<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - War Games 2024 RP Board]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Thu, 07 May 2026 19:46:58 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Tale of Four Kings IV: The Four Horsemen]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48223 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 23:57:51 -0800 Isaiah King]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48223 "We are the destroyer of worlds."
]]> "We are the destroyer of worlds."
]]> <![CDATA[Micheal Graves in "Mark Flynn"]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48222 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 20:33:34 -0800 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48222
Irwin scratches his head.

”So.”

…

He scratches his head again.

…

”Okay, let me see if I have this right.”

”You’re wrestling ‘Micheal Graves’.”

”Correct.”

”For the Anarchy Title.”

”You’ve got it.”

”...But also, YOU’RE Micheal Graves.”

…Flynn bobs his head up-and-down.

”For the sake of argument, let’s say, it’s possible that I’m Micheal Graves.”

”...Who will be wrestling Mark Flynn.”

”Yessir.”

”For the Anarchy Title.”

…

Irwin nods, smiling, like okay, I’ve got it.

…

Before it contorts back into a frown.

”...Okay.”

…

”So… what’s the plan?”

”Wel-”

”That’s easy!”

The two turn to the room’s corner, where Miss Furry, (Student of Gravy), is in the storage unit’s makeshift kitchen, brewing herself a pot of tea on top of Flynn’s hot plate.

”No offense, Student Flynn. But Master Graves will *easily* defeat you! He’ll wrangle you like CATtle! But, at least, it’ll be eduCATional for you!”

…

Irwin leans toward Flynn. ”...Sorry, who’s this? And did she just pronounce ‘ed-u-ca-shun-al’ like it’s got the word ‘cat’ in it.”

”Oh, right. Uh… Furball, this is Ir-dawg. Ir-dawg, th-”

”Dog?!?” The bearded woman’s back clenches as she pounces up on the counter on her hind legs! She knocks the tea to the ground as she does, slipping off the counter and onto the floor, face first!

…Flynn exhales.

”Yeah, she… uh…” Flynn exhales. ”Look, just don’t say dog around her.”

”*You* said Dog, around her!”

”Dawg?!?” Miss Furry, once again, tries to leap to show off her catlike reflexes, but again, trips over her own feet and lands on her face.

”For God’s sake…” Flynn exasperatedly reaches for a bottle, before sprays Furry in the face!

Furry hisses!

”Back to your room! Scat, cat!”

Furry scampers across the floor into a closet!

…

Irwin squints.

”Hey, wait, that’s *my* closet!”

…Flynn grits his teeth.

”I wouldn’t, if I were you. Her litter box is in there.”

…

”So, wait. She doesn’t know you’re Gravy?”

”Doesn’t seem like it.”

…

Irwin scratches his head again.

”Well… what about him?” Irwin points to his side.

…

The camera pans over to reveal Peter Parkor, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

…

It’s Flynn’s turn to scratch his head.

”Frankly, I have no idea. Poor kid knocks himself unconscious so often, I don’t think we’ve actually had a chance to speak.”


…Irwin leans over and waves a hand in front of Peter’s face.

…He doesn’t move an inch.

…

”Okay.” Irwin nods. ”I think I get it.”

Irwin points at both the unconscious kid in pajamas and the closet housing the cat-cosplayer.

”These are… what, your lackeys? Meat shields? The whole ‘unionizing’ and ‘collective action’ and ‘elevating jobbers’ game is… what, a ploy? A con? To get back to the Uni title scene, right?”

…Flynn sits back in his chair and squints.

Parsing out Irwin’s assessment.

…As if he’s trying to figure out if that’s what he’s been doing all along.

…

Finally, he shakes his head.

”Nah. Nah, I think… I think I really want this. I want wrestling to be… a better place.”

…

”Are you dying?”

”What?!?”

”You have to tell me if you’re dying!”

”I’m not dying, Irmano!”

…

”Is that what you’d tell me if you *were* dying, though?”

”FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I’M NOT DYING!”

…

Irwin grabs his chair.

And swings it beside Flynn’s.

”Okay, sir.”

“Then…”

“Why do you want this?”
…Flynn sneers.

”Oh… what? Is it *so* out of character for Mark Flynn to want to make wrestling a better place? To make better working conditions for his coworkers?”

…

”Yes.” Irwin nods. ”It’s one-hundred percent out-of-character.”

”Oh c’mon, Irwinner!”

”Sir, I’ve watched you dislocate… SO MANY PEOPLE’S ARMS!” Irwin retches, almost getting sick just thinking about the physical carnage he’s witnessed. ”So… excuse me if I’m a little skeptical at you deciding your coworker’s *shouldn’t* be maimed for the crime of sharing a ring with you.”

…

”Sigh.”

”Fair enough..”

…

”I’ve been having this dream.”

”Dream?”

”About NK.”

…

The two look over to the crib in the corner. Where a small (officially) one-year-old infant naps.

”I dream he’s grown up. And he’s running the ropes. And he’s good, man. He’s everything I’d wished I could be.”

“The GUY.”

“The ONE.”


Quote:That moment, jogging in! NK! Wearing a blue robe… Much like the one Flynn dons, but child-sized.

‘Prince of the Midcarders’.


”...And then, he gets hurt.”

“And I wake up.”

“And I feel like I can’t breathe.”

…

“I’m old, Ir-wig. By the time, he’s 17, I’ll be… FUCK, Sixty?!?”

Flynn exhales.

”If he ever decides to wrestle… I won’t be able to protect him.”

…

Flynn sighs.

”But maybe…”

“I can protect him then.”

“If I can make things better now.”

…

Irwin side-eyes the infant in a crib.

”Mister Flynn.”

Irwin sets a hand on Flynn’s shoulder.



“How can I help?”

…

”What size tights do you wear?”

…

”What?”


Mark Flynn.

We both knew it’d come to this, huh?

We’ve discussed shedding the self.

Embracing the collective spirit.

…

But, it’s all talk until we kill the ‘ego’

In ‘egomaniac’.

You like playing lawyer, Flynn?

Let’s count your crimes.

You’ve maimed.

Brutalized.

Bullied.

Tortured.

Punished.

Tormented your coworkers.

You’re a poison to the union.

You play people’s weaknesses and fears like a fiddle.

Convincing them that the only way is going solo

To hunt alone.

Climb the ladder alone.

…

That’s what you did, right?

You ascended THE MOUNTAINTOP.

Reached the Universal Title!

…

And what awaited you?

Nothing but the long fall back to Earth.

…

Let’s be honest.

Mark Flynn is already dead.

A name belonging more in the pages of anicent history.

Than the here-and-now.

…

Now, it’s just a matter of freeing the living.

From this spirit of Wrestling’s Past.

This toxic sludge poisoning the well of hope.

…

The Union rises.

And Mark Flynn.

The vestige of the past.

Drops into his Grave…

…

s.]]>
Irwin scratches his head.

”So.”

…

He scratches his head again.

…

”Okay, let me see if I have this right.”

”You’re wrestling ‘Micheal Graves’.”

”Correct.”

”For the Anarchy Title.”

”You’ve got it.”

”...But also, YOU’RE Micheal Graves.”

…Flynn bobs his head up-and-down.

”For the sake of argument, let’s say, it’s possible that I’m Micheal Graves.”

”...Who will be wrestling Mark Flynn.”

”Yessir.”

”For the Anarchy Title.”

…

Irwin nods, smiling, like okay, I’ve got it.

…

Before it contorts back into a frown.

”...Okay.”

…

”So… what’s the plan?”

”Wel-”

”That’s easy!”

The two turn to the room’s corner, where Miss Furry, (Student of Gravy), is in the storage unit’s makeshift kitchen, brewing herself a pot of tea on top of Flynn’s hot plate.

”No offense, Student Flynn. But Master Graves will *easily* defeat you! He’ll wrangle you like CATtle! But, at least, it’ll be eduCATional for you!”

…

Irwin leans toward Flynn. ”...Sorry, who’s this? And did she just pronounce ‘ed-u-ca-shun-al’ like it’s got the word ‘cat’ in it.”

”Oh, right. Uh… Furball, this is Ir-dawg. Ir-dawg, th-”

”Dog?!?” The bearded woman’s back clenches as she pounces up on the counter on her hind legs! She knocks the tea to the ground as she does, slipping off the counter and onto the floor, face first!

…Flynn exhales.

”Yeah, she… uh…” Flynn exhales. ”Look, just don’t say dog around her.”

”*You* said Dog, around her!”

”Dawg?!?” Miss Furry, once again, tries to leap to show off her catlike reflexes, but again, trips over her own feet and lands on her face.

”For God’s sake…” Flynn exasperatedly reaches for a bottle, before sprays Furry in the face!

Furry hisses!

”Back to your room! Scat, cat!”

Furry scampers across the floor into a closet!

…

Irwin squints.

”Hey, wait, that’s *my* closet!”

…Flynn grits his teeth.

”I wouldn’t, if I were you. Her litter box is in there.”

…

”So, wait. She doesn’t know you’re Gravy?”

”Doesn’t seem like it.”

…

Irwin scratches his head again.

”Well… what about him?” Irwin points to his side.

…

The camera pans over to reveal Peter Parkor, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

…

It’s Flynn’s turn to scratch his head.

”Frankly, I have no idea. Poor kid knocks himself unconscious so often, I don’t think we’ve actually had a chance to speak.”


…Irwin leans over and waves a hand in front of Peter’s face.

…He doesn’t move an inch.

…

”Okay.” Irwin nods. ”I think I get it.”

Irwin points at both the unconscious kid in pajamas and the closet housing the cat-cosplayer.

”These are… what, your lackeys? Meat shields? The whole ‘unionizing’ and ‘collective action’ and ‘elevating jobbers’ game is… what, a ploy? A con? To get back to the Uni title scene, right?”

…Flynn sits back in his chair and squints.

Parsing out Irwin’s assessment.

…As if he’s trying to figure out if that’s what he’s been doing all along.

…

Finally, he shakes his head.

”Nah. Nah, I think… I think I really want this. I want wrestling to be… a better place.”

…

”Are you dying?”

”What?!?”

”You have to tell me if you’re dying!”

”I’m not dying, Irmano!”

…

”Is that what you’d tell me if you *were* dying, though?”

”FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I’M NOT DYING!”

…

Irwin grabs his chair.

And swings it beside Flynn’s.

”Okay, sir.”

“Then…”

“Why do you want this?”
…Flynn sneers.

”Oh… what? Is it *so* out of character for Mark Flynn to want to make wrestling a better place? To make better working conditions for his coworkers?”

…

”Yes.” Irwin nods. ”It’s one-hundred percent out-of-character.”

”Oh c’mon, Irwinner!”

”Sir, I’ve watched you dislocate… SO MANY PEOPLE’S ARMS!” Irwin retches, almost getting sick just thinking about the physical carnage he’s witnessed. ”So… excuse me if I’m a little skeptical at you deciding your coworker’s *shouldn’t* be maimed for the crime of sharing a ring with you.”

…

”Sigh.”

”Fair enough..”

…

”I’ve been having this dream.”

”Dream?”

”About NK.”

…

The two look over to the crib in the corner. Where a small (officially) one-year-old infant naps.

”I dream he’s grown up. And he’s running the ropes. And he’s good, man. He’s everything I’d wished I could be.”

“The GUY.”

“The ONE.”


Quote:That moment, jogging in! NK! Wearing a blue robe… Much like the one Flynn dons, but child-sized.

‘Prince of the Midcarders’.


”...And then, he gets hurt.”

“And I wake up.”

“And I feel like I can’t breathe.”

…

“I’m old, Ir-wig. By the time, he’s 17, I’ll be… FUCK, Sixty?!?”

Flynn exhales.

”If he ever decides to wrestle… I won’t be able to protect him.”

…

Flynn sighs.

”But maybe…”

“I can protect him then.”

“If I can make things better now.”

…

Irwin side-eyes the infant in a crib.

”Mister Flynn.”

Irwin sets a hand on Flynn’s shoulder.



“How can I help?”

…

”What size tights do you wear?”

…

”What?”


Mark Flynn.

We both knew it’d come to this, huh?

We’ve discussed shedding the self.

Embracing the collective spirit.

…

But, it’s all talk until we kill the ‘ego’

In ‘egomaniac’.

You like playing lawyer, Flynn?

Let’s count your crimes.

You’ve maimed.

Brutalized.

Bullied.

Tortured.

Punished.

Tormented your coworkers.

You’re a poison to the union.

You play people’s weaknesses and fears like a fiddle.

Convincing them that the only way is going solo

To hunt alone.

Climb the ladder alone.

…

That’s what you did, right?

You ascended THE MOUNTAINTOP.

Reached the Universal Title!

…

And what awaited you?

Nothing but the long fall back to Earth.

…

Let’s be honest.

Mark Flynn is already dead.

A name belonging more in the pages of anicent history.

Than the here-and-now.

…

Now, it’s just a matter of freeing the living.

From this spirit of Wrestling’s Past.

This toxic sludge poisoning the well of hope.

…

The Union rises.

And Mark Flynn.

The vestige of the past.

Drops into his Grave…

…

s.]]> <![CDATA[Mark Flynn in "Micheal Graves"]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48221 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 20:31:29 -0800 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48221 Previously…

Quote:Tote/Tate/Wilson scrolls through hundreds of wrestling tweets.

…

“Okay.”

…T/T/W takes a deep breath.

“Irwin.”

“I’m going to tell you something.”

“And I want you to be calm.”

…

“Okay?”

…

“Mark Flynn.”

T/T/W sighs.

[yellow“IS retiring.”[/yellow]

…

“BUT! That doesn’t mean I was wrong about the other things, okay?”

T/T/W starts to turn around.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not hims-”

…

Irwin is off the bench.

…

And his chains rest on the floor.

…

Left on the ground?

T/T/W’s nail file.

…

On the wall?

An open window.

…

T/T/W pinches her brow.

“Goddammit.”

”So, I ran!”

“Evading law enforcement at every turn… Having to think one step ahead… Completely entering my hunters’ mind, anticipating their every move!”

“Through sheer force of will, I became a master of disguise! Able to assume the form of anything from a light pole! To a garbage can! To a Hispanic mother and her two children at the drop of a hat!”

“I ran over a th-”

”Do it.”


…Irwin glances up from his dramatic retelling of his heroic escape.

”...What, sir?”

”You said you’d become a master of disguise, and could assume the form of a Hispanic mother AND her two kids at the drop of a hat.”

”...Well, maybe not *assume the form* completely… but… I *could* bear a passing resemblance that the police would think… I was a small Latin American family.”

”Bullshit.”

”No, really!” Irwin shakes his head, insisting emphatically! ”I totally could, sir! I had to do it multiple times on my way here!”

”Then, do it!” Flynn dares Irwin, as a hand surreptitiously reaches into his pocket…

”It’s not something I can do at will! It’s a reflex! A survival tactic I’ve trained into my core! Like a chameleon! Or a Condylostylus fl-!”

WHEEEEE OOOOOOOOOOOOOH! WHEEEEEEEEEE OH!

All of a sudden, the sound of police sirens!

”Cops!”

That moment, the camera pans to Flynn’s face, as off-screen, there’s the sound of flesh and bone shifting…

Transforming…

…As Flynn’s expression turns to one of astonished horror!

…

Following by begrudging acceptance, accompanied by a single clap.

”Fine, yeah, okay. I’ll admit when I’m wrong… You *can* become a small Latin-American family right there, Ir-dawg.”

…The camera pans backwards as muscles detense and shift…

And by the time it arrives back to Irwin, he’s redonning his trademark glasses.

“Anyway, where was I I ran across six states! All the way from a courthouse in New York! Over one-thousand mi-”

”Question.” Flynn raises a hand.

Irwin is flummoxed by the interruption, but nods. ”Uh… g-go ahead, Mister Flynn?”

”Why were you in New York?”

…

”Mister Flynn, I was charged with… murder? Of Maximillian Duhast?”

“Remember? 1029 W. 123rd St? You and Mister Kaye and Mister King and Mister Pryce and I all played Clue?”

…

”Uh-huh.”

…Flynn scratches his chin.

”Uh… What was I wearing at the time?”

…Irwin sighs.

[white]”A paisley safari outfit with monocle, a la Col-”

Flynn snaps his fingers! ”A la Colonel Mustard! That’s right! I remember now!”

…

”You killed that guy!”

Irwin horrifiedly shakes his head. ”S-sir! I promise I didn’t! That’s what I kept calling you about! About Mister Clinton could defend me in court!”

…Flynn squints. ”Oh yeeeeeeeeah.”

…

”Well, that asshole’s gone now. The law office has closed up shop…”

”...Oh!” Irwin dry-swallows. ”...Really? You sure?”

”Evicted permanently from his last residence.” Flynn mutters, as he taps the side of his head. ”I’ve converted the frat house of voices in my head into a single-tenant dwelling.”

…

Irwin breathes a sigh…

”Well, to be honest, sir…”

…

”That’s a huge relief!”

…Flynn squints.

”Really? You don’t want Super-Attorney to bail you out?”

…Irwin grits his teeth.

”I mean… Admittedly, that is going to make the issue of my… freedom... more complicated.” Irwin shakes his head. ”But, sir! I mainly came all this way because I was worried you were in danger!”

…

”Danger, Irwinner?”

”...I felt… through our cosmic connection. The bond we share!”

Flynn coughs. *KERAGH*parasocialrelationship*WHEEZE*”

”What?”

”Nothing, go on.”

”The last time I spoke to you… You were acting 100% like Mister Clinton! And I couldn’t… *feel* you. It was like you were gone! Completely stripped from this mortal plane!”

”But, I get here and…” …Irwin knocks on the wooden table. ”It’s you!” Irwin stretches out of his seat, to clench Mister Flynn into a hug. “You’re really you, Mister Flynn!”

Flynn wretches, as he shoves back the poor nerd to arm’s length. ”Of course, I’m ME, Irwin. Who else would I be?!?”

Irwin shakes his head. ”Right, of course! I’m just so glad to get back to where we left off!” Irwin reaches into a drawer, retrieving his trapper-keeper with Flynn’s face on it, (right where he left it).

Irwin licks the pen, and flips to a fresh page.

”So, what’s our scheme, huh? What will Mark Flynn do to take over the wrestling world?!?”

…

”Uh…”

“It’s.”

“‘Micheal Graves’, actually…”

“And we’re…”

“*throat-clear*”

“Unionizing wrestling.”

…

”What?”


Okay.

Graves.

Your fifteen minutes are up.

Time to go back to irrelevance.

Aw, don’t be said.

We all had a nice laugh, huh?

We turned the wrestling world on its head, didn’t we?

For two whole months.

‘Micheal Graves’ went from being the wrestling industry’s punchline…

To TOP-TIER TALENT.

Your name is LITERALLY #1 on the ELO chart.

(in quotes, cuz we all know who’s actually numero one).

And all it took?

Was a little substitute casting.

For the

GREATEST.

WRESTLER.

WHO EVER LIVED.

…

Since Day One.

To don the ‘Dark Warrior’ mantle.

And create the single most captivating story on Thursday Night.

…

What did I say I would do?

I told the whole Anarchy Roster.

I could come in and take the belt…

ANY TIME I WANTED.

…

And I did.

…

It’s been fun.

A gas.

A laugh-and-a-half.

…

But now?

Halloween was last month.

Time to hang up the costume.

And shove the dead back in their Graves.]]> Previously…

Quote:Tote/Tate/Wilson scrolls through hundreds of wrestling tweets.

…

“Okay.”

…T/T/W takes a deep breath.

“Irwin.”

“I’m going to tell you something.”

“And I want you to be calm.”

…

“Okay?”

…

“Mark Flynn.”

T/T/W sighs.

[yellow“IS retiring.”[/yellow]

…

“BUT! That doesn’t mean I was wrong about the other things, okay?”

T/T/W starts to turn around.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not hims-”

…

Irwin is off the bench.

…

And his chains rest on the floor.

…

Left on the ground?

T/T/W’s nail file.

…

On the wall?

An open window.

…

T/T/W pinches her brow.

“Goddammit.”

”So, I ran!”

“Evading law enforcement at every turn… Having to think one step ahead… Completely entering my hunters’ mind, anticipating their every move!”

“Through sheer force of will, I became a master of disguise! Able to assume the form of anything from a light pole! To a garbage can! To a Hispanic mother and her two children at the drop of a hat!”

“I ran over a th-”

”Do it.”


…Irwin glances up from his dramatic retelling of his heroic escape.

”...What, sir?”

”You said you’d become a master of disguise, and could assume the form of a Hispanic mother AND her two kids at the drop of a hat.”

”...Well, maybe not *assume the form* completely… but… I *could* bear a passing resemblance that the police would think… I was a small Latin American family.”

”Bullshit.”

”No, really!” Irwin shakes his head, insisting emphatically! ”I totally could, sir! I had to do it multiple times on my way here!”

”Then, do it!” Flynn dares Irwin, as a hand surreptitiously reaches into his pocket…

”It’s not something I can do at will! It’s a reflex! A survival tactic I’ve trained into my core! Like a chameleon! Or a Condylostylus fl-!”

WHEEEEE OOOOOOOOOOOOOH! WHEEEEEEEEEE OH!

All of a sudden, the sound of police sirens!

”Cops!”

That moment, the camera pans to Flynn’s face, as off-screen, there’s the sound of flesh and bone shifting…

Transforming…

…As Flynn’s expression turns to one of astonished horror!

…

Following by begrudging acceptance, accompanied by a single clap.

”Fine, yeah, okay. I’ll admit when I’m wrong… You *can* become a small Latin-American family right there, Ir-dawg.”

…The camera pans backwards as muscles detense and shift…

And by the time it arrives back to Irwin, he’s redonning his trademark glasses.

“Anyway, where was I I ran across six states! All the way from a courthouse in New York! Over one-thousand mi-”

”Question.” Flynn raises a hand.

Irwin is flummoxed by the interruption, but nods. ”Uh… g-go ahead, Mister Flynn?”

”Why were you in New York?”

…

”Mister Flynn, I was charged with… murder? Of Maximillian Duhast?”

“Remember? 1029 W. 123rd St? You and Mister Kaye and Mister King and Mister Pryce and I all played Clue?”

…

”Uh-huh.”

…Flynn scratches his chin.

”Uh… What was I wearing at the time?”

…Irwin sighs.

[white]”A paisley safari outfit with monocle, a la Col-”

Flynn snaps his fingers! ”A la Colonel Mustard! That’s right! I remember now!”

…

”You killed that guy!”

Irwin horrifiedly shakes his head. ”S-sir! I promise I didn’t! That’s what I kept calling you about! About Mister Clinton could defend me in court!”

…Flynn squints. ”Oh yeeeeeeeeah.”

…

”Well, that asshole’s gone now. The law office has closed up shop…”

”...Oh!” Irwin dry-swallows. ”...Really? You sure?”

”Evicted permanently from his last residence.” Flynn mutters, as he taps the side of his head. ”I’ve converted the frat house of voices in my head into a single-tenant dwelling.”

…

Irwin breathes a sigh…

”Well, to be honest, sir…”

…

”That’s a huge relief!”

…Flynn squints.

”Really? You don’t want Super-Attorney to bail you out?”

…Irwin grits his teeth.

”I mean… Admittedly, that is going to make the issue of my… freedom... more complicated.” Irwin shakes his head. ”But, sir! I mainly came all this way because I was worried you were in danger!”

…

”Danger, Irwinner?”

”...I felt… through our cosmic connection. The bond we share!”

Flynn coughs. *KERAGH*parasocialrelationship*WHEEZE*”

”What?”

”Nothing, go on.”

”The last time I spoke to you… You were acting 100% like Mister Clinton! And I couldn’t… *feel* you. It was like you were gone! Completely stripped from this mortal plane!”

”But, I get here and…” …Irwin knocks on the wooden table. ”It’s you!” Irwin stretches out of his seat, to clench Mister Flynn into a hug. “You’re really you, Mister Flynn!”

Flynn wretches, as he shoves back the poor nerd to arm’s length. ”Of course, I’m ME, Irwin. Who else would I be?!?”

Irwin shakes his head. ”Right, of course! I’m just so glad to get back to where we left off!” Irwin reaches into a drawer, retrieving his trapper-keeper with Flynn’s face on it, (right where he left it).

Irwin licks the pen, and flips to a fresh page.

”So, what’s our scheme, huh? What will Mark Flynn do to take over the wrestling world?!?”

…

”Uh…”

“It’s.”

“‘Micheal Graves’, actually…”

“And we’re…”

“*throat-clear*”

“Unionizing wrestling.”

…

”What?”


Okay.

Graves.

Your fifteen minutes are up.

Time to go back to irrelevance.

Aw, don’t be said.

We all had a nice laugh, huh?

We turned the wrestling world on its head, didn’t we?

For two whole months.

‘Micheal Graves’ went from being the wrestling industry’s punchline…

To TOP-TIER TALENT.

Your name is LITERALLY #1 on the ELO chart.

(in quotes, cuz we all know who’s actually numero one).

And all it took?

Was a little substitute casting.

For the

GREATEST.

WRESTLER.

WHO EVER LIVED.

…

Since Day One.

To don the ‘Dark Warrior’ mantle.

And create the single most captivating story on Thursday Night.

…

What did I say I would do?

I told the whole Anarchy Roster.

I could come in and take the belt…

ANY TIME I WANTED.

…

And I did.

…

It’s been fun.

A gas.

A laugh-and-a-half.

…

But now?

Halloween was last month.

Time to hang up the costume.

And shove the dead back in their Graves.]]> <![CDATA[Vault-Tec Calling: Finale]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48220 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 19:37:13 -0800 Game Girl]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48220 “OPA!”

The war cry startles Dolly and Game Girl as Atara Raven bursts from the underbrush in a worn-down Vault-Tec jumpsuit showing scandalous skin. Dolly grabs at her heart as Game Girl’s screen is stuck in a state of shock. Atara gives a manic giggle as she crawls out of the brush and joins the pair by the campfire. Raven’s hair is bedraggled, holding a nest of twigs and dirt. Her face boasts a wide smile with smeared red lipstick and her eyes dart between GG and Dolly as they look back at the beauty carved by marble but buried under a layer of rubble. Waters thumbs her revolver but GG holds her arm back as she peers at Atara. A gasp of a giddy laugh exits her.

“You’re Atara Raven!”

Atara blushes slightly, brushing a cockroach off her face.

“The one and only!”

Dolly’s lip upturns as she keeps her revolver holstered, eyeing Atara up and down.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?”

Atara rolls her eyes and places the cockroach on a sharp stick, holding it over the fire.

“Do we truly need to get into the semantics, dove? Let’s get to the real issue at hand.” Atara flashes her eyelashes and her doe eyes land on the two. “A missing reactor core and some trouble with snakes?”

Atara plucks the roach with her teeth. Dolly turns fully to face Atara.

“You eavesdropping on us?”

Raven gulps down the bug and politely dabs her puckered lips.

“In my defense you were speaking awfully loud.”

“Since you heard all about it, Mrs. Raven-”

Atara quickly cuts GG off.

“Ew, just Atara, please.”

“Oh, I apologize! Miss Atara, ma’am. Since you know our situation, any chance you’re willing to lend your fellow Vault-Tec-ians a hand?”

Game Girl claps her hands together in a hopeful plea towards Atty who looks bored between the two, with a shrug she speaks.

“Sure.”

:D

“On one condition!”

:ᗡ

“I want a warm bath, a private bedroom AND! A highly-choreographed performance welcoming me to your vault.”

Dolly hangs her head, hiding a snort as GG ponders.

“Sure! Our current residents are either heavily overweight or feeble but I bet they’ll start toe-tapping when they see Vault-Tec’s best poster gal!”

“θαυμάσιος!! ... Who are you by the way?”

“Game Girl!” She throws out a hand as Dolly tips her hat. “And this is Dolly.”

Atara gives a “hmm” before pinching GG’s finger with a slight shake.

“Charmed.”

“This is all well and good that we’re all cozy now, but don’t you think it's time we mosey on out of here?”

GG pats her knees and stands up.

“Absolutely! I’m trying my best to be cheery but I am quite distraught!”

“Attagirl!” Atara says with a spin. “My old agent always said, hide the sadness behind a vault door! No one wants to see a pretty girl cry!”

“Sounds like a real peach.”

Dolly takes her cowboy hat off and dusts her pants with the brim as she joins the other two. Atara looks at her with wide eyes and an unsteady nod.

“He tasted like one too!”

Game Girl gives a soft “hmm” with an enthusiastic nod at this piece of information moments before her head is knocked clean off her shoulders. Dolly draws her revolver, sticking the barrel in the face of the attacker as Atara throws her hands up and chases after GG’s screen tumbling over the ground.

“That’s for sticking me in the freezer, you stupid tin can!”

Dolly kicks the hammer back on the revolver as she aims at a pissed Erik Holland. Game Girl calls from Atara’s arm, her body turning to Dolly shielding Erik, although his head is still very exposed.

“Dolly wait! He’s a resident of 98!”

“GG, you keep stopping me from shooting people today and this asshole’s mean-mugging me right now and my finger’s gettin’ itchy.”

“HAH! Shoot me! I’ll bite the bullet and spit it back at you, Bitch Cassidy.”

“Ya got a smart mouth, let’s see how well you speak when your jaws detached from your thick skull.”

Atara smiles looking at the two, her shoulders shimmying. Game Girl’s eyebrows turn up as she pleads.

“Dolly, don’t please! Erik, it’s lovely to see you again and I hope you’ve gotten that anger out of your system… Also is your hand okay?”

Erik looks at his knuckles briefly before looking back to Dolly.

“Oh yeah, all out my system, I’m a real Buddha right now.”

The sarcasm leaving Erik pours into Dolly who cracks a smirk.

“That is great news! I’m happy your cryo-stasis… Chilled you out!”

She gives some wanting “ahs” as her body lightly elbows Erik and Dolly. Waters lifts the revolver back and spins it back into the holster.

“You hit her again, being a popsicle will be a dream compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Erik gives an impressed chuckle.

“Noted. Now-” Erik looks at Atara and Game Girl. “Why the hell am I awake, overseer?”[white]

“Reactor blew, thanks to a group known as the Tunnel Snakes. We’re going to track them down if you’re willing to direct those fists at some people who deserve it for once.”

Atara lifts GG’s head and reattaches it to the body with a twirl. Holland nods.

[white] “Tunnel Snakes? Sure, overseer! I’ll help you if you help me.”

“What is it you’re after?”

“I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“Ooh, our ménage à trois has turned into a κόμμα!”

“Quite speaking tongues and let’s get the hell out of here, nearest town is Haven, they should know where these snake bastards went.”

GG gives a nod.

“Okie dokie! Let’s hit the road!”



Haven

tUnNeL sNaKeZ rUlE




The sun hangs low, painting the wastelands in hues of amber and crimson as the party trudge toward Haven. The journey had been uneventful save for Atty’s off-key rendition of a Vault-Tec jingle, and Erik’s occasional grumbles about “waking up too damn early for this apocalypse.”

Just ahead, the settlement emerges like a ghost from the dust and soot- there’s burnt-out buildings, all leaning precariously against one another, skeletal remains of market stalls littering the dirt streets, and graffiti that screams “tUnNeL sNaKeZ rUlE” on every avaialble surface.

Game girl stopped short, her screen flickering with a :O shocked emoji.

“Oh no… not another town…”

Dolly adjusts the revolver at her hip.

“This ain’t a town, my friend. It’s a graveyard.”

As they cross into Haven’s center, a tall, gaunt figure steps out from the largest remaining structure- a rusted metal building with a faded “Haven General Store” sign.

Maddeus Nuke stands before them, dressed in a tattered Vault-Tec blazer adorned with makeshift medals made from bottle caps.

MN: “Welcome, travelers!” he exclaims, throwing his arms open as though greeting old friends.MN: “Welcome to Haven- the last bastion of… well, me.”

Dolly exchanges a wary glance with Game Girl before stepping forward,

“You Maddeus Nuke?”

MN: “The one and only!”

he replies, bowing with an exaggerated flair.

MN: “And you are- OH, WAIT! Let me guess. You’re here because of those charming Tunnel Snakes. They draw quite the following! Everybody loves them.”

“Charmin?!”

Erik grumbles.

“They trashed this place and took your core, didn’t they?”

Maddeus chuckles nervously, wringing his hands.

MN: “Well, yes, but they were so… persuasive! So… cool! I couldn’t say no. They said it was a ‘necessary evil,’ you know, for the greater good. If VAULT 101 is great, the world will be great!”

Dolly snorts,

“Sounds like you got played, pal.”

Maddeus’ face twitches, but quickly he covers it with a nervous laugh, his grin widening into something toothy and insincere,

MN: Played? Oh no, no! I’m not a fool. I’m a… facilitator! I have them what they needed- our reactor core, supplies, some… manpower. In return, they promised to, uh, ‘make Haven great again’.” He gestures around the ruins as if they were a bustling metropolis.

The group stares in disbelief as Maddeus puffs out his chest, his voice lowering conspiratorially,

MN: And besides, they’re my friends… my BEST friends. And that Lucy? His grin turns awkwardly smug as he straightens his tie, leaning closer like he was sharing a well-kept secret MN: She’s even my GIRLFRIEND now.

Atara leans into Game Girl, whispering,

“He’s got the charisma of a wet radroach.”

“Radroach with a god complex,” Dolly mutters under her breath.

Game Girl steps forward, her voice unusually firm.

“Maddeus, do you even realize what you’ve done? That core wasn’t yours to give. It belonged to the people of Haven. The people who built this place. Same for the core that was stolen from Goodacre and subsequently blew our vault's power. Those cores are the lifeblood of our people, not handouts for whoever strokes your ego!”

Maddeus waves a dismissive hand.

MN: “Details, details. I mean, really, what’s a vault, or a town compared to the survival of the entire wasteland? Sacrifices must be made, Overseer!”

Erik’s fists tighten, the leather of his gloves audibly cracking around his knuckles.

“Sacrifices? Like the people you let die here?”

Maddeus flinches but quickly rebounds, his smile faltering,

MN: “Now, now, let’s not dwell on the past! The Sankes… well, they’ve moved onto greener pastures. Vault 99, I believe.”

“Vault 99?”

Game Girl’s screen lights up with a question mark.

MN: “Yes, yes. They said something about creating a new hub of civilization.” his face glows, his voice dripping with sycophantic admiration. [thad]MN: You should see them work- they’re like a well oiled machine! So efficient, so organized! Truly the best of the business. Bringing order and strength to the wastelands.”

“They’re parasites” Dolly shoots back, her eyes narrowing. “And yer’ too dumb to see it.”

Maddeus gasps, clutching at his chest.

MN: “How rude! I was trying to help!”

Atara rolls her eyes,

“Help? Darling, you handed them the keys to the kingdom and watched them burn it to the ground.”

“Sounds like the same hypocritical garbage their leader Sebastian spews. Best in the business.” she spits on the ground “All it means is they’ll take what they want and leave the rest of us to clean up the mess.”

Game Girl places a hand on Dolly’s shoulder, her voice softening

“We can’t fix Haven, but we can stop them from doing this again.”

Dolly nods.

“Vault 99 it is.”

Erik steps forward, looming over Maddeus,

“If you ever see those snakes again, you tell them this: Vault 98 is coming for what’s ours.”

The group disappears into the wasteland, their silhouettes framed against the setting sun.

War never changes


Not even a mile outside of Haven, the crew ventures through the scorched and desolate wastelands. The terrain is littered with the remnants of settlements crushed under the reckless opportunism of the Tunnel Snakes. Burned-out husks of homes sit like tombstones for lives lost. Once-thriving villages have been picked clean, their ruins defiled by more Tunnel Snakes graffiti.

The crew walks in silence, the weight of the devastation around them pressing down like the sleepless sun overhead. Each of them wrestling with their own thoughts about the battle ahead, their interpretations as fractured as the world they’re trying to save.

Erik’s boots crunch against the brittle dirt. His gaze shifted over the ruins. He spits into the dust, his lip curling into a snarl.

[white] “They don’t deserve mercy” he growls, flexing his fists. “Look at this place. They didn’t just take what they needed… they wiped everything out! Burned it all down just to feed their egos.”

He picks up a charred wooden plank, its edges blackened and jagged. More Tunnel Snakes graffiti scrawled in soot across its surface. He tosses it to the side with disgust.

“This isn’t survival. It’s tyranny. The only way to end this is to break them, to smash them so hard they never get back up.”

Atara pauses, the old Symbol of Vault Tec, it’s Idealism… her hand brushes against the flinty husk of what was once a metal sign. She wipes away the grime to reveal a faded Vault-Tec branding. Her eyes widen, the blue of her gaze reflecting the ghost of what once was.

“This was an outreach station,” she murmurs ”I remember the posters, the recruitment drives…”

She takes a slow step back, her gaze sweeping over the ruins.

“These bastards tore down my legacy!”

“Fuck your legacy! They're dishonorable punks that need to learn a lesson.”

Atara looks to the earth and brushes dirt off a stained metal poster she picks it up; an old promotional Vault Tec poster from the dirt, that show’s Atty in the fashion of Rosie the Riveter

“...that’s me.”

Atara reminisces, her finger tracing over the image.

"I know things are bleak, but we need to have some hope... Maybe there's a reason for all this?"

“Wait.”

Dolly raises her hand to halt the others, while spotting something in the distance.

The rest follow as she crouches beside two lifeless forms lying in the dirt. Two corpses lay on the ground in blue and gold jumpsuits. Their bodies are battered and burned, their faces frozen in terror.

Dolly’s lips press into a thin line as she rises, turning back to the group,

“Hope?.”

she scoffs, her voice bitter and cynical,

“There’s no hope with people like this running the show. I’ve dealt with megalomaniacs like their leader Sebastian before. You think they care about humanity? About survival?”

She gestures toward the corpses, her voice rising.

“This is what they care about- power, recognition. And they’ll kill anyone who doesn’t bow down to them. You really think they’re going to listen to reason?”

She looks each of them in the eye before muttering under her breath.

“There’s no humanity in people like Sebastian and his snakes. You either worship the ground they walk upon, or yer’ not worthy to live.”

Game Girl kneels beside the bodies. Her screen flickers, the cheerful expressions glitching into something more somber. She gently reaches out, closing their lifeless eyes as if to grant them some final dignity.

“They deserved better.” GGl plants a hand on one of the corpse’s chests, her thumb gently stroking the faded 98 jumpsuit. “The vaults… They were meant to symbolize hope for the future, survival. To carry the torch of mankind forward into the unknown…”

She folds the arms of the corpse and looks deeply at the other with a head tilt. A moment of silence hangs in the air interrupted when Holland kicks a piece of rubble over the rocky earth.

“I don’t want more people to die.”

She stands as the others look at her.

“Are you kiddin’ me? You’ve seen what they’ve done!”

Erik storms over getting in GG’s face.

“Animals like them don’t deserve pity! They deserve to be put in the ground.”

GG’s face glitches, her eyes sharply looking at Erik and back to the bodies. Atara places a hand on her shoulder.

“They’re right, my dear. They need to see the consequences of their actions.”

A deep sigh exits GG as she pats Atara’s hand before looking at the group.

“They will! But if we kill them, then how are we any better? All of us agree what they do is wrong and primitive, so what separates us from them?”

There’s a beat of silence as Game Girl looks at each member.

“All I ask is that you allow me to talk to them first… After that, be what may.”

The group nods solemnly before turning back to the corpses.

“We need to be what the Tunnel Snakes are not.”

The scene fades to black and we come back to two graves at the site, our heroes moving on. The devastation around them is a haunting reminder of what’s at stake. Their silence is heavier now, each carrying the burden of their beliefs as the shadow of Vault 99 looms just ahead.

Vault-Tec Calling!


The crew stands before the imposing metal doors of Vault 99. A long cable linked between Game Girl’s head and the electronic mainframe of the door’s locking mechanism. The entrance is framed by crude scaffolding and towering floodlights.

A long series of binary code comes to an abrupt finish on Game Girl’s face before the words :OVERRIDE COMPLETE: flash. Her pixelated screen flickers back into an expression of solemn determination.

“This is it. Let’s show them what Vault 98 stands for.”

Dolly grunts, adjusting her revolver.

“Hope it’s more than a damn light show, GG. These snakes don’t care about nothin’ but themselves.”

The door grinds open, revealing a world that couldn’t be more different from the desolation outside. Vault 99 is a hedonistic paradise. Neon lights pulse along the steel corridors, leading to a cavernous atrium that’s been transformed into a grotesque caricature of prosperity. Piles of hoarded supplies tower like monuments to greed. Music blares, and scantily clad Vault residents- gaunt and malnourished- serve drinks to the Tunnel Snakes lounging on stolen furniture.

At the center, a throne of scavenged tech looms, occupied by the self-proclaimed “king” of Vault 99, and ruler of the Tunnel Snakes… Sebastian. Draped in his old leather jacket that’s been upgraded with gold plates, he exudes smug confidence, his arms spread wide as if welcoming old friends.

Sebastian: “Well, well! If it isn’t Vault 98’s finest. Come to marvel what true leadership looks like… Overseer?”

Before Game Girl can even react, Erik’s rage has taken center stage. His fists clenched, his entire body vibrating, just teetering away from restraint.

“True leadership?! This ain’t leadership… it’s a goddamn circus! You’re just a parasite sitting on a pile of stolen junk!”

Sebastian chuckles, gesturing grandly to the chaos around him.

Sebastian: “Oh, Erik, always so dramatic. This isn’t junk- it’s survival. Vault 99 was weak, just like Goodacre, just like Haven and every other one horse town I’ve been too. They needed someone strong enough to make the tough choices. And here I am, saving them, saving the world from itself.”

“Saving them, Dove?”

Atara steps forward, her voice cutting through the noise like a whip.

“You’ve turned this place into a nightmare. Vault-Tec wasn’t about hoarding power- it was about giving people hope. You’ve destroyed everything we stood for.”

Sebastian smirks, leaning back in his throne,

Sebastian: “Hope doesn’t keep you alive like some ghoul feasting off of her dying image. Power does. I’ve made the calls to ensure humanity’s survival. Something Vault-Tec clearly couldn’t do.”

“You don’t know the first thing about survival, Sebastian”

Dolly’s voice is low and biting as steps forward, pointing a finger at him.

“You talk about strength, but all you’ve done is take from people who couldn’t fight back. Yer’ not a leader… yer’ a scavenger with a messiah complex. And yer’ too blind to see it’ll all come crashing down”

Sebastian’s smirk falters, but Lucy, stead at his side, leaps to his defense.

Lucy: “The vaults failed because they were soft. They couldn’t adapt to the world as it is. We’re the future- strong, united, and unstoppable. If you can’t see that, maybe you’re just not cut out for this brave new world.”

Erik steps forward, towering over her,

“You mean a world where you bleed people dry and call it progress? You’re nothing but cowards hiding behind your stolen riches, and idiots like Maddeus Nuke who’ve aided your ascent. And I’m ready to make you pay.”

GG holds out a hand, stopping Erik before he can charge. Her voice is calm, but carries the weight of everything they’ve seen.

“This isn’t just about us, Erik. It’s about survival… survival for everyone. And that includes Vault 99.”

She turns her pixelated gaze to Sebastian, her screen flickering with a determined glow.

“You’re not breaking down walls, Sebastian. You’re building them higher, making sure only you stand on the top. But humanity can’t survive like this. We need unity, not division. I’m giving you a chance to start over, you and everyone here is welcome to Vault 98. We have defenses, plenty of food, water and room. All I need is a working reactor core.”

Sebastian scoffs looking at his cronies with a raucous laugh as the others join in.

Sebastian: “Is this a joke!? A trash compactor, Cunt Eastwood, a Z-lister and the world’s angriest coal miner come in here and try making demands!? Threats!? HA! And you think Vault 98 is safe? That you clowns can lead us?”

Dolly steps beside GG, her voice steady and cutting,

“It ain’t about leading. It’s about doing what’s right. And you wouldn’t know that if it hit you in the face.”

Atara joins them, her voice rising with conviction,

“You hate Vault-Tec, but without it, you’re nothing. You’ve built your empire on the backs of people you claim to despise. People you claim you’re better than. And when it falls apart - and it will- you’ll be left with nothing but your arrogance.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes and snaps his fingers. The tension explodes into a chaotic melee as the Tunnel Snakes’ guards converge. Erik charges, fists flying as he barrels into Sebastian’s guards. Atara uses her agility to disarm attackers, her movements a blend of grace and ferocity. Dolly’s revolver cracks, taking out targets with pinpoint accuracy. Game Girl stays at the center, directing the group while protecting the innocent residents caught in the crossfire.

The clash is brutal. A physical manifestation of the ideological war between selfish glory and collective survival. And just as it seems that Vault Tec’s victory is within reach… something changes. Game Girl spots the frightened faces of Vault 99’s residents, huddling together in the shadows. GG’s screen screws into a look of anger as she rushes a nearby terminal, removing the tip of one of her fingers exposing a cable and plugging into the terminal. A loud booming voice blasts through the PA.

“ENOUGH!”

Sentry guns drop from the ceiling, red lasers taking aim on each Tunnel Snake. The fighting stops suddenly as the snakes raise their hands. Game Girl takes a moment.

“There’s access tunnels leading from here back to Vault 98… I’ve just opened them.” She turns her head to Sebastian, a look of confusion on his face. “Fighting, bloodshed, carnage… It’s futile. The only way we can be better is if we evolve together, 98 and 99 joined.”

Game Girl snaps around, her cable falling from the terminal as the sentry guns retract.

“You all have a choice, you can stay here or you can join us. I won’t force your hand.”

Game Girl walks to a nearby door and forces it to open before looking back. Dolly holsters her revolver looking around the room before sniffing up and walking over, her spurs dancing with each step. Atara follows with a blow of a kiss to Sebastian who seethes watching them, then Erik who shakes his head throwing off the rage. Soon, residents join the party. Survivors from towns, men and women in Tunnel Snakes jackets pour away into the tunnels as Sebastian fumbles to his feet shouting after them.

Sebastian: “No-NO! You know how much I sacrificed to build this place!? You can’t just leave! It’s not supposed to work this way!”

As each person leaves, Game Girl hangs back holding her hand on the door frame, with a sincere smile she speaks.

“Enjoy your kingdom, Sebastian. Just remember… it’s hard to rule when people see the truth.”

The Vault Tec crew leaves Sebastian and the Tunnel Snakes behind. The graffiti on the walls seem less mocking now, a reminder of what they’ve lost… and what they’ve gained.

As the group lead their new residents back home Game Girl gives a smile to her comrades who smile back in turn. Dolly clasps a hand over GG’s shoulder as Atara gives a wink. Erik lets out a loud sigh.

“I figured out what I want in exchange for helping you out, overseer.”

“Oh… And what’s that?”

Holland sniffs up and spits out a missing tooth from the brawl.

“A fucking cold beer and a warm cot.”

“Oh that sounds so good right now!”

GG gives a laugh as Atara “oohs” in delight.

“And with all these new residents, you’re gonna have a great welcoming party for me!”

Game Girl smiles nodding her head as we pan through the masses of people following and slowly fade to black.



OOC: Wordcount: 4060




















































Also Sebastian got pink eye and died lol]]> “OPA!”

The war cry startles Dolly and Game Girl as Atara Raven bursts from the underbrush in a worn-down Vault-Tec jumpsuit showing scandalous skin. Dolly grabs at her heart as Game Girl’s screen is stuck in a state of shock. Atara gives a manic giggle as she crawls out of the brush and joins the pair by the campfire. Raven’s hair is bedraggled, holding a nest of twigs and dirt. Her face boasts a wide smile with smeared red lipstick and her eyes dart between GG and Dolly as they look back at the beauty carved by marble but buried under a layer of rubble. Waters thumbs her revolver but GG holds her arm back as she peers at Atara. A gasp of a giddy laugh exits her.

“You’re Atara Raven!”

Atara blushes slightly, brushing a cockroach off her face.

“The one and only!”

Dolly’s lip upturns as she keeps her revolver holstered, eyeing Atara up and down.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?”

Atara rolls her eyes and places the cockroach on a sharp stick, holding it over the fire.

“Do we truly need to get into the semantics, dove? Let’s get to the real issue at hand.” Atara flashes her eyelashes and her doe eyes land on the two. “A missing reactor core and some trouble with snakes?”

Atara plucks the roach with her teeth. Dolly turns fully to face Atara.

“You eavesdropping on us?”

Raven gulps down the bug and politely dabs her puckered lips.

“In my defense you were speaking awfully loud.”

“Since you heard all about it, Mrs. Raven-”

Atara quickly cuts GG off.

“Ew, just Atara, please.”

“Oh, I apologize! Miss Atara, ma’am. Since you know our situation, any chance you’re willing to lend your fellow Vault-Tec-ians a hand?”

Game Girl claps her hands together in a hopeful plea towards Atty who looks bored between the two, with a shrug she speaks.

“Sure.”

:D

“On one condition!”

:ᗡ

“I want a warm bath, a private bedroom AND! A highly-choreographed performance welcoming me to your vault.”

Dolly hangs her head, hiding a snort as GG ponders.

“Sure! Our current residents are either heavily overweight or feeble but I bet they’ll start toe-tapping when they see Vault-Tec’s best poster gal!”

“θαυμάσιος!! ... Who are you by the way?”

“Game Girl!” She throws out a hand as Dolly tips her hat. “And this is Dolly.”

Atara gives a “hmm” before pinching GG’s finger with a slight shake.

“Charmed.”

“This is all well and good that we’re all cozy now, but don’t you think it's time we mosey on out of here?”

GG pats her knees and stands up.

“Absolutely! I’m trying my best to be cheery but I am quite distraught!”

“Attagirl!” Atara says with a spin. “My old agent always said, hide the sadness behind a vault door! No one wants to see a pretty girl cry!”

“Sounds like a real peach.”

Dolly takes her cowboy hat off and dusts her pants with the brim as she joins the other two. Atara looks at her with wide eyes and an unsteady nod.

“He tasted like one too!”

Game Girl gives a soft “hmm” with an enthusiastic nod at this piece of information moments before her head is knocked clean off her shoulders. Dolly draws her revolver, sticking the barrel in the face of the attacker as Atara throws her hands up and chases after GG’s screen tumbling over the ground.

“That’s for sticking me in the freezer, you stupid tin can!”

Dolly kicks the hammer back on the revolver as she aims at a pissed Erik Holland. Game Girl calls from Atara’s arm, her body turning to Dolly shielding Erik, although his head is still very exposed.

“Dolly wait! He’s a resident of 98!”

“GG, you keep stopping me from shooting people today and this asshole’s mean-mugging me right now and my finger’s gettin’ itchy.”

“HAH! Shoot me! I’ll bite the bullet and spit it back at you, Bitch Cassidy.”

“Ya got a smart mouth, let’s see how well you speak when your jaws detached from your thick skull.”

Atara smiles looking at the two, her shoulders shimmying. Game Girl’s eyebrows turn up as she pleads.

“Dolly, don’t please! Erik, it’s lovely to see you again and I hope you’ve gotten that anger out of your system… Also is your hand okay?”

Erik looks at his knuckles briefly before looking back to Dolly.

“Oh yeah, all out my system, I’m a real Buddha right now.”

The sarcasm leaving Erik pours into Dolly who cracks a smirk.

“That is great news! I’m happy your cryo-stasis… Chilled you out!”

She gives some wanting “ahs” as her body lightly elbows Erik and Dolly. Waters lifts the revolver back and spins it back into the holster.

“You hit her again, being a popsicle will be a dream compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Erik gives an impressed chuckle.

“Noted. Now-” Erik looks at Atara and Game Girl. “Why the hell am I awake, overseer?”[white]

“Reactor blew, thanks to a group known as the Tunnel Snakes. We’re going to track them down if you’re willing to direct those fists at some people who deserve it for once.”

Atara lifts GG’s head and reattaches it to the body with a twirl. Holland nods.

[white] “Tunnel Snakes? Sure, overseer! I’ll help you if you help me.”

“What is it you’re after?”

“I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“Ooh, our ménage à trois has turned into a κόμμα!”

“Quite speaking tongues and let’s get the hell out of here, nearest town is Haven, they should know where these snake bastards went.”

GG gives a nod.

“Okie dokie! Let’s hit the road!”



Haven

tUnNeL sNaKeZ rUlE




The sun hangs low, painting the wastelands in hues of amber and crimson as the party trudge toward Haven. The journey had been uneventful save for Atty’s off-key rendition of a Vault-Tec jingle, and Erik’s occasional grumbles about “waking up too damn early for this apocalypse.”

Just ahead, the settlement emerges like a ghost from the dust and soot- there’s burnt-out buildings, all leaning precariously against one another, skeletal remains of market stalls littering the dirt streets, and graffiti that screams “tUnNeL sNaKeZ rUlE” on every avaialble surface.

Game girl stopped short, her screen flickering with a :O shocked emoji.

“Oh no… not another town…”

Dolly adjusts the revolver at her hip.

“This ain’t a town, my friend. It’s a graveyard.”

As they cross into Haven’s center, a tall, gaunt figure steps out from the largest remaining structure- a rusted metal building with a faded “Haven General Store” sign.

Maddeus Nuke stands before them, dressed in a tattered Vault-Tec blazer adorned with makeshift medals made from bottle caps.

MN: “Welcome, travelers!” he exclaims, throwing his arms open as though greeting old friends.MN: “Welcome to Haven- the last bastion of… well, me.”

Dolly exchanges a wary glance with Game Girl before stepping forward,

“You Maddeus Nuke?”

MN: “The one and only!”

he replies, bowing with an exaggerated flair.

MN: “And you are- OH, WAIT! Let me guess. You’re here because of those charming Tunnel Snakes. They draw quite the following! Everybody loves them.”

“Charmin?!”

Erik grumbles.

“They trashed this place and took your core, didn’t they?”

Maddeus chuckles nervously, wringing his hands.

MN: “Well, yes, but they were so… persuasive! So… cool! I couldn’t say no. They said it was a ‘necessary evil,’ you know, for the greater good. If VAULT 101 is great, the world will be great!”

Dolly snorts,

“Sounds like you got played, pal.”

Maddeus’ face twitches, but quickly he covers it with a nervous laugh, his grin widening into something toothy and insincere,

MN: Played? Oh no, no! I’m not a fool. I’m a… facilitator! I have them what they needed- our reactor core, supplies, some… manpower. In return, they promised to, uh, ‘make Haven great again’.” He gestures around the ruins as if they were a bustling metropolis.

The group stares in disbelief as Maddeus puffs out his chest, his voice lowering conspiratorially,

MN: And besides, they’re my friends… my BEST friends. And that Lucy? His grin turns awkwardly smug as he straightens his tie, leaning closer like he was sharing a well-kept secret MN: She’s even my GIRLFRIEND now.

Atara leans into Game Girl, whispering,

“He’s got the charisma of a wet radroach.”

“Radroach with a god complex,” Dolly mutters under her breath.

Game Girl steps forward, her voice unusually firm.

“Maddeus, do you even realize what you’ve done? That core wasn’t yours to give. It belonged to the people of Haven. The people who built this place. Same for the core that was stolen from Goodacre and subsequently blew our vault's power. Those cores are the lifeblood of our people, not handouts for whoever strokes your ego!”

Maddeus waves a dismissive hand.

MN: “Details, details. I mean, really, what’s a vault, or a town compared to the survival of the entire wasteland? Sacrifices must be made, Overseer!”

Erik’s fists tighten, the leather of his gloves audibly cracking around his knuckles.

“Sacrifices? Like the people you let die here?”

Maddeus flinches but quickly rebounds, his smile faltering,

MN: “Now, now, let’s not dwell on the past! The Sankes… well, they’ve moved onto greener pastures. Vault 99, I believe.”

“Vault 99?”

Game Girl’s screen lights up with a question mark.

MN: “Yes, yes. They said something about creating a new hub of civilization.” his face glows, his voice dripping with sycophantic admiration. [thad]MN: You should see them work- they’re like a well oiled machine! So efficient, so organized! Truly the best of the business. Bringing order and strength to the wastelands.”

“They’re parasites” Dolly shoots back, her eyes narrowing. “And yer’ too dumb to see it.”

Maddeus gasps, clutching at his chest.

MN: “How rude! I was trying to help!”

Atara rolls her eyes,

“Help? Darling, you handed them the keys to the kingdom and watched them burn it to the ground.”

“Sounds like the same hypocritical garbage their leader Sebastian spews. Best in the business.” she spits on the ground “All it means is they’ll take what they want and leave the rest of us to clean up the mess.”

Game Girl places a hand on Dolly’s shoulder, her voice softening

“We can’t fix Haven, but we can stop them from doing this again.”

Dolly nods.

“Vault 99 it is.”

Erik steps forward, looming over Maddeus,

“If you ever see those snakes again, you tell them this: Vault 98 is coming for what’s ours.”

The group disappears into the wasteland, their silhouettes framed against the setting sun.

War never changes


Not even a mile outside of Haven, the crew ventures through the scorched and desolate wastelands. The terrain is littered with the remnants of settlements crushed under the reckless opportunism of the Tunnel Snakes. Burned-out husks of homes sit like tombstones for lives lost. Once-thriving villages have been picked clean, their ruins defiled by more Tunnel Snakes graffiti.

The crew walks in silence, the weight of the devastation around them pressing down like the sleepless sun overhead. Each of them wrestling with their own thoughts about the battle ahead, their interpretations as fractured as the world they’re trying to save.

Erik’s boots crunch against the brittle dirt. His gaze shifted over the ruins. He spits into the dust, his lip curling into a snarl.

[white] “They don’t deserve mercy” he growls, flexing his fists. “Look at this place. They didn’t just take what they needed… they wiped everything out! Burned it all down just to feed their egos.”

He picks up a charred wooden plank, its edges blackened and jagged. More Tunnel Snakes graffiti scrawled in soot across its surface. He tosses it to the side with disgust.

“This isn’t survival. It’s tyranny. The only way to end this is to break them, to smash them so hard they never get back up.”

Atara pauses, the old Symbol of Vault Tec, it’s Idealism… her hand brushes against the flinty husk of what was once a metal sign. She wipes away the grime to reveal a faded Vault-Tec branding. Her eyes widen, the blue of her gaze reflecting the ghost of what once was.

“This was an outreach station,” she murmurs ”I remember the posters, the recruitment drives…”

She takes a slow step back, her gaze sweeping over the ruins.

“These bastards tore down my legacy!”

“Fuck your legacy! They're dishonorable punks that need to learn a lesson.”

Atara looks to the earth and brushes dirt off a stained metal poster she picks it up; an old promotional Vault Tec poster from the dirt, that show’s Atty in the fashion of Rosie the Riveter

“...that’s me.”

Atara reminisces, her finger tracing over the image.

"I know things are bleak, but we need to have some hope... Maybe there's a reason for all this?"

“Wait.”

Dolly raises her hand to halt the others, while spotting something in the distance.

The rest follow as she crouches beside two lifeless forms lying in the dirt. Two corpses lay on the ground in blue and gold jumpsuits. Their bodies are battered and burned, their faces frozen in terror.

Dolly’s lips press into a thin line as she rises, turning back to the group,

“Hope?.”

she scoffs, her voice bitter and cynical,

“There’s no hope with people like this running the show. I’ve dealt with megalomaniacs like their leader Sebastian before. You think they care about humanity? About survival?”

She gestures toward the corpses, her voice rising.

“This is what they care about- power, recognition. And they’ll kill anyone who doesn’t bow down to them. You really think they’re going to listen to reason?”

She looks each of them in the eye before muttering under her breath.

“There’s no humanity in people like Sebastian and his snakes. You either worship the ground they walk upon, or yer’ not worthy to live.”

Game Girl kneels beside the bodies. Her screen flickers, the cheerful expressions glitching into something more somber. She gently reaches out, closing their lifeless eyes as if to grant them some final dignity.

“They deserved better.” GGl plants a hand on one of the corpse’s chests, her thumb gently stroking the faded 98 jumpsuit. “The vaults… They were meant to symbolize hope for the future, survival. To carry the torch of mankind forward into the unknown…”

She folds the arms of the corpse and looks deeply at the other with a head tilt. A moment of silence hangs in the air interrupted when Holland kicks a piece of rubble over the rocky earth.

“I don’t want more people to die.”

She stands as the others look at her.

“Are you kiddin’ me? You’ve seen what they’ve done!”

Erik storms over getting in GG’s face.

“Animals like them don’t deserve pity! They deserve to be put in the ground.”

GG’s face glitches, her eyes sharply looking at Erik and back to the bodies. Atara places a hand on her shoulder.

“They’re right, my dear. They need to see the consequences of their actions.”

A deep sigh exits GG as she pats Atara’s hand before looking at the group.

“They will! But if we kill them, then how are we any better? All of us agree what they do is wrong and primitive, so what separates us from them?”

There’s a beat of silence as Game Girl looks at each member.

“All I ask is that you allow me to talk to them first… After that, be what may.”

The group nods solemnly before turning back to the corpses.

“We need to be what the Tunnel Snakes are not.”

The scene fades to black and we come back to two graves at the site, our heroes moving on. The devastation around them is a haunting reminder of what’s at stake. Their silence is heavier now, each carrying the burden of their beliefs as the shadow of Vault 99 looms just ahead.

Vault-Tec Calling!


The crew stands before the imposing metal doors of Vault 99. A long cable linked between Game Girl’s head and the electronic mainframe of the door’s locking mechanism. The entrance is framed by crude scaffolding and towering floodlights.

A long series of binary code comes to an abrupt finish on Game Girl’s face before the words :OVERRIDE COMPLETE: flash. Her pixelated screen flickers back into an expression of solemn determination.

“This is it. Let’s show them what Vault 98 stands for.”

Dolly grunts, adjusting her revolver.

“Hope it’s more than a damn light show, GG. These snakes don’t care about nothin’ but themselves.”

The door grinds open, revealing a world that couldn’t be more different from the desolation outside. Vault 99 is a hedonistic paradise. Neon lights pulse along the steel corridors, leading to a cavernous atrium that’s been transformed into a grotesque caricature of prosperity. Piles of hoarded supplies tower like monuments to greed. Music blares, and scantily clad Vault residents- gaunt and malnourished- serve drinks to the Tunnel Snakes lounging on stolen furniture.

At the center, a throne of scavenged tech looms, occupied by the self-proclaimed “king” of Vault 99, and ruler of the Tunnel Snakes… Sebastian. Draped in his old leather jacket that’s been upgraded with gold plates, he exudes smug confidence, his arms spread wide as if welcoming old friends.

Sebastian: “Well, well! If it isn’t Vault 98’s finest. Come to marvel what true leadership looks like… Overseer?”

Before Game Girl can even react, Erik’s rage has taken center stage. His fists clenched, his entire body vibrating, just teetering away from restraint.

“True leadership?! This ain’t leadership… it’s a goddamn circus! You’re just a parasite sitting on a pile of stolen junk!”

Sebastian chuckles, gesturing grandly to the chaos around him.

Sebastian: “Oh, Erik, always so dramatic. This isn’t junk- it’s survival. Vault 99 was weak, just like Goodacre, just like Haven and every other one horse town I’ve been too. They needed someone strong enough to make the tough choices. And here I am, saving them, saving the world from itself.”

“Saving them, Dove?”

Atara steps forward, her voice cutting through the noise like a whip.

“You’ve turned this place into a nightmare. Vault-Tec wasn’t about hoarding power- it was about giving people hope. You’ve destroyed everything we stood for.”

Sebastian smirks, leaning back in his throne,

Sebastian: “Hope doesn’t keep you alive like some ghoul feasting off of her dying image. Power does. I’ve made the calls to ensure humanity’s survival. Something Vault-Tec clearly couldn’t do.”

“You don’t know the first thing about survival, Sebastian”

Dolly’s voice is low and biting as steps forward, pointing a finger at him.

“You talk about strength, but all you’ve done is take from people who couldn’t fight back. Yer’ not a leader… yer’ a scavenger with a messiah complex. And yer’ too blind to see it’ll all come crashing down”

Sebastian’s smirk falters, but Lucy, stead at his side, leaps to his defense.

Lucy: “The vaults failed because they were soft. They couldn’t adapt to the world as it is. We’re the future- strong, united, and unstoppable. If you can’t see that, maybe you’re just not cut out for this brave new world.”

Erik steps forward, towering over her,

“You mean a world where you bleed people dry and call it progress? You’re nothing but cowards hiding behind your stolen riches, and idiots like Maddeus Nuke who’ve aided your ascent. And I’m ready to make you pay.”

GG holds out a hand, stopping Erik before he can charge. Her voice is calm, but carries the weight of everything they’ve seen.

“This isn’t just about us, Erik. It’s about survival… survival for everyone. And that includes Vault 99.”

She turns her pixelated gaze to Sebastian, her screen flickering with a determined glow.

“You’re not breaking down walls, Sebastian. You’re building them higher, making sure only you stand on the top. But humanity can’t survive like this. We need unity, not division. I’m giving you a chance to start over, you and everyone here is welcome to Vault 98. We have defenses, plenty of food, water and room. All I need is a working reactor core.”

Sebastian scoffs looking at his cronies with a raucous laugh as the others join in.

Sebastian: “Is this a joke!? A trash compactor, Cunt Eastwood, a Z-lister and the world’s angriest coal miner come in here and try making demands!? Threats!? HA! And you think Vault 98 is safe? That you clowns can lead us?”

Dolly steps beside GG, her voice steady and cutting,

“It ain’t about leading. It’s about doing what’s right. And you wouldn’t know that if it hit you in the face.”

Atara joins them, her voice rising with conviction,

“You hate Vault-Tec, but without it, you’re nothing. You’ve built your empire on the backs of people you claim to despise. People you claim you’re better than. And when it falls apart - and it will- you’ll be left with nothing but your arrogance.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes and snaps his fingers. The tension explodes into a chaotic melee as the Tunnel Snakes’ guards converge. Erik charges, fists flying as he barrels into Sebastian’s guards. Atara uses her agility to disarm attackers, her movements a blend of grace and ferocity. Dolly’s revolver cracks, taking out targets with pinpoint accuracy. Game Girl stays at the center, directing the group while protecting the innocent residents caught in the crossfire.

The clash is brutal. A physical manifestation of the ideological war between selfish glory and collective survival. And just as it seems that Vault Tec’s victory is within reach… something changes. Game Girl spots the frightened faces of Vault 99’s residents, huddling together in the shadows. GG’s screen screws into a look of anger as she rushes a nearby terminal, removing the tip of one of her fingers exposing a cable and plugging into the terminal. A loud booming voice blasts through the PA.

“ENOUGH!”

Sentry guns drop from the ceiling, red lasers taking aim on each Tunnel Snake. The fighting stops suddenly as the snakes raise their hands. Game Girl takes a moment.

“There’s access tunnels leading from here back to Vault 98… I’ve just opened them.” She turns her head to Sebastian, a look of confusion on his face. “Fighting, bloodshed, carnage… It’s futile. The only way we can be better is if we evolve together, 98 and 99 joined.”

Game Girl snaps around, her cable falling from the terminal as the sentry guns retract.

“You all have a choice, you can stay here or you can join us. I won’t force your hand.”

Game Girl walks to a nearby door and forces it to open before looking back. Dolly holsters her revolver looking around the room before sniffing up and walking over, her spurs dancing with each step. Atara follows with a blow of a kiss to Sebastian who seethes watching them, then Erik who shakes his head throwing off the rage. Soon, residents join the party. Survivors from towns, men and women in Tunnel Snakes jackets pour away into the tunnels as Sebastian fumbles to his feet shouting after them.

Sebastian: “No-NO! You know how much I sacrificed to build this place!? You can’t just leave! It’s not supposed to work this way!”

As each person leaves, Game Girl hangs back holding her hand on the door frame, with a sincere smile she speaks.

“Enjoy your kingdom, Sebastian. Just remember… it’s hard to rule when people see the truth.”

The Vault Tec crew leaves Sebastian and the Tunnel Snakes behind. The graffiti on the walls seem less mocking now, a reminder of what they’ve lost… and what they’ve gained.

As the group lead their new residents back home Game Girl gives a smile to her comrades who smile back in turn. Dolly clasps a hand over GG’s shoulder as Atara gives a wink. Erik lets out a loud sigh.

“I figured out what I want in exchange for helping you out, overseer.”

“Oh… And what’s that?”

Holland sniffs up and spits out a missing tooth from the brawl.

“A fucking cold beer and a warm cot.”

“Oh that sounds so good right now!”

GG gives a laugh as Atara “oohs” in delight.

“And with all these new residents, you’re gonna have a great welcoming party for me!”

Game Girl smiles nodding her head as we pan through the masses of people following and slowly fade to black.



OOC: Wordcount: 4060




















































Also Sebastian got pink eye and died lol]]> <![CDATA[The Apocalypse]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48218 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 19:29:15 -0800 Cypher]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48218




THE END IS HERE

Words: 4000]]>




THE END IS HERE

Words: 4000]]> <![CDATA[The Circuitry of Us: Institutionalized]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48217 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 16:47:34 -0800 aurora]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48217



I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow, and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals

I'm breaking in, shaping up
Then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse


The Institute Proudly Presents:
The Circuitry of Us: Institutionalized]]>



I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow, and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals

I'm breaking in, shaping up
Then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse


The Institute Proudly Presents:
The Circuitry of Us: Institutionalized]]> <![CDATA[dead money.]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48215 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 13:16:16 -0800 bacchus]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48215



Has your life taken a turn? Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind? If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to Begin Again.
]]>



Has your life taken a turn? Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind? If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to Begin Again.
]]> <![CDATA[Vault 101 - Part Five - Tunnel Snakes Rule]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48216 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 12:10:24 -0800 Sebastian Everett-Bryce]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48216 [Image: mZWMF9Z.jpeg]]]> [Image: mZWMF9Z.jpeg]]]> <![CDATA[Revelations]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48214 Wed, 20 Nov 2024 01:35:19 -0800 Tatiana]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48214 And I looked and saw a white cloud, and seated on the cloud was One like the Son of Man, with a golden crown on His head and a sharp sickle in His hand. / Then another angel came out of the temple, crying out in a loud voice to the One seated on the cloud, “Swing Your sickle and reap, because the time has come to harvest, for the crop of the earth is ripe.” / So the One seated on the cloud swung His sickle over the earth, and the earth was harvested. …
Revelations 14: 14-20


- CLICK HERE -
]]> And I looked and saw a white cloud, and seated on the cloud was One like the Son of Man, with a golden crown on His head and a sharp sickle in His hand. / Then another angel came out of the temple, crying out in a loud voice to the One seated on the cloud, “Swing Your sickle and reap, because the time has come to harvest, for the crop of the earth is ripe.” / So the One seated on the cloud swung His sickle over the earth, and the earth was harvested. …
Revelations 14: 14-20


- CLICK HERE -
]]> <![CDATA[Dropping The Bomb]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48211 Sun, 17 Nov 2024 19:26:01 -0800 Prof. Bobby Bourbon]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48211

We see a shopping mall in the United States. While many of these monoliths of consumerism are dying across middle America, in the more affluent parts of the country they still thrive, and during mid-November, serve as a shrine to none other than Santa Claus.

It is here we see Bobby Bourbon along with his new companion of late, Teal. Bobby is dressed, head to toe, like a pirate while Teal's face is painted like a pumpkin. Both approach the center of the Mall where, as expected, a line is formed with children waiting to see Santa. The parents all shell out good money to get the photos of their tots with the man in the red suit. It is here Bobby makes his stand.

"Hey!" Bobby yells at Santa, who ignores him, focusing on the children. "You're not the real Santa, you're a phony! It's my job as a professional wrestler to call you out for all your foibles and then beat you up!"

"Is that how it works?" Teal looks at Bobby inquisitively. "I mean, yeah, it's what everybody in your line of work seems to do all the time in the XWF, but is that really what pro-wrestling is all about?"

"Huh." Bobby's eyes widen, his face softening, as though he's coming to a hard realization. "You know, you're right, coming to this mall to pester Santa is just another in a long line of crazy behaviors I engage in because of the business I'm in. Seb is lauded for being batshit insane with voices in his head, then, in turn, speaking ill of his opponent, and isn't that was everybody does?"

"Oh, no, we agreed." Teal cocks an eyebrow. "We're picking on Santa because it's a fun thing to do. It's not Christmas until it's Christmas and that fat weirdo giving crabs to children needs to be contained."

"Fair." Bobby's eyes widen again as he reaches into the interior pocket of his very fancy pirate coat. He pulls his phone out and puts it against his skull. "Hello?" Bobby nods. "Hey Peter." Bobby lowers his phone looking at Teal. "It's Peter Principle!" Bobby quickly puts the phone back against his head. "Sorry you were breaking up, could you repeat that?" Bobby asks politely, since Peter was talking while he was explaining to Teal the situation. "Oh, sure! What team?" Bobby blinks. "Caesar's Legion?" Bobby slow blinks. "Adeyemi's squad? Oh, okay!" Bobby grins. "Yep, see you there!" Bobby nods. "Oh, you're not going to Three Mile Island? Too radioactive? Alright Pete, take care!" Bobby disconnects the call.

"Good news?" Teal looks excited for Bobby as people start to notice the pirate and the Jill-o-Lantern having a discrete chat not far from Santa at a shopping mall.

"I'm going to War Games! I get to extend my streak for having the most eliminations in War Games history!" A woman approaches the duo.

"I love your get up, are you guys on TikTok?" Her genuine curiosity is well founded considering the Christmas decorations everywhere in the mall.

"No, we are not, and who are you? Do you think it's alright to just approach strangers in public?" Teal turns the energy around, not matching but absolutely heightening the scenario with attitude.

"I'm sorry, but with the outfits..." She begins before being cut off again.

"Yeah, well, you're dressed like a peasant, we're in awesome costumes, how do you like being judged for your clothes?" Bobby cocks an eyebrow.

"Geez, nevermind then!" The woman walks away, frustrated by the rude and ostentatious Bobby Bourbon. Bobby turns to Santa.

"You sit there and you judge, naughty or nice, but you know what, you imposter and part time slacker who doesn't work 10 other months of the year? At War Games, I will render final judgment on all my opponents!"

"You've gotten a lot farther than you should have, but then you haven't met Bobby Bourbon, either. Your ride's over, mutie. Time to die.”


So, let's just open up by being honest.

Adeyemi, Raven, and Nickles.

You won the fucking lottery on this one like you were in Nipton. Axel Shaw might have some talent, to be fair.

I am simply one spectacular talent, bar none, beyond fucking compare!

Now, Captain, oh my captain, you can ask Raven and Nickles about what it's like for me to carry them across a finish line. I've done it for them, until, well, they thought they could carry me and their spines broke under the weight of it all.

Yours can break too, in due time.

But let's look at our first round of victims.

There's Shawn Warstein, and he couldn't captain a gravy boat at whatever family get-together he gets himself uninvited to.

There's Dadbod, who's biggest claim to fame is ejaculating inside of a woman and having kids. I mean, well done, you've completed a biological imperative and all, and technically gushing inside someone's guts makes you, by default, cooler than an Incel, but I wouldn't call that an accomplishment! Hell, tell your kids to be excited, dude, three seconds in the ring with me can mean six months at home with them after plus a fun cast they can do art projects on in between your bouts of physical therapy!

Tommy Wish? Jesus, he is the ass pimple of the XWF. Always there, just serves as a target for where to kick more often than not.

Heh, then there's Miller. Bam fucking Miller. Now there's a man I've been waiting to see in the ring.

Actually that'd be Cyph3r, but he's not getting past his first round, no sirree.

Bam is a guy who could be great, could be amazing, could be legendary, if it weren't for the fact that being great, that amazing the fans, that lasting enough to become legend meant being good at your job.

Bam, my job is to show up in an arena and give the fans blood. I do that job well. Your job is to show up and bleed.

We're going to do great business in that ring.]]>

We see a shopping mall in the United States. While many of these monoliths of consumerism are dying across middle America, in the more affluent parts of the country they still thrive, and during mid-November, serve as a shrine to none other than Santa Claus.

It is here we see Bobby Bourbon along with his new companion of late, Teal. Bobby is dressed, head to toe, like a pirate while Teal's face is painted like a pumpkin. Both approach the center of the Mall where, as expected, a line is formed with children waiting to see Santa. The parents all shell out good money to get the photos of their tots with the man in the red suit. It is here Bobby makes his stand.

"Hey!" Bobby yells at Santa, who ignores him, focusing on the children. "You're not the real Santa, you're a phony! It's my job as a professional wrestler to call you out for all your foibles and then beat you up!"

"Is that how it works?" Teal looks at Bobby inquisitively. "I mean, yeah, it's what everybody in your line of work seems to do all the time in the XWF, but is that really what pro-wrestling is all about?"

"Huh." Bobby's eyes widen, his face softening, as though he's coming to a hard realization. "You know, you're right, coming to this mall to pester Santa is just another in a long line of crazy behaviors I engage in because of the business I'm in. Seb is lauded for being batshit insane with voices in his head, then, in turn, speaking ill of his opponent, and isn't that was everybody does?"

"Oh, no, we agreed." Teal cocks an eyebrow. "We're picking on Santa because it's a fun thing to do. It's not Christmas until it's Christmas and that fat weirdo giving crabs to children needs to be contained."

"Fair." Bobby's eyes widen again as he reaches into the interior pocket of his very fancy pirate coat. He pulls his phone out and puts it against his skull. "Hello?" Bobby nods. "Hey Peter." Bobby lowers his phone looking at Teal. "It's Peter Principle!" Bobby quickly puts the phone back against his head. "Sorry you were breaking up, could you repeat that?" Bobby asks politely, since Peter was talking while he was explaining to Teal the situation. "Oh, sure! What team?" Bobby blinks. "Caesar's Legion?" Bobby slow blinks. "Adeyemi's squad? Oh, okay!" Bobby grins. "Yep, see you there!" Bobby nods. "Oh, you're not going to Three Mile Island? Too radioactive? Alright Pete, take care!" Bobby disconnects the call.

"Good news?" Teal looks excited for Bobby as people start to notice the pirate and the Jill-o-Lantern having a discrete chat not far from Santa at a shopping mall.

"I'm going to War Games! I get to extend my streak for having the most eliminations in War Games history!" A woman approaches the duo.

"I love your get up, are you guys on TikTok?" Her genuine curiosity is well founded considering the Christmas decorations everywhere in the mall.

"No, we are not, and who are you? Do you think it's alright to just approach strangers in public?" Teal turns the energy around, not matching but absolutely heightening the scenario with attitude.

"I'm sorry, but with the outfits..." She begins before being cut off again.

"Yeah, well, you're dressed like a peasant, we're in awesome costumes, how do you like being judged for your clothes?" Bobby cocks an eyebrow.

"Geez, nevermind then!" The woman walks away, frustrated by the rude and ostentatious Bobby Bourbon. Bobby turns to Santa.

"You sit there and you judge, naughty or nice, but you know what, you imposter and part time slacker who doesn't work 10 other months of the year? At War Games, I will render final judgment on all my opponents!"

"You've gotten a lot farther than you should have, but then you haven't met Bobby Bourbon, either. Your ride's over, mutie. Time to die.”


So, let's just open up by being honest.

Adeyemi, Raven, and Nickles.

You won the fucking lottery on this one like you were in Nipton. Axel Shaw might have some talent, to be fair.

I am simply one spectacular talent, bar none, beyond fucking compare!

Now, Captain, oh my captain, you can ask Raven and Nickles about what it's like for me to carry them across a finish line. I've done it for them, until, well, they thought they could carry me and their spines broke under the weight of it all.

Yours can break too, in due time.

But let's look at our first round of victims.

There's Shawn Warstein, and he couldn't captain a gravy boat at whatever family get-together he gets himself uninvited to.

There's Dadbod, who's biggest claim to fame is ejaculating inside of a woman and having kids. I mean, well done, you've completed a biological imperative and all, and technically gushing inside someone's guts makes you, by default, cooler than an Incel, but I wouldn't call that an accomplishment! Hell, tell your kids to be excited, dude, three seconds in the ring with me can mean six months at home with them after plus a fun cast they can do art projects on in between your bouts of physical therapy!

Tommy Wish? Jesus, he is the ass pimple of the XWF. Always there, just serves as a target for where to kick more often than not.

Heh, then there's Miller. Bam fucking Miller. Now there's a man I've been waiting to see in the ring.

Actually that'd be Cyph3r, but he's not getting past his first round, no sirree.

Bam is a guy who could be great, could be amazing, could be legendary, if it weren't for the fact that being great, that amazing the fans, that lasting enough to become legend meant being good at your job.

Bam, my job is to show up in an arena and give the fans blood. I do that job well. Your job is to show up and bleed.

We're going to do great business in that ring.]]> <![CDATA[The Four Horsemen: Death. Wait... does this mean I have to die? I don't want to die!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48210 Sun, 17 Nov 2024 05:27:58 -0800 Roger]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48210 “Hello everybody my name is Roger, and I do not remember how long I have been underground. When China and America decided to blow each other to smithereens, I was unable to return to foggy London, where I used to lay my weary head at night. It was with great fortune that my half-brother, that bitch Joseph Godon-Levitt, opened the doors to his prototype vault turned lair for wicked schemes and badminton, and took me in. If he hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about what sort of Bam Miller creature I may have become.

But this fate may be worse. I no longer remember those grunts that my sweet, sweet Molly would make as she carried her eleven-month pregnant tummy up the front steps of our love palace. Alas! Time is now lost to me! All I am left with is memories of my past while I bat a shuttlecock to and fro with a master necromancer, Hollywood man of sex, and budding radiobiologist.

But even that has been harder lately. He has been so busy in his lab with his dark magic–”

“Roger!” a voice shouted at me. I glanced off-camera in its general direction. “Roger, come quick!” it screeched again. I almost threw up. No matter how long I had been down here with him, my brother’s voice still sounded to me like a million bats eating the kidneys of six adventurous donkeys.

Still… there was urgency in it.

“Be right there!” I called back, and then I switched the camera off.

My brother’s necro-laboratory had become my second-least favourite room in this would-be vault, only behind the room that was full of bees. But even with all of the wickedness that happens inside, I had to be brave. I thought of the Game Girl who was once known as the Game Boi before becoming the first ever game to transition to a different gender, no doubt inspiring other games to also do the same (looking at you, Mouse Trap!)

It inspired my legs to have a step through the doorway and into the lab.

My brother stood over a cauldron of some smaragdine-coloured concoction that no doubt would cause misery and woe to mankind. Next to him lay a naked ghoul stretched out on an operating table. I took a wee gander at the computer screen that hovered over top of it:

NAME:Madison
SPECIES:Ghoul
STATUS:As dead on the outside as she has been for years on the inside
HAIR COLOUR:Peroxide
STRENGTH:Always has time for twinks
WEAKNESS:Witty comebacks against adorable ginger English men
LANGUAGES SPOKEN:English, German, Cursing, the horrific screeching of feral ghouls, Ebonics
NOTES:A twisted abomination, even by ghoul standards, ‘Madison’ is a mysterious figure in the wasteland. In some respects, she resembles the feral ghoul: dwelling in darkness for long periods of time until suddenly awakening with a terrifying screech and insatiable bloodlust. Also, really easy to kill. Like… actually. She died. Super easy, barely an inconvenience. On the other hand, Madison appears to be able to talk like a regular human, even if everybody wishes she wouldn’t. The truth is, there is nobody else quite like her. If anybody else’s level of radiation could give their very personality cancer like Madison has, they would kill themselves the moment that they looked in the mirror. Madison, however, has broken every mirror she has ever looked in. And so the degenerate continues to waft along through existence until the next sexy twink comes along to kill her again.

“Wait until you get a load of this,” that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt said. He dipped a flask into his cauldron and then hovered it over the corpse of the ghoul.

“What are you up to, you toe fungus of a human?”

He didn’t have time to answer. We both heard a sound that sounded like a smash.

SMAAAAAAASH!

Yes! That was the sound that we heard!

“What was that?” I asked.

That bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt didn’t have time to answer!

SMAAAAAAASH!

A super mutant just smashed my evil half-brother’s head in!

How the heck did that thing get in here?

There was no time to ponder the question, and I had left my warhammer in my other pants. Without it, and without that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt to shoot a necrosex-powered plasma bolt into the mutant’s face, I had no way to fight back. I had to flee!

I dove forward into the best roly poly that anyone had ever rolled or polled, and got out of the super mutant’s range! I pumped my fist in the air in celebration, but I might have forgotten for a little bit that super mutants could turn around and that’s exactly what this one did. So I ran.

I didn’t run fast enough.

The super mutant busted through all the walls and whatnot and was really quite rude about the whole thing. Just as I reached the vault door and tried to escape, the foul creature decided to have a wee grab at little old me by my little old neck.

Even wriggling my neck back and forth like I did to escape from my new pal Jake Borden (whose name isn’t apparent Jake Boden after all), wasn’t enough to shake the mutant’s grip!

Oh no!

I’m going to die!

SMAAASH!

The mutant let me go and I fell to the ground.

SMAAASH!

SMAAASH!

SMAAASH!

Those were different smashes! Non-mutant smashes!

I had a wee peek through my hands and saw a mysterious man bludgeoning the mutant to death with the hubcap of a Daihatsu Charade.

When the mutant was finally dead, the large, mysterious man came and offered me a hand up.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice sounded like a gentle stream falling off the edge of a cliff and passing through clouds before it landed in a really deep lake. “I’ve been tracking Ozzy there for a while, hope he didn’t get too many shots in on you.”

“Ozzy…?

The beautiful, mysterious man tinkered with a device on his wrist. A hologram burst open, showing an image of the mutant that had just been destroyed.

NAME:Ozzy
SPECIES:Super mutant
STATUS:Making up the numbers
PREVIOUS AFFILIATIONS:Anyone who pretended he mattered
STRENGTH:Strength
WEAKNESS:Relevance
FAVOURITE MOVIE:Ghostbusters (2016)
NOTES:A super mutant who pretends to be a human, but is bad at it. And is bad at pretending in general, really. He kind of forgets that in order to fool people, there needs to be some believability behind what you’re selling. Unfortunately for ‘Ozzy’ - as he is affectionately known, he might very well be the dumbest super mutant in existence. Honestly, at this stage, it seems like instead of annihilating Ozzy with absolute ease like absolutely everybody could, people are content to keep him around for the lulz. He may be a super mutant, but in terms of his threat to any passersby, he is more of a sideshow curiosity.

“Whoa!” I said, marvelling at the device. “This is like the post-apocalyptic technology that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt had. But on your wrist! Where did you get it?”

This rugged, mysterious man regarded me with a sensitivity I hadn’t experienced since skipping stones on the river Thames with my darling rabbit Elmer so many moons ago. “You can have it, if you want. I’ve got plenty back at base.”

My eyes widened as he detached the device from his own wrist and strapped it to mine. It felt so comfortable and cosy - exactly how I thought giving this man a cuddle (which I promptly did, I should add) would feel like.

“My name’s Barney,” the generous, mysterious man said. “Barney Green.”

“Roger,” I said, and we shook hands. “So how does this thing work?”

“Oh, it can do all sorts of cool things. This icon here shows you your stats…”

He pressed on the screen of the device. A new holographic image appeared:

NAME:Roger
STRENGTH:1
PERCEPTION:1
ENDURANCE:1
CHARISMA:1
INTELLIGENCE:1
AGILITY:1
LUCK:9

“You already saw how it can show you information about enemies in the world…”

A menu sprung up with a list of names in alphabetical order. I skipped past Adam Garcia and Atara Raven, and pressed the next name on the list.

NAME:Aurora
SPECIES:Human
STATUS:Going through some things
WHICH ‘SEX IN THE CITY’ CHARACTER ARE YOU?Thinks they're Samantha, but really they're Charlotte
STRENGTH:Likes pineapple on pizza
WEAKNESS:Fire, Fighting, Rock, Steel
SCENT:Coconut and shea butter
NOTES:Who is she? What is she? These are the questions Aurora seeks answers to! Luckily, it’s really not that hard. She’s a human, and her name is Aurora. Boom! Done! Move on already, girlfriend! But that’s the thing. She can’t move on. From anything! She’s like a stroppy teenager who just broke up with their boyfriend of three weeks: ‘I’ll show everyone that I’m great just the way I am! I don’t need Chad!’ But she doesn’t believe it. Aurora knows the answers to every question she’s ever tried to ask about herself, she just doesn’t want to accept the truth: she will forever be defined by others, not by herself. She’s less a ‘mystery wrapped in an enigma’, and more a ‘scared little girl wrapped in the constant shadow that Lucy Wylde casts over her’. And also wrapped in a partially metal skull. That seems like cheating, TBH, and cheaters are buttholes. But not the good kind of buttholes. So… yeah. Aurora is a butthole. But if that butthole has to answer a question, can it be ‘what exactly is shea butter?’ and ‘am I allergic to that?, because I don’t do well with dairy.

My eyes were wide with astonishment. I didn’t know that humanity had gotten even worse than Charlie Nickles!

Barney simply grunted and pressed another button. “You can also see your inventory…”

1x Leopard Print Bandana

“And there’s even a map!”

With another press, a green grid floated into the air from the device. “What’s that square over there?” I pointed to a mark on the map that seemed to stand out amongst the rest.

“That’s where I’m going to meet some friends,” he replied. “You should come.”

And so off we set - out into the wasteland together!

Every night upon our journey, the eloquent Barney would regale me with tales of his life, and I would lay my head into his lap and drift off to lovely dreams of my sweet and succulent Molly back in foggy London who must by now be twenty-something weeks pregnant with my child.

But then, one night, disaster struck.

A deathly screech punctured my ear holes, worse than any sound that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt had ever made, even in the depths of his sluttiest necro-orgies.

A scary monster burst through the treeline and came straight towards me.

It slashed viciously at me with its untrimmed fingernails, and I made a noise that was somewhere between the sound of a dog's chew toy squeaking and my diabetic uncle Mick stepping on a piece of Lego at 3:14am after coming home late from the pub.

I also moved my head out of the way just in time to not be murdered.

“I’ll protect you!” the valiant Barney shouted as he leapt to his feet.

It was hard to keep track of the fight that followed. Everything moved so quickly like it was a Michael Bay movie crossed with a video game crossed with the massive nosedive Enigma’s XWF career has been post-Madness. I could tell that the gallant Barney was doing well to fight back, but ultimately, I knew his energy was running low.

He turned to me, with a Rorschach test of blood stained across his face that looked exactly like my nan knitting me a cardigan when I was a wee Roger. “My pack!” he shouted. “Get me a drink from my pack!”

He needed health! Eek!

I tore his backpack open. “There’s no Nuka Cola in here!”

“I don’t want Nuka Cola! Give me the can that you see!”

Sure enough, there was a white can amongst his knickers and shurikens. I threw it through the air and even the monster’s mouth gaped open with how awesome Barney’s catch was.

My hero stared the critter in the eye and said “Deathclaw… meet White Claw.” He guzzled the White Claw in one gulp and it gave him the power to keep fighting the Deathclaw!

The fight raged for seven more hours and sixty four minutes!

It gave me lots of time to have a read of all things Deathclaw-related:

NAME:Deathclaw
SPECIES:Deathclaw
STATUS:Much more worth reading about than Matthias Syn
PARENTS:Alpha Deathclaw and Mother Deathclaw
STRENGTH:Not Matthias Syn
WEAKNESS:Garbage men drunk on White Claw, apparently
CHRISTMAS PLANS:Visiting parents because they still love each other very much, unlike Matthias Syn
NOTES:If you had the choice to be a Deathclaw or to be Matthias Syn, definitely choose the Deathclaw. Deathclaws are loyal creatures who work together to better the herd; Matthias Syn tries to work with others only if it benefits himself. The most powerful Deathclaws lead the pack; Matthias Syn isn’t even the best on his own team. Deathclaws have sharp claws; Matthias Syn has to tape things to his fingers like Edward Scissorhands to have claws. When Deathclaws eat the human body, they eat all of it; Matthias Syn doesn’t even eat ass. There are recorded instances of sentient, intelligent Deathclaws; Despite his attestations, there is no evidence of Matthias Syn being any more intelligent than a cucumber - and did we mention the Deathclaw’s claws are super useful for cutting up cucumbers? Deathclaw > Matthias Syn, every day of the week.

When I looked up from my studies, I saw that both Barney and the Deathclaw had fallen to their knees. They traded one final karate chop on each other.

The Deathclaw exploded into goo.

Barney began vomiting up hot dogs and seltzer.

“The watch…” he sputtered. “Follow it… The apocalypse… find the monument… death!!!”

“Yes, sweet prince.” I said to him as he closed his eyes for another classic Barney Green snooze. “I shall follow where your post-apocalyptic watch is taking me! I shall do something with or about the apocalypse! I shall make a monument to your death! I shall never forget you!”

And so I never did forget the hero Barney Green.

When I reached the location on the map that he had sent me, I saw a big monument that had already been created to memorialise the wasteland’s mightiest saviour.

It spoke to me.

“DEATH,” it said, just like Barney had! And as I saw the others approaching the monument too, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be: with Barney’s buds.

Thank you for listening to my tale.]]> “Hello everybody my name is Roger, and I do not remember how long I have been underground. When China and America decided to blow each other to smithereens, I was unable to return to foggy London, where I used to lay my weary head at night. It was with great fortune that my half-brother, that bitch Joseph Godon-Levitt, opened the doors to his prototype vault turned lair for wicked schemes and badminton, and took me in. If he hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about what sort of Bam Miller creature I may have become.

But this fate may be worse. I no longer remember those grunts that my sweet, sweet Molly would make as she carried her eleven-month pregnant tummy up the front steps of our love palace. Alas! Time is now lost to me! All I am left with is memories of my past while I bat a shuttlecock to and fro with a master necromancer, Hollywood man of sex, and budding radiobiologist.

But even that has been harder lately. He has been so busy in his lab with his dark magic–”

“Roger!” a voice shouted at me. I glanced off-camera in its general direction. “Roger, come quick!” it screeched again. I almost threw up. No matter how long I had been down here with him, my brother’s voice still sounded to me like a million bats eating the kidneys of six adventurous donkeys.

Still… there was urgency in it.

“Be right there!” I called back, and then I switched the camera off.

My brother’s necro-laboratory had become my second-least favourite room in this would-be vault, only behind the room that was full of bees. But even with all of the wickedness that happens inside, I had to be brave. I thought of the Game Girl who was once known as the Game Boi before becoming the first ever game to transition to a different gender, no doubt inspiring other games to also do the same (looking at you, Mouse Trap!)

It inspired my legs to have a step through the doorway and into the lab.

My brother stood over a cauldron of some smaragdine-coloured concoction that no doubt would cause misery and woe to mankind. Next to him lay a naked ghoul stretched out on an operating table. I took a wee gander at the computer screen that hovered over top of it:

NAME:Madison
SPECIES:Ghoul
STATUS:As dead on the outside as she has been for years on the inside
HAIR COLOUR:Peroxide
STRENGTH:Always has time for twinks
WEAKNESS:Witty comebacks against adorable ginger English men
LANGUAGES SPOKEN:English, German, Cursing, the horrific screeching of feral ghouls, Ebonics
NOTES:A twisted abomination, even by ghoul standards, ‘Madison’ is a mysterious figure in the wasteland. In some respects, she resembles the feral ghoul: dwelling in darkness for long periods of time until suddenly awakening with a terrifying screech and insatiable bloodlust. Also, really easy to kill. Like… actually. She died. Super easy, barely an inconvenience. On the other hand, Madison appears to be able to talk like a regular human, even if everybody wishes she wouldn’t. The truth is, there is nobody else quite like her. If anybody else’s level of radiation could give their very personality cancer like Madison has, they would kill themselves the moment that they looked in the mirror. Madison, however, has broken every mirror she has ever looked in. And so the degenerate continues to waft along through existence until the next sexy twink comes along to kill her again.

“Wait until you get a load of this,” that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt said. He dipped a flask into his cauldron and then hovered it over the corpse of the ghoul.

“What are you up to, you toe fungus of a human?”

He didn’t have time to answer. We both heard a sound that sounded like a smash.

SMAAAAAAASH!

Yes! That was the sound that we heard!

“What was that?” I asked.

That bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt didn’t have time to answer!

SMAAAAAAASH!

A super mutant just smashed my evil half-brother’s head in!

How the heck did that thing get in here?

There was no time to ponder the question, and I had left my warhammer in my other pants. Without it, and without that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt to shoot a necrosex-powered plasma bolt into the mutant’s face, I had no way to fight back. I had to flee!

I dove forward into the best roly poly that anyone had ever rolled or polled, and got out of the super mutant’s range! I pumped my fist in the air in celebration, but I might have forgotten for a little bit that super mutants could turn around and that’s exactly what this one did. So I ran.

I didn’t run fast enough.

The super mutant busted through all the walls and whatnot and was really quite rude about the whole thing. Just as I reached the vault door and tried to escape, the foul creature decided to have a wee grab at little old me by my little old neck.

Even wriggling my neck back and forth like I did to escape from my new pal Jake Borden (whose name isn’t apparent Jake Boden after all), wasn’t enough to shake the mutant’s grip!

Oh no!

I’m going to die!

SMAAASH!

The mutant let me go and I fell to the ground.

SMAAASH!

SMAAASH!

SMAAASH!

Those were different smashes! Non-mutant smashes!

I had a wee peek through my hands and saw a mysterious man bludgeoning the mutant to death with the hubcap of a Daihatsu Charade.

When the mutant was finally dead, the large, mysterious man came and offered me a hand up.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice sounded like a gentle stream falling off the edge of a cliff and passing through clouds before it landed in a really deep lake. “I’ve been tracking Ozzy there for a while, hope he didn’t get too many shots in on you.”

“Ozzy…?

The beautiful, mysterious man tinkered with a device on his wrist. A hologram burst open, showing an image of the mutant that had just been destroyed.

NAME:Ozzy
SPECIES:Super mutant
STATUS:Making up the numbers
PREVIOUS AFFILIATIONS:Anyone who pretended he mattered
STRENGTH:Strength
WEAKNESS:Relevance
FAVOURITE MOVIE:Ghostbusters (2016)
NOTES:A super mutant who pretends to be a human, but is bad at it. And is bad at pretending in general, really. He kind of forgets that in order to fool people, there needs to be some believability behind what you’re selling. Unfortunately for ‘Ozzy’ - as he is affectionately known, he might very well be the dumbest super mutant in existence. Honestly, at this stage, it seems like instead of annihilating Ozzy with absolute ease like absolutely everybody could, people are content to keep him around for the lulz. He may be a super mutant, but in terms of his threat to any passersby, he is more of a sideshow curiosity.

“Whoa!” I said, marvelling at the device. “This is like the post-apocalyptic technology that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt had. But on your wrist! Where did you get it?”

This rugged, mysterious man regarded me with a sensitivity I hadn’t experienced since skipping stones on the river Thames with my darling rabbit Elmer so many moons ago. “You can have it, if you want. I’ve got plenty back at base.”

My eyes widened as he detached the device from his own wrist and strapped it to mine. It felt so comfortable and cosy - exactly how I thought giving this man a cuddle (which I promptly did, I should add) would feel like.

“My name’s Barney,” the generous, mysterious man said. “Barney Green.”

“Roger,” I said, and we shook hands. “So how does this thing work?”

“Oh, it can do all sorts of cool things. This icon here shows you your stats…”

He pressed on the screen of the device. A new holographic image appeared:

NAME:Roger
STRENGTH:1
PERCEPTION:1
ENDURANCE:1
CHARISMA:1
INTELLIGENCE:1
AGILITY:1
LUCK:9

“You already saw how it can show you information about enemies in the world…”

A menu sprung up with a list of names in alphabetical order. I skipped past Adam Garcia and Atara Raven, and pressed the next name on the list.

NAME:Aurora
SPECIES:Human
STATUS:Going through some things
WHICH ‘SEX IN THE CITY’ CHARACTER ARE YOU?Thinks they're Samantha, but really they're Charlotte
STRENGTH:Likes pineapple on pizza
WEAKNESS:Fire, Fighting, Rock, Steel
SCENT:Coconut and shea butter
NOTES:Who is she? What is she? These are the questions Aurora seeks answers to! Luckily, it’s really not that hard. She’s a human, and her name is Aurora. Boom! Done! Move on already, girlfriend! But that’s the thing. She can’t move on. From anything! She’s like a stroppy teenager who just broke up with their boyfriend of three weeks: ‘I’ll show everyone that I’m great just the way I am! I don’t need Chad!’ But she doesn’t believe it. Aurora knows the answers to every question she’s ever tried to ask about herself, she just doesn’t want to accept the truth: she will forever be defined by others, not by herself. She’s less a ‘mystery wrapped in an enigma’, and more a ‘scared little girl wrapped in the constant shadow that Lucy Wylde casts over her’. And also wrapped in a partially metal skull. That seems like cheating, TBH, and cheaters are buttholes. But not the good kind of buttholes. So… yeah. Aurora is a butthole. But if that butthole has to answer a question, can it be ‘what exactly is shea butter?’ and ‘am I allergic to that?, because I don’t do well with dairy.

My eyes were wide with astonishment. I didn’t know that humanity had gotten even worse than Charlie Nickles!

Barney simply grunted and pressed another button. “You can also see your inventory…”

1x Leopard Print Bandana

“And there’s even a map!”

With another press, a green grid floated into the air from the device. “What’s that square over there?” I pointed to a mark on the map that seemed to stand out amongst the rest.

“That’s where I’m going to meet some friends,” he replied. “You should come.”

And so off we set - out into the wasteland together!

Every night upon our journey, the eloquent Barney would regale me with tales of his life, and I would lay my head into his lap and drift off to lovely dreams of my sweet and succulent Molly back in foggy London who must by now be twenty-something weeks pregnant with my child.

But then, one night, disaster struck.

A deathly screech punctured my ear holes, worse than any sound that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt had ever made, even in the depths of his sluttiest necro-orgies.

A scary monster burst through the treeline and came straight towards me.

It slashed viciously at me with its untrimmed fingernails, and I made a noise that was somewhere between the sound of a dog's chew toy squeaking and my diabetic uncle Mick stepping on a piece of Lego at 3:14am after coming home late from the pub.

I also moved my head out of the way just in time to not be murdered.

“I’ll protect you!” the valiant Barney shouted as he leapt to his feet.

It was hard to keep track of the fight that followed. Everything moved so quickly like it was a Michael Bay movie crossed with a video game crossed with the massive nosedive Enigma’s XWF career has been post-Madness. I could tell that the gallant Barney was doing well to fight back, but ultimately, I knew his energy was running low.

He turned to me, with a Rorschach test of blood stained across his face that looked exactly like my nan knitting me a cardigan when I was a wee Roger. “My pack!” he shouted. “Get me a drink from my pack!”

He needed health! Eek!

I tore his backpack open. “There’s no Nuka Cola in here!”

“I don’t want Nuka Cola! Give me the can that you see!”

Sure enough, there was a white can amongst his knickers and shurikens. I threw it through the air and even the monster’s mouth gaped open with how awesome Barney’s catch was.

My hero stared the critter in the eye and said “Deathclaw… meet White Claw.” He guzzled the White Claw in one gulp and it gave him the power to keep fighting the Deathclaw!

The fight raged for seven more hours and sixty four minutes!

It gave me lots of time to have a read of all things Deathclaw-related:

NAME:Deathclaw
SPECIES:Deathclaw
STATUS:Much more worth reading about than Matthias Syn
PARENTS:Alpha Deathclaw and Mother Deathclaw
STRENGTH:Not Matthias Syn
WEAKNESS:Garbage men drunk on White Claw, apparently
CHRISTMAS PLANS:Visiting parents because they still love each other very much, unlike Matthias Syn
NOTES:If you had the choice to be a Deathclaw or to be Matthias Syn, definitely choose the Deathclaw. Deathclaws are loyal creatures who work together to better the herd; Matthias Syn tries to work with others only if it benefits himself. The most powerful Deathclaws lead the pack; Matthias Syn isn’t even the best on his own team. Deathclaws have sharp claws; Matthias Syn has to tape things to his fingers like Edward Scissorhands to have claws. When Deathclaws eat the human body, they eat all of it; Matthias Syn doesn’t even eat ass. There are recorded instances of sentient, intelligent Deathclaws; Despite his attestations, there is no evidence of Matthias Syn being any more intelligent than a cucumber - and did we mention the Deathclaw’s claws are super useful for cutting up cucumbers? Deathclaw > Matthias Syn, every day of the week.

When I looked up from my studies, I saw that both Barney and the Deathclaw had fallen to their knees. They traded one final karate chop on each other.

The Deathclaw exploded into goo.

Barney began vomiting up hot dogs and seltzer.

“The watch…” he sputtered. “Follow it… The apocalypse… find the monument… death!!!”

“Yes, sweet prince.” I said to him as he closed his eyes for another classic Barney Green snooze. “I shall follow where your post-apocalyptic watch is taking me! I shall do something with or about the apocalypse! I shall make a monument to your death! I shall never forget you!”

And so I never did forget the hero Barney Green.

When I reached the location on the map that he had sent me, I saw a big monument that had already been created to memorialise the wasteland’s mightiest saviour.

It spoke to me.

“DEATH,” it said, just like Barney had! And as I saw the others approaching the monument too, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be: with Barney’s buds.

Thank you for listening to my tale.]]> <![CDATA[Dadbod's RP]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48205 Thu, 14 Nov 2024 08:41:32 -0800 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48205 https://docs.google.com/document/d/13Db_...p=drivesdk

Dadbod's account had some issues and wouldn't allow him to post.  He turned it in via DM.]]> https://docs.google.com/document/d/13Db_...p=drivesdk

Dadbod's account had some issues and wouldn't allow him to post.  He turned it in via DM.]]> <![CDATA[A Tale of Four Kings II: War Never Changes]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48203 Thu, 14 Nov 2024 00:04:46 -0800 Isaiah King]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48203 War never changes 
Posting on behalf of James Raven, unable to post on his main.]]> War never changes 
Posting on behalf of James Raven, unable to post on his main.]]> <![CDATA[A Tale of Four Kings III: Silent Fallout]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48202 Wed, 13 Nov 2024 23:58:47 -0800 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48202
“Let me get this straight, Jack-” Biden said, his aged voice barely capable of more than a whisper. “You launched the nukes?”

The XWF legend nodded with a chilling calm. “Every last one.”

Harris gasped, her hands clenching the desk. “Do you understand what you’ve done Centurion? You’ve just condemned the world to destruction!”

Centurion’s steely gaze was unwavering. “I know exactly what I’ve done. Trump’s second term wasn’t just a threat—it was the promise of endless suffering. There was no coming back from it.”

Biden’s shoulders sagged, disbelief etched in his face. “But I wanted to watch Saturday Night Savage! Charlie Nickles was going to defend his ‘TV’ Championship!”

“You’re losing your mind, Joe. It’s all over. The XWF, our government, society: all of it. Trump was just a symptom. Financial elites now control all aspects of our society. Just look at what’s happened to the XWF!

An incredibly wealthy oligarch now runs the XWF, and he’s driven out all the “old guard”! He’s put his cronies in positions of power, even though everyone can plainly see they aren’t legitimate champions! He’s even brought in big names from Twitter to headline his shows, his “rallies” if you will: is this sounding familiar? People are silenced for dissent, free speech doesn't exist, the XWF has become a rich man’s playground. The corruption is rampant and unchecked.

And now, what happened to the XWF is going to happen to our entire country. I couldn’t let it happen. So I’ve given us a different ending—an ending no one can corrupt or twist.”

Harris’s voice trembled, “And what of the innocent people, Centurion? Those precious souls like Dadbod and Atara Raven, who could never hurt a fly?!”

“I knew there’d be sacrifices. But there was no saving this world. This was mercy, on a scale I hope you never have to understand.”

In the stillness that followed, a faint, ominous tremor pulsed through the room. Beyond the walls, an unnatural brightness crept up the sky, spreading its deadly light faster than sound could follow. The world was ending in a hushed, lethal glow—a final chapter written in silence, as if even destruction itself had surrendered to the quiet. The world was already ending, a final chapter written in fire, Centurion’s last stand against a future that he could not bear to let live.

This was his FINAL FANTASY!


[Image: apocalyptic-blast-massive-nuclear-bomb-e....jpg?w=826]



Meanwhile...



Charlie awoke with a massive pain atop his shoulders. It felt as if the weight of the world had fallen onto his chest, but as Charlie opened his eyes he realized it was just a refrigerator pinning him to the ground! The Nickleman lurched to his feet, pushing the refrigerator to the side as he came to a stunning realization: those sicks cunts had stolen another victory from him!

The Nickleman kicked a dent into the side of the refrigerator before looking around the abandoned kitchen. The room was a grim mess of overturned pots and shattered glass. The floor was slicked with blood, hinting of the violence that had erupted. As Charlie glanced down he saw the corpse of the referee from his match with Dyson. The poor soul’s legs had been gnawed completely off.

“Serves him right. Should’ve had the decency to die before you counted to three!”

Charlie spat a fat loogie onto the referee’s corpse before stepping on its maggot-infested head. The weight of Charlie’s leg magically transformed it into a pile of cranial mush. Charlie then pushed through a creaking door into the dining room, seeing that it was the same unsettling space as before. The restaurant was still shrouded in dim light that barely illuminated the worn-down tables. The chairs were all out of place, completely strewn about the room as if a fight had broken out- except for one chair. Seated in the corner of the room was a figure hunched over a table—a ghoul with sunken, ashen eyes, its mottled, decaying skin stretched tightly over skeletal features, deep wrinkles etched around its hollow stare.

“Do you want to play a game?”

The ghoul directed its empty gaze towards Charlie.

“Talking to me, fuckface McGee?”

“Come, take a seat- I mean no harm.”

The ghoul gestured across the table, and suddenly a chair flew across the room and positioned itself at the table. As The Nickleman approached the table, he noticed a cracked glass chessboard with polished marble pieces atop it. As Charlie plopped down across from the ghoul, he noticed that all the pieces on the board bore striking resemblance to his so-called “peers” in the XWF.

“Now where did you get these?”

“I made them. I thought they would help us pass the time as the bombs drop.”

The Nickleman raised an inquisitive eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, his gaze was fixated upon the chess board. The pieces were arranged as if they were mid-game, with only a handful of pieces even left on the board. The black marble pieces on Charlie’s side of the table were clearly members of THE UNDERGROUND: Dadbod, Bam, and Wishbone all had their own miniature carvings. There was another black figurine dressed in a chicken costume. The chicken noticeably larger than his compatriots- he must fashion himself their king. On the other side of the board, the white pieces were arranged around their Queen: a Thaddeus Duke figurine. Game Girl, Dolly Waters, Cypher, and Madison Dyson all had their own white marble miniatures.

“I ask again: did you wish to play a game?”

“Why not? Get the rest of the pieces on the board and let’s start this baby up!”

“If only the world were so fair, brother Charles. Men like you and I? We don’t get to join the world at the start: we join the game of life at the end, when all hope is already lost. Only then is it your turn to play.”

“My turn? With only these dogshit Underground pieces? Fuck.”

Charlie closely examined his pieces, then moved his Tommy Wish directly into the path of danger.

“Why don’t you just take this piece of shit off my hands? Sacrificial lamb is the only play you can make with ‘Make-A-Wish’ on your team!”

“So much disdain for one utterly inconsequential man."

The ghoul used his Cypher piece to remove Tommy's figurine. As the pair play their pieces back and forth, Charlie's skin begins slowly transforming- aging, molting even.

“Inconsequential, huh? That freak cost my daughter her XWF Anarchy championship! I remember it like it was just yesterday, Fire and Ice all those years ago…I wasn’t there to protect her then, when he was taking advantage of her: but I’ll be there at War Games to seek her vengeance all these years later. Tommyboy is a fucking laughingstock who’s only kept around so the other losers who join this federation can feel better about themselves, because at least they’re not as bad as Tommy. Tommyboy is going to fucking Wish that he never signed up for War Games, because I’m going to show everyone just how spineless this self-proclaimed ‘Thug’ really is when I strip the flesh from his hide LIVE ON ANARCHY, just after his match against DA BING BONG TWINZZ! Because now that I’ve started thinking about it, I can’t wait until War Games to get my hands on that sorry sack of shit! I’m going to go to Anarchy to get a headstart on my homework against The UnderGround!

That useless moron can have all the forewarning in the world and he still won’t be able to stop me. He is now what he always has been and always will be: a sacrificial lamb. And by the time War Games rolls around, that little lamb will already be bleating out for his mummy.”

Charlie grabbed his Bam Miller piece and used it to knock the Cypher piece off the board. As they continue playing, Charlie's body continually degrades. His eyes sink slowly into his skull. His skin shrivels as it tightens around his decomposing corpse.

“Get your little Cypher off this board, I don’t want to see that sick fuck in my game!”

"You don’t like Cypher either?"

“Don’t like? Who the fuck likes childnappers? Cypher is scum off this earth, the walking embodiment of debauchery and villainy: and it seems like these days I’m the only one who can even see it. Or maybe, I’m just the only one with the balls to say it! Cypher is a sick and twisted fuck. We all know what people kidnap children for. And Thaddeus Duke is a suck and twisted fuck for letting that child snatcher hang around the XWF.

But putting that all child kidnapping to the side for literally one moment, because that’s where all these pussies collectively agree to put it for him- even then, Cypher is nothing more than a broken-down shell of himself.

You know how I know that? Because I’m the one that broke him.

When Thaddeus Duke realized that Cypher played a part in the snatching of his child, he called The Nickleman in to handle business. And that’s exactly what I did. One Devil Hook Drop to the brain and Cypher was never seen in OCW again. That’s the power I have when I match up against that sniveling bitch. And if we match up again in the War Games finals, big if- then I'll be ready to Devil Hook Drop his ass back to irrelevancy one more time.”

As the pair exchange moves, Charlie seems completely unaware of his ongoing transformation. The Ghoul eventually uses his Dolly Waters piece to take the Bam Miller piece off the board.

“And there goes my Bam Miller! Ah you cheeky bastard, I thought we all collectively agreed to just pretend Bam Miller doesn’t exist? I mean seriously, when the fuck do you ever hear anyone talk about Bam Miller? “Miller Time” was only ever going to last for 15 seconds- and his time’s long been up. It’s almost embarrassing, the way shriveled up failures try to crawl back into the ring everytime War Games comes around as if it’s going to restart their dead careers. And some might say this is one of those ‘pot calling the Kettle black’ scenarios, but I’ve never heard Bam Miller say anything that insightful or interesting before- and top dollar says he’s not going to start now.”

Charlie and the ghoul continue to play, until Charlie was able to use the Dadbod piece to sweep the Dolly Waters piece off the board. Charlie didn't even notice how shriveled and green his hand had become.

“Dadbod always does the trick! And by that I mean, that man is practically a dog the way he follows commands and obeys his superiors. He’s bitch-made, suffice to say. I saw it firsthand in TRIAD. They told him they wanted their Strength trials to be sanitized, clean, and family-friendly. They said jump, and Dadbod just asked how high. I took a different route, and the sheep in this industry treat me like an outcast for it.

Good.

I’d rather be an outcast than an obedient little bitch. Warstein is going to tell Dadbod that he needs his Warcock polished before the show, and Dadbod is only going to ask one question: how deep?”

The ghoul immediately uses the Dyson piece to knock off the Dadbod miniature.

“Ohhh Maddy-fucking-Dykson. What a pampered bitch. I suppose Atticus Gold didn’t even bother to correct her blatant lies when he gave her the winner’s bonus after our match.”

Charlie picks up his final piece, a black marble figurine etched in the form of a man in a chicken costume. Before he plays the piece he brings it up to his sunken, ashen eyes so he can observe it more closely.

“Shawn Warstein, the last man standing…a fate etched into the pieces themselves.”

“Then The Underground is well and truly fucked, because when Shawn’s back is up against the wall Shawn always disappears. I’ve seen it myself, countless times. When Lacklan stormed down to the ring with her briefcase, Shawn didn’t even put up a fight- he knew the odds were stacked against him after Leap of Faith. She smacked him with that briefcase and sent him on a years-long vacation from the XWF. I don’t think he’s even asked to challenge for the Universal championship since! When the tough get going, Shawn Warstein just seems to get gone!

I wonder if Shawn’s showing up to War Games in his famous chickensuit costume, or if he’s keeping that one tucked away for his next battle royale appearance. This gutless boy-wonder is going to come into the ring with a lot of bravado, but once his teammates start dropping like flies his courage is going to drop right alongside them. Once Shawn finds himself there in the ring, with no one to protect him from the one and only Charlie Nickles, his War Games hopes will quickly fade away.

By the end of this match, Warstein won't be fighting to advance. He'll only be fighting for survival."

Charlie plays impressively with his last remaining piece, but eventually his chicken figurine is knocked off the board by  Queen Thaddeus. Charlie lets out a disheartened sigh as he takes the loss.

"Well that's enough games for me. I'm ready to find the War."

The Nickleman stands up to leave, but the ghoul gestures for his attention.

"Wait! Do not go, Brother Charles. We have spent so long playing this game, so much has changed..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Just look into the glass, Brother Charles: and then all will become clear."

The ghoul gestures towards the cracked chessboard, which is now mostly devoid of pieces. The Nickleman leans down and stares into chessboard, seeing his new reflection for the first time. His heart sinks into the bottom of his stomach as he brings a shriveled hand up to caress his once-tender cheek. The ghoul rises with a sinister smirk etched across it's face. The ghoul places a decomposed hand onto Charlie's shoulder. 

"Worry not, because there is a place in this post-apocalyptic world for people like us. While we may not have been accepted by the world before this one, there is a new world that is completely ours for the making: and the Brotherhood of Ghouls will help us make it in our own rotten image!"

"Brotherhood of Ghouls? What's that?"

"BOG is a home for people like us...and soon, we will become LEGION! Now come, Brother: there are people you must meet. Caesar's don't depose themselves, you know..."

Charlie stares down at his ghoulish hands with dismay. The Nickleman looks towards the door with utter disbelief as this oh-so playful ghoul begins ushering him into a world unknown....]]>
“Let me get this straight, Jack-” Biden said, his aged voice barely capable of more than a whisper. “You launched the nukes?”

The XWF legend nodded with a chilling calm. “Every last one.”

Harris gasped, her hands clenching the desk. “Do you understand what you’ve done Centurion? You’ve just condemned the world to destruction!”

Centurion’s steely gaze was unwavering. “I know exactly what I’ve done. Trump’s second term wasn’t just a threat—it was the promise of endless suffering. There was no coming back from it.”

Biden’s shoulders sagged, disbelief etched in his face. “But I wanted to watch Saturday Night Savage! Charlie Nickles was going to defend his ‘TV’ Championship!”

“You’re losing your mind, Joe. It’s all over. The XWF, our government, society: all of it. Trump was just a symptom. Financial elites now control all aspects of our society. Just look at what’s happened to the XWF!

An incredibly wealthy oligarch now runs the XWF, and he’s driven out all the “old guard”! He’s put his cronies in positions of power, even though everyone can plainly see they aren’t legitimate champions! He’s even brought in big names from Twitter to headline his shows, his “rallies” if you will: is this sounding familiar? People are silenced for dissent, free speech doesn't exist, the XWF has become a rich man’s playground. The corruption is rampant and unchecked.

And now, what happened to the XWF is going to happen to our entire country. I couldn’t let it happen. So I’ve given us a different ending—an ending no one can corrupt or twist.”

Harris’s voice trembled, “And what of the innocent people, Centurion? Those precious souls like Dadbod and Atara Raven, who could never hurt a fly?!”

“I knew there’d be sacrifices. But there was no saving this world. This was mercy, on a scale I hope you never have to understand.”

In the stillness that followed, a faint, ominous tremor pulsed through the room. Beyond the walls, an unnatural brightness crept up the sky, spreading its deadly light faster than sound could follow. The world was ending in a hushed, lethal glow—a final chapter written in silence, as if even destruction itself had surrendered to the quiet. The world was already ending, a final chapter written in fire, Centurion’s last stand against a future that he could not bear to let live.

This was his FINAL FANTASY!


[Image: apocalyptic-blast-massive-nuclear-bomb-e....jpg?w=826]



Meanwhile...



Charlie awoke with a massive pain atop his shoulders. It felt as if the weight of the world had fallen onto his chest, but as Charlie opened his eyes he realized it was just a refrigerator pinning him to the ground! The Nickleman lurched to his feet, pushing the refrigerator to the side as he came to a stunning realization: those sicks cunts had stolen another victory from him!

The Nickleman kicked a dent into the side of the refrigerator before looking around the abandoned kitchen. The room was a grim mess of overturned pots and shattered glass. The floor was slicked with blood, hinting of the violence that had erupted. As Charlie glanced down he saw the corpse of the referee from his match with Dyson. The poor soul’s legs had been gnawed completely off.

“Serves him right. Should’ve had the decency to die before you counted to three!”

Charlie spat a fat loogie onto the referee’s corpse before stepping on its maggot-infested head. The weight of Charlie’s leg magically transformed it into a pile of cranial mush. Charlie then pushed through a creaking door into the dining room, seeing that it was the same unsettling space as before. The restaurant was still shrouded in dim light that barely illuminated the worn-down tables. The chairs were all out of place, completely strewn about the room as if a fight had broken out- except for one chair. Seated in the corner of the room was a figure hunched over a table—a ghoul with sunken, ashen eyes, its mottled, decaying skin stretched tightly over skeletal features, deep wrinkles etched around its hollow stare.

“Do you want to play a game?”

The ghoul directed its empty gaze towards Charlie.

“Talking to me, fuckface McGee?”

“Come, take a seat- I mean no harm.”

The ghoul gestured across the table, and suddenly a chair flew across the room and positioned itself at the table. As The Nickleman approached the table, he noticed a cracked glass chessboard with polished marble pieces atop it. As Charlie plopped down across from the ghoul, he noticed that all the pieces on the board bore striking resemblance to his so-called “peers” in the XWF.

“Now where did you get these?”

“I made them. I thought they would help us pass the time as the bombs drop.”

The Nickleman raised an inquisitive eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, his gaze was fixated upon the chess board. The pieces were arranged as if they were mid-game, with only a handful of pieces even left on the board. The black marble pieces on Charlie’s side of the table were clearly members of THE UNDERGROUND: Dadbod, Bam, and Wishbone all had their own miniature carvings. There was another black figurine dressed in a chicken costume. The chicken noticeably larger than his compatriots- he must fashion himself their king. On the other side of the board, the white pieces were arranged around their Queen: a Thaddeus Duke figurine. Game Girl, Dolly Waters, Cypher, and Madison Dyson all had their own white marble miniatures.

“I ask again: did you wish to play a game?”

“Why not? Get the rest of the pieces on the board and let’s start this baby up!”

“If only the world were so fair, brother Charles. Men like you and I? We don’t get to join the world at the start: we join the game of life at the end, when all hope is already lost. Only then is it your turn to play.”

“My turn? With only these dogshit Underground pieces? Fuck.”

Charlie closely examined his pieces, then moved his Tommy Wish directly into the path of danger.

“Why don’t you just take this piece of shit off my hands? Sacrificial lamb is the only play you can make with ‘Make-A-Wish’ on your team!”

“So much disdain for one utterly inconsequential man."

The ghoul used his Cypher piece to remove Tommy's figurine. As the pair play their pieces back and forth, Charlie's skin begins slowly transforming- aging, molting even.

“Inconsequential, huh? That freak cost my daughter her XWF Anarchy championship! I remember it like it was just yesterday, Fire and Ice all those years ago…I wasn’t there to protect her then, when he was taking advantage of her: but I’ll be there at War Games to seek her vengeance all these years later. Tommyboy is a fucking laughingstock who’s only kept around so the other losers who join this federation can feel better about themselves, because at least they’re not as bad as Tommy. Tommyboy is going to fucking Wish that he never signed up for War Games, because I’m going to show everyone just how spineless this self-proclaimed ‘Thug’ really is when I strip the flesh from his hide LIVE ON ANARCHY, just after his match against DA BING BONG TWINZZ! Because now that I’ve started thinking about it, I can’t wait until War Games to get my hands on that sorry sack of shit! I’m going to go to Anarchy to get a headstart on my homework against The UnderGround!

That useless moron can have all the forewarning in the world and he still won’t be able to stop me. He is now what he always has been and always will be: a sacrificial lamb. And by the time War Games rolls around, that little lamb will already be bleating out for his mummy.”

Charlie grabbed his Bam Miller piece and used it to knock the Cypher piece off the board. As they continue playing, Charlie's body continually degrades. His eyes sink slowly into his skull. His skin shrivels as it tightens around his decomposing corpse.

“Get your little Cypher off this board, I don’t want to see that sick fuck in my game!”

"You don’t like Cypher either?"

“Don’t like? Who the fuck likes childnappers? Cypher is scum off this earth, the walking embodiment of debauchery and villainy: and it seems like these days I’m the only one who can even see it. Or maybe, I’m just the only one with the balls to say it! Cypher is a sick and twisted fuck. We all know what people kidnap children for. And Thaddeus Duke is a suck and twisted fuck for letting that child snatcher hang around the XWF.

But putting that all child kidnapping to the side for literally one moment, because that’s where all these pussies collectively agree to put it for him- even then, Cypher is nothing more than a broken-down shell of himself.

You know how I know that? Because I’m the one that broke him.

When Thaddeus Duke realized that Cypher played a part in the snatching of his child, he called The Nickleman in to handle business. And that’s exactly what I did. One Devil Hook Drop to the brain and Cypher was never seen in OCW again. That’s the power I have when I match up against that sniveling bitch. And if we match up again in the War Games finals, big if- then I'll be ready to Devil Hook Drop his ass back to irrelevancy one more time.”

As the pair exchange moves, Charlie seems completely unaware of his ongoing transformation. The Ghoul eventually uses his Dolly Waters piece to take the Bam Miller piece off the board.

“And there goes my Bam Miller! Ah you cheeky bastard, I thought we all collectively agreed to just pretend Bam Miller doesn’t exist? I mean seriously, when the fuck do you ever hear anyone talk about Bam Miller? “Miller Time” was only ever going to last for 15 seconds- and his time’s long been up. It’s almost embarrassing, the way shriveled up failures try to crawl back into the ring everytime War Games comes around as if it’s going to restart their dead careers. And some might say this is one of those ‘pot calling the Kettle black’ scenarios, but I’ve never heard Bam Miller say anything that insightful or interesting before- and top dollar says he’s not going to start now.”

Charlie and the ghoul continue to play, until Charlie was able to use the Dadbod piece to sweep the Dolly Waters piece off the board. Charlie didn't even notice how shriveled and green his hand had become.

“Dadbod always does the trick! And by that I mean, that man is practically a dog the way he follows commands and obeys his superiors. He’s bitch-made, suffice to say. I saw it firsthand in TRIAD. They told him they wanted their Strength trials to be sanitized, clean, and family-friendly. They said jump, and Dadbod just asked how high. I took a different route, and the sheep in this industry treat me like an outcast for it.

Good.

I’d rather be an outcast than an obedient little bitch. Warstein is going to tell Dadbod that he needs his Warcock polished before the show, and Dadbod is only going to ask one question: how deep?”

The ghoul immediately uses the Dyson piece to knock off the Dadbod miniature.

“Ohhh Maddy-fucking-Dykson. What a pampered bitch. I suppose Atticus Gold didn’t even bother to correct her blatant lies when he gave her the winner’s bonus after our match.”

Charlie picks up his final piece, a black marble figurine etched in the form of a man in a chicken costume. Before he plays the piece he brings it up to his sunken, ashen eyes so he can observe it more closely.

“Shawn Warstein, the last man standing…a fate etched into the pieces themselves.”

“Then The Underground is well and truly fucked, because when Shawn’s back is up against the wall Shawn always disappears. I’ve seen it myself, countless times. When Lacklan stormed down to the ring with her briefcase, Shawn didn’t even put up a fight- he knew the odds were stacked against him after Leap of Faith. She smacked him with that briefcase and sent him on a years-long vacation from the XWF. I don’t think he’s even asked to challenge for the Universal championship since! When the tough get going, Shawn Warstein just seems to get gone!

I wonder if Shawn’s showing up to War Games in his famous chickensuit costume, or if he’s keeping that one tucked away for his next battle royale appearance. This gutless boy-wonder is going to come into the ring with a lot of bravado, but once his teammates start dropping like flies his courage is going to drop right alongside them. Once Shawn finds himself there in the ring, with no one to protect him from the one and only Charlie Nickles, his War Games hopes will quickly fade away.

By the end of this match, Warstein won't be fighting to advance. He'll only be fighting for survival."

Charlie plays impressively with his last remaining piece, but eventually his chicken figurine is knocked off the board by  Queen Thaddeus. Charlie lets out a disheartened sigh as he takes the loss.

"Well that's enough games for me. I'm ready to find the War."

The Nickleman stands up to leave, but the ghoul gestures for his attention.

"Wait! Do not go, Brother Charles. We have spent so long playing this game, so much has changed..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Just look into the glass, Brother Charles: and then all will become clear."

The ghoul gestures towards the cracked chessboard, which is now mostly devoid of pieces. The Nickleman leans down and stares into chessboard, seeing his new reflection for the first time. His heart sinks into the bottom of his stomach as he brings a shriveled hand up to caress his once-tender cheek. The ghoul rises with a sinister smirk etched across it's face. The ghoul places a decomposed hand onto Charlie's shoulder. 

"Worry not, because there is a place in this post-apocalyptic world for people like us. While we may not have been accepted by the world before this one, there is a new world that is completely ours for the making: and the Brotherhood of Ghouls will help us make it in our own rotten image!"

"Brotherhood of Ghouls? What's that?"

"BOG is a home for people like us...and soon, we will become LEGION! Now come, Brother: there are people you must meet. Caesar's don't depose themselves, you know..."

Charlie stares down at his ghoulish hands with dismay. The Nickleman looks towards the door with utter disbelief as this oh-so playful ghoul begins ushering him into a world unknown....]]> <![CDATA[Vault Tec Calling, Pt 4]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48201 Wed, 13 Nov 2024 23:48:30 -0800 ErikHolland]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=48201 [Image: 89466197b1d2f5ac1220bb107a95df3a.png]https://fontmeme.com/fallout-font/][Image: 89466197b1d2f5ac1220bb107a95df3a.png][/url[/url]]


We open looking at a Cryo-Pod, somewhere deep in Vault 98. Erik Holland “stands”, in suspended animation, eyes filmed over with the cryostasis solution, his face mask feeding him a steady diet of bio-medical gel. Curiously, his Pod is set apart from the rest of the areas where one would typically see rows and rows of CryoPods, and there seem to be a few TOO many “DANGER” and “DO NOT APPROACH” signs..


[url=[Image: 7dd543c257eca56b8d2c0aac620adf29.png]https://fontmeme.com/fallout-font/][Image: 7dd543c257eca56b8d2c0aac620adf29.png][/url[/url]]


The door of the Cryo-Pod clicks, after the green LED terminal next to it kicks to life and begins to display vital signs that are absolutely on the move. Smoke pours from the now opening Cryopod as Erik tumbles out, onto all fours, the hulking Human gripping the plasteel floor before standing up to his feet, the Vault 98 Jumpsuit holding on by a thread as he flexes his aching shoulders and hands. The whirring of a robot’s treads are the next thing we hear, but not Holland, all he hears is just a low whine. One that’s making him angry. One that is putting him into a state of intensity like he just hit three Jet all at once.


”Sir! I believe your Cryo-Pod opened a tad early--”


Erik, standing to his full six feet six height turns his maddened eyes on–oh, just a Robobrain. No ENEMIES. The red smoke in his eyes lifts some, as he calms himself enough to address the ‘Brain everybody in 98 knows as ROBBIE.


Robbie? The fuck? I don’t think i was ‘sposed to wake up for another…what happened? 


Erik scratches the back of his head, slowly approaching the Cryopod that has a yellow, blaring searchlight above it. Robbie wheels around to his right, his lights popping up and blinking.


Reactor’s been compromised, i fear. The Overseer has absconded[/b[ to the surface to locate a suitable replacement. Some other kerfuffle may be afoot but I’ve yet to compile any relevant dat–Sir? Mr. Holland? WHERE are you going?


The beast-like Holland tears past the Robobrain, grabbing bits and bobs of leather that, with a couple of hours of careful fashioning were boiled and worked into suitable–if temporary–leather armor, that is now protecting his chest and right arm. All he could think about was his fellow Vault-dwellers and how, even though he couldn’t find any of them, he had to make sure they were all okay.


And, he resolved with a smile as he threw the switch that is starting the heavy Vault door to open, whoever woke me up is gonna’ get their fuckin’ eyeballs fed to ‘em.


It’s all the way open now, and Holland picks up a pair of heavy miner’s gloves, slipping them over his fists. Flexing his hands inside the metal reinforced gloves, he continued on up the stairs, shielding his eyes as he steps up onto the surface of the Wasteland. He screws up his face as he opens up his Pip-Boy, tapping amateurishly trying to locate the map.


Fuck it.. I’ll find ‘em.


Erik mutters to himself, flexing his fists agai[size=1]n as he starts to walk, checking his pack as he does so. Rations and water, thankfully the water was treated. Good enough for him.

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We open looking at a Cryo-Pod, somewhere deep in Vault 98. Erik Holland “stands”, in suspended animation, eyes filmed over with the cryostasis solution, his face mask feeding him a steady diet of bio-medical gel. Curiously, his Pod is set apart from the rest of the areas where one would typically see rows and rows of CryoPods, and there seem to be a few TOO many “DANGER” and “DO NOT APPROACH” signs..


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The door of the Cryo-Pod clicks, after the green LED terminal next to it kicks to life and begins to display vital signs that are absolutely on the move. Smoke pours from the now opening Cryopod as Erik tumbles out, onto all fours, the hulking Human gripping the plasteel floor before standing up to his feet, the Vault 98 Jumpsuit holding on by a thread as he flexes his aching shoulders and hands. The whirring of a robot’s treads are the next thing we hear, but not Holland, all he hears is just a low whine. One that’s making him angry. One that is putting him into a state of intensity like he just hit three Jet all at once.


”Sir! I believe your Cryo-Pod opened a tad early--”


Erik, standing to his full six feet six height turns his maddened eyes on–oh, just a Robobrain. No ENEMIES. The red smoke in his eyes lifts some, as he calms himself enough to address the ‘Brain everybody in 98 knows as ROBBIE.


Robbie? The fuck? I don’t think i was ‘sposed to wake up for another…what happened? 


Erik scratches the back of his head, slowly approaching the Cryopod that has a yellow, blaring searchlight above it. Robbie wheels around to his right, his lights popping up and blinking.


Reactor’s been compromised, i fear. The Overseer has absconded[/b[ to the surface to locate a suitable replacement. Some other kerfuffle may be afoot but I’ve yet to compile any relevant dat–Sir? Mr. Holland? WHERE are you going?


The beast-like Holland tears past the Robobrain, grabbing bits and bobs of leather that, with a couple of hours of careful fashioning were boiled and worked into suitable–if temporary–leather armor, that is now protecting his chest and right arm. All he could think about was his fellow Vault-dwellers and how, even though he couldn’t find any of them, he had to make sure they were all okay.


And, he resolved with a smile as he threw the switch that is starting the heavy Vault door to open, whoever woke me up is gonna’ get their fuckin’ eyeballs fed to ‘em.


It’s all the way open now, and Holland picks up a pair of heavy miner’s gloves, slipping them over his fists. Flexing his hands inside the metal reinforced gloves, he continued on up the stairs, shielding his eyes as he steps up onto the surface of the Wasteland. He screws up his face as he opens up his Pip-Boy, tapping amateurishly trying to locate the map.


Fuck it.. I’ll find ‘em.


Erik mutters to himself, flexing his fists agai[size=1]n as he starts to walk, checking his pack as he does so. Rations and water, thankfully the water was treated. Good enough for him.

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