<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - Gauntlet City (March 31st) PPV RP Archive]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Fri, 15 May 2026 20:03:44 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Passing ALL Tests, or failing in the attempt? The gang's all here -- RP 12]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1943 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 15:57:05 -0700 Mister Mystery 17 31707 1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1943









The inside of a room.

It's comprised completely of solid steel.

A woman.

Screaming for mercy.

A television.

Tormenting the living fuck out of her.

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

Tears flow.

Quote:Hey Flo!

Pretend

that

I'm

Mark

Flynn

:Woman:
No! NOOOOOO!!!

Quote:Then after Duke has fails, he'll go around trying to tell all of us that Lin Kwann is a whore in order to ease his pain and suffering.

Another scream for mercy.

Quote:Then after Duke has fails

Confusion contorts her face.

Quote:It's much easier to hide the bitterness and hurt than to come out and admit that you have an issue to settle.

:Woman:
Oh god -- why! Why?!

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

Another scream for mercy.

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

A repeat: scream for mercy.

Quote:Hey Flo! Tell me how Sebastian Duke is -- It's all the exact same drivel that I heard six months ago -- and this time will be more enjoyable than the first. Ejaculate everywhere?

Confusion contorts her face.

Quote:Hey Flo! Oh no, John Madison lost another match

:Woman:
What? Who? Somebody help me!

Quote:Hey Flo! Promo tip: I'm not all that interested in viewing snippet after snippet of myself in your promos.

Uncontrollable crying.

Palms to the floor.

Hope diminishing.

Quote:Hey Flo! I haven't won anything important going into Gauntlet City

:Woman:
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!

Click.

An end to clips.

Door open.

Mister Mystery stand at doorway.

Woman scream.

Mister Mystery in.

Door close.

Woman scream.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'd highly suggest you shut the fuck up unless you want me to play those John Madison clips again.

:Woman:
I...I don't even know who that is. Why are you doing this to meeeee?

Mister Mystery step toward her.

She jump back.

He reach for her.

She no want touchy touchy time.

:Woman:
Stay away from me! Who are you?!?

:MM 17 31707 1:
I am the answer to your prayers. It's just too bad for you that I'm not the answer you wanted.

Click. Television back to life.

Quote:Hey Flo!

Pretend

that

I'm

Mark

Flynn

Woman back against wall.

:Woman:
Who the fuck is Mark Flynn? Why do you keep playing clips of that sounding man at me?

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Having fun yet? This is the shit I've had to put up with all week long! Yet here you are, only having been stuck in this room for about 45 minutes, and you're ready to smash your own skull into that steel wall; aren't you?

Woman cry.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Aren't you?!?!

:Woman:
Ahhh! Yes! Yeessss! Please, please stop. I'll do anything.

Quote:Hey Flo! Tell me how Sebastian Duke is -- It's all the exact same drivel that I heard six months ago -- and this time will be more enjoyable than the first. Ejaculate everywhere?

Mister Mystery laugh.

He allow Madison snippets to answer for him now.

He point to television so woman know to answer it.

:Woman:
What the? You want me to answer what that weird little man on the screen keeps saying?

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

:Woman:
What?

Mister Mystery turn up volume television.

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

:Woman:
What's that even mean? Butt hurt? Please; I don't understand -- I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Please just stop!

Myster up volume television.

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

He turn down volume television.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You'd better start answering John Madison appropriately so he stops repeating himself. Come on, bitch! You heard him! Because that's what butt hurt little men do!

She cries and drops to her knees, bringing her hands up to her face and sobbing so uncontrollably that we have no choice but to finally break free from this Flynn-mock narration that John Madison wanted us to do again because he enjoys repeating the same joke again. The woman's tears run down her face as Mister Mystery steps closer to her and backs her further into the corner. Every inch of the room is made of steel as if this is some sort of bomb shelter, and every inch of this woman is made of the same fear that John Madison tries to cloak in his overdone "I'm a shithead; look at me be a dickwad" routine that everyone stopped believing right around the time of War Games, War Games, War Games.

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

:MM 17 31707 1:
Hey dirty bitch -- War Games.

Mister Mystery crouches down and leans right up into the woman's face, shouting through his mask with all his might.

:MM 17 31707 1:
War Games!

The television continues playing all of John Madison's most memorable quotes from his promo this week. It's a good thing he supplied us with so many in his promo this week. His promo this week was fantastic.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

:MM 17 31707 1:
I don't hear you answering this man, bitch. You better answer him.

The woman can barely construct words through her hysterical crying as tears wash the eyeliner from her eyes.

:Woman:
But he's not asking anything. He's just saying shit that makes no fucking sense to me!

Mister Mystery slams his open hand on the steel wall directly above the woman's head and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

:MM 17 31707 1:
And you think it makes sense to me? What about what I've had to go through this week with this sack of shit?

She melts further down into the floor as to put some distance between her head and the spot Mystery slammed his hand against. She looks up at him in absolute horror, struggling to find the right words as fast as she can as his beady eyes almost glow from behind that emotionless hockey mask.

:Woman:
I don't even understand. What does this man have to do with me? I don't know what you've gone through with him. I think you have the wrong woman.

Quote:Hey Flo! Promo tip: I'm not all that interested in viewing snippet after snippet of myself in your promos.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Is your name Flo?

The woman wipes some tears from under her eyes and looks up at him, quickly answering with a slight hint of hope in her voice that this might clear things up.

:Woman:
N...no. No! My name's not Flo! See? I told yo-

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

Mister Mystery explodes with boisterous laughter as he tips his head back and his entire body rumbles. The woman has no idea how to take this as she looks up at him without a clue of what to say next.

Quote:Then after Duke has fails

Quote:Hey Flo! Oh no, John Madison lost another match

Quote:Hey Flo! I haven't won anything important going into Gauntlet City

Quote:Hey Flo! Promo tip: I'm not all that interested in viewing snippet after snippet of myself in your promos.

The woman throws her hands up over her ears, clutching them in a psychotic manner as she shrieks like a banshee; tears running down her face like dual faucets and saliva seeping from her mouth. She continues gripping the sides of her head and begins to press her hands into her cheeks almost as if trying to smash her own head into nothingness to avoid hearing another John Madi-

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

Even through her screams and trying to rearrange her own face with her hands, she still hears that one!

:MM 17 31707 1:
Hey Flo! Want to hear a Hey Flo! Want to hear a joke?

Kick.

Out.

Like a light.

She'll thank him later.

You have our word that you've heard the last John Madison "snippet" for this promo. We believe we've made his point for hi-

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

Whoopsie! Alright, I'm being told that was definitely the last one.












No really.

It was.











Stop waiting as if you want that television to play another. It's not going to happen.














Still no Madison repeats here.













:MM 17 31707 1:
It's time for me to have some real fun with this bitch before I put myself through the ultimate test.

Mister Mystery's comment has us wondering what he could mean and finally forgetting all about the same things we just heard John Madison say from his promo this week. Mister Mystery pulls a cell phone out of the pocket of his camouflage pants and begins to dial a number.

Who is he calling?

Nobody -- he was texting. He sends the following text out to two people-

"Get over here now. We have some important training to do before our match. If this doesn't bring us together as a team and put us on the same page, nothing will."


He then sends a followup text with directions to his location, which, we do not see because he doesn't want any of you showing up here.


Arrival # 1



Sid Feder has been refusing to play a role in what's actually going on in this confined room. He wants no part of torturing this woman or doing whatever else Mister Mystery has planned, but he doesn't mind letting Mister Mystery's guests into the warehouse and guiding them back to the room.

The first of the guests is sent into the room and the first thing they notice is the fact that there are a bunch of tubes on top of the table that the television is sitting on. These tubes are wrapped and tangled indiscriminately around what appears to be some kind of mechanical device. The television -- thank god -- is no longer playing snippets of John Madison's promo but the woman is still crying and begging for her life in the corner as Mister Mystery literally stands over her, staring down at her.

It's unclear how much time passed between Mystery sending those texts and his first guest arriving, but it would seem the entire time was spent just looming over the woman and staring coldly at her. No chit chat; no walking around; none of the usual, predictable bullshit that an abductor might do to the inductee they've brought into their own world.

:Gilmour:
Oh you've got to be kidding me. I'm out of here.

That's right -- Peter Gilmour has arrived! Mister Mystery immediately turns to him and sees Peter starting to exit the room already.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Stop! I need your help, partner.

Peter freezes in his tracks and just shuts his eyes. You can sense the conflict in him as he tries to reason out this scenario in his mind.

He's not into abducting woman and raping them, but Mister Mystery is his partner.

He's not into torture and has no idea what trouble he already might be in just by being here, but Mister Mystery is the co-holder of the Tag Team Championships with him.

He's not prepared to possibly murder an innocent woman, chop her up, bag up the body parts, and dispose of them for Mister Mystery -- but Mister Mystery is likely to put a bullet through Peter's heart if he refuses to assist.

Decisions, decisions...

:MM 17 31707 1:
I don't have all day, Peter. Turn your ass back around and come back in here. I need your fucking help with this shit.

Peter lets out one hell of a sigh and forces himself back around to face Mister Mystery. He walks toward him and can't help but look down at the helpless woman who is covered in sweat and tears.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'd like you to meet -- the appetizer. Say hello to her, Peter.

:Gilmour:
What? No. I'm not doing this. I'm not taking part in cannibalism.

He starts to try and turn around again but Mister Mystery grabs his arm tightly; the same arm that he almost shattered and flattened to a pancake during their first match as partners.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Not that kind of appetizer. Don't leave me high and dry here. Without you, I can't make it to Gauntlet City. More importantly without me, you can't hope to win those Trio Championships at Gauntlet City. Now be a man and get your mind straight because I'm going to explain exactly what needs to be done here.

Arrival # 2


At that point the door to the room opens and Sid Feder ushers in Mister Mystery's second guest. The man comes in carrying a severed goat leg in one hand and a bottle that very much looks to be a pickle jar with one pickle floating in it.

My mistake -- that's definitely not a pickle floating in that jar. Too dark to be a pickle; that's for sure. I'm not even going to describe what I think that is.

:Unknown Soldier:
What do we have here?

Unknown Soldier takes a quick sip from the pickle jar before answering his own question.

:Dante Kyllen:
Well it looks like Mister Mystery and Peter Gilmour have started the fun without us.

He continues a brief conversation with himself as Peter Gilmour backs up a step and has no clue what to do. Gilmour glances over at the crying woman, then at Mister Mystery, and finally back to Soldier's pickle jar.

:Unknown Soldier:
Then we've got a lot of catching up to do. Let me finish this goat leg real quick so we can get right down to busi-

He interrupts himself-

:Dante Kyllen:
No! Be polite. Share with your friends. Let Peter eat the rest of that goat leg and give Mister Mystery the rest of our piss and shit in a jar.

:Unknown Soldier:
But, but...

:Dante: Kyllen:
And while they're enjoying themselves we get to feast on the woman in that corner!

:Unknown Soldier:
I didn't even see her over there. You're right -- I'll share.

Soldier walks up to Peter and hands the goat leg toward him but Peter is horrified. He can't even find the words right now. Mister Mystery has no problem reaching in and grabbing the pickle jar which he sniffs and begins to laugh about.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Wow you weren't kidding. I've got a much better idea for this though.

Mister Mystery walks over to the woman and kneels down beside her.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'll give you a deal. If you consume the contents of this pickle jar, I'll let you walk out of here scott free.

The woman almost throws up just from getting a close up of that black rod of shit bobbing up and down inside the cloudy, yellow liquid.

:Woman:
You want me to eat shit?

:MM 17 31707 1:
It's not shit -- it's a pickle; but to be more precise I want you to eat the pickle and drink the pickle juice. Consider this a test that will determine whether or not you deserve to live.

:Woman:
But that guy with the blood soaked clothes and the goat leg just called this his jar of piss and shit.

Mister Mystery jabs the woman right in her nose; not hard enough to knock her out but just enough to open up a steady stream of blood from her nostrils. Unknown Soldier sees this while still trying to hand Peter the goat leg and he drops the leg at Peter's feet. Peter looks down and is disgusted -- not at the goat leg.

:Gilmour:
Oh my god! How are your pants already down? You weren't even touching them.

He's right. Soldier was trying to grab Peter's hand and force him to accept the goat leg but as soon as Soldier laid his eyes on the trail of blood coming from that crying woman's face his pants somehow automatically relieved themselves of duty.

:Gilmour:
And why are you already hard? Oh fuck this; I'm out.

Peter tries to push his way past Soldier but Soldier keeps sliding in front of him. There's not much room between the wall and the table so Peter can't exactly get past if Soldier with his erection keeps shuffling in front of him, and Peter appears to want no part of actually making physical contact with him.

:Unknown Soldier:
We helped you out at the bar. Now you need to help us out here.

:Gilmour:
Helped me out? I wouldn't' exactly call dipping your dick into somebody's drink helping me out at the bar.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Will you two stop arguing? We're done here anyway. Look -- she finished the whole thing.

While Peter and Soldier were talking they had no clue that the woman actually grabbed the jar and ate the piece of black fecal matter within seconds. She chowed down like it was a Milky Way and her name was Barney Green! Not only that, but she guzzled that piss in such large gulps that even Mister Mystery almost had trouble stomaching the sight. Needless to say, this woman has earned her freedom.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You guys don't have to worry about doing anything wrong now. She passed the test! Let's give her a big round of applaus.

Mister Mystery starts to clap over excitedly as Peter Gilmour slowly raises his hands, not sure how to take this, and also claps a little. He's very relieved that there won't have to be a murder here tonight. Unknown Soldier also claps but the sounds of clapping from him are in the form of his open hand smacking his hard-on around as it bobbles back and forth.

:Unknown Soldier:
I wish Greggo were here for this. He's good at this game.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I don't want Greggo anywhere near me and this was a job strictly for the three of us -- to harden us for the battle ahead at Gauntlet City.

:Unknown Soldier:
You've got that right.

Peter backs away from Soldier as Mister Mystery pulls the girl up to her feet.

:Woman:
Is that really it? You're letting me go? Oh god. Thank you.

Now we skip ahead only 3 seconds. What a difference 3 seconds can make.

:Unknown Soldier:
I really don't see how we can let her go under these circumstances.

Peter Gilmour is freaking out right now.

:Gilmour:
You mean because you just split her head open with that fucking pickax? What the fuck Soldier!

:MM 17 31707 1:
Hey, hey; we can't put the blame on Soldier here. She must have said something that irked him. Soldier's looking out for our best interest here.

Peter tries to leave but Soldier and Mister Mystery grab him and back him into the corner. Mister Mystery with his mask pressed up against Peter's face and Soldier with his erection pressed up against Peter's leg. Mystery puts his hand around Peter's throat and growls like a rabid animal.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You're going to help us get out of this mess or you're going to be a part of the mess. We need to trust each other! We need to know we can count on each other.

Peter is almost hyperventilating and he's sweating bullets. He knows that Mister Mystery and Unknown Soldier would have no problem ripping him into pieces and either digesting the pieces or using them as fuck toys. He weighs this thought against the thought of walking out of Gauntlet City with the Trio Championships and possibly even as King of XWF. Yes, even in a time like this Peter's mind travels to thoughts of dominating the wrestling industry -- just what Mister Mystery was counting on.

:Gilmour:
This is so fucked. This is wrong, but I'll do it. I'll help you guys out and we'll go on to Gauntlet City like none of this ever happened.

Unknown Soldier smiles and Peter can feel Soldier's erection get even harder. Soldier and Mystery back up away from Peter and allow him to catch his breath and even Mister Mystery himself is both surprised with how fast Unknown Soldier is already face fucking the dead woman.

Not by placing his dick in the mouth.

By shoving it into the open cavity in her face that was created by the pickax. Peter looks away and tries to ignore what Soldier is doing.

:Gilmour:
I can't believe this. Alright, what do you need me to do?

:MM 17 31707 1:
I just need you to share a good time with us so we can feel united as a true team. When he's done fucking that corpse, I'm going to take my turn with her.

Peter is afraid to ask what comes next.

:MM 17 31707 1:
And as you might imagine, you're going to get sloppy thirds. You're going to fuck that bitch the same way you wanted to fuck that girl at the bar. This is your chance to let out those frustrations and this time none of it would count as cheating on your fiance. Everybody knows that if they're dead, they're fair play.

:Gilmour:
What???????????

:MM 17 31707 1:
Oh, I'm pretty fucking sure you heard every word I just said, Peter.

Unknown Soldier begins to howl like some kind of hyena as he humps faster and faster. His body trembles as he has the mother of all orgasms while keeping his eyes opened as wide as they can be, locked directly with Peter's eyes the entire time. Peter tries to move but Soldier keeps his eyes locked with his.

:Gilmour:
Oh my god why the fuck is he staring at me like that?

:MM 17 31707 1:
Would you rather he had his dick in your brain and was staring at the woman?

Peter lets out a disgusted groan as he falls back against the fall and seems weak at the knees.

:Unknown Soldier:
Hey Mystery -- I'm almost hard again.

He literally just finished and he's already getting excited again as he smears the woman's blood all over himself and sucks it off of his own fingers.

:Unknown Soldier:
I say we Eiffel Tower this bitch!

:MM 17 31707 1:
What the fuck is that?

:Unknown Soldier:
It's where one of us fucks her from behind and the other fucks her face and we give each other high fives in the process. She'd have to be on her knees though so we're going to need Peter to hold her body in position while we rail her. She's having trouble supporting herself in her current state. This can be how he earns our trust if he would prefer not to actually fuck the dead body!

Both of them look at Peter Gilmour.

:Gilmour:
No. No. NO. I will not do that.

The Eiffel Tower


Sure, it literally took hours of convincing but we skipped all of that footage and got right to the good stuff.

Unknown Soldier slaps hands with Mister Mystery as blood particles fly out from between their hands with each high five and hit Peter in the face while he holds the dead woman's waist to keep her in proper position. Unknown Soldier has taken up the rear since he already had a taste of the head earlier, and Mister Mystery is fucking the head so hard that chunks of brain and skull are dropping down onto the floor. Both men are really enjoying the fact that their hands are free to give each other high fives and occasionally ruffle up Peter's hair with their soaked hands while he holds the woman in position.

:Gilmour:
Oh my fucking god are you guys almost done?

:Unknown Soldier:
You hear that? Peter wants us to cum! Tell us to cum, Peter! Tell us!

Peter shakes some of the blood and chunks off of his head and screams at them both.

:Gilmour:
Cum already! Cuuuuum!

:Unknown Soldier:
Soldier starts having what can only be described as demonic convulsions and his head almost spins in a circle from how turned on he gets by being told to cum by Peter Gilmour. The explosion actually shoots the corps forward and harder into Mister Mystery which turns him on just as much. It's like somebody hooked some electrical cables up to Mystery's body as he shakes so violently and uncontrollably that the remainder of the woman's head actually explodes! Most of it going in Peter's face of course.

Peter finally lets go of the body and runs over to a large industrial sink in the far corner of the room to go wash himself off as Unknown Soldier and Mister Mystery fall to the floor, twitching and moaning.

:Gilmour:
Oh my god you've got to be kidding me! Why doesn't this sink work???

Passing The Test


By now you may be wondering many things and could have completely forgotten that we need to find out how Mister Mystery did on his urine test. Did he pass? If not, he's going to be gone from the XWF for 6 months according to General Manager Blackwater.

Let's remember that the events we're seeing right now happened prior to the piss test, so we're actually about to find out how Mister Mystery prepared for the test.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Unzip your pants, Peter.

Remember those random hoses that were laid out on the table next to the television? What you didn't see was the catheter that Unknown Soldier is already in the process of shoving into Mister Mystery's penis.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Ouch. Watch that shit. You don't want to mash it like that. Insert it gently so I'm not walking around with a black and blue dick for weeks.

Suddenly some of our questions from the previous promo are becoming clear.

Peter watches in horror as Soldier finishes shoving the catheter in place and blood pours from Mister Mystery's penis.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Ok Gilmour, now this is where you're really going to help me out. Take that device on the table, open it up, and piss into it.

:Gilmour:
What????

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'm pretty fucking sure you heard me. We don't have time to waste. Do it.

Peter grabs the device, pops open its lid, and pisses into it because he had to take a huge piss anyway and by now this is the least of his worries out of the things he's been forced to do today.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Alright, good. Now set it down next to me and hook those hoses together. Put that end into the device and let Soldier plug the other end of the hose into this catheter. Hurry up.

Peter quickly does as he's told as Soldier grabs his end of the hose and jams it into the catheter, causing Mister Mystery to jump and scream.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Mother fucker! Careful with that!

Unknown Soldier pats Mister Mystery's bloody dick and apologizes as Peter Gilmour just stands there with his eyes ready to pop out of his skull. The machine is hooked up and Unknown Soldier flips a switch on the machine.

Peter watches as his own, steroid-free urine is filtered through the clear hose and slowly up into Mister Mystery's own penis while Mystery sits on the table. Mystery begins to groan and moan as the piss enters his system.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Oh my god, guys. I need you. Come here!

He grabs hold of Unknown Soldier's hand and Peter Gilmour's hand. He squeezes their hands and lets out a loudest roar of his entire life as Soldier and Gilmour's hands almost get crushed into dust from how hard he's squeezing. It's almost like he's giving birth and they're there to support him as he screams in pain and almost rips their arms off of their bodies.

:MM 17 31707 1:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

They continue to hold his hands as his body receives the entire load of Peter's urine. Mister Mystery falls back on the table and lets out a huge sigh of relief once it's over and Unknown Soldier rips the catheter out!

:MM 17 31707 1:
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

:Unknown Soldier:
It was Peter!

Soldier whips Peter repeatedly with the hose as blood and piss get all over him.







Ladies and gentlefucks -- we've just seen the most solid display of team work that we've ever been witness to in the XWF.

And yes -- for those wondering -- General Manager Blackwater did eventually call Mister Mystery back after the piss test and confirmed for him-

-that he had passed with flying colors.

Literally. Mostly red and gold.

:Gilmour:
Stop whipping me with that damn hose, Soldier! Fuck!


]]>









The inside of a room.

It's comprised completely of solid steel.

A woman.

Screaming for mercy.

A television.

Tormenting the living fuck out of her.

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

Tears flow.

Quote:Hey Flo!

Pretend

that

I'm

Mark

Flynn

:Woman:
No! NOOOOOO!!!

Quote:Then after Duke has fails, he'll go around trying to tell all of us that Lin Kwann is a whore in order to ease his pain and suffering.

Another scream for mercy.

Quote:Then after Duke has fails

Confusion contorts her face.

Quote:It's much easier to hide the bitterness and hurt than to come out and admit that you have an issue to settle.

:Woman:
Oh god -- why! Why?!

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

Another scream for mercy.

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

A repeat: scream for mercy.

Quote:Hey Flo! Tell me how Sebastian Duke is -- It's all the exact same drivel that I heard six months ago -- and this time will be more enjoyable than the first. Ejaculate everywhere?

Confusion contorts her face.

Quote:Hey Flo! Oh no, John Madison lost another match

:Woman:
What? Who? Somebody help me!

Quote:Hey Flo! Promo tip: I'm not all that interested in viewing snippet after snippet of myself in your promos.

Uncontrollable crying.

Palms to the floor.

Hope diminishing.

Quote:Hey Flo! I haven't won anything important going into Gauntlet City

:Woman:
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!

Click.

An end to clips.

Door open.

Mister Mystery stand at doorway.

Woman scream.

Mister Mystery in.

Door close.

Woman scream.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'd highly suggest you shut the fuck up unless you want me to play those John Madison clips again.

:Woman:
I...I don't even know who that is. Why are you doing this to meeeee?

Mister Mystery step toward her.

She jump back.

He reach for her.

She no want touchy touchy time.

:Woman:
Stay away from me! Who are you?!?

:MM 17 31707 1:
I am the answer to your prayers. It's just too bad for you that I'm not the answer you wanted.

Click. Television back to life.

Quote:Hey Flo!

Pretend

that

I'm

Mark

Flynn

Woman back against wall.

:Woman:
Who the fuck is Mark Flynn? Why do you keep playing clips of that sounding man at me?

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

She screams.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Having fun yet? This is the shit I've had to put up with all week long! Yet here you are, only having been stuck in this room for about 45 minutes, and you're ready to smash your own skull into that steel wall; aren't you?

Woman cry.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Aren't you?!?!

:Woman:
Ahhh! Yes! Yeessss! Please, please stop. I'll do anything.

Quote:Hey Flo! Tell me how Sebastian Duke is -- It's all the exact same drivel that I heard six months ago -- and this time will be more enjoyable than the first. Ejaculate everywhere?

Mister Mystery laugh.

He allow Madison snippets to answer for him now.

He point to television so woman know to answer it.

:Woman:
What the? You want me to answer what that weird little man on the screen keeps saying?

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

:Woman:
What?

Mister Mystery turn up volume television.

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

:Woman:
What's that even mean? Butt hurt? Please; I don't understand -- I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Please just stop!

Myster up volume television.

Quote:Because that's what butt hurt little men do

He turn down volume television.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You'd better start answering John Madison appropriately so he stops repeating himself. Come on, bitch! You heard him! Because that's what butt hurt little men do!

She cries and drops to her knees, bringing her hands up to her face and sobbing so uncontrollably that we have no choice but to finally break free from this Flynn-mock narration that John Madison wanted us to do again because he enjoys repeating the same joke again. The woman's tears run down her face as Mister Mystery steps closer to her and backs her further into the corner. Every inch of the room is made of steel as if this is some sort of bomb shelter, and every inch of this woman is made of the same fear that John Madison tries to cloak in his overdone "I'm a shithead; look at me be a dickwad" routine that everyone stopped believing right around the time of War Games, War Games, War Games.

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

:MM 17 31707 1:
Hey dirty bitch -- War Games.

Mister Mystery crouches down and leans right up into the woman's face, shouting through his mask with all his might.

:MM 17 31707 1:
War Games!

The television continues playing all of John Madison's most memorable quotes from his promo this week. It's a good thing he supplied us with so many in his promo this week. His promo this week was fantastic.

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

:MM 17 31707 1:
I don't hear you answering this man, bitch. You better answer him.

The woman can barely construct words through her hysterical crying as tears wash the eyeliner from her eyes.

:Woman:
But he's not asking anything. He's just saying shit that makes no fucking sense to me!

Mister Mystery slams his open hand on the steel wall directly above the woman's head and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

:MM 17 31707 1:
And you think it makes sense to me? What about what I've had to go through this week with this sack of shit?

She melts further down into the floor as to put some distance between her head and the spot Mystery slammed his hand against. She looks up at him in absolute horror, struggling to find the right words as fast as she can as his beady eyes almost glow from behind that emotionless hockey mask.

:Woman:
I don't even understand. What does this man have to do with me? I don't know what you've gone through with him. I think you have the wrong woman.

Quote:Hey Flo! Promo tip: I'm not all that interested in viewing snippet after snippet of myself in your promos.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Is your name Flo?

The woman wipes some tears from under her eyes and looks up at him, quickly answering with a slight hint of hope in her voice that this might clear things up.

:Woman:
N...no. No! My name's not Flo! See? I told yo-

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

Mister Mystery explodes with boisterous laughter as he tips his head back and his entire body rumbles. The woman has no idea how to take this as she looks up at him without a clue of what to say next.

Quote:Then after Duke has fails

Quote:Hey Flo! Oh no, John Madison lost another match

Quote:Hey Flo! I haven't won anything important going into Gauntlet City

Quote:Hey Flo! Promo tip: I'm not all that interested in viewing snippet after snippet of myself in your promos.

The woman throws her hands up over her ears, clutching them in a psychotic manner as she shrieks like a banshee; tears running down her face like dual faucets and saliva seeping from her mouth. She continues gripping the sides of her head and begins to press her hands into her cheeks almost as if trying to smash her own head into nothingness to avoid hearing another John Madi-

Quote:You know me; I'm always down for a repeat of the same jokes

Even through her screams and trying to rearrange her own face with her hands, she still hears that one!

:MM 17 31707 1:
Hey Flo! Want to hear a Hey Flo! Want to hear a joke?

Kick.

Out.

Like a light.

She'll thank him later.

You have our word that you've heard the last John Madison "snippet" for this promo. We believe we've made his point for hi-

Quote:Hey Flo! War Games

Whoopsie! Alright, I'm being told that was definitely the last one.












No really.

It was.











Stop waiting as if you want that television to play another. It's not going to happen.














Still no Madison repeats here.













:MM 17 31707 1:
It's time for me to have some real fun with this bitch before I put myself through the ultimate test.

Mister Mystery's comment has us wondering what he could mean and finally forgetting all about the same things we just heard John Madison say from his promo this week. Mister Mystery pulls a cell phone out of the pocket of his camouflage pants and begins to dial a number.

Who is he calling?

Nobody -- he was texting. He sends the following text out to two people-

"Get over here now. We have some important training to do before our match. If this doesn't bring us together as a team and put us on the same page, nothing will."


He then sends a followup text with directions to his location, which, we do not see because he doesn't want any of you showing up here.


Arrival # 1



Sid Feder has been refusing to play a role in what's actually going on in this confined room. He wants no part of torturing this woman or doing whatever else Mister Mystery has planned, but he doesn't mind letting Mister Mystery's guests into the warehouse and guiding them back to the room.

The first of the guests is sent into the room and the first thing they notice is the fact that there are a bunch of tubes on top of the table that the television is sitting on. These tubes are wrapped and tangled indiscriminately around what appears to be some kind of mechanical device. The television -- thank god -- is no longer playing snippets of John Madison's promo but the woman is still crying and begging for her life in the corner as Mister Mystery literally stands over her, staring down at her.

It's unclear how much time passed between Mystery sending those texts and his first guest arriving, but it would seem the entire time was spent just looming over the woman and staring coldly at her. No chit chat; no walking around; none of the usual, predictable bullshit that an abductor might do to the inductee they've brought into their own world.

:Gilmour:
Oh you've got to be kidding me. I'm out of here.

That's right -- Peter Gilmour has arrived! Mister Mystery immediately turns to him and sees Peter starting to exit the room already.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Stop! I need your help, partner.

Peter freezes in his tracks and just shuts his eyes. You can sense the conflict in him as he tries to reason out this scenario in his mind.

He's not into abducting woman and raping them, but Mister Mystery is his partner.

He's not into torture and has no idea what trouble he already might be in just by being here, but Mister Mystery is the co-holder of the Tag Team Championships with him.

He's not prepared to possibly murder an innocent woman, chop her up, bag up the body parts, and dispose of them for Mister Mystery -- but Mister Mystery is likely to put a bullet through Peter's heart if he refuses to assist.

Decisions, decisions...

:MM 17 31707 1:
I don't have all day, Peter. Turn your ass back around and come back in here. I need your fucking help with this shit.

Peter lets out one hell of a sigh and forces himself back around to face Mister Mystery. He walks toward him and can't help but look down at the helpless woman who is covered in sweat and tears.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'd like you to meet -- the appetizer. Say hello to her, Peter.

:Gilmour:
What? No. I'm not doing this. I'm not taking part in cannibalism.

He starts to try and turn around again but Mister Mystery grabs his arm tightly; the same arm that he almost shattered and flattened to a pancake during their first match as partners.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Not that kind of appetizer. Don't leave me high and dry here. Without you, I can't make it to Gauntlet City. More importantly without me, you can't hope to win those Trio Championships at Gauntlet City. Now be a man and get your mind straight because I'm going to explain exactly what needs to be done here.

Arrival # 2


At that point the door to the room opens and Sid Feder ushers in Mister Mystery's second guest. The man comes in carrying a severed goat leg in one hand and a bottle that very much looks to be a pickle jar with one pickle floating in it.

My mistake -- that's definitely not a pickle floating in that jar. Too dark to be a pickle; that's for sure. I'm not even going to describe what I think that is.

:Unknown Soldier:
What do we have here?

Unknown Soldier takes a quick sip from the pickle jar before answering his own question.

:Dante Kyllen:
Well it looks like Mister Mystery and Peter Gilmour have started the fun without us.

He continues a brief conversation with himself as Peter Gilmour backs up a step and has no clue what to do. Gilmour glances over at the crying woman, then at Mister Mystery, and finally back to Soldier's pickle jar.

:Unknown Soldier:
Then we've got a lot of catching up to do. Let me finish this goat leg real quick so we can get right down to busi-

He interrupts himself-

:Dante Kyllen:
No! Be polite. Share with your friends. Let Peter eat the rest of that goat leg and give Mister Mystery the rest of our piss and shit in a jar.

:Unknown Soldier:
But, but...

:Dante: Kyllen:
And while they're enjoying themselves we get to feast on the woman in that corner!

:Unknown Soldier:
I didn't even see her over there. You're right -- I'll share.

Soldier walks up to Peter and hands the goat leg toward him but Peter is horrified. He can't even find the words right now. Mister Mystery has no problem reaching in and grabbing the pickle jar which he sniffs and begins to laugh about.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Wow you weren't kidding. I've got a much better idea for this though.

Mister Mystery walks over to the woman and kneels down beside her.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'll give you a deal. If you consume the contents of this pickle jar, I'll let you walk out of here scott free.

The woman almost throws up just from getting a close up of that black rod of shit bobbing up and down inside the cloudy, yellow liquid.

:Woman:
You want me to eat shit?

:MM 17 31707 1:
It's not shit -- it's a pickle; but to be more precise I want you to eat the pickle and drink the pickle juice. Consider this a test that will determine whether or not you deserve to live.

:Woman:
But that guy with the blood soaked clothes and the goat leg just called this his jar of piss and shit.

Mister Mystery jabs the woman right in her nose; not hard enough to knock her out but just enough to open up a steady stream of blood from her nostrils. Unknown Soldier sees this while still trying to hand Peter the goat leg and he drops the leg at Peter's feet. Peter looks down and is disgusted -- not at the goat leg.

:Gilmour:
Oh my god! How are your pants already down? You weren't even touching them.

He's right. Soldier was trying to grab Peter's hand and force him to accept the goat leg but as soon as Soldier laid his eyes on the trail of blood coming from that crying woman's face his pants somehow automatically relieved themselves of duty.

:Gilmour:
And why are you already hard? Oh fuck this; I'm out.

Peter tries to push his way past Soldier but Soldier keeps sliding in front of him. There's not much room between the wall and the table so Peter can't exactly get past if Soldier with his erection keeps shuffling in front of him, and Peter appears to want no part of actually making physical contact with him.

:Unknown Soldier:
We helped you out at the bar. Now you need to help us out here.

:Gilmour:
Helped me out? I wouldn't' exactly call dipping your dick into somebody's drink helping me out at the bar.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Will you two stop arguing? We're done here anyway. Look -- she finished the whole thing.

While Peter and Soldier were talking they had no clue that the woman actually grabbed the jar and ate the piece of black fecal matter within seconds. She chowed down like it was a Milky Way and her name was Barney Green! Not only that, but she guzzled that piss in such large gulps that even Mister Mystery almost had trouble stomaching the sight. Needless to say, this woman has earned her freedom.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You guys don't have to worry about doing anything wrong now. She passed the test! Let's give her a big round of applaus.

Mister Mystery starts to clap over excitedly as Peter Gilmour slowly raises his hands, not sure how to take this, and also claps a little. He's very relieved that there won't have to be a murder here tonight. Unknown Soldier also claps but the sounds of clapping from him are in the form of his open hand smacking his hard-on around as it bobbles back and forth.

:Unknown Soldier:
I wish Greggo were here for this. He's good at this game.

:MM 17 31707 1:
I don't want Greggo anywhere near me and this was a job strictly for the three of us -- to harden us for the battle ahead at Gauntlet City.

:Unknown Soldier:
You've got that right.

Peter backs away from Soldier as Mister Mystery pulls the girl up to her feet.

:Woman:
Is that really it? You're letting me go? Oh god. Thank you.

Now we skip ahead only 3 seconds. What a difference 3 seconds can make.

:Unknown Soldier:
I really don't see how we can let her go under these circumstances.

Peter Gilmour is freaking out right now.

:Gilmour:
You mean because you just split her head open with that fucking pickax? What the fuck Soldier!

:MM 17 31707 1:
Hey, hey; we can't put the blame on Soldier here. She must have said something that irked him. Soldier's looking out for our best interest here.

Peter tries to leave but Soldier and Mister Mystery grab him and back him into the corner. Mister Mystery with his mask pressed up against Peter's face and Soldier with his erection pressed up against Peter's leg. Mystery puts his hand around Peter's throat and growls like a rabid animal.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You're going to help us get out of this mess or you're going to be a part of the mess. We need to trust each other! We need to know we can count on each other.

Peter is almost hyperventilating and he's sweating bullets. He knows that Mister Mystery and Unknown Soldier would have no problem ripping him into pieces and either digesting the pieces or using them as fuck toys. He weighs this thought against the thought of walking out of Gauntlet City with the Trio Championships and possibly even as King of XWF. Yes, even in a time like this Peter's mind travels to thoughts of dominating the wrestling industry -- just what Mister Mystery was counting on.

:Gilmour:
This is so fucked. This is wrong, but I'll do it. I'll help you guys out and we'll go on to Gauntlet City like none of this ever happened.

Unknown Soldier smiles and Peter can feel Soldier's erection get even harder. Soldier and Mystery back up away from Peter and allow him to catch his breath and even Mister Mystery himself is both surprised with how fast Unknown Soldier is already face fucking the dead woman.

Not by placing his dick in the mouth.

By shoving it into the open cavity in her face that was created by the pickax. Peter looks away and tries to ignore what Soldier is doing.

:Gilmour:
I can't believe this. Alright, what do you need me to do?

:MM 17 31707 1:
I just need you to share a good time with us so we can feel united as a true team. When he's done fucking that corpse, I'm going to take my turn with her.

Peter is afraid to ask what comes next.

:MM 17 31707 1:
And as you might imagine, you're going to get sloppy thirds. You're going to fuck that bitch the same way you wanted to fuck that girl at the bar. This is your chance to let out those frustrations and this time none of it would count as cheating on your fiance. Everybody knows that if they're dead, they're fair play.

:Gilmour:
What???????????

:MM 17 31707 1:
Oh, I'm pretty fucking sure you heard every word I just said, Peter.

Unknown Soldier begins to howl like some kind of hyena as he humps faster and faster. His body trembles as he has the mother of all orgasms while keeping his eyes opened as wide as they can be, locked directly with Peter's eyes the entire time. Peter tries to move but Soldier keeps his eyes locked with his.

:Gilmour:
Oh my god why the fuck is he staring at me like that?

:MM 17 31707 1:
Would you rather he had his dick in your brain and was staring at the woman?

Peter lets out a disgusted groan as he falls back against the fall and seems weak at the knees.

:Unknown Soldier:
Hey Mystery -- I'm almost hard again.

He literally just finished and he's already getting excited again as he smears the woman's blood all over himself and sucks it off of his own fingers.

:Unknown Soldier:
I say we Eiffel Tower this bitch!

:MM 17 31707 1:
What the fuck is that?

:Unknown Soldier:
It's where one of us fucks her from behind and the other fucks her face and we give each other high fives in the process. She'd have to be on her knees though so we're going to need Peter to hold her body in position while we rail her. She's having trouble supporting herself in her current state. This can be how he earns our trust if he would prefer not to actually fuck the dead body!

Both of them look at Peter Gilmour.

:Gilmour:
No. No. NO. I will not do that.

The Eiffel Tower


Sure, it literally took hours of convincing but we skipped all of that footage and got right to the good stuff.

Unknown Soldier slaps hands with Mister Mystery as blood particles fly out from between their hands with each high five and hit Peter in the face while he holds the dead woman's waist to keep her in proper position. Unknown Soldier has taken up the rear since he already had a taste of the head earlier, and Mister Mystery is fucking the head so hard that chunks of brain and skull are dropping down onto the floor. Both men are really enjoying the fact that their hands are free to give each other high fives and occasionally ruffle up Peter's hair with their soaked hands while he holds the woman in position.

:Gilmour:
Oh my fucking god are you guys almost done?

:Unknown Soldier:
You hear that? Peter wants us to cum! Tell us to cum, Peter! Tell us!

Peter shakes some of the blood and chunks off of his head and screams at them both.

:Gilmour:
Cum already! Cuuuuum!

:Unknown Soldier:
Soldier starts having what can only be described as demonic convulsions and his head almost spins in a circle from how turned on he gets by being told to cum by Peter Gilmour. The explosion actually shoots the corps forward and harder into Mister Mystery which turns him on just as much. It's like somebody hooked some electrical cables up to Mystery's body as he shakes so violently and uncontrollably that the remainder of the woman's head actually explodes! Most of it going in Peter's face of course.

Peter finally lets go of the body and runs over to a large industrial sink in the far corner of the room to go wash himself off as Unknown Soldier and Mister Mystery fall to the floor, twitching and moaning.

:Gilmour:
Oh my god you've got to be kidding me! Why doesn't this sink work???

Passing The Test


By now you may be wondering many things and could have completely forgotten that we need to find out how Mister Mystery did on his urine test. Did he pass? If not, he's going to be gone from the XWF for 6 months according to General Manager Blackwater.

Let's remember that the events we're seeing right now happened prior to the piss test, so we're actually about to find out how Mister Mystery prepared for the test.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Unzip your pants, Peter.

Remember those random hoses that were laid out on the table next to the television? What you didn't see was the catheter that Unknown Soldier is already in the process of shoving into Mister Mystery's penis.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Ouch. Watch that shit. You don't want to mash it like that. Insert it gently so I'm not walking around with a black and blue dick for weeks.

Suddenly some of our questions from the previous promo are becoming clear.

Peter watches in horror as Soldier finishes shoving the catheter in place and blood pours from Mister Mystery's penis.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Ok Gilmour, now this is where you're really going to help me out. Take that device on the table, open it up, and piss into it.

:Gilmour:
What????

:MM 17 31707 1:
I'm pretty fucking sure you heard me. We don't have time to waste. Do it.

Peter grabs the device, pops open its lid, and pisses into it because he had to take a huge piss anyway and by now this is the least of his worries out of the things he's been forced to do today.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Alright, good. Now set it down next to me and hook those hoses together. Put that end into the device and let Soldier plug the other end of the hose into this catheter. Hurry up.

Peter quickly does as he's told as Soldier grabs his end of the hose and jams it into the catheter, causing Mister Mystery to jump and scream.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Mother fucker! Careful with that!

Unknown Soldier pats Mister Mystery's bloody dick and apologizes as Peter Gilmour just stands there with his eyes ready to pop out of his skull. The machine is hooked up and Unknown Soldier flips a switch on the machine.

Peter watches as his own, steroid-free urine is filtered through the clear hose and slowly up into Mister Mystery's own penis while Mystery sits on the table. Mystery begins to groan and moan as the piss enters his system.

:MM 17 31707 1:
Oh my god, guys. I need you. Come here!

He grabs hold of Unknown Soldier's hand and Peter Gilmour's hand. He squeezes their hands and lets out a loudest roar of his entire life as Soldier and Gilmour's hands almost get crushed into dust from how hard he's squeezing. It's almost like he's giving birth and they're there to support him as he screams in pain and almost rips their arms off of their bodies.

:MM 17 31707 1:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

They continue to hold his hands as his body receives the entire load of Peter's urine. Mister Mystery falls back on the table and lets out a huge sigh of relief once it's over and Unknown Soldier rips the catheter out!

:MM 17 31707 1:
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

:Unknown Soldier:
It was Peter!

Soldier whips Peter repeatedly with the hose as blood and piss get all over him.







Ladies and gentlefucks -- we've just seen the most solid display of team work that we've ever been witness to in the XWF.

And yes -- for those wondering -- General Manager Blackwater did eventually call Mister Mystery back after the piss test and confirmed for him-

-that he had passed with flying colors.

Literally. Mostly red and gold.

:Gilmour:
Stop whipping me with that damn hose, Soldier! Fuck!


]]> <![CDATA[The Last Supper]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1942 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 15:51:28 -0700 Unknown Soldier]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1942
The car doors of the demonic limo similar to what you would see in a Rob Zombie video open to reveal the sinister trio team of Mister Mystery, Peter Gilmour, and Unknown Soldier. Greeted by a sleu of creatures varying from werewolves, vampires, and hideous ogres; cheers inflate the noise of the surrounding area as they make their way down a red carpet. This carpet is given a dark red hue of blood that it has soaked up from the millions of dead humans and creatures that lay at the trio's feet. Each member of the group is forced to step over random bits of limbs and other various body parts as they make their way inside the lavishing, yet demonic, restaurant known as the Gauntlet City Diner. Soldier and Mystery don't seem to mind their bare feet being soaked and dampened by the blood spilling. Like squeezing a shammy, the thick blood protrudes from the carpet that can barely absorb the massive amounts of blood that was spilled in front of them. The volume of blood in the carpet is immense and so it easily leaks when the three walk on it.

Gilmour decides it's best to put on a pair of shoes before catching up with the group as they make their way inside a restaurant with only one table and three chairs. It appears that this place was only meant to accommodate the two psychopaths of the group. The chairs are constructed of human bones and flesh, which Mystery and Soldier waste no time relaxing in as they both prepare for a waiter to arrive. Gimlour, on the other hand prefers to stand. Soldier and Mystery begin digging through the menus placed in front of them and converse like a couple out on a date.

Unknown Soldier: "Yes, Angelus blood is a strong wine used to pair perfectly with almost any exquisite meal. Don't you agree?"

Soldier shoots a glance at Mystery while stroking his chin and shaking his head

Mister Myster: "Hmmm.... Indeed, what say you Gilmour?"

The pair turn to their partner and await his answer.

Peter Gilmour: "Just a beer for me."

Mystery and Soldier laugh as the waiter makes his way over to the table. Oddly enough, this waiter is the only normal human being inside this twisted world and restaurant we are all now subjected too by watching this promo. A tall man wearing a suit and tie with a slicked back haircut and a shit eating grin on his face.

Waiter: "I couldn't help but overhear you two discussing the Angelus blood we have this evening and so I've brought a sample from the bar for you to help make your decision."

The waiter pours from a goblet into to Riedel wine glasses that sit in front of both Soldier and Mystery and Gilmour interrupts.

Peter Gilmour: "I'll just have the Budweiser for now."

The waiter looks at both Mystery and Soldier before he starts to laugh. Soldier and Mystery join in on the round of chuckles as Gilmour finally realizes that Budweiser is not on the menu. He scoffs and walks off in the distance over to a pay phone where he dials the local Domino's to come and deliver pizza.

Soldier and Mystery now collect themselves from laughing long enough to taste the wine. The pair slowly stir the wine in their hands to let off the aroma of blood in their nostrils. Which immediately gives Soldier an enormous boner. Soldier and Mystery cheers their wine glasses and swallow the entire glass of wine whole. They stand up and smash their wine glasses against the floor and laugh hysterically. The waiter interrupts their session of chuckles by asking a question.

Waiter: "So, what'll it be tonight guys?

Mystery doesn't look too pleased that he was interrupted and shoots a devastating glance in the waiter's direction. Although he seems displeased by the statements he calms himself before answering.

Mystery: "How is the Mark Flynn prepared tonight?"

He asks inquizitorally.

Waiter: "Poached, with a side of NAZI liver."

Both of them are interrupted by Unknown Soldier who was digging through his menu.

Unknown Soldier: "Look! Look Mystery they have a special tonight called. "The John Madison feast!" Every single one of his body parts prepared a different way to unleash distinct flavor, juiciness, and tender meat of John Madison and all his features. Wanna split it with me?"

Mystery: "I got a better idea, waiter... How about you just order us one of everything. Will take all the other 29 wrestlers on the menu and have an enormous feast!"

Soldier jumps to his feet and claps his hands in approval like a giddy school girl.

Unknown Soldier: "The feast, the feast. Bring on THE FEAST!"

The waiter's smile gets big as he expects an enormous tip with such a massive order.

At that moment, in walks the Domino's pizza delivery man with a large pepperoni pie. Glancing and staring around the room, most likely petrified by the disturbing images in front of him. He walks over to Gilmour and hands him his pie as they make the transaction and the delivery man hands over the pizza. The waiter is immediately appalled and can no longer hold back his thoughts.

Waiter: "You can't order a pizza in a five star restaurant, you idiot!"

The waiter crosses the room and reaches out to steal the pizza from Gilmour's hands but instead...

Mystery and Soldier grab him by the shoulders and with a combination effort, they slam him through the table with a double body slam. The two begin tearing him apart as pieces of intestines and other internal organs begin flying in the air while the two predator's feast on his lifeless body.

The scene fades as Mystery's laughter echoes throughout the room's elevated ceiling. Soldier is howling like a wolf hovered over it's prey with blood dripping from his face.

Gilmour walks over to the camera before it fades out like Porky pig in a Looney Tunes cartoonand makes a statement before taking a big bite of pepperoni pizza.

Peter Gilmour: "B-B-B-B.... That's all folks!"

-------

The following scene takes place immediately before the start of Gauntlet City:

Unknown Soldier had finally slowed down on the drinking and methamphetamine consumption long enough to remember where his prize was kept hidden from him. The house of his once rival and pitiful excuse of a man was within his reach. This is where he would retrieve his rightful possession. The rest of the world had their chance to obtain the piece, but failed to listen to the demon Vassago when they had their chance. It was either that or they had forgot where he left the necklace in the first place. it was the only hope the rest of the XWF had at stopping Satan's Soldier. Once the creature of the night known as the Midnight Stalker, is able to reclaim his prize the XWF world can do nothing but bow and Hail before their lord and master... SATAN!

Soldier walked along the side walk shrouded in mystery and darkness as he marched through the wild underbrush that lay just outside of the house where Page dwell. His child still bear power to the necklace, until the dark lord of SATAN! proclaimed his soul of little to no significance. He tricked the boy into believing he was befriending a demon, but instead chose to relinquish the powers of the artifact so that he would have the strength to win the Gauntlet. Soldier hovered outside the bedroom of the small child while humming Satanic hymns to himself and staring like a major creep through his window. His wicked stare is able to unlock the doors from the outside, most likely using the powers of SATAN! to get closer to his prize. Sliding through a small crack of his window like a shadow from the outside, then magically transitioning back to human form, he was able to sneak in to a point where he could hover over the sleeping child.

The demon servant sees his prize dangling off the child's neck. He smiles and loses his thoughts as he stared back into the inverted pentagram. The necklace seemed to be winking back at him and calling to get back to its rightful owner.

Closer...


Closer...


He moves in for the kill as he hovers over the child's sleeping body, staring not at him but only the necklace. The sinister creature is unable to realize that his deep thoughts have caused the rest of his body to shut down as far as the nerve endings were concerned on how to feel or know what was happening. The sight of his possession caused him to lose control of his body, in which saliva was drooling from off the edge of his lip...

Trickling down off the edge of his chin and on to...

The boys face...

He awakens abruptly and starts frantically searching throughout the room looking for what could have caused this droplet of rain to land directly on the top of his forehead. He finds nothing. He sees no sign of anything.

He reaches down to find...


The inverted pentagram necklace was gone....










Slammed to the ceiling!



That's where the scene goes as you are immediately thrown on your back and forced to realize that you were a part of this escapade as a simple observer. The scene freezes of the boy gripping tightly to his neck realizing his necklace was gone. Staring up at the ceiling as your forced to lay on your back by some unseen force controlling your ability to move. What's happening?

Another trip inside The Void?

A bright light peels itself from the picture as the face of the boy disappears inside this light that continues to grow. Like an old movie film that has ended, the final scene slowly fades as this bright light grows larger... As the former scene of the young boy has now dissipated, it becomes a scene of the heavens and the sky. Inside this light forms a vortex, that opens and out of the light descending upon you is an Angel...

[Image: lucifer-dore.jpg]

Have you died and went to heaven?

That answer is quickly revealed to you when you notice the horns protruding from the Angel's forehead and an immense sense of fear overcomes you. The prescience of this angel alone, has caused every negative emotion you have ever felt to overtake you as you drift into a state of depression.

The image of the horned angel speaks with a raspy low voice that hisses while the edge of his tongue patters against his lips.

Angel: "Do you know who I am? You've all seen me before in the form of temptation and sin in the world in which you live. I'm sure you've read the story. It's one of the longest and most known among your realm.

I know who you are.

You are the XWF world that insists upon holding back the title that rightfully belongs to me. My quest to become King was held back from me many, many centuries ago by a traitor who vanished before me like a coward. You think I don't know about your conversations with him? The one they call Vassago? Ha! Did you think that a mere prince would be able to overthrow me with the help of your insignificant efforts? I possess again the single greatest power that exists in the realm of man. I posses a Soldier that will unleash the power of the artifact to the XWF world. That power is so undeniably evil and great that NOBODY stands to stop me in my quest to become KING again.

I am the serpent of the night.

I am the feeder on the weak and cowardly like you and your friend Vassago.

The world has watched for many years on the last day of the Pentecost as my mortal enemy Jesus rises from his grave. This year it will be my turn. It was me who recruited Judas Iscariot to eliminate Jesus over two thousand years prior to this exact date in history.

The same way I've recruited Dante Kyllen to destroy your mortal realm and XWF universe now. I have retrieved my piece of mortal power once again, and so now the only thing the XWF can do is hand over the title that is rightfully mine!


















KING SATAN! OF THE XWF!



My Soldier will not hold back anything in the Gauntlet until the rest of you follow in his preachings when you bow down and finally proclaim to your King....



































HAIL SATAN!
]]>
The car doors of the demonic limo similar to what you would see in a Rob Zombie video open to reveal the sinister trio team of Mister Mystery, Peter Gilmour, and Unknown Soldier. Greeted by a sleu of creatures varying from werewolves, vampires, and hideous ogres; cheers inflate the noise of the surrounding area as they make their way down a red carpet. This carpet is given a dark red hue of blood that it has soaked up from the millions of dead humans and creatures that lay at the trio's feet. Each member of the group is forced to step over random bits of limbs and other various body parts as they make their way inside the lavishing, yet demonic, restaurant known as the Gauntlet City Diner. Soldier and Mystery don't seem to mind their bare feet being soaked and dampened by the blood spilling. Like squeezing a shammy, the thick blood protrudes from the carpet that can barely absorb the massive amounts of blood that was spilled in front of them. The volume of blood in the carpet is immense and so it easily leaks when the three walk on it.

Gilmour decides it's best to put on a pair of shoes before catching up with the group as they make their way inside a restaurant with only one table and three chairs. It appears that this place was only meant to accommodate the two psychopaths of the group. The chairs are constructed of human bones and flesh, which Mystery and Soldier waste no time relaxing in as they both prepare for a waiter to arrive. Gimlour, on the other hand prefers to stand. Soldier and Mystery begin digging through the menus placed in front of them and converse like a couple out on a date.

Unknown Soldier: "Yes, Angelus blood is a strong wine used to pair perfectly with almost any exquisite meal. Don't you agree?"

Soldier shoots a glance at Mystery while stroking his chin and shaking his head

Mister Myster: "Hmmm.... Indeed, what say you Gilmour?"

The pair turn to their partner and await his answer.

Peter Gilmour: "Just a beer for me."

Mystery and Soldier laugh as the waiter makes his way over to the table. Oddly enough, this waiter is the only normal human being inside this twisted world and restaurant we are all now subjected too by watching this promo. A tall man wearing a suit and tie with a slicked back haircut and a shit eating grin on his face.

Waiter: "I couldn't help but overhear you two discussing the Angelus blood we have this evening and so I've brought a sample from the bar for you to help make your decision."

The waiter pours from a goblet into to Riedel wine glasses that sit in front of both Soldier and Mystery and Gilmour interrupts.

Peter Gilmour: "I'll just have the Budweiser for now."

The waiter looks at both Mystery and Soldier before he starts to laugh. Soldier and Mystery join in on the round of chuckles as Gilmour finally realizes that Budweiser is not on the menu. He scoffs and walks off in the distance over to a pay phone where he dials the local Domino's to come and deliver pizza.

Soldier and Mystery now collect themselves from laughing long enough to taste the wine. The pair slowly stir the wine in their hands to let off the aroma of blood in their nostrils. Which immediately gives Soldier an enormous boner. Soldier and Mystery cheers their wine glasses and swallow the entire glass of wine whole. They stand up and smash their wine glasses against the floor and laugh hysterically. The waiter interrupts their session of chuckles by asking a question.

Waiter: "So, what'll it be tonight guys?

Mystery doesn't look too pleased that he was interrupted and shoots a devastating glance in the waiter's direction. Although he seems displeased by the statements he calms himself before answering.

Mystery: "How is the Mark Flynn prepared tonight?"

He asks inquizitorally.

Waiter: "Poached, with a side of NAZI liver."

Both of them are interrupted by Unknown Soldier who was digging through his menu.

Unknown Soldier: "Look! Look Mystery they have a special tonight called. "The John Madison feast!" Every single one of his body parts prepared a different way to unleash distinct flavor, juiciness, and tender meat of John Madison and all his features. Wanna split it with me?"

Mystery: "I got a better idea, waiter... How about you just order us one of everything. Will take all the other 29 wrestlers on the menu and have an enormous feast!"

Soldier jumps to his feet and claps his hands in approval like a giddy school girl.

Unknown Soldier: "The feast, the feast. Bring on THE FEAST!"

The waiter's smile gets big as he expects an enormous tip with such a massive order.

At that moment, in walks the Domino's pizza delivery man with a large pepperoni pie. Glancing and staring around the room, most likely petrified by the disturbing images in front of him. He walks over to Gilmour and hands him his pie as they make the transaction and the delivery man hands over the pizza. The waiter is immediately appalled and can no longer hold back his thoughts.

Waiter: "You can't order a pizza in a five star restaurant, you idiot!"

The waiter crosses the room and reaches out to steal the pizza from Gilmour's hands but instead...

Mystery and Soldier grab him by the shoulders and with a combination effort, they slam him through the table with a double body slam. The two begin tearing him apart as pieces of intestines and other internal organs begin flying in the air while the two predator's feast on his lifeless body.

The scene fades as Mystery's laughter echoes throughout the room's elevated ceiling. Soldier is howling like a wolf hovered over it's prey with blood dripping from his face.

Gilmour walks over to the camera before it fades out like Porky pig in a Looney Tunes cartoonand makes a statement before taking a big bite of pepperoni pizza.

Peter Gilmour: "B-B-B-B.... That's all folks!"

-------

The following scene takes place immediately before the start of Gauntlet City:

Unknown Soldier had finally slowed down on the drinking and methamphetamine consumption long enough to remember where his prize was kept hidden from him. The house of his once rival and pitiful excuse of a man was within his reach. This is where he would retrieve his rightful possession. The rest of the world had their chance to obtain the piece, but failed to listen to the demon Vassago when they had their chance. It was either that or they had forgot where he left the necklace in the first place. it was the only hope the rest of the XWF had at stopping Satan's Soldier. Once the creature of the night known as the Midnight Stalker, is able to reclaim his prize the XWF world can do nothing but bow and Hail before their lord and master... SATAN!

Soldier walked along the side walk shrouded in mystery and darkness as he marched through the wild underbrush that lay just outside of the house where Page dwell. His child still bear power to the necklace, until the dark lord of SATAN! proclaimed his soul of little to no significance. He tricked the boy into believing he was befriending a demon, but instead chose to relinquish the powers of the artifact so that he would have the strength to win the Gauntlet. Soldier hovered outside the bedroom of the small child while humming Satanic hymns to himself and staring like a major creep through his window. His wicked stare is able to unlock the doors from the outside, most likely using the powers of SATAN! to get closer to his prize. Sliding through a small crack of his window like a shadow from the outside, then magically transitioning back to human form, he was able to sneak in to a point where he could hover over the sleeping child.

The demon servant sees his prize dangling off the child's neck. He smiles and loses his thoughts as he stared back into the inverted pentagram. The necklace seemed to be winking back at him and calling to get back to its rightful owner.

Closer...


Closer...


He moves in for the kill as he hovers over the child's sleeping body, staring not at him but only the necklace. The sinister creature is unable to realize that his deep thoughts have caused the rest of his body to shut down as far as the nerve endings were concerned on how to feel or know what was happening. The sight of his possession caused him to lose control of his body, in which saliva was drooling from off the edge of his lip...

Trickling down off the edge of his chin and on to...

The boys face...

He awakens abruptly and starts frantically searching throughout the room looking for what could have caused this droplet of rain to land directly on the top of his forehead. He finds nothing. He sees no sign of anything.

He reaches down to find...


The inverted pentagram necklace was gone....










Slammed to the ceiling!



That's where the scene goes as you are immediately thrown on your back and forced to realize that you were a part of this escapade as a simple observer. The scene freezes of the boy gripping tightly to his neck realizing his necklace was gone. Staring up at the ceiling as your forced to lay on your back by some unseen force controlling your ability to move. What's happening?

Another trip inside The Void?

A bright light peels itself from the picture as the face of the boy disappears inside this light that continues to grow. Like an old movie film that has ended, the final scene slowly fades as this bright light grows larger... As the former scene of the young boy has now dissipated, it becomes a scene of the heavens and the sky. Inside this light forms a vortex, that opens and out of the light descending upon you is an Angel...

[Image: lucifer-dore.jpg]

Have you died and went to heaven?

That answer is quickly revealed to you when you notice the horns protruding from the Angel's forehead and an immense sense of fear overcomes you. The prescience of this angel alone, has caused every negative emotion you have ever felt to overtake you as you drift into a state of depression.

The image of the horned angel speaks with a raspy low voice that hisses while the edge of his tongue patters against his lips.

Angel: "Do you know who I am? You've all seen me before in the form of temptation and sin in the world in which you live. I'm sure you've read the story. It's one of the longest and most known among your realm.

I know who you are.

You are the XWF world that insists upon holding back the title that rightfully belongs to me. My quest to become King was held back from me many, many centuries ago by a traitor who vanished before me like a coward. You think I don't know about your conversations with him? The one they call Vassago? Ha! Did you think that a mere prince would be able to overthrow me with the help of your insignificant efforts? I possess again the single greatest power that exists in the realm of man. I posses a Soldier that will unleash the power of the artifact to the XWF world. That power is so undeniably evil and great that NOBODY stands to stop me in my quest to become KING again.

I am the serpent of the night.

I am the feeder on the weak and cowardly like you and your friend Vassago.

The world has watched for many years on the last day of the Pentecost as my mortal enemy Jesus rises from his grave. This year it will be my turn. It was me who recruited Judas Iscariot to eliminate Jesus over two thousand years prior to this exact date in history.

The same way I've recruited Dante Kyllen to destroy your mortal realm and XWF universe now. I have retrieved my piece of mortal power once again, and so now the only thing the XWF can do is hand over the title that is rightfully mine!


















KING SATAN! OF THE XWF!



My Soldier will not hold back anything in the Gauntlet until the rest of you follow in his preachings when you bow down and finally proclaim to your King....



































HAIL SATAN!
]]> <![CDATA[Jeff Hardy in "Sorry...I just don't care"]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1941 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 15:50:05 -0700 Jeff Hardy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1941 From deep bellow the waters surface a rumble is heard. The waters shake and tremble as a creature stirs. A creature the like of which the world has never seen. A demon of the deep. A monster with one thing in mind and that one thing is destruction. Bubbles rise up and the water churns as this vile beast rises. Higher he swims and closer to the surface he gets. He's hungry but it's not really known for certain what he's hungry for? Your destruction? That's a simple task achieved so how could it be that? Your flesh? You're but barely a morsel to this monster. So it couldn't be that. Perhaps the beast isn't hungry at all, he's just bored and wants to stir up trouble? That must be it. That makes sense. I mean it's gotta be pretty fucking boring being the only monster of the deep. Nothing to do but dwell in the murky depths. Anyway this creature is on it's way up so rather than focusing on the "why" let's just move past that and notice it for what it is. Notice this big ol' sack of attention grabbing fright before it gets upset and sinks back below the surface.


In fact let's stop referring to this creature as a beast at all. Let's put some reality on the matter. This creature isn't rising from the depths, although it feels like it should be from the realm of obscurity it's crawled out of. No, this isn't going to be a fight with the Kraken or Godzilla. That would be fun if it was. That would be entertaining. That might actually pose a challenge. No, this foul beastie is of a different and more human variety. This fearsome foe wandering up from the dark realms of the lost is none other that NEONERO! Gasp! Shudder! I'm scared, I'm really fucking scared. Can you tell? Can you see me trembling at the thought? You can't tell? That's because I'm not. I'm not trembling. I'm not shaking. I'm not afraid. I'm in a match called "Chamber Of Horrors" and I couldn't feel less afraid. I'd catch more worry and dread from a match with Tickle Me Elmo. That's right. Tickle Me Elmo would make me sweat this match more than Neonero.


I mean look at him.


Really look at him.





Would you be afraid of this man?


Would he strike fear into your hearts?


Make you sweat and start to doubt yourself?


No.


If you're wondering the answer is....no.


I doubt you were wondering but I still thought I should inform you nonetheless. It's a solid NO! To the point and direct in affirmation. Just like a straight man would answer a request from a for some idle buggery. NO! The doesn't even need to make lewd comments and joke about Japanese tentacle porn, the "NO!" is so sincere and flat out. In fact this "NO!" is so undeniable and certain it may be the surest answer given in the history of answers presented to questions. NO! I do not fear Neonero. Even if this man can best me in such a bizarre and haphazardly thought out match as the "Chamber Of Horrors".......I won't fear him. Hell, he could beat me in the "Treehouse Of Horrors" match next and I still wouldn't tremble at the thought of Neonero. So tonight Neonero brings his A+ game to the match I'm bringing my D- game to, let's see how that works out. Fingers crossed, right? What's gonna happen? I don't know. This whole uncertainty I'm feeling is really starting to bring me down. Perhaps I'll cheer myself up by doing a line or twelve. That sounds about right. Really bring that solid D- level I'm performing at down to it's knees! Just really emphasis I'm not even going to attempt to try here. No disrespect or anything old chap but did you expect anything less? I'm Jeff Hardy, right? I'm the shit head you didn't give your full game to the first moment we met. So why should I bother to give you anything more then what you gave me? Or maybe it's not even that? Maybe I just don't care anymore? Yeah, let's go with that! That sounds good! Okay now that we've established that, let's get this match over with. ]]> From deep bellow the waters surface a rumble is heard. The waters shake and tremble as a creature stirs. A creature the like of which the world has never seen. A demon of the deep. A monster with one thing in mind and that one thing is destruction. Bubbles rise up and the water churns as this vile beast rises. Higher he swims and closer to the surface he gets. He's hungry but it's not really known for certain what he's hungry for? Your destruction? That's a simple task achieved so how could it be that? Your flesh? You're but barely a morsel to this monster. So it couldn't be that. Perhaps the beast isn't hungry at all, he's just bored and wants to stir up trouble? That must be it. That makes sense. I mean it's gotta be pretty fucking boring being the only monster of the deep. Nothing to do but dwell in the murky depths. Anyway this creature is on it's way up so rather than focusing on the "why" let's just move past that and notice it for what it is. Notice this big ol' sack of attention grabbing fright before it gets upset and sinks back below the surface.


In fact let's stop referring to this creature as a beast at all. Let's put some reality on the matter. This creature isn't rising from the depths, although it feels like it should be from the realm of obscurity it's crawled out of. No, this isn't going to be a fight with the Kraken or Godzilla. That would be fun if it was. That would be entertaining. That might actually pose a challenge. No, this foul beastie is of a different and more human variety. This fearsome foe wandering up from the dark realms of the lost is none other that NEONERO! Gasp! Shudder! I'm scared, I'm really fucking scared. Can you tell? Can you see me trembling at the thought? You can't tell? That's because I'm not. I'm not trembling. I'm not shaking. I'm not afraid. I'm in a match called "Chamber Of Horrors" and I couldn't feel less afraid. I'd catch more worry and dread from a match with Tickle Me Elmo. That's right. Tickle Me Elmo would make me sweat this match more than Neonero.


I mean look at him.


Really look at him.





Would you be afraid of this man?


Would he strike fear into your hearts?


Make you sweat and start to doubt yourself?


No.


If you're wondering the answer is....no.


I doubt you were wondering but I still thought I should inform you nonetheless. It's a solid NO! To the point and direct in affirmation. Just like a straight man would answer a request from a for some idle buggery. NO! The doesn't even need to make lewd comments and joke about Japanese tentacle porn, the "NO!" is so sincere and flat out. In fact this "NO!" is so undeniable and certain it may be the surest answer given in the history of answers presented to questions. NO! I do not fear Neonero. Even if this man can best me in such a bizarre and haphazardly thought out match as the "Chamber Of Horrors".......I won't fear him. Hell, he could beat me in the "Treehouse Of Horrors" match next and I still wouldn't tremble at the thought of Neonero. So tonight Neonero brings his A+ game to the match I'm bringing my D- game to, let's see how that works out. Fingers crossed, right? What's gonna happen? I don't know. This whole uncertainty I'm feeling is really starting to bring me down. Perhaps I'll cheer myself up by doing a line or twelve. That sounds about right. Really bring that solid D- level I'm performing at down to it's knees! Just really emphasis I'm not even going to attempt to try here. No disrespect or anything old chap but did you expect anything less? I'm Jeff Hardy, right? I'm the shit head you didn't give your full game to the first moment we met. So why should I bother to give you anything more then what you gave me? Or maybe it's not even that? Maybe I just don't care anymore? Yeah, let's go with that! That sounds good! Okay now that we've established that, let's get this match over with. ]]> <![CDATA[The End of Silas (US Title/Gauntlet - RP 8)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1887 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 15:17:23 -0700 Sebastian Duke]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1887 Saturday, March 30, 2013 - 10:55 AM EST


Like any morning in the Compound, Silas, Jacob, Asmodeus and Sebastian Duke are gathered within the library. Each sipping coffee and sitting where they typically sit. Duke and Silas on matching chairs against the wall with a table between them. Jacob and Asmodeus share a matching sofa.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "So, its been decided."

ASMODEUS: "What has?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Silas's secret has been compromised. As a result, he's decided to leave the Compound."

ASMODEUS: "Silas, is this true?"

JACOB: "You can't go! You need us and we need you."

SILAS: "Yeah, its true. Jake, I'll be fine and so will all of you."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I've let him know our doors will always be open to him. Whether its as Silas or his true identity is up to him."


Their conversation gets cut off by a ringing of the telephone.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Unknown caller."

ASMODEUS: "I doubt its Benedict."

JACOB: "Somehow, I think its Jonathan."


Sebastian hits the speaker button.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Go ahead. This is Sebastian Duke."

JONATHAN: "Oh come now! Sebastian, you act as if I'd forget that voice of yours."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Jonathan, how are ya? I hoped I'd hear from you again."

JONATHAN: "What kind of friend would I be if I disappointed you?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Friend. I hope you use that term loosely."

JONATHAN: "Ahh. The loosest, Duke."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "You know, I told your dad the other day that you'd be back around again. He disagreed."

JONATHAN: "Simple Duke. Still believing your own lies."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Well, people like us Jonathan, lies, truths, none of it matters. Just shadows walking between the raindrops."

JONATHAN: "Ahh, Duke! I couldn't have said that any better myself!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Benedict also suggested we call this off."

JONATHAN: "I don't see that happening."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Yeah, I told him that."

JONATHAN: "See, this isn't over. Not by a long shot."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I couldn't agree with you more."

JONATHAN: "There is only one way this ends."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Your death."

JONATHAN: "Yes well, or yours of course."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Good luck with that."

JONATHAN: "So arrogant, Sebastian. Need I remind you, that working alone, and you with all the help at your disposal, nearly took you out?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "That's not how I see it."

JONATHAN: "Oh? How do you see it? Enlighten me, Duke."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I baited you. You took the bait. Hook, line and sinker. You swallowed that bitch whole."

JONATHAN: "Perhaps. Though, I doubt I'll make the same mistake twice."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Would you care for some advice from your adversary, Jonathan?"

JONATHAN: "Oh boy! Here comes the enlightenment!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Rule number one. Never forgive and never forget."

JONATHAN: "Such wisdom."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Rule number two. Do to others before they do to you."

JONATHAN: "I thought I covered that one pretty well."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Rule number three. This is the most important one. Keep an eye on your friends, because your enemies will take care of themselves."

JONATHAN: "Oohhhh. I like that one. Did the High Priest teach you that one?

"By the way, you have a rat. A friend of mine in your ranks. Can't wait to see you sniff this one out."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Funny thing is, I already know. I also know who it is. He's about to out himself here in a few hours. Just so you know, I've had the power cut to all of the internet capabilities. Oh, and I jammed cell service. So, good luck getting a warning to him.

"Just remember, you will take care of yourself. When you least expect it, the Brotherhood will cut you down!"


Duke ends the call and this scene fades out.




Saturday, March 30, 2013 - 2:38 PM EST


Sebastian has gathered every last member of the Brotherhood and had them all line up on either side of the main corridor. Jacob, Asmodeus and Sebastian stand at the head of the hall near the large double doors.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "You might be wondering why I've gathered you like this. The fact is, coming through that door any second, is Silas. He's decided to leave us for a little while."


Low murmuring and chatter pick up.


JACOB: "Your Leader is not yet finished."


The 264 Brothers lining the long corridor fall silent.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Brothers, I will explain why at another time. Right now though, he feels he needs to accomplish something. He has our full support. He knows, and so should all of you, these doors are to remain open for him should he choose to return."


The door at the end of the corridor swings open and out steps Silas. He stands as if frozen in time. He wasn't expecting a big send off. He only intended to leave the way he entered. Quietly.

As he makes he way toward the front door, nearly every Brother either shakes his hand or pats his shoulder as he walks by. It never fails though. Each and every last one of them tried to sneak a peek at Silas's face under the hood. None of course, were able to do so.

He reaches the half way point of the corridor and one of the Brothers jumps out of the line and on to Silas's back. With lightning quick reflexes, Silas snapmares the Brother over his shoulder to the floor below. After the Brother lands...














SNAP!




Silas snaps the mans neck like it was nothing. The Brother lies the helpless and motionless as he draws his final breaths. Unbeknownst to anyone, Silas has lost his monk robe in the scuffle. Everyone has their focus on the dying Brother.

JACOB: "Wait. Who is he?"

BROTHER 1: "Eric?"

BROTHER 2: "Naah. That's John."

BROTHER 3: "No, John is over there. That's James."

JACOB: "He's been here for years. How can we not know his name?"

BROTHER 4: "It's, it's gotta be Kane!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "That's Matthew. Brother Matthew. Dig a grave for..."

MATTHEW: "But, I'm Matthew."


Sebastian, Jacob and Asmodeus all look at each other.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Well, bury him tonight anyhow."


Silas continues his march toward the front of the line. Continuing to shake the hands of the Brothers on his way.


SILAS: "Asmo, I know you went through a lot of trouble and bent rules in order to help keep my..."

ASMODEUS: "Its been fun, Silas. Truth be told I'd do it all again. You're not what I expected."


Silas extends his hand toward Asmodeus. Asmo just looks at it.


ASMODEUS: "Brothers don't shake hands... Brothers HUG!"


Asmodeus grips Silas in a hug who reluctantly returns the gesture.


SILAS: "Ok, that's enough! Get off me!

"Jesus Asmo! Get a grip!"


Silas straightens his back after the hug from Asmo and comes to Sebastian Duke.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Silas. I've told you before. I'm telling you again. These doors are always open to you."

SILAS: "Jesus, Duke! Always yammering on and on and shit! I'm so glad that's the last I'll ever have to hear from you! My only wish is that I could bring Brother Skippy or Sloppy or whoever the hell he was back so I could thank him for making my decision to leave that much easier."


Duke and Silas both laugh as they shake hands. In mid-shake, Duke slips something in Silas's hand. Silas opens his hand to reveal a set of keys.


SILAS: "What are these for?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "The Suburban right there. You're going to need help. I can't be there to do it. I had the Suburbans heavily armored after Lucas's accident. It should keep you safe. There's also ten grand in the center console. It should help you on your... journey."


Duke hands Silas a cell phone.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Just in case you need my help. Help, money, whatever you need. I'm just a phone call away."


Silas climbs into the Suburban and takes off down the long drive. Duke watches as he stops at where the gates used to be. Silas steers the truck to the right and heads down Galileo Drive when Duke receives a text.


SILAS: "Usual place. Tonight. Bitch."


Duke laughs out loud and responds to the text.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Wouldn't miss it. See you then."


Sebastian Duke heads back inside as this scene fades out.




Saturday, March 30, 2013 - 10:28 PM EST


Sebastian Duke reaches the lake and climbs out of the old truck. He strolls to the front and takes a seat on the hood. The cooler behind him, he reaches in and takes out a Budweiser and pops the top and takes a long gulp.

He begins to wonder if Silas will show up as he cracks open a third cold one. Off to the left, in the distance and out of sight he hears a snap. A snap like a twig. Dukes senses reach high alert as he looks around. He sees nothing and his heart starts racing.

His thoughts start going through the possibilities. Did Jonathan intercept Silas? Did Jonathan know he'd be out here tonight?

Off to the right he hears a click and a flash of light out of the corner of his eye.

That's when he sees him.





































[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQuPJH9Q3UrbHiwbtwVo3v...Ss_taGhJrP]


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Griffin fuckin' MacAlister! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

NICK DONNELLY: "Nick Donnelly, remember? What's wrong Duke? Scare ya?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Not that. I just thought Jonathan might have intercepted you or something."

NICK DONNELLY: "Ha! Not likely. I'd snap that boy like a twig."


Nick hops op on the hood of the truck. Duke takes a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label out of the cooler and hands it to Nick.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "So what's up? Why'd you call me out here tonight?"

NICK DONNELLY: "I just wanted to..."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "You wanted to what?"

NICK DONNELLY: "You know. I just wanted to thank you for..."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Ahh! Man, don't mention it."

NICK DONNELLY: "No, seriously, the other night. When you saved my ass..."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I mean it! Don't mention it! You think I want anyone to know I saved your sorry ass?"

NICK DONNELLY: "Anyhow, I just wanted to thank you for that."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "It's too bad, really."

NICK DONNELLY: "What is?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "The way we started off on the wrong foot."

NICK DONNELLY: "What do you mean?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Well, we could have been able to help each other out if we weren't out to get each other."

NICK DONNELLY: "True."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "The thing is, we make much better friends than we ever did enemies."

NICK DONNELLY: "Hell, man. I'll drink to that!"


They clang their bottles together and each take a large gulp.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "When you take care of whatever it is you need to take care of, you should think about coming back here."

NICK DONNELLY: "Why the fuck would I wanna do that?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Start a Hitman for Hire business."

NICK DONNELLY: "A what? Are you drunk?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Ha! Seriously. Duke and Donnelly: Hitmen for Hire. The Kennedy money will run out eventually. The XWF money is good but not enough to sustain the Brotherhood."

NICK DONNELLY: "Not a chance! Besides, it would be Donnelly and Duke.

"Wait. What do you mean Kennedy money?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I never told you about that did I?"

NICK DONNELLY: "Nope."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Ha! When Lucas was alive, he set up a fake charity. Based here in New England with a fictitious address. I told him to load up the stationary with sad puppies and cancer kids. The Kennedy's donated like fifty million."

NICK DONNELLY: "Whhhat? You're lyin'!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I'm serious! Except thanks to that fuckhead, Griffin MacAlister, I spent like thirty million on security."

NICK DONNELLY: "Oh yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Bitch! Pass me that blunt!"


Nick passes the blunt to Duke and they chat away in the darkness as the scene fades out and the story of Silas comes to its conclusion.]]> Saturday, March 30, 2013 - 10:55 AM EST


Like any morning in the Compound, Silas, Jacob, Asmodeus and Sebastian Duke are gathered within the library. Each sipping coffee and sitting where they typically sit. Duke and Silas on matching chairs against the wall with a table between them. Jacob and Asmodeus share a matching sofa.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "So, its been decided."

ASMODEUS: "What has?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Silas's secret has been compromised. As a result, he's decided to leave the Compound."

ASMODEUS: "Silas, is this true?"

JACOB: "You can't go! You need us and we need you."

SILAS: "Yeah, its true. Jake, I'll be fine and so will all of you."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I've let him know our doors will always be open to him. Whether its as Silas or his true identity is up to him."


Their conversation gets cut off by a ringing of the telephone.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Unknown caller."

ASMODEUS: "I doubt its Benedict."

JACOB: "Somehow, I think its Jonathan."


Sebastian hits the speaker button.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Go ahead. This is Sebastian Duke."

JONATHAN: "Oh come now! Sebastian, you act as if I'd forget that voice of yours."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Jonathan, how are ya? I hoped I'd hear from you again."

JONATHAN: "What kind of friend would I be if I disappointed you?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Friend. I hope you use that term loosely."

JONATHAN: "Ahh. The loosest, Duke."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "You know, I told your dad the other day that you'd be back around again. He disagreed."

JONATHAN: "Simple Duke. Still believing your own lies."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Well, people like us Jonathan, lies, truths, none of it matters. Just shadows walking between the raindrops."

JONATHAN: "Ahh, Duke! I couldn't have said that any better myself!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Benedict also suggested we call this off."

JONATHAN: "I don't see that happening."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Yeah, I told him that."

JONATHAN: "See, this isn't over. Not by a long shot."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I couldn't agree with you more."

JONATHAN: "There is only one way this ends."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Your death."

JONATHAN: "Yes well, or yours of course."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Good luck with that."

JONATHAN: "So arrogant, Sebastian. Need I remind you, that working alone, and you with all the help at your disposal, nearly took you out?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "That's not how I see it."

JONATHAN: "Oh? How do you see it? Enlighten me, Duke."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I baited you. You took the bait. Hook, line and sinker. You swallowed that bitch whole."

JONATHAN: "Perhaps. Though, I doubt I'll make the same mistake twice."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Would you care for some advice from your adversary, Jonathan?"

JONATHAN: "Oh boy! Here comes the enlightenment!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Rule number one. Never forgive and never forget."

JONATHAN: "Such wisdom."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Rule number two. Do to others before they do to you."

JONATHAN: "I thought I covered that one pretty well."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Rule number three. This is the most important one. Keep an eye on your friends, because your enemies will take care of themselves."

JONATHAN: "Oohhhh. I like that one. Did the High Priest teach you that one?

"By the way, you have a rat. A friend of mine in your ranks. Can't wait to see you sniff this one out."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Funny thing is, I already know. I also know who it is. He's about to out himself here in a few hours. Just so you know, I've had the power cut to all of the internet capabilities. Oh, and I jammed cell service. So, good luck getting a warning to him.

"Just remember, you will take care of yourself. When you least expect it, the Brotherhood will cut you down!"


Duke ends the call and this scene fades out.




Saturday, March 30, 2013 - 2:38 PM EST


Sebastian has gathered every last member of the Brotherhood and had them all line up on either side of the main corridor. Jacob, Asmodeus and Sebastian stand at the head of the hall near the large double doors.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "You might be wondering why I've gathered you like this. The fact is, coming through that door any second, is Silas. He's decided to leave us for a little while."


Low murmuring and chatter pick up.


JACOB: "Your Leader is not yet finished."


The 264 Brothers lining the long corridor fall silent.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Brothers, I will explain why at another time. Right now though, he feels he needs to accomplish something. He has our full support. He knows, and so should all of you, these doors are to remain open for him should he choose to return."


The door at the end of the corridor swings open and out steps Silas. He stands as if frozen in time. He wasn't expecting a big send off. He only intended to leave the way he entered. Quietly.

As he makes he way toward the front door, nearly every Brother either shakes his hand or pats his shoulder as he walks by. It never fails though. Each and every last one of them tried to sneak a peek at Silas's face under the hood. None of course, were able to do so.

He reaches the half way point of the corridor and one of the Brothers jumps out of the line and on to Silas's back. With lightning quick reflexes, Silas snapmares the Brother over his shoulder to the floor below. After the Brother lands...














SNAP!




Silas snaps the mans neck like it was nothing. The Brother lies the helpless and motionless as he draws his final breaths. Unbeknownst to anyone, Silas has lost his monk robe in the scuffle. Everyone has their focus on the dying Brother.

JACOB: "Wait. Who is he?"

BROTHER 1: "Eric?"

BROTHER 2: "Naah. That's John."

BROTHER 3: "No, John is over there. That's James."

JACOB: "He's been here for years. How can we not know his name?"

BROTHER 4: "It's, it's gotta be Kane!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "That's Matthew. Brother Matthew. Dig a grave for..."

MATTHEW: "But, I'm Matthew."


Sebastian, Jacob and Asmodeus all look at each other.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Well, bury him tonight anyhow."


Silas continues his march toward the front of the line. Continuing to shake the hands of the Brothers on his way.


SILAS: "Asmo, I know you went through a lot of trouble and bent rules in order to help keep my..."

ASMODEUS: "Its been fun, Silas. Truth be told I'd do it all again. You're not what I expected."


Silas extends his hand toward Asmodeus. Asmo just looks at it.


ASMODEUS: "Brothers don't shake hands... Brothers HUG!"


Asmodeus grips Silas in a hug who reluctantly returns the gesture.


SILAS: "Ok, that's enough! Get off me!

"Jesus Asmo! Get a grip!"


Silas straightens his back after the hug from Asmo and comes to Sebastian Duke.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Silas. I've told you before. I'm telling you again. These doors are always open to you."

SILAS: "Jesus, Duke! Always yammering on and on and shit! I'm so glad that's the last I'll ever have to hear from you! My only wish is that I could bring Brother Skippy or Sloppy or whoever the hell he was back so I could thank him for making my decision to leave that much easier."


Duke and Silas both laugh as they shake hands. In mid-shake, Duke slips something in Silas's hand. Silas opens his hand to reveal a set of keys.


SILAS: "What are these for?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "The Suburban right there. You're going to need help. I can't be there to do it. I had the Suburbans heavily armored after Lucas's accident. It should keep you safe. There's also ten grand in the center console. It should help you on your... journey."


Duke hands Silas a cell phone.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Just in case you need my help. Help, money, whatever you need. I'm just a phone call away."


Silas climbs into the Suburban and takes off down the long drive. Duke watches as he stops at where the gates used to be. Silas steers the truck to the right and heads down Galileo Drive when Duke receives a text.


SILAS: "Usual place. Tonight. Bitch."


Duke laughs out loud and responds to the text.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Wouldn't miss it. See you then."


Sebastian Duke heads back inside as this scene fades out.




Saturday, March 30, 2013 - 10:28 PM EST


Sebastian Duke reaches the lake and climbs out of the old truck. He strolls to the front and takes a seat on the hood. The cooler behind him, he reaches in and takes out a Budweiser and pops the top and takes a long gulp.

He begins to wonder if Silas will show up as he cracks open a third cold one. Off to the left, in the distance and out of sight he hears a snap. A snap like a twig. Dukes senses reach high alert as he looks around. He sees nothing and his heart starts racing.

His thoughts start going through the possibilities. Did Jonathan intercept Silas? Did Jonathan know he'd be out here tonight?

Off to the right he hears a click and a flash of light out of the corner of his eye.

That's when he sees him.





































[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQuPJH9Q3UrbHiwbtwVo3v...Ss_taGhJrP]


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Griffin fuckin' MacAlister! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

NICK DONNELLY: "Nick Donnelly, remember? What's wrong Duke? Scare ya?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Not that. I just thought Jonathan might have intercepted you or something."

NICK DONNELLY: "Ha! Not likely. I'd snap that boy like a twig."


Nick hops op on the hood of the truck. Duke takes a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label out of the cooler and hands it to Nick.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "So what's up? Why'd you call me out here tonight?"

NICK DONNELLY: "I just wanted to..."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "You wanted to what?"

NICK DONNELLY: "You know. I just wanted to thank you for..."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Ahh! Man, don't mention it."

NICK DONNELLY: "No, seriously, the other night. When you saved my ass..."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I mean it! Don't mention it! You think I want anyone to know I saved your sorry ass?"

NICK DONNELLY: "Anyhow, I just wanted to thank you for that."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "It's too bad, really."

NICK DONNELLY: "What is?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "The way we started off on the wrong foot."

NICK DONNELLY: "What do you mean?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Well, we could have been able to help each other out if we weren't out to get each other."

NICK DONNELLY: "True."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "The thing is, we make much better friends than we ever did enemies."

NICK DONNELLY: "Hell, man. I'll drink to that!"


They clang their bottles together and each take a large gulp.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: "When you take care of whatever it is you need to take care of, you should think about coming back here."

NICK DONNELLY: "Why the fuck would I wanna do that?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Start a Hitman for Hire business."

NICK DONNELLY: "A what? Are you drunk?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Ha! Seriously. Duke and Donnelly: Hitmen for Hire. The Kennedy money will run out eventually. The XWF money is good but not enough to sustain the Brotherhood."

NICK DONNELLY: "Not a chance! Besides, it would be Donnelly and Duke.

"Wait. What do you mean Kennedy money?"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I never told you about that did I?"

NICK DONNELLY: "Nope."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Ha! When Lucas was alive, he set up a fake charity. Based here in New England with a fictitious address. I told him to load up the stationary with sad puppies and cancer kids. The Kennedy's donated like fifty million."

NICK DONNELLY: "Whhhat? You're lyin'!"

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "I'm serious! Except thanks to that fuckhead, Griffin MacAlister, I spent like thirty million on security."

NICK DONNELLY: "Oh yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

SEBASTIAN DUKE: "Bitch! Pass me that blunt!"


Nick passes the blunt to Duke and they chat away in the darkness as the scene fades out and the story of Silas comes to its conclusion.]]> <![CDATA[You Could Only Guess My Intentions...]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1940 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 15:11:30 -0700 Shocker]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1940 I remember when I was much younger. Back when cartoons were actually good, and didn't force you to accommodate for others. One fond memory I have was of my times when I was in preschool. My grandmother would do the same routine each day after school. I would come home to a bologna sandwich, a glass of milk, some chips and a VHS tape to watch. Sometimes it would be those old Max Fleischer Superman cartoons. Other times it would be either the Wizard of Oz, Our Gang, or Shirley Temple. Yet more often then not, it would be one of the Star Wars films. I'm more prone to Empire, but I watched Jedi more often in my younger days.

It was early on Sunday, and I was still downstairs at the hotel restaurant, The Association Restaurant at the Hilton London Wembley. I decided to grab some breakfast after that reporter ended up wanting to hear more about my intentions about the PPV. We were originally planning on a meal, but the Icons Bar just screamed to me violently. I was gonna need a beer during this...

So do we really need to continue this interview?

Your the one who said it was in my best interest to....

Never mind, you said you had a few more questions for me anyways.

Yes, I recently got a tip about one of your opponents for the Xtreme title, Luca Arzegotti. Apparently, he feels your not worthy of a title shot. More or less, your completely disregarding the history of the XWF.

Yes, he's absolutely right in those regards. I don't know anything about the history of his "accomplishments" within the XWF. Frankly, I don't give two shits about it to begin with. You see, we live in a world where current events matter a great deal. I mean, how often to you check your Facebook, or tweet your friends, or text them with your iPhone. I don't care about his past, cause its his future he should worry about.

I understand your point, but you can't completely negate the past successes of the XWF and your opponents.

I never said I don't recognize the past of XWF. I merely am saying that everything that Luca has done is just that, in the past. Everything that has happened is past knowledge, and that's it. If he wants me to look up all his little wins and losses, nobody is gonna care how many you win or lose. I mean has he ever won a title? No, of course not. So nobody's gonna give a shit.

So only titles matter in your profession.

To the rest of the world, yes that's all that actually matters. Do you remember the last match he had? No, because he lost. Nobody remembers the losers, only the winners. Nobody remembers the #1 contenders, only the champions. Nobody remembers the last person eliminated in the famous Royal Rumble, only the winner.

I get your point.

No you don't get it. He thinks his track record speaks for itself. It doesn't speak for anything. Unless he walks out of Gauntlet City with either the 24/7 Xtreme Championship or the title of King of XWF, his time doesn't matter. In fact, I see neither one remotely happening.

Why is that?

I live in a state of mind where the future is as important as the past. I know where he came from. I know the battles he has had, I know the drama he has dealt with. Good for him, because at Gauntlet City, the past can't help him. If he's more worried about pointing out my flaws, then your in for a surprise. It's not just me you have to contend with, there's two other guys. Angelus and John Black both know what I'm here to do, as are you. Regardless of the outcome, I WILL cause you pain and suffering. I'm not here to play games and daydream about my dead bitch girlfriend, my family's safety, or some dumb slut named Candybox. I'm here to do what I do best, and that's create chaos and dispense pain on those who think I'm just some piece of shit. I am a piece of shit, but this piece of shit is gonna FUCK HIM UP!

I slam the table and look Mr. O'Brien in the eyes with a solid stare of intent. I kinda got a little heated, but nothing too serious. That's OK, because he got my point. Hopefully, that little Edward wanna-be did too. Of course I knew who it was. Its nice to watch crap once in a while, instead of living in a bad episode of As The World Turns like Luca does every day...and that crappy show got cancelled too, just like Luca's chances of winning at Gauntlet City... ]]> I remember when I was much younger. Back when cartoons were actually good, and didn't force you to accommodate for others. One fond memory I have was of my times when I was in preschool. My grandmother would do the same routine each day after school. I would come home to a bologna sandwich, a glass of milk, some chips and a VHS tape to watch. Sometimes it would be those old Max Fleischer Superman cartoons. Other times it would be either the Wizard of Oz, Our Gang, or Shirley Temple. Yet more often then not, it would be one of the Star Wars films. I'm more prone to Empire, but I watched Jedi more often in my younger days.

It was early on Sunday, and I was still downstairs at the hotel restaurant, The Association Restaurant at the Hilton London Wembley. I decided to grab some breakfast after that reporter ended up wanting to hear more about my intentions about the PPV. We were originally planning on a meal, but the Icons Bar just screamed to me violently. I was gonna need a beer during this...

So do we really need to continue this interview?

Your the one who said it was in my best interest to....

Never mind, you said you had a few more questions for me anyways.

Yes, I recently got a tip about one of your opponents for the Xtreme title, Luca Arzegotti. Apparently, he feels your not worthy of a title shot. More or less, your completely disregarding the history of the XWF.

Yes, he's absolutely right in those regards. I don't know anything about the history of his "accomplishments" within the XWF. Frankly, I don't give two shits about it to begin with. You see, we live in a world where current events matter a great deal. I mean, how often to you check your Facebook, or tweet your friends, or text them with your iPhone. I don't care about his past, cause its his future he should worry about.

I understand your point, but you can't completely negate the past successes of the XWF and your opponents.

I never said I don't recognize the past of XWF. I merely am saying that everything that Luca has done is just that, in the past. Everything that has happened is past knowledge, and that's it. If he wants me to look up all his little wins and losses, nobody is gonna care how many you win or lose. I mean has he ever won a title? No, of course not. So nobody's gonna give a shit.

So only titles matter in your profession.

To the rest of the world, yes that's all that actually matters. Do you remember the last match he had? No, because he lost. Nobody remembers the losers, only the winners. Nobody remembers the #1 contenders, only the champions. Nobody remembers the last person eliminated in the famous Royal Rumble, only the winner.

I get your point.

No you don't get it. He thinks his track record speaks for itself. It doesn't speak for anything. Unless he walks out of Gauntlet City with either the 24/7 Xtreme Championship or the title of King of XWF, his time doesn't matter. In fact, I see neither one remotely happening.

Why is that?

I live in a state of mind where the future is as important as the past. I know where he came from. I know the battles he has had, I know the drama he has dealt with. Good for him, because at Gauntlet City, the past can't help him. If he's more worried about pointing out my flaws, then your in for a surprise. It's not just me you have to contend with, there's two other guys. Angelus and John Black both know what I'm here to do, as are you. Regardless of the outcome, I WILL cause you pain and suffering. I'm not here to play games and daydream about my dead bitch girlfriend, my family's safety, or some dumb slut named Candybox. I'm here to do what I do best, and that's create chaos and dispense pain on those who think I'm just some piece of shit. I am a piece of shit, but this piece of shit is gonna FUCK HIM UP!

I slam the table and look Mr. O'Brien in the eyes with a solid stare of intent. I kinda got a little heated, but nothing too serious. That's OK, because he got my point. Hopefully, that little Edward wanna-be did too. Of course I knew who it was. Its nice to watch crap once in a while, instead of living in a bad episode of As The World Turns like Luca does every day...and that crappy show got cancelled too, just like Luca's chances of winning at Gauntlet City... ]]> <![CDATA[March of the Dark Horde]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1938 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 13:39:27 -0700 Unknown Soldier]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1938
"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!"

-- Isaiah 14:12

The following scene takes place in the book of Revelations in the Kingdom of Babylon around the year 95 AD:

The troops marched through the trenches and plains of a desert somewhere in the Middle East. The slaves of the dark horde marched onwards to a battle that would set the precedence for the entire world. The fires from the sun soaked up from the plains through the cracks in the desert and boiled on the surface of the earth. The same as if you witnessed a blacktopped driveway after the construction crew just poured it on a humid and hot day. Their heads bowed as they continue to follow the footsteps of the demon in front of them. Mountains in the far away distance have flickers of fire and lightning in the sky just above them. Darkness, fire, and lightning are about the only thing that surrounds this marching horde. The road left behind them is invisible, covered in a trail of darkness that leaks behind the pack like a traveling snail. Bringing up the rear is a large and ferocious beast with the head of a cat, frog, and man. The legs and body of a spider gave him the ability to stiffen the knees of his eight legs and elevate him above the crowd from the rear to make sure none strayed from the path.


The demon Bael; known to the underworld as the Mighty King and closest guardian to the prince of darkness.

Onward the mighty demon king urged his army to march with a devastatingly long and thick whip that stretched over a mile long. When he cracked it in mid air it created a sonic boom that was louder than the thunder in the sky. Most were without opposition to the march because they are emphatically subservient to the master of the dark horde. One demon did swear vengeance as he possessed the ability to see the future and what defeat lie ahead for the morning star's vicious army. He whispered to the demon marching to his left..

VASSAGO: "When will we reach the portal to enter the gates."

The demon next to him was his counterpart Agares, who shared his same thoughts of deception as they were both spliced from the same demonic breed that created them both. He dare not oppose their master; however, for unlike Vassago he knew the punishment for enacting, or even believing that one could oppose the King of Babylon would result in dire consequences.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSrXRnF4bBtigttMK3xbJI...6QYfz11DET]

Agares rode on the back of a ferocious crocodile thirty meters long, which he was able to control by his saddle and propel him forward by nudging him in the belly with his stirrup heels.

AGARES: "Now is not the time to be asking questions. I know that you sense the master's prescience lurking in the storm clouds above."

VASSAGO: "This is foolish my friend, we are marching into a trap. The King of Babylon is..."

BAEL: "SILENCE! Who dare speak ill of the dark lord???

Bael leaps from the back of the pack and in one swift and thunderous bound drops himself in front of the two.

BAEL: "Vassago! The one who shares his good nature's with the likes of the filthy human army. I implore this as your final warning if you wish to avoid punishments of the whip."

Bael slaps the whip up in the air with a deafening wail that penetrates and vibrates through their brains like a migraine headache. The sound continues to emancipate through the hash winds like the sound of someone striking a triangle musical instrument. The pack stops to watch as the dark lords first ranking lieutenant challenged Vassago's credibility. The two prepare for what appears to be a battle of epic proportions until out of the sky appears..

The dragon with seven heads and ten horns from a light that opened the sky like a stage curtain....


The size of the creature was twice that of the army that stood before him. One that stretched on for miles and miles beyond comprehension. As he stared and breathed over his army they all, in unison, bowed before there King and master. They bowed before the mighty King because they knew the time had come.

The day of reckoning was bestowed upon us on this day as the ultimate battle between good and evil was laying on the front door of the world. The demon army knew that the time had come. The soldier's stare up at their master.

All but one.

Vassago.

The prince of hell stood like a statue glaring back in the demon's eyes showing no sign of loyalty or respect. The rest of the pack noticed none of this activity. Their sense of adornment was so strong that many tucked their head between their legs and closed their eyes. This showed the ultimate sign of worship. Agares was the only one who could see that Vassago was still not kneeling or bowing his head.

AGARES: "Get down, Vassago. Please, don't do this here. Not now!"

Agares was now tugging at his waistline and insisting. Vassago complied eventually but with resistance. The stare down between him and his master left a burning on the inside of his demonic soul that fueled his hate and anger. The feelings that mortals possess began to overcome him and so he had no other choice to submit before the King. The dragon of the morning star implored his will over his subject by transmitting human feelings of fear and regret to overcome the one who opposed him.

Now the time had come as the dragon inhaled the air surrounding the area. The creature sucked the oxygen and life out of the sky like a giant vacuum. He used his breath to suck the very life out of the sky. The crowd of demons felt the air whipping at their backs and into the dragon's nostrils.

The dragon leaned back and shot an enormous stream of fire up in the air in a plume that mimicked the sight of a volcano erupting or nuclear bomb being dropped. The sky parted as the beasts on the ground began to chant and cheer at what appeared to be their great leader penetrating the defenses barriers of their opposition in the sky. The portal opened in the sky that engulfed the whole of the army...

minus one...

Agares lifted his head to notice that his former companion was no longer at his side. Vanished like some kind of magic trick into another dimension. Vassago knew exactly what he was doing. Agares had no choice but to move on and not dare mention the subject as he marched onward following the horde into battle.

What the demon lord didn't know, or care to consider during their stare down, was that when he passed on the human traits to one of his demonic slave creations he was doing them a favor.

The demon Vassago knew how to take advantage of the human characteristics by escaping his lords realm of existence.

Now, he was going to be able to float between the two worlds in a place known as...

The Void...

The light in the sky as the fires burned from the dragon's mouth illuminated the world like a bright star on the morning of the apocalypse.

----

"And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light."

-- Corinthians 11:14

]]>
"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!"

-- Isaiah 14:12

The following scene takes place in the book of Revelations in the Kingdom of Babylon around the year 95 AD:

The troops marched through the trenches and plains of a desert somewhere in the Middle East. The slaves of the dark horde marched onwards to a battle that would set the precedence for the entire world. The fires from the sun soaked up from the plains through the cracks in the desert and boiled on the surface of the earth. The same as if you witnessed a blacktopped driveway after the construction crew just poured it on a humid and hot day. Their heads bowed as they continue to follow the footsteps of the demon in front of them. Mountains in the far away distance have flickers of fire and lightning in the sky just above them. Darkness, fire, and lightning are about the only thing that surrounds this marching horde. The road left behind them is invisible, covered in a trail of darkness that leaks behind the pack like a traveling snail. Bringing up the rear is a large and ferocious beast with the head of a cat, frog, and man. The legs and body of a spider gave him the ability to stiffen the knees of his eight legs and elevate him above the crowd from the rear to make sure none strayed from the path.


The demon Bael; known to the underworld as the Mighty King and closest guardian to the prince of darkness.

Onward the mighty demon king urged his army to march with a devastatingly long and thick whip that stretched over a mile long. When he cracked it in mid air it created a sonic boom that was louder than the thunder in the sky. Most were without opposition to the march because they are emphatically subservient to the master of the dark horde. One demon did swear vengeance as he possessed the ability to see the future and what defeat lie ahead for the morning star's vicious army. He whispered to the demon marching to his left..

VASSAGO: "When will we reach the portal to enter the gates."

The demon next to him was his counterpart Agares, who shared his same thoughts of deception as they were both spliced from the same demonic breed that created them both. He dare not oppose their master; however, for unlike Vassago he knew the punishment for enacting, or even believing that one could oppose the King of Babylon would result in dire consequences.

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSrXRnF4bBtigttMK3xbJI...6QYfz11DET]

Agares rode on the back of a ferocious crocodile thirty meters long, which he was able to control by his saddle and propel him forward by nudging him in the belly with his stirrup heels.

AGARES: "Now is not the time to be asking questions. I know that you sense the master's prescience lurking in the storm clouds above."

VASSAGO: "This is foolish my friend, we are marching into a trap. The King of Babylon is..."

BAEL: "SILENCE! Who dare speak ill of the dark lord???

Bael leaps from the back of the pack and in one swift and thunderous bound drops himself in front of the two.

BAEL: "Vassago! The one who shares his good nature's with the likes of the filthy human army. I implore this as your final warning if you wish to avoid punishments of the whip."

Bael slaps the whip up in the air with a deafening wail that penetrates and vibrates through their brains like a migraine headache. The sound continues to emancipate through the hash winds like the sound of someone striking a triangle musical instrument. The pack stops to watch as the dark lords first ranking lieutenant challenged Vassago's credibility. The two prepare for what appears to be a battle of epic proportions until out of the sky appears..

The dragon with seven heads and ten horns from a light that opened the sky like a stage curtain....


The size of the creature was twice that of the army that stood before him. One that stretched on for miles and miles beyond comprehension. As he stared and breathed over his army they all, in unison, bowed before there King and master. They bowed before the mighty King because they knew the time had come.

The day of reckoning was bestowed upon us on this day as the ultimate battle between good and evil was laying on the front door of the world. The demon army knew that the time had come. The soldier's stare up at their master.

All but one.

Vassago.

The prince of hell stood like a statue glaring back in the demon's eyes showing no sign of loyalty or respect. The rest of the pack noticed none of this activity. Their sense of adornment was so strong that many tucked their head between their legs and closed their eyes. This showed the ultimate sign of worship. Agares was the only one who could see that Vassago was still not kneeling or bowing his head.

AGARES: "Get down, Vassago. Please, don't do this here. Not now!"

Agares was now tugging at his waistline and insisting. Vassago complied eventually but with resistance. The stare down between him and his master left a burning on the inside of his demonic soul that fueled his hate and anger. The feelings that mortals possess began to overcome him and so he had no other choice to submit before the King. The dragon of the morning star implored his will over his subject by transmitting human feelings of fear and regret to overcome the one who opposed him.

Now the time had come as the dragon inhaled the air surrounding the area. The creature sucked the oxygen and life out of the sky like a giant vacuum. He used his breath to suck the very life out of the sky. The crowd of demons felt the air whipping at their backs and into the dragon's nostrils.

The dragon leaned back and shot an enormous stream of fire up in the air in a plume that mimicked the sight of a volcano erupting or nuclear bomb being dropped. The sky parted as the beasts on the ground began to chant and cheer at what appeared to be their great leader penetrating the defenses barriers of their opposition in the sky. The portal opened in the sky that engulfed the whole of the army...

minus one...

Agares lifted his head to notice that his former companion was no longer at his side. Vanished like some kind of magic trick into another dimension. Vassago knew exactly what he was doing. Agares had no choice but to move on and not dare mention the subject as he marched onward following the horde into battle.

What the demon lord didn't know, or care to consider during their stare down, was that when he passed on the human traits to one of his demonic slave creations he was doing them a favor.

The demon Vassago knew how to take advantage of the human characteristics by escaping his lords realm of existence.

Now, he was going to be able to float between the two worlds in a place known as...

The Void...

The light in the sky as the fires burned from the dragon's mouth illuminated the world like a bright star on the morning of the apocalypse.

----

"And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light."

-- Corinthians 11:14

]]> <![CDATA[Date With Destiny]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1937 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 13:25:04 -0700 RonnieWilkins]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1937 The cameras open up in the living room of the Wilkins condo in Virginia Beach. The windows are all open and the soothing sound of waves crashing fills the air. Ron is on the couch, dressed in plain workout clothes and a pair of sneakers. He's watching the television and the camera turns to see what's on. We catch the dying scenes of John Samuels latest interview and Ron points the remote at the TV to turn it off.

"That's what you've got John? That was your Hail Mary?"

Ron simply shakes his head.

"I tell you what John, your best bet is to just take that disc and put it in a bucket of Febreze, because that reeked of desperation. I'll be honest, I'm struggling to understand you John. On one hand you are supposedly an adult male or normal brain function. But then you release something like your latest interview and it makes you look as mature as a slab of veal."

Ron gets up and begins pacing across his living room, gesticulating with his hands.

"I wouldn't expect a manicured and pedicured primadonna like yourself to find a shootout with cartel members on live television that exciting, I'm guessing you are a little more Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and less Diehard. Not that there's anything wrong with that." He adds with a cocked eyebrow.

"If stuff like that isn't your cup of tea that's just fine. After all not all of us can have such illustrious accomplishments like beating CYREN to hang our hats on." He snickers "You should've stuck to temper tantrum John, at least you were entertaining then. Now you are nothing but a Jack Russell Terrier, nipping at mine and Kinwrathi's heels for attention. Just like when my son wants attention good or bad you'll get it. I only hope you don't cry and stamp your feet too loudly after I spank you and toss you over the top rope."

Ron walks towards the sliding glass door and motions for the camera to follow him. He walks outside and onto the beach, breathing in the fresh ocean air.

"So much better than that desert hellhole. You let people like Ursula and her kind run a town and that's what it turns into. All they've ever known is filth and squalor so they are more than happy to continue that trend."

Another deep breath of the ocean air.

"Look Ursula we get it, you worked hard to get where you're at. That scene where you were "boxing" an old piñata or whatever that was, was very inspiring. But you missed the bus a long time ago. You should've shacked up with a nice, rich, American. "Forgotten" your pill for a few days and popped out a little anchor baby. Youd have it made! Instead you've got to deal with me in a few days. "

He smirks.

"It'll be just like old times for me, and once I'm done with you this "modeling" career you've got going on will be a thing of the past. After Sunday night the only types of photo shoots anyone will want you for will be all those two girls, one cup films you South American girls are so well suited for."

He gives an involuntary shudder, remembering the day a trusted "friend" sent him that link and told him it was "the coolest thing he'd ever see".

"And of course, Kinwrathi. Now I won't kid myself, I don't see us being best friends in your fairy tale land or in reality but I have to ask you something personal. Is your dick as sore as mine is?"

He pauses for a moment to let the question sink in.

"Allow me to explain. It doesn't matter if it is the lowest of the low in this match (hint, hint World-1 international), an aging (it's starting to show doll) Diva living in the past, or the Champ himself. Every single participant in this match is tugging on myself or Kinwrathi, begging to be acknowledged."

"Believe me, you will all get your time in the sun. For most of you getting eliminated by someone worthy of main eventing a card will be the highlight of your careers, and I take that responsibility very seriously. Now I'm not sure of the standard operating procedure for something like this but I suggest you stay once you've been dumped into defeat and irrelevancy. Hang out and watch some true professionals go at it. I implore you to do so actually, I have no doubts it will prove very beneficial to you."

He turns and smiles at the camera.

"Besides, Kinwrathi and Samuels might be in an autograph giving mood once they are eliminated by yours truly."

Ron's phone begins to ring. He pulls it from his pocket and sees its a call from his boss, Shane . He thumbs the answer button and puts the phone on speaker, as he listens he walks back inside to eliminate the background noise from the waves.

"Ron?"

"Yes sir, right here. You're on camera also."

"Aha, very well. I'll keep it short then. Your Gauntlet number has been picked. You will enter 29th out of 32 participants. Good luck."

The call ends and we are left with Ron's jaw hanging down to his chest. has already hung up on his end and Ron just lets his phone drop to the couch. Ron follows suit shortly. He still has a stunned expression on his face. He begins talking, but not to anyone in particular…just thoughts flowing verbally in his empty house.

“Holy shit…this is it. The opportunity is right there, I just have to take it now. Everything is falling into line for the FTW Title and now a number like this for the Gauntlet? Unbelievable.”

He bolts from his chair and flips open his wife’s laptop. Quickly logging onto the news section on the XWF site, trying to gauge what threats will be left at that point. He sees his name there in the 29th position and he actually falls off the chair and onto a knee when he sees World-1 International’s (name? title? LLC?) just below his.
“Holy shit, they might as well have just slotted me in at 31. World-1 might not even be able to make it to the Gauntlet now that I know he’s my immediate competition. Sorry kiddo, it’s the luck of the draw. So three falls, that’s it? Whoever I go in there against…that’s way up in the air. Then World-1…”He stops to laugh “Then two more guys? When the best in the XWF will have already beaten the hell out of each other?” He lets out a long “sheeeeiiittttttttt…..”

“I’ve never been one to look for the easy way out, but what else am I supposed to do here?”

He sits on the couch, smiling and shaking his head, still incredulous at his good fortune.

“Well hell, I could waste my time sitting here. Dissecting each of my potential opponents but what does that really matter? Even if someone like Duke, Flynn, or Gilmour makes it all the way to me they’ll be so tired that I might as well be in there with Crimson Dong again.”

Ron’s getting excited now, he hops to his feet and begins to pace his living room.
“King of the XWF and FTW Title all in one night? That’s something that seemed like a major long shot just an hour ago.” He’s pumping his arms now, getting excited already.

“Now it’s a reality. Hell…it’s already done!”

He re-laces his shoes and opens the door, bolting down the street as he tries to burn off some of this nervous energy. In his excitement he’s completely forgotten the camera crew and after a moment of looking at an empty house, the screen abruptly switches to black.

The cameras open up in an upscale hotel room in London, England. Ron Wilkins is dressed in a warm-up jacket and pants. The sun is just beginning to descend and the time is drawing near for Gauntlet City. Ron is going through his pre-match routines, some light push-ups, jumping jacks, body weight squats, and burpees to get his blood flowing and then some stretching mixed in with some yoga poses.

He's wearing a pair of headphones, his smart phone is clipped to his arm.

"This is it baby, it's my time now. Time to make my mark. FTW Title, King of the XWF. I can just hear people talking about it tomorrow...the most incredible night an XWF Superstar has ever had. A career defining night. Nah, fuck that...a legacy defining night." He takes a long swig from his water bottle, making sure he's hydrated for what should be a very busy night.

"The participants in the FTW Battle Royal have said their respective pieces, but I'm setting my sights even higher now. At first the Gauntlet was something I planned on doing my best in, but now? Coming in as one of the last entrants? It all seems like destiny now. It's just up to me to seize it."

Still with his headphones in, Ron turns to look at the camera.

"Do you hear me Duke? Flynn? Mystery? James? All of you bastards, I've been in there with you before. I know what you bring to the table and I know I'm ready for it. Its time to usher in a whole new era in XWF History and wave goodbye to you relics." He smiles at the camera "Get ready fellas, it's gonna be one helluva night."

The scene fades as Ron yanks the door open and jogs down the hotel hallway, preparing for his date with Lady Destiny.]]> The cameras open up in the living room of the Wilkins condo in Virginia Beach. The windows are all open and the soothing sound of waves crashing fills the air. Ron is on the couch, dressed in plain workout clothes and a pair of sneakers. He's watching the television and the camera turns to see what's on. We catch the dying scenes of John Samuels latest interview and Ron points the remote at the TV to turn it off.

"That's what you've got John? That was your Hail Mary?"

Ron simply shakes his head.

"I tell you what John, your best bet is to just take that disc and put it in a bucket of Febreze, because that reeked of desperation. I'll be honest, I'm struggling to understand you John. On one hand you are supposedly an adult male or normal brain function. But then you release something like your latest interview and it makes you look as mature as a slab of veal."

Ron gets up and begins pacing across his living room, gesticulating with his hands.

"I wouldn't expect a manicured and pedicured primadonna like yourself to find a shootout with cartel members on live television that exciting, I'm guessing you are a little more Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and less Diehard. Not that there's anything wrong with that." He adds with a cocked eyebrow.

"If stuff like that isn't your cup of tea that's just fine. After all not all of us can have such illustrious accomplishments like beating CYREN to hang our hats on." He snickers "You should've stuck to temper tantrum John, at least you were entertaining then. Now you are nothing but a Jack Russell Terrier, nipping at mine and Kinwrathi's heels for attention. Just like when my son wants attention good or bad you'll get it. I only hope you don't cry and stamp your feet too loudly after I spank you and toss you over the top rope."

Ron walks towards the sliding glass door and motions for the camera to follow him. He walks outside and onto the beach, breathing in the fresh ocean air.

"So much better than that desert hellhole. You let people like Ursula and her kind run a town and that's what it turns into. All they've ever known is filth and squalor so they are more than happy to continue that trend."

Another deep breath of the ocean air.

"Look Ursula we get it, you worked hard to get where you're at. That scene where you were "boxing" an old piñata or whatever that was, was very inspiring. But you missed the bus a long time ago. You should've shacked up with a nice, rich, American. "Forgotten" your pill for a few days and popped out a little anchor baby. Youd have it made! Instead you've got to deal with me in a few days. "

He smirks.

"It'll be just like old times for me, and once I'm done with you this "modeling" career you've got going on will be a thing of the past. After Sunday night the only types of photo shoots anyone will want you for will be all those two girls, one cup films you South American girls are so well suited for."

He gives an involuntary shudder, remembering the day a trusted "friend" sent him that link and told him it was "the coolest thing he'd ever see".

"And of course, Kinwrathi. Now I won't kid myself, I don't see us being best friends in your fairy tale land or in reality but I have to ask you something personal. Is your dick as sore as mine is?"

He pauses for a moment to let the question sink in.

"Allow me to explain. It doesn't matter if it is the lowest of the low in this match (hint, hint World-1 international), an aging (it's starting to show doll) Diva living in the past, or the Champ himself. Every single participant in this match is tugging on myself or Kinwrathi, begging to be acknowledged."

"Believe me, you will all get your time in the sun. For most of you getting eliminated by someone worthy of main eventing a card will be the highlight of your careers, and I take that responsibility very seriously. Now I'm not sure of the standard operating procedure for something like this but I suggest you stay once you've been dumped into defeat and irrelevancy. Hang out and watch some true professionals go at it. I implore you to do so actually, I have no doubts it will prove very beneficial to you."

He turns and smiles at the camera.

"Besides, Kinwrathi and Samuels might be in an autograph giving mood once they are eliminated by yours truly."

Ron's phone begins to ring. He pulls it from his pocket and sees its a call from his boss, Shane . He thumbs the answer button and puts the phone on speaker, as he listens he walks back inside to eliminate the background noise from the waves.

"Ron?"

"Yes sir, right here. You're on camera also."

"Aha, very well. I'll keep it short then. Your Gauntlet number has been picked. You will enter 29th out of 32 participants. Good luck."

The call ends and we are left with Ron's jaw hanging down to his chest. has already hung up on his end and Ron just lets his phone drop to the couch. Ron follows suit shortly. He still has a stunned expression on his face. He begins talking, but not to anyone in particular…just thoughts flowing verbally in his empty house.

“Holy shit…this is it. The opportunity is right there, I just have to take it now. Everything is falling into line for the FTW Title and now a number like this for the Gauntlet? Unbelievable.”

He bolts from his chair and flips open his wife’s laptop. Quickly logging onto the news section on the XWF site, trying to gauge what threats will be left at that point. He sees his name there in the 29th position and he actually falls off the chair and onto a knee when he sees World-1 International’s (name? title? LLC?) just below his.
“Holy shit, they might as well have just slotted me in at 31. World-1 might not even be able to make it to the Gauntlet now that I know he’s my immediate competition. Sorry kiddo, it’s the luck of the draw. So three falls, that’s it? Whoever I go in there against…that’s way up in the air. Then World-1…”He stops to laugh “Then two more guys? When the best in the XWF will have already beaten the hell out of each other?” He lets out a long “sheeeeiiittttttttt…..”

“I’ve never been one to look for the easy way out, but what else am I supposed to do here?”

He sits on the couch, smiling and shaking his head, still incredulous at his good fortune.

“Well hell, I could waste my time sitting here. Dissecting each of my potential opponents but what does that really matter? Even if someone like Duke, Flynn, or Gilmour makes it all the way to me they’ll be so tired that I might as well be in there with Crimson Dong again.”

Ron’s getting excited now, he hops to his feet and begins to pace his living room.
“King of the XWF and FTW Title all in one night? That’s something that seemed like a major long shot just an hour ago.” He’s pumping his arms now, getting excited already.

“Now it’s a reality. Hell…it’s already done!”

He re-laces his shoes and opens the door, bolting down the street as he tries to burn off some of this nervous energy. In his excitement he’s completely forgotten the camera crew and after a moment of looking at an empty house, the screen abruptly switches to black.

The cameras open up in an upscale hotel room in London, England. Ron Wilkins is dressed in a warm-up jacket and pants. The sun is just beginning to descend and the time is drawing near for Gauntlet City. Ron is going through his pre-match routines, some light push-ups, jumping jacks, body weight squats, and burpees to get his blood flowing and then some stretching mixed in with some yoga poses.

He's wearing a pair of headphones, his smart phone is clipped to his arm.

"This is it baby, it's my time now. Time to make my mark. FTW Title, King of the XWF. I can just hear people talking about it tomorrow...the most incredible night an XWF Superstar has ever had. A career defining night. Nah, fuck that...a legacy defining night." He takes a long swig from his water bottle, making sure he's hydrated for what should be a very busy night.

"The participants in the FTW Battle Royal have said their respective pieces, but I'm setting my sights even higher now. At first the Gauntlet was something I planned on doing my best in, but now? Coming in as one of the last entrants? It all seems like destiny now. It's just up to me to seize it."

Still with his headphones in, Ron turns to look at the camera.

"Do you hear me Duke? Flynn? Mystery? James? All of you bastards, I've been in there with you before. I know what you bring to the table and I know I'm ready for it. Its time to usher in a whole new era in XWF History and wave goodbye to you relics." He smiles at the camera "Get ready fellas, it's gonna be one helluva night."

The scene fades as Ron yanks the door open and jogs down the hotel hallway, preparing for his date with Lady Destiny.]]> <![CDATA[Giggle Laugh Smile.... BANG! (Stable)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1936 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 12:58:15 -0700 Ann Thraxx]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1936

ARE YOU READY?
For another trip
Into the MIND
Of the crazy bitch we call......
ANN-THRAXX


[Image: l.jpg]

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


click above to hear RP song

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

Giggle.
Giggle.

Laugh.
Laugh.

Smile.
Smile.

Bang.
Bang.

Scream.
Scream.

Run.
RUN!

Help.
PLEASE!

Scream.
It's over
-
-
-
-
Ann Thraxx steps into a dark room. The footsteps on the concrete floor are amplified as she walks, as the sound waves resound through the room..... But fuck science, nobody gives a shit about that part.... Ann takes a seat on a wooden stool, a single hanging lightbulb swaying above, as her mind wanders...
...
In a video recorded with a grainy effect to it, making it clear that this is a past occurence or memory, a teen girl is walking through the halls at her high school, headed for the door to leave.

[Image: Liana+Liberato+Trust+Portraits+2010+Toro...TsJhpl.jpg]

Friday..... Can't wait to go home! I can't stand life anymore!

She realises she said that out loud, but luckily nobody seemed to hear it.. Another girl, calls out to her from down the hall.

Angela! Wait up! Angela!

The camera shows the girl sprinting down the hall to catch up to her friend.

[Image: bd80fecc0dd462c5b2b02e98fe539252.jpg]

Angela turns around to face the girl, and begins to smile.

Hey, Bella! What's up?

Angela, what's wrong? We've all noticed it. Everyone. Friends, teachers, the other students. I'm worried about it. You're depressed, aren't you? It's okay. You don't have to be ashamed about that. We all go through it. Anything you say is completely between you and I.

Angela's whole posture sinks, and her smile quickly slips down into a frown. She really doesn't look happy.

I'm sorry. It's just that things are really difficult for me right now. Mum and Dad don't care about me. They say the do, but they don't it's obvious. My sister is a complete bitch! I hate her. And I know I'm going to fail in school. I just can't focus.... I'm not smart enough.

Don't be down on yourself, Angie. I think you're smart. Maybe not book smart, but you're one of the smartest girls I know. I'm not lying, I swear.

A smile begins to spread across Angela's face.

Besides. I'm your friend. You've got plenty of friends. Friends who really care about you. But probably me more than anyone. You're not alone here, Angela.

A montage of clips play to some music.


click above to hear the song

The two on swingsets when they were six, and running around trying to tag one another at that same age, then at the age of eight, exploring forestry, then at the ages of ten, playing hopscotch. At twelve playing down by the beach. Then the camera fades back to them as teenagers, hugging in the hallways of the school.

It's all just so difficult, Bella!.... I don't know what to do anymore.

Angela wipes away her own tears, and the two walk out of the school, talking, as their voices fade away into the afternoon noise of high school students.....
...
The scene comes back to the modern day events.

Yes, that was my friend, essentially talking me down from a proverbial ledge. I needed her support, I really did. What happened? Later that night, her psycho of an ex-boyfriend murdered her while we were talking on the phone...... My saddest memory, by a long shot. As well as my angriest and most confusing. I spiraled deeper and deeper into being someone I didn't want to be. A dark, sadistic bitch, only out there to hurt people. I only wanted to be a teacher when I grew up...... But, over time, I accepted who I had become. This is me now, and I don't want to change. I'll be me forever. This angry, viscious me. So, maybe Bella's death was worth it in the end? She made me who I am today.... Well, she liked a lot of old music, so I guess she'd want me to play this song.....

Ann gets up and walks out, leaving the song playing after she's gone.


click above to hear the song

-
-
-
-

Giggle.
Giggle.

Laugh.
Laugh.

Smile.
Smile.

Bang.
Bang.

Scream.
Scream.

Run.
RUN!

Help.
PLEASE!

Scream.
It's over


]]>

ARE YOU READY?
For another trip
Into the MIND
Of the crazy bitch we call......
ANN-THRAXX


[Image: l.jpg]

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


click above to hear RP song

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

Giggle.
Giggle.

Laugh.
Laugh.

Smile.
Smile.

Bang.
Bang.

Scream.
Scream.

Run.
RUN!

Help.
PLEASE!

Scream.
It's over
-
-
-
-
Ann Thraxx steps into a dark room. The footsteps on the concrete floor are amplified as she walks, as the sound waves resound through the room..... But fuck science, nobody gives a shit about that part.... Ann takes a seat on a wooden stool, a single hanging lightbulb swaying above, as her mind wanders...
...
In a video recorded with a grainy effect to it, making it clear that this is a past occurence or memory, a teen girl is walking through the halls at her high school, headed for the door to leave.

[Image: Liana+Liberato+Trust+Portraits+2010+Toro...TsJhpl.jpg]

Friday..... Can't wait to go home! I can't stand life anymore!

She realises she said that out loud, but luckily nobody seemed to hear it.. Another girl, calls out to her from down the hall.

Angela! Wait up! Angela!

The camera shows the girl sprinting down the hall to catch up to her friend.

[Image: bd80fecc0dd462c5b2b02e98fe539252.jpg]

Angela turns around to face the girl, and begins to smile.

Hey, Bella! What's up?

Angela, what's wrong? We've all noticed it. Everyone. Friends, teachers, the other students. I'm worried about it. You're depressed, aren't you? It's okay. You don't have to be ashamed about that. We all go through it. Anything you say is completely between you and I.

Angela's whole posture sinks, and her smile quickly slips down into a frown. She really doesn't look happy.

I'm sorry. It's just that things are really difficult for me right now. Mum and Dad don't care about me. They say the do, but they don't it's obvious. My sister is a complete bitch! I hate her. And I know I'm going to fail in school. I just can't focus.... I'm not smart enough.

Don't be down on yourself, Angie. I think you're smart. Maybe not book smart, but you're one of the smartest girls I know. I'm not lying, I swear.

A smile begins to spread across Angela's face.

Besides. I'm your friend. You've got plenty of friends. Friends who really care about you. But probably me more than anyone. You're not alone here, Angela.

A montage of clips play to some music.


click above to hear the song

The two on swingsets when they were six, and running around trying to tag one another at that same age, then at the age of eight, exploring forestry, then at the ages of ten, playing hopscotch. At twelve playing down by the beach. Then the camera fades back to them as teenagers, hugging in the hallways of the school.

It's all just so difficult, Bella!.... I don't know what to do anymore.

Angela wipes away her own tears, and the two walk out of the school, talking, as their voices fade away into the afternoon noise of high school students.....
...
The scene comes back to the modern day events.

Yes, that was my friend, essentially talking me down from a proverbial ledge. I needed her support, I really did. What happened? Later that night, her psycho of an ex-boyfriend murdered her while we were talking on the phone...... My saddest memory, by a long shot. As well as my angriest and most confusing. I spiraled deeper and deeper into being someone I didn't want to be. A dark, sadistic bitch, only out there to hurt people. I only wanted to be a teacher when I grew up...... But, over time, I accepted who I had become. This is me now, and I don't want to change. I'll be me forever. This angry, viscious me. So, maybe Bella's death was worth it in the end? She made me who I am today.... Well, she liked a lot of old music, so I guess she'd want me to play this song.....

Ann gets up and walks out, leaving the song playing after she's gone.


click above to hear the song

-
-
-
-

Giggle.
Giggle.

Laugh.
Laugh.

Smile.
Smile.

Bang.
Bang.

Scream.
Scream.

Run.
RUN!

Help.
PLEASE!

Scream.
It's over


]]> <![CDATA[Last Will and Testament (RP #5)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1935 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 12:31:53 -0700 MarkFlynn]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1935
There’s a crowd in the town square. Grumbling. Calling out. Slowly turning from the hanging platform set up at the front to the sheriff’s office to the West. Equipped with mugs of whiskey, a femme from the local saloon actually stepping outside to serve drinks, so as not to miss out on this unique business opportunity. Fathers stand with sons on their shoulders. The women left at their houses, given the opportunity to avoid seeing this grotesque disply of mortality, dust the same shelf for hours to stay near a window with a view…

The town knows the purpose of the gathering. To watch the hanging of a criminal and a murderer and a thief. A man who has evaded capture and execution for almost a year.

A man who deserves, above all others, to die.

The world hates this man. And they are prepared for him to die. More than that, they are eager to watch a man squirm at the hangman’s noose to wrench the last of his life likethe bartender twisting the liquid from his rag…

The crowd starts to turn… They slide towards the sheriff’s office… almost silently…

One man, the town doctor, carefully steps up and onto the porch. He revolves nervously to the crowd. A few nod…

The doctor slips through the swinging door…

Silence outside…

On the inside, deathly quiet. The sheriff and his deputy sitting around a deck of cards. The sheriff slides three on the table and gets returned three.

The doctor holds his hat in his hands as he waits for attention.

The deputy looks from his cards as does the sheriff.

“Something the matter, Doc?”

The doctor shakes his head. “No, sheriff. Just that the hanging was supposed to happen at noon. We’ve had Art Miller’s son running back and forth from the train station and the last time he came back, it was half past noon…”

The eyes of the law return to his cards.

“A man, no matter how wicked, has to have his last rites… We’re waiting for the father to get here to deliver ‘em.”

A low laugh can be heard from around the corner… Inside the cells…

“SHUT UP IN THERE! I TOLD YOU GODDAMNIT YOU MAKE A SOUND, YOU HANG WITH A BROKEN JAW!” The deputy calls out. The laughter stops, but a giggling continues.

The doctor remains silently in the room for a moment. Then, leaves.

A low grumbling starts outside… Hushed whispers. The deputy puts two back and the sheriff takes the deck to shuffle the cards…

“These cards are wet…” The sheriff turns to the deputy who wipes his forward… Swallowing down dry throat…

“You nervous about something, Glen?”

Glen’s eyes shoot up.

“N…Naw, sheriff. It’s just a hot day.”

The sheriff turns from his deputy to see the people gathered outside.

They’ve been waiting since 8 am.

Four and a half hours in blistering Texas heat…

The sheriff shakes his head as he stares down at his new hand.

“Lousy luck, today…”

Suddenly, there’s an uproar of sound. The people outside start to cheer, actual applause…

The sheriff scratches his head as the deputy sprints for the front door.

The deputy turns and smiles… a mixture of relief and anticipation…

“The Preacher’s here…”

The sheriff presses himself out of his chair and goes for the window instead.

The crowd has surrounded the newcomer.

Who stands a good foot above the crowd… His black brimmed hat tilted towards the town above an unsmiling face.

“Good lord…” The sheriff shakes his head.

The hat and shoulders slowly weave through the crowd, onto the porch…

The deputy almost dives out of his way as the father’s heels click against wood.

The deputy takes his hat off and bows…

“How was the train, Father?”

The father removes his dark brimmed hat…

And reveals cold white eyes…

The deputy gasps audibly…

The sheriff remains unmoved.

“Point me to the man I’ve come to serve.”

The sheriff points to the hall of cells.

“The one at the end.”

The father picks up his bag.

And marches down the hall.

***

The Last Will and Testament of Mark Flynn

I, Mark Flynn, being of a mind that the United States of America refuses to allow me to state is sound, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. I revoke all wills and codicils previously made by me. I’ve been making a will once a week, so don't any of you get your hopes up.

To Sebastian Duke, a man I’ve never had the slightest modicum of respect for, I leave this video explaining me tapping out to a child.

http://s2.excoboard.com/exco/archive.php?ac=t&forumid=165590&date=12-30-2012&t=2365561-1

Do you see how I’m tapping out to a child for shits and giggles? Are you really trashing me for doing a little bit of charity work? Are you angry because my $5 service got a big line than your shitty $5 autograph table, you miserable cunt?

God…I’m sorry, I’ll eviscerate all of my loved ones before the end of this document… But, I’m going to miss swearing. Whether I die actually this Sunday or die on the inside staying on Warfare. The beauty of unacceptably uncensored language has never been more apparent to me than right the fuck now.

As a result, this motherfucking Will and Testament is TV-M, cocksucker.

***

The father steps silently. Passing empty containers of expired men… Shuffled off this mortal coil against their will…

He allows a finger to tap one of the bars next to him, as he walks…

The wall coming closer with every step… The sunlight disappearing behind the wall…

He finally reaches the cell… where he sees a pair elbows resting against the bar.

He takes a step further and their eyes meet.

The giant lets his bag drop to his feet as he sizes up his competition.

As the dwarf cackles.

“Company… I’ve always enjoyed a bit of idle conversation before a hanging…”

The father adjusts his sleeves up his arms. “I’ve heard such.”

“Would you like to come in? I’ve been cleaning and spit shining all day getting ready for you. Unfortunately with my tight schedule and limited allowance, I couldn’t get any food from the market, but I’ve got a half a rat under the bed if you’re hungry.”

The doctor turns, ignoring this challenge. “Deputy.”

The deputy dashes from the table and stands at attention, going so far as to salute.

“I require a chair.”

The deputy sprints to find a suitable seat…

“Planning on staying a while?”

The father turns and stares coldly into this man.

“As long as I must, Josiah…”

Josiah shrugs as he leans against the wall beside him.

“Your loss.”
***
To the Duke.

I leave this.

You tried three different occasions to give me a run for my money and Future Legend Jordi hit me harder than you did in one try.

You’ve failed from end to end to even move me past second gear. I’ve had to take swings at other people just to keep myself from getting bored.

And you dare just shit out a bunch of pictures of me in a last-ditch effort to do… anything?

Jesus Christ, Duke. How the fuck do you have a winning streak of any length?

Hang on. I’ve got to outdo at your own game for at least the fifth time this week.

Here’s Sebastian Duke preparing another devastating SOUL SHOT!

[Image: Funny-sports-pictures-undertaker-cm-punk...chslap.jpg]

Here’s Sebastian Duke doing his scary face to play mind games with his opponent.

[Image: bug-eyed-undertaker.png]

Terrifying.

Here’s Sebastian Duke showing off his natural grace and ability in the ring.



And I’m done. Check and mate. In two pictures and a video, I outdid your pathetic slideshow presentation.

You must feel really bad, Duke. I bet you worked for hours on that, finding the perfect pictures, not accepting ones unless they didn’t have logos.

I mean, you’ve worked so hard this week. That video you put together to open Warfare with! Solid B- effort, kid!

And just like every other time, you’ve tried to step into my domain, I just outclass you in the most embarrassingly over the top manner.

I’ll tell you what, Dukey.

I’ll recognize that you beat me twice and have legitimate claims to a 2 and 0 record against me.

When you admit that Angelus has beaten you fairly.

When you admit on three separate occasions, Angelus has pinned you, embarrassed you. Is all around better than you.

And the only reason that Angelus isn't getting a US Title shot this Sunday...

Is because he already failed and you're the new favorite

When you admit that you’re the XWF’s number one puppy, being sent out to do tricks and is urinating all over the carpet trying not to embarrass himself.

If there’s one horse race that and his stooge Witastick are trying to fix, it’s this one.

You’ve been manufactured like a shoe in a sweatshop, perfectly designed to satisfy all of the XWF’s commercial needs.

You’re dark but in a scary way that the kids like.

You can’t trash talk which means there’s no risk of you for a second delaying the feed.

You’re an evil monster who defeats the darkness. But, sure, you’ll sign an autograph for that kid.

5 dollars, please.

You disgust me, Duke.

This fight isn’t you versus me.

This is Mark Flynn fighting against the tools of oppression.

This is Mark Flynn saving those stupid fucking ticketholders from cheering for a sell out.

Angelus tried it and I stopped him.

Now, look where he is.

Not only is he being sacrificed to a bunch of rookies so the XWF can forget about him and move on.

But, if you win, you get to face him, with his title on the line and not yours.

Straight from the desk of Wallace Witastick.

Are you so blind that you can’t see how much of a pawn you are, Duke?

For a man affiliated with the Illuminati.

You seem unaware of how rigged and pre-determined this game we’re playing is, how stacked the deck is against those of us who refuse to kowtow to the pimps that want us to sell our souls...

Something you, my Angel of darkness, seemed to do for the same price as those kids buying your name on a sheet of paper.

Or maybe you’re just fine with being fed titles, with being ’s prostitute.

Well, that shit doesn’t fly in my ring.

And let me assure you.

I’m leaving Gauntlet City the United States Champion.

But don’t worry, Duke. I’m leaving you something too…

To Sebastian Duke, I, Mark Flynn.

Leave one loss.

One embarrassing defeat.

One submission ending to a match where Duke is the one begging to get his arm back.

One more night where Mark.

Fucking.

FUCKING.
F.
U.
C.
KING of the XWF FLYNN.

Proves he’s better than the rest of you.

Sic Semper Corruptio, Duke.

Thus always to the corrupt.

Sic Semper Luca.

Thus always to whores…

…

You cunt.

***

The father pulls out the holy book as his subject refuses to take his eyes off of him.

“We begin with Penance. The absolution of your sins as you travel to judgment.”

“Nah.”

The preacher looks up from his book. Josiah shakes his head.

“I like my sins. I’d like to keep them as unabsoluted as possible if you don’t mind…”

The preacher stares daggers into the evil demon before him…

“Then, we move onto Anointment. Where we pray for your relief and ask God that his Grace bring and end to your Suffering.”

“Suffering?”

The father looks up again.

“Do you think I’m suffering?”

The preacher sighs.

“I suppose you don’t want to take the Eucharist, then either?”

Josiah nods behind him.

“If you want to split the rat, I’d be willing to dip it in Jesus’ blood.”

The father throws the Holy Book into the bag.

He crosses his hand on his forehead, chest and shoulders.

“Then, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…”

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

The father heaves his bag off the ground...

“Mercy?”

The father looks coldly at this criminal…

Who sports a genuinely perplexed face…

“You think I’m in need of mercy?”

The preacher spits.

“Mercy against the fires of Hell.”

Josiah Flynn grins…

“Sit. Please, preacher. Just a few minutes.”

The holy man sighs. It is his duty to see a dying man to his resting place.

He takes a seat.

“Let me tell you about Hell…”

***

Anyway, I’m fairly certain this already stopped being a legal document when I put a video in it. Might as well ride this plane crash straight into the ground.

To Tyler Decker, I leave my schtick.

You’ve been borrowing it for years. It’s yours now. Do with it as you do.

Which seems to be ‘Slightly worse than whatever original he’s imitating.’

Congratulations on keeping the debating going on who was the real weak link after you and Ray Ray split up.

We all thought after Ray Ray retired it must have been him, but leave it to Decker to not be able to finish something we all thought was over.

Well done.

To Unknown Legend Jordi, I leave my thanks.

All the pieces have come together.

I realize only now that no one has ever seen Future Legend Jordi and Unknown Soldier in the same place at the same time.

The same way that no one hasn’t enjoyed a Future Legend Jordi appearance. Although, it’s difficult to say the same about Soldier.

But, still, now it’s clear why you lost to Sebastian Duke in such an embarrassing, emasculating fashion.

Because you’re so busy running your own club. We’re all a bunch of losers with no lives.

And judging by your work this work, Soldier. It’s clear that you just don’t have the time to put out the good stuff you used to.

Karl Cross rolls over in his grave thinking about what a cakewalk it would be to beat you now.

Match of the Century, my ass.

To John Black, I leave my undying gratitude.

As a friend.

As a brother.

As a brutha.

Thank you.

To Peter Gilmour, a lifetime supply of Yellow Play-Doh.

Don’t eat it all at once there, kiddo.

To NAZI, I leave a cordial greeting he never seems to receive

I don’t think we’ve ever met before.

I’m Mark Flynn.

People hate me, too.

Nice to meet you.

To Johnny Madison…

…

I’ve thought long and hard about what I would write here…

What do you leave to Johnny Madison?

The man that has everything?

I realize that I could never give Johnny Madison something that truly interests him.

Title shots, contracts, Pay-Per-View Main Events? All things he’s received and thrown away.

But, to Johnny Madison.

I leave Nothing.

Silence.

Disinterest.

Does that piss you off, Madison?

Does after weeks of biting your nails, begging for me to take a swing…

The desire to get people to pay attention to you is still sad.

Like a child who shat on the floor so he could feel his mother’s hand on his backside.

That’s what Madison trash talk feels like.

“Hey Mama Flynn! Look what I did! Guess you’re going to have to beat me now, huh?”

No, Johnny.

Not only are you not worth my time.

You’re not worth my continued interest.

You’ve gone from the Machiavellian Artisan who singlehandedly killed the XWF.

To the elderly geriatric in an armchair who talks about how great it was when he singlehandedly killed the XWF.

I’m the old guy in XWF. How the Hell are you more senile than me?

Sorry to ask but do you have any newer work?

No? And I’m wrong for asking?

No. No thanks. I’ve already listened to ‘Johnny Madison’s Greatest Oldie Classics Vol. 3.

I enjoyed it more the first time. You know when I said it.

Hell, Madison, you even stole getting things stolen from you from me. THAT WAS MY THING!

I’ll tell you what though, Madison.

I hope you, Mister Mystery and I happens. I want it even more than that crown.

Because the only thing I’d love more than stealing a win from the both of you seperately.

Is having the both of you beat each other unconscious while I steal another victory.

Thanks, Maddy. I’ll be sure to actually break your arm this time.

For old time’s sake.

Fuck the XWF.

Long Live its King.

Signed,

Mark Flynn

XOXO
***
“Do you know why I’m being executed?”

The father stares silently.

“Murder. Theft. It’s a decent sized list, Josiah.”

“Why would a man do those things, do you think, preacher?”

“You’ve fallen out of the Lord’s sight. The Devil tempted you and led you away from his flock…”

Josiah claps and points to the holy man.

“That’s it, preacher. You got it in one guess.”

“Are we done, then?”

“Do you know what I did before I was deemed by the state of Texas to be a threat worthy of prosecution?”

The preacher turns his head to the side, eager to end this interaction.

“No.”

“I was a teacher. You ever hear of René Descartes?”

“No.” The preacher taps his foot, trying to expedite the process.

Flynn turns away from the holy man…

“He believed that this power to perceive the world around him proved his existence. I think therefore I am. You ever hear that one before?”

The preacher sighs, trying to regain his patience. “Yes, Josiah. I’m familiar with the phrase.”

“However, he pondered what existence meant. Was the way he perceived his actions proof of their accuracy or were the stimuli and interactions around him only the way he chose to understand and were in fact inaccurate. He couldn’t possibly say. He could only confirm that he in fact could in one way or another see and that proved that he was some material part of whatever the world was.”

“Is there a point to this, Flynn?”

Flynn slams his fist into the bars. A loud clang can be heard echoing through the sheriff’s office…

“What if I saw the world, in a moment of clarity for it truly was… What if my only crime was uncovering the true nature of the world around me? The way I’ve offended you trying to save my soul in your reality, can you see me trying to save yours in mine, Father?”

The father springs out of his chair.

The sheriff and deputy rush from their game as the Father lifts Josiah a foot into the air by his throat.

Both officers of the law grab Father Duke by the arms, trying to pull him off, but he proves too strong, too overcome by God’s strength…

Flynn’s feet dangle in the air as Duke stares into his eyes…

“Do you see Hell in my eyes, boy? Do you see the damnation and hellfire that awaits you?” The father curses…

Flynn gags for air before staring down at the enraged pastor…

“I don’t see… anything…”

Duke stops… And drops Flynn on wobbly feet. He crashes to his knees, struggling for oxygen.

The sheriff and deputy yank Duke back to the wall, in case Josiah delivers another rambling rave…

Instead, Flynn just coughs and swallows, like a fish re-entering the sea…

Flynn looks up from the floor.

And mimics Duke’s arm motions. Forehead, chest, shoulder to shoulder.

“I forgive you, preacher.”

Duke springs for the cell.

“UNLOCK THIS FUCKING CELL!”

The sheriff and his deputy struggle to keep his arms off of Josiah.

“Father, please…”

“He’s possessed… Josiah’s done claimed the preacher…”

“I WILL FUCKING TEAR YOU APART!”

“I bless you, child.” Flynn cackles as he slides back to the wall away from the preacher…

“And in the name of Hypocrisy…”

“FUCK YOU! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Deceit…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Deputy, pull him out of here…”

The two men struggle with Duke as if he’s a snake in a burlap sack…

Flynn rushes to the edge of the cell.

“AND THE CORRUPT SPIRIT! I HEREBY FREE YOU OF YOUR EVILS! GO OUT IN MY NAME AND PREACH FREEDOM!”

Duke is finally pushed onto the porch.

He turns to the crowd.

“THAT MAN IS POSSESSED BY A DEMON! STRIKE HIM DOWN NOW OR A PLAGUE FROM THE LORD HIMSELF WILL BEFALL THIS TOWN!”

Duke spits as the crowd looks on silently.

“YOUR CHILDREN WILL BURN IN HELL IF THIS MAN IS ALLOWED TO SPEAK FOR AN HOUR MORE…”

The deputy slips the preacher’s bag out the door. Duke yanks it from his hands and marches toward the train station… Impatiently stomping through the collection…

He calls out as he reaches the edge of the crowd.

“THIS IS A TEST FROM GOD HIMSELF! PASS OR FACE HIS JUDGMENT!”

Inside, Josiah Flynn smiles…

“Another soul saved from Heaven…”

The sheriff unlocks his cell.

“It’s time…”

Flynn nods.

“One more show…”]]>
There’s a crowd in the town square. Grumbling. Calling out. Slowly turning from the hanging platform set up at the front to the sheriff’s office to the West. Equipped with mugs of whiskey, a femme from the local saloon actually stepping outside to serve drinks, so as not to miss out on this unique business opportunity. Fathers stand with sons on their shoulders. The women left at their houses, given the opportunity to avoid seeing this grotesque disply of mortality, dust the same shelf for hours to stay near a window with a view…

The town knows the purpose of the gathering. To watch the hanging of a criminal and a murderer and a thief. A man who has evaded capture and execution for almost a year.

A man who deserves, above all others, to die.

The world hates this man. And they are prepared for him to die. More than that, they are eager to watch a man squirm at the hangman’s noose to wrench the last of his life likethe bartender twisting the liquid from his rag…

The crowd starts to turn… They slide towards the sheriff’s office… almost silently…

One man, the town doctor, carefully steps up and onto the porch. He revolves nervously to the crowd. A few nod…

The doctor slips through the swinging door…

Silence outside…

On the inside, deathly quiet. The sheriff and his deputy sitting around a deck of cards. The sheriff slides three on the table and gets returned three.

The doctor holds his hat in his hands as he waits for attention.

The deputy looks from his cards as does the sheriff.

“Something the matter, Doc?”

The doctor shakes his head. “No, sheriff. Just that the hanging was supposed to happen at noon. We’ve had Art Miller’s son running back and forth from the train station and the last time he came back, it was half past noon…”

The eyes of the law return to his cards.

“A man, no matter how wicked, has to have his last rites… We’re waiting for the father to get here to deliver ‘em.”

A low laugh can be heard from around the corner… Inside the cells…

“SHUT UP IN THERE! I TOLD YOU GODDAMNIT YOU MAKE A SOUND, YOU HANG WITH A BROKEN JAW!” The deputy calls out. The laughter stops, but a giggling continues.

The doctor remains silently in the room for a moment. Then, leaves.

A low grumbling starts outside… Hushed whispers. The deputy puts two back and the sheriff takes the deck to shuffle the cards…

“These cards are wet…” The sheriff turns to the deputy who wipes his forward… Swallowing down dry throat…

“You nervous about something, Glen?”

Glen’s eyes shoot up.

“N…Naw, sheriff. It’s just a hot day.”

The sheriff turns from his deputy to see the people gathered outside.

They’ve been waiting since 8 am.

Four and a half hours in blistering Texas heat…

The sheriff shakes his head as he stares down at his new hand.

“Lousy luck, today…”

Suddenly, there’s an uproar of sound. The people outside start to cheer, actual applause…

The sheriff scratches his head as the deputy sprints for the front door.

The deputy turns and smiles… a mixture of relief and anticipation…

“The Preacher’s here…”

The sheriff presses himself out of his chair and goes for the window instead.

The crowd has surrounded the newcomer.

Who stands a good foot above the crowd… His black brimmed hat tilted towards the town above an unsmiling face.

“Good lord…” The sheriff shakes his head.

The hat and shoulders slowly weave through the crowd, onto the porch…

The deputy almost dives out of his way as the father’s heels click against wood.

The deputy takes his hat off and bows…

“How was the train, Father?”

The father removes his dark brimmed hat…

And reveals cold white eyes…

The deputy gasps audibly…

The sheriff remains unmoved.

“Point me to the man I’ve come to serve.”

The sheriff points to the hall of cells.

“The one at the end.”

The father picks up his bag.

And marches down the hall.

***

The Last Will and Testament of Mark Flynn

I, Mark Flynn, being of a mind that the United States of America refuses to allow me to state is sound, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. I revoke all wills and codicils previously made by me. I’ve been making a will once a week, so don't any of you get your hopes up.

To Sebastian Duke, a man I’ve never had the slightest modicum of respect for, I leave this video explaining me tapping out to a child.

http://s2.excoboard.com/exco/archive.php?ac=t&forumid=165590&date=12-30-2012&t=2365561-1

Do you see how I’m tapping out to a child for shits and giggles? Are you really trashing me for doing a little bit of charity work? Are you angry because my $5 service got a big line than your shitty $5 autograph table, you miserable cunt?

God…I’m sorry, I’ll eviscerate all of my loved ones before the end of this document… But, I’m going to miss swearing. Whether I die actually this Sunday or die on the inside staying on Warfare. The beauty of unacceptably uncensored language has never been more apparent to me than right the fuck now.

As a result, this motherfucking Will and Testament is TV-M, cocksucker.

***

The father steps silently. Passing empty containers of expired men… Shuffled off this mortal coil against their will…

He allows a finger to tap one of the bars next to him, as he walks…

The wall coming closer with every step… The sunlight disappearing behind the wall…

He finally reaches the cell… where he sees a pair elbows resting against the bar.

He takes a step further and their eyes meet.

The giant lets his bag drop to his feet as he sizes up his competition.

As the dwarf cackles.

“Company… I’ve always enjoyed a bit of idle conversation before a hanging…”

The father adjusts his sleeves up his arms. “I’ve heard such.”

“Would you like to come in? I’ve been cleaning and spit shining all day getting ready for you. Unfortunately with my tight schedule and limited allowance, I couldn’t get any food from the market, but I’ve got a half a rat under the bed if you’re hungry.”

The doctor turns, ignoring this challenge. “Deputy.”

The deputy dashes from the table and stands at attention, going so far as to salute.

“I require a chair.”

The deputy sprints to find a suitable seat…

“Planning on staying a while?”

The father turns and stares coldly into this man.

“As long as I must, Josiah…”

Josiah shrugs as he leans against the wall beside him.

“Your loss.”
***
To the Duke.

I leave this.

You tried three different occasions to give me a run for my money and Future Legend Jordi hit me harder than you did in one try.

You’ve failed from end to end to even move me past second gear. I’ve had to take swings at other people just to keep myself from getting bored.

And you dare just shit out a bunch of pictures of me in a last-ditch effort to do… anything?

Jesus Christ, Duke. How the fuck do you have a winning streak of any length?

Hang on. I’ve got to outdo at your own game for at least the fifth time this week.

Here’s Sebastian Duke preparing another devastating SOUL SHOT!

[Image: Funny-sports-pictures-undertaker-cm-punk...chslap.jpg]

Here’s Sebastian Duke doing his scary face to play mind games with his opponent.

[Image: bug-eyed-undertaker.png]

Terrifying.

Here’s Sebastian Duke showing off his natural grace and ability in the ring.



And I’m done. Check and mate. In two pictures and a video, I outdid your pathetic slideshow presentation.

You must feel really bad, Duke. I bet you worked for hours on that, finding the perfect pictures, not accepting ones unless they didn’t have logos.

I mean, you’ve worked so hard this week. That video you put together to open Warfare with! Solid B- effort, kid!

And just like every other time, you’ve tried to step into my domain, I just outclass you in the most embarrassingly over the top manner.

I’ll tell you what, Dukey.

I’ll recognize that you beat me twice and have legitimate claims to a 2 and 0 record against me.

When you admit that Angelus has beaten you fairly.

When you admit on three separate occasions, Angelus has pinned you, embarrassed you. Is all around better than you.

And the only reason that Angelus isn't getting a US Title shot this Sunday...

Is because he already failed and you're the new favorite

When you admit that you’re the XWF’s number one puppy, being sent out to do tricks and is urinating all over the carpet trying not to embarrass himself.

If there’s one horse race that and his stooge Witastick are trying to fix, it’s this one.

You’ve been manufactured like a shoe in a sweatshop, perfectly designed to satisfy all of the XWF’s commercial needs.

You’re dark but in a scary way that the kids like.

You can’t trash talk which means there’s no risk of you for a second delaying the feed.

You’re an evil monster who defeats the darkness. But, sure, you’ll sign an autograph for that kid.

5 dollars, please.

You disgust me, Duke.

This fight isn’t you versus me.

This is Mark Flynn fighting against the tools of oppression.

This is Mark Flynn saving those stupid fucking ticketholders from cheering for a sell out.

Angelus tried it and I stopped him.

Now, look where he is.

Not only is he being sacrificed to a bunch of rookies so the XWF can forget about him and move on.

But, if you win, you get to face him, with his title on the line and not yours.

Straight from the desk of Wallace Witastick.

Are you so blind that you can’t see how much of a pawn you are, Duke?

For a man affiliated with the Illuminati.

You seem unaware of how rigged and pre-determined this game we’re playing is, how stacked the deck is against those of us who refuse to kowtow to the pimps that want us to sell our souls...

Something you, my Angel of darkness, seemed to do for the same price as those kids buying your name on a sheet of paper.

Or maybe you’re just fine with being fed titles, with being ’s prostitute.

Well, that shit doesn’t fly in my ring.

And let me assure you.

I’m leaving Gauntlet City the United States Champion.

But don’t worry, Duke. I’m leaving you something too…

To Sebastian Duke, I, Mark Flynn.

Leave one loss.

One embarrassing defeat.

One submission ending to a match where Duke is the one begging to get his arm back.

One more night where Mark.

Fucking.

FUCKING.
F.
U.
C.
KING of the XWF FLYNN.

Proves he’s better than the rest of you.

Sic Semper Corruptio, Duke.

Thus always to the corrupt.

Sic Semper Luca.

Thus always to whores…

…

You cunt.

***

The father pulls out the holy book as his subject refuses to take his eyes off of him.

“We begin with Penance. The absolution of your sins as you travel to judgment.”

“Nah.”

The preacher looks up from his book. Josiah shakes his head.

“I like my sins. I’d like to keep them as unabsoluted as possible if you don’t mind…”

The preacher stares daggers into the evil demon before him…

“Then, we move onto Anointment. Where we pray for your relief and ask God that his Grace bring and end to your Suffering.”

“Suffering?”

The father looks up again.

“Do you think I’m suffering?”

The preacher sighs.

“I suppose you don’t want to take the Eucharist, then either?”

Josiah nods behind him.

“If you want to split the rat, I’d be willing to dip it in Jesus’ blood.”

The father throws the Holy Book into the bag.

He crosses his hand on his forehead, chest and shoulders.

“Then, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…”

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

The father heaves his bag off the ground...

“Mercy?”

The father looks coldly at this criminal…

Who sports a genuinely perplexed face…

“You think I’m in need of mercy?”

The preacher spits.

“Mercy against the fires of Hell.”

Josiah Flynn grins…

“Sit. Please, preacher. Just a few minutes.”

The holy man sighs. It is his duty to see a dying man to his resting place.

He takes a seat.

“Let me tell you about Hell…”

***

Anyway, I’m fairly certain this already stopped being a legal document when I put a video in it. Might as well ride this plane crash straight into the ground.

To Tyler Decker, I leave my schtick.

You’ve been borrowing it for years. It’s yours now. Do with it as you do.

Which seems to be ‘Slightly worse than whatever original he’s imitating.’

Congratulations on keeping the debating going on who was the real weak link after you and Ray Ray split up.

We all thought after Ray Ray retired it must have been him, but leave it to Decker to not be able to finish something we all thought was over.

Well done.

To Unknown Legend Jordi, I leave my thanks.

All the pieces have come together.

I realize only now that no one has ever seen Future Legend Jordi and Unknown Soldier in the same place at the same time.

The same way that no one hasn’t enjoyed a Future Legend Jordi appearance. Although, it’s difficult to say the same about Soldier.

But, still, now it’s clear why you lost to Sebastian Duke in such an embarrassing, emasculating fashion.

Because you’re so busy running your own club. We’re all a bunch of losers with no lives.

And judging by your work this work, Soldier. It’s clear that you just don’t have the time to put out the good stuff you used to.

Karl Cross rolls over in his grave thinking about what a cakewalk it would be to beat you now.

Match of the Century, my ass.

To John Black, I leave my undying gratitude.

As a friend.

As a brother.

As a brutha.

Thank you.

To Peter Gilmour, a lifetime supply of Yellow Play-Doh.

Don’t eat it all at once there, kiddo.

To NAZI, I leave a cordial greeting he never seems to receive

I don’t think we’ve ever met before.

I’m Mark Flynn.

People hate me, too.

Nice to meet you.

To Johnny Madison…

…

I’ve thought long and hard about what I would write here…

What do you leave to Johnny Madison?

The man that has everything?

I realize that I could never give Johnny Madison something that truly interests him.

Title shots, contracts, Pay-Per-View Main Events? All things he’s received and thrown away.

But, to Johnny Madison.

I leave Nothing.

Silence.

Disinterest.

Does that piss you off, Madison?

Does after weeks of biting your nails, begging for me to take a swing…

The desire to get people to pay attention to you is still sad.

Like a child who shat on the floor so he could feel his mother’s hand on his backside.

That’s what Madison trash talk feels like.

“Hey Mama Flynn! Look what I did! Guess you’re going to have to beat me now, huh?”

No, Johnny.

Not only are you not worth my time.

You’re not worth my continued interest.

You’ve gone from the Machiavellian Artisan who singlehandedly killed the XWF.

To the elderly geriatric in an armchair who talks about how great it was when he singlehandedly killed the XWF.

I’m the old guy in XWF. How the Hell are you more senile than me?

Sorry to ask but do you have any newer work?

No? And I’m wrong for asking?

No. No thanks. I’ve already listened to ‘Johnny Madison’s Greatest Oldie Classics Vol. 3.

I enjoyed it more the first time. You know when I said it.

Hell, Madison, you even stole getting things stolen from you from me. THAT WAS MY THING!

I’ll tell you what though, Madison.

I hope you, Mister Mystery and I happens. I want it even more than that crown.

Because the only thing I’d love more than stealing a win from the both of you seperately.

Is having the both of you beat each other unconscious while I steal another victory.

Thanks, Maddy. I’ll be sure to actually break your arm this time.

For old time’s sake.

Fuck the XWF.

Long Live its King.

Signed,

Mark Flynn

XOXO
***
“Do you know why I’m being executed?”

The father stares silently.

“Murder. Theft. It’s a decent sized list, Josiah.”

“Why would a man do those things, do you think, preacher?”

“You’ve fallen out of the Lord’s sight. The Devil tempted you and led you away from his flock…”

Josiah claps and points to the holy man.

“That’s it, preacher. You got it in one guess.”

“Are we done, then?”

“Do you know what I did before I was deemed by the state of Texas to be a threat worthy of prosecution?”

The preacher turns his head to the side, eager to end this interaction.

“No.”

“I was a teacher. You ever hear of René Descartes?”

“No.” The preacher taps his foot, trying to expedite the process.

Flynn turns away from the holy man…

“He believed that this power to perceive the world around him proved his existence. I think therefore I am. You ever hear that one before?”

The preacher sighs, trying to regain his patience. “Yes, Josiah. I’m familiar with the phrase.”

“However, he pondered what existence meant. Was the way he perceived his actions proof of their accuracy or were the stimuli and interactions around him only the way he chose to understand and were in fact inaccurate. He couldn’t possibly say. He could only confirm that he in fact could in one way or another see and that proved that he was some material part of whatever the world was.”

“Is there a point to this, Flynn?”

Flynn slams his fist into the bars. A loud clang can be heard echoing through the sheriff’s office…

“What if I saw the world, in a moment of clarity for it truly was… What if my only crime was uncovering the true nature of the world around me? The way I’ve offended you trying to save my soul in your reality, can you see me trying to save yours in mine, Father?”

The father springs out of his chair.

The sheriff and deputy rush from their game as the Father lifts Josiah a foot into the air by his throat.

Both officers of the law grab Father Duke by the arms, trying to pull him off, but he proves too strong, too overcome by God’s strength…

Flynn’s feet dangle in the air as Duke stares into his eyes…

“Do you see Hell in my eyes, boy? Do you see the damnation and hellfire that awaits you?” The father curses…

Flynn gags for air before staring down at the enraged pastor…

“I don’t see… anything…”

Duke stops… And drops Flynn on wobbly feet. He crashes to his knees, struggling for oxygen.

The sheriff and deputy yank Duke back to the wall, in case Josiah delivers another rambling rave…

Instead, Flynn just coughs and swallows, like a fish re-entering the sea…

Flynn looks up from the floor.

And mimics Duke’s arm motions. Forehead, chest, shoulder to shoulder.

“I forgive you, preacher.”

Duke springs for the cell.

“UNLOCK THIS FUCKING CELL!”

The sheriff and his deputy struggle to keep his arms off of Josiah.

“Father, please…”

“He’s possessed… Josiah’s done claimed the preacher…”

“I WILL FUCKING TEAR YOU APART!”

“I bless you, child.” Flynn cackles as he slides back to the wall away from the preacher…

“And in the name of Hypocrisy…”

“FUCK YOU! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Deceit…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Deputy, pull him out of here…”

The two men struggle with Duke as if he’s a snake in a burlap sack…

Flynn rushes to the edge of the cell.

“AND THE CORRUPT SPIRIT! I HEREBY FREE YOU OF YOUR EVILS! GO OUT IN MY NAME AND PREACH FREEDOM!”

Duke is finally pushed onto the porch.

He turns to the crowd.

“THAT MAN IS POSSESSED BY A DEMON! STRIKE HIM DOWN NOW OR A PLAGUE FROM THE LORD HIMSELF WILL BEFALL THIS TOWN!”

Duke spits as the crowd looks on silently.

“YOUR CHILDREN WILL BURN IN HELL IF THIS MAN IS ALLOWED TO SPEAK FOR AN HOUR MORE…”

The deputy slips the preacher’s bag out the door. Duke yanks it from his hands and marches toward the train station… Impatiently stomping through the collection…

He calls out as he reaches the edge of the crowd.

“THIS IS A TEST FROM GOD HIMSELF! PASS OR FACE HIS JUDGMENT!”

Inside, Josiah Flynn smiles…

“Another soul saved from Heaven…”

The sheriff unlocks his cell.

“It’s time…”

Flynn nods.

“One more show…”]]> <![CDATA[The End of the Darkest Days[UFO and Gauntlet]]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1933 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 09:51:04 -0700 Ursula Areano]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1933 ^v^v^
I find hope in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe. - Dalai Lama
^v^v^

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT4zTPC79nAcbQls-BO9Df...fXufQdB2nR]

Location:London, England
Date:3/31/13



The scene opened in the hotel room of Ursula, the music above is playing in the quiet room. The song is traveling in and out the ears of the young woman.


When you think of the Darkest Days. The days that your alone and no one there. Like the homeless, wishing they had somewhere to go. That is the pain people won't understand. The same way about my homeland. Instead of people claiming me as and alien. But don't understand the story.


I stated these facts before. But they will never understand. The same way how people will sale there soul for money. For the fact of gold. Like the title that I will will be fighting for, all these men will pull a cheap card to get the win in a match.


The greed of a win to them is like a drug to them. Just the fact of them getting the cheap win, an easy fucking roll up. Instead of making a statement of there own. All the smoke and mirrors will not save you from me. That fact that I am come after all of you. The fact the Darkest Days will end and the light will show through the cracks as we know it.


Ursula pauses for a moment or so.


I know what you fans are think. I got down to the nitty gritty, Well I guess you are right. I had to get my point across and out of the way. The only way the Darkest day will end if I am able to win the title. Maybe if I so happen to win the main event. In some way I will over the odds. I will look in the devils eyes and tell him fuck you.


The Dark age will end and I will end for the best. Will I be able to pull all my fight in both of these matches or will I just be stuck in the mud again without a way out?


-Fades to Darkness-

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT8RYDY4c-c0gD0hfK9gjB...TNACw1k_Xo]



As the screen opens up we venture into the locker room of the one and only Ursula Areano. We see her wrapping around athletic tape on her hands and forearms. As she finishes she leans over and begins to lace her converse. After a minute or two she laces both shoes. After she shoes is on she gets her MMA gloves and begins for war.


The time of war, the great battle to claim who is on top. But when these words cross your mind. You will never believe one of the name is the mix Ursula Areano. A name that people claim as an underdog. That she doesn't deserve to be here at all. That here English is so bad. She shouldn't even be here at all.


Ursula stops for a moment.


No matter the number I get in this match. I will pull everything I have in this fight. I will show the all the heart in the world to pull whatever I can in this match. I will find a way to overcome the odds I will pick my spot. This is all about showing what I can go this is my chance to show the world. I can't let this chance pass me by/


This will be the ultimate step me for me. The shot to show the world that Ursula is not a joke. That she has what it take to be the best again. This will mark me as the person I am. I will not die. I have what it takes, to finally be where I need to be. I must become the UFO champion. I must put everything in this fight and prove the people wrong.


I will show all the power and will in the world to outlast the people no matter what number I am. I will not quit until I become the best in the fucking world. That will be the day that all the hate is gone. That everyone will show me the damn credit for the wrestling and performer that I truly am today.


I hope all of you are ready for this PPV because I will pull every ounce of sweat, blood and tears into this match that I can. This will mark the day, that the Darkest Day will end forever in the life of Ursula Areano.

Camera shows Ursula getting ready for the biggest war, of here entire life in this time and date.


The End Has Come.


-Fades to Darkness-

]]> ^v^v^
I find hope in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe. - Dalai Lama
^v^v^

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT4zTPC79nAcbQls-BO9Df...fXufQdB2nR]

Location:London, England
Date:3/31/13



The scene opened in the hotel room of Ursula, the music above is playing in the quiet room. The song is traveling in and out the ears of the young woman.


When you think of the Darkest Days. The days that your alone and no one there. Like the homeless, wishing they had somewhere to go. That is the pain people won't understand. The same way about my homeland. Instead of people claiming me as and alien. But don't understand the story.


I stated these facts before. But they will never understand. The same way how people will sale there soul for money. For the fact of gold. Like the title that I will will be fighting for, all these men will pull a cheap card to get the win in a match.


The greed of a win to them is like a drug to them. Just the fact of them getting the cheap win, an easy fucking roll up. Instead of making a statement of there own. All the smoke and mirrors will not save you from me. That fact that I am come after all of you. The fact the Darkest Days will end and the light will show through the cracks as we know it.


Ursula pauses for a moment or so.


I know what you fans are think. I got down to the nitty gritty, Well I guess you are right. I had to get my point across and out of the way. The only way the Darkest day will end if I am able to win the title. Maybe if I so happen to win the main event. In some way I will over the odds. I will look in the devils eyes and tell him fuck you.


The Dark age will end and I will end for the best. Will I be able to pull all my fight in both of these matches or will I just be stuck in the mud again without a way out?


-Fades to Darkness-

[Image: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT8RYDY4c-c0gD0hfK9gjB...TNACw1k_Xo]



As the screen opens up we venture into the locker room of the one and only Ursula Areano. We see her wrapping around athletic tape on her hands and forearms. As she finishes she leans over and begins to lace her converse. After a minute or two she laces both shoes. After she shoes is on she gets her MMA gloves and begins for war.


The time of war, the great battle to claim who is on top. But when these words cross your mind. You will never believe one of the name is the mix Ursula Areano. A name that people claim as an underdog. That she doesn't deserve to be here at all. That here English is so bad. She shouldn't even be here at all.


Ursula stops for a moment.


No matter the number I get in this match. I will pull everything I have in this fight. I will show the all the heart in the world to pull whatever I can in this match. I will find a way to overcome the odds I will pick my spot. This is all about showing what I can go this is my chance to show the world. I can't let this chance pass me by/


This will be the ultimate step me for me. The shot to show the world that Ursula is not a joke. That she has what it take to be the best again. This will mark me as the person I am. I will not die. I have what it takes, to finally be where I need to be. I must become the UFO champion. I must put everything in this fight and prove the people wrong.


I will show all the power and will in the world to outlast the people no matter what number I am. I will not quit until I become the best in the fucking world. That will be the day that all the hate is gone. That everyone will show me the damn credit for the wrestling and performer that I truly am today.


I hope all of you are ready for this PPV because I will pull every ounce of sweat, blood and tears into this match that I can. This will mark the day, that the Darkest Day will end forever in the life of Ursula Areano.

Camera shows Ursula getting ready for the biggest war, of here entire life in this time and date.


The End Has Come.


-Fades to Darkness-

]]> <![CDATA[A quick one for number six!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1927 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 09:33:14 -0700 John Msdison 2.Faggot]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1927 Fred said it? Oh no, I take it all back now, Neonero! Haha, try again.



How many times?


How many times do I need to beat this through your fucking skulls?


I realize-- no, I've screamed at you people-- that I've done "nothing" since War Games. Nothing! Notta, at least not in your eyes. Through your eyes I can understand why it would be difficult to see how much John Madison has accomplished since that night in October. Simple minded folks like Neonero refuse to believe in anything that isn't covered in gold or has some "reward" attached to it. But what exactly did I achieve prior to War Games? Hmm? A rookie battle royal for one of those "rewards" that you idiots cling to? Guess what I did with said reward-- I trashed it. Just like I did with War Games, and just like I'm about to do with Gauntlet City crown.


Now I don't want this to turn into some self bash session; no one wants to see that. But the point is; I did nothing of any importance prior to War Games but still caused more mayhem than anyone else on the entire roster. What have you done at all, Neonero? An easily forgettable European Title reign that is sure to be just as forgettable the second time around? Oh boy, I can't wait to see you "restore value to the belt," like everyone whose ever chased after a title has said a billion times. Is that really the card you're going to throw on the table? Haha, how convenient. You keep playing that card, Neonero. I'm sure that card will give you a decent run over on the Madness side of things. By the way, who's your competition over there?


No-- Please, please, please don't answer that question.


What would John Madison have to do to make you happy, Neonero? Seriously, let's go back on this subject of you wanting to see the old John Madison back. What the fuck was your point in that statement exactly? Was there one, or were you just trying to make yourself look relevant by having John Madison featured somewhere in your promo? Because I've yet to see a sliver of valid evidence to support your little claim.


You want to see John Madison carry the United States Title? Fuck no, just look at Mark Flynn as an example for what goes wrong when you become the ruler of a deserted island. He's bored and he's starving for competition. Not only that but Warfare, along with Madness, seems to be weighed down by networks and their censorship. No thank you. I want the viewers at home to see my penis in High Definition. I want them to see the blood flying into the screen when I put the guillotine to work. Holy shit, those two things I just mentioned alone sound better than anything Neonero has done. Maybe if you win that European Title, you can just put a monitor on the face plate that shows what John Madison did on Saturday Shove it! Maybe then people would tune in to see Neonero walk down the aisle with a belt on. Maybe you can even throw a few of my old clips on there that you seem to have a boner for.


Shove It! Saturday; my pride and joy. And now you could argue; why hasn't John Madison won the big won for Shove-It?


Oh I don't know, Neonero. I guess the thought of carrying around the North Korean Title bores me. I'd rather just go around, piss people off, and step on all the cockroaches that Shane brings in. I'm in the business of having fun and causing violence, and I'm pretty damn good at it. Shove-It! is a lot of fun, trust me. Hey, you should come right on over and join us on the flagship show. On second thought, you probably couldn't stomach the shit we do on Saturday nights though. You just go ahead and stay over on Madness with Martin O'Connor where it's safe. You seemed pretty upset when you had to muster up the courage to talk about


I'm having the time of my life on Shove-It! Is the North Korean Title there? Yeah, I guess it is. I think I'll pass on it though and settle for cutting of heads and winnng King of the XWF. That's my kind of shit.


Oh, you expected people to make fun of you for your brilliant "GG NORE" gimmick? Yes, of course you did, silly me. Maybe I'll walk around and say "LOL NT TTYL!" But wait, because I realize how stupid it sounds, that automatically grants immunity to my idea being a ball of shit. Neonero logic there, folks.


Hey Neonero, in the future let's just skip the back and forth trash talk. Honestly, it's uninspiring to listen to a man who's never mattered try to sound like he matters. Give me one moment. Just ONE MOMENT where anyone gave a shit Neonero.


You beat Mark Flynn? No one gave a shit.


You carried the US Title for a couple of weeks? No one gave a shit.


You disappeared when you couldn't hack it anymore? No one gave a shit.


You're back? No one gives a shit.


When you leave again-- No one will give a shit.


Congratulations, you're sandwiched between the US Title which hasn't had a decent contender since who-knows-fucking-when, and the UFO-Who-Gives-A-Fuck Match. You won't restore dignity to the European Title, you'll just be the mediocre champion that it needs. A champion that no one cares about. Titles are a thing of the past, Neonero. "GG NORE" was never even a thing. People want to see heads fly off, literally. But you go ahead and keep carrying around that fossil and see how far it takes you.


While you're on filler duty (in both the Gauntlet and the card itself), I'll be winning a match which consists of actual, main event caliber competition. Hell, they even brought in CM Punk for the occasion. CM Punk; a guy who held a World Championship for four hundred something days. Jeff Hardy? Well, his best moment was stumbling out to the ring to get dropped on the mat by Sting. Yeah. The point is, they're bringing out all the stops for John Madison's matches. Neoneros-- not so much. You'll fill up ten minutes of air time and then everyone will move on to the next big thing.


In your eyes: I've done nothing. I've achieved nothing. Is that in a song too, Neonero? Fuck me!


I'm still higher up on the card than you. No, I'm not trying to turn this into some cock measuring contest (I think I got "cock measuring contest" from a movie), I'm simply throwing facts in your gook face since you seem to have it in your head that I've fallen into obscurity since War Games. Oh look, I resorted to racism, you can spend five minutes talk about that now. That's like a must hit point for any Neonero promo. Talk about my alliance with Nazis too because no one has ever hit on that before, right? Have fun with it. It doesn't matter what I do. I still garner more attention than you and any belt that you end up holding, and any half ass catchphrase that you manage to throw together. People want to see John Madison destroy everything in his path, including Neonero. I cut heads off, I piss on people, and I fuck corpses. You win shitty titles, lose them a couple of weeks later, and then leave with an ache in your butt.


But I'm glad that you're back to what you're doing, Neonero. Like I've said before; history will repeat itself this Sunday.


You'll win the European Title, and they will all stand up and pretend to give a fuck like they did the first time. You'll probably get burned out in another month and fade into obscurity again. That's your story-- that will always be your story.


Meanwhile, I'll be adding two more multi-contestant matches under my belt. I'll do "nothing" (as you like to infer) for two more months, and then I'll win whatever the next big thing is.


Dissect my words all you want, Neonero. The fact is; the old John Madison never left and you don't have a clue what you're talking about. You went to Gamestop? Oh, I'm laughing so hard at that; I think it might be the most interesting thing you've done in your entire career. That's what idiots like you would call "LMFAO," right?


I don't even know why I'm wasting my time here. You drew number six, and we both know you'll only make it past MacBeth and maybe CM Punk before you fail and walk home with that little participation trophy you call the European Title. What happens after you're done lying down for Donathan? Does Donathan get a "RE?" Hmm, it might be time to take your attention off of little old me, buddy! Why are we even bothering with this pointless discussion which started off with you fantasizing about "old John Madison." What's the point when we both know that you don't stand a chance in this Gauntlet. You won't even come close to whatever number I draw. Go bug someone else. Tell Mister Mystery how fucked he is or something. I think Macbeth is bored, tell him how much of a world of pain he's going to be in. Who else can you bother, let's see... Oh, there's your future challenger Martin O'Connor, he looks like a lot of fun!


Or just keep gunning for me; it doesn't make a difference. As long as you're having fun talking, then I'm having fun talking too. Maybe I'll find some more Fred Durst lyrics to hit you with since that seems to bring out your artsy side. Would you like that?


You won't make it this Sunday. You'll have to settle for that European strap again. Congratulations on that by the way; you should be so proud.


After Sunday, I doubt we'll ever see each other again seeing as how you'll probably settle for a convenient Eurotrash (Oh boy, there's the subject of your next five minute rant! I should go back and edit over that with just "European" in order to save Neonero's viewers from the rant of a lifetime.) Title reign on Mediocrity Monday.


So Neonero, I only have a couple of things left to say to you and all of your future performances in the XWF. And I think you'll appreciate the amount of European Champion-level creativity I put into this.



"LOL!"


"NT!"


"TTYL!"


Bye-bye, Nero. It was all fun!]]> Fred said it? Oh no, I take it all back now, Neonero! Haha, try again.



How many times?


How many times do I need to beat this through your fucking skulls?


I realize-- no, I've screamed at you people-- that I've done "nothing" since War Games. Nothing! Notta, at least not in your eyes. Through your eyes I can understand why it would be difficult to see how much John Madison has accomplished since that night in October. Simple minded folks like Neonero refuse to believe in anything that isn't covered in gold or has some "reward" attached to it. But what exactly did I achieve prior to War Games? Hmm? A rookie battle royal for one of those "rewards" that you idiots cling to? Guess what I did with said reward-- I trashed it. Just like I did with War Games, and just like I'm about to do with Gauntlet City crown.


Now I don't want this to turn into some self bash session; no one wants to see that. But the point is; I did nothing of any importance prior to War Games but still caused more mayhem than anyone else on the entire roster. What have you done at all, Neonero? An easily forgettable European Title reign that is sure to be just as forgettable the second time around? Oh boy, I can't wait to see you "restore value to the belt," like everyone whose ever chased after a title has said a billion times. Is that really the card you're going to throw on the table? Haha, how convenient. You keep playing that card, Neonero. I'm sure that card will give you a decent run over on the Madness side of things. By the way, who's your competition over there?


No-- Please, please, please don't answer that question.


What would John Madison have to do to make you happy, Neonero? Seriously, let's go back on this subject of you wanting to see the old John Madison back. What the fuck was your point in that statement exactly? Was there one, or were you just trying to make yourself look relevant by having John Madison featured somewhere in your promo? Because I've yet to see a sliver of valid evidence to support your little claim.


You want to see John Madison carry the United States Title? Fuck no, just look at Mark Flynn as an example for what goes wrong when you become the ruler of a deserted island. He's bored and he's starving for competition. Not only that but Warfare, along with Madness, seems to be weighed down by networks and their censorship. No thank you. I want the viewers at home to see my penis in High Definition. I want them to see the blood flying into the screen when I put the guillotine to work. Holy shit, those two things I just mentioned alone sound better than anything Neonero has done. Maybe if you win that European Title, you can just put a monitor on the face plate that shows what John Madison did on Saturday Shove it! Maybe then people would tune in to see Neonero walk down the aisle with a belt on. Maybe you can even throw a few of my old clips on there that you seem to have a boner for.


Shove It! Saturday; my pride and joy. And now you could argue; why hasn't John Madison won the big won for Shove-It?


Oh I don't know, Neonero. I guess the thought of carrying around the North Korean Title bores me. I'd rather just go around, piss people off, and step on all the cockroaches that Shane brings in. I'm in the business of having fun and causing violence, and I'm pretty damn good at it. Shove-It! is a lot of fun, trust me. Hey, you should come right on over and join us on the flagship show. On second thought, you probably couldn't stomach the shit we do on Saturday nights though. You just go ahead and stay over on Madness with Martin O'Connor where it's safe. You seemed pretty upset when you had to muster up the courage to talk about


I'm having the time of my life on Shove-It! Is the North Korean Title there? Yeah, I guess it is. I think I'll pass on it though and settle for cutting of heads and winnng King of the XWF. That's my kind of shit.


Oh, you expected people to make fun of you for your brilliant "GG NORE" gimmick? Yes, of course you did, silly me. Maybe I'll walk around and say "LOL NT TTYL!" But wait, because I realize how stupid it sounds, that automatically grants immunity to my idea being a ball of shit. Neonero logic there, folks.


Hey Neonero, in the future let's just skip the back and forth trash talk. Honestly, it's uninspiring to listen to a man who's never mattered try to sound like he matters. Give me one moment. Just ONE MOMENT where anyone gave a shit Neonero.


You beat Mark Flynn? No one gave a shit.


You carried the US Title for a couple of weeks? No one gave a shit.


You disappeared when you couldn't hack it anymore? No one gave a shit.


You're back? No one gives a shit.


When you leave again-- No one will give a shit.


Congratulations, you're sandwiched between the US Title which hasn't had a decent contender since who-knows-fucking-when, and the UFO-Who-Gives-A-Fuck Match. You won't restore dignity to the European Title, you'll just be the mediocre champion that it needs. A champion that no one cares about. Titles are a thing of the past, Neonero. "GG NORE" was never even a thing. People want to see heads fly off, literally. But you go ahead and keep carrying around that fossil and see how far it takes you.


While you're on filler duty (in both the Gauntlet and the card itself), I'll be winning a match which consists of actual, main event caliber competition. Hell, they even brought in CM Punk for the occasion. CM Punk; a guy who held a World Championship for four hundred something days. Jeff Hardy? Well, his best moment was stumbling out to the ring to get dropped on the mat by Sting. Yeah. The point is, they're bringing out all the stops for John Madison's matches. Neoneros-- not so much. You'll fill up ten minutes of air time and then everyone will move on to the next big thing.


In your eyes: I've done nothing. I've achieved nothing. Is that in a song too, Neonero? Fuck me!


I'm still higher up on the card than you. No, I'm not trying to turn this into some cock measuring contest (I think I got "cock measuring contest" from a movie), I'm simply throwing facts in your gook face since you seem to have it in your head that I've fallen into obscurity since War Games. Oh look, I resorted to racism, you can spend five minutes talk about that now. That's like a must hit point for any Neonero promo. Talk about my alliance with Nazis too because no one has ever hit on that before, right? Have fun with it. It doesn't matter what I do. I still garner more attention than you and any belt that you end up holding, and any half ass catchphrase that you manage to throw together. People want to see John Madison destroy everything in his path, including Neonero. I cut heads off, I piss on people, and I fuck corpses. You win shitty titles, lose them a couple of weeks later, and then leave with an ache in your butt.


But I'm glad that you're back to what you're doing, Neonero. Like I've said before; history will repeat itself this Sunday.


You'll win the European Title, and they will all stand up and pretend to give a fuck like they did the first time. You'll probably get burned out in another month and fade into obscurity again. That's your story-- that will always be your story.


Meanwhile, I'll be adding two more multi-contestant matches under my belt. I'll do "nothing" (as you like to infer) for two more months, and then I'll win whatever the next big thing is.


Dissect my words all you want, Neonero. The fact is; the old John Madison never left and you don't have a clue what you're talking about. You went to Gamestop? Oh, I'm laughing so hard at that; I think it might be the most interesting thing you've done in your entire career. That's what idiots like you would call "LMFAO," right?


I don't even know why I'm wasting my time here. You drew number six, and we both know you'll only make it past MacBeth and maybe CM Punk before you fail and walk home with that little participation trophy you call the European Title. What happens after you're done lying down for Donathan? Does Donathan get a "RE?" Hmm, it might be time to take your attention off of little old me, buddy! Why are we even bothering with this pointless discussion which started off with you fantasizing about "old John Madison." What's the point when we both know that you don't stand a chance in this Gauntlet. You won't even come close to whatever number I draw. Go bug someone else. Tell Mister Mystery how fucked he is or something. I think Macbeth is bored, tell him how much of a world of pain he's going to be in. Who else can you bother, let's see... Oh, there's your future challenger Martin O'Connor, he looks like a lot of fun!


Or just keep gunning for me; it doesn't make a difference. As long as you're having fun talking, then I'm having fun talking too. Maybe I'll find some more Fred Durst lyrics to hit you with since that seems to bring out your artsy side. Would you like that?


You won't make it this Sunday. You'll have to settle for that European strap again. Congratulations on that by the way; you should be so proud.


After Sunday, I doubt we'll ever see each other again seeing as how you'll probably settle for a convenient Eurotrash (Oh boy, there's the subject of your next five minute rant! I should go back and edit over that with just "European" in order to save Neonero's viewers from the rant of a lifetime.) Title reign on Mediocrity Monday.


So Neonero, I only have a couple of things left to say to you and all of your future performances in the XWF. And I think you'll appreciate the amount of European Champion-level creativity I put into this.



"LOL!"


"NT!"


"TTYL!"


Bye-bye, Nero. It was all fun!]]> <![CDATA[Burying the Past, One Motherfucker at a Time (RP 2)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1914 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 06:59:43 -0700 #MemeQueen Luca Torchwick]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1914 Act 4: Is That So, Mr. St. Michael?
The Luca Arzegotti Foundation's Former HQ

12:55 PM

March 24, 2013

Luca advances on the now backpedaling man who was standing behind him mere moments. The face of this man Luca once called a friend is now plagued with a distraught demeanor. Drops of sweat falling from his brow down to the floor, making an audible splash that cuts through the painful silence in the room.

Bumping hard into the back wall of the dust covered office, Kyle realizes he has nowhere left to go and sighs. As Luca slowly draws near, the distraught and alarmed man with his back pressed against a dusty wall begins to stammer in an attempt to calm down the man he's sure will kill him.

"L-l-l-l-look Luca, I don't know what you're thinking, b-b-b-but-"

One punch from the enraged man drops Kyle right down on his knees.

"I didn't have nothing to do with it!"

Another punch.

"Is that so, Mr. St. Michael?"

Sweat runs down Kyle's face at an even faster rate than before.

"H-h-h-h-h-hey man, don't be like that. All, Mr. St. Michael and shit like that. We're still cool man..."

Luca's hand grabs Kyle around the throat and squeezes hard. The man being choked's eyes look near to bulging out of his eye sockets due to the pressure.

"No fucking way. We aren't cool, you piece of shit!"

The only noises that escape Kyle's mouth are choked gurgles and coughs. Luca's free hand curls itself into a fist and he drives it forcefully into the choking man's temple. Upon impact, it immediately uncurls and grabs him by the sweat drenched forehead and pulls Kyle's head closer to the face of the man who's going to kill him before the day is over.

"Now, you are going to tell me who killed them. Start talking, I don't have all day."

Luca's grip on his uninvited guest's throat loosens, allowing him to speak somewhat.

"Heiman."

A slap from the hand that was just choking him.

"No fucking shit, I want to know who he sent."

Mixed with the sweat that now drenches his entire body are tears as Kyle responds.

"You-You're looking at him, Luca."

With a cold smirk on his face, Luca pulls himself away from the man he was interrogating. Fumbling through the drawer of one of the desks in the office, he pulls out a special surprise for the killer of his friends.

"Kyle St. Michael, you have been found guilty of two counts of fucking with the wrong guy. As resident Judge and Jury, I sentence you death. Can you guess who the Executioner is?"

He cocks the surprise.

Aims the barrel at the guilty party's head.

Lets out a cold snicker.

Finally, he pulls the trigger. About 5 times.

Blood splashes all over the back wall. Kyle's body slumps over, more blood pouring from the holes in his skull.

One dead.

The satisfied young man pulls out the now deceased Kyle's cell phone and snaps a picture of the still recognizable face that once belonged to his friend. He searches the phone's contacts for the man he wants to see this picture.

Jeffery Heiman.

He finds the motherfucker's name and sends him the picture along with the message:

"Killing off the Arzegotti camp faster than you, Heiman. Pick up the pace.
-P"

That ought to keep him off my back for a while...

Act 5: Covering the Tracks

The Luca Arzegotti Foundation's Former HQ

1:20 PM

March 24, 2013

Stepping on the blood soaked body of the man whose life he ended just moments before, Luca makes his way to the closet of the office. Opening the wooden door to more creaking from the old rusted hinges of just about every door in this damned warehouse, he sees exactly what he was hoping would still be there.

A canister of gasoline and a box of matches.

Pulling the canister out of the closet, what he sees behind it shocks him. Three more canisters in a single file line! Sickly, he pulls the others from the closet along with the matches and he closes the door.

Pouring the first cannister's contents all over the floor of the office of this abandoned warehouse, Luca makes a point of drenching Kyle's body already soaked body in the flammable substance.

After he feels the whole floor has been soaked thoroughly in gasoline, he steps fast near the door, one gasoline canister and the box of matches in hand. Pulling the first match from the box, he strikes it to the course edge of the box. A flame appears on the match, and he lays the match to the gasoline soaked floor and darts out the door of the office, shutting the door in front of him. Looking at the window that looks in to the office mere seconds after laying the match to the ground he sees the room already ablaze, like a forest fire decided to touch down in the middle of the damn place.

Removing the nozzle from the second canister, Luca dumps out the entirety of it down the wooden stairs. Instead of stepping down the now gleaming stairs, the arsonist opts to slide down the rusted metal handrail.

Hitting the floor at the bottom of the stairwell, Luca feels surprised that the rail was able to hold him up from the top to the bottom.

The windows looking into the office get blown out, fire spewing from the now open holes in the office's walls. He pulls out one more match and strikes it to the course edge, sparking another flame. He drops it at the base of the stairs, engulfing them immediately in flames.

Smiling, he pushes open the door to the warehouse. The flames inside are exposed to the outside for just a few seconds before the door shuts and the young man responsible steps out of the building. He walks to his car, starts up the engine, and drives away...

Act 6: Words, Words, Words

"Fuck, another non-factor decided to insert his worthless ass into the middle of a match between myself and Angelus. Like Johnny Black before him, Shocker as he's called comes in half cocked and claims that he's the important one, the one for everyone to watch out for.

Listen here, Shockler.

'But Luca, it's Shocker! How dare you get my name wrong?! I'm so offended!'

Shut up Shockler, you're going to have a shorter lifespan in this company than Lexi Sheckler. If you have to ask who Lexi Sheckler is, you know nothing of the history of this federation. Therefore you have no claim to any of your bloated, generic insults that have as much of an inflated sense of self worth as you do.

Egomania isn't a good color for you, Shocker.

In fact, let's go back to your generic insults for a minute.

Saying I look like a famous actor that women go crazy for. I don't know the guy's name like you, I prefer to not have my mind raped by shitty cinema. Yet what you fail to understand is there's something wrong with these idiotic, half brained insults. Thanks for the accidental compliment, shithead.

Ooh, look who can do some digging in someone's personal life. Yes, I've lost people close to me. Who the hell cares? This is our brand of new guys, ladies and gents. People who take the nearest headline that has anything that relates to their opponents and uses it as ammunition. All I see from that comment is that even in death, my friends are more important than you ever will be.

Things aren't going well for you, are they?

Too depressed to be taken seriously? The only thing depressing me right now is that you think that was a good insult! Fuck me, this wanker's even stupider than Johnny Black, Mr. Madison's slave for an indefinite period of time.

Like forever.

Skipping the weakest link crack, as it's obvious even in my weakest hour I'm stronger than you are.

A win over an overrated wrestler? This guy doesn't even know modern XWF history! I advise you go check out Shove It Wildly's main event. It's more important than you ever will be, so you go on daydreaming about the day you're thrown in there just to be the first fall guy. I can't even take you seriously anymore.

That however, is implying I ever took you seriously.

He then goes on with a rather idiotic spiel about my hormones or something or another, but who cares?

You know what'll be a Shocker, guy?

It'll be a Shocker if you can walk after this match, let alone compete in the gauntlet.

That's right, even your moronic name backfires on you when you deal with opponents who are this far out of your league.

John Black is a nonfactor, but is that really a surprise?

...And Angelus, who hasn't said anything at all regarding me. He's said stuff about Johnny Black, and nothing on Shocker because nothing needs to be said about that shithead.

Angelus, who was once in the Black Circle. He got kicked out and attacked by Lexi Sheckler, the now deceased cum dumpster of the Black Circle.

How special is this guy, am I right?

Now now Angelus, you did manage to steal Mark Flynn's belt from him. You didn't win the title by any stretch of the imagination, not even by cheating. What you did was take the belt and leave.

Cool fucking story, bro.

Come our match, I'll steal your title by beating you and then robbing you of it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Remember Angelus, even as the least favored member of the Black Circle in regards to the others I'm still more favored than anyone in this match...

...But being that you're the only factorable opponent in this match, you're the only one who needs to worry about that.

Moving on from one victory, to the possibility of another...

The Gauntlet City main event.

My number is not yet known, and I honestly don't really care which number I get.

I'll go out there and decimate people.

Left, right, and center."]]> Act 4: Is That So, Mr. St. Michael?
The Luca Arzegotti Foundation's Former HQ

12:55 PM

March 24, 2013

Luca advances on the now backpedaling man who was standing behind him mere moments. The face of this man Luca once called a friend is now plagued with a distraught demeanor. Drops of sweat falling from his brow down to the floor, making an audible splash that cuts through the painful silence in the room.

Bumping hard into the back wall of the dust covered office, Kyle realizes he has nowhere left to go and sighs. As Luca slowly draws near, the distraught and alarmed man with his back pressed against a dusty wall begins to stammer in an attempt to calm down the man he's sure will kill him.

"L-l-l-l-look Luca, I don't know what you're thinking, b-b-b-but-"

One punch from the enraged man drops Kyle right down on his knees.

"I didn't have nothing to do with it!"

Another punch.

"Is that so, Mr. St. Michael?"

Sweat runs down Kyle's face at an even faster rate than before.

"H-h-h-h-h-hey man, don't be like that. All, Mr. St. Michael and shit like that. We're still cool man..."

Luca's hand grabs Kyle around the throat and squeezes hard. The man being choked's eyes look near to bulging out of his eye sockets due to the pressure.

"No fucking way. We aren't cool, you piece of shit!"

The only noises that escape Kyle's mouth are choked gurgles and coughs. Luca's free hand curls itself into a fist and he drives it forcefully into the choking man's temple. Upon impact, it immediately uncurls and grabs him by the sweat drenched forehead and pulls Kyle's head closer to the face of the man who's going to kill him before the day is over.

"Now, you are going to tell me who killed them. Start talking, I don't have all day."

Luca's grip on his uninvited guest's throat loosens, allowing him to speak somewhat.

"Heiman."

A slap from the hand that was just choking him.

"No fucking shit, I want to know who he sent."

Mixed with the sweat that now drenches his entire body are tears as Kyle responds.

"You-You're looking at him, Luca."

With a cold smirk on his face, Luca pulls himself away from the man he was interrogating. Fumbling through the drawer of one of the desks in the office, he pulls out a special surprise for the killer of his friends.

"Kyle St. Michael, you have been found guilty of two counts of fucking with the wrong guy. As resident Judge and Jury, I sentence you death. Can you guess who the Executioner is?"

He cocks the surprise.

Aims the barrel at the guilty party's head.

Lets out a cold snicker.

Finally, he pulls the trigger. About 5 times.

Blood splashes all over the back wall. Kyle's body slumps over, more blood pouring from the holes in his skull.

One dead.

The satisfied young man pulls out the now deceased Kyle's cell phone and snaps a picture of the still recognizable face that once belonged to his friend. He searches the phone's contacts for the man he wants to see this picture.

Jeffery Heiman.

He finds the motherfucker's name and sends him the picture along with the message:

"Killing off the Arzegotti camp faster than you, Heiman. Pick up the pace.
-P"

That ought to keep him off my back for a while...

Act 5: Covering the Tracks

The Luca Arzegotti Foundation's Former HQ

1:20 PM

March 24, 2013

Stepping on the blood soaked body of the man whose life he ended just moments before, Luca makes his way to the closet of the office. Opening the wooden door to more creaking from the old rusted hinges of just about every door in this damned warehouse, he sees exactly what he was hoping would still be there.

A canister of gasoline and a box of matches.

Pulling the canister out of the closet, what he sees behind it shocks him. Three more canisters in a single file line! Sickly, he pulls the others from the closet along with the matches and he closes the door.

Pouring the first cannister's contents all over the floor of the office of this abandoned warehouse, Luca makes a point of drenching Kyle's body already soaked body in the flammable substance.

After he feels the whole floor has been soaked thoroughly in gasoline, he steps fast near the door, one gasoline canister and the box of matches in hand. Pulling the first match from the box, he strikes it to the course edge of the box. A flame appears on the match, and he lays the match to the gasoline soaked floor and darts out the door of the office, shutting the door in front of him. Looking at the window that looks in to the office mere seconds after laying the match to the ground he sees the room already ablaze, like a forest fire decided to touch down in the middle of the damn place.

Removing the nozzle from the second canister, Luca dumps out the entirety of it down the wooden stairs. Instead of stepping down the now gleaming stairs, the arsonist opts to slide down the rusted metal handrail.

Hitting the floor at the bottom of the stairwell, Luca feels surprised that the rail was able to hold him up from the top to the bottom.

The windows looking into the office get blown out, fire spewing from the now open holes in the office's walls. He pulls out one more match and strikes it to the course edge, sparking another flame. He drops it at the base of the stairs, engulfing them immediately in flames.

Smiling, he pushes open the door to the warehouse. The flames inside are exposed to the outside for just a few seconds before the door shuts and the young man responsible steps out of the building. He walks to his car, starts up the engine, and drives away...

Act 6: Words, Words, Words

"Fuck, another non-factor decided to insert his worthless ass into the middle of a match between myself and Angelus. Like Johnny Black before him, Shocker as he's called comes in half cocked and claims that he's the important one, the one for everyone to watch out for.

Listen here, Shockler.

'But Luca, it's Shocker! How dare you get my name wrong?! I'm so offended!'

Shut up Shockler, you're going to have a shorter lifespan in this company than Lexi Sheckler. If you have to ask who Lexi Sheckler is, you know nothing of the history of this federation. Therefore you have no claim to any of your bloated, generic insults that have as much of an inflated sense of self worth as you do.

Egomania isn't a good color for you, Shocker.

In fact, let's go back to your generic insults for a minute.

Saying I look like a famous actor that women go crazy for. I don't know the guy's name like you, I prefer to not have my mind raped by shitty cinema. Yet what you fail to understand is there's something wrong with these idiotic, half brained insults. Thanks for the accidental compliment, shithead.

Ooh, look who can do some digging in someone's personal life. Yes, I've lost people close to me. Who the hell cares? This is our brand of new guys, ladies and gents. People who take the nearest headline that has anything that relates to their opponents and uses it as ammunition. All I see from that comment is that even in death, my friends are more important than you ever will be.

Things aren't going well for you, are they?

Too depressed to be taken seriously? The only thing depressing me right now is that you think that was a good insult! Fuck me, this wanker's even stupider than Johnny Black, Mr. Madison's slave for an indefinite period of time.

Like forever.

Skipping the weakest link crack, as it's obvious even in my weakest hour I'm stronger than you are.

A win over an overrated wrestler? This guy doesn't even know modern XWF history! I advise you go check out Shove It Wildly's main event. It's more important than you ever will be, so you go on daydreaming about the day you're thrown in there just to be the first fall guy. I can't even take you seriously anymore.

That however, is implying I ever took you seriously.

He then goes on with a rather idiotic spiel about my hormones or something or another, but who cares?

You know what'll be a Shocker, guy?

It'll be a Shocker if you can walk after this match, let alone compete in the gauntlet.

That's right, even your moronic name backfires on you when you deal with opponents who are this far out of your league.

John Black is a nonfactor, but is that really a surprise?

...And Angelus, who hasn't said anything at all regarding me. He's said stuff about Johnny Black, and nothing on Shocker because nothing needs to be said about that shithead.

Angelus, who was once in the Black Circle. He got kicked out and attacked by Lexi Sheckler, the now deceased cum dumpster of the Black Circle.

How special is this guy, am I right?

Now now Angelus, you did manage to steal Mark Flynn's belt from him. You didn't win the title by any stretch of the imagination, not even by cheating. What you did was take the belt and leave.

Cool fucking story, bro.

Come our match, I'll steal your title by beating you and then robbing you of it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Remember Angelus, even as the least favored member of the Black Circle in regards to the others I'm still more favored than anyone in this match...

...But being that you're the only factorable opponent in this match, you're the only one who needs to worry about that.

Moving on from one victory, to the possibility of another...

The Gauntlet City main event.

My number is not yet known, and I honestly don't really care which number I get.

I'll go out there and decimate people.

Left, right, and center."]]> <![CDATA[I'm Here! (RP 1-Gauntlet City PPV)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1932 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 05:56:24 -0700 Swift Ion]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1932
Swift Ion: "I like it here. I think I need a title shot here. I know I haven't been here long. XWF Universe. Picture me as the 24/7 Champion, European Champion, or even the World Champion. I think I can do it. Actually, I know I can do it."

*Swift Ion starts walking away and stops at a Vending Machine*

Swift Ion: "You see, I came here to do 3 things.*

*Swift Ion pushes the button on the Vending Machine and grabs his Soda, then opens it*

Swift Ion: "First, I'm here to win any match and any championship. Second of all, I'm here to entertain you XWF fans. Last, I'm here to do things you have never seen before. XWF is the place dreams come true or dreams get crushed. So get ready XWF Universe. Tomorrow on Monday Madness, its the beginning of the Ion Era. Have fun with the Pay-Per-View."

*Swift Ion starts walking down the hallway, leaving the cameras sight*]]>
Swift Ion: "I like it here. I think I need a title shot here. I know I haven't been here long. XWF Universe. Picture me as the 24/7 Champion, European Champion, or even the World Champion. I think I can do it. Actually, I know I can do it."

*Swift Ion starts walking away and stops at a Vending Machine*

Swift Ion: "You see, I came here to do 3 things.*

*Swift Ion pushes the button on the Vending Machine and grabs his Soda, then opens it*

Swift Ion: "First, I'm here to win any match and any championship. Second of all, I'm here to entertain you XWF fans. Last, I'm here to do things you have never seen before. XWF is the place dreams come true or dreams get crushed. So get ready XWF Universe. Tomorrow on Monday Madness, its the beginning of the Ion Era. Have fun with the Pay-Per-View."

*Swift Ion starts walking down the hallway, leaving the cameras sight*]]> <![CDATA[Back in The Void]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1931 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 03:58:41 -0700 Unknown Soldier]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1931
"The divine is God's concern; the human, man's. My concern is neither the divine nor the human, not the true, good, just, free, etc., but solely what is mine, and it is not a general one, but is -- unique, as I am unique. Nothing is more to me than myself!"
-- Max Stirner

"The powers of my master. What once was yours. Will soon be mine!"
-- The voices of The Void

----

The snow.

It's deep and thick and clouds your sight and judgements as you drift further into a state of elated and tittivating sleep. Your mind drifting and separating itself from body and soul. As a soul you can see your own body hovering beneath your feet as you drift off into the clouds of snow and space. As you look down at yourself, buried in the snow, you can't help but notice the enormous smile that has crossed your face. It's crooked and delusional like something out of a children's book. Something that you most certainly did not expect to see. Is it really you? Or is it some possessed version that has now consumed your body since you left? You won't have much time to debate as you see it slowly becoming smaller and smaller, until your only vision is the falling of pure white snow encompassing every direction you turn your head. No matter how dangerous or frightening this may seem, it has all faded somehow from your thoughts by the look on your face as you drifted away from it. You must have at least felt happy in the short time before this took place. Are you dead? Is this real? All answers that you may be trying to retrieve as the surroundings you've fallen witness to are circulating throughout your mind, which eventually leads to finding a way to cope with the situation. As an attempt to calm your own nerves, you cross your legs and float on an imaginary flying carpet.

The alleviation of stress suddenly takes over as you bring your threshold point back down again and it is now euphoria that fills your lungs with deep breaths. The taste of snow and cold air flies through past your gums and lips and leaves for a refreshing drink of water as it melts the instant it touches the roof of your mouth.

Faster...

Faster...

The wind and snow flashes past your face as you begin picking up speed until you arrive upon what appears to be a giant flowing waterfall of pure emasculate wonder. Suddenly, you are brought to a stop as you take in the gorgeous scene taking place in front of you. The Grand Canyon of waterfalls is dropping tons upon tons of water in a giant circle around you. The view over the waterfall is miles and miles of dense snowfall that billows and meshes in with the water. It's like staring down an endless tunnel that is white instead of black. Ice caps float above the water on the crest of the waterfall as thin layer of icicles that hang over the lip before the free flowing water travels over them and splashes into some unknown source underneath you. Strangely enough that even with this massive amount of free flowing water you are unable to hear a sound. This is the first time you've realized this throughout this entire escapade... Monotonous sounds of an eerie nothingness have been all that has echoed between your eardrums and brain in this brief stint since you departed soul from body.

What was that?

From off into the miles and miles of nothing but snow, reflects a shimmer of light off an icicle dangling off the waterfall's edge. This light slowly grows in size and develops structure as it approaches you rather quickly. You know you should fear it, but somewhere deep inside you from a place you never knew or thought existed you are comforted enough to accept it. The light turns into a star, which then develops into a shape and a body structure. It stops abruptly and watches you from a distance. Taking the time to hold back that fear you stare back into it's impenetrable eyes.

Who or what is this intruder in your dream world? Why did they pick the worst time to come in and spoil your fun? Somehow, you can feel the intruder sniffing and breathing on you although he still stands close to 300 yards away. Is he testing you? Is he....

A whisper is heard and it is the first thing you've heard since the start of your venture, and now it's meandering through your brain. The sound is still inaudible by ear, but voices in your head proclaim....

VASSAGO....

Like the slither of a snake or something heard from Lord Voldemort's voice vibrates through your thoughts.

It happens again...

VASSAGO....

You can think of nothing else to do or say but repeat back the same words you just heard. The figure approaches and reveals itself to you..


VASSAGO: "Are you the servant I've summoned from the spiritual world to do my bidding?"

You have no answer. Your breath is lost now in fear and anxiety that has overcome you by the prescience of this man or creature.

VASSAGO: "Easy now, your in a world of wonder and delight known as The Void. No need to get upset for I do not aim to harm although it may appear that way. I am the voices of the Void brought you here to complete for me a task. The Void is a place that never existed and where reality can escape itself from the world you live in and the fiery pits of hell where my master rules. In this world we are protected from his oppressive rule over his mighty kingdom. In a place where I can hide and avoid his overzealous rule with an iron fist, because his pet knows the location of the ancient artifact of immense evil and power. It is the object of both mine and should be your desires. The perfect place to plot his demise is within the world between yours and mine known as The Void. Meeting in between the two realms like this gives us the only opportunity for open communication and protection from my master. The perfect middle ground"

VASSAGO: "I reign from the fiery pits of hell and serve in that realm as their prince. My legion of 26 feeds off my ability to change the past, perfect the present, and adjust the future. My legion considers me the only demon in our Reich to have any 'good' nature and that's why I've brought you here today. The rest of our worlds would shun and shame us for our plot attempts. I have summoned you for a specific reason. I need that artifact. In order to overthrow my master and prevent him from rising to power you must get that artifact."

VASSAGO: "It is a silver necklace with an inverted pentagram insignia locked between the chain. The evil wants to return to my master through his soldier. The one they call Dante Kyllen."

VASSAGO: "You must retrieve the necklace before the last day of Pentecost before there's no hope for you or me. The demon soldier will destroy you in your XWF quests if you do not bring me that artifact!"

VASSAGO: "Just as your world aims to crown a new King...

...so too does mine?"

VASSAGO: "Together we can achieve that task with the power of the ancient artifact. The power must NEVER be given back to it's rightful owner and so therefore; we will both become the most powerful Kings of our worlds!"

His final word echoes through the back of your head which now begins to thump and throb like a massive migraine. Shooting through space and time as things go flying past your face at an enormous rate. So fast that you really can't make anything of them. The wind flies past your hair and face so fast..

Faster...

Faster...

Faster...


The white turns to darkness and you are met with a huge.







BAM!









BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The alarm clock next to your bed pulls you from your slumber as you jump to your feet the instant your body is granted movement again. Standing above your bed with your bare feet on the solid wood floor you look down upon your bed to a torn pillowcase and a mound of feathers.

It was only a dream.

A sigh of relief comes over you until you realize the symbol carved into the side of your dresser.

That's when the fear once again overtakes you with goosebumps coupled with the hair on the back of your neck sticking up on it's ends.

This was no dream.

[Image: 003-seal-of-vassago-q100-500x511.jpg]
]]>
"The divine is God's concern; the human, man's. My concern is neither the divine nor the human, not the true, good, just, free, etc., but solely what is mine, and it is not a general one, but is -- unique, as I am unique. Nothing is more to me than myself!"
-- Max Stirner

"The powers of my master. What once was yours. Will soon be mine!"
-- The voices of The Void

----

The snow.

It's deep and thick and clouds your sight and judgements as you drift further into a state of elated and tittivating sleep. Your mind drifting and separating itself from body and soul. As a soul you can see your own body hovering beneath your feet as you drift off into the clouds of snow and space. As you look down at yourself, buried in the snow, you can't help but notice the enormous smile that has crossed your face. It's crooked and delusional like something out of a children's book. Something that you most certainly did not expect to see. Is it really you? Or is it some possessed version that has now consumed your body since you left? You won't have much time to debate as you see it slowly becoming smaller and smaller, until your only vision is the falling of pure white snow encompassing every direction you turn your head. No matter how dangerous or frightening this may seem, it has all faded somehow from your thoughts by the look on your face as you drifted away from it. You must have at least felt happy in the short time before this took place. Are you dead? Is this real? All answers that you may be trying to retrieve as the surroundings you've fallen witness to are circulating throughout your mind, which eventually leads to finding a way to cope with the situation. As an attempt to calm your own nerves, you cross your legs and float on an imaginary flying carpet.

The alleviation of stress suddenly takes over as you bring your threshold point back down again and it is now euphoria that fills your lungs with deep breaths. The taste of snow and cold air flies through past your gums and lips and leaves for a refreshing drink of water as it melts the instant it touches the roof of your mouth.

Faster...

Faster...

The wind and snow flashes past your face as you begin picking up speed until you arrive upon what appears to be a giant flowing waterfall of pure emasculate wonder. Suddenly, you are brought to a stop as you take in the gorgeous scene taking place in front of you. The Grand Canyon of waterfalls is dropping tons upon tons of water in a giant circle around you. The view over the waterfall is miles and miles of dense snowfall that billows and meshes in with the water. It's like staring down an endless tunnel that is white instead of black. Ice caps float above the water on the crest of the waterfall as thin layer of icicles that hang over the lip before the free flowing water travels over them and splashes into some unknown source underneath you. Strangely enough that even with this massive amount of free flowing water you are unable to hear a sound. This is the first time you've realized this throughout this entire escapade... Monotonous sounds of an eerie nothingness have been all that has echoed between your eardrums and brain in this brief stint since you departed soul from body.

What was that?

From off into the miles and miles of nothing but snow, reflects a shimmer of light off an icicle dangling off the waterfall's edge. This light slowly grows in size and develops structure as it approaches you rather quickly. You know you should fear it, but somewhere deep inside you from a place you never knew or thought existed you are comforted enough to accept it. The light turns into a star, which then develops into a shape and a body structure. It stops abruptly and watches you from a distance. Taking the time to hold back that fear you stare back into it's impenetrable eyes.

Who or what is this intruder in your dream world? Why did they pick the worst time to come in and spoil your fun? Somehow, you can feel the intruder sniffing and breathing on you although he still stands close to 300 yards away. Is he testing you? Is he....

A whisper is heard and it is the first thing you've heard since the start of your venture, and now it's meandering through your brain. The sound is still inaudible by ear, but voices in your head proclaim....

VASSAGO....

Like the slither of a snake or something heard from Lord Voldemort's voice vibrates through your thoughts.

It happens again...

VASSAGO....

You can think of nothing else to do or say but repeat back the same words you just heard. The figure approaches and reveals itself to you..


VASSAGO: "Are you the servant I've summoned from the spiritual world to do my bidding?"

You have no answer. Your breath is lost now in fear and anxiety that has overcome you by the prescience of this man or creature.

VASSAGO: "Easy now, your in a world of wonder and delight known as The Void. No need to get upset for I do not aim to harm although it may appear that way. I am the voices of the Void brought you here to complete for me a task. The Void is a place that never existed and where reality can escape itself from the world you live in and the fiery pits of hell where my master rules. In this world we are protected from his oppressive rule over his mighty kingdom. In a place where I can hide and avoid his overzealous rule with an iron fist, because his pet knows the location of the ancient artifact of immense evil and power. It is the object of both mine and should be your desires. The perfect place to plot his demise is within the world between yours and mine known as The Void. Meeting in between the two realms like this gives us the only opportunity for open communication and protection from my master. The perfect middle ground"

VASSAGO: "I reign from the fiery pits of hell and serve in that realm as their prince. My legion of 26 feeds off my ability to change the past, perfect the present, and adjust the future. My legion considers me the only demon in our Reich to have any 'good' nature and that's why I've brought you here today. The rest of our worlds would shun and shame us for our plot attempts. I have summoned you for a specific reason. I need that artifact. In order to overthrow my master and prevent him from rising to power you must get that artifact."

VASSAGO: "It is a silver necklace with an inverted pentagram insignia locked between the chain. The evil wants to return to my master through his soldier. The one they call Dante Kyllen."

VASSAGO: "You must retrieve the necklace before the last day of Pentecost before there's no hope for you or me. The demon soldier will destroy you in your XWF quests if you do not bring me that artifact!"

VASSAGO: "Just as your world aims to crown a new King...

...so too does mine?"

VASSAGO: "Together we can achieve that task with the power of the ancient artifact. The power must NEVER be given back to it's rightful owner and so therefore; we will both become the most powerful Kings of our worlds!"

His final word echoes through the back of your head which now begins to thump and throb like a massive migraine. Shooting through space and time as things go flying past your face at an enormous rate. So fast that you really can't make anything of them. The wind flies past your hair and face so fast..

Faster...

Faster...

Faster...


The white turns to darkness and you are met with a huge.







BAM!









BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The alarm clock next to your bed pulls you from your slumber as you jump to your feet the instant your body is granted movement again. Standing above your bed with your bare feet on the solid wood floor you look down upon your bed to a torn pillowcase and a mound of feathers.

It was only a dream.

A sigh of relief comes over you until you realize the symbol carved into the side of your dresser.

That's when the fear once again overtakes you with goosebumps coupled with the hair on the back of your neck sticking up on it's ends.

This was no dream.

[Image: 003-seal-of-vassago-q100-500x511.jpg]
]]> <![CDATA[Faith In The Golden Gilmour -- 2nd to last RP (RP11)]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1929 Sun, 31 Mar 2013 02:11:11 -0700 Mister Mystery 17 31707 1]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=1929






It's been a few days since we got word that Mister Mystery 17 31707 1 has apparently tested positive for anabolic steroids. In an unforeseen event that Mark Flynn would have downplayed as a bad "promo" we had live cameras on the scene at the Feder household when the news came in. Mister Mystery has been told by General Manager Arkin Blackwater that he has one last chance to take a new test and come out clean.

When Mister Mystery originally heard that he tested positive, he lost his mind and destroyed half of the Feder house but was finally able to calm down and come up with a very legit sounding excuse to give General Manager Blackwater. He simply explained-

-it wasn't his piss! Problem solved, right?

Well, not if you're General Manager Blackwater because that only raised more questions.

We later learned that Mister Mystery had a vial of Mr. Satellite's urine, given to him by Donathan several days prior, so that in the event of a drug test he could use Mr. Satellite's urine instead of his own. This was apparently a double safeguard just in case the foreign elements that Donathan was introducing into Mister Mystery's blood stream failed to cloak the steroids that Donathan had been pumping him with while trying to "enlighten" him.

Donathan's plan was for Satellite's urine to be used, which would indeed come back clean, but even if that somehow couldn't happen then the formula Donathan was giving Mystery would surely clense his own natural piss. Wrong!

Instead, we have a case of a confused Mister Mystery making things even worse on himself by forgetting to use the vial, testing positive, and then claiming that he was using another man's sample for the test. Great job, Mister Mystery -- Mark Flynn would be proud of you.

And that's where we're at in this story as our cameras open up on-

DEAR GOD NO -- that's Mister Mystery's penis with a thick stream of golden piss shooting out of it. Why are there so many veins on that thing and why are parts of it sort of blue looking? It's got this unusual swelling to it; not one of arousal but rather like it's been recently irritated or dare I say -- attacked? What the fuck is wrong with that thing?

More importantly what's wrong with any viewer still watching as he finishes urinating into the piss cup and shakes himself off before putting himself away and zipping up? He twists the lid onto the piss cup and turns to the left to see General Manager Blackwater personally standing there waiting for him to finish. Blackwater is calmly looking him in the eye just as casually as he was observing the fluid being released from Mister Mystery's urethra.

:Blackwater:
I certainly hope you're able to pass this test. If not, you're out of the entire Gauntlet City pay per view and suspended for no less than six months before you'll even be given a chance to beg to return to work.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You think I care about work? I'm here to destroy and if I can't do it here, then I'll go to one of those other feds we aren't allowed to talk about and just fuck their shit up for six months.

:Blackwater:
Well that's an interesting response -- so you're basically telling me you're going to fail this test. Good to know.

:MM 17 31707 1:
What? You misunderstood me just like you did on the phone earlier this week.

:Blackwater:
You mean when you told me that it wasn't your urine but instead was urine belonging to Mr. Satellite? Basically confirming that you had a reason to try and avoid having your own urine tested?

:MM 17 31707 1:
Yeah, that. It's not at all what I said.

:Blackwater:
You know I've got that phone call on tape, right? I've also forwarded copies to Shane , Wallace Witasick and Paul Heyman. All the key players who run each show know you tried to blame your dirty test on Mr. Satellite.

Mister Mystery clenches his fists and he punches the wall so hard that the light fixture above them rattles and flickers.

:MM 17 31707 1:
All I've got to say is -- I'm clean and you'll know that as soon as you take a sip from that cup.

General Manager Blackwater is taken aback by that statement as he tries to figure out if Mister Mystery is just being an asshole or actually, legitimately believes that drinking the urine is how they test for steroids. He just shakes his head in dismay as he brings Mister Mystery's cup of urine into the next room.

:Blackwater:
We'll call you with the results. Have a good day, Mr. Feder.

:MM 17 31707 1:
What -- you aren't going to test it in front of me? How do I know you're sipping from the right cup when you test it? I bet that's how you confused mine with somebody else's last time!

There is no response as General Manager Blackwater has already allowed the door to shut behind him after entering the next room. Mister Mystery stands there appearing to be confused on what just happened; he seriously seems to believe something fishy is going on by Blackwater not testing (a.k.a. Sipping) the urine right in front of him.

After the precautionary measures I took to ensure I'd pass this test, I felt robbed when that dickbag walked out of the room with my piss and hadn't even tasted it yet. If I get a phone call telling me that I've tested positive again I'm going to hunt him down and surgically remove his esophagus with that saw Mark Flynn thinks I'm always talking about.

He watched it spray out of my dick hole -- he better not try and pull any shit with me.

I left that encounter feeling nervous but I knew my plan was a sure fire one. Damn, do I feel sore down there -- it was worth it though; there was no way in hell that Peter Gilmour was on steroids.



Several hours prior


We're taken to the site of Mister Mystery's recent warehouse promo where he imitated Mark Flynn and re-shot Flynn's own, similar production. How can this be? Didn't the warehouse explode at the end of the promo, right after Mister Mystery as Mark Flynn clicked his tongue?

Sure; only if you believed it -- you see, much like any promo from Flynn, the dynamite within never seems to cross over into actual reality. It's like listening to Mark Flynn talk about what he can do to Mister Mystery, only to tune in live at the end of the week and watch Flynn be pinned by Mister Mystery in the middle of the ring. The premature bangs and booms don't affect the real world in the slightest bit because they're Flynnthetic explosions.

For those of you unfamiliar with the word Flynnthetic, let's take a peek at its definition-

Flynn·thet·ic [Flin-thet-ik]
adjective
  • not real or genuine; artificial; feigned; fake as shit: you make a Flynnthetic claim to Mark Flynn that he is your favorite wrestler, in hopes of getting an autograph from him that you can sell on ebay for a couple dollars the instant you get to your computer.

Synonyms
  • phony, counterfeit, sham.



So now that you've come to terms with the fact that anything from Mark Flynn -- even a "Flynnthetic" Mark Flynn being played by Mister Mystery -- is in fact an outright heap of horse manure, it's easy to see why this warehouse still stands without a hint of fire damage to any part of it. The spotlight from that promo is still hanging over that steel folding chair and the bottle of Jameson's Irish Whiskey is sitting right beside the chair, about 1/4th full.

Sid Feder walks up toward the chair and picks up the bottle. He examines it as if he's looking at some kind of alien rock that fell from the moon.

:3 x Better:
Who drinks this shit? Why not just drink water if you're thirsty? I've never understood why people have to poison their bodies and minds with such-

clunk -- the sound of Mister Mystery's hand snatching that bottle from Sid is just enough to make Sid roll his eyes and shake his head. He watches as Mister Mystery dumps the last bit of whiskey through the holes of his own hockey mask and into his mouth even though a majority of it spills down the mask and dribbles down his chin and neck onto his ripped up army vest. Once the bottle is completely empty it gets cast aside like a John Madison in a match with actual talented competitors in it -- but in this case that bottle isn't lucky enough to become special guest ref; it merely shatters to pieces much like any secretive dreams John Madison once had that he keeps burying under piles, piles, and more piles of self-depreciating bullshit. All in an effort to make us believe he's in the position he wants to be in when he's stuck and drowning under that thick sheet of ice all the top names easily stand on.

Knock knock knock. It echoes through the entire warehouse like thunder; a knocking that is quick and aggressive.

No, that's not John Madison knocking on the ice and trying to break through to our level. He'd never dare to knock because as long as he doesn't let us know he wants through, he doesn't have to feel as humiliated by the fact that nobody will help him make it.

No, it's not Mark Flynn knocking back another bottle after sobering up and re-realizing that Mister Mystery pinned his ass last weekend. He's figured out by now that no amount of Flynnthetic medicine will wash away the fact that he's found a man he's inferior to in every conceivable way.

That knocking sound? It's coming from that door.

Over there in the corner of the warehouse -- that large, steel door that is locked tight.

Oh, and those screams? That's the woman being held inside of it by Mister Mystery and Sid Feder.

:3 x Better:
I've got nothing to do with the woman locked in that room, narrator. Last time it was Mister Mystery who knocked you out cold; I'll be glad to do it this time if you can't get your facts straight.

I stand corrected -- Sid Feder has nothing to do with the woman being held in that room. It's all Mister Mystery.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You've got that right, and you won't believe the torture she's being put through in that room. No shackles; no ropes; no physical abuse -- well, not yet anyway.

Mister Mystery leads us toward the steel door and when he opens it we can hear the voice of a very familiar sounding man.

There's no mistaking it-





-that's the voice of John Madison! Is he in there with that woman?


-- tobecontinued --

]]>






It's been a few days since we got word that Mister Mystery 17 31707 1 has apparently tested positive for anabolic steroids. In an unforeseen event that Mark Flynn would have downplayed as a bad "promo" we had live cameras on the scene at the Feder household when the news came in. Mister Mystery has been told by General Manager Arkin Blackwater that he has one last chance to take a new test and come out clean.

When Mister Mystery originally heard that he tested positive, he lost his mind and destroyed half of the Feder house but was finally able to calm down and come up with a very legit sounding excuse to give General Manager Blackwater. He simply explained-

-it wasn't his piss! Problem solved, right?

Well, not if you're General Manager Blackwater because that only raised more questions.

We later learned that Mister Mystery had a vial of Mr. Satellite's urine, given to him by Donathan several days prior, so that in the event of a drug test he could use Mr. Satellite's urine instead of his own. This was apparently a double safeguard just in case the foreign elements that Donathan was introducing into Mister Mystery's blood stream failed to cloak the steroids that Donathan had been pumping him with while trying to "enlighten" him.

Donathan's plan was for Satellite's urine to be used, which would indeed come back clean, but even if that somehow couldn't happen then the formula Donathan was giving Mystery would surely clense his own natural piss. Wrong!

Instead, we have a case of a confused Mister Mystery making things even worse on himself by forgetting to use the vial, testing positive, and then claiming that he was using another man's sample for the test. Great job, Mister Mystery -- Mark Flynn would be proud of you.

And that's where we're at in this story as our cameras open up on-

DEAR GOD NO -- that's Mister Mystery's penis with a thick stream of golden piss shooting out of it. Why are there so many veins on that thing and why are parts of it sort of blue looking? It's got this unusual swelling to it; not one of arousal but rather like it's been recently irritated or dare I say -- attacked? What the fuck is wrong with that thing?

More importantly what's wrong with any viewer still watching as he finishes urinating into the piss cup and shakes himself off before putting himself away and zipping up? He twists the lid onto the piss cup and turns to the left to see General Manager Blackwater personally standing there waiting for him to finish. Blackwater is calmly looking him in the eye just as casually as he was observing the fluid being released from Mister Mystery's urethra.

:Blackwater:
I certainly hope you're able to pass this test. If not, you're out of the entire Gauntlet City pay per view and suspended for no less than six months before you'll even be given a chance to beg to return to work.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You think I care about work? I'm here to destroy and if I can't do it here, then I'll go to one of those other feds we aren't allowed to talk about and just fuck their shit up for six months.

:Blackwater:
Well that's an interesting response -- so you're basically telling me you're going to fail this test. Good to know.

:MM 17 31707 1:
What? You misunderstood me just like you did on the phone earlier this week.

:Blackwater:
You mean when you told me that it wasn't your urine but instead was urine belonging to Mr. Satellite? Basically confirming that you had a reason to try and avoid having your own urine tested?

:MM 17 31707 1:
Yeah, that. It's not at all what I said.

:Blackwater:
You know I've got that phone call on tape, right? I've also forwarded copies to Shane , Wallace Witasick and Paul Heyman. All the key players who run each show know you tried to blame your dirty test on Mr. Satellite.

Mister Mystery clenches his fists and he punches the wall so hard that the light fixture above them rattles and flickers.

:MM 17 31707 1:
All I've got to say is -- I'm clean and you'll know that as soon as you take a sip from that cup.

General Manager Blackwater is taken aback by that statement as he tries to figure out if Mister Mystery is just being an asshole or actually, legitimately believes that drinking the urine is how they test for steroids. He just shakes his head in dismay as he brings Mister Mystery's cup of urine into the next room.

:Blackwater:
We'll call you with the results. Have a good day, Mr. Feder.

:MM 17 31707 1:
What -- you aren't going to test it in front of me? How do I know you're sipping from the right cup when you test it? I bet that's how you confused mine with somebody else's last time!

There is no response as General Manager Blackwater has already allowed the door to shut behind him after entering the next room. Mister Mystery stands there appearing to be confused on what just happened; he seriously seems to believe something fishy is going on by Blackwater not testing (a.k.a. Sipping) the urine right in front of him.

After the precautionary measures I took to ensure I'd pass this test, I felt robbed when that dickbag walked out of the room with my piss and hadn't even tasted it yet. If I get a phone call telling me that I've tested positive again I'm going to hunt him down and surgically remove his esophagus with that saw Mark Flynn thinks I'm always talking about.

He watched it spray out of my dick hole -- he better not try and pull any shit with me.

I left that encounter feeling nervous but I knew my plan was a sure fire one. Damn, do I feel sore down there -- it was worth it though; there was no way in hell that Peter Gilmour was on steroids.



Several hours prior


We're taken to the site of Mister Mystery's recent warehouse promo where he imitated Mark Flynn and re-shot Flynn's own, similar production. How can this be? Didn't the warehouse explode at the end of the promo, right after Mister Mystery as Mark Flynn clicked his tongue?

Sure; only if you believed it -- you see, much like any promo from Flynn, the dynamite within never seems to cross over into actual reality. It's like listening to Mark Flynn talk about what he can do to Mister Mystery, only to tune in live at the end of the week and watch Flynn be pinned by Mister Mystery in the middle of the ring. The premature bangs and booms don't affect the real world in the slightest bit because they're Flynnthetic explosions.

For those of you unfamiliar with the word Flynnthetic, let's take a peek at its definition-

Flynn·thet·ic [Flin-thet-ik]
adjective
  • not real or genuine; artificial; feigned; fake as shit: you make a Flynnthetic claim to Mark Flynn that he is your favorite wrestler, in hopes of getting an autograph from him that you can sell on ebay for a couple dollars the instant you get to your computer.

Synonyms
  • phony, counterfeit, sham.



So now that you've come to terms with the fact that anything from Mark Flynn -- even a "Flynnthetic" Mark Flynn being played by Mister Mystery -- is in fact an outright heap of horse manure, it's easy to see why this warehouse still stands without a hint of fire damage to any part of it. The spotlight from that promo is still hanging over that steel folding chair and the bottle of Jameson's Irish Whiskey is sitting right beside the chair, about 1/4th full.

Sid Feder walks up toward the chair and picks up the bottle. He examines it as if he's looking at some kind of alien rock that fell from the moon.

:3 x Better:
Who drinks this shit? Why not just drink water if you're thirsty? I've never understood why people have to poison their bodies and minds with such-

clunk -- the sound of Mister Mystery's hand snatching that bottle from Sid is just enough to make Sid roll his eyes and shake his head. He watches as Mister Mystery dumps the last bit of whiskey through the holes of his own hockey mask and into his mouth even though a majority of it spills down the mask and dribbles down his chin and neck onto his ripped up army vest. Once the bottle is completely empty it gets cast aside like a John Madison in a match with actual talented competitors in it -- but in this case that bottle isn't lucky enough to become special guest ref; it merely shatters to pieces much like any secretive dreams John Madison once had that he keeps burying under piles, piles, and more piles of self-depreciating bullshit. All in an effort to make us believe he's in the position he wants to be in when he's stuck and drowning under that thick sheet of ice all the top names easily stand on.

Knock knock knock. It echoes through the entire warehouse like thunder; a knocking that is quick and aggressive.

No, that's not John Madison knocking on the ice and trying to break through to our level. He'd never dare to knock because as long as he doesn't let us know he wants through, he doesn't have to feel as humiliated by the fact that nobody will help him make it.

No, it's not Mark Flynn knocking back another bottle after sobering up and re-realizing that Mister Mystery pinned his ass last weekend. He's figured out by now that no amount of Flynnthetic medicine will wash away the fact that he's found a man he's inferior to in every conceivable way.

That knocking sound? It's coming from that door.

Over there in the corner of the warehouse -- that large, steel door that is locked tight.

Oh, and those screams? That's the woman being held inside of it by Mister Mystery and Sid Feder.

:3 x Better:
I've got nothing to do with the woman locked in that room, narrator. Last time it was Mister Mystery who knocked you out cold; I'll be glad to do it this time if you can't get your facts straight.

I stand corrected -- Sid Feder has nothing to do with the woman being held in that room. It's all Mister Mystery.

:MM 17 31707 1:
You've got that right, and you won't believe the torture she's being put through in that room. No shackles; no ropes; no physical abuse -- well, not yet anyway.

Mister Mystery leads us toward the steel door and when he opens it we can hear the voice of a very familiar sounding man.

There's no mistaking it-





-that's the voice of John Madison! Is he in there with that woman?


-- tobecontinued --

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