<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Relentless Day 3 RP Boards 2022]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Fri, 15 May 2026 14:14:25 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Act CII: Bullfighter - Part 2 of 2]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44568 Sat, 24 Sep 2022 23:31:45 -0700 Finn Kühn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44568



Read Part 1 here!




20 September 2022
The 'Old Man of Storr'
Isle of Skye, Scotland


"Out of all the places to bring me to..." I muttered under my breath, checking down on my phone to make sure I had the right location. There was very little service out here, but at the very least, I could still check my messages. Christine had taken a while to get this place sent over to me as a guiding location, between all the nonsense about 'making sure Skyla's ready for me' and what not.

Though, I had to admit - high up on the hills, with the craggy rocks stretching out high above the ground and casting looming shadows over the lands, the bright sun peeking out from the clouds for a temperate weather, and the pure water that looked like stained glass from high up above... it felt like something out of a storybook.


[Image: view-over-old-man-of-storr-isle-of-skye-...2m9D74qBg=]


I didn't know how high in elevation this place was. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe it was the fact that I had walked so far already, but I was finding it hard just to catch my breath. I decided to just sit down, and try my best to collect my thoughts. It was good to try and ruminate on things in the meantime, too, as I settled on one of the many edged rocks nearby and just let myself soak in the air.

I had put my life on hold for a while, essentially, while I was trying to get settled back into the XWF. That was a fact I did not mind terribly - this was something I had to prioritize and I had zero issues doing that. If I could, I'd try dedicating almost if not all of my time to this craft. But of course, others would probably have other ideas in mind for me. Sooner or later, they were going to want me to 'expand' myself again by delving into other facets of life and take time away from doing what I appreciated most. I could remember now, how that went in High School...

Romance, for instance, had never really been my preference to try and-

"Too slow!"


THUD!


"Ow - FUCK!" I yelped, trying to shake off the impact of what felt like a stick being driven into my skull as my hands immediately went to the growing welt to try and dull the pain from that and a now growing dull headache. My head craned around, finding none other than a tall, toned woman with long, flowing black hair giving off an almost predatory aura with the smile she had on her face. In her hand was what looked to be something close to a crimson spear - and yet, even with it being like that, she had used it as a tool just to rap me on the head. There was only one person I could think of as to who this was...

"Skyla Hawkins, I presume?" I asked, dusting myself off as I turned to face her. "Would you care to explain just what that was about?"

"Your guess is correct," She said as her smile wasn't wavering even with my reaction. Her voice was deep, and tinged with a faint Scottish accent. "That was just a small test of mine, trying to see your reactions, see how you'd react. You have much work to do, I see."

I snorted in response, finally managing to handle taking my hands off of my head. "Some test of yours. You expect most people to handle something they have little warning about?"

"Ah, but that's the thing - you have plenty of warning for attacks like that, especially given the place you're now working at once more," Skyla said as she slightly raised her open, free hand towards me. "After all, you now work once more in the company that has not one, but two titles defended twenty-four hours, seven days a week once more. And considering some of the actions your 'coworkers' have done on their own, between the assaults, murders, and various other crimes they do by themselves or with others... you should come to expect the unexpected, or else the next 'THUD' you have to deal with will be from someone else - and it won't have nearly as pretty an outcome as here."

She was crazy. She had a point - a very valid point, admittedly, but she was still crazy. And those dark eyes of hers were practically piercing me, metaphorically stripping me and trying to see what exactly I'd be made of, for her to judge and see.

Note to self - strangle Christine's neck out for this insanity.

"Besides," Skyla continued, slowly pacing around me, keeping a fixated, amused eye on me as she spoke. "I've heard - and seen - much from you in your prior runs in the XWF, Finn. You're clearly talented, but you've gotten into your own head in more ways than just how you've done here. You get caught up and swept in things repeatedly, or you're never paying enough attention in the moment. That leaves you open to surprise attacks that do more against you than they have any right to, and you've lost far more matches than you should have as a result. Wouldn't you agree?"

"..." Correction. She was crazy, but her eye was nothing short of keen. She certainly did her homework in anticipation for this, as I let out a breathy chuckle in response. "So you read up on me, then? You sure seem to have me figured out..."

"One could say such a thing is my talent," Skyla smirked, studying my reaction intently. "And besides, it's not much different from what you've been doing these past few weeks, no? After all, I'd be successful in that ring if I wanted to be, but instead I'm more than content being a simple, humble trainer. But that's neither here nor there - because the fact of the matter is, you have a major match looming over your shoulders right now. You're trying to get back the success you once had, but you need a new edge now in order to capture it. You didn't have a role in setting up this meeting, but the fact that you didn't run scared from me when I hit you over the head, or started looking into you deeply tells me that you're rather desperate to get that edge. Which I'll be more than happy with... provided you pass my test today." Skyla twirled the spear in her hands, before sinking it into the soft earth and leaning on it as she still looked at me dead in the eye. "How right am I so far?"

"Tch." I broke the eye contact finally, trying to recollect my nerve. We didn't even really start yet, and already this woman was having me on the ropes. I was starting to understand what Christine meant now - unorthodox, yet gifted. She might make me rip my own hair out at this rate, but her eye is almost unmatched. "I'm making no promises about how things will be going here. Christine mentioned that 'test' of yours though - what did you have in mind?"

"Oh, you needn't worry. It's something rather simple, you see," Skyla pointed off nearby, over on the edge of the hill and bringing my attention with it. "Those rocks over there are plenty heavy enough for you. I want you to pick up one of the larger ones, and then..." Her hand then went off towards the distance, pointing towards the shimmering lake on the horizon. "Make the several mile run over to the lake while holding onto it, and then finally run back. As I said - simple."

"Just cardio with weights attached?" I smirked back at Skyla. "Fine. Easy enough. I've done way worse before."

"I hope you keep to that, then," Skyla said as that smile - that damn predatory, teeth-bearing smile - bore through again. "Especially since... you'll be having to curl the rock. Oh, and before I forget... here. You'll be needing this." She reached into her pocket, pulling out an earpiece that glowed a low blue for me. I slipped it on seamlessly, with a small microphone attached that was just enough to clearly pick up on everything I'd say.

"What's this all about?" I finally asked while squinting at her.

"Again, nothing major," Skyla said innocently as she held her hands up towards me. "I simply figure it would be ideal for us to communicate from long distances while you run. I can make sure your form stays proper, and... perhaps, if we are to work together, it would do us best if I get to know you at least a little, no?"

"You have to earn the right to ask me those kinds of questions," I quickly and coolly shot back while having that icy stare of mine return. Even if this woman's aura was intimidating, I kept my figure rigid without fear. That stance seemed to be to Skyla's liking, who arched her eyebrows in approval.

"Fair enough. Then perhaps, we could chat about your opponent, the craft of wrestling itself, or... perhaps even life, the universe and everything in between. That'll do well enough," she said with a shrug.

...I can't get a damn read on her. She's like a damn enigma. At this rate, curiosity was going to lead to killing the cat at this rate. I had to balance it with caution here, but she was making it rather hard. I gave a grumble of acceptance, before heading over to the rocks. I kneeled down gently, finding a large-sized rock as she wanted that was coming right up to my knee. Lifting with my legs, I managed to get a good grip while keeping it at waist high, fidgeting as I did so.

"Heavy..." I mumbled absentmindedly.

"What did you expect?" Skyla chuckled. "I figure it will be good for endurance's sake as well as building muscle and improving balance - after all, when it comes to an 'I Quit' match, nothing matters more than sheer endurance and willpower. Now then, if I were you... I'd get running."

She was right again, but damn it, having to be on the move while lugging this stupid thing was going to give me an aneurism at this rate, especially while having to curl it. Bitching and moaning would do me no favors though, and I quickly got to running, trying to handle the uneven terrain as I wobbled on the path while trying to keep lifting the stupid rock.

As I was settling down the path now, I felt my earpiece crackle to life as Skyla's voice came through. "Keep your back straight," she said while keeping her eye trained on me from afar. Something told me that no matter how far I ran on this path, she was always going to be seeing me clearly.

"Yeah..." I said back through the earpiece, focused on trying to keep my balance as I went along to straighten out my back as I moved along. My legs kicked against the dirt, moving me forward as I knew this exercise was going to be far more than what I had initially bargained it for.

If nothing else, this new attempt at a run through the XWF would prove to be... unique.

"So..." Skyla mused, her voice almost taking a dream-like state as she sighed. "How about we start by going over your last match on Warfare against Isaiah King..."




Present Day...


"If you look at me and see yourselves in that mirror, then looking at my opponent - I am still not calling him by that ridiculous name, seriously, get a new one - is what most would aspire to become when they look at the full picture."

"Despite his downplaying, his humble-bragging, his attitude, he has what most people would dream of. He's good looking. He has the respect of serving in the military. He's an accomplished MMA fighter. He's main-evented shows, been a star on cards, been a champion. That makes him automatically more decorated than most who would ever come into the domain of pro wrestling, even if he goes on about 'making shit up as he goes.'"

"He was close to the top of Level-Up. But he never quite made it to the top. The last of his time in Level-Up went poorly, and he decided he'd run from the grind, thinking that he's nothing more than chopped liver there in the eyes of management. He wants the attention of a star, and he has the talent to back it up, even with his more humble upbringing. He's had the taste of success, and he's wanting it back."

"So his first idea is to come to here once it's been offered to him. He wants to be part of that so-called 'inner circle' again, and what better way to shoot yourselves up the ranks quickly by making a massive debut on the big stage, Night 3 of Relentless, and use the most of that momentum it gives you?"

"But he's going to find that he's in a lot more than what he bargained for. See, I give him props, personally, for that Wisdom Championship run, his MMA run, what have you. But to almost everyone else, there is no special star power here from him. He's just a new wrestler with experience at his job, stepping into an XWF ring for the first time. His record's 0-0. My record ever since my return is 1-1. We're two fresher faces in the year of 2022, no matter what others may know of us from elsewhere and before, trying to make something of ourselves."

"In that vein, we're similar. But his backhanded compliments about 'if I lose,' or 'becoming an astronaut,' or focusing on those 'one-in-three' odds betray him. He thinks this is going to be easy. He thinks he can roll that die when he steps into the ring on that Hill Valley set, and he thinks he's going to get those one-in-three odds to go on and win."

"Do me a favor, 'Buster.' Keep that energy. Underestimate me more. Keep up those backhanded compliments."

"We're defined right now by our stigmas around ourselves. Your stigma is that of an outsider - nobody knows you here, but you're trying to change that. My perceived stigma was that of a loser. People always, always found it in themselves to just bet against me because I had my head blowing up to the size of a balloon. And it popped. Over. And over. And over again. But there's always that magical moment where I proved what I could do, and I showed people up."

"People bet against me when I faced the likes of Chris Chaos. I proved them wrong."

"People bet against me when I went into the Great American Shove-It, as godawful a catastrophe as that was. I proved them wrong."

"Nobody expected me to main event a Pay-Per-View here before. And even if that went nowhere close to how I wanted, I still proved them wrong by getting to that point."

"We've both gotten close to the top and just came up short. But while you pretend to show respect and think your supposed odds are going to favor you, I'm training for each match like it's the fight of my life. Because I know I have to. I'm tired of overconfidence leading to my downfall. I'm tired of only being close to the top of the mountain. I'm tired of having the stigma of a loser."

"Because mark my words. I am Finn Kühn. I will be a Kaiser once more. I will be a champion for the first time, and I will bite, and scratch, and kick, and claw my way to achieving that point, because I know I have that in me. I do not know when that win will be, but mark my words - I intend to walk out of Relentless next year as a champion."

"Bring your best, 'Buster.' Because if you think you can coast to a win, I'm not going to get much out of a win against someone who half-assed their effort here."


(Word count - 2.726 per wordcounter.net)
]]>



Read Part 1 here!




20 September 2022
The 'Old Man of Storr'
Isle of Skye, Scotland


"Out of all the places to bring me to..." I muttered under my breath, checking down on my phone to make sure I had the right location. There was very little service out here, but at the very least, I could still check my messages. Christine had taken a while to get this place sent over to me as a guiding location, between all the nonsense about 'making sure Skyla's ready for me' and what not.

Though, I had to admit - high up on the hills, with the craggy rocks stretching out high above the ground and casting looming shadows over the lands, the bright sun peeking out from the clouds for a temperate weather, and the pure water that looked like stained glass from high up above... it felt like something out of a storybook.


[Image: view-over-old-man-of-storr-isle-of-skye-...2m9D74qBg=]


I didn't know how high in elevation this place was. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe it was the fact that I had walked so far already, but I was finding it hard just to catch my breath. I decided to just sit down, and try my best to collect my thoughts. It was good to try and ruminate on things in the meantime, too, as I settled on one of the many edged rocks nearby and just let myself soak in the air.

I had put my life on hold for a while, essentially, while I was trying to get settled back into the XWF. That was a fact I did not mind terribly - this was something I had to prioritize and I had zero issues doing that. If I could, I'd try dedicating almost if not all of my time to this craft. But of course, others would probably have other ideas in mind for me. Sooner or later, they were going to want me to 'expand' myself again by delving into other facets of life and take time away from doing what I appreciated most. I could remember now, how that went in High School...

Romance, for instance, had never really been my preference to try and-

"Too slow!"


THUD!


"Ow - FUCK!" I yelped, trying to shake off the impact of what felt like a stick being driven into my skull as my hands immediately went to the growing welt to try and dull the pain from that and a now growing dull headache. My head craned around, finding none other than a tall, toned woman with long, flowing black hair giving off an almost predatory aura with the smile she had on her face. In her hand was what looked to be something close to a crimson spear - and yet, even with it being like that, she had used it as a tool just to rap me on the head. There was only one person I could think of as to who this was...

"Skyla Hawkins, I presume?" I asked, dusting myself off as I turned to face her. "Would you care to explain just what that was about?"

"Your guess is correct," She said as her smile wasn't wavering even with my reaction. Her voice was deep, and tinged with a faint Scottish accent. "That was just a small test of mine, trying to see your reactions, see how you'd react. You have much work to do, I see."

I snorted in response, finally managing to handle taking my hands off of my head. "Some test of yours. You expect most people to handle something they have little warning about?"

"Ah, but that's the thing - you have plenty of warning for attacks like that, especially given the place you're now working at once more," Skyla said as she slightly raised her open, free hand towards me. "After all, you now work once more in the company that has not one, but two titles defended twenty-four hours, seven days a week once more. And considering some of the actions your 'coworkers' have done on their own, between the assaults, murders, and various other crimes they do by themselves or with others... you should come to expect the unexpected, or else the next 'THUD' you have to deal with will be from someone else - and it won't have nearly as pretty an outcome as here."

She was crazy. She had a point - a very valid point, admittedly, but she was still crazy. And those dark eyes of hers were practically piercing me, metaphorically stripping me and trying to see what exactly I'd be made of, for her to judge and see.

Note to self - strangle Christine's neck out for this insanity.

"Besides," Skyla continued, slowly pacing around me, keeping a fixated, amused eye on me as she spoke. "I've heard - and seen - much from you in your prior runs in the XWF, Finn. You're clearly talented, but you've gotten into your own head in more ways than just how you've done here. You get caught up and swept in things repeatedly, or you're never paying enough attention in the moment. That leaves you open to surprise attacks that do more against you than they have any right to, and you've lost far more matches than you should have as a result. Wouldn't you agree?"

"..." Correction. She was crazy, but her eye was nothing short of keen. She certainly did her homework in anticipation for this, as I let out a breathy chuckle in response. "So you read up on me, then? You sure seem to have me figured out..."

"One could say such a thing is my talent," Skyla smirked, studying my reaction intently. "And besides, it's not much different from what you've been doing these past few weeks, no? After all, I'd be successful in that ring if I wanted to be, but instead I'm more than content being a simple, humble trainer. But that's neither here nor there - because the fact of the matter is, you have a major match looming over your shoulders right now. You're trying to get back the success you once had, but you need a new edge now in order to capture it. You didn't have a role in setting up this meeting, but the fact that you didn't run scared from me when I hit you over the head, or started looking into you deeply tells me that you're rather desperate to get that edge. Which I'll be more than happy with... provided you pass my test today." Skyla twirled the spear in her hands, before sinking it into the soft earth and leaning on it as she still looked at me dead in the eye. "How right am I so far?"

"Tch." I broke the eye contact finally, trying to recollect my nerve. We didn't even really start yet, and already this woman was having me on the ropes. I was starting to understand what Christine meant now - unorthodox, yet gifted. She might make me rip my own hair out at this rate, but her eye is almost unmatched. "I'm making no promises about how things will be going here. Christine mentioned that 'test' of yours though - what did you have in mind?"

"Oh, you needn't worry. It's something rather simple, you see," Skyla pointed off nearby, over on the edge of the hill and bringing my attention with it. "Those rocks over there are plenty heavy enough for you. I want you to pick up one of the larger ones, and then..." Her hand then went off towards the distance, pointing towards the shimmering lake on the horizon. "Make the several mile run over to the lake while holding onto it, and then finally run back. As I said - simple."

"Just cardio with weights attached?" I smirked back at Skyla. "Fine. Easy enough. I've done way worse before."

"I hope you keep to that, then," Skyla said as that smile - that damn predatory, teeth-bearing smile - bore through again. "Especially since... you'll be having to curl the rock. Oh, and before I forget... here. You'll be needing this." She reached into her pocket, pulling out an earpiece that glowed a low blue for me. I slipped it on seamlessly, with a small microphone attached that was just enough to clearly pick up on everything I'd say.

"What's this all about?" I finally asked while squinting at her.

"Again, nothing major," Skyla said innocently as she held her hands up towards me. "I simply figure it would be ideal for us to communicate from long distances while you run. I can make sure your form stays proper, and... perhaps, if we are to work together, it would do us best if I get to know you at least a little, no?"

"You have to earn the right to ask me those kinds of questions," I quickly and coolly shot back while having that icy stare of mine return. Even if this woman's aura was intimidating, I kept my figure rigid without fear. That stance seemed to be to Skyla's liking, who arched her eyebrows in approval.

"Fair enough. Then perhaps, we could chat about your opponent, the craft of wrestling itself, or... perhaps even life, the universe and everything in between. That'll do well enough," she said with a shrug.

...I can't get a damn read on her. She's like a damn enigma. At this rate, curiosity was going to lead to killing the cat at this rate. I had to balance it with caution here, but she was making it rather hard. I gave a grumble of acceptance, before heading over to the rocks. I kneeled down gently, finding a large-sized rock as she wanted that was coming right up to my knee. Lifting with my legs, I managed to get a good grip while keeping it at waist high, fidgeting as I did so.

"Heavy..." I mumbled absentmindedly.

"What did you expect?" Skyla chuckled. "I figure it will be good for endurance's sake as well as building muscle and improving balance - after all, when it comes to an 'I Quit' match, nothing matters more than sheer endurance and willpower. Now then, if I were you... I'd get running."

She was right again, but damn it, having to be on the move while lugging this stupid thing was going to give me an aneurism at this rate, especially while having to curl it. Bitching and moaning would do me no favors though, and I quickly got to running, trying to handle the uneven terrain as I wobbled on the path while trying to keep lifting the stupid rock.

As I was settling down the path now, I felt my earpiece crackle to life as Skyla's voice came through. "Keep your back straight," she said while keeping her eye trained on me from afar. Something told me that no matter how far I ran on this path, she was always going to be seeing me clearly.

"Yeah..." I said back through the earpiece, focused on trying to keep my balance as I went along to straighten out my back as I moved along. My legs kicked against the dirt, moving me forward as I knew this exercise was going to be far more than what I had initially bargained it for.

If nothing else, this new attempt at a run through the XWF would prove to be... unique.

"So..." Skyla mused, her voice almost taking a dream-like state as she sighed. "How about we start by going over your last match on Warfare against Isaiah King..."




Present Day...


"If you look at me and see yourselves in that mirror, then looking at my opponent - I am still not calling him by that ridiculous name, seriously, get a new one - is what most would aspire to become when they look at the full picture."

"Despite his downplaying, his humble-bragging, his attitude, he has what most people would dream of. He's good looking. He has the respect of serving in the military. He's an accomplished MMA fighter. He's main-evented shows, been a star on cards, been a champion. That makes him automatically more decorated than most who would ever come into the domain of pro wrestling, even if he goes on about 'making shit up as he goes.'"

"He was close to the top of Level-Up. But he never quite made it to the top. The last of his time in Level-Up went poorly, and he decided he'd run from the grind, thinking that he's nothing more than chopped liver there in the eyes of management. He wants the attention of a star, and he has the talent to back it up, even with his more humble upbringing. He's had the taste of success, and he's wanting it back."

"So his first idea is to come to here once it's been offered to him. He wants to be part of that so-called 'inner circle' again, and what better way to shoot yourselves up the ranks quickly by making a massive debut on the big stage, Night 3 of Relentless, and use the most of that momentum it gives you?"

"But he's going to find that he's in a lot more than what he bargained for. See, I give him props, personally, for that Wisdom Championship run, his MMA run, what have you. But to almost everyone else, there is no special star power here from him. He's just a new wrestler with experience at his job, stepping into an XWF ring for the first time. His record's 0-0. My record ever since my return is 1-1. We're two fresher faces in the year of 2022, no matter what others may know of us from elsewhere and before, trying to make something of ourselves."

"In that vein, we're similar. But his backhanded compliments about 'if I lose,' or 'becoming an astronaut,' or focusing on those 'one-in-three' odds betray him. He thinks this is going to be easy. He thinks he can roll that die when he steps into the ring on that Hill Valley set, and he thinks he's going to get those one-in-three odds to go on and win."

"Do me a favor, 'Buster.' Keep that energy. Underestimate me more. Keep up those backhanded compliments."

"We're defined right now by our stigmas around ourselves. Your stigma is that of an outsider - nobody knows you here, but you're trying to change that. My perceived stigma was that of a loser. People always, always found it in themselves to just bet against me because I had my head blowing up to the size of a balloon. And it popped. Over. And over. And over again. But there's always that magical moment where I proved what I could do, and I showed people up."

"People bet against me when I faced the likes of Chris Chaos. I proved them wrong."

"People bet against me when I went into the Great American Shove-It, as godawful a catastrophe as that was. I proved them wrong."

"Nobody expected me to main event a Pay-Per-View here before. And even if that went nowhere close to how I wanted, I still proved them wrong by getting to that point."

"We've both gotten close to the top and just came up short. But while you pretend to show respect and think your supposed odds are going to favor you, I'm training for each match like it's the fight of my life. Because I know I have to. I'm tired of overconfidence leading to my downfall. I'm tired of only being close to the top of the mountain. I'm tired of having the stigma of a loser."

"Because mark my words. I am Finn Kühn. I will be a Kaiser once more. I will be a champion for the first time, and I will bite, and scratch, and kick, and claw my way to achieving that point, because I know I have that in me. I do not know when that win will be, but mark my words - I intend to walk out of Relentless next year as a champion."

"Bring your best, 'Buster.' Because if you think you can coast to a win, I'm not going to get much out of a win against someone who half-assed their effort here."


(Word count - 2.726 per wordcounter.net)
]]> <![CDATA[Killing Fascism]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44614 Sat, 24 Sep 2022 18:02:16 -0700 Centurion]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44614

Centurion has seen places like this before…he just doesn't know why he's here now.

The mysterious Mr. Blue has taken a strange interest in Centurion's wrestling career as of late, with his upcoming match against Bartholomew Lichter being the main focal point of these discussions. Mr. Blue liked meeting in opulent places - country clubs, exclusive restaurants, casinos. This most recent meeting, however, is in an unusual place. 

We open up inside the Rainbow Cafe LGBTQ+ Center in Anna-Jonesboro, Illinois. This combination cafe and community center is bustling with people of various backgrounds, ethnicities, genders, and so forth. In the cafe, seated at a small table in the corner of the room, is Mr. Blue. He has a cup of hot coffee sitting in front of him, as well as a cup of iced coffee. 

After a few seconds, Centurion is seen entering the room. He looks around a bit before walking up to the table Mr. Blue is seated at. Before he's able to say anything, Mr. Blue hands the iced coffee to him.

"Vanilla iced coffee, extra cream." Mr. Blue says in his calm, British accent. "I even ordered you a breakfast bagel."

"You spit in this, didn't you?" Centurion asks as he carefully inspects the drink he has been given. 

"I would never." Mr. Blue says, offended by the accusation. "I would never soil good coffee like that. Besides, if I wanted to spit on you, I would just do it. I wouldn't secretly do it like a high school fast food worker."

"...fair enough." Centurion concedes as he sits down on the other side of the table. "So why are we HERE? This seems way outside your comfort zone."

"It is." Mr. Blue says with a smirk. "That's kind of why I chose it. I wanted to show you - and in a sense, remind myself - of the world outside of our boundaries. Take a look around." Centurion glances around at the various people coming in and out of the building. "These people here have lived experiences that we have nightmares about. Some of these fine people are homeless. Many have been rejected by their families. And they are all being persecuted in one way or another because of who they are." Mr. Blue takes a sip of his coffee before getting very solemn. "You and I, we are not good people. We have scammed and cheated our way to the top, and we hurt a lot of people along the way. When karma comes for us, we deserve it. Every last bit of it. But these folks? They don't deserve the hardships that they received. Not in the slightest."

Centurion is taken aback by Mr. Blue's words. "Wow. I never took you for an empathetic man."

"Don't mistake me for some bleeding heart." Mr. Blue remarks in his typical snarky tone. "I play the game of life better than anyone, and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. But it is one thing to have a battle of wits against someone who is your equal. These folks here, they have to work twice as hard to get half as far, and it's because of people like Cheney, and Lichter, and other leeches like them that continue to control the resources while ensuring everyone starves."

"So, you consider yourself to be some kind of modern day Robin Hood?" Centurion snarks. "You take from the rich and give to the poor?"

"I don't give to anyone." Mr. Blue retorts. "I just understand how this world works." Mr. Blue reaches next to him and grabs a folder out of a briefcase. He tosses it over to Centurion, who raises an eyebrow. "You walked away from our most recent conversation skeptical of my motives. In that folder is every ounce of proof you need."

Centurion looks at the front of the folder. He taps the top of it, but he speaks before opening it. "You continue to be an enigma to me. I don't know if I will ever truly understand you or your motivations…" Centurion stops and slides the folder back over to Mr. Blue. "But I think I prefer it that way."

Mr. Blue, surprised by Centurion's gesture, takes the folder and slides it back in his briefcase. As he does, a waitress walks over with a breakfast sandwich on a small plate, which she places in front of Centurion. Centurion takes a sip of his iced coffee before glancing back over at Mr. Blue. "So…whatchu got?"

Mr. Blue folds his hands in front of himself on the table as Centurion picks up his sandwich and begins to eat.

"Lichter is not as radical as Cheney." Mr. Blue begins with his assessment. "He is a bigot, do not get me wrong, but he is not willing to sacrifice his life for the cause. He just wants money. The problem is, he is surrounded by people who would die in order to follow the harbingers of fascism, and we don't always know who those people are. You will not be taking part in a normal wrestling match, which concerns me."

"It's a dog collar match." Centurion says as he washes down a bite of his sandwich with the coffee.

"It's not just a dog collar match." Mr. Blue retorts. "It is a dog collar match inside a saloon. There will be people inside that building that will be very close to you, and who will have an opportunity to get to you. It is my belief that Lichter is likely to plant supporters in that crowd. Supporters that are blended in with everyone else."

"I thought the same thing." Centurion says. "I have some people coming to watch my back."

"Good." Mr. Blue quickly responds. "And be sure to defend yourself. I'm telling you, these people want you dead, and they think this is the best opportunity to take you out. When your friends come, make sure they're well equipped for the situation. And make sure you're properly set up, too."

Centurion turns his head to the side, curious at Mr. Blue's recent sentence and the way he said it. "What do you mean by that?"

"I would have thought your age would have brought with it some wisdom, but I see I am mistaken." Mr. Blue takes a verbal jab at Centurion, causing Centurion to roll his eyes. "I mean Lichter is going to bring a weapon. It won't be a gun or anything that will get picked up by a metal detector, but he is absolutely going to bring something in. Something homemade and sharp, would be my guess. Your first step in this match will likely be to disarm him. Once you are able to do that, and you have his defenses down, well…"

Mr. Blue stops to take a sip of his coffee, and Centurion gestures to him to move it along. "Well what?"

"Well, despite what many have said in the past, you are actually a trained fighter with at least an ounce of skill." Mr. Blue says with a smile. "Lichter is not. He is going to throw everything he has at you early, because he can not keep up with you. If you can disarm him, and if you can get his people out of there, you'll be able to do whatever you want to the man. My guess is, you could end the match pretty easily after that."

Centurion smiles back at Mr. Blue as he reaches for his coffee once again. "I could…if I wanted to."

"Alas, Mr. Cortinovis, we find ourselves on the same page."

—---You're Not Half The Man You Think That You Are—---

We reopen inside some sort of town hall or community center. There, we see many people holding signs and flags, representing various causes. Unlike your typical rally, the place is silent as they all face the podium at the front of the room. There stands Centurion, who is looking more nervous than he normally does. He takes a deep breath before he speaks into the mic and into the camera.

"I want everyone at home watching this to take a look at those who are gathered here today. I want their faces to be etched in your memory for all eternity…because I want you to see the people harmed by the violent rhetoric of fascism.

I do not claim to be the leader of a movement. I'm not that self centered that I would place myself on that pedestal. In fact, I am somewhat embarrassed to be the face of this. This should be someone with more lived experience. Someone who closely resembles the type of people that have to take up this fight every day. 

However, I am not the one who interjected me into this fight. Bartholomew Lichter was. And if he's going to start a fight, then I intend on finishing it."

Centurion looks back out into the crowd, who have remained deadly silent during this entire speech. 

"Lichter, you've poked and prodded long enough. You have been using me, my family, and those closest to me as props to get yourself over with your fellow insurrectionists. Congratulations. I hope you've enjoyed the spotlight you've received from me…because that ends at Relentless. I'm not going to just defeat you, Boots. I'm going to annihilate you. I am going to slice you open and make you bleed buckets, and when it's all said and done, you will not be walking away from this match under your own power.

It is not important for me to beat you, Boots. It's important for me to hurt you. Actions have consequences, and what you've done to me, and to so many other people have gone unpunished for FAR too long. The injuries Father Cheney sustained at the Cannabis Cup? Those were nothing compared to what I plan on doing to you."

Centurion's face gets red as his anger begins to spike. He tries to take another deep breath, but he is too far on a roll now to calm himself down.

"People like you claim to love America, but you're so full of shit you can't even see straight anymore. You don't love America. You love white America. You love the America that you are comfortable in, and you despise everything else that this country is built on. You are a self centered, egotistical asshole that uses everyone around you. You're barely even a person - you're a cancer. Nothing more than a clump of cells that sucks the life and energy out of this country. 

And yes, if you are someone who follows Lichter and believes in the things he says, then I am talking about you, too. Far too long have we avoided saying exactly what we need to say. While fascists get away with white supremacist rhetoric, we are told we can't respond too harshly, or else people will get offended. That might be fine for your politicians and your talking heads, but it's not fine with me anymore.

Fuck these people."

The crowd cheers at Centurion's direct words.

"Lichter, you are a man who has been catered to his entire life. Everything - EVERY SINGLE THING - that you have has been because of the privileged life you live. Trust me, I know first hand. I have had so many opportunities handed to me just because of who I am, and there are many times when I've blown it. But I'm not stupid enough to stand in front of people and tell them that I'm somehow a victim. Only you and your delusional mob do that. 

Without this fight, and without Cheney propping you up as my next opponent, you would be nothing. You would just be another disgraced politician sitting on your front porch arguing about how the world has gone soft and how you were wrongfully prosecuted. The fact you even have a match at Relentless is all thanks to me, but I do not expect you to thank me. In fact, I don't WANT you to thank me.

I want you to bleed for me. I want you to suffer for me. By the end of the night, I want to know that you will never be a pain in my ass ever again. Then, if there's any part of you left alive, I want you to apologize to the XWF faithful for wasting their time, to the roster for stealing a spot on the biggest show of the year, and to the millions of people you and your cult victimize every fucking day with the bullshit that comes out of your mouths.

Sunday night, when you're lying in pain with the cuts and bruises all over your body, I want you to know - you deserved all of it and more. You should thank God if you're not being dragged out in a box."

The crowd all sits in a bit of a stunned silence, all while waiting for Centurion to finish the speech with his patented line. Instead, Centurion just looks out into the crowd, shakes his head, and walks away from the podium as the camera fades to black.]]>

Centurion has seen places like this before…he just doesn't know why he's here now.

The mysterious Mr. Blue has taken a strange interest in Centurion's wrestling career as of late, with his upcoming match against Bartholomew Lichter being the main focal point of these discussions. Mr. Blue liked meeting in opulent places - country clubs, exclusive restaurants, casinos. This most recent meeting, however, is in an unusual place. 

We open up inside the Rainbow Cafe LGBTQ+ Center in Anna-Jonesboro, Illinois. This combination cafe and community center is bustling with people of various backgrounds, ethnicities, genders, and so forth. In the cafe, seated at a small table in the corner of the room, is Mr. Blue. He has a cup of hot coffee sitting in front of him, as well as a cup of iced coffee. 

After a few seconds, Centurion is seen entering the room. He looks around a bit before walking up to the table Mr. Blue is seated at. Before he's able to say anything, Mr. Blue hands the iced coffee to him.

"Vanilla iced coffee, extra cream." Mr. Blue says in his calm, British accent. "I even ordered you a breakfast bagel."

"You spit in this, didn't you?" Centurion asks as he carefully inspects the drink he has been given. 

"I would never." Mr. Blue says, offended by the accusation. "I would never soil good coffee like that. Besides, if I wanted to spit on you, I would just do it. I wouldn't secretly do it like a high school fast food worker."

"...fair enough." Centurion concedes as he sits down on the other side of the table. "So why are we HERE? This seems way outside your comfort zone."

"It is." Mr. Blue says with a smirk. "That's kind of why I chose it. I wanted to show you - and in a sense, remind myself - of the world outside of our boundaries. Take a look around." Centurion glances around at the various people coming in and out of the building. "These people here have lived experiences that we have nightmares about. Some of these fine people are homeless. Many have been rejected by their families. And they are all being persecuted in one way or another because of who they are." Mr. Blue takes a sip of his coffee before getting very solemn. "You and I, we are not good people. We have scammed and cheated our way to the top, and we hurt a lot of people along the way. When karma comes for us, we deserve it. Every last bit of it. But these folks? They don't deserve the hardships that they received. Not in the slightest."

Centurion is taken aback by Mr. Blue's words. "Wow. I never took you for an empathetic man."

"Don't mistake me for some bleeding heart." Mr. Blue remarks in his typical snarky tone. "I play the game of life better than anyone, and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. But it is one thing to have a battle of wits against someone who is your equal. These folks here, they have to work twice as hard to get half as far, and it's because of people like Cheney, and Lichter, and other leeches like them that continue to control the resources while ensuring everyone starves."

"So, you consider yourself to be some kind of modern day Robin Hood?" Centurion snarks. "You take from the rich and give to the poor?"

"I don't give to anyone." Mr. Blue retorts. "I just understand how this world works." Mr. Blue reaches next to him and grabs a folder out of a briefcase. He tosses it over to Centurion, who raises an eyebrow. "You walked away from our most recent conversation skeptical of my motives. In that folder is every ounce of proof you need."

Centurion looks at the front of the folder. He taps the top of it, but he speaks before opening it. "You continue to be an enigma to me. I don't know if I will ever truly understand you or your motivations…" Centurion stops and slides the folder back over to Mr. Blue. "But I think I prefer it that way."

Mr. Blue, surprised by Centurion's gesture, takes the folder and slides it back in his briefcase. As he does, a waitress walks over with a breakfast sandwich on a small plate, which she places in front of Centurion. Centurion takes a sip of his iced coffee before glancing back over at Mr. Blue. "So…whatchu got?"

Mr. Blue folds his hands in front of himself on the table as Centurion picks up his sandwich and begins to eat.

"Lichter is not as radical as Cheney." Mr. Blue begins with his assessment. "He is a bigot, do not get me wrong, but he is not willing to sacrifice his life for the cause. He just wants money. The problem is, he is surrounded by people who would die in order to follow the harbingers of fascism, and we don't always know who those people are. You will not be taking part in a normal wrestling match, which concerns me."

"It's a dog collar match." Centurion says as he washes down a bite of his sandwich with the coffee.

"It's not just a dog collar match." Mr. Blue retorts. "It is a dog collar match inside a saloon. There will be people inside that building that will be very close to you, and who will have an opportunity to get to you. It is my belief that Lichter is likely to plant supporters in that crowd. Supporters that are blended in with everyone else."

"I thought the same thing." Centurion says. "I have some people coming to watch my back."

"Good." Mr. Blue quickly responds. "And be sure to defend yourself. I'm telling you, these people want you dead, and they think this is the best opportunity to take you out. When your friends come, make sure they're well equipped for the situation. And make sure you're properly set up, too."

Centurion turns his head to the side, curious at Mr. Blue's recent sentence and the way he said it. "What do you mean by that?"

"I would have thought your age would have brought with it some wisdom, but I see I am mistaken." Mr. Blue takes a verbal jab at Centurion, causing Centurion to roll his eyes. "I mean Lichter is going to bring a weapon. It won't be a gun or anything that will get picked up by a metal detector, but he is absolutely going to bring something in. Something homemade and sharp, would be my guess. Your first step in this match will likely be to disarm him. Once you are able to do that, and you have his defenses down, well…"

Mr. Blue stops to take a sip of his coffee, and Centurion gestures to him to move it along. "Well what?"

"Well, despite what many have said in the past, you are actually a trained fighter with at least an ounce of skill." Mr. Blue says with a smile. "Lichter is not. He is going to throw everything he has at you early, because he can not keep up with you. If you can disarm him, and if you can get his people out of there, you'll be able to do whatever you want to the man. My guess is, you could end the match pretty easily after that."

Centurion smiles back at Mr. Blue as he reaches for his coffee once again. "I could…if I wanted to."

"Alas, Mr. Cortinovis, we find ourselves on the same page."

—---You're Not Half The Man You Think That You Are—---

We reopen inside some sort of town hall or community center. There, we see many people holding signs and flags, representing various causes. Unlike your typical rally, the place is silent as they all face the podium at the front of the room. There stands Centurion, who is looking more nervous than he normally does. He takes a deep breath before he speaks into the mic and into the camera.

"I want everyone at home watching this to take a look at those who are gathered here today. I want their faces to be etched in your memory for all eternity…because I want you to see the people harmed by the violent rhetoric of fascism.

I do not claim to be the leader of a movement. I'm not that self centered that I would place myself on that pedestal. In fact, I am somewhat embarrassed to be the face of this. This should be someone with more lived experience. Someone who closely resembles the type of people that have to take up this fight every day. 

However, I am not the one who interjected me into this fight. Bartholomew Lichter was. And if he's going to start a fight, then I intend on finishing it."

Centurion looks back out into the crowd, who have remained deadly silent during this entire speech. 

"Lichter, you've poked and prodded long enough. You have been using me, my family, and those closest to me as props to get yourself over with your fellow insurrectionists. Congratulations. I hope you've enjoyed the spotlight you've received from me…because that ends at Relentless. I'm not going to just defeat you, Boots. I'm going to annihilate you. I am going to slice you open and make you bleed buckets, and when it's all said and done, you will not be walking away from this match under your own power.

It is not important for me to beat you, Boots. It's important for me to hurt you. Actions have consequences, and what you've done to me, and to so many other people have gone unpunished for FAR too long. The injuries Father Cheney sustained at the Cannabis Cup? Those were nothing compared to what I plan on doing to you."

Centurion's face gets red as his anger begins to spike. He tries to take another deep breath, but he is too far on a roll now to calm himself down.

"People like you claim to love America, but you're so full of shit you can't even see straight anymore. You don't love America. You love white America. You love the America that you are comfortable in, and you despise everything else that this country is built on. You are a self centered, egotistical asshole that uses everyone around you. You're barely even a person - you're a cancer. Nothing more than a clump of cells that sucks the life and energy out of this country. 

And yes, if you are someone who follows Lichter and believes in the things he says, then I am talking about you, too. Far too long have we avoided saying exactly what we need to say. While fascists get away with white supremacist rhetoric, we are told we can't respond too harshly, or else people will get offended. That might be fine for your politicians and your talking heads, but it's not fine with me anymore.

Fuck these people."

The crowd cheers at Centurion's direct words.

"Lichter, you are a man who has been catered to his entire life. Everything - EVERY SINGLE THING - that you have has been because of the privileged life you live. Trust me, I know first hand. I have had so many opportunities handed to me just because of who I am, and there are many times when I've blown it. But I'm not stupid enough to stand in front of people and tell them that I'm somehow a victim. Only you and your delusional mob do that. 

Without this fight, and without Cheney propping you up as my next opponent, you would be nothing. You would just be another disgraced politician sitting on your front porch arguing about how the world has gone soft and how you were wrongfully prosecuted. The fact you even have a match at Relentless is all thanks to me, but I do not expect you to thank me. In fact, I don't WANT you to thank me.

I want you to bleed for me. I want you to suffer for me. By the end of the night, I want to know that you will never be a pain in my ass ever again. Then, if there's any part of you left alive, I want you to apologize to the XWF faithful for wasting their time, to the roster for stealing a spot on the biggest show of the year, and to the millions of people you and your cult victimize every fucking day with the bullshit that comes out of your mouths.

Sunday night, when you're lying in pain with the cuts and bruises all over your body, I want you to know - you deserved all of it and more. You should thank God if you're not being dragged out in a box."

The crowd all sits in a bit of a stunned silence, all while waiting for Centurion to finish the speech with his patented line. Instead, Centurion just looks out into the crowd, shakes his head, and walks away from the podium as the camera fades to black.]]> <![CDATA[End Of Immorality]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44611 Sat, 24 Sep 2022 14:54:45 -0700 Team MAGA]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44611

“There’s a lot of people out there. There has to be several thousand.” 
 
“You have them all fired up, Father. All your hard work over the past several years have lead to this. We could not have done it without you.” 
 
T-Law's words sound genuine and sincere, but Cheney doesn’t seem to hear them, or he simply does not care, as he continues to look out onto the stage and into the audience.  
 
“I just hope the Senator doesn’t take all of our material.” 
 
T-Law smiles as he looks behind him, spotting Lichter on the couch. He quickly but quietly runs up to Lichter and places his hand on his flask. T-Law yells at Lichter, while keeping his voice as a whisper. 
 
“Dude, what are you doing? This is a dry county!” 
 
“Oh please, what are they going to do? Arrest me?” 
 
T-Law raises his hands in the air. 
 
“Yes!” 
 
“You need to calm down, TJ Hooker. You think in the reddest, most podunk county in one of the most conservative states in the union, surrounded by politicians and celebrity talking heads that the sheriff is going to show up and arrest me? You need to embrace your situation a little more! We can do whatever we want here and no one will stop us!” 
 
“Yeah? You want to run that by Father Cheney and see what he thinks about it?” 
 
“The old man isn’t going to say shit. Not this close to Relentless. He knows where his future lies, and he isn’t going to do anything to jeopardize that.”  
 
Lichter takes a swig from the flask before offering it to T-Law. 
 
“Want some? It’s Southern Comfort.” 
 
“No, I don’t want any! And you should be taking this more seriously! There are thousands of people out there. This is a big deal!” 
 
“There are thousands of people every time I walk to the ring. There’s going to be millions watching on Sunday, and over half of them are going to want me to die. You think I’m nervous about a couple thousand people that would cheer me if I went out there and just farted into a microphone? Get the fuck out of here!” 
 
T-Law snarls at Lichter. 
 
“It should be me. You know that? I should be the one going out there on Sunday, fighting for our cause. I’m younger, I’m more athletic, and I’m more of a believer in Cheney and what he has done for this country than you are.” 
 
“As true as that all may be, you’re also not as good as me. I’m the only one among the group of us that has a victory over Centurion, and that’s the only thing that matters in this business. Besides, you’re too cute and wholesome. You wouldn’t murder someone if you were given a free pass to do so.” 
 
“And you would?” 
 
Lichter does a slight smirk, but before he’s able to answer, Father Cheney turns his head back to the guys to yell at them. 
 
“Hey! Get up here! Senator Cotton’s wrapping up, then he’s going to introduce us.” 
 
Lichter slides his flash back into his jacket and stands up from the couch. He gives T-Law a wink before buttoning his suit jacket and walking up to Cheney. All four men stand, peaking out of the curtain, as Tom Cotton finishes his speech. 
 
“No matter what happens, what values they try to take from us, there will ALWAYS be fighters who will stand for you and your liberty. I will continue to fight for you in Washington! Sarah Huckabee Sanders will continue to fight for you at the state house! And these men will continue to fight for you in the squared circle! We, the true patriots of America, DEMAND entertainment that is not morally corrupted by the woke mob that looks to erase our culture! These men are standing up to the liberal bigwigs in professional wrestling, and they will deliver a dagger to the HEART of the cancel culture movement this weekend! Ladies and gentlemen, Father Jefferson Cheney and the Moral Army of Godly Americans!” 
 
The crowd in the building goes crazy as Team MAGA steps out onto the stage. Father Cheney steps out first and places his hands together as if he praying before gesturing toward the rest of his team. He shakes Tom Cotton’s hands before stepping up to the podium.
 
“Hello Arkansas!”
 
The crowd cheers again as they wave their flags.
 
“Thank you so much for being here! It is truly an honor to speak in front of so many patriots who care about the direction of our country. We have been hearing your cheers each and every week, and it has continued to give this team of warriors the motivation needed to fight against the radical agenda being forced on us through our media. As you know, some liberal thugs put me in the hospital a few months ago. It hurt, but your prayers helped me in that trying time. The folks responsible for that attack weren’t there just to hurt me, but they were there to hurt each and every one of you. Everyone who believes we are a nation blessed by God, and who doesn’t want our children to be indoctrinated by the immorality of the left. When someone like Centurion comes on TV and insults this team, he is insulting every one of you.”
 
The crowd boos.
 
“They want to eliminate our way of life! But, we are lucky to have people out there, in the trenches, fighting these battles each and every day. This man I am about to introduce has been fighting for our values for many years – first as an elected official, and now as a professional wrestler. He is the one who will stand face to face with that immoral socialist Centurion, and finally push him out of the professional wrestling business. He will sent a message to everyone that you WILL NOT SILENCE US, and you WILL NOT REPLACE US! Ladies and gentlemen, Boots Lichter!!”
 
The crowd goes wild again as Lichter steps up to the podium with a large smile on his face. He raises his arms out next to him in a gesture as if he is hugging the crowd, and he soaks in the cheers before he speaks.
 
“Thank you! You are all so wonderful! As Father Cheney says, your support is what keeps us going every week. We have faced a lot of adversity. An army of woke moralists attack us each and every day, whether it’s online, or on the street, or in the papers. It can be very disheartening. But coming back here and listening to all of you reminds all of us that there is something worth saving in this country.
 
I will not beat around the bush – I am in the fight of my life this weekend. Centurion is the epitome of the leftist agenda in professional wrestling. He openly insults Donald Trump and his supporters. He props up transgender people and gives them a platform. He mocks the people who are protecting the lives of the unborn. He funds left wing terrorist organizations, and he is unapologetic about it.
 
And until now, NO ONE has stepped up to stop him. They have let him off the hook for two decades. But I plan on stopping him. I do not believe violence is always the answer…but if it is violence that the satanic left wishes to use, then it is violence that we will use. I will stop at nothing – NOTHING – to bring back our way of life, and to oppose those who wish to take it away. And I hope that every dyed hair, furry Twitter user that supports Centurion is watching on Sunday night, so they can see exactly what happens to him. This will be the rise of the MAGA Movement once again, and it will be the end of Centurion in professional wrestling. We will overcome, and we will prevail!”
 
The crowd cheers once again as Lichter gets a giant smile on his face and the camera fades to black.]]>

“There’s a lot of people out there. There has to be several thousand.” 
 
“You have them all fired up, Father. All your hard work over the past several years have lead to this. We could not have done it without you.” 
 
T-Law's words sound genuine and sincere, but Cheney doesn’t seem to hear them, or he simply does not care, as he continues to look out onto the stage and into the audience.  
 
“I just hope the Senator doesn’t take all of our material.” 
 
T-Law smiles as he looks behind him, spotting Lichter on the couch. He quickly but quietly runs up to Lichter and places his hand on his flask. T-Law yells at Lichter, while keeping his voice as a whisper. 
 
“Dude, what are you doing? This is a dry county!” 
 
“Oh please, what are they going to do? Arrest me?” 
 
T-Law raises his hands in the air. 
 
“Yes!” 
 
“You need to calm down, TJ Hooker. You think in the reddest, most podunk county in one of the most conservative states in the union, surrounded by politicians and celebrity talking heads that the sheriff is going to show up and arrest me? You need to embrace your situation a little more! We can do whatever we want here and no one will stop us!” 
 
“Yeah? You want to run that by Father Cheney and see what he thinks about it?” 
 
“The old man isn’t going to say shit. Not this close to Relentless. He knows where his future lies, and he isn’t going to do anything to jeopardize that.”  
 
Lichter takes a swig from the flask before offering it to T-Law. 
 
“Want some? It’s Southern Comfort.” 
 
“No, I don’t want any! And you should be taking this more seriously! There are thousands of people out there. This is a big deal!” 
 
“There are thousands of people every time I walk to the ring. There’s going to be millions watching on Sunday, and over half of them are going to want me to die. You think I’m nervous about a couple thousand people that would cheer me if I went out there and just farted into a microphone? Get the fuck out of here!” 
 
T-Law snarls at Lichter. 
 
“It should be me. You know that? I should be the one going out there on Sunday, fighting for our cause. I’m younger, I’m more athletic, and I’m more of a believer in Cheney and what he has done for this country than you are.” 
 
“As true as that all may be, you’re also not as good as me. I’m the only one among the group of us that has a victory over Centurion, and that’s the only thing that matters in this business. Besides, you’re too cute and wholesome. You wouldn’t murder someone if you were given a free pass to do so.” 
 
“And you would?” 
 
Lichter does a slight smirk, but before he’s able to answer, Father Cheney turns his head back to the guys to yell at them. 
 
“Hey! Get up here! Senator Cotton’s wrapping up, then he’s going to introduce us.” 
 
Lichter slides his flash back into his jacket and stands up from the couch. He gives T-Law a wink before buttoning his suit jacket and walking up to Cheney. All four men stand, peaking out of the curtain, as Tom Cotton finishes his speech. 
 
“No matter what happens, what values they try to take from us, there will ALWAYS be fighters who will stand for you and your liberty. I will continue to fight for you in Washington! Sarah Huckabee Sanders will continue to fight for you at the state house! And these men will continue to fight for you in the squared circle! We, the true patriots of America, DEMAND entertainment that is not morally corrupted by the woke mob that looks to erase our culture! These men are standing up to the liberal bigwigs in professional wrestling, and they will deliver a dagger to the HEART of the cancel culture movement this weekend! Ladies and gentlemen, Father Jefferson Cheney and the Moral Army of Godly Americans!” 
 
The crowd in the building goes crazy as Team MAGA steps out onto the stage. Father Cheney steps out first and places his hands together as if he praying before gesturing toward the rest of his team. He shakes Tom Cotton’s hands before stepping up to the podium.
 
“Hello Arkansas!”
 
The crowd cheers again as they wave their flags.
 
“Thank you so much for being here! It is truly an honor to speak in front of so many patriots who care about the direction of our country. We have been hearing your cheers each and every week, and it has continued to give this team of warriors the motivation needed to fight against the radical agenda being forced on us through our media. As you know, some liberal thugs put me in the hospital a few months ago. It hurt, but your prayers helped me in that trying time. The folks responsible for that attack weren’t there just to hurt me, but they were there to hurt each and every one of you. Everyone who believes we are a nation blessed by God, and who doesn’t want our children to be indoctrinated by the immorality of the left. When someone like Centurion comes on TV and insults this team, he is insulting every one of you.”
 
The crowd boos.
 
“They want to eliminate our way of life! But, we are lucky to have people out there, in the trenches, fighting these battles each and every day. This man I am about to introduce has been fighting for our values for many years – first as an elected official, and now as a professional wrestler. He is the one who will stand face to face with that immoral socialist Centurion, and finally push him out of the professional wrestling business. He will sent a message to everyone that you WILL NOT SILENCE US, and you WILL NOT REPLACE US! Ladies and gentlemen, Boots Lichter!!”
 
The crowd goes wild again as Lichter steps up to the podium with a large smile on his face. He raises his arms out next to him in a gesture as if he is hugging the crowd, and he soaks in the cheers before he speaks.
 
“Thank you! You are all so wonderful! As Father Cheney says, your support is what keeps us going every week. We have faced a lot of adversity. An army of woke moralists attack us each and every day, whether it’s online, or on the street, or in the papers. It can be very disheartening. But coming back here and listening to all of you reminds all of us that there is something worth saving in this country.
 
I will not beat around the bush – I am in the fight of my life this weekend. Centurion is the epitome of the leftist agenda in professional wrestling. He openly insults Donald Trump and his supporters. He props up transgender people and gives them a platform. He mocks the people who are protecting the lives of the unborn. He funds left wing terrorist organizations, and he is unapologetic about it.
 
And until now, NO ONE has stepped up to stop him. They have let him off the hook for two decades. But I plan on stopping him. I do not believe violence is always the answer…but if it is violence that the satanic left wishes to use, then it is violence that we will use. I will stop at nothing – NOTHING – to bring back our way of life, and to oppose those who wish to take it away. And I hope that every dyed hair, furry Twitter user that supports Centurion is watching on Sunday night, so they can see exactly what happens to him. This will be the rise of the MAGA Movement once again, and it will be the end of Centurion in professional wrestling. We will overcome, and we will prevail!”
 
The crowd cheers once again as Lichter gets a giant smile on his face and the camera fades to black.]]> <![CDATA[The Power of Lov(ing Gravy's Body)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44608 Sat, 24 Sep 2022 06:14:44 -0700 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44608
WarGames Morning


“NK, c’mon.”

“...”

“Stop.”

“...*thwp*”

“Okay, it's not holding your breath if you’re sucking oxygen through the side-of-your-mouth.”

“I AM NOT! I will NOT tolerate baseless accusations, Mark Flynn! My integrity as True-Korean-Breath-Holding champion is above reproach!”

“...”

“...I mean…*thwp*.”

“Whatever. I don’t CARE if you hold your breath, I’m not teaching you Kido’s heart punch.”

“*exhaaaaaaaaaaaaale* Mark Flynn! You must! I demand it! WarGames looms! My comrades count on me! If it comes down to us two, I MUST defeat Raion Kido! At his own game!”

“...What’s North Korea’s apex predator?”

“...Pardon?”

“Biggest, meanest animal you got. Top of the food-chain.”

“Aha! You, of course, refer to the noble North Korean muskrat!”

“...No, like a BIG… Carnivore…”

“The North Korean muskrat is MASSIVE! 12-feet long! ALL-CONSIMING! Eating until it legs break under its gargantuan weight.”

“...Really?”

“Muskrat attack is the second-leading cause of True Korean death.”

“...A’ight, Muskrat. How would a muskrat battle a lion?”

“...Battle a lion, Mark Flynn?”

“How would it fight, d’ya figure? Would a muskrat roar like a lion to intimidate its foe?”

“Hardly! Despite its great size, its roar would be a mere squeak!”

“Would it pounce like a lion? Drive claws into its foe like a lion?”

“FEH! You know nothing of muskrats, Mark Flynn! Its paws are soft and fleshy! Its hindlegs designed to scurry-and-flit, not leap!”

“...So, it’d be foolish for a muskrat to battle a lion, like IT was a lion. Right?”

“Undoubtedly so!”

“So. Why would I teach you to fight Kido like you’re Kido.”

“...W-Welll…”

“NK. If you wrestle Kido, trying to be Kido? You’ll lose. Ten-times-outta-ten. Hundred-times-out-of-a-hundred. He’s a better Kido than you. No question.”

“...”

“But, if you go out there. And wrestle like a North Korean War Criminal. Scrapping, biting, surviving… Like only a muskrat can. There’s a chance.”

“...Truly?”

“Sincerely.”

“...Mark Flynn.”

“Yeah, bud?”

“After careful deliberation, UNRELATED TO YOUR COMMENTS… I have decided NOT to learn Comrade Kido’s heart punch.”

“Heheh… Well, Unrelated-to-my-comments… I think it’s the right call.”

“Naturally! I only call rightly! I am ENDOWED with True-Korean wisdom.”

“With that… wisdom… and my knowledge. We move mountains together, bud. We’ll beat Kido.”

“....HA! I CONCUR! OUR COLLABORATION ENCAPSULATES THE VISION OF TRUE KOREA! THE COLLECTIVE SPIRIT!”

“‘Zactly. You and me, bud? We’re a fuckin’ dream team.”

***
…Flynn snaps awake, lifting his head… Fuuuuuuck, even that’s exhausting...

Flynn fatiguedly lowers his hea-. He reflexively squirms! The floor is… wet?

“...Ohhhhhh. Juuuust my blood.”

…Flynn groans, dipping his head into the liquid...

“At least I’m outta the tent…”

Confused bureau employees chitter, circling the bleeding homeless gutter-trash that Agent Spahtz just chucked from the second floor to the first. They murmur and whisper…

Flynn inhales deeply…

…

…Wait. He smells… Dobry?

Flynn pries open his heavy eyes. Yes, shoving hordes of co-workers to the floor, Soda Popinski (in Spahtz’s body) storms forward, tearing the necktie from his collar.

Damn, Gravy’s got super smell...

…

Shit… I forgot my own lesson.

Spahtz halts, looming over the fallen Flynn-Gravy…

I’ve been fighting like… me. And Gravy’s body is fighting back.

Flynn-Gravy tucks his right fist into Gravy’s… CONSTANTLY-WET pocket…

If I’ma survive this… I gotta fight like Gravy…

Spahtz-Popinski heaves Flynn-Gravy up by his jacket collar… Lifting Flynn up to his face.

“Do svidaniya, Flynn. Goodb-”

“POCKET-LIQUID GOOOOOOOOOO!”

FLEKKKK! Mysterious moisture that-you-do-not-want-to-think-about sluuuurps off Flynn-Gravy’s hand! Straight into Spahtz-Popinski’s face.

Horrified, the Russian loosens his grip and paws at his face.

“AH! WHAT-THE-FUCK! WHAT-FUUUUUUUU-”

Popinski wipes his eyes… Just as…

WHAM!

Flynn-Gravy open-palm SMAAAAAAACKS the taste outta Popinski’s mouth.

Gravy’s stupid hands can’t grapple... But they’ll smack someone upside-their-head.

Spahtz-Popinski fully sideflips, turning 450 degrees to land on the OTHER SIDE OF HIS FACE.

Flynn looks down, feeling the swell of an unfamiliar power.

“OhmyGod…” Flynn grins giddily. “...I LOVE these hands.”



Spahtz-Popinski shakes off cobwebs, pushing himself off the floor, sneering furiously.

“...Okay, think like Gravy…”

Flynn-Gravy cuts left, weaving through the crowd. The agents part like the Red Sea, not wanting to touch this greasy weirdo.

Spahtz-Popinski shoves himself up, in hot pursuit.

Flynn-Gravy slips beyond the crowd, When his eyes spot a maintenance man… With a cart of packaged lighttubes.

“...Little on-the-nose, but okay.”

The much-bigger Spahtz-Popinski bowls over terrified, scattering agents.

The Russian finally bursts free of the crowd when…

KERASH! TWO LIGHT TUBES SHATTER ACROSS HIS FACE! SHARDS OF GLASS REND THE FLESH FROM HIS CHEEKS! BLOOD GUSHES DOWN HIS FOREHEAD!

Flynn delightedly glimpses the destroyed tubes shards into his hands, pupils wildly dilating. “Okay, I’m getting it. This is FUCKIN’ gre-”

HUP! In a flash, the semi-blinded Russian grapples the blur before him, scooping him up by his neck scruff! He heaves Flynn like a sack-of-potatoes!

Flynn-Gravy saaaaaaaaaaails through the air! And crashes over the front desk, slamming through company photos, a fishbowl full of pens… and a blonde surfer-dude receptionist.

“Хуесо́с!” The Russian mutters, wiping blood across his forehead…

Flynn snaps to! He darts desperately…

“Okay. Improvise…”

Flynn’s hands fiendishly flit, tinkering impromptu weapons… He wraps his right hand around the emptied fishbowl…

“...Dude, you mugging me?”

Flynn glances downwards. Subconsciously, without thinking about it, Flynn’s left hand started rifling through the receptionist’s jacket pockets…

“...Sorry. New Hands.” Flynn reels his left fist back and finds…

A BLUNT AND A ZIPPO!

…

Flynn looks at the spliff and lighter, contemplatively.

“...Huh. Is it a relapse if it’s not MY body?”

CLAMP! Two hands grab onto Flynn-Gravy’s shoulders, HOISTING him airborne!

The Russian snarls, “I HAVE YOU NOW, FL-”

PLUNK! In a flash, Flynn’s right hand dumps the fishbowl upside-down over Popinski’s head!

Shocked, the Russian loosens one hand’s grip to fish it off! But his neck muscles have tensed up! He’s caught like a hand in a pickle jar!

Flynn, still gripped, flicks the lighter! He lights up!

Flynn presses the blunt against his lips, sucking with all his might.

…

He holds his cheeks tight.

…

Flynn ducks his head up to Soda’s neckline, under the bowl, and… PHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO! Blows a mouthful of smoke into the fishbowl!

The previously-transparent bowl orb clouds up! Fumes billowing! Popinski doubles his efforts battling the bowl!

The receptionist’s eyes widen, seeing this hotbox fishbowl!

“DUUUUUUUDE!”

He reaches for…

…His cell phone?

He punches numbers…

“CHRIS!” He shouts! “It’s me! Your cousin, Marvin!”

…

“Y’know? ‘CHRONIC’ MARVIN PAGE?”

“Y’know that new cannabis idea you've been looking for?” Marvin flips on FaceTime! “WELL LOOK AT THIS!"

The fishbowl is airtight, sealed around Popinski’s neckline! The harder Popinski wriggles, the tighter the bowl clamps!

He… tugs…

…Getting woozy……

Flynn palms both Spahtz-Popinski’s chest and SHOVES HIM BACKWARDS!

Popinski falls backwards and KERASH! THE FISHBOWL BURSTS! GLASS SHARDS SHATTER AND SCATTER INTO THE RUSSIAN’S SKULL! Intermingling with the lighttube shards already embedded into the boxer’s face!

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Spahtz-Popinski howls in pain, his face a crimson mask.

Flynn nods, riding the adrenaline. Gravy’s body loves this. “Keep it goin’…!” Flynn’s eyes dart back to the front desk! A full-service 2-in-1 printer-scanner!

“Hell yes!” Flynn gleams, scooping it off th- OOOP! Flynn’s knee buckle, he barely keeps it aloft!

“ooooof!” Flynn wheezes. “…Little too big to swing…WAIT! I GOT IT!”

Flynn rotates like a shotputter, cradling the printer! Building centrifugal force with each turn!

Spahtz-Popinski rises back up, shakily! He turns towa- OH FUCK!

Flynn spins! HE RELEASES!

Spahtz-Popinski… DUCKS!

The printer SWOOPS over the Russian’s skull…

Sailing toward…

The building’s front windows…

***

“AND AS YOU STAKE BARNCOIN, IT GENERATES BCNFTs! NON-FUNGIBLE TOKENS OF BARNEY GREEN HIGHLIGHTS! TURNING WRESTLING HISTORY INTO PASSIVE INCOME!”

Sweat runs down Barney Green’s forehead… He exhales, having delivered the sales pitch of his life.

…

The security guards look… DEEPLY disturbed.

…Barndog blushes.

“Guess you guys aren’t ready for the future of finance.”

…

“But, your kids are gonna love it.”

KERASH! A printer breaks through glass window! AND INTO THE BARNCOIN-MOBILE’S FRONT SEAT!

The printer slams into the gearshift! The car slips into reverse! Backing away from the booth…

AND CRASHING DOWN THE MOUNTAINSIDE!

[Image: car-crash-roll-over.gif]

***

Clinch! Spahtz-Popinski wraps his arms around Flynn-Gravy… And heaves him over his head! FALLAWAY SLAM!

Flynn-Gravy ragdoll-rolls like a man hurled out of a runaway car, limbs clattering loudly with each turn.

Flynn ends up facedown… In front of the window he just threw a printer out of.

“YOU CANNOT BEST ME, FLYNN!” Spahtz-Popinski howls, pounding his chest.

“I AM BIGGER! FITTER! I DESERVED CHAMPIONSHIP! YOU STOLE THAT FROM ME!” Popinski reels back his fist… And stampedes forward!

…Flynn-Gravy gingerly works his way up to his feet…

“You’re a brick wall, Soda. And you hit like one, too.”

Flynn smiles, as Popinski charges…

“But your game’s always lacked one element.”

Closer… CLOSER…

“The fundamentals.”

As Popinski dashes forward… Flynn slides closer…

And drops flat! The way 80s wrestlers counter an Irish Whip!

…Popinski’s perplexed! He slams on the brakes!

But the floor’s slick with blood! He skids and…

STUMBLES OVER FLYNN-GRAVY!

Popinski clumsily topples forward… Teetering at the broken window’s edge!

…As a massive dumptruck reverses up to the window...

Popinski swivels his hands desperately!

The truck opens its rear hatch…

IT’S FULL OF MANURE!

SODA SUCKS IN HIS GUT! DOING EVERYTHING HE CAN TO ACHIEVE BALANCE!

…

…His heels flatten!

Spahtz-Popinski exhales, relieved.

For a second th-

Spahtz-Popinski feels two violent hands…

Push his back.

“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” Spahtz-Popinski cries, flopping forward…

GLOOOOOOOP. Spahtz-Popinski plops forth, immediately consumed by the manure, the excrement as ravenous in appetite as a North Korean muskrat.



Flynn laughs, dusting his hands triumphantly.

“I think I’m getting used t-”

TERMINATE SIMULATION


Flynn glances up, thrown.

“Simulation?”

…The bureau and its residents freeze in time.

Their faces… pixellate… First, into polygons. Then, into colored squares… Then, ones and zeroes.

Then, the desks. The lights. The stairs.

All now untextured polygons.

…Flynn’s astonished.

“...Fuck… I’m in the Maru. This isn’t Gravy’s work… It’s…”

Flynn-Gravy turns around… Behind him, Flynn’s body.

“Robert Miles…”

“Impressive, Mister Flynn.”

Slow, deliberate clapping.

Flynn-Gravy grimaces bitterly.

“Ugh, usually I’m the one sarcastic-clapping….”

…A hand grabs Flynn’s ankle!

Flynn checks his six. It’s Spahtz-Popinski… Spahtz’s suit melts off Popinski’s body into clouds of pseudocode.

“Flynn” sighs.

“Computer, logout profile 2.”

“NO! FIGHT NOT FINISHED!”

LOGOUT PROFILE 2


“MY VENG-”

BLOOP! Spahtz-Popinski bloops out of existence.

“There. Now, we may negotiate.”

“Negotiate?”

“Indeed. I apologize for… expediting this…appraisal. Ideally, we would have more time to…evaluate a… partnership.”

“Partnership?” Flynn-Gravy spits. “Fuck you. You pitched this last Relentless. We’ll rule the galaxy together, right?”

Flynn-Gravy sneers. “Fuck that, I don’t trust you.”

Robotically, ‘Flynn’ tilts his neck.

“You don’t trust… me?”

“Hell no. You’re pulling a thousand different puppet strings. For all I know, Miles, you’re working for Theo himself! An-”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA”

…Flynn’s stomach drops two feet.

He’s never imagined the emotionless, business-obsessed ‘Robert Miles’.

Laughing.

“...Phew.” “Flynn” catches his breath. “I apologize. It’s just… God, Mark. It never gets old watching you add up all the clues… And arrive at the wrong answer.”

…The codey bits around “Flynn” fade… His suit… Disappears.

“You should’ve known from the beginning, Mark. Theo’s always said…”

…

His eyes…

Remain.

The same.

[Image: spider-man-norman-osborn.gif]

“You’re your own worst enemy.”

***

…There’s not a doubt in your mind, is there, Kido?

Not an ounce of humility.

Not a scrap of shame.

You truly believe you deserve this spot, don’t you?

That you’ve EARNED something that I’m unworthy of.

When you insinuate that I’ve WALLOWED in mediocrity, LANGUISHED IN FUCKING MIDCARD PURGATORY.

…That I didn’t WORK hard enough… for what you won fairly.

Except, Kido. You never won the TV Championship. You never won King of the XWF. You never won WarGames.

But neither did Flynn, right? Why would Kido need those accomplishments when Flynn NEVER won them?

FACT-CHECK.

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-23-at-3-38-48-PM.png]

In 2021, my team won WarGames. Point: Flynn.

Kido, I watched fucking 114 episodes of Saint Seiya just to learn how your brain works. You didn’t have the FUCKING DECENCY to watch LAST YEAR’S WARGAMES?!?!?

You’ve trained withstanding pain… For TWO WEEKS. Lemme ask.

Have you watched gametape?

Seen me sink my teeth into prey?

Cuz I’ve watched you, Kido.

Since day one. Your match against Lux. I met you backstage. I sized you up. Studying the way you breathe, the way you twitch, every mental synapse since January. Dedicated to plotting how I will DISSECT and DECIMATE Raion Kido.

But, sure, two weeks of cramming submissions? An art I’ve dedicated my life to?

Why would YOU need to TRY?

That’s what this comes down to, Kido. Why you’re the avatar of all I wish to destroy.

The golden idol that I will TEAR ASUNDER, PIECE-BY-PIECE.

Why would you work harder than me, Kido?

After all, You’ve never FOUGHT for opportunities. You’ve never had to beg for scraps. Because the tastemakers ensure you feed first.

You’re right, Kido. I’ve never won the TV Title…

…I’ve also never been GIVEN a TV Title match in TEN YEARS.

YOU got one after TWO MONTHS.

I’ve never won King of the XWF… Back in my day, I had to fight 30-MEN TO EVEN SNIFF THAT CROWN…

You competed in an 8-man tournament. And lost.

I’ve entered two 16-men tournaments. Won both.

…One of us bathes in opportunity galore… Gifted treasure troves of title tussles.

And the other… Someone who wallowed decades. For. One. Chance.

23 years-old. That number keeps running up-and-down my fucking head. TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD.

One year older than Thad, when he challenged me to compete at the biggest event in wrestling. When HE called MY number. My FIRST Relentless appearance. At the age of 42.

Where was I at 23, Kido? Not on television, in front of millions.

Driving a car held together with duct tape. Wrestling in highschool gyms. Getting paid $20 when I was promised $50. Ordering one egg from Denny’s ala carte, cuz I couldn’t afford an omelette.

I slept in the locker room, under a blue exercise mat, so I’d always run the ropes first.

I languished, I toiled, I fought tooth-and-nail for EVERY MEAGER CHANCE that scampered across my empty plate.

I didn’t wrestle in the XWF ‘til I was 33. But I’d made it.

…Then, I landed spinefirst on concrete.

My L3 Vertebrae popped like a gusher.

It was a sick joke. I’d spent a decade-plus dumping blood, sweat and guts directly onto that canvas. And I’d never compete again.

…Then, this CHILD. Son of some asshole from my old life… Opens every show for three months. Calling my name.

Saying we’re gonna fight.

That he’ll cement his legacy beating me.

…And I train.

I lift. I stretch. I run. Whatever I can… To have another shot, another day. One more chance to do the only thing that ever meant ANYTHING TO ME.

I didn’t book a return flight home. Win-or-lose, I was ready to die in that ring. That’s how badly I wanted THIS moment. MY moment.

…

How’d that match end, Kido?

I know you didn’t watch it. I’ll tell ya.

We tied. No overtime. Theo handed Thad back his belt… And kicked me out.

And Corey Smith… pinned Thad.

That’s how people remember my masterpiece.

The exciting MIDDLE-ACT of the Duke-Smith rivalry.

Guest-starring Mark Flynn.

Overshadowed.

Irrelevant.

The third-wheel in a one-on-one match.

That’s who I am.

…And knowing you, Kido? I might as well complain to a fish how sore my knees are.

You couldn’t IMAGINE my pain.

You’ve never STRUGGLED.

You’ve never been STRIPPED of your moment.

You’ve never LAID on a dimly-lit motel floor, too angry to sleep.

Wondering why the artform you love hates you so much.

I look across the ring.

And I see you, Kido.

A golden child.

Blessed by the stars themselves.

Born for greatness.

LITERALLY THE SAINT OF A GODDESS.

THE FUCKING CHOSEN ONE.

…


And I see in you everything that I am not.

You’re a “HAVE”, Kido.

Against a “Have Not”.

…

And eight years ago?

I could have given in. Embraced my star-crossed fate. Doomed by chance.

I could have surrendered. Let bedsores consume my spine, as my muscles slowly atrophied…

A pre-corpse that death delayed claiming.

…

But I refused.

Those who neglected me? The powerplayers, executives, the stars, SAINT FUCKING ATHENA?!?!

I denied their claim over my fate.

I created the Optimal Path.

The challenges? The setbacks? The pain? That which you mock?

Became climbing tools.

I dedicated myself to reaching the mountaintop.

No matter what I must do, who I must hurt…

I’d. Make it.

…

And in my path? Kido.

The ‘Everyman’ hero.

Managed by the COMPANY OWNER.

BLESSED BY A FUCKING GODDESS.

…

I see ARROGANCE.

Someone who’d challenge a submissions master to a submissions match, WITHOUT KNOWING A GODDAMN ARMBAR.

Someone competing on the train from BttF3, and never referenced the model.

(1897 Rogers 4-6-0 mixed-traffic engine. Yes, the film takes place in 1885. Check my fucking research.)

Have you read documentation on proper train deceleration technique?

Checked my injury history to exploit my weakest joints?

…No. If you didn’t watch 2021 WarGames, I can’t imagine you performed  even the MOST BASIC RESEARCH.

…Because you’re the hero, huh, Kido?

The story’s protagonist.

You’ll believe in yourself, FIGHTING SPIRIT, Heart-of-the-Cards… You’ll win.

Like Saint Seiya, the psychopath who heart-punched his friend so hard, he died.

You’ll defeat the villain.

Because heroes beat villains, right?

…

I reject your narrative.

This isn’t YOUR fairytale. Nor YOUR shonen manga.

This is my story.

A man destiny rejected.

Who rejected destiny right back.

This Sunday, I’ll face one blessed-by-management, blessed-by-media, BLESSED-BY-GODDESS.

I will latch onto your wrist as if I’d seize the threads of fate itself.

And as I crank your shoulder joint, as your muscles tear from fucking bone… Like a prisoner’s chains stripped free…

As you weep, squeal, gnash in mind-warping agony… Pain so perverse your blessed mind can’t imagine it.

…It’ll be music to my ears.

The gate to legend itself opens unto me.

A lifetime’s work…fulfilled.

As I Reach the End…

Of the Optimal Path.

OOC:wordcounter.com_word_count:3000]]>
WarGames Morning


“NK, c’mon.”

“...”

“Stop.”

“...*thwp*”

“Okay, it's not holding your breath if you’re sucking oxygen through the side-of-your-mouth.”

“I AM NOT! I will NOT tolerate baseless accusations, Mark Flynn! My integrity as True-Korean-Breath-Holding champion is above reproach!”

“...”

“...I mean…*thwp*.”

“Whatever. I don’t CARE if you hold your breath, I’m not teaching you Kido’s heart punch.”

“*exhaaaaaaaaaaaaale* Mark Flynn! You must! I demand it! WarGames looms! My comrades count on me! If it comes down to us two, I MUST defeat Raion Kido! At his own game!”

“...What’s North Korea’s apex predator?”

“...Pardon?”

“Biggest, meanest animal you got. Top of the food-chain.”

“Aha! You, of course, refer to the noble North Korean muskrat!”

“...No, like a BIG… Carnivore…”

“The North Korean muskrat is MASSIVE! 12-feet long! ALL-CONSIMING! Eating until it legs break under its gargantuan weight.”

“...Really?”

“Muskrat attack is the second-leading cause of True Korean death.”

“...A’ight, Muskrat. How would a muskrat battle a lion?”

“...Battle a lion, Mark Flynn?”

“How would it fight, d’ya figure? Would a muskrat roar like a lion to intimidate its foe?”

“Hardly! Despite its great size, its roar would be a mere squeak!”

“Would it pounce like a lion? Drive claws into its foe like a lion?”

“FEH! You know nothing of muskrats, Mark Flynn! Its paws are soft and fleshy! Its hindlegs designed to scurry-and-flit, not leap!”

“...So, it’d be foolish for a muskrat to battle a lion, like IT was a lion. Right?”

“Undoubtedly so!”

“So. Why would I teach you to fight Kido like you’re Kido.”

“...W-Welll…”

“NK. If you wrestle Kido, trying to be Kido? You’ll lose. Ten-times-outta-ten. Hundred-times-out-of-a-hundred. He’s a better Kido than you. No question.”

“...”

“But, if you go out there. And wrestle like a North Korean War Criminal. Scrapping, biting, surviving… Like only a muskrat can. There’s a chance.”

“...Truly?”

“Sincerely.”

“...Mark Flynn.”

“Yeah, bud?”

“After careful deliberation, UNRELATED TO YOUR COMMENTS… I have decided NOT to learn Comrade Kido’s heart punch.”

“Heheh… Well, Unrelated-to-my-comments… I think it’s the right call.”

“Naturally! I only call rightly! I am ENDOWED with True-Korean wisdom.”

“With that… wisdom… and my knowledge. We move mountains together, bud. We’ll beat Kido.”

“....HA! I CONCUR! OUR COLLABORATION ENCAPSULATES THE VISION OF TRUE KOREA! THE COLLECTIVE SPIRIT!”

“‘Zactly. You and me, bud? We’re a fuckin’ dream team.”

***
…Flynn snaps awake, lifting his head… Fuuuuuuck, even that’s exhausting...

Flynn fatiguedly lowers his hea-. He reflexively squirms! The floor is… wet?

“...Ohhhhhh. Juuuust my blood.”

…Flynn groans, dipping his head into the liquid...

“At least I’m outta the tent…”

Confused bureau employees chitter, circling the bleeding homeless gutter-trash that Agent Spahtz just chucked from the second floor to the first. They murmur and whisper…

Flynn inhales deeply…

…

…Wait. He smells… Dobry?

Flynn pries open his heavy eyes. Yes, shoving hordes of co-workers to the floor, Soda Popinski (in Spahtz’s body) storms forward, tearing the necktie from his collar.

Damn, Gravy’s got super smell...

…

Shit… I forgot my own lesson.

Spahtz halts, looming over the fallen Flynn-Gravy…

I’ve been fighting like… me. And Gravy’s body is fighting back.

Flynn-Gravy tucks his right fist into Gravy’s… CONSTANTLY-WET pocket…

If I’ma survive this… I gotta fight like Gravy…

Spahtz-Popinski heaves Flynn-Gravy up by his jacket collar… Lifting Flynn up to his face.

“Do svidaniya, Flynn. Goodb-”

“POCKET-LIQUID GOOOOOOOOOO!”

FLEKKKK! Mysterious moisture that-you-do-not-want-to-think-about sluuuurps off Flynn-Gravy’s hand! Straight into Spahtz-Popinski’s face.

Horrified, the Russian loosens his grip and paws at his face.

“AH! WHAT-THE-FUCK! WHAT-FUUUUUUUU-”

Popinski wipes his eyes… Just as…

WHAM!

Flynn-Gravy open-palm SMAAAAAAACKS the taste outta Popinski’s mouth.

Gravy’s stupid hands can’t grapple... But they’ll smack someone upside-their-head.

Spahtz-Popinski fully sideflips, turning 450 degrees to land on the OTHER SIDE OF HIS FACE.

Flynn looks down, feeling the swell of an unfamiliar power.

“OhmyGod…” Flynn grins giddily. “...I LOVE these hands.”



Spahtz-Popinski shakes off cobwebs, pushing himself off the floor, sneering furiously.

“...Okay, think like Gravy…”

Flynn-Gravy cuts left, weaving through the crowd. The agents part like the Red Sea, not wanting to touch this greasy weirdo.

Spahtz-Popinski shoves himself up, in hot pursuit.

Flynn-Gravy slips beyond the crowd, When his eyes spot a maintenance man… With a cart of packaged lighttubes.

“...Little on-the-nose, but okay.”

The much-bigger Spahtz-Popinski bowls over terrified, scattering agents.

The Russian finally bursts free of the crowd when…

KERASH! TWO LIGHT TUBES SHATTER ACROSS HIS FACE! SHARDS OF GLASS REND THE FLESH FROM HIS CHEEKS! BLOOD GUSHES DOWN HIS FOREHEAD!

Flynn delightedly glimpses the destroyed tubes shards into his hands, pupils wildly dilating. “Okay, I’m getting it. This is FUCKIN’ gre-”

HUP! In a flash, the semi-blinded Russian grapples the blur before him, scooping him up by his neck scruff! He heaves Flynn like a sack-of-potatoes!

Flynn-Gravy saaaaaaaaaaails through the air! And crashes over the front desk, slamming through company photos, a fishbowl full of pens… and a blonde surfer-dude receptionist.

“Хуесо́с!” The Russian mutters, wiping blood across his forehead…

Flynn snaps to! He darts desperately…

“Okay. Improvise…”

Flynn’s hands fiendishly flit, tinkering impromptu weapons… He wraps his right hand around the emptied fishbowl…

“...Dude, you mugging me?”

Flynn glances downwards. Subconsciously, without thinking about it, Flynn’s left hand started rifling through the receptionist’s jacket pockets…

“...Sorry. New Hands.” Flynn reels his left fist back and finds…

A BLUNT AND A ZIPPO!

…

Flynn looks at the spliff and lighter, contemplatively.

“...Huh. Is it a relapse if it’s not MY body?”

CLAMP! Two hands grab onto Flynn-Gravy’s shoulders, HOISTING him airborne!

The Russian snarls, “I HAVE YOU NOW, FL-”

PLUNK! In a flash, Flynn’s right hand dumps the fishbowl upside-down over Popinski’s head!

Shocked, the Russian loosens one hand’s grip to fish it off! But his neck muscles have tensed up! He’s caught like a hand in a pickle jar!

Flynn, still gripped, flicks the lighter! He lights up!

Flynn presses the blunt against his lips, sucking with all his might.

…

He holds his cheeks tight.

…

Flynn ducks his head up to Soda’s neckline, under the bowl, and… PHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO! Blows a mouthful of smoke into the fishbowl!

The previously-transparent bowl orb clouds up! Fumes billowing! Popinski doubles his efforts battling the bowl!

The receptionist’s eyes widen, seeing this hotbox fishbowl!

“DUUUUUUUDE!”

He reaches for…

…His cell phone?

He punches numbers…

“CHRIS!” He shouts! “It’s me! Your cousin, Marvin!”

…

“Y’know? ‘CHRONIC’ MARVIN PAGE?”

“Y’know that new cannabis idea you've been looking for?” Marvin flips on FaceTime! “WELL LOOK AT THIS!"

The fishbowl is airtight, sealed around Popinski’s neckline! The harder Popinski wriggles, the tighter the bowl clamps!

He… tugs…

…Getting woozy……

Flynn palms both Spahtz-Popinski’s chest and SHOVES HIM BACKWARDS!

Popinski falls backwards and KERASH! THE FISHBOWL BURSTS! GLASS SHARDS SHATTER AND SCATTER INTO THE RUSSIAN’S SKULL! Intermingling with the lighttube shards already embedded into the boxer’s face!

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Spahtz-Popinski howls in pain, his face a crimson mask.

Flynn nods, riding the adrenaline. Gravy’s body loves this. “Keep it goin’…!” Flynn’s eyes dart back to the front desk! A full-service 2-in-1 printer-scanner!

“Hell yes!” Flynn gleams, scooping it off th- OOOP! Flynn’s knee buckle, he barely keeps it aloft!

“ooooof!” Flynn wheezes. “…Little too big to swing…WAIT! I GOT IT!”

Flynn rotates like a shotputter, cradling the printer! Building centrifugal force with each turn!

Spahtz-Popinski rises back up, shakily! He turns towa- OH FUCK!

Flynn spins! HE RELEASES!

Spahtz-Popinski… DUCKS!

The printer SWOOPS over the Russian’s skull…

Sailing toward…

The building’s front windows…

***

“AND AS YOU STAKE BARNCOIN, IT GENERATES BCNFTs! NON-FUNGIBLE TOKENS OF BARNEY GREEN HIGHLIGHTS! TURNING WRESTLING HISTORY INTO PASSIVE INCOME!”

Sweat runs down Barney Green’s forehead… He exhales, having delivered the sales pitch of his life.

…

The security guards look… DEEPLY disturbed.

…Barndog blushes.

“Guess you guys aren’t ready for the future of finance.”

…

“But, your kids are gonna love it.”

KERASH! A printer breaks through glass window! AND INTO THE BARNCOIN-MOBILE’S FRONT SEAT!

The printer slams into the gearshift! The car slips into reverse! Backing away from the booth…

AND CRASHING DOWN THE MOUNTAINSIDE!

[Image: car-crash-roll-over.gif]

***

Clinch! Spahtz-Popinski wraps his arms around Flynn-Gravy… And heaves him over his head! FALLAWAY SLAM!

Flynn-Gravy ragdoll-rolls like a man hurled out of a runaway car, limbs clattering loudly with each turn.

Flynn ends up facedown… In front of the window he just threw a printer out of.

“YOU CANNOT BEST ME, FLYNN!” Spahtz-Popinski howls, pounding his chest.

“I AM BIGGER! FITTER! I DESERVED CHAMPIONSHIP! YOU STOLE THAT FROM ME!” Popinski reels back his fist… And stampedes forward!

…Flynn-Gravy gingerly works his way up to his feet…

“You’re a brick wall, Soda. And you hit like one, too.”

Flynn smiles, as Popinski charges…

“But your game’s always lacked one element.”

Closer… CLOSER…

“The fundamentals.”

As Popinski dashes forward… Flynn slides closer…

And drops flat! The way 80s wrestlers counter an Irish Whip!

…Popinski’s perplexed! He slams on the brakes!

But the floor’s slick with blood! He skids and…

STUMBLES OVER FLYNN-GRAVY!

Popinski clumsily topples forward… Teetering at the broken window’s edge!

…As a massive dumptruck reverses up to the window...

Popinski swivels his hands desperately!

The truck opens its rear hatch…

IT’S FULL OF MANURE!

SODA SUCKS IN HIS GUT! DOING EVERYTHING HE CAN TO ACHIEVE BALANCE!

…

…His heels flatten!

Spahtz-Popinski exhales, relieved.

For a second th-

Spahtz-Popinski feels two violent hands…

Push his back.

“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” Spahtz-Popinski cries, flopping forward…

GLOOOOOOOP. Spahtz-Popinski plops forth, immediately consumed by the manure, the excrement as ravenous in appetite as a North Korean muskrat.



Flynn laughs, dusting his hands triumphantly.

“I think I’m getting used t-”

TERMINATE SIMULATION


Flynn glances up, thrown.

“Simulation?”

…The bureau and its residents freeze in time.

Their faces… pixellate… First, into polygons. Then, into colored squares… Then, ones and zeroes.

Then, the desks. The lights. The stairs.

All now untextured polygons.

…Flynn’s astonished.

“...Fuck… I’m in the Maru. This isn’t Gravy’s work… It’s…”

Flynn-Gravy turns around… Behind him, Flynn’s body.

“Robert Miles…”

“Impressive, Mister Flynn.”

Slow, deliberate clapping.

Flynn-Gravy grimaces bitterly.

“Ugh, usually I’m the one sarcastic-clapping….”

…A hand grabs Flynn’s ankle!

Flynn checks his six. It’s Spahtz-Popinski… Spahtz’s suit melts off Popinski’s body into clouds of pseudocode.

“Flynn” sighs.

“Computer, logout profile 2.”

“NO! FIGHT NOT FINISHED!”

LOGOUT PROFILE 2


“MY VENG-”

BLOOP! Spahtz-Popinski bloops out of existence.

“There. Now, we may negotiate.”

“Negotiate?”

“Indeed. I apologize for… expediting this…appraisal. Ideally, we would have more time to…evaluate a… partnership.”

“Partnership?” Flynn-Gravy spits. “Fuck you. You pitched this last Relentless. We’ll rule the galaxy together, right?”

Flynn-Gravy sneers. “Fuck that, I don’t trust you.”

Robotically, ‘Flynn’ tilts his neck.

“You don’t trust… me?”

“Hell no. You’re pulling a thousand different puppet strings. For all I know, Miles, you’re working for Theo himself! An-”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA”

…Flynn’s stomach drops two feet.

He’s never imagined the emotionless, business-obsessed ‘Robert Miles’.

Laughing.

“...Phew.” “Flynn” catches his breath. “I apologize. It’s just… God, Mark. It never gets old watching you add up all the clues… And arrive at the wrong answer.”

…The codey bits around “Flynn” fade… His suit… Disappears.

“You should’ve known from the beginning, Mark. Theo’s always said…”

…

His eyes…

Remain.

The same.

[Image: spider-man-norman-osborn.gif]

“You’re your own worst enemy.”

***

…There’s not a doubt in your mind, is there, Kido?

Not an ounce of humility.

Not a scrap of shame.

You truly believe you deserve this spot, don’t you?

That you’ve EARNED something that I’m unworthy of.

When you insinuate that I’ve WALLOWED in mediocrity, LANGUISHED IN FUCKING MIDCARD PURGATORY.

…That I didn’t WORK hard enough… for what you won fairly.

Except, Kido. You never won the TV Championship. You never won King of the XWF. You never won WarGames.

But neither did Flynn, right? Why would Kido need those accomplishments when Flynn NEVER won them?

FACT-CHECK.

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-23-at-3-38-48-PM.png]

In 2021, my team won WarGames. Point: Flynn.

Kido, I watched fucking 114 episodes of Saint Seiya just to learn how your brain works. You didn’t have the FUCKING DECENCY to watch LAST YEAR’S WARGAMES?!?!?

You’ve trained withstanding pain… For TWO WEEKS. Lemme ask.

Have you watched gametape?

Seen me sink my teeth into prey?

Cuz I’ve watched you, Kido.

Since day one. Your match against Lux. I met you backstage. I sized you up. Studying the way you breathe, the way you twitch, every mental synapse since January. Dedicated to plotting how I will DISSECT and DECIMATE Raion Kido.

But, sure, two weeks of cramming submissions? An art I’ve dedicated my life to?

Why would YOU need to TRY?

That’s what this comes down to, Kido. Why you’re the avatar of all I wish to destroy.

The golden idol that I will TEAR ASUNDER, PIECE-BY-PIECE.

Why would you work harder than me, Kido?

After all, You’ve never FOUGHT for opportunities. You’ve never had to beg for scraps. Because the tastemakers ensure you feed first.

You’re right, Kido. I’ve never won the TV Title…

…I’ve also never been GIVEN a TV Title match in TEN YEARS.

YOU got one after TWO MONTHS.

I’ve never won King of the XWF… Back in my day, I had to fight 30-MEN TO EVEN SNIFF THAT CROWN…

You competed in an 8-man tournament. And lost.

I’ve entered two 16-men tournaments. Won both.

…One of us bathes in opportunity galore… Gifted treasure troves of title tussles.

And the other… Someone who wallowed decades. For. One. Chance.

23 years-old. That number keeps running up-and-down my fucking head. TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD.

One year older than Thad, when he challenged me to compete at the biggest event in wrestling. When HE called MY number. My FIRST Relentless appearance. At the age of 42.

Where was I at 23, Kido? Not on television, in front of millions.

Driving a car held together with duct tape. Wrestling in highschool gyms. Getting paid $20 when I was promised $50. Ordering one egg from Denny’s ala carte, cuz I couldn’t afford an omelette.

I slept in the locker room, under a blue exercise mat, so I’d always run the ropes first.

I languished, I toiled, I fought tooth-and-nail for EVERY MEAGER CHANCE that scampered across my empty plate.

I didn’t wrestle in the XWF ‘til I was 33. But I’d made it.

…Then, I landed spinefirst on concrete.

My L3 Vertebrae popped like a gusher.

It was a sick joke. I’d spent a decade-plus dumping blood, sweat and guts directly onto that canvas. And I’d never compete again.

…Then, this CHILD. Son of some asshole from my old life… Opens every show for three months. Calling my name.

Saying we’re gonna fight.

That he’ll cement his legacy beating me.

…And I train.

I lift. I stretch. I run. Whatever I can… To have another shot, another day. One more chance to do the only thing that ever meant ANYTHING TO ME.

I didn’t book a return flight home. Win-or-lose, I was ready to die in that ring. That’s how badly I wanted THIS moment. MY moment.

…

How’d that match end, Kido?

I know you didn’t watch it. I’ll tell ya.

We tied. No overtime. Theo handed Thad back his belt… And kicked me out.

And Corey Smith… pinned Thad.

That’s how people remember my masterpiece.

The exciting MIDDLE-ACT of the Duke-Smith rivalry.

Guest-starring Mark Flynn.

Overshadowed.

Irrelevant.

The third-wheel in a one-on-one match.

That’s who I am.

…And knowing you, Kido? I might as well complain to a fish how sore my knees are.

You couldn’t IMAGINE my pain.

You’ve never STRUGGLED.

You’ve never been STRIPPED of your moment.

You’ve never LAID on a dimly-lit motel floor, too angry to sleep.

Wondering why the artform you love hates you so much.

I look across the ring.

And I see you, Kido.

A golden child.

Blessed by the stars themselves.

Born for greatness.

LITERALLY THE SAINT OF A GODDESS.

THE FUCKING CHOSEN ONE.

…


And I see in you everything that I am not.

You’re a “HAVE”, Kido.

Against a “Have Not”.

…

And eight years ago?

I could have given in. Embraced my star-crossed fate. Doomed by chance.

I could have surrendered. Let bedsores consume my spine, as my muscles slowly atrophied…

A pre-corpse that death delayed claiming.

…

But I refused.

Those who neglected me? The powerplayers, executives, the stars, SAINT FUCKING ATHENA?!?!

I denied their claim over my fate.

I created the Optimal Path.

The challenges? The setbacks? The pain? That which you mock?

Became climbing tools.

I dedicated myself to reaching the mountaintop.

No matter what I must do, who I must hurt…

I’d. Make it.

…

And in my path? Kido.

The ‘Everyman’ hero.

Managed by the COMPANY OWNER.

BLESSED BY A FUCKING GODDESS.

…

I see ARROGANCE.

Someone who’d challenge a submissions master to a submissions match, WITHOUT KNOWING A GODDAMN ARMBAR.

Someone competing on the train from BttF3, and never referenced the model.

(1897 Rogers 4-6-0 mixed-traffic engine. Yes, the film takes place in 1885. Check my fucking research.)

Have you read documentation on proper train deceleration technique?

Checked my injury history to exploit my weakest joints?

…No. If you didn’t watch 2021 WarGames, I can’t imagine you performed  even the MOST BASIC RESEARCH.

…Because you’re the hero, huh, Kido?

The story’s protagonist.

You’ll believe in yourself, FIGHTING SPIRIT, Heart-of-the-Cards… You’ll win.

Like Saint Seiya, the psychopath who heart-punched his friend so hard, he died.

You’ll defeat the villain.

Because heroes beat villains, right?

…

I reject your narrative.

This isn’t YOUR fairytale. Nor YOUR shonen manga.

This is my story.

A man destiny rejected.

Who rejected destiny right back.

This Sunday, I’ll face one blessed-by-management, blessed-by-media, BLESSED-BY-GODDESS.

I will latch onto your wrist as if I’d seize the threads of fate itself.

And as I crank your shoulder joint, as your muscles tear from fucking bone… Like a prisoner’s chains stripped free…

As you weep, squeal, gnash in mind-warping agony… Pain so perverse your blessed mind can’t imagine it.

…It’ll be music to my ears.

The gate to legend itself opens unto me.

A lifetime’s work…fulfilled.

As I Reach the End…

Of the Optimal Path.

OOC:wordcounter.com_word_count:3000]]> <![CDATA[THE NEW FACE OF ANARCHY]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44594 Fri, 23 Sep 2022 16:38:08 -0700 EDWARD THE GREAT]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44594

“EDWARD NEED MANAGER!”


Anarchy left the airwaves hours ago. Backstage we find our new Anarchy Champion scurrying down a corridor with a worried expression. Both belts clenched tightly to his chest.


“EDWARD NEED MANAGER!”


Backstage was pretty barren. Everyone was in a hurry to get out, get a good night's sleep, and begin down the road to Relentless.


Still…


“EDWARD NEED MANAGER!”


*SNORT SNORT*


EDWARD looked over to catering where he saw XWF Director of Craft Service, Taco, standing on the messy remains of what used to be the catering table.


Relieved EDWARD smiled. “YOU WILL DO!”


EDWARD presented Taco with the crude Crayola drawing that had been passed to him in an effort to explain his upcoming title defense at Relentless.


[Image: EDWARDPOOP.jpg]


"WHAT THIS MEAN!?!"


Taco took a quick glance at the paper before gobbling up some cheesecake crumbs.


*SNORT*


EDWARD nodded as if Taco said something thought provoking. 


"EDWARD SEE. WHY DUNGUS THOUGH?"


Taco continued to make nondescript pig noises. 


EDWARD listened attentively. 


"BUT WHAT THROWING DOG MAN IN DUNGUS PROVE!?"


The seemingly random snorting and squealing seemed to resonate well with EDWARD. 


"EDWARD ALREADY STRONGEST WARRIOR!"


EDWARD thrust his two title belts out for Taco to get a better look.


"EDWARD ALREADY HAVE TWO SHINIES AND ONLY HAVE TWO FIGHTS!"


Taco snorted!


"THAT NOT MAKE SENSE! DOG MAN ALREADY LOSE BIG MATCH TO SUCKY GIRL. THAT MEAN DOG MAN WEAK AND NOT EVEN WARRIOR. SHOULD BE DOG WOMAN!"


"DOG WOMAN SHOULD BE FORCED TO COOK FOR REAL WARRIORS! NOT FIGHT FOR SHINY!"


"BACK ON ISLAND, IF MAN LOSE TO WOMAN, WOMAN KILLED FOR BEING WITCH AND MAN FORCED TO TUCK LOINCLOTH AND DO WOMAN WORK."


EDWARD's brow furrows as his lips frown.


"EDWARD NEED TO TELL STUPID WORLD HOW WRONG IT IS! EDWARD NEED BIG PLATFORM TO YELL FROM!"


EDWARD leans in close to Taco and whispers.


"pig know where edward can find platform big enough to make sure all people listen to edward?"


Taco snorted. 


LATER


[Image: EDWARDNEWS.jpg]


"Hello, I'm Tucker Carlson, and tonight I'm joined by XWF Anarchy Champion and alleged caveman, Edward."


"HELLO MAN WITH DEAD ANIMAL!"


Tucker just stared into the camera blankly for a moment. 


"Yes... Well, EDWARD, we agreed to bring you onto the show today, because you have a very interesting opinion on women's rights. It seems that you think that they have too many. Would you care to elaborate?"


"NO, EDWARD GO BEFORE WE START, BUT EDWARD WOULD LIKE TO TALK ABOUT DOG WOMEN AND HOW MAN GIVE OPPORTUNITY SHE NOT DESERVE! MAN OF THIS WORLD NEED TO LEARN WHAT IT MEAN TO BE MAN! YOU EVER EVEN HOLD SPEAR, HIDE HEAD?"


"Uhh... No, I can't say that I have."


"OF COURSE NOT, CAUSE YOU WEAK! ALL MAN WEAK!"


"MODERN MAN LIKE SIT AROUND AND COMPLAIN ABOUT PROBLEM INSTEAD OF BEING STRONG WARRIOR AND FACE PROBLEM HEAD ON! MODERN MAN FEEL LIKE EVERYTHING OWED TO HIM AND NOT SHOULD FIGHT FOR NOTHING!"


"TAKE DOG WOMAN WHO SOMEHOW ALLOWED TO CHALLENGE EDWARD FOR SHINY AS EXAMPLE! DOG WOMAN LOSE TO SMALL GIRL WHO LOOK LIKE CHILD IN FINAL FIGHT IN TOURNAMENT OF SHOW HE NOW CHALLENGE BELT FOR! DOG WOMAN NOT DESERVE BELT IF LOSE TO WOMAN! WHY NOT WOMAN FIGHT EDWARD? SEEM TO EDWARD WOMEN STRONGER THAN MEN WHO NOT FROM ISLAND. SHOULD JUST THROW ALL RULES OUT WINDOW AND HAVE WOMEN CHALLENGE!"


"Actually Edward, did you know that throughout its history, the Anarchy Championship has been won and carried predominately by women?" 


"WHAT WORLD COME TO? EDWARD FEEL IT DUTY TO TEACH WORLD THAT MAN STRONG, WOMAN WEAK, AND MAN THAT LOSE TO WOMAN WEAKER THAN WEAK! EDWARD WOULD SAY HE TAKE OUT TRASH, BUT SMALL ANIMAL TELL EDWARD THAT TO KEEP SHINY HE MUST TAKE OUT THE DUNGUS!"


"DOG WOMAN MIGHT NOT FEEL SHAME OF LOSING MANHOOD TO WOMAN, BUT HE WILL TASTE STENCH OF DEFEAT WHEN EDWARD BURY HIM UP TO EYEBROWS IN DUNGUS TO KEEP SHINY AND CONTINUE TO PROVE THAT EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR ON ANY ISLAND!"


"We'll be right back!"


During the break, a production assistant approached EDWARD with a phone in hand.


"Excuse me, Edward? There's a call for you. A Vincent Lane?"


"BOOKER MAN ON TALK BOX? GIVE!"


"HELLO!?"


"Edward, what are you doing!?"


"EDWARD USE PLATFORM TO GET MESSAGE OUT!"


"You need to stop talking and leave, NOW!"


"WHY!? EDWARD HAVE SHINY! PIG SAY EDWARD NEED DO TV!"


You could hear the panic in Vinnie's voice at the thought of the bad PR. "...wat... No EDWARD, it's... UH??? !!! A trick! YEAH! - They just want to take your shiny!"


EDWARD'S EYES FILLED WITH RAGE AT THE THOUGHT OF ANYONE TRYING TO TAKE HIS PRECIOUS SHINY!



















AND HE SMASHED EVERYTHING BETWEEN HIM AND THE EXIT!


MUCH LATER


EDWARD had been called to XWF headquarters after that media fiasco where Vinnie was currently in the process of explaining some of the finer points of representing the XWF.


"EDWARD NOT MEAN TO CAUSE HARM. THIS ALL START BECAUSE EDWARD NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT DO TO KEEP SHINY."


Lane sensed an out, and a sly grin fell over him.


"Oh! I can help with that dude! It's super simple! All you have to do is wait for the bell to ring and race Jason Cashe to jump into the manure dude! EDWARD strongest warrior, but is he fastest?"


"YES!"


"Cool, then you should have no problems! Now, as a favor for me helping you out, could you please just stay away from the media between now and then?"


"Uh... OK, EDWARD NOT USE PLATFORM."


Lane seemed pleased with himself. "Good, good. It's refreshing that Anarchy will finally have a champion that it can be proud of!"


EDWARD didn't know why Lane lied to him just then, but played along. Fortunately, he was inclined to believe the word of a pig over the word of the (questionable)man who booked Dog Woman in this match to begin with.


"YES... ANARCHY HAVE STRONGEST WARRIOR..."]]>

“EDWARD NEED MANAGER!”


Anarchy left the airwaves hours ago. Backstage we find our new Anarchy Champion scurrying down a corridor with a worried expression. Both belts clenched tightly to his chest.


“EDWARD NEED MANAGER!”


Backstage was pretty barren. Everyone was in a hurry to get out, get a good night's sleep, and begin down the road to Relentless.


Still…


“EDWARD NEED MANAGER!”


*SNORT SNORT*


EDWARD looked over to catering where he saw XWF Director of Craft Service, Taco, standing on the messy remains of what used to be the catering table.


Relieved EDWARD smiled. “YOU WILL DO!”


EDWARD presented Taco with the crude Crayola drawing that had been passed to him in an effort to explain his upcoming title defense at Relentless.


[Image: EDWARDPOOP.jpg]


"WHAT THIS MEAN!?!"


Taco took a quick glance at the paper before gobbling up some cheesecake crumbs.


*SNORT*


EDWARD nodded as if Taco said something thought provoking. 


"EDWARD SEE. WHY DUNGUS THOUGH?"


Taco continued to make nondescript pig noises. 


EDWARD listened attentively. 


"BUT WHAT THROWING DOG MAN IN DUNGUS PROVE!?"


The seemingly random snorting and squealing seemed to resonate well with EDWARD. 


"EDWARD ALREADY STRONGEST WARRIOR!"


EDWARD thrust his two title belts out for Taco to get a better look.


"EDWARD ALREADY HAVE TWO SHINIES AND ONLY HAVE TWO FIGHTS!"


Taco snorted!


"THAT NOT MAKE SENSE! DOG MAN ALREADY LOSE BIG MATCH TO SUCKY GIRL. THAT MEAN DOG MAN WEAK AND NOT EVEN WARRIOR. SHOULD BE DOG WOMAN!"


"DOG WOMAN SHOULD BE FORCED TO COOK FOR REAL WARRIORS! NOT FIGHT FOR SHINY!"


"BACK ON ISLAND, IF MAN LOSE TO WOMAN, WOMAN KILLED FOR BEING WITCH AND MAN FORCED TO TUCK LOINCLOTH AND DO WOMAN WORK."


EDWARD's brow furrows as his lips frown.


"EDWARD NEED TO TELL STUPID WORLD HOW WRONG IT IS! EDWARD NEED BIG PLATFORM TO YELL FROM!"


EDWARD leans in close to Taco and whispers.


"pig know where edward can find platform big enough to make sure all people listen to edward?"


Taco snorted. 


LATER


[Image: EDWARDNEWS.jpg]


"Hello, I'm Tucker Carlson, and tonight I'm joined by XWF Anarchy Champion and alleged caveman, Edward."


"HELLO MAN WITH DEAD ANIMAL!"


Tucker just stared into the camera blankly for a moment. 


"Yes... Well, EDWARD, we agreed to bring you onto the show today, because you have a very interesting opinion on women's rights. It seems that you think that they have too many. Would you care to elaborate?"


"NO, EDWARD GO BEFORE WE START, BUT EDWARD WOULD LIKE TO TALK ABOUT DOG WOMEN AND HOW MAN GIVE OPPORTUNITY SHE NOT DESERVE! MAN OF THIS WORLD NEED TO LEARN WHAT IT MEAN TO BE MAN! YOU EVER EVEN HOLD SPEAR, HIDE HEAD?"


"Uhh... No, I can't say that I have."


"OF COURSE NOT, CAUSE YOU WEAK! ALL MAN WEAK!"


"MODERN MAN LIKE SIT AROUND AND COMPLAIN ABOUT PROBLEM INSTEAD OF BEING STRONG WARRIOR AND FACE PROBLEM HEAD ON! MODERN MAN FEEL LIKE EVERYTHING OWED TO HIM AND NOT SHOULD FIGHT FOR NOTHING!"


"TAKE DOG WOMAN WHO SOMEHOW ALLOWED TO CHALLENGE EDWARD FOR SHINY AS EXAMPLE! DOG WOMAN LOSE TO SMALL GIRL WHO LOOK LIKE CHILD IN FINAL FIGHT IN TOURNAMENT OF SHOW HE NOW CHALLENGE BELT FOR! DOG WOMAN NOT DESERVE BELT IF LOSE TO WOMAN! WHY NOT WOMAN FIGHT EDWARD? SEEM TO EDWARD WOMEN STRONGER THAN MEN WHO NOT FROM ISLAND. SHOULD JUST THROW ALL RULES OUT WINDOW AND HAVE WOMEN CHALLENGE!"


"Actually Edward, did you know that throughout its history, the Anarchy Championship has been won and carried predominately by women?" 


"WHAT WORLD COME TO? EDWARD FEEL IT DUTY TO TEACH WORLD THAT MAN STRONG, WOMAN WEAK, AND MAN THAT LOSE TO WOMAN WEAKER THAN WEAK! EDWARD WOULD SAY HE TAKE OUT TRASH, BUT SMALL ANIMAL TELL EDWARD THAT TO KEEP SHINY HE MUST TAKE OUT THE DUNGUS!"


"DOG WOMAN MIGHT NOT FEEL SHAME OF LOSING MANHOOD TO WOMAN, BUT HE WILL TASTE STENCH OF DEFEAT WHEN EDWARD BURY HIM UP TO EYEBROWS IN DUNGUS TO KEEP SHINY AND CONTINUE TO PROVE THAT EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR ON ANY ISLAND!"


"We'll be right back!"


During the break, a production assistant approached EDWARD with a phone in hand.


"Excuse me, Edward? There's a call for you. A Vincent Lane?"


"BOOKER MAN ON TALK BOX? GIVE!"


"HELLO!?"


"Edward, what are you doing!?"


"EDWARD USE PLATFORM TO GET MESSAGE OUT!"


"You need to stop talking and leave, NOW!"


"WHY!? EDWARD HAVE SHINY! PIG SAY EDWARD NEED DO TV!"


You could hear the panic in Vinnie's voice at the thought of the bad PR. "...wat... No EDWARD, it's... UH??? !!! A trick! YEAH! - They just want to take your shiny!"


EDWARD'S EYES FILLED WITH RAGE AT THE THOUGHT OF ANYONE TRYING TO TAKE HIS PRECIOUS SHINY!



















AND HE SMASHED EVERYTHING BETWEEN HIM AND THE EXIT!


MUCH LATER


EDWARD had been called to XWF headquarters after that media fiasco where Vinnie was currently in the process of explaining some of the finer points of representing the XWF.


"EDWARD NOT MEAN TO CAUSE HARM. THIS ALL START BECAUSE EDWARD NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT DO TO KEEP SHINY."


Lane sensed an out, and a sly grin fell over him.


"Oh! I can help with that dude! It's super simple! All you have to do is wait for the bell to ring and race Jason Cashe to jump into the manure dude! EDWARD strongest warrior, but is he fastest?"


"YES!"


"Cool, then you should have no problems! Now, as a favor for me helping you out, could you please just stay away from the media between now and then?"


"Uh... OK, EDWARD NOT USE PLATFORM."


Lane seemed pleased with himself. "Good, good. It's refreshing that Anarchy will finally have a champion that it can be proud of!"


EDWARD didn't know why Lane lied to him just then, but played along. Fortunately, he was inclined to believe the word of a pig over the word of the (questionable)man who booked Dog Woman in this match to begin with.


"YES... ANARCHY HAVE STRONGEST WARRIOR..."]]> <![CDATA[BUSTER GLOVES - TIME TRAVEL IS STUPID]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44590 Fri, 23 Sep 2022 06:56:36 -0700 Buster Gloves]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44590 [Image: highlight-video-b.png]

PRESENT DAY

Dark room. Single light bulb. The Bull of the North on a steel chair.

The Kaiser. The King in Rags. The Finnmeister. The guy that everyone’s picking to beat Buster Gloves in his XWF debut. You say, “Hey, we know Finn. He’s alright. Let’s pick him to win the match.” Well, that’s a pretty low-energy way to approach it, so let’s try another way, mmmkay? Let’s do something you aren’t supposed to do. Let’s say some really nice things about the other guy. If you would indulge me for a moment, I’m gonna kill this motherfucker with kindness.

If you’re one of those guys who thinks Finn Kuhn is weak, you’re a dumbass. Finn doesn’t have many accolades yet. He doesn’t have a 9-inch winning streak. He’s not dripping in gold. But it takes some stones to come back to a place you’ve struggled and take another shot at it. This dude is a real one. Every time you see the guy, he’s better than before. Broken stones leave sharp edges. Finn is ready to climb the mountain. He just needs to find his path.

If Finn loses his match to me at XWF Back to Relentless, does it mean it’s the end for him? Should he give up? Nah, that’s a ‘no’ from me dawg. He should keep trying, even if he loses every week for the next 6 months. The wins and losses don’t matter, because you only need one win to prove that you’re a legend. It’s as easy as that. And besides, Finn is still young. He still has so many years to become an astronaut or whatever he wants. The truth of the matter is that Finn is an extraordinary talent. He’s not super friendly, but he can go. XWF sees something special in him and he’s gonna payout sooner or later.

It's not his fault he hasn’t done more already. It’s been bad booking. Finn’s been on the receiving end of some unfortunate matchups. And then he’s too hard on himself when he falls short. A little bit of sadness in the moment is ok, but his obsession with proving the haters wrong is burning him out before he’s even got off the ground.

Finn is a mirror. When we look at him, we see ourselves. Trying and failing. Struggling with our own lives. One step forward, two steps back. I know that I feel that way sometimes. He actually seems like a decent guy. I hope that we can be the best of friends for many years to come.

Alright folks. That’s enough flirting for now. It’s time to make like a tree and get out of here.



TIME TRAVEL IS STUPID

Buster Gloves and his much younger girlfriend, Emily Simms, sprawl across a couch inside his Florida beach house. The two of them met several months ago while working together at Level Up Wrestling. He, a retired MMA fighter, was a lone wolf looking for an ally. She, a former kickboxer, was tied up in a complicated relationship with fellow Level Up Wrestler and undercover douche canoe, Duncan Shepard. Shepard went on to win the Level Up Final Boss Championship. Buster went on to win the girl.

The beach house is small, and it smells like a combination of sex, Red Lobster, and sandalwood. Every surface of his house is either damp or sprinkled with sand. He could probably afford a better place, but that would require a lot of extra non-wrestling effort. Anyways, the popcorn has been popped and the Netflix’s are ready to chill.

“William. This movie is boring. Do we have to watch all of it?” says the California Kitten, Emily Simms after about 15 minutes.

Buster, already annoyed, but determined to do his homework, forges forward with the assertiveness of a father who has heard enough of your bullshit already today. “We have to watch all three movies. It’s a requirement for the job.”

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help you win a wrestling match.”

“My next match is for a Back to the Future themed event for XWF. These movies are basically a handbook for that match.”

“Have you seen these movies before?”

“A long long time ago. I remember not liking it.”

“I thought everyone likes Back to the Future.”

“Not me, and I’m tired of pretending like I do. In fact, I have a problem with EVERY time travel movie.”

“What’s your problem with time travel?” She mumbles with a mouthful of popcorn.

“It doesn’t make sense. It never does. And the ending always makes you wonder what the fuck just happened.”

“You’re probably overthinking it. You do that a lot.”

“Time travel movies are bullshit, Em. It’s lazy writing. These dumbasses ruin everything, over and over again. Then they just go back in time and undo it all. Everything conveniently works out in the end for them. Even when it shouldn’t.”

“You’re so grumpy.”

“No, I’m not! I just feel like people should accept the consequences of their actions. Life doesn’t have an ‘undo’ button.”

“Don’t you forget that! You go breaking my heart and you lose me forever!”

“Yeh, I know. Anyway, there are two exceptions to the Time Travel rule.”

“What rule?”

“…that time travel is stupid.”

“Oh. Go ahead. Wake me up if I fall asleep.”

“I’m gonna ignore that. Anyway. The first exception is Terminator 2. While technically it’s a time travel movie, it gets a free pass. Because it’s awesome. Fight me.”

“I saw that one! It was… acceptable.”

“Exception two. Groundhog’s Day.”

“Never seen it.”

“Wait, you’ve never seen Back to the Future OR Groundhogs Day? Are there any other important movies from our generation that you just skipped over. I swear, if you tell me you never seen Elf, I’ll crescent kick you in the tit, call the wedding off, and never speak to you again.”

“First of all, you WISH you could marry me. You’ll have to put a ring and a belt on me first. Second of all, we aren’t from the same generation. You have Jesus in your yearbook and my mom still packs Capri Suns in my lunch box. To answer your question, there are lots of movies I haven’t seen. I mostly just watch Disney Princess movies and Tiktok.

“Barf.”

“What?! Everybody loves Disney.”

“You know what? I’m going to just skip over that debate.”

“Well, YOU know what? Maybe you aren’t as wise as you think you are. Why don’t you tell me your favorite movie so I can tell YOU how stupid it is?

“Easy. Roadhouse.”

“Roadhouse?”

‘Roadhouse.”

“Is it good?”

“Does a duck with a boner drag weeds?”

“…”

“Yes, Emily. The moon of my life. It’s a really good movie. I named both of my kids after it.”

“You did?”

“Truth.”

“If I have a little girl, I want to name her Princess Aurora.”

“That’s a mouthful. What if it’s a boy?”

“Prince Rory.”

“What a terrible name.”

“Screw you, BUSTER! Can we just get BACK to the movie and get this show on the road?”

“Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”



THE PAST

Buster taps out the much larger student with a d’arce choke from the side control position. A move that he had perfected while training for his black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu a couple years ago. After the 15-minute roll, Buster and his student take a seat against the wall, out of breath, and eager for water.

“You really should think about pro wrestling, Buster.” says the giant young man with the bushy beard.

“You think so?”

“Definitely. You got skills, dude.”

“I’m not sure I do. What do you think makes a complete fighter?”

“Size, strength, a look, heart?”

“It’s funny that you say that, because you’re 300 lbs of dumb country muscle pumped up with 1.21 Gigawatts of piss and vinegar. No offense intended.”

“None taken.”

“Most people give the same answer you do. Vague, generalized ideas about being ring heroes and cage legends. But you’re missing something. Size, strength and heart get you in the door, it’s technique that pushes you up the card.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You have the technique. If you wanted it, you could be a pro-wrestler.”

“I DON’T want it. I hate pro wrestling.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. My heart’s just not in it. You, for instance, I can feel how bad you want it. You’re doing the right thing. And I’m not just saying that because I need you to keep paying me to teach you. But you’re focusing on technique. And that’s what sets the good ones apart from the great ones. If you want to be a complete fighter, you need that heart AND you need to master all four pillars of combat. Boxing. Wrestling. Jiu-Jitsu. Muay-Thai. Train them all until your ears swell up and your bones hurt. And when you wake up in the morning and your body tells you to stop, you drag your sorry ass back to this gym and you train boxing, wrestling, jiu-jitsu, muay-thai.”

“I mean, yeh. Obviously.”

“I’m not saying learn what they are. I’m telling you that if you can’t have a working knowledge of all four pillars of combat, you have a weakness. Someone will find it, they will use it against you, and then everyone will know it.

“You got this game in your blood, Buster. If you ever find your heart again. You give me a call. Pro-wrestling is your density… I mean… destiny.


THE FUTURE

Two large photos stand on dark wood easels on a elevated stage in front of a congregation. One picture shows the picture of an old man, wearing a hat with the Veterans of Foreign Wars crest across its face. The other, of a wrestling champion holding his championship belt in the air. Clusters of flower arrangements cover most of the stage. In the center, a black leather casket with golden side plates.

A man, nearing sixty, stands behind a lectern, red in the face. He shuffles note cards in his hands as he lifts his glasses to wipe away a tear and waves to a few people in the pews. The massive crowd comes to a hush as the man taps the microphone.

Hello, everybody. Thank you for coming. My name is Sway Glover. We’re here today to remember William Bernard Glover. You probably know him by his ring name, Buster Gloves. He was a soldier, an MMA fighter, a professional wrestler, an instructor, and an entrepreneur. I just knew him as Dad.

Fathers are who we look up to, who we follow, who we admire. They teach us about respect, and honor, and doing the right thing. I am so incredibly grateful that I can stand here today and tell you that William Glover was a wonderful father and I was blessed to have him as my dad. For the first 10 years of my life, he was a God. For the next 10 years of my life, I thought he was a bit of an asshole. And for the next 40 years, he was a legend.

No words can describe what he gave to us. His body as an in-ring performer, his mind as a storyteller, and his spirit as a beloved member of so many different groups of people. With my dad, it was never ‘goodbye’. It was always ‘see ya down the road’.

I don’t know what life is going to be like now that I can’t talk to him. I won’t be able to ask him for advice. Or to talk to him about my own children, Denzel and Holden. He cared so much for his family. Making sure that my brother and I stayed together even when we didn’t like each other. Dad was always there for anyone who needed help getting over in life.

He was a modest man. Very private. Didn’t want people to know how smart he was or what kind of problems he was dealing with. But he was never afraid of sharing a laugh at his own expense. He was Santa Claus at our Christmas parties and the worst karaoke singer I’ve ever seen.

I don’t remember my Mom very well, but when Miss Emily entered our life, my Dad loved her with the rest of his heart. Next to his family, his love for pro-wrestling and time travel movies were the only other things that even came close to his adoration for her. He also enjoyed many years of friendship with his best friend Finn, who he met at a Back to the Future themed Wrestling pay-per-view on Sundayday (intentionally spelled wrong) September 25th, 2022. My dad never really recovered from losing Finn during the robot uprising.

For over 30 years Buster and Miss Emily shared everything life had to offer. They were Tag Team Champions. They married. They ran a business together. They supported each other in every way. And when she died a couple months ago, it broke his heart into a million pieces. The doctor says my dad died of kidney disease, but it was his broken heart that really killed him.

Dad was incredibly optimistic and creative. Those traits were passed on to me and were what pushed me into my line of work. My brother, followed in his footsteps to become a world-famous wrestler, before he was taken away from us way too soon by those same damned robots!

Dad never wanted to be perfect. He made a lot of mistakes when he was younger. But he was trying to make things right. He wanted to do things that meant something to people. And I can tell by the number of people here today, that he must have made an impact on a lot of you.

My Dad is the strongest man I’ve ever known. I hope that as we go on in the rest of our lives without him, that I, and everyone who he touched in his life, can find strength in his memory. I also would like to thank the XWF for reminding me of how he and Finn Kuhn stole the show at XWF Back to Relentless so many years ago. My Dad was one of the good guys. My Dad is forever. Thank you, very much for hearing my story… also, don’t trust robots. The end.

Thunderous applause from the congregation.


PRESENT DAY

Dark room. Single light bulb. The Bull of the North… still sitting on that damn steel chair. Let’s see if he’s still awake.

Who am I? What do I stand for? What’s my sign? Who cares? You and I both know that when you looked at that card for Back to Relentless, you said, “Buster Gloves?! This guy probably drops common loot when defeated.” Well, you’re wrong. And just about everybody is wrong about just about everything just about all of the time. I know that I have a stupid name, but you’ll remember it after the pay-per-view is over.

Anybody who’s anybody in this business has done their time in XWF. They take whatever shine they can get and then they leave. They think they’re all legendary performers, but most of them aren’t. When you’re good, you tell people, but when you’re great, they tell YOU. Some folks think I’m too old to start a run. Well, reject the evidence of your eyes and ears, people. Just because the bull is out on the pasture, doesn’t mean that he can’t still run you down.

Here's how things are gonna go at the XWF. I’m gonna stay for as long as I can. Everyone will look right through me. Then some dirty dick will jump me backstage for clout because I’m a nice guy. I’m gonna lose some matches and make some friends. It’ll all be worth it if it pays off later. So, give me attention or give me death!

Finn Kuhn has a dossier about me. He’s read it and highlighted the good parts. Thinks he knows me better than I do. Somehow, he came to the conclusion that I’m a more accomplished wrestler than him, and that he’s the underdog. He clearly has no idea that I’m just making this shit up as I go. Truth is that he has homefield advantage and should probably beat me 2 out of 3 times. But there’s gonna be that 1 time, where everything goes my way, and I WIN. The XWF doesn’t have a title with my name on it. I was brought here for one match. There is no more wrestling after that. There’s no future.

The WAY that I got to the XWF and onto this pay-per-view is kind of a funny story. Finn Kuhn already had a match lined up with Xavier Lux, who got kennel cough or something. That’s none of my business. But when management said they needed someone to step up, I answered the call. I said yes because I need the money to pay for my kid’s braces and I’m too nice to say ‘No’. When someone gives you the chance to open up the final night of XWF’s biggest show of the year, you say ‘Yes’ and you figure out the rest later.

I can’t lose this match unless I say ‘I quit’ or ‘I’m yellow’ or something. To be honest, I don’t remember the exact line because I have no intention of saying it, but I’m no quitter. I’m showing up early, staying late, stealing the centerpieces, and I won’t quit.

The XWF creates legends. If you make it here, you can make it anywhere. It’s an honor and a privilege to have a bite at the apple. Finn just found out about this match a couple weeks ago, but I’ve been preparing for it my entire life. I love my job. This shit is FUN for me, so let’s fucking go, boys!!!


[Image: Breakfast-of-Champions-clean.png]
[Image: buster-gloves-dojo-cropped.png]
]]> [Image: highlight-video-b.png]

PRESENT DAY

Dark room. Single light bulb. The Bull of the North on a steel chair.

The Kaiser. The King in Rags. The Finnmeister. The guy that everyone’s picking to beat Buster Gloves in his XWF debut. You say, “Hey, we know Finn. He’s alright. Let’s pick him to win the match.” Well, that’s a pretty low-energy way to approach it, so let’s try another way, mmmkay? Let’s do something you aren’t supposed to do. Let’s say some really nice things about the other guy. If you would indulge me for a moment, I’m gonna kill this motherfucker with kindness.

If you’re one of those guys who thinks Finn Kuhn is weak, you’re a dumbass. Finn doesn’t have many accolades yet. He doesn’t have a 9-inch winning streak. He’s not dripping in gold. But it takes some stones to come back to a place you’ve struggled and take another shot at it. This dude is a real one. Every time you see the guy, he’s better than before. Broken stones leave sharp edges. Finn is ready to climb the mountain. He just needs to find his path.

If Finn loses his match to me at XWF Back to Relentless, does it mean it’s the end for him? Should he give up? Nah, that’s a ‘no’ from me dawg. He should keep trying, even if he loses every week for the next 6 months. The wins and losses don’t matter, because you only need one win to prove that you’re a legend. It’s as easy as that. And besides, Finn is still young. He still has so many years to become an astronaut or whatever he wants. The truth of the matter is that Finn is an extraordinary talent. He’s not super friendly, but he can go. XWF sees something special in him and he’s gonna payout sooner or later.

It's not his fault he hasn’t done more already. It’s been bad booking. Finn’s been on the receiving end of some unfortunate matchups. And then he’s too hard on himself when he falls short. A little bit of sadness in the moment is ok, but his obsession with proving the haters wrong is burning him out before he’s even got off the ground.

Finn is a mirror. When we look at him, we see ourselves. Trying and failing. Struggling with our own lives. One step forward, two steps back. I know that I feel that way sometimes. He actually seems like a decent guy. I hope that we can be the best of friends for many years to come.

Alright folks. That’s enough flirting for now. It’s time to make like a tree and get out of here.



TIME TRAVEL IS STUPID

Buster Gloves and his much younger girlfriend, Emily Simms, sprawl across a couch inside his Florida beach house. The two of them met several months ago while working together at Level Up Wrestling. He, a retired MMA fighter, was a lone wolf looking for an ally. She, a former kickboxer, was tied up in a complicated relationship with fellow Level Up Wrestler and undercover douche canoe, Duncan Shepard. Shepard went on to win the Level Up Final Boss Championship. Buster went on to win the girl.

The beach house is small, and it smells like a combination of sex, Red Lobster, and sandalwood. Every surface of his house is either damp or sprinkled with sand. He could probably afford a better place, but that would require a lot of extra non-wrestling effort. Anyways, the popcorn has been popped and the Netflix’s are ready to chill.

“William. This movie is boring. Do we have to watch all of it?” says the California Kitten, Emily Simms after about 15 minutes.

Buster, already annoyed, but determined to do his homework, forges forward with the assertiveness of a father who has heard enough of your bullshit already today. “We have to watch all three movies. It’s a requirement for the job.”

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help you win a wrestling match.”

“My next match is for a Back to the Future themed event for XWF. These movies are basically a handbook for that match.”

“Have you seen these movies before?”

“A long long time ago. I remember not liking it.”

“I thought everyone likes Back to the Future.”

“Not me, and I’m tired of pretending like I do. In fact, I have a problem with EVERY time travel movie.”

“What’s your problem with time travel?” She mumbles with a mouthful of popcorn.

“It doesn’t make sense. It never does. And the ending always makes you wonder what the fuck just happened.”

“You’re probably overthinking it. You do that a lot.”

“Time travel movies are bullshit, Em. It’s lazy writing. These dumbasses ruin everything, over and over again. Then they just go back in time and undo it all. Everything conveniently works out in the end for them. Even when it shouldn’t.”

“You’re so grumpy.”

“No, I’m not! I just feel like people should accept the consequences of their actions. Life doesn’t have an ‘undo’ button.”

“Don’t you forget that! You go breaking my heart and you lose me forever!”

“Yeh, I know. Anyway, there are two exceptions to the Time Travel rule.”

“What rule?”

“…that time travel is stupid.”

“Oh. Go ahead. Wake me up if I fall asleep.”

“I’m gonna ignore that. Anyway. The first exception is Terminator 2. While technically it’s a time travel movie, it gets a free pass. Because it’s awesome. Fight me.”

“I saw that one! It was… acceptable.”

“Exception two. Groundhog’s Day.”

“Never seen it.”

“Wait, you’ve never seen Back to the Future OR Groundhogs Day? Are there any other important movies from our generation that you just skipped over. I swear, if you tell me you never seen Elf, I’ll crescent kick you in the tit, call the wedding off, and never speak to you again.”

“First of all, you WISH you could marry me. You’ll have to put a ring and a belt on me first. Second of all, we aren’t from the same generation. You have Jesus in your yearbook and my mom still packs Capri Suns in my lunch box. To answer your question, there are lots of movies I haven’t seen. I mostly just watch Disney Princess movies and Tiktok.

“Barf.”

“What?! Everybody loves Disney.”

“You know what? I’m going to just skip over that debate.”

“Well, YOU know what? Maybe you aren’t as wise as you think you are. Why don’t you tell me your favorite movie so I can tell YOU how stupid it is?

“Easy. Roadhouse.”

“Roadhouse?”

‘Roadhouse.”

“Is it good?”

“Does a duck with a boner drag weeds?”

“…”

“Yes, Emily. The moon of my life. It’s a really good movie. I named both of my kids after it.”

“You did?”

“Truth.”

“If I have a little girl, I want to name her Princess Aurora.”

“That’s a mouthful. What if it’s a boy?”

“Prince Rory.”

“What a terrible name.”

“Screw you, BUSTER! Can we just get BACK to the movie and get this show on the road?”

“Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”



THE PAST

Buster taps out the much larger student with a d’arce choke from the side control position. A move that he had perfected while training for his black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu a couple years ago. After the 15-minute roll, Buster and his student take a seat against the wall, out of breath, and eager for water.

“You really should think about pro wrestling, Buster.” says the giant young man with the bushy beard.

“You think so?”

“Definitely. You got skills, dude.”

“I’m not sure I do. What do you think makes a complete fighter?”

“Size, strength, a look, heart?”

“It’s funny that you say that, because you’re 300 lbs of dumb country muscle pumped up with 1.21 Gigawatts of piss and vinegar. No offense intended.”

“None taken.”

“Most people give the same answer you do. Vague, generalized ideas about being ring heroes and cage legends. But you’re missing something. Size, strength and heart get you in the door, it’s technique that pushes you up the card.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You have the technique. If you wanted it, you could be a pro-wrestler.”

“I DON’T want it. I hate pro wrestling.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. My heart’s just not in it. You, for instance, I can feel how bad you want it. You’re doing the right thing. And I’m not just saying that because I need you to keep paying me to teach you. But you’re focusing on technique. And that’s what sets the good ones apart from the great ones. If you want to be a complete fighter, you need that heart AND you need to master all four pillars of combat. Boxing. Wrestling. Jiu-Jitsu. Muay-Thai. Train them all until your ears swell up and your bones hurt. And when you wake up in the morning and your body tells you to stop, you drag your sorry ass back to this gym and you train boxing, wrestling, jiu-jitsu, muay-thai.”

“I mean, yeh. Obviously.”

“I’m not saying learn what they are. I’m telling you that if you can’t have a working knowledge of all four pillars of combat, you have a weakness. Someone will find it, they will use it against you, and then everyone will know it.

“You got this game in your blood, Buster. If you ever find your heart again. You give me a call. Pro-wrestling is your density… I mean… destiny.


THE FUTURE

Two large photos stand on dark wood easels on a elevated stage in front of a congregation. One picture shows the picture of an old man, wearing a hat with the Veterans of Foreign Wars crest across its face. The other, of a wrestling champion holding his championship belt in the air. Clusters of flower arrangements cover most of the stage. In the center, a black leather casket with golden side plates.

A man, nearing sixty, stands behind a lectern, red in the face. He shuffles note cards in his hands as he lifts his glasses to wipe away a tear and waves to a few people in the pews. The massive crowd comes to a hush as the man taps the microphone.

Hello, everybody. Thank you for coming. My name is Sway Glover. We’re here today to remember William Bernard Glover. You probably know him by his ring name, Buster Gloves. He was a soldier, an MMA fighter, a professional wrestler, an instructor, and an entrepreneur. I just knew him as Dad.

Fathers are who we look up to, who we follow, who we admire. They teach us about respect, and honor, and doing the right thing. I am so incredibly grateful that I can stand here today and tell you that William Glover was a wonderful father and I was blessed to have him as my dad. For the first 10 years of my life, he was a God. For the next 10 years of my life, I thought he was a bit of an asshole. And for the next 40 years, he was a legend.

No words can describe what he gave to us. His body as an in-ring performer, his mind as a storyteller, and his spirit as a beloved member of so many different groups of people. With my dad, it was never ‘goodbye’. It was always ‘see ya down the road’.

I don’t know what life is going to be like now that I can’t talk to him. I won’t be able to ask him for advice. Or to talk to him about my own children, Denzel and Holden. He cared so much for his family. Making sure that my brother and I stayed together even when we didn’t like each other. Dad was always there for anyone who needed help getting over in life.

He was a modest man. Very private. Didn’t want people to know how smart he was or what kind of problems he was dealing with. But he was never afraid of sharing a laugh at his own expense. He was Santa Claus at our Christmas parties and the worst karaoke singer I’ve ever seen.

I don’t remember my Mom very well, but when Miss Emily entered our life, my Dad loved her with the rest of his heart. Next to his family, his love for pro-wrestling and time travel movies were the only other things that even came close to his adoration for her. He also enjoyed many years of friendship with his best friend Finn, who he met at a Back to the Future themed Wrestling pay-per-view on Sundayday (intentionally spelled wrong) September 25th, 2022. My dad never really recovered from losing Finn during the robot uprising.

For over 30 years Buster and Miss Emily shared everything life had to offer. They were Tag Team Champions. They married. They ran a business together. They supported each other in every way. And when she died a couple months ago, it broke his heart into a million pieces. The doctor says my dad died of kidney disease, but it was his broken heart that really killed him.

Dad was incredibly optimistic and creative. Those traits were passed on to me and were what pushed me into my line of work. My brother, followed in his footsteps to become a world-famous wrestler, before he was taken away from us way too soon by those same damned robots!

Dad never wanted to be perfect. He made a lot of mistakes when he was younger. But he was trying to make things right. He wanted to do things that meant something to people. And I can tell by the number of people here today, that he must have made an impact on a lot of you.

My Dad is the strongest man I’ve ever known. I hope that as we go on in the rest of our lives without him, that I, and everyone who he touched in his life, can find strength in his memory. I also would like to thank the XWF for reminding me of how he and Finn Kuhn stole the show at XWF Back to Relentless so many years ago. My Dad was one of the good guys. My Dad is forever. Thank you, very much for hearing my story… also, don’t trust robots. The end.

Thunderous applause from the congregation.


PRESENT DAY

Dark room. Single light bulb. The Bull of the North… still sitting on that damn steel chair. Let’s see if he’s still awake.

Who am I? What do I stand for? What’s my sign? Who cares? You and I both know that when you looked at that card for Back to Relentless, you said, “Buster Gloves?! This guy probably drops common loot when defeated.” Well, you’re wrong. And just about everybody is wrong about just about everything just about all of the time. I know that I have a stupid name, but you’ll remember it after the pay-per-view is over.

Anybody who’s anybody in this business has done their time in XWF. They take whatever shine they can get and then they leave. They think they’re all legendary performers, but most of them aren’t. When you’re good, you tell people, but when you’re great, they tell YOU. Some folks think I’m too old to start a run. Well, reject the evidence of your eyes and ears, people. Just because the bull is out on the pasture, doesn’t mean that he can’t still run you down.

Here's how things are gonna go at the XWF. I’m gonna stay for as long as I can. Everyone will look right through me. Then some dirty dick will jump me backstage for clout because I’m a nice guy. I’m gonna lose some matches and make some friends. It’ll all be worth it if it pays off later. So, give me attention or give me death!

Finn Kuhn has a dossier about me. He’s read it and highlighted the good parts. Thinks he knows me better than I do. Somehow, he came to the conclusion that I’m a more accomplished wrestler than him, and that he’s the underdog. He clearly has no idea that I’m just making this shit up as I go. Truth is that he has homefield advantage and should probably beat me 2 out of 3 times. But there’s gonna be that 1 time, where everything goes my way, and I WIN. The XWF doesn’t have a title with my name on it. I was brought here for one match. There is no more wrestling after that. There’s no future.

The WAY that I got to the XWF and onto this pay-per-view is kind of a funny story. Finn Kuhn already had a match lined up with Xavier Lux, who got kennel cough or something. That’s none of my business. But when management said they needed someone to step up, I answered the call. I said yes because I need the money to pay for my kid’s braces and I’m too nice to say ‘No’. When someone gives you the chance to open up the final night of XWF’s biggest show of the year, you say ‘Yes’ and you figure out the rest later.

I can’t lose this match unless I say ‘I quit’ or ‘I’m yellow’ or something. To be honest, I don’t remember the exact line because I have no intention of saying it, but I’m no quitter. I’m showing up early, staying late, stealing the centerpieces, and I won’t quit.

The XWF creates legends. If you make it here, you can make it anywhere. It’s an honor and a privilege to have a bite at the apple. Finn just found out about this match a couple weeks ago, but I’ve been preparing for it my entire life. I love my job. This shit is FUN for me, so let’s fucking go, boys!!!


[Image: Breakfast-of-Champions-clean.png]
[Image: buster-gloves-dojo-cropped.png]
]]> <![CDATA[Hanging with Kido]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44589 Fri, 23 Sep 2022 02:20:40 -0700 Jason Cashe]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44589 "He's too nice.." Cashe sighed. He seemed stressed out as he sat at the edge of a bed. Josslynn was getting changed. Cashe's eyes followed her across the room as she walked around in nothing but her underwear and bra. Hearing laughter from another room in the house, Cashe knew it was Raion Kido. Waiting for them to get dressed for the night out. "Theo thinks he'll rub off on me.."

Josslynn turns and walks over to Cashe, standing in front of him as his hands slide across her lower back. "Not too much I hope. I like you a little naughty!"

Kido is heard laughing even louder. Cashe smiles. "What is he doing out there?!"

"I don't know but he sure likes your Gummy Bears." She kisses the top of his head before going back to getting dressed. 

"My gummy bears?" Suddenly his eyes widened. "Wait! My Edibles?!"

He sprung from the bed, reaching for the bedroom door in a hurry. "What's wrong?!"

©©©©©©©©©
"Me Tarzan, you're Jane. In this moment, in this spotlight, you are going to be turned bitch. That's the game plan, that's my goal. You can yell, bang your chest and tell tales of a past era. You've got shiny, I want that from you. 

See, if I had lost against LSM. I would have protested this match. I would have considered sabotaging it on my end because it would not be earned, it would not be deserved. Maybe it still isn't but I didn't lose that match. I beat who you beat for the Xtreme Title. You took that opportunity from me leading to a match where I should have been competing for that Title. I didn't want that Title but it would have been the FIRST Title Match I have been in here in XWF. You took that moment from me.. 

Now at the One Year Anniversary to my debut in this company, I am FINALLY stepping foot into a ring FOR a Championship! Not a contenders match, not a fourway of all the top draws on a given show. Not a consolation prize match with TK where an opportunity for a Title shot is on the line but an ACTUAL Title shot! 

You might never hear my name as the Universal Champion but a Champion I plan to be and first on my wishlist, first up to bat is the Anarchy Championship. You became an unlucky son of a bitch the moment the referee slapped that third hand to the canvas and you won the belt. You want it all? I just want that next step and you will be what I step over to take it."

©©©©©©©©©
"Heeeey, Theo!" Cashe was pacing with his phone pressed to his ear. "We got a problem.." Turning to face the open living room of his Home in Vegas, Raion Kido. The XWF Universal Champion was laying with his face pressed against the cold tile floor. 

It's sooo smooth.." Kido says with great interest. He has sticky, chewed up gummy bear residue around his mouth. 

Josslynn was sitting at the table laughing as Cashe speaks into his phone. "Kido is clouded! He ate a SHIT TON of gummy bears.. The edible kind!" He broke and let out a laugh. Kido laughed with him in hysterical fashion. "I didn't force him to do anything!"

Kido wasn't someone who has ever been high. He was as clean cut as a fresh printed dollar bill. This was a lot even for Cashe. "It's Josslynn's fault.."

"What the fuck?! No it's not!" She snapped at him, giving him a look.   

©©©©©©©©©
"The curious side of me wants to know how fast you learned how to use toilet paper? Have you discovered internet porn yet? Not all Cavemen can make fire or know what the wheel is but I can relate to you Eddie boy.. 

They used to call me Caveman Cashe. You should have seen me before I got these tattoos, before I got my front teeth replaced. I looked like a Caveman and lived with very little material investment. 

I hated who I was, who I had become.. So I got my shit together.

I seek redemption as the tattoo on my face reads. I have a cross there as well but I have no religion. Instead of a teardrop for a body buried, I have a cross for a life sent to the heavens. I don't get personal, I don't let people into what I do outside of the ring, when these cameras aren't around. That's my business. 

You can talk about what men are today. I agree that times have taken the chest hair off testosterone and folks have lost the ability to survive if all things with technology landed on a flatline. I'll gladly put all that shit aside and become a Hunter and Gatherer with you.. You will see me hunt while you gather yourself up post match. Silverlining is that you'll still have one belt after.. You'll just be covered in SHIT while you see me holding up the one you lost. 

This is my one year, Happy Anniversary to me! It took a year to get here. It took Ls from Nickles, TK, Vita in singles matches. I have watched others get their opportunities while I have had the PLEASURE of waiting until the moment became Romantical. One Year Anniversary? What better time to win my first? 

Bring me my belt.."

©©©©©©©©©
Laughter filled the living room. "Well, he might be a few pounds heavier come Night Three of Relentless!" Cashe jokes as he, Josslynn and Theo watch Kido making a sandwich out of various stuff from the fridge. Deli meats, cheese, a pop tart, and ketchup were among the ingredients of the sandwich. 

"It's not funny.." Theo says with a sigh that follows. "You're a bad influence." 

"Story of my life!" Cashe responds. "He'll be aight.. He's gonna sleep better than a frozen caveman."]]> "He's too nice.." Cashe sighed. He seemed stressed out as he sat at the edge of a bed. Josslynn was getting changed. Cashe's eyes followed her across the room as she walked around in nothing but her underwear and bra. Hearing laughter from another room in the house, Cashe knew it was Raion Kido. Waiting for them to get dressed for the night out. "Theo thinks he'll rub off on me.."

Josslynn turns and walks over to Cashe, standing in front of him as his hands slide across her lower back. "Not too much I hope. I like you a little naughty!"

Kido is heard laughing even louder. Cashe smiles. "What is he doing out there?!"

"I don't know but he sure likes your Gummy Bears." She kisses the top of his head before going back to getting dressed. 

"My gummy bears?" Suddenly his eyes widened. "Wait! My Edibles?!"

He sprung from the bed, reaching for the bedroom door in a hurry. "What's wrong?!"

©©©©©©©©©
"Me Tarzan, you're Jane. In this moment, in this spotlight, you are going to be turned bitch. That's the game plan, that's my goal. You can yell, bang your chest and tell tales of a past era. You've got shiny, I want that from you. 

See, if I had lost against LSM. I would have protested this match. I would have considered sabotaging it on my end because it would not be earned, it would not be deserved. Maybe it still isn't but I didn't lose that match. I beat who you beat for the Xtreme Title. You took that opportunity from me leading to a match where I should have been competing for that Title. I didn't want that Title but it would have been the FIRST Title Match I have been in here in XWF. You took that moment from me.. 

Now at the One Year Anniversary to my debut in this company, I am FINALLY stepping foot into a ring FOR a Championship! Not a contenders match, not a fourway of all the top draws on a given show. Not a consolation prize match with TK where an opportunity for a Title shot is on the line but an ACTUAL Title shot! 

You might never hear my name as the Universal Champion but a Champion I plan to be and first on my wishlist, first up to bat is the Anarchy Championship. You became an unlucky son of a bitch the moment the referee slapped that third hand to the canvas and you won the belt. You want it all? I just want that next step and you will be what I step over to take it."

©©©©©©©©©
"Heeeey, Theo!" Cashe was pacing with his phone pressed to his ear. "We got a problem.." Turning to face the open living room of his Home in Vegas, Raion Kido. The XWF Universal Champion was laying with his face pressed against the cold tile floor. 

It's sooo smooth.." Kido says with great interest. He has sticky, chewed up gummy bear residue around his mouth. 

Josslynn was sitting at the table laughing as Cashe speaks into his phone. "Kido is clouded! He ate a SHIT TON of gummy bears.. The edible kind!" He broke and let out a laugh. Kido laughed with him in hysterical fashion. "I didn't force him to do anything!"

Kido wasn't someone who has ever been high. He was as clean cut as a fresh printed dollar bill. This was a lot even for Cashe. "It's Josslynn's fault.."

"What the fuck?! No it's not!" She snapped at him, giving him a look.   

©©©©©©©©©
"The curious side of me wants to know how fast you learned how to use toilet paper? Have you discovered internet porn yet? Not all Cavemen can make fire or know what the wheel is but I can relate to you Eddie boy.. 

They used to call me Caveman Cashe. You should have seen me before I got these tattoos, before I got my front teeth replaced. I looked like a Caveman and lived with very little material investment. 

I hated who I was, who I had become.. So I got my shit together.

I seek redemption as the tattoo on my face reads. I have a cross there as well but I have no religion. Instead of a teardrop for a body buried, I have a cross for a life sent to the heavens. I don't get personal, I don't let people into what I do outside of the ring, when these cameras aren't around. That's my business. 

You can talk about what men are today. I agree that times have taken the chest hair off testosterone and folks have lost the ability to survive if all things with technology landed on a flatline. I'll gladly put all that shit aside and become a Hunter and Gatherer with you.. You will see me hunt while you gather yourself up post match. Silverlining is that you'll still have one belt after.. You'll just be covered in SHIT while you see me holding up the one you lost. 

This is my one year, Happy Anniversary to me! It took a year to get here. It took Ls from Nickles, TK, Vita in singles matches. I have watched others get their opportunities while I have had the PLEASURE of waiting until the moment became Romantical. One Year Anniversary? What better time to win my first? 

Bring me my belt.."

©©©©©©©©©
Laughter filled the living room. "Well, he might be a few pounds heavier come Night Three of Relentless!" Cashe jokes as he, Josslynn and Theo watch Kido making a sandwich out of various stuff from the fridge. Deli meats, cheese, a pop tart, and ketchup were among the ingredients of the sandwich. 

"It's not funny.." Theo says with a sigh that follows. "You're a bad influence." 

"Story of my life!" Cashe responds. "He'll be aight.. He's gonna sleep better than a frozen caveman."]]> <![CDATA[The Promise of Tomorrow]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44584 Thu, 22 Sep 2022 17:31:25 -0700 Raion Kido]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44584 Raion Kido feared nothing, much less Mark Flynn - especially after the latter had blown up in the exact way the Lion expected.

However, going into Relentless, the realization had hit him.

“This is the biggest show of the year… and here I am, defending the top title in the XWF.”

The responsibility that laid on his shoulders was, perhaps, the heaviest he had ever borne.

“The very name of the XWF and the prestige of the company… all now on me.”

These thoughts ran through his mind until Ryleigh Dixon brings him back to Earth, and to the animal shelter to which they were approaching.

“And this is the greatest responsibility of all.”

“...daydreaming again, my Lion?”

Ryleigh smiles sweetly at him. The XWF Universal Champion gazes at her dreamily, taking him several seconds until he’s finally paying attention.

“Oh! I do that a lot, don’t I? I’m sorry, just… thoughts were swimming in my head.”

“What kind of thoughts? Tell me.”

She wraps her right arm around his left arm and pokes his nose with her free hand.

“Just… Sunday. Biggest event of the XWF in the year, and here I am, defending the title. It’s like the company itself’s future depends on me. But then again… isn’t why we’re here a similar case? We’re going to adopt a life… and we’re going to give it a future.

It’s enough to make my head swirl, but now that I’m here at last…”

Not without some uncertainty, Raion holds the Crown Jewel of the Dixon Family close to him…

“... I’m the happiest man in the world that I’m here with you.”

… and, tentatively, almost as if he dared not, he gives her a kiss.

“This is what both you and I want… so let’s go!”

Before he can pull away, she embraces him and deepens the kiss. Perhaps this gives him an extra shade of red upon his cheeks. She smiles when she draws back and takes his hand in hers.

“Come on, then!”

She leads the way and they enter the Best Friends Animal Society together. Just as they cross the shelter’s door, they are greeted by its owner, a very amiable looking middle-aged woman.

“Ohh, hi. You must be Raion and Ryleigh! I’m Linda, we spoke on the phone. I understand you want to adopt a puppy?”

“Yes, that is correct. We’ve had a long talk and we feel like we’re ready for an adoption.”

“That’s right. Someone who will be a companion not just for us, but for Ricky and Lucy as well.”

She is, of course, referring to her exotic birds. Linda leads them to her office, where they sit down over three cups of coffee. The office is cozy, but there is an air of solemnity as Linda looks at both Raion and Ryleigh.

“You have to understand that this is no easy responsibility. So many people think of animals as toys to last a season, but they have needs just like humans do. Not just food or water or medicine, but they also need love. And that is a lifetime commitment, much like one’s own child.”

Child…

For a moment, Ryleigh looks away. A hand absently rests over her stomach. Thirty-five years and she doesn’t have a child of her own. She’s an aunt, not a mother. Still… she manages to smile. Raion places his hand on Ryleigh’s shoulder, and he nods at Linda’s words, with a little smile of his own.

“There is an old proverb that I was taught in Japan… about entrusting one’s child to another like an heirloom. When someone dies, they will only entrust their child to one who is true.”

“All animals here are our children, and we do not give them out lightly. We want to ensure that they are well looked after, and live full and healthy lives. You two seem like good people. Kind and loving and caring… the type of person that knows this is a life of which you will take care until its very end.

But that, of course, is the impression that I get. The real answer, however, must come from you. Do you feel like you are up to the task?”

The Lion and his Goddess look at each other, nodding in unison.

“We are, Madam. I swear to you that if you entrust us with one of your children, we’ll give it the care it needs and deserves.”

“That’s a promise.”

The couple smile. Linda smiles in return and rises from her chair.

“Follow me. There is someone I want you to see.”

Moments later, Linda is leading Raion and Ryleigh through the shelter’s area for the animal care. They see several dogs and cats in their respective rooms, resting, eating or drinking, looking on excitedly at the people that would adopt them. In one such room is a little toy poodle, who instantly rushes at them.

“Whoa! Energetic, isn’t he?”

“Awww, what a little cutie!”

“He’s 1 year old. He’s part of the litter of a mom living with a good family, but they couldn’t take care of the puppies so they brought them here. All of them are now gone, and he’s the only one left.”

The puppy nuzzles Raion’s cheek as he holds him close, and soon does it to Ryleigh. Linda looks on, smiling hopefully.

“And we would like nothing more than for you to take care of him.”

“Does he have a name?”

With a quick glance, there’s no dog tag on the small collar. Ryleigh tilts her head.

“I think it’s up to us to give him a name. Well… he’s energetic and bright… What about Sunny?”

“Sunny is fine! We’ll gladly have him, Ms. Linda. And I make the solemn promise that he will live a full, happy life. I know a thing or two about responsibility… and of hoping for a brighter future.”

Did Raion Kido not, after all, hold currently a burden bigger than he’d ever expected to bear? Had he ever failed to live up to it? Life is the most precious thing of all - for a young puppy, to a human being, to a group of human beings pursuing their dreams.

Situations and importance may vary, but the responsibility is the same. All to leave this world a better place than before.

All for a better future.

The promise of tomorrow.

Raion kneels down, letting Sunny free. But the young puppy holds still, and looks at him almost expectantly.

“I swear this… on my honor.”

Almost as if he had understood the words that the Lion has spoken - and perhaps, he has -, Sunny lets out a happy bark, and gives him a lick on the cheek…

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This should very well be the greatest event of the year. The flagship Pay-Per-View of the XWF. The Showcase of the Immortals.”

The voice of the Lion rumbles upon the sound of a train on the tracks, and as the scene comes into view, the sun shines brightly over a moving train, atop which stands Raion Kido himself - his Gold Cloth reflecting the rays of the sun, and his white cape, as well as his hair, fluttering in the wind.

“This is the event where the cream rises to the top. Where the best XWF talent is displayed in front of the whole world, and where the foundation for the future is laid every year.

And in an event of this magnitude, the very XWF Universal Title is at stake, a prize that you have chased after for ten years.

If I’d been in your stead, Flynn, at the very least, I would have made certain I came here prepared.”

At this juncture, there was no more time to waste. The Lion looks straight at the camera, lips peeled back and canines showing, and the savage glint of the predator in his eyes.

Time for the cosmos to burn - the biggest bang of all.


“At the very least, I would have saved myself the embarrassment of saying Raion Kido’s biggest win was against Thaddeus Duke, when I overcame the likes of ALIAS, or Dolly Waters, or Charlie Nickles, or Bobby Bourbon… or Mark Flynn himself!

That’s the very reason we’re here, Mr. Grasping at Straws! Did you ever care to think that Chris Page cares about this match just because you and I are in it? Did it ever occur to you that you and I are the biggest winners of the monumental event he put together?

Did you not think this through, or are you so fixated on me holding this title that your own jealous, grudging rage against Theo Pryce has blinded you!?”

Gazing up to the sky, fists clenched and pulsing with power, Raion lets out a mighty roar that the wind carries throughout the length of the train track. Was Mark Flynn trying to demean him, or was he simply covering his eyes and ears as he shouted to drown every other voice?

“I mean, it’s almost, Flynn, like I saw this coming! It’s almost like you’ve said the same exact thing for months! Did you really think I would not have anticipated it all?

I’ve made certain to follow your addresses, Flynn. Month after month you talked about Raion Kido the Cho-KING, and after working to finally prove it wrong, I made certain to expect, at the very least, a complete dissection. And now, in the most important event of the XWF in 2022… you’re doing the same exact thing you did for every match!

The match of your life, Flynn, as I’ve had in the Leap of Faith, and the Cannabis Cup! The showdown between the two winners of Chris Page’s event, the anointed one by Page now to carry the XWF torch… and you’re going to do the same thing you do for a regular night!?”

One more bellowing roar by the Lion, filled with righteous fury. As ludicrous as all this was, there was something else that lay beneath.

If the traitor of his own partner dared call him a hypocrite, the Lion would revisit that courtesy on him.

Unlike Mark Flynn, however, the Lion’s own claims were founded.

“It would be comical to think this, were it not completely sad, but as predictable, and as disappointing, as you have been, the most irritating thing of all is that you have to resort to excuses. Yes, you threw a cinder block to Bobby Bourbon’s helicopter, but did you jump? No! None of those atop the Burj Khalifa did, but Raion Kido. And ALIAS was a carcass, yet he speared three people from the Velvet Rabbit into the streets of New York.

Who was it that stood up, Flynn? Who was the only one that dragged himself off the ground?

Who was it that put him down for good!?”

Silence falls after this, which would be deafening if not for the sound of the train on the tracks, and the XWF Universal Champion lowers his head, a dagger-like stare at the camera.

It was time for Mark Flynn to lose at his own game.

“But let’s indulge you, Flynn, and pretend for a fraction of a second that your criticism is something else than desperate lies. Tell me then, what’s your excuse not to defeat the sorry carcass that you claim ALIAS to be? Was your bootlace untied, or, even if you failed to win, must we credit you for snuffing his life out? And what about last Warfare? Is Theo Pryce somehow guilty for you not arriving in time to save your own team, or was it, quite simply, that you - gasp - choked!?

I distinctly remember admitting that your partner beat me. So did Nickles and Bourbon. And maybe I should have had War Games, or the Television Title, or been the King of the XWF. Alas, none of that happened, but then again, this is my first year.

How do you account for not winning any of that in ten years!?”

The Lion’s stone face now turns into a savage grin, betrayed only by the glint in his eyes - a tranquil fury that would be so no longer.

“For Athena’s sake, Flynn, this is downright pathetic. I should be getting a lesson from a veteran. I should be expecting the fight for my life in the one show where the XWF Universal Title must be defended, against the man that waited ten long years for this opportunity, and what do I get?

I get a jealous, resentful, hypocritical whiner! I get someone who committed the ultimate betrayal and threw a name in the history books down the drain, and now has the gall to question my character! Tell me, Flynn, what reeks of opportunism? Winning several multi-person matches, or turning on the one person that pinned the Universal Champion just so he wouldn’t challenge me!? By the way, I wasn’t the one that meant to bring my partner to Leap of Faith. Blame Theo Pryce for that one too, but at least I won that one fairly, as every other match I have had.

Even Nickles dared not go as far as to claim that it wasn’t him I pinned for this title, and now you’ve sunk yourself lower than he ever would, much like Biff Tannen waxing George McFly’s car. By the way, you seem to have mistaken me for Ruby, but if you think a kidney punch is not something a Saint of Athena is meant to do, you’re coming to the wrong battle.

For I’m not meant to be a superhero. I am meant to be a warrior, and a warrior’s charge is to fight.  But of course, leave it to Mark Flynn, at the most important match in his life, to resort to this kind of stupidity. As if I hadn’t had worse from Nickles, ALIAS, or Dolly Waters.

It’s a disgrace, it’s sad to see, and it’s my duty to put you down. Not merely to defend the title, or the future of the XWF, but for a humane cause - to put you out of everyone else’s misery. Say how I’m not a hero because I hit someone in the kidneys. You might be stuck in Micheal Graves’ body, but at least he was more creative when he tried to accuse me of punching ladies in their breasts.”

Drawing an exasperated sigh, the Lion waves that off. As much as Flynn would like to quibble, there was a critical mission ahead.

One day, certainly, the Lion would lose the title, as ALIAS did before him. But not here, not now.

Not at the biggest extravaganza of the XWF.

“But back to what really matters. I’ve carried myself with pride, but I’m not done just yet, and certainly not in the XWF’s flagship three-day event. Because there’s the most important battle to fight, the one final hurdle before I can look back without any regrets.

Because above all, the fact that I’ve made it so far represents something for the entirety of the roster of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, and the very thing a Saint of Athena embodies: Hope. Hope for the bright-eyed people out there that want to get in the ring that they too can become Raion Kido. Come out of nowhere like I did, and reach the ultimate heights in the time that I have.

The one thing that is never lost, Flynn. The wish towards the future. The promise of tomorrow.

You want to call this a sales pitch, a corporate choice, I say this is a statement - a promise for the XWF Universe. Because there was one man this year that came to shake it to its very core, and now represents everything the XWF is meant to be - and there is power in that, Flynn. When Raion Kido was announced to be the Universal Champion, the XWF entrusted me with their present, and with their future - with its very life. That’s the biggest responsibility that can be entrusted to a man, and it means that the one that receives it must be true.

That, Flynn, is why I have put myself through this ultimate challenge, and come to face you on your very own terms. Because I’m done with having my name doubted, with the likes of you trying to discredit me for having done what you couldn’t in a lifetime. The time to make the ultimate statement has come, and I come to Relentless to render you catatonic with Heaven’s Treasure - little more than a corpse to be flung out of the train - or until your fear of that end is greater than the one you felt when the North Korean War Criminal pinned me.”

But for the Lion, fear would not factor into this. There was, more than ever, an example to set, and a war to fight.

And it was time to end it once and for all.

“One way or another, Mr. King of the Midcarders, your reckoning is coming. Maybe you’ll come back the next Pay-Per-View, or maybe it’ll be another ten years before you get this opportunity once more, but the only way the biggest XWF event of 2022 is going to end is the way it should - with the crowning achievement of the Lion having performed a role worthy of legend.

The final jewel in the crown that shall make the cosmos burn once more, and shall send the thousands in attendance, the millions watching at home, and the people in the back, with a renewed hope in the power of the universe…”

The young Osaka wrestler points towards the sun, shining brightly above the train, its rays reflecting on his burnished Golden Cloth.

The ultimate proof of his worth and valor.

The proof of being a Saint of Athena - and worthy of the XWF Universal Title.

“... and the promise of tomorrow!”

Fade to black.
3000 words (wordcounter.net)]]> Raion Kido feared nothing, much less Mark Flynn - especially after the latter had blown up in the exact way the Lion expected.

However, going into Relentless, the realization had hit him.

“This is the biggest show of the year… and here I am, defending the top title in the XWF.”

The responsibility that laid on his shoulders was, perhaps, the heaviest he had ever borne.

“The very name of the XWF and the prestige of the company… all now on me.”

These thoughts ran through his mind until Ryleigh Dixon brings him back to Earth, and to the animal shelter to which they were approaching.

“And this is the greatest responsibility of all.”

“...daydreaming again, my Lion?”

Ryleigh smiles sweetly at him. The XWF Universal Champion gazes at her dreamily, taking him several seconds until he’s finally paying attention.

“Oh! I do that a lot, don’t I? I’m sorry, just… thoughts were swimming in my head.”

“What kind of thoughts? Tell me.”

She wraps her right arm around his left arm and pokes his nose with her free hand.

“Just… Sunday. Biggest event of the XWF in the year, and here I am, defending the title. It’s like the company itself’s future depends on me. But then again… isn’t why we’re here a similar case? We’re going to adopt a life… and we’re going to give it a future.

It’s enough to make my head swirl, but now that I’m here at last…”

Not without some uncertainty, Raion holds the Crown Jewel of the Dixon Family close to him…

“... I’m the happiest man in the world that I’m here with you.”

… and, tentatively, almost as if he dared not, he gives her a kiss.

“This is what both you and I want… so let’s go!”

Before he can pull away, she embraces him and deepens the kiss. Perhaps this gives him an extra shade of red upon his cheeks. She smiles when she draws back and takes his hand in hers.

“Come on, then!”

She leads the way and they enter the Best Friends Animal Society together. Just as they cross the shelter’s door, they are greeted by its owner, a very amiable looking middle-aged woman.

“Ohh, hi. You must be Raion and Ryleigh! I’m Linda, we spoke on the phone. I understand you want to adopt a puppy?”

“Yes, that is correct. We’ve had a long talk and we feel like we’re ready for an adoption.”

“That’s right. Someone who will be a companion not just for us, but for Ricky and Lucy as well.”

She is, of course, referring to her exotic birds. Linda leads them to her office, where they sit down over three cups of coffee. The office is cozy, but there is an air of solemnity as Linda looks at both Raion and Ryleigh.

“You have to understand that this is no easy responsibility. So many people think of animals as toys to last a season, but they have needs just like humans do. Not just food or water or medicine, but they also need love. And that is a lifetime commitment, much like one’s own child.”

Child…

For a moment, Ryleigh looks away. A hand absently rests over her stomach. Thirty-five years and she doesn’t have a child of her own. She’s an aunt, not a mother. Still… she manages to smile. Raion places his hand on Ryleigh’s shoulder, and he nods at Linda’s words, with a little smile of his own.

“There is an old proverb that I was taught in Japan… about entrusting one’s child to another like an heirloom. When someone dies, they will only entrust their child to one who is true.”

“All animals here are our children, and we do not give them out lightly. We want to ensure that they are well looked after, and live full and healthy lives. You two seem like good people. Kind and loving and caring… the type of person that knows this is a life of which you will take care until its very end.

But that, of course, is the impression that I get. The real answer, however, must come from you. Do you feel like you are up to the task?”

The Lion and his Goddess look at each other, nodding in unison.

“We are, Madam. I swear to you that if you entrust us with one of your children, we’ll give it the care it needs and deserves.”

“That’s a promise.”

The couple smile. Linda smiles in return and rises from her chair.

“Follow me. There is someone I want you to see.”

Moments later, Linda is leading Raion and Ryleigh through the shelter’s area for the animal care. They see several dogs and cats in their respective rooms, resting, eating or drinking, looking on excitedly at the people that would adopt them. In one such room is a little toy poodle, who instantly rushes at them.

“Whoa! Energetic, isn’t he?”

“Awww, what a little cutie!”

“He’s 1 year old. He’s part of the litter of a mom living with a good family, but they couldn’t take care of the puppies so they brought them here. All of them are now gone, and he’s the only one left.”

The puppy nuzzles Raion’s cheek as he holds him close, and soon does it to Ryleigh. Linda looks on, smiling hopefully.

“And we would like nothing more than for you to take care of him.”

“Does he have a name?”

With a quick glance, there’s no dog tag on the small collar. Ryleigh tilts her head.

“I think it’s up to us to give him a name. Well… he’s energetic and bright… What about Sunny?”

“Sunny is fine! We’ll gladly have him, Ms. Linda. And I make the solemn promise that he will live a full, happy life. I know a thing or two about responsibility… and of hoping for a brighter future.”

Did Raion Kido not, after all, hold currently a burden bigger than he’d ever expected to bear? Had he ever failed to live up to it? Life is the most precious thing of all - for a young puppy, to a human being, to a group of human beings pursuing their dreams.

Situations and importance may vary, but the responsibility is the same. All to leave this world a better place than before.

All for a better future.

The promise of tomorrow.

Raion kneels down, letting Sunny free. But the young puppy holds still, and looks at him almost expectantly.

“I swear this… on my honor.”

Almost as if he had understood the words that the Lion has spoken - and perhaps, he has -, Sunny lets out a happy bark, and gives him a lick on the cheek…

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This should very well be the greatest event of the year. The flagship Pay-Per-View of the XWF. The Showcase of the Immortals.”

The voice of the Lion rumbles upon the sound of a train on the tracks, and as the scene comes into view, the sun shines brightly over a moving train, atop which stands Raion Kido himself - his Gold Cloth reflecting the rays of the sun, and his white cape, as well as his hair, fluttering in the wind.

“This is the event where the cream rises to the top. Where the best XWF talent is displayed in front of the whole world, and where the foundation for the future is laid every year.

And in an event of this magnitude, the very XWF Universal Title is at stake, a prize that you have chased after for ten years.

If I’d been in your stead, Flynn, at the very least, I would have made certain I came here prepared.”

At this juncture, there was no more time to waste. The Lion looks straight at the camera, lips peeled back and canines showing, and the savage glint of the predator in his eyes.

Time for the cosmos to burn - the biggest bang of all.


“At the very least, I would have saved myself the embarrassment of saying Raion Kido’s biggest win was against Thaddeus Duke, when I overcame the likes of ALIAS, or Dolly Waters, or Charlie Nickles, or Bobby Bourbon… or Mark Flynn himself!

That’s the very reason we’re here, Mr. Grasping at Straws! Did you ever care to think that Chris Page cares about this match just because you and I are in it? Did it ever occur to you that you and I are the biggest winners of the monumental event he put together?

Did you not think this through, or are you so fixated on me holding this title that your own jealous, grudging rage against Theo Pryce has blinded you!?”

Gazing up to the sky, fists clenched and pulsing with power, Raion lets out a mighty roar that the wind carries throughout the length of the train track. Was Mark Flynn trying to demean him, or was he simply covering his eyes and ears as he shouted to drown every other voice?

“I mean, it’s almost, Flynn, like I saw this coming! It’s almost like you’ve said the same exact thing for months! Did you really think I would not have anticipated it all?

I’ve made certain to follow your addresses, Flynn. Month after month you talked about Raion Kido the Cho-KING, and after working to finally prove it wrong, I made certain to expect, at the very least, a complete dissection. And now, in the most important event of the XWF in 2022… you’re doing the same exact thing you did for every match!

The match of your life, Flynn, as I’ve had in the Leap of Faith, and the Cannabis Cup! The showdown between the two winners of Chris Page’s event, the anointed one by Page now to carry the XWF torch… and you’re going to do the same thing you do for a regular night!?”

One more bellowing roar by the Lion, filled with righteous fury. As ludicrous as all this was, there was something else that lay beneath.

If the traitor of his own partner dared call him a hypocrite, the Lion would revisit that courtesy on him.

Unlike Mark Flynn, however, the Lion’s own claims were founded.

“It would be comical to think this, were it not completely sad, but as predictable, and as disappointing, as you have been, the most irritating thing of all is that you have to resort to excuses. Yes, you threw a cinder block to Bobby Bourbon’s helicopter, but did you jump? No! None of those atop the Burj Khalifa did, but Raion Kido. And ALIAS was a carcass, yet he speared three people from the Velvet Rabbit into the streets of New York.

Who was it that stood up, Flynn? Who was the only one that dragged himself off the ground?

Who was it that put him down for good!?”

Silence falls after this, which would be deafening if not for the sound of the train on the tracks, and the XWF Universal Champion lowers his head, a dagger-like stare at the camera.

It was time for Mark Flynn to lose at his own game.

“But let’s indulge you, Flynn, and pretend for a fraction of a second that your criticism is something else than desperate lies. Tell me then, what’s your excuse not to defeat the sorry carcass that you claim ALIAS to be? Was your bootlace untied, or, even if you failed to win, must we credit you for snuffing his life out? And what about last Warfare? Is Theo Pryce somehow guilty for you not arriving in time to save your own team, or was it, quite simply, that you - gasp - choked!?

I distinctly remember admitting that your partner beat me. So did Nickles and Bourbon. And maybe I should have had War Games, or the Television Title, or been the King of the XWF. Alas, none of that happened, but then again, this is my first year.

How do you account for not winning any of that in ten years!?”

The Lion’s stone face now turns into a savage grin, betrayed only by the glint in his eyes - a tranquil fury that would be so no longer.

“For Athena’s sake, Flynn, this is downright pathetic. I should be getting a lesson from a veteran. I should be expecting the fight for my life in the one show where the XWF Universal Title must be defended, against the man that waited ten long years for this opportunity, and what do I get?

I get a jealous, resentful, hypocritical whiner! I get someone who committed the ultimate betrayal and threw a name in the history books down the drain, and now has the gall to question my character! Tell me, Flynn, what reeks of opportunism? Winning several multi-person matches, or turning on the one person that pinned the Universal Champion just so he wouldn’t challenge me!? By the way, I wasn’t the one that meant to bring my partner to Leap of Faith. Blame Theo Pryce for that one too, but at least I won that one fairly, as every other match I have had.

Even Nickles dared not go as far as to claim that it wasn’t him I pinned for this title, and now you’ve sunk yourself lower than he ever would, much like Biff Tannen waxing George McFly’s car. By the way, you seem to have mistaken me for Ruby, but if you think a kidney punch is not something a Saint of Athena is meant to do, you’re coming to the wrong battle.

For I’m not meant to be a superhero. I am meant to be a warrior, and a warrior’s charge is to fight.  But of course, leave it to Mark Flynn, at the most important match in his life, to resort to this kind of stupidity. As if I hadn’t had worse from Nickles, ALIAS, or Dolly Waters.

It’s a disgrace, it’s sad to see, and it’s my duty to put you down. Not merely to defend the title, or the future of the XWF, but for a humane cause - to put you out of everyone else’s misery. Say how I’m not a hero because I hit someone in the kidneys. You might be stuck in Micheal Graves’ body, but at least he was more creative when he tried to accuse me of punching ladies in their breasts.”

Drawing an exasperated sigh, the Lion waves that off. As much as Flynn would like to quibble, there was a critical mission ahead.

One day, certainly, the Lion would lose the title, as ALIAS did before him. But not here, not now.

Not at the biggest extravaganza of the XWF.

“But back to what really matters. I’ve carried myself with pride, but I’m not done just yet, and certainly not in the XWF’s flagship three-day event. Because there’s the most important battle to fight, the one final hurdle before I can look back without any regrets.

Because above all, the fact that I’ve made it so far represents something for the entirety of the roster of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, and the very thing a Saint of Athena embodies: Hope. Hope for the bright-eyed people out there that want to get in the ring that they too can become Raion Kido. Come out of nowhere like I did, and reach the ultimate heights in the time that I have.

The one thing that is never lost, Flynn. The wish towards the future. The promise of tomorrow.

You want to call this a sales pitch, a corporate choice, I say this is a statement - a promise for the XWF Universe. Because there was one man this year that came to shake it to its very core, and now represents everything the XWF is meant to be - and there is power in that, Flynn. When Raion Kido was announced to be the Universal Champion, the XWF entrusted me with their present, and with their future - with its very life. That’s the biggest responsibility that can be entrusted to a man, and it means that the one that receives it must be true.

That, Flynn, is why I have put myself through this ultimate challenge, and come to face you on your very own terms. Because I’m done with having my name doubted, with the likes of you trying to discredit me for having done what you couldn’t in a lifetime. The time to make the ultimate statement has come, and I come to Relentless to render you catatonic with Heaven’s Treasure - little more than a corpse to be flung out of the train - or until your fear of that end is greater than the one you felt when the North Korean War Criminal pinned me.”

But for the Lion, fear would not factor into this. There was, more than ever, an example to set, and a war to fight.

And it was time to end it once and for all.

“One way or another, Mr. King of the Midcarders, your reckoning is coming. Maybe you’ll come back the next Pay-Per-View, or maybe it’ll be another ten years before you get this opportunity once more, but the only way the biggest XWF event of 2022 is going to end is the way it should - with the crowning achievement of the Lion having performed a role worthy of legend.

The final jewel in the crown that shall make the cosmos burn once more, and shall send the thousands in attendance, the millions watching at home, and the people in the back, with a renewed hope in the power of the universe…”

The young Osaka wrestler points towards the sun, shining brightly above the train, its rays reflecting on his burnished Golden Cloth.

The ultimate proof of his worth and valor.

The proof of being a Saint of Athena - and worthy of the XWF Universal Title.

“... and the promise of tomorrow!”

Fade to black.
3000 words (wordcounter.net)]]> <![CDATA[...Wait! I'm still stuck like this?!?!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44562 Sat, 17 Sep 2022 23:05:56 -0700 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44562 “-etter HOPE Flynn stays unconscious, Kaye. If he wakes, he’ll break your wrists to punish your girlish, thieving hands…”

“Ha! Russian DOLT! Flynn’s no match for my SUPERIOR mind. Stealing his invention was like stealing fire from cavemen using the flames to light their own flatulence. Now, it rests in TRUE SCIENTIFIC HANDS.”

“Well, mister science. If you are cleverer than Flynn, why did you not design Flynn’s tech first?”

“...A genius’ retort: Why didn’t Edison invent the battery first?”

“...Because Edison was thief? Who stole from superior inventor, Tesla?”

“Because it was more cost-effective to snatch credit after INFERIOR FOOLS crafted a barely-functional prototype. Flynn… unwrapped the puzzle box, but I assembled the pieces. Flynn’s implementation? FLAWED. Only taking in PAST data. With the… borrowed... future-prediction algorithm from Waters’ drones…”

“Stolen.”

“BORROWED. We may now upload wrestling performances from the past, present AND FUT-.”

“SILENCE. BOTH OF YOU.”

…

“...How long… have our dreamer’s eyes been open?”

The sound of distant wheels… Nearing.

A big blurry face zips above… Glossy. Like you’re on a glass slide being looked at through a microscope.

“Simply a spasm. He’s out.”

“Is he… any closer to realizing his… entrapment?”

“HARDLY. Flynn’s completely bought into his new reality. He’s completely under our power of persuasion.”

“...How… riveting.”

…

“Initialize external profiles one and two.”

“Let us… test this… simulation...”

***

A quiet, muted step along the floor.

Flynn tries to snap alert… But, Goddamn, he’s so tired…

His eyes... Immensely heavy... he battles to open them… A blurry figure stands above…

“...NK? ‘Zat you?”

“There now… Just relax.”

A hand rubs Flynn’s shoulder. A coooooool cloth drips across his forehead…

Flynn’s muscles de-tense. He lies back, accepting this care.

Cool liquid runs down his forehead… His chin…

It smells saccharine sweet… Like a mountain breeze…

“You’ve been asleep for almost fifteen hours now...”

Flynn presses his wrists to his face, his hands still trembling.

“I had a HORRIBLE nightmare…”

Flynn shakes his head once, trying to dismiss the scenes he saw.

“I was in the FUTURE… About three months. I’d won a wrestling tournament and earned millions… BUT! I wasn’t myself. I was stuck in some DOGSHIT roadhack’s body… My God, his hands were unusable...”

Flynn shudders, overflowing with revulsion. “I couldn’t TIE MY SHOES, let alone collar-and-elbow tie-up…”

“Well… You’re safe and sound now.”

…Flynn breathes a sigh of relief, cradling his pillow…

“Back in good ol’ Hobotown.”

Flynn’s eyes open.

“With your financial advisor, Barney Green.”

…

Flynn squeezes the ‘pillow’.

Aluminum rustling.

It’s a trash bag.

…

Flynn peels the cool ‘cloth’ from his forehead.

…It’s a Taco Bell receipt…

Drenched in Mountain Dew Code Red.

…

“FfffffffffffffffffuUUUUUUUUUUUU-.”

***
OH GOD IS THIS FOREVER?!?!

[Image: Hobotown-USA.jpg]

Flynn-Gravy furiously crawls out of the tent…

“GoddammitGoddammitGodDamnITGODDAMMITGODDDDDDDAAAAAAAMMMIITT!” Flynn stomps on the uneven, cracked sidewalk of HoboTown.

“STUCK in this SHIT body-PRISON.”

Barney forward-somersaults out the tent flap. He’s surprisingly nimble despite being a fucking meatglobe.

“What’s wrong, Micheal? You seem upset. Perhaps another investment in the hottest new decentralized finance would raise your spirits…?”

…Flynn-Gravy inhales. He squeezes his fists and closes his eyes…

“...One step at a time. One. Step. At a time.”

…Hmmm. Closing his eyes enhances his sense-of-smell.

…Now he knows his body smells like spoiled milk and concentrated self-hatred.

“...If I’ma get my body back, I’m gonna need support.”

Flynn snaps his fingers at Barney.

“Phone. NOW.”

“Why? You lose yours, Micheal?”

…Flynn grimaces, slipping his hand into his Graves’ pocket.

“...Uggggggggh, Why are his pockets WET?”

Eventually, he fishes out Graves’ cracked-screen phone.

“...I don’t know my combination. I’m locked out.”

Green swipes his finger across the screen making a bent left-leaning L.

Chirp! Phone’s unlocked.

Flynn is astonished! “BarnDog! How’d you know?”

Green smiles. “Well, you’ve ALWAYS used the same passlock.”

Flynn’s brow contorts confused, squinting at the squiggle. “Why that one?”

“You made it look like your penis! So you’d never forget it.”

…

Flynn-Gravy tugs his waistband from his stomach, looking straight down.

…

…He cranes his neck sideways.

…

…Then, he begrudgingly nods.

“Yeah, fine. Checks out.”

Flynn-Gravy presses the shattered glass of the barely-functional phone to his face.

“Finally, NK’ll show up.” Flynn seethes furiously, as he jams the phone into his face. “I bet he’ll have a fuckin’ manifesto worth of jokes after seeing me like this…”

…

…No ring?

“*BEEEEEEEEP* The number you’ve dialed is no longer in service.”


…Flynn-Gravy’s brow contorts in puzzlement.

“...The fuck? NK’s Razr is his prized possession. It’s his channel to Central Command… He’d NEVER let his line get disconnected…”

Green peeks over Flynn-Gravy’s shoulder.

“Ah! Mister War Criminal, huh? Sadly, you can’t use him as a BarnCoin referral. He was a valued BarnCoin customer before the… incident.” Green’s hand squeezes Flynn-Gravy’s shoulder.

Flynn’s nostrils flare. He jams his index finger in Green’s face. “Barn, you were useful to me ONCE. Do NOT press your luck.” Flynn turns away huffily.

…

…Flynn slowly spins back around.

“What ‘incident’?”

“Sad. Comrade got tossed THROUGH an electrical box. Had about 1.21 jiggawatts of power course through his veins!”



“Great Scott!” Flynn clutches the sides of his head, shocked (though not as shocked as NK…)! “...Well, who did it?!? Bourbon? Chuck!?!...” Flynn gasps. “Cent! That dude DESPISES Korea!”

Barney grimly denies Flynn’s theories.

“Second-worst part: His COMRADE did the deed.”

Flynn gasps

“...Kato?!?”

“Flynn.”

…

“MARK Flynn?”

“Yep.”

“...Why would I… Er, why would FLYNN do that? They were on the hottest tag-team in… History! …Why would ‘Flynn’ fuck that up?”

“Because NK was about to become #1 Uni contender.” Replies Barney, matter-of-factly.

…

Flynn inhales deep…

And exhales.

“Yeah. Fuck, that checks out.”

…

“Wait, if that was the 2nd worst part, what’s the WORST part?”

“NK’ll never see the BarnCoin revolution truly take flight…” Barney shakes his head dejectedly.

Flynn hopelessly crashes against the wall.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck… There goes my back-up…”

…

Suddenly, Flynn side-eyes Green.

Hmmm… BarnDog has more surface area than NK… Objectively, a better meatshield.

…Flynn snaps his fingers.

“BarnDog. Great news. You’re going to help me pull off a… job.”

Barney checks his wrist, which has four watches on it.

“I dunno, Micheal. I’m already way behind on passing out free BarnCoin QR Codes. I try to do it 22 hours a day…”

Flynn turns his back on BG, grinning a twisted grin.

“If we pull off this job, Barn? And I get back what’s mine? I will PERSONALLY buy TWO-POINT-FIVE MILLION DOLLARS of your shitty mono-.”

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

…Flynn spins, seeing who-or-what’s honking…

A lime-green car with the letters B-G made out of dollar signs pulls up to the curb.

Green lays on the horn, his round head poking out the window.

“GET IN THE CAR. DIGITAL TIME IS DIGITAL MONEY.”

Flynn spins ‘round to see where Green was…

Vacant…

…

“Quick, too… Great meatshield potential!”

***

A security booth, leading into a nondescript office.

The Bureau of Interdimensional Affairs…

Flynn’s workplace.

…Maybe. If they aren’t still mad about him stealing his co-worker’s car and freeing an interdimensional terrorist…

The BarnCoinMobile’s window slowly creeps down…

Flynn-Gravy peeks his head above the door’s edge…

“Okay Barn. I need in there. You’ve gotta figure out some way to distract those guards. Whatcha got?”

…

“Barn?”

Flynn twists his neck back to the driver’s seat…

…Empty.

Flynn looks around… And in front of the car, a rotund salesman gallops.

“Hello!” Barney waves at two security guards, who point pistols at BG.

“Sir! No Civilians allowed! This area must remain SECURE.”

“Secure, huh? Betcha it’s not as secure as BarnCoin! Have you thought about all the ways physical money can be tracked directly via your DNA? I have!”

…Shit. If Barney isn’t tased-and-pepper-sprayed to death, BarnCoin just might have a chance.

Flynn-Gravy slips the cardoor open, juuuuuuust a crack…

The guards cower backward, screaming at Barney to drop his QR code…

Flynn-Gravy carefully side-steps the security booth… Creeping inside the building.

***

The Bureau’s inner sanctum.

Grandiose stairs, chockful of agents passing folders, briefing, securing the world… Nay, the fabric of the universe itself.

“...Fuckin’ nerds.” Flynn scoffs.

Flynn-Gravy inhales… Stuffing his hands in his pockets… Walking quickly to blend into the hustle-and-bustle of office culture.

Trying not to stick out like a scurvy-ridden thumb.

Most of these suits are from Armani. Flynn-Gravy’s coat is from… Whatever-Dead-Guy-Graves-Got-It-From.

Flynn-Gravy slinks to the bottom stair…

Suddenly, he sees…

Walking across the second floor.

…Flynn.

Er… Flynn’s body.

Flynn-Gravy bares his teeth, furious.

Based on Freaky Friday, this body's controlled by…

“Graaaaaaaves…” Flynn snarls.

Flynn-Body disinterestedly flips through pages in a folder…

Flynn-Gravy furiously sprints up the stairs! Two-at-a-time.

Flynn-Body yawns…

…

Wait. Flynn-Gravy squints. Something’s off.

Mid-jog, he focuses, measuring Flynn-Body’s line-of-sight…

…

…Above the page in his hand.

He’s not reading the files?

…

…It’s a trap!

As Flynn-Gravy’s toes touch the top stair…

He’s suddenly. And effortlessly.

Plucked off the ground.

A MANBEAST heaves him up by his collar.

Agent Redd Spahtz.

Flynn’s work-nemesis.

Flynn-Gravy’s feet dangle, kicking desperately mid-air.

“...Dammit, Spahtz, not now…”

Flynn-Body… emotionlessly snaps the folder shut. And drifts away.

Like a fly on a frog's tongue, Flynn-Gravy wriggles helplessly to slip free.

“Spahtz! You idiot! I’M FLYNN. A CIVILIAN snuck in here, Piloting MY BODY!”

In a split-second, Spahtz HEAVES HIM DOWNWARD! WHAM! With a sickening thud, Flynn-Gravy’s embedded a half-foot into now-crushed tile floor.

“...Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwie.”

…Reflexively, Flynn-Gravy latches onto Spahtz’s arm, deadweighting himself… If Spahtz can’t yank him up, he can’t re-slam him…

Spahtz crawls onto Flynn-Gravy, working for torque, to peel this flea-bitten urchin off the ground…

Flynn-Gravy desperately shifts grip up Spahtz’s arm, grasping onto Redd’s shoulder. As he does, Flynn-Gravy extends his heel to catch Spahtz’s ankle…

A trip! Spahtz tumbles to the floor.

As Spahtz falls, he gracefully somersaults onto his back, slipping out of Flynn-Gravy’s sweaty grip.

“...Stupid FUCKING hands…”

Avoiding a choke? Spahtz usually fights like a ten-year old girl. When did he learn grappling?

Before Spahtz can create distance, Flynn-Gravy mounts his hostile coworker.

“Gravy’s fists can’t grapple shit, but they’ll punch THE FUCK OUTTA YOU!”

Flynn-Gravy reels back…

His foe. Grizzled. Fearless. Baring his chin outwards.

Steely eyes.

Steely… purple? Eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Spahtz stares daggers back, eager for more.

“What are YOU to be looking at, butthead?”

Flynn’s eyes widen, shocked at Spahtz’s… thick Russian accent?!?

“POPINSKI?!?”

…

“YOU GOT FREAKY-FRIDAYED TOO?!?”

In a flash, Spahtz-Popinski tangles his arms around the back of Flynn-Gravy’s neck… And backward-somersaults.

Flynn-Gravy is propelled over the second-floor railing…

…

Headed straight for the first floor.

Going dooooooooooown.

***

Thump.

Thump.

The camera pans over to show Flynn is repeatedly punting a boot-shaped, six-inch dent into the plaster of the wall.

Thump.

Thump.

…

……

Flynn spins around toward the camera.

“Y’know what’s funny? Just… fucking hilarious to me?”

…

“Theo Pryce. THEO PRYCE… wants to pretend that I’m crazy. My SO-CALLED FRIEND, Theo finally met me in the ring… AFTER A YEAR OF ME CALLING HIM OUT.”

“To tell me to my face. That I’m wrong. That he’d neeeeeeeeeeeever work against his ol’ pal, Mark. How could I possibly think that he’d have aaaaaaaaanything but my best interest at heart?”

Flynn flutters his eyelashes twice, miming Theo’s alleged innocence.

“...Isn’t it funny? When I tried to make my case for Theo’s exertion of control? His malfeasance. His FUCKING BAD-FAITH ACTIONS…”

“...The XWF camera operator… missed his cue.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-16-at-5-09-16-PM.png]

“...I referenced some of Theo’s tweets on the X-Tron… And the viewer saw… NOTHING.”

“Almost as if Theo Pryce doesn’t WANT you to see hypocrisy spewed straight from his FUCKING FINGERTIPS.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-59-44-AM.png]

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-57-53-AM.png]

“...But, even worse, kids? What twists Pryce’s knife of betrayal so deep into my back that I feel the knife wrenching through my bleeding heart?”

…

“Theo WANTS  you… to believe that our Trios match? The one we lost together?”

Flynn shrugs, like whatEVER.

“Water under the bridge. Ancient history. Why would Theo possibly resent me for not winning a match where HE SHAT THE BED? What LUNATIC would believe that Theo Pryce would CLING onto an eight-year old grudge?!?”

…

“AND YET.”

“Two weeks before I MAIN EVENT Relentless.”

“My FIRST-AND-ONLY Universal Title match since I arrived TEN LONG YEARS AGO.”

“…What match does Theo book me in?”

…

“A Trios match.”

“AND NOT JUST ANY TRIOS MATCH. A Trios match against three celebrated champions.”

“Against a gibbering mental patient, a struggling addict… and Mark Flynn.”

“Desperately clinging to his sobriety.”

…

“Wanna pretend you don’t remember what happened AFTER that fateful 2014 match, Theo, ol’ pal?”

“I’ll remind ya.”

“I relapsed.”

“I spent years… YEARS of my prime fighting morphine withdrawal. My muscles shut DOWN because I couldn’t surrender to what I DESPERATELY CRAVED.”

“I drove a fucking car 95 miles-an-hour across three states when I couldn’t MOVE MY FUCKING ARMS… For you, Theo.”

…

“And this is how you repay me.”

“THAT’S THE FRIEND YOU ARE.”

“To keep the belt on your fucking Golden child money-factory? You’d send someone that bailed you out of a Colorado jail cell… Back into the HELL… OF ADDICTION.”

…

“Which brings us to… Raion Kido.”

Flynn beckons the camera closer.

“The chosen one.”

“Theo’s lapdog.”

“The CHOOOOOOOOOOOKE.”

“ARTIST.”

Flynn grins wide, leaning in.

“With his nifty little cape and his sharp little boots. His underwear outside his pants. Dressed up in fucking cosplay from a TV show he likes. Calling himself a hero.”

“NK hit the nail on the head. Your recent triumphs? You finally winning gold?”

“You couldn’t do it on your own.”

“You tried. And you failed. You lost against Bourbon for King of the XWF. You lost against Nickles for the TV Title.”

“Your biggest singles accomplishment, Kido? Beating Thad. An over-the-hill child that NK pinned in 90 seconds.”

“Big. FUCKING. Whoop.”

“Kido, you’re THE most mediocre singles wrestler to ever DIMINISH the Universal championship.”

“Your only strength?”

“Opportunism.”

“You’re a sneaky, DEVIOUS RAT.”

“Did you BEAT Bourbon and I to win your 24/7 briefcase?”

“No. You laid in wait until I tossed a GODDAMN CINDERBLOCK THROUGH A HELICOPTER, stealing my assured victory.”

“Did you PREVAIL over ALIAS?”

“No. You circled like a VULTURE, STEALING your ILL-GOTTEN GOODS from a rotten corpse.”

“When Kido can steal a victory? He will.”

“When he can’t? He fucking fails.”

“Every.”

“SINGLE.”

“Time.”

“WarGames? Should have been yours, Kido.”

“It was down to the Uni champ… And a green-as-goose-shit geek. With one year of training.”

“NK never held a REAL singles belt. He’d just lost to Charlie Fucking Nickles.”

“...But, like every other big Kido match? Where Raion has to win on his own merits?”

“You.”

“FUCKING.”

“CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKED.”

“And what beat you? Two weeks of training on how to shut down your flashy, low-impact offense… And dismantle your feeble defenses.”

“From Coach of the Year, Mark Fucking Flynn.”

“How’d I teach a talentless nerd to beat you?”

“Because deep down? I know you, Kido. I sized you up after our first meeting backstage at Fire & Ice. I know exactly who you are.”

“You wear spandex and tell kids about believing in yourself and the warrior’s spirit.”

“Makes sense. Get ‘em young, snag a customer for life, suckling at the teat of false hope. Screaming at their parents to throw their EARNED money to buy your shitty, faux-gold Halloween costume from the XWF SHOPZONE for $59.95 plus shipping-and-handling, service fee, convenience fee, autographed for $20 extra.”

“What a people’s champion you pretend to be.”

…

“But. I’ve seen you in action, Kido.”

“I’ve seen you kidney-punch a man. Over-and-over. ‘Til his body shut down.”

“…Somehow I missed that Saint Seiya issue… Where he KIDNEY-PUNCHES a villain.”

“Not a move in any hero’s repertoire.”

“You’re no fucking dispenser of justice. You’re no fucking embodiment of good.”

“You’re.”

“No.”

“Fucking.”

“Hero.”

…

“What are you, really?”

Flynn reaches behind his back… Revealing…

[Image: 839a0810-d388-498f-a60a-0277f843cd76.jpg]

A RAION KIDO ACTION FIGURE!

…Flynn slips a finger behind the toy…

Yanking a pullstring hanging off the toy’s back.

A third-rate speaker-embedded into the plastic Kido’s chest wheezes to life.

“*KRRRRRRSH*Burn Cosmos!*KRRRRRRSH*”

…Flynn shakes the toy gently up-and-down. You can hear the cheap plastic bits rustle in the toy’s interior.

“A product.”

“A sales pitch.”

“A BUSINESS DECISION.”

“That’s why Theo hitched his wagon to you. You’re MARKETABLE. And once Theo branded your ass? You became the face of the XWF.”

“What a FUCKIN’ coincidence.”

…

“Only… ONE small problem.”

“One obstacle in your path to an eternity of monetizable glory.”

“The man who bought free real estate in your head since we met.”

“The night of your debut.”

“Mark.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-44-54-AM.png]

“FUCKING.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-45-45-AM.png]

“FLYNN.”

“BEST.”

“WRESTLER.”

“WHO.”

“EVER.”

“LIVED.”

“Since Day One.”

…

“So, Theo.”

“Setup your merch table. Sell your t-shirts. Hawk your combo meals. Each one comes with an exclusive Kido toy! Collect all six! Combine them into a giant GOLDEN IDOL TO CONSUMERISM!”

“Hoard all the fucking wealth you can.”

“WHILE you can.”

“Because on Sunday.”

“The money pit drains…”

“I’m going to snap the limbs off your boytoy.”

“Like twisting the legs off an ant. One-by-one. Grinding them into filament and CHITIN. ”

…Flynn dips his fingers into his pocket…

“And as your precious toy oozes bile from every festering joint… As he howls agonizingly until his lungs collapse, too ENRAPT in the purest pain to notice the blood filling up his throat…”

Fishing out a match…

“I’ll lift his wriggling, mutilated torso.”

He strikes it against the wall…

“And cast it in the flames of the train’s engine. His body serving as fuel… As I reach the end…”

“Of the Optimal Path.”

Flynn gently rests the flame against the toy.

“And I’ll watch your toy buuuuuurn, Theo…”

The cheap paint immediately catches fire…

“Until the gold draped around your boy’s shoulders… Is smelted into a trophy worthy of my destiny.”

The toy’s face sinks inwards Its limbs dangle like putty…

The speaker fizzes… It cries with the last of its life...

“Buuuuuuuuuuurn Coooooooooosmoooooooooooo…”
OOC:wordcounter.com_word_count:3000]]> “-etter HOPE Flynn stays unconscious, Kaye. If he wakes, he’ll break your wrists to punish your girlish, thieving hands…”

“Ha! Russian DOLT! Flynn’s no match for my SUPERIOR mind. Stealing his invention was like stealing fire from cavemen using the flames to light their own flatulence. Now, it rests in TRUE SCIENTIFIC HANDS.”

“Well, mister science. If you are cleverer than Flynn, why did you not design Flynn’s tech first?”

“...A genius’ retort: Why didn’t Edison invent the battery first?”

“...Because Edison was thief? Who stole from superior inventor, Tesla?”

“Because it was more cost-effective to snatch credit after INFERIOR FOOLS crafted a barely-functional prototype. Flynn… unwrapped the puzzle box, but I assembled the pieces. Flynn’s implementation? FLAWED. Only taking in PAST data. With the… borrowed... future-prediction algorithm from Waters’ drones…”

“Stolen.”

“BORROWED. We may now upload wrestling performances from the past, present AND FUT-.”

“SILENCE. BOTH OF YOU.”

…

“...How long… have our dreamer’s eyes been open?”

The sound of distant wheels… Nearing.

A big blurry face zips above… Glossy. Like you’re on a glass slide being looked at through a microscope.

“Simply a spasm. He’s out.”

“Is he… any closer to realizing his… entrapment?”

“HARDLY. Flynn’s completely bought into his new reality. He’s completely under our power of persuasion.”

“...How… riveting.”

…

“Initialize external profiles one and two.”

“Let us… test this… simulation...”

***

A quiet, muted step along the floor.

Flynn tries to snap alert… But, Goddamn, he’s so tired…

His eyes... Immensely heavy... he battles to open them… A blurry figure stands above…

“...NK? ‘Zat you?”

“There now… Just relax.”

A hand rubs Flynn’s shoulder. A coooooool cloth drips across his forehead…

Flynn’s muscles de-tense. He lies back, accepting this care.

Cool liquid runs down his forehead… His chin…

It smells saccharine sweet… Like a mountain breeze…

“You’ve been asleep for almost fifteen hours now...”

Flynn presses his wrists to his face, his hands still trembling.

“I had a HORRIBLE nightmare…”

Flynn shakes his head once, trying to dismiss the scenes he saw.

“I was in the FUTURE… About three months. I’d won a wrestling tournament and earned millions… BUT! I wasn’t myself. I was stuck in some DOGSHIT roadhack’s body… My God, his hands were unusable...”

Flynn shudders, overflowing with revulsion. “I couldn’t TIE MY SHOES, let alone collar-and-elbow tie-up…”

“Well… You’re safe and sound now.”

…Flynn breathes a sigh of relief, cradling his pillow…

“Back in good ol’ Hobotown.”

Flynn’s eyes open.

“With your financial advisor, Barney Green.”

…

Flynn squeezes the ‘pillow’.

Aluminum rustling.

It’s a trash bag.

…

Flynn peels the cool ‘cloth’ from his forehead.

…It’s a Taco Bell receipt…

Drenched in Mountain Dew Code Red.

…

“FfffffffffffffffffuUUUUUUUUUUUU-.”

***
OH GOD IS THIS FOREVER?!?!

[Image: Hobotown-USA.jpg]

Flynn-Gravy furiously crawls out of the tent…

“GoddammitGoddammitGodDamnITGODDAMMITGODDDDDDDAAAAAAAMMMIITT!” Flynn stomps on the uneven, cracked sidewalk of HoboTown.

“STUCK in this SHIT body-PRISON.”

Barney forward-somersaults out the tent flap. He’s surprisingly nimble despite being a fucking meatglobe.

“What’s wrong, Micheal? You seem upset. Perhaps another investment in the hottest new decentralized finance would raise your spirits…?”

…Flynn-Gravy inhales. He squeezes his fists and closes his eyes…

“...One step at a time. One. Step. At a time.”

…Hmmm. Closing his eyes enhances his sense-of-smell.

…Now he knows his body smells like spoiled milk and concentrated self-hatred.

“...If I’ma get my body back, I’m gonna need support.”

Flynn snaps his fingers at Barney.

“Phone. NOW.”

“Why? You lose yours, Micheal?”

…Flynn grimaces, slipping his hand into his Graves’ pocket.

“...Uggggggggh, Why are his pockets WET?”

Eventually, he fishes out Graves’ cracked-screen phone.

“...I don’t know my combination. I’m locked out.”

Green swipes his finger across the screen making a bent left-leaning L.

Chirp! Phone’s unlocked.

Flynn is astonished! “BarnDog! How’d you know?”

Green smiles. “Well, you’ve ALWAYS used the same passlock.”

Flynn’s brow contorts confused, squinting at the squiggle. “Why that one?”

“You made it look like your penis! So you’d never forget it.”

…

Flynn-Gravy tugs his waistband from his stomach, looking straight down.

…

…He cranes his neck sideways.

…

…Then, he begrudgingly nods.

“Yeah, fine. Checks out.”

Flynn-Gravy presses the shattered glass of the barely-functional phone to his face.

“Finally, NK’ll show up.” Flynn seethes furiously, as he jams the phone into his face. “I bet he’ll have a fuckin’ manifesto worth of jokes after seeing me like this…”

…

…No ring?

“*BEEEEEEEEP* The number you’ve dialed is no longer in service.”


…Flynn-Gravy’s brow contorts in puzzlement.

“...The fuck? NK’s Razr is his prized possession. It’s his channel to Central Command… He’d NEVER let his line get disconnected…”

Green peeks over Flynn-Gravy’s shoulder.

“Ah! Mister War Criminal, huh? Sadly, you can’t use him as a BarnCoin referral. He was a valued BarnCoin customer before the… incident.” Green’s hand squeezes Flynn-Gravy’s shoulder.

Flynn’s nostrils flare. He jams his index finger in Green’s face. “Barn, you were useful to me ONCE. Do NOT press your luck.” Flynn turns away huffily.

…

…Flynn slowly spins back around.

“What ‘incident’?”

“Sad. Comrade got tossed THROUGH an electrical box. Had about 1.21 jiggawatts of power course through his veins!”



“Great Scott!” Flynn clutches the sides of his head, shocked (though not as shocked as NK…)! “...Well, who did it?!? Bourbon? Chuck!?!...” Flynn gasps. “Cent! That dude DESPISES Korea!”

Barney grimly denies Flynn’s theories.

“Second-worst part: His COMRADE did the deed.”

Flynn gasps

“...Kato?!?”

“Flynn.”

…

“MARK Flynn?”

“Yep.”

“...Why would I… Er, why would FLYNN do that? They were on the hottest tag-team in… History! …Why would ‘Flynn’ fuck that up?”

“Because NK was about to become #1 Uni contender.” Replies Barney, matter-of-factly.

…

Flynn inhales deep…

And exhales.

“Yeah. Fuck, that checks out.”

…

“Wait, if that was the 2nd worst part, what’s the WORST part?”

“NK’ll never see the BarnCoin revolution truly take flight…” Barney shakes his head dejectedly.

Flynn hopelessly crashes against the wall.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck… There goes my back-up…”

…

Suddenly, Flynn side-eyes Green.

Hmmm… BarnDog has more surface area than NK… Objectively, a better meatshield.

…Flynn snaps his fingers.

“BarnDog. Great news. You’re going to help me pull off a… job.”

Barney checks his wrist, which has four watches on it.

“I dunno, Micheal. I’m already way behind on passing out free BarnCoin QR Codes. I try to do it 22 hours a day…”

Flynn turns his back on BG, grinning a twisted grin.

“If we pull off this job, Barn? And I get back what’s mine? I will PERSONALLY buy TWO-POINT-FIVE MILLION DOLLARS of your shitty mono-.”

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

…Flynn spins, seeing who-or-what’s honking…

A lime-green car with the letters B-G made out of dollar signs pulls up to the curb.

Green lays on the horn, his round head poking out the window.

“GET IN THE CAR. DIGITAL TIME IS DIGITAL MONEY.”

Flynn spins ‘round to see where Green was…

Vacant…

…

“Quick, too… Great meatshield potential!”

***

A security booth, leading into a nondescript office.

The Bureau of Interdimensional Affairs…

Flynn’s workplace.

…Maybe. If they aren’t still mad about him stealing his co-worker’s car and freeing an interdimensional terrorist…

The BarnCoinMobile’s window slowly creeps down…

Flynn-Gravy peeks his head above the door’s edge…

“Okay Barn. I need in there. You’ve gotta figure out some way to distract those guards. Whatcha got?”

…

“Barn?”

Flynn twists his neck back to the driver’s seat…

…Empty.

Flynn looks around… And in front of the car, a rotund salesman gallops.

“Hello!” Barney waves at two security guards, who point pistols at BG.

“Sir! No Civilians allowed! This area must remain SECURE.”

“Secure, huh? Betcha it’s not as secure as BarnCoin! Have you thought about all the ways physical money can be tracked directly via your DNA? I have!”

…Shit. If Barney isn’t tased-and-pepper-sprayed to death, BarnCoin just might have a chance.

Flynn-Gravy slips the cardoor open, juuuuuuust a crack…

The guards cower backward, screaming at Barney to drop his QR code…

Flynn-Gravy carefully side-steps the security booth… Creeping inside the building.

***

The Bureau’s inner sanctum.

Grandiose stairs, chockful of agents passing folders, briefing, securing the world… Nay, the fabric of the universe itself.

“...Fuckin’ nerds.” Flynn scoffs.

Flynn-Gravy inhales… Stuffing his hands in his pockets… Walking quickly to blend into the hustle-and-bustle of office culture.

Trying not to stick out like a scurvy-ridden thumb.

Most of these suits are from Armani. Flynn-Gravy’s coat is from… Whatever-Dead-Guy-Graves-Got-It-From.

Flynn-Gravy slinks to the bottom stair…

Suddenly, he sees…

Walking across the second floor.

…Flynn.

Er… Flynn’s body.

Flynn-Gravy bares his teeth, furious.

Based on Freaky Friday, this body's controlled by…

“Graaaaaaaves…” Flynn snarls.

Flynn-Body disinterestedly flips through pages in a folder…

Flynn-Gravy furiously sprints up the stairs! Two-at-a-time.

Flynn-Body yawns…

…

Wait. Flynn-Gravy squints. Something’s off.

Mid-jog, he focuses, measuring Flynn-Body’s line-of-sight…

…

…Above the page in his hand.

He’s not reading the files?

…

…It’s a trap!

As Flynn-Gravy’s toes touch the top stair…

He’s suddenly. And effortlessly.

Plucked off the ground.

A MANBEAST heaves him up by his collar.

Agent Redd Spahtz.

Flynn’s work-nemesis.

Flynn-Gravy’s feet dangle, kicking desperately mid-air.

“...Dammit, Spahtz, not now…”

Flynn-Body… emotionlessly snaps the folder shut. And drifts away.

Like a fly on a frog's tongue, Flynn-Gravy wriggles helplessly to slip free.

“Spahtz! You idiot! I’M FLYNN. A CIVILIAN snuck in here, Piloting MY BODY!”

In a split-second, Spahtz HEAVES HIM DOWNWARD! WHAM! With a sickening thud, Flynn-Gravy’s embedded a half-foot into now-crushed tile floor.

“...Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwie.”

…Reflexively, Flynn-Gravy latches onto Spahtz’s arm, deadweighting himself… If Spahtz can’t yank him up, he can’t re-slam him…

Spahtz crawls onto Flynn-Gravy, working for torque, to peel this flea-bitten urchin off the ground…

Flynn-Gravy desperately shifts grip up Spahtz’s arm, grasping onto Redd’s shoulder. As he does, Flynn-Gravy extends his heel to catch Spahtz’s ankle…

A trip! Spahtz tumbles to the floor.

As Spahtz falls, he gracefully somersaults onto his back, slipping out of Flynn-Gravy’s sweaty grip.

“...Stupid FUCKING hands…”

Avoiding a choke? Spahtz usually fights like a ten-year old girl. When did he learn grappling?

Before Spahtz can create distance, Flynn-Gravy mounts his hostile coworker.

“Gravy’s fists can’t grapple shit, but they’ll punch THE FUCK OUTTA YOU!”

Flynn-Gravy reels back…

His foe. Grizzled. Fearless. Baring his chin outwards.

Steely eyes.

Steely… purple? Eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Spahtz stares daggers back, eager for more.

“What are YOU to be looking at, butthead?”

Flynn’s eyes widen, shocked at Spahtz’s… thick Russian accent?!?

“POPINSKI?!?”

…

“YOU GOT FREAKY-FRIDAYED TOO?!?”

In a flash, Spahtz-Popinski tangles his arms around the back of Flynn-Gravy’s neck… And backward-somersaults.

Flynn-Gravy is propelled over the second-floor railing…

…

Headed straight for the first floor.

Going dooooooooooown.

***

Thump.

Thump.

The camera pans over to show Flynn is repeatedly punting a boot-shaped, six-inch dent into the plaster of the wall.

Thump.

Thump.

…

……

Flynn spins around toward the camera.

“Y’know what’s funny? Just… fucking hilarious to me?”

…

“Theo Pryce. THEO PRYCE… wants to pretend that I’m crazy. My SO-CALLED FRIEND, Theo finally met me in the ring… AFTER A YEAR OF ME CALLING HIM OUT.”

“To tell me to my face. That I’m wrong. That he’d neeeeeeeeeeeever work against his ol’ pal, Mark. How could I possibly think that he’d have aaaaaaaaanything but my best interest at heart?”

Flynn flutters his eyelashes twice, miming Theo’s alleged innocence.

“...Isn’t it funny? When I tried to make my case for Theo’s exertion of control? His malfeasance. His FUCKING BAD-FAITH ACTIONS…”

“...The XWF camera operator… missed his cue.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-16-at-5-09-16-PM.png]

“...I referenced some of Theo’s tweets on the X-Tron… And the viewer saw… NOTHING.”

“Almost as if Theo Pryce doesn’t WANT you to see hypocrisy spewed straight from his FUCKING FINGERTIPS.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-59-44-AM.png]

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-57-53-AM.png]

“...But, even worse, kids? What twists Pryce’s knife of betrayal so deep into my back that I feel the knife wrenching through my bleeding heart?”

…

“Theo WANTS  you… to believe that our Trios match? The one we lost together?”

Flynn shrugs, like whatEVER.

“Water under the bridge. Ancient history. Why would Theo possibly resent me for not winning a match where HE SHAT THE BED? What LUNATIC would believe that Theo Pryce would CLING onto an eight-year old grudge?!?”

…

“AND YET.”

“Two weeks before I MAIN EVENT Relentless.”

“My FIRST-AND-ONLY Universal Title match since I arrived TEN LONG YEARS AGO.”

“…What match does Theo book me in?”

…

“A Trios match.”

“AND NOT JUST ANY TRIOS MATCH. A Trios match against three celebrated champions.”

“Against a gibbering mental patient, a struggling addict… and Mark Flynn.”

“Desperately clinging to his sobriety.”

…

“Wanna pretend you don’t remember what happened AFTER that fateful 2014 match, Theo, ol’ pal?”

“I’ll remind ya.”

“I relapsed.”

“I spent years… YEARS of my prime fighting morphine withdrawal. My muscles shut DOWN because I couldn’t surrender to what I DESPERATELY CRAVED.”

“I drove a fucking car 95 miles-an-hour across three states when I couldn’t MOVE MY FUCKING ARMS… For you, Theo.”

…

“And this is how you repay me.”

“THAT’S THE FRIEND YOU ARE.”

“To keep the belt on your fucking Golden child money-factory? You’d send someone that bailed you out of a Colorado jail cell… Back into the HELL… OF ADDICTION.”

…

“Which brings us to… Raion Kido.”

Flynn beckons the camera closer.

“The chosen one.”

“Theo’s lapdog.”

“The CHOOOOOOOOOOOKE.”

“ARTIST.”

Flynn grins wide, leaning in.

“With his nifty little cape and his sharp little boots. His underwear outside his pants. Dressed up in fucking cosplay from a TV show he likes. Calling himself a hero.”

“NK hit the nail on the head. Your recent triumphs? You finally winning gold?”

“You couldn’t do it on your own.”

“You tried. And you failed. You lost against Bourbon for King of the XWF. You lost against Nickles for the TV Title.”

“Your biggest singles accomplishment, Kido? Beating Thad. An over-the-hill child that NK pinned in 90 seconds.”

“Big. FUCKING. Whoop.”

“Kido, you’re THE most mediocre singles wrestler to ever DIMINISH the Universal championship.”

“Your only strength?”

“Opportunism.”

“You’re a sneaky, DEVIOUS RAT.”

“Did you BEAT Bourbon and I to win your 24/7 briefcase?”

“No. You laid in wait until I tossed a GODDAMN CINDERBLOCK THROUGH A HELICOPTER, stealing my assured victory.”

“Did you PREVAIL over ALIAS?”

“No. You circled like a VULTURE, STEALING your ILL-GOTTEN GOODS from a rotten corpse.”

“When Kido can steal a victory? He will.”

“When he can’t? He fucking fails.”

“Every.”

“SINGLE.”

“Time.”

“WarGames? Should have been yours, Kido.”

“It was down to the Uni champ… And a green-as-goose-shit geek. With one year of training.”

“NK never held a REAL singles belt. He’d just lost to Charlie Fucking Nickles.”

“...But, like every other big Kido match? Where Raion has to win on his own merits?”

“You.”

“FUCKING.”

“CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKED.”

“And what beat you? Two weeks of training on how to shut down your flashy, low-impact offense… And dismantle your feeble defenses.”

“From Coach of the Year, Mark Fucking Flynn.”

“How’d I teach a talentless nerd to beat you?”

“Because deep down? I know you, Kido. I sized you up after our first meeting backstage at Fire & Ice. I know exactly who you are.”

“You wear spandex and tell kids about believing in yourself and the warrior’s spirit.”

“Makes sense. Get ‘em young, snag a customer for life, suckling at the teat of false hope. Screaming at their parents to throw their EARNED money to buy your shitty, faux-gold Halloween costume from the XWF SHOPZONE for $59.95 plus shipping-and-handling, service fee, convenience fee, autographed for $20 extra.”

“What a people’s champion you pretend to be.”

…

“But. I’ve seen you in action, Kido.”

“I’ve seen you kidney-punch a man. Over-and-over. ‘Til his body shut down.”

“…Somehow I missed that Saint Seiya issue… Where he KIDNEY-PUNCHES a villain.”

“Not a move in any hero’s repertoire.”

“You’re no fucking dispenser of justice. You’re no fucking embodiment of good.”

“You’re.”

“No.”

“Fucking.”

“Hero.”

…

“What are you, really?”

Flynn reaches behind his back… Revealing…

[Image: 839a0810-d388-498f-a60a-0277f843cd76.jpg]

A RAION KIDO ACTION FIGURE!

…Flynn slips a finger behind the toy…

Yanking a pullstring hanging off the toy’s back.

A third-rate speaker-embedded into the plastic Kido’s chest wheezes to life.

“*KRRRRRRSH*Burn Cosmos!*KRRRRRRSH*”

…Flynn shakes the toy gently up-and-down. You can hear the cheap plastic bits rustle in the toy’s interior.

“A product.”

“A sales pitch.”

“A BUSINESS DECISION.”

“That’s why Theo hitched his wagon to you. You’re MARKETABLE. And once Theo branded your ass? You became the face of the XWF.”

“What a FUCKIN’ coincidence.”

…

“Only… ONE small problem.”

“One obstacle in your path to an eternity of monetizable glory.”

“The man who bought free real estate in your head since we met.”

“The night of your debut.”

“Mark.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-44-54-AM.png]

“FUCKING.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-45-45-AM.png]

“FLYNN.”

“BEST.”

“WRESTLER.”

“WHO.”

“EVER.”

“LIVED.”

“Since Day One.”

…

“So, Theo.”

“Setup your merch table. Sell your t-shirts. Hawk your combo meals. Each one comes with an exclusive Kido toy! Collect all six! Combine them into a giant GOLDEN IDOL TO CONSUMERISM!”

“Hoard all the fucking wealth you can.”

“WHILE you can.”

“Because on Sunday.”

“The money pit drains…”

“I’m going to snap the limbs off your boytoy.”

“Like twisting the legs off an ant. One-by-one. Grinding them into filament and CHITIN. ”

…Flynn dips his fingers into his pocket…

“And as your precious toy oozes bile from every festering joint… As he howls agonizingly until his lungs collapse, too ENRAPT in the purest pain to notice the blood filling up his throat…”

Fishing out a match…

“I’ll lift his wriggling, mutilated torso.”

He strikes it against the wall…

“And cast it in the flames of the train’s engine. His body serving as fuel… As I reach the end…”

“Of the Optimal Path.”

Flynn gently rests the flame against the toy.

“And I’ll watch your toy buuuuuurn, Theo…”

The cheap paint immediately catches fire…

“Until the gold draped around your boy’s shoulders… Is smelted into a trophy worthy of my destiny.”

The toy’s face sinks inwards Its limbs dangle like putty…

The speaker fizzes… It cries with the last of its life...

“Buuuuuuuuuuurn Coooooooooosmoooooooooooo…”
OOC:wordcounter.com_word_count:3000]]> <![CDATA[Act CII: Bullfighter - Part 1 of 2]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44512 Sat, 17 Sep 2022 21:57:09 -0700 Finn Kühn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44512





15 September 2022
John Wayne Airport
Santa Ana, California


"You booked me on a plane to head out to Scotland?" I asked in disbelief as I took a look at the plane ticket being handed to me.

"Sure did!" The blonde responded with her ever-so peppy attitude, seemingly not fazed in the slightest by my expression. She managed to somehow ignore the obvious elephant in the room as to 'why,' instead focusing on one of the other million thoughts a minute that spun through her head. "You know, for someone who just lost on Warfare, by the by, you're not looking too bad in spirits."

I gave a simple shrug in response. "Because I figured out things, at least somewhat. King was a good opponent, and we tore the house down together. He can go on and proclaim himself a 'ruler,' but our match could have gone either way. I know now that I'm just a touch below the heights I was once at, and I know where to start working on things. For once, I have at least some sense of direction."

"Well, glad to see you're making the best out of a bad situation," the blonde said, walking with me as we walked through the sterile halls of the airport, luggage rattling behind us as we went through lines. Between my suitcase in one hand and my duffel bag in another, my hands were clearly full. It was early morning still - I had been wanting to get a move on early back to home and managed to beat the traffic, but this new 'gift' had blindsided me. And speaking of...

"So... you wanna explain why you have me going to Scotland, of all places?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Consider it a favor!" She responded with a smile. "I had to pull a lot of strings to try getting this done, but it worked out in the end. I managed to get you set up with one of the world's best trainers."

"Is that so?" Needless to say, I was skeptical. This was high praise coming from her, and yet... "So tell me, who's this magical trainer you've managed to pick out?"

"Skyla Hawkins."

"Never heard of her," I shot back quickly with a squint of my eyes. "Are you trying to drag me along...?"

"What? No!" She said, holding her hands up innocently. Or rather... one hand, considering her other was busy rolling her suitcase along. "I swear, uh, scout's honor and all that! You're clearly taking things here seriously again and you're wanting to put in the work to get better on things again, so I took it upon myself to repay that by getting you better materials to succeed and maybe... y'know... improve your confidence a bit! Beats being in your apartment along being a downer anyway, right?"

Her explanation gave me a quiet pause as we continued walking. Improve my confidence... I told her my doubts before this past week before we had gotten to binge watching XWF content together, and she had been thinking for a while. Did that mean-

"You planned this for a while, didn't you?" came my eventual question, my curiosity towards this woman expanding itself again.

"Well... maybe I did!" She said with a wave of her hand, trying to dismiss me and have me not notice the faint flush on her cheeks. "Besides, not like that would change things either way, wouldn't it?"

My first instinct was to press her and ask her why she would do such a thing. I still had my doubts as to this 'Skyla Hawkins' woman, but if nothing else, this woman was at least genuine in her concern and trying to help me. But at the same time, I knew if I pressed her, she'd likely try to dismiss me again and dodge the question given how she just brushed me off there. My flight would be leaving soon enough, and I had business matters to tend to rather than something like this, so instead I made it a mental note to ask later. For now, though...

"Okay, well... thank you, then. How can I repay you?"

"Well..." The woman brushed her long locks out of her eyes, turning to look at me as she did so with a smile that was far more cheeky. "I think you can start by remembering my name."

I cursed underneath my breath. That was the least I could do, given the situation. And yet, I had actively avoided trying to think of her name because I knew I would end up messing it up. The woes and stresses of my match had ended up taking up far more of my mental space than I had intended, and through it all, the name that I had forgotten in the process was...

"Charlotte."

"Christine," She replied with a deadpan expression, noticing the slight sag in my shoulders as she delivered to me my shortcoming yet again.

"One of these days, I'm going to remember it," I said in a reassuring voice. But, whether I was reassuring her or myself, I wasn't sure of in that moment.

"Uh-huh," Christine said with a knowing expression. She then reached into her jacket, pulling out a brand new manila folder. I raised an eyebrow, already knowing what it was going to hold at this point. "I figure we should get to business right now, though. Luckily for you, we've got your opponent for Relentless all ironed out now, so we should get right to the nitty-gritty."

Expectantly, she held the folder out to me, but instead, Christine's gaze was forced to follow my own eyes that went to both of my hands being occupied with my luggage. "Yeah... I think you're going to have to wait on that one."

Well, I had to give Christine credit. She only paused for a second, trying to readjust, before going on ahead of me slightly as she adjusted her purse and duffel bag on her shoulders. She then proceeded to open the manila envelope in front of me as she walked backwards, holding it up in my eyesight as if it were flash cards. I held in a chuckle at the display, with her enthusiasm almost infectious at this point, but it didn't stop her from going on.

"So, you're going to be on the third day of Relentless - my condolences, Part 3 of Back to the Future is honestly my least favorite-" Before she could continue on, I cut her off.

"Never watched the trilogy," I said with a small shrug.

"What?!" Christine almost shouted before managing to catch herself in time. Looking around and trying to shrug off the few people who looked around and noticed her as best as she could, she cleared her throat before turning her attention back to me. "Right... we're changing that. I'll make sure it'll be available for you to watch on the flight. A-ny-way, you're going to be in an 'I Quit' Match against another new face to the company. Unlike with Isaiah King last Warfare though, this guy is just as good, if not better, and he has a bit more experience to his name."

Christine pointed down on the basic information sheet, pointing to the guy's face that was pictured alongside his name. "'Buster Gloves'? The Hell kind of a ring name is that?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Only the name of the former Wisdom Champion in Level-Up Wrestling. Believe me, funky ring name or no, the 'Bull of the North' is a feared opponent," Christine said in an attempt to get my mind back on track.

"Believe me, I'm not doubting that in the slightest, but-" Quickly, my vision perked up as I recognized what was coming ahead. "Step to the left," I directed while adjusting the duffel bag on my own shoulder accordingly.

"What'd you sa- Ow!" Christine winced as her shoulder hit the pillar, causing some of the pages in the folder to go loose, causing her to have to collect the offending documents.

"Told you," I said while shaking my head. Hopefully, she'd keep her ears open next time.

"Anyway... go on?"

"As I was saying... I'm not doubting that. Obviously he's skilled, even if he really needs a lesson in how to pick a ring alias. Him being a champion elsewhere proves my point. Tell me more about him." I asked, prompting Christine.

She quickly got the memo, flipping through to a set of different pictures now. She pointed through each of them, showing them off to me. "So, he really knows what he's doing. He started off in the Army, and actually became a Sergeant over three tours while competing in MMA at the same time. And like, some of his knockouts were just..." Christine brought a hand to her mouth, mimicking a chef's kiss. Clearly she was infatuated with yet another of my opponents...

Sure enough, Christine found herself in that mindset too, coughing slightly and covering her mouth while doing so, so as to hide the blush on her face. "A-Anyway... he's also a black belt in BJJ, but given how you handled yourself against Isaiah King, I'd say that's nothing you haven't faced before. But the real good stuff on him happened in Level-Up Wrestling, like I said. He's coming off a solid four-month reign, he's at the top of his game, this is his first time appearing outside of the company... needless to say, even if you've got the opening match-up, you're gonna have a lot of eyes on you on the big stage."

Christine went on, even with her speech finished, pulling up some notable photographs of his moves in the ring. His D'arce Choke technique looked almost impenetrable - I was going to have my work cut out for me if I was locked into that. Still...

"Guy to your right," I chimed in while moving.

"Ah- sorry!" Christine managed to get out, avoiding a bump for the second time today.

I took a deep breath, trying to collect my wording. A tough challenge was in front of me, there was no question about that.

"I'll handle it. I have to. If there's one thing I can say about myself, confidently, it's that I'm not afraid of any opponent. This guy - I'm so not calling him [b]Buster fucking Gloves - can say he's got the experience over me, the accolades over me... fine. Whatever. He can hold that high above his head all he wants."[/b] My gaze turned resolute as I looked in front of the man as he was pictured holding the Wisdom Championship high.

"Because one thing is for sure - this man has never stepped foot in an XWF ring. I don't care what odds people have this match coming in at, I don't care what he's done before now, I don't care if the whole world is against me. I'm going to go into Hill Valley in two weeks from now, and I'm going to look in his eyes, and I will show him the eyes of a man who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain."

"Because that's the thing, Christine. When people have been riding high on success, they get used to it. A little too used to it. They let themselves grow lax at the top, but sooner or later, the man on the bottom gets the glint of ambition in his eye. He has that ambition, he grabs onto it, he clings to it, he gets addicted to that feeling and he rides it all the way to the top where he throws off the man who's gotten lax. This guy got a taste of that when he lost his belt, but believe you and me, if he thinks he's going to come right into an XWF ring and expect a cakewalk out of me, I will submit him so fast nobody will be saying 'I Quit' faster than him."

"So yes. I hope he brings his all. I hope he brings that same hunger and tenacity with him that he had when he won his belt in the first place, just so he can face my own endless ambition that I'm going to climb to the top with. I want him to see my ambition, the drive of a man who yearns to truly be the best. I want to face this man at his best, so I can show him just what exactly this company has. We're going to steal the show together, and win or lose, I'm going to expand my own limits and get closer to figure I want to be - the Kaiser."

"That was... well said. So, all things considered- AH!" Christine yelped as she backpedaled right into the metal bench that was right behind her, the papers in the folder flying everywhere. I sighed, stopping and bending over to help pick it up.

"Yeah, that was on me. I got held up talking about him that I didn't pay too much attention. Sorry about that..." I managed to get everything in a neat stack, bringing it back to Christine who slid it all back in the folder.

"It's okay..." She winced before getting back onto her feet. "Just... be sure to take the folder with you while you go, yeah? Matter of fact..." Not waiting for my say-so, she quickly unzippered my duffel bag now that we stopped walking and slid it all in.

"Thanks. Anyway, it's... not much further to the gate now. Anything I should know about our mysterious Miss Hawkins before we part ways to our own flights?" I asked. The more information I had before dealing with her, the better...

"To put it succinctly..." Christine said, placing a finger on her chin. "She's tough. Like, really really tough. The reason why she's so selective with whoever she trains is because most people would wind up dead from her training regimen."

"Sounds to me like she's not too effective of a trainer then if things are that bad with her," I muttered as I shook my head.

"But it works with her! Believe me, if she sticks with you, and vice-versa, you'll be going way past any limits you thought you had, and then some. I don't think I've seen anyone with a better head for combat than her, honestly..." Was Christine just... sweating just from talking about this woman? "Anyway, we agreed to have you go to an address that I'll text you when your flight lands. I think she has some sort of... trial ready for you to see if you're good to go, but she didn't really go too much into detail..."

"Joy..." I muttered as I shook my head. "Well, guess I better not keep our mystery woman waiting then. I'll be off, and if I don't somehow die in the process of being 'trained' by her... we'll meet up again at Relentless. Hopefully, before my second win back."

"Yeah, looks like it..." Christine brought herself up, dusting herself off before giving me a nod. "Good luck, Finn! I know you can win there tonight!"

With that, the pudgy woman went off to a separate gate, leaving me by my lonesome as I looked out amidst the ever-expanding airport. I sighed, releasing the pent-up air in my lungs as I stepped forward.

"You're going to fail."

I perked up, looking around. Was that Christine? My eyes squinted, trying to figure out the source, and yet... I didn't see anyone looking at me. It must have been someone talking to someone else.

"I know you hear me..."

The chilling voice that crept down my spine finally gave me pause. A dull ringing in my ears was intensifying by the minute as it felt like an endless sea of eyes was staring right into my very core. My own layer of sweat was starting to build as my heart was pounding against my chest.

"How many times are you going to do this? How many times will you be coming back to this place? How many times does this have to happen to you again and again to find out the truth?"

"You are a mere failure. Just like how you failed against Caedus. Just like how you failed to get the Universal title. Just like how you failed against Isaiah King..."

"And just like how you will fail at Relentless."

I clenched my fists around my luggage, biting my lip hard enough to where I could taste my own blood.

"Watch me," I said with a tone strong enough to cut through to the silent voice in my own heart.

"I'll become the star of this damned show."

(Word Count - 2,789 per wordcounter.net)
]]>





15 September 2022
John Wayne Airport
Santa Ana, California


"You booked me on a plane to head out to Scotland?" I asked in disbelief as I took a look at the plane ticket being handed to me.

"Sure did!" The blonde responded with her ever-so peppy attitude, seemingly not fazed in the slightest by my expression. She managed to somehow ignore the obvious elephant in the room as to 'why,' instead focusing on one of the other million thoughts a minute that spun through her head. "You know, for someone who just lost on Warfare, by the by, you're not looking too bad in spirits."

I gave a simple shrug in response. "Because I figured out things, at least somewhat. King was a good opponent, and we tore the house down together. He can go on and proclaim himself a 'ruler,' but our match could have gone either way. I know now that I'm just a touch below the heights I was once at, and I know where to start working on things. For once, I have at least some sense of direction."

"Well, glad to see you're making the best out of a bad situation," the blonde said, walking with me as we walked through the sterile halls of the airport, luggage rattling behind us as we went through lines. Between my suitcase in one hand and my duffel bag in another, my hands were clearly full. It was early morning still - I had been wanting to get a move on early back to home and managed to beat the traffic, but this new 'gift' had blindsided me. And speaking of...

"So... you wanna explain why you have me going to Scotland, of all places?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Consider it a favor!" She responded with a smile. "I had to pull a lot of strings to try getting this done, but it worked out in the end. I managed to get you set up with one of the world's best trainers."

"Is that so?" Needless to say, I was skeptical. This was high praise coming from her, and yet... "So tell me, who's this magical trainer you've managed to pick out?"

"Skyla Hawkins."

"Never heard of her," I shot back quickly with a squint of my eyes. "Are you trying to drag me along...?"

"What? No!" She said, holding her hands up innocently. Or rather... one hand, considering her other was busy rolling her suitcase along. "I swear, uh, scout's honor and all that! You're clearly taking things here seriously again and you're wanting to put in the work to get better on things again, so I took it upon myself to repay that by getting you better materials to succeed and maybe... y'know... improve your confidence a bit! Beats being in your apartment along being a downer anyway, right?"

Her explanation gave me a quiet pause as we continued walking. Improve my confidence... I told her my doubts before this past week before we had gotten to binge watching XWF content together, and she had been thinking for a while. Did that mean-

"You planned this for a while, didn't you?" came my eventual question, my curiosity towards this woman expanding itself again.

"Well... maybe I did!" She said with a wave of her hand, trying to dismiss me and have me not notice the faint flush on her cheeks. "Besides, not like that would change things either way, wouldn't it?"

My first instinct was to press her and ask her why she would do such a thing. I still had my doubts as to this 'Skyla Hawkins' woman, but if nothing else, this woman was at least genuine in her concern and trying to help me. But at the same time, I knew if I pressed her, she'd likely try to dismiss me again and dodge the question given how she just brushed me off there. My flight would be leaving soon enough, and I had business matters to tend to rather than something like this, so instead I made it a mental note to ask later. For now, though...

"Okay, well... thank you, then. How can I repay you?"

"Well..." The woman brushed her long locks out of her eyes, turning to look at me as she did so with a smile that was far more cheeky. "I think you can start by remembering my name."

I cursed underneath my breath. That was the least I could do, given the situation. And yet, I had actively avoided trying to think of her name because I knew I would end up messing it up. The woes and stresses of my match had ended up taking up far more of my mental space than I had intended, and through it all, the name that I had forgotten in the process was...

"Charlotte."

"Christine," She replied with a deadpan expression, noticing the slight sag in my shoulders as she delivered to me my shortcoming yet again.

"One of these days, I'm going to remember it," I said in a reassuring voice. But, whether I was reassuring her or myself, I wasn't sure of in that moment.

"Uh-huh," Christine said with a knowing expression. She then reached into her jacket, pulling out a brand new manila folder. I raised an eyebrow, already knowing what it was going to hold at this point. "I figure we should get to business right now, though. Luckily for you, we've got your opponent for Relentless all ironed out now, so we should get right to the nitty-gritty."

Expectantly, she held the folder out to me, but instead, Christine's gaze was forced to follow my own eyes that went to both of my hands being occupied with my luggage. "Yeah... I think you're going to have to wait on that one."

Well, I had to give Christine credit. She only paused for a second, trying to readjust, before going on ahead of me slightly as she adjusted her purse and duffel bag on her shoulders. She then proceeded to open the manila envelope in front of me as she walked backwards, holding it up in my eyesight as if it were flash cards. I held in a chuckle at the display, with her enthusiasm almost infectious at this point, but it didn't stop her from going on.

"So, you're going to be on the third day of Relentless - my condolences, Part 3 of Back to the Future is honestly my least favorite-" Before she could continue on, I cut her off.

"Never watched the trilogy," I said with a small shrug.

"What?!" Christine almost shouted before managing to catch herself in time. Looking around and trying to shrug off the few people who looked around and noticed her as best as she could, she cleared her throat before turning her attention back to me. "Right... we're changing that. I'll make sure it'll be available for you to watch on the flight. A-ny-way, you're going to be in an 'I Quit' Match against another new face to the company. Unlike with Isaiah King last Warfare though, this guy is just as good, if not better, and he has a bit more experience to his name."

Christine pointed down on the basic information sheet, pointing to the guy's face that was pictured alongside his name. "'Buster Gloves'? The Hell kind of a ring name is that?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Only the name of the former Wisdom Champion in Level-Up Wrestling. Believe me, funky ring name or no, the 'Bull of the North' is a feared opponent," Christine said in an attempt to get my mind back on track.

"Believe me, I'm not doubting that in the slightest, but-" Quickly, my vision perked up as I recognized what was coming ahead. "Step to the left," I directed while adjusting the duffel bag on my own shoulder accordingly.

"What'd you sa- Ow!" Christine winced as her shoulder hit the pillar, causing some of the pages in the folder to go loose, causing her to have to collect the offending documents.

"Told you," I said while shaking my head. Hopefully, she'd keep her ears open next time.

"Anyway... go on?"

"As I was saying... I'm not doubting that. Obviously he's skilled, even if he really needs a lesson in how to pick a ring alias. Him being a champion elsewhere proves my point. Tell me more about him." I asked, prompting Christine.

She quickly got the memo, flipping through to a set of different pictures now. She pointed through each of them, showing them off to me. "So, he really knows what he's doing. He started off in the Army, and actually became a Sergeant over three tours while competing in MMA at the same time. And like, some of his knockouts were just..." Christine brought a hand to her mouth, mimicking a chef's kiss. Clearly she was infatuated with yet another of my opponents...

Sure enough, Christine found herself in that mindset too, coughing slightly and covering her mouth while doing so, so as to hide the blush on her face. "A-Anyway... he's also a black belt in BJJ, but given how you handled yourself against Isaiah King, I'd say that's nothing you haven't faced before. But the real good stuff on him happened in Level-Up Wrestling, like I said. He's coming off a solid four-month reign, he's at the top of his game, this is his first time appearing outside of the company... needless to say, even if you've got the opening match-up, you're gonna have a lot of eyes on you on the big stage."

Christine went on, even with her speech finished, pulling up some notable photographs of his moves in the ring. His D'arce Choke technique looked almost impenetrable - I was going to have my work cut out for me if I was locked into that. Still...

"Guy to your right," I chimed in while moving.

"Ah- sorry!" Christine managed to get out, avoiding a bump for the second time today.

I took a deep breath, trying to collect my wording. A tough challenge was in front of me, there was no question about that.

"I'll handle it. I have to. If there's one thing I can say about myself, confidently, it's that I'm not afraid of any opponent. This guy - I'm so not calling him [b]Buster fucking Gloves - can say he's got the experience over me, the accolades over me... fine. Whatever. He can hold that high above his head all he wants."[/b] My gaze turned resolute as I looked in front of the man as he was pictured holding the Wisdom Championship high.

"Because one thing is for sure - this man has never stepped foot in an XWF ring. I don't care what odds people have this match coming in at, I don't care what he's done before now, I don't care if the whole world is against me. I'm going to go into Hill Valley in two weeks from now, and I'm going to look in his eyes, and I will show him the eyes of a man who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain."

"Because that's the thing, Christine. When people have been riding high on success, they get used to it. A little too used to it. They let themselves grow lax at the top, but sooner or later, the man on the bottom gets the glint of ambition in his eye. He has that ambition, he grabs onto it, he clings to it, he gets addicted to that feeling and he rides it all the way to the top where he throws off the man who's gotten lax. This guy got a taste of that when he lost his belt, but believe you and me, if he thinks he's going to come right into an XWF ring and expect a cakewalk out of me, I will submit him so fast nobody will be saying 'I Quit' faster than him."

"So yes. I hope he brings his all. I hope he brings that same hunger and tenacity with him that he had when he won his belt in the first place, just so he can face my own endless ambition that I'm going to climb to the top with. I want him to see my ambition, the drive of a man who yearns to truly be the best. I want to face this man at his best, so I can show him just what exactly this company has. We're going to steal the show together, and win or lose, I'm going to expand my own limits and get closer to figure I want to be - the Kaiser."

"That was... well said. So, all things considered- AH!" Christine yelped as she backpedaled right into the metal bench that was right behind her, the papers in the folder flying everywhere. I sighed, stopping and bending over to help pick it up.

"Yeah, that was on me. I got held up talking about him that I didn't pay too much attention. Sorry about that..." I managed to get everything in a neat stack, bringing it back to Christine who slid it all back in the folder.

"It's okay..." She winced before getting back onto her feet. "Just... be sure to take the folder with you while you go, yeah? Matter of fact..." Not waiting for my say-so, she quickly unzippered my duffel bag now that we stopped walking and slid it all in.

"Thanks. Anyway, it's... not much further to the gate now. Anything I should know about our mysterious Miss Hawkins before we part ways to our own flights?" I asked. The more information I had before dealing with her, the better...

"To put it succinctly..." Christine said, placing a finger on her chin. "She's tough. Like, really really tough. The reason why she's so selective with whoever she trains is because most people would wind up dead from her training regimen."

"Sounds to me like she's not too effective of a trainer then if things are that bad with her," I muttered as I shook my head.

"But it works with her! Believe me, if she sticks with you, and vice-versa, you'll be going way past any limits you thought you had, and then some. I don't think I've seen anyone with a better head for combat than her, honestly..." Was Christine just... sweating just from talking about this woman? "Anyway, we agreed to have you go to an address that I'll text you when your flight lands. I think she has some sort of... trial ready for you to see if you're good to go, but she didn't really go too much into detail..."

"Joy..." I muttered as I shook my head. "Well, guess I better not keep our mystery woman waiting then. I'll be off, and if I don't somehow die in the process of being 'trained' by her... we'll meet up again at Relentless. Hopefully, before my second win back."

"Yeah, looks like it..." Christine brought herself up, dusting herself off before giving me a nod. "Good luck, Finn! I know you can win there tonight!"

With that, the pudgy woman went off to a separate gate, leaving me by my lonesome as I looked out amidst the ever-expanding airport. I sighed, releasing the pent-up air in my lungs as I stepped forward.

"You're going to fail."

I perked up, looking around. Was that Christine? My eyes squinted, trying to figure out the source, and yet... I didn't see anyone looking at me. It must have been someone talking to someone else.

"I know you hear me..."

The chilling voice that crept down my spine finally gave me pause. A dull ringing in my ears was intensifying by the minute as it felt like an endless sea of eyes was staring right into my very core. My own layer of sweat was starting to build as my heart was pounding against my chest.

"How many times are you going to do this? How many times will you be coming back to this place? How many times does this have to happen to you again and again to find out the truth?"

"You are a mere failure. Just like how you failed against Caedus. Just like how you failed to get the Universal title. Just like how you failed against Isaiah King..."

"And just like how you will fail at Relentless."

I clenched my fists around my luggage, biting my lip hard enough to where I could taste my own blood.

"Watch me," I said with a tone strong enough to cut through to the silent voice in my own heart.

"I'll become the star of this damned show."

(Word Count - 2,789 per wordcounter.net)
]]> <![CDATA[Sack to the Future]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44553 Fri, 16 Sep 2022 21:30:38 -0700 Richard Powers]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44553 OOC: There's a few coding errors that I tried to fix but when I did they fucked everything up more, I don't know just deal with it. Sorry. 
Sack to the Future

Be it in the bedroom or ring, Dick, get's it on!

As I wake from a drunken night of rambunctious fuckery. Crawling out the pile of naked bodies like a sexy zombie raising from the grave and standing above my conquests like I'm on the cover of DOOM. I Dick, home-wrecker, Powers tippy-toe over the naked bodies of men, women and all of that technicolor rainbow in-between making my way to the hall grabbing my finest pastel pink silk kimono which slides onto my herculean bod as if placed over my chiselled muscles by heavenly cherubs. Then make my way down the glorious spiral staircase, my fat horse cock making a thud on each step as I walk down; a bassy thud, as if Viking war drums are announcing my arrival into the foyer! No surprise with the World Serpent swinging between my legs.

As I walk into my very own gym, complete with basketball court, I grab a bottle of water and take a long sip. As the icy water trickles down my swan-like neck, by Adam's apple throbbing I almost choke on the water as I look towards the 8K TV covering the wall. As a major stockholder in XWF, I have it playing in the place I visit the least at all times and to my shock it shows Bobby Bourbon holding the TV Title aloft and a, very well done, graphic of myself and him facing off.

"The shit balls is this?"

I say, to fucking no one.

"Which moron gave that Neanderthal a title? Let alone the Television Championship! Now I have to see him every week!?"

"Every fortnight, Dick."

My manager, Riley Reed (not the pornstar, sick of clarifying) rudely interjects as he exercises on a rowing machine. I double take.

"He's in Fortnite too!? Nah, homie, that was meant to be ME!"

"No, Dick, fortnight as in every two weeks."

"Two weeks? ... Oh right, XWF is lame now. Keep forgetting. Still, why does he have it? And why am I taking it from him?"

Riley wipes sweat from his brow and steps off the rowing machine... Or is it a treadmill? I always get those confused, as well as every piece of exercise equipment. Exercise is a scam, just pay for the body you want. Morons.

"Perhaps you impressed at War Games."

I make a side nod.

"I always impress, Riley, it cums naturally to me. But I'm unsure of becoming Television Champion; there's only so much Dick any mortal can take before it ruins them forever."

Riley moves to close to me and takes one of my water bottles.

"Maybe it's time to start taking this wrestling business seriously, Dick. You certainly have a knack for it and it's clear you enjoy it more than just a hobby."

I place a hand on Riley's shoulder and flinch, removing it from his toad-like skin and wiping it on a nearby towel.

"Riley, you sweet dumb bitch, I'm not a wrestler. I'm just showing the world how easy it is! The fact that people dedicate blood, sweat and tears into this is embarrassing to say the least. Even if I don't win, I make an impact, I make it so people pay attention and absolutely adore what I do. No matter what I make a show, baby. I get the crowd in the palm of my damn hand; if I do this for a living, do you realize how boring my appearances will become? I'd be like every one of those losers on TV. Like Bobby Bourbon whose been going on a downward spiral for years, barely being kept afloat by Thunder Knuckles who is pretty cool, not gonna lie, but this TV run of his is just going to expose that the guy's grasping at the wispy grey pubes of a wrinkled sack. Even Raion Kido who is on fire right now will burn out eventually and become another guy who wrestles every other week screaming about some lame cliché he's tryna promote. Jesus, look at Charlie Nickles for Christ's sake, man started hot and now look at him! He'd be dead if I didn't push him off the track in our match last year and that will forever be my greatest regret."

I move past Riley whilst talking and hop onto the machine that looks like a bicycle, I believe they call it "The non-moving penny-farthing" and sit down cross-legged whilst drinking my water.

"Well, Dick, perhaps you could spice up the game so to speak. Instead of following the same steps these wrestlers have walked before you, you keep things hot and fresh?"

I roll my baby blues.

"Dude, I don't think you understand, I put on 5-star matches every fucking time! But this "job" is so soul-crushing and the fans are so fickle, that when I keep putting on 5-star matches, those shitters will still get bored. Because wrestling sucks and the fans are worse."

I point down to Riley who comes over and moves the pedals for me as I relax on the seat, I adjust my junk so my one-eyed purple people eater doesn't trap him in some Medusa's gaze.

"This is a much more bleak outlook than I'm used to seeing from you Dick."

"Eh." I look out the window for a moment as rain hits the glass. "I suppose since Queen Elizabeth died I'm finding everything pretty macabre."

Riley gives an empathetic smirk as he briefly looks up to me.

"Yes, truly hurt me too."

I clench a mighty fist and sneer.

"I was so close to hitting that! When my husband's out the picture she said! Then fucking covid had to go blue ball me! Now look at her! Dead as fuck! And I'm kinky but I ain't digging her up kinda kinky."

"Dick, show some respect please!"

I'm confused for a moment before remembering.

"Oh yeah, my bad, forgot you where from that dentist free hellhole."

Riley shakes his head, I resist the urge to kick him from this show of disrespect towards me as he is in mourning. I sip my water again looking back at the TV still playing XWF, the stock ticker sliding at the the bottom showing pretty healthy numbers for once.

"Back to Relentless... Whose dumb idea was that? Like 80s, 90s, Noir I get. Decent themes. But they'll basically doing a clusterfuck of dates this time. And an alternate 2015 I guess? Jesus, should have done Cyberpunk, what did I tell them Riley?"

"You told them to do Cybersex."

"Hot ass Cyberpunk!" I say ignoring Riley. "That anime came out on Netflix the SAME DAMN MONTH! We would have made a killing, but NOOOOOOOOOOOO. I'm Atticus and I like Back to the Future! Look at these graphics I made! Totally worked hard and not just stole assets from stock image sites like a hack! Oh, I'm Theo Pryce and Back to the Future is my favorite beep boop bop I'm a dumb robot. Then Vinnie comes in adding nothing like usually and talks about some other shows that no one has heard of... Like Madness, whatever the fuck that is... Losers. Like the movies are cool, don't get me wrong but aren't we gonna get sued just using this stuff? They're not even trying to be discreet!"

"I like it, it's fun."

"Fun, sure! Legal, questionable. I remember watching Back to the Future when it came out... Wait, no I don't! I'm 29! ... Shut up!"

"Dick it's just you and me." Somewhere an XWF Cameraperson sinks lower into a vent. "You don't need to lie about your age."

I sigh.

"I went there on a date, Molly Hendricks. Dynamite bod, fiery red hair, great smile, enormous bazongas. Most popular girl in school, way out of my league, I wasn't always the silver-tongued, gold-plated God who stands before you y'know. Was actually kind of a loser, a lot like you are now, Riley."

"That's comforting to know, Dick."

Kinda added an extra emphasis on Dick there. Hm.

"Things where going great! We laughed, was enjoying the movie, then an idea popped into my head."

Riley stops pedalling for me and looks up.

"Dick, you didn't do something that was acceptable at the time but could now be considered "rapey" did you?"

"Partially, and I regret my actions but not just for what happened next. As it was the 80s an awesome yet looking back a truly terrible era, I decided to do the ol' popcorn trick, as was the style at the time. Hiding my actions with my trapper keeper, I tore a hole in the bottom of the popcorn and placed my still growing member inside. However, I did not realize that this salty, buttered popcorn hid a dastardly trap. A single, miniscule kernel somehow lodged itself in a place I'd rather not say."

"Wait what?"

"Riley, have you ever had to pass a kidney stone?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Dick."

"Imagine using your cock as a vacuum and sucking one back in. As my boner grew, this atom sized thermonuclear bomb travelled down and I jerked up from the pain, spilling the popcorn and revealing myself to Molly as I wretched in pain on the sticky floor. And in a desperate cry I screamed."

I look wistfully at the window as my teenage voice echoes my next words.

"My peepee is on fire."
my peepee is on fire

A single tear rolls down my cheek.

"That day ruined me; any chance of popularity I once could have had was dashed before me. I was an outcast, the kids called me "Kernel Saunders" account of there being a kernel in my cock. I tell you, if I could go back and change that day I would in a heartbeat."

Man I'm good at foreshadowing. Riley stands to his feet and hands me his handkerchief which I refuse as I know where it's been. Then, a lightning bolt strikes my Mjolnir-esque cock! ... I'm on a real Norse kick today, must have been from all the Scandinavians I boned. I stand to my feet remembering War Games! Not the shitty one but the good one, where I was a captain! Where I had a flux capacitor and travelled to Woodstock!

"Riley! We need to go back!"

"Back where, Dick?"

"To 1985 Riley! Something's gotta be done about my sweet meat!"

As the Back to the Future theme plays in my head and now your heads, unless you haven't watched them like a weirdo, we fade to black.


"Hey slackers."

I say, decked out in the finest 80s garbs, looking like I rolled out of Miami Vice. Coked up as they were too. I stand partially out of my DickLoean at an awkward angle because of the stupid doors and adjust myself with some groans to get into a cool pose. As the clouds part exposing the moon, a cummy fog rolls in and makes the night all atmospheric and shit. As atmospheric as an empty parking lot can be anyway.

"Bet you didn't expect this, right? I know! Full of surprises for a pay-per-view called Back to Relentless, but hey! If the higher-ups want to have zero imagination, then I'll play along. Plus, get to fix a fuck-up, so win-win. Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Dick Powers? Why should he get a shot of the TV title!? He isn't even a real wrestler and is barely around!"

"Well to answer that question."

"Where the fuck are the people stepping up to take on Bourbon?"

"You cowards can try and throw shade all you want but the simple explanation is, you're not good enough. I come in, fuck and leave for a month or so and these bitches are still throwing gold my way like they owe me alimony. Now all I gotta do is make Bobby suck on this cock for 15 minutes and leave his mouth like a day-care to get a shiny accessory and a bit more moolah? Too easy, dude! Bourbon sucks now! Dude's been off the rails for months, mother fuckers basically been laying the tracks at his feet and sadly for him, he ain't got no flying McGuffin to save him from the inevitable nose dive off the cliff."

"Fat fuck hasn't been good since he threw away the mask and sulked like a bitch. Curly-haired cum rag hasn't been exciting since he won that crown he's done FUCK ALL with. That sour-faced doughy shitstain couldn't even perform at War Games! Even with all his shit talk, Mongo couldn't eliminate more people than ME! And I'm not a real wrestler! I'm basically an expensive escort Vinnie brings out to make the XWF hotter."

"Oh BuT i'Ve ElImInAtEd LoTs Of PeOpLe BeFoRe"

"Shut up you yeast-infection, no one gives a shit what you've done before. Even if you did act like a beast at War Games. Sorry, I meant bitch."

I high five a spectral, ghostly hand, most likely Bourbon's considering I just fucking murdered him with that one.

"Wrestling fans only care about what you do now and right now all you're doing is fucking up your chances of winning back the tag belts and being yet another mediocre TV Champ. Give me 100% champ, I wanna see the Sultan of Smack Talk and not the Poohbah of Poorly Executed One-Liners, the Regent of Recycled Trash Talk, the whatever the fuck you are now. I don't give a fuck what you do, all I want to do is give these poor people a show they deserve, ONE that you haven't been delivering for months now. I actually want to see you give a shit and not just rely on Thunder Knuckles, bless that poor man, to carry your pimpled ass. Shit, take a look at Kido and how well he's doing, where's your poorly written Power Ranger clones to do shenanigans with? What was there names? Mushmouth and Danger Lass?"

"... I'm thinking of the right guy here, yeah? You had like a super villain team or something? It was terrible but in like a fun way? Like it made you look like a joke, yeah, but it was the best thing you've ever done."

"... Am I thinking of the right guy? Because no way someone who had ALL that would ever fall so hard into being this generic Ghost Tank strong man."

"You know, now that I think about it maybe it wasn't you. Would have had to be someone with charisma and a dash of aspiration. Ah, nevermind then."

"Whatever, back to sex puns."

"It's fitting that we're gonna have it out in the Wild West because I've got a huge Sheriff Woody to stick in your Toy Barn! Get you on all fours as my delicate fingers pull back those tufts of curly locks and establish a new railroad in your gorge; shame you're not wearing the mask anymore, could have made a night out of. Could have brought whips but with the era that may be insensitive to people around, so instead I'll just stick spit and your squeal of pleasure as I treat you like a pitbull rodeo around the town. Speaking of insensitive, Calvary vs Indians? Native Americans guys, c'mon it's 2022... Well, it is right now. Pretty soon I'll be back in 1985 fixing some mistakes, may hang around a little while, pick up some new coke and New Coke. Get it?"

"Oh, and I did find out something interesting about you Bobby, probably the only interesting thing about you at this moment in time. You where born in 1985! What a coincidence!"

"So little ol' me figured to fill two holes with one shocker."

"Not only am I gonna make you my bitch in front of a town of rootin' tootin' cowboys and natives."

"Not only am I going to fuck up your life, Bourbs."

"I'm gonna fuck your Mom."



mother fucker
]]> OOC: There's a few coding errors that I tried to fix but when I did they fucked everything up more, I don't know just deal with it. Sorry. 
Sack to the Future

Be it in the bedroom or ring, Dick, get's it on!

As I wake from a drunken night of rambunctious fuckery. Crawling out the pile of naked bodies like a sexy zombie raising from the grave and standing above my conquests like I'm on the cover of DOOM. I Dick, home-wrecker, Powers tippy-toe over the naked bodies of men, women and all of that technicolor rainbow in-between making my way to the hall grabbing my finest pastel pink silk kimono which slides onto my herculean bod as if placed over my chiselled muscles by heavenly cherubs. Then make my way down the glorious spiral staircase, my fat horse cock making a thud on each step as I walk down; a bassy thud, as if Viking war drums are announcing my arrival into the foyer! No surprise with the World Serpent swinging between my legs.

As I walk into my very own gym, complete with basketball court, I grab a bottle of water and take a long sip. As the icy water trickles down my swan-like neck, by Adam's apple throbbing I almost choke on the water as I look towards the 8K TV covering the wall. As a major stockholder in XWF, I have it playing in the place I visit the least at all times and to my shock it shows Bobby Bourbon holding the TV Title aloft and a, very well done, graphic of myself and him facing off.

"The shit balls is this?"

I say, to fucking no one.

"Which moron gave that Neanderthal a title? Let alone the Television Championship! Now I have to see him every week!?"

"Every fortnight, Dick."

My manager, Riley Reed (not the pornstar, sick of clarifying) rudely interjects as he exercises on a rowing machine. I double take.

"He's in Fortnite too!? Nah, homie, that was meant to be ME!"

"No, Dick, fortnight as in every two weeks."

"Two weeks? ... Oh right, XWF is lame now. Keep forgetting. Still, why does he have it? And why am I taking it from him?"

Riley wipes sweat from his brow and steps off the rowing machine... Or is it a treadmill? I always get those confused, as well as every piece of exercise equipment. Exercise is a scam, just pay for the body you want. Morons.

"Perhaps you impressed at War Games."

I make a side nod.

"I always impress, Riley, it cums naturally to me. But I'm unsure of becoming Television Champion; there's only so much Dick any mortal can take before it ruins them forever."

Riley moves to close to me and takes one of my water bottles.

"Maybe it's time to start taking this wrestling business seriously, Dick. You certainly have a knack for it and it's clear you enjoy it more than just a hobby."

I place a hand on Riley's shoulder and flinch, removing it from his toad-like skin and wiping it on a nearby towel.

"Riley, you sweet dumb bitch, I'm not a wrestler. I'm just showing the world how easy it is! The fact that people dedicate blood, sweat and tears into this is embarrassing to say the least. Even if I don't win, I make an impact, I make it so people pay attention and absolutely adore what I do. No matter what I make a show, baby. I get the crowd in the palm of my damn hand; if I do this for a living, do you realize how boring my appearances will become? I'd be like every one of those losers on TV. Like Bobby Bourbon whose been going on a downward spiral for years, barely being kept afloat by Thunder Knuckles who is pretty cool, not gonna lie, but this TV run of his is just going to expose that the guy's grasping at the wispy grey pubes of a wrinkled sack. Even Raion Kido who is on fire right now will burn out eventually and become another guy who wrestles every other week screaming about some lame cliché he's tryna promote. Jesus, look at Charlie Nickles for Christ's sake, man started hot and now look at him! He'd be dead if I didn't push him off the track in our match last year and that will forever be my greatest regret."

I move past Riley whilst talking and hop onto the machine that looks like a bicycle, I believe they call it "The non-moving penny-farthing" and sit down cross-legged whilst drinking my water.

"Well, Dick, perhaps you could spice up the game so to speak. Instead of following the same steps these wrestlers have walked before you, you keep things hot and fresh?"

I roll my baby blues.

"Dude, I don't think you understand, I put on 5-star matches every fucking time! But this "job" is so soul-crushing and the fans are so fickle, that when I keep putting on 5-star matches, those shitters will still get bored. Because wrestling sucks and the fans are worse."

I point down to Riley who comes over and moves the pedals for me as I relax on the seat, I adjust my junk so my one-eyed purple people eater doesn't trap him in some Medusa's gaze.

"This is a much more bleak outlook than I'm used to seeing from you Dick."

"Eh." I look out the window for a moment as rain hits the glass. "I suppose since Queen Elizabeth died I'm finding everything pretty macabre."

Riley gives an empathetic smirk as he briefly looks up to me.

"Yes, truly hurt me too."

I clench a mighty fist and sneer.

"I was so close to hitting that! When my husband's out the picture she said! Then fucking covid had to go blue ball me! Now look at her! Dead as fuck! And I'm kinky but I ain't digging her up kinda kinky."

"Dick, show some respect please!"

I'm confused for a moment before remembering.

"Oh yeah, my bad, forgot you where from that dentist free hellhole."

Riley shakes his head, I resist the urge to kick him from this show of disrespect towards me as he is in mourning. I sip my water again looking back at the TV still playing XWF, the stock ticker sliding at the the bottom showing pretty healthy numbers for once.

"Back to Relentless... Whose dumb idea was that? Like 80s, 90s, Noir I get. Decent themes. But they'll basically doing a clusterfuck of dates this time. And an alternate 2015 I guess? Jesus, should have done Cyberpunk, what did I tell them Riley?"

"You told them to do Cybersex."

"Hot ass Cyberpunk!" I say ignoring Riley. "That anime came out on Netflix the SAME DAMN MONTH! We would have made a killing, but NOOOOOOOOOOOO. I'm Atticus and I like Back to the Future! Look at these graphics I made! Totally worked hard and not just stole assets from stock image sites like a hack! Oh, I'm Theo Pryce and Back to the Future is my favorite beep boop bop I'm a dumb robot. Then Vinnie comes in adding nothing like usually and talks about some other shows that no one has heard of... Like Madness, whatever the fuck that is... Losers. Like the movies are cool, don't get me wrong but aren't we gonna get sued just using this stuff? They're not even trying to be discreet!"

"I like it, it's fun."

"Fun, sure! Legal, questionable. I remember watching Back to the Future when it came out... Wait, no I don't! I'm 29! ... Shut up!"

"Dick it's just you and me." Somewhere an XWF Cameraperson sinks lower into a vent. "You don't need to lie about your age."

I sigh.

"I went there on a date, Molly Hendricks. Dynamite bod, fiery red hair, great smile, enormous bazongas. Most popular girl in school, way out of my league, I wasn't always the silver-tongued, gold-plated God who stands before you y'know. Was actually kind of a loser, a lot like you are now, Riley."

"That's comforting to know, Dick."

Kinda added an extra emphasis on Dick there. Hm.

"Things where going great! We laughed, was enjoying the movie, then an idea popped into my head."

Riley stops pedalling for me and looks up.

"Dick, you didn't do something that was acceptable at the time but could now be considered "rapey" did you?"

"Partially, and I regret my actions but not just for what happened next. As it was the 80s an awesome yet looking back a truly terrible era, I decided to do the ol' popcorn trick, as was the style at the time. Hiding my actions with my trapper keeper, I tore a hole in the bottom of the popcorn and placed my still growing member inside. However, I did not realize that this salty, buttered popcorn hid a dastardly trap. A single, miniscule kernel somehow lodged itself in a place I'd rather not say."

"Wait what?"

"Riley, have you ever had to pass a kidney stone?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Dick."

"Imagine using your cock as a vacuum and sucking one back in. As my boner grew, this atom sized thermonuclear bomb travelled down and I jerked up from the pain, spilling the popcorn and revealing myself to Molly as I wretched in pain on the sticky floor. And in a desperate cry I screamed."

I look wistfully at the window as my teenage voice echoes my next words.

"My peepee is on fire."
my peepee is on fire

A single tear rolls down my cheek.

"That day ruined me; any chance of popularity I once could have had was dashed before me. I was an outcast, the kids called me "Kernel Saunders" account of there being a kernel in my cock. I tell you, if I could go back and change that day I would in a heartbeat."

Man I'm good at foreshadowing. Riley stands to his feet and hands me his handkerchief which I refuse as I know where it's been. Then, a lightning bolt strikes my Mjolnir-esque cock! ... I'm on a real Norse kick today, must have been from all the Scandinavians I boned. I stand to my feet remembering War Games! Not the shitty one but the good one, where I was a captain! Where I had a flux capacitor and travelled to Woodstock!

"Riley! We need to go back!"

"Back where, Dick?"

"To 1985 Riley! Something's gotta be done about my sweet meat!"

As the Back to the Future theme plays in my head and now your heads, unless you haven't watched them like a weirdo, we fade to black.


"Hey slackers."

I say, decked out in the finest 80s garbs, looking like I rolled out of Miami Vice. Coked up as they were too. I stand partially out of my DickLoean at an awkward angle because of the stupid doors and adjust myself with some groans to get into a cool pose. As the clouds part exposing the moon, a cummy fog rolls in and makes the night all atmospheric and shit. As atmospheric as an empty parking lot can be anyway.

"Bet you didn't expect this, right? I know! Full of surprises for a pay-per-view called Back to Relentless, but hey! If the higher-ups want to have zero imagination, then I'll play along. Plus, get to fix a fuck-up, so win-win. Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Dick Powers? Why should he get a shot of the TV title!? He isn't even a real wrestler and is barely around!"

"Well to answer that question."

"Where the fuck are the people stepping up to take on Bourbon?"

"You cowards can try and throw shade all you want but the simple explanation is, you're not good enough. I come in, fuck and leave for a month or so and these bitches are still throwing gold my way like they owe me alimony. Now all I gotta do is make Bobby suck on this cock for 15 minutes and leave his mouth like a day-care to get a shiny accessory and a bit more moolah? Too easy, dude! Bourbon sucks now! Dude's been off the rails for months, mother fuckers basically been laying the tracks at his feet and sadly for him, he ain't got no flying McGuffin to save him from the inevitable nose dive off the cliff."

"Fat fuck hasn't been good since he threw away the mask and sulked like a bitch. Curly-haired cum rag hasn't been exciting since he won that crown he's done FUCK ALL with. That sour-faced doughy shitstain couldn't even perform at War Games! Even with all his shit talk, Mongo couldn't eliminate more people than ME! And I'm not a real wrestler! I'm basically an expensive escort Vinnie brings out to make the XWF hotter."

"Oh BuT i'Ve ElImInAtEd LoTs Of PeOpLe BeFoRe"

"Shut up you yeast-infection, no one gives a shit what you've done before. Even if you did act like a beast at War Games. Sorry, I meant bitch."

I high five a spectral, ghostly hand, most likely Bourbon's considering I just fucking murdered him with that one.

"Wrestling fans only care about what you do now and right now all you're doing is fucking up your chances of winning back the tag belts and being yet another mediocre TV Champ. Give me 100% champ, I wanna see the Sultan of Smack Talk and not the Poohbah of Poorly Executed One-Liners, the Regent of Recycled Trash Talk, the whatever the fuck you are now. I don't give a fuck what you do, all I want to do is give these poor people a show they deserve, ONE that you haven't been delivering for months now. I actually want to see you give a shit and not just rely on Thunder Knuckles, bless that poor man, to carry your pimpled ass. Shit, take a look at Kido and how well he's doing, where's your poorly written Power Ranger clones to do shenanigans with? What was there names? Mushmouth and Danger Lass?"

"... I'm thinking of the right guy here, yeah? You had like a super villain team or something? It was terrible but in like a fun way? Like it made you look like a joke, yeah, but it was the best thing you've ever done."

"... Am I thinking of the right guy? Because no way someone who had ALL that would ever fall so hard into being this generic Ghost Tank strong man."

"You know, now that I think about it maybe it wasn't you. Would have had to be someone with charisma and a dash of aspiration. Ah, nevermind then."

"Whatever, back to sex puns."

"It's fitting that we're gonna have it out in the Wild West because I've got a huge Sheriff Woody to stick in your Toy Barn! Get you on all fours as my delicate fingers pull back those tufts of curly locks and establish a new railroad in your gorge; shame you're not wearing the mask anymore, could have made a night out of. Could have brought whips but with the era that may be insensitive to people around, so instead I'll just stick spit and your squeal of pleasure as I treat you like a pitbull rodeo around the town. Speaking of insensitive, Calvary vs Indians? Native Americans guys, c'mon it's 2022... Well, it is right now. Pretty soon I'll be back in 1985 fixing some mistakes, may hang around a little while, pick up some new coke and New Coke. Get it?"

"Oh, and I did find out something interesting about you Bobby, probably the only interesting thing about you at this moment in time. You where born in 1985! What a coincidence!"

"So little ol' me figured to fill two holes with one shocker."

"Not only am I gonna make you my bitch in front of a town of rootin' tootin' cowboys and natives."

"Not only am I going to fuck up your life, Bourbs."

"I'm gonna fuck your Mom."



mother fucker
]]> <![CDATA[Heaven's Treasure]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44547 Fri, 16 Sep 2022 17:49:45 -0700 Raion Kido]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44547 It had been a dream match, but also a wake up call. Atara Themis had reminded Raion, in her own way, that not every match, no matter how much he appreciated it, would be met with mutual respect.

“Argh!”

And though he had won, this lesson he would take to heart - for Relentless had come, and Mark Flynn awaited.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

But now the Pryce was Right, and the Lion was caught in the hold of the leader of the Trilogy, under the gaze of Jason Cashe and Ned Kaye. Much as he tried to power out of Pryce’s Arm Trap Crossface, it was no good. The move was very tightly locked in.

“Well Kido, since you were dumb enough to choose a submission match against a submissionist like Flynn despite not being a submission expert, we have to make this a crash course. Now will you give up?”

“Never!”

“Doesn’t matter. Soon you won’t be able to do anything at all.”

Raion keeps up the struggle, but soon his muscles are spent, and become completely frozen and numb, without him being able to get them to respond.

“See, the idea of a submission is to get the foe to give up, but that requires a very real danger on the other side. Now your sense of touch is gone, and you can’t move. What sense do you think you’re going to lose next?”

The Lion attempts a deep breath to summon whatever strength he can muster, only for a choked gasp to exit his nostrils.

“TSK!”

“And now your nose is gone, you’re having trouble breathing. Make another guess. What sense will be the next to go?”

One more time does the Lion try to fight, but this time, the choking is at his throat, and once again he’s barely able to gasp for air.

“Correct. Now you’ve lost your taste. Do you feel like giving up yet?”

A fierce glint of fury emerges from the XWF Universal Champion’s eyes, but soon his eyelids feel heavy, and he begins to doze off…

“There’s your sight gone, Kido. And now, since you can still hear me, allow me to explain.”

Theo Pryce takes a breath without relinquishing the hold, and it’s all Raion can do to listen through ears that very soon become stuffed.

“Some submission moves are targeted at the limbs, but the hardest ones, and the most effective, are those that incapacitate the foe completely. What better way to have them at your utter mercy when the very blood fails to flow, or the very air fails to enter their lungs? This is what’s in store for you against the likes of Mark Flynn…”

With the last of his strength, the Lion listens to Theo’s words before they finally fade.

“... and you’re going to have to find it in you to do something like this on your own.”

Pryce finally releases the hold, and the Japanese wrestler is laid prone on the mat. It is completely uncertain whether he is fully unconscious.

“Is he even alive?”

“Only one way to find out!”

A beaming DioGEE takes out a black Sharpie marker, and, eyes glinting with glee, approaches the fallen Champion…

“Stop that, Cashe! This isn’t Chris Page’s group. We’re not drawing a dick on the Universal Champion’s forehead.”

Somewhat taken aback, Jason Cashe glances at Theo.

“No fun.. Can I draw a cat nose instead?”

“Fair enough.”

The DioGEE draws a cat nose upon the one of the Universal Champion, and turns back to his teammates…

“Uh, Cashe, you forgot to draw the whiskers…”

“Oh shit! I got fuuuuuuuuuuucked up!”

Cashe again goes to Raion Kido…

“WHOA!”

… But the Lion has awoken! He catches the DioGEE in a roll-up onto his belly, traps his arms behind his back in a double underhook, and surges forward in a bridging position - holding Cashe in a chin lock!

“Holy shit, Kido!”

“RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH…!”

“Kido? KIDO! Break that up before you kill Cashe!”

… Raion breaks the hold, and rises to his feet, the effects of Theo’s earlier move still wearing off him. But the Cornerstone of the XWF finally nods in satisfaction.

“Well, I have to admit - that looked like a killer! How did you come up with that?”

When Raion speaks again, he’s smiling like the boy that lies behind the Lion.

“When you had me in your move, and when I heard your explanation, I recalled something from Saint Seiya. A technique that deprived the foe of their senses, and left them as a living corpse, fit only to send to the afterlife. The ultimate form of attack and defense.”

The XWF Universal Champion’s smile widens, but this time, the grin comes not from a boy - but from the very Lion himself.

“And it seems the time is just right for Mark Flynn to taste… the Treasure of Heaven.”

The Lion looks at the rest of the Trilogy, and gives a mischievous wink…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Before I won the Leap of Faith match, it was said I was the Cho-KING of the XWF.”

The sun reaches its zenith over an Asian-style built tower in the wilderness, overlooking a tranquil water pond. A place of relaxation, but also of learning - the Huntington Botanical Gardens, in the City of Angels. And it is from here that the Lion begins his speech, sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, with his eyes closed.

“Before I won the Universal Title, it was said that I would be the weakest Champion ever. After War Games was over, it was also said I was an unpolished Champion, and there were those who said I would be a flash in the pan.”

Now we are at Relentless, the XWF’s flagship three-day Pay-Per-View, and not only am I still the defending Universal Champion, but I have also been undefeated since War Games, which makes this close to two months.

And when the time came for me to defend, one among those nay-sayers was the first one to fall.

So at this point, I wonder what anyone shall have to say now. Especially Mark Flynn - one of the very people that I defeated before all this even happened.

But I’ll give you enough courtesy to hear you out - after all, at least you and I were the biggest winners of Chris Page’s Cannabis Cup, we’ve both beaten Micheal Graves, and in the end, this match was inevitable.”

Slowly, but steadily, the Lion opens his eyes, and rises to his feet. Once he resumes his talk, the force of his voice echoes through the wilderness as a message from the Heavens.

As the sun in the sky, and the Gold Cloth that the Lion wears, gleaming splendidly in the sunlight, it was now time for the cosmos to burn.


“So let’s hear it, Flynn. Want to call me the John Starks of the XWF again? Will you scrape the bottom of the statistics barrel like you were Biff Tannen holding the Almanac? Will you shine yourself up speaking about how dominant you have been like it somehow mattered?

Let’s hear about how you were the greatest thing ten years ago. ALIAS said much the same. How did that work out for him? The most dominant Universal Champion the XWF has seen, beaten by RAION KIDO.

Tell me then, Flynn, what happens now. Tell me again how I choked after knowing that you never were Television Champion, or King of the XWF. Tell me again how I choked after you too lost a match with Charlie Nickles in it, and this was just last Warfare. And tell me again how I choked after knowing you never won War Games. Tell me that, Flynn, and see how meager it sounds in comparison to everything else I have achieved!”

Raion lets out his mighty roar. Every single time he had the chance would Mark Flynn speak about the Cho-KING of the XWF, and point out his every failure. Perhaps once he had a cause to be silent, in order to prove himself.

But after the Cannabis Cup, he had a motive to speak. And after his first defense?

It was time for the Lion to render Mark Flynn silent.

“But see, Mr. Sports Pundit, I too can play this game. As far as I have it, you held gold in 2012, and ten years later you came to hold it again. Since you chose basketball for your reference, you know who else did that? John Salley. Part of the Bad Boys Detroit Pistons, that served as the temporary barrier that Michael Jordan overcame to become the ultimate basketball icon.

What they don’t really say is that, just like you, John Salley was just another teammate in teams where the true stars came to shine. Much like Isiah Thomas in the Bad Boys, Kobe and Shaq in the Lakers… and the very own partner against which you turned.

And nobody would remember John Salley, if it weren’t because Michael Jordan beat the Bad Boys.”

The XWF Universal Champion grins slightly as he lets the silence carry his last statement. Far be it from him to compare himself to one of the greatest athletes of all time, but if Mark Flynn went as far as to call himself the best wrestler in the world, why could he not make a sports reference of his own?

“Maybe the point is clear, but it doesn’t matter. Since I know you’re just raring to talk about War Games, I’ll be the first one to say it was the North Korean War Criminal that pinned me. And all the while, the name of Mark Flynn was nowhere to be found.

I recall you saying at the time of Leap of Faith that both you and him would take part in the match, and at the time, I said you should have, because I’d make sure to destroy you both.

And right now at Relentless, I say you shouldn’t have taken him out. This should have been a handicap match - for that was the only chance either of you might have had against Raion Kido!”

This time, Raion points towards the camera, letting out another savage roar that echoes throughout the Botanical Gardens. He had considered the possibility of that at Leap of Faith.

And he had pictured that again before Mark Flynn had turned on his partner, and threw the tag team titles away.

If the prospect of facing the XWF Tag Team Champions by himself did not give him pause, would Mark Flynn alone?

“So answer me, Flynn, what exactly should I fear? You beating three inductions to the Hall of Legends? I beat one right after my debut! People in the top 50 rank? I’ve beaten five of them, and among those names is yours! And if you want to tell me how you beat Charlie Nickles more than I did, at least when I beat him, it was in a match where the Universal Title was at stake. There you have him, half-gone, the other half still fighting with the Brotherhood of Bastards… and winning at that. You know, much like I won after having lost to him, so maybe you should stow that finger somewhere before you point it at me.

But there’s something else that I’ve picked up, Flynn. Even in a team, you couldn’t pull your weight. You might have been one half of arguably the best XWF Tag Team in history, but now we see what truly happens when the North Korean War Criminal isn’t there to cover your sorry backside. At least I carried the Meat Clowns to the very end of War Games, and I was the last man standing. You couldn’t even rescue your own partners before Thunder Knuckles took you out!

And that is why, Flynn, you’ve made the greatest mistake of all: you threw away your partner and the XWF Tag Team Titles just so you could be the one to challenge me, all on account of your own wounded, fragile ego. That’s what lies behind it all - Mark Flynn can’t stand not being in the spotlight, he resents being King of the Midcarders, and will stop at nothing to get the spotlight he craves. You’ve thrown your reign away just so you, and only you, could have a shot at the Universal Title. Spit all the statistics you like about your supposed dominance, at least I did not need to trade in the Leap of Faith briefcase over which I’ve beaten you and four others!”

The facts spoke for themselves. Unlike Mark Flynn, Raion Kido hadn’t stepped over anyone’s toes to get to this point - live or die, he did so by himself, under his own power, and fairly at that.

And in his own mind, the Lion had gone against Charlie Nickles to avenge Betsy Granger, and against ALIAS to avenge Atara Themis.

Maybe it was time, inside the Lion’s own thoughts, for him to avenge Flynn’s partner.

“But here comes the interesting part, Mr. King of the Midcarders. You may gladly embrace that title, but I don’t settle for the comfort of the midcard. My entire career has been to seek the match of the night - even from the undercard against Xavier Lux or Lexi Gold, or even when the Main Event was right above me, as with Centurion or Atara Themis. Whether at the bottom or at the top, it’s my duty to have the people talk about the matches where Raion Kido took part as the very Main Event! And I do that, Flynn, because I always seek the highest challenge - the greater the odds, the greater the victory, and the sweeter the prize. Which leads me, of course, to the stipulations for this match.

Because this Ultimate Submission Match, Mr. Greco-Roman, is your game, your bread and butter, but it is the match I sought. The Dark Warrior begged me to get Xtreme and I gave him something beyond his wildest expectations in a Last Man Standing match, and now I’m extending the same courtesy to you, and putting myself in the greatest challenge. For this time, there won’t be a Lightning Bolt stopping your heart cold, or a Lightning Plasma reducing you to a quivering mess.

This time, there shall only be the ultimate test of endurance - how much time it shall take you to submit, or collapse under the pressure of the world coming down upon you. Because that it’s exactly what’s going to happen, Flynn. I’m bringing to you Heaven’s Treasure - the ultimate form of attack and defense.”

The Osaka wrestler clenches his fist as he peels back his lips. He had chosen this challenge, and at Relentless, he would prove that he could play, and win, at odds that did not favor him.

“And I promise you this. You may avoid eye contact before a match, but when that train goes down the tracks at the Main Event of Relentless Night Three, I’m going to look at you square in the eyes, and then I shall proceed to dismantle you - to deprive you of every sense. Touch so you can’t move, smell so you can’t breathe, taste so you can’t so much as choke when you try to scream in pain. Soon sight shall begin to fade as you struggle to keep awake, and the final thing gone shall be your hearing - ultimate oblivion.

Unless, of course, you decide to give up. Which shouldn’t be a problem, after you’ve done so with your partner and the titles.

Ten years, Mark Flynn. Ten years of languishing in a mediocrity of your own choosing. Ten years of being the King of the Midcarders, but you made it to the best XWF Tag Team Champions of all time. And now you’ve burned it all away, just to be in the Main Event of the XWF’s flagship three-night show.

Now you’ve chosen to throw your legacy away in order to face a guy that did in one year what you didn’t do in ten, and once you and I are done, maybe you’ll think back on the time you told Charlie Nickles that he dropped his title, his claim to fame and his entire legacy… only to walk away a loser.

Defeated by RAION KIDO!”

A third roar, the loudest of all, even making the blades of grass around him tremble. Flynn had done that when he mentioned the Lion’s name to Charlie Nickles - and now this slight would be visited upon him ten-fold.

“Make no mistake, Flynn. That’s exactly what’s going to happen. I come into this match with a legacy already cemented. I’ve done nothing but prove myself despite those times you’ll most certainly want to point out, and I’ve achieved a victory worth infinitely more than all of them put together. Now? It’s laying bricks on top of bricks to expand the house the Lion has built.

No longer am I a flash in the pan, a choke artist, or unpolished. All the names that dared to say that have fallen to the Lion’s fangs, and all that remains is you. And at Relentless, the Lion comes to defend his title at your own game, in your own element, for the ultimate challenge. The XWF Universe has heard me talk of the power of the cosmos, and come to see it for themselves.

But now? They’re going to see what happens when the odds are the greatest. They’re going to see just how greatly the stars themselves may burst. At XWF Relentless, the greatest extravaganza of the year… they’re going to experience the glory of Heaven’s Treasure.

Make your final peace, Flynn, and apologize to the North Korean War Criminal…”

The XWF Universal Champion clenches his fist once more, and extends it towards the camera in a swift, decisive motion.

“... once Heaven’s Treasure has taken your senses away.”

Fade to black.

3000 words (wordcounter.net)]]> It had been a dream match, but also a wake up call. Atara Themis had reminded Raion, in her own way, that not every match, no matter how much he appreciated it, would be met with mutual respect.

“Argh!”

And though he had won, this lesson he would take to heart - for Relentless had come, and Mark Flynn awaited.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

But now the Pryce was Right, and the Lion was caught in the hold of the leader of the Trilogy, under the gaze of Jason Cashe and Ned Kaye. Much as he tried to power out of Pryce’s Arm Trap Crossface, it was no good. The move was very tightly locked in.

“Well Kido, since you were dumb enough to choose a submission match against a submissionist like Flynn despite not being a submission expert, we have to make this a crash course. Now will you give up?”

“Never!”

“Doesn’t matter. Soon you won’t be able to do anything at all.”

Raion keeps up the struggle, but soon his muscles are spent, and become completely frozen and numb, without him being able to get them to respond.

“See, the idea of a submission is to get the foe to give up, but that requires a very real danger on the other side. Now your sense of touch is gone, and you can’t move. What sense do you think you’re going to lose next?”

The Lion attempts a deep breath to summon whatever strength he can muster, only for a choked gasp to exit his nostrils.

“TSK!”

“And now your nose is gone, you’re having trouble breathing. Make another guess. What sense will be the next to go?”

One more time does the Lion try to fight, but this time, the choking is at his throat, and once again he’s barely able to gasp for air.

“Correct. Now you’ve lost your taste. Do you feel like giving up yet?”

A fierce glint of fury emerges from the XWF Universal Champion’s eyes, but soon his eyelids feel heavy, and he begins to doze off…

“There’s your sight gone, Kido. And now, since you can still hear me, allow me to explain.”

Theo Pryce takes a breath without relinquishing the hold, and it’s all Raion can do to listen through ears that very soon become stuffed.

“Some submission moves are targeted at the limbs, but the hardest ones, and the most effective, are those that incapacitate the foe completely. What better way to have them at your utter mercy when the very blood fails to flow, or the very air fails to enter their lungs? This is what’s in store for you against the likes of Mark Flynn…”

With the last of his strength, the Lion listens to Theo’s words before they finally fade.

“... and you’re going to have to find it in you to do something like this on your own.”

Pryce finally releases the hold, and the Japanese wrestler is laid prone on the mat. It is completely uncertain whether he is fully unconscious.

“Is he even alive?”

“Only one way to find out!”

A beaming DioGEE takes out a black Sharpie marker, and, eyes glinting with glee, approaches the fallen Champion…

“Stop that, Cashe! This isn’t Chris Page’s group. We’re not drawing a dick on the Universal Champion’s forehead.”

Somewhat taken aback, Jason Cashe glances at Theo.

“No fun.. Can I draw a cat nose instead?”

“Fair enough.”

The DioGEE draws a cat nose upon the one of the Universal Champion, and turns back to his teammates…

“Uh, Cashe, you forgot to draw the whiskers…”

“Oh shit! I got fuuuuuuuuuuucked up!”

Cashe again goes to Raion Kido…

“WHOA!”

… But the Lion has awoken! He catches the DioGEE in a roll-up onto his belly, traps his arms behind his back in a double underhook, and surges forward in a bridging position - holding Cashe in a chin lock!

“Holy shit, Kido!”

“RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH…!”

“Kido? KIDO! Break that up before you kill Cashe!”

… Raion breaks the hold, and rises to his feet, the effects of Theo’s earlier move still wearing off him. But the Cornerstone of the XWF finally nods in satisfaction.

“Well, I have to admit - that looked like a killer! How did you come up with that?”

When Raion speaks again, he’s smiling like the boy that lies behind the Lion.

“When you had me in your move, and when I heard your explanation, I recalled something from Saint Seiya. A technique that deprived the foe of their senses, and left them as a living corpse, fit only to send to the afterlife. The ultimate form of attack and defense.”

The XWF Universal Champion’s smile widens, but this time, the grin comes not from a boy - but from the very Lion himself.

“And it seems the time is just right for Mark Flynn to taste… the Treasure of Heaven.”

The Lion looks at the rest of the Trilogy, and gives a mischievous wink…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Before I won the Leap of Faith match, it was said I was the Cho-KING of the XWF.”

The sun reaches its zenith over an Asian-style built tower in the wilderness, overlooking a tranquil water pond. A place of relaxation, but also of learning - the Huntington Botanical Gardens, in the City of Angels. And it is from here that the Lion begins his speech, sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, with his eyes closed.

“Before I won the Universal Title, it was said that I would be the weakest Champion ever. After War Games was over, it was also said I was an unpolished Champion, and there were those who said I would be a flash in the pan.”

Now we are at Relentless, the XWF’s flagship three-day Pay-Per-View, and not only am I still the defending Universal Champion, but I have also been undefeated since War Games, which makes this close to two months.

And when the time came for me to defend, one among those nay-sayers was the first one to fall.

So at this point, I wonder what anyone shall have to say now. Especially Mark Flynn - one of the very people that I defeated before all this even happened.

But I’ll give you enough courtesy to hear you out - after all, at least you and I were the biggest winners of Chris Page’s Cannabis Cup, we’ve both beaten Micheal Graves, and in the end, this match was inevitable.”

Slowly, but steadily, the Lion opens his eyes, and rises to his feet. Once he resumes his talk, the force of his voice echoes through the wilderness as a message from the Heavens.

As the sun in the sky, and the Gold Cloth that the Lion wears, gleaming splendidly in the sunlight, it was now time for the cosmos to burn.


“So let’s hear it, Flynn. Want to call me the John Starks of the XWF again? Will you scrape the bottom of the statistics barrel like you were Biff Tannen holding the Almanac? Will you shine yourself up speaking about how dominant you have been like it somehow mattered?

Let’s hear about how you were the greatest thing ten years ago. ALIAS said much the same. How did that work out for him? The most dominant Universal Champion the XWF has seen, beaten by RAION KIDO.

Tell me then, Flynn, what happens now. Tell me again how I choked after knowing that you never were Television Champion, or King of the XWF. Tell me again how I choked after you too lost a match with Charlie Nickles in it, and this was just last Warfare. And tell me again how I choked after knowing you never won War Games. Tell me that, Flynn, and see how meager it sounds in comparison to everything else I have achieved!”

Raion lets out his mighty roar. Every single time he had the chance would Mark Flynn speak about the Cho-KING of the XWF, and point out his every failure. Perhaps once he had a cause to be silent, in order to prove himself.

But after the Cannabis Cup, he had a motive to speak. And after his first defense?

It was time for the Lion to render Mark Flynn silent.

“But see, Mr. Sports Pundit, I too can play this game. As far as I have it, you held gold in 2012, and ten years later you came to hold it again. Since you chose basketball for your reference, you know who else did that? John Salley. Part of the Bad Boys Detroit Pistons, that served as the temporary barrier that Michael Jordan overcame to become the ultimate basketball icon.

What they don’t really say is that, just like you, John Salley was just another teammate in teams where the true stars came to shine. Much like Isiah Thomas in the Bad Boys, Kobe and Shaq in the Lakers… and the very own partner against which you turned.

And nobody would remember John Salley, if it weren’t because Michael Jordan beat the Bad Boys.”

The XWF Universal Champion grins slightly as he lets the silence carry his last statement. Far be it from him to compare himself to one of the greatest athletes of all time, but if Mark Flynn went as far as to call himself the best wrestler in the world, why could he not make a sports reference of his own?

“Maybe the point is clear, but it doesn’t matter. Since I know you’re just raring to talk about War Games, I’ll be the first one to say it was the North Korean War Criminal that pinned me. And all the while, the name of Mark Flynn was nowhere to be found.

I recall you saying at the time of Leap of Faith that both you and him would take part in the match, and at the time, I said you should have, because I’d make sure to destroy you both.

And right now at Relentless, I say you shouldn’t have taken him out. This should have been a handicap match - for that was the only chance either of you might have had against Raion Kido!”

This time, Raion points towards the camera, letting out another savage roar that echoes throughout the Botanical Gardens. He had considered the possibility of that at Leap of Faith.

And he had pictured that again before Mark Flynn had turned on his partner, and threw the tag team titles away.

If the prospect of facing the XWF Tag Team Champions by himself did not give him pause, would Mark Flynn alone?

“So answer me, Flynn, what exactly should I fear? You beating three inductions to the Hall of Legends? I beat one right after my debut! People in the top 50 rank? I’ve beaten five of them, and among those names is yours! And if you want to tell me how you beat Charlie Nickles more than I did, at least when I beat him, it was in a match where the Universal Title was at stake. There you have him, half-gone, the other half still fighting with the Brotherhood of Bastards… and winning at that. You know, much like I won after having lost to him, so maybe you should stow that finger somewhere before you point it at me.

But there’s something else that I’ve picked up, Flynn. Even in a team, you couldn’t pull your weight. You might have been one half of arguably the best XWF Tag Team in history, but now we see what truly happens when the North Korean War Criminal isn’t there to cover your sorry backside. At least I carried the Meat Clowns to the very end of War Games, and I was the last man standing. You couldn’t even rescue your own partners before Thunder Knuckles took you out!

And that is why, Flynn, you’ve made the greatest mistake of all: you threw away your partner and the XWF Tag Team Titles just so you could be the one to challenge me, all on account of your own wounded, fragile ego. That’s what lies behind it all - Mark Flynn can’t stand not being in the spotlight, he resents being King of the Midcarders, and will stop at nothing to get the spotlight he craves. You’ve thrown your reign away just so you, and only you, could have a shot at the Universal Title. Spit all the statistics you like about your supposed dominance, at least I did not need to trade in the Leap of Faith briefcase over which I’ve beaten you and four others!”

The facts spoke for themselves. Unlike Mark Flynn, Raion Kido hadn’t stepped over anyone’s toes to get to this point - live or die, he did so by himself, under his own power, and fairly at that.

And in his own mind, the Lion had gone against Charlie Nickles to avenge Betsy Granger, and against ALIAS to avenge Atara Themis.

Maybe it was time, inside the Lion’s own thoughts, for him to avenge Flynn’s partner.

“But here comes the interesting part, Mr. King of the Midcarders. You may gladly embrace that title, but I don’t settle for the comfort of the midcard. My entire career has been to seek the match of the night - even from the undercard against Xavier Lux or Lexi Gold, or even when the Main Event was right above me, as with Centurion or Atara Themis. Whether at the bottom or at the top, it’s my duty to have the people talk about the matches where Raion Kido took part as the very Main Event! And I do that, Flynn, because I always seek the highest challenge - the greater the odds, the greater the victory, and the sweeter the prize. Which leads me, of course, to the stipulations for this match.

Because this Ultimate Submission Match, Mr. Greco-Roman, is your game, your bread and butter, but it is the match I sought. The Dark Warrior begged me to get Xtreme and I gave him something beyond his wildest expectations in a Last Man Standing match, and now I’m extending the same courtesy to you, and putting myself in the greatest challenge. For this time, there won’t be a Lightning Bolt stopping your heart cold, or a Lightning Plasma reducing you to a quivering mess.

This time, there shall only be the ultimate test of endurance - how much time it shall take you to submit, or collapse under the pressure of the world coming down upon you. Because that it’s exactly what’s going to happen, Flynn. I’m bringing to you Heaven’s Treasure - the ultimate form of attack and defense.”

The Osaka wrestler clenches his fist as he peels back his lips. He had chosen this challenge, and at Relentless, he would prove that he could play, and win, at odds that did not favor him.

“And I promise you this. You may avoid eye contact before a match, but when that train goes down the tracks at the Main Event of Relentless Night Three, I’m going to look at you square in the eyes, and then I shall proceed to dismantle you - to deprive you of every sense. Touch so you can’t move, smell so you can’t breathe, taste so you can’t so much as choke when you try to scream in pain. Soon sight shall begin to fade as you struggle to keep awake, and the final thing gone shall be your hearing - ultimate oblivion.

Unless, of course, you decide to give up. Which shouldn’t be a problem, after you’ve done so with your partner and the titles.

Ten years, Mark Flynn. Ten years of languishing in a mediocrity of your own choosing. Ten years of being the King of the Midcarders, but you made it to the best XWF Tag Team Champions of all time. And now you’ve burned it all away, just to be in the Main Event of the XWF’s flagship three-night show.

Now you’ve chosen to throw your legacy away in order to face a guy that did in one year what you didn’t do in ten, and once you and I are done, maybe you’ll think back on the time you told Charlie Nickles that he dropped his title, his claim to fame and his entire legacy… only to walk away a loser.

Defeated by RAION KIDO!”

A third roar, the loudest of all, even making the blades of grass around him tremble. Flynn had done that when he mentioned the Lion’s name to Charlie Nickles - and now this slight would be visited upon him ten-fold.

“Make no mistake, Flynn. That’s exactly what’s going to happen. I come into this match with a legacy already cemented. I’ve done nothing but prove myself despite those times you’ll most certainly want to point out, and I’ve achieved a victory worth infinitely more than all of them put together. Now? It’s laying bricks on top of bricks to expand the house the Lion has built.

No longer am I a flash in the pan, a choke artist, or unpolished. All the names that dared to say that have fallen to the Lion’s fangs, and all that remains is you. And at Relentless, the Lion comes to defend his title at your own game, in your own element, for the ultimate challenge. The XWF Universe has heard me talk of the power of the cosmos, and come to see it for themselves.

But now? They’re going to see what happens when the odds are the greatest. They’re going to see just how greatly the stars themselves may burst. At XWF Relentless, the greatest extravaganza of the year… they’re going to experience the glory of Heaven’s Treasure.

Make your final peace, Flynn, and apologize to the North Korean War Criminal…”

The XWF Universal Champion clenches his fist once more, and extends it towards the camera in a swift, decisive motion.

“... once Heaven’s Treasure has taken your senses away.”

Fade to black.

3000 words (wordcounter.net)]]> <![CDATA[BUSTER GLOVES - THE APPETIZER]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44526 Wed, 14 Sep 2022 20:01:51 -0700 Buster Gloves]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=44526 [Image: highlight-video-b.png]
THE APPETIZER
OFF CAM
 
“I’m gonna wrestle for another company.” Says the dad-bro sitting in a booth inside a Florida Applebee’s. He takes a bite of his boneless buffalo wing while the two teenage boys in front of him digest what he just said. Some people say you shouldn’t eat boneless buffalo wings with a fork, that it takes away from the experience. But the truth is that the quality of a boneless buffalo wing is determined by the sauce, not by the delivery system.
 
“Did you get fired?” Asks one kid.
 
“Did you say the r-word? Says the awkward tween in the booth.
 
“What?! No. God no. Not since I saw Carlos Mencia at the DC Improv. Anyway, I went to the money guys at Level Up and asked to restructure my deal.”
 
“You quit?”
 
“No, I didn’t quit. I’m still gonna work there. But now I also get to work for other feds. I negotiated it as part of my contract extension. It’s more respectful.”
 
“Sounds like quitting with extra steps.”
 
Buster has to pause for a moment. His children are becoming too powerful. A combination of dank memes and TikTok challenges have turned them into hardened trolls. He may have to release them into the sewers before they deadname the family dog.
 
“Look. I’m not quitting Level Up. I’m just not going to be an exclusive Level Up guy anymore.”
 
“What does that mean?” Says one brother.
 
“It means he’s cheating on his employer.” Says the other brother.
 
The 35-year father of two takes an angry bite of another boneless wing. The crispy breaded pieces of tender boneless chicken are tossed in one of several wing sauces. There is, of course, the classic buffalo flavor, but it’s only a gateway flavor to adult palettes. The Extra Hot Buffalo is a fuller flavor experience, but still lacks the kick of its moniker. When unsure which flavor of boneless wings to enjoy, honey BBQ is a tried-and-true method. Sweet and spicy. Savory and delicious. It’s available as part of the Applebee’s classic combo or standalone in a plentiful dish of poultry perfection.
 
“I’m not cheating! I was their champion for a while. And I never once wrestled for anyone else while I retained that belt. I promised to represent the company for as long as I was their champion. And now that I’m not, I’m free to seek opportunities elsewhere. I know I’m kind of an asshole, but I’m not a dickhead.”

“So where are you wrestling now?” says the younger brother.
 
“Well, aside from the appearances at Level Up, I’m going to be working for XWF. It’s kind of a pay-per-performance deal, but the amount of exposure I’ll get is a big deal.”
“Are you in their main event?” says the older brother.
 
“Main event?! Dalton, are you on the reefer? Do you guys even watch my matches?”
 
“I would if they were on YouTube.” Says Swayze.
 
“You’re killing me, Smalls… The answer to your question is NO. I’m not in the main event. I’m what you call ‘Mid-Card Talent. You guys understand what that means?”
 
“I think we can figure that one out.”
 
“When do you wrestle?”
 
“I’m appearing on XWF’s next pay-per-view. They have me slotted as the first match on the third card. It’s kind of a crappy booking, but I’m staying optimistic about it. It’s a great chance to get the crowd going on the final night of the 3-day event.
 
Both of the children have a good laugh. Since 1980, millions of families, just like this, have share happy moments, just like this. Originally started as a small single location in Atlanta Georgia, Applebee’s was the passion project of culinary wizards Bill and TJ Palmer. A lot has changed since then, with almost 2,000 locations in the U.S. and around the world, Applebee’s has brought the family back to the dinner table. Inside their walls, you will always be their guest for delicious food, in a neighborhood setting, with attentive service, at a great value.
 
“What happened? I thought you were elite, Dad. I thought you won all your matches.” Says the older brother.
 
“No. I WAS winning all my matches. I haven’t won anything in like 2 months. You guys need to cut me some slack. You know this job is really hard, right? The other guys are actually trying to beat me.”
 
“To be honest, I have no idea what the rules are.” Says the younger brother while keeping his eyes locked on the succulent appetizer sampler. As soon as his father stops stress eating and relinquishes the dish, he’ll shoot for the quesadilla. Or maybe the fried cheese stick.
 
“Can we get back on topic, please? What I’m telling you is that I’m kind of over Level Up. I appreciate all that they did for me, giving me my first big contract. But I’ve hit the ceiling over there. I’ve outgrown the place.”
 
“K.” Says the older brother Dalton.
 
“So, you hate working there?” Says the younger brother Swayze.
 
“Well, no. It’s kind of the opposite. It’s hard to explain. Management hasn’t really been taking my calls lately. It might just be a case of ‘If they were upset with me, I’d know it’, but it low-key feels like they hate me. Like I’m not part of the inner circle anymore now that I’m not a champion. I’m not even upset about it. If I were them, I’d hate dealing with me. I overstep. I can’t stay in my lane. It’s unreasonable to expect your employer to sing you to sleep every night.”
 
“So, you’re leaving because they don’t give you enough attention?”
 
“When you put it that way, it sounds like a really pathetic excuse for distancing myself. But for the last few months, I get sick every time I leave you guys here, in Florida, while I get on an uncomfortable airplane, and I fly to some random city in the Midwest. I freaking hate flying.
 
The original Atlanta location of Applebee’s was established in 1980 under the name T.J. Applebee’s Edibles and Elixirs. It was labelled as a casual family diner, open and affordable to the public, but urban legends and conspiracy theories claim a darker secret is held within its walls. A number of unconfirmed stories have stated that the establishment has, at times, been tied to the Illuminati, underground fight clubs, Essential Oils pyramid schemes, and Satan worshipping pizza parties. Curiously enough, during its 42-year history, over 60 people have died just at this one location. And to this day, they continue offering an authentic American dining experience, featuring bottomless refills and all-you-can-eat boneless buffalo wings for just $12.99 (plus tax and tip).
 
“Why do you hate flying? Are you afraid of heights?” Asks Swayze.
 
“Show me on the doll where the airplane touched you.” Suggests Dalton.
 
Buster burps cherry cola.
 
“Airplanes, even the dope ones from Kayfabe Airlines, are just awful. Yes, I am a bit afraid of heights, but that’s not what I hate about flying. It’s being forced to sit with random people. I’m a big guy. It’s always uncomfortable. They always sit me between a Chatting Kathy and a guy wearing Chicken Tikka Masala.
 
“I bet you’d like them more if they had hookers and blackjack.”
 
Buster has a couple long blinks and a deep breath as Jesus takes the wheel.
 
Dalton continues. “So anyway, you’re a quitter now? Are we just allowed to quit stuff when it starts to suck?”
 
“Dally, I just can’t do it. I can’t be married to that place anymore. I need to spread my wings. I need to meet some new people in this industry. I’m tired of people thinking I’m a joke.”
 
Swayze pulls the classic combo of Applebee’s delicious appetizers directly in front of him. Shielding it from the dad-tears. He scarfs the mozzarella sticks and patronizes his father. “It’s ok, Dad. You shouldn’t work a bad job if you don’t like it.”
 
“It’s not even like that. It’s a great company, but something there hasn’t been right for a little while. I can’t put my finger on it. The timing has been wrong. I made some mistakes. My head is all screwed up. I’m talking to my AA sponsor about working through some of those issues.”
 
Through melty fried cheese and savory marinara, Swayze opines. “Just sounds like you’re giving up too easily.”
 
“Ok, let me put it this way. You probably have a girl in school that you like. She’s pretty. Nice hair. Lots of followers. She even likes Video Games.”
 
Both boys speak in unison. “Becky Berkhart.”
 
“Sure. Becky Berkhart.  So, let’s say you start dating Becky.”
 
“Me maybe. Not Humperfart over here.” Says Dalton as Swayze glared back with the fire of a thousand suns.
 
“Can you guys, just… not, for a minute?”
 
Tense…silence…
 
“So, you’re dating Becky Berkhart. And it’s great at first. All your friends are impressed because you landed one of the hottest chicks in your grade.”
 
“You can’t say chicks.” Says Swayze.
 
“Fuck off! I can’t?” Buster says.
 
“No. It’s offensive.”
 
“Well, what am I supposed to call them?”
 
“Nothing. You can’t say anything anymore.”
 
“What do you say to girls?”
 
“Nothing. We’re terrified of them.”
 
“That… that’s fair. Ok, so let’s enter the magical land of unicorns and non-threatening boy-girl interactions, where you and your girlfriend, Becky Berkhart, are going steady. You’re hanging out. You’re kissing under the bleachers. And one day you find out that she’s giving squeezers to the entire soccer team under the bleachers. Not only that. But she’s also saying some unflattering things about you. To be fair to her, most of what she’s saying is true, but it still hurts. You know what I mean?”
 
In unison. “No.”
 
“God. You two are giving me a mild stroke. If your girlfriend was shitty to you, would you continue dating her?”
 
“I don’t know.” Says Dalton.
 
“He’d stay with her because he likes her boobs.”
 
“I feel you there, bro. But let’s not forget that Becky Berkhart is a dirty cheater.”
 
This gathers the unwanted attention of other guests who may be related to dirty cheater Becky Berkhart or may just be the nosy neighbors in the hood. If only these kitschy walls could talk, what stories, what curiosities, what horrors would they speak of. The depths of the human experience drip from layers of regional flair.
 
“So, here’s the deal, you break up with Becky Berkhart, but you do it on good terms. You keep her number in your phone and you wait for that booty call. You hang out in the glass case and one day soon, after a bottle of Moscato and a Bridget Jones movie, she calls you up, she cheats on her new boyfriend, and she goes all the way with you. You’ve already put up with her bullshit for a year, if you just keep your mouth shut, she’ll eventually give you that sympathy lay. Does that make any sense.”
 
“You realize I’m only 15 years old? And he’s 13. He probably doesn’t even understand half the stuff you just said.” Admits Dalton.
 
“No, no. I follow. Go on.” Speaks Swayze.
 
“Well, that, my friends, is what it’s like to have a job that you don’t enjoy. I called my boss at Level Up and we negotiated a new contract that allows me to work anywhere I want while still being booked over there. I can’t promise you I’m gonna win a lot of matches in the next year, but I’m gonna fight my ass off. I’m gonna be everywhere and people are gonna be sick of hearing my name.”
 
“Dad, can we order our own food now?”
 
“Not yet, Son. Half priced apps don’t start at Applebee’s until 9pm.”
 
Eat good in your neighborhood my friends. For the night is long and full of terrors.




ON-CAM
 
I’ve never really stopped to consider my own identity. What I am. What I represent. It’s not like anyone would actually care if I did.  
 
Sure, I’ve been a lot of different things over the years, a soldier, a fighter, a husband, a father. Some people have told me that I made a difference. They told me that I did something that matters.
 
I’m a professional wrestler now. The things that happen in the ring, these battles, stories written in blood and emotion, on a square canvas. There’s a story to every fight. Some are inspired by real life, but most of them are meaningless dribble. Like social media posts without a beginning or an ending.
 
Sometimes I tap into elements of my identity when I’m in a fight.  Sometimes I have something to fight for. But most of it is fake. Pretending to want to hurt people for fun. I fight because it’s a job. It gets me by. But it doesn’t define who I am. It isn’t my identity.
 
I’m a guy. No different than you. I wrestle for a living. It’s entertainment. It’s a job. Does that make sense? Have I lost you already?
 
I’ve been doing this a while now. I’ve met a lot of people in the business. There are all sorts. Big ones. Pretty ones. Weird ones. They’re all some mix of athlete/performer/ artist/entertainer. You can’t put any of them into categories. They’re not the heroes and villains that we imagine them to be. They’re just people.
 
The mistake people make who watching this sport is thinking that you can put wrestlers into categories. Like, “hey, this guy is a brawler. She’s a highflyer. That old man is a technical genius.” It’s all cliché. It’s cringe. You can’t put a person in a box. You can’t put labels on them. You don’t get to define their identities.
 
Why we wrestle is a very personal question. Usually, you get some bullshit story about having a troubled childhood. Or a quest for glory. But you never get the real answer. Most of us are here, wrestling in front of the world, because it’s a calling. It’s the only thing we know how to do. And the small window of time we spend between the bells is the only time we feel like what we’re doing something that matters.
 
I won’t tell you lies. In fact, I never lie. I love this world of wrestling. Wrestling is my forever. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. It’s humanity, condensed in a two-hour show. It’s Shakespeare in sport. Wrestling is a love letter and a middle finger. It’s everything. The highest form of art.
 
I never put much thought much into my accomplishments until I filled out a job application to work for a major wrestling promotion. For many years, I simply didn’t exist. Then I became a pro wrestler, and now I’m writing this and trying to figure out, like, who the hell am I? What’s my identity?
 
Let’s say, for arguments sake that you decide to call me one of you. A pro wrestler. The rest? That’s way up in the air. Sure, I done some great things. You might even be impressed by a couple of them. But you can’t take just the good without the bad. I’m socially challenged, recovering alcoholic, masochist, headcase redneck raise on a cow farm. I'm only human. Dust to dust.
 
Above all other things. I hope to be a good father. I know in my heart that I am, but your body of work as a father doesn’t end until your life does. You can’t retire from parenthood. There is no father hall of fame. My greatest fear is that I fail in my attempt at parental greatness.
 
So, who do we say has come to the XWF? Just say Buster. 'Cause that can mean everything. It’s all that shit I said before, all the shit I’ve forgotten, and all the shit that hasn’t happened yet. I make no apologies. I tell no lies. I don’t have the answers. I’ve just seen some things and been some places and made some observations along the way.
 
I want you to have fun when you watch my matches. And I sincerely hope that none of you take anything I say too seriously. I’m on the bad side of 35. Most veterans my age have already been to the summit and are dying on the way back down the mountain. I’m still on the climb. I’m still on my way and I want you to come with me.
 
I’m blessed to do what I love for a living, and I like to think I’m pretty good at it. Maybe I just got lucky. Maybe my life serves as a guide on what not to do. Regardless, I hope that in every match, I create something that people enjoy. I’ll bare my soul, I’ll open my veins for this business, just to entertain you.
 
Welcome to my story. You’re gonna love it.




[Image: buster-gloves-dojo-cropped.png]
]]> [Image: highlight-video-b.png]
THE APPETIZER
OFF CAM
 
“I’m gonna wrestle for another company.” Says the dad-bro sitting in a booth inside a Florida Applebee’s. He takes a bite of his boneless buffalo wing while the two teenage boys in front of him digest what he just said. Some people say you shouldn’t eat boneless buffalo wings with a fork, that it takes away from the experience. But the truth is that the quality of a boneless buffalo wing is determined by the sauce, not by the delivery system.
 
“Did you get fired?” Asks one kid.
 
“Did you say the r-word? Says the awkward tween in the booth.
 
“What?! No. God no. Not since I saw Carlos Mencia at the DC Improv. Anyway, I went to the money guys at Level Up and asked to restructure my deal.”
 
“You quit?”
 
“No, I didn’t quit. I’m still gonna work there. But now I also get to work for other feds. I negotiated it as part of my contract extension. It’s more respectful.”
 
“Sounds like quitting with extra steps.”
 
Buster has to pause for a moment. His children are becoming too powerful. A combination of dank memes and TikTok challenges have turned them into hardened trolls. He may have to release them into the sewers before they deadname the family dog.
 
“Look. I’m not quitting Level Up. I’m just not going to be an exclusive Level Up guy anymore.”
 
“What does that mean?” Says one brother.
 
“It means he’s cheating on his employer.” Says the other brother.
 
The 35-year father of two takes an angry bite of another boneless wing. The crispy breaded pieces of tender boneless chicken are tossed in one of several wing sauces. There is, of course, the classic buffalo flavor, but it’s only a gateway flavor to adult palettes. The Extra Hot Buffalo is a fuller flavor experience, but still lacks the kick of its moniker. When unsure which flavor of boneless wings to enjoy, honey BBQ is a tried-and-true method. Sweet and spicy. Savory and delicious. It’s available as part of the Applebee’s classic combo or standalone in a plentiful dish of poultry perfection.
 
“I’m not cheating! I was their champion for a while. And I never once wrestled for anyone else while I retained that belt. I promised to represent the company for as long as I was their champion. And now that I’m not, I’m free to seek opportunities elsewhere. I know I’m kind of an asshole, but I’m not a dickhead.”

“So where are you wrestling now?” says the younger brother.
 
“Well, aside from the appearances at Level Up, I’m going to be working for XWF. It’s kind of a pay-per-performance deal, but the amount of exposure I’ll get is a big deal.”
“Are you in their main event?” says the older brother.
 
“Main event?! Dalton, are you on the reefer? Do you guys even watch my matches?”
 
“I would if they were on YouTube.” Says Swayze.
 
“You’re killing me, Smalls… The answer to your question is NO. I’m not in the main event. I’m what you call ‘Mid-Card Talent. You guys understand what that means?”
 
“I think we can figure that one out.”
 
“When do you wrestle?”
 
“I’m appearing on XWF’s next pay-per-view. They have me slotted as the first match on the third card. It’s kind of a crappy booking, but I’m staying optimistic about it. It’s a great chance to get the crowd going on the final night of the 3-day event.
 
Both of the children have a good laugh. Since 1980, millions of families, just like this, have share happy moments, just like this. Originally started as a small single location in Atlanta Georgia, Applebee’s was the passion project of culinary wizards Bill and TJ Palmer. A lot has changed since then, with almost 2,000 locations in the U.S. and around the world, Applebee’s has brought the family back to the dinner table. Inside their walls, you will always be their guest for delicious food, in a neighborhood setting, with attentive service, at a great value.
 
“What happened? I thought you were elite, Dad. I thought you won all your matches.” Says the older brother.
 
“No. I WAS winning all my matches. I haven’t won anything in like 2 months. You guys need to cut me some slack. You know this job is really hard, right? The other guys are actually trying to beat me.”
 
“To be honest, I have no idea what the rules are.” Says the younger brother while keeping his eyes locked on the succulent appetizer sampler. As soon as his father stops stress eating and relinquishes the dish, he’ll shoot for the quesadilla. Or maybe the fried cheese stick.
 
“Can we get back on topic, please? What I’m telling you is that I’m kind of over Level Up. I appreciate all that they did for me, giving me my first big contract. But I’ve hit the ceiling over there. I’ve outgrown the place.”
 
“K.” Says the older brother Dalton.
 
“So, you hate working there?” Says the younger brother Swayze.
 
“Well, no. It’s kind of the opposite. It’s hard to explain. Management hasn’t really been taking my calls lately. It might just be a case of ‘If they were upset with me, I’d know it’, but it low-key feels like they hate me. Like I’m not part of the inner circle anymore now that I’m not a champion. I’m not even upset about it. If I were them, I’d hate dealing with me. I overstep. I can’t stay in my lane. It’s unreasonable to expect your employer to sing you to sleep every night.”
 
“So, you’re leaving because they don’t give you enough attention?”
 
“When you put it that way, it sounds like a really pathetic excuse for distancing myself. But for the last few months, I get sick every time I leave you guys here, in Florida, while I get on an uncomfortable airplane, and I fly to some random city in the Midwest. I freaking hate flying.
 
The original Atlanta location of Applebee’s was established in 1980 under the name T.J. Applebee’s Edibles and Elixirs. It was labelled as a casual family diner, open and affordable to the public, but urban legends and conspiracy theories claim a darker secret is held within its walls. A number of unconfirmed stories have stated that the establishment has, at times, been tied to the Illuminati, underground fight clubs, Essential Oils pyramid schemes, and Satan worshipping pizza parties. Curiously enough, during its 42-year history, over 60 people have died just at this one location. And to this day, they continue offering an authentic American dining experience, featuring bottomless refills and all-you-can-eat boneless buffalo wings for just $12.99 (plus tax and tip).
 
“Why do you hate flying? Are you afraid of heights?” Asks Swayze.
 
“Show me on the doll where the airplane touched you.” Suggests Dalton.
 
Buster burps cherry cola.
 
“Airplanes, even the dope ones from Kayfabe Airlines, are just awful. Yes, I am a bit afraid of heights, but that’s not what I hate about flying. It’s being forced to sit with random people. I’m a big guy. It’s always uncomfortable. They always sit me between a Chatting Kathy and a guy wearing Chicken Tikka Masala.
 
“I bet you’d like them more if they had hookers and blackjack.”
 
Buster has a couple long blinks and a deep breath as Jesus takes the wheel.
 
Dalton continues. “So anyway, you’re a quitter now? Are we just allowed to quit stuff when it starts to suck?”
 
“Dally, I just can’t do it. I can’t be married to that place anymore. I need to spread my wings. I need to meet some new people in this industry. I’m tired of people thinking I’m a joke.”
 
Swayze pulls the classic combo of Applebee’s delicious appetizers directly in front of him. Shielding it from the dad-tears. He scarfs the mozzarella sticks and patronizes his father. “It’s ok, Dad. You shouldn’t work a bad job if you don’t like it.”
 
“It’s not even like that. It’s a great company, but something there hasn’t been right for a little while. I can’t put my finger on it. The timing has been wrong. I made some mistakes. My head is all screwed up. I’m talking to my AA sponsor about working through some of those issues.”
 
Through melty fried cheese and savory marinara, Swayze opines. “Just sounds like you’re giving up too easily.”
 
“Ok, let me put it this way. You probably have a girl in school that you like. She’s pretty. Nice hair. Lots of followers. She even likes Video Games.”
 
Both boys speak in unison. “Becky Berkhart.”
 
“Sure. Becky Berkhart.  So, let’s say you start dating Becky.”
 
“Me maybe. Not Humperfart over here.” Says Dalton as Swayze glared back with the fire of a thousand suns.
 
“Can you guys, just… not, for a minute?”
 
Tense…silence…
 
“So, you’re dating Becky Berkhart. And it’s great at first. All your friends are impressed because you landed one of the hottest chicks in your grade.”
 
“You can’t say chicks.” Says Swayze.
 
“Fuck off! I can’t?” Buster says.
 
“No. It’s offensive.”
 
“Well, what am I supposed to call them?”
 
“Nothing. You can’t say anything anymore.”
 
“What do you say to girls?”
 
“Nothing. We’re terrified of them.”
 
“That… that’s fair. Ok, so let’s enter the magical land of unicorns and non-threatening boy-girl interactions, where you and your girlfriend, Becky Berkhart, are going steady. You’re hanging out. You’re kissing under the bleachers. And one day you find out that she’s giving squeezers to the entire soccer team under the bleachers. Not only that. But she’s also saying some unflattering things about you. To be fair to her, most of what she’s saying is true, but it still hurts. You know what I mean?”
 
In unison. “No.”
 
“God. You two are giving me a mild stroke. If your girlfriend was shitty to you, would you continue dating her?”
 
“I don’t know.” Says Dalton.
 
“He’d stay with her because he likes her boobs.”
 
“I feel you there, bro. But let’s not forget that Becky Berkhart is a dirty cheater.”
 
This gathers the unwanted attention of other guests who may be related to dirty cheater Becky Berkhart or may just be the nosy neighbors in the hood. If only these kitschy walls could talk, what stories, what curiosities, what horrors would they speak of. The depths of the human experience drip from layers of regional flair.
 
“So, here’s the deal, you break up with Becky Berkhart, but you do it on good terms. You keep her number in your phone and you wait for that booty call. You hang out in the glass case and one day soon, after a bottle of Moscato and a Bridget Jones movie, she calls you up, she cheats on her new boyfriend, and she goes all the way with you. You’ve already put up with her bullshit for a year, if you just keep your mouth shut, she’ll eventually give you that sympathy lay. Does that make any sense.”
 
“You realize I’m only 15 years old? And he’s 13. He probably doesn’t even understand half the stuff you just said.” Admits Dalton.
 
“No, no. I follow. Go on.” Speaks Swayze.
 
“Well, that, my friends, is what it’s like to have a job that you don’t enjoy. I called my boss at Level Up and we negotiated a new contract that allows me to work anywhere I want while still being booked over there. I can’t promise you I’m gonna win a lot of matches in the next year, but I’m gonna fight my ass off. I’m gonna be everywhere and people are gonna be sick of hearing my name.”
 
“Dad, can we order our own food now?”
 
“Not yet, Son. Half priced apps don’t start at Applebee’s until 9pm.”
 
Eat good in your neighborhood my friends. For the night is long and full of terrors.




ON-CAM
 
I’ve never really stopped to consider my own identity. What I am. What I represent. It’s not like anyone would actually care if I did.  
 
Sure, I’ve been a lot of different things over the years, a soldier, a fighter, a husband, a father. Some people have told me that I made a difference. They told me that I did something that matters.
 
I’m a professional wrestler now. The things that happen in the ring, these battles, stories written in blood and emotion, on a square canvas. There’s a story to every fight. Some are inspired by real life, but most of them are meaningless dribble. Like social media posts without a beginning or an ending.
 
Sometimes I tap into elements of my identity when I’m in a fight.  Sometimes I have something to fight for. But most of it is fake. Pretending to want to hurt people for fun. I fight because it’s a job. It gets me by. But it doesn’t define who I am. It isn’t my identity.
 
I’m a guy. No different than you. I wrestle for a living. It’s entertainment. It’s a job. Does that make sense? Have I lost you already?
 
I’ve been doing this a while now. I’ve met a lot of people in the business. There are all sorts. Big ones. Pretty ones. Weird ones. They’re all some mix of athlete/performer/ artist/entertainer. You can’t put any of them into categories. They’re not the heroes and villains that we imagine them to be. They’re just people.
 
The mistake people make who watching this sport is thinking that you can put wrestlers into categories. Like, “hey, this guy is a brawler. She’s a highflyer. That old man is a technical genius.” It’s all cliché. It’s cringe. You can’t put a person in a box. You can’t put labels on them. You don’t get to define their identities.
 
Why we wrestle is a very personal question. Usually, you get some bullshit story about having a troubled childhood. Or a quest for glory. But you never get the real answer. Most of us are here, wrestling in front of the world, because it’s a calling. It’s the only thing we know how to do. And the small window of time we spend between the bells is the only time we feel like what we’re doing something that matters.
 
I won’t tell you lies. In fact, I never lie. I love this world of wrestling. Wrestling is my forever. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. It’s humanity, condensed in a two-hour show. It’s Shakespeare in sport. Wrestling is a love letter and a middle finger. It’s everything. The highest form of art.
 
I never put much thought much into my accomplishments until I filled out a job application to work for a major wrestling promotion. For many years, I simply didn’t exist. Then I became a pro wrestler, and now I’m writing this and trying to figure out, like, who the hell am I? What’s my identity?
 
Let’s say, for arguments sake that you decide to call me one of you. A pro wrestler. The rest? That’s way up in the air. Sure, I done some great things. You might even be impressed by a couple of them. But you can’t take just the good without the bad. I’m socially challenged, recovering alcoholic, masochist, headcase redneck raise on a cow farm. I'm only human. Dust to dust.
 
Above all other things. I hope to be a good father. I know in my heart that I am, but your body of work as a father doesn’t end until your life does. You can’t retire from parenthood. There is no father hall of fame. My greatest fear is that I fail in my attempt at parental greatness.
 
So, who do we say has come to the XWF? Just say Buster. 'Cause that can mean everything. It’s all that shit I said before, all the shit I’ve forgotten, and all the shit that hasn’t happened yet. I make no apologies. I tell no lies. I don’t have the answers. I’ve just seen some things and been some places and made some observations along the way.
 
I want you to have fun when you watch my matches. And I sincerely hope that none of you take anything I say too seriously. I’m on the bad side of 35. Most veterans my age have already been to the summit and are dying on the way back down the mountain. I’m still on the climb. I’m still on my way and I want you to come with me.
 
I’m blessed to do what I love for a living, and I like to think I’m pretty good at it. Maybe I just got lucky. Maybe my life serves as a guide on what not to do. Regardless, I hope that in every match, I create something that people enjoy. I’ll bare my soul, I’ll open my veins for this business, just to entertain you.
 
Welcome to my story. You’re gonna love it.




[Image: buster-gloves-dojo-cropped.png]
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