<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Relentless Night One 2023 RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Fri, 08 May 2026 02:38:36 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Cry to Heaven]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46903 Thu, 21 Sep 2023 23:23:24 -0700 Dionysus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46903
It isn't every day that you stand in the void with the devil himsef.

But then again, this was the dream I was experiencing.

Only the devil himself was actually my uncle. Anton Heedon.

Twenty years ago, this man tried keeping the family business alive by making all kinds of shady dealings and taking out loans he knew he would never pay back. In return, he did just about anything to ensure his rivals never caught on. His crimes were only made aware when he had been charged with fraud and embezzlement, among other things. I had been more sheltered by the details of his arrest from my mother, who likely wanted me to see my uncle, her brother, in a better light. But we both knew just how evil he would be when debt collectors started pounding on our door to collect on loans I never had.

And here he was. Standing in the void with me, along with the images of my dead brothers piled around him.

Anton gave quite the evil giggle, playfully kicking at Wide Dio's head. A sickening crunch of sinew and bone echoed in the void, along with his unusually gleeful laughter. "So this is what you have been doing with your time since I have been away," Anton mocked. "Creating imaginary copies of yourself in some feeble attempt to forget me? I thought you were past all this, nephew."

"Stop calling me that," I snapped at him.

"Oh do relax, dear nephew," Anton continued, "Even at your age, you still act the weak, petulant child you were when I was arrested." He walked closer to me, aluminum bat in hand, and touched it to my face. I flinched as the bat felt incredibly cold against my face. Colder than was expected, given that he first appeared through a ring of fire. "It seems my lessons to you were not harsh enough for you."

I gently pushed the bat aside. "So what, you're going to beat those lessons into me now?"

"To what end? This is your dream, after all."

"What do you even want from me? After all this time, why now are you haunting my dreams?"

Anton's laughter was almost infectious. "My dear nephew-"

"Stop. Calling me that," I insisted forcefully.

This time, Anton shrugged. "Very well. Dionysus," He drew out saying my name, "the reason I am here to haunt your dreams is a very simple one. It is because you allow me into this space." He tapped on my forehead forcefully. "I live right here. In. Your. Head. Rent-free, for all eternity. You can force me out at any time. But you won't. You refuse to actually let me go. No amount of therapy will help you remove me. I wonder why that is..."

"You aren't my therapist," I said coldly.

"Well I am also not your uncle," Anton replied mockingly.

"No. Right now you are just my personal demon trying to psyche me out. Do you think showing me those dead faces was going to intimidate me? I haven't been afraid of you for years now."

*CRACK*

The taste of blood immediately filled my mouth as Anton slammed the bat against my jaw. Hopefully whatever I did in my sleep wasn't so bad. At worst, maybe just biting my cheek in my sleep. I spat out the blood, turning to him with a chuckle. "I thought you said that would be pointless."

"That one was for me," Anton retorted. "And no, I did not show them to you to scare you. I showed them to you as a symbol of your failures. How you will never measure up to the champion of righteousness you aspire to be." As he laughed again, his entire form changed to a pitch-black silhouette.

When he reconstituted, he took on the form of a silvery-grey haired man, an older gentleman but not nearly as old as my uncle. He was wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and red tie, though the same bat remained in his hand. "You were never going to be anything. Not if I had anything to say about it. And I was right, wasn't I?"

The form shifted once again, this time to a smaller, younger man with a blonde streak in his hair. "I used you to propel myself forward, all the while leaving you behind. Our friendship was one-sided. Your usefulness wore off the day we failed. And every day, I blame you."

The image shifted again, this time to a silhouette of a woman. A long-forgotten memory from ages ago. "You abandoned me when I needed you most. And even now, you cannot remember my face. Are you still ashamed of me? Or are you only ashamed that you could not be the hero you wanted to be?"

The form returned to that of Anton. "You see? I can take on any shape of those who you feel have wronged you in some way." He gestured to his own body. "This form is the most prevalent in your mind, having done the most damage to you in your life. The others are of little consequence; you have already made your peace with them. Now only I remain...forever haunting your dreams."

The silence was deafening. He was right; despite any hurt I might have felt over the last few years, this was the one constant that would not leave me at all. But he was wrong about one thing. "If you are, in fact, here to remain forevermore," I replied, "Then I suppose I have free reign to tell you how I really feel about you."

"Ooooh?" Anton said with excitement. He leaned closer to me, cupping a hand to his ear. "Tell me how you feel. How much you hate your uncle for all the terrible things he has done to you. That anger that is welled up inside will only feed me."

I took in a deep breath. "You misunderstand. It takes quite a bit of feeling to hate anyone, let alone you."

"...Beg pardon?"

"I don't hate you, Anton. That would require me to feel anything for you." I spoke those words with the truest conviction I could muster; words I had rehearsed in my head for some time. When I felt the time was right to finally visit him and say what I needed him to hear. This dream version of him took a step back, his face twisting in anger. "For years, your shadow has loomed over me, trying to crush any chance I had for a good life. I made the choices I made out of necessity for survival. But once I was free of your influence, I moved on. I found myself out there. I found people who respected the kind of man I am and respect the accomplishments I have made for myself. All the while, I knew you were rotting away in a cell, and that was enough for me to keep going. Over time, I stopped wondering how you were doing. Hell, it has been over a year since I have thought about you sorry excuse of a human being. So no, I don't hate you. I feel nothing for you. You got what you deserved, and my revenge is living my best life. You're not in here rent-free. You're in here as my own prison for you."

The image of Anton grew into a giant monstrosity, the bat growing in size to that of a small skyscraper. A loud howl roared through the void, as I watched the bat swing down from on high.

I closed my eyes with arms outstretched, awaiting the moment of impact.

...

...

...
I sat upright in bed, a cold sweat drenching my body.

I took several deep breaths, now realizing the whole ordeal was a dream. I ran a hand over my face, wiping away the sweat as best I could. "Until next time," I whispered to myself, as I laid back down in bed. Fatigue overtook me as I closed my eyes to sleep once again.

This time, the dream was on a field of green, the sky colored in vibrant blues and purples. Standing on a hill was a faceless woman in a flowing white gown.

...I think the dreaming will be better now.


What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.

...Surprised that I would invoke the bard's words?

There was a time, long before I entered into this business professionally, where I had obtained the nickname of "The Urban Gladiator." My uncle, may his soul burn, left me with little choice in the matter, as he used my name to force debts I could not repay upon my name. I had to fight, in desperation, to clear a name that had done no wrong. They are painful lessons, memories I have chosen to bury deep within myself, in the hopes they will be lost to the river of time forever. In time, those debts were returned, my name was cleared, and now I live a much more stable and healthy lifestyle.

In short, Slade, I am not one that has to go to my worst moments to be a threat. I simply AM a threat.

The nervousness you are no doubt feeling is likely why you assume, incorrectly I might add, that my name is Deion. In fact, my given name was Dionysus Berget. No lies on that bio page about who I am and what I have accomplished. I'm certain your escapades in Lake Charles making a minor annoyance of yourself toward one dog and one used car salesman is supposed to be some subtle way of telling me that I should be afraid of just what you are capable of. You will find, however, that I am quite different to deal with than a wall-mounted television. So when you also proclaim to have "neutralized the threat," all I can sit here and do is chuckle. Deeply. Because it seems apparent to me that you really are not taking this as seriously as you should be.

But rather than fixate on just how badly you could mistake me for some car salesman out in Lake Charles, perhaps I should turn my attention to your performance as a whole. You talked a big game when thinking you could, on your "return" to in-ring action, defeat Mark Flynn and his hot streak. Despite having every advantage available to you, you still tapped out at the end of the day. So why not craft a match where that possibility is no longer there? That's right, Slade; I created this match as a favor to you. It was not a mistake to give us an even playing field. I want us to have an even playing field. You want to talk about how badly you can get into our heads, how dangerous a man you really are, that I am not booked against you, but sentenced against you.

So consider this my way of saying, "Aight, bet."

Come teach this champion a lesson in brutality. Show me why you are such a threat, not just to me, but to everyone around you. And when I knock you out, you will realize just how foolhardy this endeavor to hell will be for you.

This is no mere game anymore, Slade. I cannot guarantee your safety. We are in the pits of hell, destined to do battle. And you want to pretend that causing a mild annoyance to a complete stranger is the proof of just how threatening you are? Please; I have had shits more violent than what you've shown thus far. The Devil's Playground is your trial, where we will be seen as close to equals as you will ever hope to be. If the intent is to make me laugh, then that time has long since passed.

Despite my contempt, I am still a firm believer in creating and shaping a division where anyone is capable of usurping me. On this point alone, I will not falter. In this case, however, I have something truly worth defending; the honor of the Television Title division. Having someone like you hold this title, who refuses to treat it with the dignity and respect it deserves, is something I simply will not permit. In this one aspect, you are indeed a threat; a threat to the sanctity of all that I have done thus far to build this division to where it stands now. Some may see this as being egotistical, that I somehow made this division mine and mine alone. That obviously is not the case; I simply walked in and left my mark. However, as its current champion, it falls onto me to ensure only those who are, in fact, taking this belt seriously take it from me.

No amount of petty vengeance or squabbles with a random stranger are going to stop me from laying you flat come Relentless.

The time for toying around with you is long over. An example must be made of you, and to anyone else who thinks they can waltz into a title match with me and think it is the joke you consider it to be. When you step into those double-cages with me, there is no escape. I will bring the full focus of my fury upon you. I will show you just how bad of an idea it was to not step aside from this match-up. For you see, Slade, you had it all wrong. I'm not the one that is locked up in there with you.

You are the one who is locked up in there...with me.

Ensure your final arrangements have been made, for tomorrow comes a day too soon.]]>
It isn't every day that you stand in the void with the devil himsef.

But then again, this was the dream I was experiencing.

Only the devil himself was actually my uncle. Anton Heedon.

Twenty years ago, this man tried keeping the family business alive by making all kinds of shady dealings and taking out loans he knew he would never pay back. In return, he did just about anything to ensure his rivals never caught on. His crimes were only made aware when he had been charged with fraud and embezzlement, among other things. I had been more sheltered by the details of his arrest from my mother, who likely wanted me to see my uncle, her brother, in a better light. But we both knew just how evil he would be when debt collectors started pounding on our door to collect on loans I never had.

And here he was. Standing in the void with me, along with the images of my dead brothers piled around him.

Anton gave quite the evil giggle, playfully kicking at Wide Dio's head. A sickening crunch of sinew and bone echoed in the void, along with his unusually gleeful laughter. "So this is what you have been doing with your time since I have been away," Anton mocked. "Creating imaginary copies of yourself in some feeble attempt to forget me? I thought you were past all this, nephew."

"Stop calling me that," I snapped at him.

"Oh do relax, dear nephew," Anton continued, "Even at your age, you still act the weak, petulant child you were when I was arrested." He walked closer to me, aluminum bat in hand, and touched it to my face. I flinched as the bat felt incredibly cold against my face. Colder than was expected, given that he first appeared through a ring of fire. "It seems my lessons to you were not harsh enough for you."

I gently pushed the bat aside. "So what, you're going to beat those lessons into me now?"

"To what end? This is your dream, after all."

"What do you even want from me? After all this time, why now are you haunting my dreams?"

Anton's laughter was almost infectious. "My dear nephew-"

"Stop. Calling me that," I insisted forcefully.

This time, Anton shrugged. "Very well. Dionysus," He drew out saying my name, "the reason I am here to haunt your dreams is a very simple one. It is because you allow me into this space." He tapped on my forehead forcefully. "I live right here. In. Your. Head. Rent-free, for all eternity. You can force me out at any time. But you won't. You refuse to actually let me go. No amount of therapy will help you remove me. I wonder why that is..."

"You aren't my therapist," I said coldly.

"Well I am also not your uncle," Anton replied mockingly.

"No. Right now you are just my personal demon trying to psyche me out. Do you think showing me those dead faces was going to intimidate me? I haven't been afraid of you for years now."

*CRACK*

The taste of blood immediately filled my mouth as Anton slammed the bat against my jaw. Hopefully whatever I did in my sleep wasn't so bad. At worst, maybe just biting my cheek in my sleep. I spat out the blood, turning to him with a chuckle. "I thought you said that would be pointless."

"That one was for me," Anton retorted. "And no, I did not show them to you to scare you. I showed them to you as a symbol of your failures. How you will never measure up to the champion of righteousness you aspire to be." As he laughed again, his entire form changed to a pitch-black silhouette.

When he reconstituted, he took on the form of a silvery-grey haired man, an older gentleman but not nearly as old as my uncle. He was wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and red tie, though the same bat remained in his hand. "You were never going to be anything. Not if I had anything to say about it. And I was right, wasn't I?"

The form shifted once again, this time to a smaller, younger man with a blonde streak in his hair. "I used you to propel myself forward, all the while leaving you behind. Our friendship was one-sided. Your usefulness wore off the day we failed. And every day, I blame you."

The image shifted again, this time to a silhouette of a woman. A long-forgotten memory from ages ago. "You abandoned me when I needed you most. And even now, you cannot remember my face. Are you still ashamed of me? Or are you only ashamed that you could not be the hero you wanted to be?"

The form returned to that of Anton. "You see? I can take on any shape of those who you feel have wronged you in some way." He gestured to his own body. "This form is the most prevalent in your mind, having done the most damage to you in your life. The others are of little consequence; you have already made your peace with them. Now only I remain...forever haunting your dreams."

The silence was deafening. He was right; despite any hurt I might have felt over the last few years, this was the one constant that would not leave me at all. But he was wrong about one thing. "If you are, in fact, here to remain forevermore," I replied, "Then I suppose I have free reign to tell you how I really feel about you."

"Ooooh?" Anton said with excitement. He leaned closer to me, cupping a hand to his ear. "Tell me how you feel. How much you hate your uncle for all the terrible things he has done to you. That anger that is welled up inside will only feed me."

I took in a deep breath. "You misunderstand. It takes quite a bit of feeling to hate anyone, let alone you."

"...Beg pardon?"

"I don't hate you, Anton. That would require me to feel anything for you." I spoke those words with the truest conviction I could muster; words I had rehearsed in my head for some time. When I felt the time was right to finally visit him and say what I needed him to hear. This dream version of him took a step back, his face twisting in anger. "For years, your shadow has loomed over me, trying to crush any chance I had for a good life. I made the choices I made out of necessity for survival. But once I was free of your influence, I moved on. I found myself out there. I found people who respected the kind of man I am and respect the accomplishments I have made for myself. All the while, I knew you were rotting away in a cell, and that was enough for me to keep going. Over time, I stopped wondering how you were doing. Hell, it has been over a year since I have thought about you sorry excuse of a human being. So no, I don't hate you. I feel nothing for you. You got what you deserved, and my revenge is living my best life. You're not in here rent-free. You're in here as my own prison for you."

The image of Anton grew into a giant monstrosity, the bat growing in size to that of a small skyscraper. A loud howl roared through the void, as I watched the bat swing down from on high.

I closed my eyes with arms outstretched, awaiting the moment of impact.

...

...

...
I sat upright in bed, a cold sweat drenching my body.

I took several deep breaths, now realizing the whole ordeal was a dream. I ran a hand over my face, wiping away the sweat as best I could. "Until next time," I whispered to myself, as I laid back down in bed. Fatigue overtook me as I closed my eyes to sleep once again.

This time, the dream was on a field of green, the sky colored in vibrant blues and purples. Standing on a hill was a faceless woman in a flowing white gown.

...I think the dreaming will be better now.


What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.

...Surprised that I would invoke the bard's words?

There was a time, long before I entered into this business professionally, where I had obtained the nickname of "The Urban Gladiator." My uncle, may his soul burn, left me with little choice in the matter, as he used my name to force debts I could not repay upon my name. I had to fight, in desperation, to clear a name that had done no wrong. They are painful lessons, memories I have chosen to bury deep within myself, in the hopes they will be lost to the river of time forever. In time, those debts were returned, my name was cleared, and now I live a much more stable and healthy lifestyle.

In short, Slade, I am not one that has to go to my worst moments to be a threat. I simply AM a threat.

The nervousness you are no doubt feeling is likely why you assume, incorrectly I might add, that my name is Deion. In fact, my given name was Dionysus Berget. No lies on that bio page about who I am and what I have accomplished. I'm certain your escapades in Lake Charles making a minor annoyance of yourself toward one dog and one used car salesman is supposed to be some subtle way of telling me that I should be afraid of just what you are capable of. You will find, however, that I am quite different to deal with than a wall-mounted television. So when you also proclaim to have "neutralized the threat," all I can sit here and do is chuckle. Deeply. Because it seems apparent to me that you really are not taking this as seriously as you should be.

But rather than fixate on just how badly you could mistake me for some car salesman out in Lake Charles, perhaps I should turn my attention to your performance as a whole. You talked a big game when thinking you could, on your "return" to in-ring action, defeat Mark Flynn and his hot streak. Despite having every advantage available to you, you still tapped out at the end of the day. So why not craft a match where that possibility is no longer there? That's right, Slade; I created this match as a favor to you. It was not a mistake to give us an even playing field. I want us to have an even playing field. You want to talk about how badly you can get into our heads, how dangerous a man you really are, that I am not booked against you, but sentenced against you.

So consider this my way of saying, "Aight, bet."

Come teach this champion a lesson in brutality. Show me why you are such a threat, not just to me, but to everyone around you. And when I knock you out, you will realize just how foolhardy this endeavor to hell will be for you.

This is no mere game anymore, Slade. I cannot guarantee your safety. We are in the pits of hell, destined to do battle. And you want to pretend that causing a mild annoyance to a complete stranger is the proof of just how threatening you are? Please; I have had shits more violent than what you've shown thus far. The Devil's Playground is your trial, where we will be seen as close to equals as you will ever hope to be. If the intent is to make me laugh, then that time has long since passed.

Despite my contempt, I am still a firm believer in creating and shaping a division where anyone is capable of usurping me. On this point alone, I will not falter. In this case, however, I have something truly worth defending; the honor of the Television Title division. Having someone like you hold this title, who refuses to treat it with the dignity and respect it deserves, is something I simply will not permit. In this one aspect, you are indeed a threat; a threat to the sanctity of all that I have done thus far to build this division to where it stands now. Some may see this as being egotistical, that I somehow made this division mine and mine alone. That obviously is not the case; I simply walked in and left my mark. However, as its current champion, it falls onto me to ensure only those who are, in fact, taking this belt seriously take it from me.

No amount of petty vengeance or squabbles with a random stranger are going to stop me from laying you flat come Relentless.

The time for toying around with you is long over. An example must be made of you, and to anyone else who thinks they can waltz into a title match with me and think it is the joke you consider it to be. When you step into those double-cages with me, there is no escape. I will bring the full focus of my fury upon you. I will show you just how bad of an idea it was to not step aside from this match-up. For you see, Slade, you had it all wrong. I'm not the one that is locked up in there with you.

You are the one who is locked up in there...with me.

Ensure your final arrangements have been made, for tomorrow comes a day too soon.]]> <![CDATA[Deion of Lake Charles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46901 Thu, 21 Sep 2023 19:50:58 -0700 Slade Durant]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46901
---------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“But I thought you said you loved playing strip FreeCell with me.”

“…”

“What?”

“We’re on air, bro.”

“Shit.”

“...and there you have it, folks!  Just a glimpse at the improv routine we’ve been working on!”

“Uh, yes!  Improv!  So much improv!”

“And you might be asking WHY are we doing improv live on air here at On The Apron?  Because we’re waiting on our infamous, strange caller to ring in and finish his Slade Durant story.”

“I say we give him another ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes of dead air is awfully ballsy, my friend.”

“You’re awfully ballsy.”

“Teehee...anyway, we’re just sitting here, waiting and...hold on!”

“Is that him?”

“It’s got to be!...hello, caller...you’re live with On The Apron!”

“Hey guys, love that improv work.  Very visceral.  Anyway, I’m calling in to chat a little bit about Dionysus, the XWF TV Champ, who-”

“Gone.”

“Yea, hang up on his ass.”

“We don’t have time for lame topics.  We’re, sadly, on the edge of our seats for this Slade Durant bullshit.”

“Exactly, I...hold on, is that another caller?”

“This has to be him…”

“Yo, Caller...you’re on the air with On The Apron!  Speaketh!”

“Fellas…”

“It’s him!”

“About damn time.”

“I can see you’re finally beginning to understand the power of Slade Durant.”

“No, not really.”

“It’s kind of a slow wrestling news day, to be honest.”

“Yea, not as though a whole bunch of wrestlers are being fired or anything.”

“That’s because the entire wrestling world sits and awaits the conclusion of how Slade Durant broke Dionysus.”

“I thought his name was Deion.”

“Yea.”

“No, it’s Dionysus.”

“Seem to remember it being Deion.”

“IT’S DIONYSUS!”

“Okay, fine, whatever...let’s just get to it.”

“Seriously.”

“The Dreaded Slade Durant waited for Deion to exit his Lake Charles dealership as a party boat sailed loudly by in the bay directly behind the parking lot.  Deion was unaware of the true horror that awaited him…”

---

“I’m walking on sunshine, wooooaahhh,” Deion sang as he unlocked the door to his van with an extra pep in his step.  The man loved making a sale.

Slade watched the vehicle exit leaving the entire enterprise unattended.  It was now or never.  Slade’s moment to do whatever dastardly deed he had planned.  And, not one to hesitate, Slade promptly exited his vehicle with a black gym back gripped tightly by his right hand.

Basking in the moment, the pre-crime buzz, Slade enjoyed a cigarette against the warm, bay breeze coasting off the salted waters of Lake Charles.  The image of the party boat reflected off the mirrored lenses of his aviator shades clouded only by the occasional puff of smoke emitted through his slightly parted lips and teeth so white they seemed to glow in the dark.

---

“Wait, wait, hold up...why is he wearing his sunglasses at night?”

“Slade Durant always wears his aviators whenever he’s in deep thought.”

“Ugh, whatever...and why is he taking so long to get in there?”

“You mustn’t rush perfection.  Slade Durant has to let the moment marinate before turning up the heat.”

“He’s gonna marinate himself right into prison.”

“The problem with you guys is you think like normies.  You can’t see the greater picture.  That is why Slade Durant is always one step ahead.”

“Just continue before I cut you off…”

“If you don’t do it, I will.”

“Alright, back to the demise of Dionysus.”

“Deion.”

---

Finished with his cigarette, Slade Durant flicked what remained into the grass, probably killing an ant in the process.  We can’t be entirely sure.  His heavy-heeled boots churned their way atop the loose bits of rocky debris that aged the pavement.  Reaching the front of the dealership, he grabbed the handle and pulled.  Locked.

“Fair play, Deion...fair play,” Slade smiled, admiring the lengths Deion had gone to to keep his establishment safe.

---

“Whoa...did he just expect the fuckin door to be unlocked?”

“Yea, like how is locking the damn door some type of ultra safeguarding power...it’s normal procedure!”

“But...and hear me out...just imagine if Deion HADN’T locked the door.”

“He locked the fuckin door like every other business owner in America!”

“And other countries, we don’t want to cast negative aspersions.”

“Right, my bad.”

“Can I finish or are you guys just gonna bash Greece some more?”

“Alright, fine, go ahead and finish.”

---

The stealthy calculated Slade Durant took a step back, staring at the locked door.  If only he had anticipated such a strong defense.  It was clear he’d have to resort to Plan B.

A man of nature, comfortable in the elements, Slade Durant eyed the area.  “Hehe,” he chuckled with devious calculation as he stepped forward, bent over, and grabbed a rock with a little gecko clutching the bottom of it.  Durant reared back and smashed the rock through the glass door, shattering an opening and murdering the gecko.

He took a long whiff of the night air, “Check Mate, Deion.” 

Durant stepped through the broken door, entering the establishment for the second time that evening.  This time it was lifeless.  Vulnerable.  Open to any and every sort of malevolence Durant had in mind.

He placed his black gym bag on the ground, atop the shattered glass and eyed the vehicle set for sale in the morning.  “You,” his sinister voice declared, raising his hand and pointing at the car as though it could hear him.

---

“Oh shit, so he’s gonna destroy that car?”

“I mean, I gotta say...that’s not half bad.  It’ll cost Deion like, what, fifty grand?  Sixty?  Cars are really expensive these days.”

“Haha oh how simplistic you pedestrians think.”

“Wait, worse than destroy the car?”

“Oh, so much worse.  This is psychological warfare, gentleman and Slade Durant is about to drop a nuke on ole Deion of Lake Charles.”

---

Durant reached into his black gym bag and felt around for a moment before removing...a can of spray paint.  He stood upright, his body shaking due to the light chuckles emanating from within as his evil machinations were close to bearing fruit. 

He shook the can and marched toward the vehicle.  Using his thumb, he snapped the cap off and began to spray...and spray and spray.  His laughter rose along with each second that passed.

Once finished, he took a step back and eyed his work.  The entire driver’s side of the vehicle was marked with the words ‘Deion of ISIS’.  Slade folded his arms and smirked.

---

“Wait, when did this guy become a member of ISIS?  Are you just making shit up now?”

“For real!”

“Don’t you two remember?”

“Obviously not.”

“Those two employees...in the break room...they said ‘ISIS’”

“I think he said ‘I insist’...Slade just misheard him.”

“Yea, that’s right.”

“Nope, wrong.  They said ISIS which means Deion is obviously a member of the terrorist organization.”

“You’ve taken some leaps in logic, caller but this one might trump them all.”

“So he’s just gonna spray paint ISIS all over that car...for what?”

“You simple-minded fools...it’ll ruin the car, rendering it useless, and...AND it’ll out the man as a member of the terrorist organization thus ruining his life!”

“I don’t think that’s going to work.  He’s clearly not a member of the group.”

“Yea, he’s got red hair.  Show me a ginger member of ISIS.”

“Oh but Slade’s treachery doesn’t just end there…”

---

The Dreaded Slade Durant finished tattooing the entire vehicle with the same phrase over and over again.  An act that was, no doubt, set to be the demise of Deion of ISIS.  He took stock of the rest of the showroom.  Several more cars.  Several more cans of spray paint were in his bag.  Several more hours of time to do damage.  He reached inside his bag for another can.

He shook the can, continuing to admire his work.  It slipped from his hand and slammed into the hard, tiled floor of the dealership.  The top of the can burst open and it shot out of the dealership, tearing through the air at an unbelievable rate of speed.  The can shot all the way across the bay, smashing directly into the bottom of the party boat.

Silence. 

Slade Durant shrugged it off.  A popular Taylor Swift song began to play on the boat, the party raging on.  He reached into his bag for another can of spray paint.  As he did, in the background, the bottom of the boat began to catch fire.

---

“Wait a minute…”

“I know, defacing all those vehicles.  So dreaded.”

“No, the boat...is that thing going to catch fire?”

“All those people drinking and partying...someone should warn them!”

“The boat?  Slade is ruining a man’s life and you two are concerned about a fuckin boat?  You guys clearly think on a lower level than Slade Durant.”

---

Durant snared not one but two spray cans out of his gym bag.  As he shook them, in the distance, the flames at the bottom of the boat continued to grow.  The partygoers aboard unaware of the havoc taking place just beneath their feet.

He shook and shook, laughing maniacally.  Once properly shaken, he popped both lids off and headed toward the next vehicle.  Paint spurted free, staining the next car with that same evil message. 

The night raged on, as did the fire.  Before long the entire boat was consumed by fire.  The flames eventually latched onto the copious amounts of booze, which acted as a stimulant. 

Eventually, Slade finished his task and leaned against the shattered entry, taking in his work.  His gym bag holds only the empty spray cans.  Each car is stained with ‘Deion of ISIS’.

“You’re finished, Deion,” Slade discerned as the screams and wails of drunk people burning to death tortured the night sky behind him. 

He picked up his cans and tossed them in the bag.  He slung the bag over his shoulder and lit a triumphant cigarette.  After burning half it down, he callously flicked it forward, onto the floor of the dealership before turning and leaving.  The party boat nearly half sunk in the bay...the screams dying out along with the life that once gave it such ebullience.

---

“…”

“Geezus.”

“I know.  Deion is ruined.  His top-of-the-line inventory was disfigured and his reputation crippled.  He will never, ever recover from this and, thus, will not have the heart to show up at Relentless to face the Dreaded Slade Durant.”

“What…are you...is this even real...I mean…”

“You wanna tell him or should I?”

“I’m flabbergasted, man.”

“The Dreaded Slade Durant will do that to a person.  His evil knows no bounds.  NO BOUNDS.  Every mere mortal put in his path always comes to rue the day when they were booked into dealing with Slade Durant.”

---

As the cigarette was left to smolder and burn on the floor the smoke rose, as smoke tends to do, toward the ceiling.  Eventually, the water system was activated, showering the entire showroom with liquid, and putting out what the system deemed to be a devastating inferno.

The following morning Deion showed up for an exciting day of work.  It wasn’t often he got to kick his day off with an immediate sale.

He found his door to be shattered and rushed inside, terrified someone might have robbed him blind.  After scouring his office, including the safe tucked under his desk, and inspecting every valuable he could think of within the building, he paused in the middle of the showroom.

The floor was soaked.  The cars, however, glistened.  They were free from any graffiti.  Deion wore a puzzled expression.  As far as he could tell someone broke into his business to...wash his cars?

With a sigh, he reached the conclusion he would have to call a glass company out to fix the door, most likely setting him back a few hundred bucks.  But, other than that, a quick mop job and everything would be the way it normally was...only with freshly washed vehicles.

Deion nodded, accepting the strange conclusion to what appeared to be a most calamitous event, and counted his lucky stars.  It was at that moment something caught his eye, bending over he plucked a soaked, half-smoked cigarette off the wet floor.  He gave it little thought before tossing it into the garbage and returning to his office.

---

“The Dreaded Slade Durant has struck once again, gentleman.  And at Relentless he will walk out with that Television Title.  If you ask me, Dionysus won’t even show up...and, I mean, why would he...after the way Slade has twisted and abused his psyche.  But, if he is foolish enough to appear then, well, he’ll regret making that decision, I can assure you.”

“What about the people?”

“Ah yes, the people.  I’m sure the people will rally around Dionysus, IF he shows up.  That’s a big if, by the way.  For no other reason than the fact fans live in ultimate fear of what Slade Durant might do to them should they ever cross his path.  And, yes, the people will also be upset that this weird, convoluted cage match may not take place...given Dionysus most likely calling in sick and handing over his belt.  A cage match in a cell with weapons scattered around it...sounds like something a five year old would come up with.  I remember having that same thought process when I’d hit the soda fountain up and mix every flavor together thinking it was the coolest thing ever only to taste the thing and realize it sucked.  But, ya know, I’d still pretend it was cool because I was young and stupid.  Sadly, Dionysus is no longer young.”

“How can you talk about a match...seriously, man.”

“Look, I get the stipulation is ridiculous and headache-inducing and, yea, probably not all that fun to continually reference so I’ll move on.  If Dionysus manages to show up then he’ll be forced to face Slade Durant in Hades...which I think is hell, to the layman.  Now is it actual hell or are they just set to fight in a Waffle House...that I cannot tell you.  All I know is that whether it be actual hell or a human substitute, Slade Durant will feel right at home.  Where dark things gather.  Where evil chatters.  And where sinister matters...that is where one must start if they hope to find Slade Durant.”

“I never thought I’d say this but, yea, Slade Durant definitely belongs in hell.”

“Finally, you two are coming to your senses...just like the rest of the XWF will at some point.  Sure, mock him all you want right now.  Say things like he’s a relic or he’s only focused on Chet Dakota.  And, yes, Chet Dakota is his primary goal...but he’s far more layered than that.  He knows you have to build up, level up if you want to gain the necessary strength to finally topple your nemesis.  That’s what this is all about.  Mental warfare, gentleman...psychological terror...putting it into practice and gauging the results.  We’ll see just how sharp and focused Dionysus is come Relentless.”

“Look man...we’re not gonna sit here and let you promo for your guy after what he’s done.  That’s not what this podcast is about.”

“Yea, we want to spread the good news of professional wrestling.  To be honest, you and your hero should be in jail.”

“I can see you two, just like Dionysus finds himself at this moment, are consumed with terror.  And I can’t say I blame you.  The Dreaded Slade Durant is the most feared human being to ever walk the Earth.  Relentless is just the beginning, mark my words.  When word reaches the XWF higher-ups that Dionysus cancelled his flight and Fedex’d the TV Title to Hades they will know...everyone will know...the reign of Slade Durant is officially underway.  And, once that happens, not just the world of professional wrestling, but society itself will never be the same.”

CLICK

“Is he gone?

“I think so.”

“Can you believe that shit?”

“You think he’s telling the truth?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The podcast hosts do a quick Google search for Lake Charles news.  Their worst fears are immediately confirmed via the top headline.

“Dude…”

“Do they know?”

“It says here the result of the catastrophe remains a mystery.”

“Well, that’s it...we’ve gotta report this guy.  Fuck Slade Durant...we’ll make sure he’s the one who can’t show up to the match, not Dionysus.”

“Yes!  Let’s get this guy where he belongs...out of a wrestling ring and into prison.”

They locate the Lake Charles police department and find a place to file a report.  They begin typing what they know...it takes awhile.  The podcast host's fingers are jittery and shaky...for some reason, he can feel danger hanging over him.  Like someone’s watching him.

“You okay?”

“Yea, mouth is a little dry and my hands won’t stop shaking.”

“It’s okay, bro.  I got your back.”

He collects himself and manages to fumble his way across the keyboard coherently enough to get the message across.  Slowly, he scrolls to the submit button and is about to press it when the screen glitches.

“Huh?”

It glitches again.

“What’s wrong with your computer, man?”

It glitches and glitches until a live shot of Slade Durant appears staring right at them.  He slowly removes his aviator shades, his dull green eyes revealed behind them, staring right at the podcast host.  He says nothing.  He just stares.

SMACK!

The laptop is immediately closed shut.  The hosts look at one another.

“Did you…”

“Fuck that, man.  I ain’t reporting shit.”]]>
---------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“But I thought you said you loved playing strip FreeCell with me.”

“…”

“What?”

“We’re on air, bro.”

“Shit.”

“...and there you have it, folks!  Just a glimpse at the improv routine we’ve been working on!”

“Uh, yes!  Improv!  So much improv!”

“And you might be asking WHY are we doing improv live on air here at On The Apron?  Because we’re waiting on our infamous, strange caller to ring in and finish his Slade Durant story.”

“I say we give him another ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes of dead air is awfully ballsy, my friend.”

“You’re awfully ballsy.”

“Teehee...anyway, we’re just sitting here, waiting and...hold on!”

“Is that him?”

“It’s got to be!...hello, caller...you’re live with On The Apron!”

“Hey guys, love that improv work.  Very visceral.  Anyway, I’m calling in to chat a little bit about Dionysus, the XWF TV Champ, who-”

“Gone.”

“Yea, hang up on his ass.”

“We don’t have time for lame topics.  We’re, sadly, on the edge of our seats for this Slade Durant bullshit.”

“Exactly, I...hold on, is that another caller?”

“This has to be him…”

“Yo, Caller...you’re on the air with On The Apron!  Speaketh!”

“Fellas…”

“It’s him!”

“About damn time.”

“I can see you’re finally beginning to understand the power of Slade Durant.”

“No, not really.”

“It’s kind of a slow wrestling news day, to be honest.”

“Yea, not as though a whole bunch of wrestlers are being fired or anything.”

“That’s because the entire wrestling world sits and awaits the conclusion of how Slade Durant broke Dionysus.”

“I thought his name was Deion.”

“Yea.”

“No, it’s Dionysus.”

“Seem to remember it being Deion.”

“IT’S DIONYSUS!”

“Okay, fine, whatever...let’s just get to it.”

“Seriously.”

“The Dreaded Slade Durant waited for Deion to exit his Lake Charles dealership as a party boat sailed loudly by in the bay directly behind the parking lot.  Deion was unaware of the true horror that awaited him…”

---

“I’m walking on sunshine, wooooaahhh,” Deion sang as he unlocked the door to his van with an extra pep in his step.  The man loved making a sale.

Slade watched the vehicle exit leaving the entire enterprise unattended.  It was now or never.  Slade’s moment to do whatever dastardly deed he had planned.  And, not one to hesitate, Slade promptly exited his vehicle with a black gym back gripped tightly by his right hand.

Basking in the moment, the pre-crime buzz, Slade enjoyed a cigarette against the warm, bay breeze coasting off the salted waters of Lake Charles.  The image of the party boat reflected off the mirrored lenses of his aviator shades clouded only by the occasional puff of smoke emitted through his slightly parted lips and teeth so white they seemed to glow in the dark.

---

“Wait, wait, hold up...why is he wearing his sunglasses at night?”

“Slade Durant always wears his aviators whenever he’s in deep thought.”

“Ugh, whatever...and why is he taking so long to get in there?”

“You mustn’t rush perfection.  Slade Durant has to let the moment marinate before turning up the heat.”

“He’s gonna marinate himself right into prison.”

“The problem with you guys is you think like normies.  You can’t see the greater picture.  That is why Slade Durant is always one step ahead.”

“Just continue before I cut you off…”

“If you don’t do it, I will.”

“Alright, back to the demise of Dionysus.”

“Deion.”

---

Finished with his cigarette, Slade Durant flicked what remained into the grass, probably killing an ant in the process.  We can’t be entirely sure.  His heavy-heeled boots churned their way atop the loose bits of rocky debris that aged the pavement.  Reaching the front of the dealership, he grabbed the handle and pulled.  Locked.

“Fair play, Deion...fair play,” Slade smiled, admiring the lengths Deion had gone to to keep his establishment safe.

---

“Whoa...did he just expect the fuckin door to be unlocked?”

“Yea, like how is locking the damn door some type of ultra safeguarding power...it’s normal procedure!”

“But...and hear me out...just imagine if Deion HADN’T locked the door.”

“He locked the fuckin door like every other business owner in America!”

“And other countries, we don’t want to cast negative aspersions.”

“Right, my bad.”

“Can I finish or are you guys just gonna bash Greece some more?”

“Alright, fine, go ahead and finish.”

---

The stealthy calculated Slade Durant took a step back, staring at the locked door.  If only he had anticipated such a strong defense.  It was clear he’d have to resort to Plan B.

A man of nature, comfortable in the elements, Slade Durant eyed the area.  “Hehe,” he chuckled with devious calculation as he stepped forward, bent over, and grabbed a rock with a little gecko clutching the bottom of it.  Durant reared back and smashed the rock through the glass door, shattering an opening and murdering the gecko.

He took a long whiff of the night air, “Check Mate, Deion.” 

Durant stepped through the broken door, entering the establishment for the second time that evening.  This time it was lifeless.  Vulnerable.  Open to any and every sort of malevolence Durant had in mind.

He placed his black gym bag on the ground, atop the shattered glass and eyed the vehicle set for sale in the morning.  “You,” his sinister voice declared, raising his hand and pointing at the car as though it could hear him.

---

“Oh shit, so he’s gonna destroy that car?”

“I mean, I gotta say...that’s not half bad.  It’ll cost Deion like, what, fifty grand?  Sixty?  Cars are really expensive these days.”

“Haha oh how simplistic you pedestrians think.”

“Wait, worse than destroy the car?”

“Oh, so much worse.  This is psychological warfare, gentleman and Slade Durant is about to drop a nuke on ole Deion of Lake Charles.”

---

Durant reached into his black gym bag and felt around for a moment before removing...a can of spray paint.  He stood upright, his body shaking due to the light chuckles emanating from within as his evil machinations were close to bearing fruit. 

He shook the can and marched toward the vehicle.  Using his thumb, he snapped the cap off and began to spray...and spray and spray.  His laughter rose along with each second that passed.

Once finished, he took a step back and eyed his work.  The entire driver’s side of the vehicle was marked with the words ‘Deion of ISIS’.  Slade folded his arms and smirked.

---

“Wait, when did this guy become a member of ISIS?  Are you just making shit up now?”

“For real!”

“Don’t you two remember?”

“Obviously not.”

“Those two employees...in the break room...they said ‘ISIS’”

“I think he said ‘I insist’...Slade just misheard him.”

“Yea, that’s right.”

“Nope, wrong.  They said ISIS which means Deion is obviously a member of the terrorist organization.”

“You’ve taken some leaps in logic, caller but this one might trump them all.”

“So he’s just gonna spray paint ISIS all over that car...for what?”

“You simple-minded fools...it’ll ruin the car, rendering it useless, and...AND it’ll out the man as a member of the terrorist organization thus ruining his life!”

“I don’t think that’s going to work.  He’s clearly not a member of the group.”

“Yea, he’s got red hair.  Show me a ginger member of ISIS.”

“Oh but Slade’s treachery doesn’t just end there…”

---

The Dreaded Slade Durant finished tattooing the entire vehicle with the same phrase over and over again.  An act that was, no doubt, set to be the demise of Deion of ISIS.  He took stock of the rest of the showroom.  Several more cars.  Several more cans of spray paint were in his bag.  Several more hours of time to do damage.  He reached inside his bag for another can.

He shook the can, continuing to admire his work.  It slipped from his hand and slammed into the hard, tiled floor of the dealership.  The top of the can burst open and it shot out of the dealership, tearing through the air at an unbelievable rate of speed.  The can shot all the way across the bay, smashing directly into the bottom of the party boat.

Silence. 

Slade Durant shrugged it off.  A popular Taylor Swift song began to play on the boat, the party raging on.  He reached into his bag for another can of spray paint.  As he did, in the background, the bottom of the boat began to catch fire.

---

“Wait a minute…”

“I know, defacing all those vehicles.  So dreaded.”

“No, the boat...is that thing going to catch fire?”

“All those people drinking and partying...someone should warn them!”

“The boat?  Slade is ruining a man’s life and you two are concerned about a fuckin boat?  You guys clearly think on a lower level than Slade Durant.”

---

Durant snared not one but two spray cans out of his gym bag.  As he shook them, in the distance, the flames at the bottom of the boat continued to grow.  The partygoers aboard unaware of the havoc taking place just beneath their feet.

He shook and shook, laughing maniacally.  Once properly shaken, he popped both lids off and headed toward the next vehicle.  Paint spurted free, staining the next car with that same evil message. 

The night raged on, as did the fire.  Before long the entire boat was consumed by fire.  The flames eventually latched onto the copious amounts of booze, which acted as a stimulant. 

Eventually, Slade finished his task and leaned against the shattered entry, taking in his work.  His gym bag holds only the empty spray cans.  Each car is stained with ‘Deion of ISIS’.

“You’re finished, Deion,” Slade discerned as the screams and wails of drunk people burning to death tortured the night sky behind him. 

He picked up his cans and tossed them in the bag.  He slung the bag over his shoulder and lit a triumphant cigarette.  After burning half it down, he callously flicked it forward, onto the floor of the dealership before turning and leaving.  The party boat nearly half sunk in the bay...the screams dying out along with the life that once gave it such ebullience.

---

“…”

“Geezus.”

“I know.  Deion is ruined.  His top-of-the-line inventory was disfigured and his reputation crippled.  He will never, ever recover from this and, thus, will not have the heart to show up at Relentless to face the Dreaded Slade Durant.”

“What…are you...is this even real...I mean…”

“You wanna tell him or should I?”

“I’m flabbergasted, man.”

“The Dreaded Slade Durant will do that to a person.  His evil knows no bounds.  NO BOUNDS.  Every mere mortal put in his path always comes to rue the day when they were booked into dealing with Slade Durant.”

---

As the cigarette was left to smolder and burn on the floor the smoke rose, as smoke tends to do, toward the ceiling.  Eventually, the water system was activated, showering the entire showroom with liquid, and putting out what the system deemed to be a devastating inferno.

The following morning Deion showed up for an exciting day of work.  It wasn’t often he got to kick his day off with an immediate sale.

He found his door to be shattered and rushed inside, terrified someone might have robbed him blind.  After scouring his office, including the safe tucked under his desk, and inspecting every valuable he could think of within the building, he paused in the middle of the showroom.

The floor was soaked.  The cars, however, glistened.  They were free from any graffiti.  Deion wore a puzzled expression.  As far as he could tell someone broke into his business to...wash his cars?

With a sigh, he reached the conclusion he would have to call a glass company out to fix the door, most likely setting him back a few hundred bucks.  But, other than that, a quick mop job and everything would be the way it normally was...only with freshly washed vehicles.

Deion nodded, accepting the strange conclusion to what appeared to be a most calamitous event, and counted his lucky stars.  It was at that moment something caught his eye, bending over he plucked a soaked, half-smoked cigarette off the wet floor.  He gave it little thought before tossing it into the garbage and returning to his office.

---

“The Dreaded Slade Durant has struck once again, gentleman.  And at Relentless he will walk out with that Television Title.  If you ask me, Dionysus won’t even show up...and, I mean, why would he...after the way Slade has twisted and abused his psyche.  But, if he is foolish enough to appear then, well, he’ll regret making that decision, I can assure you.”

“What about the people?”

“Ah yes, the people.  I’m sure the people will rally around Dionysus, IF he shows up.  That’s a big if, by the way.  For no other reason than the fact fans live in ultimate fear of what Slade Durant might do to them should they ever cross his path.  And, yes, the people will also be upset that this weird, convoluted cage match may not take place...given Dionysus most likely calling in sick and handing over his belt.  A cage match in a cell with weapons scattered around it...sounds like something a five year old would come up with.  I remember having that same thought process when I’d hit the soda fountain up and mix every flavor together thinking it was the coolest thing ever only to taste the thing and realize it sucked.  But, ya know, I’d still pretend it was cool because I was young and stupid.  Sadly, Dionysus is no longer young.”

“How can you talk about a match...seriously, man.”

“Look, I get the stipulation is ridiculous and headache-inducing and, yea, probably not all that fun to continually reference so I’ll move on.  If Dionysus manages to show up then he’ll be forced to face Slade Durant in Hades...which I think is hell, to the layman.  Now is it actual hell or are they just set to fight in a Waffle House...that I cannot tell you.  All I know is that whether it be actual hell or a human substitute, Slade Durant will feel right at home.  Where dark things gather.  Where evil chatters.  And where sinister matters...that is where one must start if they hope to find Slade Durant.”

“I never thought I’d say this but, yea, Slade Durant definitely belongs in hell.”

“Finally, you two are coming to your senses...just like the rest of the XWF will at some point.  Sure, mock him all you want right now.  Say things like he’s a relic or he’s only focused on Chet Dakota.  And, yes, Chet Dakota is his primary goal...but he’s far more layered than that.  He knows you have to build up, level up if you want to gain the necessary strength to finally topple your nemesis.  That’s what this is all about.  Mental warfare, gentleman...psychological terror...putting it into practice and gauging the results.  We’ll see just how sharp and focused Dionysus is come Relentless.”

“Look man...we’re not gonna sit here and let you promo for your guy after what he’s done.  That’s not what this podcast is about.”

“Yea, we want to spread the good news of professional wrestling.  To be honest, you and your hero should be in jail.”

“I can see you two, just like Dionysus finds himself at this moment, are consumed with terror.  And I can’t say I blame you.  The Dreaded Slade Durant is the most feared human being to ever walk the Earth.  Relentless is just the beginning, mark my words.  When word reaches the XWF higher-ups that Dionysus cancelled his flight and Fedex’d the TV Title to Hades they will know...everyone will know...the reign of Slade Durant is officially underway.  And, once that happens, not just the world of professional wrestling, but society itself will never be the same.”

CLICK

“Is he gone?

“I think so.”

“Can you believe that shit?”

“You think he’s telling the truth?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The podcast hosts do a quick Google search for Lake Charles news.  Their worst fears are immediately confirmed via the top headline.

“Dude…”

“Do they know?”

“It says here the result of the catastrophe remains a mystery.”

“Well, that’s it...we’ve gotta report this guy.  Fuck Slade Durant...we’ll make sure he’s the one who can’t show up to the match, not Dionysus.”

“Yes!  Let’s get this guy where he belongs...out of a wrestling ring and into prison.”

They locate the Lake Charles police department and find a place to file a report.  They begin typing what they know...it takes awhile.  The podcast host's fingers are jittery and shaky...for some reason, he can feel danger hanging over him.  Like someone’s watching him.

“You okay?”

“Yea, mouth is a little dry and my hands won’t stop shaking.”

“It’s okay, bro.  I got your back.”

He collects himself and manages to fumble his way across the keyboard coherently enough to get the message across.  Slowly, he scrolls to the submit button and is about to press it when the screen glitches.

“Huh?”

It glitches again.

“What’s wrong with your computer, man?”

It glitches and glitches until a live shot of Slade Durant appears staring right at them.  He slowly removes his aviator shades, his dull green eyes revealed behind them, staring right at the podcast host.  He says nothing.  He just stares.

SMACK!

The laptop is immediately closed shut.  The hosts look at one another.

“Did you…”

“Fuck that, man.  I ain’t reporting shit.”]]> <![CDATA[Third time lucky]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46900 Thu, 21 Sep 2023 16:59:54 -0700 Mastermind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46900 CUMA, ITALY

The Misfits and I had been slowly walking on the trail looking for the opening to the world of Hades, for the 1st Night of Relentless. 

I was leading the way, followed by Victor, who was keeping up a good pace, followed by Antony the Jerk, then came Scarlet the Hunteress, followed up by the grumpy Kris The Hammer Von Bonn, and last was Melanie 'Crayzee' Childs.

Every 5 minutes or so it was Melanie who called out "Are we there yet?"

To which everyone responded "No,"

I did have a small quite interesting conversation with Victor though as we got close to where Hades was supposed to be.

"Mastermind,"

"Yes,"

"Next year will be your tenth year with the XWF, is that correct?"

"Yes, but I did take 2 years off in the middle for needing a total reset,"

"As would anyone,"

"So what of it, Victor?"

"How much longer do you see yourself competing full time?  Surely you must be ready to become a part-timer,"

I stopped and looked at Victor.

"It's coming, I can assure you of that.  I know how much you want to take control of the Misfits, but you've only just arrived, but let me tell you this out of everyone, I do feel you have what it takes to take over.  But that's not now,"

"I was only getting a general feeling Mastermind,"

"Good, now you got it, you can let it go.  I will let you know.  Just get yourself prepared for your debut match.  I need to focus on my upcoming match."

"Understood sir, thank you for your clarification,"

I continued on first, just to show him that I was still the leader, and not ready to relinquish the role any time soon.  I also needed to get focused for my upcoming match.  


CUMA, ITALY

The camera fades into an area where reception has become a bit iffy.  The camera keeps flickering on and off, but the camera man and technicians finally found a frequency strong enough to last for as long as it can take.  It shows the Misfits just outside an opening to a cave to what is said to be the entrance to Hades, where the 3 Night Pay Per View, Relentless, is about to take place.

Mastermind steps forwards.

"They say things come in threes.  Deaths, Accidents, Surprises, Lottery Wins, and so on, and so on.  It certainly is the same with my upcoming match.  It will be the third time that I come up against Molly Barnes.  And I'm yet to beat her.  Yes, that's a shocker I know so well.

"Molly this match that we are having is a number 1 contenders match for the Anarchy title between Edward and Sidney Grey.  We all know who's going to win that on Night 2, and that is the boring old Edward.  I am so sick of him.

"So Molly if you think it is me who is under the most pressure to get a win over you, that is not the case.  It is you who will be under so much more pressure to keep a tick next to your name to stay underfeated and because of that you will fail in your quest.

"I am going to push you to your limits, and for you that will be so much terrifying, as I don't think you will be handle the ruthless way that I will come at you, it will be unrelenting.  In a way it will be Relentless."

Mastermind looks away and sees the Misfits itching to go into the cave, and then looks back smirking his infamous smirk.

"I will come with a siege mentality, Molly.  And that is because I do not want to spend one second longer in Hades than I wish.  I want to go in, hit you with everything I got, destroy you, and get the big fat W over you, and get the hell out.  I feel you would just take your time.  I have no time for those shenanigans.  You can pray if you want if you are the religious kind, but it won't get you very far, because we are going to be in the depths of hell.  Hell has no fury Molly like Mastermind who needs another W to his name.

"I'm coming for you, I truly hope you are ready because I really don't think you are,"

Mastermind walks towards the cave entrance, and disappears inside, followed by the rest of the Misfits, and the camera fades out.


]]> CUMA, ITALY

The Misfits and I had been slowly walking on the trail looking for the opening to the world of Hades, for the 1st Night of Relentless. 

I was leading the way, followed by Victor, who was keeping up a good pace, followed by Antony the Jerk, then came Scarlet the Hunteress, followed up by the grumpy Kris The Hammer Von Bonn, and last was Melanie 'Crayzee' Childs.

Every 5 minutes or so it was Melanie who called out "Are we there yet?"

To which everyone responded "No,"

I did have a small quite interesting conversation with Victor though as we got close to where Hades was supposed to be.

"Mastermind,"

"Yes,"

"Next year will be your tenth year with the XWF, is that correct?"

"Yes, but I did take 2 years off in the middle for needing a total reset,"

"As would anyone,"

"So what of it, Victor?"

"How much longer do you see yourself competing full time?  Surely you must be ready to become a part-timer,"

I stopped and looked at Victor.

"It's coming, I can assure you of that.  I know how much you want to take control of the Misfits, but you've only just arrived, but let me tell you this out of everyone, I do feel you have what it takes to take over.  But that's not now,"

"I was only getting a general feeling Mastermind,"

"Good, now you got it, you can let it go.  I will let you know.  Just get yourself prepared for your debut match.  I need to focus on my upcoming match."

"Understood sir, thank you for your clarification,"

I continued on first, just to show him that I was still the leader, and not ready to relinquish the role any time soon.  I also needed to get focused for my upcoming match.  


CUMA, ITALY

The camera fades into an area where reception has become a bit iffy.  The camera keeps flickering on and off, but the camera man and technicians finally found a frequency strong enough to last for as long as it can take.  It shows the Misfits just outside an opening to a cave to what is said to be the entrance to Hades, where the 3 Night Pay Per View, Relentless, is about to take place.

Mastermind steps forwards.

"They say things come in threes.  Deaths, Accidents, Surprises, Lottery Wins, and so on, and so on.  It certainly is the same with my upcoming match.  It will be the third time that I come up against Molly Barnes.  And I'm yet to beat her.  Yes, that's a shocker I know so well.

"Molly this match that we are having is a number 1 contenders match for the Anarchy title between Edward and Sidney Grey.  We all know who's going to win that on Night 2, and that is the boring old Edward.  I am so sick of him.

"So Molly if you think it is me who is under the most pressure to get a win over you, that is not the case.  It is you who will be under so much more pressure to keep a tick next to your name to stay underfeated and because of that you will fail in your quest.

"I am going to push you to your limits, and for you that will be so much terrifying, as I don't think you will be handle the ruthless way that I will come at you, it will be unrelenting.  In a way it will be Relentless."

Mastermind looks away and sees the Misfits itching to go into the cave, and then looks back smirking his infamous smirk.

"I will come with a siege mentality, Molly.  And that is because I do not want to spend one second longer in Hades than I wish.  I want to go in, hit you with everything I got, destroy you, and get the big fat W over you, and get the hell out.  I feel you would just take your time.  I have no time for those shenanigans.  You can pray if you want if you are the religious kind, but it won't get you very far, because we are going to be in the depths of hell.  Hell has no fury Molly like Mastermind who needs another W to his name.

"I'm coming for you, I truly hope you are ready because I really don't think you are,"

Mastermind walks towards the cave entrance, and disappears inside, followed by the rest of the Misfits, and the camera fades out.


]]> <![CDATA[A Night to Remember]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46899 Thu, 21 Sep 2023 16:02:44 -0700 The Atomic Bat]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46899

[Image: Saint-Boniface-transformed.jpg]
Saint Boniface Hospital - 02/10/2023

The hospital room was silent, other than the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. The sterile smell of disinfectants lingered through the air, and the soft glow from the bedside lamp cast a dim light over the room.

Ruby Debuchy, known to the world as the high-flying superhero RUBY, lay in the hospital bed. A cast covered her leg, and a series of bruises were visible on her arms and face, grim reminders of Sidney Grey and Gina Van Zyls vicious attack that had sidelined her from the sport she loved so dearly.

Vita Valenteen sat in a bedside chair, her face etched with worry. She had always looked up to Ruby, both as a mentor and as a beacon of hope. The two had shared countless hours in the ring, training together, and forging a bond stronger than many could understand. While the world saw the heroic 'Banana-Lime Blur' from the rings of Anarchy, Vita saw more than that. She looked to Ruby as a pillar of strength, resilience, and inspiration.

Ruby's eyes fluttered open, momentarily disoriented, then focused on Vita. A weak smile formed on her lips, "V...? What are you doing here?"

Vita's voice choked with emotion, "I had to see you, Rubes. After what happened... I just had to make sure you were okay."

Ruby leaned back, looking at the city's skyline, "There's something mesmerizing about this view, isn't there?"

Vita glanced at the window, noticing the myriad of lights that twinkled in the distance. "Yeah, it's beautiful," she murmured, "but not as beautiful as seeing you up and talking."

Ruby's face grew somber. "Sidney's always played dirty, but this... it's beyond anything I thought she'd do."

Vita clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "She won't get away with this, Ruby. I'll make sure of it."

Ruby reached out, placing a gentle hand on Vita's clenched fist, urging her to relax. "V, revenge isn't the answer. We're in this for the love of the sport, for the rush of the ring, and the connection with the crowd. Don't ever lose sight of that."

Vita sighed, trying to hold back her tears. "But seeing you like this? It's hard, Rubes. And knowing that Sidney Grey’s just going to get away with it…"

Ruby took a deep breath, her gaze shifted back to the skyline. "Do you remember, V, the first time you joined me on a mission?"

Vita's brow furrowed, searching her memories. "You mean the docks? That arms deal?"

Ruby nodded. "Exactly. You were so... spirited. You burst into that scene with the fury of a raging tempest. I had never seen anyone so bold, so fearless. But it was reckless, too. We almost didn't make it out that night."

Vita smirked, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, in my defense, I did save you from that thug with the knife."

Ruby chuckled. "True, but you nearly got yourself shot in the process. You've always been all heart, V. But that night, I saw something else. Something I couldn't quite place."

Vita stiffened, her defenses rising. "What do you mean?"

Ruby's expression softened. "There's darkness in you, Vita. Even before you were turned, I could see it. An abyss that threatened to consume you if given the chance. It's what makes you fierce in the ring and loyal to a fault. But it's also a danger."

Tears welled up in Vita's eyes. "You think I'm a monster..."

Ruby reached out, cradling Vita's face in her hands. "No, V. I think you're incredibly human. Your emotions, your passions, they burn brighter than most. And that's what makes you extraordinary. But it also makes you vulnerable. Especially now."

Vita looked away. "The thirst, the hunger... it's always there, lurking in the background."

"I know," Ruby whispered. "But you can't let that darkness take over. Especially not for revenge. It's a path that only leads to more pain, more suffering."

Vita's voice trembled. "But Sidney—"

"Forget Sidney," Ruby interrupted, her voice firm. "She'll get what's coming to her. Karma has a way of balancing things out. But you can't lose yourself in the process. You're too important to me, to the world."

Vita's eyes searched Ruby's. "I just... I want to make things right."

Ruby smiled sadly. "I know you do. But the best way to do that is by being the hero I know you are. By showing the world that no matter how dark things get, there's always a light."

Vita closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. As the air in the room seemed to thicken. Finally, she opened her eyes again and met Ruby's.

"You've never asked me for anything, Ruby," Vita said softly, "and we've been through so much together. I've always admired your courage, your convictions. If you believe in karma, in the balance of things, then maybe it's time I tried believing in it too."

Ruby's eyes twinkled, mimicking the city skyline behind her. "You won't regret it, V. Sometimes the best way to win a fight is to rise above it, to show that you're better, stronger. The universe has a way of recognizing that."

Vita felt a sense of warmth spread through her, despite her typical cold vampiric nature.

"I'll try," Vita promised, "for you, for us, and for whatever's left of my own humanity."

Ruby reached for Vita's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "And for the love of the sport, the thrill of the ring, and the joy of bringing hope to those who need it. That's what heroes do, V."

Vita nodded, her eyes welling up again, but this time with a mixture of gratitude and resolution. "I won't forget that, Rubes. And the next time I step into that ring, (or into the night!) I'll carry this moment with me. As a reminder of who I can be– of who should be!"

Ruby grinned, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "In the darkest nights, remember this moment, V. It's our light, our beacon. It's what heroes are made of."


[Image: Grand-City.jpg]

Grand City - Present Day

It was the kind of night that kept Grand City’s underbelly active.

The moon, half concealed by threatening clouds, painted the city in shades of silver and gray.

Down one of its notorious alleys, a fight was already underway.

The rain soaked streets provided a grimy backdrop as Batarangs sliced through the darkness incapacitating two goons before they even knew what hit them.

Atomic Bat spun through the air, her dark cape flowing behind her.

A hint of a smirk played on her lips as she landed gracefully, her boots making a light thud on the wet pavement.

"Is that all you've got?" She taunted, her eyes scanning the motley crew of thugs surrounding her. "You’re gonna need more than switchblades and pipe wrenches to take me down, so how about everyone just put down their weapons and come peacefully?"

A thug lunged at her from the side, swinging a rusty chain. With a fluid motion, AB deflected the attack, grabbed the chain, and yanked it from the thug's grasp, sending him sprawling onto the pavement.

"Don't lose your grip now," she quipped, twirling the chain and tossing it aside.

Another thug charged, his fist clenched around a knife. AB danced to the side, spinning around him and delivering a sharp kick to his back, propelling him into a stack of old crates.

"Knives to a superhero fight? How passé," she mused, her eyes never leaving her adversaries.

Yet, the numbers were against her. She could sense her energy beginning to wane as more and more thugs continued to join the fray.

From the shadows, a masked thug observed her every move. He went unnoticed as he silently withdrew a revolver from his coat pocket.

"You've got spirit, Bat, I'll give you that!" One of the thugs sneered as he swung a lead pipe towards her head. "But spirit won't save you now!"

AB deflected the pipe with her forearm as her eyes narrowed. "It's not the spirit of the bat that should worry you... It's the fangs!"

Just as she turned to deliver a devastating counter, a loud BANG shot through the air, and a searing pain exploded in her chest.

A bullet had found its mark.

Gasping, her eyes widened in shock as her hand instinctively went to the wound. When she pulled her hand away, her glove was stained with her own blood.  The bullet sizzled and burned in her chest, causing her agonizing pain.

"S..sssilver!?" She rasped, staggering back. Her eyes darted around, settling on the masked thug smirking from the shadows with his smoking gun still aimed in her direction.

She dropped to her knees as her vision began to blur. The thugs closed in on her, jeering and laughing.

Everything was beginning to darken, but a thought crossed Atomic Bat's mind. 

Why would these random thugs have silver bullets? Her true identity, her vampiric nature, was something she had kept hidden from the world.

No one knew her secret.

She caught her breath and tried to make sense of the situation.

The idea of these average street criminals knowing her true nature seemed far fetched. She had always been careful, always kept her distance and her identity a secret. It must have been just a vain attempt at luxury from a gangster with more money than sense.

Still, it left her wounded and vulnerable in the heart of the city she loved as the gang converged on her, their victory certain.

However, from the shadows, a new figure emerged.

It was the Blue Tango!

"HEY!"

All of the thugs turned their attention away from AB and towards Tango.  He stood, pointing at the thugs with his chest puffed out and cape flailing behind him in the wind.  A small smirk was stretched across his face.

"That's my bread and butter you're screwing with!"

He took a large step forward and…

Superhero Pose:...




...he tightens up his stance!




ENGAGED!

With lightning-like speed, he dispatched two of the thugs with swift kicks before they even knew what hit them.

Atomic Bat managed a strained smile. "Took you long enough," she whispered, dropping heavily onto the wet pavement.

Blue Tango's expression darkened, an aura of fury radiating from him. With swift, ruthless precision, he tore into the thugs. His fists weren't just to disarm, they aimed to incapacitate, if not decapitate,  and cause real pain. Bones cracked and groans of agony echoed in the alley as Blue Tango unleashed a brutality that left his foes writhing in pain on the ground.

The last thug, masked and desperate, aimed a silver revolver at Blue Tango. "I wouldn't if I were you," Blue Tango growled.

Before the thug could react, Atomic Bat, summoning her remaining strength, hurled a batarang. The weapon hit its mark, dislodging the gun from the thug's grasp.

As it clattered away, Blue Tango advanced on the masked thug, his intent clear in his eyes. The thug tried to put up a fight, but Blue Tango was relentless. A vicious punch to the gut, a brutal kick to the knee that bent it sideways — the masked thug crumpled, gasping and broken.  Barely able to hold himself to one knee, they cried out in pain as Tango grabbed them by the shirt collar to hold them up.  He pulled back a fist and cracked the thug square in the nose, disintegrating it in the man's face. Tango held them long enough to watch the man's eyes roll to the back of their head before carelessly dropping them.

As the thug hit the ground, a cell phone dropped from their pocket.  Tango went to step away, but something told him to pick it up, so he did.  Without wasting another moment, Blue Tango hurried to Atomic Bat's side, his fury replaced by concern. "Stay with me, AB," he called out, cradling her carefully in his arms.

She managed a weak nod, her eyes meeting his for a moment before finally closing. Her body went slack in his arms as she lost consciousness.


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


Back at HQ, Harlot was intently working on the Atomic Bat, stitching the ghastly wound left by a silver bullet.  AB was still out of it, lying unconscious on a makeshift operating table they had for such as emergencies.  Instead of Tango's usual erratic and upset demeanor he was surprisingly as cool as a cucumber.  It's been seen how this recent change to his body has improved his fighting ability and physicality…  and aggressiveness…  He paced around the table looking focused and determined.  Harlot stopped sewing and sighed…

Breaking the tense silence, Harlot looked up. "Tango, your pacing won't speed up her recovery. And you're making it really hard for me to concentrate!"

Halting abruptly, Tango rested his hands on his hips.

"Sorry!  I'm just…  FUMING, Harlot!  I swear, I'm going to track down EVERY thug in this city and make them pay!"  The Blue Tango pulled up a fist and showed it to Harlot who rolled her eyes and went back to work.

Harlot, trying to de-escalate the situation, advised, "You need to step back, breathe, and regroup. Impulsiveness won't help anyone right now."

Tango's frustration was evident. "More waiting around…  It seems like all we're ever doing is waiting around…  Coming up with a plan…  Covering every basis and every scenario, but why?  Why bother when the plan never goes the way it's supposed to?  Why think up every possible scenario because when we do, it changes!"

Harlot didn't meet his gaze, focusing on her delicate task.

"Like that there!  I thought AB was bulletproof?  Or something?"

"It's odd that those thugs had silver bullets loaded in their guns. They're not exactly standard issue."

"Silver… bullets?  I thought that was werewolves?"  *GASP!*  "Is AB a werewolf, too?"

"No, silly.  Silver works on werewolves AND vamps…  OBVIOUSLY! Haven't you ever seen Blade!?"

"Huh.."  Tango bit his lip and cocked an eyebrow in concern.  "She gonna be okay?"

With a reassuring nod, Harlot responded, "She will. The silver did its damage, searing her from the inside. But now that it's outta there she'll heal up quick enough.  That's an advantage of being what she is."

Tango stared at the picture painted before him.  He started to feel nauseous and a cold bead of sweat trickled down the side of his head, so he headed towards the door.

"I'm gonna go get some air, I think.  You good?"

Harlot didn't look up, she just kept working on AB.  Tango sighed and went out the door and to the roof.  He paced around in a circle and stretched out his arms, taking in the cool night air.

"I can't believe this.  We're less than a week away from defending the XWF Tag Team Titles at Relentless, the grandest show in the universe, and AB has to go and get herself shot.  And she worries about me going out on my own?  Before maybe, but right now, I think I'm even stronger than she is…  If she lets me!"

Tango started to breath heavily and angrily through his nose, riling himself up.

"'Get the bad guys' should have one threshold, 'Get-the-bad-guys'.  Plain and simple.  If they end up with bloody noses or need surgery on their legs, big deal!  It's not like I'm going on murder sprees, for crying out loud.  I lay down the law and don't need zip ties when I'm done.  I show a few punks who's boss and our partnership, heck, our very friendship barely hangs on by a thread…"

Frustrated, Tango took a seat on the roof and lied back on the cold concrete looking up to the cloudy, starless night sky.  He took a couple of deep breaths and sprawled out into a quick YOGA pose before lying back again.

"She's a freaking vampire, she'll be fine.  Harlot pulled that bullet out no problem, she'll heal up ten times faster than us humans and be on her feet long before our match.  It feels like it's already in the bag, so maybe I'll handle the heavy lifting and we can get out of there before all the good restaurants close.  I'm not sure when that would be in a place like Hades, but it never hurts to play it safe."

"I have to admit, it's a total bummer that we're representing one of the greatest championships in the universe, the XWF Tag Team Championship, and defending them night one on the grandest of stages, only to be kinda blown off by our opposition.  Not saying they're not going to show up to the match, but usually you hear a thing or two from them leading up to the thing, ya know?  Oh well.  Maybe they have nothing to say or know something that we don't…  In my eyes, it's the next and probably worst thrown together team we've had to date.  LSM and HGH looked like absolute crap on Anarchy going up against two teams of that AB and I would rip apart…  AHEM…  I mean, 'BEAT'.  We'd win the same as we have against any team that's crossed us since we've won these straps and any team that dares to cross us again.  'The End' have ZERO chemistry in or, heck, even out of the ring.  Like, no teamwork in the match…  I mean, sure, it was Tornado Rules and all, and so is this, but still…  They just attacked without thinking and just tried beating their opponents down with no real strategy going in except for the one at the start.  In my eyes, if they thought that much ahead to get the upper-hand against two teams that probably aren't going to make it two weeks, then this is going to be a cake-walk.  Easy Street.  Chalk-up another title defense win, baby, we're going to DisneyLand!"

Tango leaned up and laughed to himself.  "It's true though, not the DisneyLand part, probably, but the win."

"After that display, win or not, LSM and HGH have no business in a Tag Team Title match at Anarchy, Warfare, or, especially, freaking Relentless and it's going to show.  If we don't embarrass them to the point that they're just straight up banned from tag team competition going forward, I'll look at that as a failure.  Underhanded tactics and ambushes are something we specialize against and they've already proven that they're not just garbage in the ring, but garbage humans, too.  What we've got here is just another couple of simple baddies that the Blue Tango and Atomic Bat have to…  neutralize.  I'd rather say punish, but for AB's sake…  Maybe I can start holding back a little."

"What.  A.  Dilemma..."

Tango nearly jumped out of his skin and turned around to the voice behind him!  From the shadows out walked Pussywhipped.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough…"

[Image: UMfQloL.png]

Tango was still running on high from all the adrenaline from earlier, plus the new natural high that he lives now.  They stood facing each other for a few seconds.  Pussywhipped looked at him with intrigue.

"What brings you out so late at night?"

"I can't stop by for a visit?"  Pussywhipped purrs with her familiar sultry cadence.

"I never said that."

"Is your friend okay?"

"I think so.  Harlot knows hella first aid and AB's tough anyway."

"Tango, there's a bounty out for you…  and the Atomic Bat."

His eyes widened in disbelief, searching hers for any sign of deception. "A bounty?!  For what?!"

"From Doomsayer.  You're the last two heroes alive and he wants you… taken care of."

Tango tightened his fists and looked for something to punch, but there was nothing there so he just grumbled and growled.

"He knows everything about you.  Everything about her.  You're both in serious dang–"

"Who knows?"

"What?"

WHO KNOWS ABOUT THE BOUNTY?!"

Tango used his Tango voice for that one.  Pussywhipped stayed silent for a second before Tango reached for her and grabbed her by the elbow.

"Pussywhipped!  Who knows?"

"At this point…  A lot of thugs know, Tango.  When Doomsayer took out all of the villains, there was no place for any of them to go.  Doomsayer offered high positions in his ranks for you two alive.  Or dead."

Tango then remembered the cell phone that one of the thugs that he took out earlier dropped.  Maybe it has something on it?


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


After a few hours of tense waiting, the atmosphere in the HQ changed subtly as Harlot paused in her work and glanced at the operating table.

Atomic Bat's eyes began to flicker. Her eyelids finally fluttered open, and she looked disoriented for a moment before focusing on Blue Tango.

"Tango? What happened?"

Blue Tango leaned in closer, relief evident in his eyes. "You were shot, AB. By a silver bullet. I didn't even know those things worked on vampires!"

Atomic Bat tried to prop herself up, wincing in pain. "Silver has its effects on various beings... Those thugs," she paused, narrowing her eyes at Tango, "Please tell me you didn't go too far in retaliation."

Tango gritted his teeth, frustration evident. "Too far? They tried to KILL you! What is 'too far' when dealing with people who have no regard for our lives?"

Atomic Bat sighed weakly, placing a hand on his arm. "Revenge isn't the answer, Tango. It never ends well. I've been around long enough to know that. And I don't want to see you lose yourself to that kind of darkness."

He scoffed and looked away.

"It's so easy for you, isn't it?" Tango's voice cracked with emotion. "So, what? They can just try to kill us, and all we do is arrest them? Not EVEN arrest them…  Tie them up for the police to show up and arrest them!  We just keep playing by some stupid code! You're stronger than any of them. You could have easily taken all those guys down before they had a chance to even draw their weapons. Why don't you use your FULL POWER and just eliminate these scum from the face of the Earth?"

Atomic Bat took a deep breath, trying to gather her strength. "It's not about what we can do, Tango. It's about what we should do.  Be strong enough to be gentle."

Tango took a deep breath, "Who decides what we should do then?  How about how far we can go?  We beat up thugs all the time and I put a little mustard on it and you bite my head off.  Why do you insist on following this code?"

Atomic Bat's expression softened, her eyes reflecting a distant past. "Because I've been there, Tango. I've been in your shoes, consumed by anger, revenge, and frustration with how I thought the world viewed me."

Tango raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Atomic Bat sighed, her eyes reflecting both pain and nostalgia. "You know, Ruby was more than a mentor to me. She was my anchor. Twice in my life, she saved me from a darkness that threatened to consume me."

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "The first time was during a particularly difficult phase in my career. I was suffering repeated defeats against Sarah Lacklan. With each loss, my confidence waned, and anger grew. I was spiraling, letting my frustration guide my actions both inside and outside the ring. It was Ruby who stepped in, reminding me of both my potential, and of who I truly was."

A faint smile played on her lips. "She taught me to channel that anger, to use it to better myself rather than let it destroy me. Without her, I might have given up. I might have lost myself."

Tango listened intently, seeing a vulnerable side of Atomic Bat he hadn't witnessed before.

She continued, "The second time was far more personal. Ruby was brutally attacked by Sidney Grey and Gina Van Zyl.”

“I recall.” Tango interjected.

AB continued. “They went beyond just defeating her in a match – they broke her leg and ended her career."

Tears threatened to form in Atomic Bat's eyes. "Seeing Ruby, a woman of immeasurable strength and resilience, lying in that hospital bed, broken… It made my blood boil. I wanted to make them pay. I wanted to unleash all my powers on them and make them suffer… Truth be told, I still want to…"

She looked down shamefully. "But Ruby, even as she laid there battered and broken by their hands… She pulled me out of that abyss. She told me that revenge wasn't the answer. That true strength isn't about how many enemies you can overpower but about the courage to do what's right, especially when every fiber of your being screams for vengeance."

Atomic Bat met Tango's gaze once again. "Ruby made me see that our battles against crime might be challenging, but their impact on the world is often minimal. It's our actions, our choices that inspire others. Our power lies in our ability to be symbols of hope, of courage. If we let our anger dictate our actions, if we become the very monsters we fight against, then we lose that power."

Tango sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. "Alright, AB. I'm still wrapping my head around this, but I get your perspective... If it means that much to you, I'll try to tone down my approach a bit..."

Atomic Bat placed her hand on Tango's cheek, drawing his attention back to her. "I know it's hard, especially when you hold such strength over your enemies. That’s why it takes true strength to not abuse that power... I can’t make the decision for you, I just want you to understand why I make the choices I do. Ruby's lessons live on in me. I won't betray her teachings, or her faith in me."


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


Perched on the edge of a mid-rise building, Atomic Bat kneels with one hand resting lightly on the concrete beneath her. The cool night breeze ruffles her cape, casting it out like a dark flag behind her. From her vantage point, she has a clear view of the city's maze of streets. It's clear she's been keeping a watchful eye.


Spotting the XWF CamBot hovering nearby, its soft LED lights blinking in acknowledgment of her presence, she offers a brief nod. Clearing her throat, she stands and begins to address it.

“So this is what it's come to, huh? LSM and HGH, a pair who can't even be bothered to answer pre-match obligations? Even for a championship match at the biggest show of the year!? Then on Anarchy, resorting to their cheap tactics and brainless Thugs to try and make an impact? Yeah, it’s clear 'The End' is still trying to figure out the beginning. Watching you two try and ‘lead a stable’, much less win a championship, is like watching toddlers trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle. Adorable, really, but in ‘The End’ you’re just making a mess.”

A sarcastic chuckle.

"You think you're clever with your ambush tactics? Like the one you two used to take out Bobbi and Maxine before your match last Anarchy? Anyone can attack from behind, slinking into the light from the shadows. But what do you do when there's no shadows for you to hide? The Blue Tango and I have seen it all, and it usually leads to the perp spending some time behind bars. So, what's your move when you're staring down the fierce determination of the XWF Tag Team Champions? When the spotlight shines bright on your deceptions, revealing them for the charades they truly are? Suddenly, those 'feared' antics of yours crumble, evaporating like mist in the morning sun. And all that's left? Just a couple of lost children, desperately scrambling for a semblance of strategy. It becomes painfully clear just how outmatched you are, especially when facing the combined might of the renowned superheroes– Atomic Bat and Blue Tango. We stand for truth, justice, and the XWF way. The two of you stand for nothing worth mentioning..."

She paused for a second, letting her words sink in.

“LSM, HGH, it's almost comical that you think you can step into our realm, into our ring, and even dream of challenging us for these titles. Your audacity is only matched by your sheer lack of understanding about what it takes to be champions in this industry. To be champions, one needs more than just a fleeting desire; one needs tenacity, strength, and above all, a backbone to stand tall, front and center, declaring your intentions with conviction. Neither of you have come close to accomplishing that tonight. The next generation of tag team wrestling? If that's what you truly believe, then the future looks bleak. You two as the representatives of this division? It's laughable! I've come across wet cardboard boxes with more resilience, integrity, and charisma than both of you combined."

"We've battled on every kind of turf, be it the squared circle or the gritty alleyways, facing foes more daunting than you could ever hope to be. Our unity isn't just about synchronized moves and fancy costumes. No, it's about a deep bond, a shared purpose. Meanwhile, you two seem to be perpetually lost, bumbling around, trying to decipher the basics of teamwork, let alone mastery."

And now, the Radio City Rumble has only solidified what I've long suspected – Mr. Nickels pulling the strings behind ‘The End’. It's almost poetic, given Charlie Nickels' knack for swiftly finding the finale of his own ventures. Well, he might have orchestrated the beginning of ‘The End’, but mark my words, we'll be the ones scripting its conclusion.”

“Blue Tango and I, together, have formed a dynamic duo that has been the beacon of hope and triumph in this division throughout the summer. We've faced numerous adversaries, and you two, well, you’re just the latest pair to underestimate our bond and our abilities. It's almost amusing, seeing teams like yours mistaking the challenges we've faced as vulnerabilities, circling like wannabe sharks. But you've misread the situation. Any perception of weakness or decline in this division isn’t because of its stalwarts, but because of fleeting teams who think they can skate by on bluster alone. And while such teams may occasionally find their way to the spotlight, it's never for long. History will remember the champions, the real fighters, the ones who stood tall and united. And when the annals of the XWF are written, Blue Tango and I will be celebrated as its shining stars, while teams like yours? I’m afraid you'll be nothing more than a brief mention, a forgotten footnote in the epic tale of our legacy.”

Blue Tango steps into frame and stands side by side with the Atomic Bat.

SUPERHERO POSE: ENGAGED!

"You know, AB, when I first heard LSM and HGH were stepping up to challenge us, I had to look them up, 'cause honestly? I didn't even remember who they were. It was easy to see why once I started digging into the video archives. LSM hadn't been active in a good long while. Some of the last notable footage of her was some vague desert escapade with Pappi Nickles. It played the same way it always does, with Charlie betraying her to get what he wants. Not surprising at all that happened. It happened again just last week at the Radio City Rumble. Some people never learn, I suppose."

"Then there's HGH? Man, at the start of the year, he was hailed as one of the top rising stars in the XWF. The guy managed to defeat Sidney Grey, capturing the Anarchy championship on the very same night she went on to seize the Universal championship. But then, in May? Haha, oh man, EDWARD chucked him from a tree, and that poor guy has been in freefall ever since. Going through the tapes was like watching a shooting star suddenly fizzle out and plummet to the ground."

Atomic Bat steps closer, her posture firm and her gaze unwavering. "Well said, Tango. These two hardly make a team, barely qualify as championship competition, and as for their chances against us? Let's just say their odds of coming out of this match as the NEW Tag Team Champions are about as strong as a candle's flame standing up to a hurricane!"

"Citizens of the XWF Universe, what you are about to witness is nothing short of poetic justice. Just as villains on the streets crumble before the mighty fist of justice, so too will LSM and HGH realize their folly when they step into that ring with the heroes of your dreams and the champions of your hearts!"

Blue Tango and Atomic Bat exchange a knowing glance and extend their hands towards each other, their fingers interlocking in a firm handshake that signifies their unity and unwavering commitment to their cause.

Their voices, harmoniously united, declare with unwavering confidence, "Together, we stand. For truth, for justice, for the XWF, for each and every one of you. Remember, when darkness looms, Atomic Bat and Blue Tango will always shine through!"


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


Amid the rustling of wind atop the Grand City PD's rooftop, the moonlight painted a silver trail as Atomic Bat descended from the sky. Her flowing cape danced gently in the night's embrace as she landed with grace right across from Commissioner Jim Jordan.


"Evening, Commissioner," her voice wavered but only slightly.

Jim observed her, taking in every nuance, as a good cop would. “No company tonight?”

She hesitated, "No perps to deliver. Just... wanted to talk."

Jim’s brow furrowed. "About those brutal busts?"

Atomic Bat inhaled deeply. "I've been investigating, Jim."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward, “And?”

She hesitated, fighting a battle within, "The situation... is being handled. It won't happen again."

Jim eyed her, trying to peer into the depths of her soul. "Not good enough! Who are you protecting?"

She shook her head, "... I'd rather not say. But please, trust me when I tell you, it's resolved."

Jim sighed, resting his hand on the railing, “I told you... These are violent, brutal attacks. I need to know who's responsible. They need to be to justice for what they’ve done!"

She stepped closer, voice barely more than a whisper, “Jim, there are some things better left alone. All you need to know is that it’s been taken care of.”

A tense silence hovered between them.

Atomic Bat, with eyes glistening with determination and a hint of sadness, “Trust me, Jim. It’s handled. It won’t happen again... You have my word.”

Jim looked away momentarily, gathering himself. When he finally spoke, it was with a mixture of trust and resignation. “Alright, Atomic Bat. I’ll take your word for it. Just... be careful who you're protecting... Because if the beatings resume, I'll have no choice but to bring you in."

She offered a soft, reassuring smile. "Understood, Commissioner."

As she gracefully ascended, her cape catching the night’s sky once more, Jim watched her vanish into the vast darkness, hoping that the trust he placed in her was not misplaced.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing..."]]>

[Image: Saint-Boniface-transformed.jpg]
Saint Boniface Hospital - 02/10/2023

The hospital room was silent, other than the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. The sterile smell of disinfectants lingered through the air, and the soft glow from the bedside lamp cast a dim light over the room.

Ruby Debuchy, known to the world as the high-flying superhero RUBY, lay in the hospital bed. A cast covered her leg, and a series of bruises were visible on her arms and face, grim reminders of Sidney Grey and Gina Van Zyls vicious attack that had sidelined her from the sport she loved so dearly.

Vita Valenteen sat in a bedside chair, her face etched with worry. She had always looked up to Ruby, both as a mentor and as a beacon of hope. The two had shared countless hours in the ring, training together, and forging a bond stronger than many could understand. While the world saw the heroic 'Banana-Lime Blur' from the rings of Anarchy, Vita saw more than that. She looked to Ruby as a pillar of strength, resilience, and inspiration.

Ruby's eyes fluttered open, momentarily disoriented, then focused on Vita. A weak smile formed on her lips, "V...? What are you doing here?"

Vita's voice choked with emotion, "I had to see you, Rubes. After what happened... I just had to make sure you were okay."

Ruby leaned back, looking at the city's skyline, "There's something mesmerizing about this view, isn't there?"

Vita glanced at the window, noticing the myriad of lights that twinkled in the distance. "Yeah, it's beautiful," she murmured, "but not as beautiful as seeing you up and talking."

Ruby's face grew somber. "Sidney's always played dirty, but this... it's beyond anything I thought she'd do."

Vita clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "She won't get away with this, Ruby. I'll make sure of it."

Ruby reached out, placing a gentle hand on Vita's clenched fist, urging her to relax. "V, revenge isn't the answer. We're in this for the love of the sport, for the rush of the ring, and the connection with the crowd. Don't ever lose sight of that."

Vita sighed, trying to hold back her tears. "But seeing you like this? It's hard, Rubes. And knowing that Sidney Grey’s just going to get away with it…"

Ruby took a deep breath, her gaze shifted back to the skyline. "Do you remember, V, the first time you joined me on a mission?"

Vita's brow furrowed, searching her memories. "You mean the docks? That arms deal?"

Ruby nodded. "Exactly. You were so... spirited. You burst into that scene with the fury of a raging tempest. I had never seen anyone so bold, so fearless. But it was reckless, too. We almost didn't make it out that night."

Vita smirked, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, in my defense, I did save you from that thug with the knife."

Ruby chuckled. "True, but you nearly got yourself shot in the process. You've always been all heart, V. But that night, I saw something else. Something I couldn't quite place."

Vita stiffened, her defenses rising. "What do you mean?"

Ruby's expression softened. "There's darkness in you, Vita. Even before you were turned, I could see it. An abyss that threatened to consume you if given the chance. It's what makes you fierce in the ring and loyal to a fault. But it's also a danger."

Tears welled up in Vita's eyes. "You think I'm a monster..."

Ruby reached out, cradling Vita's face in her hands. "No, V. I think you're incredibly human. Your emotions, your passions, they burn brighter than most. And that's what makes you extraordinary. But it also makes you vulnerable. Especially now."

Vita looked away. "The thirst, the hunger... it's always there, lurking in the background."

"I know," Ruby whispered. "But you can't let that darkness take over. Especially not for revenge. It's a path that only leads to more pain, more suffering."

Vita's voice trembled. "But Sidney—"

"Forget Sidney," Ruby interrupted, her voice firm. "She'll get what's coming to her. Karma has a way of balancing things out. But you can't lose yourself in the process. You're too important to me, to the world."

Vita's eyes searched Ruby's. "I just... I want to make things right."

Ruby smiled sadly. "I know you do. But the best way to do that is by being the hero I know you are. By showing the world that no matter how dark things get, there's always a light."

Vita closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. As the air in the room seemed to thicken. Finally, she opened her eyes again and met Ruby's.

"You've never asked me for anything, Ruby," Vita said softly, "and we've been through so much together. I've always admired your courage, your convictions. If you believe in karma, in the balance of things, then maybe it's time I tried believing in it too."

Ruby's eyes twinkled, mimicking the city skyline behind her. "You won't regret it, V. Sometimes the best way to win a fight is to rise above it, to show that you're better, stronger. The universe has a way of recognizing that."

Vita felt a sense of warmth spread through her, despite her typical cold vampiric nature.

"I'll try," Vita promised, "for you, for us, and for whatever's left of my own humanity."

Ruby reached for Vita's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "And for the love of the sport, the thrill of the ring, and the joy of bringing hope to those who need it. That's what heroes do, V."

Vita nodded, her eyes welling up again, but this time with a mixture of gratitude and resolution. "I won't forget that, Rubes. And the next time I step into that ring, (or into the night!) I'll carry this moment with me. As a reminder of who I can be– of who should be!"

Ruby grinned, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "In the darkest nights, remember this moment, V. It's our light, our beacon. It's what heroes are made of."


[Image: Grand-City.jpg]

Grand City - Present Day

It was the kind of night that kept Grand City’s underbelly active.

The moon, half concealed by threatening clouds, painted the city in shades of silver and gray.

Down one of its notorious alleys, a fight was already underway.

The rain soaked streets provided a grimy backdrop as Batarangs sliced through the darkness incapacitating two goons before they even knew what hit them.

Atomic Bat spun through the air, her dark cape flowing behind her.

A hint of a smirk played on her lips as she landed gracefully, her boots making a light thud on the wet pavement.

"Is that all you've got?" She taunted, her eyes scanning the motley crew of thugs surrounding her. "You’re gonna need more than switchblades and pipe wrenches to take me down, so how about everyone just put down their weapons and come peacefully?"

A thug lunged at her from the side, swinging a rusty chain. With a fluid motion, AB deflected the attack, grabbed the chain, and yanked it from the thug's grasp, sending him sprawling onto the pavement.

"Don't lose your grip now," she quipped, twirling the chain and tossing it aside.

Another thug charged, his fist clenched around a knife. AB danced to the side, spinning around him and delivering a sharp kick to his back, propelling him into a stack of old crates.

"Knives to a superhero fight? How passé," she mused, her eyes never leaving her adversaries.

Yet, the numbers were against her. She could sense her energy beginning to wane as more and more thugs continued to join the fray.

From the shadows, a masked thug observed her every move. He went unnoticed as he silently withdrew a revolver from his coat pocket.

"You've got spirit, Bat, I'll give you that!" One of the thugs sneered as he swung a lead pipe towards her head. "But spirit won't save you now!"

AB deflected the pipe with her forearm as her eyes narrowed. "It's not the spirit of the bat that should worry you... It's the fangs!"

Just as she turned to deliver a devastating counter, a loud BANG shot through the air, and a searing pain exploded in her chest.

A bullet had found its mark.

Gasping, her eyes widened in shock as her hand instinctively went to the wound. When she pulled her hand away, her glove was stained with her own blood.  The bullet sizzled and burned in her chest, causing her agonizing pain.

"S..sssilver!?" She rasped, staggering back. Her eyes darted around, settling on the masked thug smirking from the shadows with his smoking gun still aimed in her direction.

She dropped to her knees as her vision began to blur. The thugs closed in on her, jeering and laughing.

Everything was beginning to darken, but a thought crossed Atomic Bat's mind. 

Why would these random thugs have silver bullets? Her true identity, her vampiric nature, was something she had kept hidden from the world.

No one knew her secret.

She caught her breath and tried to make sense of the situation.

The idea of these average street criminals knowing her true nature seemed far fetched. She had always been careful, always kept her distance and her identity a secret. It must have been just a vain attempt at luxury from a gangster with more money than sense.

Still, it left her wounded and vulnerable in the heart of the city she loved as the gang converged on her, their victory certain.

However, from the shadows, a new figure emerged.

It was the Blue Tango!

"HEY!"

All of the thugs turned their attention away from AB and towards Tango.  He stood, pointing at the thugs with his chest puffed out and cape flailing behind him in the wind.  A small smirk was stretched across his face.

"That's my bread and butter you're screwing with!"

He took a large step forward and…

Superhero Pose:...




...he tightens up his stance!




ENGAGED!

With lightning-like speed, he dispatched two of the thugs with swift kicks before they even knew what hit them.

Atomic Bat managed a strained smile. "Took you long enough," she whispered, dropping heavily onto the wet pavement.

Blue Tango's expression darkened, an aura of fury radiating from him. With swift, ruthless precision, he tore into the thugs. His fists weren't just to disarm, they aimed to incapacitate, if not decapitate,  and cause real pain. Bones cracked and groans of agony echoed in the alley as Blue Tango unleashed a brutality that left his foes writhing in pain on the ground.

The last thug, masked and desperate, aimed a silver revolver at Blue Tango. "I wouldn't if I were you," Blue Tango growled.

Before the thug could react, Atomic Bat, summoning her remaining strength, hurled a batarang. The weapon hit its mark, dislodging the gun from the thug's grasp.

As it clattered away, Blue Tango advanced on the masked thug, his intent clear in his eyes. The thug tried to put up a fight, but Blue Tango was relentless. A vicious punch to the gut, a brutal kick to the knee that bent it sideways — the masked thug crumpled, gasping and broken.  Barely able to hold himself to one knee, they cried out in pain as Tango grabbed them by the shirt collar to hold them up.  He pulled back a fist and cracked the thug square in the nose, disintegrating it in the man's face. Tango held them long enough to watch the man's eyes roll to the back of their head before carelessly dropping them.

As the thug hit the ground, a cell phone dropped from their pocket.  Tango went to step away, but something told him to pick it up, so he did.  Without wasting another moment, Blue Tango hurried to Atomic Bat's side, his fury replaced by concern. "Stay with me, AB," he called out, cradling her carefully in his arms.

She managed a weak nod, her eyes meeting his for a moment before finally closing. Her body went slack in his arms as she lost consciousness.


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


Back at HQ, Harlot was intently working on the Atomic Bat, stitching the ghastly wound left by a silver bullet.  AB was still out of it, lying unconscious on a makeshift operating table they had for such as emergencies.  Instead of Tango's usual erratic and upset demeanor he was surprisingly as cool as a cucumber.  It's been seen how this recent change to his body has improved his fighting ability and physicality…  and aggressiveness…  He paced around the table looking focused and determined.  Harlot stopped sewing and sighed…

Breaking the tense silence, Harlot looked up. "Tango, your pacing won't speed up her recovery. And you're making it really hard for me to concentrate!"

Halting abruptly, Tango rested his hands on his hips.

"Sorry!  I'm just…  FUMING, Harlot!  I swear, I'm going to track down EVERY thug in this city and make them pay!"  The Blue Tango pulled up a fist and showed it to Harlot who rolled her eyes and went back to work.

Harlot, trying to de-escalate the situation, advised, "You need to step back, breathe, and regroup. Impulsiveness won't help anyone right now."

Tango's frustration was evident. "More waiting around…  It seems like all we're ever doing is waiting around…  Coming up with a plan…  Covering every basis and every scenario, but why?  Why bother when the plan never goes the way it's supposed to?  Why think up every possible scenario because when we do, it changes!"

Harlot didn't meet his gaze, focusing on her delicate task.

"Like that there!  I thought AB was bulletproof?  Or something?"

"It's odd that those thugs had silver bullets loaded in their guns. They're not exactly standard issue."

"Silver… bullets?  I thought that was werewolves?"  *GASP!*  "Is AB a werewolf, too?"

"No, silly.  Silver works on werewolves AND vamps…  OBVIOUSLY! Haven't you ever seen Blade!?"

"Huh.."  Tango bit his lip and cocked an eyebrow in concern.  "She gonna be okay?"

With a reassuring nod, Harlot responded, "She will. The silver did its damage, searing her from the inside. But now that it's outta there she'll heal up quick enough.  That's an advantage of being what she is."

Tango stared at the picture painted before him.  He started to feel nauseous and a cold bead of sweat trickled down the side of his head, so he headed towards the door.

"I'm gonna go get some air, I think.  You good?"

Harlot didn't look up, she just kept working on AB.  Tango sighed and went out the door and to the roof.  He paced around in a circle and stretched out his arms, taking in the cool night air.

"I can't believe this.  We're less than a week away from defending the XWF Tag Team Titles at Relentless, the grandest show in the universe, and AB has to go and get herself shot.  And she worries about me going out on my own?  Before maybe, but right now, I think I'm even stronger than she is…  If she lets me!"

Tango started to breath heavily and angrily through his nose, riling himself up.

"'Get the bad guys' should have one threshold, 'Get-the-bad-guys'.  Plain and simple.  If they end up with bloody noses or need surgery on their legs, big deal!  It's not like I'm going on murder sprees, for crying out loud.  I lay down the law and don't need zip ties when I'm done.  I show a few punks who's boss and our partnership, heck, our very friendship barely hangs on by a thread…"

Frustrated, Tango took a seat on the roof and lied back on the cold concrete looking up to the cloudy, starless night sky.  He took a couple of deep breaths and sprawled out into a quick YOGA pose before lying back again.

"She's a freaking vampire, she'll be fine.  Harlot pulled that bullet out no problem, she'll heal up ten times faster than us humans and be on her feet long before our match.  It feels like it's already in the bag, so maybe I'll handle the heavy lifting and we can get out of there before all the good restaurants close.  I'm not sure when that would be in a place like Hades, but it never hurts to play it safe."

"I have to admit, it's a total bummer that we're representing one of the greatest championships in the universe, the XWF Tag Team Championship, and defending them night one on the grandest of stages, only to be kinda blown off by our opposition.  Not saying they're not going to show up to the match, but usually you hear a thing or two from them leading up to the thing, ya know?  Oh well.  Maybe they have nothing to say or know something that we don't…  In my eyes, it's the next and probably worst thrown together team we've had to date.  LSM and HGH looked like absolute crap on Anarchy going up against two teams of that AB and I would rip apart…  AHEM…  I mean, 'BEAT'.  We'd win the same as we have against any team that's crossed us since we've won these straps and any team that dares to cross us again.  'The End' have ZERO chemistry in or, heck, even out of the ring.  Like, no teamwork in the match…  I mean, sure, it was Tornado Rules and all, and so is this, but still…  They just attacked without thinking and just tried beating their opponents down with no real strategy going in except for the one at the start.  In my eyes, if they thought that much ahead to get the upper-hand against two teams that probably aren't going to make it two weeks, then this is going to be a cake-walk.  Easy Street.  Chalk-up another title defense win, baby, we're going to DisneyLand!"

Tango leaned up and laughed to himself.  "It's true though, not the DisneyLand part, probably, but the win."

"After that display, win or not, LSM and HGH have no business in a Tag Team Title match at Anarchy, Warfare, or, especially, freaking Relentless and it's going to show.  If we don't embarrass them to the point that they're just straight up banned from tag team competition going forward, I'll look at that as a failure.  Underhanded tactics and ambushes are something we specialize against and they've already proven that they're not just garbage in the ring, but garbage humans, too.  What we've got here is just another couple of simple baddies that the Blue Tango and Atomic Bat have to…  neutralize.  I'd rather say punish, but for AB's sake…  Maybe I can start holding back a little."

"What.  A.  Dilemma..."

Tango nearly jumped out of his skin and turned around to the voice behind him!  From the shadows out walked Pussywhipped.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough…"

[Image: UMfQloL.png]

Tango was still running on high from all the adrenaline from earlier, plus the new natural high that he lives now.  They stood facing each other for a few seconds.  Pussywhipped looked at him with intrigue.

"What brings you out so late at night?"

"I can't stop by for a visit?"  Pussywhipped purrs with her familiar sultry cadence.

"I never said that."

"Is your friend okay?"

"I think so.  Harlot knows hella first aid and AB's tough anyway."

"Tango, there's a bounty out for you…  and the Atomic Bat."

His eyes widened in disbelief, searching hers for any sign of deception. "A bounty?!  For what?!"

"From Doomsayer.  You're the last two heroes alive and he wants you… taken care of."

Tango tightened his fists and looked for something to punch, but there was nothing there so he just grumbled and growled.

"He knows everything about you.  Everything about her.  You're both in serious dang–"

"Who knows?"

"What?"

WHO KNOWS ABOUT THE BOUNTY?!"

Tango used his Tango voice for that one.  Pussywhipped stayed silent for a second before Tango reached for her and grabbed her by the elbow.

"Pussywhipped!  Who knows?"

"At this point…  A lot of thugs know, Tango.  When Doomsayer took out all of the villains, there was no place for any of them to go.  Doomsayer offered high positions in his ranks for you two alive.  Or dead."

Tango then remembered the cell phone that one of the thugs that he took out earlier dropped.  Maybe it has something on it?


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


After a few hours of tense waiting, the atmosphere in the HQ changed subtly as Harlot paused in her work and glanced at the operating table.

Atomic Bat's eyes began to flicker. Her eyelids finally fluttered open, and she looked disoriented for a moment before focusing on Blue Tango.

"Tango? What happened?"

Blue Tango leaned in closer, relief evident in his eyes. "You were shot, AB. By a silver bullet. I didn't even know those things worked on vampires!"

Atomic Bat tried to prop herself up, wincing in pain. "Silver has its effects on various beings... Those thugs," she paused, narrowing her eyes at Tango, "Please tell me you didn't go too far in retaliation."

Tango gritted his teeth, frustration evident. "Too far? They tried to KILL you! What is 'too far' when dealing with people who have no regard for our lives?"

Atomic Bat sighed weakly, placing a hand on his arm. "Revenge isn't the answer, Tango. It never ends well. I've been around long enough to know that. And I don't want to see you lose yourself to that kind of darkness."

He scoffed and looked away.

"It's so easy for you, isn't it?" Tango's voice cracked with emotion. "So, what? They can just try to kill us, and all we do is arrest them? Not EVEN arrest them…  Tie them up for the police to show up and arrest them!  We just keep playing by some stupid code! You're stronger than any of them. You could have easily taken all those guys down before they had a chance to even draw their weapons. Why don't you use your FULL POWER and just eliminate these scum from the face of the Earth?"

Atomic Bat took a deep breath, trying to gather her strength. "It's not about what we can do, Tango. It's about what we should do.  Be strong enough to be gentle."

Tango took a deep breath, "Who decides what we should do then?  How about how far we can go?  We beat up thugs all the time and I put a little mustard on it and you bite my head off.  Why do you insist on following this code?"

Atomic Bat's expression softened, her eyes reflecting a distant past. "Because I've been there, Tango. I've been in your shoes, consumed by anger, revenge, and frustration with how I thought the world viewed me."

Tango raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Atomic Bat sighed, her eyes reflecting both pain and nostalgia. "You know, Ruby was more than a mentor to me. She was my anchor. Twice in my life, she saved me from a darkness that threatened to consume me."

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "The first time was during a particularly difficult phase in my career. I was suffering repeated defeats against Sarah Lacklan. With each loss, my confidence waned, and anger grew. I was spiraling, letting my frustration guide my actions both inside and outside the ring. It was Ruby who stepped in, reminding me of both my potential, and of who I truly was."

A faint smile played on her lips. "She taught me to channel that anger, to use it to better myself rather than let it destroy me. Without her, I might have given up. I might have lost myself."

Tango listened intently, seeing a vulnerable side of Atomic Bat he hadn't witnessed before.

She continued, "The second time was far more personal. Ruby was brutally attacked by Sidney Grey and Gina Van Zyl.”

“I recall.” Tango interjected.

AB continued. “They went beyond just defeating her in a match – they broke her leg and ended her career."

Tears threatened to form in Atomic Bat's eyes. "Seeing Ruby, a woman of immeasurable strength and resilience, lying in that hospital bed, broken… It made my blood boil. I wanted to make them pay. I wanted to unleash all my powers on them and make them suffer… Truth be told, I still want to…"

She looked down shamefully. "But Ruby, even as she laid there battered and broken by their hands… She pulled me out of that abyss. She told me that revenge wasn't the answer. That true strength isn't about how many enemies you can overpower but about the courage to do what's right, especially when every fiber of your being screams for vengeance."

Atomic Bat met Tango's gaze once again. "Ruby made me see that our battles against crime might be challenging, but their impact on the world is often minimal. It's our actions, our choices that inspire others. Our power lies in our ability to be symbols of hope, of courage. If we let our anger dictate our actions, if we become the very monsters we fight against, then we lose that power."

Tango sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. "Alright, AB. I'm still wrapping my head around this, but I get your perspective... If it means that much to you, I'll try to tone down my approach a bit..."

Atomic Bat placed her hand on Tango's cheek, drawing his attention back to her. "I know it's hard, especially when you hold such strength over your enemies. That’s why it takes true strength to not abuse that power... I can’t make the decision for you, I just want you to understand why I make the choices I do. Ruby's lessons live on in me. I won't betray her teachings, or her faith in me."


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


Perched on the edge of a mid-rise building, Atomic Bat kneels with one hand resting lightly on the concrete beneath her. The cool night breeze ruffles her cape, casting it out like a dark flag behind her. From her vantage point, she has a clear view of the city's maze of streets. It's clear she's been keeping a watchful eye.


Spotting the XWF CamBot hovering nearby, its soft LED lights blinking in acknowledgment of her presence, she offers a brief nod. Clearing her throat, she stands and begins to address it.

“So this is what it's come to, huh? LSM and HGH, a pair who can't even be bothered to answer pre-match obligations? Even for a championship match at the biggest show of the year!? Then on Anarchy, resorting to their cheap tactics and brainless Thugs to try and make an impact? Yeah, it’s clear 'The End' is still trying to figure out the beginning. Watching you two try and ‘lead a stable’, much less win a championship, is like watching toddlers trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle. Adorable, really, but in ‘The End’ you’re just making a mess.”

A sarcastic chuckle.

"You think you're clever with your ambush tactics? Like the one you two used to take out Bobbi and Maxine before your match last Anarchy? Anyone can attack from behind, slinking into the light from the shadows. But what do you do when there's no shadows for you to hide? The Blue Tango and I have seen it all, and it usually leads to the perp spending some time behind bars. So, what's your move when you're staring down the fierce determination of the XWF Tag Team Champions? When the spotlight shines bright on your deceptions, revealing them for the charades they truly are? Suddenly, those 'feared' antics of yours crumble, evaporating like mist in the morning sun. And all that's left? Just a couple of lost children, desperately scrambling for a semblance of strategy. It becomes painfully clear just how outmatched you are, especially when facing the combined might of the renowned superheroes– Atomic Bat and Blue Tango. We stand for truth, justice, and the XWF way. The two of you stand for nothing worth mentioning..."

She paused for a second, letting her words sink in.

“LSM, HGH, it's almost comical that you think you can step into our realm, into our ring, and even dream of challenging us for these titles. Your audacity is only matched by your sheer lack of understanding about what it takes to be champions in this industry. To be champions, one needs more than just a fleeting desire; one needs tenacity, strength, and above all, a backbone to stand tall, front and center, declaring your intentions with conviction. Neither of you have come close to accomplishing that tonight. The next generation of tag team wrestling? If that's what you truly believe, then the future looks bleak. You two as the representatives of this division? It's laughable! I've come across wet cardboard boxes with more resilience, integrity, and charisma than both of you combined."

"We've battled on every kind of turf, be it the squared circle or the gritty alleyways, facing foes more daunting than you could ever hope to be. Our unity isn't just about synchronized moves and fancy costumes. No, it's about a deep bond, a shared purpose. Meanwhile, you two seem to be perpetually lost, bumbling around, trying to decipher the basics of teamwork, let alone mastery."

And now, the Radio City Rumble has only solidified what I've long suspected – Mr. Nickels pulling the strings behind ‘The End’. It's almost poetic, given Charlie Nickels' knack for swiftly finding the finale of his own ventures. Well, he might have orchestrated the beginning of ‘The End’, but mark my words, we'll be the ones scripting its conclusion.”

“Blue Tango and I, together, have formed a dynamic duo that has been the beacon of hope and triumph in this division throughout the summer. We've faced numerous adversaries, and you two, well, you’re just the latest pair to underestimate our bond and our abilities. It's almost amusing, seeing teams like yours mistaking the challenges we've faced as vulnerabilities, circling like wannabe sharks. But you've misread the situation. Any perception of weakness or decline in this division isn’t because of its stalwarts, but because of fleeting teams who think they can skate by on bluster alone. And while such teams may occasionally find their way to the spotlight, it's never for long. History will remember the champions, the real fighters, the ones who stood tall and united. And when the annals of the XWF are written, Blue Tango and I will be celebrated as its shining stars, while teams like yours? I’m afraid you'll be nothing more than a brief mention, a forgotten footnote in the epic tale of our legacy.”

Blue Tango steps into frame and stands side by side with the Atomic Bat.

SUPERHERO POSE: ENGAGED!

"You know, AB, when I first heard LSM and HGH were stepping up to challenge us, I had to look them up, 'cause honestly? I didn't even remember who they were. It was easy to see why once I started digging into the video archives. LSM hadn't been active in a good long while. Some of the last notable footage of her was some vague desert escapade with Pappi Nickles. It played the same way it always does, with Charlie betraying her to get what he wants. Not surprising at all that happened. It happened again just last week at the Radio City Rumble. Some people never learn, I suppose."

"Then there's HGH? Man, at the start of the year, he was hailed as one of the top rising stars in the XWF. The guy managed to defeat Sidney Grey, capturing the Anarchy championship on the very same night she went on to seize the Universal championship. But then, in May? Haha, oh man, EDWARD chucked him from a tree, and that poor guy has been in freefall ever since. Going through the tapes was like watching a shooting star suddenly fizzle out and plummet to the ground."

Atomic Bat steps closer, her posture firm and her gaze unwavering. "Well said, Tango. These two hardly make a team, barely qualify as championship competition, and as for their chances against us? Let's just say their odds of coming out of this match as the NEW Tag Team Champions are about as strong as a candle's flame standing up to a hurricane!"

"Citizens of the XWF Universe, what you are about to witness is nothing short of poetic justice. Just as villains on the streets crumble before the mighty fist of justice, so too will LSM and HGH realize their folly when they step into that ring with the heroes of your dreams and the champions of your hearts!"

Blue Tango and Atomic Bat exchange a knowing glance and extend their hands towards each other, their fingers interlocking in a firm handshake that signifies their unity and unwavering commitment to their cause.

Their voices, harmoniously united, declare with unwavering confidence, "Together, we stand. For truth, for justice, for the XWF, for each and every one of you. Remember, when darkness looms, Atomic Bat and Blue Tango will always shine through!"


[Image: SCENETRANSITION.gif]


Amid the rustling of wind atop the Grand City PD's rooftop, the moonlight painted a silver trail as Atomic Bat descended from the sky. Her flowing cape danced gently in the night's embrace as she landed with grace right across from Commissioner Jim Jordan.


"Evening, Commissioner," her voice wavered but only slightly.

Jim observed her, taking in every nuance, as a good cop would. “No company tonight?”

She hesitated, "No perps to deliver. Just... wanted to talk."

Jim’s brow furrowed. "About those brutal busts?"

Atomic Bat inhaled deeply. "I've been investigating, Jim."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward, “And?”

She hesitated, fighting a battle within, "The situation... is being handled. It won't happen again."

Jim eyed her, trying to peer into the depths of her soul. "Not good enough! Who are you protecting?"

She shook her head, "... I'd rather not say. But please, trust me when I tell you, it's resolved."

Jim sighed, resting his hand on the railing, “I told you... These are violent, brutal attacks. I need to know who's responsible. They need to be to justice for what they’ve done!"

She stepped closer, voice barely more than a whisper, “Jim, there are some things better left alone. All you need to know is that it’s been taken care of.”

A tense silence hovered between them.

Atomic Bat, with eyes glistening with determination and a hint of sadness, “Trust me, Jim. It’s handled. It won’t happen again... You have my word.”

Jim looked away momentarily, gathering himself. When he finally spoke, it was with a mixture of trust and resignation. “Alright, Atomic Bat. I’ll take your word for it. Just... be careful who you're protecting... Because if the beatings resume, I'll have no choice but to bring you in."

She offered a soft, reassuring smile. "Understood, Commissioner."

As she gracefully ascended, her cape catching the night’s sky once more, Jim watched her vanish into the vast darkness, hoping that the trust he placed in her was not misplaced.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing..."]]> <![CDATA[Dolly Waters and Bulk Logan - You are both guilty]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46896 Thu, 21 Sep 2023 00:49:59 -0700 VictorTheJudgeMental]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46896 I WANT SILENCE IN MY COURTROOM
THE COURT OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL

IS NOW IN SESSION.

I REPEAT ORDER IN MY COURTROOM


Our goal was to get to Hades, which is of course where Night 1 of Relentless was to take place.  Whoever chooses places like these must be disturbed.     

Mastermind and I both have matches on Night 1, so I flew with him to Italy which they say is one of the entrances to the underworld, and that place is called. Cumae.

Of course, the other 3 members of the Misfits, Kris the Hammer Vonn Bonn, Melanie 'Crayzee' Childs, and Scarlet the Huntress, along with so-called manager Antony the Jerk, had to come along.  According to Mastermind, they were there to help begin some much-needed chaos.

I could do my own chaos, because I am a judge after all, but now I was part of a stable, i had to go by what Stable Management wanted.  So if new chaos was about to be introduced to the XWF, then so be it.

I saw Mastermind up front in the cock pit of his own private jet, which is unusual, because according to the others he never visited the cockpit, so I decided to join in on the conversation.

MASTERMIND: "So we land in Bacoli, and head to Cuma?"

PILOT: "Yes sir, that's the only way to get there,"

"What's going on?"

MASTERMIND: "The only way to get to Hades is through Cuma, and the only way to do that is to land in Bacoli,"

"We can't go any other way?"

CO-PILOT: "No sir, from what we've been told along with other flights with taking you guys to Relentless this is the only way,"

MASTERMIND: "So we are all going to have to go in by foot?"

PILOT: "Yes, affirmative sir,"

MASTERMIND: "So if I was to hire a helicopter it wouldn't do the trick,"

PILOT: "Negative sir, you'll miss the window by even going in a helicopter.  Cuma is a special spot,"

"Looks like we are having to use our feet,"

MASTERMIND: "Yes Victor, it certainly looks like that,"


"And if we have to, everyone else has to, to,"

MASTERMIND: "I'm glad you are seeing the big picture, but I hate the big picture,"

"It's the only way to keep an open mind, and I need to focus on Bulk Logan and Dolly Waters,"

MASTERMIND: "I wouldn't worry about them, you are way stronger than those two are, and I was really impressed with how you came across in your first promo last week, not that you need any gratification from me, or would want one,"

"Exactly sir, I agree, but thank you anyway.  I take my first match as a member of the Misfits very seriously.  I can do this.  I will do this."


PILOT: "Better go back to your seats gentlemen, we'll be landing in Bacoli very soon,"

I saw Mastermind tap the pilot on his shoulder, and then I made my way back to my seat and saw Mastermind return to his special area.


Quote:If 3 people know a secret, the only way to keep it a secret, is if 2 are dead

- Benjamin Franklin


TEMPORARY COURTROOM OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL
BACOLI, ITALY

A temporary courtroom had been set up for Victor The Judge Mental before he joined Mastermind on his departure for Cuma.  The XWF cameras fade into the courtroom to show only his clerk, Jason Robertson, ready to get things going.

"Preparing the courtroom for Docket Number 001 part 2.  Triple Threat Match at Relentless Night 1.  Between his honor Victor The Judge Mental, Dolly Waters, and Bulk Logan.  Please welcome The Honorable Victor the Judge Mental."

The door to the temporary courtroom opened and in walked Victor, and as he made his way to his desk he took the file from Jason, and then sat down at his desk, and studied it for a few minutes.  He was completely drawing out the atmosphere.

"The details of Docket Number 001 Part 2 are very clear and concise, and compressible.  I said it last week and I'll emphasize it again today, we have two parties who truly do not deserve to be in my debut match coming up, on Night 1 of Relentless.  It's very much of a shame that the powers that be put me in such a match.

"So let's start with Accused #1: Dolly Waters,"

A photograph of Dolly appeared on the screen.

[Image: 1528984473_maxresdefault.jpg]

"Why so glum Ms Waters?  Is it because you haven't got anything to say?  We haven't heard from you all these last two weeks.    I find you GUILTY of wasting our time.

"Or is it because nothing is going your way at the moment?  Our other opponent who I should get to soon, has crossed the line, I won't cross the line, because we all know what a coward you are Ms Waters.  You may put out a weak promo towards the very end of the time limit, and we all know that you wanted to do that all along.    So I find you GUILTY x2 of being disloyal to the Pay Per View, to the XWF Management, and to the XWF Fans themselves for wanting to see a great match.

"Our other opponent may have crossed you out of the match.  I won't do that.  Because I have you dead to rights.    And you know I do.  Ms Waters.

"You've been craving attention these past few months Ms Waters.  I will certainly give it to you, and that means you are going to be found Guilty of all charges that I have put before the court.

"Now let's get on to someone who can't seem to stay out of the spotlight who I feel should really think about staying out of the spotlight because it's doing him more harm than good, and that is Accused #2: Bulk Logan.

"I will stick with one of my earlier guilty verdicts of him being guilty of lying because that's what he is best at.  He told us that he had been a member of the XWF 10 years or so back, I told him I found the proof that he didn't and all he could come back with was that he didn't mention it was the XWF but some other wrestling company.    Bulk that is still lying.  And that you were a champion of that company.  I find that hard to fathom.  Somehow I do.  Because of all the lies you blurt out of your fat mouth.

"You will not be a champion in the XWF if I have something to do with it.  You have not won one yet, neither have I but I am in a stable where my stable leader, Mastermind has won the X-treme Title, the Television title, and the Anarchy title, he's a 3-time former champion.  And my other stable mate Kris the Hammer Von Bonn was briefly a X-treme Champion.  That's entirely another story saved for another time, and the person responsible for taking it away from him will get his just deserts.  Just watch.

"Anyway, back to you web of lies web of mistrust, and web of unknowledgeable outcomes.  You say you have photos of yourself as a youngster as a young Terry Bollea, and you showed them to us.  Well, I have some more photos to twist your story into the afterlife that we are about to enter, Haides.

"Let's start with Exhibit A,"

A young photograph of the real Terry Bollea popped up on the screen.

[Image: rs-21293-27621216-27621217-large.jpg?w=464]

"Exhibit B,"

Another photo of the real Terry Bollea popped up.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS7Ng0J1b4qcia9DvjPjYu...0&usqp=CAU]

"Exhibit C,"

A much older photo of Terry Bollea popped up.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTLb8NpiRxCD9W7Fxuj1pL...k&usqp=CAU]

"Need I say anymore?  This is the imposter of the real Terry Bollea, and whoever this guy going around calling himself Bulk Logan is, is nothing more than a fake hen in a hen house. 

"This guy is broke, he pretends to be rich,

"This guy thinks he can wrestle, he cannot,

"This guy thinks he is the best superstar on the planet, he is not.

"This guy even thinks he can change the match order around and take out an opponent.  He cannot.

"This guy is a drunken fool.    And along with Dolly Waters, they are going to find out what it'll be like to step into the ring with me.  It won't be okay when that bell goes to start that match.  And you both need to be worried not about the outcome but about what will happen before that outcome eventuates.

"They are a useless pair of twats, that I've made them look guilty and woeful.  They will be in desperation mode when it comes to competing against me because the darkness that is Haides is one thing, but the conviction of my misery on them is another.  They won't be laughing at the end of all of this.  Because I will be the one to be laughing on the way back with a first-up victory.  They will be the ones with heartache both Dolly Waters and the fake Bulk Logan.

"But for now, Dolly Waters, and Bulk Logan, I find you GUILTY on all counts, and I'm coming to get what's mine, whether you like it or not, you can't stop me. Because I am your judge, and jury rolled into one."

Victor thumps his gavel down on his desk as he makes the verdict, and he gets up and heads towards the door, just as the video feed cuts out, he turns around and says:


"THE JUDGE HAS SPOKEN."
]]> I WANT SILENCE IN MY COURTROOM
THE COURT OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL

IS NOW IN SESSION.

I REPEAT ORDER IN MY COURTROOM


Our goal was to get to Hades, which is of course where Night 1 of Relentless was to take place.  Whoever chooses places like these must be disturbed.     

Mastermind and I both have matches on Night 1, so I flew with him to Italy which they say is one of the entrances to the underworld, and that place is called. Cumae.

Of course, the other 3 members of the Misfits, Kris the Hammer Vonn Bonn, Melanie 'Crayzee' Childs, and Scarlet the Huntress, along with so-called manager Antony the Jerk, had to come along.  According to Mastermind, they were there to help begin some much-needed chaos.

I could do my own chaos, because I am a judge after all, but now I was part of a stable, i had to go by what Stable Management wanted.  So if new chaos was about to be introduced to the XWF, then so be it.

I saw Mastermind up front in the cock pit of his own private jet, which is unusual, because according to the others he never visited the cockpit, so I decided to join in on the conversation.

MASTERMIND: "So we land in Bacoli, and head to Cuma?"

PILOT: "Yes sir, that's the only way to get there,"

"What's going on?"

MASTERMIND: "The only way to get to Hades is through Cuma, and the only way to do that is to land in Bacoli,"

"We can't go any other way?"

CO-PILOT: "No sir, from what we've been told along with other flights with taking you guys to Relentless this is the only way,"

MASTERMIND: "So we are all going to have to go in by foot?"

PILOT: "Yes, affirmative sir,"

MASTERMIND: "So if I was to hire a helicopter it wouldn't do the trick,"

PILOT: "Negative sir, you'll miss the window by even going in a helicopter.  Cuma is a special spot,"

"Looks like we are having to use our feet,"

MASTERMIND: "Yes Victor, it certainly looks like that,"


"And if we have to, everyone else has to, to,"

MASTERMIND: "I'm glad you are seeing the big picture, but I hate the big picture,"

"It's the only way to keep an open mind, and I need to focus on Bulk Logan and Dolly Waters,"

MASTERMIND: "I wouldn't worry about them, you are way stronger than those two are, and I was really impressed with how you came across in your first promo last week, not that you need any gratification from me, or would want one,"

"Exactly sir, I agree, but thank you anyway.  I take my first match as a member of the Misfits very seriously.  I can do this.  I will do this."


PILOT: "Better go back to your seats gentlemen, we'll be landing in Bacoli very soon,"

I saw Mastermind tap the pilot on his shoulder, and then I made my way back to my seat and saw Mastermind return to his special area.


Quote:If 3 people know a secret, the only way to keep it a secret, is if 2 are dead

- Benjamin Franklin


TEMPORARY COURTROOM OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL
BACOLI, ITALY

A temporary courtroom had been set up for Victor The Judge Mental before he joined Mastermind on his departure for Cuma.  The XWF cameras fade into the courtroom to show only his clerk, Jason Robertson, ready to get things going.

"Preparing the courtroom for Docket Number 001 part 2.  Triple Threat Match at Relentless Night 1.  Between his honor Victor The Judge Mental, Dolly Waters, and Bulk Logan.  Please welcome The Honorable Victor the Judge Mental."

The door to the temporary courtroom opened and in walked Victor, and as he made his way to his desk he took the file from Jason, and then sat down at his desk, and studied it for a few minutes.  He was completely drawing out the atmosphere.

"The details of Docket Number 001 Part 2 are very clear and concise, and compressible.  I said it last week and I'll emphasize it again today, we have two parties who truly do not deserve to be in my debut match coming up, on Night 1 of Relentless.  It's very much of a shame that the powers that be put me in such a match.

"So let's start with Accused #1: Dolly Waters,"

A photograph of Dolly appeared on the screen.

[Image: 1528984473_maxresdefault.jpg]

"Why so glum Ms Waters?  Is it because you haven't got anything to say?  We haven't heard from you all these last two weeks.    I find you GUILTY of wasting our time.

"Or is it because nothing is going your way at the moment?  Our other opponent who I should get to soon, has crossed the line, I won't cross the line, because we all know what a coward you are Ms Waters.  You may put out a weak promo towards the very end of the time limit, and we all know that you wanted to do that all along.    So I find you GUILTY x2 of being disloyal to the Pay Per View, to the XWF Management, and to the XWF Fans themselves for wanting to see a great match.

"Our other opponent may have crossed you out of the match.  I won't do that.  Because I have you dead to rights.    And you know I do.  Ms Waters.

"You've been craving attention these past few months Ms Waters.  I will certainly give it to you, and that means you are going to be found Guilty of all charges that I have put before the court.

"Now let's get on to someone who can't seem to stay out of the spotlight who I feel should really think about staying out of the spotlight because it's doing him more harm than good, and that is Accused #2: Bulk Logan.

"I will stick with one of my earlier guilty verdicts of him being guilty of lying because that's what he is best at.  He told us that he had been a member of the XWF 10 years or so back, I told him I found the proof that he didn't and all he could come back with was that he didn't mention it was the XWF but some other wrestling company.    Bulk that is still lying.  And that you were a champion of that company.  I find that hard to fathom.  Somehow I do.  Because of all the lies you blurt out of your fat mouth.

"You will not be a champion in the XWF if I have something to do with it.  You have not won one yet, neither have I but I am in a stable where my stable leader, Mastermind has won the X-treme Title, the Television title, and the Anarchy title, he's a 3-time former champion.  And my other stable mate Kris the Hammer Von Bonn was briefly a X-treme Champion.  That's entirely another story saved for another time, and the person responsible for taking it away from him will get his just deserts.  Just watch.

"Anyway, back to you web of lies web of mistrust, and web of unknowledgeable outcomes.  You say you have photos of yourself as a youngster as a young Terry Bollea, and you showed them to us.  Well, I have some more photos to twist your story into the afterlife that we are about to enter, Haides.

"Let's start with Exhibit A,"

A young photograph of the real Terry Bollea popped up on the screen.

[Image: rs-21293-27621216-27621217-large.jpg?w=464]

"Exhibit B,"

Another photo of the real Terry Bollea popped up.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS7Ng0J1b4qcia9DvjPjYu...0&usqp=CAU]

"Exhibit C,"

A much older photo of Terry Bollea popped up.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTLb8NpiRxCD9W7Fxuj1pL...k&usqp=CAU]

"Need I say anymore?  This is the imposter of the real Terry Bollea, and whoever this guy going around calling himself Bulk Logan is, is nothing more than a fake hen in a hen house. 

"This guy is broke, he pretends to be rich,

"This guy thinks he can wrestle, he cannot,

"This guy thinks he is the best superstar on the planet, he is not.

"This guy even thinks he can change the match order around and take out an opponent.  He cannot.

"This guy is a drunken fool.    And along with Dolly Waters, they are going to find out what it'll be like to step into the ring with me.  It won't be okay when that bell goes to start that match.  And you both need to be worried not about the outcome but about what will happen before that outcome eventuates.

"They are a useless pair of twats, that I've made them look guilty and woeful.  They will be in desperation mode when it comes to competing against me because the darkness that is Haides is one thing, but the conviction of my misery on them is another.  They won't be laughing at the end of all of this.  Because I will be the one to be laughing on the way back with a first-up victory.  They will be the ones with heartache both Dolly Waters and the fake Bulk Logan.

"But for now, Dolly Waters, and Bulk Logan, I find you GUILTY on all counts, and I'm coming to get what's mine, whether you like it or not, you can't stop me. Because I am your judge, and jury rolled into one."

Victor thumps his gavel down on his desk as he makes the verdict, and he gets up and heads towards the door, just as the video feed cuts out, he turns around and says:


"THE JUDGE HAS SPOKEN."
]]> <![CDATA[I Fear No Snack, No Dessert, Or Diet, Brother!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46847 Fri, 15 Sep 2023 13:45:17 -0700 Bulk Logan]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46847


In an office that exudes nothing but luxury, Larry Smith occupies the grand leather chair behind his massive desk. Wall-to-wall plush carpets, and a wall of windows showcase an awe-inspiring city vista. It's a space that practically shouts "Success!" at whoever walks in.

Larry sat behind his desk, with his oily black hair, aggressively receding hairline, and overly bronzed skin. The latter made his gleaming, veneer-capped teeth pop out even more.

Seated to one side of the room is Gary Newman, an accountant by trade and an unfortunate friend of Bulk Logan. He sits uncomfortably in his wheelchair, his arms and legs encased in casts, serving as less-than-subtle reminders of what may happen when you're friends with the Bulkster. Gary's face was twisted with discomfort and resentment, especially as his eyes locked onto the formidable figure of Bulk Logan, who stands awkwardly in the center of this office staring at the floor like a scolded child.

"Bulk, what the hell was that? A drunken promo outside of a bar? We're trying to salvage your image here, and you pull a stunt like that?"

Bulk, shrugging nonchalantly: "I'm in my 40s, dude. Ain't nothing wrong with a grown man enjoying a drink at a bar. Sheesh, a hero like me? You’d be an idiot to think that I DIDN’T drink, brother!"

"It's not about the drink! It's about the image, Logan. You're supposed to be this virtuous hero to the fans. Heroes don’t cut drunken promos outside bars, especially not while their accountant – and I might add, FRIEND – is being assaulted inside!"

Bulk, rubbing the back of his neck: "Look, Larry, the inspiration just hit me, okay? I felt the energy, the momentum. You always say 'strike while the iron is hot,' right?"

Larry, scoffing: "Not when the iron is drunk and making a scene!"

Gary, interjecting weakly: "And skipping out on the tab... leaving me to face the consequences."

Bulk, a hint of guilt in his eyes: "I told ya, Gaz, I went out to grab my wallet, and... you know how I get carried away sometimes... When I came back, it was too late."

Larry, pointing a stern finger at Bulk: "This isn't just about one night, Logan. This is about your future, your legacy! I've worked too hard to rebrand you, to rebuild you after... well, after everything. And I'll be damned if I let you throw it all away over a spur-of-the-moment blunder."

Bulkster, defiantly: "Maybe it's time for the XWF to realize that the Bulkster can't be tamed. I play by my rules, brother, and if they can't handle it... well, maybe they don't deserve Bulkamania!"

Larry, leaning in, his voice dripping with disdain: "Listen closely, Logan. You're getting a second chance in the wrestling business after being blacklisted for 14 damned years! I had to call in a favor with Theo over in the XWF! You think anyone else would've taken you back? Think about Gary, think about those fans who've stuck by you, and yes, think about all of MY money you'd be jeopardizing. You may think you're above the rules, but trust me, the world doesn’t. If you cost me even one red cent because of your antics, I swear, I'll ensure you're back out in the cold, and this time, there won't be any coming back. You'll be done, once and for all."

Bulk, breathing heavily, locks eyes with Larry: "You threatening me, brother? After all we've been through? You think it's been easy for me? Fourteen years in the wilderness, scraping together a living, while you sat up here in your plush office raking in the big bucks."

Larry, smirking: "You were damaged goods, Logan. No one wanted to touch you. It was my magic that made this little comeback possible. And now – before you've even had your first damned match back, you're in over your head!"

Gary, raising his voice: "Enough, both of you! We all have a lot invested here. Pointing fingers won't get us out."

Bulk, glancing at Gary, sighs deeply: "I'm sorry, Gaz. I never wanted any of this for you."

Gary, softening slightly: "I know, Jerry..."

Larry, leaning back with a sigh: "Your clean-cut superhero image was the one thing we had going for us after... the incident. You had the love of your fans, Bulk. The little Bulkamaniacs that still believed in ya, but after this recent stunt, it just reminded people of ‘the call’ *SIGH* ... I don't know."

Bulk, rubbing his temples: "That phone was recorded illegally! I was the damned victim, dude! It cost me everything, and all because of some drunken pillow talk, dude!"

Larry, shaking his head: "It doesn't matter. Perception is reality in the business of show business. We need something big, something that'll remind everyone just who Bulk Logan really is."

Gary, chiming in: "Not just a reminder, but a statement. One that says you've changed."

Bulk, slowly nodding: "Something genuine. Something that shows my heart, my passion. The real Bulk Logan."

Larry, skeptical: "And what exactly would that be?"

Bulk, a gleam in his eyes, suddenly stands up straighter. "I've got it. I know exactly what to do. The Bulkster is going to cut the most genuine, heartfelt promo the world has ever seen. No scripts, no rehearsals, straight from the heart. I'm going to remind the world, and especially the Bulkamaniacs, why they fell in love with me in the first place. It’s time for the world to see the real me."

Gary, smiling weakly: "That's the spirit, Logan. Be genuine, be honest."

Larry, still doubtful but willing to play along: "Alright, Bulk. If you think this is the way forward, then we're with you. Just... make it count."

Bulk, pumping his fist: "Trust me, brother, the Bulkster is about to run wild, and the world won’t forget it anytime soon!"


[Image: bulkamania.jpg]


"The Bulkster waited all week with baited breath, dudes! Waited to hear, after 14 years away from the business, how fire my opponents shots against me would be, and let me tell you something, brother, IT'S NOT HOT, dudes!"

"First and foremost, let me address the blatant disrespect from the XWF, brother! Bumping me from the opener to the second match? What's up with that, dudes? I'm anything but mid. I'm like a five-course gourmet meal in a world full of fast food, and the only reason I’m being dragged down is because of the quality of my opponents, brother!"

"And let me make something crystal clear – this demotion definitely had NOTHING to do with that tipsy promo from last week! You think the Bulkster gets shaken by a drink? That's pure, passionate Bulk energy, and if XWF can't recognize that, well, that's on them, dude!"

Bulk, jabbing a finger at the camera: "Now speaking of opponents... Dolly Waters, I've got something to say to you, sister! While Bulkamania is running wild, you’re running scared! So scared that you’ve got a streak of yellow running so far down your back, it looks like you stepped on a banana peel, dude! For a 'decorated former champion' and so-called 'prodigy' as they call you, your commitment level seems real low, just like my opinion of you!"

"And then we've got 'The Judge.' Man, you've been laying down some serious misjudgments, brother! Talking about how I was never in the XWF, never a TV champ? Dude, I’ve never claimed to be in XWF! I made waves in the WPW, holding that TV championship with pride before the business turned its back on me. And as for focusing on facts, Judge? Looks like you need to get your eyes tested! When you can't even get the basic facts right, it just makes me wonder if you should even be called 'The Judge', dude!"

"And about me being a Hulk Hogan wannabe? Let me set the record straight, brother! Terry Bollea wishes he could be even half the man Bulk Logan is! It was 1984 when Jerry Logan—that's me, the real deal—set the world on fire! I was the one who slammed all 1200 lbs of Andre the Giant at Wrestlemania III, in front of the whole world! I carried the top prize in the business, the WWF World Heavyweight Championship, for over five solid years! I was the one who transformed wrestling by staring in Rocky III, and I was the one who made professional wrestling the mega-show it is today, dude!"

Bulk's voice rises with passion: "And then, when they found out that the Bulkster was actually just a Bulky kid not even in my teen years, dude? They panicked, brother! They had to let me go, but Vinnie Mac Daddy shuddered at the thought of losing his cash-cow, so what'cha think he did, brother? McMahon hired that skinny, second-rate Terry Bollea to steal my thunder, to rip off the Bulkster's unique brand! Just like TERRY BORDEN was doing a few years ago, RIGHT HERE, in the XWF, dude! The fans know the truth, brother. Even if you're too blind to see it! Todd, dude, throw up that comparison shot I emailed you, brother!"


[Image: Bulkor-Hulk.jpg]


"You see this, brother? This is irrefutable proof! Look at those two pictures, and tell me who's who!" 

"Over here," he points to the bulked-up image, "That's the real Bulk Logan, brother, when I was setting the world on fire, slamming giants and running wild on everyone who dared step in my path. And over here?" 

He scoffs, pointing to the skinnier version, "That's the imitation! That's Terry Bollea! When Vince and the WWF brass realized that the Bulkster was but a REAL child prodigy, they got cold feet, kicked me to the curb, and brought in this skinny Bollea fella to fill my size 16s!"

Bulk continues, his face turning a shade of red that matches his bandana, "They stole my name, my legacy, even my catchphrases, brother! And for what? To promote an imposter and keep that cash coming for a few more years, dude? We all saw Terry fall flat on his face and run towards the Thundering Paradise, dude! Never did much of nothing until he had a gang of hooligans to back him up, brother!"

"McMahon thought he could replace the irreplaceable, by taking my name and giving it to Terry! But look at the pictures, brother! The Bulkamaniacs know the truth! They know who the real deal is, and so will you, Judge, when come Relentless, the court of Bulkamania sentences you to career death along with the rest of your Misfit pals, brother!"

"Judge, dude, every word out of your mouth, just baseless claims and empty threats!"

"You tried to discredit the Bulkster's legacy, thinking you've got the evidence to convict? HA! Brother, all I've seen is you trying to twist the truth, but the Bulkamaniacs, they've seen the evidence, and it's right here!" Bulk pounds his massive chest. "And on that screen," he points back to the pictures, "Where the world can see, dude!"

"Let me tell you something, you've just painted a big target on your back, and the Bulkster has never missed a shot, brother!"

"You wanted the spotlight? You got it. At Relentless, it's gonna be you and me, one-on-one, because we all know Dolly doesn't stand a chance against the Bulk of the Bulkster, dude! And when the dust settles, your gavel won’t save you, brother!"

"So, Judge, I hope you've got your closing statements ready, dude. Because at Relentless, Bulk Logan is gonna close the chapter on your career, and when it's all said and done, there won't be any appeals, no retrials. Only one undeniable truth: that the Bulkster reigns supreme, and Bulkamania will live FOREVER!"

"So whatcha gonna do, 'Judge,' when Bulkamania runs wild on YOU?!"]]>


In an office that exudes nothing but luxury, Larry Smith occupies the grand leather chair behind his massive desk. Wall-to-wall plush carpets, and a wall of windows showcase an awe-inspiring city vista. It's a space that practically shouts "Success!" at whoever walks in.

Larry sat behind his desk, with his oily black hair, aggressively receding hairline, and overly bronzed skin. The latter made his gleaming, veneer-capped teeth pop out even more.

Seated to one side of the room is Gary Newman, an accountant by trade and an unfortunate friend of Bulk Logan. He sits uncomfortably in his wheelchair, his arms and legs encased in casts, serving as less-than-subtle reminders of what may happen when you're friends with the Bulkster. Gary's face was twisted with discomfort and resentment, especially as his eyes locked onto the formidable figure of Bulk Logan, who stands awkwardly in the center of this office staring at the floor like a scolded child.

"Bulk, what the hell was that? A drunken promo outside of a bar? We're trying to salvage your image here, and you pull a stunt like that?"

Bulk, shrugging nonchalantly: "I'm in my 40s, dude. Ain't nothing wrong with a grown man enjoying a drink at a bar. Sheesh, a hero like me? You’d be an idiot to think that I DIDN’T drink, brother!"

"It's not about the drink! It's about the image, Logan. You're supposed to be this virtuous hero to the fans. Heroes don’t cut drunken promos outside bars, especially not while their accountant – and I might add, FRIEND – is being assaulted inside!"

Bulk, rubbing the back of his neck: "Look, Larry, the inspiration just hit me, okay? I felt the energy, the momentum. You always say 'strike while the iron is hot,' right?"

Larry, scoffing: "Not when the iron is drunk and making a scene!"

Gary, interjecting weakly: "And skipping out on the tab... leaving me to face the consequences."

Bulk, a hint of guilt in his eyes: "I told ya, Gaz, I went out to grab my wallet, and... you know how I get carried away sometimes... When I came back, it was too late."

Larry, pointing a stern finger at Bulk: "This isn't just about one night, Logan. This is about your future, your legacy! I've worked too hard to rebrand you, to rebuild you after... well, after everything. And I'll be damned if I let you throw it all away over a spur-of-the-moment blunder."

Bulkster, defiantly: "Maybe it's time for the XWF to realize that the Bulkster can't be tamed. I play by my rules, brother, and if they can't handle it... well, maybe they don't deserve Bulkamania!"

Larry, leaning in, his voice dripping with disdain: "Listen closely, Logan. You're getting a second chance in the wrestling business after being blacklisted for 14 damned years! I had to call in a favor with Theo over in the XWF! You think anyone else would've taken you back? Think about Gary, think about those fans who've stuck by you, and yes, think about all of MY money you'd be jeopardizing. You may think you're above the rules, but trust me, the world doesn’t. If you cost me even one red cent because of your antics, I swear, I'll ensure you're back out in the cold, and this time, there won't be any coming back. You'll be done, once and for all."

Bulk, breathing heavily, locks eyes with Larry: "You threatening me, brother? After all we've been through? You think it's been easy for me? Fourteen years in the wilderness, scraping together a living, while you sat up here in your plush office raking in the big bucks."

Larry, smirking: "You were damaged goods, Logan. No one wanted to touch you. It was my magic that made this little comeback possible. And now – before you've even had your first damned match back, you're in over your head!"

Gary, raising his voice: "Enough, both of you! We all have a lot invested here. Pointing fingers won't get us out."

Bulk, glancing at Gary, sighs deeply: "I'm sorry, Gaz. I never wanted any of this for you."

Gary, softening slightly: "I know, Jerry..."

Larry, leaning back with a sigh: "Your clean-cut superhero image was the one thing we had going for us after... the incident. You had the love of your fans, Bulk. The little Bulkamaniacs that still believed in ya, but after this recent stunt, it just reminded people of ‘the call’ *SIGH* ... I don't know."

Bulk, rubbing his temples: "That phone was recorded illegally! I was the damned victim, dude! It cost me everything, and all because of some drunken pillow talk, dude!"

Larry, shaking his head: "It doesn't matter. Perception is reality in the business of show business. We need something big, something that'll remind everyone just who Bulk Logan really is."

Gary, chiming in: "Not just a reminder, but a statement. One that says you've changed."

Bulk, slowly nodding: "Something genuine. Something that shows my heart, my passion. The real Bulk Logan."

Larry, skeptical: "And what exactly would that be?"

Bulk, a gleam in his eyes, suddenly stands up straighter. "I've got it. I know exactly what to do. The Bulkster is going to cut the most genuine, heartfelt promo the world has ever seen. No scripts, no rehearsals, straight from the heart. I'm going to remind the world, and especially the Bulkamaniacs, why they fell in love with me in the first place. It’s time for the world to see the real me."

Gary, smiling weakly: "That's the spirit, Logan. Be genuine, be honest."

Larry, still doubtful but willing to play along: "Alright, Bulk. If you think this is the way forward, then we're with you. Just... make it count."

Bulk, pumping his fist: "Trust me, brother, the Bulkster is about to run wild, and the world won’t forget it anytime soon!"


[Image: bulkamania.jpg]


"The Bulkster waited all week with baited breath, dudes! Waited to hear, after 14 years away from the business, how fire my opponents shots against me would be, and let me tell you something, brother, IT'S NOT HOT, dudes!"

"First and foremost, let me address the blatant disrespect from the XWF, brother! Bumping me from the opener to the second match? What's up with that, dudes? I'm anything but mid. I'm like a five-course gourmet meal in a world full of fast food, and the only reason I’m being dragged down is because of the quality of my opponents, brother!"

"And let me make something crystal clear – this demotion definitely had NOTHING to do with that tipsy promo from last week! You think the Bulkster gets shaken by a drink? That's pure, passionate Bulk energy, and if XWF can't recognize that, well, that's on them, dude!"

Bulk, jabbing a finger at the camera: "Now speaking of opponents... Dolly Waters, I've got something to say to you, sister! While Bulkamania is running wild, you’re running scared! So scared that you’ve got a streak of yellow running so far down your back, it looks like you stepped on a banana peel, dude! For a 'decorated former champion' and so-called 'prodigy' as they call you, your commitment level seems real low, just like my opinion of you!"

"And then we've got 'The Judge.' Man, you've been laying down some serious misjudgments, brother! Talking about how I was never in the XWF, never a TV champ? Dude, I’ve never claimed to be in XWF! I made waves in the WPW, holding that TV championship with pride before the business turned its back on me. And as for focusing on facts, Judge? Looks like you need to get your eyes tested! When you can't even get the basic facts right, it just makes me wonder if you should even be called 'The Judge', dude!"

"And about me being a Hulk Hogan wannabe? Let me set the record straight, brother! Terry Bollea wishes he could be even half the man Bulk Logan is! It was 1984 when Jerry Logan—that's me, the real deal—set the world on fire! I was the one who slammed all 1200 lbs of Andre the Giant at Wrestlemania III, in front of the whole world! I carried the top prize in the business, the WWF World Heavyweight Championship, for over five solid years! I was the one who transformed wrestling by staring in Rocky III, and I was the one who made professional wrestling the mega-show it is today, dude!"

Bulk's voice rises with passion: "And then, when they found out that the Bulkster was actually just a Bulky kid not even in my teen years, dude? They panicked, brother! They had to let me go, but Vinnie Mac Daddy shuddered at the thought of losing his cash-cow, so what'cha think he did, brother? McMahon hired that skinny, second-rate Terry Bollea to steal my thunder, to rip off the Bulkster's unique brand! Just like TERRY BORDEN was doing a few years ago, RIGHT HERE, in the XWF, dude! The fans know the truth, brother. Even if you're too blind to see it! Todd, dude, throw up that comparison shot I emailed you, brother!"


[Image: Bulkor-Hulk.jpg]


"You see this, brother? This is irrefutable proof! Look at those two pictures, and tell me who's who!" 

"Over here," he points to the bulked-up image, "That's the real Bulk Logan, brother, when I was setting the world on fire, slamming giants and running wild on everyone who dared step in my path. And over here?" 

He scoffs, pointing to the skinnier version, "That's the imitation! That's Terry Bollea! When Vince and the WWF brass realized that the Bulkster was but a REAL child prodigy, they got cold feet, kicked me to the curb, and brought in this skinny Bollea fella to fill my size 16s!"

Bulk continues, his face turning a shade of red that matches his bandana, "They stole my name, my legacy, even my catchphrases, brother! And for what? To promote an imposter and keep that cash coming for a few more years, dude? We all saw Terry fall flat on his face and run towards the Thundering Paradise, dude! Never did much of nothing until he had a gang of hooligans to back him up, brother!"

"McMahon thought he could replace the irreplaceable, by taking my name and giving it to Terry! But look at the pictures, brother! The Bulkamaniacs know the truth! They know who the real deal is, and so will you, Judge, when come Relentless, the court of Bulkamania sentences you to career death along with the rest of your Misfit pals, brother!"

"Judge, dude, every word out of your mouth, just baseless claims and empty threats!"

"You tried to discredit the Bulkster's legacy, thinking you've got the evidence to convict? HA! Brother, all I've seen is you trying to twist the truth, but the Bulkamaniacs, they've seen the evidence, and it's right here!" Bulk pounds his massive chest. "And on that screen," he points back to the pictures, "Where the world can see, dude!"

"Let me tell you something, you've just painted a big target on your back, and the Bulkster has never missed a shot, brother!"

"You wanted the spotlight? You got it. At Relentless, it's gonna be you and me, one-on-one, because we all know Dolly doesn't stand a chance against the Bulk of the Bulkster, dude! And when the dust settles, your gavel won’t save you, brother!"

"So, Judge, I hope you've got your closing statements ready, dude. Because at Relentless, Bulk Logan is gonna close the chapter on your career, and when it's all said and done, there won't be any appeals, no retrials. Only one undeniable truth: that the Bulkster reigns supreme, and Bulkamania will live FOREVER!"

"So whatcha gonna do, 'Judge,' when Bulkamania runs wild on YOU?!"]]> <![CDATA[If it has to start this way so be it]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46861 Fri, 15 Sep 2023 00:02:47 -0700 VictorTheJudgeMental]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46861 I WANT SILENCE IN MY COURTROOM
THE COURT OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL

IS NOW IN SESSION.

I REPEAT ORDER IN MY COURTROOM


WHO AM I?

WHAT DO I WANT?

WHAT AM I DOING HERE


Those are the three burning questions that every little bloody critter in the XWF should be concerned about right about now.

But first

So what do you feeble-minded fools want to know about this new ashole in town?  That's right I called myself an asshole because I am one.  I don't deny it.  I won't deny it.

I don't allow games in my courtroom, never had, and never will.  People who think they can are fools in my eyes, and so I make sure they will suffer, as there's no jury, just me.  I am the Judge, and I am the Jury and I hand out the punishment.  I believe anyone who steps into my area of expertise, is guilty whether they like it or not.

I am the one in control no one else.  I am the special enforcer.

After I hand out guilty verdicts, I will come calling for their debts.  If those who can't, or won't, or don't, pay their debts then I will collect them by any means necessary.  They will have no other choice.  What's the one clear word through all this?  CHOICE:

I give out the pain, no one else does, and trust me when I say this, there will be pain, and there will be plenty of it, and boy will it hurt.

You really don't want to cross me, but there may be no choice if I decide to come after you, and let's just say this being a newbie here in the XWF, I will come after anyone and everyone.  I'm not afraid to put you in my court and judge you for your past, present, and future mistakes.  Because you guys have plenty hiding in your closests and you all know you do.  No one can change that whether you say you can or not.

I make the rules in my courtroom, and everyone must follow them to the letter.

No one and I mean no one can figure me out, because sometimes I can't even figure myself out, and I like it like that.  It means I have to stay on my feet, think on my feet, and act on my feet. not only act, but react, and that is when I am at my strongest, and manage to put the message out.  It will be more bad luck if you get me to react.  So please either be a fool or don't even try.  I pity the fool as Mr. T. used to say.

So that's who I am whilst I want to be here in the XWF.  I was scouted by Mastermind and Antony the Jerk to bring stability to the Misfits, but I have my own ideas of what I should be doing, but they won't be revealed until after I have caused enough havoc to make waves within these hallow halls, and in that squared circle.

Where I come from is for another day, and so is how I became a judge, but for now this is all you are getting.  I don't give much away,


JUSTICE A.A. BIRCH BUILDING
COURTHOUSE
TEMPORARY COURT ROOM OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL
408 SECOND AVENUE
NASHVILLE, TENNESSE

The XWF cameras fade in to the court room of Victor The Judge Mental.  It seems every where he went throughout the United States or the world he could work out of a tempory court room at his expense.

He was in Nashville because apparently Mastermind was due to fight Isiah King on a special edition of a Pay Per View called Sound and Fury, and Victor needed to get his first promo out for his Triple Threat Match on Day 1 of Relentless.

There was no one in the courtroom at the time except for his clerk.  Jason Robertson, who had been clerking for him for a few years now.

"Preparing the courtroom for Docket Number 001.    Triple Threat Match At Relentless Night 1.  Between his honor Victor The Judge Mental, Dolly Waters, and Bulk Logan.    Please welcome The Honorable Victor the Judge Mental."

The door to the courtroom opened and in walked Victor making his way to his desk.  He took the file from Jason Robertson and studied it for a few seconds before looking into the camera.

"The details of Docket Number 001 are very easy and comprehensible.    We have two parties who do not belong in my debut match coming up on Night 1 of Relentless and that's a total Fact.

"Let's start with the guy calling himself Bulk Logan."

A photo of Bulk came up on the screen.

[Image: dave-sullivan-hulkamaniac.png]

"GUILTY.

"Why guilty straight away you are all asking?  Well, look at the fat fecker.  He's an imposter.  A Hulk Hogan wannabe lookalike.  And he's clearly out of scruples."

"GUILTY times 2.

"Why Guilty Times 2?  Because he goes around the XWF like he owns the place, yet he never stepped foot in the place.  I had my people search records and records of the XWF, and never have they ever come across his name, and his likeness.  He's clearly a big fat balding liar.  And I hate liars very much.  You, my ugly so-called wannabee doppelganger want to be around people who like you.  You should be sent to prison.

"No. No. No.  Prison wouldn't suit you.    It would be too good for you.    You should be sent to a mental hospital for deranged and searching for one's own identity.

"No.  No.  No...  Sorry scratch that.  I'm belittling the health system and people's mental health and for that I apologize.  I won't say I'm sorry pursay, but this dude needs somewhere to call home, and it's not out in the wide open world.

"You Bulk Logan, are GUILTY on all counts.  Let's leave it as that.  You disgust me.  Not many people do.  But you do."  
"You were never Universal Champion, nor Television Champion, nor Tag Team Champion, nor X-treme Champion.  Anarchy wasn't around back then so you weren't even a champion of that brand either, and are you going to be, I have exposed you for all you are."

Victor sat still for a few seconds and looked back down at the docket in front of him, and then he looked back at the camera.

"And then there's my next opponent,"

A photo of Dolly Waters appeared on the screen.

[Image: entertainment-movies-2014-10-chloe-moret...s-main.jpg]

"Now she can claim to us all that she's good around here, and yes she has to be considered good because she's won championships unlike the fool who calls himself Bulk Logan.

"She's been here and done things that Bulk can't do, but her one biggest mistake has lead to her making me finding her....

"GUILTY.

"Guilty of using her sex appeal to get other people and opponents to do the dirty work for her.      She goes from one guy to another guy like a friend of my sister used to, and that's saying something.  I'm not going to let her get away with that.  I won't allow it.

"Also I find her



"GUILTY Times 2:


"Because that smile of hers gives away that she is hiding something, and we all know when people smile like that and hide stuff.  Deep down they have a deep dark secret, and if it gets out it'll end them.  I'm going to end you Dolly Waters once and for all.  You need to be taught a lesson because it's been allowed to go on for far too long.

"So ladies and gentlemen of the XWF, you have sat through your first day in my court, I have found both Bulk Logan and Dolly Waters guilty on all charges.  I'll be collecting the debt soon. Day 1 of this 2 Day trial is now over."

Victor The Judge Mental slams his gavel down on his desk, he then gets up, and heads towards the door to the chamber, just as the camera fades out.  He stops and turns around and says:





"THE JUDGE HAS SPOKEN"
]]> I WANT SILENCE IN MY COURTROOM
THE COURT OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL

IS NOW IN SESSION.

I REPEAT ORDER IN MY COURTROOM


WHO AM I?

WHAT DO I WANT?

WHAT AM I DOING HERE


Those are the three burning questions that every little bloody critter in the XWF should be concerned about right about now.

But first

So what do you feeble-minded fools want to know about this new ashole in town?  That's right I called myself an asshole because I am one.  I don't deny it.  I won't deny it.

I don't allow games in my courtroom, never had, and never will.  People who think they can are fools in my eyes, and so I make sure they will suffer, as there's no jury, just me.  I am the Judge, and I am the Jury and I hand out the punishment.  I believe anyone who steps into my area of expertise, is guilty whether they like it or not.

I am the one in control no one else.  I am the special enforcer.

After I hand out guilty verdicts, I will come calling for their debts.  If those who can't, or won't, or don't, pay their debts then I will collect them by any means necessary.  They will have no other choice.  What's the one clear word through all this?  CHOICE:

I give out the pain, no one else does, and trust me when I say this, there will be pain, and there will be plenty of it, and boy will it hurt.

You really don't want to cross me, but there may be no choice if I decide to come after you, and let's just say this being a newbie here in the XWF, I will come after anyone and everyone.  I'm not afraid to put you in my court and judge you for your past, present, and future mistakes.  Because you guys have plenty hiding in your closests and you all know you do.  No one can change that whether you say you can or not.

I make the rules in my courtroom, and everyone must follow them to the letter.

No one and I mean no one can figure me out, because sometimes I can't even figure myself out, and I like it like that.  It means I have to stay on my feet, think on my feet, and act on my feet. not only act, but react, and that is when I am at my strongest, and manage to put the message out.  It will be more bad luck if you get me to react.  So please either be a fool or don't even try.  I pity the fool as Mr. T. used to say.

So that's who I am whilst I want to be here in the XWF.  I was scouted by Mastermind and Antony the Jerk to bring stability to the Misfits, but I have my own ideas of what I should be doing, but they won't be revealed until after I have caused enough havoc to make waves within these hallow halls, and in that squared circle.

Where I come from is for another day, and so is how I became a judge, but for now this is all you are getting.  I don't give much away,


JUSTICE A.A. BIRCH BUILDING
COURTHOUSE
TEMPORARY COURT ROOM OF VICTOR THE JUDGE MENTAL
408 SECOND AVENUE
NASHVILLE, TENNESSE

The XWF cameras fade in to the court room of Victor The Judge Mental.  It seems every where he went throughout the United States or the world he could work out of a tempory court room at his expense.

He was in Nashville because apparently Mastermind was due to fight Isiah King on a special edition of a Pay Per View called Sound and Fury, and Victor needed to get his first promo out for his Triple Threat Match on Day 1 of Relentless.

There was no one in the courtroom at the time except for his clerk.  Jason Robertson, who had been clerking for him for a few years now.

"Preparing the courtroom for Docket Number 001.    Triple Threat Match At Relentless Night 1.  Between his honor Victor The Judge Mental, Dolly Waters, and Bulk Logan.    Please welcome The Honorable Victor the Judge Mental."

The door to the courtroom opened and in walked Victor making his way to his desk.  He took the file from Jason Robertson and studied it for a few seconds before looking into the camera.

"The details of Docket Number 001 are very easy and comprehensible.    We have two parties who do not belong in my debut match coming up on Night 1 of Relentless and that's a total Fact.

"Let's start with the guy calling himself Bulk Logan."

A photo of Bulk came up on the screen.

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"GUILTY.

"Why guilty straight away you are all asking?  Well, look at the fat fecker.  He's an imposter.  A Hulk Hogan wannabe lookalike.  And he's clearly out of scruples."

"GUILTY times 2.

"Why Guilty Times 2?  Because he goes around the XWF like he owns the place, yet he never stepped foot in the place.  I had my people search records and records of the XWF, and never have they ever come across his name, and his likeness.  He's clearly a big fat balding liar.  And I hate liars very much.  You, my ugly so-called wannabee doppelganger want to be around people who like you.  You should be sent to prison.

"No. No. No.  Prison wouldn't suit you.    It would be too good for you.    You should be sent to a mental hospital for deranged and searching for one's own identity.

"No.  No.  No...  Sorry scratch that.  I'm belittling the health system and people's mental health and for that I apologize.  I won't say I'm sorry pursay, but this dude needs somewhere to call home, and it's not out in the wide open world.

"You Bulk Logan, are GUILTY on all counts.  Let's leave it as that.  You disgust me.  Not many people do.  But you do."  
"You were never Universal Champion, nor Television Champion, nor Tag Team Champion, nor X-treme Champion.  Anarchy wasn't around back then so you weren't even a champion of that brand either, and are you going to be, I have exposed you for all you are."

Victor sat still for a few seconds and looked back down at the docket in front of him, and then he looked back at the camera.

"And then there's my next opponent,"

A photo of Dolly Waters appeared on the screen.

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"Now she can claim to us all that she's good around here, and yes she has to be considered good because she's won championships unlike the fool who calls himself Bulk Logan.

"She's been here and done things that Bulk can't do, but her one biggest mistake has lead to her making me finding her....

"GUILTY.

"Guilty of using her sex appeal to get other people and opponents to do the dirty work for her.      She goes from one guy to another guy like a friend of my sister used to, and that's saying something.  I'm not going to let her get away with that.  I won't allow it.

"Also I find her



"GUILTY Times 2:


"Because that smile of hers gives away that she is hiding something, and we all know when people smile like that and hide stuff.  Deep down they have a deep dark secret, and if it gets out it'll end them.  I'm going to end you Dolly Waters once and for all.  You need to be taught a lesson because it's been allowed to go on for far too long.

"So ladies and gentlemen of the XWF, you have sat through your first day in my court, I have found both Bulk Logan and Dolly Waters guilty on all charges.  I'll be collecting the debt soon. Day 1 of this 2 Day trial is now over."

Victor The Judge Mental slams his gavel down on his desk, he then gets up, and heads towards the door to the chamber, just as the camera fades out.  He stops and turns around and says:





"THE JUDGE HAS SPOKEN"
]]> <![CDATA[Disturbing Behavior]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46869 Thu, 14 Sep 2023 23:55:22 -0700 The Blue Tango]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46869 DISTURBING BEHAVIOR





Amid the wild winds that whipped around the top of the Grand City PD's rooftop, Atomic Bat's epic cape fluttered like something out of a comic book splash page. Bathed in moonlight, her face shone all cool and silvery. Those eyes? Oh, they were all kinds of fierce.

With a superhero landing straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster, she touched down, depositing the dazed goons with a thud right in front of Commissioner Jim Jordan. Like, Bam! Justice delivered!

"Evening, Commissioner," she greeted with a tight smile.

Jim eyed the thugs, one nursing a broken nose, the other glaring defiantly, “What’s their story?”

“Attempted ATM theft. You’ll find the machine locked tight inside of a crashed van at the corner of 4th and Main.”

He raised an eyebrow. “ATM theft? Like, the entire machine?”

Under the soft lighting of the rooftop, Atomic Bat shrugged. The bruises on her face hinted at a tough night out in the city. “Thugs are getting wild these days. I’ve heard tales of ‘some’ even going as far as joining Satanic cults for a chance at a larger slice of the criminal pie. What is the world coming to?"

Jim nodded with a grunt as he gave her a once over. “You’ve looked better.”

She touched a swelling on her cheek, wincing. "They were tougher than I expected. Had some heavy fire power on them… It’s only getting more dangerous out there…"

"Where's Tango when you need him? Should've been a breeze with him around," Jim noted, scanning the horizon for the familiar blue figure.

She sighed, "The Blue Tango had... other engagements tonight."

Jim looked at her sharply. “Is everything okay with him? Ever since that incident with Toxicity's cocoon, he’s been giving off an odd vibe...”

Atomic Bat hesitated, but then firmly shook her head. "No, everything's fine, Jim. Tango's just adjusting to his newfound abilities. We'll get a handle on it. Trust me."

The Commissioner gave her a long look, as if contemplating whether to push the matter further.

"Everything alright, Commissioner?"

He took a deep breath and scratched the stubble on his chin.  He said nothing for a few moments, which gave the Atomic Bat a little discomfort.

"Jim?"

"It's nothing.  It's just…  In other districts, late at night, there have been other busts made…  Similar stuff, you know, robberies…  B&E's…  Reports of public disturbances…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it hasn't been you guys has it?"

She was taken aback and looked at Jim with a confused look.

"I'm not sure I understand..."

"Well, these poor bastards aren't found nice and tidy like this with bows on their heads like you usually leave them.  They're found with broken limbs, faces, ruptured organs…  beaten to near death." 

Atomic Bat took a moment before answering, her eyes betraying a flicker of emotion. “Jim, you’ve known me for a long time. You know I always bring them in in one piece. My goal has always been justice, not revenge or… brutality."

"There were some where nothing was even reported.  We just show up and the only apparent crime is the massacre that we walk up to."

She couldn't help but look away.  As if they didn't have enough on their hands, now this?

"I'll get to the bottom of it, Jim.  Whoever is behind this brutal form of 'justice', I'll find them.  You know you can trust me."

There's a long silence between them before Atomic Bat forces eye contact with him again.

"Jim?"

Sighing once more, he managed to allow a faint smile through, "Of course.  I trust you, Atomic Bat.  I trust you."

"Appreciated, Commissioner," Atomic Bat replied, forcing a smile back before launching herself into the air with her cape billowing behind her. 

As she soared through the night sky, Jim's words echoed through her head.

... I trust you, Atomic Bat.  I trust…  You.


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Across the city, in what must be a high-tech lair hidden behind the facade of an ordinary apartment, Calypso sat on a recliner, a bag of chips in one hand, an Xbox controller in the other. The room was awash with the glow of multiple monitors displaying maps, algorithms, and, at this very moment, the game Starfield on the main screen.

It looked like he hadn't moved in days, nor bathed.  His five o'clock shadow grew into a near-full beard within a few days and the few remaining hairs on his head were a mess.  Reaching for another handful of chips, his gaze landed on a picture frame by his gaming setup. It was a snapshot of him and Atomic Bat, arms around each other, all smiles. For a moment, his grin faltered.

His eyes darted to another screen displaying a news feed. "ATM Robbery Foiled: Atomic Bat Takes Down Thugs." The headline was followed by an image of the two thugs she had captured, looking battered and cuffed.

"Chump change.  Call me when we need to bring out the big guns," he mused, his expression hard to read.

He indulged back into the game, but not for long before there was a knock at his door.  He removed the headset from one side of his head and listened, and there it was again. 

Not expecting visitors, he slowly crept toward the door, grabbing a police baton along the way and held it tightly and high above his head.  He slowly and quietly unlocked the door and swung it open to see Vita standing in the doorway!

“Vita?”  The light in the hallway nearly blinded him.  He took a step back and shielded his eyes with his free hand as Vita casually walked into the apartment.  He dropped the baton on the countertop and slammed the door behind his partner then followed her into the TV room.  She turned on a couple of standing lamps, which blinded him as well, and looked around at the room.  After a moment's thought, she decided to stand rather than clear a place to sit.

"Didn't expect to see you here. Did you make a break in the Doomsayer case?"

She looked up at him and took notice of the dark circles around his eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Um… No, I just thought I'd swing by," she said casually, her gaze looking over his shoulder to the chaos of his apartment. "Everything alright? You've been kinda MIA lately."

He shrugged and entered the room, still adjusting to the lights. "I've just been collecting my thoughts, that's all.  After that last run-in with Toxicity, I've felt great, but haven't really wanted to waste my energy, I guess?  L-O-L."

Vita continued to stand in place, almost nervously, and occasionally gave a glance around the room then back to Calypso.

"Sooooo..  Was this just a wellness check, or what?  Hehe.  Have you seen Starfield?  It's fantastic."

She bit her lip, thinking of the perfect alibi. "Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd see how you're doing." She paused, "And maybe grab a bite to eat together?"

Calypso raised an eyebrow and pointed at the open bag of chips on the couch. "Not really hungry."

She smirked, "My treat?"

"Hmm," his darkened eyes squinted further as he stood in deep thought.

"There's a new Vegan BBQ place that just opened up a few blocks from here."

His eyes widened in interest, and a slow smile spread across his face, "They have tofu skewers?"

"They're famous for them."

"You should've led with 'Vegan BBQ'.  Why are we still standing here?"

He quickly grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair and rushed for the door.  Vita quickly grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

"NOT before you get a shower, dude."



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As they walked side by side, it was evident that despite whatever issues Calypso was facing, they shared a deeper connection. The kind you'd expect from two who've spent countless nights watching over a city, even if neither admitted it out loud.

Vita stole a glance at Calypso, the moonlight catching the edges of his face. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes, a change of scenery and good company can do wonders."

He looked over and smirked, "I can't argue that some fresh air wasn't a bad idea.  And I don't think I've seen or spoken to another human-being in a couple of days."

Calypso realized after saying it out loud how pathetic it kind of sounded, but shrugged it off.  They both let out a short uncomfortable laugh and continued towards the BBQ place down the street.

Vita noticed small changes in Calypso's character, which made her nervous about what Commissioner Jordan mentioned earlier.  It was hard enough keeping him focused under the Hero's Guild, but after it fell?  It was like the rules and everything they stood for before were slowly starting to shed away.  Then after he was captured and went through whatever mutation in Toxicity's cocoon, they were gone…  But he was hiding it.

"I, uh, missed you on that call earlier," she finally said out loud.

"The ATM one?"

"Yeah, that one," she paused, "The only one."

"My bad!  I figured I'd, maybe, stick back in case some other trouble stirred up, ya know?  Why send all the troops to one place, right?"

"I can understand that.  It's just, we're a team, remember?  The Dynamic Duo!  The pair you wouldn't dare cross!  The last of the Hero's Guild!  We're hardly any of those when only one of us shows up."

Calypso scoffed and rolled his eyes just a little.

"Okay, I get it, but I think at this point we're wasting fire power."

"Fire power?  Cal, you don't know what kind of powers you have.  You don't know if they're going to last, or how long, or what they even are!  We're treading in deep waters here just assuming that something you gained from one of our greatest nemeses is a good thing!  This is not the business to be optimistic-"

"I think you're being under-mistic about the whole thing."

"It's pessimistic, and I'm not!  I'm being REAListic and safe!  In case you've forgotten, we barely escaped with our lives last time.  We HAVE to be more cautious out there, man, or one of us is totally going to get hurt."

Calypso sighed and kicked a few stones on his way by.  His frustration showed.  Why didn't Vita STILL not have any faith in him?  Why couldn't she trust him?  They've been Tag Team Champions for months and they've been fighting crime together longer than that.  She claims they're a team…  Partners…  But all he's ever felt like is her mere sidekick.

The two of them didn't say much the rest of the way to the restaurant and even while they were there.  They didn't eat in silence, but the conversation never really got further than a few comments about their food, which Calypso mostly replied with "Uh-huh's".  She wanted to bring up what Commissioner Jordan had mentioned earlier about the brutal busts across the city, but she wanted to be sure it was the right time.  Whatever power was surging through her partner's body right now wasn't something that was agreeing with logic…  and her simply asking him about it may trigger something…  especially if it was him, which she prayed over and over again that it wasn't.



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With the dinner basically being a bust, as far as relationship building, the two left the restaurant and started the walk home.  Vita decided to walk with Calypso, even though her place was the opposite direction, because the whole ordeal was still eating away at her.  She wanted to ask him and played different scenarios in her head trying to find the right words.  Vita's intuition was absolutely right about this, because meanwhile, Calypso continued to stew over the trust issues he believed Vita had for him.  If she brought this up and even remotely accused him of something, who knows how he'd react.  All he cared about at this point, was proving to her, someway/somehow, what he was capable of now.

Opportunity rose at the perfect time.

As they passed by an alley, Calypso noticed a group of young men gathered at the start of it and in front of an all-night convenience store, literally doing nothing.  Calypso noticed some of them were enjoying a couple products which could have only come from said convenience store and he stopped in his tracks.  Vita, very puzzled, quickly reached for Calypso's arm but missed it completely.

"Cal!"  She whispered loudly after him.  "What are you doing?!"

Calypso casually strolled up to the crowd and stood just a few feet away in front of the would-be leader.

"Sup?"  Calypso said in a low, stern voice.  Not his Blue Tango voice, by any means, but an authoritative one, for sure.

The group, all talking among themselves, stopped and looked over to him.  A couple of them look confused while a few others laugh.  The leader, we're calling the one in the center surrounded by everyone the leader, looked around at his posse and took a gurgly slurp from his blue frozen drink and licked his lips with a blue tongue.

"Sup?"  He replied.

Calypso took another small step towards the group.

"You guys pay for all that crap?"

Vita, now highly alarmed, stepped between them and started to nudge Calypso back.  A few of them spoke up asking if Calypso was a cop and what business it was of his, but the leader stayed silent and looked down at his drink and back up to Calypso.

"We DID pay for this crap.  What are you?  The night patrol?"

"Cal!  Cal!  What are you doing?!"

Calypso shimmied past Vita and the group closed in around him.

"You're gonna wish I was just the night patrol.  Now, answer the question.  DID you pay for that crap or what?"

The same little weasels from the group still can't contain their laughter and the leader seemed baffled by the question.

"Dude, are you deaf?!  I DID answer the question!"

"Man, you don't have to tell him anything," said one from the background and immediately got shushed.

"We have nothing to hide."

"Can you produce a receipt?"

Vita was powerless in the situation.  Nothing was pulling Calypso away.

"Who the hell keeps a receipt for a slurpy?!  Man, you're crazy.  You need to walk away."

Calypso sighed and placed his hands on his hips.

"You need to stop escalating the situation.  Hand over a receipt and I'll be on my way.  Otherwise, march in there and pay for what you've stolen."

The leader threw his arms up in frustration then handed off the cup to the person next to him.

Reaching around his back he said, "Okay!  I'm done with this, bro!"

Calypso saw this and engaged immediately!

"He's strapped!"

In an instant, the leader is on the ground after Calypso landed a straight, lightning-quick punch crushing his sternum.  His cellphone dropped out of his hand and smacked off the ground; all of this to the great displeasure of the crowd.  Some booed while a couple others got into Calypso's face and started shoving him away, which forced our hero to begin defending himself.  One got a high kick right under the chin to send them soaring back.  Two others got a back fist across the face to cause both of them to lose some blood from their mouth on the pavement.

"Cal!  Calypso!"  Vita shouted!  "Stop!  STOOOP!"

As she stepped in, one of the hoodlums pulled out a knife and backed himself against the window of the store.  Without even thinking about it, she disarmed him and flipped the attacker to the ground.  One tried escaping, but Calypso grabbed an empty soda bottle from the ground and whipped it, striking the fleeing thug in the head and knocking him to the ground!  Calypso then went back to the leader, picked him up by his shirt, and headbutted him in the face bloodying him up, as well.  Vita took notice of this immediately.

"That's enough!  Calypso!  Put him down!"

Calypso held eye contact with his victim, through his blood-splattered face, then tossed him through the convenience store window!  The man inside, presumably the owner, rushed outside to the massacre!

"What are you doing?!  Why you hurt my customers?!  I call police now!"

"We have to get out of here!"

Vita grabbed Calypso by the shirt and it was only now that he submitted and allowed himself to be dragged away.


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Vita shoved Calypso into his cramped apartment, slamming the door behind them with an echoing bang. Her face was flushed red, a mixture of frustration and concern filling her eyes. "WHAT IN THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?"

Calypso stumbled, off-balance from the force of her push, and finally regained his footing. His eyes met Vita's. "What?  Vita I–"

"No!" She cut him off sharply, her finger stabbing the air in his direction. "Don't you 'Vita' me! You barged in there, created chaos out of nothing, and beat those kids senseless. For what, Cal? For WHAT!?"

Calypso squared his shoulders, his height seeming to give him a sense of authority. "They needed to be taught a lesson," he growled, the corner of his lip curling. "They were disrespecting us, the whole neighborhood. You might not have seen it, but I did."

Vita's eyes widened in disbelief. "Teach them a lesson? By resorting to unnecessary violence?!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "This isn't the way, Cal! You can't just go around assaulting people to establish dominance. That's not who we are!"

He took a step towards her, his eyes burning with intensity. "It's a cruel world, Vita. And sometimes you've got to make tough decisions to ensure our place in it. Those thugs, and they were THUGS, were up to no good…  I know it…  I just reminded them of their place."

She stepped back, avoiding his gaze, and whispered, "And in the process, you might've jeopardized ours."

Calypso's eyes flashed with annoyance. "What are you suggesting?  Does me throwing off the kid gloves make you uncomfortable?"

Vita's face hardened, her voice low and intense. "It's not about kid gloves, Cal. It's about our principles. It's about being that beacon of hope in a world where darkness encroaches every corner. We don't exist to punish – we exist to guide, to inspire!"

Calypso laughed bitterly.  "Inspire? Guide? Look around, Vita! The world's gone mad! You think being gentle with thugs is going to change anything?"

Vita took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "It's not just about the thugs, Cal. It's about everyone who's watching. Every child who idolizes us, every person who believes in a better world because of us. We aren't just a duo who brings justice — WE symbolize hope — and to do that, we have to follow the code set forth by the Heroes Guild."

"Code….  CODE!!  Do you remember what living the CODE got everyone else?  They're not living anymore!  If you expect me to make that kind of stupid sacrifice then you're out of your mind.  Fuck the Hero's Guild."

Without warning and with no time to react, Vita viciously backhanded the taste out of Calypso’s mouth!



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Calypso's head snapped to the side, the sharp sound of Vita's palm meeting his face echoing through the room. His eyes, wide in shock, slowly turned back to face hers. A thin streak of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth.

Vita, chest heaving, her hand still raised, glared at him with a fiery intensity. "Don't you EVER disrespect the very institution that gave us our purpose," she hissed.

Calypso touched his lip, feeling the warmth of his blood, and smiled... He slowly straightened, locking eyes with Vita. "That's right," he whispered coldly under his breath.

Vita's gaze didn't waver. "They gave us a framework, a set of principles to ensure that heroes remain heroes and don't turn into the very thing they're fighting against. I believe in that code, Cal. And if you don't, maybe we really shouldn't be working together."

Calypso hesitated, his defiant expression softening slightly. He let out a slow exhale, glancing away from Vita's piercing gaze. He tried to think about the big picture; Doomsayer, Smoker, the city, and, of course, the Tag Team Titles.  The room was thick with tension, the silence only broken by their synchronized breaths.  He knew what had to be done, but Vita was set in her ways.  There was a protocol in taking down maniacal world destroyers.  Regardless of what he thought tonight, he wasn't winning this argument.

"You don't get it," he began slowly, "This world... it's become so much darker. And sometimes, I feel like the rules and regulations hold us back. Like they keep us chained when we need to fight with everything we have."

Vita's stance remained guarded. "The darkness you talk about? It's precisely why we need those rules. We can't let it change us, Cal. If we do, then what difference is there between us and the villains we face?"

Calypso looked away and said nothing."

She saw the internal struggle reflected in his motions. "Cal, the desire to make a difference is noble. But we must always remember the path we take to achieve it. It's easy to get lost when we let our emotions guide us unchecked."

He looked down, his fingers gently caressing the red mark on his cheek. "Maybe you're right," he admitted softly, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "Maybe I let my anger and pride cloud my judgment."

Vita approached him slowly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's not too late to make amends. To stand by the principles that brought us together. But you have to choose, Cal. Every day. To be the hero that this world needs."

Calypso met her gaze, his face unreadable.

Was it genuine realization or a careful calculation?

"You've given me a lot to consider," he said, his voice laced with an ambiguity that left the future of their partnership hanging in the balance.



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Atop one of the tallest buildings in Grand City, a solitary figure stands poised on the precipice, surveying the sprawling metropolis below. It's Atomic Bat, her iconic cape fluttering gracefully in the night breeze, a beacon of hope and resilience. With The Blue Tango nowhere in sight, she stands alone, her unwavering gaze fixed on the distant horizon, ever vigilant against any lurking menace.

Just above her, an XWF Cambot hovers, its advanced lenses honed in on her. The drone maneuvers with precision, ensuring the world gets the most stunning view of the city's guardian

As the Cambot prepares to broadcast, Atomic Bat takes a deep breath, drawing strength from the city she's sworn to protect.

"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of this grand city, and fans tuning in from across the globe, I stand before you alone tonight, but not unaccompanied in spirit. As a symbol of hope, a beacon of righteousness, I bear a responsibility. Usually by my side is The Blue Tango, a hero whose journey of growth and change is nothing short of inspiring. Though he's not here physically, our partnership remains steadfast. Together, even in absence, we hold the most prestigious title in wrestling today—the XWF Tag Team Championships."

"By the time Relentless arrives, The Blue Tango and I will have marked 150 days as the XWF Tag Team Champions, surpassing all present titleholders in the XWF in terms of tenure. Even EDWARD, with his undeniable prowess and spectacle, has worn his Anarchy Championship for nine days fewer than our own. As for the rest? Their achievements pale in comparison. Our tenure speaks of a bond and unity that cannot be broken. Yet, hushed tones suggest our division is waning, devoid of true talent and merely awaiting the emergence of Charlie Nickles' heir and the proclaimed ‘Son of Satan’. They believe they will emerge as champions from the shadows of a dead division."

"Such misguided notions!"

"HOLD FAST! From Notorious Kings, to Intergalactic Duos, from wild Dogs and mighty Lions to Vagabonds and Wanderers, we’ve remained unyielding. To all who have dared, we have always been the steadfast wall. And as Relentless approaches, we will once again rise, ready to confront the ominous beckoning of ‘Hell's Hamper’ and the impending doom that is said to follow."

"Now, when I gaze upon our challengers, HGH and LSM, I'm met with a blend of amusement and disappointment. Here we have HGH, claiming to be the antichrist, the 'son of Satan' no less. Then there's LSM, parading around as one of his foreboding horsemen. And let's not forget their backup: The Thugs? Well, they might just herald the end - the end of the XWF's fandom, that is. Such an unoriginal, dull ensemble! It's almost laughable to think that this motley crew could signify the end of anything, except perhaps decent taste and decent ratings."

"Both HGH and LSM had the world at their fingertips, brimming with potential. But instead of embarking on a noble journey of hard work and resilience, they ventured down a path of gimmicks and theatrical antics. Instead of showcasing genuine talent and proving their mettle, they've chosen to align themselves with characters who are hell-bent, quite literally, on undermining the very essence of our shared ethos."

"They formed a group, promising to be the next big thing in wrestling. They hyped their debut, made grand promises, and built up the anticipation. We all waited, expecting something revolutionary, something groundbreaking. But when the time came... What did we see? A parade of clichés, a mishmash of old tropes repackaged in a new, yet equally uninspired, wrapping. The spectacle they promised turned out to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors, and their so-called 'revolution'? It fizzled before it even began. While they might have promised Armageddon, all they delivered was a whimper. In a world thirsting for genuine talent and authentic champions, they’ve turned out to be just another flash in the pan."

A playful smirk forms on her face.

They showed up, touting themselves as the next great evil, but what did we witness? They 'Shock Mastered' their grand entrance! It was as if someone had scripted a slapstick comedy – they tripped, stumbled, and ended up face-first in the arena of embarrassment as their team lost their debut to a zoo animal! And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse? Sidney Grey, a lone figure, overshadowed their entire sinister act. In a twist of irony, she managed to outmaneuver and out-villain them, showing the world just how amateurish ‘The Left Foot’ truly was. Not only did they fail to establish themselves as the supreme team on Anarchy, but they were also outplayed in their own game of darkness. The message was clear: they were neither the best in skills nor in theatrics. It was a revelation, perhaps, that they're not quite ready for prime time."

"But here we are, right?"

Atomic Bat's playful smirk widened behind her mask. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a look of resolute determination as she straightened up, her posture emanating the iconic authority she'd always been known for.

"Throughout my journey, I've stood toe-to-toe with adversaries who desired nothing more than to see me crumble, to see me broken beneath their heel. The threats, the challenges, the daunting odds — I've faced them all. And The Blue Tango? He's stared into the abyss, confronting challenges that would make the bravest of souls second-guess their resolve. Yet, each time, no matter how dire the circumstance, we didn't falter. We didn't waver. We rose, soaring above our adversaries, showing them, and the world, the indomitable spirit of true heroes. Because, in the end, that's what heroes are made of, resilience in the face of overwhelming odds."

"Neither The Blue Tango nor I were born yesterday. We're acutely aware that stepping into the ring with HGH and LSM means we aren't just preparing for a match — we're gearing up for an all-out war. We haven't overlooked the ever-present shadow of The Thugs, lurking, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. We understand, all too well, the mentality of our opponents: for HGH and LSM, it's not about the honor of the fight, but the endgame. Their thirst for gold isn't about pride or legacy; it's about possession by any means necessary.

But let's not forget, as superheroes, facing overwhelming odds isn't new territory for us. It's practically our day-to-day. We've been cornered, outnumbered, and underestimated more times than I can count. Yet, every time, we've managed to turn the tables. Because here's the thing: we don't need the fight to be fair. We thrive when the odds are stacked against us. We revel in proving naysayers wrong. So, let them bring their tricks, their schemes, their looming threats. We'll face them head-on, stand unwavering beside each other, and ensure that this so-called 'The End' is stopped in its tracks, long before it even starts!"



[Image: 8dDskLd.gif]


Meanwhile…


Another XWF cambot followed Calypso walking alone through the dirty streets.  Any desire to go home and dive back into Starfield didn't even appeal to him now.  He was already in a not so good part of the city and was coming to a crossroads.  He reached the end of the block and went to take the right towards home, but stopped.  He looked to the left, where the street lights were dim, and headed that way instead.  Stores that were open during the day were gated and boarded up.  Graffiti littered almost every square inch of concrete there was.  DIfferent circles of homeless folk gathered around each other; doing whatever and, besides a quick glance, for the most part ignored Calypso as he stomped by.  He ignored whatever they had going on, too.  At this point, he just didn't care.

Whatever Toxicity did to him opened a door.  AB was right about one thing, they didn't know what it was all about, but whatever it was, it was working.  He was stronger, faster, smarter, which made him more confident and a better superhero…  At least that was what he thought.  There hasn't been any negative side effects or anything to alarm them…  So what was the big deal?  The incident outside the convenience store was nothing.  He WANTED to ignore the little stuff, but the constant mentoring from AB turned to lecturing, then turned to him just wanting to prove that they were better than this petty crime crap………  Maybe, Toxicity was actually trying to help them defeat Doomsayer?  She was always all about the secret agendas and maybe Doomer didn't have the control he thought he had over her………  There were too many questions that still needed answered…  And a lot on both of their minds…   

This is where the inner monologue starts:

I can't believe she just can't let that stuff go…  The Hero's Guild…  The Code…  The Code was great when there were more than two of us against an endless army of assholes…  I was all for it at first, too.  The quest I had to embark on to become a "true" superhero.  Earn my wings.  My badge.  All that good stuff.  I was ALL for it.  Until the shit hit the fan, right?

I get the good guy thing.  Not going out there and destroying or taking lives I think is a start, but when there's so much on the line is there really a line that you shouldn't cross?  With Doomsayer looming in the background, us basically waiting for his next move…  What's out of line?  What's out of the question?  What is against the code?  How can we break the rules?  When this duo first started, it was a great idea.  I had nothing better going on and all I had was a cape.  The Atomic Bat really made the Blue Tango mean something.  Something to be proud of and something that a few people nowadays shouldn't bat an eye at.  That carries right over to the Tag Team Titles.

We've had them for months and every month so far has become easier.  I told Ned Kaye when he barked about us leading a dead division that he was completely right.  Weeks have gone by since we defended the straps last against him and King and here we are again…  Two individuals that decided to take their turn.  That's exactly what they are, too.  Just like the last couple we've had.  Not a team.  Not a threat.  Not a thing.

Who do we have?

Harmon Grayson Hays and Latina Submission Machina…  Sigh…

I suppose I'm more disappointed that we just don't have more cats scratching at the door.  We've had the titles forever here and you'd think the smell of blood would just be too overbearing for some out there that they would just have to try and ruin our fun somehow.  We started out as a joke to a lot of people around here and we not only proved those suckers wrong, but doubled down on it.  We've not only defended our titles but have with ease every step of the way.  Not once have I felt threatened against a single duo that's stepped forward to challenge us.  Not once have I ever felt that our titles were in jeopardy.  What does the rabbit pull out of the hat this time?  A Charlie Nickels dreamchild?  Don't make me puke.  That guy can hardly hold it together let alone string two wins together, and now this? 

LSM is a lost cause already because she's forever tainted by relation, but someone give HGH the memo that falling down hurts a lot more with someone on your back.  Whatever silly nonsense that they filled him up with is going to implode when the Blue Tango and Atomic Bat set aside whatever differences they have in the world and focus on the big picture.  Whether it's defending the world we live in and or the one's we wear around our waists, we give 200% each and every time that duty calls.

It's not like they haven't done well for themselves…  Individually.  LSM has some big wins, some big titles.  They've both been Anarchy Champions…  They've done fine by themselves.  Until some big shots come rolling in and steal all their thunder.  They brought the THUGS into whatever little mess that they have brewing, who we've already blown away – easily – and had a match with John Black, which they lost.  Granted, LSM was about to choke out NK, but that's the difference between that "W" and that big ol' "L".  So, maybe ditch John Black in the future… Maybe without him last time you might've escaped with the win, but who knows?  We'll see how they fare this week against a couple of other nobodies.  At the very least they'll be practiced up losing by the time Relentless rolls around.  If they pull out a win, it makes no difference, they've shown they can carry the torch until someone bigger and better comes along…  But at the moment, someone bigger and better is holding it already and we're holding it way too high for either of them to even reach.

People can talk us down all they want.  They can point out the competition and call it weak, call us weak along with it.  The fact of the matter is that we're here and we're waiting for the challenge.  We're waiting for that special team to come out of nowhere and surprise the entire XWF Universe for once with something that will make our awesome, excellent, and on-going Tag Team run something to remember.  Relentless is supposed to be the highlight of the XWF, the main event of main events, yet here we are…  Here we are defending some top XWF gold against another couple of randos that for some reason thought they could take what's ours.  Bunch of crazy fools man.  AB and I have spent a lot of time together in recent months…  We're to the point of any relationship where you're just tired enough of the person that you're both a little on edge and more dangerous than ever before.  That's what's been the greatest part of this journey, ya know?  With each and every defense we're getting waaay better at this.

The cambot actually sails past Calypso as he stopped and looked through a gated off driveway.  It corrected itself and hovered behind him again as he poked his head through the bars.  Up the swirly road toward the top of a hill was a mansion… with plant life growing all around it and through it…



TO BE CONTINUED….
]]> DISTURBING BEHAVIOR





Amid the wild winds that whipped around the top of the Grand City PD's rooftop, Atomic Bat's epic cape fluttered like something out of a comic book splash page. Bathed in moonlight, her face shone all cool and silvery. Those eyes? Oh, they were all kinds of fierce.

With a superhero landing straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster, she touched down, depositing the dazed goons with a thud right in front of Commissioner Jim Jordan. Like, Bam! Justice delivered!

"Evening, Commissioner," she greeted with a tight smile.

Jim eyed the thugs, one nursing a broken nose, the other glaring defiantly, “What’s their story?”

“Attempted ATM theft. You’ll find the machine locked tight inside of a crashed van at the corner of 4th and Main.”

He raised an eyebrow. “ATM theft? Like, the entire machine?”

Under the soft lighting of the rooftop, Atomic Bat shrugged. The bruises on her face hinted at a tough night out in the city. “Thugs are getting wild these days. I’ve heard tales of ‘some’ even going as far as joining Satanic cults for a chance at a larger slice of the criminal pie. What is the world coming to?"

Jim nodded with a grunt as he gave her a once over. “You’ve looked better.”

She touched a swelling on her cheek, wincing. "They were tougher than I expected. Had some heavy fire power on them… It’s only getting more dangerous out there…"

"Where's Tango when you need him? Should've been a breeze with him around," Jim noted, scanning the horizon for the familiar blue figure.

She sighed, "The Blue Tango had... other engagements tonight."

Jim looked at her sharply. “Is everything okay with him? Ever since that incident with Toxicity's cocoon, he’s been giving off an odd vibe...”

Atomic Bat hesitated, but then firmly shook her head. "No, everything's fine, Jim. Tango's just adjusting to his newfound abilities. We'll get a handle on it. Trust me."

The Commissioner gave her a long look, as if contemplating whether to push the matter further.

"Everything alright, Commissioner?"

He took a deep breath and scratched the stubble on his chin.  He said nothing for a few moments, which gave the Atomic Bat a little discomfort.

"Jim?"

"It's nothing.  It's just…  In other districts, late at night, there have been other busts made…  Similar stuff, you know, robberies…  B&E's…  Reports of public disturbances…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it hasn't been you guys has it?"

She was taken aback and looked at Jim with a confused look.

"I'm not sure I understand..."

"Well, these poor bastards aren't found nice and tidy like this with bows on their heads like you usually leave them.  They're found with broken limbs, faces, ruptured organs…  beaten to near death." 

Atomic Bat took a moment before answering, her eyes betraying a flicker of emotion. “Jim, you’ve known me for a long time. You know I always bring them in in one piece. My goal has always been justice, not revenge or… brutality."

"There were some where nothing was even reported.  We just show up and the only apparent crime is the massacre that we walk up to."

She couldn't help but look away.  As if they didn't have enough on their hands, now this?

"I'll get to the bottom of it, Jim.  Whoever is behind this brutal form of 'justice', I'll find them.  You know you can trust me."

There's a long silence between them before Atomic Bat forces eye contact with him again.

"Jim?"

Sighing once more, he managed to allow a faint smile through, "Of course.  I trust you, Atomic Bat.  I trust you."

"Appreciated, Commissioner," Atomic Bat replied, forcing a smile back before launching herself into the air with her cape billowing behind her. 

As she soared through the night sky, Jim's words echoed through her head.

... I trust you, Atomic Bat.  I trust…  You.


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Across the city, in what must be a high-tech lair hidden behind the facade of an ordinary apartment, Calypso sat on a recliner, a bag of chips in one hand, an Xbox controller in the other. The room was awash with the glow of multiple monitors displaying maps, algorithms, and, at this very moment, the game Starfield on the main screen.

It looked like he hadn't moved in days, nor bathed.  His five o'clock shadow grew into a near-full beard within a few days and the few remaining hairs on his head were a mess.  Reaching for another handful of chips, his gaze landed on a picture frame by his gaming setup. It was a snapshot of him and Atomic Bat, arms around each other, all smiles. For a moment, his grin faltered.

His eyes darted to another screen displaying a news feed. "ATM Robbery Foiled: Atomic Bat Takes Down Thugs." The headline was followed by an image of the two thugs she had captured, looking battered and cuffed.

"Chump change.  Call me when we need to bring out the big guns," he mused, his expression hard to read.

He indulged back into the game, but not for long before there was a knock at his door.  He removed the headset from one side of his head and listened, and there it was again. 

Not expecting visitors, he slowly crept toward the door, grabbing a police baton along the way and held it tightly and high above his head.  He slowly and quietly unlocked the door and swung it open to see Vita standing in the doorway!

“Vita?”  The light in the hallway nearly blinded him.  He took a step back and shielded his eyes with his free hand as Vita casually walked into the apartment.  He dropped the baton on the countertop and slammed the door behind his partner then followed her into the TV room.  She turned on a couple of standing lamps, which blinded him as well, and looked around at the room.  After a moment's thought, she decided to stand rather than clear a place to sit.

"Didn't expect to see you here. Did you make a break in the Doomsayer case?"

She looked up at him and took notice of the dark circles around his eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Um… No, I just thought I'd swing by," she said casually, her gaze looking over his shoulder to the chaos of his apartment. "Everything alright? You've been kinda MIA lately."

He shrugged and entered the room, still adjusting to the lights. "I've just been collecting my thoughts, that's all.  After that last run-in with Toxicity, I've felt great, but haven't really wanted to waste my energy, I guess?  L-O-L."

Vita continued to stand in place, almost nervously, and occasionally gave a glance around the room then back to Calypso.

"Sooooo..  Was this just a wellness check, or what?  Hehe.  Have you seen Starfield?  It's fantastic."

She bit her lip, thinking of the perfect alibi. "Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd see how you're doing." She paused, "And maybe grab a bite to eat together?"

Calypso raised an eyebrow and pointed at the open bag of chips on the couch. "Not really hungry."

She smirked, "My treat?"

"Hmm," his darkened eyes squinted further as he stood in deep thought.

"There's a new Vegan BBQ place that just opened up a few blocks from here."

His eyes widened in interest, and a slow smile spread across his face, "They have tofu skewers?"

"They're famous for them."

"You should've led with 'Vegan BBQ'.  Why are we still standing here?"

He quickly grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair and rushed for the door.  Vita quickly grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

"NOT before you get a shower, dude."



[Image: 8dDskLd.gif]


As they walked side by side, it was evident that despite whatever issues Calypso was facing, they shared a deeper connection. The kind you'd expect from two who've spent countless nights watching over a city, even if neither admitted it out loud.

Vita stole a glance at Calypso, the moonlight catching the edges of his face. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes, a change of scenery and good company can do wonders."

He looked over and smirked, "I can't argue that some fresh air wasn't a bad idea.  And I don't think I've seen or spoken to another human-being in a couple of days."

Calypso realized after saying it out loud how pathetic it kind of sounded, but shrugged it off.  They both let out a short uncomfortable laugh and continued towards the BBQ place down the street.

Vita noticed small changes in Calypso's character, which made her nervous about what Commissioner Jordan mentioned earlier.  It was hard enough keeping him focused under the Hero's Guild, but after it fell?  It was like the rules and everything they stood for before were slowly starting to shed away.  Then after he was captured and went through whatever mutation in Toxicity's cocoon, they were gone…  But he was hiding it.

"I, uh, missed you on that call earlier," she finally said out loud.

"The ATM one?"

"Yeah, that one," she paused, "The only one."

"My bad!  I figured I'd, maybe, stick back in case some other trouble stirred up, ya know?  Why send all the troops to one place, right?"

"I can understand that.  It's just, we're a team, remember?  The Dynamic Duo!  The pair you wouldn't dare cross!  The last of the Hero's Guild!  We're hardly any of those when only one of us shows up."

Calypso scoffed and rolled his eyes just a little.

"Okay, I get it, but I think at this point we're wasting fire power."

"Fire power?  Cal, you don't know what kind of powers you have.  You don't know if they're going to last, or how long, or what they even are!  We're treading in deep waters here just assuming that something you gained from one of our greatest nemeses is a good thing!  This is not the business to be optimistic-"

"I think you're being under-mistic about the whole thing."

"It's pessimistic, and I'm not!  I'm being REAListic and safe!  In case you've forgotten, we barely escaped with our lives last time.  We HAVE to be more cautious out there, man, or one of us is totally going to get hurt."

Calypso sighed and kicked a few stones on his way by.  His frustration showed.  Why didn't Vita STILL not have any faith in him?  Why couldn't she trust him?  They've been Tag Team Champions for months and they've been fighting crime together longer than that.  She claims they're a team…  Partners…  But all he's ever felt like is her mere sidekick.

The two of them didn't say much the rest of the way to the restaurant and even while they were there.  They didn't eat in silence, but the conversation never really got further than a few comments about their food, which Calypso mostly replied with "Uh-huh's".  She wanted to bring up what Commissioner Jordan had mentioned earlier about the brutal busts across the city, but she wanted to be sure it was the right time.  Whatever power was surging through her partner's body right now wasn't something that was agreeing with logic…  and her simply asking him about it may trigger something…  especially if it was him, which she prayed over and over again that it wasn't.



[Image: 8dDskLd.gif]


With the dinner basically being a bust, as far as relationship building, the two left the restaurant and started the walk home.  Vita decided to walk with Calypso, even though her place was the opposite direction, because the whole ordeal was still eating away at her.  She wanted to ask him and played different scenarios in her head trying to find the right words.  Vita's intuition was absolutely right about this, because meanwhile, Calypso continued to stew over the trust issues he believed Vita had for him.  If she brought this up and even remotely accused him of something, who knows how he'd react.  All he cared about at this point, was proving to her, someway/somehow, what he was capable of now.

Opportunity rose at the perfect time.

As they passed by an alley, Calypso noticed a group of young men gathered at the start of it and in front of an all-night convenience store, literally doing nothing.  Calypso noticed some of them were enjoying a couple products which could have only come from said convenience store and he stopped in his tracks.  Vita, very puzzled, quickly reached for Calypso's arm but missed it completely.

"Cal!"  She whispered loudly after him.  "What are you doing?!"

Calypso casually strolled up to the crowd and stood just a few feet away in front of the would-be leader.

"Sup?"  Calypso said in a low, stern voice.  Not his Blue Tango voice, by any means, but an authoritative one, for sure.

The group, all talking among themselves, stopped and looked over to him.  A couple of them look confused while a few others laugh.  The leader, we're calling the one in the center surrounded by everyone the leader, looked around at his posse and took a gurgly slurp from his blue frozen drink and licked his lips with a blue tongue.

"Sup?"  He replied.

Calypso took another small step towards the group.

"You guys pay for all that crap?"

Vita, now highly alarmed, stepped between them and started to nudge Calypso back.  A few of them spoke up asking if Calypso was a cop and what business it was of his, but the leader stayed silent and looked down at his drink and back up to Calypso.

"We DID pay for this crap.  What are you?  The night patrol?"

"Cal!  Cal!  What are you doing?!"

Calypso shimmied past Vita and the group closed in around him.

"You're gonna wish I was just the night patrol.  Now, answer the question.  DID you pay for that crap or what?"

The same little weasels from the group still can't contain their laughter and the leader seemed baffled by the question.

"Dude, are you deaf?!  I DID answer the question!"

"Man, you don't have to tell him anything," said one from the background and immediately got shushed.

"We have nothing to hide."

"Can you produce a receipt?"

Vita was powerless in the situation.  Nothing was pulling Calypso away.

"Who the hell keeps a receipt for a slurpy?!  Man, you're crazy.  You need to walk away."

Calypso sighed and placed his hands on his hips.

"You need to stop escalating the situation.  Hand over a receipt and I'll be on my way.  Otherwise, march in there and pay for what you've stolen."

The leader threw his arms up in frustration then handed off the cup to the person next to him.

Reaching around his back he said, "Okay!  I'm done with this, bro!"

Calypso saw this and engaged immediately!

"He's strapped!"

In an instant, the leader is on the ground after Calypso landed a straight, lightning-quick punch crushing his sternum.  His cellphone dropped out of his hand and smacked off the ground; all of this to the great displeasure of the crowd.  Some booed while a couple others got into Calypso's face and started shoving him away, which forced our hero to begin defending himself.  One got a high kick right under the chin to send them soaring back.  Two others got a back fist across the face to cause both of them to lose some blood from their mouth on the pavement.

"Cal!  Calypso!"  Vita shouted!  "Stop!  STOOOP!"

As she stepped in, one of the hoodlums pulled out a knife and backed himself against the window of the store.  Without even thinking about it, she disarmed him and flipped the attacker to the ground.  One tried escaping, but Calypso grabbed an empty soda bottle from the ground and whipped it, striking the fleeing thug in the head and knocking him to the ground!  Calypso then went back to the leader, picked him up by his shirt, and headbutted him in the face bloodying him up, as well.  Vita took notice of this immediately.

"That's enough!  Calypso!  Put him down!"

Calypso held eye contact with his victim, through his blood-splattered face, then tossed him through the convenience store window!  The man inside, presumably the owner, rushed outside to the massacre!

"What are you doing?!  Why you hurt my customers?!  I call police now!"

"We have to get out of here!"

Vita grabbed Calypso by the shirt and it was only now that he submitted and allowed himself to be dragged away.


[Image: 8dDskLd.gif]


Vita shoved Calypso into his cramped apartment, slamming the door behind them with an echoing bang. Her face was flushed red, a mixture of frustration and concern filling her eyes. "WHAT IN THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?"

Calypso stumbled, off-balance from the force of her push, and finally regained his footing. His eyes met Vita's. "What?  Vita I–"

"No!" She cut him off sharply, her finger stabbing the air in his direction. "Don't you 'Vita' me! You barged in there, created chaos out of nothing, and beat those kids senseless. For what, Cal? For WHAT!?"

Calypso squared his shoulders, his height seeming to give him a sense of authority. "They needed to be taught a lesson," he growled, the corner of his lip curling. "They were disrespecting us, the whole neighborhood. You might not have seen it, but I did."

Vita's eyes widened in disbelief. "Teach them a lesson? By resorting to unnecessary violence?!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "This isn't the way, Cal! You can't just go around assaulting people to establish dominance. That's not who we are!"

He took a step towards her, his eyes burning with intensity. "It's a cruel world, Vita. And sometimes you've got to make tough decisions to ensure our place in it. Those thugs, and they were THUGS, were up to no good…  I know it…  I just reminded them of their place."

She stepped back, avoiding his gaze, and whispered, "And in the process, you might've jeopardized ours."

Calypso's eyes flashed with annoyance. "What are you suggesting?  Does me throwing off the kid gloves make you uncomfortable?"

Vita's face hardened, her voice low and intense. "It's not about kid gloves, Cal. It's about our principles. It's about being that beacon of hope in a world where darkness encroaches every corner. We don't exist to punish – we exist to guide, to inspire!"

Calypso laughed bitterly.  "Inspire? Guide? Look around, Vita! The world's gone mad! You think being gentle with thugs is going to change anything?"

Vita took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "It's not just about the thugs, Cal. It's about everyone who's watching. Every child who idolizes us, every person who believes in a better world because of us. We aren't just a duo who brings justice — WE symbolize hope — and to do that, we have to follow the code set forth by the Heroes Guild."

"Code….  CODE!!  Do you remember what living the CODE got everyone else?  They're not living anymore!  If you expect me to make that kind of stupid sacrifice then you're out of your mind.  Fuck the Hero's Guild."

Without warning and with no time to react, Vita viciously backhanded the taste out of Calypso’s mouth!



[Image: tt.gif]


Calypso's head snapped to the side, the sharp sound of Vita's palm meeting his face echoing through the room. His eyes, wide in shock, slowly turned back to face hers. A thin streak of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth.

Vita, chest heaving, her hand still raised, glared at him with a fiery intensity. "Don't you EVER disrespect the very institution that gave us our purpose," she hissed.

Calypso touched his lip, feeling the warmth of his blood, and smiled... He slowly straightened, locking eyes with Vita. "That's right," he whispered coldly under his breath.

Vita's gaze didn't waver. "They gave us a framework, a set of principles to ensure that heroes remain heroes and don't turn into the very thing they're fighting against. I believe in that code, Cal. And if you don't, maybe we really shouldn't be working together."

Calypso hesitated, his defiant expression softening slightly. He let out a slow exhale, glancing away from Vita's piercing gaze. He tried to think about the big picture; Doomsayer, Smoker, the city, and, of course, the Tag Team Titles.  The room was thick with tension, the silence only broken by their synchronized breaths.  He knew what had to be done, but Vita was set in her ways.  There was a protocol in taking down maniacal world destroyers.  Regardless of what he thought tonight, he wasn't winning this argument.

"You don't get it," he began slowly, "This world... it's become so much darker. And sometimes, I feel like the rules and regulations hold us back. Like they keep us chained when we need to fight with everything we have."

Vita's stance remained guarded. "The darkness you talk about? It's precisely why we need those rules. We can't let it change us, Cal. If we do, then what difference is there between us and the villains we face?"

Calypso looked away and said nothing."

She saw the internal struggle reflected in his motions. "Cal, the desire to make a difference is noble. But we must always remember the path we take to achieve it. It's easy to get lost when we let our emotions guide us unchecked."

He looked down, his fingers gently caressing the red mark on his cheek. "Maybe you're right," he admitted softly, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "Maybe I let my anger and pride cloud my judgment."

Vita approached him slowly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's not too late to make amends. To stand by the principles that brought us together. But you have to choose, Cal. Every day. To be the hero that this world needs."

Calypso met her gaze, his face unreadable.

Was it genuine realization or a careful calculation?

"You've given me a lot to consider," he said, his voice laced with an ambiguity that left the future of their partnership hanging in the balance.



[Image: 8dDskLd.gif]


Atop one of the tallest buildings in Grand City, a solitary figure stands poised on the precipice, surveying the sprawling metropolis below. It's Atomic Bat, her iconic cape fluttering gracefully in the night breeze, a beacon of hope and resilience. With The Blue Tango nowhere in sight, she stands alone, her unwavering gaze fixed on the distant horizon, ever vigilant against any lurking menace.

Just above her, an XWF Cambot hovers, its advanced lenses honed in on her. The drone maneuvers with precision, ensuring the world gets the most stunning view of the city's guardian

As the Cambot prepares to broadcast, Atomic Bat takes a deep breath, drawing strength from the city she's sworn to protect.

"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of this grand city, and fans tuning in from across the globe, I stand before you alone tonight, but not unaccompanied in spirit. As a symbol of hope, a beacon of righteousness, I bear a responsibility. Usually by my side is The Blue Tango, a hero whose journey of growth and change is nothing short of inspiring. Though he's not here physically, our partnership remains steadfast. Together, even in absence, we hold the most prestigious title in wrestling today—the XWF Tag Team Championships."

"By the time Relentless arrives, The Blue Tango and I will have marked 150 days as the XWF Tag Team Champions, surpassing all present titleholders in the XWF in terms of tenure. Even EDWARD, with his undeniable prowess and spectacle, has worn his Anarchy Championship for nine days fewer than our own. As for the rest? Their achievements pale in comparison. Our tenure speaks of a bond and unity that cannot be broken. Yet, hushed tones suggest our division is waning, devoid of true talent and merely awaiting the emergence of Charlie Nickles' heir and the proclaimed ‘Son of Satan’. They believe they will emerge as champions from the shadows of a dead division."

"Such misguided notions!"

"HOLD FAST! From Notorious Kings, to Intergalactic Duos, from wild Dogs and mighty Lions to Vagabonds and Wanderers, we’ve remained unyielding. To all who have dared, we have always been the steadfast wall. And as Relentless approaches, we will once again rise, ready to confront the ominous beckoning of ‘Hell's Hamper’ and the impending doom that is said to follow."

"Now, when I gaze upon our challengers, HGH and LSM, I'm met with a blend of amusement and disappointment. Here we have HGH, claiming to be the antichrist, the 'son of Satan' no less. Then there's LSM, parading around as one of his foreboding horsemen. And let's not forget their backup: The Thugs? Well, they might just herald the end - the end of the XWF's fandom, that is. Such an unoriginal, dull ensemble! It's almost laughable to think that this motley crew could signify the end of anything, except perhaps decent taste and decent ratings."

"Both HGH and LSM had the world at their fingertips, brimming with potential. But instead of embarking on a noble journey of hard work and resilience, they ventured down a path of gimmicks and theatrical antics. Instead of showcasing genuine talent and proving their mettle, they've chosen to align themselves with characters who are hell-bent, quite literally, on undermining the very essence of our shared ethos."

"They formed a group, promising to be the next big thing in wrestling. They hyped their debut, made grand promises, and built up the anticipation. We all waited, expecting something revolutionary, something groundbreaking. But when the time came... What did we see? A parade of clichés, a mishmash of old tropes repackaged in a new, yet equally uninspired, wrapping. The spectacle they promised turned out to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors, and their so-called 'revolution'? It fizzled before it even began. While they might have promised Armageddon, all they delivered was a whimper. In a world thirsting for genuine talent and authentic champions, they’ve turned out to be just another flash in the pan."

A playful smirk forms on her face.

They showed up, touting themselves as the next great evil, but what did we witness? They 'Shock Mastered' their grand entrance! It was as if someone had scripted a slapstick comedy – they tripped, stumbled, and ended up face-first in the arena of embarrassment as their team lost their debut to a zoo animal! And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse? Sidney Grey, a lone figure, overshadowed their entire sinister act. In a twist of irony, she managed to outmaneuver and out-villain them, showing the world just how amateurish ‘The Left Foot’ truly was. Not only did they fail to establish themselves as the supreme team on Anarchy, but they were also outplayed in their own game of darkness. The message was clear: they were neither the best in skills nor in theatrics. It was a revelation, perhaps, that they're not quite ready for prime time."

"But here we are, right?"

Atomic Bat's playful smirk widened behind her mask. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a look of resolute determination as she straightened up, her posture emanating the iconic authority she'd always been known for.

"Throughout my journey, I've stood toe-to-toe with adversaries who desired nothing more than to see me crumble, to see me broken beneath their heel. The threats, the challenges, the daunting odds — I've faced them all. And The Blue Tango? He's stared into the abyss, confronting challenges that would make the bravest of souls second-guess their resolve. Yet, each time, no matter how dire the circumstance, we didn't falter. We didn't waver. We rose, soaring above our adversaries, showing them, and the world, the indomitable spirit of true heroes. Because, in the end, that's what heroes are made of, resilience in the face of overwhelming odds."

"Neither The Blue Tango nor I were born yesterday. We're acutely aware that stepping into the ring with HGH and LSM means we aren't just preparing for a match — we're gearing up for an all-out war. We haven't overlooked the ever-present shadow of The Thugs, lurking, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. We understand, all too well, the mentality of our opponents: for HGH and LSM, it's not about the honor of the fight, but the endgame. Their thirst for gold isn't about pride or legacy; it's about possession by any means necessary.

But let's not forget, as superheroes, facing overwhelming odds isn't new territory for us. It's practically our day-to-day. We've been cornered, outnumbered, and underestimated more times than I can count. Yet, every time, we've managed to turn the tables. Because here's the thing: we don't need the fight to be fair. We thrive when the odds are stacked against us. We revel in proving naysayers wrong. So, let them bring their tricks, their schemes, their looming threats. We'll face them head-on, stand unwavering beside each other, and ensure that this so-called 'The End' is stopped in its tracks, long before it even starts!"



[Image: 8dDskLd.gif]


Meanwhile…


Another XWF cambot followed Calypso walking alone through the dirty streets.  Any desire to go home and dive back into Starfield didn't even appeal to him now.  He was already in a not so good part of the city and was coming to a crossroads.  He reached the end of the block and went to take the right towards home, but stopped.  He looked to the left, where the street lights were dim, and headed that way instead.  Stores that were open during the day were gated and boarded up.  Graffiti littered almost every square inch of concrete there was.  DIfferent circles of homeless folk gathered around each other; doing whatever and, besides a quick glance, for the most part ignored Calypso as he stomped by.  He ignored whatever they had going on, too.  At this point, he just didn't care.

Whatever Toxicity did to him opened a door.  AB was right about one thing, they didn't know what it was all about, but whatever it was, it was working.  He was stronger, faster, smarter, which made him more confident and a better superhero…  At least that was what he thought.  There hasn't been any negative side effects or anything to alarm them…  So what was the big deal?  The incident outside the convenience store was nothing.  He WANTED to ignore the little stuff, but the constant mentoring from AB turned to lecturing, then turned to him just wanting to prove that they were better than this petty crime crap………  Maybe, Toxicity was actually trying to help them defeat Doomsayer?  She was always all about the secret agendas and maybe Doomer didn't have the control he thought he had over her………  There were too many questions that still needed answered…  And a lot on both of their minds…   

This is where the inner monologue starts:

I can't believe she just can't let that stuff go…  The Hero's Guild…  The Code…  The Code was great when there were more than two of us against an endless army of assholes…  I was all for it at first, too.  The quest I had to embark on to become a "true" superhero.  Earn my wings.  My badge.  All that good stuff.  I was ALL for it.  Until the shit hit the fan, right?

I get the good guy thing.  Not going out there and destroying or taking lives I think is a start, but when there's so much on the line is there really a line that you shouldn't cross?  With Doomsayer looming in the background, us basically waiting for his next move…  What's out of line?  What's out of the question?  What is against the code?  How can we break the rules?  When this duo first started, it was a great idea.  I had nothing better going on and all I had was a cape.  The Atomic Bat really made the Blue Tango mean something.  Something to be proud of and something that a few people nowadays shouldn't bat an eye at.  That carries right over to the Tag Team Titles.

We've had them for months and every month so far has become easier.  I told Ned Kaye when he barked about us leading a dead division that he was completely right.  Weeks have gone by since we defended the straps last against him and King and here we are again…  Two individuals that decided to take their turn.  That's exactly what they are, too.  Just like the last couple we've had.  Not a team.  Not a threat.  Not a thing.

Who do we have?

Harmon Grayson Hays and Latina Submission Machina…  Sigh…

I suppose I'm more disappointed that we just don't have more cats scratching at the door.  We've had the titles forever here and you'd think the smell of blood would just be too overbearing for some out there that they would just have to try and ruin our fun somehow.  We started out as a joke to a lot of people around here and we not only proved those suckers wrong, but doubled down on it.  We've not only defended our titles but have with ease every step of the way.  Not once have I felt threatened against a single duo that's stepped forward to challenge us.  Not once have I ever felt that our titles were in jeopardy.  What does the rabbit pull out of the hat this time?  A Charlie Nickels dreamchild?  Don't make me puke.  That guy can hardly hold it together let alone string two wins together, and now this? 

LSM is a lost cause already because she's forever tainted by relation, but someone give HGH the memo that falling down hurts a lot more with someone on your back.  Whatever silly nonsense that they filled him up with is going to implode when the Blue Tango and Atomic Bat set aside whatever differences they have in the world and focus on the big picture.  Whether it's defending the world we live in and or the one's we wear around our waists, we give 200% each and every time that duty calls.

It's not like they haven't done well for themselves…  Individually.  LSM has some big wins, some big titles.  They've both been Anarchy Champions…  They've done fine by themselves.  Until some big shots come rolling in and steal all their thunder.  They brought the THUGS into whatever little mess that they have brewing, who we've already blown away – easily – and had a match with John Black, which they lost.  Granted, LSM was about to choke out NK, but that's the difference between that "W" and that big ol' "L".  So, maybe ditch John Black in the future… Maybe without him last time you might've escaped with the win, but who knows?  We'll see how they fare this week against a couple of other nobodies.  At the very least they'll be practiced up losing by the time Relentless rolls around.  If they pull out a win, it makes no difference, they've shown they can carry the torch until someone bigger and better comes along…  But at the moment, someone bigger and better is holding it already and we're holding it way too high for either of them to even reach.

People can talk us down all they want.  They can point out the competition and call it weak, call us weak along with it.  The fact of the matter is that we're here and we're waiting for the challenge.  We're waiting for that special team to come out of nowhere and surprise the entire XWF Universe for once with something that will make our awesome, excellent, and on-going Tag Team run something to remember.  Relentless is supposed to be the highlight of the XWF, the main event of main events, yet here we are…  Here we are defending some top XWF gold against another couple of randos that for some reason thought they could take what's ours.  Bunch of crazy fools man.  AB and I have spent a lot of time together in recent months…  We're to the point of any relationship where you're just tired enough of the person that you're both a little on edge and more dangerous than ever before.  That's what's been the greatest part of this journey, ya know?  With each and every defense we're getting waaay better at this.

The cambot actually sails past Calypso as he stopped and looked through a gated off driveway.  It corrected itself and hovered behind him again as he poked his head through the bars.  Up the swirly road toward the top of a hill was a mansion… with plant life growing all around it and through it…



TO BE CONTINUED….
]]> <![CDATA[Straight to Hell]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46868 Thu, 14 Sep 2023 23:50:55 -0700 Dionysus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46868
I don't really like talking about my dreams.

Not with Dr. Elbrook. Not with The Many Faces.

Not even with my own mother when I was a child.

If I had a nightmare, I kept it to myself. I would scream, of course; who can help it at that age? But if I was asked, I would just say it was a cramp, or a charlie horse, or even nothing at all. It isn't because I didn't want to share what my nightmares were.

It was because I didn't know what people would think after I told them.

[Image: 1Y9m.gif]

I woke up with a start. Staring into a blank, empty void of space. The surface beneath me was solid, and looking down I could at least see my body. I turned around, frantically looking for any sign of light. Slowly, out of the corner of my eye, a hue of purple began to glow. I turned to face it...and a familiar figure stood before me.

I say "figure" because until this day, I was unaware of who this person even was. Sometimes it was multiple people. Other times it would simply be a reflection of myself. But this one...this one figure I saw the most. Adorned in a robe, holding a staff wrapped in brambles, and wearing a mask under a hood. With the room being so dark, the porcelain white face was much more prominent. "What do you want?" I asked the figure. "What do you want from me?"

But no answer came. As always.

"Tell me!" I shouted, even though I knew it was fruitless. The figure walked backward into the darkness, its features now obscured by the void, aside from the lone white mask. A finger protruded from the shadows and pointed over my shoulder. I slowly turned to look, seeing nothing behind me. Confused, I took two steps forward...

One...

Two...

And then...falling.

I didn't scream. I didn't feel the need to. I was falling into void. Even as I reached out to the side, I felt nothing next to me. There was a loud snap, and suddenly I was lurched in another direction, following a long rope. While staring at it, the porcelain face looked back at me. We fell together, both unafraid, both knowing what would come to pass.

The rope led toward a red mass. Our falling began to slow.

I saw the top of a man's head.

I saw the man's face. Devin's face. His eyes wild. His tongue hanging loosely out of his mouth, which was twisted into a wicked grin.

Then I fell past the loop around his neck.

All in a manner of a few seconds, I saw another loved one, dead and swinging.

Another loud snap. I lurched again, falling toward what looked like a feeding frenzy. A number of strange and fantastical beasts all gathered around an undistinguishable figure...at least from this distance. But I knew what was coming. This was not a dream I was unfamiliar with by now.

As we drew closer, two beasts were fighting over a gnawed-off leg. The cracking of bone and tearing of muscle and flesh rang in my ears as we fell. Three of the beasts tore into a chest cavity, allowing themselves a moment to howl in approval. The remains sprayed around the frenzy as we fell past. And staring back at me was the face of Wide Dio, eyes wide with terror and his mouth stuffed with an apple. As though he were served as an Easter dinner.

Another snap. More falling. This time I felt like I was falling upward. I felt my stomach twist itself into knots. I retched as I fell from the constant shifting as vertigo began to settle in. This time there were only flames. It was almost as if I were bathed in it, though I could feel no heat coming from them. The flames slowly formed into the shape of a body, arms outstretched facing downward. While I could not feel the heat of the flame, the smell of burning flesh and hair still crawled through my nostrils. Without even needing to look, I had a feeling that the body I was now looking at was Daniel's.

The dream itself was always the same. A loved one hanged. A loved one devoured. A love one burned alive.

And then the laughter came.

This laughter was different from the voices I heard in my waking. No, this laugh was purposeful. Not maniacal, but methodical. Practiced. Rehearsed. Deliberate.

I stopped falling. I felt my feet touch hard surface once more. I stumbled to a knee, the momentum carrying me as I tried stopping myself with my hands. I pushed myself off the floor...and the porcelain face was no more than an inch from my face. I could hear the laughter coming from behind me. It was a laugh I was all too familiar with. The porcelain face slowly vanished...replaced by the familiar red and blue lights of a police interceptor.

I turned to face the laughter. Standing before me was the silhouette of the man who nearly ruined not only my life, but my family's lives as well. Adorned in a tailored black suit, he paired it with a wide brim fedora. His head was looking down in a feeble attempt to hide his face. His arms were outstretched, one holding onto an aluminum baseball bat. To the rest of the waking world, this man was nothing more than a modern criminal.

But to me, he may as well have been the devil himself.

[Image: Anton.jpg]

I could see him start to walk toward me, though it seemed like he was not moving at all. Rather, the world around him was moving on his behalf. Each step flashed an image of each of my now dead brothers...the ones in this dream, anyhow. I blinked, trying to shake the images from my mind...but no relief came. Eventually he stopped, standing one meter away from me. "It has been some time...has it not?" He stated slowly and with conviction.

I said nothing. No words would ever escape my lips...or at least, I tried to. "This is only a dream," I said aloud. "This is only a dream...this is only a dream..."

"...Indeed," He confirmed. "And yet you continue to return here, knowing the pain it causes you." The man lifted his head, revealing the porcelain face at first. Then, in a flash and another crack, the mask was gone...leaving a gaunt-looking man with a clean-shaven face. Otherwise indistinguishable, the only identifying mark was a leather eyepatch adorned with a silver rose. His smile revealed a set of crooked teeth, two gold crowns offset within his mouth. "Do you think that I wish to do this to you, in this place? To haunt you for all eternity?" He chuckled as he asked his rhetorical question.

"You have had plenty of opportunity to leave my nightmares...but still you remain," I retorted. "I have half a mind to-"

"Aha! There it is!" He exclaimed. "That never-say-die attitude that drove me to madness. Your father had it too, you know." I could feel my hands clench into fists. He noticed, wagging his finger in my direction. "Now now. What will fighting me in here get you? You bested me in a dream? Good for you. I still came back, did I not? And I always will...so long as you continue to hold me in your heart..."

"...Dear Nephew..."

As I said before. To me, this man may as well be the devil himself.

But to the rest of the world...this was Anton Heedon. Con artist. embezzler. The man who nearly destroyed my family.

...And also...my uncle.

Hi ho.

Hi ho.

Its off to Hell we go.

...Forgive me; I'm not much of a whistler.

This could easily be the most unique locale I've had the pleasure of competing in. Or it would, if pleasure meant unbearable heat and hearing the sounds of the lost and the damned constantly ring in your ear. Although I have traveled to Tuscon, Arizona before...

Regardless, wherever I compete, whether it is a small gymnasium or a sold-out capacity stadium, I never really felt imposed by the surroundings of a place. Perhaps that is just the natural performer in me; I'm there to complete a task and move on my merry way. And perhaps catch the sights in my free time. Though I highly doubt they are offering guided tours of the nine circles...nor is Dante around to gush over how much of a self-insert fanboy he is to the hell mythos. And yet, "self-insert" is a quite proper description of Slade Durant. A self-described, self-important competitor who has made it his undying mission to end the machinations of one man and one man alone...at the expense of letting his one goal prevent him from any kind of upward mobility.

Slade, you and I both know that revenge is a dish best served cold. And for good reason. A warm meal is meant to be comforting, reminiscent of mother's meatloaf. A dish that is cold is typically left unattended, with disinterest and possibly gathering flies. In other words, unappealing and not at all desired by the recipient. However, with this single-minded goal of yours, that dish can only be enjoyed once. Consider, for a moment; you are standing above your greatest rival, your most hated enemy. And you deliver the exact kind of revenge that you want to bring.

...What happens then?

Is it coming up with flimsy justification to pursue a new target of your revenge? Is it hanging the boots up and calling it a career? Is it putting all other opportunity aside and only stay the course of your plans? Revenge is only a good plan if you intend on actually acting on it, and often. It isn't enough to get your come-uppance; you have to also drive the point home, leaving no room to question, until they yield. Left unattended, that dish will grow mold and rot, becoming useless to you as it festers deep down inside.

See, that's the difference between you and I. This isn't a matter of who is good and who is evil. This is a matter of who has the most conviction. You are entering in this match with a single-minded goal of gaining petty revenge. I am entering into this match with the intention of not only retaining, but retaining in a glorious fashion. Which brings us now to the match stipulation.

Now you may be wondering, "Well Dionysus, what kind of convoluted scheme of a match are you going to do this time? A Lava-Chugging Match?" And the thought had crossed my mind of having more elaborate contraptions in spectacular and bizarre fashion. Perhaps a chariot race where the winner is determined by who is thrown off their vehicle. Or perhaps an Aggro-Crag style climb to the top of a mountain where the loser is the one thrown from the summit.

Then I remembered. We're in Hell.

And nothing would bring me more joy...than bringing you, Slade Durant, into The Devil's Playground.

Unlike the past few matches, this structure is quite simple; a steel cage at half the height, surrounded by a cell. Weapons of all kinds strewn on the outside of the ring, within the cell. A good old fashioned beatdown, where victory is only achieved through knockout. Such a brutal style of match is perfect for the setting. Imagine it; the combat taking place as gouts of hellfire and smoke billow from the cavernous walls. But of course, there must be a good reason why I would pick this kind of match for you, right?

...In truth, you did not even come up as a thought.

What I am looking for in this division is competition. This is not a secret to anyone. I don't want someone to just come and take this title from me. I want them to earn it. I want them to have to fight tooth and nail, to reach my level, and earn it. In order for the person who manages to defeat me to earn the Television Title, they will need the same desire I have. You and I do not share that desire. So put simply, this match is your punishment. It is strictly designed for a beatdown. A bloody, messy massacre.

I want you to know that specifically, Slade. I didn't make this for fun. I made this to work out some frustrations. So as a kindness, I must inform you that these next few days are going to be extremely important for you. You have some really critical decisions to make. And the first decision you should really consider is conceding prior to the match. Because I'm not going to hold back. I can't guarantee what is going to happen to you. There is no promise of your safety...or anything, for that matter. So you really should just consider the concession at this point.

And if you will not concede...what would you like me to tell your family?

Food for thought, Durant.]]>
I don't really like talking about my dreams.

Not with Dr. Elbrook. Not with The Many Faces.

Not even with my own mother when I was a child.

If I had a nightmare, I kept it to myself. I would scream, of course; who can help it at that age? But if I was asked, I would just say it was a cramp, or a charlie horse, or even nothing at all. It isn't because I didn't want to share what my nightmares were.

It was because I didn't know what people would think after I told them.

[Image: 1Y9m.gif]

I woke up with a start. Staring into a blank, empty void of space. The surface beneath me was solid, and looking down I could at least see my body. I turned around, frantically looking for any sign of light. Slowly, out of the corner of my eye, a hue of purple began to glow. I turned to face it...and a familiar figure stood before me.

I say "figure" because until this day, I was unaware of who this person even was. Sometimes it was multiple people. Other times it would simply be a reflection of myself. But this one...this one figure I saw the most. Adorned in a robe, holding a staff wrapped in brambles, and wearing a mask under a hood. With the room being so dark, the porcelain white face was much more prominent. "What do you want?" I asked the figure. "What do you want from me?"

But no answer came. As always.

"Tell me!" I shouted, even though I knew it was fruitless. The figure walked backward into the darkness, its features now obscured by the void, aside from the lone white mask. A finger protruded from the shadows and pointed over my shoulder. I slowly turned to look, seeing nothing behind me. Confused, I took two steps forward...

One...

Two...

And then...falling.

I didn't scream. I didn't feel the need to. I was falling into void. Even as I reached out to the side, I felt nothing next to me. There was a loud snap, and suddenly I was lurched in another direction, following a long rope. While staring at it, the porcelain face looked back at me. We fell together, both unafraid, both knowing what would come to pass.

The rope led toward a red mass. Our falling began to slow.

I saw the top of a man's head.

I saw the man's face. Devin's face. His eyes wild. His tongue hanging loosely out of his mouth, which was twisted into a wicked grin.

Then I fell past the loop around his neck.

All in a manner of a few seconds, I saw another loved one, dead and swinging.

Another loud snap. I lurched again, falling toward what looked like a feeding frenzy. A number of strange and fantastical beasts all gathered around an undistinguishable figure...at least from this distance. But I knew what was coming. This was not a dream I was unfamiliar with by now.

As we drew closer, two beasts were fighting over a gnawed-off leg. The cracking of bone and tearing of muscle and flesh rang in my ears as we fell. Three of the beasts tore into a chest cavity, allowing themselves a moment to howl in approval. The remains sprayed around the frenzy as we fell past. And staring back at me was the face of Wide Dio, eyes wide with terror and his mouth stuffed with an apple. As though he were served as an Easter dinner.

Another snap. More falling. This time I felt like I was falling upward. I felt my stomach twist itself into knots. I retched as I fell from the constant shifting as vertigo began to settle in. This time there were only flames. It was almost as if I were bathed in it, though I could feel no heat coming from them. The flames slowly formed into the shape of a body, arms outstretched facing downward. While I could not feel the heat of the flame, the smell of burning flesh and hair still crawled through my nostrils. Without even needing to look, I had a feeling that the body I was now looking at was Daniel's.

The dream itself was always the same. A loved one hanged. A loved one devoured. A love one burned alive.

And then the laughter came.

This laughter was different from the voices I heard in my waking. No, this laugh was purposeful. Not maniacal, but methodical. Practiced. Rehearsed. Deliberate.

I stopped falling. I felt my feet touch hard surface once more. I stumbled to a knee, the momentum carrying me as I tried stopping myself with my hands. I pushed myself off the floor...and the porcelain face was no more than an inch from my face. I could hear the laughter coming from behind me. It was a laugh I was all too familiar with. The porcelain face slowly vanished...replaced by the familiar red and blue lights of a police interceptor.

I turned to face the laughter. Standing before me was the silhouette of the man who nearly ruined not only my life, but my family's lives as well. Adorned in a tailored black suit, he paired it with a wide brim fedora. His head was looking down in a feeble attempt to hide his face. His arms were outstretched, one holding onto an aluminum baseball bat. To the rest of the waking world, this man was nothing more than a modern criminal.

But to me, he may as well have been the devil himself.

[Image: Anton.jpg]

I could see him start to walk toward me, though it seemed like he was not moving at all. Rather, the world around him was moving on his behalf. Each step flashed an image of each of my now dead brothers...the ones in this dream, anyhow. I blinked, trying to shake the images from my mind...but no relief came. Eventually he stopped, standing one meter away from me. "It has been some time...has it not?" He stated slowly and with conviction.

I said nothing. No words would ever escape my lips...or at least, I tried to. "This is only a dream," I said aloud. "This is only a dream...this is only a dream..."

"...Indeed," He confirmed. "And yet you continue to return here, knowing the pain it causes you." The man lifted his head, revealing the porcelain face at first. Then, in a flash and another crack, the mask was gone...leaving a gaunt-looking man with a clean-shaven face. Otherwise indistinguishable, the only identifying mark was a leather eyepatch adorned with a silver rose. His smile revealed a set of crooked teeth, two gold crowns offset within his mouth. "Do you think that I wish to do this to you, in this place? To haunt you for all eternity?" He chuckled as he asked his rhetorical question.

"You have had plenty of opportunity to leave my nightmares...but still you remain," I retorted. "I have half a mind to-"

"Aha! There it is!" He exclaimed. "That never-say-die attitude that drove me to madness. Your father had it too, you know." I could feel my hands clench into fists. He noticed, wagging his finger in my direction. "Now now. What will fighting me in here get you? You bested me in a dream? Good for you. I still came back, did I not? And I always will...so long as you continue to hold me in your heart..."

"...Dear Nephew..."

As I said before. To me, this man may as well be the devil himself.

But to the rest of the world...this was Anton Heedon. Con artist. embezzler. The man who nearly destroyed my family.

...And also...my uncle.

Hi ho.

Hi ho.

Its off to Hell we go.

...Forgive me; I'm not much of a whistler.

This could easily be the most unique locale I've had the pleasure of competing in. Or it would, if pleasure meant unbearable heat and hearing the sounds of the lost and the damned constantly ring in your ear. Although I have traveled to Tuscon, Arizona before...

Regardless, wherever I compete, whether it is a small gymnasium or a sold-out capacity stadium, I never really felt imposed by the surroundings of a place. Perhaps that is just the natural performer in me; I'm there to complete a task and move on my merry way. And perhaps catch the sights in my free time. Though I highly doubt they are offering guided tours of the nine circles...nor is Dante around to gush over how much of a self-insert fanboy he is to the hell mythos. And yet, "self-insert" is a quite proper description of Slade Durant. A self-described, self-important competitor who has made it his undying mission to end the machinations of one man and one man alone...at the expense of letting his one goal prevent him from any kind of upward mobility.

Slade, you and I both know that revenge is a dish best served cold. And for good reason. A warm meal is meant to be comforting, reminiscent of mother's meatloaf. A dish that is cold is typically left unattended, with disinterest and possibly gathering flies. In other words, unappealing and not at all desired by the recipient. However, with this single-minded goal of yours, that dish can only be enjoyed once. Consider, for a moment; you are standing above your greatest rival, your most hated enemy. And you deliver the exact kind of revenge that you want to bring.

...What happens then?

Is it coming up with flimsy justification to pursue a new target of your revenge? Is it hanging the boots up and calling it a career? Is it putting all other opportunity aside and only stay the course of your plans? Revenge is only a good plan if you intend on actually acting on it, and often. It isn't enough to get your come-uppance; you have to also drive the point home, leaving no room to question, until they yield. Left unattended, that dish will grow mold and rot, becoming useless to you as it festers deep down inside.

See, that's the difference between you and I. This isn't a matter of who is good and who is evil. This is a matter of who has the most conviction. You are entering in this match with a single-minded goal of gaining petty revenge. I am entering into this match with the intention of not only retaining, but retaining in a glorious fashion. Which brings us now to the match stipulation.

Now you may be wondering, "Well Dionysus, what kind of convoluted scheme of a match are you going to do this time? A Lava-Chugging Match?" And the thought had crossed my mind of having more elaborate contraptions in spectacular and bizarre fashion. Perhaps a chariot race where the winner is determined by who is thrown off their vehicle. Or perhaps an Aggro-Crag style climb to the top of a mountain where the loser is the one thrown from the summit.

Then I remembered. We're in Hell.

And nothing would bring me more joy...than bringing you, Slade Durant, into The Devil's Playground.

Unlike the past few matches, this structure is quite simple; a steel cage at half the height, surrounded by a cell. Weapons of all kinds strewn on the outside of the ring, within the cell. A good old fashioned beatdown, where victory is only achieved through knockout. Such a brutal style of match is perfect for the setting. Imagine it; the combat taking place as gouts of hellfire and smoke billow from the cavernous walls. But of course, there must be a good reason why I would pick this kind of match for you, right?

...In truth, you did not even come up as a thought.

What I am looking for in this division is competition. This is not a secret to anyone. I don't want someone to just come and take this title from me. I want them to earn it. I want them to have to fight tooth and nail, to reach my level, and earn it. In order for the person who manages to defeat me to earn the Television Title, they will need the same desire I have. You and I do not share that desire. So put simply, this match is your punishment. It is strictly designed for a beatdown. A bloody, messy massacre.

I want you to know that specifically, Slade. I didn't make this for fun. I made this to work out some frustrations. So as a kindness, I must inform you that these next few days are going to be extremely important for you. You have some really critical decisions to make. And the first decision you should really consider is conceding prior to the match. Because I'm not going to hold back. I can't guarantee what is going to happen to you. There is no promise of your safety...or anything, for that matter. So you really should just consider the concession at this point.

And if you will not concede...what would you like me to tell your family?

Food for thought, Durant.]]> <![CDATA[Deion of Lake Charles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46867 Thu, 14 Sep 2023 21:02:58 -0700 Slade Durant]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46867 So, did we ever find out what happened to that kid?

The one that went missing in a cab in DC?

Yes.  How many missing kids do you think we deal with on this wrestling podcast?

Relax.  I was just making sure.  And, no...no update yet. 

Damn.  I was searching true crime podcasts to see if he popped up on any of the recent ‘missing persons’ cases but all that did was give me nightmares so I stopped.

Can’t blame you there, man.  You should watch the one about the guy that breaks into people’s houses and just stares at them while they sleep, super creepy.

THAT’S ENOUGH.

Alright, fine.

Let’s hit the phone lines.  Looks like we’ve got a caller.  Hello...caller, you’re live with On The Apron!

Hello dick bags!

…

...-…

It’s me!

Gonna have to be more specific, bud.

Yea, we get at least 7 callers a week, c’mon.

Well, I’ll just say this...the lack of Slade Durant talk in recent weeks has been very disturbing.  VERY disturbing.

It’s him!

OMG!

There we go.  What’s up, fellas?

Look, just tell us this, was the kid okay?

Seriously!

Well, that’s tough to say.  The kid had a rough upbringing.  An unstable home life.  He was forced to fend for himself at an age far earlier than most.  It made him hard, jaded...some might even say dreaded.

Oh no.

Hold on.

Slade Durant’s childhood was no walk in the park.  Orphaned at the age of 3.  Working sweat shops at the age of 5.  Initiated into the Blade Runner Gang at the age of 12.  Slade had seen some shit.  Forced to grow up way, WAY too early.  But, that’s okay...what doesn’t kill only strengthens and there is no man stronger than Slade Durant.

Can you stop with the hyperbole?  We all saw him lose to Mark Flynn.

Yep, 0-1 in XWF, pal.

Fools.  Slade Durant never loses.  He’s playing chess while the rest of you simps are drawing figure eights in the sand.  He’ll get Flynn, eventually.  There’s no equity in beating a man of Flynn’s caliber that early on...but Dionysus...well, that’s another story.

Wait, isn’t Dionysus a champion? 

I think so...how the hell is this guy getting all these title shots?

Because he’s Slade Durant...haven’t you been listening?  Anyway, let me regale you two fools with a truly sinister tale.  The story of how Slade Durant ruined Dionysus.

---

Slade Durant is found leaning against his jet-black 1964 Pontiac GTO.  He’s filling the tank up at a local truck stop just outside the town of Lake Charles, Louisiana.  It’s a fairly new truck stop, not yet soiled and stained by all the filthy mother fuckers drawn to its isolated location.  Slade takes a few steps away from his vehicle and lights a self-rolled cigarette, placing it between his lips.  We see via the reflection of a pair of aviator shades over his eyes a station for electric cars.  Three cars are plugged in and charging.

“Hehe,” Slade chuckles.

Walking over, he surveys the setup.  One by one, he unplugs each car from the electric charging station.  Not all the way, but just enough to where it looks like there’s a connection, even though there isn’t.  The horror.  Slade’s phone lets out a gunshot.  He removes it from his pocket to read a text.

Relentless.  September 22nd.  TV Title Match against Dionysus.

“Hmm,” Slade thinks, taking a long drag off his smoke.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Slade leaves the scene of the crime and marches back toward his vehicle with a purpose.  He steps right in front of a woman and her child.  They come to an abrupt halt and shoot him a ‘wtf’ look.  A man walking his small chihuahua passes by Slade.  Slade pays the man no attention...he removes his cigarette and in the coolest motion ever, flicks it over his shoulder as he reaches his car.  The cigarette hits the tiny dog and the dog yelps, bursting into flames.  People scream and panic.  Slade, unaware, steps into his car, fires up the engine, and peels out, ripping the hose from the gas pump off.

---

Wait, he burned that man’s dog alive?

Not the puppy!

Huh?  I don’t know, man.  But what I do know is that three people were likely stranded on the side of the road without an electric charge OR they had to waste another 30 minutes at the truck stop recharging their cars.  Haha.

He burned a dog alive, man.

Yeah, I think you should consider that.

And did you two hear how he ripped that hose off the pump?  Man, that gas station owner is going to have to get out a ladder and reattach it.  He’s gonna be SO pissed.

That’ll take literally 5 minutes.  A man just lost his pet.

I hope Dionysus kicks this guy's ass.

Fat chance.  You hear me?  FAT chance.  Slade’s already, let’s just say, ensured that can’t happen.  He’s neutralized the threat.  I doubt Dionysus will even show up to Relentless if you catch my drift.

Kinda hard NOT to catch your drift.

Wait, what are you saying?  Did he do something to Dionysus?

Oh and how!

---

Seated inside a local diner, Slade enjoys a cup of very black coffee.  He scrolls through his phone, doing some research on the TV Title.  He stares at a photo of the current TV champion, his opponent, Dionysus.  A low growl rumbles through his respiratory system.

“Did you not enjoy the coffee?” a local waitress asks, hearing his sound of annoyance.

Slade shoots her a dreadful glance.  She steps back, extends her arm, and refills his cup before getting the hell away from him. 

The door chimes as most local diner doors do.  A man with long red hair and a thick red beard steps in.  The cashier happily greets him, “Deion!  Running a little late today?”

Slade’s head slowly rises.  His eyes shift to their peripheral position as he gets a visual on Deion.  Slowly, his narrow eyes start to widen.

“Only a couple of minutes.  Had to go pick up a new TV,” Deion explains with a friendly smile.

Slade turns around in his chair, staring the man down.  He receives a small to-go box, pays for it, and leaves.  Durant watches him get into a van with a local car dealership advertised on the side.  He rotates back into his chair and takes a sip of coffee.

“See you soon, Deion…”  Slade chuckles, tipping his coffee cup over just enough to spill some on top of the table before leaving the exact amount of the coffee and nothing more on top of the puddle of liquid.  He exits.

---

Wait, hold on.  A guy named Deion with red hair and a red beard?

Yeah, this sounds very sus.

Super sus!

Are you saying XWF Television Champion Dionysus is a fictional character?  That he’s not real?

Uh, no.  I’ve personally seen him wrestle, live.  He’s very real.

Well, there ya go.  He exists and he runs a car dealership in Lake Charles.

I haven’t exactly memorized the bio of Dionysus but I’m pretty sure that’s inaccurate.

Yeah, I can look it up right now and prove that to be false.

The roster bio is what he wants you to know...it isn’t what’s true.  Trust me.  He runs a car dealership in Lake Charles and he’s about to face the dreaded horror that is Slade Durant.

---

Durant visited three car dealerships that day. 

The first dealership provided no Deion.  But, what it did provide was opportunity.  The opportunity for Slade Durant to sneak into the men’s restroom and remove all the toilet paper.  An act that sprang to mind when he realized the crew was about to enjoy Taco Tuesday.

How dreaded.

The second dealership was, once again, without the targeted Deion.  So, Slade sneaked into each salesperson’s office when they were busy on the floor and stole all their pens.  Now, how are they going to sign contracts? 

So dreaded.

Which brings us to the third car dealership.  Alas, no Deion.  Enraged by a third consecutive miss, Slade waited until the dealership’s manager left for lunch.  He rushed into his office and unplugged his computer from the wall.  An act that might completely scramble the hard drive...or, at least, force the manager to wait an extra few minutes to boot it back up.

Dreaded.

---

I know what you two are thinking...how can a man like this live with himself, right?

After burning a dog to death, yea. 

Again, what dog?

The dog he lit on fire at the gas station!

It’s just a fuckin dog, man.  He literally stole a bunch of toilet paper on Taco Tuesday!  Imagine...the...horror.

I can’t get over the dead dog.

RIP.

Ugh, whatever.  It’s fine.  Because what’s about to happen will make you both rethink the human race.

Oh and what about that kid?  Seriously.

STOP INTERRUPTING MY STORY

---

Most ordinary men.  Most mortal men might have quit after a third strike.  But not Slade Durant.  He remained firmly in the batter’s box, daring the umpire to toss him out.  Daring the catcher to protest.  Daring the pitcher to throw one more pitch over the plate.

Sat outside a fourth dealership in the twilight hours of a standard workday, Slade watches the final customer talking things over with Deion.  A sale is on the horizon.

This would not stand.

Slade steps from his vehicle and calmly enters the dealership.  The receptionist is in the back, talking with another salesperson.  That time of day, everyone’s guard is lowered.  Their minds off of work and on to whatever plans they had conjured up for the evening.  A perfect opportunity.

Walking by the rec room, Slade overhears the conversation within.

“Somebody burned a dog to death, Frank!”

“Are you serious?  That’s horrible!”

“It might be the most dreaded thing I’ve ever heard...a tiny chihuahua…”

“And on Taco Tuesday of all days...that was no accident.”

“I hope they catch the son of a bitch.”

Slade has no idea what they are talking about.  He continues to wait, hoping something relevant will be revealed.

“Speaking of bitch...mind if I take you out tonight?”

“Don’t mind if you do, ya jerk!”

“This time, you pay.”

Slade’s brow furrows at the weird line of conversation.

“Oh, I…”

Durant ducks away.  The receptionist and salesperson exit, heading out for the day.  In hiding, Slade didn’t quite catch that final bit of dialogue but he was pretty sure what the receptionist said.

“Isis…” The word falls from Slade’s mouth.

Suddenly, it all makes sense.  Durant peeks around the corner after hearing the door shut.  Deion is still negotiating a sale with the final customer.

“I’ll see you later tonight, Deion…”  he says in the most dreaded tone.

Before leaving, Slade desires to catch Deion’s attention.  An ominous act meant to portend a dreadful event on the darkened horizon.

“Alright, sir...I think we can waive that secondary service charge if that’ll get this deal done.”

“I’d appreciate it.  This thing’s already getting expensive as it is.  Can’t believe how much cars cost these days.”

“Haha, I hear ya!  Okay, charge waived and…”

A faint bang is kinda heard off in the distance.

“Did you hear something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It sounded like a bang...like something hitting the wall.”

“Really?  Cause, I didn’t hear anything.”

“I mean, I might be wrong...could be hearing things cause, to be honest, I’m not even sure it happened in the store.  It was so quiet it might’ve been across the street or something.”

“Hmm...a bang against the wall?”

“Yea, or, well, it could’ve been a tap.”

“Weird.”

“Might’ve been a wasp flying into the wall.  I don’t think it’s that serious.”

“So, nothing to worry about?

“Yea, forget I said anything...so we’re waving that charge?”

“Yep, all waived and ready to go.”

“Great!”  The man reaches into his pocket and feels around...his eyes widen.

“What?  Is everything okay?”

“I’m such an idiot,” he buries his face in his hands.

“Sir, don’t be so hard on yourself...I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“I left my wallet at home.”

Deion smiles and leans back, “Would it help if I told you this isn’t the first time that’s happened?”

The man looks up out of his hands, “Kinda…”

“Relax, I’ll keep the car on hold and you can come back tomorrow to pay for it.”

The customer shakes his head, “Deion, you really are the best.  I’m so sorry.  I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The two shake hands and stand.  Deion escorts the customer out of the dealership before locking the door.  He turns and sees the lobby TV hanging from the brackets attached to the wall.  The desk it had been leaning on is moved.

It’s almost like someone shoved the desk out of the way to send the TV crashing to the ground.  Deion inspects what happened...he places his index finger on the TV and gives it a nudge...he sways back and lightly taps against the wall.

“A light tap...that explains it.”  Deion’s words are full of relief as he pulls the desk back into position, under the TV.  “I was worried we might have a wasp infestation, haha.”

Deion whistles, walking back into his office.

---

Does Slade not know flat screens are attached to walls?

He really thought it’d fall to the ground and break?

Mind games, gentlemen.  Mind games.  He had the guy thinking he had a wasp problem.  Imagine the horror.  Customers getting stung by wasps?  It would’ve put him out of business.

Man, you just go out and buy some wasp spray.  It’s easily fixable...unlike a missing child or dead dog.

Yea, this is in Lake Charles, right?  Think I need to file a report.

It’s one dead fuckin dog, idiots.  Like, who cares?  Bob Barker wouldn’t, I know that’s for sure.

Don’t bring the good name of Bob Barker into this.

Seriously!  He was trying to help pets not kill them!

Whatever, back to the point...Slade cost that man a sale with his actions.  That was the entire goal and, well, mission accomplished.

Dude!  The guy is literally going to come back the next morning and pay.

He forgot his wallet...an act that happened way before Slade even showed up!

Or, so you think…

You’re insane.

Yea, I’m about to cut this call off.

WAIT!  The act of costing Deion a sale was merely an appetizer.  If you end the call now you’ll miss the main course.

I think I’m full, to be honest.

Hold on, let’s hear him out.  We’ve given him this much time already.

Fine.

Hehe, prepare to have your lives changed, gentlemen.  Prepare to never trust the human race again.

---

Hands covered in leather, gripping and squeezing the steering wheel, Slade watches with intent.  His designs are firm.  Plans are made.  All he needs now is for opportunity to open its predictable door.

Deion exits his dealership with an extra hop in his step.  Big sale coming in the morning and his store is not infested with wasps.

Slade snickers, “Hope you enjoy that sale I just cost you, hehe.”

Deion hops into his van and fires up the engine.

“That’s right, head on home...leave your business unattended.  Right into my hands…”

Deion pulls out of the parking lot and drives away.  Slade’s hands twist and squeeze the wheel, “Life as you know it, is over.  Courtesy of Slade Durant.” 

Slade begins to chuckle.  His chuckle rises in cadence, breaking into full-on maniacal laughter.  Our view pulls out from inside his car to a wide, exterior shot.  Slade parked a lot over in front of an abandoned building.  Behind them the bay of Lake Charles with a party boat cruising closer and closer in the distance.  Slade’s laugh rises into the sky, causing birds to fly away and clouds to cover the moonlight.

---

Seems a little dramatic.

Oh, if you guys only knew.

So...what did he do?  Just sit in the car and laugh?

Well, that story, my friends...will have to wait until your next show.

Ugh

Dude, you keep coming on here with these dumb stories with ridiculous cliffhangers all the while refusing to answer the real questions.

You mean the question of whether or not Deion survived?  Whether or not Deion will make it to Relentless to defend his XWF TV Title?

First off, his name is Dionysus.  Second...no, man.  What happened to the kid...what happened to the dog?!

Tell you what, you let me on tomorrow to finish this dastardly tale and I’ll give you the information you seek.

…

Fine.

In the meantime, ask yourself this...what has Dionysus done to deserve such a dreadful fate?  Who in the XWF front office did he piss off to be on the losing end of Slade Durant’s wrath?  He seems like a jolly enough fellow...a generalization I’m making based purely on the face he has a giant red beard.  Like Santa Claus.

Santa’s beard is white you moron.

One does not get booked against Slade Durant, you see.  One gets sentenced against Slade Durant.  The XWF powers have decided Dionysus is no longer worth the energy and effort required to promote and manage.  So, they’ve placed him right in Slade Durant’s path knowing that The Dreaded Slade Durant will slice right through him, ending whatever pithy run he might be enjoying right now during his mundane, unremarkable career.  At Relentless…

Night 1.

At Relentless...the main event…

Night 1.

AT RELENTLESS, the main event of pro wrestling…

Night 1.

AT RELENTLESS SLADE DURANT WILL DESTROY DIONYSUS AND TAKE THE TV TITLE.

Night fucking 1.

That’s IF Dionysus even makes it to the show...hehehe...muhahahaha….AHAHAHAHA

Night 1.

click

And there he goes.

Do we really let him back on next time?

I dunno, you wanna hear the end of his story?

Might as well.]]> So, did we ever find out what happened to that kid?

The one that went missing in a cab in DC?

Yes.  How many missing kids do you think we deal with on this wrestling podcast?

Relax.  I was just making sure.  And, no...no update yet. 

Damn.  I was searching true crime podcasts to see if he popped up on any of the recent ‘missing persons’ cases but all that did was give me nightmares so I stopped.

Can’t blame you there, man.  You should watch the one about the guy that breaks into people’s houses and just stares at them while they sleep, super creepy.

THAT’S ENOUGH.

Alright, fine.

Let’s hit the phone lines.  Looks like we’ve got a caller.  Hello...caller, you’re live with On The Apron!

Hello dick bags!

…

...-…

It’s me!

Gonna have to be more specific, bud.

Yea, we get at least 7 callers a week, c’mon.

Well, I’ll just say this...the lack of Slade Durant talk in recent weeks has been very disturbing.  VERY disturbing.

It’s him!

OMG!

There we go.  What’s up, fellas?

Look, just tell us this, was the kid okay?

Seriously!

Well, that’s tough to say.  The kid had a rough upbringing.  An unstable home life.  He was forced to fend for himself at an age far earlier than most.  It made him hard, jaded...some might even say dreaded.

Oh no.

Hold on.

Slade Durant’s childhood was no walk in the park.  Orphaned at the age of 3.  Working sweat shops at the age of 5.  Initiated into the Blade Runner Gang at the age of 12.  Slade had seen some shit.  Forced to grow up way, WAY too early.  But, that’s okay...what doesn’t kill only strengthens and there is no man stronger than Slade Durant.

Can you stop with the hyperbole?  We all saw him lose to Mark Flynn.

Yep, 0-1 in XWF, pal.

Fools.  Slade Durant never loses.  He’s playing chess while the rest of you simps are drawing figure eights in the sand.  He’ll get Flynn, eventually.  There’s no equity in beating a man of Flynn’s caliber that early on...but Dionysus...well, that’s another story.

Wait, isn’t Dionysus a champion? 

I think so...how the hell is this guy getting all these title shots?

Because he’s Slade Durant...haven’t you been listening?  Anyway, let me regale you two fools with a truly sinister tale.  The story of how Slade Durant ruined Dionysus.

---

Slade Durant is found leaning against his jet-black 1964 Pontiac GTO.  He’s filling the tank up at a local truck stop just outside the town of Lake Charles, Louisiana.  It’s a fairly new truck stop, not yet soiled and stained by all the filthy mother fuckers drawn to its isolated location.  Slade takes a few steps away from his vehicle and lights a self-rolled cigarette, placing it between his lips.  We see via the reflection of a pair of aviator shades over his eyes a station for electric cars.  Three cars are plugged in and charging.

“Hehe,” Slade chuckles.

Walking over, he surveys the setup.  One by one, he unplugs each car from the electric charging station.  Not all the way, but just enough to where it looks like there’s a connection, even though there isn’t.  The horror.  Slade’s phone lets out a gunshot.  He removes it from his pocket to read a text.

Relentless.  September 22nd.  TV Title Match against Dionysus.

“Hmm,” Slade thinks, taking a long drag off his smoke.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Slade leaves the scene of the crime and marches back toward his vehicle with a purpose.  He steps right in front of a woman and her child.  They come to an abrupt halt and shoot him a ‘wtf’ look.  A man walking his small chihuahua passes by Slade.  Slade pays the man no attention...he removes his cigarette and in the coolest motion ever, flicks it over his shoulder as he reaches his car.  The cigarette hits the tiny dog and the dog yelps, bursting into flames.  People scream and panic.  Slade, unaware, steps into his car, fires up the engine, and peels out, ripping the hose from the gas pump off.

---

Wait, he burned that man’s dog alive?

Not the puppy!

Huh?  I don’t know, man.  But what I do know is that three people were likely stranded on the side of the road without an electric charge OR they had to waste another 30 minutes at the truck stop recharging their cars.  Haha.

He burned a dog alive, man.

Yeah, I think you should consider that.

And did you two hear how he ripped that hose off the pump?  Man, that gas station owner is going to have to get out a ladder and reattach it.  He’s gonna be SO pissed.

That’ll take literally 5 minutes.  A man just lost his pet.

I hope Dionysus kicks this guy's ass.

Fat chance.  You hear me?  FAT chance.  Slade’s already, let’s just say, ensured that can’t happen.  He’s neutralized the threat.  I doubt Dionysus will even show up to Relentless if you catch my drift.

Kinda hard NOT to catch your drift.

Wait, what are you saying?  Did he do something to Dionysus?

Oh and how!

---

Seated inside a local diner, Slade enjoys a cup of very black coffee.  He scrolls through his phone, doing some research on the TV Title.  He stares at a photo of the current TV champion, his opponent, Dionysus.  A low growl rumbles through his respiratory system.

“Did you not enjoy the coffee?” a local waitress asks, hearing his sound of annoyance.

Slade shoots her a dreadful glance.  She steps back, extends her arm, and refills his cup before getting the hell away from him. 

The door chimes as most local diner doors do.  A man with long red hair and a thick red beard steps in.  The cashier happily greets him, “Deion!  Running a little late today?”

Slade’s head slowly rises.  His eyes shift to their peripheral position as he gets a visual on Deion.  Slowly, his narrow eyes start to widen.

“Only a couple of minutes.  Had to go pick up a new TV,” Deion explains with a friendly smile.

Slade turns around in his chair, staring the man down.  He receives a small to-go box, pays for it, and leaves.  Durant watches him get into a van with a local car dealership advertised on the side.  He rotates back into his chair and takes a sip of coffee.

“See you soon, Deion…”  Slade chuckles, tipping his coffee cup over just enough to spill some on top of the table before leaving the exact amount of the coffee and nothing more on top of the puddle of liquid.  He exits.

---

Wait, hold on.  A guy named Deion with red hair and a red beard?

Yeah, this sounds very sus.

Super sus!

Are you saying XWF Television Champion Dionysus is a fictional character?  That he’s not real?

Uh, no.  I’ve personally seen him wrestle, live.  He’s very real.

Well, there ya go.  He exists and he runs a car dealership in Lake Charles.

I haven’t exactly memorized the bio of Dionysus but I’m pretty sure that’s inaccurate.

Yeah, I can look it up right now and prove that to be false.

The roster bio is what he wants you to know...it isn’t what’s true.  Trust me.  He runs a car dealership in Lake Charles and he’s about to face the dreaded horror that is Slade Durant.

---

Durant visited three car dealerships that day. 

The first dealership provided no Deion.  But, what it did provide was opportunity.  The opportunity for Slade Durant to sneak into the men’s restroom and remove all the toilet paper.  An act that sprang to mind when he realized the crew was about to enjoy Taco Tuesday.

How dreaded.

The second dealership was, once again, without the targeted Deion.  So, Slade sneaked into each salesperson’s office when they were busy on the floor and stole all their pens.  Now, how are they going to sign contracts? 

So dreaded.

Which brings us to the third car dealership.  Alas, no Deion.  Enraged by a third consecutive miss, Slade waited until the dealership’s manager left for lunch.  He rushed into his office and unplugged his computer from the wall.  An act that might completely scramble the hard drive...or, at least, force the manager to wait an extra few minutes to boot it back up.

Dreaded.

---

I know what you two are thinking...how can a man like this live with himself, right?

After burning a dog to death, yea. 

Again, what dog?

The dog he lit on fire at the gas station!

It’s just a fuckin dog, man.  He literally stole a bunch of toilet paper on Taco Tuesday!  Imagine...the...horror.

I can’t get over the dead dog.

RIP.

Ugh, whatever.  It’s fine.  Because what’s about to happen will make you both rethink the human race.

Oh and what about that kid?  Seriously.

STOP INTERRUPTING MY STORY

---

Most ordinary men.  Most mortal men might have quit after a third strike.  But not Slade Durant.  He remained firmly in the batter’s box, daring the umpire to toss him out.  Daring the catcher to protest.  Daring the pitcher to throw one more pitch over the plate.

Sat outside a fourth dealership in the twilight hours of a standard workday, Slade watches the final customer talking things over with Deion.  A sale is on the horizon.

This would not stand.

Slade steps from his vehicle and calmly enters the dealership.  The receptionist is in the back, talking with another salesperson.  That time of day, everyone’s guard is lowered.  Their minds off of work and on to whatever plans they had conjured up for the evening.  A perfect opportunity.

Walking by the rec room, Slade overhears the conversation within.

“Somebody burned a dog to death, Frank!”

“Are you serious?  That’s horrible!”

“It might be the most dreaded thing I’ve ever heard...a tiny chihuahua…”

“And on Taco Tuesday of all days...that was no accident.”

“I hope they catch the son of a bitch.”

Slade has no idea what they are talking about.  He continues to wait, hoping something relevant will be revealed.

“Speaking of bitch...mind if I take you out tonight?”

“Don’t mind if you do, ya jerk!”

“This time, you pay.”

Slade’s brow furrows at the weird line of conversation.

“Oh, I…”

Durant ducks away.  The receptionist and salesperson exit, heading out for the day.  In hiding, Slade didn’t quite catch that final bit of dialogue but he was pretty sure what the receptionist said.

“Isis…” The word falls from Slade’s mouth.

Suddenly, it all makes sense.  Durant peeks around the corner after hearing the door shut.  Deion is still negotiating a sale with the final customer.

“I’ll see you later tonight, Deion…”  he says in the most dreaded tone.

Before leaving, Slade desires to catch Deion’s attention.  An ominous act meant to portend a dreadful event on the darkened horizon.

“Alright, sir...I think we can waive that secondary service charge if that’ll get this deal done.”

“I’d appreciate it.  This thing’s already getting expensive as it is.  Can’t believe how much cars cost these days.”

“Haha, I hear ya!  Okay, charge waived and…”

A faint bang is kinda heard off in the distance.

“Did you hear something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It sounded like a bang...like something hitting the wall.”

“Really?  Cause, I didn’t hear anything.”

“I mean, I might be wrong...could be hearing things cause, to be honest, I’m not even sure it happened in the store.  It was so quiet it might’ve been across the street or something.”

“Hmm...a bang against the wall?”

“Yea, or, well, it could’ve been a tap.”

“Weird.”

“Might’ve been a wasp flying into the wall.  I don’t think it’s that serious.”

“So, nothing to worry about?

“Yea, forget I said anything...so we’re waving that charge?”

“Yep, all waived and ready to go.”

“Great!”  The man reaches into his pocket and feels around...his eyes widen.

“What?  Is everything okay?”

“I’m such an idiot,” he buries his face in his hands.

“Sir, don’t be so hard on yourself...I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“I left my wallet at home.”

Deion smiles and leans back, “Would it help if I told you this isn’t the first time that’s happened?”

The man looks up out of his hands, “Kinda…”

“Relax, I’ll keep the car on hold and you can come back tomorrow to pay for it.”

The customer shakes his head, “Deion, you really are the best.  I’m so sorry.  I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The two shake hands and stand.  Deion escorts the customer out of the dealership before locking the door.  He turns and sees the lobby TV hanging from the brackets attached to the wall.  The desk it had been leaning on is moved.

It’s almost like someone shoved the desk out of the way to send the TV crashing to the ground.  Deion inspects what happened...he places his index finger on the TV and gives it a nudge...he sways back and lightly taps against the wall.

“A light tap...that explains it.”  Deion’s words are full of relief as he pulls the desk back into position, under the TV.  “I was worried we might have a wasp infestation, haha.”

Deion whistles, walking back into his office.

---

Does Slade not know flat screens are attached to walls?

He really thought it’d fall to the ground and break?

Mind games, gentlemen.  Mind games.  He had the guy thinking he had a wasp problem.  Imagine the horror.  Customers getting stung by wasps?  It would’ve put him out of business.

Man, you just go out and buy some wasp spray.  It’s easily fixable...unlike a missing child or dead dog.

Yea, this is in Lake Charles, right?  Think I need to file a report.

It’s one dead fuckin dog, idiots.  Like, who cares?  Bob Barker wouldn’t, I know that’s for sure.

Don’t bring the good name of Bob Barker into this.

Seriously!  He was trying to help pets not kill them!

Whatever, back to the point...Slade cost that man a sale with his actions.  That was the entire goal and, well, mission accomplished.

Dude!  The guy is literally going to come back the next morning and pay.

He forgot his wallet...an act that happened way before Slade even showed up!

Or, so you think…

You’re insane.

Yea, I’m about to cut this call off.

WAIT!  The act of costing Deion a sale was merely an appetizer.  If you end the call now you’ll miss the main course.

I think I’m full, to be honest.

Hold on, let’s hear him out.  We’ve given him this much time already.

Fine.

Hehe, prepare to have your lives changed, gentlemen.  Prepare to never trust the human race again.

---

Hands covered in leather, gripping and squeezing the steering wheel, Slade watches with intent.  His designs are firm.  Plans are made.  All he needs now is for opportunity to open its predictable door.

Deion exits his dealership with an extra hop in his step.  Big sale coming in the morning and his store is not infested with wasps.

Slade snickers, “Hope you enjoy that sale I just cost you, hehe.”

Deion hops into his van and fires up the engine.

“That’s right, head on home...leave your business unattended.  Right into my hands…”

Deion pulls out of the parking lot and drives away.  Slade’s hands twist and squeeze the wheel, “Life as you know it, is over.  Courtesy of Slade Durant.” 

Slade begins to chuckle.  His chuckle rises in cadence, breaking into full-on maniacal laughter.  Our view pulls out from inside his car to a wide, exterior shot.  Slade parked a lot over in front of an abandoned building.  Behind them the bay of Lake Charles with a party boat cruising closer and closer in the distance.  Slade’s laugh rises into the sky, causing birds to fly away and clouds to cover the moonlight.

---

Seems a little dramatic.

Oh, if you guys only knew.

So...what did he do?  Just sit in the car and laugh?

Well, that story, my friends...will have to wait until your next show.

Ugh

Dude, you keep coming on here with these dumb stories with ridiculous cliffhangers all the while refusing to answer the real questions.

You mean the question of whether or not Deion survived?  Whether or not Deion will make it to Relentless to defend his XWF TV Title?

First off, his name is Dionysus.  Second...no, man.  What happened to the kid...what happened to the dog?!

Tell you what, you let me on tomorrow to finish this dastardly tale and I’ll give you the information you seek.

…

Fine.

In the meantime, ask yourself this...what has Dionysus done to deserve such a dreadful fate?  Who in the XWF front office did he piss off to be on the losing end of Slade Durant’s wrath?  He seems like a jolly enough fellow...a generalization I’m making based purely on the face he has a giant red beard.  Like Santa Claus.

Santa’s beard is white you moron.

One does not get booked against Slade Durant, you see.  One gets sentenced against Slade Durant.  The XWF powers have decided Dionysus is no longer worth the energy and effort required to promote and manage.  So, they’ve placed him right in Slade Durant’s path knowing that The Dreaded Slade Durant will slice right through him, ending whatever pithy run he might be enjoying right now during his mundane, unremarkable career.  At Relentless…

Night 1.

At Relentless...the main event…

Night 1.

AT RELENTLESS, the main event of pro wrestling…

Night 1.

AT RELENTLESS SLADE DURANT WILL DESTROY DIONYSUS AND TAKE THE TV TITLE.

Night fucking 1.

That’s IF Dionysus even makes it to the show...hehehe...muhahahaha….AHAHAHAHA

Night 1.

click

And there he goes.

Do we really let him back on next time?

I dunno, you wanna hear the end of his story?

Might as well.]]> <![CDATA[Running Wild]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46838 Sun, 10 Sep 2023 05:15:08 -0700 Bulk Logan]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=46838
We open inside of a dimly lit bar that’s alive with chatter and the clinking of glasses. At the center of the room with a circle of people around him is Bulk Logan. His loud laughter echoes over the background noise as he keeps buying rounds for anyone and everyone, clearly enjoying the attention.

Bulk, with a wide grin, suddenly puts one of the younger patrons in a playful headlock, flexing his biceps for effect.

"You feel that, brother? That's the power of Bulkamania!"

Young Patron, gasping but with a smile: "I give! I give!"

The crowd erupts in laughter, clinking their glasses together. Another older patron in Hells Angels leathers nudges his friend and points at Bulk.

Hells Angel: "Hey, Bulk! Think you can take me on?"

Bulk Logan winks, releasing the young man and quickly sweeping the older guy off his feet into a BIG bear hug, lifting him several inches off the ground. Everyone around them laughs and cheers, recording the playful tussle on their phones.

"This is what happens when you challenge the Bulkster at his own game, dude!"

A woman from the back shouts: "Put my husband down, Logan! Before you force me to tag myself in!"

Bulk grins, looking towards the woman who shouted. She stands, hands on hips, wearing a leather jacket with a Hells Angels patch. Her eyes have a mix of amusement and a challenge in her glare.

Bulk gently sets the Hells Angel down, both laughing heartily.

Hells Angel, rubbing his back jokingly: "Alright, alright, you still got it, Bulkster!"

Bulk, flexing his arms: "Always do, brother!"

The woman approaches, smirking: "Just be careful, Logan. That's my man you're throwing around. And we Angels always get even!"

Bulk Logan, laughing: "Noted, ma'am. Drinks on me for the whole club! Cheers to the Hells Angels! And, uh… If you want to throw me around later…"

She grins, raising a glass, "You're on thin ice, wrestler. But I'll take that drink."

Suddenly, a voice from the back of the bar cuts through the chatter.

Annoyed Bar-goer: "Enough of this nonsense! We're here to drink, not watch a washed-up wrestler play-fight."

The entire bar falls silent for a moment. Then, in unison, the patrons erupt in boos. A couple of them throw beer at the annoyed bar-goer, forcing him to duck and shield himself.

Bulk Logan, chuckling: "Looks like someone's not a fan of the Bulkster! No worries, brother, everyone's entitled to like shitty wrestlers! More drinks on me, dudes!"

The crowd erupts in applause and cheers. Amidst the celebration, Bulk's accountant, Gary Newman, tries to navigate through the crowd to get to his client.

Gary, shouting over the noise: "Bulk! We need to talk!"

Bulk Logan, slightly buzzed: "Gary! My money man! Join the party, brother!"

Gary, pushing up his glasses: "It's about Pizzamania."

Bulk Logan, pouring a shot: "To Pizzamania and to the big payday from Relentless, dude!"

Gary, hesitating: "That's... actually what I wanted to talk about."

Bulk Logan, downing his shot: "Spill it, Gary! But first, another round for everyone!"

The crowd around them cheers, but Gary, looking more anxious than ever, leans in closer.

"Bulk... Pizzamania, it's... it's not doing well."

Bulk Logan, laughing: "What are you talking about, man? People love pizza!"

Gary, pushing up his glasses: "The thing is... it's gone under. We've had to file for bankruptcy. You're... you're broke."

The weight of the words slowly seeps in, and the orange drains from Bulk's face. But ever the showman, he tries to keep his cool.

"You're pulling my leg! I've got that big payday from Relentless coming up!"

Gary, with a pained expression: "You've already been paid in advance for that match. And that's the money we've lost."

Bulk Logan looks around, realizing that the entire bar is waiting for him to pay for all those drinks he's ordered.

"You need to sort this out, Bulk. You owe a lot of people a lot of money."

"Wait a minute, Gary. Pizzamania’s only been open for, like, a week! How in Gods name did it go bankrupt that fast?"

Gary gulps, clearly nervous about breaking down the problems, "Alright, Bulk. Let's go point by point."

Bulk, with a smirk: "Hit me."

"Firstly, you decided to open Pizzamania in a mall. Malls these days? They're pretty much dead. Foot traffic is abysmal."

Bulk, confused: "A mall is a perfect place! Kids, families... they all hang out there!"

Gary, shaking his head: "Not anymore, Bulk. It’s all about online shopping now. Brick and mortar? Especially malls? Not a good investment."

"Okay, okay, but it's pizza! Who doesn't love pizza?"

Gary, hesitatingly: "That brings me to the second point. Your price point. $24 for a slice? Even with... 'BULKED' toppings, it's a hard sell."

Bulk, laughing: "It's $24 because of my legendary 24 inch schlong, dude! It's marketing, brother!"

"But Bulk, the average Joe doesn’t A: believe you, or B: want to pay that much for a slice. Especially not in today's economy. It’s not sustainable."

Bulk grumbles, trying to find a retort, but Gary continues.

"And third, the brand image. Bulk... the general opinion about you still isn't... great. People are actively boycotting anything with your name on it."

Bulk's jaw drops, "What? Everyone loves the Bulkster!"

Gary, sympathetically: "Times change, Jerry. A lot of folks can't see past the remarks you made about women all those years ago. They'll boycott just out of principle."

Bulk, shaking his head: "I just can't believe it. I thought the Bulkamania brand was bulletproof when it came to my Bulkamaniacs."

"You've weathered storms before, Bulk. But this... it’s different. We've got a lot of damage control to do."

Bulk looks defeated for a moment, then rallies, "Well, let's get started then! But first... let me handle this bar tab."

And with that, Bulk Logan, ever the master of escape, sneaks out the side exit, leaving Gary with an exasperated look and a hefty tab to cover..

Gary, sighing heavily and checking his own empty wallet: "Every. Single. Time."

In the background, the bartender, looking furious, yells: "Hey! Who's paying for all these drinks?"

The camera pans out, showing Gary surrounded by a sea of annoyed bar patrons as the bartender steps out from behind the bar with a baseball bat.

[Image: bulkamania.jpg]

Outside the bar, in a hastily set-up promo spot, a slightly tipsy Bulk Logan rips his shirt off as XWF Cambots whiz through the air, positioning themselves for the perfect shot.

"Listen up, brothers! I've been hearing all the chatter, all the talk about the Bulkster being back in the ring after 14 loooong years. And you better believe every bit of it, dudes!"

"Some of you been saying the only reason the XWF reached out to the one and only Bulk Logan is because they're scraping the barrel for talent for their biggest show of the year. Now, don't even start with that Madness main eventing night one nonsense! Madness is alright, but let’s cut the crap, most of those guys wouldn't know what a microphone was if it gave 'em a smack upside their head, dudes!"

"The way I see it, all these vanilla midgets running around, they've got their spot, sure. XWF’s been real charitable, giving those little guys a moment to shine. But let's not get it twisted here, dudes! The people, the fans, they're here for the Bulkster! I'm the cash cow, the golden goose, the reason all of Hades is bursting at the seams! That's why I'm lighting up this show right from the start, brother!"

"So, let the kiddies have their playtime in the main event. It's cute. But here's a reality check for all of ya: Bulk's in the house, and I'm not here for games, brother! When those lights shine bright and the curtains rise, remember one thing, this big boy’s back, and he's here to take over, dude."

"Now, listen up, little Judge man! I've wrestled with the best, and let me tell you, brother, you ain't even close to being on that level. You may call yourself 'The Judge Mental,' but in the court of Bulkamania, you're just another rook tryin' to make a name off the back of a legend!"

“Not today, jack!”

"It's been 14 loooong years since the Bulkster graced the ring with his presence, and trust me, dude, the wrestling world has felt that void. But now, I'm back, brother! And I ain't just here to play. I'm here to show everyone why Bulkamania was, is, and always will be the pinnacle of professional wrestling!"

Leaning into the camera, his blue eyes glittering with intensity, he continues.

"Victor, I've seen your type before. Every time I'd lace up my boots, there'd be some new kid on the block thinkin' he's got what it takes. But when you're in that squared circle with me, brother, all your judgements, all your sentences — they mean nothing, dude! 'Cause in there, there's only one law: the LAW OF BULKAMANIA! And that law states I run wild on you, dude!"

"Judge, dude, you better have your day in court, because come Relentless, it's gonna be nothing but a reckoning. And after I'm done with you..."

"Wait, dudes! Let's not forget about the ladies! I've been getting letters, tweets, and everything in between from all the beautiful women out there who've missed seeing the Bulkster oiled up and in action. And trust me, ladies, the feeling's mutual. I predict the female attendance for Relentless will be at an all-time high, all because they wanna see the return of the real main attraction *thumbing himself*  yours truly."

Flashing a mischievous wink, Bulk seems more confident than ever.

"Oh, and there's another lady out there that I can't wait to squeeze oh so tight, dude! Let's talk about my second opponent at Relentless.”

“Oh, man, you can't make this stuff up.”

“Dolly Waters, a former child prodigy, huh? More like a child who should've stayed in the kiddie pool instead of jumping into the ocean with sharks like the Bulkster!"

Bulk shook his head, clearly amused.

"Yeah, I read her stats, I watched the tapes. All 5-foot-5 and 120 pounds of her. You’re lookin' good, kid, but this isn't a beauty pageant, this is professional wrestling! Sure, she's got some moves, but against me? All her spinning back-fists, mule-kicks, and her, what's it called...Rolling Waters? Ha! They're just a drop in the ocean compared to the power of Bulkamania, dude!"

"You see, Dolly's got some weaknesses, easily overpowered by larger foes. Well, news flash, little lady, you're stepping into the ring with Bulk Logan, the epitome of 'larger foe.' I'll be more than happy to big boot that pretty little head right off your shoulders, brother!"

"And let's talk about this BOB fella she's been slumming around with. BOB, if you're watching this, no hard feelings dude, I don't really care about you. Just like I don't care about Dolly Waters. But since the young lass thinks she's ready for the big time, I'll introduce her to her old pals, Doom and Gloom, when I crush her sternum with the Leg Drop of Gloom!"

"Look, I've seen Dolly Waters, and doom and gloom seem to be her best friends. Well, guess what, sweetheart? I'm arranging a little playdate for ya! The Bulkster loves bringing people together, you know?"

"So Dolly, lace up your boots real tight and pull that hair into the most secure bun you've ever made. Because when you step into the ring with me, brother, you're not just stepping into the ring. Nah, you're stepping into a world of hurt, a world where Bulkamania runs wild on YOU!"

"So, What’cha gonna do, Dolly, when the biggest box office draw in wrestling, the man who's gonna spike female attendance through the roof, decides it's time to add another loss to that lame prodigy nonsense? Bulkamania's running wild, and Bulk's earning that TV title shot, brothers!"

Fade on Bulk flexing]]>
We open inside of a dimly lit bar that’s alive with chatter and the clinking of glasses. At the center of the room with a circle of people around him is Bulk Logan. His loud laughter echoes over the background noise as he keeps buying rounds for anyone and everyone, clearly enjoying the attention.

Bulk, with a wide grin, suddenly puts one of the younger patrons in a playful headlock, flexing his biceps for effect.

"You feel that, brother? That's the power of Bulkamania!"

Young Patron, gasping but with a smile: "I give! I give!"

The crowd erupts in laughter, clinking their glasses together. Another older patron in Hells Angels leathers nudges his friend and points at Bulk.

Hells Angel: "Hey, Bulk! Think you can take me on?"

Bulk Logan winks, releasing the young man and quickly sweeping the older guy off his feet into a BIG bear hug, lifting him several inches off the ground. Everyone around them laughs and cheers, recording the playful tussle on their phones.

"This is what happens when you challenge the Bulkster at his own game, dude!"

A woman from the back shouts: "Put my husband down, Logan! Before you force me to tag myself in!"

Bulk grins, looking towards the woman who shouted. She stands, hands on hips, wearing a leather jacket with a Hells Angels patch. Her eyes have a mix of amusement and a challenge in her glare.

Bulk gently sets the Hells Angel down, both laughing heartily.

Hells Angel, rubbing his back jokingly: "Alright, alright, you still got it, Bulkster!"

Bulk, flexing his arms: "Always do, brother!"

The woman approaches, smirking: "Just be careful, Logan. That's my man you're throwing around. And we Angels always get even!"

Bulk Logan, laughing: "Noted, ma'am. Drinks on me for the whole club! Cheers to the Hells Angels! And, uh… If you want to throw me around later…"

She grins, raising a glass, "You're on thin ice, wrestler. But I'll take that drink."

Suddenly, a voice from the back of the bar cuts through the chatter.

Annoyed Bar-goer: "Enough of this nonsense! We're here to drink, not watch a washed-up wrestler play-fight."

The entire bar falls silent for a moment. Then, in unison, the patrons erupt in boos. A couple of them throw beer at the annoyed bar-goer, forcing him to duck and shield himself.

Bulk Logan, chuckling: "Looks like someone's not a fan of the Bulkster! No worries, brother, everyone's entitled to like shitty wrestlers! More drinks on me, dudes!"

The crowd erupts in applause and cheers. Amidst the celebration, Bulk's accountant, Gary Newman, tries to navigate through the crowd to get to his client.

Gary, shouting over the noise: "Bulk! We need to talk!"

Bulk Logan, slightly buzzed: "Gary! My money man! Join the party, brother!"

Gary, pushing up his glasses: "It's about Pizzamania."

Bulk Logan, pouring a shot: "To Pizzamania and to the big payday from Relentless, dude!"

Gary, hesitating: "That's... actually what I wanted to talk about."

Bulk Logan, downing his shot: "Spill it, Gary! But first, another round for everyone!"

The crowd around them cheers, but Gary, looking more anxious than ever, leans in closer.

"Bulk... Pizzamania, it's... it's not doing well."

Bulk Logan, laughing: "What are you talking about, man? People love pizza!"

Gary, pushing up his glasses: "The thing is... it's gone under. We've had to file for bankruptcy. You're... you're broke."

The weight of the words slowly seeps in, and the orange drains from Bulk's face. But ever the showman, he tries to keep his cool.

"You're pulling my leg! I've got that big payday from Relentless coming up!"

Gary, with a pained expression: "You've already been paid in advance for that match. And that's the money we've lost."

Bulk Logan looks around, realizing that the entire bar is waiting for him to pay for all those drinks he's ordered.

"You need to sort this out, Bulk. You owe a lot of people a lot of money."

"Wait a minute, Gary. Pizzamania’s only been open for, like, a week! How in Gods name did it go bankrupt that fast?"

Gary gulps, clearly nervous about breaking down the problems, "Alright, Bulk. Let's go point by point."

Bulk, with a smirk: "Hit me."

"Firstly, you decided to open Pizzamania in a mall. Malls these days? They're pretty much dead. Foot traffic is abysmal."

Bulk, confused: "A mall is a perfect place! Kids, families... they all hang out there!"

Gary, shaking his head: "Not anymore, Bulk. It’s all about online shopping now. Brick and mortar? Especially malls? Not a good investment."

"Okay, okay, but it's pizza! Who doesn't love pizza?"

Gary, hesitatingly: "That brings me to the second point. Your price point. $24 for a slice? Even with... 'BULKED' toppings, it's a hard sell."

Bulk, laughing: "It's $24 because of my legendary 24 inch schlong, dude! It's marketing, brother!"

"But Bulk, the average Joe doesn’t A: believe you, or B: want to pay that much for a slice. Especially not in today's economy. It’s not sustainable."

Bulk grumbles, trying to find a retort, but Gary continues.

"And third, the brand image. Bulk... the general opinion about you still isn't... great. People are actively boycotting anything with your name on it."

Bulk's jaw drops, "What? Everyone loves the Bulkster!"

Gary, sympathetically: "Times change, Jerry. A lot of folks can't see past the remarks you made about women all those years ago. They'll boycott just out of principle."

Bulk, shaking his head: "I just can't believe it. I thought the Bulkamania brand was bulletproof when it came to my Bulkamaniacs."

"You've weathered storms before, Bulk. But this... it’s different. We've got a lot of damage control to do."

Bulk looks defeated for a moment, then rallies, "Well, let's get started then! But first... let me handle this bar tab."

And with that, Bulk Logan, ever the master of escape, sneaks out the side exit, leaving Gary with an exasperated look and a hefty tab to cover..

Gary, sighing heavily and checking his own empty wallet: "Every. Single. Time."

In the background, the bartender, looking furious, yells: "Hey! Who's paying for all these drinks?"

The camera pans out, showing Gary surrounded by a sea of annoyed bar patrons as the bartender steps out from behind the bar with a baseball bat.

[Image: bulkamania.jpg]

Outside the bar, in a hastily set-up promo spot, a slightly tipsy Bulk Logan rips his shirt off as XWF Cambots whiz through the air, positioning themselves for the perfect shot.

"Listen up, brothers! I've been hearing all the chatter, all the talk about the Bulkster being back in the ring after 14 loooong years. And you better believe every bit of it, dudes!"

"Some of you been saying the only reason the XWF reached out to the one and only Bulk Logan is because they're scraping the barrel for talent for their biggest show of the year. Now, don't even start with that Madness main eventing night one nonsense! Madness is alright, but let’s cut the crap, most of those guys wouldn't know what a microphone was if it gave 'em a smack upside their head, dudes!"

"The way I see it, all these vanilla midgets running around, they've got their spot, sure. XWF’s been real charitable, giving those little guys a moment to shine. But let's not get it twisted here, dudes! The people, the fans, they're here for the Bulkster! I'm the cash cow, the golden goose, the reason all of Hades is bursting at the seams! That's why I'm lighting up this show right from the start, brother!"

"So, let the kiddies have their playtime in the main event. It's cute. But here's a reality check for all of ya: Bulk's in the house, and I'm not here for games, brother! When those lights shine bright and the curtains rise, remember one thing, this big boy’s back, and he's here to take over, dude."

"Now, listen up, little Judge man! I've wrestled with the best, and let me tell you, brother, you ain't even close to being on that level. You may call yourself 'The Judge Mental,' but in the court of Bulkamania, you're just another rook tryin' to make a name off the back of a legend!"

“Not today, jack!”

"It's been 14 loooong years since the Bulkster graced the ring with his presence, and trust me, dude, the wrestling world has felt that void. But now, I'm back, brother! And I ain't just here to play. I'm here to show everyone why Bulkamania was, is, and always will be the pinnacle of professional wrestling!"

Leaning into the camera, his blue eyes glittering with intensity, he continues.

"Victor, I've seen your type before. Every time I'd lace up my boots, there'd be some new kid on the block thinkin' he's got what it takes. But when you're in that squared circle with me, brother, all your judgements, all your sentences — they mean nothing, dude! 'Cause in there, there's only one law: the LAW OF BULKAMANIA! And that law states I run wild on you, dude!"

"Judge, dude, you better have your day in court, because come Relentless, it's gonna be nothing but a reckoning. And after I'm done with you..."

"Wait, dudes! Let's not forget about the ladies! I've been getting letters, tweets, and everything in between from all the beautiful women out there who've missed seeing the Bulkster oiled up and in action. And trust me, ladies, the feeling's mutual. I predict the female attendance for Relentless will be at an all-time high, all because they wanna see the return of the real main attraction *thumbing himself*  yours truly."

Flashing a mischievous wink, Bulk seems more confident than ever.

"Oh, and there's another lady out there that I can't wait to squeeze oh so tight, dude! Let's talk about my second opponent at Relentless.”

“Oh, man, you can't make this stuff up.”

“Dolly Waters, a former child prodigy, huh? More like a child who should've stayed in the kiddie pool instead of jumping into the ocean with sharks like the Bulkster!"

Bulk shook his head, clearly amused.

"Yeah, I read her stats, I watched the tapes. All 5-foot-5 and 120 pounds of her. You’re lookin' good, kid, but this isn't a beauty pageant, this is professional wrestling! Sure, she's got some moves, but against me? All her spinning back-fists, mule-kicks, and her, what's it called...Rolling Waters? Ha! They're just a drop in the ocean compared to the power of Bulkamania, dude!"

"You see, Dolly's got some weaknesses, easily overpowered by larger foes. Well, news flash, little lady, you're stepping into the ring with Bulk Logan, the epitome of 'larger foe.' I'll be more than happy to big boot that pretty little head right off your shoulders, brother!"

"And let's talk about this BOB fella she's been slumming around with. BOB, if you're watching this, no hard feelings dude, I don't really care about you. Just like I don't care about Dolly Waters. But since the young lass thinks she's ready for the big time, I'll introduce her to her old pals, Doom and Gloom, when I crush her sternum with the Leg Drop of Gloom!"

"Look, I've seen Dolly Waters, and doom and gloom seem to be her best friends. Well, guess what, sweetheart? I'm arranging a little playdate for ya! The Bulkster loves bringing people together, you know?"

"So Dolly, lace up your boots real tight and pull that hair into the most secure bun you've ever made. Because when you step into the ring with me, brother, you're not just stepping into the ring. Nah, you're stepping into a world of hurt, a world where Bulkamania runs wild on YOU!"

"So, What’cha gonna do, Dolly, when the biggest box office draw in wrestling, the man who's gonna spike female attendance through the roof, decides it's time to add another loss to that lame prodigy nonsense? Bulkamania's running wild, and Bulk's earning that TV title shot, brothers!"

Fade on Bulk flexing]]>