<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Bad Medicine RP Boards 2022]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Mon, 01 Jun 2026 09:09:51 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Act CVII: Feed the Fear in Your Mind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45159 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 23:59:09 -0800 Finn Kühn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45159





15 November 2022
Frankfurt, Germany


"Home sweet home..." I felt myself muttering under my breath as the high-rise buildings and skyscrapers stretched themselves to the heavens above. Even though I had been in Germany for years after my first departure from the XWF, I had never returned to Frankfurt for the purpose I was here on this trip for. "You're... sure this is going to help, right?"

My voice came out wary, uneasy. Skyla Hawkins was in the front seat, driving through the city's busy streets with fingers being drummed against the steering wheel as she did so. Having to slog through the traffic of such a busy city was enough to grate on almost anyone's nerves, and she was certainly no exception. "If I didn't think so, Finn, I wouldn't have suggested this to you. It's that simple."

"Fair enough," I sighed in response, reclining deeper into my seat as I did so.

Family was a sore subject for me. Of course, the matter of my mother and my father - may their souls find peace - was something that was near and dear to my heart. But given my more... remote upbringing away from the rest of the family given we were forced to move to America, I had to grow up without them. It wasn't that I disliked them or anything, but there always felt like there was a... rift. To me, they largely felt like strangers. My Aunt Claudia had attempted to reach out to me multiple times, but nothing had ever... truly come up.

Of course, once Skyla had managed to needle that out of me during another of our talks about the matter of 'family,' this road trip became her idea in an attempt to 'break my mental barrier.' We were just on our way to the hotel to check in first before we do anything like that the next day, but unfortunately, traffic was trying to make us turn old and gray in the process.

It was odd. For someone who claimed that they were no therapist, she was truly attempting to get to the bottom of things like one. Her help was appreciated, certainly... but a part of me felt almost ashamed that things had to be at this point.

I should be better. No, I had to be better by now. I was coming away with a couple of wins, but until that point came, I was easily in one of the worst slumps one could be in for a career. An entire month. Winless. I had to try to keep pushing forward so I could avoid falling into that slump again, but considering the circumstances...

The weight of failure felt heavy on my shoulders.

"Well, Finn," Christine chimed in beside me in the backseat, trying her best to try keeping a chipper tone. Her mood had certainly improved as of late. There was less of an icy tone to her words now that had once developed after our discussion in the trainer's room after the topic of my injuries. I didn't care either way, but I supposed it was easier on me at the end of the day if she wasn't lashing out at me. "All things considered, how are you feeling?"

"About as fine as I can be," I responded almost out of instinct, pushing the thought of 'weakness' out of my mind. "My head and neck feel better, I came out with the truth about Peter Vaughn, and I'm having a match against the two men I've been looking to get my hands on at full strength for ages now. How could I not be feeling good about things right about now?"

"You've been keeping up with the dossiers though, riiight?" Christine's voice was almost nagging at this point, lecturing me almost as a parent would as they try to keep their child on track. It was enough to make me roll my eyes in response, as I gave a simple nod yes.

In truth, I knew I didn't need it for Buster. The two of us knew each other intrinsically at this point. Multiple encounters within a short span in the confines of the ring will do that to you. I've seen and experienced almost everything he could dish out, and likewise, he's seen just as much of my revamped moveset.

Vaughn, however, was the known unknown in this instance, so to speak. The sniveling coward who needed his just desserts. He was the man I needed to keep eyes in the back of my head for.

"Good!" Christine said, taking my nod at face value as she reclined right back into her own seat, as well.

A moment of silence passed between the three of us as we sat in the sleek black rental car Skyla had purchased for the next few days. I knew she had plans for days, and hated being forced to just... wait like this was practically murder on her. She did not show it, but the death stare behind almost stormy green eyes told the entire story. There were things to do, people to meet, training sessions to accomplish...

This felt almost like the calm before the inevitable storm, right about now.

Sensing the almost awkward silence being able to drag on to a deafening level, Christine turned to me to try and make casual conversation. "Sooooo... you speak often with your extended family?"

"No," came the painfully blunt answer from myself.

"Did they... come out for your mom and dad's funeral, at least?" Christine asked. Her pause indicated that she was trying to figure out the best way to frame that question gently, but didn't see a way to do so, and instead decided to be more direct in her speech.

My eyes brought themselves out from looking through the nearby, sun-flooding window, and instead deadpanned themselves right at her. "Yeah, they did."

"Oh! That's... good, at least." Christine said, trying to prevent the car from being flooded with the stench of quiet once more. She eventually settled on, "You, uh... have a lot of other friends?"

"I... used to have more," I admitted as my eyes drifted back to the world outside. "I distanced myself from a lot of that. I just need to focus on trying to be the best, is all."

Skyla's eyes looked back into the rearview mirror, locking her gaze onto me for a brief moment before giving a small noise of indignation and looking back to the slowly moving line of cars. Christine tried gathering her thoughts on how to respond. Finally finding her voice again though, she managed to mutter out, "I don't think that's really healthy..."

"So are a lot of things," I responded with a sigh. "Friends are nice, but they're not what I'm looking for at the end of the day. What I'm looking for is to try and make the industry of pro wrestling the best it can be. It should be of matters of strength and will, not underhanded tactics and filth. A certain opponent of mine coming up at Bad Medicine could do with being reminded of that fact."

It was clear who that little jab was meant for. Christine nodded her head slowly, knowing that we already went over some of this before in our discussions. "You... really wanna be the best for that then, huh?"

"I have to," I corrected Christine. My brows furrowed together as I turned over my shoulder, looking at her right in the eye. "I must try to become the best if I want to improve things for the better. Many people talk about wanting the best for others, but they do little to try and act on it. I've seen it just from being back. There are many good men who say good things, but they're absorbed with themselves first and foremost. For some, there's hypocrisy behind their actions. For others, there's a level of arrogance. Maybe me wishing solely to become the best and label myself as a ruler might be the height of hubris, but I say it because I know that if I don't do it, who will?"

And once more, the sound of silence returned to the car. The line of vehicles ahead stopped, and once more Skyla's eyes bore right into my own, deeply intrigued by what I had to say as she stared into the rearview mirror. Christine tried to find the words to speak out, debating several different times internally. Each time she thought she'd come to a conclusion on what to say, she'd make a small noise, a small indicator that she was trying to ask a question, only to quiet herself down.

Exhaling, I went to look back out the window, and that was exactly when Christine decided to speak.

"So, are you doing that because you want to, or because you're thrusting self-imposed expectations at yourself?"

The question made me pause. My gaze hadn't returned to looking outside the window, but the words themselves contained a deep weight behind them. What I wanted? I exhaled at first, thinking it a simple answer. I wanted to do well for others around me, to give them a better life, to give the people watching a better experience than some of the other people that infested the XWF and pro wrestling as a whole like rotting corpses.

But that was a motive that served the others around me. If and when I ever manage to complete this goal... what then? What would happen for me? Was there a silver lining for Finn Kühn himself?

I pursed my lips, humming and tapping my fingers on the armrest in tune with Skyla's still-drumming fingers on the steering wheel. I knew I still wanted to do what I was doing... but was my mental barrier trying to find a personal reason for self-satisfaction outside of all the titles and names I could label for myself?

"It's something worth thinking about, Finn," Skyla chimed in from the front seat. The line of cars began moving once more, and so did the rental car the three of us sat inside of. "Finding all the more motivation can be helpfu-"

Skyla suddenly cut herself off, looking into the rearview mirror in realization of what was coming. The cars ahead stopped, and so did us, but the car behind us was still wheeling along. Her eyes widened, and she whispered under her breath, "Don't you fuckin' dare...!"


THUD!


The event itself happened in what felt like slow motion. The car lurched forward ever so slightly, bumping us along with it. We, ourselves, were completely fine - the perks of such slow-moving traffic that was ongoing. However, the back bumper of the rental car received one solid dent on the point of impact.

Skyla's knuckles began turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

"U-Uhm, hey Skyla..." Christine said in a desperate attempt to calm down what was about to be incoming. "Maybe you should-"





The sound of a Scottish accent becoming FAR more noticeable than usual ripped me right out of my thoughts as Skyla began fiercely muttering under her breath, unbuckling her seatbelt and bringing herself right onto the street as she shouted at the top of her lungs, "YOU DAFT FUCKIN' CUNT!"

"Oh no..." both Christine and I felt ourselves muttering in unison. We both remained still within the rental car at that moment. We knew that we were spared from an actual car crash wreaking havoc about us, but perhaps the real wreckage would be ongoing outside at that very moment as shouting and honking could be heard outside.

"THAT WAS A RENTAL CAR, YA SHITTY BAWBAG!"

The shouts of fierce German and broken English flooded through the air in response to the stark-mad woman's march forward as a young man got out of his car. "What is problem you have?! Du krasse Schlampe, du hast wohl nicht mehr alle Tassen im Schrank!"

"YER GONNA BE THE ONE TO EXPLAIN WHAHAPPENED 'ERE, YA JOBBY!"

"Why would I help you?! You are CRAZY woman!"

"AND YER DA SELLS AVON! NOW PICK UP YER BALLS AND-"

Gritting my teeth in a desperate attempt to block out the blaring horns coming from behind us, I looked to Christine and hoped for some level of innate support from her. Fists were likely about to start flying any second now, more than likely. However, much to my despair, she was already looking back at me as she quickly got out, "Not it!"

"..." The level of disgust my gaze had for the liaison sat beside me could not be properly placed into words. It shifted and morphed into a deep scowl, as I proceeded to start unbuckling my seatbelt and prepared myself to have to drag off the lion, so to speak. As I did so, I muttered to myself, "Thanks for nothing."

"Thank you, Fiiiiiinn!" Christine shouted behind me as I opened the door out.

"You are foul," I spat back at her while walking off.




Present Day


"One hour and fifty-two minutes."

"Over the course of one week, with four matches in total, and back-and-forth trips between the mainland US and Hawaii, I spent one hour and fifty-two minutes within the confines of the squared circle in an attempt to better myself and show the entire world what I was capable of."

"Within the near-two hours of action, I've faced some of the best the industry of pro wrestling has to offer. I've gone up against a man I had plenty of respect for in a former champion in Ned Kaye, and in spite of his own mental stupidity, I faced who will likely be a future champion in Goth. I went into Tara Fenix's Rumble match, and I stood toe-to-toe with and outlasted some of the best the industry has to offer."

"Holden Ross."

"Mike Mason."

"Giovanni Santana."

"Xavier Lux..."

"And not a damn soul could match my performance that night."

"And then, going back to Savage, on a night full of title changes and a Pay-Per-View-level card, do you know the match people were talking about most of all? It wasn't that wretched whore who I've beaten before in Jenny Myst winning the Xtreme champion. It wasn't Maddy Junior teaming up with his crush Angie Vaughn to win the tag titles. The only reason why they talked about the main event was that Dick Powers ended up dying before somehow making it back to Madness in the days after in one piece."

"The actual match people talked about was Finn Kühn going out there and stealing the show against Raion Kido. Finn Kühn went out there and he did far better than anyone gave him credit for. And though there was one other match in that span that I will get to, it was still more of the same in the end. Facing the best, and putting on the best performance."

"Now, at this point, one will probably be able to speak up and say 'Finn! You didn't exactly win any of these matches, so why are you bragging about them?"

"An excellent point. 'Almost' doesn't count for much in the world of pro wrestling. 'Almost' doesn't prove that you're better than your opponent. But I forged myself in the fires of those matches. I drove my broken, battered body through Hell to prove a point in that I was willing to do whatever it took in order to try bettering myself. You learn best through failure, as they say. And do you know what happened after that?"

"Two victories, just like that, and one of them came over the number one contender to the Universal Champion. Micheal Graves can try to make excuses about how genuine the win was all he wants, but the fact of the matter is, he knows on his best day his cheating won't buy him a win against me. On that night, I proved myself to be well and truly better, and there is not a damn thing anyone can say about that."

"So with all the rest in the world..."

"With all of the work I've been putting in on my end..."

"And wanting nothing more than to win and put all of this behind me, once and for all..."

"Imagine what I am going to do to the both of you."

"There are no disqualifications in this match. There are no count-outs in this match. There are no rules I have to worry about adhering to for the sake of a 'clean' victory, because so long as I get the win with my own two hands, I can do anything I want to."

"There will be no more asterisks for this match. There will be nothing stopping me from doing what I need to do. I'm going to go into Kansas City with a fire in my eyes, and this will be the first step on my coronation."

"Bank on it."









16 November 2022
Claudia Kühn's Home
Frankfurt, Germany


"Ach, Grüß Gott, Finn!" The tight bearhug Claudia Kühn wrapped me in as soon as I walked through the door was enough to practically crush my damn rib cage. Even though the old woman was pushing nearly 60, she took great care to keep her body in good condition. Her strength was downright deceptive in how much there was as I groaned out.

[meaning="'Hello, Aunt Claudia. How are you?' - Na is an informal expression meaning both hello and how are you?"]"Na, Tante Claudia. Wie gehts?"

"Oh, wunderbar, Finn! Especially now that I get to see you again!" Claudia said as she released the hug.

It took me a minute to realize what had happened, between being able to breathe again and my ears being far too used to English over the years again. Did Aunt Claudia just...?

"You learned English?" I asked, almost flabbergasted with a raise of an eyebrow. "I'm surprised. I knew you had trouble learning it, from what I've heard from Mother."

"It is... not so perfect," Claudia admitted in English that was only slightly broken, waving her hand in the meanwhile to show how her grasp of English was only 'so-so.' "I wanted to be good for if you ever came home to here! I figured you'd be so used to English, that Deutsch would be hard for you to use again!"

That... earned an exhale from me. As if my skill in my mother tongue would decay like that... but more importantly, how long did Aunt Claudia wait for me? The last time we had ever really spoke was... Mom's funeral, basically a decade ago. I was just becoming an adult by that time, and I remembered her for not being able to speak a lick of English, but she was basically the closest thing to the remaining head of the family. Dad spoke a lot about her when we were at home, but until now... I just tried dismissing it.

"I'm... pleased that you did so much to plan for me," I said in an attempt to keep my English basic so my Aunt could understand properly. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"Oh, Finn. It's fine, I don't blame you. Please come along now, and I can make sure food is ready for later." Claudia gestured for me to come along, her posture straight as the small yet fanciful bungalow seemed rather inviting. "I had seen you wrestling again! I know you speak with some friends now. Did they come along for this trip?"

"They had... business in the area," I quickly responded. I figured I'd spare Claudia the insane stories of Skyla's training plans. If she even knew about those stupid candy bars... "They wanted to tend to that first, and I decided I'd meet with you again while we were alone instead so that we could... catch up."

Claudia gave an approving hum while we walked, and gestured for me to sit down at the dining room table. Well... so far, so good, at least. I still wasn't sure about this, but at least things felt... okay. I still didn't think reconciling with my family would be what would get past this mental barrier in my mind like Skyla kept going on about, but I could at least try stomaching through a meeting like this if it meant we could try something else later.

Speaking of, Claudia went right into the nearby kitchen. With no walls getting in the way, we could freely keep speaking as she peered into her turned-on oven, checking the progress of her dish in there.

"Speaking of your friends, I hear you get along with them well! Do you have your eye on one of them...?"

"Wh- N-Nee! I mean... I haven't been seeing anyone like that!" Bringing Claudia's laughter out of my senses, I quickly shook my head as I felt my cheeks practically catching on fire. Being into Christine or Skyla like that... Christine and I had such a fragile peace as it was, and I didn't think we were compatible like that in the slightest. Skyla... maybe if she wasn't as crazy as she was, there might be something there, but I barely even considered her like that. I was always more focused on my training than looking at her like that.

"I'm only joking, Finn. It's nice to see you laugh like that, though." What did she mean by tha- "Now then, while I have Käsespätzle being baked, I figure I should show you something."

"What do you mean?" I asked while sitting up.

"Give me one second, if you don't mind..." Aunt Claudia took things upon herself to quickly scurry into the other room, clearly intending on bringing something out...

...

And then, there was silence again.




Present Day


"Of course, I'm not going to beat around the bush any longer. The last match I had in the aforementioned week was against none other than Buster Gloves back at the Tara Fenix Charity Event, and I lost. I have no problem admitting that. On that night, he was superior. He used his emotions to his advantage, and I couldn't keep up with him given the rigors of my earlier matches."

"Buster once called me his peer. His 'ring equal.' I think it goes deeper than that. I think, in spite of our differences, our similarities are there. I believe that deep down, we are two sides of the same coin. We both try to fight with honor, with tact, with dignity. We both fight to try to escape our past. In that vein, I respect him. I respect him for trying to walk his own path, fight the people he feels he needs to face in order to get his World title shot."

"But there's a difference between us. One notable thing that will set us apart."

"Buster Gloves fights the people on his list because he sees them as his obstacle. His mind is single-focused. Incensed on them. Because he wants his World title shot more than anything despite seeing himself - by his own words, mind you - as nothing special. It's his one shot at greatness that will come for him."

"My Road of the King paves itself through any and all who are deemed fit. Any former champion who walks in the XWF's halls are on there. It doesn't discriminate. It doesn't go against anything of the sort. And because it is as expansive as it can be, I don't hyper-focus on any specific target. They're not all I think about. I'm not losing sleep thinking about getting my hands on any one specific champion unless if they've done something to cross me."

"And I walk on my Road of the King for the sake of betterment. A man once said 'in order to be the man, you've got to beat the man,' and I plan on beating every man in front of me."

"Buster's way of looking at things is flawed. Because of the fact that he focuses only on those eight targets, it starts opening himself up to mistakes. For instance, you take a look at his match with Xavier Lux on Savage. This isn't just me trying to point out his failures and say he sucks because of it - but it's the way he lost. A last-ditch effort by Lux kept himself in the match, and Buster didn't think for a second that somehow Lux would be able to keep going, but he did. A taste of false success was enough for him to drop his guard, and Lux capitalized and got the pin."

"And now guess what's going to happen? Buster's going to go into that ring and focus all of his effort, all of his attention onto Peter Vaughn because he's the man who fooled him, who started this entire charade live starting on Pay-Per-View, and he's going to make a beeline on him. He's going to think he's got Vaughn down and out, and think he's got this match won, just like he did on Lux. The difference is how his party is going to be spoiled."

"It's going to be spoiled by me."

"If we're anything like each other, Buster, then you'd know I don't back down towards anything. That isn't going to change, even here. Because this is a match I need to win. Not just for the sake of beating Peter Vaughn, but to settle the matter between us once and for all. My win against you at Relentless can hardly count now, all things considered. If anything, you hold the upper hand over me record-wise now."

"This entire time, I've been trying to surpass myself. I've seen the similarities with myself in Isaiah King, Ned Kaye, and you... It's not even the me that's reached the mountaintop that I need to prove I'm better than, it's the me that only managed to come close and yet so far. That's all I've been able to do up to this point. But I know I'm better than that."

"Because every single time I look in the mirror, every single time I try to fall asleep, I always just end up thinking about what could have been. What should have been. But there is no room in life for could-haves, should-haves and if-onlys. I need to walk down a new path in life. The path provided to me by the Road of the King."

"That path is going to continue when I win at Bad Medicine. So be ready, Buster."




16 November 2022
Claudia Kühn's Home
Frankfurt, Germany


"Here it is!" Claudia declared with gusto in her voice as the weathered, dusty old tome was placed on the table. With a loud blow from her mouth, much of the dust scattered away and into the air, leaving me to peer at it with a curious expression.

"What is this...?" I asked.

"Oh, it's... nothing major. It's a... picture book, of your father and I with the rest of our family when we were children. I only just found it recently, but I figured... you'd like to see it. I know you never got the goodbye with him that you wanted..." Claudia looked back up at me, offering me a warm, genuine smile.

My heart felt like it froze. No, it was frozen ever since I stepped inside this home.

Seeing Dad like that... this entire time, every time I thought about him, my mind always ended up driving itself to him on his death bed. It horrified me. To sit and stew in that dread. To watch as the man who tried to give you the best life possible suffered in his sleep, suffering from kidney failure as all the liquid pooled in his body to turn him into some pudgy mess with his tongue lulling out of his body and knowing you couldn't care for him and you couldn't help him and you could only watch leading up to this point as he forgot your name and who you ever were-

I blinked. I took a deep breath. I calmed my quivering hands, trying to guide myself back into reality and resist the urge to let things out. I had to... try and keep strong. That wasn't an issue. It was a decade ago. I've moved on. I've moved on. I've moved on. I've moved o-

"That sounds good," I nodded. "If you'd like, then... I'd be happy to."

Claudia gave me a sad smile and shook her head. The hesitation and sorrow were evident in my eyes. The bulletproof persona I was trying desperately to keep up was shattering.

"It's okay," she nodded. "He loved you, Finn. I hope you know that. Both he and your mother. Before... before Dirk's mind was bad" - in this moment I was able to just ignore the poor grammar from Claudia given her still-growing handle on the language and just listened - "he used to call me every now and again and we'd catch up. You'd always be something we talked about, Finn. He had such high hopes for you. And he knew - he knew you could do it. He always brought up how you wanted to go into wrestling, and..."

Claudia's voice trailed off, fading as she looked at the scrapbook. "I miss him too. I never got to say goodbye, too. So maybe, this will help us both."

In that moment, what felt like a truly extraordinary weight was beginning to lift itself off of my shoulders as I nodded.

"Please," I whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears beginning to well up in my eyes. "I... I'd like that, more than anything."

Claudia turned to me one last time, and behind her own tearful eyes, she smiled and nodded at me.

And so, she turned the book open to the first page.




Present Day


"Peter Vaughn is a main event-level talent with a midcarder's mindset."

"He has a special talent. Put his silver tongue to good use to make himself look as good as possible, to cast doubt on his opponents, and let those seeds grow so he can try to win. He makes himself look like the hero of his own story, and you know what? Maybe others might be able to see him as a hero... but then he throws it away by just cheating."

"It's disgusting. It's hypocritical. It's repulsive. Peter Vaughn is the antithesis of what I stand for. He babbles on and on and on, but at the end of the day he uses his cheating as a mere crutch to try and get the job done. But that crutch gets taken away when it comes to matches where his opponents show no problem sinking to the same depths he goes to, especially in a no-disqualification match. Just ask Charlie Nickles, why don't you?"

"It's a shame. Because I meant what I said about him being a main event talent, but he refuses to just... better himself and instead plays along with fanciful fairytales! Instead of earning his way through his title defenses, interferences in his favor and cheap tactics are the norm."

"You know what I think, Vaughn?"

"You're pathetic."

"Empty."

"Hollow."

"You look at a title and you gravitate towards it. You clutch onto it with your cold, dead, clammy hands because you crave success. You crave success more than anything for the sake of it. Because it lets you know that your life isn't a failure. It reminds you you're more than just the janitor that you were in the past. It lets you bask in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, the first maybe... the first decades of your life weren't just a waste."

"So you cling to a title like it's your lifeline, and you try manipulating everything around you with those seeds of doubt, to make others think you're as good as you try to make yourself seem. Even when it's just so, blatantly obvious."

"I'm going to even call it right now. I don't know what Peter Vaughn's said, but I'm willing to bet you money that he's going to come up with some garbage lie about how I never objected to the result at Relentless, how I was fine to just go along my merry way and enjoy the win."

"How do I know this? Because Ned had this same exact talking point himself. And if Ned thought this was a somehow salient talking point, you would have too. And if that was the case, then others were probably going to chime in, thinking it's some grand 'aha!' moment that will surely reveal me as a fraud. And if anyone cared to do some research - even though we all know Pete and the truth don't exactly mix - he'd know that I never was willing to just bask in a tainted win."

(09-25-2022, 05:27 PM)Finn Kühn After Relentless Night 3 Said: Finn's expression turned into that of a scowl as he looked at Sayors. "I said it before when I was gearing up to face Lexi Gold and John Black, and I'll say it again. I despise cheating. There is no glory to be gained in that ring with dubious means like that. I'm going to figure out who got involved in my business, and if Buster Gloves - and yes, I'm going to say his name out of respect for the man who brought it out there tonight - thinks I was responsible in the slightest for that, then he can meet me in the ring on Warfare while I'll be out there talking, and we can discuss this like grown-ass adults."

"Well, that's... certainly an answer then..." Sayors managed to stumble out, straightening himself under Finn's harsh glare. "Oh, but if I may... you'll be talking on Warfare? What about?"

"Simple," Finn said. "For too long I've been trying to figure out my next move in this company now that I'm back, and intending to prove I'm better than ever."

"Before my match on the next Warfare, I intend to show everyone how I plan on doing so while I figure out who got involved in my match at Relentless."

"So that would explain why I decided it was okay after all to jump through hoops and help Buster out, because I wanted to know the truth alongside of him, huh? Oops."

"Let's face it, Vaughn. You can't even lie right to save your life."

"You're a fraud."

"A sham."

"A writhing, pathetic, disgusting maggot."

"If you want to manipulate Buster into believing you after I showed him the truth, then by all means. It doesn't change facts. Your little scheme is crumbling down right in front of your eyes. I'm going to beat you, and him, because at the end of the day it's a Triple Threat match and I have no qualms with saying it's going to be every man for himself in there."

"I'm going to place this into perspective for you, hypocrite, because I don't think you understand the predicament you're in that began as soon as you entered yourself into my business."

"I will make you watch as I make you bleed."

"I will make you see me as I break your damn arm."

"I will make you see every ounce of false progress you've accumulated in your career crumble to bits."

"And you will know that this - all of this - is your fault. You did this from the start. All of this happened because. Of. You."

"You will come to grips with that fact and realize the fact that your miserable life is going to fall down because of the consequences of your actions. You'll realize that in the end, your talent is going to go to waste, and you'll realize that at the end of the day..."

"You're just a janitor, Pete."

"Then, and only then, will I pin you."

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15 November 2022
Frankfurt, Germany


"Home sweet home..." I felt myself muttering under my breath as the high-rise buildings and skyscrapers stretched themselves to the heavens above. Even though I had been in Germany for years after my first departure from the XWF, I had never returned to Frankfurt for the purpose I was here on this trip for. "You're... sure this is going to help, right?"

My voice came out wary, uneasy. Skyla Hawkins was in the front seat, driving through the city's busy streets with fingers being drummed against the steering wheel as she did so. Having to slog through the traffic of such a busy city was enough to grate on almost anyone's nerves, and she was certainly no exception. "If I didn't think so, Finn, I wouldn't have suggested this to you. It's that simple."

"Fair enough," I sighed in response, reclining deeper into my seat as I did so.

Family was a sore subject for me. Of course, the matter of my mother and my father - may their souls find peace - was something that was near and dear to my heart. But given my more... remote upbringing away from the rest of the family given we were forced to move to America, I had to grow up without them. It wasn't that I disliked them or anything, but there always felt like there was a... rift. To me, they largely felt like strangers. My Aunt Claudia had attempted to reach out to me multiple times, but nothing had ever... truly come up.

Of course, once Skyla had managed to needle that out of me during another of our talks about the matter of 'family,' this road trip became her idea in an attempt to 'break my mental barrier.' We were just on our way to the hotel to check in first before we do anything like that the next day, but unfortunately, traffic was trying to make us turn old and gray in the process.

It was odd. For someone who claimed that they were no therapist, she was truly attempting to get to the bottom of things like one. Her help was appreciated, certainly... but a part of me felt almost ashamed that things had to be at this point.

I should be better. No, I had to be better by now. I was coming away with a couple of wins, but until that point came, I was easily in one of the worst slumps one could be in for a career. An entire month. Winless. I had to try to keep pushing forward so I could avoid falling into that slump again, but considering the circumstances...

The weight of failure felt heavy on my shoulders.

"Well, Finn," Christine chimed in beside me in the backseat, trying her best to try keeping a chipper tone. Her mood had certainly improved as of late. There was less of an icy tone to her words now that had once developed after our discussion in the trainer's room after the topic of my injuries. I didn't care either way, but I supposed it was easier on me at the end of the day if she wasn't lashing out at me. "All things considered, how are you feeling?"

"About as fine as I can be," I responded almost out of instinct, pushing the thought of 'weakness' out of my mind. "My head and neck feel better, I came out with the truth about Peter Vaughn, and I'm having a match against the two men I've been looking to get my hands on at full strength for ages now. How could I not be feeling good about things right about now?"

"You've been keeping up with the dossiers though, riiight?" Christine's voice was almost nagging at this point, lecturing me almost as a parent would as they try to keep their child on track. It was enough to make me roll my eyes in response, as I gave a simple nod yes.

In truth, I knew I didn't need it for Buster. The two of us knew each other intrinsically at this point. Multiple encounters within a short span in the confines of the ring will do that to you. I've seen and experienced almost everything he could dish out, and likewise, he's seen just as much of my revamped moveset.

Vaughn, however, was the known unknown in this instance, so to speak. The sniveling coward who needed his just desserts. He was the man I needed to keep eyes in the back of my head for.

"Good!" Christine said, taking my nod at face value as she reclined right back into her own seat, as well.

A moment of silence passed between the three of us as we sat in the sleek black rental car Skyla had purchased for the next few days. I knew she had plans for days, and hated being forced to just... wait like this was practically murder on her. She did not show it, but the death stare behind almost stormy green eyes told the entire story. There were things to do, people to meet, training sessions to accomplish...

This felt almost like the calm before the inevitable storm, right about now.

Sensing the almost awkward silence being able to drag on to a deafening level, Christine turned to me to try and make casual conversation. "Sooooo... you speak often with your extended family?"

"No," came the painfully blunt answer from myself.

"Did they... come out for your mom and dad's funeral, at least?" Christine asked. Her pause indicated that she was trying to figure out the best way to frame that question gently, but didn't see a way to do so, and instead decided to be more direct in her speech.

My eyes brought themselves out from looking through the nearby, sun-flooding window, and instead deadpanned themselves right at her. "Yeah, they did."

"Oh! That's... good, at least." Christine said, trying to prevent the car from being flooded with the stench of quiet once more. She eventually settled on, "You, uh... have a lot of other friends?"

"I... used to have more," I admitted as my eyes drifted back to the world outside. "I distanced myself from a lot of that. I just need to focus on trying to be the best, is all."

Skyla's eyes looked back into the rearview mirror, locking her gaze onto me for a brief moment before giving a small noise of indignation and looking back to the slowly moving line of cars. Christine tried gathering her thoughts on how to respond. Finally finding her voice again though, she managed to mutter out, "I don't think that's really healthy..."

"So are a lot of things," I responded with a sigh. "Friends are nice, but they're not what I'm looking for at the end of the day. What I'm looking for is to try and make the industry of pro wrestling the best it can be. It should be of matters of strength and will, not underhanded tactics and filth. A certain opponent of mine coming up at Bad Medicine could do with being reminded of that fact."

It was clear who that little jab was meant for. Christine nodded her head slowly, knowing that we already went over some of this before in our discussions. "You... really wanna be the best for that then, huh?"

"I have to," I corrected Christine. My brows furrowed together as I turned over my shoulder, looking at her right in the eye. "I must try to become the best if I want to improve things for the better. Many people talk about wanting the best for others, but they do little to try and act on it. I've seen it just from being back. There are many good men who say good things, but they're absorbed with themselves first and foremost. For some, there's hypocrisy behind their actions. For others, there's a level of arrogance. Maybe me wishing solely to become the best and label myself as a ruler might be the height of hubris, but I say it because I know that if I don't do it, who will?"

And once more, the sound of silence returned to the car. The line of vehicles ahead stopped, and once more Skyla's eyes bore right into my own, deeply intrigued by what I had to say as she stared into the rearview mirror. Christine tried to find the words to speak out, debating several different times internally. Each time she thought she'd come to a conclusion on what to say, she'd make a small noise, a small indicator that she was trying to ask a question, only to quiet herself down.

Exhaling, I went to look back out the window, and that was exactly when Christine decided to speak.

"So, are you doing that because you want to, or because you're thrusting self-imposed expectations at yourself?"

The question made me pause. My gaze hadn't returned to looking outside the window, but the words themselves contained a deep weight behind them. What I wanted? I exhaled at first, thinking it a simple answer. I wanted to do well for others around me, to give them a better life, to give the people watching a better experience than some of the other people that infested the XWF and pro wrestling as a whole like rotting corpses.

But that was a motive that served the others around me. If and when I ever manage to complete this goal... what then? What would happen for me? Was there a silver lining for Finn Kühn himself?

I pursed my lips, humming and tapping my fingers on the armrest in tune with Skyla's still-drumming fingers on the steering wheel. I knew I still wanted to do what I was doing... but was my mental barrier trying to find a personal reason for self-satisfaction outside of all the titles and names I could label for myself?

"It's something worth thinking about, Finn," Skyla chimed in from the front seat. The line of cars began moving once more, and so did the rental car the three of us sat inside of. "Finding all the more motivation can be helpfu-"

Skyla suddenly cut herself off, looking into the rearview mirror in realization of what was coming. The cars ahead stopped, and so did us, but the car behind us was still wheeling along. Her eyes widened, and she whispered under her breath, "Don't you fuckin' dare...!"


THUD!


The event itself happened in what felt like slow motion. The car lurched forward ever so slightly, bumping us along with it. We, ourselves, were completely fine - the perks of such slow-moving traffic that was ongoing. However, the back bumper of the rental car received one solid dent on the point of impact.

Skyla's knuckles began turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

"U-Uhm, hey Skyla..." Christine said in a desperate attempt to calm down what was about to be incoming. "Maybe you should-"





The sound of a Scottish accent becoming FAR more noticeable than usual ripped me right out of my thoughts as Skyla began fiercely muttering under her breath, unbuckling her seatbelt and bringing herself right onto the street as she shouted at the top of her lungs, "YOU DAFT FUCKIN' CUNT!"

"Oh no..." both Christine and I felt ourselves muttering in unison. We both remained still within the rental car at that moment. We knew that we were spared from an actual car crash wreaking havoc about us, but perhaps the real wreckage would be ongoing outside at that very moment as shouting and honking could be heard outside.

"THAT WAS A RENTAL CAR, YA SHITTY BAWBAG!"

The shouts of fierce German and broken English flooded through the air in response to the stark-mad woman's march forward as a young man got out of his car. "What is problem you have?! Du krasse Schlampe, du hast wohl nicht mehr alle Tassen im Schrank!"

"YER GONNA BE THE ONE TO EXPLAIN WHAHAPPENED 'ERE, YA JOBBY!"

"Why would I help you?! You are CRAZY woman!"

"AND YER DA SELLS AVON! NOW PICK UP YER BALLS AND-"

Gritting my teeth in a desperate attempt to block out the blaring horns coming from behind us, I looked to Christine and hoped for some level of innate support from her. Fists were likely about to start flying any second now, more than likely. However, much to my despair, she was already looking back at me as she quickly got out, "Not it!"

"..." The level of disgust my gaze had for the liaison sat beside me could not be properly placed into words. It shifted and morphed into a deep scowl, as I proceeded to start unbuckling my seatbelt and prepared myself to have to drag off the lion, so to speak. As I did so, I muttered to myself, "Thanks for nothing."

"Thank you, Fiiiiiinn!" Christine shouted behind me as I opened the door out.

"You are foul," I spat back at her while walking off.




Present Day


"One hour and fifty-two minutes."

"Over the course of one week, with four matches in total, and back-and-forth trips between the mainland US and Hawaii, I spent one hour and fifty-two minutes within the confines of the squared circle in an attempt to better myself and show the entire world what I was capable of."

"Within the near-two hours of action, I've faced some of the best the industry of pro wrestling has to offer. I've gone up against a man I had plenty of respect for in a former champion in Ned Kaye, and in spite of his own mental stupidity, I faced who will likely be a future champion in Goth. I went into Tara Fenix's Rumble match, and I stood toe-to-toe with and outlasted some of the best the industry has to offer."

"Holden Ross."

"Mike Mason."

"Giovanni Santana."

"Xavier Lux..."

"And not a damn soul could match my performance that night."

"And then, going back to Savage, on a night full of title changes and a Pay-Per-View-level card, do you know the match people were talking about most of all? It wasn't that wretched whore who I've beaten before in Jenny Myst winning the Xtreme champion. It wasn't Maddy Junior teaming up with his crush Angie Vaughn to win the tag titles. The only reason why they talked about the main event was that Dick Powers ended up dying before somehow making it back to Madness in the days after in one piece."

"The actual match people talked about was Finn Kühn going out there and stealing the show against Raion Kido. Finn Kühn went out there and he did far better than anyone gave him credit for. And though there was one other match in that span that I will get to, it was still more of the same in the end. Facing the best, and putting on the best performance."

"Now, at this point, one will probably be able to speak up and say 'Finn! You didn't exactly win any of these matches, so why are you bragging about them?"

"An excellent point. 'Almost' doesn't count for much in the world of pro wrestling. 'Almost' doesn't prove that you're better than your opponent. But I forged myself in the fires of those matches. I drove my broken, battered body through Hell to prove a point in that I was willing to do whatever it took in order to try bettering myself. You learn best through failure, as they say. And do you know what happened after that?"

"Two victories, just like that, and one of them came over the number one contender to the Universal Champion. Micheal Graves can try to make excuses about how genuine the win was all he wants, but the fact of the matter is, he knows on his best day his cheating won't buy him a win against me. On that night, I proved myself to be well and truly better, and there is not a damn thing anyone can say about that."

"So with all the rest in the world..."

"With all of the work I've been putting in on my end..."

"And wanting nothing more than to win and put all of this behind me, once and for all..."

"Imagine what I am going to do to the both of you."

"There are no disqualifications in this match. There are no count-outs in this match. There are no rules I have to worry about adhering to for the sake of a 'clean' victory, because so long as I get the win with my own two hands, I can do anything I want to."

"There will be no more asterisks for this match. There will be nothing stopping me from doing what I need to do. I'm going to go into Kansas City with a fire in my eyes, and this will be the first step on my coronation."

"Bank on it."









16 November 2022
Claudia Kühn's Home
Frankfurt, Germany


"Ach, Grüß Gott, Finn!" The tight bearhug Claudia Kühn wrapped me in as soon as I walked through the door was enough to practically crush my damn rib cage. Even though the old woman was pushing nearly 60, she took great care to keep her body in good condition. Her strength was downright deceptive in how much there was as I groaned out.

[meaning="'Hello, Aunt Claudia. How are you?' - Na is an informal expression meaning both hello and how are you?"]"Na, Tante Claudia. Wie gehts?"

"Oh, wunderbar, Finn! Especially now that I get to see you again!" Claudia said as she released the hug.

It took me a minute to realize what had happened, between being able to breathe again and my ears being far too used to English over the years again. Did Aunt Claudia just...?

"You learned English?" I asked, almost flabbergasted with a raise of an eyebrow. "I'm surprised. I knew you had trouble learning it, from what I've heard from Mother."

"It is... not so perfect," Claudia admitted in English that was only slightly broken, waving her hand in the meanwhile to show how her grasp of English was only 'so-so.' "I wanted to be good for if you ever came home to here! I figured you'd be so used to English, that Deutsch would be hard for you to use again!"

That... earned an exhale from me. As if my skill in my mother tongue would decay like that... but more importantly, how long did Aunt Claudia wait for me? The last time we had ever really spoke was... Mom's funeral, basically a decade ago. I was just becoming an adult by that time, and I remembered her for not being able to speak a lick of English, but she was basically the closest thing to the remaining head of the family. Dad spoke a lot about her when we were at home, but until now... I just tried dismissing it.

"I'm... pleased that you did so much to plan for me," I said in an attempt to keep my English basic so my Aunt could understand properly. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"Oh, Finn. It's fine, I don't blame you. Please come along now, and I can make sure food is ready for later." Claudia gestured for me to come along, her posture straight as the small yet fanciful bungalow seemed rather inviting. "I had seen you wrestling again! I know you speak with some friends now. Did they come along for this trip?"

"They had... business in the area," I quickly responded. I figured I'd spare Claudia the insane stories of Skyla's training plans. If she even knew about those stupid candy bars... "They wanted to tend to that first, and I decided I'd meet with you again while we were alone instead so that we could... catch up."

Claudia gave an approving hum while we walked, and gestured for me to sit down at the dining room table. Well... so far, so good, at least. I still wasn't sure about this, but at least things felt... okay. I still didn't think reconciling with my family would be what would get past this mental barrier in my mind like Skyla kept going on about, but I could at least try stomaching through a meeting like this if it meant we could try something else later.

Speaking of, Claudia went right into the nearby kitchen. With no walls getting in the way, we could freely keep speaking as she peered into her turned-on oven, checking the progress of her dish in there.

"Speaking of your friends, I hear you get along with them well! Do you have your eye on one of them...?"

"Wh- N-Nee! I mean... I haven't been seeing anyone like that!" Bringing Claudia's laughter out of my senses, I quickly shook my head as I felt my cheeks practically catching on fire. Being into Christine or Skyla like that... Christine and I had such a fragile peace as it was, and I didn't think we were compatible like that in the slightest. Skyla... maybe if she wasn't as crazy as she was, there might be something there, but I barely even considered her like that. I was always more focused on my training than looking at her like that.

"I'm only joking, Finn. It's nice to see you laugh like that, though." What did she mean by tha- "Now then, while I have Käsespätzle being baked, I figure I should show you something."

"What do you mean?" I asked while sitting up.

"Give me one second, if you don't mind..." Aunt Claudia took things upon herself to quickly scurry into the other room, clearly intending on bringing something out...

...

And then, there was silence again.




Present Day


"Of course, I'm not going to beat around the bush any longer. The last match I had in the aforementioned week was against none other than Buster Gloves back at the Tara Fenix Charity Event, and I lost. I have no problem admitting that. On that night, he was superior. He used his emotions to his advantage, and I couldn't keep up with him given the rigors of my earlier matches."

"Buster once called me his peer. His 'ring equal.' I think it goes deeper than that. I think, in spite of our differences, our similarities are there. I believe that deep down, we are two sides of the same coin. We both try to fight with honor, with tact, with dignity. We both fight to try to escape our past. In that vein, I respect him. I respect him for trying to walk his own path, fight the people he feels he needs to face in order to get his World title shot."

"But there's a difference between us. One notable thing that will set us apart."

"Buster Gloves fights the people on his list because he sees them as his obstacle. His mind is single-focused. Incensed on them. Because he wants his World title shot more than anything despite seeing himself - by his own words, mind you - as nothing special. It's his one shot at greatness that will come for him."

"My Road of the King paves itself through any and all who are deemed fit. Any former champion who walks in the XWF's halls are on there. It doesn't discriminate. It doesn't go against anything of the sort. And because it is as expansive as it can be, I don't hyper-focus on any specific target. They're not all I think about. I'm not losing sleep thinking about getting my hands on any one specific champion unless if they've done something to cross me."

"And I walk on my Road of the King for the sake of betterment. A man once said 'in order to be the man, you've got to beat the man,' and I plan on beating every man in front of me."

"Buster's way of looking at things is flawed. Because of the fact that he focuses only on those eight targets, it starts opening himself up to mistakes. For instance, you take a look at his match with Xavier Lux on Savage. This isn't just me trying to point out his failures and say he sucks because of it - but it's the way he lost. A last-ditch effort by Lux kept himself in the match, and Buster didn't think for a second that somehow Lux would be able to keep going, but he did. A taste of false success was enough for him to drop his guard, and Lux capitalized and got the pin."

"And now guess what's going to happen? Buster's going to go into that ring and focus all of his effort, all of his attention onto Peter Vaughn because he's the man who fooled him, who started this entire charade live starting on Pay-Per-View, and he's going to make a beeline on him. He's going to think he's got Vaughn down and out, and think he's got this match won, just like he did on Lux. The difference is how his party is going to be spoiled."

"It's going to be spoiled by me."

"If we're anything like each other, Buster, then you'd know I don't back down towards anything. That isn't going to change, even here. Because this is a match I need to win. Not just for the sake of beating Peter Vaughn, but to settle the matter between us once and for all. My win against you at Relentless can hardly count now, all things considered. If anything, you hold the upper hand over me record-wise now."

"This entire time, I've been trying to surpass myself. I've seen the similarities with myself in Isaiah King, Ned Kaye, and you... It's not even the me that's reached the mountaintop that I need to prove I'm better than, it's the me that only managed to come close and yet so far. That's all I've been able to do up to this point. But I know I'm better than that."

"Because every single time I look in the mirror, every single time I try to fall asleep, I always just end up thinking about what could have been. What should have been. But there is no room in life for could-haves, should-haves and if-onlys. I need to walk down a new path in life. The path provided to me by the Road of the King."

"That path is going to continue when I win at Bad Medicine. So be ready, Buster."




16 November 2022
Claudia Kühn's Home
Frankfurt, Germany


"Here it is!" Claudia declared with gusto in her voice as the weathered, dusty old tome was placed on the table. With a loud blow from her mouth, much of the dust scattered away and into the air, leaving me to peer at it with a curious expression.

"What is this...?" I asked.

"Oh, it's... nothing major. It's a... picture book, of your father and I with the rest of our family when we were children. I only just found it recently, but I figured... you'd like to see it. I know you never got the goodbye with him that you wanted..." Claudia looked back up at me, offering me a warm, genuine smile.

My heart felt like it froze. No, it was frozen ever since I stepped inside this home.

Seeing Dad like that... this entire time, every time I thought about him, my mind always ended up driving itself to him on his death bed. It horrified me. To sit and stew in that dread. To watch as the man who tried to give you the best life possible suffered in his sleep, suffering from kidney failure as all the liquid pooled in his body to turn him into some pudgy mess with his tongue lulling out of his body and knowing you couldn't care for him and you couldn't help him and you could only watch leading up to this point as he forgot your name and who you ever were-

I blinked. I took a deep breath. I calmed my quivering hands, trying to guide myself back into reality and resist the urge to let things out. I had to... try and keep strong. That wasn't an issue. It was a decade ago. I've moved on. I've moved on. I've moved on. I've moved o-

"That sounds good," I nodded. "If you'd like, then... I'd be happy to."

Claudia gave me a sad smile and shook her head. The hesitation and sorrow were evident in my eyes. The bulletproof persona I was trying desperately to keep up was shattering.

"It's okay," she nodded. "He loved you, Finn. I hope you know that. Both he and your mother. Before... before Dirk's mind was bad" - in this moment I was able to just ignore the poor grammar from Claudia given her still-growing handle on the language and just listened - "he used to call me every now and again and we'd catch up. You'd always be something we talked about, Finn. He had such high hopes for you. And he knew - he knew you could do it. He always brought up how you wanted to go into wrestling, and..."

Claudia's voice trailed off, fading as she looked at the scrapbook. "I miss him too. I never got to say goodbye, too. So maybe, this will help us both."

In that moment, what felt like a truly extraordinary weight was beginning to lift itself off of my shoulders as I nodded.

"Please," I whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears beginning to well up in my eyes. "I... I'd like that, more than anything."

Claudia turned to me one last time, and behind her own tearful eyes, she smiled and nodded at me.

And so, she turned the book open to the first page.




Present Day


"Peter Vaughn is a main event-level talent with a midcarder's mindset."

"He has a special talent. Put his silver tongue to good use to make himself look as good as possible, to cast doubt on his opponents, and let those seeds grow so he can try to win. He makes himself look like the hero of his own story, and you know what? Maybe others might be able to see him as a hero... but then he throws it away by just cheating."

"It's disgusting. It's hypocritical. It's repulsive. Peter Vaughn is the antithesis of what I stand for. He babbles on and on and on, but at the end of the day he uses his cheating as a mere crutch to try and get the job done. But that crutch gets taken away when it comes to matches where his opponents show no problem sinking to the same depths he goes to, especially in a no-disqualification match. Just ask Charlie Nickles, why don't you?"

"It's a shame. Because I meant what I said about him being a main event talent, but he refuses to just... better himself and instead plays along with fanciful fairytales! Instead of earning his way through his title defenses, interferences in his favor and cheap tactics are the norm."

"You know what I think, Vaughn?"

"You're pathetic."

"Empty."

"Hollow."

"You look at a title and you gravitate towards it. You clutch onto it with your cold, dead, clammy hands because you crave success. You crave success more than anything for the sake of it. Because it lets you know that your life isn't a failure. It reminds you you're more than just the janitor that you were in the past. It lets you bask in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, the first maybe... the first decades of your life weren't just a waste."

"So you cling to a title like it's your lifeline, and you try manipulating everything around you with those seeds of doubt, to make others think you're as good as you try to make yourself seem. Even when it's just so, blatantly obvious."

"I'm going to even call it right now. I don't know what Peter Vaughn's said, but I'm willing to bet you money that he's going to come up with some garbage lie about how I never objected to the result at Relentless, how I was fine to just go along my merry way and enjoy the win."

"How do I know this? Because Ned had this same exact talking point himself. And if Ned thought this was a somehow salient talking point, you would have too. And if that was the case, then others were probably going to chime in, thinking it's some grand 'aha!' moment that will surely reveal me as a fraud. And if anyone cared to do some research - even though we all know Pete and the truth don't exactly mix - he'd know that I never was willing to just bask in a tainted win."

(09-25-2022, 05:27 PM)Finn Kühn After Relentless Night 3 Said: Finn's expression turned into that of a scowl as he looked at Sayors. "I said it before when I was gearing up to face Lexi Gold and John Black, and I'll say it again. I despise cheating. There is no glory to be gained in that ring with dubious means like that. I'm going to figure out who got involved in my business, and if Buster Gloves - and yes, I'm going to say his name out of respect for the man who brought it out there tonight - thinks I was responsible in the slightest for that, then he can meet me in the ring on Warfare while I'll be out there talking, and we can discuss this like grown-ass adults."

"Well, that's... certainly an answer then..." Sayors managed to stumble out, straightening himself under Finn's harsh glare. "Oh, but if I may... you'll be talking on Warfare? What about?"

"Simple," Finn said. "For too long I've been trying to figure out my next move in this company now that I'm back, and intending to prove I'm better than ever."

"Before my match on the next Warfare, I intend to show everyone how I plan on doing so while I figure out who got involved in my match at Relentless."

"So that would explain why I decided it was okay after all to jump through hoops and help Buster out, because I wanted to know the truth alongside of him, huh? Oops."

"Let's face it, Vaughn. You can't even lie right to save your life."

"You're a fraud."

"A sham."

"A writhing, pathetic, disgusting maggot."

"If you want to manipulate Buster into believing you after I showed him the truth, then by all means. It doesn't change facts. Your little scheme is crumbling down right in front of your eyes. I'm going to beat you, and him, because at the end of the day it's a Triple Threat match and I have no qualms with saying it's going to be every man for himself in there."

"I'm going to place this into perspective for you, hypocrite, because I don't think you understand the predicament you're in that began as soon as you entered yourself into my business."

"I will make you watch as I make you bleed."

"I will make you see me as I break your damn arm."

"I will make you see every ounce of false progress you've accumulated in your career crumble to bits."

"And you will know that this - all of this - is your fault. You did this from the start. All of this happened because. Of. You."

"You will come to grips with that fact and realize the fact that your miserable life is going to fall down because of the consequences of your actions. You'll realize that in the end, your talent is going to go to waste, and you'll realize that at the end of the day..."

"You're just a janitor, Pete."

"Then, and only then, will I pin you."

]]> <![CDATA[Silence.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45158 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 23:58:44 -0800 Isaiah King]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45158 [Image: giphy.gif?cid=790b7611fb8c4d24ebd39a817a...y.gif&ct=g]

Isaiah King Corporation Said:The following is a work of art, a visceral experience, an unparalleled masterpiece produced by Isaiah King Corporation. It will be best enjoyed along with its musical accompaniment and your full attention, any less and you should be ashamed of yourself. Try to keep your hand(s) out of your pants, if you can - you have been warned.









“Silence.

It’s thick in the air.

Silence.

It’s all I hear.

Silence.

Where have you been?

Silence.

A cowards tool.

Silence.

Marf Swaysons.

Silence.

It’s all you bring to the table.”

Your screen flickers to life after the eerie, yet velvety voice of Isaiah King opens up the promo you’re watching. Your heart flutters, before it stops at a close of your Television Champion. Your screen is filled with just his spotless, perfect face. His face, stoic and serious. His face, prepared for Bad Medicine. A single drop of sweat runs down his face, falling off his chiselled chin and your screen, as he opens his mouth.

There seems to be a man in a hat that he's speaking to, but he's definitely speaking to you. Yes, you Marf.

[Image: 4a23cfc5b43422c7babbd09985b0c4e2413da0bc.gifv]

“Where have you been Marf?

We had what, weeks, to prepare for this battle and you’ve been doing what…? Not a single squeak from your lips.

If my opponent was anyone else I’d expect them to be training hard.

Fear gripping their heart and adrenaline pumping through their veins at the thought of having to go toe to toe with the fastest rising, hardest hitting, most passionate wrestler the XWF has seen in months, years even?

Yet with you.. With your lacklustre, lazy, unfocused and undevoted patheticness… I expect you were somewhere drunk outta your head and drowning your directionless life with a battle of scotch to not feel useless anymore.

I’m sick and tired of facing men and women who look past this title into some future they think they deserve.

I’m sick and tired of facing the scum of this business who have a misplaced hope in grander future.

No champion drops the ball this hard on an opportunity for victory.

No respectable human being looks out for something that doesn’t exist.

No wrestler is more preoccupied with trash-talking the disgusting likes of Michael Graves and Jenny Myst than preparing to not die in the ring with me.

Your lack of concern for our match will cost you dearly Marf.

It’ll cost you whatever ounce of dignity you have left.

It’ll cost you the shreds of a career you still cling to.

It’ll definitely cost you any hope of a title ever again in your career.

Hell, when you’re in the ring with me…

It might even cost you your life… If I feel like it.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to ramble on for another five minutes - you don’t deserve that much.

I’ve spent the last week training to kick your ass harder than it’s ever been kicked before. I’ve trained to make an example out of you infront of the thousands in attendance and the millions watching at home.

I’m going to make an example out of you infront of the XWF brass and maybe, just fucking maybe, they’ll give me an opponent that actually gives a shit about this business and this title.

I’m going to plough through this business and destroy every single directionless slug until they do.

I’m going to make this worthless title worth something - and you Marf, you are going to give me the blood and sweat to make this title shine brighter than any title in this god-forsaken company.

I’m done with you.

You’re done with you.

The XWF is done with you.”

Black.

Oooh, spooky. Isaiah is not in a good mood, hope you’re ready Swaysons.]]> [Image: giphy.gif?cid=790b7611fb8c4d24ebd39a817a...y.gif&ct=g]

Isaiah King Corporation Said:The following is a work of art, a visceral experience, an unparalleled masterpiece produced by Isaiah King Corporation. It will be best enjoyed along with its musical accompaniment and your full attention, any less and you should be ashamed of yourself. Try to keep your hand(s) out of your pants, if you can - you have been warned.









“Silence.

It’s thick in the air.

Silence.

It’s all I hear.

Silence.

Where have you been?

Silence.

A cowards tool.

Silence.

Marf Swaysons.

Silence.

It’s all you bring to the table.”

Your screen flickers to life after the eerie, yet velvety voice of Isaiah King opens up the promo you’re watching. Your heart flutters, before it stops at a close of your Television Champion. Your screen is filled with just his spotless, perfect face. His face, stoic and serious. His face, prepared for Bad Medicine. A single drop of sweat runs down his face, falling off his chiselled chin and your screen, as he opens his mouth.

There seems to be a man in a hat that he's speaking to, but he's definitely speaking to you. Yes, you Marf.

[Image: 4a23cfc5b43422c7babbd09985b0c4e2413da0bc.gifv]

“Where have you been Marf?

We had what, weeks, to prepare for this battle and you’ve been doing what…? Not a single squeak from your lips.

If my opponent was anyone else I’d expect them to be training hard.

Fear gripping their heart and adrenaline pumping through their veins at the thought of having to go toe to toe with the fastest rising, hardest hitting, most passionate wrestler the XWF has seen in months, years even?

Yet with you.. With your lacklustre, lazy, unfocused and undevoted patheticness… I expect you were somewhere drunk outta your head and drowning your directionless life with a battle of scotch to not feel useless anymore.

I’m sick and tired of facing men and women who look past this title into some future they think they deserve.

I’m sick and tired of facing the scum of this business who have a misplaced hope in grander future.

No champion drops the ball this hard on an opportunity for victory.

No respectable human being looks out for something that doesn’t exist.

No wrestler is more preoccupied with trash-talking the disgusting likes of Michael Graves and Jenny Myst than preparing to not die in the ring with me.

Your lack of concern for our match will cost you dearly Marf.

It’ll cost you whatever ounce of dignity you have left.

It’ll cost you the shreds of a career you still cling to.

It’ll definitely cost you any hope of a title ever again in your career.

Hell, when you’re in the ring with me…

It might even cost you your life… If I feel like it.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to ramble on for another five minutes - you don’t deserve that much.

I’ve spent the last week training to kick your ass harder than it’s ever been kicked before. I’ve trained to make an example out of you infront of the thousands in attendance and the millions watching at home.

I’m going to make an example out of you infront of the XWF brass and maybe, just fucking maybe, they’ll give me an opponent that actually gives a shit about this business and this title.

I’m going to plough through this business and destroy every single directionless slug until they do.

I’m going to make this worthless title worth something - and you Marf, you are going to give me the blood and sweat to make this title shine brighter than any title in this god-forsaken company.

I’m done with you.

You’re done with you.

The XWF is done with you.”

Black.

Oooh, spooky. Isaiah is not in a good mood, hope you’re ready Swaysons.]]> <![CDATA[Dadada, dada....uh wut?]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45157 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 23:56:43 -0800 Atara Raven]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45157 Maybe we were fresh from a commercial break or you were just tuning in, who knows, but the all to familiar backdrop of the ESPN sports desk illuminates the screen. Futbol and football is all the rage currently with Vinnie Lanes LFL and the World Cup being either in the beginning stages or in full gear so naturally our majority male demo is tuning in for all the football and futbol news their minds can handle but our 24/7 news cycle and sports coverage anchors are missing.

Empty anchor chairs...spinning.

Empty.

Spinning.

Empty and spinning.










Empty




Spinning.


As if if someone was just there and suddenly for one reason or another disappeared to do something else. Better maybe?

Maybe not?


Who knows, but these chairs are empty and spinning like dj turntables and no news is being blasted at you like it wouldn't be repeated on every broadcast from now until the next football player caught a charge or the next futbol star didn't sign with AEK because they can't handle Super League Greece.

Maybe it wasn't even a news thing but a topical setting for a promo were a married couple were really snide and witty and commented on the card of a premier live event. Like in a parody fashion that everyone would totally get because we all watch the same shit and definitely get all the inside jokes. Especially the innuendos, like how a Canadian's D-fense really pounded my spread offense and I couldn't stop him from going deep or all the other football puns I stole from tik tok in the storyboarding of this thing?

Maybe there would have been albino jokes, prison jokes, nerdy virgin jokes, maybe some actual sports statistics with regurgitated wins and losses and highlight reel footage of past promos to pick apart kind of like a normal promo but better because it was themed and topical but we already covered that part at the beginning.

Maybe?

Did we?

Idk but these chairs are still empty and spinning and there's no anchor telling any vibrant, verbose, detailed, fanciful version of someones imagination.


They sure as hell ain't making pigeon puns.

Maybe it would have been the best sports coverage of all time. Maybe it would have been the best sports parody of all time.
Maybe someones wife should stop signing her and her husband up for stuff and then goes to get shit faced at the club when it times to work? 
Or maybe she should be a little more cold hearted and fuck over a competitor when they're partner drops the ball?
These chairs are spinning. 
This room is spinning....
I'm off my face I don't know where I am.... 



[Image: QdqWjWi.gif]]]> Maybe we were fresh from a commercial break or you were just tuning in, who knows, but the all to familiar backdrop of the ESPN sports desk illuminates the screen. Futbol and football is all the rage currently with Vinnie Lanes LFL and the World Cup being either in the beginning stages or in full gear so naturally our majority male demo is tuning in for all the football and futbol news their minds can handle but our 24/7 news cycle and sports coverage anchors are missing.

Empty anchor chairs...spinning.

Empty.

Spinning.

Empty and spinning.










Empty




Spinning.


As if if someone was just there and suddenly for one reason or another disappeared to do something else. Better maybe?

Maybe not?


Who knows, but these chairs are empty and spinning like dj turntables and no news is being blasted at you like it wouldn't be repeated on every broadcast from now until the next football player caught a charge or the next futbol star didn't sign with AEK because they can't handle Super League Greece.

Maybe it wasn't even a news thing but a topical setting for a promo were a married couple were really snide and witty and commented on the card of a premier live event. Like in a parody fashion that everyone would totally get because we all watch the same shit and definitely get all the inside jokes. Especially the innuendos, like how a Canadian's D-fense really pounded my spread offense and I couldn't stop him from going deep or all the other football puns I stole from tik tok in the storyboarding of this thing?

Maybe there would have been albino jokes, prison jokes, nerdy virgin jokes, maybe some actual sports statistics with regurgitated wins and losses and highlight reel footage of past promos to pick apart kind of like a normal promo but better because it was themed and topical but we already covered that part at the beginning.

Maybe?

Did we?

Idk but these chairs are still empty and spinning and there's no anchor telling any vibrant, verbose, detailed, fanciful version of someones imagination.


They sure as hell ain't making pigeon puns.

Maybe it would have been the best sports coverage of all time. Maybe it would have been the best sports parody of all time.
Maybe someones wife should stop signing her and her husband up for stuff and then goes to get shit faced at the club when it times to work? 
Or maybe she should be a little more cold hearted and fuck over a competitor when they're partner drops the ball?
These chairs are spinning. 
This room is spinning....
I'm off my face I don't know where I am.... 



[Image: QdqWjWi.gif]]]> <![CDATA[Just Need 1 More]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45156 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 23:55:45 -0800 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45156
Well well well…..now that we’re alone, can you talk to me again?

Chief Nickleman leaned forward curiously, his optimistic expression lingering for a few seconds before being replaced by a scold and a sneer. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, Indian style!

Really? You’re going to keep pleading the fifth? How fucking typical.

Chief Nickleman shook his head from side to side with disdain.

You want to act up and ruin my family's first day of Hanukkah celebrations, but now that you’re being held accountable for your actions you go quiet? Who are you: me?!

The Nickleman chuckles to himself before bringing his arms down onto the table and clasping his hands together. He lets out a soft sigh before lifting his gaze back up to whatever is sitting directly across the table from him.

See motherfucker, I can get away with acting out and then hushing up because I’m the CHIEF round’ these parts, ya hear? I can cause a fucking ruckus, spill some body fluids, and then lift my hands up innocently because I’m the one and only Nickleman, and I run this fucking territory. Who’s going to stop me? YOU?! Pfffft.

The Nickleman rolled his eyes exaggeratedly to demonstrate the absurdity of the claim.

You? You could never stop me. You could never do anything of the sort. At best, you’re a perpetual annoyance. You’re a little flea just nipping on my ballsack, hoping to drain an ounce of greatness from me. It will never happen!

You hearing me, boy?

NEVER!

The Nickleman stared down whatever was across the table from him. The most decorated fighter in contemporary wrestling clenched his fists into balls as he gritted his teeth.

So just who the fuck do you think you are? Fucking with The Nickleman is a DEATH SENTENCE for anyone, man or machine!

Chief Nickleman let his threat linger in the air for a few moments before he shifted around in his chair.

I’ve been on every stage in this world, from Backyard Roller Rinks all the way to Madison Square Garden and back. I headline the greatest shows because my name on a poster alone is worth my weight in gold. Shit, I’ve won so much championship gold from so many federations this year that I’m starting to lose count! I’m kicking up dust and drawing out enemies from every fucking inch of this business….but just exactly where the fuck did you come from, eh?

What’s your beef with The Chief?

The Nickleman squinted across the table before finally throwing his hands up in frustration and standing from his seat.

Fine….you don’t want to talk? I have other ways to find out about you, don’t you fucking worry for one minute.

Before The Nickleman walks over to the only door in the room, the camera zooms out just enough to show both ends of the table. Finally, after all this teasing and foreplay, we see the pseudo-sentient creature resting on the table across from The Nickleman. But before I just TELL you what’s on the other side of the table....what did you THINK was there? Do you pay enough attention to simply know?

You’re the worst fucking radio ever!

As The Nickleman slams the door shut we see a vintage radio resting on the table quietly.

God damn piece of junk…

Chief Nickleman shakes his head from side to side, clearly disgruntled with the state of things, as he walks away from what appears to be a closet door. As The Nickleman leaves the closet the camera switches perspectives, and now we are treated to a point-of-view just behind Charlie’s shoulders.

The Nickleman walks away from the closet and towards a row of chairs situated in a semi-circle in front of an antique television set. We see a slew of OCW, IIW, and XWF championship belts all resting in their own chairs quite cozily, with blankets and throw pillows and everything! Directly in the middle of the championship circle rests Charlie’s most prestigious prize, the XWF Supercontinental championship. A princess tiara has been placed atop the belt’s chair and a small gift wrapped box has been placed between it’s leather straps. The camera switches to a neutral perspective as The Nickleman kneels down in front of his precious Connie. He lets out a long sigh as he caresses her championship plates.

So baby….what’s up with that radio you got me for Kwanzaa? It was all about interrupting us while we set up the tree, but now it’s all radio silence. Is there a remote or something for it? Does it need new batteries?

Chief Nickleman cocks a curious eyebrow when his ‘Connie’ responds.

Wait….what do you mean you didn’t get me that radio to celebrate the Winter Solstice? Are you saying one of these floozies actually bought me a gift?

Charlie gestured mindlessly towards his collection of OCW & IIW championship belts. The Nickleman squinted in confusion after ‘Connie’ responded to him again with even more sounds of silence.

Some strange man brought it into our home in the middle of the night? What the hell…why didn’t you tell me?! That sounds like a total security risk! You should have screamed as soon as you saw the intruder! What if he was going to molest you, or even kidnap you!

The Chief continued to plead with his championship belt as she justified her silence to him.

He smelled like……cheddar? And he looked like Jesus? What does that even mean, baby?

The Nickleman looked at his belt in confusion before shaking his head from side to side.

You know what….this isn’t making any sense. None of this is making any sense! We’d better watch that footage back again, maybe we’ll uncover some more clues if we watch it again and pay close attention. Maybe it wasn’t ever talking to us at all, maybe I just smoked too much fentanyl last week or something. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

The Nickleman stood up and walked over to the antique TV set against the wall, facing the semi-circle of championships. Beneath the TV you can see the old XWF video drone from the last promo, laying on the ground completely dismantled. Inside of the TV set you can see a VHS cartridge, and Charlie presses ‘play’ on the TV before walking back to stand next to Connie.

Chief Nickles crosses his arms and watches curiously as the videotape begins to play back all the action from last week’s promotional material. The only problem? There’s no audio on the tape! The Nickleman throws his hands up in frustration as the footage plays back without any sound.

I swear to God we have the worst audio/video team in all of professional wrestling! First someone fucked up all the footage of Finn Kuhn aborting Buster Gloves, and now someone’s fucking up all my personal footage, too! This is getting ridiculous!

The Nickleman walks over to the TV in a huff before clicking the power button, turning it off. The Nickleman reaches into his loincloth and pulls out a cellphone covered in pubes and suspicious fluids. He presses the numbers ‘6-6-6’ on his speed dial before holding the phone up to his mangled earhole. The Nickleman covers up the mic on the phone before speaking softly to Connie.

I’m calling management right now, and we’re going to get to the bottom of this! This is the night before the big pay per view event, and there’s no way these idiots have anything better to do than answer my phone calls!

The Nickleman takes his hand off the mic as he turns his focus back to the phone call at hand. After nearly a minute of ringing, The Nickleman hears a sudden ‘click’ as the call goes to voicemail.

FUCK!

“Hello! You've reached the voice mailbox of Liam Desmond, Head of the XWF's Department of Video Archives and Savage General Manager! I'm either on an important business meeting, or I'm trying my hand on my brand new Plenty of Fish account! Please leave your message after the beep, and I'll get right back to you!”

YOU LAZY CUNT! YOU NEVER ANSWER MY FUCKING PHONECALLS, YOU BITCH! I’M STILL WAITING FOR YOU TO SEND ME ALL THE SECRET FOOTAGE FROM THE WOMEN’S RESTROOM, YOU ASSHOLE! AND NOW I NEED EVEN MORE FOOTAGE!

FUCKING CALL ME BACK YOU PRICK!

The Nickleman slams his phone shut and shakes his head angrily. He looks back towards his arsenal of athletic achievement with a sour tone to his voice.

Can you believe this shit? I’m the XWF’s biggest home-grown star since Doc-d’fucking-Ville, and I can’t even get the the god damned video archivist to call me back! That’s crazy. What’s he even doing all day- just assembling all my highlights into viral clips? Fucking lazy sack of shit! He should be servicing ME! Directly and on demand!

Ugh. It’s like you girls are the only ones who have any gratitude for what I bring to this business.

The Nickleman’s rageful frown turned upside down as he stared at his life’s greatest joys. A soft smile spread across this crackhead’s cracked lips.

Oh you girls…you crazy girls are the only thing keeping me sane any more.

The Nickleman calmed himself down by going in a row and touching every one of his championship belts. The feeling of their cold metal upon his warm palm always soothed him, like extra-strength vicodin for his broken soul. Charlie had given up everything in his life to get to this precipice, and now that he was here, he would never go back. His children, his lovers, and his friends always came at him with their expectations, desires, and dreams, as if they should somehow matter to The Nickleman.

But championship gold? Championship gold expected nothing from The Nickleman except his inherent greatness. Championship gold could never betray The Nickleman the way that lovers have, the way that friends have, the way that his children surely would. To The Nickleman, love with a championship belt was worth far more than any love another human could provide. Championship gold won’t ruin your night crying about all the money you blew on hookers and drugs. Championship gold won’t try to stab you for fucking it’s sister, and it won’t give you the cold shoulder for forgetting it’s birthday. To Charlie, this type of one-sided love was a dream come true.

After touching each and every championship belt in his possession, The Nickleman began lingering next to his favorite championship: the XWF Supercontinental belt. The most virgin of all the aforementioned titles, there was something about the Supercon’s innocence that attracted The Nickleman to it in particular. Charlie licked his lips as he ran his fingers across the leather straps of his favorite title. These straps had barely been touched, barely been held by any other wrestlers: they were practically brand new in the eyes of The Nickleman.

And to him that meant this belt was his, in particular, to defile and to define.

You’re my most precious….my one true love….

The XWF Supercontinental Championship belt rested peacefully on it’s chair beneath the princess tiara, still gripping that small gift wrapped box inside of its leathery clutches. The Nickleman dropped down to one knee before reaching up for the box and slowly unwrapping it with a gentle twinkle in his eye.

So, Connie…..you know what this is, don’t you?

Chief Nickleman cracks a big ol’ smile as he finally unwraps the small box. The camera zooms in on the branded packaging, showing that this small box originally came from Helzberg Diamonds. The Nickleman flips the top of the box open to reveal an incredibly extravagant ring with a huge diamond stone setting and 6 emeralds embedded into it’s golden band. The shit looks like it must have cost a fucking fortune!

Connie, will you make me the happiest man in the world by saying yes?

The Nickleman waits on his knee in silence, staring up at the XWF championship with unusual tenderness in his eyes and unlimited love in his heart. A long period of silence goes by before The Nickleman suddenly starts jumping up and down with joy, doing his best Daniel Bryan impression.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

The Nickleman eagerly slides the expensive ring into the small, moist space between Connie’s championship plate and her leather strap.

I’ll stick this in your gash for safekeeping!

The Nickleman slid the ring into the championship belt with a perverted smirk stretched across his face.

You like the way that feels, babygirl?

The Nickleman winks at his belt before picking her up, placing her around his chest, and then sitting back down in the chair with her. The other championship belts probably look on with jealousy, because why wouldn’t they be envious of Connie’s top-bitch treatment? Still, The Nickleman pays the other championship belts no mind at all: he’s far too engrossed by his precious Connie.

So babygirl, are you excited to watch me in action tomorrow night? I know how you love watching me defend your honor.

The Nickleman stares down at his Connie with a sicko’s smile, but that tender smile soon shifts back to a patented Nickleman frown.

What do you mean you’re worried? What are you worried about, baby? You know I’ll always be here for you, my devotion is my guarantee!

The Nickleman listened to Connie’s deepest, darkest fears without judgment. Ha, just kidding! Of course he’s judging this stupid bitch- but he’s also trying to be polite to her!

Oh baby, no! There’s absolutely no way I’d ever let Ned Kaye take you away from me. Who do you think he is, sweetheart? He’s not even a bad joke, he’s so bland that he’s just another vanilla cakewalk!

I mean seriously, sweetheart, why do you think Ned Kaye even has a chance tomorrow night?

The not-so-Indian Chief cocked his head to the side as he listened to her tranquil reply.

Because you listened to his promos and he said he hates me, and because he said he’s a ‘better person’ than me?

………

So what? What’s that got to do with wrestling, babe?

The Nickleman rolled his eyes as he dismissed Connie’s silly notion with a simple click of his tongue.

Wrestling ain’t about ethics or morals, alright? Shit’s barely even about athletics, nowadays pro wrestling has devolved into sideshow bloodsports- just the way I like it! If wrestling was about integrity and decency, well then fuck, why would Mark Flynn be the universal champion? That man literally killed his tag team partner and used his rotting corpse as a fucking stepping stone: and he holds the 2nd best prize in this whole industry!

Behind you, of course, babydoll…

The Nickleman blows a playful kiss at his championship belt before carrying on with his anti-Ned diatribe.

Jenny Myst even holds the X-treme title, and that bitch has more hair than honor!

I don’t know what fantasy world Ned Kaye thinks he’s living in, but it isn’t the fucking X-W-F.

I mean come on, baby- where’s the honor and integrity in a fucking strap match?

Chief Nickles lets the audience sit with the question for a moment before he divulges his own twisted answer.

In a strap match, the only thing honor and integrity are gonna do’ for ya is get ya killed. This stipulation is just fucking barbaric, you know? They’re tying Kitty-Kat Kaye up next to this sick puppy, everyone already knows I’m going to maul this motherfucker with no remorse. Where’s the fucking decency in a dogfighting ring, Ned? The only decent thing about this match are the fucking ODDS! You can bet the house on The Nickleman and walk away with a whole nother’ fucking house right now!

Ned Kaye can come at me with all the morality and integrity he wants, but the fact of the matter is that guy needs to wear three cups and a couple of eyepatches down to the ring- because I’m going to be kicking him in the balls and raking his eyes out all night long! How the fuck is he going to get away from me? How the fuck will his honor handle that?!

How many kicks to the nuts will it take before Ned’s honorable manhood shrivels up from the torsion?

The Nickleman grins to himself at the thought of causing Ned’s ballsack to literally explode from repeated force.

Ned Kaye’s head is so far up his own ass he can’t even see past his own BULLSHIT any more! Ned Kaye thinks I’m dissatisfied with my position in this business? Ned Kaye is telling people that I ‘blame my failures on others’......

The Nickleman looks around the room full of his championship gold collection.

Well, I gotta ask….WHAT FUCKING FAILURES IS HE TALKING ABOUT?!?! Because I sure as fuck haven’t noticed any! Ever since August I’ve been on a FUCKING ROLL in the XWF, and by that I mean I’ve been FUCKING ROLLING THROUGH the competition! Peter Vaughn? Nah, he’s Peter GONE now, bitch! I’m still riding high after my marquee wins against Mark Flynn, Dolly Waters, Jenny Myst- and I did that shit all on the same fucking night. Then, I beat Peter Vaughn and won another OCW championship belt in his dishonor, too, just for the fuck of it!

Ned said I have a million excuses…but what the fuck do I need to excuse? I don’t need a SOLUTION to jackshit, because the very OXYGEN I BREATH IS ACIDIC! My words alone corrode and corrupt….so just imagine what my fists can do.

You know firsthand how big my fists feel, doncha’ Connie?

Chief Nickles flashed a sick wink to his belt, reminding her of all their bouts of voracious lovemaking.

Connie, I promise you can rest assured that you will be coming back home with me tomorrow night. Ned Kaye can throw as many punches my way as he wants, the truth is not a single one of his jabs is going to land. He just can’t do any damage to me, baby, and that’s why he’s never going to beat me.

Ever.

Ned Kaye is walking into this match with the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, and the funny part is, he’s the one that put it there! Ned can’t help but make things hard- nay, impossible for himself. I guess he’s always had this habit, though, so nobody can say this comes as a surprise. Ned chose to take the hard way with his briefcase, because Ned cares more about looking classy than being a champion.

And guess what? It’s the same fucking story this time around!

Ned couldn’t just go into this match looking to win: no, he needed to prove a point. For Ned Kaye, beating Charlie Nickles simply isn’t good enough: and that’s why he’ll never be able to do it. Ned wants to humiliate me, he wants to teach me a couple dozen lessons, he wants to whoop me so bad that my black and blue flesh serves as a warning to the whole world: he wants to prove to the world that the bad guys don’t win. So he can’t win like a bad guy…he has to win like a knight in shining armor, finally slaying that big bad dragon for good.

It’s honorable, it’s noble, sure: but ultimately? It’s fundamentally facile and inept. Ned won’t just roll me up, he won’t just hit me with a foreign object and score a cheap win…he won’t even let himself try! And that, my dear Connie, is why Ned Kaye is completely and totally FUCKED! His mind is up in the clouds, so we already know he’s taken his eye off the ball. This match isn’t about ethics or philosophy…this match is just about you, Connie.

The Nickleman looked down at this loving championship with a sparkling twinkle in his eye.

Ned’s going to war with far too much to prove. He loaded up his plate with that all-you-can-eat heroism, and tomorrow night he’s going to shit his pants trying to deliver it. It’s a crying shame, ain’t it? Ned Kaye had the whole world placed in front of him, but instead of reaching out and grabbing it he’s reaching up to the skies and trying to grab himself a piece of the holy heavens. He’s focusing on my honor, he’s focusing on my integrity, he’s focusing all his might on ME….but he’s not focusing on you at all, sweetheart, and that’s why I know he won’t be able to end our love. He doesn’t have his sights set at the right target, so when he goes to shoot all it’ll do is backfire.

What a shame: for Ned, of course. For us it’s just relief!

Chief Nickleman laughs at the absurdity of the situation.

Ned Kaye is trying to steal my wife, and he really thinks he’s somehow the good guy in all of this? He knows he can’t love Connie as much as I do, I mean he’s already said as much. He knows he can’t cherish you like I do, and he won’t dedicate his entire life to you the way I have.

So what exactly makes Ned the better man to hold you?

The Nickleman shook his head from side to side in derision of the very question itself.

The webs he weaves are so immaculate, so incredible….it’s just a damn shame they’ve no weight to them. All it’ll take is one flick of the finger and Ned’s entire cocoon will collapse like a cheap house of cards.

Just watch.

The big Chief of the XWF grinned from ear-to-ear like the deranged dog that he is.

Ned Kaye said I give myself crutches and consider it a strength…….but that’s funny, cause Ned Kaye took the ‘high road’ with his briefcase, fell flat on his face, and is now telling everyone that walking on them crutches is the ‘honorable’ thing to do! You couldn’t even make this type of hypocrisy up if you tried!


Ned Kaye said he’ll beat me without ever stooping down to my level….but did this idiot forget that we’re fighing in a fucking strap match? I’m stronger, bigger, and tougher than Ned: as long as he’s strapped to me I can drag him to whatever fucking level I want! Do you want to see the depths of my darkness, Ned? Of course you don’t! You already said as much, you fucking pussy! But that doesn’t change the facts, and the fact of the matter is this: as long as Ned has to be strapped to me, he’s going wherever the fuck I choose to take him! Do you want to find out how many levels to hell really exist?

The Nickleman sneered at the camera as he held his championship belt against his chest.

You want to hear a tragedy in two words?

Charlie Nickles.

The Chief smiled to himself as he tilted his head forward ala Stanley Kubrick.

I turn mothers to widows, children to orphans, and careers to ashes! Every tragic XWF storybook has my fingerprints all up and down its spine. Pick a sad story, then trace the path of The Nickleman…more times than not, you’ll see that all the chaos was mine alone to make. Caedus. Lycana. Granger. Alia-



BANG!


BANG!


BANG!



What the fuck was that? It sounds like it came from the closet….

The Nickleman abruptly stood up, placing his championship belt back on its assigned seat as he turned his gaze back to the closet. It sounded like there was a knock-em-out, drag-em-down brawl happening behind the closet door.

You girls just wait here…maybe our friend on the radio has finally decided to join us again.

The Nickleman slowly walks past the semi-circle of championships as he approaches the door to the closet. The Nickleman cautiously places his hand on the doorknob before he pushes on it, entering the dark and dusty closet once more. 

Are you ready to talk now, bi-WAIT, what the fuck?!?!

The Nickleman flings the door open and bursts into the closet, only to find a completely empty room! Even the table is gone! As The Nickleman takes another step into the room he runs smackdab into the far wall, which is now way closer to the door than it used to be!

Where’d everything go?!?!

The Nickleman looked around the empty closet in confusion until he stepped on a small piece of paper laying on the floor.

What the…

The Nickleman lifted his foot off the floor and grabbed the piece of paper off of it. He squinted at it through the darkness of the closet, barely making out the words etched in ink.

What I giveth, I can also taketh.

Loveth,
Albert Provolone

P.S. I’ll see you in the doctor’s office next week.

P.P.S. I have a secret to tell you about him.

The Nickleman stormed out of the closet while waving the small piece of paper around furiously in front of his championship belts.

WE’VE BEEN FUCKING ROBBED, GIRLS!

The scene fades to black as Chief Nickles shows the mysterious piece of paper to his pride and joy, the XWF Supercontinental championship.

Wait, what do you mean there’s nothing on this paper?

Before we cut to complete darkness we see the ink on the paper mysteriously vanish as the ethereal laughter of a Space God blares through your speakers.]]>
Well well well…..now that we’re alone, can you talk to me again?

Chief Nickleman leaned forward curiously, his optimistic expression lingering for a few seconds before being replaced by a scold and a sneer. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, Indian style!

Really? You’re going to keep pleading the fifth? How fucking typical.

Chief Nickleman shook his head from side to side with disdain.

You want to act up and ruin my family's first day of Hanukkah celebrations, but now that you’re being held accountable for your actions you go quiet? Who are you: me?!

The Nickleman chuckles to himself before bringing his arms down onto the table and clasping his hands together. He lets out a soft sigh before lifting his gaze back up to whatever is sitting directly across the table from him.

See motherfucker, I can get away with acting out and then hushing up because I’m the CHIEF round’ these parts, ya hear? I can cause a fucking ruckus, spill some body fluids, and then lift my hands up innocently because I’m the one and only Nickleman, and I run this fucking territory. Who’s going to stop me? YOU?! Pfffft.

The Nickleman rolled his eyes exaggeratedly to demonstrate the absurdity of the claim.

You? You could never stop me. You could never do anything of the sort. At best, you’re a perpetual annoyance. You’re a little flea just nipping on my ballsack, hoping to drain an ounce of greatness from me. It will never happen!

You hearing me, boy?

NEVER!

The Nickleman stared down whatever was across the table from him. The most decorated fighter in contemporary wrestling clenched his fists into balls as he gritted his teeth.

So just who the fuck do you think you are? Fucking with The Nickleman is a DEATH SENTENCE for anyone, man or machine!

Chief Nickleman let his threat linger in the air for a few moments before he shifted around in his chair.

I’ve been on every stage in this world, from Backyard Roller Rinks all the way to Madison Square Garden and back. I headline the greatest shows because my name on a poster alone is worth my weight in gold. Shit, I’ve won so much championship gold from so many federations this year that I’m starting to lose count! I’m kicking up dust and drawing out enemies from every fucking inch of this business….but just exactly where the fuck did you come from, eh?

What’s your beef with The Chief?

The Nickleman squinted across the table before finally throwing his hands up in frustration and standing from his seat.

Fine….you don’t want to talk? I have other ways to find out about you, don’t you fucking worry for one minute.

Before The Nickleman walks over to the only door in the room, the camera zooms out just enough to show both ends of the table. Finally, after all this teasing and foreplay, we see the pseudo-sentient creature resting on the table across from The Nickleman. But before I just TELL you what’s on the other side of the table....what did you THINK was there? Do you pay enough attention to simply know?

You’re the worst fucking radio ever!

As The Nickleman slams the door shut we see a vintage radio resting on the table quietly.

God damn piece of junk…

Chief Nickleman shakes his head from side to side, clearly disgruntled with the state of things, as he walks away from what appears to be a closet door. As The Nickleman leaves the closet the camera switches perspectives, and now we are treated to a point-of-view just behind Charlie’s shoulders.

The Nickleman walks away from the closet and towards a row of chairs situated in a semi-circle in front of an antique television set. We see a slew of OCW, IIW, and XWF championship belts all resting in their own chairs quite cozily, with blankets and throw pillows and everything! Directly in the middle of the championship circle rests Charlie’s most prestigious prize, the XWF Supercontinental championship. A princess tiara has been placed atop the belt’s chair and a small gift wrapped box has been placed between it’s leather straps. The camera switches to a neutral perspective as The Nickleman kneels down in front of his precious Connie. He lets out a long sigh as he caresses her championship plates.

So baby….what’s up with that radio you got me for Kwanzaa? It was all about interrupting us while we set up the tree, but now it’s all radio silence. Is there a remote or something for it? Does it need new batteries?

Chief Nickleman cocks a curious eyebrow when his ‘Connie’ responds.

Wait….what do you mean you didn’t get me that radio to celebrate the Winter Solstice? Are you saying one of these floozies actually bought me a gift?

Charlie gestured mindlessly towards his collection of OCW & IIW championship belts. The Nickleman squinted in confusion after ‘Connie’ responded to him again with even more sounds of silence.

Some strange man brought it into our home in the middle of the night? What the hell…why didn’t you tell me?! That sounds like a total security risk! You should have screamed as soon as you saw the intruder! What if he was going to molest you, or even kidnap you!

The Chief continued to plead with his championship belt as she justified her silence to him.

He smelled like……cheddar? And he looked like Jesus? What does that even mean, baby?

The Nickleman looked at his belt in confusion before shaking his head from side to side.

You know what….this isn’t making any sense. None of this is making any sense! We’d better watch that footage back again, maybe we’ll uncover some more clues if we watch it again and pay close attention. Maybe it wasn’t ever talking to us at all, maybe I just smoked too much fentanyl last week or something. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

The Nickleman stood up and walked over to the antique TV set against the wall, facing the semi-circle of championships. Beneath the TV you can see the old XWF video drone from the last promo, laying on the ground completely dismantled. Inside of the TV set you can see a VHS cartridge, and Charlie presses ‘play’ on the TV before walking back to stand next to Connie.

Chief Nickles crosses his arms and watches curiously as the videotape begins to play back all the action from last week’s promotional material. The only problem? There’s no audio on the tape! The Nickleman throws his hands up in frustration as the footage plays back without any sound.

I swear to God we have the worst audio/video team in all of professional wrestling! First someone fucked up all the footage of Finn Kuhn aborting Buster Gloves, and now someone’s fucking up all my personal footage, too! This is getting ridiculous!

The Nickleman walks over to the TV in a huff before clicking the power button, turning it off. The Nickleman reaches into his loincloth and pulls out a cellphone covered in pubes and suspicious fluids. He presses the numbers ‘6-6-6’ on his speed dial before holding the phone up to his mangled earhole. The Nickleman covers up the mic on the phone before speaking softly to Connie.

I’m calling management right now, and we’re going to get to the bottom of this! This is the night before the big pay per view event, and there’s no way these idiots have anything better to do than answer my phone calls!

The Nickleman takes his hand off the mic as he turns his focus back to the phone call at hand. After nearly a minute of ringing, The Nickleman hears a sudden ‘click’ as the call goes to voicemail.

FUCK!

“Hello! You've reached the voice mailbox of Liam Desmond, Head of the XWF's Department of Video Archives and Savage General Manager! I'm either on an important business meeting, or I'm trying my hand on my brand new Plenty of Fish account! Please leave your message after the beep, and I'll get right back to you!”

YOU LAZY CUNT! YOU NEVER ANSWER MY FUCKING PHONECALLS, YOU BITCH! I’M STILL WAITING FOR YOU TO SEND ME ALL THE SECRET FOOTAGE FROM THE WOMEN’S RESTROOM, YOU ASSHOLE! AND NOW I NEED EVEN MORE FOOTAGE!

FUCKING CALL ME BACK YOU PRICK!

The Nickleman slams his phone shut and shakes his head angrily. He looks back towards his arsenal of athletic achievement with a sour tone to his voice.

Can you believe this shit? I’m the XWF’s biggest home-grown star since Doc-d’fucking-Ville, and I can’t even get the the god damned video archivist to call me back! That’s crazy. What’s he even doing all day- just assembling all my highlights into viral clips? Fucking lazy sack of shit! He should be servicing ME! Directly and on demand!

Ugh. It’s like you girls are the only ones who have any gratitude for what I bring to this business.

The Nickleman’s rageful frown turned upside down as he stared at his life’s greatest joys. A soft smile spread across this crackhead’s cracked lips.

Oh you girls…you crazy girls are the only thing keeping me sane any more.

The Nickleman calmed himself down by going in a row and touching every one of his championship belts. The feeling of their cold metal upon his warm palm always soothed him, like extra-strength vicodin for his broken soul. Charlie had given up everything in his life to get to this precipice, and now that he was here, he would never go back. His children, his lovers, and his friends always came at him with their expectations, desires, and dreams, as if they should somehow matter to The Nickleman.

But championship gold? Championship gold expected nothing from The Nickleman except his inherent greatness. Championship gold could never betray The Nickleman the way that lovers have, the way that friends have, the way that his children surely would. To The Nickleman, love with a championship belt was worth far more than any love another human could provide. Championship gold won’t ruin your night crying about all the money you blew on hookers and drugs. Championship gold won’t try to stab you for fucking it’s sister, and it won’t give you the cold shoulder for forgetting it’s birthday. To Charlie, this type of one-sided love was a dream come true.

After touching each and every championship belt in his possession, The Nickleman began lingering next to his favorite championship: the XWF Supercontinental belt. The most virgin of all the aforementioned titles, there was something about the Supercon’s innocence that attracted The Nickleman to it in particular. Charlie licked his lips as he ran his fingers across the leather straps of his favorite title. These straps had barely been touched, barely been held by any other wrestlers: they were practically brand new in the eyes of The Nickleman.

And to him that meant this belt was his, in particular, to defile and to define.

You’re my most precious….my one true love….

The XWF Supercontinental Championship belt rested peacefully on it’s chair beneath the princess tiara, still gripping that small gift wrapped box inside of its leathery clutches. The Nickleman dropped down to one knee before reaching up for the box and slowly unwrapping it with a gentle twinkle in his eye.

So, Connie…..you know what this is, don’t you?

Chief Nickleman cracks a big ol’ smile as he finally unwraps the small box. The camera zooms in on the branded packaging, showing that this small box originally came from Helzberg Diamonds. The Nickleman flips the top of the box open to reveal an incredibly extravagant ring with a huge diamond stone setting and 6 emeralds embedded into it’s golden band. The shit looks like it must have cost a fucking fortune!

Connie, will you make me the happiest man in the world by saying yes?

The Nickleman waits on his knee in silence, staring up at the XWF championship with unusual tenderness in his eyes and unlimited love in his heart. A long period of silence goes by before The Nickleman suddenly starts jumping up and down with joy, doing his best Daniel Bryan impression.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

The Nickleman eagerly slides the expensive ring into the small, moist space between Connie’s championship plate and her leather strap.

I’ll stick this in your gash for safekeeping!

The Nickleman slid the ring into the championship belt with a perverted smirk stretched across his face.

You like the way that feels, babygirl?

The Nickleman winks at his belt before picking her up, placing her around his chest, and then sitting back down in the chair with her. The other championship belts probably look on with jealousy, because why wouldn’t they be envious of Connie’s top-bitch treatment? Still, The Nickleman pays the other championship belts no mind at all: he’s far too engrossed by his precious Connie.

So babygirl, are you excited to watch me in action tomorrow night? I know how you love watching me defend your honor.

The Nickleman stares down at his Connie with a sicko’s smile, but that tender smile soon shifts back to a patented Nickleman frown.

What do you mean you’re worried? What are you worried about, baby? You know I’ll always be here for you, my devotion is my guarantee!

The Nickleman listened to Connie’s deepest, darkest fears without judgment. Ha, just kidding! Of course he’s judging this stupid bitch- but he’s also trying to be polite to her!

Oh baby, no! There’s absolutely no way I’d ever let Ned Kaye take you away from me. Who do you think he is, sweetheart? He’s not even a bad joke, he’s so bland that he’s just another vanilla cakewalk!

I mean seriously, sweetheart, why do you think Ned Kaye even has a chance tomorrow night?

The not-so-Indian Chief cocked his head to the side as he listened to her tranquil reply.

Because you listened to his promos and he said he hates me, and because he said he’s a ‘better person’ than me?

………

So what? What’s that got to do with wrestling, babe?

The Nickleman rolled his eyes as he dismissed Connie’s silly notion with a simple click of his tongue.

Wrestling ain’t about ethics or morals, alright? Shit’s barely even about athletics, nowadays pro wrestling has devolved into sideshow bloodsports- just the way I like it! If wrestling was about integrity and decency, well then fuck, why would Mark Flynn be the universal champion? That man literally killed his tag team partner and used his rotting corpse as a fucking stepping stone: and he holds the 2nd best prize in this whole industry!

Behind you, of course, babydoll…

The Nickleman blows a playful kiss at his championship belt before carrying on with his anti-Ned diatribe.

Jenny Myst even holds the X-treme title, and that bitch has more hair than honor!

I don’t know what fantasy world Ned Kaye thinks he’s living in, but it isn’t the fucking X-W-F.

I mean come on, baby- where’s the honor and integrity in a fucking strap match?

Chief Nickles lets the audience sit with the question for a moment before he divulges his own twisted answer.

In a strap match, the only thing honor and integrity are gonna do’ for ya is get ya killed. This stipulation is just fucking barbaric, you know? They’re tying Kitty-Kat Kaye up next to this sick puppy, everyone already knows I’m going to maul this motherfucker with no remorse. Where’s the fucking decency in a dogfighting ring, Ned? The only decent thing about this match are the fucking ODDS! You can bet the house on The Nickleman and walk away with a whole nother’ fucking house right now!

Ned Kaye can come at me with all the morality and integrity he wants, but the fact of the matter is that guy needs to wear three cups and a couple of eyepatches down to the ring- because I’m going to be kicking him in the balls and raking his eyes out all night long! How the fuck is he going to get away from me? How the fuck will his honor handle that?!

How many kicks to the nuts will it take before Ned’s honorable manhood shrivels up from the torsion?

The Nickleman grins to himself at the thought of causing Ned’s ballsack to literally explode from repeated force.

Ned Kaye’s head is so far up his own ass he can’t even see past his own BULLSHIT any more! Ned Kaye thinks I’m dissatisfied with my position in this business? Ned Kaye is telling people that I ‘blame my failures on others’......

The Nickleman looks around the room full of his championship gold collection.

Well, I gotta ask….WHAT FUCKING FAILURES IS HE TALKING ABOUT?!?! Because I sure as fuck haven’t noticed any! Ever since August I’ve been on a FUCKING ROLL in the XWF, and by that I mean I’ve been FUCKING ROLLING THROUGH the competition! Peter Vaughn? Nah, he’s Peter GONE now, bitch! I’m still riding high after my marquee wins against Mark Flynn, Dolly Waters, Jenny Myst- and I did that shit all on the same fucking night. Then, I beat Peter Vaughn and won another OCW championship belt in his dishonor, too, just for the fuck of it!

Ned said I have a million excuses…but what the fuck do I need to excuse? I don’t need a SOLUTION to jackshit, because the very OXYGEN I BREATH IS ACIDIC! My words alone corrode and corrupt….so just imagine what my fists can do.

You know firsthand how big my fists feel, doncha’ Connie?

Chief Nickles flashed a sick wink to his belt, reminding her of all their bouts of voracious lovemaking.

Connie, I promise you can rest assured that you will be coming back home with me tomorrow night. Ned Kaye can throw as many punches my way as he wants, the truth is not a single one of his jabs is going to land. He just can’t do any damage to me, baby, and that’s why he’s never going to beat me.

Ever.

Ned Kaye is walking into this match with the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, and the funny part is, he’s the one that put it there! Ned can’t help but make things hard- nay, impossible for himself. I guess he’s always had this habit, though, so nobody can say this comes as a surprise. Ned chose to take the hard way with his briefcase, because Ned cares more about looking classy than being a champion.

And guess what? It’s the same fucking story this time around!

Ned couldn’t just go into this match looking to win: no, he needed to prove a point. For Ned Kaye, beating Charlie Nickles simply isn’t good enough: and that’s why he’ll never be able to do it. Ned wants to humiliate me, he wants to teach me a couple dozen lessons, he wants to whoop me so bad that my black and blue flesh serves as a warning to the whole world: he wants to prove to the world that the bad guys don’t win. So he can’t win like a bad guy…he has to win like a knight in shining armor, finally slaying that big bad dragon for good.

It’s honorable, it’s noble, sure: but ultimately? It’s fundamentally facile and inept. Ned won’t just roll me up, he won’t just hit me with a foreign object and score a cheap win…he won’t even let himself try! And that, my dear Connie, is why Ned Kaye is completely and totally FUCKED! His mind is up in the clouds, so we already know he’s taken his eye off the ball. This match isn’t about ethics or philosophy…this match is just about you, Connie.

The Nickleman looked down at this loving championship with a sparkling twinkle in his eye.

Ned’s going to war with far too much to prove. He loaded up his plate with that all-you-can-eat heroism, and tomorrow night he’s going to shit his pants trying to deliver it. It’s a crying shame, ain’t it? Ned Kaye had the whole world placed in front of him, but instead of reaching out and grabbing it he’s reaching up to the skies and trying to grab himself a piece of the holy heavens. He’s focusing on my honor, he’s focusing on my integrity, he’s focusing all his might on ME….but he’s not focusing on you at all, sweetheart, and that’s why I know he won’t be able to end our love. He doesn’t have his sights set at the right target, so when he goes to shoot all it’ll do is backfire.

What a shame: for Ned, of course. For us it’s just relief!

Chief Nickleman laughs at the absurdity of the situation.

Ned Kaye is trying to steal my wife, and he really thinks he’s somehow the good guy in all of this? He knows he can’t love Connie as much as I do, I mean he’s already said as much. He knows he can’t cherish you like I do, and he won’t dedicate his entire life to you the way I have.

So what exactly makes Ned the better man to hold you?

The Nickleman shook his head from side to side in derision of the very question itself.

The webs he weaves are so immaculate, so incredible….it’s just a damn shame they’ve no weight to them. All it’ll take is one flick of the finger and Ned’s entire cocoon will collapse like a cheap house of cards.

Just watch.

The big Chief of the XWF grinned from ear-to-ear like the deranged dog that he is.

Ned Kaye said I give myself crutches and consider it a strength…….but that’s funny, cause Ned Kaye took the ‘high road’ with his briefcase, fell flat on his face, and is now telling everyone that walking on them crutches is the ‘honorable’ thing to do! You couldn’t even make this type of hypocrisy up if you tried!


Ned Kaye said he’ll beat me without ever stooping down to my level….but did this idiot forget that we’re fighing in a fucking strap match? I’m stronger, bigger, and tougher than Ned: as long as he’s strapped to me I can drag him to whatever fucking level I want! Do you want to see the depths of my darkness, Ned? Of course you don’t! You already said as much, you fucking pussy! But that doesn’t change the facts, and the fact of the matter is this: as long as Ned has to be strapped to me, he’s going wherever the fuck I choose to take him! Do you want to find out how many levels to hell really exist?

The Nickleman sneered at the camera as he held his championship belt against his chest.

You want to hear a tragedy in two words?

Charlie Nickles.

The Chief smiled to himself as he tilted his head forward ala Stanley Kubrick.

I turn mothers to widows, children to orphans, and careers to ashes! Every tragic XWF storybook has my fingerprints all up and down its spine. Pick a sad story, then trace the path of The Nickleman…more times than not, you’ll see that all the chaos was mine alone to make. Caedus. Lycana. Granger. Alia-



BANG!


BANG!


BANG!



What the fuck was that? It sounds like it came from the closet….

The Nickleman abruptly stood up, placing his championship belt back on its assigned seat as he turned his gaze back to the closet. It sounded like there was a knock-em-out, drag-em-down brawl happening behind the closet door.

You girls just wait here…maybe our friend on the radio has finally decided to join us again.

The Nickleman slowly walks past the semi-circle of championships as he approaches the door to the closet. The Nickleman cautiously places his hand on the doorknob before he pushes on it, entering the dark and dusty closet once more. 

Are you ready to talk now, bi-WAIT, what the fuck?!?!

The Nickleman flings the door open and bursts into the closet, only to find a completely empty room! Even the table is gone! As The Nickleman takes another step into the room he runs smackdab into the far wall, which is now way closer to the door than it used to be!

Where’d everything go?!?!

The Nickleman looked around the empty closet in confusion until he stepped on a small piece of paper laying on the floor.

What the…

The Nickleman lifted his foot off the floor and grabbed the piece of paper off of it. He squinted at it through the darkness of the closet, barely making out the words etched in ink.

What I giveth, I can also taketh.

Loveth,
Albert Provolone

P.S. I’ll see you in the doctor’s office next week.

P.P.S. I have a secret to tell you about him.

The Nickleman stormed out of the closet while waving the small piece of paper around furiously in front of his championship belts.

WE’VE BEEN FUCKING ROBBED, GIRLS!

The scene fades to black as Chief Nickles shows the mysterious piece of paper to his pride and joy, the XWF Supercontinental championship.

Wait, what do you mean there’s nothing on this paper?

Before we cut to complete darkness we see the ink on the paper mysteriously vanish as the ethereal laughter of a Space God blares through your speakers.]]> <![CDATA[Banishing a specter]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45155 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 22:42:07 -0800 Angelica Vaughn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45155 Thanksgiving Eve
The STA Ranch
It was a feast, but it didn’t really feel like a party. Angelica’s mother had done her best to cook some nice food, meaning no green bean casserole in sight, and the two were seated at the long dinner table in Angie’s ranch house. But the Leggy Blonde of Legend found herself too distracted to enjoy the pot pie, or even be pleasant company.

Mary noticed her daughter’s rather sulky attitude. Indeed, how could she not? The otherwise so spirited and cheerful Angelica had been stabbing a Guinness sauce-glazed mushroom with her fork for the better part of five minutes in silence.

Mary thought she knew why Angelica wasn’t her talkative self, recounting everything her cats had done today, or talking her ear off about her next XWF opponent. After all, tonight was a Thanksgiving feast, but it wasn’t THE Thanksgiving feast. The “real” one was tomorrow, up in Lacklanland. The Thanksgiving parties of the Lacklans were as legendary as they were indulgent and extravagant. But Angelica hadn’t been there in a while… and while she was technically royalty over there, she was also an outsider still, in spite of having been welcomed into the family years ago when her biological father was proven to be Jean-Paul Lacklan.

”Not enjoying the dinner, sweetheart? You loved this pie last time I made it.”

Angelica snapped out of her daydream and looked over to her mother. Her cheeks blushed with embarrassment as she was caught out.

”Oops. No, sorry mumsie, I do like it. I’ve just been elsewhere. My mind, I mean.”

”And where, pray tell, might that be?”

Angelica put her cutlery down, and sighed before looking over at an empty chair across from them.

”It’s just that… I’ve been thinking. About… ‘dad’.”

Mary frowned. She hadn’t brought him up in years.

”Your ‘dad’. You’re not talking about Jean-Paul, I take it.”

Angelica shook her head.

”I’m surprised, Angelica. I thought he was a subject, and a person, you were all too happy to leave behind in a past that no longer held power over you.”

”I thought so, too. But then I got paired up with John Madison Junior, and let’s just say that he and his father have… issues. As in, his father is in jail and from what I can tell, he treats him like… well, like ‘dad’ used to treat me.”

”Is that what he told you?”

”Well… Funny story, that.”


A few days earlier…
San Antonio Community College

”Wow, this is where you go to school? Why is there dog shit in the corner?”

John Madison Jr looked around at the place as Angelica pulled him by the arm to keep him from awkwardly standing in place and gasping at any and all bystanders. He seemed to flinch slightly as she touched him, and really had to pull because he was stronger than he looked. But so was Angelica.

”Come on, Jay Emm Jay, can’t stand around here all day! It’s lunchtime, we need to get to the cafeteria before they run out of the chicken fingers, they’re the only good thing they sell there!”

As they entered the building, Angie’s taggie couldn’t hide his excitement.

”Wow, this place smells like mold AND wet cardboard. I could feel right at home, here.”

”Well, if you want to enroll, I’m sure the dean will be more than happy to have TWO XWF Superstars and Champions on campus. Come on now! I’ll introduce you to my sorority.”

”Sorority?? You mean there’s MORE like you??”

Angelica rolled her eyes and dragged him into the cafeteria. She walked over to the table where Pamela, Sandra, Rita and some other Kappa Alpha Tau members were, already munching on some much-desired chicken fingers. They greeted their sorority president as she approached them.

”Hi, girls! Please tell me those weren’t the last chicken fingers!”

“Don’t worry”, Angela said as she shoved a plate towards Angie. “We saved you some.”

”You gals are the best!”

“Who’s the guy? Your boyfriend?”

”NOBVS!”/ ”Sure am!”

”He’s a colleague from work. You know I told you about winning the XWF tag team championships? Well, he’s my taggie.”

“He looks a bit odd.”

”Angie, I’m confused, are these your sorority sisters? They aren’t like you at all, they’re way old and not as pretty.”

Angelica’s head turned the color of a tomato as her sorority sisters puffed their cheeks and crossed their arms.

”J-Madz! You can’t say stuff like that, it’s really rude!”

”But you said I should always be honest.”

”And if you don’t have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all, but you forgot about THAT part, didn’t you?? Now shoo, we’ll eat separately.”

As John Madison Junior shrugged and walked to another, empty table, Angie turned to her sisters.

”Sorry, gals. He’s… a piece of work. I’ll have him send you flowers to make up for it.”

The Kappa Alpha Taus didn’t seem fully convinced, but at the very least they trusted Angelica, who went over to her tag partner’s table with a plate full of chicken fingers and some spicy dipping sauce.

”That’s wasn’t very kind, John.”

”Look, if I’m going to be your boyfriend, they’ll need to respect my opinions.”

”Boyf-? You’re not my b-… Oh heck, why do I bother with this.”

”So I am, right? Knew it. Persistence is key! My dad once told me that. And some other stuff.”

Angelica’s eyes turned to slits as John grabbed half of the chicken fingers at once and ate them all without barely even chewing. But it was the first time he had mentioned his father in such a casual conversation, and they’d had their fair share of talks after winning the titles. Photo ops, a small promo tour, some interviews,… He always seemed to act weird around her, though. Maybe that was just who he was. But everybody was who they were because of their upbringing.

”Do… you and your dad get along? From what I’ve seen and heard, he’s not exactly the type to give a ton of motivational speeches. He’s more like someone who would crush your spirit, or…”

”Crush? I don’t have a crush! Not on you! Definitely not! Hehe.”

”What? No, I meant that from what I’ve read about him, he’s not exactly a kitty cat you can pick up without mittens.”

”Smitten? I’m flattered, Angelica.”

”WHAT? I meant that he’s more like the devil in disguise, horns and all!”

”Horny, huh? Well, I’m sure we can find a janitor’s closet somewhere.”

”John Madison Junior, I am very close to throwing my soda in your face. Stop being an utter creep for one second, and pretending like you’re mishearing my questions. What’s up with you and your dad??”

He looked at Angelica for a second, and then grabbed the remaining chicken fingers.

”Hey, those were mine!”

”You’re making me emotional with all your questions! I get hungry when I’m emotional. So yeah, my dad and I… What about it? He’s in jail. I just wanna make him proud, though, I guess. He’s my dad still, after all. There’s not much more to it than that than I can tell you. Don’t you want to make your dad proud? Or at least, you know,… Visit. I dunno.”

As he munched away on the remaining fingers, Angelica leaned back. He said it so casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. She had long given up on pleasing her fake father, and she was pretty certain biological dad would be proud of what she had accomplished in her career so far (although there was hopefully a lot more to come!) But in spite of their difficult relationship, John Madison made it seem like you couldn’t possibly burn a bridge with a parent. Not completely. No matter how abusive or one-sided the relationship was. Maybe there was a lesson to be learned from him after all, even if he didn’t know he’d taught it.

”Okay, I guess I see where you’re coming from. Thank you for being honest. Now, let’s talk Bad Medicine…”


Present Day
The STA Ranch

”I see…”

Mary listened to Angelica as she told her the story, and leaned back in her chair, being finished with her own meal.

”Look, sweetie, if you want to reopen old wounds in order to heal a scar, then that’s your choice, and I can’t stop you. But it’s a dangerous road you’re going down, and I’d hate to see you get hurt again.”

”I know, mom. But I’m stronger than I used to be. I’m doing this because I want to, not because I feel I have to, or because I’m scared of what’ll happen if I don’t. I feel like it’s a chapter I can only finish if I write the last few sentences. But I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

”That man caused the both of us, as well as your biological father, a lot of harm and grief, sweetie. I’m not sure why you want to do this. Forgive him? Punish him? If it were up to me, I’d let him rot in whatever dungeon Le Bord de Dieu is keeping him in.”

”He’s a specter looming over us, mom. The only way we get rid of him is by humanizing him and making sure he can’t hurt us anymore. Aveline can’t do that for us. It’s something we must do ourselves. As far as Bordy is concerned, he has outlived his usefulness, but unless we, or I, can confront him one last time, it’ll always be like his vice grip over us hasn’t truly dwindled. I want to do this, so I can finally banish him from our minds, as well as our lives.”

Mary sighed and poured some wine in her glass.

”If it’ll help you, then by all means.”

Angelica perked up a little. Knowing she had her mother’s blessing definitely made her feel a little bit better. But it wasn’t going to make the task at hand any easier.


A Day Later…
Lacklanland
At the mansion’s gates

It was home away from home, but didn’t really feel like it right now. Still the Thanksgiving party was about to kick off, and judging from the excited text messages from her sister, they were in for one heck of an evening.

Quote:”Sis, we have the biggest bird in a decade coming up! It’s been brining and cooking for DAYS! And the creamed onions! So. Many. Creamed. Onions! And I HOPE you haven’t forgotten to bring the SPECIALLY designed dress I sent you a week ago that matches my outfit. The rags you sometimes dress in, I cannot even! Hurry up! Kenzi’s hungry as flame, and Step Mumsie is getting drunk already.”

Angelica smiled. Sarah sure seemed excited, but she had some business to take care of first.

She entered the main hall, but rather than take the grand staircase up to the dining room, she turned left to a hidden side alley that led to the compound’s dungeon. As soon as she did so, the temperature seemed to drop by quite a few degrees, and the walls of stone were cold and damp. The torches in their sconces weren’t lit, and so Angelica had to use the flashlight on the phone to guide her.

Eventually she arrived at the dungeon(s) proper. The cells were empty, but one door was guarded by two stout Lacklanlanders dressed in ceremonial garbs. As Angelica approached, they crossed their spears, signaling that none were to pass. But Angie wasn’t going to take that as an answer.

”Hi! This is the door to Richard Vaughn’s cell, isn’t it? I have business inside, please let me through.”

They looked at each other hesitantly. They obviously knew who she was. But their orders were clear.

“Many apologies, Your Highness. But this area is off limits. Orders from the Queen herself.”

”My friend, I am going through this door, and I would rather ask the forgiveness of Aveline Lacklan, than ask for her permission. If Le Bord de Dieu wants to punish me for my transgressions, then she can try to do so. But you will not stop me. Now would you kindly move aside? This doesn’t need to get more complicated than it is.”

After a few more moments’ hesitation, they eventually lifted their spears, allowing Angie safe passage. She nodded appreciatively and went through the door. What she saw there, was… not what she had expected. The place seemed like a library. It was spacious, the walls were lined with shelves, and rows upon rows of old books and scrolls were stacked upon them. In the center was a table, where an old man sat. He was short and stout, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. The years had not been kind to him. His skin had a pale, yellowish hue, and the remainder of his hair was little more than a few thin threads hanging from his temples and the back of his head. As he looked up and recognized Angelica, his mouth shrunk as if he had just bitten into a lemon. Angelica stood tall, however, not letting the sight of the man who had ruined her childhood get to her.

”Father. How do you do?”

No answer came. Instead, he just slammed shut the book he was reading and looked at her with disgust. The same disgust she’d seen in his eyes for the first decade and a half of her life.
But Angelica now saw him for what he truly was. He was broken. Harmless. He wasn’t a specter, he was a wisp, waiting to be snuffed out.

”You’ve aged. You’re a far cry from the man who convinced my pregnant mother to abandon my birthplace and birthright. Seeing you like this doesn’t give me pleasure, but it does give me peace. My partner Maddy may not be able to set his abusive father free, but I do possess that power. Tomorrow, you and I walk out of this place, and you will leave to never return. You will not speak to me, or of me. I have arranged a cottage in New Zealand for you to live out the rest of your life. You’ll be sent a monthly stipend that you’re free to complement however you see fit. You’ll be able to live comfortably, and without worry. Some might say that is more than you deserve, but if we can’t find it in ourselves to forgive those who wronged us, then maybe we’re not as gracious as we think we are. This is farewell, father. Thank you, for finally going away for good.”

Angelica turned around, and left the broken man behind.


[Image: dNzoMKD.jpg]

”Hi-hiiii~ my precious Vaughnstars! Angie here, as you can see, and I’m here in Lacklanland, making my way up to another EPIC and TOTES AMAZEBALLZ supes legendary-as-flame Lacklan Thanksgiving dinner party! But before I get drunk on creamed onions and overeat on punch, let me address you guys for a bit, because there is a LOT we need to get to!

I won my first title in the XWF recently, and as all champs must do, they have to fend off challengers. And as my theme song goes: I WILL DEFEND, I WILL DEFEND! And defend it I will, against James Raven and Atara Themis. One’s a bonafide Hall of Famer, the other is a mainstay in the XWF Top 50 of all time! Considering how many excellent superstars have passed through the XWF over the years, that alone makes Atara a fearsome challenger.

So James AND Atara Raven? Wel, that ain’t no A Flock of Seagulls, my friends, and this ain’t no A Flock of Seagulls concert. It’s an Unkindness of Ravens, or so I believe it’s called. Now, a lot has been said about that name, as I’m sure you’re all aware. That’s what a group of Ravens is called, after all. But do any of you know *why*?

Well, a quick search on birdfact dot com, learns us that they were called that because ravens never seemed to care about their young. Sometimes, they’d expel them out into the real world before they were well and truly ready.

Now, I know you’re both new parents, James and Atara. And for what it’s worth, I think you’ll both do a job that is totes amazeballz, and that kid is lucky to have two such supremely talented parents. Honestly, I do. But as far as Maddy and I go, we did grow up in an Unkindness. We had parents that didn’t care about us, and both of us were expelled out into the real world before we were well and truly ready. And we’ve had to face the real world, and its harsh reality, head on. And I dare say the both of us did a great job.

So Atara? James? If that Unkindness couldn’t stop us, what on the face of this big blue ball that we call Earth makes you think that you can? We’ve faced tougher challenges than you, although maybe not inside of that very square circle that has four corners.

Now, I know my taggie is a weirdo and a bit of a creep. I know he’s volatile and unpredictable, but he’s also very talented. If he performs like I know he can, then honestly? You don’t stand a chance. I know I will need him at my back, because I can’t do it all by myself. That’s what good teams do, they complement each other. In the end, that will be the deciding factor of this match. We’re either on the verge of something special, or a thing that “could’ve been”… I choose to believe in the former. I didn’t come this far to go down without the fight of my lifetime. So prepare for the #Vaughnemous, because it’s coming, and it’s going to kick your head in.”]]> Thanksgiving Eve
The STA Ranch
It was a feast, but it didn’t really feel like a party. Angelica’s mother had done her best to cook some nice food, meaning no green bean casserole in sight, and the two were seated at the long dinner table in Angie’s ranch house. But the Leggy Blonde of Legend found herself too distracted to enjoy the pot pie, or even be pleasant company.

Mary noticed her daughter’s rather sulky attitude. Indeed, how could she not? The otherwise so spirited and cheerful Angelica had been stabbing a Guinness sauce-glazed mushroom with her fork for the better part of five minutes in silence.

Mary thought she knew why Angelica wasn’t her talkative self, recounting everything her cats had done today, or talking her ear off about her next XWF opponent. After all, tonight was a Thanksgiving feast, but it wasn’t THE Thanksgiving feast. The “real” one was tomorrow, up in Lacklanland. The Thanksgiving parties of the Lacklans were as legendary as they were indulgent and extravagant. But Angelica hadn’t been there in a while… and while she was technically royalty over there, she was also an outsider still, in spite of having been welcomed into the family years ago when her biological father was proven to be Jean-Paul Lacklan.

”Not enjoying the dinner, sweetheart? You loved this pie last time I made it.”

Angelica snapped out of her daydream and looked over to her mother. Her cheeks blushed with embarrassment as she was caught out.

”Oops. No, sorry mumsie, I do like it. I’ve just been elsewhere. My mind, I mean.”

”And where, pray tell, might that be?”

Angelica put her cutlery down, and sighed before looking over at an empty chair across from them.

”It’s just that… I’ve been thinking. About… ‘dad’.”

Mary frowned. She hadn’t brought him up in years.

”Your ‘dad’. You’re not talking about Jean-Paul, I take it.”

Angelica shook her head.

”I’m surprised, Angelica. I thought he was a subject, and a person, you were all too happy to leave behind in a past that no longer held power over you.”

”I thought so, too. But then I got paired up with John Madison Junior, and let’s just say that he and his father have… issues. As in, his father is in jail and from what I can tell, he treats him like… well, like ‘dad’ used to treat me.”

”Is that what he told you?”

”Well… Funny story, that.”


A few days earlier…
San Antonio Community College

”Wow, this is where you go to school? Why is there dog shit in the corner?”

John Madison Jr looked around at the place as Angelica pulled him by the arm to keep him from awkwardly standing in place and gasping at any and all bystanders. He seemed to flinch slightly as she touched him, and really had to pull because he was stronger than he looked. But so was Angelica.

”Come on, Jay Emm Jay, can’t stand around here all day! It’s lunchtime, we need to get to the cafeteria before they run out of the chicken fingers, they’re the only good thing they sell there!”

As they entered the building, Angie’s taggie couldn’t hide his excitement.

”Wow, this place smells like mold AND wet cardboard. I could feel right at home, here.”

”Well, if you want to enroll, I’m sure the dean will be more than happy to have TWO XWF Superstars and Champions on campus. Come on now! I’ll introduce you to my sorority.”

”Sorority?? You mean there’s MORE like you??”

Angelica rolled her eyes and dragged him into the cafeteria. She walked over to the table where Pamela, Sandra, Rita and some other Kappa Alpha Tau members were, already munching on some much-desired chicken fingers. They greeted their sorority president as she approached them.

”Hi, girls! Please tell me those weren’t the last chicken fingers!”

“Don’t worry”, Angela said as she shoved a plate towards Angie. “We saved you some.”

”You gals are the best!”

“Who’s the guy? Your boyfriend?”

”NOBVS!”/ ”Sure am!”

”He’s a colleague from work. You know I told you about winning the XWF tag team championships? Well, he’s my taggie.”

“He looks a bit odd.”

”Angie, I’m confused, are these your sorority sisters? They aren’t like you at all, they’re way old and not as pretty.”

Angelica’s head turned the color of a tomato as her sorority sisters puffed their cheeks and crossed their arms.

”J-Madz! You can’t say stuff like that, it’s really rude!”

”But you said I should always be honest.”

”And if you don’t have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all, but you forgot about THAT part, didn’t you?? Now shoo, we’ll eat separately.”

As John Madison Junior shrugged and walked to another, empty table, Angie turned to her sisters.

”Sorry, gals. He’s… a piece of work. I’ll have him send you flowers to make up for it.”

The Kappa Alpha Taus didn’t seem fully convinced, but at the very least they trusted Angelica, who went over to her tag partner’s table with a plate full of chicken fingers and some spicy dipping sauce.

”That’s wasn’t very kind, John.”

”Look, if I’m going to be your boyfriend, they’ll need to respect my opinions.”

”Boyf-? You’re not my b-… Oh heck, why do I bother with this.”

”So I am, right? Knew it. Persistence is key! My dad once told me that. And some other stuff.”

Angelica’s eyes turned to slits as John grabbed half of the chicken fingers at once and ate them all without barely even chewing. But it was the first time he had mentioned his father in such a casual conversation, and they’d had their fair share of talks after winning the titles. Photo ops, a small promo tour, some interviews,… He always seemed to act weird around her, though. Maybe that was just who he was. But everybody was who they were because of their upbringing.

”Do… you and your dad get along? From what I’ve seen and heard, he’s not exactly the type to give a ton of motivational speeches. He’s more like someone who would crush your spirit, or…”

”Crush? I don’t have a crush! Not on you! Definitely not! Hehe.”

”What? No, I meant that from what I’ve read about him, he’s not exactly a kitty cat you can pick up without mittens.”

”Smitten? I’m flattered, Angelica.”

”WHAT? I meant that he’s more like the devil in disguise, horns and all!”

”Horny, huh? Well, I’m sure we can find a janitor’s closet somewhere.”

”John Madison Junior, I am very close to throwing my soda in your face. Stop being an utter creep for one second, and pretending like you’re mishearing my questions. What’s up with you and your dad??”

He looked at Angelica for a second, and then grabbed the remaining chicken fingers.

”Hey, those were mine!”

”You’re making me emotional with all your questions! I get hungry when I’m emotional. So yeah, my dad and I… What about it? He’s in jail. I just wanna make him proud, though, I guess. He’s my dad still, after all. There’s not much more to it than that than I can tell you. Don’t you want to make your dad proud? Or at least, you know,… Visit. I dunno.”

As he munched away on the remaining fingers, Angelica leaned back. He said it so casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. She had long given up on pleasing her fake father, and she was pretty certain biological dad would be proud of what she had accomplished in her career so far (although there was hopefully a lot more to come!) But in spite of their difficult relationship, John Madison made it seem like you couldn’t possibly burn a bridge with a parent. Not completely. No matter how abusive or one-sided the relationship was. Maybe there was a lesson to be learned from him after all, even if he didn’t know he’d taught it.

”Okay, I guess I see where you’re coming from. Thank you for being honest. Now, let’s talk Bad Medicine…”


Present Day
The STA Ranch

”I see…”

Mary listened to Angelica as she told her the story, and leaned back in her chair, being finished with her own meal.

”Look, sweetie, if you want to reopen old wounds in order to heal a scar, then that’s your choice, and I can’t stop you. But it’s a dangerous road you’re going down, and I’d hate to see you get hurt again.”

”I know, mom. But I’m stronger than I used to be. I’m doing this because I want to, not because I feel I have to, or because I’m scared of what’ll happen if I don’t. I feel like it’s a chapter I can only finish if I write the last few sentences. But I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

”That man caused the both of us, as well as your biological father, a lot of harm and grief, sweetie. I’m not sure why you want to do this. Forgive him? Punish him? If it were up to me, I’d let him rot in whatever dungeon Le Bord de Dieu is keeping him in.”

”He’s a specter looming over us, mom. The only way we get rid of him is by humanizing him and making sure he can’t hurt us anymore. Aveline can’t do that for us. It’s something we must do ourselves. As far as Bordy is concerned, he has outlived his usefulness, but unless we, or I, can confront him one last time, it’ll always be like his vice grip over us hasn’t truly dwindled. I want to do this, so I can finally banish him from our minds, as well as our lives.”

Mary sighed and poured some wine in her glass.

”If it’ll help you, then by all means.”

Angelica perked up a little. Knowing she had her mother’s blessing definitely made her feel a little bit better. But it wasn’t going to make the task at hand any easier.


A Day Later…
Lacklanland
At the mansion’s gates

It was home away from home, but didn’t really feel like it right now. Still the Thanksgiving party was about to kick off, and judging from the excited text messages from her sister, they were in for one heck of an evening.

Quote:”Sis, we have the biggest bird in a decade coming up! It’s been brining and cooking for DAYS! And the creamed onions! So. Many. Creamed. Onions! And I HOPE you haven’t forgotten to bring the SPECIALLY designed dress I sent you a week ago that matches my outfit. The rags you sometimes dress in, I cannot even! Hurry up! Kenzi’s hungry as flame, and Step Mumsie is getting drunk already.”

Angelica smiled. Sarah sure seemed excited, but she had some business to take care of first.

She entered the main hall, but rather than take the grand staircase up to the dining room, she turned left to a hidden side alley that led to the compound’s dungeon. As soon as she did so, the temperature seemed to drop by quite a few degrees, and the walls of stone were cold and damp. The torches in their sconces weren’t lit, and so Angelica had to use the flashlight on the phone to guide her.

Eventually she arrived at the dungeon(s) proper. The cells were empty, but one door was guarded by two stout Lacklanlanders dressed in ceremonial garbs. As Angelica approached, they crossed their spears, signaling that none were to pass. But Angie wasn’t going to take that as an answer.

”Hi! This is the door to Richard Vaughn’s cell, isn’t it? I have business inside, please let me through.”

They looked at each other hesitantly. They obviously knew who she was. But their orders were clear.

“Many apologies, Your Highness. But this area is off limits. Orders from the Queen herself.”

”My friend, I am going through this door, and I would rather ask the forgiveness of Aveline Lacklan, than ask for her permission. If Le Bord de Dieu wants to punish me for my transgressions, then she can try to do so. But you will not stop me. Now would you kindly move aside? This doesn’t need to get more complicated than it is.”

After a few more moments’ hesitation, they eventually lifted their spears, allowing Angie safe passage. She nodded appreciatively and went through the door. What she saw there, was… not what she had expected. The place seemed like a library. It was spacious, the walls were lined with shelves, and rows upon rows of old books and scrolls were stacked upon them. In the center was a table, where an old man sat. He was short and stout, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. The years had not been kind to him. His skin had a pale, yellowish hue, and the remainder of his hair was little more than a few thin threads hanging from his temples and the back of his head. As he looked up and recognized Angelica, his mouth shrunk as if he had just bitten into a lemon. Angelica stood tall, however, not letting the sight of the man who had ruined her childhood get to her.

”Father. How do you do?”

No answer came. Instead, he just slammed shut the book he was reading and looked at her with disgust. The same disgust she’d seen in his eyes for the first decade and a half of her life.
But Angelica now saw him for what he truly was. He was broken. Harmless. He wasn’t a specter, he was a wisp, waiting to be snuffed out.

”You’ve aged. You’re a far cry from the man who convinced my pregnant mother to abandon my birthplace and birthright. Seeing you like this doesn’t give me pleasure, but it does give me peace. My partner Maddy may not be able to set his abusive father free, but I do possess that power. Tomorrow, you and I walk out of this place, and you will leave to never return. You will not speak to me, or of me. I have arranged a cottage in New Zealand for you to live out the rest of your life. You’ll be sent a monthly stipend that you’re free to complement however you see fit. You’ll be able to live comfortably, and without worry. Some might say that is more than you deserve, but if we can’t find it in ourselves to forgive those who wronged us, then maybe we’re not as gracious as we think we are. This is farewell, father. Thank you, for finally going away for good.”

Angelica turned around, and left the broken man behind.


[Image: dNzoMKD.jpg]

”Hi-hiiii~ my precious Vaughnstars! Angie here, as you can see, and I’m here in Lacklanland, making my way up to another EPIC and TOTES AMAZEBALLZ supes legendary-as-flame Lacklan Thanksgiving dinner party! But before I get drunk on creamed onions and overeat on punch, let me address you guys for a bit, because there is a LOT we need to get to!

I won my first title in the XWF recently, and as all champs must do, they have to fend off challengers. And as my theme song goes: I WILL DEFEND, I WILL DEFEND! And defend it I will, against James Raven and Atara Themis. One’s a bonafide Hall of Famer, the other is a mainstay in the XWF Top 50 of all time! Considering how many excellent superstars have passed through the XWF over the years, that alone makes Atara a fearsome challenger.

So James AND Atara Raven? Wel, that ain’t no A Flock of Seagulls, my friends, and this ain’t no A Flock of Seagulls concert. It’s an Unkindness of Ravens, or so I believe it’s called. Now, a lot has been said about that name, as I’m sure you’re all aware. That’s what a group of Ravens is called, after all. But do any of you know *why*?

Well, a quick search on birdfact dot com, learns us that they were called that because ravens never seemed to care about their young. Sometimes, they’d expel them out into the real world before they were well and truly ready.

Now, I know you’re both new parents, James and Atara. And for what it’s worth, I think you’ll both do a job that is totes amazeballz, and that kid is lucky to have two such supremely talented parents. Honestly, I do. But as far as Maddy and I go, we did grow up in an Unkindness. We had parents that didn’t care about us, and both of us were expelled out into the real world before we were well and truly ready. And we’ve had to face the real world, and its harsh reality, head on. And I dare say the both of us did a great job.

So Atara? James? If that Unkindness couldn’t stop us, what on the face of this big blue ball that we call Earth makes you think that you can? We’ve faced tougher challenges than you, although maybe not inside of that very square circle that has four corners.

Now, I know my taggie is a weirdo and a bit of a creep. I know he’s volatile and unpredictable, but he’s also very talented. If he performs like I know he can, then honestly? You don’t stand a chance. I know I will need him at my back, because I can’t do it all by myself. That’s what good teams do, they complement each other. In the end, that will be the deciding factor of this match. We’re either on the verge of something special, or a thing that “could’ve been”… I choose to believe in the former. I didn’t come this far to go down without the fight of my lifetime. So prepare for the #Vaughnemous, because it’s coming, and it’s going to kick your head in.”]]> <![CDATA[A literal dumpster fire]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45154 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 22:25:58 -0800 Marf]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45154

I can almost see it,
That dream I'm dreaming.
But there's a voice inside my head saying,
You'll never reach it.

Every step I'm taking,
Every move I make feels,
Lost with no direction.
My faith is shaking.
But I, I gotta keep trying,
Gotta keep my head held high.

There's always gonna be another mountain,
I'm always gonna wanna make it move.
Always gonna be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.
Ain't about how fast I get there,
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side.
It's the climb…


A raspy voice manages to cut through the static silence of Marf’s zoned out attention.

…ry Christmas…merry Christmas…kiss my ass…kiss his ass…kiss your ass…happy Ha…

Marf blinks a few times and looks around at the crowded bus shelter. A light snow has begrudgingly started to sprinkle down from the cloudy November evening. Marf grinds his teeth while eyeing all the Christmas shoppers like enemies. Like vultures swarming to pick scraps, these maggots known as human beings look back and forth sharply. Desperately trying to eye another Black Friday deal to rip from someone else’s hands. Tis the season and all that shit. An already crowded looking bus rolls up to the terminal and before Marf can even utter a simple fuck off, several people have begun to cram themselves into the cramped bus.

Fuck it, I’ll take a cab instead…

Despite muttering that to himself someone else pipes up.

Sorry, what was that my Yuletide brethren?

Marf slowly cocks his head in the direction of a man clearly plucked right out of an early 90s Sears catalogue. His lip curls into a snarl as he responds.

I said season’s greetings and go fuck yourself.

Marf stomps off from the bus stop before the stranger even has a chance to piss himself. Marf jogs over to a busier looking street and amazingly hails a cab over pretty quickly. He opens the door to the back seat before stopping and turning to look over at the bus stop and once more. He shakes his head and turns to get into the cab when he’s startled to find another larger man already in the back seat. With a big blue coat and shitty looking mustache he seems oddly familiar. Before Marf can say anything the cab drives off without him.

What the hell is this? Some Christmas scenarios bullshit?

Marf starts walking down the street to look for another cab. After only a few minutes a DeLorean suddenly pulls up and this adventure is quickly coming off the rails. A strange man that is either in his 50s or 80s hops out of the vehicle as Marf just stands there shaking his head.

Great Scott! Marfy, what in the name of Sir Isaac H Newton is happening here!?

Marf throws his hands up in frustration but calms his temptation to break into a wicked guitar solo.

Fuck sakes you’re a pay per view too late. What’s even going on?

Marfy you need to listen to me carefully! You’re not in your own world, but I can getcha back! You just have to…

He is literally cut short as an axe comes crashing down on top of his skull, nearly splitting it in half. The man from the DeLorean drops to the ground in a heap while Marf groans. A deranged man pulls the axe free before bringing it down on the poor, now dead guy. Blood and flesh splatters as the maniac looks up at Marf and smiles.

Heeeeeeere’s Johnny!

The man wrenches to free his axe while Marf just turns away in impatience.

Nope. Nothing about this makes any sense. As per fucking usual. I’m done with this nonsense. Where’s the part where I cut a promo? I don’t anymore of this bullshit nonsense. It’s not like anyone else actually pays attention to this shit anyways! Get me the fuck outta here…

Things all around Marf begin to blow up in slow motion as though he was in a Christopher Nolan film. Far too many movie themes are getting mixed together and this whole damn thing is collapsing on itself. Marf suddenly runs full tilt at a wall and disappears into it. We don’t even know if that’s a Harry Potter reference or not but it’s time to end this shit before anything else is mixed in. If you’ve come this far you deserve a fuckin’ medal.

Thankfully all of the nonsensical scenery fades off which brings us to our most important part!


Promo Times!



Well let’s start this off the proper way and offer up a tremendous fuck you to the one and hopefully only, Micheal Graves! For whatever reason, you stuck your crooked nose into my business, blinded me and cost me not just the match but my Xtreme title. Whatever point you were trying to prove failed miserably much like your career. I hope that twatboy Mark Flynn does to you what he couldn’t do to me and puts you down permanently. Until then, I guess I owe ya one, buddy.

Might wanna invest in some nifty fuckin’ goggles…

Marf gives one of his more polite snarls and cracks his knuckles before moving on.

With that out of the way, I’d like to take a moment to send out a more, sentimental fuck you to that sultry, hairless slut known as Jenny Myst. You, along with quite a bit of help, got one over on me. Well done. I see you’re very proud of what you’re calling your win. Flynn carried your ass through that match and it still took some Gravey fuckery to ensure you stole the victory. It’s actually fuckin’ pathetic that you’re gloating about it but if that’s your flex, have at it bridge troll. Just remember one thing though, Jen.

And right on cue, Marf leans way in for this.

This isn’t over and everything that happens from here on out is solely your fault, Jenny...

Marf stares menacingly into the camera for a moment before suddenly jumping back and shooting his arms out to the sides.

Back to our regularly scheduled program! Isiah, what the fuck is up bro!? Looks like I owe you an introductory faaaack you it seems! You have been around for a hot minute and already claimed a television title, nice job. Granted it was in the middle of that title bouncing from body to body each week but kudos to you good sir. At least you haven’t dropped it already. No, your failure needs to be on more of a grand stage. We’re going to have the entire world watch as you fall from your imaginary throne.

Marf makes a crash and burn motion with his hands while whistling.

I am going to take a minute to level with you though, Isaiah. That television title you’re grasping onto so proudly? I don’t want it right now. I have no interest in that title or in you. It just so happens that management loves throwing me into title match after title match. People might not admit they like ole Marfy but they’ll pay an arm and a leg to watch me inflict several different kinds of pain on this roster. Ya know, I’ve seen you ‘round these parts, talking about thrones and shit. Listen, I didn’t care for game of thrones. I thought it was an over rated pile of shit, not far off from you funny enough. So I’m not here to play in your game, I’m far too busy with my own. Perhaps you have already seen it but doubtful if you actually understood.

Marf takes a moment and mimes swinging a weapon of some sort. The way his hands are positioned, our guess would be a delightful steel folding chair.

You see Isaiah, there’s not much for us to really talk about here. You’re going to earn the victory at Bad Medicine because I don’t care for you. I’ve got someone special waiting for me. Maybe they don’t realize it, but as the game plays out they will. A loss over you doesn’t change any of the not so pleasant things I intend on doing over the next little while. Nothing you do will change the future I have planned. Just hug that title close and keep holding onto that fantasy about getting pegged by a dragon or some shit…

…but don’t you think it will be an easy victory.

Marf leans back and smiles far too wide even Richard Ramirez would get chills.

I may not intend to scrape by with a win over you, Isaiah…but that don’t mean I’m not intending on hurting you. It certainly doesn’t mean I have no intentions on making you bleed on that grand stage. We’ll paint the town red with one another’s blood at Bad Medicine. Just like those that have come before you, Isaiah, you will not be the same after entering the ring against Marf. Whether you under estimate me or over value me, none of it fuckin’ matters you dollar store Ahmed Johnson.

When you go to battle with me, the one and motherfuckin’ only Marf, there’s no walking away unscathed. Make your jokes, talk your shit, and cherish your remaining hours with a full mouth of teeth still. Soon we go to war. And I truly have nothing to lose my new friend. I will do whatever the fuck I feel like to you. Good luck raising the title or even standing up once I’m through with your sorry ass. Hmm, it actually just sucks being you right now, doesn’t it?

You lose, and it is bye bye title for you. A fall from your shit stained throne.

You win, and whatever is left of your broken carcass with be picked apart by the scavengers. Before you know it Big Preesh is waddling off with your title while farting your theme song. Not a whole helluva lot to brag about eh?

Marf leans in one last time for effect while still grinning like a maniac.

So, no matter what transpires at Bad Medicine, Isaiah…

…you lose!

And with that we fade to that comforting black darkness. Fuck you very much and goodnight! ]]>

I can almost see it,
That dream I'm dreaming.
But there's a voice inside my head saying,
You'll never reach it.

Every step I'm taking,
Every move I make feels,
Lost with no direction.
My faith is shaking.
But I, I gotta keep trying,
Gotta keep my head held high.

There's always gonna be another mountain,
I'm always gonna wanna make it move.
Always gonna be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.
Ain't about how fast I get there,
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side.
It's the climb…


A raspy voice manages to cut through the static silence of Marf’s zoned out attention.

…ry Christmas…merry Christmas…kiss my ass…kiss his ass…kiss your ass…happy Ha…

Marf blinks a few times and looks around at the crowded bus shelter. A light snow has begrudgingly started to sprinkle down from the cloudy November evening. Marf grinds his teeth while eyeing all the Christmas shoppers like enemies. Like vultures swarming to pick scraps, these maggots known as human beings look back and forth sharply. Desperately trying to eye another Black Friday deal to rip from someone else’s hands. Tis the season and all that shit. An already crowded looking bus rolls up to the terminal and before Marf can even utter a simple fuck off, several people have begun to cram themselves into the cramped bus.

Fuck it, I’ll take a cab instead…

Despite muttering that to himself someone else pipes up.

Sorry, what was that my Yuletide brethren?

Marf slowly cocks his head in the direction of a man clearly plucked right out of an early 90s Sears catalogue. His lip curls into a snarl as he responds.

I said season’s greetings and go fuck yourself.

Marf stomps off from the bus stop before the stranger even has a chance to piss himself. Marf jogs over to a busier looking street and amazingly hails a cab over pretty quickly. He opens the door to the back seat before stopping and turning to look over at the bus stop and once more. He shakes his head and turns to get into the cab when he’s startled to find another larger man already in the back seat. With a big blue coat and shitty looking mustache he seems oddly familiar. Before Marf can say anything the cab drives off without him.

What the hell is this? Some Christmas scenarios bullshit?

Marf starts walking down the street to look for another cab. After only a few minutes a DeLorean suddenly pulls up and this adventure is quickly coming off the rails. A strange man that is either in his 50s or 80s hops out of the vehicle as Marf just stands there shaking his head.

Great Scott! Marfy, what in the name of Sir Isaac H Newton is happening here!?

Marf throws his hands up in frustration but calms his temptation to break into a wicked guitar solo.

Fuck sakes you’re a pay per view too late. What’s even going on?

Marfy you need to listen to me carefully! You’re not in your own world, but I can getcha back! You just have to…

He is literally cut short as an axe comes crashing down on top of his skull, nearly splitting it in half. The man from the DeLorean drops to the ground in a heap while Marf groans. A deranged man pulls the axe free before bringing it down on the poor, now dead guy. Blood and flesh splatters as the maniac looks up at Marf and smiles.

Heeeeeeere’s Johnny!

The man wrenches to free his axe while Marf just turns away in impatience.

Nope. Nothing about this makes any sense. As per fucking usual. I’m done with this nonsense. Where’s the part where I cut a promo? I don’t anymore of this bullshit nonsense. It’s not like anyone else actually pays attention to this shit anyways! Get me the fuck outta here…

Things all around Marf begin to blow up in slow motion as though he was in a Christopher Nolan film. Far too many movie themes are getting mixed together and this whole damn thing is collapsing on itself. Marf suddenly runs full tilt at a wall and disappears into it. We don’t even know if that’s a Harry Potter reference or not but it’s time to end this shit before anything else is mixed in. If you’ve come this far you deserve a fuckin’ medal.

Thankfully all of the nonsensical scenery fades off which brings us to our most important part!


Promo Times!



Well let’s start this off the proper way and offer up a tremendous fuck you to the one and hopefully only, Micheal Graves! For whatever reason, you stuck your crooked nose into my business, blinded me and cost me not just the match but my Xtreme title. Whatever point you were trying to prove failed miserably much like your career. I hope that twatboy Mark Flynn does to you what he couldn’t do to me and puts you down permanently. Until then, I guess I owe ya one, buddy.

Might wanna invest in some nifty fuckin’ goggles…

Marf gives one of his more polite snarls and cracks his knuckles before moving on.

With that out of the way, I’d like to take a moment to send out a more, sentimental fuck you to that sultry, hairless slut known as Jenny Myst. You, along with quite a bit of help, got one over on me. Well done. I see you’re very proud of what you’re calling your win. Flynn carried your ass through that match and it still took some Gravey fuckery to ensure you stole the victory. It’s actually fuckin’ pathetic that you’re gloating about it but if that’s your flex, have at it bridge troll. Just remember one thing though, Jen.

And right on cue, Marf leans way in for this.

This isn’t over and everything that happens from here on out is solely your fault, Jenny...

Marf stares menacingly into the camera for a moment before suddenly jumping back and shooting his arms out to the sides.

Back to our regularly scheduled program! Isiah, what the fuck is up bro!? Looks like I owe you an introductory faaaack you it seems! You have been around for a hot minute and already claimed a television title, nice job. Granted it was in the middle of that title bouncing from body to body each week but kudos to you good sir. At least you haven’t dropped it already. No, your failure needs to be on more of a grand stage. We’re going to have the entire world watch as you fall from your imaginary throne.

Marf makes a crash and burn motion with his hands while whistling.

I am going to take a minute to level with you though, Isaiah. That television title you’re grasping onto so proudly? I don’t want it right now. I have no interest in that title or in you. It just so happens that management loves throwing me into title match after title match. People might not admit they like ole Marfy but they’ll pay an arm and a leg to watch me inflict several different kinds of pain on this roster. Ya know, I’ve seen you ‘round these parts, talking about thrones and shit. Listen, I didn’t care for game of thrones. I thought it was an over rated pile of shit, not far off from you funny enough. So I’m not here to play in your game, I’m far too busy with my own. Perhaps you have already seen it but doubtful if you actually understood.

Marf takes a moment and mimes swinging a weapon of some sort. The way his hands are positioned, our guess would be a delightful steel folding chair.

You see Isaiah, there’s not much for us to really talk about here. You’re going to earn the victory at Bad Medicine because I don’t care for you. I’ve got someone special waiting for me. Maybe they don’t realize it, but as the game plays out they will. A loss over you doesn’t change any of the not so pleasant things I intend on doing over the next little while. Nothing you do will change the future I have planned. Just hug that title close and keep holding onto that fantasy about getting pegged by a dragon or some shit…

…but don’t you think it will be an easy victory.

Marf leans back and smiles far too wide even Richard Ramirez would get chills.

I may not intend to scrape by with a win over you, Isaiah…but that don’t mean I’m not intending on hurting you. It certainly doesn’t mean I have no intentions on making you bleed on that grand stage. We’ll paint the town red with one another’s blood at Bad Medicine. Just like those that have come before you, Isaiah, you will not be the same after entering the ring against Marf. Whether you under estimate me or over value me, none of it fuckin’ matters you dollar store Ahmed Johnson.

When you go to battle with me, the one and motherfuckin’ only Marf, there’s no walking away unscathed. Make your jokes, talk your shit, and cherish your remaining hours with a full mouth of teeth still. Soon we go to war. And I truly have nothing to lose my new friend. I will do whatever the fuck I feel like to you. Good luck raising the title or even standing up once I’m through with your sorry ass. Hmm, it actually just sucks being you right now, doesn’t it?

You lose, and it is bye bye title for you. A fall from your shit stained throne.

You win, and whatever is left of your broken carcass with be picked apart by the scavengers. Before you know it Big Preesh is waddling off with your title while farting your theme song. Not a whole helluva lot to brag about eh?

Marf leans in one last time for effect while still grinning like a maniac.

So, no matter what transpires at Bad Medicine, Isaiah…

…you lose!

And with that we fade to that comforting black darkness. Fuck you very much and goodnight! ]]> <![CDATA[Seeing The Other Side...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45153 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 22:24:25 -0800 Peter Vaughn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45153


The Road So Far:

Reflections & Resurrections, P1

Reflections & Resurrections, P2

Reflections & Resurrections, P3


[Image: executive-summary.jpg]

It hasn't been a fun ride lately for Peter Vaughn.

He lost his Supercontinental Title due to shenanigans with Charlie Nickles. He had Buster Gloves turn on him, refusing to believe that Finn Kuhn could rig a video for his own advantages. He now faces a basic Handicap match against both men at Bad Medicine.

Oh, and he's been lost throughout the incalculable dimensions of the multiverse.

That one's probably a bigger issue, all told.

Vaughn, the Head Custodian of the Custodial Coalition, previously had been tricked into being pulled into a mirror dimension by his nemesis, Bernardo, the leader of the Maintenance Mafia. This world was nearly the end for both of them, as their counterparts proved to be devious and power-hungry, just like them. Both men were forced to ally together to escape, with Bernardo having to rush into a portal jump. Instead of returning them back to their dimension, the two men ended up in a pre-historic universe. The creatures living there proved to not be very fond of human beings.

Now Vaughn and Bernardo seem to be aligned once again in their efforts to escape, each knowing that the other will betray them as soon as they find an opening. But how will it all end? I suppose we'll be finding out... shortly...


~We begin inside the former headquarters of the Maintenance Mafia. The Coalition has taken complete control of this installation, pushing the Mafia closer than ever to being obliterated. But it's come at an intense cost, with the loss of Peter Vaughn. All efforts have been made to figure out the technology that was used. All efforts have been futile. We find ourselves back in the Hall of Mirrors, the control area for the portal jumps. The hallway was once full of technicians, but now, the only person left is Bill Sykes. He is sitting there with a depressed look on his face, as he studies the mirrors once more.~

Bill Sykes: I don't know what to do, Peter. I really don't.

~Bill rubs the top of his forehead, obviously dealing with the remains of a nasty migraine.~

Bill Sykes: We tried powering this one with the Optigon. We tried crossing it with the power grid; the mayor loved that. We brought in every Mafia member who was willing to give information in exchange for leniency. None of them were on the team that worked on this. Luke even tried hacking the system for 32-hours. He's currently on enforced bed rest. Honestly, Peter, we tried everything to get you back... and we've failed you.

~A single tear runs down the side of Bill's face. He wipes it away, looking annoyed at the escaping emotion. He pushes himself to his feet, clearing his throat.~

Bill Sykes: All you need to know, Peter, is that I'll make sure the Coalition goes on... until maybe, someday, you find your way... back...

~Bill's voice fades away as there's suddenly a circle of electricity growing in the middle of the mirror at the end of the hallway. It grows larger, taking up most of the mirror, causing Bill to step back and prepare to run in case in began to act like a black hole or something. But that doesn't happen. Instead, a single individual comes toppling through the portal, falling to the ground in front of Bill.~

Bill Sykes: Oh my God! PETER!!!

~Bill runs to Vaughn's side, helping the man up, as the portal begins to close behind him. As it disappear, Vaughn glances back at it, as if waiting for something else to happen. It doesn't, so Vaughn slumps partially onto Bill. He's covered in blood across the front of his outfit. It's unclear how much belonged to him. Bill takes Vaughn over to the chair, sitting him down. Vaughn winces, with Bill taking in the wound across his side.~

Bill Sykes: You're hurt!

~Bill pulls out his communicator, quickly dialing for the right number.~

Bill Sykes: This is Sykes in the Mirror Room! Vaughn is back, repeat, Vaughn is back!! I need medical here immediately!

~We hear the startled response, but Bill doesn't bother listening to it. He leans over Vaughn, checking on him.~

Peter Vaughn: It's... good to see you, too, Bill. Don't worry... I think it's just... a flesh wound... or two...

Bill Sykes: What the hell happened, P... Mr. Vaughn? Where have you been?

Peter Vaughn: That's... a long story, Bill. And it's one that... doesn't really need to be heard. I just... want a shower... a beer... and a long rest...

Bill Sykes: We'll do what we can, sir.

~A medical crew comes hurrying in with a stretcher and supplies. Bill helps Vaughn over to the stretcher, getting him situated. All throughout, Vaughn keeps looking back at the mirror, staring at his own reflection, while also reliving what he just experienced... ~


[Image: DbA7AhUW4AId0-B.jpg]

~We find ourselves in a large jungle area, overgrown for the most part. There are the sounds of exotic birds and other animals, some of which don't sound at all familiar. The camera pans down on a section of bushes, which are moving slightly. Slowly, Peter Vaughn's head appears, looking over the top in both directions. He nods, then lowers back down. Our perspective changes, showing Vaughn kneeling in the bushes beside Bernardo, who appears to be frantically working on his technology.~

Peter Vaughn: How's it coming?

Bernardo: Don't rush me, stupido! It's getting there!

Peter Vaughn: I'm sorry if you feel rushed, asshole, but those Bigfoot bastards are probably tracking us down again right now...

Bernardo: Then keep your annoying voice down and let me work!

~Bernardo seems to be trying a method to speed up the recharge of the device, as we can see a green line slowly going upwards. It's not moving fast enough for either man.~

Peter Vaughn: Man, I should have left you behind...

Bernardo: Without this? Even you're not hard-headed enough to believe you could build something like this yourself.

Peter Vaughn: I could have gotten it back from your corpse...

~Bernardo scoffs, as he continues his work. Both men know that they're stuck with each other, at least for now, as Bernardo's sore ankle will keep him from being able to defend himself. There's a sudden, strange howl in the air, which brings Vaughn back to his feet. He peers around, seeing nothing, but his instincts are telling him he's being watched. He reaches into his pocket, fiddling with something, before turning back to Bernardo and pulling him up.~

Peter Vaughn: They're coming again. We need to get moving.

Bernardo: Don't they have anything better to do??

Peter Vaughn: I don't think any other entertainment has been created in this reality. Let's get going. How much longer?

Bernardo: Five minutes. Maybe less.

Peter Vaughn: Sure you don't want me to carry it?

Bernardo: Don't make me laugh.

~The two men start moving through the jungle, trying to be as quiet as possible, although it's not easy on a bad ankle for Bernardo. They move further towards what looks to be a river of some kind. Crossing it is out of the question, it's way too strong a flow. They start moving alongside it... just as a large, wooden spear lands near them.~

Peter Vaughn: Ah, shit...

Bernardo: RUN!!!

Peter Vaughn: No, really? I was going to negotiate!

~They run on, while we can see several creatures popping out of the jungle behind them. They're hard to describe, as they're completely different from anything that's ever been seen on our Earth. Really, "Bigfoot" is probably the best description. Maybe this is the universe they come from. Either way, they're intent on killing their prey, loping after Bernardo and Vaughn. One of them steps out in front of the fleeing duo, howling. Vaughn scoops up a rock on the fly and lets loose, cracking it across the creature's head. It falls, with Vaughn & Bernardo hurrying past. There's a beeping coming from Bernardo's wrist.~

Peter Vaughn: Fuck, they're gaining... can't you move faster??

Bernardo: You want to be the one with a sprain, pendajo?? It doesn't matter anyway, I think we're out of here!

~Bernardo triggers the dimensional device, shooting a beam in front of him. A portal opens, spinning around wildly. All of the creatures suddenly stop in their tracks, apparently scared by the strange sight.~

Peter Vaughn: You a little more sure about your coordinates this time?

Bernardo: Trust me, there's no interference on this trip. We're going exactly where I want us to go.

~Bernardo hides a dark smile, as he begins to move forward towards the portal. One more spear comes flying in, but thankfully, it goes right between the two men, shooting through the portal. It disappears from sight. Vaughn, having no other option, jumps with Bernardo through, and both men vanish... ~

~Only to appear out the other side, shooting out of the portal in front of what appears to be an apartment building. Both men turn and look behind him, to see if any of the creatures are brave enough to try leaping through. None appear. The portal closes, sealing them off from that strange world. Vaughn nods, then looks to his side, noticing the wooden spear sticking out of the side of the building.~

Peter Vaughn: Huh. Guess that spear gained some momentum on the way through. So is this right, Bernardo? Are we... home... wait a second...

~Vaughn suddenly looks around, realizing that street that they're on. He steps forward, checking out the building in front of him.~

Peter Vaughn: This... this is my... my old apartment building. What are we doing here, Bernardo? Bernardo?

~Vaughn glances around behind him. While he was distracted, Bernardo appears to have taken off. Vaughn shrugs, checking something in his pocket, before stepping up to the building.~

Peter Vaughn: What a crazy coincidence. I even recognize some of these names... Zydalgo... Benson... V... Vaughn??

~Confused, Vaughn looks closer at the names of the tenants, as the camera zooms in... clearly showing us the name "Vaughn" on one of the buttons. Vaughn stands there, stunned, as the video cuts away.~


You never know where you're going to find your name, do you?

For instance, I didn't expect to hear my name mentioned by Finn Kuhn as his excuse out of trouble. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the word was broken that Finn was the man who rigged the I Quit match against Buster Gloves, I was the one who happened to be there to save Buster from a vicious beating from the man. I knew Finn wanted revenge after that. I just figured he'd be man enough to come right at me on his own.

Instead, he dials up a completely obviously rigged video, claiming that I was actually the one who arranged for Buster to say "I Quit". I mean, obvious to anyone besides someone of Buster's apparent intelligence, because he bought it, hook, line, & stinker. He wasn't alone, as I know most of the XWF audience also believes that I must have been the one to set up that loss. Of course, they're all idiots, so it's not that big of a shock.

But I just want to know, why does everyone out there see Finn as some sort of good guy savant? Why do you put him on so high a pedestal, that he 'obviously' wouldn't do something like this? Why don't they see the obvious?

Here's the thing: if Finn was such a great guy, why didn't he protest the ending to that I Quit match at Relentless? Did you hear him saying "That didn't happen, I want this match restarted"? No. Did you hear him screaming at the ref that the win was tainted and it should be taken from him? No. What you saw was Finn acting like he was confused, while gladly taking the victory that he badly needed at an XWF Pay-Per-View.

How about after that? Once Buster & Finn began talking about how everything was rigged, did Finn tell Buster that he'd give him half his PPV winnings from the match? I sure as hell didn't hear about it. Finn kept every cent that he got from that 'rigged' ending, working perfectly to his own satisfaction. Has he gone to the XWF leadership and said to strike that win from his record, since it shouldn't count? Hell no. He's PROUD of winning at Relentless!

So again, what makes people see Finn as the good guy here? He's taken advantage of everything that he's gotten, whether you believe he arranged it or not. And now, he's again rigged things to his advantage. He's arranged with his little video to make it a Handicap match, myself against Finn & Buster. And how long does Buster think that's going to last? Because as soon as Buster turns his back, I'm certain that Finn will try to end Buster's career with another pin, crushing his hopes and dreams here in the XWF.

And Finn's going to trumpet that from the heavens, how he ended Buster's career and got one over on the Mechanic.

But I'm not going to let that happen.

You're not going to succeed, you despicable piece of turd trash. I'm not going to let it go down. If it means I have to break both of you, ending BOTH of your careers, that's what I'm going to do.

Then we'll see if everyone still wants to think of Finn as some kind of glorious god, or if they'll finally see him for the fallen angel he really is.


~After a few moments of rare indecision, Vaughn reaches a finger out towards the Vaughn button. He stops, though, thinking it over.~

Peter Vaughn: These have to be old, right? They just... they haven't gotten around to replacing them yet. It's the only thing that makes sense...

~Vaughn thinks about it a little longer, then reaches out, pressing the button for Zydalgo instead.~

Voice: Yes?

Peter Vaughn: Hi, umm, you probably don't remember me, but...

Voice: Oh, is that you, Peter?

~Startled, Vaughn looks at the speaker for a second, then shakes it off.~

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, yeah, it's me. I'm surprised you recognized my voice...

Voice: It hasn't been THAT long, Peter. So you forgot your keys again?

Peter Vaughn: I... er...

Voice: *sigh* Just remember me next time we need some work done on our sinks, okay?

~The door buzzes open, with Vaughn instinctively reaching forward to open it while it's still triggered. The speaker cuts off, even as Vaughn turns back to it.~

Peter Vaughn: Ummm.... thanks?

~Predictably, there's no response.~

Peter Vaughn: Gotta be an Alzheimer's situation...

~Vaughn slips inside, checking out the lobby.~

Peter Vaughn: Hmmm. Looks about how I remember it, if much worse off. I'm surprised this place is still standing, though, so I guess it's doing better than I expected. Wonder who's in the old apartment?

~Vaughn heads to the elevator, pressing the button. Nothing happens. Vaughn scoffs at it.~

Peter Vaughn: Figures. The slumlords wouldn't keep these maintained, would they? Looks like it's the stairs. Good, I could use some exercise, since I have a match to prepare for.

~Vaughn turns and jogs to the stairway, heading up two flights as quickly as possible. He stops on the third flight, considering the steps there.~

Peter Vaughn: Right there. That's the step I sat on when my father told me Mom had left us. She didn't even have the courage to tell me face-to-face. Yeah, lot of memories here....

~Vaughn can almost see the crying kid sitting there, being comforted by his father. He puts it aside, though, and heads up to the final floor, making his way down to his old apartment. He stands in front of it, focusing on the numbers on the door.~

Peter Vaughn: They never did tell me who had moved in once Dad was put into hospice care and passed away. Odds are it was someone desperate. Who else would want to live here? I wonder...

~Vaughn's hand hovers forward, as if to knock on the door, but he doesn't seem to want to take that final step. He shakes his head.~

Peter Vaughn: Nah. They don't need some former resident stalking them. The past deserves to stay in the past, anyway.

~Vaughn turns to leave, ready to go check on how things are going with the Coalition. That's when the door opens, and a voice shocks him to his core.~

Voice: Peter! You made it!!

~A man steps into the hall, giving Peter a big hug, with Peter too stunned to return it. His eyes have gone wide, enough to see the whites more than the iris.~

Peter Vaughn: D... Dad??

~Vaughn's father comes out of the hug, smiling widely.~

Mr. Vaughn: Wow, have you been working out? I'm impressed son. I was never one to be in tremendous shape, myself.

~Peter has no response, as Mr. Vaughn pats his son on the shoulder.~

Mr. Vaughn: Come on in! You're welcome, as always!

~Peter, completely shellshocked at this point, lets himself be led inside, as the door shuts behind them.~


Sometimes no matter how hard you prepare yourself, you can be taken by surprise.

That's how I felt the day that Buster Gloves turned on me.

You know the worst part, Buster? I've always been in your corner, whether you knew it or not. For some reason, you seem to blame me for you not getting into CCPE, but you're completely wrong on that aspect. I talked you up to Chris Page. I wanted you in with us, as part of the greatest wrestlers in the world today.

But Chris has a different view than I do. He's been in the business a lot longer, and he said that you weren't ready. No matter how much I disagreed with him, there was nothing I could do. He was the boss.

He was also right. You weren't ready, Buster. I'm ashamed of myself for not seeing it beforehand, really. You proved that by taking losses in Level Up, and then coming into the XWF the way you did. You lacked the fire that you used to have. I don't really know what happened there, Bust, but you lived up to your name for a while there.

But I was still pulling for you. I was rooting for you in the back when you went at it with that bloodthirsty Finn. I thought you were going to take him down for sure. But no, you let yourself get put in a position where you could lose, and you lost. I mean, I don't think you were getting out of that submission hold anyway, the way Finn leveraged it. But even with the controversial ending, you put yourself there. You allowed Finn to beat you the way he did, and I tell you, Finn is still bragging about it to this day.

That's when everything went down, didn't it? You found out about the secret video showing Finn betraying you. You lost your cool and allowed Finn to KO you. Then I stepped in. But even with my backing you 100 percent, wanting you to find that fire again, you quickly turned on me as soon as you thought you had a smidgen of reason to. You immediately believed the media and the fans that I'm some evil snake in the grass.

Well, that's a damn sight better than being a little lamb with no way to protect himself.

I will say this, Bust, you seem to have gotten some of that fire back, and I'm glad. I'm sorry it took such an unlikely turn of events for it to happen, but maybe you can still save your XWF career. Maybe you can pull your ass out of the fire before it's cooked entirely. But it's going to take you opening your eyes and seeing the truth.

I've always just wanted the best for you, Bust. Sometimes that might mean I'll have to dish out tough love. But I haven't given up on your damn ass yet.

So if you end up taking the Plunge, remember: it's for your own good, you son of a bitch.


~We're inside the Vaughn apartment now, as Peter is still staggered by the sight of everything around him. All the furniture he remembers, with a few new additions here and there. He looks in every direction, taking it all in, as his father walks in behind him.~

Mr. Vaughn: I'm happy you were able to get away from that custodial conference you told us about. It really wasn't Thanksgiving here without you. Hey, Ma, guess who showed up??

~Peter looks forward, stunned again as a woman comes walking out of the kitchen area, holding a pumpkin pie fresh from the oven. She smiles brightly at Peter, hurrying to put down the pie so she can give her son a hug.~

Peter Vaughn: Mom??

Mrs. Vaughn: Peter! It's wonderful to have you here!!

Peter Vaughn: I... I don't understand...

Mrs. Vaughn: Thomas! Come on out and see your brother!

Peter Vaughn: Thomas? He's here too??

~Vaughn turns as the bedroom door opens and Thomas walks out. But this isn't the Thomas Hill we've seen on television many times, the half-brother of Peter Vaughn. This Thomas has different features, and even appears to be a little taller. If anything, you can see the resemblance of Vaughn's father shining through. The man walks forward, extending a hand.~

Thomas Vaughn: Glad you got your foot out of your ass and came here, Pete.

Mrs. Vaughn: Now don't be like that, Thomas! You know your brother has a lot of responsibilities!

Thomas Vaughn: Sure, sure. Lots of plumbing projects to run.

Mr. Vaughn: Now, son, I've told you before, if you enjoy the work, it's as important as you want it to be. Now, c'mon, Peter, we were just getting ourselves ready for the meal.

~Peter's mom grabs his arm as he is almost dragged into the kitchen/dining area. It's a small set-up, but it's still big enough for four people. Peter takes a seat, as his mom goes to get another place setting. Thomas sits to his right, looking a little arrogant the way he leans back in his chair. Mr. Vaughn steps to the other side, where the turkey is currently waiting being carved.~

Mr. Vaughn: With this miracle in hand, let's get to eating!

Mrs. Vaughn: Hold your horses, Papa, let me get the plate down at least!

~Mrs. Vaughn gets Peter set up, then sits down across from him. They all bow for a quick prayer, with Peter being the only one not to close his eyes. Then the feast begins.~

Mr. Vaughn: You'll want one of the turkey legs, right, Peter?

Peter Vaughn: I... don't you want it... Dad?

Mr. Vaughn: With my cholesterol? Trust me, your mother wouldn't let it happen. I have to eat as lightly as possible.

Mrs. Vaughn: Oh, yeah, blame me for keeping you alive, hon.

~The two laugh, as Peter shakes his head in bewilderment. He looks over at his mom, thinking things through.~

Peter Vaughn: So... you two seem to be doing pretty well. You, uh... you haven't had any problems over the years?

Mrs. Vaughn: What, you mean... as a married couple?

Mr. Vaughn: Strange question for the dinner table, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, I know. I just... you know, there are a lot of couples that haven't lasted as long as you have...

Mrs. Vaughn: Oh, well, like any marriage, we've had our... difficulties. You know it almost reached... well, thankfully, it never did. We worked through it, and now we're happier than ever.

Peter Vaughn: And still living here...

Thomas Vaughn: Hey, I've offered to move them to a better house, since, y'know, I'm the one you can afford it. They just won't move.

Mrs. Vaughn: Why would we? This is our home. It's where we raised our children. It's where so much of our life has come together. No, we're not going anywhere.

~Vaughn sits quietly for a few seconds, ignoring the passing around of dishes around him. He's working things out in his head.~

Peter Vaughn: So... that pretty much decides it. I'm in an alternate dimension still.

Mr. Vaughn: Excuse me, son?

Peter Vaughn: But the only difference... the moment that changed anything... is that you never left, Mom...

Mrs. Vaughn: I... I don't understand...

Peter Vaughn: It was you... you did this...

~Peter's tone is darker now, surprising everyone in the room. They look at him with concern and some worry as he stands up, glaring at each one of them, before focusing on his mother.

Peter Vaughn: It's all your fault...

~Peter looks furious, as his 'mother' can only sputter in confusion as we cut away.~


It's all your fault.

It's your fault that I'm going to be crashing your little Handicap party by taking the fight to both of you.

It's your fault that I'll be bringing my best game once again, ready to annihilate anyone standing in my way.

It's your fault that I'm going to have to break both of you, instead of just one.

It could have been so different. If you were smarter, Bust, we could have become a hell of a team in the XWF. I would have pulled you along to so many titles. The tag division is disintegrated right now. We would have ruled over it. But you couldn't look past your rage and see the glory that could have been.

If you were less arrogant, Finnigan, you would have let it happen. You would have given Bust his chance to actually be a success here. But you couldn't do it. You couldn't fight him fairly, and you had to rig the game in your favor. You had to be a degenerate dickhead who shows one face to the crowd while laughing at them in the back.

If either of you was worth more, you'd be able to stand up against me one on one, and try to prove yourselves that way. But you want to both fight me and make your path easier. It saddens me that the XWF is becoming this way. Unbalanced. Undisciplined. Unintelligent.

Let me ask you this, Bust: has Finn implied at any time that he'd be willing for you to take the pin on me? No, I'm sure he hasn't, because Finn has no intention of losing this match. He wants to win it, and he'll gladly backstab you the second you guys think you have me down. I wouldn't be surprised if his master plan is to pin you, since he knows how difficult it is to keep my shoulders on the mat.

If you actually could pull a few brain cells into a group and make them work, Bust, you'd realize that your best chance is to backstab him first. Trick Finn into thinking you guys are working together, then break his heart with one punch. You could probably even make him tap out to that, and honestly, I'd have to really debate whether or not I'd break that up.

I want to win, but more than that, I want to see Finney Kumby suffer.

So by all means, Bust, feel free to bloody Finn up some. I won't stand against it. I'll even help out. But I don't see you accepting that, since you're so damn stubborn and unable to see the truth no matter how obvious it is. You're just too distrusting, too disturbed by your rage.

So, yep. It's all your fault. Accept the blame, because the punishment is coming.


~The family is shocked into silence as Peter Vaughn is on his feet, having shoved his chair against the wall. He starts pacing back and forth, ignoring them, as he fumes.~

Mr. Vaughn: Peter... Peter, please, talk to us. What's going on?

Peter Vaughn: It's her fault. It's all her fault...

Mr. Vaughn: What, son? What did your mother do?

~Mr. Vaughn looks over at his wife, who is starting to cry, having no idea what's going on. Thomas is up as well now, looking pissed at his brother's actions.~

Peter Vaughn: If it wasn't for her... you'd be dead, Dad.

~Mr. Vaughn gasps, taking this almost as a threat as he steps backwards.~

Peter Vaughn: If it wasn't for her... you wouldn't be the same, 'Tom'...

~Peter says that very derogatory, causing Thomas to flare up in anger. He starts to step forward... and Peter steps into a superkick, knocking Thomas out with one shot!!! Thomas goes down hard, as both parents yell out in shock and dismay.~

Peter Vaughn: If it wasn't for her... I wouldn't be what I am today...

~That seems to slow Peter down slightly, as he stops at a nearby counter. He picks up a picture, which shows a happy Peter Vaughn, smiling, alongside his family. It looks like they found a way to get to Six Flags and take a picture there. It was probably the best theme park they could afford, but they appear to have had a great time. Peter glares at the photo, then throws it to the side, shattering it.~

Mrs. Vaughn: Oh my god!! Peter, please, STOP!!

Peter Vaughn: I'm not your Peter... I'm not that wuss who decided to stay a janitor, a pussy who couldn't even fight back against his own shadow. I'm Peter Vaughn, Four-Time World Champion! And here... I'll never be that... never...

~Mr. Vaughn steps forward, reaching out for his son.~

Mr. Vaughn: You're having a breakdown, Peter. Please, let us help you!

~Peter responds with an uppercut, sending his father stumbling back into the cabinet on the wall. A few plates fall and crash to the ground, as Mr. Vaughn drops to the ground, holding his chest. His wife runs to him, kneeling next to him.~

Mrs. Vaughn: His heart!

~As Mrs. Vaughn comforts her husband, Peter reaches onto the table... picking up a large carving knife. He considers it, before turning towards his 'mom'.~

Peter Vaughn: You take all the blame for this... mother. Damn you. Damn you to hell.

Mrs. Vaughn: Please... please... please...

~Peter watches her cradle Mr. Vaughn, trying to protect him. He looks over to the downed Thomas, who still hasn't moved. Peter then shakes his head, then checks something in his pocket.~

Peter Vaughn: You're all lucky I have someplace to be.

~Peter turns, walking away without another word. He leaves behind destruction in his path, as the Vaughn household here will never be the same.~


It's been said that I can bring devastation wherever I go.

I still get some blame for what happened in OCW, unfair though that might be. But then, when you're the World Champion when the whole place turns upside-down, they can't help but accuse the guy at the top, even if he didn't stick around for the chaos afterwards.

I was the International Champion in TPW when that fed went down, and people loved to say that was my fault, too. I was just too dominant. I didn't let a single other person hold that championship. I was threatening to take over the Duos Titles as well with Mark Flynn. So it's no wonder that the wrestlers rioted and tore that federation down. They just couldn't handle it.

I wrestled in PWV and quickly became their World Champion. But things fell apart after that, as the forces that be worked against me. They didn't want me as the champ, believing in all the rumors of other feds. So be it. They didn't last that much longer with their revolving line of 'top' champs, did they? I'm sure there are a few people that put that debt on me as well, although they'd have to bend over backwards to blame me there.

When I came to the XWF, I brought together the Exiles, and we ultimately wiped out one of the most popular stables of all time: the Apex. Most of those bastards aren't even around anymore, we so completely destroyed them. A lot of people also said that I destroyed the Universal Title's honor, even though I won that belt fair and square, crushing Jim Caedus. But they still believed that I ruined it.

And now, I hear the same thing from you, Buster. How I'm scum, the filth that ruined your career. You know, at some point, you can only blame so many other people before you face facts and realized that you've done it all to yourself.

But if you want to blame me for every bad thing that's happened in your life, Bust, I'll allow it. I'll even accept it. Blame me all you want, if it lets you sleep at night. When you're sitting at home after Bad Medicine, contemplating yet another loss, maybe throwing it all on me will help you survive.

I don't think Finn will lose a minute of sleep, really. He's too egotistical, he'll probably write it all off as a bad dream and believe that he actually won the 'moral' victory or something. He'll twist it so far around that he'll be looking down at his ass when he walks, which would be pretty funny to see.

All-in-all, boyos, you can blame me for whatever you want. I'm used to hearing the disrespect. I've heard it all before. The hatred. The denial. The disdain.

Censure me.

Condemn me.

But I guarantee that you'll never forget me.

Prepare to take the plunge.


~The picture comes up on a Starbucks. They're not a sponsor... I don't think. The camera zooms in on the window, showing Bernardo sitting there, enjoying an expresso. We find ourselves inside the store, enabling us to hear him as he licks his lips.~

Bernardo: It doesn't matter the universe, these always seem to hit the spot!

~Okay, maybe they are sponsors. Who knows? Bernardo finishes his drink, then looks at his wrist for a second, noticing the power level.~

Bernardo: Okay, about time for us to get home. What a wild ride. At least there's one good payoff in the end.

~Bernardo slips out of the store, giving the friendly Starbucks baristas a nod. He walks out, taking a deep breath of the nice, clean air, another benefit of this dimension's earth. He heads around to the alley, making sure he's out of view of most people walking by. He then begins fiddling with his device, pressing a few buttons to enter in the correct coordinates. He triggers the portal, watching it slowly open wide.~

Bernardo: Home sweet home...

~Bernardo takes a step forward... then freezes up, his eyes wide. He trembles, holding still, as we can see a shadow moving behind him. The voice is soft, yet it's clear who's talking.~

Peter Vaughn: I was recently reminded of the story of the Scorpion and the Frog. Have you heard of it? You see, this scorpion wanted a ride across a river. The frog was worried he'd get stung, but the scorpion told him, hey, I wouldn't do that. We'd both drown. So the frog agrees to take him across. Well, halfway there, the scorpion stings him. As the frog dies, he asks the scorpion why kill them both, and the scorpion just says, it's in my nature.

~Bernardo doesn't say anything. He's just shaking, unable to speak.~

Peter Vaughn: The problem for you, Bernardo... is that we both happen to be Scorpions, don't we?

~Slowly, Bernardo slumps downwards to his knees, as Peter Vaughn stands over him. We can see Vaughn's shirt. It's got some blood splattered across his shirt. The camera angle changes... letting us see the knife blade sticking out of Bernardo's upper back. It's angled to the side, probably avoiding most of the internal organs, but some serious damage has definitely been done. Vaughn slowly reaches around him, plucking the device from his wrist, as he looks towards the portal.~

Peter Vaughn: I figured you knew the actual coordinates. You just brought me here to distract me. You probably thought I'd want a life like this, don't you? My parents alive and together? My brother a full blood relative? Well, you're wrong, Bernardo. This world isn't built for someone like me. I have my world, and I will never give it up.

~Vaughn starts around Bernardo, heading for the portal. Bernardo suddenly reaches up, catching him by the arm, causing Vaughn to look back at him.~

Bernardo: Don't... don't do it. Take me... with you... there's no... Bernardo here... no Mafia...

Peter Vaughn: Huh. That's interesting. No Mechanic = no Mafia? A strange coincidence. It sounds like this world deserves you, Bernardo. Good luck... and goodbye.

~Vaughn pulls away, moving towards the portal. Bernardo, having no other option, pulls out his other hand from his pocket... revealing a pistol.~

Bernardo: Damn you... Vaughn...

~Bernardo begins firing, as Vaughn immediately accelerates, leaping towards the portal. We can see one of the bullets graze across him, doing minimal damage, while the others seem to be altered by the portal, hitting the walls around the alley. Vaughn disappears into the portal, as it immediately shrinks. Bernardo tries to crawl towards it, with no success, as it vanishes completely. Bernardo gasps, hitting the concrete.~

Bernardo: Vaughn.... VAUGHN!!!!

~We leave Bernardo bleeding in the alley, laying there, as the camera zooms upwards, leaving the alley. We slowly fade out.~

]]>


The Road So Far:

Reflections & Resurrections, P1

Reflections & Resurrections, P2

Reflections & Resurrections, P3


[Image: executive-summary.jpg]

It hasn't been a fun ride lately for Peter Vaughn.

He lost his Supercontinental Title due to shenanigans with Charlie Nickles. He had Buster Gloves turn on him, refusing to believe that Finn Kuhn could rig a video for his own advantages. He now faces a basic Handicap match against both men at Bad Medicine.

Oh, and he's been lost throughout the incalculable dimensions of the multiverse.

That one's probably a bigger issue, all told.

Vaughn, the Head Custodian of the Custodial Coalition, previously had been tricked into being pulled into a mirror dimension by his nemesis, Bernardo, the leader of the Maintenance Mafia. This world was nearly the end for both of them, as their counterparts proved to be devious and power-hungry, just like them. Both men were forced to ally together to escape, with Bernardo having to rush into a portal jump. Instead of returning them back to their dimension, the two men ended up in a pre-historic universe. The creatures living there proved to not be very fond of human beings.

Now Vaughn and Bernardo seem to be aligned once again in their efforts to escape, each knowing that the other will betray them as soon as they find an opening. But how will it all end? I suppose we'll be finding out... shortly...


~We begin inside the former headquarters of the Maintenance Mafia. The Coalition has taken complete control of this installation, pushing the Mafia closer than ever to being obliterated. But it's come at an intense cost, with the loss of Peter Vaughn. All efforts have been made to figure out the technology that was used. All efforts have been futile. We find ourselves back in the Hall of Mirrors, the control area for the portal jumps. The hallway was once full of technicians, but now, the only person left is Bill Sykes. He is sitting there with a depressed look on his face, as he studies the mirrors once more.~

Bill Sykes: I don't know what to do, Peter. I really don't.

~Bill rubs the top of his forehead, obviously dealing with the remains of a nasty migraine.~

Bill Sykes: We tried powering this one with the Optigon. We tried crossing it with the power grid; the mayor loved that. We brought in every Mafia member who was willing to give information in exchange for leniency. None of them were on the team that worked on this. Luke even tried hacking the system for 32-hours. He's currently on enforced bed rest. Honestly, Peter, we tried everything to get you back... and we've failed you.

~A single tear runs down the side of Bill's face. He wipes it away, looking annoyed at the escaping emotion. He pushes himself to his feet, clearing his throat.~

Bill Sykes: All you need to know, Peter, is that I'll make sure the Coalition goes on... until maybe, someday, you find your way... back...

~Bill's voice fades away as there's suddenly a circle of electricity growing in the middle of the mirror at the end of the hallway. It grows larger, taking up most of the mirror, causing Bill to step back and prepare to run in case in began to act like a black hole or something. But that doesn't happen. Instead, a single individual comes toppling through the portal, falling to the ground in front of Bill.~

Bill Sykes: Oh my God! PETER!!!

~Bill runs to Vaughn's side, helping the man up, as the portal begins to close behind him. As it disappear, Vaughn glances back at it, as if waiting for something else to happen. It doesn't, so Vaughn slumps partially onto Bill. He's covered in blood across the front of his outfit. It's unclear how much belonged to him. Bill takes Vaughn over to the chair, sitting him down. Vaughn winces, with Bill taking in the wound across his side.~

Bill Sykes: You're hurt!

~Bill pulls out his communicator, quickly dialing for the right number.~

Bill Sykes: This is Sykes in the Mirror Room! Vaughn is back, repeat, Vaughn is back!! I need medical here immediately!

~We hear the startled response, but Bill doesn't bother listening to it. He leans over Vaughn, checking on him.~

Peter Vaughn: It's... good to see you, too, Bill. Don't worry... I think it's just... a flesh wound... or two...

Bill Sykes: What the hell happened, P... Mr. Vaughn? Where have you been?

Peter Vaughn: That's... a long story, Bill. And it's one that... doesn't really need to be heard. I just... want a shower... a beer... and a long rest...

Bill Sykes: We'll do what we can, sir.

~A medical crew comes hurrying in with a stretcher and supplies. Bill helps Vaughn over to the stretcher, getting him situated. All throughout, Vaughn keeps looking back at the mirror, staring at his own reflection, while also reliving what he just experienced... ~


[Image: DbA7AhUW4AId0-B.jpg]

~We find ourselves in a large jungle area, overgrown for the most part. There are the sounds of exotic birds and other animals, some of which don't sound at all familiar. The camera pans down on a section of bushes, which are moving slightly. Slowly, Peter Vaughn's head appears, looking over the top in both directions. He nods, then lowers back down. Our perspective changes, showing Vaughn kneeling in the bushes beside Bernardo, who appears to be frantically working on his technology.~

Peter Vaughn: How's it coming?

Bernardo: Don't rush me, stupido! It's getting there!

Peter Vaughn: I'm sorry if you feel rushed, asshole, but those Bigfoot bastards are probably tracking us down again right now...

Bernardo: Then keep your annoying voice down and let me work!

~Bernardo seems to be trying a method to speed up the recharge of the device, as we can see a green line slowly going upwards. It's not moving fast enough for either man.~

Peter Vaughn: Man, I should have left you behind...

Bernardo: Without this? Even you're not hard-headed enough to believe you could build something like this yourself.

Peter Vaughn: I could have gotten it back from your corpse...

~Bernardo scoffs, as he continues his work. Both men know that they're stuck with each other, at least for now, as Bernardo's sore ankle will keep him from being able to defend himself. There's a sudden, strange howl in the air, which brings Vaughn back to his feet. He peers around, seeing nothing, but his instincts are telling him he's being watched. He reaches into his pocket, fiddling with something, before turning back to Bernardo and pulling him up.~

Peter Vaughn: They're coming again. We need to get moving.

Bernardo: Don't they have anything better to do??

Peter Vaughn: I don't think any other entertainment has been created in this reality. Let's get going. How much longer?

Bernardo: Five minutes. Maybe less.

Peter Vaughn: Sure you don't want me to carry it?

Bernardo: Don't make me laugh.

~The two men start moving through the jungle, trying to be as quiet as possible, although it's not easy on a bad ankle for Bernardo. They move further towards what looks to be a river of some kind. Crossing it is out of the question, it's way too strong a flow. They start moving alongside it... just as a large, wooden spear lands near them.~

Peter Vaughn: Ah, shit...

Bernardo: RUN!!!

Peter Vaughn: No, really? I was going to negotiate!

~They run on, while we can see several creatures popping out of the jungle behind them. They're hard to describe, as they're completely different from anything that's ever been seen on our Earth. Really, "Bigfoot" is probably the best description. Maybe this is the universe they come from. Either way, they're intent on killing their prey, loping after Bernardo and Vaughn. One of them steps out in front of the fleeing duo, howling. Vaughn scoops up a rock on the fly and lets loose, cracking it across the creature's head. It falls, with Vaughn & Bernardo hurrying past. There's a beeping coming from Bernardo's wrist.~

Peter Vaughn: Fuck, they're gaining... can't you move faster??

Bernardo: You want to be the one with a sprain, pendajo?? It doesn't matter anyway, I think we're out of here!

~Bernardo triggers the dimensional device, shooting a beam in front of him. A portal opens, spinning around wildly. All of the creatures suddenly stop in their tracks, apparently scared by the strange sight.~

Peter Vaughn: You a little more sure about your coordinates this time?

Bernardo: Trust me, there's no interference on this trip. We're going exactly where I want us to go.

~Bernardo hides a dark smile, as he begins to move forward towards the portal. One more spear comes flying in, but thankfully, it goes right between the two men, shooting through the portal. It disappears from sight. Vaughn, having no other option, jumps with Bernardo through, and both men vanish... ~

~Only to appear out the other side, shooting out of the portal in front of what appears to be an apartment building. Both men turn and look behind him, to see if any of the creatures are brave enough to try leaping through. None appear. The portal closes, sealing them off from that strange world. Vaughn nods, then looks to his side, noticing the wooden spear sticking out of the side of the building.~

Peter Vaughn: Huh. Guess that spear gained some momentum on the way through. So is this right, Bernardo? Are we... home... wait a second...

~Vaughn suddenly looks around, realizing that street that they're on. He steps forward, checking out the building in front of him.~

Peter Vaughn: This... this is my... my old apartment building. What are we doing here, Bernardo? Bernardo?

~Vaughn glances around behind him. While he was distracted, Bernardo appears to have taken off. Vaughn shrugs, checking something in his pocket, before stepping up to the building.~

Peter Vaughn: What a crazy coincidence. I even recognize some of these names... Zydalgo... Benson... V... Vaughn??

~Confused, Vaughn looks closer at the names of the tenants, as the camera zooms in... clearly showing us the name "Vaughn" on one of the buttons. Vaughn stands there, stunned, as the video cuts away.~


You never know where you're going to find your name, do you?

For instance, I didn't expect to hear my name mentioned by Finn Kuhn as his excuse out of trouble. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the word was broken that Finn was the man who rigged the I Quit match against Buster Gloves, I was the one who happened to be there to save Buster from a vicious beating from the man. I knew Finn wanted revenge after that. I just figured he'd be man enough to come right at me on his own.

Instead, he dials up a completely obviously rigged video, claiming that I was actually the one who arranged for Buster to say "I Quit". I mean, obvious to anyone besides someone of Buster's apparent intelligence, because he bought it, hook, line, & stinker. He wasn't alone, as I know most of the XWF audience also believes that I must have been the one to set up that loss. Of course, they're all idiots, so it's not that big of a shock.

But I just want to know, why does everyone out there see Finn as some sort of good guy savant? Why do you put him on so high a pedestal, that he 'obviously' wouldn't do something like this? Why don't they see the obvious?

Here's the thing: if Finn was such a great guy, why didn't he protest the ending to that I Quit match at Relentless? Did you hear him saying "That didn't happen, I want this match restarted"? No. Did you hear him screaming at the ref that the win was tainted and it should be taken from him? No. What you saw was Finn acting like he was confused, while gladly taking the victory that he badly needed at an XWF Pay-Per-View.

How about after that? Once Buster & Finn began talking about how everything was rigged, did Finn tell Buster that he'd give him half his PPV winnings from the match? I sure as hell didn't hear about it. Finn kept every cent that he got from that 'rigged' ending, working perfectly to his own satisfaction. Has he gone to the XWF leadership and said to strike that win from his record, since it shouldn't count? Hell no. He's PROUD of winning at Relentless!

So again, what makes people see Finn as the good guy here? He's taken advantage of everything that he's gotten, whether you believe he arranged it or not. And now, he's again rigged things to his advantage. He's arranged with his little video to make it a Handicap match, myself against Finn & Buster. And how long does Buster think that's going to last? Because as soon as Buster turns his back, I'm certain that Finn will try to end Buster's career with another pin, crushing his hopes and dreams here in the XWF.

And Finn's going to trumpet that from the heavens, how he ended Buster's career and got one over on the Mechanic.

But I'm not going to let that happen.

You're not going to succeed, you despicable piece of turd trash. I'm not going to let it go down. If it means I have to break both of you, ending BOTH of your careers, that's what I'm going to do.

Then we'll see if everyone still wants to think of Finn as some kind of glorious god, or if they'll finally see him for the fallen angel he really is.


~After a few moments of rare indecision, Vaughn reaches a finger out towards the Vaughn button. He stops, though, thinking it over.~

Peter Vaughn: These have to be old, right? They just... they haven't gotten around to replacing them yet. It's the only thing that makes sense...

~Vaughn thinks about it a little longer, then reaches out, pressing the button for Zydalgo instead.~

Voice: Yes?

Peter Vaughn: Hi, umm, you probably don't remember me, but...

Voice: Oh, is that you, Peter?

~Startled, Vaughn looks at the speaker for a second, then shakes it off.~

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, yeah, it's me. I'm surprised you recognized my voice...

Voice: It hasn't been THAT long, Peter. So you forgot your keys again?

Peter Vaughn: I... er...

Voice: *sigh* Just remember me next time we need some work done on our sinks, okay?

~The door buzzes open, with Vaughn instinctively reaching forward to open it while it's still triggered. The speaker cuts off, even as Vaughn turns back to it.~

Peter Vaughn: Ummm.... thanks?

~Predictably, there's no response.~

Peter Vaughn: Gotta be an Alzheimer's situation...

~Vaughn slips inside, checking out the lobby.~

Peter Vaughn: Hmmm. Looks about how I remember it, if much worse off. I'm surprised this place is still standing, though, so I guess it's doing better than I expected. Wonder who's in the old apartment?

~Vaughn heads to the elevator, pressing the button. Nothing happens. Vaughn scoffs at it.~

Peter Vaughn: Figures. The slumlords wouldn't keep these maintained, would they? Looks like it's the stairs. Good, I could use some exercise, since I have a match to prepare for.

~Vaughn turns and jogs to the stairway, heading up two flights as quickly as possible. He stops on the third flight, considering the steps there.~

Peter Vaughn: Right there. That's the step I sat on when my father told me Mom had left us. She didn't even have the courage to tell me face-to-face. Yeah, lot of memories here....

~Vaughn can almost see the crying kid sitting there, being comforted by his father. He puts it aside, though, and heads up to the final floor, making his way down to his old apartment. He stands in front of it, focusing on the numbers on the door.~

Peter Vaughn: They never did tell me who had moved in once Dad was put into hospice care and passed away. Odds are it was someone desperate. Who else would want to live here? I wonder...

~Vaughn's hand hovers forward, as if to knock on the door, but he doesn't seem to want to take that final step. He shakes his head.~

Peter Vaughn: Nah. They don't need some former resident stalking them. The past deserves to stay in the past, anyway.

~Vaughn turns to leave, ready to go check on how things are going with the Coalition. That's when the door opens, and a voice shocks him to his core.~

Voice: Peter! You made it!!

~A man steps into the hall, giving Peter a big hug, with Peter too stunned to return it. His eyes have gone wide, enough to see the whites more than the iris.~

Peter Vaughn: D... Dad??

~Vaughn's father comes out of the hug, smiling widely.~

Mr. Vaughn: Wow, have you been working out? I'm impressed son. I was never one to be in tremendous shape, myself.

~Peter has no response, as Mr. Vaughn pats his son on the shoulder.~

Mr. Vaughn: Come on in! You're welcome, as always!

~Peter, completely shellshocked at this point, lets himself be led inside, as the door shuts behind them.~


Sometimes no matter how hard you prepare yourself, you can be taken by surprise.

That's how I felt the day that Buster Gloves turned on me.

You know the worst part, Buster? I've always been in your corner, whether you knew it or not. For some reason, you seem to blame me for you not getting into CCPE, but you're completely wrong on that aspect. I talked you up to Chris Page. I wanted you in with us, as part of the greatest wrestlers in the world today.

But Chris has a different view than I do. He's been in the business a lot longer, and he said that you weren't ready. No matter how much I disagreed with him, there was nothing I could do. He was the boss.

He was also right. You weren't ready, Buster. I'm ashamed of myself for not seeing it beforehand, really. You proved that by taking losses in Level Up, and then coming into the XWF the way you did. You lacked the fire that you used to have. I don't really know what happened there, Bust, but you lived up to your name for a while there.

But I was still pulling for you. I was rooting for you in the back when you went at it with that bloodthirsty Finn. I thought you were going to take him down for sure. But no, you let yourself get put in a position where you could lose, and you lost. I mean, I don't think you were getting out of that submission hold anyway, the way Finn leveraged it. But even with the controversial ending, you put yourself there. You allowed Finn to beat you the way he did, and I tell you, Finn is still bragging about it to this day.

That's when everything went down, didn't it? You found out about the secret video showing Finn betraying you. You lost your cool and allowed Finn to KO you. Then I stepped in. But even with my backing you 100 percent, wanting you to find that fire again, you quickly turned on me as soon as you thought you had a smidgen of reason to. You immediately believed the media and the fans that I'm some evil snake in the grass.

Well, that's a damn sight better than being a little lamb with no way to protect himself.

I will say this, Bust, you seem to have gotten some of that fire back, and I'm glad. I'm sorry it took such an unlikely turn of events for it to happen, but maybe you can still save your XWF career. Maybe you can pull your ass out of the fire before it's cooked entirely. But it's going to take you opening your eyes and seeing the truth.

I've always just wanted the best for you, Bust. Sometimes that might mean I'll have to dish out tough love. But I haven't given up on your damn ass yet.

So if you end up taking the Plunge, remember: it's for your own good, you son of a bitch.


~We're inside the Vaughn apartment now, as Peter is still staggered by the sight of everything around him. All the furniture he remembers, with a few new additions here and there. He looks in every direction, taking it all in, as his father walks in behind him.~

Mr. Vaughn: I'm happy you were able to get away from that custodial conference you told us about. It really wasn't Thanksgiving here without you. Hey, Ma, guess who showed up??

~Peter looks forward, stunned again as a woman comes walking out of the kitchen area, holding a pumpkin pie fresh from the oven. She smiles brightly at Peter, hurrying to put down the pie so she can give her son a hug.~

Peter Vaughn: Mom??

Mrs. Vaughn: Peter! It's wonderful to have you here!!

Peter Vaughn: I... I don't understand...

Mrs. Vaughn: Thomas! Come on out and see your brother!

Peter Vaughn: Thomas? He's here too??

~Vaughn turns as the bedroom door opens and Thomas walks out. But this isn't the Thomas Hill we've seen on television many times, the half-brother of Peter Vaughn. This Thomas has different features, and even appears to be a little taller. If anything, you can see the resemblance of Vaughn's father shining through. The man walks forward, extending a hand.~

Thomas Vaughn: Glad you got your foot out of your ass and came here, Pete.

Mrs. Vaughn: Now don't be like that, Thomas! You know your brother has a lot of responsibilities!

Thomas Vaughn: Sure, sure. Lots of plumbing projects to run.

Mr. Vaughn: Now, son, I've told you before, if you enjoy the work, it's as important as you want it to be. Now, c'mon, Peter, we were just getting ourselves ready for the meal.

~Peter's mom grabs his arm as he is almost dragged into the kitchen/dining area. It's a small set-up, but it's still big enough for four people. Peter takes a seat, as his mom goes to get another place setting. Thomas sits to his right, looking a little arrogant the way he leans back in his chair. Mr. Vaughn steps to the other side, where the turkey is currently waiting being carved.~

Mr. Vaughn: With this miracle in hand, let's get to eating!

Mrs. Vaughn: Hold your horses, Papa, let me get the plate down at least!

~Mrs. Vaughn gets Peter set up, then sits down across from him. They all bow for a quick prayer, with Peter being the only one not to close his eyes. Then the feast begins.~

Mr. Vaughn: You'll want one of the turkey legs, right, Peter?

Peter Vaughn: I... don't you want it... Dad?

Mr. Vaughn: With my cholesterol? Trust me, your mother wouldn't let it happen. I have to eat as lightly as possible.

Mrs. Vaughn: Oh, yeah, blame me for keeping you alive, hon.

~The two laugh, as Peter shakes his head in bewilderment. He looks over at his mom, thinking things through.~

Peter Vaughn: So... you two seem to be doing pretty well. You, uh... you haven't had any problems over the years?

Mrs. Vaughn: What, you mean... as a married couple?

Mr. Vaughn: Strange question for the dinner table, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, I know. I just... you know, there are a lot of couples that haven't lasted as long as you have...

Mrs. Vaughn: Oh, well, like any marriage, we've had our... difficulties. You know it almost reached... well, thankfully, it never did. We worked through it, and now we're happier than ever.

Peter Vaughn: And still living here...

Thomas Vaughn: Hey, I've offered to move them to a better house, since, y'know, I'm the one you can afford it. They just won't move.

Mrs. Vaughn: Why would we? This is our home. It's where we raised our children. It's where so much of our life has come together. No, we're not going anywhere.

~Vaughn sits quietly for a few seconds, ignoring the passing around of dishes around him. He's working things out in his head.~

Peter Vaughn: So... that pretty much decides it. I'm in an alternate dimension still.

Mr. Vaughn: Excuse me, son?

Peter Vaughn: But the only difference... the moment that changed anything... is that you never left, Mom...

Mrs. Vaughn: I... I don't understand...

Peter Vaughn: It was you... you did this...

~Peter's tone is darker now, surprising everyone in the room. They look at him with concern and some worry as he stands up, glaring at each one of them, before focusing on his mother.

Peter Vaughn: It's all your fault...

~Peter looks furious, as his 'mother' can only sputter in confusion as we cut away.~


It's all your fault.

It's your fault that I'm going to be crashing your little Handicap party by taking the fight to both of you.

It's your fault that I'll be bringing my best game once again, ready to annihilate anyone standing in my way.

It's your fault that I'm going to have to break both of you, instead of just one.

It could have been so different. If you were smarter, Bust, we could have become a hell of a team in the XWF. I would have pulled you along to so many titles. The tag division is disintegrated right now. We would have ruled over it. But you couldn't look past your rage and see the glory that could have been.

If you were less arrogant, Finnigan, you would have let it happen. You would have given Bust his chance to actually be a success here. But you couldn't do it. You couldn't fight him fairly, and you had to rig the game in your favor. You had to be a degenerate dickhead who shows one face to the crowd while laughing at them in the back.

If either of you was worth more, you'd be able to stand up against me one on one, and try to prove yourselves that way. But you want to both fight me and make your path easier. It saddens me that the XWF is becoming this way. Unbalanced. Undisciplined. Unintelligent.

Let me ask you this, Bust: has Finn implied at any time that he'd be willing for you to take the pin on me? No, I'm sure he hasn't, because Finn has no intention of losing this match. He wants to win it, and he'll gladly backstab you the second you guys think you have me down. I wouldn't be surprised if his master plan is to pin you, since he knows how difficult it is to keep my shoulders on the mat.

If you actually could pull a few brain cells into a group and make them work, Bust, you'd realize that your best chance is to backstab him first. Trick Finn into thinking you guys are working together, then break his heart with one punch. You could probably even make him tap out to that, and honestly, I'd have to really debate whether or not I'd break that up.

I want to win, but more than that, I want to see Finney Kumby suffer.

So by all means, Bust, feel free to bloody Finn up some. I won't stand against it. I'll even help out. But I don't see you accepting that, since you're so damn stubborn and unable to see the truth no matter how obvious it is. You're just too distrusting, too disturbed by your rage.

So, yep. It's all your fault. Accept the blame, because the punishment is coming.


~The family is shocked into silence as Peter Vaughn is on his feet, having shoved his chair against the wall. He starts pacing back and forth, ignoring them, as he fumes.~

Mr. Vaughn: Peter... Peter, please, talk to us. What's going on?

Peter Vaughn: It's her fault. It's all her fault...

Mr. Vaughn: What, son? What did your mother do?

~Mr. Vaughn looks over at his wife, who is starting to cry, having no idea what's going on. Thomas is up as well now, looking pissed at his brother's actions.~

Peter Vaughn: If it wasn't for her... you'd be dead, Dad.

~Mr. Vaughn gasps, taking this almost as a threat as he steps backwards.~

Peter Vaughn: If it wasn't for her... you wouldn't be the same, 'Tom'...

~Peter says that very derogatory, causing Thomas to flare up in anger. He starts to step forward... and Peter steps into a superkick, knocking Thomas out with one shot!!! Thomas goes down hard, as both parents yell out in shock and dismay.~

Peter Vaughn: If it wasn't for her... I wouldn't be what I am today...

~That seems to slow Peter down slightly, as he stops at a nearby counter. He picks up a picture, which shows a happy Peter Vaughn, smiling, alongside his family. It looks like they found a way to get to Six Flags and take a picture there. It was probably the best theme park they could afford, but they appear to have had a great time. Peter glares at the photo, then throws it to the side, shattering it.~

Mrs. Vaughn: Oh my god!! Peter, please, STOP!!

Peter Vaughn: I'm not your Peter... I'm not that wuss who decided to stay a janitor, a pussy who couldn't even fight back against his own shadow. I'm Peter Vaughn, Four-Time World Champion! And here... I'll never be that... never...

~Mr. Vaughn steps forward, reaching out for his son.~

Mr. Vaughn: You're having a breakdown, Peter. Please, let us help you!

~Peter responds with an uppercut, sending his father stumbling back into the cabinet on the wall. A few plates fall and crash to the ground, as Mr. Vaughn drops to the ground, holding his chest. His wife runs to him, kneeling next to him.~

Mrs. Vaughn: His heart!

~As Mrs. Vaughn comforts her husband, Peter reaches onto the table... picking up a large carving knife. He considers it, before turning towards his 'mom'.~

Peter Vaughn: You take all the blame for this... mother. Damn you. Damn you to hell.

Mrs. Vaughn: Please... please... please...

~Peter watches her cradle Mr. Vaughn, trying to protect him. He looks over to the downed Thomas, who still hasn't moved. Peter then shakes his head, then checks something in his pocket.~

Peter Vaughn: You're all lucky I have someplace to be.

~Peter turns, walking away without another word. He leaves behind destruction in his path, as the Vaughn household here will never be the same.~


It's been said that I can bring devastation wherever I go.

I still get some blame for what happened in OCW, unfair though that might be. But then, when you're the World Champion when the whole place turns upside-down, they can't help but accuse the guy at the top, even if he didn't stick around for the chaos afterwards.

I was the International Champion in TPW when that fed went down, and people loved to say that was my fault, too. I was just too dominant. I didn't let a single other person hold that championship. I was threatening to take over the Duos Titles as well with Mark Flynn. So it's no wonder that the wrestlers rioted and tore that federation down. They just couldn't handle it.

I wrestled in PWV and quickly became their World Champion. But things fell apart after that, as the forces that be worked against me. They didn't want me as the champ, believing in all the rumors of other feds. So be it. They didn't last that much longer with their revolving line of 'top' champs, did they? I'm sure there are a few people that put that debt on me as well, although they'd have to bend over backwards to blame me there.

When I came to the XWF, I brought together the Exiles, and we ultimately wiped out one of the most popular stables of all time: the Apex. Most of those bastards aren't even around anymore, we so completely destroyed them. A lot of people also said that I destroyed the Universal Title's honor, even though I won that belt fair and square, crushing Jim Caedus. But they still believed that I ruined it.

And now, I hear the same thing from you, Buster. How I'm scum, the filth that ruined your career. You know, at some point, you can only blame so many other people before you face facts and realized that you've done it all to yourself.

But if you want to blame me for every bad thing that's happened in your life, Bust, I'll allow it. I'll even accept it. Blame me all you want, if it lets you sleep at night. When you're sitting at home after Bad Medicine, contemplating yet another loss, maybe throwing it all on me will help you survive.

I don't think Finn will lose a minute of sleep, really. He's too egotistical, he'll probably write it all off as a bad dream and believe that he actually won the 'moral' victory or something. He'll twist it so far around that he'll be looking down at his ass when he walks, which would be pretty funny to see.

All-in-all, boyos, you can blame me for whatever you want. I'm used to hearing the disrespect. I've heard it all before. The hatred. The denial. The disdain.

Censure me.

Condemn me.

But I guarantee that you'll never forget me.

Prepare to take the plunge.


~The picture comes up on a Starbucks. They're not a sponsor... I don't think. The camera zooms in on the window, showing Bernardo sitting there, enjoying an expresso. We find ourselves inside the store, enabling us to hear him as he licks his lips.~

Bernardo: It doesn't matter the universe, these always seem to hit the spot!

~Okay, maybe they are sponsors. Who knows? Bernardo finishes his drink, then looks at his wrist for a second, noticing the power level.~

Bernardo: Okay, about time for us to get home. What a wild ride. At least there's one good payoff in the end.

~Bernardo slips out of the store, giving the friendly Starbucks baristas a nod. He walks out, taking a deep breath of the nice, clean air, another benefit of this dimension's earth. He heads around to the alley, making sure he's out of view of most people walking by. He then begins fiddling with his device, pressing a few buttons to enter in the correct coordinates. He triggers the portal, watching it slowly open wide.~

Bernardo: Home sweet home...

~Bernardo takes a step forward... then freezes up, his eyes wide. He trembles, holding still, as we can see a shadow moving behind him. The voice is soft, yet it's clear who's talking.~

Peter Vaughn: I was recently reminded of the story of the Scorpion and the Frog. Have you heard of it? You see, this scorpion wanted a ride across a river. The frog was worried he'd get stung, but the scorpion told him, hey, I wouldn't do that. We'd both drown. So the frog agrees to take him across. Well, halfway there, the scorpion stings him. As the frog dies, he asks the scorpion why kill them both, and the scorpion just says, it's in my nature.

~Bernardo doesn't say anything. He's just shaking, unable to speak.~

Peter Vaughn: The problem for you, Bernardo... is that we both happen to be Scorpions, don't we?

~Slowly, Bernardo slumps downwards to his knees, as Peter Vaughn stands over him. We can see Vaughn's shirt. It's got some blood splattered across his shirt. The camera angle changes... letting us see the knife blade sticking out of Bernardo's upper back. It's angled to the side, probably avoiding most of the internal organs, but some serious damage has definitely been done. Vaughn slowly reaches around him, plucking the device from his wrist, as he looks towards the portal.~

Peter Vaughn: I figured you knew the actual coordinates. You just brought me here to distract me. You probably thought I'd want a life like this, don't you? My parents alive and together? My brother a full blood relative? Well, you're wrong, Bernardo. This world isn't built for someone like me. I have my world, and I will never give it up.

~Vaughn starts around Bernardo, heading for the portal. Bernardo suddenly reaches up, catching him by the arm, causing Vaughn to look back at him.~

Bernardo: Don't... don't do it. Take me... with you... there's no... Bernardo here... no Mafia...

Peter Vaughn: Huh. That's interesting. No Mechanic = no Mafia? A strange coincidence. It sounds like this world deserves you, Bernardo. Good luck... and goodbye.

~Vaughn pulls away, moving towards the portal. Bernardo, having no other option, pulls out his other hand from his pocket... revealing a pistol.~

Bernardo: Damn you... Vaughn...

~Bernardo begins firing, as Vaughn immediately accelerates, leaping towards the portal. We can see one of the bullets graze across him, doing minimal damage, while the others seem to be altered by the portal, hitting the walls around the alley. Vaughn disappears into the portal, as it immediately shrinks. Bernardo tries to crawl towards it, with no success, as it vanishes completely. Bernardo gasps, hitting the concrete.~

Bernardo: Vaughn.... VAUGHN!!!!

~We leave Bernardo bleeding in the alley, laying there, as the camera zooms upwards, leaving the alley. We slowly fade out.~

]]> <![CDATA[REDLINE]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45152 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 21:27:22 -0800 Chris Chaos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45152 Swope Park, a staple in the Kansas City community. Designed to be a gift to the people of Kansas City from a prominent figure in society, it has been involved smack in the middle of some of the most evil and controversial situations in American history.

Chris walked through the park on this brisk night with his RAION KIDO tee shirt on and a nice pair of jeans. He was in awe of the beautiful architecture and design. It was dark but he could see the immaculately taken care of fields of grass. Flower beds and fountains, a public dining area overlooking the duck pond. An absolute picturesque display of human ingenuity, grace, charity and......segregation?

Kansas City was haunted by redlining-- a federal decision that effectively blocked investment and loan giving to black neighborhoods. This forced them into smaller and smaller areas, essentially limiting any chance to them having the same benefits of normal life that a white person would.

The one who "donated" this park to the city, Mr. Swope, the "Colonel", was one of the main redliners in the city.

Raion would do his promo here. He would do a promo in a place without knowing its history, thinking he is doing good when really he is smacking a large amount of people right in the face.

Chris walked down by the pond and sat on a bench facing the water.

He could see the city lights in the distance. How could a place so beautiful be named after a man with so much hate?

"Hey hot stuff. You looking for a good time?"

He turned his head to see a prostitute had sat down next to him. What in the hell?

"I seen him first!"

What appeared to be a homeless man damn near hip checked her off the bench. A gay prostitute?

"You got some change you could spare my man?"

Oh, phew.

Looking to the other side of the pond, he noticed in the darkness that several of these "unsavories" were wondering around. Where were they in the Raion promo? Why didn't he highlight them? Why wasn't he trying to help them?

Because Raion only cares about himself.

A grin came over Chris's face. This is exactly what he was talking about with Raion. A selfish, self-absorbed, elitist who can't be bothered by the problems of others.

"You each wanna make some money?"

Their ears perked up like a dog hearing the W word.

"Follow me, bring your friends."

Chris walked through the park, the two cast offs following close behind.

He gets to the spot where Raion began his promo. A spot where he praised pointed out the grave of the man who founded the park. The part where his entire persona was exposed. A place where he buried himself, symbolically, and didn't even know it. A place where pain and heartache was turned golden and made into a weapon by him---weapons like the ones used on the people of this city a century ago.

More on that later.

"You are so desperate to keep the wool over our eyes, so desperate to turn the attention away to how much of a phony you are, that you aren't even watching my promos. Not absorbing and soaking them in. Skimming through for credit, but coming away dumber than when you went turned it on."

Chaos walks by The Museum at 18th & Vine. He smiles with a thumbs up.

Isn't it great when it works out that way?

"What you are, underneath it all, is a parasite.”

Chris turns towards the crackheads who have all gathered around. There were some prostitutes in the mix, too, their breath visible in the chilly Kansas City air. "Can we clap it up for captain obvious? Come on, clap it up!"

He starts to clap, and the whores and rock addicts begin to clap as well, some salivating at the mouth for that promise of 5 whole dollars.

"I was calling myself a parasite you middling half-wit. You didn't come up with something new, didn't try to spin my comparison of you back onto me, didn't try to pick something obscure out of my last promo and use it against me. You simply called me what I already called myself. A parasite. Your parasite."

Parasite!


Yeah! He a parasite!

Fuck him up---uhhh---whats his name?

Chaos

YEAH! Fuck him up!

WAIT, WHY HE WEARING A KIDO SHIRT?!

I DONT LIKE KIDO NO MORE

I NEVER DID


I THOUGHT WE WERE GETTING PAID


"Calm down cracky. I'm almost done.

As I was saying. I got into your head, I infested your entire being, and your stuck in the mud because of it. I became your parasite and you hope Bad Medicine can shake me. This parasite is terminal."

YEAH! KILL HIM! HE SUCKS!

"And even the finest weapon is but that in the end - a tool that can very well be destroyed.”

"The only tool being destroyed at Bad Medicine is you, Raion. Your entire delusional reality will be called into question and the fingers will point squarely at your chest. The murmurs among the masses will be that Raion Kido cannot get the job done. Since the moment I got here, I have been public enemy number one, but I embraced the roll. I did it to the fullest. You don't truly believe that you're the savior of this company, you only care about being the savior of yourself. What do I mean? You've been driven out of every company you've been in because you folded like a card table when the heat got just a bit too hot. You let people get to you, break you down, wear you out, and you've been jumping from company to company hoping for that fresh start--hoping to hide the past. You didn't come here with your head held high, you came here with your tail tucked and you wanted everyone to believe that you were the unflappable face of courage and heroism.

You're a liar, Raion. A liar and a coward.

When I went after the integrity of Robert Main and I tried to call his clout to the stand, it was completely different. Robert Main was the be all, end all. He was the choke point. He was the iron gate to the kingdom. He and Apex ran roughshod over everyone, hoarded every belt for lengthy reigns, and had the cushion of management favoritism to fall back on. When I said I was coming to save the XWF from Robert Main, it was like the Allies coming to save Europe from oppression in 1944. When I say I am coming to save them from you---I am saving them from getting their hopes up. Did I succeed in my quest? Not entirely, but I sure put a crack in that armor.

I am going to do more than just crack your armor, Raion. I am going to smash it to pieces."

So tell me, Chaos, what exactly do I have to fear?

Yourself, Raion. Fear yourself. You think I chose you because you're the best? Please. I chose you because you're the easiest to influence, I told you that already. But why not Flynn? If he would have lost that match, it would have been him. Ten years of trying, ten years of not being good enough. I would be telling Mark how much of a useless failure he is right now if he lost but the facts are Raion--he got the job done. He beat you. Let him have his time to shine before I inevitably take it from him, but me choosing you wasn't because you're some supreme being. Me choosing you was because Flynn exposed you and moved on---I'm just finishing the job.

Pat yourself on the back some more while you continue to freefall. Climb the mountain and shout the the heavens because you don't care about those living at the base.

You never did.

You never will."

Chris continues his walk through the park with his band of misfits following him. People who had been written off, discarded, forgotten. People who society snubs their nose at. People who are told on a daily basis that they will never be anything to anyone.

He knows how this feels. Many people in the XWF had written him off, or forgot he existed entirely. Many of the people who were there now--shit they had heard of Chris Chaos but did they know him? Of course not. All they had been told was that he used to be great, glorious, one of if not the best. Now, he's a shell. Washed up and wrinkled. Rusted. A legacy made of brass but polished in shit.

His bosses hate him, but know how much he means to the XWF society. His bosses sit atop their throne with their autocracy and dictate rather than lead. They sit there sand continue to funnel their resources into those they deem worthy, overlooking the backbone of what makes their community possible in the first place.

Them along with the other greedy mossbacks who were evading taxes, fighting progress, and getting rich. Have you seen the XWF twitter lately?

A prostitute in the formation stops to talk to a park patron sitting on a bench. A crack head disappears down a back alley, wandering off to wherever they deemed fit.

This park was supposed to be a symbol of the city, much like XWF was a symbol of the wrestling community. Named after Thomas H. Swope, who at one time would become the largest individual land owner in Kansas City. Chris stops at a sign near the parks entrance.

*At 1,805-acres, Swope Park is the crown jewel of the KC Parks system. As Kansas City’s largest park, and one of the largest municipal parks in the United States, Swope Park is home to many of Kansas City’s finest attractions and annually hosts more than 2 million visitors*

He turned around and looked back at the debauchery behind him. Many of these crack heads and prostitutes were minorities. The cities less fortunate shoved into a space away from the city center, forced to sleep out in the cold among some of the most pristine landscape in the United States.

Something felt ironic about all of this.

"Raion, you throw names out there and you know nothing of these people and what they have done here. Names like The Engineer. Jim Caedus, even Peter Gilmour. Men who shaped the foundation for the ground you walk on. Men who made the XWF the place that it is today, that gave it the reputation it has today. The men who made this a place you sought out when you needed to refresh your floundering career. You came in and won the title, sure, but unlike those men you became complacent. You sat back and allowed things to happen as they did, and then have the nerve to complain about how you are "irked". Doctor D'Ville is rolling in his grave right now!"

HE AIN'T DEAD!

Chaos takes a bill out of his pocket and nods, handing it to the man who was scratching at his neck. He is clearly a bigger fan of the XWF than Raion Kido is.

"I wasn't there when you pinned John Madison or beat Finn Kuhn? First off, did you hear what you said? You've been reduced to fighting Madison and Kuhn when you should be in the Main Event every single show. You should be facing Flynn, Graves, Bourbon--someone who matters here. Instead, you're fighting people who shouldn't be allowed to park your car, then bragging about beating them. Secondly, I didn't need to be there. Too much of something ruins it. I did what I needed to do to get in your head, then sat back and watched you self-destruct on your own. Call it scared all you wish, I call it smart. You said yourself that not being where you think you should be "irks" you, but you brought it on yourself. I demanded title shots and big time matches because I know my worth, you question yours. You are okay with small fry matches because you can pad your stats and then tell us all how good you are. The sad reality is, you don't need to tell us, you need to tell yourself. So keep posturing, keep listing accomplishments, and we'll all keep laughing.

You combed through my history and picked out all the same things everyone else does. You hurled the same tired insults at me that I've heard a hundred times before. The difference is, you don't know my history the way you think you do.

Cater to Theo Pryce? How many times are you going to mention the trilogy? You have the second most powerful man in wrestling in your corner, and you are facing Avo? You're right, you don't cater to Theo Pryce...all you do is let him down.

You pushed the Corporate thing so hard you'd think it was Vinnie's LFL marketing strategy....but what you don't realize was why. What you don't understand is that it was Theo's idea. When he pitched it, I grinned ear to ear. If it was successful, I would have the corporate backing and the push from management to do anything I wanted....if it was a failure, Theo would be on the hook for recommending it to begin with. It was a win-win. I got to troll Theo, and be in the limelight all the while. You call it a stain on my record, I call it a good business decision. You're still talking about it, aren't you?

The difference with you is that I already had years of dominance under my belt. I was an established name here. You? You were the new kid in town who was a failure everywhere you'd been and Theo saw it as an opportunity to boost his own stock if you weren't a total disgrace. It was a win-win for him, because if you fell flat on your face he could wipe his hands of it and blame YOU for your shortcomings. Theo may be an asshole, but he isn't stupid. He saw what happened with me and wouldn't let it happen again. Notice how you're 'not where you wanna be'?

It all comes full circle, Kido, and it all leads to the same result: You're not as good as we thought you were.

Your arrogance will be your downfall. I am being brought along by Jenny Myst?

Didn't SHE reach out to ME? She came and pulled me off my couch to give this place a shot in the arm when she didn't need to. She is one of the hottest names in wrestling right now, a current champion (can you say that?). I was ordering pizza every night and drinking screwdrivers on the beach in Clearwater....yet she felt she needed me. What I did was give her the opportunity to excel on her own, and she did that with flying colors, but she knows that when I join the party is when shit gets real. She knows what I am capable of, and trust me when I say this....Jenny needs me right now a whole lot more than I need her. Sorry babe, but its true.

Keep grasping for straws, Raion. Keep trying to pacify yourself and play defense when you haven't mastered offense yet.

I am not one to sit here and make excuses, or try to justify my past. I know I have had my ups and downs, and there are plenty of people on this roster who don't take a word I say seriously. Could care less if Chaos is back or not. Face facts, the XWF is better when Chris Chaos is in it. You would do your first promo from this place, and you would pull the wool over our eyes as to why. Everyone likes you because of your symbolism, but all you showed us is how in their pockets you are willing to be. How blinding you think you are and how absolutely disgusting you truly are. I am one of the worst people to ever sign a contract here, but at least I am honest about it.”

HE HONEST!

HONESTLY SEXY!


THIS RAION DUDE SOUNDS LIKE A DOUCHE BAG!


Chris leans in.

"Do you know what happened to Mr. Swope, Raion? He died suddenly after a perplexing, brief and violent illness. An autopsy was done, and his body.... contained lethal amounts of both strychnine and cyanide. The doctor that was with him when he died, was charged with murder by strychnine poisoning in "a plot for money." This doctor was, at the time, his closest friend.

What does that mean?

It means that even the closest people to you will turn their backs. Even the people you consider "good." Swope donated this land to the city in what he thought was an act of kindness, and died alone with nothing. Just like your legacy tomorrow night."

Chris sits down on the same bench where he met the first two unsavory folks. By now, he has an entire army of people around him.

The people are chaos, and chaos is the people.

"I thought we were getting paid for this!"

Chris smiled, pulling out a credit card that read Saionji Kido. AMEX. It must have been lifted from his wallet but Jenny when they towed his rental car.

He tossed the card to one of the crack heads. He dropped it. There was a scrum for it and a pile formed like lineman on a fumble.

And I want you, Mr. Redline, if your ego is still able to level out for just a second, to answer this very simple question…”

Chris Chaos leans towards the camera, his voice dropping almost to a whisper - an eerie worm that might plant itself inside Raion Kido's brain.

“Where do you go from here?”

Fade to black.]]> Swope Park, a staple in the Kansas City community. Designed to be a gift to the people of Kansas City from a prominent figure in society, it has been involved smack in the middle of some of the most evil and controversial situations in American history.

Chris walked through the park on this brisk night with his RAION KIDO tee shirt on and a nice pair of jeans. He was in awe of the beautiful architecture and design. It was dark but he could see the immaculately taken care of fields of grass. Flower beds and fountains, a public dining area overlooking the duck pond. An absolute picturesque display of human ingenuity, grace, charity and......segregation?

Kansas City was haunted by redlining-- a federal decision that effectively blocked investment and loan giving to black neighborhoods. This forced them into smaller and smaller areas, essentially limiting any chance to them having the same benefits of normal life that a white person would.

The one who "donated" this park to the city, Mr. Swope, the "Colonel", was one of the main redliners in the city.

Raion would do his promo here. He would do a promo in a place without knowing its history, thinking he is doing good when really he is smacking a large amount of people right in the face.

Chris walked down by the pond and sat on a bench facing the water.

He could see the city lights in the distance. How could a place so beautiful be named after a man with so much hate?

"Hey hot stuff. You looking for a good time?"

He turned his head to see a prostitute had sat down next to him. What in the hell?

"I seen him first!"

What appeared to be a homeless man damn near hip checked her off the bench. A gay prostitute?

"You got some change you could spare my man?"

Oh, phew.

Looking to the other side of the pond, he noticed in the darkness that several of these "unsavories" were wondering around. Where were they in the Raion promo? Why didn't he highlight them? Why wasn't he trying to help them?

Because Raion only cares about himself.

A grin came over Chris's face. This is exactly what he was talking about with Raion. A selfish, self-absorbed, elitist who can't be bothered by the problems of others.

"You each wanna make some money?"

Their ears perked up like a dog hearing the W word.

"Follow me, bring your friends."

Chris walked through the park, the two cast offs following close behind.

He gets to the spot where Raion began his promo. A spot where he praised pointed out the grave of the man who founded the park. The part where his entire persona was exposed. A place where he buried himself, symbolically, and didn't even know it. A place where pain and heartache was turned golden and made into a weapon by him---weapons like the ones used on the people of this city a century ago.

More on that later.

"You are so desperate to keep the wool over our eyes, so desperate to turn the attention away to how much of a phony you are, that you aren't even watching my promos. Not absorbing and soaking them in. Skimming through for credit, but coming away dumber than when you went turned it on."

Chaos walks by The Museum at 18th & Vine. He smiles with a thumbs up.

Isn't it great when it works out that way?

"What you are, underneath it all, is a parasite.”

Chris turns towards the crackheads who have all gathered around. There were some prostitutes in the mix, too, their breath visible in the chilly Kansas City air. "Can we clap it up for captain obvious? Come on, clap it up!"

He starts to clap, and the whores and rock addicts begin to clap as well, some salivating at the mouth for that promise of 5 whole dollars.

"I was calling myself a parasite you middling half-wit. You didn't come up with something new, didn't try to spin my comparison of you back onto me, didn't try to pick something obscure out of my last promo and use it against me. You simply called me what I already called myself. A parasite. Your parasite."

Parasite!


Yeah! He a parasite!

Fuck him up---uhhh---whats his name?

Chaos

YEAH! Fuck him up!

WAIT, WHY HE WEARING A KIDO SHIRT?!

I DONT LIKE KIDO NO MORE

I NEVER DID


I THOUGHT WE WERE GETTING PAID


"Calm down cracky. I'm almost done.

As I was saying. I got into your head, I infested your entire being, and your stuck in the mud because of it. I became your parasite and you hope Bad Medicine can shake me. This parasite is terminal."

YEAH! KILL HIM! HE SUCKS!

"And even the finest weapon is but that in the end - a tool that can very well be destroyed.”

"The only tool being destroyed at Bad Medicine is you, Raion. Your entire delusional reality will be called into question and the fingers will point squarely at your chest. The murmurs among the masses will be that Raion Kido cannot get the job done. Since the moment I got here, I have been public enemy number one, but I embraced the roll. I did it to the fullest. You don't truly believe that you're the savior of this company, you only care about being the savior of yourself. What do I mean? You've been driven out of every company you've been in because you folded like a card table when the heat got just a bit too hot. You let people get to you, break you down, wear you out, and you've been jumping from company to company hoping for that fresh start--hoping to hide the past. You didn't come here with your head held high, you came here with your tail tucked and you wanted everyone to believe that you were the unflappable face of courage and heroism.

You're a liar, Raion. A liar and a coward.

When I went after the integrity of Robert Main and I tried to call his clout to the stand, it was completely different. Robert Main was the be all, end all. He was the choke point. He was the iron gate to the kingdom. He and Apex ran roughshod over everyone, hoarded every belt for lengthy reigns, and had the cushion of management favoritism to fall back on. When I said I was coming to save the XWF from Robert Main, it was like the Allies coming to save Europe from oppression in 1944. When I say I am coming to save them from you---I am saving them from getting their hopes up. Did I succeed in my quest? Not entirely, but I sure put a crack in that armor.

I am going to do more than just crack your armor, Raion. I am going to smash it to pieces."

So tell me, Chaos, what exactly do I have to fear?

Yourself, Raion. Fear yourself. You think I chose you because you're the best? Please. I chose you because you're the easiest to influence, I told you that already. But why not Flynn? If he would have lost that match, it would have been him. Ten years of trying, ten years of not being good enough. I would be telling Mark how much of a useless failure he is right now if he lost but the facts are Raion--he got the job done. He beat you. Let him have his time to shine before I inevitably take it from him, but me choosing you wasn't because you're some supreme being. Me choosing you was because Flynn exposed you and moved on---I'm just finishing the job.

Pat yourself on the back some more while you continue to freefall. Climb the mountain and shout the the heavens because you don't care about those living at the base.

You never did.

You never will."

Chris continues his walk through the park with his band of misfits following him. People who had been written off, discarded, forgotten. People who society snubs their nose at. People who are told on a daily basis that they will never be anything to anyone.

He knows how this feels. Many people in the XWF had written him off, or forgot he existed entirely. Many of the people who were there now--shit they had heard of Chris Chaos but did they know him? Of course not. All they had been told was that he used to be great, glorious, one of if not the best. Now, he's a shell. Washed up and wrinkled. Rusted. A legacy made of brass but polished in shit.

His bosses hate him, but know how much he means to the XWF society. His bosses sit atop their throne with their autocracy and dictate rather than lead. They sit there sand continue to funnel their resources into those they deem worthy, overlooking the backbone of what makes their community possible in the first place.

Them along with the other greedy mossbacks who were evading taxes, fighting progress, and getting rich. Have you seen the XWF twitter lately?

A prostitute in the formation stops to talk to a park patron sitting on a bench. A crack head disappears down a back alley, wandering off to wherever they deemed fit.

This park was supposed to be a symbol of the city, much like XWF was a symbol of the wrestling community. Named after Thomas H. Swope, who at one time would become the largest individual land owner in Kansas City. Chris stops at a sign near the parks entrance.

*At 1,805-acres, Swope Park is the crown jewel of the KC Parks system. As Kansas City’s largest park, and one of the largest municipal parks in the United States, Swope Park is home to many of Kansas City’s finest attractions and annually hosts more than 2 million visitors*

He turned around and looked back at the debauchery behind him. Many of these crack heads and prostitutes were minorities. The cities less fortunate shoved into a space away from the city center, forced to sleep out in the cold among some of the most pristine landscape in the United States.

Something felt ironic about all of this.

"Raion, you throw names out there and you know nothing of these people and what they have done here. Names like The Engineer. Jim Caedus, even Peter Gilmour. Men who shaped the foundation for the ground you walk on. Men who made the XWF the place that it is today, that gave it the reputation it has today. The men who made this a place you sought out when you needed to refresh your floundering career. You came in and won the title, sure, but unlike those men you became complacent. You sat back and allowed things to happen as they did, and then have the nerve to complain about how you are "irked". Doctor D'Ville is rolling in his grave right now!"

HE AIN'T DEAD!

Chaos takes a bill out of his pocket and nods, handing it to the man who was scratching at his neck. He is clearly a bigger fan of the XWF than Raion Kido is.

"I wasn't there when you pinned John Madison or beat Finn Kuhn? First off, did you hear what you said? You've been reduced to fighting Madison and Kuhn when you should be in the Main Event every single show. You should be facing Flynn, Graves, Bourbon--someone who matters here. Instead, you're fighting people who shouldn't be allowed to park your car, then bragging about beating them. Secondly, I didn't need to be there. Too much of something ruins it. I did what I needed to do to get in your head, then sat back and watched you self-destruct on your own. Call it scared all you wish, I call it smart. You said yourself that not being where you think you should be "irks" you, but you brought it on yourself. I demanded title shots and big time matches because I know my worth, you question yours. You are okay with small fry matches because you can pad your stats and then tell us all how good you are. The sad reality is, you don't need to tell us, you need to tell yourself. So keep posturing, keep listing accomplishments, and we'll all keep laughing.

You combed through my history and picked out all the same things everyone else does. You hurled the same tired insults at me that I've heard a hundred times before. The difference is, you don't know my history the way you think you do.

Cater to Theo Pryce? How many times are you going to mention the trilogy? You have the second most powerful man in wrestling in your corner, and you are facing Avo? You're right, you don't cater to Theo Pryce...all you do is let him down.

You pushed the Corporate thing so hard you'd think it was Vinnie's LFL marketing strategy....but what you don't realize was why. What you don't understand is that it was Theo's idea. When he pitched it, I grinned ear to ear. If it was successful, I would have the corporate backing and the push from management to do anything I wanted....if it was a failure, Theo would be on the hook for recommending it to begin with. It was a win-win. I got to troll Theo, and be in the limelight all the while. You call it a stain on my record, I call it a good business decision. You're still talking about it, aren't you?

The difference with you is that I already had years of dominance under my belt. I was an established name here. You? You were the new kid in town who was a failure everywhere you'd been and Theo saw it as an opportunity to boost his own stock if you weren't a total disgrace. It was a win-win for him, because if you fell flat on your face he could wipe his hands of it and blame YOU for your shortcomings. Theo may be an asshole, but he isn't stupid. He saw what happened with me and wouldn't let it happen again. Notice how you're 'not where you wanna be'?

It all comes full circle, Kido, and it all leads to the same result: You're not as good as we thought you were.

Your arrogance will be your downfall. I am being brought along by Jenny Myst?

Didn't SHE reach out to ME? She came and pulled me off my couch to give this place a shot in the arm when she didn't need to. She is one of the hottest names in wrestling right now, a current champion (can you say that?). I was ordering pizza every night and drinking screwdrivers on the beach in Clearwater....yet she felt she needed me. What I did was give her the opportunity to excel on her own, and she did that with flying colors, but she knows that when I join the party is when shit gets real. She knows what I am capable of, and trust me when I say this....Jenny needs me right now a whole lot more than I need her. Sorry babe, but its true.

Keep grasping for straws, Raion. Keep trying to pacify yourself and play defense when you haven't mastered offense yet.

I am not one to sit here and make excuses, or try to justify my past. I know I have had my ups and downs, and there are plenty of people on this roster who don't take a word I say seriously. Could care less if Chaos is back or not. Face facts, the XWF is better when Chris Chaos is in it. You would do your first promo from this place, and you would pull the wool over our eyes as to why. Everyone likes you because of your symbolism, but all you showed us is how in their pockets you are willing to be. How blinding you think you are and how absolutely disgusting you truly are. I am one of the worst people to ever sign a contract here, but at least I am honest about it.”

HE HONEST!

HONESTLY SEXY!


THIS RAION DUDE SOUNDS LIKE A DOUCHE BAG!


Chris leans in.

"Do you know what happened to Mr. Swope, Raion? He died suddenly after a perplexing, brief and violent illness. An autopsy was done, and his body.... contained lethal amounts of both strychnine and cyanide. The doctor that was with him when he died, was charged with murder by strychnine poisoning in "a plot for money." This doctor was, at the time, his closest friend.

What does that mean?

It means that even the closest people to you will turn their backs. Even the people you consider "good." Swope donated this land to the city in what he thought was an act of kindness, and died alone with nothing. Just like your legacy tomorrow night."

Chris sits down on the same bench where he met the first two unsavory folks. By now, he has an entire army of people around him.

The people are chaos, and chaos is the people.

"I thought we were getting paid for this!"

Chris smiled, pulling out a credit card that read Saionji Kido. AMEX. It must have been lifted from his wallet but Jenny when they towed his rental car.

He tossed the card to one of the crack heads. He dropped it. There was a scrum for it and a pile formed like lineman on a fumble.

And I want you, Mr. Redline, if your ego is still able to level out for just a second, to answer this very simple question…”

Chris Chaos leans towards the camera, his voice dropping almost to a whisper - an eerie worm that might plant itself inside Raion Kido's brain.

“Where do you go from here?”

Fade to black.]]> <![CDATA[Remember, remember...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45151 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 21:16:45 -0800 "Venom" Xavier Lux]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45151 Xavier comes out on the other side of the tree line and is shocked to see a limo engulfed in flames. He surveys the area and catches Marcus laying on the grass, clearly having blown back from the explosion. Xavier rushes over and kneels in front of him and shakes him, no response. He puts his ear to his chest and then to his nose and is relieved to feel he is still breathing. He pulls out his cellphone, ready to call 911 when Marcus grabs his arm and begins coughing. Xavier turns to him and through his ash-covered face, he sees his piercing black eyes. Marcus tries to speak, and Xavier sits him up a bit, and holds him in his arms.
Remember, remember, our favorite movie? He coughs… the 5th of November… cough… The gunpowder, treason and plot… cough…

V for Vendetta, of course, our favorite movie homie. Look don’t talk, I’m going to call an ambulance so they-

Finish it...

He asks him desperately, grabbing him by his shirt. He then coughs again and some blood spills out.

What? Nah man, we got no time for that, you’re in bad shape, you need medical attention.

It’s too late for that cough… just finish it… please…

Xavier puts down the phone…

I know of no reason… Why the gunpowder treason… Should ever be forgot.

Marcus smiles revealing his blood-stained teeth.

Thanks… I will never… forget… your treason.

What?

Lux is taken back, as he was probably expecting something along the lines of ‘never forget our friendship, brotherhood, our time in wrestling’; anything but what he actually said. Could Marcus, even in his dying moments, not let go of a grudge? I guess there are those people who will take their feuds to the grave. Marcus passes and Xavier is both sadden and confused, until he gets hit in the back of his head with the stock of a rifle, which knocks him down on top of Marcus. He holds his head in pain, feeling blood, tries to turn to see who his attacker is but gets hit once again, this time on his forehead and he passes out on top of Marcus.


This is what I have to deal with. The ugly side of pro wrestling, the one nobody ever talks about. Listening to people like this spew their nonsense, hatred, delusions and straight up lies. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do one of these responsorial promos and quite frankly, that is the way I like it. I barely watch the lone promos my opponents do for our matches, and when I’m forced to do a second one myself to respond to theirs, well that is when the fun can go out of wrestling for me.

You see, unlike Jenny who just loves to rant incoherently and crack her terrible jokes and puns and becomes so defensive when someone, anyone calls her out on her bullshit; I choose to listen, sometimes laugh, sometimes roll my eyes and then I walk away. I do not engage, there is no point, there is no reward... The result of me engaging in a battle of words, not of wits, is more of those same words! There is no point of trying to argue with someone like Jenny Myst because she doesn’t listen to reason. There is no point of engaging someone like Goth, because that guy is so monotone you run the possibility of putting yourself into a comma that you may not wake up from in time for your match.

You see the levels I'm having to lower myself to?

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times... I do my talking in the ring.

This isn't the debate club, this is wrestling. There is such a thing as cutting a promo inside the ring, or in the backstage area before a match or even after it... I draw the line at doing our 1 show vignettes, but to just have to sit here and respond to everything that was said, it is simply, torture... and I have been tortured before, many times, if not by my father then by former tag team partner Marcus and trust me, this is worst.

HOWEVER, I am willing to make an exception for this match... Why? Simple: The X-treme championship is on the line and for this title I am willing to do whatever it takes. Would I rather talk about the match itself? The different hardcore ways I’m going to approach our three-way match, the different ways I plan to push my opponents to the extreme? How I’m going to hurt them in every way possible? Of course I would... But this is where we are at and so, I will watch and report back.


Xavier wakes up in a hospital room, tied up to a medical bed that has all kinds of wires attached to his arms and to the back of his head. He can’t see this last one, but he can feel it. He looks around, squinting his eyes and sees a lab across from him and a small office with a glass window that shows a couple of people sitting down looking at monitors. He tries to free himself using brute force, first with his legs and then with his arms but to no avail.

It won’t work, I already tried.

Xavier recognizes Marcus’ voice right away and turns toward him. Marcus is tied down too but unlike him, his ribcage is heavily gauzed and taped.

You died in my arms.

Wait, this is really happening? I thought I had died, and this was just the beginning of the hell that awaited me for all the sins I committed when I was alive. Granted, I was a pretty good guy until you came into my life. 

Pretty good guy? You tried to bury me alive with my already dead father whom I’m still not convinced it wasn’t you that killed him!

I did not kill your father; he was already dead! All I did was reunite the two of you, what’s wrong with that?

That I was still alive you psycho! And all because I moved on from our so-called team? Had I known you had these kinds of separation anxiety issues, I would have never tagged with you in the first place!

But we were so good as The Sins of the Father! Besides-

But before he can continue, someone walks into the room, a familiar face.

Crane, is that you?

Dude, Paco has been looking everywhere for you!

“Mr. Personality” Douglas Crane as he is known, is a member of the Seven Deadly Sins stable along with Marcus and Xavier and 3 others, and the newest one, he has only been with the group since August of 2021 and only wrestled in one promotion: Project Honor. When that promotion folded, Douglas simply disappeared and despite Paco, the leader of the current 7DS stable, doing everything he can to try to find him, to this date, he had not been able to. Douglas is called Mr. Personality because he suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. We don’t know what event or trauma caused DID to begin with and at what age but according to his latest therapist, only a third of his personalities, if that, have surfaced and taken control at one point at another. However, the personality that is more predominant out of the nine so far, is “The Grappler” and that is why he is a wrestler and that is how Paco met him and allowed him to join the stable… it wasn’t until much later that he learned about his condition, and we tell you all this information because we simply don’t know which Crane is the one that is standing in front of them, wearing military gear and holding an M16 in his arms. He stands on guard, completely ignoring them.

Crane, can you hear me? Which Crane are you? What’s your name?

Do you know where we are right now? What is going on?

The answers come, but not from Douglas, behind him comes a bald man with a weird looking goatee,  wearing a black suit with a white lab coat over it.

Yes, Mr. Crane knows but he will not answer because he listens only to me now.

Who the hell are you?

Heh, I wouldn’t expect you to know who I am… but perhaps Marcus may know of me seeing as how I knew your father. I mean I knew Xavier’s father as well, but he didn’t know you existed then, nor did I.

No, I have never seen you before in my life. I’m pretty sure my father would have mentioned a creepy looking dude who gives off bad Dr. Jekyll vibes. 

Why am I not surprised the Punisher or Scorpion wouldn’t tell you about me, or about the wrestler they replaced with their own sons.

What are you talking about?

My name is Paul Sinister, and I was the manager of the original, ‘new’ deadly sins: Weapon X.

Um, like, Wolverine?

That’s exactly who I thought of!

Of course not. He was the first of the new blood, but the old Sins didn’t appreciate the way he was doing things, the way I chose to manage him. They accused me of using mind control to make him wrestle in RPW and all but kill his opponents. They wanted to know his history and feared that I was running experiments on him and when I refused to share any information on him, they let both of us go. Eventually I would lose my weapon, and ever since then, I have been plotting my revenge against your stable and now that you have added your 7th and final member in Crane, it only took me but a few months to do what I did to my Weapon X. Crane, turn around.

Crane does as told, and the doctor points towards his neck where you can see a scar in the shape of an X. Marcus and Xavier look at each other concerned.


I’ve implanted a chip on the spine of Douglas that allows me to control him… He is the first member of my new stable. He is going to be my singles wrestler, but any great stable needs a great tag team and what better tag team than The Sins of the Fathers!

If you think we are going to let you put some mind controlling chip on the back of our heads you got another thing coming pal.

Even if you did, I have the best techs in the world working for me in my company. They would have no trouble removing it!

Well Xavier, you can’t stop what has already been done… and if you or anyone tries to remove the chip, then, your heads will get blown to pieces.

Like Suicide Squad?

What?

We watch movies too you know.

Enough!The deed is done, you two belong to me now. Soon you will join a promotion of my choosing and do my bidding, just like Weapon should have, just like Crane will. Just like all the Deadly Sins will. I will control them all and have my revenge!

We’re going to stop you!

You won’t get away with this!

I already have.

The doctor pushes a button in a small device in his hand and both fall asleep right away. Paul laughs hysterically as Douglas shows no emotion, well, his left eye twitches a bit, but that’s about it. Scene fades in and out and Xavier wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He looks around confused, wondering if that was just a dream or reality. He quickly gets to his feet, grabbing his phone and heading to the bathroom. He turns on the lights, then on his phone, he switches to the camera and then turns so his back is to the mirror. He then tries to look at the back of his neck through his phone and to his dismay, he sees the “X” scar. A text from Marcus pops up: "do you have the scar too?"

Fuck me…

He doesn't answer.


Well there go a couple of hours I’m never getting back into my life. You know for someone who seems to be such a deep thinker in Goth, and for someone who thinks so highly of herself in Jenny Myst, both of them decided to go for the lowest of the hanging fruits when it comes to me… Both chose to focus on me calling myself “venom” and their reasons for what they think I am not it.. Why I don’t portray the word or live the word or even know what it means.

Well, since I know neither of you are actually going to make the effort in doing some homework, I will go ahead and explain to you why.. Thought if you watch the episodes of the World Series of Wrestling, you will know everything you need to know… But I get it… Again, both of you are too lazy to try…

Goth is too busy brooding and Myst is too busy looking for one liners and punchlines on the internet… You know for someone who is supposed to be a witch reincarnated from an ugly ass doll, you sound a lot like someone pressed to sound funny during a bombing session at “the Improv.” You ever heard of the phrase stay in character? Could you seriously not come at me in the way that Jenny Myst, the reincarnated witch is supposed to instead of sad excuse of a human being pretending to be a dark and broody character? We are professional wrestlers or even sports entertainers if you fancy, but trying to set-up a wrestling match and not a bunch of nobodies at a Denny’s trying to tell jokes at the roast of some has been celebrity. Again, no one wonder no one takes you seriously… No one that matters anyway… and you claim to be one of the best XWF has ever seen? Bitch you are not even in the top 50 of this year, let alone all time… You’re a nobody who has hung around XWF for far too long… That is all…

I’m sorry Goth, I know you rather I focused my rant on you, and I would love to, but if I’m being one hundred percent honest, I find you so mutha-f’n boring man. You claim that the lead-ups to a match bore you and guess what man, IT SHOWS! I legit fell asleep trying to watch your promo, and I’m not trying to be a dick or anything.. I enjoy a good character.. I enjoy a good storyteller, but my man, you ain’t it…. And you know what else you ain’t? JESUS… I was raised Catholic, though I never really practiced but even I know there is no mention of Goth in the damn bible… You walked on water, died for our sins in the cross and resurrected three days later? Do you really think that when people ask the question “What Would Jesus Do?” they think oh yeah he would probably join XWF and wrestle for the X-treme championship. I’ve heard of God-complexes man, but literally believing you are Him who is He? Your level of delusionality is beyond saving and beyond me wasting a single second more on.

ANYWAY, yes, I call myself Venom for a very simple reason.. It was childhood promise I made to my favorite wrestler of all time… A man I considered to be my hero: Scorpion. I would eventually find out that man was my father, and he was trying to kill me and I won’t open that can of worms, but again, watch the World Series of Wrestling, you’ll learn everything there… But his finisher was called “The Stinger”, a submission move, so when I was a little kid, thinking of becoming a wrestler, I thought why not venom? That is what comes out of a scorpion’s sting, which is used to paralyze, and not to kill, yes I knew this Goth. You really think I call myself Venom because I want to be a killer? You say I’m not a killer and no shit Sherlock, I am not in this business to murder my opponents. Do you think I will still be wrestling in the sport if that was my purpose? I’d be behind bars you mumbling idiot…

Like I said, you two went for the low hanging fruit and it shows.

ANYWHO, when I returned to wrestling a little over the year ago, I tried to drop the moniker, but frankly it followed me wherever I went so I decided to stick with it, but evolved it and I’m sure you two morons didn’t know that either, so I will fill you in into what it has evolved to.. I am not longer just “Venom” Xavier Lux… But I am “the man with venom in his veins”. And before you even open your stupid trap Myst and say “you can’t have venom in your veins you mediocre wrestler, you’ll die.” Let me explain you face painted mule. The venom doesn’t kill you as our nerd Goth so aptly explained, and so I have venom in my veins because my blood is filled with hatred, with bitterness, with contempt… Not for my father, I have actually moved on from that… But for wrestlers like you two…. From stereotypes like the two of you and many more that fill the locker room of the XWF. That is the venom that flows through my veins and that is why when we are in the ring, I hit all my opponents with both the toxin and the cure… Because first I paralyze you and then I end you…

The two of you will not be the exception…

You two are part of the infection, and the infection must die.

------------------------------------------------Word count: 3000 via wordcounter.net
]]> Xavier comes out on the other side of the tree line and is shocked to see a limo engulfed in flames. He surveys the area and catches Marcus laying on the grass, clearly having blown back from the explosion. Xavier rushes over and kneels in front of him and shakes him, no response. He puts his ear to his chest and then to his nose and is relieved to feel he is still breathing. He pulls out his cellphone, ready to call 911 when Marcus grabs his arm and begins coughing. Xavier turns to him and through his ash-covered face, he sees his piercing black eyes. Marcus tries to speak, and Xavier sits him up a bit, and holds him in his arms.
Remember, remember, our favorite movie? He coughs… the 5th of November… cough… The gunpowder, treason and plot… cough…

V for Vendetta, of course, our favorite movie homie. Look don’t talk, I’m going to call an ambulance so they-

Finish it...

He asks him desperately, grabbing him by his shirt. He then coughs again and some blood spills out.

What? Nah man, we got no time for that, you’re in bad shape, you need medical attention.

It’s too late for that cough… just finish it… please…

Xavier puts down the phone…

I know of no reason… Why the gunpowder treason… Should ever be forgot.

Marcus smiles revealing his blood-stained teeth.

Thanks… I will never… forget… your treason.

What?

Lux is taken back, as he was probably expecting something along the lines of ‘never forget our friendship, brotherhood, our time in wrestling’; anything but what he actually said. Could Marcus, even in his dying moments, not let go of a grudge? I guess there are those people who will take their feuds to the grave. Marcus passes and Xavier is both sadden and confused, until he gets hit in the back of his head with the stock of a rifle, which knocks him down on top of Marcus. He holds his head in pain, feeling blood, tries to turn to see who his attacker is but gets hit once again, this time on his forehead and he passes out on top of Marcus.


This is what I have to deal with. The ugly side of pro wrestling, the one nobody ever talks about. Listening to people like this spew their nonsense, hatred, delusions and straight up lies. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do one of these responsorial promos and quite frankly, that is the way I like it. I barely watch the lone promos my opponents do for our matches, and when I’m forced to do a second one myself to respond to theirs, well that is when the fun can go out of wrestling for me.

You see, unlike Jenny who just loves to rant incoherently and crack her terrible jokes and puns and becomes so defensive when someone, anyone calls her out on her bullshit; I choose to listen, sometimes laugh, sometimes roll my eyes and then I walk away. I do not engage, there is no point, there is no reward... The result of me engaging in a battle of words, not of wits, is more of those same words! There is no point of trying to argue with someone like Jenny Myst because she doesn’t listen to reason. There is no point of engaging someone like Goth, because that guy is so monotone you run the possibility of putting yourself into a comma that you may not wake up from in time for your match.

You see the levels I'm having to lower myself to?

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times... I do my talking in the ring.

This isn't the debate club, this is wrestling. There is such a thing as cutting a promo inside the ring, or in the backstage area before a match or even after it... I draw the line at doing our 1 show vignettes, but to just have to sit here and respond to everything that was said, it is simply, torture... and I have been tortured before, many times, if not by my father then by former tag team partner Marcus and trust me, this is worst.

HOWEVER, I am willing to make an exception for this match... Why? Simple: The X-treme championship is on the line and for this title I am willing to do whatever it takes. Would I rather talk about the match itself? The different hardcore ways I’m going to approach our three-way match, the different ways I plan to push my opponents to the extreme? How I’m going to hurt them in every way possible? Of course I would... But this is where we are at and so, I will watch and report back.


Xavier wakes up in a hospital room, tied up to a medical bed that has all kinds of wires attached to his arms and to the back of his head. He can’t see this last one, but he can feel it. He looks around, squinting his eyes and sees a lab across from him and a small office with a glass window that shows a couple of people sitting down looking at monitors. He tries to free himself using brute force, first with his legs and then with his arms but to no avail.

It won’t work, I already tried.

Xavier recognizes Marcus’ voice right away and turns toward him. Marcus is tied down too but unlike him, his ribcage is heavily gauzed and taped.

You died in my arms.

Wait, this is really happening? I thought I had died, and this was just the beginning of the hell that awaited me for all the sins I committed when I was alive. Granted, I was a pretty good guy until you came into my life. 

Pretty good guy? You tried to bury me alive with my already dead father whom I’m still not convinced it wasn’t you that killed him!

I did not kill your father; he was already dead! All I did was reunite the two of you, what’s wrong with that?

That I was still alive you psycho! And all because I moved on from our so-called team? Had I known you had these kinds of separation anxiety issues, I would have never tagged with you in the first place!

But we were so good as The Sins of the Father! Besides-

But before he can continue, someone walks into the room, a familiar face.

Crane, is that you?

Dude, Paco has been looking everywhere for you!

“Mr. Personality” Douglas Crane as he is known, is a member of the Seven Deadly Sins stable along with Marcus and Xavier and 3 others, and the newest one, he has only been with the group since August of 2021 and only wrestled in one promotion: Project Honor. When that promotion folded, Douglas simply disappeared and despite Paco, the leader of the current 7DS stable, doing everything he can to try to find him, to this date, he had not been able to. Douglas is called Mr. Personality because he suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. We don’t know what event or trauma caused DID to begin with and at what age but according to his latest therapist, only a third of his personalities, if that, have surfaced and taken control at one point at another. However, the personality that is more predominant out of the nine so far, is “The Grappler” and that is why he is a wrestler and that is how Paco met him and allowed him to join the stable… it wasn’t until much later that he learned about his condition, and we tell you all this information because we simply don’t know which Crane is the one that is standing in front of them, wearing military gear and holding an M16 in his arms. He stands on guard, completely ignoring them.

Crane, can you hear me? Which Crane are you? What’s your name?

Do you know where we are right now? What is going on?

The answers come, but not from Douglas, behind him comes a bald man with a weird looking goatee,  wearing a black suit with a white lab coat over it.

Yes, Mr. Crane knows but he will not answer because he listens only to me now.

Who the hell are you?

Heh, I wouldn’t expect you to know who I am… but perhaps Marcus may know of me seeing as how I knew your father. I mean I knew Xavier’s father as well, but he didn’t know you existed then, nor did I.

No, I have never seen you before in my life. I’m pretty sure my father would have mentioned a creepy looking dude who gives off bad Dr. Jekyll vibes. 

Why am I not surprised the Punisher or Scorpion wouldn’t tell you about me, or about the wrestler they replaced with their own sons.

What are you talking about?

My name is Paul Sinister, and I was the manager of the original, ‘new’ deadly sins: Weapon X.

Um, like, Wolverine?

That’s exactly who I thought of!

Of course not. He was the first of the new blood, but the old Sins didn’t appreciate the way he was doing things, the way I chose to manage him. They accused me of using mind control to make him wrestle in RPW and all but kill his opponents. They wanted to know his history and feared that I was running experiments on him and when I refused to share any information on him, they let both of us go. Eventually I would lose my weapon, and ever since then, I have been plotting my revenge against your stable and now that you have added your 7th and final member in Crane, it only took me but a few months to do what I did to my Weapon X. Crane, turn around.

Crane does as told, and the doctor points towards his neck where you can see a scar in the shape of an X. Marcus and Xavier look at each other concerned.


I’ve implanted a chip on the spine of Douglas that allows me to control him… He is the first member of my new stable. He is going to be my singles wrestler, but any great stable needs a great tag team and what better tag team than The Sins of the Fathers!

If you think we are going to let you put some mind controlling chip on the back of our heads you got another thing coming pal.

Even if you did, I have the best techs in the world working for me in my company. They would have no trouble removing it!

Well Xavier, you can’t stop what has already been done… and if you or anyone tries to remove the chip, then, your heads will get blown to pieces.

Like Suicide Squad?

What?

We watch movies too you know.

Enough!The deed is done, you two belong to me now. Soon you will join a promotion of my choosing and do my bidding, just like Weapon should have, just like Crane will. Just like all the Deadly Sins will. I will control them all and have my revenge!

We’re going to stop you!

You won’t get away with this!

I already have.

The doctor pushes a button in a small device in his hand and both fall asleep right away. Paul laughs hysterically as Douglas shows no emotion, well, his left eye twitches a bit, but that’s about it. Scene fades in and out and Xavier wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He looks around confused, wondering if that was just a dream or reality. He quickly gets to his feet, grabbing his phone and heading to the bathroom. He turns on the lights, then on his phone, he switches to the camera and then turns so his back is to the mirror. He then tries to look at the back of his neck through his phone and to his dismay, he sees the “X” scar. A text from Marcus pops up: "do you have the scar too?"

Fuck me…

He doesn't answer.


Well there go a couple of hours I’m never getting back into my life. You know for someone who seems to be such a deep thinker in Goth, and for someone who thinks so highly of herself in Jenny Myst, both of them decided to go for the lowest of the hanging fruits when it comes to me… Both chose to focus on me calling myself “venom” and their reasons for what they think I am not it.. Why I don’t portray the word or live the word or even know what it means.

Well, since I know neither of you are actually going to make the effort in doing some homework, I will go ahead and explain to you why.. Thought if you watch the episodes of the World Series of Wrestling, you will know everything you need to know… But I get it… Again, both of you are too lazy to try…

Goth is too busy brooding and Myst is too busy looking for one liners and punchlines on the internet… You know for someone who is supposed to be a witch reincarnated from an ugly ass doll, you sound a lot like someone pressed to sound funny during a bombing session at “the Improv.” You ever heard of the phrase stay in character? Could you seriously not come at me in the way that Jenny Myst, the reincarnated witch is supposed to instead of sad excuse of a human being pretending to be a dark and broody character? We are professional wrestlers or even sports entertainers if you fancy, but trying to set-up a wrestling match and not a bunch of nobodies at a Denny’s trying to tell jokes at the roast of some has been celebrity. Again, no one wonder no one takes you seriously… No one that matters anyway… and you claim to be one of the best XWF has ever seen? Bitch you are not even in the top 50 of this year, let alone all time… You’re a nobody who has hung around XWF for far too long… That is all…

I’m sorry Goth, I know you rather I focused my rant on you, and I would love to, but if I’m being one hundred percent honest, I find you so mutha-f’n boring man. You claim that the lead-ups to a match bore you and guess what man, IT SHOWS! I legit fell asleep trying to watch your promo, and I’m not trying to be a dick or anything.. I enjoy a good character.. I enjoy a good storyteller, but my man, you ain’t it…. And you know what else you ain’t? JESUS… I was raised Catholic, though I never really practiced but even I know there is no mention of Goth in the damn bible… You walked on water, died for our sins in the cross and resurrected three days later? Do you really think that when people ask the question “What Would Jesus Do?” they think oh yeah he would probably join XWF and wrestle for the X-treme championship. I’ve heard of God-complexes man, but literally believing you are Him who is He? Your level of delusionality is beyond saving and beyond me wasting a single second more on.

ANYWAY, yes, I call myself Venom for a very simple reason.. It was childhood promise I made to my favorite wrestler of all time… A man I considered to be my hero: Scorpion. I would eventually find out that man was my father, and he was trying to kill me and I won’t open that can of worms, but again, watch the World Series of Wrestling, you’ll learn everything there… But his finisher was called “The Stinger”, a submission move, so when I was a little kid, thinking of becoming a wrestler, I thought why not venom? That is what comes out of a scorpion’s sting, which is used to paralyze, and not to kill, yes I knew this Goth. You really think I call myself Venom because I want to be a killer? You say I’m not a killer and no shit Sherlock, I am not in this business to murder my opponents. Do you think I will still be wrestling in the sport if that was my purpose? I’d be behind bars you mumbling idiot…

Like I said, you two went for the low hanging fruit and it shows.

ANYWHO, when I returned to wrestling a little over the year ago, I tried to drop the moniker, but frankly it followed me wherever I went so I decided to stick with it, but evolved it and I’m sure you two morons didn’t know that either, so I will fill you in into what it has evolved to.. I am not longer just “Venom” Xavier Lux… But I am “the man with venom in his veins”. And before you even open your stupid trap Myst and say “you can’t have venom in your veins you mediocre wrestler, you’ll die.” Let me explain you face painted mule. The venom doesn’t kill you as our nerd Goth so aptly explained, and so I have venom in my veins because my blood is filled with hatred, with bitterness, with contempt… Not for my father, I have actually moved on from that… But for wrestlers like you two…. From stereotypes like the two of you and many more that fill the locker room of the XWF. That is the venom that flows through my veins and that is why when we are in the ring, I hit all my opponents with both the toxin and the cure… Because first I paralyze you and then I end you…

The two of you will not be the exception…

You two are part of the infection, and the infection must die.

------------------------------------------------Word count: 3000 via wordcounter.net
]]> <![CDATA[maddy the outlaw]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45150 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 21:13:57 -0800 John Madison Jr.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45150 Me, my father, and mentor in Calgary always warned me about dirty ass hoes name Angie.]]> Me, my father, and mentor in Calgary always warned me about dirty ass hoes name Angie.]]> <![CDATA[Burning A Way]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45148 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 20:31:40 -0800 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45148 Notorious No More 
Pt. 7
Burning A Way

Previous NNM Entries
Pt.1: A Literal Ned
Pt.2: A Figurative Ned
Pt.3: Humility On Parade
Pt.4: The Adventure of The Gashed Gauntlets
Pt.5: No Way Back
Pt.6: Beacon of Light



Now, there is a fire in me
A fire that burns

November 19th, 2022


4:57 pm


“Why?” Ned asked, fearing the answer, but requiring it regardless. He had never had a friend do something like this before. It was one thing to help hurt him but hurting somewhat unrelated to all of it sickened Ned to a degree he struggled to define on a mental level. It was a raw, unfiltered disgust coursed through his body.

“Do you know what they call psychiatrists whose biggest achievement is getting used by some crazy guy to avoid a mental health wellness check, Ned? Well, it's not hire-able!” Urias said, swallowing his fear as he leaned forward, doing his best to stand up for himself, “You embarrassed me and then treated me like garbage throughout all of the Avalanche stuff and when you didn't need me anymore, you didn't even bother to leave a text! I thought we were friends, Ned!”

“I kept you close to me because I knew you'd at least stand up for my interests! At least, I thought that, but now you'll break God knows how many laws just to get back at me?!”

“Get back at you? This is why I took this job to begin with, Ned, because you have this complex that everything and everyone is against you when it's just you. You broke my trust when I thought we were pals! You hurt me! You abandoned me like I was nothing! Don't you pin this all on me because I got the message you sent.”

Ned stared at his feet, feeling the burning reality of most of Urias's claims, but retorted regardless.

“That doesn't mean you just get to break the law or go off getting other people involved. You have a problem with me? Fine, I earned it, but you should have left Darcy out of this.”

“It wasn't my choice...” Urias sighed, avoiding Ned's gaze as he finally looked upward, “it was-”

“Doug's, right?” Ned answered for him, causing Urias to freeze up at Ned's deduction.

“It wasn't that hard to figure out, I'd had my suspicions for a while. Plus, it helped his name was on the documents you dropped. But none of that changes the fact that you knew he was up to some awful behavior, and you stuck by him regardless. You did make a choice, Urias, and like all of us, you're gonna live with it. Now get the fuck out of here. I don't want to see or hear you ever again, but you should be a safe distance away from what I'm about to do.”

“Wh-wh-what's that?” Urias stammered as Ned stepped past him, not even turning to answer.

“I'm going to burn this place to the ground.”

And with that, Ned made his way to the boiler room as Pheelanruff sat for a moment, feeling the guilt for his actions before heading towards the exit as instructed.


“I was so close!” Douglas crushed the laptop beneath his foot even further, doing his best to make it unrecognizable through the sheer force of his heel, “It was going to make me millions and then all of these years wouldn't have been a waste, but I just had to throw you a bone, didn't I, Darcy?”

“Throw me a bone?” Darcy shook her head. Certainly, she was frightened by his outburst, but a righteous sure of anger caused her to speak up, “You fucking kidnapped me as bait for somebody else! We were the only people apart of this project who treated each other like human being instead of specimens and now apparently chaining me to a terminal is a favor?! Fuck off, Doug! You're not some victim in this! There were a million more ways to do this, and you chose to be a gigantic prick and do it the easy way!”

Donohue turned away for a moment, her words striking something within him, but it only causing him more rage as he grabbed the intercom microphone and tossed it towards her, nearly colliding with her. His next words were eerily calm sounding despite his demeanor.

“You tell him to get back in the chamber with the mask on. Now.”

Darcy gulped before leaning slightly closer towards him and responding as bravely as she could.

“Or what?”

The words of Dante Cormack rung inside of Douglas's head.

We must make these difficult choices. Otherwise, no one else shall.

He looked down, tearfully, not wanting to do what he knew he had to. He whimpered slightly as he tried to build himself up to it. Darcy was right. They were friends. Hell, he liked her company, but still. He needed that money. He thought of the life of squalor his ancestors would have to live in if he couldn't find the strength to do what was needed now. He thought of the years he had wasted if he backed out at this moment. And like a wave of serenity, he found the strength to stand and walked towards the main desk he had, pulling a pistol out of it and pointing it directly at Darcy.

“Or... or I am going to put a bullet in your head. That's what.”

Darcy's eyes widened in disbelief, she began to speak, trying to reason with him, but he cut her off before the first syllable.

“He can find you whole or with a hole between your eyes, the choice is yours. Now, are you gonna tell him to get back in the chamber?”

She silently nodded, unsure what else she really could do at this point. Relieved, Douglas picked up the small radio on his belt and spoke into it, beginning to breathe more calmly now.

“Urias, we're almost done. As soon as we get 100%, I want you to get out of here, okay? We've almost got everything we need to sell the core data for more than we've ever seen before our lives,” he chuckled somewhat, the long journey almost over. But no answer came over the radio. Several seconds passed as Doug lifted it towards his lips once more, the pistol in his other hand.

“Urias, are yo-”

Ned tackled Douglas to the ground, Donohue managing to fire a shot into the ceiling as the contact was made. Having actual experience in combat, Kaye kept the weapon hand pinned as he delivered a few elbow blows to Doug's head, knocking the man out swiftly. He grabbed the gun out from Donohue's unconscious grip and put it away safely, making sure to put the safety on make another change or two as Darcy called out from the other side of the room.

“Jesus Christ, am I happy to see you, Ned,” she said, smiling a bit, though primarily just feeling exhausted by the entire situation, “Mind uncuffing me?”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” Ned answered with a slight smirk to try and lighten the mood, patting Doug's pockets until he found a few keys, quickly putting the pistol away in the back of his pants as he freed Darcy, earning himself a tight hug from his friend, returning it with equal force.

“Let's stick to watching horror movies instead of starring in them.”

“Agreed, now let's get a move on, we don't have much time,” Ned directed as he lifted Doug's comatose body over his shoulder.

“Why don't we have much time?” Darcy asked, stretching somewhat.

“Well, the place is about to blow, so we really oughta hurry.”

“Blow?” She tilted her head, only processing what he said after a second thought, “WAIT LIKE BLOW UP?!”

“Yeah, like that,” Ned confirmed, heading towards the doorway, “Probably should really hurry now.”

They rushed out of the room, Darcy grabbing the cuffs and key to restrain Douglas's hands like he had her own. Ned was mostly adept at orienting them towards the exit, but the new addition to the HQ made things a little more complex and carrying Donohue didn't help in the slightest.

“So, what was this all about?” Darcy asked as they finally started to approach more familiar territory.

“Well, I didn't mention this, but before War Games, your sister's medicine for the experimental treatment go-”

“Got intercepted and you grabbed it for her, I know.”

“...You knew?”

“Well, yeah, Ned, I'm not somebody who stops existing just because you aren't in the room. Plus, I like to know this stuff.”

Ned nodded, coming to terms with the revelation that she was aware of situation to some degree, “You see, my team got caught up in a simulation thing like we did before the Bobby Bourbon match. It's pretty obvious now that this was all Doug's doing. He was trying to get a copy of The Chameleon data that wasn't all built around my specifications because the feds took the main data away. It looks like he was trying to rebuild a mental profile with some help.”

“Help? Like who?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Darcy shrugged as they finally made it to the entrance, walking into the simulation chamber that led outside. Finally, things were looking up.

That's when the boiler room exploded.

Ned, Doug, and Darcy were flung across the room, the collision throwing all of them off, except for Doug who was awakened by the blast. Seeing the gun slide away from Ned, he scrambled for it, point it at Darcy as she was incapacitated and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Ned stood up. His hand clutched the ammo clip he had preemptively removed tightly as he stared daggers into Douglas Donohue, the flames beginning to encompass the chamber more fully.

“Leave, Darce,” Ned spoke, “Now.”

Ellis didn't argue as the two men stared at each other, slightly bloodied by the explosion. The chamber, malfunctioning began to attempt to reconstruct the snowstorm that Ned had been caught in in March 2020. He didn't say a word as he approached Douglas, his gaze as cold as the artificial snow that burned around them.

“Well, you Die Hard'd me, I'll give you th-,” Ned's fist smashed against his face, interrupting his speech. It was nothing like the elbows Ned deployed earlier. Sure, he was angry before, but this was a genuine hit. Ned was trying to hurt him. He tried to reason.

“Please, I-”

Kaye's foot knocked the wind out of him, causing Doug to crumple to the ground, hands restrained fully. Ned positioned himself over Donohue and began choking him, lost in a deep rage over what he tried to pull, tossing the clip aside. He watched as the color seemed to drain from Doug's face with every passing second. Ned had a decision to make. A person to choose to be. The simulation around them shifted to the night he burned all his alcohol before the match with Robert Main. He looked up and saw the flames mix with the real ones the building was producing.

Someone has to make the hard choices, Ned thought.


Darcy stood outside, watching the building burning brightly with the snow behind it, the darkness of the night broken by the flames. She was unsure if Ned was going to come out of there, but she hoped for the best regardless. Suddenly, she saw a silhouette step from the burning building, dragging behind him the body of Douglas Donohue. Doug didn't move for a moment, coughing and sputtering breath as he was finally free of the flames. Ned tossed him to the side, his hands shaking in anger as he watched the man writhe in pain. Darcy walked over to Kaye, breathing heavily as she wiped some blood from her face.

“You saved him,” she said, somewhat surprised given the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Ned replied flatly. 

“...He might be a son of a bitch, but that doesn't justify murder. He did a lot of fucked up things and put your life at risk as well as your sis's. But that can't be what we do. Justify bad actions because other people have made them. Eventually, somebody has to make the right choice.”

She nodded, sitting beside him as they waited for the authorities to pick up Donohue and watched Avalanche HQ burn to the ground, enjoying the warmth of each other and the flames.


“Choice.”

“It's a concept we often pretend that we don't have. We talk about fate or factors that push us towards certain outcomes and, yes, those absolutely exist, but often times are unwillingness to believe in free will comes by way of our unwillingness to change. And changing is a choice. Everybody thinks I wake up every morning and put on some good guy shirt that makes me the token nice lad, but the truth is that it's difficult as hell to be the good guy. That's why I've failed at it before, it's why I'll stumble in the future. But wanting to be a hero or good isn't about perfection, it never has been. It's getting up and constantly deciding to try to better yourself and your actions for the benefit of others, not just yourself. It's why Charlie has a million excuses for why he is the way he is and no solutions. It is a choice. We are not all afforded the same tools and possibilities and realities, frankly, but we are all given the choice of how we react and adapt to the world given to us and how we wish to give it to the next person in line. That's true of championships, of family, of the world we live in and the fact of the matter is that Charlie Nickles does not give a damn about who comes after him, all he cares about is now and himself and it is an empty way to live.”

“And it's the way he has chosen.”

“I might think Charlie is a giant piece of shit whose entire schtick is trying to get under other people's skin while he remains blissfully in a state of dealing out shit he can't take, but the truth is that I really pity him. He has family he chooses not to value. A belt he chooses to honor. A company he decides to try and put beneath him as far as possible. A historic television brand he couldn't give one less of a fuck trying to do right by. He has so much and he appreciates so little. That's not a big bad champion, that's just sad. A tragedy in two words: Charlie Nickles. Wanna know something, Nickles? I already know you're going to be as underhanded and slimy and shitty to try and get one over on me which is why I've chosen to do the exact opposite. I don't know what you've said about me. I don't care. They're the nonsensical ramblings of a fool whose only love is him with a mask on his face. You're so dedicated to avoiding responsibility for your actions that you pawn it off to some supernatural force even when you're doing good.”

“You've always chosen an easy way over an honorable way. It's why you'll never understand why I cashed in without it being some big surprise. For you, a case is supposed to be a free championship. Easy. Simple. Hell, we both know the reason you thought I was a good match for your first defense is because you didn't think you'd have to try very hard. I hope for your sake tomorrow, that you try your damnedest because I'd prefer to not completely embarrass you. The Supercontinental Title is a symbol of unity. Of a champion who will take any challenge, any day, any how. You don't even want to challenge yourself to be a crappy Dad instead of a supremely shit one. You're not a champion, not in mindset and sure as hell not in attitude and I'm not saying anything we all don't already know, but I am promising something.”

“That when I take that belt off of you, you're going to see what it means to embody an ideal and not just some opportunistic need to win. When I pin or submit or knock your ass out, you are going to get up and realize the shadow you are standing in is massive and your place in this title's lineage ever so minuscule. I promise to beat the absolute hell out of you without having to go down to your level because I do not need to. You give yourself crutches and consider it strength because all you want is glory and gold and a nice little word or two before your name, but you've chosen a dead end path that runs into my boot and I'm not going anywhere. You can continue playing your games or trying to pull whatever sleight of hand makes people think you are more capable than you are, but I'm not fooled, Charlie. I've walked in a ton of shoes and I've been down a similar path to you, yet I don't let my mistakes define who I am, it's a decision that passes by me and I am never going to emulate your miserable, lonely, isolated existence. I have people who care about me and love me for who I am and you have shoved every last bit of that away for a shiny fucking belt. And it's not even one you're going to hold for very long.”

“Just make sure that you come to terms with giving that title up at Bad Medicine because that choice is no longer yours to make.”


Ned knocked on the door, standing near Darcy as he anxiously awaited the door to be answered. A billion thoughts seemed to rush through his head at once as he nervously tapped his foot.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” He uttered, his hands shaking as he tried to focus on his breathing, “We can always come back at a different ti-”

“Ned,” Darcy said, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, “You're gonna be fine, okay? You can do this.”

He didn't believe her, but he knew she wasn't going to lie to him, so he settled down, watching as the door slowly creaked open and his mother poked her head out, overjoyed to see him, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

“Hey, Mom,” The words left Ned's lips in a shaky manner as he tried his best to think of something to say, “I had a match coming up and I just-”

Without a word, she gave him a big, crying somewhat as Ned began to do the same.

“It's been a while, kiddo.”

“Yeah, yeah it has...”

Ned smiled, happy to finally start taking a few steps towards reconnecting with what made him Ned Kaye. Darcy watched, smiling softly at the reunion of the two as the hug broke, Mrs. Kaye wiping her eyes somewhat.

“Would you and your friend like to come in for a bit?”

The two nodded, following Mrs. Kaye into the house for a long overdue conversation.]]> Notorious No More 
Pt. 7
Burning A Way

Previous NNM Entries
Pt.1: A Literal Ned
Pt.2: A Figurative Ned
Pt.3: Humility On Parade
Pt.4: The Adventure of The Gashed Gauntlets
Pt.5: No Way Back
Pt.6: Beacon of Light



Now, there is a fire in me
A fire that burns

November 19th, 2022


4:57 pm


“Why?” Ned asked, fearing the answer, but requiring it regardless. He had never had a friend do something like this before. It was one thing to help hurt him but hurting somewhat unrelated to all of it sickened Ned to a degree he struggled to define on a mental level. It was a raw, unfiltered disgust coursed through his body.

“Do you know what they call psychiatrists whose biggest achievement is getting used by some crazy guy to avoid a mental health wellness check, Ned? Well, it's not hire-able!” Urias said, swallowing his fear as he leaned forward, doing his best to stand up for himself, “You embarrassed me and then treated me like garbage throughout all of the Avalanche stuff and when you didn't need me anymore, you didn't even bother to leave a text! I thought we were friends, Ned!”

“I kept you close to me because I knew you'd at least stand up for my interests! At least, I thought that, but now you'll break God knows how many laws just to get back at me?!”

“Get back at you? This is why I took this job to begin with, Ned, because you have this complex that everything and everyone is against you when it's just you. You broke my trust when I thought we were pals! You hurt me! You abandoned me like I was nothing! Don't you pin this all on me because I got the message you sent.”

Ned stared at his feet, feeling the burning reality of most of Urias's claims, but retorted regardless.

“That doesn't mean you just get to break the law or go off getting other people involved. You have a problem with me? Fine, I earned it, but you should have left Darcy out of this.”

“It wasn't my choice...” Urias sighed, avoiding Ned's gaze as he finally looked upward, “it was-”

“Doug's, right?” Ned answered for him, causing Urias to freeze up at Ned's deduction.

“It wasn't that hard to figure out, I'd had my suspicions for a while. Plus, it helped his name was on the documents you dropped. But none of that changes the fact that you knew he was up to some awful behavior, and you stuck by him regardless. You did make a choice, Urias, and like all of us, you're gonna live with it. Now get the fuck out of here. I don't want to see or hear you ever again, but you should be a safe distance away from what I'm about to do.”

“Wh-wh-what's that?” Urias stammered as Ned stepped past him, not even turning to answer.

“I'm going to burn this place to the ground.”

And with that, Ned made his way to the boiler room as Pheelanruff sat for a moment, feeling the guilt for his actions before heading towards the exit as instructed.


“I was so close!” Douglas crushed the laptop beneath his foot even further, doing his best to make it unrecognizable through the sheer force of his heel, “It was going to make me millions and then all of these years wouldn't have been a waste, but I just had to throw you a bone, didn't I, Darcy?”

“Throw me a bone?” Darcy shook her head. Certainly, she was frightened by his outburst, but a righteous sure of anger caused her to speak up, “You fucking kidnapped me as bait for somebody else! We were the only people apart of this project who treated each other like human being instead of specimens and now apparently chaining me to a terminal is a favor?! Fuck off, Doug! You're not some victim in this! There were a million more ways to do this, and you chose to be a gigantic prick and do it the easy way!”

Donohue turned away for a moment, her words striking something within him, but it only causing him more rage as he grabbed the intercom microphone and tossed it towards her, nearly colliding with her. His next words were eerily calm sounding despite his demeanor.

“You tell him to get back in the chamber with the mask on. Now.”

Darcy gulped before leaning slightly closer towards him and responding as bravely as she could.

“Or what?”

The words of Dante Cormack rung inside of Douglas's head.

We must make these difficult choices. Otherwise, no one else shall.

He looked down, tearfully, not wanting to do what he knew he had to. He whimpered slightly as he tried to build himself up to it. Darcy was right. They were friends. Hell, he liked her company, but still. He needed that money. He thought of the life of squalor his ancestors would have to live in if he couldn't find the strength to do what was needed now. He thought of the years he had wasted if he backed out at this moment. And like a wave of serenity, he found the strength to stand and walked towards the main desk he had, pulling a pistol out of it and pointing it directly at Darcy.

“Or... or I am going to put a bullet in your head. That's what.”

Darcy's eyes widened in disbelief, she began to speak, trying to reason with him, but he cut her off before the first syllable.

“He can find you whole or with a hole between your eyes, the choice is yours. Now, are you gonna tell him to get back in the chamber?”

She silently nodded, unsure what else she really could do at this point. Relieved, Douglas picked up the small radio on his belt and spoke into it, beginning to breathe more calmly now.

“Urias, we're almost done. As soon as we get 100%, I want you to get out of here, okay? We've almost got everything we need to sell the core data for more than we've ever seen before our lives,” he chuckled somewhat, the long journey almost over. But no answer came over the radio. Several seconds passed as Doug lifted it towards his lips once more, the pistol in his other hand.

“Urias, are yo-”

Ned tackled Douglas to the ground, Donohue managing to fire a shot into the ceiling as the contact was made. Having actual experience in combat, Kaye kept the weapon hand pinned as he delivered a few elbow blows to Doug's head, knocking the man out swiftly. He grabbed the gun out from Donohue's unconscious grip and put it away safely, making sure to put the safety on make another change or two as Darcy called out from the other side of the room.

“Jesus Christ, am I happy to see you, Ned,” she said, smiling a bit, though primarily just feeling exhausted by the entire situation, “Mind uncuffing me?”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” Ned answered with a slight smirk to try and lighten the mood, patting Doug's pockets until he found a few keys, quickly putting the pistol away in the back of his pants as he freed Darcy, earning himself a tight hug from his friend, returning it with equal force.

“Let's stick to watching horror movies instead of starring in them.”

“Agreed, now let's get a move on, we don't have much time,” Ned directed as he lifted Doug's comatose body over his shoulder.

“Why don't we have much time?” Darcy asked, stretching somewhat.

“Well, the place is about to blow, so we really oughta hurry.”

“Blow?” She tilted her head, only processing what he said after a second thought, “WAIT LIKE BLOW UP?!”

“Yeah, like that,” Ned confirmed, heading towards the doorway, “Probably should really hurry now.”

They rushed out of the room, Darcy grabbing the cuffs and key to restrain Douglas's hands like he had her own. Ned was mostly adept at orienting them towards the exit, but the new addition to the HQ made things a little more complex and carrying Donohue didn't help in the slightest.

“So, what was this all about?” Darcy asked as they finally started to approach more familiar territory.

“Well, I didn't mention this, but before War Games, your sister's medicine for the experimental treatment go-”

“Got intercepted and you grabbed it for her, I know.”

“...You knew?”

“Well, yeah, Ned, I'm not somebody who stops existing just because you aren't in the room. Plus, I like to know this stuff.”

Ned nodded, coming to terms with the revelation that she was aware of situation to some degree, “You see, my team got caught up in a simulation thing like we did before the Bobby Bourbon match. It's pretty obvious now that this was all Doug's doing. He was trying to get a copy of The Chameleon data that wasn't all built around my specifications because the feds took the main data away. It looks like he was trying to rebuild a mental profile with some help.”

“Help? Like who?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Darcy shrugged as they finally made it to the entrance, walking into the simulation chamber that led outside. Finally, things were looking up.

That's when the boiler room exploded.

Ned, Doug, and Darcy were flung across the room, the collision throwing all of them off, except for Doug who was awakened by the blast. Seeing the gun slide away from Ned, he scrambled for it, point it at Darcy as she was incapacitated and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Ned stood up. His hand clutched the ammo clip he had preemptively removed tightly as he stared daggers into Douglas Donohue, the flames beginning to encompass the chamber more fully.

“Leave, Darce,” Ned spoke, “Now.”

Ellis didn't argue as the two men stared at each other, slightly bloodied by the explosion. The chamber, malfunctioning began to attempt to reconstruct the snowstorm that Ned had been caught in in March 2020. He didn't say a word as he approached Douglas, his gaze as cold as the artificial snow that burned around them.

“Well, you Die Hard'd me, I'll give you th-,” Ned's fist smashed against his face, interrupting his speech. It was nothing like the elbows Ned deployed earlier. Sure, he was angry before, but this was a genuine hit. Ned was trying to hurt him. He tried to reason.

“Please, I-”

Kaye's foot knocked the wind out of him, causing Doug to crumple to the ground, hands restrained fully. Ned positioned himself over Donohue and began choking him, lost in a deep rage over what he tried to pull, tossing the clip aside. He watched as the color seemed to drain from Doug's face with every passing second. Ned had a decision to make. A person to choose to be. The simulation around them shifted to the night he burned all his alcohol before the match with Robert Main. He looked up and saw the flames mix with the real ones the building was producing.

Someone has to make the hard choices, Ned thought.


Darcy stood outside, watching the building burning brightly with the snow behind it, the darkness of the night broken by the flames. She was unsure if Ned was going to come out of there, but she hoped for the best regardless. Suddenly, she saw a silhouette step from the burning building, dragging behind him the body of Douglas Donohue. Doug didn't move for a moment, coughing and sputtering breath as he was finally free of the flames. Ned tossed him to the side, his hands shaking in anger as he watched the man writhe in pain. Darcy walked over to Kaye, breathing heavily as she wiped some blood from her face.

“You saved him,” she said, somewhat surprised given the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Ned replied flatly. 

“...He might be a son of a bitch, but that doesn't justify murder. He did a lot of fucked up things and put your life at risk as well as your sis's. But that can't be what we do. Justify bad actions because other people have made them. Eventually, somebody has to make the right choice.”

She nodded, sitting beside him as they waited for the authorities to pick up Donohue and watched Avalanche HQ burn to the ground, enjoying the warmth of each other and the flames.


“Choice.”

“It's a concept we often pretend that we don't have. We talk about fate or factors that push us towards certain outcomes and, yes, those absolutely exist, but often times are unwillingness to believe in free will comes by way of our unwillingness to change. And changing is a choice. Everybody thinks I wake up every morning and put on some good guy shirt that makes me the token nice lad, but the truth is that it's difficult as hell to be the good guy. That's why I've failed at it before, it's why I'll stumble in the future. But wanting to be a hero or good isn't about perfection, it never has been. It's getting up and constantly deciding to try to better yourself and your actions for the benefit of others, not just yourself. It's why Charlie has a million excuses for why he is the way he is and no solutions. It is a choice. We are not all afforded the same tools and possibilities and realities, frankly, but we are all given the choice of how we react and adapt to the world given to us and how we wish to give it to the next person in line. That's true of championships, of family, of the world we live in and the fact of the matter is that Charlie Nickles does not give a damn about who comes after him, all he cares about is now and himself and it is an empty way to live.”

“And it's the way he has chosen.”

“I might think Charlie is a giant piece of shit whose entire schtick is trying to get under other people's skin while he remains blissfully in a state of dealing out shit he can't take, but the truth is that I really pity him. He has family he chooses not to value. A belt he chooses to honor. A company he decides to try and put beneath him as far as possible. A historic television brand he couldn't give one less of a fuck trying to do right by. He has so much and he appreciates so little. That's not a big bad champion, that's just sad. A tragedy in two words: Charlie Nickles. Wanna know something, Nickles? I already know you're going to be as underhanded and slimy and shitty to try and get one over on me which is why I've chosen to do the exact opposite. I don't know what you've said about me. I don't care. They're the nonsensical ramblings of a fool whose only love is him with a mask on his face. You're so dedicated to avoiding responsibility for your actions that you pawn it off to some supernatural force even when you're doing good.”

“You've always chosen an easy way over an honorable way. It's why you'll never understand why I cashed in without it being some big surprise. For you, a case is supposed to be a free championship. Easy. Simple. Hell, we both know the reason you thought I was a good match for your first defense is because you didn't think you'd have to try very hard. I hope for your sake tomorrow, that you try your damnedest because I'd prefer to not completely embarrass you. The Supercontinental Title is a symbol of unity. Of a champion who will take any challenge, any day, any how. You don't even want to challenge yourself to be a crappy Dad instead of a supremely shit one. You're not a champion, not in mindset and sure as hell not in attitude and I'm not saying anything we all don't already know, but I am promising something.”

“That when I take that belt off of you, you're going to see what it means to embody an ideal and not just some opportunistic need to win. When I pin or submit or knock your ass out, you are going to get up and realize the shadow you are standing in is massive and your place in this title's lineage ever so minuscule. I promise to beat the absolute hell out of you without having to go down to your level because I do not need to. You give yourself crutches and consider it strength because all you want is glory and gold and a nice little word or two before your name, but you've chosen a dead end path that runs into my boot and I'm not going anywhere. You can continue playing your games or trying to pull whatever sleight of hand makes people think you are more capable than you are, but I'm not fooled, Charlie. I've walked in a ton of shoes and I've been down a similar path to you, yet I don't let my mistakes define who I am, it's a decision that passes by me and I am never going to emulate your miserable, lonely, isolated existence. I have people who care about me and love me for who I am and you have shoved every last bit of that away for a shiny fucking belt. And it's not even one you're going to hold for very long.”

“Just make sure that you come to terms with giving that title up at Bad Medicine because that choice is no longer yours to make.”


Ned knocked on the door, standing near Darcy as he anxiously awaited the door to be answered. A billion thoughts seemed to rush through his head at once as he nervously tapped his foot.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” He uttered, his hands shaking as he tried to focus on his breathing, “We can always come back at a different ti-”

“Ned,” Darcy said, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, “You're gonna be fine, okay? You can do this.”

He didn't believe her, but he knew she wasn't going to lie to him, so he settled down, watching as the door slowly creaked open and his mother poked her head out, overjoyed to see him, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

“Hey, Mom,” The words left Ned's lips in a shaky manner as he tried his best to think of something to say, “I had a match coming up and I just-”

Without a word, she gave him a big, crying somewhat as Ned began to do the same.

“It's been a while, kiddo.”

“Yeah, yeah it has...”

Ned smiled, happy to finally start taking a few steps towards reconnecting with what made him Ned Kaye. Darcy watched, smiling softly at the reunion of the two as the hug broke, Mrs. Kaye wiping her eyes somewhat.

“Would you and your friend like to come in for a bit?”

The two nodded, following Mrs. Kaye into the house for a long overdue conversation.]]> <![CDATA[Final goodbyes - Part 3]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45136 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 19:02:26 -0800 Mastermind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45136 Quote:River, river carry me on
Living river carry me on
River, river carry me on
To the place where I come from
- Peter Gabriel's Washing in the water


I stood there stuck to the spot, just standing inside the doorway looking at Outback Jack with his eyes closed on the bed.  Tubes were coming out of his body.  He couldn't even talk.  His wife Susan, gently guided me into the room.


SUSAN: "I've asked the nurse to take the tube out of his mouth so he can talk to you,"

"Doesn't he need it?"

SUSAN: "He can breathe on his own for a little while, he really wants to talk to you,"

All I did was nod, and heard footsteps behind, as a nurse walked past us, and headed over to Outback Jack's bed.

NURSE: "Sir,"

Outback Jack's eyes opened.

NURSE: "I'm going to take the breathing tube out so you can talk to your wife and friend,"

Outback Jack looked over in my direction, and his eyes opened so much, as if he was so happy to see me.  A chill ran down my spine.

He nodded.

We waited for the nurse to take out the breathing tube.


Quote:So deep, so wide
Will you take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall
Would you swallow me deep inside


The nurse finished what she was doing, and she took a quick read of the important stuff on the television next to the bed, and walked back over to us.

NURSE: "I can give you an hour before I need to put him back on,"

SUSAN: "An hour will be fine, thank you,"

The Nurse smiled and walked out of the room.  Susan once again gently led me over to the bed.

SUSAN: "Jack, look who's here,"

Outback Jack smiled, but he looked like he was in pain.

SUSAN: "I'll give you guys a bit of space, I'll be back soon, Jack,"

Outback Jack nodded.

Susan gave me a quick nudge on the arm, to say everything was okay, and then walked out of the room, leaving me looking down at my old mentor.  Tears swelled up.

"Hi Outback Jack,"

Outback Jack breathed and smiled again.  He was looking very weak.

OUTBACK JACK: "Hi 'M', I knew you would make it."

He swallowed hard, and breathed in and out.

OUTBACK JACK: "I am very sorry that I didn't tell you until now,"

I shook my head.

"I kinda understand,"

OUTBACK JACK: "Where's Maria?"

"On her way, should be here soon, Jensen's gone to pick her up at the airport."

Outback  Jack swallowed hard again, and breathed in and out.

OUTBACK JACK: "How did Thursday Night Anarchy go?  Did you meet Ruby in the Main Event?"

He swallowed again, and breathed in and out.

OUTBACK JACK: "Did you get to go Bad Medicine to fight to get the Anarchy title back?"

I shook my head.

"Final two though."

OUTBACK JACK: "Who are you meeting at Bad Medicine?"

"It's not important,"

OUTBACK JACK: "It is to me, please tell me,"

"Bloody Bobby Bourbon, he calls himself the Grand Pooh Bah now,"

Outback Jack tried to laugh but he couldn't.  He just laid there, closing his eyes.  I just stood there, not knowing what to do.


Quote:River show me how to float
I feel like I'm sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water
My feet won't touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around


After what felt like a few minutes, he finally opened his eyes.

OUTBACK JACK: "Don't be scared 'M', I'm just trying to conserve energy,"

"I'm not scared,"

OUTBACK JACK: "Liar.  Listen, it won't be long now, I can feel it coming,"

"What?  Feel what coming?"

Outback Jack stopped and breathed, trying to get more energy.

OUTBACK JACK: "The end, I can feel the end coming,"

"Don't speak like that,"

OUTBACK JACK: "It's the truth 'M;.  I've accepted it.  I've been holding on long enough until you arrived,"

"Why me?"

OUTBACK JACK: "Because apart from Susan, and my kids, and the Gym, you are the most important person to have come into my life,"

Outback Jack stopped and once again closed his eyes.


Quote:Going away, towards the sea
River deep, can you lif up and carry me
Oh roll on through the heartland
'Til the sun has left the sky
River, river carry me high,
'Til the washing of the water make it all allright
Let your waters reach me, like she reached me tonight.

- Peter Gabriel's Washing in the Water


I knew letting go of Outback Jack would be so, so hard.  He had been my mentor and friend for many many years, when I first met him in my late teens all those years ago.  I was hurting, because he was in so much pain.  It was tough  to stand there watching him struggle.

He opened his eyes.

OUTBACK JACK: 'M' promise me one thing?"

"What?"

OUTBACK JACK: "Well two things, really,"

"What?"

OUTBACK JACK: "The first, I know how bad you want to reclaim the Anarchy Title, or the Television Title,"

Outback Jack stopped and breathed in some oxygen.

"Let's not talk about that, it's not important,"


OUTBACK JACK: "It is to me, you are to me.  I want you to fight very hard to reclaim them,"

"Okay I will."

OUTBACK JACK: "Promise me,"

"Okay I promise that I will fight very hard and try to reclaim the Anarchy title or the Television Title,"

Outback Jack laid there struggling to breathe.

OUTBACK JACK: "Good, good."

The Nurse walked back into the room with Susan.


NURSE: "I'm sorry, he's struggling with his oxygen, I need to place the tube back in his mouth."

OUTBACK JACK: "No, wait, I need to tell 'M' the second reason,"

"What's the second reason?"

OUTBACK JACK: "Stay with me until it's time, it's not long now."

Quote: Letting go, it's so hard
The way it's hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with this thing
'Cause if I follow through
I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me,
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, lonliness I hide.

- Peter Gabriel's Washing in the water.


I looked at Susan,  She nodded.

"Okay,"


OUTBACK JACK: "Thank you."

"No, thank you."

We watched as the nurse put the breathing tube back in Outback Jack, and she made sure that he was comfortable, before leaving us alone.  Susan sat down on a chair beside him holding out his hand.    I walked across to the other side of the room, and looked out of the window, feeling so much pain, and sorrow.  The memories of him teaching me all those years ago came flooding back.

Quote:River, oh river, river running deep

I turned back around and walked back over to the bed and sat down on the chair that was already there.  Outback Jack looked at Susan, then looked at me, and tried to smile.  I grabbed his other hand.

Quote:Bring me something that will let me get to sleep

I leaned forward,

"Thank you so much Outback Jack, for what you did for me all those years ago.  I love you very very much.  I will do whatever I can to repair the faith that you put in me back then, over the years, and right now,"

Outback Jack smiled, and then looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

Quote:In the washing of the water will you take it all away

For what seemed like minutes Outback Jack slept, and then opened his eyes and looked again at me.  It was like he was asking me to if it was okay to go.

"It's okay, Jack, if you want to go, you go,"

As tears poured down my face, and his, he turned and looked at his wife.  She grabbed his hand hard in hers, and she had tears also.

SUSAN: "You want to go, you go.  Be at peace."


Quote:Bring me something to take this pain away
- Peter Gabriel's Washing of the water.

And just like that, he closed his eyes, and he was gone.


MASTERMIND'S LOCKER ROOM

Mastermind is preparing for his match against Grand Pooh Bob Bobby Bourbon and the Bad Medicine Pay Per View is only hours away from starting.  Mastermind has decided to prepare early.

He looks at the camera.

"Run, Bobby.  I want you to run as fast as you can away from here, if you ever think you have the rights to beat me.  So I implore you to run.  Either that or I'll drive you off myself with a barrage of shots that you won't withstand.  But whichever you decide to go, either run or stay, I will make it my business to stop you, once and for all."

He looks away from the camera, and gets up and walks over to the window to see the line of fans waiting to get inside.  He turns back to the camera.

"My instincts say I can and I will beat you, I promise you that.  You may feel you have what it takes to compete on 3 Pay Per Views back to back to back, but your one mistake will be to take me very, very lightly.  I will make sure that will burn you.  Your decison to compete and not take me seriously will be one fatal mistake too many.

"Either I take you down under a lot of noise or by the quietness, I don't give a stuff.  I have pride to uphold, not only for myself, not only for my fans, not only for the Misfits who I represent, but also for a great friend of mind who passed away recently.  This is my time, not yours."

Mastermind stops as if he is struggling to come to terms with the loss of his old friend Outback Jack, his mentor.  But he pulls himself together.

"I will reach out and make sure I get all the strength I need to take you down.

"I can tell you this, that in your eyes you can beat me, but in my eyes, and deep down inside me, I know I can beat you, and I will.  So look into my eyes when that bell rings to start the match, and tell me if you don't see it.  It won't be fear, it will be knowledge that I will take you down once and for all.  I can see myself doing that, yes siree.  Beating you to a pulp.  After all it is an extreme rules match, making it an anything goes match.  Weapon galore.

"Be honest to yourself, be truthful to yourself and to us all, even make a confession.  Taking on 3 PPV's at once is far too much for you, and you are just going to take me lightly.    Going on I implore you.  Make it public.  Don't leave it lying beneath you."


Mastermind smirks his infamous smirk.

"If I were you, and luckily I'm not.  You best take care now, you hear.  I know how much of a poet that you are, All the poetry in the world won't save you from me.  You think you are the greatest?  You think you are the bestest?  You think you are a King or God?  Or a leader of a tired gang of men who can't get what they want at the best of times!  You forget who I am.  I am Mastermind.  I don't stay down without giving it my all.

"I will make sure you feel the pain.  I think you will feel ashamed becaused of that.  The great Bobby Bourbon, the once fat man, and now the skinny political type, will find out what it will be like to underestimate me.

"I can picture myself beating you, and I will Bobby, I will.  Come hell or highwater.  Your first mistake was to not fully focus on me, and that will be your one and only mistake.  The pressure will become too much to handle for you, Bobby.  I know you are under constant pressure.    You don't want to show it, or let people know it, but losing to me will be too much to bare.  But I give you my word, that I will beat you fairly and squarely.    It's all about to end at Bad Medicine Bobby, like a headache for you.  I'll be a thorn in your side that you won't be able to pluck.

"So you better take care Bobby, these last few hours are your last, before you become a laughing stock of your little merry men.  You don't deserve all of this.  Not by taking me so lightly.  I could tell from your first promo, it was all about you.  Your second promo just barely broke even, but alas it'll be all for nothing.

"So your sins are coming back to bite you in the butt.  And I will be the one to take those sins away and beat you like you deserve to be beaten, and then you can go back to your band of merry men, and tell them all the excuses in the world, but we both know where you lost this match.

"You are going to lose this match Bobby Borbon.  Once and for all.  I will guarantee you that.  There's nothing that you can do about it.  You might put up a great fight, but at the end of the day, we all know that it will be night.  It'll be night night, lights out for you.

"So as you look back in your mirrors at what hit you when it's all said and done, be prepared to figure out a way to feel the need for another round, only then you should take that more seriously.  And that's is all I am going to say on the match.  See you soon Grand Pooh Bob."

Mastermind spits at the camera, and turns and walks away.  The camera fades out.]]> Quote:River, river carry me on
Living river carry me on
River, river carry me on
To the place where I come from
- Peter Gabriel's Washing in the water


I stood there stuck to the spot, just standing inside the doorway looking at Outback Jack with his eyes closed on the bed.  Tubes were coming out of his body.  He couldn't even talk.  His wife Susan, gently guided me into the room.


SUSAN: "I've asked the nurse to take the tube out of his mouth so he can talk to you,"

"Doesn't he need it?"

SUSAN: "He can breathe on his own for a little while, he really wants to talk to you,"

All I did was nod, and heard footsteps behind, as a nurse walked past us, and headed over to Outback Jack's bed.

NURSE: "Sir,"

Outback Jack's eyes opened.

NURSE: "I'm going to take the breathing tube out so you can talk to your wife and friend,"

Outback Jack looked over in my direction, and his eyes opened so much, as if he was so happy to see me.  A chill ran down my spine.

He nodded.

We waited for the nurse to take out the breathing tube.


Quote:So deep, so wide
Will you take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall
Would you swallow me deep inside


The nurse finished what she was doing, and she took a quick read of the important stuff on the television next to the bed, and walked back over to us.

NURSE: "I can give you an hour before I need to put him back on,"

SUSAN: "An hour will be fine, thank you,"

The Nurse smiled and walked out of the room.  Susan once again gently led me over to the bed.

SUSAN: "Jack, look who's here,"

Outback Jack smiled, but he looked like he was in pain.

SUSAN: "I'll give you guys a bit of space, I'll be back soon, Jack,"

Outback Jack nodded.

Susan gave me a quick nudge on the arm, to say everything was okay, and then walked out of the room, leaving me looking down at my old mentor.  Tears swelled up.

"Hi Outback Jack,"

Outback Jack breathed and smiled again.  He was looking very weak.

OUTBACK JACK: "Hi 'M', I knew you would make it."

He swallowed hard, and breathed in and out.

OUTBACK JACK: "I am very sorry that I didn't tell you until now,"

I shook my head.

"I kinda understand,"

OUTBACK JACK: "Where's Maria?"

"On her way, should be here soon, Jensen's gone to pick her up at the airport."

Outback  Jack swallowed hard again, and breathed in and out.

OUTBACK JACK: "How did Thursday Night Anarchy go?  Did you meet Ruby in the Main Event?"

He swallowed again, and breathed in and out.

OUTBACK JACK: "Did you get to go Bad Medicine to fight to get the Anarchy title back?"

I shook my head.

"Final two though."

OUTBACK JACK: "Who are you meeting at Bad Medicine?"

"It's not important,"

OUTBACK JACK: "It is to me, please tell me,"

"Bloody Bobby Bourbon, he calls himself the Grand Pooh Bah now,"

Outback Jack tried to laugh but he couldn't.  He just laid there, closing his eyes.  I just stood there, not knowing what to do.


Quote:River show me how to float
I feel like I'm sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water
My feet won't touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around


After what felt like a few minutes, he finally opened his eyes.

OUTBACK JACK: "Don't be scared 'M', I'm just trying to conserve energy,"

"I'm not scared,"

OUTBACK JACK: "Liar.  Listen, it won't be long now, I can feel it coming,"

"What?  Feel what coming?"

Outback Jack stopped and breathed, trying to get more energy.

OUTBACK JACK: "The end, I can feel the end coming,"

"Don't speak like that,"

OUTBACK JACK: "It's the truth 'M;.  I've accepted it.  I've been holding on long enough until you arrived,"

"Why me?"

OUTBACK JACK: "Because apart from Susan, and my kids, and the Gym, you are the most important person to have come into my life,"

Outback Jack stopped and once again closed his eyes.


Quote:Going away, towards the sea
River deep, can you lif up and carry me
Oh roll on through the heartland
'Til the sun has left the sky
River, river carry me high,
'Til the washing of the water make it all allright
Let your waters reach me, like she reached me tonight.

- Peter Gabriel's Washing in the Water


I knew letting go of Outback Jack would be so, so hard.  He had been my mentor and friend for many many years, when I first met him in my late teens all those years ago.  I was hurting, because he was in so much pain.  It was tough  to stand there watching him struggle.

He opened his eyes.

OUTBACK JACK: 'M' promise me one thing?"

"What?"

OUTBACK JACK: "Well two things, really,"

"What?"

OUTBACK JACK: "The first, I know how bad you want to reclaim the Anarchy Title, or the Television Title,"

Outback Jack stopped and breathed in some oxygen.

"Let's not talk about that, it's not important,"


OUTBACK JACK: "It is to me, you are to me.  I want you to fight very hard to reclaim them,"

"Okay I will."

OUTBACK JACK: "Promise me,"

"Okay I promise that I will fight very hard and try to reclaim the Anarchy title or the Television Title,"

Outback Jack laid there struggling to breathe.

OUTBACK JACK: "Good, good."

The Nurse walked back into the room with Susan.


NURSE: "I'm sorry, he's struggling with his oxygen, I need to place the tube back in his mouth."

OUTBACK JACK: "No, wait, I need to tell 'M' the second reason,"

"What's the second reason?"

OUTBACK JACK: "Stay with me until it's time, it's not long now."

Quote: Letting go, it's so hard
The way it's hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with this thing
'Cause if I follow through
I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me,
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, lonliness I hide.

- Peter Gabriel's Washing in the water.


I looked at Susan,  She nodded.

"Okay,"


OUTBACK JACK: "Thank you."

"No, thank you."

We watched as the nurse put the breathing tube back in Outback Jack, and she made sure that he was comfortable, before leaving us alone.  Susan sat down on a chair beside him holding out his hand.    I walked across to the other side of the room, and looked out of the window, feeling so much pain, and sorrow.  The memories of him teaching me all those years ago came flooding back.

Quote:River, oh river, river running deep

I turned back around and walked back over to the bed and sat down on the chair that was already there.  Outback Jack looked at Susan, then looked at me, and tried to smile.  I grabbed his other hand.

Quote:Bring me something that will let me get to sleep

I leaned forward,

"Thank you so much Outback Jack, for what you did for me all those years ago.  I love you very very much.  I will do whatever I can to repair the faith that you put in me back then, over the years, and right now,"

Outback Jack smiled, and then looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

Quote:In the washing of the water will you take it all away

For what seemed like minutes Outback Jack slept, and then opened his eyes and looked again at me.  It was like he was asking me to if it was okay to go.

"It's okay, Jack, if you want to go, you go,"

As tears poured down my face, and his, he turned and looked at his wife.  She grabbed his hand hard in hers, and she had tears also.

SUSAN: "You want to go, you go.  Be at peace."


Quote:Bring me something to take this pain away
- Peter Gabriel's Washing of the water.

And just like that, he closed his eyes, and he was gone.


MASTERMIND'S LOCKER ROOM

Mastermind is preparing for his match against Grand Pooh Bob Bobby Bourbon and the Bad Medicine Pay Per View is only hours away from starting.  Mastermind has decided to prepare early.

He looks at the camera.

"Run, Bobby.  I want you to run as fast as you can away from here, if you ever think you have the rights to beat me.  So I implore you to run.  Either that or I'll drive you off myself with a barrage of shots that you won't withstand.  But whichever you decide to go, either run or stay, I will make it my business to stop you, once and for all."

He looks away from the camera, and gets up and walks over to the window to see the line of fans waiting to get inside.  He turns back to the camera.

"My instincts say I can and I will beat you, I promise you that.  You may feel you have what it takes to compete on 3 Pay Per Views back to back to back, but your one mistake will be to take me very, very lightly.  I will make sure that will burn you.  Your decison to compete and not take me seriously will be one fatal mistake too many.

"Either I take you down under a lot of noise or by the quietness, I don't give a stuff.  I have pride to uphold, not only for myself, not only for my fans, not only for the Misfits who I represent, but also for a great friend of mind who passed away recently.  This is my time, not yours."

Mastermind stops as if he is struggling to come to terms with the loss of his old friend Outback Jack, his mentor.  But he pulls himself together.

"I will reach out and make sure I get all the strength I need to take you down.

"I can tell you this, that in your eyes you can beat me, but in my eyes, and deep down inside me, I know I can beat you, and I will.  So look into my eyes when that bell rings to start the match, and tell me if you don't see it.  It won't be fear, it will be knowledge that I will take you down once and for all.  I can see myself doing that, yes siree.  Beating you to a pulp.  After all it is an extreme rules match, making it an anything goes match.  Weapon galore.

"Be honest to yourself, be truthful to yourself and to us all, even make a confession.  Taking on 3 PPV's at once is far too much for you, and you are just going to take me lightly.    Going on I implore you.  Make it public.  Don't leave it lying beneath you."


Mastermind smirks his infamous smirk.

"If I were you, and luckily I'm not.  You best take care now, you hear.  I know how much of a poet that you are, All the poetry in the world won't save you from me.  You think you are the greatest?  You think you are the bestest?  You think you are a King or God?  Or a leader of a tired gang of men who can't get what they want at the best of times!  You forget who I am.  I am Mastermind.  I don't stay down without giving it my all.

"I will make sure you feel the pain.  I think you will feel ashamed becaused of that.  The great Bobby Bourbon, the once fat man, and now the skinny political type, will find out what it will be like to underestimate me.

"I can picture myself beating you, and I will Bobby, I will.  Come hell or highwater.  Your first mistake was to not fully focus on me, and that will be your one and only mistake.  The pressure will become too much to handle for you, Bobby.  I know you are under constant pressure.    You don't want to show it, or let people know it, but losing to me will be too much to bare.  But I give you my word, that I will beat you fairly and squarely.    It's all about to end at Bad Medicine Bobby, like a headache for you.  I'll be a thorn in your side that you won't be able to pluck.

"So you better take care Bobby, these last few hours are your last, before you become a laughing stock of your little merry men.  You don't deserve all of this.  Not by taking me so lightly.  I could tell from your first promo, it was all about you.  Your second promo just barely broke even, but alas it'll be all for nothing.

"So your sins are coming back to bite you in the butt.  And I will be the one to take those sins away and beat you like you deserve to be beaten, and then you can go back to your band of merry men, and tell them all the excuses in the world, but we both know where you lost this match.

"You are going to lose this match Bobby Borbon.  Once and for all.  I will guarantee you that.  There's nothing that you can do about it.  You might put up a great fight, but at the end of the day, we all know that it will be night.  It'll be night night, lights out for you.

"So as you look back in your mirrors at what hit you when it's all said and done, be prepared to figure out a way to feel the need for another round, only then you should take that more seriously.  And that's is all I am going to say on the match.  See you soon Grand Pooh Bob."

Mastermind spits at the camera, and turns and walks away.  The camera fades out.]]> <![CDATA[I Should Know Better?! LOL]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45147 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 18:43:37 -0800 ElijahMartin]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45147 You are beautiful on the inside
You are innocence personified
And I will drag you down and sell you out
Run away

I am cold like December snow
I have carved out this soul made of stone
And I will drag you down and sell you out
Embraced by the darkness, I'm losing the light
Encircled by demons, I fight

What have I become, now that I've betrayed
Everyone I've ever loved, I pushed them all away
And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind
Is there something left for me to save
In the wreckage of my life, my life
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind

Oh, this guilt is a heavy cross
There is blood on the path I walk
And each step I take is haunting me
Embraced by the darkness, I'm losing the light
Encircled by demons, I fight

What have I become, now that I've betrayed
Everyone I've ever loved, I pushed them all away
And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind
Is there something left of me to save
In the wreckage of my life, my life
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind

What have I become, now that I've betrayed
Everyone I've ever loved, I pushed them all away
And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind
Is there something left of me to save
In the wreckage of my life, my life
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind


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


I’ve waited about a month for the chance to finally say this - you may think that I have made friends in some pretty low places recently, but my name ain’t Garth Brooks and my new friends aren’t country hicks looking for the next person to make squeal like a piggy in the wilderness. Well… okay maybe they would get joy out of the latter, BUT THEY AIN’T NO COUNTRY HICKS! When I look at Jenny Myst and Chris Chaos, they are a pair of deranged folks that understand me, they have opened their ears and closed their mouths, knowing they were given two ears and one mouth to listen more than they speak.

And sure, you have seen a couple of odd scenarios where they have tested my will and dedication of my allegiance to them, but sometimes you gotta employ a little bit of tough love to see where someone stands. There are people who view the fact I’m wearing this black mask because of the shame I feel for what I have been doing, but it has been quite the contrary. For starters, I got hit in the face by a fucking baseball bat, you fucking idiots! Aside from that, the mask resembles the way I feel like I had to live and walk around the entire time I have been in the XWF - hiding in the darkness, with no one willing to listen to my story. And now that I have found two people finally willing to embrace me for my true self, NONE OF YOU deserve to view me as I was meant to be anymore!

Over recent weeks, all the three of us have done is had Jenny bring home the Xtreme Title twice, Chris Chaos continue to bring Raion Kido to the edge of insanity, and well… I just continue to make my ex feel like she is in a real life version of a horror movie. One step after another has been taken by the three of us, exhibiting tremendous patience and a very cerebral strategy towards becoming one of the most dominant groups in the entire XWF. So while Theo Pryce has allowed himself to be overwhelmed by old friends Bam Miller and Chronic Chris Page, he’s been ignoring the fact that his company is beginning to ROT - every day that his time is preoccupied on something or someone other than Chaos, Myst and myself… the XWF is one day closer to becoming OURS for the taking.

So let’s address the elephant in the room that I briefly referenced a moment ago, which is the frequent torture I have put Lexi Gold through. About four months ago, I had the final conversation of my romantic relationship with Miss Gold. The final decision of going our separate ways was mutually agreed upon, but the original idea came from her. A relationship that had originally formed out of professionalism and me teaching Lexi some tricks of the trade in order to grow as a pro wrestler, I felt like there was still so much more I could teach her. But once she started tasting some success both in the XWF and beyond, the questions and teachable moments were becoming fewer and fewer.

Her wins were building up, the championships were being collected, and yours truly… was being left in the dust. No thanks, no respect, no acknowledgement of my contributions to her success. I was starting to feel as responsible for her accomplishments as her porcelain doll collection or her numerous pet snakes - I was being treated like a complete afterthought. And yet, when I finally gained a small measure of retribution when I invaded her house in Los Angeles over a week ago, everybody and their mother wanted to feel bad for Lexi. For whatever reason, all of you sheep want to believe that Lexi is completely innocent, that she didn’t bring ANY of this upon her, that Lexi is a complete saint who couldn’t have possibly said or done anything to cause my actions.

None of you know the real Lexi Gold obviously - how would you feel if you gave someone everything they could have ever wanted, they began to live an immeasurably better life of happiness and success… but you barely ever received a thank you out of respect for your efforts? I decided to take matters into my own hands, give her a taste of how violated I felt in the closing months of our relationship, how used and abused I was. But now, this is where we get to the good part. She wants “revenge,” while I want recognition - she wants retribution, I want acknowledgment - she seeks vengeance, I plan to receive acceptance. Lexi may believe that this is just one giant misunderstanding and everything will just go away after Bad Medicine, but oh no child… it’s just going to be the end of the beginning. Should I have known better than to get involved with a woman? Maybe. But should Lexi have known better than to try and dispose of me like a piece of garbage? You better fucking believe it, and now… I’m looking to win for keeps.

]]> You are beautiful on the inside
You are innocence personified
And I will drag you down and sell you out
Run away

I am cold like December snow
I have carved out this soul made of stone
And I will drag you down and sell you out
Embraced by the darkness, I'm losing the light
Encircled by demons, I fight

What have I become, now that I've betrayed
Everyone I've ever loved, I pushed them all away
And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind
Is there something left for me to save
In the wreckage of my life, my life
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind

Oh, this guilt is a heavy cross
There is blood on the path I walk
And each step I take is haunting me
Embraced by the darkness, I'm losing the light
Encircled by demons, I fight

What have I become, now that I've betrayed
Everyone I've ever loved, I pushed them all away
And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind
Is there something left of me to save
In the wreckage of my life, my life
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind

What have I become, now that I've betrayed
Everyone I've ever loved, I pushed them all away
And I have been a slave to the Judas in my mind
Is there something left of me to save
In the wreckage of my life, my life
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
I'm becom-, I'm becom-, I'm becoming
Judas in, Judas in my mind
Judas in my mind


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


I’ve waited about a month for the chance to finally say this - you may think that I have made friends in some pretty low places recently, but my name ain’t Garth Brooks and my new friends aren’t country hicks looking for the next person to make squeal like a piggy in the wilderness. Well… okay maybe they would get joy out of the latter, BUT THEY AIN’T NO COUNTRY HICKS! When I look at Jenny Myst and Chris Chaos, they are a pair of deranged folks that understand me, they have opened their ears and closed their mouths, knowing they were given two ears and one mouth to listen more than they speak.

And sure, you have seen a couple of odd scenarios where they have tested my will and dedication of my allegiance to them, but sometimes you gotta employ a little bit of tough love to see where someone stands. There are people who view the fact I’m wearing this black mask because of the shame I feel for what I have been doing, but it has been quite the contrary. For starters, I got hit in the face by a fucking baseball bat, you fucking idiots! Aside from that, the mask resembles the way I feel like I had to live and walk around the entire time I have been in the XWF - hiding in the darkness, with no one willing to listen to my story. And now that I have found two people finally willing to embrace me for my true self, NONE OF YOU deserve to view me as I was meant to be anymore!

Over recent weeks, all the three of us have done is had Jenny bring home the Xtreme Title twice, Chris Chaos continue to bring Raion Kido to the edge of insanity, and well… I just continue to make my ex feel like she is in a real life version of a horror movie. One step after another has been taken by the three of us, exhibiting tremendous patience and a very cerebral strategy towards becoming one of the most dominant groups in the entire XWF. So while Theo Pryce has allowed himself to be overwhelmed by old friends Bam Miller and Chronic Chris Page, he’s been ignoring the fact that his company is beginning to ROT - every day that his time is preoccupied on something or someone other than Chaos, Myst and myself… the XWF is one day closer to becoming OURS for the taking.

So let’s address the elephant in the room that I briefly referenced a moment ago, which is the frequent torture I have put Lexi Gold through. About four months ago, I had the final conversation of my romantic relationship with Miss Gold. The final decision of going our separate ways was mutually agreed upon, but the original idea came from her. A relationship that had originally formed out of professionalism and me teaching Lexi some tricks of the trade in order to grow as a pro wrestler, I felt like there was still so much more I could teach her. But once she started tasting some success both in the XWF and beyond, the questions and teachable moments were becoming fewer and fewer.

Her wins were building up, the championships were being collected, and yours truly… was being left in the dust. No thanks, no respect, no acknowledgement of my contributions to her success. I was starting to feel as responsible for her accomplishments as her porcelain doll collection or her numerous pet snakes - I was being treated like a complete afterthought. And yet, when I finally gained a small measure of retribution when I invaded her house in Los Angeles over a week ago, everybody and their mother wanted to feel bad for Lexi. For whatever reason, all of you sheep want to believe that Lexi is completely innocent, that she didn’t bring ANY of this upon her, that Lexi is a complete saint who couldn’t have possibly said or done anything to cause my actions.

None of you know the real Lexi Gold obviously - how would you feel if you gave someone everything they could have ever wanted, they began to live an immeasurably better life of happiness and success… but you barely ever received a thank you out of respect for your efforts? I decided to take matters into my own hands, give her a taste of how violated I felt in the closing months of our relationship, how used and abused I was. But now, this is where we get to the good part. She wants “revenge,” while I want recognition - she wants retribution, I want acknowledgment - she seeks vengeance, I plan to receive acceptance. Lexi may believe that this is just one giant misunderstanding and everything will just go away after Bad Medicine, but oh no child… it’s just going to be the end of the beginning. Should I have known better than to get involved with a woman? Maybe. But should Lexi have known better than to try and dispose of me like a piece of garbage? You better fucking believe it, and now… I’m looking to win for keeps.

]]> <![CDATA[Beacon of Light]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45146 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 18:28:42 -0800 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45146 Notorious No More 
Pt. 6
Beacon of Light

Previous NNM Entries
Pt.1: A Literal Ned
Pt.2: A Figurative Ned
Pt.3: Humility On Parade
Pt.4: The Adventure of The Gashed Gauntlets
Pt.5: No Way Back



If you destroy the working parts
What you'll get is a broken machine

A beacon of light from a burning screen


October 29th, 2022


8:34 am


A large buzzer sounded as the door unlocked allowing the visitor to finally meet the man within. The prisoner was cuffed to the table, though his demeanor was uncannily casual. At least for that particular man's standards. It was difficult to find any trace of levity in The (former) Custodian of The Chameleon project, Dante Cormack, yet it manifested in certain ways. The visitor took a seat, pleased to finally be rid of the constant surveillance of armed guards. Still, he took the caution of checking over his shoulder to ensure that their business discussion wouldn't be eavesdropped so heavily upon.

“What's the status of your TC-02 initiative?” The Custodian asked, an expression of perhaps curiosity and slight inconvenience covering his face. Mr. Cormack had always been unnecessarily difficult to read, but the visitor assumed that was largely by design. No reason to believe otherwise, to be quite frank.

“It's... not in an ideal state right now,” the visitor responded, avoiding eye contact with the cold glare of the man sitting across him, “we were able to recover a fair bit of the core data, but it's all mapped to TC-01. Unfortunately, with our dwindling funds I haven't been able to get a complete scan of his brain to start reverse engineering everything yet.”

The Custodian's gaze narrowed, his control of the conversation transcending his chains, “Not even following that stunt with the simulated casino?”

“Look,” the visitor replied defensively, “it was a solid plan! Due to that and some helpful consultation, we've got a brain mapping of Kaye-”

“TC-01,” Dante instinctively corrected.

“...ahem, TC-01 at about 75% completion. And that required intercepting those experimental meds for Ms. Ellis' sister.”

“Ah, Ms. Ellis,” Cormack briefly recollected, “what a waste of her talents following that failed experiment around. However, it has culminated in her becoming a valuable asset.”

“What do you mean?” The visitor gulped, knowing what Dante was hinting towards, but attempting to remain in denial. His delusion would not be long-lived.

“You already manipulated TC-01 with her well-being. Perhaps a more... head-on approach is appropriate while you are nearing ever so closer to revitalizing the project.”

The visitor's head dropped, starring at the reflective steel of the table, his own face smeared in the glazed mirror beneath him. He uttered a quiet phrase as he watched his own unrecognizable image.

“God help me...”

Dante was right. He knew Dante was right. But he didn't want to do it like this.

“It is a difficult line of work we find ourselves in,” Dante interrupted, “however we must make these difficult choices. Otherwise, no one else shall. Choose wisely, Custodian.”

The visitor looked up, realizing that he had come too far to throw it all away now. What was a few sins more in the face of a fortune? Of a life never left wanting for his children? Of the completion of this project he had dedicated years to? He took a deep breath and readied himself for the challenge ahead, knowing the only option and accepting whatever damnation came with it.


November 19th, 2022


4:36 pm


It was pitch black as Ned walked in, closing his eyes as he took long, steady breaths. Reluctantly, he placed The Chameleon mask over his head, feeling it unfurl as he pulled it downwards, finally covering his head completely. It was a perfect fit, something that unsettled Ned thoroughly, though he deliberately shoved the thought away as best he could. He was here for Darcy. That was all. Ned Kaye doesn't abandon people. He needed to prove that was the case. He needed it to be true.

In a flash, the lights shot on, somewhat overly blinding at first, but slowly revealing the old Avalanche HQ interior, seeming to be untouched by the garish additions to the complex. He was cautious with each early step, doing his best to try and step around any hidden tricks the people behind this had added. Taking a moment to assess the situation, he called out to whoever was running the PA system.

“Alright, you got me here! Where's Darcy?” Ned called out, his speech somewhat warped by the mask, but not nearly as much as he expected. Suddenly, the ground beneath him started to crumble under his feet. Thinking swiftly, he leaped onto a stable piece of ground, patting himself to reassure his nerves that he had indeed survived. Following this, the intercom system finally answered with a voice eerily familiar to Ned.

“Well, TC-01, you are going to have to wait a little longer for that to be revealed, but I assure you that she is safe, merely further in this facility. You'd better press on.”

It was Dante Cormack's, but... something seemed off. Getting up off of the ground, Ned continued walking forward, doing his best to prepare for another ambush.


The screen showed Ned head further on into the digital recreation of Avalanche HQ, much like the earlier simulation renderings Darcy was used to seeing. She was handcuffed to a terminal, but she was close enough to the equipment to have a good view of the screen and a progress marker labeled at around 87%. Her captor wore a Chameleon mask to hide his face and voice, but she caught a fairly good glimpse of his silhouette as he typed rigorously, making some final adjustments. Perhaps it was being kidnapped or simply her natural snark that caused her to speak up at the strange man.

“You know, as somebody who worked on the real Chameleon project, this is a pretty pathetic recreation.”

Silence from her captor. She tried again to bait him into a response.

“Not one for talking, huh? Well, it's gotta be really embarrassing being the only person brave enough to abduct a gal while being too much of a wuss to talk to her.”

Still nothing.

“I guess I shouldn't mention to Ned when he finds you that the two guys you hired to come get me bailed on you once they realized you could barely pay their fee for that job, huh?”

“Would you please let me concentrate, Darcy?”

There it was.

“I don't see why we need to be pleasant to one another when you only think of me as bait,” she replied sharply to him.

“I assure you that I like this process no more than yourself but putting the simulation chamber at the entrance of the building has expedited this process. Once I have a complete mapping of Kaye's brain, you're free to go. Believe it or not, I actually quite admired your work on this project. Before you got soft, at least.”

“Thanks... I guess?” Ellis did her best to try and formulate some way to get closer to the controls, “I mean, maybe I can show you some of my skills at working on this stuff if you let me try your setup ou-”

“Nice try, Darcy,” the man responded, “but I'm not that stupid, believe it or not.”

She huffed softly, trying her best to think of some way to help Ned. Whatever this guy was planning had to be bad news, so the least she could do was try and assist a little. While she was thinking, a little chime sounded, and the man prepared to leave the room, taking her chance of assisting with her.

“Apologies, Ms. Ellis, but I'm going to have to leave you alone for the time being.”

“Wait!” She shouted, her glasses tumbling onto the floor, giving her an idea, “Can you bring a monitor closer to me? I can't see what's going on at all!”

He twisted to face her, noticing her lack of spectacles, “I could have sworn I told them to bring your glasses with...”

She braced herself slightly, and softly cracked the glasses beneath her foot, doing her best to hide the sound by talking loudly, “Well, then they must be on the floor! At least be a gentleman and pick them up for me!”

He sighed, hesitant, but grabbing a broom and sweeping the glasses from underneath her towards him, only to discover them unusable. Muttering under his breath, he spat out, “I don't have time for this,” before grabbing the laptop showing the main feed and moving it close enough to where she could see it, while barely being in arm's length range, which didn't matter too much due to her restrained hands. Shaking his head in frustration, he left the room. Darcy smirked, finally close enough to the controls before realizing that she could barely make out the keyboard.

Great thinking, Darcy, blind yourself to save the day. Better planning has never been seen before. Round of applause.

After mentally berating herself, she remembered a three key shortcut to induce a lucidity error, something she discovered after one of the first simulations she had seen. Kicking off her shoes and socks, she looked over to the monitor to see the percentage displayed.

92%.

Feet don't fail me now, she thought as she leaned back in her chair, doing her best to try and hit all three keys, struggling due to never having used a keyboard both without looking at it and with her feet prior, she stumbled a bit at first before calming down.

Come on, Darce. You can do this. He needs you to do this.


Ned clutched his side, a slice in his attire stinging. They had placed traps around this place thoroughly and it was only a matter of time before he was going to get caught off guard and get seriously injured or... Kaye shook away the thought and reassessed his position. He knew where he was in the hallway and his old room was just on the left. Gulping, he approached the door carefully, hugging the wall before reaching out a hand and slowly twisting the door handle before flinging the door open, his hand recoiling almost instantaneously as a set of knives flew out the open door, embedding themselves in the wall. He nearly began to step inside before pausing, yanking one of the knives from it's snug spot in the drywall and flinging it in the room, watching as it was crushed under a falling steel mass after cutting a wire on the floor.

Ned exhaled a ton upon the sight, wondering why he left himself get into such a mess. Still, he knew this complex better than them and he knew its secrets. He tiptoed throughout the room, staying light on his feet before getting to the poster he had hidden a room behind. Slipping inside, he could see it hadn't been touched since he last left it, noticing a mirror on the far side of the closest thing he had to a safe room. Unfortunately, the mirror didn't reflect perfectly. He knew this hallucination. He knew the delusion well and had lived it for long enough to know how it would act upon seeing him.

“Hello, Ned. Long time, no see,” The Nefarious One greeted him.

He shook his head, trying to drown out the voice and ignore it. It wasn't real. It never had been.

“Don't you want this bad dream to be over? All you have to do is shake my hand, friend. You've done it before, why not once again for old time's sake?”

“You're just me channeling my emotions in an unhealthy way. There was no deal. I wanted to act poorly, so I did. All you are is me trying to absolve myself of blame from that fact,” Ned responded, his patience already wearing thin.

“Is that your brilliant way of telling me to shut up?”

“No, this is: Shut up.”

“Bold. Didn't expect that behavior from The Notorious Ne-”

“Quiet,” Ned finally looked the reflection in the eye, anger beginning to sear through him, causing the slice to wane in feeling slightly.

“I thought I wasn't real, Ned. Why waste the energy to look?”

Kaye walked over the mirror, sick of the day's constant surprises and threw a fist at the mirror, intending to shatter it and be done with the grim reflection. But his fist didn't break the glass. It traveled right through and collided with The Nefarious One's face. Ned hesitated before it all sank in.

“You're right. You're not real. None of this is. And that means,” Ned grasped his hands around the doppelganger's neck squeezing as hard as he possibly could, causing his fake to smile.

“I seem plenty real to you.”

“You're not. You're just a simulated figment of my brain and I have been meaning to squeeze the life out of you and what you represent for a long, long time.”

“Doesn't that make me real, Ned?” The fake coughed out, “You dislike me because I make the “wrong” choices without a care in the world, or say you say. I think you hate me because you know that deep down, you will make the wrong choice. You want to. It's what we are.”

“You don't have a fucking clue about what I am,” Ned said as the lucidity error took hold, dissipating the simulated world around him, including his injuries. He tore off The Chameleon mask before running to the exit of the simulation chamber that led further into the building, not letting the simulated recreation of his assumed darker persona get in his head. Or at least, trying not to. As he rushed deeper into the makeshift facility, sterile silver walls surrounding him as he looked for any sign of light or life, finally seeing one to his left.


Darcy heard someone rushing around the corner, sighing in relief as the figure ran into the room.

“Boy, are you a sight for sore eye-”

She stopped, her words caught in her throat as she saw her captor in full lighting, The Chameleon mask ripped from his face and an angered expression on his face. Sure, it was blurry, but she recognized the face regardless and his voice was enough to send chills down her spine. Douglas Donohue. Her partner for the TC-01 project.

“What did you just do, Darcy?!” He screamed.

“Dougie...? You have to be-”

“Shut up!” He yelled, tossing the laptop to the floor as he neared her face, “Do you know what you have just cost me?!”

She watched on in a confused horror as it all fell into place, Donohue's head falling in his hands as he screamed from the bottom of his lungs, the percentage stopped at 97%.


Ned looked into the room, expecting to see Darcy, only to see his old friend and therapist Dr. Urias Pheelanruff sitting at a desk, his eyes wide in fear at Kaye's appearance.

“Oh my God, Doc,” Ned said, rushing up to the doctor and giving him a quick check over, trying to make certain he hadn't been harmed, “I didn't know they got you, too!”

“Well-uh-” Urias stammered, his lower lip quivering as he tried his best to obscure the documents sat on the table behind him, knocking them over with his best efforts. Ned glanced down at the document, picking it up as the odd behavior of his friend began to sink in, his eyes quickly fixating to the title of the document.

“Mental Profile of: Ned Kaye. - Dr. Pheelanruff”

Ned looked up to the desk, seeing the monitors and various documents detailing his psychology and its relation to The Chameleon data.

“Doc... please tell me what I'm thinking's wrong,” Ned said desperately, hanging onto hope for another explanation, “Please, Urias, tell me you're not working with the guys who kidnapped Darcy!”

He shouted, tears beginning to well in his eyes as Urias answered sheepishly, looking down in shame.

“You're right, Ned. You're right...”

TO BE CONTINUED



“You and I are superficially similar, Charlie.”

“Alike in ways that seem profound only to those who are trying needlessly to find a connection where none truly exists. We've both taken on different personas, yes. We've both even had our fair share of time on the indies. Hell, we're never count them out kinds of wrestlers. But that's all very flat. What are we made of? What comprises a Charlie Nickles and differentiates him from a Ned Kaye?”

“Well, firstly, I give a hot damn about deserving things. It's why it was the first thing I mentioned the last time I spoke about Nickles. It's why I've been working my ass off before this match because doing right by my allies, friends, and self matters to me. But for Charlie he could really care less. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his interest in facing me was simply because he saw me as an easy victory to pad his title reign. Charlie thinks that way about people because he's incredibly insecure about being that for others. Because every time he's started to get a good run together, he ruins it. And of course he does. He'd rather be a backstage diva than an on-stage talent any day. Charlie would be 10x better to himself and this company if he could just accept a little bit of responsibility for himself, but that's simply never going to happen. As aforementioned, it is always someone else keeping Charlie Nickles down.”

“You wanna know the reason why I'm aware Charlie has that mentality? It's because when I went through my worst moments, I externalized my struggles, too. However, you can't do that forever. I've owned my mistakes as mine and while I'm not proud of them, I'm proud of my regret for it is a reminder that today I am striving to be a better person than yesterday. Charlie is a man without shame. Hell, if he felt it, he would probably liken it to the influence of a sinister jockstrap that holds dominion over his mind because the truth is far more difficult to live with. That Charlie is just a downright shitty human being who pushes away everyone around him and does nothing to confront those demons, instead choosing to forget about them the second he dons a new persona or begins whatever new misadventure he's set on numbing people's brains with this week.”

“And why wouldn't he? Acknowledging his faults isn't macho or cool, it's just a decent thing to do and Nickles hasn't cared about decent since at least his mid-20s and at most birth. For Charlie, the weakest thing anyone could ever do is admit to failing and it's because of his own warped perception on the matter. He doesn't think he has to grow or change or adapt, so he assumes other people doing so is a reflection of their imperfect selves compared to his amazing perfection. The world must be Charlie's to rule over or else it is not a world he wants to live in. Newsflash, buddy: It isn't about you! People have so much more to worry about than your dollar store Thunder Knuckles routine matched with a constant need to implode. The only way you are ever going to be the best in the XWF is if your idiotic fucking behavior cause everyone else to leave and at some level you are fully cognizant of that. That's why I'm going in there to kick your ass. I want you to know that all your whole routine got old the fourth time around and that this federation doesn't need you as some demented jester.”

“You want to be a face of this company? Then do more than win one match, Charlie. Be better. Do better. Or don't. The fact is that no amount of strategy will throw me off, no amount of pestering will break me down. I am kicking your teeth in for a cause and that cause is the XWF, something bigger than you or I. One day, you'll learn that. In fact, I can tell you the day.”

“November 27th, 2022. Bring everything you've got so I can show the world why your way doesn't work. Or half-ass it and act like it's a big plan. Either way, you're not walking into Bad Medicine like a champion, so don't plan walking out of the show as one.”]]> Notorious No More 
Pt. 6
Beacon of Light

Previous NNM Entries
Pt.1: A Literal Ned
Pt.2: A Figurative Ned
Pt.3: Humility On Parade
Pt.4: The Adventure of The Gashed Gauntlets
Pt.5: No Way Back



If you destroy the working parts
What you'll get is a broken machine

A beacon of light from a burning screen


October 29th, 2022


8:34 am


A large buzzer sounded as the door unlocked allowing the visitor to finally meet the man within. The prisoner was cuffed to the table, though his demeanor was uncannily casual. At least for that particular man's standards. It was difficult to find any trace of levity in The (former) Custodian of The Chameleon project, Dante Cormack, yet it manifested in certain ways. The visitor took a seat, pleased to finally be rid of the constant surveillance of armed guards. Still, he took the caution of checking over his shoulder to ensure that their business discussion wouldn't be eavesdropped so heavily upon.

“What's the status of your TC-02 initiative?” The Custodian asked, an expression of perhaps curiosity and slight inconvenience covering his face. Mr. Cormack had always been unnecessarily difficult to read, but the visitor assumed that was largely by design. No reason to believe otherwise, to be quite frank.

“It's... not in an ideal state right now,” the visitor responded, avoiding eye contact with the cold glare of the man sitting across him, “we were able to recover a fair bit of the core data, but it's all mapped to TC-01. Unfortunately, with our dwindling funds I haven't been able to get a complete scan of his brain to start reverse engineering everything yet.”

The Custodian's gaze narrowed, his control of the conversation transcending his chains, “Not even following that stunt with the simulated casino?”

“Look,” the visitor replied defensively, “it was a solid plan! Due to that and some helpful consultation, we've got a brain mapping of Kaye-”

“TC-01,” Dante instinctively corrected.

“...ahem, TC-01 at about 75% completion. And that required intercepting those experimental meds for Ms. Ellis' sister.”

“Ah, Ms. Ellis,” Cormack briefly recollected, “what a waste of her talents following that failed experiment around. However, it has culminated in her becoming a valuable asset.”

“What do you mean?” The visitor gulped, knowing what Dante was hinting towards, but attempting to remain in denial. His delusion would not be long-lived.

“You already manipulated TC-01 with her well-being. Perhaps a more... head-on approach is appropriate while you are nearing ever so closer to revitalizing the project.”

The visitor's head dropped, starring at the reflective steel of the table, his own face smeared in the glazed mirror beneath him. He uttered a quiet phrase as he watched his own unrecognizable image.

“God help me...”

Dante was right. He knew Dante was right. But he didn't want to do it like this.

“It is a difficult line of work we find ourselves in,” Dante interrupted, “however we must make these difficult choices. Otherwise, no one else shall. Choose wisely, Custodian.”

The visitor looked up, realizing that he had come too far to throw it all away now. What was a few sins more in the face of a fortune? Of a life never left wanting for his children? Of the completion of this project he had dedicated years to? He took a deep breath and readied himself for the challenge ahead, knowing the only option and accepting whatever damnation came with it.


November 19th, 2022


4:36 pm


It was pitch black as Ned walked in, closing his eyes as he took long, steady breaths. Reluctantly, he placed The Chameleon mask over his head, feeling it unfurl as he pulled it downwards, finally covering his head completely. It was a perfect fit, something that unsettled Ned thoroughly, though he deliberately shoved the thought away as best he could. He was here for Darcy. That was all. Ned Kaye doesn't abandon people. He needed to prove that was the case. He needed it to be true.

In a flash, the lights shot on, somewhat overly blinding at first, but slowly revealing the old Avalanche HQ interior, seeming to be untouched by the garish additions to the complex. He was cautious with each early step, doing his best to try and step around any hidden tricks the people behind this had added. Taking a moment to assess the situation, he called out to whoever was running the PA system.

“Alright, you got me here! Where's Darcy?” Ned called out, his speech somewhat warped by the mask, but not nearly as much as he expected. Suddenly, the ground beneath him started to crumble under his feet. Thinking swiftly, he leaped onto a stable piece of ground, patting himself to reassure his nerves that he had indeed survived. Following this, the intercom system finally answered with a voice eerily familiar to Ned.

“Well, TC-01, you are going to have to wait a little longer for that to be revealed, but I assure you that she is safe, merely further in this facility. You'd better press on.”

It was Dante Cormack's, but... something seemed off. Getting up off of the ground, Ned continued walking forward, doing his best to prepare for another ambush.


The screen showed Ned head further on into the digital recreation of Avalanche HQ, much like the earlier simulation renderings Darcy was used to seeing. She was handcuffed to a terminal, but she was close enough to the equipment to have a good view of the screen and a progress marker labeled at around 87%. Her captor wore a Chameleon mask to hide his face and voice, but she caught a fairly good glimpse of his silhouette as he typed rigorously, making some final adjustments. Perhaps it was being kidnapped or simply her natural snark that caused her to speak up at the strange man.

“You know, as somebody who worked on the real Chameleon project, this is a pretty pathetic recreation.”

Silence from her captor. She tried again to bait him into a response.

“Not one for talking, huh? Well, it's gotta be really embarrassing being the only person brave enough to abduct a gal while being too much of a wuss to talk to her.”

Still nothing.

“I guess I shouldn't mention to Ned when he finds you that the two guys you hired to come get me bailed on you once they realized you could barely pay their fee for that job, huh?”

“Would you please let me concentrate, Darcy?”

There it was.

“I don't see why we need to be pleasant to one another when you only think of me as bait,” she replied sharply to him.

“I assure you that I like this process no more than yourself but putting the simulation chamber at the entrance of the building has expedited this process. Once I have a complete mapping of Kaye's brain, you're free to go. Believe it or not, I actually quite admired your work on this project. Before you got soft, at least.”

“Thanks... I guess?” Ellis did her best to try and formulate some way to get closer to the controls, “I mean, maybe I can show you some of my skills at working on this stuff if you let me try your setup ou-”

“Nice try, Darcy,” the man responded, “but I'm not that stupid, believe it or not.”

She huffed softly, trying her best to think of some way to help Ned. Whatever this guy was planning had to be bad news, so the least she could do was try and assist a little. While she was thinking, a little chime sounded, and the man prepared to leave the room, taking her chance of assisting with her.

“Apologies, Ms. Ellis, but I'm going to have to leave you alone for the time being.”

“Wait!” She shouted, her glasses tumbling onto the floor, giving her an idea, “Can you bring a monitor closer to me? I can't see what's going on at all!”

He twisted to face her, noticing her lack of spectacles, “I could have sworn I told them to bring your glasses with...”

She braced herself slightly, and softly cracked the glasses beneath her foot, doing her best to hide the sound by talking loudly, “Well, then they must be on the floor! At least be a gentleman and pick them up for me!”

He sighed, hesitant, but grabbing a broom and sweeping the glasses from underneath her towards him, only to discover them unusable. Muttering under his breath, he spat out, “I don't have time for this,” before grabbing the laptop showing the main feed and moving it close enough to where she could see it, while barely being in arm's length range, which didn't matter too much due to her restrained hands. Shaking his head in frustration, he left the room. Darcy smirked, finally close enough to the controls before realizing that she could barely make out the keyboard.

Great thinking, Darcy, blind yourself to save the day. Better planning has never been seen before. Round of applause.

After mentally berating herself, she remembered a three key shortcut to induce a lucidity error, something she discovered after one of the first simulations she had seen. Kicking off her shoes and socks, she looked over to the monitor to see the percentage displayed.

92%.

Feet don't fail me now, she thought as she leaned back in her chair, doing her best to try and hit all three keys, struggling due to never having used a keyboard both without looking at it and with her feet prior, she stumbled a bit at first before calming down.

Come on, Darce. You can do this. He needs you to do this.


Ned clutched his side, a slice in his attire stinging. They had placed traps around this place thoroughly and it was only a matter of time before he was going to get caught off guard and get seriously injured or... Kaye shook away the thought and reassessed his position. He knew where he was in the hallway and his old room was just on the left. Gulping, he approached the door carefully, hugging the wall before reaching out a hand and slowly twisting the door handle before flinging the door open, his hand recoiling almost instantaneously as a set of knives flew out the open door, embedding themselves in the wall. He nearly began to step inside before pausing, yanking one of the knives from it's snug spot in the drywall and flinging it in the room, watching as it was crushed under a falling steel mass after cutting a wire on the floor.

Ned exhaled a ton upon the sight, wondering why he left himself get into such a mess. Still, he knew this complex better than them and he knew its secrets. He tiptoed throughout the room, staying light on his feet before getting to the poster he had hidden a room behind. Slipping inside, he could see it hadn't been touched since he last left it, noticing a mirror on the far side of the closest thing he had to a safe room. Unfortunately, the mirror didn't reflect perfectly. He knew this hallucination. He knew the delusion well and had lived it for long enough to know how it would act upon seeing him.

“Hello, Ned. Long time, no see,” The Nefarious One greeted him.

He shook his head, trying to drown out the voice and ignore it. It wasn't real. It never had been.

“Don't you want this bad dream to be over? All you have to do is shake my hand, friend. You've done it before, why not once again for old time's sake?”

“You're just me channeling my emotions in an unhealthy way. There was no deal. I wanted to act poorly, so I did. All you are is me trying to absolve myself of blame from that fact,” Ned responded, his patience already wearing thin.

“Is that your brilliant way of telling me to shut up?”

“No, this is: Shut up.”

“Bold. Didn't expect that behavior from The Notorious Ne-”

“Quiet,” Ned finally looked the reflection in the eye, anger beginning to sear through him, causing the slice to wane in feeling slightly.

“I thought I wasn't real, Ned. Why waste the energy to look?”

Kaye walked over the mirror, sick of the day's constant surprises and threw a fist at the mirror, intending to shatter it and be done with the grim reflection. But his fist didn't break the glass. It traveled right through and collided with The Nefarious One's face. Ned hesitated before it all sank in.

“You're right. You're not real. None of this is. And that means,” Ned grasped his hands around the doppelganger's neck squeezing as hard as he possibly could, causing his fake to smile.

“I seem plenty real to you.”

“You're not. You're just a simulated figment of my brain and I have been meaning to squeeze the life out of you and what you represent for a long, long time.”

“Doesn't that make me real, Ned?” The fake coughed out, “You dislike me because I make the “wrong” choices without a care in the world, or say you say. I think you hate me because you know that deep down, you will make the wrong choice. You want to. It's what we are.”

“You don't have a fucking clue about what I am,” Ned said as the lucidity error took hold, dissipating the simulated world around him, including his injuries. He tore off The Chameleon mask before running to the exit of the simulation chamber that led further into the building, not letting the simulated recreation of his assumed darker persona get in his head. Or at least, trying not to. As he rushed deeper into the makeshift facility, sterile silver walls surrounding him as he looked for any sign of light or life, finally seeing one to his left.


Darcy heard someone rushing around the corner, sighing in relief as the figure ran into the room.

“Boy, are you a sight for sore eye-”

She stopped, her words caught in her throat as she saw her captor in full lighting, The Chameleon mask ripped from his face and an angered expression on his face. Sure, it was blurry, but she recognized the face regardless and his voice was enough to send chills down her spine. Douglas Donohue. Her partner for the TC-01 project.

“What did you just do, Darcy?!” He screamed.

“Dougie...? You have to be-”

“Shut up!” He yelled, tossing the laptop to the floor as he neared her face, “Do you know what you have just cost me?!”

She watched on in a confused horror as it all fell into place, Donohue's head falling in his hands as he screamed from the bottom of his lungs, the percentage stopped at 97%.


Ned looked into the room, expecting to see Darcy, only to see his old friend and therapist Dr. Urias Pheelanruff sitting at a desk, his eyes wide in fear at Kaye's appearance.

“Oh my God, Doc,” Ned said, rushing up to the doctor and giving him a quick check over, trying to make certain he hadn't been harmed, “I didn't know they got you, too!”

“Well-uh-” Urias stammered, his lower lip quivering as he tried his best to obscure the documents sat on the table behind him, knocking them over with his best efforts. Ned glanced down at the document, picking it up as the odd behavior of his friend began to sink in, his eyes quickly fixating to the title of the document.

“Mental Profile of: Ned Kaye. - Dr. Pheelanruff”

Ned looked up to the desk, seeing the monitors and various documents detailing his psychology and its relation to The Chameleon data.

“Doc... please tell me what I'm thinking's wrong,” Ned said desperately, hanging onto hope for another explanation, “Please, Urias, tell me you're not working with the guys who kidnapped Darcy!”

He shouted, tears beginning to well in his eyes as Urias answered sheepishly, looking down in shame.

“You're right, Ned. You're right...”

TO BE CONTINUED



“You and I are superficially similar, Charlie.”

“Alike in ways that seem profound only to those who are trying needlessly to find a connection where none truly exists. We've both taken on different personas, yes. We've both even had our fair share of time on the indies. Hell, we're never count them out kinds of wrestlers. But that's all very flat. What are we made of? What comprises a Charlie Nickles and differentiates him from a Ned Kaye?”

“Well, firstly, I give a hot damn about deserving things. It's why it was the first thing I mentioned the last time I spoke about Nickles. It's why I've been working my ass off before this match because doing right by my allies, friends, and self matters to me. But for Charlie he could really care less. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his interest in facing me was simply because he saw me as an easy victory to pad his title reign. Charlie thinks that way about people because he's incredibly insecure about being that for others. Because every time he's started to get a good run together, he ruins it. And of course he does. He'd rather be a backstage diva than an on-stage talent any day. Charlie would be 10x better to himself and this company if he could just accept a little bit of responsibility for himself, but that's simply never going to happen. As aforementioned, it is always someone else keeping Charlie Nickles down.”

“You wanna know the reason why I'm aware Charlie has that mentality? It's because when I went through my worst moments, I externalized my struggles, too. However, you can't do that forever. I've owned my mistakes as mine and while I'm not proud of them, I'm proud of my regret for it is a reminder that today I am striving to be a better person than yesterday. Charlie is a man without shame. Hell, if he felt it, he would probably liken it to the influence of a sinister jockstrap that holds dominion over his mind because the truth is far more difficult to live with. That Charlie is just a downright shitty human being who pushes away everyone around him and does nothing to confront those demons, instead choosing to forget about them the second he dons a new persona or begins whatever new misadventure he's set on numbing people's brains with this week.”

“And why wouldn't he? Acknowledging his faults isn't macho or cool, it's just a decent thing to do and Nickles hasn't cared about decent since at least his mid-20s and at most birth. For Charlie, the weakest thing anyone could ever do is admit to failing and it's because of his own warped perception on the matter. He doesn't think he has to grow or change or adapt, so he assumes other people doing so is a reflection of their imperfect selves compared to his amazing perfection. The world must be Charlie's to rule over or else it is not a world he wants to live in. Newsflash, buddy: It isn't about you! People have so much more to worry about than your dollar store Thunder Knuckles routine matched with a constant need to implode. The only way you are ever going to be the best in the XWF is if your idiotic fucking behavior cause everyone else to leave and at some level you are fully cognizant of that. That's why I'm going in there to kick your ass. I want you to know that all your whole routine got old the fourth time around and that this federation doesn't need you as some demented jester.”

“You want to be a face of this company? Then do more than win one match, Charlie. Be better. Do better. Or don't. The fact is that no amount of strategy will throw me off, no amount of pestering will break me down. I am kicking your teeth in for a cause and that cause is the XWF, something bigger than you or I. One day, you'll learn that. In fact, I can tell you the day.”

“November 27th, 2022. Bring everything you've got so I can show the world why your way doesn't work. Or half-ass it and act like it's a big plan. Either way, you're not walking into Bad Medicine like a champion, so don't plan walking out of the show as one.”]]> <![CDATA[Where Everybody Knows Your Name]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45145 Sat, 26 Nov 2022 18:12:16 -0800 Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=45145

Bobby looks down at his phone. He purses his lips.

I guess I’m too much, you know what I mean? I mean, I get it, I really fucking get it, I come on intense, I come on hard, and I keep coming until they break, and it’s the story I live with. This one, shit, what an experience. Men die wishing they dreamed of what I have done, and that’s the story of my life, left alone once the dreams have gone.

Bobby snorts and looks dead at the screen.

Y'know, Mastermind. What mastery is there? Fingerpaints, cheese doodles, and shitty shirts? I saw your last promo, and you were right on two points. One, yes, damn right, I am a fucking badass that destroys fools like you and I know it. It's called self-awareness, you fucking moron. And is this all about me? I didn't show up with TK or any other Bastards, I am coming to Bad Medicine by my damn self, so yeah, sorry if I didn't talk about how awesome my people are. You're still hot fucking garbage regardless. The second thing you were right about? You are definitely going down and choking like a drunk prom date. Pardon me if I forego the corsage.

Bobby shakes his head in disdain.

But saying I don't care about the XWF? Hold up, chump. I am here, I am coming, and I wasn't forced into a damn bit of it. Nobody held a gun to my head and told me I better be at Bad Medicine, no-sirree. I came back to the XWF because while I was gone, lingerie football and weakness ran rampant around here, and you sure as fuck did nothing to contest any of that. How could you? You don't have the wherewithal, the capacity, or the balls to step up and make change where you see fit. I, on the other hand? I didn't just make XWF history, no, I fucking molded and sculpted it, one ass-whooping at a time, and now I am the Grand High PooBOB, the Bastard King. Your king. You seemed absent for a lot of it, and I get it. I was around, that was very scary for you and you just stayed home. Now you're begging the owner of the company to not allow me to compete, which says everything, because as long as I am around you will never shine, because you're talentless and can't live in a world where you aren't the best. You, MM, are the weakness permeating the XWF, so bite your tongue before I rip it out and feed it to puppies.

Bobby smiles.

I have brought and spread the XWF across the universe, MM. Every company outside of this one, I beat ass in ways you could never comprehend, and when they question where I come from or how I learned to entertain the masses by beating all those asses, I let them know I came from the XWF. You know what I don't fucking tell them about? Your worthless ass. I hype Raion Kido, one of the fastest rising stars I have ever seen. I tell everyone about Jenny Myst, Ned Kaye, Flynn, Lux, and the Bing Bong Twins. Bringing you up will raise questions, like "why do you beat up a guy who gets confused by his own socks" or "how come he wrestles". When I tell a joke I'm aware of it, MM, you are a joke and are lost in the weeds thinking you're a contender. Wait, didn't me and TK crush you and Morbid Angel for the tag belts a while back? Have you even sniffed a title opportunity since?

Bobby shakes his head, smirking.

So flat the fuck out, this is the best the XWF has to offer? I have circumvented the multiverse looking for the baddest of the bad, because, well, the XWF ain’t it anymore. Committing criminal enterprise with TK and spreading the word of the Bastard is jolly good fun and well outside the fucking scope of just competing the fuck here, and we ran it to the moon and back into the ground because the tag division and scene here is so depleted even Vinnie and Theo will say it isn’t a focus because while there’s something for everyone, there ain’t enough room for the two of us, and, well, divide and conquer. TK is doing TK, and we’re defending the OCW tag team championships over there so he can get a crack at their top champ, and if you wonder what a top champ is, just envision the Universal Champion, except on a hot seat instead of whatever grace Graves feels like giving over. Yikes. I had challengers when I was holding the Uni, like Finn, not defacto challengers while a fool held a briefcase. We’re also doing shit in a company called IIW where several XWF superstars compete, because we’re not just some insular hellhole held by some dickhead insisting we make him rich, no, I was allowed to not give a fuck about the XWF by my friends, you stupid ass motherfucker, and they are Vinnie and Theo, because I don’t fucking work for people dumber than me, I don’t work for people less than me, I am a fucking member of this here pirate crew until the day I fucking die, and I am the fucking King, and you are just some piece of shit coming to complain and cause yourself worry because I do what you never fucking will. Turncoat? Not giving a rats ass of this here XWF, where I reign? Do I like the XWF even? God damnit, I fucking love her, and I am here because of the honor I hold in being her King, not to grace the fans with my presence, but to find grace in their approval, to find grace in winning, to achieve a high so potent there is no dealer on Earth that could offer what I get by stomping your ass into the curb like you were Velveeta.

Bobby pauses and glares at the camera.

My name is Bobby Motherfucking Bourbon. You’re going to remember that name. You may have avoided it, dodged it, and spat it into the dirt, but for the love of god, here I come, for you, one on one, at fucking last, and you will not survive what I do to you. You want to talk about the end times, about what way it goes out, about your friend dying? Neat. I’ma come to guarantee that from now on, from here on the fuck out, whatever, whenever, or whoever Mastermind talks about, it sure as shit ain’t worth the cotton it gets printed on. The bottom of my bootheels have graced sights better than your face and you better fucking thank me when you feel them. Mastermind, MM, you are a staple of the XWF, I get it, you hung around there for a while, were an asset, just not the type I fucking am by a long shot, but ultimately, were just shit enough to be a turd someone wanted to give a second chance to while not even being worth a piss. A piss! The stuff we all pour into a ceramic bowl a few times a day, so special we need a room for it, and MM isn’t even welcome there.

Bobby points downward so it’s noticeable. I write this shit taking advantage of the fact you’ve watched a person on a screen, and I apologize. So does MM, but he’s garbage.

So Universe, I’ll be blunt. Met a woman, she is more than any of you could ever dare fucking handle, don’t ask my secret. She’s the dopest, period, from this or any era, she has me around her finger. Don’t ask for a definition, because it’s mine and nunya. Don’t ask for details, it’s mine and nunya. Don’t ask about her, it’s mine and nunya, and damn, I have hit up so many motherfuckers so far that this business is no longer mine, and it’s no longer nonya business. I hit up Vinnie. I hit up Charlie. I hit up TK. I confessed my insecurities, generally after I told homegirl, and you know the cool part? She knows how insecure I am better than any of you. She, on the other hand, likes her a conqueror. A monster. A destroyer. I don’t ask what she sees in me. I don’t ask what MM sees in me. I don’t even know entirely what it is I am doing, to be honest, but fuck, when it’s go time, when the shit is hitting the fan, when it’s crunch time, I just get the urge to step the fuck up and crush shit so it gets cool again, and MM, nothing, absolutely nothing, rings in the cool about you. Instead we get melodrama, failure to reconcile personal trauma, a longing for the loins of your mama, leaving you as harmful as a skeleton of a llama. I digress, my lyrical flow is precious and you aren’t worth it.

Bobby snorts.

Face it, fucker, I have brought the word of Xtreme to every company I have ever visited while you have made Xtreme seem like stale horse shit left as fucking beef jerky. Get off, step off, you don’t belong in the ring with me, and holy shitballs, are the people going to see it on Sunday night.

Bobby’s phone goes off, we hear the sound of Owen Wilson saying “wow”. He changed it. He immediately pulls the phone from his pocket and checks it, then his eyes slowly close as his mouth levels, his face coming much more placid. He glances back into the camera.

Gotta go. More important than any wrestling company, she thinks I’m special.

Bobby closes his eyes again.

I will give her and what the people what they deserve.

Suddenly, without warning, contrary to what BOB wishes, contrary to what Mastermind expects, chivalry once again steers Bobby.]]>

Bobby looks down at his phone. He purses his lips.

I guess I’m too much, you know what I mean? I mean, I get it, I really fucking get it, I come on intense, I come on hard, and I keep coming until they break, and it’s the story I live with. This one, shit, what an experience. Men die wishing they dreamed of what I have done, and that’s the story of my life, left alone once the dreams have gone.

Bobby snorts and looks dead at the screen.

Y'know, Mastermind. What mastery is there? Fingerpaints, cheese doodles, and shitty shirts? I saw your last promo, and you were right on two points. One, yes, damn right, I am a fucking badass that destroys fools like you and I know it. It's called self-awareness, you fucking moron. And is this all about me? I didn't show up with TK or any other Bastards, I am coming to Bad Medicine by my damn self, so yeah, sorry if I didn't talk about how awesome my people are. You're still hot fucking garbage regardless. The second thing you were right about? You are definitely going down and choking like a drunk prom date. Pardon me if I forego the corsage.

Bobby shakes his head in disdain.

But saying I don't care about the XWF? Hold up, chump. I am here, I am coming, and I wasn't forced into a damn bit of it. Nobody held a gun to my head and told me I better be at Bad Medicine, no-sirree. I came back to the XWF because while I was gone, lingerie football and weakness ran rampant around here, and you sure as fuck did nothing to contest any of that. How could you? You don't have the wherewithal, the capacity, or the balls to step up and make change where you see fit. I, on the other hand? I didn't just make XWF history, no, I fucking molded and sculpted it, one ass-whooping at a time, and now I am the Grand High PooBOB, the Bastard King. Your king. You seemed absent for a lot of it, and I get it. I was around, that was very scary for you and you just stayed home. Now you're begging the owner of the company to not allow me to compete, which says everything, because as long as I am around you will never shine, because you're talentless and can't live in a world where you aren't the best. You, MM, are the weakness permeating the XWF, so bite your tongue before I rip it out and feed it to puppies.

Bobby smiles.

I have brought and spread the XWF across the universe, MM. Every company outside of this one, I beat ass in ways you could never comprehend, and when they question where I come from or how I learned to entertain the masses by beating all those asses, I let them know I came from the XWF. You know what I don't fucking tell them about? Your worthless ass. I hype Raion Kido, one of the fastest rising stars I have ever seen. I tell everyone about Jenny Myst, Ned Kaye, Flynn, Lux, and the Bing Bong Twins. Bringing you up will raise questions, like "why do you beat up a guy who gets confused by his own socks" or "how come he wrestles". When I tell a joke I'm aware of it, MM, you are a joke and are lost in the weeds thinking you're a contender. Wait, didn't me and TK crush you and Morbid Angel for the tag belts a while back? Have you even sniffed a title opportunity since?

Bobby shakes his head, smirking.

So flat the fuck out, this is the best the XWF has to offer? I have circumvented the multiverse looking for the baddest of the bad, because, well, the XWF ain’t it anymore. Committing criminal enterprise with TK and spreading the word of the Bastard is jolly good fun and well outside the fucking scope of just competing the fuck here, and we ran it to the moon and back into the ground because the tag division and scene here is so depleted even Vinnie and Theo will say it isn’t a focus because while there’s something for everyone, there ain’t enough room for the two of us, and, well, divide and conquer. TK is doing TK, and we’re defending the OCW tag team championships over there so he can get a crack at their top champ, and if you wonder what a top champ is, just envision the Universal Champion, except on a hot seat instead of whatever grace Graves feels like giving over. Yikes. I had challengers when I was holding the Uni, like Finn, not defacto challengers while a fool held a briefcase. We’re also doing shit in a company called IIW where several XWF superstars compete, because we’re not just some insular hellhole held by some dickhead insisting we make him rich, no, I was allowed to not give a fuck about the XWF by my friends, you stupid ass motherfucker, and they are Vinnie and Theo, because I don’t fucking work for people dumber than me, I don’t work for people less than me, I am a fucking member of this here pirate crew until the day I fucking die, and I am the fucking King, and you are just some piece of shit coming to complain and cause yourself worry because I do what you never fucking will. Turncoat? Not giving a rats ass of this here XWF, where I reign? Do I like the XWF even? God damnit, I fucking love her, and I am here because of the honor I hold in being her King, not to grace the fans with my presence, but to find grace in their approval, to find grace in winning, to achieve a high so potent there is no dealer on Earth that could offer what I get by stomping your ass into the curb like you were Velveeta.

Bobby pauses and glares at the camera.

My name is Bobby Motherfucking Bourbon. You’re going to remember that name. You may have avoided it, dodged it, and spat it into the dirt, but for the love of god, here I come, for you, one on one, at fucking last, and you will not survive what I do to you. You want to talk about the end times, about what way it goes out, about your friend dying? Neat. I’ma come to guarantee that from now on, from here on the fuck out, whatever, whenever, or whoever Mastermind talks about, it sure as shit ain’t worth the cotton it gets printed on. The bottom of my bootheels have graced sights better than your face and you better fucking thank me when you feel them. Mastermind, MM, you are a staple of the XWF, I get it, you hung around there for a while, were an asset, just not the type I fucking am by a long shot, but ultimately, were just shit enough to be a turd someone wanted to give a second chance to while not even being worth a piss. A piss! The stuff we all pour into a ceramic bowl a few times a day, so special we need a room for it, and MM isn’t even welcome there.

Bobby points downward so it’s noticeable. I write this shit taking advantage of the fact you’ve watched a person on a screen, and I apologize. So does MM, but he’s garbage.

So Universe, I’ll be blunt. Met a woman, she is more than any of you could ever dare fucking handle, don’t ask my secret. She’s the dopest, period, from this or any era, she has me around her finger. Don’t ask for a definition, because it’s mine and nunya. Don’t ask for details, it’s mine and nunya. Don’t ask about her, it’s mine and nunya, and damn, I have hit up so many motherfuckers so far that this business is no longer mine, and it’s no longer nonya business. I hit up Vinnie. I hit up Charlie. I hit up TK. I confessed my insecurities, generally after I told homegirl, and you know the cool part? She knows how insecure I am better than any of you. She, on the other hand, likes her a conqueror. A monster. A destroyer. I don’t ask what she sees in me. I don’t ask what MM sees in me. I don’t even know entirely what it is I am doing, to be honest, but fuck, when it’s go time, when the shit is hitting the fan, when it’s crunch time, I just get the urge to step the fuck up and crush shit so it gets cool again, and MM, nothing, absolutely nothing, rings in the cool about you. Instead we get melodrama, failure to reconcile personal trauma, a longing for the loins of your mama, leaving you as harmful as a skeleton of a llama. I digress, my lyrical flow is precious and you aren’t worth it.

Bobby snorts.

Face it, fucker, I have brought the word of Xtreme to every company I have ever visited while you have made Xtreme seem like stale horse shit left as fucking beef jerky. Get off, step off, you don’t belong in the ring with me, and holy shitballs, are the people going to see it on Sunday night.

Bobby’s phone goes off, we hear the sound of Owen Wilson saying “wow”. He changed it. He immediately pulls the phone from his pocket and checks it, then his eyes slowly close as his mouth levels, his face coming much more placid. He glances back into the camera.

Gotta go. More important than any wrestling company, she thinks I’m special.

Bobby closes his eyes again.

I will give her and what the people what they deserve.

Suddenly, without warning, contrary to what BOB wishes, contrary to what Mastermind expects, chivalry once again steers Bobby.]]>