https://xwf1999.com/ Wed, 11 Nov 2026 01:13:15 +0000 MyBB https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50643 Tue, 10 Nov 2026 15:37:02 -0800 Jason Cashe]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50643 …Three Hours Before…

The silence that fell over the entirety of the van had a weight to it. By head count there were twelve people packed in the back and two up front. You could feel as well as hear the van rolling over the cemented road as it headed towards its destination.

The moon light peered in through the windshield and rear windows of the utility van that appeared windowless otherwise. There was a difficulty to see the faces of those along for the ride even as the eyes adjusted to the darkness.

One of the people seated in the  back began to stir as if the quietness was pestering their sanity. “Are we there yet?” The light the night provided gave a glimpse at the man trying to break the ice of hush.

Jason Cashe.

His face momentarily exposed from under a black hoodie with the hood snuggled over his head. Everyone wore similar gear but that was kind of the point. To blend in with the shadows of night.

Nobody responded at first. There were barely any movements other than that in which the vehicle caused as it hit the bumps in the pavement.

Finally, a voice from the front filled the space with sound. “Just about there.. Is everyone ready?” The man spoke from the passenger side. His head turned but his gaze stayed forward, never seeing his face.

Nobody responded to him either.

The van slowed as it pulled over to the side of the road. After completely coming to a stop, the engine was turned off and you could feel the settling of small vibrations that had become normalized during the drive.

“Bout time..” Cashe said at normal volume. Standing from the bench, the back area was crowded.

Not hardly enough space to stand or move around freely but Cashe was up and wanted out. The interior light came on like a lightbulb idea had by the vehicle itself. The passenger got out and shut the door which cut the light and sent everything back into darkness. Moments later, the back double doors to the van opened up.

Everyone exited and came into better viewing as Cashe waited for his turn to escape from the sardine can. As he drops to the gravel on the side of the road, his eyes scan the area. Industrial mostly. Warehouses clustered as far as the eye could see but they were not here for the warehouses.

“Wh-what is the purpose of Operation Blac–” One of the initiatives begins to question. Cashe slaps the back of the man’s head.

“That we don't talk about Operation Blackout!” Cashe scolds the man.

“But you just said it!”

“You have your assignments. Once you are finished, you are on your own.” The passenger who seemed to be running the operation spoke sternly. “We’ve got a job to do, a change will come from what we do here tonight people!” He pauses momentarily to pull a ski mask down over his face to hide his identity. “Let's get to work!”

Everyone with backpacks on and dressed in all black, began to scatter off in various directions. Cashe remained along with the passenger who seemed to be in control.

“You did good..” Cashe comments now that the two were alone at the back of the van. “Just make sure the trackers are on and we get this done, yeah?”

Nodding, the passenger now behind a ski mask nodded. “If anyone has cold feet, someone will be there to complete the task.”

“Good.” Cashe pulls his own backpack up and flings the strap over his shoulder. “I have to get inside the power station..” He motions over his shoulder towards the direction he needed to go.

“Need help?” The masked man asked with an offer behind it.

“Who are you talking to!?”

Spinning around, Cashe found the driver approaching. Cashe recognized him but wasn't sure from where. He felt confusion forming but quickly assumed it was due to not remembering the passenger’s name.

“Ummm.. What's your name again?” Turning to his previous conversation, Cashe found nobody standing there. “Say huh?”

Laughter creeps up behind him as the driver pats Cashe to the back before stepping around to his front. “You’re spaced out, my doood!”

“Jay, I'm not even high..” Cashe looks fully confused.

Scratching the side of his head, he seemed sure he had been talking to someone else before the driver showed up. “You all set?”

“I think so..” Cashe didn't seem sure now. He glanced around to try and locate the passenger but found nobody but the two of them. “I got everything I need, I just need you to help with the entry.”

Extending his arm and open palm, the driver slaps hands with Cashe. “Oh I got that covered!” They clap up as the driver nods with a strong nod. “Let's get it, me and you!”

©©©©©©©©

“War Games. One of those matches that seem to plague the business around the same time every year. It seems errryone and their cousins know a company holding a two ring, one cage themed bout.

It's essentially become Paint by Numbers and everyone ends up with the same picture at the end of the project.

XWF though?

It erases the numbers assigned and adds colors that you won't see in other places and that sets them apart from the crowd.

Multiple Teams. Elimination style that in some years have come down to a sole survivor or an effort won by those that can survive as a team. Not everyone will live to see the finish and some, like the Hixx and Blades of the world, aren't even allowed to participate.

It's truly dog eat dog..

So what dogs are loose on the block looking for a bone? What are the teams and who fills the depths of those rosters? Questions you have to ask heading into these types of events.

I know the details, everyone does and there is not enough time to say everyone's name but none of you bring fear like Candyman so individual call outs are less needed. I want to toss a net and catch all of you!. See, everyone not called victorious will be pawns that walk into this situation and end up the next highlight of someone else's reel. These matches are filled with those kinds of moments.

People like Graves or even Nickels, they get the nod because they have held flex on this roster for a number of years. Dickie Watson or Thunder Knuckles are the only two I can personally say I have had any history lessons with.

Baccus? Who fucking cares?

Am I supposed to focus on them though? Those I know or those I don't know better? Which is the right approach? Do I tell the tale of the one match Dickie and I have had in another promotion? I lost that match but I also wasn't feeling Elite at the time and now I am feeling like the itch you can't scratch or sooth found in your taint.

Who wins now?

I guess it depends on people, right?

TK and I have history, maybe more so than I have with anyone else in this match. From beating Bastards in OCW to losing to TK in my first XWF PPV, there was a respect built and potential for more that never got off the ground. Am I supposed to try and insult him because he's on another team? Tell him that Nickels isn't of equal value as an alcoholic beverage that isn't on tap anymore?

Maybe the history with people doesn't really matter in a match like this though..

So many moving parts..

So many victims in a game of victory..

End of the day, we are all in this to commit a crime. Of passion, of violence, of gain from pain and when it is all said and done.. You can climb the highest of mountains and find yourself tumbling down like Jack or Jill because you took one wrong step and found yourself broken from the fall.

The exciting part of matches like these isn't the opportunity to win but that the best talent in the world has their odds of success dwindled down with a chance of fuckery..

And I am all for some fuckery!

Let us Brawl for it all and see if the one who wins is someone expected or someone you don't see coming out on top at all! That is what makes these things a thrill ride!”

©©©©©©©©

It was a bumpy ride. A crash that was only intended to open the front door ended up taking the entire front wall crumbling down around the Utility van.

“GET ON THE FUCKING FLOOR!”

Cashe, aggressive in his tone. A pistol in his hand, shoved in the direction of one of the Security Guards on duty. Doing as he was instructed, the guard laid face down on the ground.

“Hands behind your head!” A follow up demand from Cashe. The guard followed orders. “Good boy..” Cashe said softly as he leaned forward, pointed the gun to the back of the guard’s head and pulled the trigger twice.

The body flinched before groaning like a yawn and going limp with a sigh.

Finding the elevator, Cashe moved towards the doors and knew his part of the plan was going as expected.

Ding..

The elevator opened and the ‘DiOGee’ entered the metal box. The room was mirrored with a few advertising posters taped about. He quickly pushed the button to get to where he needed to be. The command center. The system shut down computers and shutting that shit down was about to go down.

“Well, THAT was fun, wasn't it?”

Cashe turned and found that he wasn't alone. In the reflection of the mirrors he found a trio. The passenger and the driver from before were looking back at him from the other side of the mirrored walls of the elevator.

“I am you, Him is I and we are Me.. Do you understand, Cashe?”

Both of the reflections spoke in unison and with the same voice. Cashe looked uneasy as he wondered if he inhaled some toxin recently. The voice in his head, the Jason to his Cashe was looking back at him through the mirrors that surrounded him.

The elevator finally stopped. Cashe shakes off the disoriented state of mind and gets back to the task at hand. He steps out of the elevator as the doors open and finds another security guard, this one with his weapon already drawn.

“Hands up, scumbag!”

He was as round as he was tall. Sweating when it wasn't even hot and slowly moving backwards, unsure of his own grip to the gun he was pointing.

“Okay.. Okay.. Let's not get hasty..” Cashe says as he goes to show caution and surrender to the security guard.

©©©©©©©©

“War Games is just a Game of War but it is more of a button smasher than a tactical strategy game. People see the structure and get this sense of intimidation from the sheer size of it. Some feel imprisoned by it but those of us willing to participate are welcoming of those feelings.

There is a testament to one’s endurance. To their overall pain tolerance and we get to judge just how far someone will go WHILE being caged! Like animals often do but, must we become animals ourselves?

The answer is yes..

In this environment we strip away the sanity that makes us civilized..

If any of us were to begin with..

Not just anyone can compete in this setting and even less people can survive it on this stage. It is chaos and carnage and the very fear of GAWD can be found in the eyes of those who fall short.

The fallen, defeated, hope lost and it all can be found in the stare of those who end up suffering from their shortcomings.

If you hesitate against any of the names in this match during a regular bout, you end up with an L to your record but in here? Turning and finding yourself face to face with some of these names in a match of pure reckless abandonment? It might not just be a loss you take but a career that fails to continue. The rules of engagement are without restriction..

So I will fight..

I will bite..

I will kick and scratch, squeeze nuts and expect nurples to be purpled because this isn't a match of respect, it is one that requires the discipline of war and the preparation of death!

Basically, if you come for a battle then you’ve brought a knife to a gun fight and you're going to get swiss cheesed and left bleeding like a bloodletting…

I don't care if you're a former Uni Champion, in contention for it currently or are holding your 15th Extreme Title. I’m in this bitch to catch a body and I have a dark Pokemon mindset to stack them all until those left laying reach the ceiling of the cage! The plan, MY plan is simple and it is to have MY hand raised.. At the expense of those who have the hang lows to stand in front of me..

That goes for every ally, friend, honorary memberships and those I have never spoken too or had a match with before now! For every name with a syllable, I will aim like you're killable. Let's let the outcome come to light and see what transpired in the night!

I’m ready..

I’m excited!

Are you?”

©©©©©©©©

There was a ringing in the air as Cashe stood with a finger in his ear, wiggling it around. “Ahhhh..” His head tilted, he was trying to knock his hearing back. The ringing continued.

Getting close to normal, he slowly shakes his head from side to side. His eyes staring down at the guard slumped against a wall. Blood gushing out of a hole in the front of his throat.

“I said NOT to get hasty.. Now look at you..”

The ringing continued. Not from a shootout but from a cell phone. Finally, Cashe pulls it out from his hoodie. The caller ID reads: Juddster.

“Shhh..” He whistles as he looks from the guard to the elevator. Like he was speaking to the other voices that were plaguing him earlier. His own. “I have to take this call, be quiet.”]]> …Three Hours Before…

The silence that fell over the entirety of the van had a weight to it. By head count there were twelve people packed in the back and two up front. You could feel as well as hear the van rolling over the cemented road as it headed towards its destination.

The moon light peered in through the windshield and rear windows of the utility van that appeared windowless otherwise. There was a difficulty to see the faces of those along for the ride even as the eyes adjusted to the darkness.

One of the people seated in the  back began to stir as if the quietness was pestering their sanity. “Are we there yet?” The light the night provided gave a glimpse at the man trying to break the ice of hush.

Jason Cashe.

His face momentarily exposed from under a black hoodie with the hood snuggled over his head. Everyone wore similar gear but that was kind of the point. To blend in with the shadows of night.

Nobody responded at first. There were barely any movements other than that in which the vehicle caused as it hit the bumps in the pavement.

Finally, a voice from the front filled the space with sound. “Just about there.. Is everyone ready?” The man spoke from the passenger side. His head turned but his gaze stayed forward, never seeing his face.

Nobody responded to him either.

The van slowed as it pulled over to the side of the road. After completely coming to a stop, the engine was turned off and you could feel the settling of small vibrations that had become normalized during the drive.

“Bout time..” Cashe said at normal volume. Standing from the bench, the back area was crowded.

Not hardly enough space to stand or move around freely but Cashe was up and wanted out. The interior light came on like a lightbulb idea had by the vehicle itself. The passenger got out and shut the door which cut the light and sent everything back into darkness. Moments later, the back double doors to the van opened up.

Everyone exited and came into better viewing as Cashe waited for his turn to escape from the sardine can. As he drops to the gravel on the side of the road, his eyes scan the area. Industrial mostly. Warehouses clustered as far as the eye could see but they were not here for the warehouses.

“Wh-what is the purpose of Operation Blac–” One of the initiatives begins to question. Cashe slaps the back of the man’s head.

“That we don't talk about Operation Blackout!” Cashe scolds the man.

“But you just said it!”

“You have your assignments. Once you are finished, you are on your own.” The passenger who seemed to be running the operation spoke sternly. “We’ve got a job to do, a change will come from what we do here tonight people!” He pauses momentarily to pull a ski mask down over his face to hide his identity. “Let's get to work!”

Everyone with backpacks on and dressed in all black, began to scatter off in various directions. Cashe remained along with the passenger who seemed to be in control.

“You did good..” Cashe comments now that the two were alone at the back of the van. “Just make sure the trackers are on and we get this done, yeah?”

Nodding, the passenger now behind a ski mask nodded. “If anyone has cold feet, someone will be there to complete the task.”

“Good.” Cashe pulls his own backpack up and flings the strap over his shoulder. “I have to get inside the power station..” He motions over his shoulder towards the direction he needed to go.

“Need help?” The masked man asked with an offer behind it.

“Who are you talking to!?”

Spinning around, Cashe found the driver approaching. Cashe recognized him but wasn't sure from where. He felt confusion forming but quickly assumed it was due to not remembering the passenger’s name.

“Ummm.. What's your name again?” Turning to his previous conversation, Cashe found nobody standing there. “Say huh?”

Laughter creeps up behind him as the driver pats Cashe to the back before stepping around to his front. “You’re spaced out, my doood!”

“Jay, I'm not even high..” Cashe looks fully confused.

Scratching the side of his head, he seemed sure he had been talking to someone else before the driver showed up. “You all set?”

“I think so..” Cashe didn't seem sure now. He glanced around to try and locate the passenger but found nobody but the two of them. “I got everything I need, I just need you to help with the entry.”

Extending his arm and open palm, the driver slaps hands with Cashe. “Oh I got that covered!” They clap up as the driver nods with a strong nod. “Let's get it, me and you!”

©©©©©©©©

“War Games. One of those matches that seem to plague the business around the same time every year. It seems errryone and their cousins know a company holding a two ring, one cage themed bout.

It's essentially become Paint by Numbers and everyone ends up with the same picture at the end of the project.

XWF though?

It erases the numbers assigned and adds colors that you won't see in other places and that sets them apart from the crowd.

Multiple Teams. Elimination style that in some years have come down to a sole survivor or an effort won by those that can survive as a team. Not everyone will live to see the finish and some, like the Hixx and Blades of the world, aren't even allowed to participate.

It's truly dog eat dog..

So what dogs are loose on the block looking for a bone? What are the teams and who fills the depths of those rosters? Questions you have to ask heading into these types of events.

I know the details, everyone does and there is not enough time to say everyone's name but none of you bring fear like Candyman so individual call outs are less needed. I want to toss a net and catch all of you!. See, everyone not called victorious will be pawns that walk into this situation and end up the next highlight of someone else's reel. These matches are filled with those kinds of moments.

People like Graves or even Nickels, they get the nod because they have held flex on this roster for a number of years. Dickie Watson or Thunder Knuckles are the only two I can personally say I have had any history lessons with.

Baccus? Who fucking cares?

Am I supposed to focus on them though? Those I know or those I don't know better? Which is the right approach? Do I tell the tale of the one match Dickie and I have had in another promotion? I lost that match but I also wasn't feeling Elite at the time and now I am feeling like the itch you can't scratch or sooth found in your taint.

Who wins now?

I guess it depends on people, right?

TK and I have history, maybe more so than I have with anyone else in this match. From beating Bastards in OCW to losing to TK in my first XWF PPV, there was a respect built and potential for more that never got off the ground. Am I supposed to try and insult him because he's on another team? Tell him that Nickels isn't of equal value as an alcoholic beverage that isn't on tap anymore?

Maybe the history with people doesn't really matter in a match like this though..

So many moving parts..

So many victims in a game of victory..

End of the day, we are all in this to commit a crime. Of passion, of violence, of gain from pain and when it is all said and done.. You can climb the highest of mountains and find yourself tumbling down like Jack or Jill because you took one wrong step and found yourself broken from the fall.

The exciting part of matches like these isn't the opportunity to win but that the best talent in the world has their odds of success dwindled down with a chance of fuckery..

And I am all for some fuckery!

Let us Brawl for it all and see if the one who wins is someone expected or someone you don't see coming out on top at all! That is what makes these things a thrill ride!”

©©©©©©©©

It was a bumpy ride. A crash that was only intended to open the front door ended up taking the entire front wall crumbling down around the Utility van.

“GET ON THE FUCKING FLOOR!”

Cashe, aggressive in his tone. A pistol in his hand, shoved in the direction of one of the Security Guards on duty. Doing as he was instructed, the guard laid face down on the ground.

“Hands behind your head!” A follow up demand from Cashe. The guard followed orders. “Good boy..” Cashe said softly as he leaned forward, pointed the gun to the back of the guard’s head and pulled the trigger twice.

The body flinched before groaning like a yawn and going limp with a sigh.

Finding the elevator, Cashe moved towards the doors and knew his part of the plan was going as expected.

Ding..

The elevator opened and the ‘DiOGee’ entered the metal box. The room was mirrored with a few advertising posters taped about. He quickly pushed the button to get to where he needed to be. The command center. The system shut down computers and shutting that shit down was about to go down.

“Well, THAT was fun, wasn't it?”

Cashe turned and found that he wasn't alone. In the reflection of the mirrors he found a trio. The passenger and the driver from before were looking back at him from the other side of the mirrored walls of the elevator.

“I am you, Him is I and we are Me.. Do you understand, Cashe?”

Both of the reflections spoke in unison and with the same voice. Cashe looked uneasy as he wondered if he inhaled some toxin recently. The voice in his head, the Jason to his Cashe was looking back at him through the mirrors that surrounded him.

The elevator finally stopped. Cashe shakes off the disoriented state of mind and gets back to the task at hand. He steps out of the elevator as the doors open and finds another security guard, this one with his weapon already drawn.

“Hands up, scumbag!”

He was as round as he was tall. Sweating when it wasn't even hot and slowly moving backwards, unsure of his own grip to the gun he was pointing.

“Okay.. Okay.. Let's not get hasty..” Cashe says as he goes to show caution and surrender to the security guard.

©©©©©©©©

“War Games is just a Game of War but it is more of a button smasher than a tactical strategy game. People see the structure and get this sense of intimidation from the sheer size of it. Some feel imprisoned by it but those of us willing to participate are welcoming of those feelings.

There is a testament to one’s endurance. To their overall pain tolerance and we get to judge just how far someone will go WHILE being caged! Like animals often do but, must we become animals ourselves?

The answer is yes..

In this environment we strip away the sanity that makes us civilized..

If any of us were to begin with..

Not just anyone can compete in this setting and even less people can survive it on this stage. It is chaos and carnage and the very fear of GAWD can be found in the eyes of those who fall short.

The fallen, defeated, hope lost and it all can be found in the stare of those who end up suffering from their shortcomings.

If you hesitate against any of the names in this match during a regular bout, you end up with an L to your record but in here? Turning and finding yourself face to face with some of these names in a match of pure reckless abandonment? It might not just be a loss you take but a career that fails to continue. The rules of engagement are without restriction..

So I will fight..

I will bite..

I will kick and scratch, squeeze nuts and expect nurples to be purpled because this isn't a match of respect, it is one that requires the discipline of war and the preparation of death!

Basically, if you come for a battle then you’ve brought a knife to a gun fight and you're going to get swiss cheesed and left bleeding like a bloodletting…

I don't care if you're a former Uni Champion, in contention for it currently or are holding your 15th Extreme Title. I’m in this bitch to catch a body and I have a dark Pokemon mindset to stack them all until those left laying reach the ceiling of the cage! The plan, MY plan is simple and it is to have MY hand raised.. At the expense of those who have the hang lows to stand in front of me..

That goes for every ally, friend, honorary memberships and those I have never spoken too or had a match with before now! For every name with a syllable, I will aim like you're killable. Let's let the outcome come to light and see what transpired in the night!

I’m ready..

I’m excited!

Are you?”

©©©©©©©©

There was a ringing in the air as Cashe stood with a finger in his ear, wiggling it around. “Ahhhh..” His head tilted, he was trying to knock his hearing back. The ringing continued.

Getting close to normal, he slowly shakes his head from side to side. His eyes staring down at the guard slumped against a wall. Blood gushing out of a hole in the front of his throat.

“I said NOT to get hasty.. Now look at you..”

The ringing continued. Not from a shootout but from a cell phone. Finally, Cashe pulls it out from his hoodie. The caller ID reads: Juddster.

“Shhh..” He whistles as he looks from the guard to the elevator. Like he was speaking to the other voices that were plaguing him earlier. His own. “I have to take this call, be quiet.”]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50641 Tue, 10 Nov 2026 08:06:00 -0800 Reggie Estrada]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=50641

[We see a kid standing in front of a burning house, looking as cold and dead inside. Then it shifts to the same kid with bunch of "immigrants'" trying to cross the boarder illegally, so got shot, some got caught by the guards, some managed to sneak in through the wire fence. We see the kid, holding his portrait of his parents, which he drops on the ground. He stares at the boarder, knowing his life is going to change. Suddenly, we see Reggie holding his mask in his hand staring at the same boarder from where the kid stood. He drops his mask on the ground, same as the kid did in a previous life.] 

Reggie: As i stare at the border, i remember crossing it into a promise of a good life. New beginning for my own sake, but what i left behind myself the truth. When i crossed that boarder in America, i believe that i would be able to reap the benefits of being a citizen. A citizen with the same amount the rights as the next American, but no that wasn't the case at all. I was shipped off to foster homes, being outcast for having African mom and a Hispanic dad whom had to killed due to the racial tension down in Mexico.

Truth be told, the only memory i had was running away, finding my own family. I had a daughter who left me, i had a baby mother who also left me. The only thing i had was the streets of San Diego, which i had  to get there illegally with no papers to my name. Lived there and realized, i have community but it wasn't positive as i thought, with gang life and drugs, mixed in with turf wars that caused me go down a dark path where I ended up going to prison. If it wasn't for John Black, or even Tommy Wish bailing me out of prison or at least giving me a chance to have a better chance at new life coming back into the wrestling scene with JB giving me his Wrestler82 mantle, I'd be dead in the barrios right now.

From time to time, i question do i have a place in this business, let alone in American wrestling scene?....

[We see images of people rioting, looting and shooting around the area. As Reggie walks down the streets of the abandoned Crime City, USA. He notices the posters of WG teams logos respectively. Then he gets stopped by one of the police like figure in mad max gear coming up to him with guns pointed at him.]

Popo 1: FREEZE TRESSPASSOR!....YOU CROSSED THE BOARDER ILLEGALLY!

Popo 2: YEAH....WHAT HE SAID!

[Reggie looked on with amusement.]

Reggie: What i can't be on the other side of the fence or what?

Popo 1: No, you don't belong here, are you associated with Obituary Gang.... Skeleton Crew?... The Sanitarium of Sin?....

[Reggie show's the popo's a badge of The Young Lords, which they take a look at, and tossed it on the ground and laughed.]

Popo 1: The Young Lords can't be in this part of town, you do know that right?

Reggie: What makes you say that?

Popo 1: We know that your leader can't handle what's to come. I heard he's not serious about this match, and how he's gonna lead you all to hell.

Popo 2: Yeah, Johnny Bacchus and two other losers who he claimed in his gang will not last here!

[Reggie looked at the cops with sense of distain, and even one of them decide to get fresh with him but spitting on his braids. This pushed him off the edge, and he pulls out a knife from his pocket, and stabs the police guys, then the dystopian looking people who saw this, ended up cheering him on for nearly murdering police. Then, he quickly flees off the scene to not be noticed. An hour or two passes, and he's at Dive Bar where he's drinking his sorrows away. He looks at his Young Lords badge that was desecrated by the police, and he held it tightly to his chest.]

[Then we see JB and Tommy coming to his area to talk to him about where he's bound for.]

JB: Reg, my man... i heard you are apart of this years War Games with about JB as your lead, how do you feel?

Reggie: I mean, I'm happy for this chance to wrestle in the state once more. But after this, I'm staying in lucha zone where i belong with.

Tommy: I know Crime City, USA isn't that ba---... oh its shit.

JB: I heard you killed some mad max lookin cops earlier, i guess you can't take the hood outta man like yourself.

Reggie: I refuse to have my gang be dissed like that!... hombre had it coming ese. But on the serious shit, i am not going to stress about being the final team standing. When i got in the Bacchus treehouse, we all agreed that no matter what happens we just going to kill them all.

[All three men get they whiskey and cheers to that all as one. As they take shot, Reggie orders some more for his crew until they were feelin loose. Then as the night comes to an end, group of mad max looking police men come into the bar looking for Reggie. The came up to him with guns drawn on him, while JB and T looked on in worry but not really as they laughed at their outfits that looked like Village People's outfits.]

Popo Chief: Wer tryed to killll my men?

Reggie: ¡Ese soy yo, oficial!

Popo Chief: Wer sherd like arrest yur azz...

Reggie: Im not going anywhere, since i am not exactly a visitor of Crime City, USA. Solo estoy aquí para un espectáculo, y la gente de tu pueblo me verá a mí y a mi pandilla destrozarlo todo, esse. Would be shitty if i end up behind bars or being told to cross that boarder and not be apart of it. So I'd suggest you think about what you want to do here.

[The Chief got mad and swings his pink looking baton on Reggie's head. Then his boys start swinging at the fruity looking cops of Crime City, damn near wrecked the bar but the patrons were going nuts over it. As the fight comes outside the bar, JB hands the owner 3,000 in cash to fix up the place, as Tommy get's with trailer park trash lookin woman. Once it died down, Reggie was alone in his run down, dirty temporary apartment for the PPV. He looks into the mirror of his bathroom, blood running off his nose and few black eyes to show his scars. He stares outside the window of the room to see the decay and degeneracy of the Crime City, USA. He stares at The Young Lords badge, and it reminded him why he's still involved.]

Reggie: Bacchus, Dickie, Frances... they are only one im willin to die for this shit for. I might have never encountered these gringos, but they are who i am willin to go in the mud for. Maybe after this, i might leave the fed for good, and be a forgotten memory within this place. JB and T, already know after i told them this before i came up here. This might be the end of me here; and most of those fans will be feeling glad that I'm gone, but my Afro-Latino will be still felt here.

Consider me, a guy who Bacchus entrust me with the badge of The Young Lords insignia, a leader who really wanted me to join his crew. Hell he had to dead ass have to have one of his intel search me down and told me the location to meet the team.... "thanks Frances, you drunk bastard!"... besides that, I'm willin and able to represent this crew in this years War Games. Even when he Mr. Bacchus brought me into his "treehouse" and told us all that none of this matters, just let us fight and fight no matter what happens.

That's what i like to hear, all this is just a part of something that's "one off", and we all just fuck off to something else which is my kind of lane. Bacchus, Frances, Dickie.... y'all got my full attention moving forward for this match.

[Reggie drinks a bottle of gin straight out of a dirty bottle that's been sitting in filth of the apartment, and he sits on the bed that's on the floor.]

Reggie: Now, I gotta take out Sanitarium of Sin, Obituary Gang, and Skeleton Crew... that's a lot to undertake, but fuck that's what i am happy about. There's people in those gang whom i had beef with, and some who i never heard of in my time. I know one's stuffed in a barrel, so lets hope to god that Grave's doesn't drink his ass to death, yeah I'm talkin about Liam Roberts, and man he got fucked up by Tommy last week. Apathy.... who ever that is, fuck em... but Graves, and Flynn...i know John told me about those two, and they might be the shit but they aint shit to me or Young Lords on the worse nights off if we have singles matches on the card. So fuck Skeleton Crew, because if Liam don't show up then well they might as well run off three dead bodies in against Obituary Gang.

Speaking of Obituary... Charlie, Thunder,  Korvayne, and Mr. Amazing... all you guys would be six feet deep where i live, because what i see is a team who anit shit with man like Charlie who's leading y'all to hell before the cage lowers down, you see I don't like Charlie, and those who got drafted by him, oh yall made a huge mistake to be apart of that man, because y'all won't get far in the War Games match at all. If y'all do, then luckily he isn't so dead pressed on jumping on that dick of Judd's belt every singular week, even if Judd's at his forest watchin the big game or somethin like that. So y'all gonna be in the obituaries on my watch, no fucks spared to if we get to y'all at the end.

Now... Sanitarium of Sin....with the added stip of the X-Treme title on the line on who takes out the head of the table, Judd himself with his own miscreates of Jason, James, and Mr. Oz. The funny thing is, Judd is sooo lucky that his belt on the line, because someone's gonna fuck em over hard if my crew don't...so i think Judd is an island for himself who's gonna get jacked from his belt he carries for so long, that I'd be shocked if I get it... and i guess i shall change my stance on where i am in this place. Those guys have so much at stake, it doesn't matter if Judd's team last against us, because he Judd will be the one to be eliminated from his crown jewels so to speak, and i anit talkin about that Saudi Aribia belt shit neither, homes.

Miren, gente: la verdad es que este combate y lo que hay en juego no me interesan gran cosa; tal vez el hecho de poder arrebatarle un cinturón a Judd sea lo único destacable, pero hasta ahí llega la cosa. No voy a perder el sueño si soy el primero en ser eliminado, ni tampoco si mi equipo no logra avanzar. Al fin y al cabo, Bacchus, Dixie y Frances han dejado claro que nuestro único objetivo es hacer daño. La mayoría de nosotros estamos más que listos para hacerlo saltar todo por los aires y convertir este lugar en un auténtico baño de sangre. Y, dado que estamos en Crime City USA teniendo en cuenta mis líos pasados con su sistema judicial, voy a cruzar esa línea que jamás debería cruzarse.

En cuanto atraviese la puerta de esa jaula, se acabaron las reglas y no habrá lugar para el arrepentimiento. Como ya dije antes, esta será la última vez que participe en algo que, para mí, carece de importancia; siempre habrá mejores oportunidades para poner mi cuerpo en juego por el bien del negocio.

¡Larga vida a los Young Lords!

[From there we it simply just fades to black.]]]>

[We see a kid standing in front of a burning house, looking as cold and dead inside. Then it shifts to the same kid with bunch of "immigrants'" trying to cross the boarder illegally, so got shot, some got caught by the guards, some managed to sneak in through the wire fence. We see the kid, holding his portrait of his parents, which he drops on the ground. He stares at the boarder, knowing his life is going to change. Suddenly, we see Reggie holding his mask in his hand staring at the same boarder from where the kid stood. He drops his mask on the ground, same as the kid did in a previous life.] 

Reggie: As i stare at the border, i remember crossing it into a promise of a good life. New beginning for my own sake, but what i left behind myself the truth. When i crossed that boarder in America, i believe that i would be able to reap the benefits of being a citizen. A citizen with the same amount the rights as the next American, but no that wasn't the case at all. I was shipped off to foster homes, being outcast for having African mom and a Hispanic dad whom had to killed due to the racial tension down in Mexico.

Truth be told, the only memory i had was running away, finding my own family. I had a daughter who left me, i had a baby mother who also left me. The only thing i had was the streets of San Diego, which i had  to get there illegally with no papers to my name. Lived there and realized, i have community but it wasn't positive as i thought, with gang life and drugs, mixed in with turf wars that caused me go down a dark path where I ended up going to prison. If it wasn't for John Black, or even Tommy Wish bailing me out of prison or at least giving me a chance to have a better chance at new life coming back into the wrestling scene with JB giving me his Wrestler82 mantle, I'd be dead in the barrios right now.

From time to time, i question do i have a place in this business, let alone in American wrestling scene?....

[We see images of people rioting, looting and shooting around the area. As Reggie walks down the streets of the abandoned Crime City, USA. He notices the posters of WG teams logos respectively. Then he gets stopped by one of the police like figure in mad max gear coming up to him with guns pointed at him.]

Popo 1: FREEZE TRESSPASSOR!....YOU CROSSED THE BOARDER ILLEGALLY!

Popo 2: YEAH....WHAT HE SAID!

[Reggie looked on with amusement.]

Reggie: What i can't be on the other side of the fence or what?

Popo 1: No, you don't belong here, are you associated with Obituary Gang.... Skeleton Crew?... The Sanitarium of Sin?....

[Reggie show's the popo's a badge of The Young Lords, which they take a look at, and tossed it on the ground and laughed.]

Popo 1: The Young Lords can't be in this part of town, you do know that right?

Reggie: What makes you say that?

Popo 1: We know that your leader can't handle what's to come. I heard he's not serious about this match, and how he's gonna lead you all to hell.

Popo 2: Yeah, Johnny Bacchus and two other losers who he claimed in his gang will not last here!

[Reggie looked at the cops with sense of distain, and even one of them decide to get fresh with him but spitting on his braids. This pushed him off the edge, and he pulls out a knife from his pocket, and stabs the police guys, then the dystopian looking people who saw this, ended up cheering him on for nearly murdering police. Then, he quickly flees off the scene to not be noticed. An hour or two passes, and he's at Dive Bar where he's drinking his sorrows away. He looks at his Young Lords badge that was desecrated by the police, and he held it tightly to his chest.]

[Then we see JB and Tommy coming to his area to talk to him about where he's bound for.]

JB: Reg, my man... i heard you are apart of this years War Games with about JB as your lead, how do you feel?

Reggie: I mean, I'm happy for this chance to wrestle in the state once more. But after this, I'm staying in lucha zone where i belong with.

Tommy: I know Crime City, USA isn't that ba---... oh its shit.

JB: I heard you killed some mad max lookin cops earlier, i guess you can't take the hood outta man like yourself.

Reggie: I refuse to have my gang be dissed like that!... hombre had it coming ese. But on the serious shit, i am not going to stress about being the final team standing. When i got in the Bacchus treehouse, we all agreed that no matter what happens we just going to kill them all.

[All three men get they whiskey and cheers to that all as one. As they take shot, Reggie orders some more for his crew until they were feelin loose. Then as the night comes to an end, group of mad max looking police men come into the bar looking for Reggie. The came up to him with guns drawn on him, while JB and T looked on in worry but not really as they laughed at their outfits that looked like Village People's outfits.]

Popo Chief: Wer tryed to killll my men?

Reggie: ¡Ese soy yo, oficial!

Popo Chief: Wer sherd like arrest yur azz...

Reggie: Im not going anywhere, since i am not exactly a visitor of Crime City, USA. Solo estoy aquí para un espectáculo, y la gente de tu pueblo me verá a mí y a mi pandilla destrozarlo todo, esse. Would be shitty if i end up behind bars or being told to cross that boarder and not be apart of it. So I'd suggest you think about what you want to do here.

[The Chief got mad and swings his pink looking baton on Reggie's head. Then his boys start swinging at the fruity looking cops of Crime City, damn near wrecked the bar but the patrons were going nuts over it. As the fight comes outside the bar, JB hands the owner 3,000 in cash to fix up the place, as Tommy get's with trailer park trash lookin woman. Once it died down, Reggie was alone in his run down, dirty temporary apartment for the PPV. He looks into the mirror of his bathroom, blood running off his nose and few black eyes to show his scars. He stares outside the window of the room to see the decay and degeneracy of the Crime City, USA. He stares at The Young Lords badge, and it reminded him why he's still involved.]

Reggie: Bacchus, Dickie, Frances... they are only one im willin to die for this shit for. I might have never encountered these gringos, but they are who i am willin to go in the mud for. Maybe after this, i might leave the fed for good, and be a forgotten memory within this place. JB and T, already know after i told them this before i came up here. This might be the end of me here; and most of those fans will be feeling glad that I'm gone, but my Afro-Latino will be still felt here.

Consider me, a guy who Bacchus entrust me with the badge of The Young Lords insignia, a leader who really wanted me to join his crew. Hell he had to dead ass have to have one of his intel search me down and told me the location to meet the team.... "thanks Frances, you drunk bastard!"... besides that, I'm willin and able to represent this crew in this years War Games. Even when he Mr. Bacchus brought me into his "treehouse" and told us all that none of this matters, just let us fight and fight no matter what happens.

That's what i like to hear, all this is just a part of something that's "one off", and we all just fuck off to something else which is my kind of lane. Bacchus, Frances, Dickie.... y'all got my full attention moving forward for this match.

[Reggie drinks a bottle of gin straight out of a dirty bottle that's been sitting in filth of the apartment, and he sits on the bed that's on the floor.]

Reggie: Now, I gotta take out Sanitarium of Sin, Obituary Gang, and Skeleton Crew... that's a lot to undertake, but fuck that's what i am happy about. There's people in those gang whom i had beef with, and some who i never heard of in my time. I know one's stuffed in a barrel, so lets hope to god that Grave's doesn't drink his ass to death, yeah I'm talkin about Liam Roberts, and man he got fucked up by Tommy last week. Apathy.... who ever that is, fuck em... but Graves, and Flynn...i know John told me about those two, and they might be the shit but they aint shit to me or Young Lords on the worse nights off if we have singles matches on the card. So fuck Skeleton Crew, because if Liam don't show up then well they might as well run off three dead bodies in against Obituary Gang.

Speaking of Obituary... Charlie, Thunder,  Korvayne, and Mr. Amazing... all you guys would be six feet deep where i live, because what i see is a team who anit shit with man like Charlie who's leading y'all to hell before the cage lowers down, you see I don't like Charlie, and those who got drafted by him, oh yall made a huge mistake to be apart of that man, because y'all won't get far in the War Games match at all. If y'all do, then luckily he isn't so dead pressed on jumping on that dick of Judd's belt every singular week, even if Judd's at his forest watchin the big game or somethin like that. So y'all gonna be in the obituaries on my watch, no fucks spared to if we get to y'all at the end.

Now... Sanitarium of Sin....with the added stip of the X-Treme title on the line on who takes out the head of the table, Judd himself with his own miscreates of Jason, James, and Mr. Oz. The funny thing is, Judd is sooo lucky that his belt on the line, because someone's gonna fuck em over hard if my crew don't...so i think Judd is an island for himself who's gonna get jacked from his belt he carries for so long, that I'd be shocked if I get it... and i guess i shall change my stance on where i am in this place. Those guys have so much at stake, it doesn't matter if Judd's team last against us, because he Judd will be the one to be eliminated from his crown jewels so to speak, and i anit talkin about that Saudi Aribia belt shit neither, homes.

Miren, gente: la verdad es que este combate y lo que hay en juego no me interesan gran cosa; tal vez el hecho de poder arrebatarle un cinturón a Judd sea lo único destacable, pero hasta ahí llega la cosa. No voy a perder el sueño si soy el primero en ser eliminado, ni tampoco si mi equipo no logra avanzar. Al fin y al cabo, Bacchus, Dixie y Frances han dejado claro que nuestro único objetivo es hacer daño. La mayoría de nosotros estamos más que listos para hacerlo saltar todo por los aires y convertir este lugar en un auténtico baño de sangre. Y, dado que estamos en Crime City USA teniendo en cuenta mis líos pasados con su sistema judicial, voy a cruzar esa línea que jamás debería cruzarse.

En cuanto atraviese la puerta de esa jaula, se acabaron las reglas y no habrá lugar para el arrepentimiento. Como ya dije antes, esta será la última vez que participe en algo que, para mí, carece de importancia; siempre habrá mejores oportunidades para poner mi cuerpo en juego por el bien del negocio.

¡Larga vida a los Young Lords!

[From there we it simply just fades to black.]]]>