<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Cross Promotional RP Board

<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Cross Promotional RP Board - Archives]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Thu, 07 May 2026 03:40:26 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Interlude: Shattered Frame of Mind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45742 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 20:59:59 -0800 Finn Kühn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45742
17 February 2023
New York City, New York

To say I was infuriated and frustrated at everything going on was an understatement. The heavy bag before me reacted and swayed with each and every one of my passing thoughts, being beaten around like a war drum with my fists smashing into it.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

It felt like with every punch I landed on the bag, the weathered, peeling skin of the leather shifted and morphed into a new face. The face of Peter Vaughn, who twisted and manipulated his way through my life and Buster's life for months on end before slithering his way to a victory at my expense.

WHAM!

The face of Chris Page, who had managed to prove himself too sharp in the ring and managed to upstage me when the chips had been all-in.

WHAM!

The face of Jacki O'Lantern was the one who then proceeded to shine through next. A hypocrite. Someone who sought to be a nuisance, an annoyance, and interject herself into matters all in the name of having 'fun.'

She had a very twisted definition of fun. To me, she was little better than many of the others who was causing the disgusting stench within this company.

WHAM!

The smug face of the heavy bag remained on Jacki though as it swayed and wobbled, beckoning my bloodied fists on. Streaks of red began pouring down my fingers as I gritted my teeth, unable to stop myself from going in. I started hooking into the bag's side, again and again as the shaking began to grow to a fever pitch.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAAAAAAAM!

With one final swing, the face disintegrated into nothingness. The heavy bag went sailing off of the mounted chain, sailing off against the nearby wall as a fist-sized hole in the side of it began leaking out packed sand.

Looking at the destruction I caused within this empty gym, I took a long moment, studying my bloodied knuckles. Sweat was pouring off of me like it was rainfall. As I greedily sucked air into my shriveled lungs, it felt like it had been years since I was able to take a true gasp of air. As if I'd been forcing myself underwater and forced to go forward within the deeps.

The promise of revenge was what had forced me to submerge myself and lose that air.

“Fuck...” I cursed, flexing my hand to make sure I didn't break anything. It was only when I was certain I could still move it in any way I wanted to that the rest of my body began to operate as usual again, as I started dragging my body over to get water.

The sound of silence was my response as I cranked open the water bottle. I poured just a bit on my bloodied hands to try and wash off some of the leaking blood, before taking a deep swig. Plopping down on the destroyed heavy bag and looking out over the gym, lined with my blood, sweat and tears, I realized I had been in here for far too long, just... focusing on this match.

I had separated myself from both Skyla and Christine to try and prepare, to get my mind straight. At this rate, I don't even know if they're the problem at this rate. But I wanted to try my best just to clear my mind of any and all distractions, and this was the end result of all that endless training. A hollow emptiness rang throughout my entire body, shaking my core as I hunched myself over and shook my head.

It was funny. I had been dismissing Jacki's pursuit of 'fun,' but at the same time... this entire time I had been back, I didn't think there was a genuine time I was truly enjoying myself. I just stuck myself on this road, knowing it was something I needed to do for the good of the industry and never looked back. Never once wavered. I still knew I couldn't back down from it, but my aching body was screaming at me over it. My mind was screaming at me over it.

“What's wrong with me?” I finally breathed out before burying my face in my hands. Trying to rub out the tiredness in my eyes, I simply took a deep breath to try and keep myself stable.

Was the way I was going about this truly unsustainable? It wasn't like I was getting much in the way of results. Mindlessly gunning for self-improvement without much in the way of gratification was earning me losses - close losses, mind you, but still losses. Something had to change, but...

...

I didn't know anymore.

I didn't know anything.

Maybe I can go about this a different way, but I need to figure that out later.

All I need to do is just go past this one event. Get this one last win. And then, and only then, I can breathe easy for the time being.

I just hope I don't give out on myself at this rate.

Present Day

“Allow me to start out by pointing out that every single thing that is about to happen in this match, Jacki, is coming to you because you've asked for it.”

“I'm meant to be on my road to fighting all the possible champions I can in this company. I'm meant to face the brightest possible people in this industry. I'm meant to be going out there and fighting to become the one true King of the XWF, and instead, I have to go and fight in what is effectively a sideshow because now someone has decided to stick their nose into my business, trying to play tricks on me and lock me out of my own matches.”

“And you expect me to be happy? You expect me to be all smiles and laughs when your move is to lock me in a room for the entire night? You expect me to be all cheery and happy-go-lucky when you get to play pranks like exploding pumpkins on unstable ice, or glass trying to rain down on me? What the Hell is wrong with you? What is your mental malfunction?”

“The fact of the matter is, Jacki, you've stepped foot into a match you're not ready for. I've been busy in main events and marquee matches, and win, lose or draw, I've been going out there and making people respect the name of Finn Kühn. You, though? You take your time to go out on Madness and remain put in the opening matches. Someone's got to be in those opening matches, so I can't fault someone for doing that on their own, but at the same time...”

“You show no desire for improvement. You show no desire to actually want to get better. You're content just to be some smiling idiot, letting life pass by them because 'hey, I'm just having fun!' If you find fun by being an absolute utter joke, then be my guest. But unfortunately for you, Jacki, this is the real world, where people don't dress like it's Halloween twenty-four-seven, people don't play pranks on others that can end up killing them, and people don't have the emotional capacity of children. And most importantly of all, we learn that our actions have consequences.”

“I show respect to those who deserve it. But Jacki... how can you ever expect to come in or out of this match hoping for my respect? Because every single thing I'm about to do to you in that ring is something you've called for with your shitty little antics. Let me put this into terms even you will understand.”

“I'm going to go out there, and show you just what you signed up for. I'm going to go out there and beat you. Brutalize you. I'm going to use my fists and carve your fucking skull in. I'm going to snap your arm. I'm going to work out the past few months that have been full of aggression out on you. And you will have no one to blame for this but yourself. And you're going to learn that your place is at the bottom of the card, and until you want to work on yourself, it's going to stay that way.”

“This isn't a match.”

“It's a goddamn execution.”
]]> <![CDATA[The Past, The Future -- A Nauseating Garish Reality]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45741 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 20:59:11 -0800 TactilizingOne]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45741 “There are many perceptions about wrestlers, especially with how many subculture branches have been borne from the tree that sprouted wrestling’s genesis. Within each of those branches is a pocket dimension all of the makings of two parties: The visionary who launched the company, and those who inhabit it. From that blend of talent and leadership, for better or worse – the company’s culture is created. It will never be static, morphing and shaping based on the evolution of the company. Once more, that evolution could be for better or for worse…”

Turning, we see the clear visage of the Tactilizing One, himself – Larry Tact.

“Everyone understands The Denzel Porter Invitational was created to bring those pocket dimensions together, and in doing so, set an example to the world of what we can achieve together. Denzel hasn’t been all talk, either. To his credit, he has stepped up and set example after example of his own – be it a rankings list, inviting us to see his show previews and rundowns, covering “BREAKING NEWS,” and it goes on. You could make a list of ‘The Top Ten Ways Denzel Porter Set The Example For Wrestling To Follow…’ and why?”

He gives a short but affirming nod.

“Because there are more than only ten.”

His golden blonde hair cascades in a wavy, sheen curtain a bit past his shoulders. Typically, he would tie it back, but he has left it loose this afternoon.

“And so it goes, we have the second annual – at this point, you should all feel confident and comfortable in following my example, to support the man to cement this Invitational as such – Denzel Porter Invitational. You may think I’m crazy to say it, but there are always malcontents who will seek to tear down what wrestling as a whole has worked to build. We were not where we are today twenty three years ago. While it’s clear there is still a great deal of toxicity in this industry, it’s important to also take a moment to acknowledge where we’ve come from. At this event, there will be representatives from so many of the pocket dimensions I mentioned earlier. Yes, it’s thanks to Denzel and his team to network and collaborate with those who have agreed to step through the ropes. Let’s not allow it to slip past, however, what will also be seen: Not only representatives of company’s, and those who lead them, but so many backgrounds and identities and orientations. It’s a great deal of progress from twenty three years ago, AKA the year 2000. That’s not to say there isn’t work still to be done. For the love of the ring, there’s plenty people will need to do long after many of us are gone. It’s figuratively and literally a constant and ongoing struggle… in other words, It’s evolution, people.”

The blinders have been raised from the floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall, allowing the sun to bathe the office of Tact Enterprise’s leader, the backlight empowering the light blue pinstripes of his navy blue suit. A triple-striped tie of three green shades brings out the olive in his eyes.

“This is the way wrestling evolves. We pick up and live in a time and place where those who struggled previously have placed it. We will leave it in a time and place for the next generations to decide where they need to pick up from. It will never become static because that’s the nature of the wrestling industry. So do take a moment to appreciate where we each started, and don’t constantly look to battle over where we should go next. That’s disrespectful to those who brought us to this point, through their own struggle. It’s a disservice to those living now, who cannot enjoy and appreciate the time and place we are privileged to compete in. It can be a miserable existence if you never stop looking towards what lies ahead, and truly see what lies before you.”

With that, Larry turns and strides over to a set of plush taupe-colored seats surrounding a meeting table that can seat four, but he passes it a takes a seat on a matching sofa, crossing a leg horizontally.

“Of course, I don’t expect most of you to heed much of my advice. Hell, it feels like this industry moves so differently than when I started – also in the year two thousand. There’s practically a news cycle now! I took six years off from any active presence in professional wrestling. I devoted myself to my family and firstborn child. When I returned in 2021, it was like a prisoner reentering the free world. It was a shock to my system. Now, I’ve adjusted to the machinations of this new wrestling world. However, I’ve still yet to return the favor, and shock the existing system.”

He draws his fingers together under his head tilted so his chin is about level with them. The daylight kept his countenance a reflection of solemnity to this point, but there is a little less blasting daylight in this area of the room. We begin to see the toll the ring has taken on the man, inside a couple years’ shy of his fortieth birthday.

“Don’t worry, I practice what I preach. In the time since I returned, much like the fifteen or so years before it, I appreciated what we inherited. I think I appreciated it too much, freely moving and competing to my heart’s content. I never truly wanted to stop, but I made a decision that had to be among the most difficult in my life. There was no injury that forced me away, no heartbreaking story of a fallen man. I walked away voluntarily. That was the moment when I did look to the future, but not simply for wrestling. For the whole world, I decided I would make the selfless choice of raising my son like a proper father. I decided to do what I needed to do to give the world a son who embodied everything they didn’t want to appreciate through my own struggle. So I would pass on my strengths, alert him of my mistakes, and if the world didn’t accept him then they never deserved to find goodness.”

He abruptly leans back in his seat.

“The result is to be determined, of course. He’s hardly been released to the world. But I certainly haven’t had complete influence over him, either. That’s a story for another time, and none of you deserve to hear it anyway. In fact, you’re here for someone else entirely, aren’t you? The reason I’m getting… admittedly, elevated attention from the wrestling journalists and dirt sheets is because they all want to hear my comments on who I’ve been set to face at the Denzel Porter Invitational. One Amber-Bane Ryan.”

The exterior toll of his tenure in the industry has shown itself mostly as now-faint scars on Larry’s body. Scars of remembrance will be the toll wrestling has taken upon him, as he wouldn’t otherwise have the years of trauma logged on and within his body. Save for a few deeper ones, he sees those scars as emblems of pride and esteem, fuel for his maintaining passion and excellence.

“I understand Amber Bane-Ryan has quite the following. I don’t need to go into it much with you all, and so, I won’t. Needless to say, she has never taken such a break as I did, so thoroughly devoting herself for so long to something else in her life. Why is that? She simply cannot. The reason? She is simply not talented enough to do so. For whatever talent she has is largely embedded in the skills she has developed in the ring. She has been in SCW for so long, it’s practically her company by default. Maybe that offends her husband, Mac? I doubt it, since he knows the truth is that Amber is the more talented wrestler of them. It’s no shame, only the reality. Maybe that’s why Mac allowed her to be eliminated from Level Up Wrestling’s ‘The Last Of Us, Part Two”… by a rookie wrestler. It was a gauntlet extravaganza, which drew an audience outside of Level Up’s general audience, thanks to the rich prize, and the glory of being the sole survivor of that raucous gauntlet. Mac Bane, somehow, failed his wife at that particular moment of 2022. About a year ago, Amber was eliminated by a rookie wrestler named Paul Freedom, and it was a telltale sign of Mac trying to cast a certain perception. I believe otherwise, and that’s one reason why I wanted to challenge Amber Bane-Ryan to this match. While it’s true I may have fallen to Mac at the CCPE versus The World spectacular, I’ve got another shot lined up. I had meant to start my 2023 wave off the backs of them both, but I suppose I’ll have to settle for using the wave that’s double in size. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

He chuckles at that, and we see the trademark smirk that creeps up the corner of his mouth.

“Amber, I know you are not the one who will back down to any adversity. I’m aware that even injury has not made a strong enough case for you to pursue other ventures in the world. You’re so obsessed with the rush of being in wrestling that you find a way to hang in there. We are so entirely different, you and I. Think about what I said, the decision I needed to make. It was the toughest decision of my life, but it wasn’t one I regratted at all. I’m going to share with you why. It’s because I have something you’ve convinced the wrestling world you either possess when it matters most, or don’t need at all. Regardless of which, it’s a lie. You have the choice of what you contribute to the evolution of wrestling, and adding to the fabric of where it will be left when you’re done and dusted – and sooner or later, it will happen, even if by your demise. It’s inevitable. What isn’t so defined, however, is whether you ever could have the quality I’m naming…”

“Confidence.”

He places his crossed leg back down onto the carpeted floor, and releases his entwined fingers, resting his hands on his knees, relaxed and comfortable as he continues.

“Your obsession betrays your weakness, Amber. While you’ve defined yourself and your brand, much like your jackass of a husband, you both still possess at least one shared quality, and that’s hanging onto what your talent has allowed you to do in the ring. You may indeed continue to be a great talent for years to come. It’s possible you’ll be able to be sent into retirement, someday, with most of your talent intact. But you will be sent to , not decide on, retirement. No one with two functioning eyes believes you’ll be able to walk away from the wrestling industry on your own. I don’t really look forward to it, even. I can appreciate your husband’s suffering in perpetuity, but you haven’t really slighted me on a personal level. The point I’m driving home is that you need this. You need the wrestling ring. You need to succeed at it, ultimately. Because if you can’t succeed at wrestling, you have nothing else you’re as talented at. Yes, you’ve struggled with confidence and it means you cannot pull yourself away from wrestling, so you’ll never truly be able to cultivate any other talent to the same degree. This is it for you, and when I best you at the Denzel Porter Invitational? It will show that much more how, regardless of what setbacks may come my way, I have the confidence to overcome. Even when it’s against someone who supposedly makes magic and steals shows. I happen to be a show stealer of my own. What do you think that means for the caliber of this match? The world will know, soon enough.”

He stands and cirlces around to the back of the sofa, firmly placing his hands on the back cushions and leaning towards us from the short distance of the drone camera.

“You and I aren’t that far apart in our total years of actively competing in the ring. But like Novak Djokovic, I took some time off to make the best decision for myself, and it’s already paid dividends. I am molding a pocket dimension spawned of the wrestling tree alongside the Game Changers, in Level Up Wrestling, where I also set records as Power Champion. I main evented one night of their two-night, biggest event of the year, Final Fantasy. I’m on a course to take down the seemingly indefinite Thunder Pro Wrestling Duos Champions, the brothers Malvados, alongside Buster Gloves, introducing them and everyone else to Critical Hit.”

Larry straightens his posture and strides back to the side of the office where daylight has began to wane, but has yet to disappear behind the slice of Manhattan skyline near his office.

“This year’s Denzel Porter Invitation will be marked by even bigger matches, rivalries being cemented or even sparked, and the cream of the wrestling crop coming out to support what the Auteur of Breaking News has brought together. What you’ll see in the match between Tact and Bane-Ryan is a true clash of styles, and clash of personalities. We’re going to put on a clinic that is purely our interpretation of fine art. Because neither of us wants to work as fine artists. We’re wrestlers who want to represent the styles that have made our careers thrive and granted us invitation to this grandest of stages.”

He raises his hands to his suit lapels, grasping them.

“In the end, though, with this battle of confidence versus confidence in crisis, Amber and her fans will discover a most humbling Tact Fact. You will not overcome the obstacle I present, when I bring a nauseating and garish reality to the forefront of our match…”

“I represent everything you cannot be, and your brilliance will burnout under the cold breath of my might.”

With a tug of the lapel and smirking face, we fade to black.]]> “There are many perceptions about wrestlers, especially with how many subculture branches have been borne from the tree that sprouted wrestling’s genesis. Within each of those branches is a pocket dimension all of the makings of two parties: The visionary who launched the company, and those who inhabit it. From that blend of talent and leadership, for better or worse – the company’s culture is created. It will never be static, morphing and shaping based on the evolution of the company. Once more, that evolution could be for better or for worse…”

Turning, we see the clear visage of the Tactilizing One, himself – Larry Tact.

“Everyone understands The Denzel Porter Invitational was created to bring those pocket dimensions together, and in doing so, set an example to the world of what we can achieve together. Denzel hasn’t been all talk, either. To his credit, he has stepped up and set example after example of his own – be it a rankings list, inviting us to see his show previews and rundowns, covering “BREAKING NEWS,” and it goes on. You could make a list of ‘The Top Ten Ways Denzel Porter Set The Example For Wrestling To Follow…’ and why?”

He gives a short but affirming nod.

“Because there are more than only ten.”

His golden blonde hair cascades in a wavy, sheen curtain a bit past his shoulders. Typically, he would tie it back, but he has left it loose this afternoon.

“And so it goes, we have the second annual – at this point, you should all feel confident and comfortable in following my example, to support the man to cement this Invitational as such – Denzel Porter Invitational. You may think I’m crazy to say it, but there are always malcontents who will seek to tear down what wrestling as a whole has worked to build. We were not where we are today twenty three years ago. While it’s clear there is still a great deal of toxicity in this industry, it’s important to also take a moment to acknowledge where we’ve come from. At this event, there will be representatives from so many of the pocket dimensions I mentioned earlier. Yes, it’s thanks to Denzel and his team to network and collaborate with those who have agreed to step through the ropes. Let’s not allow it to slip past, however, what will also be seen: Not only representatives of company’s, and those who lead them, but so many backgrounds and identities and orientations. It’s a great deal of progress from twenty three years ago, AKA the year 2000. That’s not to say there isn’t work still to be done. For the love of the ring, there’s plenty people will need to do long after many of us are gone. It’s figuratively and literally a constant and ongoing struggle… in other words, It’s evolution, people.”

The blinders have been raised from the floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall, allowing the sun to bathe the office of Tact Enterprise’s leader, the backlight empowering the light blue pinstripes of his navy blue suit. A triple-striped tie of three green shades brings out the olive in his eyes.

“This is the way wrestling evolves. We pick up and live in a time and place where those who struggled previously have placed it. We will leave it in a time and place for the next generations to decide where they need to pick up from. It will never become static because that’s the nature of the wrestling industry. So do take a moment to appreciate where we each started, and don’t constantly look to battle over where we should go next. That’s disrespectful to those who brought us to this point, through their own struggle. It’s a disservice to those living now, who cannot enjoy and appreciate the time and place we are privileged to compete in. It can be a miserable existence if you never stop looking towards what lies ahead, and truly see what lies before you.”

With that, Larry turns and strides over to a set of plush taupe-colored seats surrounding a meeting table that can seat four, but he passes it a takes a seat on a matching sofa, crossing a leg horizontally.

“Of course, I don’t expect most of you to heed much of my advice. Hell, it feels like this industry moves so differently than when I started – also in the year two thousand. There’s practically a news cycle now! I took six years off from any active presence in professional wrestling. I devoted myself to my family and firstborn child. When I returned in 2021, it was like a prisoner reentering the free world. It was a shock to my system. Now, I’ve adjusted to the machinations of this new wrestling world. However, I’ve still yet to return the favor, and shock the existing system.”

He draws his fingers together under his head tilted so his chin is about level with them. The daylight kept his countenance a reflection of solemnity to this point, but there is a little less blasting daylight in this area of the room. We begin to see the toll the ring has taken on the man, inside a couple years’ shy of his fortieth birthday.

“Don’t worry, I practice what I preach. In the time since I returned, much like the fifteen or so years before it, I appreciated what we inherited. I think I appreciated it too much, freely moving and competing to my heart’s content. I never truly wanted to stop, but I made a decision that had to be among the most difficult in my life. There was no injury that forced me away, no heartbreaking story of a fallen man. I walked away voluntarily. That was the moment when I did look to the future, but not simply for wrestling. For the whole world, I decided I would make the selfless choice of raising my son like a proper father. I decided to do what I needed to do to give the world a son who embodied everything they didn’t want to appreciate through my own struggle. So I would pass on my strengths, alert him of my mistakes, and if the world didn’t accept him then they never deserved to find goodness.”

He abruptly leans back in his seat.

“The result is to be determined, of course. He’s hardly been released to the world. But I certainly haven’t had complete influence over him, either. That’s a story for another time, and none of you deserve to hear it anyway. In fact, you’re here for someone else entirely, aren’t you? The reason I’m getting… admittedly, elevated attention from the wrestling journalists and dirt sheets is because they all want to hear my comments on who I’ve been set to face at the Denzel Porter Invitational. One Amber-Bane Ryan.”

The exterior toll of his tenure in the industry has shown itself mostly as now-faint scars on Larry’s body. Scars of remembrance will be the toll wrestling has taken upon him, as he wouldn’t otherwise have the years of trauma logged on and within his body. Save for a few deeper ones, he sees those scars as emblems of pride and esteem, fuel for his maintaining passion and excellence.

“I understand Amber Bane-Ryan has quite the following. I don’t need to go into it much with you all, and so, I won’t. Needless to say, she has never taken such a break as I did, so thoroughly devoting herself for so long to something else in her life. Why is that? She simply cannot. The reason? She is simply not talented enough to do so. For whatever talent she has is largely embedded in the skills she has developed in the ring. She has been in SCW for so long, it’s practically her company by default. Maybe that offends her husband, Mac? I doubt it, since he knows the truth is that Amber is the more talented wrestler of them. It’s no shame, only the reality. Maybe that’s why Mac allowed her to be eliminated from Level Up Wrestling’s ‘The Last Of Us, Part Two”… by a rookie wrestler. It was a gauntlet extravaganza, which drew an audience outside of Level Up’s general audience, thanks to the rich prize, and the glory of being the sole survivor of that raucous gauntlet. Mac Bane, somehow, failed his wife at that particular moment of 2022. About a year ago, Amber was eliminated by a rookie wrestler named Paul Freedom, and it was a telltale sign of Mac trying to cast a certain perception. I believe otherwise, and that’s one reason why I wanted to challenge Amber Bane-Ryan to this match. While it’s true I may have fallen to Mac at the CCPE versus The World spectacular, I’ve got another shot lined up. I had meant to start my 2023 wave off the backs of them both, but I suppose I’ll have to settle for using the wave that’s double in size. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

He chuckles at that, and we see the trademark smirk that creeps up the corner of his mouth.

“Amber, I know you are not the one who will back down to any adversity. I’m aware that even injury has not made a strong enough case for you to pursue other ventures in the world. You’re so obsessed with the rush of being in wrestling that you find a way to hang in there. We are so entirely different, you and I. Think about what I said, the decision I needed to make. It was the toughest decision of my life, but it wasn’t one I regratted at all. I’m going to share with you why. It’s because I have something you’ve convinced the wrestling world you either possess when it matters most, or don’t need at all. Regardless of which, it’s a lie. You have the choice of what you contribute to the evolution of wrestling, and adding to the fabric of where it will be left when you’re done and dusted – and sooner or later, it will happen, even if by your demise. It’s inevitable. What isn’t so defined, however, is whether you ever could have the quality I’m naming…”

“Confidence.”

He places his crossed leg back down onto the carpeted floor, and releases his entwined fingers, resting his hands on his knees, relaxed and comfortable as he continues.

“Your obsession betrays your weakness, Amber. While you’ve defined yourself and your brand, much like your jackass of a husband, you both still possess at least one shared quality, and that’s hanging onto what your talent has allowed you to do in the ring. You may indeed continue to be a great talent for years to come. It’s possible you’ll be able to be sent into retirement, someday, with most of your talent intact. But you will be sent to , not decide on, retirement. No one with two functioning eyes believes you’ll be able to walk away from the wrestling industry on your own. I don’t really look forward to it, even. I can appreciate your husband’s suffering in perpetuity, but you haven’t really slighted me on a personal level. The point I’m driving home is that you need this. You need the wrestling ring. You need to succeed at it, ultimately. Because if you can’t succeed at wrestling, you have nothing else you’re as talented at. Yes, you’ve struggled with confidence and it means you cannot pull yourself away from wrestling, so you’ll never truly be able to cultivate any other talent to the same degree. This is it for you, and when I best you at the Denzel Porter Invitational? It will show that much more how, regardless of what setbacks may come my way, I have the confidence to overcome. Even when it’s against someone who supposedly makes magic and steals shows. I happen to be a show stealer of my own. What do you think that means for the caliber of this match? The world will know, soon enough.”

He stands and cirlces around to the back of the sofa, firmly placing his hands on the back cushions and leaning towards us from the short distance of the drone camera.

“You and I aren’t that far apart in our total years of actively competing in the ring. But like Novak Djokovic, I took some time off to make the best decision for myself, and it’s already paid dividends. I am molding a pocket dimension spawned of the wrestling tree alongside the Game Changers, in Level Up Wrestling, where I also set records as Power Champion. I main evented one night of their two-night, biggest event of the year, Final Fantasy. I’m on a course to take down the seemingly indefinite Thunder Pro Wrestling Duos Champions, the brothers Malvados, alongside Buster Gloves, introducing them and everyone else to Critical Hit.”

Larry straightens his posture and strides back to the side of the office where daylight has began to wane, but has yet to disappear behind the slice of Manhattan skyline near his office.

“This year’s Denzel Porter Invitation will be marked by even bigger matches, rivalries being cemented or even sparked, and the cream of the wrestling crop coming out to support what the Auteur of Breaking News has brought together. What you’ll see in the match between Tact and Bane-Ryan is a true clash of styles, and clash of personalities. We’re going to put on a clinic that is purely our interpretation of fine art. Because neither of us wants to work as fine artists. We’re wrestlers who want to represent the styles that have made our careers thrive and granted us invitation to this grandest of stages.”

He raises his hands to his suit lapels, grasping them.

“In the end, though, with this battle of confidence versus confidence in crisis, Amber and her fans will discover a most humbling Tact Fact. You will not overcome the obstacle I present, when I bring a nauseating and garish reality to the forefront of our match…”

“I represent everything you cannot be, and your brilliance will burnout under the cold breath of my might.”

With a tug of the lapel and smirking face, we fade to black.]]> <![CDATA[IT WAS LACKLAN ALL ALONG!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45740 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 20:59:10 -0800 Dolly Waters]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45740

A Side Conversation

Just before recording a piece of promotional material against her sweet-sixteen March Madness opponent, Sidney Grey, our beloved Dolly Waters was coming clean to her assistant.

Now, thank goodness for narration subtitles and such, as someone with the fourth-grade mental capacity such as JMont might mistake the phrase “coming clean” for some lude act he practices between herpes outbreaks- but for Dolly, this act of coming clean was in regards to her intentions for her on again, off again rival/mentor/frenemy, Sarah Lacklan.

Sarah Lacklan… one of the world's most dominant professional wrestlers.

A person who has held championship gold in a number of companies higher than J Mont can even count…

It’s seven.

Seven is the number of companies.

Sarah Lacklan… one of the most feared names the wrestling industry has ever known, with a reputation for cracking grown mens skulls between her rock solid thighs. We could go into a long list of Lacklan’s accomplishments here, and the names of people she’s defeated that span the upper echelon of the industry over, but we’re afraid it might tire you out. So instead, we’ll just put it this way: Sarah Lacklan is better than you. She’s better than JMont, and ESPECIALLY better than Kal-X- and for the first time ever, in a story that’s been long awaited, speculated, and even fantasized by media talking-heads, she’s going to be partnering with…

...Dolly?

Patel Gagendeep, the trusted assistant of Dolly Waters, reaches over to his boss. A gentle, and curious hand brushing on her shoulder. Standing in front of Patel, Dolly leds him a slight turn of the cheek, granting him a piece of her tired eye, and one full ear,

...? Dolly stops in her trek through her recently commandeered metaphysical shop, a place where she’s been practicing black-magic as a means to give her a new advantage in the wrestling ring. Now, that doesn’t mean she’s going out and shooting fireballs out her opponents, or necromancing skeletons to do her bidding.

What she’s been practicing is something called manifestations. A form of the Law Of Attraction, but in a darker sense. Maybe it’ll cause her opponents-to-be to accidentally reveal a weakness, or trip and pull a ligament on their way to the ring, maybe they’ll contract some awful venereal disease from a Las Vegas prostitute, in the case of JMont that might just happen all on it’s own… but maybe the black-magic doesn’t really “work” at all, or a more interesting concept, maybe it works in a different way. Maybe by believing it works, Dolly Waters manifests confidence within herself to get an extra edge over her opponents. Whatever the case may be, the results have been… mixed, to say the least. Dolly used this so-called dark energy to manifest losses for specific wrestlers she thought might block her path in the XWF March Madness tournament. Of the six wrestlers she targeted, only three of them failed to win, and in the most curious way, one of those she targeted was none other than Sarah Lacklan. Doly’s old rival and mentor, who recently made her return to XWF and defeated Dolly for the tag-team championships at the SnowJob PPV.

...earlier you started to say- Patel continues, waking up beside Dolly now, turning to face his boss as she kneels down and begins rummaging through an old box of crystals, -something about Sarah Lacklan. It sounded like you were coming clean about something.

Dolly lets out a long sigh, and pulls back a long blond bang behind her ear. She stops rummaging through the box and gives Patel her full attention,

I wasn’t trying to manifest a loss for Lacklan in the tournament…

A look of incredulity slides onto Patel’s features. For weeks, he’s heard nothing from his boss, but lament, anger, venom and disdain towards Sarah Lacklan. In fact, the entire reason the two of them are in this metaphysical shop now, rummaging through old spell books, tarot decks, expired potions and dusty crystals was a reaction to Dolly losing her tag championship’s to Lacklan and her sister at SnowJob.

But you specifically manifested a loss for her in March Madness, when you pitched that letter she wrote you into that cauldron. Heck, you even ran down to the ring during her match, and she lost to Raion Kido!

I didn’t get involved in that match to try and make Sarah lose… I wanted to stop the manifestation. I wanted to help her win.

...I don’t understand.

If Lacklan was going to lose in March Madness, I wanted it to be because I defeated her in the finals. She beat me in the finals in 2019… she beat me at SnowJob… and both times, she was right. There were lessons I needed to learn. It took me a time or two, but after really understanding those words she wrote me, I know now that she was right. She does love me…

From the box of crystals Dolly pulls out a pink and white stone, a rose quartz. In metaphysics the rose quartz is said to attract love and comradery.

She turns away from Patel and gives the jagged little rock a rub with her thumb. The rock is very old and worn, yet its colors are still bright and vibrant. Its edges are rough, but smooth enough for Dolly’s thumb to glide over without a scrape. Just like her own heart, it may not be perfect, but it’s perfect enough to love.

…and I love her too, Gag.

Have you told her yet?

She already knows… All I need to do is get her to commit.

Dolly stands from the box of crystals, the glow of her smile shining on the rose quartz as she rubs it carefully and places it in her pocket. She pulls out her phone and dials…

PROMO TIME!

A Side Conversation

PROMO TIME!

Sarah Lacklan is my partner for the Denzel Porter Invitational, LIVE from viva Las Vegas!

You heard it right, folks! Sarah sunburn Lacklan and Dolly Waters will be teaming up to face off against…

Dolly leans her head off camera, presumably checking her notes.

Ja- Jamaunji? J’mont? JAY Mont, and something called Klax, or Kleenex… or goddamn, where do you people come up with these dumbass names?

But ain’t this just a dandy?

The current XWF tag champion, Sarah Lacklan, and the former XWF tag Champion Dolly Waters are teaming together to take on a team that I have a hard time believing anyone has ever even heard of.

Let me make something crystal effing’ clear to J’mont and Klax. Neither one of you have what it takes to go toe to toe with wrestlers like myself of Sarah Lacklan, because if you did, you’d already be signed over here- where the real wrestling happens, in the XWF. You might as well be a couple of mere mortals getting ready to clash with the titans of Valhalla when it comes to professional wrestling, and if you need any further convincing, let me get you started with a few keynotes:

In cross-promotional/invitational tag team tournaments Dolly Waters boasts an 8-1 record, along with a dusty OCW trophy in my cabinet, those are prett effin’ rare by the way.

I’m a two time tag team champion in the XWF. The XWF being the very wrestling promotion that made yer’ daddy’s career renaissance something worth mentioning, J’mont… yeah, that’s right, I heard yer’ a CCPE guy.
You know something funny about CCPE guys? The best of 'em… guess where they come from. Right here, the XWF. Where I’ve battled week in and week out against top tier talent for nearly seven years.

Now I’m sure yer’ rolling yer eyes. I’m sure that the fact yer’ chomping at the bit to be featured on a wrestling program, the DPI-2, that’s SPONSORED, and has it’s entire promotional cycle being broadcast by the XWF means nothing to you, because let’s face it, anyone with an actual eye for professional wrestling talent knows one thing to be certain about J’mont. He’s all braun, and no brains.

He looks good in Twitter selfies, but when he opens his mouth it’s like listening to a third grader trying to recite a sexually explicit novel.

But I digress back to the point… try and follow along big guy,

Two time XWF tag champ, Dolly Waters, right? Wins in cross promotional tag contests like they’re going out of style, right? She’s teaming up with Sarah Lacklan, the person who just took the tag championships away from me at the last XWF PPV. Granted it was a ladder match, but can you guess who the top two people on that ladder were as the match ended?

I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t J’mont, or KalX. Not just because they’re not signed in XWF, because they don’t have what it takes to face this level of competition, but because they’re too cowardly to even try. Hell, the last I checked Kalx hasn’t even submitted a roster-application to the XWF, which is supposedly required to even participate in this event. Sounds like to me that someone’s got cold feet, J’mont.

Could you blame him? Because after this next point I’m about to make, I certainly couldn’t.

The last time there was a cross-promotional event sponsored in-part by the XWF, with it’s results being broadcasted by the XWF, it was CCP’s very own Cannabis Cup. Guess who was in a tag match on that card… well! None other than J’mont himself, and he was teaming up with another former CCP guy in Elijah Martin

LULLLLLZZZ! I made Elijah Martin tap out like a little bitch once by the way. Just months removed from a torn ACL! But I digress again.

J’Mont and Elijah teamed at the Cannibus Cup to face off against a team of women, much like Lacklan and myself, and after those two clowns spat off a bunch of misogynistic bullshit, J’mont had to watch, helplessly while Lisslie Hope drop kicked Martin’s face off and covered him for the one, two, three. Now, ain’t it interesting how history seems to be repeating? Not even a year later, another cross promotional event being broadcast by the XWF, and a pair of CCPE guys are getting ready to go up against a team of women wrestlers who have been nothing but underestimated and discredited by people who dont know better.

See, J’mont, your size and strength, it don’t mean shit. Yer’ commonplace schizophrenic episodes? I can’t tell you how many bland, boring, downright generic assholes I’ve had the pleasure of laughing at in the XWF who have these same multiple personality disorders, while I maimed them and their headcase friends.

That’s exactly whats going to happen to you in Las Vegas, J’mont. And if you don’t believe, go ask yer’ daddy Chris Page who he REALLY thinks is the better wrestler between you and I, between you and Lacklan. HELL! Go ask Denzel Porter himself. Because if you wanna’ know the truth… the dirt sheets were right. See, Dolly Waters didn’t sign up to wrestle on this show. Dolly was approached by Denzel Porter, a man that nobody wrestlers like yer’self beg for media attention… he approached ME to wrestle against you.

You know why I think that’s the case? Let me take that back… wanna know why I KNOW Denzel approached me to wrestle against you?

Because someone like J’mont cant carry top billing on a card. Denzel knows that the REAL talent is XWF branded. Tried and true. It’s Dolly WAters. It’s Sarah Lacklan. It’s the finalists of yer’ daddy’s Cannabis Cup. It’s the top talent in yer’ daddy’s stable….

And it’s about to prove to you exactly where you DON’T belong at the Denzel Porter Invitational…. And that’s in the ring with wrestlers like Dolly Waters and Sarah Lacklan.

Go on and take a bow, kid. It’s all over but the cryin’]]> <![CDATA[Overzealous or Making History?]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45739 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 20:58:29 -0800 Zara Ivory]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45739 There may be some that feel as if Zara was being greedy and overzealous…even maybe having the feeling of being better than others. She was the longest-reigning Zion Wrestling Gateway Champion, a Trios Champion in New Frontier Wrestling, and before Prime Canadian Wrestling had seemingly folded, she was the inaugural Trainwreck Champion. Now she was taking part in the star match that This is Awesome Promotions was hosting at the 2nd Denzel Porter Invitational for their newly announced Women’s Championship. It was something that she was highly aiming for…whether she was a single or co-champion with someone else, it didn’t matter to her as long as she was the inaugural TIA Women’s Champion.

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

Zara knew that her schedule was about to get extremely hectic, but she welcomed the chaos that was coming her way. She was bouncing between Vegas, Illinois, and Japan for shows, but the green-haired woman really wouldn’t have it any other way. She was currently able to take a bit of a hiatus while in Japan even though she had a title defense coming up very, very soon. She was in her cousin’s hotel room so the two could discuss the upcoming schedule, since it affected both of them, among other things. Marley sat across from Zara at a little table in the room, having gotten both of them a bottle of water before they started chatting.

Zara Ivory: The next few weeks are going to be intense, Mar. I mean, I know you’d be coming to Japan anyway because of Samuel, but we’re going to be bouncing back and forth a lot. If you don’t want to do a lot of bouncing back and forth with me, that’s fine.

Marley rolled her eyes as she put the cap back on her water. Before she could speak, both women heard a meow and a big fluffball of fur jumped in Zara’s lap, and she began running her fingers through the Maine Coon kitten’s fur with a light grin.

Zara Ivory: Krueger but no Samara, huh?

Marley Divata: She’s getting older, so I don’t think traveling much would be good for her. Plus it’s not like I could bring Circe either, so I asked a neighbor to watch them instead of boarding them again…last time I did that, I ended up coming home with the fluffball, so I think I’m banned from going, alone of course, to the place I found to board them now. And he’s still growing, so I don’t want him to end up with separation anxiety or anything like that. Just wait until he’s bigger…I told Samuel I’d be walking him around the arenas we’re at on a leash.

Marley laughed a little and shrugged a bit. Obviously, she wasn’t actually banned from going there…Samuel wouldn’t try to do that to her, but she was trying to behave. And she knew that if she went back other than to pick up the animals’ necessities, she’d end up bringing home another poor thing that needed a home. She reached over and gave the kitten a few light scratches under his chin then sat back in her chair and looked at her cousin with a serious expression.

Marley Divata: I wouldn’t be a very good manager if I didn’t come to every show with you, Zara. You’ve already had me skip so many before…it doesn’t feel right watching some of your matches from at home or the hotel.

Zara Ivory: We also didn’t expect me to do as much as I’ve started doing, Mar. When I went pro a little over a year ago, I was just with Zion and NFW. Now I’m with them, with WGWF, was part of the first World Series of Wrestling, I’ve started acting some for Splat, and I’m taking part in the 2nd Denzel Porter Invitational. I never expected this, and I know you didn’t as well. It’s not fair for me to ask you for all of that time, especially when you have a wedding to plan as well.

Zara gave Krueger one last back rub before she lifted him out of her lap and set him on the floor gently. She watched the kitten look at her like ‘What the Hell?’ before ultimately deciding to go to Marley instead. The two women laughed as the ball of orange fur gracefully leaped into his human momma’s lap, but the laughter died down after a few moments.

Marley Divata: Zara…I go where you go, you know this. Hell, without you asking me to be your manager, I wouldn’t even have a wedding to plan because I never would have met Samuel. You seem to continuously forget that everything amazing in my life right now is because of you.

Zara Ivory: You needed help at the time…that’s what family is all about, Marley. You finding him was just an extra…I don’t want to say a bonus, but I can’t think of another word right now that would work. I’m just happy things have ended up working out so well for you. And if I decide that you don’t have to be at every single show I’m booked for then that’s just all there is to it. Marcus goes with me since he’s wrestling for only XIX right now and that gives us our time together too…you need your time with Samuel without having to rush around getting ready for a show with me.

Marley eyed her cousin as the other woman drank some of the water she had been given before she sighed. Saying nothing, she swirled the water around in the bottle with one hand while the other was tangled up in the kitten’s long, orange fur. Another sigh escaped her lips and she finally nodded in agreement.

Marley Divata: Fine…I know you’ll just end up being as stubborn as I am with all of this so fine. But any title matches or defenses, no matter what company they’re with…you can bet your ass that I’m going to be there despite how you feel.

Zara Ivory: Now that, I wouldn’t have any other way by any means. For big matches like that, I wouldn’t want you anywhere but at ringside for me. Now since we were talking y’alls wedding a minute ago…got any of it planned yet?

Marley laughed a little and ran her fingers through her hair but gave a small nod as it was. They had at least picked a date, but they hadn’t announced it quite yet, wanting to get a little more of it planned out first.

Marley Divata: Well…

The scene faded out as the two women began talking about what bit had been planned out already. Marley knew that Zara wouldn’t say anything to anyone other than probably Marcus, so she had no issues telling her about any of it since she knew it’d be kept a secret.

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

Nothing could properly prepare Zara for the Star Match set for the 3rd night of the Denzel Porter Invitational. Having to eliminate 2 other women while trying to avoid elimination herself? To any normal person, that kind of match would probably sound like Hell in the ring, but to Zara? Well, that sounded exactly like the kind of insanity and chaos that she reveled in…that she excelled in when it came right down to it. It seemed like the more turmoil that was able to happen in a match, the better she did in it. The true test for her, now at least, would be in the Star match.

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

Zara Ivory: I suppose when you look at it, this Star match is no worse than being in a rumble match in a way. You have to worry about being eliminated while still getting eliminations yourself. One wrong move, one wrong alliance even, and that’s all she wrote for you. You essentially screw yourself over if you have even the smallest of slip-ups of any kind.

Zara paused and licked her lips, sighing ever so slightly after she did so. After a few seconds of silence, the green-haired beauty smirked a little.

Zara Ivory: What people don’t realize is that I’m more than just a little quirky. I’m more than just a little eccentric. High-pressure matches, matches filled with chaos and that can be filled with insanity? Those matches are where I excel. Those types of matches are right where I feel at home.

The woman glanced down at the bags that were beside the chair she was sitting in. She was still in Japan, having just finished her latest title defense on Zion Wrestling’s Monday night Mayhem show. It had notched another win, another defense under her belt, and it inched her closer to breaking yet another record as the Gateway Champion. For a moment, she debated with herself about bringing the titles out of their bags but then decided against it.

Zara Ivory: I could go on about how dominant of a champion I am…about how I’m breaking records every chance I get and that’s why I would make such a perfect inaugural Women’s Champion for This is Awesome promotions. However! What I do in the future is not defined by what I’m doing now or what I’ve done…what matters is what I do on the 3rd night of the Denzel Porter Invitational. What matters is what I do in order to ensure that I’m the winner of the Star match whether it be as a co-champion or the sole champion.

The Filipino woman sighed and stretched her tired muscles out, looking for a little more relief in the process. She wasn’t one to complain…Hell, she didn’t even do that after she was out of action for a few weeks back in October after she and her tag partners had been jumped after a vicious match. Why would she start complaining now when things were going great, and she was being kept busy like she had always wanted?

Zara Ivory: I’ve never been impressed by Crystal Zdunich, and I’ve seen enough of her work to know whether I should be or not. I work with her in NFW, after all. However, I guess if it comes down to it, I’ll work with her long enough to take out Brittani and make it easier on myself to add another achievement to my repertoire. But that will never make me okay with her, and I likely never will be. If people don’t like that then I don’t really care.

The woman paused again, thinking about the other that she was familiar with thanks to the World Series of Wrestling…also the other person she needed to look at trying to team up with. Now normally, she wasn’t one to be alright with teaming up with people outside of the Queens of Chaos, but with it coming down to the opportunity that was at hand…well, she’d get over her uneasiness for however long she needed to.

Zara Ivory: Selena Frost…you were quite formidable in the World Series of Wrestling. Quite frankly, you did amazing in it and it was awesome to get to compete against you. It seems like we both drew Jessie Lee as one we need to eliminate in order to win. Now I’m not one to typically suggest teaming up with someone that is outside of the usual circle I would team with, but I firmly believe the two of us could do some major damage by acting together. It would end up benefiting both of us, after all, if we took Jessie Lee out as soon as we’re able to do so.

Zara licked her lips before leaning to the side to grab a bottle of water, and taking a sip of it. She placed the bottle on a small side table before sitting back in the chair again, taking a moment to regain the comfort that she previously had before moving for her water. She lazily drooped her arms along the arms of the chair before she continued.

Zara Ivory: Brittani Helms…I’ve heard of you. I’ve heard of what you’re able to do, and I look forward to meeting you in this match, but it’ll be a shame that you won’t really be able to enjoy it. I have a goal…a goal to become the inaugural TIA Women’s Champion whether it’s as a co-champion with someone else or as the sole champion. What little legacy I’ve built over the last 14 months as been built on breaking records and being the best over the others. At the Denzel Porter Invitational, I plan on adding to my legacy by making sure I take you out one way or another. It’s nothing personal by any means…it’s just simply business. I have a goal in mind, and I plan on achieving it no matter what it takes in order for me to do so.

Taking a hand to her face, the woman rubbed at her tired eyes. The time differences and the traveling would catch up to her during the week, but she was lucky that she didn’t have anything for a few days at least. It would give her a reprieve and allow her to rest rather than over-pushing herself as she had done in the past. Zara held her chin in her hand for a moment, looking a little lost in thought at the idea of making history again, but she quickly regained her composure. There was one more person to touch base on, after all.

Zara Ivory: Jessie Lee…you’re the mystery to me, here. Until this match had been announced, I had never heard of you in all honesty. Now that doesn’t mean anything, of course, other than the fact that we run in different circles…in different companies. Naturally, that’s not a bad thing, but it simply means that we haven’t had the chance to be introduced, in a way. We’re not familiar with each other’s work, and that can be a good and bad thing. It’ll allow us to give the fans something that they haven’t seen before when we square up which is always a positive, but not knowing how our styles will mesh together? In the end, that could always negatively impact how things go. We’ll just have to see when the time comes, won’t we? But much like when it comes to Brittani, I won’t be holding anything back against you. You’re another person for me to take down to add to the history that I’m creating for myself.

Pausing a final time, the green-haired woman began to slowly push herself up and out of the chair. A light groan escaped her lips as her sore and tired muscles yelled at her for removing herself from the comfort of the chair, but she ignored her body’s protests. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing a little as her fingers managed to find a few knots in the process. Zara began walking around the hotel room, seemingly heading towards the bathroom for a long soak in a hot bath to soothe her aches and pains. Before going into the room, she paused and looked back at the camera that she had set-up for the evening’s events.

Zara Ivory: Ladies…I’m going to warn you now. When I put my mind to something, I get it one way or another. Whatever it takes, whoever I have to go through…it doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. Whatever I have to put my body through in order to walk away as the or one of the inaugural This Is Awesome Women’s Champions will be done. You’ve all had your time, and right now? Well right now, I’m on top of my game. This title will be mine one way or another. I’ll see you all on the 3rd night at the Denzel Porter Invitational…and you’ll all see me walking away with that championship.

With that being said, Zara walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a tight click and the turn of the lock. By doing that, the rest of the room was cast in a shadow, effectively ending what the green-haired woman had planned for the night.]]> There may be some that feel as if Zara was being greedy and overzealous…even maybe having the feeling of being better than others. She was the longest-reigning Zion Wrestling Gateway Champion, a Trios Champion in New Frontier Wrestling, and before Prime Canadian Wrestling had seemingly folded, she was the inaugural Trainwreck Champion. Now she was taking part in the star match that This is Awesome Promotions was hosting at the 2nd Denzel Porter Invitational for their newly announced Women’s Championship. It was something that she was highly aiming for…whether she was a single or co-champion with someone else, it didn’t matter to her as long as she was the inaugural TIA Women’s Champion.

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

Zara knew that her schedule was about to get extremely hectic, but she welcomed the chaos that was coming her way. She was bouncing between Vegas, Illinois, and Japan for shows, but the green-haired woman really wouldn’t have it any other way. She was currently able to take a bit of a hiatus while in Japan even though she had a title defense coming up very, very soon. She was in her cousin’s hotel room so the two could discuss the upcoming schedule, since it affected both of them, among other things. Marley sat across from Zara at a little table in the room, having gotten both of them a bottle of water before they started chatting.

Zara Ivory: The next few weeks are going to be intense, Mar. I mean, I know you’d be coming to Japan anyway because of Samuel, but we’re going to be bouncing back and forth a lot. If you don’t want to do a lot of bouncing back and forth with me, that’s fine.

Marley rolled her eyes as she put the cap back on her water. Before she could speak, both women heard a meow and a big fluffball of fur jumped in Zara’s lap, and she began running her fingers through the Maine Coon kitten’s fur with a light grin.

Zara Ivory: Krueger but no Samara, huh?

Marley Divata: She’s getting older, so I don’t think traveling much would be good for her. Plus it’s not like I could bring Circe either, so I asked a neighbor to watch them instead of boarding them again…last time I did that, I ended up coming home with the fluffball, so I think I’m banned from going, alone of course, to the place I found to board them now. And he’s still growing, so I don’t want him to end up with separation anxiety or anything like that. Just wait until he’s bigger…I told Samuel I’d be walking him around the arenas we’re at on a leash.

Marley laughed a little and shrugged a bit. Obviously, she wasn’t actually banned from going there…Samuel wouldn’t try to do that to her, but she was trying to behave. And she knew that if she went back other than to pick up the animals’ necessities, she’d end up bringing home another poor thing that needed a home. She reached over and gave the kitten a few light scratches under his chin then sat back in her chair and looked at her cousin with a serious expression.

Marley Divata: I wouldn’t be a very good manager if I didn’t come to every show with you, Zara. You’ve already had me skip so many before…it doesn’t feel right watching some of your matches from at home or the hotel.

Zara Ivory: We also didn’t expect me to do as much as I’ve started doing, Mar. When I went pro a little over a year ago, I was just with Zion and NFW. Now I’m with them, with WGWF, was part of the first World Series of Wrestling, I’ve started acting some for Splat, and I’m taking part in the 2nd Denzel Porter Invitational. I never expected this, and I know you didn’t as well. It’s not fair for me to ask you for all of that time, especially when you have a wedding to plan as well.

Zara gave Krueger one last back rub before she lifted him out of her lap and set him on the floor gently. She watched the kitten look at her like ‘What the Hell?’ before ultimately deciding to go to Marley instead. The two women laughed as the ball of orange fur gracefully leaped into his human momma’s lap, but the laughter died down after a few moments.

Marley Divata: Zara…I go where you go, you know this. Hell, without you asking me to be your manager, I wouldn’t even have a wedding to plan because I never would have met Samuel. You seem to continuously forget that everything amazing in my life right now is because of you.

Zara Ivory: You needed help at the time…that’s what family is all about, Marley. You finding him was just an extra…I don’t want to say a bonus, but I can’t think of another word right now that would work. I’m just happy things have ended up working out so well for you. And if I decide that you don’t have to be at every single show I’m booked for then that’s just all there is to it. Marcus goes with me since he’s wrestling for only XIX right now and that gives us our time together too…you need your time with Samuel without having to rush around getting ready for a show with me.

Marley eyed her cousin as the other woman drank some of the water she had been given before she sighed. Saying nothing, she swirled the water around in the bottle with one hand while the other was tangled up in the kitten’s long, orange fur. Another sigh escaped her lips and she finally nodded in agreement.

Marley Divata: Fine…I know you’ll just end up being as stubborn as I am with all of this so fine. But any title matches or defenses, no matter what company they’re with…you can bet your ass that I’m going to be there despite how you feel.

Zara Ivory: Now that, I wouldn’t have any other way by any means. For big matches like that, I wouldn’t want you anywhere but at ringside for me. Now since we were talking y’alls wedding a minute ago…got any of it planned yet?

Marley laughed a little and ran her fingers through her hair but gave a small nod as it was. They had at least picked a date, but they hadn’t announced it quite yet, wanting to get a little more of it planned out first.

Marley Divata: Well…

The scene faded out as the two women began talking about what bit had been planned out already. Marley knew that Zara wouldn’t say anything to anyone other than probably Marcus, so she had no issues telling her about any of it since she knew it’d be kept a secret.

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

Nothing could properly prepare Zara for the Star Match set for the 3rd night of the Denzel Porter Invitational. Having to eliminate 2 other women while trying to avoid elimination herself? To any normal person, that kind of match would probably sound like Hell in the ring, but to Zara? Well, that sounded exactly like the kind of insanity and chaos that she reveled in…that she excelled in when it came right down to it. It seemed like the more turmoil that was able to happen in a match, the better she did in it. The true test for her, now at least, would be in the Star match.

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

Zara Ivory: I suppose when you look at it, this Star match is no worse than being in a rumble match in a way. You have to worry about being eliminated while still getting eliminations yourself. One wrong move, one wrong alliance even, and that’s all she wrote for you. You essentially screw yourself over if you have even the smallest of slip-ups of any kind.

Zara paused and licked her lips, sighing ever so slightly after she did so. After a few seconds of silence, the green-haired beauty smirked a little.

Zara Ivory: What people don’t realize is that I’m more than just a little quirky. I’m more than just a little eccentric. High-pressure matches, matches filled with chaos and that can be filled with insanity? Those matches are where I excel. Those types of matches are right where I feel at home.

The woman glanced down at the bags that were beside the chair she was sitting in. She was still in Japan, having just finished her latest title defense on Zion Wrestling’s Monday night Mayhem show. It had notched another win, another defense under her belt, and it inched her closer to breaking yet another record as the Gateway Champion. For a moment, she debated with herself about bringing the titles out of their bags but then decided against it.

Zara Ivory: I could go on about how dominant of a champion I am…about how I’m breaking records every chance I get and that’s why I would make such a perfect inaugural Women’s Champion for This is Awesome promotions. However! What I do in the future is not defined by what I’m doing now or what I’ve done…what matters is what I do on the 3rd night of the Denzel Porter Invitational. What matters is what I do in order to ensure that I’m the winner of the Star match whether it be as a co-champion or the sole champion.

The Filipino woman sighed and stretched her tired muscles out, looking for a little more relief in the process. She wasn’t one to complain…Hell, she didn’t even do that after she was out of action for a few weeks back in October after she and her tag partners had been jumped after a vicious match. Why would she start complaining now when things were going great, and she was being kept busy like she had always wanted?

Zara Ivory: I’ve never been impressed by Crystal Zdunich, and I’ve seen enough of her work to know whether I should be or not. I work with her in NFW, after all. However, I guess if it comes down to it, I’ll work with her long enough to take out Brittani and make it easier on myself to add another achievement to my repertoire. But that will never make me okay with her, and I likely never will be. If people don’t like that then I don’t really care.

The woman paused again, thinking about the other that she was familiar with thanks to the World Series of Wrestling…also the other person she needed to look at trying to team up with. Now normally, she wasn’t one to be alright with teaming up with people outside of the Queens of Chaos, but with it coming down to the opportunity that was at hand…well, she’d get over her uneasiness for however long she needed to.

Zara Ivory: Selena Frost…you were quite formidable in the World Series of Wrestling. Quite frankly, you did amazing in it and it was awesome to get to compete against you. It seems like we both drew Jessie Lee as one we need to eliminate in order to win. Now I’m not one to typically suggest teaming up with someone that is outside of the usual circle I would team with, but I firmly believe the two of us could do some major damage by acting together. It would end up benefiting both of us, after all, if we took Jessie Lee out as soon as we’re able to do so.

Zara licked her lips before leaning to the side to grab a bottle of water, and taking a sip of it. She placed the bottle on a small side table before sitting back in the chair again, taking a moment to regain the comfort that she previously had before moving for her water. She lazily drooped her arms along the arms of the chair before she continued.

Zara Ivory: Brittani Helms…I’ve heard of you. I’ve heard of what you’re able to do, and I look forward to meeting you in this match, but it’ll be a shame that you won’t really be able to enjoy it. I have a goal…a goal to become the inaugural TIA Women’s Champion whether it’s as a co-champion with someone else or as the sole champion. What little legacy I’ve built over the last 14 months as been built on breaking records and being the best over the others. At the Denzel Porter Invitational, I plan on adding to my legacy by making sure I take you out one way or another. It’s nothing personal by any means…it’s just simply business. I have a goal in mind, and I plan on achieving it no matter what it takes in order for me to do so.

Taking a hand to her face, the woman rubbed at her tired eyes. The time differences and the traveling would catch up to her during the week, but she was lucky that she didn’t have anything for a few days at least. It would give her a reprieve and allow her to rest rather than over-pushing herself as she had done in the past. Zara held her chin in her hand for a moment, looking a little lost in thought at the idea of making history again, but she quickly regained her composure. There was one more person to touch base on, after all.

Zara Ivory: Jessie Lee…you’re the mystery to me, here. Until this match had been announced, I had never heard of you in all honesty. Now that doesn’t mean anything, of course, other than the fact that we run in different circles…in different companies. Naturally, that’s not a bad thing, but it simply means that we haven’t had the chance to be introduced, in a way. We’re not familiar with each other’s work, and that can be a good and bad thing. It’ll allow us to give the fans something that they haven’t seen before when we square up which is always a positive, but not knowing how our styles will mesh together? In the end, that could always negatively impact how things go. We’ll just have to see when the time comes, won’t we? But much like when it comes to Brittani, I won’t be holding anything back against you. You’re another person for me to take down to add to the history that I’m creating for myself.

Pausing a final time, the green-haired woman began to slowly push herself up and out of the chair. A light groan escaped her lips as her sore and tired muscles yelled at her for removing herself from the comfort of the chair, but she ignored her body’s protests. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing a little as her fingers managed to find a few knots in the process. Zara began walking around the hotel room, seemingly heading towards the bathroom for a long soak in a hot bath to soothe her aches and pains. Before going into the room, she paused and looked back at the camera that she had set-up for the evening’s events.

Zara Ivory: Ladies…I’m going to warn you now. When I put my mind to something, I get it one way or another. Whatever it takes, whoever I have to go through…it doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. Whatever I have to put my body through in order to walk away as the or one of the inaugural This Is Awesome Women’s Champions will be done. You’ve all had your time, and right now? Well right now, I’m on top of my game. This title will be mine one way or another. I’ll see you all on the 3rd night at the Denzel Porter Invitational…and you’ll all see me walking away with that championship.

With that being said, Zara walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a tight click and the turn of the lock. By doing that, the rest of the room was cast in a shadow, effectively ending what the green-haired woman had planned for the night.]]> <![CDATA[Get a Clue!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45738 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 20:23:39 -0800 SnowQueen]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45738

Get a CLUE!

Written by: Selena Frost
Directed/Edited by: Deanna Frost
Based on the Game by Parker Bros
An ‘This is Awesome’ Production

The camera opens up to a dark, dreary mansion in the midst of the most sinister lightning and thunder storm! This is ‘Awesome’ mansion but judging from the eerie music playing as the opening credits roll, it is anything but! Especially as a loud scream fills the skies! A scream of terror! A scream of horror!

A scream of murder!

Immediately, the shot changes to a lounge where five people stand…and two lay on the ground. The five people are dressed in different suits/dresses of color. They are Ms. Brittani Scarlet, Ms. Jessie Green, Col. Crystal Mustard, Mrs. Zara Peacock, and Mrs. Selena White. In each of their hands is held a weapon of some sorts.

The scream, coming from Brittani Scarlet, seems to snap everyone to their senses.

“Stand back!” calls out Selena as she kneels towards the bodies, checking both before shaking her head. “Dead.”

Selena turns over the body of the man, that being Professor PlumSauce! His purple suit is a contrast to the white carpet, as is his ‘Feeling Saucey?’ shirt that he wears underneath. The other woman, dressed entirely in black is rolled over next: Mrs. Black. Her drink of vodka stains the floor.

“How?! And why?!” Jessie demands. “PlumSauce was the one who invited us-“ she desperately pulls out a golden ticket. “We all got invited to this invitational with the promise of a reward to the winner of a contest – why kill the host?!”

“Or one of the contestants?” Zara added, pointing to Mrs. Black.

“Well, it’s obvious!” Col. Crystal Mustard’s eyes narrowed towards Brittani and the gun by her feet. “We all heard the gunshot! Which of us was given the gun?”

“I didn’t do it!” Brittani urged. “Someone tried to grab the gun out of my hand in the dark and the gun went off!”

“You don’t expect anyone to believe that, do you?” laughed Crystal. “You’re the one with the biggest reason to do it! We all were given a weapon soon as we entered and told that the winner would be the person who could get her two ‘targets to leave’… one way or another. And let’s face it, Brittani- out of all of us, you’re the only one without a championship, aren’t you?”

Opening her mouth to protest, Brittani slowly closed it. It was true. Crystal, Zara, Jessie and Selena were all champions in their fields.

“You knew you were no match for all of us in experience and strategy, so you decided to eliminate the man and steal the belt, didn’t you?”
“No!” Brittani begged. “I wouldn’t! That’s not-“
“No one is buying it!” Crystal shouted over Brittani.

“I am!”

The voice came from behind as Selena White stepped over to stand in front of Brittani.

“Selena?” Crystal raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Selena nodded, turning the wrench in her hand. “Because I find it hypocritical that you’re pointing out who can’t ‘step up’.”
“Excuse me?” Crystal scoffed. “I’m a 19-time world champion-“

“Who came into MY federation of Supreme Championship Wrestling and couldn’t win one title. Who ended up with one of the worst records of ANYONE coming into SCW.” Her eyes narrowed at Crystal. “Do you think I would have forgotten that?”

Clenching her jaw, Mustard held her hand up to point at Selena, showing the knife that PlumSauce had given her. “You…you don’t…”

“Besides!” Selena interrupted. “We’re forgetting one thing. Only one shot was fired but now there are two bodies!”

“So someone went for PlumSauce-“ reasoned Jessie. “And someone went for Mrs. Black?”

“Best way to eliminate competition, I suppose.” Zara shrugged her shoulders. “But who?”

“Well, it could be any of us.” Selena stated. “We all had motive. We all wanted what was in that safe.” She gestured to the safe that stood by the large desk on the other side of the room. “And I’ll wager many of us would have happily to bend a few rules to get it.”

“Not-“ Zara started but was silenced as Selena glared at her.

“You couldn’t get through to the Saucey 16, Zara. Remember?” Selena gestured to the fallen form of PlumSauce. “His own tournament and I finished 8th but you kept scraping at the bottom, trying to get in and hoping someone would just let you back in. You want to tell me you would not have taken a shortcut if it meant you didn’t have to deal with me?”

No answer came from Mrs. Peacock, earning a shake of Selena’s head. “I am guilty of contemplating a shortcut as well! This whole thing is part skill and part luck. We have to have our two targets leave the mansion one way or another. I’m not used to that. I’m used to my own skill. My own abilities. Earning on my own merit rather than depending on someone else being eliminated. It’s scary. But not as terrifying as this!” she gestured to the two bodies on the ground.

“Maybe it wasn’t one of us!” Zara tried, tossing her weapon (the rope) to the ground. “Maybe there’s someone else in the mansion!”

“But it was only the six of us that were invited by PlumSauce.” Jessie Green remarked, twisting the lead-pipe in her hands. “Who else could have come in here?”

“Who knows! Someone bitter that they weren’t invited?” Zara reasoned.

“Mrs. Peacock, what are you suggesting?” Selena asked.

“That we split up into pairs and search the mansion for anyone else who may be hiding!”

“Are you crazy?!” Jessie remarked. “If we split up into pairs, if one of us is the murderer, the other might get killed!”

“Then we will have discovered who the murderer is!” reasoned Zara.
“But the other half of the pair would be dead!” Brittani shot out.
“This is the ultimate battle, Scarlet!” Crystal shouted. “Casualties are inevitable! You cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs!”

Hearing all this, Jessie turned her head to see Selena standing there, eyeing PlumSauce’s body. “Mrs. White, are you willing to take such a risk?”

Selena released a sigh. “I rather not but what choice have we?”

Slowly, the group seemed to agree with the assessment. Time was of the essence. According to Mr. PlumSauce, the event would end at midnight and if there wasn’t a winner, then there would be NO reward given. And if they just stood around while a murderer was on the loose…

“But there are an odd number of us-“

“I’ll go with one of you…” came the voice of the raven-haired maid (the one that had met them all upon arrival) standing in the doorway. “I was listening.”
“So what if you’re-“ Jessie tried but was quickly cut off by Selena.
“We do NOT have time!”

With everyone leaving their ‘weapons’ inside a drawer, the six were then divided into pairs, with Crystal going with Zara, Brittani with Selena and Jessie with the maid, Portrica. The first pair moved down the stairs to search the cellar, the third to the attic, leaving Selena and Brittani to search the main floor.

Opening one of the doors and seeing nothing but darkness, Selena gazed into the space.

“What’s in there?” Brittani asked.
“Search me.”
“Alright.” Immediately, Mrs. Scarlet’s hands were all over Selena, searching her for any hidden weapons.
“Get your mitts off me.” Growled the woman, causing Brittani to drop her hands to her sides.

“Sorry.” She shrugged. “But… I am grateful to you standing up for me back there against Crystal. She was right…I am scared… I mean, I haven’t had a title in eleven years…”

Selena shrugged. “You don’t need a championship to deserve an opportunity like this. You’re beyond talented if PlumSauce picked you. Besides…” her hand searched the wall for a light switch. “I’m not a fan of Crystal. All the bragging and only a fraction of the talent that she boasts.”

“You said you dealt with her?”

“Dealt with? No.” Selena shook her head. “But she never got out of the low-card level in SCW. And that tournament I pegged Zara on? Crystal did even worse – she finished 26th.”

“Are you serious?”

Selena nodded. “I’ll wager because she was too busy looking at other places to get more titles for herself. She really is talented, but I think she needs to oversell in order to hide-”

Finding a light, Selena flicked it on to reveal a study. “Well, this is interesting.” She remarked, strolling in to see a series of golden tickets on the table. Picking one up, she showed it to Ms. Scarlet. “Look familiar?”

Brittani gave a nod, prompting Selena to continue her searching through some papers until the lights suddenly went out!

Screams filled the mansion as the building was plunged into darkness! The screams only intensified as the sound of a gunshot was heard! It persisted until Crystal spotted the fusebox in the cellar and pulled the lever up, reilluminating the household. Slowly, people pulled themselves from their hiding places. Of course, everyone was stunned into silence as they spied the body lying in the main lobby…

“Jessie Green?!” Crystal gasped, all eyes immediately locking on the maid. “So it was Portrica who-“

Her words died out as a second body was seen on the ground… that of Zara Peacock!

“Two murders?!” Selena remarked in shock.
“Four altogether.” Crystal concluded. “But I didn’t-“
“She was with you!” Brittani reasoned.
“Until the power went off!” came the reasoning. “Soon as they did, Zara screamed and ran up the stairs!”

A silence filled the room for a second, all eyes on the two new bodies.

“This is becoming serious…” Selena whispered before walking into the lounge. There, she spied the open drawer… and the missing gun and knife. Releasing a slow breath, she turned to the others. “Very well… I know who did it.”

“You do?!” the others remarked in surprise.

“I do.” Selena sighed. “Who else? Who was the first to place the blame? Who was the person that knew where the fusebox was to turn off the power in the first place? Who else would know that Zara ran off?” Selena turned, eyeing the one woman she was referring to. “Crystal Mustard!”

“That’s a lie!” Crystal vehemently denied.

“Is it?” Selena asked. “You were jealous that Zara and I were brought here because you hated how we beat you in the World Series of Wrestling. You hated me for outshining you as World Champion in SCW while you, a multi-time world champion, couldn’t get a foothold. You hated that it was MY name on the top lists every week, winning an AXTGRIFF while you were forgotten. So when the opportunity came up to STEAL another championship? You took it.”

“What do you mean, she took it?” Brittani asked.

“Come on.” Selena smiled. “Did you really believe Crystal would do this alone? If so, why not just go for you and I and be done with it?”

Brittani’s eyes widened at the implication. “I don’t…”

“You and I were Crystal’s targets. And we were both on the ground floor. Why not go for us when she had the chance?” Selena asked. “It’s because she was under orders.”

Reaching into her dress to reveal the piece of paper she had found in the PlumSauce’s office alongside the golden tickets, Selena showed it. “A list of eight women PlumSauce planned to invite here tonight.”

“EIGHT?!” Portrica, the maid, asked in shock. “There was only six-“

“Because two of the names were scratched out.” Selena pointed to one of the crossed-out names. “And that one? Was the reason Jessie was murdered. Because Jessie wasn’t the original Mrs. Green… No…” she turned to Porticia. “You were.”

With a speed indicating her greatest asset in wrestling, Selena grabbed the hair on Porticia’s head and pulled, effectively yanking the raven-haired wig off the maid to reveal the curly red locks underneath. “Molly Green”, Selena recognized with a smile.

“Been a long time, Selena.” Molly smiled.

“You were the one that turned the lights out first – easy since you weren’t in the lounge - and allowing Crystal to grab the gun from Brittani and fire it at PlumSauce and Mrs. Black. Then, after Crystal turned off the power, you snuck out of the attic, grabbed the knife and gun and stabbed Jessie while Crystal shot Zara.”

“But why them?” Brittani asked.

“Jealousy.” Selena shrugged. “That was the condition, wasn’t it, Molly? Remove the woman chosen to replace you – the original Green.”

“Sadly.” Molly shrugged. “I lost the chance at a title and my golden ticket. It… it ate away at me. But I couldn’t just get back in.”

“So you made a deal with the most desperate person here. Crystal.” Selena eyed her fellow SCW employee. “What did she promise you?”

The fascade dropped, Crystal smirked smugly, revealing the gun and pointing it at both Brittani and Selena. “I give her the golden ticket. She gets me the women’s title. Easy.”

“Easy…” Selena repeated with a sigh. “Quite the strategy.”

“Now what?” Brittani asked, looking around.

“I’ve got two people to eliminate and they’re standing right in front of me.” Crystal grinned.

“Hardly.” Selena scoffed. “You’ve backed yourself into a hole.”
“What are you talking about?” Crystal scoffed.

“Think about it. You eliminated Jessie and Zara. Meaning if you eliminate me, you’ll lose to Brittani. If you eliminate Brittani, then I will win before you can eliminate me.”

“Wha…No! That’s not right! You need to eliminate me so you wouldn’t win!”
“Even if you’re right, that still leaves Brittani!” Selena countered quickly. “Draw it out if you don’t believe me!”

“FINE!” Crystal spat, casting her gaze down at the floor. “There was two people and you needed me-“

Selena suddenly rushed forward, smashing her elbow against the distracted Crystal’s head before grabbing the gun. In a spin, she fired the gun at Molly’s chest. Before she could turn, however, Crystal threw her to the ground. Before she could retrieve the gun and fire, the knife suddenly flew into her forehead, sending Crystal falling to the floor.

“I can see why you didn’t like her.” Brittani said, offering her hand to Selena, who took it as the two stood up.

“Now what?” Brittani asked before the pair’s eyes settled on the safe in the lounge. “You…you think we could share?”

Staring at the safe, Selena turns her head to Brittani before giving another shrug and a smile. “My wife always did tell me ‘sharing is caring’.”

With a grin, the two walk towards the safe as the music plays and the shot fades to…

…

That’s how it COULD have ended… But how about this?

“Very well… I know who did it.” Mrs. White declared.

“You do?!”

“I do.” Selena sighed. “The only other person that was in the lounge with us.”
“Who?!”

“You may as well come out.” Selena called out towards the lounge. “No need to play dead.”

A moment passed before footsteps were heard, the person standing in the doorway with the gun pointed at Selena.

“Well done, Selena.” Mrs. Black grinned. “How did you figure it out?”

“I may not be the smartest person in wrestling.” Selena remarked. “But even I know when someone’s pulse is working. I was waiting to see what you would do.”

“What DID she do?!” Brittani asked, clearly confused.

“She was the one who grabbed the gun in the dark. After she shot, she collapsed and pretended to play dead! And in the dark, she managed to spy Jessie and Zara as the latter was coming up from the cellar and the former from the attic. She shot Jessie first and then stabbed Zara with the knife.”

“But why?!” Crystal demanded.

“For chaos, of course.” Vhodka Black grinned. “How do you think it made me feel? That a Snow Queen, a pushover 19x world champion of nothing, an over-makeupped brawler, and two more nobodies were all chosen to become the women’s champion over me? The highest-ranking woman wrestler in the world?”

“You were 2nd in the tournament.” Selena rationed. “And the idea of the 8th, 13th, or, dare I say, 26th would be chosen over you infuriated you.” Reaching into her pocket, Selena revealed the paper she had found in PlumSauce’s office. “Your name is one of the ones that was crossed out for consideration.”

“PlumSauce wanted this match to be a launching pad for lesser-known talent…”

“An opportunity of a lifetime...” Selena reasoned. “And one you believed belonged to you.”

“So… so what now?” Crystal asked, gulping a little.

“That’s easy. I finish the ritual.” Black laughed, firing shots at everyone, watching them fall to the ground. With a smirk, she strolled into the lounge. “After all… what good is this match… if no one can win it?” Shooting open the safe, Black retrieved the golden title belt, bringing it back into the lounge. “Foolish PlumSauce… didn’t realize the little sign I left in his precious match.

With a nefarious laugh, Mrs. Black leaves the mansion with the Women’s title… the star of the 5-star match showing its true purpose… forming a pentagram on the floor amidst the bodies of its competitors as the shot fades to black…

….

But here’s what REALLY happened!

“Very well… I know who did it.”

“You do?!” everyone remaining remarked in surprise.

“I do.” Selena sighed. “But we have to look at each murder one by one. Brittani…” her eyes narrowed. “No one tried to grab the gun from you in the dark. You fired it as soon as the lights were out. You said it yourself. You were beyond scared of failing here that, in a moment of panic and desperation, you tried to shoot one of us in the dark… and got PlumSauce instead.”

“I…” Brittani slowly nods her head. “Yes, it was an accident.”

“Then it was you all along!” Crystal declared. “You’re the murderer!”

“She’s A murderer.” Selena corrected. “Because during the confusion, Jessie was the one that killed Mrs. Black with the lead pipe!”

“Why?” Porticia asked.

“Because Mrs. Black was one of her targets! Why else?” Selena shrugged.
“Then what about Zara and Jessie?” Brittani asked, “Who killed them?”
“Easy! With Mrs. Black out of the way, Jessie merely had to get rid of Zara, so she suggested we split up! Something Crystal Mustard urged as well.”

“That’s right! She did!” Brittani agreed.

“And Zara ran out as soon as Crystal cut the power.” Selena explained. “Seeing the opportunity, however, Jessie tried to kill Zara but then Crystal came up the stairs and killed Jessie, believing it to be Brittani, with the discarded knife, fleeing as soon as she heard the gunshot.”

“So that means Brittani shot Zara!" Porticia reasoned.

“I didn’t do it!” Brittani declared.
“Well, there’s nobody else left!” Crystal challenged.

“But I didn’t do it!” Brittani tried. “Selena, please tell them it wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t you.” Selena replied before pulling out the gun from within her dress. “Because it was me.”

The group was stunned as Selena stood there, weapon in hand. “Selena…why?” Brittani started. “After everything you said-“

“Believe me, it was all true.” Selena smiled. “But unlike all of you, I wished to only play by the rules of the game. I respect this sport and what we are up against.”

“But what about-“ Brittani tried.
“You all thought Mrs. Black was dead, but why?” Selena asked. “None of you met her until this evening.”

Brittani’s eyes widened as Selena pulled at her white dress, yanking it off to reveal the long, formfitting ebony black dress underneath. “YOU’RE MRS. BLACK!”

Selena grinned.

“What the fuck?!” Crystal cursed. “Then who did Jessie kill?”
“A prospective coach and friend of PlumSauce.” Selena shrugged.
“Ah…shit.” Crystal huffed. “So you- why?“

“Because not one of you understood what this event truly meant. All you wanted-“ she eyed Crystal. “Was just another title.” She glared at Jessie’s body. “Or something to ‘show off’.” She cast a glance at Zara’s body. “Or vindication for a missed opportunity.” She turned her head to Brittani. “Or just to ‘break a titleless rut’.” She shook her head. “None of you understand what this means.”

She gestured to the safe in the lounge. “What’s in there? Is history. It’s magic. It’s the chance to make not just yourself but TIA incredible! Ever since I was in the World Series of Wrestling, I realized just how small my ‘world of wrestling’ truly was. Face it, even you, Crystal, barely thought of my name. I was a nobody – a big fish in a small pond. Most of you didn’t know me until WSOW, didn’t know anything about SCW.”

She returns her eyes to the group. “The chance to become the first-ever TIA women’s champion? Can you imagine the prestige of someone like me holding it? What that could do for me and for TIA and for SCW? It’s not about winning ‘another title’. It’s about making this new company of TIA on par with XWF! It’s about being more than ‘just a name’ on the card but instead having your face and all you represent in TIA and SCW displayed as a graphic in the main-event! It’s about being invited to every supercard and tournament cause everyone in the WORLD wants to fight you or see you! Wants to take what you have! It’s excitement! It’s opportunity! It’s integrity! It’s everything people like us should dream about!”

“Even kill for?” Brittani asked, earning a sigh from Selena.
“You would have done the same.” She answered before turning the gun on Crystal. “Now, Crystal, you have two choices. Stand there and face oblivion… or leave the mansion now like the-“

The Splash Network Champion was already running for the door. “I don’t need this shit! I’ve already got a title!” she yelled before slamming the door shut.

“And just like that…” Selena smiled. “There were two.” Turning to Brittani, Selena smiled before firing the gun…

Click.

“It’s empty…” Brittani gasped.

“Of course it was.” Selena smiled, tossing the gun away. “Like I said, I rather my competition be alive so we can fight again some day.”

“But what about…” a groan from Zara caught Brittani’s attention, Selena smiling knowingly.

“I merely knocked her out to save her.” Selena grinned. “It was dark enough to fool Crystal.”

“So…you’re going to…let us live?”

Selena smiled at Brittani before making her way to the safe and opening it to take out the title. “Of course. I want women like you and Zara to know what happened here.” Carefully, she puts the title over her shoulder. “I want women like you to come for me, Brittani. Why not? PlumSauce said it best. This whole night was about opportunity – and so was the prize. I plan to make that happen. And if I can have a night like this again, perhaps a little less ‘murdery’ but no less high-stakes, then I will be the happiest woman in the world.”

“So… where do we go from here?” Brittani asked.

“Truthfully? I’m not sure.” Selena smiles. “I couldn’t find an appropriate ending to this part…”

“I’ve got one!”

As the mansion door opens, in walks Deanna Frost – the director of this entire production. Carefully, she stands beside Selena. “Because within the realms of fiction and reality… there is one thing they both will have in common.”

She taps the title on Selena’s shoulder.

“Selena as the FIRST TIA Women’s Champion…”

With a grin, Selena turns her head to gaze at the camera. “Believe it… and roll the credits!”

The camera fades out as “Shake, Rattle, and Roll” by His Comets plays and the credits roll!]]>

Get a CLUE!

Written by: Selena Frost
Directed/Edited by: Deanna Frost
Based on the Game by Parker Bros
An ‘This is Awesome’ Production

The camera opens up to a dark, dreary mansion in the midst of the most sinister lightning and thunder storm! This is ‘Awesome’ mansion but judging from the eerie music playing as the opening credits roll, it is anything but! Especially as a loud scream fills the skies! A scream of terror! A scream of horror!

A scream of murder!

Immediately, the shot changes to a lounge where five people stand…and two lay on the ground. The five people are dressed in different suits/dresses of color. They are Ms. Brittani Scarlet, Ms. Jessie Green, Col. Crystal Mustard, Mrs. Zara Peacock, and Mrs. Selena White. In each of their hands is held a weapon of some sorts.

The scream, coming from Brittani Scarlet, seems to snap everyone to their senses.

“Stand back!” calls out Selena as she kneels towards the bodies, checking both before shaking her head. “Dead.”

Selena turns over the body of the man, that being Professor PlumSauce! His purple suit is a contrast to the white carpet, as is his ‘Feeling Saucey?’ shirt that he wears underneath. The other woman, dressed entirely in black is rolled over next: Mrs. Black. Her drink of vodka stains the floor.

“How?! And why?!” Jessie demands. “PlumSauce was the one who invited us-“ she desperately pulls out a golden ticket. “We all got invited to this invitational with the promise of a reward to the winner of a contest – why kill the host?!”

“Or one of the contestants?” Zara added, pointing to Mrs. Black.

“Well, it’s obvious!” Col. Crystal Mustard’s eyes narrowed towards Brittani and the gun by her feet. “We all heard the gunshot! Which of us was given the gun?”

“I didn’t do it!” Brittani urged. “Someone tried to grab the gun out of my hand in the dark and the gun went off!”

“You don’t expect anyone to believe that, do you?” laughed Crystal. “You’re the one with the biggest reason to do it! We all were given a weapon soon as we entered and told that the winner would be the person who could get her two ‘targets to leave’… one way or another. And let’s face it, Brittani- out of all of us, you’re the only one without a championship, aren’t you?”

Opening her mouth to protest, Brittani slowly closed it. It was true. Crystal, Zara, Jessie and Selena were all champions in their fields.

“You knew you were no match for all of us in experience and strategy, so you decided to eliminate the man and steal the belt, didn’t you?”
“No!” Brittani begged. “I wouldn’t! That’s not-“
“No one is buying it!” Crystal shouted over Brittani.

“I am!”

The voice came from behind as Selena White stepped over to stand in front of Brittani.

“Selena?” Crystal raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Selena nodded, turning the wrench in her hand. “Because I find it hypocritical that you’re pointing out who can’t ‘step up’.”
“Excuse me?” Crystal scoffed. “I’m a 19-time world champion-“

“Who came into MY federation of Supreme Championship Wrestling and couldn’t win one title. Who ended up with one of the worst records of ANYONE coming into SCW.” Her eyes narrowed at Crystal. “Do you think I would have forgotten that?”

Clenching her jaw, Mustard held her hand up to point at Selena, showing the knife that PlumSauce had given her. “You…you don’t…”

“Besides!” Selena interrupted. “We’re forgetting one thing. Only one shot was fired but now there are two bodies!”

“So someone went for PlumSauce-“ reasoned Jessie. “And someone went for Mrs. Black?”

“Best way to eliminate competition, I suppose.” Zara shrugged her shoulders. “But who?”

“Well, it could be any of us.” Selena stated. “We all had motive. We all wanted what was in that safe.” She gestured to the safe that stood by the large desk on the other side of the room. “And I’ll wager many of us would have happily to bend a few rules to get it.”

“Not-“ Zara started but was silenced as Selena glared at her.

“You couldn’t get through to the Saucey 16, Zara. Remember?” Selena gestured to the fallen form of PlumSauce. “His own tournament and I finished 8th but you kept scraping at the bottom, trying to get in and hoping someone would just let you back in. You want to tell me you would not have taken a shortcut if it meant you didn’t have to deal with me?”

No answer came from Mrs. Peacock, earning a shake of Selena’s head. “I am guilty of contemplating a shortcut as well! This whole thing is part skill and part luck. We have to have our two targets leave the mansion one way or another. I’m not used to that. I’m used to my own skill. My own abilities. Earning on my own merit rather than depending on someone else being eliminated. It’s scary. But not as terrifying as this!” she gestured to the two bodies on the ground.

“Maybe it wasn’t one of us!” Zara tried, tossing her weapon (the rope) to the ground. “Maybe there’s someone else in the mansion!”

“But it was only the six of us that were invited by PlumSauce.” Jessie Green remarked, twisting the lead-pipe in her hands. “Who else could have come in here?”

“Who knows! Someone bitter that they weren’t invited?” Zara reasoned.

“Mrs. Peacock, what are you suggesting?” Selena asked.

“That we split up into pairs and search the mansion for anyone else who may be hiding!”

“Are you crazy?!” Jessie remarked. “If we split up into pairs, if one of us is the murderer, the other might get killed!”

“Then we will have discovered who the murderer is!” reasoned Zara.
“But the other half of the pair would be dead!” Brittani shot out.
“This is the ultimate battle, Scarlet!” Crystal shouted. “Casualties are inevitable! You cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs!”

Hearing all this, Jessie turned her head to see Selena standing there, eyeing PlumSauce’s body. “Mrs. White, are you willing to take such a risk?”

Selena released a sigh. “I rather not but what choice have we?”

Slowly, the group seemed to agree with the assessment. Time was of the essence. According to Mr. PlumSauce, the event would end at midnight and if there wasn’t a winner, then there would be NO reward given. And if they just stood around while a murderer was on the loose…

“But there are an odd number of us-“

“I’ll go with one of you…” came the voice of the raven-haired maid (the one that had met them all upon arrival) standing in the doorway. “I was listening.”
“So what if you’re-“ Jessie tried but was quickly cut off by Selena.
“We do NOT have time!”

With everyone leaving their ‘weapons’ inside a drawer, the six were then divided into pairs, with Crystal going with Zara, Brittani with Selena and Jessie with the maid, Portrica. The first pair moved down the stairs to search the cellar, the third to the attic, leaving Selena and Brittani to search the main floor.

Opening one of the doors and seeing nothing but darkness, Selena gazed into the space.

“What’s in there?” Brittani asked.
“Search me.”
“Alright.” Immediately, Mrs. Scarlet’s hands were all over Selena, searching her for any hidden weapons.
“Get your mitts off me.” Growled the woman, causing Brittani to drop her hands to her sides.

“Sorry.” She shrugged. “But… I am grateful to you standing up for me back there against Crystal. She was right…I am scared… I mean, I haven’t had a title in eleven years…”

Selena shrugged. “You don’t need a championship to deserve an opportunity like this. You’re beyond talented if PlumSauce picked you. Besides…” her hand searched the wall for a light switch. “I’m not a fan of Crystal. All the bragging and only a fraction of the talent that she boasts.”

“You said you dealt with her?”

“Dealt with? No.” Selena shook her head. “But she never got out of the low-card level in SCW. And that tournament I pegged Zara on? Crystal did even worse – she finished 26th.”

“Are you serious?”

Selena nodded. “I’ll wager because she was too busy looking at other places to get more titles for herself. She really is talented, but I think she needs to oversell in order to hide-”

Finding a light, Selena flicked it on to reveal a study. “Well, this is interesting.” She remarked, strolling in to see a series of golden tickets on the table. Picking one up, she showed it to Ms. Scarlet. “Look familiar?”

Brittani gave a nod, prompting Selena to continue her searching through some papers until the lights suddenly went out!

Screams filled the mansion as the building was plunged into darkness! The screams only intensified as the sound of a gunshot was heard! It persisted until Crystal spotted the fusebox in the cellar and pulled the lever up, reilluminating the household. Slowly, people pulled themselves from their hiding places. Of course, everyone was stunned into silence as they spied the body lying in the main lobby…

“Jessie Green?!” Crystal gasped, all eyes immediately locking on the maid. “So it was Portrica who-“

Her words died out as a second body was seen on the ground… that of Zara Peacock!

“Two murders?!” Selena remarked in shock.
“Four altogether.” Crystal concluded. “But I didn’t-“
“She was with you!” Brittani reasoned.
“Until the power went off!” came the reasoning. “Soon as they did, Zara screamed and ran up the stairs!”

A silence filled the room for a second, all eyes on the two new bodies.

“This is becoming serious…” Selena whispered before walking into the lounge. There, she spied the open drawer… and the missing gun and knife. Releasing a slow breath, she turned to the others. “Very well… I know who did it.”

“You do?!” the others remarked in surprise.

“I do.” Selena sighed. “Who else? Who was the first to place the blame? Who was the person that knew where the fusebox was to turn off the power in the first place? Who else would know that Zara ran off?” Selena turned, eyeing the one woman she was referring to. “Crystal Mustard!”

“That’s a lie!” Crystal vehemently denied.

“Is it?” Selena asked. “You were jealous that Zara and I were brought here because you hated how we beat you in the World Series of Wrestling. You hated me for outshining you as World Champion in SCW while you, a multi-time world champion, couldn’t get a foothold. You hated that it was MY name on the top lists every week, winning an AXTGRIFF while you were forgotten. So when the opportunity came up to STEAL another championship? You took it.”

“What do you mean, she took it?” Brittani asked.

“Come on.” Selena smiled. “Did you really believe Crystal would do this alone? If so, why not just go for you and I and be done with it?”

Brittani’s eyes widened at the implication. “I don’t…”

“You and I were Crystal’s targets. And we were both on the ground floor. Why not go for us when she had the chance?” Selena asked. “It’s because she was under orders.”

Reaching into her dress to reveal the piece of paper she had found in the PlumSauce’s office alongside the golden tickets, Selena showed it. “A list of eight women PlumSauce planned to invite here tonight.”

“EIGHT?!” Portrica, the maid, asked in shock. “There was only six-“

“Because two of the names were scratched out.” Selena pointed to one of the crossed-out names. “And that one? Was the reason Jessie was murdered. Because Jessie wasn’t the original Mrs. Green… No…” she turned to Porticia. “You were.”

With a speed indicating her greatest asset in wrestling, Selena grabbed the hair on Porticia’s head and pulled, effectively yanking the raven-haired wig off the maid to reveal the curly red locks underneath. “Molly Green”, Selena recognized with a smile.

“Been a long time, Selena.” Molly smiled.

“You were the one that turned the lights out first – easy since you weren’t in the lounge - and allowing Crystal to grab the gun from Brittani and fire it at PlumSauce and Mrs. Black. Then, after Crystal turned off the power, you snuck out of the attic, grabbed the knife and gun and stabbed Jessie while Crystal shot Zara.”

“But why them?” Brittani asked.

“Jealousy.” Selena shrugged. “That was the condition, wasn’t it, Molly? Remove the woman chosen to replace you – the original Green.”

“Sadly.” Molly shrugged. “I lost the chance at a title and my golden ticket. It… it ate away at me. But I couldn’t just get back in.”

“So you made a deal with the most desperate person here. Crystal.” Selena eyed her fellow SCW employee. “What did she promise you?”

The fascade dropped, Crystal smirked smugly, revealing the gun and pointing it at both Brittani and Selena. “I give her the golden ticket. She gets me the women’s title. Easy.”

“Easy…” Selena repeated with a sigh. “Quite the strategy.”

“Now what?” Brittani asked, looking around.

“I’ve got two people to eliminate and they’re standing right in front of me.” Crystal grinned.

“Hardly.” Selena scoffed. “You’ve backed yourself into a hole.”
“What are you talking about?” Crystal scoffed.

“Think about it. You eliminated Jessie and Zara. Meaning if you eliminate me, you’ll lose to Brittani. If you eliminate Brittani, then I will win before you can eliminate me.”

“Wha…No! That’s not right! You need to eliminate me so you wouldn’t win!”
“Even if you’re right, that still leaves Brittani!” Selena countered quickly. “Draw it out if you don’t believe me!”

“FINE!” Crystal spat, casting her gaze down at the floor. “There was two people and you needed me-“

Selena suddenly rushed forward, smashing her elbow against the distracted Crystal’s head before grabbing the gun. In a spin, she fired the gun at Molly’s chest. Before she could turn, however, Crystal threw her to the ground. Before she could retrieve the gun and fire, the knife suddenly flew into her forehead, sending Crystal falling to the floor.

“I can see why you didn’t like her.” Brittani said, offering her hand to Selena, who took it as the two stood up.

“Now what?” Brittani asked before the pair’s eyes settled on the safe in the lounge. “You…you think we could share?”

Staring at the safe, Selena turns her head to Brittani before giving another shrug and a smile. “My wife always did tell me ‘sharing is caring’.”

With a grin, the two walk towards the safe as the music plays and the shot fades to…

…

That’s how it COULD have ended… But how about this?

“Very well… I know who did it.” Mrs. White declared.

“You do?!”

“I do.” Selena sighed. “The only other person that was in the lounge with us.”
“Who?!”

“You may as well come out.” Selena called out towards the lounge. “No need to play dead.”

A moment passed before footsteps were heard, the person standing in the doorway with the gun pointed at Selena.

“Well done, Selena.” Mrs. Black grinned. “How did you figure it out?”

“I may not be the smartest person in wrestling.” Selena remarked. “But even I know when someone’s pulse is working. I was waiting to see what you would do.”

“What DID she do?!” Brittani asked, clearly confused.

“She was the one who grabbed the gun in the dark. After she shot, she collapsed and pretended to play dead! And in the dark, she managed to spy Jessie and Zara as the latter was coming up from the cellar and the former from the attic. She shot Jessie first and then stabbed Zara with the knife.”

“But why?!” Crystal demanded.

“For chaos, of course.” Vhodka Black grinned. “How do you think it made me feel? That a Snow Queen, a pushover 19x world champion of nothing, an over-makeupped brawler, and two more nobodies were all chosen to become the women’s champion over me? The highest-ranking woman wrestler in the world?”

“You were 2nd in the tournament.” Selena rationed. “And the idea of the 8th, 13th, or, dare I say, 26th would be chosen over you infuriated you.” Reaching into her pocket, Selena revealed the paper she had found in PlumSauce’s office. “Your name is one of the ones that was crossed out for consideration.”

“PlumSauce wanted this match to be a launching pad for lesser-known talent…”

“An opportunity of a lifetime...” Selena reasoned. “And one you believed belonged to you.”

“So… so what now?” Crystal asked, gulping a little.

“That’s easy. I finish the ritual.” Black laughed, firing shots at everyone, watching them fall to the ground. With a smirk, she strolled into the lounge. “After all… what good is this match… if no one can win it?” Shooting open the safe, Black retrieved the golden title belt, bringing it back into the lounge. “Foolish PlumSauce… didn’t realize the little sign I left in his precious match.

With a nefarious laugh, Mrs. Black leaves the mansion with the Women’s title… the star of the 5-star match showing its true purpose… forming a pentagram on the floor amidst the bodies of its competitors as the shot fades to black…

….

But here’s what REALLY happened!

“Very well… I know who did it.”

“You do?!” everyone remaining remarked in surprise.

“I do.” Selena sighed. “But we have to look at each murder one by one. Brittani…” her eyes narrowed. “No one tried to grab the gun from you in the dark. You fired it as soon as the lights were out. You said it yourself. You were beyond scared of failing here that, in a moment of panic and desperation, you tried to shoot one of us in the dark… and got PlumSauce instead.”

“I…” Brittani slowly nods her head. “Yes, it was an accident.”

“Then it was you all along!” Crystal declared. “You’re the murderer!”

“She’s A murderer.” Selena corrected. “Because during the confusion, Jessie was the one that killed Mrs. Black with the lead pipe!”

“Why?” Porticia asked.

“Because Mrs. Black was one of her targets! Why else?” Selena shrugged.
“Then what about Zara and Jessie?” Brittani asked, “Who killed them?”
“Easy! With Mrs. Black out of the way, Jessie merely had to get rid of Zara, so she suggested we split up! Something Crystal Mustard urged as well.”

“That’s right! She did!” Brittani agreed.

“And Zara ran out as soon as Crystal cut the power.” Selena explained. “Seeing the opportunity, however, Jessie tried to kill Zara but then Crystal came up the stairs and killed Jessie, believing it to be Brittani, with the discarded knife, fleeing as soon as she heard the gunshot.”

“So that means Brittani shot Zara!" Porticia reasoned.

“I didn’t do it!” Brittani declared.
“Well, there’s nobody else left!” Crystal challenged.

“But I didn’t do it!” Brittani tried. “Selena, please tell them it wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t you.” Selena replied before pulling out the gun from within her dress. “Because it was me.”

The group was stunned as Selena stood there, weapon in hand. “Selena…why?” Brittani started. “After everything you said-“

“Believe me, it was all true.” Selena smiled. “But unlike all of you, I wished to only play by the rules of the game. I respect this sport and what we are up against.”

“But what about-“ Brittani tried.
“You all thought Mrs. Black was dead, but why?” Selena asked. “None of you met her until this evening.”

Brittani’s eyes widened as Selena pulled at her white dress, yanking it off to reveal the long, formfitting ebony black dress underneath. “YOU’RE MRS. BLACK!”

Selena grinned.

“What the fuck?!” Crystal cursed. “Then who did Jessie kill?”
“A prospective coach and friend of PlumSauce.” Selena shrugged.
“Ah…shit.” Crystal huffed. “So you- why?“

“Because not one of you understood what this event truly meant. All you wanted-“ she eyed Crystal. “Was just another title.” She glared at Jessie’s body. “Or something to ‘show off’.” She cast a glance at Zara’s body. “Or vindication for a missed opportunity.” She turned her head to Brittani. “Or just to ‘break a titleless rut’.” She shook her head. “None of you understand what this means.”

She gestured to the safe in the lounge. “What’s in there? Is history. It’s magic. It’s the chance to make not just yourself but TIA incredible! Ever since I was in the World Series of Wrestling, I realized just how small my ‘world of wrestling’ truly was. Face it, even you, Crystal, barely thought of my name. I was a nobody – a big fish in a small pond. Most of you didn’t know me until WSOW, didn’t know anything about SCW.”

She returns her eyes to the group. “The chance to become the first-ever TIA women’s champion? Can you imagine the prestige of someone like me holding it? What that could do for me and for TIA and for SCW? It’s not about winning ‘another title’. It’s about making this new company of TIA on par with XWF! It’s about being more than ‘just a name’ on the card but instead having your face and all you represent in TIA and SCW displayed as a graphic in the main-event! It’s about being invited to every supercard and tournament cause everyone in the WORLD wants to fight you or see you! Wants to take what you have! It’s excitement! It’s opportunity! It’s integrity! It’s everything people like us should dream about!”

“Even kill for?” Brittani asked, earning a sigh from Selena.
“You would have done the same.” She answered before turning the gun on Crystal. “Now, Crystal, you have two choices. Stand there and face oblivion… or leave the mansion now like the-“

The Splash Network Champion was already running for the door. “I don’t need this shit! I’ve already got a title!” she yelled before slamming the door shut.

“And just like that…” Selena smiled. “There were two.” Turning to Brittani, Selena smiled before firing the gun…

Click.

“It’s empty…” Brittani gasped.

“Of course it was.” Selena smiled, tossing the gun away. “Like I said, I rather my competition be alive so we can fight again some day.”

“But what about…” a groan from Zara caught Brittani’s attention, Selena smiling knowingly.

“I merely knocked her out to save her.” Selena grinned. “It was dark enough to fool Crystal.”

“So…you’re going to…let us live?”

Selena smiled at Brittani before making her way to the safe and opening it to take out the title. “Of course. I want women like you and Zara to know what happened here.” Carefully, she puts the title over her shoulder. “I want women like you to come for me, Brittani. Why not? PlumSauce said it best. This whole night was about opportunity – and so was the prize. I plan to make that happen. And if I can have a night like this again, perhaps a little less ‘murdery’ but no less high-stakes, then I will be the happiest woman in the world.”

“So… where do we go from here?” Brittani asked.

“Truthfully? I’m not sure.” Selena smiles. “I couldn’t find an appropriate ending to this part…”

“I’ve got one!”

As the mansion door opens, in walks Deanna Frost – the director of this entire production. Carefully, she stands beside Selena. “Because within the realms of fiction and reality… there is one thing they both will have in common.”

She taps the title on Selena’s shoulder.

“Selena as the FIRST TIA Women’s Champion…”

With a grin, Selena turns her head to gaze at the camera. “Believe it… and roll the credits!”

The camera fades out as “Shake, Rattle, and Roll” by His Comets plays and the credits roll!]]> <![CDATA[... The Deeper Meaning Of Being Golden ...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45737 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 20:21:30 -0800 Amber Ryan]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45737 “Comparatively, our private blunders are insignificant. Just part of the general pattern of human awfulness. We map our little disasters onto a beautiful picture of a great one, so that there’s continuity. So that there’s balance. We fail because we always fail. It’s not our fault. For evidence, see the paradise we lack.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Radiance

Amber’s Apartment
Atlantic City, NJ
16.01.2022
3:02am

Time felt different when illuminated in neon green.

Through bleary eyes, the digital display read 03:01 however Amber could have sworn in the faintly illuminated pitch black that it had been 02:47 more than an hour ago. Perhaps it was her refusal to acknowledge that she hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours consecutively in the past seven months, her sleep pattern working in shifts that she hadn’t managed to acclimatise to mostly for the fact that even her body couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Despite the chill of breeze drifting through the balcony doors- a sheen of sweat clung heavily to her freckled skin, gently illuminating the multitude of faded scars that peeked out from between tangled sheets.

Amber had always considered them like battle worn armour, driven proof of her dedication to an industry that didn’t have the capacity to reciprocate the way she felt. Everything she’d given to it, she only ever received back through violence and regret- the vicious words of those with a grandiose sense of self cutting only slightly less deep than the steel and the glass chosen for her as a conduit. Deathmatches weren’t pretty, but they were the way she’d broken into the industry- a recklessness fuelled by spite and a determination of having nothing to lose except opportunity led the red head down a path she had no hope of returning from.

Sweeping a mass of crimson away from the edges of her face, Amber gently tried to pull herself up to sitting with her right arm, the left hanging loosely as though extraneous to the process. It was the prime reason she’d been plagued by sleepless nights- the ever present dull ache that electrified every nerve from her shoulder to fingers if she moved just slightly in the wrong way, the angry puckered edges of the forming scar tracing around in the shape of a crowbars sharpened edge.
If nothing else it was a constant reminder of her hubris and how it had been determined to see her turned into antimatter, a lesson perhaps on white knights and why they never seemed to last very long…

Abigayle ‘Masque’ De Lune had been a dizzying problem created by Amber’s ultimate obsession with being World Champion seven years prior, her decision to prioritise her chance to become champion over the fate of someone she cared about had haunted her every day since- but only in the past year had the nightmare itself reemerged from whichever manhole cover had been left ajar.
Amber had created this problem, karma had seen fit to act through Masque in delivering her comeuppance accordingly…

Two wrongs might not have made a right, but be damned if it wasn’t worth trying if only to avoid making the same heartbreaking mistake again. Only this time, Amber found her actions being fuelled by regret and determination instead of desire and guilt- as though it would have changed the outcome in hindsight. Whether she had realised it or not, by this point in June 2022- the Painted Hurricane had become little more than a violent whirlwind on the end of someone else’s string, a force of nature puppeteered and projected as though little more than a weapon to be wielded until it broke irreparably.

Wiggling her fingers in an attempt to relieve stiffness built from deliberate inaction, Amber instinctively reached out beside her, finding only more cool, rumpled sheets. She knew Mac wouldn’t be there, most likely doing the same thing back in Vegas, she’d used the excuse of needing some time to clear her head- one which he accepted with the most knowing of expressions while still firmly disbelieving every word.

Truthfully it didn’t matter which way it was spun, five months was a damn long time to be out from an industry that fluctuated wildly in a space of hours. Landscapes changed with the frequency of titles, new names and faces forced themselves onto over-crowded scenes with the intent to be the ‘next big thing’ like it was a strangely foreign concept. Reputation had a shelf life, and no one was quite game to admit that it was shorter than everyone made out.
Five months might have been a long time, but if her surgeons were to be believed- it should have been much closer to seven or eight before she even gave a sideways glance towards a wrestling ring. Amber mused silently, imagining their looks of horror and disgust as she rolled for the first time, like some one armed bandit, after two and a half.

Mac, to his credit, had been stern with her at first, barely allowing her out of his sight for more than a few moments for fear she might try and be ‘independent’ (see: stubborn)… His willpower had lasted longer than either of them had anticipated, but eventually he relented to allowing her to do more than just muddle around with cabin fever whilst threatening to move the lounge room furniture for the fifth time in two weeks, cause the feng shui was still just a little off.
After a month and a half, carefully supervised, she was ‘allowed’ to return to Oblivion Garage and tinker- as though they both weren’t intimately aware she’d already been sneaking in a messing around with a particular nuisance engine block. After two, she’d been allowed to commence ‘rehab’ which only lasted a further month due to the physician losing their shit at her showing up without a sling and tape residue on her hands.

Now, almost eight months removed from the initial injury - Amber was World Bombshells Champion again. Improbable, certainly. Impossible, well it should have been.
A title, HER fucking title that she’d lost back in January after 357 terrifyingly dominant days of razing a division to the ground, in hopes of rebuilding it into a greater image- now sat on her formica countertop capturing the muted yellow glow of the streetlights stories below.
It shouldn’t have been though, realistically she shouldn’t have been cleared to wrestle- any practitioner worth their licence would have agreed- and they did. Any bargain worth making was one worth making with the devil himself, only this devil didn’t proudly display his horns and pointed tail, but cloaked his chaotic intentions beneath a well tailored suit and behind a wall of cleverly psychological vocabulary - Amber knew, with a hollowing pang of understanding, that she was only champion again because of Dr Gabriel Baal.

That stung a little more than she had anticipated, but momentarily put it down to the dry feeling in the back of her throat. Rolling her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she tried to let her eyes adjust to the neon city landscape faintly illuminating the window. It shouldn’t have been that surprising really that money and influence spoke louder than ethics- Amber had raced the clock to be cleared in time for an impossibly soon return match and had only been asked for VIP entrance to the brewing shitstorm in recompense.
Shifting uncomfortably, Amber’s feet touched down against the wooden floor with a grimace instinctively swallowed. It only really hurt when she breathed, and when she didn’t. Pulling herself upright, lithe musculature rippled casting shadows against the far wall as though the monster under the bed was emerging in search of misbehaving children.

Perhaps it wasn’t that far of a reaching thought, as soft footsteps padded across the floor. Amber had made her name as the unstoppable entity of SCW, the Baba Yaga of the Bombshells where many had learned to instinctively concede defeat upon seeing their names across from hers on any given card- it hadn’t become a matter of if, but when, for many favouring the idea of surviving as a greater achievement than winning.

Amber, for more than a year, had been the ferryman…

Until she'd now found herself face down and breathing deep in the River Styx.

******

“What does it take to be considered a game changer?

Maybe you’re the type that likes to consult a dictionary, skim a few pages and make everyone else around you feel grossly uncomfortable cause they all know you’re just looking for the pictures. See, it's defined as an event, an idea or perhaps a person that becomes a catalyst towards significant change in the status quo… Or maybe you’re more the pragmatic type who likes to make sure everyone knows you are absolutely looking for the pictures and will complain loudly to anyone listening that you had to, shock and horror, read for yourself. In that case a game changer might be considered a spark that ignites an otherwise still, stagnated landscape for better or worse.

That's the thing though, isn’t it Larry?
A game changer doesn’t necessarily seek betterment- they seek transformation and transition while the consequences might rightfully be damned.

Yet here you are, leader of the Game Changers and the most starkly traditionalist bullshit artist standing tall as a contradiction to his own concept. I mean, you built a kingdom on shifting sands and surround yourself with a small army of miscreants rebelling for the sake of rebellion against which ever cause is the shiniest- you went and found yourself a bunch of delinquent children firing pellet guns into trees in hopes of hitting something that will make a noise…

You went and turned a concept that was fundamentally important in the industry into yet another cliche oxymoronic stance.

Don’t get me wrong though, I respect your game. I respect the belief that accolades are a whole-hearted representation of the way you’ll be remembered once Death comes barging through the door at your most compromised moment, once again forgetting to wipe the bone dust off his shoes. I admire your determination to make everyone else understand your perspective- even if you’re continually showing your age by playing into the ‘get off my damn lawn’ archetype when referring to anyone younger than you by five years or more.

I respect your stance that wrestling and what you bring to the industry is supposed to mean something, not simply trying to impress the cute girl in makeup with your anecdotes or win over Vegas hookers cause losing still pays for a couple hours of love and eventual ringworm treatment.
Hell, I agree that being champion should stand for more than just being an overpaid mannequin claiming that they deserve something when really they stumbled into a puddle of success on someone else’s worst day.

… and that was just the sound of everyone in the vicinity being collectively sick in their mouths.

Don’t think for a second though, that my choice to agree is built off some attempt at flattery as though it's gonna save my precious little freckled ass once we step in the ring together. I have no such allusions that stroking your ego is going to do anything except give your left hand a brief respite. It's certainly no secret that you have a resume longer than the reasons why you think you are the bees knees and the cat's pyjamas but honestly I don’t have nearly the attention span to hear you repeat ‘I’m great’ over in every possible word vomit iteration you can manage. No, your reputation Larry far precedes you- mostly cause you’re the one with your foot planted on the proverbial throttle, the spokesperson of the Larry Tact fan club busy spewing propaganda as though you might Tinkerbell if not enough people are calling you an insufferable asshole.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hustle as much as I think it's over-wrought and totally worthless beyond the momentary dopamine rush… I mean we get it, you weren’t hugged enough as a child.

None of us were Larry, that's why we fucking do this.

What bothers me is that you care way too much, about how much others care… or don’t. You’re so determined to tell the universe exactly all the ways they can get fucked by using a title belt- and theres this small part of me that takes exception to such things.
While you aren’t the kind of usual stock standard bullshit artist I’m used to dealing with, she’s supposedly headlining night one under yet another fucking married name. I’m sure that's now fifteen different marriages and polyamorous excuses for extra-marital threesomes which the next flavour of the fucking month…

Oops, let’s ignore the unfortunate segue before Crystal thinks she can suck up enough of other peoples balls before she feels brave enough to come for me again. Like that's worked out the last few times…

No, you’re a different kinda bullshit Tact. You’re the type that's so determinedly believing his own hype that there's no room left on the bandwagon for anyone else, so worried someone might disagree with your points of view that you simply say it louder in hopes that they might just give up.
You’re so full of bluster that you’re powering your own hype train, just a shame that you’re the only passenger… Well, toot toot motherfucker cause this bad boy is about to go off the goddamn rails.

Theres no denying that you’ve earned your place- Level Up Power Champion isn’t anything to be scoffed at, I’ve watched enough tape to know that you’re the champion for more than just aesthetic purposes. You’ve busted your ass time and time again, you deserve that belt hanging around your waist Larry- and I won’t sit here and try to deny you that.

You’re the Power Champion, sure. However no good deed goes unpunished sweetheart- you created a standard for everyone else to set by your peers, you gate keep a division made up of every other asshole who thinks the splash of talent on their shoes after stumbling through puddle of accidental successes makes them worthy to carry ten pounds of your blood and guts.
That's the funny thing isn’t it, everyone thinks they can be champion if they simply try really hard, that they are bound for greatness cause they were good people who did as they were told and respected their peers… Everyone thinks they can handle it once they have the belt- it's not the ten pounds of leather and metal that drags your feet along the ground though, is it?

What is it you’ve had to leave behind, what had to suffer for your successes Larry?

You’re the champion, you’re the man who has had to sacrifice everything to keep it. Part of me sympathises cause I get it…I get it more than you wanna know. I’ve given more than my fair share for the belt I have on my shoulder- I’ve done things I should feel guilt in admitting and justified them with the number of days I earned to my name. I’ve done heinous things to remain champion, things I’m neither proud nor ashamed of cause I knew it would be worthwhile in the end.

All that effort, the heartache and the hunger… determination to be that guy everyone sees and thinks they understand, think they know cause there's fifty thousand others just like him…Determined to be memorable, to be special- just like everyone else.

What has it cost you though… really...

… and why will it never be enough?

******

Amber’s Apartment
Atlantic City, NJ
16.02.2023
6:14am

Atlantic City tried its hardest at sunrise.

Smattering the concrete and neon dotted landscape with an orange glow, the murky waters around the Boardwalk rippled in intrusive black waves between kisses of the dawning bloom. In a few hours, this would be a distant memory polluted by the multitude of tourists wielding camera phones and entitlement on their faces like a fucking disappointing nametag.
Three coffees down, with a fourth going cold at her side and a cigarette half-smouldered between her fingers that she’d yet to have taken a drag from, Amber lazily pulled her knees up a little closer to her chest as her heels rested on the plastic chairs edge. One arm had been missing for as long as she’d remembered and the glass tabletop faded from the sun and dustings of ash, she could have afforded to replace them both an age ago- however somehow their flaws made it feel more like home.

Las Vegas was home any other time, but it always felt suffocating. Expectation lingering like a swinging anvil simply for having been there, the connotations that came with it poisoning the soul. Atlantic City was her sanctuary, her escape from the rigours of the reality she’d built. A head of ash tumbled off the edge of the cigarette, falling in slow motion to the ashtray below, as the glint of gold caught her periphery.
That belt, that godforsaken addiction was her heart, her life. Her everything.

It wasn’t that Mac had ever meant any less- hell, the man had the patience of a fucking saint, and twice as much understanding. He’d been her rock as much as he’d been her enabler, a partner in crime when he wasn’t unexpectedly filling her entire apartment with roses for Valentines day…God, it had been weeks before she’d stopped finding wilted rose petals in the strangest places…
No, Mac had been a blessing that she’d never anticipated having. To say she was difficult to love was like saying that terminal brain cancer was a mild inconvenience to life, he had sacrificed almost as much just to keep her head above water while she’d been a consistent weight around his ankle.
They’d been married almost three years now, and each day she questioned whether that would finally be the one where he realised that he could do so much better.
One day he’d come to realise that he was worth more than a distant second best to the void in her chest.

Rummaging into her pocket for her phone, another wave of regret washed through her frayed nerves. It had been almost a month now since her first unanswered voicemail to Cassiopeia, the previous two hadn’t even rang before the familiar electronic cadence filled the silence in between held breaths.
Cassie had been a member of SCW Talent Relations, with a half smile Amber remembered how timid she was when they met, wearing a tea length floral dress and looking like she’d stepped off of a cottage magazine cover- she’d been assigned to ‘keep Amber out of trouble’ at least publically, and ended up being dragged through the collective crossfire.
It had been Cassie’s skin that Amber had gotten injured trying to save, the deja vu aching painfully down through her left arm. It had been Cassie that bore the brunt of Amber’s failures and Masque’s rapture, punished for caring way too much and being in the wrong place at the worst time- perhaps it was no wonder she wasn’t answering her phone.

Amber couldn’t blame the younger woman for being upset- she was never supposed to be this far involved. No one was. Too many had been dragged into the depths of this war- the dark leviathan shadows tangling everyone who seemed to drift into proximity, drowning them for a cause they had no stake in.
It was over though, the ten pounds of leather and gold were testament to that.

She’d been redeemed, returned to her rightful place atop the SCW mountain. Yet somehow this form of redemption was as satisfying as it was deceptively hollow.

For everything they’d done, for everyone they’d hurt. All the trajectories changed, the lives damaged and destroyed in search of what… sadistic revenge? A fairytale long reaching atonement arc where happily ever after never mentioned all the collateral damage just off screen. Out of sight, out of mind.
Like any good action movie, no one would remember the collapsed buildings or blood stains drying in the city gutters where a villain took their dramatic last breath- everyone would accept those things as though they’d always been like that, waiting for the inevitable next time cause stories didn’t end with the closing of a chapter.

Only that it was worth it.

That's what everyone told themselves, heroes gasping desperately for their next breath as blood bubbled through holes in their chest, that everything they had done could be justified because it meant something. Because it was worth something. That what they were fighting for was the right thing and everyone else would have to eventually agree or remain wrong.

How else could it be?

How else could they go about with heads held high and arms drenched in their accolades, determined that they were doing everything for the right reasons, cause those reasons were their own.

Planting the phone face down on the table beside her, Amber released the breath she’d been holding with as much restraint as she might manage - it was worth it, everything and everyone would understand one day that she had done what she had to do.
There wasn’t any other way, any other option. It had to be worth it… if only for her own sanity.

Besides, collateral damage no longer really mattered when you were the only one left standing.

******

“I’ve sacrificed everything for my World Title, Larry.

It's not some sardonic exaggeration to try and make this match seem more important- this Bombshells World Title means everything to me. Ask Mac, even he's come around to eventual understanding that he’s a distant second fiddle to this belt on my shoulder.

Does it make me a monster?

Probably.

I’ve been called worse by far better people, and better by far worse.

Of course there is a distinct difference between us Larry, one that I’m sure even you haven’t quite figured out yet- so allow me to spell this like we’re in elementary school kiddies…

I’ve sacrificed my life on more than one occasion for my belt, you’ve merely sacrificed what you were willing to, what was convenient and easy to cast aside. It's a pattern when it keeps on repeating Tact- and it's not exactly subtle anymore that your precious Power Title has become little more than a justification for all the ways you continue to fuck up.
Blame the title, being champion made me do it, right…

Just keep on digging in hopes that you might bury each mistake in the bones of the next one- you’ve become a facsimile champion drifted too far out to sea to swim back and too proud to admit that he’s drowning. Reacting like a junkie, jumping at shadows whilst looking for a hit, you’re yet to accept a very painful truth.

Being champion isn’t some bandaid for the irreparable damage you’ve caused, it's not just some gold tinted consolation prize for everyone who had to endure your excuses for why you couldn’t be a better person. Winning world titles doesn’t fix your marriage- believe me, I would like to think I’m the expert by now, even being married to the business doesn’t save the failings from breeding the kind of resentment that sticks between your ribs. It doesn’t alleviate the pressures of not being good enough nor smooth over the wrinkles of fundamental disagreement.
No, being a champion in this godforsaken industry is bound to leave every relationship in tattered ruins fluttering in the empty doorway they left open as they left to go to their parents. Again.

There is no having your cake and eating it too, it's having your cake and choking it down cause you told everyone you could.

You took everything you sacrificed to be champion and turned it into self-aggrandizing excuses, used your position as champion to justify why everyone thinks you’re a douchebag. Spoiler alert, it's not cause you’re misunderstood, it's because you’ve used your title to justify being an entitled douchebag, oddly enough enough. As a fundamentalist, you understand that the title only has the meaning bestowed upon it by the person who holds it…

Perhaps that's why it bothers me so much to see you using it as a mere scapegoat for your issues, an easy way out when anyone forces you to take some kind of accountability for your actions.
I may have done some heinous shit to become champion, and worse to stay it- but I’ve owned my shit Larry, I accept that my actions put me in this position and will continue to do so.
All you’ve come to own is the majority shares in your continued power trip.

I’ve made my title worth the sacrifices I made to get it and keep it. I’ve made it into a belt that people want cause it means something more than shutting me up for two minutes, before hoping I might simply implode on myself like a sentient blackhole.
I’ve made every sacrifice worth the days to my name, whereas you’re simply claiming to have done everything you can to bolster a failing standard whilst throwing every *disposable* relationship you might have under the fucking bus.
Everything I’ve done and will do, is to remain champion Larry.

Maybe for just a minute, you should stop using yours to mask the fact that you’ve failed everyone for absolutely nothing.

Are you regretting your choice yet Tact, or everything choice you’ve made till now?

I suppose you’ll next tell me that the World Series of Wrestling was just a further ploy to fill out dream matches on your bucket list in hopes of elevating yourself against those the industry actually has a stake in. Credit where credit is obviously due- you were a successful enough name to be a judge, but anyone with two brian cells to rub together can formulate a criticism to a half-hearted attempt to profuse on a stale prompt in front of an otherwise apathetic audience.
Must be terribly hard to judge wrestlers when all you allowed them to do was talk- you know, as though that's the gold standard for being a professional in our industry.

What was it about me that made you want to challenge me- the visceral obscenities that I sprinkle throughout my unforgiving prose, a little too realist and grounded for the head in the clouds hopeful nature of the series?
Perhaps my unwillingness to play to a camera for the sake of good television practices, sparring verbally against mirrors and deadpan expressions cause we couldn’t be trusted to run with sharpened tongues. Or maybe… you saw a target painted in a giant red bullseye and thought of an easy way to remind people that you weren’t just one of the ‘other’ champions in Level Up.

We’re predators by nature Tact, and I’d be remiss not to speak on the fact that I did the whole World Series of Wrestling whilst on the sidelines and I’d be a liar to try and admit that I’m even close to 100%. I’m not an idiot and can see opportunity as clearly as you do- unfortunately ‘easy’ isn’t written on my forehead nor does it appear anywhere in my nature. I’ve had better men dead to rights on worse days, I’ve left more blood on the canvas than I've left in my veins- I no longer fight from underneath cause the holes were getting a little too deep for most opponents' comfort.
I might be a lot of things, and very few of them are complimentary, but I won’t be someones ‘Golden Ticket’ back to the big lights and brighter times. I’m not some embellishment on your resume, a little glitter to distract from all the spaces where your recent achievements are supposed to go.

Before we meet on night three, I want you to consider something very carefully…

What is my name really worth to you Larry, and what does another high profile loss on your record do for your standing in this industry?

You need this- you need this more than the blood in your veins or the air choked up in your lungs. You need this win cause you’ve got so much to prove and so little time in the spotlight to do so, fifteen minutes is just a suggestion but for you I might be able to make five in my schedule…

You might need this, but truthfully

What do you think you really mean to me?”]]> “Comparatively, our private blunders are insignificant. Just part of the general pattern of human awfulness. We map our little disasters onto a beautiful picture of a great one, so that there’s continuity. So that there’s balance. We fail because we always fail. It’s not our fault. For evidence, see the paradise we lack.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Radiance

Amber’s Apartment
Atlantic City, NJ
16.01.2022
3:02am

Time felt different when illuminated in neon green.

Through bleary eyes, the digital display read 03:01 however Amber could have sworn in the faintly illuminated pitch black that it had been 02:47 more than an hour ago. Perhaps it was her refusal to acknowledge that she hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours consecutively in the past seven months, her sleep pattern working in shifts that she hadn’t managed to acclimatise to mostly for the fact that even her body couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Despite the chill of breeze drifting through the balcony doors- a sheen of sweat clung heavily to her freckled skin, gently illuminating the multitude of faded scars that peeked out from between tangled sheets.

Amber had always considered them like battle worn armour, driven proof of her dedication to an industry that didn’t have the capacity to reciprocate the way she felt. Everything she’d given to it, she only ever received back through violence and regret- the vicious words of those with a grandiose sense of self cutting only slightly less deep than the steel and the glass chosen for her as a conduit. Deathmatches weren’t pretty, but they were the way she’d broken into the industry- a recklessness fuelled by spite and a determination of having nothing to lose except opportunity led the red head down a path she had no hope of returning from.

Sweeping a mass of crimson away from the edges of her face, Amber gently tried to pull herself up to sitting with her right arm, the left hanging loosely as though extraneous to the process. It was the prime reason she’d been plagued by sleepless nights- the ever present dull ache that electrified every nerve from her shoulder to fingers if she moved just slightly in the wrong way, the angry puckered edges of the forming scar tracing around in the shape of a crowbars sharpened edge.
If nothing else it was a constant reminder of her hubris and how it had been determined to see her turned into antimatter, a lesson perhaps on white knights and why they never seemed to last very long…

Abigayle ‘Masque’ De Lune had been a dizzying problem created by Amber’s ultimate obsession with being World Champion seven years prior, her decision to prioritise her chance to become champion over the fate of someone she cared about had haunted her every day since- but only in the past year had the nightmare itself reemerged from whichever manhole cover had been left ajar.
Amber had created this problem, karma had seen fit to act through Masque in delivering her comeuppance accordingly…

Two wrongs might not have made a right, but be damned if it wasn’t worth trying if only to avoid making the same heartbreaking mistake again. Only this time, Amber found her actions being fuelled by regret and determination instead of desire and guilt- as though it would have changed the outcome in hindsight. Whether she had realised it or not, by this point in June 2022- the Painted Hurricane had become little more than a violent whirlwind on the end of someone else’s string, a force of nature puppeteered and projected as though little more than a weapon to be wielded until it broke irreparably.

Wiggling her fingers in an attempt to relieve stiffness built from deliberate inaction, Amber instinctively reached out beside her, finding only more cool, rumpled sheets. She knew Mac wouldn’t be there, most likely doing the same thing back in Vegas, she’d used the excuse of needing some time to clear her head- one which he accepted with the most knowing of expressions while still firmly disbelieving every word.

Truthfully it didn’t matter which way it was spun, five months was a damn long time to be out from an industry that fluctuated wildly in a space of hours. Landscapes changed with the frequency of titles, new names and faces forced themselves onto over-crowded scenes with the intent to be the ‘next big thing’ like it was a strangely foreign concept. Reputation had a shelf life, and no one was quite game to admit that it was shorter than everyone made out.
Five months might have been a long time, but if her surgeons were to be believed- it should have been much closer to seven or eight before she even gave a sideways glance towards a wrestling ring. Amber mused silently, imagining their looks of horror and disgust as she rolled for the first time, like some one armed bandit, after two and a half.

Mac, to his credit, had been stern with her at first, barely allowing her out of his sight for more than a few moments for fear she might try and be ‘independent’ (see: stubborn)… His willpower had lasted longer than either of them had anticipated, but eventually he relented to allowing her to do more than just muddle around with cabin fever whilst threatening to move the lounge room furniture for the fifth time in two weeks, cause the feng shui was still just a little off.
After a month and a half, carefully supervised, she was ‘allowed’ to return to Oblivion Garage and tinker- as though they both weren’t intimately aware she’d already been sneaking in a messing around with a particular nuisance engine block. After two, she’d been allowed to commence ‘rehab’ which only lasted a further month due to the physician losing their shit at her showing up without a sling and tape residue on her hands.

Now, almost eight months removed from the initial injury - Amber was World Bombshells Champion again. Improbable, certainly. Impossible, well it should have been.
A title, HER fucking title that she’d lost back in January after 357 terrifyingly dominant days of razing a division to the ground, in hopes of rebuilding it into a greater image- now sat on her formica countertop capturing the muted yellow glow of the streetlights stories below.
It shouldn’t have been though, realistically she shouldn’t have been cleared to wrestle- any practitioner worth their licence would have agreed- and they did. Any bargain worth making was one worth making with the devil himself, only this devil didn’t proudly display his horns and pointed tail, but cloaked his chaotic intentions beneath a well tailored suit and behind a wall of cleverly psychological vocabulary - Amber knew, with a hollowing pang of understanding, that she was only champion again because of Dr Gabriel Baal.

That stung a little more than she had anticipated, but momentarily put it down to the dry feeling in the back of her throat. Rolling her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she tried to let her eyes adjust to the neon city landscape faintly illuminating the window. It shouldn’t have been that surprising really that money and influence spoke louder than ethics- Amber had raced the clock to be cleared in time for an impossibly soon return match and had only been asked for VIP entrance to the brewing shitstorm in recompense.
Shifting uncomfortably, Amber’s feet touched down against the wooden floor with a grimace instinctively swallowed. It only really hurt when she breathed, and when she didn’t. Pulling herself upright, lithe musculature rippled casting shadows against the far wall as though the monster under the bed was emerging in search of misbehaving children.

Perhaps it wasn’t that far of a reaching thought, as soft footsteps padded across the floor. Amber had made her name as the unstoppable entity of SCW, the Baba Yaga of the Bombshells where many had learned to instinctively concede defeat upon seeing their names across from hers on any given card- it hadn’t become a matter of if, but when, for many favouring the idea of surviving as a greater achievement than winning.

Amber, for more than a year, had been the ferryman…

Until she'd now found herself face down and breathing deep in the River Styx.

******

“What does it take to be considered a game changer?

Maybe you’re the type that likes to consult a dictionary, skim a few pages and make everyone else around you feel grossly uncomfortable cause they all know you’re just looking for the pictures. See, it's defined as an event, an idea or perhaps a person that becomes a catalyst towards significant change in the status quo… Or maybe you’re more the pragmatic type who likes to make sure everyone knows you are absolutely looking for the pictures and will complain loudly to anyone listening that you had to, shock and horror, read for yourself. In that case a game changer might be considered a spark that ignites an otherwise still, stagnated landscape for better or worse.

That's the thing though, isn’t it Larry?
A game changer doesn’t necessarily seek betterment- they seek transformation and transition while the consequences might rightfully be damned.

Yet here you are, leader of the Game Changers and the most starkly traditionalist bullshit artist standing tall as a contradiction to his own concept. I mean, you built a kingdom on shifting sands and surround yourself with a small army of miscreants rebelling for the sake of rebellion against which ever cause is the shiniest- you went and found yourself a bunch of delinquent children firing pellet guns into trees in hopes of hitting something that will make a noise…

You went and turned a concept that was fundamentally important in the industry into yet another cliche oxymoronic stance.

Don’t get me wrong though, I respect your game. I respect the belief that accolades are a whole-hearted representation of the way you’ll be remembered once Death comes barging through the door at your most compromised moment, once again forgetting to wipe the bone dust off his shoes. I admire your determination to make everyone else understand your perspective- even if you’re continually showing your age by playing into the ‘get off my damn lawn’ archetype when referring to anyone younger than you by five years or more.

I respect your stance that wrestling and what you bring to the industry is supposed to mean something, not simply trying to impress the cute girl in makeup with your anecdotes or win over Vegas hookers cause losing still pays for a couple hours of love and eventual ringworm treatment.
Hell, I agree that being champion should stand for more than just being an overpaid mannequin claiming that they deserve something when really they stumbled into a puddle of success on someone else’s worst day.

… and that was just the sound of everyone in the vicinity being collectively sick in their mouths.

Don’t think for a second though, that my choice to agree is built off some attempt at flattery as though it's gonna save my precious little freckled ass once we step in the ring together. I have no such allusions that stroking your ego is going to do anything except give your left hand a brief respite. It's certainly no secret that you have a resume longer than the reasons why you think you are the bees knees and the cat's pyjamas but honestly I don’t have nearly the attention span to hear you repeat ‘I’m great’ over in every possible word vomit iteration you can manage. No, your reputation Larry far precedes you- mostly cause you’re the one with your foot planted on the proverbial throttle, the spokesperson of the Larry Tact fan club busy spewing propaganda as though you might Tinkerbell if not enough people are calling you an insufferable asshole.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hustle as much as I think it's over-wrought and totally worthless beyond the momentary dopamine rush… I mean we get it, you weren’t hugged enough as a child.

None of us were Larry, that's why we fucking do this.

What bothers me is that you care way too much, about how much others care… or don’t. You’re so determined to tell the universe exactly all the ways they can get fucked by using a title belt- and theres this small part of me that takes exception to such things.
While you aren’t the kind of usual stock standard bullshit artist I’m used to dealing with, she’s supposedly headlining night one under yet another fucking married name. I’m sure that's now fifteen different marriages and polyamorous excuses for extra-marital threesomes which the next flavour of the fucking month…

Oops, let’s ignore the unfortunate segue before Crystal thinks she can suck up enough of other peoples balls before she feels brave enough to come for me again. Like that's worked out the last few times…

No, you’re a different kinda bullshit Tact. You’re the type that's so determinedly believing his own hype that there's no room left on the bandwagon for anyone else, so worried someone might disagree with your points of view that you simply say it louder in hopes that they might just give up.
You’re so full of bluster that you’re powering your own hype train, just a shame that you’re the only passenger… Well, toot toot motherfucker cause this bad boy is about to go off the goddamn rails.

Theres no denying that you’ve earned your place- Level Up Power Champion isn’t anything to be scoffed at, I’ve watched enough tape to know that you’re the champion for more than just aesthetic purposes. You’ve busted your ass time and time again, you deserve that belt hanging around your waist Larry- and I won’t sit here and try to deny you that.

You’re the Power Champion, sure. However no good deed goes unpunished sweetheart- you created a standard for everyone else to set by your peers, you gate keep a division made up of every other asshole who thinks the splash of talent on their shoes after stumbling through puddle of accidental successes makes them worthy to carry ten pounds of your blood and guts.
That's the funny thing isn’t it, everyone thinks they can be champion if they simply try really hard, that they are bound for greatness cause they were good people who did as they were told and respected their peers… Everyone thinks they can handle it once they have the belt- it's not the ten pounds of leather and metal that drags your feet along the ground though, is it?

What is it you’ve had to leave behind, what had to suffer for your successes Larry?

You’re the champion, you’re the man who has had to sacrifice everything to keep it. Part of me sympathises cause I get it…I get it more than you wanna know. I’ve given more than my fair share for the belt I have on my shoulder- I’ve done things I should feel guilt in admitting and justified them with the number of days I earned to my name. I’ve done heinous things to remain champion, things I’m neither proud nor ashamed of cause I knew it would be worthwhile in the end.

All that effort, the heartache and the hunger… determination to be that guy everyone sees and thinks they understand, think they know cause there's fifty thousand others just like him…Determined to be memorable, to be special- just like everyone else.

What has it cost you though… really...

… and why will it never be enough?

******

Amber’s Apartment
Atlantic City, NJ
16.02.2023
6:14am

Atlantic City tried its hardest at sunrise.

Smattering the concrete and neon dotted landscape with an orange glow, the murky waters around the Boardwalk rippled in intrusive black waves between kisses of the dawning bloom. In a few hours, this would be a distant memory polluted by the multitude of tourists wielding camera phones and entitlement on their faces like a fucking disappointing nametag.
Three coffees down, with a fourth going cold at her side and a cigarette half-smouldered between her fingers that she’d yet to have taken a drag from, Amber lazily pulled her knees up a little closer to her chest as her heels rested on the plastic chairs edge. One arm had been missing for as long as she’d remembered and the glass tabletop faded from the sun and dustings of ash, she could have afforded to replace them both an age ago- however somehow their flaws made it feel more like home.

Las Vegas was home any other time, but it always felt suffocating. Expectation lingering like a swinging anvil simply for having been there, the connotations that came with it poisoning the soul. Atlantic City was her sanctuary, her escape from the rigours of the reality she’d built. A head of ash tumbled off the edge of the cigarette, falling in slow motion to the ashtray below, as the glint of gold caught her periphery.
That belt, that godforsaken addiction was her heart, her life. Her everything.

It wasn’t that Mac had ever meant any less- hell, the man had the patience of a fucking saint, and twice as much understanding. He’d been her rock as much as he’d been her enabler, a partner in crime when he wasn’t unexpectedly filling her entire apartment with roses for Valentines day…God, it had been weeks before she’d stopped finding wilted rose petals in the strangest places…
No, Mac had been a blessing that she’d never anticipated having. To say she was difficult to love was like saying that terminal brain cancer was a mild inconvenience to life, he had sacrificed almost as much just to keep her head above water while she’d been a consistent weight around his ankle.
They’d been married almost three years now, and each day she questioned whether that would finally be the one where he realised that he could do so much better.
One day he’d come to realise that he was worth more than a distant second best to the void in her chest.

Rummaging into her pocket for her phone, another wave of regret washed through her frayed nerves. It had been almost a month now since her first unanswered voicemail to Cassiopeia, the previous two hadn’t even rang before the familiar electronic cadence filled the silence in between held breaths.
Cassie had been a member of SCW Talent Relations, with a half smile Amber remembered how timid she was when they met, wearing a tea length floral dress and looking like she’d stepped off of a cottage magazine cover- she’d been assigned to ‘keep Amber out of trouble’ at least publically, and ended up being dragged through the collective crossfire.
It had been Cassie’s skin that Amber had gotten injured trying to save, the deja vu aching painfully down through her left arm. It had been Cassie that bore the brunt of Amber’s failures and Masque’s rapture, punished for caring way too much and being in the wrong place at the worst time- perhaps it was no wonder she wasn’t answering her phone.

Amber couldn’t blame the younger woman for being upset- she was never supposed to be this far involved. No one was. Too many had been dragged into the depths of this war- the dark leviathan shadows tangling everyone who seemed to drift into proximity, drowning them for a cause they had no stake in.
It was over though, the ten pounds of leather and gold were testament to that.

She’d been redeemed, returned to her rightful place atop the SCW mountain. Yet somehow this form of redemption was as satisfying as it was deceptively hollow.

For everything they’d done, for everyone they’d hurt. All the trajectories changed, the lives damaged and destroyed in search of what… sadistic revenge? A fairytale long reaching atonement arc where happily ever after never mentioned all the collateral damage just off screen. Out of sight, out of mind.
Like any good action movie, no one would remember the collapsed buildings or blood stains drying in the city gutters where a villain took their dramatic last breath- everyone would accept those things as though they’d always been like that, waiting for the inevitable next time cause stories didn’t end with the closing of a chapter.

Only that it was worth it.

That's what everyone told themselves, heroes gasping desperately for their next breath as blood bubbled through holes in their chest, that everything they had done could be justified because it meant something. Because it was worth something. That what they were fighting for was the right thing and everyone else would have to eventually agree or remain wrong.

How else could it be?

How else could they go about with heads held high and arms drenched in their accolades, determined that they were doing everything for the right reasons, cause those reasons were their own.

Planting the phone face down on the table beside her, Amber released the breath she’d been holding with as much restraint as she might manage - it was worth it, everything and everyone would understand one day that she had done what she had to do.
There wasn’t any other way, any other option. It had to be worth it… if only for her own sanity.

Besides, collateral damage no longer really mattered when you were the only one left standing.

******

“I’ve sacrificed everything for my World Title, Larry.

It's not some sardonic exaggeration to try and make this match seem more important- this Bombshells World Title means everything to me. Ask Mac, even he's come around to eventual understanding that he’s a distant second fiddle to this belt on my shoulder.

Does it make me a monster?

Probably.

I’ve been called worse by far better people, and better by far worse.

Of course there is a distinct difference between us Larry, one that I’m sure even you haven’t quite figured out yet- so allow me to spell this like we’re in elementary school kiddies…

I’ve sacrificed my life on more than one occasion for my belt, you’ve merely sacrificed what you were willing to, what was convenient and easy to cast aside. It's a pattern when it keeps on repeating Tact- and it's not exactly subtle anymore that your precious Power Title has become little more than a justification for all the ways you continue to fuck up.
Blame the title, being champion made me do it, right…

Just keep on digging in hopes that you might bury each mistake in the bones of the next one- you’ve become a facsimile champion drifted too far out to sea to swim back and too proud to admit that he’s drowning. Reacting like a junkie, jumping at shadows whilst looking for a hit, you’re yet to accept a very painful truth.

Being champion isn’t some bandaid for the irreparable damage you’ve caused, it's not just some gold tinted consolation prize for everyone who had to endure your excuses for why you couldn’t be a better person. Winning world titles doesn’t fix your marriage- believe me, I would like to think I’m the expert by now, even being married to the business doesn’t save the failings from breeding the kind of resentment that sticks between your ribs. It doesn’t alleviate the pressures of not being good enough nor smooth over the wrinkles of fundamental disagreement.
No, being a champion in this godforsaken industry is bound to leave every relationship in tattered ruins fluttering in the empty doorway they left open as they left to go to their parents. Again.

There is no having your cake and eating it too, it's having your cake and choking it down cause you told everyone you could.

You took everything you sacrificed to be champion and turned it into self-aggrandizing excuses, used your position as champion to justify why everyone thinks you’re a douchebag. Spoiler alert, it's not cause you’re misunderstood, it's because you’ve used your title to justify being an entitled douchebag, oddly enough enough. As a fundamentalist, you understand that the title only has the meaning bestowed upon it by the person who holds it…

Perhaps that's why it bothers me so much to see you using it as a mere scapegoat for your issues, an easy way out when anyone forces you to take some kind of accountability for your actions.
I may have done some heinous shit to become champion, and worse to stay it- but I’ve owned my shit Larry, I accept that my actions put me in this position and will continue to do so.
All you’ve come to own is the majority shares in your continued power trip.

I’ve made my title worth the sacrifices I made to get it and keep it. I’ve made it into a belt that people want cause it means something more than shutting me up for two minutes, before hoping I might simply implode on myself like a sentient blackhole.
I’ve made every sacrifice worth the days to my name, whereas you’re simply claiming to have done everything you can to bolster a failing standard whilst throwing every *disposable* relationship you might have under the fucking bus.
Everything I’ve done and will do, is to remain champion Larry.

Maybe for just a minute, you should stop using yours to mask the fact that you’ve failed everyone for absolutely nothing.

Are you regretting your choice yet Tact, or everything choice you’ve made till now?

I suppose you’ll next tell me that the World Series of Wrestling was just a further ploy to fill out dream matches on your bucket list in hopes of elevating yourself against those the industry actually has a stake in. Credit where credit is obviously due- you were a successful enough name to be a judge, but anyone with two brian cells to rub together can formulate a criticism to a half-hearted attempt to profuse on a stale prompt in front of an otherwise apathetic audience.
Must be terribly hard to judge wrestlers when all you allowed them to do was talk- you know, as though that's the gold standard for being a professional in our industry.

What was it about me that made you want to challenge me- the visceral obscenities that I sprinkle throughout my unforgiving prose, a little too realist and grounded for the head in the clouds hopeful nature of the series?
Perhaps my unwillingness to play to a camera for the sake of good television practices, sparring verbally against mirrors and deadpan expressions cause we couldn’t be trusted to run with sharpened tongues. Or maybe… you saw a target painted in a giant red bullseye and thought of an easy way to remind people that you weren’t just one of the ‘other’ champions in Level Up.

We’re predators by nature Tact, and I’d be remiss not to speak on the fact that I did the whole World Series of Wrestling whilst on the sidelines and I’d be a liar to try and admit that I’m even close to 100%. I’m not an idiot and can see opportunity as clearly as you do- unfortunately ‘easy’ isn’t written on my forehead nor does it appear anywhere in my nature. I’ve had better men dead to rights on worse days, I’ve left more blood on the canvas than I've left in my veins- I no longer fight from underneath cause the holes were getting a little too deep for most opponents' comfort.
I might be a lot of things, and very few of them are complimentary, but I won’t be someones ‘Golden Ticket’ back to the big lights and brighter times. I’m not some embellishment on your resume, a little glitter to distract from all the spaces where your recent achievements are supposed to go.

Before we meet on night three, I want you to consider something very carefully…

What is my name really worth to you Larry, and what does another high profile loss on your record do for your standing in this industry?

You need this- you need this more than the blood in your veins or the air choked up in your lungs. You need this win cause you’ve got so much to prove and so little time in the spotlight to do so, fifteen minutes is just a suggestion but for you I might be able to make five in my schedule…

You might need this, but truthfully

What do you think you really mean to me?”]]> <![CDATA[Stop the Wheel, I Want to Get Off]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45736 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 20:12:21 -0800 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45736 A casino floor.

Hundreds of slot machines, whirring and churning.

The constant cacophony of change trickling down jackpot spouts.

A mechanical choir of slots whirring…

Visions of cherries, sevens, and bars, dancing across a thousand screens.

The camera pans down a line-up of Las Vegas stereotypes.

An octogenarian in a pink tracksuit, chain-smoking with a Zip-Loc bag of quarters.

The drunken groom-to-be… now just dumping in money and giggling at the pretty lights.

The angry balding goblin-man in blue wrestling ti-.

…Wait a second, angry-goblin-with-male-pattern-baldness is NOT a Vegas stereotype!

…The little creature, with a wrinkled face covered in frown-lines, spins toward the camera and grins.

“TATIANA JOLEE!”

The seat of his little stool in front of the slot machine spins ‘round, as he hops off onto the Casino Floor.

“Enjoying the big city, Jojo?" Flynn smiles, fondly. “Cuz I looooooooooooooOOOOOOVE VEGAS!”

Flynn flares his nostrils, taking the deepest breath, soaking in as much of the Vegas air as possible…

…Unfortunately, at that moment, the grandma in the tracksuit blows a cloud of cigarette smoke straight into Flynn’s face…

His eyes widen… He chokes, hacks and gags… Punching himself in the chest to force-restart his lungs!

“...Pheeeew…" He hacks.

“Dig that… *cough* Refreshing… Air.." Flynn half-smiles. “THE NIGHTLIFE! THE EXCITEMENT!”

“The 24/7 access to seafood buffets!”

“And most importantly, the WRESTLING! This city has become where the BEST of the BEST come to lay their claim to the MOUNTAINTOP!"

“TO LEGEND STATUS!”

“TO GODHOOD ITSELF!”

“The ultimate test! Separating the above-average from the TRULY PHENOMENAL!”

Flynn looks proudly at the Uni belt across his shoulder… when, suddenly, his eyebrows lift.

He quickly runs his meaty palm around the metal plate on his shoulder…

A few seconds later, it’s so shiny and new, you can see the reflection of Flynn’s crooked smile in it.

…Flynn’s grin twists downward as he looks in his teeth. He lowers his jaw down and to the right.

“...Ah… Dammit." Flynn, like a prisoner using a nail file to cut through bars, takes a fingernail and rapidly saws the inside of his tooth.

There’s a… surprisingly loud popping sound. Like a fucking can of tennis balls. As Flynn fishes out a… small bone… from in-between his teeth.

Flynn bares his teeth at the belt as he discards the thing over his shoulder… Checking up, down, left and right…

…He smiles.

“Peeeeeeerfect.”

He spins back towards the camera.

“I want everything IMMACULATE for tonight, TJ. Because, this?”

“Is MY NIGHT.”

…Flynn grins, as his hands brush a few crumbs and specks off his chest, still trying to self-groom himself into a state of immaculate wonder.

“Now, if you haven’t been living under a rock, you know who I am…”

Flynn presses a hand to the side of his face, like he’s sharing a secret.

“Of course, let’s face it. Action Wrestling is about as close to ‘Under a Rock’ as the wrestling industry gets…”

Flynn shakes his head, smiling.

“Action Wrestling on Paramount Plus, huh? Must feel like quite an achievement when, like clockwork, on Monday nights, millions of P+ subscribers open the app, see your face on their front page…”

“And scroll past it to re-watch Yellowstone.”

Flynn cackles, as he runs his fingertips to try and straighten his wild, bushy eyebrows…

“STILL! In case you’re IGNORANT of the GLORY you currently have the privilege of BASKING IN…”

Flynn delivers another finger-gun.

“I’ll introduce myself…”

Flynn clears his throat, beating his chest, as if perfectly tuning his larynx.

He cups his hand around his mouth and does a little mock-trumpet toot, turning off to the side, doing his best impression of a Royal Footman.

Flynn unfurls an ancient scroll!

(Where’d that come from?)

“PRESENTIIIIIIING…”

“‘The Kiiiiiiiiiiiing of the Mid-Carders™’!”

“The Current, Reeeeeeeeeeigning… and Defendiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing… XWF UNIVERSAAAAAAAAAAAL Champion™!”

“THE MASTER OF REALITY™ HIMSELF!”

“THE TWENTY-TWENTY-TWO XWF STAR OF THE YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAR.”

“MARK… FUUUUUUUUCKING FLYNN!”

Flynn gestures up to an opulent staircase…

And standing at the peak of the stairs….

Is… Mark Flynn?!?

…Dressed in a purple robe, wearing a crown. Wielding a jewel-embossed scepter. A thousand paparazzi cameras flashing, like he’s king of the world.

The video camera does a double-take to where Flynn just was standing.

…He’s… gone?

“Hey, Camera-Guy?" Snap-snap.

The Cameraman flips back toward the stairs.

Where Flynn is now inches away from his face.

Flynn grabs the sides of the screen and pulls it closer until only his eye is in frame.

The eye winks.

“Try and keep up.”

Flynn cackles as he retreats to center frame.

“Am I glowing, Jojo? Am I fucking RADIANT?" Flynn is literally beaming. It’s sickening to watch how happy this little troll boy is.

“If so…" Flynn shoves a finger accusatorily down the camera barrel.

“I HAVE A DAMN GOOD REASON TO BE.”

Flynn is literally shaking with anticipation.

“Because this? THIS SHOW? This is a big one."

“Hell, this is THE BIG ONE."

“In terms of crossover shows? This is TOP OF THE FUCKING LINE, TATTERS!!”

“FUUUUUUCK Tara Fenix’s BULLSHIT CANOE.”

“SCUH-REEEEEEEEEEEW whatever BULLSHIT soap opera The SPLAT! Network is shilling this month with wrestler-slash-actor-slash-TALENTLESS HACKS…”

Flynn rubs his hands together so quickly, you can see a trail of smoke brew around the friction.

“THIS… Tati… is the DENZEL PORTER INVITATIONAL.”

“Where Legends are MAAAAAAADE, Lil’ Tatiana.”

Flynn taps his nose.

“Y’know, some might say my breakout year? My 2022…"

Flynn spins toward a side-camera… From off-frame, he lifts a golden statue.

“The year I won XWF Star of the Year." Flynn winks… As he sets the camera down back off-frame.

“Started at last year’s DPI…”

Flynn’s eye glimmers nostalgically, as he squeezes his fists in excitement.

“One year ago, I carried two UNTALENTED CHILDREN… Corey Smith and Thaddeus Duke… over Two World Series of Wrestling FINALISTS, Peter Vaughn and Xavier Lux… AND the #5 Ranked Wrestler in the World, Betsy Granger.”

“I Main-Evented Night ONE… And I was the star of the show, baby. The BREAKOUT TALENT. AT THE MOST INNOVATIVE, GROUND-BREAKING EVENT IN WRESTLING HISTORY… The talk of the night was… HOLY SHIT, MARK FLYNN, the career tag-team specialist in his 40s, LOOKS LIKE THE FUTURE OF WRESTLING.”

Flynn pounds a fist on his chest… Not aggressively, but like if he doesn’t contain himself, he’ll leap out of his own mortal frame and ascend to Valhalla right there, is how good he is.

“What came from that, TJ? Oh, nothing major… Just a spot in Chris Page’s CANNABIS CUP. Where I competed against 31 other wrestlers… From seven of the biggest feds in the wrestling industry.”

Flynn winks.

“I put MYSELF and MY COMPANY at the TOP of the industry, by beating FIVE other competitors in THREE NIGHTS.”

“I won the BIGGEST, MOST FAR-REACHING WRESTLING TOURNAMENT in the ENTIRE INDUSTRY.”

“THAT turned into a Universal Title Match at the BIGGEST SHOW on the XWF calendar, Main-Eventing RELENTLESS! I beat Raion Kido, the biggest breakout star in the industry at the time. I WON the TOP TITLE in the company that I had made the HIGHEST-PROFILE ACROSS THE GLOBE.”

“And what followed that, Tatiana? Culminated in an appearance at the Tara Fenix Charity Event… Where I (more-or-less) SINGLE-HANDEDLY took on FIVE.”

“FIIIIIIIIIIVE.”

“Of the biggest and best stars that Action Wrestling could scrape together.”

…

“(With a menagerie of capable CCPE signees, but mostly me…)”

“It was Team CCPE versus Team AW, captained by Action Wrestling’s biggest name… The G.o.A.T. of the blue-and-yellow brand, ‘DEATHMATCH’ COREY BLACK. The most famous World Heavyweight Championship in the history of Action Wrestling!”

…Flynn sneers menacingly.

“...And I pounded him like a cheap drum.”

“I pinned Regan Voorhees, the hottest Action Wrestling Star of 2022…”

“I made the current AW Champ, Jill Park, look like a second-rate GREENHORN, running CIRCLES around her in that ring…”

Saliva flecks off Flynn’s lips as he works himself into a frenzy! He points down the barrel of the camera, accusatorily.

“I HUMILIATED *YOUR* COMPANY IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE WRESTLING INDUSTRY… The officials had to throw me out of the match… That’s how badly it went, TJ. If I hadn’t been ILLEGALLY THROWN OUT, CCPE would have won with FOUR SURVIVORS…. And Action Wrestling would be FINANCIALLY INSOLVENT.”

“Because nobody… wants a MID-TIER wrestling promotion on their streaming service.”

“Not even a shit network like CBS.”

…

“Follow-up, in case you want to argue us winning was a fluke, Tay-Jo… That Team CCPE only beat Team AW was dumb luck.”

“The next crossover show I was on? Team CCPE beat…”

Flynn scratches his nose.

“Hang on, lemme make sure I get this right…”

Flynn reaches into his tights… Fishing out…

A notecard!

He lifts it to his face, adjusting a pair of reading glasses onto his nose…

“The WORLD…”

…

“The… ENTIRE WORLD…”

“Including, (once-again), Action Wrestling’s Corey Black.”

“Team CCPE nearly SWEPT the entire event. AND we took the main event in a one-sided CURB STOMP.”

…Flynn smiles, dropping the notecard and folding away his glasses.

“Why am I telling you all this, TJ?”

Flynn giggles insidiously.

“I want you to… fully comprehend… why I’M here.”

“Because it’ll help you understand… why YOU’RE here.”

“See, Denzel Porter… many, MANY months ago… gave me a gift.”

“Pick your opponent. Whoddya want? We’ll get ‘em.”

“You know what that tells me, Tati? That my opponent does… not… MATTER. Because *I* am the draw. I move the tickets. MY NAME SELLS THE PRODUCT™. And my opponent is the window-dressing. A prop by which I get to show off just how fuckin’ GOOOOOD I am.”

“And I told him to give me the best… the VERY FUCKIN’ BEST that Action Wrestling had to offer.”

“Cuz I’m gonna DEFINITIVELY BURY what LITTLE REMAINS of Action Wrestling’s reputation in the wrestling world…”

“And Denzel Porter, like a zookeeper dropping a pile of raw meat into the den of an APEX PREDATOR… Brought me you.”

“THE Reigning Action Wrestling WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!" Flynn rubs his hands together. “Finally! The XWF’s best and AW’s best MEET! And ONCE and FOR AL-”

Suddenly, Flynn’s face contorts. He snorts.

There’s… buzzing. Coming from… somewhere?

Flynn presses his fingertips to his ear like an on-the-scene investigative reporter.

“...Uh-huh… Uh-huh…”

…Flynn shakes his head.

“Ah. Tati, I’m getting word, that you’re… *throat-clear*... NOT… AW World Champion.”

…

“Well. Denzel clearly must have deemed you worthy to represent the best Action Wrestling has to offer!. And this shall be a vicious battle! Between the REIGNING XWF Universal Champion and a FORMER Action Wrestling World Heavyw-...”

…

Flynn pushes his fingers toward his ear again. The buzzing has resumed.

“...Wait… Really? She’s NEVER been world champion?”

…

“Well, what’s the second-best AW title?”

…

“U.S. Champ? Okay, she’s that, right?”

…

“Women’s Champ?”

…

“Television Champ?”

…

“Hardcore Champ?”

…

“Cruiserweight Champ?”

…

Flynn holds up a finger, smiling politely (as he’s capable of)... Before giving the camera his back.

“Then, what the FUCK is she?!?”

…

……

“...What is the PURITY championship?”

…

“It sounds like something Mormon wrestlers compete for.”

…

“Is the belt made of magic underwear?”

…

“...Okay. No, no… It’s… SOMEthing…”

…

Flynn revolves toward the camera.

“Okay! Finally, Action Wrestling will be COMPROMISED to a PERMANENT END! When I DECIMATE the REIGNING… PURITY CHAM-!”

The buzzing in his ear resumes.

Flynn pinches his fingers to his ear.

“WHAT IS IT NOW?!? YOU JUST TOLD ME SHE’S A PURITY CHAMPION.”

…

……

Flynn’s eyebrows raise.

“...Former?”

…

Flynn blushes.

“...I see. Tatiana Jolee is only the FORMER Purity champ…”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2023-02-18-at-12-11-08-PM.png]

Pictured Above: The AW front page could use an update…

…Flynn scratches his scalp.

“Hmm, must have been quite a feat beating MY DPI opponent.”

Flynn grins, psyching himself back up.

“Must have taken two… No, three! No, Five! No, TEN OPPONENTS! A legion, a hoard, a fucking PANTHEON of foes!”

Flynn shakes eagerly.

“I gotta see this! And since I’m the Master of Reality™…”

Flynn taps his nose.

“I can!”

Flynn snaps his fingers.

***

Jump-cut.

A wrestling ring. A packed crowd is screaming for the Purity Rules Championship match.

Sitting in the front row with a box of Junior Mints is… you guessed it, Mark Flynn.

He spins toward the camera.

“We’re here! February 13th! Earlier this week! Action Wrestling’s Monday Night Clash…”

Past Tatiana is in the center of the ring, she goes for a Russian Leg-Sweep on Alister McKissick!

Flynn cups his hands around his mouth (which is full of popcorn)! “WATCH OUT! He’s gonna grab the ropes!”

WHAM!

Allister, in fact, hangs on to the ropes and Tatiana eats shit, slamming her own back against the mat!

The crowd oohs in sympathy. Flynn grits his teeth, before side-eyeing the camera.

“Warned ya…" Flynn shrugs, as he pinched the straw of a 64 oz Cherry Coke cup into his lips.

Wham! Allister hits a rolling forearm on Tatiana! She’s reeling back into the ropes…

Holee rebounds…

Straight into a STORMBREAKER!

Billy (AW’s Play-by-Play announcer (no last name)): 8! 4! 3!

…Flynn scratches his head.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how those numbers go!”

The official counts as Allister pins Jolee!

The crowd chants “1!”

“2!”

“THREEEEEEEE!”

Flynn exhales, relieved.

“There we go. That sounds right.”

Allister McKissick pumps his fists triumphantly as the official hands him the Purity CBS Championship! Tati sits on the ground, pissed and frustrated.

Flynn scratches his chin curiously.

“Hmm! Well, Allister McKissick doesn’t sound like a gang of twenty people… In fact…"

Flynn lifts a pair of opera-glasses to his eyes…

“From here, he just looks like one mediocre mid-carder...”

…Flynn chews on his lip, trying to figure out what he’s missing here…

“Still! Must’ve been quite a battle! I bet you put on a fucking SHOW, Tati!”

Flynn grunts excitedly, as he flips his opera glasses back into his pocket!

“Why don’t we take a look for ourselves, shall we, Tati? Let’s see YOUR highlights of your title defense!”

Flynn snaps!

…Flynn’s smile vanishes.

…

“The fuck?”

Flynn looks at this hand.

“I said… Take me to TJ’s highlights from this match!”

Flynn snaps!

Another computer error sound… Does Flynn’s reality-warping power run on Windows?

…Flynn scratches his head.

Flynn points at this snapping hand with his opposite hand.

“Listen, you! I’m the MASTER of FUCKING REALITY! The champion of the UNIVERSE ITSELF! If it’s been on TV, I HAVE ACCESS TO IT! Now, TAKE. ME. THERE.”

Flynn snaps.

“...Please?”

Snap.

…

“...Er…" Flynn gets a bashful look as he side-eyes the camera.

“This… uh… this never happens to me.”

Flynn’s face reddens.

“Let’s… check the error logs…”

Flynn stretches his arms out in front of his face…

And separates them…

A blue screen appears before Flynn.

ERROR: Target Variable ‘TATIANA_JOLEE_HIGHLIGHT_CLIPS’ Not Found…

“...Odd…”

Flynn’s brow furrows in confusion and anger.

“Let’s get to the bottom of this!”

Flynn points up to the SkyBox above the arena.

The camera pans up… And who’s there?

***

Who else but Mark Flynn!?! Wearing a headset, sitting at Action Wrestling’s Command Center! At a desk with multiple monitors, each showing a different angle of the ring.

He flips a few switches on the board.

“Cut to Camera Two… Let’s get more footage of Tati looking like a talentless loser…”

The Action-Tron shows Tatiana dejectedly pouting, walking up the ramp.

“Put a graphic up.”

Below Tati’s face on-the-screen, we sees a rectangle pop up that reads ‘Former and Final Purity Champion’...

“Haha…" Flynn giggles. “Okay, enough rubbing salt in the emotional wound.”

…

“For now.”

Flynn spins a dial on the control center.

“Let’s rewiiiiiiiiind!!!”

The video rewinds… The belt flies out McKissick’s hands back to the official!

McKissick flies back into a pin on Jolee… Then back off!

The StormBreaker… in REVERSE!

“Aaaaaaaand here… we… g-”

A… BK advertisement starts?

The camera slowly pans away from the combo meal on the tray… as the Buger King jingle plays.

Suddenly, WHAM! A hand launches a backfist! The food goes flying off the tray!

“What the FUCK is happening right now?!?" Flynn seethes with rage. “Where the FUCK is the rest of this match…”

Flynn closes his eyes, weaving his hands in front of him, as he shifts and warps REALITY ITSELF to ascertain what’s going on…

…

His mouth opens…

His eyes widen.

“Oh… Oh God.”

Flynn spins toward the camera, a cold sweat brewing on his brow.

“Tati…”

“You didn’t *just* lose your Purity championship last week.”

“You lost it… During a MOSTLY-UNTELEVISED MATCH…”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2023-02-18-at-10-00-50-PM.png]

[Image: Screen-Shot-2023-02-18-at-10-00-50-PM.png]

Humiliating.

“Tatiana! In the digital age of streaming services, where you can get 24/7 Action Wrestling Content on Paramount Plus (Start your 7-day free trial today!)... The production team… Just… SKIPPED YOUR FUCKING MATCH?!?!”

…

“Jeeeeesus.”

…

“I gotta tell you, Tatiana. I’ve seen some truly FUCKED things in my career…”

…Flynn dry-swallows, shaking his head.

“Buuuuuuut, I’ve never seen a company decide that there was ZERO MONEY to be made, ZERO social media buzz to generate, and ZERO benefit to be had at all… after producing and filming 15 minutes of a CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH…”

…

“...Is that… uh… typical for you?”

Flynn scratches his head.

…When a smile breaks out across his face.

“Can’t be, right? No! This must be some idiot executive’s decision!”

“No, no… This was an off-week, Tati. You must be a fearsome competitor!”

Flynn’s face turns white!

“Oh shit! I got it! THIS was your first loss, right?”

“The company HAS to HIDE this match! People can’t find out the great Tatiana Jolee fell to some RANK AMATEUR…”

“That’s it! We’ll check your records! I bet you’re like 99-and-1!”

Flynn snaps.

***

Jump-Cut to…

…It looks like a library…

A massive multi-floor collection… Cascading bookcases, set like dominos all around…

WHOOOOSH! A ladder slides across the front of one…

Clack… Clack… Clack!

And who enters from the bottom of the frame?

“You guessed it! Mark Flynn.”

Flynn clambers to the top of the ladder…

He squints, peering left-to-right at the covers of these dusty, old tomes…

“Hmm…" His fingers curiously peruse slowly across the surface… Like he’s trying to dowse for whatever he’s looking for…

“Where is it… Wheeeeeere is it…”

…

“AHA!" Suddenly, Flynn’s eyes widen!

Flynn reaches… into his pocket?

And retrieves… A Binder!

“Wouldn’tcha know, it’s always in the last place you think to look.”

Across the front cover, in exquisitely emblazoned lettering:

TATIANA JOLEE’S ACTION WRESTLING RECORD!
(researched, compiled and bound by Mark Flynn)

Whooooooooosh! Flynn slides down the ladder, down to a reading desk where he slams the binder!

“This is it, Tatiana! I took HOURS out of my schedule…”

“(And started a Paramount-Plus 7-day free trial for research purposes)”

“And here it is! I collected, recorded, stratified, collated AND color-coded your entire Action Wrestling career, Tati!”

“Oooooh! I can’t wait any longer! It’s time to find out JUST HOW GOOD YOU ARE!!!!”

“Here we go… Name: Tatiana Jolee.”

“Action Wrestling Debut: November 5th, 2021- Versus Jayson Price!”

“Aaaaaaaand here we go! The REAL MEAT of the stats sheet!”

“Tatiana Jolee’s Career Win-Loss Record is…”

“24-23-1!”

…

Flynn…

…

Flynn’s smile slowly disappears off his face.

“24 wins… 23 losses… 1 draw.”

…

“A winning percentage of… 50%.”

…

Flynn pulls out a calculator…

“Pay-Per View Record… 5-8.”

“Title Match Record… 8-11.”

…

…Flynn’s eyes dart left-to-right…

Searching, parsing through the air for… Something just out of reach.

“...AH! OKAY!" Flynn squeezes his fists so hard his knuckles crack.

“Got it! GOT IT! GOT IT!”

“OBVIOUSLY, Tati… You’re a crossover show VIRTUOSO!”

“After all, Mark Flynn has a 9-0 record at Crossover shows! I’ve literally NEVER LOST A SINGLE ONE OF THESE!”

“THAT’S GOTTA BE DENZEL’S PLAN! THE CLASH OF THE TWO MASTERS OF CROSSOVER!”

Flynn rapidly, panickedly flips through the pages!

“Let’s go to your crossover show history, Tati! Let’s see just how good you are!”

…Flynn gets all the way to the last page!

At the top of the page, ‘TATIANA JOLEE’S CROSSOVER SHOW RECORD’!

Flynn beams and glances down…

…

……

………

A blank page.

…

……

“ZERO Chris Page crossover appearances.”

“ZERO DPI appearances.”

“And… ZERO Tara Fenix Charity bullshit appearances…”

…

“I’m fighting… A mid-carder…”

…

Flynn takes a deep breath.

And he clears his throat.

“...Would you… uh… excuse me for a moment?”

***

Jump-Cut…

To a payphone outside the casino.

Flynn finishes dropping a quarter into the slot and presses the phone up to his ear.

His back is to the camera…

Riiiiiiiiiing…

Riiiiiiiiing…

Riiiiiiiii-

*click*

The line goes dead.

…

Flynn exhales.

***

Cut back to the casino floor…

Flynn, the man who a few short minutes ago, looked like he was on top of the world.

Now sits at a slot machine.

He dejectedly pulls the lever.

The slots revolve…

They gradually slow…

To a cherry…

Cherry!!

…

Aww… And a lime.

LOSER! LOSER! LOSER!

Flynn exhales. Like someone just stole his parking spot.

“I hate Vegas.”

…Flynn takes a completely bog-standard breath. The kind you make when you check your phone and realize you’ve been at the DMV for three hours.

“Y’know the air isn’t even real here?”

“They allow smoking inside the casino, so you don’t have to step outside for a cig. So, they have an air filtration system, where they remove the inside air and artificially scent mechanically-generated air to smell like real air…”

Flynn side-eyes the camera, nodding toward the opaque black windows.

“They paint the windows black so you can’t see outside. Because if you could see outside, you’d know time was passing and think about leaving…”

“You could be here ten minutes…”

“Or ten hours…”

…Flynn’s fists tighten…

“Or Twenty-Five years…”

…

Flynn pulls the lever again…

Cherry!

Cherry!

…Lime.

LOSER! LOSER! LOSER!

Flynn exhales.

“Why the fuck do people do this to themselves?”

…Flynn squeezes his temples, staring daggers at the slot machine in front of him.

“There’s no strategy… No choice… No getting ahead…”

“You watch the wheel spin…”

“And let fate happen to you.”

Level-pull.

Cherry, cherry, lime.

LOSER! LOSER! LOSER!

ERROR: Target Variable ‘TATIANA_JOLEE_HIGHLIGHT_CLIPS’ Not Found…

TATIANA JOLEE’S ACTION WRESTLING RECORD!
(researched, compiled and bound by Mark Flynn)

“24-23-1!”

LOSER! LOSER! LOSER!

“It doesn’t matter how hard you work… How bad you want it… What you might deserve…”

“The wheel spins the same…”

“The house gets paid…”

“And I sit here. Staring in the middle…”

“With no road to the top…”

…

Flynn pulls the lever again…

…

And doesn’t release it.

“Well.”

“NOT.”

“ANY.”

“MORE.”

Flynn takes the lever in his hand!

AND YANKS THE MACHINE TO THE GROUND!

SMASH! GLASS SHATTERS IN ALL DIRECTIONS!

The machine, in its dying siren call, dumps its lifeblood onto the casino floor… A torrent of quarters!

Casino-goers dive onto the floor to scoop the coins into their hands…

While Flynn stares daggers down the camera.

“GREAT FUCKING NEWS, TATI!”

“It doesn’t matter how LACKLUSTER you are.”

“It doesn’t matter that you’re a MEDIOCRE NOTHING, who doesn’t deserve to share a LOCKER ROOM with me, let alone a RING.”

“Because this story isn’t Flynn versus Action Wrestling… Not tonight.”

“This is Mark Flynn versus an industry that continues to ignore his ASCENT TO THE MOUNTAINTOP!”

“HIS STEPS TO GODHOOD!”

“HIS JOURNEY ONTO THE OPTIMAL PATH™.”

“I’m the artist, about to paint a mural of violence so profound and profane, that the critics will be INCAPABLE of IGNORING my RIGHTFUL PLACE…”

“And you’re my canvas, Tati.”

“I don’t give a shit if we’re on in the middle of Night 3, because you and I are putting on a fucking show that could end the night, end the weekend, end the sport, end YOUR FUCKING LIFE!”

“They’re going to CHISEL A YOUTUBE LINK to this match on your FUCKING TOMBSTONE, TATI, because it’ll be the MOST FAMOUS THING you were EVER REMOTELY RELATED TO.”

…

“Because this match… Will be the match. That Mark Flynn proved, once and for all, he was above the midcard.”

“And he did it by taking Tatiana Jolee, the midcardiest midcard… A literal 50/50 wrestler.”

“Taking her by the arms.”

“And ripping her in half.”

…

Flynn grins.

“Try having two lesser fucks follow THAT, Porter.”
]]> <![CDATA[All of Nothing]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45734 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 19:26:00 -0800 Crystal]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45734 Los Angeles, California

Crystal Zdunich was quite the celebrity. Not only was she a big time actress, cosplayer, and video game girl but she was also one of the best women wrestlers in the entire world. Despite being fired in her main company of Sin City Wrestling after suffering a very brutal beat down at the hands of Bella Madison. Crystal had successfully entered and won an invitational match which crowned her as the brand new SCW Bombshell Roulette Champion. Add that accomplishment along with the Splat Multiverse and the ECWF World Women’s Championships that she held and Crystal was a champion of three different companies. A wide grin escapes her lips as she stood side by side her wife Seleana Zdunich. Crystal had been invited to a comic convention where she was booked to do photo and autograph ops with the public. The nerd within her however was focused on being an attendee though as she wore her best Poison Ivy cosplay, and her wife was dressed like Harley Quinn. Crystal’s eyes open up as she sees a Square Enix booth in the distance.

“Oh Seleana it’s the Square Enix booth, I wonder if we could go try out the latest Final Fantasy there?!”

Seleana smirks as she nods her head in agreement.

“I don’t know chickie but why don’t we go take a look…”

As the two of them make their way over to the booth that is when they are immediately bombarded by a bunch of fans. It felt no different than being on the streets of Hollywood Hills where her paparazzi following consistently tried to get into her face and ask her various questions. Each fan shoved markers in her direction as they tried to get her to sign anything and everything.

“Crystal can you sign this for me?!”

“Mrs. Zdunich can you autograph my replica Splat Championship?!”

“Can you take a photo with me, you are my favorite wrestler…”

It just seemed as she was pulled in so many different directions. Seleana however just chuckles as she looks at her wife and smiles at her.

“You are super popular. I can’t believe how many people want to meet you. You have been amazing lately. I can’t believe that you have three championships Crystal…”

Walking a day in Crystal’s shoes was never meant to be easy. She just smiles as she tries to figure out who to answer first but then that is when she is confronted by somebody holding a microphone.

“Hi Mrs. Zdunich do you mind if we can get a word with you, we represent daily women’s wrestling radio and your name has come up a lot has being one of the very best in the world as of lately. In the last Quag Cup you have had a top four finish. In the World Series of Wrestling you were part of the top 26. You just became Splat Champion, you have been held your ECWF Women’s World Championship for a while and have officially been named as one of the official participants in the inaugural TIA World Women’s Championship match. How does it feel to receive such an honor and knowing that you will be competing at the Denzel Porter Invitational. There is a chance that if you are still Splat Champion you will be wrestling in two matches during that event…”

Crystal’s eyes light up as she nods her head in agreement. She looks at the roaring crowd as she gives them a smile. She raises two of her championships high into the air as she replies back.

“First and foremost can I just say that it feels really great to be here today and to interact with all of these amazing fans?! To be honest I feel very excited that I was chosen to compete for the TIA Women’s Championship. I love everything that TIA has to offer and as amazing as it was having a top 26 finish in the World Series of Wrestling there is a part of me that knows I could have been so much better. I feel honored that I can compete on Denzel Porter’s show because he is one of the best that does what he does…”

Crystal nods her head as she speaks some more.

“He is always up to date with his information and I had meant to sign up for his event. However you know how the business can be sometimes. We get caught up in what is happening in our home feds that we lose sight from what’s happening all across the wrestling community. Even though I didn’t get the chance to sign up I can personally guarantee you that I will in fact compete in two separate matches. I will be Splat Champion and I will walk away with the TIA Women’s Championship as well. I have always been a woman that has been stretched across companies but it has never been a problem. I am quite successful and I do well at the things that I do. Next month I will walk out with a fourth championship and that’s something I guarantee. Who knows I might do a special cosplay for that occasion. I do believe these fans deserve that much…”

The reporter nods his head as he looks deeper into Crystal’s eyes.

“Good and I know we cannot wait to see what you will do in the ring.”

Crystal nods her head as she offers a wave.

“And I can’t wait to entertain all of you. This is what I live for and it is what I breathe for. It’s everything or nothing at all. You can rest assured that at the DPI every fan will get their money’s worth from me. I will tear the house down and more importantly I will become the brand spanking new TIA Champion…”

The reporter smirks.

“Thank you so much for this brief interview… We wish you the best of luck…”

With that other people try their best to get closer to Crystal. The blue haired vixen is quick to escape with her wife as they decide to head in the direction of their autograph booth. They finally make it to their destination and when more fans try to surround them that is when security does everything in their power to protect them. Crystal smiles as she looks right into the eyes of her wife.

“It feels really good being popular and even feels better being a champion. Just imagine how much people will swoon over me when I win the TIA World Women’s Champion?!”

Seleana and her wife begin to laugh at one another as Crystal turns her attention over to the mob of fans waiting to meet her. She adjusts all of her championships as she begins to do photo ops with each and every single one of them. It is on this image that we fade out on.

Promo

The cameras are in focus as we are able to see Crystal Zdunich in the heart of Las Vegas, Nevada. A smile escapes her lips as she stands in front of Sin City Wrestling headquarters. Photographers are quick to snap photos of the beauty as she twirls around for the world to see. She is wearing her three championships, (Splat, SCW Roulette, and ECWF World Women's) all over her body. She runs her hands through her blue hair as she looks right into the lens.

“Good evening to all of my blossoming roses out there. Of course you know me… After all I was a co-star on the WIFE which could be seen on Splat, I hold three championships, I am the star of the Detroit Rampage, and star QB of the Brooklyn Brawlers. I am a household name and even if you have trouble trying to say my surname of Zdunich I am sure you know me by the thousands of other names that I have gone by. Crystalina, Christina, Rose, Hilton, Williams, Caldwell, Zdunich… Damn the list really doesn’t end but honestly does it matter?! As far as I am concerned by the end of DPI there is only going be one thing that the entire world should be calling me and that is CHAMPION… I plan to do everything in my power to walk away as the first ever TIA World Women’s Champion and I doubt there is anything that anybody can do to stop it…

I am not discounting or even overlooking the four other women that are going to be participating in this colors elimination match with me. Each of them are talented in their own unique way. They all were chosen because they are special to the world of women’s wrestling but I didn’t come here to get caught up in the hype of everybody else. I came here to showcase how great I am and why I am the only one fitting of walking away as a champion.

This match at DPI is going to be one to be remembered. The rules are very simple. In order to become the champion your opposing two colors need to be eliminated first. Once those targets are gone you could be crown champion. That sounds easy enough but where things get really weird is that the colors that aren’t opposing me are supposed to be allies of some type. Those allies could very well lead to a person earning a victory but in the same token they could also be your downfall. After all it may get hard to keep track of everything when we get into the trenches of the match.

Before I go any further let me make one thing clear. To women such as Brittani Helms and Selena Frost who are looking to become the champion that isn’t going to happen. Not because I doubt their ability or anything but more so on the fact that I believe in my own talents and ability. I am not going to allow myself to be eliminated so that takes the two of them right out of the equation of women that could possibly win this match, and it brings us to three women that really can win it. Myself, Zara and Jessie Lee…”

Crystal offers a chuckle as she takes a long deep breath and begins to speak again.

“So the question of the day is why am I so confident?! What makes me think that I have what it takes to just waltz into the MGM Grand Arena and walk away as a champion?! It’s common sense in all honesty. My home company is Sin City Wrestling. I wrestle in a company that is based on being in Las Vegas and my secondary company is Uprising which is right in Reno. This whole Nevada life is the only thing that I have known consistently for the past eight years. Year I might have gone through twenty million name changes and I may compete in a lot of places, but these two companies have been where I have consistently been at. Nobody knows Vegas as much as I do and as a member of the SCW roster I have become their only five time World Champion and a member of their Hall of Fame.

If I manage to do that for SCW what is to stop me from continuing on with business as usual and winning yet another World Championship in Vegas?! I have been unstoppable for the past eight months or so. I have won two different World Championships and I just keep winning.

I have won match after match and I am not showing any signs of slowing down. Hell compared to everybody else who else can say that have been doing what I have been doing for as long as I have been doing it?! I have turned 35 years old this past November and I can say I have been a pro for 17 years of my life. I am a second generation wrestler, and my beginnings all started in some rundown gym in Mexico City training under my father Pedro Lopez. I took what he taught me and I came to America with a purpose. I used everything I learned and it has translated to over 21 World Championships. Those are stats that are definitely amazing if I say so myself.

Who can say they have that drive and dedication coursing through their veins?! I know Selena Frost who I said won’t be winning this match earlier but it would be foolish to discredit what she has done. She has seen me competing in Supreme Championship Wrestling where I haven’t had the best of luck. However in that SCW she has prided herself on being the face of the company with the longest World Championship reign a multitude of championships that she has won along with being a four time World Champion. She is truly one of the best of the best.

I know I will have my work cut out for me but I am not afraid. She has to come to the city I constantly compete at to showcase she wants this as much as I do. I doubt she is as passionate about this like I am. It is my heart that is full of adrenaline that will fuel me to victory. Any other day Seleana may have had my number but at the DPI this Burning Rose is going to melt the Snow Queen. She won’t be able to stop the flames that have been fanned to see me successful. I will rise above her and claim what is mine…

Any other day you may have had my number Seleana but not on this night… I promise you that…”

Crystal claps her hands as she chuckles.

“And of course there is that other color that is opposite of me and it is represented by Brittani Helms. If I can be honest Brittani comes from the world of 5BW and I really don’t know about what goes on in the confines of that company. So I can’t comment one way or another. What I can say though is that is everybody from 5BW likes to talk at the mouth and they just like to be all up in my business. Obviously I am defending my Splat Championship against Hayley so she wants to run her mouth, which of course caused Sam Tolson to chime in, and I bet Brittani is going to say some stupid shit.

It really doesn’t matter what you say about me because I know there is tons of material on me. I been in this business for a very long time. My name has worth and I am honored if you know me. I rather be known and relevant instead of being just there. Brittani you are going to be in for a world of serious pain. I don’t say this often I am going to fuck you up simply for being associated to people that I really don’t care about. Just try not to get blinded by my spotlight too much. I don’t want you to crumble under the limelight of watching a true superstar go into action.

Besides based from what I see, it’s pure street trash. Vegas is a little ways off from the East Coast sweetie. Stick to wrestling in your little bubble because branching out isn’t your strength, and I will make sure to that when I step into the ring with you…”

Crystal finally forms another grin as she begins to speak some more.

“Now that we got that out of the way let’s talk about the two women who also happen to be in this match as well, they aren’t really my opponent but I still have to make sure that they don’t end up winning the match as well. One woman is one that I know very well. Zara Ivory and I happen to be part of the same company. As a matter of fact it was at one point where we were both competing for Zion to be a last added edition to the World Series of Wrestling. I was all about trying to do everything in my power to earn my keep but I was informed because of the name that I had in the business and from my participation in different events that I didn’t have to earn my way into the WSOW.

So I was allowed to get a pass to go right into the mix. Zara Ivory didn’t have that luxury and she managed to earn her chance to get into the event. I respect the hell out of Ivory because she always seems to bust her ass to get what she wants. I know she is going to be one of the biggest threats in this match because I get to see her every single week during her reign as the Gateway Champion. She is elevating the championship and is using it to really bring her career to new heights. It doesn’t stop there. Zara is a woman that has given everything of herself to be the best wrestler she possibly can be.

She is a member of the ever growing Queens of Wrestling and has made it her habit to be part of a wrestling sorority that emphasizes domination of getting what one wants out of wrestling. I know I had my run in with the leader of her group in Jessi Osborne. It was a tough match for me but I have beaten her. So if I can beat Jessi, I know for a fact that I can go out there and beat Zara.

As I look at Zara, I can’t help but look at Selena Frost, and before she had to drop out of this match Molly Hatchet. I have come to the realization that all of them had placed a lot higher than me in the WSOW. I thought I had been special coming at 26th but when I look at these other women and they came in at 19th 10th and even 8th there is still so much that I need to go out there and accomplish.

I really wanted Molly Hatchet to be in this match but for unforeseen reasons she had to drop out and that spot is now replaced by Jessie Lee. I really haven’t ran in the same circles that Jessie has ran in but what I do know is that she represents Action Wrestling. She was their inaugural Women’s Champion and she will be pouring everything she possibly can into trying to be the inaugural TIA Women’s Champion.”

Crystal shakes her head as she continues to speak.

“She might be a last minute substitution but don’t let that confuse anybody. The reality is she belongs in this match and with the chance of a lifetime she is definitely going to make the most of this opportunity. Everybody is going to give all they got when they walk into that ring. Each of us are going to be pushing as hard as we can in order to walk away as the champion..”

Crystal looks at the picture of all of the colors as she sees her name at the very top.

“However as much as everybody is going to be pushing towards winning, the truth is only one person has their name in gold. I don’t care if you think it’s yellow but it my eyes it’s gold. It’s gold because it represents that I am a champion through the thick and thin. I am going to be quite the iron woman during the DPI wrestling in not one but two different matches. If anybody has the ability to persevere and showcase they are a fighter it’s me. All I have ever done was be a fighter. It all started growing up in the slums of Detroit, to being adopted by my aunt. I have made a name for myself through hard work and determination.

That ideal will continue to be told as soon as I enter into the wrestling ring. Five women will walk into a ring but only one will emerge as a champion. That woman will be me and I will give everything of myself to ensure that it happens.

It won’t be that long now… Lights, Camera, Action… It’s show time ladies. Why don’t we go create a blockbuster shall we?! Welcome to the curtain call. Talk a bow because your show it’s officially going to get cancelled. It’s about time I roll the credits on all of you once and for all. I will become champion. This is all I got and I will shine…

Flame On… The Burning Rose will be ignited…. See all of you soon…”

With that Crystal has that confident expression on her face as we fade out on this image.]]> Los Angeles, California

Crystal Zdunich was quite the celebrity. Not only was she a big time actress, cosplayer, and video game girl but she was also one of the best women wrestlers in the entire world. Despite being fired in her main company of Sin City Wrestling after suffering a very brutal beat down at the hands of Bella Madison. Crystal had successfully entered and won an invitational match which crowned her as the brand new SCW Bombshell Roulette Champion. Add that accomplishment along with the Splat Multiverse and the ECWF World Women’s Championships that she held and Crystal was a champion of three different companies. A wide grin escapes her lips as she stood side by side her wife Seleana Zdunich. Crystal had been invited to a comic convention where she was booked to do photo and autograph ops with the public. The nerd within her however was focused on being an attendee though as she wore her best Poison Ivy cosplay, and her wife was dressed like Harley Quinn. Crystal’s eyes open up as she sees a Square Enix booth in the distance.

“Oh Seleana it’s the Square Enix booth, I wonder if we could go try out the latest Final Fantasy there?!”

Seleana smirks as she nods her head in agreement.

“I don’t know chickie but why don’t we go take a look…”

As the two of them make their way over to the booth that is when they are immediately bombarded by a bunch of fans. It felt no different than being on the streets of Hollywood Hills where her paparazzi following consistently tried to get into her face and ask her various questions. Each fan shoved markers in her direction as they tried to get her to sign anything and everything.

“Crystal can you sign this for me?!”

“Mrs. Zdunich can you autograph my replica Splat Championship?!”

“Can you take a photo with me, you are my favorite wrestler…”

It just seemed as she was pulled in so many different directions. Seleana however just chuckles as she looks at her wife and smiles at her.

“You are super popular. I can’t believe how many people want to meet you. You have been amazing lately. I can’t believe that you have three championships Crystal…”

Walking a day in Crystal’s shoes was never meant to be easy. She just smiles as she tries to figure out who to answer first but then that is when she is confronted by somebody holding a microphone.

“Hi Mrs. Zdunich do you mind if we can get a word with you, we represent daily women’s wrestling radio and your name has come up a lot has being one of the very best in the world as of lately. In the last Quag Cup you have had a top four finish. In the World Series of Wrestling you were part of the top 26. You just became Splat Champion, you have been held your ECWF Women’s World Championship for a while and have officially been named as one of the official participants in the inaugural TIA World Women’s Championship match. How does it feel to receive such an honor and knowing that you will be competing at the Denzel Porter Invitational. There is a chance that if you are still Splat Champion you will be wrestling in two matches during that event…”

Crystal’s eyes light up as she nods her head in agreement. She looks at the roaring crowd as she gives them a smile. She raises two of her championships high into the air as she replies back.

“First and foremost can I just say that it feels really great to be here today and to interact with all of these amazing fans?! To be honest I feel very excited that I was chosen to compete for the TIA Women’s Championship. I love everything that TIA has to offer and as amazing as it was having a top 26 finish in the World Series of Wrestling there is a part of me that knows I could have been so much better. I feel honored that I can compete on Denzel Porter’s show because he is one of the best that does what he does…”

Crystal nods her head as she speaks some more.

“He is always up to date with his information and I had meant to sign up for his event. However you know how the business can be sometimes. We get caught up in what is happening in our home feds that we lose sight from what’s happening all across the wrestling community. Even though I didn’t get the chance to sign up I can personally guarantee you that I will in fact compete in two separate matches. I will be Splat Champion and I will walk away with the TIA Women’s Championship as well. I have always been a woman that has been stretched across companies but it has never been a problem. I am quite successful and I do well at the things that I do. Next month I will walk out with a fourth championship and that’s something I guarantee. Who knows I might do a special cosplay for that occasion. I do believe these fans deserve that much…”

The reporter nods his head as he looks deeper into Crystal’s eyes.

“Good and I know we cannot wait to see what you will do in the ring.”

Crystal nods her head as she offers a wave.

“And I can’t wait to entertain all of you. This is what I live for and it is what I breathe for. It’s everything or nothing at all. You can rest assured that at the DPI every fan will get their money’s worth from me. I will tear the house down and more importantly I will become the brand spanking new TIA Champion…”

The reporter smirks.

“Thank you so much for this brief interview… We wish you the best of luck…”

With that other people try their best to get closer to Crystal. The blue haired vixen is quick to escape with her wife as they decide to head in the direction of their autograph booth. They finally make it to their destination and when more fans try to surround them that is when security does everything in their power to protect them. Crystal smiles as she looks right into the eyes of her wife.

“It feels really good being popular and even feels better being a champion. Just imagine how much people will swoon over me when I win the TIA World Women’s Champion?!”

Seleana and her wife begin to laugh at one another as Crystal turns her attention over to the mob of fans waiting to meet her. She adjusts all of her championships as she begins to do photo ops with each and every single one of them. It is on this image that we fade out on.

Promo

The cameras are in focus as we are able to see Crystal Zdunich in the heart of Las Vegas, Nevada. A smile escapes her lips as she stands in front of Sin City Wrestling headquarters. Photographers are quick to snap photos of the beauty as she twirls around for the world to see. She is wearing her three championships, (Splat, SCW Roulette, and ECWF World Women's) all over her body. She runs her hands through her blue hair as she looks right into the lens.

“Good evening to all of my blossoming roses out there. Of course you know me… After all I was a co-star on the WIFE which could be seen on Splat, I hold three championships, I am the star of the Detroit Rampage, and star QB of the Brooklyn Brawlers. I am a household name and even if you have trouble trying to say my surname of Zdunich I am sure you know me by the thousands of other names that I have gone by. Crystalina, Christina, Rose, Hilton, Williams, Caldwell, Zdunich… Damn the list really doesn’t end but honestly does it matter?! As far as I am concerned by the end of DPI there is only going be one thing that the entire world should be calling me and that is CHAMPION… I plan to do everything in my power to walk away as the first ever TIA World Women’s Champion and I doubt there is anything that anybody can do to stop it…

I am not discounting or even overlooking the four other women that are going to be participating in this colors elimination match with me. Each of them are talented in their own unique way. They all were chosen because they are special to the world of women’s wrestling but I didn’t come here to get caught up in the hype of everybody else. I came here to showcase how great I am and why I am the only one fitting of walking away as a champion.

This match at DPI is going to be one to be remembered. The rules are very simple. In order to become the champion your opposing two colors need to be eliminated first. Once those targets are gone you could be crown champion. That sounds easy enough but where things get really weird is that the colors that aren’t opposing me are supposed to be allies of some type. Those allies could very well lead to a person earning a victory but in the same token they could also be your downfall. After all it may get hard to keep track of everything when we get into the trenches of the match.

Before I go any further let me make one thing clear. To women such as Brittani Helms and Selena Frost who are looking to become the champion that isn’t going to happen. Not because I doubt their ability or anything but more so on the fact that I believe in my own talents and ability. I am not going to allow myself to be eliminated so that takes the two of them right out of the equation of women that could possibly win this match, and it brings us to three women that really can win it. Myself, Zara and Jessie Lee…”

Crystal offers a chuckle as she takes a long deep breath and begins to speak again.

“So the question of the day is why am I so confident?! What makes me think that I have what it takes to just waltz into the MGM Grand Arena and walk away as a champion?! It’s common sense in all honesty. My home company is Sin City Wrestling. I wrestle in a company that is based on being in Las Vegas and my secondary company is Uprising which is right in Reno. This whole Nevada life is the only thing that I have known consistently for the past eight years. Year I might have gone through twenty million name changes and I may compete in a lot of places, but these two companies have been where I have consistently been at. Nobody knows Vegas as much as I do and as a member of the SCW roster I have become their only five time World Champion and a member of their Hall of Fame.

If I manage to do that for SCW what is to stop me from continuing on with business as usual and winning yet another World Championship in Vegas?! I have been unstoppable for the past eight months or so. I have won two different World Championships and I just keep winning.

I have won match after match and I am not showing any signs of slowing down. Hell compared to everybody else who else can say that have been doing what I have been doing for as long as I have been doing it?! I have turned 35 years old this past November and I can say I have been a pro for 17 years of my life. I am a second generation wrestler, and my beginnings all started in some rundown gym in Mexico City training under my father Pedro Lopez. I took what he taught me and I came to America with a purpose. I used everything I learned and it has translated to over 21 World Championships. Those are stats that are definitely amazing if I say so myself.

Who can say they have that drive and dedication coursing through their veins?! I know Selena Frost who I said won’t be winning this match earlier but it would be foolish to discredit what she has done. She has seen me competing in Supreme Championship Wrestling where I haven’t had the best of luck. However in that SCW she has prided herself on being the face of the company with the longest World Championship reign a multitude of championships that she has won along with being a four time World Champion. She is truly one of the best of the best.

I know I will have my work cut out for me but I am not afraid. She has to come to the city I constantly compete at to showcase she wants this as much as I do. I doubt she is as passionate about this like I am. It is my heart that is full of adrenaline that will fuel me to victory. Any other day Seleana may have had my number but at the DPI this Burning Rose is going to melt the Snow Queen. She won’t be able to stop the flames that have been fanned to see me successful. I will rise above her and claim what is mine…

Any other day you may have had my number Seleana but not on this night… I promise you that…”

Crystal claps her hands as she chuckles.

“And of course there is that other color that is opposite of me and it is represented by Brittani Helms. If I can be honest Brittani comes from the world of 5BW and I really don’t know about what goes on in the confines of that company. So I can’t comment one way or another. What I can say though is that is everybody from 5BW likes to talk at the mouth and they just like to be all up in my business. Obviously I am defending my Splat Championship against Hayley so she wants to run her mouth, which of course caused Sam Tolson to chime in, and I bet Brittani is going to say some stupid shit.

It really doesn’t matter what you say about me because I know there is tons of material on me. I been in this business for a very long time. My name has worth and I am honored if you know me. I rather be known and relevant instead of being just there. Brittani you are going to be in for a world of serious pain. I don’t say this often I am going to fuck you up simply for being associated to people that I really don’t care about. Just try not to get blinded by my spotlight too much. I don’t want you to crumble under the limelight of watching a true superstar go into action.

Besides based from what I see, it’s pure street trash. Vegas is a little ways off from the East Coast sweetie. Stick to wrestling in your little bubble because branching out isn’t your strength, and I will make sure to that when I step into the ring with you…”

Crystal finally forms another grin as she begins to speak some more.

“Now that we got that out of the way let’s talk about the two women who also happen to be in this match as well, they aren’t really my opponent but I still have to make sure that they don’t end up winning the match as well. One woman is one that I know very well. Zara Ivory and I happen to be part of the same company. As a matter of fact it was at one point where we were both competing for Zion to be a last added edition to the World Series of Wrestling. I was all about trying to do everything in my power to earn my keep but I was informed because of the name that I had in the business and from my participation in different events that I didn’t have to earn my way into the WSOW.

So I was allowed to get a pass to go right into the mix. Zara Ivory didn’t have that luxury and she managed to earn her chance to get into the event. I respect the hell out of Ivory because she always seems to bust her ass to get what she wants. I know she is going to be one of the biggest threats in this match because I get to see her every single week during her reign as the Gateway Champion. She is elevating the championship and is using it to really bring her career to new heights. It doesn’t stop there. Zara is a woman that has given everything of herself to be the best wrestler she possibly can be.

She is a member of the ever growing Queens of Wrestling and has made it her habit to be part of a wrestling sorority that emphasizes domination of getting what one wants out of wrestling. I know I had my run in with the leader of her group in Jessi Osborne. It was a tough match for me but I have beaten her. So if I can beat Jessi, I know for a fact that I can go out there and beat Zara.

As I look at Zara, I can’t help but look at Selena Frost, and before she had to drop out of this match Molly Hatchet. I have come to the realization that all of them had placed a lot higher than me in the WSOW. I thought I had been special coming at 26th but when I look at these other women and they came in at 19th 10th and even 8th there is still so much that I need to go out there and accomplish.

I really wanted Molly Hatchet to be in this match but for unforeseen reasons she had to drop out and that spot is now replaced by Jessie Lee. I really haven’t ran in the same circles that Jessie has ran in but what I do know is that she represents Action Wrestling. She was their inaugural Women’s Champion and she will be pouring everything she possibly can into trying to be the inaugural TIA Women’s Champion.”

Crystal shakes her head as she continues to speak.

“She might be a last minute substitution but don’t let that confuse anybody. The reality is she belongs in this match and with the chance of a lifetime she is definitely going to make the most of this opportunity. Everybody is going to give all they got when they walk into that ring. Each of us are going to be pushing as hard as we can in order to walk away as the champion..”

Crystal looks at the picture of all of the colors as she sees her name at the very top.

“However as much as everybody is going to be pushing towards winning, the truth is only one person has their name in gold. I don’t care if you think it’s yellow but it my eyes it’s gold. It’s gold because it represents that I am a champion through the thick and thin. I am going to be quite the iron woman during the DPI wrestling in not one but two different matches. If anybody has the ability to persevere and showcase they are a fighter it’s me. All I have ever done was be a fighter. It all started growing up in the slums of Detroit, to being adopted by my aunt. I have made a name for myself through hard work and determination.

That ideal will continue to be told as soon as I enter into the wrestling ring. Five women will walk into a ring but only one will emerge as a champion. That woman will be me and I will give everything of myself to ensure that it happens.

It won’t be that long now… Lights, Camera, Action… It’s show time ladies. Why don’t we go create a blockbuster shall we?! Welcome to the curtain call. Talk a bow because your show it’s officially going to get cancelled. It’s about time I roll the credits on all of you once and for all. I will become champion. This is all I got and I will shine…

Flame On… The Burning Rose will be ignited…. See all of you soon…”

With that Crystal has that confident expression on her face as we fade out on this image.]]> <![CDATA[I am]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45733 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 18:51:43 -0800 Lacklan]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45733

HIIIIIII-iiiiiiiii!

This is your reason for being, the source of ALL the murderhobo tears, Sarah Lacklan. Now, SOME of you peeps are all “OMG! Dolly tapped SARAH as her mystery partner?! Holy CRAP, yo!” and SOME of you are all “......who dis bitch?” and listen, I totes understand the importance of both of those stances. I’m not, at least at this time, going to delve into my storied background, okay? I’m not going to get into all the titles, both singles and tag, or the tournament victories, or any history with the eponymous Mr. Porter himself. Because this isn't about all of that. This isn’t about any ongoing fights or rivalries, about any title or contendership aspirations. So what IS this about?

Fulfilling a promise.

For the last few years, I have been doing my best to influence the world of wrestling, to help it evolve beyond the wasteland it often is, to make it change. I have had great success in that time across this world, but in doing so, I have let slip something just as important as the championships attained and the influence wrought: Relationships. In order to truly bring my change to the world, I need people to stand with me, people of repute and quality, of unrelenting valor. I have some more secure than the most advanced vault in the strongest bank, but others have become tenuous and strained. This is my error, and none other, and is paramount in my thoughts of this moment.

I love my beautiful, bouncing baby girl Dolly Waters.

It is my JOB, my very IDENTITY in this moment, to support and teach Dolly. In this instance, at the unfortunate expense of Jmont and Cal, that means the two of us working as a tag team. Over the last few years, Dolly and I have fought, both physically and emotionally, both with and against one another, tested one another, pushed one another, changed one another. We have trained together and worked on our moves and overall understanding of the business, inside and out. We have made each other smile and laugh, made each other angry and violent. We have made each other’s day and sent one another into the lowest depths of disappointment.

We are a TEAM and a FAMILY.

Next time, I’ll get into the nitty-gritty of this match, okay? We’ll take a bit more than a gander at ol’ Jmont and Kal. We’ll break it down, explain the math. But for now?

Wait…wait…

Wait…

Oh Sweet Baby Jesus’ perfectly smooth bottom….

They’re CCPE guys?

SIIIIIIIIIIIGH

Okay, I’ll take a teeny, tiny, itsy-bitsy moment here, okay? For the record…THE RECORD, I SAY….

You’re a stable.

“BUT SARAH! PAGE SAID-”

NOPE!

HIIIIIStory TIIIIIIIME!

In THIS, not just OUR favorite sport, but literally God’s favorite sport, there became a styling of groups across time. After we pushed past the fairs and circus of our forefathers and found ourselves instead in auditoriums and gymnasiums, certain trends arose, and one of those trends were what we might today call fight camps. People didn’t just find themselves training at the same gym at the same time, but they found themselves training together, working on techniques and philosophies. And from this movement came managers and leaders, people who knew how to think beyond just the next match and instead how to use groups of fighters to accomplish MORE.

The manager created a stable.

Just like a stableman looking over some beautiful horses (none more beautiful than my faultless Fireheart, obvs), these managers groomed men, taught them to think differently, to think as a team. And with that direction, these herds would find success, would win championships together, would make money, would plant seeds within the rats outside the arena. But unfortunately for those wrestlers, they didn’t realize a particularly important aspect of being a stable:

The stableman holds no qualm for shooting a horse when they break a leg.

Wrestlers were ousted from the stable whenever the manager saw fit, whenever they found that their usage was no longer valid. They would be replaced by a new stud, whether they be fresh blood or an old hand still short in the teeth, who could make up the slack created by that broken leg.

Such is the fate of the CCPE dummies.

Rip-off Artist Supreme Page, ever in a life-long, yet ultimately fruitless, quest to be Great instead of just plain ol’ Good, has built himself a stable of studs who are always just a moment away of replacing the st- with another d, and we have already seen some of those horses find themselves shot after a snapped leg. Which, all things considered, is probably not what Jmont wants to hear after that little bit of business at the House of Blues. Rough night for that guy. A whole lot of talking, whole lot of exclaiming that he’s going to be the next Excellence Champ, and all he had to walk away with that night was a busted face, a trip to the doctor, and a bag full of hotdogs.

Now listen, I’m FULLY aware that losing INSERT MATCH HERE isn’t exactly the most noteworthy thing, but it’s about the CONTEXT, yeah know? Ol’ Twizted Thoughts (I bet they council him, they understand), posterboy for CCPE with THAT bit of originality, didn’t just lose ANY match the other day. He lost a TAG match with RANDOM PARTNER HERE against, get this, a family. And what match does he have at DPI Part Deux?

A tag match…with a partner whose not axly a partner…against a family.

This is one of the issues that stables have. Since there is so much turnover, so many horses going in and out as they are led off to the shed to have their broken leg problems blasted away with hunting rifle, they never have the chance to actually GEL together. Sure, they work out and go get manicures, or whatever, but learn to THINK the same? Nah. Not like a family. And while Ol’ J-mimic may well have run up and down the roads across two decades, or whatever, with Kal, fighting both with and against each other, they will NEVER get the level of cohesion that is my Daughter Dolly and Mumsie Sarah.

And I suppose that is what this match is REALLY about. It’s about the emotion of it all. Dolly and I are together to change the business, and if that means lifting it up…burning it down…or doing something in between….we plan on doing it in a way very few others can understand:

Together.

“What IS all this?”

Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan's boney features were pointedly confused. Adorned in a garishly loud dress of black and red pleats, with long and puffy sleeves that covered every inch of body from heel to neck, the Porcelain Princess, the older (but not taller!) half of the current XWF taggie team champions, stood out against the dark exterior of the shop. The albino, seeming extra bright amidst this backdrop, shook her head, causing the tiny bells attached to an ostentatious hat covered in black feathers to fill the night with music.

"Honestly, child, if this gets any more unnecessarily cringe, it might as well be featured in a Goth promotional video set in Forks!"

The woman's high-pitched Londoner accent was full of derision, but there was a glint of mischief in her oddly red eyes. While one gloved hand clutched a SWEET Windows phone, lovingly restored but still painfully archaic, another hand waved before her, taking in the shop with more than just a touch of spirit fingers.

"Anything more copied from what's seen on television and just kinda-sorta redid without any individual creativity or effort and it would be included in a Best of Jmont Moves compilation on #CoolTube!"

"It doesn't look THAT bad, Babe."

The accent of the voice coming through the phone was hard to identify, an odd mixture with influences of Seattle, Hollywood, and voice training in neutrality, but the resulting gumbo was clearly that of Mackenzi Michaela Grey-Lacklan, the far far FAR more popular, likeable, and talented of the infamous Grey-Lacklans. With a caramel skin that spoke of a mixed heritage, the movie producer and former wrestler had her long micro braids pulled up in a bun in a way that accentuated her long neck and the light red freckles doted across her cheeks.

"I'm sure whoever owns the place is some sweet old lady…or some skeletal old crone like your mother…"

Sarah blinked as her eyes swept back and forth over the shop.

"What was that last part, Beloved? You garbled up with the crappy cell service I have out here in God knows where."

"Nothing, Baby. Love you so much!"

"Ah, that's sweet. Love you more! Anyway, our daughter is here trying to prep for her match with Mother Grey-"

Kenzi's groan over the fact that her mother was wrestling again…and embarrassing her the entire way…was full of frustration and disgust.

"-and I feel that I've ghosted her enough…at least for now, anyway."

"Has she learned whatever supposed lesson you're trying to teach her?"

"No…but she's undoubtedly getting closer."

"You know, Babe, what I don't understand is what's with all the daughter stuff. We both know that Dolly’s great…she was the best employee ever…way better than that tiggle-bittied bimbo friend of yours-"

"Hey! You leave Ash alone!"

"-but last time I checked, neither one of us popped out a baby from our vaginas."

Sarah's Eye Roll of Doom (far better than an Infamous Smirk) is long enough to last through about half on the next excruciatingly lengthy CCPE vs SAGA in-ring segment, but her voice finds hesitation.

"It's…well…she reminds me of…"

"You?"

"Oh God no!"

Sarah's angelic face was aghast with horror for a moment.

"I mean, have you SEEN her cuticles?! And it took me SO LONG just to get her to understand the importance of things like, oh I don't know, washing her hair, using deodorant and perfume, and other things they don't appreciate in Kentucky. And don't EVEN get me started on her diction! I guess its…well…she reminds me of Nikita."

"Oh, your trainer got into voodoo?"

"Well, no, but what she DID do was get into this sport as a very young girl, that's what she reminds me of. Nikita got into fighting because she had to, and she did it at a young age, and she had to deal with men who treated her like she was lesser just because of her gender, and with people who didn't believe in her. She wasn't just a woman, she was a ROOKIE woman, so in many ways, she had the worst beginning than anyone else. And she made bad decisions, got with the wrong people, found solace in narcotics. She had to scratch and claw her way through it all…and THAT is what Dolly makes me think of.

"Truth be told, Dolly can be a world champion. She can be world class. She can be on OUR level! But she needs me. She needs me to be there for her the way that Nikita was there for me…and the way no one was there for her. She needs me to show her the ropes, and not just the importance of understanding the distinction between a clothesline from a lariat, or a headlock from a Swedish cravat. But the distinction between what's right and what's wrong. She needs me to help steer her ship…not to pilot it and make her decisions…but to help guide her and show her how things CAN be, not just how things HAVE been.

"There was a time, years ago, when we were doing our Bleed the World Tour, when I was fighting everywhere and everything, and part of that meant being a Hardcore Champion, right? Fighting for stupid championships with stupid situations in front of stupid crowds where we tried to decapitate one another, or something. And when I needed it most, Nikita was there for me, to remind me that that's not my job. My job isn't to wrestle at the bottom of the card against murderhobos. My job isn't to entertain the plebians who would frequent such muck-filled halls. MY job was to be the World Champion, to be wrestling in arenas at the top of the card, to be the reason why people show up, the reason why people continue to become wrestlers. And I am here to do the same for Dolly. I am here to remind her of how good she is to, remind her of how great she can be.

"And so it's important for me to come here at this place…whatever this is…and TEACH her. I'm here to get her to realize that she needs to leave broken flotsam to the obscurity of the ocean after a ship has gone to wreck, to realize that HER job is to swim from that wreck, no longer burdened by that rotted flotsam, and walk onto the beach, cleansed and baptized. I'm here to teach her that, in order to turn good into great, she needs to leave behind the toys and the trauma of the past, to leave behind the muddy waters of her nature and accept the nurture that I offer. To forever leave behind those questionable decision in her past and step forth, forevermore, as a member of the House of Lacklan.

"And that's why when, in an odd play to be a part of this year's Invitational, she found herself in the difficult position of needing to supply the mystery. She found a need for Mumsie Sarah, THE taggie team champion responsible for wrecking that ship of hers, to be that mystery fulfillment."

"...and why are you standing outside of a voodoo hut?"

Another eye roll allowed her a moment to actually breathe.

"Yeah…well…listen, she's wrestling your mumsy soon and honestly, I don't know what she's doing here, but it's not the worst I've seen, right? We've seen some pretty craxy sy stuff in this business, so if you don't mind me, I will let you get back to your underwear football team management-”

”Hey! You leave the Hit Girls alone!”

”-and go into what is undoubtedly our daughter's evil lair. All I hope for is that she’s not, like, sitting on a throne made of skulls, sucking on a Blood Orange flavored Goth Drop, while behind her spouts a fountain of blood which then drains into the side of a walkway that is, at all times,lined with the tears of her enemies. Like, I swear to Baby Jesus’ blemish-free and perfectly smooth bottom, that if I find something like a murder of crows flying away as I open this door…"

Upon approaching the door, Sarah sees a gargoyle knocker.

And she sighs the world’s deepest sigh.

I said earlier that this wasn't necessarily about me, but it occurs to me that it might be a bit rude if I didn't properly introduce myself. Like I alluded to before, there are plenty of Baby Birds out there in #DPILand (you’re welcome, Denzel!), but I would be remiss if Jmont and Kal didn’t get to hear some stuff beforehand. See, going by what USUALLY happens when I face new peeps, I’m going to assume they are already talking about how squishy that little girl Dolly will be, and how they’ll be able to throw her around like a ragdoll, or block any attempt at her annoying flippy shit just by catching her and lawndarting her into the turnbuckle, or something. And to their credit, they would be somewhat correct, since neither one of their opponents are exactly a hulking beast of strength. But there is so much more to this particular mystery opponent of theirs, so I feel it would, again, be only fair of me to introduce myself properly.

My name is Lacklan.

And I am.

I am the excellence that everyone in our business strives to be. I am the champion that everyone patterns themselves after. I am this business.

Everyone tries, right? Everyone works out, exercises, practices maneuvors and techniques. They go to school, do homework, do ALL the things to try to emulate their heroes. I look at the field of DPI competitors that will be in Vegas, and I recognize my fair share of names, but of course have to look up others (none of this tired and ultimately silly “I’ve never even heard of YOU…you MUST be some LOSER” nonsense we have all seen so often; the business is far to large for that), and I see so many people trying. This is what separates me, and those like Dolly who wish to learn, from the rest of this field. While they try, I simply am.

I am the champion everyone wishes they were.

Listen, in my career I've suffered the same setbacks everybody else has. I've been hurt and injured enough to be on the shelf. I’ve been tired and sore. I’ve been elated and ecstatic, and also driven down into the depths of disappointment and shame. I know what it is like to truly dominate when I am at my best, and to come up short when it mattered most. And that is a big part of why I’m here, right now, in Vegas. Last time Mr Porter held his event, I was set to partake, but I was unable to be cleared. Now, it’s different. Now, I’m healthy. Now, I’m here to teach Dolly, my beautiful bouncing baby girl, on some of the most important aspects of this sport. And unfortunately for Jmont and Kal, it will be at their expense. But I suppose that is a lesson they can learn from this weekend, as well. Be brave enough to sign up for a mystery match? Then be prepared to face the consequences of that bravery. Because that mystery isn’t just any random murderhobo off the streets, or pulled from some idiotic hardcore match.

It’s me.

And I am.

]]>

??????? ???: PRISON?ER | (2/4)

vs. Casanova English

Click to read.

]]> RELEVANT TWEET ►►► https://twitter.com/lissiehope/status/16...48801?s=20

??????? ???: PRISON?ER | (2/4)

vs. Casanova English

Click to read.

]]> <![CDATA[Arrested Development]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45731 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 17:55:06 -0800 Sebastian Everett-Bryce]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45731

]]>

]]> <![CDATA[Clamorin' for a Clash: DPI Edition]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45729 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 17:24:29 -0800 Jessie Lee]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45729 [Image: Screenshot-20230216-164126.jpg]

'Ey Yo.

Ladies an' Gentlemen; boys an' girls; hardcore professional wrestling fans of all ages, shapes, genders, sexualities, ethnicities, inter-planetary drifters, and multidimensional wayfarers looking for a certified banger to watch that will UNDOUBTEDLY steal the entire show of the Denzel Porter Invitational; the sleeper match that'll bring the BOOM on an already electric premium live event, the five-star clusterfuck to crown the first ever This Is Awesome Women's Champion!

If that don't get your blood pumpin' than you're pretty much walkin' corpse that hasn't realized it's actually a freakin' corpse.

Kinda like the other four shmucks I get to the unique privilege of eleva-errr.....sharing the ring with.

Totally smooth with no passive aggressive undertones, that one.

Competitive indifference threatening to burst forth in a torrent of verbal diarrhea aside; this match, just as I already said, is goin' to a complete an' total clusterfuck that'll undoubtedly get a whole hell of a lot more brutal than anyone is currently predictin' it will be as they sit behind their little safety screens thinkin' they're the smartest smart marks to ever smart mark. See, them smarks have already got in their teenie weenie heads that it'll be a done deal where the big money conflict outta the five of us is Crystal Zdunich....Caldwell(?)....pretty sure it's Zdunich......and Selena Frost; the SPLAT Multiverse Champion that's so completely self-unaware that it's almost comedic an' the botox icon of SCW. Don't get it twisted though, the take no prisoners mentality of Zara Ivory clashin' with livin' definition of "Ain't no Slouch" Brittani Helms is also a pairin' that people didn't know that they needed till now. That said, I could carry on about the various other pairings of Frost versus Ivory or Helms/ Zdunich for the rest of this little promotional diatribe but the fact of the matter is that it ain't about THEM; not entirely.

It's about walkin' through the hell of narrow minded self-deluded expectations an' comin' out as the Women's Champion; the FIRST EVER This Is Awesome Women's Champion.

let's not forget that, amongst all the verbal floods of shameless self-promotion, this is about creatin' a legacy that'll do justice to the fire storm that the very formation of This Is Awesome ignited within this fucked up industry that's made up of so many broken pieces that it's nearly unimaginable that something so cobbled together that one could say that'll it'll crumble at any given moment; that amongst all the jagged edges and the damage seemin'ly irreparable that there is some great shit that brings us together. Granted, what often brings us together is the same fucked competitive desire that tears us apart limb from bloody limb; but hey, who's keepin' track? But yeah; at least to me, this opportunity to not only represent this wacky messed up world as the TIA Women's Champion but to also define what it means to REALLY be a champion in a world predominantly filled with narcissistic douche-canoes that slurp up their own deluded delusional shit that they're basically walkin' environmental disasters.

Which, realizing what that means after it left my mouth, means that's goin' to be quite the monumental task.

A task that I'm more than up for.

"What. The. Fuck."

Standing alone amidst the wreckage of what had been their makeshift home, the near six foot audacious Aussie wasn't properly able to process the scene around her. Their cots were torn to shreds and their personal effects were either missing or outright destroyed. She had understood that essentially swatting there might not have been the best of ideas, but perpetually living from hotel to hotel wasn't exactly ideal either. Yes, she was a professional wrestler and sending the majority of your adult life on the road did come along with the territory. However, she wasn't the sole person that she had to worry about nor was she was the only thing affected in this. For the last year her life, both personally and professionally, had been a prime example of Murphy's Law where just about everything that could go wrong went wrong.

The initial Action Wrestling debut of the Aussie Assault went less than stellar. The SPLAT! Multiverse championship slipped through her fingers. Revolution One, her first ever professional wrestling company she worked for, closed it's doors twice. Instead of becoming the Action Wrestling Cruiserweight Champion like she wanted, she ended up playing second fiddle to some shmuck that still thought that dick jokes were funny despite being, like, fifty. Spent the better part of the chasing the Action Wrestling Hardcore Championship to no fucking avail not to mention that becoming Action Wrestling's first ever offical Women's champion and the subsequent Cruiserweght Tag Team straps went as quickly as she had gotten a hold of them. Then, most recently, she couldn't seen to get the rhythm of chasing the United States Championship either. Plus, to top everything off she had dealing with the fact that her oldest brother had been diagnosed with cancer while the other brother had decided to finally get clean for the first time in his miserable life.

So using the crystal clear power of hindsight, it might have been a terrible idea to try and open up a gym while trying deal with all of that. Even so, that didn't take away the pain of witnessing the aftermath of somebody's destructive fun that had been done to the project that you had been pouring your heart and soul into over the last month. It didn't ease the crestfallen reality of which she forever in.

"It'll be fine, Jess. Don't worry."

Unable to look her brother in the eye, Jessie shrugged off his meek attempt at comforting her as she swept his hand off her shoulder in a brisk movement.

"Don't, Jack. Just. Don't."

With a heavy sigh of disappointment of his own, the middle Lee child simply shook his head a tad before beginning the task of cleaning the chaos around them; a mess that a category five tornado would be proud of. Perhaps out of an automated sense of knowing that standing around wouldn't do anything or maybe just to simply distract herself, Jessie her brother's example and began cleaning up the mess.

Now that I've set a bit of a stage with my lyrical darin'-do I spit on a whimsy, how 'bout we delve into the objective realities a tad before jumpin' overboard with what you're all really here for; the subjective burial of the of the four overrated ankle biters that're lookin' to add somethin' meanin'ful to their careers since they first set foot into their favorite echo chambers for the first time; let's talk about the 4-star match itself. Now, much like any multi person match, it's gonna be a guaranteed cluster from the moment it was conceived; of that nobody's gonna argue. Triple threats, fatal four-ways, tag team, or some uber gimmicked match so uber convoluted that it's basically impossible to imagine any semblance of order bein' kept; stuff that'll wake the zebras in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Trust me on this, I had to square off against seven other tryhards aspirin' to become Revolution One's Horrorcore Champion and it was a literal shitshow; eight-man first blood eliminations are next level in the "What The Literal Fuck?" department. So it's safe to say that I got a fair amount of experience when it comes to volatile shindigs like this an' even more with dealin' with these types of women that'll have the ever enjoyable honor of punchin' in the face; pretty, gnarly, an' horse-faces alike.

Crystal Hilton-Caldwell-Zdunich; the, as of the time of this recordin', SPLAT Multiversal Burning Rose that is at the point of her career where she's collectin' championship straps like junkie addicted to painkillers pops pills. She's, like, on her fortieth(?) or forty-third world championship at this point. In all honestly, I've lost count of how many times she's inflated her numbers cause it's like she's that one annoying kid back in primary school that would lie about EVERYTHING just to make it seem like they were better than they actually fuckin' were. Don't get me wrong, she's proven herself to be one hell of a competitor inside the ring, but when your sittin' there, a proven dynasty in today's world, hittin' up social media a dozen times a day claimin' that you're the overbearin' generic underdog that'll never stay down an' will ALWAYS prevail no matter what; it makes everyone with at least two brain cells gag and if they say otherwise then they're straight lyin' through their teeth.

End. Of. Story.

Then we got the Snitch Shooter herself, Brittani Helms; which I find totally hilarious cause, as everyone knows, snitches get stitches. Now, I'm sure we're all aware that Britt-nit is as hard-nosed an' as tough as they come in a sub two hundred pound frame, but bein' a DC Savage don't amount to much in the face of the Horrorkore Hottie that spent the first year of her profession wrestlin' career takin' down literal fuckin' psychos, crazy cult members that attempted to slit her throat on live television, and givin' better than she got from one of the single greatest World Champions that Level up Wrestling had the pleasure of having represent them in Maggie Lockheart.

The DC Snitch is gonna fuck 'round an' find out right quick that the copy and paste tough chick shtick crumbles when paired against someone that's just tougher, angrier, an' far more violent than she is; me survivin' against all the people that tried to or are tryin', in the here and now, to kill me are just a testament to the fact that she ain't even pryin' the TIA Women's Championship from my grasp; not this time an' certainly not to her.

While I'm still on the topic of the run of the mill tough girl acts that doesn't mean jack to me or anybody followin' the Invitational or the World Series of Wrestling; Zara Ivory, the "Chaotic Nightmare" that currently holdin' the ZION Gateway strap firmly in her little LOL XD random early two thousands era claws. Now, I'mma be honest that admit that I like her spirit an' find her a whole hell of a lot more interestin' that Zduy-nicked. However, that just means I'm gonna be comin' at her harder cause that's just the kind of twisted mentality that God gave me. I see someone I like that has the same interests as me; I beat the ever living hell out of them outta respect an' expect the same; then we move on an' I raise the newly debuted TIA Women's Championship into the air in triumph. Cause whether she wants to admit it or not, bein' a Queen ain't nothin' more than momentary fad that'll fad outta pop culture sooner rather than later; like how she'll fade outta this match when I spin her right round an' drop her on her dome with a healthy competitive prejudice an' a wicked Leethality.

Last, least, but certainly never counted down an' out; the irrefutable face of SCW herself, Selena Frost. Now, this is the part where I try an' spit out some snappy line about how she lives her life as if it were scripted out by some sky God that moonlights as a WISH brand Anne Rice wannabe where I would then follow up with some generic dig 'bout she'll be getting fucked by more than just a ghost with big dick energy when she steps into the ring with me. However, I would kill to have such a life an' I can't in good consensus say such things as I'd kill to have a life like that; any emo kid that read any of her books an' never out grew their scene phase would. That said, all the overbearin' talk about integrity and making championships worth somethin' again might sound great to the average mark but any half decent smark can pick up on the thinly veiled pretentious nature in which you judge an' determine just how far other are beneath her. Which is fine an' dandy for the sigma simps that get their jollies off from those kinda folks, but I ain't here to fuck spiders and be just another statistic victim to self-absorbed cunt with a complex that's mildly more tolerable than the sickeningly melodramatic attention whore nature of Crystal Hlt-a-ton Pseudo-nich.

Then again, who am I to say any of this; to immediately blend the objective nature of this match with my subjective observations of the other four women that oh so obviously outclass me?

I'm glad ya asked.

Not that I wasn't gonna cram it down your throats anyway.

Time flies when you're miserable and locked in your own mind.

She wasn't sure when, but at some point during the rare moment where the two siblings didn't verbally clash, she had moved away from slowly cleaning cleaning the mess that had been made out of their residential area and had moved onto to some other part of the building that had been trashed. In her daze she hadn't noticed the transition trashed campsite to one of the other rooms that she and her brother had spent time on remodeling; from stereotypical trash such as beer bottles to straight up graffiti and debris from walls that had been freshly painted a few days ago. She didn't understand. Just what exactly had she done to deserve such a thing as the destruction of her gym-to-be?

Just.....

Why?

Exhausted more from the mental gymnastics she had been forcing herself through in a vain attempt to figure out an answer, the defeated feeling young woman pressed her back against one of the few spots in the wall that hadn't been utter trashed and slowly slumped to the floor. Wrapping her arms around her legs and hugging them to her chest, she buried her face into the rugged texture of the jeans she wore; struggling to fight the tears welling within her eyes. All she had ever wanted to do was wrestle and open up a place where people could get away from their bullshit lives for a moment; distract themselves from chaotic horseshit the world was hell bent on feeding them. This gym, the thing she had been predominately saving up for over the last two years, had been going to be such a place where people could workout; have those neat little clubs that one might see at a university or college; play host to martial arts classes and even do some pro wrestling stuff.

It had been a long shot, she knew that, but that didn't me the desecration of the place that had been quickly been becoming her sanctuary hurt any less. In her fleeting idolization, she had hoped that one day the little gym would grow into a place where world class events like the Denzel Porter Invitational might one day consider or, at the very least, some similar organization as her would offer to partner up and share ideas and experiences with the community in which they would build. It sounded naively idealistic, but she had truly hoped that one day her miserable existence would do right by people. She was selfish, pigheaded. overly loud and obnoxious, and was more than likely not worth anyone's time as people tended to suggest.

She wanted to be a part something.

Wanted to be a rock that people could lean on.

To be someone in a sport that she held so dearly.

Most of all, she wanted to feel as if she were a human as well.

Yet, all thoughts of anything faded away as the tears began to flood forth.

I'm Jessie Lee.

I'm the big titty goth dommy mommy that you never knew ya NEEDED. I'm the one that's gonna burst the bubble of exception that every naysayer uses as the only justification seems to have in tellin' me that I ain't ever going to amount to shit in this industry. I'm the one that's gonna prove to be more than JUST Hatchet's replacement an' I'm going to give each of those fine femme fatales more of a war than they had ever been expecting to have when they agreed to join in on this opportunity. Last but never least, I'm the literal fuckin' bane of every single competitive warrior that suffers from the backward thinkin' where they're better than everyone around them; the poison to their paradise. Bitch, I'mma be the one walkin' out as the Tis Is Awesome Women's Champion!

YEAH!

That bein' said, I know full well that there are gonna be more than enough sweaty tryhards out there that'll easily disregard this blusterous bravado of mine as their simpin' protocols hit overdrive, and yes, recently things haven't been goin' too grand for me in Action Wrestlin'; you try dealin' with an over the top troll with a fetish for crammin' so-called traditional American values down your throat all the damn time. Plus, the last time I got one of these sorts of multi-promotion opportunities didn't turn out so well an' I spent the entirety of last year locked in my own head about it. So, to me personally, the chance to win this match is a tremendous chance for me to right that ship an' hopefully start mendin' bridges that might give the chance to branch out so that other top class promotions such as Zion, SCW, XWF, or where ever else will allow me to one day pop into their competitive biomes an' thrill the die hard fans that ceaselessly support them.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, Jess. When did ya turn into such a weepy cunt?"

Gingerly running the back of her hand across her face, she wiped away the remnants of the tears that she had been shedding for the better part of the last half hour. She was being hard on herself, she always was and always will be, even so it was hard to deny the fact that she felt remarkably better. Not only about what had happened to her safe space, but what she had been through over the last two years; things that, due to the nature of her schedule, she had never had the opportunity to address. With the weight she never knew was so heavy now lifted, Jessie made her way back to her feet before finally making her way back to the room in which she had seen her brother last; over bloated trash bag in hand.

Enough time had been wasted with self pity party and the basic level of cleaning; Monday Night Clash and the Denzel Porter Invitational were looming and, needless to say, she was now a bit behind when it came to the training that she'd planned; behind and mentally kicking herself for it.

The Denzel Porter Invitational; that was something she was incredibly bummed about missing the first time around in both not having been asked to compete as well as not being quick enough to snag tickets when there had been a chance. Judging from the card that had been advertised at the time and the subsequent videos and clips that had blown up the internet afterwards, she had been perfectly justified in being bummed. Even so, up until a few weeks ago she never imagined that she'd actually ever be presented with the opportunity to be part of something like it; even now there was a part of her that didn't believe it. Yet, here she was, acting as a replacement for the diabolical Molly Hatchet.

She still hadn't any idea why the Mistress of Hatchets backed out.

Nonetheless, her loss was Jessie's gain and she had absolutely no plans of not becoming the first Women's Champion for This Is Awesome; lord knows she owed them for getting her name out there in the first place. However, she hadn't been lying to herself the past several weeks by thinking that it'd be a complete and utter cake walk. the match itself was fairly high in terms of difficulty, but the four other women that'd be competing weren't slouches b any stretch of the word. Zdunich was well over twenty world title reigns and had an explosive second wind in terms of her career when she managed to get a hold of the SPLAT Multiverse strap; something that Jessie still regretted being unable to do. Selena Frost was a certified icon and, at least in her mind, was what Spencer Adams was for Action Wrestling in SCW; MisSCW, as it were. Zara Ivory and Brittani Helms weren't far behind either; both women had a tremendous amount of success behind them and they were unarguably cut from the same cloth as she was; rough, tough, don't give a fuck and always spoiling for a fight.

It was Cliche, and she knew it, but she was thrilled about what was to come at the Invitational; win or lose.

Before any of that, however, she needed to make sure sure Jackie hadn't gotten himself into trouble during her......forced self care break.

She had enough problems to deal with.

So, for those that found it incredibly difficult to follow the fresh word salad that I just served up or if ya're sufferin' from early onset dementia.

I'm Jessie Lee.

The Aussie Assault.

The Horrorkore Hottie.

The young blood set to make one hell of a splash at your expense when I topple for top contenders in NY Wrestlin' promotion!

Yet, most of all, I am the fIRST TIA Women's Champion!

Now, let's fuckin' go.

]]>

A task that I'm more than up for.

"What. The. Fuck."

"It'll be fine, Jess. Don't worry."

Unable to look her brother in the eye, Jessie shrugged off his meek attempt at comforting her as she swept his hand off her shoulder in a brisk movement.

"Don't, Jack. Just. Don't."

"Bloody fuckin' hell, Jess. When did ya turn into such a weepy cunt?"

]]> <![CDATA[Marcus Ka'Derrion vs. A Self Made Coward]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45728 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 16:24:28 -0800 "Venom" Xavier Lux]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45728 I can’t remember the last time I was at a hospital as a visitor, let alone as a patient. But here I lay in a hospital bed, unable to move, with bandages wrapping my head tightly and medical tubes coming out of my nose and mouth. I faintly feel some needles piercing the skin of my right arm and left hand as well, and I guess that’s a good sign because it means I am not paralyzed. Even though I can’t open my eyes just yet, I can see myself laying in this bed, swollen, full of bruises… Specially in my face and neck area… Not sure how long I’ve been here, and while I have a ton of questions, the main ones running through my head are: “who put me in here?” and “how long until I can get out to get me some sweet revenge?” I think hard but that just causes more internal pain around my cerebellum as I want to force my body to move, but it can’t, or it won’t.. again, I’m not paralyzed, but I guess I’m too weak to do so. My back throbs softly, but that pain I can manage… Frustrated I try to relax, to clear my mind, and then it hits me…..

Almost a Month Ago…

|+|“CCPE vs. The World” Pay-Per-View – The CCPE Arena @ The Velvet Rabbit - Las Vegas, Nevada | 1.22.23 | Shane Donovan has attacked Xavier Lux and Jack Sullivan after their match, purely out of jealousy; but what he did next was completely unexpected… He attacked Marcus ~who was at ring side to support his tag team partner~ with a steel chair, driving it directly into his chest. Shane would then pull him over the guard rail, toss him into the ring steps before removing the top stairs and laying Marcus on it on his stomach. Shane would then grab the chair again and bring it down across Ka’Derrion’s back repeatedly before placing it onto Marcus’ head. Shane would then do the unthinkable as the crowd watched in horror, climbing up onto the apron, leaping off and stomping the chair down onto Marcus’ head! Security arrived, but like usual, they were too late, and the damage had been done.|+|

|+|Marcus wakes up in his hospital bed, his body shaking in anger and his almost bloodshot eyes full of rage…|+|

DO-NO-VAN!!!!!

|+|His body continues to shake uncontrollably; monitors and alarms are going off in his room as nurses and medical staff rush in to assist and to keep him down as he is trying to get up, but they can’t control him.|+|

Doctor: We need some help in here!

|+|Paco and Xavier try to rush in, but they are held back by the nurses, telling them they are not allowed in. Security guards along with a few more nurses move past them to help as that scene fades away. |+|

Present Day…

|+|It’s daytime, Marcus sits on a wheelchair, at the edge of a cliff which is properly fenced but overlooks Malibu Beach. He appears lost in thought and is just staring into the ocean. Behind him it’s a gorgeous reflective pool, a good 20 yards long and behind that a facility of sorts. He is wearing blue Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses that cover likely his still bruised eyes but at least the swelling around his face has gone down tremendously. He wears a gray robe with matching gray crocs, but what grabs your attention is the initials “CM” on the right breast pocket of the robe. No, his initials haven't been inverted, these initials stand for Cliffside Malibu, a rehabilitation center for ‘the stars’ who are wanting (or being forced by a court order) to get over their alcohol or drug problems. Marcus doesn’t have these problems as far as the fans know, for them, he must be here to simply get away from it all… He comes back to reality and begins speaking out loud about the man that put him in the predicament he finds himself in. |+|

Shane, Shane, Shane… Now-a-days you call yourself the ‘man-made-monster’ but all I see after the stunt you pulled a few weeks ago is a ‘self-made-coward’.

|+|Marcus adjusts himself in the chair, maybe still feeling uncomfortable after the attack. |+|

I decided to make a public appearance for the first time in a year to show my support for Xavier Lux, a man I recently made amends with after trying to kill each other for months prior to that. I was there to watch my tag team partner in a match where he is supposed to launch this ‘one of a kind’ rookie and for some damn reason you had a problem with this. I have been told that you were mad at this kid for taking your spot, really? I don’t know her at all, but I know of her father and he was great in his own right… But she, at this age, is amazing… She not only took the fight to Xavier, who, despite having what he thinks is a shit 2022, is still at the top of his game, but she beat him. That kid has a bright future while you, well the future is looking bleak isn’t it? She’s sprinting her way up while you are rolling downhill without being able to stop… Are you mad because deep down inside you know that she put on a much better showing than you ever could against Xavier? Did you hear how hot the crowd was for that match? Someone like you could never generate that much heat no matter how hard Xavier tried to carry you.

|+|He smirks.|+|

What are you even doing still wrestling? You should be retired, you should have been long gone from the spotlight or at least doing exactly what Xavier was doing, putting the young talent over and letting the kids shine… But nah, you haven’t changed one bit… I remember you being just as salty and protective of your damn spot when you had to face someone like me back in the day in GCWA… Then I was the young kid trying to reach the top of the mountain… I was the prodigy… I was the legacy… I was the hot new talent and instead of being the proud veteran, recognizing my talent and helping the young kid out, you were the veteran who couldn’t let go of his pride and made my life a living hell.

|+|Marcus removes his sunglasses, and we still see some bruising, mainly around the left eye but both eyes are still quite red.|+|

Well, what happened that fateful night when you and I faced for both my Intercontinental Championship and your World Heavyweight Championship? That’s right, I beat you… Nah, I defeated you… We went a full hour, a full wrestling hour and when it was all said and done, the kid had gotten the best of you…

|+|He smirks again and then closes his eyes.|+|

You know I had not thought about that match in years, but after you viciously attacked me you have brought all those memories back. I can close my eyes right now and see that match so clearly and vividly, especially the ending, as if I had travelled back in time to…

Fourteen years ago…

|+|“Ultimate Survival” Pay-Per-View, Toyota Center - Houston, Texas | 5.17.09 | It’s the closing minutes of the match Marcus just referenced, an iron-man match, where Marcus just tied the match at three pins a piece with less than three minutes to go. Marcus and Donovan exchange a lot of close pins, they delivery some high impact moves while counter others… With 30 seconds to go, Marcus got the upper hand and hit “The Punisher!” finisher, which back then was a Crucifix Powerbomb… and as the last seconds died, Marcus got the pin that gave him the 4-3 win. The fans went wild, the ref handed him both the World Heavyweight and the Intercontinental Championships as fireworks went off in the arena. |+|

|+|Marcus opens his eyes and smiles brightly, but then grimaces as clearly there is some discomfort still on his cheekbones. |+|

Last night, for the very first time ever, I watched the match fully from beginning to end. One of the announcers saying what an epic come-from-behind victory it was… and how proud my father must have been watching from the heavens above, watching his son reaching the same plateau as his father.

|+|He pauses briefly, clearly remember his father, and smiles.|+|

How sweet of a moment it was, for our family, for me, but clearly, you are still oh so bitter even after all this time. What a sad man you are.

Sad and pathetic.

I’ve watched the footage of your attack from CCPE vs. The World, and what were you yelling at me as they hauled you away?

You said I stole your moment? No, I took it from you by being the better wrestler that night… For sixty minutes you and I wrestled, and I showed the world that I belonged. With every blow, with every punch and kick, with every wrestling move and with every pin I put together that moment and took it from you fair and square. It was my moment to shine at the Ultimate Survival pay-per-view and how appropriate that it was named that because I was the ultimate survivor.. I know I said I beat you and I defeated you, but I am humble enough to admit that I also survived you… I outlasted the great Shane Donovan, “The Face of His Generation” and I took his World Heavyweight championship.

|+|He pauses as something off in the distance catches his eye. He stares at it briefly, but before we can find out what it is, he continues. |+|

You also said I took your glory? No, I earned it. That night, after it was all said and done and my arm was raised in victory, I was no longer in my father’s shadow… I was no longer Punisher’s kid riding his father’s coattails but my own man. I might have been “his” legacy, but the glory was all mine… All the work I put in, going from a computer nerd behind a desk to a professional wrestler winning his first world championship in just over four months. Those are the type of stories that get written about and are told for decades to come… When someone talks about Marcus Ka’Derrion’s glory days, they will point to that match as the genesis of my glory.

|+|He puts his sunglasses back on.|+|

Lastly, you said I didn’t even want it. At first, I didn’t, you’re right… I didn’t want my father’s life… I didn’t want to be a wrestler… I didn’t want to follow in his large footsteps…. My first match was laughable, the few matches that followed were hard to watch I’m told but imagine how hard it was for me to wrestle them. I wanted to quit, I wanted to go back to my desk job, I wanted to get as far from the wrestling ring as I possibly could. But once I gave into the business… once I put in the work, once I earned my first real victory, when I earned my first title shot, then I started to want it… no, I craved it.. Nah, I LOVED IT. When I become the Intercontinental Champion, that was proof to me not only that I could do this, not only that I belonged, but that I was good at this… I know it eats you alive, but the truth of the matter is that I was a natural born talent… So, by the time you and I faced off for you World Title, you better believe that I wanted to rip it away from your hands Shane…

|+|Something flies up to Marcus, and it is now clear that this is what he was staring at earlier from a far. It is a drone, carrying a package, which it drops gently on Marcus’ laps. Marcus begins opening the box as the drone flies away. Once Marcus works his way through the stuffing, he takes out a velvet bag, unties it and then pulls from it the GCWA World Heavyweight Title…. Complete with his name plate on it.|+|

…and I did.

|+|He puts the title over his shoulder and takes a deep breath, then as he exhales, he can’t help but smile.|+|

Feels good, like it never left my shoulder…

|+|He keeps it there, but then sighs, as clearly he remembers something else that is not as pleasant as the memory of his victory. |+|

You and I never faced again… I honestly cannot recall why, I was in GCWA for a long time, but we never crossed paths again and whether it was because GCWA closed its doors, or whatever the reason, I never saw you again… Frankly, until a few weeks ago, I had not thought of you at all. They say history only remembers the winners and not the losers, and that is why you had been forgotten. But now I can’t get you out of my damn head… I know it’s been a long time and you have kept wrestling while I have been in and out of the sport… But I want you to think about something long and hard Shane… If you couldn’t beat me in an Iron-man match when I was just a few months in the business… What in the hell makes you think that you’ll be able to defeat me now that I am a “veteran?”

|+|He pauses, as if expecting an actual answer but none comes… This place is actually very quiet for the time of the day, but that’s likely one of the reasons Marcus chose it. He continues.|+|

Oh I get it, you saw a man you haven’t seen in over a decade wearing a suit and thought: “look at this pencil neck geek, I’ll make quick work of him, watch.” Well, like the expression goes Shane, never judge a book by its cover.

|+|Marcus puts the GCWA title to the side, it landing without making a sound on the freshly mown grass. He then reaches down, to slide the pedals holding his feet up out of the way. He then stands up, pushing himself off he wheelchair by the handles. Once he is fully upright, he proceeds to remove his robe and tosses it aside to reveal a well-toned body, do not worry he’s not naked, wearing white shorts with the same initials on them. He’s no “Marvelous” Mike Mason, but clearly Marcus Ka’Derrion has kept himself in great shape despite not having a match in close to a year. He removes something from his eyes, contacts, and we see his eyes are just fine. He flexes a little to show that his body is actually not feeling any ill effects from Donovan’s attack. |+|

I know you haven’t been keeping up with me for a long time and you think the last time I wrestled was over a decade ago. But I told you I came back to GCWA in 2020, and I told you I took on Xavier last year in a steel cage match… A year is a long time, but do not assume I have been just sitting on my ass in front of a computer, the only preparation I really need to do is buy myself a bull rope..

There is no need, I got one right here for you.

|+|Marcus turns to find one of his few friends in this world, a man who managed his father, and at some point, him as well: Paco “The Drinking Time Bomb” Perez. |+|

Paco, thanks for this… and for coming to see me.

|+|Paco gives him the bag holding the bull rope and Marcus puts it on the chair for now, and then embraces the old man. They break off and pat each other on the shoulder, clearly it’s been a while since they have seen each other. Marcus looks inside the bag and takes out the bull rope, admiring it like a kid admires the Christmas gift Santa got him. |+|

You know you don’t have to thank me Marcus, but I gotta ask, what are you doing in a place like this?

Recovering.

But why not go to a medical facility, they can’t possibly have what you need here? There is nothing but people who can’t handle their liquor or drugs for that matter.

|+|Marcus pauses, seeming hesitant to answer the question or even respond to Paco’s comment… He rubs his right wrist as he thinks about his answer, but he decides to leave that story for another day, and instead plays it safe by making a joke.|+|

You know nobody can handle their liquor like you Paco.

Ha! Ain’t that the truth mi’jo. So, when are they going to release you from here so we can go begin your training?

Training? Paco, I strap on the rope to my wrist and proceed to beat the living crap out of Shane Donovan with it… No training needed.

Well, true, but doesn’t hurt to have a strategy...

|+|Before Marcus can answer, a nurse approaches, carrying an envelope in her hands. She excuses herself and then hands the envelope to Marcus. He thanks her and then waits for her to leave to open it; once she is far enough, he opens the envelope and reads what appears to be a doctor’s note. As he finishes reading it, he smiles. |+|

What is it Marcus?

My release papers. There is nothing stopping me now from making Shane Donovan feel my pain a week from now… Let’s go.

|+|As he walks away with Paco, he picks up the GCWA title and throws it over his shoulder with the plate part sitting on his back so Shane can get one last good look at it.|+|

Word count: 2999 via wordcounter.net

]]> I can’t remember the last time I was at a hospital as a visitor, let alone as a patient. But here I lay in a hospital bed, unable to move, with bandages wrapping my head tightly and medical tubes coming out of my nose and mouth. I faintly feel some needles piercing the skin of my right arm and left hand as well, and I guess that’s a good sign because it means I am not paralyzed. Even though I can’t open my eyes just yet, I can see myself laying in this bed, swollen, full of bruises… Specially in my face and neck area… Not sure how long I’ve been here, and while I have a ton of questions, the main ones running through my head are: “who put me in here?” and “how long until I can get out to get me some sweet revenge?” I think hard but that just causes more internal pain around my cerebellum as I want to force my body to move, but it can’t, or it won’t.. again, I’m not paralyzed, but I guess I’m too weak to do so. My back throbs softly, but that pain I can manage… Frustrated I try to relax, to clear my mind, and then it hits me…..

Almost a Month Ago…

Present Day…

Fourteen years ago…

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]]> <![CDATA[Eyes Open]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45727 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 16:08:53 -0800 cblack]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45727 Two men exit an unassuming building in bustling New York City, people jam pack the sidewalk and the traffic is nearly impassable. A third emerges shortly after, he turns and puts a key into the lock and pulls down a rolling gate from overhead, locking that into place as well. The first two men walk to their left, the third to his right.

Corey Black's face is stoic, but his eyes wide. Darting from left to right, he's looking all around him. People coming at him, people beside, people behind, he is getting nervous. Claustrophobic. He puts his head down and tries to walk forward but he bumps into a mass of humanity in front, the mass behind him hits him now, crushing him against his will right there on the sidewalk. He can't move, his breathing is inhibited, sweat forms on his brow, his breaths become quick and shallow. Pushing from behind, the side, the front, all angles just squeezing everything out of him. His movement is stunted, unable to function. The unending force becoming too much to bare, he can feel his bones almost snapping in half throughout his entire body, his brain feels like it'll explode through his eyeballs, the unequivocal dread of imminent ceasing to be!

Silence. Corey stops breathing entirely, his thoughts drift away and his body loosens.

Pressure?

That's what it's going to be? Goddamn pressure? This is Corey FUCKING Black.

A guttural roar from within Corey Black emerges through his mouth, he presses forward with his arms and all his might - the people in front of him literally disintegrate. He shakes his head and blinks a couple times, people dust falling to the ground before him. Corey looks behind, same thing, just nothingness. His breathing slows, eyes widen. The beautiful sky closes with cloud cover, blocking the view to the heavens.

His hoodie covering him once again, Corey regains his composure and once again begins walking toward his destination, skipping the train stop and opting for the scenic route, devoid of humanity all together in the first city in the world you think of when someone asks you about overpopulation.

It's a peaceful walk, in his own world, even though his worry is clearly written across his face. Without the pressure of the outside world upon him, but nobody around, he begins to speak as he walks, talking to nobody in particular but everyone at once.

"I could be complacent, continuing my legacy at home. Riding my wave until I'm ready to hop off the surfboard. Where's the adventure there? I'd have endless trolls bemoaning the validity of the things I say - everything earned, just not earned where they saw it. A trope that needs to be eradicated from our profession. I acknowledge the accomplishments and acumen of Kido-san. I take nothing from his path to our contest.

I've already got a long list of detractors, telling Kido-san not to knock me out too fast and have a 'dud' of a main event. I get it, I'm still some unproven commodity in the general landscape just because I don't frolic around in ten companies and lose interest in nine of them within a month.

There is a reason why this main event exists. And it isn't because of the hardly out of rookie year phenomenon. It's because the main event wanted to fight him. End of story. The narrative stops there.

It isn't enough that I've had some of the biggest names come through and try to take me down. It will never be viewed as a positive that I am consistently at these events at the top of the card. I was team captain for the Tara Fenix Charity Show by accident, my team all bailed. I scrounged up some friends and - well enemies - and we went to fucking work. The year before my team had no heartbeat until I stepped up. I made a lifelong friend from it yet garnered NO RESPECT. I walked into Chris Page's woman's house and tore his skin from his bones. NO RESPECT. I walked in again and nearly humbled SEB's unable to humble ass. NO RESPECT. Seem familiar?

Kido-san, I do respect you. But goddamn man, I ain't going easy on you just because of that. I've got the world's eyes on me once again and when that happens, I absolutely do not miss. You've had a small taste of that this is but let me be clear - there will be a vast majority that won't give you the credit you are due.

I am not one of those people. Not by a long shot. Real recognizes real, Kido-san.

I don't do this for the ego boost or the distorted leak of serotonin given when you send a mean tweet. Those people, those not like you and I, they will never know the glory of combat the way we do. What it does to you when you're able to outmatch, out fight and out grit someone to put them down for the three count or make them submit. You fight for a higher one than yourself - I understand that. I once did too. It was my goal to be rendered unable to fight anymore within the ring, a noble mission that I have now abandoned. My journey will end, just as yours will. But this is where we will finally differ.

Do I or do I not currently have a pulse?

Yes I do.

Let's fucking fight.

I decide my destiny. You follow a path laid out in front of you. I recognize what I need to do to be better and actively pursue it. Living in a lavish apartment, a castle, that shit is for the fucks that would still look down upon us, Kido-san. We do what we do for the love of it. Yet what you have in talent and vigor you absolutely LACK in seasoning.

The stuff that makes men like me - well, me. I've been here before, countless times, name in lights and even though the provocation is sometimes overwhelming, I've never not stood strong. Salt, pepper, paprika, everything in the cabinet is in my arsenal, there's nothing I don't know. Show me that you can do what you say you can Kido-san, prove to me and the world that when the eyes peer hardest, hands are closing around you and the test ahead is unlike anything you've ever come across - show us what the Saint of Athena should be talked about among the pantheon of this sport.

If you can.

Deathproof isn't some fucking stupid nickname, Kido-san. I've literally survived the cold embrace of the reaper's clutches more times than I can count and yet here I stand, still willing to fight the Lion. I've lived ten times more lives than every person you have ever come across inside this ring. That's what makes me who I am. Nothing surprises me, nothing you can do will make me off-guard and there's no defense for when I drive my elbow through the crown of your skull. For victory or for death, Kido-san. You choose your fate for once.

It'll take more than burning the cosmos to take me down, Kido-san. You can tell yourself you're ready all you want, you can kneel with your rosary and hope those above will guide you to your goal.. and I'll be there standing between you and everlasting glory. It's mine to take, not yours. You will not grasp the one thing I hold higher than anything.. the respect that comes with victory. Respect from within, your lord knows we'll never get it anywhere else. The sweet taste of a win, knowing that on this day, the Lion couldn't roar with the man of death. You'll continue on, you have a tournament to win. I will soldier through as well, the Action Wrestling Tag Titles are within my sights.

I won't forget this contest, no matter how it goes. As much as your peers want to write me off, I hope you know better. Look beyond the rough surface and see me for what I am, just as I do for you. When this is all said and done, I hope you and I will shake hands. I hope you will take me up on my offer to come by the Dojo and I will be honored to stand by your side any time you need me, should the situation call for it.

This narrative that has been built around me, the whispers from the darkness of demons and monsters - it's a life I have left behind me. One that I bare the scars from, the trauma from and learned something very special from. My will is stronger than any. The will to live, to fight and to win. You don't deserve anything that is coming to you in Las Vegas - but it isn't personal. It's a lesson. From a veteran to a budding star, one that will hopefully no longer be overlooked.. your wounds will heal, your spirit and resolve will eventually prevail. What you take from this is what is important. I hope it is kinship, not malice.

But between the bells, Lion.

I am going to fucking destroy you.

Good luck, Kido-san."

Corey stops talking as he comes up on a familiar block. He looks around, even into the window of the strip club next door to his apartment - nobody inside. He breathes in deep as he heads through the red door to his complex, then up a couple flights of stairs and into his place. It's old, shitty even. Through the entry way, his living room and into the bedroom - a bunch of wires clearly hang from the top, a ceiling fan shattered into pieces on the floor. Corey did that, he just hasn't cleaned it up yet. A purple and blue glow comes in through his bedroom window, the sign of the strip club is right outside.

He sits on his ratty couch and just looks ahead, thinking about where he's been and where he's going. Why he's living in such a rundown place when he could afford to live pretty much anywhere on Earth. Why there's a packed city with no people in it.. his eyes grow heavy. A blink becomes a rest becomes sleep. Eyes closed, off to dreamland where the mind takes over.

Seconds pass, seemingly, but the darkened sky is replaced with a new day, the sun now radiates in from every window. Corey snaps awake, unintentionally sleeping through the night. He stands though, stretching and his back cracks three, four, five times. Neck too, twisting his head violently each direction to release the tension. And his eyes.. remain closed. Unwillingly. Panic begins setting in, Corey clawing at his face. Moments last forever, Corey drops to his knees and settles himself. His mind races through the what ifs and whys and hows.. until it doesn't. His panicked state fades, he sits back on his heels and stops trying to open his eyes, instead focusing on his thoughts. What's within him. What drives him. What makes him who he is.

Pressure?

That's what it's going to be? Goddamn pressure? This is Corey FUCKING Black.

This dude pumps pressure into his veins daily to feel ALIVE.

A smile.. and his eyes open. The world now is bright in front of him, as he lets go of the anguish, standing up and stares forward. Out his window and into the street where the city itself is once again beating like a heart, people line up from every which way. Corey lets out a sharp breath.

"I hear you.. and you won't get the better of me," Corey says, walking over to his entry way once again to grab his shoes. But there's a knock at his door. He opens it, the tall Japanese man from the Dojo stands before him, holding a takeout container of rice and chicken.

"I thought you'd like some breakfast, sensei," the man says, dropping his head a bit and holding the foot out.

"You thought right, Ochiro, would you like to come in?" Corey responds.

"No, thank you," Ochiro says while putting his hands up and backing out the door, "I must get back to the Dojo and begin the day's training. Will I see you there?"

Corey looks down at the food, then out the window into the bright day with a big smile, "yeah, I'll be there soon. Probably won't take the train though so don't wait for me."

Ochiro nods, closing the door behind him as he heads out. Corey sits down on his couch, placing his new meal on the table in front of him. It's hot, steaming, burning even. And he sits. Waiting. Letting the food inside sit and cool. His eyes locked on it, preparing for the right moment to strike. A fork in his hand, Corey pokes the food, scooping some rice up and eating away. As he finishes, a smile comes over him. Maybe from being full, maybe from the previous day's events, but he leans back in his couch and almost falls into it, he sinks so far in.

"Good eats, could have used some seasoning though," Corey says, getting comfortable in New York City - getting comfortable remembering what it was like and why he does what he does.]]> Two men exit an unassuming building in bustling New York City, people jam pack the sidewalk and the traffic is nearly impassable. A third emerges shortly after, he turns and puts a key into the lock and pulls down a rolling gate from overhead, locking that into place as well. The first two men walk to their left, the third to his right.

Corey Black's face is stoic, but his eyes wide. Darting from left to right, he's looking all around him. People coming at him, people beside, people behind, he is getting nervous. Claustrophobic. He puts his head down and tries to walk forward but he bumps into a mass of humanity in front, the mass behind him hits him now, crushing him against his will right there on the sidewalk. He can't move, his breathing is inhibited, sweat forms on his brow, his breaths become quick and shallow. Pushing from behind, the side, the front, all angles just squeezing everything out of him. His movement is stunted, unable to function. The unending force becoming too much to bare, he can feel his bones almost snapping in half throughout his entire body, his brain feels like it'll explode through his eyeballs, the unequivocal dread of imminent ceasing to be!

Silence. Corey stops breathing entirely, his thoughts drift away and his body loosens.

Pressure?

That's what it's going to be? Goddamn pressure? This is Corey FUCKING Black.

A guttural roar from within Corey Black emerges through his mouth, he presses forward with his arms and all his might - the people in front of him literally disintegrate. He shakes his head and blinks a couple times, people dust falling to the ground before him. Corey looks behind, same thing, just nothingness. His breathing slows, eyes widen. The beautiful sky closes with cloud cover, blocking the view to the heavens.

His hoodie covering him once again, Corey regains his composure and once again begins walking toward his destination, skipping the train stop and opting for the scenic route, devoid of humanity all together in the first city in the world you think of when someone asks you about overpopulation.

It's a peaceful walk, in his own world, even though his worry is clearly written across his face. Without the pressure of the outside world upon him, but nobody around, he begins to speak as he walks, talking to nobody in particular but everyone at once.

"I could be complacent, continuing my legacy at home. Riding my wave until I'm ready to hop off the surfboard. Where's the adventure there? I'd have endless trolls bemoaning the validity of the things I say - everything earned, just not earned where they saw it. A trope that needs to be eradicated from our profession. I acknowledge the accomplishments and acumen of Kido-san. I take nothing from his path to our contest.

I've already got a long list of detractors, telling Kido-san not to knock me out too fast and have a 'dud' of a main event. I get it, I'm still some unproven commodity in the general landscape just because I don't frolic around in ten companies and lose interest in nine of them within a month.

There is a reason why this main event exists. And it isn't because of the hardly out of rookie year phenomenon. It's because the main event wanted to fight him. End of story. The narrative stops there.

It isn't enough that I've had some of the biggest names come through and try to take me down. It will never be viewed as a positive that I am consistently at these events at the top of the card. I was team captain for the Tara Fenix Charity Show by accident, my team all bailed. I scrounged up some friends and - well enemies - and we went to fucking work. The year before my team had no heartbeat until I stepped up. I made a lifelong friend from it yet garnered NO RESPECT. I walked into Chris Page's woman's house and tore his skin from his bones. NO RESPECT. I walked in again and nearly humbled SEB's unable to humble ass. NO RESPECT. Seem familiar?

Kido-san, I do respect you. But goddamn man, I ain't going easy on you just because of that. I've got the world's eyes on me once again and when that happens, I absolutely do not miss. You've had a small taste of that this is but let me be clear - there will be a vast majority that won't give you the credit you are due.

I am not one of those people. Not by a long shot. Real recognizes real, Kido-san.

I don't do this for the ego boost or the distorted leak of serotonin given when you send a mean tweet. Those people, those not like you and I, they will never know the glory of combat the way we do. What it does to you when you're able to outmatch, out fight and out grit someone to put them down for the three count or make them submit. You fight for a higher one than yourself - I understand that. I once did too. It was my goal to be rendered unable to fight anymore within the ring, a noble mission that I have now abandoned. My journey will end, just as yours will. But this is where we will finally differ.

Do I or do I not currently have a pulse?

Yes I do.

Let's fucking fight.

I decide my destiny. You follow a path laid out in front of you. I recognize what I need to do to be better and actively pursue it. Living in a lavish apartment, a castle, that shit is for the fucks that would still look down upon us, Kido-san. We do what we do for the love of it. Yet what you have in talent and vigor you absolutely LACK in seasoning.

The stuff that makes men like me - well, me. I've been here before, countless times, name in lights and even though the provocation is sometimes overwhelming, I've never not stood strong. Salt, pepper, paprika, everything in the cabinet is in my arsenal, there's nothing I don't know. Show me that you can do what you say you can Kido-san, prove to me and the world that when the eyes peer hardest, hands are closing around you and the test ahead is unlike anything you've ever come across - show us what the Saint of Athena should be talked about among the pantheon of this sport.

If you can.

Deathproof isn't some fucking stupid nickname, Kido-san. I've literally survived the cold embrace of the reaper's clutches more times than I can count and yet here I stand, still willing to fight the Lion. I've lived ten times more lives than every person you have ever come across inside this ring. That's what makes me who I am. Nothing surprises me, nothing you can do will make me off-guard and there's no defense for when I drive my elbow through the crown of your skull. For victory or for death, Kido-san. You choose your fate for once.

It'll take more than burning the cosmos to take me down, Kido-san. You can tell yourself you're ready all you want, you can kneel with your rosary and hope those above will guide you to your goal.. and I'll be there standing between you and everlasting glory. It's mine to take, not yours. You will not grasp the one thing I hold higher than anything.. the respect that comes with victory. Respect from within, your lord knows we'll never get it anywhere else. The sweet taste of a win, knowing that on this day, the Lion couldn't roar with the man of death. You'll continue on, you have a tournament to win. I will soldier through as well, the Action Wrestling Tag Titles are within my sights.

I won't forget this contest, no matter how it goes. As much as your peers want to write me off, I hope you know better. Look beyond the rough surface and see me for what I am, just as I do for you. When this is all said and done, I hope you and I will shake hands. I hope you will take me up on my offer to come by the Dojo and I will be honored to stand by your side any time you need me, should the situation call for it.

This narrative that has been built around me, the whispers from the darkness of demons and monsters - it's a life I have left behind me. One that I bare the scars from, the trauma from and learned something very special from. My will is stronger than any. The will to live, to fight and to win. You don't deserve anything that is coming to you in Las Vegas - but it isn't personal. It's a lesson. From a veteran to a budding star, one that will hopefully no longer be overlooked.. your wounds will heal, your spirit and resolve will eventually prevail. What you take from this is what is important. I hope it is kinship, not malice.

But between the bells, Lion.

I am going to fucking destroy you.

Good luck, Kido-san."

Corey stops talking as he comes up on a familiar block. He looks around, even into the window of the strip club next door to his apartment - nobody inside. He breathes in deep as he heads through the red door to his complex, then up a couple flights of stairs and into his place. It's old, shitty even. Through the entry way, his living room and into the bedroom - a bunch of wires clearly hang from the top, a ceiling fan shattered into pieces on the floor. Corey did that, he just hasn't cleaned it up yet. A purple and blue glow comes in through his bedroom window, the sign of the strip club is right outside.

He sits on his ratty couch and just looks ahead, thinking about where he's been and where he's going. Why he's living in such a rundown place when he could afford to live pretty much anywhere on Earth. Why there's a packed city with no people in it.. his eyes grow heavy. A blink becomes a rest becomes sleep. Eyes closed, off to dreamland where the mind takes over.

Seconds pass, seemingly, but the darkened sky is replaced with a new day, the sun now radiates in from every window. Corey snaps awake, unintentionally sleeping through the night. He stands though, stretching and his back cracks three, four, five times. Neck too, twisting his head violently each direction to release the tension. And his eyes.. remain closed. Unwillingly. Panic begins setting in, Corey clawing at his face. Moments last forever, Corey drops to his knees and settles himself. His mind races through the what ifs and whys and hows.. until it doesn't. His panicked state fades, he sits back on his heels and stops trying to open his eyes, instead focusing on his thoughts. What's within him. What drives him. What makes him who he is.

Pressure?

That's what it's going to be? Goddamn pressure? This is Corey FUCKING Black.

This dude pumps pressure into his veins daily to feel ALIVE.

A smile.. and his eyes open. The world now is bright in front of him, as he lets go of the anguish, standing up and stares forward. Out his window and into the street where the city itself is once again beating like a heart, people line up from every which way. Corey lets out a sharp breath.

"I hear you.. and you won't get the better of me," Corey says, walking over to his entry way once again to grab his shoes. But there's a knock at his door. He opens it, the tall Japanese man from the Dojo stands before him, holding a takeout container of rice and chicken.

"I thought you'd like some breakfast, sensei," the man says, dropping his head a bit and holding the foot out.

"You thought right, Ochiro, would you like to come in?" Corey responds.

"No, thank you," Ochiro says while putting his hands up and backing out the door, "I must get back to the Dojo and begin the day's training. Will I see you there?"

Corey looks down at the food, then out the window into the bright day with a big smile, "yeah, I'll be there soon. Probably won't take the train though so don't wait for me."

Ochiro nods, closing the door behind him as he heads out. Corey sits down on his couch, placing his new meal on the table in front of him. It's hot, steaming, burning even. And he sits. Waiting. Letting the food inside sit and cool. His eyes locked on it, preparing for the right moment to strike. A fork in his hand, Corey pokes the food, scooping some rice up and eating away. As he finishes, a smile comes over him. Maybe from being full, maybe from the previous day's events, but he leans back in his couch and almost falls into it, he sinks so far in.

"Good eats, could have used some seasoning though," Corey says, getting comfortable in New York City - getting comfortable remembering what it was like and why he does what he does.]]> <![CDATA[When A Saint Opens His Eyes]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45725 Sat, 18 Feb 2023 15:11:54 -0800 Raion Kido]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45725 “Perhaps Mr. Corey Black’s eyes truly are closed.”

One would think, given the circumstances, that the Action Wrestling superstar would take a less casual approach given the stature of this match. If not for Raion Kido himself, at least for the Main Event of Denzel Porter Invitational’s Night Two.

“He may be doing this for the pleasure of it, but for me, this is vindication.”

Too many times had he been taken for granted as just another novelty star in a showcase, but this eventually had to end. Despite his outward image and the manga influence, the Lion meant every word he said and action he did, and the Denzel Porter Invitational would be the stage where he may evolve from a simple novelty act.

He was meant to be a legend - and this would be its first page.

“And I’m going to show him just what happens when a Saint opens his eyes!”

So ran the thoughts inside Raion Kido’s head as he stared at the Las Vegas Luxor Obelisk. It was late afternoon, and the sun was going down, but even in the dim light of the remaining rays of the sun, the Egyptian-like iconography made a deep impression in the Lion’s brain - from the Sphinx that made the resort’s entrance, to the hieroglyph-carved granite monument that marked its location to the world.

“Well, not quite like the original thing, but it’s still very beautiful!”

“Quite so, sir! Admittedly it used to be more Egyptian-themed in the past, but it still retains the parts that made it what it is.”

The tour guide that was accompanying Raion and Ryleigh in their tour of Vegas’ attractions smiled proudly.

“Tell me, do you know anything about Egypt? Why the pyramids and the obelisks are the way that they are?”

Raion returns a beaming smile of his own.

“They were more than mere monuments to the glory of their pharaohs and leaders. In fact, there was more to them that met the eye. Everything about them was for a reason - whether their location, or orientation. In fact, astronomy played a very big part in their construction. For example, they were used to point at sunrise and sunset - look at the sun going down, right through the point of this obelisk!”

Indeed, the obelisk points to the solar disk in the distance, slowly going down as if right through it.

“Exactly! You seem to be very knowledgeable about ancient monuments.”

“Comes with what I do, sir. I’m all about the ancient world - after all, I am supposed to be a Saint of Athena!”

The two men break into a hearty laugh about their shared knowledge.

“But as it turns out, obelisks were not just about religious symbolism or astronomical measurements. The hieroglyphs in them were more than mere art as well - they were, in fact, the key to translating hieroglyphs in pyramids.

So in a way, it could be said that obelisks are, in more ways than one, some sort of illumination. A way to tell, to teach people something - to pass on a message, to open people’s eyes.

It’s that same thing that I try to do, in my own little quirky way. You see my gold cloth and my manga references, but I’m here to transmit a message to the world - that everything is possible if you elevate your spirit, and be the best that you can be. You can make miracles, and be a hero, if you try hard enough.

And it is my hope that people see that, in time. This obelisk, and the pyramid, and the Sphinx of the Luxor were made as a replica of those in Egypt, but I don’t think all of this crossed the minds of the people that made it!”

“Well, I suppose not, but that doesn’t mean it’s of less value because of that.”

The Lion raises a hand apologetically.

“Of course not, sir! I’m just saying that all this is much more enjoyable if we know the real story behind it. Art is art, but sometimes it helps to know why something was made and why it was made the way that it was.

That’s something I struggle with in my profession on a daily basis, sir. For example, my next opponent is someone to whom this has not crossed his mind.

He speaks of art, and of integrity, and dignity, and honor, but he doesn’t know that there’s much more to Raion Kido than that.”

The Lion now closes his eyes, drawing a heavy sigh. This was a wall through which he had not yet been able to get past. From the World Series of Wrestling to CCPE vs. the World, it seemed that he was only there for the beauty of it all, but it did not seem to matter what he did or said - few would look at him through the outward image.

It was time for a change - and for Corey Black to learn what it really meant to face a Saint of Athena.

It was time for Corey Black to open his eyes - and for the Lion to open his own.

“So it is my hope that, when we are done, someone with his experience has learned what it means to go against someone like me.”

And as the Lion opens his eyes, the Obelisk and the Pyramid illuminate in the dimming light of the sunset - now becoming shining beacons of light in an otherwise darkening world.

“I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor, Mr. Kido!”

Raion extends his hand, which the guide doesn’t take long to shake.

“I do guarantee one thing, sir - one way or another, Corey Black shall be certain to open his eyes!”

The young Saint of Athena places the golden box of his Leo Cloth on the ground, and promptly opens it up.

“It’s time to bring Mr. Deathproof, and everyone watching the Denzel Porter Invitational, an illumination!”

And as brightly, and as intensely, as the Luxor monuments shine, so does the Lion’s cosmos burn…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re in the Main Event of the Denzel Porter Invitational, an event which gathers the cream of the crop of professional wrestling in the eyes of the most prestigious journalist in the business.

You know that this event is held once a year, and that it is therefore a special occasion. You are the self-proclaimed measuring stick of wrestling - plenty of people say that, but I’m coming at this in good faith, so let’s assume it’s the truth - and a certified veteran, and you go against someone who, at this very time last year, was but a nobody.

Surely you’d try to at least get serious.”

Thus the Lion begins, as the Luxor Las Vegas pyramid illuminates, and a mighty beam shoots to the sky. The Golden Cloth he wears shines as brightly in the night as the pyramid behind him, as does the glint in his eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Black. I appreciate your challenge and your respect for who and what I am, as well as for my country - a refreshing change from having to hear endless jokes about nuclear bombs or sexual deviancy. But it’s exactly because of that, Mr. Corey, that I made my first address. I quite clearly stated I did not come here merely for the honors, but to perform my charge as a Saint of Athena. After all, you said this yourself, did you not? This is about respect, because none of us require any other trappings than the things in which we believe regardless of who stands on the other side.

This is about respect because of the business, of the wrestling game itself. I’ve made certain to come to this match with that very thing in mind, for that glorious contest which you, yourself, sought.

And what do I get in return? I get a bunch of empty platitudes!”

The Saint of Athena lets out a roar worthy of the beast whose sign he carries. Daemon or no, if Corey Black sought to cow him with talk of blood, it was Raion Kido’s charge to show him the error of his ways.

“I get you posturing about your dark and menacing aura, about how you don’t like hurting people, but you’ll do it anyway! Athena forbid anyone gets hurt in wrestling, that would be completely unheard of! As if I had not even seen blood, or had my own blood spilled in my entire career!

Is this how you address a warrior of hope? Is this how you’re supposed to show you’re the measuring stick, how you show respect to the game? This is no different than what I hear from every other person that fails to realize the might against which they’re up - the power of the cosmos that burns within every single human soul.

I gather that everything about you is meant to cause fear, but you’re going up against someone whose mission it is to eradicate all fear - against a Saint of Athena, the goddess of war that was born with a helmet in her head and a spear in her hand.

People are often puzzled about what that means, and admittedly, it’s from an old Anime show - Saint Seiya, you should watch it. But at the end of it all there is a single thing everyone can understand - the will to rise up regardless of the times that we’re knocked down in pursuit of justice, of a positive change in the world. And against that, there is nothing you can bring, no menace or dark speeches you can make that shall prevent me from performing that charge.

You claim the ring is your canvas and my blood is your ink, but every match Raion Kido has is a creation of its own that always has the same unmistakable signature - the fist of the Lion striking an opponent’s heart for long enough for the official to count the winning pinfall.”

The Lion crosses his fists before his chest, then spreads his arms to his sides in a sudden, explosive motion. If art was what Corey Black wanted to talk about, then Raion would be more than happy to indulge him.

After all, the legacy of the ancient world dwelt within him.

“But there’s something else here, Mr. Black, that should give you pause. Your claim is to be a household name in Action Wrestling, but the Raion Kido you’re facing in 2023 is no longer the rookie of 2022. What you’re facing right now is a household name of the XWF, one of its very best, and one of the very best in the entire world.

Speak to me about last year, as if your victory over Brandon Moore would be something to fear, but everyone that goes back to watch that show shall see that match you had, was just another in the card. Now you’re in the Main Event, at the very top stage of the Denzel Porter Invitational, but it should dawn on you already that that isn’t related to anything you did. In fact, Mr. Black, this match is the Main Event of Night Two not because of “Deathproof” Corey Black - but because of Raion Kido. I am a former Universal Champion in my very first year, and the bearer of the Leap of Faith briefcase - the winner of a match only held once a year. I am one of the final four in the World Series of Wrestling, and one of the few that shall coach this year’s generation.

You’re not the only one here that can teach people a thing or two, and when it is finally time for us to face, I shall then impart to you a lesson about this power I possess, and the limits at which a simple man’s soul can elevate itself.”

The Lion points towards the sky, his arm following the same trajectory as the skybeam from the Luxor pyramid. More than anything he could teach, he made it a point to lead by example.

Concepts like honor and respect were too lightly thrown these days, and for someone like him, those words meant much more than could be explained - they could only be shown in the ring.

This was his way, therefore, of teaching Corey Black what these words, and what challenging him, really meant.

“But above everything else, Mr. Deathproof, I am one of Mr. Denzel Porter’s picks for the Main Event in his show - and the challenge for which you asked. Which is why I cannot, will not, stand for the dedication with which I have approached this match to be reduced to an exchange of pleasantries and some grandstanding about how dark you are.

You speak to me of dignity, throw around words like honor and integrity as if they were but mere buzzwords, and warn me not to mistake courtesy for weakness, but what I see here is someone who walks into a Main Event, against an opponent of his own desire, and chooses to take him lightly.

And that, I simply cannot abide.”

The young Japanese wrestler’s upward arm now comes down into a straight point at the camera, as his lips peel back and his canines are displayed once more.

“And that is why I come into this match bringing illumination. That thorn you mean to sink into my flesh shall only be turned aside, and in the end, what shall drive into your flesh are the fangs of the Lion - and with them, the realization that you came into this match unprepared.

You spoke to me of iron, but against you stands gold - the noblest metal of all, and one that iron cannot touch. And whether the Lightning Bolt stops your heart cold, the Lightning Plasma reduces you into a twitching, quivering mass, or the Heaven’s Treasure removes your senses one by one, your closed eyes will be opened just for long enough for you to achieve a sense of clarity that shall be the last experience before you finally lose consciousness:

That Raion Kido is not here to make you a check mark, or a conquest, but rather, to make your universe explode - just as he does his own.”

His pointed arm now turned into a clenched fist, the Lion now closes his eyes. It was finally time for Corey Black to understand that the challenge was not for Raion Kido.

In all truth, the challenge really was for him.

“So here we go. Denzel Porter Invitational, MGM Grand, Las Vegas, February 25th. Make yourself ready, Mr. Black…”

Slowly, but surely, the camera zooms to a close-up of the Lion’s face as he slowly opens his eyes.

“… for when a Saint opens his eyes, and his cosmos is unleashed, nothing may withstand his onslaught.”

Fade to black.

2500 words (wordcounter.net)]]> “Perhaps Mr. Corey Black’s eyes truly are closed.”

One would think, given the circumstances, that the Action Wrestling superstar would take a less casual approach given the stature of this match. If not for Raion Kido himself, at least for the Main Event of Denzel Porter Invitational’s Night Two.

“He may be doing this for the pleasure of it, but for me, this is vindication.”

Too many times had he been taken for granted as just another novelty star in a showcase, but this eventually had to end. Despite his outward image and the manga influence, the Lion meant every word he said and action he did, and the Denzel Porter Invitational would be the stage where he may evolve from a simple novelty act.

He was meant to be a legend - and this would be its first page.

“And I’m going to show him just what happens when a Saint opens his eyes!”

So ran the thoughts inside Raion Kido’s head as he stared at the Las Vegas Luxor Obelisk. It was late afternoon, and the sun was going down, but even in the dim light of the remaining rays of the sun, the Egyptian-like iconography made a deep impression in the Lion’s brain - from the Sphinx that made the resort’s entrance, to the hieroglyph-carved granite monument that marked its location to the world.

“Well, not quite like the original thing, but it’s still very beautiful!”

“Quite so, sir! Admittedly it used to be more Egyptian-themed in the past, but it still retains the parts that made it what it is.”

The tour guide that was accompanying Raion and Ryleigh in their tour of Vegas’ attractions smiled proudly.

“Tell me, do you know anything about Egypt? Why the pyramids and the obelisks are the way that they are?”

Raion returns a beaming smile of his own.

“They were more than mere monuments to the glory of their pharaohs and leaders. In fact, there was more to them that met the eye. Everything about them was for a reason - whether their location, or orientation. In fact, astronomy played a very big part in their construction. For example, they were used to point at sunrise and sunset - look at the sun going down, right through the point of this obelisk!”

Indeed, the obelisk points to the solar disk in the distance, slowly going down as if right through it.

“Exactly! You seem to be very knowledgeable about ancient monuments.”

“Comes with what I do, sir. I’m all about the ancient world - after all, I am supposed to be a Saint of Athena!”

The two men break into a hearty laugh about their shared knowledge.

“But as it turns out, obelisks were not just about religious symbolism or astronomical measurements. The hieroglyphs in them were more than mere art as well - they were, in fact, the key to translating hieroglyphs in pyramids.

So in a way, it could be said that obelisks are, in more ways than one, some sort of illumination. A way to tell, to teach people something - to pass on a message, to open people’s eyes.

It’s that same thing that I try to do, in my own little quirky way. You see my gold cloth and my manga references, but I’m here to transmit a message to the world - that everything is possible if you elevate your spirit, and be the best that you can be. You can make miracles, and be a hero, if you try hard enough.

And it is my hope that people see that, in time. This obelisk, and the pyramid, and the Sphinx of the Luxor were made as a replica of those in Egypt, but I don’t think all of this crossed the minds of the people that made it!”

“Well, I suppose not, but that doesn’t mean it’s of less value because of that.”

The Lion raises a hand apologetically.

“Of course not, sir! I’m just saying that all this is much more enjoyable if we know the real story behind it. Art is art, but sometimes it helps to know why something was made and why it was made the way that it was.

That’s something I struggle with in my profession on a daily basis, sir. For example, my next opponent is someone to whom this has not crossed his mind.

He speaks of art, and of integrity, and dignity, and honor, but he doesn’t know that there’s much more to Raion Kido than that.”

The Lion now closes his eyes, drawing a heavy sigh. This was a wall through which he had not yet been able to get past. From the World Series of Wrestling to CCPE vs. the World, it seemed that he was only there for the beauty of it all, but it did not seem to matter what he did or said - few would look at him through the outward image.

It was time for a change - and for Corey Black to learn what it really meant to face a Saint of Athena.

It was time for Corey Black to open his eyes - and for the Lion to open his own.

“So it is my hope that, when we are done, someone with his experience has learned what it means to go against someone like me.”

And as the Lion opens his eyes, the Obelisk and the Pyramid illuminate in the dimming light of the sunset - now becoming shining beacons of light in an otherwise darkening world.

“I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor, Mr. Kido!”

Raion extends his hand, which the guide doesn’t take long to shake.

“I do guarantee one thing, sir - one way or another, Corey Black shall be certain to open his eyes!”

The young Saint of Athena places the golden box of his Leo Cloth on the ground, and promptly opens it up.

“It’s time to bring Mr. Deathproof, and everyone watching the Denzel Porter Invitational, an illumination!”

And as brightly, and as intensely, as the Luxor monuments shine, so does the Lion’s cosmos burn…

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