand jerking motion. “I’ll accept that.”

“The boss wants to see you.”

“Well, we could arrange a meeting…. I was planning on getting in touch with him anyw--” I’m interrupted when the two of them grab me under each arm and throw me into the back. They piled in and sat on each side of me across from Big Money Oswald. He stared at me without saying a word for a few very uncomfortable moments. He looked to his two cronies to the side who are basically sitting on top of me…. Which added some physical uncomfortability on top of it…

“Boys… Give the detective some space. It looks like he’s suffocating for fuck sake.”

Oswald had a deep, gentle voice that still shook the earth. The two men obeyed their boss and skootched over a couple of inches to give me at least room to breathe. Oswald continues to stare at me with a sad look on his face.

“Is that better?” He asked.

I just nodded.

He sat silently some more until he let out a long breath and finally spoke.

“What brings you to my beautiful town, Detective… Dedntik, is it?”

I maneuvered a bit to free my arms. My cigarette got lost sometime during the abduction.

“Well, first of all, I’m no longer a detective, Mister Oswald.”

His facial expression didn’t change.

“No? Miss Fury wouldn’t be spreading misinformation, would she?”

Again, his face remained stone cold and the tone of his voice never changed.

“Misunderstood information, maybe. I’m more of a freelancer these days.”

He scratched his beard and nodded slowly at my answer.

“I’ve been hired to look into the disappearance of Vinnie Lane. You know anything about that?”

I was lucky to get the last word out before I got two huge elbows to each side of my ribcage that left me breathless.

“Big Money Oswald is the one asking questions here, bitch!” Said TK.

“Yeah! You just focus on answering those questions!”

“Boys, boys… Please. We’re here to have a discussion and, so far, Mister Dedntik has been very respectful and cooperative. Let’s not get carried away.”

I don’t know which one, but one of them grabbed me by the hair and straightened me up from being buckled over. Oswald still looked at me with a sad, compassionate look.

“Why is it that I have not heard about this? This disappearance of the Loverboy… of our leader.”

“Well, I think Theo Pryce is trying to cover things up. I caught up with him when I first got to town and he told me it was already looked into. To forget about it. To go home.”

“Could Pryce be trying to take over the XWF?” He said with no concern. His voice remained in the same, mellow tone that it started in.”

“I’m not sure. But he was very clear that he did not want me around.”

“Yet, you’re still here.”

I let out a sigh remembering how close I was to actually saying hell with all of this and going home. But I just didn’t have it in me to tell that girl to hit the road… Like I said, she seemed awfully desperate.

“Yes, I’m still here. I was hired to do a job and the reason most people come to me is because I don’t scare easy. It’s going to take a lot more than some suit pushing me around to get me to turn down work. Especially if that suit is a probable suspect.”

“Who hired you?”

“That’s classified.”

Like a reflex, I took two more elbows to my sides. Oswald held up a hand as if not to do that, but it was a little late.

“It’s understandable… I like that. Loyalty is very, very important. Loyalty to your brothers. Loyalty to your clients.” He said.

“It’s all part of the job.” I said still kind of gasping for air.

“It certainly is, I could use your services myself, you know.”

“Now, don’t fuckin' elbow me again, but I don’t take on more than a single job at a time. Conflict of interest a bit, ya know?”

The two henchmen didn’t like my answer, but Oswald managed to hold his hand up in time to stop the reaction.

“It will be nothing and you may even have an opportunity to get more information about your current case.”

“I get what you’re saying, but the answer is still no, I'm afraid. I have rules I gotta follow, ya know. You just said, loyalty to clients… This is all part of that.”

“Very well.” He said in a somehow deeper, more disappointed tone of voice. “Take my card in case you change your mind.”

"I'd be happy to work with you later on though, Mister Oswald. And if you have any information for me to help this along, by all means, don't hesitate to speak up. The quicker this is wrapped up and Vinnie Lane is back, the sooner I can assist you, sir."

He handed me his business card which wasn’t much at all. Just a phone number.
I could feel my eyebrow twitch as I pocketed it.

"I have a beeper... You... um.. Want the number in case---"

"That won't be necessary. I'll find you again if I need you."

He snapped his fingers twice and looked away from me. Like a couple of Dobermans acting on command, I was grabbed again from under my arms as TK pushed open the door and together the two of them shoved me out as the car was traveling down the road. I hit hard on the pavement very ungracefully. I tried doing something special to prevent injury and ended up worse than just letting things happen.






QUE SERA, SERA





I rolled to the curb where I hit my head and got some more sleep.




So, how long has the Patient been showing signs of distress?

About a week, Doctor.

How many days, my dear?

A committee of doctors and nurses sit around a long, rectangle table with the Doctor sitting at the head of it. He’s speaking with the nurse closest to him now.

Allow me to rephrase, on which day did the patient begin showing signs of distress?

Would you like me to read the full report, Doctor?

Please!

The nurse flips a few pages from the stack in front of her and reads from a few back.

Patient becomes frantic with uncontrollable, angry outbursts involving shouting and violence towards others.”

She coughs to clear her throat. The Doctor sits back in his chair and folds his arms as he listens.

Patient has refused participation in exams or sessions and has been verbally abusive to the staff.

Has shown signs of anger, agitation, irritability, restlessness, and depression.

Patient is socially awkward and harmful to others.

Attempts to segregate the Patient have been a success. Segregation process was completed on September 11th without incident and the Patient continues to be isolated.

Any signs of improvement?.

The Doctor smiles and chums up to the nurse who stacks her papers back neatly in a pile.

No signs of improvement, but the Patient appears content for the moment. They’ve made a few requests, which we’ve fulfilled.

What kind of requests?

The scene switches to the inside of the Patient’s room. The walls and floor are padded with the finest matting to prevent self harm, but even so, anyone who throws themselves against it enough times is going to hurt because the walls don’t budge either. He sits on the floor with his legs crossed staring at a television playing an old episode of XWF Monday Night Madness. He’s barely paying attention to the broadcast and focusing more on what’s on his lap. He’s scribbling onto a piece of tablet paper with a dull pencil.

[Image: 9RTKQtN.png?1]

All around the room there are papers scattered all around. Some are in piles and at least attempt to look organized, but it’s hardly believable in the mess he’s created.

The requests were not filled by my order, Doctor.

Yeah we’re back in the conference room of doctors and nurses.

Of course not. It was my order. I’ve been working with this patient for quite some time now and the timing of his state of mind certainly makes me ever so curious. I provided him with his desires because if he refuses to open up to us in our own ways then we shall allow him to in his own.

How would you like us to move forward, Doctor?

Continue your daily evaluations. I will prepare for a face to face, myself. It’s been a bit since we've had one of those.

I would advise against that, Doctor. The Patient’s current unpredictable behavior and his violent outbursts doesn’t make it safe.

I understand, nurse, but when the day comes the Patient will be ready to meet with me. You’ll just have to trust me. As I said, for now, go on with normal proceedings. Start feeding him more fruit, as well.

More fruit, Doctor?

Indeed.

The nurse takes note of it and the rest of the committee all wait for the Doctor as he sits and stares off into space… He does so for a long time until he snaps out of it and looks at them all with a smile.

That will be all.

They all gather their things, pick them up, and head out the door stage left. The Doctor remains in his seat, leaning back, and once again staring off into space.

Well, I’ve definitely begun to understand what’s going on here.

He spins around in his chair as the room around him begins rotting away. The walls and floor turn to flesh and the room shifts around and morphs into the Doctor’s office. His spin lands him in front of his desk where he places a burning cigar in his teeth and rests his hands on the desk.

These delusions you’ve been having have affected the way you’re perceiving what I’m saying. Let me explain.

The Doctor clears his throat.

You can call me whatever you like. Louis, Lou…. It doesn’t matter. Like I said, if it gives you the illusion of power over me then so be it. What did I mean by that exactly? I feel I have to explain it now before we are headed off the rails again, if it’s not already too late. Do I believe that you actually get power over me when you chant my name three times? No… But it’s all up here.

The Doctor taps his temple with his index and middle finger.

Hi, the name’s Rob. Oh, hi Bob. Everyone calls me Rob. Nah, I’m going to call you Bob.

He talks to one hand then the other.

Doesn’t that look and sound… A little crazy? A little...? Now, before you jump down my throat and explain to us where you’ve spent the last seven years, we know that already, so, calm down. The fact I believe this gives you power over me is not physical power at all, but the power within you that you give yourself. Courage. Confidence. It gives you the ability to see that one and only path ahead, ever forward, right? It was never about the name. The fact that you’re denying my requests after I pointed out what an inspiration I am to you shows that you’re simply embarrassed and angry with me for not praising you for it. The rejection after the rejection. The teenager ripping up every poster in their bedroom and burning every t-shirt that reminded them of their neglect. Does Chris Page inspire you, too? Because if I’ve been echoing him all of this time there’s a better reason behind it because we do not share the same playbook. As boring as you claim it to be, you’ve admitted yourself that you have a habit of hitting the same points over and over again. Maybe it is your own repetition that causes the same reaction out of everyone you face. That does sound boring… But whatever works right?! And it has! Our little exchange of honesty, as you’d call it, where you laid some of your known flaws out on the table -- Talking about throwing out some low hanging fruit, huh? And just so you know, pointing out the low hanging fruit before you eat it doesn’t mean you didn’t take it. Oh, but we just couldn’t help ourselves, could we? It was a good cover, silly, nonetheless, but still good.

The thing about this is I didn’t look at the whole inspiration thing as something bad. Am I seriously 1-4 in the last five months? Thanks for keeping track! I’m 90-15-1 or something since my debut in this fine federation so if you’re going by my last quarter, you’re right, my credit score wouldn’t show what it actually should be. Try not to read so much into what I’m saying because I’m being perfectly straight with you. No hidden messages or spooky metaphors. No ominous texts drawn in the mirror. Calm down. I never said you were aspiring to be just like me. I never said that you wanted to BE me. I just said that I inspired you. I think it’s quite interesting that no matter what anyone loads in their gun you take the barrel and shove it straight down your throat. Challenging every challenge whether you could end up with a hole in the back of your head or not. Pulling the trigger just to hear the click. Are you accustomed to finding that empty chamber each time? Have you grown used to the same old dose? That’s around the time the one that gets ya comes along. But no, that won’t happen to you, will it? You’re in control each time. You can handle anything. You look back and rely on all the previous examples where you survived. You can claim that nothing has changed and disregard the possibility that someone has found something more to fight for than you.

You’ll have to add another one to your checklist. Sudden change results in adolescent behavior. You’re acting like a child, man. Uh oh, is that more weak sauce for your weak sauce? It’s true, weak or not. If I tell you the stove is hot, you’re going to slam your own face down on it because I said not to? If I tell you to look both ways before crossing the road, you’ll walk backwards, but, of course, ever forward, right? If I draw over to point out the difference between the truth and the pretty portrait that you’ve painted for all of us, you’ll rip it to shreds. You can’t stand when you’re the one being led forward, even if it doesn’t appear that way to everyone else. You can’t handle when the narrative changes against your favor and you’re scrambling for a solution yourself that doesn’t just appear for you.

Things have to be YOUR way. They have to fit what you’re saying and doing or you crash, burn, bang, whoop, wang it until it fits into your square hole. Someone has to be there to set the ball on the tee for you or you just swing aimlessly at everything whether it’s in your path or not. Past, present, future… Ever forward? It doesn’t matter if it was something I said five months ago or something I did three months ago. It doesn’t matter if we’ve even agreed to move past all of this… That’s called desperation. That’s called freaking out. That’s called throwing everything including the kitchen sink, just to be safe. That’s called leaving your night light on. You’ll praise your reckless behavior, because it works, right? You’ll credit it and believe that because it has worked so well that it just must work every single time, huh? It certainly works better than anything else I’ve done, right?! Chris Page apparently saw through all of it and just because he held the tools doesn’t mean he knew how to use them. Just because someone sees through all of your BS and doesn’t capitalize on it doesn’t mean that someone can’t come along, learn from their past, move ever forward in your direction, and force feed you your own words. King slayer. Dock Eater (go ahead). This place has been full of mountain tops and it would not be the first time I’ve fallen off climbing to one. I recognize my defeats. I recognize my flaws. I recognize each time I’ve fallen on my face and I’ve gotten up. I’ve dusted myself off. I, too, have survived. I’m a known climber, myself, if you weren’t paying attention. I’ve caused my own flames and I know how to do this as well as anybody. I am capable of it all, too, and any time I step forward, regardless of this ever so forward progression, I can stop it. I will stop it. I will stop you.

But that just can’t be, can it? Look at the score people!

I know the score. You of all people shock ME to continue over and over again on what’s happened before. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not whiting anything out. I’m not ignoring or downplaying May Day or War Games and I don’t believe they were flukes. That’s when que sera, sera started, remember? Whatever will be, will be! I told you that and you liked it so much it's become your mantra. I also made it clear right away that I’m not going to dwell or reflect on any of this. No pissing contest. I clearly stated from the start I needed a minute or two to focus and shine a light on those few things then I would move forward from it. Ever so forward, right? What happened then doesn’t matter now. Corey Smith and all of your other wonderful little friends, forget them, unless you have already. You admit you haven’t been there for them, so good. If you still want to talk about them, it’s fine, too! I’m not here to tell you what to talk about. I’m just following what I thought was ever forward. I figured if this is a chase, like you say, if I continue ever forward I’m going to catch up with you eventually, right? But I’m looking at it as less of a chase and more of a race, F.Y.I.

Ya know, I’m surprised after everything you’re still trying to bounce things off of me like you are. Talking about going back to things that work, huh? Yeah… Heh… You know some things about that, don’t ya? I recognize the same panic button from the first time we clashed. And I don’t know where you get your information about my “rules” and this “OG DOC” character… What rules? What rules do I follow? And I also don’t need an “F-Bomb” to force emphasis on nearly every point I’m trying to make. I think it’s kind of a waste of words and if overused, sounds a little trashy… And enough about your book. I'll throw it away like I did the first time you tried handing it over. I told you I didn’t want it to begin with, but I was trying to make up for that by taking a dive into it now. It just doesn’t seem like we can catch up on the same page, can we?

And you can talk about War Games all you want, too. Count it against me. Add it to your list of amazing feats and feasts. What is it you would like me to say about it? You’ve been giving it to me about Chris Chaos enough and, YEAH, I’ve known his worth for a while. Maybe siding with him, win or lose, isn’t something I enjoy bringing up a lot. Would you? That’s one more thing I gave a crooked eye towards Duke over, but que sera, sera. Not only has he lived at the heel of my boot for years, but it’s Chris Chaos, I don’t even know what to say? …. Where has he been living from your perspective? In your bowels? I hope he gives you colon cancer. My point is that my War Games experience was nothing like the merry group of misfit super friends that bonded at summer camp. So, could we focus on each other and Relentless a little bit more INSTEAD of the two things that you're holding over my head? Plus, I think we’ve run Chris Chaos through the mill enough and I don’t think bringing up Corey Smith’s injury is a good idea, right now, either. Although, at least one of us needs to stay focused not only on each other but that little snake, as well. Yeah, side note? I was calling him the snake, not you. You don’t slither, you stomp. You don’t hiss, you roar. I'll give you enough of that credit. Stop reading so much into what I say. Or read better? I don’t know what happened there. Anyway, who knows how extensive that injury is, right?

Heh, don’t think I’m going to jump on the bandwagon here and threaten the ol’ cash-in for Corey. I don’t know if Corey would take that route with you or not, because he’s weird like that. He would most definitely ME. Hehehe. But unlike everyone else I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about. Oh geez, not that you would be concerned anyway…. So, with the possibility of Corey Smith dicking you over pretty much nothing, why not focus on keeping your head at Relentless a little more? You’re not surviving this one if you’re looking back the entire time. I’m focused on you; not your friends, not my friends, not War Games, and definitely not Chris Chaos… I learned from May Day. It’s not that I didn’t take you seriously back then, either. I love these assumptions, ladies and gentlemen. I said I’d make no excuses and I won’t. Pull another tape from a few months ago if you like, but I’m tired of listening to you hit the playback button. The path has led through many people along the way, including myself, to lead to THIS point. You can keep mocking the end, but it’s going to come one way or another, whether you welcome it or not. If you ARE the end? I’m the beginning. The beginning of something new, yet familiar. I’ve been down this path before, I know exactly how it feels and as I said before I’ve been a fool to not crave it again until now. These threats flood in nonstop and fall flat, don't they? The same old things over and over again... But, disguise your uncertainty all you like, but you know that I could quite possibly be the one. Surviving... Surviving, indeed.]]> <![CDATA[And we have crashed her party]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41926 Tue, 21 Sep 2021 21:29:10 -0700 Marf]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41926
And back into the dreamworld we go…


The night was more than a few hours awake now as I sat in the tight little room at the police station. My partner Damien was off somewhere looking for more piles of paperwork to dump into my lap. I reached down for my coffee cup and polished off my fifth coffee of the late evening. I was itching for a smoke but that would require leaving the room and actually interacting with my colleagues. I barely trusted my own partner so I damn sure didn’t trust the rest of the rats here at precinct nine eight two.

I had plenty of paperwork and files piled up on my old oak desk to keep my attention busy for weeks. But my attention had wandered elsewhere. To the woman. With the blue hair. How had nobody seen her but me? She said the other officer told her to wait. She lied. Probably a passerby looking for their own attention. Yet I could not remove her from within my own thoughts. The door to the room suddenly opens as I flinch but hide that I’ve been startled. My captain walks in the room and gives me a once over. She’s a young woman but stern and commands a lot of respect.

You look like shit. Ever heard of a thing called sleep?

She glares at me as if daring for a smart ass answer before dropping a folder abruptly on my desk.

Officer Nickles mentioned you talked to some chick at the scene? Make sure you fill out this updated report then. You seriously let her fuckin leave?

New achievement, I pissed her off without even speaking yet.

Well I needed to survey the scene…

The officers there had already done that. Hence the police tape dickhead. Why would you leave a witness unattended?

Well why was she alone on that bench to begin with?

The words were barely out of my mouth as I felt myself fill up with regret. One thing that really pissed captain Waters off was back talk. She closes my door and stares down at me.

What other officers do is of no concern to you, first of all, fucko. Secondly, next time you try to gloss over your own fuck up I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting the guts of the bug I squashed under my shoe today. Now get those fucking reports done and on my desk before your shift is over. Do I make myself clear?

Crystal…

Her face is beat red with anger and I prepare for another vicious tongue lashing. She adjusts her blond hair in the tight ponytail, turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. That went as wonderfully as expected. I open the folder and glance down at the new paperwork captain Waters so graciously passed on to me. I barely had started pulling it out to work on when my door begins to creep open once more. The cautiousness tells me it’s definitely not my captain or my partner. I look up as Lieutenant Lane slinks into the room.

Dude…that sounded gnarly…

Like a consoling mother bird swooping in to do damage control, that was ole Lane. It was a bittersweet day when he was promoted to lieutenant and sadly forced to cut his signature long locks. That was actually a really dark week altogether but that’s a story for another campfire.

Thanks…I got shit to do man so…

Yeah yeah, I’ll take off. But hey, was there really a girl? Tell me, that chick hot or what? Eh?

I don’t really know if he actually believes me or if he’s messing with me. I don’t think anyone would care if he did believe me though…

Sure, man. Look this paperwork ain’t gonna write itself so…

Gotcha! Loud and clear, over and out!

He leaves the room and thankfully doesn’t slam the door. I can only hope nobody else chooses to pop in for a visit.

The following night, shortly before midnight.


I fill out the last of the reports, in record time to boot. The annoying tapping from my partner’s pen drowns the room until I finally hear an inaudible snap in my own mind. I close my files and stand up, almost too quickly. My partner looks up from his own mess of papers and cocks an eyebrow for a moment. I pull out my half empty pack of Marlboro’s and nod back. He barely acknowledges it as his head is immediately buried back into his files and papers. I leave the room and pass through the maze of desks and clutter to head outside.

Stepping out into the crisp night I button my overcoat up and flip the collar. I walk a few dozen feet from the front and stand under a streetlight, eyeing the dark road as I spark my cigarette. No sooner do I take a drag, a bloodcurdling scream breaks through the relative silence of the usually quiet Wednesday night. I race towards it, a nearby alley a half mile from the station. Not the most ideal spot to commit a crime but not all criminals in this town possess intelligence. I make it to the alley in seconds flat before pulling out my gun and entering.

Police! Identify yourself! Now!!!

The alley before me is pitch black. I carefully pull out my flashlight and point it straight ahead with my pistol. Passing by bags of spilt trash and grime I make my way to the back of the alley. A tipped over dumpster is blocking my light’s view but there is some movement. I stop and take aim while watching shadows moving from behind the fallen dumpster.

Whoever is back there identify yourself! I am armed!

Finally a young woman stumbles out from behind the dumpster. Her clothes seem unkempt and covered in something. I already know it’s blood. I holster my weapon and move towards her as she falls to a knee. As I approach her I can see the blue hair clearly. She looks up at me and I spot the recognition in her beautiful eyes. She can’t seem to get the words out and her mouth is only able to tremble. She raises a badly shaking, blood soaked hand and points directly behind me.

I knew without looking what I would see. I also knew that I really didn’t want to see what I was about to view. Some guys like to sound tough and say you get used to it, become numb to it. They’re full of shit. I know that no sane human being can get adjusted to looking at ripped apart, murdered body. I took a deep, slow breath while mentally preparing what would likely be the new image keeping me awake at night. Turning around I raise my flashlight slowly and groan.

Fuck saaaakes…

I don’t want it to be but the scene before my eyes is very real. Lying behind the fallen dumpster is the remains of someone that was torn wide open. I can’t really make out whether they are a male or female victim. Their chest cavity has been smashed in as if struck by a cannon ball. And their face, or what was left of it, was carved like a Thanksgiving turkey by an Alzheimer’s grandfather. I had seen more blood in my life than I cared to admit and this scene just doubled that total. I can feel the bile trying to climb up my esophagus and launch out to the cold concrete. I turn back to the blue haired woman.

What the hell is going…

And she’s gone.

…on…

I walk out from behind the dumpster and search for her but it’s too late, she is long gone. What seems like seconds later my partner comes racing down the dark alley.

What’s going on back there!? You fuckin alright!?

I can’t believe his timing as I realize the blue haired woman is long gone and nobody is going to believe me if I say she was here. I wave my partner Damien over as I shudder at the mountains of paperwork this new mess was about to create. It was going to be another long night…

The fuck happened!?

You’re not going to believe this…

To be continued…


Transport,
Motorways and tramlines.
Starting and then stopping,
Taking off and landing.

The emptiest of feelings.
Disappointed people,
Clinging onto bottles.
And when it comes it's so so disappointing.

Let down and hanging around.
Crushed like a bug in the ground.
Let down and hanging around.


Sometime over the weekend…


Hey, look at us, about to enjoy another look at that beautiful mug of Marf. Cue that wide, callous grin and we should be ready to go.

Hola, Talia. How’s that barely bilingual ass of yours doing? Wait, let me guess! It is parked firmly in a chair in front of a shitty television just waiting for my next promo to drop. A notepad in your lap, covered in scribbles. Desperately trying to counter what I have to say as soon as possible. You did a sloppy job of hiding that trick the first go round but hey, why not go back to the well and try again right? I understand, I’m not a basic pushover like everyone you’ve been up against since your not so triumphant return. Might as well get a head start!

Unfortunately for you, Tales, is that head start doesn’t mean shit when you’re already miles behind me in every fathomable way. Are you going to use high intensity to beat me? Christ don’t forget to apply the other two I’s as well. With some integrity and intelligence you’ll be a lock to keep your winning ways alive. There is just one issue with that Angle, you sort of don’t have a deep pool for any of those categories. You’re a dumb fucking bore with about as much integrity as a stray dog’s shit.

Marf shrugs at the crudeness but carries on like the wayward son he is. God bless em.

So you’re all excited and shit about being back on a pay per view huh? Mamacita missed being on the big stage, what an inspiring little story you got there. Years later, finally making it back! I mean to be honest you’re kind of getting me excited too! Seeing you there just filled to the brim with all these hopes, dreams and aspirations. I’m going to be so overwhelmed with satisfaction when I completely destroy all of that for you. When I rip away everything you apparently are working so hard for, mmmmm that’s going to feel damn good!

But fear not, amiga! You will get your chance to be seen on the pay per view. You will have your opportunity at Relentless to feel like your redemption is about to be fulfilled. And then you will be mauled and ripped apart by yours truly. I will bounce your tight body off every square inch of that canvas until you’ve bled buckets worth of blood. I will smear your essence onto the ropes, turnbuckles, outside barricades and more. I will make you wish you never ever attempted a comeback in xwf. And after all that, then maybe I’ll finally pin you.

Marf stifles a bit of laughter and it’s made obvious he’s likely going to go further.

Since you brought it up Tales, what the fuck do you actually know about pressure? Do you think winning a handful of nothing matches against scrubs actually earned you the right to compete for a Hart title shot? God damn I can’t wait to get in that ring with you, I’ll show you a thing or two about pressure. I will teach you all about it, like how much pressure I can apply to your back before it snaps like a fucking twig. Nothing you’ve done up to now means a fucking thing to me, shut your Southern slut mouth about pressure.

I can admit though, you did surprise me a slight bit by getting something right out of all that nonsense. I really don’t respect the people I’m in the ring with. Hell, I don’t respect people at all. Especially brain dead fucks like you Tales, that think giving the tired, old “anyone can win on any given night” bullshit has any impact or merit. But just because I don’t respect you doesn’t mean I don’t see you as a threat. It just means I’m going to hurt you very badly before you have the chance to prove you actually are a threat.

Even if I don’t take you one hundred percent seriously I still intend on giving you my full attention and fury. You think that makes me short sided? Unfocused? Oh okay but then you turn around and bring up Atty and internet memes for no fucking reason at all. Who needs to be more serious here again? Eyes on me dumb dumb! You need to stay focused and get your shit together. And there is not much time left to do that. Vominos!

Marf makes a swift movement pantomiming a bull fighter or conquistador or some Spanish shit.

You say you’re ready for war, Tales. You’ve heard my warning loud and clear, an incredible feat in itself considering the deafening silence inside that empty skull. But I’m afraid I just don’t believe you. Surviving being stabbed is not a prerequisite to earning a victory over me. It just means you’re a fucking idiot that got stabbed. Congratulations on that shit. It’s not going to stop me from smashing your head from post to god damn post. For me, that will be bliss. As for you Tales…

Marf ponders for a moment and presses a finger to his hairy chin.

…well at least after I am done you will be well on you’re way to heaven. And that is where you can finally experience your paradise. Prove me fucking wrong, perra!

Marf nods and grins viciously, surprising even himself with that vast Spanish vocabulary he’s displayed. We fade out as he probably says more Spanish things… ]]>
And back into the dreamworld we go…


The night was more than a few hours awake now as I sat in the tight little room at the police station. My partner Damien was off somewhere looking for more piles of paperwork to dump into my lap. I reached down for my coffee cup and polished off my fifth coffee of the late evening. I was itching for a smoke but that would require leaving the room and actually interacting with my colleagues. I barely trusted my own partner so I damn sure didn’t trust the rest of the rats here at precinct nine eight two.

I had plenty of paperwork and files piled up on my old oak desk to keep my attention busy for weeks. But my attention had wandered elsewhere. To the woman. With the blue hair. How had nobody seen her but me? She said the other officer told her to wait. She lied. Probably a passerby looking for their own attention. Yet I could not remove her from within my own thoughts. The door to the room suddenly opens as I flinch but hide that I’ve been startled. My captain walks in the room and gives me a once over. She’s a young woman but stern and commands a lot of respect.

You look like shit. Ever heard of a thing called sleep?

She glares at me as if daring for a smart ass answer before dropping a folder abruptly on my desk.

Officer Nickles mentioned you talked to some chick at the scene? Make sure you fill out this updated report then. You seriously let her fuckin leave?

New achievement, I pissed her off without even speaking yet.

Well I needed to survey the scene…

The officers there had already done that. Hence the police tape dickhead. Why would you leave a witness unattended?

Well why was she alone on that bench to begin with?

The words were barely out of my mouth as I felt myself fill up with regret. One thing that really pissed captain Waters off was back talk. She closes my door and stares down at me.

What other officers do is of no concern to you, first of all, fucko. Secondly, next time you try to gloss over your own fuck up I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting the guts of the bug I squashed under my shoe today. Now get those fucking reports done and on my desk before your shift is over. Do I make myself clear?

Crystal…

Her face is beat red with anger and I prepare for another vicious tongue lashing. She adjusts her blond hair in the tight ponytail, turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. That went as wonderfully as expected. I open the folder and glance down at the new paperwork captain Waters so graciously passed on to me. I barely had started pulling it out to work on when my door begins to creep open once more. The cautiousness tells me it’s definitely not my captain or my partner. I look up as Lieutenant Lane slinks into the room.

Dude…that sounded gnarly…

Like a consoling mother bird swooping in to do damage control, that was ole Lane. It was a bittersweet day when he was promoted to lieutenant and sadly forced to cut his signature long locks. That was actually a really dark week altogether but that’s a story for another campfire.

Thanks…I got shit to do man so…

Yeah yeah, I’ll take off. But hey, was there really a girl? Tell me, that chick hot or what? Eh?

I don’t really know if he actually believes me or if he’s messing with me. I don’t think anyone would care if he did believe me though…

Sure, man. Look this paperwork ain’t gonna write itself so…

Gotcha! Loud and clear, over and out!

He leaves the room and thankfully doesn’t slam the door. I can only hope nobody else chooses to pop in for a visit.

The following night, shortly before midnight.


I fill out the last of the reports, in record time to boot. The annoying tapping from my partner’s pen drowns the room until I finally hear an inaudible snap in my own mind. I close my files and stand up, almost too quickly. My partner looks up from his own mess of papers and cocks an eyebrow for a moment. I pull out my half empty pack of Marlboro’s and nod back. He barely acknowledges it as his head is immediately buried back into his files and papers. I leave the room and pass through the maze of desks and clutter to head outside.

Stepping out into the crisp night I button my overcoat up and flip the collar. I walk a few dozen feet from the front and stand under a streetlight, eyeing the dark road as I spark my cigarette. No sooner do I take a drag, a bloodcurdling scream breaks through the relative silence of the usually quiet Wednesday night. I race towards it, a nearby alley a half mile from the station. Not the most ideal spot to commit a crime but not all criminals in this town possess intelligence. I make it to the alley in seconds flat before pulling out my gun and entering.

Police! Identify yourself! Now!!!

The alley before me is pitch black. I carefully pull out my flashlight and point it straight ahead with my pistol. Passing by bags of spilt trash and grime I make my way to the back of the alley. A tipped over dumpster is blocking my light’s view but there is some movement. I stop and take aim while watching shadows moving from behind the fallen dumpster.

Whoever is back there identify yourself! I am armed!

Finally a young woman stumbles out from behind the dumpster. Her clothes seem unkempt and covered in something. I already know it’s blood. I holster my weapon and move towards her as she falls to a knee. As I approach her I can see the blue hair clearly. She looks up at me and I spot the recognition in her beautiful eyes. She can’t seem to get the words out and her mouth is only able to tremble. She raises a badly shaking, blood soaked hand and points directly behind me.

I knew without looking what I would see. I also knew that I really didn’t want to see what I was about to view. Some guys like to sound tough and say you get used to it, become numb to it. They’re full of shit. I know that no sane human being can get adjusted to looking at ripped apart, murdered body. I took a deep, slow breath while mentally preparing what would likely be the new image keeping me awake at night. Turning around I raise my flashlight slowly and groan.

Fuck saaaakes…

I don’t want it to be but the scene before my eyes is very real. Lying behind the fallen dumpster is the remains of someone that was torn wide open. I can’t really make out whether they are a male or female victim. Their chest cavity has been smashed in as if struck by a cannon ball. And their face, or what was left of it, was carved like a Thanksgiving turkey by an Alzheimer’s grandfather. I had seen more blood in my life than I cared to admit and this scene just doubled that total. I can feel the bile trying to climb up my esophagus and launch out to the cold concrete. I turn back to the blue haired woman.

What the hell is going…

And she’s gone.

…on…

I walk out from behind the dumpster and search for her but it’s too late, she is long gone. What seems like seconds later my partner comes racing down the dark alley.

What’s going on back there!? You fuckin alright!?

I can’t believe his timing as I realize the blue haired woman is long gone and nobody is going to believe me if I say she was here. I wave my partner Damien over as I shudder at the mountains of paperwork this new mess was about to create. It was going to be another long night…

The fuck happened!?

You’re not going to believe this…

To be continued…


Transport,
Motorways and tramlines.
Starting and then stopping,
Taking off and landing.

The emptiest of feelings.
Disappointed people,
Clinging onto bottles.
And when it comes it's so so disappointing.

Let down and hanging around.
Crushed like a bug in the ground.
Let down and hanging around.


Sometime over the weekend…


Hey, look at us, about to enjoy another look at that beautiful mug of Marf. Cue that wide, callous grin and we should be ready to go.

Hola, Talia. How’s that barely bilingual ass of yours doing? Wait, let me guess! It is parked firmly in a chair in front of a shitty television just waiting for my next promo to drop. A notepad in your lap, covered in scribbles. Desperately trying to counter what I have to say as soon as possible. You did a sloppy job of hiding that trick the first go round but hey, why not go back to the well and try again right? I understand, I’m not a basic pushover like everyone you’ve been up against since your not so triumphant return. Might as well get a head start!

Unfortunately for you, Tales, is that head start doesn’t mean shit when you’re already miles behind me in every fathomable way. Are you going to use high intensity to beat me? Christ don’t forget to apply the other two I’s as well. With some integrity and intelligence you’ll be a lock to keep your winning ways alive. There is just one issue with that Angle, you sort of don’t have a deep pool for any of those categories. You’re a dumb fucking bore with about as much integrity as a stray dog’s shit.

Marf shrugs at the crudeness but carries on like the wayward son he is. God bless em.

So you’re all excited and shit about being back on a pay per view huh? Mamacita missed being on the big stage, what an inspiring little story you got there. Years later, finally making it back! I mean to be honest you’re kind of getting me excited too! Seeing you there just filled to the brim with all these hopes, dreams and aspirations. I’m going to be so overwhelmed with satisfaction when I completely destroy all of that for you. When I rip away everything you apparently are working so hard for, mmmmm that’s going to feel damn good!

But fear not, amiga! You will get your chance to be seen on the pay per view. You will have your opportunity at Relentless to feel like your redemption is about to be fulfilled. And then you will be mauled and ripped apart by yours truly. I will bounce your tight body off every square inch of that canvas until you’ve bled buckets worth of blood. I will smear your essence onto the ropes, turnbuckles, outside barricades and more. I will make you wish you never ever attempted a comeback in xwf. And after all that, then maybe I’ll finally pin you.

Marf stifles a bit of laughter and it’s made obvious he’s likely going to go further.

Since you brought it up Tales, what the fuck do you actually know about pressure? Do you think winning a handful of nothing matches against scrubs actually earned you the right to compete for a Hart title shot? God damn I can’t wait to get in that ring with you, I’ll show you a thing or two about pressure. I will teach you all about it, like how much pressure I can apply to your back before it snaps like a fucking twig. Nothing you’ve done up to now means a fucking thing to me, shut your Southern slut mouth about pressure.

I can admit though, you did surprise me a slight bit by getting something right out of all that nonsense. I really don’t respect the people I’m in the ring with. Hell, I don’t respect people at all. Especially brain dead fucks like you Tales, that think giving the tired, old “anyone can win on any given night” bullshit has any impact or merit. But just because I don’t respect you doesn’t mean I don’t see you as a threat. It just means I’m going to hurt you very badly before you have the chance to prove you actually are a threat.

Even if I don’t take you one hundred percent seriously I still intend on giving you my full attention and fury. You think that makes me short sided? Unfocused? Oh okay but then you turn around and bring up Atty and internet memes for no fucking reason at all. Who needs to be more serious here again? Eyes on me dumb dumb! You need to stay focused and get your shit together. And there is not much time left to do that. Vominos!

Marf makes a swift movement pantomiming a bull fighter or conquistador or some Spanish shit.

You say you’re ready for war, Tales. You’ve heard my warning loud and clear, an incredible feat in itself considering the deafening silence inside that empty skull. But I’m afraid I just don’t believe you. Surviving being stabbed is not a prerequisite to earning a victory over me. It just means you’re a fucking idiot that got stabbed. Congratulations on that shit. It’s not going to stop me from smashing your head from post to god damn post. For me, that will be bliss. As for you Tales…

Marf ponders for a moment and presses a finger to his hairy chin.

…well at least after I am done you will be well on you’re way to heaven. And that is where you can finally experience your paradise. Prove me fucking wrong, perra!

Marf nods and grins viciously, surprising even himself with that vast Spanish vocabulary he’s displayed. We fade out as he probably says more Spanish things… ]]> <![CDATA[Lionheart & Soul - Part 2: RP #2]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41921 Tue, 21 Sep 2021 11:50:25 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=41921
PRESENT DAY


Bermuda Triangle || Atlantic Ocean || 0802 Hours

I’ve mostly fallen silent. It’s ‘game time’ in a manner of speaking and I have to shake whatever personal thoughts that are in my mind. The lives of my men and women aboard Leviathan depend on it. There’s no guarantee that even if my air force invades their space as they’re hunting down the submarine, that they’ll focus all of their attention on all of us rather than the target in front of them. Warships are equipped to do both simultaneously.

”General?” I call out through the radio. ”You have a copy?” Reception has been sporadic, cutting in and out. I’m not sure how much of it is just the distance and altitude in which my air force is flying and how much of it is the Bermuda Triangle just doin’ her thing and playing games with our equipment.

”Yes sir?” he calls back, though the transmission is a bit garbled. ”You’re breaking up………………. Enough to understand.”

”Send two more waves,” I instruct him. ”Six jets, two bombers each.”

”……………...” comes the empty reply.

Back on board the Vengeance, I was so amped to fuck some shit up that I didn’t even think about this mission over all. I have enough planes and munitions that we can steady bombard these assholes from sun up to sun down until they just pray that we kill them.

”General?” I call out again. ”Repeat my order,” I plea to him, hoping they’re reading me back on board the carrier.

”Six more je…….. ore bombers,” he replies.

”Two waves, copy?”

”Roger………….”

Why I didn’t think of it while I was still aboard, I’ll never know and I’m hoping this doesn’t cost us. The other planes will catch up by the time we’re ready to open fire, but even still. This lapse in judgment might cost lives for the good guys.

”Hey mate?” Jim’s voice comes through my headset in his thick British accent. ”They heard your orders loud and clear.”

”Are they away yet?”

”Second wave getting set to launch now,” he informs me. ”What’s your plan out there?” he asks.

I don’t answer immediately. ”You remember in Thrones when Dany hit Kings Landing?” I ask of my best friend.

”Of course mate,” he replies. ”Even though we’ve always maintained that that series ended when the Night King used Viserion to melt the wall.”

”You got that right,” I say with a chuckle. ”When she hit Blackwater Bay and Euron’s fleet with Drogon...”

”Our baby boy,” he interjects, feigning emotional pride.

”She used a death from above kind of tactic,” I say with a laugh. ”They’re focused on the sea and Leviathan while we’re coming almost straight down from above.”

”Your controls work, right?” he asks.

”Yeah of course bro,” I reply quickly.

”Mate I remember Poland,” he says, referring to my first foray into leading the military when I was just a teenager. ”Those controls didn’t work so well and you had to eject.”

”You know I hadn’t thought about that in years,” I call back to him. ”Thank you so kindly for reminding me of the only time I was shot down.”

”I just want you landing safely on the flight deck in one piece mate,” he informs me. ”If we lose you it’s only a matter of time before the Ares Project wipes us all out.”

”Buddy you ought to know by now...”

”What’s that?”

”Plot armor keeps me alive,” I joke.

”Plot armor?” he laughs. ”And all this time I thought it was divine intervention,” he jokes back.

”If there is a God, Jim, I don’t thing he’s intervening on my behalf.”

”Probably up there with the apostles eating popcorn and rooting for the Ares Project.”

”Alright bro,” I say with a laugh. ”It’s go time.”

”Hit ‘em hard mate, be safe.”

Without another word from either of us, my crew dips beneath a cloud. Far below us, the Ares Project fleet is hunting down Leviathan.


WEEKS AGO


While the men and women of my armed forces ramp up their training in preparation for going to sea, Jim and I spend a lot of time together. Neither of us know how much time he has left and my own stubbornness caused us to lose the first several months of his disease. It’s all bittersweet, to be perfectly honest. Throughout your life, its far more common to not know when your time is up. When someone passes away, it’s more often sudden and unexpected. Their loved ones struggle to come to terms with the loss. Maybe that’s the root cause of my coldness toward him in those first few months. He was gonna let me lose him suddenly.

Having had time since then to think about things, I wish I had confronted him about it sooner. He’s family to me and instead of spending as much time as we possibly could together in his last months or year of his life, we ended up spending the majority of that time separated. I’ll regret that until my own dying breath.

”Mate, you remember before you were King and you were just the Minister of State?” he asks as we stroll the perimeter. I nod my response, smiling warmly. ”We had that official visit to Scotland and they gave you that warm tribute to Father Asmodeus?” he reminds me.

”Yeah that was somethin’ else bro.”

”You wore that kilt to the show and complained for two hours how much it itched your nether regions,” he reminds me with a chuckle.

”I didn’t know you were supposed to wear stuff underneath,” I give him a chuckle of my own. “No one told me.”

”You did discover your love of Bagpipes though.”

”I’m itching right now just thinking of that fucking kilt,” I reply before switching gears. ”And the Bagpipes though… god what a beautiful sound.”

”You remember, that was also the first time you ever got drunk?” he continues to reminisce. ”The Premier gave you this real expensive bottle of Scotch and we drank it on the plane on the way to Germany.”

”I’ve had concussions Jim,” I begin my retort. ”A few of them, and I’ve never had a worse migraine than after drinking that fucking Scotch,” I say with a life.

”That’s when shit got real,” he stops in stride, taking shallow but increasingly deeper breaths while clutching his chest.

”You alright?” I ask, stopping to help any way I can while placing my hand on his shoulder.

”Palpitations,” he says with a nod.

”That happen a lot?” I ask with genuine concern in my voice.

”It didn’t used to,” he answers while leaning over and placing his hands on his knees in an effort to rest and let his fluttering heart calm down. ”These started about a month ago, maybe six weeks,” he explains. ”But they’ve gotten worse.”

”C’mon Jimmy, let’s just sit,” I tell him while helping him to the ground. ”Why’d you never get treatment?”

”Because I refused to see the doctor for too long,” he answers while his heartbeat slows. ”When you fake fired me to force me to go to a doctor, it was already metastasized to my heart,” he explains.

”I don’t really know what that means,” I admit to him.

”The cancer had already spread to my heart,” he explains further. ”They could have done surgery to try and remove it, but the odds were slim that there’d be enough heart left to… you know… live. So I chose not to have treatment.”

”If you chose treatment though, maybe you wouldn’t be leaving so soon,” I say as a tear escapes my eye.

”Maybe not mate, but I know what happens with cancer treatment,” he says as he leans forward. ”Treatment might give you a few months, maybe another year but at what cost?”

”I don’t know a lot about cancer,” I admit to him.

”The treatment usually makes you deathly ill for weeks at a time,” he attempts to expand. ”What’s the point of prolonging the pain and agony? What’s the point of adding six months or so when you’re stuck in bed for more than half of it because you can’t fucking move?”

With a tilt of my head and a quick raise of my eyebrows, I concede to his points without verbal confirmation. Instead, I sit beside my closest ally, my best friend in the entire world thinking about what’s quite literally eating him inside. And it breaks my heart.

”I don’t want to sit here anymore,” he says as he rolls to his hands and knees. Standing up quickly, I grab a hold of both of his hands and help him to his feet. ”You know, this is part of the reason I wasn’t telling you,” he says with a smile and a bit of a laugh. ”You ought not be focused on me right now and you are. That’s what I didn’t want.”

Slowly, we resume strolling the perimeter. ”Yeah well, some things are more important than McGovern and his band of failed American soldiers,” I say while wrapping my arm over his shoulder. ”You’re way more important.”

”But I’m not really,” the sickly Englishman protests. ”Your priority needs to be wiping out the Ares Project once and for all.”

”I’mma get to it,” I reply facetiously as if I were a young teenager being scolded for keeping a messy bedroom.

”I’m serious mate,” he stops suddenly, throwing my arm off his shoulder. ”You need to stop fucking around and end those scumbags.”

Once he was finally let go from his duties as my Chief of Staff, his replacement, Dick Small, advised me to keep him on in a national security advisor kind of role, but I didn’t because I wanted him to just enjoy whatever life he had left without the pressures of helping me run a fucking nation. As such, he’s no longer privy to sensitive information like what’s coming down the pike in relation to the Ares Project.

”Coming soon to a battlefield near you,” I say with a smile. He smiles back and we resume our walk and talk.

”Do you ever regret wresting control of the Illuminatus from your father?” he asks me.

I shake my head slowly. ”Only every fucking day,” I joke.

”It was that night in Scotland,” he reminisces. ”You got the secure call from one of the Generals, I forget which...”

”It wasn’t a General,” I interrupt. ”It was Commander Brunson,” I remind him with a hand over my heart.

”Right, yeah… Brunson,” he remembers. He too places a hand over his heart. Brunson was killed in action last year when the Ares Project attacked the base in Berlin. ”That call changed everything.”

After the war in Italy and leading our men to victory in my second war securing Vatican City as an Illuminatus stronghold, which still exists to this day, and after my grandfather passed and my dad ascended to the throne, he saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to remove me from military operations and switched me to the Minister of State role. I didn’t mind that role but he took me away from leading the military.

The military hated the move because even as a teenager, I just had this remarkable mind for warfare. Strategically, I was a golden boy and not once did I ever ask something of my men that I wasn’t also willing to do myself. Whether it was in the trenches on the front lines or flying air missions, I was in the middle of it all. It earned their love and respect. It earned their loyalty.

As such, when my father made the unforgivable mistake of bombing an ISIS hideout without confirming the intelligence, the military asked me to take the reigns and they’d help me do it. We’re a lot of things, both good and bad, but child murderers we are not and that suspected ISIS stronghold, was actually a school for children.

My father sent nearly 300 Iraqi children to their graves that day.

I laugh out loud a moment. ”You tried telling me it was treason,” I recall. ”You remember what I told you?”

”That it’s only treason if we lose,” he says with a very slight laugh.

”That decision, from a leadership standpoint… it was easy,” I tell him. ”But as a son… it was the single hardest decision I’ve ever made.”

”Oh, I know it,” he agrees.

”It’s hard to fathom giving the green light to kill your own father if it came to it...” I stop suddenly as I realize Jim is no longer beside me. Turning to find him, I notice he’s about ten feet behind me, again leaning over with his hands on his knees.

”You alright?” I ask of him. It’s a silly question, of course he’s not alright. Regardless, he doesn’t answer. ”The palpitations again, Jim?”

”Thad,” he looks at me before standing upright while clutching his chest. ”Get a doctor.”

No sooner does he utter his plea, and he collapses to the ground gasping for air.

”JIM!” I cry out as I rush over to him. Sliding to my knees, I cradle his head in my arms as he continues to gasp for air. ”SOMEBODY HELP!”


PRESENT DAY


”Gentlemen,” I call over my radio. ”Acquire your designated targets,” I instruct them. Pointing the nose of my fighter toward the ship at the point of the hunt for Leviathan, I steady my path. Taking a peek to my left and right, my fellow fighters are doing the same. In what amounts to a steep dive, the warning alarms are sounding, breaking my concentration. With a flip of a switch, the alarm falls silent. A moment later, my weapons system is locked on the target.

”Fox One, Fox Two!” I call out, launching missiles toward the enemy ships. Streaks of light lead my jet and those alongside me, to their intended target. A moment later, fireballs erupt from the decks of several warships.

Swooping down, we pull up the noses of our crafts and fire our guns as we fly above the enemy ships. Many men run for their lives. So many of them are cut down as they try and retreat. All of it warms my very cold heart. Say what you will about me. I make no apologies for killing people that would give their lives in an effort to kill me and my children.

By the time we reach the end of the fleet, they’ve begun engaging their anti-aircraft batteries. Your only defense during battle such as this is dipping low above the water and below their decks. It sounds dangerous, but it really isn’t if you know how to fly. My pilots are seasoned veterans in their fourth war now. When a fighter pilot straps in and pulls down the canopy, you become less human and more machine. The jet and its controls become an extension of you. In my experience, its a thrill and a feeling unmatched in any other type of warfare.

Escaping out the backside of the fleet as they fire errant rockets and cannon fire in our direction, we perform a long arching sweep out of the Triangle just in time to watch the ship Leviathan torpedoed earlier, slip beneath the waves taking hopefully thousands of Ares Project terrorists to their watery graves.

What we’re quickly learning, is that they’re really not well trained in regards to anti-aircraft defense. While I’m unsure whether it’s just their nerves or their anxiety as it pertains to staring down my air force, they’re firing the wrong fucking rockets. It’s hard to tell at this speed what they’re using, but they should be using heat seeker missiles.

I gotta teach these fuckers everything.

Flying high again above the clouds as we near the tail end of the enemy fleet, the second wave enters the fray firing their missiles and cannons into the ships.

”General?” I call into the radio. ”Send out as many as we can. These jackasses aren’t using heat seekers.”

”The problem is fuel Sir,” he replies quickly. ”Landing these jets back on deck takes a lot of effort, manpower, and time. Send out too many and some jets my expel their fuel while waiting to land.”

Being a rookie in relation to naval warfare, I hadn’t considered that.

”How many more can we send while being comfortable with fuel and landing capacity?”

”We’re at our limit Sir,” the General replies. ”Naval warfare today, you send out a handful of jets at the most.”

”Thank you General,” I reply to him and no sooner do I do so and the jet next to me is blown out of the sky. ”FUCK! I shout out. ”Gentlemen, after this pass, we’re out of missiles. Stay with me and provide covering fire for the bombers. They switched to heat seekers so be ready for the flares.”

”On my mark,” I call out as we steep dive again toward the rear end of the fleet. ”Fox Three, Fox Four!” With the missiles away, we watch the streaks as they impact their targets before pulling up and begin firing again on the decks of the different ships.

The first bomber flies in, dropping its payload on the enemies. Some strike their targets, some fall into the ocean unimpeded. On one ship, there’s a gaping hole in its deck before the bomb explodes inside its hull, blowing the stern to pieces. It sinks to the bottom in less than five minutes while my heart smiles.

For what its worth, this first wave of battle doesn’t take all that long. Maybe a half hour before its time to fly back to the Vengeance and get reloaded. As instructed, the pilots under my command stay with me as we provide covering fire for the bombers. There were fourteen Ares Project ships when we started this. They’re down to eight and my own fleet hasn’t even arrived to the battle yet.

Aside from the one jet they managed to take out, they downed a bomber and three other jets. To be honest, it’s a small price to pay to ensure the complete annihilation of the Ares Project. With all crews now en route back to the carrier, I stay behind making a few circles around the fleet and survey the damage. There’s crews trying desperately to put out the fires but just one ship managed to escape almost fully intact and unabated. The one hunting Leviathan who by now, has gone beneath the surface in an effort to save themselves.

At the end of my flyover as I’m headed back toward the carrier, my incoming missile warnings begin. One, then three, then eight. At first, I just try to fly out of range but I don’t have the fuel left to go supersonic and also make it back to the carrier. Instead, I just wait as long as I can before dropping my flares.

[Image: RLuNc65.gif]


Peeking behind me, the enemy heat seekers chase the flares as I continue on to my destination.


DAYS AGO – WOOLWORTH TOWER


A couple weeks ago, back at the Compound, Jim had a major heart attack. 25 years old is way too young to die from cancer and its certainly way too young to suffer a major heart attack. The field medics rushed to help and a helicopter was called in. We had him at the emergency room in New Haven in less than fifteen minutes. I commend those doctors and medical professionals. They fought long and hard and lost Jim three times before bringing him back to me again.

It’s torture.

I’m completely helpless to stop what’s happening to him and I wish I could take it all away and make him feel good again. After a few days in the cardiac ward, he demanded his release. I’m not sure if it was toughness or stubbornness, but either way, he insisted he didn’t want to die in the hospital. I’m not sure I blame him. So, two days later, we took him home to New York and hired live-in nurses to tend to him.

Since he’s been home, I really haven’t left his side for very long. He sleeps a lot now, but a lot of that has to do with the morphine drip he’s on. So I sit here by his side, and I hold his hand while he slips in and out of consciousness.

Knowing I was due to leave for battle in a few hours and fearing that he might… pass before I return, I instructed his nurse to turn down his drip so I could get him awake for a few minutes.

”Mmmmmmmmm,” he groans as he comes to.

”Hey,” I say while quiet tears flow down my cheeks.

”Mate,” he says quietly.

”How are you feeling?” I ask stupidly, regretting it immediately. Even before I finished.

”Like…….. death,” he answers slowly.

”Do you feel it?” I ask before pausing. ”I mean, even when you’re unconscious?”

He darts his eyes toward me and nods slowly.

”I’m sorry buddy,” I say with a sniffle.

”Been better…...” he begins. His breath and his pain causes him to break up his own speech. ”If they……….. let me die……… in the E.R.”

”That’s my fault,” I say apologetically. ”I was selfish and wasn’t ready yet.”

Through his pain and suffering, he shoots me the slightest of smiles and squeezes my hand.

”I’m sorry I woke you up, mate. I just didn’t want...” my voice trails off. Trying hard to stop myself from breaking down, I look away from him.

That does not work.

”I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” I say to him through my sobs. ”I was afraid that if I went to battle you’d go and I wouldn’t be here.”

”I under…….. stand,” he replies, fighting through his pain. Even on his deathbed, he capitulates to me.

”Is your pain a ten?” I ask him while I compose myself. At first he doesn’t answer me. ”Jim, I need to know.”

”Times five,” he answers. His breathing is very labored and his chest heaves up and down. ”Take it………… away,” he pleads.

I nod my understanding. ”I’ll have the nurse put you back under,” I reply as a reach for his call button. He grabs my hand with his free hand and despite his sickness, his grip is strong. Looking up at him, he shakes his head slowly.

”What? I thought you said...” I stop myself from finishing my thought as I realize what he’s getting at. ”I can’t,” I answer him as my uncontrollable water works continue to flow.

”Even…… asleep,” he pleads. ”It hurts so much,” he cries out quickly as tears of his own fall from his eyes.

”Jim… I just...”

”It’s mercy,” he says, and he’s right.

”I can up the morphine and...”

”Too slow,” he protests. ”I’ll just….. suffer unconscious….. until it works.”

”How else would I...”

”Your pistol,” he interrupts and I just stare at him blankly for several moments. I sit quietly staring at him while he stares back at me. Thinking to myself what he’s going through, I try to put myself in his shoes and imagine if I were the one suffering. There’s few things quicker and more painless than a bullet through the brain.

Reaching for the holster on my thigh, I unsnap the strap and relieve it from its rest. Pulling the pistol out, I look at it and then at Jim.

”Here,” he says while weakly touching his temple.

Hesitantly, I nod my agreement and release the safety before pulling back the hammer. Taking a moment to once again compose and steel myself, with shaky hands I place the barrel against his head.

”I’d do…….. the same for you….” he says in a futile attempt to ease my apprehension.

”I know you would,” I reply with a sniffle. ”I love you mate,” I say to him while I continue to weep.

”I love……… you too,” he says with a squeeze of our hands.



















After a sniffle, I close my eyes.



















Fade to black.



















POP!


It’s fascinating to me Mark, that you would entertain the idea of having assassins run me down in a bus. Not only is that clever and a little funny, it’s also really telling to me. Imagine being the great Mark Flynn but also being just crazy enough to attempt murder on your opponents.

He was joking…. of course he was joking.

I mean, how would it look if the greatest wrestler of yesterday was challenged by the greatest wrestler of today AND tomorrow, the yesterday greatest hesitantly accepted such a challenge to perform against the today and tomorrow greatest… then resort to trying to have him killed before the big match has a chance to take place?

Not well, I think.

No, Mark is not having me killed.

Well, probably not.

He says he’s excited to face me and he should be. I am one hundred percent convinced that I’m the best fucking thing since sliced bread… even better than sliced bread if you ask me… and there’s really never a shortage of potential opponents. So the question on tap, is why Mark Flynn? Why did I spend two months going out on Warfare and trying to coax the SECOND most hated man in the XWF out of retirement and back into the ring to face yours truly?

The answer isn’t all that complicated. The fact is, while there’s never a shortage of opponents, I am however, running low on opponents that challenge me. I mean, really challenge me. The barrel is running empty on opponents that can take me to the limit and I don’t know Mark Flynn well enough to know if he really can take me to the very limit or not. What I do know, is that once upon a time he was a special talent within the landscape of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation and I have watched a few of his past matches to see just what he’s capable of.

He was good.

Damn good, in fact.

So good that I’d go out on a limb and say he was almost as good between the ropes as I am and while that may sound like I’m inflating my own ego or giving Mark a backhanded compliment, the truth is… it’s just a compliment. I know how fucking good I am when it comes to the action between the ropes and the only person, the only person, that I have faced so far in my career that I can even begin to consider a peer, as in, on my level, is Chris fucking Page.

That’s elite company.

Say what you want about him, say what you will about me… the fact of the matter is, promos aside, there isn’t a soul on the planet that can touch either of us when the bell rings and we go to work. Is Mark on that same level? I won’t know for sure until Sunday night when he’s standing across from me.

Therein lies the intrigue for me. He was good but is he still? Aside from the Wizard, he’s been stuck teaming with his little North Korean sidekick and it’s far harder to tell in tag team bouts just what someone is working with.

Do not misunderstand me because I have scouted him up, down, sideways, front and back. His matches in the past, his current matches, I’ve scouted them all so I know exactly what I’m dealing with. He certainly couldn’t out-wrestle me at War Games when I removed his mask.

Mark Flynn presents a new and unique challenge though, and I very much look forward to putting him down at Relentless. If I said I didn’t know I’d win all along I’d be lying, but facing someone you’ve never faced and who, at least at one time, was considered one of the best, is what this is about for me. How many times will the Rel Dixon’s and Ciela Luiz’s claim they want to face me, then get sent back down to the gutter where they belong when they inevitably realize they bit off way more than they can possibly fucking chew?

In my very experienced opinion though, Mark Flynn is making a very fatal mistake as it pertains to this match and everything we’re doing leading up to it. You all know what that is because it’s plain as day and I don’t even need to explicitly state what that mistake is. What’s more is, he knows its a mistake.

One promo in and he’s already resorting to Ned Kaye levels of desperate gimmicks in order to combat me. As fun and entertaining as those can be, they lack real substance in doing our jobs… you know… promoting the fact we have a match at all.

What it seems like to me is that he’s scouted me well enough to know that in the Iron Man match at Relentless, he’s in major fucking trouble. So much trouble that he’s abandoned all hope of seriously promoting this match up and instead, has chosen to ride it out until the end. He’ll no doubt give me the fight I want, but no matter how good he thinks he is, Flynn just doesn’t have enough to outclass the master classman of professional wrestling.

The way I see it, he’s already about three steps behind. And as of this moment, he just fell back two or three more.


[Image: NDdOtwO.png]
]]>
PRESENT DAY


Bermuda Triangle || Atlantic Ocean || 0802 Hours

I’ve mostly fallen silent. It’s ‘game time’ in a manner of speaking and I have to shake whatever personal thoughts that are in my mind. The lives of my men and women aboard Leviathan depend on it. There’s no guarantee that even if my air force invades their space as they’re hunting down the submarine, that they’ll focus all of their attention on all of us rather than the target in front of them. Warships are equipped to do both simultaneously.

”General?” I call out through the radio. ”You have a copy?” Reception has been sporadic, cutting in and out. I’m not sure how much of it is just the distance and altitude in which my air force is flying and how much of it is the Bermuda Triangle just doin’ her thing and playing games with our equipment.

”Yes sir?” he calls back, though the transmission is a bit garbled. ”You’re breaking up………………. Enough to understand.”

”Send two more waves,” I instruct him. ”Six jets, two bombers each.”

”……………...” comes the empty reply.

Back on board the Vengeance, I was so amped to fuck some shit up that I didn’t even think about this mission over all. I have enough planes and munitions that we can steady bombard these assholes from sun up to sun down until they just pray that we kill them.

”General?” I call out again. ”Repeat my order,” I plea to him, hoping they’re reading me back on board the carrier.

”Six more je…….. ore bombers,” he replies.

”Two waves, copy?”

”Roger………….”

Why I didn’t think of it while I was still aboard, I’ll never know and I’m hoping this doesn’t cost us. The other planes will catch up by the time we’re ready to open fire, but even still. This lapse in judgment might cost lives for the good guys.

”Hey mate?” Jim’s voice comes through my headset in his thick British accent. ”They heard your orders loud and clear.”

”Are they away yet?”

”Second wave getting set to launch now,” he informs me. ”What’s your plan out there?” he asks.

I don’t answer immediately. ”You remember in Thrones when Dany hit Kings Landing?” I ask of my best friend.

”Of course mate,” he replies. ”Even though we’ve always maintained that that series ended when the Night King used Viserion to melt the wall.”

”You got that right,” I say with a chuckle. ”When she hit Blackwater Bay and Euron’s fleet with Drogon...”

”Our baby boy,” he interjects, feigning emotional pride.

”She used a death from above kind of tactic,” I say with a laugh. ”They’re focused on the sea and Leviathan while we’re coming almost straight down from above.”

”Your controls work, right?” he asks.

”Yeah of course bro,” I reply quickly.

”Mate I remember Poland,” he says, referring to my first foray into leading the military when I was just a teenager. ”Those controls didn’t work so well and you had to eject.”

”You know I hadn’t thought about that in years,” I call back to him. ”Thank you so kindly for reminding me of the only time I was shot down.”

”I just want you landing safely on the flight deck in one piece mate,” he informs me. ”If we lose you it’s only a matter of time before the Ares Project wipes us all out.”

”Buddy you ought to know by now...”

”What’s that?”

”Plot armor keeps me alive,” I joke.

”Plot armor?” he laughs. ”And all this time I thought it was divine intervention,” he jokes back.

”If there is a God, Jim, I don’t thing he’s intervening on my behalf.”

”Probably up there with the apostles eating popcorn and rooting for the Ares Project.”

”Alright bro,” I say with a laugh. ”It’s go time.”

”Hit ‘em hard mate, be safe.”

Without another word from either of us, my crew dips beneath a cloud. Far below us, the Ares Project fleet is hunting down Leviathan.


WEEKS AGO


While the men and women of my armed forces ramp up their training in preparation for going to sea, Jim and I spend a lot of time together. Neither of us know how much time he has left and my own stubbornness caused us to lose the first several months of his disease. It’s all bittersweet, to be perfectly honest. Throughout your life, its far more common to not know when your time is up. When someone passes away, it’s more often sudden and unexpected. Their loved ones struggle to come to terms with the loss. Maybe that’s the root cause of my coldness toward him in those first few months. He was gonna let me lose him suddenly.

Having had time since then to think about things, I wish I had confronted him about it sooner. He’s family to me and instead of spending as much time as we possibly could together in his last months or year of his life, we ended up spending the majority of that time separated. I’ll regret that until my own dying breath.

”Mate, you remember before you were King and you were just the Minister of State?” he asks as we stroll the perimeter. I nod my response, smiling warmly. ”We had that official visit to Scotland and they gave you that warm tribute to Father Asmodeus?” he reminds me.

”Yeah that was somethin’ else bro.”

”You wore that kilt to the show and complained for two hours how much it itched your nether regions,” he reminds me with a chuckle.

”I didn’t know you were supposed to wear stuff underneath,” I give him a chuckle of my own. “No one told me.”

”You did discover your love of Bagpipes though.”

”I’m itching right now just thinking of that fucking kilt,” I reply before switching gears. ”And the Bagpipes though… god what a beautiful sound.”

”You remember, that was also the first time you ever got drunk?” he continues to reminisce. ”The Premier gave you this real expensive bottle of Scotch and we drank it on the plane on the way to Germany.”

”I’ve had concussions Jim,” I begin my retort. ”A few of them, and I’ve never had a worse migraine than after drinking that fucking Scotch,” I say with a life.

”That’s when shit got real,” he stops in stride, taking shallow but increasingly deeper breaths while clutching his chest.

”You alright?” I ask, stopping to help any way I can while placing my hand on his shoulder.

”Palpitations,” he says with a nod.

”That happen a lot?” I ask with genuine concern in my voice.

”It didn’t used to,” he answers while leaning over and placing his hands on his knees in an effort to rest and let his fluttering heart calm down. ”These started about a month ago, maybe six weeks,” he explains. ”But they’ve gotten worse.”

”C’mon Jimmy, let’s just sit,” I tell him while helping him to the ground. ”Why’d you never get treatment?”

”Because I refused to see the doctor for too long,” he answers while his heartbeat slows. ”When you fake fired me to force me to go to a doctor, it was already metastasized to my heart,” he explains.

”I don’t really know what that means,” I admit to him.

”The cancer had already spread to my heart,” he explains further. ”They could have done surgery to try and remove it, but the odds were slim that there’d be enough heart left to… you know… live. So I chose not to have treatment.”

”If you chose treatment though, maybe you wouldn’t be leaving so soon,” I say as a tear escapes my eye.

”Maybe not mate, but I know what happens with cancer treatment,” he says as he leans forward. ”Treatment might give you a few months, maybe another year but at what cost?”

”I don’t know a lot about cancer,” I admit to him.

”The treatment usually makes you deathly ill for weeks at a time,” he attempts to expand. ”What’s the point of prolonging the pain and agony? What’s the point of adding six months or so when you’re stuck in bed for more than half of it because you can’t fucking move?”

With a tilt of my head and a quick raise of my eyebrows, I concede to his points without verbal confirmation. Instead, I sit beside my closest ally, my best friend in the entire world thinking about what’s quite literally eating him inside. And it breaks my heart.

”I don’t want to sit here anymore,” he says as he rolls to his hands and knees. Standing up quickly, I grab a hold of both of his hands and help him to his feet. ”You know, this is part of the reason I wasn’t telling you,” he says with a smile and a bit of a laugh. ”You ought not be focused on me right now and you are. That’s what I didn’t want.”

Slowly, we resume strolling the perimeter. ”Yeah well, some things are more important than McGovern and his band of failed American soldiers,” I say while wrapping my arm over his shoulder. ”You’re way more important.”

”But I’m not really,” the sickly Englishman protests. ”Your priority needs to be wiping out the Ares Project once and for all.”

”I’mma get to it,” I reply facetiously as if I were a young teenager being scolded for keeping a messy bedroom.

”I’m serious mate,” he stops suddenly, throwing my arm off his shoulder. ”You need to stop fucking around and end those scumbags.”

Once he was finally let go from his duties as my Chief of Staff, his replacement, Dick Small, advised me to keep him on in a national security advisor kind of role, but I didn’t because I wanted him to just enjoy whatever life he had left without the pressures of helping me run a fucking nation. As such, he’s no longer privy to sensitive information like what’s coming down the pike in relation to the Ares Project.

”Coming soon to a battlefield near you,” I say with a smile. He smiles back and we resume our walk and talk.

”Do you ever regret wresting control of the Illuminatus from your father?” he asks me.

I shake my head slowly. ”Only every fucking day,” I joke.

”It was that night in Scotland,” he reminisces. ”You got the secure call from one of the Generals, I forget which...”

”It wasn’t a General,” I interrupt. ”It was Commander Brunson,” I remind him with a hand over my heart.

”Right, yeah… Brunson,” he remembers. He too places a hand over his heart. Brunson was killed in action last year when the Ares Project attacked the base in Berlin. ”That call changed everything.”

After the war in Italy and leading our men to victory in my second war securing Vatican City as an Illuminatus stronghold, which still exists to this day, and after my grandfather passed and my dad ascended to the throne, he saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to remove me from military operations and switched me to the Minister of State role. I didn’t mind that role but he took me away from leading the military.

The military hated the move because even as a teenager, I just had this remarkable mind for warfare. Strategically, I was a golden boy and not once did I ever ask something of my men that I wasn’t also willing to do myself. Whether it was in the trenches on the front lines or flying air missions, I was in the middle of it all. It earned their love and respect. It earned their loyalty.

As such, when my father made the unforgivable mistake of bombing an ISIS hideout without confirming the intelligence, the military asked me to take the reigns and they’d help me do it. We’re a lot of things, both good and bad, but child murderers we are not and that suspected ISIS stronghold, was actually a school for children.

My father sent nearly 300 Iraqi children to their graves that day.

I laugh out loud a moment. ”You tried telling me it was treason,” I recall. ”You remember what I told you?”

”That it’s only treason if we lose,” he says with a very slight laugh.

”That decision, from a leadership standpoint… it was easy,” I tell him. ”But as a son… it was the single hardest decision I’ve ever made.”

”Oh, I know it,” he agrees.

”It’s hard to fathom giving the green light to kill your own father if it came to it...” I stop suddenly as I realize Jim is no longer beside me. Turning to find him, I notice he’s about ten feet behind me, again leaning over with his hands on his knees.

”You alright?” I ask of him. It’s a silly question, of course he’s not alright. Regardless, he doesn’t answer. ”The palpitations again, Jim?”

”Thad,” he looks at me before standing upright while clutching his chest. ”Get a doctor.”

No sooner does he utter his plea, and he collapses to the ground gasping for air.

”JIM!” I cry out as I rush over to him. Sliding to my knees, I cradle his head in my arms as he continues to gasp for air. ”SOMEBODY HELP!”


PRESENT DAY


”Gentlemen,” I call over my radio. ”Acquire your designated targets,” I instruct them. Pointing the nose of my fighter toward the ship at the point of the hunt for Leviathan, I steady my path. Taking a peek to my left and right, my fellow fighters are doing the same. In what amounts to a steep dive, the warning alarms are sounding, breaking my concentration. With a flip of a switch, the alarm falls silent. A moment later, my weapons system is locked on the target.

”Fox One, Fox Two!” I call out, launching missiles toward the enemy ships. Streaks of light lead my jet and those alongside me, to their intended target. A moment later, fireballs erupt from the decks of several warships.

Swooping down, we pull up the noses of our crafts and fire our guns as we fly above the enemy ships. Many men run for their lives. So many of them are cut down as they try and retreat. All of it warms my very cold heart. Say what you will about me. I make no apologies for killing people that would give their lives in an effort to kill me and my children.

By the time we reach the end of the fleet, they’ve begun engaging their anti-aircraft batteries. Your only defense during battle such as this is dipping low above the water and below their decks. It sounds dangerous, but it really isn’t if you know how to fly. My pilots are seasoned veterans in their fourth war now. When a fighter pilot straps in and pulls down the canopy, you become less human and more machine. The jet and its controls become an extension of you. In my experience, its a thrill and a feeling unmatched in any other type of warfare.

Escaping out the backside of the fleet as they fire errant rockets and cannon fire in our direction, we perform a long arching sweep out of the Triangle just in time to watch the ship Leviathan torpedoed earlier, slip beneath the waves taking hopefully thousands of Ares Project terrorists to their watery graves.

What we’re quickly learning, is that they’re really not well trained in regards to anti-aircraft defense. While I’m unsure whether it’s just their nerves or their anxiety as it pertains to staring down my air force, they’re firing the wrong fucking rockets. It’s hard to tell at this speed what they’re using, but they should be using heat seeker missiles.

I gotta teach these fuckers everything.

Flying high again above the clouds as we near the tail end of the enemy fleet, the second wave enters the fray firing their missiles and cannons into the ships.

”General?” I call into the radio. ”Send out as many as we can. These jackasses aren’t using heat seekers.”

”The problem is fuel Sir,” he replies quickly. ”Landing these jets back on deck takes a lot of effort, manpower, and time. Send out too many and some jets my expel their fuel while waiting to land.”

Being a rookie in relation to naval warfare, I hadn’t considered that.

”How many more can we send while being comfortable with fuel and landing capacity?”

”We’re at our limit Sir,” the General replies. ”Naval warfare today, you send out a handful of jets at the most.”

”Thank you General,” I reply to him and no sooner do I do so and the jet next to me is blown out of the sky. ”FUCK! I shout out. ”Gentlemen, after this pass, we’re out of missiles. Stay with me and provide covering fire for the bombers. They switched to heat seekers so be ready for the flares.”

”On my mark,” I call out as we steep dive again toward the rear end of the fleet. ”Fox Three, Fox Four!” With the missiles away, we watch the streaks as they impact their targets before pulling up and begin firing again on the decks of the different ships.

The first bomber flies in, dropping its payload on the enemies. Some strike their targets, some fall into the ocean unimpeded. On one ship, there’s a gaping hole in its deck before the bomb explodes inside its hull, blowing the stern to pieces. It sinks to the bottom in less than five minutes while my heart smiles.

For what its worth, this first wave of battle doesn’t take all that long. Maybe a half hour before its time to fly back to the Vengeance and get reloaded. As instructed, the pilots under my command stay with me as we provide covering fire for the bombers. There were fourteen Ares Project ships when we started this. They’re down to eight and my own fleet hasn’t even arrived to the battle yet.

Aside from the one jet they managed to take out, they downed a bomber and three other jets. To be honest, it’s a small price to pay to ensure the complete annihilation of the Ares Project. With all crews now en route back to the carrier, I stay behind making a few circles around the fleet and survey the damage. There’s crews trying desperately to put out the fires but just one ship managed to escape almost fully intact and unabated. The one hunting Leviathan who by now, has gone beneath the surface in an effort to save themselves.

At the end of my flyover as I’m headed back toward the carrier, my incoming missile warnings begin. One, then three, then eight. At first, I just try to fly out of range but I don’t have the fuel left to go supersonic and also make it back to the carrier. Instead, I just wait as long as I can before dropping my flares.

[Image: RLuNc65.gif]


Peeking behind me, the enemy heat seekers chase the flares as I continue on to my destination.


DAYS AGO – WOOLWORTH TOWER


A couple weeks ago, back at the Compound, Jim had a major heart attack. 25 years old is way too young to die from cancer and its certainly way too young to suffer a major heart attack. The field medics rushed to help and a helicopter was called in. We had him at the emergency room in New Haven in less than fifteen minutes. I commend those doctors and medical professionals. They fought long and hard and lost Jim three times before bringing him back to me again.

It’s torture.

I’m completely helpless to stop what’s happening to him and I wish I could take it all away and make him feel good again. After a few days in the cardiac ward, he demanded his release. I’m not sure if it was toughness or stubbornness, but either way, he insisted he didn’t want to die in the hospital. I’m not sure I blame him. So, two days later, we took him home to New York and hired live-in nurses to tend to him.

Since he’s been home, I really haven’t left his side for very long. He sleeps a lot now, but a lot of that has to do with the morphine drip he’s on. So I sit here by his side, and I hold his hand while he slips in and out of consciousness.

Knowing I was due to leave for battle in a few hours and fearing that he might… pass before I return, I instructed his nurse to turn down his drip so I could get him awake for a few minutes.

”Mmmmmmmmm,” he groans as he comes to.

”Hey,” I say while quiet tears flow down my cheeks.

”Mate,” he says quietly.

”How are you feeling?” I ask stupidly, regretting it immediately. Even before I finished.

”Like…….. death,” he answers slowly.

”Do you feel it?” I ask before pausing. ”I mean, even when you’re unconscious?”

He darts his eyes toward me and nods slowly.

”I’m sorry buddy,” I say with a sniffle.

”Been better…...” he begins. His breath and his pain causes him to break up his own speech. ”If they……….. let me die……… in the E.R.”

”That’s my fault,” I say apologetically. ”I was selfish and wasn’t ready yet.”

Through his pain and suffering, he shoots me the slightest of smiles and squeezes my hand.

”I’m sorry I woke you up, mate. I just didn’t want...” my voice trails off. Trying hard to stop myself from breaking down, I look away from him.

That does not work.

”I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” I say to him through my sobs. ”I was afraid that if I went to battle you’d go and I wouldn’t be here.”

”I under…….. stand,” he replies, fighting through his pain. Even on his deathbed, he capitulates to me.

”Is your pain a ten?” I ask him while I compose myself. At first he doesn’t answer me. ”Jim, I need to know.”

”Times five,” he answers. His breathing is very labored and his chest heaves up and down. ”Take it………… away,” he pleads.

I nod my understanding. ”I’ll have the nurse put you back under,” I reply as a reach for his call button. He grabs my hand with his free hand and despite his sickness, his grip is strong. Looking up at him, he shakes his head slowly.

”What? I thought you said...” I stop myself from finishing my thought as I realize what he’s getting at. ”I can’t,” I answer him as my uncontrollable water works continue to flow.

”Even…… asleep,” he pleads. ”It hurts so much,” he cries out quickly as tears of his own fall from his eyes.

”Jim… I just...”

”It’s mercy,” he says, and he’s right.

”I can up the morphine and...”

”Too slow,” he protests. ”I’ll just….. suffer unconscious….. until it works.”

”How else would I...”

”Your pistol,” he interrupts and I just stare at him blankly for several moments. I sit quietly staring at him while he stares back at me. Thinking to myself what he’s going through, I try to put myself in his shoes and imagine if I were the one suffering. There’s few things quicker and more painless than a bullet through the brain.

Reaching for the holster on my thigh, I unsnap the strap and relieve it from its rest. Pulling the pistol out, I look at it and then at Jim.

”Here,” he says while weakly touching his temple.

Hesitantly, I nod my agreement and release the safety before pulling back the hammer. Taking a moment to once again compose and steel myself, with shaky hands I place the barrel against his head.

”I’d do…….. the same for you….” he says in a futile attempt to ease my apprehension.

”I know you would,” I reply with a sniffle. ”I love you mate,” I say to him while I continue to weep.

”I love……… you too,” he says with a squeeze of our hands.



















After a sniffle, I close my eyes.



















Fade to black.



















POP!


It’s fascinating to me Mark, that you would entertain the idea of having assassins run me down in a bus. Not only is that clever and a little funny, it’s also really telling to me. Imagine being the great Mark Flynn but also being just crazy enough to attempt murder on your opponents.

He was joking…. of course he was joking.

I mean, how would it look if the greatest wrestler of yesterday was challenged by the greatest wrestler of today AND tomorrow, the yesterday greatest hesitantly accepted such a challenge to perform against the today and tomorrow greatest… then resort to trying to have him killed before the big match has a chance to take place?

Not well, I think.

No, Mark is not having me killed.

Well, probably not.

He says he’s excited to face me and he should be. I am one hundred percent convinced that I’m the best fucking thing since sliced bread… even better than sliced bread if you ask me… and there’s really never a shortage of potential opponents. So the question on tap, is why Mark Flynn? Why did I spend two months going out on Warfare and trying to coax the SECOND most hated man in the XWF out of retirement and back into the ring to face yours truly?

The answer isn’t all that complicated. The fact is, while there’s never a shortage of opponents, I am however, running low on opponents that challenge me. I mean, really challenge me. The barrel is running empty on opponents that can take me to the limit and I don’t know Mark Flynn well enough to know if he really can take me to the very limit or not. What I do know, is that once upon a time he was a special talent within the landscape of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation and I have watched a few of his past matches to see just what he’s capable of.

He was good.

Damn good, in fact.

So good that I’d go out on a limb and say he was almost as good between the ropes as I am and while that may sound like I’m inflating my own ego or giving Mark a backhanded compliment, the truth is… it’s just a compliment. I know how fucking good I am when it comes to the action between the ropes and the only person, the only person, that I have faced so far in my career that I can even begin to consider a peer, as in, on my level, is Chris fucking Page.

That’s elite company.

Say what you want about him, say what you will about me… the fact of the matter is, promos aside, there isn’t a soul on the planet that can touch either of us when the bell rings and we go to work. Is Mark on that same level? I won’t know for sure until Sunday night when he’s standing across from me.

Therein lies the intrigue for me. He was good but is he still? Aside from the Wizard, he’s been stuck teaming with his little North Korean sidekick and it’s far harder to tell in tag team bouts just what someone is working with.

Do not misunderstand me because I have scouted him up, down, sideways, front and back. His matches in the past, his current matches, I’ve scouted them all so I know exactly what I’m dealing with. He certainly couldn’t out-wrestle me at War Games when I removed his mask.

Mark Flynn presents a new and unique challenge though, and I very much look forward to putting him down at Relentless. If I said I didn’t know I’d win all along I’d be lying, but facing someone you’ve never faced and who, at least at one time, was considered one of the best, is what this is about for me. How many times will the Rel Dixon’s and Ciela Luiz’s claim they want to face me, then get sent back down to the gutter where they belong when they inevitably realize they bit off way more than they can possibly fucking chew?

In my very experienced opinion though, Mark Flynn is making a very fatal mistake as it pertains to this match and everything we’re doing leading up to it. You all know what that is because it’s plain as day and I don’t even need to explicitly state what that mistake is. What’s more is, he knows its a mistake.

One promo in and he’s already resorting to Ned Kaye levels of desperate gimmicks in order to combat me. As fun and entertaining as those can be, they lack real substance in doing our jobs… you know… promoting the fact we have a match at all.

What it seems like to me is that he’s scouted me well enough to know that in the Iron Man match at Relentless, he’s in major fucking trouble. So much trouble that he’s abandoned all hope of seriously promoting this match up and instead, has chosen to ride it out until the end. He’ll no doubt give me the fight I want, but no matter how good he thinks he is, Flynn just doesn’t have enough to outclass the master classman of professional wrestling.

The way I see it, he’s already about three steps behind. And as of this moment, he just fell back two or three more.


[Image: NDdOtwO.png]
]]>