<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - RELENTLESS IX

<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - RELENTLESS IX - Night Three]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Wed, 06 May 2026 19:59:26 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Brotherhood Reborn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49310 Sat, 20 Sep 2025 11:51:45 -0700 Charlie Nickles]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49310 Following the events of “The Nichols Brood”

A stretch limousine roars down the highways of California at breakneck speed. The candy red gloss appears extra shiny as the sun’s rays reflect off the hummer’s paintjob. As the limo soars down the windy road, a local traffic sign catches the attention of the camera.

Chowchilla, California
Population: 19,669
Home of the Central California Women’s Facility

After resting on the sign for a few moments, the camera suddenly shifts perspective. Now, we are thrust right inside the red limousine itself!

“I’m telling you Ozzy, I know my sister! There’s no way she would do any of the shit they’ve accused her of.”

Oswald sighs to himself before turning back to face The Nickleman, who is seated opposite of him in the backseat. Charlie sips on a glass of red wine as he leans back on the plush leather seats.

“She pled guilty, Charlie.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me! The judicial system has a way of twisting people’s words, and making their stories fit some preconceived agenda. I know my sister was set-up. I’m proof-positive.”

Oswald just shrugs to himself as Charlie forces the rest of the wine down in one swift gulp.

“Hey man, you didn’t even know you had a sister until I told you just last week. How could you be proof-positive of anything about her?”

“I knew I had a sister, Oswald! I just didn’t know she was still alive. My parents told me she died in a house fire, but I always knew they were lying cunts! And now, you’ve given me all the proof I need.”

Charlie gestures towards the intelligence report Oswald had prepared for him, that’s still resting in the limo’s rear windowsill completely untouched.

“You didn’t even read my background report on her.”

Charlie leans forward, adjusting the red tie hanging around his neck as he speaks.

“I know my little baby sister, Ozzy. And besides, the only reason I haven’t read through your report is because I’ve been busy trying to save the XWF from complete market annihilation!”

Oswald rolls his eyes.

“Complete market annihilation? Riiight. I know you don’t like Dolly and Kieran, but come on, isn’t that a bit harsh?”

Charlie leans forward, resting his elbows on his fitted slacks as he stares straight ahead at Oswald.

“If anything, it’s not harsh enough! Dolly’s Union has been killing our bottom-line! Providing healthcare for every wrestler on the roster? Giving people their full paycheck, regardless of how much merch’ they sell? Reimbursing everyone’s travel expenses? If I don’t turn this ship around at Relentless, then we might not get another chance! The company itself will just go under if Dolly keeps getting her way!”

Oswald strokes his chin, nodding along in appreciation of Charlie’s fiscal acumen.

“And don’t even get me started on that Kieran motherf-“

Oswald raises his hand as the limousine comes to a complete stop. Charlie pauses midsentence as the brakes on the wheels screech until the tires completely halt.

“Oh trust me, I won’t.”

The driver of the limousine, an elderly fellow with decades of service to the XWF, turns back from the front seat to face Charlie and Ozzy.

“We’re here, fellas! The woman’s correctional facility in Chowchilla is just ahe-”

Charlie cracks a smarmy smirk as he leans back in his seat, rolling up the partition between the driver and the passengers. Then, Charlie turns his attention towards the scenery outside his window.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment for damn near 30 years…”

[Image: 1112.jpg?width=1200&quality=85&auto=form...11aae5589a]

“You’ve been dreaming of visiting your long-lost sister in a woman’s prison?”

“Well….not exactly. But here he we are- and when in Rome…”

Oswald chuckles to himself as Charlie stares out into the grounds of the Chowchilla woman’s prison. After a few moments, the limo driver finally gets around to opening Charlie’s door for him.

“You can just stay back for this one, Ozzy. It’s kind of a private matter, y’know?”

“Are you sure you don’t want some help in there? I really don’t mind.”

“No offense Oz, but I don’t need any help. I am THE Acting General Manager, after all…”

Oz snorts to himself as The Nickleman steps out from the limo by himself.

“Be careful in there, Charlie- that’s the most X-treme woman’s prison on this side of the Mississippi. Some of the ladies in there will try to make you their wife if you show any weakness.”

The Nickleman rolls his eyes with disbelief, just shrugging his shoulders before adjusting his tie one last time.

“Thanks for the heads up, Ozzy- but I can take it from here. I’ve been locking women in cages for decades, I already know all their tricks.”

Charlie flashes a devilish smirk before walking away from The Corporation’s stretch limo, letting the driver shut the door as Oswald waits alone in the backseat. The Nickleman makes a direct path straight towards the main facility on the grounds, pushing his way through the doors with the confidence of a man used to getting whatever he wants.

[Image: pmg_west-county-detention-facility-ca-ca.jpg]

Once inside the building, Charlie heads right for the reception desk. He finds a portly man with a stubble beard sitting behind a wooden desk, catching up on his sleep. The prison guard is napping atop an open magazine, clearly bored and totally checked out from whatever he was reading. Charlie approaches the desk and grabs the edge of the magazine, slowly pulling it out from beneath the guard to examine its contents, and yep, sure enough-

It's a Kieran King periodical.

But the guard jolts to life when he senses his pillow being snatched!

“Woah! Ladies, get back in your cage- oh…wait, you’re not an inmate- you’re…..*GASP*!”

The Nickleman steps back with a friendly smile, pointing towards the XWF pin on his jacket that reads ‘Acting General Manager’.

“Yes, yes- I know you’re excited to see THE Acting General Manager in person.”

The prison guard sits back in his chair at full alert, his eyes wide with awe as he sees one of the XWF’s mega-stars standing before him.

“You’re like, one of the SICKEST, GNARLIEST guys I’ve ever seen on TV!”

“Well, I like to think that I’ll be remembered first and foremost as having had an incredible mind for the business.”

“My favorite thing you ever did, was threaten to kidnap Sarah Lacklan right before Relentless!”

Charlie steps back, forcing down a cringe as the guard enthusiastically recounts one of his careers least politically correct moments.

“That’s not -exactly- how I remember it..”

“So what are you doing here in Chowchilla?”

The Nickleman leans forward on the reception desk, placing his forearms right atop the boring pages of King’s periodical.

“I’m here on a private, personal matter that requires absolute discretion.”

The guard is slow to respond, but when he does, he cracks an assumptive smirk.

“You’re looking for love before Relentless again, aren’t ya, Nickles?! Oh, you rotten scoundrel, you! That is so perfectly in character for you. You want me to give you a couple hours alone with one of our plumpest baddies? Help get your mind right before Relentless?”

The guard starts typing furiously into his computer, clearly searching through the prison’s catalogue of incarcerated women. Charlie pauses, presumably considering the offer with some degree of seriousness- before finally deciding against it.

He’s here on serious business.

“No, actually I’m here to see someone in particular…her name is Jennifer. Jennifer Nichols.”

The prison guard pauses, slowly turning back to face Charlie at the mention of his sister’s name. The guard doesn’t even need to search for her: he knows exactly who Jennifer is. Everyone in this prison knows Jennie, and they know exactly what she did to those men. Most of them watched it happen live!

“The Scarlet Verdict? Uh…I mean, she’s not bad looking I guess, but uhm…”

The guard leans in towards Charlie, almost whispering to him at this point.

“You know what she did, right? If I let you in there to, you know, with The Scarlet Verdict…she’s going to-“

Charlie steps back, dismissing the guard’s suggestion with a wave of both hands.

“No, it’s nothing like that! She’s my sister, and I want to see her before my match. I haven’t spoken to her in years, decades even…”

The guard’s jaw drops. A clear look of disbelief washes across his face. Then, the guard turns directly to the camera, cocking his head, as if asking the audience whether they shared his level of astonishment.

“Jennie Nichols is your sister? But you guys don’t even have the same last name!”

“Well, that’s because I stylize mine for the stage…my legal name isn’t Charlie, either.”

“WHOOOOOSH!”

The guard leans back in his chair, mimicking the motion of his head exploding.

“Talk about breaking kayfabe bro, holy shit! I can’t believe that psycho, serial-killing cunt is your sist-..actually, no, I can absolutely believe that. I’ve seen the things you’ve done to people for title belts.”

The realization starts to set in for the guard, but at the same time, a wave of anger flashes across Charlie’s face.

“What did you call my sister!”

Charlie leans forward on the desk once more, but this time, he points an accusatory finger right at the pudgy guard. The guard leans back in a fright, raising his palms innocently.

“I’m sorry, it’s just the way we talk about the inmates here! I didn’t mean anything personal by it…”

Charlie lowers his finger, but the flash of rage still lingers behind his eyes. Eventually, the guard drops his palms, leaning across the desk as he speaks softly to Charlie.

“I can help you meet your sister off-the-books if that’s what you want to do. Holy heck, I even helped someone meet that Epstein guy right before I got transferred to this facility! It won’t be a problem. But, mano-e-mano, I have to ask….”

Charlie raises a curious brow as the prison guard speaks in a hushed tone.

“What all do you know about The Scarlet Verdict’s crimes?”

[Image: Mobile-Shelving-Evidence-Box-Storage.jpg...torage.jpg]

We cut to a shot of the prison’s evidence room, where we see Charlie standing near the guard as he pulls down box after box. The guard scrounges through a slew of disorganized evidence boxes one at a time as Charlie scratches his head and taps his foot on the floor, waiting impatiently.

“Hey, I appreciate the effort Bert- your name was Bert, right?”

The prison guard pokes his head out from a box just long enough to reply.

“It was Kurt, actually!”

“Kurt, right. Well Kurt, it was great to come back and see this big mess you guys got going on, but I’m really juggling a lot right now. I have to headline two nights of Relentless, I have to squash the union efforts, and I have to win back my Universal Championship- so I was trying to just come in and visit my sister real quick. I don’t really have time for all thi-”

“AHA!”

Kurt pulls down a box and exclaims victory once he inspects its contents. Ignoring Charlie’s plea for brevity, Kurt rushes Charlie over towards a table before he places the box down. Then the prison guard starts guiding Charlie through the evidence box, one packet at a time.

“I don’t mean any offense, Mr. Nickles, but your little sister was one sick fuck.”

The Nickleman glares right at Kurt, but the prison guard doesn’t notice. He’s too busy pulling a porcelain mask out from the box.

The Scarlet Verdict’s mask.

“She was known around the dark web as The Scarlet Verdict, and she wore this mask whenever she hit the stage. Or rather, whenever she started a stream. That line running down the center is supposed to mark justice’s divide and her own personal “verdict” of her victim.”

The Nickleman contorts his face in confusion as Kurt handles the mask delicately, passing it over to Charlie for inspection.

“A stream? That’s why you guys have her in jail? Cause she was fuckin’ streamin’?”

Charlie takes the mask, and stares down into it’s empty eye sockets as Kurt huffs at The Nickleman’s naivete.

“It’s not the fact that she was streaming, it’s WHAT she was streaming...”

Charlie caresses the fine designs on the mask as Kurt reaches back into the box, pulling out a portable webcam device.

“The Scarlet Verdict used this camera to record and livestream the torture, humiliation, and first-degree murder of influential men up and down the west coast. Men that she thought had escaped the reach of justice.”

Charlie raises a curious brow as he clutches the mask close to his chest. Meanwhile, Kurt waves around his sister’s webcam with very little concern for it’s preservation!

“So she would give the victims her own sick, twisted sense of justice. But the cops could never trace her, because she was a technical genius. She would encrypt her streams, and they would bounce off different relay points so they could never pin down her live location.”

Kurt casually places the camera down on the table as Charlie’s eyes widen completely. Charlie keeps a close grip on Jennie’s old mask as Kurt reaches back into the evidence box and pulls out an all-black, bulletproof bodysuit.

“And The Scarlet Verdict was armed to the teeth. She was ready for whatever the cops tried to throw at her, and she never let anything get in between her and the victims.”

Kurt then reaches into the box and pulls out pair of red gloves with reinforced knuckles. The metal implants on the knuckles are stained with years-old blood. Charlie places the mask down before looking across the table at the guard.

“You have to take me to see my sister, because none of this is making any sense! She wouldn’t do something so stupid, she’d be smarter.”

“While I can appreciate the sentiment, she pled GUILTY to the crimes…”

“That’s what I’m saying, Bert! My sister would never be dumb enough to admit that she did this stuff! She would do what I always do: deny, deny, deny! This all has to be one big misunderstanding.”

Kurt steps back from the table, shrugging his shoulders as Charlie starts digging into the evidence himself.

“Look through the box for yourself, Charlie- and if you still want to visit your sister after you see what she did, come back and talk to me. I can set up a meet and greet, but you’ll have to be quick- she’s supposed to be in 24/7 isolation. Warden’s orders.”

Kurt steps out of the evidence room, heading back towards the reception desk to man the prison’s front door. As Charlie is left alone to uncover the evidence of his sister’s crimes, his eyes can’t help but drift back towards her mask. Time and time again, he finds himself enchanted by the strange symbols polished into the porcelain.

The hammer atop a fractured cheek, representing the fundamental fractures in our system that go unpunished. The kind of infractions that, in Charlie’s mind, had been running rampant in the XWF before he ‘took over’. In his eyes, maybe his sister and him weren’t so different after all. They both had their own forms of justice, and neither were afraid to dispense it when duty called.

And duty was calling Charlie towards the main event of Relentless. Dolly Waters was running the company into the ground, and Kieran’s rise signaled that another wave of mediocrity was on the horizon. Charlie knew he was the only one who could stand in the way, who could right the ship and bring the XWF back to its days of glory.

He could feel it in his bones, in his veins, in his tingling skin. And whenever he touched the mask- he could feel it in the porcelain, too.

The entire Nichols Brood could feel it.

When Charlie placed his hand on the porcelain mask, he just knew it really was Jennie’s. The craftsmanship, the subtle messages, the clear purpose: it was all like staring into a porcelain mirror.

Charlie picked The Scarlet Verdict’s mask up, closing his eyes as he lowered it down onto his own face.

The cold porcelain tingled when it touched his skin, and truthfully the mask was a snug fit. Charlie’s bottom lip, chin, and hairline were all still visible from behind Jennie’s handmade mask.

From behind her alias.

While the snug porcelain was gripping his face, Charlie felt a calming wave rush through his age-addled body. The cold touch of the mask rejuvenated him, reminding him of home. Despite being too small to wear properly, Charlie still felt that it ‘fit’ better than the suits he’d been wearing on Warfare. The expensive fabrics, the strangulating ties, they always made Charlie’s skin crawl. But he would always swallow the feeling alongside a handful of pills, and power through for the good of the XWF.

Because as the Acting General Manager, he had to keep up appearances. He had to keep up the company’s public image. He had to be a professional, he had to be measured and precise with his every move.

But while wearing her mask, Charlie felt the pressure lift. While wearing the mask, Charlie didn’t feel compelled to measure anymore- now, he just wanted to cut.

The porcelain chilled his frantic mind.

From behind her alias, he could focus clearly on what must be done:

No matter what must be done.

Kieran and Dolly would face his judgement at Relentless, and the entire Nichols Brood would be there to bear witness.

Growing up, we were taught that violence was never the answer…

Unless we deserved it.

Growing up, we were told that sparing the rod meant spoiling the child…

But only the good one would get spoiled.

And Dolly, Kieran-

You mouthy little brats have finally forced my hand.

When we meet inside that ring at Relentless, not a damn soul is being spared- let alone spoiled!

As YOUR Acting General Manager, I’m left with no choice.

I have to put the company first.

I have to ensure the XWF’s DOMINANCE, even as companies like VALOR and UGWC try poaching our talent and encroaching on our market share.

And that means, when push comes to shove, I’m the one who has to make the hard decisions for the betterment of this federation.

I’m the one who has to end a years-long friendship.

I’m the one who has to embarrass a beloved veteran on his comeback tour.

Because as your Acting General Manager, I’m the only one who can.

I’m the only one who can purge the weakness from our beloved Universal Championship.

And the only way I can do it, is by sending Kieran and Dolly back home with their flowers- forevermore.

Those sniveling cunts already know what’s coming for them.

That’s why they cling to the shadows whenever The Nickleman is in town!

These cowards want to be ‘Champions of the Universe’, but they can only muster the courage to appear on HALF of the XWF’s TV programming?

The last show before Relentless, the Go-Home Anarchy, and neither our “Champion” nor our “King” were anywhere to be found. And after the stunts they pulled on Warfare, that was probably a pretty smart fuckin’ move.

Because I WAS on Anarchy-

Looking for them.

Looking to spill some bad-blood.

I couldn’t wait to get my hands around Dolly’s skull, without her union slaves there to pull me off her! I couldn’t wait to get my hands around Kieran’s throat, without Tommy fuckin’ Gunn there to save the day!

But Kieran and Dolly just won’t appear on shows that can’t afford their personal security budgets. Trust me, I’ve seen the contracts: and as the Acting General Manager, I’ve actually signed a couple!

Dolly and Kieran want to protect the way they’re presented on our programming, and I suppose if you’re a boot-licking know-nothing you might say they’ve earned that right. But if you ask me?

They’re just scared witless of The Nickleman- especially that posh prick Kieran. I swear, he won’t go anywhere without his security team, and that means Anarchy is strictly off-limits for him!

He knows that I’m out there, always watching from the shadows, in every corner of the Universe-

My dominance in the 24/7 hallways proved my omnipresence.

My victories over Corey Black and Yelena Gorgo proved my omnipotence.

And my inscrutable intellect proves my omniscience, time and time again.

Dolly and Kieran aren’t just walking into a mere match at Relentless-

They’re walking into my perfectly crafted trap.

And when their feet touch the canvass…

The net will finally spring!

A single cell rests at the end of a dark corridor. The only light comes from a dying bulb, placed in the hallway outside the cage. A rat squeaks before scattering across the floor, spooked by the sudden steps of The Nickleman: a known rat-killer.

Charlie walks through the long, crumbling corridor buried deep in the basement of the woman’s prison. Unkept and rarely used, some of the bricks in the tunnel literally crumble to the touch when Charlie reaches out to steady his gait. Unsettled dust filled his nostrils whenever he moved, but his eyes stayed locked onto the shadow at the end of the hall.

The shadow coming from inside the cell.

Her shadow.

“Jennie…could it be?”

Charlie’s heart fluttered with every step as he approached the lone cell. Could his little baby sister really be here, after all this time apart?

On the one hand, Charlie couldn’t bear to stomach the thought of his sister being trapped in prison isolation.

But on the other hand, Charlie wanted desperately to believe his sister was alive.

As Charlie reached the cell, he placed his hands on the iron bars separating him from her. He gazed into the cell, seeing her blonde hair for the first time in decades. The inmate was sitting on her bed, facing away from the door.

“Jennie?”

She turned around when he called her name, and Charlie’s face lit up with joy when he saw her eyes.

“Oh my God, Jennie! It’s really you! Holy shit, I thought you were dead!”

Charlie is damn near jumping with glee, but his reaction quickly dampens when he sees Jennie simply turn away from him.

“Wait, Jennie- it’s me, Charlie.”

“I know damn well who you are.”

Charlie cocks his head to the side as his sister refuses to meet his gaze.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Charlie takes a step back, and surveys the rancid conditions of the prison’s only isolation cell.

“Well…-relatively- happy, given you know, the situation…”

Jennie swings around on the bed, facing Charlie from across the length of the cell. Her blonde, barely shoulder length hair remains brilliantly maintained despite the squalor she’s subjected to. Her fair skin still shines when the light from the dying bulb hits it, despite everything she’s been through, everything she’s seen, and everything she’s done.

“Look, I thought you were dead, Jennie…I’m just so relieved to see you’re here. Well, not -here-, but, you know…”

The Nickleman shows another side of himself, the part he hides and tucks away from the cameras, as he sheepishly rubs his feet together outside of his sister’s cell.

“I just love you, and I’m so happy to see you.”

“I might as well be dead to you, Charles- because you’re still dead to me.”

The Nickleman grabs the iron bars with both of his hands, tugging on them, as if trying to move them out of the way as his little sister bears her unbearable truths to him.

“You left me for dead when you turned 18, and you never came back for me. You just left me to fend for myself. You left me all alone to fight off the wolves, and now you want to cry crocodile tears because I got caught skinning the biggest, baddest wolves of them all?”

“Jennie, I didn’t leave you! Mom and dad told me you were dead, that you had burned up in the house fire!”

“The fire that they started to collect on their home insurance? And you were dumb enough to believe them?”

Jennie rolled her hair around her finger, crossing her legs on the bed as she leaned on her arm in disbelief. Her brother, meanwhile, tugged desperately on the bars of her cell.

“I didn’t know what to believe! They had just kicked me out of the house, and I was struggling to make it on my own, and then they told me that you died..and..yes, I was stupid enough to believe them! I’m sorry Jennie, I never would’ve left you back in Steubenville all alone with them if I had kno-“

Jennie cuts him off with a harsh wave of the hand and a tilt of the head.

“Hey, save it for someone who cares, okay? Go get a therapist or something, and stop trauma-dumping. They didn’t lock me in here so you could torture me with your rambled self-loathing! You found me. Mom and dad lied. Now beat it, ‘big bro’, because I have to get back to counting the days.”

The Nickleman cocks a curious brow as his sister turns away from him inside her cell.

“Counting the days? Like..until they let you out?”

Jennie can’t help but turn back and laugh at the idea of being released.

“HA! Me? Get out of here? No no no…didn’t you hear what I did, Charles? I threw it all away. My entire life. My entire career. I threw it all away, but at least I took the trash out with me. They’re never going to let me out of this cell again, not after what I did. Not after who I did it to.”

“We can get you out of here, Jennie- I know it! We can appeal the case, and then try to bribe the judge, or we could sneak out some kind of win in appeals court on a technicality! You don’t have to give up. We can say that your guilty plea was coerced, that you didn’t understand your miranda rights! We can-“

Jennie crosses her arms, scoffing at Charlie’s creative legalese.

“But I did do it, Charles. And I’m proud of my work. Those creeps and scumbags all had it coming, starting with our own merry father.”

“You killed dad? I thought he died by falling off a ladder!”

“Who do you think pushed him, you big dumb idiot? You really will believe anything you hear about someone’s death, huh? But that was when I first got my taste for blood. After I moved outside the family, I had to get a bit more…creative with my approach.”

Charlie leans back in shock, placing one hand on the iron bars for support as one hand rushes up to his skull, gripping it in confusion as he soaks in his sister’s soulful confession.

“I don’t regret a single thing I did. All the blood I spilled was well deserved, and the people deserved to see it stream. They needed to watch it live, so that they could understand the cost of their sins.”

Charlie shook his head in frustration, clearly struggling to deal with the truth of his sister’s twisted life. As he lifted his head, he met her steely-eyed gaze from the other side of the iron bars.

“I promise you Jennie, I’m going to find a way to get you out of this cell…I want you by my side at Relentless. I’m going to make history, Jennie- and I want you there with me.”

Charlie looked around the cell’s squalor once more, a look of great dismay flashing across his face.

“I want you out of here, Jennie- and I’m going to make it happen, no matter what I have to do!”

Jennie rolled her eyes, unwilling to believe any promise made by the brother who abandoned her all those years ago.

“Offf coouurrrse, you just want to get me out so I can be there at your wrestling show. Because at the end of the day, it’s always about you and your ego, isn’t it? Men like you disgust me. So obsessed with your own vanity projects, that you’ll step on anyone if their blood will help you shine. Men like you think you run this world, you think you’re “Kings” and everyone else is just a pawn to be played with!”

Jennie glared directly at Charlie, who was clearly taken aback and unprepared for his sister’s harsh words.

“Maybe mom was right about you, Charles. Maybe you really are scum of the earth. Maybe you’re just like those pigs I used to gut.”

“No, Jennie- it’s not like that!”

“Whatever, Charles. We both know you can’t get me out of this hellhole, not even God himself could save me from the Warden’s wrath at this point. I’ll be here forever, and Charles- I don’t want to see you again.”

A single tear rolled down Charlie’s cheek as his long-lost sister turned away from him once more. Charlie shook his head with a mixture of rage and self-loathing, vowing to free his sister from the prison’s wretched embrace.

“I promise I’ll get you out of here, Jennie- I promise….”

As Charlie looked back at the end of the corridor, he saw the prison guard- Kurt, standing at the edge of the hall. Kurt was waving his hands above his hand, signaling to Charlie that the time for conversation had ended. This was all the time Charlie had left to see his little baby sister.

But it was all the time he needed.

Because now, he knew exactly what he needed to do before Relentless:

He had to fulfill his promise to Jennie.

Kieran fuckin’ Queen.

How’s it feel to know that everything you’ve been working towards for two years…is all going up in smoke at Relentless?

Just take a look around.

Nobody watching Warfare cares about your little crown anymore. That shit hasn’t mattered for 6 months.

The only storyline ANYONE is talking about heading into Night 3 of Relentless, is The Corporation vs The Revolution.

It’s the one narrative that carried the entire XWF, all summer long.

It’s the one narrative that doesn’t have any space for you, or your delusions of grandeur.

No matter how hard you try to insert yourself into this power struggle for the soul of the XWF, the truth remains unchanged: Kieran simply doesn’t belong in this Main Event. You’re just the tacked-on asterisk to the Dolly Waters-Charlie Nickles rematch. You’re the subtext, the fine print in between the lines that nobody actually reads.

As the Acting GM of Warfare, I’ve ran the numbers time and time again. Whenever Kieran appears on TV, we lose viewers.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Because nobody wants to watch an old man reminisce about ‘ the good old days’ on Warfare. Face the music, Kieran, and get off the damn stage: understand that you’re just a relic of the past!

The last time Kieran held real gold in the XWF, it was covered in fuckin’ feces. Not just the belt, but the entire damn federation! So maybe sniffin’ farts and kissin’ ass is all Kieran knows, but we’ve turned the XWF around!

I’VE TURNED THE XWF AROUND.

Single-handedly!

So those old tricks Kieran knows, they just won’t work anymore. Kieran can sniff his own farts and jerk himself off as much as he wants, but come Relentless, he’s going to realize that type of self-aggrandizing bullshit doesn’t get it done anymore.

Not in today’s XWF.

Not in MY XWF!

I rewrote the entire rulebook when I brought back ‘Big Gold’, and I never even bothered to send Kieran a copy.

Because why would I?

What has he done to DESERVE it?

He won a couple matches 6 months ago, big fuckin’ whoop. I win a couple matches every TV cycle!

He beat one-half of a tag team, in singles competition, twice over. Jesus Christ, talk about half-baked and over-done! If Kieran really wanted to impress me, he should’ve found someone to partner with, and then he could’ve actually won a match that fuckin’ mattered!

But Kieran will tell you he doesn’t “want” a partner, and he doesn’t “need” a faction to watch his back!

But the truth is?

Kieran couldn’t find someone willing to swear fealty to the crown if his life depended on it!

Because anyone who’s been around Kieran can attest to this: the stench of his hubris is nauseating.

It kinda smells like the old XWF, if you know what I’m sayin’?

The Pre-Charlie era, if you will.

But Pre-Charlie and Post-Charlie are entirely different worlds if you ask me.

And if you don’t wanna ask me…

Just ask Maraeth.

Pre-Charlie? She was spouting off about The Black Rainbow taking over the XWF.

Post-Charlie? She rode that very same Rainbow right to the unemployment line!

Kieran Queen’s been beefin’ with the Rainbow for months- but it only took me one night to turn Maraeth into Minced-Meat. I cut heads off of snakes in one fell swoop: but Kieran? He plays with his food so damn much, he just ends up choking on it!

Time and time again.

Those Rainbow Warriors never got my ass- but they got Kieran’s ass.

Time and time again.

They beat his ass so fuckin’ bad at Leap of Faith, I almost felt bad for the guy!

Almost.

They tricked you into fighting their “Messenger”, and the only message that sent to me, was that Kieran doesn’t know what the FUCK he’s doing anymore!

He’s lost his touch; he’s lost his wrestling instincts.

Those Rainbow Warriors must’ve beat it out of him.

And you never got your get-back, did you Kieran?

I walked THROUGH The Black Rainbow, and right out the other side.

But Kieran?

All he found at the end of the Rainbow was the same thing he’ll find at the end of Relentless: a motherfuckin’ ass-whoopin’!

After the Rainbow Warriors smeared the ring with your blood at Leap of Faith, you didn’t dare come back for more. You didn’t call in the cavalry, you didn’t rally the troops: you just fled for the fuckin’ hills.

If you don’t believe that dinosaurs and chickens are related, then just take a look at Kieran: cause he’s clearly their missing link!

You didn’t have any FAITH you could win against them, in fact, you just took a LEAP away from The Rainbow, and started pickin’ on tag-teams!

You never got your vengeance back in blood.

You just waited until I did it for you!

And as YOUR Acting General Manager, I didn’t even have a choice. I had to drive The Black Rainbow out, so that I could make the XWF a “safe space” for entitled brats like Kieran. Since he’s a member of the XWF Board of Directors, corporate policies prevented me from ignoring Kieran’s plight: no matter how much I wanted to.

The Rainbow wouldn’t let him cosplay royalty in peace, so then, his Acting General Manager had to make sure that they’d be resting in peace forevermore.

But if you think I’m going to win this match for you at Relentless?

Then you’ve truly lost your medieval fuckin’ mind!

So when we finally square off in the Main Event of Night 3, I’m going to shove that Burger-King crown so far up your ass that you’ll be doing the CRAB WALK til’ next March!

And I would’ve already done it, if it weren’t for those meddling Revolutionaries!

Because The Corporation had you dead to rights last Warfare.

Everyone saw it.

You were trembling on your knees before me, with The Corporate Titans, The Grok, and The Syn City Saint all waiting in the wings.

You never would’ve made it to Relentless…

Until Dolly Waters and the union rushed in to save you.

What a weak-willed, ineffectual, and limp-wristed King.

Such a non-threat, that even the Revolutionaries fought to spare your life.

No talk of guillotines, no talk of coups.

Just the weak protecting the weak.

Because you’re no King, Kieran- you’re just a royal prick who likes to play make believe!

We all know you’re not really going to Africa to film some two-bit special for Warfare. Your vignettes are your masterpieces, they’re your pieces of art: and if I know anything about Kieran, he wants his art to be polished and protected.

And the harsh realities of the universe are too much for Kieran’s fragile fuckin’ ego to handle.

So this pampered little drama Queen films all his vignettes in some fancy movie studio- and trust me, I know what I’m talking about! As the Acting General Manager for Warfare, who do you think was signing off on his massive budgets?!

At the start of the day, at the middle of the day, and at the end of the day Kieran cares about one thing above all:

The public’s perception.

Because Kieran’s not a tough guy in real life. He can’t beat the XWF’s top talent unless there’s a ridiculous gimmick involved, and he knows it. That’s why he clings to his precious tournament so fuckin’ badly, you’d think March Madness was the only thing he’d ever won.

Because it is.

So he tries to convince the roster that it actually matters, he tries to tell people that he’s some sort of ‘King’- and he begs you to believe him. He desperately needs you to take his word for it, he prays that you’ll go along with his Ponzi scheme, because if you actually try to test his mettle inside that ring?

Well, let’s just say that wrestler’s from ‘Kieran’s era’ can never pass the ‘smell check’.

The bullshit they spew is just too rancid to tolerate. So when night 3 of Relentless rolls around, Kieran is truly and ROYALLY fucked- because his mouth finally wrote a check his crown can’t cash.

At Relentless we are going to usher in a new age of the XWF, the NICHOLS ERA! And in my era these “old-school”, shit-stained wrestlers like Kieran and Darren Dangerous? They’re not going to be able to cut it. They’re just going to get cut from the roster if they ever run afoul of their ACTING GENERAL MANAGER!

So I’m not saying that Kieran is Darren Dangerous- and I’m certainly not saying that I’m Yelena Gorgo…

But I am saying that our match will be the highlight of Kieran’s career.

And it will be the last time anyone ever says that name again.

[Image: Kings-Death-Alexandre-Granger.png?v=1749128328]

“It’s honestly a very modest proposal if you really think about it, and stop being a bitch for one second, Nadine!”

The camera opens on a shot inside the XWF Corporate boardroom, where we see every member of The Corporation present for a very important pre-Relentless meeting. Charlie and Nadine are standing on opposite sides of a comically long table, getting into a screaming match with each other. Peter Principal watches helplessly from the sidelines, drooling on himself in his wheelchair.

“Spending millions of company dollars to hire appeals lawyers for a serial-killer is NOT a modest proposal! It’s insane!”

Nadine throws her hands up in frustration, scattering the pages of Charlie’s Grok-generated “analysis report” all over the room.

“And the fact that you want to promote “Scarlet Verdict” merchandise under the XWF label is downright offensive! This idea isn’t a money hydrant; it’s a market collapse waiting to happen!”

“Listen here you fat bitch, I’m in charge, so whatever I say goes! I don’t see you wearing an official pin on your suit jacket, now do I?”

Charlie taps the pin on his blazer three times in a row. The lapel reads ‘Acting General Manager’.

“Take your ass back to the 24/7 hallways and screw over another champion, because I’m sick and tired of you trying to veto all my ideas in this meeting!”

“Someone has to stand up for the company while Peter Principal’s incapacitated! And if that someone has to be me…well then, so be it!”

“Stand up for the company? Lady, as long as Peter Principal is drooling on himself, I AM THE COMPANY!”

Nadine leans forward, finally matching Charlie’s intensity as her hands grip the finished edge of the wooden table. She stares into Charlie’s eyes with unmatched fury as the other members of The Corporation watch the action unfold, sitting at the edge of their seats.

“No you’re not, Charlie: no you’re FLIPPIN’ not!”

The members of the Corporation gasp at Nadine’s use of the ‘f’ bomb.

“I read through the contract you conned Peter Principal into signing after he was attacked by The Black Rainbow. It stipulated that you would only be Acting General Manager for a limited number of days- and I counted them, Charlie- your last day as Acting General Manager is set to be night 3 of Relentless.”

Another round of gasps escapes from the lips of The Corporation’s members as Nadine begins laying into Charlie with facts and logic! Nadine had held her tongue for months as Charlie went unchecked in these meetings, but now, Peter’s personal secretary had finally had enough!

“You might be the leader of The Corporation until Peter recovers, but as far as your contract goes? You’ve only got a few days left to parade around as a Manager, and then you’re right back to where you started. As a good for nothing talent, just begging the real power brokers to give you favors.”

Nadine smirked after she delivered her final haymaker to Charlie’s corporate status, but The Nickleman tries to take it in stride. Charlie fluffs out his suit jacket as Nadine daintily retakes her seat.

“I still have a couple days left to transfer every dollar I need into a lawyer’s account, and good luck trying to claw back money from a lawyer!”

Charlie sits down and flips open his laptop computer, furiously typing away as he tries to access the XWF’s bank accounts.

DING!

DING!

Peter strains to speak, using every ounce of energy he has to push the air in his windpipe out through his lips.

“NnnNnnooOOOoooOOooooo…..WASSSTEE…..FRAUD….ABUSE!”

“God damn it, my bank access code isn’t working!”

Nadine can’t contain her smile from across the room.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention: we had to change them. It was a corporate order, you understand.”

Charlie stops messing with his laptop, slowly shutting it’s screen as he stares daggers into Nadine from across the table.

“I didn’t give you that order. Where’d it come from?”

“The Board of Directors.”

Nadine’s smile triggers a tripwire in the back of Charlie’s mind, but in his status as Acting General Manager, he has no choice but to take her foul insolence on the chin. Charlie’s hands ball into fists as the vein on his forehead grows to a comical size.

“The Corporation doesn’t want to help rescue my sister from that shithole prison? FINE! Then I’ll just figure out a way to do it myself! I don’t need your help, Nadine! I don’t need anyone’s help!”

Nadine’s smug smirk speaks for itself as Charlie bolts out of the boardroom in a rage, sending the door flying off it’s hinges with a burst of incredible power! The Nickleman ducks into the hallway, rubbing one hand through his slicked-back mane as another hand readjusts his belt buckle.

“You can do this Charlie, you promised Jennie you’d think of something! And if Nadine won’t let The Corporation help well then, you’ll just have to think of something different to get Jennie out of prison!”

Charlie paces back and forth in the hallway, trying to brainstorm a way to get his serial-killing sister set free before Relentless.

“I could get The Grok to- shit, Nadine would never allow that…I could dig a tunnel- but that’s going to take weeks, if not months….I could- I could…”

As Charlie paces wildly in the hallway, the one and only OSWALD steps out from the boardroom meeting. The brains of The Corporate Titans, Oswald approaches Charlie with tender concern. The giant of Anarchy places a calming hand on Charlie’s shoulder, snapping The Nickleman out of his manic panic.

“You could finally let me help you.”

Charlie looks up at the big man with trepid hesitation.

“I need to do this myself, Ozzy! I’m supposed to be the Universal Champion, I’m supposed to be the Acting General Manager, I’m supposed to be in complete and total control of everything in the universe! But those bitches are trying to strip me of my power! The power I need to get my sister out of prison, and the power I need to make the universe bend to my will!”

Oswald looks down at his old friend with a solemn expression, letting his hand slowly drop from Charlie’s shoulder as the pair speak.

“Just because you CAN do something by yourself, doesn’t mean you NEED to it all by yourself. There’s nothing wrong with asking your friends for help, no matter what title you have.”

“But you heard Nadine- she’s not going to let any Corporate resources go towards helping my sister! And without those Corporate connections, I have no idea where to even start!”

Oswald stares at Charlie with an unblinking gaze, in equal parts astonishment and judgement.

“Charlie, we don’t need The Corporation. It needs us. Hell, it especially needs me! I’m a multi-billion dollar wrestling machine. I’ve helped the XWF get every major media deal they’ve ever landed: because I own stake in every communications network. Thaddeus Duke dreams of having a net-worth, and a network, like mine.”

The Nickleman wipes away some of the lathered saliva left on his lips. Then, he brings that very same hand down to his chin as he ponders Oswald’s assertion.

“So you’re saying you can help me get a lawyer for Jennie?”

Oswald’s belly shakes as the billionaire guffaws in the hall.

“A lawyer? Charlie, I know the Governor of California! I’m one of the top donors to Gavin Newsom’s campaign committee- and I was one of the biggest donors to his opponent, too. I play both sides so that way, I always come out on top.”

“Damn Ozzy, I didn’t realize you were so good at politics!”

“I’m not just ‘good’ at politics, Charlie: I’m the best. Newsom owes me more favors than he can count, unless he wanted to count up every dollar I’ve ever donated on his behalf. And if the Warden of the prison wants to speak against it- well, let’s just say I know more than a few skeletons that he’ll want to keep in the closet.”

Oswald gives a reassuring nod of the head to Nickles, who is finally starting to cheer up after his corporate scuffle with Nadine.

“If you could help my sister, Oswald, then I’ll really fuckin’ owe you one.”

Oswald smirks, a sly grin spreading across his lips.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing this. I’m good at politics, remember?”

The Corporate Bastards share a chuckle as Nickles swings an arm around the big-man’s helpful shoulders.

“You’re a good noodle, Ozzy, you know that? Helping me get my serial-killing sister out of prison…I don’t’ even know what more I could ask for!”

Oswald flashes a heartfelt smile to The Nickleman as he pulls out his cellphone, readying himself to start cashing in those favors.

“You're the one who got me back in BoB, Charlie: and I'll never forget that.”

Nickles nodded in mutual remembrance of their ancient anti-Centurion accord.

“I remember that day well, Oz. I felled the great Centurion in front of his Ruby maiden, and you pledged your sword to the Brotherhood once more.”

“You will always be my Brother, Charlie. It’s what sets you apart from those who couldn’t make it, from everyone who flamed out of our Bastardly ranks. And if Jennie’s your sister, well then that makes me her brother too- and I won’t let our sister rot in that damn cell.”

The Nickleman’s pearly white smile couldn’t be contained. Despite Nadine’s scheming, his old Brother had pulled through for him- just like he was trying to pull through for Jennie. The pair of bastards walked down the hall together, Oswald making magic happen on his phone while Charlie daydreamed about winning back the Universal Championship in front of his little sister.

[Image: oKMZ552_grande.jpg?v=1700594561]

Dolly motherfuckin’ Waters.

My oh my, how time flies…

It feels like just yesterday, we were arm-in-arm, the tag-team championships around our waists…

But now?

Look how far we’ve come.

They never thought we’d make it this far, did you know that?

Those fans out there who only chant your name for a moment. Those talentless hacks you’ve brought into your ‘Union’.

They were never on your side.

Not until you stole my ‘Big Gold’.

And now?

You’re confusing the union's jealousy for adoration.

They’re all plotting on your downfall, even when they pat you on the back.

Dickie Watson, Corey Smith, Mark Flynn: these people aren’t your friends.

They’re just using you, Dolly- and you’re simply too blind to see it.

Or maybe, I gave you one too many hits on the fuckin’ head- and now, you’re too much of a dumb bitch to see what’s clearly in front of you!

I was the only real friend you had for years.

I was the only one looking out for you, and not just myself.

But then you spat in my face at Leap of Faith…

And that’s when I learned Dolly doesn’t care about loyalty, hustle, or respect-

She only cares about getting her ass kissed.

Dolly Waters is a smug, self-righteous little worm trying to wriggle her way into the XWF Hall of Legends. She thinks she’s going to wrestle her way into the fertile soil of history, but all she’s really doing is digging the dirt for her own grave.

Yeah, Dolly- they might put you in the Hall of Legends…

But only after I cripple your body, and cut your career 20 years short on Night 3 of Relentless!

I’m going to do to you, Dolly, what I should have done to Sarah Lacklan exactly 5 years ago…and you should thank me, Dolly.

Because then and only then, would you ever stand beside her in the hall of the great ones!

You just don’t have -IT-, Dolly!

You don’t have that killer instinct.

And the fact that I’m still standing here is the proof!

You should’ve put me in the dirt when you had the chance, because now?

I’ve come back to take what’s rightfully mine- and this time, I won’t be blinded by my love for you Dolly.

I won’t be held back by our bonds of friendship.

Because I finally realized I was wrong about you, Dolly…I was wrong all along.

You never reminded me of my daughter…LSM was twice the woman you could ever be, and she was three times the luchadora.

You just reminded me of my little baby sister.

But there’s really nothing about you that’s similar to her: you don’t have her killer instinct, you don’t have her unbending loyalty, you don’t have her drive or determination.

The only thing you have is her blonde hair, but when it’s draping off your anorexic frame? It always just looks like a wig.

And I don’t need a cheap replacement like you anymore, because I have the real fuckin’ deal again. So now, when we rematch inside that ring at Relentless: I won’t be relying on my Corporate Associates to take you out.

Because this time, I won’t feel like I’m killing my baby sister when I smash your skull into the steel steps!

I’ll just feel alive.

I'll just feel like the Universe is back in my hands, and your pouring blood will be my Scarlet Verdict.

The Corporation’s limousine was parked just outside the Central California Women's Facility, one of the most notorious women’s prisons in America. Most days the shining sun above Chowchilla served as a cruel reminder of the beautiful world beyond the bars, but today the mood inside the prison was far more cheerful.

Because today was release day.

Whether it was the end of your sentence or the start of your parole, today was a day of great celebration, and of even greater resentment. For Jennifer Nichols, it had always been the latter- until now.

The camera zooms in on The Corporation’s stretch limo, getting closer and closer to the scarlet carriage until the perspective shifts- and suddenly, we’re in the back of the limo alongside Charlie and Oswald! The Nickleman has a wild look in his eye and a giant grin stretching from ear to ear. Oswald is looking down at the paperwork for Jennie’s release, trying to explain the nuanced terms to her big brother.

“Due to the ”allegedly” heinous nature of her crimes, we couldn’t get a full release for Jennie- but we were able to get her out on a work release program, under the supervision of XWF management.”

“Work release? So, she’s going to be stuck doing some boring, front-office bullshit?”

Oswald shrugs his shoulders as he purses his lips.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. If you ask me, you and your sister share some of the same dark impulses. A desire for control, a perverted sense of justice, a real go-getter attitude when it comes to X-treme violence…but while you found an outlet for your dark energies, your sister never did. And that nurtured difference is why you’re headlining the biggest wrestling event of the year, and your sister was locked in a cage- even if you both share the same fundamental nature.”

Charlie’s face twists into a pretzel, betraying his confusion with Oswald’s psychoanalytic framing.

“Look, Charlie- if you weren’t putting your rival’s bodies through tables on a nightly basis, you might just be out there murdering people, too.”

Charlie finally starts nodding along in understanding.

“So, I think some time in the ring could be good for your little sister. Therapeutic even. That’s why I made sure that the terms of her work release program SPECIFICALLY state that she will be employed by the XWF as an in-ring performer!”

Charlie’s jaw turns to slack as he starts picturing someone forcing his sister through a table, or hitting her across the back with a chair.

“Are you insane, Ozzy?! That’s my little sister, she needs to be protected- and if she’s coming into the business known as my sister, then she’s starting out with a target on her back!”

Oswald cracks a gruff smile as he leans back in his plush seat, reorganizing the paperwork now that it’s all been explained to The Nickleman.

“Think of it this way: who would be crazy enough to fuck with the Universal Champion’s little sister? She doesn’t need to be as good as Preston Vanderlay Esquire right out of the gate. She doesn’t even need to be as good as Clutch Cassidy! Not when her big brother holds the Big Gold.”

Charlie wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, a renewed sense of determination flowing through him.

“Damn, when you put it that way…I really need to win this fuckin’ match at Relentless. Last time I had the Universal Championship, I treated it like a toy to prop up my own faltering ego. But this time? I can’t be that selfish…after I win Big ‘Gold’ back from Dolly, I have to use it how it was meant to be used. I have to use it as a shield, to protect the entire XWF from the outsiders who want to lock us down- and I have to shield Jennie from anyone in this business who may want to harm her.”

Oswald nods in agreement, keeping his eyes peeled on the prison’s front doors while Charlie rambles.

“Our main event at Relentless is so much bigger than Kieran or Dolly could ever understand. While they’re busy bickering about their egos and filming their fairytale vignettes, I’m out here growing The Corporation and tipping the scales- one Nichols Brood at a time.

Dolly and Kieran might think I’m wasting my time on some family vacation, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. While they waste their time before the match playing pretend, I’m out here in the real world, rebuilding my universe brick by brick, exactly as I envision it should be.

Like only a real Universal Champion could.

And that’s why I’m going to walk away from Miami victorious, while they’re stuck up in the local hospital, pissin’ out each other’s blood.

I’m not Baron Nicklesworth, and I’m not whatever caricature Kieran’s studio team comes up with this week.

I’m Charlie fuckin’ Nickles- the most entertaining man in everyone’s vignette, on every show.

So when the last bell for Relentless finally rings, Dolly shouldn’t be surprised when the referee raises my hand into the heavens.

She should just be grateful.

Because if it weren’t for my iron-fist? The entire XWF would’ve crumbled, and shattered into pieces.

And if she doesn’t believe me?

Then she can just watch the way Kieran’s body crumbles once my iron-fists stop raining down on him!”

Charlie throws his head back with vicious laughter as Oswald more or less tunes him out. The XWF’s Billion Dollar Man keeps his eyes on the prison doors, when suddenly, he sees movement!

“Charlie, Charlie!”

The Nickleman tilts his head in the direction of Oswald’s extended finger.

“What is it, Ozzy?”

“Not what, Charlie- who.”

Oswald slowly lowers his finger as Charlie’s gaze finally falls upon the blonde-haired phenom in the orange jumpsuit. The Nickleman’s heart skips a beat as a soft smile slowly spreads across his bearded lips. Jennifer Nichols walks out the doors of the woman’s prison, pausing briefly once she feels the warm touch of the sun beating down on her tender face. She closes her eyes and smiles for the first time in years, letting the light’s embrace wash over her-

But her moment of peaceful serenity is quickly ruined by her big brother.

HONK! HONK!

Charlie’s crawled into the front seat of the limo, blaring on the horn as he screams out the window.

“HEY! JENNIE! OVER HERE!”

Oswald chuckles to himself as Jennie’s gaze darts towards the obnoxious Hummer limo. She rolls her eyes before walking towards the official Corporate ride, pulling open the back door for herself.

“Hop in, sis’!

Jennie hops into the backseat, swiftly shutting the door behind her. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the unexpected giant accompanying Charlie. Oswald just sits back, relaxing in the throwback whip as he meet’s Jennie's gaze.

“This is the official motor vehicle of The Brotherhood, so make yourself comfortable. You’re one of us now, Jennie.”

Jennie’s brow arches when Oswald flashes her the smirk of luxury living. Charlie turns the keys in the ignition, and the limo’s engine suddenly roars to life as a cloud of black smoke puffs up from the dual exhaust. Charlie lightly presses down on the gas, and the Hummer limo quickly pulls out of the prison’s parking lot. Jennie watches the prison fade into the distance before she finally settles in to get comfortable.

The Nickleman adjusts the rearview mirror, so that he can see his little sister sitting in the back.

“Hey, sis’…I just wanted to say- I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I never would’ve left Ohio if I had known the truth. That’s a promise…and, well- you already know that your big bro’ keeps those.”

Jennie meets Charlie’s gaze in the mirror as he smiles and winks at her. All she has to offer in response to his heartfelt apology is a slight twitch of the lip. And then-

She rolls up the limousine’s partition.

Charlie can’t help but smile, shaking his head as he chuckles softly to himself. He readjusts his rearview mirror, and then, he pushes the limousine’s pedal to the metal.

Now that he’s got his sister again, he has a whole Universe to take back.

“Next stop: Miami.”

]]> Following the events of “The Nichols Brood”

A stretch limousine roars down the highways of California at breakneck speed. The candy red gloss appears extra shiny as the sun’s rays reflect off the hummer’s paintjob. As the limo soars down the windy road, a local traffic sign catches the attention of the camera.

Chowchilla, California
Population: 19,669
Home of the Central California Women’s Facility

After resting on the sign for a few moments, the camera suddenly shifts perspective. Now, we are thrust right inside the red limousine itself!

“I’m telling you Ozzy, I know my sister! There’s no way she would do any of the shit they’ve accused her of.”

Oswald sighs to himself before turning back to face The Nickleman, who is seated opposite of him in the backseat. Charlie sips on a glass of red wine as he leans back on the plush leather seats.

“She pled guilty, Charlie.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me! The judicial system has a way of twisting people’s words, and making their stories fit some preconceived agenda. I know my sister was set-up. I’m proof-positive.”

Oswald just shrugs to himself as Charlie forces the rest of the wine down in one swift gulp.

“Hey man, you didn’t even know you had a sister until I told you just last week. How could you be proof-positive of anything about her?”

“I knew I had a sister, Oswald! I just didn’t know she was still alive. My parents told me she died in a house fire, but I always knew they were lying cunts! And now, you’ve given me all the proof I need.”

Charlie gestures towards the intelligence report Oswald had prepared for him, that’s still resting in the limo’s rear windowsill completely untouched.

“You didn’t even read my background report on her.”

Charlie leans forward, adjusting the red tie hanging around his neck as he speaks.

“I know my little baby sister, Ozzy. And besides, the only reason I haven’t read through your report is because I’ve been busy trying to save the XWF from complete market annihilation!”

Oswald rolls his eyes.

“Complete market annihilation? Riiight. I know you don’t like Dolly and Kieran, but come on, isn’t that a bit harsh?”

Charlie leans forward, resting his elbows on his fitted slacks as he stares straight ahead at Oswald.

“If anything, it’s not harsh enough! Dolly’s Union has been killing our bottom-line! Providing healthcare for every wrestler on the roster? Giving people their full paycheck, regardless of how much merch’ they sell? Reimbursing everyone’s travel expenses? If I don’t turn this ship around at Relentless, then we might not get another chance! The company itself will just go under if Dolly keeps getting her way!”

Oswald strokes his chin, nodding along in appreciation of Charlie’s fiscal acumen.

“And don’t even get me started on that Kieran motherf-“

Oswald raises his hand as the limousine comes to a complete stop. Charlie pauses midsentence as the brakes on the wheels screech until the tires completely halt.

“Oh trust me, I won’t.”

The driver of the limousine, an elderly fellow with decades of service to the XWF, turns back from the front seat to face Charlie and Ozzy.

“We’re here, fellas! The woman’s correctional facility in Chowchilla is just ahe-”

Charlie cracks a smarmy smirk as he leans back in his seat, rolling up the partition between the driver and the passengers. Then, Charlie turns his attention towards the scenery outside his window.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment for damn near 30 years…”

]]> <![CDATA[I Don't Wanna Stop]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49308 Fri, 19 Sep 2025 22:40:22 -0700 Barney Green]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49308 https://barneygreenxwf.angelfire.com/XWF12.html]]> https://barneygreenxwf.angelfire.com/XWF12.html]]> <![CDATA[Fear]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49307 Fri, 19 Sep 2025 22:28:38 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49307
Clearly I was inside a dream. A dream I hadn't had in several years. Placing one foot in front of the other, I took one slow step forward. Then another. And another as I led my soldiers through the desolate, burned out streets. I was young then. Far too young to be in the position I was in. Far too young to lead men into battle but all the same, they heeded my every command. They hung on every word I uttered. If I said shoot, they fired. If I said stop, they stopped. If I said carpet bomb the city… they carpet bombed the city. No decision was ever questioned. No order ever went unfollowed.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I was not immune and I am not indifferent to the things I had done.

As I led my men through the Roman streets, I heard a distant cry. I stopped and looked. I could hear it plain as day, a child. Yet no matter how quickly I walked, no matter how fast I chased the sound of that crying child, they never came any closer.

Buildings were toppled, crumbled, blown to pieces. Rome was a shadow of its former self and despite being late December, the fires that raged throughout the ancient city, raised the temperature considerably. Sweat beaded and rolled down my brow, dripping to my cheek and rolling to my lip.

In the dream, it was deathly quiet except the sound of my breath, the beat of my heart, and the cry of a strange child I'd never find.

”Gracie,” I said in my sleep.

”Baby,” Lucy shook me gently. ”Baby wake up. You're dreaming.”

My eyes sprung open, but I laid still as the two competing parts of my brain stayed at war in my head. One tried to convince me I was still dreaming, the other knew I was now awake.

I sat straight up and my sweat soaked hair clung to my face so tightly that dyed blond strands of curled hair stuck in my eyelashes.

”What?” I asked quietly as my conscious brain began to take hold.

”You were dreaming,” Lucy reminded me. ”You were talking in your sleep.”

Lucy sat up beside me and looked into my eyes with worry.

”I wanted to let you go, to let it run its course, but…”

”What was I saying?”

The time is nigh, Yorkie. You get to face your ‘big bad’ one last time and you call me a coward because I'm sure someone in your echo chamber of a circle jerk told you it was the right call, the wise call, the only call, really.

Because the one thing we all know about professional shoot wrestlers is that they're full of foolish pride, emboldened by ass kissing ego maniacs, and all the while they remain fragile as fuck.

That said, I'm about to school you in the world of Thaddeus Duke. I'm about to school you in what fear is. And it's not some supernatural scary entity. It's not some man with a microphone whose bark has always been better than his bite.

A man only knows fear, true fear, when he lives for something other than himself…

”Stop,” Lucy said as she began telling me the things I said in my sleep. ”On me,” Lucy stated.

”Take it down, the whole thing,” she said and I looked away in shame.

”Gracie,” she finished.

Instinctively, unconsciously almost, I began tracing the script tattoo on my left forearm, the body ink memorial of my daughter with Lauren that never lived. Sitting in bed, I pulled the blankets off, revealing my lower half. Every inch of me was drenched in sweat.

Lucy noticed my absent minded tracing and laid her hand gently on mine, tracing along with me.

”I’m soaked,” I smiled uncomfortably. ”I’m gonna shower.”

Leaning toward her, I placed a kiss on her cheek and felt her smile.

”Go back to sleep, I’ll be back in a bit,” I promised before I stepped out of bed and scurried to the bathroom.

Fact is, I get a good laugh when people call me a coward. As if professional shoot wrestling and the men and women that inhabit it are anything to fear. What is there to fear about them? They’re predominantly vile, vain creatures and no, I am no different. We put on masks and smile for the cameras. We sign items, take pics and kiss babies. Then we go home. Off to the clubs. Succumb to whatever vices our creator gave us.

Ken Davidson once called me a coward for leaving a tag match. Sure, he was my partner and yes if I could have done it differently, I would have. But there are things more important than wrestling that should always and will always be a bigger priority. That night in question, my oldest son took off on my Harley, then wrecked it and himself.

When you get that call?

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you’re at. Getting to that boy was my first and only priority.

That… was fear.

The thought of losing a child… that is my only real fear.

I’m a veteran of four wars, Yorkie. From air assaults to ground invasions, I was on the front lines for all of it. I’ve seen people I loved die. I’ve held mens guts in their bodies as they drew their final breaths, I’ve cried with men as they cried in pain and regret. I’ve been shot, shot at and shot down, Yorkie… And you think there’s something for me to fear about wrestling?

Silly little bitch.

If not fear, then why?

Ask yourself why I refused this match for so long, only to accept it at the eleventh hour.

Ask yourself why I refused this match for so long, only to give you what you wanted in the end.

Because… see, Yorkie… I was born into this business. I grew up in this business. I knew more about this business than most men two and three times my age even before I was of age myself. And there’s another common thing about the professional wrestling genre. Men and women that make their living in this world, they’re easy to bait when they don’t ever scratch through the surface.

I was a damn good strategist in my military days and I’m even better at it as a wrestler because while the vast majority stick to the script and adhere to the common tropes, guys like me, the few, the proud, the true greats of this business… and incidentally, not the ones that think they’re great but really only ingratiate themselves to their betters in hopes of a better spot and condemn folks for things that they themselves do… if you know, you know… They, and you, are surface dweller snakes waiting on opportunities to strike.

Greats like me, Yorkie. We set you up like pieces on a chess board and create the opportunity.

Is it becoming clearer yet?

Standing and drenched with water, I allowed the hot water drops to cascade like rainfall, washing away the sleep, washing away the dream that I could never forget. The dream itself was a recreation, a retelling, a reliving of a real scene.

War is ugly.

War is destruction.

War is a last resort political weapon to apply pressure to one’s perceived enemy.

When I say I was far too young to be in the position I was in, far too young to be barking orders, it’s because I was just a teenage kid, not much older than Frankie is now. When I stop and think about it, I try to replace myself with Frankie. As intelligent and savvy as he is when it comes to wrestling, I don’t think for a second that a boy his age or even close to it should be picking up arms and going to war. And I certainly don’t think a boy his age can effectively lead thousands upon thousands of soldiers in battle. Yet, it happened anyway.

Indoctrination is a terrible thing and no one is immune. Rich? Poor? Politically savvy? Men or women of the cloth? Educated? Not? Not a single man, woman or child is immune to being taught things from early ages that are inherently wrong.

By the time I had learned the truth about our purpose, it was too late. It was well into the Last War and by then, we were fighting strictly for the right to exist. We were fighting for our literal lives and before I became a father, I never gave a damn whether I lived or died. When I won the only title that mattered, being called dad, also late in the Last War, my perspective changed. See, I went on this journey of familial discovery and found that my entire family legacy outside of wrestling was built on lies but when you have people blowing up your house and trying to down your airplanes… when you have children, you have no choice but to keep fighting until it’s over. I didn’t have the luxury of negotiating a surrender and saying “hey actually we were wrong, sorry ‘bout that.” If I had had that option once I learned the truth, I’d have taken it.

Now that you’ve had time to think, to focus, to retrace your steps and mine, is it clear, Yorkie? Is it clear now why I accepted? Is it clear yet why I accepted only after denying you time after time after time for months and months?

Guys like you are so laser focused on what’s right in front of you that you never see what’s miles behind you. You never see what’s coming up along the side.

Three years ago when I signed at IIW, a promotion far below my station, it was guys like you chomping at the bit to mix it up with real talent. You poked and prodded. You made things personal. I denied you time and again until you were desperate. As soon as you were desperate, I had you where I wanted you then I dog walked you in seven minutes on Denzel Porter’s show.

You should’ve known where this was goin’, Yorkie. In your heart of hearts you know that the last thing I am is a coward yet that’s the path you chose to take. You know damn well how cerebral I am. You know damn well how good I am when my head is 100% in the game.

There’s few better and we both know it.

If you wanted it, first I’d make you desperate. Then when you knew you were close, I’d place a condition on it that I knew you would be too stupid to refuse.

And that, my friend, is why on Sunday in Miami, that fledgling little rinky dink company you built, belongs to the XWF.

I don’t have foolish pride, Yorkie. I couldn’t care less about when I win or lose because it doesn’t affect me. If I win? So what. Beating you does nothing for my hall of fame, legendary career. Losing to you wouldn’t have hurt me or helped me so the only thing left was the ability to take the one thing you loved. To take the one thing that makes you stand out, that makes you unique. To take the only thing left that makes you you.

Pro Wrestling Valor.

When I take it from you… what’s left?

After my shower, I dressed then gave my once again asleep fiance another kiss on her cheek before proceeding through the house. On my way downstairs, I stopped to check on the three things that have given my life its true purpose. Three kids that depend on my staying alive. The three reasons I have the best, most prestigious title in the world.

Downstairs, I cracked open a beer and turned on one of the 24/7 news channels. The television was muted, but I didn’t need sound to know what I was seeing. The once beautiful and full of life Gaza, now a war torn and decimated hellhole with bodies of non-combatant men, women and children strewn about.

But it’s not a genocide, they say.

It’s not a war crime.

Just then, I saw headlights pass across the windows at the front of my palatial Long Island home. I knew who it was and with Laika, the female King Carles Cavalier pup at my feet, I opened the front door then returned to the sofa and resumed watching. Moments later, Doctor Lewis DeVille stood at the doorway.

”Thanks for comin’ out,” I greeted him without taking my eyes from the screen.

”Well, you don’t drop by the office much anymore,” he said as he crossed the threshold and closed the front door behind him. ”I figured if you were calling me at two in the morning, you probably needed to talk.”

DeVille sat in a chair in the sitting room and directed his gaze to the TV.

”Terrible thing,” he sighed.

I merely nodded.

”They expect us to believe it’s not what it is because,” his voice trailed off.

”Because when you’re in a position of power,” I began. ”When you make life and death decisions like these, it’s easier to sleep at night when you tell yourself that those kids they’re killing would have one day picked up a gun or strapped on a vest and killed some of your people.”

DeVille observed, but said nothing as his eyes switched back and forth every few seconds from me to the television screen.

”We lie to ourselves, Doc,” I looked at him briefly, then back to the screen. ”It’s easier to detach from reality when you stop thinking of people as human beings and start thinking of them as vermin. As something that needs squashed.”

”I see some people rationalizing it,” Lewis began. ”That in Gaza, the Palestinian people would take people like you, Thaddeus. People on the rainbow spectrum and toss them off buildings.”

”I’ve seen that too,” I agreed. ”Maybe they would but it’s just how people convince themselves that genocide is okay.”

”It isn’t.”

”No,” I sighed. ”But we wrap in an Israeli flag and it’s okay because Israel.”

”You had the dream again?” he questioned with more inference than asking.

I nodded.

”The war torn Rome one.”

Again I nodded.

”What brought that about you think?”

”After dinner I was helping Frankie with his civics homework,” I told him. ”They’re covering world war two and the holocaust and he asked me why what Germany did in the 30’s and 40’s was condemned and called genocide but what was going on in Gaza wasn’t.”

”What did you tell him?” DeVille asked.

”The truth,” I looked at Doc. ”Because their skin is brown, not white.”

”It’s an uncomfortable truth, isn’t it?”

”It’s a fucked up truth is what it is.”

”How does that relate to the dream?” he asked.

What’s left after I beat you, York is… what you’ve always been and what you’ll always be… nothing.

Let’s circle back to cowardice for a minute, York. You called me a coward because for months and months I refused your challenge. Yet as soon as I accept and the stakes are raised to a level you never anticipated… you tank Pro Wrestling Valor and announce its closure. Do I have that right?

Nothing screams cowardice and knowing defeat louder and more profoundly than killing your company so I can’t take it from you.

So what happens next, Yorkie? After the sun sets, after the dust settles, after the lights go out and night three of Relentless goes quiet? What happens when all your friends are gone, your company is gone… and there’s nothing left for you?

You’ll do what you always do.

You’ll do the only thing you’ve ever done when the lights were too bright, when the spotlight shined its brightest… slink away because the little dog can not, has not, will never hang with the big dog.

[gold]”All wars are crimes, Doc,” I began.

”Are they?” he questioned.

I sat quietly for a few moments and reflected on days gone by. Yes, it’s true, I rebelled against my father because he acted on faulty, unconfirmed intelligence and targeted a building that turned out to be a school. Yes, I ordered the bombing of cities and towns. No, I never once and would never target civilian buildings but what we call collateral damage, were living breathing human beings.

”You take in so much information,” I began. ”You’re quite literally fighting for your very right to survive, to live among the other people and nations of the world. You receive the best advice from the best advisers, you have the most concrete intelligence that you can gather…”

I paused further.

”Even in the most righteous of conflicts, civilians die.”

”Wouldn’t you say that…”

”I don’t try and rationalize it, Doc. I don’t spin it,” I looked over to him again. ”Missile strikes or bombings in isolated areas are one thing. When you start sending missiles and bombs into towns, villages and cities, the cost of war isn’t measured in flag draped coffins but in the destroyed lives and decimated families of the peaceful.”

”There are those that say that an atheist can’t have a moral compass,” he suggested.

”Those people are idiots,” I dismissed the rhetoric. ”I don’t need a book to tell me what’s right and wrong. I don’t use the power that a book holds to justify my hate and bigotry. I don’t need military intelligence reports to know that when you send missiles into a densely populated city that no matter how much you wish it weren’t the case, innocent people die. Absent a declaration of war altogether, it’s unavoidable.”

”And in…”

”They’ve razed cities to the fucking ground, Doc. No one can tell me that it’s not genocide. They’re intentionally targeting civilians and no matter how much they deny it, no matter how righteous and what idiotic transparent excuse they use…”

”They were attacked, Thaddeus,” he argued for arguments sake.

”Have you ever been to Israel, Doc?” I asked. ”I’ve never been inside the walls, but I’ve been to their borders. You can’t even get close to the border without encountering segments of the Israeli Defense Force.”

”What are you saying?”

”I’m saying they let it happen in order to justify the ethnic cleansing, and that’s what it is, of Gaza.”

”Does it make you feel better or worse about your own wars?”

”All wars are crimes Doc. Civilians die. It’s an unavoidable cost of war and the world looks the other way when the perpetrators are western aligned.”

”If you could go back and do it differently?

”That’s the question, isn’t it?” I replied. ”If I knew then what I know now? I’d have left my family business. But I didn’t know, so I couldn’t.”

”You can’t change what happened Thaddeus,” he reminded me. ”Like you said, you gather…”

’War is ugly, Doc,” I interrupted. ”It’s easy to sit behind a computer screen in judgment of those making these decisions. When you’re in the thick of it, you don’t have the luxury of time. You don’t have the luxury of confirming everything.

”Thing is… even though my perspective of things have changed and my views are far more liberal than they were when I was a teenager, I’m not sure I could choose differently. I was responsible for the right to live of more than a quarter million people and while that pales in comparison to Gaza, Israel, the U.S., it's still one hefty burden. Especially for a kid that shouldn’t have been where he was.

[gold]”If I don’t deliver those orders, what happens to me?” I asked rhetorically. ”It’s not about my own self preservation. Frankie’s birth parents are dead. If I’m gone, then what happened to him? If I’m gone, Livvy and T.J. don’t exist.”

”But you’re not gone, so why think about it?”

”I don’t know,” I sat in thought. ”Lucy woke me up while I was dreaming. In the dream, I chased a young scream. Lucy said I said Gracie.”

”Your daughter with Lauren?”

I nodded.

”I think your brain is melding the two things together,” he explained. ”You’re equating the loss of Gracie to the loss of other people's children.”

”Maybe it was karma,” I suggested. ”I knew the risks and sent them anyway. I no doubt took kids away from their parents for all time. Maybe I was meant to know how it felt to have a child taken from you.”

”For an atheist, you sure do put a lot of thought into divine intervention.”

”I don’t call it divine. The Universe has its way of eventually equaling things out.”

He stood up, preparing to leave.

”You had all the answers, Thaddeus,” he suggested. ”Why’d you call me?”

”I just wanted to talk but I didn’t want to wake Lucy again.”

”Good night, Thaddeus.”

”G’night Doc.”]]>
Clearly I was inside a dream. A dream I hadn't had in several years. Placing one foot in front of the other, I took one slow step forward. Then another. And another as I led my soldiers through the desolate, burned out streets. I was young then. Far too young to be in the position I was in. Far too young to lead men into battle but all the same, they heeded my every command. They hung on every word I uttered. If I said shoot, they fired. If I said stop, they stopped. If I said carpet bomb the city… they carpet bombed the city. No decision was ever questioned. No order ever went unfollowed.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I was not immune and I am not indifferent to the things I had done.

As I led my men through the Roman streets, I heard a distant cry. I stopped and looked. I could hear it plain as day, a child. Yet no matter how quickly I walked, no matter how fast I chased the sound of that crying child, they never came any closer.

Buildings were toppled, crumbled, blown to pieces. Rome was a shadow of its former self and despite being late December, the fires that raged throughout the ancient city, raised the temperature considerably. Sweat beaded and rolled down my brow, dripping to my cheek and rolling to my lip.

In the dream, it was deathly quiet except the sound of my breath, the beat of my heart, and the cry of a strange child I'd never find.

”Gracie,” I said in my sleep.

”Baby,” Lucy shook me gently. ”Baby wake up. You're dreaming.”

My eyes sprung open, but I laid still as the two competing parts of my brain stayed at war in my head. One tried to convince me I was still dreaming, the other knew I was now awake.

I sat straight up and my sweat soaked hair clung to my face so tightly that dyed blond strands of curled hair stuck in my eyelashes.

”What?” I asked quietly as my conscious brain began to take hold.

”You were dreaming,” Lucy reminded me. ”You were talking in your sleep.”

Lucy sat up beside me and looked into my eyes with worry.

”I wanted to let you go, to let it run its course, but…”

”What was I saying?”

[gold]”All wars are crimes, Doc,” I began.

”Are they?” he questioned.

I sat quietly for a few moments and reflected on days gone by. Yes, it’s true, I rebelled against my father because he acted on faulty, unconfirmed intelligence and targeted a building that turned out to be a school. Yes, I ordered the bombing of cities and towns. No, I never once and would never target civilian buildings but what we call collateral damage, were living breathing human beings.

”You take in so much information,” I began. ”You’re quite literally fighting for your very right to survive, to live among the other people and nations of the world. You receive the best advice from the best advisers, you have the most concrete intelligence that you can gather…”

I paused further.

”Even in the most righteous of conflicts, civilians die.”

”Wouldn’t you say that…”

”I don’t try and rationalize it, Doc. I don’t spin it,” I looked over to him again. ”Missile strikes or bombings in isolated areas are one thing. When you start sending missiles and bombs into towns, villages and cities, the cost of war isn’t measured in flag draped coffins but in the destroyed lives and decimated families of the peaceful.”

”There are those that say that an atheist can’t have a moral compass,” he suggested.

”Those people are idiots,” I dismissed the rhetoric. ”I don’t need a book to tell me what’s right and wrong. I don’t use the power that a book holds to justify my hate and bigotry. I don’t need military intelligence reports to know that when you send missiles into a densely populated city that no matter how much you wish it weren’t the case, innocent people die. Absent a declaration of war altogether, it’s unavoidable.”

”And in…”

”They’ve razed cities to the fucking ground, Doc. No one can tell me that it’s not genocide. They’re intentionally targeting civilians and no matter how much they deny it, no matter how righteous and what idiotic transparent excuse they use…”

”They were attacked, Thaddeus,” he argued for arguments sake.

”Have you ever been to Israel, Doc?” I asked. ”I’ve never been inside the walls, but I’ve been to their borders. You can’t even get close to the border without encountering segments of the Israeli Defense Force.”

”What are you saying?”

”I’m saying they let it happen in order to justify the ethnic cleansing, and that’s what it is, of Gaza.”

”Does it make you feel better or worse about your own wars?”

”All wars are crimes Doc. Civilians die. It’s an unavoidable cost of war and the world looks the other way when the perpetrators are western aligned.”

”If you could go back and do it differently?

”That’s the question, isn’t it?” I replied. ”If I knew then what I know now? I’d have left my family business. But I didn’t know, so I couldn’t.”

”You can’t change what happened Thaddeus,” he reminded me. ”Like you said, you gather…”

’War is ugly, Doc,” I interrupted. ”It’s easy to sit behind a computer screen in judgment of those making these decisions. When you’re in the thick of it, you don’t have the luxury of time. You don’t have the luxury of confirming everything.

”Thing is… even though my perspective of things have changed and my views are far more liberal than they were when I was a teenager, I’m not sure I could choose differently. I was responsible for the right to live of more than a quarter million people and while that pales in comparison to Gaza, Israel, the U.S., it's still one hefty burden. Especially for a kid that shouldn’t have been where he was.

[gold]”If I don’t deliver those orders, what happens to me?” I asked rhetorically. ”It’s not about my own self preservation. Frankie’s birth parents are dead. If I’m gone, then what happened to him? If I’m gone, Livvy and T.J. don’t exist.”

”But you’re not gone, so why think about it?”

”I don’t know,” I sat in thought. ”Lucy woke me up while I was dreaming. In the dream, I chased a young scream. Lucy said I said Gracie.”

”Your daughter with Lauren?”

I nodded.

”I think your brain is melding the two things together,” he explained. ”You’re equating the loss of Gracie to the loss of other people's children.”

”Maybe it was karma,” I suggested. ”I knew the risks and sent them anyway. I no doubt took kids away from their parents for all time. Maybe I was meant to know how it felt to have a child taken from you.”

”For an atheist, you sure do put a lot of thought into divine intervention.”

”I don’t call it divine. The Universe has its way of eventually equaling things out.”

He stood up, preparing to leave.

”You had all the answers, Thaddeus,” he suggested. ”Why’d you call me?”

”I just wanted to talk but I didn’t want to wake Lucy again.”

”Good night, Thaddeus.”

”G’night Doc.”]]> <![CDATA[IDENTITY THEFT IS NOT A JOKE, COREY]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49306 Fri, 19 Sep 2025 21:40:56 -0700 Mark Flynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49306 Quote:I’ve been playing Graves for the last year.

Me. No one else.

’Micheal Graves’ Presents…

Corey Smith

A BusinessMan boards an elevator.

”Hold, please!” A BusinessWoman desperately jogs!

BM holds the Open button.

BW slides inside.

”Heheh… my hero.”

BM bashfully grins.

”THAT WAS ME.”

…Both turn.

Within the elevator…

Mark Flynn ’Micheal Graves’ COREY SMITH!

…Well, ‘Graves’ wearing a cut-out Corey mask… OVER his Dark Warrior mask.

”I HELD THE ELEVATOR.”

…BW, befuddled by this strange stranger, points to BM.

”But… *he* pressed the button…”

She rotates toward ‘Corey’.

…He’s gone.

”Wh…where’d he go?” BW asks her ‘hero’...

But… In her ‘hero’’s place?

‘Corey’.

Wearing BM’s business-suit.

”MUST’VE LEFT! ANYWAY….”

‘Smith’ grabs her shoulders.

“YOU CALLED ME YOUR HERO.”

Ding! The elevator opens!

”Ahhhhhhhhhh!” BW flees!

”CELEBRATE MEEEEEEE!”

”Meooooooooow.”

A cat stuck up a tree…

From his crane, a fireman retrieves the feline…

He gently cradles the creature as the crane descends.

A geriatric eagerly reaches…

”You saved Whiskers!” She hugs her pet.

”Just part of the j-”

WHACK!

Imagine a sound titled Unconscious_man_being_dragged_across_grass_behind_tree.mp3.

”Whazzat?” The geriatric glances up.

‘Corey’’s sporting the fireman’s hat.

”PART OF THE JOB INCLUDES BEING THANKED.”

“PROCEED.”

The geriatric squints through her thick lenses.

”...Well, Thanks!”

”ooooooooooohohohohohoh…”

”That’s good shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.” ‘Corey’ moans…

”Whiskers…” The geriatric preens Whiskers’ whiskers. ”We’ve been inseparable since I rescued him.”

Two joggers-by pause! ”Awwww, he’s a rescue?”

…’Corey’’s eyes immediately constrict.

The joggers smile at each-other.

”So noble, ma’am!”

WHACK!

This time, imagine Old_woman_dragged_across_grass_behind_tree_and_when_shes_dropped_you_distinctly_hear_a_hip_pop.m4a

.

The women look back.

…Fireman ‘Corey’’s donned the geriatric’s thick lenses.

”I’M MRS. CAT-RESCUER.”

“PRAISE ME!”

…The women wisely jog away.

”WAIT!” Corey lifts Whiskers, undeniable evidence of his benevolence. ”I RESCUED… WHISKEY?”

“…WHITNEY?”

“...WALT WHITMAN?”

Two wrestling unionists greet fans outside a union-sponsored event!

”Thanks for supporting local wrestling!”

”Enjoy the show!”

The fans gladly shake the unionists' hands as they file in.

”This is amazing!” The lady-unionist beams. “Fans love the wrestling-labor movement!”

”You’ve done amazing work.” Her friend squeezes her shoulder. ”Dolly’d be proud.”

”Don’t thank *me*.” She smiles humbly. “This movement isn’t one of us. It’s all of u-”

”THIS MOVEMENT IS ME! THAT’S *MY* SHOULDER-PAT.”

‘Corey’ emerges from the sewer below.

”...What?”

”I DESERVE IT! I INVENTED SOCIALISM IN WRESTLING!”

”...Oh, look.” The lady-grappler checks her bare wrist... ”Show’s starting...”

The pair awkwardly side-steps away…

…

’Corey’ stoops, dejectedly.

”Why don’t they acknowledge me…”

…The lady-grappler peers backwards. She waves her friend onward.

“I’M the longest-reigning Anarchy Champion!”

Fact-Check: ‘Graves’ is.

“*I* wrestled Thad in a Five-Star match!

Fact-Check: That’s Flynn. And Corey cashed-in *expressly* to spoil it. Seriously.

”Pleeeeease. Love meeeeeee…”

Suddenly, a hand touches ‘Corey’’s shoulder.

”Corey?”

The lady-grappler kneels beside him.

”...YOU’VE accomplished so much...”

“Uni champ!”

“WarGames winner!”

“Longest-reigning Supercontinental champion!”

”…Why steal other people’s accomplishments?”

“Our Revolution?”

”It’s not about lifting ONE of us… But, ALL of us.”

…What happened next?

In Coreytopia, they say…

Corey’s small heart grew three siz-

WHAM!

…Never mind, he just Pain-De-Lux’d the girl’s skull.

Now, he’s… rubbing her unconscious shoulder to... Steal that earlier back-pat?

”GIMMEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Scientists estimate, by 2032, Corey will claim credit for half of all XWFer accomplishments.

StopCoreySmith.com

How DARE you, Corey.

SNAKE.

THIEF.

Trying to STEAL a YEAR OF MY CAREER.

Quote:I’ve been playing Michael Graves for the last year.

Suuuuuuuuure.

Corey’s ‘Micheal Graves’.

Not like there’s VIDEO EVIDENCE of ‘Graves’’s unmasking at Relentless 2024.

Quote:

BG: "IT’S MARK FLYNN! Madison was right!”

”Not like you admitted Flynn is Graves IN YOUR OWN PROMO, Corlando!”

“YOU said FLYNN lied about Dolly and BR?”

Quote:making shit up about how she wanted to make nice with Black Rainbow

”When that line… CAME FROM ‘MICHEAL GRAVES’.”

Quote:It’s me. No one else.

“I puzzled, Cornholio.”

“Why would COREY pretend to be ME?”

“After all..”

Quote:masquerading as Michael Graves completely nullifies any good the man has been doing

[orange]“Quoth the ENGINEER’s spawn.”

“...Nullified, huh?”

“Look, I ain't Flynn.”

“I’m Gravy.”

“...But.”

“Hypothetically?”

“*Were* I Flynn?”

“I’ve been someone I’d hope my son could be proud of.”

“I’ve dedicated everything I’ve done to NK.

Quote:...My pal, Mark Flynn, has a near-two-year-old now.

…I just try to make it better for everybody and hope it reaches him

“I resisted corruption.”

“I rejected injustice.”

“I got beat-down… A LOT.”

“But I always ran to battle alongside my co-Revolutionaries.”

…

“Not to mention my...”

“THREE-HUNDRED-AND-SIXTY-FOUR-DAY REIGN!”

“ONE DAY from the FIRST-EVER YEAR-LONG TITLE REIGN.”

“Something no one’s done in the XWF’S TWENTY-SIX YEAR HISTORY.”

…

“THAT’S when it hit me.”

“Corey wants to be ‘Graves.’”

“Because Corey wants to reap Graves’ reward.”

“I sweat… bled… vomited… through this marathon…”

“And Corey wants the wheel five feet from the finish line.”

“Celebrating as ticker tape falls and champagne corks pop.”

“You don’t have the common decency to try and end my reign.”

“You’d rather OCCUPY it.”

“INVADE it.”

“…Kinda like…”

“THE ENGINEER.”

“...That’s you, Corey.”

“The PREDATOR cashing in on your best friend’s Relentless moment cuz it wasn’t about you.”

Quote:I did however need it to take Thad Duke’s big Relentless moment and give it the old “You Can’t Do That on Television” treatment.

“The SNAKE demeaning your dearest friend for daring to compete with you.”

Quote:Dolly, when’s the last time you TOUCHED a big-time main-event match?

’Micheal Graves’ Presents…

Corey Smith

Imagine a sound titled Unconscious_man_being_dragged_across_grass_behind_tree.mp3.

This time, imagine Old_woman_dragged_across_grass_behind_tree_and_when_shes_dropped_you_distinctly_hear_a_hip_pop.m4a

Fact-Check: ‘Graves’ is.

“*I* wrestled Thad in a Five-Star match!

Fact-Check: That’s Flynn. And Corey cashed-in *expressly* to spoil it. Seriously.

Scientists estimate, by 2032, Corey will claim credit for half of all XWFer accomplishments.

StopCoreySmith.com

How DARE you, Corey.

SNAKE.

THIEF.

Trying to STEAL a YEAR OF MY CAREER.

Quote:I’ve been playing Michael Graves for the last year.

Suuuuuuuuure.

Corey’s ‘Micheal Graves’.

Not like there’s VIDEO EVIDENCE of ‘Graves’’s unmasking at Relentless 2024.

Quote:

BG: "IT’S MARK FLYNN! Madison was right!”

”Not like you admitted Flynn is Graves IN YOUR OWN PROMO, Corlando!”

“YOU said FLYNN lied about Dolly and BR?”

Quote:making shit up about how she wanted to make nice with Black Rainbow

”When that line… CAME FROM ‘MICHEAL GRAVES’.”

Quote:It’s me. No one else.

“I puzzled, Cornholio.”

“Why would COREY pretend to be ME?”

“After all..”

Quote:masquerading as Michael Graves completely nullifies any good the man has been doing

Quote:...My pal, Mark Flynn, has a near-two-year-old now.

…I just try to make it better for everybody and hope it reaches him

“THE ENGINEER.”

“...That’s you, Corey.”

“The PREDATOR cashing in on your best friend’s Relentless moment cuz it wasn’t about you.”

Quote:I did however need it to take Thad Duke’s big Relentless moment and give it the old “You Can’t Do That on Television” treatment.

“The SNAKE demeaning your dearest friend for daring to compete with you.”

Quote:Dolly, when’s the last time you TOUCHED a big-time main-event match?

”And now? You’re seizing ‘Micheal Graves’?”

…

”Like how Engy commandeered your body.”

”Made you do those awful things...”

“Hurt your friends...”

“Betray your allies...”

…

”Wait.”

“Bright’s dead...”

“AND YOU STILL DO THOSE THINGS!”

”Yes, Corey.”

“Engy controlled you.”

“Once.”

“Now? He’s dead. But the Engineer’s designs persist in you.”

“Stealing another’s identity for your self-glorification? Classic Engy.”

“You’ve spent years as a vehicle, driven by the genuinely-talented.”

“...Now? You’re a hollowed-out husk.”

“Wearing other people’s faces to have an identity.”

…

“So.”

“How do we punish this… thief?”

“I unveil you.”

“Dismiss that illusory pretty-boy charm.”

“Strip away your ancient accomplishments.”

“And reveal.”

“Deeeeeeeeeep-down?”

“You’re nothing.”]]> <![CDATA[Friendly Faces - Posted For Seb vs Isaiah King (allegedly)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49305 Fri, 19 Sep 2025 19:44:01 -0700 Thaddeus Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49305 Friendly Faces]]> Friendly Faces]]> <![CDATA[Kieran King in: THE MISSING YEARS - Carnival]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49302 Fri, 19 Sep 2025 18:48:12 -0700 Kieran King]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49302 All sorts of bogeymen and literal monsters had played in that canvas playground: werewolves, demons, wizards, zombies—you name it! And yet there was something about the sweat-covered ropes and the blood-stained mat that Kieran found to be a great equaliser, despite the vast and theoretically terrifying power that some of the circus of freaks wielded.
Maybe it was magic.
Magic that Kieran was eager to recapture.

(word count: 8,311)

]]> All sorts of bogeymen and literal monsters had played in that canvas playground: werewolves, demons, wizards, zombies—you name it! And yet there was something about the sweat-covered ropes and the blood-stained mat that Kieran found to be a great equaliser, despite the vast and theoretically terrifying power that some of the circus of freaks wielded.
Maybe it was magic.
Magic that Kieran was eager to recapture.

(word count: 8,311)

]]> <![CDATA[The Line]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49304 Fri, 19 Sep 2025 17:21:03 -0700 Corey Smith]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=49304
The time before he chose to fall.

Pan held out a hand, smiling warmly. Where to?

I…I don’t know. To be honest I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never flown before.

Pan shrugged. I’ll do the hard stuff. You just close your eyes and believe.

Corey peered over the side. Looks like a lot of belief.

Do you believe in me?

Of course I do.

Then just take my hand.

After a moment’s nervous hesitation, Corey reached for it.

But something was wrong. Pan’s eyes started to fill with blood. His hand dropped. And his mouth yawned open unnaturally wide. A car alarm started wailing from deep within his throat.

Corey looked down and saw Pan’s broken body laying atop the crushed sedan.

Corey! Another voice called out. Lux. She ran to him, pulling him off the edge of the building and into her arms. It had just been an episode. Another one.

Jesus Corey, do you want to die?! Reproach. Fear.

I…I don’t know….

Lux held Corey out at arm’s length, shock pricking at her features. You don’t really think that way.

What? I….Corey looked askance, ashamed. No. I don’t want to die. A pause. His eyes glistening in the moonlight. I just miss him so much.

Lux bundled Corey up in an embrace. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say.

[Image: 360_F_564118868_gEEb9X6RYmNMKtAANT6Tje5WLZp32x6v.jpg]

Mark Flynn is a better wrestler than me. I’m not going to try to piss up your leg and tell you otherwise.

Mark’s funny too. Gotta hand him that.

In fact, Mark would be the total package if he didn’t fabricate, exaggerate and outright lie more times than a Black Rainbow member has crashed out.

“The king of logic? LYING?” Squeal the trained seals who clap their flippers together at his every verbal queef.

Well, of course.

Take his assertion that he stomped out Madison Dyson. Stomped her out to WHERE Mark? Further up the card until she became a double champion? And him maintaining that he de-fashed Lady Hitler? So much bullshit that even HE had to save face by mentioning Dolly’s name in the same breath.

Oh, and the “oh so original take” that I named Coreytopia? Maybe you should have done some more of your vaunted research because that too is ten pounds of bullshit in a Happy Meal bag. The people named it that.

You know. THE PEOPLE. All caps. The people you claim to serve now in the XWF. Fighting the good fight for fair pay and social justice and ragging on me for not doing it first. But just who are you fighting for, Mark? Look around you. Half the roster is inveterate scum bags. The other half are inexplicable millionaires. Meanwhile I’ve been putting in the REAL work YEARS before you decided to rehab your image. Helping the poor, the downtrodden, people whose families wouldn’t accept them because of who they chose to love. But hey, leave it up to Mark Flynn to act like he invented benevolence.

And then of course, the grandest lie of all. That I’m chasing my good friend Dolly’s clout. Which would make an iota of sense if I was on the marquee next to her name and not a notch below with you.

You wanna know why I’m here Mark? Oh, rest assured, it’s relevant as fuck.

I’m here because Dolly Waters INVITED me here. Because Dolly Waters was sick of seeing a broken hearted boy moping around the commune because he lost the love of his life. Because Dolly Waters was WORRIED about me and thought I needed the distraction, needed the roar of the crowd and the bright lights to rejuvenate my spirit. And it’s almost working.

But here’s where we reach the crux of the matter, Mark.

The part where you fucked up.

The part where you pulled back the mask, pun intended, and revealed just who and what Mark Flynn is forevermore.

Because here’s where you involved Pan in yet another of your tepid sitcom seal shows (hear the clapping?).

Pan’s dead, Mark.

Don’t you dare plead ignorance. You know everything else. You took the time to dredge up shit I said three years ago completely out of context.

You know he’s dead.

And you made him into just another patented Mark Flynn quip anyway.

Now I’m no angel. And I probably didn’t deserve Pan. You can have that one too.

But I know where the fucking line is. And I have common decency enough not to cross it!

You however? You couldn’t find the line with both hands if it snaked up your asshole. And that’s why, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be DECENT. You’ll never be TRUE.

You’ll never be GOOD.

And I’m going to PUNISH you for what you’ve done.

I said at the top of the hour you’re a better wrestler. And I meant it. But this? Not a wrestling match. Nah. This is me seeing how far I can dig my thumbs in your eye sockets. How many times I can stomp a knee cap before it fails. How much blood you lose before you wish you had had enough of a soul to not involve my dead boyfriend in some vapid punchline.

But hey Mark, it IS crunch time. So go ahead and post up that “chose your own adventure” promo. That snarky comedy video. That interactive game. Post up a promo that doubles as a Rube Goldberg machine for all I give a shit.

But aside from those clapping seals? The ones with sense? They know who’s speaking the truth. They know who doesn’t need to elicit a cheap laugh to verbally gut fuck the opposition.

They know who’s real and who needs to wear a mask.

[Image: dramatic-floating-mask-shattering-red-ve...389247.jpg]

]]>
The time before he chose to fall.

Pan held out a hand, smiling warmly. Where to?

I…I don’t know. To be honest I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never flown before.

Pan shrugged. I’ll do the hard stuff. You just close your eyes and believe.

Corey peered over the side. Looks like a lot of belief.

Do you believe in me?

Of course I do.

Then just take my hand.

After a moment’s nervous hesitation, Corey reached for it.

But something was wrong. Pan’s eyes started to fill with blood. His hand dropped. And his mouth yawned open unnaturally wide. A car alarm started wailing from deep within his throat.

Corey looked down and saw Pan’s broken body laying atop the crushed sedan.

Corey! Another voice called out. Lux. She ran to him, pulling him off the edge of the building and into her arms. It had just been an episode. Another one.

Jesus Corey, do you want to die?! Reproach. Fear.

I…I don’t know….

Lux held Corey out at arm’s length, shock pricking at her features. You don’t really think that way.

What? I….Corey looked askance, ashamed. No. I don’t want to die. A pause. His eyes glistening in the moonlight. I just miss him so much.

Lux bundled Corey up in an embrace. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say.

]]>