<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Leap Of Faith 2023 RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Tue, 05 May 2026 09:18:34 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[My One True Face]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46638 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 23:52:02 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46638 Road to Recovery
Part XII

My One True Face


Step 12. To acknowledge your commitment to others and apply the lessons you've learned going forward.

Several Weeks Ago


The clacking keys adapted a rhythm under Darcy’s touch, a percussion of productivity, but also a sort of boredom. The only beneficial part of working out of office in a hospital was that the beeping and whirring of the various machines added to the various sounds that surrounded her, making for an easier cacophony of sound to drown out. Still, seeing Amelia’s body, clinging to life, but barely qualifying as living held its own power over Darcy Ellis. One that compelled her to be here, just in case she awoke. Just in case she didn’t.

But on this particular day, the unthinkable occurred. Amelia’s eyes opened. Darcy rushed to tell a nurse who then sprinted across the stained tiles to find a doctor. For a passing moment, Darcy was merely relieved, soaking in the good news. But Amelia said something in her half-conscious, waking state of mind that took her off guard.

“Tell Ned… thanks for the $3000. I… I really needed that.”

Darcy tried to convince herself she had heard something else, but she knew otherwise. Silently, she weakly smiled towards Amy, deciding to shut her mouth until a better moment. When she wasn’t surrounded by the stench of illness and decay. When she wasn’t there.


Present Day


A breeze lifted Ned's bangs slightly, his eyes pointed towards the roof of The Notorious Gym. The mahogany brickwork adorning the exterior was normally quite reassuring, but as it loomed over him, a monolith of what lay ahead, it was far more intimidating than ever. He double checked the harness secured around him, trusting the judgment of the man who had placed it on him, but seemingly distrustful of gravity itself. Although he hadn't taken a step upward, he could feel the air seem lighter. His gaze scanned over the cord that reached upward and over the roof, connected to a large crank that wasn't in view from where Ned was standing. He attempted to steady his breathing, feeling the tug of vertigo the second his brother's voice was heard, echoing from above as Nate peeked over the edge.

“Ready?” Nate asked, waiting for some kind of confirmation. Ned gave a silent thumbs up in response, prompting the elder brother begin the process of rotating the crank, the slack of the cord fading as Ned was slowly lifted.

Ned wasn't ready, but he sure as hell wasn't getting readier.

The soles of his shoes softly scraped against the brick, beginning to be stained by the ashy residue, a burnt crimson accruing with every step upwards. He grabbed onto the line, Nate doing his part to keep cranking at a steady pace. The dizzying heights did their best to tug on Ned but he knew how to fend them off. He knew he could prevent anything as long as he put he mind to it. As long as he belie-

Mark killed a man out of vengeance and he wasn't there to prevent it.

Through will and persistence, Ned could conquer any challenge.

Isaiah compromised his fiftieth win. He didn't do it alone.

All he needed was the faith in himself. That he was someone who brought out the good in people.

Daniel sold out their friendship. Lilabeth died pointlessly. He pictured Nancy in that room, inhaling the numbing smoke.

He began to climb slower before ceasing, the ground feeling farther than he knew it to be. But the cranking didn't cease, causing Ned's torso to be lifted awkwardly, nearly smacking his head against the side of the building.

“The hell's going on down there?!” Nate asked, checking only looking to find a near despondent Ned, now adjusted, allowing the harness to carry him as he stared off blankly.

“You're just... quitting?” Nate asked, Ned still unable to answer. Frustratedly, Nathaniel continued cranking the line until Ned was comfortably atop the roof, only assisting to get back onto solid ground. Ned maneuvered out of the harness, the harsh sun overhead beaming down as he took a seat in one of the lawn chairs they had set out for a sort of celebration later. Leaning forward, Ned's arms crossed, attempting to make sense of the chaos taking place within. Nathaniel may have never been an amazing role model or elder sibling, but he could recognize when something was deeply troubling Ned and this one was a doozy. Nate took a seat next to Ned, patiently awaiting a moment to break through.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Nate asked, adding, “Though it wouldn't be worth much by the time we finalized the deal.”

Ned almost snorted as he inhaled through his nostrils, his mind dwelling on Mark's near relapse into viewing himself as a demagogue, Isaiah's wholesale rejection of improvement, and Big D's betrayal for little more than a marketing slogan and a t-shirt.

What did he do wrong that made them choose these patterns of behavior?

Where did he fail?

“Ned,” Nate interjected, sensing he wasn't going to get far unless he pressed further, “are you serious about winning Leap of Faith? Because if you're not, then I don't know why I'm wasting my time out here.”

With a sigh, Ned finally spoke, articulating the nagging gnawing at the back of his mind.

“I've done everything I can to lead by example. I show up more focused and determined on a moment's notice than most people do with weeks of preparation. You need a War Games captain? Sign me up. Bobby Bourbon needs to fight someone in his insane stipulation? I'm there. I do everything I can to try and make up for my mistakes and show that doing things the right way isn't always fun, but it's infinitely more honest and rewarding. And I see so many people capable of being decent, amazing human beings and athletes... and they just don't. I've had two losses the entire year and I have pinned both people who gave them to me within 2023 as well. I've shown that my way doesn't just work but thrives!”

“...but?”

Ned chuckled slightly, fighting back the tears with a shallow laugh, “why doesn't it matter? I care so much about the XWF and the people in it... and just people in general. I don't think about blowing someone up or-”

“Blowing someone off, you mean?”

“No.”

“Oh...

“Oh God.”

“See what I'm dealing with?! I want to give people the benefit of the doubt, but how do I do that when it feels like everyone is just trying to see how far my support will go? I can't just... give up on people.”

Nate shrugged, uncertain exactly what to tell his brother at first until the thought reared its head.

“Giving up on you was the support you needed,” Nate said, causing Ned to tense slightly in shock.

“That was different,” Ned insisted, “I went off the rails and I did longstanding damage to us as a family. That's a reason for a wake-up call. Not just... disappointment.”

“Sometimes you have to make that decision. No one envies it, but need and want are two very different things. Maybe you need to stop leading by example and just start fucking leading. And if that means giving up on the idea that you can save everyone here and now... then maybe that's the sacrifice that needs to be made.”

Ned shook his head, agreeing with much of what his brother proposed, but hung up on one central aspect.

“But is it right?” He asked.

Nate could only find one answer, beginning to prepare their jury rigged climbing for another run.

“You have to believe it is.”


Later That Day


Amy ran a fingertip across one of her nails, feeling the dull edge prod against the callous that however many years of lighter flame assisted in building. Darcy's presence was reassuring, but she was a much colder person compared to Ned. If he was a loyal hound, Darcy was a cat, lacking defined eyebrows, as likely to gut you as she was loyal. Still, while Ned had been busy with something they hadn't disclosed with her yet, Darcy was there, typing away and doing what IT stuff she could remotely. Amelia stared at the computer, a tightness in her chest growing. Today was her last at the hospital. There was no kicking the can down the street any further.

A knock on the door broke the uneasy silence they kept, Darcy's own mind transfixed on what Amy first said when she awoke. As Ned opened the door, the stench of his sweat preceded him. It was his frist time coming to see Amelia after she had regained consciousness.

“Hey,” he said with a hint of brightness, relishing the end to the heavier parts of his day. Despite all of it, Amy was happy to see him. Sure, he was a boyscout, but he was reliable. Through all this, Ned stayed. She silently cursed the thoughts growing in her head.

“Took you long enough,” Amy said dismissively, a reflex not so easily shrugged off, “you'll be a nice change of pace from the “Darcy does nothing all day show” that I've had on.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, “She's just mad I won't let her watch Maury while I work.”

“And how!”

Looking towards Ned with a subtle frown, Darcy motioned with her eyes for them to speak privately. Recognizing the glare immediately, Ned excused himself and Darcy as they walked to the hallway, leaving Amelia alone, save for Darcy's laptop.

Showtime, she thought.


“When she woke up,” Darcy explained quietly over the cacophony of hospital noises surrounding them, “she said something weird.”

“Like what, Darce?” He asked, not entirely certain where she was headed.

Swallowing the discomfort, Darcy forced the words she had been saving for a while now and admitted them, “She told me to thank you for the $3000 you sent during WarGames weekend. But... you didn't send $3000, Ned. You sent her $5000.”

Ned's face fell into his palm as he took the information in. It wasn't the end of the world or anything, but it was another act of distrust from someone close. Another knife wound in his back.

“She duped you. I'm sorry,” Darcy said as she embraced him. He enjoyed her hug, taking some solace in her embrace. Until he looked up.

Right through the window to Amy's room, he saw her moving fast, dragging something from Darcy's laptop and swiftly taking out a flash drive. He couldn't find the words as he silently spun Darcy, who barged into the room without waiting for him. Amy, almost perpetually a cornered animal, tossed the flash drive out the window, seemingly satisfied with where it landed as she backed up towards her bed.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” Darcy screamed, frantically checking over what files might have been taken. Amy stayed quiet as Ned entered, an expression of pure disbelief on his face. Darcy, too angry to speak, lifted her laptop up and stormed out, leaving the sponsor and the recovering addict he vowed to assist alone.

“Why?” He asked.

Amy responded on cue, as if she had danced this way a million times before, “It was just to make things easier! Jeremiah's people were putting pressure on me and the only way I could get out was that!”

“Was what, Amy?”

She held herself by her sides, unwilling to say anything further.

“I trusted you. I gave you a chance and... you take money from me for booze, you steal from Darcy. What would Jeremiah need from-”

He realized it almost instantly.

“The Chameleon data. It was off the street and you just put it back there. Do you know how much of a slap in the face that is to me and her?!” His voice raised, nearly breaking into tears.

“We suffered for that data and you don't care.”

“I'll do better,” she responded, almost beginning to process how bad things were in a panicked state “I-I just need the guidance right?! I just need some time.”

“No,” Ned replied, some tears finally breaking through, “I can't do this.”

“...You're giving up on me?”

He placed the note containing her father's number on the bed, struggling to speak.

“Being around me isn't making you a better person. I can't... make you someone you want to be. I want the best for you, but that doesn't mean getting taken advantage of. If you want better, you'll have to do it yourself.”

Wiping the space under his eyes, Ned walked out of the hospital room.

He didn't look back.




“What we believe in speaks volumes about who we are as people. I believe people can be greater than they are today, even if nothing I do can place them on that path. Belief is as much faith as it is choice. So, what do my opponents believe? What do they plan for the 24/7 briefcase?”

“Dolly Waters has no plan and she never does. She wants greatness, but at no cost. Reward without sacrifice. Sorcery, but a safe kind where the pieces are sold by million dollar companies at Walmart. She is the essential oils of  the XWF: little in the way of utility, but what an affront to the senses. Her use of the 24/7 briefcase would be to try and compensate for the fact that her one true rivalry has always one-sided: Dolly loses to herself every single time and Corey just offers the pin at the end. She believes in what is advantageous to believe and little more.”

“But Jenny doesn't even have that. Her motivation is to get out of the shadow of the man whose loomed over the majority of her career, but she doesn't do anything to pursue that. Jenny has no faith and I don't mean that spiritually, I mean that literally. Who or what has she ever believed in? She spends more time in clown makeup than she ever does even thinking about what motivates her. The 24/7 Briefcase is wasted on her because she's not a real person and she doesn't want to be. Jenny Myst is the result of when your entire life is in the hands of others: you start to forget you have a hand in it. She used to have a talk show. Now she waxes philosophical about using the restroom. That's some sad shit right there.”

“But if Jenny has no faith, Dionysus's is cracked down the middle. And I feel for that. I've stood where he stands, but instead of doing anything about it, he just keeps finding himself in match after unremarkable match, hitting a brick wall and trying everything except having a little trust in himself. A briefcase in the hands of Dionysus is little more than an adornment to a coffee table. A dusty relic he wouldn't muster the courage to use if he even found the strength to lift it off his table.”

“Bobby thinks himself the epitome of strength while attaching himself to a group consistently defined by being a shield for the “leader.” He hides himself behind others and claims bravery. He enables the worst impulses of people and thinks himself the devil. He's big and naturally muscly, so he assumes that makes him powerful. But the thing about Bobby Bourbon is that he flat out doesn't fucking care. Bobby is under the illusion that accepting no clear beliefs makes you not defined by them, but he is defined by the weaknesses he repeatedly tries to safeguard against. He postures as a cruel person because he thinks it makes him look less like a coward. He tries to overlook his loss to me because it hurts his self-image. All Bobby will do with the briefcase is all he ever does: gild the lily. And you've got to be a fool if you think there's any gold about to adorn Bobby in the future.”

“But if Bobby is afraid of his weaknesses, then Isaiah King outright resents his. He obsesses over every fault and flaw he has because he doesn't think he should have them. Because Isaiah sees human beings as little more than a competition where there are correct ways and failed paths. He can't comprehend that one person's road to recovery is another's road to ruin. The only path you have, Isaiah, is one where you sacrifice everything and maybe you get to be a champion. You'd rather be an above-average pro-wrestler instead of a halfway decent man. And you've convinced yourself that pursuing the former made me what I am when the opposite is true. The second I stopped obsessing over being the greatest is the second I shoved your face in the uncomfortable truth of it all: your ideas are why you are failing. It's not me or your body or your spirit. It's the fact that you can't admit to yourself that the street you're headed down, the one you've bought into, is a dead end and you've got buyer's remorse. The briefcase to you is just a way to put that realization off a little farther.”

“My opponents all know this about themselves, but what they don't comprehend is that their approach is one of fear. Name me one other person who would announce their cash-in before hand. Name me one other competitor willing to fail doing the right thing than succeed doing something shady. They're afraid they're not enough, that they can't cut it. They're afraid of the weight of the crown they are desperate to hold. They are afraid of Corey Smith. Leap of Faith is when all of it is revealed. When all we have is our ideals and our belief to take us that extra step. I'm not afraid.”

“I'm not afraid of Corey Smith because I'm not afraid of Ned Kaye.”

“But all five of you should be. Believe me.”]]> Road to Recovery
Part XII

My One True Face


Step 12. To acknowledge your commitment to others and apply the lessons you've learned going forward.

Several Weeks Ago


The clacking keys adapted a rhythm under Darcy’s touch, a percussion of productivity, but also a sort of boredom. The only beneficial part of working out of office in a hospital was that the beeping and whirring of the various machines added to the various sounds that surrounded her, making for an easier cacophony of sound to drown out. Still, seeing Amelia’s body, clinging to life, but barely qualifying as living held its own power over Darcy Ellis. One that compelled her to be here, just in case she awoke. Just in case she didn’t.

But on this particular day, the unthinkable occurred. Amelia’s eyes opened. Darcy rushed to tell a nurse who then sprinted across the stained tiles to find a doctor. For a passing moment, Darcy was merely relieved, soaking in the good news. But Amelia said something in her half-conscious, waking state of mind that took her off guard.

“Tell Ned… thanks for the $3000. I… I really needed that.”

Darcy tried to convince herself she had heard something else, but she knew otherwise. Silently, she weakly smiled towards Amy, deciding to shut her mouth until a better moment. When she wasn’t surrounded by the stench of illness and decay. When she wasn’t there.


Present Day


A breeze lifted Ned's bangs slightly, his eyes pointed towards the roof of The Notorious Gym. The mahogany brickwork adorning the exterior was normally quite reassuring, but as it loomed over him, a monolith of what lay ahead, it was far more intimidating than ever. He double checked the harness secured around him, trusting the judgment of the man who had placed it on him, but seemingly distrustful of gravity itself. Although he hadn't taken a step upward, he could feel the air seem lighter. His gaze scanned over the cord that reached upward and over the roof, connected to a large crank that wasn't in view from where Ned was standing. He attempted to steady his breathing, feeling the tug of vertigo the second his brother's voice was heard, echoing from above as Nate peeked over the edge.

“Ready?” Nate asked, waiting for some kind of confirmation. Ned gave a silent thumbs up in response, prompting the elder brother begin the process of rotating the crank, the slack of the cord fading as Ned was slowly lifted.

Ned wasn't ready, but he sure as hell wasn't getting readier.

The soles of his shoes softly scraped against the brick, beginning to be stained by the ashy residue, a burnt crimson accruing with every step upwards. He grabbed onto the line, Nate doing his part to keep cranking at a steady pace. The dizzying heights did their best to tug on Ned but he knew how to fend them off. He knew he could prevent anything as long as he put he mind to it. As long as he belie-

Mark killed a man out of vengeance and he wasn't there to prevent it.

Through will and persistence, Ned could conquer any challenge.

Isaiah compromised his fiftieth win. He didn't do it alone.

All he needed was the faith in himself. That he was someone who brought out the good in people.

Daniel sold out their friendship. Lilabeth died pointlessly. He pictured Nancy in that room, inhaling the numbing smoke.

He began to climb slower before ceasing, the ground feeling farther than he knew it to be. But the cranking didn't cease, causing Ned's torso to be lifted awkwardly, nearly smacking his head against the side of the building.

“The hell's going on down there?!” Nate asked, checking only looking to find a near despondent Ned, now adjusted, allowing the harness to carry him as he stared off blankly.

“You're just... quitting?” Nate asked, Ned still unable to answer. Frustratedly, Nathaniel continued cranking the line until Ned was comfortably atop the roof, only assisting to get back onto solid ground. Ned maneuvered out of the harness, the harsh sun overhead beaming down as he took a seat in one of the lawn chairs they had set out for a sort of celebration later. Leaning forward, Ned's arms crossed, attempting to make sense of the chaos taking place within. Nathaniel may have never been an amazing role model or elder sibling, but he could recognize when something was deeply troubling Ned and this one was a doozy. Nate took a seat next to Ned, patiently awaiting a moment to break through.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Nate asked, adding, “Though it wouldn't be worth much by the time we finalized the deal.”

Ned almost snorted as he inhaled through his nostrils, his mind dwelling on Mark's near relapse into viewing himself as a demagogue, Isaiah's wholesale rejection of improvement, and Big D's betrayal for little more than a marketing slogan and a t-shirt.

What did he do wrong that made them choose these patterns of behavior?

Where did he fail?

“Ned,” Nate interjected, sensing he wasn't going to get far unless he pressed further, “are you serious about winning Leap of Faith? Because if you're not, then I don't know why I'm wasting my time out here.”

With a sigh, Ned finally spoke, articulating the nagging gnawing at the back of his mind.

“I've done everything I can to lead by example. I show up more focused and determined on a moment's notice than most people do with weeks of preparation. You need a War Games captain? Sign me up. Bobby Bourbon needs to fight someone in his insane stipulation? I'm there. I do everything I can to try and make up for my mistakes and show that doing things the right way isn't always fun, but it's infinitely more honest and rewarding. And I see so many people capable of being decent, amazing human beings and athletes... and they just don't. I've had two losses the entire year and I have pinned both people who gave them to me within 2023 as well. I've shown that my way doesn't just work but thrives!”

“...but?”

Ned chuckled slightly, fighting back the tears with a shallow laugh, “why doesn't it matter? I care so much about the XWF and the people in it... and just people in general. I don't think about blowing someone up or-”

“Blowing someone off, you mean?”

“No.”

“Oh...

“Oh God.”

“See what I'm dealing with?! I want to give people the benefit of the doubt, but how do I do that when it feels like everyone is just trying to see how far my support will go? I can't just... give up on people.”

Nate shrugged, uncertain exactly what to tell his brother at first until the thought reared its head.

“Giving up on you was the support you needed,” Nate said, causing Ned to tense slightly in shock.

“That was different,” Ned insisted, “I went off the rails and I did longstanding damage to us as a family. That's a reason for a wake-up call. Not just... disappointment.”

“Sometimes you have to make that decision. No one envies it, but need and want are two very different things. Maybe you need to stop leading by example and just start fucking leading. And if that means giving up on the idea that you can save everyone here and now... then maybe that's the sacrifice that needs to be made.”

Ned shook his head, agreeing with much of what his brother proposed, but hung up on one central aspect.

“But is it right?” He asked.

Nate could only find one answer, beginning to prepare their jury rigged climbing for another run.

“You have to believe it is.”


Later That Day


Amy ran a fingertip across one of her nails, feeling the dull edge prod against the callous that however many years of lighter flame assisted in building. Darcy's presence was reassuring, but she was a much colder person compared to Ned. If he was a loyal hound, Darcy was a cat, lacking defined eyebrows, as likely to gut you as she was loyal. Still, while Ned had been busy with something they hadn't disclosed with her yet, Darcy was there, typing away and doing what IT stuff she could remotely. Amelia stared at the computer, a tightness in her chest growing. Today was her last at the hospital. There was no kicking the can down the street any further.

A knock on the door broke the uneasy silence they kept, Darcy's own mind transfixed on what Amy first said when she awoke. As Ned opened the door, the stench of his sweat preceded him. It was his frist time coming to see Amelia after she had regained consciousness.

“Hey,” he said with a hint of brightness, relishing the end to the heavier parts of his day. Despite all of it, Amy was happy to see him. Sure, he was a boyscout, but he was reliable. Through all this, Ned stayed. She silently cursed the thoughts growing in her head.

“Took you long enough,” Amy said dismissively, a reflex not so easily shrugged off, “you'll be a nice change of pace from the “Darcy does nothing all day show” that I've had on.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, “She's just mad I won't let her watch Maury while I work.”

“And how!”

Looking towards Ned with a subtle frown, Darcy motioned with her eyes for them to speak privately. Recognizing the glare immediately, Ned excused himself and Darcy as they walked to the hallway, leaving Amelia alone, save for Darcy's laptop.

Showtime, she thought.


“When she woke up,” Darcy explained quietly over the cacophony of hospital noises surrounding them, “she said something weird.”

“Like what, Darce?” He asked, not entirely certain where she was headed.

Swallowing the discomfort, Darcy forced the words she had been saving for a while now and admitted them, “She told me to thank you for the $3000 you sent during WarGames weekend. But... you didn't send $3000, Ned. You sent her $5000.”

Ned's face fell into his palm as he took the information in. It wasn't the end of the world or anything, but it was another act of distrust from someone close. Another knife wound in his back.

“She duped you. I'm sorry,” Darcy said as she embraced him. He enjoyed her hug, taking some solace in her embrace. Until he looked up.

Right through the window to Amy's room, he saw her moving fast, dragging something from Darcy's laptop and swiftly taking out a flash drive. He couldn't find the words as he silently spun Darcy, who barged into the room without waiting for him. Amy, almost perpetually a cornered animal, tossed the flash drive out the window, seemingly satisfied with where it landed as she backed up towards her bed.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” Darcy screamed, frantically checking over what files might have been taken. Amy stayed quiet as Ned entered, an expression of pure disbelief on his face. Darcy, too angry to speak, lifted her laptop up and stormed out, leaving the sponsor and the recovering addict he vowed to assist alone.

“Why?” He asked.

Amy responded on cue, as if she had danced this way a million times before, “It was just to make things easier! Jeremiah's people were putting pressure on me and the only way I could get out was that!”

“Was what, Amy?”

She held herself by her sides, unwilling to say anything further.

“I trusted you. I gave you a chance and... you take money from me for booze, you steal from Darcy. What would Jeremiah need from-”

He realized it almost instantly.

“The Chameleon data. It was off the street and you just put it back there. Do you know how much of a slap in the face that is to me and her?!” His voice raised, nearly breaking into tears.

“We suffered for that data and you don't care.”

“I'll do better,” she responded, almost beginning to process how bad things were in a panicked state “I-I just need the guidance right?! I just need some time.”

“No,” Ned replied, some tears finally breaking through, “I can't do this.”

“...You're giving up on me?”

He placed the note containing her father's number on the bed, struggling to speak.

“Being around me isn't making you a better person. I can't... make you someone you want to be. I want the best for you, but that doesn't mean getting taken advantage of. If you want better, you'll have to do it yourself.”

Wiping the space under his eyes, Ned walked out of the hospital room.

He didn't look back.




“What we believe in speaks volumes about who we are as people. I believe people can be greater than they are today, even if nothing I do can place them on that path. Belief is as much faith as it is choice. So, what do my opponents believe? What do they plan for the 24/7 briefcase?”

“Dolly Waters has no plan and she never does. She wants greatness, but at no cost. Reward without sacrifice. Sorcery, but a safe kind where the pieces are sold by million dollar companies at Walmart. She is the essential oils of  the XWF: little in the way of utility, but what an affront to the senses. Her use of the 24/7 briefcase would be to try and compensate for the fact that her one true rivalry has always one-sided: Dolly loses to herself every single time and Corey just offers the pin at the end. She believes in what is advantageous to believe and little more.”

“But Jenny doesn't even have that. Her motivation is to get out of the shadow of the man whose loomed over the majority of her career, but she doesn't do anything to pursue that. Jenny has no faith and I don't mean that spiritually, I mean that literally. Who or what has she ever believed in? She spends more time in clown makeup than she ever does even thinking about what motivates her. The 24/7 Briefcase is wasted on her because she's not a real person and she doesn't want to be. Jenny Myst is the result of when your entire life is in the hands of others: you start to forget you have a hand in it. She used to have a talk show. Now she waxes philosophical about using the restroom. That's some sad shit right there.”

“But if Jenny has no faith, Dionysus's is cracked down the middle. And I feel for that. I've stood where he stands, but instead of doing anything about it, he just keeps finding himself in match after unremarkable match, hitting a brick wall and trying everything except having a little trust in himself. A briefcase in the hands of Dionysus is little more than an adornment to a coffee table. A dusty relic he wouldn't muster the courage to use if he even found the strength to lift it off his table.”

“Bobby thinks himself the epitome of strength while attaching himself to a group consistently defined by being a shield for the “leader.” He hides himself behind others and claims bravery. He enables the worst impulses of people and thinks himself the devil. He's big and naturally muscly, so he assumes that makes him powerful. But the thing about Bobby Bourbon is that he flat out doesn't fucking care. Bobby is under the illusion that accepting no clear beliefs makes you not defined by them, but he is defined by the weaknesses he repeatedly tries to safeguard against. He postures as a cruel person because he thinks it makes him look less like a coward. He tries to overlook his loss to me because it hurts his self-image. All Bobby will do with the briefcase is all he ever does: gild the lily. And you've got to be a fool if you think there's any gold about to adorn Bobby in the future.”

“But if Bobby is afraid of his weaknesses, then Isaiah King outright resents his. He obsesses over every fault and flaw he has because he doesn't think he should have them. Because Isaiah sees human beings as little more than a competition where there are correct ways and failed paths. He can't comprehend that one person's road to recovery is another's road to ruin. The only path you have, Isaiah, is one where you sacrifice everything and maybe you get to be a champion. You'd rather be an above-average pro-wrestler instead of a halfway decent man. And you've convinced yourself that pursuing the former made me what I am when the opposite is true. The second I stopped obsessing over being the greatest is the second I shoved your face in the uncomfortable truth of it all: your ideas are why you are failing. It's not me or your body or your spirit. It's the fact that you can't admit to yourself that the street you're headed down, the one you've bought into, is a dead end and you've got buyer's remorse. The briefcase to you is just a way to put that realization off a little farther.”

“My opponents all know this about themselves, but what they don't comprehend is that their approach is one of fear. Name me one other person who would announce their cash-in before hand. Name me one other competitor willing to fail doing the right thing than succeed doing something shady. They're afraid they're not enough, that they can't cut it. They're afraid of the weight of the crown they are desperate to hold. They are afraid of Corey Smith. Leap of Faith is when all of it is revealed. When all we have is our ideals and our belief to take us that extra step. I'm not afraid.”

“I'm not afraid of Corey Smith because I'm not afraid of Ned Kaye.”

“But all five of you should be. Believe me.”]]> <![CDATA[The Final Leap pt. 2 {Trigger Warning AGAIN}]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46639 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 23:44:00 -0700 Jenny Myst]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46639 Each beat of the heart bolts after the another, carelessly bashing through in a massive disarray of doubt and regret, for realization is only of your attention once it is too late.

Too late to think.

I will never accomplish what I want with fear holding me back. Why did I wait so long?

Too late to listen.

I never received any signs against it. Why did I feel so nervous?

Too late to stop.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Why am I doing this?
Jenny felt the wind rush through her hair as she catapulted towards the earth at a frightening speed. She felt free in that moment. Like it was her decision, finally. Like she had broken chains of some sort. There had been many people who asked, pleaded even, for her not to jump.

She didn't jump, she stepped, she thought with a giggle.

As free as she felt hurtling towards the earth like a comet in deep space, she had some internal conflict too. Why was the only question that came to mind. Why did she make this choice? Why did she come back to XWF? Why did she start wrestling at all? Why does she care so much?

Heart beat increasing, wheels turning to comprehend the situation with fists softening and a smile now spreading.
There was no anxiety now;

She had accepted her fate. A slight carelessness. Next she could feel was the negative euphoria, the consequence of stumbling down the balcony. Heart thumping as if it would bombard veins to bloody mess. Lungs swollen up like over-filled balloon. Body went stiff. Bones pinched the muscles.

Catastrophe. Nothing else could define her thud on the ground. A fatal landing enough to shut down the reels of life. Colourful to dark and nothingness, the fall was a snapshot.

"OOOH, a crepe spot!"

This would be it, surely. A choice she made on her own. A decision she was pushed to, but in the end, a choice she made.

She thought about a lot as she fell. She thought about how great the business was--or she thought it was--back in 2016. The lights, the glory, the headlines. Even the travel. The hotels, the road trips and the stories. The laughs, the tears, the little table with the even little-er girl selling girl scout cookies outside Wal-Mart somewhere in Arkansas. She had forgotten to pack tampons and had to run and get some before the show. Why not have a cookie? A box would be nice. Periods and chocolate--anyway. They didn't have the flavor she wanted----she remembered flipping the table over. Cookies went everywhere. She felt terrible for that poor girl. If she had the chance she would apologize to her and help her pick up the cookies.

How long had she been falling for anyway? SURELY this should be ended by now?

A quick google search in her hotel last night--by the way French internet is WAY faster than American internet...get your shit together Spectrum--

From 400 feet high, it would take about 5 seconds to hit the ground.

From 110 feet, the fall-to-destination would be about 3 seconds.

The arc was 176 feet...........

That would mean.......

Why was she trying to do math?

All of the good memories that flooded through her were replaced by horror and regret. There was so much left to do!

She felt something slam into her back. Fear jolted through him as his legs hit the safety ledge and she pitched forward. Heart leaping, she tried to bend around to grip anything. She only managed to flip herself around as air whistled in her ears and the ground rushed up. The grooves in the concrete and the curb became flash vivid in her view, as one question flicked through her brain. Why?

The muted screams of various people sails past her ears.

Maybe this was symbolic? As successful as she was, she was on a downward trend.



Even Rome fell.


She had been on the rise and this was the consequence. It was inevitable. But so soon! Why so soon!

Silence. 
"So what was it like?" 

"It was the best moment of my life, and my career." 

The voice on the other line had pain in it. It was raspy. There was something else there, too. Excitement, angst, nostalgia.....regret?

"Do you remember it? How do you feel about it now, all these years later?"

"It was a gift and a curse. I won that belt far too early. I wasn't ready. I was having sex before I had hair on my balls, if that makes sense. I was in the deep end but only a beginner swimmer."

She couldn't believe her ears. The most arrogant man on the planet was showing human emotions for the first time since she had known him. 

"But you, you have earned this. You have been through the trenches. You have taken the brand we built all those years ago and blasted off to astronomical proportions. You have taken it much further than I could have. You took this and you made it your own." 

She wanted to blush but tried to suppress it. 

"If I could do back and do it all again, I wouldn't have won that belt when I did. I wouldn't have made some of the decisions I did, associated with some of the people I did, said some of the things I said. If I could go back now I would have done it the way you have. Built it up, battled everyone with a pulse, and gotten myself better. My issue, I thought I was better than I was. You? You have proven you're exactly as good as you say you are."

She wanted to blush again, and this time couldn't control it. 

"Eight years, Jen. Eight years you have been the embodiment of perfection here. It hasn't always went your way but when I look at it now, I would rather have your career.....I would rather have the titles you have had then the one I did. I didn't earn it, I got lucky........You're far beyond luck. You have surpassed every peak I could have ever dreamed of even reaching. This is your night, but dont make the same mistake I did. Don't take it for granted. The entire world is against you here....use that."

"So what should I do exactly?"

There was a pause on the other line........before the raspy, tired, suddenly stone cold voice answered. 

"Fuck them. Win."
“I really don’t know how to feel. I thought I did. My emotions have been a seesaw over the past half year. Part of me wanted to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness, saying that I have seen the error of my ways. Part of me wanted to tell all of you how much you have meant to me during my time here, part of me wanted to do the patented Reno rage quit, part of me just wanted to break down and cry, to be honest. I have never known any other place than this for almost a decade until recently. As refreshing as it is to face some new competition and kick down new doors, change is scary. I mean just ask Dionysus. Changing into being a halfway decent wrestler was too much to handle. Poor guy. For real though, this is hard for me.

For years I have been trying to break the toxic sludge that has encased me in a cocoon of ‘almost’. I am one of the most decorated champions who hasn’t thrown up a finger and left this place in the rearview. I am one of the top all time here, even if they will never give me that recognition. I guess I can take solace in that.

I can’t help but feeling empty inside, though. I can’t help but feel incomplete. I can’t help but feel like a Dolly Waters title reign, disjointed and disappointed. There is something missing for me, and I am confident that I will never rest until I fill that gap. I will never fully feel whole. You can throw all the TV Titles and X-titles you have at me, throw them until your arm is tired, and I will gladly hold them, rock them, and make them relevant. But it wont make ME feel complete. There is ONE title that I have never held and haven’t been within a football field distance of since Obama was still in office.

The Universal Title.

Even the name gives me goosebumps.

Since I am on the honesty tour, I may as well keep the bus rolling along. The XWF is boring. I am bored. I can come out here, cut a promo and shred someone, and step into the ring and give ANYONE on this roster the fight of their life. Yes, anyone. But it is the same thing over and over again, and our Universal Title has been as bland as drywall. Mark Flynn was good, very good, but he lost his fucking mind towards the end. Raion Kido is the dictionary definition of printer paper. Does Sidney Grey even count? And now Corey is the mild sauce we are forced to put on our tacos.

What about a little chaos at the top? A little disorder? A little….fun.

This is far from a campaign speech. It’s different from venting. It’s just me telling you all how I feel. Bobby seems to think that I expect to just be handed things wrapped in some fancy glitter paper. If that was the case, I would have been gone years ago. I knew from day one that I would have to earn every inch of ground, especially being associated with the name CHAOS, and it has been perpetual trench warfare since day one. If I expected things to be handed to me I would have been gone after the 10th screw job. Here I am after a number too high for Neil deGrasse Tyson to count to. The harshest thing you had to say about me was my involvement in the conspiracy to make this place fun again. Yes, Sarah approached me. Yes, I accepted Sarah is fun and creative. Raion Kido is a tired anime schtick that lasted far too long. I did it for the betterment of the fed, but none of you seem to see it that way.

Fuck it, I’ll stay the villain just like Bobby will stay the same overbearing douche who only tries when there is something on the line for him.

Wait, isn’t that what he accused me of?

(If you’ve done your homework like I assigned, you’d be over the appropriate BAC to operate a motor vehicle.)

If I didn’t feel weird enough, all Isaih did was compliment me. I mean, that’s flattering and all, but kinda defeats the purpose of this whole little back and forth, yeah? I am sorry Mr. King, but the Queen will always be better on the mic, in the ring, and at life than you. The only thing you were wrong about in your praise of me was that I screw off after every “undeserved” loss. Again, as I previously mentioned, if that were the case I would have been gone before you could blink an eye. Nice job at a shot, but like most of your insults (and match results), you fell just a bit short.

Ned had some kind words, too. Thanks Ned. If you weren’t so off base in your accusations I would actually applaud you. Instead, you get a golf clap, and a half-assed one. I HAVE SPENT THE LAST FIVE YEARS TRYING TO BREAK AWAY FROM THE CHAOS LIKENESS YOU HALF-WIT MOTHERFUC—-”

Deep breaths.

“Sorry. It just annoys me that NOBODY has a creative insult anymore. They just keep recycling the same tired nonsense like the soundtrack in a grocery store until something gets stuck in our head for long enough to believe it. Ned is taking the same shots as everyone else, and just like everyone else, he is missing the target. You can talk about my weird moments all you want, but one thing you conveniently never mentioned was how I held this company down, carried it on my back like a goddamn koala, while you sat around doing fuckall. Where was Ned Kaye to step up and challenge me for my X-Title? Instead I was stuck with Goth, King, Goth, King again, throw in Xavier Lux and Maddy, then insert Goth again. If you’re such a hero NED, I ask you, where is your cape? You love to yell from the shadows, but not get down and dirty. You’re the one who will yell “HOLD ON, I AM GETTING YOU HELP!” from the side of the cruise ship to someone overboard, but completely overlook the fact that the rescue rings sit two feet in front of your dumb fucking face and—--god I hate you. You’re such a shameless suckass. Throw insults at me when you do the EXACT SAME—you know what…..not worth it.”

Deep breaths again.

“Dolly didn’t even bother to show up. If this meant a fraction as much to Dolly as it does to me, she would have at least popped in and said hi. That’s always been her issue. She is everyone’s favorite darling, but could give a fuck less about the advancement of this company. She’ll work her ass off to beat a mid-carder on Warfare but arguably the biggest match of her career and not a fucking peep from the peanut gallery. I have given my blood, sweat and tears for this place. I have had to seek out therapy for this place. I have had to change my identity, delete my social media accounts, and publicly declare the fragile state of my mental health for this place. You can’t even be bothered to try when you have the entire place eating out of your palm and all you need to do is sneeze to get promo of the month…………..you’re a fucking embarrassment. I expected better. Silly me.

So, I guess with all of that being said, I better get back on topic. This could very well be my last match here. My heart just can’t take any more. I love this place and I will always love this place, but sometimes, when you love something, you need to let it go. The only thing left for me is to hoist that title over my head and tell you all that I told you so. That is the only thing that will keep me here. I realize that I need to earn it, I need to win this match, but there is no guarantee that will happen. In fact, there is a good chance I won’t. You can never predict these type of matches–too many moving parts.

So if this is it, I want to say thank you to everyone who has supported me and thank you even louder to those who hated me. That hate is what drove me to keep trying to prove you all wrong. If this is my last match it’s been real. I will always have a place in my heart for XWF, even if they have cast me aside long ago.

If I win this match, and I put a cap on my legacy, well then I guess I’ll see you guys around—and I’ll be 20 pounds heavier.”

"Mademoiselle Myst..."

Jenny pushed her hand away, groaning.

"Mademoiselle Myst...Réveillez-vous!"

"English please" Jenny muttered.

"Wake up."

"Go away."

"Mademoiselle Myst......you must wake up." Her accent was thick, and it made Jenny shoot her eyes open. She was in Paris.

"You have promo to do, scheduled in 20 minutes, and it is all the way across the city!"

"How did I get here?!" She asked the clearly annoyed front desk attendant. "I was standing on top of the big square thingy and I could see your pointy tower in the distance! Then, I stepped off and I was falling towards the ground at breakneck speed and landed on a crepe machine and---"

The woman was not impressed, and she took her hands off her hips with a sigh.

"Mademoiselle, you fell asleep in the hotel lobby."

Jenny jumped up, fixing herself.

"I have a crepe to finish!" ]]> Each beat of the heart bolts after the another, carelessly bashing through in a massive disarray of doubt and regret, for realization is only of your attention once it is too late.

Too late to think.

I will never accomplish what I want with fear holding me back. Why did I wait so long?

Too late to listen.

I never received any signs against it. Why did I feel so nervous?

Too late to stop.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Why am I doing this?
Jenny felt the wind rush through her hair as she catapulted towards the earth at a frightening speed. She felt free in that moment. Like it was her decision, finally. Like she had broken chains of some sort. There had been many people who asked, pleaded even, for her not to jump.

She didn't jump, she stepped, she thought with a giggle.

As free as she felt hurtling towards the earth like a comet in deep space, she had some internal conflict too. Why was the only question that came to mind. Why did she make this choice? Why did she come back to XWF? Why did she start wrestling at all? Why does she care so much?

Heart beat increasing, wheels turning to comprehend the situation with fists softening and a smile now spreading.
There was no anxiety now;

She had accepted her fate. A slight carelessness. Next she could feel was the negative euphoria, the consequence of stumbling down the balcony. Heart thumping as if it would bombard veins to bloody mess. Lungs swollen up like over-filled balloon. Body went stiff. Bones pinched the muscles.

Catastrophe. Nothing else could define her thud on the ground. A fatal landing enough to shut down the reels of life. Colourful to dark and nothingness, the fall was a snapshot.

"OOOH, a crepe spot!"

This would be it, surely. A choice she made on her own. A decision she was pushed to, but in the end, a choice she made.

She thought about a lot as she fell. She thought about how great the business was--or she thought it was--back in 2016. The lights, the glory, the headlines. Even the travel. The hotels, the road trips and the stories. The laughs, the tears, the little table with the even little-er girl selling girl scout cookies outside Wal-Mart somewhere in Arkansas. She had forgotten to pack tampons and had to run and get some before the show. Why not have a cookie? A box would be nice. Periods and chocolate--anyway. They didn't have the flavor she wanted----she remembered flipping the table over. Cookies went everywhere. She felt terrible for that poor girl. If she had the chance she would apologize to her and help her pick up the cookies.

How long had she been falling for anyway? SURELY this should be ended by now?

A quick google search in her hotel last night--by the way French internet is WAY faster than American internet...get your shit together Spectrum--

From 400 feet high, it would take about 5 seconds to hit the ground.

From 110 feet, the fall-to-destination would be about 3 seconds.

The arc was 176 feet...........

That would mean.......

Why was she trying to do math?

All of the good memories that flooded through her were replaced by horror and regret. There was so much left to do!

She felt something slam into her back. Fear jolted through him as his legs hit the safety ledge and she pitched forward. Heart leaping, she tried to bend around to grip anything. She only managed to flip herself around as air whistled in her ears and the ground rushed up. The grooves in the concrete and the curb became flash vivid in her view, as one question flicked through her brain. Why?

The muted screams of various people sails past her ears.

Maybe this was symbolic? As successful as she was, she was on a downward trend.



Even Rome fell.


She had been on the rise and this was the consequence. It was inevitable. But so soon! Why so soon!

Silence. 
"So what was it like?" 

"It was the best moment of my life, and my career." 

The voice on the other line had pain in it. It was raspy. There was something else there, too. Excitement, angst, nostalgia.....regret?

"Do you remember it? How do you feel about it now, all these years later?"

"It was a gift and a curse. I won that belt far too early. I wasn't ready. I was having sex before I had hair on my balls, if that makes sense. I was in the deep end but only a beginner swimmer."

She couldn't believe her ears. The most arrogant man on the planet was showing human emotions for the first time since she had known him. 

"But you, you have earned this. You have been through the trenches. You have taken the brand we built all those years ago and blasted off to astronomical proportions. You have taken it much further than I could have. You took this and you made it your own." 

She wanted to blush but tried to suppress it. 

"If I could do back and do it all again, I wouldn't have won that belt when I did. I wouldn't have made some of the decisions I did, associated with some of the people I did, said some of the things I said. If I could go back now I would have done it the way you have. Built it up, battled everyone with a pulse, and gotten myself better. My issue, I thought I was better than I was. You? You have proven you're exactly as good as you say you are."

She wanted to blush again, and this time couldn't control it. 

"Eight years, Jen. Eight years you have been the embodiment of perfection here. It hasn't always went your way but when I look at it now, I would rather have your career.....I would rather have the titles you have had then the one I did. I didn't earn it, I got lucky........You're far beyond luck. You have surpassed every peak I could have ever dreamed of even reaching. This is your night, but dont make the same mistake I did. Don't take it for granted. The entire world is against you here....use that."

"So what should I do exactly?"

There was a pause on the other line........before the raspy, tired, suddenly stone cold voice answered. 

"Fuck them. Win."
“I really don’t know how to feel. I thought I did. My emotions have been a seesaw over the past half year. Part of me wanted to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness, saying that I have seen the error of my ways. Part of me wanted to tell all of you how much you have meant to me during my time here, part of me wanted to do the patented Reno rage quit, part of me just wanted to break down and cry, to be honest. I have never known any other place than this for almost a decade until recently. As refreshing as it is to face some new competition and kick down new doors, change is scary. I mean just ask Dionysus. Changing into being a halfway decent wrestler was too much to handle. Poor guy. For real though, this is hard for me.

For years I have been trying to break the toxic sludge that has encased me in a cocoon of ‘almost’. I am one of the most decorated champions who hasn’t thrown up a finger and left this place in the rearview. I am one of the top all time here, even if they will never give me that recognition. I guess I can take solace in that.

I can’t help but feeling empty inside, though. I can’t help but feel incomplete. I can’t help but feel like a Dolly Waters title reign, disjointed and disappointed. There is something missing for me, and I am confident that I will never rest until I fill that gap. I will never fully feel whole. You can throw all the TV Titles and X-titles you have at me, throw them until your arm is tired, and I will gladly hold them, rock them, and make them relevant. But it wont make ME feel complete. There is ONE title that I have never held and haven’t been within a football field distance of since Obama was still in office.

The Universal Title.

Even the name gives me goosebumps.

Since I am on the honesty tour, I may as well keep the bus rolling along. The XWF is boring. I am bored. I can come out here, cut a promo and shred someone, and step into the ring and give ANYONE on this roster the fight of their life. Yes, anyone. But it is the same thing over and over again, and our Universal Title has been as bland as drywall. Mark Flynn was good, very good, but he lost his fucking mind towards the end. Raion Kido is the dictionary definition of printer paper. Does Sidney Grey even count? And now Corey is the mild sauce we are forced to put on our tacos.

What about a little chaos at the top? A little disorder? A little….fun.

This is far from a campaign speech. It’s different from venting. It’s just me telling you all how I feel. Bobby seems to think that I expect to just be handed things wrapped in some fancy glitter paper. If that was the case, I would have been gone years ago. I knew from day one that I would have to earn every inch of ground, especially being associated with the name CHAOS, and it has been perpetual trench warfare since day one. If I expected things to be handed to me I would have been gone after the 10th screw job. Here I am after a number too high for Neil deGrasse Tyson to count to. The harshest thing you had to say about me was my involvement in the conspiracy to make this place fun again. Yes, Sarah approached me. Yes, I accepted Sarah is fun and creative. Raion Kido is a tired anime schtick that lasted far too long. I did it for the betterment of the fed, but none of you seem to see it that way.

Fuck it, I’ll stay the villain just like Bobby will stay the same overbearing douche who only tries when there is something on the line for him.

Wait, isn’t that what he accused me of?

(If you’ve done your homework like I assigned, you’d be over the appropriate BAC to operate a motor vehicle.)

If I didn’t feel weird enough, all Isaih did was compliment me. I mean, that’s flattering and all, but kinda defeats the purpose of this whole little back and forth, yeah? I am sorry Mr. King, but the Queen will always be better on the mic, in the ring, and at life than you. The only thing you were wrong about in your praise of me was that I screw off after every “undeserved” loss. Again, as I previously mentioned, if that were the case I would have been gone before you could blink an eye. Nice job at a shot, but like most of your insults (and match results), you fell just a bit short.

Ned had some kind words, too. Thanks Ned. If you weren’t so off base in your accusations I would actually applaud you. Instead, you get a golf clap, and a half-assed one. I HAVE SPENT THE LAST FIVE YEARS TRYING TO BREAK AWAY FROM THE CHAOS LIKENESS YOU HALF-WIT MOTHERFUC—-”

Deep breaths.

“Sorry. It just annoys me that NOBODY has a creative insult anymore. They just keep recycling the same tired nonsense like the soundtrack in a grocery store until something gets stuck in our head for long enough to believe it. Ned is taking the same shots as everyone else, and just like everyone else, he is missing the target. You can talk about my weird moments all you want, but one thing you conveniently never mentioned was how I held this company down, carried it on my back like a goddamn koala, while you sat around doing fuckall. Where was Ned Kaye to step up and challenge me for my X-Title? Instead I was stuck with Goth, King, Goth, King again, throw in Xavier Lux and Maddy, then insert Goth again. If you’re such a hero NED, I ask you, where is your cape? You love to yell from the shadows, but not get down and dirty. You’re the one who will yell “HOLD ON, I AM GETTING YOU HELP!” from the side of the cruise ship to someone overboard, but completely overlook the fact that the rescue rings sit two feet in front of your dumb fucking face and—--god I hate you. You’re such a shameless suckass. Throw insults at me when you do the EXACT SAME—you know what…..not worth it.”

Deep breaths again.

“Dolly didn’t even bother to show up. If this meant a fraction as much to Dolly as it does to me, she would have at least popped in and said hi. That’s always been her issue. She is everyone’s favorite darling, but could give a fuck less about the advancement of this company. She’ll work her ass off to beat a mid-carder on Warfare but arguably the biggest match of her career and not a fucking peep from the peanut gallery. I have given my blood, sweat and tears for this place. I have had to seek out therapy for this place. I have had to change my identity, delete my social media accounts, and publicly declare the fragile state of my mental health for this place. You can’t even be bothered to try when you have the entire place eating out of your palm and all you need to do is sneeze to get promo of the month…………..you’re a fucking embarrassment. I expected better. Silly me.

So, I guess with all of that being said, I better get back on topic. This could very well be my last match here. My heart just can’t take any more. I love this place and I will always love this place, but sometimes, when you love something, you need to let it go. The only thing left for me is to hoist that title over my head and tell you all that I told you so. That is the only thing that will keep me here. I realize that I need to earn it, I need to win this match, but there is no guarantee that will happen. In fact, there is a good chance I won’t. You can never predict these type of matches–too many moving parts.

So if this is it, I want to say thank you to everyone who has supported me and thank you even louder to those who hated me. That hate is what drove me to keep trying to prove you all wrong. If this is my last match it’s been real. I will always have a place in my heart for XWF, even if they have cast me aside long ago.

If I win this match, and I put a cap on my legacy, well then I guess I’ll see you guys around—and I’ll be 20 pounds heavier.”

"Mademoiselle Myst..."

Jenny pushed her hand away, groaning.

"Mademoiselle Myst...Réveillez-vous!"

"English please" Jenny muttered.

"Wake up."

"Go away."

"Mademoiselle Myst......you must wake up." Her accent was thick, and it made Jenny shoot her eyes open. She was in Paris.

"You have promo to do, scheduled in 20 minutes, and it is all the way across the city!"

"How did I get here?!" She asked the clearly annoyed front desk attendant. "I was standing on top of the big square thingy and I could see your pointy tower in the distance! Then, I stepped off and I was falling towards the ground at breakneck speed and landed on a crepe machine and---"

The woman was not impressed, and she took her hands off her hips with a sigh.

"Mademoiselle, you fell asleep in the hotel lobby."

Jenny jumped up, fixing herself.

"I have a crepe to finish!" ]]> <![CDATA[Connecting the dots]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46637 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 23:39:25 -0700 Angelica Vaughn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46637 Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
A few days before Leap of Faith
Flying private wasn’t so bad. Angelica had never felt at ease in ‘smaller’ airplanes, but the leg room certainly beat that of flying coach. Her great-grandfather had insisted he take the company jet after having invited her over to his Upper Midwest apartment for some rather startling revelations.

Angelica had mulled them over ceaselessly ever since. Obviously the fact that he was dying was terrible; even though they had never been particularly close. But that made the fact he wanted her to be his sole heir all the more… intriguing? Angelica wasn’t sure if that was the right word. ‘Exciting’ was another that had crossed her mind, but she felt horrible for even entertaining that one. ‘Intimidating’ was probably the best word.

There was some part of her, a big part of her in fact, that had simply wanted to say ‘no, thank you’. The responsibilities that would be dumped on her shoulders would be immense, and she wasn’t sure if she would be ready for them. She had enough on her mind as it was, and on top of that, she had always been adamant about making her own name. Heck, that was the whole reason why she had kept the Vaughn name to begin with, even if it was nothing more than a corruption of her ‘fake’ father’s real last name. It was also the reason why she had refused to take on the Lacklan name when, in fact, that should’ve been her birthname (with all the birthrights that came with it).

But then again, hadn’t she already done that? Wasn’t the fact she had built her own name and brand the exact reason why her great-grandfather wanted to leave her everything, rather than his son or granddaughter. Was this not a direct consequence of everything she had worked for? After all, Thomas Hightower hardly seemed like a man who would leave his own family anything just for the sake of it. He was clearly not that sentimental.

Angelica groaned. She didn’t want to be thinking about this, as she had other stuff on her mind. Defending the TV Championship should be at the forefront of her mind, and she would be in for a rude awakening if it wasn’t. B.O.B. D had made it very clear exactly what he thought of her; and while it didn’t make an awful lot of sense, she was going to be on the receiving end of a Dan Slam if she didn’t keep her focus. So now would be a good time to address a few things.

[Image: dNzoMKD.jpg]

”Hello and howdy-ho, my Vaughnstars! Coming to you from a height of around 35,000 feet, which is more than the usual 5’11, it’s me! The TV Champion! I’m on my way to Paris, and I wish I could go and see some sights like the Notre Dame, the Louvre and the Mona Lisa, the Eiffel Tower and the steps of Montmartre. But unfortunately, it’s all beeswax on this trip.

Beeswax against the D’s wax… Wait, no, ew that sounds SO wrong. Never mind! You all know who I’m talking about, as I’m sure you’ve all seen and read his exploits as of late. Firstly, attacking poor old Ned. Now, I don’t have anything against Ned, although his fanbase is extremely corrupt, if you know you know, and I don’t think many people do. He’s an easy target if you want some cheap heat, which made him ideal for what you’re seemingly trying to do.

And what you’re trying to do, is become the mayor of Edgeville, edging your way in the edgiest of edge-ploits. Careful not to cut yourself, sir! I guess that’s what joining B.O.B. does to a man, huh? You are trying so hard to be what B.O.B. wants you to be that you seemingly are willing to forsake all that truly matters in this world. I’ll never understand why people do that. See, when I joined the #CoolKids back in the day, I knew I was the odd one out. I love Sar, Kenz and Rox but especially back then we weren’t exactly… alike. We shared some traits, sure, but they were meaner than I was, badder than I was, more ferocious than I was… And yet, they never demanded I stopped being kind or caring or anything that made me who I was. I was my own person, with all my flaws, and never did they ask me to partake in anything that went against my wishes or would compromise who I am.

Seems to me like you’re running away from what, or who, you hold most dear in some kind of desperate attempt at finding acceptance and affirmation from a group of misfits who won’t give two cents for your life when push comes to shove. Fairweather friends don’t last, Dan… You don’t mind that I call you Dan, I hope, it seems weird to use your ‘ring name’ in this case. Fairweather friends will throw you under the bus like you did with Ned. They will use you for as long as you’re useful and cut the cord when you cease to be. Thing is, I think you actually know that, which makes your actions all the weirder. What is it you’re looking for? What are you trying to achieve? What is your motivation here? I’m struggling to  come up with an answer that makes sense, beyond the stereotypical ‘wrestler wants to dominate all life’ as if you’re some fantasy or comic book villain.

So now we’ve seen you going around, partaking in petty crimes just for the sake of it, like a 9 year old stealing sweets from a candy store to impress his older buddies. Dear oh dear. It’s quite pitiful. Would be comical if it were satirical or ironic. But you’re AXLY serious. I think you can do better, Dan. And I hope you don’t interpret that as ‘you can do bigger crimes’.

Know what else can do better? The TV title! After all, you went on a tirade describing it as a memento of mediocrity, but that seems like projection. After all, that’s all you’ve ever managed to turn it into. I don’t see this title as ‘low-tier’, I see it as the single hardest title of cosequence to defend in the entire company – and this will be my third defense of it. A TV Champion is always being hunted, and the hunter changes face every single week. Even on PPV events, they are forced to defend this title, which is the only reason I did not sign up for the Leap of Faith match right away. I’m just putting that out there, seeing as you accused me of ‘settling’ for a TV title defense, when in fact my only crime here is not being the head booker of the XWF. An odd thing to lay at a person’s feet, but go off.

Of course, I know this match isn’t a gimme by any stretch of the imagination. Our little game of Connect Four will be fun, but violent. After all, the only way to win this is by incapacitating your opponent so badly you have enough time to connect the four pieces on the board. Some could say it’s even harder than a Last Man Standing match. You and I will have to beat the baby Jesus out of one another in order to win, so in spite of its playful appearance, this one is going to be brutal. And it’s going to take more than one #Vaughnemous to your head in order to win. And don’t worry, I won’t cheat by using handcuffs or anything. Did I mention those are forbidden? I’m sure I did.

N-E-Ways, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t take this lightly, and I don’t take *you* lightly. I didn’t take Dionysus, Noah or Alex lightly, and I’m glad I didn’t, or I would not be sitting here today, holding the TV Championship. And I don’t intend to part with it any time soon, either. You make a compelling case when you say that you want B.O.B.  to dominate the XWF from the top down to the bottom, as its previous iteration did. But your friends can’t help you in this upcoming match, Dan. There is no strength in numbers for you here. There will be no shortcuts for you here. There will only be you, me, a board of CONNECT FOUR, and the arena, which will become our playground. As the TV Champion, I’ve given the XWF fans something they’ve never seen before with every show. A cook-off match, a one-count to the finish Cell match, and now a connect 4 match. There is a lot more where that came from, a lot more ideas that I have cooking inside of my brainbox. It’s honestly half the fun of getting to carry this title. Not so I can twist things in my favor, but so I can make sure the fans have the most entertaining night imaginable.

And if not for the fans, who do we do it for, eh? At least, that’s what I think. So see you out there, Dan. A bientôt!"

[Image: AgHN3c0.png]

A few days later…
At a café in the Quartier Latin

The past few days had been little more than grueling workouts, match prep and film study. It was the first time Angelica had allowed herself a moment of respite, and what better way to relax than breakfast with a Croque Madame, an omelette, croissant, and French Toast? She also really wanted a pain au chocolat but that would be too much, even for what was a bit of a cheat meal.

Yes, her prep for this match had been good. She hadn’t slacked off, had stayed focused and was confident of her game plan. And yet, she had a lot of other things on her mind. Throughout the week she had tried to ignore them, but the closer Leap of Faith came, the more she realized it would be in her best interest to purge those other thoughts by addressing them. Only that way would her mind be clear enough to give the Connect Four match all the attention it warranted. She hadn’t told her mother about the business with her great-grandfather yet. She was scared about how she would react. Disappointed? Angry? It was clear that Angie’s mom wasn’t held in high esteem by her own grandfather.

Still, she felt a bit guilty for not trusting her. And that would have to change. Angelica took her tablet from her phone and set it up on the table. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon sight around here, so she wasn’t too worried she’d be disturbing the other patrons, especially since she was going to be wearing Bluetooth earbuds during the call. The only gamble was that her mother might have gone to bed already, given the hour difference. But as the videocall went through, it didn’t take Mary Vaughn a long time to answer. While she hadn’t gone to bed yet, it was clear she had planned to do so sooner rather than later. Her hair was loose, her makeup was gone and she was wearing modest nighttime attire.

"Hey there, sweetie. What’s up?"

”Hey, mom. Hope you’re doing well. Sorry for calling this early… Well, I mean, late. There’s just… something I wanted to talk to you about?"

Angelica didn’t know why she posed that as a question, but it probably was because she was still hesitant whether this was the right call or not. For now, she sidetracked the main topic of the conversation.

”So, how’s things in Maine? Pop-pop and the rest behaving okay?"

Mary let out something that resembled both a sigh and a groan.

"Uugghhhhh, I suppose so? They’re keeping to themselves for now, but the Lacklanlanders are NOT pleased with their presence. A few of them have tried to go into town, but that didn’t end well. Please come back as soon as you can after Leap of Faith. WITH that TV title, preferably, of course."

”Obvs. Wait, they didn’t get into fights or anything, did they?"

"It’s probably something you’ll have to see for yourself once you get here, sweetie."

”Ah yes. Show, don’t tell. Gotcha."

"Pretty much. But it’s nothing to worry about. Although I wouldn’t test Aveline’s patience for much longer. I’m guessing that’s the only reason why she hasn’t given her people the order to drive them off yet. For now though, just focus on doing what you gotta do over there. I have to say, I’m kind of jealous. I hear Paris is lovely this time of year."

”Totes! Although I’ve mostly been training. This is the first time I’ve gone into the city and allowed myself to unwind a bit. I really wanna win this one, mom. It means a lot. If I do, I’ll have gone undefeated all of July and have racked up three consecutive title defenses. Consistency is key, you know. And perfection is a lot of little things done well. Two things to strive for. Buuuuttt… That’s not the exact reason why I called."

"Oh?"

So Angelica told her. How she’d been intercepted by her great-grandfather’s bodyguards, how they had taken her to  his apartment right next to Central Park, and how he had stated his intent of making her the heir of his fortune, and business shares. Mary remained rather stoic throughout Angelica’s explanation. It worried Angelica, since her mom had become a lot more expressive ever since Richard Vaughn had disappeared from their lives. When Angelica was finished, the silence was… deafening. Mary had averted her eyes from the camera, and seemed deep in thought. But right now, all Angelica wanted to hear was a reaction.

”…mom? Say something? Please? I could really use your guidance, here. I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve been wanting to tell you this for days, but I wasn’t sure how you would react, so… Please?"

Mary eventually looked back into the camera and at her daughter’s face.

"Sweetie… Your great-grandfather is a spiteful man who has never put his family first. I always assumed he wanted nothing to do with any of us because of our life’s choices. For all the blame he likes to put on your grandfather for not living up to his standards, I think he has also made mistakes. You see, Angie, he was a young parent. Your father was a young parent. I certainly was a young parent. At your current age, all of us had children already. But I don’t think any one of us were ready for it. Your great-grandfather just left college and was building his firm, having no time for his child. No wonder your pop-pop ended up resenting that life… it had taken his father away from him.

Of course, that lax attitude ensured he would have me when in truth, he wasn’t ready for it either. Him and your grandma were living that hippie lifestyle, which I grew up in. The boundaries he had rebelled against were completely lacking. But maybe boundaries were exactly what I needed, and I wouldn’t have ended up running off. I was young, too young, when I met your father, but I was so enamored I thought little of the consequences. But in the end, all of those mistakes were for the best, because every decision led to *you*, sweetheart. And I wouldn’t change any of those things.
And… he’s right about you. You are smart and responsible, no matter what anyone might say. You’ve carved out a place for yourself in history, and every risk you’ve taken has been a measured one. But don’t be mistaken, sweetie. This *is* a risk you’re taking. If you inherit his money and infrastructure, you will take on the legacy of someone who had to be ruthless and cold to maintain what he had built. And I do not want you to turn into that."

”I… understand. Temptation is the devil’s work, eh? But then again, when I found out who my dad was, it didn’t change me either. And the Lacklan legacy weighs heavily on my shoulders as well, although I’ve never let that change who I was. In fact, I told my Leap of Faith opponent something similar. He is willing to change who he is, willing to run away from love and happiness, because he has deluded himself into thinking he has to be something, or someone, else. I will never do that, whether I accept his offer or not…"

A pause fell… Eventually, Angelica asked another question.

"How do you think pop-pop and gangy will react? After all, they should be first in line to inherit, right?"

”Your grandfather has never wanted his father’s money, and like I said, he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with his firm. I think he’d be relieved, if anything…"

Another silence fell. This time, it was Mary who broke it with a question.

"…how did the dem-… I mean, how did Sarah react to this news?"

”…I haven’t told her yet."

"You may be surprised to hear this coming from my mouth, but she deserves to know. Are you scared of how she will react, too?"

”…no? …yes? …Eye Dee Kay. But you’re right, I shouldn’t keep this from her. Bad stuff happened the last time I hid a secret from her for too long. As soon as I’m back in Maine I’m having dinner with her to explain everything. Promise!"

"Good."

Angelica felt relieved. She knew where she stood with her mother. For now, that was enough. It hadn’t brought her much closer to a final decision, but it had given her the peace of mind she was looking for. With that out of the way, she was ready. For Leap of Faith. And for all B.O.B. had to offer.]]> Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
A few days before Leap of Faith
Flying private wasn’t so bad. Angelica had never felt at ease in ‘smaller’ airplanes, but the leg room certainly beat that of flying coach. Her great-grandfather had insisted he take the company jet after having invited her over to his Upper Midwest apartment for some rather startling revelations.

Angelica had mulled them over ceaselessly ever since. Obviously the fact that he was dying was terrible; even though they had never been particularly close. But that made the fact he wanted her to be his sole heir all the more… intriguing? Angelica wasn’t sure if that was the right word. ‘Exciting’ was another that had crossed her mind, but she felt horrible for even entertaining that one. ‘Intimidating’ was probably the best word.

There was some part of her, a big part of her in fact, that had simply wanted to say ‘no, thank you’. The responsibilities that would be dumped on her shoulders would be immense, and she wasn’t sure if she would be ready for them. She had enough on her mind as it was, and on top of that, she had always been adamant about making her own name. Heck, that was the whole reason why she had kept the Vaughn name to begin with, even if it was nothing more than a corruption of her ‘fake’ father’s real last name. It was also the reason why she had refused to take on the Lacklan name when, in fact, that should’ve been her birthname (with all the birthrights that came with it).

But then again, hadn’t she already done that? Wasn’t the fact she had built her own name and brand the exact reason why her great-grandfather wanted to leave her everything, rather than his son or granddaughter. Was this not a direct consequence of everything she had worked for? After all, Thomas Hightower hardly seemed like a man who would leave his own family anything just for the sake of it. He was clearly not that sentimental.

Angelica groaned. She didn’t want to be thinking about this, as she had other stuff on her mind. Defending the TV Championship should be at the forefront of her mind, and she would be in for a rude awakening if it wasn’t. B.O.B. D had made it very clear exactly what he thought of her; and while it didn’t make an awful lot of sense, she was going to be on the receiving end of a Dan Slam if she didn’t keep her focus. So now would be a good time to address a few things.

[Image: dNzoMKD.jpg]

”Hello and howdy-ho, my Vaughnstars! Coming to you from a height of around 35,000 feet, which is more than the usual 5’11, it’s me! The TV Champion! I’m on my way to Paris, and I wish I could go and see some sights like the Notre Dame, the Louvre and the Mona Lisa, the Eiffel Tower and the steps of Montmartre. But unfortunately, it’s all beeswax on this trip.

Beeswax against the D’s wax… Wait, no, ew that sounds SO wrong. Never mind! You all know who I’m talking about, as I’m sure you’ve all seen and read his exploits as of late. Firstly, attacking poor old Ned. Now, I don’t have anything against Ned, although his fanbase is extremely corrupt, if you know you know, and I don’t think many people do. He’s an easy target if you want some cheap heat, which made him ideal for what you’re seemingly trying to do.

And what you’re trying to do, is become the mayor of Edgeville, edging your way in the edgiest of edge-ploits. Careful not to cut yourself, sir! I guess that’s what joining B.O.B. does to a man, huh? You are trying so hard to be what B.O.B. wants you to be that you seemingly are willing to forsake all that truly matters in this world. I’ll never understand why people do that. See, when I joined the #CoolKids back in the day, I knew I was the odd one out. I love Sar, Kenz and Rox but especially back then we weren’t exactly… alike. We shared some traits, sure, but they were meaner than I was, badder than I was, more ferocious than I was… And yet, they never demanded I stopped being kind or caring or anything that made me who I was. I was my own person, with all my flaws, and never did they ask me to partake in anything that went against my wishes or would compromise who I am.

Seems to me like you’re running away from what, or who, you hold most dear in some kind of desperate attempt at finding acceptance and affirmation from a group of misfits who won’t give two cents for your life when push comes to shove. Fairweather friends don’t last, Dan… You don’t mind that I call you Dan, I hope, it seems weird to use your ‘ring name’ in this case. Fairweather friends will throw you under the bus like you did with Ned. They will use you for as long as you’re useful and cut the cord when you cease to be. Thing is, I think you actually know that, which makes your actions all the weirder. What is it you’re looking for? What are you trying to achieve? What is your motivation here? I’m struggling to  come up with an answer that makes sense, beyond the stereotypical ‘wrestler wants to dominate all life’ as if you’re some fantasy or comic book villain.

So now we’ve seen you going around, partaking in petty crimes just for the sake of it, like a 9 year old stealing sweets from a candy store to impress his older buddies. Dear oh dear. It’s quite pitiful. Would be comical if it were satirical or ironic. But you’re AXLY serious. I think you can do better, Dan. And I hope you don’t interpret that as ‘you can do bigger crimes’.

Know what else can do better? The TV title! After all, you went on a tirade describing it as a memento of mediocrity, but that seems like projection. After all, that’s all you’ve ever managed to turn it into. I don’t see this title as ‘low-tier’, I see it as the single hardest title of cosequence to defend in the entire company – and this will be my third defense of it. A TV Champion is always being hunted, and the hunter changes face every single week. Even on PPV events, they are forced to defend this title, which is the only reason I did not sign up for the Leap of Faith match right away. I’m just putting that out there, seeing as you accused me of ‘settling’ for a TV title defense, when in fact my only crime here is not being the head booker of the XWF. An odd thing to lay at a person’s feet, but go off.

Of course, I know this match isn’t a gimme by any stretch of the imagination. Our little game of Connect Four will be fun, but violent. After all, the only way to win this is by incapacitating your opponent so badly you have enough time to connect the four pieces on the board. Some could say it’s even harder than a Last Man Standing match. You and I will have to beat the baby Jesus out of one another in order to win, so in spite of its playful appearance, this one is going to be brutal. And it’s going to take more than one #Vaughnemous to your head in order to win. And don’t worry, I won’t cheat by using handcuffs or anything. Did I mention those are forbidden? I’m sure I did.

N-E-Ways, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t take this lightly, and I don’t take *you* lightly. I didn’t take Dionysus, Noah or Alex lightly, and I’m glad I didn’t, or I would not be sitting here today, holding the TV Championship. And I don’t intend to part with it any time soon, either. You make a compelling case when you say that you want B.O.B.  to dominate the XWF from the top down to the bottom, as its previous iteration did. But your friends can’t help you in this upcoming match, Dan. There is no strength in numbers for you here. There will be no shortcuts for you here. There will only be you, me, a board of CONNECT FOUR, and the arena, which will become our playground. As the TV Champion, I’ve given the XWF fans something they’ve never seen before with every show. A cook-off match, a one-count to the finish Cell match, and now a connect 4 match. There is a lot more where that came from, a lot more ideas that I have cooking inside of my brainbox. It’s honestly half the fun of getting to carry this title. Not so I can twist things in my favor, but so I can make sure the fans have the most entertaining night imaginable.

And if not for the fans, who do we do it for, eh? At least, that’s what I think. So see you out there, Dan. A bientôt!"

[Image: AgHN3c0.png]

A few days later…
At a café in the Quartier Latin

The past few days had been little more than grueling workouts, match prep and film study. It was the first time Angelica had allowed herself a moment of respite, and what better way to relax than breakfast with a Croque Madame, an omelette, croissant, and French Toast? She also really wanted a pain au chocolat but that would be too much, even for what was a bit of a cheat meal.

Yes, her prep for this match had been good. She hadn’t slacked off, had stayed focused and was confident of her game plan. And yet, she had a lot of other things on her mind. Throughout the week she had tried to ignore them, but the closer Leap of Faith came, the more she realized it would be in her best interest to purge those other thoughts by addressing them. Only that way would her mind be clear enough to give the Connect Four match all the attention it warranted. She hadn’t told her mother about the business with her great-grandfather yet. She was scared about how she would react. Disappointed? Angry? It was clear that Angie’s mom wasn’t held in high esteem by her own grandfather.

Still, she felt a bit guilty for not trusting her. And that would have to change. Angelica took her tablet from her phone and set it up on the table. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon sight around here, so she wasn’t too worried she’d be disturbing the other patrons, especially since she was going to be wearing Bluetooth earbuds during the call. The only gamble was that her mother might have gone to bed already, given the hour difference. But as the videocall went through, it didn’t take Mary Vaughn a long time to answer. While she hadn’t gone to bed yet, it was clear she had planned to do so sooner rather than later. Her hair was loose, her makeup was gone and she was wearing modest nighttime attire.

"Hey there, sweetie. What’s up?"

”Hey, mom. Hope you’re doing well. Sorry for calling this early… Well, I mean, late. There’s just… something I wanted to talk to you about?"

Angelica didn’t know why she posed that as a question, but it probably was because she was still hesitant whether this was the right call or not. For now, she sidetracked the main topic of the conversation.

”So, how’s things in Maine? Pop-pop and the rest behaving okay?"

Mary let out something that resembled both a sigh and a groan.

"Uugghhhhh, I suppose so? They’re keeping to themselves for now, but the Lacklanlanders are NOT pleased with their presence. A few of them have tried to go into town, but that didn’t end well. Please come back as soon as you can after Leap of Faith. WITH that TV title, preferably, of course."

”Obvs. Wait, they didn’t get into fights or anything, did they?"

"It’s probably something you’ll have to see for yourself once you get here, sweetie."

”Ah yes. Show, don’t tell. Gotcha."

"Pretty much. But it’s nothing to worry about. Although I wouldn’t test Aveline’s patience for much longer. I’m guessing that’s the only reason why she hasn’t given her people the order to drive them off yet. For now though, just focus on doing what you gotta do over there. I have to say, I’m kind of jealous. I hear Paris is lovely this time of year."

”Totes! Although I’ve mostly been training. This is the first time I’ve gone into the city and allowed myself to unwind a bit. I really wanna win this one, mom. It means a lot. If I do, I’ll have gone undefeated all of July and have racked up three consecutive title defenses. Consistency is key, you know. And perfection is a lot of little things done well. Two things to strive for. Buuuuttt… That’s not the exact reason why I called."

"Oh?"

So Angelica told her. How she’d been intercepted by her great-grandfather’s bodyguards, how they had taken her to  his apartment right next to Central Park, and how he had stated his intent of making her the heir of his fortune, and business shares. Mary remained rather stoic throughout Angelica’s explanation. It worried Angelica, since her mom had become a lot more expressive ever since Richard Vaughn had disappeared from their lives. When Angelica was finished, the silence was… deafening. Mary had averted her eyes from the camera, and seemed deep in thought. But right now, all Angelica wanted to hear was a reaction.

”…mom? Say something? Please? I could really use your guidance, here. I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve been wanting to tell you this for days, but I wasn’t sure how you would react, so… Please?"

Mary eventually looked back into the camera and at her daughter’s face.

"Sweetie… Your great-grandfather is a spiteful man who has never put his family first. I always assumed he wanted nothing to do with any of us because of our life’s choices. For all the blame he likes to put on your grandfather for not living up to his standards, I think he has also made mistakes. You see, Angie, he was a young parent. Your father was a young parent. I certainly was a young parent. At your current age, all of us had children already. But I don’t think any one of us were ready for it. Your great-grandfather just left college and was building his firm, having no time for his child. No wonder your pop-pop ended up resenting that life… it had taken his father away from him.

Of course, that lax attitude ensured he would have me when in truth, he wasn’t ready for it either. Him and your grandma were living that hippie lifestyle, which I grew up in. The boundaries he had rebelled against were completely lacking. But maybe boundaries were exactly what I needed, and I wouldn’t have ended up running off. I was young, too young, when I met your father, but I was so enamored I thought little of the consequences. But in the end, all of those mistakes were for the best, because every decision led to *you*, sweetheart. And I wouldn’t change any of those things.
And… he’s right about you. You are smart and responsible, no matter what anyone might say. You’ve carved out a place for yourself in history, and every risk you’ve taken has been a measured one. But don’t be mistaken, sweetie. This *is* a risk you’re taking. If you inherit his money and infrastructure, you will take on the legacy of someone who had to be ruthless and cold to maintain what he had built. And I do not want you to turn into that."

”I… understand. Temptation is the devil’s work, eh? But then again, when I found out who my dad was, it didn’t change me either. And the Lacklan legacy weighs heavily on my shoulders as well, although I’ve never let that change who I was. In fact, I told my Leap of Faith opponent something similar. He is willing to change who he is, willing to run away from love and happiness, because he has deluded himself into thinking he has to be something, or someone, else. I will never do that, whether I accept his offer or not…"

A pause fell… Eventually, Angelica asked another question.

"How do you think pop-pop and gangy will react? After all, they should be first in line to inherit, right?"

”Your grandfather has never wanted his father’s money, and like I said, he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with his firm. I think he’d be relieved, if anything…"

Another silence fell. This time, it was Mary who broke it with a question.

"…how did the dem-… I mean, how did Sarah react to this news?"

”…I haven’t told her yet."

"You may be surprised to hear this coming from my mouth, but she deserves to know. Are you scared of how she will react, too?"

”…no? …yes? …Eye Dee Kay. But you’re right, I shouldn’t keep this from her. Bad stuff happened the last time I hid a secret from her for too long. As soon as I’m back in Maine I’m having dinner with her to explain everything. Promise!"

"Good."

Angelica felt relieved. She knew where she stood with her mother. For now, that was enough. It hadn’t brought her much closer to a final decision, but it had given her the peace of mind she was looking for. With that out of the way, she was ready. For Leap of Faith. And for all B.O.B. had to offer.]]> <![CDATA[Devils and Sinners]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46636 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 22:59:55 -0700 Mr. Oz]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46636
Oz sits in his library tower, seated in his large, expensive recliner, staring forward as if staring a hole through the very wall itself until the tiny camera floats by and he notices it.

"It's been almost two years. My last time holding the Anarchy title in my hands. The demon I keep locked up, this devil that guides me towards my goals, it wants out for at least this match. So I'm going to oblige it. You saw him, EDWARD. You saw my Devil when I couldn't contain him and he wanted to show you what true power is. True strength. You are a creature of habit, creature of nature, but you never learned how to adapt and survive. You never learned how to truly...

Evolve.

I do this. Every few years, I adapt to the climate of the XWF and I change. I become the biggest threat to any title picture. I end up petering out. Once I come back though, it's the same process all over. I am revitalized, I take control, and I become the most feared entity in the entire company. Three years ago, I came back after a hiatus. I joined the then Brotherhood of Baddies. I became Star of the Month. I almost got the briefcase at that year's Leap of the Faith. I translated that into winning the Anarchy championship.

Edward, it's time for me to grab what's rightfully mine. Clean it up, then show you what it means to be a true champion.

The thing is this: I don't have to hurt you. I can heal you. I can make you more powerful than you could ever imagine. I could help you evolve. I can help bring you to the mountaintop. Why would you want to stop with the Anarchy championship when you could go for the Universal?

Look at the former champions of your belt. Look at the former Universal champions.

My belief in them made them soar beyond their limits and put on a helluva show.

I believe in you, Edward, but you have to follow what I say or else you'll never break free and embrace your true power.

The path to that power though, isn't here at Anarchy anymore. If you let me help you, I can back you up, I can help you take any titles you want. However, this one?

The Anarchy Title will be mine.

You are the Gonzo plushy in a claw game, and the belt is Kermit the Frog. Nobody wants you, but will want the belt instead. You're just there to fill in a space, mine, so that you can move on.

It's time, Edward. To evolve.

When Leap of Faith happens, you're going to lose to me. It's inevitable, Edward. How badly do you want to be a big name in the XWF? How would you like that? Because if you come with me, I will mold you into your perfect self. All I ask in return is one thing:

Believe, in me.

Believing in me is what helped Sidney become Anarchy champion and then become Universal champion. I am a Kingmaker, Edward. I can help you simply by believing in me. You will be the most respected Edward ever.

Just give me the Anarchy championship, and you will be free of all the weight of being a champion. I will hold onto that weight for you.

However, I understand if you want to continue this fight. But if your apes come around again, I will kill them. Should that come to pass, then you should be angry at yourself buddy, if they do die. Because you should know how dangerous I can be, and yet if you choose to put them in harms way, I will not be held responsible for what happens.

I wrestle Kodiak bears, Edward. Apes mean nothing to me. Monkeys mean nothing to me. In the end, the only thing that matters is your surrender. Because if you don't?

Believe in me, to desecrate your remains.

Believe in me, to take everything you hold dear away from you.

Because you don't want me angry, Edward. You would rather be my friend, right? After all, don't I have a trustworthy face?"



With that, the camera cuts, then comes back to Oz, wearing his mask, looking straight at the camera, as it shows his eyes are seemingly blacked out. No pupil, no iris, only a black sclera for both eyes this time. He then speaks, as if it is modded to sound higher pitched, warbled as if he was using a machine that vibrated his throat as he spoke



[Image: UYugEAVl.png]



"Don't you trust this face, EDWARD?! Don't you like seeing the Devil come out to play!?"

His voice warbling, higher pitched but gravelly

"At Leap Of Faith, you will face your demons, caveboy. So keep your ape friends away, while the Devil's out to play."

He opens his arms as the head tilts so eerily, as if he snapped his own neck to be at that angle.

The screen turns to black, and once visuals come on, it shows Oz's mask in a closeup, but blood seeping from his blackened eyes, the nose of his mask, the lips of it, pouring onto the ground as the camera fades to black.]]>
Oz sits in his library tower, seated in his large, expensive recliner, staring forward as if staring a hole through the very wall itself until the tiny camera floats by and he notices it.

"It's been almost two years. My last time holding the Anarchy title in my hands. The demon I keep locked up, this devil that guides me towards my goals, it wants out for at least this match. So I'm going to oblige it. You saw him, EDWARD. You saw my Devil when I couldn't contain him and he wanted to show you what true power is. True strength. You are a creature of habit, creature of nature, but you never learned how to adapt and survive. You never learned how to truly...

Evolve.

I do this. Every few years, I adapt to the climate of the XWF and I change. I become the biggest threat to any title picture. I end up petering out. Once I come back though, it's the same process all over. I am revitalized, I take control, and I become the most feared entity in the entire company. Three years ago, I came back after a hiatus. I joined the then Brotherhood of Baddies. I became Star of the Month. I almost got the briefcase at that year's Leap of the Faith. I translated that into winning the Anarchy championship.

Edward, it's time for me to grab what's rightfully mine. Clean it up, then show you what it means to be a true champion.

The thing is this: I don't have to hurt you. I can heal you. I can make you more powerful than you could ever imagine. I could help you evolve. I can help bring you to the mountaintop. Why would you want to stop with the Anarchy championship when you could go for the Universal?

Look at the former champions of your belt. Look at the former Universal champions.

My belief in them made them soar beyond their limits and put on a helluva show.

I believe in you, Edward, but you have to follow what I say or else you'll never break free and embrace your true power.

The path to that power though, isn't here at Anarchy anymore. If you let me help you, I can back you up, I can help you take any titles you want. However, this one?

The Anarchy Title will be mine.

You are the Gonzo plushy in a claw game, and the belt is Kermit the Frog. Nobody wants you, but will want the belt instead. You're just there to fill in a space, mine, so that you can move on.

It's time, Edward. To evolve.

When Leap of Faith happens, you're going to lose to me. It's inevitable, Edward. How badly do you want to be a big name in the XWF? How would you like that? Because if you come with me, I will mold you into your perfect self. All I ask in return is one thing:

Believe, in me.

Believing in me is what helped Sidney become Anarchy champion and then become Universal champion. I am a Kingmaker, Edward. I can help you simply by believing in me. You will be the most respected Edward ever.

Just give me the Anarchy championship, and you will be free of all the weight of being a champion. I will hold onto that weight for you.

However, I understand if you want to continue this fight. But if your apes come around again, I will kill them. Should that come to pass, then you should be angry at yourself buddy, if they do die. Because you should know how dangerous I can be, and yet if you choose to put them in harms way, I will not be held responsible for what happens.

I wrestle Kodiak bears, Edward. Apes mean nothing to me. Monkeys mean nothing to me. In the end, the only thing that matters is your surrender. Because if you don't?

Believe in me, to desecrate your remains.

Believe in me, to take everything you hold dear away from you.

Because you don't want me angry, Edward. You would rather be my friend, right? After all, don't I have a trustworthy face?"



With that, the camera cuts, then comes back to Oz, wearing his mask, looking straight at the camera, as it shows his eyes are seemingly blacked out. No pupil, no iris, only a black sclera for both eyes this time. He then speaks, as if it is modded to sound higher pitched, warbled as if he was using a machine that vibrated his throat as he spoke



[Image: UYugEAVl.png]



"Don't you trust this face, EDWARD?! Don't you like seeing the Devil come out to play!?"

His voice warbling, higher pitched but gravelly

"At Leap Of Faith, you will face your demons, caveboy. So keep your ape friends away, while the Devil's out to play."

He opens his arms as the head tilts so eerily, as if he snapped his own neck to be at that angle.

The screen turns to black, and once visuals come on, it shows Oz's mask in a closeup, but blood seeping from his blackened eyes, the nose of his mask, the lips of it, pouring onto the ground as the camera fades to black.]]> <![CDATA[Numbers (Part Two)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46635 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 21:43:29 -0700 Dionysus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46635
The board room at the Berget Vineyard was still one I was getting used to.

When you have looked around the room at people who pretty closely resemble you, then you can explain to me how that is not weird in the slightest.

Our flight had been delayed due to severe weather and we ended up flying home from the XWF corporate office later than anticipated. Thankfully, William, who has the patience of a saint, made arrangements to get rooms ready at the closest available hotel, then pick us up the next day for the drive back to the vineyard. It seems that despite Scapelli's strong-arming, the construction was progressing without too much issue. The rain, of course, kept them from doing a lot of their work the past few days, and I had provided clear instruction to not have them conduct any work under extreme heat conditions unless the labor was menial. The five of us, William included, sat in the board room; I sat at the head of the table, looking through some paperwork that had come in while I was away. Daniel had his feet kicked up on the table off to the side, whistling cheerfully as he did so. Devin was admiring the view from the board room, not yet having taken a seat. William and Wide Dio came into the room with a sandwich tray and some extra glasses; the water cooler was bound to get some use today.

William took his seat, taking a now careful examination of each of us in order. "Since this is the first time I have seen all of you for longer than a few minutes...I have to admit, the resemblance is...uncanny," he said, taking another glance at Wide Dio, who had dribbled some mustard on his shirt. "...With some exception."

I could hear a slight twinge of content on his voice, but more distracting was a sound from what seemed like far away. It sounded like...laughter? I shook my head, glancing over at William. "Well, exception or no," I chastised, "these men are very much a part of me, and I would hope that you treat them with the same respect and friendship you have shown me all these years."

"Heh, Will got in trouble with dad," Daniel remarked snidely.

"You are too; get your feet off the table," I ordered Daniel, who shrugged and set them down.

"Now that we're actually looking at it, this place is pretty nice," Devin said, placing a hand on his forehead to block out the sun from coming in. "How long until the construction is done?"

"It'll be a few months still," I replied. "There was a contractor who wanted-"

"Scapelli, right?" Wide Dio interrupted, mouth half-full of delicious deli meat.

"...Yes, Scapelli," I said, though a question did cross my mind in that moment. "So wait a minute; how much of my memories do you all have?"

Devin shrugged. "Bits and pieces. Some recent events since you told us a few things, and the details were kind of just...filled in, I guess? I can't really explain it any other way."

"There are more vivid memories from your past that we all have, though," Daniel stated. "Stuff about our parents, our uncle being arrested for-"

"Okay, I get the picture," I interrupted, holding a hand up to get Daniel to be quiet. Fuck me for being curious, I guess. "For now, lets table that and talk about what the plan is going to be. I received confirmation from Theo on the ride home; your contracts with XWF are now pending a background check. With hope, they'll find some more information on you guys and we can get IDs and the rest squared away in a few days. For now, though, you guys are technically working under me," I stopped to place heavy airquotes when I said "under," just to avoid any hurt feelings. "Once the background checks clear, then you will be under your own contracts with me as your manager, so to speak." I stood out of my chair, turning to face the window and view the wonderful scenery of the bluffs. "The only people who really know about us are in this room, along with Dr. Elbrook, Theo Pryce, and the team that was with me when we traveled to Cairo. Even then, most everyone in XWF think you guys are just extras that I hired to make it seem like I'm in different places at once. We keep this secret as best we can; we cannot afford to let anyone else know the truth behind our wish."

"Lets talk about that for a second," Devin interrupted, jovial as always. "When we were talking with Theo, you and Wide Dio seemed to switch places. What was that about? It didn't look like anything happened; just suddenly Dio was there!"
"I think it ties into the wish I made," I thought aloud. "I said I wanted to be able to go anywhere I needed to be, and you guys came about from that. When we met with Theo and needed to prove the wish actually happened, I thought about being in the hallway where Wide Dio was standing, and we just...switched places. One second I was in the office, and the next I was in the hall."
"Did it hurt?" Daniel asking the important question.
"Nah," Wide Dio replied nonchalantly. "I've had farts hurt more than that."
There was that noise again. That laughter. I could tell this time. "There might be more to it than just being able to swap places with each other...but for now I think that's the likely scenario."
"So where exactly does this leave us?" William inquired. "You still have the vineyard here, your other wrestling contracts, not to mention your personal life. Are you suggesting that these gentlemen be in your stand-ins while you live your best life?"
I turned to face the rest of them. "We talked about this before, and I think the situation has evolved beyond that. We are a team, and I don't really want to take advantage of everyone just for my benefit. But in order to keep up appearances, we are going to need to coordinate this carefully. I have been in touch with a number of airlines to arrange for a private jet."
William began to sweat. "B-but we don't have the budget for-"
"Relax, William," I calmly interrupted. "A private jet is a bit extravagant for the vineyard. I have some money saved over from my World Series of Wrestling winnings that I am willing to put toward this."
"Probably the only thing of value to come from that competition," Daniel said sarcastically.
There was another sound now. Not laughter, but...it sounded like "ooooooo." Like Daniel had laid down some kind of sick diss to...well, just us, right? "The fewer questions we get, the better, hence the private jet. To the rest of the world, we are running an evening sitcom-styled group in Warfare called 'The Many Faces.' You guys aren't part of the roster, just part of my entourage. When we are not at live events, we'll be here at the vineyard. Most of my life is in this state anyway, so there shouldn't be too much of an issue for needing to swap all the time...though if the situation needs my attention, send me a message and I will be there...well, immediately. Since I don't really know how this all works, leave written instruction. William, I need you to show these three how the vineyard is going to operate. That should solve more of the immediate problems."
"And your appointments with Dr. Elbrook? And the time you want to spend with Elli?" William asked.
"Wait, who is Elli?!" The trio exclaimed at the same time.
"I will take care of that myself," I quickly answered without acknowledging the other question. "If we can pull this off without a hitch, then I think we'll be in for some fun. Now, I have another flight to catch. Paris is calling my name."
"Aww, I wanna go..." Wide Dio said, looking down sadly at his half-eaten sandwich.
I patted Dio on the shoulder. "Next time, pal. Heck, we'll find a time to all go together, as a family. But I have business out there I need to take care of," I assured him.
"What kind of business?" William asked.
I looked at him, smiling sinisterly and said...
"Business involving a tower...and a briefcase..."
The Many Faces of Dionysus will be right back after these commercial messages:


The grading of wine is fascinating, when you really dig deep enough into it.

For instance, are you aware that wine from two completely different regions can differ greatly, and yet have the same rating? It is enough of a difference that if you prefer your wine to come from the Napa region that is rated highly, it may not reflect the same palette of, say, Pouilly-Fumé. Now, I understand that for some, wine is wine and you enjoy what you enjoy and avoid what you don't. However, is variety not the spice of life? Why not take the initiative and learn more about what you consume? Why not...

...Take a Leap of Faith?

BOOM, PERFECT SEGUEWAY!

I had always heard stories of Paris, you know. Never really been until now. They say you could spend a lifetime exploring the city and still leave stones unturned. It really is unfortunate that I waited until now to actually travel to this city. Though now that I have been here for about a day or two...I'm kind of ready to be done with it. Not the city itself, that is still rich with history. But putting up with all the people around, from tourists who constantly ask for directions to the street vendors looking to make a quick euro to the locals who look down their nose at everyone because we're in THEIR city. It is a claustrophobic feeling, if I am being honest with you; I have always felt more like myself in quieter spaces, in solitude. The Mussey d'Orsay was quite nice, though. Not a lot of foot traffic, but enough that you still feel like you can blend in.

I have yet to visit the Eiffel Tower, though I intend to before the match. It only makes sense to do as much reconnaissance as you can prior to a match like this. Best possible routes, ambush points, potential shortcuts, prices at the restaurant and the gift shop. Any piece of information I can get ahold of, I need it in order to have the edge I need to win. It may sound strange to the rest of you, but that is the type of person that I am; careful analysis and actionable planning, without a single reliance on good fortune. It is these skills that have carried me so far in my XWF tenure, among the others I have boasted about.

And yet people want to seem to forget these things about me. It is almost as if I have been written off as a placeholder in their eyes. Hell, even Ned, who thinks my brothers being formed was due to my own psyche breaking down, is under the impression I am in a tailspin all because I am currently in the midst of a losing streak. I tell you now; when have I ever been concerned about losses? They happen in this business. I never once acknowledged that I wanted to win every single match I enter into, because think of how boring that would be. "Oh look, its Dionysus; guess we know how this one will go!" I am not in this business to dominate everywhere I go; I am here to compete with and against the best this industry has to offer. It is how I walked away with the Television Title, and just as quickly lost it. Because competition means giving your all even when you lose.

You may look at it from the perspective of my talent coming into question, but does that not do a disservice to the competition itself? Bobby out here talking about how he would have won if he were booked for that match, but given this is also the guy who won and lost the Universal Championship in the same night, by his own suggestion, I believe I will stick to my own assessment of the situation. Do everything you can to win, and sometimes you won't. It happens. It has happened to Dolly Waters, it has happened to Bobby Bourbon, it has happened to Ned Kaye, it has happened to Jenny Myst, and I can say with one-hundred percent certainty that it has happened to Isaiah King. I should know, I was there to dethrone him.

Since we are at this part of the game, Isaiah, let me ask you a quick question: do you think my victory against you was a fluke? You still want to believe deep down that I am beneath you, yet I have stood triumphant over you. We are on the same level, and you still won't acknowledge that. It eats at you that, even after losing the match that would guarantee me a spot, I was still placed in here. Now, why would someone beneath your ability be put in the same match as you? Is it because I am simply dead weight? No, it is because time and again I have proven to be able to hang with the rest of you. In talent, in drive, in motivation, and in hunger. I am just as much the competitor you are, if not moreso. A reminder of the current scoreboard is Dionysus one, Isaiah King zero. And while that may change in the future, the history books will remember our first outing going to me.

I certainly think it left an impression on you, considering that we are not even competing until Sunday. It would be entertaining to see, though; Isaiah King, scrambling up and down the Eiffel Tower, looking for the coveted briefcase...only to be told by an attendant, "Tu ressembles à un catcheur. Cet événement est demain. Veuillez partir; tu fais peur à tout le monde." Feel free to run that through Google Translate if you want to know more.

Now, it may seem that I am bothered by the lack of respect for my accomplishments in such a short amount of time. But rather, it gives me more motivation to show up the rest of the competition. They will all be working hard to get in each others' way, all the while I have a much easier time ascending the tower and claiming my prize. The coveted case. Three-hundred sixty-five days to be on everyone's radar.

A highly rated vintage...with a good pairing.]]>
The board room at the Berget Vineyard was still one I was getting used to.

When you have looked around the room at people who pretty closely resemble you, then you can explain to me how that is not weird in the slightest.

Our flight had been delayed due to severe weather and we ended up flying home from the XWF corporate office later than anticipated. Thankfully, William, who has the patience of a saint, made arrangements to get rooms ready at the closest available hotel, then pick us up the next day for the drive back to the vineyard. It seems that despite Scapelli's strong-arming, the construction was progressing without too much issue. The rain, of course, kept them from doing a lot of their work the past few days, and I had provided clear instruction to not have them conduct any work under extreme heat conditions unless the labor was menial. The five of us, William included, sat in the board room; I sat at the head of the table, looking through some paperwork that had come in while I was away. Daniel had his feet kicked up on the table off to the side, whistling cheerfully as he did so. Devin was admiring the view from the board room, not yet having taken a seat. William and Wide Dio came into the room with a sandwich tray and some extra glasses; the water cooler was bound to get some use today.

William took his seat, taking a now careful examination of each of us in order. "Since this is the first time I have seen all of you for longer than a few minutes...I have to admit, the resemblance is...uncanny," he said, taking another glance at Wide Dio, who had dribbled some mustard on his shirt. "...With some exception."

I could hear a slight twinge of content on his voice, but more distracting was a sound from what seemed like far away. It sounded like...laughter? I shook my head, glancing over at William. "Well, exception or no," I chastised, "these men are very much a part of me, and I would hope that you treat them with the same respect and friendship you have shown me all these years."

"Heh, Will got in trouble with dad," Daniel remarked snidely.

"You are too; get your feet off the table," I ordered Daniel, who shrugged and set them down.

"Now that we're actually looking at it, this place is pretty nice," Devin said, placing a hand on his forehead to block out the sun from coming in. "How long until the construction is done?"

"It'll be a few months still," I replied. "There was a contractor who wanted-"

"Scapelli, right?" Wide Dio interrupted, mouth half-full of delicious deli meat.

"...Yes, Scapelli," I said, though a question did cross my mind in that moment. "So wait a minute; how much of my memories do you all have?"

Devin shrugged. "Bits and pieces. Some recent events since you told us a few things, and the details were kind of just...filled in, I guess? I can't really explain it any other way."

"There are more vivid memories from your past that we all have, though," Daniel stated. "Stuff about our parents, our uncle being arrested for-"

"Okay, I get the picture," I interrupted, holding a hand up to get Daniel to be quiet. Fuck me for being curious, I guess. "For now, lets table that and talk about what the plan is going to be. I received confirmation from Theo on the ride home; your contracts with XWF are now pending a background check. With hope, they'll find some more information on you guys and we can get IDs and the rest squared away in a few days. For now, though, you guys are technically working under me," I stopped to place heavy airquotes when I said "under," just to avoid any hurt feelings. "Once the background checks clear, then you will be under your own contracts with me as your manager, so to speak." I stood out of my chair, turning to face the window and view the wonderful scenery of the bluffs. "The only people who really know about us are in this room, along with Dr. Elbrook, Theo Pryce, and the team that was with me when we traveled to Cairo. Even then, most everyone in XWF think you guys are just extras that I hired to make it seem like I'm in different places at once. We keep this secret as best we can; we cannot afford to let anyone else know the truth behind our wish."

"Lets talk about that for a second," Devin interrupted, jovial as always. "When we were talking with Theo, you and Wide Dio seemed to switch places. What was that about? It didn't look like anything happened; just suddenly Dio was there!"
"I think it ties into the wish I made," I thought aloud. "I said I wanted to be able to go anywhere I needed to be, and you guys came about from that. When we met with Theo and needed to prove the wish actually happened, I thought about being in the hallway where Wide Dio was standing, and we just...switched places. One second I was in the office, and the next I was in the hall."
"Did it hurt?" Daniel asking the important question.
"Nah," Wide Dio replied nonchalantly. "I've had farts hurt more than that."
There was that noise again. That laughter. I could tell this time. "There might be more to it than just being able to swap places with each other...but for now I think that's the likely scenario."
"So where exactly does this leave us?" William inquired. "You still have the vineyard here, your other wrestling contracts, not to mention your personal life. Are you suggesting that these gentlemen be in your stand-ins while you live your best life?"
I turned to face the rest of them. "We talked about this before, and I think the situation has evolved beyond that. We are a team, and I don't really want to take advantage of everyone just for my benefit. But in order to keep up appearances, we are going to need to coordinate this carefully. I have been in touch with a number of airlines to arrange for a private jet."
William began to sweat. "B-but we don't have the budget for-"
"Relax, William," I calmly interrupted. "A private jet is a bit extravagant for the vineyard. I have some money saved over from my World Series of Wrestling winnings that I am willing to put toward this."
"Probably the only thing of value to come from that competition," Daniel said sarcastically.
There was another sound now. Not laughter, but...it sounded like "ooooooo." Like Daniel had laid down some kind of sick diss to...well, just us, right? "The fewer questions we get, the better, hence the private jet. To the rest of the world, we are running an evening sitcom-styled group in Warfare called 'The Many Faces.' You guys aren't part of the roster, just part of my entourage. When we are not at live events, we'll be here at the vineyard. Most of my life is in this state anyway, so there shouldn't be too much of an issue for needing to swap all the time...though if the situation needs my attention, send me a message and I will be there...well, immediately. Since I don't really know how this all works, leave written instruction. William, I need you to show these three how the vineyard is going to operate. That should solve more of the immediate problems."
"And your appointments with Dr. Elbrook? And the time you want to spend with Elli?" William asked.
"Wait, who is Elli?!" The trio exclaimed at the same time.
"I will take care of that myself," I quickly answered without acknowledging the other question. "If we can pull this off without a hitch, then I think we'll be in for some fun. Now, I have another flight to catch. Paris is calling my name."
"Aww, I wanna go..." Wide Dio said, looking down sadly at his half-eaten sandwich.
I patted Dio on the shoulder. "Next time, pal. Heck, we'll find a time to all go together, as a family. But I have business out there I need to take care of," I assured him.
"What kind of business?" William asked.
I looked at him, smiling sinisterly and said...
"Business involving a tower...and a briefcase..."
The Many Faces of Dionysus will be right back after these commercial messages:


The grading of wine is fascinating, when you really dig deep enough into it.

For instance, are you aware that wine from two completely different regions can differ greatly, and yet have the same rating? It is enough of a difference that if you prefer your wine to come from the Napa region that is rated highly, it may not reflect the same palette of, say, Pouilly-Fumé. Now, I understand that for some, wine is wine and you enjoy what you enjoy and avoid what you don't. However, is variety not the spice of life? Why not take the initiative and learn more about what you consume? Why not...

...Take a Leap of Faith?

BOOM, PERFECT SEGUEWAY!

I had always heard stories of Paris, you know. Never really been until now. They say you could spend a lifetime exploring the city and still leave stones unturned. It really is unfortunate that I waited until now to actually travel to this city. Though now that I have been here for about a day or two...I'm kind of ready to be done with it. Not the city itself, that is still rich with history. But putting up with all the people around, from tourists who constantly ask for directions to the street vendors looking to make a quick euro to the locals who look down their nose at everyone because we're in THEIR city. It is a claustrophobic feeling, if I am being honest with you; I have always felt more like myself in quieter spaces, in solitude. The Mussey d'Orsay was quite nice, though. Not a lot of foot traffic, but enough that you still feel like you can blend in.

I have yet to visit the Eiffel Tower, though I intend to before the match. It only makes sense to do as much reconnaissance as you can prior to a match like this. Best possible routes, ambush points, potential shortcuts, prices at the restaurant and the gift shop. Any piece of information I can get ahold of, I need it in order to have the edge I need to win. It may sound strange to the rest of you, but that is the type of person that I am; careful analysis and actionable planning, without a single reliance on good fortune. It is these skills that have carried me so far in my XWF tenure, among the others I have boasted about.

And yet people want to seem to forget these things about me. It is almost as if I have been written off as a placeholder in their eyes. Hell, even Ned, who thinks my brothers being formed was due to my own psyche breaking down, is under the impression I am in a tailspin all because I am currently in the midst of a losing streak. I tell you now; when have I ever been concerned about losses? They happen in this business. I never once acknowledged that I wanted to win every single match I enter into, because think of how boring that would be. "Oh look, its Dionysus; guess we know how this one will go!" I am not in this business to dominate everywhere I go; I am here to compete with and against the best this industry has to offer. It is how I walked away with the Television Title, and just as quickly lost it. Because competition means giving your all even when you lose.

You may look at it from the perspective of my talent coming into question, but does that not do a disservice to the competition itself? Bobby out here talking about how he would have won if he were booked for that match, but given this is also the guy who won and lost the Universal Championship in the same night, by his own suggestion, I believe I will stick to my own assessment of the situation. Do everything you can to win, and sometimes you won't. It happens. It has happened to Dolly Waters, it has happened to Bobby Bourbon, it has happened to Ned Kaye, it has happened to Jenny Myst, and I can say with one-hundred percent certainty that it has happened to Isaiah King. I should know, I was there to dethrone him.

Since we are at this part of the game, Isaiah, let me ask you a quick question: do you think my victory against you was a fluke? You still want to believe deep down that I am beneath you, yet I have stood triumphant over you. We are on the same level, and you still won't acknowledge that. It eats at you that, even after losing the match that would guarantee me a spot, I was still placed in here. Now, why would someone beneath your ability be put in the same match as you? Is it because I am simply dead weight? No, it is because time and again I have proven to be able to hang with the rest of you. In talent, in drive, in motivation, and in hunger. I am just as much the competitor you are, if not moreso. A reminder of the current scoreboard is Dionysus one, Isaiah King zero. And while that may change in the future, the history books will remember our first outing going to me.

I certainly think it left an impression on you, considering that we are not even competing until Sunday. It would be entertaining to see, though; Isaiah King, scrambling up and down the Eiffel Tower, looking for the coveted briefcase...only to be told by an attendant, "Tu ressembles à un catcheur. Cet événement est demain. Veuillez partir; tu fais peur à tout le monde." Feel free to run that through Google Translate if you want to know more.

Now, it may seem that I am bothered by the lack of respect for my accomplishments in such a short amount of time. But rather, it gives me more motivation to show up the rest of the competition. They will all be working hard to get in each others' way, all the while I have a much easier time ascending the tower and claiming my prize. The coveted case. Three-hundred sixty-five days to be on everyone's radar.

A highly rated vintage...with a good pairing.]]> <![CDATA[Simply B.O.B.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46634 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 21:17:02 -0700 Big D]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46634
[Image: Jim-Kaplan.jpg]

"Hi there!" he greeted me like we were old pals, his fangs bared like a shark that's about to strike. His name tag read 'Chet,' which surprised me about as much as finding out some douchebag drinking a Monster energy's name is Kyle; it's sort of a given. "You look like a guy who could use an expensiv............ err, I mean, new car!" His eyes caught my haul, lighting up at the exposed stacks of hundreds visible through the damage and cracks of the briefcase. "You also look like a guy who just robbed a bank!" He let out a fake laugh before slapping me on the back. "Heh, just kiddin'."

Tired from the looooooong trek of a quarter mile, and annoyed by his physical contact, I quickly leveled with Chet.

"Look here, mother fucker!" I began, removing his hand from my back(and likely arm from its socket). "First off, I robbed the robbers for this cash, so no crime committed!" My words didn't phase Chet, who stood there taking the abuse knowing full well he still had a shot at making the sale. And he wasn't wrong, I was an admittedly out of shape athlete who had no intention of hoofin' it anymore than I did growing wings and flying. "Second..............." I stopped myself upon the realization this sleezeball was the only thing between me and a comfortable, air conditioner car. "Ugh," I sighed. "Just show me what you got."

His grin grew even wider. "Right this way, sir!" With money signs in his eyes, Chet skipped towards a collection of various vehicles as I dragged ass behind him. "We just got this lot in today! There's a little bit of everything."

I paced the line of automobiles as the salesman followed close by, stopping every so often to make a suggestion.

"Why don't you try this one on for size?"

[Image: web-lambo.jpg]

It was clearly his most expensive vehicle. His mouth salivated at the chance to pawn it off on some sucker stupidly rich enough to afford to buy a car for the sole purpose of getting laid. As a married man, that sucker would not be me.

"It's a little flashy."

Chet immediately changed his tone, flipping the script and acting as though it was a bad idea from the start. "Don't wanna stand out during bank robberies, I hear ya!" He directed my attention to something on the opposite end of the spectrum. "Here's something a little less conspicuous..........."

[Image: download.jpg]

"Nobody questions a guy in a Subaru," Chet stated with a smack of the hood, causing the front bumper to fall off. "Except who his favorite Street Fighter is, am I right?!" He cleared his throat and kicked the broken part under the car.

"It's a little too cunty for my taste," I cringed, thinking back to the pay-per-view Fuzz & Noah hosted. "Not to mention, I prefer Mortal Kombat."

Suddenly, once again, his attitude conveniently aligned with my own. "Ha, ha, ha, Ryu who?! Hey, how 'bout that Sub-Zero?" We approached a monster of a truck, which Chet used to segue topics. "Speaking of subzero, this bad boy will make driving in winter a breeze................"

[Image: Lifted-Silverado-Duramax-50-inch-Tires-3.jpg]

"Rain, sleet, snow; you could deliver mail with this thing! You wouldn't happen to work for the post office, would ya?"

"No," I responded, coldly, my patience wearing thin.

Chet, a bit more desperate now, continued to push the mammoth of a vehicle on me. "No worries, postmen got their trucks..................." He waved his hand like Vanna White revealing a new puzzle. ".........and YOU have yours!"

I wasn't impressed. It reminded me of all the assholes who would go to the bar I used to work at. They'd come flying into the parking lot like they owned the place, throw it in reverse, and back into a spot with such furiousity, you'd swear they hadn't eaten in weeks.............. even though they were there all day yesterday, and the day before that.

"I don't know," I pretended to ponder, despite having already made up my mind. "I mean, my dick's small, but it's not THAT small!"

"That explains why my grandmother drives one of these," Chet chuckled. "No dick!"

Unamused by his terrible joke, I kept right on track. "What else you got?"

"What else do I got?!" the dealer bellowed, seemingly offended by my lack of faith in his ability to sell. "Why don't I show you where we keep the good stuff?................"

Annoyed that he wasn't already showing me the 'good stuff,' I rolled my eyes and followed Chet towards the back of the lot. He led me to an old warehouse hidden behind his dealership and pulled out a key, which he used to unlock the padded protection safeguarding his alleged prized possessions. With the padlock removed, Chet slid the warehouse door open, revealing a treasure trove of automotives.

"Take a look around," the confident salesman gloated. "Nobody's EVER stepped foot in here and left without buying something."

His words almost felt like a challenge, but even I had to admit he had quite the collection. I perused the building a bit before stopping on something my younger would kill me if I didn't buy.

[Image: Batmobile-Returns-2.jpg]

"No............. way............."

"You thinkin' about the Batmobile?" Chet began to pitch. "Batman himself sat in that vehicle."

"Micheal Keaton?"

The look on Chet's face read a hard 'no.'

"Christian Bale?"

"..................."

"PLEASE tell me it wasn't..............."

"Clooney."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" I shouted. "I was hoping it'd at least be Kilmer!"

"Unfortunately, not."

I put my hands on my hips and sighed. "I got enough of Clooney's ass in that movie, I don't need it in the seat of my car, too!" I shook my head and flung my arms to the side. "I'm sorry, but this is a deal breaker!"

Trying to make a quick recovery, Chet suggested something else along the same line. "If you like superheroes, I also have a Corvette The Flash ran past on-screen!"

"Which Flash?"

Silence.

"Which Flash, Chet?"

"VrrVrr Brrlrr," he incoherently mumbled.

"What was that?!"

"Ezra Miller!" Chet blurted out. "Okay? It was Ezra Miller!"

"We're done here," I said while stomping towards the exit in disappointment. "If I wanted to see shit, I would've watched a Ned Kaye promo!"

Chet chased after me, but my mind was made up............ or so I thought. Before I could leave, one final thing caught my eye, stopping me dead in my tracks.

[Image: Mercedes-G-Class-Popemobile-00.jpg]

"The Popemobile," I whispered, only to realize it could become so much more. "No............. the BOBmobile..............."

Chet caught up to me, seemingly pleased to see me distracted by one of his shiny toys. "Would you like me to fire it up and see how she feels?" He pulled out a janitor-sized ring of keys, took one off, and used it to unlock my future car. "Try her out!" He opened the door for me and I plopped the suitcase and moneybag into the passenger's seat as Chet leaned across me, starting it up.

"Oh yeah!" I screeched with joy at the sound of a nice, clean engine. "I'll take it!

"Excellent!" the triumphant salesman cried with jubilation. "I told you! NOBODY leaves here without buying a car! Now, will that be............." He eyed the money occupying my other front seat. "Cash" His tone dropped to an almost Ben Stein-like monotonous. "Or card?"

"Neither," I replied, shifting into drive.

A confused Chet stepped in front of the BOBmobile, an uneasy smile on his nervous face. "Soooooooooooo, you're going to get a loan?"

"Nope."

I lightly tapped the gas, causing the car to slightly move forward. Despite barely going a mile an hour, a terrified Chet dove out of the way as if he were about to be run down by a freaking tank. As his body landed on the hard concrete floor, I pulled up next to him and rolled the window down. His face lit up, eagerly, as if hopeful I was only playing a prank and actually about to pay him.

Instead, I poked my head out and taunted him with a fact that would likely haunt him for the rest of his worthless life.

"Guess this makes me the first person to leave here without buying anything................"

For the first time since meeting him, Chet's demeanor dwindled. No longer the confident salesman he'd been when I stepped foot on his lot, he was now a shell of his former self. It was almost like watching the exact opposite of my own transformation. Chet had become Big D, a loser who nobody took seriously or gave two shits about, whereas I was now the guy slinging cars left and right as if it were crack.

Neither of us said any more, with me driving off for Leap of Faith as the sound of crying filled the air behind me. I leaned forward to drown it out with the radio, only for it to die, in an instant, with the sound of a gunshot. As awful as it was, I couldn't help but smile. Chet's death served as a poetic reminder that the old D was gone. I was no longer big, I had become something so gargantuan, it made the term 'big' seem miniscule. I was simply B.O.B.





"You made a mistake, Angie.............. a MONSTEROUS error in judgment and it could prove to be a fatal one. You see, when I returned at War Games, I was well aware, and even ADMITTED, that I didn't do my research on you, or your team, and I paid dearly for it. And while I can also admit to paying for being out of shape, and unmotivated, as well; the real kicker was my lack of knowledge. Like the Vaughnemous, for example. I definitely didn't expect a Soccer Kick to the face to finish me off but, with legs like that, I can't say I'm surprised! But, again, had I done my homework, I would've seen it comin', dodged it, and Dan Slammed you into oblivion, just like I'm gonna do Sunday night."

"But YOU, Angie, you didn't do your homework, now did you? If you had, you'd know that challenging me to a game instead of a wrestling match is only gonna work in MY favor. Afterall, I'm the inventor of MULTIPLE board games, specifically, XWF related ones. I know you weren't around when I created them, but has everybody else forgotten about Super Dick and Master Mind?! Super Dick: the game where you stack pieces onto your Gilly and whoever has the biggest dick at the end wins! And Master Mind, the perfect representation of everyone's favorite Kiwi and his homeland of Australia. Kangaroos, boomerangs, brain damage, the works!"

"My point is, Ange, I know games; I've been playing them all my life! Every Saturday night, 7 o'clock sharp, me and my buddies would get together and challenge ourselves to a test of wits. And I'm not talking about mindlessly dropping pieces into a cheap, plastic contraption, oh no; these were REAL games. Ones that kept us up 'til 4 in the morning. Ones that made us think about our next move a bit more in depth than "duuhhhhhhh, do I block or do I not?' These were the types of games that, unlike your choice of tic-tac-toe on 'roids, COULDN'T be manipulated by something as simple as whoever goes first."

"But that's why you had to put your little twist on it, right? You KNEW if I went first, I could take advantage of the situation, so you had to make it JUST complicated enough that the average Connect 4er couldn't cheat the system. And then you did everything in your power to make it so that YOU could! No weapons. No B.O.B. Angelica Vaughn doesn't use weapons, nor does she have the backing of B.O.B. All I hear is the TV Champion's scared and has to make shit up in order to keep her Title! I'm surprised you didn't ban wrestling moves, at this rate. Hell, you even made it so we have to run back and forth like it's some kind of marathon! Gee, I wonder............ out of the two of us, who's in better shape to do sprints in the middle of a match? Talk about a Champion's advantage! You wanna make having a dick illegal, too, while we're at it? Joke's on you! I'd just chop it off and get it reattached after the match is over; THAT'S how much winning this belt means to me!"

"You wanna talk about numbers; brag about how this is gonna be 4 in a row? Well, I've got a number for ya: 3. That's right, Dale Earnhardt, the Intimidator! You see, a win against you elevates me from a sea of 2s, to a throne of 3s. And even though I'd have to share that throne, at least I'd be sharing it with an alleged queen. Regardless, the fact still remains that I would go down as having the most TV Title reigns in modern XWF history!"

"And you wanna know what else the number 3 applies to? The number of successful defenses YOUR reign is gonna have! The only 4 in a row you're going to see, is the four I connected to win your Championship!"

"I don't think you, or anyone else, seems to understand what B.O.B. has done for me. The confidence boost this brotherhood has instilled in me is more than ANY physical assistance they could provide. And I intend to repay them by proving my worth and bringing a Championship to the group............... as well as a little surprise to be revealed at a later date. Perhaps a TV Title celebration? Only time will tell!"

"Before I go, I'll leave you with something in the language of cowards:

va te faire foutre

Yeah, I can use Google translate, too! I don't give a fuck if it's a fantastic match, or whether the fans like it; as far as I'm concerned, we DESERVE to be booed for the shitshow of a match you picked. Also, I ain't your friend and you most certainly will NOT remain TV Champion by the time the night is over. See you in Paris..................  where I expect you to surrender, just like the French!"]]>
[Image: Jim-Kaplan.jpg]

"Hi there!" he greeted me like we were old pals, his fangs bared like a shark that's about to strike. His name tag read 'Chet,' which surprised me about as much as finding out some douchebag drinking a Monster energy's name is Kyle; it's sort of a given. "You look like a guy who could use an expensiv............ err, I mean, new car!" His eyes caught my haul, lighting up at the exposed stacks of hundreds visible through the damage and cracks of the briefcase. "You also look like a guy who just robbed a bank!" He let out a fake laugh before slapping me on the back. "Heh, just kiddin'."

Tired from the looooooong trek of a quarter mile, and annoyed by his physical contact, I quickly leveled with Chet.

"Look here, mother fucker!" I began, removing his hand from my back(and likely arm from its socket). "First off, I robbed the robbers for this cash, so no crime committed!" My words didn't phase Chet, who stood there taking the abuse knowing full well he still had a shot at making the sale. And he wasn't wrong, I was an admittedly out of shape athlete who had no intention of hoofin' it anymore than I did growing wings and flying. "Second..............." I stopped myself upon the realization this sleezeball was the only thing between me and a comfortable, air conditioner car. "Ugh," I sighed. "Just show me what you got."

His grin grew even wider. "Right this way, sir!" With money signs in his eyes, Chet skipped towards a collection of various vehicles as I dragged ass behind him. "We just got this lot in today! There's a little bit of everything."

I paced the line of automobiles as the salesman followed close by, stopping every so often to make a suggestion.

"Why don't you try this one on for size?"

[Image: web-lambo.jpg]

It was clearly his most expensive vehicle. His mouth salivated at the chance to pawn it off on some sucker stupidly rich enough to afford to buy a car for the sole purpose of getting laid. As a married man, that sucker would not be me.

"It's a little flashy."

Chet immediately changed his tone, flipping the script and acting as though it was a bad idea from the start. "Don't wanna stand out during bank robberies, I hear ya!" He directed my attention to something on the opposite end of the spectrum. "Here's something a little less conspicuous..........."

[Image: download.jpg]

"Nobody questions a guy in a Subaru," Chet stated with a smack of the hood, causing the front bumper to fall off. "Except who his favorite Street Fighter is, am I right?!" He cleared his throat and kicked the broken part under the car.

"It's a little too cunty for my taste," I cringed, thinking back to the pay-per-view Fuzz & Noah hosted. "Not to mention, I prefer Mortal Kombat."

Suddenly, once again, his attitude conveniently aligned with my own. "Ha, ha, ha, Ryu who?! Hey, how 'bout that Sub-Zero?" We approached a monster of a truck, which Chet used to segue topics. "Speaking of subzero, this bad boy will make driving in winter a breeze................"

[Image: Lifted-Silverado-Duramax-50-inch-Tires-3.jpg]

"Rain, sleet, snow; you could deliver mail with this thing! You wouldn't happen to work for the post office, would ya?"

"No," I responded, coldly, my patience wearing thin.

Chet, a bit more desperate now, continued to push the mammoth of a vehicle on me. "No worries, postmen got their trucks..................." He waved his hand like Vanna White revealing a new puzzle. ".........and YOU have yours!"

I wasn't impressed. It reminded me of all the assholes who would go to the bar I used to work at. They'd come flying into the parking lot like they owned the place, throw it in reverse, and back into a spot with such furiousity, you'd swear they hadn't eaten in weeks.............. even though they were there all day yesterday, and the day before that.

"I don't know," I pretended to ponder, despite having already made up my mind. "I mean, my dick's small, but it's not THAT small!"

"That explains why my grandmother drives one of these," Chet chuckled. "No dick!"

Unamused by his terrible joke, I kept right on track. "What else you got?"

"What else do I got?!" the dealer bellowed, seemingly offended by my lack of faith in his ability to sell. "Why don't I show you where we keep the good stuff?................"

Annoyed that he wasn't already showing me the 'good stuff,' I rolled my eyes and followed Chet towards the back of the lot. He led me to an old warehouse hidden behind his dealership and pulled out a key, which he used to unlock the padded protection safeguarding his alleged prized possessions. With the padlock removed, Chet slid the warehouse door open, revealing a treasure trove of automotives.

"Take a look around," the confident salesman gloated. "Nobody's EVER stepped foot in here and left without buying something."

His words almost felt like a challenge, but even I had to admit he had quite the collection. I perused the building a bit before stopping on something my younger would kill me if I didn't buy.

[Image: Batmobile-Returns-2.jpg]

"No............. way............."

"You thinkin' about the Batmobile?" Chet began to pitch. "Batman himself sat in that vehicle."

"Micheal Keaton?"

The look on Chet's face read a hard 'no.'

"Christian Bale?"

"..................."

"PLEASE tell me it wasn't..............."

"Clooney."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" I shouted. "I was hoping it'd at least be Kilmer!"

"Unfortunately, not."

I put my hands on my hips and sighed. "I got enough of Clooney's ass in that movie, I don't need it in the seat of my car, too!" I shook my head and flung my arms to the side. "I'm sorry, but this is a deal breaker!"

Trying to make a quick recovery, Chet suggested something else along the same line. "If you like superheroes, I also have a Corvette The Flash ran past on-screen!"

"Which Flash?"

Silence.

"Which Flash, Chet?"

"VrrVrr Brrlrr," he incoherently mumbled.

"What was that?!"

"Ezra Miller!" Chet blurted out. "Okay? It was Ezra Miller!"

"We're done here," I said while stomping towards the exit in disappointment. "If I wanted to see shit, I would've watched a Ned Kaye promo!"

Chet chased after me, but my mind was made up............ or so I thought. Before I could leave, one final thing caught my eye, stopping me dead in my tracks.

[Image: Mercedes-G-Class-Popemobile-00.jpg]

"The Popemobile," I whispered, only to realize it could become so much more. "No............. the BOBmobile..............."

Chet caught up to me, seemingly pleased to see me distracted by one of his shiny toys. "Would you like me to fire it up and see how she feels?" He pulled out a janitor-sized ring of keys, took one off, and used it to unlock my future car. "Try her out!" He opened the door for me and I plopped the suitcase and moneybag into the passenger's seat as Chet leaned across me, starting it up.

"Oh yeah!" I screeched with joy at the sound of a nice, clean engine. "I'll take it!

"Excellent!" the triumphant salesman cried with jubilation. "I told you! NOBODY leaves here without buying a car! Now, will that be............." He eyed the money occupying my other front seat. "Cash" His tone dropped to an almost Ben Stein-like monotonous. "Or card?"

"Neither," I replied, shifting into drive.

A confused Chet stepped in front of the BOBmobile, an uneasy smile on his nervous face. "Soooooooooooo, you're going to get a loan?"

"Nope."

I lightly tapped the gas, causing the car to slightly move forward. Despite barely going a mile an hour, a terrified Chet dove out of the way as if he were about to be run down by a freaking tank. As his body landed on the hard concrete floor, I pulled up next to him and rolled the window down. His face lit up, eagerly, as if hopeful I was only playing a prank and actually about to pay him.

Instead, I poked my head out and taunted him with a fact that would likely haunt him for the rest of his worthless life.

"Guess this makes me the first person to leave here without buying anything................"

For the first time since meeting him, Chet's demeanor dwindled. No longer the confident salesman he'd been when I stepped foot on his lot, he was now a shell of his former self. It was almost like watching the exact opposite of my own transformation. Chet had become Big D, a loser who nobody took seriously or gave two shits about, whereas I was now the guy slinging cars left and right as if it were crack.

Neither of us said any more, with me driving off for Leap of Faith as the sound of crying filled the air behind me. I leaned forward to drown it out with the radio, only for it to die, in an instant, with the sound of a gunshot. As awful as it was, I couldn't help but smile. Chet's death served as a poetic reminder that the old D was gone. I was no longer big, I had become something so gargantuan, it made the term 'big' seem miniscule. I was simply B.O.B.





"You made a mistake, Angie.............. a MONSTEROUS error in judgment and it could prove to be a fatal one. You see, when I returned at War Games, I was well aware, and even ADMITTED, that I didn't do my research on you, or your team, and I paid dearly for it. And while I can also admit to paying for being out of shape, and unmotivated, as well; the real kicker was my lack of knowledge. Like the Vaughnemous, for example. I definitely didn't expect a Soccer Kick to the face to finish me off but, with legs like that, I can't say I'm surprised! But, again, had I done my homework, I would've seen it comin', dodged it, and Dan Slammed you into oblivion, just like I'm gonna do Sunday night."

"But YOU, Angie, you didn't do your homework, now did you? If you had, you'd know that challenging me to a game instead of a wrestling match is only gonna work in MY favor. Afterall, I'm the inventor of MULTIPLE board games, specifically, XWF related ones. I know you weren't around when I created them, but has everybody else forgotten about Super Dick and Master Mind?! Super Dick: the game where you stack pieces onto your Gilly and whoever has the biggest dick at the end wins! And Master Mind, the perfect representation of everyone's favorite Kiwi and his homeland of Australia. Kangaroos, boomerangs, brain damage, the works!"

"My point is, Ange, I know games; I've been playing them all my life! Every Saturday night, 7 o'clock sharp, me and my buddies would get together and challenge ourselves to a test of wits. And I'm not talking about mindlessly dropping pieces into a cheap, plastic contraption, oh no; these were REAL games. Ones that kept us up 'til 4 in the morning. Ones that made us think about our next move a bit more in depth than "duuhhhhhhh, do I block or do I not?' These were the types of games that, unlike your choice of tic-tac-toe on 'roids, COULDN'T be manipulated by something as simple as whoever goes first."

"But that's why you had to put your little twist on it, right? You KNEW if I went first, I could take advantage of the situation, so you had to make it JUST complicated enough that the average Connect 4er couldn't cheat the system. And then you did everything in your power to make it so that YOU could! No weapons. No B.O.B. Angelica Vaughn doesn't use weapons, nor does she have the backing of B.O.B. All I hear is the TV Champion's scared and has to make shit up in order to keep her Title! I'm surprised you didn't ban wrestling moves, at this rate. Hell, you even made it so we have to run back and forth like it's some kind of marathon! Gee, I wonder............ out of the two of us, who's in better shape to do sprints in the middle of a match? Talk about a Champion's advantage! You wanna make having a dick illegal, too, while we're at it? Joke's on you! I'd just chop it off and get it reattached after the match is over; THAT'S how much winning this belt means to me!"

"You wanna talk about numbers; brag about how this is gonna be 4 in a row? Well, I've got a number for ya: 3. That's right, Dale Earnhardt, the Intimidator! You see, a win against you elevates me from a sea of 2s, to a throne of 3s. And even though I'd have to share that throne, at least I'd be sharing it with an alleged queen. Regardless, the fact still remains that I would go down as having the most TV Title reigns in modern XWF history!"

"And you wanna know what else the number 3 applies to? The number of successful defenses YOUR reign is gonna have! The only 4 in a row you're going to see, is the four I connected to win your Championship!"

"I don't think you, or anyone else, seems to understand what B.O.B. has done for me. The confidence boost this brotherhood has instilled in me is more than ANY physical assistance they could provide. And I intend to repay them by proving my worth and bringing a Championship to the group............... as well as a little surprise to be revealed at a later date. Perhaps a TV Title celebration? Only time will tell!"

"Before I go, I'll leave you with something in the language of cowards:

va te faire foutre

Yeah, I can use Google translate, too! I don't give a fuck if it's a fantastic match, or whether the fans like it; as far as I'm concerned, we DESERVE to be booed for the shitshow of a match you picked. Also, I ain't your friend and you most certainly will NOT remain TV Champion by the time the night is over. See you in Paris..................  where I expect you to surrender, just like the French!"]]> <![CDATA[Keep Dreamin', Little Nemos]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46633 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 18:54:28 -0700 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46633
SATURDAY, JULY 22ND, 4:52 AM


The sound of drilling!

Hammering!

Nailing!

Overwhelming, catastrophic toolery tomfoolery is afoot!

”...*ahem* Hello, Mister Flynn.”

The caterwauling continues unabated.

”I just wanted to check-in and see how you’re doing on your project to… and I repeat… FORCE people to change their minds about you.”

…

Harsh, jarring dissonance.

The sounds that a midnight construction site would call its local government to complain about.

”Actually, now that we’re on that subject… I was wondering if we’d… *really* considered the full impact that… brainwashing the planet into liking you… could potentially have on your still-burgeoning ‘good guy’ brand.”

Suddenly, the sound stops.

….

…..

Irwin sucks in air. His tongue freezes so hard, his saliva drops in temperature.

He holds his breath with all his might.

…

…

The deafening clanging resumes.

…

”See, Mister Flynn… of course, I comprehend the… SHORT-TERM gains that your plan would result in. For instance, everyone would finally agree that you’re a good guy.”

“Because, you’d have brainwashed them into thinking that you’re a good guy.”

…

”And, in a vacuum, it might seem like your plan has no flaws.”

…

*cough*.

”Which, of course it doesn’t. To insinuate otherwise would be ridiculous. It’s a classic, brilliant Mark Flynn plan. Draw a straight line from point A to point B. People don’t like you? Why play these theatrical games of fake-or-real heroism when you can directly MOLD their MINDS into liking you? Inspired! Genius!”

…

”However… one might consider it prudent to consider the… long-term implications of your plan.”

…

”See, Mister Flynn, suppose there was a brief outage in your… brain-washing method. Or perhaps, some misguided hero arrived at your storage facility for this device and destroyed it! Foolishly!”

…

”Obviously, I don’t need to point out to you the possible ramifications of people falling out of a well-intended mental manipulation. We already have difficulties with your brand being associated with villainy… I don’t think we could ever recover if people believed you were a hypnotist.”

“Ha. Ha.”

…

”*ahem*”

”I suppose what I’m getting at, Mister Flynn, is this. I understand you loathe criticism. Or disapproval. Or even unenthusiastic commentary of your… schemes.”

”But… you may recall recently? When we had to save those children from… having their heads exploded? And I was, let’s say, vehemently opposed to my role of being the one actually disarming the explosives? With approximately 22 minutes of Internet training under my belt?”

“And you, Mister Flynn. You reminded me that, while we might not actually be anyone’s first choice to solve that ‘child-danger’ problem… We were the only people in position to solve it. And that made us the best people to solve it.”

“And… And by that reasoning… your reasoning! That makes me the best person to stop you from… hypnotizing the planet into unconditionally loving everything you do.”

“Even though I have fragile bones…”

“I get vertigo walking backwards and forwards…”

“I need SPF 15 sunscreen indoors…”

“I get stage fright when I see pictures of crowds in textbooks…”

“And I’m… THOROUGHLY terrified of you. Not just of you, but also of you disliking me… Because you’re my favorite wrestler AS WELL AS my greatest, personal fear.”

…

“But… sir, if I don’t step up now and say something, no one else will! Just like you said when you saved those children from Micheal Graves! If we didn’t save those kids, no one else would have!”

“And I hope you can respect me by combating my fears to bring these concerns directly to your attention! Before you warp millions of minds… or, even worse, IRREVERSIBLY DAMAGE YOUR BRAND!”

“I endlessly and all-encompassingly respect, love, fear and am in awe-slash-terror of you, sir. But, I felt I needed to say something… Immediately! Before it’s too late!”

…

“*ahem* Anyway, I hope this message-slash-plea-for-sanity finds you well.” Irwin reads, typing at his laptop, with Flynn safely doing all his hammering and thundering safely in the other room. “And I look forward to aiding you in a different…”

…

Irwin deletes the word ‘different’.

“NEW, innovative plan to further your long-term success! Sincerely, your number one fan, Irwin.”

…Irwin nods, quickly scanning his email for typos.

…None! Irwin kisses his fingertips like a master chef.

“Perfectly written.” Irwin drags his mouse over the ‘send’ button. “Now, that only leaves the acting of sending it.”

…

……

…

His finger hovers over the left-click of the mouse…

…

At the sheer thought of even potential confrontation, Irwin begins to fold like an undercooked pancake on its side…

Spine shivering, drenched in flop sweat…

…

Irwin glances at his wrist.

“My oh my, would you look at the time! I’ve let it get sooooo late!” He says aloud to no one.

There’s no watch on his wrist.

“I can’t send Mister Flynn an email like this outside of work hours! How rude!”

Irwin shakes his head, fabricating this improvisational office etiquette stageplay to an audience of none.

“I’ll have to schedule it for… *cough* tomorrow.”

…

Irwin’s finger still shakes.

“Actually, who likes reading emails so close to the weekend!” Irwin wheezes. “Let’s… let’s schedule it for Monday!”

…

“At 9:15.”

Finally, Irwin’s finger seems to relax.

Irwin clicks his mouse. Then, quickly flips tabs to notify Flynn he’ll be taking Monday off… for personal reas-

“IRWIN!” Flynn’s workdoor swings open, wielding a jackhammer!

“AHHHHHHHH! I NEVER SENT YOU AN EMAIL, SIR! I w-w-... I WAS HACKED! THE PRINCE OF NIGERIA DEMANDED I PAY SIX MILLION DOLLARS OR HE’D SEND IT!” Irwin covers his face, anticipating a walloping… or even worse, verbal cruelty!

…Flynn’s brow contorts inward in confusion. He sets down the jackhammer…

…As he removes a pair of hearing protecting headphones from his ears.

”Hang on, Ir-dawg.” Flynn runs his pinky around his inner ear, squinting as he does. ”There we go.” Flynn sniffs. ”Now, what were you saying?”

”Nothing!” Irwin immediately shoots back, hairs standing on the back of his neck.

…

Flynn shrugs.

”Alright.”

…

Flynn turns around to go back inside his workshop. Irwin breathes a sigh of relief.

”OH, THAT’S RIGHT!” Flynn snaps his fingers.

Irwin immediately hits the floor in the fetal position!

Flynn ignores this, standing over Irwin and picking his henchman up by the scruff of his neck.

”OH GOD!” Irwin squeals. His body alternates between trying to soil itself, playing dead and feigning a heart attack… All the different ways members of the rodentia family try to make predators feel sorry for them.

”Irmano.” Flynn clears his throat, looking Irwin in the eye.

…

”Uh… Sorry about the noise.”

…

”...Pardon?”

Flynn checks his watch. ”It’s 4AM. That’s when I get my best drilling done… But, I imagine the noise might be… a little much, right?”

…

Irwin pssshes heartily. ”Whaaaaaaat? Noooooooo.” Irwin says, refusing to bring up the fact that he hasn’t been able to sleep for three days. ”I don’t mind it at all! Sir, if anything, I wish it was louder!”

…

Flynn’s brow twists confused.

”...You want it… Louder?”

Oh no.

”Oh, yes!”

…Flynn scratches his head.

”...Look, my tools aren’t instruments, Earwig. I can’t just plug a jackhammer into an amp and make it louder…”

…

Flynn rubs his chin, looking up thoughtfully.

”...Well, actually, maybe I could. Just a quick adapter port on my jackhammer, some minor electrical circuitry. If you really want, I *could* make it louder?”

Please don’t.

”Please do!”

…

Flynn shrugs, dispassionately.

”Alright.”

…

Flynn turns around, re-entering his work area.

…The very moment that the door closes behind Flynn…

Irwin falls on his hands and knees.

”You small coward. You absolute cretin.” The small pasty nerd shouts at himself.

He ineffectually winds up his fists to slam them on the ground!

…

Before he remembers his forearms bruise easily…

…

With a sneer, he bends hisc middle finger against his thumb… And flicks the ground!

…Ooh, his nail chips.

Irwin blows on the end of his finger, seizing in pain! He shakes his head!

”Just say it! Just March in there and tell him, for his own good…. Mark Flynn, you are a POWERHUNGRY MANIAC AN-”

Suddenly, the door swings back open! “IRWIN!”

Irwin chokes on his spit, reeling back his neck in fear! He coughs his airway open, only so he can immediately beg for mercy!

“Mister Flynn! I-I-I was just… writing the first verse of a musical of your rise to the top!” Irwin begin snapping out of rhythm. “Mark Flynnnn, you’re a… *cough* powerFUL… maaaaaan.”

“Hang on.” Flynn turns his head toward Irwin, revealing a phone pressed to his chest.

“Ir-nesto, could you hold off your… musical endeavors? I’m on the phone.”

Irwin shuts up so fast, so hard.

Flynn sticks up a thumb, before turning back to the phone.

“Much better. Talk to me, Nedidiah.”

…

“Yeah huh.”

…

“Yeah huh.”

…

Flynn spins and looks back toward his work area.

“…Sure, sure. I’m just… in the middle of something.”

…

Flynn rests a forearm against the doorway.

“No, yeah. Yep, yep, yep.”

…

Flynn sneers, irritatedly.

“No, of COURSE, I WANT to.”

…

Flynn nods his head indignantly!

“YEAH. I’ve been LOOKING FORWARD TO IT, IN FACT.”

…

…Flynn clears his throat.

“…No, okay, wrong choice of words… I’m… somberly eager… to get this over with.”

…

Flynn exhales.

“GOD, WHATEVER, I’LL BE THERE.”

Flynn hangs up.

…

Flynn wraps his head in his hands.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

…

“Irwin, C’mere.” Flynn snaps his fingers twice. “Need your thoughts.”

Irwin takes this as permission to make noise once more. He bows at the neck.

“Absolutely, sir. Is it about your mind control operation? Because I had some… potential concerns. Point on-”

“What? No, not that. Something else.”

…Flynn groans.

“Ned wants me to…” Flynn snorts. “Meet with Lilabeth’s parents.”

“Ah.” Irwin nods. “By Lilabeth, you mean the young terminally ill girl that you accide-...”

…Flynn turns to Irwin with a cold stare.

“I MEAN.” Irwin clears his throat. “The one Micheal Graves intentionally exploded.”

Flynn hits Irwin with an affable finger-gun. “Bingo. See, here’s the issue…”

…

“What, exactly, are you supposed to say… to someone… y’know… after you play a NOT-INSIGNIFICANT role… in exploding their child?”

…

Irwin sputters his lips for a few moments, lost. “I mean, that’s a tough one, sir. They don’t make greeting cards for that sort of event.”

“I know.” Flynn scratches the back of his head. “I checked.”

Flynn exhales.

“This is dumb. STUPID! Why the HELL does Ned want me to speak to these people? There’s no CONCRETE OBJECTIVE to comforting these people!” Flynn barks.

“W-W-what do you mean, sir?”

“No endgame success! Nothing I say will do ANYTHING to actually HELP these peopl! And I HATE THAT! I don’t believe in empty words, Ir-dawg! I’m a doer, not a speaker!”

Irwin smiles uncomfortably caught between his urge to compliment Flynn and his fear of correcting him. “B-b-but, sir! You love speaking! You’re one of the greatest promo-deliverers in wrestling history!” Irwin bleats, the former urger winning over the latter.

“That’s DIFFERENT.” Flynn spits. “I’m SPEAKING about how I’m going to DOMINATE my opponent. This is…” Flynn sighs. “A different kind of talking. There’s nothing to do. Lilabeth is dead.” …Flynn sighs. “And I fucked up saving her.”

…

Irwin softens. If Irwin weren’t terrified of Flynn, he’d rest a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

…

Instead, he stays about six feet away. (Which is pretty close by Irwin’s standards.)

“...Sorry, sir. That’s tough.”

…

Flynn’s ears perk.

“What was that, Ir-man?”

…Irwin clears his throat.

“I said ‘sorry’, sir. That’s not a great predicament… So, I said… sorry.”

“SORRY!” Flynn grins, snapping his fingers! “OF COURSE! THAT’S WHAT I SAY! SORRY! That’s true AND I’m DOING something. I’m APOLOGIZING!”

…Irwin shrugs.

“Uh… yes! Good idea!” Irwin extends a fist into a thumbs-up!

Flynn fistbumps it! “YOUR Good idea, Irmano!”

…Irwin is glowing red! This is the second time in two days that Flynn credited him with an idea he had. (That also makes for two times in total.)

“DUH! Brilliant in its simplicity!” Flynn bows his head, mournfully. “I’m sorry for your loss! I’m sorry for your pain.”

Flynn snaps his fingers!

“Oooooh! Then, a check! For THEIR LOSS! That’s another thing I can do! I can pay for their expenses!” Flynn pumps his fist! “A big NOVELTY CHECK! The size of a goddamn SUBARU!”

…

Irwin clears his throat.

“Sir, if I may, I think a novelty check might be… inappropriate.”

…

Flynn fehs.

“Ugh, you might be right, Ir-dawg. Let’s go regular check…”

…

“But, I’ll bring a spare in the backseat, in case I get there and the vibe is right for a giant check.”

…

Flynn disappears back inside his work area.

…

Irwin scratches his head.

“Uhhh… sir? Are y-?”

BAM! A second later, Flynn is out, dressed to the nines for a black tie affair.

“Y’know, Irwinner.” Flynn nods, tightening his tie around his throat. “A minute ago, I was thinking this would be a disaster… But, after your wise council.” Flynn beams. “I’m gonna knock giving my condolences OUTTA THE FUCKIN’ PARK!”

Irwin nods! “Absolutely!”

***

24 Hours Later…


Irwin is sweeping the storage unit calmly, whistling cheerfully.

WHAM! The door to Flynn’s storage unit is kicked open!

Irwin jogs forward happily!

“Mister Flynn, how did it g-”

SMACK! A large novelty check hits Irwin square in the forehead (mostly harmlessly, it’s pretty light!) It falls to the floor!

Flynn stumbles in… his nice black suit torn at the collar… Sporting a purple bruise on his cheek.

”NED PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!”

…

”...P-p-p-pardon?”

”NED. KAYE. PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!”

Flynn marches across the storage unit, slamming the door to his work area.

…

Irwin carefully creeps up and knocks once.

”S-s-s-sir? Do you… wanna talk about it?”

SWIP! The door slips open! And Flynn’s face is red! (in anger, humiliation and because of light bruising)

”Lilabeth’s mom, Nancy, did NOT want an apology. She did NOT want my money.” Flynn sneers, furiously. ”She didn’t even want to see me AT ALL! She said she wanted nothing to do with me!”

Irwin is nauseous with terror! ”I-I-I’m so sorry, sir! I… My idea was awful!”

…

Flynn shakes his head, shrugging. ”...Well, actually, no, honestly, all that was fine. Nance, Lilabeth’s mom, said she didn’t hate me.” Flynn scratches his chin. “Which, honestly, I gotta call a win.”

…After a moment, Irwin shrugs. “That is, in fact, better than the average person reacts to you, sir.”

“Then, GET THIS! Lilabeth’s dad, Bill actually thanked me for killing Gravy! Said I did the right thing!”

…

Irwin’s eyes squint. “Wait, but you’ve said you didn’t kill Gravy.”

“Exactly, Gravy blew himself up. But ol’ Billy Boy thanked me for it! Said I did the right thing.”

“Well.” Irwin smiles. “That sounds like two for two!”

“I KNOW! I FUCKING NAILED IT!” Flynn howls! “Then, we get outside, I tell Ned thanks for making me do that and that I appreciate the lesson.” Flynn shakes his head. “Then, NED PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!”

“B-b-but, why?”

“I DUNNO! He starts in about how selfish I am…”

“Selfish?”

“That I thought our meeting was all about me! It was supposed to be about the parents!”

“...Well, that’s not a *bad* point, sir.” Irwin mutters. “Shouldn’t it be about their needs?”

“If it should… WHY DID WE EVEN GO THERE, IRWIN?!?” Flynn slurs out. “They didn’t even invite us! Ned insisted on forcing this meeting to happen so *I* could apologize! If it wasn’t about me, and it wasn’t about them, who the FUCK was it for?!?”

…Irwin clears his throat.

“Well, I… I suppose I understand your confusion, sir. Sounds like an overreaction on Ned’s part to punch you in the face over just that...”

…

Flynn scratches his head.

“...Well, there was one other thing…”

“Oh?”

“Ned was mad… saying I… took justice into my own hands. That I acted like Gravy’s judge, jury and executioner! But I didn’t even KILL Gravy!”

“...But, Lilabeth’s dad did thank you for killing him?”

“Correct, yes, Irwin. Which, y’know, that’s fine…”

“But, then Ned hit you for killing him.”

“WHICH I DIDN’T DO.”

…

“Well…” Irwin says, not sure how to confront Flynn with the fact that he’s okay being thanked for something he didn’t do, but not okay with being criticized for it. “Maybe Ned wants you to… do better? And… next time, you co-?”

“Next time, I should do WHAT better, Irwin?!?” Flynn spits. “I stop a yakuza robbery in Japan, people boo me. I save six kids from being exploded in Sacramento, people BOO ME LOUDER! I do EXACTLY what Ned wants, apologizing to parents WHO DON’T EVEN WANT AN APOLOGY and ol’ Neddy PUNCHES ME IN THE FACE!”

Flynn swipes his arm across his chest! “I keep trying to do the right thing and getting SMACKED AROUND! NO MORE! I’m sick of PEOPLE and their IRRATIONAL decisions!”

“WE’RE FORCING PEOPLE TO LIKE ME! IT’S THE ONLY REASONABLE, GOOD CHOICE AT THIS POINT!” He slams the door to his workzone.

…

Irwin rapidly raps on the door!

“Sir, I… I do understand your frustrations! People can be inconsistent! But… maybe don’t hypnotize them into liking y-”

WHAM! The door gets kicked down again.

…

And on the other side of the door…

Is a supercharged Cherry Red Honda Fit.

Upgraded eight-cylinder engine.

”Back from the dead after NK flipped it and smashed it to pieces.” Flynn dusts his knuckles against his chest in faux modesty.

”...Oh. You’ve just been… working on repairing your car this week?”

”Repairing?” Flynn pshaws dismissively. ”I have been RESURRECTING my noble vehicular steed! Making him better than he was before… Better, stronger, faster!”

…Irwin breathes a sigh of relief.

”I’m actually thankful, sir! I thought you’d spent the whole week working on some mind control device! To… y’know… force people to like you!”

Flynn scoffs, smiling. ”Ir-dawg! Whaddya take me for? I wouldn’t waste my time tinkering making some fake mind control widget!”

Irwin smiles, nodding, pleased as punch!

”Not when I could just take a perfectly functional mind-controller from someone else!”

”Naturally!”

…

”...Wait, what?”

Flynn smiles as he presses a button on his keys twice…

The vehicle remote starts, purring like a jungle cat.

”Out there, sitting out there for anyone to take… like a jewel left in the road, is exactly what I want.”

”A tool perfectly crafted to influence weak and feeble minds into believing whatever I want.”

”And I’m using it for good. So people will finally acknowledge that I’m a GOOD GUY!”

…

”W-w-what are you talking about?”

”What else could I be talking about, Ir-dawg?”

[Image: twitter.jpg]

…

”...Actually, I think that name just changed.”

”...To what?”

[Image: image.php?id=2023&image=twitter_x]

…

”...That’s stupid.”

…

”Now, I’m just stealing it to change the name back.”

…

”And… uh… For Justice!”

***

I act.

I always have.

I speak to further my goals. I get in the head of my opponents because it makes achieving my goals easier.

But, when the mics get thrown down, that’s where I thrive.

When it comes to a battle of wills. Of minds. Of hungers.

That’s where I triumph.

Nine times out of ten.

Ninety-nine times out of one-hundred.

Because I am FULLY FOCUSED on MY SUCCESS.

…

Meanwhile, look at Reggie.

Look at MM.

…

I’m not underestimating either of my opponents..

Mastermind genuinely is one accidental Uni run short of a Legend status career. He’s NEARLY held belts in the XWF as many days as both Sebastian AND Thaddeus Duke. He’s fumbled backwards over just about every title in this business and, if he wins this match, he’d be locking down his FOURTH X-Treme title reign.

Not too fucking shabby.

…

Reggie? Ol’ Wrestler82?

He’s a wildcard. He pinned Uni champ Robert Main. He beat Cage Coleman, and that guy has more five-star matches than brain cells left!

(28, last time I checked my stats).

If he wins? He’d ALSO become a four-time X-Treme champ.

Pretty stellar record.

…

So, what’s the problem? I've got two opponents with no shortage of experience in X-Treme Title matches... Shouldn't I be shaking in my boots?

...

Lemme make it clear to you mouthbreathers why I've got this in the fucking bag.

Listen to my opponents.

Check out their promo work this week.

Whaddya notice?

...

Fairy tales.

Television binges.

These boys are living in fucking fantasy worlds.

…

Did you see MM’s promo about him being the Big Bad Wolf and me being a scared lil’ porker?

Mastermind had to craft an entire fairy tale to even IMAGINE a world where he could beat me…

…

AND THEN HE DIDN’T.

READ THE FUCKING END OF MM’S PROMO! Ol’ Kiwi chases me through a house of twigs, a house of hay, then to a bunker… THEN HE GIVES UP!

Mastermind can’t even beat Mark Flynn in a fairy tale that HE WROTE!

HOW THE FUCK IS HE GONNA BEAT ME IN THE REAL WORLD, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

…

Then, Reggie. Oooh, Reggie.

…Reggie responded in week two.

By… just kinda lifting Mastermind’s idea.

And doing his own fairytale, where I’m a bear.

…

He also opted to not give himself a role in the fairytale.

…Which, if he’s not willing to even make up a story where he faces off with me?

How the HELL is he gonna get in the ring?

…

See what I mean here?

My opponents had to abstract layers of fiction…

Animal identities…

Lost references…

But, in the end, underneath these coats of fantasy, these deviations from reality…

These Little Nemos can’t even beat Mark Flynn in their dreams.

The only place Mastermind and Reggie have even the slightest INKLING of control over their fates…

How the HELL are they gonna beat me in the real world?

Where I THRIVE.

Where I DOMINATE.

…

My opponents have to imagine FANTASTICAL WORLDS to conceive of a scenario where they can even stand toe-to-toe with me.

Let’s set aside childish things… Fairy tales…

FICTION.

Let’s talk about the real world.

Let’s talk about how MARK FLYNN PERFORMS IN THE REAL WORLD.

FACT: I became the ONLY XWF WRESTLER to defend the X-Treme Title through WarGames.

FACT: I BEAT XWF LEGEND DOCTOR LOUIS D’VILLE!

FACT: I BEAT FORMER UNI CHAMP SIDNEY GREY!

FACT: I am the ONLY X-Treme champion since the requirements change to win SEVEN matches and NOT get a briefcase.

FACT: Despite that, I am still

JUST.

ONE.

WIN.

AWAY.

From obtaining MY 24/7 XWF briefcase.

A feat Mastermind has NEVER ACHIEVED in his three X-Treme Title reigns.

A feat Reggie Estrada HAS NEVER COME NEAR in his XWF career.

Masked or otherwise.

...

You two don't even win in your little imagination playhouses.

In the real world, boys?

I’m the goddamned genuine article.

The MOTHERFUCKING FACT.

…

Reg?

MM?

Unlike you two chucklefucks.

I don’t need to dream up a world where I’m walking out Leap of Faith…

With a 24/7 briefcase.

Because I.

Will.

MAKE IT.

REALITY.
]]>
SATURDAY, JULY 22ND, 4:52 AM


The sound of drilling!

Hammering!

Nailing!

Overwhelming, catastrophic toolery tomfoolery is afoot!

”...*ahem* Hello, Mister Flynn.”

The caterwauling continues unabated.

”I just wanted to check-in and see how you’re doing on your project to… and I repeat… FORCE people to change their minds about you.”

…

Harsh, jarring dissonance.

The sounds that a midnight construction site would call its local government to complain about.

”Actually, now that we’re on that subject… I was wondering if we’d… *really* considered the full impact that… brainwashing the planet into liking you… could potentially have on your still-burgeoning ‘good guy’ brand.”

Suddenly, the sound stops.

….

…..

Irwin sucks in air. His tongue freezes so hard, his saliva drops in temperature.

He holds his breath with all his might.

…

…

The deafening clanging resumes.

…

”See, Mister Flynn… of course, I comprehend the… SHORT-TERM gains that your plan would result in. For instance, everyone would finally agree that you’re a good guy.”

“Because, you’d have brainwashed them into thinking that you’re a good guy.”

…

”And, in a vacuum, it might seem like your plan has no flaws.”

…

*cough*.

”Which, of course it doesn’t. To insinuate otherwise would be ridiculous. It’s a classic, brilliant Mark Flynn plan. Draw a straight line from point A to point B. People don’t like you? Why play these theatrical games of fake-or-real heroism when you can directly MOLD their MINDS into liking you? Inspired! Genius!”

…

”However… one might consider it prudent to consider the… long-term implications of your plan.”

…

”See, Mister Flynn, suppose there was a brief outage in your… brain-washing method. Or perhaps, some misguided hero arrived at your storage facility for this device and destroyed it! Foolishly!”

…

”Obviously, I don’t need to point out to you the possible ramifications of people falling out of a well-intended mental manipulation. We already have difficulties with your brand being associated with villainy… I don’t think we could ever recover if people believed you were a hypnotist.”

“Ha. Ha.”

…

”*ahem*”

”I suppose what I’m getting at, Mister Flynn, is this. I understand you loathe criticism. Or disapproval. Or even unenthusiastic commentary of your… schemes.”

”But… you may recall recently? When we had to save those children from… having their heads exploded? And I was, let’s say, vehemently opposed to my role of being the one actually disarming the explosives? With approximately 22 minutes of Internet training under my belt?”

“And you, Mister Flynn. You reminded me that, while we might not actually be anyone’s first choice to solve that ‘child-danger’ problem… We were the only people in position to solve it. And that made us the best people to solve it.”

“And… And by that reasoning… your reasoning! That makes me the best person to stop you from… hypnotizing the planet into unconditionally loving everything you do.”

“Even though I have fragile bones…”

“I get vertigo walking backwards and forwards…”

“I need SPF 15 sunscreen indoors…”

“I get stage fright when I see pictures of crowds in textbooks…”

“And I’m… THOROUGHLY terrified of you. Not just of you, but also of you disliking me… Because you’re my favorite wrestler AS WELL AS my greatest, personal fear.”

…

“But… sir, if I don’t step up now and say something, no one else will! Just like you said when you saved those children from Micheal Graves! If we didn’t save those kids, no one else would have!”

“And I hope you can respect me by combating my fears to bring these concerns directly to your attention! Before you warp millions of minds… or, even worse, IRREVERSIBLY DAMAGE YOUR BRAND!”

“I endlessly and all-encompassingly respect, love, fear and am in awe-slash-terror of you, sir. But, I felt I needed to say something… Immediately! Before it’s too late!”

…

“*ahem* Anyway, I hope this message-slash-plea-for-sanity finds you well.” Irwin reads, typing at his laptop, with Flynn safely doing all his hammering and thundering safely in the other room. “And I look forward to aiding you in a different…”

…

Irwin deletes the word ‘different’.

“NEW, innovative plan to further your long-term success! Sincerely, your number one fan, Irwin.”

…Irwin nods, quickly scanning his email for typos.

…None! Irwin kisses his fingertips like a master chef.

“Perfectly written.” Irwin drags his mouse over the ‘send’ button. “Now, that only leaves the acting of sending it.”

…

……

…

His finger hovers over the left-click of the mouse…

…

At the sheer thought of even potential confrontation, Irwin begins to fold like an undercooked pancake on its side…

Spine shivering, drenched in flop sweat…

…

Irwin glances at his wrist.

“My oh my, would you look at the time! I’ve let it get sooooo late!” He says aloud to no one.

There’s no watch on his wrist.

“I can’t send Mister Flynn an email like this outside of work hours! How rude!”

Irwin shakes his head, fabricating this improvisational office etiquette stageplay to an audience of none.

“I’ll have to schedule it for… *cough* tomorrow.”

…

Irwin’s finger still shakes.

“Actually, who likes reading emails so close to the weekend!” Irwin wheezes. “Let’s… let’s schedule it for Monday!”

…

“At 9:15.”

Finally, Irwin’s finger seems to relax.

Irwin clicks his mouse. Then, quickly flips tabs to notify Flynn he’ll be taking Monday off… for personal reas-

“IRWIN!” Flynn’s workdoor swings open, wielding a jackhammer!

“AHHHHHHHH! I NEVER SENT YOU AN EMAIL, SIR! I w-w-... I WAS HACKED! THE PRINCE OF NIGERIA DEMANDED I PAY SIX MILLION DOLLARS OR HE’D SEND IT!” Irwin covers his face, anticipating a walloping… or even worse, verbal cruelty!

…Flynn’s brow contorts inward in confusion. He sets down the jackhammer…

…As he removes a pair of hearing protecting headphones from his ears.

”Hang on, Ir-dawg.” Flynn runs his pinky around his inner ear, squinting as he does. ”There we go.” Flynn sniffs. ”Now, what were you saying?”

”Nothing!” Irwin immediately shoots back, hairs standing on the back of his neck.

…

Flynn shrugs.

”Alright.”

…

Flynn turns around to go back inside his workshop. Irwin breathes a sigh of relief.

”OH, THAT’S RIGHT!” Flynn snaps his fingers.

Irwin immediately hits the floor in the fetal position!

Flynn ignores this, standing over Irwin and picking his henchman up by the scruff of his neck.

”OH GOD!” Irwin squeals. His body alternates between trying to soil itself, playing dead and feigning a heart attack… All the different ways members of the rodentia family try to make predators feel sorry for them.

”Irmano.” Flynn clears his throat, looking Irwin in the eye.

…

”Uh… Sorry about the noise.”

…

”...Pardon?”

Flynn checks his watch. ”It’s 4AM. That’s when I get my best drilling done… But, I imagine the noise might be… a little much, right?”

…

Irwin pssshes heartily. ”Whaaaaaaat? Noooooooo.” Irwin says, refusing to bring up the fact that he hasn’t been able to sleep for three days. ”I don’t mind it at all! Sir, if anything, I wish it was louder!”

…

Flynn’s brow twists confused.

”...You want it… Louder?”

Oh no.

”Oh, yes!”

…Flynn scratches his head.

”...Look, my tools aren’t instruments, Earwig. I can’t just plug a jackhammer into an amp and make it louder…”

…

Flynn rubs his chin, looking up thoughtfully.

”...Well, actually, maybe I could. Just a quick adapter port on my jackhammer, some minor electrical circuitry. If you really want, I *could* make it louder?”

Please don’t.

”Please do!”

…

Flynn shrugs, dispassionately.

”Alright.”

…

Flynn turns around, re-entering his work area.

…The very moment that the door closes behind Flynn…

Irwin falls on his hands and knees.

”You small coward. You absolute cretin.” The small pasty nerd shouts at himself.

He ineffectually winds up his fists to slam them on the ground!

…

Before he remembers his forearms bruise easily…

…

With a sneer, he bends hisc middle finger against his thumb… And flicks the ground!

…Ooh, his nail chips.

Irwin blows on the end of his finger, seizing in pain! He shakes his head!

”Just say it! Just March in there and tell him, for his own good…. Mark Flynn, you are a POWERHUNGRY MANIAC AN-”

Suddenly, the door swings back open! “IRWIN!”

Irwin chokes on his spit, reeling back his neck in fear! He coughs his airway open, only so he can immediately beg for mercy!

“Mister Flynn! I-I-I was just… writing the first verse of a musical of your rise to the top!” Irwin begin snapping out of rhythm. “Mark Flynnnn, you’re a… *cough* powerFUL… maaaaaan.”

“Hang on.” Flynn turns his head toward Irwin, revealing a phone pressed to his chest.

“Ir-nesto, could you hold off your… musical endeavors? I’m on the phone.”

Irwin shuts up so fast, so hard.

Flynn sticks up a thumb, before turning back to the phone.

“Much better. Talk to me, Nedidiah.”

…

“Yeah huh.”

…

“Yeah huh.”

…

Flynn spins and looks back toward his work area.

“…Sure, sure. I’m just… in the middle of something.”

…

Flynn rests a forearm against the doorway.

“No, yeah. Yep, yep, yep.”

…

Flynn sneers, irritatedly.

“No, of COURSE, I WANT to.”

…

Flynn nods his head indignantly!

“YEAH. I’ve been LOOKING FORWARD TO IT, IN FACT.”

…

…Flynn clears his throat.

“…No, okay, wrong choice of words… I’m… somberly eager… to get this over with.”

…

Flynn exhales.

“GOD, WHATEVER, I’LL BE THERE.”

Flynn hangs up.

…

Flynn wraps his head in his hands.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

…

“Irwin, C’mere.” Flynn snaps his fingers twice. “Need your thoughts.”

Irwin takes this as permission to make noise once more. He bows at the neck.

“Absolutely, sir. Is it about your mind control operation? Because I had some… potential concerns. Point on-”

“What? No, not that. Something else.”

…Flynn groans.

“Ned wants me to…” Flynn snorts. “Meet with Lilabeth’s parents.”

“Ah.” Irwin nods. “By Lilabeth, you mean the young terminally ill girl that you accide-...”

…Flynn turns to Irwin with a cold stare.

“I MEAN.” Irwin clears his throat. “The one Micheal Graves intentionally exploded.”

Flynn hits Irwin with an affable finger-gun. “Bingo. See, here’s the issue…”

…

“What, exactly, are you supposed to say… to someone… y’know… after you play a NOT-INSIGNIFICANT role… in exploding their child?”

…

Irwin sputters his lips for a few moments, lost. “I mean, that’s a tough one, sir. They don’t make greeting cards for that sort of event.”

“I know.” Flynn scratches the back of his head. “I checked.”

Flynn exhales.

“This is dumb. STUPID! Why the HELL does Ned want me to speak to these people? There’s no CONCRETE OBJECTIVE to comforting these people!” Flynn barks.

“W-W-what do you mean, sir?”

“No endgame success! Nothing I say will do ANYTHING to actually HELP these peopl! And I HATE THAT! I don’t believe in empty words, Ir-dawg! I’m a doer, not a speaker!”

Irwin smiles uncomfortably caught between his urge to compliment Flynn and his fear of correcting him. “B-b-but, sir! You love speaking! You’re one of the greatest promo-deliverers in wrestling history!” Irwin bleats, the former urger winning over the latter.

“That’s DIFFERENT.” Flynn spits. “I’m SPEAKING about how I’m going to DOMINATE my opponent. This is…” Flynn sighs. “A different kind of talking. There’s nothing to do. Lilabeth is dead.” …Flynn sighs. “And I fucked up saving her.”

…

Irwin softens. If Irwin weren’t terrified of Flynn, he’d rest a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

…

Instead, he stays about six feet away. (Which is pretty close by Irwin’s standards.)

“...Sorry, sir. That’s tough.”

…

Flynn’s ears perk.

“What was that, Ir-man?”

…Irwin clears his throat.

“I said ‘sorry’, sir. That’s not a great predicament… So, I said… sorry.”

“SORRY!” Flynn grins, snapping his fingers! “OF COURSE! THAT’S WHAT I SAY! SORRY! That’s true AND I’m DOING something. I’m APOLOGIZING!”

…Irwin shrugs.

“Uh… yes! Good idea!” Irwin extends a fist into a thumbs-up!

Flynn fistbumps it! “YOUR Good idea, Irmano!”

…Irwin is glowing red! This is the second time in two days that Flynn credited him with an idea he had. (That also makes for two times in total.)

“DUH! Brilliant in its simplicity!” Flynn bows his head, mournfully. “I’m sorry for your loss! I’m sorry for your pain.”

Flynn snaps his fingers!

“Oooooh! Then, a check! For THEIR LOSS! That’s another thing I can do! I can pay for their expenses!” Flynn pumps his fist! “A big NOVELTY CHECK! The size of a goddamn SUBARU!”

…

Irwin clears his throat.

“Sir, if I may, I think a novelty check might be… inappropriate.”

…

Flynn fehs.

“Ugh, you might be right, Ir-dawg. Let’s go regular check…”

…

“But, I’ll bring a spare in the backseat, in case I get there and the vibe is right for a giant check.”

…

Flynn disappears back inside his work area.

…

Irwin scratches his head.

“Uhhh… sir? Are y-?”

BAM! A second later, Flynn is out, dressed to the nines for a black tie affair.

“Y’know, Irwinner.” Flynn nods, tightening his tie around his throat. “A minute ago, I was thinking this would be a disaster… But, after your wise council.” Flynn beams. “I’m gonna knock giving my condolences OUTTA THE FUCKIN’ PARK!”

Irwin nods! “Absolutely!”

***

24 Hours Later…


Irwin is sweeping the storage unit calmly, whistling cheerfully.

WHAM! The door to Flynn’s storage unit is kicked open!

Irwin jogs forward happily!

“Mister Flynn, how did it g-”

SMACK! A large novelty check hits Irwin square in the forehead (mostly harmlessly, it’s pretty light!) It falls to the floor!

Flynn stumbles in… his nice black suit torn at the collar… Sporting a purple bruise on his cheek.

”NED PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!”

…

”...P-p-p-pardon?”

”NED. KAYE. PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!”

Flynn marches across the storage unit, slamming the door to his work area.

…

Irwin carefully creeps up and knocks once.

”S-s-s-sir? Do you… wanna talk about it?”

SWIP! The door slips open! And Flynn’s face is red! (in anger, humiliation and because of light bruising)

”Lilabeth’s mom, Nancy, did NOT want an apology. She did NOT want my money.” Flynn sneers, furiously. ”She didn’t even want to see me AT ALL! She said she wanted nothing to do with me!”

Irwin is nauseous with terror! ”I-I-I’m so sorry, sir! I… My idea was awful!”

…

Flynn shakes his head, shrugging. ”...Well, actually, no, honestly, all that was fine. Nance, Lilabeth’s mom, said she didn’t hate me.” Flynn scratches his chin. “Which, honestly, I gotta call a win.”

…After a moment, Irwin shrugs. “That is, in fact, better than the average person reacts to you, sir.”

“Then, GET THIS! Lilabeth’s dad, Bill actually thanked me for killing Gravy! Said I did the right thing!”

…

Irwin’s eyes squint. “Wait, but you’ve said you didn’t kill Gravy.”

“Exactly, Gravy blew himself up. But ol’ Billy Boy thanked me for it! Said I did the right thing.”

“Well.” Irwin smiles. “That sounds like two for two!”

“I KNOW! I FUCKING NAILED IT!” Flynn howls! “Then, we get outside, I tell Ned thanks for making me do that and that I appreciate the lesson.” Flynn shakes his head. “Then, NED PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!”

“B-b-but, why?”

“I DUNNO! He starts in about how selfish I am…”

“Selfish?”

“That I thought our meeting was all about me! It was supposed to be about the parents!”

“...Well, that’s not a *bad* point, sir.” Irwin mutters. “Shouldn’t it be about their needs?”

“If it should… WHY DID WE EVEN GO THERE, IRWIN?!?” Flynn slurs out. “They didn’t even invite us! Ned insisted on forcing this meeting to happen so *I* could apologize! If it wasn’t about me, and it wasn’t about them, who the FUCK was it for?!?”

…Irwin clears his throat.

“Well, I… I suppose I understand your confusion, sir. Sounds like an overreaction on Ned’s part to punch you in the face over just that...”

…

Flynn scratches his head.

“...Well, there was one other thing…”

“Oh?”

“Ned was mad… saying I… took justice into my own hands. That I acted like Gravy’s judge, jury and executioner! But I didn’t even KILL Gravy!”

“...But, Lilabeth’s dad did thank you for killing him?”

“Correct, yes, Irwin. Which, y’know, that’s fine…”

“But, then Ned hit you for killing him.”

“WHICH I DIDN’T DO.”

…

“Well…” Irwin says, not sure how to confront Flynn with the fact that he’s okay being thanked for something he didn’t do, but not okay with being criticized for it. “Maybe Ned wants you to… do better? And… next time, you co-?”

“Next time, I should do WHAT better, Irwin?!?” Flynn spits. “I stop a yakuza robbery in Japan, people boo me. I save six kids from being exploded in Sacramento, people BOO ME LOUDER! I do EXACTLY what Ned wants, apologizing to parents WHO DON’T EVEN WANT AN APOLOGY and ol’ Neddy PUNCHES ME IN THE FACE!”

Flynn swipes his arm across his chest! “I keep trying to do the right thing and getting SMACKED AROUND! NO MORE! I’m sick of PEOPLE and their IRRATIONAL decisions!”

“WE’RE FORCING PEOPLE TO LIKE ME! IT’S THE ONLY REASONABLE, GOOD CHOICE AT THIS POINT!” He slams the door to his workzone.

…

Irwin rapidly raps on the door!

“Sir, I… I do understand your frustrations! People can be inconsistent! But… maybe don’t hypnotize them into liking y-”

WHAM! The door gets kicked down again.

…

And on the other side of the door…

Is a supercharged Cherry Red Honda Fit.

Upgraded eight-cylinder engine.

”Back from the dead after NK flipped it and smashed it to pieces.” Flynn dusts his knuckles against his chest in faux modesty.

”...Oh. You’ve just been… working on repairing your car this week?”

”Repairing?” Flynn pshaws dismissively. ”I have been RESURRECTING my noble vehicular steed! Making him better than he was before… Better, stronger, faster!”

…Irwin breathes a sigh of relief.

”I’m actually thankful, sir! I thought you’d spent the whole week working on some mind control device! To… y’know… force people to like you!”

Flynn scoffs, smiling. ”Ir-dawg! Whaddya take me for? I wouldn’t waste my time tinkering making some fake mind control widget!”

Irwin smiles, nodding, pleased as punch!

”Not when I could just take a perfectly functional mind-controller from someone else!”

”Naturally!”

…

”...Wait, what?”

Flynn smiles as he presses a button on his keys twice…

The vehicle remote starts, purring like a jungle cat.

”Out there, sitting out there for anyone to take… like a jewel left in the road, is exactly what I want.”

”A tool perfectly crafted to influence weak and feeble minds into believing whatever I want.”

”And I’m using it for good. So people will finally acknowledge that I’m a GOOD GUY!”

…

”W-w-what are you talking about?”

”What else could I be talking about, Ir-dawg?”

[Image: twitter.jpg]

…

”...Actually, I think that name just changed.”

”...To what?”

[Image: image.php?id=2023&image=twitter_x]

…

”...That’s stupid.”

…

”Now, I’m just stealing it to change the name back.”

…

”And… uh… For Justice!”

***

I act.

I always have.

I speak to further my goals. I get in the head of my opponents because it makes achieving my goals easier.

But, when the mics get thrown down, that’s where I thrive.

When it comes to a battle of wills. Of minds. Of hungers.

That’s where I triumph.

Nine times out of ten.

Ninety-nine times out of one-hundred.

Because I am FULLY FOCUSED on MY SUCCESS.

…

Meanwhile, look at Reggie.

Look at MM.

…

I’m not underestimating either of my opponents..

Mastermind genuinely is one accidental Uni run short of a Legend status career. He’s NEARLY held belts in the XWF as many days as both Sebastian AND Thaddeus Duke. He’s fumbled backwards over just about every title in this business and, if he wins this match, he’d be locking down his FOURTH X-Treme title reign.

Not too fucking shabby.

…

Reggie? Ol’ Wrestler82?

He’s a wildcard. He pinned Uni champ Robert Main. He beat Cage Coleman, and that guy has more five-star matches than brain cells left!

(28, last time I checked my stats).

If he wins? He’d ALSO become a four-time X-Treme champ.

Pretty stellar record.

…

So, what’s the problem? I've got two opponents with no shortage of experience in X-Treme Title matches... Shouldn't I be shaking in my boots?

...

Lemme make it clear to you mouthbreathers why I've got this in the fucking bag.

Listen to my opponents.

Check out their promo work this week.

Whaddya notice?

...

Fairy tales.

Television binges.

These boys are living in fucking fantasy worlds.

…

Did you see MM’s promo about him being the Big Bad Wolf and me being a scared lil’ porker?

Mastermind had to craft an entire fairy tale to even IMAGINE a world where he could beat me…

…

AND THEN HE DIDN’T.

READ THE FUCKING END OF MM’S PROMO! Ol’ Kiwi chases me through a house of twigs, a house of hay, then to a bunker… THEN HE GIVES UP!

Mastermind can’t even beat Mark Flynn in a fairy tale that HE WROTE!

HOW THE FUCK IS HE GONNA BEAT ME IN THE REAL WORLD, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

…

Then, Reggie. Oooh, Reggie.

…Reggie responded in week two.

By… just kinda lifting Mastermind’s idea.

And doing his own fairytale, where I’m a bear.

…

He also opted to not give himself a role in the fairytale.

…Which, if he’s not willing to even make up a story where he faces off with me?

How the HELL is he gonna get in the ring?

…

See what I mean here?

My opponents had to abstract layers of fiction…

Animal identities…

Lost references…

But, in the end, underneath these coats of fantasy, these deviations from reality…

These Little Nemos can’t even beat Mark Flynn in their dreams.

The only place Mastermind and Reggie have even the slightest INKLING of control over their fates…

How the HELL are they gonna beat me in the real world?

Where I THRIVE.

Where I DOMINATE.

…

My opponents have to imagine FANTASTICAL WORLDS to conceive of a scenario where they can even stand toe-to-toe with me.

Let’s set aside childish things… Fairy tales…

FICTION.

Let’s talk about the real world.

Let’s talk about how MARK FLYNN PERFORMS IN THE REAL WORLD.

FACT: I became the ONLY XWF WRESTLER to defend the X-Treme Title through WarGames.

FACT: I BEAT XWF LEGEND DOCTOR LOUIS D’VILLE!

FACT: I BEAT FORMER UNI CHAMP SIDNEY GREY!

FACT: I am the ONLY X-Treme champion since the requirements change to win SEVEN matches and NOT get a briefcase.

FACT: Despite that, I am still

JUST.

ONE.

WIN.

AWAY.

From obtaining MY 24/7 XWF briefcase.

A feat Mastermind has NEVER ACHIEVED in his three X-Treme Title reigns.

A feat Reggie Estrada HAS NEVER COME NEAR in his XWF career.

Masked or otherwise.

...

You two don't even win in your little imagination playhouses.

In the real world, boys?

I’m the goddamned genuine article.

The MOTHERFUCKING FACT.

…

Reg?

MM?

Unlike you two chucklefucks.

I don’t need to dream up a world where I’m walking out Leap of Faith…

With a 24/7 briefcase.

Because I.

Will.

MAKE IT.

REALITY.
]]> <![CDATA[The Winds of Change are blowing through the XWF]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46632 Sat, 29 Jul 2023 15:54:38 -0700 Mastermind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46632
"It's been a long road,
getting from there to here.

It's been a long time,
but my time is finally near.

And I can feel the change
in the wind right now.

Nothing's in my way,
And they're not gonna hold
me down no more, no
they're not going to hold me
down.

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




it has been a long road to get from the last time that I held the Xtreme title until now.  4 years ago to be exact.  2019.  Before all hell broke loose in the world in 2020, and everything that went with it.    It has certainly been a long time, but the time to reach for the stars and grab that title that I love so much again, has finally drawn near.

And once I have done that, win the title back, I will be the wind of change that is dreadfully needed to take the x-treme title to new heights after Mark Flynn's strong defense with it.  His time is over.

Nothing is going to be in my way, and that includes Mark Flynn and Reggie Estrada.  They won't hold me down, because I won't let them hold me down, and I  will fight my hardest to get my hands back on the X-treme Title,



"Cause I've got
faith of the heart,
I'm going where my
heart will take me,

I've got faith to
believe. I can do
anything.

I've got strength of the
soul.  And no one's gonna
bend or break me.

I can reach any star.
I've got faith, faith of the heart."

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




And you want to know how I can win the x-treme title back?  Because I've got faith that I can get it back.  Deep down inside me my heart says I can beat Mark Flynn and Reggie Estrada to win back the title that I have held 3 times before.  I can believe I can do anything to win it back. 

I have strength of my inner self that I can win, and so I believe no one is going to break me, or bend my will, they can try but they won't be able to.

If I have to, if I am lying on my back, beaten to a pulp, I will reach up and reach to the skies to get more energy, to get my faith back that I can.  Then I will draw inspiration from within.


"It's been a long night.
Trying to find my way.

Been through the darkness.  Now I
finally have my day.

And I will see my
dream come alive the
last.  I will touch the sky.

And they're not gonna hold
me down no more, no they're
not gonna change my mind.

Cause I've got:
Faith of the heart."

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




The days and nights have been long, since I last held that x-treme title.  The days and nights have been long, as I stumble through time without that title, without the thing that means so much to me.  I've been through the darkness, now I finally feel that i will have my day in court, it's called the ring, and it's at Leap of Faith 2023 that I reclaim the x-treme title.

And then I will hold it up to the sky and show the stars that my dream has returned, fully alive.  Estrada and Flynn will not hold me down, no longer will they torment me.  They aren't going to change my mind of quitting or receiving the 3 count, because I have the one thing the strongest out of the three of us.  Faith.  My Faith of the heart, is the strongest and it will prevail, and I will prevail.


"I'm going where my
heart will take me.

I've got faith to
believe I can do
anything.

I've got strength of the
soul. And no one's gonna
bend or break me.

I can reach any star.
I've got faith, faith of the
heart.

I've known the wind so cold.
I've seen the darkest days.

But now the winds I feel,
are only the winds of change.

I've been through the
fire, and I've been
through the rain.

But I'll be fine.
Cause
I've got faith of the heart.
And I'm going where my
heart will take me.

I've got faith to believe.
I can do anything.
I've got strength of the soul,
and no ones gonna bend
or break me.

I can reach any star.
I've got the faith.
The faith of the Heart."

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




My heart is leading me back to the x-treme title.  I want it for a fourth time.  Because I know I have the faith to win it for that elusive 4th time.  Knowing that I have the faith, I know I can do anything.

I have felt the winds that are cold, that has kept this place down for so long, I've been through my darkest days, but now I feel that the winds they are a blowing, and with that comes change.  Times will be a changing.

I've been through hell and back, the fires of hell, and I've often felt like I've been drowning in the sea of the XWF.  But come Leap of Faith I will reach for the stars, and I will reach for that x-treme title, and find the strength within me, within my soul, within my hear to pull me back to the surface and beyond, to touch the x-treme title, and win it back.    No one and I mean no one is going to bend or break me.

Because I fully believe I have the faith within me, to win.  The faith of my heart.


FRIDAY 28TH JULY 2023
TOP OF THE EIFLE TOWER
PARIS, FRANCE

The camera fades in on top of the Eifle Tower, showing Mastermind sitting down watching the people below walking around doing their own thing.    He knows the camera is on him but he isn't looking at it.  But he speaks.

[i]"Can you all feel the breeze?  It's really strong up here on top of the Eiffle Tower.  It's almost as strong as fully blown gale.  It feels like the gales mean change.    Winds are change are flowing through the air.    You see in 48 hours time is the Leap of Faith Pay Per View.    And I'm in the match to fight for the X-treme Title.  That title means so much to me because I've held it 3 times before.    I very much want it to be a 4th time.  And I truly believe that it'll take an enormous effort to pry it away from Mark Flynn.  But you all want to know something?"

Mastermind turns around and looks at the camera.

"I AM GOING TO BE THE X-TREME CHAMPION - FOR A 4TH TIME."

Mastermind settles himself down to let his fans and those watching digest what he has just said.

"I have belief, I have faith, and I have knowledge, to become the x-treme champion for a 4th time.  I know Reggie Estrada and Mark Flynn do not have the belief in me, that I can make a difference, but I can assure them that I can make a difference and I will.

"Reggie Estrade seems to have few words for me in his first promo for this PPV, that's okay.  It means he certainly does not know much about me, so he'll say what ever he can say to make it sound worthwhile.    I've got news for him.  It was lacking with substance, and grit.  It gave nothing much away than to say he knows nothing at all.  He wants to shed some blood.  So be it.  It'll be his blood at the end of the night will be shed, because he will be all bloodied and beaten, but I will be the one to be holding the x-treme title up.

"You want to make me suffer Reggie?  Try it out and see where you get.  You are not on any level, I am above you, just like I am above you at the top of the Eiffle Tower.  You are somewhere around Paris getting ready for the Leap of Faith Pay Per View, and you've already been outed, as I've gotten on top of you litterallly,"

Mastermind smirks his infamous smirk.  Then he turns serious again.

"I won't take you lightly though Reggie, but are a non factor in this match.  My main concern is you Mark Flynn.  You will say or do anything to keep a hold of that title because the reason we all know now is just to reach the bloody stip that once you've held the title for so long you earn a Briefcase.  Is that all you are after?  The prestige of the Belt and keeping it is what you should be after, not a bloody Briefcase.  We all know you can win a title at any given time.  The idea of doing it is with a briefcase is its just a waste of time, and a waste of a briefcase.  I'd rather keep the X-treme title.

"To me that shows disrespect.  Disrespect fof the title, for the lineage, and for everyone else who has been trying to win it for the first time in like ever.  You want to use it to get the briefcase, and then toss it aside like it means nothing.  I know you feel nothing for it, because it shows.  You are a disrespectul son of a bitch.    Come Sunday, come tomorrow that disrespect will make you lose the title.  I'm ready to take it away from you.

"You talk about my t-shirts.  You think it's funny, but thank you for showing some of them.  Thank you for advertising them.  Just thank you for even thinking that you are on the same level as me.  Because you showed my t-shirts in your promo Mark, means that  deep down inside In am well and truly in your head, and that you don't know what to do about it, henche showing my t-shirts and blabbing on about things that no one really cares about because you didn't come up with yourself, you copied.  You are a famous copy cat Mark Flynn.  And I've just proved it.

"You think I haven't changed in 10 years since I started in the XWF?  I've changed very much and I will show you that when I take that title you care very little about and hang it over you once the bell sounds to end the match.  Then you won't get anywhere near to that precious little briefcase stip that you want so much,"

Mastermind stands up and walks over to the side of the Eiffle Tower and looks down to the ground.  He turns back and looks at the camera, as he casually steps over the railings.

"Winds of change are blowing towards Leap of Faith, Reggie, Mark, and it means change.  The change is a change of x-treme champion.  It's been a wild road with Mark as champion.  He won it in some xtraordinary way from my stable mate Kris.  Pulled out some crap story, and won the title.  Kris is still fuming.  I am still fuming.  And I will use the winds of change to make sure that you lose the one that you wish to take,  It's not keeping the xtreme, it's wanting to take the briefcase.

"I won't let you have it Mark.  I won't let Reggie stop you.  Because I'm going to take it myself.  Then keep a hold of it for as long as possible.  I have faith that I can beat you Mark.    I know it, I know you know it, and I know Reggie knows it.  It's been far too long between drinks for me.    I have the strength to do it.    I will reach the stars and I will believe in my faith to take you out.  The time is coming Mark.  The time is coming Reggie.    Believe it or not.  I'll see you at Leap of Faith guys.  I'll be the one taking the leap, and using my faith within me, to believe I can become the next X-treme Champion,"

Mastermind starts grinning, and then starts cackling, as he hears the security guards finally take notice of him being over the railings, and as they are yelling at him in French, Mastermind takes one big long step, and jumps.  The camera quickly moves to the railings and tries to find Mastermind.  But he is nowhere to be seen.]]>
"It's been a long road,
getting from there to here.

It's been a long time,
but my time is finally near.

And I can feel the change
in the wind right now.

Nothing's in my way,
And they're not gonna hold
me down no more, no
they're not going to hold me
down.

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




it has been a long road to get from the last time that I held the Xtreme title until now.  4 years ago to be exact.  2019.  Before all hell broke loose in the world in 2020, and everything that went with it.    It has certainly been a long time, but the time to reach for the stars and grab that title that I love so much again, has finally drawn near.

And once I have done that, win the title back, I will be the wind of change that is dreadfully needed to take the x-treme title to new heights after Mark Flynn's strong defense with it.  His time is over.

Nothing is going to be in my way, and that includes Mark Flynn and Reggie Estrada.  They won't hold me down, because I won't let them hold me down, and I  will fight my hardest to get my hands back on the X-treme Title,



"Cause I've got
faith of the heart,
I'm going where my
heart will take me,

I've got faith to
believe. I can do
anything.

I've got strength of the
soul.  And no one's gonna
bend or break me.

I can reach any star.
I've got faith, faith of the heart."

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




And you want to know how I can win the x-treme title back?  Because I've got faith that I can get it back.  Deep down inside me my heart says I can beat Mark Flynn and Reggie Estrada to win back the title that I have held 3 times before.  I can believe I can do anything to win it back. 

I have strength of my inner self that I can win, and so I believe no one is going to break me, or bend my will, they can try but they won't be able to.

If I have to, if I am lying on my back, beaten to a pulp, I will reach up and reach to the skies to get more energy, to get my faith back that I can.  Then I will draw inspiration from within.


"It's been a long night.
Trying to find my way.

Been through the darkness.  Now I
finally have my day.

And I will see my
dream come alive the
last.  I will touch the sky.

And they're not gonna hold
me down no more, no they're
not gonna change my mind.

Cause I've got:
Faith of the heart."

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




The days and nights have been long, since I last held that x-treme title.  The days and nights have been long, as I stumble through time without that title, without the thing that means so much to me.  I've been through the darkness, now I finally feel that i will have my day in court, it's called the ring, and it's at Leap of Faith 2023 that I reclaim the x-treme title.

And then I will hold it up to the sky and show the stars that my dream has returned, fully alive.  Estrada and Flynn will not hold me down, no longer will they torment me.  They aren't going to change my mind of quitting or receiving the 3 count, because I have the one thing the strongest out of the three of us.  Faith.  My Faith of the heart, is the strongest and it will prevail, and I will prevail.


"I'm going where my
heart will take me.

I've got faith to
believe I can do
anything.

I've got strength of the
soul. And no one's gonna
bend or break me.

I can reach any star.
I've got faith, faith of the
heart.

I've known the wind so cold.
I've seen the darkest days.

But now the winds I feel,
are only the winds of change.

I've been through the
fire, and I've been
through the rain.

But I'll be fine.
Cause
I've got faith of the heart.
And I'm going where my
heart will take me.

I've got faith to believe.
I can do anything.
I've got strength of the soul,
and no ones gonna bend
or break me.

I can reach any star.
I've got the faith.
The faith of the Heart."

'Lyrics to: Faith of my heart
By Russel Watson'




My heart is leading me back to the x-treme title.  I want it for a fourth time.  Because I know I have the faith to win it for that elusive 4th time.  Knowing that I have the faith, I know I can do anything.

I have felt the winds that are cold, that has kept this place down for so long, I've been through my darkest days, but now I feel that the winds they are a blowing, and with that comes change.  Times will be a changing.

I've been through hell and back, the fires of hell, and I've often felt like I've been drowning in the sea of the XWF.  But come Leap of Faith I will reach for the stars, and I will reach for that x-treme title, and find the strength within me, within my soul, within my hear to pull me back to the surface and beyond, to touch the x-treme title, and win it back.    No one and I mean no one is going to bend or break me.

Because I fully believe I have the faith within me, to win.  The faith of my heart.


FRIDAY 28TH JULY 2023
TOP OF THE EIFLE TOWER
PARIS, FRANCE

The camera fades in on top of the Eifle Tower, showing Mastermind sitting down watching the people below walking around doing their own thing.    He knows the camera is on him but he isn't looking at it.  But he speaks.

[i]"Can you all feel the breeze?  It's really strong up here on top of the Eiffle Tower.  It's almost as strong as fully blown gale.  It feels like the gales mean change.    Winds are change are flowing through the air.    You see in 48 hours time is the Leap of Faith Pay Per View.    And I'm in the match to fight for the X-treme Title.  That title means so much to me because I've held it 3 times before.    I very much want it to be a 4th time.  And I truly believe that it'll take an enormous effort to pry it away from Mark Flynn.  But you all want to know something?"

Mastermind turns around and looks at the camera.

"I AM GOING TO BE THE X-TREME CHAMPION - FOR A 4TH TIME."

Mastermind settles himself down to let his fans and those watching digest what he has just said.

"I have belief, I have faith, and I have knowledge, to become the x-treme champion for a 4th time.  I know Reggie Estrada and Mark Flynn do not have the belief in me, that I can make a difference, but I can assure them that I can make a difference and I will.

"Reggie Estrade seems to have few words for me in his first promo for this PPV, that's okay.  It means he certainly does not know much about me, so he'll say what ever he can say to make it sound worthwhile.    I've got news for him.  It was lacking with substance, and grit.  It gave nothing much away than to say he knows nothing at all.  He wants to shed some blood.  So be it.  It'll be his blood at the end of the night will be shed, because he will be all bloodied and beaten, but I will be the one to be holding the x-treme title up.

"You want to make me suffer Reggie?  Try it out and see where you get.  You are not on any level, I am above you, just like I am above you at the top of the Eiffle Tower.  You are somewhere around Paris getting ready for the Leap of Faith Pay Per View, and you've already been outed, as I've gotten on top of you litterallly,"

Mastermind smirks his infamous smirk.  Then he turns serious again.

"I won't take you lightly though Reggie, but are a non factor in this match.  My main concern is you Mark Flynn.  You will say or do anything to keep a hold of that title because the reason we all know now is just to reach the bloody stip that once you've held the title for so long you earn a Briefcase.  Is that all you are after?  The prestige of the Belt and keeping it is what you should be after, not a bloody Briefcase.  We all know you can win a title at any given time.  The idea of doing it is with a briefcase is its just a waste of time, and a waste of a briefcase.  I'd rather keep the X-treme title.

"To me that shows disrespect.  Disrespect fof the title, for the lineage, and for everyone else who has been trying to win it for the first time in like ever.  You want to use it to get the briefcase, and then toss it aside like it means nothing.  I know you feel nothing for it, because it shows.  You are a disrespectul son of a bitch.    Come Sunday, come tomorrow that disrespect will make you lose the title.  I'm ready to take it away from you.

"You talk about my t-shirts.  You think it's funny, but thank you for showing some of them.  Thank you for advertising them.  Just thank you for even thinking that you are on the same level as me.  Because you showed my t-shirts in your promo Mark, means that  deep down inside In am well and truly in your head, and that you don't know what to do about it, henche showing my t-shirts and blabbing on about things that no one really cares about because you didn't come up with yourself, you copied.  You are a famous copy cat Mark Flynn.  And I've just proved it.

"You think I haven't changed in 10 years since I started in the XWF?  I've changed very much and I will show you that when I take that title you care very little about and hang it over you once the bell sounds to end the match.  Then you won't get anywhere near to that precious little briefcase stip that you want so much,"

Mastermind stands up and walks over to the side of the Eiffle Tower and looks down to the ground.  He turns back and looks at the camera, as he casually steps over the railings.

"Winds of change are blowing towards Leap of Faith, Reggie, Mark, and it means change.  The change is a change of x-treme champion.  It's been a wild road with Mark as champion.  He won it in some xtraordinary way from my stable mate Kris.  Pulled out some crap story, and won the title.  Kris is still fuming.  I am still fuming.  And I will use the winds of change to make sure that you lose the one that you wish to take,  It's not keeping the xtreme, it's wanting to take the briefcase.

"I won't let you have it Mark.  I won't let Reggie stop you.  Because I'm going to take it myself.  Then keep a hold of it for as long as possible.  I have faith that I can beat you Mark.    I know it, I know you know it, and I know Reggie knows it.  It's been far too long between drinks for me.    I have the strength to do it.    I will reach the stars and I will believe in my faith to take you out.  The time is coming Mark.  The time is coming Reggie.    Believe it or not.  I'll see you at Leap of Faith guys.  I'll be the one taking the leap, and using my faith within me, to believe I can become the next X-treme Champion,"

Mastermind starts grinning, and then starts cackling, as he hears the security guards finally take notice of him being over the railings, and as they are yelling at him in French, Mastermind takes one big long step, and jumps.  The camera quickly moves to the railings and tries to find Mastermind.  But he is nowhere to be seen.]]> <![CDATA[EDWARD AND OZ in: Arc 'n A Hard Place]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46622 Fri, 28 Jul 2023 16:42:06 -0700 EDWARD THE GREAT]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46622
In the wake of Anarchy...

[Image: ezgif-2-e4d25a861e.gif]

With his innocent companions callously slaughtered by the wicked Mr. Oz, EDWARD, dressed in rawhide and hardened muscle, found himself sitting inside of a cavern concealed by nature. 

The shallow graves of his Ape Friends laid neatly before him.

Soaked to the bone, EDWARD ran his hands across one of the muddy graves before pressing himself to his feet. 

"...you destroy ape friends..."

"...you unleash darkness and pain upon innocent..."

"...edward not forget..."












...














"EDWARD NOT FORGIVE!"

"EDWARD BURY FRIENDS..." 

"TODAY DAY OF SORROW."

EDWARD hung his head low.

"OZ THINK THIS MAKE EDWARD SCARED, MAKE EDWARD SURRENDER SHINY. BUT OZ WRONG!"

Raising back up with a fiery vengeance burning in his eyes.

"OZ, YOU PATHETIC SHADOW OF MAN, YOU WALK IN CIRCLE! EDWARD SEE YOU, HAUNTED AND CONFUSED, CHANGING SHAPE LIKE SNAKE SHED SKIN!"

"EDWARD REMEMBER YOU AS GHOST TANK. BIG AND STRONG, YET FRAGILE AND LOST! YOU TRY TO BE POWERFUL WARRIOR, BUT YOU BREAK! YOU SHATTER LIKE THIN ICE UNDER EDWARD'S CRUSHING FOOT!"

"BROKEN FROM THEN ON!"

"MAKE YOU CHANGE!"

"MAKE YOU EVEN WEAKER!"

"EVEN MORE PATHETIC!"

"EDWARD LAUGH AT FLOATING CLOWN!"

"YOU PAINT FACE, YOU JUGGLE TRICKS, YOU HIDE BEHIND MASK, BUT YOU CAN'T FOOL EDWARD!"

"NO! EDWARD SEE PAST PAINT, SEE THROUGH TRICKS, SEE BEYOND MASK! EDWARD SEE FEAR! EDWARD SEE WEAKNESS! EDWARD SEE MAN LOST!"

"THEN YOU CALL YOURSELF OZWALD, BUT STILL, YOU NOT KNOW WHO YOU ARE! YOU JUST EMPTY NAME WITH EMPTY SHINY!"

"HOLLOW MAN! YOU WEAK, CONFUSED, LOST!"

"...AND THAT WHAT MAKE YOU DANGEROUS!"

"EDWARD KNOW ABOUT INNER BATTLE."

"HEAR ABOUT DEMON FIGHTING FOR CONTROL."

"THAT DEMON WIN, OZ!"

"IT WIN BECAUSE YOU NO HAVE STRENGTH TO FIGHT!"

"YOU NO HAVE COURAGE TO STAND UP!"

"EDWARD KNOW! BECAUSE ONLY DEMON COULD DO WHAT YOU DO TO EDWARD'S APE FRIENDS!"

[Image: Untitled-3.jpg]

"YOU LACK HEART, OZ! YOU LACK SOUL! YOU LACK DIRECTION! YOU CHASE SHADOWS IN DARK, NEVER FINDING LIGHT! YOU PUPPET DANCING ON STRINGS, PULLED BY INNER DEMON! YOU NO MAN! YOU NO WARRIOR! YOU JUST SHADOW OF MAN LOST IN DARKNESS!"

"EDWARD SEE TRUTH! SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE! YOU WEAK! YOU AFRAID! YOU RUN FROM PAST, RUN FROM SELF, RUN FROM TRUTH! BUT YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER, OZ!" 

"AND YOU WON'T HIDE FROM EDWARD!"

"EDWARD COME FOR YOU! COME FOR VENGEANCE!"

"EDWARD BRING LIGHT TO DARKNESS, BRING TRUTH TO LIES, BRING JUSTICE TO INJUSTICE!"

"EDWARD MAKE YOU SEE REALITY OF WHAT YOU DONE! MAKE YOU FACE CONSEQUENCES!"

"YOU LOST, OZ! LOST IN YOUR OWN MIND, LOST IN YOUR OWN BATTLE! AND YOU WILL LOSE TO EDWARD! EDWARD STRONGER THAN YOU! EDWARD BRAVER THAN YOU! EDWARD FIGHT FOR JUSTICE, FIGHT FOR FRIENDS! WHAT YOU FIGHT FOR, OZ? FOR DEMON? FOR FEAR?"

"YOU PATHETIC, OZ! YOU SAD SIGHT! YOU CHANGE NAME, CHANGE SHAPE, CHANGE MOTIVATION! BUT ALL YOU DO IS RUN! RUN FROM SELF! BUT NO MORE! EDWARD STOP YOU! EDWARD FIGHT YOU! EDWARD CRUSH YOU!"

"EDWARD NOT AFRAID OF DEMON! EDWARD NOT AFRAID OF CLOWN! EDWARD NOT AFRAID OF YOU, OZ! YOU HEAR EDWARD ROAR!?!"

[Image: coalesce-ezgif-2-206582e366.gif]

"YOU HEAR EDWARD COMING! YOU PREPARE FOR STORM, MR. OZ! BECAUSE STORM COMING FOR YOU! AND STORM IS EDWARD!"

"YOU LISTEN GOOD, OZ! EDWARD FIGHT FOR JUSTICE! EDWARD FIGHT FOR FRIENDS! EDWARD FIGHT FOR TRIBE! AND EDWARD WIN! BECAUSE EDWARD STRONG! EDWARD BRAVE! EDWARD WARRIOR! YOU NOTHING BUT FEARFUL SHADOW LOST IN DARK!"

"EDWARD WILL BE YOUR END!"

"YOU THINK READY? YOU THINK STRONG ENOUGH TO FACE KING OF JUNGLE, STRONGEST WARRIOR, LEADER OF TRIBE, IN CONTEST OF THROWING?"

"YOU THINK YOU READY TO LEAD?"

"THINK AGAIN, OZ!"

"AND AGAIN!"

"AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN!"

"BECAUSE THIS BATTLE NO ORDINARY FIGHT."

"THIS BATTLE TAKE PLACE HIGH IN SKY, ATOP MIGHTY ARC OF FRANCE!"

"THIS WHERE EDWARD SHOW TRUE STRENGTH!"

"THIS WHERE EDWARD MAKE OZ FEEL SAME FEAR HE MAKE APE FRIENDS FEEL!"

"NO PLACE TO RUN, NO ESCAPE! ONLY STRENGTH, COURAGE, AND EDWARD'S VICTORY!"

"EDWARD NOT FEAR HEIGHT! EDWARD NOT FEAR DEATH! EDWARD NOT FEAR DEVIL MAN!"

"EDWARD ONLY FEAR LIVING IN WORLD WHERE MAN LIKE YOU ESCAPE PUNISHMENT FOR WHAT DO TO APE FRIENDS!"

"IN THAT MOMENT, YOU SHOW WORLD TRUTH ABOUT YOU!"

"YOU UNFIT TO LEAD!"

"UNFIT TO BELONG!"

"AN EVIL INFECTION THAT MUST BE CUT AWAY BEFORE IT INFECTS THE TRIBE!"

"EDWARD STAND STRONG FOR TRIBE!" 

"STAND STRONG FOR APE FRIENDS!"

"ANARCHY RULES, OZ! YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEAN, HUH? IT MEAN NO RULE BUT RULE OF JUNGLE!"

"IN JUNGLE, ONLY STRONGEST SURVIVE, AND THAT EDWARD! EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR! EDWARD BRAVEST! EDWARD KING OF THE MOUNTAIN, AND EDWARD HAVE SHINY TO PROVE IT!"

"EDWARD FACE ALL CHALLENGES, AND EDWARD CONQUER THEM ONE BY ONE!"

"EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR!"

"YOU!?!"

"HMMM!?!"

"WHEN YOU KILL APE FRIENDS, WHAT THOUGHT GO THROUGH YOUR BRAIN?"

"YOU THINK YOU ALREADY BEAT EDWARD FOR SHINY?"

"YOU THINK SO LITTLE OF EDWARD THAT YOU BELIEVE YOU MUST TRY AND PROVOKE LION?"

"EDWARD MUST SAY, NOT THE SMARTEST DEMON................."

"HA!"

"EDWARD LAUGH AT YOUR FOLLY! EDWARD LAUGH AT YOUR WEAKNESS! LAUGH AT YOUR DUMB BRAIN!"

"MAYBE CLOWN FACE WAS RIGHT FOR YOU AFTER ALL, HMMM?"

"EDWARD READY FOR BATTLE! EDWARD READY FOR VICTORY! EDWARD READY TO PROVE THAT STILL AND ALWAYS BE STRONGEST, BRAVEST, AND MOST HONORABLE WARRIOR!"

"EDWARD PRAY YOU READY, OZ, BECAUSE NOW, NO TURNING BACK! THERE ONLY EDWARD AND THE CONSEQUENCES THAT YOU FACE!"

"SEE YOU ATOP BIG STONE ARC! PREPARE FOR BATTLE OF LIFETIME! PREPARE TO FEEL EDWARD'S FURY! PREPARE TO BE HURLED FROM GREAT HEIGHTS AND FALL BACK INTO OBLIVION!"

"WHERE STUPID WEAK DEMON LIKE YOU BELONG!"

"ROAAAAR!"

Caveman Cut~!]]>
In the wake of Anarchy...

[Image: ezgif-2-e4d25a861e.gif]

With his innocent companions callously slaughtered by the wicked Mr. Oz, EDWARD, dressed in rawhide and hardened muscle, found himself sitting inside of a cavern concealed by nature. 

The shallow graves of his Ape Friends laid neatly before him.

Soaked to the bone, EDWARD ran his hands across one of the muddy graves before pressing himself to his feet. 

"...you destroy ape friends..."

"...you unleash darkness and pain upon innocent..."

"...edward not forget..."












...














"EDWARD NOT FORGIVE!"

"EDWARD BURY FRIENDS..." 

"TODAY DAY OF SORROW."

EDWARD hung his head low.

"OZ THINK THIS MAKE EDWARD SCARED, MAKE EDWARD SURRENDER SHINY. BUT OZ WRONG!"

Raising back up with a fiery vengeance burning in his eyes.

"OZ, YOU PATHETIC SHADOW OF MAN, YOU WALK IN CIRCLE! EDWARD SEE YOU, HAUNTED AND CONFUSED, CHANGING SHAPE LIKE SNAKE SHED SKIN!"

"EDWARD REMEMBER YOU AS GHOST TANK. BIG AND STRONG, YET FRAGILE AND LOST! YOU TRY TO BE POWERFUL WARRIOR, BUT YOU BREAK! YOU SHATTER LIKE THIN ICE UNDER EDWARD'S CRUSHING FOOT!"

"BROKEN FROM THEN ON!"

"MAKE YOU CHANGE!"

"MAKE YOU EVEN WEAKER!"

"EVEN MORE PATHETIC!"

"EDWARD LAUGH AT FLOATING CLOWN!"

"YOU PAINT FACE, YOU JUGGLE TRICKS, YOU HIDE BEHIND MASK, BUT YOU CAN'T FOOL EDWARD!"

"NO! EDWARD SEE PAST PAINT, SEE THROUGH TRICKS, SEE BEYOND MASK! EDWARD SEE FEAR! EDWARD SEE WEAKNESS! EDWARD SEE MAN LOST!"

"THEN YOU CALL YOURSELF OZWALD, BUT STILL, YOU NOT KNOW WHO YOU ARE! YOU JUST EMPTY NAME WITH EMPTY SHINY!"

"HOLLOW MAN! YOU WEAK, CONFUSED, LOST!"

"...AND THAT WHAT MAKE YOU DANGEROUS!"

"EDWARD KNOW ABOUT INNER BATTLE."

"HEAR ABOUT DEMON FIGHTING FOR CONTROL."

"THAT DEMON WIN, OZ!"

"IT WIN BECAUSE YOU NO HAVE STRENGTH TO FIGHT!"

"YOU NO HAVE COURAGE TO STAND UP!"

"EDWARD KNOW! BECAUSE ONLY DEMON COULD DO WHAT YOU DO TO EDWARD'S APE FRIENDS!"

[Image: Untitled-3.jpg]

"YOU LACK HEART, OZ! YOU LACK SOUL! YOU LACK DIRECTION! YOU CHASE SHADOWS IN DARK, NEVER FINDING LIGHT! YOU PUPPET DANCING ON STRINGS, PULLED BY INNER DEMON! YOU NO MAN! YOU NO WARRIOR! YOU JUST SHADOW OF MAN LOST IN DARKNESS!"

"EDWARD SEE TRUTH! SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE! YOU WEAK! YOU AFRAID! YOU RUN FROM PAST, RUN FROM SELF, RUN FROM TRUTH! BUT YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER, OZ!" 

"AND YOU WON'T HIDE FROM EDWARD!"

"EDWARD COME FOR YOU! COME FOR VENGEANCE!"

"EDWARD BRING LIGHT TO DARKNESS, BRING TRUTH TO LIES, BRING JUSTICE TO INJUSTICE!"

"EDWARD MAKE YOU SEE REALITY OF WHAT YOU DONE! MAKE YOU FACE CONSEQUENCES!"

"YOU LOST, OZ! LOST IN YOUR OWN MIND, LOST IN YOUR OWN BATTLE! AND YOU WILL LOSE TO EDWARD! EDWARD STRONGER THAN YOU! EDWARD BRAVER THAN YOU! EDWARD FIGHT FOR JUSTICE, FIGHT FOR FRIENDS! WHAT YOU FIGHT FOR, OZ? FOR DEMON? FOR FEAR?"

"YOU PATHETIC, OZ! YOU SAD SIGHT! YOU CHANGE NAME, CHANGE SHAPE, CHANGE MOTIVATION! BUT ALL YOU DO IS RUN! RUN FROM SELF! BUT NO MORE! EDWARD STOP YOU! EDWARD FIGHT YOU! EDWARD CRUSH YOU!"

"EDWARD NOT AFRAID OF DEMON! EDWARD NOT AFRAID OF CLOWN! EDWARD NOT AFRAID OF YOU, OZ! YOU HEAR EDWARD ROAR!?!"

[Image: coalesce-ezgif-2-206582e366.gif]

"YOU HEAR EDWARD COMING! YOU PREPARE FOR STORM, MR. OZ! BECAUSE STORM COMING FOR YOU! AND STORM IS EDWARD!"

"YOU LISTEN GOOD, OZ! EDWARD FIGHT FOR JUSTICE! EDWARD FIGHT FOR FRIENDS! EDWARD FIGHT FOR TRIBE! AND EDWARD WIN! BECAUSE EDWARD STRONG! EDWARD BRAVE! EDWARD WARRIOR! YOU NOTHING BUT FEARFUL SHADOW LOST IN DARK!"

"EDWARD WILL BE YOUR END!"

"YOU THINK READY? YOU THINK STRONG ENOUGH TO FACE KING OF JUNGLE, STRONGEST WARRIOR, LEADER OF TRIBE, IN CONTEST OF THROWING?"

"YOU THINK YOU READY TO LEAD?"

"THINK AGAIN, OZ!"

"AND AGAIN!"

"AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN!"

"BECAUSE THIS BATTLE NO ORDINARY FIGHT."

"THIS BATTLE TAKE PLACE HIGH IN SKY, ATOP MIGHTY ARC OF FRANCE!"

"THIS WHERE EDWARD SHOW TRUE STRENGTH!"

"THIS WHERE EDWARD MAKE OZ FEEL SAME FEAR HE MAKE APE FRIENDS FEEL!"

"NO PLACE TO RUN, NO ESCAPE! ONLY STRENGTH, COURAGE, AND EDWARD'S VICTORY!"

"EDWARD NOT FEAR HEIGHT! EDWARD NOT FEAR DEATH! EDWARD NOT FEAR DEVIL MAN!"

"EDWARD ONLY FEAR LIVING IN WORLD WHERE MAN LIKE YOU ESCAPE PUNISHMENT FOR WHAT DO TO APE FRIENDS!"

"IN THAT MOMENT, YOU SHOW WORLD TRUTH ABOUT YOU!"

"YOU UNFIT TO LEAD!"

"UNFIT TO BELONG!"

"AN EVIL INFECTION THAT MUST BE CUT AWAY BEFORE IT INFECTS THE TRIBE!"

"EDWARD STAND STRONG FOR TRIBE!" 

"STAND STRONG FOR APE FRIENDS!"

"ANARCHY RULES, OZ! YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEAN, HUH? IT MEAN NO RULE BUT RULE OF JUNGLE!"

"IN JUNGLE, ONLY STRONGEST SURVIVE, AND THAT EDWARD! EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR! EDWARD BRAVEST! EDWARD KING OF THE MOUNTAIN, AND EDWARD HAVE SHINY TO PROVE IT!"

"EDWARD FACE ALL CHALLENGES, AND EDWARD CONQUER THEM ONE BY ONE!"

"EDWARD STRONGEST WARRIOR!"

"YOU!?!"

"HMMM!?!"

"WHEN YOU KILL APE FRIENDS, WHAT THOUGHT GO THROUGH YOUR BRAIN?"

"YOU THINK YOU ALREADY BEAT EDWARD FOR SHINY?"

"YOU THINK SO LITTLE OF EDWARD THAT YOU BELIEVE YOU MUST TRY AND PROVOKE LION?"

"EDWARD MUST SAY, NOT THE SMARTEST DEMON................."

"HA!"

"EDWARD LAUGH AT YOUR FOLLY! EDWARD LAUGH AT YOUR WEAKNESS! LAUGH AT YOUR DUMB BRAIN!"

"MAYBE CLOWN FACE WAS RIGHT FOR YOU AFTER ALL, HMMM?"

"EDWARD READY FOR BATTLE! EDWARD READY FOR VICTORY! EDWARD READY TO PROVE THAT STILL AND ALWAYS BE STRONGEST, BRAVEST, AND MOST HONORABLE WARRIOR!"

"EDWARD PRAY YOU READY, OZ, BECAUSE NOW, NO TURNING BACK! THERE ONLY EDWARD AND THE CONSEQUENCES THAT YOU FACE!"

"SEE YOU ATOP BIG STONE ARC! PREPARE FOR BATTLE OF LIFETIME! PREPARE TO FEEL EDWARD'S FURY! PREPARE TO BE HURLED FROM GREAT HEIGHTS AND FALL BACK INTO OBLIVION!"

"WHERE STUPID WEAK DEMON LIKE YOU BELONG!"

"ROAAAAR!"

Caveman Cut~!]]> <![CDATA[Una historia terrible más allá del reino de las posibilidades]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46627 Thu, 27 Jul 2023 18:50:05 -0700 Reggie Estrada]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46627 Due To Reggie Dealing with personal issues, plus flying to Paris which will take him about 35 hours or so…. Here’s a promo that doesn’t involve him…Enjoy, i guess!

[We open to a Hansel and Gretel type of world, where their was a boy and a girl wandering in a forest. The Girl was running deep into the forest, and the boy was reaching to a house that was made out of Gingerbread. Then they stop in their tracks, and they see a Wolf like person dressed up in Mastermind’s clothing come up to them.]

Boy: Please Sir, we don’t mean no harm!

Wolf-Mind: Oh don’t worry about that… I know that person in that house, and she’s a nice lady who feeds me well.

Girl: Do you know her name?

Wolf-Mind: Well, not really… she only comes outside of her house when it’s Blood Moon outside. Speaking of which, it’s kinda cold outside, would you want my I Master’d the mind Of the Wolf?

[Then he pulls out two shirts for them, and they look on with glee. Then Wolf-Mind went along his way, before they went into the Gingerbread house, they walk down to a patch where their was fruits and veggies galore. As they walk to a fence, they are stopped by a Bear-Flynn who growls at them.]

Girl: We mean no harm, Bear!

Bear-Flynn:

You mean no harm?

That’s a lie!

You dare step on my property of foods!

I shall tear you both limb from limb!

[Then the boy throws a rock at Bear-Flynn in the head, and it turns to the boy. Snarling at him in disgust.]

Bear-Flynn:

Oh that’s it!

Oh I will tear you from limb to limb

After I bring up how superior I am!

When you throw that rock at me, I am offended!

I am supposed to be savior of the land!

This is how you treat me!

I might as well bring out my trusty case full of paperwork!

CROW-VY WHERE’S MY CASE FULL OF PAPERWORK!?!

[Then a Crow like Graves flys around them to drop a case which flung open full of incriminating evidence on Bear-Flynn, which caused him to flounder on the ground to pick up the files of him. Then the boy and girl snuck past Bear-Flynn and hopped over the fence to see the garden. As they walked further down, they open a shed to see Scarecrow T and Lion.B. sitting around a table playing spades. Then they see the intruders, and pulls out some magik wandz from their pockets.]

Scarecrow T:Who- - Who  - - Who are you people?

Lion.B.: yeah who are you folks?

[Then the Girl came up to Scarecrow T, handing him an apple, which he couldn’t eat due to not having any teeth, so he gave it to Lion.B. to eat. Then the Boy comes up to them and explains why they stumbled upon this shed.]

Boy: We originally came from our parent’s house and my older sister decided it would be good idea to explore the forest. We come in peace!

[Then the boy hands Lion.B. a picture of a locked away Reggie Tha Poobut in a cell somewhere they have been in before.]

Lion.B: Wait I know that cell, he’s in that gingerbread house where Lucy The X-Treme Witch is locking him right now. T, you think we should go up there with em?

[Scarecrow T was flipping through a magazine of hay bales, licking his lips then Lion.B smacks him across the head to get him to pay attention. He nods quickly in a approval, and he goes back to his magazine. Lion.B checks outside the field and see that it was Blood Moon above them. He heads back inside, and all of them walk out of the field to the fence. As they pass the fence, they encounter Bear-Flynn, CROW-VY who block their way.]

Bear-Flynn:

Ah Boy And Girl Comes Back!

Now, I can EXCAT REVENGE ON YOU TWO!

I’m A BAD BEAR-FLYNN!

I DON’T NE- - - -

[Then Lion.B just shoots the shit out of Bear-Flynn with his Gemini Ring off  his paw-gers, and CROW-VY tried to lunge at the, but Scarecrow T does the Flinstones Bam Bam thing where it ended up flying away from them, smashing itself on tree headfirst. As they traveled back to the Gingerbread house, Wolf-Mind comes towards them with new shirts.]

Wolf-Mind: Hey folks, I got new t shirt merch! It’s - - -

Scarecrow T: Shut it, Wolf-Mind. Don’t you got a shitty nursey rhyme to share to one of the LOST people in your area?

Wolf-Mind: I mean I do, but still… I like to annoy people with my shitty itty bitty chin chin.

Scarecrow T: Then go annoy them elsewhere, I think your house was blow into bits down the block from here.

[Wolf-Mind sees his house get blow into pieces not by fire, but with rainbows and sprinkles as he ran back to it’s house in sadness. Then the girl opens the gingerbread door, and they open to see it being full of treats of candies. Then Lion.B smacks Scarecrow T to not touch the foot shaped lollipop that was on a counter, then smoke comes into the room and they see Lucy The X-Treme Witch (portrayed by Sandy Honig)  in her silver dress and heels with red long gloves on. They end up trying to figure out what her deal is with Reggie Tha Poobut.]

Scarecrow T: Look, we here for Reggie Tha Poobut, where he at?

Lion.B: yeah… where he at!

Lucy: That’s not how you greet your host. Reggie Tha Poobut is locked away, being consumed with guilt with not being able to achieve his plan to dethrone Bear-Flynn. So he’s locked in the basement, with reruns of me and Bear-Flynn making love!

[“DaFu1'' was on their faces as she randomly was caressing a picture of Bear-Flynn, then she noticed them staring at her. Then she randomly drops them through a trap door. From this point, the budget of this animation ran out so we managed to see all the villains being tied and gagged while the gingerbread crumbled from the blood rain, as they saved Reggie Tha Poobut who had his jar of honey as they fled back to the shed for some shelter from the rain. This story end with a…]


[Image: yee-dinosaur.gif]


“I got to say, whoever did the animation was ingenious, well really I did it because I felt the need to give animators on the stateside something to do. I paid them some really good money within the contest I had made up to see who could make a shitty fairytale plot go terribly wrong. I think I found one, and I had to make sure it hit its mark. Who knows? I might make use of that style infrequently when I am too ugly to show my face around these parts.

Well, yeeeeeeeeeeee… to Leap of Faith!

Yeeeee….. For a really LONG flight from four different airlines to Paris!

My last Yeeeeeeeeeeee… to my chances at being a 4x X-Treme Champion!

Because I know full well how much this company values a so-called good guy Flynn. I know the fans are tired of seeing him being one of the goodie two shoes that would make Bob Buckland proud, i’m shocked he hasn’t gone off the deep end and started Chicken Winging people or telling a fan to name all 58 states of America in order to get  an autograph. Shit, at this rate he could be next line to be a present to fuck up America even more, than what ratfink Trumpa did to that wall.

Flynn, I think you have misunderstood me, you think I actively want to be a deviant like T? I don’t go around sniffing panties or whatever, i’m more más raro than that. And what I said might have been problematic, but it was all just for shock value, but I know you wouldn’t care to know and run it off as a fact. The fact is, Flynn, your time isn’t up but the fans think it is which is why you are stuck in limbo when they want to cheer for you or boo for you. I guess its truly up to the fans on who they want to walk out as the X-Treme champion.

I’ve seen it play out where the fans would turn their back on those who deem to be full of it, and I guess you are a part of that game Flynn. No matter how long you held that belt, the fans are more likely to turn against you until you go off the rails or rouge, your chippy attitude can get you so far up there, until it’s too late.

Mastermind, man… you must know damn well that LOST is a knock off Gillian’s Island, because both shows fucking suck out the chalupas out your brainstems. I know your little cute rhyme thing might appease a baby shark viewer on youtube, but it doesn’t work for me at all gringo. I’m honestly not shocked that Flynn on tha brain of yours. Well, I guess that’s how it is to take on a guy who might as well start wearin jorts and pump kicks to the ring with a “Let’s Go Flynn/Flynn SUCKS” chant to match. That’s okay if you are more fixated on flynn, just means i can fuck you up some more.

You see, I might not have the top tier achievement, nor a sense of what is really shock value or consent, but what I do have is all the balls in the world to know that, yes I maybe not be in line to break Flynn or Mastermind’s streak of awesomeness. I know that I am not going to walk away with shit on my name, but what I will do is come out with someone’s blood on my fucking hands. I am going to make sure that Flynn or Mastermind will not be recognized in the streets of Paris or anywhere else on this planet, because I have a clear advantage of this shit.

At least, I don’t have to consent to maim either those two gringos. ¡No necesito ningún consentimiento para hacerlas mi propia perra, maldita sea, solo estoy pensando en convertirlas en mis perras!

So fellas, get Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee’d out of Paris, because I am walking away with a murder case in my hands.”

[From there, it just fades to black.]]]> Due To Reggie Dealing with personal issues, plus flying to Paris which will take him about 35 hours or so…. Here’s a promo that doesn’t involve him…Enjoy, i guess!

[We open to a Hansel and Gretel type of world, where their was a boy and a girl wandering in a forest. The Girl was running deep into the forest, and the boy was reaching to a house that was made out of Gingerbread. Then they stop in their tracks, and they see a Wolf like person dressed up in Mastermind’s clothing come up to them.]

Boy: Please Sir, we don’t mean no harm!

Wolf-Mind: Oh don’t worry about that… I know that person in that house, and she’s a nice lady who feeds me well.

Girl: Do you know her name?

Wolf-Mind: Well, not really… she only comes outside of her house when it’s Blood Moon outside. Speaking of which, it’s kinda cold outside, would you want my I Master’d the mind Of the Wolf?

[Then he pulls out two shirts for them, and they look on with glee. Then Wolf-Mind went along his way, before they went into the Gingerbread house, they walk down to a patch where their was fruits and veggies galore. As they walk to a fence, they are stopped by a Bear-Flynn who growls at them.]

Girl: We mean no harm, Bear!

Bear-Flynn:

You mean no harm?

That’s a lie!

You dare step on my property of foods!

I shall tear you both limb from limb!

[Then the boy throws a rock at Bear-Flynn in the head, and it turns to the boy. Snarling at him in disgust.]

Bear-Flynn:

Oh that’s it!

Oh I will tear you from limb to limb

After I bring up how superior I am!

When you throw that rock at me, I am offended!

I am supposed to be savior of the land!

This is how you treat me!

I might as well bring out my trusty case full of paperwork!

CROW-VY WHERE’S MY CASE FULL OF PAPERWORK!?!

[Then a Crow like Graves flys around them to drop a case which flung open full of incriminating evidence on Bear-Flynn, which caused him to flounder on the ground to pick up the files of him. Then the boy and girl snuck past Bear-Flynn and hopped over the fence to see the garden. As they walked further down, they open a shed to see Scarecrow T and Lion.B. sitting around a table playing spades. Then they see the intruders, and pulls out some magik wandz from their pockets.]

Scarecrow T:Who- - Who  - - Who are you people?

Lion.B.: yeah who are you folks?

[Then the Girl came up to Scarecrow T, handing him an apple, which he couldn’t eat due to not having any teeth, so he gave it to Lion.B. to eat. Then the Boy comes up to them and explains why they stumbled upon this shed.]

Boy: We originally came from our parent’s house and my older sister decided it would be good idea to explore the forest. We come in peace!

[Then the boy hands Lion.B. a picture of a locked away Reggie Tha Poobut in a cell somewhere they have been in before.]

Lion.B: Wait I know that cell, he’s in that gingerbread house where Lucy The X-Treme Witch is locking him right now. T, you think we should go up there with em?

[Scarecrow T was flipping through a magazine of hay bales, licking his lips then Lion.B smacks him across the head to get him to pay attention. He nods quickly in a approval, and he goes back to his magazine. Lion.B checks outside the field and see that it was Blood Moon above them. He heads back inside, and all of them walk out of the field to the fence. As they pass the fence, they encounter Bear-Flynn, CROW-VY who block their way.]

Bear-Flynn:

Ah Boy And Girl Comes Back!

Now, I can EXCAT REVENGE ON YOU TWO!

I’m A BAD BEAR-FLYNN!

I DON’T NE- - - -

[Then Lion.B just shoots the shit out of Bear-Flynn with his Gemini Ring off  his paw-gers, and CROW-VY tried to lunge at the, but Scarecrow T does the Flinstones Bam Bam thing where it ended up flying away from them, smashing itself on tree headfirst. As they traveled back to the Gingerbread house, Wolf-Mind comes towards them with new shirts.]

Wolf-Mind: Hey folks, I got new t shirt merch! It’s - - -

Scarecrow T: Shut it, Wolf-Mind. Don’t you got a shitty nursey rhyme to share to one of the LOST people in your area?

Wolf-Mind: I mean I do, but still… I like to annoy people with my shitty itty bitty chin chin.

Scarecrow T: Then go annoy them elsewhere, I think your house was blow into bits down the block from here.

[Wolf-Mind sees his house get blow into pieces not by fire, but with rainbows and sprinkles as he ran back to it’s house in sadness. Then the girl opens the gingerbread door, and they open to see it being full of treats of candies. Then Lion.B smacks Scarecrow T to not touch the foot shaped lollipop that was on a counter, then smoke comes into the room and they see Lucy The X-Treme Witch (portrayed by Sandy Honig)  in her silver dress and heels with red long gloves on. They end up trying to figure out what her deal is with Reggie Tha Poobut.]

Scarecrow T: Look, we here for Reggie Tha Poobut, where he at?

Lion.B: yeah… where he at!

Lucy: That’s not how you greet your host. Reggie Tha Poobut is locked away, being consumed with guilt with not being able to achieve his plan to dethrone Bear-Flynn. So he’s locked in the basement, with reruns of me and Bear-Flynn making love!

[“DaFu1'' was on their faces as she randomly was caressing a picture of Bear-Flynn, then she noticed them staring at her. Then she randomly drops them through a trap door. From this point, the budget of this animation ran out so we managed to see all the villains being tied and gagged while the gingerbread crumbled from the blood rain, as they saved Reggie Tha Poobut who had his jar of honey as they fled back to the shed for some shelter from the rain. This story end with a…]


[Image: yee-dinosaur.gif]


“I got to say, whoever did the animation was ingenious, well really I did it because I felt the need to give animators on the stateside something to do. I paid them some really good money within the contest I had made up to see who could make a shitty fairytale plot go terribly wrong. I think I found one, and I had to make sure it hit its mark. Who knows? I might make use of that style infrequently when I am too ugly to show my face around these parts.

Well, yeeeeeeeeeeee… to Leap of Faith!

Yeeeee….. For a really LONG flight from four different airlines to Paris!

My last Yeeeeeeeeeeee… to my chances at being a 4x X-Treme Champion!

Because I know full well how much this company values a so-called good guy Flynn. I know the fans are tired of seeing him being one of the goodie two shoes that would make Bob Buckland proud, i’m shocked he hasn’t gone off the deep end and started Chicken Winging people or telling a fan to name all 58 states of America in order to get  an autograph. Shit, at this rate he could be next line to be a present to fuck up America even more, than what ratfink Trumpa did to that wall.

Flynn, I think you have misunderstood me, you think I actively want to be a deviant like T? I don’t go around sniffing panties or whatever, i’m more más raro than that. And what I said might have been problematic, but it was all just for shock value, but I know you wouldn’t care to know and run it off as a fact. The fact is, Flynn, your time isn’t up but the fans think it is which is why you are stuck in limbo when they want to cheer for you or boo for you. I guess its truly up to the fans on who they want to walk out as the X-Treme champion.

I’ve seen it play out where the fans would turn their back on those who deem to be full of it, and I guess you are a part of that game Flynn. No matter how long you held that belt, the fans are more likely to turn against you until you go off the rails or rouge, your chippy attitude can get you so far up there, until it’s too late.

Mastermind, man… you must know damn well that LOST is a knock off Gillian’s Island, because both shows fucking suck out the chalupas out your brainstems. I know your little cute rhyme thing might appease a baby shark viewer on youtube, but it doesn’t work for me at all gringo. I’m honestly not shocked that Flynn on tha brain of yours. Well, I guess that’s how it is to take on a guy who might as well start wearin jorts and pump kicks to the ring with a “Let’s Go Flynn/Flynn SUCKS” chant to match. That’s okay if you are more fixated on flynn, just means i can fuck you up some more.

You see, I might not have the top tier achievement, nor a sense of what is really shock value or consent, but what I do have is all the balls in the world to know that, yes I maybe not be in line to break Flynn or Mastermind’s streak of awesomeness. I know that I am not going to walk away with shit on my name, but what I will do is come out with someone’s blood on my fucking hands. I am going to make sure that Flynn or Mastermind will not be recognized in the streets of Paris or anywhere else on this planet, because I have a clear advantage of this shit.

At least, I don’t have to consent to maim either those two gringos. ¡No necesito ningún consentimiento para hacerlas mi propia perra, maldita sea, solo estoy pensando en convertirlas en mis perras!

So fellas, get Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee’d out of Paris, because I am walking away with a murder case in my hands.”

[From there, it just fades to black.]]]> <![CDATA[Master of the House]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46624 Wed, 26 Jul 2023 21:00:49 -0700 Prof. Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46624

The newly renovated castle Bobby Bourbon appropriated from inbreds is alive and thriving on opening night. Massive, glitzy, and gaudy neon lights adorn the exterior of this once noble looking building, all hyping one word. Bourbon. Outside we see a team working around a massive offset smoker, preparing American style barbecue. The red carpet has been rolled out for this endeavor, as celebrities and stars alike all have come en masse. Outside of the building, in regal, pastiche military garb, we see the Duke of Bourbon, Bobby Bourbon.

[Image: 00008.jpg]

Bobby welcomes all comers to the Château of the Dukes of Bourbon. The first person he meets is Ed Sheeran, singer-songwriter.

Mr. Sheeran, it is an honor and a pleasure to welcome you to my humble abode!

Ed Sheeran seems like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

You took the quaintness of the French countryside and whored it out, and the meat here smells really strange.

That would be real imported Hickory, Ed. Not native to the continent, but nothing makes the pork sing quite like it! Say, perhaps we could perform a duet tonight!

No.

Ed Sheeran coldly walks by Bobby, who shrugs.

Everyone’s a critic.

Bobby walks into the Château, and the place looks drastically different from how we last saw it. Long gone is the morose, dingy interiors, instead replaced with something that resembles a Dave and Busters. Arcade machines from wall to wall, including a prize area where visitors can redeem tickets for all manner of absolute junk that nobody ever needed but you can give to a shallow date guilt free. A massive American Flag adorns the wall set side by side with the French flag. Bobby is swiftly approached by Johnny Depp. Bobby looks quizzically at Depp.

Hey, you were canceled, who let you in?

You were canceled!

And I was sleeping in the dungeon.

Oh, well, um…

I hate what you’ve done with the place. Crass commercialism in a French commune, it’s almost sickening.

Nobody asked you.

You seem like you can’t handle criticism well.

Sure I can, just not from you, now get out of here before Disney refuses to hire me.

Awful jackass.

Johnny Depp skulks out of the modern temple to immature gaiety. As he does, Bobby spots Mark Flynn feasting on ribs.

Hey Mark!

Bobby approaches Mark Flynn, who has already cut through half a rack of ribs, bare bones left on a platter in front of him.

"Bobby, what are you doing?"

Oh, nothing. Hey, I was thinking, after Leap of Faith, we’re going to be Briefcase Buddies!

"Stop saying that."

"You literally texted me seven times since yesterday saying that."

Well, I mean, it sounds cool! We’re going to have our own little cold war! You won’t use your case because then I’ll just use mine and vice versa! I love me some good old fashioned mutually assured destruction!

Mark shakes his head in disbelief.

"You’re pretty confident that five people can’t stop you like they haven’t in the past."

I lived it, Mark, I learned. Now I know that utterly decimating the competition is the only option to my own sense of self worth, not competing with them!

Mark blinks.

"I hate how you’re so deranged and corrupt but carry it like it’s zen."

Bobby half shrugs.

Heart of a desecrator, soul of an abomination, but I carry it well. Brushing my teeth regularly also helps my charm. Speaking of which, I am ready to audition for your Shove-It!

"What?"

Mark looks genuinely ambushed, which is saying something considering the nature of defending the Xtreme Championship. Bobby starts to sing. Before he can really even begin, Bobby is cut short by Mark.

"Stop."

"Just stop."

"No."

What, is it that bad?

"Saying your singing is that bad is still giving it too much credence."

"I would say it’s dog piss."

"But that is an insult to piss."

Oh, well, tell me how you really feel.

Mark chomps into another smoked St. Louis style rib. He smacks his lips, licks off a finger, and stares at the bone as he chews and swallows.

"The ribs suck too."

Mark picks up two entire racks of ribs.

"I’m taking these so nobody else has to eat them. Like a good person."

Bobby nods, smiling.

Sure, man.

Mark has already bitten into another rib, rolling his eyes in ecstasy from the perfection held within.

"Whatever.."

"..mmmm.."

"..these are.."

"..mmmm.."

"..delicious. I mean atrocious."

Mark leaves the All New Château Bourbon, indeed using the Xtreme Championship as a platter to carry ribs. Bobby turns and sees Dolly Waters.

Bobby, I am pleased to see your coup was a success.

Heh, well, you know, I stole an entire European lineage, nothing too crazy.

Brilliant.

Well, come our night in Paris, if all goes according to plan we'll have a briefcase. I wanted to apologize for what Isaiah said.

Why?

Because he's just so dumb. He wants to say you're old. He's legit 6 years older than you.

Yeah.

Isaiah King is so stupid I could hit him with a cup and he'll tell everyone he was mugged.

Isaiah King is so dumb he thinks you can’t make an omelet without walking on eggshells.

Isaiah King is ignorant; he doesn't think he has anything to learn.

Isaiah, it's one thing to say it's time for something fresh, maybe you could do that sometime though.

I am not old,

nah,

not stale,

I am established, and I earned my fucking place through sheer force of will.

Any ounce of potential you say you have will never be worth the gallons of blood I have shed in that ring, and if you’re too dumb to realize it,

I’ll be in Paris to beat it into you,

or beat you unconscious.

I welcome you to stand in my way and show me something, because I’ve taken every beating you can imagine, you have brought nothing new to the table, and I’m still around.

And what's more depressing is you’re the latest wagon Ned hitched himself to while abandoning his best friend.

I guess that would be “former best friend”, huh? I made this personal for you, Ned?

What have you done for Dan lately? I mean, you bailed on the man,

your quote,

unquote “best friend” so you could go play with Trilogy.

Yep, Jason Cashe is more talented than you.

Then you tried to do it with SAGA. How did it feel being on the coattails of Raion Kido? Most recently?

You’ve made it your personal mission to surround yourself with Mark Flynn,

and no matter whose dick you wind up riding,

you’re still wearing virgin white to the ball because what have you gotten done?

I,

on the other hand,

had the presence of mind to know that Big D has bills to pay,

has value in this industry,

has a fucking purpose,

and unlike you,

association with my name takes people places;

ask Charlie, for Christ’s sake, he’s a multicompany star. I called D up and I got him back in the action, and you have the audacity to take that personally?

Shame.

Then there’s Dionysus,

who’s guessing his way into the match. This here isn’t just some game,

this is us fighting on the Eiffel Tower. Damn near a hundred stories high, one misstep and you become a stain on concrete,

and you’re not sure if this is the biggest opportunity you’ve had in the XWF? Dio, let me clarify something for you;

you earned a Tag Title match, and kudos. I could go out tomorrow,

pick up a microphone,

and declare that I was going after the Tag Titles with a literal sack of rotten fruit,

and I’d get the damn match,

just like how way back in early June, I told everybody I would be in this match,

and lo,

here I am! I don’t shuffle up my faces seeing what sticks to the wall and what falls off. I go out and tear the fucking wall down and ask motherfuckers how they liked it.

And Jenny, I guess after you get tossed aside in this soiree and take another couple months off,

you’ll come back expecting the world and getting disappointed when it doesn’t come hand wrapped to you and you have to go out and earn it. Make absolutely no mistakes about it,

Jenny.

Everything,

good or bad,

that I have gone through this year alone,

and throughout my career? I can admit I earned it. Not a damn thing has ever been handed to me on a silver platter, I have gone out and taken what I want to do what I must.

And I’ve done what I must to become what I want.

There’s a cycle to it, and every fucking time some ass hat says that I just get this and that for being me, all I fucking hear is someone who can't get on my fucking level of greatness.

Shit, think about it, look at all those people who were able to shine because for one night they got the better of me. Every name that became relevant because of me; Raion Kido, Sidney Grey, and Jay Omega this year alone, where are they?

Bobby cocks an eyebrow, sneering.

I guess they couldn’t get a flight to Paris.

Hell, if it wasn’t for me, Ned would be somewhere off fucking around with the likes of Peter Vaughn, because who the fuck is anybody I haven’t faced in this business?

Isaiah King is perplexed why I’m still relevant, and hey, that guy is so dumb he thinks that Jenny Myst is.

Dolly looks gobsmacked, having stood beside Bobby as he went on a tirade for the second time this year.

Damn, the Divines must have something to say about that, Bobby.

Dolly reaches into her sleeve and pulls something out for Bobby.

[Image: 51ySXUladDL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg]

The Tower tarot card has been pulled.

Oh, shit, Dolly, are you sure you didn’t want to use that in one of your promos?

Nah, don’t sweat it. I’m not going to cut any. I figure that’s what’s been holding me back, is cutting promos, so I’m not, instead I’m focusing on the match.

Also, don’t sing Les Miserables, you’re great in the ring but really, you’re a terrible singer.

Huh. Bold! Also, I appreciate your candor. You suck at knitting or something.

Bobby smiles and nods as Dolly meanders off, mingling with the crowd at the Château. As she does, we see Bouncy Brickhouse, Bobby’s lady friend, approach Bobby.

Hiya, sweetie!

Hello, my dear. How are you?

Oh, I’m good, I brought a friend with me, a certain someone you wanted to meet.

You don’t mean..

I do mean..

With a flair for the debonair, Carmen Sandiego walks into the Château. Bobby’s jaw goes slack as his elation hits a pinnacle.

Oh

My

God!

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? She’s in my own Château! Hah! Hahahaha!

Eat a big plate of shit, Elon Musk!

That’s right, gumshoe, here I am!

She called me gumshoe! I don’t know what that means or if it applies but it’s so cool!

Bouncy chuckles at Bobby’s reaction mirroring a child on Christmas morning, nor being too sure what exactly a gumshoe is. It’s a detective, and no, I didn’t have to google that.

Bobby, I have to hand it to you, I’ve stolen the Pyramids of Gisa, the Hubble Telescope, Plymouth Rock, Ayers Rock, the Rock of Gibraltar, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and even pirated a few seasons of Fraggle Rock.

Bobby slowly nods. Feel free to google Fraggle Rock.

You probably stole an awful lot of things that weren’t stone too!

Of course! However, Bobby, I have never seen anyone steal an entire lineage before! As the locals say, très magnifique!

Carmen gives a chef’s kiss. As she does, Genevieve Tote approaches Bobby, her tablet in hand.

Mr. Bourbon, excuse me, while I do feel your dedication and thoughts of your opponents earlier were fine, tread lightly with some of your guests.

I kicked Johnny Depp out. No time for that guy. He's so "a few months ago".

She means me, of course!

Miss Tote takes note, biting her lower lip.

Aw, heck, Miss Tote, I can enjoy the company of the greatest con artist in history for an evening.

I appreciate your courtesy, Bobby, but given your status as a con-man, well, I stand in your shadow now! As such, those of us in V.I.L.E. have a gift to present to you, and we wish you would reconsider your stance on joining us!

What? Join an international criminal syndicate on camera? I’m no amateur, even though I’m pretty sure INTERPOL is not in the building.

I hate that band.

Total hipster bullshit.

Agreed! Well, I did want to bring you something I feel you’d value very much, especially a proud American dissident such as yourself!

Oh? Do tell!

With that, Jason Aldean, singer of controversial song Try That in a Small Town, is escorted into the Château before Bobby, Bouncy, Miss Tote, and the rest of the patrons of Bobby's leisure palace.

Mr. Bourbon, that’s the guy who sang the song..

Bobby slowly blinks, then looks back at Carmen.

Carmen, I do appreciate the offer you have brought, such a gesture is not to be ignored, and by no means do I wish to seem ungrateful..

You do not like?

Oh, no, I love! This guy is provocative.

The talk of everybody on socials right now.

But in two weeks nobody is going to remember who the hell he is, he just cropped up during a slow news cycle, and as Duke of Bourbon, I insist on evergreen material!

Thrashing simps who will recoil back to insignificance in less than a month is what I intend to do at the Eiffel Tower.

Bobby looks at Aldean up and down.

Fuck, we’ve come a long way from Johnny Cash.

Mr. Bourbon, perhaps he just wanted to do something new.

Some new shit sucks.

Bobby looks up and over at the busiest attraction in his arcade, the air hockey table. Dominating yet another who has lined up to face them, Doctor Louis D’Ville puffs his cigarillo in victory. Doc glances over at Bobby. Bobby points at Aldean.

Doc, get this bozo out of here.

Of course, Bobby!

Doc approaches Jason Aldean. Aldean shivers, the gag in his mouth tightening at the sight of D’Ville.

Hello, my friend! Perhaps I will show you what I will try in this small town!

Bobby looks blankly at Bouncy.

Is that a reference to something I’m missing? Seriously, I haven’t heard this guy’s song or anything.

Mr. Bourbon, I think your associate Mr. D’Ville..

Ahem. Doctor D’Ville. I didn’t get my PhD for no reason.

Right. Doctor D’Ville made a pun using the song.

Doc grins, knowing he didn’t use evergreen material.

Hey, Louis!

Oh, hey Carm.

Pickleball this weekend?

Of course!

Doc escorts the country singer away, most likely to do the kind of stuff he likes to do to people, which while awful is often pretty well crafted. Maybe he’ll make him only eat via Doordash; try THAT in a small town!

That cunning bastard.

I thought that was you.

No, Miss Tote, you see, I’m simply the master of the house!

Bouncy shakes her head.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. No singing, Jesus, you’re terrible at it, sweetie, leave it to the professionals.

Okay, my dear, I won’t sing.

Thank God!

I won’t sing in front of you!

Bobby, I get you’re disappointed by the appearance of that doofy country singer who won’t be in the scope of the zeitgeist in a couple of days, there’s no reason to become demonstrative. As wily as you are a criminal, and as ferocious as you are a gladiator in the ring, you are absolutely at your worst when you sing.

Okay, geeze, I get it! I just, I dunno, I wanted to also open a Karaoke room in this place.

I thought we discussed that, Mr. Bourbon, anybody can hear anyone sing horribly in a million different places.

I know, Miss Tote, but how often do I get to sing badly?

It’s almost as though I have to sound perfect every time I get in front of the camera, I thought if I sang a song that was from the heart, true to my every fiber of being, well, it would give the people watching at home a glimpse into who I really am.

I promise, you do not sound like David Bowie no matter how drunk whoever is listening gets.

They could drink shoe polish with a bug spray chaser and still understand that you don’t sound like the Grand White Duke.

Yeah? Well, what about the Duke of Bourbon?

Mr. Bourbon, you already sound like that.

Fair enough, Miss Tote, fair enough. Well, if you’ll pardon me, and I can’t stress this enough, don’t eat the Bourbon Meat Pies, if you know you know, they’re strictly for tramps, poors, and dogs.

Bouncy and Carmen laugh.

Well, Bobby, it’s been a pleasure, by all means, Bouncy knows how to get in touch, do you mind if I get your number from her?

Sure, we’ll do lunch or something and make fun of someone who people will recognize in a decade.

As opposed to Ned Kaye, Dionysus, Jenny Myst, or Isaiah King. Y’all about to experience some shit in Paris when I go through you to show why I’m above you.

Bouncy and Carmen chuckle and make their way to a skee ball ramp. As they do, Bobby walks up a flight of stairs and out onto the veranda of the keep. Enjoying the solace of the night air, and without anybody to tell him not to, he looks into the camera and begins to sing Master of the House.

]]>

The newly renovated castle Bobby Bourbon appropriated from inbreds is alive and thriving on opening night. Massive, glitzy, and gaudy neon lights adorn the exterior of this once noble looking building, all hyping one word. Bourbon. Outside we see a team working around a massive offset smoker, preparing American style barbecue. The red carpet has been rolled out for this endeavor, as celebrities and stars alike all have come en masse. Outside of the building, in regal, pastiche military garb, we see the Duke of Bourbon, Bobby Bourbon.

[Image: 00008.jpg]

Bobby welcomes all comers to the Château of the Dukes of Bourbon. The first person he meets is Ed Sheeran, singer-songwriter.

Mr. Sheeran, it is an honor and a pleasure to welcome you to my humble abode!

Ed Sheeran seems like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

You took the quaintness of the French countryside and whored it out, and the meat here smells really strange.

That would be real imported Hickory, Ed. Not native to the continent, but nothing makes the pork sing quite like it! Say, perhaps we could perform a duet tonight!

No.

Ed Sheeran coldly walks by Bobby, who shrugs.

Everyone’s a critic.

Bobby walks into the Château, and the place looks drastically different from how we last saw it. Long gone is the morose, dingy interiors, instead replaced with something that resembles a Dave and Busters. Arcade machines from wall to wall, including a prize area where visitors can redeem tickets for all manner of absolute junk that nobody ever needed but you can give to a shallow date guilt free. A massive American Flag adorns the wall set side by side with the French flag. Bobby is swiftly approached by Johnny Depp. Bobby looks quizzically at Depp.

Hey, you were canceled, who let you in?

You were canceled!

And I was sleeping in the dungeon.

Oh, well, um…

I hate what you’ve done with the place. Crass commercialism in a French commune, it’s almost sickening.

Nobody asked you.

You seem like you can’t handle criticism well.

Sure I can, just not from you, now get out of here before Disney refuses to hire me.

Awful jackass.

Johnny Depp skulks out of the modern temple to immature gaiety. As he does, Bobby spots Mark Flynn feasting on ribs.

Hey Mark!

Bobby approaches Mark Flynn, who has already cut through half a rack of ribs, bare bones left on a platter in front of him.

"Bobby, what are you doing?"

Oh, nothing. Hey, I was thinking, after Leap of Faith, we’re going to be Briefcase Buddies!

"Stop saying that."

"You literally texted me seven times since yesterday saying that."

Well, I mean, it sounds cool! We’re going to have our own little cold war! You won’t use your case because then I’ll just use mine and vice versa! I love me some good old fashioned mutually assured destruction!

Mark shakes his head in disbelief.

"You’re pretty confident that five people can’t stop you like they haven’t in the past."

I lived it, Mark, I learned. Now I know that utterly decimating the competition is the only option to my own sense of self worth, not competing with them!

Mark blinks.

"I hate how you’re so deranged and corrupt but carry it like it’s zen."

Bobby half shrugs.

Heart of a desecrator, soul of an abomination, but I carry it well. Brushing my teeth regularly also helps my charm. Speaking of which, I am ready to audition for your Shove-It!

"What?"

Mark looks genuinely ambushed, which is saying something considering the nature of defending the Xtreme Championship. Bobby starts to sing. Before he can really even begin, Bobby is cut short by Mark.

"Stop."

"Just stop."

"No."

What, is it that bad?

"Saying your singing is that bad is still giving it too much credence."

"I would say it’s dog piss."

"But that is an insult to piss."

Oh, well, tell me how you really feel.

Mark chomps into another smoked St. Louis style rib. He smacks his lips, licks off a finger, and stares at the bone as he chews and swallows.

"The ribs suck too."

Mark picks up two entire racks of ribs.

"I’m taking these so nobody else has to eat them. Like a good person."

Bobby nods, smiling.

Sure, man.

Mark has already bitten into another rib, rolling his eyes in ecstasy from the perfection held within.

"Whatever.."

"..mmmm.."

"..these are.."

"..mmmm.."

"..delicious. I mean atrocious."

Mark leaves the All New Château Bourbon, indeed using the Xtreme Championship as a platter to carry ribs. Bobby turns and sees Dolly Waters.

Bobby, I am pleased to see your coup was a success.

Heh, well, you know, I stole an entire European lineage, nothing too crazy.

Brilliant.

Well, come our night in Paris, if all goes according to plan we'll have a briefcase. I wanted to apologize for what Isaiah said.

Why?

Because he's just so dumb. He wants to say you're old. He's legit 6 years older than you.

Yeah.

Isaiah King is so stupid I could hit him with a cup and he'll tell everyone he was mugged.

Isaiah King is so dumb he thinks you can’t make an omelet without walking on eggshells.

Isaiah King is ignorant; he doesn't think he has anything to learn.

Isaiah, it's one thing to say it's time for something fresh, maybe you could do that sometime though.

I am not old,

nah,

not stale,

I am established, and I earned my fucking place through sheer force of will.

Any ounce of potential you say you have will never be worth the gallons of blood I have shed in that ring, and if you’re too dumb to realize it,

I’ll be in Paris to beat it into you,

or beat you unconscious.

I welcome you to stand in my way and show me something, because I’ve taken every beating you can imagine, you have brought nothing new to the table, and I’m still around.

And what's more depressing is you’re the latest wagon Ned hitched himself to while abandoning his best friend.

I guess that would be “former best friend”, huh? I made this personal for you, Ned?

What have you done for Dan lately? I mean, you bailed on the man,

your quote,

unquote “best friend” so you could go play with Trilogy.

Yep, Jason Cashe is more talented than you.

Then you tried to do it with SAGA. How did it feel being on the coattails of Raion Kido? Most recently?

You’ve made it your personal mission to surround yourself with Mark Flynn,

and no matter whose dick you wind up riding,

you’re still wearing virgin white to the ball because what have you gotten done?

I,

on the other hand,

had the presence of mind to know that Big D has bills to pay,

has value in this industry,

has a fucking purpose,

and unlike you,

association with my name takes people places;

ask Charlie, for Christ’s sake, he’s a multicompany star. I called D up and I got him back in the action, and you have the audacity to take that personally?

Shame.

Then there’s Dionysus,

who’s guessing his way into the match. This here isn’t just some game,

this is us fighting on the Eiffel Tower. Damn near a hundred stories high, one misstep and you become a stain on concrete,

and you’re not sure if this is the biggest opportunity you’ve had in the XWF? Dio, let me clarify something for you;

you earned a Tag Title match, and kudos. I could go out tomorrow,

pick up a microphone,

and declare that I was going after the Tag Titles with a literal sack of rotten fruit,

and I’d get the damn match,

just like how way back in early June, I told everybody I would be in this match,

and lo,

here I am! I don’t shuffle up my faces seeing what sticks to the wall and what falls off. I go out and tear the fucking wall down and ask motherfuckers how they liked it.

And Jenny, I guess after you get tossed aside in this soiree and take another couple months off,

you’ll come back expecting the world and getting disappointed when it doesn’t come hand wrapped to you and you have to go out and earn it. Make absolutely no mistakes about it,

Jenny.

Everything,

good or bad,

that I have gone through this year alone,

and throughout my career? I can admit I earned it. Not a damn thing has ever been handed to me on a silver platter, I have gone out and taken what I want to do what I must.

And I’ve done what I must to become what I want.

There’s a cycle to it, and every fucking time some ass hat says that I just get this and that for being me, all I fucking hear is someone who can't get on my fucking level of greatness.

Shit, think about it, look at all those people who were able to shine because for one night they got the better of me. Every name that became relevant because of me; Raion Kido, Sidney Grey, and Jay Omega this year alone, where are they?

Bobby cocks an eyebrow, sneering.

I guess they couldn’t get a flight to Paris.

Hell, if it wasn’t for me, Ned would be somewhere off fucking around with the likes of Peter Vaughn, because who the fuck is anybody I haven’t faced in this business?

Isaiah King is perplexed why I’m still relevant, and hey, that guy is so dumb he thinks that Jenny Myst is.

Dolly looks gobsmacked, having stood beside Bobby as he went on a tirade for the second time this year.

Damn, the Divines must have something to say about that, Bobby.

Dolly reaches into her sleeve and pulls something out for Bobby.

[Image: 51ySXUladDL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg]

The Tower tarot card has been pulled.

Oh, shit, Dolly, are you sure you didn’t want to use that in one of your promos?

Nah, don’t sweat it. I’m not going to cut any. I figure that’s what’s been holding me back, is cutting promos, so I’m not, instead I’m focusing on the match.

Also, don’t sing Les Miserables, you’re great in the ring but really, you’re a terrible singer.

Huh. Bold! Also, I appreciate your candor. You suck at knitting or something.

Bobby smiles and nods as Dolly meanders off, mingling with the crowd at the Château. As she does, we see Bouncy Brickhouse, Bobby’s lady friend, approach Bobby.

Hiya, sweetie!

Hello, my dear. How are you?

Oh, I’m good, I brought a friend with me, a certain someone you wanted to meet.

You don’t mean..

I do mean..

With a flair for the debonair, Carmen Sandiego walks into the Château. Bobby’s jaw goes slack as his elation hits a pinnacle.

Oh

My

God!

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? She’s in my own Château! Hah! Hahahaha!

Eat a big plate of shit, Elon Musk!

That’s right, gumshoe, here I am!

She called me gumshoe! I don’t know what that means or if it applies but it’s so cool!

Bouncy chuckles at Bobby’s reaction mirroring a child on Christmas morning, nor being too sure what exactly a gumshoe is. It’s a detective, and no, I didn’t have to google that.

Bobby, I have to hand it to you, I’ve stolen the Pyramids of Gisa, the Hubble Telescope, Plymouth Rock, Ayers Rock, the Rock of Gibraltar, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and even pirated a few seasons of Fraggle Rock.

Bobby slowly nods. Feel free to google Fraggle Rock.

You probably stole an awful lot of things that weren’t stone too!

Of course! However, Bobby, I have never seen anyone steal an entire lineage before! As the locals say, très magnifique!

Carmen gives a chef’s kiss. As she does, Genevieve Tote approaches Bobby, her tablet in hand.

Mr. Bourbon, excuse me, while I do feel your dedication and thoughts of your opponents earlier were fine, tread lightly with some of your guests.

I kicked Johnny Depp out. No time for that guy. He's so "a few months ago".

She means me, of course!

Miss Tote takes note, biting her lower lip.

Aw, heck, Miss Tote, I can enjoy the company of the greatest con artist in history for an evening.

I appreciate your courtesy, Bobby, but given your status as a con-man, well, I stand in your shadow now! As such, those of us in V.I.L.E. have a gift to present to you, and we wish you would reconsider your stance on joining us!

What? Join an international criminal syndicate on camera? I’m no amateur, even though I’m pretty sure INTERPOL is not in the building.

I hate that band.

Total hipster bullshit.

Agreed! Well, I did want to bring you something I feel you’d value very much, especially a proud American dissident such as yourself!

Oh? Do tell!

With that, Jason Aldean, singer of controversial song Try That in a Small Town, is escorted into the Château before Bobby, Bouncy, Miss Tote, and the rest of the patrons of Bobby's leisure palace.

Mr. Bourbon, that’s the guy who sang the song..

Bobby slowly blinks, then looks back at Carmen.

Carmen, I do appreciate the offer you have brought, such a gesture is not to be ignored, and by no means do I wish to seem ungrateful..

You do not like?

Oh, no, I love! This guy is provocative.

The talk of everybody on socials right now.

But in two weeks nobody is going to remember who the hell he is, he just cropped up during a slow news cycle, and as Duke of Bourbon, I insist on evergreen material!

Thrashing simps who will recoil back to insignificance in less than a month is what I intend to do at the Eiffel Tower.

Bobby looks at Aldean up and down.

Fuck, we’ve come a long way from Johnny Cash.

Mr. Bourbon, perhaps he just wanted to do something new.

Some new shit sucks.

Bobby looks up and over at the busiest attraction in his arcade, the air hockey table. Dominating yet another who has lined up to face them, Doctor Louis D’Ville puffs his cigarillo in victory. Doc glances over at Bobby. Bobby points at Aldean.

Doc, get this bozo out of here.

Of course, Bobby!

Doc approaches Jason Aldean. Aldean shivers, the gag in his mouth tightening at the sight of D’Ville.

Hello, my friend! Perhaps I will show you what I will try in this small town!

Bobby looks blankly at Bouncy.

Is that a reference to something I’m missing? Seriously, I haven’t heard this guy’s song or anything.

Mr. Bourbon, I think your associate Mr. D’Ville..

Ahem. Doctor D’Ville. I didn’t get my PhD for no reason.

Right. Doctor D’Ville made a pun using the song.

Doc grins, knowing he didn’t use evergreen material.

Hey, Louis!

Oh, hey Carm.

Pickleball this weekend?

Of course!

Doc escorts the country singer away, most likely to do the kind of stuff he likes to do to people, which while awful is often pretty well crafted. Maybe he’ll make him only eat via Doordash; try THAT in a small town!

That cunning bastard.

I thought that was you.

No, Miss Tote, you see, I’m simply the master of the house!

Bouncy shakes her head.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. No singing, Jesus, you’re terrible at it, sweetie, leave it to the professionals.

Okay, my dear, I won’t sing.

Thank God!

I won’t sing in front of you!

Bobby, I get you’re disappointed by the appearance of that doofy country singer who won’t be in the scope of the zeitgeist in a couple of days, there’s no reason to become demonstrative. As wily as you are a criminal, and as ferocious as you are a gladiator in the ring, you are absolutely at your worst when you sing.

Okay, geeze, I get it! I just, I dunno, I wanted to also open a Karaoke room in this place.

I thought we discussed that, Mr. Bourbon, anybody can hear anyone sing horribly in a million different places.

I know, Miss Tote, but how often do I get to sing badly?

It’s almost as though I have to sound perfect every time I get in front of the camera, I thought if I sang a song that was from the heart, true to my every fiber of being, well, it would give the people watching at home a glimpse into who I really am.

I promise, you do not sound like David Bowie no matter how drunk whoever is listening gets.

They could drink shoe polish with a bug spray chaser and still understand that you don’t sound like the Grand White Duke.

Yeah? Well, what about the Duke of Bourbon?

Mr. Bourbon, you already sound like that.

Fair enough, Miss Tote, fair enough. Well, if you’ll pardon me, and I can’t stress this enough, don’t eat the Bourbon Meat Pies, if you know you know, they’re strictly for tramps, poors, and dogs.

Bouncy and Carmen laugh.

Well, Bobby, it’s been a pleasure, by all means, Bouncy knows how to get in touch, do you mind if I get your number from her?

Sure, we’ll do lunch or something and make fun of someone who people will recognize in a decade.

As opposed to Ned Kaye, Dionysus, Jenny Myst, or Isaiah King. Y’all about to experience some shit in Paris when I go through you to show why I’m above you.

Bouncy and Carmen chuckle and make their way to a skee ball ramp. As they do, Bobby walks up a flight of stairs and out onto the veranda of the keep. Enjoying the solace of the night air, and without anybody to tell him not to, he looks into the camera and begins to sing Master of the House.

]]> <![CDATA[Foul Afflictions]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46618 Sat, 22 Jul 2023 23:52:58 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46618
Road to Recovery
Part XI

Foul Afflictions



Step 11. To better understand and embrace your principles.

July 20th, 2023
10:43 AM


Ned’s older brother had an adage that he would often repeat when bringing Ned to some new, unfamiliar house for a party: the worst homes were ones where you could smell the carpet. Ned hadn’t ever given the concept much thought, considering it a drunken cliche that would stumble from Nate’s mouth during the uncomfortable swan song of their youth. And yet, as he sat upon the matted fabric of a couch no younger than the New Deal, Mark Flynn sat uncomfortably on the opposite edge, Ned understood precisely what he meant. The carpet had a metaphorical miasma that overwhelmed every other scent, the principle one among them being the cigarette smoke leaking from Nancy Robins. She’d been mourning her daughter, Lilabeth, ever since Mark’s mistake two Warfares prior. Attempting to foil a madman with explosives, he’d mistakenly caused Lilabeth’s demise. Bill, Nancy’s husband and the departed’s father, fidgeted awkwardly in a chair separated entirely from his wife’s. The smoke wafted and spread through the living room, propelled by the cheap fan that spun above. Underneath the various scents and sights, one aroma barely clung to life, incapable of fully fading nor distinguishing itself.

Flowers. Gifts held over from the funeral, underwatered, but still fragrant despite it all. Nancy finished up her cigarette, leaving barely any tobacco and snuffing out the meager ember with a firm press against a glass ashtray near her, joining at least a dozen similar pillars of previous indulgence as she coughed, clearing her throat in a pyrrhic manner. Her skin was soft, the dark eyeliner smudged beneath her sockets. She held an aura that longed for the ability to process this pain. To hurt simply to remind herself of the sensation. She did not meet her husband’s eyes once the entire time.

“So,” Nancy questioned, her voice monotone, “what do you want?”

Ned glared at Mark, making it perfectly clear that he wasn’t confronting this guilt on Mark’s behalf. There was an impressive quality to Flynn’s ability to slip seamlessly into a performance, the sheer levels of suppression being difficult for most to even comprehend, let alone achieve.

But Mark fancied himself a professional.

“Y’see, Mrs. Robins, Webster’s Dictionary defines regret as-”

The entire room silently groaned in response, but Nancy’s stare paralyzed Flynn’s tongue in a manner even Ned couldn’t predict. Underneath all the masks, ploys, and performance was a human being. Someone who craved acceptance. Who wanted to be good.

Who murdered Michael Graves.

“WELL, NANCE.” Mark broke the silence with his trademark volume.

“…Pardon?” Nancy’s face didn’t shift a muscle. But she quietly exuded rage, such that Flynn’s thought caught in his throat.

… “I said ‘well…’ Then, I coughed.” Flynn sniffed, rubbing his nose. “See, it might’ve sounded like I shortened your name informally.” Flynn cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Not me, no sir. MA’AM, I mean.” Flynn slammed his fist down on his leg. “Wouldn’t EVER do that. Especially now! With the gravity of the situation?” Flynn flicked his wrist, dismissing the notion. “Absolutely not. Nope, just coughed.”

A pause.

“POINT BEING, MRS. ROBINS.” Flynn increased volume again, parsing for that perfect formula of words to absolve him. “…I’m here to say… I’m sorry. Lilabeth could’ve been a lot of things and… she… can’t.”

The more Mark ruminated on the situation, the larger the cracks grew. Standing quickly, he retrieved his wallet, removed a check and extended it toward Nancy, who swiftly retrieved it, her eyes never faltering from Flynn’s. He intentionally, without hesitation, retreated to his seat.

“That right there? The full amount for dear Lilabeth’s funeral expenses! Every penny paid for by yours truly! To compensate for the whole…”

“...Y’know.”

In better times, Nancy would have found that fire raging within her and ripped into Mark, throwing scathing insults with reckless abandon. However, that flame had been doused. Wrestlers roped her family into a violent, pointless struggle for their own purposes and agendas. Wrestlers made a point of benefiting off of every second of her existence for months.

She was long tired of wrestlers.

Tearing the check in half, she spoke, her voice a gravelly whisper that still managed to boom, “my family doesn’t need your money, Mr. Flynn. Nor do we want your help, thoughts, prayers or otherwise.”

“...Lady. I just wanna fix what I-” Mark said, desperation palpably mixed with his natural indignant tone.

“Fix?” She interrogated, “Fix what? What makes you possibly think that you can touch anything here and not have it come up broken? You know what I want more than any amount of money? I want you to know this feeling. I want to hate you, Mark. Every fiber of my being begs to and I can’t. You’ll never feel a fraction of my heartache. I begged for years for the Lord to improve her condition. Do you know how she was progressing towards the end there, Mr. Flynn?”

“Was… she getting better?” Ned didn’t often hear pure dread escape Mark. This instance, it flooded out.

Nancy almost smirked, as if her sense of irony gave its last, petering breath, “I have no earthly idea. I’ll never know. For you, she was just a prop to some fight you had. Meanwhile, I get to wake up, stroll back here and none of it looks familiar. I don’t even recognize my own home. You want forgiveness, Mr. Flynn? There isn’t anyone here to forgive you.”

She picked herself up, lighting a cigarette and resuming her reacquired bad habit, taking a long drag as she retired to the kitchen, turning around and giving a look to Ned, uttering one final thing.

“He’s a narcissist. What’s your excuse?”

Ned’s gaze lowered to the carpet, a hint of shame filling him. As his eyes focused, he felt the scent of the carpet intensify until Bill finally spoke.

“My wife is… hurting. But if you ask me, Flynn,” Bill’s tone took an unfamiliar edge, “that Graves son of a bitch deserved every bit. Thank you for sending him straight to hell.”

Mark’s demeanor lightened slightly with the approval. Ned’s did not.

As Ned stood to begin departing the house with Mark, he felt the world lightly spin around him, the sight of the floor seeming to extend. As much as he’d been able to avoid damage from the Bourbon cage match, his vertigo hadn’t eased. Thankfully, Kaye kept himself up, managing not to fall as Mark and he finally exited, seeing the pale, dead grass of the Robins’s yard, accented with a bleached stop sign nearby. There was momentary calm, until Mark nudged Ned’s shoulder.

“WHEW! That could’ve gone wayyyyy worse, Ned.”

He’s trying, the voice in Ned’s head insisted.

Mark cracked his knuckles, emboldened by Bill’s approval, “Deserved every bit, he says! The Good Guy clears away the street scum, Ned! Take note, might be viable branding there!”

He just needs patience. He doesn’t really know what he’s saying. Ned’s fist clenched hard, the ends of his nails sharp against his palm.

“Ned, I didn’t get why we came here at first, but it’s clear now. Great lesson: Being a good guy sometimes means taking out a bad gu-”

It surprised Ned how quickly it happened. His fist stung slightly from the clean blow against Flynn’s jaw, sending him toppling sideways. It surprised Mark moreso. Ned trembled a bit, letting the emotions settle as Mark jumped up angrily.

“THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!?”

Ned exhaled, shaking as the disgust and rage filled his veins, shaking his head in disbelief, “You just don’t fucking get it, do you?”

“I DO! I JUST SAID I UNDERSTAND FINALLY! Sometimes, we assess acceptable losses!”

“That’s the problem!” Ned’s voice had a righteous fury underlining it, “There aren’t “acceptable losses!” I don’t get the choice to decide if someone deserves to live! I don’t pretend to be worthy of making that judgment! Michael Graves was a vile monster whom the world will likely be better lacking, but you don’t get to strip justice or redemption from others! You don’t have that right and if you need an example of where it leads, talk to Lux!”

Flynn could masterfully scavenge some grain of logic to lift up a sea of absurdity. Yet, now, he listened, just holding his cheek.

“You… you thought all of this was about you and comforting you. You can recite title histories at the drop of a hat, but can’t comprehend the idea that, maybe, you need to see the results of what you do when you’re not careful!”

The defensive impulse in Mark summoned a reply from him, “OHHHHH, How TYPICAL! Saint NED, Holier-than-thou, wants to lecture ME about judgment! NEWS FLASH, BIG KAYE-HUNA! YOU do everything YOU can to dissect and decide everyone’s best parts. Fine, sure, no one made me a judge, but who the FUCK elected YOU the final voice on redemption, Nedster?!”

As much as Ned hated to admit it, no one had. He was just trying to lead by example. Attempting to show the world that his way worked. Yet here he was. Without a further word, Ned turned and began walking away, much to Flynn’s dismay. Flynn launched curses and egotistical proclamations, but none amounted to anything more than noise in Ned’s ears as he stepped away, Flynn’s voice fading further until it was gone.


1:03 PM


Ned rested his head on Darcy’s lap as she sat upon the bed, measuring out his hair through careful strokes. She’d worked to be more supportive throughout everything, especially given some of her past actions, but Ned seemed crestfallen. She’d be lying if she thought it couldn’t be a bit much at times, but then she imagined how it was inside his head.

It wasn’t a place she envied.

“If it makes you feel any better, I always thought he was a pretty huge jerk,” Darcy “consoled.”

“Believe it or not,” Ned gave a ponderous expression, “it doesn’t.”

Okay, Darcy, maybe not the best call.

She trailed her fingertips over his hair, frowning as she watched him stare at the ceiling, distracting himself with its details.

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked, her discomfort at asking something mushy obvious.

“What’s there to talk about? How I just keep watching people hurt others or myself and can’t get the hint?”

Darcy’s face curled downward. She hated seeing him self-flagellate like this, but holding himself responsible for everyone’s failures was how he operated. It was probably a Catholic thing, but it was his nature.

“Mark’s failures aren’t a reflection of you, Ned,” she placed a great amount of emphasis in the words, knowing he wouldn’t believe them.

“It’s not just Mark. Yeah, he disappointed me, but I’ve got Isaiah devoting his entire existence to taking me down, Amelia having gone through a whole crisis, and even Daniel,” his words hesitated at the mention of the man he once called a friend, Big D, Ned’s voice shaking, “he would rather be a puppet of someone to hurt me than be my friend. Maybe… maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I can’t simply trust people to try and better themselves for the sake of it.”

Darcy grew quiet, her hands still, following his logic to the other close friend who had wronged him in some manner this year: herself. Her body tensed as he looked upward, realizing what he had said without meaning to.

“Darcy, I didn’t mean it lik-”

“I know you didn’t,” she grew quiet, nudging him to sit up so she could have a little space, “but you sure know how to make someone feel low after the fact…”

Kaye took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. Just because I’m dealing with… all this, doesn’t mean you should feel like I think you’re some sort of liar or traitor waiting to happen. You know I want to help people… I guess I’m not sure what that looks like anymore right now.”

Darcy pulled herself up, grabbing a few of her things after glancing at the time, “I need to go see Amy, today’s her last day at the hospital anyway and she asked me to be there.”

“I’ll tag along,” Ned declared, Darcy shaking her head in disapproval as he looked on confusedly.

“You have to practice, Ned. Besides, I can’t have you fighting for attention while I’m trying to work.”

“Practice?” Ned chuckled a bit, “it’s not like I’ve got a personal trainer right now.”

Darcy slyly smiled as she looked towards the bedroom door, doing some quick calculations as she waited for the figure to reveal themself.

“Oh?”

Ned recognized the voice immediately, not believing his own ears until he saw Nate’s face.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Ned felt a tightening in his chest, a mixture of excitement and anxiety building in his lungs. Nate hadn’t wanted to be a part of his life in months and yet…he was here.

“Now,” Nate adjusted his shirt’s cuffs, smiling slyly, “Let’s get you up a tower.”




“Belief is something we take for granted until it is shaken. Like the ground beneath you, it’s easiest to appreciate when you’ve gone without. That is Leap of Faith distilled in its purest form. What will you believe in when the Earth below can’t promise you a safe place to stand?”

“My answer is myself. That’s what I believe in when the world’s upturned, something Jenny Myst sadly cannot relate to. Even with her progress, she’s still content to be Chris Chaos’s concept of a woman, just lacking his presence. Her entire life’s been performance for its own sake or being a doll for another to dress until she’s mindlessly going through motions, stuck in a Ferris Wheel car with no exit. The carnival of Myst’s life is one where the only prizes are a young woman’s trauma and the carnies consist of the most depraved men she can stumble into. Shit, I’d be scarfing down dog treats, too at that point. But a million different makeups can’t stop Jenny from being the person she is underneath: a people pleaser whose primary personality trait of the week is based on who she’s trying to impress or emulate.”

“But if we’re talking about hiding a face, we can’t dismiss Dionysus, a man so utterly humbled that the only way he can cope is by creating a handful of versions of himself, none of which particularly accomplish much. He was so sick of losing while being himself that he fractured into shards that can all lose together. And I’m not saying that winning is everything, but the second Dion traded his sense of self for a pile of masks was the second he truly lost. You’re a man starved for purpose and gorging on the possibility of a 24/7 briefcase. But all you have to eat are hopes, Dion. And if someone like Thunder Knuckles can so easily dash yours, then you were destined to return to your vineyard empty handed long before now.”

“But whose hands are perpetually emptier than that of Dolly Waters? At the core of Dolly is someone truly capable and she’s done any and everything to try and erase that person from existence. That’s why she keeps this rivalry with Corey Smith. Corey had to fight off an inner sickness and Dolly’s biggest issue is that she related to the illness. Even her occult schtick reeks of the rhetoric that surrounded The Engineer. In Dolly’s eyes, she’s the infection and that part of her with potential and compassion is the body she feasts on. Dolly would rather die the sad reflection of herself than live as a decent person. Deep down, she knows she’s unworthy of the Universal Championship, so she’ll squander every opportunity there. I’d pity you, Dolly, if you wouldn’t take that opportunity to try and put a dollar store curse on me.”

“Let’s be clear: Dolly will never outdo the synonymous relationship of squandering something good and Bobby Bourbon. I could sit here and reiterate why Bobby’s an insecure, inconsistent mess, but all you really need to know is that he saw Chris Page and Miss Fury sticking their fists up his ass and making him the dummy of their idiot crusade and his issue is that he didn’t have a puppet of his own. So, once he kicked out a corpse and a man who thinks his XWF spinoff is Frasier when it’s really Joey, he decided to go after my friend and accompany him to the dissolution of his personality. Bobby, you made this personal. You did it to feed your ego after I showed you your ass faster than a pair of mirrors. I’m not going to embarrass you, Bobby. I’m going to hurt you.”

“But my crusade isn’t the only one in this match, now is it? You’ve been waiting, foaming at the mouth for me to say something about you, haven’t you, Isaiah? You know what makes you the Kingslayer? The fact that your go-to move is career suicide. I may have taught you that you could bleed, but everything afterwards has been all you. You’re a man who pinned a reigning Universal Champion and instead of refining that talent, you wanna sully my wins because I made you realize that you are but a man? You are so deeply insecure that when I called you full of shit, you nearly had a meltdown over it. You think I try to be a hero to feed my ego because for you, that’s all it was. That’s all our WarGames team was in your eyes: a vehicle. Mark Flynn, flawed bastard he is, made greater strides than you. That’s not a hero complex, that’s a choice. You went all-in against The Ace. You pursued this confrontation since late last year. You believe this is what you want.”

“I am about to shatter that belief, Isaiah. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”]]>
Road to Recovery
Part XI

Foul Afflictions



Step 11. To better understand and embrace your principles.

July 20th, 2023
10:43 AM


Ned’s older brother had an adage that he would often repeat when bringing Ned to some new, unfamiliar house for a party: the worst homes were ones where you could smell the carpet. Ned hadn’t ever given the concept much thought, considering it a drunken cliche that would stumble from Nate’s mouth during the uncomfortable swan song of their youth. And yet, as he sat upon the matted fabric of a couch no younger than the New Deal, Mark Flynn sat uncomfortably on the opposite edge, Ned understood precisely what he meant. The carpet had a metaphorical miasma that overwhelmed every other scent, the principle one among them being the cigarette smoke leaking from Nancy Robins. She’d been mourning her daughter, Lilabeth, ever since Mark’s mistake two Warfares prior. Attempting to foil a madman with explosives, he’d mistakenly caused Lilabeth’s demise. Bill, Nancy’s husband and the departed’s father, fidgeted awkwardly in a chair separated entirely from his wife’s. The smoke wafted and spread through the living room, propelled by the cheap fan that spun above. Underneath the various scents and sights, one aroma barely clung to life, incapable of fully fading nor distinguishing itself.

Flowers. Gifts held over from the funeral, underwatered, but still fragrant despite it all. Nancy finished up her cigarette, leaving barely any tobacco and snuffing out the meager ember with a firm press against a glass ashtray near her, joining at least a dozen similar pillars of previous indulgence as she coughed, clearing her throat in a pyrrhic manner. Her skin was soft, the dark eyeliner smudged beneath her sockets. She held an aura that longed for the ability to process this pain. To hurt simply to remind herself of the sensation. She did not meet her husband’s eyes once the entire time.

“So,” Nancy questioned, her voice monotone, “what do you want?”

Ned glared at Mark, making it perfectly clear that he wasn’t confronting this guilt on Mark’s behalf. There was an impressive quality to Flynn’s ability to slip seamlessly into a performance, the sheer levels of suppression being difficult for most to even comprehend, let alone achieve.

But Mark fancied himself a professional.

“Y’see, Mrs. Robins, Webster’s Dictionary defines regret as-”

The entire room silently groaned in response, but Nancy’s stare paralyzed Flynn’s tongue in a manner even Ned couldn’t predict. Underneath all the masks, ploys, and performance was a human being. Someone who craved acceptance. Who wanted to be good.

Who murdered Michael Graves.

“WELL, NANCE.” Mark broke the silence with his trademark volume.

“…Pardon?” Nancy’s face didn’t shift a muscle. But she quietly exuded rage, such that Flynn’s thought caught in his throat.

… “I said ‘well…’ Then, I coughed.” Flynn sniffed, rubbing his nose. “See, it might’ve sounded like I shortened your name informally.” Flynn cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Not me, no sir. MA’AM, I mean.” Flynn slammed his fist down on his leg. “Wouldn’t EVER do that. Especially now! With the gravity of the situation?” Flynn flicked his wrist, dismissing the notion. “Absolutely not. Nope, just coughed.”

A pause.

“POINT BEING, MRS. ROBINS.” Flynn increased volume again, parsing for that perfect formula of words to absolve him. “…I’m here to say… I’m sorry. Lilabeth could’ve been a lot of things and… she… can’t.”

The more Mark ruminated on the situation, the larger the cracks grew. Standing quickly, he retrieved his wallet, removed a check and extended it toward Nancy, who swiftly retrieved it, her eyes never faltering from Flynn’s. He intentionally, without hesitation, retreated to his seat.

“That right there? The full amount for dear Lilabeth’s funeral expenses! Every penny paid for by yours truly! To compensate for the whole…”

“...Y’know.”

In better times, Nancy would have found that fire raging within her and ripped into Mark, throwing scathing insults with reckless abandon. However, that flame had been doused. Wrestlers roped her family into a violent, pointless struggle for their own purposes and agendas. Wrestlers made a point of benefiting off of every second of her existence for months.

She was long tired of wrestlers.

Tearing the check in half, she spoke, her voice a gravelly whisper that still managed to boom, “my family doesn’t need your money, Mr. Flynn. Nor do we want your help, thoughts, prayers or otherwise.”

“...Lady. I just wanna fix what I-” Mark said, desperation palpably mixed with his natural indignant tone.

“Fix?” She interrogated, “Fix what? What makes you possibly think that you can touch anything here and not have it come up broken? You know what I want more than any amount of money? I want you to know this feeling. I want to hate you, Mark. Every fiber of my being begs to and I can’t. You’ll never feel a fraction of my heartache. I begged for years for the Lord to improve her condition. Do you know how she was progressing towards the end there, Mr. Flynn?”

“Was… she getting better?” Ned didn’t often hear pure dread escape Mark. This instance, it flooded out.

Nancy almost smirked, as if her sense of irony gave its last, petering breath, “I have no earthly idea. I’ll never know. For you, she was just a prop to some fight you had. Meanwhile, I get to wake up, stroll back here and none of it looks familiar. I don’t even recognize my own home. You want forgiveness, Mr. Flynn? There isn’t anyone here to forgive you.”

She picked herself up, lighting a cigarette and resuming her reacquired bad habit, taking a long drag as she retired to the kitchen, turning around and giving a look to Ned, uttering one final thing.

“He’s a narcissist. What’s your excuse?”

Ned’s gaze lowered to the carpet, a hint of shame filling him. As his eyes focused, he felt the scent of the carpet intensify until Bill finally spoke.

“My wife is… hurting. But if you ask me, Flynn,” Bill’s tone took an unfamiliar edge, “that Graves son of a bitch deserved every bit. Thank you for sending him straight to hell.”

Mark’s demeanor lightened slightly with the approval. Ned’s did not.

As Ned stood to begin departing the house with Mark, he felt the world lightly spin around him, the sight of the floor seeming to extend. As much as he’d been able to avoid damage from the Bourbon cage match, his vertigo hadn’t eased. Thankfully, Kaye kept himself up, managing not to fall as Mark and he finally exited, seeing the pale, dead grass of the Robins’s yard, accented with a bleached stop sign nearby. There was momentary calm, until Mark nudged Ned’s shoulder.

“WHEW! That could’ve gone wayyyyy worse, Ned.”

He’s trying, the voice in Ned’s head insisted.

Mark cracked his knuckles, emboldened by Bill’s approval, “Deserved every bit, he says! The Good Guy clears away the street scum, Ned! Take note, might be viable branding there!”

He just needs patience. He doesn’t really know what he’s saying. Ned’s fist clenched hard, the ends of his nails sharp against his palm.

“Ned, I didn’t get why we came here at first, but it’s clear now. Great lesson: Being a good guy sometimes means taking out a bad gu-”

It surprised Ned how quickly it happened. His fist stung slightly from the clean blow against Flynn’s jaw, sending him toppling sideways. It surprised Mark moreso. Ned trembled a bit, letting the emotions settle as Mark jumped up angrily.

“THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!?”

Ned exhaled, shaking as the disgust and rage filled his veins, shaking his head in disbelief, “You just don’t fucking get it, do you?”

“I DO! I JUST SAID I UNDERSTAND FINALLY! Sometimes, we assess acceptable losses!”

“That’s the problem!” Ned’s voice had a righteous fury underlining it, “There aren’t “acceptable losses!” I don’t get the choice to decide if someone deserves to live! I don’t pretend to be worthy of making that judgment! Michael Graves was a vile monster whom the world will likely be better lacking, but you don’t get to strip justice or redemption from others! You don’t have that right and if you need an example of where it leads, talk to Lux!”

Flynn could masterfully scavenge some grain of logic to lift up a sea of absurdity. Yet, now, he listened, just holding his cheek.

“You… you thought all of this was about you and comforting you. You can recite title histories at the drop of a hat, but can’t comprehend the idea that, maybe, you need to see the results of what you do when you’re not careful!”

The defensive impulse in Mark summoned a reply from him, “OHHHHH, How TYPICAL! Saint NED, Holier-than-thou, wants to lecture ME about judgment! NEWS FLASH, BIG KAYE-HUNA! YOU do everything YOU can to dissect and decide everyone’s best parts. Fine, sure, no one made me a judge, but who the FUCK elected YOU the final voice on redemption, Nedster?!”

As much as Ned hated to admit it, no one had. He was just trying to lead by example. Attempting to show the world that his way worked. Yet here he was. Without a further word, Ned turned and began walking away, much to Flynn’s dismay. Flynn launched curses and egotistical proclamations, but none amounted to anything more than noise in Ned’s ears as he stepped away, Flynn’s voice fading further until it was gone.


1:03 PM


Ned rested his head on Darcy’s lap as she sat upon the bed, measuring out his hair through careful strokes. She’d worked to be more supportive throughout everything, especially given some of her past actions, but Ned seemed crestfallen. She’d be lying if she thought it couldn’t be a bit much at times, but then she imagined how it was inside his head.

It wasn’t a place she envied.

“If it makes you feel any better, I always thought he was a pretty huge jerk,” Darcy “consoled.”

“Believe it or not,” Ned gave a ponderous expression, “it doesn’t.”

Okay, Darcy, maybe not the best call.

She trailed her fingertips over his hair, frowning as she watched him stare at the ceiling, distracting himself with its details.

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked, her discomfort at asking something mushy obvious.

“What’s there to talk about? How I just keep watching people hurt others or myself and can’t get the hint?”

Darcy’s face curled downward. She hated seeing him self-flagellate like this, but holding himself responsible for everyone’s failures was how he operated. It was probably a Catholic thing, but it was his nature.

“Mark’s failures aren’t a reflection of you, Ned,” she placed a great amount of emphasis in the words, knowing he wouldn’t believe them.

“It’s not just Mark. Yeah, he disappointed me, but I’ve got Isaiah devoting his entire existence to taking me down, Amelia having gone through a whole crisis, and even Daniel,” his words hesitated at the mention of the man he once called a friend, Big D, Ned’s voice shaking, “he would rather be a puppet of someone to hurt me than be my friend. Maybe… maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I can’t simply trust people to try and better themselves for the sake of it.”

Darcy grew quiet, her hands still, following his logic to the other close friend who had wronged him in some manner this year: herself. Her body tensed as he looked upward, realizing what he had said without meaning to.

“Darcy, I didn’t mean it lik-”

“I know you didn’t,” she grew quiet, nudging him to sit up so she could have a little space, “but you sure know how to make someone feel low after the fact…”

Kaye took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. Just because I’m dealing with… all this, doesn’t mean you should feel like I think you’re some sort of liar or traitor waiting to happen. You know I want to help people… I guess I’m not sure what that looks like anymore right now.”

Darcy pulled herself up, grabbing a few of her things after glancing at the time, “I need to go see Amy, today’s her last day at the hospital anyway and she asked me to be there.”

“I’ll tag along,” Ned declared, Darcy shaking her head in disapproval as he looked on confusedly.

“You have to practice, Ned. Besides, I can’t have you fighting for attention while I’m trying to work.”

“Practice?” Ned chuckled a bit, “it’s not like I’ve got a personal trainer right now.”

Darcy slyly smiled as she looked towards the bedroom door, doing some quick calculations as she waited for the figure to reveal themself.

“Oh?”

Ned recognized the voice immediately, not believing his own ears until he saw Nate’s face.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Ned felt a tightening in his chest, a mixture of excitement and anxiety building in his lungs. Nate hadn’t wanted to be a part of his life in months and yet…he was here.

“Now,” Nate adjusted his shirt’s cuffs, smiling slyly, “Let’s get you up a tower.”




“Belief is something we take for granted until it is shaken. Like the ground beneath you, it’s easiest to appreciate when you’ve gone without. That is Leap of Faith distilled in its purest form. What will you believe in when the Earth below can’t promise you a safe place to stand?”

“My answer is myself. That’s what I believe in when the world’s upturned, something Jenny Myst sadly cannot relate to. Even with her progress, she’s still content to be Chris Chaos’s concept of a woman, just lacking his presence. Her entire life’s been performance for its own sake or being a doll for another to dress until she’s mindlessly going through motions, stuck in a Ferris Wheel car with no exit. The carnival of Myst’s life is one where the only prizes are a young woman’s trauma and the carnies consist of the most depraved men she can stumble into. Shit, I’d be scarfing down dog treats, too at that point. But a million different makeups can’t stop Jenny from being the person she is underneath: a people pleaser whose primary personality trait of the week is based on who she’s trying to impress or emulate.”

“But if we’re talking about hiding a face, we can’t dismiss Dionysus, a man so utterly humbled that the only way he can cope is by creating a handful of versions of himself, none of which particularly accomplish much. He was so sick of losing while being himself that he fractured into shards that can all lose together. And I’m not saying that winning is everything, but the second Dion traded his sense of self for a pile of masks was the second he truly lost. You’re a man starved for purpose and gorging on the possibility of a 24/7 briefcase. But all you have to eat are hopes, Dion. And if someone like Thunder Knuckles can so easily dash yours, then you were destined to return to your vineyard empty handed long before now.”

“But whose hands are perpetually emptier than that of Dolly Waters? At the core of Dolly is someone truly capable and she’s done any and everything to try and erase that person from existence. That’s why she keeps this rivalry with Corey Smith. Corey had to fight off an inner sickness and Dolly’s biggest issue is that she related to the illness. Even her occult schtick reeks of the rhetoric that surrounded The Engineer. In Dolly’s eyes, she’s the infection and that part of her with potential and compassion is the body she feasts on. Dolly would rather die the sad reflection of herself than live as a decent person. Deep down, she knows she’s unworthy of the Universal Championship, so she’ll squander every opportunity there. I’d pity you, Dolly, if you wouldn’t take that opportunity to try and put a dollar store curse on me.”

“Let’s be clear: Dolly will never outdo the synonymous relationship of squandering something good and Bobby Bourbon. I could sit here and reiterate why Bobby’s an insecure, inconsistent mess, but all you really need to know is that he saw Chris Page and Miss Fury sticking their fists up his ass and making him the dummy of their idiot crusade and his issue is that he didn’t have a puppet of his own. So, once he kicked out a corpse and a man who thinks his XWF spinoff is Frasier when it’s really Joey, he decided to go after my friend and accompany him to the dissolution of his personality. Bobby, you made this personal. You did it to feed your ego after I showed you your ass faster than a pair of mirrors. I’m not going to embarrass you, Bobby. I’m going to hurt you.”

“But my crusade isn’t the only one in this match, now is it? You’ve been waiting, foaming at the mouth for me to say something about you, haven’t you, Isaiah? You know what makes you the Kingslayer? The fact that your go-to move is career suicide. I may have taught you that you could bleed, but everything afterwards has been all you. You’re a man who pinned a reigning Universal Champion and instead of refining that talent, you wanna sully my wins because I made you realize that you are but a man? You are so deeply insecure that when I called you full of shit, you nearly had a meltdown over it. You think I try to be a hero to feed my ego because for you, that’s all it was. That’s all our WarGames team was in your eyes: a vehicle. Mark Flynn, flawed bastard he is, made greater strides than you. That’s not a hero complex, that’s a choice. You went all-in against The Ace. You pursued this confrontation since late last year. You believe this is what you want.”

“I am about to shatter that belief, Isaiah. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”]]> <![CDATA[Four in a row]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46619 Sat, 22 Jul 2023 22:57:46 -0700 Angelica Vaughn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46619 New York City
One week before Leap of Faith
Angelica’s connecting flight to Paris was going to be a while. There was a pilot strike going on, apparently, and while it was inconvenient, Angelica couldn’t really blame anyone who was trying to stand up for their own rights. Protest, peaceful or otherwise, was the backbone of most modern day societies, and forevermore an instigator of change. And on top of that, it gave her an excuse to go out and about in the Big Apple, a place she hadn’t visited in what seemed like forever.

It was so different from any other city she’d ever seen. Over the past few years, Angelica had gotten used to the relative solitude of a Texan ranch, but even Chicago (where she had worked weekly shows for a long time) could not quite live up to New York, New York. Let alone Vancouver. Everywhere you looked, there was something to see, whether it was smoke and vapor rising from the sewage drains, the neverending scaffolds that lined seemingly every building, the thousands of bars and shops; and of course, the magnificent skyline, with seemingly every building being some kind of historic landmark.

So Angelica was enjoying the sights, with her purse over one shoulder, and a slice of NY pizza in her free hand. When in Rome, right? She looked like quite the tourist. And as soon as she started to wonder whether she would pay her old mentor a visit over at Mount Sinai, a limousine rolled up next to her, and two guys who looked like the most stereotypical bodyguards imaginable stepped out. Black-and-white suit, dark sunglasses, clean shaven, broad-shouldered, and an earpiece for direct communication with whoever was overseeing them. They blocked Angelica’s path, who barely even noticed, since she was looking up at the Empire State Building in the distance.

Bodyguard: “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. We have orders to take you in.”

Angelica was woken up out of her daydream and frowned, not fully realizing what was going on.

”Huh? Take me in? What are you guys, FBI or something? Because then you’re going to have to show me some ID, sir."

Bodyguard: “We’re not government, ma’am.”

”Miss, axly."

Bodyguard: “Sorry, miss. Nothing to worry about, as I said. It’s just a social call. Our employer would like to speak with you.”

”Then why are you standing in front of me, rather than your employer? Whoever that person is?"

Angelica wasn’t about to step into some car without knowing precisely what she was getting into. She’d almost been properly kidnapped in the build-up to War Games, she wasn’t about to let that happen a second time. Vita, Raion and Mr. Oz weren’t here to bust her out this time.

The bodyguard nodded as if he understood. He reached for something in his breast pocket, and handed it over to Angelica. It was a small business card, but it contained no name. Only a Bible verse.

Quote:
Proverbs: 18:10
The name of the LORD is a strong tower; The righteous runs to it and is safe and set on high [far above evil]

The words in bold caught her eye immediately.

”Tower… High… Hightower! That’s my mom’s name? But I’m not… Ohh, I think I understand now…"

Here, in New York, it could only mean one thing. She knew who wanted to see her, and given what she knew about him, this kind of fit his MO.

”Okies, fine, I suppose. What’s the plan, how do we do this? Is he in the limo?"

Bodyguard: “Not quite, ma… Miss. Our instructions are to bring you to him. It’s not a long drive.”

Angelica got into the limousine, although she was still wondering if this was actually a good idea. Distractions were dangerous, and if she were to miss her flight to Paris, her whole schedule of training and preparation for Leap of Faith was going to be disrupted. She was in for her third defense of the TV title, and as taxing and demanding as it was to have to defend it every single show, PPV or not, she was determined not to fail. She had been overlooked enough during her XWF career, and she was on a good streak that she didn’t want to end. But it required hard work, a ton of motivation, and smart preparation. Anyone who claimed that wins came easy to them, were lying about not putting in any work. Angelica had figured that out when she’d seen Roxy become a multi-time World Champion. Even she worked harder for her success than she would ever care to admit. Those who didn’t do things the right way, the smart way, they crashed and burned sooner rather than later. Angelica had no intention of doing that any time soon, but intentions meant nothing if your actions didn’t live up to them.

Inside the limousine there was a bottle of champagne sitting in a cooler. It looked tempting, but Angelica wanted a clear mind for what was to come. Instead, she ate the last of her pizza and dumped the napkin in the glass so she wouldn’t be able to change her mind later. The limo took her towards the edge of Central Park and through to the Upper West Side. They finally stopped at a tall apartment building. Angelica was pretty certain these places were extremely exclusive, not to mention expensive, but wasn’t terribly surprised that these guys’ employer could afford one.

When they arrived, one of the bodyguards held the door open for her. Angelica felt a bit uneasy. She didn’t like being “served” like this. She was perfectly capable of opening her own doors, pushing her own buttons, and whatnot, thank you very much. But these guys would probably get an earful and a week’s wage worth of fines if they didn’t do as instructed, so she wasn’t going to make a big spectacle out of it.

During the elevator ride, she felt herself getting nervous. It was weird, because she was pretty certain there was nothing to worry about… or was there? It had been a while since she’d been in New York, true, but there were other  means of communicating than a face-to-face meeting, even if you were kind of old school. So the news had to be somewhat important, considering all the trouble *he* was going through to get her here. Even so, Angelica didn’t exactly appreciate being summoned like this.

The elevator door opened with a *ding*, and Angelica stepped right into the apartment. Well, this ‘apartment’ was probably bigger than many people’s houses, and the entrance hall alone was spacious enough to house a family of four. The interior was a bit kitschy for Angelica’s tastes, but that was probably because a lot of it was decades or centuries old and above all: pricey. Sarah would probably like it a lot. The chandelier was the most beautiful piece by far, with its thousands of clear-cut tiny diamonds decorating it. It probably cost more than Angelica’s entire ranch, land and all. But anyway, she wasn’t here for the decorations.

She finally saw the apartment’s owner. He was slightly smaller than Angelica was. She couldn’t see his face as he was looking out of the window towards Central Park, but he was clothed in an immaculate designer suit. Even so, all that was left of his hair was a ring around his temples and the back of his head. It would probably look better if he’d had it all shaven off, but hair was a point of pride for a lot of men, no matter how little they had left. As Angelica subtly coughed to announce her presence, he finally turned around. His face was old and sunken, and he needed thick glasses to see. The look on his face was stern, yet his mouth betrayed a hint of a smile as he saw her.

"Angelica…"

”Great-grampaw!"

Tom Hightower flinched at being called that, but he quickly regained his composure. He wasn’t used to being spoken to in so casual a manner, but he let it slide. Angelica was, after all, his great-granddaughter. Not that he had ever extended the same courtesy to his son, or granddaughter. Maybe he had mellowed a bit in his old age.

Tom went over to a big, majestic table and invited her to sit. A servant came over in a hurry, ready to pour them a glass of brandy. An old school custom. Angelica was glad she’d been able to resist the limo’s champagne, but felt it would be rude not to reciprocate as her great-grandfather held up his glass.

"To your good health… and to your many successes and victories to come."

Angelica held her glass up and followed his example by downing it in one go. But enough pleasantries, she thought.

”I’m… Surprised you wanted to see me. Not that it isn’t good to see you, obvs! It’s just, it’s been a while. I kinda got the feeling you didn’t want anything to do with us anymore. I never hear from you!"

"I’m a busy man. When you’ve worked so hard to build what I have, you don’t get the luxury of retirement. But…"

His face grew more serious.

"I will be honest with you, Angelica. I’m old. I’m tired. I can feel it in my bones. The doctors aren’t optimistic either. I fear I’m not long for this world, anymore."

Angelica’s heart started to race. Quite a bombshell to drop like this. Her suspicion made way for sadness.

”I’m… so sorry."

"Save it. I didn’t bring you here because I wanted your pity. I brought you here because when it comes to family, you’re the only one I can be proud of, even if I have done nothing to turn you into the woman you are today. My son, your grandfather, he was a failure on every level. Given every advantage in life, only to piss it all away and run off to some hippie commune so he could smoke all the drugs he wanted and bear zero responsibilities."

Angelica wanted to chastise him for being so mean towards his own son, but he did have a point. Her grandfather was currently living rent-free on her own ranch, right on the borders of Lacklanland, much to the chagrin of its inhabitants, let alone its ruler. That whole situation was a ticking time bomb, and it was going to have to be dealt with sooner or later.

"My two illegitimate children I haven’t seen nor heard of, nor do I care to. They don’t know who I am, and all the better for it."

Angelica did want to know. If she had more family out there, wasn’t it worth finding out who they were? Nevertheless, it seemed unwise to press him about this at this point.

”So why have you called me here, then? To… say your goodbyes?"

"Not exactly."

Thomas got up, and walked back over to the window, turning his back to Angelica.

"Angelica, when I say you are my only relative I feel proud of, I mean it. I gave my son everything, but he squandered it. He was given every advantage, and didn’t take a single one. But you… You were given nothing. You spent your childhood under the yoke of a kidnapping tyrant whose only purpose in life was to keep you down and stop you from reaching your potential. Had I known then, the woman you would become in spite of it all, I would have made an effort to find you. Not just that, but raise you. And maybe even have found your real father’s identity so you and your sister could have known each other.

I’d have sent you to LaGuardia. Columbia. You would’ve been even more formidable than you are today. But let’s not speak in hypotheticals."

Angelica didn’t know what to say. For so long, the only ‘alternative’ childhood she had imagined was one where Jean-Paul Lacklan had found out about her and had taken her in so she and Sarah could grow up together. Not once had she considered that the family on her mother’s side could’ve done something similar.

"In spite of everything, you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and not only became a world-renowned athlete, making a name for yourself in sports and sports entertainment; but you became a successful businesswoman in your own right. You had nothing, came from nothing; and yet, you’ve managed to put yourself in a position where you now provide for those who are meant to provide for you. Your mother is a kind soul, but she is weak, and she is a sheep. I believe you are more than that. Which is why I want to leave it all to you, Angelica. When I pass, you get everything. My fortune. The stakes in my firm. My properties. You will put them to good use, I’m sure."

”I… I don’t know what to say."

Angelica was shocked. She hadn’t seen this coming.

"Then don’t. Think about it, and we will discuss it further over dinner."

”But… my plane… to Paris?"

"We’ll have you fly private tomorrow. The strikes will probably last until then, anyway. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Make yourself at home."

Thomas left behind a flabbergasted Angelica, who sat at the table in stunned silence for a few minutes. She didn’t know whether to be sad, happy, relieved, or what… The best way, as always, was to rant about her feelings. That was what they were supposed to do after all, right? Time for some #CoolTube!

[Image: dNzoMKD.jpg]

”Hi there, Vaughnstars! Welcome back to the show of the Ang Gang! It’s… a bit of a rollercoaster, these days. It’s kind of weird, when all your life you’ve been told you’re not good enough. And then suddenly, out of the blue, someone comes along and tells you that not only are you good enough, you are the BEST! I’m not used to hearing that. Not when I was growing up, and definitely not during my wrestling career, no matter how successful I’ve been. Every single show it's the same song and dance.

‘Angie sucks. Lacklan light. Bla bla bla.’

Well, guess what? Leap of Faith is around the corner, and it’s time for my third defense, muchachos. That’s right, I took this hot potato of a TV title and gave it some stability. And now, I am looking to make it four in a row. Against the newest member, it seems, of BOB.

And you could be forgiven for not even realizing that BOB is still a thing. Sure, sure, Bobby Bourbz is super duper strong, Nickleman is who he is… And it’s not quite the same BOB that it used to be, in more ways than one. It’s not exactly the Miss Fury-run BOB of yesteryear, is it? But the thought remains the same. All BOB has ever done, is hurt people. Whether they belonged to the group, or not. And ultimately, my opponent will get hurt by it. Emotionally, or physically. That’s all that stable, or ‘brotherhood’ has ever done to anyone.

Now, BOB D, gosh that feels weird to say out loud but I suppose it beats the alternative… BOB D, I am wary of what you bring to the table. For the first time in my XWF career, it feels like people are looking at the card and are going ‘hmm yeah, Angie’s got this for sure!’ And that’s the most dangerous thing of them all. Complacency breeds incompetence, in spite of talent. Well, if there’s one thing I am not, it is complacent. I always try to become better at everything I do. With mixed results sometimes, as we saw on Celebrity Masterchef, but still… Can’t blame me for a lack of trying!

N-E-Wayz, like I said: four in a row. Dionysus just took the title from Isaiah King when he thought I’d be easy pickings, but like I said: complacency is a poison. He was on Cloud Nine before he got kicked off. But hey, that title was a hot potato, so everyone assumed I’d drop it to Noah Jackson right away. But nuh-uh, I overcame. And then, I beat Alex Richards inside HECK ITSELF, and he up and left the entire company right after. Some people would brag about that and claim they are the ones who beat Alex so badly he retired, but not me. It’s tempting, but if complacency is a poison, then gloating over one’s misfortune is surely toxic.

In any case, I don’t expect you to roll over, Bi-… Err, BOB D. I like to think I’ve come up with two fun stipulations for my last two defenses, so let’s go with another fun one. Since I aim to make it four in a row, let’s turn our match into the most violent game ever of…


So here’s the rules: first to connect 4 wins, obvs. BUT! The board will be placed at the top of the ramp. There will be no count-outs in this match, but you can only put in one piece at a time. You can’t put in another one until you’ve spent at least thirty seconds back in the ring.

So like I said, no real count-outs, no weapons allowed other than the environment, and your most important weapon just might be your thinking brainbox anyhoo!

Oh, and if you’re thinking about having your BOB buddies involved, outside interference in regards to me, the board, or the pieces, will result in an instant DQ. Them’s the rules!

So see you in France, BOB D! J’espère que notre match sera fantastique! Je suis sûr que les fans l’aimeront. Restes certain, je resterai champion du television, mon ami. Je connecterai quatre pieces, et quatre victoires. A Paris! C’est un peu poetique, non?

Au revoir!"]]> New York City
One week before Leap of Faith
Angelica’s connecting flight to Paris was going to be a while. There was a pilot strike going on, apparently, and while it was inconvenient, Angelica couldn’t really blame anyone who was trying to stand up for their own rights. Protest, peaceful or otherwise, was the backbone of most modern day societies, and forevermore an instigator of change. And on top of that, it gave her an excuse to go out and about in the Big Apple, a place she hadn’t visited in what seemed like forever.

It was so different from any other city she’d ever seen. Over the past few years, Angelica had gotten used to the relative solitude of a Texan ranch, but even Chicago (where she had worked weekly shows for a long time) could not quite live up to New York, New York. Let alone Vancouver. Everywhere you looked, there was something to see, whether it was smoke and vapor rising from the sewage drains, the neverending scaffolds that lined seemingly every building, the thousands of bars and shops; and of course, the magnificent skyline, with seemingly every building being some kind of historic landmark.

So Angelica was enjoying the sights, with her purse over one shoulder, and a slice of NY pizza in her free hand. When in Rome, right? She looked like quite the tourist. And as soon as she started to wonder whether she would pay her old mentor a visit over at Mount Sinai, a limousine rolled up next to her, and two guys who looked like the most stereotypical bodyguards imaginable stepped out. Black-and-white suit, dark sunglasses, clean shaven, broad-shouldered, and an earpiece for direct communication with whoever was overseeing them. They blocked Angelica’s path, who barely even noticed, since she was looking up at the Empire State Building in the distance.

Bodyguard: “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. We have orders to take you in.”

Angelica was woken up out of her daydream and frowned, not fully realizing what was going on.

”Huh? Take me in? What are you guys, FBI or something? Because then you’re going to have to show me some ID, sir."

Bodyguard: “We’re not government, ma’am.”

”Miss, axly."

Bodyguard: “Sorry, miss. Nothing to worry about, as I said. It’s just a social call. Our employer would like to speak with you.”

”Then why are you standing in front of me, rather than your employer? Whoever that person is?"

Angelica wasn’t about to step into some car without knowing precisely what she was getting into. She’d almost been properly kidnapped in the build-up to War Games, she wasn’t about to let that happen a second time. Vita, Raion and Mr. Oz weren’t here to bust her out this time.

The bodyguard nodded as if he understood. He reached for something in his breast pocket, and handed it over to Angelica. It was a small business card, but it contained no name. Only a Bible verse.

Quote:
Proverbs: 18:10
The name of the LORD is a strong tower; The righteous runs to it and is safe and set on high [far above evil]

The words in bold caught her eye immediately.

”Tower… High… Hightower! That’s my mom’s name? But I’m not… Ohh, I think I understand now…"

Here, in New York, it could only mean one thing. She knew who wanted to see her, and given what she knew about him, this kind of fit his MO.

”Okies, fine, I suppose. What’s the plan, how do we do this? Is he in the limo?"

Bodyguard: “Not quite, ma… Miss. Our instructions are to bring you to him. It’s not a long drive.”

Angelica got into the limousine, although she was still wondering if this was actually a good idea. Distractions were dangerous, and if she were to miss her flight to Paris, her whole schedule of training and preparation for Leap of Faith was going to be disrupted. She was in for her third defense of the TV title, and as taxing and demanding as it was to have to defend it every single show, PPV or not, she was determined not to fail. She had been overlooked enough during her XWF career, and she was on a good streak that she didn’t want to end. But it required hard work, a ton of motivation, and smart preparation. Anyone who claimed that wins came easy to them, were lying about not putting in any work. Angelica had figured that out when she’d seen Roxy become a multi-time World Champion. Even she worked harder for her success than she would ever care to admit. Those who didn’t do things the right way, the smart way, they crashed and burned sooner rather than later. Angelica had no intention of doing that any time soon, but intentions meant nothing if your actions didn’t live up to them.

Inside the limousine there was a bottle of champagne sitting in a cooler. It looked tempting, but Angelica wanted a clear mind for what was to come. Instead, she ate the last of her pizza and dumped the napkin in the glass so she wouldn’t be able to change her mind later. The limo took her towards the edge of Central Park and through to the Upper West Side. They finally stopped at a tall apartment building. Angelica was pretty certain these places were extremely exclusive, not to mention expensive, but wasn’t terribly surprised that these guys’ employer could afford one.

When they arrived, one of the bodyguards held the door open for her. Angelica felt a bit uneasy. She didn’t like being “served” like this. She was perfectly capable of opening her own doors, pushing her own buttons, and whatnot, thank you very much. But these guys would probably get an earful and a week’s wage worth of fines if they didn’t do as instructed, so she wasn’t going to make a big spectacle out of it.

During the elevator ride, she felt herself getting nervous. It was weird, because she was pretty certain there was nothing to worry about… or was there? It had been a while since she’d been in New York, true, but there were other  means of communicating than a face-to-face meeting, even if you were kind of old school. So the news had to be somewhat important, considering all the trouble *he* was going through to get her here. Even so, Angelica didn’t exactly appreciate being summoned like this.

The elevator door opened with a *ding*, and Angelica stepped right into the apartment. Well, this ‘apartment’ was probably bigger than many people’s houses, and the entrance hall alone was spacious enough to house a family of four. The interior was a bit kitschy for Angelica’s tastes, but that was probably because a lot of it was decades or centuries old and above all: pricey. Sarah would probably like it a lot. The chandelier was the most beautiful piece by far, with its thousands of clear-cut tiny diamonds decorating it. It probably cost more than Angelica’s entire ranch, land and all. But anyway, she wasn’t here for the decorations.

She finally saw the apartment’s owner. He was slightly smaller than Angelica was. She couldn’t see his face as he was looking out of the window towards Central Park, but he was clothed in an immaculate designer suit. Even so, all that was left of his hair was a ring around his temples and the back of his head. It would probably look better if he’d had it all shaven off, but hair was a point of pride for a lot of men, no matter how little they had left. As Angelica subtly coughed to announce her presence, he finally turned around. His face was old and sunken, and he needed thick glasses to see. The look on his face was stern, yet his mouth betrayed a hint of a smile as he saw her.

"Angelica…"

”Great-grampaw!"

Tom Hightower flinched at being called that, but he quickly regained his composure. He wasn’t used to being spoken to in so casual a manner, but he let it slide. Angelica was, after all, his great-granddaughter. Not that he had ever extended the same courtesy to his son, or granddaughter. Maybe he had mellowed a bit in his old age.

Tom went over to a big, majestic table and invited her to sit. A servant came over in a hurry, ready to pour them a glass of brandy. An old school custom. Angelica was glad she’d been able to resist the limo’s champagne, but felt it would be rude not to reciprocate as her great-grandfather held up his glass.

"To your good health… and to your many successes and victories to come."

Angelica held her glass up and followed his example by downing it in one go. But enough pleasantries, she thought.

”I’m… Surprised you wanted to see me. Not that it isn’t good to see you, obvs! It’s just, it’s been a while. I kinda got the feeling you didn’t want anything to do with us anymore. I never hear from you!"

"I’m a busy man. When you’ve worked so hard to build what I have, you don’t get the luxury of retirement. But…"

His face grew more serious.

"I will be honest with you, Angelica. I’m old. I’m tired. I can feel it in my bones. The doctors aren’t optimistic either. I fear I’m not long for this world, anymore."

Angelica’s heart started to race. Quite a bombshell to drop like this. Her suspicion made way for sadness.

”I’m… so sorry."

"Save it. I didn’t bring you here because I wanted your pity. I brought you here because when it comes to family, you’re the only one I can be proud of, even if I have done nothing to turn you into the woman you are today. My son, your grandfather, he was a failure on every level. Given every advantage in life, only to piss it all away and run off to some hippie commune so he could smoke all the drugs he wanted and bear zero responsibilities."

Angelica wanted to chastise him for being so mean towards his own son, but he did have a point. Her grandfather was currently living rent-free on her own ranch, right on the borders of Lacklanland, much to the chagrin of its inhabitants, let alone its ruler. That whole situation was a ticking time bomb, and it was going to have to be dealt with sooner or later.

"My two illegitimate children I haven’t seen nor heard of, nor do I care to. They don’t know who I am, and all the better for it."

Angelica did want to know. If she had more family out there, wasn’t it worth finding out who they were? Nevertheless, it seemed unwise to press him about this at this point.

”So why have you called me here, then? To… say your goodbyes?"

"Not exactly."

Thomas got up, and walked back over to the window, turning his back to Angelica.

"Angelica, when I say you are my only relative I feel proud of, I mean it. I gave my son everything, but he squandered it. He was given every advantage, and didn’t take a single one. But you… You were given nothing. You spent your childhood under the yoke of a kidnapping tyrant whose only purpose in life was to keep you down and stop you from reaching your potential. Had I known then, the woman you would become in spite of it all, I would have made an effort to find you. Not just that, but raise you. And maybe even have found your real father’s identity so you and your sister could have known each other.

I’d have sent you to LaGuardia. Columbia. You would’ve been even more formidable than you are today. But let’s not speak in hypotheticals."

Angelica didn’t know what to say. For so long, the only ‘alternative’ childhood she had imagined was one where Jean-Paul Lacklan had found out about her and had taken her in so she and Sarah could grow up together. Not once had she considered that the family on her mother’s side could’ve done something similar.

"In spite of everything, you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and not only became a world-renowned athlete, making a name for yourself in sports and sports entertainment; but you became a successful businesswoman in your own right. You had nothing, came from nothing; and yet, you’ve managed to put yourself in a position where you now provide for those who are meant to provide for you. Your mother is a kind soul, but she is weak, and she is a sheep. I believe you are more than that. Which is why I want to leave it all to you, Angelica. When I pass, you get everything. My fortune. The stakes in my firm. My properties. You will put them to good use, I’m sure."

”I… I don’t know what to say."

Angelica was shocked. She hadn’t seen this coming.

"Then don’t. Think about it, and we will discuss it further over dinner."

”But… my plane… to Paris?"

"We’ll have you fly private tomorrow. The strikes will probably last until then, anyway. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Make yourself at home."

Thomas left behind a flabbergasted Angelica, who sat at the table in stunned silence for a few minutes. She didn’t know whether to be sad, happy, relieved, or what… The best way, as always, was to rant about her feelings. That was what they were supposed to do after all, right? Time for some #CoolTube!

[Image: dNzoMKD.jpg]

”Hi there, Vaughnstars! Welcome back to the show of the Ang Gang! It’s… a bit of a rollercoaster, these days. It’s kind of weird, when all your life you’ve been told you’re not good enough. And then suddenly, out of the blue, someone comes along and tells you that not only are you good enough, you are the BEST! I’m not used to hearing that. Not when I was growing up, and definitely not during my wrestling career, no matter how successful I’ve been. Every single show it's the same song and dance.

‘Angie sucks. Lacklan light. Bla bla bla.’

Well, guess what? Leap of Faith is around the corner, and it’s time for my third defense, muchachos. That’s right, I took this hot potato of a TV title and gave it some stability. And now, I am looking to make it four in a row. Against the newest member, it seems, of BOB.

And you could be forgiven for not even realizing that BOB is still a thing. Sure, sure, Bobby Bourbz is super duper strong, Nickleman is who he is… And it’s not quite the same BOB that it used to be, in more ways than one. It’s not exactly the Miss Fury-run BOB of yesteryear, is it? But the thought remains the same. All BOB has ever done, is hurt people. Whether they belonged to the group, or not. And ultimately, my opponent will get hurt by it. Emotionally, or physically. That’s all that stable, or ‘brotherhood’ has ever done to anyone.

Now, BOB D, gosh that feels weird to say out loud but I suppose it beats the alternative… BOB D, I am wary of what you bring to the table. For the first time in my XWF career, it feels like people are looking at the card and are going ‘hmm yeah, Angie’s got this for sure!’ And that’s the most dangerous thing of them all. Complacency breeds incompetence, in spite of talent. Well, if there’s one thing I am not, it is complacent. I always try to become better at everything I do. With mixed results sometimes, as we saw on Celebrity Masterchef, but still… Can’t blame me for a lack of trying!

N-E-Wayz, like I said: four in a row. Dionysus just took the title from Isaiah King when he thought I’d be easy pickings, but like I said: complacency is a poison. He was on Cloud Nine before he got kicked off. But hey, that title was a hot potato, so everyone assumed I’d drop it to Noah Jackson right away. But nuh-uh, I overcame. And then, I beat Alex Richards inside HECK ITSELF, and he up and left the entire company right after. Some people would brag about that and claim they are the ones who beat Alex so badly he retired, but not me. It’s tempting, but if complacency is a poison, then gloating over one’s misfortune is surely toxic.

In any case, I don’t expect you to roll over, Bi-… Err, BOB D. I like to think I’ve come up with two fun stipulations for my last two defenses, so let’s go with another fun one. Since I aim to make it four in a row, let’s turn our match into the most violent game ever of…


So here’s the rules: first to connect 4 wins, obvs. BUT! The board will be placed at the top of the ramp. There will be no count-outs in this match, but you can only put in one piece at a time. You can’t put in another one until you’ve spent at least thirty seconds back in the ring.

So like I said, no real count-outs, no weapons allowed other than the environment, and your most important weapon just might be your thinking brainbox anyhoo!

Oh, and if you’re thinking about having your BOB buddies involved, outside interference in regards to me, the board, or the pieces, will result in an instant DQ. Them’s the rules!

So see you in France, BOB D! J’espère que notre match sera fantastique! Je suis sûr que les fans l’aimeront. Restes certain, je resterai champion du television, mon ami. Je connecterai quatre pieces, et quatre victoires. A Paris! C’est un peu poetique, non?

Au revoir!"]]> <![CDATA[Numbers (Part One)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46617 Sat, 22 Jul 2023 21:25:38 -0700 Dionysus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46617
"So that's the proposal, Mr. Pryce. What questions do you have?"

I sat in Theo Pryce's office, which was both exactly and not exactly what I had expected his office to look like. Daniel was leaning against the back wall, Devin was seated in the chair next to me, and Wide Dio had decided to stand outside to "try and look tough." Or maybe he was just lonely. It was hard to tell with Wide Dio these days. I explained to Theo about the journey into Egypt, discovering the Wishmonger, and claiming my wish to be "the places I want to be," thus leading to this split into four different Dionysi. I wanted to ensure that these guys had some kind of employment history; I managed to work out some details on my own, but was looking to get something more recent on their CVs.

Theo looked me dead in the eye, not even looking at the other versions of myself, and told me, "So let me see if I understand your story correctly. Dolly gives you a call about a magic lamp in Egypt. You and your War Games team fly all the way out there, with days before the show, without notifying anyone where it is that you were going, were nearly lost in the jungle, somehow miraculously find these ancient ruins where you almost die again, and in the end find this all-powerful genie that split you into four different versions of you. And now, you're in my office asking me to give these two-"

"Three, sir," I interrupted. "Wide Dio is just outside."

"...What, the fat one?"

"We prefer 'husky,'" Devin chimed in. Theo looked over at him with a serious stare, causing Devin to slump into his chair.

"...Sorry. The three of them," Theo corrected. "You want me to give these three performance contracts so they can...what, have it look good on their resume?"

"It is to help build their credibility, sir," I argued. "Daniel, Devin, and Wide Dio just magically came into being. There are no birth records, no social security, no documentation of any kind that they exist. At least, we have yet to find anything. We're just four guys who don't really know how to go around finding potentially lost documents like that. But if they had pending contracts and background checks assigned, then maybe we could luck out on a scrap of proof of existence. I mean, this company has the resources available to get the ball rolling on this, doesn't it?"

Theo tapped the pen he had in his hand, thinking about the proposal. He let out a deep sigh, once again addressing me. "Look, Dinoysus. I like you. I scouted you from The World Series of Wrestling because I see the kind of potential you bring. And since signing with us, I know you haven't asked for much."

"There's a but coming up, isn't there?" Daniel spoke up. "We just want to appear as real as anyone else in the world, man. Why can't you do that?"

"Well for one," Theo conjectured, "This isn't an easy request to ask for. I'm going to need to run this through my back offices to even get things going. For two, I'm still not entirely convinced that what you all have told me is the truth. How do I know you're not just a couple of convincing lookalikes with extensive criminal backgrounds? On top of that, no documentation of any kind?"

I shook my head. "I know how it all sounds, Mr. Pryce," I rebuttled, "But ask Dolly and Corey, maybe Soldier if you can find him; they can confirm what happened in Egypt-"

"This isn't just about Egypt," Theo interrupted. "This is about the four of you and whether or not what you are saying is the truth. Now, if you can prove what you are saying is true, here and now, we can keep this conversation going. If not, then I'll ask you to leave. I've had enough fantasy for one day."

Devin turned to face Daniel, a panicked look in his eyes. Daniel shook his head, unsure of how we could prove such a fantastic story. Then, a thought crossed my mind. There was more to the wish than just having the clones of me. "...I think I may have misspoke earlier. It was not just my brothers that were granted to me. The specifics of my wish were, if I recall, the ability to be anywhere I want to be at one time." I sat up in my seat, pointing a thumb at Devin. "The Wishmonger didn't really tell me how this would work, but I'm pretty sure these guys are supposed to be how I can make it work."

Theo could only blink. "You're...going to do what, exactly?"

"Just pop out for a moment," I said. Then, before anyone could do anything, I focused my thoughts onto Wide Dio and where he was standing outside the office. When my eyes opened...

...I was standing outside Theo's door.

I ended up surprising myself. Panicking, I looked up and down the hall, making sure no one else had seen what had happened. My breathing was light and rapid, a combination of being startled and shocked by the discovery I had made. Not nearly as startling as the shout that came from Theo, though muffled as it was, I highly doubt it would be words that a network would allow to air on television. I opened the door to enter back into Theo's office, now seeing Wide Dio in the chair I had been sitting in. Theo looked between me at the door and Wide Dio in the chair, having fully stood up behind his desk. "Did I...are you...what-"

"Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are," Wide Dio said. "Like your office; you get someone to design it for you?"

"But you-and he-and...what did I just..." Theo was still in shock.

I made my way behind Theo's desk and turned him to face me, both my hands on his shoulders, not hard but firm enough that he would not thrash. "Look, I understand that this entire thing makes absolute zero sense. I can't even begin to explain how any of it works. And if this whole situation makes you uncomfortable enough to terminate my contract here, then so be it." I gestured to the others. "But all I'm looking to do is help these guys make a life for themselves as well. They can't follow me around forever. They want to live out their own dreams and ambitions, just as you and I have."

Theo slowly reached up to my hands, delicately removing them from his shoulders. "I would ask that you do not touch me again like that...although I do appreciate you not slapping me out of...well, whatever it was I just saw."

"It isn't the best idea to slap your employer, sir, even if it may help him get out of shock," I replied.

Theo gestured a hand back toward the others, directing me around his desk. He took his seat once more, saying, "I still don't think this will go anywhere aside from this one meeting, but...given what I have seen, I think it is worth looking into further. That said, I cannot grant contracts to them at this time." Daniel and Devin started to protest, but Theo held up a hand to silence them. "I know you mean well, but understand the position I am in; if nothing comes from this, an investigation into you lot is bound to follow. And who knows what they will find."

"If I may," I interjected, "You could list me as their primary referral. It may not do anything, but if questions are asked, it would put me under the gun instead of XWF. The last thing I want to do is put you guys at risk. So I'll take it on." I turned to face the other three. "They're my family, after all," I added, giving them a wink.

"In all the years I have been in this business," Theo said after a moment to think, "This goes up there as one of the craziest schemes I have ever thought to try and pull off." Still deep in thought, he began to nod slowly. "Very well. But your contract also hinges on their background checks coming back with anything. If they're in the clear, I'll draft up the contracts myself." Daniel, Devin, and Wide Dio looked at one another in excitement. I was slack-jawed. I was certain I was going to be out the door. "I can keep this under wraps...you know, 'our little secret' and all, but I need to have a project name to put this under."

The name had already been in mind. "Project Scylla," I suggested.

"I'm guessing that's some kind of greek myth thing, right?" Theo asked.

"Yes, but I won't go into detail if you're not interested," I said, halting that part of the conversation in its tracks. "But behind these doors, this group will be known as..." I looked at Daniel, Devin, and Wide Dio in order, all nodding back to me in acceptance of the name I had thought of for a long time.

"...The Many Faces."
Tell me, just how overused is the tale of Icarus in our line of business?

That seems to be the telltale greek myth we use all the time, right? Flying too close to the sun, watching the wax melt as we struggle with the inevitability of that fall, completely forgetting that reality doesn't quite work the way the myth tells you. The air gets colder as you continue to climb in elevation, you see, so unless the sun is beating directly down on you as you ascend, I doubt the wax would melt quite as quickly. That being said, the chance of your wings melting does increase exponentially the longer you remain in the air. Then again, that is not the conversation people want to have, now is it? The tale of Icarus is meant to teach us not to imbibe in excessive ambition. And yet, that is what Leap of Faith is intended to be; a high-rish/high-reward match in which all contenders throw caution to the wind and see how far they can soar. All for the chance to compete for the coveted XWF 24/7 Briefcase. A fitting prize for the ambitious few that are even daring to take this challenge.

And the line-up of challengers is...well, I will be the first to admit it; this line-up is quite possibly the greatest challenge I will have faced thus far in my tenure here in XWF. From a bonafide legend in Bobby Bourbon, to bitter rivals in Ned Kaye and Isaiah King, a former teammate in Dolly Waters, and Jenny Myst, who I had the pleasure of losing to to qualify for this particular match. All of them capable competitors, former champions, and not ready to give anyone an inch for their shot at glory, whether they are finding it again or beginning the journey anew. It is quite intimidating to share the ring, not to mention The Eiffel Tower, with these people, all personal feelings aside.

But along with that sense of fear...is the thrill of excitement.

It is a rare opportunity to be placed in a match with some of the best the company has to offer. Especially a match that, as mentioned before, I failed in qualifying for in the first place. So the question becomes this: why is Dionysus in the Leap of Faith to begin with? The answer to that is a simple answer with layers of complexity built on top. In the 6-7 months since being on the roster, I secured a tag team contendership (which ultimately did not pan out), won the Television Title in a hotly contested division, and managed to help my War Games team secure a spot in the finals. And while I have faced a slump since relinquishing the Television Title, the interest in me has yet to drop. On top of that, many of my detractors are still surprised that I am still around, perhaps presuming that I would duck out the minute I lost any momentum. Well, that tells you more about them than me. There are people that want to see me fail because it validates their opinions while burying their own inferiorities. And the further I climb, the more likely those people will be inspired to strive despite their short-comings. I am not just a competitor who looks for his own personal glory to horde all to himself; rather, I am one that wants to share in that victory with the fans. To inspire and give hope, win or lose; that has been one of my core philosophies since I first laced the boots.

Now, you might think "Well Dionysus, the field is packed with talent and I'm not sure you have what it takes to hang with this crowd." I remind you that it was Isaiah King that I dethroned and the likes of Ned Kaye and Dolly Waters whom I have given great bouts to, never giving an inch and forcing them to earn their victories. I am confident in my own skills that, at the bare minimum, I will not embarrass myself. And who knows? Maybe I can even be fortunate to hold that coveted case in the end. This contest will, without a doubt, push me beyond my limits, but when has that ever stopped me?

I welcome the thought of being the underdog or "outclassed" in this bout. I welcome it with open arms. Because should that case touch my hands, it will, without a doubt, send shockwaves throughout the XWF landscape, placing The Lord of The Vine and my Many Faces that much closer to the peak of the mountain. To defy expectation and to stand above the rest in the end; that is the drive that keeps me motivated to excel. I serve as a banner to rally around, to inspire the uninspired, to bring hope to those in despair. So as I apply the wax wings to my own arms, I look toward the horizon, hoping my strength and skill will carry me to a brighter tomorrow. "But what if I fall," you might ask.

But oh honey.

What if I fly.]]>
"So that's the proposal, Mr. Pryce. What questions do you have?"

I sat in Theo Pryce's office, which was both exactly and not exactly what I had expected his office to look like. Daniel was leaning against the back wall, Devin was seated in the chair next to me, and Wide Dio had decided to stand outside to "try and look tough." Or maybe he was just lonely. It was hard to tell with Wide Dio these days. I explained to Theo about the journey into Egypt, discovering the Wishmonger, and claiming my wish to be "the places I want to be," thus leading to this split into four different Dionysi. I wanted to ensure that these guys had some kind of employment history; I managed to work out some details on my own, but was looking to get something more recent on their CVs.

Theo looked me dead in the eye, not even looking at the other versions of myself, and told me, "So let me see if I understand your story correctly. Dolly gives you a call about a magic lamp in Egypt. You and your War Games team fly all the way out there, with days before the show, without notifying anyone where it is that you were going, were nearly lost in the jungle, somehow miraculously find these ancient ruins where you almost die again, and in the end find this all-powerful genie that split you into four different versions of you. And now, you're in my office asking me to give these two-"

"Three, sir," I interrupted. "Wide Dio is just outside."

"...What, the fat one?"

"We prefer 'husky,'" Devin chimed in. Theo looked over at him with a serious stare, causing Devin to slump into his chair.

"...Sorry. The three of them," Theo corrected. "You want me to give these three performance contracts so they can...what, have it look good on their resume?"

"It is to help build their credibility, sir," I argued. "Daniel, Devin, and Wide Dio just magically came into being. There are no birth records, no social security, no documentation of any kind that they exist. At least, we have yet to find anything. We're just four guys who don't really know how to go around finding potentially lost documents like that. But if they had pending contracts and background checks assigned, then maybe we could luck out on a scrap of proof of existence. I mean, this company has the resources available to get the ball rolling on this, doesn't it?"

Theo tapped the pen he had in his hand, thinking about the proposal. He let out a deep sigh, once again addressing me. "Look, Dinoysus. I like you. I scouted you from The World Series of Wrestling because I see the kind of potential you bring. And since signing with us, I know you haven't asked for much."

"There's a but coming up, isn't there?" Daniel spoke up. "We just want to appear as real as anyone else in the world, man. Why can't you do that?"

"Well for one," Theo conjectured, "This isn't an easy request to ask for. I'm going to need to run this through my back offices to even get things going. For two, I'm still not entirely convinced that what you all have told me is the truth. How do I know you're not just a couple of convincing lookalikes with extensive criminal backgrounds? On top of that, no documentation of any kind?"

I shook my head. "I know how it all sounds, Mr. Pryce," I rebuttled, "But ask Dolly and Corey, maybe Soldier if you can find him; they can confirm what happened in Egypt-"

"This isn't just about Egypt," Theo interrupted. "This is about the four of you and whether or not what you are saying is the truth. Now, if you can prove what you are saying is true, here and now, we can keep this conversation going. If not, then I'll ask you to leave. I've had enough fantasy for one day."

Devin turned to face Daniel, a panicked look in his eyes. Daniel shook his head, unsure of how we could prove such a fantastic story. Then, a thought crossed my mind. There was more to the wish than just having the clones of me. "...I think I may have misspoke earlier. It was not just my brothers that were granted to me. The specifics of my wish were, if I recall, the ability to be anywhere I want to be at one time." I sat up in my seat, pointing a thumb at Devin. "The Wishmonger didn't really tell me how this would work, but I'm pretty sure these guys are supposed to be how I can make it work."

Theo could only blink. "You're...going to do what, exactly?"

"Just pop out for a moment," I said. Then, before anyone could do anything, I focused my thoughts onto Wide Dio and where he was standing outside the office. When my eyes opened...

...I was standing outside Theo's door.

I ended up surprising myself. Panicking, I looked up and down the hall, making sure no one else had seen what had happened. My breathing was light and rapid, a combination of being startled and shocked by the discovery I had made. Not nearly as startling as the shout that came from Theo, though muffled as it was, I highly doubt it would be words that a network would allow to air on television. I opened the door to enter back into Theo's office, now seeing Wide Dio in the chair I had been sitting in. Theo looked between me at the door and Wide Dio in the chair, having fully stood up behind his desk. "Did I...are you...what-"

"Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are," Wide Dio said. "Like your office; you get someone to design it for you?"

"But you-and he-and...what did I just..." Theo was still in shock.

I made my way behind Theo's desk and turned him to face me, both my hands on his shoulders, not hard but firm enough that he would not thrash. "Look, I understand that this entire thing makes absolute zero sense. I can't even begin to explain how any of it works. And if this whole situation makes you uncomfortable enough to terminate my contract here, then so be it." I gestured to the others. "But all I'm looking to do is help these guys make a life for themselves as well. They can't follow me around forever. They want to live out their own dreams and ambitions, just as you and I have."

Theo slowly reached up to my hands, delicately removing them from his shoulders. "I would ask that you do not touch me again like that...although I do appreciate you not slapping me out of...well, whatever it was I just saw."

"It isn't the best idea to slap your employer, sir, even if it may help him get out of shock," I replied.

Theo gestured a hand back toward the others, directing me around his desk. He took his seat once more, saying, "I still don't think this will go anywhere aside from this one meeting, but...given what I have seen, I think it is worth looking into further. That said, I cannot grant contracts to them at this time." Daniel and Devin started to protest, but Theo held up a hand to silence them. "I know you mean well, but understand the position I am in; if nothing comes from this, an investigation into you lot is bound to follow. And who knows what they will find."

"If I may," I interjected, "You could list me as their primary referral. It may not do anything, but if questions are asked, it would put me under the gun instead of XWF. The last thing I want to do is put you guys at risk. So I'll take it on." I turned to face the other three. "They're my family, after all," I added, giving them a wink.

"In all the years I have been in this business," Theo said after a moment to think, "This goes up there as one of the craziest schemes I have ever thought to try and pull off." Still deep in thought, he began to nod slowly. "Very well. But your contract also hinges on their background checks coming back with anything. If they're in the clear, I'll draft up the contracts myself." Daniel, Devin, and Wide Dio looked at one another in excitement. I was slack-jawed. I was certain I was going to be out the door. "I can keep this under wraps...you know, 'our little secret' and all, but I need to have a project name to put this under."

The name had already been in mind. "Project Scylla," I suggested.

"I'm guessing that's some kind of greek myth thing, right?" Theo asked.

"Yes, but I won't go into detail if you're not interested," I said, halting that part of the conversation in its tracks. "But behind these doors, this group will be known as..." I looked at Daniel, Devin, and Wide Dio in order, all nodding back to me in acceptance of the name I had thought of for a long time.

"...The Many Faces."
Tell me, just how overused is the tale of Icarus in our line of business?

That seems to be the telltale greek myth we use all the time, right? Flying too close to the sun, watching the wax melt as we struggle with the inevitability of that fall, completely forgetting that reality doesn't quite work the way the myth tells you. The air gets colder as you continue to climb in elevation, you see, so unless the sun is beating directly down on you as you ascend, I doubt the wax would melt quite as quickly. That being said, the chance of your wings melting does increase exponentially the longer you remain in the air. Then again, that is not the conversation people want to have, now is it? The tale of Icarus is meant to teach us not to imbibe in excessive ambition. And yet, that is what Leap of Faith is intended to be; a high-rish/high-reward match in which all contenders throw caution to the wind and see how far they can soar. All for the chance to compete for the coveted XWF 24/7 Briefcase. A fitting prize for the ambitious few that are even daring to take this challenge.

And the line-up of challengers is...well, I will be the first to admit it; this line-up is quite possibly the greatest challenge I will have faced thus far in my tenure here in XWF. From a bonafide legend in Bobby Bourbon, to bitter rivals in Ned Kaye and Isaiah King, a former teammate in Dolly Waters, and Jenny Myst, who I had the pleasure of losing to to qualify for this particular match. All of them capable competitors, former champions, and not ready to give anyone an inch for their shot at glory, whether they are finding it again or beginning the journey anew. It is quite intimidating to share the ring, not to mention The Eiffel Tower, with these people, all personal feelings aside.

But along with that sense of fear...is the thrill of excitement.

It is a rare opportunity to be placed in a match with some of the best the company has to offer. Especially a match that, as mentioned before, I failed in qualifying for in the first place. So the question becomes this: why is Dionysus in the Leap of Faith to begin with? The answer to that is a simple answer with layers of complexity built on top. In the 6-7 months since being on the roster, I secured a tag team contendership (which ultimately did not pan out), won the Television Title in a hotly contested division, and managed to help my War Games team secure a spot in the finals. And while I have faced a slump since relinquishing the Television Title, the interest in me has yet to drop. On top of that, many of my detractors are still surprised that I am still around, perhaps presuming that I would duck out the minute I lost any momentum. Well, that tells you more about them than me. There are people that want to see me fail because it validates their opinions while burying their own inferiorities. And the further I climb, the more likely those people will be inspired to strive despite their short-comings. I am not just a competitor who looks for his own personal glory to horde all to himself; rather, I am one that wants to share in that victory with the fans. To inspire and give hope, win or lose; that has been one of my core philosophies since I first laced the boots.

Now, you might think "Well Dionysus, the field is packed with talent and I'm not sure you have what it takes to hang with this crowd." I remind you that it was Isaiah King that I dethroned and the likes of Ned Kaye and Dolly Waters whom I have given great bouts to, never giving an inch and forcing them to earn their victories. I am confident in my own skills that, at the bare minimum, I will not embarrass myself. And who knows? Maybe I can even be fortunate to hold that coveted case in the end. This contest will, without a doubt, push me beyond my limits, but when has that ever stopped me?

I welcome the thought of being the underdog or "outclassed" in this bout. I welcome it with open arms. Because should that case touch my hands, it will, without a doubt, send shockwaves throughout the XWF landscape, placing The Lord of The Vine and my Many Faces that much closer to the peak of the mountain. To defy expectation and to stand above the rest in the end; that is the drive that keeps me motivated to excel. I serve as a banner to rally around, to inspire the uninspired, to bring hope to those in despair. So as I apply the wax wings to my own arms, I look toward the horizon, hoping my strength and skill will carry me to a brighter tomorrow. "But what if I fall," you might ask.

But oh honey.

What if I fly.]]> <![CDATA[In The Hunter's Hand I: Trophy Season]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46616 Sat, 22 Jul 2023 20:02:57 -0700 Isaiah King]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46616





“Air smells like piss.”

“Ah yes, but it’s our piss you see, that’s why we love it.”

“Animals.”

[Image: tumblr_inline_osbrted1OO1tw2m0e_250.gif]

Atsuya Tojo was one of twelve grandchildren of the Tojo Clan’s patriarch, Sautoro. Middle-aged, neither the oldest nor youngest of the lot he boasted a clean black cut, a trimmed moustache and goatee combo and a navy blue pullover.

Nevertheless, he was meant to expand the Tojo Corporation, and by extension criminal enterprise of the Tojo Clan, onto American soil. It was his mission, and his ticket to claiming the top position in the family once his grandfather passed.

He simply wished he’d been charged with a slightly more prestigious mission. Every one of his competing siblings, for in the family none were cousins only brothers or sisters, knew that the chances of success here were slim - it was a throwaway idea that grandfather have. None expected the forgotten middle child to make anything out of it, rather they thought him out of the picture.

How he worked with Isaiah to take down [j] “The Kingpin” Jeremiah [/j] and The Empire that currently ruled the New York underground his final assessment. 

Atsuya knew his chances were slim - but there was to be a change of guard in the family and he was determined to be the one to lead it. He will be going all the way to the top.

“Couldn’t wait till we made it off the runway?”

[Image: FlimsyCavernousJumpingbean-max-1mb.gif]

Isaiah let out a long sigh of relief as his feet touched home ground. Japan was great and all, but between fighting monstrous kaiju, hunting for his girlfriend and wrangling lions, he’d had as much of the Land of the Rising Sun as he could handle for the year. Not that he didn’t bring some souvenirs to remember his time by.

Walking out of the Tojo family’s private jet behind Atsuya, Isaiah knew he didn’t have much of a respite before diving back into the mess that was his life right now.

He and Atsuya’s grandfather had struck a dangerous deal, one that would ensure Isaiah had sufficient armed manpower on American soil but required him to find a way to outmaneuver his enemy, “The Kingpin” Jeremiah into giving up his criminal enterprise.

Jeremiah had been a thorn in his flesh for what felt like years but was only really a couple of months. He’d hunted Isaiah and his friends down, kidnapped Chae and forced Isaiah to do his bidding in Japan. Jeremiah, from his shadowy control of the events of the last few months, felt like an insurmountable challenge.

Isaiah knew his chances of victory were slim - but New York needed a new King in-charge, and Isaiah was determined to be the one to slay the old and bring in the new. He will come out on top.




“I am headed to the top.

I’ve been headed to the top since my first day here.

You and I know that right? In the most practical, realistic way possible, Isaiah King has etched his way through this business, through the undercard, through the mid-card… Even through the monsters at the top.

It hasn’t been all ice cream and cherries though - it’s been full of wins and losses.

But can anyone here confidently say that I have not gotten better every single day, that I’ve not gotten hungrier every single day, that I’ve not only gotten MORE focused to the top week in and week out as I bust my ass… NOT for anyone else but MYSELF.

Standing on my shoulders - I am making my way to the top.

Standing on the bodies of corpses - I am making my way to the top.

And I do it by getting better each day, coming up against another wall and figuring out how to scale it.

Jenny Myst, Dolly Waters, Bobby Bourbon, Dionysus, Ned Kaye.

All walls that have come in my path, all walls that I must scale if I’m ever going to be up top.

And the gods of fate have been so kind as to lay them all beautifully right in front of me.

Walls that have been turned into rungs of a ladder - each a step closer to the top.

And so, very soon, I will conquer each and every one of you, I guarantee it. I will watch, and study, I will train and emulate, I will scale this ladder to the very top and claim my prize.

Hell, Smith will even be the cherry on top of this victory sundae.”



Fast-forward to the day after the last Warfare.

” Paris. You’re headed to Paris?”

His voice still had a thick Japanese accent to it, albeit his life-long exposure to American popculture and particularly rap music has made Atsuya’s sentence structure somewhat understandable.

” That’s where the Leap of Faith match will be, yeah I’m going.”

” Speaking of which, how did you even get in there, didn’t you get your ass kicked yesterday?”

“Momma’ always said the fates had it for me, but really I think this is business.”

“Do tell, Mr Kingslayer, how a loser is good for business.”

“Six of us in the match, three of ‘em’ are deadbeat CTE recoveries and the other three… Fresh faces that are primed to push merch.”

The young Tojo had been trying to get a sensing of Isaiah’s industry, slowly learning the names of the many wrestlers and how exactly the wrestling business made money. The XWF was integral to helping Isaiah take charge of the New York underground.

“Even this little one… Dolly Waters?”

“She and Jenny could probably battle it out for the most brain-riddled jailbait wrestler award, one with her insane boyfriend the other win abusive family who let a CHILD get smacked in the skull for money. They’re part of what this business has to move along if it hopes to stay on top.”

“Ah yes, both of them and… Bourbon, I assume. He has quite the reputation even back in Japan, though fading.”

There was no doubting the impact Waters, Myst and Bourbon had across the wrestling industry. Isaiah himself had grown up watching them and their contemporaries dominate the scene… They’d all shared the glory of fame for years now. Maybe a few years too many?

“They’re all sickening monsters, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t have long for this business… Less so, if I have anything to say about it. It’s time for us all to move on… To bigger and better things.”

“Out with the old, in with the new.”

“You get it.”

“But while you’re off fighting… You forget why I am here.”

“Paris… Has been fit into the plan. I think Jeremiah knew I was headed to Paris even before I did. He’s got some business to secure in Paris too, and of course, he wants his little b*tch to go and do it.”

Tojo arches his brow, Isaiah’s hatred of this man was unbecoming.

“Fits into HIS plans, but… What about ours?”

“Our connection there apparently did time with Jer up in Rikers, he’s handling Jer’s business interests there. Hopefully, we can get him to tell us a thing or two… Give us a lead.”

“With your fight, it doesn’t seem like you’ve got the time or… Focus to be walking dangerously.”

“Yeah, when I said Jeremiah’s b*tch, I meant you.”

Atsuya curses under his breath and begins to stand, which doesn’t even get a reaction out of Isaiah.

“What’d you think? You’ll be keeping your pretty feet clean? You’ll be dealing with YOUR business up in Paris while I… While I put on the grandest show yet.”



“Trophy Hunting.

Where the hunter curates his prey only to the most beautiful, the most well-endowed… Mature options.

All over the world, to raise funds for animal conservation and preservation countries and national parks will open up their gates for trophy hunters.

In this day and age, it’s almost vital to keep things moving forward, to keep beautiful species from going extinct.

For the sake of the many, the few are sacrificed.

For the sake of this business - you are sacrificed.

I’m sure more than a few of ya’ll are going to whine and complain about people not earning their way into this match - hell when I first got the call I was incensed. It felt like rubbing salt on a wound to get a… Consolation prize entry?

A pity party?

Only fuels the claims of favouritism, the claims that have ALREADY been made about a rocket strapped to my beautiful ass to the top by the powers that be.

But then I just had to sit and think about it, see the world through the eyes of the business and then have it make complete sense.

It’s dying.

It’s dying and it needs a desperate refresh. Come on, look at its state - what’s the last bit of juicy fun we’ve had here?

Page and the CCPE vs SAGA?

You can hardly call that a feud, I mean look at SAGA now, the winner was clear and unanimous. Look at CCPE at that, more of a record label than a group of curated killers.

We have COREY SMITH, truly the ghost of Christmas past himself digging around and reclaiming his throne. Alias came back to try and make a buck or two.

B.o.B is working its way to being the next CCPE, with half its members having already screwed off to non-existence while the other is trying to figure out if they’re gonna play nice or dirty.

THUNDER KNUCKLES is a challenge for the Universal Title. WHERE THE HELL DID HE COME FROM? Honestly, this once great, sad excuse for a business hasn’t MADE a star since well… Kido - and we all know what I did to him.

I don’t see that lil kitty coming back anytime soon.

This business is dying and Theo, Vinny, whoever the hell is out back, is trying desperately to push some NEW blood into the scene, and hoping that by SHEER force, we’ll be able to flush out the old for some new.

Flush ya’ll out DECISIVELY.

So that you’ll never return, so that you’ll just be a pretty mounted head on MY wall.

Because oh you three are wonderful trophies - Bourbon one of the most dominant superstars of the old generation, the most knockouts of Wargames, the dethroner of Mark Flynn, the real reason B.o.B is still somewhat of a threat.

Jenny Myst, the Queen of Xtreme. With one of the most dominant showings, not just most recently but every time you’ve held the TV or Xtreme title. That division basically belongs to you, when you’ve got it in you to actually hang around and not screw off after every “undeserved” loss.

You quite dominantly left me to bleed out the last time, and since then I've gone on to what… beat some big names, lose to some others. I've gotten better, sharper, while you've… recuperated?

Dolly Waters, prodigious and entrepreneurial… But really you’re probably the least impressive of this lot. Truly retirement ready, I guess that’s what happens when you finish too quickly, hm? I don’t recall the last impressive thing you did really.

Really, what have you and Myst accomplished since we last faced each other in the ring?

Hell, with all the breaks the three of you can put together, how'd all of y'all land at coming back? Every time you left, every time you had some time to think about your career… Only to come back the same, doing the same old shit, spewing the same old filth…

All of ya’ll have only ever recovered, never improved. You came and proved your mantle, got arrogant and stuck with it until you lost… then you leave until we forget your losses and until YOU forget your losses and all you do is come back with that same arrogance.

Until you lose again.

Well, let me speed the process up a little bit. Bring me some new shit on Saturday, or when I take your heads off with this Guillotine, leave for good.

Don't you worry, I'll mark it out. I'll tell the world who I've defeated.

The most extreme, the big ol' king, the Muddy princess. I'll be sure to only tell them if your victories, I'll only remind them of your deserved arrogance…

All you have to do is realise you're done. You've been done.

It's time to hang your boots up on MY wall and call it quits.

It's time for a change of guard."




Isaiah sits on the edge of his ring, in the middle of his gym, with Ezekiel and Chaeryoung sparring in a blurred shadow behind him. His mind drifts to his many losses, faced at the hands of his coming opponents, and he smirks. In his hand, he twirls the gamechanger, the catalytic tool.

A now rusted wrench.

Not the most intuitive King slaying tool.

But definitely the most efficient.

His mind drifts back to watching the Wargames finals from the background, seeing on a tiny little monitor Ned Kaye’s arrogant begging of Flynn to drop the weapon and fight with his fists. A begging that Flynn conceded to.

Mark Flynn - Ex-Universal Champion and current Xtreme Champion.

Dropping a match-changing opportunity, a completely LEGAL match-changing opportunity… For the sake of what? Bravado? Definitely not honour. Not in a competition quite literally meant to mimic WAR.

All is fair in WAR.

And that’s something his other two opponents didn’t grasp quite so well. The Wine God of Virtue and The World’s Most-Repressed Highschooler.

Isaiah extends his hand out towards the camera, the wrench firmly gripped in it, and he cocks his head to the side.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you two, the two other bits of freshness injected into this match.

New faces that the powers that be are banking on.

Hedging of the bets, y’know?

Fools.

If the three, established, bedazzled veterans win the briefcase then the threat Corey faces will SEEM very real. They’ll milk it for a few weeks, maybe a few months, but at the end of the day, whenever it’s cashed in… Does it really matter if we trade Corey for Dolly? Corey for Bourbon or.. J- Actually, can we all agree nobody wants that psychominx holding our main title? Sweet.

BUT IF THEY DON’T.

They’ve split their money on a kingslayer, a winemaker and… A prepubescent teenager.

I’m talking about you Kaye, not Dolly.

With the three of us, the UNDERDOG story will be blasted through the airways.

Dionysus, your TV title reign, as short as it was - came off MY back. And so good on you for blindsiding me and taking your shot. A bad day in the office for the Kingslayer and a MONUMENTAL chance for a fresh face to make his name household.

Until ever-midcarded Vaughan came to sweep you off your feet the very next chance you got.

Why? Because while you’re brimming full of talent, you’re just another pretty face resting on his… Vines? Does that image work?

Did you LEVEL UP after beating me? No… You went back to your same ol’, I’m a good respectful guy who will give you a solid fight spiel. You simply don’t have what it takes to climb yet… Maybe next year?

Now… My dear Ned.

I know, it’s a little odd for Ned Kaye to be considered an underdog by any means but the celibacy that man has imposed on himself has certainly been enough for him to have never hit his growth spurt and unlock the powers of eternal youth!

Eternally on the cusp of greatness before his hand comes to clamp the tap shut and keep him from getting to the finish.

From getting to the top.

I COMPLETELY get the hope for glory, for an honourable glory.

But lord have mercy, I cannot begin to fathom throwing away a completely valid advantage, a possible victory… To be the bastion of virtue. Did you see how that sort of behaviour quite literally BROKE Raion Kido? Turned him into a hypocritical ogre.

Ned Kaye, you keep edging yourself like that, if you keep fighting your way up the rungs just to choke out on top… You’ll break.

And the cracks have begun to show, haven’t they? Your frustrations rise at every loss, how’d it feels to see Flynn catch the win and not our virtuous Captain? Is that why you butted your head in at the end? TO at least FEEL included in the finish? How’d it make you feel… Vindicated or furstrated?

This wrench, it’ll be what breaks you for good, what makes you see that it’s not virtue that’ll take you to the top, but vicious hunger. Not dishonour or slimy practice… INTENSITY.

On Saturday, I’ll let you edge your way up to the top, and then I’ll STEAL the victory from right under your nose so that you’ll finally see what I’ve been saying these last few weeks.

Between you and me - MY WAY is the BEST way.

The HIGHWAY.

Putting faith in yourself, your hands, your actions… Not on the virtue of others. Not letting others step all over you to get what they want.

Taking the Leap of Faith with yourself as collateral, investment and everything inbetween.

All of you are in MY hands.

And by MY HANDS, I'll climb up that ladder.

And by MY HANDS, I'll claim victory.

By MY HANDS, I will crown MYSELF King.”

[Image: tumblr_p64dod0k8J1u4tjqso1_540.gif]

Black.
















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“Air smells like piss.”

“Ah yes, but it’s our piss you see, that’s why we love it.”

“Animals.”

[Image: tumblr_inline_osbrted1OO1tw2m0e_250.gif]

Atsuya Tojo was one of twelve grandchildren of the Tojo Clan’s patriarch, Sautoro. Middle-aged, neither the oldest nor youngest of the lot he boasted a clean black cut, a trimmed moustache and goatee combo and a navy blue pullover.

Nevertheless, he was meant to expand the Tojo Corporation, and by extension criminal enterprise of the Tojo Clan, onto American soil. It was his mission, and his ticket to claiming the top position in the family once his grandfather passed.

He simply wished he’d been charged with a slightly more prestigious mission. Every one of his competing siblings, for in the family none were cousins only brothers or sisters, knew that the chances of success here were slim - it was a throwaway idea that grandfather have. None expected the forgotten middle child to make anything out of it, rather they thought him out of the picture.

How he worked with Isaiah to take down [j] “The Kingpin” Jeremiah [/j] and The Empire that currently ruled the New York underground his final assessment. 

Atsuya knew his chances were slim - but there was to be a change of guard in the family and he was determined to be the one to lead it. He will be going all the way to the top.

“Couldn’t wait till we made it off the runway?”

[Image: FlimsyCavernousJumpingbean-max-1mb.gif]

Isaiah let out a long sigh of relief as his feet touched home ground. Japan was great and all, but between fighting monstrous kaiju, hunting for his girlfriend and wrangling lions, he’d had as much of the Land of the Rising Sun as he could handle for the year. Not that he didn’t bring some souvenirs to remember his time by.

Walking out of the Tojo family’s private jet behind Atsuya, Isaiah knew he didn’t have much of a respite before diving back into the mess that was his life right now.

He and Atsuya’s grandfather had struck a dangerous deal, one that would ensure Isaiah had sufficient armed manpower on American soil but required him to find a way to outmaneuver his enemy, “The Kingpin” Jeremiah into giving up his criminal enterprise.

Jeremiah had been a thorn in his flesh for what felt like years but was only really a couple of months. He’d hunted Isaiah and his friends down, kidnapped Chae and forced Isaiah to do his bidding in Japan. Jeremiah, from his shadowy control of the events of the last few months, felt like an insurmountable challenge.

Isaiah knew his chances of victory were slim - but New York needed a new King in-charge, and Isaiah was determined to be the one to slay the old and bring in the new. He will come out on top.




“I am headed to the top.

I’ve been headed to the top since my first day here.

You and I know that right? In the most practical, realistic way possible, Isaiah King has etched his way through this business, through the undercard, through the mid-card… Even through the monsters at the top.

It hasn’t been all ice cream and cherries though - it’s been full of wins and losses.

But can anyone here confidently say that I have not gotten better every single day, that I’ve not gotten hungrier every single day, that I’ve not only gotten MORE focused to the top week in and week out as I bust my ass… NOT for anyone else but MYSELF.

Standing on my shoulders - I am making my way to the top.

Standing on the bodies of corpses - I am making my way to the top.

And I do it by getting better each day, coming up against another wall and figuring out how to scale it.

Jenny Myst, Dolly Waters, Bobby Bourbon, Dionysus, Ned Kaye.

All walls that have come in my path, all walls that I must scale if I’m ever going to be up top.

And the gods of fate have been so kind as to lay them all beautifully right in front of me.

Walls that have been turned into rungs of a ladder - each a step closer to the top.

And so, very soon, I will conquer each and every one of you, I guarantee it. I will watch, and study, I will train and emulate, I will scale this ladder to the very top and claim my prize.

Hell, Smith will even be the cherry on top of this victory sundae.”



Fast-forward to the day after the last Warfare.

” Paris. You’re headed to Paris?”

His voice still had a thick Japanese accent to it, albeit his life-long exposure to American popculture and particularly rap music has made Atsuya’s sentence structure somewhat understandable.

” That’s where the Leap of Faith match will be, yeah I’m going.”

” Speaking of which, how did you even get in there, didn’t you get your ass kicked yesterday?”

“Momma’ always said the fates had it for me, but really I think this is business.”

“Do tell, Mr Kingslayer, how a loser is good for business.”

“Six of us in the match, three of ‘em’ are deadbeat CTE recoveries and the other three… Fresh faces that are primed to push merch.”

The young Tojo had been trying to get a sensing of Isaiah’s industry, slowly learning the names of the many wrestlers and how exactly the wrestling business made money. The XWF was integral to helping Isaiah take charge of the New York underground.

“Even this little one… Dolly Waters?”

“She and Jenny could probably battle it out for the most brain-riddled jailbait wrestler award, one with her insane boyfriend the other win abusive family who let a CHILD get smacked in the skull for money. They’re part of what this business has to move along if it hopes to stay on top.”

“Ah yes, both of them and… Bourbon, I assume. He has quite the reputation even back in Japan, though fading.”

There was no doubting the impact Waters, Myst and Bourbon had across the wrestling industry. Isaiah himself had grown up watching them and their contemporaries dominate the scene… They’d all shared the glory of fame for years now. Maybe a few years too many?

“They’re all sickening monsters, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t have long for this business… Less so, if I have anything to say about it. It’s time for us all to move on… To bigger and better things.”

“Out with the old, in with the new.”

“You get it.”

“But while you’re off fighting… You forget why I am here.”

“Paris… Has been fit into the plan. I think Jeremiah knew I was headed to Paris even before I did. He’s got some business to secure in Paris too, and of course, he wants his little b*tch to go and do it.”

Tojo arches his brow, Isaiah’s hatred of this man was unbecoming.

“Fits into HIS plans, but… What about ours?”

“Our connection there apparently did time with Jer up in Rikers, he’s handling Jer’s business interests there. Hopefully, we can get him to tell us a thing or two… Give us a lead.”

“With your fight, it doesn’t seem like you’ve got the time or… Focus to be walking dangerously.”

“Yeah, when I said Jeremiah’s b*tch, I meant you.”

Atsuya curses under his breath and begins to stand, which doesn’t even get a reaction out of Isaiah.

“What’d you think? You’ll be keeping your pretty feet clean? You’ll be dealing with YOUR business up in Paris while I… While I put on the grandest show yet.”



“Trophy Hunting.

Where the hunter curates his prey only to the most beautiful, the most well-endowed… Mature options.

All over the world, to raise funds for animal conservation and preservation countries and national parks will open up their gates for trophy hunters.

In this day and age, it’s almost vital to keep things moving forward, to keep beautiful species from going extinct.

For the sake of the many, the few are sacrificed.

For the sake of this business - you are sacrificed.

I’m sure more than a few of ya’ll are going to whine and complain about people not earning their way into this match - hell when I first got the call I was incensed. It felt like rubbing salt on a wound to get a… Consolation prize entry?

A pity party?

Only fuels the claims of favouritism, the claims that have ALREADY been made about a rocket strapped to my beautiful ass to the top by the powers that be.

But then I just had to sit and think about it, see the world through the eyes of the business and then have it make complete sense.

It’s dying.

It’s dying and it needs a desperate refresh. Come on, look at its state - what’s the last bit of juicy fun we’ve had here?

Page and the CCPE vs SAGA?

You can hardly call that a feud, I mean look at SAGA now, the winner was clear and unanimous. Look at CCPE at that, more of a record label than a group of curated killers.

We have COREY SMITH, truly the ghost of Christmas past himself digging around and reclaiming his throne. Alias came back to try and make a buck or two.

B.o.B is working its way to being the next CCPE, with half its members having already screwed off to non-existence while the other is trying to figure out if they’re gonna play nice or dirty.

THUNDER KNUCKLES is a challenge for the Universal Title. WHERE THE HELL DID HE COME FROM? Honestly, this once great, sad excuse for a business hasn’t MADE a star since well… Kido - and we all know what I did to him.

I don’t see that lil kitty coming back anytime soon.

This business is dying and Theo, Vinny, whoever the hell is out back, is trying desperately to push some NEW blood into the scene, and hoping that by SHEER force, we’ll be able to flush out the old for some new.

Flush ya’ll out DECISIVELY.

So that you’ll never return, so that you’ll just be a pretty mounted head on MY wall.

Because oh you three are wonderful trophies - Bourbon one of the most dominant superstars of the old generation, the most knockouts of Wargames, the dethroner of Mark Flynn, the real reason B.o.B is still somewhat of a threat.

Jenny Myst, the Queen of Xtreme. With one of the most dominant showings, not just most recently but every time you’ve held the TV or Xtreme title. That division basically belongs to you, when you’ve got it in you to actually hang around and not screw off after every “undeserved” loss.

You quite dominantly left me to bleed out the last time, and since then I've gone on to what… beat some big names, lose to some others. I've gotten better, sharper, while you've… recuperated?

Dolly Waters, prodigious and entrepreneurial… But really you’re probably the least impressive of this lot. Truly retirement ready, I guess that’s what happens when you finish too quickly, hm? I don’t recall the last impressive thing you did really.

Really, what have you and Myst accomplished since we last faced each other in the ring?

Hell, with all the breaks the three of you can put together, how'd all of y'all land at coming back? Every time you left, every time you had some time to think about your career… Only to come back the same, doing the same old shit, spewing the same old filth…

All of ya’ll have only ever recovered, never improved. You came and proved your mantle, got arrogant and stuck with it until you lost… then you leave until we forget your losses and until YOU forget your losses and all you do is come back with that same arrogance.

Until you lose again.

Well, let me speed the process up a little bit. Bring me some new shit on Saturday, or when I take your heads off with this Guillotine, leave for good.

Don't you worry, I'll mark it out. I'll tell the world who I've defeated.

The most extreme, the big ol' king, the Muddy princess. I'll be sure to only tell them if your victories, I'll only remind them of your deserved arrogance…

All you have to do is realise you're done. You've been done.

It's time to hang your boots up on MY wall and call it quits.

It's time for a change of guard."




Isaiah sits on the edge of his ring, in the middle of his gym, with Ezekiel and Chaeryoung sparring in a blurred shadow behind him. His mind drifts to his many losses, faced at the hands of his coming opponents, and he smirks. In his hand, he twirls the gamechanger, the catalytic tool.

A now rusted wrench.

Not the most intuitive King slaying tool.

But definitely the most efficient.

His mind drifts back to watching the Wargames finals from the background, seeing on a tiny little monitor Ned Kaye’s arrogant begging of Flynn to drop the weapon and fight with his fists. A begging that Flynn conceded to.

Mark Flynn - Ex-Universal Champion and current Xtreme Champion.

Dropping a match-changing opportunity, a completely LEGAL match-changing opportunity… For the sake of what? Bravado? Definitely not honour. Not in a competition quite literally meant to mimic WAR.

All is fair in WAR.

And that’s something his other two opponents didn’t grasp quite so well. The Wine God of Virtue and The World’s Most-Repressed Highschooler.

Isaiah extends his hand out towards the camera, the wrench firmly gripped in it, and he cocks his head to the side.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you two, the two other bits of freshness injected into this match.

New faces that the powers that be are banking on.

Hedging of the bets, y’know?

Fools.

If the three, established, bedazzled veterans win the briefcase then the threat Corey faces will SEEM very real. They’ll milk it for a few weeks, maybe a few months, but at the end of the day, whenever it’s cashed in… Does it really matter if we trade Corey for Dolly? Corey for Bourbon or.. J- Actually, can we all agree nobody wants that psychominx holding our main title? Sweet.

BUT IF THEY DON’T.

They’ve split their money on a kingslayer, a winemaker and… A prepubescent teenager.

I’m talking about you Kaye, not Dolly.

With the three of us, the UNDERDOG story will be blasted through the airways.

Dionysus, your TV title reign, as short as it was - came off MY back. And so good on you for blindsiding me and taking your shot. A bad day in the office for the Kingslayer and a MONUMENTAL chance for a fresh face to make his name household.

Until ever-midcarded Vaughan came to sweep you off your feet the very next chance you got.

Why? Because while you’re brimming full of talent, you’re just another pretty face resting on his… Vines? Does that image work?

Did you LEVEL UP after beating me? No… You went back to your same ol’, I’m a good respectful guy who will give you a solid fight spiel. You simply don’t have what it takes to climb yet… Maybe next year?

Now… My dear Ned.

I know, it’s a little odd for Ned Kaye to be considered an underdog by any means but the celibacy that man has imposed on himself has certainly been enough for him to have never hit his growth spurt and unlock the powers of eternal youth!

Eternally on the cusp of greatness before his hand comes to clamp the tap shut and keep him from getting to the finish.

From getting to the top.

I COMPLETELY get the hope for glory, for an honourable glory.

But lord have mercy, I cannot begin to fathom throwing away a completely valid advantage, a possible victory… To be the bastion of virtue. Did you see how that sort of behaviour quite literally BROKE Raion Kido? Turned him into a hypocritical ogre.

Ned Kaye, you keep edging yourself like that, if you keep fighting your way up the rungs just to choke out on top… You’ll break.

And the cracks have begun to show, haven’t they? Your frustrations rise at every loss, how’d it feels to see Flynn catch the win and not our virtuous Captain? Is that why you butted your head in at the end? TO at least FEEL included in the finish? How’d it make you feel… Vindicated or furstrated?

This wrench, it’ll be what breaks you for good, what makes you see that it’s not virtue that’ll take you to the top, but vicious hunger. Not dishonour or slimy practice… INTENSITY.

On Saturday, I’ll let you edge your way up to the top, and then I’ll STEAL the victory from right under your nose so that you’ll finally see what I’ve been saying these last few weeks.

Between you and me - MY WAY is the BEST way.

The HIGHWAY.

Putting faith in yourself, your hands, your actions… Not on the virtue of others. Not letting others step all over you to get what they want.

Taking the Leap of Faith with yourself as collateral, investment and everything inbetween.

All of you are in MY hands.

And by MY HANDS, I'll climb up that ladder.

And by MY HANDS, I'll claim victory.

By MY HANDS, I will crown MYSELF King.”

[Image: tumblr_p64dod0k8J1u4tjqso1_540.gif]

Black.
















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