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<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Fire and Ice 2022 PPV RP Boards]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Wed, 17 Jun 2026 00:01:16 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[ONCE UPON A DOC IN MEXICO]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42798 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 23:59:36 -0800 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42798

Lightning flashes and a low rumble of thunder echoes across the dark plain. It was minutes before midnight in the small Villa de Lucha when a lightning strike woke everyone from a dead sleep and knocked out all of the electricity in the town. The storm only got worse in a short time, which brought the man in the green mask to rise from his bed and light a lantern. He listened to the wind blow and hail pelt his single pane windows as he hurriedly suited up and headed for the exit. When he opened the door to the outside, a gust of wind grabbed it and flung it against the side of his house.

"Mierda…"

Throwing a hood over his head he stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him. With the lantern in hand he fought through the weather across the small dirt road into a larger than his, yet singled-roomed, bungalow. He stepped inside and shook off the wetness from the rain. Slowly, he began to creep across the creaky floorboards out of the foyer and into a large open room with bunk beds lined up against the walls. He went throughout the room to several tables and began lighting small candles to create a bit of light and the small creatures in the beds began to stir even moreso. They watched as the man in the green mask slowly went to each side of the room and lit a candle. Another crash of thunder shook the house and terrorized them some more to the point they were up and about with their little hands on a panic button.

After the man in the green mask made his round through the room, he picked up a small crate and placed it in the center of the room where he placed the lantern then took a seat beside it.

"Ven mis hijos! Come! Gather around!"

Small children spring from their beds and scurry towards the old man in the green mask. They surround him, legs folded, and with all of their focus solely on him. The room now glows with an orange aura that fades in and out with the dancing of each of the tiny, yet many flames scattered throughout the room.

"¿Problemas para dormir? Storm keeping you awake?"

Some nod, others respond with a soft, tired, and terrified… "Siiiiii………."

"Tell us a story, Gran Jefe!"

One speaks out above the rest.

"¡Si! Tell us a story!"

"Alright. Alright. Cálmate…."

The man in the green mask rubs his chin and thinks out loud….

"Let's see….. Pensando…. Aha! Have I told you about….. Doc D'ablo?"

"Ohhh! Oh, no, no, no!"

The children reply with shock and awe…

"I haven't?!"

They shake their heads vigorously to and fro.

"Noooo! No, Gran Jefe! ¡Cuota, por favor!"

"¡Digas, pour favor!"

"Si! Si! I will! I will!"

Gran Jefe calms the group and leans in closer and whispers. The children all lean in as well, wrapped in blankets, watching the glow of the lantern and all of the candles light up the face of the man in the green mask as he begins his tale.

"Well… It was a dark and stormy night… JUST like this one! When Villa de Lucha had a very strange visitor…. The land was much different than you see today. Oh, yes. The mountains? Heh… It was not like you see today. We had one mountain that you could see from all stretches of Mexico!"

Gran Jefe explained to the children how the land was once one large plain, with a giant mountain that stood in the center of it all.

"It breathed smoke and fire…"

"Like a volcano?"

"Eh… Si. Like a volcano… But there was something far worse inside that mountain than fire and molten lava…"

"What was it Gran Jefe?!"

"Was it a dragon??!?!?!?!?"

"Worse! It was…. La Serpiente!"

The children all shudder. La Serpiente was known in Lucha-Lore as an iron fist that kept a tight grip over Mexico. She was by far the strongest Lucha, trained by the First Order of Luchadores, which was a secret organization that dated back to the first masked fighters to rise in Mexico during the Ancient Aztecs.

"The rain was falling hard, the thunder was booming, and the lightning lit up the sky like it was high noon! I was having a late night, myself, and closing up shop a little later than usual."

Gran Jefe is seen in his little shop, stocking boxes of cigarettes behind the counter when he hears a noise near the back of the shop. He quickly turns around and watches the aisles.

It's a dainty little shop that's been his for close to fifty years now. A basic place of convenience, for basic needs, in a basic town.

"Hola."

He says sternly in a low voice that growls through the dead silence. Little footsteps can be heard scampering across the floor. Gran Jefe smiles and chuckles to himself.

"You know it's closing time, don't you? Isn't it a little late for you to be here???"

There's no response. After hearing the tiny steps taken in the darkness he immediately thought one of the young ones were out for a much against the rules late night snack.

"Hoooooolaaaaaaaaaaa?"

He squeaks out as high pitched as he can through his raspy, deep growl. There's more little footsteps and then the beer cooler quickly opens a crack then closes.

"Alright! Hold up a second!"

Gran Jefe's demeanor quickly changed as he is a gentle man of no fuckery. He storms around the counter and straight to the back of the store and stops dead in his tracks when he cannot believe what he sees.

"What the hell?!"

The Jenny Myst Doll possessed by Unknown Soldier stands to height next to a 40 oz. bottle labeled "BEER" and wrestles with the cap to get it off. It looks up to Gran Jefe, out of breath, and motions towards the bottle and says in a high pitched voice.

"A little fucking help, pendejo?"

Gran Jefe came strapped! He pulls a pistol from the back of his pants and points it at the doll!

"What the fuck is this?"

The doll throws his hands up and steps away from the 40.

"Chill the fuck out, Ricky Ricardo! I'm good for it!"

Gran Jefe doesn't know what to do, but also doesn't take his aim away from the doll. A cold, stiff wind crosses him and forces a shiver out of him when he notices someone at the front of the store out of the corner of his eye. He switches aim to the newcomer; an old man leaning back against the counter with a burning cigar at his lips.

Hello, my friend.

The old man speaks loud and clear.

No need for that. Anything my little protege indulges in will be compensated for. Have no worries regarding that.

"Who are you?! How did you get in here?!"

The old man smiles and looks back to the door then back to Gran Jefe.

Why, through the door, sir! Oh, did you want it locked again? Allow me.

The old man winks and the bolt in the door quickly and loudly latches back to its locked position where Gran Jefe knew he left it.

"What is this shit? Who are you?"

He keeps the pistol aimed at the old man and remains solid and as stern as ever. It wasn't his first break-in or robbery. It's not his tenth, either, and he's handled himself for a long time. He wasn't going to let some little monster and an old man take him down… If that was even what was going on.

My name is Doctor Louis D'Ville. And I'm here to become a Lucha Libre.

Gran Jefe squinted and looked down at the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier. The doll had Twinkie filling all over its face and finally had the bottle of beer cracked. It and Gran Jefe shared a stare as it gnawed on the snack that was half its size.

"What?"

Confused, Gran Jefe lowered the gun and needed some serious clarification from Doc.

I'm here to become a Luchadore!

Doc said a bit louder.

"I heard you the first time, senor… But it's not very often someone shows up in the middle of the night asking about Lucha… What really brings you here, stranger?"

Well, first, let's get out of your way and allow you to properly close up shop. My apologies for the intrusion, but sometimes my friend and I have different ways of getting one's attention.

"We were walking in the desert for four FUCKING days, DAWK! My corpse is buried somewhere starving to death and dying of thirst!"

Doc smiled and motioned for Gran Jefe to go about his business. He took a double-take towards the doll on the floor and headed back to the counter to grab his things and head straight out. He'd finish stocking up tomorrow.

The two of them leave with the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier following closely behind dragging an opened bag of tortilla chips behind it.

"It was a doll, Gran Jefe?!"

"It was very complicated, is what it was. But yes, it was a doll."

"What kind of a doll? Like a Barbie doll??"

"Well… Yes… But a Barbie doll that was rotting away…. Like it came out of the garbage after a long, long time."

"Ewwwww…."

"That doesn't matter, mis hijos…. Whatever this thing was… It wasn't just a doll… ¿Comprender? Anyway… We left the store and the rain wasn't letting up for anything. We ran back to my bungalow where I could talk to this man and find out why he came to Villa de Lucha…"

Gran Jefe welcomed Doc and the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier into his home and sat them around the small dinner table. He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tequila, three glasses, and set them all down on the table. The doll walked across the table and over to the bottle and pressed its face against it then looked up to Doc.

"This is some good shit. Let's get fucked up."

Gran Jefe grabs the bottle from in front of the doll and pours a shot into three glasses, picks one up, then sits down at the head of the little table. The doll buries its head in the glass and slurps it up in an instant.

"So, you'll answer my questions now, stranger? What brings you to Villa de Lucha?"

Doc grabs the remaining glass and takes half a sip from it and sets it back down.

I've told you already.

Gran Jefe laughs.

"Yes, yes… You've said it already, but, like I said…. No one just shows up in the middle of the night asking about Lucha… Now, I'll ask you again…."

Several men enter the bungalow through the only door and stand in the kitchen among them. Two wearing masks and three other young men without.

"What brings you here, stranger?"

Doc looks to the five men standing before him and back to Gran Jefe at the head of the table.

"He. Wants. To. Learn. Your. Shitty. Lucha!!! I know there's a fucking language barrier, but are you fuckers deaf?"

Sit.

Doc twitches and the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier flies across the room, hits the wall, and lands on the floor. The five men take a step back and second guess their position.

Gentlemen, there's no reason to be alarmed… My friend here is right, though. I'm simply here to learn your way.

"I'm gonna kill you someday…"

The doll says to itself as it cracks its plastic little spine and climbs back up on the table. Doc takes his last sip from the glass and smiles to the group.

"You can't just show up to Villa de Lucha and expect to put on a mask and become Lucha…. That's not how it works, extraño…"

Explain to me how it works then?

It was obvious that Gran Jefe was becoming irritated with Doc… But continued to keep his cool as long as the two newcomers did.

"You are born into Lucha."

Gran Jefe laughs.

"It's not something you just pick up. And judging by your age, man, I don't know what you're thinking. I feel that you're disrespecting what is represented here. Is this some kind of joke you're playing?! Because if it is, I—"

"You seriously didn't just see him yeet me across the room with his mind? Ya'll deaf AND blind? Daddy used tuh ca—"

WHAM!! The Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier is flung across the room once more where it smacks the wall then the floor.

"¡Qué carajo!"

The five men jump back again as they witness a lot of Doc first hand on their very first encounter with him. Doc smiles and looks Gran Jefe dead in the eyes.

What could it hurt then? It won't take long to realize that I've wasted your time, right?

Gran Jefe snarls and slams his fist down on the table.

"You're a fool and you don't listen! I could show you the way of the Lucha style! I could teach you everything in the book there is to know about it! But that will still not make you Lucha.."

There must be a way.

Gran Jefe sighs to himself and looks to his five companions. One of them, the man in the red mask, steps forward and says quietly.

"¿No crees que es el elegido?"

"No, I don't think he's the 'chosen one'! Does he look like a 'chosen one' to you?"

The five men all shrug and fall back in line.

"Chosen one? If you guys are looking for a sacrifice, I'm game."

The doll quickly looks back to Doc with a look threatening him in a way if Doc sent him flying across the room again. It bats its tongue at Doc and signals Gran Jefe for another shot who ignores him.

What's the problem, exactly? I've been known to take care of things.

"There's no problem."

Doc chuckles.

Well, usually when someone is waiting for some kind of 'chosen one', they're waiting for someone to come and fix a problem. If I'm wrong, correct me, but—

"There is no problem! We live as Lucha and we fight! We fight from the day we are born, until the day we die!"

"¿y si lo es? What if?"

"Only there was a problem… I told you about the mountain and La Serpiente?"

"Si!"

"Well, the evil witch would send her minions across the land and collect young amigos like you and use them for her bidding. Creating an army so she could rule the land even stronger than she did then. Villa de Lucha is so small, we thought we were safe… But we weren't."

"What happened Gran Jefe?"

"Some were taken… And I took it upon MYself to bring them back… I didn't need the help of some outsider and his puppet… I had no time for this… So I took matters into my own hands and had a plan."

Gran Jefe sighs once more and grabs the bottle of Tequila to pour three more shots much to the doll's joy.

"Since we're being stingy, how about a double this time?"

Doc holds his glass up to cheer his host and takes a sip.

Look, I've been honest with you this entire time, my friend. How about having a little bit of courtesy towards your guests? After all, I'm only here seeking a little help myself.

Gran Jefe stares at Doc for a few seconds before taking a sip from his own glass.

"I'm still not sure about you… What was it? You're a doctor?"

Doctor Louis D'Ville, at your service.

Doc stands up and takes a short bow.

"Folks around here call me Gran Jefe…. I run things around here, and I don't just mean my store. This is Rey Martillo and Sombra Guerrero… My two best.."

He points to the two men in the masks who give little nods to Doc.

"And these are Martinez, Jorge, and Pedro…"

"What the fuck'r you guys? Lucha trainees?"

The doll laughs and bats his tongue at the three unmasked men. Jorge takes a step forward, but is held back by Rey Martillo by the arm.

"Do you get a surname with your mask when you graduate?"

Doc grabs the doll and shoves it head first inside the bottle of Tequila where it stays, bound in the neck. They, all but Gran Jefe, stare down at the feat with amazement and wide eyes.

So, are we going to be able to help each other out or not?

"There may be a way… It is very late though and we should pick this up tomorrow under rested minds. According to…. your friend… You've been traveling for many days…. A bed for a night and a good sleep couldn't hurt, could it?"

Do you mind if I keep the bottle?

Doc says with a smile pointing to the bottle of Tequila with the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier lodged within it.

"Take it."

Gran Jefe provided a room in the back of his store for Doc and the doll. There were actually several rooms attached to it for situations just like this. Well, not JUST like this, but close. No… Not close, but a little similar. Doc was promised more information in the morning where he would meet Gran Jefe at his shop.

Doc spent the night alone, and like most of the folks… Did not rest. But Doc didn't need it like the rest of them did… His endurance was long last. Although the trek across the desert wasn't easy…. He still felt he had most of the tank left.

Morning came soon enough and when the sun rose and crested across the rooftops of Villa de Lucha, Doc left his bungalow and headed for the shop. The Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier was nowhere to be found since it scurried away into the darkness in the middle of the night, but that hardly mattered to him.

Doc moved slowly down the street. It felt like a normal day for the place. The place was set back a couple of years though. They enjoyed the benefits of electricity and such, but there were no vehicles or anything like that around. The place was small enough to contain one street and you could walk around the entire thing in under a half hour if you really hoofed it. He reached the store and was surprised to find the door locked once more. He sighed and actually thought nothing of it, but before unlocking it himself he hesitated. Gran Jefe should have been expecting him and if at this point the store wasn't open… Something must be up. Doc turns and notices most of the people on the street were watching him until he turned around and they went back to their own business.

"I was very skeptical of the stranger… I gave him a room to stay in.. But I was leaving town before dawn… Without him."

"Why didn't you want to help the man, Gran Jefe?"

"I played it over and over again through my head, little ones… This stranger? This man? Seemed less and less like a man the more I got to know him and spoke with him. Maybe, it was perhaps I couldn't find a good enough reason TO help him…. BUT…. Lucha is our legacy. Lucha is our pride… It is our life. And for some stranger to approach me like he did… It didn't float well with me… So.. I just hoped he would have gotten the hint that morning and moved along…"

"Did he?"

"Heh… It wouldn't be much of a story if he did now, eh?"

Doc reaches into his pocket for a cigar when he hears a woman shriek a few doors down. The Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier is flung out a window and lands in the street.

"BASTARDO! ¡Vete a la mierda de mi casa! And stay out!!"

The yelling was coming from inside the house and it was unknown who it was… A young woman, half dressed, rushes out of the front door and to the street to the doll's aid.

"Mi pequeño amante… Are you alright?!"

She holds the doll in her hands and caresses it as Doc continues to watch from a short distance down the street. A large woman storms out the door a few seconds later with a cast-iron frying pan.

"I'll squash you bicho!!"

The younger amiga holds the doll tight and shields it from the oncoming wrath!

"No! No, madre! I love him!"

"You can't love him! It's not even a HIM! It's a doll! Cecilia, get in the house! This has gone too far!"

"No, ma ma!"

Suddenly, the frying pan held tightly by the threatening madre turns beat read and burns the woman's hand! She shrieks and shakes the pan from her hand until it manages to unstick itself from her skin and fall to the ground.

Pardon me, madam… But I'm looking for… Gran Jefe?

"YOU!"

She holds her burnt hand and points at Doc with both.

"You cabron! You're the reason he left!"

Who left?

"Gran Jefe!! He's gone to the mountain to fight the dragon!"

Well, why did he do that?!

The woman angrily explained to Doc the whole Lucha legacy stuff that Gran Jefe stood for and wouldn't dare ask the help of an outsider. Doc went up in arms explaining back to the frantic woman that all he ever wanted to do was help…. In exchange to become a Luchadore.

"You want to be Lucha? You bring Gran Jefe back in one piece… You bring him back, because we all know that the amigos taken by La Serpiente are already long gone… We all know he would be wasting his time! You bring him back and I'll make you a Luchadore, myself!"

You have that power?

The woman pulls a mask from some pocket within her dress and holds it out.

"They once called me… Lucha Madre… You go, senor! Go to the mountain and retrieve Gran Jefe and I will grant your wish to become a Luchadore!"

"My ignorance had been my downfall… I reached the mountain, with Rey Martillo and Sombra Guerrero and watched the two of them fall before my eyes… And it was my fault."

Doc and the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier left nearly immediately. Lucha Madre tried providing the supplies to the two of them, but Doc mostly refused besides a couple of cigars and some Tequila. The doll didn't have a say in the matter.

"Oh, mi pequeña máquina de follar… Please, come back to me."

"Just keep that asshole tight, baby!"

The doll bats its tongue at the young, beautiful Cecilia and she leans down to kiss it on the lips.

"Got something I can remember you by?"

She asks with a smile.

"I killed a bird a few minutes ago while Doc was pissing around with your mom. We could go halvesy's."

"I will pass."

"Well then no. I'll have to bring something back."

"I will wait for you, amante."

"You better or I'll kill you."

She laughs as the doll is scooped up by Doc and placed on his shoulder.

Are you done? We must be going.

"Yeah, I've got nothing left here. So, we torching this place or what?"

What? Of course not. Not yet, anyway.

"The journey was simple enough… It didn' require any maps or compasses…. Just legs and a whole lot of stamina. The mountain stood in the distance and always stared across the great plain at us… While the trek seemed unreasonable, I felt myself and my friends were well prepared for it…"

Doc and the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier walked across the desert for hours upon hours and miles and miles. The doll would go from walking along beside Doc to climbing up his leg, passed his torso, and sit on his shoulder… and would constantly pant like a dog.

You alright? Looks like you could use a drink.

"Yeah, bust out some Tequila, Doc."

Doc took the large backpack given to him by Lucha Madre and pulled a bottle of the good shit out and unscrewed the cap. After a couple of swigs, he holds it upside down and pours it down to the doll who catches it with his mouth from the ground.

"So, seriously, Doc… Why the fuck are we out here in the middle of the desert?"

To find Gran Jefe and take him back to the village.

"Yeah, but why."

So that woman back there makes me a Luchadore.

"BUT WHY?!?!"

Doc ponders for a moment…

Hm.. I don't really know. I suppose I thought it would be fun considering the circumstances. Fire & Ice is around the corner and I've got a target to eliminate and I suppose I thought it would be fun to match styles.

"Who?"

Latina Submission Machina!

"That's one hell of a name. Is her cousin American Technical Machine going to escort her to the ring?"

I can't answer that.

"What about, Pусская машина для подметания ног"

Russian Leg Sweeping Machine? Now, you're just being ridiculous.

"How the fuck did you get roped into this one?"

What do you mean? I don't get roped into anything. The darling asked for an appointment, and as the saying goes… the doctor's doors are always open!

"No, but seriously, why though."

Doc shrugs.

I never turn them away, you know that. Even if they're tiny, little bugs trying to crawl their way into some sort of recognized existence. She faced Duke recently.

"The fat one?"

There isn't a fat one.

"The ugly one then."

Young Duke. Thaddeus.

"Yeah,that one. She win?"

Of course she didn't win. With as much credit as I don't give the boy, he still played a very crucial part in our Tag Team Title reign, you know.

"Yeah, playing piggy-back between you and Corey Smith."

Haha! There's far more to it than that, let's not drift off the subject here! Latina Submission Machina faced Thaddeus Duke and to me it looked like it was all just a practice round getting ready for the big score.

"Uhhh, you?"

Exactly! We agreed to this weeks ago! I'd like to think she went about this all wrong, but at the same time does a person like her need to stay working to stay consistent? She DID lose and not only lose but give up, tap-out, cry mercy in match. Is that the sort of lead up someone wants to have going into a spectacle like Fire & Ice against the likes of yours truly? I certainly wouldn't. I mean, granted, I'm coming off a series of losses all throughout 2021 against the likes of Alias, Alias and Corey Smith, and Alias, but I feel that I've given enough separation between my bitter defeats that I'm confident enough to take a step forward and say that this young lady is in way, way, WAY over her head.

"Well, okay, so losing to Duke is bad, right? Maybe it was a fluke, has she done anything else that may… ya know… Make up for something as demeaning as that?"

She rattled off all of her accolades to the boy once or twice. Honestly, good for her, the 24/7 titles and Anarchy are good practice for her in the meantime while she's no where close to being ready for the big show. Fastest growing champion in a league so low that most people hardly know it even exists… But that's what it's for. If someone like myself would go over to Anarchy the place would be wiped out within a few weeks… It's a good place for the weak ones to scamper about in.

"So, what makes this bitch wanna come after you?"

Doc shrugs again.

How should I know? It's been a while, but people used to come out of the woodwork to have a session… Anymore, it seems like I really have to put myself out there for someone to step forward and want to try it.

"I'd fuck you up."

You, sir, are in no condition for a session at the moment.

"Yeah, but once I get out of this shitty doll…."

Doc laughs as they come up to a recently abandoned camp. The campfire still smolders with a little bit of smoke and supplies are scattered throughout it as if it was raided. Doc looks across the plain and sees that they are quite close to their mountain destination.

They must have been taken.

The Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier finds something in the weeds next to the camp and shouts to Doc.

"Hey! I found something!"

Doc hurries over to the bush and finds the doll digging through a fresh pile of crap that was partially shoved into the brush.

"It's cold, but I can tell it's fresh!"

Ack! Get out of there! You can tell by the ash in the firepit that they were just here!

"Hey! Evidence is evidence, Dawk!"

Doc shakes his head as the doll shakes its hands and carefully steps out and away from the pile as if he wasn't already covered in it.

"Bust out that Tequila. Lemme wash this shit off me then…."

"Several days passed without a sign of the stranger succeeding in his deed… The people of Villa de Lucha feared the worst as they knew if he did not succeed in his mission, even darker days were ahead of them."

When Doc and the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier finally reached the mountain lair of La Serpiente, it was almost too late for Gran Jefe. He was held prisoner by her and was about to be the victim in a ritual that would remove him from the Lucha family and force him out into a life of solitude where he would forever travel the desert alone… and without his mask.

Doc and the doll approached the base of the mountain where a single steel door kept them from entering… They were surprised that this big baddy that everyone spoke of didn't have more security….

Odd this place doesn't have more security.

"Fuck it, right?"

I guess so.

Doc opens the big steel door and the two of them walk into the mountain. The second they do, a spotlight shines down upon them.

"Hehehehahahahahamuahahahamuahahahaa!"

Laughter echoes throughout the dark cave. Doc attempts to peer past the light but cannot.

"You coming here was foolish!"

Another light comes on and shines up at a figure on a high balcony above them.

"The life of the Lucha is a thing of the past!"

The figure finally reveals itself within the light to a be an unmasked woman… She stares down at Doc and points down to a ring where Gran Jefe is strung up on a pole on the outside of it as several children crawl into the ring and await Doc.

"We should be free of our masks! Free from our "legacies!"

"You're only angry because you can't do a sunset flip!"

"Silence, Gran Jefe! You… You too will be taken from the world of the Lucha! We should be free to travel the world without the humble, yet burden of our legacies behind us! We should be able to start a new and not be shamed!"

"You're crazy! This is not the way!"

"I said silence! You! Stranger! You've come here seeking the way of the Lucha! Allow me to grant your wish! If you wish to become Lucha… Come! Come take the mask from Gran Jefe!"

The Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier looks up to Doc.

"Now, I haven't REALLY been paying that much attention to all of this shit… but I don't think that's how it works."

Shut up, I know.

Doc murmurs back to the doll.

I don't think that's how it works, my dear. I would prefer a more traditional way?

Doc approaches the ring anyway. All of the little people within the ring begin to shuffle around anxiously as he approaches with the doll.

"Then… DIE!!!"

"Die?!"

Okay.

The first few small people shoot over the ropes and out of the ring to the floor where Doc catches one and flings him over his shoulder. The doll rolls out of the way of the other, leaps up on its head, and twists it around snapping their neck. Doc looks over at the doll with a horrified look, but the doll shakes his hand and points down to the corpse.

"They're not kids, Doc! Look! They're fucking midgets!"

Doc double takes the ring and sees that these individuals threatening his and the doll's lives are indeed not children! Doc smiles and looks back to the doll.

Well, I guess like old days?

The doll farts and nods.

"Doctor SATAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!"

Doc and the Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier storm the ring and start completely cleaning house. Doc boots a couple in the face while the doll hops from one to the next ripping eyes from eye sockets and biting noses and juggulars…. Blood spews about the ring like some cheap Samurai movie. More and more keep flooding into the ring and Doc and the doll continue to decimate them with the littlest (no pun) effort. When the final aggressor stands across the ring from the doll and doctor… Doc picks it up and doused it in the remaining Tequila left in the bottle from his bag.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Doc takes his lighter and lights the doll on fire…

"AHHHHH!!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!!!!"

Doc races towards the last opponent Anime ninja style and shoves the flaming doll straight down his throat!!! Doc then picks him up and lands a vicious LOBOTOMY!!!!! THE HAIL SATAN SUPER DEATH SEQUENCE!!! The last midget explodes and the doll comes flying out where Doc catches him and places him on his shoulder! La Serpiente looks down with a scowl on her face and points a single finger down to the duo.

"You'll pay for this!! This isn't over! The Luchas…. They will all perish under my hand… eventually!!!!"

"Fuck you bitch, we owned you!"

Doc and the Jenny Myst doll celebrate in the ring like they always did before releasing Gran Jefe from his bounds on the post.

Back at Villa de Lucha… The people saw the party approaching and all gathered in the street to celebrate their arrival.

"Doc D'Ablo… He saved us all. Had I lost my mask that day… None of you would be here tonight listening to this story, or waking up tomorrow learning of the Lucha. We have many thanks to give to him… Which is why I granted his wish…"

Once they reached the town and everything settled down, Gran Jefe held a small ceremony…

"It is not every day that someone like you comes to our land. While La Serpiente still lingers in the shadows… This day was a victory for us all. Which brings me to give thanks to our strange visitor…"

Doc stands before Gran Jefe in front of the rest of the village.

"I present you… this mask… and you will from this day forward… be known as ….. Doc D'Ablo!!!"

Doc takes the red mask and slides it over his head and looks up to Gran Jefe with a sinister smile. The Jenny Myst doll possessed by Unknown Soldier pulls on Doc's pant leg.

"After all this you better beat this bitch."

Doc kicks the doll from his leg.

"So, seriously, now can we kill them?"

Buen dia mis amigos!

Boy, what a rotten situation that this girl is in, right? I've already come to the conclusion that when it comes to people like Latina Submission Machina or anyone else that scrapes the bottom of the barrel... I'm the last rope that dangles own to grab ahold of. Why that is? Well, because I'll give anyone a chance around here. Take Charlie, for example? That guy loves to just get his head kicked in by me. Whether its over a Christmas massacre or during March Madness or if we're passing by each other in the bathroom the guy just seems to be attracted to getting his head kicked in.

Miss Machina here, I think lives through the life of Charlie a bit. She's always seething at the Nickleman and, well, I can understand why. They guy was head over heels for the poor girls recently departed mother... I think before Charlie had his eyes solely set on Goldi he was wrapped up in some engagements that might make some of us a little... uneasy?

Is this maybe a way to get a one up on the man? Beating old Doc D'Ablo in a submission match? I think this girly has a lot more to work on before she takes a step like this to make herself feel better about whatever it was going on THERE. If Charlie's any kind of a role model, step father, whatever it is he might have going on here... If that man has a single strain of humanity left in his body he should feel absolutely terrified of the position this young girl is in. I don't think she realized what she was getting into, much like he did. I'm not just a step ladder to the top, my friends, I'm also the boot that keeps you down where you belong. I've had plenty of folks mention the few chunks taken out of my armor as of late, but what does that do? It's armor. I'll make more and I'm still the same whole, healthy, dominating being that I ever was. I watched Duke squeeze this girl into submission a couple of weeks ago an I'm going to do you one better. Once the Doctahajame is applied, she won't have the chance to give up.... I'm not going to release it until this girl's head pops like a little zit and that way... I'll even save a little face for her...]]>

Lightning flashes and a low rumble of thunder echoes across the dark plain. It was minutes before midnight in the small Villa de Lucha when a lightning strike woke everyone from a dead sleep and knocked out all of the electricity in the town. The storm only got worse in a short time, which brought the man in the green mask to rise from his bed and light a lantern. He listened to the wind blow and hail pelt his single pane windows as he hurriedly suited up and headed for the exit. When he opened the door to the outside, a gust of wind grabbed it and flung it against the side of his house.

"Mierda…"

Throwing a hood over his head he stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him. With the lantern in hand he fought through the weather across the small dirt road into a larger than his, yet singled-roomed, bungalow. He stepped inside and shook off the wetness from the rain. Slowly, he began to creep across the creaky floorboards out of the foyer and into a large open room with bunk beds lined up against the walls. He went throughout the room to several tables and began lighting small candles to create a bit of light and the small creatures in the beds began to stir even moreso. They watched as the man in the green mask slowly went to each side of the room and lit a candle. Another crash of thunder shook the house and terrorized them some more to the point they were up and about with their little hands on a panic button.

"My ignorance had been my downfall… I reached the mountain, with Rey Martillo and Sombra Guerrero and watched the two of them fall before my eyes… And it was my fault."

Back at Villa de Lucha… The people saw the party approaching and all gathered in the street to celebrate their arrival.

EARTH M4G1C
Court of the Bloody Baron, the Northern Reaches, Northern Continent
28/01/2022, 1627 Hrs, Local Time

~When the job had been described to Jay Omega, it had been made to seem urgent; as though the band of mercenaries he had been tasked with stopping were nearly there. The reality of the situation was that the quartet of killers had been fighting their way up the massive spire of an evil wizard, and even though a week had passed since Omega had agreed to this job, his targets were still four floors below him. Four floors full of whatever devious traps and nightmarish monsters the Bloody Baron, Janus von Megar, had concocted. They had been making better time the higher they climbed, the tower narrowing as it reached the top provided less space, meaning fewer monsters.

Bored out of his mind, Jay slumped against the volcanic obsidian wall and looked over at Jack "of Shadows" Hampshire, who was using the perpendicular wall's reflective surface as a scrying table. Seemed the troupe were involved in another battle, at least those were enough to hold Omega's interest; more than half the time Jack had been spying had been spent watching the approaching men walk or sleep. There had also been that disturbing night when the bard, Johnson Armstrong had crept away from his sleeping compatriots and had his way with the mostly intact corpse of a worg.

"Fuckin' hate waiting." The Omega Man said needlessly, drawing a sympathetic nod from Jack. As one, Jay retrieved a blunt from his case while Hampshire withdrew a cigarette from his pack, and the two men lit up in synchronicity; twin plumes of smoke drifting upward.

"Only three floors now," Jack stated in a quiet voice; he had ostensibly been conserving his energy all day, "At this rate, they'll be coming through that fookin' door in about twenty minutes or so."

"Bangarang," Omega said as he hit his blunt, then jerked his thumb in the direction of the balcony across the room, "I'mma go cut my last promo, kill some time. Holler if you need me."

Hampshire nodded and waved him off dismissively, never taking his eyes from the scene unfolding before him. The Omega Man retreated across the room and stepped out onto the balcony, taking a deep breath of air unspoiled by industrial pollutants as he reached inside his vest. Jay withdrew a Compact Aerial Recon Drone - essentially a flying camera the size of a business card - synced it with his Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device, then tossed the C.A.R.D. into the air. Meanwhile, Jack of Shadows continued with the ritual he had quietly been casting since daybreak. It required a great deal of both his concentration and his reserves of magical energy, but if he could finish before their expected company arrived, it would ensure things went in his and Jay's favor.

Hampshire watched as the silent monk quickstepped between several traps, expending his ki to move faster than the malicious mechanical hazards could operate, leaving the way behind him clear for the others. The barbarian forged ahead and activated a floor panel, which brought two stone pillars swinging in from either side. Jack merely quirked an eyebrow when the half orc caught a pillar in each hand, straining from the effort, then raised both eyebrows when the barbarian shoved the pillars all the way back into the walls; applying such force to the mechanism that Hampshire could hear the metal squealing in protest from two floors away. Jack watched as the group cleared the last trap of the floor - a spike pit the barbarian simply threw everyone over - and ascended another level; only two more to go.

Jack had to wonder if this intrepid band would even make it to them, for as the group entered the main chamber, a Minotaur stepped from the shadows with a bellow. The beast's roar was met by one from the barbarian, who surged forward with his greatmaul moving into an overhand swing. The Minotaur dodged with uncanny speed, then blasted the barbarian backward with a powerful kick from its cloven hoof. Immediately the bard was at the barbarian's side, strumming what Hampshire assumed was a soothing tune on his acoustic guitar. Jack had to assume, as he had chosen to forgo the option of listening while scrying, due to the need for concentration. The barbarian rose to his feet and shook his head, then gave the Minotaur a feral grin and charged again, this time flanked by the changeling fighter and the monk.

The fighter and monk outpaced the barbarian within a few steps, leaving him to bring up the rear as they closed the distance to their foe. Once they were in range, the Minotaur swung his great scythe-like sword in a horizontal arc; the changeling fluidly slipping under the blade by sliding on its knees, while the monk leapt up onto the sword and sprinted down its length to land a ki-assisted palm strike square between the beast’s beady eyes. The Minotaur grunted in surprise as it staggered back a step, then cried out in pain as the changeling fighter popped up to a vertical base and slashed at the beast’s thigh with its magic blades. The monstrous abomination dropped its sword to clutch at its wound, only to have the barbarian bowl it over with a reckless charge that put them both on the floor.

The half orc and the half bull rolled around in a violent embrace; punching, kicking, biting. The barbarian landed a solid headbutt which rocked the beast, then sprung back to pick up his greatmaul. As the barbarian raised his heavy weapon overhead, the changeling quickly stepped behind and around the half orc, coming out the other side as a mirror image of the brutal warrior, its magic weapon having morphed into a matching greatmaul. Like a pair of steel-drivers constructing a railroad, the two identical barbarians worked their greatmauls rhythmically; pounding the Minotaur’s head and chest until long after the creature was dead; nothing remaining above the waist but ground beef and one unbroken horn, which the barbarian claimed as a trophy. The troupe trudged wearily toward the door leading to the next staircase, the monk paused as he realized the bard wasn’t with them, and looked back inquisitively.

“You guys go on ahead,” Jack was unable to hear what Johnson said to the others as he eyed the dead Minotaur’s untouched backside, but he could read the man’s lips well enough, “I’ll catch up.” The monk shivered in revulsion and turned away; Jack wisely chose to have the scrying follow him. Only one floor now separated the advancing adventurers from Hampshire and Omega. The mage was nearing the end of the ritual, but by his estimation, it was going to be a photo finish between the spell completing and the four mercenaries bursting through the door. The three weapon-wielding warriors stepped into what seemed like an empty chamber, but waited just inside the threshold rather than explore without their fourth. They didn’t have to wait long before the bard entered the room behind them, retying his baggy breeches with a satisfied smile on his face.

No sooner had the troupe reunited than the doors at either end of the room slammed shut of their own accord. The quartet all readied themselves, casting about in the shadows for any possible threat, then all looked down in unison. Hampshire leaned a bit closer, sparing just a little more concentration in an attempt to see what they were seeing; water. The room was slowly filling with water from some unseen source. The changeling nudged the barbarian and pointed at the exit, who nodded and hefted his greatmaul as he crossed the room, his progress slowed by the knee-high liquid. The half orc reached the far wall and swung his enormous hammer at the door, only to find it magically warded; the resulting crimson shockwave hurled the barbarian back among his companions and knocked them all down.

All four took some time to gather their wits about them; the water now up to the monk's waist. The bard waded over the the sealed door, holding his guitar well above the waterline, and began strumming tunelessly, carefully watching the door for any sort of reaction. Of a sudden, the bard plucked several strings in rapid succession, ending with a flourishing strum that dispelled the arcane lock in a flare of red. Unable to pull the unlocked door open against the mounting water pressure, the bard called for the dazed barbarian to try again. Not waiting for the slow-moving half orc, the monk flowed through the water as if the impediment were scarcely there, and laid a flurry of strikes against the thick oak door. Several cracks opened on the wooden surface, widening as the water sought escape from the confines of the room as eagerly as the occupants.

Jack of Shadows heard the door at the other end of the nearby stairwell shatter as it was torn apart by an angry barbarian, and released the scrying spell, signalling to Omega that it was time. Hampshire turned all his focus toward finishing the ritual, completing everything but the trigger phrase as Jay came and stood at his side, drawing both his alien pistol and the facsimile produced by Tesla. Omega raised his weapons to shoulder level, and spoke to each of them in turn.

"Stunner rounds," The Omega Man said to the Virfneb Caster, then turned his head to the Tesla Caster Mk.3, "Tesla rounds; level one"

"Stunner rounds." Confirmed the original weapon, whirring as the selected ammunition was manufactured.

"Tesla rounds, level one." Echoed the man-made copy, the barrel reconfiguring to fit the appropriate shells.

"How we doin', Jack?" Jay asked, the emptiness of his voice reflecting his pre-combat calm.

"Ready when you are, bruv," the mage replied, then raised his hands into a ready position as the splintered remains of the door at the far end of the room exploded inward from the force of the barbarian's kick, "And not a fookin' moment too soon."~

==============================
"Earn your crown by overcoming your crosses."
-Matshona Dhliwayo
==============================
*We fade in to fin--*

*WHOA! Aren't you going to welcome the True Believers back to the party?*

*I wasn't planning to, no. And working with you is hardly a party.*

*That's cold. Ya gotta be nice to the True Believers; their financial support is the only thing keeping the lights on!*

*What the fuck are you talking about? No, no, don't answer; I don't care, I don't want to know.*

*We here at Jay-Omega-Promos dot com dot org dot gov dot cc are committed to bringing you top quality content on an inconsistent basis, but we can't do it alone. Pledging your support with a financial donation goes a long way toward continuing the long-standing tradition of Jay Omega promos being great stuff, and it's also tax deductible. A donation of just five thousand Hylian rupees gets you entry-level membership, and access to our exclusive collection of Jay Omega crossover fanfiction. To make a donation, leave the specified amount in an otherwise unmarked paper bag out back behind the Arby's(you know the one), and an associate will collect it and follow up with you within twenty-four hours.*

*I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.*

*Love me or hate me, still an obsession. Love me or hate me, that is the question. If you lo--*

*NO! I tolerate a lot of your shit, but if you ever reference Lady Sovereign in my presence again, I will have the Director send you on "vacation".*

*Wow, o-okay. I'll try to rein it in, no need to pull out the big guns.*

*Good. Now, let's get started. We fade in to fin--*

*Welcome back, True Believers!*

*Fade in to find Jay Omega illuminated by the gentles tones of approaching sunset, leaning on the thick marble balustrade of an elaborate balcony affixed to what appears to be a tower built of obsidian bricks; part of a room opulently decorated in scarlet and gold visible through the archway behind him. The blunt burning away in his right hand as much a part of his outfit as the leather vest or utility pants; its presence as comforting to him as the oversized pistols holstered on each thigh.*

JAY OMEGA: From the moment Chammy's first promo hit the airwaves, I could see the theme they had in mind; divide the opponents into tidy packages, and show off that vaunted emulation in short, sustainable bursts. That's why the first promo focused on only two opponents; it would have been a cognitive overload for Chammy to try shifting through five personalities each time. Clearly the intent is to have the last promo focus entirely on Corey, if Chammy can find the time. And I'm sure that won't be an issue, considering how many corners were cut on that last schlockfest.

*Omega hits the blunt like it owes him money, and shakes his head in disbelief at the Chameleon's lack of production values.*

JAY OMEGA: Congratulations, Chammy, on getting your Dick Powers impersonation right, at least. Of course, it's not too hard to imitate a vapid one trick pony who has no sense of how irrelevant he is. But you? You nailed it! I almost believed I was subjecting myself to the psychological torture of sitting through a lesser competitor's poorly constructed attempt at ham-fisting as many juvenile innuendos into a tired scenario as possible. Then I realized I was watching a lesser competitor's poorly constructed attempt at mimicking a lesser competitor. So like I said, good job; I truly believed that you suck as much as Powers; possibly even more! A testament to your ability, truly.

*Jay draws on the blunt again, shifting his focus for a moment to take in the splendor of nature's majesty, unseen from the vantage point of the cam--*

*I think that's a pair of deer boning down there.*

*Classy. Omega exhales a thick cloud of creamy smoke which hangs in the air for a moment before being snatched away on a mid-afternoon breeze. A moment more passes in silence, then his gaze returns to us.*

JAY OMEGA: But then you went and dropped the ball with Hayato Okamoto; what happened there? I'd be willing to cut you some slack, and say that it's hard to imitate someone you know next to nothing about, but that didn't stop you from trying with me. C'mon, surely you could have at least attempted aping a match in some obscure Japanese arena, talk about the inherent difficulties of making a mainstream debut with little to no marketing. Shit, it could have been real relatable; might've helped you with some much needed introspection. But that’s probably considered a dirty word in your circle; something your Custodian needs to scrub away from what little personality you possess. Here’s hoping whatever derivative simulation of Corey’s life you wind up butchering is at least mildly entertaining; I hear the kid’s had quite the exciting career. Though to be perfectly honest, I’d rather hear the gritty details straight from the horse’s mouth, not watered down and spat in my face like a tepid martini in an airport bar.

*Another hit from the blunt, and The Omega Man points at the camera with his left hand and spins about face, the drone tracking with his arm to keep his handsome mug centered, though the background whirls in a dizzying way that kinda makes me feel like I’m gonna do the Technicolor yawn in a moment; motion sickness is a bitch. Anyhoo, now Jay’s leaning back against the balcony’s railing, and we get an eyeful of that good ol’ natural Splenda, which I think is just sugar. Does that make sense? I mean, it is a sweet view… Yeah, that makes sense. So yeah, that natural Splenda; a wide field of emerald green treetops stretches out into the horizon, with enough space here and there that you can kinda see into the forest in some places. In fact, if you direct your attention to the bottom right corner of the screen and squint real hard, you might be able to see those boning deer I was talking about.*

JAY OMEGA: And I will get to Corey in a moment, I just need to quickly run down the other three minor obstacles in my path. So, Dick Powers is the least credible threat in this match by a country mile, and he’s also the least funny joke I’ve heard in my short time as an XWF employee. The dude is a personification of everything a fourteen year old kid associates with a ladykiller, with matching vocabulary. Listen man, I know your high school sweetheart wrote “don’t ever change” in your yearbook back in Two Thousand Nine, but come on!

*Omega casually flicks the ash away from the end of his blunt and gives the camera a pitying look.*

JAY OMEGA: Only slightly more credible of a threat is Rampage. I know in my last two videos I’ve omitted the fact that he was a Television Champion, and I don’t want y’all to get the idea that maybe I didn’t do my homework, ‘cause I did. It's just that his reign was so short, they didn't even bother engraving a nameplate for him. And I don't mean to denigrate all the big time players who have held the TeeVee title on their way to greatness, but it is a third string title, and beneath my personal notice. But Rampage hasn't done anything since losing the belt back to the same person he fluked into winning it from, leading me to believe that's not just the pinnacle of his achievements, but also of his ability.

*The Omega Man glances past us at something inside, craning his neck to do so, then shimmies a few steps to the side for a more comfortable view. Jay puts his attention back on us, then fills his lungs with some of that sweet dankness.*

JAY OMEGA: The only reason I’m considering Hayato Okamoto more of a threat than the two established names is because he’s a complete wildcard at this point. Dude could show up and go all One Punch Man on us, pick up the Supercontinental title without breaking a sweat. Maybe he hasn’t promoted the match at all because he’s confident he’ll be a big enough draw to negate any fines he gets slapped with for not upholding his end of the contract. Maybe… shit, did anyone check if this guy speaks English? Maybe he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to upload his promos, or maybe he misinterpreted the number of promos required by a match of this caliber. Are we even sure he knows he’s been booked? Somebody in management ought to look into that.

*Omega takes one last deep pull on the blunt, then tosses the remainder over his shoulder and exhales upward.*

JAY OMEGA: Now that the formalities have been observed, we can get to the fun stuff. The real match; Jay Omega versus Corey Smith, no matter what the sideshow reject in the shiny mask thinks. First things first, I want to clarify something I said about not wanting the Supercontinental strap we’re scrapping for. Don’t think for a second that means I’m going to throw anything less than all I’ve got at ya, Core’meister. All I meant by that was that a singles championship wasn’t on my agenda when I signed my contract; it wasn’t something I was actively seeking. I ain’t dumb enough to turn down the opportunity, though.

The Omega Man gives us his trademark half baked half grin and tilts his head to the side.*

JAY OMEGA: Besides, there’s still plenty of room in my trophy case; just ‘cause I was intent on goin’ after the tag straps doesn’t mean I can’t hold two belts at once, and I do look good in gold. Rest assured, Corey, regardless of what the prize is at the end of the match, it’s the high from gettin’ that dubya that I’m chasin’. I’d still go all out even if winning meant getting a sandpaper handjob from Charlie Nickles while he insists on making eye contact. … Okay, I might consider taking a dive on that one, not gonna lie. But my point stands; it doesn’t matter to me whether or not I had a vested interest in chasing the Supercontinental Championship, I have the opportunity to strut my stuff with one of the best in the business, with the potential to pick up a title and build its prestige. I would have to actively hate myself to not take full advantage, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I most definitely do not hate myself.

*Jay gives us a cheeky wink, then rolls his head on his neck, producing a pop from his vertebrae.*

JAY OMEGA: So now that we’ve agreed we’re both going full throttle, that means I’m not going to get a slow paced opening to buy more recovery time. Maybe I should pop over to Earth Ay En One Em Three and grab myself a senzu bean, ensuring I’m in top form. Oh shit, maybe I’ll just steal a health potion from the asshole whose tower I’m defending for reasons I was never fully on board with. To be honest, I’ll probably just smoke a fat blunt and slam back a couple of Monster energy drinks and be good to go; I ain’t superhuman, but I have been doing this sort of thing for a long time, so my stamina is not in short supply. No, the methodical work will come in the preliminary match, Corey; a game of conservation between Chameleon and I, to see who can expend as little energy as possible in order to save the most for you. But here’s the thing; Chammy’s not going into this match with the intent to emulate me. No, Sunday night, I’m gonna beat down Dicky, Rampage, and Hayato in the middle of a match with Corie Smyth. Chammy thinks they’ve got your number, Core’meister, and they’re going to be making a mockery of you in that ring. I’ll tell ya right now, the only number Chammy has is a big ol’ two, ‘cause I think it’s safe to say we all know that I’m coming out of this scramble as number one.

*Omega looks past the camera again, and gives a nod of acknowledgment to someone inside.*

JAY OMEGA: Well, I think that’s about all the time I’ve got, about to have guests in a moment. Before I go, though, I want you to know that I was serious about swapping stories over a beer some time; I get that you’re a busy guy, so I’ll leave ya my number after the show. Give me a shout when you’re free and we’ll hang; I know a fantastic bar with a killer view, so long as you don’t mind a short trip. All right, I’m out; see y’all in the ring!

*Jay gives the universal “cut” signal, and the scene fades to black.*

==============================
”For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust in the first place.”
-The Hunger Games
==============================

EARTH M4G1C
Court of the Bloody Baron, the Northern Reaches, Northern Continent
28/01/2022, 1642 Hrs, Local Time

~Janus von Megar stood at the head of the summoning circle, conducting the summoning ceremony that would bring others of his kind into this world, barely able to contain his combined glee and self-satisfaction. The information that had been asked of him had been a pittance - a trifling query about the intentions of a lich already gone from their realm, and how to combat it, should such have become necessary. In return he had duped his mortal enemy into defending him while he brought ruin and damnation to the people here; he did so enjoy it when a plot came together. So caught up was he in his self-congratulatory fervor, that he failed to notice the chamber door to his left swing slowly open. He did not, however, miss the near-silent sound of the monk dashing across the room in his direction.

Enraged, von Megar shifted just enough attention away from his main focus to ragdoll the monk back across the room with a telekinetic throw. He was vaguely aware of a meaty thud and a loud crack as the monk hit the wall, but his concentration was already back on forcing open the hole between realms that had finally appeared in the center of the circle. A thick black liquid oozed from the hole and flowed out of the circle as though it were a living thing, making its way over toward the fallen monk as the other adventurers and that infuriating Omega filed into the room and spread out. The insufferable fool began a heroically cliched speech about good and evil and second chances; von Megar spared just enough of a thought to throw a small fireball in his general direction; the portal was almost large enough, he just needed a few more moments. Moments it seemed he would have, as the monk rose back to his feet with an unearthly moan, his head lolling to the side on a broken neck.

The walking corpse shambled toward the bard, whose leg was pinned under some rubble. Johnson shrunk back in fear, but was unable to prevent the monk from descending on him. The being formerly known as Sum Khan Ji took hold of Johnson’s head and vomited a stream of black fluid onto the man’s face. Armstrong screamed in unabashed agony as the substance wormed its way into his body through his eyes, nose, and mouth. The scream became a gurgle, which choked off completely, followed by both the monk and the bard producing the same unearthly moan simultaneously. The Bloody Baron redoubled his efforts, forcing the hole to remain steady at roughly the circumference of a strong man’s bicep; large enough for a long, thin tentacle to snake out, then another. The appendages stretched out, then looped back in on themselves, gripping the edges of the portal and trying to brute force it open further.

A small metal cylinder suddenly appeared on one tentacle’s side, followed by the tentacle itself convulsing as the casing hit it with several rapid bursts of 80 kilovolts. Janus blinked several times as he brought himself back to the here and now, realizing where the shot had come from. With his part in the summoning complete, von Megar turned his full attention to the intruders in his casting chamber. Electricity surged up the baron’s arm, little arcs jumping betweens his fingers like a living Jacob’s Ladder; the barbarian rose up in his path, and the barbarian was cast down with cardiac arrhythmia, his considerable muscles doing him no good as they seized endlessly. When the shaking did finally stop, the changeling was suddenly crouched over the barbarian, vomiting black fluid onto his face as well.

“Well fuckbunkies,” Omega swore quietly as he realized he was going to have to kill the four mercenaries anyway. It did help to ease his conscience knowing that they were in fact already dead, and he would be doing them a mercy. But it wouldn’t be as simple as shooting zombies in the head; this was some black magic at work and he also had to contend with whatever spells von Megar added to the mix. With no time to plan or even think, Jay threw himself into motion, flowing through the stances of gunkata as he moved about the room, keeping distance between himself and the shuffling undead as he fired a variety of ammunition in the hopes of finding something effective. The barbarian zombie flared up in an unexpected blaze, incinerated by Jack Hampshire, and Omega took the hint, switching to fire-based ammo. When the undead monk, bard, and fighter had been subdued, Jay turned to Jack of Shadows with a smile on his face that froze as the two men were lifted into the air.

“Impudent worm!” Shouted the Bloody Baron as he spun The Omega Man to face him, then stretched him out as tightly as he could, arms held to either side. “Didst thou not think I wouldst anticipate thy betrayal? Thou art a man without integrity, Omega; I never had any trust for thee. But now? Now I shall flay thee alive, and eat thy still-beating heart in front of thee! Dost thou have any last words, thou miserable dung beetle?!?” Omega gave a Cheshire cat smile and held his head up as straight as he could.

“Blabberin’ blatherskite.”

A shockwave of violet energy blasted through the room, robbing everyone of sight for a moment. When von Megar’s vision returned, he found himself looking down the three barrels of a shoulder mounted rotating autocannon, the weapon already spinning up. With a snarl, the Bloody Baron sprayed a cone of acid from his hand and dove for cover behind a collapsed section of wall.

“Fuck yes!” Jay yelled, his voice synthesized by the external speakers of the futuristic power armor he now wore, “I can’t believe it worked!” Omega raised his right hand, and an underslung grenade launcher locked into position, the launch tube extending well past Jay’s wrist. With a loud THOONK!, The Omega Man fired a gas grenade on the other side of the rubble; they needed von Megar alive in order to counter whatever he had been trying to do. When the grenade failed to go off, Jay stalked closer to von Megar’s concealment and discovered the devious baron had cut a hole in the floor and made his escape.

“Shit, Baron von Fuckface managed to get away," Omega said in disappointment, then looked back at where Jack of Shadows was trying to close the extradimensional portal with a panicked expression on his face.

“I can’t fookin’ stop it, bruv!” Hampshire said, his voice strained, “Whatever the fook’s on the other side is too fookin’ much for me! You’ve gotta get out of here; I can maybe destroy the portal, but it’ll be like a fook off giant nuke.”

“Yeah, you know I’m not gonna just leave, Jack,” Jay chided with a shake of his armored head “Don’t be dumb. What kind of range do you need to destroy it? The supersuit can fly for a few minutes, maybe we could–”

“I have to touch it.” Jack said sadly, “Look, don’t drag this out more than it needs, you emotional cunt; take your supersuit and fly away, you let Jacky Boy settle things here.”

“No!” Omega cried, “I’m not going to just leave you; there has to be a way to close it!”

“Bruv, it’s takin’ everything I’ve got to keep it where it is, and I don’t have much left in the fookin’ tank,” Hampshire said tiredly, taking a step toward the glowing aperture, “I could close it if I were ten times stronger, but I’d need access to a fookin’ huge store of cosmic energy, and there’s just no fookin’ way to get what we need in the next thirty seconds.”

“Wait, do you hear that?” Jay asked, tilting his head quizzically, “Like someone screaming in terror, but really far away?”

Several blue streaks of energy crackled in the air behind Omega, and he turned around just in time to see a column of cerulean light bore a hole through the vaulted ceiling. Left standing in the center of a small divot in the obsidian was a young Japanese businessman with an ornately carved sapphire embedded in his left palm.

“Kaz?” The Omega Man asked Kazuto Mazikawa in a mix of confusion and incredulity, “The fuck are you doing here? How did you get here? What the fucking fuck?”

Mazikawa looked around in equal confusion, not even sure where “here” was, then looked down at the gem in his palm, which had begun to glow softly.

“I don’t know. I was meditating in my quarters when I heard a voice telling me I was needed,” Kazuto explained, speaking as though he were only partially awake, “I remember standing up, and then I was here. I’m here because I’m needed.”

Before anyone could react, Kazuto reached out with his gem-laden hand and placed it between Jack’s shoulder blades. Hampshire gasped in surprise as power flooded into him, his eyes taking on a sapphire glow, and an aura of blue flame dancing over his hands. Jack of Shadows rose two feet into the air, the flames around his hands condensing and growing brighter until it seemed he was holding a pair of white-hot spheres. Hampshire slowly settled back to the ground, then placed his glowing hands above and below the portal, bringing them together at a steady pace. A mind bending shriek emanated from within the portal, and for a moment Jay could swear that everything he looked at tasted blue. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come, and Omega watched as the glowing spheres in Jack’s hands fused the ragged hole in reality shut once more.

The Omega Man was right there when the blue light went out from Hampshire’s eyes, helped steady him as he collapsed onto all fours heaving deep, shuddering breaths. Jay was worried over the state of his friend’s health, when Jack turned to look at him, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Fook me, bruv,” Hampshire said breathlessly, “That was better than the night we did molly with those strippers.”

Relieved that the mage seemed to be alright, Omega rose and regarded Mazikawa intently, paying special attention to the softly glowing gem.

“Hey man, I know I said I wasn’t gonna push you or anything,” Jay began, indicating the stone fused to Kazuto’s hand, “But when we get back, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let Nicky check that thing out a little more in-depth; I’d like to know what the Hells just happened, and if you can do it again.”

Mazikawa nodded in dazed agreement, not sure what had happened himself, and Omega hauled Jack of Shadows back up to his feet.

“Okay, Jack, break time’s over,” The Omega Man said good naturedly, “If you’d be so kind as to Gate us back to the island, I’ll fire up the ol’ Cue Em Tee Ess when we get there so we can head on home; I’ve got two matches to wrestle, and a championship to win.”~]]> The Cost of Victory

==============================
"I like to have powerful enemies; makes me feel important."
-Leigh Bardugo
==============================

EARTH M4G1C
Court of the Bloody Baron, the Northern Reaches, Northern Continent
28/01/2022, 1627 Hrs, Local Time

EARTH M4G1C
Court of the Bloody Baron, the Northern Reaches, Northern Continent
28/01/2022, 1642 Hrs, Local Time

~Janus von Megar stood at the head of the summoning circle, conducting the summoning ceremony that would bring others of his kind into this world, barely able to contain his combined glee and self-satisfaction. The information that had been asked of him had been a pittance - a trifling query about the intentions of a lich already gone from their realm, and how to combat it, should such have become necessary. In return he had duped his mortal enemy into defending him while he brought ruin and damnation to the people here; he did so enjoy it when a plot came together. So caught up was he in his self-congratulatory fervor, that he failed to notice the chamber door to his left swing slowly open. He did not, however, miss the near-silent sound of the monk dashing across the room in his direction.

Enraged, von Megar shifted just enough attention away from his main focus to ragdoll the monk back across the room with a telekinetic throw. He was vaguely aware of a meaty thud and a loud crack as the monk hit the wall, but his concentration was already back on forcing open the hole between realms that had finally appeared in the center of the circle. A thick black liquid oozed from the hole and flowed out of the circle as though it were a living thing, making its way over toward the fallen monk as the other adventurers and that infuriating Omega filed into the room and spread out. The insufferable fool began a heroically cliched speech about good and evil and second chances; von Megar spared just enough of a thought to throw a small fireball in his general direction; the portal was almost large enough, he just needed a few more moments. Moments it seemed he would have, as the monk rose back to his feet with an unearthly moan, his head lolling to the side on a broken neck.

The walking corpse shambled toward the bard, whose leg was pinned under some rubble. Johnson shrunk back in fear, but was unable to prevent the monk from descending on him. The being formerly known as Sum Khan Ji took hold of Johnson’s head and vomited a stream of black fluid onto the man’s face. Armstrong screamed in unabashed agony as the substance wormed its way into his body through his eyes, nose, and mouth. The scream became a gurgle, which choked off completely, followed by both the monk and the bard producing the same unearthly moan simultaneously. The Bloody Baron redoubled his efforts, forcing the hole to remain steady at roughly the circumference of a strong man’s bicep; large enough for a long, thin tentacle to snake out, then another. The appendages stretched out, then looped back in on themselves, gripping the edges of the portal and trying to brute force it open further.

A small metal cylinder suddenly appeared on one tentacle’s side, followed by the tentacle itself convulsing as the casing hit it with several rapid bursts of 80 kilovolts. Janus blinked several times as he brought himself back to the here and now, realizing where the shot had come from. With his part in the summoning complete, von Megar turned his full attention to the intruders in his casting chamber. Electricity surged up the baron’s arm, little arcs jumping betweens his fingers like a living Jacob’s Ladder; the barbarian rose up in his path, and the barbarian was cast down with cardiac arrhythmia, his considerable muscles doing him no good as they seized endlessly. When the shaking did finally stop, the changeling was suddenly crouched over the barbarian, vomiting black fluid onto his face as well.

“Well fuckbunkies,” Omega swore quietly as he realized he was going to have to kill the four mercenaries anyway. It did help to ease his conscience knowing that they were in fact already dead, and he would be doing them a mercy. But it wouldn’t be as simple as shooting zombies in the head; this was some black magic at work and he also had to contend with whatever spells von Megar added to the mix. With no time to plan or even think, Jay threw himself into motion, flowing through the stances of gunkata as he moved about the room, keeping distance between himself and the shuffling undead as he fired a variety of ammunition in the hopes of finding something effective. The barbarian zombie flared up in an unexpected blaze, incinerated by Jack Hampshire, and Omega took the hint, switching to fire-based ammo. When the undead monk, bard, and fighter had been subdued, Jay turned to Jack of Shadows with a smile on his face that froze as the two men were lifted into the air.

“Impudent worm!” Shouted the Bloody Baron as he spun The Omega Man to face him, then stretched him out as tightly as he could, arms held to either side. “Didst thou not think I wouldst anticipate thy betrayal? Thou art a man without integrity, Omega; I never had any trust for thee. But now? Now I shall flay thee alive, and eat thy still-beating heart in front of thee! Dost thou have any last words, thou miserable dung beetle?!?” Omega gave a Cheshire cat smile and held his head up as straight as he could.

“Blabberin’ blatherskite.”

A shockwave of violet energy blasted through the room, robbing everyone of sight for a moment. When von Megar’s vision returned, he found himself looking down the three barrels of a shoulder mounted rotating autocannon, the weapon already spinning up. With a snarl, the Bloody Baron sprayed a cone of acid from his hand and dove for cover behind a collapsed section of wall.

“Fuck yes!” Jay yelled, his voice synthesized by the external speakers of the futuristic power armor he now wore, “I can’t believe it worked!” Omega raised his right hand, and an underslung grenade launcher locked into position, the launch tube extending well past Jay’s wrist. With a loud THOONK!, The Omega Man fired a gas grenade on the other side of the rubble; they needed von Megar alive in order to counter whatever he had been trying to do. When the grenade failed to go off, Jay stalked closer to von Megar’s concealment and discovered the devious baron had cut a hole in the floor and made his escape.

“Shit, Baron von Fuckface managed to get away," Omega said in disappointment, then looked back at where Jack of Shadows was trying to close the extradimensional portal with a panicked expression on his face.

“I can’t fookin’ stop it, bruv!” Hampshire said, his voice strained, “Whatever the fook’s on the other side is too fookin’ much for me! You’ve gotta get out of here; I can maybe destroy the portal, but it’ll be like a fook off giant nuke.”

“Yeah, you know I’m not gonna just leave, Jack,” Jay chided with a shake of his armored head “Don’t be dumb. What kind of range do you need to destroy it? The supersuit can fly for a few minutes, maybe we could–”

“I have to touch it.” Jack said sadly, “Look, don’t drag this out more than it needs, you emotional cunt; take your supersuit and fly away, you let Jacky Boy settle things here.”

“No!” Omega cried, “I’m not going to just leave you; there has to be a way to close it!”

“Bruv, it’s takin’ everything I’ve got to keep it where it is, and I don’t have much left in the fookin’ tank,” Hampshire said tiredly, taking a step toward the glowing aperture, “I could close it if I were ten times stronger, but I’d need access to a fookin’ huge store of cosmic energy, and there’s just no fookin’ way to get what we need in the next thirty seconds.”

“Wait, do you hear that?” Jay asked, tilting his head quizzically, “Like someone screaming in terror, but really far away?”

Several blue streaks of energy crackled in the air behind Omega, and he turned around just in time to see a column of cerulean light bore a hole through the vaulted ceiling. Left standing in the center of a small divot in the obsidian was a young Japanese businessman with an ornately carved sapphire embedded in his left palm.

“Kaz?” The Omega Man asked Kazuto Mazikawa in a mix of confusion and incredulity, “The fuck are you doing here? How did you get here? What the fucking fuck?”

Mazikawa looked around in equal confusion, not even sure where “here” was, then looked down at the gem in his palm, which had begun to glow softly.

“I don’t know. I was meditating in my quarters when I heard a voice telling me I was needed,” Kazuto explained, speaking as though he were only partially awake, “I remember standing up, and then I was here. I’m here because I’m needed.”

Before anyone could react, Kazuto reached out with his gem-laden hand and placed it between Jack’s shoulder blades. Hampshire gasped in surprise as power flooded into him, his eyes taking on a sapphire glow, and an aura of blue flame dancing over his hands. Jack of Shadows rose two feet into the air, the flames around his hands condensing and growing brighter until it seemed he was holding a pair of white-hot spheres. Hampshire slowly settled back to the ground, then placed his glowing hands above and below the portal, bringing them together at a steady pace. A mind bending shriek emanated from within the portal, and for a moment Jay could swear that everything he looked at tasted blue. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come, and Omega watched as the glowing spheres in Jack’s hands fused the ragged hole in reality shut once more.

The Omega Man was right there when the blue light went out from Hampshire’s eyes, helped steady him as he collapsed onto all fours heaving deep, shuddering breaths. Jay was worried over the state of his friend’s health, when Jack turned to look at him, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Fook me, bruv,” Hampshire said breathlessly, “That was better than the night we did molly with those strippers.”

Relieved that the mage seemed to be alright, Omega rose and regarded Mazikawa intently, paying special attention to the softly glowing gem.

“Hey man, I know I said I wasn’t gonna push you or anything,” Jay began, indicating the stone fused to Kazuto’s hand, “But when we get back, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let Nicky check that thing out a little more in-depth; I’d like to know what the Hells just happened, and if you can do it again.”

Mazikawa nodded in dazed agreement, not sure what had happened himself, and Omega hauled Jack of Shadows back up to his feet.

“Okay, Jack, break time’s over,” The Omega Man said good naturedly, “If you’d be so kind as to Gate us back to the island, I’ll fire up the ol’ Cue Em Tee Ess when we get there so we can head on home; I’ve got two matches to wrestle, and a championship to win.”~]]> <![CDATA[CHAPTER 1B: Coming Home]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42793 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 21:39:41 -0800 Jenny Myst]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42793 CONTINUED FROM CHAPTER 1A: A LITTLE GASSY: We aren't so different, are we?
Link: CHAPTER 1A: A LITTLE GASSY: We aren't so different, are we?

The car rolled into a neighborhood that Jenny knew all too well. She choked back a gasp, and just continued to stare out the window. Her stomach rumbled from the snacks they stole, however. She had eaten too much too quickly.

SHE HATED WHEN THAT HAPPENED.

But hey, it beat a regimented meal schedule with the slop she had been eating for the last eight months. She would peel a tennis ball and eat it before eating that shit again.

After what felt like an entire calendar year had passed, Ash looked over at her friend.

"You sure you wanna do this babe? We can go to the strip, go shopping, those clothes are ratty and quite frankly...not fashionable."

Jenny nodded. "I have to do it, Ash. I have been waiting too long to do it."

Her friend smiled, and took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. "Okay, then. You'd know best."

Getting off the exit for NORTH LAS VEGAS, away from the glam and glitz of what the common person thinks of as "Las Vegas", they rolled into a now impoverished community that had more overgrown lawns and paint chipped houses than it did people to live in them. Hell, this place used to be nice once.

People ruined it.

This place used to be a sense of pride.

People ruined it.

They pulled onto the dirt and pebble laden street that Jenny once played on--fully paved. Weird how things can go to shit so quick.

Her eyes didn't focus on anything in particular. It all blended together. She just let the first world she ever knew roll by her in a kaleidoscope of drab colors. Until the car stopped.

She breathed hard, exhaling slow. She put her head down, looking at the floorboard.

SENTRA in white letters across the black mat.

When she looked up, she felt the bile rise in her throat. The front porch she used to sit on and watch the birds was now falling apart, the railing missing spokes and the top bent at an obtuse angle. The windows all had a film over them like a mucous covering. They didn't say much else to each other. Jenny heard the doors unlock. They both sat in silence for a few moments before the escapee pushed the door open with enough force to knock it off the hinges. She speed walked up to the dilapitated porch, not even being careful about where she stepped.

Maybe she would get caught and snap her ankle.

Could she be that lucky?

She reached out and grabbed the metal outer door, and gave it a tug. It opened. The inside door, however, was locked. After a few tugs, a snarl came over her face. She looked back at the car, where Ash had lit a cigarette. Turning back to the door, she cried out in a passionate bellow as she put all the force her 5 foot frame could muster into breaking the door down. When Ash entered the house, she was taken aback by the mess. There was clutter everywhere. It didn't look like whoever lived here moved out, it looked like a tornado came through and only hit the inside of the establishment. Jenny, however, was nowhere to be seen. Ash figured she would let her do her thing, not bother her. She took a few steps, her Doc Martins crunching some glass that was on the old wooden floor. She bent over and pictured of a picture frame, bringing it up to eye level. It was a young Jenny, her adoptive parents, and she was.....smiling. The whole family was. She turned the fading picture over. "THE SAMBUCA'S, AUGUST 21st, 2006."

She looked around at the old furniture, covered in dust. The overturned table and chairs, the papers covering the floor.

Was it left like this, or did........did Jenny do this?

No way, this was a decade of decay and probably took hours. Jenny had only been inside for 15 minutes.

Ash lit another Camel Crush 100 and made her way through what she assumed was once the living room. She was about to bend down and pick up a teddy bear she saw, covered in dust and laying on the floor, when she heard whast sounded like pissing. Water flowing. She cocked her head and tracked t he sound. Turning around, she walked down the hall way, towards the stairs that led to the bedrooms, she hear the sound was coming closer.

"Hello?! Jen?! Is that you babe?!" She said, the cigarette bouncing like a marionette between her rosy lips.

She continued to track the sound, her head looking forward and then turning quick to check behind her. Her boot stubbed on an empty object, and it bounced down the wooden floored hallway. A gas can.

WHAT THE FUCK?! Jenny then turned the corner, dumping gas out of the fresh container. Once it emptied, she tossed it aside.

"Jen? What the fuck?!"

"We need to go. Now." The two made their way outside, and Jenny had a big grin on her face.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you I was coming home, and I did...."

She smiled even wider.

"I needed to come back, to see it again. Smell it, feel it, even taste it."

"You licked the walls?"

"Don't judge me."

"Now.......I get to watch it burn."

She took the cancer stick from her friends mouth and flicked it behind her, incinerating the gas and setting her child hood home ablaze.

"Come on, we only have a few minutes before the firefighters are all over this like flies on shit."

They walked to the car, getting in. Driving away, they got a safe distance before pulling into a Quick Stop to watch the action.

"You know, it was a beautiful place."

"Sometimes, Ash......you have to see beauty in the flames."

We set this house on fire forgetting that we live within.

*blushing, hand over her mouth*

"Wow. I have to say I am flattered. I never thought my words would have such an impact on a "legend" like you. Maybe my eight month absence--not three silly pants--has had a more profound impact than I thought. I mean, I have done battle with some bitches before, but none of them have bitched as much as you! You certainly do complain a lot about petty nonsense, but that also seems to be a trend around here these days. THOSE kind of trends are what are accepted far to much around here. Always have been, and it saddens me to see that they won't change."

*giggles, a big toothy smile overtaking the camera*

"I never thought someone like you, who has been through so much, who has seen so much, who has fought and beaten them all, would be so flustered over little old me. I mean, I AM insane, Cent, thats why I went away in the first place. I am glad you at least picked up on THAT! I have nothing to prove in this match. Nobody is giving me a shot. And even if I do get a shot, I get to become number one contender against Charlie Nickles and will have to spend my first paycheck on full body sanitizer just to be able to last 5 minutes with him. So, you can have him, that's all you boo boo. For me, this isn't about titles. It isn't about winning and losing. It isn't about establishing myself as a "legend" or making some sort of list. For me, this is a second chance at life. A second chance to prove to myself, if nobody else, that I am worth a dixie cup of piss in this place. I have accepted that I will never be on your "level", Cent, but you haven't seemed to accept that I am on the one that I am. You see, you claim I don't matter. You claim I exist, and that's it. Cute. But you failed to address perhaps your own biggest flaw......."

*gasps, bringing a fingerless-gloved hand to her face*

"But why on earth would you do THAT? Well its best to be honest with yourself. You're living in this delusional haze that everyone else has filled your head with, and you failed to realize just why you are the "forgotten legend" and not the posterboy for this place. Cent, you have all the talent in the world, buddy. You are good, you are very good. Perhaps, when you put your mind to it, the best we have. But nobody gives you the recognition daily that you seem to so desperately crave. Your accolades are buried in some list that nobody looks at--hell I had to give myself a screen-induced migraine just trying to find it--while the real "talent" is plastered all over our media pages and company website. You are relevant when they allow you to be, Cent. That doesn't make you great...it makes you a disappointment. It doesn't make you the predator, it makes you the prey.

I am glad you are confused by me, because it has been far too long of you being confused by yourself. Who are you? Do you even know anymore?"

*giggles*

"I don't think you doooooo......

So pompous, so arrogant. A cliché? A gimmick? Hell, I may be forever stuck in a Halloween costume but at least I have changed myself up a bit, done something fresh. Cent, I called you boring because you are. I didn't do it to be edgy or controversial. I did it because you are. Always will be. Me? I am bat shit crazy but at least it is entertaining. You? You're almost too normal. Blech. Have a little adventure, live a little, loosen up that tie, unbutton those cuff links. Live a little, Cent. Life is far too short."

*giggles that turns into a snarl, lip curl*

"You wanna know why Main and Caedus and Cory and Duke are so successful? What sets 'legends' like them apart from 'legends' like you? Because they are a tank, they just keep coming, they bury their opponent in a combination of "I don't give a fuck" and "fuck you". Nothing shakes them, throws them off their game. Every trick in the book has been thrown at them, but they are Teflon. You? You get flustered. You have proven that your skin is thinner than Tara Reid, Cent. Little old me has you all rattled. It has your panties more in a bunch than the Myst house on laundry day. You are going to try to have me black balled for a poop joke? My goodness Cent, who is the childish one now? Who is the one with the fragile male ego that can't take a little ribbing, but has to dish it ten fold to make himself feel better about....well....himself......

You get so upset. Your face was as pink as my nail polish. So for the sake of pissing you off more because it is just so....so fun....."

You keep hammering home the point that I will never be more than a mid-card nobody. I will never be what you are. That I am a...what did you call me...a "lurker" whose "bored"? Looking to cause violence for no reason. A lost, broken soul? Cent, you keep hammering home that I am not you, but I ask myself, do I really want to be? I wanna be happy, not miserable! The boring one calling me bored! What a revelation! Don't deflect, Cent. It's not cute.

You're so upset about Mark Flynn, or some dude who calls himself War Criminal? I don't know who these people are. They work here?! Obviously, they matter more to you than they do to me. That loss still stings doesn't it? Awww...

You're entire life revolves around how good you've been told you are. All I hear is belts this, legends that. Kill to switch careers? PUH-LEEZE. I have made my mark here, and I am more in people's recent memory than you. Living there. Rent-free. This is what have you done for me lately business. And lately? What HAVE you done except for beat up on those "also-rans?" Where are the big matches? The main events? The headlining of Pay Per Views? You're facing me somewhere in the middle. If I am the peanut butter you're the jelly, Cent. See, we aren't so different! But in a way...we are.....

I don't care about my image, like I said. I don't care about making some list. I don't care about being remembered, that was Chaos's thing. And a you thing, apparently. You marks are all the same. You reference Final Fantasy at the end of your promos because that is all you are now, all your career has become, a fantasy world. You are hoping it is the final one....but every time they keep dragging you back to beat up on someone like me so they don't have to put you in the matches that matter. You're filler talent, Cent! Don't you see that?! You're the elderly family member they invite to the party because they feel guilty and hope that he sits in the corner and stays quiet the whole time. But you don't, do you? You shake your fist at these hooligans before shitting your pants between doses of apple sauce and Ambien. You brag about all of these things you've done, but need a list full of people that nobody here shorter than a decade even fucking remembers!

We aren't historians, Cent, we just want to go to work and have fun! What are you now?

You aren't the Universal Champion.

You aren't the X-Treme Champion.

You aren't the Super Interconinental Champion.

Hell you aren't even TV champion, and you'll probably lose to Charlie next week!

You aren't even the Anarchy Champion.

You're nothing.

You certainly love gold for someone who doesn't have any.

And you really think I pay attention to this shit? You're the one who said you dug up years worth of info on me, only to come out and tell me the same time shit you tell everyone else. I am not as good as you. We get it Cent, you love you some you.

Yawn.

I don't come into the match with high expectations. That way, the only thing I can be is pleasantly surprised by the outcome. I am pretty sure that IF you were to lose to me, your entire world would come crashing down around you. If I beat you......well, yay! It's fun, but it's not a crowning achievement for me. It is a win-win, ya see. If I win, I beat a 'legend', if I lose, well, I was SUPPOSED to. If you win, you can pat yourself on the back and tell yourself some more how good you are, and if you lose.........

Well........

Will I have to bring back Queen's Court for a Centurion retirement party?! OOHH! That would be a blast! I don't expect to win this match. I don't expect to be held in the same light as you. I know I haven't been here long enough to have earned the same respect you have by the same people you have. I know that in the ring you're the better wrestler. But where I have ya--we both act on emotion. You get so bent out of shape. Hell, I am a woman, I am SUPPOSED to. But I suppose that is sexist, too?

Oh poop.

Wait....

I can't say that apparently.

Centurion, word police, reporting for duty!

You would think someone who has been here as long as you, faced as many people as you, would have heard some more insane shit than 'girls don't poop.' I mean, really? The best you can come up with is the cancel culture angle? And you say I am the one with the overused gimmick......

Sheesh.

I love my island Cent. It is where I feel the most comfortable. I have a bird house where I feet the crows. It's nice. Quiet. Peaceful. Serene.

You should visit some time. I'll make daiquiris!

You can be a legend all you want. But a list doesn't define you. A legend is an opinion, it is seniority, and it is how you are remembered.

Technically, Barney Green is a legend.

Ghost Tank is a legend.

Chris Chaos is a legend.

Peter Gilmour (whoopies, was I not supposed to say his name?!), is a legend.

A legend is whatever the people viewing them think it is. To some they are, to others they aren't. That is the beauty of being an opinion.

And what do THEY all have in common?

They're all, right now, in this day and age, January 29th 2022, more relevant than you.

Teehee.

So you can be the legend all you want. You can hold yourself to whatever standards you want. You can beat me like you're supposed to and move on to bigger and better things like facing Nickles on Savage. You can continue to flaunt your win loss record and how many belts you have won. You can keep holding yourself on that pedestal. Me? Hell, I'm just here for the snacks. And maybe a tee shirt.

Does the gift shop sell Care Bears?!

Okay, maybe we are different.....See you tomorrow. MUAH."

]]> CONTINUED FROM CHAPTER 1A: A LITTLE GASSY: We aren't so different, are we?
Link: CHAPTER 1A: A LITTLE GASSY: We aren't so different, are we?

We set this house on fire forgetting that we live within.

*blushing, hand over her mouth*

*giggles, a big toothy smile overtaking the camera*

*gasps, bringing a fingerless-gloved hand to her face*

*giggles*

*giggles that turns into a snarl, lip curl*

Okay, maybe we are different.....See you tomorrow. MUAH."

]]> <![CDATA[My Precious]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42796 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 20:53:21 -0800 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42796

Where once was light
Now darkness falls
Where once was love
Love is no more

We slowly fade into a shot of Charlie Nickles staring down his own reflection in a pond of water. He sits alone in a dark clearing encircled by pine trees. The moonlight is all that illuminates our notorious antagonist. Tears run down the man’s face like falling rain as he recounts the mistakes and failures of his past.

You will not rest in peace, Goldi…..I promise I will bring you back long before you ever get the chance to rest.

He TOOK you from meeeee….

Charlie shakes his head in disgust. He sneers into the water at his own reflection.

God’s plan for us, Goldi…God’s plan for us is nothing but horseshit! I don’t give a rat’s ass about HIS plan for US…..I’m forging a new destiny for us, Goldi….I’m building us a new home outside the shade of the Lord’s tree. I’m building us a new home out of blood and bone. A home fit for a QUEEN, a home fit for MY QUEEN! I can’t wait for you to come back and see it, Goldi.

Charlie reaches into the tall grass near him and lifts Morbid Angel’s book of undeath up out of the foliage. The moonlight reflects off the sinister face on the front of the tome.

I’ve been talking to my new friend, Goldi, and he has answers for us. My new friend tells me that we don’t need God because HE has the answers we need! We made a deal, Goldi, a deal to get you back. I just want you to be back with me, you are so precious to me.

Charlie looks up from the pond water and into the moonlight above. He pictures the spirit Goldilocks there with him, looking up at the same moon from the ethereal realm. Charlie would do anything to bring her back, anything at all......

[Image: ibNDRYm.jpg]

The screen cuts to a shot of a graveyard resting in perfect darkness. A variety of tombstones, both new and old, stand with dignity above their cold and unmoving namesakes. The only signs of life come from the grassy green lawn. Worms maw upon the rotting flesh of the fallen below the view of the camera. The night is still and peaceful.

The camera zooms in on the tombstones. The camera slowly moves from left to right once it is zoomed in, giving the audience just enough time to read the names as they slide on and off the screen.

BOB

Johnny Legend

Azrael Erebus

Jenny Myst

Osira Themis

Schism

Cage Coleman

Betsy Granger

Terry Borden

Elijah Martin

Ruby

Micheal Graves

The camera ceases its horizontal movement as it rolls across the last name. It slowly zooms out on a tombstone bearing the true name of The Dark Warrior. As the camera zooms out further we can see that it is standing above three unfilled graves.

All is peaceful…..

Until The Nickleman arrives.

A shirtless maniac steps in front of the camera with a 40 oz in his hands and a nice sag to his jeans. His bare feet are caked in dirt as is his heavy brown beard. His inebriation becomes more visible with every step he takes. He only stops stumbling once he drapes his body over the tombstone. Charlie’s mind floats to the sky with the spirits in the darkness as he guzzles down the rest of his malt liquor. Once the glass bottle is empty Charlie throws it into the center grave. We hear the sound of glass shattering as Charlie wipes away some dripping booze from his chin.

Deserves it! He does! Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life! And I will give it back to her…I promise.

Charlie stared off into the darkness as his broken soul cried out for golden love. The Nickleman was in the exact graveyard he had chosen for the PPV match, but he still felt completely lost.

Three souls for the price of one, Goldi. My new friend said that’s all it will take….

Charlie wipes a tear from his eye as he stares up into the night sky. A single star shines down upon The Nickleman in his hour of greatest need. The camera fades to black as Charlie silently gazes out into the vast emptiness of space.

[Image: 0011369_faithkeeper-dagger-of-the-knights-templar.jpeg]

[Image: 0011369_faithkeeper-dagger-of-the-knights-templar.jpeg]

Charlie Nickles is on his knees in the middle of a dingy garage. Tears have stained his cheeks and reality has shattered his fantasy. Morbid Angel presents an ornate knife to The Nickleman. Charlie looks at the knife, then up to Morbid. Our holy angel nods his head in affirmation, as if giving Charlie permission to grab the dagger. Charlie brings his hand up to the hilt of the knife and takes it from Morbid’s possession.

This blade was among the first crafted by the Knights Templar. It was blessed by Priests every step of the way while being forged. It is said that thousands of heretics felt it’s metal during the holy crusades. So much blood was spilled by this blade that the templars began to call it the Soul Taker. With this dagger, Charlie Nickles, you can win the goodwill of the Lord through the sinful souls you oh-so inevitably collect.

The Nickleman slowly rotates the dagger as he inspects it’s exquisite craftsmanship.

Mil-ihh-tum….X-wrist-tea?

It’s an old templar saying.

What’s it mean?

Soldier of Christ.

I’m not….I’m not sure this blade is meant for me.

The sinner looked up at the Angel with hopeless remorse and gut-wrenching regret.

It’s never too late to slaughter in the name of The Lord, Charlie. The path of the lightbringer is drenched in the blood of the vile. You can still be the XWF’s holy warrior.

But….why? What’s in it for me?

Charlie looked up at the Morbid Angel in a desperate search for answers and meaning. The soft tone of Charlie’s voice gave away his heart’s yearning for purpose. Nickles held his cold golden baby against his chest as he awaited the Angel’s response.

Through God all things are possible. The Dark Warrior’s tainted touch sent Goldi’s soul to the otherside. Not only is The Dark Warrior a patricidal pedophile, but he is perhaps the least skilled mage I have ever observed. It would take a miracle to bring Goldi back after such an arcane overcharge, and miracles like that can only come through God’s mercy. Earn his mercy, Charlie. Bathe in the light of the Lord as you wash yourself in the remnants of the wicked. Show God that you walk in his path and he will repay you a thousand times over.

Charlie brings the belt down to his lap and looks down at it with melancholy. He taps the TV championship’s center plate with the tip of the dagger. He wears the look of a broken man as he lifts his gaze back up to Morbs.

I think it is truly too late for me, old chap. Some of my wrongs can never be made right.

Your situation, Charlie- it reminds me of the Apostle Paul. He, too, had lived a life of sin: but then one day in the wilderness he saw God, and from thenceforth he walked along the holy path of light. Paul, a one-time heretic of the highest order, now a revered saint. The gospel of Paul shows us that transformation is always possible, Charlie, if you just have faith.

It’s clear to see that Charlie doesn’t look convinced. Morbid Angel pulls an occult tome out of his fresh-to-undeath all-black suit. He gestures for Charlie to follow him over to a nearby table.

Come, Charlie. There is something you should see.

Charlie rises to his feet with a knife in one hand and the belt in his other hand. Nickles walks over towards the large rectangular table as Morbid places the book on the wooden tabletop. Morbid opens the book up to a seemingly random page before pointing at some text in the middle of a paragraph. Charlie looks over Morbid’s shoulder with only minimal interest….

Until the flames come to life.

Morbid hastily withdraws his finger as an infernal enchantment takes hold of the book. Charlie pushes Morbid Angel out of the way as he sees a familiar figure dancing inside the fire….

GOLDI!!

[Image: az6Lhko.jpg]

But Back In The Graveyard, the only flame that exists is inside of Charlie’s heart…………

She's always hungry. She always needs to feed. She must eat.

Charlie states to nobody in particular as he sits on the ground with his back resting against the Graves tombstone. Three empty burial plots lay in front of the shirtless Nickleman as he runs his hands through his uncombed hair.

It’s the only way to bring her back to me.

Charlie shakes his head from side to side as he clenches his hands into fists.

How many more souls must I trade for my precious?! Three more, three more they say!

Charlie continues to shake his head from side to side as he runs his fingers back through his unwashed matts of hair.

He did this to himself! He can’t blame me for how far I take things! I’m still The Family Man, and a family man has to protect his woman! He has to fight for her! He has to KILL FOR HER!

Souls, souls, souls must be collected FOR her!

I must! I must! There is no other choice….

He will bend the knee and TREMBLE before me! He will stammer through an apology and offer me his fun-time fantasy pills, he will do and say anything to be spared….he’s already so, so scared of The Nickleman. He has nightmares about me, I know it, I can feel it in my soul at night…I can feel it in this very graveyard….I’m thinking of him, and he’s thinking of me, but our thoughts…..ohhhhhh they couldn’t be more different….but still, every single thing he’s thinking I’m thinking…

I can see the AXE! I can feel it in my very hands.

Charlie brings his hands out in front of his chest like he’s holding the hilt of a two-handed weapon.

AND HE SWINGS THE INVISIBLE WEAPON THROUGH THE AIR!

Don't worry kiddos, I won't let daddy hurt himself!

Not before I have the chance to do it first!

The Nickleman’s chapped lips curl into a sadistic grin as he relaxes his hands and brings them down to his lap. He slowly turns his head so as to face the now zooming in camera.

I’ve spent my whole life turning my body into a weapon- and no matter how hard they tried to break me, my mind never crumbled. Even when Demos stole my body I was still there in the back of his cerebral cortex…

Charlie places his right palm on the lower half of the back of his head. He then squeezes tightly.

I was there, watching, planning, plotting my return! My mind has become as sharp a weapon as my body. I am always ready for war: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I will never step away from the conflict.

I know who I am and I know what I want- but most importantly of all, I know how to get it. I know that I can only live the life I want to live through unrepentant bloodshed. I never flinch or second guess myself, I never hesitate on the battlefield. I don’t look away when I’m standing on the wrong side of the long barrel.

Graves crossed the wrong man this time…and he is not prepared for the carnage I’m going to bring to his door.

Graves had to have his mind broken before he could be turned into a weapon. Now it’s time for the Nickleman to repeat this process of breaking Graves down and transforming him into something more useful. The Dark Warrior must fall, just as all other challengers have fallen before me: but when this final challenger falls he will they will be REPURPOSED, ohhhh yessss.

Charlie reaches into his waistband and pulls out the ornate dagger bearing the markings of the Templar Order. He twirls it around in his hand with a sick smile. He places the tip of his left pointer finger on the end of the dagger and lets it poke through the skin. Charlie cackles softly as he pulls his finger back and ‘sanitizes’ the wound by licking it.

In the blood there are traces of our soul. Once I break the Dark Warrior into bits and pieces it will be simple enough to collect his fragmented soul. If I scrounge together enough loose flesh and read meat, then surely I can find a sage to reconstruct this cretin’s soul for consumption. Goldi NEEDS it….she’s hungry, and she needs to find her way back home!

Charlie runs his hands through his matted hair again as tears begin to stream down his face. Charlie just can’t get a hold of himself as the tears flow from his eyes like a rushing river. A small pool of tears begins to collect on the ground near the Nickleman’s feet…..

Charlie didn’t know what to make of the man he looking at him through the tearry pond…

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Morbid Angel slammed the infernal book of undeath shut. The flames immediately turned to ash as the Angel forced the book’s covers to meet. Charlie’s jaw dropped with shock at Morbid’s sudden action.

WHY DID YOU DO THAT? She was finally here again!

I called upon the power of God so that you could peer into the otherside- but it is best not to keep that gate open for too long. Every second we bring an ethereal soul back into this realm we run the risk of other spirits coming through. With God’s might, however, we may well be able to bring her back for good!

No, bring her back now! She was here, I was talking to her! So what if she’s made of fire?! I’ve dated redheads before! I just want my lovely Goldi back!

It’s not that simple, Charlie…

Morbid Angel slides the book off the table and tucks it back into his suit jacket. Charlie looks at him with a furrowed brow and a nasty sneer.

It seems like it really is that simple! Just open the book back up and let Goldi come back through!

Morbid Angel uses his hand to wave away the ridiculous notion. Charlie looks on with a clearly disgruntled demeanor.

We have to be patient, Charlie. God has a plan and we must follow it to bear the fruit of his trees.

Plan?! Plan?! How can it be God’s plan for Graves to kill Goldi through magical malpractice?! That’s fucking absurd!

The Lord works in mysterious ways…

Charlie slammed his fists on the table in frustration as Morbid sang the age-old tune of the faithful.

You promised to put Goldi in a woman’s body, but now you have nothing but excuses! Goldi was sent to purgatory by a wanna-be axe murderer and you’re telling me we can’t do anything about it!

We can EARN the Lord’s favor.

I need her back NOW, god damn it, and if God won’t bring her back then I’ll have to do it myself!

Don’t be hasty! It’s not my fault that you couldn’t protect Goldi long enough for the ritual to take place!

Charlie rushed into Morbid’s personal space and pointed an accusatory finger into the holy man’s face.

DON’T YOU FUCKING SNAP AT ME!

Morbid raised his hands up innocently as he leaned back.

Easy now, Charlie. We’re all on the same side here. I’m just saying the only way to get Goldi back is to be patient. You just have to have patience.

No you don’t…..he’s lying….

Charlie brought his finger down as a look of confusion washed over his face. He looked around the room for the mysterious voice. Morbid placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as The Nickleman seemed to calm down.

There we go. It will all be okay if you just follow God’s plan for you.

God plans for you to fail……..God is working against you……….but I know how to save her soul…..

Charlie looked at Morbid Angel’s midsection. The voice seemed to be coming from inside of Morbid’s suit jacket.

You just need to get some rest, Charlie. You’ll think more clearly after a good night’s sleep. I’m sorry this didn’t go according to plan, but rest assured that we will get Goldi back if we just carry forward the Lord’s plan.

Don’t listen to the words of fools….LISTEN TO ME.

Charlie shook his head from side to side as he tried to get a grip of his senses.

This old man doesn’t know how to use me…….I am so much stronger than he will ever know……Let me HELP you….TAKE ME from him…..

Do you have a hotel or something, Charlie? I’m sure they probably got you something nice given your championship status.

Hotel? Uh, yeah…they got me a first floor room at the Super 8…..I…yeah, I think you’re right. I need to get some sleep. I just….I miss her, you know?

Of course you miss Goldi, but know that this is all part of the Lord’s plan. He wouldn’t put you through great trials without great rewards.

The Lord….is a BASTARD…….The Angel….is a FOOL…..let me HELP you….TAKE…..ME.

Why don’t you uh, why don’t you come stay in the room with me? You know, I could really use the company….

Morbid Angel looked around the garage he had been hanging out in and shrugged his shoulders.

Sure, why not? What’s the worst that could happen when you share a room with The Nickleman?

Morbid Angel placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as he guided him back to the dingy motel. While Morbid was busy trying to convince Charlie that God’s plan was going to work out, Charlie was busy listening to the whispers and plotting his next move before the PPV…….

]]>

Where once was light
Now darkness falls
Where once was love
Love is no more

We slowly fade into a shot of Charlie Nickles staring down his own reflection in a pond of water. He sits alone in a dark clearing encircled by pine trees. The moonlight is all that illuminates our notorious antagonist. Tears run down the man’s face like falling rain as he recounts the mistakes and failures of his past.

You will not rest in peace, Goldi…..I promise I will bring you back long before you ever get the chance to rest.

He TOOK you from meeeee….

Charlie shakes his head in disgust. He sneers into the water at his own reflection.

God’s plan for us, Goldi…God’s plan for us is nothing but horseshit! I don’t give a rat’s ass about HIS plan for US…..I’m forging a new destiny for us, Goldi….I’m building us a new home outside the shade of the Lord’s tree. I’m building us a new home out of blood and bone. A home fit for a QUEEN, a home fit for MY QUEEN! I can’t wait for you to come back and see it, Goldi.

Charlie reaches into the tall grass near him and lifts Morbid Angel’s book of undeath up out of the foliage. The moonlight reflects off the sinister face on the front of the tome.

I’ve been talking to my new friend, Goldi, and he has answers for us. My new friend tells me that we don’t need God because HE has the answers we need! We made a deal, Goldi, a deal to get you back. I just want you to be back with me, you are so precious to me.

Charlie looks up from the pond water and into the moonlight above. He pictures the spirit Goldilocks there with him, looking up at the same moon from the ethereal realm. Charlie would do anything to bring her back, anything at all......

[Image: ibNDRYm.jpg]

Morbid Angel slammed the infernal book of undeath shut. The flames immediately turned to ash as the Angel forced the book’s covers to meet. Charlie’s jaw dropped with shock at Morbid’s sudden action.

WHY DID YOU DO THAT? She was finally here again!

I called upon the power of God so that you could peer into the otherside- but it is best not to keep that gate open for too long. Every second we bring an ethereal soul back into this realm we run the risk of other spirits coming through. With God’s might, however, we may well be able to bring her back for good!

No, bring her back now! She was here, I was talking to her! So what if she’s made of fire?! I’ve dated redheads before! I just want my lovely Goldi back!

It’s not that simple, Charlie…

Morbid Angel slides the book off the table and tucks it back into his suit jacket. Charlie looks at him with a furrowed brow and a nasty sneer.

It seems like it really is that simple! Just open the book back up and let Goldi come back through!

Morbid Angel uses his hand to wave away the ridiculous notion. Charlie looks on with a clearly disgruntled demeanor.

We have to be patient, Charlie. God has a plan and we must follow it to bear the fruit of his trees.

Plan?! Plan?! How can it be God’s plan for Graves to kill Goldi through magical malpractice?! That’s fucking absurd!

The Lord works in mysterious ways…

Charlie slammed his fists on the table in frustration as Morbid sang the age-old tune of the faithful.

You promised to put Goldi in a woman’s body, but now you have nothing but excuses! Goldi was sent to purgatory by a wanna-be axe murderer and you’re telling me we can’t do anything about it!

We can EARN the Lord’s favor.

I need her back NOW, god damn it, and if God won’t bring her back then I’ll have to do it myself!

Don’t be hasty! It’s not my fault that you couldn’t protect Goldi long enough for the ritual to take place!

Charlie rushed into Morbid’s personal space and pointed an accusatory finger into the holy man’s face.

DON’T YOU FUCKING SNAP AT ME!

Morbid raised his hands up innocently as he leaned back.

Easy now, Charlie. We’re all on the same side here. I’m just saying the only way to get Goldi back is to be patient. You just have to have patience.

No you don’t…..he’s lying….

Charlie brought his finger down as a look of confusion washed over his face. He looked around the room for the mysterious voice. Morbid placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as The Nickleman seemed to calm down.

There we go. It will all be okay if you just follow God’s plan for you.

God plans for you to fail……..God is working against you……….but I know how to save her soul…..

Charlie looked at Morbid Angel’s midsection. The voice seemed to be coming from inside of Morbid’s suit jacket.

You just need to get some rest, Charlie. You’ll think more clearly after a good night’s sleep. I’m sorry this didn’t go according to plan, but rest assured that we will get Goldi back if we just carry forward the Lord’s plan.

Don’t listen to the words of fools….LISTEN TO ME.

Charlie shook his head from side to side as he tried to get a grip of his senses.

This old man doesn’t know how to use me…….I am so much stronger than he will ever know……Let me HELP you….TAKE ME from him…..

Do you have a hotel or something, Charlie? I’m sure they probably got you something nice given your championship status.

Hotel? Uh, yeah…they got me a first floor room at the Super 8…..I…yeah, I think you’re right. I need to get some sleep. I just….I miss her, you know?

Of course you miss Goldi, but know that this is all part of the Lord’s plan. He wouldn’t put you through great trials without great rewards.

The Lord….is a BASTARD…….The Angel….is a FOOL…..let me HELP you….TAKE…..ME.

Why don’t you uh, why don’t you come stay in the room with me? You know, I could really use the company….

Morbid Angel looked around the garage he had been hanging out in and shrugged his shoulders.

Sure, why not? What’s the worst that could happen when you share a room with The Nickleman?

Morbid Angel placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as he guided him back to the dingy motel. While Morbid was busy trying to convince Charlie that God’s plan was going to work out, Charlie was busy listening to the whispers and plotting his next move before the PPV…….

]]> <![CDATA[Surveying lost time Part 3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42795 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 20:52:02 -0800 Marf]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42795

December 19th, 2021, The Narrow Longue

Marf is once again slumped at the tiny bar of the Narrow Longue. Fast Eddie walks over to him to attempt to get him to leave since it is the end of the night. He approaches his new favourite customer while jingling his keys in his left hand. Marf raises his head slightly and looks up at Fast Eddie. He takes a slow look around and notices the place is completely empty other than the two of them.

C’mon mate, the night has escaped us once again. How ‘bout a ride to the bus stop fella?

Marf eyes the overweight bartender while staying completely still. Fast Eddie fumbles with his keys and winds up dropping them. While he bends over to scoop them up, Marf suddenly springs to life and flies over the counter. He surprises Fast Eddie and holds him in a tight headlock while wrenching the keys away from him.

Sorry pal, nothing personal…actually, fuck that, it’s a little personal. Were you auditioning for a shitty movie role as the wise, fat fuckin’ barkeep? Learn to just shut the fuck up once in a while, Christ…

Marf drags Fast Eddie along as he makes his way out of the quaint little bar that had never seen this type of drama before. Marf kicks open the front door and pulls Fast Eddie through and they exit to the parking lot. With only one car in the entire lot, Marf has an easy time finding Fast Eddie’s car. Marf makes his way over, still dragging him along. He opens the trunk and throws Fast Eddie inside. Marf stares down at Fast Eddie in the trunk except his face has once again changed. Staring back at him is Damien’s face instead. Marf stumbles back for a second in shock and then shakes his head in disbelief and goes to slam the trunk close.

Locking me in here and running from your problems yet again? They’re gonna catch up to you sooner or later…

Marf shuts the trunk quickly and makes his way into the driver’s seat. He slams the door and starts up Fast Eddie’s car. As he begins to pull out of the parking lot he pauses as he can still hear inaudible yelling from the trunk of the car. Marf closes his eyes and questions himself briefly before turning around and opening them. He jumps as he sees Damien now sitting in the passenger seat beside him.

Where we headed, boss?

Marf snarls in response and turns back to the road, finally pulling out of the lot and speeding off. He does his best to ignore what he believes to be a stress induced apparition seated next to him as the snow begins to come down heavily all around the speeding car. Annoyed at being ignored, Damien grabs Marf’s head and slams his face off the steering wheel. Marf’s nose explodes with blood while he swerves and winds up off road.

…the fuck!?

You can’t run forever…

Marf desperately fights with the wheel but it’s too late as he skids through the snow. The car knicks the side of a large tree trunk before spinning and colliding with a snow bank. The angle causes the car to flip up in the air and then rolls several times before landing against another tree. Marf manages to unbuckle his seatbelt and slowly crawl out the broken windshield. He goes to stand up but collapses in the snow with his vision blurring. Marf pulls himself back up and looks shocked.

The snow has turned into sand and dirt. The trees were now replaced by the coliseum. The furious snow storm was now simply a pissed off dragon. Marf gives his head a shake while getting up, standing with the other two gladiators about to get deep fried. The dragon stands still directly in the middle of the huge arena. Behind him the massive doors remain open and Marf notices they are not being closed. The beast growls from deep within it’s belly and some smoke escapes through the dragon’s nostrils.

Follow me, stay close to it so you don’t get burned!

Why are we taking orders from you?

Shut up and move! I dunno why but I trust him with everything!

…..tap the brakes, Jesus…

The three gladiators race up to the dragon as it just misses them with a burst of flames. They each take a swing and hit it in the leg before ducking and moving to the other side of the huge beast. They are able to copy this maneuver twice more before the dragon roars and swings it’s mighty tale. They all manage to dive out of the way just in time. The female gladiator is up first and immediately takes off towards the massive doors that are still open. Marf in the other gladiator look at her go in shock.

The fuck are you goin!?

She keeps beating her feet while yelling back to him.

Sorry, I’m a shitty coward and I do shitty, cowardly things! It’s not you it’s me! Good luck and fuck you!

What the fuck!?

Shit, I kinda wanted to fuck her after all this…ah well, bros before hoes right?

Marf looks over in disgust as the male gladiator puts a hand on Marf’s shoulder ever so tenderly. Fuuuuuck this!Marf turns and uses his sword to slash the gladiator from his wrist to his elbow in one quick motion. The man stumbles backwards, holding out his arm while blood quickly flows from the gaping wound. He cries out in horror and falls to his knees while the dragon stops and looks down at him. It stops his screams short once a burst of flames engulf him. The crowd loses their minds yet again and it is deafening.

Marf uses the distraction to climb up the dragon using it’s scales. No sooner has the beast melted the other gladiator into crispy fried shit when Marf raises his sword and jams it into the dragon’s head with all his force. The monster at once begins roaring and shooting off short bursts of flames, sending fire balls into the psychotic crowd. Marf rolls down the side of the dragon and makes a run for the open doors. The beast shoots off one last, long stream of flames that basically lights the entire coliseum on fire before it succumbs to the death blow. Marf dives through the doors just as an earth rattling explosion goes off.

Fuck medieval times…

As Marf starts to pull himself up he shivers, realizing he is covered in snow now. He has to blink a few times and really look around before his vision helps him understand where he is. Back in the snow, back in Vancouver. As he surveys the flipped, mostly destroyed car he comes across the trunk. It is ajar and as Marf comes around it he can see inside. Fast Eddie is crumpled up inside, looking a helluva lot more like Dead Eddie. His body is slumped facing down but his head is completely turned around and facing Marf. The neck is clearly broken far beyond repair. The frozen grimace on Fast Eddie’s dead face begins to burn itself into Marf’s memory.

…What the fuck have I done?

Marf wastes no time as he pulls Fast Eddie’s broken body out of the trunk and moves it to the front of the car. Marf sets the body up in a way to make it look like a one person car accident. With the growing blizzard increasing, Marf doesn’t care about his foot prints, trudging away from the scene as we fade out.

~Fin~

A jail cell is freedom from the pain in my home.
Hatred passed on, passed on and passed on.
A world of violent rage,
But it's one that I can recognize.
Having never seen the color of my father's eyes.
Yes, I dwell in hell, but it's a hell that I can grip.
I tried to grip my family,
But I slipped.

To escape from the pain in an existence mundane.
I gotta nine, a sign, a set and now I gotta name.
Read my writing on the wall,
No-one's here to catch me when I fall.
Caught between my culture and the system, genocide!

Read my writing on the wall,
No-one's here to catch me when I fall.
If ignorance is bliss, then knock the smile off my face…

We can already hear the slow clap before Marf even comes into view. He looks exceptionally unenthusiastic despite his applause. Marf fakes a smile and gives a wave as we begin.

Well would ya fuckin’ look at that, my good buddy Johnny Cage Coleman actually showed up! And this motherfucker actually had the audacity to claim he doesn’t need to cut a promo. I mean don’t get me wrong, I as well as many others I’m sure definitely have no issues missing out on listening to you drone on for three and a half minutes. But give me a fuckin’ break, you fell into a fluke title reign for a belt you lost before they had even changed the name plate. You think one little promo about your brief accomplishment turned failure redeems you?

In case you just missed it, I said you fucking lost that title, right away. If you’re so good in the damn ring, you should still be holding the Xtreme title, not chasing it with two other guys well ahead of you in said chase. You should be working your fucking ass off to prove what you did wasn’t a fluke. That you deserve to even be a part of this match and this pay per view in general. You signed a contract to wrestle? Good for fuckin’ you, when do you intend on actually doing that? So far you surprised a guy in a hallway. When you decided to wrestle your reign abruptly ended.

Your first reign didn’t prove a fucking thing but keep believing pal, someone has got to. And it sure as hell isn’t going to be me, the fans or anyone else in the locker room. You’ve done more in two months than my entire tenure? Get fucked, you don’t have multiple title reigns. You weren’t in high profile matches with Alias, Doc, the Bastards or Betsy. You fluked your way to a shitty title run that was more disappointing than Dean Rose’s dirt on Jennifer Love Hewitt. And you’ve done NOTHING to change the perception that you’re miles out of your league. Just remember something fuckhead…

Marf leans closer because clearly this shit is serious.

I earned my opportunity for this match. You got dropped into it because they fuckin’ felt bad for you.

Marf makes a quick cutting motion as though to signal being done with poor Johnny Cage. Or whatever his name is. Who cares, it’s not like he’s wearing five hundred dollar sunglasses…Asshole.

Fuck that guy, I’m gonna talk about my pal Bam Bam. A guy worried about not getting noticed. Except, people did notice you Bam. You turned some heads when you beat Jimmy Caedus. I have no problem admitting that was a huge feat. My problem is how fast you pissed everything away. Have another beer and pour one out for your already dying career. Do you really think anyone else sees you as a runaway freight train coming into this match? Time to shake away those alcoholic fantasies loose Bam. You’re nothing more than a toy train, circling a nonexistent Christmas tree desperately waiting for a gift to be bestowed upon you.

You’re just another self entitled fuckwit, wasting space of the roster. Been a while since anyone has failed so spectacularly with a title but lucky for all of us, here you are Bam. I don’t know what’s more annoying about you, stealing shitty watered down beer slogans or stealing Charlie’s shtick. Oh sorry, you said Goldie instead of Goldi so it’s totally original. How many beers deep were you when you came up with that gem? And speaking of how many beers, how fucking plastered were you when you had the thought that the fans adore me!?

Marf can’t help himself and starts grinning at the humour of it.

I give you some props though, that was pretty fuckin’ funny. Almost as funny as you thinking this match is your story and your time to shine. Spoiler alert, you’re about to fall flat on your pimply face. There will be no redemption for Bam. All there will be is disappointment in your future. Disappointment from Chris Page. I can only assume he was plastered when agreeing to have anything to do with you. Disappointment from the Exiles that you’re out there dragging their name through the mud and shit. Disappointment from yourself because oh no, you failed again.

Uh oh, he’s leaning forward again shit must be getting serious.

And of course, disappointment from the fans. Because they had to actually sit and watch a grown man shit himself after yours truly dropped them on their fucking head. Drink up, Bam.

Marf makes a cheers gesture before sighing and now shaking his head.

And of course those two shitbags bring us to the top shitbag himself. Reggie, fuck man, for a fleeting second I thought I saw it there. A little bit of real fire in ya. But of course you immediately cooled it off when you went right back to the same old boring shit. Talking about my past and Lycana. Oh fuck, I said her name oh no. Fucking sue me. You claim you don’t give a shit Reg, but you managed to reference my times with her not once not twice but thrice! Seems to me you care quite a bit. And if that’s not the case, what could it be then?

Probably that you have no other god damn material. That’s all you fuckin’ got. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my final promo here will help bring out some actual rage from you. Then perhaps you will be able to stand toe to toe with me and back up your hollow words. Deep down you know you’re gonna need every weapon available to even have a chance at beating me. Make all the pointless wolf jokes you want Reg, they won’t save you or your title that I’m about to take. The Xtreme title has been tarnished enough from the three of you fuckboys.

Now I’m coming to take it. To save it from all of your mediocrity. To take as many pounds of flesh as I fucking feel like from all of you. To earn yet another win on pay per view in front of millions. Do any of you three even know what earn means? Fuck off, I don’t care! Because I’m walking into Fire and Ice to lay all three of your filthy carcasses on the mat and I’m walking out as the new fucking Xtreme champion. And the best part? I’m doing the whole damn thing by my fucking self. I dare any of you to try and fucking stop me.

Marf stands up while his chest is heaving and the blood is rushing through his veins. We fade out as he continues that famous sneer into the camera lens. ]]>

December 19th, 2021, The Narrow Longue

Locking me in here and running from your problems yet again? They’re gonna catch up to you sooner or later…

Where we headed, boss?

You can’t run forever…

~Fin~

Arpeggio

Part 3:
All Debts Come Due

RECAP
Last time, The Chameleon was continuing to experience various simulations related to their opponents before an abrupt incident caused the handlers in charge of them to cease the simulation and revert to less technological forms of imitative learning. One of these handlers, dubbed The Custodian, has allowed TC-01 to prepare for Corey on their own terms as he tends to the bureaucratic aftermath of firing a fling he shared a night with named Kristen Kyers. Darcy Ellis, the main overseer of simulative functions has ceased to have an immediate list of job orders following this incident.

The Chameleon must now begin the Herculean task of getting into the mind of someone who claims to not know himself. Perhaps the parallels run deeper than either of them could possibly comprehend.

BEFORE

The lazy beeping of the command console lulled Darcy into a slight daze. The trials she has studied for when dealing with this kind of specimen proved to be anything but accurate, especially given the kind of junk they were tossing at it. She glanced at the monitor hung above her once more, seeing some perverted escapade they had to put it through for "comprehensiveness."

She was certain the project director just wanted to see his "prized creation" get into some kinky shit.

Her eyes fluttered softly, barely capable of staying awake as this farce, in her professional opinion continued. It wasn't until the beeping became a full-on alarm that her difficulties in remaining aware evaporated entirely.

Diagnosis, Ms. Ellis!

With a panicked movement of her hands, she checked the many instruments in front of her, desperate for an answer, yet hesitant to vocalize anything to The Custodian, the official title of the project manager, who was hovering behind her.

We don't have time for nerves to cease your ability to function! Diagnostics. NOW!

I.. I don't know what's wrong. She muttered under her breath. The anxiety of the moment had a paralyzing grip on her, keeping her mind and body suspended where it sat.

Breathe.

Breathe, Darcy.

She shook herself free from the shackles of fear and analyzed the information as rapidly as possible. Everything led to one answer:

A recursive self-awareness.

It's retreating inward. Caught in a feedback loop that causes it to repeatedly focus on itself.

As she glanced back to see his reaction, she was shocked to find a hint of vulnerability in that man who she had only ever witnessed as a complete slate of confidence and professionalism. In his eyes was concern, though what for was unascertainable.

Turn it off.

I'm already starting the shutdown, but it's taking too long.

Open the door. The Custodian's words had an undercurrent of instability.

I-

Open the goddamn door! He cut her off, uninterested in her recital of any regulations or codes that might disagree with the order. With a trembling hand, Darcy pulled the lever that opened the chamber in case of emergency, the door scraping and shrieking against the metal frame that held it. The Custodian rushed into the room to retrieve The Chameleon who had passed out from the intensity of the feedback loop.

As he pulled its unconscious body out of the chamber, Darcy couldn't help but notice how... alive it seemed up close. The Custodian lifted himself up, dusting off his suit as a formality before inhaling to calm whatever cracked his composure and swallow it as far down as it could travel.

What now? Darcy questioned, still shaky from having watched the most important part of this project nearly collapse in on itself seemingly. With a wave of his hand, The Custodian seemed to swat her concerns aside.

Clearly, we improvise.

NOW

The Chameleon stared upward at the ceiling to their room. Each detail, both physically on the metal of the ceiling that rested above them and those only caused by tricks of the flickering, inadequate lighting implemented inside the chambers. The bed was stiff, resistant to conforming to their body in even the slightest of ways. Stagnant and unchanging, regardless of whatever sheets lay atop it.

There was a discomfort to viewing the mattress in that manner. A chilling implication that The Chameleon placed to the side in their mind. Getting to their feet, they stepped towards the bathroom provided to them, seeing their masked face through the mirror. The way the mask and the plane of glass stood in front of them and reflected each other was profoundly intriguing. Each copy of the image was replicated off of the other and into its opposite counterpart.

Infinitely inward and out.

An abyss of self.

A realization overcame them. They had worn the mask rather consistently for the past few days, losing themself in the minds of others with not so much as a visage to call their own. With a steady hand, The Chameleon brought their hand to the base of their mask, curling fingers beneath it and preparing to lift upwards. They needed to know.

To be sure there was a still a face underneath it all.

A loud knock at the door interrupted their concentration, pulling them away from the mirror and towards the door that led out of this small personal chamber and into The Facility proper.

They tapped a careful finger on the keypad to the side of the frame, watching as the hydraulics split the metal divider in two and revealed the person standing on the other end.

Darcy Ellis.

She was a bit short for being in her mid 20s, barely overcoming five foot, six. Wordlessly, she stood there, seeming to be in slight shock of her presence in front of them in the first place. With a breath, she shuffled some of her light coffee colored hair out of her otherwise pale face. After a few awkward attempts to speak that she snuffed out, Ellis finally found the words clinging to the inside of her throat.

Um, hi.

Hello. The Chameleon responded, still curious about what her presence truly meant. Am I needed for another test?

Oh, no, no. Darcy shook her head, dismissing the thought entirely.

I'm the person who checks up on your various subprocesses and states of learning, plus a whole lot of other super technical stuff when you're simulating. Y'know, it's actually a lot to get-

She cut herself off, cursing under her breath as she prattled on, clearly feeling ashamed of talking to what she could best assume was some sort of incredibly complex toaster oven.

That's beside the point. My-uh... job is to check up on you, basically. gulping, she ignored the embarrassment of talking to this thing as though it were a real person, but equally unable to approach it in a more sterile procedure.

How are you feeling?

The Chameleon tilted their head at the inquiry, finding the prospect of answering such a question rather daunting.

I'm fine.

Just fine.

You sure? Yesterday was pretty crazy. We don't have you hooked up to anything, so my best guess, if there is something wrong with you, can only come from you telling me if there is, okay?

She didn't know. It was a naiveté The Chameleon envied.

Of course, there was something wrong with them.

You don't end up in a place like this if you're well.

I assure you that everything is okay. They brought a hand near the keypad once more, primed to close the door and end the conversation there. But before they could ask Darcy if she could leave, she noticed something on The Chameleon's neck. A scrunched bit of the mask, revealing nothing underneath, but enticingly close to presenting even the slightest bit of their face. A hand of hers reached out to grab onto the area where the mask was easiest to remove only for The Chameleon to intervene with two raised fingers blocking her trajectory.

She gulped slightly, a self-conscious redness growing in her cheeks. The Chameleon couldn't blame her for the attempt. They hadn't seen much of her, but they knew that she had initially delved into the sciences for the sake and discovering the mysterious and uncharted.

And what is more curious than someone who rejects identity? It made sense why she reached.

But she still couldn't be allowed to look.

I'm sorry, but that's something I'd like to keep private. She nodded her head and left The Chameleon to their devices, watching silently as the door clanked shut, the two pieces meeting in the middle once again.

Well, so much for learning about it, Darcy. Great work there.

Kicking the wall in frustration, only to have her stubbed toe send a shock of pain up her body as she swore out loud. Grumbling, she hobbled her way down to where she really needed to have a chat. This whole "talk with the specimen" idea was idiotic and she was well aware of how dumb it truly was. But still, there was something strange about all of this.

Something Ellis needed to get to the bottom of.

After a few more long strides, she had arrived at her destination: The Office of The Custodian. Taking a deep breath, she scanned her Facility ID on the terminal next to the door and entered to see him sitting in front of her, busy at filling out some necessary papers at his rather unremarkable desk. His head didn't move an inch to recognize her, merely announcing her presence as he saw her out of his peripheral vision.

Ms. Ellis. What brings you here at this time?

A couple things, actually.

Lifting his head for the slightest second to make his disappointment in being interrupted known, he gave a gruff sigh before the next words escaped him. My time is increasingly precious. Perhaps you could forego wasting it and merely state your points.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt slightly, gulping as she approached the subject mentally and then vocally.

I'm, uh, I'm concerned with your treatment of female employees on this project.

And why is that exactly?

Well, you've repeatedly used your position to sleep with several women who were working here. And then you promptly fired each one. That seems incredibly exploitative, and I know where we're getting funded from and who to go to if I need some reassurance that I won't be targ-

The Custodian spoke up to interrupt her, shaking his head with a twinge of disappointment. You misunderstand me, Ms. Ellis. None of those women were individuals who I came to for... certain carnal pleasures.

His choice of words sent shivers up Darcy's spine.

And not the nice kind.

They had approached me for such purposes. Furthermore, you needn't worry about feeling pressured into such acts with me. I have absolutely no interest in it.

Well, that's wonderful. I'll just take your word for it. She snipped sarcastically.

If I provide a further explanation, will that satisfy your concerns?

Darcy shrugged, taken aback slightly, but willing to hear what he felt like describing. Sure.

The Custodian cleared his throat and asked a question to the air. Why do people pay thousands of dollars for fine dining, Ms. Ellis?

Rolling her eyes, Darcy gave an annoyed sigh before cutting through his constant metaphorical nonsense.

I'm not here to wax philosophical, I'm here to tell you that if I don't feel safe, I'm going to our equivalent of HR.

It's indulgence.

What?

Food- sustenance is a necessary portion of being human, however the desire to take pleasure of a required act is indulgence. Those women are largely the same to myself. Temptresses toiling about with such inefficiency and idiocy that they become completely irrelevant to the completion of this project.

Wait, what are you trying to say?”

The Custodian huffed an aggravated breath, frustrated at her inability to understand his point.

Allow me to put this into terms you, of all people, will understand: Sex with those women was indulgence. The concept of laying with you itself is to consider eating the mud pigs bathe in. They are meat. You are slop. But you are particularly talented slop, so if you could cease wasting my time to try and satisfy your ego, I have paperwork to finish.

Darcy sank a little where she stood. Yeah, it was nice to know he wasn't interested, but his dehumanizing rhetoric wasn't particularly reassuring.

I have one more thing to bring up.”

Do it, then leave. I have grown tired of your presence already, Ms. Ellis.

Yeah, join the club, asshole.

Is The Chameleon... alive? Like, a person?”

He paused his work, calculating an answer for a few passing moments.

I don't see how that is relevant.

...What?! If we're doing... all this to somebody, that's an incredible breach of scientific ethics! We're not talking about just teaching a robot or something but reprogramming a human being! Doesn't that seem wrong to you?”

The Custodian lifted his head from the desk, gazing with the intensity of a thousand hot needles into Darcy's soul.

I am the father of this project, Ms. Ellis. The ethics have been considered and thoroughly regarded. We will proceed as we have and if you are so terribly concerned about them, then you may simply to speak to them again.

How did you-”

It's my job. Go do yours out of my sight.

With a final lowering of his head, The Custodian returned to his forms, leaving Darcy to backpedal out of the office and step towards one of the common rooms, exhausted from even a fleeting moment with the project director.

ELSEWHERE

Sat with her legs crossed in the office of The Boston Tribune, Kristen Kyers pulled her cigarette to her lips, inhaling the slightly oaky tasting tobacco until it filled her entire chest, expelling it with a single unbroken breath outward. The Editor-in-chief of The Tribune, Jonas Avery clearly didn't appreciate her puffing away indoors, but he was willing to humor her poorer choices with the story she had abruptly dropped in his lap.

Let me get this straight: This facility is underneath Boston? And funded by the federal government?

Mhm.

Her claims were… dubious at the best of times, but the photos she provided as well as other documents reinforced these strange claims.

Still, it smelled of a low effort hoax only worth tabloid coverage.

I don't know, Ms. Kyers. You seem awfully nice and all, but isn't it a little unbelievable that the U.S. Government is funding some weirdo's pet project whose main purpose is to wrestle?

I know it sounds odd, but if you really think I could fake everything there, you go ahead and toss me out now. She flicked some of the ash of his cigarette into an empty, nearby mug, much to the chagrin of Avery. His fingers flicked through the file she handed him once again, seeing too many consistent details to pass up on the opportunity for a story this big. He pressed a button on his outdated phone sat upon his desk, calling a certain someone to his office.

Alright, I'll have one of my guys look into it, but we want exclusive rights to the story.

Deal. I know how much this is worth and I know I'll make a lot of money when all of this settles down, NDA be damned. That'll show that prick.

The office door creaked open, a rather unassuming man in a pair of slacks and a grey t-shirt, his thick beard protecting his face as he walked through to get a face full of “flavor,” as Kyers liked to euphemize it.

Well, boss, I didn't realize you partook in the odd cigarette here and there.

I don't.

Michael Stromback, meet Kristen Kyers. She's the whistleblower for this “Chameleon” story making its rounds around the building.

Oh. Mike gave a polite interest to his voice, as was customary when talking with a source. He glanced down at her puffing away. You know, I typically only smoke after sex. Do you?

Kristen gave a snide smirk before replying, Don't know. I never really checked.

Ignoring her quip, Michael walked over to check the file she had brought in, giving it an intrigued once over before glancing at Avery and remarking. So, this is all to create some sort of robot or android that copies others?

It's not a robot. It's a person.

The two men turned to stare at Kristen who snuffed out her cigarette at the bottom of the mug, a visible macabre expression as the words left her lips.

You gotta be kidding. What kind of person would sign up to do that to themselves?

I'm pretty sure it's a person... based on what I've gathered. But to answer your question.

She lifted up a fresh cig from the carton, opening her lighter with a flick of her wrist.

You'd probably have to hate yourself pretty bad.

THE FACILITY

Darcy made the long walk to one of the recreational areas in The Facility, each step a grim reminder of exactly what she had signed up for. Yet, a soft, gentle melody began to sound out over the hallways, reverberating outward. The closer she got to her destination, the more pronounced the music was until at the end of her journey was one person.

The Chameleon.

They sat at the piano, fingers gliding effortless across each ivory key, yet their gaze seemed fixated on their hands. As if they were trying to ensure that each note came out correctly.

With a few tepid steps, Darcy positioned herself next to The Chameleon on the piano's chair as they played.

It's... beautiful.

Thank you. It's only an arpeggio, however. A pattern of notes, played in a row. Like a line of people to walk across.

Where did you learn to play like that? I've never put you in a simulation where you would absorb that kind of skillset.

The Chameleon's perfect playing slipped up for a moment as they considered how to answer.

My father taught me.

Are you two close? She inquired.

Not anymore.

Their tune began to wind down, The Chameleon's hands resting on the instrument with a tenderness and a strange longing behind the mask. Darcy no longer cared if The Chameleon wasn't traditionally living or not. They seemed to be alive enough to her.

Who are you?”

The Chameleon tilted their hand to look at her before glancing downward somewhat.

Your guess is as good as mine.

WORDS
To satisfy Corey's inflated sense of ego

Aren't champions supposed to embody something?

Yeah, yeah, I know that's rich coming from everyone's agreed upon “least memorable Spider-Man villain,” but I'm being serious here. Typically, a champion is supposed to be top of their class or incredibly proficient and notable.

But Corey? He couldn't embody a full wax mold, let alone an ideal. But I get it, why does that really matter, though? Because he pretends to. Not just to the audience at home, but to himself.

Being snarky and going on inane tangents might be a ton of fun for you, Corey, but you're not going to smokescreen your way out of this one. You're not exactly fooling anybody with your words, but hey, if you can't lie to yourself, why bother lying at all?

Well, maybe because admitting the truth is just a little too scary for Core'.

I've had to hear so much about you. How untouchable you are. About the myth of Corey Smith, the boy who “lived,” if you consider dying and then being resurrected as a perpetual tool a “life.” But as The Chameleon, myths aren't really my specialty. Sure, they're nice if you want to blow smoke up your own ass, but reality is where the winners come home to roost. And the reality is that all debts come due and you've been accruing too low interest on your sins for far too long.

Time to practice some good ol' fashioned debt collecting.

But I hear you already, diving into the metaphysics of self or prattling on about how many people try to hold The Engineer and Lux over your head even though that's in the past, right? Corey, you and I both know they have nothing to do with this. There's a monster at the core of everybody, but only a select few have the monster on the outside, too. Need me to spell it out?

The claw marks at the foot of your bed were never The Engineer. It was always just you lurking underneath your bed. Do you think that personality popped out of nowhere into the minds of the most repugnant, disgusting face the XWF has ever known and “SC?” Not quite. They needed a groundwork. You.

And it's not like you were particularly hard to corrupt or anything, hell, you hung out with Thad Duke as a good old buddy until he started saying all the quiet stuff out loud! Wouldn't want that image to fall apart of the good, whitemeat babyface!

Emphasis on the “whitemeat” considering Dyson's involvement.

And while it would stellar if you just admitted it, you instead get lost in all of these fantastically, globetrotting adventures in worlds of complete fantasy. Anything to distract from that little voice in the back of your mind that reminds you what you really are. Don't believe me? Why do you think you're willing to use Engy's move when backed into a corner? It was never “his” move, Core', despite how you rationalize it.

You built this funhouse full of mirrors around you, all to twist perception, to rehabilitate your image and to confuse any discussion of the rotten little core in your chest. Sorry, kiddo, but the only mirror that matters will be looking right at you on the 30th and no amount of propagandizing is gonna stop that. Let's look at the way you talk to your opponents.

Quote:So, am I just afraid of the prospect of facing myself? Well, honestly, yeah, but not for the reasons you think. Because the fact is, I am tremendously insecure. Fun fact: I never watch ANY of my own matches. It’s kind of like that thing where everybody hates the sound of their own voice.

You admit you're scared, but you gotta keep the snark rolling past any real reasons you have to fear me, right? Wouldn't want to be a good guy who's earnest and inspiring, better to just spout a bunch of shit and hope people buy it. And you're a legendary manure salesman. Let's see another thing you said about me.

Quote:But hey, I'm not going to sit here and grouse forever. No. That's not me. But you know what is “me”? Winning. With style! So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to lay out exactly how I'm going to turn your advantage into mine. I'm gonna play the cards face up. And I'm still going to win.

WAIT, WAIT! That's not Corey, right? That's ENGY?!? Can't you tell how differently they sound and talk? No similarities here! I mean, sure, “Engy” wanted to make dark deals to cultivate some sort of worship for an old god, but Corey, alternatively, surrounds himself in a commune that basically exists to serve him.

Wait a moment... that doesn't sound very heroic.

Sounds insular and defensive. Like you need the rest of the world to get locked out so badly that you'll make as many devilish deals as required to expel reality from your field of view. Honestly, you're not the rejection of Madison's vision. You're its culmination. Its logical end point.

Hell, you're a better Engineer than that flamboyant one ever could be. He had the evil out in the open. Too easily targetable. Doesn't sell well on television, but you? You're a Dyson wet dream. All the same bad habits in a really presentable form. Like climate denialism from that one moron who said he'd drink Round-Up. You spent all this time finding new and improved ways to ignore your problems, each mirror in the funhouse distorting you further and further until you can't even recognize what you are anymore.

Well, almost.

You recognize it when I remind you. Everyone could tell how shook you got when you realized what I am and I what I'm about to show the world. The mighty Corey Smith being reduced to what he really is, a man with a million excuses. Death and destruction follows him at every intersection, but it's never his fault. He's got good intentions, right? Those bloodsoaked hands can wash some laundry, but they can't wash themselves.

So, get scared Corey. I'm one of the few people who can tell you that with quite the assuredness in my voice. I know what lurks around your heart and I'm not fooled by how presentable you try and make it. So, let's have fun out there Sunday night! And let's get the world to know the real Corey Smith and not the one that covers up every inadequacy with some long-winded diatribe about the nature of morality.

Let's shut up and rip the mask off. Yours first.]]>

Arpeggio

Part 3:
All Debts Come Due

BEFORE

NOW

ELSEWHERE

THE FACILITY

WORDS
To satisfy Corey's inflated sense of ego

Quote:So, am I just afraid of the prospect of facing myself? Well, honestly, yeah, but not for the reasons you think. Because the fact is, I am tremendously insecure. Fun fact: I never watch ANY of my own matches. It’s kind of like that thing where everybody hates the sound of their own voice.

Quote:But hey, I'm not going to sit here and grouse forever. No. That's not me. But you know what is “me”? Winning. With style! So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to lay out exactly how I'm going to turn your advantage into mine. I'm gonna play the cards face up. And I'm still going to win.

iHEROCon

Before getting ready to rumble with Atara Themis at Fire and Ice, Centurion and Ruby take a day off to visit iHeroCon, the world’s greatest convention FOR superheroes. Among all the heroes of legends and dapper tales, our Banana-Lime Blur is the only one brave enough to try out the contraption of WarpZone, the traveler of dimensions and timelines. After being flung through time and space, the Super Dear’O finds herself in a land of Fire and Ice, far from the timeline she calls her own, staring at an alternative version of her own self… Ruby Hood.

It didn’t take long for Ruby to understand the predicament she was in. Never mind the fact that she was further removed from her own time than any human had ever been before, the realty was that she was a fingertwitch away from an arrow through the skull. She put up her hands, to indicate she was no threat.

Ruby: “Look look lookie here, my girl. Now I know you must be suspicious, but… I can explain.”

Ruby Hood raised an eyebrow from behind her yellow mask. In fact, her entire outfit seemed to have the opposite color scheme of Ruby’s usual superhero do.

Ruby Hood: “Go ahead, this should be good. Tell me why the spitting image of me just comes falling out of the sky.”

Ruby: “Well, I got catapulted through time and space by my buddy WarpZone, who made this machine that lets you travel through times and timelines.”

Ruby Hood: “Do you take me for a flippin’ fool?”

Ruby: “I… guess it does sound a bit far-fetched.”

Ruby Hood: “You don’t say… Hey, babe!?”

She called out for someone, and it didn’t take long before an imposing, yet familiar figure appeared at her side. He was… very handsome, Ruby though. She shielded her eyes from the sun so she could get a better look at him.

Ruby: “Centurion!?”

The man puffed his chest, and looked down at Ruby with a deep-rooted look of mistrust.

Centurion: “It’s The General, actually. I got promoted a few years back.”

He then turned to Ruby Hood.

General: “What kind of evil trickery and sorcery is this? This smells like a scheme of the Seductress! Only she could pull off something like this. She’s an illusion sent to distract and harm us whilst we prepare for our assault on Castle Themis.”

Ruby Hood: “It’s possible. But I’m not so sure.”

Ruby: “Wait, did you say Themis? As in Atara?”

General and Hood exchanged a quick glance. It would’ve been enough for Ruby to escape the arrow’s path, but she decided that she was going to try and earn their trust some other way.

General: “So you do admit you know her.”

Ruby: “Of course I do, my mans!”

Ruby Hood: “What did you just call him??”

Ruby: “I mean err, my dude! Sorry, force of habit. Look, my timeline has its own Atara too! And if you’re going to take her down, let me help you! I’ve beaten her before, after all.”

Ruby Hood: “Hogwash. Nobody has bested the Seductress for centuries.”

General: “And how, pray tell, did you achieve that feat?”

Ruby: “Look, it’s a long story, but let’s just say dodgeballs were heavily involved. Then I nailed her with a Ruby Cutter, and the rest sf Anarchy history.”

Hood and General exchanged another glance.

Ruby Hood: “She knows about the Ruby Cutter?”

General: “We spent five months tracking that legendary sword down. No way Atara knows about it. This is… odd.”

The General kneeled down next to Ruby.

General: “I’m not saying I believe you, but the Ruby Cutter is the only weapon in the world that can rid us of the evil Seductress. So it has been foretold by the Oracle. And you say you’ve wielded it before to destroy her, in your timeline?”

Ruby: “In a sense… Although ‘destroy’ is a bit exaggerated. You can only take Atara down for so long, unfortunately. But don’t worry, hit her with a Ruby Cutter, and she’ll suffer a fate she considers to be worse than death: irrelevancy.”

Ruby Hood relaxed her arm so the bow no longer stood bent. But she didn’t exactly put the arrow back into her quiver either.

Ruby Hood: “Babe. Get me the Vamp. She’ll be able to tell whether she is an illusion or not.”

The General nodded, and Hood continued to look down at her own spitting image.

Ruby: “So, err… Tell me more about your Atara.”

Ruby Hood: “Atara Themis, Seductress Supreme, Aphrodisiac Incarnate. Thousands of men have turned to dust just by catching a glimpse of her. She has ruled these lands for centuries. And ever since the fall of Lacklan, there is no other evil force pushing back to oppose her.”

Ruby: “Oh, your Lacklan fell too?”

Ruby Hood: “We think so. After Lacklanland was destroyed she was never heard from again. Although some claim she has merely gone into hiding. In any case, she is no longer a threat. But Atara continues to be stain on these lands, sucking them dry like a leech, contributing nothing and taking everything she thinks she deserves. Entire villages have seen their populations halved, with every woman losing her mans to *her* allure and trickery. Those who have managed to resist her, have joined me in my quest to destroy her, so that the world may be whole again.”

Ruby: “Oof. That escalated quickly. ‘My’ Atara is just a stripper. Which, no judgment, all the power to those who use their bodies to achieve their goals. It’s just another form of body positivity, right? If you win the genetic lottery, don’t be ashamed to use your winnings! Imagine if we’d be mad at a lottery winner for spending the money they got because they were lucky!”

Ruby Hood: “I’m not sure I follow? What’s a lottery? And what’s ‘genetic’?”

Ruby: “Ohh, right, right. Fantasy setting. I guess science isn’t all that popular here, it’s more like magic and stuff?”

Hood’s expression changed from confounded to dumbfounded, but luckily the General was there with the aforementioned ‘Vamp’.

General: “Here she is, your wholesomeness.”

Ruby Hood: “Oh, good.”

Ruby: “Hey, Vita, my girl!”

The Vamp raised an eyebrow and looked over at Hood.

Vamp: “How does she know my mortal name??”

Ruby Hood: “Never mind that, my dudette. Just do that thing you do. Is she one of the Seductress’ illusions?”

Vamp nodded and went to ‘work’. She knelt down behind Ruby and placed her nose in the nape of her neck.

Ruby: “Bit weird, but I can see where this is going. Your Vita’s also a vampire, is she?”

Ruby Hood: “She is a nosferatu, ‘tis true. Vamp, what can you tell us?”

Vamp slid her nose over to the side of Ruby’s neck. She bared her teeth and softly pressed them on the spot of skin closest to an artery.

Ruby Hood: “Careful now, my girl, you’ve been clean for 28 years. Don’t throw it all away. Just do your thing.”

Vamp took a deep breath, and stood back up, leaving Ruby unscathed.

Vamp: “She’s no illusion. She’s living, and breathing, and her blood matches your precisely. It’s… uncanny. And yet, there are subtle differences. Almost as if she’s *you*, but from another lifetime. Another world. Another dimension.”

Ruby: “I also eat a lot of donuts, and I bet you guys haven’t invented those.”

Vamp: “Donuts?”

Ruby: “Yeah, they’re like sugary, O-shaped deep-fried pastries with toppings. They’re pretty rad.”

Vamp: “Yeah! That could be the exact difference I was describing!”

Ruby Hood: “Alrighty then, Vamp. Thank you for your service. You’ve proven yourself invaluable once again.”

Vamp bowed her head in respect and appreciation before disappearing into a swarm of bats and flying away. Hood finally put the arrow back in her quiver and reached a hand out to Ruby. The Banana-Lime blur gratefully accepted and was pulled to her feet.

Ruby Hood: “I trust Vampy’s judgment. When it comes to things like these, anyway. If you’re no illusion sent to cause discord by the Seductress, and you are willing to help us vanquish her, then you are most welcome.”

Ruby dusted her pants off, and snapped her fingers.

Ruby: “Oh, you best believe it, my dudette who is also me! Sounds like proper prep for Fire and Ice.”

Ruby Hood: “I do not understand that reference.”

Ruby: “Don’t worry about it. My girl, I wish I had my Go-Pro with me right now. Nobody is gonna believe me when I tell them about this!”

Ruby Hood: “Your Go… What? Never mind, I suppose there are always gonna be things that don’t quite cross over. I bet you’ll be flabbergasted when I tell you the tale of how I struck down the Gadorbadorp of Frezznixon using nothing but cunning, guile, and the Froopyloopyroty of Hermaqqinaye.”

Ruby: “Well, you got me there! Consider me flippin’ flabbergasted!”

Ruby Hood: “Excellent. Now, let me introduce you to the team.”

She took Ruby by the hand, and led her to an opening in the woods. A camp fire was surrounded by tents, and there were dozens of people going about their business, whether they were sharpening weapons on whetstones, hammering away on anvils, or practicing their magic arts.

Hood pointed over to the nearest pair of General and Vamp, who were sparring. They stopped momentarily and gave Ruby a nod of acknowledgment.

Ruby Hood: “You’ve met my lover and my protégé, the immortal vampire. Although her powers of glamouring are nothing compared to those of the Seductress.”

She then pointed to a shape-shifting snake, who turned from reptile to human, and back again.

Ruby Hood: “That’s the Machinal Lubemission Subina. Careful, she’s slippery. But she’s not easily tricked. And a shapeshifting amphibian is welcome in any band of heroes when their intentions are… not *too* bad I guess.”

She pointed at a pink-haired girl over by the armory. She was passing by every weapon, and her mere touch turned all of the steel into gold. From arrow-tips to spears, to swords to axes.

Ruby Hood: “That there’s Sierra Gold, natural born transmutation specialist. She has renounced her EVIL ways, and is now using her powers for GOOD. Although she’ll never admit to it.”

She then pointed at various other members of the jolly band of heroes.

Ruby Hood: “There’s Ned Caiman, half human, half caiman. Unfortunately for him, it’s the lower half that’s caiman, but he’s a very good cook. Not as good a cook as our homeboy Drew Archer Agile, though, but since Drew is already an archer who’s extremely agile and therefore super handy in combat, we just have Ned make the meals so he can feel important. And hey, isn’t nourishment the most important thing a human being needs, be it emotionally or nutritionally? GO NOURISHMENT, am I right? Speaking of which, are you hungry? I can have our super duper agile archer cook you up something.”

Ruby: “No no, it’s fine, apparently I eat way too much anyway, according to my timeline’s version of Atara. I won’t give her the satisfaction of letting her say ‘I told you so’!”

Ruby Hood: “I understand, my girl. Just let me know in time if that tummy of yours goes ‘grrrrr’, because if we are the same person across different timelines, then it usually doesn’t end well when that happens. Oh! Lookie there, it’s South Korean Peace Hero! And Tula Keali’i! She’s pretty great.”

Ruby: “So Tula doesn’t get a different name?”

Ruby Hood: “What do you mean?”

Ruby: “Never mind. Anyway, this is an impressive band of warriors, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to take down the Seductress with these peeps on your side!”

Ruby Hood: “E to the xactly! So let’s prepare for battle. Let’s rest up, and tomorrow at first light we assault the palace of Themis! So ready your dinner and eat hearty… Because tomorrow at noon we lunch in HECK!”

That very next day, after a rather sleepless night for the banana-lime colored heroine of our tale, and also after a very hearty breakfast that included plenty of bacon, fried eggs, fried tomato, and even buttered toast, the troops gathered in front of Castle Themis. The General and Hood stood at the front, with Ruby slightly behind them, and the rest pf the warriors following suit.

General: “Hmmm. No army of Simps in sight? This is suspicious. Be vigilant, everybody!”

Ruby: “I’ve turned being vigilant into a hobby AND profession, my dude!”

Ruby Hood: “Quiet!”

Hood stood before the mighty castle, and let her voice roar.

Ruby Hood: “Atara Themis! The days of your wicked ways are done for! Come out, come out, wherever you are, and we shall do battle until either one of us is vanquished!”

There was little to no response from the castle’s side. Hood seemed disappointed and just about ready to draw the Ruby Cutter, but Ruby stepped up.

Ruby: “Atara! Stop hiding behind your walls! Come out and fight, for a change! These people have had enough of you! For centuries you’ve been here, but what have you accomplished, truly!? You’re nothing but a source of frustration. You’re omni-present, yet you accomplish nothing. You’re literally a literary device, a passenger in a train that bought a ticket, but sure isn’t helping to put any coal into the engine!”

General: “What’s a train?”

Ruby Hood: “Hush, babe. Let her speak.”

Ruby: “Let’s face it, Atara. You’re never going to be top dog. You’re never going to be *the* champion. You lack the spine, you lack the fortitude, and you certainly lack the self-awareness to admit I’m right. You serve a purpose, but… oh, flip!”

Ruby’s speech was interrupted by the twang of a series of catapults, and before long, the sky darkened and a rain of unidentified objects blotted out the sun.

General: “Oh no! Duck!”

Ruby Hood: “Are those ducks??”

General: “No, just… duck!”

General lifted his shield up, and as if by magic, or rather: because of magic, he helped protect the entire army at the base of Themis Palace. As the projectiles evaporated on General’s totally encompassing shield of light, Ruby could finally make out what was being flung at them.

Ruby: “Are those… cows!?”

The downpour of live cows stopped, and General lowered his shield. Atop Themis Palace, a figure emerged atop the parapets.

Atara: “Fools! Do you truly believe you have what it takes to stop me!? These live cows I just catapulted at you are merely the beginning! I have an undead army of SIMPS I can simply turn towards you, and with a snap of my finger they will do my bidding and destroy you! I queef in your general direction! I throw my dirty crusty snot-filled hankies at you! And if that isn’t enough, then I only have one final spell to unleash on you… Κάτι πολύ ασεβές και κακό στα ελληνικά!!

Ruby Hood: “Nobody listen to her! We have her right where we want her! Don’t fall under her spell. Vamp, use your Glamour powers to counteract hers!”

Vamp went about her glamouring business so quickly she dissipated into a pink mist. But Atara wasn’t discouraged.

Atara: “A fine trick from your undead nosferatu. A worthy ally, no doubt. But wait until you see what I’ve uncovered in the depths of ασυναρτησίες!”

Atara drew a circle around herself, and starting an enchantment.

Ruby Hood: “Oh no! It’s a warm-up spell! I bet she’ll summon a demon from the deepest depths of her nether regions!”

Ruby: “No worries! That gives you an opening!”

General: “Phrasing! But accurate! Archer Agile! Take your best agile shot!”

This timeline’s Drew lined up his best shot.

Ruby: “Boy, this is exciting!”

WarpZone: “I agree!”

Ruby jumped a few feet into the air.

Ruby: “DAFLIP!?? WarpZone? What are you doing here??”

WarpZone: “Getting you back to our time and timeline, of course. Your boyfriend just got back from the bathroom, and he’s quite cross with us. I mean, I could just zap him head-first into Uranus…”

Ruby: “Phrasing. But kinky. But also, please don’t do that.”

WarpZone: “That’s why I’m here! Now, shall we?”

Ruby nodded, but held up her hand.

Ruby: “Sure. Just let me say goodbye real quick.”

Ruby ran over to Hood, who cast her eyes downward.

Ruby Hood: “Aww, shucks. You gotta do, don’t you?”

Ruby: “’fraid so, my girl. But don’t you worry. You got this. Just like I do. You’ll knock off the Seductress, and I’m gonna beat Atara in my world. Again.”

Hood pulled Ruby into a hug.

Ruby Hood: “You’ve made us believe! Now go and kick some backside!”

Ruby: “You best flippin’ believe it, my girl!”

WarpZone put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder, and the pair of them were catapulted through time and space once again.

Ruby landed back into the hall at iHeroCon. The moment she and WarpZone landed on their feet, a band of surrounding heroes cheered and applauded.

Brassface: “She did it!”

Human Bear: “Attagirl!”

Skyscraper: “Impressive!”

Ruby dusted her clothes off once again, but was interrupted by Centurion, who pulled her into a hug before she could finish.

Centurion: “You’re back! You had me worried there for a bit.”

Ruby: “Not to worry, my mans. Just another adventure that the British would call ‘bonkers’. But all is well that ends well. And you know what? I’ve got a pretty good feeling about Fire and Ice. I feel like Atty’s gonna suffer defeat across multiple timelines this weekend.”

Centurion: “That makes no sense.”

Ruby: “Excellent. That’s kind of what I was going for.”

[Image: xdkhJBl.gif]

]]>

]]> <![CDATA[Little Less Conversation]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42745 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 17:12:14 -0800 Barney Green]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42745

The Following Announcement has been paid for by BG Enterprises.

The camera turns on inside of Leap Castle in Ireland where we see Barney Green dressed in a white shirt with black khakis and black sneakers. He goes to speak.

Barney: Hello, Friends. Look at what I managed to do with my investment into BarnCoin. I managed to buy a castle.

Barney takes a swig of water as he goes to speak.

Barney: You see when I step into the ring in front of all my Irish fans. You are looking at the Epitome Of Cool himself.

Barney pauses for a minute as the cameraman says something to him.

Cameraman: I don't think there are many Irish people in Iceland.

Barney: What do you mean that Fire and Ice is taking place in Iceland? You know how hard it was to--

The camera fades to black and then we see Green sitting down on a bench. Barney goes to speak.

Barney: Well. We both learned something today. Thanks to this mysterious investor. It was no biggie. I just can't re-enter Ireland for the next 5 years. I am fucking pissed off.

Barney takes a deep breath and goes to speak.

Barney: Come Fire and Ice, I am ready for you Elijah Martin. It doesn't matter who you have in your corner. Chronic Chris Page doesn't scare me. The wonderful people of Iceland will get to watch me crack you in the mouth no problem.

The camera shows old footage of Green wrestling in XWF back in 2012 when he had the XWF World Championship which is clearly just a VHS recording being filmed.

Barney: Fun times that was. I made my mark. I built a legacy that most people will never be able to match. No matter how hard they try. There will always only be one Barney Green.

The camera then shows Barney Green standing in front of an American Flag.

Barney: Elijah Martin, You have no clue what you are getting into when it comes to this. Staple Guns don't scare me and you certainly don't. This will be a very bloody match if you think you are just gonna steamroll me. After I take your belt, Maybe I can convince you to invest in BarnCoin.

Barney strikes a pose and then goes to speak again.

Barney: You may think you are gonna walk into this like it's nothing but trust me, You are looking at your Daddy! The Daddy Of Violence is always down for a fight. Never backed down from a single one.

Barney pauses and takes a swig of water then goes to speak.

Barney: If you are still watching this, BarnCoin will save your life. We are projected to make huge gains in the market. I guarantee it. Trust me on this one. Look at what I have managed to do with my life thanks to BarnCoin.

The camera zooms out too far and shows a janitor cleaning in the far corner and then quickly zooms back into Green too far to the point that we see just sees his face from the nose up.

Barney: I can't wait until I see Leopold D. Morgan in court. These fools have --

The camera quickly shuts off.

The preceding announcement has been paid for by BG Enterprises. Please visit BarnCoin.tk to learn more.

Leopold D. Morgan will suffer like the rest who have tried to sue me. I got enough money now to take him and his law firm out of business. He and the whole state will rue the day they tried to take a hardworking honest person like myself to court over insurance fraud.

I did not burn down that building. Just because I left a can of gasoline next to the building doesn't mean anything. Just because I was across the street when it went up in flames doesn't mean I did it. That is a bunch of bullshit.

It was a freak accident like the turpentine incident where a bunch of people got sick. I didn't see the state getting involved in that one. Oh right, I got sued all because I used turpentine in People Power Academy to fix something and didn't ventilate the area properly.

Now they are trying to find a way to get at my assets which is pretty hard when it's all in BarnCoin. That is the future. I also don't receive any monetary gain in these XWF matches. Just invest and watch it skyrocket upwards.

I don't even legally own the car I drive around in either. But I got enough legal experience to make them think they got the edge on me when they have nothing. Good luck trying to throw me in jail. Been in there enough times that I can manipulate the system to my advantage.
]]>

The Following Announcement has been paid for by BG Enterprises.

The camera turns on inside of Leap Castle in Ireland where we see Barney Green dressed in a white shirt with black khakis and black sneakers. He goes to speak.

Barney: Hello, Friends. Look at what I managed to do with my investment into BarnCoin. I managed to buy a castle.

Barney takes a swig of water as he goes to speak.

Barney: You see when I step into the ring in front of all my Irish fans. You are looking at the Epitome Of Cool himself.

Barney pauses for a minute as the cameraman says something to him.

Cameraman: I don't think there are many Irish people in Iceland.

Barney: What do you mean that Fire and Ice is taking place in Iceland? You know how hard it was to--

The camera fades to black and then we see Green sitting down on a bench. Barney goes to speak.

Barney: Well. We both learned something today. Thanks to this mysterious investor. It was no biggie. I just can't re-enter Ireland for the next 5 years. I am fucking pissed off.

Barney takes a deep breath and goes to speak.

Barney: Come Fire and Ice, I am ready for you Elijah Martin. It doesn't matter who you have in your corner. Chronic Chris Page doesn't scare me. The wonderful people of Iceland will get to watch me crack you in the mouth no problem.

The camera shows old footage of Green wrestling in XWF back in 2012 when he had the XWF World Championship which is clearly just a VHS recording being filmed.

Barney: Fun times that was. I made my mark. I built a legacy that most people will never be able to match. No matter how hard they try. There will always only be one Barney Green.

The camera then shows Barney Green standing in front of an American Flag.

Barney: Elijah Martin, You have no clue what you are getting into when it comes to this. Staple Guns don't scare me and you certainly don't. This will be a very bloody match if you think you are just gonna steamroll me. After I take your belt, Maybe I can convince you to invest in BarnCoin.

Barney strikes a pose and then goes to speak again.

Barney: You may think you are gonna walk into this like it's nothing but trust me, You are looking at your Daddy! The Daddy Of Violence is always down for a fight. Never backed down from a single one.

Barney pauses and takes a swig of water then goes to speak.

Barney: If you are still watching this, BarnCoin will save your life. We are projected to make huge gains in the market. I guarantee it. Trust me on this one. Look at what I have managed to do with my life thanks to BarnCoin.

The camera zooms out too far and shows a janitor cleaning in the far corner and then quickly zooms back into Green too far to the point that we see just sees his face from the nose up.

Barney: I can't wait until I see Leopold D. Morgan in court. These fools have --

The camera quickly shuts off.

The preceding announcement has been paid for by BG Enterprises. Please visit BarnCoin.tk to learn more.

Leopold D. Morgan will suffer like the rest who have tried to sue me. I got enough money now to take him and his law firm out of business. He and the whole state will rue the day they tried to take a hardworking honest person like myself to court over insurance fraud.

I did not burn down that building. Just because I left a can of gasoline next to the building doesn't mean anything. Just because I was across the street when it went up in flames doesn't mean I did it. That is a bunch of bullshit.

It was a freak accident like the turpentine incident where a bunch of people got sick. I didn't see the state getting involved in that one. Oh right, I got sued all because I used turpentine in People Power Academy to fix something and didn't ventilate the area properly.

Now they are trying to find a way to get at my assets which is pretty hard when it's all in BarnCoin. That is the future. I also don't receive any monetary gain in these XWF matches. Just invest and watch it skyrocket upwards.

I don't even legally own the car I drive around in either. But I got enough legal experience to make them think they got the edge on me when they have nothing. Good luck trying to throw me in jail. Been in there enough times that I can manipulate the system to my advantage.
]]> <![CDATA[The Brother's Main.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42791 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 17:10:41 -0800 Oliver Main]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42791

Friday September 15th 2006…

This school isn’t just a million bricks that keep it standing on a solid foundation, or teachers helping fill the bright young minds of their students with life-altering knowledge… It’s the thousands of hearts who carry more dreams than the night sky has stars that make this school and many other schools special. It’s filled to the brim with their emotions and stories of the good, bad, and ugly of what it’s like to be a teenager in high school… Every single child always dreams of growing up, some even say that they cannot wait until they grow up. Right… Until you do, then reality sets in like a kick to the head. Only if they knew the unmitigated truth in those moments, they’d reverse course. Being an adult is a rigorous journey and at times can be backbreaking. Manhood or womanhood demands conviction and without it, you will fail in a blaze of glory. Adult responsibility is acquired over time as we grow to protect the younger generations coming after us. We learn to become their shield, the heroes we wished we had when we were growing up. Every blessing can become a curse, the grace and independence of adulthood come with the price of emotional self-containment in times of stress. The mature adult contains and releases stress in an unassailable manner that protects vulnerable others. They are the good shepherd in tough times and take the hits as required. Today Robert Main and his little brother Oliver would both become an adult and didn’t even know it…

” Come on Ollie…”

Robert leisurely leaned against his locker while peering down the hallway watching the chaos unfold as his little brother weaved his way through the sea of backpacks with a disheveled look on his face…

” Robert, I’ve been thinking…”

Oliver lowered his head and began tapping his foot on the dark marble floors…

” There is your first problem little brother, you’re thinking about this too much…”[/orange

Oliver shook his head as the glossy brown door to the right of Robert’s locker opened and several teachers passed The Brother Main heading towards the cafeteria. Ollie nervously watched the number on the door with silver digits that matched the globe-shaped handles close.

” Robert, I’m not sure this is a great idea. We are outnumbered and we could get into a lot of trouble… Let’s figure something else out. I can deal with this in my way.”

Robert smirked as he placed his arm over Oliver’s shoulders forcing him down the hallway towards the cafeteria.

[orange]” Ollie, we’ve got to go through with this. if we don’t you’ll deal with this kind of thing for years. So, let’s go crack a few heads and show this entire school why you don’t fuck with a Main.”

Oliver nods with uncertainty peering out the window…

” Any sign of Drew?”

Ollie shakes his head…

” Not yet no…”

Robert sighs…

” I bet that ass got mom to take him to In and Out burger… Love that place. So, where do these ass holes sit…”

The two enter the cafeteria as Oliver points.

” There… Right in the middle of the cafeteria.”

Robert scratches his chin in deep thought eyeballing every inch of the cafeteria for a moment.

” We can do one of two things, we can go in with guns blazing, and start hitting anything that moves, or we can try to stay diplomatic…. But I’ll leave that part up to you little brother.”

Oliver takes a deep breath and replies…

” Let’s try to stay diplomatic if we can…”

Robert winks with a smile…

” Sure thing little brother… I’ve always been a very diplomatic person.”

The duo make their way to the middle of the cafeteria, where Robert stands tall with his arms folded across his chest and Oliver to his right…

” Hey, dipshits…”

Oliver leans in…

” Way to keep things diplomatic…”

The four seniors ignore Robert and continue with their conversation while eating their lunch. Robert pokes one of the bullies on the shoulder with his index finger finally getting some acknowledgment…

” Can I help you?”

” Uh yeah, yeah you can… My little brother here tells me that you four have been picking on him. It says a whole hell of a lot when four seniors are picking on a freshman. I’m here to ask you to stop and each one of you gives him an apology.”

” Look man, we are just giving him a hard time. That’s all it is…? It’s what seniors do to freshmen…”

” About what? What did my little brother do to any of you?”

Oliver grabs Robert by the arm trying to get him to leave but Robert refuses to budge pulling away and notices Drew lurking around from the other side of the table…

” I said about what asshole…”

Robert takes a step closer as all four seniors stand and Drew continues creeping up from behind them…

” Your little brother is gay… That’s what it's about. Now fuck off or we will make you fuck off…”

Robert looked to Oliver with a crazed look in his eyes…

” Oh shit…”

Oliver suddenly felt the apprehension beneath the surface building. Then without hesitation, Oliver takes a step forward. He feels the anxiety knowing all hell is about to break loose. Oliver then takes another step forward, as if by magic, he found his confidence, and spoke…

” Apologize to me right now…”

” Or what…”

The difference between taking the step forwards or not is everything. And over a lifetime it defines who you are. All those steps manufacture a courageous soul and, in time, an accomplished person who does so much for others, one who has their respect and love too. Being brave becomes a way of being, one to embrace. Being valiant means at times you’ll be afraid, or at least it does for Oliver Main. The two go hand in hand. First is the nervousness, then the determination not to be owned by it. From this moment forward Oliver will always choose to face his fear, to subjugate it, how else will he ever make true progress in life? He will not be molded by those who want him conveniently pacified; he will not shy away from the battlefields they’ve created for me. At least not anymore…. Though his heart often beats like a drum and his fingers tingle from an excess of adrenaline, He is a legionnaire at heart. Faced with adversity, Oliver has an ability for calm and rational thought. And to him for the rest of his life that will become a blessing in disguise. Being courageous for him was always a conscious choice. When he sees a tidal wave of agitation at his feet and wants to run away, he dives in head first to ride the wave and see where it takes him. Ollie isn’t a fearless person by nature, quite the opposite, but he will not be mastered by such a basic emotion, a primal urge. His developed brain must always be the part to lead him, listening to his instincts and making the right choices. And in this defining moment, Oliver chose to fight!

” THIS!”

Oliver suddenly slams his forehead into the bully's nose splattering his face, dropping him to his knees… Robert watched in awe in that moment of absolute stillness as the echoing voices in the cafeteria abruptly died. The students ceased to rustle, even the rumble of the cooks were absent, as all eyes were on The Brothers Main and Drew…

“Yippee-ki-yay MF’ER”

Drew leaped from one of the tabletops like a crazy man with a cross-body-block knocking two of the four seniors to the floor and began machine-gunning anything that moved with fists of fury. Robert peeked in Oliver's direction, who was now on top of the senior he headbutted, throwing heavy hands…

FLASH…

Unexpectedly Robert saw a brilliant flash of white light as his brain was trying to process what had just happened, he instantaneously felt pain above his left eye… As he reached up he noticed a cut above his left eyebrow, as the scarlet blood began flowing. Robert snarls with a grin hitting a double leg takedown and started carpet bombing… The fight only lasted a minute before Robert, Oliver, and Drew could feel several of their teacher’s hands pulling them off Oliver's bullies… Drew breaks away from the teachers standing over the fallen bullies pointing in their faces…

"Welcome To The Party, Pal."

” Did you watch Die Hard recently?”

Drew enthusiastically nods as two teachers grab him again pulling him away…

” Last night, and I’m sure glad I did…”

Drew eyeballed one of the teachers hanging on to him…

” Just A Fly In The Ointment, Hans. The Monkey In The Wrench. The Pain In The Ass."

All three brothers chuckle for a moment, Robert pulls away pointing at the fallen bodies on the floor…

” So, Oliver you going to tell us what the hell this was all about in the first place?”

Oliver lowered his head looking over his beaten and battered knuckles as he spoke softly…

” Because it’s true…”

Robert and Drew could feel the strain and hear the emotion in their little brother's tone. There's a great deal of delirium behind Oliver’s words…

” I have no idea what he’s talking about… What’s true? I just came in and started blasting fools…”

Oliver looked to Drew and then Robert and spoke with a shaky voice…

” I’m gay…

Coming Out Party...

” Just so I’m understanding…”

Fabricators… Flashes across the screen.

” Just how simple-minded can one team be?”

” Complained about how they lost the titles?”

” Yep….”

” Downplayed my involvement?”

”Check.”

” Basically everything that we said they would say, they did say. Want to see my shocked face?”

Perjurers…

” Here’s a question for our so-called challengers. Any specific reason you waste your time going after Jim like he's involved in this affair? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. Not the smartest move to make when every word matters; but hey, what do I know?”

” It’s cute that you boys went directly down the rabbit hole that will cement your misfortune. The notion that the Brother’s Main isn’t near as threatening tells me that some of us haven’t done our homework. Rob, do you think these two chumps know that this isn’t our first tag match; actually, we stand before you all with an undefeated record not only in the ring but in the streets as well. This means to me that when we roll into Fire and Ice to shut those mouths the taste of satisfaction will be even more divine. Listen, we’re ecstatic that both of you are under the delusion that this is somehow a walk in the park.”

” It’s hilarious that they’ve had to settle on the lowest hanging fruit possible, I wonder when they’re going to realize that fruit is spoiled. What’s next? Are idiots going to go after our dead Dad for cheap heel heat?”

” That’s the status quo when it comes to you, brother. And it always has been because you’ve made the XWF your bitch for years. I mean, there’s not a lot out there that can be said. The only way to assault you is to bludgeon the company you keep like it somehow takes away from the dominating fist you’ve ruled the federation with.”

” I get it but you’d think there would come a time when even the dumbest of people would see that if it hasn’t worked you’d try a different approach.”

” That would require originality versus behind curtain drama. It’s truly a shame they’re that dry of material, that is the direction they elected to go because I wanted a challenge since I’m officially making my XWF debut with this appearance.”

Pretenders…

” I hate to say it, little bro, get used to being less challenged here than anywhere else on the planet. You’ll see.”

” Did they try to prompt the War Criminal to defeat Centurion… Negating the handful of tights that it took to do it? Isn’t that cheating? I mean, call me crazy but how can you draw a reference to cheating with cheating? Defies logic.”

” Intelligence isn’t a strong suit as you can tell. I mean they did fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Enough about them as a team. Every village has an idiot, they happen to have two.”

” Hi Mark… Your attempts thus far have been feeble at best. You get off on humor, right? Kinda your thing from what I can gather. Can I tell you something I find funny? How you hide behind your War Criminal. Every match you’ve pissed away, he’s lost them… How much do you think the masses will laugh when this weaker Apex beats you clean and clear in the middle of the ring? Smart money is on a lot.”

” Hey Ollie.”

” Sup Rob?”

Deceivers…

” Did you know that Flynn kicked my ass up over my ears at Bad Medicine?

” No shit?

” Crazy isn’t it?”

” In a wrestling match, you got beat on? Isn’t that how this sport works? Someone pounds on someone, rinses, and repeats … Or am I missing something?”

” No you’re right. That’s how fucking wrestling works!”

” Awesome job at explaining how a wrestling match operates; who has the gold and who’s chasing? Ignorant twat-waffle.”

Swindlers…

” Listen, they’re just filled with piss and vinegar because I dictate my pace. They’re just like all the other bottom-feeding low-life within this company. The same people that try me now are the same ones swallowing my load back then. Nothing’s changed, I’m the top of the food chain, I’m the guy everyone wants a piece of… As long as they have some [i]help… You’re not walking into this taking on Apex… The Brother’s Main is who you have, looking down upon you as we prepare to squash you under our boots.”

” We know where to strike, who to carpet bomb, and when to do it. While everything is a joke to you, something that’s not a laughing matter is leaving Fire and Ice as we’re going to enter… With the Tag straps firmly around our waist. Fuck your rules, go cry to somebody that gives a shit because that’s not us. You continue to spend your time waxing some antics while we continue to steam right along at your expenses.”

” When we defeat you, again, you can take your asses to the back of the line… Not that it's long by any means. This is now being played by our rules; you’ve been a really good puppet thus far so I can only assume you’ll continue to dance as I tug on those strings.”

” Pinocchio, I see what ya did there. Well played.”

” Point is boys, keep talking about the past, keep talking about Jim, keep talking about any and everything to deflect away from everything that matters which is the notion of just how fucked you are as you prepare yourselves to walk into Fire and Ice. The past is a wonderful thing in the sense of it shows me how you’ve already been outsmarted once.”

” Shouldn’t be complicated to do again.”

Fraudsters…

” Oh and War Criminal, you’ve got a stupendous view while being carried on Mark’s back while you strike that sailor pose. I’m looking forward to seeing you again the most because you’re what makes this defense successful. Mark will get his ass in a crack and you’ll be the fall guy that secures the first of many successful title defenses.”

” It’s cute for you to worship the ground Flynn walks on, I almost want to ask how his ass tastes considering your head is shoved so far up it. I’m looking forward to smashing you both the moment that bell rings. Your bodies are going to be my canvass, my fists, the brushes. I’m going to paint such a glorious picture of violence that it's going to have Bob Ross turning over in his grave.”

” Best Afro on the planet… For a white guy…”

” I thought you said they were decent? I’m not seeing anything but a shitload of misdirection that might confuse the midcarders Mark’s the “king” coupled with a lot of insecurities wrapped around people that have nothing to do with what’s taking place come Fire and Ice.”

” I just had to tell you that so you didn’t walk in with lower expectations. The only thing that we need to do at this point is showing up in Iceland, walk to that ring, retain these titles, and move the fuck on. There’s only one team that’s going to be leaving with the gold around their waists, you’re looking at them.”

” The last thing that’s going to be a joke is when The Brother’s Main pulls your punks cards by leaving STILL the XWF Tag Team Champions…”

Con Artist…

” By any means necessary. Gentlemen the hypocrisy stops here along with the outdated sense of morality… This match is going to be a fistfight and you two vile sons of a bitches will succumb to the violence in that ring as The Brother’s Main will tear everything down to destroy you both… ”]]>

Friday September 15th 2006…

Before

The battle field was arrayed in a forest clearing. Pan and Corey tracked the enemy by the smoking effluvium of their camp fires in the distance, grim portents of the violence to come. And now it was here, in all its terrible glory.

Hook’s damned crew numbered close to 40. All of them sallow skinned, dark eyed men covered in ritualistic scarring. Hook was mounted on a stallion, his black pirates garb with red trimming looking admittedly smart on his proud frame. On another horse just behind him was Lovecraft, clad in a long dark coat with a wide brimmed preachers hat atop his head.

The sun was high in the sky, but these evil men looked perpetually clammy despite the radiance. Their glances spoke of murder. Of a rage long stymied by loss but promised the world.

Corey looked at Pan, whose face was grim. On one side of his waist a sword was sheathed. On the other, affixed to a rope belt, was a clear jar. Something shimmered and swirled within the jar.

Are you starting to feel like this was a mistake? Pan queried, surveying their numerous enemies.

No children will be hurt. Corey repeated his mantra, a mantra he held firm to despite the fact that it resulted in their side of the battlefield looking woefully outmatched. Corey brought his hand down to his own sword. Lux had taught him some rudimentary basics of fighting with a blade, but of course he had never been as adept as her with it. Today, his mediocre skills would be more than put to the test.

Hook’s mount was spurred to the fore. The captain, that child murdering villain, removed his hat and hung it at his side. He looked confident, and not at all intimidated by the strangeness of this new land.

Is that it then, Pan?

It is. He spoke the words like a challenge.

Hook grinned. I’m told this isn’t our first time meeting. I’m told that I’ve been, what’s the word for it, “reincarnated”. Now, I’m not sure how much I believe all that. No offense to my good friend Mr. Lovecraft. But I do know this. I have never felt a greater sense of purpose than I do right now.

And what purpose is that?

Dedication to my new master. And my manifest destiny.

You gotta be shittin’ me.

Hook stopped short at the flagrant disrespect. I assure you Mr. Smith. I am NOT “shitting you.” These lands were made for me. They were…

Fuck it. Thad, take the shot.

The air was split by a mighty crack, and before it could register with any of his allies, Hook had slipped off his saddle, fresh blood pouring out the back of his skull. As a final indignity, his horse spooked and his foot caught in the stirrup. The horse dragged it’s master up and away from the battlefield, as his men looked on in dumbstruck silence.

Corey spoke aloud so the mic he was carrying could hear it. Helluva shot, Dukey.

It was, wasn’t it? His voice crackled back. Pan chuckled at Corey’s side.

Corey looked out at the mass of men. I’ll be damned if I was going to listen to that child killing piece of shit monologue. But the rest of you have a choice. Go back the way you came or…

Lovecraft pointed at Corey and announced in a gutteral tone, Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. And that’s when the throng of men surged at them.

Pan dipped back into a fighting stance, bringing his sword to bear. His free hand went to the jar at his side, which he adroitly opened one handed, allowing the shimmer within to spill forth. As the band formed, it soon became clear that it wasn’t so much a uniform shape, but multiple smaller shapes. Folklore would oft refer to them as pixies or faeries. But they weren’t quite like Tinkerbell.

[Image: 20120717-225048.jpg]

As they advanced towards the field of battle, their colors dulled and their features grew more feral, sprouting vicious fangs.

Pan touched Corey’s hand, but stayed eyes forward. Are you ready for this?

As I’ll ever be.

The young men leapt into battle.

Pan dove into the enemy with wreckless abandon, sword flashing under the light of the sun as he spun and twirled like a Romani dancer. His fighting style was poetry in motion, so fast and agile it nearly seemed as though he were stepping in and out of time. Corey had to resist the urge to marvel as Pan felled two sword wielding warriors with relative ease. However, two others gave him some pause, clearly more skilled than their predescessors.

The contents of the jar also set to work. Since their transformation, the tiny fey creatures were little more than aerial maws of sharp teeth. They thudded into bodies and immediately set to work, thrashing and gnawing holes in the flesh, burrowing deep like a parasite. Corey was aghast at the ruthless efficiency of the little creatures, taken aback by how something so formerly mesmerizing could become so deadly.

At the far end of the battlefield, a pack of horses was pulling a goliath trebuchet, the weapon no doubt brought along to lay siege to Pan's village. Corey set his sights on this target. Gripping his sword tight and praying a quick mantra to the diety he was priveledged to know existed, Corey also waded into the fracas. Immediately, an arrow hit the ground about a foot from his ankle. A brigade of archers had assembled further afield, and Corey pointed and called out to Pan to warn him. Meanwhile, three of the brigands moved into melee range. Corey swallowed deep and shored up his resolve. One of them slashed out at Corey, and he just barely parried the blow before being forced to deflect another. The combatants instantly manuevered to try to hem Corey in. He knew he needed to prevent being assaulted on all fronts. Corey feinted high and then struck low, gashing open the thigh of one of the fighters, causing him to curse and stumble back. Seeing this, the other two attacked. Corey turned aside, allowing the sword of one to impale itself in the shoulder of the other. The stricken man fell screaming to thr ground, clutching his arm as it dangled out of socket. Corey turned to the final combatant, and their blades clashed. But no sooner had that happened than did another gunshot ring out, and a high caliber bullet embedded itself in his assailant's neck, dropping him.

Good shootin' Tex. Corey spoke aloud.

Tex? Bite your tongue. Thad Duke shot back from the microphone affixed to Corey's torso.

Try to take out those....shit! Two more arrows assailed the ground uncomfortably close to Corey. ...those archers!

On it.

Just then, the man whose thigh had been lacerated lunged at Corey, his sword forgotten in favor of some spiked brass knuckles. Corey didn't see it coming, and he was doubled over by a stiff shot to the abdomen.

Corey!

Corey juked back to avoid further injury, pointing his sword at his assailant to keep him at bay. Thad Duke came through again, a headshot taking the man out of the mix with a fierceness.

Corey looked down at his abdomen and saw thin trickles of blood already appearing on his shirt.

Damn it! He winced in pain, but took stock of the battlefield again. Pan was still holding his own, and some of the men certainly seemed spooked by the sniper shots. The field was littered with the tiny fey creatures, having been ripped out of bodies before they could do too much damage and pulped by angry fists before being cruelly lobbed onto the ground.

By Corey's guess, there were still about 30 men in the fight. 29, as another shot echoed out and an archer dropped. The surrounding archers broke formation, though whether it was done out of fear or sound stretegy Corey wasn't sure. Corey again set his sights on the advancing trebuchet, and he skirted the edge of the field of battle to attempt to circle round to it. But another duo of fighters spotted him and gave chase. Corey surprised them by charging in, using his monentum to slide on his knees and cut one of them off at the shins. He went down screaming. Corey popped up just in time to meet a glancing blow from the other that set him off balance. Seeing the weakness, the other slashed at Corey, intent on taking off his head. Corey ducked back, the blade nearly shearing off his shirt as it floated in the air. That was too close.

Giving himself some room, Corey cycled back, almost stumbling into another dying brigand who was trying to extricate one of the fey that was lodged in his neck. Corey kicked the man out of the way before meeting his original attacker again. Their blades clashed over and over, this one clearly being more limber and better trained than the others. So much so that Corey soon found him pressing an advantage. Little help here! Corey called out.

Hold on, have to get my bearings!

Corey set back on his haunches, switching into a defensive stance. Doing so reignited the burn in the flesh on his abdomen, but he did his best to ignore the pain. A gunshot went off, but it was wide right as the swordman moved just in the nick of time.

Try again!

I know, I know!

Corey made a defensive stab, and then another, trying to keep his attacker from advancing anymore. The attacker also seemed to be aware that the sniper was training on him, forcing his attention in two directions. Advantage, Corey.

*BANG*

The shot ripped through the attackers knee. He fell, calling out some foul bit of apologia to The Old One.

Boy.

The voice was venomous. Corey wheeled about to find himself face to face with Lovecraft.

Fancy yourself a hero?

I try my best. Corey dug in his back heel, preparing for an attack.

That you do, Corey, that you do.

Thad, you got a bead on this asshole? Corey listened for the reply, but there was nothing.

And then, the area around Corey got darker. The sun was blotted out. And to his astonishment, he found that he was viewing the rest of the battlefield through a sort of hazy black shade.

What did you do?!

Lovecraft gestured to his arcane creation. We're alone now Corey. Free to discuss terms uninterrupted by the rest of this boorishness.

Terms? Corey snorted. Your guys are getting eaten alive out there.

If you insist. Lovecraft allowed, but his tenor suggested that was certainly not all. But as you know, this WILL happen again. And again.

Yeah...yeah. Pan told me.

It doesn't have to, Corey. We can strike a bargain.

I'm not bargaining with you.

Oh really? Lovecraft's stony face perked up, and the expression was unsettling to say the least. I should think you'd be used to Faustian Pacts by now.

He knows. Corey tried not to let his dismay bleed through. I don't know...

Save it. Monsters talk, Corey. Mammon was actually quite impressed by your duplicity.

A grip releases. A man falls. No. NO! Stay the fuck out of my head!

I'm not in your head. You're well enough in your own head for both of us. Lovecraft carried a haughty disposition. The fact is that you let a man die to protect your people. You're not willing to bargain for Pan's people?

This should be Pan's call! Why are you asking me?

Because Pan won't bargain. The declaration was steeped in profundity, as though he had just spoken a universal truth.

Corey looked at Lovecraft derisively. He would do what he needs to do to protect the people he cares about.

You don't think I've asked him before? You don't think we've been down this road? He pauses. Corey, he wouldn't bargain. He'd rather fight eternally. Risk the lives of those children eternally. But you? You'll bargain. It was nearly a challenge.

What do you want?

Here's my proposition. Neverland will see no more Captain Hook's, no more wars...if you agree to kill Pan.

What?! Corey was dismayed.

What we want is territory, Corey. A stake in half of Neverland. It's all we've ever wanted. But Pan wouldn't allow it. He'd rather keep throwing lives and resources down a pit on endless conflict. Corey, HE is the problem! Is all of this worth one man child's ego?

And what of those who already live in the lands you want to lay claim to? Displacement? Annihilation?

You have my assurance that the lands we desire are already sparseley populated at best.

"Sparsely populated at best"? So it'll just be a tiny genocide then?

Fine. Lovecraft bristled. You need me to sweeten the deal? My power, and my benefactor's, can be remarkably wide reaching. There must be something additional you desire, no?

Christian dancing under the sun, body swaying to a hidden rhythm.....

I could...I could...

Yes, something's there, isn't it?

I could have him back. He could love me again.

You're awash in it Corey. Lovecraft spoke plainly. A secret loss. Something pulling at your heart strings. The Old One can make it better. He can give you what you desire.

I could make it merciful. I could make it so he feels no pain.

A grip releases. A man falls.

Christian dancing.

The smell of him.

The taste of him.

His hand in mine.

His GRIP in mine.

...

...

...

No.

No?

No. Go fuck yourself. Corey's heart tore in two. His grip releases. Christian falls.

You're making a mistake.

I know. Go fuck yourself anyway. Corey tried mightily to keep the small hitch out of his voice.

Lovecraft mused for a moment. And then, a shadow seemed to peel off his body, an incorporeal darkness that traveled along the ground like encoraching night, gliding towards Corey quicker than he could react. It was on him in no time, a shadowy hand reaching out to squeeze his throat. Corey gasped, dropping his sword so he could use both hands to try to peel the attacker away. But when he tried to gain hold of the shadowy arm, he found their was nothing to grip onto but an amorphous cold.

It didn't have to be this way. Lovecraft approached, an eerie greenish glow in his hands. Give Aiwass my regards when you see him in hell.

Darkness encorached at the corners of Corey's vision, and all light began to die, fading to varying hues of fizzy gray. I'm dying. More and more the darkness irised out the light, all encompassing. Everything. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry... In those final moments, he wondered if he would see Lux. he wondered if she would be there waiting for him. It almost made it worth it.

And just like that, he could breathe again. The shadows in the corners of his vision were stayed, the spectral force suddenly gone. Corey gasped and sank to his knees, looking up as the sights and sounds of battle returned. A blade had pushed through Lovecraft's chest from the back. Corey could barely make out Pan behind him, calling something out to Corey that couldn't register just yet. Lovecraft pitched forward, howling in rage moreso than pain. The green energy that had been crackling in his fists started to move up his arms, onto his shoudlers. It was wild energy, now unchecked and wracking the sorceror's body. Pan backed away as Lovecraft took a few hesitant steps as his body was eaten alive by the nercomantic energies, flesh peeling from bone and sloughing off in deadened meaty chunks. By the time he hit the ground, his corpse was mostly wet bone with scraps of rotting muscle attached.

Corey looked about, seeing the tide of battle turning in their favor, as Hook’s men took note of the demise of both their leaders and started to break ranks. Another of Thad’s rifle shots popped off in the distance and Corey knew they had won this day.

Christian, this isn’t even an attempt to get you back. God knows how much I’d like that. But it’s clear to me how unhappy you were. How much the stress and chaos of my life wore you down bit by bit until you couldn’t take it anymore. So no, this isn’t that.

Because quite frankly I love you enough to let you go. I want you to be happy. I want you to be WITH someone who makes you happy. You’re a beautiful soul, and you deserve that much and more.

After the battle

Thad sat near the fire, it’s radiance casting angular shadows on his face. Corey sat beside him. There was still an awkward…something…between them. A scar that still itched as it became keratosis. Thad opened up the dialogue, chancing a glance at Corey.

I’m sorry my dad brought you into this mess. You didn’t deserve that.

Corey leaned back a bit, savoring the heat but not wanting to get too close. It’s okay. It’ll be nice to be able to focus on somebody else’s mess for once.

Can’t tell if serious. Thad deadpanned.

Hell, me either.

Thad paused before continuing. Dolly told me about Christian. I’m sorry man, I know what he meant to you.

Yeah… Corey breathed, looking out over the fire at the children dancing under the moonlight nearby. It was too much for him, you know? Our lives. They’re fuckin’ insane. And it was just too much.

I’ll drink to that. But, do you think there’s any chance you two could…

No. No, I don’t think so. And I wouldn’t want that for him anyway. I don’t want him to be unhappy.

Thad smiled. You’re a good Corey. Then, another lengthy pause, as though weighing some options. Not to be insensitive, but have you considered that maybe what you need is somebody as weird as you?

Thanks.

Thad chuckled. No, I mean it! Thad nodded his head in Pan’s direction. I couldn’t miss how he was looking at you. Pan was with the children some distance from the fire, recounting the tale of the battle, no doubt.

Pan?! It was Corey’s turn to chuckle. He’s like…I don’t know…how am I supposed to date a fairy tale? Jesus, I can’t believe that’s something that just came out of my mouth.

Well, I don’t know, dating a fairy tale sounds pretty cool to me.

Corey’s mind retreated into the memory of their bodies close together under the shower, when Pan transported them to Neverland from the hospital. How Corey’s lips brushed Pan’s, getting caught up in the heat of the moment, acting on an instinct both right and wrong in one pregnant instant.

It’s too soon.

Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. Thad conceded, attention returning to the fire. So, you gonna help me cancel my dad?

Corey smirked. I don’t know, you gonna kick me in the face again?

Yee-owch. I’ll try not to, but things might get hairy out there. I don’t know if you noticed but I kinda hate the son of a bitch.

Then I think the best thing I can do is give you all the uninterrupted time I can to make things square anyway you see fit.

Thad pointed at Corey. I….cannot argue with that. He wiped his hands on his jeans, indicating a certain degree of anxiety. Are we ok? Like, really ok?

Corey paused to collect his thoughts. It’s going to take some time.

I know…I know…

But you helping me today. Hell, let’s call a spade a spade, you saving my life today, is an excellent start. Thank you again, man. I couldn’t have done this without you.

It was my pleasure. He tossed an errant twig into the fire. It’s gonna take me a while to wrap my head around all the insane shit I saw today. Those little fairy things were eating people, right?

Sure were!

Jesus.

Corey chuckled as he looked at his friend. It’s good to have you back.

It’s good to be back.

They both gazed into the fire after that, allowing the muted silence to speak for them as they simply enjoyed each other’s companies and allowed old wounds to mend in the solitude.

Now

Corey sat amidst the brand new dome arena created exclusively for Fire and Ice. The ring had yet to go up, and workmen scurried this way and that making the final finishing touches to the building. Corey watched them go as he sat in a first row folding seat, legs propped up on the barricade. Oh yeah, you know it.

It’s shit talkin’ time.

“I know Corey. All too well. “ He speaks the words in a mocking tone of voice, steepling his fingers together like some old timey villain.

Bullshit you do, Karma Chameleon.

Look man, unless you’re secretly Dolly Waters, Thad Duke, The Engineer or Lux under that mask, you know fuck all about me. Because those people know me better than anyone else in the XWF. And considering that Lux and The Engineer are dead and neither Thad or Dolly would be caught fuckin’ DEAD being YOU, I’d say I’m pretty safe.

I will give you this though, you do a pretty mean version of Dick. Although it’s probably just a testament to how paper thin his personality is that a tosspot like you could imitate him so well.

So how do you “know” me, Chameleon? Have you been in the ring with me? Have you BEATEN me? You haven’t even been here a month you dipshit. And even if you’ve exhaustively studied reams and reams of my matches, you haven’t had access to anything different than the plethora of other people I’ve beaten. You don’t think they studied my tapes? They got rolled all the same.

You think you got my style down pat though, huh? I mean that IS your deal, right? Adaptation. Insight. Knowledge. Fatality? Babality? BRUTALITY? FINISH HIM! Man fuck you you weren’t even my tenth pick when I was kickin’ it old school with MK Trilogy.

There is only one person that you could have possibly learned my style from, and she lived in my head and she is now deceased. So please, regale me with the secret formula you used to learn my fighting style so succinctly that you can’t possibly lose? Tell me how this time it’ll be different from all the others who sat and watched my past performances and lost. Did you even talk to Thad Duke or Bobby Bourbon? They both beat me, but I’m guessing that little factoid slipped your advanced artificial intelligence matrix or what the fuck ever.

You should probably start thinking about what happens when you lose this match. I mean, that Custodian guy seems like a pretty brutal taskmaster. What are you gonna get repurposed as when you fail? I mean, with your ability to parody others, you might make it as a C-list SNL cast member? Can you do Trump? You might have a chance!

Nah man. Or lady. You’re a joke. But I can’t wait to see the sorry ass impression you do of me. I bet I can name at least three people off the top of my head who’ve done even that much better than you. And yes, Chameleon, yes, I cede the final word to you. If you dare to take it. That’s how confident I am here. Because there is no trite bit of verbal soggy shits you could possibly muster that will make you look any less stupid or overconfident in this situation. Oh man, I’m gonna LOVE hate watching it though! Nothing gets me revved up like watching terrible, dull, obtuse promos. And you sir/madam, you are just the bees knees when it comes to that.

So let’s go on to someone who I have a modicum of interest in. Somebody who’s more than just a “warmed over everyone else”.

Jay Omega, of course!

Corey sucks in a breath and clutches his hands together.

You have a pet dinosaur named LITTLE COREY?! Squeeeeee!

Okay, not named after me, but still, fuckin LOOOOOOVE IT!

But first of all, I think we need to address the roughly dinosaur shaped elephant in the room here. Vinnie? Theo? Guys. This is now TWO potential opponents that have zero interest in actual winning my championship. What the hell is going on here? You couldn’t find five whole people who want the thing? And hell, two more of them haven’t even bothered to cut a promo! There is like, negative interest in anyone actually winning this thing. I’m almost tempted to be offended. I mean, I know it may not be as sexy as Peter Vaughn’s Universal championship (spoilers), but it’s still pretty cool. I’m champion of all of Warfare, the unquestioned A-show of the XWF!

Man!

So, anyway, Jay I’m going to ask you the same thing I asked Dick. Why are you here? I mean, okay, okay, you’re here because you’re contractually obligated to be. But what is your presence in this match? Are you going to try if you don’t even really want to be here? It kinda makes that whole “gonna do everything in my power to win” thing seem kinda…bullshit. Sure, there’s the feather in your cap of beating me, but let’s face facts. By YOUR own admission you don’t have a hell of a lot of motivation here. I do. I actually CARE about this championship and this division. And I’m nowhere near ready to lose this title.

But I do have some good news for you. You said you want full throttle Corey Smith? Oh ho ho BOY I don’t know how to do anything but! So in that regard you are in for a treat. You know what’s not gonna be a treat for you? “Keeping things slow and methodical”. Again, your words. You see, I don’t do anything slow and methodical. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty fast. So you walking in there semi gassed and wanting to put on some kind of mid-range technical clinic isn’t gonna wash when I’m kicking you in the face five ways from Sunday. Just a friendly word of warning for ya!

All that being said, you’re still a pretty okay guy in my book. And your life might just somehow be more insane than mine. I have NEVER been to hell. Went to limbo once to talk to a deceased former Universal Champion. That was a wild ride. But hell? No me gusta.

Ahhhhh. This of course leaves us with….the rest. The also rans. The quiet ones. The uninvested. Dick. Rampage. That guy who was going to be my number one favoritest opponent but now I can’t even remember his name because GOD DAMMIT I AM JUST SO DISSAPPOINTED IN YOU!

None a ya’all are gonna win. If the talky effort you guys have put forth is any indication, you have even less motivation going into this match than Jay Omega. And that guy straight up said he has no interest in being Supercontinental Champion. Yikes.

So, here’s what I’m going to recommend. We all know it ain’t gonna be you. Soooo, how about you just don’t show up? I want a good fight, guys! And poor Jay Omega already admitted he won’t be 100%! So I move that we just cull the chaff from the wheat straight away, let Chameleon and Jay thrown down by themselves, and then I might…MIGHT!...still get to have a relatively fresh Jay Omega to fight.

Can we do that?

I believe in you. I believe in all three of you guys’ collective ability to fail miserably.

So let’s do this!

Corey pumps a fist in the air and mouths “yeah!”

Final thought. I’m dedicating this match to two people. Thad Duke and Lux. Thad Duke because he is once again my friend and I have to referee his fight with his stupid dad earlier in the evening.

And Lux. Because, and here’s another one of my motivators, I see this title reign as the spiritual successor to her TV title reign. The very same reign that propelled her to the Universal Championship, even though it was cruelly stolen from her by The Engineer. When she lived within me, she fought week after week against all comers, defending that title even as she tried to save the world in the background. And she did it because she knew that competition matters. That these accolades in the XWF MATTER. Yes, even the Anarchy Championship.

Kidding! Sorta.

So, that’s why it kind of chaffs my nuts to hear that two of you don’t even want it and two of you couldn’t even be bothered to speak on it. THIS MATTERS. Regardless of what any of you have to say or not say about it. And I’m going to defend it like it matters.

Corey kicks his feet down off the barricade and gets up, giving the camera a small salute as he steps off to stage right.

Elsewhere

So, I guess….I guess I just wish you the best. I want you to be happy, even if its without me. And even though it’s over, I hope you find something good to reflect back on. I’ll always treasure the time we had.

I heard a phrase once. “We will stay and you will go.” I thought a lot about what that means. I think it means, for us, though you may be gone, what we had is forever. It’s immutable. I like the sound of that. Bittersweet as it is.

I love you, Christian. Be happy.

Christian is seated on a toilet with the seat down, in a run down bathroom stall at an equally run down pit stop. The Greyhound bus idled in the parking lot, and he knew he didn’t have much time.

“I love you, Christian” Be happy.”

Christian pulled the phone down from his ear, having finished Corey’s voicemail. He sat staring at the phone for a protracted minute, emotions roiling hot within him. The tears started to emerge, slowly at first, but then at a rapid clip, soaking his cheeks and blurring the sight of the phone’s screen.

I can’t. I can’t…. He choked.

Christian went to his text messages and opened up his texts with Corey. There were a number of them, all unanswered. Biting down on his bottom lip, he finally started a response.

Corey, please know that I love you. It was just getting to be too much. I needed some time away. But I’ve had plenty of time to think to. And I’ve decided I still want you in my life. This isn’t forever. Just for a little bit. I will be back, I swear I’ll…

There was a knock at the stall door. Christian looked up.

Just a minute.

He looked back down at the phone, but before he could resume his text the knock came again, more insistent this time.

I said hold on!

Another knock. Harder. Louder. Chrstian stymied a curse and got up, opening the door.

Look man, I said….!

He didn’t even feel the first blade strike as it plunged deep into his guts. Riding high on shock, he only noted the fiercness in the stranger’s eyes.

[Image: ec30641e86978e9c4f80e2ad4bacd8d968-27-xx...e.w700.jpg]

[Image: ec30641e86978e9c4f80e2ad4bacd8d968-27-xx...e.w700.jpg]

But he felt the second turn of the blade, and then the third, and then the fourth. Christian collapsed back into the stall, holding his hands up to his abdomen as far too much blood was freed.

Oh God…oh God….

His phone slipped from his bloodied hands, clattering to the floor. And he suddenly felt cold, very cold. An incessant buzz began to sound in his ears. To the point that he could barely hear the stranger’s words.

I am The Engineer.

He brought his heel down on the phone, shattering it.

Message unsent.]]> I know you’re hurting right now. And I know it’s because of me. There aren’t enough words to describe how badly I’ve screwed this up. Baby, I’m so sorry.

I’m sitting here thinking how much I’d like to be laying next to you in bed, just watching the rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. I’m thinking about how I want to hear your heartbeat against my face. I’m thinking about how I want to hold your hand as I drive, bringing it up to my lips every so often to kiss it.

Jesus…that’s all gone, isn’t it?

It’s all gone.

Before

After the battle

Now

Elsewhere

TK is still putting files into place the rejected side heavily outweighs the considered side. TK looks a bit stressed out, this isn't normally his thing.

FUCKING SHIT!

From across the room, Mr. BOB's voice can be heard.

What's wrong, Thunder Knuckles?

This shit is driving me crazy Mr. BOB!

Mr. BOB brings over a beer to calm TK. Once the beer is in hand he cracks it open and takes a big swig.

I'm fine but there are so many files from the past and present. It's goddamn overwhelming.

Bobby Bourbon's file finally comes across TK's hand. He immediately, without hesitation, puts it atop Charlie's already approved file. Hoping that his best friend will be found soon. TK takes a couple more big swigs of his beer.

I can take over if you'd like.

TK looks over at Mr. BOB instead of the folders placed in front of him.

I'll take a goddamn break soon. When I do I need you to contact these people.

TK points to the pile for potential candidates that's when he notices the next file.

Hmm. That'd fucking weird. How the fuck did this get here?

TK grabs the file labeled Alias.

Not a chance.

TK tosses it like frisbee as papers scatter everywhere Mr. BOB walks out of the room. TK holds up his beer lightly shakes it from side to side, not spilling a drop, It's already pretty low.

Hey, grab me another beer while you're out.

TK grabs another file and starts skimming through it.

Interesting.

He gets farther into this file and visibly seems impressed.

He can be an asset. He's been wrestling since he was 16. He's a multi-time champion in various promotions. Hell, won World Championships.

TK flips to the next page in the file and shakes his head.

Yeah, but, he's kept some pretty damn bad company. Then again, I don't keep the best fucking company either.

TK looks at the already excepted pile. It has two people in it and they're no good bastards. He smirks before flipping to the next page.

Yep, I'll never forget that. Plus, I don't know about his tag partner though.

TK again flips to the next page.

Bobby's apple pie sandwich.

TK looks at it at Mr. Bob.

That's not apple pie.

No, it's not. It's an apple pie sandwich. It's specific to Bobby's recipe. It has thinly sliced Granny Smith apples, half a cup of mascarpone cheese, two teaspoons of honey. Spread on cinnamon raisin bread. Grilled in a panini press and topped with whipped cream.

Where is my beer?

Mr. BOB reaches to his calf. Where TK had Bobby design a refrigerated beer holster like Robocop's gun holster. Mr. BOB pulls out a Michelob Ultra and hands it to TK.

What the fuck is this?

You need to watch your calories.

TK shrugs giving a "meh" face.

Whatever gets the job done.

TK takes

Speaking of jobs. Have you completed your list?

TK looks around at all the assorted folders.

Does it look like I finished?

No. It looks like you're getting nowhere. I can compile all this data in a few minutes.

TK turns his head away from Mr. BOB and mockingly says exactly what Mr. BOB just said in a condescending tone.

I can compile all this data in a few minutes.

His condescending tone is lifted.

Oh yeah, let's see it then.

Mr. BOB walks as he gets close TK stands up and walks away thinking to himself that this task isn't as easy as it looks.

I have to go piss. Let's see how fucking far you get.

TK takes off to the bathroom. While he's gone Mr. BOB doesn't just complete the task. Mr. BOB has the prospects' folders in alphabetical order. When TK comes back he's stunned.

What? How? You have to be shitting me.

I do not defecate.

TK looks at Mr. BOB.

No shit.

Correct.

TK shakes his head because he arguing with a roBOB.

Let's see what you got.

TK starts picking up files and notices that he agrees with what he's seeing.

So, you're telling me. That I didn't have to do anything and you could have narrowed all this down, that goddamn quick?

I asked if you wanted assistance. You said no.

TK's eyes narrow at Mr. BOB.

You didn't say a damn thing about how fast you could do it.

I'm programmed to listen to you and Bobby Bourbon. You said you could do it.

TK sighs.

Yeah-

TK's defensive mechanism kicks in.

-and I fucking could have too.

I know. It would have just taken longer.

Shut up and go plug yourself in.

Mr. BOB does what he's programmed to do and follows TK's direction. TK looks into the camera.

Fuck me! I forgot you guys were here. I bet you're waiting for me to go full razzle dazzle on Jason Cashe, huh?

TK starts looking throw the first file placed atop the newly formed pile.

I'm a busy, dude. Do you know what kinda pressure I'm under here? You can't do what I'm doing right now and except awesome-ass fucking explosions. Hell, I can walk right over to that machine right there-

TK points to his left and the cameraman focuses on a mechanism.

-and open a wormhole that leads to a cave with a ten-foot-tall lizard creature, that stands like we do, with a razor spiked dick on it. Why's it have a spiked dick? I don't know, but damn sure would spice this shit up, wouldn't it?

The cameraman swing back to TK.

No, I'm taking care of some serious fucking business, Robert Main level serious. This shit can't be wrong. It has to be on fucking point. Take this guy for instance Big Money Oswald. This guy, right here, he's a loyal-ass dude. That's something that most people in the business have no clue how to be. Look at Thad, for fucks sake. His old man fucking brought that kid up through the business and Thad is trying to delete the fucker from existence. Where's the fucking loyalty? Not that I give a fuck what happens to the old man. I'm making a goddamn point here.

TK picks up another folder from the prospect pile that he already laid aside.

Barney Green. What can I say? He's the granddaddy of violence. Someone who has taught 'Ol Thunder Knuckles more about Xtreme matches than I ever thought I could learn. Like this, bring a car battery to the ring with some jumper cable and attach them to your opponent's nuts. Why? Because it'll look awesome as fuck on TV, duh! He's fucking right too. That would be dope as Hell to tune into! Better yet, take a pair of UFC gloves and dip those mother fuckers in glue and roll that shit in broken glass, like in Kickboxer with Jean Jean-Claude Van Damme.

TK pauses for a minute because he, for a moment, thinks it's Bloodsport. He quickly shakes it off cause he knows he's right.

Fucking awesome. Anyway, Barney is a wealth of knowledge when it comes to that shit and he's an essential part of any goddamn plan.

TK guzzles down the rest of his Michelob Ultra.

God, that tastes like piss.

TK looks over at Mr. BOB.

Yo, Mr. BOB, another beer.

Mr. BOB tosses TK another beer from his refrigerated calf holster. TK catches it and twists the top off as TK starts to take a drink. The wormhole machine kicks on.

What the fuck?

A wormhole opens and a ten-foot-tall lizard walking on its hind legs walks out.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

TK covers his ear right before the lizard screeches a deafening squeal. The lizard charges TK. TK quickly gets to his feet and grabs the thick metal plate that Mr. BOB brought Bobby's apple pie sandwich on. When TK does this it knocks over the folders scattering them all over the floor. The lizard has closed the gap and tries to stab TK with its razor-sharp penis. Before it could thrust its member inside of TK, thus mortally wounding him. TK blocks its attack with the plate.

You're not going to Eobard Stone me, mother fucker!

TK takes the metal plate and hits the lizard in the throat knocking it on its back. While the lizard gasps for air TK grabs its right ankle and delivers a Thunder Strike, knocking the creature out cold. TK looks over at Mr. BOB.

A little help would have been fucking nice.

The odds of your survival were ninety-nine point nine percent.

Well, would you at least help me throw this fucker back into the goddamn wormhole? I've always been told this thing can be useful.

Mr. BOB walks over to the creature, where TK is standing. With ease, Mr. BOB picks up the ten-foot-tall lizard, walks it over to the wormhole, and tosses it in effortlessly.

How did that machine even fucking turn on?

Mr. BOB walks over to the wormhole device and hooks up to it to figure out how it turned itself on.

It was turned on by remote.

Who the fuck turned it on? We all had fucking access codes. Who's access code, was it?

Mr. BOB quickly answers.

Miss Fury.

Bullshit, she's dead.

TK walks over to the supercomputer and pulls up Miss Fury's file. It even shows the events of her death at Halloween Hell on the large holographic monitor. TK kind of smirks while he watches Jessica get torn to pieces.

Not quite a bridge but that'll prove a point later. Fucking Page.

Those were the access codes used.

TK is livid because someone just tried to kill him with Fury's access codes.

You're good at that shit, damn it. Set it up to where it denies all access to everything in headquarter. Everyone except for Bobby Bourbon, you, and me. Got it?

Mr. BOB nods and walks over to the supercomputer to deny all access to BOB's equipment within the headquarters. TK notices that his beer has been knocked over before. That's when he realizes that all the folders are now scattered all over the floor.

Goddamn it!

TK looks back at Mr. BOB, who's working on what it was just put on to task to do. TK knows he has to start all over. He throws out both his hands in a huff, bushing off the situation.

Fuck it! I'm done for now. I'm taking a break Mr. BOB. I'll fucking be back later.

The camera crew follows the fed-up TK. The longer they follow him the more perturbed he looks. Until he finally turns around to give them what they want so that they will leave him alone.

The problem with the things Jason Cashe says isn't what he's saying. He can take useless nonsense and spin it to sound like he knows what the fuck he's talking about. Pretty fucking clever but absolutely no one can replace Bobby Bourbon. You better go back and start reading the good book, Jason. We'll get to that later. For now, though, the fact that you think I'd ever replace Bobby or take his place, for that matter, makes you dumber than I thought. We are a team and having each other's backs is what teammates do. Still to this day in this moment I have Bobby Bourbon's back. Maybe I oversold your abilities. Fuck it, I hope I did, It worked for Main for over a year. Back on point, Charlie was brought into our bastardly ways because of Bobby. Because of that, Charlie had my back. Do you see how that shit works? You'd know that if you paid more attention to what was going on around you, instead of just the turds you shit out. Feel me? Why are Those No Good Bastards, a completely different team, not fighting DOA? That score can only be settled by Them No Good Bastards and DOA and you know it. It's a goddamn fact that one day, it will. Maybe not here, but who knows? We'll find a venue where that will air that match of epic proportion and the pleasure will be all ours. All while the four of us make whatever company that allows it, a metric shit ton of fucking money.

TK's cellphone dings with a notification. He ignores it for a moment as he continues.

I do have a damn question though. How the fuck is the same guy who says shit like Them No Good Bastards needed to make sure DOA didn't ruin our return like they ruined our celebration back at Relentless and in OCW when they beat us for the OCWs Tag Titles. Then go on to brag about how your time in XWF you have been having matches with no rules. Bro, sit the fucking joint down you're not making any fucking sense. Your self-preservation bullshit stinks as bad as our last match. I hope you're ready to go harder than Liquid Swords because to be the number one contender for the Xtreme Championship, that's exactly what you'll have to do.

TK pulls out his cell phone and looks at the notification confused.

I didn't fucking order anything from Sri Lanka to be delivered to the custom-built dome in Reykjavik. What the fuck?

TK shrugs and thinks that maybe Jimmy ordered something.

I wasn't wrong about something though. You certainly showed me who needs Bourbon's help. Hell, one could even say "hold their hand" in a one-on-one match, didn't ya? Can't wait for that beer in Iceland, Cashe. I'll be buying seeing as I'll get that sick-ass winners bonus. The biggest mistake anyone could make is not keeping their eye on Jason Cashe. This guy is going to blow the fuck up after Fire and Ice. Mark my fucking words XWF fans. That is if he stays the fuck away from Chris Page! Bro, don't go down that rabbit hole. CCPE is a pyramid scheme waiting to bait you. I know a thing about pyramid schemes and Chris Page. They'll both leave you thinking about what the fuck went wrong. That is if you're not smart enough to catch it. You go down that path you'll end up broke and alone. Check Page's history with people. They usually end up driving off bridges, one way or another.

TK's eyes narrow ready to lay down the truth.

Enough niceties because unfortunately for you, Jason. Lord Diamond has personally instructed me to make Lord Vincent Lane look like a dancing fool. Lord Diamond is expecting to clean the fuck up. Walking away tall with four victories. I'll let you do the math. Especially in our match which decides who gets to challenge for the Xtreme Championship. I want to promise you personally, Cashe. My promise of blood, rivers of it. Neither of us will give up because we're not made that way. We will both enter ready to kill each other for our house's name but only one of us is going to come out on top and I'm not a bottom kinda guy. I'm more of a tit man myself.

TK smiles thinking about big-breasted bitches. He looks up with his hands pressed together like he's praying and then looks back into the camera placing his arms to his side.

I'm proud of you my son. You have learned the ways of the Bastard and have practiced the teaching to the letter. Except you missed Sunday school because you came in late just to catch the sermon. You see, there's still far more for you to learn. Take for example, in the book of Bourbon. The commandments are laid out pretty simple.

TK takes his hand to shows the camera his index finger.

Commandment one, "Thou shalt not fuckith with the Bastards". You have broken this commandment time and time again. Yet, we still embrace you as one of our own.

TK extends his middle finger along with his index finger.

Commandment two, "Thou shalt not bow down to no man and worship them". You're so goddamn lucky Brother Bourbon doesn't count retweeting thot pictures on Twitter.

TK's unmistakable girn is flashed while putting up his ring finger then his pinky and continues speaking.

The next two you are again guilty of in sades. Commandment three, "Thou shalt not taketh the Bastard's name in vain". Commandment four, "Thou shalt not give false testimony against your Bastardly Brothers" Oh, yeah, using the Bastard name to prop yourself while pushing a narrative that Ol' Thunder Knuckles would replace Brother Bourbon. Tisk-tisk.

TK protracts his thumb to join his other fingers.

Commandment five, "Thou shalt not covet anything that belongs to your Bastardly Brother". This one you are breaking right now, Brother Cashe. You're coveting my stake as the number one contender to the Xtreme title and for that, I will personally be sending your ass to Hell for it.

TK crushes his hand into a fist.

That is if you don't ask for forgiveness. That's solely on you. We never make anyone do anything. Regardless, I'm going to be baptizing your ass in fire live on Pay Per View on January thirtieth and putting your chances of gold on ice. Well, at least for now.

TK bows at the cameraman. Which should signal the end of this promo. but the cameraman keeps rolling.

Seriously, mother fucker, that's it. Go home. Turn off the fucking camera.

The cameraman keeps rolling until TK knocks the camera out of the cameraman's grasp, thus breaking the camera, and sending the picture into black.

]]>

]]> <![CDATA[Fortune Favors The Bold]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42788 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 14:37:32 -0800 ElijahMartin]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42788 I find myself extremely relaxed, sitting in the first class section of a flight from New York City to Reykjavik all to myself, holding a glass of champagne in my left hand and draping my right arm across the lap of the vivacious Lexi Gold. Don’t worry, the Anarchy Championship is safe and sound inside the carry-on bag stored above my head, where it shall remain for a very long time. Lexi is wearing a tight green dress and also having a glass of champagne herself, while I’m in a navy blue polo and khaki pants, enjoying the privacy and serenity of being all to ourselves.

LG: This is a pretty nice setup we got here.

EM: Yeah, that Chris Page dude really knows how to take care of his clients.

LG: You’ve been working really hard since you got to the XWF and I’m so proud of what you’ve been able to accomplish so far, babe.

EM: Thank you love, but this is only just the beginning - the future is very bright for both of us, especially with your championship tournament opportunity coming up on Madness.

LG: I can only hope so, I’ve been working pretty hard training with you the last couple of months, so I’m praying that it all pays off in the end.

EM: I have confidence that you will give a tremendous representation of yourself in that tournament - even if you don’t somehow come away with the title, you’re gonna show that you are a force in the future.

Lexi lean in and gives Elijah a kiss.

LG: Thanks hun. As long as we continue to support each other, there’s no telling how much we can achieve. I hope you know that even though I’m not completely sold on aligning yourself with CCP Enterprises, I…

EM: I know you’re always going to be in my corner, and I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.

Lexi and Elijah share one more kiss, before Lexi stands up with a purse in her hand and makes her way towards the bathroom.

Over the last week, I’ve been getting asked constantly about my decision to join forces with Chronic Chris Page as a client of CCP Enterprises, as well as how this all came to be. Let’s begin with calling a spade a spade - him and I both share a common interest in the permanent demise of Centurion, so conversations began around the time that piece of shit became the Anarchy Champion and I still had my guaranteed title shot in my back pocket from the contenders match I won back at Relentless. After a pair of business meetings, Chris and I came to a very simple agreement - get the Anarchy Championship off of Andy, then he would take care of the rest.

Let’s also be honest with ourselves about something else people keep asking in regards to last week - Lord Raab was never, EVER going to beat me! In the days leading up to that match, I gave the same explicit instruction to Lexi time and time again - under no circumstances was she to even THINK ABOUT throwing in the towel to end the match on my behalf.

Ever since the events of last week’s Anarchy and being able to soak in the fact I have joined the fastest rising stable in professional wrestling today, I have been trying to find a way to compare CCP Enterprises against the rest of the poor souls we will have to decimate en route to worldwide dominance. A perfect example of what to expect will be showcased this Sunday at the Fire and Ice show, when I defend my Anarchy Championship for the first time against Barney Green.

Let’s take a trip back in our imaginary time machine to medieval times known as the Middle Ages. This period is remembered by historians as three sub periods - Early, High and Late. At this point in time, CCP Enterprises is living in the Early Middle Ages, which saw the fall of the Western and Eastern Roman Empires due to mass migration and invasions. We have gone all over the wrestling world, planting our flags and winning championships as we continue invading one territory after another. The army continues to grow as we migrate anywhere we feel like going, burrowing thru anyone who stands in our way.

Barney Green is nothing more than a poor lamb being led to the sacrificial slaughter - the XWF doesn’t have the balls to give me a viable opponent this weekend like LSM or Jason Cashe or Hunter Ryan… damn, not even a rubber match with Andy, because they saw how vicious I have become and the administration wants to keep their Golden Boy as healthy as they can so he can CHOOSE when he retires instead of being FORCED into retirement!

There’s an old saying I’ve always kept in my head throughout my wrestling career - Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat. To translate, fortune favors the bold. I have done nothing but make bold decisions and bold statements over the course of my entire career, including my recent domination of Centurion to become Anarchy Champion and my new partnership with CCP Enterprises, which is comprised of the greatest talents in the business that share that same mentality that I have. In the case of poor Barney Green, he believes fortune favors the stupid or fortune favors dumb luck. The big problem for Barney - it’s going to take A LOT MORE than stupidity and dumb luck to separate me from my Anarchy Championship. Our match at Fire and Ice is going to be completely one-sided and allow me to show the entire world that CCP Enterprises is going to be around for a long, long time!]]> I find myself extremely relaxed, sitting in the first class section of a flight from New York City to Reykjavik all to myself, holding a glass of champagne in my left hand and draping my right arm across the lap of the vivacious Lexi Gold. Don’t worry, the Anarchy Championship is safe and sound inside the carry-on bag stored above my head, where it shall remain for a very long time. Lexi is wearing a tight green dress and also having a glass of champagne herself, while I’m in a navy blue polo and khaki pants, enjoying the privacy and serenity of being all to ourselves.

LG: This is a pretty nice setup we got here.

EM: Yeah, that Chris Page dude really knows how to take care of his clients.

LG: You’ve been working really hard since you got to the XWF and I’m so proud of what you’ve been able to accomplish so far, babe.

EM: Thank you love, but this is only just the beginning - the future is very bright for both of us, especially with your championship tournament opportunity coming up on Madness.

LG: I can only hope so, I’ve been working pretty hard training with you the last couple of months, so I’m praying that it all pays off in the end.

EM: I have confidence that you will give a tremendous representation of yourself in that tournament - even if you don’t somehow come away with the title, you’re gonna show that you are a force in the future.

Lexi lean in and gives Elijah a kiss.

LG: Thanks hun. As long as we continue to support each other, there’s no telling how much we can achieve. I hope you know that even though I’m not completely sold on aligning yourself with CCP Enterprises, I…

EM: I know you’re always going to be in my corner, and I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.

Lexi and Elijah share one more kiss, before Lexi stands up with a purse in her hand and makes her way towards the bathroom.

Over the last week, I’ve been getting asked constantly about my decision to join forces with Chronic Chris Page as a client of CCP Enterprises, as well as how this all came to be. Let’s begin with calling a spade a spade - him and I both share a common interest in the permanent demise of Centurion, so conversations began around the time that piece of shit became the Anarchy Champion and I still had my guaranteed title shot in my back pocket from the contenders match I won back at Relentless. After a pair of business meetings, Chris and I came to a very simple agreement - get the Anarchy Championship off of Andy, then he would take care of the rest.

Let’s also be honest with ourselves about something else people keep asking in regards to last week - Lord Raab was never, EVER going to beat me! In the days leading up to that match, I gave the same explicit instruction to Lexi time and time again - under no circumstances was she to even THINK ABOUT throwing in the towel to end the match on my behalf.

Ever since the events of last week’s Anarchy and being able to soak in the fact I have joined the fastest rising stable in professional wrestling today, I have been trying to find a way to compare CCP Enterprises against the rest of the poor souls we will have to decimate en route to worldwide dominance. A perfect example of what to expect will be showcased this Sunday at the Fire and Ice show, when I defend my Anarchy Championship for the first time against Barney Green.

Let’s take a trip back in our imaginary time machine to medieval times known as the Middle Ages. This period is remembered by historians as three sub periods - Early, High and Late. At this point in time, CCP Enterprises is living in the Early Middle Ages, which saw the fall of the Western and Eastern Roman Empires due to mass migration and invasions. We have gone all over the wrestling world, planting our flags and winning championships as we continue invading one territory after another. The army continues to grow as we migrate anywhere we feel like going, burrowing thru anyone who stands in our way.

Barney Green is nothing more than a poor lamb being led to the sacrificial slaughter - the XWF doesn’t have the balls to give me a viable opponent this weekend like LSM or Jason Cashe or Hunter Ryan… damn, not even a rubber match with Andy, because they saw how vicious I have become and the administration wants to keep their Golden Boy as healthy as they can so he can CHOOSE when he retires instead of being FORCED into retirement!

There’s an old saying I’ve always kept in my head throughout my wrestling career - Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat. To translate, fortune favors the bold. I have done nothing but make bold decisions and bold statements over the course of my entire career, including my recent domination of Centurion to become Anarchy Champion and my new partnership with CCP Enterprises, which is comprised of the greatest talents in the business that share that same mentality that I have. In the case of poor Barney Green, he believes fortune favors the stupid or fortune favors dumb luck. The big problem for Barney - it’s going to take A LOT MORE than stupidity and dumb luck to separate me from my Anarchy Championship. Our match at Fire and Ice is going to be completely one-sided and allow me to show the entire world that CCP Enterprises is going to be around for a long, long time!]]> <![CDATA[Yearning & Improvement]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42748 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 10:59:32 -0800 The Chameleon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42748

Arpeggio

Part 2-A(nal):

Yearning

My steed slows down as the large, stiff tower the princess lives upon cums into sight.

No, I'm not talking about what's in my pants.

The Custodian and Darcy Ellis eye the screen as the DP program begins, its unsettling volume of innuendo apparent immediately.

"Is it really necessary for us to, y'know, watch this?"

"Certain sacrifices must be made in the interest of comprehensiveness. This is one of them."

The breeze picks up, lifting the hair from my head and swaying it out back and upwards with the sexual subtlety of an Old Spice ad. Yeah, it might be a wig, but those are the concessions when your head is a featureless chrome dome. Doesn't stop the ladies from loving my better baldheaded feature. My horse gallops to the base of the Princess's Tower, sitting down so I can step off effortlessly like the sexy beast I am. I slap his rear to get him to start prancing away, watching proudly as his floppy horse penis dangles with every step. I don't stare because of any weird bestiality fetish, that would be disgusting. I stare because he's hung like a Chameleon. Walking up to the stonework that comprises the tower, I lift up a boombox playing P!nk's Get This Party Started. She steps to the balcony out above me, allowing me to finally gaze upon her beauty. Her hair is renowned across the land, long and silky to the tough, however her head is as bald as mine. Her eyes peer down at my flawless form as I strike a sensual pose for her amusement. Turning the boombox off, I admire the curves and shape of her body from below. She is the striking image of the fairest maiden. The pinnacle of beauty from within and without. And I want to plow her fields like a fleshy subsoiler.

"Racuntzel, Racuntzel! Let down your hair, babe!"

"Uh... are you gonna climb my pubes?"

"That's the idea, sweetie."

"That... that doesn't sound pleasant in the slightest."

I shrug, disappointed but sympathetic enough to her discomfort with the idea. I've had bad enough experiences getting my pear garden caught in a zipper, let alone having a grown ass man tugging down there. My hands are very familiar sliding up large cylinders, so I grip onto the bricks of the tower, pulling myself up its length until I climb all the way up to the balcony, barely winded, seven hours later.

Flawless.

The Princess of Bo'neria, Clie Maxx, sits sunk in a large sofa, absorbed in an episode of Scrubs. She barely even notices my making to the top, giving a weak smile and wave as I hobble into her chambers, gasping for air in a lustful way. I literally crawl onto the sofa next to her, more than prepared to turn this sofa into a love seat once my heartrate lowers. I go to whisper sweet nothings in her ears, only for her to raise and finger and press it to my lips, pushing me further away from Ms. Maxx while she finishes her episode of Scrubs, her frilly princess dress covered with multiple pizza stains from a frozen 'za laying out beside her on a bed of her long, luxurious pubic hairs. As the ending credits played, she paused the playback with a lazy press of a remote. She sighed in an unimpressed manner as she turned to face me.

"So, what do you want exactly?"

"I want to freak you like a 20-year old at his first Prince concert."

She gave me a very light, uninterested chuckle and smile. Being of royal blood must give her some arcane qualities to dispel my pants magic. I await her explanation with the most seductive of tears welling in my eyes.

"Look, I'm not trying to be mean or anything, I'm just not into... dudes."

Oh! She's a lesbian! No need for teary eyes now when I know I never had a chance with her in the first place! ALRIGHT!

"Well, specifically you."

We'll just ignore that part for the sake of not getting emotional again! Now that I know she isn't a potential recipient to a molten sperm donation, I can move onto my real reason for cumming here. I easily pull out a VCR from my back pocket, VHS tape already inside of it and begin to hook it up to her TV.

"Well, if we're not doing the deed, then I think it's appropriate that I show you my brand new pitch for Bo'neria's new favorite icy treat!"

She gave a confused head tilt before shrugging and rolling her eyes slightly.

"Go ahead, I guess."

I unfold a large promotional poster showing off my new popsicle sensation in the making: Chameleoncicles! They are a normal popsicle but at the end is my head! I stand proudly in front of her as she inspects the advertisement, a little uncertain about what I've shown her.

"You want to make popsicles named after you that are shaped like cocks?"

"What?! No, these have my face at the end of them!"

"But you don't have a face, so it just kinda looks like a dicksicle to be honest."

"Uh, no! A dicksicle would have balls at the end of it! These don't have balls! Look, I love to slam as much as the next Master of Dicksaster, but these Chameleoncicles are not sexual in the slightest. Look, I made a commercial just to show you how serious I am about this product!"

I press play on the VCR and hop on the sofa at a respectful distance away from the princess, ready to watch this masterpiece of visual storytelling and product branding.

Two women wearing revealing ice cream lady outfits with a single white tee as the only upper body wear are having a water gun fight on a hot summer day in front of their ice cream truck.

"I can wait to give out all these yummy treats on this hot, hot day!" One says to the other, pressing a dripping wet towel against her chest.

"It's a good thing we have plenty of chilly snacks for all of the local brothels, strip clubs, and orphanages!" The other responds.

But suddenly, they begin to get terrorized by a poorly edited and scaled jpeg of Dick Powers! The image "spills" the ice chests near them with the power of editing as the two women run around the screen with their best screams possible. Who will save these poor women from this two dimensional devil? You know it's gonna be me, baby! I leap out in front of the jpeg and strike him into the sun with a super cool Karate Kid crane kick. The two women come up to me to tend to my wounds and feel up my muscles.

"Oh, you saved us from that naughty Dick Powers!"

"Not only did I rescue you two from that creep, but also from the concept of nuclear fusion itself!" I shout, pulling out a box of Chameleoncicles, allowing one of them to shove one of the cicles into her mouth whole in an incredibly normal and platonic fashion.

"Do you have anything else to say to that bad man, Mr. Chameleon?"

I sigh, shrugging and letting the cold wind released from the box of my product run through my wig.

"Oh, I guess I do."

"Daddy's been doing wrist workouts and it's time to start spanking."

"Dicky boy! Honestly, I thought I'd be a lot happier when I finally got to talking about you because I figured, "Hey, here's the guy who gets me better than anybody! We're like two peas in a pod, two balls in a sack, two poles with the same goals!" And while you first appear to me a fellow blackbelt in Kung Fuck such as myself, you're a little more limp, Dick. And I'm not just talking about your wrists."

"For a guy who is supposedly the source of the world's sexual energy, you pass out in the ring faster than a virgin getting his first blowie. The "King of SEXtreme?" More like "The One Pump Chump with the slumped plump stump." Where's all that Power going, buddy, 'cuz it obviously ain't showing up in the squared circle or in bed. C'mon, Death herself has kicked you out of the afterlife how many times now? Sure, I might not be the best ever in bed, but even I could please a gal well enough to where she stops sending me back to shallow graves."

"I remember hearing about you getting your mojo back and I was so overjoyed for you! I was certain that you'd take that Time Viagra and balls deep go where no man has gone before, but instead you just kept shooting blanks even more than before! I once hoped that The Slambassador and The Chambassador could peruse the most cumly of maidens out there alongside one another, but you lost sight of what really counts. You're wrestling to look less bad than you did the week before. You're pussy dipping for the stop at the end. Whor-est for the trees and all that. You need to reASSess, Powers, because all this promiscuity is for naught if all you do is get pinned in and out of bed."

"So, bring your endurance and try to outlast The Archduke of the Arched Back. You won't. Because at the end of the day nothing you do is revolutionary as a wrestler in the sheets or otherwise. You're old news because you can't reinvent. And experimentation is the lifeblood of a healthy sex life, my friend. All you do is thrust and bust time and time again, but you'll never be the best so you don't even bother trying. You know there'll always be somebody bigger than you or faster than you or more willing to go outside the box, so you keep getting smaller and smaller. Put simply, you know the truth, Powers."

"There's always a bigger Dick."

The two bodacious babes begin bouncing as I finish up my promo, taking a celebratory bite of one of my (not penis shaped) Chameleoncicles. I watch as their features jiggle in their less-than-concealing outfits, nodding my head in that "you know how absolutely fucking rad this is" sort of way. One runs a hand down my arm, her plasticky lip clenched between her teeth as she groans in an intoxicating manner.

"Oh, Mr. Chameleon! Thank you so much for telling off that bad, naughty Mr. Dick!"

"No need to thank me, honey. It's all in a day's work and it's really...

nut a throblem

I glance at the camera with my legendary smolder and I see something in the lens. It's tiny and my eyes almost don't focus on it with the thick air of sexiness surrounding me, but it catches my attention nonetheless. I see me. Not the reflection off of the lens's glass, but me watching the video tape of the commercial with the princess. How is that-

-possible? I stare into the television at him..? At me? I am staring at myself. What constitutes I if "I" am simultaneously in there and out here.

"Are you feeling okay, man?"

I'm supposed to react to her words. The Chameleon is supposed to react to what she said. But which Chameleon? Which one is me? Are both me? If I'm both, then why does the other feel different when I'm looking at him? I... I try to think but I don't even know if those are my thoughts anymore. The longer I stare, the more the boundaries between us start to shatter and fragment, like a shaky fist through brittle glass. We walk towards the screen and the lens. Both of us independently and yet intertwined. I can't tell if I'm doing the moving or if the moving is happening to me anymore. To us? Who are they? If I'm The Chameleon and I see myself and I don't know who that is, then who am I? Who is The Cham-

The world stops with a few muffled shouts through the other side of the chamber as my consciousness fades. When I finally come to, I wake up like I always do:

In a dark room, unsure if what I'm going through is real.

Part 2-B:
Improvement

"Name."

"Hayato Okamoto."

"Previous time in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation."

"None."

"His strengths."

"Agility. Adaptability. Precision striking."

"His background."

"...Why are we doing this?"

The Custodian sighed, clearly reluctant to describe the entirety of the incident prior. The two sat in a room surrounded by many white lights that clearly lit the entire space. There was a clinical nature to it all. A place where information was the only focus. Devoid of flavor and culture, all replaced with a static academia.

"Your incident in the earlier program has raised valid concerns of simulating further opponents for this match. These matters require an intense focus and bringing that focus inward could compromise everything we have worked so hard to achieve."

"So, I am learning about my remaining opponents in this fashion?"

"Not quite. We shall go over Okamoto in this manner, but not Smith."

"...Which opponent shall I imitate for the earlier match in the night. Once I've absorbed all of the information you give to me?"

The Custodian stifled a chuckle, checking his pocket watch as the seconds ticked by.

"You are operating off of a misconception, Chameleon. Think. Hayato is the perfect example of what I am attempting to stress."

TC-01 thought for a moment, the hesitation in their voice emblematic of an existing knowledge of the answer at some level within themself.

"None of those four are. I have to face them, but they aren't my real opponent."

"Go on."

"All of them have talents in some areas certainly, but there is a vacant quality to each. A willingness to stand by for more capable individuals. For all of their prowess, they'll never attempt to be anything they are not. And it holds each one of them back."

"Now then, TC-01... give me the name of your opponent."

"Corey Smith."

"Is he exempt from the qualities you've described prior?"

"...He is not."

"Perfect. I look forward to your analysis of the Smith file we will provide you."

"I don't need it."

The Custodian's ears perked, but there was no discontent in his expression, rather an excited intrigue.

"Pray tell why."

"I know Corey. All too well."

With another glance at his watch, The Custodian smiled wide. It was almost time.

"This has been an illuminating distraction, but a distraction regardless. Let us begin once more. Name."

"Hayato Okamoto."

"Previous time in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation."

"None."

"His strengths."

"Agility. Adaptability..."

]]>

Arpeggio

Part 2-A(nal):

Yearning

My steed slows down as the large, stiff tower the princess lives upon cums into sight.

No, I'm not talking about what's in my pants.

nut a throblem

Part 2-B:
Improvement

]]> <![CDATA[Rock And Roll Dreams Come True]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42783 Sat, 29 Jan 2022 05:19:47 -0800 Centurion]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42783

He was used to the confusion.

Centurion spent many mornings in his youth waking up in beds he doesn't remember lying in and in towns he doesn't remember traveling to. It was a part of the road life, especially when he was single. He didn't even need to book a hotel, because he knew there would be a lady somewhere that would be more than willing to host him for the night.

But Centurion is older now, and he is very much not single. Not only that, but the other familiar feeling - the crippling hangover headache that would last for hours - wasn't there. Not only that, but there was a weird sensation in his ears - like the sound of a fan blowing, but no air is hitting him.

Centurion tries to open his eyes, but he is unable to do so. Something is covering his eyes, and keeping his eyelids pressed down. Centurion reaches up and pulls on the fabric that covers his eyes, and notices…

It's a t-shirt.

The darkness turns into light, and Centurion blinks a few times to adjust to the daylight. His eyes dart around the unfamiliar room, and pieces of the evening start to come back to his memory:

Last night, he and Ruby were at the Velvet Rabbit, the hottest nightclub in New York City. There was a large scale protest, which resulted in Centurion punching an old adversary of his. Then there was a meeting with his long time rival Chris Page. Then came the booze...lots and lots of booze. He tries as hard as he can to remember how he got to where he is now, but that memory is gone from his brain, perhaps forever.

Centurion looks over at the armchair in the corner of the room, where Ruby is sitting. She looks up at Centurion and says something, but he can not hear it; instead, he continues to hear the sound of the unknown fan in his ears. Centurion reaches up to rub his ears, and notices a pair of earbuds that have been placed in his ear. He takes them both out and sets them on the bed as he glances back over to Ruby.

"Where are we?" Centurion asks as he tries to get his barrings about him.

"Comfort Inn!" Ruby responds with a voice that is way too happy and awake for someone who was pounding shots just hours ago. "Apparently we were dropped off here last night by...someone. Do you know who it was?"

Centurion thinks for a moment. He doesn't remember leaving the club, much less being checked into a hotel. "No, no clue. I'm not covered in my own blood, so it couldn't have been Page. And I'm not covered in pink glitter and vomit, so it wasn't Atara. So we've narrowed it down to…"

"About a thousand people." Ruby interjects. "Give or take. But hey, we're here in one piece, AND I took the liberty to go down and grab us some of that continental breakfast!" Ruby points over at the dresser in front of the TV, revealing two trays of eggs, bacon, coffee - typical breakfast shit. "They didn't even ask questions when I walked out with the food. They just LET you do it!"

"How are you this alert right now?" Centurion asks in a baffled voice. "In fact, how am I not currently dying? My head should feel like a watermelon at a Gallagher show."

"Look down at the floor." Ruby says with a confident smile. Centurion leans over the side of the bed and notices what Ruby was pointing out - a pile of empty Gatorade bottles scattered all over the floor. Centurion looks back at Ruby, who has a massive grin on her face.

"Came prepared?" Centurion says as if it were a question, but it's more to set up Ruby's explanation.

"I don't even remember doing it!" Ruby says in an excited tone. "Apparently we stopped at that gift shop thing by the front desk and bought them out of all their Gatorade. I don't know which one of us decided to do that. I'm assuming it was me."

"You'd have that kind of foresight, no doubt." Centurion says in resignation. "No way would I have thought about that. In fact, I'm surprised I let you do it. Normally drunk me just wants to keep the party going."

"Yeah, I don't know why...though it probably has to do with your expensive meal last night." Centurion arches his eyebrows as Ruby reaches out in front of her and grabs a receipt.

Centurion stands up from the bed and stretches, letting out a slight moan as he contorts his body in several directions. He walks over to the table, and Ruby hands him the aforementioned receipt. He yawns, but his tiredness turns into pure shock as he reads it.

"I SPENT SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS ON CHICKEN WINGS?!"

"It's really impressive." Ruby says in a matter of fact way. "Either you bought food for the entire bar, or you were able to eat about 300 wings. I hope it's the second - that HAS to be some sort of record."

"Fucking Thad…" Centurion mumbles under his breath.

"What was that?" Ruby asks, unable to hear Centurion's cursing.

"Nothing." Centurion shrugs off. He walks away from the table and up to the trays of breakfast that are in the room. He goes to grab a plate, but stops as he continues to think about the night. "Don't you find it kind of weird?"

"What?" Ruby inquires.

"We were standing inside a nightclub" Centurion begins. "surrounded by people who would love nothing more than to see me dead, and we walk out with nothing more than a few bruises from religious zealots? It doesn't make sense."

"Voodoo was right." Ruby says pretty quickly. "Nothing happens in that place without her knowing. It's a literal fortress, one that she rules over. It's Switzerland...with some Republicans making noise outside."

"All those pro wrestlers. All those egos." Centurion says in a reflective manner. "And she can control them all simply by the building she owns. I need to speak with her."

------The Beat Is Yours Forever------

We reopen inside the ballroom of the Comfort Inn in New York City. There, we see Centurion standing in the middle of the room, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger over his head as if he is battling a headache. As the camera pans close to him, he speaks.

“You know, every time I hear a wrestler speak, I always have some sort of reaction. Most of the time, it’s just mild amusement. Sometimes, it’s pure boredom. Rarely, it’s great delight or a furious rage. This past week, though, I listened to a wrestler whose words were so bafflingly stupid, I could only manage a facial expression. This one.

[Image: a03NPQN.jpg]

Congratulations, Jenny. You successfully confused the hell out of me.

Let’s start off with the first mind numbing statement you made – that you think I’m only a legend because people say I’m a legend. That’s...yes, that’s what a legend is. If you’re a legend and no one says it, then you’re nothing. You only become a legend in the business if you have the respect of your peers. You know, those same peers that “snarl” at you?

Ok, so I’m a legend because people say I am, and the examples you used? A laundry list of names that have accomplished everything there is to accomplish in the XWF. Yes, The Brand and Steve Jason, two of the greatest wrestlers of all time, had nice things to say about me. What a way to discredit me and the things I’ve done in this business. I mean, hell, if you would have just named a bunch of names no one has ever heard of, or names of people that were just my friend, then MAYBE you would have had a case. But Blizzard? The dude who hated my guts? The dude who constantly belittled me and tore me down in front of a national audience? I don’t think he was saying I’m a legend just because he “likes me”. I think he was saying I’m a legend because I’m a tough son of a bitch.”

Centurion lets out a sigh and slightly shakes his head.

“You know, I expect this kind of bullshit either from top guys in the business who don’t want to admit I’m on their level, or from new kids who look to chop me down as a stepping stone for their careers. You know who I DON’T expect this kind of trash talk from? Career also-rans who would kill to switch careers with me.

You’re bored by me, Jenny? Fine. I feel nothing about you. You exist. That’s all you’ve done for your entire career – you exist. Once and a while, you go away. Maybe you get thrown a belt for your “hard work” carrying a dead division. In the end, though, when you’re gone, no one notices. The fact is, you can rattle off all these overused phrases about me because there’s a history of people saying them. I’ve had to dig through three years of your material just to find SOMETHING about you. Any mark you’ve made that has lasted more than a month, and I’ve come up empty.

But you insulting my career isn’t the weirdest thing you’ve said. Neither was you not knowing what a “legacy” is. And I’ll even gloss over the fact that you think I lost to Mark Flynn, a wrestler I’ve never even faced before, because I can only assume you meant North Korean War Criminal and you’ve received so much electric shock therapy that they’re starting to blend together for you. I’ll go ahead and ignore ALL of that...but I can’t ignore what may, in fact, be the single most ridiculous thing ever said in a wrestling promo before. And normally, I hate doing what I’m about to do – the old “quote the wrestler’s own words” cliché that lazy people do, but in this case...well, I can’t bring myself to actually say what you said, so the people are going to need to hear it out of your own mouth.

Quote: But you know what they say about opinions, Cent? Everyone's got em.........Opinons are like assholes.....

Problem is, girls don't poop."

The camera pans back to Centurion, who is making the same facial expression as before.

“What...the fuck.

THIS was what you decidedto leave us all with. This completely insane statement was the final line of your promotional video. You wanted to leave us all on the edge of our seats, and THIS was how you were going to do it. Just...absolutely mind blowing.

First of all, not only is this not true, but it’s one of those fourth-grade things that boys say around the school yard. Once someone reaches the age of – oh, I don’t know, TWELVE – this kind of thing isn’t said anymore. Why? Because it’s REALLY FUCKING STUPID! The fact that you thought this line was so witty that you ended your promo with it shows me just how gone in the head you truly are. And this is me talking! Me, the dude who references a Japanese RPG game at the end of all of his speeches!

Secondly, what was the point you were trying to make? Everyone has an opinion, but you don’t? If “opinions are like assholes”, but “girls don’t poop”, does that mean girl don’t have opinions? Is this some sort of weird way of trying to tell the world that you don’t think women should have the right to form their own opinion, because quite frankly, I find that to be rather sexist. It’s 2022 – we don’t accept those kinds of bigoted opinions around here anymore.

That's the thing - there is no point. You don't have one. You have absolutely nothing you can say about me, but you know you have to fill up the airtime somehow, so you just started babbling.

And that whole "we're a lot alike" thing? You know that's bullshit, don't you? We're nothing alike. You can't even say we're both veterans because I've been around WAY longer than you. You exist in your own world. On an island all by yourself. And it's not a good island, either. It's a chemical waste island where people dump garbage. You are the Great Pacific Garbage Patch of the XWF.

Do me a favor, Jenny. Next time you disappear and show back up three months later, bring something more to the table than this. It's one thing to be a shitty wrestler. It's another to waste everyone's time with this absolutely insane shit. If we get another "girls don't poop" promo, I swear to God I'm going to get you blacklisted from this business.

Oh, and fuck you Michael Graves."]]> <![CDATA[Fuck A Title 3: I'm A Miss The Rage]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42781 Fri, 28 Jan 2022 21:14:24 -0800 Reggie Estrada]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=42781
[The scene opens up to Reggie at his home, still playing Kingdom Hearts on his PS4. It’s been almost few days he hadn’t gone out since his make a wish thing went down, until his phone goes off and it was JB who was calling him, which caused him to pause the game to talk to him.]

Reggie: Yo, JB, what up homes?

JB: I’m just checking in on you, how you been holding up?

Reggie: I’ve been fine and shit, trying to get myself ready for my flight to Iceland and shit. You know about my title defense coming up right?

JB: Yeah man, I know and I wanted to let you know that I wish me and T could make it Iceland, but that shit is expensive for a round trip, so we will be watching it on TV. I can’t believe this is your third reign, we should celebrate before you go tonight.

Reggie: Well, thanks for the offer but, I’m not too sure if I should be going out. I am terrible with people, well certain people but…

JB: But what? You bagged that Friday singer who’s now a mega star by now, dude you need to let it show, you know what, I’m going to swing by at 8pm to pick you and T up. We hanging out before you leave town, okay?

Reggie: Aight man, I got nothing better to do….what should I wear?

JB: Don’t worry about that, I’ll swing by later, later Reg.

[It was half past 8pm, and Reggie is outside of his house in his hoodie and black jeans, with black sneakers to boot as he waits for JB to arrive. JB then arrived, and Reggie gets into the car, then they drive off to somewhere. Then they are at a local lounge where there was a long line of people waiting to get in, they head to the line. As the night came along, they reach to the gate where they get stopped by D-List Tiny Lister type of guard with a mean mug on his face.]

Bouncer: Hey, we can’t have any more scrubs like you in this establishment.

T: Hey man, we been waiting for almost like two hours in the cold to get in this shit, bro!

Bouncer: I’m not your bro, and not my problem. Nobody else can get into the place at this moment.

T: You know how long it’ll take?

Bouncer: Look, you three can leave the establishment before I have to do something about it.

Reggie: What do you mean?

[Then the bouncer look at Reggie, and he laughs at him. Then JB calms them both down, and they just leave the line. Since their car isn’t far, Reggie then pulls out steel pipe from the backseat and he comes back to the lounge, and he bust out the window. Then he bust the second window to the right, and the bouncer tries to stop him, but he beats up the bouncer with the piper and he strangles him with it. Tommy and JB pull him off the bouncer, and he flea to the car to leave the scene.]

JB: Yo, what was all that about Reggie?

Reggie: Man, I didn’t fuck with how he was talking to us. Just because he’s tall as shit doesn’t mean shit to me, I don’t like people being a dick to me or anyone.

JB: You didn’t need to do all that, we was going to have a good night until you had to start some shit!

[Tommy was on the passenger side, simply gawking at pictures of Lexi Gold on his phone, then JB looks at Tommy in a disapproving manner over what went down. As the reach to a stop light, JB taps T on the shoulders to get his attention.]

JB: T, why did you have to start all this?

T: Hey, we been there since fucking 8:30pm and it’s going to like 11:30pm and it’s freezing outchea. You know that I am country boy from the south, fuck the cold shit. I had to say something, didn’t know it would pop something off.

[Reggie then looks at the pipe, and JB drives as it went green. After about a fifteen minutes, they stop at a junkyard for some reason. Then the idle around the place, and Reggie sees some motlov cocktails with some matches around. He lights one up and tosses it at the wall, which lit on fire. JB and Tommy look at Reggie with some worry, and they take him to the side to talk to him.]

JB: Reg, you alright tonight?

Reggie: Hell nah, I’m just… i just want to fuckin rage!!! AHHH

T: What you mean?

[Reggie then picks up a baseball bat, and he smashes in the front window of an old hoopty, and he gives the bat to the both of them. Then the start to get it, and they start to tear up the junkyard to let out their rage. Then it cuts to where it was just Reggie just smashing things with a bat in his vicinity; and we just see Reggie holding the bat to the camera, and he speaks.]

“Let me tell you something, people out there… Im in a fucking rage mode tonight! I am in a fucking rage mode, and I know that it doesn’t mean much to those who don’t give a fuck about me. The ones who do, they know that I am always ready to fucking rage off into the next poor soul who step into me. You all remember that RSA I did?

I saw what they said, and I want to let them know, thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I hope to bring my Rage and Fire in that ring. I don’t back out what I say, and I mean that if I win I will bring some prestige to the championship and be a X-Treme fighting championso… if I don’t, then fuck the belt, and whatever or whoever holds it on by the end of the show in Iceland. You will never see me claim that belt again, if I had a choice as a act of defiance, I’d do some ECW Douglas shit, dump it in the ring for the Fuck Tha X-Treme title. At least, it will be better then holding a silver plate, yeah I said it, so sue me!”

[Then it shifts to Marf’s video package, including his rise of the XWF with his partner and himself. Then it shows clips of his two promos on this match, and it aprubtly cuts off into Bam’s video package, including his infamy with his run with the X-Treme title and him chasing for it, and it also shows his two promos with a black and white hue which also smash cuts to Cage’s promo. Then we see Reggie smashing up a car window with “Marf, Bam, Cage” name sprayed on it.]

“To all three men in this match, I hope you all have some health insurance you all are going to need it this Sunday. I don’t know how the health Is up there with Icelandic people, but maybe they’ll do a long recovery process as beat the shit out of all three of you motherfuckers in the ring. It’s every person for themselves in the ring, and I know that there will be some slight alliances to go about trying to gang up on one another in the ring, fine by me, but just know that I won’t be alone.

Besides my fist and kicks down your collective throats, I got so much weapons at my disposable that will cause harm then you can even imagine. I could go out in the cold air, and freakin use a snowball to throw at everyone. This won’t be a snow day where we have off, this will be the one to have some bloody snow angels carved in stone for the Icelandic people to see when they go home. Maybe I can make some cash on the side with all three of y’alls blood on the snow, hey I guess I am an entrepreneur on the side.

Look Marf, I don’t give a fuck about you and that bitch you hung with. I know you got your own, and I can’t fault you for having to bring that up to me. You think I don’t know your past? Shit, I think because you been out of the title scene for so long you start to think that you need to prove to the people, that you aren’t second in command. Where was that Universal Championship match in your match catalogue? My case still stands, you are nothing more then a fucking shadow of a shadow’s bitch who can’t see the light.

So if you and Bam want that smoke, then be my guest then chico, an eye for an eye they say… but that means you can’t handle being on your lonewulf shit without having to be co-signed from someone else. Just shows how much of lair you are, so I will be happy to end you in Fire and Ice.

Bam fucking Miller, the golden goose of a defunct fed that once had some notoriety as you were apart of it. OCW was the name, and now it’s dead brand just like you. I see why you and Marf are getting along, a bird can flock together but it’s only one who can remain as the one to fly alone. Can you fly alone Bam or do you need someone to help you fly on your broken wings of bullshit and cigarette butts on your couch. Whatever you think about doing, isn’t going to mean much to me in the ring, because you see the more outsiders who tend to invaded tend to be ending up on chopping block of irrelevancy in a minute. You had your time to shine, and its finished by this Sunday, even if you have Page co conspiring a plan to cheat the system in that ring.

Bam, all I will tell you is keep your friends close… and keep your enemies closer, because you don’t know if they will stab you in the back with a broken Kendo Stick in a hurry to get ahead. So, I hope you cut down on those cigs and shitty miller lites, because you end up coming out worse in all this shit to the point you can’t smoke or drink anymore without throwin up your blood.

Cage, the NRA bandit who would suck Trumps dick for a pardon. The man who basically made wrestling the circus it is today, I don’t give a fuck about stars if it don’t bring food to the table, maybe before I gave a damn but now I’m kinda over that mindset. Unlike him, I don’t need to proclaim to the world I need to cut a promo, if he wanted to stay home and pull some Tessa Blanchard shit, then be my guess. But, that would mean he’d need to do what Scott Steiner told DDP back in 2000 on an WCW episode where they had a shootfight, I won’t do him like that unless he knows.

Look Cage, I respect that we had a our differences moved to the side. But now, this is whole different thing, where now you want to get your belt back? Where ya ass was at for these past couple of weeks? You know what fuck it, you aren’t getting shit but a beat down by me and two so called buddies Marf and Bam in this thing.

Overall, this championship mean a lot but at the same time, it’s nothing more then a way to get someone over more than they already are. The belt wouldn’t even make someone like Bam, Marf or even Coleman a real ass wrestler; it’s the person who makes belt worth a damn and all three of these men couldn’t even think about making it worth a damn.

If Marf had it, would get to defend it weekly or would he forget about it and stay in the shadows of Bam?

If Cage had it again, would he not want to puss out like a prankster he is?

If Bam had it, would he end up being a worth a damn without the co-sign of Page?

All these questions will take place when I am in Iceland this Sunday, and to be honest I am not afraid to retain OR lose this title si los poderes fácticos proclaman que es. I’ll miss being able to bring this belt to life, maybe it’ll boost one of these three chumps careers, porque seguramente necesitan ese impulso entonces yo sí!”

[The scene simply fades into the moon, with a red hue as it abruptly cut itself off the feed.] ]]>
[The scene opens up to Reggie at his home, still playing Kingdom Hearts on his PS4. It’s been almost few days he hadn’t gone out since his make a wish thing went down, until his phone goes off and it was JB who was calling him, which caused him to pause the game to talk to him.]

Reggie: Yo, JB, what up homes?

JB: I’m just checking in on you, how you been holding up?

Reggie: I’ve been fine and shit, trying to get myself ready for my flight to Iceland and shit. You know about my title defense coming up right?

JB: Yeah man, I know and I wanted to let you know that I wish me and T could make it Iceland, but that shit is expensive for a round trip, so we will be watching it on TV. I can’t believe this is your third reign, we should celebrate before you go tonight.

Reggie: Well, thanks for the offer but, I’m not too sure if I should be going out. I am terrible with people, well certain people but…

JB: But what? You bagged that Friday singer who’s now a mega star by now, dude you need to let it show, you know what, I’m going to swing by at 8pm to pick you and T up. We hanging out before you leave town, okay?

Reggie: Aight man, I got nothing better to do….what should I wear?

JB: Don’t worry about that, I’ll swing by later, later Reg.

[It was half past 8pm, and Reggie is outside of his house in his hoodie and black jeans, with black sneakers to boot as he waits for JB to arrive. JB then arrived, and Reggie gets into the car, then they drive off to somewhere. Then they are at a local lounge where there was a long line of people waiting to get in, they head to the line. As the night came along, they reach to the gate where they get stopped by D-List Tiny Lister type of guard with a mean mug on his face.]

Bouncer: Hey, we can’t have any more scrubs like you in this establishment.

T: Hey man, we been waiting for almost like two hours in the cold to get in this shit, bro!

Bouncer: I’m not your bro, and not my problem. Nobody else can get into the place at this moment.

T: You know how long it’ll take?

Bouncer: Look, you three can leave the establishment before I have to do something about it.

Reggie: What do you mean?

[Then the bouncer look at Reggie, and he laughs at him. Then JB calms them both down, and they just leave the line. Since their car isn’t far, Reggie then pulls out steel pipe from the backseat and he comes back to the lounge, and he bust out the window. Then he bust the second window to the right, and the bouncer tries to stop him, but he beats up the bouncer with the piper and he strangles him with it. Tommy and JB pull him off the bouncer, and he flea to the car to leave the scene.]

JB: Yo, what was all that about Reggie?

Reggie: Man, I didn’t fuck with how he was talking to us. Just because he’s tall as shit doesn’t mean shit to me, I don’t like people being a dick to me or anyone.

JB: You didn’t need to do all that, we was going to have a good night until you had to start some shit!

[Tommy was on the passenger side, simply gawking at pictures of Lexi Gold on his phone, then JB looks at Tommy in a disapproving manner over what went down. As the reach to a stop light, JB taps T on the shoulders to get his attention.]

JB: T, why did you have to start all this?

T: Hey, we been there since fucking 8:30pm and it’s going to like 11:30pm and it’s freezing outchea. You know that I am country boy from the south, fuck the cold shit. I had to say something, didn’t know it would pop something off.

[Reggie then looks at the pipe, and JB drives as it went green. After about a fifteen minutes, they stop at a junkyard for some reason. Then the idle around the place, and Reggie sees some motlov cocktails with some matches around. He lights one up and tosses it at the wall, which lit on fire. JB and Tommy look at Reggie with some worry, and they take him to the side to talk to him.]

JB: Reg, you alright tonight?

Reggie: Hell nah, I’m just… i just want to fuckin rage!!! AHHH

T: What you mean?

[Reggie then picks up a baseball bat, and he smashes in the front window of an old hoopty, and he gives the bat to the both of them. Then the start to get it, and they start to tear up the junkyard to let out their rage. Then it cuts to where it was just Reggie just smashing things with a bat in his vicinity; and we just see Reggie holding the bat to the camera, and he speaks.]

“Let me tell you something, people out there… Im in a fucking rage mode tonight! I am in a fucking rage mode, and I know that it doesn’t mean much to those who don’t give a fuck about me. The ones who do, they know that I am always ready to fucking rage off into the next poor soul who step into me. You all remember that RSA I did?

I saw what they said, and I want to let them know, thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I hope to bring my Rage and Fire in that ring. I don’t back out what I say, and I mean that if I win I will bring some prestige to the championship and be a X-Treme fighting championso… if I don’t, then fuck the belt, and whatever or whoever holds it on by the end of the show in Iceland. You will never see me claim that belt again, if I had a choice as a act of defiance, I’d do some ECW Douglas shit, dump it in the ring for the Fuck Tha X-Treme title. At least, it will be better then holding a silver plate, yeah I said it, so sue me!”

[Then it shifts to Marf’s video package, including his rise of the XWF with his partner and himself. Then it shows clips of his two promos on this match, and it aprubtly cuts off into Bam’s video package, including his infamy with his run with the X-Treme title and him chasing for it, and it also shows his two promos with a black and white hue which also smash cuts to Cage’s promo. Then we see Reggie smashing up a car window with “Marf, Bam, Cage” name sprayed on it.]

“To all three men in this match, I hope you all have some health insurance you all are going to need it this Sunday. I don’t know how the health Is up there with Icelandic people, but maybe they’ll do a long recovery process as beat the shit out of all three of you motherfuckers in the ring. It’s every person for themselves in the ring, and I know that there will be some slight alliances to go about trying to gang up on one another in the ring, fine by me, but just know that I won’t be alone.

Besides my fist and kicks down your collective throats, I got so much weapons at my disposable that will cause harm then you can even imagine. I could go out in the cold air, and freakin use a snowball to throw at everyone. This won’t be a snow day where we have off, this will be the one to have some bloody snow angels carved in stone for the Icelandic people to see when they go home. Maybe I can make some cash on the side with all three of y’alls blood on the snow, hey I guess I am an entrepreneur on the side.

Look Marf, I don’t give a fuck about you and that bitch you hung with. I know you got your own, and I can’t fault you for having to bring that up to me. You think I don’t know your past? Shit, I think because you been out of the title scene for so long you start to think that you need to prove to the people, that you aren’t second in command. Where was that Universal Championship match in your match catalogue? My case still stands, you are nothing more then a fucking shadow of a shadow’s bitch who can’t see the light.

So if you and Bam want that smoke, then be my guest then chico, an eye for an eye they say… but that means you can’t handle being on your lonewulf shit without having to be co-signed from someone else. Just shows how much of lair you are, so I will be happy to end you in Fire and Ice.

Bam fucking Miller, the golden goose of a defunct fed that once had some notoriety as you were apart of it. OCW was the name, and now it’s dead brand just like you. I see why you and Marf are getting along, a bird can flock together but it’s only one who can remain as the one to fly alone. Can you fly alone Bam or do you need someone to help you fly on your broken wings of bullshit and cigarette butts on your couch. Whatever you think about doing, isn’t going to mean much to me in the ring, because you see the more outsiders who tend to invaded tend to be ending up on chopping block of irrelevancy in a minute. You had your time to shine, and its finished by this Sunday, even if you have Page co conspiring a plan to cheat the system in that ring.

Bam, all I will tell you is keep your friends close… and keep your enemies closer, because you don’t know if they will stab you in the back with a broken Kendo Stick in a hurry to get ahead. So, I hope you cut down on those cigs and shitty miller lites, because you end up coming out worse in all this shit to the point you can’t smoke or drink anymore without throwin up your blood.

Cage, the NRA bandit who would suck Trumps dick for a pardon. The man who basically made wrestling the circus it is today, I don’t give a fuck about stars if it don’t bring food to the table, maybe before I gave a damn but now I’m kinda over that mindset. Unlike him, I don’t need to proclaim to the world I need to cut a promo, if he wanted to stay home and pull some Tessa Blanchard shit, then be my guess. But, that would mean he’d need to do what Scott Steiner told DDP back in 2000 on an WCW episode where they had a shootfight, I won’t do him like that unless he knows.

Look Cage, I respect that we had a our differences moved to the side. But now, this is whole different thing, where now you want to get your belt back? Where ya ass was at for these past couple of weeks? You know what fuck it, you aren’t getting shit but a beat down by me and two so called buddies Marf and Bam in this thing.

Overall, this championship mean a lot but at the same time, it’s nothing more then a way to get someone over more than they already are. The belt wouldn’t even make someone like Bam, Marf or even Coleman a real ass wrestler; it’s the person who makes belt worth a damn and all three of these men couldn’t even think about making it worth a damn.

If Marf had it, would get to defend it weekly or would he forget about it and stay in the shadows of Bam?

If Cage had it again, would he not want to puss out like a prankster he is?

If Bam had it, would he end up being a worth a damn without the co-sign of Page?

All these questions will take place when I am in Iceland this Sunday, and to be honest I am not afraid to retain OR lose this title si los poderes fácticos proclaman que es. I’ll miss being able to bring this belt to life, maybe it’ll boost one of these three chumps careers, porque seguramente necesitan ese impulso entonces yo sí!”

[The scene simply fades into the moon, with a red hue as it abruptly cut itself off the feed.] ]]>