<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Bad Medicine 2021]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Tue, 02 Jun 2026 15:59:17 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Nickleman Is Still A Family Man]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42322 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 23:59:12 -0800 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42322 [Image: catedral-de-nuestra-senora.jpg]

The elderly priest nodded solemnly as he hobbled away from the podium and left the stage. Some sniffling and crying was heard throughout the gathered congregation spread around the sanctum. The priest nodded to a suit wearing Charlie Nickles as he prepared to take the stage himself. The priest raised a judgemental eyebrow as he noticed the 24/7 Freestyle Championship wrapped around The Nickleman’s suit jacket. Charlie rolled his head in a slow circle on his neck before he glanced back down at the printed out pages in his hands. The Nickleman wiped away a single bead of perspiration as he walked up to the podium and placed his pre-written speech down on top of it.

Charlie clears his throat as he looks out over the predominantly Mexican crowd. As the former champion’s gaze rolled through the dejected attendees he couldn’t help but pause as his eyes landed on an old familiar friend.

Dolly Waters nodded at Charlie from the pew as he shuffled his papers one last time. She was taken aback when The Nickleman winked at her from up on high. Before Charlie began his speech he started softly tapping the wooden podium top. The spirit of Jesus Christ looks down at Charlie disapprovingly from the mounted cross on the wall behind the podium.

We are here today to join in the celebration of life. So wipe your tears, blow your noses, and open up your hearts as we commemorate Maria Gonzalez’s life this evening. I know she touched all of us in this room, but I should let it be known: Maria likely touched me more than she ever touched most of you. She touched me a lot, and I touched her, too. Maria touched me in ways you could never even imagine, and every few months I can’t help but drop trow and start remembering all the beautiful ways she touched me. I’m not too proud of a man to admit that I’ve been lonely since I lost my Goldilocks, and in moments of weakness I can’t help but reminisce about my previous sexual conquests.

The bond between Maria and I was strong- so strong, in fact, that I suspect many of you yodels and yahoos down here can’t even begin to relate to it. The type of relationships that I was willing to give Maria is rare, incredibly rare. Her and I had the kind of bond that is almost impossible for humans to break. While Maria was nowhere close to my precious Goldilocks in terms of beauty, importance, prestige, talent, or vaginal tightness she was still a valuable fuckbuddy in her own right.

The crowd murmurs loudly in discontent as Charlie Nickles licks his finger before using it to flip the first page of his speech over. You can almost swear that Jesus Christ on the cross is looking down at tonight's events with a sorrowful sob.

I don’t think Maria Gonzalez ever truly understood what a friends with benefits situation was, but I’ll tell you this: she understood professional wrestling better than anyone else I’ve ever met. Maria Gonzalez, for all her faults and flaws, was a true woman of the business. She was nothing like most of these other broads that run around the industry today, that’s for damn sure. Maria genuinely respected this sport and she had genuine belief in her abilities inside that ring.

That’s why Maria never had to use sex to sell tickets or move merchadise. That’s how we know that Maria Gonzalez was a legitimate luchadorA, and not just another shooting star ring rat. We need to remember Maria Gonzalez’s life when she was at her best, when she was riding my cock and training hard for all her championship matches.

See……

Boos reverberate from the crowd as Maria’s close friends and family begin to grow restless. We cut to a brief shot of Dolly Waters staring daggers up at the stage. Latina Submission Machina is nowhere to be seen as Charlie chuckles softly to himself during her mother’s eulogy.

There are three types of women that make it big in the world of pro wrestling. There are great women, there are good women, and then there are dirty ring rats who do nothing but leech off of whatever weak man they can dig their claws into.

Goldilocks is a great woman. She is the greatest woman in the world of professional wrestling, in fact. Her lustrous beauty has a shine that is unmatched. She is a glowing, living, breathing monument to the excellence and tradition of the X-treme Wrestling Federation. She’s the kind of woman every man, and even most women, dream about.

Maria Gonazalez wasn’t a great woman like Goldilocks, but don’t you dare hold that against her! We can’t all become divinity incarnate, that’s just not how destiny works. That’s why we have to appreciate good women like Maria on their own merits.

Various voices in the crowd rise in objection to the eulogy.

¡Idiota!

¡Cállate!

¡Bájate del escenario!

Charlie brushed off the hecklers with ease. Being the single most controversial wrestler in today’s XWF seems to have thickened Charlie’s skin.

Maria Gonzalez actually had the chops to make it in the world of professional wrestling on her own merits. Her credentials are unquestionable, her legacy has more than been solidified. Her career has proven this fundamental axiom true: women can be just as capable and successful inside of the squared circle as men.

While good women like Maria may appear small and insignificant when compared to golden greatness, that should by no means be the standard! For us to really appreciate all that Maria offered this world, I say we turn our heads…...up. Towards space.

Please, do as I do.

Charlie looks up towards the ceiling of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Cathedral. He is the only person in the church who does so. Most everyone else is either crossing their arms, looking away, or standing up to leave.

If we really want to appreciate Maria’s earthly presence we need only look at the travesties that come to us from space. The bad women come from outer space….

I never knew my ex-wife Connie was a space alien time traveler, but the clues are all starting to fit together. I mean, I know none of you know the bitch, but she’s an awful lot like that Betsy Granger.

Narcissistic and deluded.

These disgusting traits are all too common among professional wrestling’s shooting stars. This little quartet of words could describe nearly 2/3rds of what used to be the XWF’s most pathetic and overrated division. Jenny Myst? A pathological narcissist, Doc’ can attest to that. And Deluded? Well, that’s about the best damn word there is to describe Dukey’s little pay per view efforts.

Maria Gonazalez was neither narcissistic nor deluded. She eschewed these traits and proved to be the real latina deal. That’s why Maria’s a good woman.

Betsy Granger, however? She checks all those boxes over and over and over again. It’s like common sense and mild manners are absolutely alien to that time traveling xenomorph. Let’s just run down the list. Hearing about Betsy’s personal failings will help shine a light on the phenomenal successes of Maria Gonazalez, a Charlie-certified good woman.

¡Deja de hacer esto sobre ti! ¡Esto es por María, bastardo!

Charlie Nickles looked up from his pre-written speech to give a toothy grin and a clueless thumbs up to the middle-aged man who interjected. The Nickleman flipped to the next page of the eulogy as he continued his offensive tirade.

Deluded? Check.

Let’s just say that Derek Jeter, Kobe Bryant, and Dirk Nowitzki never had to brag about how many different leagues they played in. You don’t hear too many guys in the NFL bragging about picking up a second job in arena football to pay the bills in the offseason!

I did what Betsy Granger is doing now for TWENTY YEARS, and it was absolute DOGSHIT. Having to travel from company to company, with no stability and no guarantees on whether you’ll have a job there next week? That’s not something to brag about! I was absolutely ecstatic to sign a full-time contract with the XWF that keeps me here full time.

I only wonder why they wouldn’t offer Betsy a similar contract. I don’t like Betsy anymore than the XWF’s lawyers after her latest FCC violation, but even I don’t think she should have to bust her ass in all these minor league federations!

But hell, let’s put all that minor league fuckery to the side for a moment. Betsy’s delusions run far deeper than just misplaced braggadocio. I mean, by God, she’s given herself a ridiculous case of self-induced amnesia! She had the gall to ask ME, of ALL people, what I’ve accomplished in the last twelve months!

ME! OF ALL PEOPLE!

While wearing the TV championship belt around her waist, she asked me what I’ve done this year! I have managed to accomplish more in the last year than Betsy Granger ever will in her entire career: point blank, period. I held Goldilocks for longer than Betsy Granger will ever hold any championship belt, EVER, no matter where she competes! She couldn’t hold the my little pony league participation trophy for as long as I held onto the most defended belt in XWF history. Betsy couldn’t even sniff the halfway point of my reign with the Shooting Star Championship!

But let’s put legendary championship runs aside. I drafted a better war games team than Betsy DESPITE having a worse picking number! Then my team competed in the finals while Betsy’s salty ass sucked on a bird-sized pecker on the sidelines! You know, kind of like what happened at March Madness. Betsy can claim she ‘won the night’ all she wants, those kinds of moral victories have never interested me. Moral victories were never of any interest to Maria, either, because she had the skills to earn REAL victories…....but let’s move on.

The crowd’s boos grow louder and louder but Charlie Nickles remains unperturbed as he carries on his thoughtful eulogization of LSM’s madre.

¡Eres el estúpido!

More people get up and walk out of the cathedral as one middle-aged man in particular seems to be getting increasingly agitated.

Narcissist? Check.

This one is self-evident! FUCK!

Charlie Nickles looks back at Jesus Christ on the cross behind him. Charlie smiles at Jesus and tips his imaginary cap to him.

I mean, HOLY fuck!

As Charlie turns back to speak to the enraged crowd you could swear Jesus seemed to be staring judgmentally into The Nickleman’s soul...

That woman did exactly what I predicted she would do last week: she made this entire match about herself!

¡Deja de hablar de tu pareja, idiota! ¡Esto es un funeral!

She thinks I’m entering The Barclays Center with the sole intent to maim and kill Betsy Granger? By God, I have that ego-tripping fraudster shaking in her boots already. No wonder she is having such scary dreams, she literally thinks she is going to die tomorrow night…..when in reality, the only thing I care about is leaving The Barclays Center with my Goldilocks. Whatever else happens, happens. If it just takes one Devil Hook Drop to the head to maim or kill Betsy well, that’s not really my problem, is it?

Well….I suppose the time has come to say our final goodbyes.

Charlie Nickles looks out at the crowd now, which has thinned to just two people- an angry middle aged man and Dolly Waters. Charlie shrugs before turning back to face the open coffin set up behind him. He steps up to Maria’s stiff corpse and brushes his hand tenderly against her cheek. He kneels down in front of her corpse and whispers into her ear.

¡ALÉJESE DE ELLA, FALSO ENFERMO!

BANG BANG BANG

BANG BANG BANG

Six shots from a revolver ring out in the sanctum as the middle aged man stands up and starts shooting the stage from his pew. Dolly Waters screams as she tries to grab her crutches. Charlie Nickles instinctively ducks. He feels a bullet graze his shoulders as he dives beneath the coffin. He hears another three bullets rip through the walls behind him.

The shooting stops.

The sound of the gunfire is immediately familiar to Charlie. He recognizes it as the exact same type of gunfire he heard the night someone made an attempt on his life.

¡Voy a sacar a este hijo de puta para siempre esta vez!

Charlie hears the sound of someone reloading a revolver. From beneath the lifted coffin he looks at the back wall and up at the cross. Charlie sees a streak of red ichor running down Jesus’s crown of thorns from a small hole in his head. Charlie slides out from beneath the coffin hurriedly. As he picks himself up to his feet he sees that the final bullet went through the coffin. Charlie is downright mortified to see that the stray bullet went through Maria’s head inside of the coffin, as well. Brain matter and blood are splattered across the pillowy inside of the coffin causing Charlie to scream bloody murder.

Charlie!

Charlie looks over at Dolly Waters who is struggling to stand with her crutches. He then looks over at the shooter who is reloading his firearm. The man accidentally lets the bullet casings slip through his fingers. The shooter glares up at Charlie before scurrying down to the ground to reload his munitions. Charlie takes a mental picture of the man before sprinting over to Dolly Waters.

Charlie picks Dolly up by the waist and flings her over his shoulders as he hears a pistol being cocked back. Charlie and Dolly burst through the doors of the cathedral as he hears another stream of gunfire go off. Charlie runs off in the distance with Dolly Waters over his shoulder as the shooter steps up to the doors of the cathedral wistfully. He glares out into the horizon and promises ultimate revenge as he hears sirens closing in.

Fade to black.

APPROXIMATELY THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER…...


Charlie and Dolly are standing next to each other in some nondescript room in the back of a church. Dolly is on crutches and wearing black pants and a black, buttoned-up overcoat. Charlie is wearing a nice suit and looking down at a stack of papers, reading the words on the pages silently to himself.

I hope you weren’t planning to say anything, I’m not sure Robyn wants that….

I have to speak. I have an epic speech ready.

You should at least let me look at it beforehand.

A worried expression flashed across Dolly’s face as Charlie looked at her. He shrugged and agreed.

Sure. I have another copy here so you can read it while I keep practicing.

Charlie reached into his suit coat and pulled out a slightly smaller stack of papers. Dolly didn’t seem to notice the difference.

You came this prepared?

Maria meant a lot to me. I wanted to make sure I got this right, and ever since I left my notes in a Denny’s bathroom at my Uncle Leo’s funeral I’ve always made sure to bring an extra copy.

Dolly looks over the speech as Charlie continues to practice.

You know, this is actually pretty good Charlie!

She hands the decoy speech back to Charlie.

Thanks, Dolly. I worked really hard on this whole setup

I can see that!

Dolly flashes a smile at Charlie as he tucks both speeches into his suitcoat.

“Ugh, what are you doing here?”

LSM walks into the room and leans on the doorframe, crossing her arms as she stares at Charlie.

Look, LSM, I know we got off to a rocky start….but I have something you’re going to want to see.

Keep your cock in your pants you fucking weirdo!

LSM glared at Charlie. Dolly looked at LSM with surprise: she’d never heard her speak like such a sailor before, nor with such contempt.

I have something from your mom. A handwritten letter.

A-what?

Charlie reached into his suit coat and walked up to LSM. He pulled out a wrinkled letter with beautiful Spanish cursive on it. He handed it to LSM, who looked down at it briefly before looking back up at Charlie.

What’s it say?

I don’t know, it’s in spanish. Your mother gave it to me right before I left Mexico and that wrestling camp for good.

Charlie looks around his immediate surroundings

Well, or so I thought. But it’s in Spanish, I’ve never been able to read it. I have no idea what it says, but I thought you might like to have something from your mom’s younger days.

Charlie, I don’t know what to say. This is so nice. This- this…..

LSM looked down at the letter Maria wrote to Charlie and began reading it. Dolly looked on with a warm heart and a big smile.

About ten seconds of healing and tenderness go by before LSM immediately turns red hot and starts screaming at Charlie.

¡MADRE PADRE! ¡NO NO! ¡ESO NO! ¡ESO NO! ¡ESTO TIENE QUE SER FALSO! ¡¿POR QUÉ FALSARÍAS ESTO ?! ¡DEBO MATARTE!

What’s she saying, Dolly?!

I don’t know Charlie, I don't speak Spanish that well- but I think she’s saying it has to be fake!

No LSM, it’s not fake! Your mother really wrote that for me about twenty or so years ago!

¡¿QUÉ ESTAS DICIENDO?! ¡NO ERES MI PADRE! ¡NO! ¡MI MAMÁ NUNCA LO HARÍA!

LSM looked at the letter with tears in her eyes then up to Charlie in disgust. She held onto the letter as she ran out of the room in tears.

What did you do?!

I just gave her that letter!

What did it say?!

I don’t know, I don’t speak spanish!

Didn’t you ever think to google translate it?!?!

Charlie looked back at Dolly with embarrassment as the scene faded to black.]]> [Image: catedral-de-nuestra-senora.jpg]

The elderly priest nodded solemnly as he hobbled away from the podium and left the stage. Some sniffling and crying was heard throughout the gathered congregation spread around the sanctum. The priest nodded to a suit wearing Charlie Nickles as he prepared to take the stage himself. The priest raised a judgemental eyebrow as he noticed the 24/7 Freestyle Championship wrapped around The Nickleman’s suit jacket. Charlie rolled his head in a slow circle on his neck before he glanced back down at the printed out pages in his hands. The Nickleman wiped away a single bead of perspiration as he walked up to the podium and placed his pre-written speech down on top of it.

Charlie clears his throat as he looks out over the predominantly Mexican crowd. As the former champion’s gaze rolled through the dejected attendees he couldn’t help but pause as his eyes landed on an old familiar friend.

Dolly Waters nodded at Charlie from the pew as he shuffled his papers one last time. She was taken aback when The Nickleman winked at her from up on high. Before Charlie began his speech he started softly tapping the wooden podium top. The spirit of Jesus Christ looks down at Charlie disapprovingly from the mounted cross on the wall behind the podium.

We are here today to join in the celebration of life. So wipe your tears, blow your noses, and open up your hearts as we commemorate Maria Gonzalez’s life this evening. I know she touched all of us in this room, but I should let it be known: Maria likely touched me more than she ever touched most of you. She touched me a lot, and I touched her, too. Maria touched me in ways you could never even imagine, and every few months I can’t help but drop trow and start remembering all the beautiful ways she touched me. I’m not too proud of a man to admit that I’ve been lonely since I lost my Goldilocks, and in moments of weakness I can’t help but reminisce about my previous sexual conquests.

The bond between Maria and I was strong- so strong, in fact, that I suspect many of you yodels and yahoos down here can’t even begin to relate to it. The type of relationships that I was willing to give Maria is rare, incredibly rare. Her and I had the kind of bond that is almost impossible for humans to break. While Maria was nowhere close to my precious Goldilocks in terms of beauty, importance, prestige, talent, or vaginal tightness she was still a valuable fuckbuddy in her own right.

The crowd murmurs loudly in discontent as Charlie Nickles licks his finger before using it to flip the first page of his speech over. You can almost swear that Jesus Christ on the cross is looking down at tonight's events with a sorrowful sob.

I don’t think Maria Gonzalez ever truly understood what a friends with benefits situation was, but I’ll tell you this: she understood professional wrestling better than anyone else I’ve ever met. Maria Gonzalez, for all her faults and flaws, was a true woman of the business. She was nothing like most of these other broads that run around the industry today, that’s for damn sure. Maria genuinely respected this sport and she had genuine belief in her abilities inside that ring.

That’s why Maria never had to use sex to sell tickets or move merchadise. That’s how we know that Maria Gonzalez was a legitimate luchadorA, and not just another shooting star ring rat. We need to remember Maria Gonzalez’s life when she was at her best, when she was riding my cock and training hard for all her championship matches.

See……

Boos reverberate from the crowd as Maria’s close friends and family begin to grow restless. We cut to a brief shot of Dolly Waters staring daggers up at the stage. Latina Submission Machina is nowhere to be seen as Charlie chuckles softly to himself during her mother’s eulogy.

There are three types of women that make it big in the world of pro wrestling. There are great women, there are good women, and then there are dirty ring rats who do nothing but leech off of whatever weak man they can dig their claws into.

Goldilocks is a great woman. She is the greatest woman in the world of professional wrestling, in fact. Her lustrous beauty has a shine that is unmatched. She is a glowing, living, breathing monument to the excellence and tradition of the X-treme Wrestling Federation. She’s the kind of woman every man, and even most women, dream about.

Maria Gonazalez wasn’t a great woman like Goldilocks, but don’t you dare hold that against her! We can’t all become divinity incarnate, that’s just not how destiny works. That’s why we have to appreciate good women like Maria on their own merits.

Various voices in the crowd rise in objection to the eulogy.

¡Idiota!

¡Cállate!

¡Bájate del escenario!

Charlie brushed off the hecklers with ease. Being the single most controversial wrestler in today’s XWF seems to have thickened Charlie’s skin.

Maria Gonzalez actually had the chops to make it in the world of professional wrestling on her own merits. Her credentials are unquestionable, her legacy has more than been solidified. Her career has proven this fundamental axiom true: women can be just as capable and successful inside of the squared circle as men.

While good women like Maria may appear small and insignificant when compared to golden greatness, that should by no means be the standard! For us to really appreciate all that Maria offered this world, I say we turn our heads…...up. Towards space.

Please, do as I do.

Charlie looks up towards the ceiling of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Cathedral. He is the only person in the church who does so. Most everyone else is either crossing their arms, looking away, or standing up to leave.

If we really want to appreciate Maria’s earthly presence we need only look at the travesties that come to us from space. The bad women come from outer space….

I never knew my ex-wife Connie was a space alien time traveler, but the clues are all starting to fit together. I mean, I know none of you know the bitch, but she’s an awful lot like that Betsy Granger.

Narcissistic and deluded.

These disgusting traits are all too common among professional wrestling’s shooting stars. This little quartet of words could describe nearly 2/3rds of what used to be the XWF’s most pathetic and overrated division. Jenny Myst? A pathological narcissist, Doc’ can attest to that. And Deluded? Well, that’s about the best damn word there is to describe Dukey’s little pay per view efforts.

Maria Gonazalez was neither narcissistic nor deluded. She eschewed these traits and proved to be the real latina deal. That’s why Maria’s a good woman.

Betsy Granger, however? She checks all those boxes over and over and over again. It’s like common sense and mild manners are absolutely alien to that time traveling xenomorph. Let’s just run down the list. Hearing about Betsy’s personal failings will help shine a light on the phenomenal successes of Maria Gonazalez, a Charlie-certified good woman.

¡Deja de hacer esto sobre ti! ¡Esto es por María, bastardo!

Charlie Nickles looked up from his pre-written speech to give a toothy grin and a clueless thumbs up to the middle-aged man who interjected. The Nickleman flipped to the next page of the eulogy as he continued his offensive tirade.

Deluded? Check.

Let’s just say that Derek Jeter, Kobe Bryant, and Dirk Nowitzki never had to brag about how many different leagues they played in. You don’t hear too many guys in the NFL bragging about picking up a second job in arena football to pay the bills in the offseason!

I did what Betsy Granger is doing now for TWENTY YEARS, and it was absolute DOGSHIT. Having to travel from company to company, with no stability and no guarantees on whether you’ll have a job there next week? That’s not something to brag about! I was absolutely ecstatic to sign a full-time contract with the XWF that keeps me here full time.

I only wonder why they wouldn’t offer Betsy a similar contract. I don’t like Betsy anymore than the XWF’s lawyers after her latest FCC violation, but even I don’t think she should have to bust her ass in all these minor league federations!

But hell, let’s put all that minor league fuckery to the side for a moment. Betsy’s delusions run far deeper than just misplaced braggadocio. I mean, by God, she’s given herself a ridiculous case of self-induced amnesia! She had the gall to ask ME, of ALL people, what I’ve accomplished in the last twelve months!

ME! OF ALL PEOPLE!

While wearing the TV championship belt around her waist, she asked me what I’ve done this year! I have managed to accomplish more in the last year than Betsy Granger ever will in her entire career: point blank, period. I held Goldilocks for longer than Betsy Granger will ever hold any championship belt, EVER, no matter where she competes! She couldn’t hold the my little pony league participation trophy for as long as I held onto the most defended belt in XWF history. Betsy couldn’t even sniff the halfway point of my reign with the Shooting Star Championship!

But let’s put legendary championship runs aside. I drafted a better war games team than Betsy DESPITE having a worse picking number! Then my team competed in the finals while Betsy’s salty ass sucked on a bird-sized pecker on the sidelines! You know, kind of like what happened at March Madness. Betsy can claim she ‘won the night’ all she wants, those kinds of moral victories have never interested me. Moral victories were never of any interest to Maria, either, because she had the skills to earn REAL victories…....but let’s move on.

The crowd’s boos grow louder and louder but Charlie Nickles remains unperturbed as he carries on his thoughtful eulogization of LSM’s madre.

¡Eres el estúpido!

More people get up and walk out of the cathedral as one middle-aged man in particular seems to be getting increasingly agitated.

Narcissist? Check.

This one is self-evident! FUCK!

Charlie Nickles looks back at Jesus Christ on the cross behind him. Charlie smiles at Jesus and tips his imaginary cap to him.

I mean, HOLY fuck!

As Charlie turns back to speak to the enraged crowd you could swear Jesus seemed to be staring judgmentally into The Nickleman’s soul...

That woman did exactly what I predicted she would do last week: she made this entire match about herself!

¡Deja de hablar de tu pareja, idiota! ¡Esto es un funeral!

She thinks I’m entering The Barclays Center with the sole intent to maim and kill Betsy Granger? By God, I have that ego-tripping fraudster shaking in her boots already. No wonder she is having such scary dreams, she literally thinks she is going to die tomorrow night…..when in reality, the only thing I care about is leaving The Barclays Center with my Goldilocks. Whatever else happens, happens. If it just takes one Devil Hook Drop to the head to maim or kill Betsy well, that’s not really my problem, is it?

Well….I suppose the time has come to say our final goodbyes.

Charlie Nickles looks out at the crowd now, which has thinned to just two people- an angry middle aged man and Dolly Waters. Charlie shrugs before turning back to face the open coffin set up behind him. He steps up to Maria’s stiff corpse and brushes his hand tenderly against her cheek. He kneels down in front of her corpse and whispers into her ear.

¡ALÉJESE DE ELLA, FALSO ENFERMO!

BANG BANG BANG

BANG BANG BANG

Six shots from a revolver ring out in the sanctum as the middle aged man stands up and starts shooting the stage from his pew. Dolly Waters screams as she tries to grab her crutches. Charlie Nickles instinctively ducks. He feels a bullet graze his shoulders as he dives beneath the coffin. He hears another three bullets rip through the walls behind him.

The shooting stops.

The sound of the gunfire is immediately familiar to Charlie. He recognizes it as the exact same type of gunfire he heard the night someone made an attempt on his life.

¡Voy a sacar a este hijo de puta para siempre esta vez!

Charlie hears the sound of someone reloading a revolver. From beneath the lifted coffin he looks at the back wall and up at the cross. Charlie sees a streak of red ichor running down Jesus’s crown of thorns from a small hole in his head. Charlie slides out from beneath the coffin hurriedly. As he picks himself up to his feet he sees that the final bullet went through the coffin. Charlie is downright mortified to see that the stray bullet went through Maria’s head inside of the coffin, as well. Brain matter and blood are splattered across the pillowy inside of the coffin causing Charlie to scream bloody murder.

Charlie!

Charlie looks over at Dolly Waters who is struggling to stand with her crutches. He then looks over at the shooter who is reloading his firearm. The man accidentally lets the bullet casings slip through his fingers. The shooter glares up at Charlie before scurrying down to the ground to reload his munitions. Charlie takes a mental picture of the man before sprinting over to Dolly Waters.

Charlie picks Dolly up by the waist and flings her over his shoulders as he hears a pistol being cocked back. Charlie and Dolly burst through the doors of the cathedral as he hears another stream of gunfire go off. Charlie runs off in the distance with Dolly Waters over his shoulder as the shooter steps up to the doors of the cathedral wistfully. He glares out into the horizon and promises ultimate revenge as he hears sirens closing in.

Fade to black.

APPROXIMATELY THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER…...


Charlie and Dolly are standing next to each other in some nondescript room in the back of a church. Dolly is on crutches and wearing black pants and a black, buttoned-up overcoat. Charlie is wearing a nice suit and looking down at a stack of papers, reading the words on the pages silently to himself.

I hope you weren’t planning to say anything, I’m not sure Robyn wants that….

I have to speak. I have an epic speech ready.

You should at least let me look at it beforehand.

A worried expression flashed across Dolly’s face as Charlie looked at her. He shrugged and agreed.

Sure. I have another copy here so you can read it while I keep practicing.

Charlie reached into his suit coat and pulled out a slightly smaller stack of papers. Dolly didn’t seem to notice the difference.

You came this prepared?

Maria meant a lot to me. I wanted to make sure I got this right, and ever since I left my notes in a Denny’s bathroom at my Uncle Leo’s funeral I’ve always made sure to bring an extra copy.

Dolly looks over the speech as Charlie continues to practice.

You know, this is actually pretty good Charlie!

She hands the decoy speech back to Charlie.

Thanks, Dolly. I worked really hard on this whole setup

I can see that!

Dolly flashes a smile at Charlie as he tucks both speeches into his suitcoat.

“Ugh, what are you doing here?”

LSM walks into the room and leans on the doorframe, crossing her arms as she stares at Charlie.

Look, LSM, I know we got off to a rocky start….but I have something you’re going to want to see.

Keep your cock in your pants you fucking weirdo!

LSM glared at Charlie. Dolly looked at LSM with surprise: she’d never heard her speak like such a sailor before, nor with such contempt.

I have something from your mom. A handwritten letter.

A-what?

Charlie reached into his suit coat and walked up to LSM. He pulled out a wrinkled letter with beautiful Spanish cursive on it. He handed it to LSM, who looked down at it briefly before looking back up at Charlie.

What’s it say?

I don’t know, it’s in spanish. Your mother gave it to me right before I left Mexico and that wrestling camp for good.

Charlie looks around his immediate surroundings

Well, or so I thought. But it’s in Spanish, I’ve never been able to read it. I have no idea what it says, but I thought you might like to have something from your mom’s younger days.

Charlie, I don’t know what to say. This is so nice. This- this…..

LSM looked down at the letter Maria wrote to Charlie and began reading it. Dolly looked on with a warm heart and a big smile.

About ten seconds of healing and tenderness go by before LSM immediately turns red hot and starts screaming at Charlie.

¡MADRE PADRE! ¡NO NO! ¡ESO NO! ¡ESO NO! ¡ESTO TIENE QUE SER FALSO! ¡¿POR QUÉ FALSARÍAS ESTO ?! ¡DEBO MATARTE!

What’s she saying, Dolly?!

I don’t know Charlie, I don't speak Spanish that well- but I think she’s saying it has to be fake!

No LSM, it’s not fake! Your mother really wrote that for me about twenty or so years ago!

¡¿QUÉ ESTAS DICIENDO?! ¡NO ERES MI PADRE! ¡NO! ¡MI MAMÁ NUNCA LO HARÍA!

LSM looked at the letter with tears in her eyes then up to Charlie in disgust. She held onto the letter as she ran out of the room in tears.

What did you do?!

I just gave her that letter!

What did it say?!

I don’t know, I don’t speak spanish!

Didn’t you ever think to google translate it?!?!

Charlie looked back at Dolly with embarrassment as the scene faded to black.]]> <![CDATA[You‘ll Pay in Blood]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42321 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 23:59:09 -0800 HeavensToBetsy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42321 “Fucking hell, Vinnie…” Betsy Granger mutters, throwing a hand up in the air. A loud buzzing above her marks one of the XWF Drones flying overhead, intrusive as ever; a moment later, it drops after being zapped with a thin beam of pure plasma energy.


“A rather bold invasion of privacy, isn’t it?” Joel Granger asks of his daughter, stepping up beside her to take a better look at the deceptively shoddy-looking device.


”Of the worst sort, but it’s part of the fine print. Apparently, this thing can see into your mind and everything.” She rolls her green eyes dramatically, giving the obnoxious machine a rough kick.


“How the fuck is that supposed to work?” Joel asks incredulously, now eying the drone heavily.


” Let’s just go with bippity boppity bullshit and leave it at that.” Betsy replies waspishly, squatting down and dismantling the drone. After a few moments, she holds up a micro-chip with a smirk. ”This’ll be coming out of my X-Bux for sure.”


When Joel doesn’t reply, Betsy takes a closer look at her father’s face. His jovial smile was gone, his green eyes filled with concern as he studies her. “Do you want to talk about it?”


Her shoulders droop slightly as exhaustion hits her like a brick. Rising from her squatted position, she allows her weariness to show. ”Do you believe in life after this?”


Joel is unable to hide his surprise at her strange question. “Sure Bets, I’d like to believe the ones we’ve lost are up there mingling, waiting for the rest of us to come along. Why?”


”Do you believe there could be a hell… Or something very much like it… For those of us who die in anger or torment?” she continues tentatively, feeling the darkness shift around inside of her.


“I’ve always held the belief that the only demons and monsters out there are the ones we create. Maybe there is another place for them, but honey,” Joel pauses for a moment, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about such a fate.”


”I’m already living through worse, Papa… There’s so much you don’t know.” Betsy’s eyes shine as they fill with stinging tears, but she blinks them back furiously. ”I want to tell you everything, but I can feel it clawing at my throat... “


With a cry, Betsy breaks free of her father’s grip and turns away, grabbing at her head. Joel reaches out for her and manages to catch her by the elbow; a moment later, he’s flung across the yard as Betsy tosses him away with a growling shriek. Landing hard on his tailbone, Joel watches in terror as Betsy stalks across the yard, breathing heavily and eyes glowing bright red.


“Betsy?” James Raven had run out after hearing Betsy’s scream; now he was helping Joel to his feet, both men never taking their eyes off her.


”Not for much longer, now.” she answers in a tone full of malicious glee. A deep echo accompanies her own voice as a sinister smile spreads across her lips. ”Soon, Betsy Granger, and everyone she loves, will be mine or they will be exterminated."

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you have ten seconds to get the hell out of my daughter!" Joel demands.


With a laugh, the creature obliges. Betsy falls to her knees, panting hard as tears stained her cheeks. Joel and James flank her and help her to unsteady feet; she leans heavily against them, weakened by the encounter.


“Does anyone want to tell me what’s going on?” Joel asks, looking between the couple.

Before either can answer, a loud buzzing is heard from overhead; rolling her eyes heavenward, Betsy groans loudly as a drone marked with the XWF logo whizzes into view. Without a word, she pushes herself away from the men and stomps inside the house. Joel looks to James, his green eyes wide with confusion. James rests a hand on the man’s shoulder and nods.


“Let’s take a walk, there is a lot to fill you in on…” James says, guiding him towards the barn.


From the window, Betsy watches with glowing eyes as the two men walk away from the home. Behind her, Adelaide and Elena were preparing Thanksgiving dinner; but not even the delicious smells in the home could remove the dark mood in her heart. Her eyes become emerald slits as she watches James, lips pursing as she correctly guessed what the men were discussing.


“Don’t just stand around like a useless little lump; come set the table for dinner!” her mother says cheerfully, breaking Betsy of her thoughts.

With one last glare out of the window, Betsy turns and joins her mother and sister with a forced smile, carrying on the charade...



****


”So this is what it’s come to, has it, Charlie?

I once thought that maybe under the hard edges and girth, there was one last shred of humanity left to your person. That through all the many names you’ve touted and radical personalities that came with them, there was someone in there with a sense of decency. I allowed Dolly Waters to convince me that maybe you weren’t so bad, that maybe there was more to you than a disgusting troll.

Dolly was an idiot to think that, and I was an even bigger fool to listen to her.”

Standing before a camera in a field before a barren, twisted tree, The Impossible Traveler glares into the lens. No hint of her friendly demeanor remains. She wears a long, black trench coat, her hands stuffed in the pockets against the chilly air. The afternoon is dark and dreary, clearly matching the blackness of her mood. Her words leave her tongue like acid, each syllable dripping with contempt.

”You fucking shit pile excuse of a human, who the fuck do you think you are? The world already knew you weren’t a man, why did you have to prove it further in the locker room recently? Are you so fucking mentally stymied that you thought it was funny, or remotely okay, to make such comments? Let's answer these together; I’ll be sure to do it slowly so you can take plenty of notes with your crayons and construction paper. You can’t expect someone whose mother is also his aunt to have a working brain cell, after all. The only thing emptier than your vapid mind is the ghost loads you shoot into your sister every night.

To the first question, I say that you, Charlie Nickels, are the nastiest, foulest, most grotesque form of scum that plagues this planet. Everywhere you slither, you leave a trail of toxic slime behind you, leaving a wake of destruction you laugh off casually. I might have been put here to cause a little trouble myself, but until today, I’d never seen anything as sorry as you are. How abysmal is your existence that you would take pleasure in terrorizing the fairer gender in such a fashion? You aren’t humorous, you’re a downright bully that deserves every inch of this lynching I have lined up for you. If I thought you had any between your legs to brag of, I’d hang you on a thick branch with a thin wire by your balls and leave you for the buzzards to peck at.

Although, I think even they would rather starve than feast on your unpalatable flesh.

As if on cue, a swarm of different bird's circle above her head; a breeze picks up, blowing her golden locks around her face dramatically.

”Moving on to question two, the measures to which you’re willing to sink just to get a rise out of people are pathetic and inexcusable. As much as I’d love to see some form of punishment from upper management for your recent actions, I’d much rather take justice into my own hands this time around. Nothing they do will amount to more than a slap on the wrist and a few minutes in time out. I’ll hurt you so thoroughly, you’ll rue what you've done for as long as I allow you to live. And given my current mood, that may not be for much longer. I don’t give a fuck how this is taken; if I rid the world of your poison, I’ll smile as they read me my rights.”

A single raven flies down from the flock and settles onto her shoulder. Betsy caresses its little head, her face growing darker.

”As to the final question put forth for consideration, I’ve allowed a few theories to enter my mind. Perhaps you were dropped on the head too much as a child. Maybe you’ve taken one too many funny pills and threw your chemical balance off. Inbreeding is my prevailing theory, as I already gave away before. It’s the only explanation for your underdeveloped brain and complete lack of sense. The fact that you would take a sensitive subject like rape and not only attempt to use it to exploit me, but to terrorize other female members of the XWF roster in our own locker room? Uh, hello, sexual harassment much? But again, this is the type of shit that gets overlooked all the time because wrestling has always very loudly been a man's sport.

That’s why mindless cretins like Charlie Nickels think he can get away with making comments that would drive off one of the best female wrestlers of our era. That’s why women like Lycana and I have to step up and shut down those who would try to stifle our voices and threaten us back into being little more than obedient housewives. I’ve sat back and watched long enough as men all around me pretended to have feminist ideals while making sure that it was still all about the boys. I’ve had to fight and scrape my way to get where I am, despite those who would either shame me for my aspiration or sexualize me in an attempt to get inside my head. My favorites are the ones who threaten violence like I’m afraid to feel a little pain. I’m glad I’m surrounded by men who aren’t afraid to hit a woman; it’ll make it that much easier to take their pride when they all inevitably fall to me.

It starts at Bad Medicine with you, Charlie.”

Her gloved hands ball into fists as a familiar glow begins to emit from every pore in her body.

”You want to speak of my delusions Charlie, but have failed to accept your own demented fantasies. Look at how you babble mindlessly of my love life and attempt, again, to use it as a way to hurt me. I feel like I’ve heard this before... Oh right, it’s the same recycled shit you use on every female you come up against. In your dimwitted mind, you seem to think that all of us are the same, with perhaps the exception of Dolly Waters and again... Well...

Moving on.

It’s cute, how you used the Raven as an attempt to feed into insecurities I let go of long ago. I’ll make sure James gets a look at it; he’s been complaining that all his comedy specials have gotten stale. The jokes you allow to roll off your tongue should keep him going for at least a day.”

The raven caws gently and nuzzles at her chin. An icy smile crosses her face.

I know it’s hard to make friends and lovers when your face looks like a dick suffering from necrosis and you smell like the underside of unwashed fat rolls, but far be it from me to rub your nose in it. It just stands to reason that you wouldn’t know how to interpret a healthy relationship if it bit you in the taint. It won’t matter for much longer, because at Bad Medicine, the only kiss you need to worry about is my fist sending your teeth down your gullet. Since I know now that you have absolutely nothing going on in your pants, I suppose I’ll have to do with ripping your man titties off and shoving them down your throat. Before they have a chance to reach either intestine, I’ll fish up your asshole with a rusty skewer and pull them out so you can have seconds.

Betsy Granger is much more than all grown-up, you Bono-sized piece of shit. I have evolved to an entirely new level; I have ascended to a place that an inconsequential piece of filth like yourself could ever hope to reach. Not only will you never wrap your grubby fingers around the Television Title again, but I will also personally make sure you never, ever, have the opportunity to bully any of the women around here, or anywhere, ever again. I’ll tear you from limb to limb and scatter the remains about my house like trophies.

You have no idea what you’re messing with this time around, Charlie. You’re under the impression that I’m just some good girl gone bad, another bitch that finally went psycho. Of course, your narrow views would blind you to what’s really happening before your eyes. The weak don’t recognize their superiors when they stand before them; and you, my dearest fool, are so busy barking away that you miss what happens around you. I haven’t fallen to my demons, Charlie; I’ve merely become one with them. You wouldn’t know what it truly means to embrace the dark because you’ve never looked it in the eye the way I have. What would you know of what happens in my mind? Even Doc D’Ville would warn you to stay out of the mind of a spurned woman; he’s been privy to what happens in there.

But even he isn’t ready for what resides there now.”

Cupping a hand between her mouth and the raven’s face, she whispers something indistinct to the cameras. A moment later, the raven flies off, followed by the rest of the birds. Betsy watches them go until they disappear before her smile fades once more.

”You have fifteen minutes to bring everything you have in your limited arsenal. You’ve already proven as predictable as you are despicable, and here I thought we had something special. I thought you would come at me with something fun, something creative; after all, there is a prize on the line and you’ve been wanting this shot at me personally for quite some time. Well now’s your chance to take your best shot, you fat fucking cunt. Come at me with all the he-man woman hate you have and take blind stabs at my personal life. I love how fucking moronic you make yourself look; I honestly don’t think I even needed to make as much effort as I have.

Everyone knows there’s only one way this is destined to end.


When the referee comes to lift my hand, I’ll force him to lift your disembodied head instead.”

Betsy’s feet lift slowly from the ground as she unclenches her fists and begins to float.

”There will be no timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly tricks or effects to save you from what’s to come, Charlie Nickels. CGI won’t fix the massacre that I intend to make of you once that bell rings and our time begins. You will feel every ounce of penance I will inflict upon you for your sins against me and anyone you’ve unjustly sent fleeing into the abyss. I will remove that slanderous tongue that spreads such empty rumors from your head; and perhaps while I’m at it, your fingers as well so writing out your deranged propaganda is no longer a viable option. Because that would be the worst punishment for a feeble fuck like you, wouldn’t it? Not being heard, ignored by the masses, screaming as loud as you possibly can to no avail. What a blow to your uncivilized mind and shriveling ego, being unable to spew your hate vomit while waving your Rebel Flag, pounding luke-warm PBR’s, and attending Friday’s Klan meeting. Being silenced by not only a fiercer, stronger warrior than you, but a woman to boot.

Put that in your mouth and choke on it, bitch.

They say there is no wrath like a woman scorned; I’m quite looking forward to finding that out first hand. Pity I have such a short amount of time to make you suffer. It’s not nearly long enough for the bullshit you’ve plagued the XWF with since your arrival.

It’s funny… Andy Warhol once said that everyone gets fifteen minutes of fame. Mine has only just begun, yours never even had the timer set. Now I’m taking that fifteen minutes as a personal challenge, lets see how famous I can make Charlie Nickels before I dispose of him permanently. You should be honored, Charlie; it’s going to be a crimson ball and you’re the guest of honor. I’m going to make sure what I do in that ring will linger; long after you’re forced into the darkness that awaits your future, my face will burrow into your mind as a reminder of the night all of your worst fears were realized.

Darling, I am the monster under your bed and the cause of all your nocturnal emissions. Every man has a weakness and you were kind enough to expose yours; don’t worry Toots, I won’t spill it for the world to hear; I’d much rather see the horror and shock in your eyes as I reveal what you truly are. It would be easy to call you a monster, but that would imply that you have some level of fear and intimidation to work with, and quite frankly, I’m just ready to wash my hands of you once and for all.

Come Bad Medicine, your nightmares become my feast, your blood my wine, and your soul my prize.”

With a hiss, Betsy sends a bolt of energy to the camera, effectively shutting it down. ]]> “Fucking hell, Vinnie…” Betsy Granger mutters, throwing a hand up in the air. A loud buzzing above her marks one of the XWF Drones flying overhead, intrusive as ever; a moment later, it drops after being zapped with a thin beam of pure plasma energy.


“A rather bold invasion of privacy, isn’t it?” Joel Granger asks of his daughter, stepping up beside her to take a better look at the deceptively shoddy-looking device.


”Of the worst sort, but it’s part of the fine print. Apparently, this thing can see into your mind and everything.” She rolls her green eyes dramatically, giving the obnoxious machine a rough kick.


“How the fuck is that supposed to work?” Joel asks incredulously, now eying the drone heavily.


” Let’s just go with bippity boppity bullshit and leave it at that.” Betsy replies waspishly, squatting down and dismantling the drone. After a few moments, she holds up a micro-chip with a smirk. ”This’ll be coming out of my X-Bux for sure.”


When Joel doesn’t reply, Betsy takes a closer look at her father’s face. His jovial smile was gone, his green eyes filled with concern as he studies her. “Do you want to talk about it?”


Her shoulders droop slightly as exhaustion hits her like a brick. Rising from her squatted position, she allows her weariness to show. ”Do you believe in life after this?”


Joel is unable to hide his surprise at her strange question. “Sure Bets, I’d like to believe the ones we’ve lost are up there mingling, waiting for the rest of us to come along. Why?”


”Do you believe there could be a hell… Or something very much like it… For those of us who die in anger or torment?” she continues tentatively, feeling the darkness shift around inside of her.


“I’ve always held the belief that the only demons and monsters out there are the ones we create. Maybe there is another place for them, but honey,” Joel pauses for a moment, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about such a fate.”


”I’m already living through worse, Papa… There’s so much you don’t know.” Betsy’s eyes shine as they fill with stinging tears, but she blinks them back furiously. ”I want to tell you everything, but I can feel it clawing at my throat... “


With a cry, Betsy breaks free of her father’s grip and turns away, grabbing at her head. Joel reaches out for her and manages to catch her by the elbow; a moment later, he’s flung across the yard as Betsy tosses him away with a growling shriek. Landing hard on his tailbone, Joel watches in terror as Betsy stalks across the yard, breathing heavily and eyes glowing bright red.


“Betsy?” James Raven had run out after hearing Betsy’s scream; now he was helping Joel to his feet, both men never taking their eyes off her.


”Not for much longer, now.” she answers in a tone full of malicious glee. A deep echo accompanies her own voice as a sinister smile spreads across her lips. ”Soon, Betsy Granger, and everyone she loves, will be mine or they will be exterminated."

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you have ten seconds to get the hell out of my daughter!" Joel demands.


With a laugh, the creature obliges. Betsy falls to her knees, panting hard as tears stained her cheeks. Joel and James flank her and help her to unsteady feet; she leans heavily against them, weakened by the encounter.


“Does anyone want to tell me what’s going on?” Joel asks, looking between the couple.

Before either can answer, a loud buzzing is heard from overhead; rolling her eyes heavenward, Betsy groans loudly as a drone marked with the XWF logo whizzes into view. Without a word, she pushes herself away from the men and stomps inside the house. Joel looks to James, his green eyes wide with confusion. James rests a hand on the man’s shoulder and nods.


“Let’s take a walk, there is a lot to fill you in on…” James says, guiding him towards the barn.


From the window, Betsy watches with glowing eyes as the two men walk away from the home. Behind her, Adelaide and Elena were preparing Thanksgiving dinner; but not even the delicious smells in the home could remove the dark mood in her heart. Her eyes become emerald slits as she watches James, lips pursing as she correctly guessed what the men were discussing.


“Don’t just stand around like a useless little lump; come set the table for dinner!” her mother says cheerfully, breaking Betsy of her thoughts.

With one last glare out of the window, Betsy turns and joins her mother and sister with a forced smile, carrying on the charade...



****


”So this is what it’s come to, has it, Charlie?

I once thought that maybe under the hard edges and girth, there was one last shred of humanity left to your person. That through all the many names you’ve touted and radical personalities that came with them, there was someone in there with a sense of decency. I allowed Dolly Waters to convince me that maybe you weren’t so bad, that maybe there was more to you than a disgusting troll.

Dolly was an idiot to think that, and I was an even bigger fool to listen to her.”

Standing before a camera in a field before a barren, twisted tree, The Impossible Traveler glares into the lens. No hint of her friendly demeanor remains. She wears a long, black trench coat, her hands stuffed in the pockets against the chilly air. The afternoon is dark and dreary, clearly matching the blackness of her mood. Her words leave her tongue like acid, each syllable dripping with contempt.

”You fucking shit pile excuse of a human, who the fuck do you think you are? The world already knew you weren’t a man, why did you have to prove it further in the locker room recently? Are you so fucking mentally stymied that you thought it was funny, or remotely okay, to make such comments? Let's answer these together; I’ll be sure to do it slowly so you can take plenty of notes with your crayons and construction paper. You can’t expect someone whose mother is also his aunt to have a working brain cell, after all. The only thing emptier than your vapid mind is the ghost loads you shoot into your sister every night.

To the first question, I say that you, Charlie Nickels, are the nastiest, foulest, most grotesque form of scum that plagues this planet. Everywhere you slither, you leave a trail of toxic slime behind you, leaving a wake of destruction you laugh off casually. I might have been put here to cause a little trouble myself, but until today, I’d never seen anything as sorry as you are. How abysmal is your existence that you would take pleasure in terrorizing the fairer gender in such a fashion? You aren’t humorous, you’re a downright bully that deserves every inch of this lynching I have lined up for you. If I thought you had any between your legs to brag of, I’d hang you on a thick branch with a thin wire by your balls and leave you for the buzzards to peck at.

Although, I think even they would rather starve than feast on your unpalatable flesh.

As if on cue, a swarm of different bird's circle above her head; a breeze picks up, blowing her golden locks around her face dramatically.

”Moving on to question two, the measures to which you’re willing to sink just to get a rise out of people are pathetic and inexcusable. As much as I’d love to see some form of punishment from upper management for your recent actions, I’d much rather take justice into my own hands this time around. Nothing they do will amount to more than a slap on the wrist and a few minutes in time out. I’ll hurt you so thoroughly, you’ll rue what you've done for as long as I allow you to live. And given my current mood, that may not be for much longer. I don’t give a fuck how this is taken; if I rid the world of your poison, I’ll smile as they read me my rights.”

A single raven flies down from the flock and settles onto her shoulder. Betsy caresses its little head, her face growing darker.

”As to the final question put forth for consideration, I’ve allowed a few theories to enter my mind. Perhaps you were dropped on the head too much as a child. Maybe you’ve taken one too many funny pills and threw your chemical balance off. Inbreeding is my prevailing theory, as I already gave away before. It’s the only explanation for your underdeveloped brain and complete lack of sense. The fact that you would take a sensitive subject like rape and not only attempt to use it to exploit me, but to terrorize other female members of the XWF roster in our own locker room? Uh, hello, sexual harassment much? But again, this is the type of shit that gets overlooked all the time because wrestling has always very loudly been a man's sport.

That’s why mindless cretins like Charlie Nickels think he can get away with making comments that would drive off one of the best female wrestlers of our era. That’s why women like Lycana and I have to step up and shut down those who would try to stifle our voices and threaten us back into being little more than obedient housewives. I’ve sat back and watched long enough as men all around me pretended to have feminist ideals while making sure that it was still all about the boys. I’ve had to fight and scrape my way to get where I am, despite those who would either shame me for my aspiration or sexualize me in an attempt to get inside my head. My favorites are the ones who threaten violence like I’m afraid to feel a little pain. I’m glad I’m surrounded by men who aren’t afraid to hit a woman; it’ll make it that much easier to take their pride when they all inevitably fall to me.

It starts at Bad Medicine with you, Charlie.”

Her gloved hands ball into fists as a familiar glow begins to emit from every pore in her body.

”You want to speak of my delusions Charlie, but have failed to accept your own demented fantasies. Look at how you babble mindlessly of my love life and attempt, again, to use it as a way to hurt me. I feel like I’ve heard this before... Oh right, it’s the same recycled shit you use on every female you come up against. In your dimwitted mind, you seem to think that all of us are the same, with perhaps the exception of Dolly Waters and again... Well...

Moving on.

It’s cute, how you used the Raven as an attempt to feed into insecurities I let go of long ago. I’ll make sure James gets a look at it; he’s been complaining that all his comedy specials have gotten stale. The jokes you allow to roll off your tongue should keep him going for at least a day.”

The raven caws gently and nuzzles at her chin. An icy smile crosses her face.

I know it’s hard to make friends and lovers when your face looks like a dick suffering from necrosis and you smell like the underside of unwashed fat rolls, but far be it from me to rub your nose in it. It just stands to reason that you wouldn’t know how to interpret a healthy relationship if it bit you in the taint. It won’t matter for much longer, because at Bad Medicine, the only kiss you need to worry about is my fist sending your teeth down your gullet. Since I know now that you have absolutely nothing going on in your pants, I suppose I’ll have to do with ripping your man titties off and shoving them down your throat. Before they have a chance to reach either intestine, I’ll fish up your asshole with a rusty skewer and pull them out so you can have seconds.

Betsy Granger is much more than all grown-up, you Bono-sized piece of shit. I have evolved to an entirely new level; I have ascended to a place that an inconsequential piece of filth like yourself could ever hope to reach. Not only will you never wrap your grubby fingers around the Television Title again, but I will also personally make sure you never, ever, have the opportunity to bully any of the women around here, or anywhere, ever again. I’ll tear you from limb to limb and scatter the remains about my house like trophies.

You have no idea what you’re messing with this time around, Charlie. You’re under the impression that I’m just some good girl gone bad, another bitch that finally went psycho. Of course, your narrow views would blind you to what’s really happening before your eyes. The weak don’t recognize their superiors when they stand before them; and you, my dearest fool, are so busy barking away that you miss what happens around you. I haven’t fallen to my demons, Charlie; I’ve merely become one with them. You wouldn’t know what it truly means to embrace the dark because you’ve never looked it in the eye the way I have. What would you know of what happens in my mind? Even Doc D’Ville would warn you to stay out of the mind of a spurned woman; he’s been privy to what happens in there.

But even he isn’t ready for what resides there now.”

Cupping a hand between her mouth and the raven’s face, she whispers something indistinct to the cameras. A moment later, the raven flies off, followed by the rest of the birds. Betsy watches them go until they disappear before her smile fades once more.

”You have fifteen minutes to bring everything you have in your limited arsenal. You’ve already proven as predictable as you are despicable, and here I thought we had something special. I thought you would come at me with something fun, something creative; after all, there is a prize on the line and you’ve been wanting this shot at me personally for quite some time. Well now’s your chance to take your best shot, you fat fucking cunt. Come at me with all the he-man woman hate you have and take blind stabs at my personal life. I love how fucking moronic you make yourself look; I honestly don’t think I even needed to make as much effort as I have.

Everyone knows there’s only one way this is destined to end.


When the referee comes to lift my hand, I’ll force him to lift your disembodied head instead.”

Betsy’s feet lift slowly from the ground as she unclenches her fists and begins to float.

”There will be no timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly tricks or effects to save you from what’s to come, Charlie Nickels. CGI won’t fix the massacre that I intend to make of you once that bell rings and our time begins. You will feel every ounce of penance I will inflict upon you for your sins against me and anyone you’ve unjustly sent fleeing into the abyss. I will remove that slanderous tongue that spreads such empty rumors from your head; and perhaps while I’m at it, your fingers as well so writing out your deranged propaganda is no longer a viable option. Because that would be the worst punishment for a feeble fuck like you, wouldn’t it? Not being heard, ignored by the masses, screaming as loud as you possibly can to no avail. What a blow to your uncivilized mind and shriveling ego, being unable to spew your hate vomit while waving your Rebel Flag, pounding luke-warm PBR’s, and attending Friday’s Klan meeting. Being silenced by not only a fiercer, stronger warrior than you, but a woman to boot.

Put that in your mouth and choke on it, bitch.

They say there is no wrath like a woman scorned; I’m quite looking forward to finding that out first hand. Pity I have such a short amount of time to make you suffer. It’s not nearly long enough for the bullshit you’ve plagued the XWF with since your arrival.

It’s funny… Andy Warhol once said that everyone gets fifteen minutes of fame. Mine has only just begun, yours never even had the timer set. Now I’m taking that fifteen minutes as a personal challenge, lets see how famous I can make Charlie Nickels before I dispose of him permanently. You should be honored, Charlie; it’s going to be a crimson ball and you’re the guest of honor. I’m going to make sure what I do in that ring will linger; long after you’re forced into the darkness that awaits your future, my face will burrow into your mind as a reminder of the night all of your worst fears were realized.

Darling, I am the monster under your bed and the cause of all your nocturnal emissions. Every man has a weakness and you were kind enough to expose yours; don’t worry Toots, I won’t spill it for the world to hear; I’d much rather see the horror and shock in your eyes as I reveal what you truly are. It would be easy to call you a monster, but that would imply that you have some level of fear and intimidation to work with, and quite frankly, I’m just ready to wash my hands of you once and for all.

Come Bad Medicine, your nightmares become my feast, your blood my wine, and your soul my prize.”

With a hiss, Betsy sends a bolt of energy to the camera, effectively shutting it down. ]]> <![CDATA[Why?]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42320 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 23:57:06 -0800 Thias Watts]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42320
Why would you put ya career on the line ‘gainst at ole bitch Money Oswald?

Betta yet,

They wanna know why on eurf Thias Watts would wanna put his career on the line gainst Little Money, and in exchange after I beat that ass, why- ON- EURF would Thias wanna tag up with his sworn enemy?

For starters, HOE, Little Money ain’t my sworn enemy. Thias done been made sworn enemies outta erry’body in the XWF since day one. Anyone that crosses Ned Kaye, you cross Thias Watts. You sucka ass mark bitches. Seeing as how erry’one try shittin on my homie Ned, then that’s how it be.

But like I said.

Little Money ain’t my enemy. He’s the lone mother fucker around here that Thias actually respects. Outside of Ned that is. But Ned is doin his own shit right now, fittin ready to murk all you bitches when he comes back.

So let me clear some shut up on the right-quick: Thias RESPEKTS Money Oswald. All you razor shittin FUCKASS hoes ain’t want this. Ol’ Dock-sucka ain’t even want it, not with Thias, not with my homie Ned. Eobard and Cooper? Imma be real for a right-quick, them boys was soft.

But I’ll tell you right now, ol Little Money? Ol’ Little Hands? Bob Baffert-ass lookin hoe with his PONEYtail? Ol’ Oswald been the only motherfuck-scuse’me-only WHITE motherfucker that ever been able to step to Thias.

No.

He’s never beat Thias per se. Home boy pinned Centurion for the Anarchy gold while Terry Borden was trying to take Thias out of the equation. He never beat me the first time either. The body slam match, I had his Ol’ crusty ass lifted about to drop him when DOCK-sucka interfered and Thias Watts won by DQ.

And the hoe ain’t beat me the other time neither. Double DQ cause, for whatever reason , facing the facts… Ozzy can’t beat Thias, and Thias can’t beat Ozzy.

So again I’m asked… WHY?

Why not?! You see these soft ass hoes in the tag team division right now? Goddamn rip off biker gangs and Prior-Wilde knock offs? Fuck them bitches. Ain’t no one in the tag ranks could hold a damn bag of hair ties up to Ozzy’s neatly hair-braided ass, and me? Well, y’all been knowin that Thias Watts is a trill morherfucker.

While Ned is off doin Ned stuff, ya know, plannin to take over the entire goddamn XWF before beating the shit out of the following: James Raven, Robert Main, Dock-sucka, Jim Caedus, Corey that ol way too handsome lookin to be fully male Smith, Thad Duke, and that mark ass hoe Alias- while Ned is preparing to do all of that, Thias is going to do Thias. While BOB is off being exiled for being too goddamn cool to exist, Oswald be doin Oswald.

And Thias is gonna do Little Money.

Little Money is like Thias right now. His crew fell apart, the people he trusts most is doin they own shit. But if he and I band together? A combined 650 pounds of unadulterated TRILL shut, y’all get fucked. Quick. Fast. And in a heart beat.

At Bad Medicine, imma get all up in Little Money’s ass, and then, they won’t be no stopping the Twin Titans. Oswald and Watts.

Fuck around! Find out!]]>
Why would you put ya career on the line ‘gainst at ole bitch Money Oswald?

Betta yet,

They wanna know why on eurf Thias Watts would wanna put his career on the line gainst Little Money, and in exchange after I beat that ass, why- ON- EURF would Thias wanna tag up with his sworn enemy?

For starters, HOE, Little Money ain’t my sworn enemy. Thias done been made sworn enemies outta erry’body in the XWF since day one. Anyone that crosses Ned Kaye, you cross Thias Watts. You sucka ass mark bitches. Seeing as how erry’one try shittin on my homie Ned, then that’s how it be.

But like I said.

Little Money ain’t my enemy. He’s the lone mother fucker around here that Thias actually respects. Outside of Ned that is. But Ned is doin his own shit right now, fittin ready to murk all you bitches when he comes back.

So let me clear some shut up on the right-quick: Thias RESPEKTS Money Oswald. All you razor shittin FUCKASS hoes ain’t want this. Ol’ Dock-sucka ain’t even want it, not with Thias, not with my homie Ned. Eobard and Cooper? Imma be real for a right-quick, them boys was soft.

But I’ll tell you right now, ol Little Money? Ol’ Little Hands? Bob Baffert-ass lookin hoe with his PONEYtail? Ol’ Oswald been the only motherfuck-scuse’me-only WHITE motherfucker that ever been able to step to Thias.

No.

He’s never beat Thias per se. Home boy pinned Centurion for the Anarchy gold while Terry Borden was trying to take Thias out of the equation. He never beat me the first time either. The body slam match, I had his Ol’ crusty ass lifted about to drop him when DOCK-sucka interfered and Thias Watts won by DQ.

And the hoe ain’t beat me the other time neither. Double DQ cause, for whatever reason , facing the facts… Ozzy can’t beat Thias, and Thias can’t beat Ozzy.

So again I’m asked… WHY?

Why not?! You see these soft ass hoes in the tag team division right now? Goddamn rip off biker gangs and Prior-Wilde knock offs? Fuck them bitches. Ain’t no one in the tag ranks could hold a damn bag of hair ties up to Ozzy’s neatly hair-braided ass, and me? Well, y’all been knowin that Thias Watts is a trill morherfucker.

While Ned is off doin Ned stuff, ya know, plannin to take over the entire goddamn XWF before beating the shit out of the following: James Raven, Robert Main, Dock-sucka, Jim Caedus, Corey that ol way too handsome lookin to be fully male Smith, Thad Duke, and that mark ass hoe Alias- while Ned is preparing to do all of that, Thias is going to do Thias. While BOB is off being exiled for being too goddamn cool to exist, Oswald be doin Oswald.

And Thias is gonna do Little Money.

Little Money is like Thias right now. His crew fell apart, the people he trusts most is doin they own shit. But if he and I band together? A combined 650 pounds of unadulterated TRILL shut, y’all get fucked. Quick. Fast. And in a heart beat.

At Bad Medicine, imma get all up in Little Money’s ass, and then, they won’t be no stopping the Twin Titans. Oswald and Watts.

Fuck around! Find out!]]> <![CDATA[Miller Time]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42307 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 23:49:10 -0800 JimCaedus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42307 ======€@£|)μ$======


































CAEDUS REWIND: Last time on "The Fuck's This Dipshit Doin'?"... For the second time in his life, Jim has died. And not just died, he was killed by a bear. And not just any bear, the same inexplicably hibernation ignoring ursa that attacked both Jim and the father of Robert Main nearly four years ago in late December of 2017. Unfortunately without the benefit of his super-strength endowing golden nugget this time around, Jim found the bear to be more than he could handle and fell in battle...






CONTINUED FROM "REGRETS P.2"
http://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42283





"Regrets P.3"




Hours have passed since Jim's death and if there was ever any doubt to the legitimacy of his passing, the unnaturally inanimate qualities displayed with this rigor stiffened corpse before our eyes definitively define the change from Jim Caedus, person, to lifeless object now currently collecting a crowd of insects looking for their midnight meal.


Yeah, this motherfucker dead.


SO of course, impossibly, he coughs, spits up blood and starts to breath again as if returning to his own carcass following some epic afterlife adventure spanning spiritual years in the course of several earth hours.


He attempts to move his right arm and emits the best groan of pain he can muster under the circumstances in reaction to the limb snapped backward at the elbow, his shoulder more than likely also having been popped out of socket.


Jim struggles for agonizing minutes to pull his unbroken left arm out from under his crumpled form and when finally successful slowly crosses his left arm over his torso to poke wavering fingertips into his right hand pants pocket searching for... something; a bitch of a "simple" task to perform even in perfect health. He does his best to "lift" and bend his right leg to speed up the process.


Having to stop and rest several times over the course of the next several minutes, he eventually, thankfully, manages to pinch the sought item between his index and middle fingertips and ever so slowly, carefully, draws his arm back...


...to pull a small tin of mints free. He exhales in pained relief before placing the tin on his chest and opening it. Two small folded pieces of paper rest within. He pulls one out and flips it open:




Your emergency mints as requested hun. Be careful out there and have a Happy Thanksgiving with Drew & the Mains. ❤️ Kaiya




Jim smiles faintly. Arcana... she's a lifesaver. She's always there when he needs her. Even a thousand miles away.


Jim takes a moment to ponder if he's been as reliable and "there" for Arcana as she has been for him for months now... He decides this ain't the best time for such deep thoughts, bookmarks it and returns his attention to the tin.


He plucks the second note free and opens this one as well:




These emergency mints sucked Jim. They neither freshened my breath nor made me any less hungry.

❤️ Drew




Jim's eyes slowly widen in panic.


Resurrection unintentionally thwarted by a pickpocket Apex brother. He wonders if Drew will ever understand exactly what it is he's done with an otherwise innocent and endearing act (I mean if you know Drew, he has a heart of fucking gold, believe me)."


But then...


...Jim spies a single, solitary remaining mint in the tin.


His fingertips pluck the small, ovoid mint free and deliver it to his open mouth. In mere moments, Jim's skin begins to glow, a golden hue that gains in intensity with every passing second, illuminating the night and surrounding forest.


Bruised flesh begins reverting to unmolested healthy tanned white.


Flayed skin begins to "zip up".


Broken bones begin to mend.


The process is excruciating...but Jimmy Caedus is becoming whole once more before our very eyes.


Then finally...the glowing fades, absorbing into his chest. Like the Undertaker, Jim slowly sits up until fully erect, his face close in to the recording XWF drone's lens.



Smiling eyes. If you're shocked...shame on you.


Jim rises to his feet, brushing his still torn and bloodied clothing free as best he can of the dirt and dead leaves then begins walking his way back from which he'd originally trekked, back towards the Main homestead a good mile away.



==================================







"Miller Time"




"What.


The.


Fuck.


"Miller Time"?


Fuckin' "Miller Time"?


Dude.


What's wrong with you? This ain't a joke, I'm askin' sincerely...what the hell's wrong with you?


I called you out on usin' the exact same title, "Miller Time", every time on every promo you've ever released...so your first inclination was to title your very next promo, your one and only hype cycle shot against me, "Miller Time"?


?


I called you out on your promo content itself and how all you do is ramble while drinkin' beer, smokin' cigarettes and blowin' smoke rings. You rambled. Y'drank. Y'smoked. You even blew smoke rings. Y'did ALL 'a that for the whole five minutes of WASTED airtime as if I wrote the script for you ahead 'a time.


You complete fucking idiot.


Kill yourself.


Why are you here?


HOW are you here?


You are officially the WORST hype cycle competitor I've ever come across in my 25 years in this business. And I mean, it's not even close and I'm countin' the no-shows. I'd be willin' to bet you're the worst ANYONE has ever seen in fact. You're legit the only person I know of who's so seemingly and mind blowingly incapable of creativity at the most RUDIMENTARY 'a levels that you fail to use words other than Miller and Time as title material every fuckin' time. Like you think what happens in one promotion is invisible to the rest 'a the wrestlin' world and we won't notice. Like you think outright stealing the slogan of a well-known dumbass beer company is such a powerful gimmick it deserves anything more than a SINGLE tongue-in-cheek sell. Like you think maybe this, the tenth time, it'll go over, which, I gotta say is...just...insane. What else would ya call it?


You're outta your mind, Ma'am. And not the dangerous, intimidating and marketable type 'a crazy, mind you, the shit yourself and fingerpaint with scat type 'a crazy.


Remedial. Gump.


HOW is that level 'a stupidity even possible with a person who isn't currently under the care 'a the state gettin' fed, bathed and her ass wiped by hospital staff?


HOW is this talentless twat even on the fuckin' roster of the XWF, we got PLENTY of enhancement talent signed up; someone thought THIS hack (never before has that adjective been SO aptly placed) was worth another couple thousand a month?


Don't get excited anyone, anyone at all, Ma'am ain't bein' ironic here for a laugh. Ma'am Miller is simply. THIS. BAD.


Bitch can't even fake it til she makes it.


This hooker lied about her past in the Indy circuit, there's simply no way she graduated, and instead did more or less- who wanna bet -exactly as I described... she simply decided one day she wanted to be a professional wrestler, slapped on the Top Guy Slayer moniker as if it would magically lead to unjustified title shots- and it HAS for fucksake, what in God's name is goin' on? -studied some other shit spackled asshole for the most cliché of character garnish- yet inexplicably MISSED all the finer most GENERAL of points to competing in and hyping a match in professional wrestling (how is THAT possible??), somehow convinced THREE promotions to hire her (I'm callin' cock suckin') then proceeded to do absolutely nothin' expected of talent beyond showin' up...and even THAT apparently was a chore this time around.


D'you realize just how disrespectful you've been thus far to the business I love? All the effort and work we all put into our careers...here comes Ma'am who couldn't care less how she or her opponent looks, can't be bothered to give a TITLE MATCH ON A PPV the hype it deserves and is such a literal vacuum 'a creativity it's been noticeably suckin' my balls dry of ideas.


Ma'am Miller is representative of everything NOT to do in this business if the words "success", "accolades" and "legacy" are among your goals. This asshat-


Doesn't try.


Doesn't improve.


Doesn't learn.


Doesn't listen.


Doesn't know.


Doesn't UNDERSTAND...a GODdamn thing.


Ma'am Miller is Chris Chaos without even a FRACTION 'a the FRACTION 'a talent Chris Chaos has...which in context sounds suspiciously complimentary of ol' Corporate Clitoromegaly and that pisses me off. You made me compliment Chaos, cunt, now I'ma hafta hurt you in the match far beyond what I'd previously intended. ? I think under the circumstances, robbin' you 'a the ability to use your mouth is more than appropriate. After all, without it ya won't be able to drink, smoke (much less blow smoke rings you wicked awesome fake tough fuckstick) ramble or fellate your way into another federation. Therefore, I'ma Point Blank headbutt your lower jaw off the hinges then uppercut you so stiffly it legit staples your bottom row of teeth to the roof 'a your mouth.


Lol. Sweet.


Unfortunately, at that moment you'll become too hideous to live and I'll be compelled to boot that balloon head clean offa your neck and up into the rafters where XWF crew are waiting to incorrectly attach wires to it and watch it drop. And when your head does in fact drop I'll catch it, jam my hand in the neck hole, sock puppet your mouth while mimicking your voice and show you how to do a proper promo, pussy. Then I'ma confiscate said head and play a spirited round 'a hungry hungry hippos with Doc and Unknown Soldier's skull.


Oh, c'mon ya mongoloid, calm down...no worries k, I ain't gonna actually kill you. I may be a dickhead but I ain't a murderer, Ma'am, so I'm just gonna break your back at the waist, land ya in a wheelchair then place you at the top of a staircase and forget to set the brakes before I walk away.


At that point I'll leave the question of whether to smoke a cig or drink a beer in response up to you.


I'm banking on miller time."


==================================


JIM!!


Robert Main, clutching his smartphone with flashlight beaming brightly, steps out of the brush to Jim's right. Jim grins and pulls Bob-O into an embrace. Fuck...you're a sight for sore eyes bro.


When they part. GUYS, HE'S OVER HERE!!!


What the hell are you talking about? What the hell were you doing out here for hours on end!? Me, Ollie and Drew have been looking all over, you scared the shit out of us man! My mom is at her wit's end worried about you! Suddenly noticing and taking stock of Jim's shredded, bloodied clothing. Aw geez, who'd you kill, hoss?


Matter of fact. God.


What? Eyeing Jim with worry. You ok?


Never better, Bob-O, never better...


...If you say so. Come on, we have that appointment with the doctor tomorrow. We all need to catch a little shut eye.



Jim almost argues he's been asleep for years but instead remains silent as the two friends and tag teammates make their way back home.


Unseen by either but definitely on camera, a large figure looks on from behind a massive tree...


TO BE CONTINUED...

]]> ======€@£|)μ$======


































CAEDUS REWIND: Last time on "The Fuck's This Dipshit Doin'?"... For the second time in his life, Jim has died. And not just died, he was killed by a bear. And not just any bear, the same inexplicably hibernation ignoring ursa that attacked both Jim and the father of Robert Main nearly four years ago in late December of 2017. Unfortunately without the benefit of his super-strength endowing golden nugget this time around, Jim found the bear to be more than he could handle and fell in battle...






CONTINUED FROM "REGRETS P.2"
http://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42283





"Regrets P.3"




Hours have passed since Jim's death and if there was ever any doubt to the legitimacy of his passing, the unnaturally inanimate qualities displayed with this rigor stiffened corpse before our eyes definitively define the change from Jim Caedus, person, to lifeless object now currently collecting a crowd of insects looking for their midnight meal.


Yeah, this motherfucker dead.


SO of course, impossibly, he coughs, spits up blood and starts to breath again as if returning to his own carcass following some epic afterlife adventure spanning spiritual years in the course of several earth hours.


He attempts to move his right arm and emits the best groan of pain he can muster under the circumstances in reaction to the limb snapped backward at the elbow, his shoulder more than likely also having been popped out of socket.


Jim struggles for agonizing minutes to pull his unbroken left arm out from under his crumpled form and when finally successful slowly crosses his left arm over his torso to poke wavering fingertips into his right hand pants pocket searching for... something; a bitch of a "simple" task to perform even in perfect health. He does his best to "lift" and bend his right leg to speed up the process.


Having to stop and rest several times over the course of the next several minutes, he eventually, thankfully, manages to pinch the sought item between his index and middle fingertips and ever so slowly, carefully, draws his arm back...


...to pull a small tin of mints free. He exhales in pained relief before placing the tin on his chest and opening it. Two small folded pieces of paper rest within. He pulls one out and flips it open:




Your emergency mints as requested hun. Be careful out there and have a Happy Thanksgiving with Drew & the Mains. ❤️ Kaiya




Jim smiles faintly. Arcana... she's a lifesaver. She's always there when he needs her. Even a thousand miles away.


Jim takes a moment to ponder if he's been as reliable and "there" for Arcana as she has been for him for months now... He decides this ain't the best time for such deep thoughts, bookmarks it and returns his attention to the tin.


He plucks the second note free and opens this one as well:




These emergency mints sucked Jim. They neither freshened my breath nor made me any less hungry.

❤️ Drew




Jim's eyes slowly widen in panic.


Resurrection unintentionally thwarted by a pickpocket Apex brother. He wonders if Drew will ever understand exactly what it is he's done with an otherwise innocent and endearing act (I mean if you know Drew, he has a heart of fucking gold, believe me)."


But then...


...Jim spies a single, solitary remaining mint in the tin.


His fingertips pluck the small, ovoid mint free and deliver it to his open mouth. In mere moments, Jim's skin begins to glow, a golden hue that gains in intensity with every passing second, illuminating the night and surrounding forest.


Bruised flesh begins reverting to unmolested healthy tanned white.


Flayed skin begins to "zip up".


Broken bones begin to mend.


The process is excruciating...but Jimmy Caedus is becoming whole once more before our very eyes.


Then finally...the glowing fades, absorbing into his chest. Like the Undertaker, Jim slowly sits up until fully erect, his face close in to the recording XWF drone's lens.



Smiling eyes. If you're shocked...shame on you.


Jim rises to his feet, brushing his still torn and bloodied clothing free as best he can of the dirt and dead leaves then begins walking his way back from which he'd originally trekked, back towards the Main homestead a good mile away.



==================================







"Miller Time"




"What.


The.


Fuck.


"Miller Time"?


Fuckin' "Miller Time"?


Dude.


What's wrong with you? This ain't a joke, I'm askin' sincerely...what the hell's wrong with you?


I called you out on usin' the exact same title, "Miller Time", every time on every promo you've ever released...so your first inclination was to title your very next promo, your one and only hype cycle shot against me, "Miller Time"?


?


I called you out on your promo content itself and how all you do is ramble while drinkin' beer, smokin' cigarettes and blowin' smoke rings. You rambled. Y'drank. Y'smoked. You even blew smoke rings. Y'did ALL 'a that for the whole five minutes of WASTED airtime as if I wrote the script for you ahead 'a time.


You complete fucking idiot.


Kill yourself.


Why are you here?


HOW are you here?


You are officially the WORST hype cycle competitor I've ever come across in my 25 years in this business. And I mean, it's not even close and I'm countin' the no-shows. I'd be willin' to bet you're the worst ANYONE has ever seen in fact. You're legit the only person I know of who's so seemingly and mind blowingly incapable of creativity at the most RUDIMENTARY 'a levels that you fail to use words other than Miller and Time as title material every fuckin' time. Like you think what happens in one promotion is invisible to the rest 'a the wrestlin' world and we won't notice. Like you think outright stealing the slogan of a well-known dumbass beer company is such a powerful gimmick it deserves anything more than a SINGLE tongue-in-cheek sell. Like you think maybe this, the tenth time, it'll go over, which, I gotta say is...just...insane. What else would ya call it?


You're outta your mind, Ma'am. And not the dangerous, intimidating and marketable type 'a crazy, mind you, the shit yourself and fingerpaint with scat type 'a crazy.


Remedial. Gump.


HOW is that level 'a stupidity even possible with a person who isn't currently under the care 'a the state gettin' fed, bathed and her ass wiped by hospital staff?


HOW is this talentless twat even on the fuckin' roster of the XWF, we got PLENTY of enhancement talent signed up; someone thought THIS hack (never before has that adjective been SO aptly placed) was worth another couple thousand a month?


Don't get excited anyone, anyone at all, Ma'am ain't bein' ironic here for a laugh. Ma'am Miller is simply. THIS. BAD.


Bitch can't even fake it til she makes it.


This hooker lied about her past in the Indy circuit, there's simply no way she graduated, and instead did more or less- who wanna bet -exactly as I described... she simply decided one day she wanted to be a professional wrestler, slapped on the Top Guy Slayer moniker as if it would magically lead to unjustified title shots- and it HAS for fucksake, what in God's name is goin' on? -studied some other shit spackled asshole for the most cliché of character garnish- yet inexplicably MISSED all the finer most GENERAL of points to competing in and hyping a match in professional wrestling (how is THAT possible??), somehow convinced THREE promotions to hire her (I'm callin' cock suckin') then proceeded to do absolutely nothin' expected of talent beyond showin' up...and even THAT apparently was a chore this time around.


D'you realize just how disrespectful you've been thus far to the business I love? All the effort and work we all put into our careers...here comes Ma'am who couldn't care less how she or her opponent looks, can't be bothered to give a TITLE MATCH ON A PPV the hype it deserves and is such a literal vacuum 'a creativity it's been noticeably suckin' my balls dry of ideas.


Ma'am Miller is representative of everything NOT to do in this business if the words "success", "accolades" and "legacy" are among your goals. This asshat-


Doesn't try.


Doesn't improve.


Doesn't learn.


Doesn't listen.


Doesn't know.


Doesn't UNDERSTAND...a GODdamn thing.


Ma'am Miller is Chris Chaos without even a FRACTION 'a the FRACTION 'a talent Chris Chaos has...which in context sounds suspiciously complimentary of ol' Corporate Clitoromegaly and that pisses me off. You made me compliment Chaos, cunt, now I'ma hafta hurt you in the match far beyond what I'd previously intended. ? I think under the circumstances, robbin' you 'a the ability to use your mouth is more than appropriate. After all, without it ya won't be able to drink, smoke (much less blow smoke rings you wicked awesome fake tough fuckstick) ramble or fellate your way into another federation. Therefore, I'ma Point Blank headbutt your lower jaw off the hinges then uppercut you so stiffly it legit staples your bottom row of teeth to the roof 'a your mouth.


Lol. Sweet.


Unfortunately, at that moment you'll become too hideous to live and I'll be compelled to boot that balloon head clean offa your neck and up into the rafters where XWF crew are waiting to incorrectly attach wires to it and watch it drop. And when your head does in fact drop I'll catch it, jam my hand in the neck hole, sock puppet your mouth while mimicking your voice and show you how to do a proper promo, pussy. Then I'ma confiscate said head and play a spirited round 'a hungry hungry hippos with Doc and Unknown Soldier's skull.


Oh, c'mon ya mongoloid, calm down...no worries k, I ain't gonna actually kill you. I may be a dickhead but I ain't a murderer, Ma'am, so I'm just gonna break your back at the waist, land ya in a wheelchair then place you at the top of a staircase and forget to set the brakes before I walk away.


At that point I'll leave the question of whether to smoke a cig or drink a beer in response up to you.


I'm banking on miller time."


==================================


JIM!!


Robert Main, clutching his smartphone with flashlight beaming brightly, steps out of the brush to Jim's right. Jim grins and pulls Bob-O into an embrace. Fuck...you're a sight for sore eyes bro.


When they part. GUYS, HE'S OVER HERE!!!


What the hell are you talking about? What the hell were you doing out here for hours on end!? Me, Ollie and Drew have been looking all over, you scared the shit out of us man! My mom is at her wit's end worried about you! Suddenly noticing and taking stock of Jim's shredded, bloodied clothing. Aw geez, who'd you kill, hoss?


Matter of fact. God.


What? Eyeing Jim with worry. You ok?


Never better, Bob-O, never better...


...If you say so. Come on, we have that appointment with the doctor tomorrow. We all need to catch a little shut eye.



Jim almost argues he's been asleep for years but instead remains silent as the two friends and tag teammates make their way back home.


Unseen by either but definitely on camera, a large figure looks on from behind a massive tree...


TO BE CONTINUED...

]]> <![CDATA[K.I.L.L. Y.O.U.R.S E.L.V.E.S. - An APEX collaboration]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42319 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 23:40:41 -0800 JimCaedus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42319 =======Ω/\/\€Ģ@ €@£|)Ų$=======

































"One more 'gain, Bob-O."


"No Jim, we've gotta go."


"One more 'gain, Drewski."


Puts an arm around his Little's shoulders. "I have to bring Corney home, Jim, no."


"One more 'gain, Charlie."


"Dude, stop calling me charlie. You didn't get enough of that ass whooped already?"


"WHAT!? Control your boy Drewski."


"Cornelius that isn't polite. When you refer to Jim as 'dude' you're implying that he's a man. It's 2021, watch the pronouns."


"That's right ya little sh- HEY!!"



Oliver Main arrives with the transportation; coincidentally enough, the old APEX MEAT WAGON newly repaired after being poof/warped above- and dropped onto -Jim's house on Naples Island by Snoop Dogg's bodyguard at the time, XWF superstar Trax, lo oh so many years ago, still reading APEX FINE MEATS across the sides.


Ollie hollers from the driver's seat.



"Alright men. And Jim-"


"HEY!!"


"-your carriage has arrived."


Corney rubs his eyes and yawns, Drew tussles his hair and chuckles, adding warmly, "I think someone's had a long day of embarrassing the X-Treme Champ and is all tuckered out. You're about ready for a nap lil' guy."


Bitterly, darkening expression. "Yes... sleep well. Have sweet dreams 'a me tunnel-ratting aaaaaaaaaall the way over to your house and under your bed like that of your NVA kin. I'll show you exactly how America won the war, Charlie."


Thwacking Jim over the back of the head. "America lost."


"Yeah, idiot, even I know that." Deftly kicks Jim in the balls 'cause Jim is JUST short enough for a child to do so.


As Jim crumbles. "Corney, that wasn't nice. You shouldn't call people idiots. Even idiots like Jim."


Fetal position, painfully as Drew and Cornelius pile into the van. "I know where you live!"


Helping Jim to his feet. "Lay off Corney, Jim. You made that poor kid very happy today, can't you take solace in that, hoss?"


"Yeah, made 'im happy at my expense- LOOK what that little cheater did!!"



Jim turns to reveal a perfect circle burn through the ass of his shorts and boxers, as well as the two perfect half circles burned into the flesh of his ACTUAL ass that, while his otherwise sexy cheeks are pressed together, form the same perfect circle with, adorably enough, placement right over where his brown eye would be. Drew and Cornelius hi-five as Ollie erupts with laughter.



Stifling a whistle laugh. "How did that even happen? It's Laser Tag."


"How? How?? I'll TELL ya how, that little villain tampered with his laser gun in there!!"


"Did not!"


As Main holds him back. "Don't you LIE to me!! C'mere!!"



::BEEP-BEEEEP BEEP-BEEEEP BEEP-BEEEEP::



"The hell is that?"


Checking his pocket. "Just got a page bro."


"You have a freaking pager? I didn't even know those things still existed "


"Yeah man, since high school."


From the van. "What's a pager, Drew?"


"Pagers are from the Way Back, Corney."


"The 90s?"


"That's the one. They came before flip phones and smartphones. Pagers were most frequently utilized by blue collar men on call, pimps and every now and then seen worn as a sign of status in high school by douchebag posers like Jim."


Reading pager message out loud. "Nine one one. America needs your help. Call 555-5555 if you accept. This message will self destruct in seven thousand two hundred and twenty milliseconds. Perception is key. Live in the now." Looking to Main, a derisive snort. "Maaaaaaan, just some asshole prank pagin' me."



Jim slides the pager back onto the top of his right side short's pocket, clip on the outside.



"Welp, shall we?" Gestures to the van.


"After you Ji-."



::POW!!::



The pager explodes, blowing Jim's right side pocket to bits and splitting his shorts up the side and through the waistband. His shorts drop around his ankles. Jim's exposed ass is facing the street as passers by look on pointing.



As Drew, Corney and Ollie erupt with laughter. "Jesus H Christ! You're f'n britches just got blown off… This is hilarious, man now we've all seen your ass hole."


Eyes wide, mouth agape, grabbing Main by the sides of his shoulders. "Hoooooolyyy SHIT! Mainiac...do you know what this MEANS bro!?"


Shoving Jim back slightly with both eyebrows raised, shielding his eyes. "Uh… Pull. Those. Up. Now."


"It means that page was LEGIT! What was the number it said to call!?"


"You can't remember 555-5555? What's with this guy?"


"I DON'T know, Corney, I JUST don't know. Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing. Then I remember, there is nothing on this planet more entertaining than this group of wild people."


Already bending down and pulling his smartphone from his left shorts pocket still around his ankles then dialing......... ::click:: "Hello?? You sent me a nine one one page? Jimmy Caedus and Robert Main reporting for duty!"


"Hey, don't be pulling me into this with you, I don't want my shit exploding, we gotta go, Ji-."


"SHHHHHH!! ..Hello?"


Voice modulated like that of Jigsaw. "Good evening Mister Caedus, thank you for your quick response. I am a representative for the Central Intelligence Agency. This is an emergency, your country needs you. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, has been laid out in great detail and can be found in a secret dossier within a manilla envelope stuffed into a package hidden at your current location. Time is of the essence Mister Caedus. Do you accept?"


Looking to Main who is shaking his head.


" Damn it Jim…"


Already knowing what Jim is going to say, Robert starts jumping up and down like a crazy person waving his arms around…


"_Yes_ I do."


"Very well. I will be in touch with the directions to the package."


"Can't you tell me on the phone? We're "in touch" right _now_."


"............................No." ::click::


Lowering his phone. "Well THAT seems less than efficient."



::BVVVVVVVT::



Raising phone again. "AHA! A text message!"


Frowning in genuine curiosity. "...What's it say? I get a call and my phone explodes damaging my piss pump. We are going to have a major issue..."


Robert grabs his crotch...


"Says...go to the other side 'a the Laser Tag building. Talk about anticlimactic... Oh well, c'mon bro." Begins to walk to the opposite side of the building, stepping out of his shorts as he does so, lasered boxers and butt cheeks still exposed.



Robert facepalms then catches up.


As the two reach their destination a lengthy forty seconds later...



Looking around the immediate area...that being the alternate parking lot for Laser Tag ftr... "The fuck...I don't see anything, do you?"


Uncomfortably, "Just people staring at the forty one year old creep in his boxers. Keep this up and you won't be able to be with in one hundred feet of a school..." Sheepishly waves and smiles at someone off camera then shrugs before chidingly, "Go back and get your shorts, Jim, this is humiliating and weird..."


Eyeing the parked vehicles ? "Cars eh? Maybe the emergency plan in the secret dossier in the manilla folder in the package is in a car?" Mimes raising up his non-existent sleeve.


"Please don't start smashing windows, Jim."



::BVVVVVVVT::



"Oh, no, wait... Got another text. ..."Go to the back of the building," it says. Well, alrighty.."



Robert sighs before lighting a cigar with his father's Zippo then begrudgingly follows Jim. Every few feet Robert releases a cloud of smoke trying to calm his nerves from the madness unfolding.


An epic minute and a half later they arrive at the rear employee parking lot. Jim immediately spies the dumpster.



"Bam?? You in there?? I believe you have a package for me??"


"You're not serious."


Laughs. "Course not, Bob-O, I'm not a COMPLETE moron..."


"Not completely, no. Maybe Peter Vaughan Is in there. I mean the guys trash after all..."




::BVVVVVVVT::




Nudges Main. "Our benefactor. Lesse here... The message says, "take a right". Well that seems easy enough."


"The message says take a right?"


Jogging. "COME ON BOB-O, WE'RE AT THE HOME STRETCH, I CAN FEEL IT!!" Speeds up.



Jim comes sprinting around the corner of the back of the Laser Tag building beaming with the anticipation of impending victory.




::BVVVVVVVT::



Jim screeches to a halt, his palms sweating...the FINAL message for the location of his package, it HAD to be. He opens the text-



OLIVER MAIN

Get in the fucking van, double O ]



Face contorts in perplexion. "The fuck?"



Jim looks up into the faces of Drew, Corney and Ollie, all staring directly at him from the van ?



"...You assholes..."


As the van once more explodes with laughter, walking past Jim to the van. "Who says Oliver isn't Apex material?"



Jim retrieves his shorts and hikes them up, tying a knot with the thin material to keep them up around his hips, then joins Apex in the van.


The Meat Wagon is on the move...



"You guys don't mind if Jim and I cut a promo do you?"


"Go for it Bob. Earmuffs, Corney."


"Aww maaaaaaan."



Robert leans over the first back row seat, slips a laptop out from the pouch behind the driver's seat then sits back down in the rear, alongside Jim, and looks to the lens.



” Mark Flynn, whether Apex is wrestling the present-day rendition of your pipsqueak ass, or a past interpretation, or anything else in between… I’ve got a bit of intelligence for you…”


Robert’s lips leisurely lift from each corner of his mouth as he smiles, his smirk brought out a sense of mischief and innocent fun. He lifts his brows and flashes his middle finger then begins tapping Morse code.


[b] .--. ..- ... ... -.-- .- ... ... .-.. --- ... . .-. ...


"S'wrong boys? Thought Bob-O and I had our heads up our asses the whole time? Thought you were mind fuckin' us into confusion? Yeah, we know you been tryna spin a web 'round the whole multiversal, alternate counterpart, "which way did they go" gayroddery. You ain't lost us, we just ain't playin'.


Is it Flynn and NK that have the tag straps? Is it Kyodai and Ricky Goldhart aka the CanJap Connection?? Are the tag titles in the hands of alternate versions of Flynn and NK borne from a multiversal portal at the KFC YUM! CENTER after knocking out the Flynn and NK we all know and ignore to go on and take the Tag Titles offa TNGB allegedly on the 18th of October despite Warfare being on Wednesday the 19th and the show broadcast a day later on the 20th!?? Will it change the beatdown Bob-O and I'll be givin' to whomever gimps on down to the ring at Bad Medicine!??


...Shut the fuck up with your classless, convoluted dollar DVD bin sci-fi fellatin' horseshit. It's all the same to two proven titan veterans like The Omega and I. Adapting to our opponents is second nature in and outta the ring."


Robert folds his arms…


'' We don’t care who you guys are or who you are pretending to be, you guys can pull a Betsy Granger and travel your twat waffle asses through space and time shtick all you’d like. You can be T-1000’s, live in the matrix, have NKWC stick three dozen sparklers in his bung hole, light them and pretend he’s Kim Jong-un with nuclear weapons… Don’t matter to us, what’s likely is one or both of you pulling a rainbow-colored sex toy out of your assess Livin' La Vida Loca. Listen, no matter the scenario Apex wins convincingly… You can pull Tag Team Championships from an alternate timeline off Disney Plus or even the XWF multiverse. We don’t care, at the end of the day Apex will own them all and become the XWF multiverse Tag Team Champions of all… Shit what’s the word I’m looking for here…”


Jim leans in covering his mouth and whispers something into Robert’s ear…


” Right… Good thinking Jim… XWF Tag Team Champions of all reality?”


Robert scratches his head…


” Is that right?”


Jim shrugs as Drew shouts from the front seat…


" Dumb…"


Robert shakes his head frustrated with Drew's reply…


" Listen to this guy, huh? You worry about Corney..."


" Still dumb…"


” I'll admit it sounds a bit odd…"


Robert raises his index finger into the air.


" But we are sticking with it… We’re getting so convoluted with bullshit soon I won’t know which way is up… What’s dumbass in Morse code?”


Robert and Jim both start tapping around when Jim nudges Robert…


“Got it right here, Maniac my brotha.”


-.. ..- -- -... .- ... ...


"Thank God for the Boy Scouts of America…” 3-finger salutes into space.


A concerned look falls over Robert’s face…


".............what."


” Nothing… I’ve just heard about a lot of bad things that happened… Did anyone touch you? They have settlements for that shit now…”


"Did anyone touch me, of course someone touched me. Right here."



Oliver, cocking an eyebrow, glances in the rearview to see Jim pointing...at his heart. Damn.



"My Scout Master Dallas Sterling, he meant a whole helluva lot me. Taught me how to aim. Taught me how to shoot. Taught me how to suck-"



Robert gives Jim the side eye glance…



"...POISON! From a snakebite! Suck poison from a snakebite! ...He also taught me morse code, he was a grizzled 'Nam vet, a real inspiration for me."


” Anywho back to our opponents, Flynn NK please don’t go after the low hanging fruit on the tree and change your gender mid-way à la Bruce Blingsteen… The world is woke enough. Plus, it’s been done several times now once with gender fluid that the XWF sold in the X-shop… Getting off track again here, but it’s all true. No matter how you want to slice this thing we were constructed for this type of engagement. And you two dick-less pricks can try as hard as you'd like to cause mass confusion, but it’s not going to work… Leslie Chow want to fuck on us? Give us a break Hong Kong Phooey and wax on, then wax off Mark’s custard launcher, cum from sum old guy anyone? The only thing criminal about you NK is those freaking promo skills hoss. Abysmal is an understatement and from this point forward is going to be the secret word… Do everyone a favor NK and get your tiny Korean water chestnuts out of Mark’s mouth so he can get a grasp on reality for a second and I don't know speak. I’m starting to think all the forced head trauma might have long term effects on the man’s well-being… If two jackasses think for a second that Jim and I will fall for the same thing that mind fucked Dolly Waters? You're mistaken”


-.. ..- -- -... .- ... ... . ...



Jim is staring, jaw dropped, at Main.



"What?"


"You're on another LEVEL with this trash talk, bro! I am...I am SO fuckin' proud 'a you. Jesus CHRIST Flynn and NK fucked up. Tell 'em our first course of action Bob-O."


'' Our first course of action in this match is straightforward, the fundamental core of our entire game plan going into this Championship match is to outwork and outperform each of you no matter where this match takes us. So, here’s what we are going to do about the two negative guys trying to piss on our parade by dragging us down the rabbit hole. We could have hopped right into your little game and played right along with you. But that right there would give each of you unjust satisfaction, knowing that you got into our heads. Our preferred methodology for this entire situation is rather simplistic in nature. Ignore you two and stomp two mud holes in the center of that ring. You two seem to have this belief that Apex is putting on a gigantic front, that we’re not the men we claim to be… Take a long look around, we’ve bodied everyone who has ever drummed up enough intestinal fortitude to step up to the plate, splattering the ring with their brains. We paint Picasso’s with our enemy’s life fluid and have been doing that for years… We are about to take things to a level neither one of you have ever seen before and might never see again.”


--. .- -- . --- ...- . .-.



"Shit bro, these bitches don't know shit about next level, they couldn't even muster the testicular fortitude to come at us directly like men this whole damn time. I ain't seen a less virile, more sad and flaccid pair since Bourbon whipped his junk out in the bathroom in front 'a me at Anarchy Throwback. There's legit less semen in Flynn and NK's balls combined than there is demon jizz in Betsy Granger's mouth _right now_."


” As you two keep focusing on everything and everyone else Jim and I will keep grinding… And after the final bell sounds and you two are staring up at the arena lights, you’ll realize that you are no longer Tag Team Champions and have nothing else to talk about… We are going to take what is rightfully ours and banish the two of you from this division forever… After a match with us, your pissing blood and eating through a tube for weeks, all you’ve got to do is ask around… And if for any reason the two of you believe that we are not the ferocious, hard-hitting undomesticated savages we’ve become known for. You’re going to be in for one of the longest nights of your lives and that’s not an understatement. It’s just the unmitigated truth. It’s a promise and if you decide to keep that stance you’ll die on that imaginary hill you two are trying to defend. Now I don’t know about Jim, but I am a very headstrong man, immutable at times, but the one thing that Robert Main is not is artificial. I am every bit as merciless as I claim to be, Jim and I together though tearing a hole in this Tag Team division is something else altogether. We are the war machine of the XWF, the Genghis Khan’s of this generation of wrestling. Apex isn’t here just for keepsakes that we can throw over our shoulders, we’re here to put heads over our fireplace and take the hell over, period.”


-... .. - -.-. .... . ...


"Oh I love me some head, Bob-O. We gotta share 'em though; you can have NK, I'll take Mark Flynn. I wanna stick that dome 'a his INTO the fire and watch it burn and crisp then piss on it and see if it splits. SWEEEEEEET."


” We are the most unsympathetic sons of bitches to ever step foot inside the squared circle. In that ring Apex is and always will be as stubborn as a bull and just as uncontrollable out of the chute, once that bell sounds, we see only one color and that’s red. We strive to do the unimaginable all the while being bloodthirsty and inhumane. Ask anyone that we have steamrolled where their pride stood after we smashed them like a piñata. Better yet ask them where their guaranteed victory went, how they assured the entire world that they would slay the beast known as Apex… Out of all the broken promises we’ve heard over the years none of them amounted to anything other than another landslide victory, another masterstroke in a game we dominate… These men just like you Flynn and you NK were doing nothing more than blowing smoke up everyone's ass hoping someone would buy into the hype train… We’ve taken the dreams of an unfathomable number of supposed superstars and turned them into God damn nightmares, time and time again Apex has proven that our tried-and-true courses of action win… The naysayers and rationalists are always counterfactual at best. We serve steaming helpings of humble pie every-time we step foot inside the ring. Bad Medicine is no different than any other time where we were told we couldn’t, yet we did… They say that silence is golden. Duct tape though is silver…”


.- .--. . -..- .-- .. -. ...


"Well, until it's washed over in crimson 'a course, which you can safely assume alludes to the moment Bob-O and I remove those heads in the ring with all the subtlety of a swung broadsword."


” Over and over again they have all perished by the sword Apex wields. They witness the violence firsthand, and once they get a morsel, they back down and step off their high horse rather quickly. Hopping down off the soapbox and exiting that ivory tower with swiftness… Just take Chris Page, for example, he swore up and down he would end my career and prove to me and the world he was the better wrestler. How did that play out for the “Stoned One”? Packed those bags and bounced. He fell for the oldest trick in the book, I let him think he could defeat me… We are the very thing you could never become in the past Flynn and that’s a God, damn winner… Come Bad Medicine your painstaking challenge begins, the backbreaking lesson you’ll never forget etched inside of your minds forever until the day each of you die. Every single man or woman that Apex has ever faced has had an uphill battle… In the end Jim Caedus and Robert Main have only pilfered away a handful of matches over the years. Very few have ever had the bragging rights bestowed upon them, saying that they pinned either one of us. What have either one of you done over your countless years wrestling punch-drunk in the ring? As of recently, the current era, not one damn thing worth mentioning beyond snatching the titles off two tired hasbeens. This is the what have you done for me lately business and gentlemen you haven’t done much of anything besides having those titles dropped into your laps by two waste of space pussies.”


"Oh I'm sure they'll both have plenty to claim and wax on about once they 'hit us' with their impending final promo, a promo I'm positive they'll finally show some modicum 'a decency for the fans who came to see a FIGHT and do their best to insult us Bob-O.



::BVVVVVVVT::



"Weeeeeeeeell...speakin' 'a the two most overrated cocksuckers on the roster, Mark Flynn and NK finally uploaded, Bob. Let's watch...




::Time Jump a Wasted Thirty Minutes Later::



"Aaaaaaand done. And just as expected, an entire shoot they didn't have the balls to unleash earlier without fear of us rippin' their tongues out over it. Sucks for them, 'cause now we get to reply. DOH!


Reply to such stupendous arguments like tryna gloss over that loss to Betsy and Ly. They said exactly what we already cut 'em off at the pass with, Bob. Coppin' out with the limp-dick excuses over monsters bein' involved. I guess what was said before bears repeatin'...




Flynn and NK didn't do what was necessary to win. PERIOD.




"Arrogant jag-off motherfuckers, you're fuckin' pathetic. You couldn't beat Impossible Entity because THEY weren't burnin' out like the Bastards and quite simply, 'cause you ain't got what it takes. That's all there is to it. That's exactly why you waited to drop that blank shot of a shoot, you got nothin' 'a substance nor weight to say.


Like how bringin' up shit that happened without Jim Caedus as an active member of Apex is in any way relevant to facin' Robert Main and...oh shit, me, Jim Caedus, at Bad Medicine. ??? Thanks for makin' a point to point that out ya pinheaded pissant taint ticklin' lames. Oh, and, bringin' up James Raven- a temporary replacement for yours truly -and every other name you dropped to waste time talkin' shit on the exclusivity of Apex is asinine. The aforementioned temp addition 'a James aside, Legacy and Prophecy ain't Apex. Apex is Apex. The original founders, Drewski, Bob-O and Jim Caedus. Every off-shoot stable that came after was in an effort to compensate for the breakin' apart 'a the original triumvirate. Which, unluckily for you, has been reborn and alive and well since I made my return. Jim Caedus, the dickhead piece 'a shit you two'll be meetin' tomorrow night. Not Raven. Not Ned. Not Oliver whom, if you super smart sassy asshats paid attention, ain't a member of Apex either. Tossin' the rest 'a Main's fam in there was graspin' at straws to an embarrassing degree dumbfucks.


Is this really the best you got? Jesus jizz castin' Christ, I'm legit gettin' hard right now Bob-O. The most Flynn and NK can do is sling mud at topics that have absolutely no bearing on facin' US in the ring. They comment on the LONGEST TAG REIGN IN HISTORY ending with a loss to whom they call the WORST tag champs in history...nah, Mark, the worst tag champs in history are Flynn and NK. I'm SHOCKED there's been such heavy timestream themes in your nerdlinger product but you two never thought to peek at the end of our match at Bad Medicine. Flynn and NK lie defeated, vindicated as unworthy and as incapable as they ALREADY proved by winning the straps and then LOSING the very next match against a BRAND NEW TAG TEAM with less than THREE matches under their belts you definitive vagtastic twats. The ONE victory they have AS Tag Champs is against Salt n' fuckin' Peppa. Jobbers. So when Bob and I violently remove you from those pedastals you're currently jackin' eachother off on, you WILL go down as the greatest punchline in tag champ history...and FINALLY...you can sit back and take in the sound of raucous laughter from the majority. Finally the comic duo will have been funny enough to make 'em all laugh.


You're welcome, wimps.


I'll go ahead and eyeroll past your amazing "How to TT As A Pussy Who Doesn't Know How to TT 101, Chapter One" rundown of our contract info which is just, honestly, insanely disappointing you legit chose scrapin' the bottom 'a the barrel for FILLER MATERIAL IN LIEU OF NO REAL SOLID POINTS instead 'a usin' those oh so impressive IQs to think up somethin' with some kick to it.


And that right there is essentially EVERYTHING those two mentioned that's worth mentioning unless I mention the meat and potatoes 'a their tirade was further criticism of an Apex they ain't facin'. An Apex without me. Sure, they flung the weakest insults and snaps I've ever been subjected to- in an effort to, fuck, idk, tryta discredit me? -but there ain't no credibility in cuttin' on me. The worst and most embarrassin' shit about ME I did to myself. I readily admit it. I own it. And NONE of it has stopped me since my return. Just like it ain't gonna slow me OR Bob-O down in this match.


Mark, NK, any insignificant amount 'a respect I had for the two 'a you in dethroning the Bastards, however weakened and easily toppled they were at the time, vanished the moment your shoot ended. I can't believe I actually thought there was gonna be anything to worry about. You punk motherfuckers swing nothin' but the inaccurate and the irrelevant but you got the BALLS to in any way act so sure 'a yourselves?


I know Flynn's crazy but NK...buddy, if I'd known you were as incompetent as your partner there never woulda be a parachute applied to the NK Special. I woulda let ya die. Everything Rob and I have said during this hype cycle has now been made concrete.


You're cowards.


You're fluke champions.


And you ain't got anywhere near what it would take to stop us with the strategies you rely on.


The thing is...I still don't think you two understand just how telling those strategies are for ring competency. See, hookers, when y'become infamous for cheating, which you have, guys like Bob and I walk into the match AND the hype cycle expectin' shady shit and lack 'a spine from our opponents. You didn't disappoint. You did exactly what we expected you to do, as ludicrous as that may sound given the complex nature of all the crap you been uploadin', but simply put, it's bitch made bullshit and we backhand bullshit makin' bitches with ease. You've shown time and again the two 'a you rely on cowardice and rule breakin'/"bending" (die, Mark) to wage war. Fuck that. This is a meteoric rise and we refuse to be the ones to fall ... ain't no nutless trickery gonna stop Apex. We got two fists fulla dynamite and middle fingers and no more patience for high fives."


" Number nine's better…"


" Why nine?"


" Because Jim, a pussy has nine lives…"


"And those pussies are gonna burn through all 9 after pullin' pussyfootin' fucktardery 'round us."


" These two clowns are attacking the greatest wrestlers on this planet with plastic guns… We were built for this and cannot get back one drop of the blood we have spilt for this moment. It’s bothersome, isn’t it? Knowing you are walking into a match with two men that are no piece of cake. Knowing we will not lay down for you and we will throw fists until our last breaths leaves our bodies. We here in Apex don’t sell the world snake oil, we’re not living cheats, or breed deception and dishonesty. Our records prove otherwise, we are in the history books for a reason. We are the titans in this game, walking icons… We do what we say, we speak the truth and conquer all our matches. NK, Flynn you two are a misrepresentation of what wrestling should be, two double-dealing snakes in the grass too worried about their next reality altering adventure to give two shits about the fans that pay to see a great show put on by the greatest wrestlers on God’s green Earth… You fuckers are impostors and swindlers hoodwinking the world one terrible promo at a time. The time for Tag Team treachery comes to an end, no more swindling the fans out of their hard-earned dollars. The final act is playing on your reign, and Apex, will be pulling the final curtain on the shit show you've called a Tag Team wrestling… You two counterfeit bastards will no longer run their dick suckers about things they know nothing about. The facts are just that, the facts, the proof is in the pudding when it comes to who we are and what we are capable of… We are just more enhanced, the superior men in and out of the ring. You two, on the other hand, go through the same hellish cycle every month, you try to get on the mend or the road to winning ways. And just when you think you’re out of the woods and have a victory in the palm of your hands… You relapse.”


"Well that's because Mark Flynn and NK are compelled to the cunt ways 'a the force, Bob-O. Once a cunt, always a cunt. They ain't ever gonna have the strength or the self confidence to do it the honorable way. They ain't ever gonna be the type of opponents to stand face to face with two men the likes a' The Omega Mainiac and Killer Caedus then have their asses handed to 'em publicly. They're gonna lie, they're gonna cheat, they're gonna tryta screw their way to victory then, again, have their asses handed to 'em publicly. Which I'm guessin' feels a whole helluva better when you can just copout with excuses as opposed to takin' and admittin' to receiving an ass gapin' from Apex with pride."


” Do you know what the main ingredient to victory is, girls? Discipline… Being a Champion is one monumental battle of tug of war and you cannot win that fight by pushing that rope. You’ve got to pull that son of a bitch… This match is no different than any other circumstance that Jim or I have ever faced before. We’ve each faced our own demons in that ring, walked out into the center and stared that monster in the eyes and fought tooth and nail for what we believed was right. Just like that rope, we are going to pull ourselves through this match, and with each second that passes we will gain confidence. Each blow will become less painful, as each of you look us in the eyes you will come to the realization that Apex is outworking the crowd. I don’t want this to come as a surprise, but we are going to be triumphant in this match as we battle and fight using every single tool necessary to crush you two into smithereens… We are going to move like generals in that ring with a swiftness never seen before as we outthink and outmaneuver our enemy. Our goal isn’t getting the rock to the top of the mountain like everyone else. Our goal is pushing that rock, because pushing that rock pushes each member of this brotherhood. It makes us tougher, makes us harder than anyone else walking around the XWF mentally and physically… This goal gives us much more than we could ever give it in return. People like us want to struggle and grind while we dig in and push. We don’t want it to end, because the very second we get that rock to the top of that mountain, and it stayed there. One of us would roll it back down and we'd all start grinding as a unit all over again.“


"Hell, grinding is a concept Flynn and NK are unfamiliar with. Everything they do in battle whether physical or war of words is the path 'a least resistance and somehow they believe that kinda titty baby buttfuckery is gonna keep 'em on top since it got 'em there against TNGB in the first place; albeit literally the moment the Bastards fizzled the fuck out.

Why the concept of 'that dickless shit ain't enough' didn't occur to 'em the moment two chicks who couldn't hold a team together for two months caught a win over 'em on the Shove It is beyond me. I'd say the brass took notice of their inability, however, and that whole feedin' Flynn and NK enhancement talent leadin' into this hype cycle was a decision more than likely made in the interest of ensuring it's APEX who removes the straps from those place-holdin' hacks as opposed to a team they can't trust to shine or stick around for any longer than a cup 'a coffee and a handjob."


” Since either one of you stepped foot in the XWF you have been nothing more than a practical joke. They are laughing at you guys not with you… The escapade of two nobodies was ehhh for a while until it wasn’t comical at ALL anymore. When the shenanigans got old and wore out, what happened ladies? You doubled the hell down hard… The world has turned their backs on your wild ass stories. Get a load of Mark Flynn and NKWC the buffoons of the XWF. But then again, you’ve both always been an object of ridicule, haven’t you? This match will be your final backslide, you two have floundered around with those Championships for long enough… It’s time Apex demotes your asses to where you belong. The preshow… The nose-dive has begun, and you will miss the mark slipping and falling into your very own massive pile of shit… Jim and I will ruin whatever pride you have left, and you might just go down swinging and we commend you for that… Going out like a man is honorable for sure… But you will hit rock bottom and we will run you aground during this match, this whole deal is going to turn out terribly as you meet with disaster first hand… After all the smoke settles and this is all said and done you Mark Flynn and you NKWC will be abandoned by the wrestling fans, deserted, and forgotten on an island all by yourselves. You have forsaken them and now Apex makes sure you cannot disappoint them anymore. After we demolish your world, you’ll be disregarded like the trash that you both are… There is just no other way for this to go, you have an overdrawn account, and we are the collection agency coming to collect our debt… You’ll collapse underneath the weight of the surmounting pressure that is known as Apex.”


- --- --- -.. .-.. . -....- --- --- --..-- -- --- - .... . .-. ..-. ..- -.-. -.- . .-. ... .-.-.-


“Bob-O, why not translate that last one for 'em...”



Robert nods in agreement…



” Toodle-oo, motherfuckers.”



The scene fades with Robert and Jim flipping double birds…


]]> =======Ω/\/\€Ģ@ €@£|)Ų$=======

































"One more 'gain, Bob-O."


"No Jim, we've gotta go."


"One more 'gain, Drewski."


Puts an arm around his Little's shoulders. "I have to bring Corney home, Jim, no."


"One more 'gain, Charlie."


"Dude, stop calling me charlie. You didn't get enough of that ass whooped already?"


"WHAT!? Control your boy Drewski."


"Cornelius that isn't polite. When you refer to Jim as 'dude' you're implying that he's a man. It's 2021, watch the pronouns."


"That's right ya little sh- HEY!!"



Oliver Main arrives with the transportation; coincidentally enough, the old APEX MEAT WAGON newly repaired after being poof/warped above- and dropped onto -Jim's house on Naples Island by Snoop Dogg's bodyguard at the time, XWF superstar Trax, lo oh so many years ago, still reading APEX FINE MEATS across the sides.


Ollie hollers from the driver's seat.



"Alright men. And Jim-"


"HEY!!"


"-your carriage has arrived."


Corney rubs his eyes and yawns, Drew tussles his hair and chuckles, adding warmly, "I think someone's had a long day of embarrassing the X-Treme Champ and is all tuckered out. You're about ready for a nap lil' guy."


Bitterly, darkening expression. "Yes... sleep well. Have sweet dreams 'a me tunnel-ratting aaaaaaaaaall the way over to your house and under your bed like that of your NVA kin. I'll show you exactly how America won the war, Charlie."


Thwacking Jim over the back of the head. "America lost."


"Yeah, idiot, even I know that." Deftly kicks Jim in the balls 'cause Jim is JUST short enough for a child to do so.


As Jim crumbles. "Corney, that wasn't nice. You shouldn't call people idiots. Even idiots like Jim."


Fetal position, painfully as Drew and Cornelius pile into the van. "I know where you live!"


Helping Jim to his feet. "Lay off Corney, Jim. You made that poor kid very happy today, can't you take solace in that, hoss?"


"Yeah, made 'im happy at my expense- LOOK what that little cheater did!!"



Jim turns to reveal a perfect circle burn through the ass of his shorts and boxers, as well as the two perfect half circles burned into the flesh of his ACTUAL ass that, while his otherwise sexy cheeks are pressed together, form the same perfect circle with, adorably enough, placement right over where his brown eye would be. Drew and Cornelius hi-five as Ollie erupts with laughter.



Stifling a whistle laugh. "How did that even happen? It's Laser Tag."


"How? How?? I'll TELL ya how, that little villain tampered with his laser gun in there!!"


"Did not!"


As Main holds him back. "Don't you LIE to me!! C'mere!!"



::BEEP-BEEEEP BEEP-BEEEEP BEEP-BEEEEP::



"The hell is that?"


Checking his pocket. "Just got a page bro."


"You have a freaking pager? I didn't even know those things still existed "


"Yeah man, since high school."


From the van. "What's a pager, Drew?"


"Pagers are from the Way Back, Corney."


"The 90s?"


"That's the one. They came before flip phones and smartphones. Pagers were most frequently utilized by blue collar men on call, pimps and every now and then seen worn as a sign of status in high school by douchebag posers like Jim."


Reading pager message out loud. "Nine one one. America needs your help. Call 555-5555 if you accept. This message will self destruct in seven thousand two hundred and twenty milliseconds. Perception is key. Live in the now." Looking to Main, a derisive snort. "Maaaaaaan, just some asshole prank pagin' me."



Jim slides the pager back onto the top of his right side short's pocket, clip on the outside.



"Welp, shall we?" Gestures to the van.


"After you Ji-."



::POW!!::



The pager explodes, blowing Jim's right side pocket to bits and splitting his shorts up the side and through the waistband. His shorts drop around his ankles. Jim's exposed ass is facing the street as passers by look on pointing.



As Drew, Corney and Ollie erupt with laughter. "Jesus H Christ! You're f'n britches just got blown off… This is hilarious, man now we've all seen your ass hole."


Eyes wide, mouth agape, grabbing Main by the sides of his shoulders. "Hoooooolyyy SHIT! Mainiac...do you know what this MEANS bro!?"


Shoving Jim back slightly with both eyebrows raised, shielding his eyes. "Uh… Pull. Those. Up. Now."


"It means that page was LEGIT! What was the number it said to call!?"


"You can't remember 555-5555? What's with this guy?"


"I DON'T know, Corney, I JUST don't know. Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing. Then I remember, there is nothing on this planet more entertaining than this group of wild people."


Already bending down and pulling his smartphone from his left shorts pocket still around his ankles then dialing......... ::click:: "Hello?? You sent me a nine one one page? Jimmy Caedus and Robert Main reporting for duty!"


"Hey, don't be pulling me into this with you, I don't want my shit exploding, we gotta go, Ji-."


"SHHHHHH!! ..Hello?"


Voice modulated like that of Jigsaw. "Good evening Mister Caedus, thank you for your quick response. I am a representative for the Central Intelligence Agency. This is an emergency, your country needs you. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, has been laid out in great detail and can be found in a secret dossier within a manilla envelope stuffed into a package hidden at your current location. Time is of the essence Mister Caedus. Do you accept?"


Looking to Main who is shaking his head.


" Damn it Jim…"


Already knowing what Jim is going to say, Robert starts jumping up and down like a crazy person waving his arms around…


"_Yes_ I do."


"Very well. I will be in touch with the directions to the package."


"Can't you tell me on the phone? We're "in touch" right _now_."


"............................No." ::click::


Lowering his phone. "Well THAT seems less than efficient."



::BVVVVVVVT::



Raising phone again. "AHA! A text message!"


Frowning in genuine curiosity. "...What's it say? I get a call and my phone explodes damaging my piss pump. We are going to have a major issue..."


Robert grabs his crotch...


"Says...go to the other side 'a the Laser Tag building. Talk about anticlimactic... Oh well, c'mon bro." Begins to walk to the opposite side of the building, stepping out of his shorts as he does so, lasered boxers and butt cheeks still exposed.



Robert facepalms then catches up.


As the two reach their destination a lengthy forty seconds later...



Looking around the immediate area...that being the alternate parking lot for Laser Tag ftr... "The fuck...I don't see anything, do you?"


Uncomfortably, "Just people staring at the forty one year old creep in his boxers. Keep this up and you won't be able to be with in one hundred feet of a school..." Sheepishly waves and smiles at someone off camera then shrugs before chidingly, "Go back and get your shorts, Jim, this is humiliating and weird..."


Eyeing the parked vehicles ? "Cars eh? Maybe the emergency plan in the secret dossier in the manilla folder in the package is in a car?" Mimes raising up his non-existent sleeve.


"Please don't start smashing windows, Jim."



::BVVVVVVVT::



"Oh, no, wait... Got another text. ..."Go to the back of the building," it says. Well, alrighty.."



Robert sighs before lighting a cigar with his father's Zippo then begrudgingly follows Jim. Every few feet Robert releases a cloud of smoke trying to calm his nerves from the madness unfolding.


An epic minute and a half later they arrive at the rear employee parking lot. Jim immediately spies the dumpster.



"Bam?? You in there?? I believe you have a package for me??"


"You're not serious."


Laughs. "Course not, Bob-O, I'm not a COMPLETE moron..."


"Not completely, no. Maybe Peter Vaughan Is in there. I mean the guys trash after all..."




::BVVVVVVVT::




Nudges Main. "Our benefactor. Lesse here... The message says, "take a right". Well that seems easy enough."


"The message says take a right?"


Jogging. "COME ON BOB-O, WE'RE AT THE HOME STRETCH, I CAN FEEL IT!!" Speeds up.



Jim comes sprinting around the corner of the back of the Laser Tag building beaming with the anticipation of impending victory.




::BVVVVVVVT::



Jim screeches to a halt, his palms sweating...the FINAL message for the location of his package, it HAD to be. He opens the text-



OLIVER MAIN

Get in the fucking van, double O ]



Face contorts in perplexion. "The fuck?"



Jim looks up into the faces of Drew, Corney and Ollie, all staring directly at him from the van ?



"...You assholes..."


As the van once more explodes with laughter, walking past Jim to the van. "Who says Oliver isn't Apex material?"



Jim retrieves his shorts and hikes them up, tying a knot with the thin material to keep them up around his hips, then joins Apex in the van.


The Meat Wagon is on the move...



"You guys don't mind if Jim and I cut a promo do you?"


"Go for it Bob. Earmuffs, Corney."


"Aww maaaaaaan."



Robert leans over the first back row seat, slips a laptop out from the pouch behind the driver's seat then sits back down in the rear, alongside Jim, and looks to the lens.



” Mark Flynn, whether Apex is wrestling the present-day rendition of your pipsqueak ass, or a past interpretation, or anything else in between… I’ve got a bit of intelligence for you…”


Robert’s lips leisurely lift from each corner of his mouth as he smiles, his smirk brought out a sense of mischief and innocent fun. He lifts his brows and flashes his middle finger then begins tapping Morse code.


[b] .--. ..- ... ... -.-- .- ... ... .-.. --- ... . .-. ...


"S'wrong boys? Thought Bob-O and I had our heads up our asses the whole time? Thought you were mind fuckin' us into confusion? Yeah, we know you been tryna spin a web 'round the whole multiversal, alternate counterpart, "which way did they go" gayroddery. You ain't lost us, we just ain't playin'.


Is it Flynn and NK that have the tag straps? Is it Kyodai and Ricky Goldhart aka the CanJap Connection?? Are the tag titles in the hands of alternate versions of Flynn and NK borne from a multiversal portal at the KFC YUM! CENTER after knocking out the Flynn and NK we all know and ignore to go on and take the Tag Titles offa TNGB allegedly on the 18th of October despite Warfare being on Wednesday the 19th and the show broadcast a day later on the 20th!?? Will it change the beatdown Bob-O and I'll be givin' to whomever gimps on down to the ring at Bad Medicine!??


...Shut the fuck up with your classless, convoluted dollar DVD bin sci-fi fellatin' horseshit. It's all the same to two proven titan veterans like The Omega and I. Adapting to our opponents is second nature in and outta the ring."


Robert folds his arms…


'' We don’t care who you guys are or who you are pretending to be, you guys can pull a Betsy Granger and travel your twat waffle asses through space and time shtick all you’d like. You can be T-1000’s, live in the matrix, have NKWC stick three dozen sparklers in his bung hole, light them and pretend he’s Kim Jong-un with nuclear weapons… Don’t matter to us, what’s likely is one or both of you pulling a rainbow-colored sex toy out of your assess Livin' La Vida Loca. Listen, no matter the scenario Apex wins convincingly… You can pull Tag Team Championships from an alternate timeline off Disney Plus or even the XWF multiverse. We don’t care, at the end of the day Apex will own them all and become the XWF multiverse Tag Team Champions of all… Shit what’s the word I’m looking for here…”


Jim leans in covering his mouth and whispers something into Robert’s ear…


” Right… Good thinking Jim… XWF Tag Team Champions of all reality?”


Robert scratches his head…


” Is that right?”


Jim shrugs as Drew shouts from the front seat…


" Dumb…"


Robert shakes his head frustrated with Drew's reply…


" Listen to this guy, huh? You worry about Corney..."


" Still dumb…"


” I'll admit it sounds a bit odd…"


Robert raises his index finger into the air.


" But we are sticking with it… We’re getting so convoluted with bullshit soon I won’t know which way is up… What’s dumbass in Morse code?”


Robert and Jim both start tapping around when Jim nudges Robert…


“Got it right here, Maniac my brotha.”


-.. ..- -- -... .- ... ...


"Thank God for the Boy Scouts of America…” 3-finger salutes into space.


A concerned look falls over Robert’s face…


".............what."


” Nothing… I’ve just heard about a lot of bad things that happened… Did anyone touch you? They have settlements for that shit now…”


"Did anyone touch me, of course someone touched me. Right here."



Oliver, cocking an eyebrow, glances in the rearview to see Jim pointing...at his heart. Damn.



"My Scout Master Dallas Sterling, he meant a whole helluva lot me. Taught me how to aim. Taught me how to shoot. Taught me how to suck-"



Robert gives Jim the side eye glance…



"...POISON! From a snakebite! Suck poison from a snakebite! ...He also taught me morse code, he was a grizzled 'Nam vet, a real inspiration for me."


” Anywho back to our opponents, Flynn NK please don’t go after the low hanging fruit on the tree and change your gender mid-way à la Bruce Blingsteen… The world is woke enough. Plus, it’s been done several times now once with gender fluid that the XWF sold in the X-shop… Getting off track again here, but it’s all true. No matter how you want to slice this thing we were constructed for this type of engagement. And you two dick-less pricks can try as hard as you'd like to cause mass confusion, but it’s not going to work… Leslie Chow want to fuck on us? Give us a break Hong Kong Phooey and wax on, then wax off Mark’s custard launcher, cum from sum old guy anyone? The only thing criminal about you NK is those freaking promo skills hoss. Abysmal is an understatement and from this point forward is going to be the secret word… Do everyone a favor NK and get your tiny Korean water chestnuts out of Mark’s mouth so he can get a grasp on reality for a second and I don't know speak. I’m starting to think all the forced head trauma might have long term effects on the man’s well-being… If two jackasses think for a second that Jim and I will fall for the same thing that mind fucked Dolly Waters? You're mistaken”


-.. ..- -- -... .- ... ... . ...



Jim is staring, jaw dropped, at Main.



"What?"


"You're on another LEVEL with this trash talk, bro! I am...I am SO fuckin' proud 'a you. Jesus CHRIST Flynn and NK fucked up. Tell 'em our first course of action Bob-O."


'' Our first course of action in this match is straightforward, the fundamental core of our entire game plan going into this Championship match is to outwork and outperform each of you no matter where this match takes us. So, here’s what we are going to do about the two negative guys trying to piss on our parade by dragging us down the rabbit hole. We could have hopped right into your little game and played right along with you. But that right there would give each of you unjust satisfaction, knowing that you got into our heads. Our preferred methodology for this entire situation is rather simplistic in nature. Ignore you two and stomp two mud holes in the center of that ring. You two seem to have this belief that Apex is putting on a gigantic front, that we’re not the men we claim to be… Take a long look around, we’ve bodied everyone who has ever drummed up enough intestinal fortitude to step up to the plate, splattering the ring with their brains. We paint Picasso’s with our enemy’s life fluid and have been doing that for years… We are about to take things to a level neither one of you have ever seen before and might never see again.”


--. .- -- . --- ...- . .-.



"Shit bro, these bitches don't know shit about next level, they couldn't even muster the testicular fortitude to come at us directly like men this whole damn time. I ain't seen a less virile, more sad and flaccid pair since Bourbon whipped his junk out in the bathroom in front 'a me at Anarchy Throwback. There's legit less semen in Flynn and NK's balls combined than there is demon jizz in Betsy Granger's mouth _right now_."


” As you two keep focusing on everything and everyone else Jim and I will keep grinding… And after the final bell sounds and you two are staring up at the arena lights, you’ll realize that you are no longer Tag Team Champions and have nothing else to talk about… We are going to take what is rightfully ours and banish the two of you from this division forever… After a match with us, your pissing blood and eating through a tube for weeks, all you’ve got to do is ask around… And if for any reason the two of you believe that we are not the ferocious, hard-hitting undomesticated savages we’ve become known for. You’re going to be in for one of the longest nights of your lives and that’s not an understatement. It’s just the unmitigated truth. It’s a promise and if you decide to keep that stance you’ll die on that imaginary hill you two are trying to defend. Now I don’t know about Jim, but I am a very headstrong man, immutable at times, but the one thing that Robert Main is not is artificial. I am every bit as merciless as I claim to be, Jim and I together though tearing a hole in this Tag Team division is something else altogether. We are the war machine of the XWF, the Genghis Khan’s of this generation of wrestling. Apex isn’t here just for keepsakes that we can throw over our shoulders, we’re here to put heads over our fireplace and take the hell over, period.”


-... .. - -.-. .... . ...


"Oh I love me some head, Bob-O. We gotta share 'em though; you can have NK, I'll take Mark Flynn. I wanna stick that dome 'a his INTO the fire and watch it burn and crisp then piss on it and see if it splits. SWEEEEEEET."


” We are the most unsympathetic sons of bitches to ever step foot inside the squared circle. In that ring Apex is and always will be as stubborn as a bull and just as uncontrollable out of the chute, once that bell sounds, we see only one color and that’s red. We strive to do the unimaginable all the while being bloodthirsty and inhumane. Ask anyone that we have steamrolled where their pride stood after we smashed them like a piñata. Better yet ask them where their guaranteed victory went, how they assured the entire world that they would slay the beast known as Apex… Out of all the broken promises we’ve heard over the years none of them amounted to anything other than another landslide victory, another masterstroke in a game we dominate… These men just like you Flynn and you NK were doing nothing more than blowing smoke up everyone's ass hoping someone would buy into the hype train… We’ve taken the dreams of an unfathomable number of supposed superstars and turned them into God damn nightmares, time and time again Apex has proven that our tried-and-true courses of action win… The naysayers and rationalists are always counterfactual at best. We serve steaming helpings of humble pie every-time we step foot inside the ring. Bad Medicine is no different than any other time where we were told we couldn’t, yet we did… They say that silence is golden. Duct tape though is silver…”


.- .--. . -..- .-- .. -. ...


"Well, until it's washed over in crimson 'a course, which you can safely assume alludes to the moment Bob-O and I remove those heads in the ring with all the subtlety of a swung broadsword."


” Over and over again they have all perished by the sword Apex wields. They witness the violence firsthand, and once they get a morsel, they back down and step off their high horse rather quickly. Hopping down off the soapbox and exiting that ivory tower with swiftness… Just take Chris Page, for example, he swore up and down he would end my career and prove to me and the world he was the better wrestler. How did that play out for the “Stoned One”? Packed those bags and bounced. He fell for the oldest trick in the book, I let him think he could defeat me… We are the very thing you could never become in the past Flynn and that’s a God, damn winner… Come Bad Medicine your painstaking challenge begins, the backbreaking lesson you’ll never forget etched inside of your minds forever until the day each of you die. Every single man or woman that Apex has ever faced has had an uphill battle… In the end Jim Caedus and Robert Main have only pilfered away a handful of matches over the years. Very few have ever had the bragging rights bestowed upon them, saying that they pinned either one of us. What have either one of you done over your countless years wrestling punch-drunk in the ring? As of recently, the current era, not one damn thing worth mentioning beyond snatching the titles off two tired hasbeens. This is the what have you done for me lately business and gentlemen you haven’t done much of anything besides having those titles dropped into your laps by two waste of space pussies.”


"Oh I'm sure they'll both have plenty to claim and wax on about once they 'hit us' with their impending final promo, a promo I'm positive they'll finally show some modicum 'a decency for the fans who came to see a FIGHT and do their best to insult us Bob-O.



::BVVVVVVVT::



"Weeeeeeeeell...speakin' 'a the two most overrated cocksuckers on the roster, Mark Flynn and NK finally uploaded, Bob. Let's watch...




::Time Jump a Wasted Thirty Minutes Later::



"Aaaaaaand done. And just as expected, an entire shoot they didn't have the balls to unleash earlier without fear of us rippin' their tongues out over it. Sucks for them, 'cause now we get to reply. DOH!


Reply to such stupendous arguments like tryna gloss over that loss to Betsy and Ly. They said exactly what we already cut 'em off at the pass with, Bob. Coppin' out with the limp-dick excuses over monsters bein' involved. I guess what was said before bears repeatin'...




Flynn and NK didn't do what was necessary to win. PERIOD.




"Arrogant jag-off motherfuckers, you're fuckin' pathetic. You couldn't beat Impossible Entity because THEY weren't burnin' out like the Bastards and quite simply, 'cause you ain't got what it takes. That's all there is to it. That's exactly why you waited to drop that blank shot of a shoot, you got nothin' 'a substance nor weight to say.


Like how bringin' up shit that happened without Jim Caedus as an active member of Apex is in any way relevant to facin' Robert Main and...oh shit, me, Jim Caedus, at Bad Medicine. ??? Thanks for makin' a point to point that out ya pinheaded pissant taint ticklin' lames. Oh, and, bringin' up James Raven- a temporary replacement for yours truly -and every other name you dropped to waste time talkin' shit on the exclusivity of Apex is asinine. The aforementioned temp addition 'a James aside, Legacy and Prophecy ain't Apex. Apex is Apex. The original founders, Drewski, Bob-O and Jim Caedus. Every off-shoot stable that came after was in an effort to compensate for the breakin' apart 'a the original triumvirate. Which, unluckily for you, has been reborn and alive and well since I made my return. Jim Caedus, the dickhead piece 'a shit you two'll be meetin' tomorrow night. Not Raven. Not Ned. Not Oliver whom, if you super smart sassy asshats paid attention, ain't a member of Apex either. Tossin' the rest 'a Main's fam in there was graspin' at straws to an embarrassing degree dumbfucks.


Is this really the best you got? Jesus jizz castin' Christ, I'm legit gettin' hard right now Bob-O. The most Flynn and NK can do is sling mud at topics that have absolutely no bearing on facin' US in the ring. They comment on the LONGEST TAG REIGN IN HISTORY ending with a loss to whom they call the WORST tag champs in history...nah, Mark, the worst tag champs in history are Flynn and NK. I'm SHOCKED there's been such heavy timestream themes in your nerdlinger product but you two never thought to peek at the end of our match at Bad Medicine. Flynn and NK lie defeated, vindicated as unworthy and as incapable as they ALREADY proved by winning the straps and then LOSING the very next match against a BRAND NEW TAG TEAM with less than THREE matches under their belts you definitive vagtastic twats. The ONE victory they have AS Tag Champs is against Salt n' fuckin' Peppa. Jobbers. So when Bob and I violently remove you from those pedastals you're currently jackin' eachother off on, you WILL go down as the greatest punchline in tag champ history...and FINALLY...you can sit back and take in the sound of raucous laughter from the majority. Finally the comic duo will have been funny enough to make 'em all laugh.


You're welcome, wimps.


I'll go ahead and eyeroll past your amazing "How to TT As A Pussy Who Doesn't Know How to TT 101, Chapter One" rundown of our contract info which is just, honestly, insanely disappointing you legit chose scrapin' the bottom 'a the barrel for FILLER MATERIAL IN LIEU OF NO REAL SOLID POINTS instead 'a usin' those oh so impressive IQs to think up somethin' with some kick to it.


And that right there is essentially EVERYTHING those two mentioned that's worth mentioning unless I mention the meat and potatoes 'a their tirade was further criticism of an Apex they ain't facin'. An Apex without me. Sure, they flung the weakest insults and snaps I've ever been subjected to- in an effort to, fuck, idk, tryta discredit me? -but there ain't no credibility in cuttin' on me. The worst and most embarrassin' shit about ME I did to myself. I readily admit it. I own it. And NONE of it has stopped me since my return. Just like it ain't gonna slow me OR Bob-O down in this match.


Mark, NK, any insignificant amount 'a respect I had for the two 'a you in dethroning the Bastards, however weakened and easily toppled they were at the time, vanished the moment your shoot ended. I can't believe I actually thought there was gonna be anything to worry about. You punk motherfuckers swing nothin' but the inaccurate and the irrelevant but you got the BALLS to in any way act so sure 'a yourselves?


I know Flynn's crazy but NK...buddy, if I'd known you were as incompetent as your partner there never woulda be a parachute applied to the NK Special. I woulda let ya die. Everything Rob and I have said during this hype cycle has now been made concrete.


You're cowards.


You're fluke champions.


And you ain't got anywhere near what it would take to stop us with the strategies you rely on.


The thing is...I still don't think you two understand just how telling those strategies are for ring competency. See, hookers, when y'become infamous for cheating, which you have, guys like Bob and I walk into the match AND the hype cycle expectin' shady shit and lack 'a spine from our opponents. You didn't disappoint. You did exactly what we expected you to do, as ludicrous as that may sound given the complex nature of all the crap you been uploadin', but simply put, it's bitch made bullshit and we backhand bullshit makin' bitches with ease. You've shown time and again the two 'a you rely on cowardice and rule breakin'/"bending" (die, Mark) to wage war. Fuck that. This is a meteoric rise and we refuse to be the ones to fall ... ain't no nutless trickery gonna stop Apex. We got two fists fulla dynamite and middle fingers and no more patience for high fives."


" Number nine's better…"


" Why nine?"


" Because Jim, a pussy has nine lives…"


"And those pussies are gonna burn through all 9 after pullin' pussyfootin' fucktardery 'round us."


" These two clowns are attacking the greatest wrestlers on this planet with plastic guns… We were built for this and cannot get back one drop of the blood we have spilt for this moment. It’s bothersome, isn’t it? Knowing you are walking into a match with two men that are no piece of cake. Knowing we will not lay down for you and we will throw fists until our last breaths leaves our bodies. We here in Apex don’t sell the world snake oil, we’re not living cheats, or breed deception and dishonesty. Our records prove otherwise, we are in the history books for a reason. We are the titans in this game, walking icons… We do what we say, we speak the truth and conquer all our matches. NK, Flynn you two are a misrepresentation of what wrestling should be, two double-dealing snakes in the grass too worried about their next reality altering adventure to give two shits about the fans that pay to see a great show put on by the greatest wrestlers on God’s green Earth… You fuckers are impostors and swindlers hoodwinking the world one terrible promo at a time. The time for Tag Team treachery comes to an end, no more swindling the fans out of their hard-earned dollars. The final act is playing on your reign, and Apex, will be pulling the final curtain on the shit show you've called a Tag Team wrestling… You two counterfeit bastards will no longer run their dick suckers about things they know nothing about. The facts are just that, the facts, the proof is in the pudding when it comes to who we are and what we are capable of… We are just more enhanced, the superior men in and out of the ring. You two, on the other hand, go through the same hellish cycle every month, you try to get on the mend or the road to winning ways. And just when you think you’re out of the woods and have a victory in the palm of your hands… You relapse.”


"Well that's because Mark Flynn and NK are compelled to the cunt ways 'a the force, Bob-O. Once a cunt, always a cunt. They ain't ever gonna have the strength or the self confidence to do it the honorable way. They ain't ever gonna be the type of opponents to stand face to face with two men the likes a' The Omega Mainiac and Killer Caedus then have their asses handed to 'em publicly. They're gonna lie, they're gonna cheat, they're gonna tryta screw their way to victory then, again, have their asses handed to 'em publicly. Which I'm guessin' feels a whole helluva better when you can just copout with excuses as opposed to takin' and admittin' to receiving an ass gapin' from Apex with pride."


” Do you know what the main ingredient to victory is, girls? Discipline… Being a Champion is one monumental battle of tug of war and you cannot win that fight by pushing that rope. You’ve got to pull that son of a bitch… This match is no different than any other circumstance that Jim or I have ever faced before. We’ve each faced our own demons in that ring, walked out into the center and stared that monster in the eyes and fought tooth and nail for what we believed was right. Just like that rope, we are going to pull ourselves through this match, and with each second that passes we will gain confidence. Each blow will become less painful, as each of you look us in the eyes you will come to the realization that Apex is outworking the crowd. I don’t want this to come as a surprise, but we are going to be triumphant in this match as we battle and fight using every single tool necessary to crush you two into smithereens… We are going to move like generals in that ring with a swiftness never seen before as we outthink and outmaneuver our enemy. Our goal isn’t getting the rock to the top of the mountain like everyone else. Our goal is pushing that rock, because pushing that rock pushes each member of this brotherhood. It makes us tougher, makes us harder than anyone else walking around the XWF mentally and physically… This goal gives us much more than we could ever give it in return. People like us want to struggle and grind while we dig in and push. We don’t want it to end, because the very second we get that rock to the top of that mountain, and it stayed there. One of us would roll it back down and we'd all start grinding as a unit all over again.“


"Hell, grinding is a concept Flynn and NK are unfamiliar with. Everything they do in battle whether physical or war of words is the path 'a least resistance and somehow they believe that kinda titty baby buttfuckery is gonna keep 'em on top since it got 'em there against TNGB in the first place; albeit literally the moment the Bastards fizzled the fuck out.

Why the concept of 'that dickless shit ain't enough' didn't occur to 'em the moment two chicks who couldn't hold a team together for two months caught a win over 'em on the Shove It is beyond me. I'd say the brass took notice of their inability, however, and that whole feedin' Flynn and NK enhancement talent leadin' into this hype cycle was a decision more than likely made in the interest of ensuring it's APEX who removes the straps from those place-holdin' hacks as opposed to a team they can't trust to shine or stick around for any longer than a cup 'a coffee and a handjob."


” Since either one of you stepped foot in the XWF you have been nothing more than a practical joke. They are laughing at you guys not with you… The escapade of two nobodies was ehhh for a while until it wasn’t comical at ALL anymore. When the shenanigans got old and wore out, what happened ladies? You doubled the hell down hard… The world has turned their backs on your wild ass stories. Get a load of Mark Flynn and NKWC the buffoons of the XWF. But then again, you’ve both always been an object of ridicule, haven’t you? This match will be your final backslide, you two have floundered around with those Championships for long enough… It’s time Apex demotes your asses to where you belong. The preshow… The nose-dive has begun, and you will miss the mark slipping and falling into your very own massive pile of shit… Jim and I will ruin whatever pride you have left, and you might just go down swinging and we commend you for that… Going out like a man is honorable for sure… But you will hit rock bottom and we will run you aground during this match, this whole deal is going to turn out terribly as you meet with disaster first hand… After all the smoke settles and this is all said and done you Mark Flynn and you NKWC will be abandoned by the wrestling fans, deserted, and forgotten on an island all by yourselves. You have forsaken them and now Apex makes sure you cannot disappoint them anymore. After we demolish your world, you’ll be disregarded like the trash that you both are… There is just no other way for this to go, you have an overdrawn account, and we are the collection agency coming to collect our debt… You’ll collapse underneath the weight of the surmounting pressure that is known as Apex.”


- --- --- -.. .-.. . -....- --- --- --..-- -- --- - .... . .-. ..-. ..- -.-. -.- . .-. ... .-.-.-


“Bob-O, why not translate that last one for 'em...”



Robert nods in agreement…



” Toodle-oo, motherfuckers.”



The scene fades with Robert and Jim flipping double birds…


]]> <![CDATA[Until Nothing Is In My Way]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42318 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 22:39:25 -0800 Lycana]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42318 OOC: This takes place after events in Marf's rp found HERE


My name painted in bloodstain
Making war with anything
Standing up in my way
With a rock from the mud to the brain
I'll be making your bed in the grave

_____________________________________________________________________________

She didn’t want to go back inside.

She stood, staring at her own home, except it didn’t even feel like it should. What should be a comfort to her, sent a tremor through her body. The aura had changed. It was forever tainted with the events that had occurred that morning. She could never have foretold it. She shudders as the grisly images storm their way through her mind's eye once more.

Damien’s face.

It hadn't even been a face anymore.

It had been a caved in bowl, filled with stringy meat.

Her stomach lurches dangerously, threatening to erupt. Not that there was anything in it. She had not even thought about food after those few sips of coffee she had with Marf.

Marf.

She didn’t know who that person was who had appeared in her kitchen, but it wasn’t Marf. Not her Marf. That person had been a stranger to her, one she had never seen before, even after all their time together. Even after all of the things they had done with one another. She had seen the sadness in his eyes, the sorrow, tinged with something she couldn’t identify before his mouth had crashed over hers. It had not been just a normal kiss though. She could almost taste the regret and pain. It was more like a goodbye, and it had confused her, making her head whirl. And then he had pulled away, and morphed right before her very eyes.

The ever so familiar face, and then the mask slid over his features, obscuring the one she had known and loved.

Then he had...

Her body gives a violent quake.

Lycana had seen a lot of death in her life, even participated in some. She had seen friends die, and come across their lifeless corpses. She had been so damn young when her sister and parents were murder, and those images were forever ingrained into her brain... but there was something, sickeningly special, and not in a good way, about watching someone you thought you knew better than anyone stomp the skull in of your friend in front of you.

That helpless feeling of shock, rooting you to the spot. Frozen and unable to to lift a finger in aid.

Could she have stopped his rage monster this time? She always had. She had a muzzle on it, and all it took was her presence, but that had not been enough this time. A word, a touch... she had failed to even try. All she could do was stand there. Stand there like a fucking statue. A useless, block of fucking ice... and Damien had suffered the price.

Guilt.

“This is my fault...”

“Don’t you dare Ly!”

Lycana lifts watery eyes to meet the blazing ones of Arcana.

“This is fucking Marf’s fault! Not yours!”

“But if I...”

“Shut the fuck up! What if he would have hurt you too?”

“He would never...”

“Can you say that? Did you think he would do this?!”

Lycana subsides, a tear spilling over to trickle down her cheek as she turns her face back to the façade of her house, the windows like dark, dead eyes in its face. She shivers. She wanted to believe that he would never hurt her. Their bond was like nothing she had ever experienced. Their relationship. Their love. It wasn’t enough to stop this, so who was she to say anything? But deep down, her entire being rebelled at the notion, her soul screaming its denials even as her brain waved the image of Damien’s brain splattered across her kitchen as evidence.

“Do you think he is still in there?”

“I don’t know Kaiya.”

“If he is, I’m fucking tell you, that I am going to incinerate his ass. No, that’s too damn fast. I’m going to take fucking pieces off of him, one by one with fireballs. Then I'm going to burn his eyeballs out of his face. And THEN...”

Lycana fades out again as Arcana rages on. She could almost see the smoke pouring out of the pyromancers ears, no pun intended. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if Marf was still in her house. She had not even thought about that when Arcana had poofed them back. She had not even wanted to come back, but Arc had wanted to see for herself.

She had run from Marf, only thinking to get away from the scene, to wipe that vision from her eyes and had failed. She had hurtled up the stairs and into their bedroom, locking the door like he couldn’t have just ripped it from its hinges if he wanted to. Then, she had called Arcana, not knowing where else to turn. Damien had been Ly’s friend, but he had been Arcana’s closest, her best friend, them growing up together in the orphanage. She had found herself whisked away to California on a red cloud of magic, faced with a hysterical woman, as she herself had fallen into hysterics.

Jimmy had loved it.

Once they had both calmed enough for Lycana to spit the story out, and then had themselves a good cry again, anger had taken over Arcana, and she demanded they go back.

So here they were.

“Let’s go Tav. We can’t leave Damien in there.”

She sucks in a deep breath and merely nods, both stepping forward in unison to cross the lawn, moving up the steps to the front door. Her breathing halted, Lycana reaches out and puts her hand on the doorknob. After a moment's hesitation, she turns in and pushes the door open, bracing herself for...

Nothing.

The house stands cold and silent.

They step in and Lycana watches as Arcana closes the door, feeling a weird sensation of being boxed in. They move deeper into the living room, eyes scanning everything, but all is still. The air is heavy around them, laden with the horrors that had happened hours before. It was as if the evil of the action, had permeated the very bones of the house, and it was slowly oozing from the walls.

“Marf?” she calls out, hoping to not hear an answering word or footstep. None is forthcoming. “Wait here.”

It would be better if it was just her, and he didn’t see Arcana, if he was here. She moves through the house, climbing the stairs and poking her head in room by room. Nothing is disturbed or out of place. As she approaches the door to the master bedroom, she can see that it is off kilter. No, not only off kilter, most of it splintered into pieces. Her steps slow, and she looks beyond the broken door, into the room beyond.

It was empty.

She carefully steps over the rubble, taking a moment to glance into the bathroom before walking towards the bed, where only a single thing was different from how she had left it.

A frame lay on the bed.

In it, a picture of them.

She looks at it for a long moment, wondering what he had been thinking when he picked it up. Wondering if he knew that he had destroyed what they had. Wondering if he knew that within a few short moments, he had destroyed everything she held dear, setting her lost and adrift.

But it was her fault, when you got to the root of it.

Maybe if she had not been such a snarky bitch.

Maybe if she had just reached out to him after their fight.

Maybe if she didn’t have the toxic tendency to shut down when she didn’t know what to do or say.

Maybe if she had just tried harder to mend the rough and torn patches they had been going through.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

She would never know now. Never have those what if answers. She had done none of it, and it was Damien who paid the price. His blood was on her hands. It should have been her. It should be her on that cold floor downstairs, dead with her face caved it. She had tempted Death enough, who was she to cheat it once more, and get someone else hurt in the process? She looks one last time at the picture, then sets it on the table, face down before making her way back down the stairs where Arcana stood, just beyond the kitchen doorway.

“You don’t want to see this Kai... fuck, I don’t want to see this again.”

“I have to Tav. I have to see if I can fix this.”

“I think this might even be beyond you... Do they even work on...” she chokes on the word. “Dead... people?”

“I... I don’t know.”

Lycana goes first, the sight of the gore decorating the cabinets and walls making her stomach flip once more. She hears the sharp inhalation next to her, the low keening noise of denial, the anger flipping to horror at the sight. The girl’s fall into each other's arms, the tears flowing freely as they stood surrounded by the macabre scene.

“How could he?” Arcana drops to her knees in the puddle of now clotted blood that had spread into a pool around Damien’s body.

“I don’t know, it wasn’t even him. I...” her voice quivers as she takes her place by Arcana’s side. “I warned you.”

“I didn’t expect...” she swallows a sob, but brings her hands up, moving them in intricate motions. The familiar gold trails begin, leaving glittering patterns in the air as she performs her healing magic over Damien.

Nothing.

She tries again, her movements jerky. And then again, desperation in every flick of her hand.

“It’s no use.” Lycana whispers.

“No.” Arcana denies. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

For a long time, there is nothing but the sound of harsh breathing, sniffles, and crying, then Arcana’s head snaps around to Ly. “The bell... the BELL! You can bring him back.”

“Kaiya, he doesn’t even... have a brain. He wouldn’t, I don’t even think he’d...”

“I’ll heal him.” Arcana grips Ly’s shoulders, her eyes wide and wild. “As you bring him back to life, I’ll heal him. We can work together. We can fix this.”

“I... I can’t... I...”

“You can! You have before... we have to try, we have to. We...”

“I CAN’T KAI!”

Arcana stares at her, still holding her grip. “Why not?”

“I don’t even know who I am anymore Kaiya. After everything I saw...”

She hesitates.

“You might as well tell me.”

“But...”

Arcana looks at Damien.

“He’s not going anywhere.” she replies, drily.

Lycana didn’t know if she should laugh, or cry again. Some sort of strange, strangled moan comes out instead as she starts her story, telling Arcana everything she had experienced while under the influence of the Gorgon elixir that she had created. From the moment she had swallowed it...

“You’re fucking stupid, do you know that?”

“Heard that a lot lately.”

… to when Marf had shaken her awake, and carried her home where she had slept for three days straight, waking up this morning and falling directly into the current events.

“I don’t know who I am. Who the real Tavora is. I always thought that Cate was the one who controlled me being a shapeshifter, I thought it was something I had to earn from her and instead, it was in my DNA all along.”

Why had Hecate rescued her as a child when she was thrown in to get poked and prodded after she had been blamed for the murder of her family? Why had she been plucked from there, protected from retribution from killing her tormentor, raised up just outside the coven, but not being told anything about it until she hit a certain age? An age old enough to start learning under her tutelage? Had she known? Had she seen what Lycana really was and decided to try and keep her for herself, to control her like Jonah wanted to control Tavya?

“My line was created, literally created, to be an army for the Left Hand. A weapon. A fucking living, breathing weapon. I was MADE for that. Born and bred, through generations to be the very fucking thing I was. She sold her fucking soul to save her people, and enslaved them instead. I don’t even know how he controlled it, how he knew... where he got the virus in the first place. I wish I knew what happened through the years...”

Maybe this gift really was a curse. Her whole reason for being what she was, rested on the shoulders of the Left Hand. An entire race, made to be used as pawns to do whatever they were told to, under the guise of power. Killing and slaughtering at will, so that the group could advance with their plans with little to no resistance when faced with the jaws of death. She was made to be a killer. An assassin. A weapon. At one point, that might have made her happy. Now? Now she was questioning everything she ever was, or could be.

“So, what was me and what wasn’t this whole time? Is this what brought the Left Hand to me? It was nothing about what they saw in me, except my fucking DNA? Was the Baphomet really just blowing smoke up my ass? Did they hunt me down because of WHAT I was? Is that why I felt so compelled to join, because I had to? Not that I wanted to? Is that why Betsy and I started as enemies? She killed her sister... ending the peace that Betsy and I saw created together. Is that the strange draw we have always had? Who the fuck am I? What was me, and what is just in my goddamn genetics, forcing my hand? What the fuck am I?”

Had she even made any of those choices on her own? Was she who she was, simply because of the genetics that make her a lycanthrope? Each and every decision she had made, was now called into question. Was it her, or was it the wolf? Was she really rid of the Left Hand? Or would they be coming to her because she had turned her back on what her ancestor had pledged so long ago? She was no longer the tool, the walking weapon for the organization. Would they let that slide? Could she even be anything else? Or would she fall right back into line, her breeding taking over and bending her to its will? She had refused John Caedus, and she now knew he had a much deeper involvement... but would she be able to forever? Would he somehow, take control over her and revert her back to what Tavya was? Or would he simply kill her because of her insubordination?

“I don’t know what to do with myself anymore Kai. How can I just go on like I don’t know any of this? I don’t even feel like I should change to the wolf, like I need to keep the beast locked up. I don’t feel like myself. And I... don’t know if I should be doing the magic, and tempting fate again...”

She looks from one friend to the other, one living and one dead.

“... even to bring him back.”

“That’s... a lot of questions and a lot to absorb.” Arcana settles back on her heels with a sigh. “I don’t even have the answers for you. Do you feel like you’d go back to the Left Hand if they came for you? I mean, you’ve been away this long without any ties to them...”

“Baph’s body.” Lycana gives a short laugh, the realization dawning. “Maybe that’s why I was so damn compelled to keep it, to find it, to protect it and keep him alive. I was fucking programmed to. So maybe I would go back...”

“I don’t know what to say, except that I think you can pick your own path right now. I know you have a lot going on right now, but... look at Damien. He needs us.”

Like he needed her to do everything that she had not. Like he needed her to fix things with Marf instead of them sniping at one another. Guilt slams through Lycana’s body.

“He needs us to try. And maybe, maybe it won’t work and it would have been all for nothing but...”

Lycana lifts stormy gray eyes to meet Arcana’s hopeful amber ones.

“... what if?”

What if.

What if she had done things differently?

What if she was nothing but a puppet?

What if she could alter the future?

What if she could change the Universe?

What if she could bring Damien back?

What if?

What if it did work, and she could start making amends? What if it didn’t, and she felt even worse because she failed him a second time in a row, and Arcana on top of it? What if her magic was somehow connected to something out of her control and just programmed into her like a piece of machinery? What if Alias was right, and she was just existing to be something to someone else?

What was she?

Who was she?

Who the fuck, was Lycana?

But she finds her mouth opening, an agreement coming out. “Okay. Let’s try. Reika is at her friend's house still, I’m sure her mother wouldn’t mind if she stayed another night.”

And thank fuck for that.

Lycana dreaded telling Reika that Marf was gone... because the reality was, she couldn’t let him back home, not after what had happened. It was all over between them, and Reika was not likely to be able to understand why her adored Marfy couldn’t come help tuck her in at night. Read her a story. Be the father that he was to her.

A sob lodges heavy in her chest.

How could someone so gentle with her, someone who had stepped into the role of a parent without a single blink, do this?

At least now, for this moment Reika was with her friend Adalynn, in the wolf village. They were close to the same age, and played well together. Addy was on the autism spectrum, and the two girls had formed a connection, which pleased both Lycana and the girl's mother. Let it be a time of peace and happiness for Reika, before Lycana had to break her heart about Marf.

And possibly about Damien too, if she were to fail.

Failure.

She couldn’t fail.

She couldn’t allow it.

She was going to change the course of the Universe, at least one more time.

A red glow envelops them all.

And then they are gone.

_____________________________________________________________________________



“Where to start, where to start...

And where to end?

Seems like this rollercoaster of a prematch event is finally coming to a close, and I don’t know about you, but I am damn tired of words.

Yep, the long-winded bitch is over all this monologuing.

Can I just say, it was interesting, all this back and forth? I still stand by everything I said, and I have plenty more to go, but I wanted to preface this with that. While I don’t think we necessarily cleared the air between us, perhaps we even obscured things even more, it was damn more than we had going on back at Leap of Faith. I tried back then though, trying to piece together for you how I felt and what I did and why, and you just refused to see beyond the red haze of your rage. This time though? I think you are just not seeing beyond your own damn stubbornness.

Or maybe it is the simple fact that YOU can’t see ME for who I am now compared to then, while insisting I do the same for you.

Look Alias, I get that it's easy to look past me when you are holding the Universe in your hands, but it’s the ones you least expect that will come in and snatch something from you. You say that you remember what happened back in May, that you were in a different mindset back then, and yeah you were... But that doesn’t erase the threat I was to you then, the one you didn’t see coming.

And the one I am now.

The one you still don’t see coming.

I know you said that you aren't looking past me. Verbatim. I know you did; I have been paying attention and listening after all, despite what you may thing. It is one of the things you claimed that you were not doing.

But it is everything else that proves that statement wrong.

You have focused on aspects of me that I have never denied. You have focused on the fact that you are different. You have focused on that you have been undefeated since me. You have focused on that fact that you have the Universe and that makes you somehow untouchable.

Alias, many others have held it before you... You can hold it as tight as you wish, it doesn’t stop someone with the right amount of determination and drive. It happens to all, and it happens to the best.

They fall.

Yet you don’t think that I am going to be the One, simply because... I don’t have a blowtorch, or a way to light you on fire. Yeah, I was being a bit of a twat here, I understood what you meant. But I also have been telling you that I will do what it takes, anything at all... and that even completing the damn job... with my two bare hands.

I can assure you Alias... I am very much capable of being that One for you again, and I fully plan on it.

I don’t have anything to hold me back.

I called the relationship we share complicated, painted us as possibly allies, but that is off the table when we step in the ring together, at least while we are not standing side by side. In that ring, you are not my friend, not my ally, not anything other than someone that I need to get through.

But you have missed one very important detail.

The singular thing, but the biggest that has changed right here, right now with you as opposed to about everybody else that I have faced.

Something that I have always said to them, and even to you back in our other two matches, something that I have always held to that I purposely did a one eighty with here.

I come to fight. I live for it. I enjoy every moment of my time in that ring. Last time you and I went toe to toe, I told you that I didn’t care what happened, that I was coming to do battle and take whatever chance came my way. That all I cared about doing, was surviving and making you hurt right along with it. Nothing else mattered to me. It’s what I do, but I’m not doing that this time. I am not only coming to make you hurt or enjoy the fight.

I want to beat you.

I am coming to win this one.

Different.

I am walking into this match with a completely different focus that I ever have before. I don’t care about beating you up or causing you pain. Not this time. This time, my focus is on what I want, and that is to win. This one matters to me.

This is what I have been trying to tell you, to have you open your eyes and see that while you aren't the same Alias from months ago, neither am I the same Lycana.

And when I tell you I mean I will do anything... I mean that.

I did before.

But that Lycana of old? She set you on fire, and then left you to burn. She didn’t care about what happened to you. This new one? She will settle down to watch you cremate and make sure that the job is completely done. And then light you up and kill you again, just to make doubly sure that you are gone.

Metaphorically speaking of course, there will be no fire.

But there will be me.

And I am all the weapon and fire I need... even if it comes down to that very thing you seem to think I might lack the courage to do.

I might not be the same devious minx that I was when I first arrived, but I am infinitely more dangerous right now to you. Morals? I have them as pertaining to the rules we set forth, by my suggestion, but when it comes to just how far I would go to end this thing? There are no limits. You want it even blunter? Even if I have to fucking kill you with my own bare hands.

I told you Alias, out of that ring... I like you. Inside, if we aren't teaming or standing for something together? You are nothing to me.

It’s pretty easy to sit on the top of your mountain and look down and gloat at all the ones who try to make this climb.

After all, you have the Universe and the track record. You have almost everything you want right now, except for what I am going to push you into apparently.

It's easy to scorn me, when I don’t carry quite the merits you do.

I suppose though, if we look into things a little further, everything starts to shift just a little. See, I know there is a large number of losses on my record sheet. I don’t try to play it off, I accept them. But if you want to go in deeper. You used this very thing against Page...

Oh nooooo... Ly went back and watched me say things! Oh dear! Let me be sarcastic about it like it hasn’t come around to bite me in the ass already!

Ahem.

Anyway. Page tried to come at you that you both lost to me, and what did you reply back? That the one thing he cannot claim, is that Lycana never pinned him, because I never pinned you.

Truth... and we can say you have also never pinned me, despite claiming a win as well. Fact of the matter is, not many people have. For all the losses sitting in my records, compare that to the actual number of times that I was pinned, and you are going to see a real difference there. I just don’t bother to make a big deal out of it, a win a win, a loss a loss. Pin or not.

So yeah, you still have the better record while you sit up on high even if you take that into account, but it didn’t matter at Leap, and it's not going to matter now. So, you enjoy taking your easy pot shots up there.

It’s going to be even easier to see that you made a grave error in misjudging me when you go tumbling down the other side of that mountain.

Oh, and before anyone gasps and clutches their pearls that I would do such a thing to Marf... Go ahead and ask him about it. The man cared less about win loss records than I ever could claim. It never fazed him. That was the beauty in the Dissentients, we never really gave a shit and could say what we wanted about one another.

Also... he killed my friend. I'd say we aren't on the best terms right now.

You know, the game you tried to play with my reasonings with instant gratification, it was decent. I’ll give you that. But you glossed over the damn compliment in there. Again. What do you have with taking them Alias? I mean, for someone who mentioned that things have turned sour, you sure are turning a blind eye to all the praise I'm lavishing your way.

Couldn’t be on purpose, could it?

Nah. Not you!

I’ve been saying this entire time, that everything that makes you, you is why I picked you, over everybody else. You wanted to know why and I gave you a multitude of reasonings, that you decided to dissect... so I’m not the only one in science class over here. You couldn’t just accept it.

I tell you that you are standing at the top of the company.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I tell you that you being undefeated since me is impressive.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I tell you that you are the one with the target, because you are the one to beat.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I tell you that I plan to beat you because it would make my prior win, definitive.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I’m different!

Umm alright Alias. I acknowledged that a million times. AS AM I. What else would you like me to say?

Oh, sorry... I notice that you are now carrying the Universe, are definitely different, and are the person to beat around the company... so let's have a nice fight, but leading up to it all I’m going to do is talk about how much I’m going to lose this match instead of telling you the whys of how I am different too.

Sure. Silly me. At least I can keep that in mind for the future, right?

Oh, but wait, I said the dynamics had not changed in the way you speak of. But of course, you are going to try and say I agree with you on everything, so that I'm some sort of dumbass who has no idea what I'm talking about.

As I have to explain everything out to you.

Like you are the dumbass.

Funny thing, that.

What did I say after that Alias?

I named all the ways in which the dynamic had changed. Yours. Mine. Ours. You know, all the things you’re over there gloating that I agreed with you on this whole time...

Literally- there it is!- every point that you said, I named right there on the microphone. Every. Single. One. So, what did Lycana mean by saying they had not changed in the way you meant? Wait for it... wait for it...

Not like I haven't already said this to you.

But I'm the one not paying attention.

So, what the fuck do I know?

It meant exactly what the fuck I said while holding the fucking mic in my hand. I am different as well, but the ways that mattered that are important to our match are still present and accounted for in me, they HAVE NOT changed. I said this before Alias. I mentioned all the shit has that has stayed the same with me. “Never give up” ring a bell? Perhaps “do whatever it takes”? Hello? It was one of the very first things we talked about.

Or I talked.

You didn’t even listen.

I also said it wasn’t enough that you should count me out, but you know my feelings with how you are handling that one, already.

If you were paying attention that is.

Or maybe you are right, and I’m the one who doesn’t know what's going on.

Since I missed the part where I claimed to never use people’s words. Never mind that I just told you that I will, especially when they contradict one another. Never mind that I have been blabbering on and on about doing whatever it takes. Never mind that I never said that nobody does it. But okay, would me owning up to it, in a more effusive manner make you feel better?

Hey Alias, I used your words.

To talk to you.

About... your words.

And how they don’t fucking match up.

There.

I don’t have to pretend that I am anything more than I am. I’ve been the same fucking ray of sunshine in my approach to these promos for quite some time now. It’s nothing new that I have unleashed special for you. It’s not copying a play from anyone else’s book. It’s pure honesty, and how I view things. I go back and watch the tapes. I study. I learn. I find things that just don’t make sense and point them out. I’ve been doing it months Alias, what makes you cry mimicry?

Is it because I said I was going to approach you differently than the rest had?

I mean I did.

The others came at you with how you won the Universe.

I didn’t care.

The others came at you trying to lay shit at your door that made no sense.

I mocked them.

The others tried to talk you down, and make you out to be a nothing who got lucky.

I called them stupid.

I will admit to being a bit of a shit when I asked you about being nervous. But hey, we are having fun right? You can stand a little bit of ribbing coming your way too, surely? I mean, it's just that when you tend to start getting... flustered, shall we say, is that a better word? You start going here and there and all over the place. Everything changes with how you approach things. You are very readable that way Alias. That’s not a dig at you, just a mere observation. Whenever someone gets just a little too close to knowing you, you bolt. Not literally, heh... but you try to lead them on a merry chase, wanting them to bite at anything else other than the subject they had landed on.

See, honesty. Just like I approach everyone else. Despite you being... well, you. I said I was going to approach you differently than they had, not differently than I had anyone else.

But you go on and pirouette with everything.

Like I said you do but you think I said I wouldn’t do but I never said I wouldn’t do it even though Im not doing what you think it is I'm doing.

There was a little nudge in there, in case you missed it.

So where do we go from here?

You are pretty set that I don’t see you, in all your blazing glory and that I have no idea what I’m in for when I step in that ring.

Do you?

You think you do.

But you have never faced a Lycana that is focused on winning, that she is willing and able to do anything it takes to get it. Nobody has. Shit, I’m not even sure what is going to happen in that ring if I’m being honest with you. I’ve been in the ring with a version of you, that I acknowledged as feral. I was careful then, defensive, having to strike when and where I could. I can imagine that you will now be placing yourself in the more careful category, which means my watchful eye? Is going to have to pick up on even the most minute details. My ring awareness, had better be on point like it was last time. Do I know if I’m going to be the aggressor? No. Will I remain on the defense and dart in for the jugular when I see an opening? I have no fucking clue. Neither do you... because you haven’t been in the ring with this version of me.

And if we really want to get down and dirty, I don’t even fucking know if you were aware enough to learn the other one either.

And that one beat you.

And neither of us knows where the Universe is going to take us.

In anything.

Not in life, in our career, or even where it is going to take us tomorrow.

We could end up in Tahiti throwing cutlery at one another in a fancy resort. Maybe we will end up battling it out on a miniature iceberg floating somewhere by the South Pole. Maybe we can prance among the blue-footed boobies in the Galapagos.

Neither of us knows a damn thing about what is going to happen when we take this ride. And that includes who is going to win. You can assure me all you want, you can try and beat me over the head with all the words you want...and fuck we have used a lot of words... to tell me how you are better and different and that makes all the... well, difference.

But it doesn’t matter Alias... because it is like I have been saying all along.

What if.

What if it isn’t what you can take from the Universe, but what it gifts you?

What if the Universe decides it is time for you to go on a new journey without it?

What if the Universe decides that someone else is in need of it?

What if the Universe changes hands?

What if this Lycana, can pull off the upset and win... like the one of old?

There are no guarantees Alias, no matter how much you think there is for you. You were just as confident going into the last one, I don’t have to keep telling you how that turned out. There is just as good of a chance of this one going the same way.

Because we are both different.

Something that we agree on.

But all the damn ways we don’t.

Which I guess is the very epitome of the word, huh?

We can go back and forth forever with this, I think. And maybe we will, who the hell knows. What are the odds of us getting back in the ring together in the future? The great debate about differences can start anew much to the joy of everyone!

Doesn’t that sound like fun?

It actually does, to me.

Because then, we may very well be on opposite sides of the screen here, with you trying to figure out where the Universe wanted you to go, from its spot in my hands. Hey, what if it wanted you to lose to me, to learn humility and find yourself and then come back for a rematch to learn some more, since I am the one you learn so much from?

Does that include listening and learning from these promos too, because I’m gonna have to fail you on that.

Universe is gonna be pretty mad at you if that’s the case.

Of course, you can always be a late bloomer and snag ahold of what I was saying, then come back around and act like its new and fresh, like you did this time by saying I’m who made you who you are today... like I told you I did at Leap of Faith, but you said I didn’t. Ha!

Look at me Alias. I’m the one you had to lose to, to get to where you are.

But I’m just a stepping stone for you right?

Be careful looking down at me Alias... it’s a rather nasty fall from up there.

Especially when you lose to me again.

And you fail to see what is waiting for you after the loss.

Of course, that would just mean some more time chasing your tail until you find the right track right? Those moments where we met up with each other and nothing really happened? See Alias, when I beat you at Leap of Faith, and you did your phoenixing? There was a higher plane for you to obtain. You had the key, it was in your hands already. I just pushed you forward to unlock that door and take what was inside. You had the Universe waiting there as a safety net.

Now?

There is nowhere left for you to go should you lose.

There isn't someone waiting for you to come and grab something from them.

There is nothing for you to rise up and obtain.

There is no Universe waiting to cushion your fall.

There is nowhere but down.

Down the path I send you on.

Chasing your own tail until you figure out just where you can go, after living at the top and I have taken your place in the Universe.

Do you fucking see me now?”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Let me lace up my boots
'Cause I'ma slay some giants


]]> OOC: This takes place after events in Marf's rp found HERE


My name painted in bloodstain
Making war with anything
Standing up in my way
With a rock from the mud to the brain
I'll be making your bed in the grave

_____________________________________________________________________________

She didn’t want to go back inside.

She stood, staring at her own home, except it didn’t even feel like it should. What should be a comfort to her, sent a tremor through her body. The aura had changed. It was forever tainted with the events that had occurred that morning. She could never have foretold it. She shudders as the grisly images storm their way through her mind's eye once more.

Damien’s face.

It hadn't even been a face anymore.

It had been a caved in bowl, filled with stringy meat.

Her stomach lurches dangerously, threatening to erupt. Not that there was anything in it. She had not even thought about food after those few sips of coffee she had with Marf.

Marf.

She didn’t know who that person was who had appeared in her kitchen, but it wasn’t Marf. Not her Marf. That person had been a stranger to her, one she had never seen before, even after all their time together. Even after all of the things they had done with one another. She had seen the sadness in his eyes, the sorrow, tinged with something she couldn’t identify before his mouth had crashed over hers. It had not been just a normal kiss though. She could almost taste the regret and pain. It was more like a goodbye, and it had confused her, making her head whirl. And then he had pulled away, and morphed right before her very eyes.

The ever so familiar face, and then the mask slid over his features, obscuring the one she had known and loved.

Then he had...

Her body gives a violent quake.

Lycana had seen a lot of death in her life, even participated in some. She had seen friends die, and come across their lifeless corpses. She had been so damn young when her sister and parents were murder, and those images were forever ingrained into her brain... but there was something, sickeningly special, and not in a good way, about watching someone you thought you knew better than anyone stomp the skull in of your friend in front of you.

That helpless feeling of shock, rooting you to the spot. Frozen and unable to to lift a finger in aid.

Could she have stopped his rage monster this time? She always had. She had a muzzle on it, and all it took was her presence, but that had not been enough this time. A word, a touch... she had failed to even try. All she could do was stand there. Stand there like a fucking statue. A useless, block of fucking ice... and Damien had suffered the price.

Guilt.

“This is my fault...”

“Don’t you dare Ly!”

Lycana lifts watery eyes to meet the blazing ones of Arcana.

“This is fucking Marf’s fault! Not yours!”

“But if I...”

“Shut the fuck up! What if he would have hurt you too?”

“He would never...”

“Can you say that? Did you think he would do this?!”

Lycana subsides, a tear spilling over to trickle down her cheek as she turns her face back to the façade of her house, the windows like dark, dead eyes in its face. She shivers. She wanted to believe that he would never hurt her. Their bond was like nothing she had ever experienced. Their relationship. Their love. It wasn’t enough to stop this, so who was she to say anything? But deep down, her entire being rebelled at the notion, her soul screaming its denials even as her brain waved the image of Damien’s brain splattered across her kitchen as evidence.

“Do you think he is still in there?”

“I don’t know Kaiya.”

“If he is, I’m fucking tell you, that I am going to incinerate his ass. No, that’s too damn fast. I’m going to take fucking pieces off of him, one by one with fireballs. Then I'm going to burn his eyeballs out of his face. And THEN...”

Lycana fades out again as Arcana rages on. She could almost see the smoke pouring out of the pyromancers ears, no pun intended. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if Marf was still in her house. She had not even thought about that when Arcana had poofed them back. She had not even wanted to come back, but Arc had wanted to see for herself.

She had run from Marf, only thinking to get away from the scene, to wipe that vision from her eyes and had failed. She had hurtled up the stairs and into their bedroom, locking the door like he couldn’t have just ripped it from its hinges if he wanted to. Then, she had called Arcana, not knowing where else to turn. Damien had been Ly’s friend, but he had been Arcana’s closest, her best friend, them growing up together in the orphanage. She had found herself whisked away to California on a red cloud of magic, faced with a hysterical woman, as she herself had fallen into hysterics.

Jimmy had loved it.

Once they had both calmed enough for Lycana to spit the story out, and then had themselves a good cry again, anger had taken over Arcana, and she demanded they go back.

So here they were.

“Let’s go Tav. We can’t leave Damien in there.”

She sucks in a deep breath and merely nods, both stepping forward in unison to cross the lawn, moving up the steps to the front door. Her breathing halted, Lycana reaches out and puts her hand on the doorknob. After a moment's hesitation, she turns in and pushes the door open, bracing herself for...

Nothing.

The house stands cold and silent.

They step in and Lycana watches as Arcana closes the door, feeling a weird sensation of being boxed in. They move deeper into the living room, eyes scanning everything, but all is still. The air is heavy around them, laden with the horrors that had happened hours before. It was as if the evil of the action, had permeated the very bones of the house, and it was slowly oozing from the walls.

“Marf?” she calls out, hoping to not hear an answering word or footstep. None is forthcoming. “Wait here.”

It would be better if it was just her, and he didn’t see Arcana, if he was here. She moves through the house, climbing the stairs and poking her head in room by room. Nothing is disturbed or out of place. As she approaches the door to the master bedroom, she can see that it is off kilter. No, not only off kilter, most of it splintered into pieces. Her steps slow, and she looks beyond the broken door, into the room beyond.

It was empty.

She carefully steps over the rubble, taking a moment to glance into the bathroom before walking towards the bed, where only a single thing was different from how she had left it.

A frame lay on the bed.

In it, a picture of them.

She looks at it for a long moment, wondering what he had been thinking when he picked it up. Wondering if he knew that he had destroyed what they had. Wondering if he knew that within a few short moments, he had destroyed everything she held dear, setting her lost and adrift.

But it was her fault, when you got to the root of it.

Maybe if she had not been such a snarky bitch.

Maybe if she had just reached out to him after their fight.

Maybe if she didn’t have the toxic tendency to shut down when she didn’t know what to do or say.

Maybe if she had just tried harder to mend the rough and torn patches they had been going through.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

She would never know now. Never have those what if answers. She had done none of it, and it was Damien who paid the price. His blood was on her hands. It should have been her. It should be her on that cold floor downstairs, dead with her face caved it. She had tempted Death enough, who was she to cheat it once more, and get someone else hurt in the process? She looks one last time at the picture, then sets it on the table, face down before making her way back down the stairs where Arcana stood, just beyond the kitchen doorway.

“You don’t want to see this Kai... fuck, I don’t want to see this again.”

“I have to Tav. I have to see if I can fix this.”

“I think this might even be beyond you... Do they even work on...” she chokes on the word. “Dead... people?”

“I... I don’t know.”

Lycana goes first, the sight of the gore decorating the cabinets and walls making her stomach flip once more. She hears the sharp inhalation next to her, the low keening noise of denial, the anger flipping to horror at the sight. The girl’s fall into each other's arms, the tears flowing freely as they stood surrounded by the macabre scene.

“How could he?” Arcana drops to her knees in the puddle of now clotted blood that had spread into a pool around Damien’s body.

“I don’t know, it wasn’t even him. I...” her voice quivers as she takes her place by Arcana’s side. “I warned you.”

“I didn’t expect...” she swallows a sob, but brings her hands up, moving them in intricate motions. The familiar gold trails begin, leaving glittering patterns in the air as she performs her healing magic over Damien.

Nothing.

She tries again, her movements jerky. And then again, desperation in every flick of her hand.

“It’s no use.” Lycana whispers.

“No.” Arcana denies. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

For a long time, there is nothing but the sound of harsh breathing, sniffles, and crying, then Arcana’s head snaps around to Ly. “The bell... the BELL! You can bring him back.”

“Kaiya, he doesn’t even... have a brain. He wouldn’t, I don’t even think he’d...”

“I’ll heal him.” Arcana grips Ly’s shoulders, her eyes wide and wild. “As you bring him back to life, I’ll heal him. We can work together. We can fix this.”

“I... I can’t... I...”

“You can! You have before... we have to try, we have to. We...”

“I CAN’T KAI!”

Arcana stares at her, still holding her grip. “Why not?”

“I don’t even know who I am anymore Kaiya. After everything I saw...”

She hesitates.

“You might as well tell me.”

“But...”

Arcana looks at Damien.

“He’s not going anywhere.” she replies, drily.

Lycana didn’t know if she should laugh, or cry again. Some sort of strange, strangled moan comes out instead as she starts her story, telling Arcana everything she had experienced while under the influence of the Gorgon elixir that she had created. From the moment she had swallowed it...

“You’re fucking stupid, do you know that?”

“Heard that a lot lately.”

… to when Marf had shaken her awake, and carried her home where she had slept for three days straight, waking up this morning and falling directly into the current events.

“I don’t know who I am. Who the real Tavora is. I always thought that Cate was the one who controlled me being a shapeshifter, I thought it was something I had to earn from her and instead, it was in my DNA all along.”

Why had Hecate rescued her as a child when she was thrown in to get poked and prodded after she had been blamed for the murder of her family? Why had she been plucked from there, protected from retribution from killing her tormentor, raised up just outside the coven, but not being told anything about it until she hit a certain age? An age old enough to start learning under her tutelage? Had she known? Had she seen what Lycana really was and decided to try and keep her for herself, to control her like Jonah wanted to control Tavya?

“My line was created, literally created, to be an army for the Left Hand. A weapon. A fucking living, breathing weapon. I was MADE for that. Born and bred, through generations to be the very fucking thing I was. She sold her fucking soul to save her people, and enslaved them instead. I don’t even know how he controlled it, how he knew... where he got the virus in the first place. I wish I knew what happened through the years...”

Maybe this gift really was a curse. Her whole reason for being what she was, rested on the shoulders of the Left Hand. An entire race, made to be used as pawns to do whatever they were told to, under the guise of power. Killing and slaughtering at will, so that the group could advance with their plans with little to no resistance when faced with the jaws of death. She was made to be a killer. An assassin. A weapon. At one point, that might have made her happy. Now? Now she was questioning everything she ever was, or could be.

“So, what was me and what wasn’t this whole time? Is this what brought the Left Hand to me? It was nothing about what they saw in me, except my fucking DNA? Was the Baphomet really just blowing smoke up my ass? Did they hunt me down because of WHAT I was? Is that why I felt so compelled to join, because I had to? Not that I wanted to? Is that why Betsy and I started as enemies? She killed her sister... ending the peace that Betsy and I saw created together. Is that the strange draw we have always had? Who the fuck am I? What was me, and what is just in my goddamn genetics, forcing my hand? What the fuck am I?”

Had she even made any of those choices on her own? Was she who she was, simply because of the genetics that make her a lycanthrope? Each and every decision she had made, was now called into question. Was it her, or was it the wolf? Was she really rid of the Left Hand? Or would they be coming to her because she had turned her back on what her ancestor had pledged so long ago? She was no longer the tool, the walking weapon for the organization. Would they let that slide? Could she even be anything else? Or would she fall right back into line, her breeding taking over and bending her to its will? She had refused John Caedus, and she now knew he had a much deeper involvement... but would she be able to forever? Would he somehow, take control over her and revert her back to what Tavya was? Or would he simply kill her because of her insubordination?

“I don’t know what to do with myself anymore Kai. How can I just go on like I don’t know any of this? I don’t even feel like I should change to the wolf, like I need to keep the beast locked up. I don’t feel like myself. And I... don’t know if I should be doing the magic, and tempting fate again...”

She looks from one friend to the other, one living and one dead.

“... even to bring him back.”

“That’s... a lot of questions and a lot to absorb.” Arcana settles back on her heels with a sigh. “I don’t even have the answers for you. Do you feel like you’d go back to the Left Hand if they came for you? I mean, you’ve been away this long without any ties to them...”

“Baph’s body.” Lycana gives a short laugh, the realization dawning. “Maybe that’s why I was so damn compelled to keep it, to find it, to protect it and keep him alive. I was fucking programmed to. So maybe I would go back...”

“I don’t know what to say, except that I think you can pick your own path right now. I know you have a lot going on right now, but... look at Damien. He needs us.”

Like he needed her to do everything that she had not. Like he needed her to fix things with Marf instead of them sniping at one another. Guilt slams through Lycana’s body.

“He needs us to try. And maybe, maybe it won’t work and it would have been all for nothing but...”

Lycana lifts stormy gray eyes to meet Arcana’s hopeful amber ones.

“... what if?”

What if.

What if she had done things differently?

What if she was nothing but a puppet?

What if she could alter the future?

What if she could change the Universe?

What if she could bring Damien back?

What if?

What if it did work, and she could start making amends? What if it didn’t, and she felt even worse because she failed him a second time in a row, and Arcana on top of it? What if her magic was somehow connected to something out of her control and just programmed into her like a piece of machinery? What if Alias was right, and she was just existing to be something to someone else?

What was she?

Who was she?

Who the fuck, was Lycana?

But she finds her mouth opening, an agreement coming out. “Okay. Let’s try. Reika is at her friend's house still, I’m sure her mother wouldn’t mind if she stayed another night.”

And thank fuck for that.

Lycana dreaded telling Reika that Marf was gone... because the reality was, she couldn’t let him back home, not after what had happened. It was all over between them, and Reika was not likely to be able to understand why her adored Marfy couldn’t come help tuck her in at night. Read her a story. Be the father that he was to her.

A sob lodges heavy in her chest.

How could someone so gentle with her, someone who had stepped into the role of a parent without a single blink, do this?

At least now, for this moment Reika was with her friend Adalynn, in the wolf village. They were close to the same age, and played well together. Addy was on the autism spectrum, and the two girls had formed a connection, which pleased both Lycana and the girl's mother. Let it be a time of peace and happiness for Reika, before Lycana had to break her heart about Marf.

And possibly about Damien too, if she were to fail.

Failure.

She couldn’t fail.

She couldn’t allow it.

She was going to change the course of the Universe, at least one more time.

A red glow envelops them all.

And then they are gone.

_____________________________________________________________________________



“Where to start, where to start...

And where to end?

Seems like this rollercoaster of a prematch event is finally coming to a close, and I don’t know about you, but I am damn tired of words.

Yep, the long-winded bitch is over all this monologuing.

Can I just say, it was interesting, all this back and forth? I still stand by everything I said, and I have plenty more to go, but I wanted to preface this with that. While I don’t think we necessarily cleared the air between us, perhaps we even obscured things even more, it was damn more than we had going on back at Leap of Faith. I tried back then though, trying to piece together for you how I felt and what I did and why, and you just refused to see beyond the red haze of your rage. This time though? I think you are just not seeing beyond your own damn stubbornness.

Or maybe it is the simple fact that YOU can’t see ME for who I am now compared to then, while insisting I do the same for you.

Look Alias, I get that it's easy to look past me when you are holding the Universe in your hands, but it’s the ones you least expect that will come in and snatch something from you. You say that you remember what happened back in May, that you were in a different mindset back then, and yeah you were... But that doesn’t erase the threat I was to you then, the one you didn’t see coming.

And the one I am now.

The one you still don’t see coming.

I know you said that you aren't looking past me. Verbatim. I know you did; I have been paying attention and listening after all, despite what you may thing. It is one of the things you claimed that you were not doing.

But it is everything else that proves that statement wrong.

You have focused on aspects of me that I have never denied. You have focused on the fact that you are different. You have focused on that you have been undefeated since me. You have focused on that fact that you have the Universe and that makes you somehow untouchable.

Alias, many others have held it before you... You can hold it as tight as you wish, it doesn’t stop someone with the right amount of determination and drive. It happens to all, and it happens to the best.

They fall.

Yet you don’t think that I am going to be the One, simply because... I don’t have a blowtorch, or a way to light you on fire. Yeah, I was being a bit of a twat here, I understood what you meant. But I also have been telling you that I will do what it takes, anything at all... and that even completing the damn job... with my two bare hands.

I can assure you Alias... I am very much capable of being that One for you again, and I fully plan on it.

I don’t have anything to hold me back.

I called the relationship we share complicated, painted us as possibly allies, but that is off the table when we step in the ring together, at least while we are not standing side by side. In that ring, you are not my friend, not my ally, not anything other than someone that I need to get through.

But you have missed one very important detail.

The singular thing, but the biggest that has changed right here, right now with you as opposed to about everybody else that I have faced.

Something that I have always said to them, and even to you back in our other two matches, something that I have always held to that I purposely did a one eighty with here.

I come to fight. I live for it. I enjoy every moment of my time in that ring. Last time you and I went toe to toe, I told you that I didn’t care what happened, that I was coming to do battle and take whatever chance came my way. That all I cared about doing, was surviving and making you hurt right along with it. Nothing else mattered to me. It’s what I do, but I’m not doing that this time. I am not only coming to make you hurt or enjoy the fight.

I want to beat you.

I am coming to win this one.

Different.

I am walking into this match with a completely different focus that I ever have before. I don’t care about beating you up or causing you pain. Not this time. This time, my focus is on what I want, and that is to win. This one matters to me.

This is what I have been trying to tell you, to have you open your eyes and see that while you aren't the same Alias from months ago, neither am I the same Lycana.

And when I tell you I mean I will do anything... I mean that.

I did before.

But that Lycana of old? She set you on fire, and then left you to burn. She didn’t care about what happened to you. This new one? She will settle down to watch you cremate and make sure that the job is completely done. And then light you up and kill you again, just to make doubly sure that you are gone.

Metaphorically speaking of course, there will be no fire.

But there will be me.

And I am all the weapon and fire I need... even if it comes down to that very thing you seem to think I might lack the courage to do.

I might not be the same devious minx that I was when I first arrived, but I am infinitely more dangerous right now to you. Morals? I have them as pertaining to the rules we set forth, by my suggestion, but when it comes to just how far I would go to end this thing? There are no limits. You want it even blunter? Even if I have to fucking kill you with my own bare hands.

I told you Alias, out of that ring... I like you. Inside, if we aren't teaming or standing for something together? You are nothing to me.

It’s pretty easy to sit on the top of your mountain and look down and gloat at all the ones who try to make this climb.

After all, you have the Universe and the track record. You have almost everything you want right now, except for what I am going to push you into apparently.

It's easy to scorn me, when I don’t carry quite the merits you do.

I suppose though, if we look into things a little further, everything starts to shift just a little. See, I know there is a large number of losses on my record sheet. I don’t try to play it off, I accept them. But if you want to go in deeper. You used this very thing against Page...

Oh nooooo... Ly went back and watched me say things! Oh dear! Let me be sarcastic about it like it hasn’t come around to bite me in the ass already!

Ahem.

Anyway. Page tried to come at you that you both lost to me, and what did you reply back? That the one thing he cannot claim, is that Lycana never pinned him, because I never pinned you.

Truth... and we can say you have also never pinned me, despite claiming a win as well. Fact of the matter is, not many people have. For all the losses sitting in my records, compare that to the actual number of times that I was pinned, and you are going to see a real difference there. I just don’t bother to make a big deal out of it, a win a win, a loss a loss. Pin or not.

So yeah, you still have the better record while you sit up on high even if you take that into account, but it didn’t matter at Leap, and it's not going to matter now. So, you enjoy taking your easy pot shots up there.

It’s going to be even easier to see that you made a grave error in misjudging me when you go tumbling down the other side of that mountain.

Oh, and before anyone gasps and clutches their pearls that I would do such a thing to Marf... Go ahead and ask him about it. The man cared less about win loss records than I ever could claim. It never fazed him. That was the beauty in the Dissentients, we never really gave a shit and could say what we wanted about one another.

Also... he killed my friend. I'd say we aren't on the best terms right now.

You know, the game you tried to play with my reasonings with instant gratification, it was decent. I’ll give you that. But you glossed over the damn compliment in there. Again. What do you have with taking them Alias? I mean, for someone who mentioned that things have turned sour, you sure are turning a blind eye to all the praise I'm lavishing your way.

Couldn’t be on purpose, could it?

Nah. Not you!

I’ve been saying this entire time, that everything that makes you, you is why I picked you, over everybody else. You wanted to know why and I gave you a multitude of reasonings, that you decided to dissect... so I’m not the only one in science class over here. You couldn’t just accept it.

I tell you that you are standing at the top of the company.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I tell you that you being undefeated since me is impressive.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I tell you that you are the one with the target, because you are the one to beat.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I tell you that I plan to beat you because it would make my prior win, definitive.

You don’t see me Lycana.

I’m different!

Umm alright Alias. I acknowledged that a million times. AS AM I. What else would you like me to say?

Oh, sorry... I notice that you are now carrying the Universe, are definitely different, and are the person to beat around the company... so let's have a nice fight, but leading up to it all I’m going to do is talk about how much I’m going to lose this match instead of telling you the whys of how I am different too.

Sure. Silly me. At least I can keep that in mind for the future, right?

Oh, but wait, I said the dynamics had not changed in the way you speak of. But of course, you are going to try and say I agree with you on everything, so that I'm some sort of dumbass who has no idea what I'm talking about.

As I have to explain everything out to you.

Like you are the dumbass.

Funny thing, that.

What did I say after that Alias?

I named all the ways in which the dynamic had changed. Yours. Mine. Ours. You know, all the things you’re over there gloating that I agreed with you on this whole time...

Literally- there it is!- every point that you said, I named right there on the microphone. Every. Single. One. So, what did Lycana mean by saying they had not changed in the way you meant? Wait for it... wait for it...

Not like I haven't already said this to you.

But I'm the one not paying attention.

So, what the fuck do I know?

It meant exactly what the fuck I said while holding the fucking mic in my hand. I am different as well, but the ways that mattered that are important to our match are still present and accounted for in me, they HAVE NOT changed. I said this before Alias. I mentioned all the shit has that has stayed the same with me. “Never give up” ring a bell? Perhaps “do whatever it takes”? Hello? It was one of the very first things we talked about.

Or I talked.

You didn’t even listen.

I also said it wasn’t enough that you should count me out, but you know my feelings with how you are handling that one, already.

If you were paying attention that is.

Or maybe you are right, and I’m the one who doesn’t know what's going on.

Since I missed the part where I claimed to never use people’s words. Never mind that I just told you that I will, especially when they contradict one another. Never mind that I have been blabbering on and on about doing whatever it takes. Never mind that I never said that nobody does it. But okay, would me owning up to it, in a more effusive manner make you feel better?

Hey Alias, I used your words.

To talk to you.

About... your words.

And how they don’t fucking match up.

There.

I don’t have to pretend that I am anything more than I am. I’ve been the same fucking ray of sunshine in my approach to these promos for quite some time now. It’s nothing new that I have unleashed special for you. It’s not copying a play from anyone else’s book. It’s pure honesty, and how I view things. I go back and watch the tapes. I study. I learn. I find things that just don’t make sense and point them out. I’ve been doing it months Alias, what makes you cry mimicry?

Is it because I said I was going to approach you differently than the rest had?

I mean I did.

The others came at you with how you won the Universe.

I didn’t care.

The others came at you trying to lay shit at your door that made no sense.

I mocked them.

The others tried to talk you down, and make you out to be a nothing who got lucky.

I called them stupid.

I will admit to being a bit of a shit when I asked you about being nervous. But hey, we are having fun right? You can stand a little bit of ribbing coming your way too, surely? I mean, it's just that when you tend to start getting... flustered, shall we say, is that a better word? You start going here and there and all over the place. Everything changes with how you approach things. You are very readable that way Alias. That’s not a dig at you, just a mere observation. Whenever someone gets just a little too close to knowing you, you bolt. Not literally, heh... but you try to lead them on a merry chase, wanting them to bite at anything else other than the subject they had landed on.

See, honesty. Just like I approach everyone else. Despite you being... well, you. I said I was going to approach you differently than they had, not differently than I had anyone else.

But you go on and pirouette with everything.

Like I said you do but you think I said I wouldn’t do but I never said I wouldn’t do it even though Im not doing what you think it is I'm doing.

There was a little nudge in there, in case you missed it.

So where do we go from here?

You are pretty set that I don’t see you, in all your blazing glory and that I have no idea what I’m in for when I step in that ring.

Do you?

You think you do.

But you have never faced a Lycana that is focused on winning, that she is willing and able to do anything it takes to get it. Nobody has. Shit, I’m not even sure what is going to happen in that ring if I’m being honest with you. I’ve been in the ring with a version of you, that I acknowledged as feral. I was careful then, defensive, having to strike when and where I could. I can imagine that you will now be placing yourself in the more careful category, which means my watchful eye? Is going to have to pick up on even the most minute details. My ring awareness, had better be on point like it was last time. Do I know if I’m going to be the aggressor? No. Will I remain on the defense and dart in for the jugular when I see an opening? I have no fucking clue. Neither do you... because you haven’t been in the ring with this version of me.

And if we really want to get down and dirty, I don’t even fucking know if you were aware enough to learn the other one either.

And that one beat you.

And neither of us knows where the Universe is going to take us.

In anything.

Not in life, in our career, or even where it is going to take us tomorrow.

We could end up in Tahiti throwing cutlery at one another in a fancy resort. Maybe we will end up battling it out on a miniature iceberg floating somewhere by the South Pole. Maybe we can prance among the blue-footed boobies in the Galapagos.

Neither of us knows a damn thing about what is going to happen when we take this ride. And that includes who is going to win. You can assure me all you want, you can try and beat me over the head with all the words you want...and fuck we have used a lot of words... to tell me how you are better and different and that makes all the... well, difference.

But it doesn’t matter Alias... because it is like I have been saying all along.

What if.

What if it isn’t what you can take from the Universe, but what it gifts you?

What if the Universe decides it is time for you to go on a new journey without it?

What if the Universe decides that someone else is in need of it?

What if the Universe changes hands?

What if this Lycana, can pull off the upset and win... like the one of old?

There are no guarantees Alias, no matter how much you think there is for you. You were just as confident going into the last one, I don’t have to keep telling you how that turned out. There is just as good of a chance of this one going the same way.

Because we are both different.

Something that we agree on.

But all the damn ways we don’t.

Which I guess is the very epitome of the word, huh?

We can go back and forth forever with this, I think. And maybe we will, who the hell knows. What are the odds of us getting back in the ring together in the future? The great debate about differences can start anew much to the joy of everyone!

Doesn’t that sound like fun?

It actually does, to me.

Because then, we may very well be on opposite sides of the screen here, with you trying to figure out where the Universe wanted you to go, from its spot in my hands. Hey, what if it wanted you to lose to me, to learn humility and find yourself and then come back for a rematch to learn some more, since I am the one you learn so much from?

Does that include listening and learning from these promos too, because I’m gonna have to fail you on that.

Universe is gonna be pretty mad at you if that’s the case.

Of course, you can always be a late bloomer and snag ahold of what I was saying, then come back around and act like its new and fresh, like you did this time by saying I’m who made you who you are today... like I told you I did at Leap of Faith, but you said I didn’t. Ha!

Look at me Alias. I’m the one you had to lose to, to get to where you are.

But I’m just a stepping stone for you right?

Be careful looking down at me Alias... it’s a rather nasty fall from up there.

Especially when you lose to me again.

And you fail to see what is waiting for you after the loss.

Of course, that would just mean some more time chasing your tail until you find the right track right? Those moments where we met up with each other and nothing really happened? See Alias, when I beat you at Leap of Faith, and you did your phoenixing? There was a higher plane for you to obtain. You had the key, it was in your hands already. I just pushed you forward to unlock that door and take what was inside. You had the Universe waiting there as a safety net.

Now?

There is nowhere left for you to go should you lose.

There isn't someone waiting for you to come and grab something from them.

There is nothing for you to rise up and obtain.

There is no Universe waiting to cushion your fall.

There is nowhere but down.

Down the path I send you on.

Chasing your own tail until you figure out just where you can go, after living at the top and I have taken your place in the Universe.

Do you fucking see me now?”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Let me lace up my boots
'Cause I'ma slay some giants


]]> <![CDATA[ESPN 30 for 30 Presents: APEX's Tag Title Reign Sucked]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42317 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 21:58:35 -0800 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42317 An eraser skitters across a chalkboard like a cockroach. The last message is erased.

“Okay. We’ve beaten the Greatest Tag Team in XWF History. That happened. It’s done.”

A stick of chalk taps impatiently onto a bottom lip.

“And now, because we lost a match that had nothing to do with wrestling and more to do with keeping a suicidal werewolf alive WHILE we had to kill a deathless vampire lord… I guess we’re over the hill?”

“Apparently, Mark Flynn. Even though we had to get on a shipping barge to Romania the same night we beat the Bastards, APEX seems to believe that’s proof we’re mediocre.”

“Even though we were wrestling while jet-lagged.”

“Barge-lagged, Mark Flynn.”

“We’re officially dead in the water, because we dropped a match against Betsy & Ly. The team that were deemed good enough to fight for the titles at the biggest Pay-Per-View of the year.”

"The team comprised of the current TV champion and the #1 contender for the Universal Title."

"Competing in a match that Jim couldn't get into with a fucking 24/7 Briefcase."

“Betsy Granger & Lycana... the only duo we’ve ever lost to in our history as a team.”

…

“Hey, could you google something for me, NK?”

“Absolutely, Mark Flynn.” NK whips out his Motorola Razr…

“What team did APEX lose to?”

NK’s thumbs quickly tap the keyboard on his 2003 flip phone. It chirps as the top result displays the truth.

“Steve Justice and Hanari Carnes.”

…

NK and Flynn both bust out laughing. The only thing that stops their glee at this irony is Flynn accidentally inhales a big cloud of chalk dust and starts hacking up a lung.

After everyone has calmed down, Flynn sighs in oxygen-based relief...

“All right, well, that talking point about us losing to Betsy & Ly is pretty dead. Considering APEX is responsible for BOTH the longest ever tag title reign AND giving the belts to the worst tag team champions in XWF history.”

“Yes, agreed, Mark Flynn. Jim Caedus’ single real talking point has been immediately disarmed.”

“Awesome. And what were Robert Main’s talking points?”

NK’s eyebrows raise.

“Something about APEX is the future and the future is APEX? How dominance dominates the indominant and mediocrity is mediocre? How on Earth should I know, Mark Flynn? He rambles like a lost elderly home resident trying to tell a Life Alert employee about how his grandson never calls anymore.”

Flynn laughs.

“Yeah, Rob definitely has a unique Grandpa Simpson vibe to his promos.”

“Robert Main is so dull, he makes Steve Davids’ promos look watchable.”

Flynn hikes up his tights up above his belly button to achieve that old man aesthetic.

“I used to be the Champion for belts that no longer exist! Now, back then, championship belts had pictures of bumblebees on them! Which was the style at the time!”

NK guffaws and retrieves from his pocket a pair of reading glasses, which he pretends to fumble, adjusting the spectacles onto his eyes…

“Now, back in my day, we didn’t have briefcases! The only way we could get universal title shots was to trade bags of onions down by the CRICK, Mark Flynn! It was the Depression Era you see!”

“As in the time that APEX was considered the best tag team. The most depressing era in XWF tag team history.”

“Leave it to Robert Main to say in 4800 words what a better speaker could say in ten.”

Flynn and NK bump fists. Flynn drops his tights back to his waist and NK gently returns his reading glasses to his pocket.

“All right. Let’s focus up. We need to answer the big question: What are APEX’s weaknesses?”

NK sits down at one of the desks in the classroom and raises his hand.

“Yes, you. The student in the front.”

“Their recruiting department will take anyone in? Even fucking Drew Archyle?”

Flynn guffaws, before covering his mouth and shaking his head.

“Okay, hold up on the roasts for a sec. We’re doing that bit where we actually strategize and plan against our opponents. Y’know? That thing that only we seem to do.”

“Gee, almost as if we were athletes preparing for an important event.”

“Okay, so… Jim and Robert.”

Flynn sketches their names on the board.

“Now, APEX is a diverse pair... of speakers. Jim talks like if he doesn’t say 120 words a minute, the bus he’s driving will explode.”

“And Robert Main speaks as if people enjoy hearing him talk.”

“Clearly, they’re both out-of-touch with reality.”

Flynn taps his nose, before writing under each’s name.

“However, their in-ring styles have a ton of overlap…”

Flynn writes out word-for-word Jim’s in-ring style…

Quote:A mental force of will that defies all obstacles... A level of biological toughness that has allowed Jim to survive anything... A temper can turn Jim from Cool to Crazy in a heartbeat

Then he does the same for Robert’s…

Quote:High endurance level... high pain threshhold, very hands on, Suplex master... Over-Aggressive

“As you can see, their whole shtick is… exactly the fuckin’ same. They’re both ‘highly durable’, ‘technical wrestlers’ with ‘mean streaks’ that can get ‘overly aggressive’. Pretty much the same guy. Except the first is voiced by Larry the Cable Guy and the second is voiced by a guy that took Prozac advertised by Larry the Cable Guy.”

NK’s brow scrunches thoughtfully.

“Indeed, Mark Flynn. They are very similar in the ring. And both very capable.”

Flynn shakes his head.

“That’s not the point, NK. Rob and Jim are solid SINGLES wrestlers. And they dominated the division for almost a calendar year, because of how good they are… at SINGLES wrestling.”

“But, Jim and Rob as a tag team play the exact same role in the ring. Which means they bring their strengths to the table, but without any variety to cover their weaknesses.”

It’s like putting two quarterbacks on the field. Or drafting a basketball team with five centers!”

NK nods, suddenly completely understanding!

“Or like WarGames Team, Dis-Continuum!”

NK springs out of his chair… Or he tries to, he kinda gets caught on that weird metal bit that you have to step over to sit down. Why is that even there?

But he eventually makes it to the chalkboard.

“Thaddeus Duke had a significant advantage going into WarGames. Not only did he win the Captain’s Match and have the edge in morale… He also had the chance to select 1st, 12th and 13th on the board. The best possible draft slots for any captain.”

“Exactly, NK. And Thad dropped the ball. He picked Dock, Chris Chaos and Andre Dixon. Three idiots that spent more time trashing each other and calling each other cannon fodder than developing a team strategy.”

NK shakes his head.

“But even more so, Mark Flynn! Thaddeus Duke drafted the same wrestling style thrice!”

NK draws three little cartoon faces, one for each non-Thad member of the team.

“DOCK is a desperate scrapper, resorting to biting, punching and kicking to break down more technical defenses. Andre Dixon is a self-described ‘thug’ focusing on UFC style strikes to create openings for his higher-impact moves…”

Flynn snaps his fingers, vibing on NK’s point.

“And Chris Chaos’ whole fighting background is football, boxing and UFC! Shit, you’re right, NK! Thad basically picked three brawling punchy guys that all played the exact same position on the field.”

“And despite the amount of talent in his corner, Team Thaddeus Duke not only failed in the first round, they lost by a margin of two whole men!”

“Because just like APEX, when you've grabbed duplicate tools, you’ve got no versatility in your tool kit.”

Flynn grins like he’s found the secret to turn straw into gold.

“Jim and Rob are bringing a bag full of hammers to a screw-turning contest. What a pair of buffoons.”

“They fail to see the vision of True Korea! They fail to shed their individuality and embrace their whole as a part of something greater: THE COLLECTIVE!”

Flynn rolls his eyes.

“All right, all right, bring it down a notch, Karl Marx. I see your point. We wrestle different, complementary styles. And Jim and Rob don’t.”

“Exactly so, Mark Flynn! You are a wrestling virtuoso and brilliant strategist, while I am a flawless athlete and a mental warfare master. We both circumvent the rules, but with different ethoses. We are effectively peanut butter and jelly.”

“And Jim and Rob are two handfuls of tapioca.”

Flynn taps his nose.

“So, we just need to come in with a game plan to abuse the hole in both of their games… and they’ll fall like dominos in a row.”

“And their weakness is, of course…?”

Flynn points the chalk towards NK.

NK blinks, one eye at a time, hesitant.

Flynn writes out one word in bud letters all the way across the board:

TEMPER.

“Jim and Rob are two short-fuses.”

“Yes, hence their ‘mean streaks’. Don’t make them angry. You wouldn’t like them when they’re angry.”

“And yet, that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”

Flynn writes under temper words like ‘INFURIATE’, ‘ENRAGE’, ‘EXACERBATE’, and ‘TROLL’.

NK bites his lip.

“Mark Flynn, is this the best strategy?”

Flynn smiles like a madman who’s found sanity.

“This is the only viable strategy, NK! This IS the Optimal Path!”

“We’re going to wage asymmetrical mental warfare against APEX. They’re planning on coming in and putting on a show. They’ve said Bad Medicine is where they plan on establishing their new reign of dominance, blah blah, what Rob Main said, blah.”

“They don’t plan on just beating us. They plan on making an example of us! They want to look dominant and macho and STRONG at all costs! And we’re going to block them at every turn!”

Flynn draws a ring, and sketches arrows pointing out of it. He draws the ropes and arrows toward them.

“We’re going to create distance when they start rolling! We’re going to grab the ropes whenever they chain moves together… We’re going to do everything in our power to slam the brakes on their show whenever they try to get it off the ground.”

“And they’re going to get so fucking mad…. They’re going to start making little mistakes. Then, those little mistakes will compound into bigger ones… And that’s how we take down the mighty APEX. A sea of Unforced errors and flawless execution.”

Flynn writes a ‘Q.E.D.’ on the board. He’s actually breathing heavily. He’s so excited he’s found a plan, his heart is racing just thinking about it.

NK walks up beside Flynn, eyeballing his outlines thoughtfully.

“Now…”

Flynn looks NK in the eyes.

“This plan depends on you.”

NK’s eyebrow raises again.

"Me, Mark Flynn?"

“You know that thing you do where you’re a giant fucking asshole?”

“...I’d rather refer to it as ‘I wage psychological warfare’.”

“Yeah that… You’re gonna have to be that. But 125%.”

"You're going to annoy. You're going to provoke."

Flynn shakes his head, clearly not the most amped about this last part...

"And you're going to do the thing that pisses them off the most: You're going to cheat."

Flynn claps NK on the shoulder.

“Think you can pull it off?”

NK scoffs.

“Pull it off?”

…

He sneers with a sadistic glee.

“Mark Flynn. I was BORN for this.”

***
Several hours later, the chalkboard is full of plans. Diagrams of counter-moves to APEX’s offensive trademarks…

Thunder Kracker? Partner #1 trips one powerbomber, while the other powerbomber ends up in a hurricanrana from Partner #2…

Lightning Strike? Partner #1 Deadweight the Omega Suplex, while Partner #2 crotches Jim on the turnbuckle…

The Gallows? Partner #1 tilts backwards to throw off Omega’s weight, while Partner #2 runs interference on Jimmy, catching him mid-run with a chop block…

The plan to piss APEX off is in place.

Flynn and NK nod and fist bump.

“So, now, Mark Flynn? Is NOW the time to set our opponents ablaze verbally?”

Flynn clicks his tongue.

“I’ve been thinking, NK. The more pissed-off APEX is going into this match, the better off we’ll be.”

“Agreed, Mark Flynn.”

“So… What’s the best way to really grind the gears of a team like APEX? To be the tinfoil wrapped around their teeth? These motherfuckers are so in love with their own accomplishments, their legacy of accolades... They can’t stop fucking talking about how they're the most dominant tag team of all-time.”

“Haha, indeed. So… what do you suggest?”

Flynn cackles.

“We’re going to fucking deep-dive into APEX’s historic longest tag title reign.”

“And we’re going to make it clear that the emperors of XWF’s Tag Team Division.”

“Aren’t wearing any fucking clothes…”

***

An empty chair sits in a film studio. After a few moments, a man in a suit and tie walks from behind the camera and sits down…

It’s Mark Flynn. He looks somber and thoughtful. It’s clear that athletic achievement is one of the few things he takes seriously.

After a thoughtful moment, he looks up.

“Sometimes you look at a record set in a sport and you wonder how it was possible. How a human being dug deep enough to do something no one had ever done before.”

“The XWF has a number of such records…”

“The Brand’s Lifetime Record of 42 and 0.”

“Thaddeus Duke becoming XWF Universal Champion at the age of 21 years, 11 months, and 4 days.”

Flynn nods, then chews on his lip.

“Another XWF record that has stood for a number of years now is APEX’s Tag Team Title Reign of 241 days.”

“Some may ask, wow, how could a tag team hold onto their title belts for 241 days?”

“...”

“It’s pretty easy when everyone else sucks for 8 months.”



[Image: WsDpWJP.png]

“APEX is one of the most celebrated stables in XWF History and its membership is very exclusive. Its personnel consists only of Jim Caedus, Robert Main and Drew Archyle…”

[Image: sfHB62I.jpg]

“And Ned Kaye. And James Raven. And Centurion.”

[Image: 3hnaCW3.jpg]



…

“And Momma Main. And Oliver Main. Cousin Oliver from the Brady Bunch. The Entire Population of Duluth, Minnesota. Every American currently addicted to meth.”

[Image: vgEAA3N.jpg]

When we cut back from the graphics, we see Flynn with a number of charts and qualifications. He’s got on a pair of reading glasses.

“If you were hired by the XWF in 2019, you’re a member of APEX.”

Flynn stands up and taps on his knees.

“If your knees pop when you stand up sometimes, you’re a member of APEX.”

“For this documentary, I made a call to APEX HQ, headquartered out of the trailer park Robert Main calls his home to ask what the application process was like to join APEX.”

“The guy on the other end asked me, Are you NOT Chris Page?”

“I told him I was not…”

Flynn takes off his glasses and looks into the camera.

“And now I’M A MEMBER OF APEX.”

After this dramatic reveal, Flynn slips his reading glasses back on.

“Regardless, you can’t deny that the two most prominent members of APEX are… Jim Caedus and Robert Main.”

“Robert Main, who wrestles four matches a year nowadays, three of which are always against Chris Page…”

“Robert Main, who fucking should look up what ‘Omega’ means and learn it literally means ‘Last Fucking Place’. Which is just too fucking on the nose.”

“Robert Main, who hasn’t held a fucking title in this company for almost a year and a half, despite many, many opportunities…”

“And Jim Caedus.”

The film briefly cuts to a still image of NK’s smiling face.

“Before we do this… You know we love you, Jim Caedus. <3”

Right back to Flynn.

“Jim Caedus, who won a 24/7 briefcase and is still somehow third in line for the Universal Title.”

“Jim Caedus, apparently such ticket sales poison that XWF management REFUSED to let him challenge for the belt because they can’t afford to lose so many asses in seats.”

Suddenly, NK leans into the frame over Flynn’s shoulder.

“I made appearances in half of Comrade Alias’ promos this week. Which means I’m closer to the main event than fucking Jim Caedus.”

“Caedus, you want to talk about how we’re not over? You couldn’t draw water from a fucking well, Jimmy.”

“Jim Caedus, you couldn’t draw fans with a pencil and paper.”

“Jim, my boy, you couldn’t draw fucking breath without Main’s name above yours on the card.”

NK waves his hand up and down, blowing on the metaphorical flames off it.

“Salacious, Mark Flynn! Simply devastating!”

NK hops off camera. Flynn resumes his sportscasting character.

“But, despite how fucking awful these two losers are… They were just barely better than literally everyone else competing for the tag belts. Which… wasn’t many people in 2019.”

Chapter 1: Winning the Belts

“The XWF Tag Titles have long been a way to honor the greatest tag teams in the company.”

“Like when Robbie Bourbon and Scully became the champs by… finding the belts in the trash.”

“Of course, the XWF Tag Titles have always been legitimate. If they weren’t legit, why would Peter Gilmour be a 7-Time Tag Champ?”

Flynn’s eyes suddenly widen in horror.

“...Wait, don’t use th-”

Jump Cut to Flynn walking on at a basketball court.

“On the January 16th Warfare, APEX was vying for the Tag Team Championship, facing two-time Tag Champions, The Midnight Dolls, Jessamyn Hart and Vita Valentine.”

“Or Valenteen. However you say her name. The fucking vampire.”

“Vita Valentine, who also became a two-time Television champion, by losing the belts immediately twice in a row. And Jessamyn Hart, who when reached out to be interviewed for this documentary, tried to sell me ‘slightly soiled’ LuLaRoe leggings.”

We cut to a picture of the shit-stained Lula LaRoe leggings Jessamyn Hart is trying to hawk to anyone that will take them.

“So, Jessamyn Hart is awful and Vita can’t hold onto a belt for longer than two weeks. Of course, APEX, a semi-functional tag team, won the titles.”

“And now that a real tag team has the belts, that means real tag teams will rise up to combat them, right?”

Flynn pauses. Then shakes his head no.

Chapter 2: A Nazi and a Cult Leader

“The next time APEX would defend their belts would be March 31st at XWF March Madness.”

We cut to an old man in the interviewee chair. The placard under him reads ‘XWF Fan Whose Heyday was 2019’.

“You see, nowadays, you youngins expect a tag title match every month! Back in my day, back in 2019, we had a title match every three or four months and we were GRATEFUL! Those matches kept us warm in the winter months as we ate mud! And you better hope that you could work overtime at the child salt mines, otherwise you couldn’t put any salt on your mud!”

We cut back to Flynn.

“APEX, who before defending their title for the first time, had already held the title for 74 days… Were now facing NAZI and Eli James IV.”

“Now, to be clear, this was a viable opposing team... On paper. Eli James was a former Universal champ and NAZI…”

The screen suddenly shifts to an informational title card:

Quote:[The XWF in conjunction with ESPN would prefer to not say anything about NAZI. Rather than remove our content with NAZI, we want to acknowledge his harmful impact, learn from it and spark conversation to create a more inclusive future together. XWF is committed to creating stories with inspirational and aspirational themes that reflect the rich diversity of the human experience around the globe, except nazis, cuz yeah, no.]

Back to Mark Flynn.

“Anyway, they would have been a very good first challenge for APEX…”

“...”

“If they remembered they were competing.”

“You have to remember it was 2019. Eli James was getting his new megachurch off the ground in Houston, selling copies of his book, Listen to Your Heart as Long as Your Heart Says What I Say. He had invested a lot of money into Kool-Aid which, we all know how that’s going to turn out.”

“And NAZI… had taken some time to pursue his new career as Trump’s Secretary of Fighting Indiana Jones.”

“So, APEX cruised to a victory over terrible opponents. But, there’s no reason to think that’s going to be a theme for their whole record-setting title run, right?”

Flynn pauses… Then rubs the bridge of his nose sighing.

Chapter 3: Snow and Rain

Suddenly, Flynn’s eyes go wide. He stands up and picks up the chair behind him, readying it for a swing.

“Oh fuck. Don’t make me talk about Snow and Rain. You can’t make me. I won’t d-”

We cut to a giant obese nerd wearing bifocals and a Sailor Moon t-shirt.

“Hello! I’m the world’s foremost expert on the former XWF Tag Team, Snow and Rain. I’ve seen every one of their matches and every one of their promos. And before you ask, yes, it is because of the incest.”

Cut to a man with a headset sitting in the chair. His title placard reads ‘XWF Production Assistant from 2019 (Currently in Therapy)’.

“Snow and Rain were a tag team that worked for the XWF. Because the CEO was going through a really weird time and we just decided to… not to talk about it.” He suddenly presses his face into his hands, weeping aloud. Someone goes to comfort him. He recoils. “Don’t fucking touch me right now.”

Right back to the nerd, who has switched into a t-shirt that just says ‘Hentai’.

“Snow and Rain were a delightful tandem. I personally was hoping they would dig deep against APEX and pull out the upset for the XWF Tag Titles.”

We cut back to Flynn who is clearly reading off a teleprompter so this fucking chapter will end.

“Unfortunately, they also forgot the match was happening and didn’t promote it.”

Cut to the nerd pervert, who is now shirtless. His chest is so pale, he’s almost translucent. Like a fucking tadpole.

“That’s a common misconception! Snow and Rain dropped a number of promos that cycle and I have them all saved on my computer.”

“They told a wonderful story where Snow tried to do laundry before the match and accidentally got stuck inside the washing machine and the only way Rain could get her out was with his pe-... You know what, I’ll just play it for you guys.”

He reaches down by his feet and retrieves his laptop out of his bag. Someone tries to stop him.

“No, no, I insist.”

Cut to the footage.

...

JK, we’re not fucking showing that.

But we do show the pervert sitting in the interviewee chair watching the clip on his laptop. He is heavily breathing and clearly very, very aroused. We can faintly make out the audio...

Quote:Snow: AH, BROTHER RAIN, I CAN’T SEEM TO GET OUT OF THIS WASHING MACHINE… WHAT… WHAT ARE YOU DOING? W-WAIT! BAKA! THAT’S NOT WHAT THE POWER CYCLE IS FOR… AHHH… AHHHHHHHH…

***AFTER THIS INTERVIEW, WE REPORTED THIS MAN TO THE FBI. HIS COMPUTER WAS FOUND TO BE LEGALLY HAUNTED AND SET ON FIRE***

Cut to Flynn, staring off in the middle distance. Thousand yard stare. Traumatized.

…

Flynn finally gasps back into this moment and his eyes find the camera. He has a single tear running down his face.

“Apex won the match and that’s all I want to say about it.”

Chapter 4: MDK and Bill Blakk

“So, it’s time for XWF Leap of Faith 2019. July 28th. APEX has been tag team champions for 195 days. They’ve defended the belts twice against two teams that probably shouldn’t have been competing at all. But Surely NOW, after the XWF had SIX AND A HALF MONTHS TO FIND A CONTENDER, they’ll actually face a team that will compete against them, right?”

Flynn takes another pause...

“These aren’t rhetorical questions, SOMEONE ANSWER ME!”

Cut to Flynn slightly calmer.

“MDK and Bill Blakk. Two men who in 2019 combined have a total of…” Flynn checks notes on his clipboard. “… 0 tag-team wins… and 0 singles wins...”

Flynn sighs.

“...Yeah, sure, give them a shot. On Pay Per View? Why not?”

“Bill Blakk was an XWF Legend in like… 1999? I don’t know, back when Centurion was relevant. So when XWF re-signed him to a contract, hopes were high. Then, he came back 120 pounds overweight and would come down to the ring with a cheeseburger in each hand. And the announce team had to be like ‘...Yeah! ...Bill Blakk!’.”

Quote:Steve Sayors: And here comes Bill Blakk! And he is… hungry for competition! He brought his trademark cheeseburgers to the ring, maybe this time he’ll give one to the audience… No. No, he’s trying to eat both at the same time. He’s a quarter of the way down the ramp… And he’s stopping, he’s getting winded. Looks like he’s taking a on-ramp cat nap, ladies and gents. The fans are pelting him with discarded food wrappers, perhaps that will stir him to action… No, now he’s just sucking the grease off the side of the bag. And I’m being told to cut to commercial.”

“And MDK… So, to his credit. For the first time in APEX’s title defense history, ONE of their opponents actually remembered the match was happening. One. And not until he was in the airport.”

“MDK cut a promo in the airport after his flight landed. It’s hard to take someone seriously about how they’re the future of the sport, when they’re standing in front of a Sunglass Hut, with a Cinnabun To-Go box in their hands.”

“MDK recorded that promo while his bags were still packed, because he was already out-the-door and ready to get fired by the XWF.”

“Which he was a month later.”

Chapter 5: Lux and Cent

“SO, HERE WE ARE. Day 229. Two days short of the tag-team championship all-time record… And zero good matches later. Finally, you think between Lux and Centurion… Wait, Centurion? Wasn’t he a member of APEX? We decided to investigate this possible conflict of interest!”

We cut to a man in glasses in a red sweater and slacks. He’s extraordinarily normal-looking.

“Hi! Yes, I’m Robert Danvers, I worked with the Fight Commission and Gaming Board. In 2019, we consulted with XWF to help find their opponents for Tag Team matches.”

Flynn sits across from Danvers, reading questions off an index card.

“We’ve noticed, APEX had three title defenses in about eight months, which was well below standard title defense schedules. Some may look back and ask why?”

Danvers clears his throat, awkwardly.

“Well…. It was very difficult to find tag-team opponents in 2019 that were in-shape, not incestuous and not already members of APEX. At the time, 85% of the XWF roster was a member of APEX. So, when we coordinated, brought in lawyers to look over fight contracts, we had to do background checks to verify that the attorneys weren’t members of APEX.”

Flynn nods sympathetically.

“That does sound difficult. Go on.”

“Anyway, when we pitched Lux & Centurion, someone had missed a background check on Cent, who fought with the rest of APEX at WarGames. We investigated the incident and it turned out our background specialist had to be sacked, he had become addicted to opiates. Which, of course, was a conflict of interest. Because that made him a member of APEX.”

Flynn shakes his head at the senseless folly of it all.

“It’s an epidemic in this country. 9.5 million Americans have a substance abuse disorder. And that means 9.5 million Americans are members of APEX.”

Cut to Flynn walking in a park as the camera follows him.

“So, APEX’s historic title reign has included three pairs where the team forgot the match was happening, and one match where both sides were APEX.”

He stops walking and shakes his head in disbelief.

“...And now we’re officially out of matches that APEX won as champions.”

Chapter 6: Oh My God, It’s Finally Over

“When a historic 8-month title reign ends… Even if the title defenses haven’t been memorable or even watchable… You hope that the moment the reign ends is a moment in-and-of-itself and people remember it as the changing of the guard and the start of a whole new era of Tag Team relevance.”

Flynn sucks his teeth dejectedly.

“Yeah...That doesn’t really happen, here.”

Flynn pulls up footage off the infamous APEX-Arm Collectors match where Apex’s historic reign ended.

Flynn pauses the clips just as Steve and Hanari lift their belts into the air, triumphing over APEX.

“I had so many questions after this match. Who the fuck is Steve Justice? What the fuck is a Hanari Carnes? What the fuck does ARM COLLECTORS mean?”

“These are questions that could have been answered if these people were tag champs longer than two weeks.”

“After 241 days, APEX loses the title to Steve Justice and Hanari Carnes. The only difference between these opponents and the last five is that Steve and Hanari owned a calendar and remembered to train for and promote the match. Once APEX faced opponents that didn’t show up disheveled and lost? They immediately dropped the belts.”

“...But not before enough time had passed that they were the longest reigning tag team champions of all-time.”

Flynn reaches into his pocket and retrieves…

A party streamer. He lifts it to his lips.



Flynn then rolls the party streamer back into his pocket. And twirls his finger in the air once.

Chapter 7: APEX Now

“APEX, this very month, is challenging for the current XWF Tag Titles. Held by two-time XWF World Champion and three-time tag champion Mark Flynn… and the undefeated-in-matches-where-you-don’t-have-to-save-a-suicidal-wolfman North Korean War Criminal.”

“APEX went on record to say that Flynn & NK were mediocre. And they beat Them No Good Bastards at their lowest point. And that they’ve only beaten one decent tag team.”

“...To which I reply: Beating one decent tag team is one more than APEX has done in four years.”

Flynn flips off the camera as the credits start rolling.

The scene fades to black.
]]> An eraser skitters across a chalkboard like a cockroach. The last message is erased.

“Okay. We’ve beaten the Greatest Tag Team in XWF History. That happened. It’s done.”

A stick of chalk taps impatiently onto a bottom lip.

“And now, because we lost a match that had nothing to do with wrestling and more to do with keeping a suicidal werewolf alive WHILE we had to kill a deathless vampire lord… I guess we’re over the hill?”

“Apparently, Mark Flynn. Even though we had to get on a shipping barge to Romania the same night we beat the Bastards, APEX seems to believe that’s proof we’re mediocre.”

“Even though we were wrestling while jet-lagged.”

“Barge-lagged, Mark Flynn.”

“We’re officially dead in the water, because we dropped a match against Betsy & Ly. The team that were deemed good enough to fight for the titles at the biggest Pay-Per-View of the year.”

"The team comprised of the current TV champion and the #1 contender for the Universal Title."

"Competing in a match that Jim couldn't get into with a fucking 24/7 Briefcase."

“Betsy Granger & Lycana... the only duo we’ve ever lost to in our history as a team.”

…

“Hey, could you google something for me, NK?”

“Absolutely, Mark Flynn.” NK whips out his Motorola Razr…

“What team did APEX lose to?”

NK’s thumbs quickly tap the keyboard on his 2003 flip phone. It chirps as the top result displays the truth.

“Steve Justice and Hanari Carnes.”

…

NK and Flynn both bust out laughing. The only thing that stops their glee at this irony is Flynn accidentally inhales a big cloud of chalk dust and starts hacking up a lung.

After everyone has calmed down, Flynn sighs in oxygen-based relief...

“All right, well, that talking point about us losing to Betsy & Ly is pretty dead. Considering APEX is responsible for BOTH the longest ever tag title reign AND giving the belts to the worst tag team champions in XWF history.”

“Yes, agreed, Mark Flynn. Jim Caedus’ single real talking point has been immediately disarmed.”

“Awesome. And what were Robert Main’s talking points?”

NK’s eyebrows raise.

“Something about APEX is the future and the future is APEX? How dominance dominates the indominant and mediocrity is mediocre? How on Earth should I know, Mark Flynn? He rambles like a lost elderly home resident trying to tell a Life Alert employee about how his grandson never calls anymore.”

Flynn laughs.

“Yeah, Rob definitely has a unique Grandpa Simpson vibe to his promos.”

“Robert Main is so dull, he makes Steve Davids’ promos look watchable.”

Flynn hikes up his tights up above his belly button to achieve that old man aesthetic.

“I used to be the Champion for belts that no longer exist! Now, back then, championship belts had pictures of bumblebees on them! Which was the style at the time!”

NK guffaws and retrieves from his pocket a pair of reading glasses, which he pretends to fumble, adjusting the spectacles onto his eyes…

“Now, back in my day, we didn’t have briefcases! The only way we could get universal title shots was to trade bags of onions down by the CRICK, Mark Flynn! It was the Depression Era you see!”

“As in the time that APEX was considered the best tag team. The most depressing era in XWF tag team history.”

“Leave it to Robert Main to say in 4800 words what a better speaker could say in ten.”

Flynn and NK bump fists. Flynn drops his tights back to his waist and NK gently returns his reading glasses to his pocket.

“All right. Let’s focus up. We need to answer the big question: What are APEX’s weaknesses?”

NK sits down at one of the desks in the classroom and raises his hand.

“Yes, you. The student in the front.”

“Their recruiting department will take anyone in? Even fucking Drew Archyle?”

Flynn guffaws, before covering his mouth and shaking his head.

“Okay, hold up on the roasts for a sec. We’re doing that bit where we actually strategize and plan against our opponents. Y’know? That thing that only we seem to do.”

“Gee, almost as if we were athletes preparing for an important event.”

“Okay, so… Jim and Robert.”

Flynn sketches their names on the board.

“Now, APEX is a diverse pair... of speakers. Jim talks like if he doesn’t say 120 words a minute, the bus he’s driving will explode.”

“And Robert Main speaks as if people enjoy hearing him talk.”

“Clearly, they’re both out-of-touch with reality.”

Flynn taps his nose, before writing under each’s name.

“However, their in-ring styles have a ton of overlap…”

Flynn writes out word-for-word Jim’s in-ring style…

Quote:A mental force of will that defies all obstacles... A level of biological toughness that has allowed Jim to survive anything... A temper can turn Jim from Cool to Crazy in a heartbeat

Then he does the same for Robert’s…

Quote:High endurance level... high pain threshhold, very hands on, Suplex master... Over-Aggressive

“As you can see, their whole shtick is… exactly the fuckin’ same. They’re both ‘highly durable’, ‘technical wrestlers’ with ‘mean streaks’ that can get ‘overly aggressive’. Pretty much the same guy. Except the first is voiced by Larry the Cable Guy and the second is voiced by a guy that took Prozac advertised by Larry the Cable Guy.”

NK’s brow scrunches thoughtfully.

“Indeed, Mark Flynn. They are very similar in the ring. And both very capable.”

Flynn shakes his head.

“That’s not the point, NK. Rob and Jim are solid SINGLES wrestlers. And they dominated the division for almost a calendar year, because of how good they are… at SINGLES wrestling.”

“But, Jim and Rob as a tag team play the exact same role in the ring. Which means they bring their strengths to the table, but without any variety to cover their weaknesses.”

It’s like putting two quarterbacks on the field. Or drafting a basketball team with five centers!”

NK nods, suddenly completely understanding!

“Or like WarGames Team, Dis-Continuum!”

NK springs out of his chair… Or he tries to, he kinda gets caught on that weird metal bit that you have to step over to sit down. Why is that even there?

But he eventually makes it to the chalkboard.

“Thaddeus Duke had a significant advantage going into WarGames. Not only did he win the Captain’s Match and have the edge in morale… He also had the chance to select 1st, 12th and 13th on the board. The best possible draft slots for any captain.”

“Exactly, NK. And Thad dropped the ball. He picked Dock, Chris Chaos and Andre Dixon. Three idiots that spent more time trashing each other and calling each other cannon fodder than developing a team strategy.”

NK shakes his head.

“But even more so, Mark Flynn! Thaddeus Duke drafted the same wrestling style thrice!”

NK draws three little cartoon faces, one for each non-Thad member of the team.

“DOCK is a desperate scrapper, resorting to biting, punching and kicking to break down more technical defenses. Andre Dixon is a self-described ‘thug’ focusing on UFC style strikes to create openings for his higher-impact moves…”

Flynn snaps his fingers, vibing on NK’s point.

“And Chris Chaos’ whole fighting background is football, boxing and UFC! Shit, you’re right, NK! Thad basically picked three brawling punchy guys that all played the exact same position on the field.”

“And despite the amount of talent in his corner, Team Thaddeus Duke not only failed in the first round, they lost by a margin of two whole men!”

“Because just like APEX, when you've grabbed duplicate tools, you’ve got no versatility in your tool kit.”

Flynn grins like he’s found the secret to turn straw into gold.

“Jim and Rob are bringing a bag full of hammers to a screw-turning contest. What a pair of buffoons.”

“They fail to see the vision of True Korea! They fail to shed their individuality and embrace their whole as a part of something greater: THE COLLECTIVE!”

Flynn rolls his eyes.

“All right, all right, bring it down a notch, Karl Marx. I see your point. We wrestle different, complementary styles. And Jim and Rob don’t.”

“Exactly so, Mark Flynn! You are a wrestling virtuoso and brilliant strategist, while I am a flawless athlete and a mental warfare master. We both circumvent the rules, but with different ethoses. We are effectively peanut butter and jelly.”

“And Jim and Rob are two handfuls of tapioca.”

Flynn taps his nose.

“So, we just need to come in with a game plan to abuse the hole in both of their games… and they’ll fall like dominos in a row.”

“And their weakness is, of course…?”

Flynn points the chalk towards NK.

NK blinks, one eye at a time, hesitant.

Flynn writes out one word in bud letters all the way across the board:

TEMPER.

“Jim and Rob are two short-fuses.”

“Yes, hence their ‘mean streaks’. Don’t make them angry. You wouldn’t like them when they’re angry.”

“And yet, that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”

Flynn writes under temper words like ‘INFURIATE’, ‘ENRAGE’, ‘EXACERBATE’, and ‘TROLL’.

NK bites his lip.

“Mark Flynn, is this the best strategy?”

Flynn smiles like a madman who’s found sanity.

“This is the only viable strategy, NK! This IS the Optimal Path!”

“We’re going to wage asymmetrical mental warfare against APEX. They’re planning on coming in and putting on a show. They’ve said Bad Medicine is where they plan on establishing their new reign of dominance, blah blah, what Rob Main said, blah.”

“They don’t plan on just beating us. They plan on making an example of us! They want to look dominant and macho and STRONG at all costs! And we’re going to block them at every turn!”

Flynn draws a ring, and sketches arrows pointing out of it. He draws the ropes and arrows toward them.

“We’re going to create distance when they start rolling! We’re going to grab the ropes whenever they chain moves together… We’re going to do everything in our power to slam the brakes on their show whenever they try to get it off the ground.”

“And they’re going to get so fucking mad…. They’re going to start making little mistakes. Then, those little mistakes will compound into bigger ones… And that’s how we take down the mighty APEX. A sea of Unforced errors and flawless execution.”

Flynn writes a ‘Q.E.D.’ on the board. He’s actually breathing heavily. He’s so excited he’s found a plan, his heart is racing just thinking about it.

NK walks up beside Flynn, eyeballing his outlines thoughtfully.

“Now…”

Flynn looks NK in the eyes.

“This plan depends on you.”

NK’s eyebrow raises again.

"Me, Mark Flynn?"

“You know that thing you do where you’re a giant fucking asshole?”

“...I’d rather refer to it as ‘I wage psychological warfare’.”

“Yeah that… You’re gonna have to be that. But 125%.”

"You're going to annoy. You're going to provoke."

Flynn shakes his head, clearly not the most amped about this last part...

"And you're going to do the thing that pisses them off the most: You're going to cheat."

Flynn claps NK on the shoulder.

“Think you can pull it off?”

NK scoffs.

“Pull it off?”

…

He sneers with a sadistic glee.

“Mark Flynn. I was BORN for this.”

***
Several hours later, the chalkboard is full of plans. Diagrams of counter-moves to APEX’s offensive trademarks…

Thunder Kracker? Partner #1 trips one powerbomber, while the other powerbomber ends up in a hurricanrana from Partner #2…

Lightning Strike? Partner #1 Deadweight the Omega Suplex, while Partner #2 crotches Jim on the turnbuckle…

The Gallows? Partner #1 tilts backwards to throw off Omega’s weight, while Partner #2 runs interference on Jimmy, catching him mid-run with a chop block…

The plan to piss APEX off is in place.

Flynn and NK nod and fist bump.

“So, now, Mark Flynn? Is NOW the time to set our opponents ablaze verbally?”

Flynn clicks his tongue.

“I’ve been thinking, NK. The more pissed-off APEX is going into this match, the better off we’ll be.”

“Agreed, Mark Flynn.”

“So… What’s the best way to really grind the gears of a team like APEX? To be the tinfoil wrapped around their teeth? These motherfuckers are so in love with their own accomplishments, their legacy of accolades... They can’t stop fucking talking about how they're the most dominant tag team of all-time.”

“Haha, indeed. So… what do you suggest?”

Flynn cackles.

“We’re going to fucking deep-dive into APEX’s historic longest tag title reign.”

“And we’re going to make it clear that the emperors of XWF’s Tag Team Division.”

“Aren’t wearing any fucking clothes…”

***

An empty chair sits in a film studio. After a few moments, a man in a suit and tie walks from behind the camera and sits down…

It’s Mark Flynn. He looks somber and thoughtful. It’s clear that athletic achievement is one of the few things he takes seriously.

After a thoughtful moment, he looks up.

“Sometimes you look at a record set in a sport and you wonder how it was possible. How a human being dug deep enough to do something no one had ever done before.”

“The XWF has a number of such records…”

“The Brand’s Lifetime Record of 42 and 0.”

“Thaddeus Duke becoming XWF Universal Champion at the age of 21 years, 11 months, and 4 days.”

Flynn nods, then chews on his lip.

“Another XWF record that has stood for a number of years now is APEX’s Tag Team Title Reign of 241 days.”

“Some may ask, wow, how could a tag team hold onto their title belts for 241 days?”

“...”

“It’s pretty easy when everyone else sucks for 8 months.”



[Image: WsDpWJP.png]

“APEX is one of the most celebrated stables in XWF History and its membership is very exclusive. Its personnel consists only of Jim Caedus, Robert Main and Drew Archyle…”

[Image: sfHB62I.jpg]

“And Ned Kaye. And James Raven. And Centurion.”

[Image: 3hnaCW3.jpg]



…

“And Momma Main. And Oliver Main. Cousin Oliver from the Brady Bunch. The Entire Population of Duluth, Minnesota. Every American currently addicted to meth.”

[Image: vgEAA3N.jpg]

When we cut back from the graphics, we see Flynn with a number of charts and qualifications. He’s got on a pair of reading glasses.

“If you were hired by the XWF in 2019, you’re a member of APEX.”

Flynn stands up and taps on his knees.

“If your knees pop when you stand up sometimes, you’re a member of APEX.”

“For this documentary, I made a call to APEX HQ, headquartered out of the trailer park Robert Main calls his home to ask what the application process was like to join APEX.”

“The guy on the other end asked me, Are you NOT Chris Page?”

“I told him I was not…”

Flynn takes off his glasses and looks into the camera.

“And now I’M A MEMBER OF APEX.”

After this dramatic reveal, Flynn slips his reading glasses back on.

“Regardless, you can’t deny that the two most prominent members of APEX are… Jim Caedus and Robert Main.”

“Robert Main, who wrestles four matches a year nowadays, three of which are always against Chris Page…”

“Robert Main, who fucking should look up what ‘Omega’ means and learn it literally means ‘Last Fucking Place’. Which is just too fucking on the nose.”

“Robert Main, who hasn’t held a fucking title in this company for almost a year and a half, despite many, many opportunities…”

“And Jim Caedus.”

The film briefly cuts to a still image of NK’s smiling face.

“Before we do this… You know we love you, Jim Caedus. <3”

Right back to Flynn.

“Jim Caedus, who won a 24/7 briefcase and is still somehow third in line for the Universal Title.”

“Jim Caedus, apparently such ticket sales poison that XWF management REFUSED to let him challenge for the belt because they can’t afford to lose so many asses in seats.”

Suddenly, NK leans into the frame over Flynn’s shoulder.

“I made appearances in half of Comrade Alias’ promos this week. Which means I’m closer to the main event than fucking Jim Caedus.”

“Caedus, you want to talk about how we’re not over? You couldn’t draw water from a fucking well, Jimmy.”

“Jim Caedus, you couldn’t draw fans with a pencil and paper.”

“Jim, my boy, you couldn’t draw fucking breath without Main’s name above yours on the card.”

NK waves his hand up and down, blowing on the metaphorical flames off it.

“Salacious, Mark Flynn! Simply devastating!”

NK hops off camera. Flynn resumes his sportscasting character.

“But, despite how fucking awful these two losers are… They were just barely better than literally everyone else competing for the tag belts. Which… wasn’t many people in 2019.”

Chapter 1: Winning the Belts

“The XWF Tag Titles have long been a way to honor the greatest tag teams in the company.”

“Like when Robbie Bourbon and Scully became the champs by… finding the belts in the trash.”

“Of course, the XWF Tag Titles have always been legitimate. If they weren’t legit, why would Peter Gilmour be a 7-Time Tag Champ?”

Flynn’s eyes suddenly widen in horror.

“...Wait, don’t use th-”

Jump Cut to Flynn walking on at a basketball court.

“On the January 16th Warfare, APEX was vying for the Tag Team Championship, facing two-time Tag Champions, The Midnight Dolls, Jessamyn Hart and Vita Valentine.”

“Or Valenteen. However you say her name. The fucking vampire.”

“Vita Valentine, who also became a two-time Television champion, by losing the belts immediately twice in a row. And Jessamyn Hart, who when reached out to be interviewed for this documentary, tried to sell me ‘slightly soiled’ LuLaRoe leggings.”

We cut to a picture of the shit-stained Lula LaRoe leggings Jessamyn Hart is trying to hawk to anyone that will take them.

“So, Jessamyn Hart is awful and Vita can’t hold onto a belt for longer than two weeks. Of course, APEX, a semi-functional tag team, won the titles.”

“And now that a real tag team has the belts, that means real tag teams will rise up to combat them, right?”

Flynn pauses. Then shakes his head no.

Chapter 2: A Nazi and a Cult Leader

“The next time APEX would defend their belts would be March 31st at XWF March Madness.”

We cut to an old man in the interviewee chair. The placard under him reads ‘XWF Fan Whose Heyday was 2019’.

“You see, nowadays, you youngins expect a tag title match every month! Back in my day, back in 2019, we had a title match every three or four months and we were GRATEFUL! Those matches kept us warm in the winter months as we ate mud! And you better hope that you could work overtime at the child salt mines, otherwise you couldn’t put any salt on your mud!”

We cut back to Flynn.

“APEX, who before defending their title for the first time, had already held the title for 74 days… Were now facing NAZI and Eli James IV.”

“Now, to be clear, this was a viable opposing team... On paper. Eli James was a former Universal champ and NAZI…”

The screen suddenly shifts to an informational title card:

Quote:[The XWF in conjunction with ESPN would prefer to not say anything about NAZI. Rather than remove our content with NAZI, we want to acknowledge his harmful impact, learn from it and spark conversation to create a more inclusive future together. XWF is committed to creating stories with inspirational and aspirational themes that reflect the rich diversity of the human experience around the globe, except nazis, cuz yeah, no.]

Back to Mark Flynn.

“Anyway, they would have been a very good first challenge for APEX…”

“...”

“If they remembered they were competing.”

“You have to remember it was 2019. Eli James was getting his new megachurch off the ground in Houston, selling copies of his book, Listen to Your Heart as Long as Your Heart Says What I Say. He had invested a lot of money into Kool-Aid which, we all know how that’s going to turn out.”

“And NAZI… had taken some time to pursue his new career as Trump’s Secretary of Fighting Indiana Jones.”

“So, APEX cruised to a victory over terrible opponents. But, there’s no reason to think that’s going to be a theme for their whole record-setting title run, right?”

Flynn pauses… Then rubs the bridge of his nose sighing.

Chapter 3: Snow and Rain

Suddenly, Flynn’s eyes go wide. He stands up and picks up the chair behind him, readying it for a swing.

“Oh fuck. Don’t make me talk about Snow and Rain. You can’t make me. I won’t d-”

We cut to a giant obese nerd wearing bifocals and a Sailor Moon t-shirt.

“Hello! I’m the world’s foremost expert on the former XWF Tag Team, Snow and Rain. I’ve seen every one of their matches and every one of their promos. And before you ask, yes, it is because of the incest.”

Cut to a man with a headset sitting in the chair. His title placard reads ‘XWF Production Assistant from 2019 (Currently in Therapy)’.

“Snow and Rain were a tag team that worked for the XWF. Because the CEO was going through a really weird time and we just decided to… not to talk about it.” He suddenly presses his face into his hands, weeping aloud. Someone goes to comfort him. He recoils. “Don’t fucking touch me right now.”

Right back to the nerd, who has switched into a t-shirt that just says ‘Hentai’.

“Snow and Rain were a delightful tandem. I personally was hoping they would dig deep against APEX and pull out the upset for the XWF Tag Titles.”

We cut back to Flynn who is clearly reading off a teleprompter so this fucking chapter will end.

“Unfortunately, they also forgot the match was happening and didn’t promote it.”

Cut to the nerd pervert, who is now shirtless. His chest is so pale, he’s almost translucent. Like a fucking tadpole.

“That’s a common misconception! Snow and Rain dropped a number of promos that cycle and I have them all saved on my computer.”

“They told a wonderful story where Snow tried to do laundry before the match and accidentally got stuck inside the washing machine and the only way Rain could get her out was with his pe-... You know what, I’ll just play it for you guys.”

He reaches down by his feet and retrieves his laptop out of his bag. Someone tries to stop him.

“No, no, I insist.”

Cut to the footage.

...

JK, we’re not fucking showing that.

But we do show the pervert sitting in the interviewee chair watching the clip on his laptop. He is heavily breathing and clearly very, very aroused. We can faintly make out the audio...

Quote:Snow: AH, BROTHER RAIN, I CAN’T SEEM TO GET OUT OF THIS WASHING MACHINE… WHAT… WHAT ARE YOU DOING? W-WAIT! BAKA! THAT’S NOT WHAT THE POWER CYCLE IS FOR… AHHH… AHHHHHHHH…

***AFTER THIS INTERVIEW, WE REPORTED THIS MAN TO THE FBI. HIS COMPUTER WAS FOUND TO BE LEGALLY HAUNTED AND SET ON FIRE***

Cut to Flynn, staring off in the middle distance. Thousand yard stare. Traumatized.

…

Flynn finally gasps back into this moment and his eyes find the camera. He has a single tear running down his face.

“Apex won the match and that’s all I want to say about it.”

Chapter 4: MDK and Bill Blakk

“So, it’s time for XWF Leap of Faith 2019. July 28th. APEX has been tag team champions for 195 days. They’ve defended the belts twice against two teams that probably shouldn’t have been competing at all. But Surely NOW, after the XWF had SIX AND A HALF MONTHS TO FIND A CONTENDER, they’ll actually face a team that will compete against them, right?”

Flynn takes another pause...

“These aren’t rhetorical questions, SOMEONE ANSWER ME!”

Cut to Flynn slightly calmer.

“MDK and Bill Blakk. Two men who in 2019 combined have a total of…” Flynn checks notes on his clipboard. “… 0 tag-team wins… and 0 singles wins...”

Flynn sighs.

“...Yeah, sure, give them a shot. On Pay Per View? Why not?”

“Bill Blakk was an XWF Legend in like… 1999? I don’t know, back when Centurion was relevant. So when XWF re-signed him to a contract, hopes were high. Then, he came back 120 pounds overweight and would come down to the ring with a cheeseburger in each hand. And the announce team had to be like ‘...Yeah! ...Bill Blakk!’.”

Quote:Steve Sayors: And here comes Bill Blakk! And he is… hungry for competition! He brought his trademark cheeseburgers to the ring, maybe this time he’ll give one to the audience… No. No, he’s trying to eat both at the same time. He’s a quarter of the way down the ramp… And he’s stopping, he’s getting winded. Looks like he’s taking a on-ramp cat nap, ladies and gents. The fans are pelting him with discarded food wrappers, perhaps that will stir him to action… No, now he’s just sucking the grease off the side of the bag. And I’m being told to cut to commercial.”

“And MDK… So, to his credit. For the first time in APEX’s title defense history, ONE of their opponents actually remembered the match was happening. One. And not until he was in the airport.”

“MDK cut a promo in the airport after his flight landed. It’s hard to take someone seriously about how they’re the future of the sport, when they’re standing in front of a Sunglass Hut, with a Cinnabun To-Go box in their hands.”

“MDK recorded that promo while his bags were still packed, because he was already out-the-door and ready to get fired by the XWF.”

“Which he was a month later.”

Chapter 5: Lux and Cent

“SO, HERE WE ARE. Day 229. Two days short of the tag-team championship all-time record… And zero good matches later. Finally, you think between Lux and Centurion… Wait, Centurion? Wasn’t he a member of APEX? We decided to investigate this possible conflict of interest!”

We cut to a man in glasses in a red sweater and slacks. He’s extraordinarily normal-looking.

“Hi! Yes, I’m Robert Danvers, I worked with the Fight Commission and Gaming Board. In 2019, we consulted with XWF to help find their opponents for Tag Team matches.”

Flynn sits across from Danvers, reading questions off an index card.

“We’ve noticed, APEX had three title defenses in about eight months, which was well below standard title defense schedules. Some may look back and ask why?”

Danvers clears his throat, awkwardly.

“Well…. It was very difficult to find tag-team opponents in 2019 that were in-shape, not incestuous and not already members of APEX. At the time, 85% of the XWF roster was a member of APEX. So, when we coordinated, brought in lawyers to look over fight contracts, we had to do background checks to verify that the attorneys weren’t members of APEX.”

Flynn nods sympathetically.

“That does sound difficult. Go on.”

“Anyway, when we pitched Lux & Centurion, someone had missed a background check on Cent, who fought with the rest of APEX at WarGames. We investigated the incident and it turned out our background specialist had to be sacked, he had become addicted to opiates. Which, of course, was a conflict of interest. Because that made him a member of APEX.”

Flynn shakes his head at the senseless folly of it all.

“It’s an epidemic in this country. 9.5 million Americans have a substance abuse disorder. And that means 9.5 million Americans are members of APEX.”

Cut to Flynn walking in a park as the camera follows him.

“So, APEX’s historic title reign has included three pairs where the team forgot the match was happening, and one match where both sides were APEX.”

He stops walking and shakes his head in disbelief.

“...And now we’re officially out of matches that APEX won as champions.”

Chapter 6: Oh My God, It’s Finally Over

“When a historic 8-month title reign ends… Even if the title defenses haven’t been memorable or even watchable… You hope that the moment the reign ends is a moment in-and-of-itself and people remember it as the changing of the guard and the start of a whole new era of Tag Team relevance.”

Flynn sucks his teeth dejectedly.

“Yeah...That doesn’t really happen, here.”

Flynn pulls up footage off the infamous APEX-Arm Collectors match where Apex’s historic reign ended.

Flynn pauses the clips just as Steve and Hanari lift their belts into the air, triumphing over APEX.

“I had so many questions after this match. Who the fuck is Steve Justice? What the fuck is a Hanari Carnes? What the fuck does ARM COLLECTORS mean?”

“These are questions that could have been answered if these people were tag champs longer than two weeks.”

“After 241 days, APEX loses the title to Steve Justice and Hanari Carnes. The only difference between these opponents and the last five is that Steve and Hanari owned a calendar and remembered to train for and promote the match. Once APEX faced opponents that didn’t show up disheveled and lost? They immediately dropped the belts.”

“...But not before enough time had passed that they were the longest reigning tag team champions of all-time.”

Flynn reaches into his pocket and retrieves…

A party streamer. He lifts it to his lips.



Flynn then rolls the party streamer back into his pocket. And twirls his finger in the air once.

Chapter 7: APEX Now

“APEX, this very month, is challenging for the current XWF Tag Titles. Held by two-time XWF World Champion and three-time tag champion Mark Flynn… and the undefeated-in-matches-where-you-don’t-have-to-save-a-suicidal-wolfman North Korean War Criminal.”

“APEX went on record to say that Flynn & NK were mediocre. And they beat Them No Good Bastards at their lowest point. And that they’ve only beaten one decent tag team.”

“...To which I reply: Beating one decent tag team is one more than APEX has done in four years.”

Flynn flips off the camera as the credits start rolling.

The scene fades to black.
]]> <![CDATA[Green Haven: RP #3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42313 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 21:18:25 -0800 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42313
Woolworth Tower || Tribeca – New York City || 3:23 PM

This morning, all of us slept in a bit later than normal. Last night, by the time I made it back to my room with Adi, it was past 4 in the morning and she’d understandably gone back to sleep. By then though, I really wasn’t “in the mood” as it was. After waking up, it was like last night didn’t even happen. Frankie was happy and playing with Minkah. Adi was plugging away on her script. And I was packing Frankie up for his trip to North Carolina. When he comes home in a couple weeks, I think I’ll make it a point to lay out some ground rules and allow his pup in the room with him at bed time.

Anytime he goes away, I put on a brave face. I keep a smile on my face and I laugh and joke like I normally do but the honest truth is it guts me. I don’t feel whole without him. There’s a sadness and a darkness that is present when he’s not. I don’t know what any of it means and I certainly don’t let the viewers know that for the sake of gaining empathy or sympathy. I’ve always been the kind of guy that’s worn my heart on my sleeve and good, bad or indifferent, I’ve always just been me. Whether the fans of the XWF love me or hate me, it’s never been me that’s changed.

I’ve stayed exactly the same. The difference being, now that they’ve decided that Thaddeus Duke is someone to loathe and detest, I make it a point to figurative drive a stake into each of their worthless hearts whenever we’re together.

Except here in New York.

They still love me here.

Frankie and I are in the elevator on the way down to the ground floor. I try really hard to hold back what I’m feeling. My head pounds from the inside out as I force the sadness to stay off my face. You know the feeling, it’s almost like sinus pressure.

”I still don’t want to go,” Frankie says quietly as the elevator slows to a stop. With a ding the doors slide open and he and I make our way through the lobby toward the Broadway entrance.

”Yeah I know, but T.J. and Caty need to have you around more than you have been,” I say to the boy. ”They need their big brother.”

”I know,” he says, defeated. ”But I need you right now.”

Little jerk!

”Listen to me,” I say to him with tears welling in my eyes. Stopping about ten feet from the doors I drop to my knees and spin him around to look at me. ”There’s nothing I want more in this world, than you being with me all the time.

“You know that.

“But I need you to be strong,” I say to him as I fix the collar on his jacket. ”I need you to be a big brother right now.”

”I can’t stop thinking about Keith,” he says with tears welling in his own eyes.

”Stop worrying about him Frankie,” I say as I wipe a tear from his eye. ”You let me handle that. Keith Rickle will not be problem for us, okay?”

He nods as over his shoulder, Elizabeth’s Ford Bronco pulls up at the curb.

”Your mom’s here,” I tell him and he wraps his arms around my neck. Hugging him back tightly, I kiss his cheek and start for the door. Outside, Liz opens the back door and I shove Frankie aside for a moment.

”Hey Thad,” she says warmly.

”Hi, move,” I tell her and jump inside the Bronco to see my other babies.

”He doesn’t want to leave you I assume,” Liz says as I play with a laughing and giggling T.J. and Caty while she looks at a sniffling Frankie.

”Don’t be offended,” I answer while playing with the twins. ”It’s not you.”

”Why don’t you wanna come with me?” she asks of Frankie, entirely ignoring what I just said.

”Keith,” he answers quietly.

”Your dad?”

From the sidewalk, he point at me. ”That’s my dad.”

”What’s going on?” she asks worriedly.

”Tell you in a minute,” I say as I make my way out of the car. Taking Frankie’s suitcase, I toss it in the back of the car before turning my attention to the boy. ”You know the drill buddy,” I tell him while kneeling down to his level. ”Any time, day or night you can call me. Face Time me. Zoom. Whatever you want, whenever you need it.

“I always have time for you.”

”I know,” he says quietly.

”Stop being sad, stop worrying about Keith.”

”It’s a little easier to say it than to do it.”

True.

”I know, but I need you to trust me and have faith that I’ll handle it,” I plead with him. ”Have I ever let you down?”

”Well, there was that one time you let Mufasa eat my first puppy,” he says with a little bit of a smile.

”I should’ve never told you that,” I say to the boy. ”Besides, I didn’t let him eat your puppy. It just happened.” To be clear, Frankie wasn’t home and he didn’t even know he had a puppy before the lion decided he’d make a good snack. Whatever else Mufasa is, he’s still a lion. You don’t interfere with feeding time if you like having both arms.

After exchanging last hugs and ‘I love you’s’, Frankie climbs into the Bronco and buckles in. After closing the door, I turn around right into Liz’s ‘we need to talk’ look.

It’s always been unsettling.

It still is.

”What’s going on with Keith?” she asks.

”He’s lawyered up and he’s appealing his conviction,” I answer.

”Everyone appeals their convictions, that’s not such a big deal,” she argues.

”No, but Robert is telling me that from what he’s hearing, Keith stands a pretty good shot at winning a new trial and if that happens, all bets are off.”

”He really might get out?”

”I don’t know, but if his case is strong enough to be granted a new trial, then it’s probably easier to see a scenario in which he gets exonerated.”

”Damn,” she says quietly. ”What are you gonna do about it?”

”Whatever it fuckin’ takes,” I say with a wink.

She nods, knowingly.

”After Bad Medicine, I’ll be goin’ to Egypt for a few days,” I tell her. ”Never been to Egypt but when I get back… we need to talk about what I told you months ago.”

”You’ll have to be more specific,” she says with a smile. ”You tell me a lot of things.”

”What we fought about the day I buried my mother.”

”Mother fucker,” she says with an angry smile. ” You really...”

”It’s not what you think...”

”...have SOME nerve...”

”Liz...”

”...to DEMAND of me...”

”STOP,” I say to her, grabbing her by both shoulders. ”I’m not making you do it.”

She falls quiet as she stares into my eyes.

”What changed your mind?”

”I just think that,” I pause while arranging the words in my head. ”I just want them to be able to lead some kind of normal lives.”

”Is that even possible?”

”I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.”

”So does that mean you’re gonna call off your surveillance?”

”Not a chance,” I answer her honestly.

”Really?” she utters with a dejected sigh. ”You have any idea how difficult it is to...”

”I don’t care about that Liz,” I interrupt. ”You’re a grown woman. You can date and sleep with whomever you want. But my people need to know who they are because… well… my kids are still my kids. Being who they are is still very dangerous.

“Six months old or sixty years old, it’s dangerous.”

”It’s such an invasion of privacy,” she protests.

”I know it is, and I’m sorry it has to be that way, but it has to be that way. They know exactly who they are before they even make it to your front door. There hasn’t been a viable threat yet so, I don’t know what you’re really worried about.”

”What happens if they do find someone suspicious, or think someone might be a threat?”

”Then they’ll never make it to your front door and I suppose you’ll be very thankful that they didn’t make it into the house where our kids sleep.”

Food for thought I guess.

For the most part, Liz and I have remained on very good terms. Though our friendship has fallen quiet since I’ve been with Adi. I have a tendency to push buttons that needn’t be pushed and well… I’m not pushing those ones.

After exchanging final pleasantries and goodbye’s, Liz and all my children are on the road back to North Carolina. Standing the curb, I wait for my car to arrive. While doing so, I put my hood up and peruse Twitter.

Cashe and Atara just went to Splitsville.

Lovely.

I guess it’s just me and Adi for Thanksgiving.

I can think of much worse.

Putting my phone away, the car pulls up and I take a seat in the back next to my business manager Chris Page.

”You don’t look happy,” he says as the car pulls onto Broadway.

”I’m not really,” I admit to him. ”I got a whole lot goin’ on in my personal life and I just sent Frankie to North Carolina for a couple weeks.”

Unsure how he’s supposed to react, Chris remains silent.

”I hate when he leaves,” I say quietly while staring out the passenger window. ”He leaves and… there’s a big fucking void and nothing can fill it.”

”Not even this?” he asks with a grin while showing me what’s on his phone.

”You get that done, then I guess you earned your fifteen percent of my paycheck,” I say with a bit of a smile.

”15% ain’t nothin’ Thad,” he replies.

”It is when it’s 15% of my money,” I argue with a smile.

”I guess it helps that it’s your uncle signing those checks.”

”Everyone thinks I’m blowin’ smoke,” I say in reference to the money. ”Inflating numbers and boostin’ my own ego.

“Truth is, I undersell the shit out of it.”

”You talked to your dad?” he asks, switching topics on a dime.

”I haven’t talked to him since I kicked him in face,” I reply, referring to Relentless. ”You get that other thing done?”

”About the match?”

I nod in response.

”Progress has been slow, but it’ll get done by match time.”

”Good,” I say as a smile starts to grow. ”Paul probably would’ve had it done by now.”

That should chap his ass a bit.

Chris stares at me from behind his sunglasses.

”Say what you want about him, but when Paul was talkin’ business, they gave in because he wouldn’t shut up until they did.

“There’s some value there.”

”Where we headed anyways?”


It’s interesting, isn’t it? Corey and I go back a long time and we’ve certainly both taken a big ole trip in the Wayback Machine, haven’t we?

So let’s do this one more time. And, I only bring this up because he legitimately sat there and tried to chastise me for not being there for him when things were happening to him that I had no control over, things I was not privy to in advance, and while I was fighting a war.

A different war than this Ares Project thing, but still a war.

I was a good friend to Corey Smith. Was I the best friend I could’ve been? Probably not. But I don’t blame him for things he couldn’t control. I don’t blame him for things happening to me that he didn’t know about. I didn’t blame him for not once putting on some fatigues, a helmet and some body armor to help me in my war efforts.

For what it’s worth, I’d have never asked him to and had he offered, I’d have denied him.

But why is any of this important? Why is his life story and my life story so important when neither of us could really step in and save the day for the other?

Because he had a chance to and he blew it. He blew it, like he blew his television title reign, that I constantly harp on despite only mentioning it, including this time: twice. He blew it, like he blew the 24/7 briefcase opportunity. He blew it… because… it isn’t what he wanted.

So, what does that mean and what am I talking about?

You know those tag straps we talk about so much? You know how I won them with Doc D’Ville and NOT Corey Smith despite invoking Freebird Rules after the fact which gave Corey a freebie tag belt?

Corey Smith was supposed to be my partner.

Okay, so ‘supposed’ is used a little loosely, but the fact is I asked him to team with me to go beat Cataclysm. It should have been Corey Smith in that match and not Doc D’Ville and I already know the Corey Smith Innocence Project would try and tear this one apart. I know the sympathizers are already trying to argue up that he wasn’t ready.

Corey wasn’t yet back from his stroke.

True.

Corey was however, promoting the battle royal for the Universal title.

So what does that mean, class?

It means, that even if he wasn’t quite ready, he was damn close. It means that even if he wasn’t quite ready, he would be by High Stakes 2020 and therefore could easily have been my partner that night, but he told me no. He told me no because… he wasn’t willing to do for me what I’ve been willing to do for my friends.

Case in point, he can ask our sister Dolly Waters.

Go ahead Corey… ask her what I did for her when she was being tormented by Micheal Graves.

Ask her what I sacrificed of myself in order to help her… in order to protect her…

Right after our debut match as a tag team, I kicked her in her face and it fucking broke me to do it, Corey. I betrayed everything I stood for in order to help her. I aligned myself with the likes of Robert Main and Chris oh my god I’m gonna vomit Chaos… to help her. I joined AX3 for a very brief period in order to learn what their plan was for Graves’ archnemesis- Dolly Waters. I endured the mockery and humiliation, I endured the boos and the hatred from the fans I once loved and adored.

So, the Waters/Graves feud reaches its climax and I reveal to the world that I never actually betrayed my friend and my sister Dolly Waters. And I took a four on one beat down for it and you know what? I’d do it all again because there’s not a thing I won’t do for those I love.

He’s said that he loved me.

Maybe part of him still does.

I’ll admit that there’s part of me that still loves him too.

But there comes a time, people, when you have to take off the rose colored Corey Smith glasses and see him for what he really is and that’s not anyone’s friend. Corey Smith is a self centered, self important asshole that doesn’t do anything unless it benefits him. I’ve taken off my Corey glasses and I do see him for what he is and what he’s always been.

It’s time you all did the same because when you do, you’ll see the fraud that he’s been perpetrating against the XWF Universe since the moment he came back here.

He has the audacity to sit there and paint me as a liar and attempt to drag me through the mud claiming I’m the evilest of all the evils because it was Doc as my partner and not him.

He had his chance.

I asked.

He said no.

Why did he say no?

Is it really because he wasn’t well enough yet?

He outlasted everyone but me in the battle royal and it wasn’t exactly filled with the Schism’s of the XWF was it?

If he was well enough to accomplish that much, he was well enough to be my friend, to be my brother, to put himself at risk to help me beat Cataclysm when he sat in his room and watched them try and end my career just two months earlier.

He knew I needed the help.

He knew I needed someone I could trust.

Maybe that’s the key and his conscience got the better of him because maybe, just maybe he knew that I really couldn’t trust him after all.

I can not and could not trust Corey Smith because to this day, good boy holier than thou white meat baby Corey Smith… doesn’t trust Corey Smith.

The script has flipped since last year and I’m no longer loved and adored by the Universe, but that changes nothing. I have said before and I’ll say it to my dying breath that I have never, not once, lied about what or who I am. From day one, I have worn my heart on my sleeve and showed you exactly who I am and I let you make up your minds about me.

You love me, I give you what you want.

You hate me, I take away the things you love.

And I’ve done that with Corey Smith.

Corey shows you his cute face and his adorable locks, flashes you a million dollar smile… albeit with a ten dollar body… and he tells you exactly what he thinks you want to hear. When in reality, he’s not the victim… but a self serving piece of shit that doesn’t deserve your love and adoration.

I mean, if I don’t for telling you the truth… he surely doesn’t, for filling your head with the Corey Smith veneer of wholesomeness that doesn’t actually exist.

This entire cycle he’s been laughing and doing his thing like he always does… but with beads of sweat figuratively running down his head. They don’t even to be present to know its true. You can tell in his demeanor. You can tell in his delivery. You can tell with each successive sentence he utters that the veneer is cracking and starting to shatter.

Because I’ve been telling you all the truth about Corey Smith and he knows it.

His biggest fear isn’t what I’ll say… his biggest fear is that you’ll start to believe it, because I do not lie to you and you know it. And that, dear Universe, is why he’s been trying to paint me as something I have never been.



It’s a good thing Bad Medicine is in less than 24 hours. Corey Smith suffers from lie-abetes and needs a prescription.


Green Haven Correctional Facility || Stormville, New York || 5:14 PM

The ninety minute trip to Stormville was mostly Chris and I talking business, mixed with several interruptions from some of his other clients also talking business. I don’t normally bring wrestling home with me. Or in this case, I don’t bring it with me into my personal life that is this sensitive. Sometimes in life, we make exceptions to the rules and this is exactly that.

With Chris Page waiting in the car, I stand against a wall in the vacant yard inside the prison. While waiting on Keith I try to gather my thoughts. I’m still wrapping my head around how a murderer who got off light with manslaughter might serve less than two years total. Interrupting my thoughts, Keith Rickle exits through the door into the yard. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, he doesn’t even see me approaching on his right side. Placing a smoke in his mouth he feels around his pockets for a lighter.

”Dammit,” he says with a sigh when he can’t find it. Pulling a lighter from my own pocket, I hold it out and strike it. Turning toward me, Keith is stunned motionless for a moment before lighting his cigarette and taking a puff.

”Didn’t know you smoked,” he says to me.

”I don’t, but you never know when you need to catch an asshole off guard with some surprise dramatic entrance,” I say, only half joking.

”What are you doin’ here Thad?” he asks as we start to stroll the grounds.

”You know me Keith. There’s really only one reason I’d be here.”

”Frankie,” he assumes correctly. ”How is he?” he asks with a tear in his eye. ”Did he get the birthday card I sent him?”

”He got it,” I answer.

”What’d he say? Did he like it?”

”He never even opened it,” I answer the man with honesty. ”As soon as I handed it to him he threw it in the trash,” I tell him, taking some satisfaction in driving the dagger in just a little deeper.

”Oh,” he says, hanging his head.

”Keith, I’m gonna be honest with you,” I preface. ”Frankie doesn’t want you out of prison.”

I’m sure that stung.

”It’s not really up him though, is it?” he asks rhetorically with a bit of a cocky grin.

”Isn’t it though?” I ask him with a cocky smile of my own. We stop and stare at each other a long moment.

”Is this where you threaten me?” he asks with an uncomfortable smile. ”Drop my appeal or you have me killed?”

”I don’t want to kill you,” I answer quickly. ”Actually, this is where I give you options,” I correct him. ”Stay in prison, do your time… what? 19 more years?”

”18,” he answers.

”I’ll open a trust in your name Keith,” I begin to explain. ”Starting from the first day of your incarceration. Payable on the date of your release.”

”You think you can just buy anything, don’t you Thad?” he asks as we resume walking the grounds.

”I’ve yet to see a price I couldn’t afford, if that’s what you’re asking,” I ask, but naturally he doesn’t answer. ”Twenty million dollars for every year of your sentence. Do the math, Keith. 20 million times 20 years.

“It’ll take you a long ass time to squander 400 million dollars.”

”Is that what my life is worth to you?” he asks, and again we stop.

”No,” I answer with a light chuckle. ”Your life isn’t worth anything to me.

“Frankie on the other hand, his life is priceless and there is no amount of money I won’t pay, no nothing that I won’t do to protect him from scumbags like you.”

”I have a chance of getting out Thad,” he inhales the last of his cigarette and tosses the butt. ”I’m taking it.”

”I’d strongly advise you against that,” I say before leaning my face toward his ear. ”I said I didn’t want to have you killed, Keith…

“But I will if I have to,” I warn him, before leaving him behind and starting across the yard toward the exit.

”If Frankie ever finds out you threatened to have his dad killed...”

”You’ll never see him again, Keith,” I call out to him. ”But if by some small miracle you do make it out of here while you’re still breathing, and you do see him again…” I quickly make my way back toward him.

“I dare you to ask him who his dad is.

“And for the record Keith, I don’t make threats… I just do.” Taking a slip of paper from my pocket, I slide it into his breast pocket. ”That’s my attorney’s number. Think about it. When you come to your senses, give him a call,” again, I start for the exit.

”You’re afraid,” he says and I turn to look at him. ”You’re afraid that if I get out, I’m comin’ after Frankie.”

For the moment, I say nothing.

”I’d never hurt Frankie like that,” he pleads.

”As much as I’d like to believe you Keith, that’s just something I’m not willing to take my chances on.”

Not really wanting to be here anymore, I continue on toward the exit.

”Ninety days Keith,” I call out. ”Day 91, the deal is off the table.”


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Woolworth Tower || Tribeca – New York City || 3:23 PM

This morning, all of us slept in a bit later than normal. Last night, by the time I made it back to my room with Adi, it was past 4 in the morning and she’d understandably gone back to sleep. By then though, I really wasn’t “in the mood” as it was. After waking up, it was like last night didn’t even happen. Frankie was happy and playing with Minkah. Adi was plugging away on her script. And I was packing Frankie up for his trip to North Carolina. When he comes home in a couple weeks, I think I’ll make it a point to lay out some ground rules and allow his pup in the room with him at bed time.

Anytime he goes away, I put on a brave face. I keep a smile on my face and I laugh and joke like I normally do but the honest truth is it guts me. I don’t feel whole without him. There’s a sadness and a darkness that is present when he’s not. I don’t know what any of it means and I certainly don’t let the viewers know that for the sake of gaining empathy or sympathy. I’ve always been the kind of guy that’s worn my heart on my sleeve and good, bad or indifferent, I’ve always just been me. Whether the fans of the XWF love me or hate me, it’s never been me that’s changed.

I’ve stayed exactly the same. The difference being, now that they’ve decided that Thaddeus Duke is someone to loathe and detest, I make it a point to figurative drive a stake into each of their worthless hearts whenever we’re together.

Except here in New York.

They still love me here.

Frankie and I are in the elevator on the way down to the ground floor. I try really hard to hold back what I’m feeling. My head pounds from the inside out as I force the sadness to stay off my face. You know the feeling, it’s almost like sinus pressure.

”I still don’t want to go,” Frankie says quietly as the elevator slows to a stop. With a ding the doors slide open and he and I make our way through the lobby toward the Broadway entrance.

”Yeah I know, but T.J. and Caty need to have you around more than you have been,” I say to the boy. ”They need their big brother.”

”I know,” he says, defeated. ”But I need you right now.”

Little jerk!

”Listen to me,” I say to him with tears welling in my eyes. Stopping about ten feet from the doors I drop to my knees and spin him around to look at me. ”There’s nothing I want more in this world, than you being with me all the time.

“You know that.

“But I need you to be strong,” I say to him as I fix the collar on his jacket. ”I need you to be a big brother right now.”

”I can’t stop thinking about Keith,” he says with tears welling in his own eyes.

”Stop worrying about him Frankie,” I say as I wipe a tear from his eye. ”You let me handle that. Keith Rickle will not be problem for us, okay?”

He nods as over his shoulder, Elizabeth’s Ford Bronco pulls up at the curb.

”Your mom’s here,” I tell him and he wraps his arms around my neck. Hugging him back tightly, I kiss his cheek and start for the door. Outside, Liz opens the back door and I shove Frankie aside for a moment.

”Hey Thad,” she says warmly.

”Hi, move,” I tell her and jump inside the Bronco to see my other babies.

”He doesn’t want to leave you I assume,” Liz says as I play with a laughing and giggling T.J. and Caty while she looks at a sniffling Frankie.

”Don’t be offended,” I answer while playing with the twins. ”It’s not you.”

”Why don’t you wanna come with me?” she asks of Frankie, entirely ignoring what I just said.

”Keith,” he answers quietly.

”Your dad?”

From the sidewalk, he point at me. ”That’s my dad.”

”What’s going on?” she asks worriedly.

”Tell you in a minute,” I say as I make my way out of the car. Taking Frankie’s suitcase, I toss it in the back of the car before turning my attention to the boy. ”You know the drill buddy,” I tell him while kneeling down to his level. ”Any time, day or night you can call me. Face Time me. Zoom. Whatever you want, whenever you need it.

“I always have time for you.”

”I know,” he says quietly.

”Stop being sad, stop worrying about Keith.”

”It’s a little easier to say it than to do it.”

True.

”I know, but I need you to trust me and have faith that I’ll handle it,” I plead with him. ”Have I ever let you down?”

”Well, there was that one time you let Mufasa eat my first puppy,” he says with a little bit of a smile.

”I should’ve never told you that,” I say to the boy. ”Besides, I didn’t let him eat your puppy. It just happened.” To be clear, Frankie wasn’t home and he didn’t even know he had a puppy before the lion decided he’d make a good snack. Whatever else Mufasa is, he’s still a lion. You don’t interfere with feeding time if you like having both arms.

After exchanging last hugs and ‘I love you’s’, Frankie climbs into the Bronco and buckles in. After closing the door, I turn around right into Liz’s ‘we need to talk’ look.

It’s always been unsettling.

It still is.

”What’s going on with Keith?” she asks.

”He’s lawyered up and he’s appealing his conviction,” I answer.

”Everyone appeals their convictions, that’s not such a big deal,” she argues.

”No, but Robert is telling me that from what he’s hearing, Keith stands a pretty good shot at winning a new trial and if that happens, all bets are off.”

”He really might get out?”

”I don’t know, but if his case is strong enough to be granted a new trial, then it’s probably easier to see a scenario in which he gets exonerated.”

”Damn,” she says quietly. ”What are you gonna do about it?”

”Whatever it fuckin’ takes,” I say with a wink.

She nods, knowingly.

”After Bad Medicine, I’ll be goin’ to Egypt for a few days,” I tell her. ”Never been to Egypt but when I get back… we need to talk about what I told you months ago.”

”You’ll have to be more specific,” she says with a smile. ”You tell me a lot of things.”

”What we fought about the day I buried my mother.”

”Mother fucker,” she says with an angry smile. ” You really...”

”It’s not what you think...”

”...have SOME nerve...”

”Liz...”

”...to DEMAND of me...”

”STOP,” I say to her, grabbing her by both shoulders. ”I’m not making you do it.”

She falls quiet as she stares into my eyes.

”What changed your mind?”

”I just think that,” I pause while arranging the words in my head. ”I just want them to be able to lead some kind of normal lives.”

”Is that even possible?”

”I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.”

”So does that mean you’re gonna call off your surveillance?”

”Not a chance,” I answer her honestly.

”Really?” she utters with a dejected sigh. ”You have any idea how difficult it is to...”

”I don’t care about that Liz,” I interrupt. ”You’re a grown woman. You can date and sleep with whomever you want. But my people need to know who they are because… well… my kids are still my kids. Being who they are is still very dangerous.

“Six months old or sixty years old, it’s dangerous.”

”It’s such an invasion of privacy,” she protests.

”I know it is, and I’m sorry it has to be that way, but it has to be that way. They know exactly who they are before they even make it to your front door. There hasn’t been a viable threat yet so, I don’t know what you’re really worried about.”

”What happens if they do find someone suspicious, or think someone might be a threat?”

”Then they’ll never make it to your front door and I suppose you’ll be very thankful that they didn’t make it into the house where our kids sleep.”

Food for thought I guess.

For the most part, Liz and I have remained on very good terms. Though our friendship has fallen quiet since I’ve been with Adi. I have a tendency to push buttons that needn’t be pushed and well… I’m not pushing those ones.

After exchanging final pleasantries and goodbye’s, Liz and all my children are on the road back to North Carolina. Standing the curb, I wait for my car to arrive. While doing so, I put my hood up and peruse Twitter.

Cashe and Atara just went to Splitsville.

Lovely.

I guess it’s just me and Adi for Thanksgiving.

I can think of much worse.

Putting my phone away, the car pulls up and I take a seat in the back next to my business manager Chris Page.

”You don’t look happy,” he says as the car pulls onto Broadway.

”I’m not really,” I admit to him. ”I got a whole lot goin’ on in my personal life and I just sent Frankie to North Carolina for a couple weeks.”

Unsure how he’s supposed to react, Chris remains silent.

”I hate when he leaves,” I say quietly while staring out the passenger window. ”He leaves and… there’s a big fucking void and nothing can fill it.”

”Not even this?” he asks with a grin while showing me what’s on his phone.

”You get that done, then I guess you earned your fifteen percent of my paycheck,” I say with a bit of a smile.

”15% ain’t nothin’ Thad,” he replies.

”It is when it’s 15% of my money,” I argue with a smile.

”I guess it helps that it’s your uncle signing those checks.”

”Everyone thinks I’m blowin’ smoke,” I say in reference to the money. ”Inflating numbers and boostin’ my own ego.

“Truth is, I undersell the shit out of it.”

”You talked to your dad?” he asks, switching topics on a dime.

”I haven’t talked to him since I kicked him in face,” I reply, referring to Relentless. ”You get that other thing done?”

”About the match?”

I nod in response.

”Progress has been slow, but it’ll get done by match time.”

”Good,” I say as a smile starts to grow. ”Paul probably would’ve had it done by now.”

That should chap his ass a bit.

Chris stares at me from behind his sunglasses.

”Say what you want about him, but when Paul was talkin’ business, they gave in because he wouldn’t shut up until they did.

“There’s some value there.”

”Where we headed anyways?”


It’s interesting, isn’t it? Corey and I go back a long time and we’ve certainly both taken a big ole trip in the Wayback Machine, haven’t we?

So let’s do this one more time. And, I only bring this up because he legitimately sat there and tried to chastise me for not being there for him when things were happening to him that I had no control over, things I was not privy to in advance, and while I was fighting a war.

A different war than this Ares Project thing, but still a war.

I was a good friend to Corey Smith. Was I the best friend I could’ve been? Probably not. But I don’t blame him for things he couldn’t control. I don’t blame him for things happening to me that he didn’t know about. I didn’t blame him for not once putting on some fatigues, a helmet and some body armor to help me in my war efforts.

For what it’s worth, I’d have never asked him to and had he offered, I’d have denied him.

But why is any of this important? Why is his life story and my life story so important when neither of us could really step in and save the day for the other?

Because he had a chance to and he blew it. He blew it, like he blew his television title reign, that I constantly harp on despite only mentioning it, including this time: twice. He blew it, like he blew the 24/7 briefcase opportunity. He blew it… because… it isn’t what he wanted.

So, what does that mean and what am I talking about?

You know those tag straps we talk about so much? You know how I won them with Doc D’Ville and NOT Corey Smith despite invoking Freebird Rules after the fact which gave Corey a freebie tag belt?

Corey Smith was supposed to be my partner.

Okay, so ‘supposed’ is used a little loosely, but the fact is I asked him to team with me to go beat Cataclysm. It should have been Corey Smith in that match and not Doc D’Ville and I already know the Corey Smith Innocence Project would try and tear this one apart. I know the sympathizers are already trying to argue up that he wasn’t ready.

Corey wasn’t yet back from his stroke.

True.

Corey was however, promoting the battle royal for the Universal title.

So what does that mean, class?

It means, that even if he wasn’t quite ready, he was damn close. It means that even if he wasn’t quite ready, he would be by High Stakes 2020 and therefore could easily have been my partner that night, but he told me no. He told me no because… he wasn’t willing to do for me what I’ve been willing to do for my friends.

Case in point, he can ask our sister Dolly Waters.

Go ahead Corey… ask her what I did for her when she was being tormented by Micheal Graves.

Ask her what I sacrificed of myself in order to help her… in order to protect her…

Right after our debut match as a tag team, I kicked her in her face and it fucking broke me to do it, Corey. I betrayed everything I stood for in order to help her. I aligned myself with the likes of Robert Main and Chris oh my god I’m gonna vomit Chaos… to help her. I joined AX3 for a very brief period in order to learn what their plan was for Graves’ archnemesis- Dolly Waters. I endured the mockery and humiliation, I endured the boos and the hatred from the fans I once loved and adored.

So, the Waters/Graves feud reaches its climax and I reveal to the world that I never actually betrayed my friend and my sister Dolly Waters. And I took a four on one beat down for it and you know what? I’d do it all again because there’s not a thing I won’t do for those I love.

He’s said that he loved me.

Maybe part of him still does.

I’ll admit that there’s part of me that still loves him too.

But there comes a time, people, when you have to take off the rose colored Corey Smith glasses and see him for what he really is and that’s not anyone’s friend. Corey Smith is a self centered, self important asshole that doesn’t do anything unless it benefits him. I’ve taken off my Corey glasses and I do see him for what he is and what he’s always been.

It’s time you all did the same because when you do, you’ll see the fraud that he’s been perpetrating against the XWF Universe since the moment he came back here.

He has the audacity to sit there and paint me as a liar and attempt to drag me through the mud claiming I’m the evilest of all the evils because it was Doc as my partner and not him.

He had his chance.

I asked.

He said no.

Why did he say no?

Is it really because he wasn’t well enough yet?

He outlasted everyone but me in the battle royal and it wasn’t exactly filled with the Schism’s of the XWF was it?

If he was well enough to accomplish that much, he was well enough to be my friend, to be my brother, to put himself at risk to help me beat Cataclysm when he sat in his room and watched them try and end my career just two months earlier.

He knew I needed the help.

He knew I needed someone I could trust.

Maybe that’s the key and his conscience got the better of him because maybe, just maybe he knew that I really couldn’t trust him after all.

I can not and could not trust Corey Smith because to this day, good boy holier than thou white meat baby Corey Smith… doesn’t trust Corey Smith.

The script has flipped since last year and I’m no longer loved and adored by the Universe, but that changes nothing. I have said before and I’ll say it to my dying breath that I have never, not once, lied about what or who I am. From day one, I have worn my heart on my sleeve and showed you exactly who I am and I let you make up your minds about me.

You love me, I give you what you want.

You hate me, I take away the things you love.

And I’ve done that with Corey Smith.

Corey shows you his cute face and his adorable locks, flashes you a million dollar smile… albeit with a ten dollar body… and he tells you exactly what he thinks you want to hear. When in reality, he’s not the victim… but a self serving piece of shit that doesn’t deserve your love and adoration.

I mean, if I don’t for telling you the truth… he surely doesn’t, for filling your head with the Corey Smith veneer of wholesomeness that doesn’t actually exist.

This entire cycle he’s been laughing and doing his thing like he always does… but with beads of sweat figuratively running down his head. They don’t even to be present to know its true. You can tell in his demeanor. You can tell in his delivery. You can tell with each successive sentence he utters that the veneer is cracking and starting to shatter.

Because I’ve been telling you all the truth about Corey Smith and he knows it.

His biggest fear isn’t what I’ll say… his biggest fear is that you’ll start to believe it, because I do not lie to you and you know it. And that, dear Universe, is why he’s been trying to paint me as something I have never been.



It’s a good thing Bad Medicine is in less than 24 hours. Corey Smith suffers from lie-abetes and needs a prescription.


Green Haven Correctional Facility || Stormville, New York || 5:14 PM

The ninety minute trip to Stormville was mostly Chris and I talking business, mixed with several interruptions from some of his other clients also talking business. I don’t normally bring wrestling home with me. Or in this case, I don’t bring it with me into my personal life that is this sensitive. Sometimes in life, we make exceptions to the rules and this is exactly that.

With Chris Page waiting in the car, I stand against a wall in the vacant yard inside the prison. While waiting on Keith I try to gather my thoughts. I’m still wrapping my head around how a murderer who got off light with manslaughter might serve less than two years total. Interrupting my thoughts, Keith Rickle exits through the door into the yard. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, he doesn’t even see me approaching on his right side. Placing a smoke in his mouth he feels around his pockets for a lighter.

”Dammit,” he says with a sigh when he can’t find it. Pulling a lighter from my own pocket, I hold it out and strike it. Turning toward me, Keith is stunned motionless for a moment before lighting his cigarette and taking a puff.

”Didn’t know you smoked,” he says to me.

”I don’t, but you never know when you need to catch an asshole off guard with some surprise dramatic entrance,” I say, only half joking.

”What are you doin’ here Thad?” he asks as we start to stroll the grounds.

”You know me Keith. There’s really only one reason I’d be here.”

”Frankie,” he assumes correctly. ”How is he?” he asks with a tear in his eye. ”Did he get the birthday card I sent him?”

”He got it,” I answer.

”What’d he say? Did he like it?”

”He never even opened it,” I answer the man with honesty. ”As soon as I handed it to him he threw it in the trash,” I tell him, taking some satisfaction in driving the dagger in just a little deeper.

”Oh,” he says, hanging his head.

”Keith, I’m gonna be honest with you,” I preface. ”Frankie doesn’t want you out of prison.”

I’m sure that stung.

”It’s not really up him though, is it?” he asks rhetorically with a bit of a cocky grin.

”Isn’t it though?” I ask him with a cocky smile of my own. We stop and stare at each other a long moment.

”Is this where you threaten me?” he asks with an uncomfortable smile. ”Drop my appeal or you have me killed?”

”I don’t want to kill you,” I answer quickly. ”Actually, this is where I give you options,” I correct him. ”Stay in prison, do your time… what? 19 more years?”

”18,” he answers.

”I’ll open a trust in your name Keith,” I begin to explain. ”Starting from the first day of your incarceration. Payable on the date of your release.”

”You think you can just buy anything, don’t you Thad?” he asks as we resume walking the grounds.

”I’ve yet to see a price I couldn’t afford, if that’s what you’re asking,” I ask, but naturally he doesn’t answer. ”Twenty million dollars for every year of your sentence. Do the math, Keith. 20 million times 20 years.

“It’ll take you a long ass time to squander 400 million dollars.”

”Is that what my life is worth to you?” he asks, and again we stop.

”No,” I answer with a light chuckle. ”Your life isn’t worth anything to me.

“Frankie on the other hand, his life is priceless and there is no amount of money I won’t pay, no nothing that I won’t do to protect him from scumbags like you.”

”I have a chance of getting out Thad,” he inhales the last of his cigarette and tosses the butt. ”I’m taking it.”

”I’d strongly advise you against that,” I say before leaning my face toward his ear. ”I said I didn’t want to have you killed, Keith…

“But I will if I have to,” I warn him, before leaving him behind and starting across the yard toward the exit.

”If Frankie ever finds out you threatened to have his dad killed...”

”You’ll never see him again, Keith,” I call out to him. ”But if by some small miracle you do make it out of here while you’re still breathing, and you do see him again…” I quickly make my way back toward him.

“I dare you to ask him who his dad is.

“And for the record Keith, I don’t make threats… I just do.” Taking a slip of paper from my pocket, I slide it into his breast pocket. ”That’s my attorney’s number. Think about it. When you come to your senses, give him a call,” again, I start for the exit.

”You’re afraid,” he says and I turn to look at him. ”You’re afraid that if I get out, I’m comin’ after Frankie.”

For the moment, I say nothing.

”I’d never hurt Frankie like that,” he pleads.

”As much as I’d like to believe you Keith, that’s just something I’m not willing to take my chances on.”

Not really wanting to be here anymore, I continue on toward the exit.

”Ninety days Keith,” I call out. ”Day 91, the deal is off the table.”


[Image: NDdOtwO.png]
]]> <![CDATA[There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42312 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 21:04:17 -0800 Marf]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42312
A few nights earlier that week…



Marf trudges along through the thick brush and towering trees. A heavy frown hung off his face while he made his way to the cabin. He could already feel something was wrong. She had not returned home and he had not even received a call or text. Considering how strained things had become because of her being away so much, he doubted she would be so quick to ignore him already. The closer Marf got to the cabin the more the dread in the pit of his stomach grew. The wind is shrieking between the trees as Marf makes his way to the opening where the cabin sits.

Marf walks up to the cabin and shivers. It isn’t the weather though, it is the goosebumps crawling all over his flesh while he approaches the cabin. He told her he would come find her if she wasn’t home by now and here he was, a man of his word as per usual. Marf walks up the front steps and enters the unlocked front door of the cabin. He takes a few steps in and looks around before spotting the body of Lycana, crumpled on the floor. Marf stops in a deafening fear of coming across her corpse but something inside him is telling him she’s still alive.

Jesus Christ, Ly!

Marf races over to her body and drops to his knees beside her. Marf carefully shook Lycana while looking her over tediously. Her skin is far paler than it should be and he leans in to look at the veins on her neck. Running up her throat he can see the dark, blackish purple colouring. Marf hollers out in anger and grief before shaking her some more. Her eyelids flutter to life and she looks up at Marf in confusion. She tries to feel peace in his arms but there’s so much boiling anger in his blood overwhelming her.

Marf…what?

Lycana fades for a moment and nearly faints but manages to keep her eyes open. Marf is relieved but his anger butts in.

Stupid…you are so god damn stupid! Why would you do this to yourself Ly!? Fuck sakes!

Marf gets up and pulls her nearly weightless feeling body up with him. She attempts to push him away but is still dazed badly.

I can walk on my…own…

Sure you can. Just shut up for a few minutes so we can get the fuck out of her.

Before she can protest further, Marf scoops her up into his powerful arms and exits the cabin. He stomps his way through the forest all the way back to the house. Marf was hoping Reika was sound asleep because he did not want her to see Lycana like this. His anger was really boiling up and he had a feeling Lycana would likely feel it. But he didn’t care. They could talk or argue about it later, for now all he wanted to do was get them both home safely. The time for talking would come later…


Current time, a few mornings later…



Marf stares out the small, kitchen window while waiting for the coffee to be ready. It is early but the sun is beginning it’s slow climb to the top of the sky and the birds are belting out the first bars of their morning tunes. The coffee machine beeps and Marf grabs his mug. He pauses as he hears the familiar shuffling of her slippered feet. Finally, she was up and about. It had been three days. He grabs her mug as well before turning his head to see her enter the doorway into the kitchen. His head is swimming with questions but he does his best to stay calm to start this off.

Mornin’…coffee?

Lycana blinks at him as she comes to a stop. Her hair is slightly disheveled, and there are dark smudges under her eyes. But her veins have nearly returned to normal, and she is moving under her own power. She smiles, hesitantly.

Yes, thank you.

She takes a step towards him, then pauses. Marf makes a motion with his head to indicate that it is ready while turning back and pouring some coffee into her mug first. He slides it slightly beside himself on the counter as he feels her timidly approach. He pours his own cup before turning back to Lycana.

It’s good to see you up…

It feels good to be up.

She wraps her fingers around her mug, lifting it to her lips and taking a sip. She makes a small noise of appreciation.

How long was I out?

Lycana peeks up at him through her eyelashes, seeming to try and judge his mood. Marf raises his own cup to his lips while looking away from her. He takes a long, drawn out sip before responding.

Three days…

It comes out almost like a shot from a rifle even though it wasn’t his intention. He glances as casually back to her as he can.

Are you okay?

Lycana swallows, setting her mug back down on the counter, very slowly.

I’m good Marf, I feel much better. I must have needed that three day nap.

She gives him a lighthearted smile. Marf tries to return her kind smile but it just looks grumpy on his already stern face. He shakes his head.

I’m glad that you’re okay…but do I even ask here, Ly? As calmly as I can, what the fuck?

Lycana’s smile falters.

I was hoping we could avoid that.

She tries again, but looks away.

It was... A lot stronger than I thought. But nothing too bad happened.

Marf puts his coffee down firmly and glares at her now. He struggles to maintain a calm voice as the anger creeps in.

Nothing too bad!? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You were practically dying when I found you. Do you realize I had to get friggin’ Damien to help me make sure you didn’t die? I had to ask him for help, now he’ll hold that over my damn head!

Well at least it wasn’t so bad I had to go to the Springs again. I didn’t end up in the In Between. I was fine Marf!

She swipes up her coffee and takes an obviously annoyed sip. He does his best at staying in control while watching her, a scowl quietly growing on his own face.

Sure, you were fine. I sent Reika with Fenrir for a sleepover. So she wouldn’t have to see how fine you are.

I was just tired Marf!

She closes her eyes, and takes a breath.

Look, maybe I shouldn’t have done it alone, when I never did before. I just maybe, misjudged a little how strong it would be. It could have been worse, but I was careful. I knew it could kill me so I put a little less...

Lycana stops, knowing she made a mistake. Marf stops and turns completely to stand in front of her. He squeezes the handle of the coffee mug too hard and it breaks off, sending the mug crashing to the kitchen floor in a mess. Marf ignores it and looks directly into her eyes.

It could have fucking killed you!? Jesus Christ, how can you even be possibly arguing with me about this? Why didn’t you take me with you at least!?

She looks down at the shattered pieces on the floor, the coffee cascading across the linoleum.

I knew you wouldn’t let me do it Marf!

She slams her cup down, grabbing from the roll of paper towels.

I didn’t want to fucking worry you!

Lycana crouches, starting to mop up the spill.

And I’m fucking here, aren't I?

I would worry a hell of a lot less if I was standing by your fuckin’ side instead of waiting in the dark. Fuck sakes, didn’t we already have this fight? What are we doing?

He looks down at her with frustration meshed in with regret for making the mess she was cleaning up. Even if he had been cleaning up some of he messed lately. Before he can try to bring the tension down, Damien walks into the kitchen.

Oh don’t stop your yelling on a count of me. I didn’t want to sleep past eight in the morning today anyway…

Damien stops in his tracks and shoots a glance to the floor. His eyes grow wide in terror.

Dude! Is that my fucking kitty mug!? Are you guys fucking kidding me!?

Shut the fuck up Damien!

Lycana rises to her feet, throwing a chunk of mug towards the sink.

Stay the fuck out of this.

She turns towards Marf, too fast, wobbling a little.

I don’t know what we are doing Marf. Seems like every time we are in the same room, all we do is yell at one another. Why fucking stop now?!

This isn’t what I want! I’m on your god damn side, why do you keep drawing lines in the fuckin’ sand!

Marf stops himself, skin burning up and face turning a fuming shade of red. His body quivers with the overwhelming anger ready to erupt underneath his skin.

Hold up! Don’t tell me to shut the fuck up, I saved your ass the other night! Forget about your shining black knight, Marf, it was all Damien!

Could have fooled me! Every day since I came home you’ve been up my ass about my fuck ups! And you wonder why I didn’t tell you?

Lycana hisses the venomous words, before whirling on Damien, staggering slightly once more.

How wonderful! My hero! Guess I owe you again, huh?

Lycana childishly kicks a piece of the mug, a combination of anger and exhaustion taking over.

I swear to fuck, both of you just never goddamn stop!

Some gratitude, you’re being a real snarky bitch! The pair of you get on my last nerve so much lately and you can’t even give me a simple thank you! And now my favourite mug is destroyed because of another lover’s quarrel…

Damien picks up the closest piece of his ruined mug before scurrying over to grab the rest. He bumps Lycana out of his way but in her still weakened state she falls backwards and slams into the kitchen counter. Her mug goes flying into the sink as Marf glares at Damien with a look of death. Marf looks over at Lycana while shoving Damien away from her.

Are you alright?

Lycana’s foot slides on a piece of mug, sending her sliding fully down onto her ass. She snarls over at Damien.

Fuck your mug!

She tries to pull herself up, grimacing a little.

I’m fine... I’m fine.

Damien steps towards the fallen Lycana and grunts right back at her in anger.

Hey fuck you! Another bullshit suicide mission and here we all are fighting! Way to go!

Marf, now noticeably shivering with anger, shoves Damien back once again while turning to help Lycana up.

And fuck you for taking your shit out on me!

Before he realizes it, Damien fires off a sharp punch that catches Marf on the side of his face, surprising him. He stops and glares at Damien, the vein in his forehead pulsating with rage. Marf slowly looks down at Lycana, his eyes changing for a moment to pure sorrow. He carefully helps her up as his eyes well up slightly with tears. He knows he can’t control the rage any longer. Suddenly he kisses Lycana deeply.

The hell…?

Marf embraces Lycana for a solid couple minutes before taking a step back from her. She looks at him, growing concern filling her face as she notices his own facial features. She can feel the volcano that is about to erupt. Marf’s face goes ice cold and in the blink of an eye he turns and grabs Damien, slamming him face first off the kitchen counter. Blood spurts out of his nose as Damien falls onto his back. Disoriented on the floor, Damien struggles to sit up but Marf kicks him hard in the face before he can get up.

Lycana is frozen in place and can only watch in horror as Marf stomps on Damien’s face over and over again. Marf suddenly let’s a violent roar escape his lungs while he grabs hold of the kitchen counter for leverage and drives his big foot into Damien’s battered face repeatedly. A disgusting crunch starts to sound after each stomp while blood begins to splatter across Marf’s torso and face. Finally he stops, heavy breaths of rage escaping him.

Marf turns excruciatingly slow until he is facing the mortified Lycana. His face is completely blank and stoic while dripping with blood and chunks of flesh. What is left of Damien lies behind him. Damien’s head is caved in and smashed to pieces. The spilt coffee is no longer noticeable with all the blood and pieces of skull fragments and brains. Marf blinks slowly and looks at Lycana. His blue eyes gaze upon her with sadness and pain while he is utterly speechless.

Lycana is staring at the lump of meat that was formerly Damien’s face. She swallows hard, trying not to vomit. A shaky whimper escapes. She drags her eyes to Marf’s face, eyes round and terrified.

What did you do?

She whispers it at him. She takes a step backwards, starting to shake.

What did you DO?!

She stares at him, not even recognizing him. This wasn’t her Marf. This was someone else who had taken over his body. It had to be. Her feelings are written all over her face as he watches her. Her hands go up to her mouth, covering a sob.

I…

His voice cracks before he can even get the beginning of a sentence out. He slowly raises his hand to his face and wipes at it. Looking at his shaking hands, Marf sees the blood now coating it and his eyes go wide. He looks back to Lycana in desperation but she’s already making her way out of the kitchen and up to their room to get away from him. He hears her slam the bedroom door, as if that could stop him. But for now it will, as Marf can only look down at his trembling hands in horror as we fade out…





All this running around,
Tryin' to cover my shadow.
A notion growing inside,
Now all the others seem shallow.

All this running around,
Bearing down on my shoulders.
I can hear an alarm,
It must be morning.

I heard about a whirlwind that's coming 'round.
It's gonna carry off all that isn't bound, and
When it happens, when it happens.
(I won't be holding on)
So let it happen, let it happen.


About a day until Bad Medicine



We open up to a rather perturbed looking Marf, standing there all disappointed and shit. He licks his teeth as we begin.

You know, all that big talk early on from you Schism, I did not have you pegged as a runner. Seriously, for someone who thinks he knows a lot, you sure shut the fuck up fast. I hope that isn’t on account of lil ole me. Truly, I was excited to play! A game of barbs, tossed back and forth between us. The truest form of foreplay before the battle turns to flesh and blood. No more love notes Schism, time is running out before I claim my pound of flesh from you.

If you believe silence will be your salvation, that keeping that cum dumpster of a mouth closed is going to save you, ooooo boy are you ever fuckin’ mistaken! Once our match is underway I will be out there to shut you up, permanently. Even if that means I break your fucking jaw so they have to wire your god damn mouth shut. You wanna play your silence is golden game? I’ll give you a fucking reason to be silent for a long time.

Marf slowly cracks his neck while still managing to look less than enthused.

So if you’re still there ole buddy ole pal, if you’re thinking to yourself with that tiny pea brain of yours that I was thoughtless before, strap in and wait until you hear what I have to say now. You think that the Marf that went all out on Damien in front of Lycana is gone? He is alive and fucking well buddy... and if I was willing to do that to her, end the existence of her close friend, just what do you think is going to stop me from doing ten times worse to you? With Xtreme rules attached, absolutely fucking nothing will stop me.

But you know what, you were right about something though, I’m not the same as I was. I’m fucking better. So, so much better. And its going to take a lot more than Schizzy the snowman slayer to stand in the way of me winning this Extreme title shot. Just like at Relentless when I won the Supercontinental title shot. I’m about to collect another title shot while you collect a loss and a trip back to the drawing board. Or whatever the fuck it is you do with all your vintage trainers.

Marf simply shrugs, clearly losing interest in this already. You can almost see his skin crawling with anticipation to just get to the match already.

Anyway, it was good to hear that you want us to beat each other senseless Schism, I certainly have no problem obliging. You want brass knuckles? You fucking got it! Chairs? Bolt cutters? Blowtorches? Fucking gasoline!? Ha, I am more than willing to play with them all. Hell, I probably will regardless if you want to or not. We’re not fucking around with snow angels, I sure hope you know just what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into. Assuming you do any thinking at all…

Speaking of, I’ve been doing some thinking myself. I thought something was pretty fucking funny that you mentioned before. You actually think that Lycana didn’t want to stay with me at the bottom…the bottom where I wore gold more than she did? That never mattered to us. But go on, spew out the same trope that everyone else already has. I thought you said you understood the real Marf? You dont seem to know what the fuck you’re talking about Schism. Hell, one moment you tell me that I’m a dissentient, not a follower of a boring trend, and in the next breath you are telling me I’m just like the rest? Well which is it you dumb fuck?

Marf shakes his head in the purest of pure annoyances.

You see Schism, I dont need to understand you to send your teeth down your throat, or rip your intestines out your asshole to strangle you with. You can attempt to fucking play your psychologist games all you want, I dont really give a shit. All I care about is getting my hands on you and showing you how little everything you fucking stand for is. Mangling your body in the grandest fashion. Unfortunately I’m not convinced I’ll have the widest audience thanks to you, Schism. Once the fans see your name the arena will likely empty out faster than an eggy fart filled elevator.

Marf holds a hand up to shield his nostrils while looking disgusted.

But it’s okay Schizzles, I will carry your worthless, meth head looking carcass through this match. I will pummel you with my fists while puncturing your flesh with tacks, staples, shards and more. I will teach you first hand who the real Marf truly is. And after all that, well fuck at least you’ll have an interesting story to tell for once. Boring ass, quiet fuck. At least whatever other people are in your hospital room after the match will be able to get some sleep. Shit, you might even be in a fucking coma yourself.

I guarantee you Schism I’m not letting you escape this encounter without being permanently scarred for the rest of your useless life. None of your life coaches can protect you from this. If they even gave a shit about you they would have pulled you from the damn match. Walking into a magnificent failure. That’s about the only magnificent thing you’ve accomplished in your whole career. Huh…I almost feel honoured. Key word, almost. Instead I’m going to break your bones and toss you out of my way like every other motherfucker before and after you.

Marf dismisses the camera as we don’t seem to fade out just yet. Marf raises an eyebrow at the camera.

What? Fuck Schism, end of story…

Marf snarls and leaves as we actually fade out now. ]]>
A few nights earlier that week…



Marf trudges along through the thick brush and towering trees. A heavy frown hung off his face while he made his way to the cabin. He could already feel something was wrong. She had not returned home and he had not even received a call or text. Considering how strained things had become because of her being away so much, he doubted she would be so quick to ignore him already. The closer Marf got to the cabin the more the dread in the pit of his stomach grew. The wind is shrieking between the trees as Marf makes his way to the opening where the cabin sits.

Marf walks up to the cabin and shivers. It isn’t the weather though, it is the goosebumps crawling all over his flesh while he approaches the cabin. He told her he would come find her if she wasn’t home by now and here he was, a man of his word as per usual. Marf walks up the front steps and enters the unlocked front door of the cabin. He takes a few steps in and looks around before spotting the body of Lycana, crumpled on the floor. Marf stops in a deafening fear of coming across her corpse but something inside him is telling him she’s still alive.

Jesus Christ, Ly!

Marf races over to her body and drops to his knees beside her. Marf carefully shook Lycana while looking her over tediously. Her skin is far paler than it should be and he leans in to look at the veins on her neck. Running up her throat he can see the dark, blackish purple colouring. Marf hollers out in anger and grief before shaking her some more. Her eyelids flutter to life and she looks up at Marf in confusion. She tries to feel peace in his arms but there’s so much boiling anger in his blood overwhelming her.

Marf…what?

Lycana fades for a moment and nearly faints but manages to keep her eyes open. Marf is relieved but his anger butts in.

Stupid…you are so god damn stupid! Why would you do this to yourself Ly!? Fuck sakes!

Marf gets up and pulls her nearly weightless feeling body up with him. She attempts to push him away but is still dazed badly.

I can walk on my…own…

Sure you can. Just shut up for a few minutes so we can get the fuck out of her.

Before she can protest further, Marf scoops her up into his powerful arms and exits the cabin. He stomps his way through the forest all the way back to the house. Marf was hoping Reika was sound asleep because he did not want her to see Lycana like this. His anger was really boiling up and he had a feeling Lycana would likely feel it. But he didn’t care. They could talk or argue about it later, for now all he wanted to do was get them both home safely. The time for talking would come later…


Current time, a few mornings later…



Marf stares out the small, kitchen window while waiting for the coffee to be ready. It is early but the sun is beginning it’s slow climb to the top of the sky and the birds are belting out the first bars of their morning tunes. The coffee machine beeps and Marf grabs his mug. He pauses as he hears the familiar shuffling of her slippered feet. Finally, she was up and about. It had been three days. He grabs her mug as well before turning his head to see her enter the doorway into the kitchen. His head is swimming with questions but he does his best to stay calm to start this off.

Mornin’…coffee?

Lycana blinks at him as she comes to a stop. Her hair is slightly disheveled, and there are dark smudges under her eyes. But her veins have nearly returned to normal, and she is moving under her own power. She smiles, hesitantly.

Yes, thank you.

She takes a step towards him, then pauses. Marf makes a motion with his head to indicate that it is ready while turning back and pouring some coffee into her mug first. He slides it slightly beside himself on the counter as he feels her timidly approach. He pours his own cup before turning back to Lycana.

It’s good to see you up…

It feels good to be up.

She wraps her fingers around her mug, lifting it to her lips and taking a sip. She makes a small noise of appreciation.

How long was I out?

Lycana peeks up at him through her eyelashes, seeming to try and judge his mood. Marf raises his own cup to his lips while looking away from her. He takes a long, drawn out sip before responding.

Three days…

It comes out almost like a shot from a rifle even though it wasn’t his intention. He glances as casually back to her as he can.

Are you okay?

Lycana swallows, setting her mug back down on the counter, very slowly.

I’m good Marf, I feel much better. I must have needed that three day nap.

She gives him a lighthearted smile. Marf tries to return her kind smile but it just looks grumpy on his already stern face. He shakes his head.

I’m glad that you’re okay…but do I even ask here, Ly? As calmly as I can, what the fuck?

Lycana’s smile falters.

I was hoping we could avoid that.

She tries again, but looks away.

It was... A lot stronger than I thought. But nothing too bad happened.

Marf puts his coffee down firmly and glares at her now. He struggles to maintain a calm voice as the anger creeps in.

Nothing too bad!? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You were practically dying when I found you. Do you realize I had to get friggin’ Damien to help me make sure you didn’t die? I had to ask him for help, now he’ll hold that over my damn head!

Well at least it wasn’t so bad I had to go to the Springs again. I didn’t end up in the In Between. I was fine Marf!

She swipes up her coffee and takes an obviously annoyed sip. He does his best at staying in control while watching her, a scowl quietly growing on his own face.

Sure, you were fine. I sent Reika with Fenrir for a sleepover. So she wouldn’t have to see how fine you are.

I was just tired Marf!

She closes her eyes, and takes a breath.

Look, maybe I shouldn’t have done it alone, when I never did before. I just maybe, misjudged a little how strong it would be. It could have been worse, but I was careful. I knew it could kill me so I put a little less...

Lycana stops, knowing she made a mistake. Marf stops and turns completely to stand in front of her. He squeezes the handle of the coffee mug too hard and it breaks off, sending the mug crashing to the kitchen floor in a mess. Marf ignores it and looks directly into her eyes.

It could have fucking killed you!? Jesus Christ, how can you even be possibly arguing with me about this? Why didn’t you take me with you at least!?

She looks down at the shattered pieces on the floor, the coffee cascading across the linoleum.

I knew you wouldn’t let me do it Marf!

She slams her cup down, grabbing from the roll of paper towels.

I didn’t want to fucking worry you!

Lycana crouches, starting to mop up the spill.

And I’m fucking here, aren't I?

I would worry a hell of a lot less if I was standing by your fuckin’ side instead of waiting in the dark. Fuck sakes, didn’t we already have this fight? What are we doing?

He looks down at her with frustration meshed in with regret for making the mess she was cleaning up. Even if he had been cleaning up some of he messed lately. Before he can try to bring the tension down, Damien walks into the kitchen.

Oh don’t stop your yelling on a count of me. I didn’t want to sleep past eight in the morning today anyway…

Damien stops in his tracks and shoots a glance to the floor. His eyes grow wide in terror.

Dude! Is that my fucking kitty mug!? Are you guys fucking kidding me!?

Shut the fuck up Damien!

Lycana rises to her feet, throwing a chunk of mug towards the sink.

Stay the fuck out of this.

She turns towards Marf, too fast, wobbling a little.

I don’t know what we are doing Marf. Seems like every time we are in the same room, all we do is yell at one another. Why fucking stop now?!

This isn’t what I want! I’m on your god damn side, why do you keep drawing lines in the fuckin’ sand!

Marf stops himself, skin burning up and face turning a fuming shade of red. His body quivers with the overwhelming anger ready to erupt underneath his skin.

Hold up! Don’t tell me to shut the fuck up, I saved your ass the other night! Forget about your shining black knight, Marf, it was all Damien!

Could have fooled me! Every day since I came home you’ve been up my ass about my fuck ups! And you wonder why I didn’t tell you?

Lycana hisses the venomous words, before whirling on Damien, staggering slightly once more.

How wonderful! My hero! Guess I owe you again, huh?

Lycana childishly kicks a piece of the mug, a combination of anger and exhaustion taking over.

I swear to fuck, both of you just never goddamn stop!

Some gratitude, you’re being a real snarky bitch! The pair of you get on my last nerve so much lately and you can’t even give me a simple thank you! And now my favourite mug is destroyed because of another lover’s quarrel…

Damien picks up the closest piece of his ruined mug before scurrying over to grab the rest. He bumps Lycana out of his way but in her still weakened state she falls backwards and slams into the kitchen counter. Her mug goes flying into the sink as Marf glares at Damien with a look of death. Marf looks over at Lycana while shoving Damien away from her.

Are you alright?

Lycana’s foot slides on a piece of mug, sending her sliding fully down onto her ass. She snarls over at Damien.

Fuck your mug!

She tries to pull herself up, grimacing a little.

I’m fine... I’m fine.

Damien steps towards the fallen Lycana and grunts right back at her in anger.

Hey fuck you! Another bullshit suicide mission and here we all are fighting! Way to go!

Marf, now noticeably shivering with anger, shoves Damien back once again while turning to help Lycana up.

And fuck you for taking your shit out on me!

Before he realizes it, Damien fires off a sharp punch that catches Marf on the side of his face, surprising him. He stops and glares at Damien, the vein in his forehead pulsating with rage. Marf slowly looks down at Lycana, his eyes changing for a moment to pure sorrow. He carefully helps her up as his eyes well up slightly with tears. He knows he can’t control the rage any longer. Suddenly he kisses Lycana deeply.

The hell…?

Marf embraces Lycana for a solid couple minutes before taking a step back from her. She looks at him, growing concern filling her face as she notices his own facial features. She can feel the volcano that is about to erupt. Marf’s face goes ice cold and in the blink of an eye he turns and grabs Damien, slamming him face first off the kitchen counter. Blood spurts out of his nose as Damien falls onto his back. Disoriented on the floor, Damien struggles to sit up but Marf kicks him hard in the face before he can get up.

Lycana is frozen in place and can only watch in horror as Marf stomps on Damien’s face over and over again. Marf suddenly let’s a violent roar escape his lungs while he grabs hold of the kitchen counter for leverage and drives his big foot into Damien’s battered face repeatedly. A disgusting crunch starts to sound after each stomp while blood begins to splatter across Marf’s torso and face. Finally he stops, heavy breaths of rage escaping him.

Marf turns excruciatingly slow until he is facing the mortified Lycana. His face is completely blank and stoic while dripping with blood and chunks of flesh. What is left of Damien lies behind him. Damien’s head is caved in and smashed to pieces. The spilt coffee is no longer noticeable with all the blood and pieces of skull fragments and brains. Marf blinks slowly and looks at Lycana. His blue eyes gaze upon her with sadness and pain while he is utterly speechless.

Lycana is staring at the lump of meat that was formerly Damien’s face. She swallows hard, trying not to vomit. A shaky whimper escapes. She drags her eyes to Marf’s face, eyes round and terrified.

What did you do?

She whispers it at him. She takes a step backwards, starting to shake.

What did you DO?!

She stares at him, not even recognizing him. This wasn’t her Marf. This was someone else who had taken over his body. It had to be. Her feelings are written all over her face as he watches her. Her hands go up to her mouth, covering a sob.

I…

His voice cracks before he can even get the beginning of a sentence out. He slowly raises his hand to his face and wipes at it. Looking at his shaking hands, Marf sees the blood now coating it and his eyes go wide. He looks back to Lycana in desperation but she’s already making her way out of the kitchen and up to their room to get away from him. He hears her slam the bedroom door, as if that could stop him. But for now it will, as Marf can only look down at his trembling hands in horror as we fade out…





All this running around,
Tryin' to cover my shadow.
A notion growing inside,
Now all the others seem shallow.

All this running around,
Bearing down on my shoulders.
I can hear an alarm,
It must be morning.

I heard about a whirlwind that's coming 'round.
It's gonna carry off all that isn't bound, and
When it happens, when it happens.
(I won't be holding on)
So let it happen, let it happen.


About a day until Bad Medicine



We open up to a rather perturbed looking Marf, standing there all disappointed and shit. He licks his teeth as we begin.

You know, all that big talk early on from you Schism, I did not have you pegged as a runner. Seriously, for someone who thinks he knows a lot, you sure shut the fuck up fast. I hope that isn’t on account of lil ole me. Truly, I was excited to play! A game of barbs, tossed back and forth between us. The truest form of foreplay before the battle turns to flesh and blood. No more love notes Schism, time is running out before I claim my pound of flesh from you.

If you believe silence will be your salvation, that keeping that cum dumpster of a mouth closed is going to save you, ooooo boy are you ever fuckin’ mistaken! Once our match is underway I will be out there to shut you up, permanently. Even if that means I break your fucking jaw so they have to wire your god damn mouth shut. You wanna play your silence is golden game? I’ll give you a fucking reason to be silent for a long time.

Marf slowly cracks his neck while still managing to look less than enthused.

So if you’re still there ole buddy ole pal, if you’re thinking to yourself with that tiny pea brain of yours that I was thoughtless before, strap in and wait until you hear what I have to say now. You think that the Marf that went all out on Damien in front of Lycana is gone? He is alive and fucking well buddy... and if I was willing to do that to her, end the existence of her close friend, just what do you think is going to stop me from doing ten times worse to you? With Xtreme rules attached, absolutely fucking nothing will stop me.

But you know what, you were right about something though, I’m not the same as I was. I’m fucking better. So, so much better. And its going to take a lot more than Schizzy the snowman slayer to stand in the way of me winning this Extreme title shot. Just like at Relentless when I won the Supercontinental title shot. I’m about to collect another title shot while you collect a loss and a trip back to the drawing board. Or whatever the fuck it is you do with all your vintage trainers.

Marf simply shrugs, clearly losing interest in this already. You can almost see his skin crawling with anticipation to just get to the match already.

Anyway, it was good to hear that you want us to beat each other senseless Schism, I certainly have no problem obliging. You want brass knuckles? You fucking got it! Chairs? Bolt cutters? Blowtorches? Fucking gasoline!? Ha, I am more than willing to play with them all. Hell, I probably will regardless if you want to or not. We’re not fucking around with snow angels, I sure hope you know just what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into. Assuming you do any thinking at all…

Speaking of, I’ve been doing some thinking myself. I thought something was pretty fucking funny that you mentioned before. You actually think that Lycana didn’t want to stay with me at the bottom…the bottom where I wore gold more than she did? That never mattered to us. But go on, spew out the same trope that everyone else already has. I thought you said you understood the real Marf? You dont seem to know what the fuck you’re talking about Schism. Hell, one moment you tell me that I’m a dissentient, not a follower of a boring trend, and in the next breath you are telling me I’m just like the rest? Well which is it you dumb fuck?

Marf shakes his head in the purest of pure annoyances.

You see Schism, I dont need to understand you to send your teeth down your throat, or rip your intestines out your asshole to strangle you with. You can attempt to fucking play your psychologist games all you want, I dont really give a shit. All I care about is getting my hands on you and showing you how little everything you fucking stand for is. Mangling your body in the grandest fashion. Unfortunately I’m not convinced I’ll have the widest audience thanks to you, Schism. Once the fans see your name the arena will likely empty out faster than an eggy fart filled elevator.

Marf holds a hand up to shield his nostrils while looking disgusted.

But it’s okay Schizzles, I will carry your worthless, meth head looking carcass through this match. I will pummel you with my fists while puncturing your flesh with tacks, staples, shards and more. I will teach you first hand who the real Marf truly is. And after all that, well fuck at least you’ll have an interesting story to tell for once. Boring ass, quiet fuck. At least whatever other people are in your hospital room after the match will be able to get some sleep. Shit, you might even be in a fucking coma yourself.

I guarantee you Schism I’m not letting you escape this encounter without being permanently scarred for the rest of your useless life. None of your life coaches can protect you from this. If they even gave a shit about you they would have pulled you from the damn match. Walking into a magnificent failure. That’s about the only magnificent thing you’ve accomplished in your whole career. Huh…I almost feel honoured. Key word, almost. Instead I’m going to break your bones and toss you out of my way like every other motherfucker before and after you.

Marf dismisses the camera as we don’t seem to fade out just yet. Marf raises an eyebrow at the camera.

What? Fuck Schism, end of story…

Marf snarls and leaves as we actually fade out now. ]]> <![CDATA[Images from above]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42310 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 18:32:26 -0800 Rampage]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42310 Rampage has been restless all week. He had never felt like this before. Making matters worse every time he went to sleep and closed his eyes, images would appear. He was unsure how to handle this because, up to this point; he was in control. Rampage called his doctor, letting him know what was going on. The doctor was intrigued, but wanted the big guy to sleep and write about everything that happens. It was the only way to determine what message was being sent. Rampage did not like the idea, but perhaps the message would be less sinister this time around. Hanging up with his doctor, Rampage turns off every light and does his best to fall asleep with a notebook nearby, just in case. When he closes his eyes, the images start. It was calmer this time as positive energy flowed throughout Rampage. The image was blurry at first, but soon came into focus.

[Image: AFQA4AEQ-P837161.jpg]

The stairway to heaven was not an image he expected. The guy has not been to church in years and rebelled against God on multiple occasions. Was he dreaming or ready to meet his maker preparing his judgment? It was hard to tell at this point as Rampage walks up the steps making the last turn as another image comes into focus.

[Image: 5gA8YMM.png]

His body tries to wake up the moment it sees Jesus at the top of the stairs. No matter what, though, Rampage would not avoid this experience. It was like God wanted him to see and understand everything that was about to happen. Only a few more steps until he reached Jesus he looks up and spoke to him.

Rampage: Jes..Jes..Jesus, what is happening? Did I die and go to heaven? Are you going to banish me to hell for all my sins? Please forgive me!

Jesus continues to look at Rampage, not saying a word, since Jesus was a man of patience. Letting Rampage finish what needed to be said, he reaches out and touched him on the shoulder. Looking into his eyes, the Son of God spoke.

Jesus: Rampage, you can rest assured that you have not perished and where you will deal with your sins of the earth. I am the Lord, your God, and this visit tells you the truth about any questions you may have. I am always a man of my word Rampage, and I know you have a worry on your mind right now. I already know what the issue is, but I wish for you to open up and tell me yourself.

Rampage was always about fear and pain, but this week Jesus knew he need a different approach. Every time he opens his mouth, Rampage knew Jesus spoke the truth, but he struggled to find the proper question to ask him. He thinks for a while before responding to the Lord.

Rampage: Jesus, I can’t hide anything from you, no matter what I do. I do not even deserve to be speaking with you right now, since I have not been faithfully following you. However, I know better than to keep you waiting, so the first issue I have is that even though I am a former Television Champion Michael Graves feels it was a fluke. Can you believe that? I am one of the hardest working talents in XWF and yet this is blatant disrespect. I want permission to seek revenge on my terms and not by what the Bible says.

There was no reaction from Jesus, which worried Rampage. He understood the need to be accepted, as many reject Jesus daily. No matter what Rampage did, only Jesus knew if it would be enough as he kneels next to him to respond.

Jesus: Rampage, my father created you in his image. That alone means you are perfect. No matter what happens, you cannot go wrong in my eyes. Second, you are strong, sturdy, and steady. You are intelligent, confident, and the toughest guy walking God’s green earth. You NEVER need the approval of others when you have Jesus in your life. I know for a fact that my father looks down at you with full approval and considers you one of his greatest achievements. If Michael Graves feels you do not deserve praise, then go out there and deliver with authority. Do it in my name if you must, but life is about overcoming demons and obstacles. Michael Graves is self-centered and it will be his downfall, my child.

For the first time during this crazy experience, he smiled, knowing that they favored him in the Lord’s eyes. Wiping away tears, Rampage looked into the Lord’s eyes once more.

Rampage: I appreciate the encouraging words and truly believe that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. If I am favored in your eyes, then who can stop me on my way to victory. Michael Graves will realize no one disrespects me without a price. I will not murder him, my Lord, but violence will be the answer to showing him the light and the errors of his ways.

The glow around Jesus intensified as Rampage heard the faint sound of angels as Jesus spoke once more.

Jesus: My dear child, you have come quite a long way since you were a young, rebellious boy. Your heart is still a work in process as you have allowed the evils of this world to consume you. If you are not careful, you will reach a point of no return. It is what Michael Graves wants because it feeds his ego, knowing he made you snap. Do not allow him to see that side of you. Instead, let him see the fire and desire in your eyes that come from your soul.

Rampage: Of course, my Lord. I know it has been tough on me lately. All I have is doubt my entire life, and delivering pain is the only thing I’ve done well. You do not want me to deliver pain to my opponents, but strike the fear of God in them. Michael Graves will understand the meaning of being struck down by an iron fist and it will shake the very foundation of his soul. He will leave Bad Medicine broken, bruised, and battered by the Holy Spirit.

Jesus: Do you have other questions, my child?

Rampage: Michael Graves has strength that concerns me. He is battle-tested, and it’s been a bit since I competed. I am not sure how to approach a man that has the intelligence he possesses. What do you suggest, my Lord?

Jesus: Rampage, my suggestion is very simple. You seek my father’s advice, for I am not him and he has the final say in all things. Being this is a dream right, my child, I want you to continue on this journey. It is important you finish the visions to reach your true potential of being rewired by my father. The time has come for me to leave you, but continue up the stairs to meet with the father.

The moment Jesus finished those words, Jesus disappeared as Rampage continued up the stairs. There was no way in hell he was going to disobey the Lord’s commands. He enters a vast room of worship, singing, and joyful noise all around. The emotions were getting more intense as Rampage kneels, looking up as the Holy Spirit enters him. The image of God is crystal clear.

[Image: e7BKnNj.png]

Rampage: Heavenly Father, it is I, Rampage. I come here obediently, following the command of your son, Jesus. I have questions that seek your guidance and direction. I know you will not do the hard work for me, as you require us to put in the effort and be rewarded for doing so. I come here humbled, knowing that defeating my opponents is a tall task for a mortal man like myself, yet with you, no evil shall prosper. Hear my prayer, O’ Lord, and let me know you are near.

He pauses only for a moment as a towering voice can be heard in the distance. The voice of God was speaking.

God: Rampage, remember that I am omnipresent. No matter what you do, you will never escape the eyes of God. I know everything before you do it and coming here is the right step, for you are troubled, my son. Michael Graves is a disciple of evil. He will tell you things in order to get inside of your head. Remember what my word says in Matthew, verse 15, “Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.” Your opponents know exactly what to say because they know what people want to hear. The truth has not set him free yet, only wanting to profit from the misery of others. Rampage, you have known the TRUTH the moment you were born. You went in a different direction, but I have kept you safe. I will be by your side as you compete and try to silence them. It is not something I take lightly, but I will allow you to do things your way.

Rampage stands never losing contact with God.

Rampage: Permission to speak freely within the holy place?

God gives a slight chuckle, having a great sense of humor. Rampage forgot who he was speaking to as he knew the words that followed would not be kind.

God: The floor is yours, big guy.

Rampage: They have focused this entire week on Michael Graves, Ciela Luiz, and myself in a battle to earn a television title shot. For me, though, it is not about them. I don’t need to respond to what they have said because I’ve earned the right to be in the match. They screwed me out of a straight-up rematch tonight. I SHOULD NOT have to earn another opportunity. It should have been gifted to me. I left everything in the ring against Vita and it wasn’t enough. People want to say I left for many reasons, but God, the truth is I wanted a different approach. It bothered me that I lost the swagger I had when I entered XWF. It bothered me I was outsmarted by the same person who I dominated a month earlier. This probably seems selfish to you, but I do not care. What is the point in proving you deserve a shot when clearly you are the most sought man on the roster? Everyone wants to slay Rampage, and it’s built a different type of anger inside me. The anger I had before was nothing compared to this. I am filled with hatred and the thoughts of chaos cross my mind often. God, you know how I function and it’s nothing to write home about. You made me a big guy with talent and it is time that Rampage lead by example and show the entire XWF once more that I AM BACK!.

God: I know you worry about things you cannot control. The decisions made before your match are final. You act like a coward, scared of a minor challenge and that is not the Rampage I created. Remember Galatians 6:7 that shows us God will not be mocked or proven a fool. You will reap what you sow and that’s what happened to you at Relentless. A man like you took for granted the amount of success you were having, and it was me who took it away. I appreciate your wanting to be a leader, but your actions tell me you have not grown at all. How can I expect you to be the leader of a great company when you don’t even have control over your own life? My words may seem harsh, but it would be wise to listen. Revelations 3:16 warns us, “So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” You can claim all day long you love me or hate me, but don’t switch when you feel like it. The reason everyone has moved on from you is that you allowed them to. You did not give them a reason to miss you. This match that I blessed you with is the chance you wanted. Instead of being filled with hatred, use it as motivation to unleash the true power I’ve given you.

Rampage: I like the stern approach. I wonder if I am considered the underdog for the first time in a while. What do you say to that God?

God: My dear child, do not be foolish. Being the underdog is never a bad thing, for I created it myself. Do you not recall how David took down Goliath? 1st Samuel states, “Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground.” Rampage, you are a modern-day David. You go about your day like all others, but you have hidden confidence that others refuse to see. Once more, they will never define you, only you can do that. You’re paving the legacy you wish to have right now. I will direct you as needed, but trust me when I tell you this. Putting in constant hard work will be very rewarding for your young career. I must leave you now, as the message is quite clear to you. Good luck to you.

Suddenly Rampage opens his eyes. The angels were looking at him and praying for him without even asking. He felt rested and at peace. He struggles to stand. The burden he had was no longer there. He looks around as the images become blurred. His eyes open and it’s the morning of Bad Medicine as he sits on the edge of his bed writing everything he experienced. He closes the notebook, standing up about to get ready for the day.

Rampage: Bad Medicine is not just an event for me. It is not something I take lightly. You can tell some folks take it for granted, but Rampage does not have that luxury. If I am going to be a dominant force, then it is time to show it. Michael Graves and Ciela Luiz will regret pissing me off. Everyone is a talker when the cameras are on, but will you back up all that shit you're saying? Win or lose, I am still a seven-foot badass known as Rampage but Michael or Ciela, if you lose you will look like fools who tried to take on the biggest man around and crashed and burned. I will see you soon and believe me I will be ready for anything you want to try. Blood, seizures, and concussions are in both your futures welcome to Rampage’s memorable night.

He continues to prepare for Bad Medicine it was going to be an epic battle and someone had to lose.


OOC: Good luck to my opponents should be fun!]]> Rampage has been restless all week. He had never felt like this before. Making matters worse every time he went to sleep and closed his eyes, images would appear. He was unsure how to handle this because, up to this point; he was in control. Rampage called his doctor, letting him know what was going on. The doctor was intrigued, but wanted the big guy to sleep and write about everything that happens. It was the only way to determine what message was being sent. Rampage did not like the idea, but perhaps the message would be less sinister this time around. Hanging up with his doctor, Rampage turns off every light and does his best to fall asleep with a notebook nearby, just in case. When he closes his eyes, the images start. It was calmer this time as positive energy flowed throughout Rampage. The image was blurry at first, but soon came into focus.

[Image: AFQA4AEQ-P837161.jpg]

The stairway to heaven was not an image he expected. The guy has not been to church in years and rebelled against God on multiple occasions. Was he dreaming or ready to meet his maker preparing his judgment? It was hard to tell at this point as Rampage walks up the steps making the last turn as another image comes into focus.

[Image: 5gA8YMM.png]

His body tries to wake up the moment it sees Jesus at the top of the stairs. No matter what, though, Rampage would not avoid this experience. It was like God wanted him to see and understand everything that was about to happen. Only a few more steps until he reached Jesus he looks up and spoke to him.

Rampage: Jes..Jes..Jesus, what is happening? Did I die and go to heaven? Are you going to banish me to hell for all my sins? Please forgive me!

Jesus continues to look at Rampage, not saying a word, since Jesus was a man of patience. Letting Rampage finish what needed to be said, he reaches out and touched him on the shoulder. Looking into his eyes, the Son of God spoke.

Jesus: Rampage, you can rest assured that you have not perished and where you will deal with your sins of the earth. I am the Lord, your God, and this visit tells you the truth about any questions you may have. I am always a man of my word Rampage, and I know you have a worry on your mind right now. I already know what the issue is, but I wish for you to open up and tell me yourself.

Rampage was always about fear and pain, but this week Jesus knew he need a different approach. Every time he opens his mouth, Rampage knew Jesus spoke the truth, but he struggled to find the proper question to ask him. He thinks for a while before responding to the Lord.

Rampage: Jesus, I can’t hide anything from you, no matter what I do. I do not even deserve to be speaking with you right now, since I have not been faithfully following you. However, I know better than to keep you waiting, so the first issue I have is that even though I am a former Television Champion Michael Graves feels it was a fluke. Can you believe that? I am one of the hardest working talents in XWF and yet this is blatant disrespect. I want permission to seek revenge on my terms and not by what the Bible says.

There was no reaction from Jesus, which worried Rampage. He understood the need to be accepted, as many reject Jesus daily. No matter what Rampage did, only Jesus knew if it would be enough as he kneels next to him to respond.

Jesus: Rampage, my father created you in his image. That alone means you are perfect. No matter what happens, you cannot go wrong in my eyes. Second, you are strong, sturdy, and steady. You are intelligent, confident, and the toughest guy walking God’s green earth. You NEVER need the approval of others when you have Jesus in your life. I know for a fact that my father looks down at you with full approval and considers you one of his greatest achievements. If Michael Graves feels you do not deserve praise, then go out there and deliver with authority. Do it in my name if you must, but life is about overcoming demons and obstacles. Michael Graves is self-centered and it will be his downfall, my child.

For the first time during this crazy experience, he smiled, knowing that they favored him in the Lord’s eyes. Wiping away tears, Rampage looked into the Lord’s eyes once more.

Rampage: I appreciate the encouraging words and truly believe that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. If I am favored in your eyes, then who can stop me on my way to victory. Michael Graves will realize no one disrespects me without a price. I will not murder him, my Lord, but violence will be the answer to showing him the light and the errors of his ways.

The glow around Jesus intensified as Rampage heard the faint sound of angels as Jesus spoke once more.

Jesus: My dear child, you have come quite a long way since you were a young, rebellious boy. Your heart is still a work in process as you have allowed the evils of this world to consume you. If you are not careful, you will reach a point of no return. It is what Michael Graves wants because it feeds his ego, knowing he made you snap. Do not allow him to see that side of you. Instead, let him see the fire and desire in your eyes that come from your soul.

Rampage: Of course, my Lord. I know it has been tough on me lately. All I have is doubt my entire life, and delivering pain is the only thing I’ve done well. You do not want me to deliver pain to my opponents, but strike the fear of God in them. Michael Graves will understand the meaning of being struck down by an iron fist and it will shake the very foundation of his soul. He will leave Bad Medicine broken, bruised, and battered by the Holy Spirit.

Jesus: Do you have other questions, my child?

Rampage: Michael Graves has strength that concerns me. He is battle-tested, and it’s been a bit since I competed. I am not sure how to approach a man that has the intelligence he possesses. What do you suggest, my Lord?

Jesus: Rampage, my suggestion is very simple. You seek my father’s advice, for I am not him and he has the final say in all things. Being this is a dream right, my child, I want you to continue on this journey. It is important you finish the visions to reach your true potential of being rewired by my father. The time has come for me to leave you, but continue up the stairs to meet with the father.

The moment Jesus finished those words, Jesus disappeared as Rampage continued up the stairs. There was no way in hell he was going to disobey the Lord’s commands. He enters a vast room of worship, singing, and joyful noise all around. The emotions were getting more intense as Rampage kneels, looking up as the Holy Spirit enters him. The image of God is crystal clear.

[Image: e7BKnNj.png]

Rampage: Heavenly Father, it is I, Rampage. I come here obediently, following the command of your son, Jesus. I have questions that seek your guidance and direction. I know you will not do the hard work for me, as you require us to put in the effort and be rewarded for doing so. I come here humbled, knowing that defeating my opponents is a tall task for a mortal man like myself, yet with you, no evil shall prosper. Hear my prayer, O’ Lord, and let me know you are near.

He pauses only for a moment as a towering voice can be heard in the distance. The voice of God was speaking.

God: Rampage, remember that I am omnipresent. No matter what you do, you will never escape the eyes of God. I know everything before you do it and coming here is the right step, for you are troubled, my son. Michael Graves is a disciple of evil. He will tell you things in order to get inside of your head. Remember what my word says in Matthew, verse 15, “Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.” Your opponents know exactly what to say because they know what people want to hear. The truth has not set him free yet, only wanting to profit from the misery of others. Rampage, you have known the TRUTH the moment you were born. You went in a different direction, but I have kept you safe. I will be by your side as you compete and try to silence them. It is not something I take lightly, but I will allow you to do things your way.

Rampage stands never losing contact with God.

Rampage: Permission to speak freely within the holy place?

God gives a slight chuckle, having a great sense of humor. Rampage forgot who he was speaking to as he knew the words that followed would not be kind.

God: The floor is yours, big guy.

Rampage: They have focused this entire week on Michael Graves, Ciela Luiz, and myself in a battle to earn a television title shot. For me, though, it is not about them. I don’t need to respond to what they have said because I’ve earned the right to be in the match. They screwed me out of a straight-up rematch tonight. I SHOULD NOT have to earn another opportunity. It should have been gifted to me. I left everything in the ring against Vita and it wasn’t enough. People want to say I left for many reasons, but God, the truth is I wanted a different approach. It bothered me that I lost the swagger I had when I entered XWF. It bothered me I was outsmarted by the same person who I dominated a month earlier. This probably seems selfish to you, but I do not care. What is the point in proving you deserve a shot when clearly you are the most sought man on the roster? Everyone wants to slay Rampage, and it’s built a different type of anger inside me. The anger I had before was nothing compared to this. I am filled with hatred and the thoughts of chaos cross my mind often. God, you know how I function and it’s nothing to write home about. You made me a big guy with talent and it is time that Rampage lead by example and show the entire XWF once more that I AM BACK!.

God: I know you worry about things you cannot control. The decisions made before your match are final. You act like a coward, scared of a minor challenge and that is not the Rampage I created. Remember Galatians 6:7 that shows us God will not be mocked or proven a fool. You will reap what you sow and that’s what happened to you at Relentless. A man like you took for granted the amount of success you were having, and it was me who took it away. I appreciate your wanting to be a leader, but your actions tell me you have not grown at all. How can I expect you to be the leader of a great company when you don’t even have control over your own life? My words may seem harsh, but it would be wise to listen. Revelations 3:16 warns us, “So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” You can claim all day long you love me or hate me, but don’t switch when you feel like it. The reason everyone has moved on from you is that you allowed them to. You did not give them a reason to miss you. This match that I blessed you with is the chance you wanted. Instead of being filled with hatred, use it as motivation to unleash the true power I’ve given you.

Rampage: I like the stern approach. I wonder if I am considered the underdog for the first time in a while. What do you say to that God?

God: My dear child, do not be foolish. Being the underdog is never a bad thing, for I created it myself. Do you not recall how David took down Goliath? 1st Samuel states, “Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground.” Rampage, you are a modern-day David. You go about your day like all others, but you have hidden confidence that others refuse to see. Once more, they will never define you, only you can do that. You’re paving the legacy you wish to have right now. I will direct you as needed, but trust me when I tell you this. Putting in constant hard work will be very rewarding for your young career. I must leave you now, as the message is quite clear to you. Good luck to you.

Suddenly Rampage opens his eyes. The angels were looking at him and praying for him without even asking. He felt rested and at peace. He struggles to stand. The burden he had was no longer there. He looks around as the images become blurred. His eyes open and it’s the morning of Bad Medicine as he sits on the edge of his bed writing everything he experienced. He closes the notebook, standing up about to get ready for the day.

Rampage: Bad Medicine is not just an event for me. It is not something I take lightly. You can tell some folks take it for granted, but Rampage does not have that luxury. If I am going to be a dominant force, then it is time to show it. Michael Graves and Ciela Luiz will regret pissing me off. Everyone is a talker when the cameras are on, but will you back up all that shit you're saying? Win or lose, I am still a seven-foot badass known as Rampage but Michael or Ciela, if you lose you will look like fools who tried to take on the biggest man around and crashed and burned. I will see you soon and believe me I will be ready for anything you want to try. Blood, seizures, and concussions are in both your futures welcome to Rampage’s memorable night.

He continues to prepare for Bad Medicine it was going to be an epic battle and someone had to lose.


OOC: Good luck to my opponents should be fun!]]> <![CDATA[The Daughter of Alias Saga #6: Semicolon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42309 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 18:23:59 -0800 ALIAS]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42309



                                                                                                                              

























































6A: On Cars, Ashgabat, and Women




A perfectly normal car pulled up outside a perfectly normal house, that sat at the end of a perfectly normal driveway, off a perfectly normal road, in a perfectly normal city. I have, of course, already explained ‘cities’, ‘roads’, and ‘houses’ to you once before. A ‘car’, however, is much like a small ‘ship’, which I also have described. The main point of difference between the two is that while ‘ships’ are built to mostly float on top of the large swathes of oxidane that coat the exterior of this planet, a ‘car’ is instead placed upon those ‘roads’ I mentioned, and it doesn’t typically do a good job of floating at all. It is, however, propelled along said ‘roads’ by an internal combustion engine, or even more archaically, an electric motor. It is yet another eccentricity of these beings that they discovered the former before the latter. They now are in the midst of a revolution towards replacing all of these ‘cars’, and indeed other modes of transport, with electric varietals, blissfully ignorant to the fact that there is a small child in the middle of one of their cities nominally referred to as Ashgabat, who has discovered a new fuel source derived from the flatulence of the Transcapian saw-scaled viper which, as you know, as identical in chemical composition to the fuel used by our interdimensional, dare I say, ‘ships’. Were the populace of this planet mindful enough of this discovery, they would quickly be able to adapt their existing technologies and advance their civilisation considerably. Of course they choose to do the exact opposite, and doom themselves to a millennia of misfortune. This is a fair reflection of why the subject is so interesting. In her, I see the chance for them to change.

Outside of that perfectly normal ‘house’, a woman opens up the door. ‘Woman’, being the singular term for the member of their species tasked with partirution, as they have not yet grown beyond the need for such a division. Some creatures in those masses of planetary oxidane are closer in their evolution towards the hermaphroditic synchronicity needed to populate The Universe, but sillily, those species forgot to evolve opposable thumbs. It’s like everything on this planet is doing things deliberately wrong.

That ‘woman’ goes inside the ‘house’. The subject goes with her.






6B: Perfectly Normal

“Tea?” the woman asks, as soon as we enter the house. A fleeting memory of that word taps away in the back of my mind, like a dream that doesn’t want to be remembered.

“Thank you,” I say anyway, in Korean. I allow whatever it was that tried to get in to pass me by.

For her part, the girl isn’t interested in tea. That feels different, but it makes sense. She’s still young, after all.

The woman gets to work, preparing the leaves and boiling some water in the kitchen. She leaves us to our own devices, and the girl clings to my chest as I carry her into what appears to be the living room. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it looks much the same as a living room would in any of the other countries that I remember going to. A television; a couch; a coffee table. Those are more or less the key amenities, as they would be anywhere else. Shelves and cabinets dot the edge of the room, and a photo framed in an ornately carved red pine draws my eye.

I set the girl on the ground and allow her space to wander. A scour of the room doesn’t turn up any potential hazards that her curiosity might uncover, but if I’ve learned anything over the last two weeks it's that she has a unique way of turning up things that were never even there. I’ve mused on this phrase once before, but it boils up once again from that fucking motif library that’s stashed away in my brain somewhere: like father, like daughter.

As I approach the picture, I make sure to keep the girl in my sights. She plods her way around the room, before taking great interest in a glass bowl full of shiny black rocks that sits as a centrepiece on the coffee table. The library doesn’t turn up anything on that, so I get a chance to split my attention.

Atop a mountain, overseeing a lush green vista, two smiling women beam right through the photo, and into my heart.

It’s the woman whose house we’re in. The one we met under the great camphor after our journey with the North Korean War Criminal.

In the photo, she drapes her arm over the shoulder of another woman, who shares a remarkable physical resemblance.

Her sister.

The girl’s mother.

“Here you go,” the woman says, as she enters the room. In her hands are two pale blue mugs with steam rising from them. She hands one to me, and I take it with my gloved hand, wrapping my fingers tight around it in spite of the boiling tea within. Even with that layer of protection, a normal person would still feel the heat through the fabric.

Me though? You could shoot a crimson blast of mystical shitfuckery at that hand, and it wouldn’t register a thing. Nothing can damage it.

Not anymore.

“Thank you,” I say once again, careful not to burn my lips as I take a miniscule sip and the woman steps up beside me. Forlorn, she looks at her sister’s face.

“She was always the life of the party,” she tells me. I’ll keep doing the translation work for you. “But she never seemed… satisfied. Even after getting married, she had such a thirst for new experiences. It was her idea to go to America, you know? And when she fell pregnant, she was determined to stay. I never even got a chance to meet her daughter.”

“Until now.” We both turn at the same, watching as the girl meticulously counts each small stone that she takes out of the bowl. For all the things that she can do; all of the things that she says she knows, there are still a lot of limitations on her young mind.

There are six-hundred and twenty-three stones in the bowl.

I know this.

The tea is still hot, but has become a little more bearable to the tongue. I risk a bigger sip.

“Let’s sit down,” the girl’s aunt suggests. I follow her over towards the centre of the room and take up a pew on the couch right behind where the girl kneels. The woman lowers herself into a matching armchair, at a slightly obtuse angle from me.

“How long do we have to wait?” I say, without looking. The woman doesn’t look at me, either. We both sit and sip our teas, while watching the girl count rocks. There was something calming about it all. Something perfectly normal. It helped that she knew everything already. I had been open with her. If only others appreciated that as much as she did. I told her how I came to be the girl’s steward, and then I went even further with that. I told her about the other stuff too. About the girl and what we had experienced. What she was capable of. And of course… how everything keeps turning up Alias. She accepted it all with a grace that suggested she wasn’t surprised. Almost like she expected it.

“Not long at all,” she said, sipping from her own tea. “I messaged them when we left, and again when we were about thirty minutes out. They’ll be here soon.”

They.

The girl’s family.

Her real family. Not me.

I’m not real.

The journey had taken about three hours. I don’t know what that said about where NK had taken us, but it had made for a long enough drive to catch the girl’s aunt up on everything. And a long enough drive for a lump to form in my throat.

A real lump, figuratively speaking. Heh.

BZZZZZZZT!

The doorbell rings. I look to the woman with a level of expectation. I’m not alone. From where she leans over the bowl of stones, the girl looks up too.

The woman nods.

This is it.

The girl is about to meet her family.

Together, we all make our way towards the very same front door that we had come through not that long ago. The girl clings to the leg of my jeans, making sure that we don’t get separated.

It’s the woman who opens the door, and the three of us are met with three of them.

“Welcome,” the woman whose house this is, greets them.

On the sight of them, that nagging feeling that danced in the background of my mind returned. There was a vague familiarity about all this. I feel the girl tug tight against my pant leg. Does she feel it too?

In the faces of the three visitors, I see some similarity to the woman. And to the girl. They stand before him as if they’re on display. Like I could walk up to each of them and select which direction I would go. Which path I would choose. It was like I could choose my own adventure.

I guess I can.

I. Not you. Not this time.

From left to right, I scan across their faces.

The first is a woman, younger than the girl’s aunt but still an adult. She has dyed her hair blue and the faint shadow of what may one day grow into an actual moustache sits upon her upper lip. It’s matched by dark black streaks of hair that I observe on her bare arms. She’s hairy. Furry. As I ever do, I look into her eyes. Yesterday’s moon still lingers there, washing the darkness from the brown in her eyes.

“Cousin,” the girl’s aunt tells me, explaining this wild creature’s relationship to the girl. There were other words said as well, as the woman greeted each of these visitors in a perfectly normal way, but at the moment I’m just extracting some of the key information.

Whatever the difference in age between the girl’s aunt and her cousin, the reverse is true between the aunt and the crone that stands second in the line outside the house. Not willing to lose sight of a youth that long since departed, the grey of her hair is washed with red, the combination of which leaves it almost pink. Around her face, particularly on her nose, are a series of blemishes and rises in her skin. Here she is, warts and all, with eyes black and cold.

“My own aunt,” I hear the original woman say, still abridged from her wider dialogue.

Rounding out the line is a male. He isn’t particularly tall, and carries a lot more weight on his torso than would likely be healthy. With the touches of grey speckled throughout his hair, I suspect that he’s about the same age as the girl’s aunt, but the youth in his face throws doubt. Round spectacles hang off his broad nose, bending the light that twinkles in his deceitful eye. He wipes at them, oddly, while they remain on his face. With the distortion of the light and the movement of his hands, it looks as though he closes his eyes. Sideways.

“My brother,” I take, from the woman’s greater introduction.

“Pleased to meet you all,” I bow, ever so slightly.

This is not the first moot that I have attended. I have walked into the hall of the Gods themselves and laid waste to them all. If you’re inclined to believe me, that is. But this is the moot that I attend now. The gathering of a family that I, nor you, know nothing about.

The moot is about to begin.

To decide the fate of the girl.


~~~




And the world.


~~~


I hold the door open as the family members stream in. As she leads the parade through the house, I can tell that the girl’s aunt is giddy. I don’t think she’s had everyone together at once in quite some time. These three, I was told, represent the different branches of the family. The vagueness of that statement hints at something else. It’s clear that I don’t have all of the information.

Perhaps this isn’t perfectly normal after all.

Three guests had arrived, and the girl still remained calm and quiet. I was beginning to get used to this. The aunt told me that there was going to be four, however.

“Comrade Alias!” interjects a voice, just as I’m about to close the door.

Now there are four.




6C: Failure


Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Lycana.
Lycana, who?
Lycana’s going to become the next Universal Champion
Holy shit, that’s the funniest joke I have ever heard in my life.
Yup.

”Directly contradict this, directly contradict that. Yadda, yadda, fucking yadda.

It’s all a bit rich, you know? Coming from you. Coming from fucking anyone, really. Even me!

But hey, since I keep having to spell shit out for you like you’re a child, let’s mosey on back to what you view to be the most egregious of my failings.

I told everyone it took killing me to beat me, and that obviously was a reference to you. But then…

I told you that you didn’t kill me.

Seems like a pickle for me to twist out of, right?

Is it poor form to answer a question with a question?

Hey Tav’... you ‘stopped’ me, but did you really?

Bish, this is the same fucking conversation. You’ve just abandoned one argument only to paint it up again in different words and now you’re walking around acting like it’s some sort of silver bullet. You uh… you know what gets killed with silver bullets, don’t ya? Looks like I found a use for that fucking shotgun I mentioned!

Guess what? You did kill me. And you didn’t.

That’s the fucking point.

Want to call me a contradiction?

That’s the fucking point!

Oh sure I’ve denied it when you’ve pulled out some of that selective deliberate deafness and plucked shit out of context, ignoring what I said immediately before or after. But in terms of contradictions… is that supposed to be telling me something that I don’t know?

I told you I knew what I said, didn’t I? Or are you ignoring that? Better get back to those archives again, girl, but this time, dig deeper. Don’t just focus on what I’ve said. Branch out and start looking into what I’ve done too. Or what I’ve said I’ve done. Not just in the XWF. In fucking life. Or are we supposed to pretend the rest of it doesn’t matter? Why would we be airing it then, eh?

From the very first time that I was shat out onto the floor of the XWF once again, I set the fucking frame for everything that I’ve been doing. I’ve been telling you how I perceive the world. There is no camera following me around. There’s just me telling stories about what I’ve been doing. Telling you about how The Universe communicates to me.

Are you really trying to tell the guy who talked to a fucking Salmon-Coloured Minotaur that he’s said and done things that are inconsistent with other things that he’s said and done? That he’s… crazy?

I thought you were doing your research?

You’ve over-corrected towards the surface and now you’re also missing all of the metaphors that I’ve absolutely been consistent about mentioning! You need both, Shit-Goth-Bulma! Consistently inconsistent, or inconsistently consistent? Pick your fucking poision.

What does killing someone mean to you, Tav’? What does a phoenix mean? What does me standing here in flesh and fucking blood mean?

Twist. Sidestep. Limbo. Fosbury Flop. A fucking pole vault. Dodge, dip, duck, dive, and dodge. I’ve said that last one before too - did you find that? Have you made the fucking connection yet?

Do you believe that I could have survived that fire? Do you believe that pile of ash that remained within that cage was the last of my remains? Do you believe that I was sent back by the fucking sun, and that my body magically reappeared out of fire?

Did you kill me?

I think you did and I think you didn’t. Right now. Still. Even with you standing there calling me a liar.

You’ve landed on ‘yes’. Cool. That’s the surface. Now ask yourself… was it just a metaphor? Yeah… you’re still refusing to even take a stab at that, aren’t you? It makes you… uncomfortable… to even begin sifting through what’s on the surface and what isn’t. It’s that over-correction. You carried yourself as if you were better than all this, but after everything you said you ‘respected’ about me, you clearly skipped the meat and potatoes. You skipped what it is that makes me, me. And now you’re acting like me controlling my own narrative is something that is either a shocking revelation, or something I’m supposed to be ashamed of. You ‘see’ me? You need to get your eyes checked because all you’re seeing is this picture of me that you’ve created. Swing and a fucking miss, darling. Keep your eye on the fucking ball.

What happened to the whole ‘enigma’ deal, Tavora? Now that you’re not hearing what you want to hear when we speak, are you so willing to cast all of your aspersions about me aside so easily? You’re throwing the baby out with the bath water because you can’t figure out which is fucking which. That’s amateur hour. Such a shame. So focused on proving you’re being honest with me that you ain’t even being honest with yourself. You’re asking me questions but not looking for your own answers.

What if…?

What if I did lie to everyone else, but I’m being truthful to you? Boy, that would sure throw everything off for ya, wouldn’t it? However would you pretend you didn’t LITERALLY ask if I was contradicting myself back at Leap of Faith or now? What, so you already knew the answer? You already knew I owned my failings? What the fuck were you even saying, then? Or were you just looking for something to say for the sake of saying something? Like getting pissy at me even using the word ‘literally’. Fuck, I didn’t even clock that you used that word. It was just a theme, a gag, a motif.

Alias doing Alias things.

But it sure as shit showed your hand, didn’t it? I didn’t even fucking intend for that, but here you are spilling your guts all over the sidewalk for me.

Tavora, you just showed me how you can’t discern the surface truths from the metaphors.

Fuck me, this is a pretty nasty look for you. You’re LITERALLY getting down in the weeds about fucking word usage now. Not a saying, a fucking word! I thought you were above this shit? Jot this down for the future, Tav’: attacking someone with the word ‘narrative’ in a pre-fight exchange is akin to calling someone fucking Hitler in an internet argument.

Dumb. As. Fuck.

We all have our narratives. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be fucking talking. The problem isn’t in me using your words, or you using mine. It’s the ignoring that you do it too. It’s the ignoring that I fucking own it. It’s the ignoring that you acted like you wouldn’t. That you didn’t intend to from the get go.

But you fucking did it. You’ve owned the action now, but not all that it entails. Not that it was your intent.

Because you’re lying to yourself about who you are. Twist. Turn. Fucking crunch.

And now we’re back at those differences, Tav’. Because if you can’t align your head with your fucking mouth, I’ll do it for you.

I mean, if you don't want to keep repeating yourself, like you’ve lamented so many times already, you could always find something new to say.

But you won't.

Because that’s not who you are.

We both know who I was back at Leap of Faith. You act like you know who I am now, but your exasperation at everything that comes with it clearly shows you don’t.

You’re fucking cooked.

I’ll give you another chance though. I’m going to ask you another question, and I suppose with the way the cards are falling, your last chance to answer will be there in the middle of The Universe, when we are standing face-to-face:

Are you happy?

Heh…

You know what I did there, right?

The carnival should be a happy place. From rollercoasters to merry-go-rounds. Fast or slow. It’s all a blast! Shit, you’re even out here trying to play fucking whack-a-mole too - trying to hit whatever you can. Except…

Respect? Missed it.

Dynamics? Fucking missed it.

Me? Missed me with all that shit.

‘Cause I’m not even there. You’re getting off the coaster, the merry-go-round, and even the ferris wheel. Each of them lets you off at the exact same point at which you got on. I didn’t say those rides go on forever. You LITERALLY made that up. I said they just end exactly where you were.

Where you got on.

Where you get off.

Back at the fucking start.

Don’t feel bad, I’m still where we started too though. You’re bouncing from ride to ride like you’re being chased by a Reggie-monster through Dollywood. Massive throwback there, did you dig back that far?

I’m still over here in the funhouse.

Come on in again. You’re going to have to. Because remember… you’re stepping into my Universe.

And here? All the mirrors are still making you look like shit.”




6D: The Girl

“…I am a shining example of honour and virtue; a master of many forms of combat; fluent in fifty-seven different dialects of American English;…” There are only about thirty. “…I won the hammer throw at the 1988 Secret Olympics with two broken arms; am capable of penetrating the most advanced MS-DOS systems on the planet; can hold my breath underwater for two whole minutes; currently hold the North Korean record for best bowling game with a score of three-hundred and fourteen; can fold a fitted sheet by myself; and am the greatest practitioner in recorded history of the super secret schoolMAN technique to finishing wrestling matches.”

That’s how the North Korean War Criminal introduces himself to the family.

They don’t want him there. I don’t even know how he found us.

"This is a family affair," the girl's aunt says to me, among other things. "You need to get your friend to leave."

I don't really know if 'friend' is the right word, but I suppose it's close enough. I do know what they're not paying attention to, however. As each member of the family screams at NK, and he flops to the ground in what he would later call the Sisyphus defence (one can push him as much as they want, but like a boulder up a hill he will always fall back into place), my eyes fall only on the girl.

She's not bothered by his presence.

She was bothered by him on the ship, until he started reading out his research. She was again at the Definitely-A-Secret-North-Korean-Base. But here? She treats him like she does her family. Including me.

Basically by ignoring him and resuming counting stones.

Why him? Why Morbid Angel? Why Lycana? One of them, I’m consider a ‘friend’, I guess. One, an ‘enemy’. The other… a bit of both. What does she know?

The argument continues.

The blue-haired woman, who represents the branch of the family known as The Wolves, demands that the girl come with her. She will train her to fight.

The red-tinged hag, who represents the branch of the family known as The Witches, makes demands of her own. She promises to train the girl to know. Ironic then, that she doesn’t realise that the girl already ‘knows’. The hag herself doesn’t know.

The pudgy man, who represents the branch of the family known as The Aliens, tells us that he’ll take the girl along with him as they explore the unknown. He says he’ll train her to explore. Sounds kind of shit to me.

The North Korean War Criminal simply promises to teach her to be the second-most virtuous, third-most valiant, and first-equal in terms of devotion. He didn’t say what any of that was in reference to.

The family is divided. No consensus can be earned. I don’t know how literal the family divisions are supposed to be interpreted as, but they feel pretty on the fucking nose. One of the more significant mysteries, in my mind, is what the girl’s aunt, and by proxy, her sister, represent.

“Enough!” a domineering voice echoes throughout the living room. Standing in the entranceway is a woman as old as the red witch, but without the imperfections. Her voice cuts through all dissent; even NK shuts up. The girl’s aunt looks meek as she scurries to this matron’s side. WIth the way that she stands, shrunken and passive, while yielding control over her own house to this woman, I determine the relationship pretty quickly.

This is her mother. The girl’s grandmother.

And she represents power.

The matron cuts through silence towards the girl.

“Hello,” she says, crouching down.

“Hi,” the girl replies, still counting.

“Six-hundred and twenty-three,” the matron says, echoing my own count.

“I know,” the girl says, continuing to take stones out of the bowl.

“Oh?” the matron remarks in surprise. “What are you doing then?”

“There are six-hundred and twenty-three stones in this bowl,” she explains, repeating what we all know by now. “But there is only one… of these!”

She lifts her hand up to show the matron. Sitting on the tip of her finger is a snail. Its shell is as shiny and black as the stones were, and only the very tip of its head pokes its way out from underneath its protective outer.

The matron purses her lips as she reaches down and plucks the snail from the girl’s finger. She holds it up so that the light catches its shell. It’s quite remarkable actually.

Until it gets crushed under her fingers.

The matron crouches down again and looks the girl square in the eyes. Like I would. From the distance that I watch from, I see what I’ve seen a thousand times by now. Water begins to fill the girl’s eyes.

“Do you know why snails have shells?” she asks. The girl shakes her head, and I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t know as much as she thinks, or just a product of the intensity that this woman exudes. Even though she wants to cry, in the face of her grandmother, her tears are kept at bay. “Because their bodies are weak. Your body is not weak, is it?”

Again, the girl shakes her head. Satisfied, her grandmother rises up once more, and looks around to the rest of her family.

“There will be no debate,” she says, flat and firm. “My granddaughter will come with me. She will reclaim the birthright that my daughter took from her.”

The girl’s aunt shrinks even further as she thinks about her sister.

“And she will reclaim her name.” The matron lets that sentence hover in the air. The hairs on the back of my neck bristle at the prospect.

A name.

“Come, Paritegi,” she commands of the girl.

A name.

Paritegi.

Wherefore art thou Paritegi?

There is no resistance nor argument from the family. However…

“She will come with me!” the North Korean War Criminal insists. He plants both his feet into the ground, but does nothing to block the path. The grandmother just ignores him, while the girl - Paritegi - gives him a little wave on her way out.

Someone else blocks the path though.

I fucking do.

I went through all of this, just to what? Have it undercut it at the end?

“No.” My arms cross across my chest and my voice does not waver. I stand in front of the door, and force the grandmother to notice me for the first time.

“You are The Deliverer?” she asks, with almost an air of thanks to her words.

“Call me whatever you want,” I reply. I, The Label-Gatherer.

None of this feels right. If I’m serious about trying to be better, then I can’t in good conscience allow this to proceed. The Universe brought me here for a reason.

“The girl isn’t going with you.”

“Yes, I am.” It’s the girl. Both the matron and I look down at her, and this time, we shrink.

It was not just The Universe, was it? It was her. She led me here. She directed the path. The Universe brought me into her life so that I could get her here for this very moment.

“It’s going to be okay,” she reassures. “This is the necessity. You did it.”

She’s calm but she isn’t happy. On that I can relate. It has been common practice for me to feel more attuned to her emotions than anyone else I’ve ever met. To feel that connection.

I did it.

“You can move now,” the grandmother says, but where my voice didn’t waver, I can hear a slight quiver in hers. Good. She needs to know.

I will keep the girl safe.

“We’ll meet again,” the girl says, encouraging me to do as the matron asked. I step to the side and let them pass.

“Goodbye,” I whisper, and that finally brings a smile to Paritegi’s face.

Watching as they walk to a non-descript black van, NK appears by my side. There she goes, a girl with a name. I say it in my head. ‘Paritegi’. Watched by people called Alias and the North Korean War Criminal. That’s gotta be a fucking joke. Maybe I should try it on Lycana to see if she finds a way to get defensive about it.

“Comrade Alias,” NK speaks in English, so that the others wouldn’t overhear. “Shall we coordinate a counterattack?”

“No,” I say. “She’s where she needs to be. I… I played my role.”

I did it.

I smile at him. He does his best to return it, and that just makes me smile even more. Chuckle, even. He mimics, doing his best to fit in.

“You played your role too, NK,” I tell him. I think some genuine emotion actually creeps in on his face. If it did, it’s gone before I could be sure.

“Shall we check the shipping routes for a path back to New York then?” he asks, thinking ahead. “We cannot defend our championships without being there to actually compete. Do you have the… Magic Clock?”

Somehow, he’s pulled his massive notebook out of hammerspace again, and is ready to jot down my response.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Let’s do it.”

We walk out of the house, and off into the world. NK begins to chatter about the plan to get us back to Busan, but in truth I’m only half paying attention. The girl’s… Paritegi’s… final words are still rattling around my head.

“We’ll meet again.”

As if the family of fucking weirdos that NK and I leave behind wasn’t enough, those words give away the goat. They whip around my head again.

“We’ll meet again.”

I know what that means.

This is a semicolon, not a period.

The story isn’t over.

Which means that no matter what happens, there’s only one thing in my power to do now to get to the next chapter.

Fucking FIGHT.




6E: Better Man

“I’ve asked you this a few times now, Tavora, in varying contexts, but I’ll give it one more crack. I’m not optimistic about you even understanding the question given how your abject bed-shitting has continued, but we still have this time left so why not try to make the most of it?

‘How’d I do?’

I framed this all at the beginning about trying to ‘be better’.

Did I?

Did I stick the fucking landing?

Am I ‘better’?

I mean, you’ve been so full of compliments, right? You should be able to tell me.

Yeah… right.

Oh, there I go again, casting shade. Shit, maybe I am bad at receiving praise. It tracks though. The life I’ve lived - or said I have - it fits, you know? It’s clinically consistent, for wherever consistency is worth now. Not that you’d be able to ‘help’ on that front. Each time you open that asshole on your face, you spend so much time talking about how you expected me to address you differently than I have. That doesn’t sound like someone who sees me. That doesn’t sound like someone who understands. That sure as shit doesn’t sound like someone so full of compliments. I don’t take them well? Fuck, you’re not giving them well.

But that’s okay. That’s at least what I expected of you.

Because… I see you.

SEE how easy that is?

No. You don’t.

Apt analogy with that kaleidoscope, pal. That’s exactly what you see. You see a kid colouring a purple duck, but only describe it as the colour or the animal. Purple. Or Duck. Never both. And your hearing? Well I think you forgot to hit unmute on the telly when the commercials were over, and now whatever it is you see, just doesn’t have any context.

How’d I do? Am I ‘better’?

You wouldn’t even fucking know. You don’t even want to.

You’re too busy looking for points where what I was and what I am are different, and shouting them down like it’s something I haven’t said myself; like it’s something you haven’t said yourself. And then you get all bent out of shape, wait, no, these should be your words right? Umm… ’uppity’! Yeah, that sounds about right. You get ‘uppity’ when I ever call you out on it. You keep acting like you’ve acknowledged things were different, but you’ve also gone on a - wait for it! - fucking rollercoaster about which parts. I thought we had reached an agreement on all that last time, but wow. Apparently not.

Hey, since what’s different and what isn’t seems to be a common theme for us right now, let’s go for one more round, eh? Let’s talk about having a different lens on life. About ‘being better’. That’s my schtick this fortnight, in case you didn't notice. I would’ve thought that you had picked it up given how much you’ve seen’. Not you though. It takes a special talent to miss the fucking mark when it’s literally within touching distance. But then you couldn’t go and claim to not be surprised, disappointed, or insert-appropriate-adjective-here, when that LITERALLY describes how you were acting.

Oh, sorry, did I lose you at ‘fortnight’? That refers to a period of two weeks in pretty much every other country other than the United States. I realise you might know that already given you’re at least a little more otherworldly than your average wolf, but based on the way this has all played out, I figured I’d play it safe and explain it like you’re a fucking a child because… well… you know. We’ve covered that.

Must be that rollercoaster again. Stuck upside down in the loop-de-loop and you desperately need to go to the bathroom. There’s only one way that’s going, right?

And would you look at that?! I managed to reference your bathroom habits again! I probably wouldn’t have to if you didn’t keep taking a shit in public. Well take a selfie of this moment, Tav’, because it’s the last moment before you’re forced to confront the fact that all the ‘growth’ you said you were trying to make… it’s the wrong kind of ‘growth’. It’s malignant. BUT the good news is, I can get it out of you! I just need to go in through your mouth. With my hand this time instead of my words.

Here’s some of your own to lube it up:

You don’t believe that you make me better? Hmph.

I ‘chased my tail coming after you quite a bit in the beginning before I found my way’. Hmph again.

Is that… is that supposed to be an example of me not becoming better? Is that supposed to show anything other than a guy who was in the goodman loony bin finally finding his path in life? Sounds like someone became… ‘better’. In a couple of senses of the word, even. You know… like I fucking said at the beginning.

‘Amazing’.

It’s awfully great when the very next sentence someone says breaks apart their entire argument, isn’t it? You should try it next time you go for a fucking ‘gotcha’.

Oh, but you don’t do that, do you? Nope! You said I needed to own that, despite the fact that you’ve obviously seen where I very much did own it against Bobby Bourbon. You know, before you even flapped your rancid gums. Before I shove my hand down his. Ignoring things for a soundbite. No owning it for you, though, right? We both agree that you don't have to get back on that rollercoaster, but you’ve taken five trips by now this fortnight alone. Are you really going for a sixth?

Even though I’m telling you what you’re doing, you don’t even realise you’re doing it.

Sight without hearing.

Speech without thinking.

Sometimes, we don’t need to think though, do we? Since you asked, I don’t think much about why you helped me. Before The Universe was mine, I had a lot of trouble discerning that more abstract drive from my own, more base instincts. You know that. You felt it, and you still have the teeth marks in your skin to show it. But with The Universe in my hands, that hasn’t been a problem for me anymore. I turned up to your little boarding kennel knowing that I would find what I needed there. If that meant you letting me in, as it did, then so be it. I wasn’t surprised, but I was prepared for something else if I needed to be. Something more; something worse; something… deadly. If that’s what The Universe required, then so be it. I was prepared to die that day, Tavora, as I was when you appeared in front of me on that road.

As I am today.

As I will be tomorrow.

As I am every day.

That doesn’t mean I roll over and let it happen though. I just know that with The Universe in my hands, even death is temporary. It is, as you would say, a contradiction.

That’s the fucking point. Or so I can surmise, if you’ll believe this unreliable narrator.

I don’t need you to be afraid of me. I just need you to realise what this is if there is to be any chance of a… err… ‘productive’ relationship going forward between us. It’s not that I seek to step on you, you just happen to be the step. Does that make sense? Try to understand it. Put aside your fucking ‘gotcha’ games, and try to engage with things on a better level than that before you get knocked on your ‘good seat’ without you even knowing what’s what. I may not hate you anymore, but I think we’ve established that we’re not exactly gonna be on each other’s Christmas card lists. Still… for all the differences that we’ve uncovered, we have, however, settled on something that we have in common. I’m not sure if you picked up on it.

We both believe The Universe is guiding us.

Here’s the thing though, since taking possession of It, I’ve damn well fucking showed that it’s guiding me. When The Universe tells me that my fight will continue, it continues, doesn’t it? Not in the pick yourself up and try again type that you’ve been talking about. Not like that ‘Ever forward’ of yours either, since that turned out to be a crock of shit.

I’m talking about everything I’ve ever said coming true for the last six fucking months. Death and survival included, if you catch my drift.

For you, that’s probably going to sound as convincing as your rationale does to me. ‘You will because you have’ is the gist of it, right?

But you haven’t. I’m different. You said it. Yadda yadda fucking yadda. Deliberate repetition. Rollercoaster’s back at the fucking beginning.

Tav’... this ain’t fucking Frozen meets Game of Thrones meets Twilight. There is no Team Edward or Jacob, just as there is no Team Lycana.

There is just The Universe. There is me. Those two things are pretty much the same thing by now.

I’m doing what I do.

I’m gonna Eat Lycana.

…

Come on, tell me you weren’t waiting for me to say it?

Ex-oh-ex-oh!

It’s fucking time. And in case you haven’t been paying attention, time, like The Universe, Is fucking MINE.

…

...

Fifty-nine ‘fucks’ - that one included. Did I beat TK?”



6F: The Story Isn’t Finished



As a byproduct of their ability to communicate, these beings have managed to construct a series of stories through which they transfer messages about the world. As with everything, they insist on coming up with names to label these stories, but they often struggle to define a clear boundary between some of these words. Two words of note in this space are ‘myth’ and ‘religion’. As best I can tell, they are the same type of story, save for ‘myths’ having value and belief systems attached to them that are no longer relevant to the timeframe in which the story is shared. You will, of course, remember that this species still, quite humorously, views the passage of time as a linear process. A ‘religion’ on the other hand, is just a collection of stories that has some level of social acceptance within their narrow…

Oh…

Oh, hello. You’re back.

What… what are you doing?

What’s that for?

No. Don’t do that.

Don’t do that.

Stop it.

You’re going to…

You’re going to…

You’re…

…

…

…

]]>



                                                                                                                              

























































6A: On Cars, Ashgabat, and Women




A perfectly normal car pulled up outside a perfectly normal house, that sat at the end of a perfectly normal driveway, off a perfectly normal road, in a perfectly normal city. I have, of course, already explained ‘cities’, ‘roads’, and ‘houses’ to you once before. A ‘car’, however, is much like a small ‘ship’, which I also have described. The main point of difference between the two is that while ‘ships’ are built to mostly float on top of the large swathes of oxidane that coat the exterior of this planet, a ‘car’ is instead placed upon those ‘roads’ I mentioned, and it doesn’t typically do a good job of floating at all. It is, however, propelled along said ‘roads’ by an internal combustion engine, or even more archaically, an electric motor. It is yet another eccentricity of these beings that they discovered the former before the latter. They now are in the midst of a revolution towards replacing all of these ‘cars’, and indeed other modes of transport, with electric varietals, blissfully ignorant to the fact that there is a small child in the middle of one of their cities nominally referred to as Ashgabat, who has discovered a new fuel source derived from the flatulence of the Transcapian saw-scaled viper which, as you know, as identical in chemical composition to the fuel used by our interdimensional, dare I say, ‘ships’. Were the populace of this planet mindful enough of this discovery, they would quickly be able to adapt their existing technologies and advance their civilisation considerably. Of course they choose to do the exact opposite, and doom themselves to a millennia of misfortune. This is a fair reflection of why the subject is so interesting. In her, I see the chance for them to change.

Outside of that perfectly normal ‘house’, a woman opens up the door. ‘Woman’, being the singular term for the member of their species tasked with partirution, as they have not yet grown beyond the need for such a division. Some creatures in those masses of planetary oxidane are closer in their evolution towards the hermaphroditic synchronicity needed to populate The Universe, but sillily, those species forgot to evolve opposable thumbs. It’s like everything on this planet is doing things deliberately wrong.

That ‘woman’ goes inside the ‘house’. The subject goes with her.






6B: Perfectly Normal

“Tea?” the woman asks, as soon as we enter the house. A fleeting memory of that word taps away in the back of my mind, like a dream that doesn’t want to be remembered.

“Thank you,” I say anyway, in Korean. I allow whatever it was that tried to get in to pass me by.

For her part, the girl isn’t interested in tea. That feels different, but it makes sense. She’s still young, after all.

The woman gets to work, preparing the leaves and boiling some water in the kitchen. She leaves us to our own devices, and the girl clings to my chest as I carry her into what appears to be the living room. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it looks much the same as a living room would in any of the other countries that I remember going to. A television; a couch; a coffee table. Those are more or less the key amenities, as they would be anywhere else. Shelves and cabinets dot the edge of the room, and a photo framed in an ornately carved red pine draws my eye.

I set the girl on the ground and allow her space to wander. A scour of the room doesn’t turn up any potential hazards that her curiosity might uncover, but if I’ve learned anything over the last two weeks it's that she has a unique way of turning up things that were never even there. I’ve mused on this phrase once before, but it boils up once again from that fucking motif library that’s stashed away in my brain somewhere: like father, like daughter.

As I approach the picture, I make sure to keep the girl in my sights. She plods her way around the room, before taking great interest in a glass bowl full of shiny black rocks that sits as a centrepiece on the coffee table. The library doesn’t turn up anything on that, so I get a chance to split my attention.

Atop a mountain, overseeing a lush green vista, two smiling women beam right through the photo, and into my heart.

It’s the woman whose house we’re in. The one we met under the great camphor after our journey with the North Korean War Criminal.

In the photo, she drapes her arm over the shoulder of another woman, who shares a remarkable physical resemblance.

Her sister.

The girl’s mother.

“Here you go,” the woman says, as she enters the room. In her hands are two pale blue mugs with steam rising from them. She hands one to me, and I take it with my gloved hand, wrapping my fingers tight around it in spite of the boiling tea within. Even with that layer of protection, a normal person would still feel the heat through the fabric.

Me though? You could shoot a crimson blast of mystical shitfuckery at that hand, and it wouldn’t register a thing. Nothing can damage it.

Not anymore.

“Thank you,” I say once again, careful not to burn my lips as I take a miniscule sip and the woman steps up beside me. Forlorn, she looks at her sister’s face.

“She was always the life of the party,” she tells me. I’ll keep doing the translation work for you. “But she never seemed… satisfied. Even after getting married, she had such a thirst for new experiences. It was her idea to go to America, you know? And when she fell pregnant, she was determined to stay. I never even got a chance to meet her daughter.”

“Until now.” We both turn at the same, watching as the girl meticulously counts each small stone that she takes out of the bowl. For all the things that she can do; all of the things that she says she knows, there are still a lot of limitations on her young mind.

There are six-hundred and twenty-three stones in the bowl.

I know this.

The tea is still hot, but has become a little more bearable to the tongue. I risk a bigger sip.

“Let’s sit down,” the girl’s aunt suggests. I follow her over towards the centre of the room and take up a pew on the couch right behind where the girl kneels. The woman lowers herself into a matching armchair, at a slightly obtuse angle from me.

“How long do we have to wait?” I say, without looking. The woman doesn’t look at me, either. We both sit and sip our teas, while watching the girl count rocks. There was something calming about it all. Something perfectly normal. It helped that she knew everything already. I had been open with her. If only others appreciated that as much as she did. I told her how I came to be the girl’s steward, and then I went even further with that. I told her about the other stuff too. About the girl and what we had experienced. What she was capable of. And of course… how everything keeps turning up Alias. She accepted it all with a grace that suggested she wasn’t surprised. Almost like she expected it.

“Not long at all,” she said, sipping from her own tea. “I messaged them when we left, and again when we were about thirty minutes out. They’ll be here soon.”

They.

The girl’s family.

Her real family. Not me.

I’m not real.

The journey had taken about three hours. I don’t know what that said about where NK had taken us, but it had made for a long enough drive to catch the girl’s aunt up on everything. And a long enough drive for a lump to form in my throat.

A real lump, figuratively speaking. Heh.

BZZZZZZZT!

The doorbell rings. I look to the woman with a level of expectation. I’m not alone. From where she leans over the bowl of stones, the girl looks up too.

The woman nods.

This is it.

The girl is about to meet her family.

Together, we all make our way towards the very same front door that we had come through not that long ago. The girl clings to the leg of my jeans, making sure that we don’t get separated.

It’s the woman who opens the door, and the three of us are met with three of them.

“Welcome,” the woman whose house this is, greets them.

On the sight of them, that nagging feeling that danced in the background of my mind returned. There was a vague familiarity about all this. I feel the girl tug tight against my pant leg. Does she feel it too?

In the faces of the three visitors, I see some similarity to the woman. And to the girl. They stand before him as if they’re on display. Like I could walk up to each of them and select which direction I would go. Which path I would choose. It was like I could choose my own adventure.

I guess I can.

I. Not you. Not this time.

From left to right, I scan across their faces.

The first is a woman, younger than the girl’s aunt but still an adult. She has dyed her hair blue and the faint shadow of what may one day grow into an actual moustache sits upon her upper lip. It’s matched by dark black streaks of hair that I observe on her bare arms. She’s hairy. Furry. As I ever do, I look into her eyes. Yesterday’s moon still lingers there, washing the darkness from the brown in her eyes.

“Cousin,” the girl’s aunt tells me, explaining this wild creature’s relationship to the girl. There were other words said as well, as the woman greeted each of these visitors in a perfectly normal way, but at the moment I’m just extracting some of the key information.

Whatever the difference in age between the girl’s aunt and her cousin, the reverse is true between the aunt and the crone that stands second in the line outside the house. Not willing to lose sight of a youth that long since departed, the grey of her hair is washed with red, the combination of which leaves it almost pink. Around her face, particularly on her nose, are a series of blemishes and rises in her skin. Here she is, warts and all, with eyes black and cold.

“My own aunt,” I hear the original woman say, still abridged from her wider dialogue.

Rounding out the line is a male. He isn’t particularly tall, and carries a lot more weight on his torso than would likely be healthy. With the touches of grey speckled throughout his hair, I suspect that he’s about the same age as the girl’s aunt, but the youth in his face throws doubt. Round spectacles hang off his broad nose, bending the light that twinkles in his deceitful eye. He wipes at them, oddly, while they remain on his face. With the distortion of the light and the movement of his hands, it looks as though he closes his eyes. Sideways.

“My brother,” I take, from the woman’s greater introduction.

“Pleased to meet you all,” I bow, ever so slightly.

This is not the first moot that I have attended. I have walked into the hall of the Gods themselves and laid waste to them all. If you’re inclined to believe me, that is. But this is the moot that I attend now. The gathering of a family that I, nor you, know nothing about.

The moot is about to begin.

To decide the fate of the girl.


~~~




And the world.


~~~


I hold the door open as the family members stream in. As she leads the parade through the house, I can tell that the girl’s aunt is giddy. I don’t think she’s had everyone together at once in quite some time. These three, I was told, represent the different branches of the family. The vagueness of that statement hints at something else. It’s clear that I don’t have all of the information.

Perhaps this isn’t perfectly normal after all.

Three guests had arrived, and the girl still remained calm and quiet. I was beginning to get used to this. The aunt told me that there was going to be four, however.

“Comrade Alias!” interjects a voice, just as I’m about to close the door.

Now there are four.




6C: Failure


Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Lycana.
Lycana, who?
Lycana’s going to become the next Universal Champion
Holy shit, that’s the funniest joke I have ever heard in my life.
Yup.

”Directly contradict this, directly contradict that. Yadda, yadda, fucking yadda.

It’s all a bit rich, you know? Coming from you. Coming from fucking anyone, really. Even me!

But hey, since I keep having to spell shit out for you like you’re a child, let’s mosey on back to what you view to be the most egregious of my failings.

I told everyone it took killing me to beat me, and that obviously was a reference to you. But then…

I told you that you didn’t kill me.

Seems like a pickle for me to twist out of, right?

Is it poor form to answer a question with a question?

Hey Tav’... you ‘stopped’ me, but did you really?

Bish, this is the same fucking conversation. You’ve just abandoned one argument only to paint it up again in different words and now you’re walking around acting like it’s some sort of silver bullet. You uh… you know what gets killed with silver bullets, don’t ya? Looks like I found a use for that fucking shotgun I mentioned!

Guess what? You did kill me. And you didn’t.

That’s the fucking point.

Want to call me a contradiction?

That’s the fucking point!

Oh sure I’ve denied it when you’ve pulled out some of that selective deliberate deafness and plucked shit out of context, ignoring what I said immediately before or after. But in terms of contradictions… is that supposed to be telling me something that I don’t know?

I told you I knew what I said, didn’t I? Or are you ignoring that? Better get back to those archives again, girl, but this time, dig deeper. Don’t just focus on what I’ve said. Branch out and start looking into what I’ve done too. Or what I’ve said I’ve done. Not just in the XWF. In fucking life. Or are we supposed to pretend the rest of it doesn’t matter? Why would we be airing it then, eh?

From the very first time that I was shat out onto the floor of the XWF once again, I set the fucking frame for everything that I’ve been doing. I’ve been telling you how I perceive the world. There is no camera following me around. There’s just me telling stories about what I’ve been doing. Telling you about how The Universe communicates to me.

Are you really trying to tell the guy who talked to a fucking Salmon-Coloured Minotaur that he’s said and done things that are inconsistent with other things that he’s said and done? That he’s… crazy?

I thought you were doing your research?

You’ve over-corrected towards the surface and now you’re also missing all of the metaphors that I’ve absolutely been consistent about mentioning! You need both, Shit-Goth-Bulma! Consistently inconsistent, or inconsistently consistent? Pick your fucking poision.

What does killing someone mean to you, Tav’? What does a phoenix mean? What does me standing here in flesh and fucking blood mean?

Twist. Sidestep. Limbo. Fosbury Flop. A fucking pole vault. Dodge, dip, duck, dive, and dodge. I’ve said that last one before too - did you find that? Have you made the fucking connection yet?

Do you believe that I could have survived that fire? Do you believe that pile of ash that remained within that cage was the last of my remains? Do you believe that I was sent back by the fucking sun, and that my body magically reappeared out of fire?

Did you kill me?

I think you did and I think you didn’t. Right now. Still. Even with you standing there calling me a liar.

You’ve landed on ‘yes’. Cool. That’s the surface. Now ask yourself… was it just a metaphor? Yeah… you’re still refusing to even take a stab at that, aren’t you? It makes you… uncomfortable… to even begin sifting through what’s on the surface and what isn’t. It’s that over-correction. You carried yourself as if you were better than all this, but after everything you said you ‘respected’ about me, you clearly skipped the meat and potatoes. You skipped what it is that makes me, me. And now you’re acting like me controlling my own narrative is something that is either a shocking revelation, or something I’m supposed to be ashamed of. You ‘see’ me? You need to get your eyes checked because all you’re seeing is this picture of me that you’ve created. Swing and a fucking miss, darling. Keep your eye on the fucking ball.

What happened to the whole ‘enigma’ deal, Tavora? Now that you’re not hearing what you want to hear when we speak, are you so willing to cast all of your aspersions about me aside so easily? You’re throwing the baby out with the bath water because you can’t figure out which is fucking which. That’s amateur hour. Such a shame. So focused on proving you’re being honest with me that you ain’t even being honest with yourself. You’re asking me questions but not looking for your own answers.

What if…?

What if I did lie to everyone else, but I’m being truthful to you? Boy, that would sure throw everything off for ya, wouldn’t it? However would you pretend you didn’t LITERALLY ask if I was contradicting myself back at Leap of Faith or now? What, so you already knew the answer? You already knew I owned my failings? What the fuck were you even saying, then? Or were you just looking for something to say for the sake of saying something? Like getting pissy at me even using the word ‘literally’. Fuck, I didn’t even clock that you used that word. It was just a theme, a gag, a motif.

Alias doing Alias things.

But it sure as shit showed your hand, didn’t it? I didn’t even fucking intend for that, but here you are spilling your guts all over the sidewalk for me.

Tavora, you just showed me how you can’t discern the surface truths from the metaphors.

Fuck me, this is a pretty nasty look for you. You’re LITERALLY getting down in the weeds about fucking word usage now. Not a saying, a fucking word! I thought you were above this shit? Jot this down for the future, Tav’: attacking someone with the word ‘narrative’ in a pre-fight exchange is akin to calling someone fucking Hitler in an internet argument.

Dumb. As. Fuck.

We all have our narratives. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be fucking talking. The problem isn’t in me using your words, or you using mine. It’s the ignoring that you do it too. It’s the ignoring that I fucking own it. It’s the ignoring that you acted like you wouldn’t. That you didn’t intend to from the get go.

But you fucking did it. You’ve owned the action now, but not all that it entails. Not that it was your intent.

Because you’re lying to yourself about who you are. Twist. Turn. Fucking crunch.

And now we’re back at those differences, Tav’. Because if you can’t align your head with your fucking mouth, I’ll do it for you.

I mean, if you don't want to keep repeating yourself, like you’ve lamented so many times already, you could always find something new to say.

But you won't.

Because that’s not who you are.

We both know who I was back at Leap of Faith. You act like you know who I am now, but your exasperation at everything that comes with it clearly shows you don’t.

You’re fucking cooked.

I’ll give you another chance though. I’m going to ask you another question, and I suppose with the way the cards are falling, your last chance to answer will be there in the middle of The Universe, when we are standing face-to-face:

Are you happy?

Heh…

You know what I did there, right?

The carnival should be a happy place. From rollercoasters to merry-go-rounds. Fast or slow. It’s all a blast! Shit, you’re even out here trying to play fucking whack-a-mole too - trying to hit whatever you can. Except…

Respect? Missed it.

Dynamics? Fucking missed it.

Me? Missed me with all that shit.

‘Cause I’m not even there. You’re getting off the coaster, the merry-go-round, and even the ferris wheel. Each of them lets you off at the exact same point at which you got on. I didn’t say those rides go on forever. You LITERALLY made that up. I said they just end exactly where you were.

Where you got on.

Where you get off.

Back at the fucking start.

Don’t feel bad, I’m still where we started too though. You’re bouncing from ride to ride like you’re being chased by a Reggie-monster through Dollywood. Massive throwback there, did you dig back that far?

I’m still over here in the funhouse.

Come on in again. You’re going to have to. Because remember… you’re stepping into my Universe.

And here? All the mirrors are still making you look like shit.”




6D: The Girl

“…I am a shining example of honour and virtue; a master of many forms of combat; fluent in fifty-seven different dialects of American English;…” There are only about thirty. “…I won the hammer throw at the 1988 Secret Olympics with two broken arms; am capable of penetrating the most advanced MS-DOS systems on the planet; can hold my breath underwater for two whole minutes; currently hold the North Korean record for best bowling game with a score of three-hundred and fourteen; can fold a fitted sheet by myself; and am the greatest practitioner in recorded history of the super secret schoolMAN technique to finishing wrestling matches.”

That’s how the North Korean War Criminal introduces himself to the family.

They don’t want him there. I don’t even know how he found us.

"This is a family affair," the girl's aunt says to me, among other things. "You need to get your friend to leave."

I don't really know if 'friend' is the right word, but I suppose it's close enough. I do know what they're not paying attention to, however. As each member of the family screams at NK, and he flops to the ground in what he would later call the Sisyphus defence (one can push him as much as they want, but like a boulder up a hill he will always fall back into place), my eyes fall only on the girl.

She's not bothered by his presence.

She was bothered by him on the ship, until he started reading out his research. She was again at the Definitely-A-Secret-North-Korean-Base. But here? She treats him like she does her family. Including me.

Basically by ignoring him and resuming counting stones.

Why him? Why Morbid Angel? Why Lycana? One of them, I’m consider a ‘friend’, I guess. One, an ‘enemy’. The other… a bit of both. What does she know?

The argument continues.

The blue-haired woman, who represents the branch of the family known as The Wolves, demands that the girl come with her. She will train her to fight.

The red-tinged hag, who represents the branch of the family known as The Witches, makes demands of her own. She promises to train the girl to know. Ironic then, that she doesn’t realise that the girl already ‘knows’. The hag herself doesn’t know.

The pudgy man, who represents the branch of the family known as The Aliens, tells us that he’ll take the girl along with him as they explore the unknown. He says he’ll train her to explore. Sounds kind of shit to me.

The North Korean War Criminal simply promises to teach her to be the second-most virtuous, third-most valiant, and first-equal in terms of devotion. He didn’t say what any of that was in reference to.

The family is divided. No consensus can be earned. I don’t know how literal the family divisions are supposed to be interpreted as, but they feel pretty on the fucking nose. One of the more significant mysteries, in my mind, is what the girl’s aunt, and by proxy, her sister, represent.

“Enough!” a domineering voice echoes throughout the living room. Standing in the entranceway is a woman as old as the red witch, but without the imperfections. Her voice cuts through all dissent; even NK shuts up. The girl’s aunt looks meek as she scurries to this matron’s side. WIth the way that she stands, shrunken and passive, while yielding control over her own house to this woman, I determine the relationship pretty quickly.

This is her mother. The girl’s grandmother.

And she represents power.

The matron cuts through silence towards the girl.

“Hello,” she says, crouching down.

“Hi,” the girl replies, still counting.

“Six-hundred and twenty-three,” the matron says, echoing my own count.

“I know,” the girl says, continuing to take stones out of the bowl.

“Oh?” the matron remarks in surprise. “What are you doing then?”

“There are six-hundred and twenty-three stones in this bowl,” she explains, repeating what we all know by now. “But there is only one… of these!”

She lifts her hand up to show the matron. Sitting on the tip of her finger is a snail. Its shell is as shiny and black as the stones were, and only the very tip of its head pokes its way out from underneath its protective outer.

The matron purses her lips as she reaches down and plucks the snail from the girl’s finger. She holds it up so that the light catches its shell. It’s quite remarkable actually.

Until it gets crushed under her fingers.

The matron crouches down again and looks the girl square in the eyes. Like I would. From the distance that I watch from, I see what I’ve seen a thousand times by now. Water begins to fill the girl’s eyes.

“Do you know why snails have shells?” she asks. The girl shakes her head, and I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t know as much as she thinks, or just a product of the intensity that this woman exudes. Even though she wants to cry, in the face of her grandmother, her tears are kept at bay. “Because their bodies are weak. Your body is not weak, is it?”

Again, the girl shakes her head. Satisfied, her grandmother rises up once more, and looks around to the rest of her family.

“There will be no debate,” she says, flat and firm. “My granddaughter will come with me. She will reclaim the birthright that my daughter took from her.”

The girl’s aunt shrinks even further as she thinks about her sister.

“And she will reclaim her name.” The matron lets that sentence hover in the air. The hairs on the back of my neck bristle at the prospect.

A name.

“Come, Paritegi,” she commands of the girl.

A name.

Paritegi.

Wherefore art thou Paritegi?

There is no resistance nor argument from the family. However…

“She will come with me!” the North Korean War Criminal insists. He plants both his feet into the ground, but does nothing to block the path. The grandmother just ignores him, while the girl - Paritegi - gives him a little wave on her way out.

Someone else blocks the path though.

I fucking do.

I went through all of this, just to what? Have it undercut it at the end?

“No.” My arms cross across my chest and my voice does not waver. I stand in front of the door, and force the grandmother to notice me for the first time.

“You are The Deliverer?” she asks, with almost an air of thanks to her words.

“Call me whatever you want,” I reply. I, The Label-Gatherer.

None of this feels right. If I’m serious about trying to be better, then I can’t in good conscience allow this to proceed. The Universe brought me here for a reason.

“The girl isn’t going with you.”

“Yes, I am.” It’s the girl. Both the matron and I look down at her, and this time, we shrink.

It was not just The Universe, was it? It was her. She led me here. She directed the path. The Universe brought me into her life so that I could get her here for this very moment.

“It’s going to be okay,” she reassures. “This is the necessity. You did it.”

She’s calm but she isn’t happy. On that I can relate. It has been common practice for me to feel more attuned to her emotions than anyone else I’ve ever met. To feel that connection.

I did it.

“You can move now,” the grandmother says, but where my voice didn’t waver, I can hear a slight quiver in hers. Good. She needs to know.

I will keep the girl safe.

“We’ll meet again,” the girl says, encouraging me to do as the matron asked. I step to the side and let them pass.

“Goodbye,” I whisper, and that finally brings a smile to Paritegi’s face.

Watching as they walk to a non-descript black van, NK appears by my side. There she goes, a girl with a name. I say it in my head. ‘Paritegi’. Watched by people called Alias and the North Korean War Criminal. That’s gotta be a fucking joke. Maybe I should try it on Lycana to see if she finds a way to get defensive about it.

“Comrade Alias,” NK speaks in English, so that the others wouldn’t overhear. “Shall we coordinate a counterattack?”

“No,” I say. “She’s where she needs to be. I… I played my role.”

I did it.

I smile at him. He does his best to return it, and that just makes me smile even more. Chuckle, even. He mimics, doing his best to fit in.

“You played your role too, NK,” I tell him. I think some genuine emotion actually creeps in on his face. If it did, it’s gone before I could be sure.

“Shall we check the shipping routes for a path back to New York then?” he asks, thinking ahead. “We cannot defend our championships without being there to actually compete. Do you have the… Magic Clock?”

Somehow, he’s pulled his massive notebook out of hammerspace again, and is ready to jot down my response.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Let’s do it.”

We walk out of the house, and off into the world. NK begins to chatter about the plan to get us back to Busan, but in truth I’m only half paying attention. The girl’s… Paritegi’s… final words are still rattling around my head.

“We’ll meet again.”

As if the family of fucking weirdos that NK and I leave behind wasn’t enough, those words give away the goat. They whip around my head again.

“We’ll meet again.”

I know what that means.

This is a semicolon, not a period.

The story isn’t over.

Which means that no matter what happens, there’s only one thing in my power to do now to get to the next chapter.

Fucking FIGHT.




6E: Better Man

“I’ve asked you this a few times now, Tavora, in varying contexts, but I’ll give it one more crack. I’m not optimistic about you even understanding the question given how your abject bed-shitting has continued, but we still have this time left so why not try to make the most of it?

‘How’d I do?’

I framed this all at the beginning about trying to ‘be better’.

Did I?

Did I stick the fucking landing?

Am I ‘better’?

I mean, you’ve been so full of compliments, right? You should be able to tell me.

Yeah… right.

Oh, there I go again, casting shade. Shit, maybe I am bad at receiving praise. It tracks though. The life I’ve lived - or said I have - it fits, you know? It’s clinically consistent, for wherever consistency is worth now. Not that you’d be able to ‘help’ on that front. Each time you open that asshole on your face, you spend so much time talking about how you expected me to address you differently than I have. That doesn’t sound like someone who sees me. That doesn’t sound like someone who understands. That sure as shit doesn’t sound like someone so full of compliments. I don’t take them well? Fuck, you’re not giving them well.

But that’s okay. That’s at least what I expected of you.

Because… I see you.

SEE how easy that is?

No. You don’t.

Apt analogy with that kaleidoscope, pal. That’s exactly what you see. You see a kid colouring a purple duck, but only describe it as the colour or the animal. Purple. Or Duck. Never both. And your hearing? Well I think you forgot to hit unmute on the telly when the commercials were over, and now whatever it is you see, just doesn’t have any context.

How’d I do? Am I ‘better’?

You wouldn’t even fucking know. You don’t even want to.

You’re too busy looking for points where what I was and what I am are different, and shouting them down like it’s something I haven’t said myself; like it’s something you haven’t said yourself. And then you get all bent out of shape, wait, no, these should be your words right? Umm… ’uppity’! Yeah, that sounds about right. You get ‘uppity’ when I ever call you out on it. You keep acting like you’ve acknowledged things were different, but you’ve also gone on a - wait for it! - fucking rollercoaster about which parts. I thought we had reached an agreement on all that last time, but wow. Apparently not.

Hey, since what’s different and what isn’t seems to be a common theme for us right now, let’s go for one more round, eh? Let’s talk about having a different lens on life. About ‘being better’. That’s my schtick this fortnight, in case you didn't notice. I would’ve thought that you had picked it up given how much you’ve seen’. Not you though. It takes a special talent to miss the fucking mark when it’s literally within touching distance. But then you couldn’t go and claim to not be surprised, disappointed, or insert-appropriate-adjective-here, when that LITERALLY describes how you were acting.

Oh, sorry, did I lose you at ‘fortnight’? That refers to a period of two weeks in pretty much every other country other than the United States. I realise you might know that already given you’re at least a little more otherworldly than your average wolf, but based on the way this has all played out, I figured I’d play it safe and explain it like you’re a fucking a child because… well… you know. We’ve covered that.

Must be that rollercoaster again. Stuck upside down in the loop-de-loop and you desperately need to go to the bathroom. There’s only one way that’s going, right?

And would you look at that?! I managed to reference your bathroom habits again! I probably wouldn’t have to if you didn’t keep taking a shit in public. Well take a selfie of this moment, Tav’, because it’s the last moment before you’re forced to confront the fact that all the ‘growth’ you said you were trying to make… it’s the wrong kind of ‘growth’. It’s malignant. BUT the good news is, I can get it out of you! I just need to go in through your mouth. With my hand this time instead of my words.

Here’s some of your own to lube it up:

You don’t believe that you make me better? Hmph.

I ‘chased my tail coming after you quite a bit in the beginning before I found my way’. Hmph again.

Is that… is that supposed to be an example of me not becoming better? Is that supposed to show anything other than a guy who was in the goodman loony bin finally finding his path in life? Sounds like someone became… ‘better’. In a couple of senses of the word, even. You know… like I fucking said at the beginning.

‘Amazing’.

It’s awfully great when the very next sentence someone says breaks apart their entire argument, isn’t it? You should try it next time you go for a fucking ‘gotcha’.

Oh, but you don’t do that, do you? Nope! You said I needed to own that, despite the fact that you’ve obviously seen where I very much did own it against Bobby Bourbon. You know, before you even flapped your rancid gums. Before I shove my hand down his. Ignoring things for a soundbite. No owning it for you, though, right? We both agree that you don't have to get back on that rollercoaster, but you’ve taken five trips by now this fortnight alone. Are you really going for a sixth?

Even though I’m telling you what you’re doing, you don’t even realise you’re doing it.

Sight without hearing.

Speech without thinking.

Sometimes, we don’t need to think though, do we? Since you asked, I don’t think much about why you helped me. Before The Universe was mine, I had a lot of trouble discerning that more abstract drive from my own, more base instincts. You know that. You felt it, and you still have the teeth marks in your skin to show it. But with The Universe in my hands, that hasn’t been a problem for me anymore. I turned up to your little boarding kennel knowing that I would find what I needed there. If that meant you letting me in, as it did, then so be it. I wasn’t surprised, but I was prepared for something else if I needed to be. Something more; something worse; something… deadly. If that’s what The Universe required, then so be it. I was prepared to die that day, Tavora, as I was when you appeared in front of me on that road.

As I am today.

As I will be tomorrow.

As I am every day.

That doesn’t mean I roll over and let it happen though. I just know that with The Universe in my hands, even death is temporary. It is, as you would say, a contradiction.

That’s the fucking point. Or so I can surmise, if you’ll believe this unreliable narrator.

I don’t need you to be afraid of me. I just need you to realise what this is if there is to be any chance of a… err… ‘productive’ relationship going forward between us. It’s not that I seek to step on you, you just happen to be the step. Does that make sense? Try to understand it. Put aside your fucking ‘gotcha’ games, and try to engage with things on a better level than that before you get knocked on your ‘good seat’ without you even knowing what’s what. I may not hate you anymore, but I think we’ve established that we’re not exactly gonna be on each other’s Christmas card lists. Still… for all the differences that we’ve uncovered, we have, however, settled on something that we have in common. I’m not sure if you picked up on it.

We both believe The Universe is guiding us.

Here’s the thing though, since taking possession of It, I’ve damn well fucking showed that it’s guiding me. When The Universe tells me that my fight will continue, it continues, doesn’t it? Not in the pick yourself up and try again type that you’ve been talking about. Not like that ‘Ever forward’ of yours either, since that turned out to be a crock of shit.

I’m talking about everything I’ve ever said coming true for the last six fucking months. Death and survival included, if you catch my drift.

For you, that’s probably going to sound as convincing as your rationale does to me. ‘You will because you have’ is the gist of it, right?

But you haven’t. I’m different. You said it. Yadda yadda fucking yadda. Deliberate repetition. Rollercoaster’s back at the fucking beginning.

Tav’... this ain’t fucking Frozen meets Game of Thrones meets Twilight. There is no Team Edward or Jacob, just as there is no Team Lycana.

There is just The Universe. There is me. Those two things are pretty much the same thing by now.

I’m doing what I do.

I’m gonna Eat Lycana.

…

Come on, tell me you weren’t waiting for me to say it?

Ex-oh-ex-oh!

It’s fucking time. And in case you haven’t been paying attention, time, like The Universe, Is fucking MINE.

…

...

Fifty-nine ‘fucks’ - that one included. Did I beat TK?”



6F: The Story Isn’t Finished



As a byproduct of their ability to communicate, these beings have managed to construct a series of stories through which they transfer messages about the world. As with everything, they insist on coming up with names to label these stories, but they often struggle to define a clear boundary between some of these words. Two words of note in this space are ‘myth’ and ‘religion’. As best I can tell, they are the same type of story, save for ‘myths’ having value and belief systems attached to them that are no longer relevant to the timeframe in which the story is shared. You will, of course, remember that this species still, quite humorously, views the passage of time as a linear process. A ‘religion’ on the other hand, is just a collection of stories that has some level of social acceptance within their narrow…

Oh…

Oh, hello. You’re back.

What… what are you doing?

What’s that for?

No. Don’t do that.

Don’t do that.

Stop it.

You’re going to…

You’re going to…

You’re…

…

…

…

]]> <![CDATA[Veritas Part 3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42308 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 16:48:58 -0800 Corey Smith]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42308
RECAP

Corey Smith is getting closer and closer to getting his final revenge on Madison Dyson. Having injected himself with the healing nanites that repaired all the damage to his brain, he finds himself a newly replenished man ready to take on the world. But, is he ready to challenge his own morals to take that final plunge? When the time comes to put Madison down for good, will he? And moreover, will he survive the endeavor? And what of Madison’s former ally Jace? Will he be able to prevent his son Amari from becoming a new monstrous iteration of The Engineer?

And, most importantly, has Thad Duke FINALLY stopped lying?



The din of the competing voices created a disorienting crosshatch of sounds. Corey strained to block it all out, funneling his full attention on the task at hand. Before Whisper could kill him, that is. He lined up the ruination of Madison’s body in his gunsights.

And he fired.

[Image: BetterFirmHoiho-max-1mb.gif]


Amari’s voice came out like a clipped cry as Madison’s tank was riddled with holes. The life saving liquid in the tank started to flow against the new points of egress, causing the glass to splinter around the bullet holes. Inside, Madison was screaming, but the device that carried her voice must have somehow been rendered inert.

Jace tried to hold fast to Amari, attempting to bring the syringe with its mollifying cocktail of meds to bear on his son’s neck. But Amari fought hard, planting the meat of his palm on Jace’s chin and pushing him away. He set in on Corey, but the damage was already playing out before all of them.

Madison’s tank exploded, and the liquid cascaded forth, unchecked by the broken glass. The force of it set Amari to fumbling, and Corey had to brace himself to avoid falling. Madison’s body was buffeted by the flowing liquid, like a windsock at the mercy of a gale. The mask about her mouth was the only thing restraining her for a time, until it snapped and her body flowed free onto the floor. Practically at Corey’s feet.

Amari screamed in a hoarse rage, pushing himself to his feet. But his father was already on him, again trying to drug him into submission. From the hall, Corey could hear the clomping of boots and the frenzied calls to action of Madison’s personal guard.

And then, there was Madison herself. Gazing up at Corey with those milky eyes, the mottled skin of her face twisting and contorting with each wracking gasp for air. Air that couldn’t possibly fill dead lungs. And Corey knew then that she was suffocating.

It would be a release.

His finger tensed on the trigger once more. Two. Two more rounds in the chamber. The guards were drawing nearer. Amari tried desperately to claw past his father to save this broken thing at Corey’s feet.

He saw fear in her face then. She raised one withered hand into the path the bullet would take, as if she could stop it with brittle bone and sallow flesh alone.

Corey leveled the gun at the white expanse of her left eye.

And he fired again.

That was when everything stopped. To Corey’s astonishment the bullet drew to a halt in midair. Madison had stopped moving, but not out of terror. She had literally just stopped moving. Corey hastily looked around him, and found that everything and everyone else was similarly time locked. Jace was embroiled in an eternal struggle with his son. The Blackwater men rushing into the room were a stillborn parade of aggressive tendencies. And yet, Corey found that he could move freely.

…what? He hissed, terror mounting as the surreal nature of what was happening gripped him. His thoughts strayed. Perhaps someone shot me. Perhaps I’m dying, and this is my dying brain’s attempt to make sense of my surroundings before blinking out forever. But if it was death, it was a slow rider taking its dear sweet time.

Corey’s macabre revelry was interrupted then by a deep groan, a formidable sound that seemed to emanate from all around him. It sounded like the steel bones of a massive skyscraper giving way. And then, his blood truly ran cold. He looked towards Jace and Amari, and somehow the scene seemed two dimensional. An artificial flatness in reality, standing in defiance of all physical law. Corey found himself terrified by it. And then it shattered, and a man stood in the break with weaving darkness at his back.

He stepped forward, the shattered remnants of the broken wall of reality bouncing off his suit jacket as he went. Corey could only look on in numb fear as the being approached.

[Image: constantine-walking.gif]


The being, having reached Madison's prostrate form, sat down Indian style in a manner that was none too graceful. He began to study the suspended bullet, and then, raising his hand to it, he flicked it away like a boy flicking a paper football.

Plink! The being spoke playfully as he knocked it away. Then, drawing a ragged sigh, he cracked his neck and settled into position, hunching his back and licking his lips lasciviously.

Yeah, that’s one way it coulda went down.

What are you? Corey blurted, unable to restrain a tremor.

The being wagged a finger at Corey as a cutting smile split his pallid face. Skipping right past the “who”. Bright kid.

Corey bucked as he saw, for a fraction of a second, what looked like a blackened serpent’s tongue pass between the man’s lips. Flicking out at the environs and retreating so fast he started to doubt if he saw it at all almost as soon as the thought occurred to him. You wouldn’t be the first…. Corey stopped suddenly. Aiwass?

Why don't you, uh, why don’t you sit down? The figure gestured at the spot on the other side of Madison. Before he could even realize it he was complying, folding his legs up underneath him. Madison’s body lay between them like a demented coffee table, adding an extra rung of surreality to the experience.

I’m not Aiwass. I tore him in half with my bare hands. He wasn’t gloating. Simply stating a fact. But he spoke with a grimace, almost as though the simple act of speech somehow pained him.

How do I know that’s true?

You don’t. But it’s inconsequential.

Corey stopped to study the man, trying desperately to be still his hammering heart. What are you then?

Your Bible christened me Mammon, so it must be so.

What?!

The man pulled his head back, almost as though he was offended by Corey’s incredulity. You can accept an Aiwass, but you can’t accept me? And again, that blackened viper’s tongue, back and forth like a shot. I need this woman alive. He had changed the subject abruptly, ticking his eyes down towards Madison and then meeting Corey’s gaze again. You can’t have her.

She’s monstrous.

So am I.

What do you WANT?

The mysterious stranger’s mouth pulled into a savage rictus of bared teeth. Money, money, money…. Then, with a savage lunge at Corey, he whispered in his ear. ….yummy, yummy, yummy. Corey gasped in fear, and Mammon reoriented himself. We’re reforming the club, Corey. We’re making new Engineers. And we’re going to have some fun.

In a flash, Corey raised the gun on Mammon and pulled the trigger, drawing on him point blank with a shot that would have shattered his forehead and blown his gray matter out the back of his skull like so much content under pressure. But as Corey squeezed the trigger, the gun started to devolve into its component parts, clattering to the floor harmlessly with the bullet, unfired, still in the chamber. Corey panted and fell back on his haunches, skittering backwards away from the thing.

Please don’t go. I need to talk to you. It’s very important.

HOW ARE YOU HERE? Corey’s face was broken out in flop sweat. And yet, he still tried to make inroads in making sense of this abomination.

Well, that….THAT, is a fascinating story. Again, the painful grimaces as it spoke, again the subtle flick of that blackened tongue. I come from out there.

He points at YOU.

Out where?

Out. THERE.

I don’t understand? Space?

Mammon chuckled. It sounded like an ewe being strangled. How long did you think you could play with the boundaries between time and space without consequences? I really should write the XWF a thank you card for concentrating so much destruction in one place. Betsy Granger. Lux. He paused. Alias. Why, Alias even makes quite the show of it, doesn’t he? Yesssss. Defending his pretty little bauble as he spits in the face of cosmic law.

Are you saying….are you saying WE caused this?

Cause implies foreknowledge. You left the door open by accident The leering smile on his face betrays the perverse enjoyment he seems to be taking out of this. And I know Corey, how shocking this must have been for you. This casual interruption of the tried and true hero’s tale. But you see, I couldn’t let you FUCK THIS UP! His voice rose into a restrained rage, spraying spittle as he placed a harsh cadence on each word.

Corey winced in the face of Mammon’s anger, but rallied. You’re not making sense. Where do you come from? Are you from Hell?

I’m from Jersey City. He chuckled. I’m from everywhere that plays host to the breed of avarice I require.

What does that even mean?

It means I’m here because your friends’ cosmic flounderings made it so. So I intend to make the best of it. Which by your standard means, “ make the worst of it”, I suppose. He shrugged playfully. Then looking at Madison with a start as though he had forgotten all about her. Oh! He passed a hand over her face, and suddenly a black breath mask appeared over her mouth. Almost…screwed the pooch. He cracked his jaw as he spoke.

You're going to turn Amari into an Engineer.

That is the plan. He gestured at Madison. Her as well. Why not two?

Fucks sakes...Corey breathed.

One plus one is even more fun, fun, fun. He wiggled his head playfully with each utterance of the word fun.

I'll stop you.

No you won't. This ends here.

You're going to kill me? He visibly tenses.

No. Mammon said with a touch of wistfulness. That would martyr you, which causes me so much trouble later on. Plus, it implicates us when we'd rather keep a low profile. For the moment anyway. So we're going to make a deal instead. 'Kay? Who "us" was goes unspoken.

Do I have to sign in blood? Corey jabbed, a bit more confidently than he felt.

I mean, if you want to. That hoary old stereotype. But no, your verbal acquiescence suffices. He claps his hands together, gritting his teeth. So, offer number one. And I think it's rather good! You stay away from my pets, and Thad Duke becomes your friend again forevermore.

Corey shook his head incredulously. You can't….

I can, Corey. I CAN. I can make him your friend again. He'll wake up tomorrow and POOF, all the animosity will have melted away. I can make that happen for you.

You're lying.

Why would I utter such a provable lie? I want you out of our affairs for good. The being paused. You can have him back.

Corey's insides lurched at the enormity of it all. To think, it could so simply all be set right again. A wave of the proverbial wand. His mind strayed to the kiss they shared, an intimate moment that, while not a prelude to something more, was an exemplar of how deep the roots of their relationship had once gone. Deep down into the pulsing heart of the very Earth, a deathless and complete beauty that would broach no darkness.

Except it all fell apart.

Corey bit at his bottom lip in consternation, eyes locked on this mysterious figure offering him the world.

Why would you ever say "no"?

Why would I ever say no? But Corey knew damn well why he would say no. Because to win Thad over this way would be a hollow victory and a punitive disregard for the man's free will. But how tempting it was. The greatest sins always are.

No. No, I won't have it.

Corey expects rage, but instead Mammon proffers up a giddy smile. I’m so glad you picked option 2. Because option 2 is the destruction of everyone you love. Mammon frowned. I will turn your little pissant commune in Florida into an abattoir. Christian, butchered. Dolly, butchered. And just because I can and because I think you still harbor a sliver of affection for him, Thad, BUTCHERED. I’ll take little Frankie with me to hell and boil him until his eyeballs melt in his skull and he dies screaming for Thaddy Daddy to save him. He leans in. Are you with me, Corey?

Corey closed his eyes, face trembling as he pictured this promised savagery in his mind’s eye. Yes. He replied reluctantly.

So do we have a deal? Henceforth you don’t interfere with us?

He breathed a weary sigh. Yeah.

IIIIIIII CAN’T HEAR YOU!

YES! Yes, we have a deal!

Oh good. Then we can return to our regularly scheduled broadcast.

NOW


[Image: fbi_academy.jpg]


The shot is tight on Corey as he kicks it off.

Last stop. All aboard. He smiles.

The shot pans back to reveal the interior of one of many offices at FBI Headquarters. Corey is sitting at a table with a suited man. A laptop is also open on the table.

Here I am at Quantico, Virginia, vaunted home of America’s agency of super sleuths, the CIA!

Actually, we’re the FBI.

See! These guys are SOOOO on point! Just kidding Special Agent Kilmeade. Corey shakes the agent’s hand. So you might be asking yourselves, “Corey, what are you doing hanging out with the Feds when you have a big time match to prepare for?” Answer: I’m using their bitchin’ training facilities all the while tearing Thad Duke a whole ass new one YET AGAIN. Now, as you guys might have noticed, Thad Duke took FOREVER to get to his point in his last promo. See, that right there is a sign somebody doesn’t have much to say. Puffing up his piece with hollow self congratulatory platitude before working his way into an astute dissection of about two seconds worth of video clip that he says completely demolishes my claim that I was happy about him winning the Universal Championship. Nevermind that I never, not once, voiced my displeasure with him being Universal Champion. Never, not once, did I CHALLENGE him for that championship he said I had such a hard on for. No, just that I was caught on camera not jumping for joy and wetting myself to the tune of Thad’s theme music as he held that belt aloft.

We’re really using taxpayer funded resources on this, aren’t we? The agent inquires skeptically.

We sure are! So here I am with an actual expert video analyst to review the footage in question and see if Thad’s claim holds water. Agent Kilmeade, if you will?

The agent, looking a little less than thrilled, turns to the laptop, which is already keyed up to show the following selection:

Quote:Thaddeus is awarded the XWF Universal Championship as he drops to both knees clutching the title to his chest while out on the floor a dejected Chris Page, Witness and Corey Smith are at ringside. Fireworks start to explode above the ring in Tombstone Arizona lighting the sky up as the crowd roars with approval.

The agent meticulously slows down the two seconds worth of footage down to the microsecond, stopping to zoom in on the faces of the three men in question.

So, in your expert opinion, what does it look like is going on there?

Well, in my expert opinion, it looks like this Chris Page guy looks pretty unhappy, while that weirdo in the mask and you are just kind of sitting there.

Huh. So you would say it looks like a “dejected Chris Page…AND Corey Smith and Culty Fuzz?”

“Culty Fuzz…?”

Just roll with it. So it doesn't look like we're all dejected?

I mean, yeah, your read on it is correct. And, considering the one guy is wearing a mask it wouldn’t even make sense to say he looks dejected.

HUH. Corey smirks. Well, I guess it all boils down to your read on the situation. Corey winks at the camera. Thank you for your expert analysis.

Yeah, sure. But all you really had to do was watch the tape. He shrugs. Anyway, I got some real work to do.

Oh sure, sure! Can I use your office?

No.

An awkward pause ensues before the shot abruptly transitions to Corey in Quantico’s elite training facility!

Aaaaand, we’re back. So! About that tape that Thad Duke desperately tried to STREEEEETCH into a searing indictment of yours truly. Turns out it’s just another play on words, or in this case, images. Another twisting of the truth. Because that is what Thad Duke has been doing this ENTIRE time.

And fuck me I guess for not looking like I’m in a state of ejaculatory ecstacy in a two second clip after I just got bumped out of the ring on the back of my injury prone head. Yeah, my bell was pretty rung after that shot. It may have even been one of the precipitators of my most recent decline. Who knows. But the bottom line is this. Thad Duke tried to expand a blink and you’ll miss it clip of footage into a whole ass condemnation of me. Because that’s ALL he has to work with. I showed literally no other indications that I was upset with him being the Universal champ. Not a one. But all it takes to hang me on a cross in Thad’s eyes is a blip of me with a pained neutral expression after landing on my skull.

Ridiculous.

But so, so indicative of what Thad’s tried to pull this entire time. Thad, do you know why, by your own admission, most people would buy what I was saying at face value? Because it’s the truth, you ass. And I’m sick and tired of your relentless reconfiguration of the last year of our relationship so you can try to paint me as the villain. I’m sick of your psychic deductions into my exact thought processes like you’re some discount Kreskin motherfucker. And I’m sick, sick, SICK of you twisting around the last year’s worth of love I’ve shown you so you can try to score some sick facade of moral authority.

So I did what you’re not supposed to do.

I stopped watching your promo.

Cut that shit off whole hog. Because redefining the minutiae of our relationship is precisely what you want. You want us all getting stuck up in the nooks and crannies, like that video clip, because it distracts from the big picture. And because I’m a big picture guy, that’s precisely what I’m going to end this on. A recounting of the objective truth of both of our actions so the people can decide for themselves who is in the wrong here.

This started with you winning the Universal Championship. After that match, I took credit for helping you win. Which is ACCURATE. But, by my own admission, maybe a little too much. Maybe I should have kept that to myself. Maybe I should have realized you weren’t secure enough to handle that. So that’s MY fault. I take accountability for that.

Next comes Continuum. I didn’t trust Doc as far as I could toss his Satanic ass, and while I disagreed with your relationship with him, I never once saw it as a reason to discontinue our friendship. In fact, I hung in there with Continuum because I was afraid you were getting played. Maybe I was right. Maybe I was wrong. But my intentions were always noble. Oh, and you gave me a Tag Team title and then later tried to claim I was an asshole for accepting it. ‘Natch.

All the while, I cultivated a friendly rapport with Alias. Not to spite you, but because I thought maybe he was someone who needed help. Turns out, the guy is effectively superhuman and needs approximately zero percent help from me, but hey, again I was trying to do what was right. Unfortunately, Alias also had a big hate on for you. A hate which, at the time, I considered neither logical nor fair and attributed it to a confused state of mind. Also important to note, despite his stated hatred of you, Alias had ample opportunity to get at you and make due on that hatred. How many times were you at the same show together? Shit, once more with feeling, HE SHARED A RING WITH YOU AT WAR GAMES! But never once did any more harm come to you than what could naturally be expected to come of a match at War Games.

Also important to note, and this was something Alias himself pointed out ages ago, Alias never asked me to stop being your friend. The Doc on the other hand? All the fucking time. All the time he was telling you to dump me. Who was manipulating who? Looks like Doc won in the end. Good job, Thad.

Anyway, things continue in that vein until War Games. You signed up to be a captain. I did the same. And, I assume, we were both trying to draft the best team possible. Alias ended up on my team because he was the top guy in the XWF bar none. In fact, it would have been downright idiotic for me to NOT pick this nigh superhuman freight train of a man. Me picking Alias was never a refutation of our friendship, it was just objectively good drafting. And if you hadn’t been a captain, you know who I would have drafted first? You. Because at that point you were the one soul in the XWF that I knew I could trust above all others.

Corey sighs and hangs his head.

So what do we think so far folks?

He chuckles mirthlessly and then continues.

Back to reality. So, as we all know, you decided to air out our dirty laundry in your closing War Games promo. Instead of coming to me and hashing it out behind closed doors, you just had to sing it to the rooftops that you’re an aggrieved party and you’re just not gonna take it anymore! You turned the ruination of our friendship into just another wrestling storyline. Thanks for that.

Sooo, yadda yadda, Corey’s team wins War Games, etc….etc….

Now, naturally, I’m pissed. My best friend just metaphorically popped a bullet into my skull. So I decide I want to hash this out in a match. So I go to management and ask for one. And before they can even render an answer, Thad Duke tells me and the world, “nuh uh.” And pick your reason! “I’m not doing this on free TV”.” “If you had just asked me directly instead of going to management I would have considered it.” I mean, fucking PICK ONE THAD. But yeah, at any rate, he decided he wanted nothing to do with me back then. Probably because he couldn’t have borne such an ego crushing loss after he just lost to my team at War Games. Yeah, he had to get some wins back under his belt to rebrand the ol’ self esteem. I get it.

And, of course, we come to our finale. Where, instead of giving me a match and doing the honorable thing, he ambushes me, kicks me in the head (the area that is the MOST bad touch for me), and causes me to lose the XTreme championship. And I repay that in kind by cashing in on him at Relentless, feeding him the same bad medicine (pun intended) he fed me.

Oh, and bonus round! Thad follows all that by joining up with noted scum sucker, B.O.B. founder, and backstabber of Robert Main, Chronic Chris Page. Wow, wow, WOW. This shit, out of all this, might just speak for itself the best.

So there we have it, folks. The OBJECTIVE chain of events. And I openly admit, I made some missteps. But even in doing so, I did my damndest to maintain a modicum of integrity in the face of the bitterest emotional loss I’ve experienced since I lost Lux. Corey tamps down on a quiver in his voice. He takes a moment to collect himself before starting anew. But I’m only human. I could only take so much. So, Thad, and the people who support Thad, I want you all to take a good long, hard look at this chain of events. Without the spin. Without the minutia. And I want you to ask yourselves, who here displayed the preponderance of integrity? Who here tried to do things the right way?

I think the answer’s pretty fucking obvious. But hey, you don’t even have to ask me. You can ask Frankie instead.

Frankie. The boy who still believes in me to the point that he wants me to be his Godfather. Thad, are you gonna tell me your own son is mistaken? Corey’s features warp into a semblance of incredulous disgust. How have you managed to square it away in that thick skull that I am both the devil made flesh AND somebody your son loves and respects? Cognitive dissonance, much? Jesus I wouldn’t want to be your head right now.

Frankie, it would be my honor to be your Godfather. Corey says this solemnly. But even more than that, I’d like to give you your Dad back. Thad…hasn’t been Thad. And I don’t know if it’s just what he says is bothering him, or if there’s something more to it.

Thad, this match is going to happen because at this point, it has to. We need to work through this bad blood between us. We need a release valve for all this anger. And while I have meant everything I’ve said here tonight, I acknowledge how wholly stupid this has all been.

So here we come to the crux of it, where each other’s character will really be born out. Thad, after our match, are you finally willing to have that conversation? No more talking over each other in promos. No more attacks. Just one more match…and we come to Jesus. And you know what? I don’t even want you to do it for me. I want you to do it for Frankie. We owe it to him to get our shit together. And I think, at the very least, we can agree on that.

I’ve….sacrificed a lot to get to this point. To get well again. I’d hate to sacrifice anything more.

Corey continues to gaze into the camera’s all seeing eye for a moment longer, before it fades to black.

THEN


Jace slams against the wall, taken up by his own momentum, as they plunge up the stairs. Corey is just behind, keeping pace. What the fuck happened back there?! Jace pants as he keeps pushing himself forward.

I’ll explain as we’re leaving. Corey grabs hold of the bannister to steady his ascent. Is your guy gonna be there?!

Jace bursts through the door at the top of the stairs, out onto a flattened stretch of roof with a helicopter, blades whirling, ready for takeoff. Corey pumps a fist in the air. Yes!

The tamping of boots is not far behind, and Corey slams the metal door shut behind him, looking for anything to brace it shut. Shit!

Just get in! Jace gestures frantically for the helicopter. Corey reluctantly backs away from the door and heads for their escape. Jace is in first, and he’s already bringing a pistol to bear on the door as Corey slides in right after him.

What are we lookin’ at Jace? The pilot barks out.

Just take off! Go, go, go!

The pilot curses audibly, even above the din, and the helicopter starts to lurch into the air. Just then, the door explodes open and five armed Blackwater troops spill out onto the roof. It takes them a moment to realize what’s going on, and when they do, they take aim and open fire.

Jesus!

Bullets land against the hull of the chopper with loud echoing thuds. Corey rolls into a ball, trying to give up as little surface area as possible. But he hears another staccato salvo of machine gun fire, this time with an accompanying crack of glass. The pilot is still cursing, and he banks hard left before either of them have a chance to close the door. Corey looks up as he starts to slide out of the chopper, bracing himself just in time. He gasps in terror at the growing distance between themselves and the ground. And that’s when he spies Jace, just barely clutching onto the edge of the door, body flying freely in the night air.

Fuck! Corey hollers, and he instantly reaches out towards Jace with one hand while taking hold of the foundation of one of the seats. Grab on! Jace, wide eyed and terrified, reaches over with his free hand, taking hold of Corey’s. Hold on! I need to get a better grip so I can pull you….

And then Mammon was sitting next to him, cross legged with a playful smile on his face.

No, not now! Corey begged off, looking back at the hand he’s clutching the bottom of the seat with as he tries to readjust his grip without surrendering to the calamitous fall himself.

Corey this just won’t do. It wont do at all.

What do you want?! We already made a deal!

And I’m adding another clause. He points at Jace, at their interlocked hands. Drop him.

Jace, recognition dawning on his features, calls out to Mammon. You son of a bitch!

I’m not dropping him! Corey plants a foot against the hull just to the left of the open door.

Yes…you….will! Mammon reared up, completely unaffected by the momentum of the chopper or the buffeting blasts of wind.

Corey became aware of the pilot calling out to them, saying something, but it's lost. I can’t. I can’t!

Then poor little Frankie’s eyeballs burn in his skull because you couldn’t sacrifice a drug dealer!

Corey, don’t let me fall! Don’t let me fall! Jace pleaded as his grip white knuckled even more.

He’s dying anyway, Corey. He can’t have much time.

Shut up! Shut UP! Corey shut his eyes, drying desperately to drown out the complete sensory overload of the moment so he could just THINK. Christian’s words returned to him again. A good man. A good man.

A good man.

And Corey lets go.

Jace’s betrayed screams are soon cut out by the whirring of the helicopter’s blades.

Christ, was that Jace?! Did we lose him?! The pilot whipped about in his seat, drenched in fear.

Corey opened his eyes. Mammon was gone. Jace was gone.

Close the damn door!

Corey steadied himself, and then, getting his knees up under him, he crawls to the door, takes hold of the latch and pushes all of his weight into it. Finally, he’s able to seal the cabin off.

Now talk to me kid! Did Jace….?

He was shot. He got hit. I couldn’t do anything for him.

Damn it! God fucking….!

Corey slumped to his side, waves of revulsion wracking his body. He closed his eyes again, and wondered what kind of man he was.

~~~~~~~~~~


Down below, a boy sees his adoptive father fall to his death. Amari’s breath forms icy shadows in the air as he drops to his knees in shock. He barely heard his father’s screams as he fell. So Amari added his own. His ragged vocal chords elicit a heart wrenching, guttural howl. He sinks down onto his forearms, roof gravel biting his flesh, as he shrieks miserably into the indifferent concrete. But, there was one notion that stood out above all. Only one true conclusion to be had.

Corey Smith must die.

TWO DAYS LATER


Corey is instantly swarmed by a tide of humanity. His people. The people he saved. The people who saved him. The children were about his waist and knees. Older friends clapping him on the shoulder or going in for hugs. The prodigal son was home. He was well. And Corey dug deep to reciprocate their joy, returning hugs, smiling and laughing.

Dolly and Christian stood off to the side, simply watching at first. Dolly frowned.

Something’s wrong.

Yeah.

Christian wades into the masses, pleasantly begging them off, offering up exhortations about Corey’s need for rest. With some reluctance, the people soon begin to disperse. Corey kisses Christian on the cheek. Dolly makes her way over on her crutches. Corey whispers something to Christian, and then he hastily walks into the house and doesn’t stop until he reaches the room he shares with Christian. Dolly nods in Christian’s direction. Christian nods back and follows Corey into the house, up the stairs, and into their room. As Christian enters, Corey is simply standing in the midst of things, eyes slowly filling up with tears.

It didn’t work…?

No….it’s….yes….I….

Christian swooped in, catching Corey as he is afflicted with full body sobs that almost send him to the floor. Holding on tight, Christian brought his lips up to the flesh just below Corey’s ear.

It’s okay. It’s okay.

But all Corey could hear were Jace’s screams rebounding inside his head. That and the resolute fact that his well being had been paid for in blood.

NOW


Corey worked the bag furiously, lashing out with rapid fire punches and kicks. His expression set into a grim determination, so focused was he that Christian, watching from afar, intuitively knew. Because he had experienced it before too. Because for all of Corey's recent smiles and jovialty, a film lurked just beneath the surface. A fine sheen of ache that, in the quiet moments, bled through the surface.

This wasn’t just a particularly intense workout. No.

This was a man working through his ghosts. His truth.

His Veritas.













[Image: tumblr_ndd0qvWDHG1tc08xbo1_400.gif]


Hello, gentle readers. It is I, Mammon. And when I say "readers", I mean readers. I see you out there!

So, I hope you all didn't get too bent out of shape with my disruption of Corey's narrative. I didn't think it hurt the overall pathos between Thad and Corey. If anything, I think it added a bit of spice, eh?!

And Thad....love your work! Whoever does your dialogue...? Truly inspiring! I mean, not Doc D'Ville inspiring, but inspriring nonetheless.

And you know, I think Thad's motivations throughout this entire arc have made perfect sense! It is, as the French say, Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir! That is, it is better to prevent than to heal. And what Thad Duke did was prevent Corey from eventually making his treachery ever more clear! Isn't that right, Thad? I'm quite sure it was coming. At some point. Most likely.

But! As striking as the interplay between ThadxCorey has been, do any of the rest of you get the sense it's ringing a bit hollow at this point? We all know these two saps are going to hug it out eventually, right? Right?! Well, I'm giving you all the option to nip it in the bud! You see, I've worked my magic fingers and...oh, look! There's a poll there! Go take a look!

.....


Did you look? A little confused, are you? Well don't be, silly! All I'm asking for is a simple donation....

///:bloodmoney:///

....to the "Make Corey Smith Go Away" fund. Think of it as a retirement pool if it helps! But we need your support if we are going to make this e-fe....erm....PROMOTION the most stimulating experience it can be for all involved. Just toss a coin to your witcher! That's still a popular saying, right?

I'll be seeing you. Maybe in person! Accessing the dark web is so much easier from the inside....







]]>
RECAP

Corey Smith is getting closer and closer to getting his final revenge on Madison Dyson. Having injected himself with the healing nanites that repaired all the damage to his brain, he finds himself a newly replenished man ready to take on the world. But, is he ready to challenge his own morals to take that final plunge? When the time comes to put Madison down for good, will he? And moreover, will he survive the endeavor? And what of Madison’s former ally Jace? Will he be able to prevent his son Amari from becoming a new monstrous iteration of The Engineer?

And, most importantly, has Thad Duke FINALLY stopped lying?



The din of the competing voices created a disorienting crosshatch of sounds. Corey strained to block it all out, funneling his full attention on the task at hand. Before Whisper could kill him, that is. He lined up the ruination of Madison’s body in his gunsights.

And he fired.

[Image: BetterFirmHoiho-max-1mb.gif]


Amari’s voice came out like a clipped cry as Madison’s tank was riddled with holes. The life saving liquid in the tank started to flow against the new points of egress, causing the glass to splinter around the bullet holes. Inside, Madison was screaming, but the device that carried her voice must have somehow been rendered inert.

Jace tried to hold fast to Amari, attempting to bring the syringe with its mollifying cocktail of meds to bear on his son’s neck. But Amari fought hard, planting the meat of his palm on Jace’s chin and pushing him away. He set in on Corey, but the damage was already playing out before all of them.

Madison’s tank exploded, and the liquid cascaded forth, unchecked by the broken glass. The force of it set Amari to fumbling, and Corey had to brace himself to avoid falling. Madison’s body was buffeted by the flowing liquid, like a windsock at the mercy of a gale. The mask about her mouth was the only thing restraining her for a time, until it snapped and her body flowed free onto the floor. Practically at Corey’s feet.

Amari screamed in a hoarse rage, pushing himself to his feet. But his father was already on him, again trying to drug him into submission. From the hall, Corey could hear the clomping of boots and the frenzied calls to action of Madison’s personal guard.

And then, there was Madison herself. Gazing up at Corey with those milky eyes, the mottled skin of her face twisting and contorting with each wracking gasp for air. Air that couldn’t possibly fill dead lungs. And Corey knew then that she was suffocating.

It would be a release.

His finger tensed on the trigger once more. Two. Two more rounds in the chamber. The guards were drawing nearer. Amari tried desperately to claw past his father to save this broken thing at Corey’s feet.

He saw fear in her face then. She raised one withered hand into the path the bullet would take, as if she could stop it with brittle bone and sallow flesh alone.

Corey leveled the gun at the white expanse of her left eye.

And he fired again.

That was when everything stopped. To Corey’s astonishment the bullet drew to a halt in midair. Madison had stopped moving, but not out of terror. She had literally just stopped moving. Corey hastily looked around him, and found that everything and everyone else was similarly time locked. Jace was embroiled in an eternal struggle with his son. The Blackwater men rushing into the room were a stillborn parade of aggressive tendencies. And yet, Corey found that he could move freely.

…what? He hissed, terror mounting as the surreal nature of what was happening gripped him. His thoughts strayed. Perhaps someone shot me. Perhaps I’m dying, and this is my dying brain’s attempt to make sense of my surroundings before blinking out forever. But if it was death, it was a slow rider taking its dear sweet time.

Corey’s macabre revelry was interrupted then by a deep groan, a formidable sound that seemed to emanate from all around him. It sounded like the steel bones of a massive skyscraper giving way. And then, his blood truly ran cold. He looked towards Jace and Amari, and somehow the scene seemed two dimensional. An artificial flatness in reality, standing in defiance of all physical law. Corey found himself terrified by it. And then it shattered, and a man stood in the break with weaving darkness at his back.

He stepped forward, the shattered remnants of the broken wall of reality bouncing off his suit jacket as he went. Corey could only look on in numb fear as the being approached.

[Image: constantine-walking.gif]


The being, having reached Madison's prostrate form, sat down Indian style in a manner that was none too graceful. He began to study the suspended bullet, and then, raising his hand to it, he flicked it away like a boy flicking a paper football.

Plink! The being spoke playfully as he knocked it away. Then, drawing a ragged sigh, he cracked his neck and settled into position, hunching his back and licking his lips lasciviously.

Yeah, that’s one way it coulda went down.

What are you? Corey blurted, unable to restrain a tremor.

The being wagged a finger at Corey as a cutting smile split his pallid face. Skipping right past the “who”. Bright kid.

Corey bucked as he saw, for a fraction of a second, what looked like a blackened serpent’s tongue pass between the man’s lips. Flicking out at the environs and retreating so fast he started to doubt if he saw it at all almost as soon as the thought occurred to him. You wouldn’t be the first…. Corey stopped suddenly. Aiwass?

Why don't you, uh, why don’t you sit down? The figure gestured at the spot on the other side of Madison. Before he could even realize it he was complying, folding his legs up underneath him. Madison’s body lay between them like a demented coffee table, adding an extra rung of surreality to the experience.

I’m not Aiwass. I tore him in half with my bare hands. He wasn’t gloating. Simply stating a fact. But he spoke with a grimace, almost as though the simple act of speech somehow pained him.

How do I know that’s true?

You don’t. But it’s inconsequential.

Corey stopped to study the man, trying desperately to be still his hammering heart. What are you then?

Your Bible christened me Mammon, so it must be so.

What?!

The man pulled his head back, almost as though he was offended by Corey’s incredulity. You can accept an Aiwass, but you can’t accept me? And again, that blackened viper’s tongue, back and forth like a shot. I need this woman alive. He had changed the subject abruptly, ticking his eyes down towards Madison and then meeting Corey’s gaze again. You can’t have her.

She’s monstrous.

So am I.

What do you WANT?

The mysterious stranger’s mouth pulled into a savage rictus of bared teeth. Money, money, money…. Then, with a savage lunge at Corey, he whispered in his ear. ….yummy, yummy, yummy. Corey gasped in fear, and Mammon reoriented himself. We’re reforming the club, Corey. We’re making new Engineers. And we’re going to have some fun.

In a flash, Corey raised the gun on Mammon and pulled the trigger, drawing on him point blank with a shot that would have shattered his forehead and blown his gray matter out the back of his skull like so much content under pressure. But as Corey squeezed the trigger, the gun started to devolve into its component parts, clattering to the floor harmlessly with the bullet, unfired, still in the chamber. Corey panted and fell back on his haunches, skittering backwards away from the thing.

Please don’t go. I need to talk to you. It’s very important.

HOW ARE YOU HERE? Corey’s face was broken out in flop sweat. And yet, he still tried to make inroads in making sense of this abomination.

Well, that….THAT, is a fascinating story. Again, the painful grimaces as it spoke, again the subtle flick of that blackened tongue. I come from out there.

He points at YOU.

Out where?

Out. THERE.

I don’t understand? Space?

Mammon chuckled. It sounded like an ewe being strangled. How long did you think you could play with the boundaries between time and space without consequences? I really should write the XWF a thank you card for concentrating so much destruction in one place. Betsy Granger. Lux. He paused. Alias. Why, Alias even makes quite the show of it, doesn’t he? Yesssss. Defending his pretty little bauble as he spits in the face of cosmic law.

Are you saying….are you saying WE caused this?

Cause implies foreknowledge. You left the door open by accident The leering smile on his face betrays the perverse enjoyment he seems to be taking out of this. And I know Corey, how shocking this must have been for you. This casual interruption of the tried and true hero’s tale. But you see, I couldn’t let you FUCK THIS UP! His voice rose into a restrained rage, spraying spittle as he placed a harsh cadence on each word.

Corey winced in the face of Mammon’s anger, but rallied. You’re not making sense. Where do you come from? Are you from Hell?

I’m from Jersey City. He chuckled. I’m from everywhere that plays host to the breed of avarice I require.

What does that even mean?

It means I’m here because your friends’ cosmic flounderings made it so. So I intend to make the best of it. Which by your standard means, “ make the worst of it”, I suppose. He shrugged playfully. Then looking at Madison with a start as though he had forgotten all about her. Oh! He passed a hand over her face, and suddenly a black breath mask appeared over her mouth. Almost…screwed the pooch. He cracked his jaw as he spoke.

You're going to turn Amari into an Engineer.

That is the plan. He gestured at Madison. Her as well. Why not two?

Fucks sakes...Corey breathed.

One plus one is even more fun, fun, fun. He wiggled his head playfully with each utterance of the word fun.

I'll stop you.

No you won't. This ends here.

You're going to kill me? He visibly tenses.

No. Mammon said with a touch of wistfulness. That would martyr you, which causes me so much trouble later on. Plus, it implicates us when we'd rather keep a low profile. For the moment anyway. So we're going to make a deal instead. 'Kay? Who "us" was goes unspoken.

Do I have to sign in blood? Corey jabbed, a bit more confidently than he felt.

I mean, if you want to. That hoary old stereotype. But no, your verbal acquiescence suffices. He claps his hands together, gritting his teeth. So, offer number one. And I think it's rather good! You stay away from my pets, and Thad Duke becomes your friend again forevermore.

Corey shook his head incredulously. You can't….

I can, Corey. I CAN. I can make him your friend again. He'll wake up tomorrow and POOF, all the animosity will have melted away. I can make that happen for you.

You're lying.

Why would I utter such a provable lie? I want you out of our affairs for good. The being paused. You can have him back.

Corey's insides lurched at the enormity of it all. To think, it could so simply all be set right again. A wave of the proverbial wand. His mind strayed to the kiss they shared, an intimate moment that, while not a prelude to something more, was an exemplar of how deep the roots of their relationship had once gone. Deep down into the pulsing heart of the very Earth, a deathless and complete beauty that would broach no darkness.

Except it all fell apart.

Corey bit at his bottom lip in consternation, eyes locked on this mysterious figure offering him the world.

Why would you ever say "no"?

Why would I ever say no? But Corey knew damn well why he would say no. Because to win Thad over this way would be a hollow victory and a punitive disregard for the man's free will. But how tempting it was. The greatest sins always are.

No. No, I won't have it.

Corey expects rage, but instead Mammon proffers up a giddy smile. I’m so glad you picked option 2. Because option 2 is the destruction of everyone you love. Mammon frowned. I will turn your little pissant commune in Florida into an abattoir. Christian, butchered. Dolly, butchered. And just because I can and because I think you still harbor a sliver of affection for him, Thad, BUTCHERED. I’ll take little Frankie with me to hell and boil him until his eyeballs melt in his skull and he dies screaming for Thaddy Daddy to save him. He leans in. Are you with me, Corey?

Corey closed his eyes, face trembling as he pictured this promised savagery in his mind’s eye. Yes. He replied reluctantly.

So do we have a deal? Henceforth you don’t interfere with us?

He breathed a weary sigh. Yeah.

IIIIIIII CAN’T HEAR YOU!

YES! Yes, we have a deal!

Oh good. Then we can return to our regularly scheduled broadcast.

NOW


[Image: fbi_academy.jpg]


The shot is tight on Corey as he kicks it off.

Last stop. All aboard. He smiles.

The shot pans back to reveal the interior of one of many offices at FBI Headquarters. Corey is sitting at a table with a suited man. A laptop is also open on the table.

Here I am at Quantico, Virginia, vaunted home of America’s agency of super sleuths, the CIA!

Actually, we’re the FBI.

See! These guys are SOOOO on point! Just kidding Special Agent Kilmeade. Corey shakes the agent’s hand. So you might be asking yourselves, “Corey, what are you doing hanging out with the Feds when you have a big time match to prepare for?” Answer: I’m using their bitchin’ training facilities all the while tearing Thad Duke a whole ass new one YET AGAIN. Now, as you guys might have noticed, Thad Duke took FOREVER to get to his point in his last promo. See, that right there is a sign somebody doesn’t have much to say. Puffing up his piece with hollow self congratulatory platitude before working his way into an astute dissection of about two seconds worth of video clip that he says completely demolishes my claim that I was happy about him winning the Universal Championship. Nevermind that I never, not once, voiced my displeasure with him being Universal Champion. Never, not once, did I CHALLENGE him for that championship he said I had such a hard on for. No, just that I was caught on camera not jumping for joy and wetting myself to the tune of Thad’s theme music as he held that belt aloft.

We’re really using taxpayer funded resources on this, aren’t we? The agent inquires skeptically.

We sure are! So here I am with an actual expert video analyst to review the footage in question and see if Thad’s claim holds water. Agent Kilmeade, if you will?

The agent, looking a little less than thrilled, turns to the laptop, which is already keyed up to show the following selection:

Quote:Thaddeus is awarded the XWF Universal Championship as he drops to both knees clutching the title to his chest while out on the floor a dejected Chris Page, Witness and Corey Smith are at ringside. Fireworks start to explode above the ring in Tombstone Arizona lighting the sky up as the crowd roars with approval.

The agent meticulously slows down the two seconds worth of footage down to the microsecond, stopping to zoom in on the faces of the three men in question.

So, in your expert opinion, what does it look like is going on there?

Well, in my expert opinion, it looks like this Chris Page guy looks pretty unhappy, while that weirdo in the mask and you are just kind of sitting there.

Huh. So you would say it looks like a “dejected Chris Page…AND Corey Smith and Culty Fuzz?”

“Culty Fuzz…?”

Just roll with it. So it doesn't look like we're all dejected?

I mean, yeah, your read on it is correct. And, considering the one guy is wearing a mask it wouldn’t even make sense to say he looks dejected.

HUH. Corey smirks. Well, I guess it all boils down to your read on the situation. Corey winks at the camera. Thank you for your expert analysis.

Yeah, sure. But all you really had to do was watch the tape. He shrugs. Anyway, I got some real work to do.

Oh sure, sure! Can I use your office?

No.

An awkward pause ensues before the shot abruptly transitions to Corey in Quantico’s elite training facility!

Aaaaand, we’re back. So! About that tape that Thad Duke desperately tried to STREEEEETCH into a searing indictment of yours truly. Turns out it’s just another play on words, or in this case, images. Another twisting of the truth. Because that is what Thad Duke has been doing this ENTIRE time.

And fuck me I guess for not looking like I’m in a state of ejaculatory ecstacy in a two second clip after I just got bumped out of the ring on the back of my injury prone head. Yeah, my bell was pretty rung after that shot. It may have even been one of the precipitators of my most recent decline. Who knows. But the bottom line is this. Thad Duke tried to expand a blink and you’ll miss it clip of footage into a whole ass condemnation of me. Because that’s ALL he has to work with. I showed literally no other indications that I was upset with him being the Universal champ. Not a one. But all it takes to hang me on a cross in Thad’s eyes is a blip of me with a pained neutral expression after landing on my skull.

Ridiculous.

But so, so indicative of what Thad’s tried to pull this entire time. Thad, do you know why, by your own admission, most people would buy what I was saying at face value? Because it’s the truth, you ass. And I’m sick and tired of your relentless reconfiguration of the last year of our relationship so you can try to paint me as the villain. I’m sick of your psychic deductions into my exact thought processes like you’re some discount Kreskin motherfucker. And I’m sick, sick, SICK of you twisting around the last year’s worth of love I’ve shown you so you can try to score some sick facade of moral authority.

So I did what you’re not supposed to do.

I stopped watching your promo.

Cut that shit off whole hog. Because redefining the minutiae of our relationship is precisely what you want. You want us all getting stuck up in the nooks and crannies, like that video clip, because it distracts from the big picture. And because I’m a big picture guy, that’s precisely what I’m going to end this on. A recounting of the objective truth of both of our actions so the people can decide for themselves who is in the wrong here.

This started with you winning the Universal Championship. After that match, I took credit for helping you win. Which is ACCURATE. But, by my own admission, maybe a little too much. Maybe I should have kept that to myself. Maybe I should have realized you weren’t secure enough to handle that. So that’s MY fault. I take accountability for that.

Next comes Continuum. I didn’t trust Doc as far as I could toss his Satanic ass, and while I disagreed with your relationship with him, I never once saw it as a reason to discontinue our friendship. In fact, I hung in there with Continuum because I was afraid you were getting played. Maybe I was right. Maybe I was wrong. But my intentions were always noble. Oh, and you gave me a Tag Team title and then later tried to claim I was an asshole for accepting it. ‘Natch.

All the while, I cultivated a friendly rapport with Alias. Not to spite you, but because I thought maybe he was someone who needed help. Turns out, the guy is effectively superhuman and needs approximately zero percent help from me, but hey, again I was trying to do what was right. Unfortunately, Alias also had a big hate on for you. A hate which, at the time, I considered neither logical nor fair and attributed it to a confused state of mind. Also important to note, despite his stated hatred of you, Alias had ample opportunity to get at you and make due on that hatred. How many times were you at the same show together? Shit, once more with feeling, HE SHARED A RING WITH YOU AT WAR GAMES! But never once did any more harm come to you than what could naturally be expected to come of a match at War Games.

Also important to note, and this was something Alias himself pointed out ages ago, Alias never asked me to stop being your friend. The Doc on the other hand? All the fucking time. All the time he was telling you to dump me. Who was manipulating who? Looks like Doc won in the end. Good job, Thad.

Anyway, things continue in that vein until War Games. You signed up to be a captain. I did the same. And, I assume, we were both trying to draft the best team possible. Alias ended up on my team because he was the top guy in the XWF bar none. In fact, it would have been downright idiotic for me to NOT pick this nigh superhuman freight train of a man. Me picking Alias was never a refutation of our friendship, it was just objectively good drafting. And if you hadn’t been a captain, you know who I would have drafted first? You. Because at that point you were the one soul in the XWF that I knew I could trust above all others.

Corey sighs and hangs his head.

So what do we think so far folks?

He chuckles mirthlessly and then continues.

Back to reality. So, as we all know, you decided to air out our dirty laundry in your closing War Games promo. Instead of coming to me and hashing it out behind closed doors, you just had to sing it to the rooftops that you’re an aggrieved party and you’re just not gonna take it anymore! You turned the ruination of our friendship into just another wrestling storyline. Thanks for that.

Sooo, yadda yadda, Corey’s team wins War Games, etc….etc….

Now, naturally, I’m pissed. My best friend just metaphorically popped a bullet into my skull. So I decide I want to hash this out in a match. So I go to management and ask for one. And before they can even render an answer, Thad Duke tells me and the world, “nuh uh.” And pick your reason! “I’m not doing this on free TV”.” “If you had just asked me directly instead of going to management I would have considered it.” I mean, fucking PICK ONE THAD. But yeah, at any rate, he decided he wanted nothing to do with me back then. Probably because he couldn’t have borne such an ego crushing loss after he just lost to my team at War Games. Yeah, he had to get some wins back under his belt to rebrand the ol’ self esteem. I get it.

And, of course, we come to our finale. Where, instead of giving me a match and doing the honorable thing, he ambushes me, kicks me in the head (the area that is the MOST bad touch for me), and causes me to lose the XTreme championship. And I repay that in kind by cashing in on him at Relentless, feeding him the same bad medicine (pun intended) he fed me.

Oh, and bonus round! Thad follows all that by joining up with noted scum sucker, B.O.B. founder, and backstabber of Robert Main, Chronic Chris Page. Wow, wow, WOW. This shit, out of all this, might just speak for itself the best.

So there we have it, folks. The OBJECTIVE chain of events. And I openly admit, I made some missteps. But even in doing so, I did my damndest to maintain a modicum of integrity in the face of the bitterest emotional loss I’ve experienced since I lost Lux. Corey tamps down on a quiver in his voice. He takes a moment to collect himself before starting anew. But I’m only human. I could only take so much. So, Thad, and the people who support Thad, I want you all to take a good long, hard look at this chain of events. Without the spin. Without the minutia. And I want you to ask yourselves, who here displayed the preponderance of integrity? Who here tried to do things the right way?

I think the answer’s pretty fucking obvious. But hey, you don’t even have to ask me. You can ask Frankie instead.

Frankie. The boy who still believes in me to the point that he wants me to be his Godfather. Thad, are you gonna tell me your own son is mistaken? Corey’s features warp into a semblance of incredulous disgust. How have you managed to square it away in that thick skull that I am both the devil made flesh AND somebody your son loves and respects? Cognitive dissonance, much? Jesus I wouldn’t want to be your head right now.

Frankie, it would be my honor to be your Godfather. Corey says this solemnly. But even more than that, I’d like to give you your Dad back. Thad…hasn’t been Thad. And I don’t know if it’s just what he says is bothering him, or if there’s something more to it.

Thad, this match is going to happen because at this point, it has to. We need to work through this bad blood between us. We need a release valve for all this anger. And while I have meant everything I’ve said here tonight, I acknowledge how wholly stupid this has all been.

So here we come to the crux of it, where each other’s character will really be born out. Thad, after our match, are you finally willing to have that conversation? No more talking over each other in promos. No more attacks. Just one more match…and we come to Jesus. And you know what? I don’t even want you to do it for me. I want you to do it for Frankie. We owe it to him to get our shit together. And I think, at the very least, we can agree on that.

I’ve….sacrificed a lot to get to this point. To get well again. I’d hate to sacrifice anything more.

Corey continues to gaze into the camera’s all seeing eye for a moment longer, before it fades to black.

THEN


Jace slams against the wall, taken up by his own momentum, as they plunge up the stairs. Corey is just behind, keeping pace. What the fuck happened back there?! Jace pants as he keeps pushing himself forward.

I’ll explain as we’re leaving. Corey grabs hold of the bannister to steady his ascent. Is your guy gonna be there?!

Jace bursts through the door at the top of the stairs, out onto a flattened stretch of roof with a helicopter, blades whirling, ready for takeoff. Corey pumps a fist in the air. Yes!

The tamping of boots is not far behind, and Corey slams the metal door shut behind him, looking for anything to brace it shut. Shit!

Just get in! Jace gestures frantically for the helicopter. Corey reluctantly backs away from the door and heads for their escape. Jace is in first, and he’s already bringing a pistol to bear on the door as Corey slides in right after him.

What are we lookin’ at Jace? The pilot barks out.

Just take off! Go, go, go!

The pilot curses audibly, even above the din, and the helicopter starts to lurch into the air. Just then, the door explodes open and five armed Blackwater troops spill out onto the roof. It takes them a moment to realize what’s going on, and when they do, they take aim and open fire.

Jesus!

Bullets land against the hull of the chopper with loud echoing thuds. Corey rolls into a ball, trying to give up as little surface area as possible. But he hears another staccato salvo of machine gun fire, this time with an accompanying crack of glass. The pilot is still cursing, and he banks hard left before either of them have a chance to close the door. Corey looks up as he starts to slide out of the chopper, bracing himself just in time. He gasps in terror at the growing distance between themselves and the ground. And that’s when he spies Jace, just barely clutching onto the edge of the door, body flying freely in the night air.

Fuck! Corey hollers, and he instantly reaches out towards Jace with one hand while taking hold of the foundation of one of the seats. Grab on! Jace, wide eyed and terrified, reaches over with his free hand, taking hold of Corey’s. Hold on! I need to get a better grip so I can pull you….

And then Mammon was sitting next to him, cross legged with a playful smile on his face.

No, not now! Corey begged off, looking back at the hand he’s clutching the bottom of the seat with as he tries to readjust his grip without surrendering to the calamitous fall himself.

Corey this just won’t do. It wont do at all.

What do you want?! We already made a deal!

And I’m adding another clause. He points at Jace, at their interlocked hands. Drop him.

Jace, recognition dawning on his features, calls out to Mammon. You son of a bitch!

I’m not dropping him! Corey plants a foot against the hull just to the left of the open door.

Yes…you….will! Mammon reared up, completely unaffected by the momentum of the chopper or the buffeting blasts of wind.

Corey became aware of the pilot calling out to them, saying something, but it's lost. I can’t. I can’t!

Then poor little Frankie’s eyeballs burn in his skull because you couldn’t sacrifice a drug dealer!

Corey, don’t let me fall! Don’t let me fall! Jace pleaded as his grip white knuckled even more.

He’s dying anyway, Corey. He can’t have much time.

Shut up! Shut UP! Corey shut his eyes, drying desperately to drown out the complete sensory overload of the moment so he could just THINK. Christian’s words returned to him again. A good man. A good man.

A good man.

And Corey lets go.

Jace’s betrayed screams are soon cut out by the whirring of the helicopter’s blades.

Christ, was that Jace?! Did we lose him?! The pilot whipped about in his seat, drenched in fear.

Corey opened his eyes. Mammon was gone. Jace was gone.

Close the damn door!

Corey steadied himself, and then, getting his knees up under him, he crawls to the door, takes hold of the latch and pushes all of his weight into it. Finally, he’s able to seal the cabin off.

Now talk to me kid! Did Jace….?

He was shot. He got hit. I couldn’t do anything for him.

Damn it! God fucking….!

Corey slumped to his side, waves of revulsion wracking his body. He closed his eyes again, and wondered what kind of man he was.

~~~~~~~~~~


Down below, a boy sees his adoptive father fall to his death. Amari’s breath forms icy shadows in the air as he drops to his knees in shock. He barely heard his father’s screams as he fell. So Amari added his own. His ragged vocal chords elicit a heart wrenching, guttural howl. He sinks down onto his forearms, roof gravel biting his flesh, as he shrieks miserably into the indifferent concrete. But, there was one notion that stood out above all. Only one true conclusion to be had.

Corey Smith must die.

TWO DAYS LATER


Corey is instantly swarmed by a tide of humanity. His people. The people he saved. The people who saved him. The children were about his waist and knees. Older friends clapping him on the shoulder or going in for hugs. The prodigal son was home. He was well. And Corey dug deep to reciprocate their joy, returning hugs, smiling and laughing.

Dolly and Christian stood off to the side, simply watching at first. Dolly frowned.

Something’s wrong.

Yeah.

Christian wades into the masses, pleasantly begging them off, offering up exhortations about Corey’s need for rest. With some reluctance, the people soon begin to disperse. Corey kisses Christian on the cheek. Dolly makes her way over on her crutches. Corey whispers something to Christian, and then he hastily walks into the house and doesn’t stop until he reaches the room he shares with Christian. Dolly nods in Christian’s direction. Christian nods back and follows Corey into the house, up the stairs, and into their room. As Christian enters, Corey is simply standing in the midst of things, eyes slowly filling up with tears.

It didn’t work…?

No….it’s….yes….I….

Christian swooped in, catching Corey as he is afflicted with full body sobs that almost send him to the floor. Holding on tight, Christian brought his lips up to the flesh just below Corey’s ear.

It’s okay. It’s okay.

But all Corey could hear were Jace’s screams rebounding inside his head. That and the resolute fact that his well being had been paid for in blood.

NOW


Corey worked the bag furiously, lashing out with rapid fire punches and kicks. His expression set into a grim determination, so focused was he that Christian, watching from afar, intuitively knew. Because he had experienced it before too. Because for all of Corey's recent smiles and jovialty, a film lurked just beneath the surface. A fine sheen of ache that, in the quiet moments, bled through the surface.

This wasn’t just a particularly intense workout. No.

This was a man working through his ghosts. His truth.

His Veritas.













[Image: tumblr_ndd0qvWDHG1tc08xbo1_400.gif]


Hello, gentle readers. It is I, Mammon. And when I say "readers", I mean readers. I see you out there!

So, I hope you all didn't get too bent out of shape with my disruption of Corey's narrative. I didn't think it hurt the overall pathos between Thad and Corey. If anything, I think it added a bit of spice, eh?!

And Thad....love your work! Whoever does your dialogue...? Truly inspiring! I mean, not Doc D'Ville inspiring, but inspriring nonetheless.

And you know, I think Thad's motivations throughout this entire arc have made perfect sense! It is, as the French say, Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir! That is, it is better to prevent than to heal. And what Thad Duke did was prevent Corey from eventually making his treachery ever more clear! Isn't that right, Thad? I'm quite sure it was coming. At some point. Most likely.

But! As striking as the interplay between ThadxCorey has been, do any of the rest of you get the sense it's ringing a bit hollow at this point? We all know these two saps are going to hug it out eventually, right? Right?! Well, I'm giving you all the option to nip it in the bud! You see, I've worked my magic fingers and...oh, look! There's a poll there! Go take a look!

.....


Did you look? A little confused, are you? Well don't be, silly! All I'm asking for is a simple donation....

///:bloodmoney:///

....to the "Make Corey Smith Go Away" fund. Think of it as a retirement pool if it helps! But we need your support if we are going to make this e-fe....erm....PROMOTION the most stimulating experience it can be for all involved. Just toss a coin to your witcher! That's still a popular saying, right?

I'll be seeing you. Maybe in person! Accessing the dark web is so much easier from the inside....







]]> <![CDATA[American Gothic Part 2: Electric Bugaloo]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42306 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 09:13:46 -0800 Mercy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42306
Oh my God.

A family is sitting around the table, which is laden down with a Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings. But they’re all dead. Quite dead. Grandma has the turkey shoved onto the stump where her head used to be. Carving knives stick out of Dad’s eyes. Mom has had her throat slit. She’s on the floor, probably the slowest to die. And the kids? A little boy is passed out in his bowl of stew, the bowl running red with blood and vomit. A little girl is laying on his shoulder, her face looking tenderized by a mallet, the meat dropping from the boy’s shoulder onto the floor.

Mercy stands at the head of the table, just behind the father, when Razors swoops in from stage left, holding a very expensive camera aloft and snapping pictures.

American Gothic eat your heart out. Razors intones as he keeps snapping shots. The fall of bourgeois capitalism to the ultimate nullifyer….DEATH. What say you, my artiste in training?

KiLL biAncA mCBRIdE…..

Razors scowls. That’s all I’ve bee hearing for two weeks! You know, I’m starting to regret getting you back into….

The sagging turkey slides off of Grandma’s neck stump, landing with a sickening plop on the floor.

I can work with that. He replies nonchalantly. But then, Mercy plucks one of the knives out of the man’s eye and starts jabbing it into his chest over and over. Each blow spraying blood everywhere.

Ohhhhh stop it! You’re ruining the symmetry of the scene! STOP IT! Razors jumps to Mercy’s side, taking the blade from her, which she is in complete compliance with.

Look, I know you’re frustrated. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to hurt something that fights back. But Bad Medicine is just days away, you don’t have to wait much longer. And this Bianca McBride? She seems like a feisty one, but with as little history as she has it’s a shit shoot just how much of a challenge she’ll be.

kilL Bi…

I know, I know, we already went there! And if you wanna kill her, go ahead. It wouldn’t be the first time a death happened in an XWF ring with zero repercussions, so I think you’re safe. But…you do have to remember this is just a standard match so….

Mercy jabs the knife into the table top and lets out a feral howl.

Look, I didn’t book it, okay! But it’s what you’re working with nonetheless. Which means no weapons. Until after the match. Then all bets are off. You’re going to have to use your fighting ability to take Bianca down, which I know you have in spades. I have faith in you Mercy. Now, do you want to say a little something to the camera.

Razors gestures at you, the viewer.

Mercy grunts and steps to the fore.

kIlL BIaNCA mcBRiDe. SEveR bEtWeEn C2 aNd C3. tURn YoU intO heAD on a StIcK. YoU wIll LIvE a LONG tiME pArAlyZed fRom nEck DoWN. tHeN I lEt RATs EAt YOUr fAcE.

tHiS is ARt.

Razors claps his hands together. Now you’re getting it! Art for art’s sake. But remember dear. AFTER. AFTER the match.

AfffTeRR… she purrs maliciously.

Now, why don’t you start cleaning this foul mess up while I have a talk with the people, hmmm?

Mercy turns back towards the table as Razors takes center stage. Improbably, he's wearing a cute sundress that’s splattered with blood, with a wide brimmed sun hat that he’s hung human fingers from. They dangle, almost comedically, in front of his face as he speaks.

Bianca, hi, we don’t know each other. But I felt the need to have a little chat with you to let you know what’ll become of you after the match. Do you appreciate art, Bianca? Go to museums? Well, museums are TRASH. They reject my works at every turn and threaten to call the police…yadda…yadda….fucking plebians! I have a feeling you’re in the same camp Bianca. Which makes it my extreme pleasure to inform you that your death will elevate you into the same annals where masterpieces like Michalengelo, the Mona Lisa, and 9/11 dwell. In death, you will be more beautiful and more meaningful than even YOU thought possible. Are you quite ready for that? Hmmmm?

Mercy pulls at the table cloth, sending the entire contents of the table to the floor with a dolorous crash. Razors cringes, but ignores her.

That beast back there? I changed her. Altered her. She is no longer good for anything but causing suffering and misery in the most inventive ways. I have literally turned her into a Pain God from which the bounty of my art is bequeathed like….like the Ten Commandments! Heh.

Ya know, everybody says they don’t expect mercy from their opponents. It’s trite, really. But in this case, I really, really don’t think you understand what that means. Mercy, ironically enough, is incapable of it. Literally incapable. I broke the parts of her brain that make her feel things like love, compassion, and reserve. Once you are in that ring with her, you’re swinging beef ready to be carved into loin. And the best part? SHE HATES YOU. Like, for no goddamn reason at all. It’s just the purest, most beautiful thing.

Bianca, nothing can prepare you. Nothing.

In the background, Mercy is still trying to clean up the mess. The headless grandmother slides off her chair with a meaty thwack, and that’s the lovely scene that sees us out.]]>
Oh my God.

A family is sitting around the table, which is laden down with a Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings. But they’re all dead. Quite dead. Grandma has the turkey shoved onto the stump where her head used to be. Carving knives stick out of Dad’s eyes. Mom has had her throat slit. She’s on the floor, probably the slowest to die. And the kids? A little boy is passed out in his bowl of stew, the bowl running red with blood and vomit. A little girl is laying on his shoulder, her face looking tenderized by a mallet, the meat dropping from the boy’s shoulder onto the floor.

Mercy stands at the head of the table, just behind the father, when Razors swoops in from stage left, holding a very expensive camera aloft and snapping pictures.

American Gothic eat your heart out. Razors intones as he keeps snapping shots. The fall of bourgeois capitalism to the ultimate nullifyer….DEATH. What say you, my artiste in training?

KiLL biAncA mCBRIdE…..

Razors scowls. That’s all I’ve bee hearing for two weeks! You know, I’m starting to regret getting you back into….

The sagging turkey slides off of Grandma’s neck stump, landing with a sickening plop on the floor.

I can work with that. He replies nonchalantly. But then, Mercy plucks one of the knives out of the man’s eye and starts jabbing it into his chest over and over. Each blow spraying blood everywhere.

Ohhhhh stop it! You’re ruining the symmetry of the scene! STOP IT! Razors jumps to Mercy’s side, taking the blade from her, which she is in complete compliance with.

Look, I know you’re frustrated. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to hurt something that fights back. But Bad Medicine is just days away, you don’t have to wait much longer. And this Bianca McBride? She seems like a feisty one, but with as little history as she has it’s a shit shoot just how much of a challenge she’ll be.

kilL Bi…

I know, I know, we already went there! And if you wanna kill her, go ahead. It wouldn’t be the first time a death happened in an XWF ring with zero repercussions, so I think you’re safe. But…you do have to remember this is just a standard match so….

Mercy jabs the knife into the table top and lets out a feral howl.

Look, I didn’t book it, okay! But it’s what you’re working with nonetheless. Which means no weapons. Until after the match. Then all bets are off. You’re going to have to use your fighting ability to take Bianca down, which I know you have in spades. I have faith in you Mercy. Now, do you want to say a little something to the camera.

Razors gestures at you, the viewer.

Mercy grunts and steps to the fore.

kIlL BIaNCA mcBRiDe. SEveR bEtWeEn C2 aNd C3. tURn YoU intO heAD on a StIcK. YoU wIll LIvE a LONG tiME pArAlyZed fRom nEck DoWN. tHeN I lEt RATs EAt YOUr fAcE.

tHiS is ARt.

Razors claps his hands together. Now you’re getting it! Art for art’s sake. But remember dear. AFTER. AFTER the match.

AfffTeRR… she purrs maliciously.

Now, why don’t you start cleaning this foul mess up while I have a talk with the people, hmmm?

Mercy turns back towards the table as Razors takes center stage. Improbably, he's wearing a cute sundress that’s splattered with blood, with a wide brimmed sun hat that he’s hung human fingers from. They dangle, almost comedically, in front of his face as he speaks.

Bianca, hi, we don’t know each other. But I felt the need to have a little chat with you to let you know what’ll become of you after the match. Do you appreciate art, Bianca? Go to museums? Well, museums are TRASH. They reject my works at every turn and threaten to call the police…yadda…yadda….fucking plebians! I have a feeling you’re in the same camp Bianca. Which makes it my extreme pleasure to inform you that your death will elevate you into the same annals where masterpieces like Michalengelo, the Mona Lisa, and 9/11 dwell. In death, you will be more beautiful and more meaningful than even YOU thought possible. Are you quite ready for that? Hmmmm?

Mercy pulls at the table cloth, sending the entire contents of the table to the floor with a dolorous crash. Razors cringes, but ignores her.

That beast back there? I changed her. Altered her. She is no longer good for anything but causing suffering and misery in the most inventive ways. I have literally turned her into a Pain God from which the bounty of my art is bequeathed like….like the Ten Commandments! Heh.

Ya know, everybody says they don’t expect mercy from their opponents. It’s trite, really. But in this case, I really, really don’t think you understand what that means. Mercy, ironically enough, is incapable of it. Literally incapable. I broke the parts of her brain that make her feel things like love, compassion, and reserve. Once you are in that ring with her, you’re swinging beef ready to be carved into loin. And the best part? SHE HATES YOU. Like, for no goddamn reason at all. It’s just the purest, most beautiful thing.

Bianca, nothing can prepare you. Nothing.

In the background, Mercy is still trying to clean up the mess. The headless grandmother slides off her chair with a meaty thwack, and that’s the lovely scene that sees us out.]]> <![CDATA["Cent" Ain't Worth What It Used To...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42305 Sat, 27 Nov 2021 09:05:31 -0800 ElijahMartin]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42305 We begin with the shot of a dark, empty room the size of a small office, about twelve-foot by sixteen-foot... all that is inside this office is a spotlight shining on a steel chair opened in the middle of the room. A figure walks in from the right side of the camera shot, and it's Elijah Martin taking a seat with a black tank-top and jean shorts on. He takes about thirty seconds to gather his thoughts, before checking on a signal that the camera is rolling, and then he brings his head down to look at the ground.


I want to start off by doing something that isn't very characteristic of me... I want to apologize to Sassafras and that dumb asshole of a dog owner who clearly didn't train that little shit properly. It wasn't your fault I allowed myself to get distracted by a diminutive creature, I allowed myself to get on edge and lost my composure. But let's not get it twisted, Centurion... the dog was all just a prop, a tool for me to flex my overdue championship opportunity... just like how you sometimes enjoy flexing your daughter Nellie around to show that you've actually fucked a woman before AND successfully impregnated her, which some would have questioned in the past.


You want to run around and say that I was making a statement with a fucking puppy dog on Anarchy to get my title shot?! No sir, I already made my statement at Relentless in Chicago when I defeated two opponents to become the official Number One Contender for the championship... my statement that night had ZERO to do with me, but EVERYTHING to do with your AARP-claiming ass. I sat back for nearly two whole months, as I respectfully allowed Latina Submission Machina exercise her skills across several different shows under the XWF umbrella and even be a fighting champion for some of those matches. But when that was happening, you saw an opportunity and decided to sneak into the championship picture like the snake in the grass you have always been.


Centurion can sit and talk all he wants about his career resume and being a legend and all that jazz, but let's be real... if his resume was so amazing and he was such a reputable legend in the XWF... then why risk your mental and physical health the way he continues to in this business? Unfinished business? Jealousy? Broke from the child support he probably had to pay while being on the road during Nellie's childhood? Nah, that ain't it... Centurion is a bitter old man who just can't let the spotlight shine on anyone else not named Centurion... it's a complex formula, but the man just can't seem to let the business go, regardless of how many younger and better talents walk in the door. And on top of that, let's just keep it real: he can't light a candle to the TRUE legends of this company. Steve Jason, Lee Stone, James Raven, John Gambino, Famine of the Vile, Aidan Collins, Dynamic Dynamite, Kore, Zach Rizza, Ranma Saotome, Heather Halliwell, Big Shank, Hardcore Smitty... I could keep going on and on with names that my mentor had taught me all about before joining this illustrious company.


The fact is yes, you somehow got placed into the same Hall of Legends those great names are part of, but they knew when it was time to let it go and allow the new generation of talent to rise to the occasion in the XWF. All you have become is a bitter old man who just can't accept the idea of sitting at home and enjoying the lineage of this amazing company being carried into the next decade and beyond by names like Thaddeus Duke, Corey Smith, Jason Cashe, Alias, the Caedus brothers and so on... and quite frankly, out of ALL the legends that could still be around for me to face for the Anarchy Championship at Bad Medicine, I'm disappointed that it has to be you. I mean damn, give me someone who is actually willing to go the same lengths they used to ten years ago like Hunter Ryan or Shawn Warstein or even fucking Chris Page!


Elijah finally picks his head up and stares directly into the camera lens.


You can claim how this match is about me trying to prove I'm worth the clout you claim I've been chasing on Twitter, or that it's about how I'm in over my head because you think I preferred facing Vita or LSM in this spot... but it's quite the contrary, you senile prick. I have the opportunity to FINALLY put you in the ground and begin the slow burial of a career that went on for YEARS too long, something that I will take great honor and pride in doing, one shovel of dirt at a time. And I'm not gonna be the kind of "green" talent you think I am and try rushing everything to the point where I make a mistake you can counter into a victory. I am going to take my time, I will be meticulous and what one might call a "thinking man's wrestler," as I break your arthritic body joint by joint, limb by limb... and the best part is how no one and nothing can stop the destruction from happening. We are going to be locked inside Kennel from Hell, which you again think was a mistake on my part, but you clearly don't understand my carefully placed intentions on making that happen: keep everyone out and lock us in with no escape.


Bad Medicine isn't as much about me as you'd like to make it out to be, Centurion... this match is about you trying to maintain relevance in this iteration of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. Sunday November Twenty-Eighth will forever be notated as the beginning of the slow death of Centurion, and then someday soon after... I will also help lead the grand finale... THE BURIAL!! I'll see you in Brooklyn, and make sure Nellie has that Anarchy Championship shined up nice and pretty for me that night.]]> We begin with the shot of a dark, empty room the size of a small office, about twelve-foot by sixteen-foot... all that is inside this office is a spotlight shining on a steel chair opened in the middle of the room. A figure walks in from the right side of the camera shot, and it's Elijah Martin taking a seat with a black tank-top and jean shorts on. He takes about thirty seconds to gather his thoughts, before checking on a signal that the camera is rolling, and then he brings his head down to look at the ground.


I want to start off by doing something that isn't very characteristic of me... I want to apologize to Sassafras and that dumb asshole of a dog owner who clearly didn't train that little shit properly. It wasn't your fault I allowed myself to get distracted by a diminutive creature, I allowed myself to get on edge and lost my composure. But let's not get it twisted, Centurion... the dog was all just a prop, a tool for me to flex my overdue championship opportunity... just like how you sometimes enjoy flexing your daughter Nellie around to show that you've actually fucked a woman before AND successfully impregnated her, which some would have questioned in the past.


You want to run around and say that I was making a statement with a fucking puppy dog on Anarchy to get my title shot?! No sir, I already made my statement at Relentless in Chicago when I defeated two opponents to become the official Number One Contender for the championship... my statement that night had ZERO to do with me, but EVERYTHING to do with your AARP-claiming ass. I sat back for nearly two whole months, as I respectfully allowed Latina Submission Machina exercise her skills across several different shows under the XWF umbrella and even be a fighting champion for some of those matches. But when that was happening, you saw an opportunity and decided to sneak into the championship picture like the snake in the grass you have always been.


Centurion can sit and talk all he wants about his career resume and being a legend and all that jazz, but let's be real... if his resume was so amazing and he was such a reputable legend in the XWF... then why risk your mental and physical health the way he continues to in this business? Unfinished business? Jealousy? Broke from the child support he probably had to pay while being on the road during Nellie's childhood? Nah, that ain't it... Centurion is a bitter old man who just can't let the spotlight shine on anyone else not named Centurion... it's a complex formula, but the man just can't seem to let the business go, regardless of how many younger and better talents walk in the door. And on top of that, let's just keep it real: he can't light a candle to the TRUE legends of this company. Steve Jason, Lee Stone, James Raven, John Gambino, Famine of the Vile, Aidan Collins, Dynamic Dynamite, Kore, Zach Rizza, Ranma Saotome, Heather Halliwell, Big Shank, Hardcore Smitty... I could keep going on and on with names that my mentor had taught me all about before joining this illustrious company.


The fact is yes, you somehow got placed into the same Hall of Legends those great names are part of, but they knew when it was time to let it go and allow the new generation of talent to rise to the occasion in the XWF. All you have become is a bitter old man who just can't accept the idea of sitting at home and enjoying the lineage of this amazing company being carried into the next decade and beyond by names like Thaddeus Duke, Corey Smith, Jason Cashe, Alias, the Caedus brothers and so on... and quite frankly, out of ALL the legends that could still be around for me to face for the Anarchy Championship at Bad Medicine, I'm disappointed that it has to be you. I mean damn, give me someone who is actually willing to go the same lengths they used to ten years ago like Hunter Ryan or Shawn Warstein or even fucking Chris Page!


Elijah finally picks his head up and stares directly into the camera lens.


You can claim how this match is about me trying to prove I'm worth the clout you claim I've been chasing on Twitter, or that it's about how I'm in over my head because you think I preferred facing Vita or LSM in this spot... but it's quite the contrary, you senile prick. I have the opportunity to FINALLY put you in the ground and begin the slow burial of a career that went on for YEARS too long, something that I will take great honor and pride in doing, one shovel of dirt at a time. And I'm not gonna be the kind of "green" talent you think I am and try rushing everything to the point where I make a mistake you can counter into a victory. I am going to take my time, I will be meticulous and what one might call a "thinking man's wrestler," as I break your arthritic body joint by joint, limb by limb... and the best part is how no one and nothing can stop the destruction from happening. We are going to be locked inside Kennel from Hell, which you again think was a mistake on my part, but you clearly don't understand my carefully placed intentions on making that happen: keep everyone out and lock us in with no escape.


Bad Medicine isn't as much about me as you'd like to make it out to be, Centurion... this match is about you trying to maintain relevance in this iteration of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. Sunday November Twenty-Eighth will forever be notated as the beginning of the slow death of Centurion, and then someday soon after... I will also help lead the grand finale... THE BURIAL!! I'll see you in Brooklyn, and make sure Nellie has that Anarchy Championship shined up nice and pretty for me that night.]]> <![CDATA[Monsters Under Your Bed]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42301 Fri, 26 Nov 2021 21:03:38 -0800 Lycana]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42301

You've got no place to hide
And I'm feeling like a villain, got a hunger inside
One look in my eyes
And you're running cause I'm coming gonna eat you alive
Your heart hits like a drum
The chase has just begun


________________________________________________________________________

She didn’t know how long she floated in that snowy void.

The was no time. No feeling. Nothing.

And then the mists begin to shift once more, outlines beginning to take shape, voices breaking through the stillness. Lycana blinks, time had passed here, it seemed, for the trees now bore the blooming color of autumn on the tips of their leaves, the flowers fully spent. Before her was two horses trotting along, their hoofbeats coming at a steady cadence. The creak of leather. And the lilting laughter of the girl.

[Image: reface-2021-11-24-05-31-16.jpg]

Her eyes sparkled as she looked to the man who rode beside her, an easy smile on her face. He glances her way, his face stoic, but soft, letting his eyes roam over her. “You have a good seat, Tavya. You ride like you were born to the saddle.”

“You flatter!” she giggles lightly. “All youths are usually taught to ride at a young age, be it on a mule or a pony. Stubborn things I tell you. Much better when you are grown enough for a horse.”

“You learn before you are cast out, to work the fields here in your village?”

The happy look on Tavya’s face falters, and she turns forward, her fingers worrying the braided reins in her hand.

“I’m sorry, that was crass of me.” He reaches out and touches her arm as they rein their horses back down to a walk. “It just infuriates me, that just by a happenstance of birth, you are here, and your sister is living on high among the Lights.”

“It is the way it has always been with the twins Jonah. I have never complained about my lot in life. Perhaps it is even best this way, Betseva was always the stronger willed one, more independent. I daresay she makes a much better leader there, than I.”

“Are you happy?”

Tavya looks startled. “Happy?”

“Yes, happy. You said that you have never complained about it, but are you happy with how you live your life?”

Her mouth works, but no words come out for a few moments. “I’m... I'm not... unhappy.”

“Thats not the same. Think about it Tavya, you didn’t ask for this. You were born the Dark twin. That was the hand dealt to you, and Betseva born of the Light, to rule the South. But what is to say she is the better one? The one more suited for the job? Were there any trials, or teachings that made it so? Why is there not something that would show who would be the one more suited to leadership, instead of just you... by matter of being Dark, cast out to be Queen of a mere farming village? A paltry prize, a consolation if you ask me.”

“No, there were no contests or anything. Jonah, you must understand, it is how we were raised. It is how it has been for more years than I can count, since the generation born after the Priestess blessed the Originals after the Great Hunt.”

“But why must it stay that way my dear? Why couldn’t the North farms be one grand kingdom and the twins rule side by side? Why were you, chosen to be cast from the castle?”

“I... I have no answer for you Jonah, truly. I have never thought such things.”

“You are far too good, and kind, that is why. You are innocent, accepting things as they are, when you could be so much more. Have you never thought of it Tavya? Wondered what it would be like if it was you there, instead of her? Forgive me for overstepping, but you are like a breath of fresh air. I hate seeing you accept less than you deserve. If you were there, everything would be run much better, smoother. You have a sweet way, a fair way, about you... You deserve this far more than she does. I can help you, let me help you.”

“I just want to fix things Jonah, to help the peace remain.”

“I can assist with that as well, if you would but listen. I have what it takes to make you special, to be able to give you that edge you need to be able to handle anything and everything... Don’t you trust me by now, Queen?”

“Of course, I do. You and Wilhelm, you both are the ones I can come to with anything. I don’t know where I would be without you.”

“My beautiful Queen, then let me in, listen to me and let me show you the Gift I have to offer, one of power, one to make you strong enough to make a stand.”

“I... I will think on it Jonah.”

“It is all that I ask. Now, let us race!”

He urges his horse forward, and after a moments hesitation Tavya does the same, the wind driving her hair out behind her as they gallop out of sight, and the mist swirls back in to obscure.

Lycana returns to her milky prison, mulling over what she was starting to see. Something was afoot, and she didn’t quite know what it was. What she did know, was she didn’t like it. Not that she had any power here. She was just along for the ride of her ancestor and... whatever this was. She still didn’t know if it was the right time period, though the faces and circumstances screamed otherwise. It seemed like this guy and the Baph of this era, if it wasn’t the same damn one, she hadn't totally put that thought down yet, were manipulating Tavya into... something. She was gaining more questions than answers. Again.

Before she can think more, the fog begins to part and she settles in for more of the show.

Scenes flicker now, coming across one right after the other, the mist swirling wildly, none staying on for more than a few minutes at a time.

She watches Jonah walking arm and arm with Tavya through the vegetable gardens, Wilhelm following close behind.

She watches the trio sharing a meal, Jonah pointing at something on a piece of paper.

She watches a clandestine meeting between Jonah and Wilhelm, their heads close together, the latter looking worried.

She watches Wilhelm raise his left hand in greeting to someone.

She watches Jonah fiddle with a moonstone engraved with a palm print.

They keep going and she keeps watching. Watching the bearded man worm his way into the affections and mind of Tavya. And then the mists part, and the vision stays clear once more.

Tavya paces back and forth wringing her hands together, in the clearing beyond the village. A large shape detaches itself from the shadows in the surrounding woods, stepping into the setting sun, and hurrying to her side.

“Tavya!”

She whirls.

“Jonah! Thank you for agreeing to meet me!”

“Of course, my dear, sorry I was late... your note made it sound urgent. What's wrong?”

“Wilhelm brought news that the South, it looks like they are training, packing for a journey. It seems that they do march on us, and soon. I had thought it all wrong, that she wouldn’t... and now we are out of time. I was stupid not to listen to you, stupid not to take what you offered. Do you know of somewhere we could run?”

“Run? A Queen does not run.”

“I cannot protect them...”

“You can. All is not lost. I can still make you a warrior, I can still make you... special.”

“How, when there is so little time? Training would certainly take longer...”

“Less time than you think should you accept my gift.”

She studies him. “A gift?”

“Well, it would be a gift to you, and your people. But it would certainly give the advantage to you, when your sister comes marching in with her army.”

“I can’t believe she would do this to me...”

“I know darling, but now is not the time to weep, now is the time to embrace your power! The power that I can give you, just say the word and I will give you... a small sample.”

“Yes, if it will save my people... show me Jonah.”

Jonah nods, walking back to the trees and bending at the waist to retrieve something. He returns, bearing a skull, a crack through the top of it, lower jaw missing, streaked with things that were probably better left unnamed. He presents it to her, for her inspection. She looks it over, noting the sharp teeth, the protruding fangs. “Dog?”

“Wolf.”

“I don’t understand, how will a wolf skull help me Jonah?”

“It won’t, but this will.” he replies. With a flourish he removes a small jar from the depths of his cape. He holds it out to her and she takes it, inspecting the thick, almost gooey liquid that slid as she turned it this way and that. “What is it?”

“It is the source of what would give you power.” At her confused look, he continues. “I would rather show you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes Jonah, what...”

“Enough to put your life in my hands for a moment?”

She sucks in a deep breath, eyes going round.

“It will be painful. But it will change you into something your sister cannot stop.”

Tavya wavers.

“Again, do you trust me to save you, and your people?”

“Yes.”

Silently, he puts his hand out, and she obliges, placing her own tiny one in his massive. He turns it over, exposing her palm. He caresses it gently with a thumb, then brings the skull up and sharply slashes, the fangs ripping a long tear in her tender flesh. She cries out, trying to pull her hand back but he holds her fast. “Steady, Queen.” Tavya subsides, staring at the blood that wells up. Jonah releases her, then takes the jar and opens it. He pours the syrupy contents directly into the wound. He rubs it in, then steps back. She stares at him as he watches her.

Nothing happens.

For long minutes they stand in silence.

“Jonah, I don’t...”

Then she gasps, clutching at her stomach. “What...” she moans out, doubling over. With a whimper she drops to her knees, her body jerking. She wails, head thrown back, veins standing out sharply in her neck. She curls into a ball, shaking violently as she rolls about, in intense agony. Her screeches fill the air around them, bouncing back off the trees until it seemed like there was an entire group of screaming women.

Jonah watches impassively.

A cracking noise rents the air, an attack of pops and clicks. Her flesh tears, her nails growing long as they dig into the dirt in a desperate plea for the pain to stop.

And then there is silence.

And then, in her place, stands a silver wolf.

The wolf spins in place, stumbling slightly, learning her paws. Jonah steps forward.

“Embrace it.”

He motions with his arm and the wolf runs, circling the clearing in a blur, leaping a fallen log, speeding around, tail raised with joy. He lets her go on for quite some time, exploring, learning, feeling. Then he calls her back, and she returns, just like an obedient pup. He holds up a feminine robe, that he had retrieved from seemingly nowhere, putting his hand on her head for a moment, and within a second, a trembling Tavya stood once more. He carefully keeps his eyes skyward, as he bundles her up in the fabric, pulling her trembling body to him. “Easy now...”

“That was...”

“I know. You felt the power. You were not an ordinary wolf my dear, you were special. Rare. One of a kind even. You are a weapon in yourself, strong, unstoppable. And all this can be yours for good, my gift to you.”

“How did you do that?”

“It is better not to ask questions, just to take and say thank you... if you accept. Because with great power, always comes a price Tavya. You would need my help, you and your people, and in return I would ask for you... to do me favors as I needed. If you say yes, I will supply you and yours with this power, for so long as you complied. I could help keep your people safe as long as you belonged to me. I will train you as fighters as well. Nobody would dare lift a finger against you.”

“.... belonged to you, favors... I... Jonah...”

“A wrong word used... More so, helping me when I need it. Like I am helping you. You would need me to help control the power. Didn’t it feel good Tavya? Think about it. Talk to your people. We can even dose them so they can each decide for themself if they wanted to participate, if you didn’t want to give an order. And you could always say no...”

A few seconds pass. She looks into the distance.

“Yes Jonah, thank you. I think it would be silly of me not to accept what you are offering. Though I do not see how that will help in the war...”

“It will be revealed in time, but for now, let us start training your people to fight. We’ve not much time, as you said.”

He graciously starts to help her to the village, but not before Lycana sees him pocket the dagger he had held hidden in his hand.

Swirl goes the mists.

Lycana knew very well what Tavya had just felt. And was getting an uncomfortable idea of what the girl had just agreed to and what was coming. The girl had tasted power she had never experienced before, it was a heady thing. And Jonah had her wrapped around his finger, between the two, the poor soul didn’t stand much of a chance. Nevermind when you added in Wilhelm. Why did she have to be so damn trusting? If Ly didn’t know any better, she would have questioned if this really was her bloodline.

They clear yet again.

To two armies, facing off from one another.

”We do not have to do this Tavya!”

The golden haired one yelled across the battlefield.

“You marched on me, Betseva!”

The dark one bellowed back.

“Be careful my Queen, she will try to draw you into back and forth, all to play mind games.” Wilhelm whispers in her ear.

“She won’t change my mind. She will rue the day she tried to destroy my people! Just because we are different!” Tavya paces up and down the line, eyes trailing over the villagers, all standing at the ready. She spins around and returns to the middle, where Jonah stands tall, holding her bow and helmet, which he offers to her. “Are you ready to take what is yours?”

“I am ready to end this threat to my people once and for all.” She takes the helmet and settles it on her head. “There will be blood this day.”

[Image: reface-2021-11-26-11-37-36.jpg]

“The blood of the Lights.” Jonah tells her. “THE BLOOD OF THE LIGHTS!” He repeats it, the surrounding people taking up the cry.

“You can stop this! Just surrender!”

Tavya turns, standing firm again the glare of her sister, defiantly raising her fist to the sky.

And then she drops it.

Her army leaps forward as one, charging across the empty space. Betseva does the same, and within seconds, the air fills with the clang of metal on metal, and screams of pain.

The battle rages, Tavya’s ragtag army of farmers holding their own the best they could against the better trained fighters brought by Betseva. Neither side would give an inch, and bodies started to litter the ground slowly, the delicate green blades of grass splashed with crimson as the blood began to flow freely from both sides. Betseva herself danced through the battlefield, a glittering beacon, gilded with her golden mail, her sword swinging. Tavya, her own armor she was clad in a dull silver, made no less impressive a show, less skill, but more determination as she cut down whoever stepped before her. Wilhelm tended the wounded, darting around staying as far away from the fray as he could so that he wouldn’t get harmed himself

And Jonah.

Jonah lurked among the sidelines, fading in and out among the trees, his eyes ever watchful of the goings on. A quick grin would flicker across his face here and there, fading to his normal, stoic expression. A lone Light, pushed back into the area by a skirmish, dispatches the Dark she had been fighting with, turns to spy him. She raises her weapon, letting out a yell as she charges. Jonah dodges the swing with ease, grabbing the girl around the back of the neck, following through with the swing of his arm to smash her face against the trunk of a tree. Her hand releases the blade as she hits the ground, but Jonah is there, putting his hands upon her head and giving a swift wrench, cleanly breaking her neck. He rises, and without a second glance at her corpse, continues to watch Tavya.

The tide inevitably begins to turn, the real warriors starting to overpower the ones hastily trained, resolve and will power only able to sustain them so long.

Tavya fights her way towards a young girl of her village, trying to reach her in time as she battled two at once. She lets loose an arrow, spearing one clear through the neck. But she is too late, a blade appearing through the girl's spine as the Light severs her with a sword, moments before the arrow slams into his eye socket, sending him flying backwards. Tavya drops to her knees, ripping her helmet off as she checks in vain for a pulse. Tears springing to her eyes as she looks around, at her people trying so hard.

“Look at what she is doing to your people.”

A movement, and he is crouched by her side. “She cares nothing for you or yours. She never did. She just wanted you gone.”

A ragged breath from Tavya.

“Take the gift Tavya. Take what is yours. Show her. Defeat her.”

A nod.

“Do as we spoke of.

Raise your left hand.

And pledge yourself to me.”

Tavya rises, her gaze finding and focusing on Betseva. Their eyes lock across the field. Never looking away, Tavya obeys.

She raises her left hand.

Under Betseva’s startled stare, she changes, a silver wolf again standing where the woman once was, the warped pieces of armor falling away. The golden sister gapes, as the silver wolf growls, muscles trembling with anticipation. Jonah lowers himself onto his haunches, his voice low, hypnotizing to her ears. “You have felt the power Tavya...”

All around them, the Darks begin to change, wolves appearing in their place.

“... now taste it.”

She launches forward, her paws thundering on the ground as Betseva recovers from her shock, dropping into a defensive position. She swings with her sword as Tavya gets close, but the nimble animal is too quick, darting to the side. She feints in, pretending that she was going for her thigh, making her sister swing once more, the other way. Her sword meets nothing but air.

Screeches of pain rent the air as the pack of wolves start tearing through humans. The ones that stayed. Some simply dropped their weapons and ran for their lives.

Betseva fights on, and the wolf continues to dodge, watching. Waiting. Judging. Until the swing that throws the beautiful Light Queen off balance.

And then she leaps.

Her jaws snap shut on her sisters throat, teeth sinking deeply in as they both crash to the ground, a gurgling cry coming from Betseva. Blood spurts, the jugular punctured by sharp canine fangs. Tavya releases, and morphs back into herself, kneeling naked by her twins jerking form. “I’m sorry Betseva.” She reaches out to stroke the long, molten gold hair. “It had to be this way.” The words are tender, but the tenor of her voice was cold, emotionless. “You brought this upon yourself and the rest of the Lights. You all must suffer the punishments bestowed.” She lays her fingers on Betseva’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet as the light fades from them, both sets.

The spark of life in Betseva’s.

The humanity in Tavya’s.

“You had to die.”

With a choking noise, blood begins to stream from Betseva’s lips. The pulsing spurt of it beginning to slow from the wound in her neck, slowing to a trickle as her heart beats its last under the unfeeling eyes of her own twin.

A soft footstep behind her.

“You did well. You impress. Mere mortals will tremble as tales sweep the land. You are more Tavya, under my hand you have become special. Now rise...”

A soft item drapes over her. A cape, made from wolf pelts, complete with head still attached as a hood. She rises, ever obedient, still looking down at the still form of her sister, the frame of Jonah looming up behind her, Wilhelm, hovering beyond him. The pack begins to howl.

“Wolf of the Left Hand.”

A denial noise in Lycana’s throat, and almost as if she heard, Tavya’s eyes turn her way, the wreckage of the battle all around her, and that was the last she saw before she was swallowed up by the snowy white once more.

[Image: reface-2021-10-07-07-40-10.jpg]

She didn’t know how long she floated with nothing happening, until the empty world begins to shake. She jerks, being bounced around like a marble in a jar. It subsides, and she blinks, rattled. The it starts up again, and she begins to feel a strange pull towards a dark void. She tries to spin, to fight it, but it is no use. She goes hurtling along, a swirling vortex of colors and shapes whipping by her eyes like a runaway carnival ride, making her feel ill until she lurches to a stop in blackness. She forces her eyes open to see a blurry face hovering over her. She blinks, confused, until her vision clears enough for her to see.

Marf.

He had come to her. She wanted to smile, but she felt his rage.

“Marf.... what...”

Her head spins once more, and she feels the blackness creeping on the edges over her mind. Gritting her teeth, she wills it away, forcing control over herself as she carefully moves her limbs, relieved to find that they are sluggish, but relatively willing to respond to her.

“Stupid…you are so goddamn stupid! Why would you do this to yourself Ly!? Fuck sakes!”

He stands, keeping his hands on her and assisting her to her feet before letting her go, his hands hovering inches away as she wobbles dangerously. He gets ahold of her again, as she goes to take a step and nearly eats dirt. “I can... walk... on my... own.”

“Sure you can. Just shut up for a few minutes so we can get the fuck out of here.”

She goes to take another obstinate step forward, but he merely plucks her up as if she was as substantial as a hummingbird, and exits the cabin, still carrying her. She opens her mouth to complain, but as she looks up into his face she snaps her mouth shut. He was beyond angry, and now was not the time for her independent streak to show up. She subsides, peeking up at his stormy expression as his heavy footfalls announce just how pissed he was. She could feel it, the heat radiating off his body, the tremor of a muscle here and there, the rage monster was alive and well. The rocking motion though, set a soothing tone and pure exhaustion claims her, as she passes out in his arms.

________________________________________________________________________



“Oh Alias, you are quite adorable when you get all uppity.

But you are damn dense.

Watching you is sort of like watching a chicken with its head cut off, and I should know. And just like then, I was the fucking executioner who caused it.

It seems we may have crossed some wires here, and you really just are as disappointing as the rest when it comes to this play with words. Round and round and round you go, where you stop... is inevitably on how you have the Universe and that makes you different.

Yeah. I know. I’ve been saying it too.

See, it wasn’t my words that you were twisting, merely your own. I don’t have a problem with that. At all actually. Where the issue comes in Alias, is when you are directly contradicting yourself. Saying something completely opposite of what you told others, simply because it is me and it fits your narrative better. That my darling, is where I take umbrage. Wouldn’t anybody? There is I suppose, some merit in gaining knowledge over time, and changing one's opinion. That is a whole different animal right now, gaining new knowledge that changes your mind.

But that was not the case here, was it?

No Alias, you went along the last few months telling people that it took killing you to stop you, to take you down. That your death was the only way that anybody ever got one over on you. Your only defeat because you were set on fire, and burned alive until you were a pile of ash, dust, blown gently away to become one with the moon; yeah I believe we were there as well. Your murder, laid at my door, warning all who decided they want a taste of you just what it would take if they wanted to achieve the same.

No others were as willing to do anything.

Until you stepped in front of me.

Because now, your tune has changed. Now you are saying that I didn’t kill you at all. What is the only thing that has changed?

It's me you're saying it to.

That right there my dear, is a whole load of bullshit. You know you are doing it to try and what? Downplay me or what I did while saying that you aren’t? Pretend now that you didn’t actually die, you just conveniently died when you wanted to warn people it was the only way by you? And now that the murderer has returned for judgement, you decide that it’s time to flip flop your plea because there's some weird sense of “I’ll Show You, You Didn’t Hurt Me!” now that you are face to face with me?

You wanna be blasé?

It happened.

I hurt you.

I fucking killed you. Just like you told everybody else.

Despite what you say to me.

Don’t try and change it now Alias. It's not even my words that you are trying to twist here, but your own. And you aren't even doing a very good job of it. This whole thing is like a little kid coloring a duck purple, and then trying to argue that it was green instead. Fuck, I don’t even know why you are trying to. It is all right there, out your own mouth.

One thing I have noticed with you, is that as we go back and forth, having the pleasure now of doing double what we did before, is that it is somewhat like riding on a merry go round. You and I we came all bright eyed, seeking out the perfect pony on which to sit before the lever was pulled and we started this ride. And then you keep urging it to go faster and faster, trying your damndest to make me dizzy and lose my lunch. Perhaps go flying off my horse entirely and crash land somewhere.

Problem for you though Alias, is that I love me a carnival.

I live for this.

You act like I’m supposed to come in here like everybody else and be frightened of you. I’m not. I’m truly not. This is what I do. You fight. I fight too. I don’t care who it is or what they have done, when I step into that ring, I am there to give it my everything. I love what I do, that is why I am here. You can keep wasting your breath trying to warn me away each time, keeping taking us up on this tilt-a-whirl thinking you will shake me to my core. I’m just gonna hang on and smile at you.

Because it is fun.

I guess it would be a shame to continue on around our little amusement park without another hop on that rollercoaster you love. That was sarcasm, I’m just being a bitch. Sure, it goes forward until the end of the ride, which can be the start, but why do you immediately assume that means you start over? It only means that if you stay on the same damn ride. I guess that means when your rollercoaster stopped, you didn’t go forward and... oh wait.

Just like you have said approximately four thousand times, you jumped onto another ride.

A starting part to your next chapter.

How is it, that someone who is so into symbolism and the like, that such an obvious point would miss you, especially when it pertains to something you’ve been singing like an insane parrot on crack throughout this whole deal?

Oh right. It doesn’t fit your narrative right now.

Feel free to use it as an example, you know... for whoever you pick yourself up to face after we have our little party.

After the fate of the Universe is decided.

We’ve heard all about what you are going to do, and I would assume you're growing bored of repeating that over and over... right? Maybe you think I’m ignoring you because I’m not bringing it up every which way though I already have. Maybe you think that I don’t believe that I am some sort of human talisman for you, that shows up whenever something is about to happen to you. I do, it's pretty hard to deny for anyone with eyes. Can't say I understand it, but then again... I don’t understand half of what's going on in my own life at any given day when it comes to anything outside the ring. Do I think that me being around always makes you better? No. You chased your tail coming after us quite a bit in the beginning before you found your way, so nothing can say that this would be any different, dependent on what path you end up thrown down.

And there's that word again.

Different.

We view things in a much different light that I had thought, that much is for sure.

So, what would I do?

The short version is, I don’t know.

I just kind of let the world take me where it will Alias, and I suppose the Universe would be no different. Kind of like I let it from the start. I put my trust in it to point me in the right direction. To nudge me where I need to be looking to take that next step. And for me, that next step doesn’t have to be massive or make sense. I just have to take it, whatever it is, like a puzzle being pieced together. Sometimes, you just don’t see that full picture until the very last one snaps into place.

Pieces fall into place in ways we will never understand sometimes, until that final click.

For as much as I am a large part of yours, you have played a role in mine. I guess I can’t claim that you have been the turning point for me, in the ways you can, and I’m not sure if I should say I'm sorry for that or not, but you did mold me into who I am today, at least in part. Your hands were on me as I took shape, and will be within the future as well.

You see this as another way to step on me and see what you can take from going even higher.

I will just allow myself to become what I will. Given how much I’ve changed from a year ago, I would guess most would say for the better, I can only assume that I would stay moving in that direction. I don’t know Alias, and I refuse to pretend I do. I just know what I want, what I wish to do, and if it feels right, I do it. I’m not typically one to make spur of the moment choices unless I have to. Rest assured despite what you seem to think, and my reasonings behind it, I thought long and hard about facing you again being the right path to get there. All things point to me having made the right choice so far.

But life works in funny ways.

Not our little tee hee haha ways that we’ve been going back and forth with, but funny all the same.

You call me defensive for explaining the way I view things...

As you go on that massive tirade about things I supposedly don’t understand about you... and your view on them.

Are you seeing the crazy behind this all?

But I guess with all the questions we are tossing back and forth, hypothetical or actually meant, we are about to be chattering on and on about the same crap huh?

Let us take, for example, your inconsistent one, and why as a liar, you would care if I called you one, or caught you in one. You wouldn’t. That was my point. You said you were inconsistent, which would imply a set of principles to be varying with. I don’t think you did have any to do so. End point.

If you didn’t want me to explain about things Alias, you should probably stop adding in the contradictions within your sentences. You say you believe me that this has never been about belts for me, and fuck, I would almost say thank you, that still makes the number one I can count on one hand, except... I guess the part where you said you gave a little poke. “Though your constant attempts at becoming the tippy top of the Best Friends Division, whether with Marf or Betsy, kind of suggests something else is afoot.”

That screams doubt to me Alias, but hey... if you didn’t want a lecture, you should probably have just let it lie, hmm? When I take my little shots at you, I fully expect you to come back with some form of explanation, and the thing is Alias... If it was a plausible one, I would accept that I was wrong. You don’t seem to want to do that with anything other than that you approached Leap of Faith wrong. I don’t think anybody has ever said differently. I know I haven’t. I mentioned your blinders plenty of times. I’m not even sure why you brought that up like it was some big revelation that you had been denying. I guess that would be your example on where I said you contradicted yourself.

Only that never happened.

Those blinders are still on you, clear as day.

I told you I was going to be honest with ya Alias, and if that means digging back and showing you where you contradicted yourself on shit that pertains directly to what you are saying to me... yep. I’ll do it. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. What, did you think that I would just sit there, and stare at the log you laid out in front of me and just pretend like it didn’t stink to high fucking heaven?

I call it like I see it.

But I will also admit any wrongdoings.

Which, I suppose in my case is using the word “literally” a whole three times while speaking to you last? Do you have something against it? Does it bring back bad memories or something? Does it trigger you to go into whatever it is that you decided to try and do? Make “literally” to you, what “fuck” is to Thunder Knuckles maybe? I don’t know. I suppose that was your take on a sense of humor, or that’s what you will say at least. Prodding the bear I think you called it. But for me, it simply comes across as desperation to try and... fuck. I don’t even know. Show me that you’re paying attention? Get under my skin? Get my attention?

Well, you got that, and a raised eyebrow to boot.

And me thinking how desperate you are to do such things.

Mission accomplished?

What is the next one you want to do? I think I said “I don’t know” quite a few times. Maybe you care to take a stabby-poo at that one? I’m sure you can do it. Maybe you can even stumble onto something that actually makes a point against what I’ve been saying rather than just saying that I’ve been using your words. Of course, I fucking have. I was talking about you and the situation, and how we each saw it. I’ve explained that one until my face is as blue as my hair, and forgive me but I just don’t think I feel like going there again, especially when it comes to pretty common damn words to describe the situation. From now on I shall endeavor to only say dispatch, assassination, cease, terminate and the like. How’s that?

It’s funny that you would leap on that as one of the ways of twisting your words, when I simply took what you said... and showed you the contradictory terms you spoke. A rebuttal if you will. Goddess fucking dammit Alias... USING the other persons words, is not twisting them, when you are showing how they said it one way somewhere, and different elsewhere. And of all things, you choose the fact that I started with Ever Forward?

Again, for at least the third time... that was a compliment you dolt!

How the fuck am I twisting your words against you, if I am telling you that more people should adhere to the notion of it?

“You started this with using my words!”

Oh, whoa is Alias, Lycana decided to start things out being nice! She took what I said and proceeded to compliment me all over the place with it, but I’m going to completely skip over that fact, and cry about it like it was something negative, because I don’t have too much else to say, and she was being a meany about some other things that I said, where I fucked up a little, but... I’m just going to pretend she was mean there too.

It's like a fucking toddler putting their hands over their eyes.

La la la la la I can’t see you!

Blinders.

And confusion.

You really coming after me for saying the number of times that the X has changed hands, and how many people it went through?

When I compared it to your record.

Making out that beating you, was the bigger accomplishment.

Which was....

…. a fucking compliment?

Again?!

Maybe you are just really bad at taking nice things sent your way. Maybe that whole thing about honesty, didn’t really lock in and you thought I was being shady somewhere in there. Maybe you are just lashing out and everything and anything you possibly can, trying to land a punch. If you want to pitch some kind of fit and tear your own self down by trying to prove my words, that are meant to be kind, down... by all means. That is certainly no skin off my back. Just confuses me. You didn’t see me taking any of your pleasantries and trying to make you out to be the bad guy. I made you better. I helped you. I beat you. And so on. Yup, yup, and yup. Sure did, to all of the above. Things that you said around such things? Sure. I will take opportunities that come my way if I see them, if they don’t match up with other things to me.

Perhaps I would have stayed nicer if I didn’t have to explain things for you a hundred times over.

Don’t get me wrong Alias, I am more irked by the knowledge that you are seeing things where there isn't anything and attacking well-meaning words than anything. I just didn’t expect to have to deal with what amounts to a two year old asking why after every single response until I wanted to rip my hair out and stab my ears with that fork of yours. I had expected a little bit more from you by way of understanding. I suppose that was my bad.

What you seem to be glossing over, time after time, is the fact that I told you that I see you.

You insist on explaining that one to me each time, as if I have been denying it or arguing the point, trying to spin it when it doesn’t even need to be spun. You keep trying to pound me with the fact that you hold the Universe and you care about it. That you are a fighter and you always have been, that that is what you plan to do when we step into the ring together, as you do with everything. You live, to fight, no matter what.

I told you that I knew.

I told you that I saw you.

Now let me tell you that I want you to.

That I never expected anything less.

Haven't you realized that yet? That I want that from you? I am coming into this looking for the fight. I am looking at you to be your best. If I thought you would ever give up, I wouldn’t have come to you. I know what you are, I know what you do, and I know very well what is stretching out before me... probably even better than you do.

It just wasn’t enough to stop me from doing what I need to.

Not enough to send me cowering away, tail tucked at the thought of facing you.

I’m not scared of what you can do to me Alias.

I’m not scared of playing in your Universe.

I’m excited to.

You and me.

No matter where it takes us.”

________________________________________________________________________

One misstep, you're mine
And you better stay clever if you wanna survive
Once you cross the line
You'll be wishing you would listen when you meet your demise



]]>

You've got no place to hide
And I'm feeling like a villain, got a hunger inside
One look in my eyes
And you're running cause I'm coming gonna eat you alive
Your heart hits like a drum
The chase has just begun


________________________________________________________________________

She didn’t know how long she floated in that snowy void.

The was no time. No feeling. Nothing.

And then the mists begin to shift once more, outlines beginning to take shape, voices breaking through the stillness. Lycana blinks, time had passed here, it seemed, for the trees now bore the blooming color of autumn on the tips of their leaves, the flowers fully spent. Before her was two horses trotting along, their hoofbeats coming at a steady cadence. The creak of leather. And the lilting laughter of the girl.

[Image: reface-2021-11-24-05-31-16.jpg]

Her eyes sparkled as she looked to the man who rode beside her, an easy smile on her face. He glances her way, his face stoic, but soft, letting his eyes roam over her. “You have a good seat, Tavya. You ride like you were born to the saddle.”

“You flatter!” she giggles lightly. “All youths are usually taught to ride at a young age, be it on a mule or a pony. Stubborn things I tell you. Much better when you are grown enough for a horse.”

“You learn before you are cast out, to work the fields here in your village?”

The happy look on Tavya’s face falters, and she turns forward, her fingers worrying the braided reins in her hand.

“I’m sorry, that was crass of me.” He reaches out and touches her arm as they rein their horses back down to a walk. “It just infuriates me, that just by a happenstance of birth, you are here, and your sister is living on high among the Lights.”

“It is the way it has always been with the twins Jonah. I have never complained about my lot in life. Perhaps it is even best this way, Betseva was always the stronger willed one, more independent. I daresay she makes a much better leader there, than I.”

“Are you happy?”

Tavya looks startled. “Happy?”

“Yes, happy. You said that you have never complained about it, but are you happy with how you live your life?”

Her mouth works, but no words come out for a few moments. “I’m... I'm not... unhappy.”

“Thats not the same. Think about it Tavya, you didn’t ask for this. You were born the Dark twin. That was the hand dealt to you, and Betseva born of the Light, to rule the South. But what is to say she is the better one? The one more suited for the job? Were there any trials, or teachings that made it so? Why is there not something that would show who would be the one more suited to leadership, instead of just you... by matter of being Dark, cast out to be Queen of a mere farming village? A paltry prize, a consolation if you ask me.”

“No, there were no contests or anything. Jonah, you must understand, it is how we were raised. It is how it has been for more years than I can count, since the generation born after the Priestess blessed the Originals after the Great Hunt.”

“But why must it stay that way my dear? Why couldn’t the North farms be one grand kingdom and the twins rule side by side? Why were you, chosen to be cast from the castle?”

“I... I have no answer for you Jonah, truly. I have never thought such things.”

“You are far too good, and kind, that is why. You are innocent, accepting things as they are, when you could be so much more. Have you never thought of it Tavya? Wondered what it would be like if it was you there, instead of her? Forgive me for overstepping, but you are like a breath of fresh air. I hate seeing you accept less than you deserve. If you were there, everything would be run much better, smoother. You have a sweet way, a fair way, about you... You deserve this far more than she does. I can help you, let me help you.”

“I just want to fix things Jonah, to help the peace remain.”

“I can assist with that as well, if you would but listen. I have what it takes to make you special, to be able to give you that edge you need to be able to handle anything and everything... Don’t you trust me by now, Queen?”

“Of course, I do. You and Wilhelm, you both are the ones I can come to with anything. I don’t know where I would be without you.”

“My beautiful Queen, then let me in, listen to me and let me show you the Gift I have to offer, one of power, one to make you strong enough to make a stand.”

“I... I will think on it Jonah.”

“It is all that I ask. Now, let us race!”

He urges his horse forward, and after a moments hesitation Tavya does the same, the wind driving her hair out behind her as they gallop out of sight, and the mist swirls back in to obscure.

Lycana returns to her milky prison, mulling over what she was starting to see. Something was afoot, and she didn’t quite know what it was. What she did know, was she didn’t like it. Not that she had any power here. She was just along for the ride of her ancestor and... whatever this was. She still didn’t know if it was the right time period, though the faces and circumstances screamed otherwise. It seemed like this guy and the Baph of this era, if it wasn’t the same damn one, she hadn't totally put that thought down yet, were manipulating Tavya into... something. She was gaining more questions than answers. Again.

Before she can think more, the fog begins to part and she settles in for more of the show.

Scenes flicker now, coming across one right after the other, the mist swirling wildly, none staying on for more than a few minutes at a time.

She watches Jonah walking arm and arm with Tavya through the vegetable gardens, Wilhelm following close behind.

She watches the trio sharing a meal, Jonah pointing at something on a piece of paper.

She watches a clandestine meeting between Jonah and Wilhelm, their heads close together, the latter looking worried.

She watches Wilhelm raise his left hand in greeting to someone.

She watches Jonah fiddle with a moonstone engraved with a palm print.

They keep going and she keeps watching. Watching the bearded man worm his way into the affections and mind of Tavya. And then the mists part, and the vision stays clear once more.

Tavya paces back and forth wringing her hands together, in the clearing beyond the village. A large shape detaches itself from the shadows in the surrounding woods, stepping into the setting sun, and hurrying to her side.

“Tavya!”

She whirls.

“Jonah! Thank you for agreeing to meet me!”

“Of course, my dear, sorry I was late... your note made it sound urgent. What's wrong?”

“Wilhelm brought news that the South, it looks like they are training, packing for a journey. It seems that they do march on us, and soon. I had thought it all wrong, that she wouldn’t... and now we are out of time. I was stupid not to listen to you, stupid not to take what you offered. Do you know of somewhere we could run?”

“Run? A Queen does not run.”

“I cannot protect them...”

“You can. All is not lost. I can still make you a warrior, I can still make you... special.”

“How, when there is so little time? Training would certainly take longer...”

“Less time than you think should you accept my gift.”

She studies him. “A gift?”

“Well, it would be a gift to you, and your people. But it would certainly give the advantage to you, when your sister comes marching in with her army.”

“I can’t believe she would do this to me...”

“I know darling, but now is not the time to weep, now is the time to embrace your power! The power that I can give you, just say the word and I will give you... a small sample.”

“Yes, if it will save my people... show me Jonah.”

Jonah nods, walking back to the trees and bending at the waist to retrieve something. He returns, bearing a skull, a crack through the top of it, lower jaw missing, streaked with things that were probably better left unnamed. He presents it to her, for her inspection. She looks it over, noting the sharp teeth, the protruding fangs. “Dog?”

“Wolf.”

“I don’t understand, how will a wolf skull help me Jonah?”

“It won’t, but this will.” he replies. With a flourish he removes a small jar from the depths of his cape. He holds it out to her and she takes it, inspecting the thick, almost gooey liquid that slid as she turned it this way and that. “What is it?”

“It is the source of what would give you power.” At her confused look, he continues. “I would rather show you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes Jonah, what...”

“Enough to put your life in my hands for a moment?”

She sucks in a deep breath, eyes going round.

“It will be painful. But it will change you into something your sister cannot stop.”

Tavya wavers.

“Again, do you trust me to save you, and your people?”

“Yes.”

Silently, he puts his hand out, and she obliges, placing her own tiny one in his massive. He turns it over, exposing her palm. He caresses it gently with a thumb, then brings the skull up and sharply slashes, the fangs ripping a long tear in her tender flesh. She cries out, trying to pull her hand back but he holds her fast. “Steady, Queen.” Tavya subsides, staring at the blood that wells up. Jonah releases her, then takes the jar and opens it. He pours the syrupy contents directly into the wound. He rubs it in, then steps back. She stares at him as he watches her.

Nothing happens.

For long minutes they stand in silence.

“Jonah, I don’t...”

Then she gasps, clutching at her stomach. “What...” she moans out, doubling over. With a whimper she drops to her knees, her body jerking. She wails, head thrown back, veins standing out sharply in her neck. She curls into a ball, shaking violently as she rolls about, in intense agony. Her screeches fill the air around them, bouncing back off the trees until it seemed like there was an entire group of screaming women.

Jonah watches impassively.

A cracking noise rents the air, an attack of pops and clicks. Her flesh tears, her nails growing long as they dig into the dirt in a desperate plea for the pain to stop.

And then there is silence.

And then, in her place, stands a silver wolf.

The wolf spins in place, stumbling slightly, learning her paws. Jonah steps forward.

“Embrace it.”

He motions with his arm and the wolf runs, circling the clearing in a blur, leaping a fallen log, speeding around, tail raised with joy. He lets her go on for quite some time, exploring, learning, feeling. Then he calls her back, and she returns, just like an obedient pup. He holds up a feminine robe, that he had retrieved from seemingly nowhere, putting his hand on her head for a moment, and within a second, a trembling Tavya stood once more. He carefully keeps his eyes skyward, as he bundles her up in the fabric, pulling her trembling body to him. “Easy now...”

“That was...”

“I know. You felt the power. You were not an ordinary wolf my dear, you were special. Rare. One of a kind even. You are a weapon in yourself, strong, unstoppable. And all this can be yours for good, my gift to you.”

“How did you do that?”

“It is better not to ask questions, just to take and say thank you... if you accept. Because with great power, always comes a price Tavya. You would need my help, you and your people, and in return I would ask for you... to do me favors as I needed. If you say yes, I will supply you and yours with this power, for so long as you complied. I could help keep your people safe as long as you belonged to me. I will train you as fighters as well. Nobody would dare lift a finger against you.”

“.... belonged to you, favors... I... Jonah...”

“A wrong word used... More so, helping me when I need it. Like I am helping you. You would need me to help control the power. Didn’t it feel good Tavya? Think about it. Talk to your people. We can even dose them so they can each decide for themself if they wanted to participate, if you didn’t want to give an order. And you could always say no...”

A few seconds pass. She looks into the distance.

“Yes Jonah, thank you. I think it would be silly of me not to accept what you are offering. Though I do not see how that will help in the war...”

“It will be revealed in time, but for now, let us start training your people to fight. We’ve not much time, as you said.”

He graciously starts to help her to the village, but not before Lycana sees him pocket the dagger he had held hidden in his hand.

Swirl goes the mists.

Lycana knew very well what Tavya had just felt. And was getting an uncomfortable idea of what the girl had just agreed to and what was coming. The girl had tasted power she had never experienced before, it was a heady thing. And Jonah had her wrapped around his finger, between the two, the poor soul didn’t stand much of a chance. Nevermind when you added in Wilhelm. Why did she have to be so damn trusting? If Ly didn’t know any better, she would have questioned if this really was her bloodline.

They clear yet again.

To two armies, facing off from one another.

”We do not have to do this Tavya!”

The golden haired one yelled across the battlefield.

“You marched on me, Betseva!”

The dark one bellowed back.

“Be careful my Queen, she will try to draw you into back and forth, all to play mind games.” Wilhelm whispers in her ear.

“She won’t change my mind. She will rue the day she tried to destroy my people! Just because we are different!” Tavya paces up and down the line, eyes trailing over the villagers, all standing at the ready. She spins around and returns to the middle, where Jonah stands tall, holding her bow and helmet, which he offers to her. “Are you ready to take what is yours?”

“I am ready to end this threat to my people once and for all.” She takes the helmet and settles it on her head. “There will be blood this day.”

[Image: reface-2021-11-26-11-37-36.jpg]

“The blood of the Lights.” Jonah tells her. “THE BLOOD OF THE LIGHTS!” He repeats it, the surrounding people taking up the cry.

“You can stop this! Just surrender!”

Tavya turns, standing firm again the glare of her sister, defiantly raising her fist to the sky.

And then she drops it.

Her army leaps forward as one, charging across the empty space. Betseva does the same, and within seconds, the air fills with the clang of metal on metal, and screams of pain.

The battle rages, Tavya’s ragtag army of farmers holding their own the best they could against the better trained fighters brought by Betseva. Neither side would give an inch, and bodies started to litter the ground slowly, the delicate green blades of grass splashed with crimson as the blood began to flow freely from both sides. Betseva herself danced through the battlefield, a glittering beacon, gilded with her golden mail, her sword swinging. Tavya, her own armor she was clad in a dull silver, made no less impressive a show, less skill, but more determination as she cut down whoever stepped before her. Wilhelm tended the wounded, darting around staying as far away from the fray as he could so that he wouldn’t get harmed himself

And Jonah.

Jonah lurked among the sidelines, fading in and out among the trees, his eyes ever watchful of the goings on. A quick grin would flicker across his face here and there, fading to his normal, stoic expression. A lone Light, pushed back into the area by a skirmish, dispatches the Dark she had been fighting with, turns to spy him. She raises her weapon, letting out a yell as she charges. Jonah dodges the swing with ease, grabbing the girl around the back of the neck, following through with the swing of his arm to smash her face against the trunk of a tree. Her hand releases the blade as she hits the ground, but Jonah is there, putting his hands upon her head and giving a swift wrench, cleanly breaking her neck. He rises, and without a second glance at her corpse, continues to watch Tavya.

The tide inevitably begins to turn, the real warriors starting to overpower the ones hastily trained, resolve and will power only able to sustain them so long.

Tavya fights her way towards a young girl of her village, trying to reach her in time as she battled two at once. She lets loose an arrow, spearing one clear through the neck. But she is too late, a blade appearing through the girl's spine as the Light severs her with a sword, moments before the arrow slams into his eye socket, sending him flying backwards. Tavya drops to her knees, ripping her helmet off as she checks in vain for a pulse. Tears springing to her eyes as she looks around, at her people trying so hard.

“Look at what she is doing to your people.”

A movement, and he is crouched by her side. “She cares nothing for you or yours. She never did. She just wanted you gone.”

A ragged breath from Tavya.

“Take the gift Tavya. Take what is yours. Show her. Defeat her.”

A nod.

“Do as we spoke of.

Raise your left hand.

And pledge yourself to me.”

Tavya rises, her gaze finding and focusing on Betseva. Their eyes lock across the field. Never looking away, Tavya obeys.

She raises her left hand.

Under Betseva’s startled stare, she changes, a silver wolf again standing where the woman once was, the warped pieces of armor falling away. The golden sister gapes, as the silver wolf growls, muscles trembling with anticipation. Jonah lowers himself onto his haunches, his voice low, hypnotizing to her ears. “You have felt the power Tavya...”

All around them, the Darks begin to change, wolves appearing in their place.

“... now taste it.”

She launches forward, her paws thundering on the ground as Betseva recovers from her shock, dropping into a defensive position. She swings with her sword as Tavya gets close, but the nimble animal is too quick, darting to the side. She feints in, pretending that she was going for her thigh, making her sister swing once more, the other way. Her sword meets nothing but air.

Screeches of pain rent the air as the pack of wolves start tearing through humans. The ones that stayed. Some simply dropped their weapons and ran for their lives.

Betseva fights on, and the wolf continues to dodge, watching. Waiting. Judging. Until the swing that throws the beautiful Light Queen off balance.

And then she leaps.

Her jaws snap shut on her sisters throat, teeth sinking deeply in as they both crash to the ground, a gurgling cry coming from Betseva. Blood spurts, the jugular punctured by sharp canine fangs. Tavya releases, and morphs back into herself, kneeling naked by her twins jerking form. “I’m sorry Betseva.” She reaches out to stroke the long, molten gold hair. “It had to be this way.” The words are tender, but the tenor of her voice was cold, emotionless. “You brought this upon yourself and the rest of the Lights. You all must suffer the punishments bestowed.” She lays her fingers on Betseva’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet as the light fades from them, both sets.

The spark of life in Betseva’s.

The humanity in Tavya’s.

“You had to die.”

With a choking noise, blood begins to stream from Betseva’s lips. The pulsing spurt of it beginning to slow from the wound in her neck, slowing to a trickle as her heart beats its last under the unfeeling eyes of her own twin.

A soft footstep behind her.

“You did well. You impress. Mere mortals will tremble as tales sweep the land. You are more Tavya, under my hand you have become special. Now rise...”

A soft item drapes over her. A cape, made from wolf pelts, complete with head still attached as a hood. She rises, ever obedient, still looking down at the still form of her sister, the frame of Jonah looming up behind her, Wilhelm, hovering beyond him. The pack begins to howl.

“Wolf of the Left Hand.”

A denial noise in Lycana’s throat, and almost as if she heard, Tavya’s eyes turn her way, the wreckage of the battle all around her, and that was the last she saw before she was swallowed up by the snowy white once more.

[Image: reface-2021-10-07-07-40-10.jpg]

She didn’t know how long she floated with nothing happening, until the empty world begins to shake. She jerks, being bounced around like a marble in a jar. It subsides, and she blinks, rattled. The it starts up again, and she begins to feel a strange pull towards a dark void. She tries to spin, to fight it, but it is no use. She goes hurtling along, a swirling vortex of colors and shapes whipping by her eyes like a runaway carnival ride, making her feel ill until she lurches to a stop in blackness. She forces her eyes open to see a blurry face hovering over her. She blinks, confused, until her vision clears enough for her to see.

Marf.

He had come to her. She wanted to smile, but she felt his rage.

“Marf.... what...”

Her head spins once more, and she feels the blackness creeping on the edges over her mind. Gritting her teeth, she wills it away, forcing control over herself as she carefully moves her limbs, relieved to find that they are sluggish, but relatively willing to respond to her.

“Stupid…you are so goddamn stupid! Why would you do this to yourself Ly!? Fuck sakes!”

He stands, keeping his hands on her and assisting her to her feet before letting her go, his hands hovering inches away as she wobbles dangerously. He gets ahold of her again, as she goes to take a step and nearly eats dirt. “I can... walk... on my... own.”

“Sure you can. Just shut up for a few minutes so we can get the fuck out of here.”

She goes to take another obstinate step forward, but he merely plucks her up as if she was as substantial as a hummingbird, and exits the cabin, still carrying her. She opens her mouth to complain, but as she looks up into his face she snaps her mouth shut. He was beyond angry, and now was not the time for her independent streak to show up. She subsides, peeking up at his stormy expression as his heavy footfalls announce just how pissed he was. She could feel it, the heat radiating off his body, the tremor of a muscle here and there, the rage monster was alive and well. The rocking motion though, set a soothing tone and pure exhaustion claims her, as she passes out in his arms.

________________________________________________________________________



“Oh Alias, you are quite adorable when you get all uppity.

But you are damn dense.

Watching you is sort of like watching a chicken with its head cut off, and I should know. And just like then, I was the fucking executioner who caused it.

It seems we may have crossed some wires here, and you really just are as disappointing as the rest when it comes to this play with words. Round and round and round you go, where you stop... is inevitably on how you have the Universe and that makes you different.

Yeah. I know. I’ve been saying it too.

See, it wasn’t my words that you were twisting, merely your own. I don’t have a problem with that. At all actually. Where the issue comes in Alias, is when you are directly contradicting yourself. Saying something completely opposite of what you told others, simply because it is me and it fits your narrative better. That my darling, is where I take umbrage. Wouldn’t anybody? There is I suppose, some merit in gaining knowledge over time, and changing one's opinion. That is a whole different animal right now, gaining new knowledge that changes your mind.

But that was not the case here, was it?

No Alias, you went along the last few months telling people that it took killing you to stop you, to take you down. That your death was the only way that anybody ever got one over on you. Your only defeat because you were set on fire, and burned alive until you were a pile of ash, dust, blown gently away to become one with the moon; yeah I believe we were there as well. Your murder, laid at my door, warning all who decided they want a taste of you just what it would take if they wanted to achieve the same.

No others were as willing to do anything.

Until you stepped in front of me.

Because now, your tune has changed. Now you are saying that I didn’t kill you at all. What is the only thing that has changed?

It's me you're saying it to.

That right there my dear, is a whole load of bullshit. You know you are doing it to try and what? Downplay me or what I did while saying that you aren’t? Pretend now that you didn’t actually die, you just conveniently died when you wanted to warn people it was the only way by you? And now that the murderer has returned for judgement, you decide that it’s time to flip flop your plea because there's some weird sense of “I’ll Show You, You Didn’t Hurt Me!” now that you are face to face with me?

You wanna be blasé?

It happened.

I hurt you.

I fucking killed you. Just like you told everybody else.

Despite what you say to me.

Don’t try and change it now Alias. It's not even my words that you are trying to twist here, but your own. And you aren't even doing a very good job of it. This whole thing is like a little kid coloring a duck purple, and then trying to argue that it was green instead. Fuck, I don’t even know why you are trying to. It is all right there, out your own mouth.

One thing I have noticed with you, is that as we go back and forth, having the pleasure now of doing double what we did before, is that it is somewhat like riding on a merry go round. You and I we came all bright eyed, seeking out the perfect pony on which to sit before the lever was pulled and we started this ride. And then you keep urging it to go faster and faster, trying your damndest to make me dizzy and lose my lunch. Perhaps go flying off my horse entirely and crash land somewhere.

Problem for you though Alias, is that I love me a carnival.

I live for this.

You act like I’m supposed to come in here like everybody else and be frightened of you. I’m not. I’m truly not. This is what I do. You fight. I fight too. I don’t care who it is or what they have done, when I step into that ring, I am there to give it my everything. I love what I do, that is why I am here. You can keep wasting your breath trying to warn me away each time, keeping taking us up on this tilt-a-whirl thinking you will shake me to my core. I’m just gonna hang on and smile at you.

Because it is fun.

I guess it would be a shame to continue on around our little amusement park without another hop on that rollercoaster you love. That was sarcasm, I’m just being a bitch. Sure, it goes forward until the end of the ride, which can be the start, but why do you immediately assume that means you start over? It only means that if you stay on the same damn ride. I guess that means when your rollercoaster stopped, you didn’t go forward and... oh wait.

Just like you have said approximately four thousand times, you jumped onto another ride.

A starting part to your next chapter.

How is it, that someone who is so into symbolism and the like, that such an obvious point would miss you, especially when it pertains to something you’ve been singing like an insane parrot on crack throughout this whole deal?

Oh right. It doesn’t fit your narrative right now.

Feel free to use it as an example, you know... for whoever you pick yourself up to face after we have our little party.

After the fate of the Universe is decided.

We’ve heard all about what you are going to do, and I would assume you're growing bored of repeating that over and over... right? Maybe you think I’m ignoring you because I’m not bringing it up every which way though I already have. Maybe you think that I don’t believe that I am some sort of human talisman for you, that shows up whenever something is about to happen to you. I do, it's pretty hard to deny for anyone with eyes. Can't say I understand it, but then again... I don’t understand half of what's going on in my own life at any given day when it comes to anything outside the ring. Do I think that me being around always makes you better? No. You chased your tail coming after us quite a bit in the beginning before you found your way, so nothing can say that this would be any different, dependent on what path you end up thrown down.

And there's that word again.

Different.

We view things in a much different light that I had thought, that much is for sure.

So, what would I do?

The short version is, I don’t know.

I just kind of let the world take me where it will Alias, and I suppose the Universe would be no different. Kind of like I let it from the start. I put my trust in it to point me in the right direction. To nudge me where I need to be looking to take that next step. And for me, that next step doesn’t have to be massive or make sense. I just have to take it, whatever it is, like a puzzle being pieced together. Sometimes, you just don’t see that full picture until the very last one snaps into place.

Pieces fall into place in ways we will never understand sometimes, until that final click.

For as much as I am a large part of yours, you have played a role in mine. I guess I can’t claim that you have been the turning point for me, in the ways you can, and I’m not sure if I should say I'm sorry for that or not, but you did mold me into who I am today, at least in part. Your hands were on me as I took shape, and will be within the future as well.

You see this as another way to step on me and see what you can take from going even higher.

I will just allow myself to become what I will. Given how much I’ve changed from a year ago, I would guess most would say for the better, I can only assume that I would stay moving in that direction. I don’t know Alias, and I refuse to pretend I do. I just know what I want, what I wish to do, and if it feels right, I do it. I’m not typically one to make spur of the moment choices unless I have to. Rest assured despite what you seem to think, and my reasonings behind it, I thought long and hard about facing you again being the right path to get there. All things point to me having made the right choice so far.

But life works in funny ways.

Not our little tee hee haha ways that we’ve been going back and forth with, but funny all the same.

You call me defensive for explaining the way I view things...

As you go on that massive tirade about things I supposedly don’t understand about you... and your view on them.

Are you seeing the crazy behind this all?

But I guess with all the questions we are tossing back and forth, hypothetical or actually meant, we are about to be chattering on and on about the same crap huh?

Let us take, for example, your inconsistent one, and why as a liar, you would care if I called you one, or caught you in one. You wouldn’t. That was my point. You said you were inconsistent, which would imply a set of principles to be varying with. I don’t think you did have any to do so. End point.

If you didn’t want me to explain about things Alias, you should probably stop adding in the contradictions within your sentences. You say you believe me that this has never been about belts for me, and fuck, I would almost say thank you, that still makes the number one I can count on one hand, except... I guess the part where you said you gave a little poke. “Though your constant attempts at becoming the tippy top of the Best Friends Division, whether with Marf or Betsy, kind of suggests something else is afoot.”

That screams doubt to me Alias, but hey... if you didn’t want a lecture, you should probably have just let it lie, hmm? When I take my little shots at you, I fully expect you to come back with some form of explanation, and the thing is Alias... If it was a plausible one, I would accept that I was wrong. You don’t seem to want to do that with anything other than that you approached Leap of Faith wrong. I don’t think anybody has ever said differently. I know I haven’t. I mentioned your blinders plenty of times. I’m not even sure why you brought that up like it was some big revelation that you had been denying. I guess that would be your example on where I said you contradicted yourself.

Only that never happened.

Those blinders are still on you, clear as day.

I told you I was going to be honest with ya Alias, and if that means digging back and showing you where you contradicted yourself on shit that pertains directly to what you are saying to me... yep. I’ll do it. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. What, did you think that I would just sit there, and stare at the log you laid out in front of me and just pretend like it didn’t stink to high fucking heaven?

I call it like I see it.

But I will also admit any wrongdoings.

Which, I suppose in my case is using the word “literally” a whole three times while speaking to you last? Do you have something against it? Does it bring back bad memories or something? Does it trigger you to go into whatever it is that you decided to try and do? Make “literally” to you, what “fuck” is to Thunder Knuckles maybe? I don’t know. I suppose that was your take on a sense of humor, or that’s what you will say at least. Prodding the bear I think you called it. But for me, it simply comes across as desperation to try and... fuck. I don’t even know. Show me that you’re paying attention? Get under my skin? Get my attention?

Well, you got that, and a raised eyebrow to boot.

And me thinking how desperate you are to do such things.

Mission accomplished?

What is the next one you want to do? I think I said “I don’t know” quite a few times. Maybe you care to take a stabby-poo at that one? I’m sure you can do it. Maybe you can even stumble onto something that actually makes a point against what I’ve been saying rather than just saying that I’ve been using your words. Of course, I fucking have. I was talking about you and the situation, and how we each saw it. I’ve explained that one until my face is as blue as my hair, and forgive me but I just don’t think I feel like going there again, especially when it comes to pretty common damn words to describe the situation. From now on I shall endeavor to only say dispatch, assassination, cease, terminate and the like. How’s that?

It’s funny that you would leap on that as one of the ways of twisting your words, when I simply took what you said... and showed you the contradictory terms you spoke. A rebuttal if you will. Goddess fucking dammit Alias... USING the other persons words, is not twisting them, when you are showing how they said it one way somewhere, and different elsewhere. And of all things, you choose the fact that I started with Ever Forward?

Again, for at least the third time... that was a compliment you dolt!

How the fuck am I twisting your words against you, if I am telling you that more people should adhere to the notion of it?

“You started this with using my words!”

Oh, whoa is Alias, Lycana decided to start things out being nice! She took what I said and proceeded to compliment me all over the place with it, but I’m going to completely skip over that fact, and cry about it like it was something negative, because I don’t have too much else to say, and she was being a meany about some other things that I said, where I fucked up a little, but... I’m just going to pretend she was mean there too.

It's like a fucking toddler putting their hands over their eyes.

La la la la la I can’t see you!

Blinders.

And confusion.

You really coming after me for saying the number of times that the X has changed hands, and how many people it went through?

When I compared it to your record.

Making out that beating you, was the bigger accomplishment.

Which was....

…. a fucking compliment?

Again?!

Maybe you are just really bad at taking nice things sent your way. Maybe that whole thing about honesty, didn’t really lock in and you thought I was being shady somewhere in there. Maybe you are just lashing out and everything and anything you possibly can, trying to land a punch. If you want to pitch some kind of fit and tear your own self down by trying to prove my words, that are meant to be kind, down... by all means. That is certainly no skin off my back. Just confuses me. You didn’t see me taking any of your pleasantries and trying to make you out to be the bad guy. I made you better. I helped you. I beat you. And so on. Yup, yup, and yup. Sure did, to all of the above. Things that you said around such things? Sure. I will take opportunities that come my way if I see them, if they don’t match up with other things to me.

Perhaps I would have stayed nicer if I didn’t have to explain things for you a hundred times over.

Don’t get me wrong Alias, I am more irked by the knowledge that you are seeing things where there isn't anything and attacking well-meaning words than anything. I just didn’t expect to have to deal with what amounts to a two year old asking why after every single response until I wanted to rip my hair out and stab my ears with that fork of yours. I had expected a little bit more from you by way of understanding. I suppose that was my bad.

What you seem to be glossing over, time after time, is the fact that I told you that I see you.

You insist on explaining that one to me each time, as if I have been denying it or arguing the point, trying to spin it when it doesn’t even need to be spun. You keep trying to pound me with the fact that you hold the Universe and you care about it. That you are a fighter and you always have been, that that is what you plan to do when we step into the ring together, as you do with everything. You live, to fight, no matter what.

I told you that I knew.

I told you that I saw you.

Now let me tell you that I want you to.

That I never expected anything less.

Haven't you realized that yet? That I want that from you? I am coming into this looking for the fight. I am looking at you to be your best. If I thought you would ever give up, I wouldn’t have come to you. I know what you are, I know what you do, and I know very well what is stretching out before me... probably even better than you do.

It just wasn’t enough to stop me from doing what I need to.

Not enough to send me cowering away, tail tucked at the thought of facing you.

I’m not scared of what you can do to me Alias.

I’m not scared of playing in your Universe.

I’m excited to.

You and me.

No matter where it takes us.”

________________________________________________________________________

One misstep, you're mine
And you better stay clever if you wanna survive
Once you cross the line
You'll be wishing you would listen when you meet your demise



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