<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - March Madness VI 2024 RP Boards]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Thu, 07 May 2026 08:12:40 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Marching Into Madness]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47467 Sun, 24 Mar 2024 00:00:39 -0700 Davey Dunham]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47467 Click Here]]> Click Here]]> <![CDATA[Sowing Thoughts]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47466 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 23:57:37 -0700 Ned Kaye]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47466

Sowing Thoughts



The chaotic sounds of The Notorious Gym carried through the brownstone that hosted it. For almost as long as Ned had been in the XWF, it stood, taking all comers. Offering to those with a little time and a meager expense a chance to improve themselves. A chance to grow. The rhythmic drones of treadmills with the clanking metal of various weights giving the entire establishment a beautiful melody. It was one Ned often adored basking in, gazing upon the opportunity he had fought to give to others.

The sounds were muffled behind the door of Ned’s office.

He leaned against his desk, eyes intent on the disparate bits of information spread out before him. A mobile whiteboard stared back at him, its glossy surface so covered with scraps of paper and photographs, that it nearly couldn’t reflect the dim light shining towards it. He had placed every single one over the course of a few weeks, the paper soft on his hands attempting to nick his skin on its edges.The slight roughness of the string, its soft splinters prodding his fingertips as he taped the bits of information that seemed to align. Soft residue of weak glue from strips of tape collecting on his fingers.

The murders in New York that Crucible had been keeping an eye on had risen to twelve, each victim carrying an association with some aspect of NYC’s criminal element, but lacking any grand coherency. A youth center, a wannabe heir to a crime lord, and the looming question of a possible hitman. And all of it seemed to orbit around one suspect: the father of Ned’s very own tag-team partner. A cyclone of circumstance singling out one target. The circle was almost too perfect, a conclusion so clean that it begged to be manufactured. But Isaiah, now rechristened Prince Adeyemi, was Ned’s ally. More than that, his friend.

Could he risk being right?

And that was without dwelling on his sponsor, Amelia, whose avoidance of him had grown from suspicious to downright concerning. He trusted both of them and promised to uphold it, but now lives were in the balance. Who was paying the cost of that trust? What was his responsibility to them?

He exhaled, forcing the thoughts to the side as he attempted to find a connecting factor to all of it.

An overlooked piece?

His gaze settled on an empty space, in-between the clippings and photographs, seeing only his reflection.

The door to his office swung open, one of the gym’s employees with a concerned expression bursting in.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked, her growing dread readily apparent. She stepped towards him, handing him a piece of paper, its plasticy texture feeling smooth to the touch, edges jagged against his palms.

“This just got dropped off today,” she answered, motioning downwards for Ned to read its header. It didn’t take long for Ned to understand her dismay. Another reflection.

Legal notice.

---------------------

‘Here at Maxwell Mansion & Associates, we want to give you the legal recourse you deserve! Your company’s name not being given the respect it deserves? We got ya! Pesky whistleblowers trying to weasel past an NDA? NBD! Disputes with renters? Get their money and get em’ out! That’s the guarantee only true masters of the law like us can offer! Remember, if I can’t give you the max mansion, then my name’s not Max Mansion!”

Ned’s suit clung to his body, trying to ignore the tacky commercial being played in the otherwise standard looking legal office. Sterile, with a lifeless blue tint in the tile and wooden tables the color of cheap milk chocolate. Eight floors up on a high rise, the office’s windows overlooked the city just enough so the smaller buildings concealed the people below while giving an excellent view of the skyscrapers surrounding it. He inhaled, still feeling the tight grip of fabric around his throat, deciding to loosen the top two buttons.

“I don’t think  I’ve met anyone else so melodramatic about being well-dressed,” Theo Pryce stated, having walked into the office, taking a seat next to Ned. The commercial continued to blare at the two, but company made the barrage of pandering to power more tolerable..

“So,” Pryce’s demeanor shifted from his effortless confidence as he asked the question Ned had struggled to articulate, “why did you ask me here?”

Ned glanced towards the window, in the direction of where his gym would be seen if not for the massive towers cascaded before it.

“The company I leased the building for The Notorious Gym from is trying to end my lease suddenly,” Ned answered solemnly.

Theo shrugged, sympathetic, but visibly unaffected by the news, “Doesn’t that place take up a good chunk of your salary, barely managing to break even?”

“That’s not-”

“And it collects dust like a motherfucker.”

“Again-”

“If I remember correctly, you’ve had to shut it down temporarily a few times, too.”

“Theo!” Ned’s voice raised as his body lurched forward in his seat, “I’m not arguing that it hasn’t been a sacrifice or tough to keep up with, but it’s a place I helped build along with so many friends and allies! Plus, I take the hit financially so that people can afford to actually go to the gym. I don’t care about the money! I do it to help people and that’s being endangered. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

Theo’s expression made his answer apparent.

Ned sighed, chuckling as he realized how ill-fated his appeal was, “You know, sometimes you almost seem like a human being.”[/color][/font]

“Oh, Ned,” Theo lightly gripped onto his coat, “I’m almost hurt.”

Lifting his body up, Ned turned to Theo, searching for an alternative manner to express the importance at play.

“It matters to me.”

Theo’s pupils scanned over Ned, emoting more than the rest of his face. They were from separate worlds, irreconcilable ones to most. Yet, Theo had some sort of appreciation for Ned. Kaye didn’t dare refer to it as a fondness, but it was a form of loyalty and respect. He hid much in that suit, still, he seemed to understand.

“My, my, my,” A man wearing a brightly colored tan suit stepped into the waiting area to greet Ned and Theo, his faux-smile matching the one on the television behind him, “Maxwell Mansion at your service gentlemen! It’s always lovely to bear witness to some punctuality.”

He stuck out his mitt for a handshake, starting with Theo and, in lieu of the former’s refusal, opted for a short one from Ned.

“Right this way,” Maxwell pointed them towards his office proper, his smirk faltering slightly as Ned hesitated.

“One question real quick.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you showing a commercial of yourself in your own office?” Ned asked, his tone making the inquiry come off more blunt.

“Well, you see-,” Max gestured with his hands, clearly stalling for an answer, “consider it an additional layer of customer confidence! That’s the kind of man I strive to be!”

“Clearly,” Theo added.

The desk of Maxwell Mansion had been hastily cleared off, much of the debris that had presumably occupied the top having been shoveled into a bin to the side. The carpet looked rough to the touch, like an old arcade flooring that had become stiff and faded with time. It graveled beneath the wheels of the rolling chairs, a primordial gurgle from below, gasping for death. The sound was drowned out by the gentle rattle of ice cubes tumbling into a glass, a bitter, brief cackle soothed by the flowing amber that followed them.

“Whiskey?” Max asked, sliding the drink in front of Ned. Kaye’s eyes never bothered to even glance downward.

“No,” Ned answered sternly. Theo’s hand intercepted the glass, keeping a firm grip on it.

“He’s a recovering alcoholic,” Theo added before Max finished prepping another glass, opting to keep it.

“Oh, my mistake,” Maxwell placed a hand on his chest as he apologized, his face contorting in exaggerated regret, “how long have you been sober?”

“One year,” Kaye answered, his voice cold enough without the ice.

“Ah,” Max’s eyebrows danced, taking an exaggerated sip, slurping the liquor from its prison. Pryce took a drink, ensuring it was far more courteous to the ears.

“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” Mansion rubbed his hands together, before intertwining his fingers at the interdigits, “the lessor is dissatisfied and feels that you have sufficiently broken the terms of your lease. Now, in lieu of implementing a hefty fine, my client feels a far more amicable solution-”

“Hold up,” Theo raised a palm, ceasing the spiel before it could go any further, why do you think Ned violated the lease? That’s a bold conclusion to come to out of the blue.”

“Oh, not out of the blue, not at all,” the words dripped from Maxwell’s lips like fermented honey, “see, your friend here had a very public breakdown a while back. Becoming a drunken supervillain then becoming a faceless imitator. Shame for him, he couldn’t imitate someone following the terms of his contract, tsk, tsk. He left the operation of his “gym” to his brother and a childhood friend when the lessor fully expected him to be involved in the upkeep and not to effectively sublet.”

Theo snorted slightly, amused by the attempts of this bargain bin ambulance chaser, “that’s a hell of a leap to make. And you’re hoping a court would back you up based on that logic?”

Mansion raised up his hands, attempting to look oblivious, “who knows, Mr Pryce? Who knows what they’ll think if they find out your buddy had been using it like a home for going on five years now?”

Maxwell’s attention shifted to Kaye, the beginnings of a true smile forming on his lips, “what do you think? You gonna deny that’s what you were up to?”

“I-” Ned couldn’t get the words out fully before Theo stopped him.

“You don’t have to answer that,” He anchored his elbows on the desk, resting his chin across his knuckles, peering through the man with the insight a thousand company meetings affords you, “Alright, Mansion, what’s your angle?”

Incredulously, Mansion’s demeanor once again shifted to blissful innocence, “I don’t have an angle, but hypothetically speaking, perhaps Ned’s little attempt at charity doesn’t provide much in the way of income for my client and they’re looking to something more… profitable.”

“Like what?” Ned’s stomach twisted before the answer even came, Mansion flipping out the lights and using a small remote to project an image on the blinds behind him, somewhat faint given the time of day. Still, the gaudy green logo of a mountain was clear to see.

“Behold, a lovely proposition to take this musty old beat up establishment and add it to the prestigious Everest’s Peak Spa & Workout franchise! Where once, you have a couple dozen penniless nobodies prancing about this relic, now you can inspire some real money to have a real good time relaxing in the exotic Blandiarium Imitation Mud that they assure me they procured legally!”

“You’re going to take the Notorious Gym and turn it into a spa?” Ned asked, his voice flat.

“Well, not me personally, but they-”

“They’re going to take a place that gives real people access to a gym and turn it into a spa.”

“Uh- y-yes-” Max tried to regain control, but the revelation had brought certain consequences and he would have to accept them.

“They’re going to take my gym and turn it into some overpriced, wasteful, mass market money trap?” Ned’s ire for the concept was quiet, but burnt as intensely. An invisible flame on the track.

“...& Workout,” Mansion added sheepishly.

“Why?” The word was as jagged as his reaction to the plan.

Maxwell fingers danced, typing the air, “It’s the way things are going, Mr. Kaye. See, stories like yours are inspiring in that “look at this little dog that managed to walk home on three legs” sort of way. But that only takes you so far! Sure, you’ll get one big newsday, but the big money gets what it wants! They’re born into it. The world bends to their will and we move to let them have their way and get some scraps for good behavior. They get to be the name plastered on the signs and you get…”

Mansion shrugged, shoving an agreement towards Ned, “...this.”

Ned scanned over the offer. In order to avoid a fine, all it would take was the equipment already in the gym. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to keep it anyway, but it was an extra layer of domination. A twist of the knife for the sake of making the wound larger.

Theo stood, tapping on Ned’s shoulder as he gestured towards the lobby once more, “Excuse us, Max, we’re going to have a conversation.”

“Oh, absolutely! Talk it over as much as you need to!” Maxwell smiled, winking at Ned as he stepped out of the office, adding one final statement, one that sent chills down his spine, “It’s nice to have that big money on your side, huh?”

Theo’s eyes rolled as soon as they were out of the sight of Max Mansion, wiping the hand that had touched the same glass against his shirt, “Alright, first things first, we’re going to get you a proper lawyer. If they had a problem with you not being there over a year ago, then they had ample time to terminate the lease sooner-”

Ned’s thoughts lingered on the final comment, his skin feeling grimy.

“They want to shove their weight around, but if it goes to trial, the odds of them being able to force a fine on you is absurd. Worst case, we get them to pay for a new gym, maybe twice the size. Might take a while, but I’ve stomped worse than Maxwell Mansion and some spa company-”

“Theo,” Ned cut him off, “it’s also because I lived there. I did.”

“Those specifics aren’t important,” Pryce attempted to reassure,Ned’s voice raising in disbelief at the notion.

“Of course it is! You want me to lie to get one over on them?”

“I’m not advising perjury, just… portray the truth favorably.”

A laugh forced its way out of Ned, slightly chewing on his lower lip in frustration afterwards, “That sure sounds like a fancy way of lying.”

Theo’s patience dropped, just shy of shattering entirely, “You made such a big deal of how important this is for you, you request I be here, I give you my time and now you’ve got problems? Ned, it’s transparent that they’re breaking the rules in this instance.”

“So, I get to bend them? I just decide something doesn’t apply to me?”

“I’m so sorry. I forgot your integrity is so sacred that sacrificing a hint of it for a good endeavor just once is too much.”

“It’s never just once,” Ned replied sternly.

Growing silent, Pryce turned to the window, glancing upwards at the offices he typically found himself in.

“If I don’t always keep my word, then it never means anything. This is a case where some money hops in and starts throwing its weight around. I can choose to keep that cycle or buck it.”

“At a cost, Ned,” Theo added, doing his best to remain sympathetic, “ultimately, it’s your decision. I can’t make you choose, but I’m on your side here. They want to push around my talent and I’m willing to show them where that gets them.”

Theo turned around. Ned had made his choice before a word had left Theo’s lips.


The Notorious Gym had a neon sign, one lovingly commissioned by Ned’s childhood friend, Ethan Davis.

It had one.

The sign, clumsily removed, had fallen, bursting against the ground in a mangle of glass and metal. Ned could see it from his new apartment, the cramped interior furnished with a few of his things with a perfect view of the destruction of that once sacred little brownstone. They hadn’t waited to clean the rubble of The Notorious Gym’s sign before placing the new Everest’s Peak one outside, content to let the remnants remain the shadow above.

Ned didn’t watch the scene for long.

Shutting the blinds, he shifted his body back to go grab the last bit of furniture from his apartment. He shoved the question of why this happened as far down as it would go, trying to suppress it until the air stopped bubbling up. Sometimes, greed is the only explanation. Sometimes, that’s all it has to be.

He began rolling in the whiteboard, adorned with its clues and pictures and string and tape. It jutted, getting stuck on something else as he tried to fit it through the doorway, failing with each attempt.




Ned stands atop the building that once housed his gym, looking over at the horizon. A somber atmosphere hangs in the hair, but the Universal Championship glitters in the dim light as well as the bright.

“Surroundings.”

“They define us as much as we define them. What we cultivate. And as soon as I laid eyes on Sebastian Everett-Bryce, I had him pegged. He wants to be incredibly complex and interesting, but just like every rich guy wrestler, he’s a pair of designer shoes thinking he’s work boots. A bad guy? No, but he doesn't have to be a bad guy to be bad for this title. His view of what this championship means is warped. And it's warped because of what he wants his surroundings to be.”

“Seb acts like he’s fine taking the avarice his father crafted his family’s legacy around and burning it until the ashes turn pale, but he doesn’t throw away the fancy suits, he doesn’t hesitate setting up elaborate business meetings and shifting into the skin that’s defined him and his name for ages, and he sure as hell is fine keeping the presentation even when he appears in wrestling promotions. He wears rebellion like an edgy teen buying pre-cut jeans. See, Seb, you aren’t mad that your father gave you a silver spoon, you’re disappointed it didn’t have your first name embossed on it. It’s that ego that pushed you into Pantheon and it’s what has brought you here to the XWF. When your friends came in and challenged for the Tag Team Titles, I called their entire schtick immediately because I have seen a million people like you, competitors who see gold and nothing else. Here’s a pop quiz for you Seb, can you name any Universal Champions? Have you even bothered to learn the history of what you wish to earn here? You walked into this company to become a triple champion. I became a wrestler to be the XWF Universal Champion.”

“Let me give you some of those names you didn’t bother to learn: ALIAS, Raion Kido, Bobby Bourbon, Robert Main, Gator, Theo Pryce, Mark Flynn, and Isaiah King. They count on me, Seb, whether they know it or not. Everything I do represents the title they fought, bled, and sacrificed for! When I step in the ring, regardless of if I speak or wrestle, the world gazes upon me and judgment accompanies the spotlight. That’s what this gig is. That’s the responsibility. Not what any one person sees of me, but what I bestow upon this.”

Ned taps his finger on the faceplate of the Universal Title Belt.

“You tapped out to Mark and then immediately started talking about how you couldn’t be seen by me like that. Your suit got torn and you had to focus on mending the seam for the eyes of another. What about you, Seb? You didn’t seem so concerned that you lost as much as you were that I would know. You wanna know a secret, Seb? All of those names I mentioned aren’t the ones judging me everytime I defend this title. I am. I do it for me. The power you give me over you is the power I exert over myself. I stand up and set an example not because it’s just the right thing to do, but because I want to do the right thing. I saw that vain side of you coming the second I heard the chorus to Fame. Carefully keeping up the image- the brand. A suit with nothing underneath but a dress shirt. You ask why you weren’t named Lawrence or Wilfred. Here’s a better question: would you squander those names, too? You hopped into the XWF to try and pick up a fancy line to put under a name you’re not even sure you want. You’re not trying to compete, you’re trying to fill a hole.”

“The sad thing is that I don’t dislike you. Hell, what’s there to dislike? That’s the problem with being empty, Seb. You’ve sanded down so much of yourself to the point that the most polarizing thing about you is your hairstyle. People feel strongly about me, Seb. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I say what I see. You’re the kind of man who has to file a report to express an emotion. You sleepwalk through every sentence, thinking you’re adding emphasis instead of just being a tool with extra steps. You’re a company calendar. Theo Pryce minus the personality. See, Theo’s not someone anyone would call perfect, but he loves this company for what it is. You’d turn this place into a spa! A place to trim your nails! That’s your surroundings! A lavish, empty facade! I went through Hell and back to get this belt and prove myself worth being this company’s champion! To make this a place where anyone can come and improve alongside others! Do you know how many nights I spent striving to be here? The XWF gave me hope when the world seemed hopeless. It taught me that there could be a place where despite everything else, some kid from Brooklyn could prove he belonged. I made a home here and to watch you act like you’re owed one when you’ve been handed opportunity after opportunity makes my stomach churn.”

“So, we’re not going to just have a match. We’re going to have an Ultimate X match. A showcase of nearly every aspect of this sport I love and this place I call home, draped underneath the letter that encapsulates this place best. At March Madness, I’m going to prove to you what this company means. What your 200 dollar haircut can’t honor. In your own eyes, you’re a man who burns legacies. I’m a man who builds them. And when I’ve climbed across the ropes dangling above us and I’ve secured the Universal Title in my hands, the lights will surround us and you will be standing in a shadow you can’t comprehend. A legacy you can’t burn down.”

“I call myself the soul of the XWF because I am its unbridled spirit. Out there, in business rooms and offices, you have my number, but in here I am unstoppable. I was forged here, gave my all for here, and I will stand tall no matter what, adding chapter after chapter to the story of this place. Because I owe the XWF everything, so I give it everything. But you’ve barely given it an ounce of yourself and now you want to stand atop it. To gaze down from its peak and call it your own. But glory’s grasp over your gaze is what keeps it from your grip. You are fighting for a title. I am fighting for a principle and I don’t treat my principles lightly. So, at March Madness, when the bell rings, you will not only gaze up at the Universal Championship. You will gaze up at the man who exemplifies what it means to hold it.”

“Welcome to the XWF, Everett-Bryce. You’ve got a long way to go.”]]>

Sowing Thoughts



The chaotic sounds of The Notorious Gym carried through the brownstone that hosted it. For almost as long as Ned had been in the XWF, it stood, taking all comers. Offering to those with a little time and a meager expense a chance to improve themselves. A chance to grow. The rhythmic drones of treadmills with the clanking metal of various weights giving the entire establishment a beautiful melody. It was one Ned often adored basking in, gazing upon the opportunity he had fought to give to others.

The sounds were muffled behind the door of Ned’s office.

He leaned against his desk, eyes intent on the disparate bits of information spread out before him. A mobile whiteboard stared back at him, its glossy surface so covered with scraps of paper and photographs, that it nearly couldn’t reflect the dim light shining towards it. He had placed every single one over the course of a few weeks, the paper soft on his hands attempting to nick his skin on its edges.The slight roughness of the string, its soft splinters prodding his fingertips as he taped the bits of information that seemed to align. Soft residue of weak glue from strips of tape collecting on his fingers.

The murders in New York that Crucible had been keeping an eye on had risen to twelve, each victim carrying an association with some aspect of NYC’s criminal element, but lacking any grand coherency. A youth center, a wannabe heir to a crime lord, and the looming question of a possible hitman. And all of it seemed to orbit around one suspect: the father of Ned’s very own tag-team partner. A cyclone of circumstance singling out one target. The circle was almost too perfect, a conclusion so clean that it begged to be manufactured. But Isaiah, now rechristened Prince Adeyemi, was Ned’s ally. More than that, his friend.

Could he risk being right?

And that was without dwelling on his sponsor, Amelia, whose avoidance of him had grown from suspicious to downright concerning. He trusted both of them and promised to uphold it, but now lives were in the balance. Who was paying the cost of that trust? What was his responsibility to them?

He exhaled, forcing the thoughts to the side as he attempted to find a connecting factor to all of it.

An overlooked piece?

His gaze settled on an empty space, in-between the clippings and photographs, seeing only his reflection.

The door to his office swung open, one of the gym’s employees with a concerned expression bursting in.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked, her growing dread readily apparent. She stepped towards him, handing him a piece of paper, its plasticy texture feeling smooth to the touch, edges jagged against his palms.

“This just got dropped off today,” she answered, motioning downwards for Ned to read its header. It didn’t take long for Ned to understand her dismay. Another reflection.

Legal notice.

---------------------

‘Here at Maxwell Mansion & Associates, we want to give you the legal recourse you deserve! Your company’s name not being given the respect it deserves? We got ya! Pesky whistleblowers trying to weasel past an NDA? NBD! Disputes with renters? Get their money and get em’ out! That’s the guarantee only true masters of the law like us can offer! Remember, if I can’t give you the max mansion, then my name’s not Max Mansion!”

Ned’s suit clung to his body, trying to ignore the tacky commercial being played in the otherwise standard looking legal office. Sterile, with a lifeless blue tint in the tile and wooden tables the color of cheap milk chocolate. Eight floors up on a high rise, the office’s windows overlooked the city just enough so the smaller buildings concealed the people below while giving an excellent view of the skyscrapers surrounding it. He inhaled, still feeling the tight grip of fabric around his throat, deciding to loosen the top two buttons.

“I don’t think  I’ve met anyone else so melodramatic about being well-dressed,” Theo Pryce stated, having walked into the office, taking a seat next to Ned. The commercial continued to blare at the two, but company made the barrage of pandering to power more tolerable..

“So,” Pryce’s demeanor shifted from his effortless confidence as he asked the question Ned had struggled to articulate, “why did you ask me here?”

Ned glanced towards the window, in the direction of where his gym would be seen if not for the massive towers cascaded before it.

“The company I leased the building for The Notorious Gym from is trying to end my lease suddenly,” Ned answered solemnly.

Theo shrugged, sympathetic, but visibly unaffected by the news, “Doesn’t that place take up a good chunk of your salary, barely managing to break even?”

“That’s not-”

“And it collects dust like a motherfucker.”

“Again-”

“If I remember correctly, you’ve had to shut it down temporarily a few times, too.”

“Theo!” Ned’s voice raised as his body lurched forward in his seat, “I’m not arguing that it hasn’t been a sacrifice or tough to keep up with, but it’s a place I helped build along with so many friends and allies! Plus, I take the hit financially so that people can afford to actually go to the gym. I don’t care about the money! I do it to help people and that’s being endangered. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

Theo’s expression made his answer apparent.

Ned sighed, chuckling as he realized how ill-fated his appeal was, “You know, sometimes you almost seem like a human being.”[/color][/font]

“Oh, Ned,” Theo lightly gripped onto his coat, “I’m almost hurt.”

Lifting his body up, Ned turned to Theo, searching for an alternative manner to express the importance at play.

“It matters to me.”

Theo’s pupils scanned over Ned, emoting more than the rest of his face. They were from separate worlds, irreconcilable ones to most. Yet, Theo had some sort of appreciation for Ned. Kaye didn’t dare refer to it as a fondness, but it was a form of loyalty and respect. He hid much in that suit, still, he seemed to understand.

“My, my, my,” A man wearing a brightly colored tan suit stepped into the waiting area to greet Ned and Theo, his faux-smile matching the one on the television behind him, “Maxwell Mansion at your service gentlemen! It’s always lovely to bear witness to some punctuality.”

He stuck out his mitt for a handshake, starting with Theo and, in lieu of the former’s refusal, opted for a short one from Ned.

“Right this way,” Maxwell pointed them towards his office proper, his smirk faltering slightly as Ned hesitated.

“One question real quick.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you showing a commercial of yourself in your own office?” Ned asked, his tone making the inquiry come off more blunt.

“Well, you see-,” Max gestured with his hands, clearly stalling for an answer, “consider it an additional layer of customer confidence! That’s the kind of man I strive to be!”

“Clearly,” Theo added.

The desk of Maxwell Mansion had been hastily cleared off, much of the debris that had presumably occupied the top having been shoveled into a bin to the side. The carpet looked rough to the touch, like an old arcade flooring that had become stiff and faded with time. It graveled beneath the wheels of the rolling chairs, a primordial gurgle from below, gasping for death. The sound was drowned out by the gentle rattle of ice cubes tumbling into a glass, a bitter, brief cackle soothed by the flowing amber that followed them.

“Whiskey?” Max asked, sliding the drink in front of Ned. Kaye’s eyes never bothered to even glance downward.

“No,” Ned answered sternly. Theo’s hand intercepted the glass, keeping a firm grip on it.

“He’s a recovering alcoholic,” Theo added before Max finished prepping another glass, opting to keep it.

“Oh, my mistake,” Maxwell placed a hand on his chest as he apologized, his face contorting in exaggerated regret, “how long have you been sober?”

“One year,” Kaye answered, his voice cold enough without the ice.

“Ah,” Max’s eyebrows danced, taking an exaggerated sip, slurping the liquor from its prison. Pryce took a drink, ensuring it was far more courteous to the ears.

“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” Mansion rubbed his hands together, before intertwining his fingers at the interdigits, “the lessor is dissatisfied and feels that you have sufficiently broken the terms of your lease. Now, in lieu of implementing a hefty fine, my client feels a far more amicable solution-”

“Hold up,” Theo raised a palm, ceasing the spiel before it could go any further, why do you think Ned violated the lease? That’s a bold conclusion to come to out of the blue.”

“Oh, not out of the blue, not at all,” the words dripped from Maxwell’s lips like fermented honey, “see, your friend here had a very public breakdown a while back. Becoming a drunken supervillain then becoming a faceless imitator. Shame for him, he couldn’t imitate someone following the terms of his contract, tsk, tsk. He left the operation of his “gym” to his brother and a childhood friend when the lessor fully expected him to be involved in the upkeep and not to effectively sublet.”

Theo snorted slightly, amused by the attempts of this bargain bin ambulance chaser, “that’s a hell of a leap to make. And you’re hoping a court would back you up based on that logic?”

Mansion raised up his hands, attempting to look oblivious, “who knows, Mr Pryce? Who knows what they’ll think if they find out your buddy had been using it like a home for going on five years now?”

Maxwell’s attention shifted to Kaye, the beginnings of a true smile forming on his lips, “what do you think? You gonna deny that’s what you were up to?”

“I-” Ned couldn’t get the words out fully before Theo stopped him.

“You don’t have to answer that,” He anchored his elbows on the desk, resting his chin across his knuckles, peering through the man with the insight a thousand company meetings affords you, “Alright, Mansion, what’s your angle?”

Incredulously, Mansion’s demeanor once again shifted to blissful innocence, “I don’t have an angle, but hypothetically speaking, perhaps Ned’s little attempt at charity doesn’t provide much in the way of income for my client and they’re looking to something more… profitable.”

“Like what?” Ned’s stomach twisted before the answer even came, Mansion flipping out the lights and using a small remote to project an image on the blinds behind him, somewhat faint given the time of day. Still, the gaudy green logo of a mountain was clear to see.

“Behold, a lovely proposition to take this musty old beat up establishment and add it to the prestigious Everest’s Peak Spa & Workout franchise! Where once, you have a couple dozen penniless nobodies prancing about this relic, now you can inspire some real money to have a real good time relaxing in the exotic Blandiarium Imitation Mud that they assure me they procured legally!”

“You’re going to take the Notorious Gym and turn it into a spa?” Ned asked, his voice flat.

“Well, not me personally, but they-”

“They’re going to take a place that gives real people access to a gym and turn it into a spa.”

“Uh- y-yes-” Max tried to regain control, but the revelation had brought certain consequences and he would have to accept them.

“They’re going to take my gym and turn it into some overpriced, wasteful, mass market money trap?” Ned’s ire for the concept was quiet, but burnt as intensely. An invisible flame on the track.

“...& Workout,” Mansion added sheepishly.

“Why?” The word was as jagged as his reaction to the plan.

Maxwell fingers danced, typing the air, “It’s the way things are going, Mr. Kaye. See, stories like yours are inspiring in that “look at this little dog that managed to walk home on three legs” sort of way. But that only takes you so far! Sure, you’ll get one big newsday, but the big money gets what it wants! They’re born into it. The world bends to their will and we move to let them have their way and get some scraps for good behavior. They get to be the name plastered on the signs and you get…”

Mansion shrugged, shoving an agreement towards Ned, “...this.”

Ned scanned over the offer. In order to avoid a fine, all it would take was the equipment already in the gym. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to keep it anyway, but it was an extra layer of domination. A twist of the knife for the sake of making the wound larger.

Theo stood, tapping on Ned’s shoulder as he gestured towards the lobby once more, “Excuse us, Max, we’re going to have a conversation.”

“Oh, absolutely! Talk it over as much as you need to!” Maxwell smiled, winking at Ned as he stepped out of the office, adding one final statement, one that sent chills down his spine, “It’s nice to have that big money on your side, huh?”

Theo’s eyes rolled as soon as they were out of the sight of Max Mansion, wiping the hand that had touched the same glass against his shirt, “Alright, first things first, we’re going to get you a proper lawyer. If they had a problem with you not being there over a year ago, then they had ample time to terminate the lease sooner-”

Ned’s thoughts lingered on the final comment, his skin feeling grimy.

“They want to shove their weight around, but if it goes to trial, the odds of them being able to force a fine on you is absurd. Worst case, we get them to pay for a new gym, maybe twice the size. Might take a while, but I’ve stomped worse than Maxwell Mansion and some spa company-”

“Theo,” Ned cut him off, “it’s also because I lived there. I did.”

“Those specifics aren’t important,” Pryce attempted to reassure,Ned’s voice raising in disbelief at the notion.

“Of course it is! You want me to lie to get one over on them?”

“I’m not advising perjury, just… portray the truth favorably.”

A laugh forced its way out of Ned, slightly chewing on his lower lip in frustration afterwards, “That sure sounds like a fancy way of lying.”

Theo’s patience dropped, just shy of shattering entirely, “You made such a big deal of how important this is for you, you request I be here, I give you my time and now you’ve got problems? Ned, it’s transparent that they’re breaking the rules in this instance.”

“So, I get to bend them? I just decide something doesn’t apply to me?”

“I’m so sorry. I forgot your integrity is so sacred that sacrificing a hint of it for a good endeavor just once is too much.”

“It’s never just once,” Ned replied sternly.

Growing silent, Pryce turned to the window, glancing upwards at the offices he typically found himself in.

“If I don’t always keep my word, then it never means anything. This is a case where some money hops in and starts throwing its weight around. I can choose to keep that cycle or buck it.”

“At a cost, Ned,” Theo added, doing his best to remain sympathetic, “ultimately, it’s your decision. I can’t make you choose, but I’m on your side here. They want to push around my talent and I’m willing to show them where that gets them.”

Theo turned around. Ned had made his choice before a word had left Theo’s lips.


The Notorious Gym had a neon sign, one lovingly commissioned by Ned’s childhood friend, Ethan Davis.

It had one.

The sign, clumsily removed, had fallen, bursting against the ground in a mangle of glass and metal. Ned could see it from his new apartment, the cramped interior furnished with a few of his things with a perfect view of the destruction of that once sacred little brownstone. They hadn’t waited to clean the rubble of The Notorious Gym’s sign before placing the new Everest’s Peak one outside, content to let the remnants remain the shadow above.

Ned didn’t watch the scene for long.

Shutting the blinds, he shifted his body back to go grab the last bit of furniture from his apartment. He shoved the question of why this happened as far down as it would go, trying to suppress it until the air stopped bubbling up. Sometimes, greed is the only explanation. Sometimes, that’s all it has to be.

He began rolling in the whiteboard, adorned with its clues and pictures and string and tape. It jutted, getting stuck on something else as he tried to fit it through the doorway, failing with each attempt.




Ned stands atop the building that once housed his gym, looking over at the horizon. A somber atmosphere hangs in the hair, but the Universal Championship glitters in the dim light as well as the bright.

“Surroundings.”

“They define us as much as we define them. What we cultivate. And as soon as I laid eyes on Sebastian Everett-Bryce, I had him pegged. He wants to be incredibly complex and interesting, but just like every rich guy wrestler, he’s a pair of designer shoes thinking he’s work boots. A bad guy? No, but he doesn't have to be a bad guy to be bad for this title. His view of what this championship means is warped. And it's warped because of what he wants his surroundings to be.”

“Seb acts like he’s fine taking the avarice his father crafted his family’s legacy around and burning it until the ashes turn pale, but he doesn’t throw away the fancy suits, he doesn’t hesitate setting up elaborate business meetings and shifting into the skin that’s defined him and his name for ages, and he sure as hell is fine keeping the presentation even when he appears in wrestling promotions. He wears rebellion like an edgy teen buying pre-cut jeans. See, Seb, you aren’t mad that your father gave you a silver spoon, you’re disappointed it didn’t have your first name embossed on it. It’s that ego that pushed you into Pantheon and it’s what has brought you here to the XWF. When your friends came in and challenged for the Tag Team Titles, I called their entire schtick immediately because I have seen a million people like you, competitors who see gold and nothing else. Here’s a pop quiz for you Seb, can you name any Universal Champions? Have you even bothered to learn the history of what you wish to earn here? You walked into this company to become a triple champion. I became a wrestler to be the XWF Universal Champion.”

“Let me give you some of those names you didn’t bother to learn: ALIAS, Raion Kido, Bobby Bourbon, Robert Main, Gator, Theo Pryce, Mark Flynn, and Isaiah King. They count on me, Seb, whether they know it or not. Everything I do represents the title they fought, bled, and sacrificed for! When I step in the ring, regardless of if I speak or wrestle, the world gazes upon me and judgment accompanies the spotlight. That’s what this gig is. That’s the responsibility. Not what any one person sees of me, but what I bestow upon this.”

Ned taps his finger on the faceplate of the Universal Title Belt.

“You tapped out to Mark and then immediately started talking about how you couldn’t be seen by me like that. Your suit got torn and you had to focus on mending the seam for the eyes of another. What about you, Seb? You didn’t seem so concerned that you lost as much as you were that I would know. You wanna know a secret, Seb? All of those names I mentioned aren’t the ones judging me everytime I defend this title. I am. I do it for me. The power you give me over you is the power I exert over myself. I stand up and set an example not because it’s just the right thing to do, but because I want to do the right thing. I saw that vain side of you coming the second I heard the chorus to Fame. Carefully keeping up the image- the brand. A suit with nothing underneath but a dress shirt. You ask why you weren’t named Lawrence or Wilfred. Here’s a better question: would you squander those names, too? You hopped into the XWF to try and pick up a fancy line to put under a name you’re not even sure you want. You’re not trying to compete, you’re trying to fill a hole.”

“The sad thing is that I don’t dislike you. Hell, what’s there to dislike? That’s the problem with being empty, Seb. You’ve sanded down so much of yourself to the point that the most polarizing thing about you is your hairstyle. People feel strongly about me, Seb. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I say what I see. You’re the kind of man who has to file a report to express an emotion. You sleepwalk through every sentence, thinking you’re adding emphasis instead of just being a tool with extra steps. You’re a company calendar. Theo Pryce minus the personality. See, Theo’s not someone anyone would call perfect, but he loves this company for what it is. You’d turn this place into a spa! A place to trim your nails! That’s your surroundings! A lavish, empty facade! I went through Hell and back to get this belt and prove myself worth being this company’s champion! To make this a place where anyone can come and improve alongside others! Do you know how many nights I spent striving to be here? The XWF gave me hope when the world seemed hopeless. It taught me that there could be a place where despite everything else, some kid from Brooklyn could prove he belonged. I made a home here and to watch you act like you’re owed one when you’ve been handed opportunity after opportunity makes my stomach churn.”

“So, we’re not going to just have a match. We’re going to have an Ultimate X match. A showcase of nearly every aspect of this sport I love and this place I call home, draped underneath the letter that encapsulates this place best. At March Madness, I’m going to prove to you what this company means. What your 200 dollar haircut can’t honor. In your own eyes, you’re a man who burns legacies. I’m a man who builds them. And when I’ve climbed across the ropes dangling above us and I’ve secured the Universal Title in my hands, the lights will surround us and you will be standing in a shadow you can’t comprehend. A legacy you can’t burn down.”

“I call myself the soul of the XWF because I am its unbridled spirit. Out there, in business rooms and offices, you have my number, but in here I am unstoppable. I was forged here, gave my all for here, and I will stand tall no matter what, adding chapter after chapter to the story of this place. Because I owe the XWF everything, so I give it everything. But you’ve barely given it an ounce of yourself and now you want to stand atop it. To gaze down from its peak and call it your own. But glory’s grasp over your gaze is what keeps it from your grip. You are fighting for a title. I am fighting for a principle and I don’t treat my principles lightly. So, at March Madness, when the bell rings, you will not only gaze up at the Universal Championship. You will gaze up at the man who exemplifies what it means to hold it.”

“Welcome to the XWF, Everett-Bryce. You’ve got a long way to go.”]]> <![CDATA[A Humble Knee]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47465 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 23:54:11 -0700 BadmonAdams]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47465 CLICK HERE]]> CLICK HERE]]> <![CDATA[Control]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47464 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 23:43:29 -0700 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47464
Quote:Corey releases the schoolboy! The King of the Deathmatch gives the official a deathstare as he points to the XWF logo on his black and white shirt.

Bourbon slowly rises back to his feet... Dion rubs his eye clean!

The three are set to square up, with the X-Treme title at st-

...Suddenly the official signals to the timekeeper.

THE BELL RINGS!

Quote:JC: What the hell is going on? Is that the same ref from last Warfare? The one that blew the ending of the Mark Flynn and Sebastian Everett-Bryce match?

Quote:TD: …I did a little digging and it turns out, that IS the same ref from the Flynn and SEB match. His name is Wallace Wallace III."

Quote:Out of the back comes Theo Pryce and directly behind him is XWF's Head of Security Tommy Gunn and two of his staff.

Tommy, can you and your two friends please take this lame excuse for a ref out back and disappear him. I don't care how. I literally do not want to know what you do with him but I never want to see him again.

Tommy and his staff do as requested and literally drag Wallace Wallace III out of the ring and up the ramp where he disappears, presumably forever.

Now, the story continues...

(OOC: When you get to the bottom of a doc, and you see a link, please click it. There are five scenes total, hope you enjoy.)]]>
Quote:Corey releases the schoolboy! The King of the Deathmatch gives the official a deathstare as he points to the XWF logo on his black and white shirt.

Bourbon slowly rises back to his feet... Dion rubs his eye clean!

The three are set to square up, with the X-Treme title at st-

...Suddenly the official signals to the timekeeper.

THE BELL RINGS!

Quote:JC: What the hell is going on? Is that the same ref from last Warfare? The one that blew the ending of the Mark Flynn and Sebastian Everett-Bryce match?

Quote:TD: …I did a little digging and it turns out, that IS the same ref from the Flynn and SEB match. His name is Wallace Wallace III."

Quote:Out of the back comes Theo Pryce and directly behind him is XWF's Head of Security Tommy Gunn and two of his staff.

Tommy, can you and your two friends please take this lame excuse for a ref out back and disappear him. I don't care how. I literally do not want to know what you do with him but I never want to see him again.

Tommy and his staff do as requested and literally drag Wallace Wallace III out of the ring and up the ramp where he disappears, presumably forever.

Now, the story continues...

(OOC: When you get to the bottom of a doc, and you see a link, please click it. There are five scenes total, hope you enjoy.)]]> <![CDATA[Trial of the Century: Recess & Testimony]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47463 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 23:21:42 -0700 Dionysus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47463
"Christ is that guy insufferable."

The judge had called for a short recess, presumably to also get the ringing voice of Van Dusen out of his head like the rest of us. I took a seat on the sofa in the waiting room, rubbing a hand over my face to wake me up.

"Well, as insufferable as he may be," Gary countered, "He has been playing his part well." He took a seat next to me, looking over a file of evidence. "Scapelli certainly has all this down to an art form, it seems. And Van Dusen is making him look like his case is legitimate."

"If only he were that cordial with me when we were working together," I added.

"You know, I meant to ask you; did you ever consider just voiding the contract and paying what was owed?"

I shook my head. "William handled that arrangement. He felt like it would be letting me down if he dropped him at that stage."

"Hmm..." Gary thought aloud. "While William is a good assistant, I can't help but feel that our case would be much stronger had he been here."

"But its still a strong case," I remarked.

The silence in the room was deafening after I uttered those words.

"...I mean...it is, right?"

At that moment Charles walked into the waiting room with a glass of water. "I've been informed that we have three minutes until we are to reconvene." He handed the glass to me. "For you. Figured you could use it since we're in the line of fire now."

"Appreciated," I replied, taking a sip of the cool water. I had to admit, I didn't even think I was thirsty until I started drinking from the cup.

"Its the brace that's proving to be a problem," Gary said. "We don't have a way to prove that his injury wasn't caused by the incident."

"True," Charles replied, "but it is also their burden to show that evidence. They have only provided the supposedly incomplete security footage as proof."

"Charles, please don't be that naive," Gary sighed. "A medical document was part of the evidence pool. Clearly they want to establish a connection between the incident and the injury and will use that as their definitive proof."

"But that document could be anything," Charles argued, pointing to his own briefcase. "You know how many workplace injury cases I have reviewed; oftentimes the companies are submitting in amendments to correct dozens of forms!"

"Oh, and I suppose a shady construction company is going to fall into those same tired tropes?"

"If you would only-"

"...Wait a minute," I said, breaking up the argument. "How do we even know if he is injured?"

The two attorneys turned their eyes to me, their expressions completely dumbfounded.

"I mean think about it," I continued, "I've seen plenty of people who were either working through or recovering from neck injuries. Considering I received the summons two months ago, and the incident happened a week prior to that...doesn't that seem like an abnormally long amount of time just to heal?"

Gary shook his head. "We don't have his medical history, since the entirety is irrelevant to the case. Besides, it isn't as though you know for certain how long an injury like that can take to heal up."

I stood up in that moment, the idea finally hitting me. "Gary, I have a degree in sports medicine. Even if the medical science doesn't exactly line up, injuries like that are common enough in my line of work that we know the expected recovery time. He stumbled to the ground, he never hit his neck on anything. Even if he did manage to harm himself in the process, it would only be a four to six week recovery window at best."

"I really hate to point this out," Charles interrupted, "but the man does appear to be in a lot of pain."

"Exactly," Gary said in realization. "That's because he knows how to look like he's in pain."

Charles' eyes grew wide. "I think I know how we can win this case. But I need a few minutes to get as much information as I can."

"Do you want me to draw out his testimony?"

"And possibly the cross-examination," Charles added as he sprinted toward the door. "I'll message you once I have what I need. I'll be quick," he finished, closing the door behind him.

"So all I need to do," I said, turning to Gary, "Is stall Van Dusen until Charles gets back?"

"Afraid so," Gary replied.

I thought about that rat-faced attorney, the bile beginning to rise in my throat. "This is going to be a long trial..."

Past.

Present.

Future.

All colliding in one match at March Madness.

For myself, it was here where I had my first true test of where I stood in the XWF pecking order. Last year, I had nothing to lose, affording myself a chance to be eliminated without dropping any kind of prize.

This year, I chose to not enter, as I was close to obtaining the coveted briefcase. Fewer risks for greater rewards may not be a solid motto for a man who never turns down a good fight, but I also felt it was the correct choice at the moment.

Although losing it quickly after making said decision did make me second-guess myself.

But my entire career has been based around betting on myself. To understand my worth, and pushing myself to that value. And what better place to see my progress, against a foe that has long since eluded me, than on our home turf.

We go back a ways, Corey. I may not have the history you do, but it still feels like fighting an old war buddy to me. We've been doing this dance back-and-forth, whether on the same page or ripping each others' guts out. Your reputation precedes you.

And believe me when I tell you, you wield that reputation like a crutch.

I remember a time when the peaks of Pantheon had a very different appearance. A wildly dominant force that very few wanted to cross paths with, where each member was a threat all their own. That reputation seems to have carried over when the three of you signed at the beginning of the year.

SEB has his world title match.

Spencer Adams has the March Madness semifinals. Possibly the finals, if all plays out accordingly.

Leaving you to rush Bobby and I to cause a commotion and make this bout a three-way.

All based on one Free For All appearance and a follow-up tag match? Noooo, it surely had to be the mile-long list of accolades and accomplishments that limped you into the opportunity.

I spent the better part of a year working through this roster to prove I have what it takes, and all you need to do is walk out to the ring?

Is this what it means to be The King of All Wrestlers? To not have to wrestle at all in order to get all these opportunities handed to you on a silver platter?

I may respect what you do, but lately I wonder if you still have that fight left in you.

Lets see just how Deathproof you are.

"You may be seated."

The prosecution, defense, and gallery all took our seats. "Defense, is there anyone you would like to call at this time?"

"Your Honor," replied Gary, pointing at me, "The defense would like to call Dionysus Berget to the stand at this time." As I stood up, Gary whispered to me, "Remember, the goal here is to stall. Charles needs a few minutes, I need you to give him thirty."

"Copy," I whispered back.

I was sworn in and took my seat on the witness stand. It was a strange experience; similar to sitting at a podium, but with the judge's seat dominating the room, it felt less important, in a way. Like going to a church service and seeing a speaker read from the Bible, only to be outshined by the priest in his shimmering vestments. "Would you please state your name for the record?" asked Gary.

"Dionysus Albert Berget."

"And your occupation in this case?"

"Owner of Berget Vineyards."

Gary smiled at me. "Are there any other occupations you have?"

I smirked back. "Well I do work as a professional wrestler in my spare time."

Judge Skovald rolled his eyes, but also couldn't hide his smirk. I think I was making progress with him.

"You previously provided testimony about the events leading to the vandalism on your construction site, is that correct?"

"Yes," I said. "I don't think there is any more information I can add to that statement."

"And what about in your meeting with mister Scapelli the day after? Could you tell us, in your own words, how the incident occurred?"

I took in a deep breath, remembering the moment as vividly as I could. "After speaking with my business partner, I asked him to oversee the inspection while I traveled to mister Scapelli's office."

"Why did you decide to go to his office, instead of giving him a call?" Gary asked.

"At the moment," I replied, "I felt it was better to deliver the news in person. I didn't want to risk a bad connection over the phone or an email not being sent. Besides," I said, looking directly at Scapelli, "He had informed me that he would usually be in his office during their business hours, so I thought a visit was more appropriate."

Gary nodded. "During that meeting, what did you two discuss?"

As I started to speak, I heard a low murmuring of a crowd of people. I stopped, panning around the gallery. There were only a handful of people watching these proceedings, but the noise I was hearing was much, much louder. I placed a hand on the back of my neck, rubbing it gently to calm my nerves.

"You have nothing to worry about," Gary assured me. "All I am asking for is the truth."

I swallowed my apprehension and started again. "During that meeting, I informed mister Scapelli of what had occurred..." I paused, sighing before saying, "...and also accused his firm of being the cause of the incident."

There was a slight murmur in the gallery.

"Was there any evidence linking South Shore Construction to the vandalism?" Gary pressed.

"There was no hard evidence," I answered honestly, "but the vandalism seemed too calculated to have been done without motive, at least according to the insurance company and law enforcement."

"In other words," Gary summarized, "the vandalism could only have been carried out by someone who knew what they were doing."

"Yes," I answered. "it was too calculated, too perfect. All the right things were damaged; nothing seemed random about it."

Gary pointed to the monitor next to me. "Are you familiar with this video footage?"
"Yes."

"Does this video footage accurately depict the events that occurred in the office-"

"Objection," Van Dusen interrupted. "The witness had no knowledge of the security measures in my client's office."

Judge Skovald nodded. "Sustained."

"I shall rephrase the question," Gary continued, not the least bit disturbed. "After you spoke with Scapelli, what happened next?"

"I left him by saying I would be pursuing legal action, and turned to the door." I paused, thinking about the events as clearly as I could. "I remember turning the knob, and as I was, I felt something slam into my back...but I was already at the door and had good footing. I turned to look and saw mister Scapelli sprawled out on the floor. Then I slammed the door and walked out of the room."

"So you saw mister Scapelli on the floor and simply walked out of the room?"

"Yes, that is correct," I replied. "I wasn't sure what he would do if I tried helping him up."

"Thank you. No further questions," Gary finished, returning to his seat at the bench.
Judge Skovald nodded to Van Dusen, who cleared his throat loudly. "Mister Berget, are you trying to convince us that my client was the one who attacked you?"

"I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything," I replied. "I was asked about the events and I spoke to them."

"And yet this footage," Van Dusen paused, pointing to the monitor, "shows us nothing of my client hitting you. Is that correct?"

"That would be correct, yes."

"So you would have this court believe that my client's injuries were self-sustained?" Van Dusen pressed angrily.

"You would need to ask a doctor that question," I replied. "I just make wine and beat people up for a living."

"As a brute?"

"Objection-" Gary started to object, but...

"As a professional wrestler," I corrected Van Dusen at the same time.

Judge Skovald banged his gavel. "Mister Berget, please allow the objection to be completed first."

"Yes, Your Honor," I acknowledged. "My apologies."

"Your Honor, the prosecution is using this cross-examination to badger the witness," Gary argued.

"I am ensuring," Van Dusen countered, "that the information this man is telling us is factual. If I need to use harsh words to get there, then so be it."

"Objection sustained," Skovald commanded before anyone else could get a word in.

"Fine. You said that the vandalism couldn't be done randomly. That only someone who worked on the site would be able to do this."

"Or had a knowledge of the site, yes," I clarified.

"Then you won't have a problem going through each and every piece of damage with this court and describe to me how that could link back to my client and his company."

Gary winked at me before saying, "Objection, Your Honor; clearly the prosecution is attempting to retrieve expert opinion from the defendant, who is not an expert in the field of carpentry or construction."

"Your Honor," Van Dusen argued, "I am only asking for his observations of the damage. After all, it was on that basis that he accused my client."

Judge Skovald thought for a moment before saying, "Prosecutor, you raise an interesting point. I will permit this line of questioning, but please make it as brief as possible."

"Surely, Your Honor," Van Dusen said with gratitude, a shit-eating grin crossing his face. But little did he know, Gary and I had planned on this question being asked by him. This was the exact opening we needed to give Charles more time to find whatever it was he needed to find.

We had them in our trap. And we weren't about to let go.

Shying away from my past, now we move to my very real present.

Now Bobby, I'm fully aware of just what you represent to me. You represent a status quo, one that greatly benefits you and BOB. An entire roster filled with talent that want to continually coast by, while you present yourself as a looming threat to anyone and everyone in your way.

I'd get cute with that one, but having spent the better part of a year elevating not only my name, but other divisions as well, had me thinking that this status quo needed to change.

As I have declared before, this new era of XWF is one that isn't just based on talking the biggest game. Its backing up that game as well. I'm a man who very much embodies the spirit of competition; why should I expect anything less?

So when you claim that I "bullied" Barney, it all but confirmed what I needed to know.

I can respect the fight that Barney has while also telling him that he needs to bring more if he wants to survive the new era. Unlike you, I'm not afraid to tell people what they need to hear. What, were you expecting I lie for him?

Now I understand; you brought him into the fold and he is now the second member of BOB that I have bested. Or do I need to bring up BOB D and how I earned the Xtreme title in the first place?

Is all this misplaced anger due to you realizing how valuable of an asset I was when I first approached you about how I could join up, only to be turned away and slipping through your fingers? Or is this just another test to prove just how dastardly I can be?

In either case, the minute I was ushered out, my interest in joining waned. I was moving up just fine on my own; unwanted by the faces, unwanted by the heels, I decided that, if nobody wanted me, I will simply prove why it was a mistake to ignore me.

And it seems I have your full attention.

So I'll make it plain and simple.

First, Corey's gonna beat ya.

Then, I'm gonna beat ya.

It'll be a good ol' fashioned Corey and Dio beat-off.

And by the time you get it through your thick head that my fists hurt more than my words...

...I'll be standing over you, holding the Xtreme title in my hands in victory.

Corey is a part of my past.

You are my present.

And I aim to become the future.]]>
"Christ is that guy insufferable."

The judge had called for a short recess, presumably to also get the ringing voice of Van Dusen out of his head like the rest of us. I took a seat on the sofa in the waiting room, rubbing a hand over my face to wake me up.

"Well, as insufferable as he may be," Gary countered, "He has been playing his part well." He took a seat next to me, looking over a file of evidence. "Scapelli certainly has all this down to an art form, it seems. And Van Dusen is making him look like his case is legitimate."

"If only he were that cordial with me when we were working together," I added.

"You know, I meant to ask you; did you ever consider just voiding the contract and paying what was owed?"

I shook my head. "William handled that arrangement. He felt like it would be letting me down if he dropped him at that stage."

"Hmm..." Gary thought aloud. "While William is a good assistant, I can't help but feel that our case would be much stronger had he been here."

"But its still a strong case," I remarked.

The silence in the room was deafening after I uttered those words.

"...I mean...it is, right?"

At that moment Charles walked into the waiting room with a glass of water. "I've been informed that we have three minutes until we are to reconvene." He handed the glass to me. "For you. Figured you could use it since we're in the line of fire now."

"Appreciated," I replied, taking a sip of the cool water. I had to admit, I didn't even think I was thirsty until I started drinking from the cup.

"Its the brace that's proving to be a problem," Gary said. "We don't have a way to prove that his injury wasn't caused by the incident."

"True," Charles replied, "but it is also their burden to show that evidence. They have only provided the supposedly incomplete security footage as proof."

"Charles, please don't be that naive," Gary sighed. "A medical document was part of the evidence pool. Clearly they want to establish a connection between the incident and the injury and will use that as their definitive proof."

"But that document could be anything," Charles argued, pointing to his own briefcase. "You know how many workplace injury cases I have reviewed; oftentimes the companies are submitting in amendments to correct dozens of forms!"

"Oh, and I suppose a shady construction company is going to fall into those same tired tropes?"

"If you would only-"

"...Wait a minute," I said, breaking up the argument. "How do we even know if he is injured?"

The two attorneys turned their eyes to me, their expressions completely dumbfounded.

"I mean think about it," I continued, "I've seen plenty of people who were either working through or recovering from neck injuries. Considering I received the summons two months ago, and the incident happened a week prior to that...doesn't that seem like an abnormally long amount of time just to heal?"

Gary shook his head. "We don't have his medical history, since the entirety is irrelevant to the case. Besides, it isn't as though you know for certain how long an injury like that can take to heal up."

I stood up in that moment, the idea finally hitting me. "Gary, I have a degree in sports medicine. Even if the medical science doesn't exactly line up, injuries like that are common enough in my line of work that we know the expected recovery time. He stumbled to the ground, he never hit his neck on anything. Even if he did manage to harm himself in the process, it would only be a four to six week recovery window at best."

"I really hate to point this out," Charles interrupted, "but the man does appear to be in a lot of pain."

"Exactly," Gary said in realization. "That's because he knows how to look like he's in pain."

Charles' eyes grew wide. "I think I know how we can win this case. But I need a few minutes to get as much information as I can."

"Do you want me to draw out his testimony?"

"And possibly the cross-examination," Charles added as he sprinted toward the door. "I'll message you once I have what I need. I'll be quick," he finished, closing the door behind him.

"So all I need to do," I said, turning to Gary, "Is stall Van Dusen until Charles gets back?"

"Afraid so," Gary replied.

I thought about that rat-faced attorney, the bile beginning to rise in my throat. "This is going to be a long trial..."

Past.

Present.

Future.

All colliding in one match at March Madness.

For myself, it was here where I had my first true test of where I stood in the XWF pecking order. Last year, I had nothing to lose, affording myself a chance to be eliminated without dropping any kind of prize.

This year, I chose to not enter, as I was close to obtaining the coveted briefcase. Fewer risks for greater rewards may not be a solid motto for a man who never turns down a good fight, but I also felt it was the correct choice at the moment.

Although losing it quickly after making said decision did make me second-guess myself.

But my entire career has been based around betting on myself. To understand my worth, and pushing myself to that value. And what better place to see my progress, against a foe that has long since eluded me, than on our home turf.

We go back a ways, Corey. I may not have the history you do, but it still feels like fighting an old war buddy to me. We've been doing this dance back-and-forth, whether on the same page or ripping each others' guts out. Your reputation precedes you.

And believe me when I tell you, you wield that reputation like a crutch.

I remember a time when the peaks of Pantheon had a very different appearance. A wildly dominant force that very few wanted to cross paths with, where each member was a threat all their own. That reputation seems to have carried over when the three of you signed at the beginning of the year.

SEB has his world title match.

Spencer Adams has the March Madness semifinals. Possibly the finals, if all plays out accordingly.

Leaving you to rush Bobby and I to cause a commotion and make this bout a three-way.

All based on one Free For All appearance and a follow-up tag match? Noooo, it surely had to be the mile-long list of accolades and accomplishments that limped you into the opportunity.

I spent the better part of a year working through this roster to prove I have what it takes, and all you need to do is walk out to the ring?

Is this what it means to be The King of All Wrestlers? To not have to wrestle at all in order to get all these opportunities handed to you on a silver platter?

I may respect what you do, but lately I wonder if you still have that fight left in you.

Lets see just how Deathproof you are.

"You may be seated."

The prosecution, defense, and gallery all took our seats. "Defense, is there anyone you would like to call at this time?"

"Your Honor," replied Gary, pointing at me, "The defense would like to call Dionysus Berget to the stand at this time." As I stood up, Gary whispered to me, "Remember, the goal here is to stall. Charles needs a few minutes, I need you to give him thirty."

"Copy," I whispered back.

I was sworn in and took my seat on the witness stand. It was a strange experience; similar to sitting at a podium, but with the judge's seat dominating the room, it felt less important, in a way. Like going to a church service and seeing a speaker read from the Bible, only to be outshined by the priest in his shimmering vestments. "Would you please state your name for the record?" asked Gary.

"Dionysus Albert Berget."

"And your occupation in this case?"

"Owner of Berget Vineyards."

Gary smiled at me. "Are there any other occupations you have?"

I smirked back. "Well I do work as a professional wrestler in my spare time."

Judge Skovald rolled his eyes, but also couldn't hide his smirk. I think I was making progress with him.

"You previously provided testimony about the events leading to the vandalism on your construction site, is that correct?"

"Yes," I said. "I don't think there is any more information I can add to that statement."

"And what about in your meeting with mister Scapelli the day after? Could you tell us, in your own words, how the incident occurred?"

I took in a deep breath, remembering the moment as vividly as I could. "After speaking with my business partner, I asked him to oversee the inspection while I traveled to mister Scapelli's office."

"Why did you decide to go to his office, instead of giving him a call?" Gary asked.

"At the moment," I replied, "I felt it was better to deliver the news in person. I didn't want to risk a bad connection over the phone or an email not being sent. Besides," I said, looking directly at Scapelli, "He had informed me that he would usually be in his office during their business hours, so I thought a visit was more appropriate."

Gary nodded. "During that meeting, what did you two discuss?"

As I started to speak, I heard a low murmuring of a crowd of people. I stopped, panning around the gallery. There were only a handful of people watching these proceedings, but the noise I was hearing was much, much louder. I placed a hand on the back of my neck, rubbing it gently to calm my nerves.

"You have nothing to worry about," Gary assured me. "All I am asking for is the truth."

I swallowed my apprehension and started again. "During that meeting, I informed mister Scapelli of what had occurred..." I paused, sighing before saying, "...and also accused his firm of being the cause of the incident."

There was a slight murmur in the gallery.

"Was there any evidence linking South Shore Construction to the vandalism?" Gary pressed.

"There was no hard evidence," I answered honestly, "but the vandalism seemed too calculated to have been done without motive, at least according to the insurance company and law enforcement."

"In other words," Gary summarized, "the vandalism could only have been carried out by someone who knew what they were doing."

"Yes," I answered. "it was too calculated, too perfect. All the right things were damaged; nothing seemed random about it."

Gary pointed to the monitor next to me. "Are you familiar with this video footage?"
"Yes."

"Does this video footage accurately depict the events that occurred in the office-"

"Objection," Van Dusen interrupted. "The witness had no knowledge of the security measures in my client's office."

Judge Skovald nodded. "Sustained."

"I shall rephrase the question," Gary continued, not the least bit disturbed. "After you spoke with Scapelli, what happened next?"

"I left him by saying I would be pursuing legal action, and turned to the door." I paused, thinking about the events as clearly as I could. "I remember turning the knob, and as I was, I felt something slam into my back...but I was already at the door and had good footing. I turned to look and saw mister Scapelli sprawled out on the floor. Then I slammed the door and walked out of the room."

"So you saw mister Scapelli on the floor and simply walked out of the room?"

"Yes, that is correct," I replied. "I wasn't sure what he would do if I tried helping him up."

"Thank you. No further questions," Gary finished, returning to his seat at the bench.
Judge Skovald nodded to Van Dusen, who cleared his throat loudly. "Mister Berget, are you trying to convince us that my client was the one who attacked you?"

"I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything," I replied. "I was asked about the events and I spoke to them."

"And yet this footage," Van Dusen paused, pointing to the monitor, "shows us nothing of my client hitting you. Is that correct?"

"That would be correct, yes."

"So you would have this court believe that my client's injuries were self-sustained?" Van Dusen pressed angrily.

"You would need to ask a doctor that question," I replied. "I just make wine and beat people up for a living."

"As a brute?"

"Objection-" Gary started to object, but...

"As a professional wrestler," I corrected Van Dusen at the same time.

Judge Skovald banged his gavel. "Mister Berget, please allow the objection to be completed first."

"Yes, Your Honor," I acknowledged. "My apologies."

"Your Honor, the prosecution is using this cross-examination to badger the witness," Gary argued.

"I am ensuring," Van Dusen countered, "that the information this man is telling us is factual. If I need to use harsh words to get there, then so be it."

"Objection sustained," Skovald commanded before anyone else could get a word in.

"Fine. You said that the vandalism couldn't be done randomly. That only someone who worked on the site would be able to do this."

"Or had a knowledge of the site, yes," I clarified.

"Then you won't have a problem going through each and every piece of damage with this court and describe to me how that could link back to my client and his company."

Gary winked at me before saying, "Objection, Your Honor; clearly the prosecution is attempting to retrieve expert opinion from the defendant, who is not an expert in the field of carpentry or construction."

"Your Honor," Van Dusen argued, "I am only asking for his observations of the damage. After all, it was on that basis that he accused my client."

Judge Skovald thought for a moment before saying, "Prosecutor, you raise an interesting point. I will permit this line of questioning, but please make it as brief as possible."

"Surely, Your Honor," Van Dusen said with gratitude, a shit-eating grin crossing his face. But little did he know, Gary and I had planned on this question being asked by him. This was the exact opening we needed to give Charles more time to find whatever it was he needed to find.

We had them in our trap. And we weren't about to let go.

Shying away from my past, now we move to my very real present.

Now Bobby, I'm fully aware of just what you represent to me. You represent a status quo, one that greatly benefits you and BOB. An entire roster filled with talent that want to continually coast by, while you present yourself as a looming threat to anyone and everyone in your way.

I'd get cute with that one, but having spent the better part of a year elevating not only my name, but other divisions as well, had me thinking that this status quo needed to change.

As I have declared before, this new era of XWF is one that isn't just based on talking the biggest game. Its backing up that game as well. I'm a man who very much embodies the spirit of competition; why should I expect anything less?

So when you claim that I "bullied" Barney, it all but confirmed what I needed to know.

I can respect the fight that Barney has while also telling him that he needs to bring more if he wants to survive the new era. Unlike you, I'm not afraid to tell people what they need to hear. What, were you expecting I lie for him?

Now I understand; you brought him into the fold and he is now the second member of BOB that I have bested. Or do I need to bring up BOB D and how I earned the Xtreme title in the first place?

Is all this misplaced anger due to you realizing how valuable of an asset I was when I first approached you about how I could join up, only to be turned away and slipping through your fingers? Or is this just another test to prove just how dastardly I can be?

In either case, the minute I was ushered out, my interest in joining waned. I was moving up just fine on my own; unwanted by the faces, unwanted by the heels, I decided that, if nobody wanted me, I will simply prove why it was a mistake to ignore me.

And it seems I have your full attention.

So I'll make it plain and simple.

First, Corey's gonna beat ya.

Then, I'm gonna beat ya.

It'll be a good ol' fashioned Corey and Dio beat-off.

And by the time you get it through your thick head that my fists hurt more than my words...

...I'll be standing over you, holding the Xtreme title in my hands in victory.

Corey is a part of my past.

You are my present.

And I aim to become the future.]]> <![CDATA[SL0AN3_L4ND.rp]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47462 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 23:15:56 -0700 Cypher]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47462 RP for March Madness 2024 vs Sloane Taylor.



“Is that…Taylor Swift?!”]]> RP for March Madness 2024 vs Sloane Taylor.



“Is that…Taylor Swift?!”]]> <![CDATA[No Easy Way Out]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47461 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 22:33:21 -0700 Barney Green]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47461

I'm entering my final XWF match at least for now. I know I cannot compete at the level they deserve anymore. At least going against somebody like Semtex will play to my strengths at least. This isn't gonna be for the faint of heart. I am not gonna go down without a fight at least.

I knew when I drew the Three Of Swords in my deck of cards. I got nothing left in the tank for this place. I just wanna get through my contract and honor it to the best of my ability even if it means I gotta go out this way. I don't wanna go but I know its my time to leave. Maybe I come back in a few months or I stay gone. The choice is mine at the end of the day.

I got nothing but respect for this place but I know my time has past and instead of forcing myself to get onto the plane and come here. Seeing all these tough names and I am just here like a relic. A relic of many hard fought battles. I can go out in a way I feel is right instead of just walking like I did. It wouldn't have been right to management involved and the person I am supposed to face.

I am better than that. Even if I don't feel I belong, This will always be my home. I can feel the XWF Universe chanting my name but I am not the hero you people need anymore. Its time for a new generation to take over. Leave me in the past unless somebody really catches my eye. My body aches. I am all over the place right now for the first time in years. Its a new era for the both of us.

I can't say I am completely happy but its okay. I know that I agreed to this battle and will give it everything I got like I always do. That's the one thing you can say about me. Putting me against Semtex is a good idea. Gonna be a big fight that most people don't expect and I will do my bit. It takes two to tango at the end of the day, right? Right?

Yes it does. I am falling apart and old at this point. I know I am living on borrowed time in this business. Not many people were willing to go the distance I was and for as long as I did here. The blood and carnage that lays in my past. My soul is ruined at the end of it all. I just hope Goddess Diana understands why I did what I had to do in order to survive.

All the losses I've experienced that I will never fully recover from. I got my friends outside of this business that view me as a hero of sorts. I am not a true hero. I am just the guy who was willing to do whatever it took to get noticed. Nobody would've popped a boner at me doing that flippy nonsense and it wasn't possible given my frame. Instead, They popped a boner at seeing me getting thrown through flaming tables! Light tubes cracked over my head! Basically any form of weapon being used.

I can feel the emptiness inside of me being here. I know I don't have a prayer in beating Semtex but its okay. I'll recover in a few days. I am a 40 year old man. My story may be over here for now but I got my friends here and I will still visit from time to time.

Just laying in bed after a hard fought battle and finishing up my final dip of the day as I reflect in my thoughts. Gotta do what's best for both of us. It's been a hell of a ride for me. The fat film producer from Boston who got lucky and watched all his money go down the toilet literally. Managed to turn this into my full time job and build a legacy that nobody can touch. A guy who wasn't athletic by any stretch of the word outside of what happens in the bedroom but I will leave that to your imagination. 

There is no easy way out for me because this place is like a sickness and I gotta lay the beast to rest. Whether I come back or not, Its up to me at the end of the day. But age has definitely caught up. Wrestling in death matches at my age is insanity at its finest.

Good luck, Semtex. its gonna be Unlucky...For...You...

-Barney Green]]>

I'm entering my final XWF match at least for now. I know I cannot compete at the level they deserve anymore. At least going against somebody like Semtex will play to my strengths at least. This isn't gonna be for the faint of heart. I am not gonna go down without a fight at least.

I knew when I drew the Three Of Swords in my deck of cards. I got nothing left in the tank for this place. I just wanna get through my contract and honor it to the best of my ability even if it means I gotta go out this way. I don't wanna go but I know its my time to leave. Maybe I come back in a few months or I stay gone. The choice is mine at the end of the day.

I got nothing but respect for this place but I know my time has past and instead of forcing myself to get onto the plane and come here. Seeing all these tough names and I am just here like a relic. A relic of many hard fought battles. I can go out in a way I feel is right instead of just walking like I did. It wouldn't have been right to management involved and the person I am supposed to face.

I am better than that. Even if I don't feel I belong, This will always be my home. I can feel the XWF Universe chanting my name but I am not the hero you people need anymore. Its time for a new generation to take over. Leave me in the past unless somebody really catches my eye. My body aches. I am all over the place right now for the first time in years. Its a new era for the both of us.

I can't say I am completely happy but its okay. I know that I agreed to this battle and will give it everything I got like I always do. That's the one thing you can say about me. Putting me against Semtex is a good idea. Gonna be a big fight that most people don't expect and I will do my bit. It takes two to tango at the end of the day, right? Right?

Yes it does. I am falling apart and old at this point. I know I am living on borrowed time in this business. Not many people were willing to go the distance I was and for as long as I did here. The blood and carnage that lays in my past. My soul is ruined at the end of it all. I just hope Goddess Diana understands why I did what I had to do in order to survive.

All the losses I've experienced that I will never fully recover from. I got my friends outside of this business that view me as a hero of sorts. I am not a true hero. I am just the guy who was willing to do whatever it took to get noticed. Nobody would've popped a boner at me doing that flippy nonsense and it wasn't possible given my frame. Instead, They popped a boner at seeing me getting thrown through flaming tables! Light tubes cracked over my head! Basically any form of weapon being used.

I can feel the emptiness inside of me being here. I know I don't have a prayer in beating Semtex but its okay. I'll recover in a few days. I am a 40 year old man. My story may be over here for now but I got my friends here and I will still visit from time to time.

Just laying in bed after a hard fought battle and finishing up my final dip of the day as I reflect in my thoughts. Gotta do what's best for both of us. It's been a hell of a ride for me. The fat film producer from Boston who got lucky and watched all his money go down the toilet literally. Managed to turn this into my full time job and build a legacy that nobody can touch. A guy who wasn't athletic by any stretch of the word outside of what happens in the bedroom but I will leave that to your imagination. 

There is no easy way out for me because this place is like a sickness and I gotta lay the beast to rest. Whether I come back or not, Its up to me at the end of the day. But age has definitely caught up. Wrestling in death matches at my age is insanity at its finest.

Good luck, Semtex. its gonna be Unlucky...For...You...

-Barney Green]]> <![CDATA[The Blue Dress]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47460 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 19:56:45 -0700 Corey Black]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47460
The Blue Dress]]>
The Blue Dress]]> <![CDATA[Free Fallin']]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47459 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 18:26:33 -0700 Centurion]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47459

“This…isn't what I wanted.”

We open up inside a dark warehouse. Sitting at the top of a ladder is Centurion, illuminated by a kerosene lantern hanging off the side of the top rung of the ladder. He is in a full suit, looking directly down the front of the camera.

“I have made that plainly obvious from the very beginning. See, when I lost my Anarchy Title, I was not filled with rage for you, Sean Parker. As a matter of fact, I was happy for you. I've seen the work you have put in since coming to the XWF, and it did not surprise me one bit to see you become a champion.

I was happy to just sit back and watch you lead this brand for a while. I wanted to see what you'd do with it. As a fan of Anarchy, and as a fan of wrestling in general, I was curious to see where we would be as your reign moved along. Meanwhile, I was prepared to finish some unfinished business, and finally rid this place of some toxic elements that continuously plagues this company.

Of course, Jett Sterling had other ideas.”

Centurion reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cigar. He sniffs it once before pulling out a Zippo lighter.

“Normally you would use a wood match to light these, but I figured lugging a box of matches up here would be overkill.”

Centurion opens the lighter and flicks it on before placing the cigar in his mouth and lighting it. He takes a few puffs of the cigar before closing the lighter and sliding it back into his jacket pocket.

“I'm not a stupid person, despite what my kid may tell people sometimes. Jett doesn't want to deliver Madison Dyson to me, so instead, he cooks up a scheme to get me out of the way. He books me in a number one contenders match that he knows I'm going to win, therefore making me turn my attention to Sean Parker; however, he doesn't want me to be the champion, so he books it in a ladder match, hoping I'll get beaten down and humiliated, and eventually run out of Anarchy.

Did I miss anything, Jett? Maybe you're going to surprise me with Madison Dyson popping up from under the ring and shoving my ass through a flaming barbed wire table or some shit, then sitting back and going “well golly gee, I didn't know she was there!”

Centurion shakes his head as he takes another hit of his cigar. He looks up towards the ceiling as he exhales the smoke.

“There's a flaw in your plan, though, Jett. I know you think I'm old as dirt and incapable of doing anything beyond an armbar, but I'm actually pretty good at ladder matches. I'm comfortable up here. I'm not afraid to plummet 20 feet onto the floor, because I've done it many times before and I'll likely do it many times after. But Sean Parker? Sure, he's been very impressive in the ring thus far, but when the lights are shining brightest and all of the adversity is pushing against him? Then how will he react? I don't know, Jett…and you don't, either.”

Centurion climbs down from the ladder before flicking the cigar, causing the ashes to fall onto the cement floor.

“You're a gambling man, Jett. The probably is, you're terrible at it. I can see by the way you've booked this entire thing. You were betting on me completely forgetting about the shit you and Madison pulled over the past month, hoping the allure of the gold would be enough to pull me away from my revenge tour. You were hoping the match itself would be enough to spark some sort of blood feud between Sean and I, forgetting that we're both grown ass adults that know how to navigate this business and understand when someone is trying to pull strings. And now you're gambling on the idea that there is NO WAY I can possibly win this match.

Welp, sorry to say, but you're going 0 for 3 on this one.

Because while beating up Sean Parker isn't really a motivating factor for me, seeing the look on your stupid ass face when I pull that title down from the rafters is. Walking into Anarchy with a title around my waist and a smile on my face is. Knowing that you'll have to spend every second of your day thinking of me as your champion is all the motivation I'll need to sprint up that God damn ladder.”

Centurion takes another puff of his cigar before placing it on a stand next to him.

“So don't worry, Sean. While you weren't my first priority, you won't have to worry about me coming into this match without any motivation. You're going to get me at my best and most focused, which is exactly what you wanted. So remember, when this event is all over, and you're boarding the plane with no title belt to speak of, there may be a lot of people you can blame - me, Jett, Madison, every wrestler in Anarchy - but in the end, the person you need to blame most is yourself.”

Centurion turns around and faces the ladder he was standing on earlier. He looks up at the top, then walks to the side and grabs the lantern from the top rung. He then looks at it up and down before chopping the bar that keeps the ladder unfolded. The ladder folds together and falls to the ground, causing a loud crash to echo throughout the warehouse. Centurion turns to the camera and lifts the lantern to his face, leaving it as the only thing lit up in the entire building. Centurion lifts the lantern to his face and looks to say something else, but instead, he just gives a wild grin before turning the lamp off, causing complete darkness.]]>

“This…isn't what I wanted.”

We open up inside a dark warehouse. Sitting at the top of a ladder is Centurion, illuminated by a kerosene lantern hanging off the side of the top rung of the ladder. He is in a full suit, looking directly down the front of the camera.

“I have made that plainly obvious from the very beginning. See, when I lost my Anarchy Title, I was not filled with rage for you, Sean Parker. As a matter of fact, I was happy for you. I've seen the work you have put in since coming to the XWF, and it did not surprise me one bit to see you become a champion.

I was happy to just sit back and watch you lead this brand for a while. I wanted to see what you'd do with it. As a fan of Anarchy, and as a fan of wrestling in general, I was curious to see where we would be as your reign moved along. Meanwhile, I was prepared to finish some unfinished business, and finally rid this place of some toxic elements that continuously plagues this company.

Of course, Jett Sterling had other ideas.”

Centurion reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cigar. He sniffs it once before pulling out a Zippo lighter.

“Normally you would use a wood match to light these, but I figured lugging a box of matches up here would be overkill.”

Centurion opens the lighter and flicks it on before placing the cigar in his mouth and lighting it. He takes a few puffs of the cigar before closing the lighter and sliding it back into his jacket pocket.

“I'm not a stupid person, despite what my kid may tell people sometimes. Jett doesn't want to deliver Madison Dyson to me, so instead, he cooks up a scheme to get me out of the way. He books me in a number one contenders match that he knows I'm going to win, therefore making me turn my attention to Sean Parker; however, he doesn't want me to be the champion, so he books it in a ladder match, hoping I'll get beaten down and humiliated, and eventually run out of Anarchy.

Did I miss anything, Jett? Maybe you're going to surprise me with Madison Dyson popping up from under the ring and shoving my ass through a flaming barbed wire table or some shit, then sitting back and going “well golly gee, I didn't know she was there!”

Centurion shakes his head as he takes another hit of his cigar. He looks up towards the ceiling as he exhales the smoke.

“There's a flaw in your plan, though, Jett. I know you think I'm old as dirt and incapable of doing anything beyond an armbar, but I'm actually pretty good at ladder matches. I'm comfortable up here. I'm not afraid to plummet 20 feet onto the floor, because I've done it many times before and I'll likely do it many times after. But Sean Parker? Sure, he's been very impressive in the ring thus far, but when the lights are shining brightest and all of the adversity is pushing against him? Then how will he react? I don't know, Jett…and you don't, either.”

Centurion climbs down from the ladder before flicking the cigar, causing the ashes to fall onto the cement floor.

“You're a gambling man, Jett. The probably is, you're terrible at it. I can see by the way you've booked this entire thing. You were betting on me completely forgetting about the shit you and Madison pulled over the past month, hoping the allure of the gold would be enough to pull me away from my revenge tour. You were hoping the match itself would be enough to spark some sort of blood feud between Sean and I, forgetting that we're both grown ass adults that know how to navigate this business and understand when someone is trying to pull strings. And now you're gambling on the idea that there is NO WAY I can possibly win this match.

Welp, sorry to say, but you're going 0 for 3 on this one.

Because while beating up Sean Parker isn't really a motivating factor for me, seeing the look on your stupid ass face when I pull that title down from the rafters is. Walking into Anarchy with a title around my waist and a smile on my face is. Knowing that you'll have to spend every second of your day thinking of me as your champion is all the motivation I'll need to sprint up that God damn ladder.”

Centurion takes another puff of his cigar before placing it on a stand next to him.

“So don't worry, Sean. While you weren't my first priority, you won't have to worry about me coming into this match without any motivation. You're going to get me at my best and most focused, which is exactly what you wanted. So remember, when this event is all over, and you're boarding the plane with no title belt to speak of, there may be a lot of people you can blame - me, Jett, Madison, every wrestler in Anarchy - but in the end, the person you need to blame most is yourself.”

Centurion turns around and faces the ladder he was standing on earlier. He looks up at the top, then walks to the side and grabs the lantern from the top rung. He then looks at it up and down before chopping the bar that keeps the ladder unfolded. The ladder folds together and falls to the ground, causing a loud crash to echo throughout the warehouse. Centurion turns to the camera and lifts the lantern to his face, leaving it as the only thing lit up in the entire building. Centurion lifts the lantern to his face and looks to say something else, but instead, he just gives a wild grin before turning the lamp off, causing complete darkness.]]> <![CDATA[The Darkest Day]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47458 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 17:53:05 -0700 Sebastian Everett-Bryce]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47458 *Trigger warning - there are themes of Suicide in this RP*

The SEBEmpire Presents...
The Darkest Day]]> *Trigger warning - there are themes of Suicide in this RP*

The SEBEmpire Presents...
The Darkest Day]]> <![CDATA[The Church of Fighting]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47457 Sat, 23 Mar 2024 11:34:26 -0700 SEMTEX]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47457 https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FC5t...sp=sharing]]> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FC5t...sp=sharing]]> <![CDATA[Kieran King in: THE HOUSE OF KING - The Arena of March]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47455 Fri, 22 Mar 2024 14:35:52 -0700 Kieran King]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47455 CHAPTER 3


The cast so far (not all will be in each chapter):
The 'true' King of X: Kieran
The 'current King of X: Isaiah
The Princess: Universia
The former kings: Marcus and Robert
The foreign lords: Corey and Spencer
The Governor of the Empire Company: Sebastian
The King of the Rascal Isles: Johnathan
The rebellious commoner: Mr. Parker
The priest of the rebellion: Father Green
The ancient warlock: Micheal]]> CHAPTER 3


The cast so far (not all will be in each chapter):
The 'true' King of X: Kieran
The 'current King of X: Isaiah
The Princess: Universia
The former kings: Marcus and Robert
The foreign lords: Corey and Spencer
The Governor of the Empire Company: Sebastian
The King of the Rascal Isles: Johnathan
The rebellious commoner: Mr. Parker
The priest of the rebellion: Father Green
The ancient warlock: Micheal]]> <![CDATA[The Lion will Roar]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47454 Fri, 22 Mar 2024 06:55:41 -0700 Jason Cashe]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47454 February 19th
Florida
"Victoria The Champion" <-- Click

I wasn't sure who Victoria was to be honest. I just knew that every event this company had up until now has been named like an episode of some sitcom. Though, I highly doubt this would air on any streaming services. You likely wouldn't even find this on Tubi TV.

Looking around, there were no assigned seats and even if the place had been packed, it only seemed to have enough seats for roughly 100-150 people at best. The size of the crowd didn't really matter, I liked the personal connection that they can provide but this crowd seemed.. Empty.

Empty because they found free tickets on a poster in some local gas station promoting the event. Empty because there were only 6 to 10 people on the roster and that includes Staff. This was, without question, a shit show. None of that mattered. I wasn't here to check out some independent event. Although I do that from time to time, this was not one of those times.

I came because of one man.. Raion Kido.

“So much for him wanting to be one of the very best in wrestling’s landscape..” Sloane Taylor says, quoting what Kido had said earlier in the show. I turn to see her standing to my left with a bucket of popcorn, a soda and a smile. “Watch your legs.” She adds as she passes in front of me before taking the empty seat to my right. “Want some?” Offering me some popcorn, she had said she was going to the bathroom.

“No thanks.” Resting back in the chair, I return my attention to the ring. “So, hey, what works better?” Asking my wife, I turn to her as she takes a sip from the straw in her soda. Her eyebrows were raised as she awaits my follow up. “I could wait for him outside after the show or..”

“What?! No..” Shaking her head, she didn't like that idea. No worries, I had another.

“Okay then I’m jumping the guard rail and lighting him up!”

“I came to watch wrestling not to see you get arrested.”

“He’s right there though!” Reaching out towards the ring, I was being dramatic in my attempt to grab for him from where I was sitting. “He’s just asking for me to beat up my hands with his face!!”

“And I want you not arrested so it's settled. Not today!” She said with such adorable authority, I couldn't argue. Yet as we watched Kido hit his finisher, I stood up from my chair in a hurry.

“I… Umm.. Gotta use the bathroom!” Turning to leave, my Wife stopped me.

“Ohhh no you don't, mister!” Looking back at her, she was patting the seat of my chair. “Sit next to me and watch the rest of the show.. You don't even work here!”

“I’ll go fill out an application right now!” Another bright idea that has me turning to leave.

“Okay, I’ll go with you.”

I sat back down. Arms crossed, I was very close to being pouty. With buttered lips, Sloane leans over and kisses me on the cheek. It didn't help but awww it was nice.. It might as well have been a pat on the head as she told me ‘good boy’ for listening. What made it worse is that as the match came to a finish, Kido gets attacked by a buffoon named Kendrick Kross. A few others flooded the ring as well and it became this clusterfuck of damn near everyone on the roster. All 5 of them. I missed an opportunity of attack but it wouldn't be the last.

©©©©©©©©
“Why?

Why have you been lingering in the kiddie pool of a wrestling promotion? Smith Family Wrestling.. Or is it Tenacity Wrestling? I saw Hawt Pro Wrestling as well so I’m not positive what that place is even called!

Yet there you are..

A lion that once roamed the open plains of a Universal hunting ground now lives comfortably in the confines of a petting zoo..

Why?

You want to be known, seen and called as one of the best but yet you are HIDING in the weeds of this profession.

For what reason?

You said you wanted to roar again and as I sat in that crowd, watching you talk backstage. Watching you polish your anime inspired, goddess blessed armor, I became inspired to help you find your roar again! The roaring of pain. The roaring of a shortcoming that IS coming to you in the form of a howling DiOGee!

I’m back bitch and I’m biting, what's up?

You want to play in petting zoos and be ankle deep in a pond so your meow echoes like a roar? Fine. I will help you find your way back to that. I will give you guidance back to the sorrow sack of shit life you have made for yourself in Smith Family-Tenacity-Hawt Pro Wrestling. Is it even still active? Has it died in 5 shows?

Sheeesh!

You were once THE Lion that stood at the peak of Pride Rock and we all watched you hold up the Universal Championship on multiple occasions! That was when your star was formed but now? Now we see a faded star losing the light it once had. You are but a hiccup in the timeline of the company you found success in and while I have never seen the heights in which you have achieved in XWF? I will be the outcome that tears your name out of the record books moving forward.”

©©©©©©©©

February 24th
Florida
XWF Warfare

It's been a few days since I laid eyes on Kido. I kept telling myself that I wasn't here for him. Not tonight anyway. This night wasn't even about me. I was here to support my Wife in her XWF debut. She was in the Main Event and competing for the Television Title and I might be more excited than she is!

Yet.. I had to look. All I was going to do was look! See him competing as he did days before but this time? This time he was in there with Mark Cross and it wasn't going to be the same lack of challenge he found while looking for his roar back at the Indy show..

I shouldn't have looked.

After peeking through the tunnel at one of the fan exits, seeing the ring in all of its glory. I watched Kido lose. Initially laughter filled my lungs! I found myself ROARING with a giggle but then the laugh abruptly stopped. I was moving out of the tunnel, I was beelining down the aisle way, past fans who didn't notice me. Not until I reached the guard railing.. Not until I pulled a woman out of her chair like I was carjacking in GTA and I grabbed and folded her chair before doing what I wanted to do before. The stage was set, big or small, I was going to have my opportunity of attack.

I guess my wife was right. I ended up getting arrested..

©©©©©©©©
“Why?

Why do I want to fight you, hurt you even? Why did I walk away when I did? You can say I was bitter and I was! I was in Trilogy with you and Ned Kaye. Nothing I was doing was good enough to be amongst those ranks at that time and really, I didn't ever fit the intended mold for that group.

We were supposed to be the ‘Good guys’ because CCPE was lingering around but no sooner than our group formed, we lost the inspiration to do anything with it!

You were doing your own thing. I ended up trying to find a Mascot because at the end of the day, that's what I thought about the whole ordeal. It needed a mascot because it was a joke from the jump..

None of that is why I walked away though. None of that is why I want to fight you, Kido.

See, you were THE guy! You were the new Star rising like you brought light to the horizon and you played that part perfectly for a time.. Yet no matter how much success you found, we, inside of the group, heard the whining..

The concern about your spot.

About your own success. It was never about us as a whole because you were always making it about you and we became therapists for your insecurities..

At one point you could have been as big of a star as you wanted to be. You have all the tools, you have the skill inside the ring and you have the face to be on ALL the posters.

Yet I can still hear the complaining..

Ask Theo, ask Ned how many times we had to cater to a whining bitch who just happened to be the Universal Champion! Whining about not being good enough to be untouchable.. It was fucking annoying.

You complained like it was YOU who hadn't touched a PPV victory in almost a year. Like it was YOU who came up short on Anarchy.. You whined like it was YOU who had bouts with misfortune or missteps.

YOU were supposed to lead that group. YOU were supposed to set the example and instead, I did. It's why when I left, the group died. When I stepped away, every plan for it was ended. I wasn't the one pulling the strings though so why is that? If you were good enough then why couldn't YOU have kept the group together instead of feeling wronged that I walked out on you? I know why.

Woe is You

You are a headache of self doubt. I held your hand the night you beat Alias.. Go back and watch, I was there with you. Talking to you through your own self insecurities like I had every piece of advice you needed. You were the successful one and yet I was giving you advice?

Trilogy should have been built differently and because it wasn't, it should have died. Instead of cutting our losses, Theo had a plan. I trust Theo not because he likes me but because he is harder on those he likes and that's honest. He wanted to expand.. Evolve the seed of Trilogy into something more because maybe then it would blossom.

Trilogy became The Saga.

The name change or additions to the group didn't do anything but add noise and make the core problems quieter for a short time. We essentially built on top of a gravesite but none of us wanted to accept the burial that we were already in the process of being a part of.

My biggest problem with my first run in this company is that I gave up too easily. When shit started falling apart early on, I gave up wanting to build anything or invest in much at all. I should have fought to remove what made the group weak. You. Yet, I was lingering, I was coasting along like you said you were doing back on that Smith Family Wrestling show.

So now, you find yourself with two people who left this company for different reasons. I went and applied myself in other places of worth. You found a pond and started fishing for bait. I always knew and made the claim that I would be back.. That I belonged here and the moment I saw you come out during the Last Blood Battle Royal? I knew I had to have my chance at beating you. Not just beat you, I aim to break you..”

©©©©©©©©
Current Day
Chicago
Sloane's Apartment

I stared blankly down at my phone. There it was.. A new contract from XWF. I wasn't expecting a top dollar amount or any special deal. It was a standard contract in simple terms because Theo thought it would be funny to dumb it down for me.

Great guy.

“Did you sign it yet?” Sloane asks as she glides across the living room of her apartment and plops down next to me. Peeking over, she looks at the contract on my phone. “Nope. What are you waiting for?!” Nudging against me, she wore a smile. She knew I was waiting for this. She knew it was what I wanted. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Saying as I used the tip of my finger to sign my first name on the contract. “Oooww! What the fuck?!” I snap towards her to find her biting me on my shoulder.

“Something is wrong and I’m just going to keep biting you until you tell me..” Her mouth wide, she goes to bite me again.

“Fine! I swear..” Letting my phone drop onto my lap. I was going to try and do this ‘talking’ thing with my wife. Wish me luck.. “I don't know if I can do this.” Probably could have said that better.

“Whaaa?!” She pushed back, having a trace of both shock and anger in her expression.

“No..” I let a grin form. “Not that!”

“Then what?” She lays back against the far side of the couch, her feet pick up and find their way onto my lap. “Tell me.”

“Last time I signed a contract with XWF.. I feel there were expectations that I didn't ever come close to fulfilling. I was trying to be someone I’m not. Surrounded by good people, honest people.. People I would rob if under different circumstances.”

Sloane giggles. It made me think that maybe that's the persona that everyone has come to know from me. A petty prankster who takes nothing seriously. To others a Pothead but never have you ever seen me wearing or promoting the sticky green. I just smoke the shit.

“Jason?” She catches me zoning off in thought.

“Yeah?” I shake away the spaced out thoughts.

“You are your own worst critic and you bury it to keep people from noticing. I notice and do you know what I think?”

“We're Married.. I don't think I have a choice in hearing what you think.. Do I?”

Tossing her feet off the couch, Sloane sits up and shoves into me before falling against me and wrapping her arms around my neck from the side.

“I think you are an annoying jerkface but people know that regardless of how you act on social media.” Pinching me, she added. “But that's part of your charm!”

“I am quite charming, aren't I?” She bit me again. “That's it!” I dove at her with teeth exposed and mouth open as she squeals and shoves at me.

©©©©©©©©
Later That Night
Chicago
Sloane's Apartment

The night had started to creep into the early morning hours. I could feel my right eye closing as I tried not to make any noise opening the bedroom door. Glancing over my shoulder, Sloane was ASLEEP!

The blanket covered her except for her left leg that hung out over where I had been laying. I wasn't up to anything, I just didn't want to wake her. Making eye contact with Quill as I came into the living room, I found myself surprised I was able to tell the two Hedgehogs apart. Quickly, I turn on my phone and hold it in front of me to read a text. It says “I’m outside” so that's where I was heading.

Getting the door unlocked, I open it to find my protege, Elm standing on the porch. “Come in but be quiet..” Stepping aside, I let him inside. Rubbing his hands together, he was cold as he entered. Giving the place a look over, he turns back to me as I shut the door. “Did you get it?” I asked.

“Yup!” He responds with a smile but he doesn't add anything after that. He just stands there smiling.

“Man, it's 3 AM.. Give me what you got.” Rolling a hand in a circle to hurry him up. Digging his left hand into the left pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a piece of paper.

“Here ya go!”

I took the note that was no bigger than a rolling paper. Unfolding it, I knew what to expect. It was an address. “You sure this is legit?” Looking up from the address in Montana, I see Elm pondering the legitimacy of it.

“Oh it's as legit as can be!” Giving his hands a clap, he steps in closer to me. “I met a nice lady at the Post Office..”

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. I took her out, and she paid for dinner.”

Nodding, that was about right. Elm is a broke homeless kid and preferred it that way. I wasn't sure he had a legit ID that wasn't falsified. “And she gave you this?”

“Yoooou know how I do! She had some needs and I took care of them thoroughly!”

Elm had a thing for the big girls. He had his ways and that's all that needed to be said.

“Okay, after Warfare this Saturday, we will head that way.”

“Sounds good to me.. Umm..” He gives himself pause. “So when are you going to get me signed on with XWF?”

“I haven't even officially signed yet.”

“Your boy hasn't sent you a contract yet?” He looked surprised. “You told him you parted ways with TPW, yeah?”

“He knows.. The contract is in my email. I just need to sign it.”

“Well…”

Waving him off, I moved to the table in the dining area. I had a few pre rolls and grabbed one before heading to the front door. Elm didn't smoke but he was being loud.

“Outside.”

“Oh my bad..” He knew he was loud but home life was something he had much experience with.

On the porch, I shut the door and it was cold. My dumbass is in some shorts, a t-shirt and house slippers, no socks. I sparked up but upon exhaling, you couldn't tell what was smoke and what was just hot breath mixing with the cold air.

“Have you been taking local gigs?” Asking Elm as he blows into his cupped hands. I knew he had taken a few, I’ve gone and watched a few even. Kid had something. “Working matches?”

“Yeah, yeah, a few. I have a booking in Minnesota down the road from where Warfare is being held. Earlier Saturday.”

“Yeah?” It was good he was keeping busy. I needed to work with him more but he had a good foundation.

“That's what I’m saying! Get me in with Anarchy or the next reboot of Madness even, I just want to get in the door!”

“You were in the door with TPW..” I reminded him.

“Come on!” Laughing. His role in TPW wasn't exactly ideal. “You had me working with a ‘King’ named King who could make more money as an Elvis impersonator!”

“That's work!” Trying not to laugh, it was a shit gig. That was the point. Giving him these bad experiences were learning curves that too many people don't get until later in their
career. “I’ll talk to Theo about it, alright?” Before we could get deeper into the conversation or his argument on why he should get a shot in XWF. I glance to the road and see a car sitting idle in the middle of the road, a bit down the street. “You see that? Is that your ride?”

Looking and taking a moment to determine, Elm answers. “Nope. I grabbed a cab. Not sure who that is..”

“Fuck.” I mutter as I pull the cone down from my lips. Looking down at the steps, I didn't want to have a misstep but I took a step down and jogged to the pathway leading to the street. “What's good?” Throwing my hands up at both sides, I let my voice raise in the direction of the car.

As Elm comes up behind me, the car moves forward. There wasn't a peel out, it was very calmly moving forward. To be honest? Part of me felt like this could turn into a drive by.. I threw my arm back as if to shield Elm but he wasn't a child. He could buy alcohol at the very least. The concern for danger was an overreaction as the vehicle, a blacked out Lincoln, just cruises by.

I didn't like that. I didn't like that it was too close to where my Wife was sleeping. Flicking more than half of my pre roll, I was irritated and that was the sign. I done wasted some weed..

“Get inside, you’re on the couch tonight.”

“Oohhh that doesn't really work for me?” He said it like a question but he wasn't really asking one. It didn't matter, I turned him around and shoved him towards the stairs. “I have a nice spot already picked out!”

“Yeah, the couch is comfortable.”

His sigh showed in the way he walked. Head and shoulders slumped down, he wasn't going to argue. Getting to the door, I opened it and stepped aside to let him go inside first. My eyes scan down the road at both ends.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up, you know..”

“Just be quiet. I don't want Sloane knowing about the car, got it?”

He motions that he understands with a zip of his lips. “She literally won't know I was here.” As we get inside, I lock the door and turn to see Elm leaping and landing long ways on the couch. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and reach to pull it free. I had a text message.

“... See you soon, Jason.”

Yeah. You sure will, I thought to myself. Tapping over into my email, I bring up the contract from XWF. I got to the part where I had signed my first name earlier. I added my last. I attached it and sent it back.

“Can I raid the fridge?” Elm asks and I almost forgot he was there.

“Clean up after yourself.. I’m going back to bed.”

Getting to the bedroom door. What if I hadn't been awake? What if I hadn't been outside to see the car? I couldn't be sure but my ‘Fan’ told me his infatuation started in XWF. I was moving in the right direction and it just so happened to align with where I wanted to be.

©©©©©©©©
“Kido. Are you really here? I don't just want to be here, I need to be. I have gone and tried to find a home in other places. I have done my time in UGWC and found that their biggest stars are often the ones needing the most security in their safe spaces. I found that censoring myself in TPW was fun for a while but give me my space to say FUCK when I need too!

XWF is cutthroat where other companies fail to be. They have a history and while every new company has their time to shine, that time often fades while consistency remains here! Nobody is as publicly seen, felt, or heard like XWF..

I’m not kissing ass. Just stating facts.

Kissing ass gets you nowhere on this roster but kissing ass seems to be one of your bigger talents. You have so much ‘respect’ for people that it has always felt to me like you have something to hide..

This match is overdue.

This is where you have had your biggest success. This is also where I have seen my lowest of lows. So what I need and want from you is simply for you to show up.. Show up so I can lay you the fuck down.”]]> February 19th
Florida
"Victoria The Champion" <-- Click

I wasn't sure who Victoria was to be honest. I just knew that every event this company had up until now has been named like an episode of some sitcom. Though, I highly doubt this would air on any streaming services. You likely wouldn't even find this on Tubi TV.

Looking around, there were no assigned seats and even if the place had been packed, it only seemed to have enough seats for roughly 100-150 people at best. The size of the crowd didn't really matter, I liked the personal connection that they can provide but this crowd seemed.. Empty.

Empty because they found free tickets on a poster in some local gas station promoting the event. Empty because there were only 6 to 10 people on the roster and that includes Staff. This was, without question, a shit show. None of that mattered. I wasn't here to check out some independent event. Although I do that from time to time, this was not one of those times.

I came because of one man.. Raion Kido.

“So much for him wanting to be one of the very best in wrestling’s landscape..” Sloane Taylor says, quoting what Kido had said earlier in the show. I turn to see her standing to my left with a bucket of popcorn, a soda and a smile. “Watch your legs.” She adds as she passes in front of me before taking the empty seat to my right. “Want some?” Offering me some popcorn, she had said she was going to the bathroom.

“No thanks.” Resting back in the chair, I return my attention to the ring. “So, hey, what works better?” Asking my wife, I turn to her as she takes a sip from the straw in her soda. Her eyebrows were raised as she awaits my follow up. “I could wait for him outside after the show or..”

“What?! No..” Shaking her head, she didn't like that idea. No worries, I had another.

“Okay then I’m jumping the guard rail and lighting him up!”

“I came to watch wrestling not to see you get arrested.”

“He’s right there though!” Reaching out towards the ring, I was being dramatic in my attempt to grab for him from where I was sitting. “He’s just asking for me to beat up my hands with his face!!”

“And I want you not arrested so it's settled. Not today!” She said with such adorable authority, I couldn't argue. Yet as we watched Kido hit his finisher, I stood up from my chair in a hurry.

“I… Umm.. Gotta use the bathroom!” Turning to leave, my Wife stopped me.

“Ohhh no you don't, mister!” Looking back at her, she was patting the seat of my chair. “Sit next to me and watch the rest of the show.. You don't even work here!”

“I’ll go fill out an application right now!” Another bright idea that has me turning to leave.

“Okay, I’ll go with you.”

I sat back down. Arms crossed, I was very close to being pouty. With buttered lips, Sloane leans over and kisses me on the cheek. It didn't help but awww it was nice.. It might as well have been a pat on the head as she told me ‘good boy’ for listening. What made it worse is that as the match came to a finish, Kido gets attacked by a buffoon named Kendrick Kross. A few others flooded the ring as well and it became this clusterfuck of damn near everyone on the roster. All 5 of them. I missed an opportunity of attack but it wouldn't be the last.

©©©©©©©©
“Why?

Why have you been lingering in the kiddie pool of a wrestling promotion? Smith Family Wrestling.. Or is it Tenacity Wrestling? I saw Hawt Pro Wrestling as well so I’m not positive what that place is even called!

Yet there you are..

A lion that once roamed the open plains of a Universal hunting ground now lives comfortably in the confines of a petting zoo..

Why?

You want to be known, seen and called as one of the best but yet you are HIDING in the weeds of this profession.

For what reason?

You said you wanted to roar again and as I sat in that crowd, watching you talk backstage. Watching you polish your anime inspired, goddess blessed armor, I became inspired to help you find your roar again! The roaring of pain. The roaring of a shortcoming that IS coming to you in the form of a howling DiOGee!

I’m back bitch and I’m biting, what's up?

You want to play in petting zoos and be ankle deep in a pond so your meow echoes like a roar? Fine. I will help you find your way back to that. I will give you guidance back to the sorrow sack of shit life you have made for yourself in Smith Family-Tenacity-Hawt Pro Wrestling. Is it even still active? Has it died in 5 shows?

Sheeesh!

You were once THE Lion that stood at the peak of Pride Rock and we all watched you hold up the Universal Championship on multiple occasions! That was when your star was formed but now? Now we see a faded star losing the light it once had. You are but a hiccup in the timeline of the company you found success in and while I have never seen the heights in which you have achieved in XWF? I will be the outcome that tears your name out of the record books moving forward.”

©©©©©©©©

February 24th
Florida
XWF Warfare

It's been a few days since I laid eyes on Kido. I kept telling myself that I wasn't here for him. Not tonight anyway. This night wasn't even about me. I was here to support my Wife in her XWF debut. She was in the Main Event and competing for the Television Title and I might be more excited than she is!

Yet.. I had to look. All I was going to do was look! See him competing as he did days before but this time? This time he was in there with Mark Cross and it wasn't going to be the same lack of challenge he found while looking for his roar back at the Indy show..

I shouldn't have looked.

After peeking through the tunnel at one of the fan exits, seeing the ring in all of its glory. I watched Kido lose. Initially laughter filled my lungs! I found myself ROARING with a giggle but then the laugh abruptly stopped. I was moving out of the tunnel, I was beelining down the aisle way, past fans who didn't notice me. Not until I reached the guard railing.. Not until I pulled a woman out of her chair like I was carjacking in GTA and I grabbed and folded her chair before doing what I wanted to do before. The stage was set, big or small, I was going to have my opportunity of attack.

I guess my wife was right. I ended up getting arrested..

©©©©©©©©
“Why?

Why do I want to fight you, hurt you even? Why did I walk away when I did? You can say I was bitter and I was! I was in Trilogy with you and Ned Kaye. Nothing I was doing was good enough to be amongst those ranks at that time and really, I didn't ever fit the intended mold for that group.

We were supposed to be the ‘Good guys’ because CCPE was lingering around but no sooner than our group formed, we lost the inspiration to do anything with it!

You were doing your own thing. I ended up trying to find a Mascot because at the end of the day, that's what I thought about the whole ordeal. It needed a mascot because it was a joke from the jump..

None of that is why I walked away though. None of that is why I want to fight you, Kido.

See, you were THE guy! You were the new Star rising like you brought light to the horizon and you played that part perfectly for a time.. Yet no matter how much success you found, we, inside of the group, heard the whining..

The concern about your spot.

About your own success. It was never about us as a whole because you were always making it about you and we became therapists for your insecurities..

At one point you could have been as big of a star as you wanted to be. You have all the tools, you have the skill inside the ring and you have the face to be on ALL the posters.

Yet I can still hear the complaining..

Ask Theo, ask Ned how many times we had to cater to a whining bitch who just happened to be the Universal Champion! Whining about not being good enough to be untouchable.. It was fucking annoying.

You complained like it was YOU who hadn't touched a PPV victory in almost a year. Like it was YOU who came up short on Anarchy.. You whined like it was YOU who had bouts with misfortune or missteps.

YOU were supposed to lead that group. YOU were supposed to set the example and instead, I did. It's why when I left, the group died. When I stepped away, every plan for it was ended. I wasn't the one pulling the strings though so why is that? If you were good enough then why couldn't YOU have kept the group together instead of feeling wronged that I walked out on you? I know why.

Woe is You

You are a headache of self doubt. I held your hand the night you beat Alias.. Go back and watch, I was there with you. Talking to you through your own self insecurities like I had every piece of advice you needed. You were the successful one and yet I was giving you advice?

Trilogy should have been built differently and because it wasn't, it should have died. Instead of cutting our losses, Theo had a plan. I trust Theo not because he likes me but because he is harder on those he likes and that's honest. He wanted to expand.. Evolve the seed of Trilogy into something more because maybe then it would blossom.

Trilogy became The Saga.

The name change or additions to the group didn't do anything but add noise and make the core problems quieter for a short time. We essentially built on top of a gravesite but none of us wanted to accept the burial that we were already in the process of being a part of.

My biggest problem with my first run in this company is that I gave up too easily. When shit started falling apart early on, I gave up wanting to build anything or invest in much at all. I should have fought to remove what made the group weak. You. Yet, I was lingering, I was coasting along like you said you were doing back on that Smith Family Wrestling show.

So now, you find yourself with two people who left this company for different reasons. I went and applied myself in other places of worth. You found a pond and started fishing for bait. I always knew and made the claim that I would be back.. That I belonged here and the moment I saw you come out during the Last Blood Battle Royal? I knew I had to have my chance at beating you. Not just beat you, I aim to break you..”

©©©©©©©©
Current Day
Chicago
Sloane's Apartment

I stared blankly down at my phone. There it was.. A new contract from XWF. I wasn't expecting a top dollar amount or any special deal. It was a standard contract in simple terms because Theo thought it would be funny to dumb it down for me.

Great guy.

“Did you sign it yet?” Sloane asks as she glides across the living room of her apartment and plops down next to me. Peeking over, she looks at the contract on my phone. “Nope. What are you waiting for?!” Nudging against me, she wore a smile. She knew I was waiting for this. She knew it was what I wanted. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Saying as I used the tip of my finger to sign my first name on the contract. “Oooww! What the fuck?!” I snap towards her to find her biting me on my shoulder.

“Something is wrong and I’m just going to keep biting you until you tell me..” Her mouth wide, she goes to bite me again.

“Fine! I swear..” Letting my phone drop onto my lap. I was going to try and do this ‘talking’ thing with my wife. Wish me luck.. “I don't know if I can do this.” Probably could have said that better.

“Whaaa?!” She pushed back, having a trace of both shock and anger in her expression.

“No..” I let a grin form. “Not that!”

“Then what?” She lays back against the far side of the couch, her feet pick up and find their way onto my lap. “Tell me.”

“Last time I signed a contract with XWF.. I feel there were expectations that I didn't ever come close to fulfilling. I was trying to be someone I’m not. Surrounded by good people, honest people.. People I would rob if under different circumstances.”

Sloane giggles. It made me think that maybe that's the persona that everyone has come to know from me. A petty prankster who takes nothing seriously. To others a Pothead but never have you ever seen me wearing or promoting the sticky green. I just smoke the shit.

“Jason?” She catches me zoning off in thought.

“Yeah?” I shake away the spaced out thoughts.

“You are your own worst critic and you bury it to keep people from noticing. I notice and do you know what I think?”

“We're Married.. I don't think I have a choice in hearing what you think.. Do I?”

Tossing her feet off the couch, Sloane sits up and shoves into me before falling against me and wrapping her arms around my neck from the side.

“I think you are an annoying jerkface but people know that regardless of how you act on social media.” Pinching me, she added. “But that's part of your charm!”

“I am quite charming, aren't I?” She bit me again. “That's it!” I dove at her with teeth exposed and mouth open as she squeals and shoves at me.

©©©©©©©©
Later That Night
Chicago
Sloane's Apartment

The night had started to creep into the early morning hours. I could feel my right eye closing as I tried not to make any noise opening the bedroom door. Glancing over my shoulder, Sloane was ASLEEP!

The blanket covered her except for her left leg that hung out over where I had been laying. I wasn't up to anything, I just didn't want to wake her. Making eye contact with Quill as I came into the living room, I found myself surprised I was able to tell the two Hedgehogs apart. Quickly, I turn on my phone and hold it in front of me to read a text. It says “I’m outside” so that's where I was heading.

Getting the door unlocked, I open it to find my protege, Elm standing on the porch. “Come in but be quiet..” Stepping aside, I let him inside. Rubbing his hands together, he was cold as he entered. Giving the place a look over, he turns back to me as I shut the door. “Did you get it?” I asked.

“Yup!” He responds with a smile but he doesn't add anything after that. He just stands there smiling.

“Man, it's 3 AM.. Give me what you got.” Rolling a hand in a circle to hurry him up. Digging his left hand into the left pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a piece of paper.

“Here ya go!”

I took the note that was no bigger than a rolling paper. Unfolding it, I knew what to expect. It was an address. “You sure this is legit?” Looking up from the address in Montana, I see Elm pondering the legitimacy of it.

“Oh it's as legit as can be!” Giving his hands a clap, he steps in closer to me. “I met a nice lady at the Post Office..”

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. I took her out, and she paid for dinner.”

Nodding, that was about right. Elm is a broke homeless kid and preferred it that way. I wasn't sure he had a legit ID that wasn't falsified. “And she gave you this?”

“Yoooou know how I do! She had some needs and I took care of them thoroughly!”

Elm had a thing for the big girls. He had his ways and that's all that needed to be said.

“Okay, after Warfare this Saturday, we will head that way.”

“Sounds good to me.. Umm..” He gives himself pause. “So when are you going to get me signed on with XWF?”

“I haven't even officially signed yet.”

“Your boy hasn't sent you a contract yet?” He looked surprised. “You told him you parted ways with TPW, yeah?”

“He knows.. The contract is in my email. I just need to sign it.”

“Well…”

Waving him off, I moved to the table in the dining area. I had a few pre rolls and grabbed one before heading to the front door. Elm didn't smoke but he was being loud.

“Outside.”

“Oh my bad..” He knew he was loud but home life was something he had much experience with.

On the porch, I shut the door and it was cold. My dumbass is in some shorts, a t-shirt and house slippers, no socks. I sparked up but upon exhaling, you couldn't tell what was smoke and what was just hot breath mixing with the cold air.

“Have you been taking local gigs?” Asking Elm as he blows into his cupped hands. I knew he had taken a few, I’ve gone and watched a few even. Kid had something. “Working matches?”

“Yeah, yeah, a few. I have a booking in Minnesota down the road from where Warfare is being held. Earlier Saturday.”

“Yeah?” It was good he was keeping busy. I needed to work with him more but he had a good foundation.

“That's what I’m saying! Get me in with Anarchy or the next reboot of Madness even, I just want to get in the door!”

“You were in the door with TPW..” I reminded him.

“Come on!” Laughing. His role in TPW wasn't exactly ideal. “You had me working with a ‘King’ named King who could make more money as an Elvis impersonator!”

“That's work!” Trying not to laugh, it was a shit gig. That was the point. Giving him these bad experiences were learning curves that too many people don't get until later in their
career. “I’ll talk to Theo about it, alright?” Before we could get deeper into the conversation or his argument on why he should get a shot in XWF. I glance to the road and see a car sitting idle in the middle of the road, a bit down the street. “You see that? Is that your ride?”

Looking and taking a moment to determine, Elm answers. “Nope. I grabbed a cab. Not sure who that is..”

“Fuck.” I mutter as I pull the cone down from my lips. Looking down at the steps, I didn't want to have a misstep but I took a step down and jogged to the pathway leading to the street. “What's good?” Throwing my hands up at both sides, I let my voice raise in the direction of the car.

As Elm comes up behind me, the car moves forward. There wasn't a peel out, it was very calmly moving forward. To be honest? Part of me felt like this could turn into a drive by.. I threw my arm back as if to shield Elm but he wasn't a child. He could buy alcohol at the very least. The concern for danger was an overreaction as the vehicle, a blacked out Lincoln, just cruises by.

I didn't like that. I didn't like that it was too close to where my Wife was sleeping. Flicking more than half of my pre roll, I was irritated and that was the sign. I done wasted some weed..

“Get inside, you’re on the couch tonight.”

“Oohhh that doesn't really work for me?” He said it like a question but he wasn't really asking one. It didn't matter, I turned him around and shoved him towards the stairs. “I have a nice spot already picked out!”

“Yeah, the couch is comfortable.”

His sigh showed in the way he walked. Head and shoulders slumped down, he wasn't going to argue. Getting to the door, I opened it and stepped aside to let him go inside first. My eyes scan down the road at both ends.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up, you know..”

“Just be quiet. I don't want Sloane knowing about the car, got it?”

He motions that he understands with a zip of his lips. “She literally won't know I was here.” As we get inside, I lock the door and turn to see Elm leaping and landing long ways on the couch. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and reach to pull it free. I had a text message.

“... See you soon, Jason.”

Yeah. You sure will, I thought to myself. Tapping over into my email, I bring up the contract from XWF. I got to the part where I had signed my first name earlier. I added my last. I attached it and sent it back.

“Can I raid the fridge?” Elm asks and I almost forgot he was there.

“Clean up after yourself.. I’m going back to bed.”

Getting to the bedroom door. What if I hadn't been awake? What if I hadn't been outside to see the car? I couldn't be sure but my ‘Fan’ told me his infatuation started in XWF. I was moving in the right direction and it just so happened to align with where I wanted to be.

©©©©©©©©
“Kido. Are you really here? I don't just want to be here, I need to be. I have gone and tried to find a home in other places. I have done my time in UGWC and found that their biggest stars are often the ones needing the most security in their safe spaces. I found that censoring myself in TPW was fun for a while but give me my space to say FUCK when I need too!

XWF is cutthroat where other companies fail to be. They have a history and while every new company has their time to shine, that time often fades while consistency remains here! Nobody is as publicly seen, felt, or heard like XWF..

I’m not kissing ass. Just stating facts.

Kissing ass gets you nowhere on this roster but kissing ass seems to be one of your bigger talents. You have so much ‘respect’ for people that it has always felt to me like you have something to hide..

This match is overdue.

This is where you have had your biggest success. This is also where I have seen my lowest of lows. So what I need and want from you is simply for you to show up.. Show up so I can lay you the fuck down.”]]> <![CDATA[No Revolution... No Mercy!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47451 Wed, 20 Mar 2024 21:04:54 -0700 John_Black]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47451

[Opens to a black and white style scene where we see JB by T’s side from last Anarchy. The audio was silent, but we see T giving him a burlap sack. JB opens the sack and looks into it, and he looks at what is inside it, here was transcribed.]

“Do it JB… put on the mask… do it for me, and Reggie.”

“I don’t know if I should man… I don't know if I can go back there…”

“You need it… you need to unleash your dark side again… think about what they did to me. Think about what happened to you… forget about being a good guy for once…. Embrace your dark side again.”

JB pulls out the rustic metal mask and he holds on to it. He was hesitant to put it on, but T insisted on JB to put it on.

“Think about it JB… you need to take things far… you need to show Cadryn and Oz what it means to be a degenerate thug… even if you don’t win the Revolution belt… you done the right thing.”

[After some time, JB put on the mask, and T was smiling at him. JB then see’s the mirror to see his old mask and he looked at T who he gave a fist bump towards as the scene fades away from behind the Anarchy.]


[Now we see cuts of JB in the mask doing day to day activities, and even managing to do some minor shopping at the local supermarket with nobody knowing who he is. After some time passed, he was walking down a street with his headphones on, and he decided to find an alleyway to record his thoughts on his android cell phone.]

[Image: tmp-name-3-896-1670395460-38_wide.jpg]


“I honestly don’t even feel different with the mask on my face again, it feels like I am hiding not only my face, but my true intentions in that ring. Ever since I saw T got hurt, and he told me to wear it once again, I had to take his word on it. I had to take on his word for my own sake, because I am at a point where I need to change myself.

Change myself for the worst, because I need to be able  to not be liable for when I take things to far in that ring during the Match Madness card. I know being the replacement is odd, but at the same time, they trust me being involved with two guys who think they are better than what Anarchy has to offer.

I am only doing this match and going after the belt for T and wanting retribution against Oz and I just don’t seeing Cadryn’s face. Do I have ill will against Cadryn? Well I don’t but I do know that him coming back on the scene is bad for business. I know he would rather be posting memes on his personal page saying he’s better than everyone else, then being in the ring. I’ve had some encounters with him, at some point in XWF and this will be the first time I will encounter him since he made his return.

All I can say is that Cadryn better be aware that I anit the same man years ago, I am more vicious and hungrier for being men like him, I anit afraid to take things far with that pretty face of his.

Now to fucking Oz, that man who once was relevant for meathooks and C.Diffing his competitors in his past life. Now, here he is who thinks he’s smart enough to take me out of this shit, now you are on my shit list man. I never fucked with you when you turned on me when your associate tried to blindside me, and now you tried to take T out of the equation.

You are going to understand that we thugs don’t die, we fucking mutliply in our bloodlust. Your blood is what I want on my mask, alongside Cadryn as well. I am not a human anymore, I am just a killing machine who needs to get the job done for my own benefit.

Jett wants a revolution, he wants a change for his brand… he might see Oz and Cadryn bring the revolution, the change that the brand needs. That’s fine by me, because like Gil Scott Heron once said…

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised…

So you know what that means?... you might be able to televise Cadryn or Oz, but not me… I am a man in my own stance within the Anarchy brand.

Like what T told me, it doesn't matter if I don’t win the belt… I just have to make an effort to change where my priority is in my time in XWF. I will make sure that I will harm Oz and Cadryn on where they stand this coming Sunday.

I will come in, and burn the revolution down to the ground where it belongs as I scorch them two in the flames.”

[From there it cuts back to Anarchy post show where we see T looking on as JB looks at himself in the old rustic metal mask, and he punches a mirror in pieces where it faded into blood red.]]]>

[Opens to a black and white style scene where we see JB by T’s side from last Anarchy. The audio was silent, but we see T giving him a burlap sack. JB opens the sack and looks into it, and he looks at what is inside it, here was transcribed.]

“Do it JB… put on the mask… do it for me, and Reggie.”

“I don’t know if I should man… I don't know if I can go back there…”

“You need it… you need to unleash your dark side again… think about what they did to me. Think about what happened to you… forget about being a good guy for once…. Embrace your dark side again.”

JB pulls out the rustic metal mask and he holds on to it. He was hesitant to put it on, but T insisted on JB to put it on.

“Think about it JB… you need to take things far… you need to show Cadryn and Oz what it means to be a degenerate thug… even if you don’t win the Revolution belt… you done the right thing.”

[After some time, JB put on the mask, and T was smiling at him. JB then see’s the mirror to see his old mask and he looked at T who he gave a fist bump towards as the scene fades away from behind the Anarchy.]


[Now we see cuts of JB in the mask doing day to day activities, and even managing to do some minor shopping at the local supermarket with nobody knowing who he is. After some time passed, he was walking down a street with his headphones on, and he decided to find an alleyway to record his thoughts on his android cell phone.]

[Image: tmp-name-3-896-1670395460-38_wide.jpg]


“I honestly don’t even feel different with the mask on my face again, it feels like I am hiding not only my face, but my true intentions in that ring. Ever since I saw T got hurt, and he told me to wear it once again, I had to take his word on it. I had to take on his word for my own sake, because I am at a point where I need to change myself.

Change myself for the worst, because I need to be able  to not be liable for when I take things to far in that ring during the Match Madness card. I know being the replacement is odd, but at the same time, they trust me being involved with two guys who think they are better than what Anarchy has to offer.

I am only doing this match and going after the belt for T and wanting retribution against Oz and I just don’t seeing Cadryn’s face. Do I have ill will against Cadryn? Well I don’t but I do know that him coming back on the scene is bad for business. I know he would rather be posting memes on his personal page saying he’s better than everyone else, then being in the ring. I’ve had some encounters with him, at some point in XWF and this will be the first time I will encounter him since he made his return.

All I can say is that Cadryn better be aware that I anit the same man years ago, I am more vicious and hungrier for being men like him, I anit afraid to take things far with that pretty face of his.

Now to fucking Oz, that man who once was relevant for meathooks and C.Diffing his competitors in his past life. Now, here he is who thinks he’s smart enough to take me out of this shit, now you are on my shit list man. I never fucked with you when you turned on me when your associate tried to blindside me, and now you tried to take T out of the equation.

You are going to understand that we thugs don’t die, we fucking mutliply in our bloodlust. Your blood is what I want on my mask, alongside Cadryn as well. I am not a human anymore, I am just a killing machine who needs to get the job done for my own benefit.

Jett wants a revolution, he wants a change for his brand… he might see Oz and Cadryn bring the revolution, the change that the brand needs. That’s fine by me, because like Gil Scott Heron once said…

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised…

So you know what that means?... you might be able to televise Cadryn or Oz, but not me… I am a man in my own stance within the Anarchy brand.

Like what T told me, it doesn't matter if I don’t win the belt… I just have to make an effort to change where my priority is in my time in XWF. I will make sure that I will harm Oz and Cadryn on where they stand this coming Sunday.

I will come in, and burn the revolution down to the ground where it belongs as I scorch them two in the flames.”

[From there it cuts back to Anarchy post show where we see T looking on as JB looks at himself in the old rustic metal mask, and he punches a mirror in pieces where it faded into blood red.]]]> <![CDATA[The Ladder of Success]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47450 Mon, 18 Mar 2024 10:13:14 -0700 Sean Parker]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=47450 Make the Climb!
]]> Make the Climb!
]]>