X-treme Wrestling Federation - Lethal Lottery 2 Entire Tourney + PPV RP Archive

And These Final Hours Close

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 11:53:04 -0800

These Final Hours
Part 2

Here we are, interview already well in progress and I've agreed to answer a few questions about Tony Santos for Liz Weinberg.

"Great. I wanted to just quickly touch on a few of Tony's comments from earlier today. I'm not sure if you're aware he aired a promo today that was heavily geared toward you; have you seen that?" Liz waits for my answer as I have trouble justifying a response. There's only one answer I can think of to what Liz just asked me...

"It honestly doesn't matter if I've seen it or not," now turning my eyes back to Liz and squinting just a little as I add, "you do realize that, correct?"

"I see. So you have no response to Tony's claim that you're using 'schoolyard tactics' against him? When you focused on the fact that he responded to you earlier in the week, he took that as a rather petty attack against him." Liz does bring up an interesting point here. I might as well get this over with...

"Well you know something, Liz? He might actually be right." (a gasp from Liz) "After all, I am dealing with a child, am I not? I've got to keep things somewhat simple at all times here. Why would I play a game so advanced that he is incapable of participating with me? How would I beat him then?" I roll my eyes, shaking my head and almost laughing. I'd kill to hear his response to this one as it would likely be quite comedic.

"But more importantly, Liz; do you remember when I made it clear that I knew Tony would address me regardless of my actions or comments? Let's change the setting and replay Tony's accusation here... shall we? Let's say we're in the middle of a match and by me mentioning Tony in my promos, it's comparable to if I struck first in the match. Yes?"

"Alright, go on..."

"So let's say I land that first strike on Tony and send him sailing out of the ring, cracking his head against the ringside barrier and momentarily getting knocked unconscious. This is most likely how the match would begin if he and I were going one on one or were both starting out in a tag match."

"I'm right there with you."

"Now let's say he gets back up eventually, crawls into the ring, and hits me back... but it's one of the weakest strikes that has ever been delivered in a wrestling ring. It literally doesn't even phase me and hardly anyone watching even realizes it was an offensive maneuver because of how pathetic it was delivered. Let's assume it was some kind of backhand chop gone horribly wrong."

"Ok..."

"Now, if I address this situation that just took place in the ring—according to Tony Santos and the train of thought he's shown us—I'd be playing a schoolyard game. Me laughing at his failed attempt to strike me back would be me acting childish. Me not laughing, but pointing out how my initial strike threw him so far off his game that his response was a joke is also me acting childish, however. Hell, Liz, me stepping out of the ring and just walking to the back because I know he needs the win more than I do after a display like that... would be me acting childish."

"Hmmm, I think I see what you're saying."

"It's quite clear if you think about it. Tony is basically attacking my ability to recognize his flawed reactions. It's similar to the way he reacts when I do take the time to address him verbally; to Tony Santos, that's me taking bait."

"Yes he did mention something along those lines. Tony seems to believe you are quite easily baited."

This is where I have to hesitate because I wonder if I'm the only person here who sees the obvious problem. I'm easily baited? Hmmmm... A few seconds pass before I begin, "If Tony Santos were to run up and jab me in my eye in the hallway, I'd make it a point to find myself standing over his unconscious body soon after that encounter. To Tony... that would be me taking the bait... and I guess it's true." I look at Liz as I continue, "If Tony or anyone provokes me, I'm going to take them down and there's no question about that. If John Black decides to slap me across my face tonight, you can bet I'm going to make it a point to deal with him in the very near future..." I lean in and raise my tone just a slight notch as I say, "and if I'd give John Black that attention, what makes Tony Santos think so lowly of himself that he must take exception to me giving him the same treatment? I've gone on record as stating that Tony Santos is miles above the rest of the competition here. I've made it clear that I see him as the man right on my heels, waiting to trip me up if the day ever comes that my senses malfunction. I've made it clear that I see Tony's journey through this tournament as an accomplishment no other could have given us. Nobody else would still be here in the final round if they were met with the same set of circumstances Tony was."

"This is where some people seem to get a little confused. There are times you speak as if Tony couldn't even harm you as much as a roach would be able to do, and then there are other times you speak so highly of him. Aren't you just being sarcastic when you speak highly of him?"

"No, Liz. No. I'm being serious and I'm stating facts that can be researched and confirmed by anyone watching today. Tony Santos really is on another level when compared to the rest of these commoners, but when you compare him to me... it's like comparing a child to a gladiator. Yes, the child had no problem squishing the ants outside when he was playing but it will be a very different result when it's not ants he's stepping on. Tony spent all of September squashing those helpless ants... He was unmatched! October comes around and I walk over Tony Santos without even fully realizing he's one of the top competitors at the time, and I take 'Star of the Month' away from him without even trying. Going by Tony Santos logic, he officially baited me into the spot of becoming Star of the Month. What he fails to realize in all of his 'bait' backwash is that I will always, always take the bait..."

"The only problem is I don't stop there. I keep going... I take every piece of bait I can find and I devour every last man behind it. Any child can buy a bucket of bait and put it to use, and yes there will be results... but those results just might be too much for any child to handle. Perhaps that's why I've spent almost 100% of my XWF career so far overshadowing Tony Santos in everything from Star of the Month, beating him in matches, and winning all the matches he gets teamed with me for. Tony is so loose and flexible to my every whim and whirl, I'm almost afraid to sneeze."

"So in essence, it's correct to say that Tony has at least in some way led you to water... and you drank. That's one way to look at his side of this," says Liz as I can't help but smirk for a second.

"Oh, Liz... don't you see? I've been drinking from Tony Santos since the day I arrived." Liz looks slightly taken aback or disgusted, completely not expecting that answer. "I've been draining River Santos since I discovered this land, Liz. Tony is like a rare, succulent fruit in a desolate wasteland. His natural bait caught my eye from light years away and I've been slowly draining his sustenance to keep him alive as long as possible, but tonight his life source runs dry."

"Wow," Liz checks her watch and realizes more time has passed than she thought. "We're running short on time. I guess you were able to talk a lot more about Tony than you originally intended. It only makes sense considering the journey you two have taken together."

"Yes, I've taken the Santos bait again, Liz..." I remain straight faced. My poor attempt at a joke seems to confuse Liz as she seems unsure of how to respond. I love putting these simple XWF minds into such uncomfortable situations...

But what's this?

Ah, Chuck...

- - - - - D-r-2u - - - - -

Egyptian Snow Pharaoh; may I have your attention, please. Tonight is a very important night for us; all of us. Your role in all of this has been made clear to you and you've been supplied with the required physical and mental tools to complete the tasks required. In the short time I've been in control of you, I've been very pleased with everything you've shown me. The only flaw some might see is the way you can get caught up in a verbal dispute, but I'll go ahead and attribute that to the fact that you're a woman. There's not much we can do about your drive to argue, but as we move forward I'd like you to focus more on performance and less on speaking. There was no need to waste as many words as you did addressing Tony Santos when you've already demonstrated your ability to defeat him. In fact, it hardly even matters that you stole Star of the Month from him, or that you won his tag team matches... those things really don't even apply when we already know you can crush the man.

My advice to you, Pharaoh, is to walk into the ring and take Tony Santos for the piece of living bait he really is. Santos is the bait; NAZI is the arm dangling the bait; the Black Circle is the body behind it all. Swallow that bait whole, bring NAZI down with it, and watch the wounded Black Circle squirm while we bide our time and make them watch their own demise slowly closing in around them.

Most important of all, Pharaoh...

Remember what is to commence in the ring after the defeat of Santos and Nathaniel tonight. This marks the successful end of one quest as we peek around the door toward a much grander deliverance; one that will move universes instead of mountains....

Scott Steiner, Tony Santos, and Dr. Hero are all plebeians

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 11:45:21 -0800

Dr. Hero sat alone in his office, attempting to crack open the artifact he had stolen from Dr. Zero only days prior. The artifact had already proven itself capable of performing numerous functions for Dr. Zero. Mind control, portal summoning to other dimensions, utilizing ancient Nazi superweapons.

Speaking of portals…One opened right over Dr. Hero's head. Dr. Hero expected it, however and quickly opened one of his own right under it. One of Dr. Zero's plummeted through, screaming. Dr. Hero hadn't even thought of where the second portal went…Minion Number 67 landed right in the middle of Talladega, Al, but that's another story.

Suddenly another portal opened immediately behind Dr. Hero. A flood of Minions rushed in and attempted to seize the pigeon-headed impostor. An epic brawl ensued until there was a knock on his office door.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

The Minions stopped, and Dr. Hero tilted his head as he peered at his door. He glanced back at the Minions and approached it, cautiously.

"Who's there?" Dr. Hero asked.

"Impending," replied a voice on the other side.

"Impending who?" asked Dr. Hero, completely oblivious to how knock knock jokes worked.

"IMPENDING DOOM!" Dr. Zero kicked the door open, sending Dr. Hero hurtling into the gaggle of Minions. They all tumble over. Dr. Hero quickly activates a control on his wrist that surrounds him in a protective bubble-like forcefield.

He reaches for the triangular artifact, but the bubble knocks it off the table. Dr. Zero laughs and lunges at it, himself.

Dr. Hero dives and sends Dr. Zero sailing with the force of the bubble. The entire time, Minions are punching and kicking the bubble to no avail.

Dr. Hero, seeing that Dr. Zero is still attempting to regroup after being sent flying across the room, charges full speed into the horde of Minions. They bounce off of him and one another and go crashing through the wall. All of Dr. Zero's Minions involved in the attack plummet to the pavement below.

Dr. Zero shouts a command into his wrist communicator. "NURSE X, BRING ME THE BAT!"

Dr. Hero, again, cocks his head to the side. In less than 10 seconds, Nurse X rushes through the door with a small wiffle ball bat. Dr Hero laughs. Dr. Zero flips a switch on the side of the bat causing it to grow to a comically large size. He stands and swings wildly at Dr. Hero.

The bat connects with the bubble and sends Dr. Hero flying out over the horizon. Dr. Zero takes a lap around the room making crowd noises and congratulating himself. Nurse X meets him back at his starting point with a chest bump.

The moment has arrived. Dr. Zero walks victoriously over his prize. The ancient, triangular plot dev…err…artifact. He lifts it from the ground, dusts it off, and returns it to his coat pocket.

He puts his arm around Nurse X, and the two teleport back to his laboratory.

Once there and after enough time had passed to cool down from the days events, Nurse X approached Dr. Zero in his office.

"Uhcuz muh, suh. Duh uh suh wuh Tunuh Suntush sud ubuh uh?"

"What? That drunken fool dared to address ME!? Me, The Great Dr. Zero!?"

"Uh, suh. Uh bruht thuh tuhp."

"Thank you, Nurse X. Please, place it in the VCR."

Nurse X takes a tape and places it in Dr. Zero's VCR. The TV comes to life with the face of Tony Santos. A whole lot of passive-aggressive defensiveness was thrown out about ESP carrying him through the Lethal Lottery Tournament, which was true.

But then, Dr. Zero heard it. "Fluke."

Tony Santos had called the greatest mind in the history of history…A fluke.

Now, if Dr. Zero had been called a chicken, he could understand the confusion. But he bore no resemblance whatsoever to a parasitic worm or a fish, so Mr. Santos MUST have been calling him lucky.

"Luck," thought Dr. Zero, "had absolutely nothing to do with it."

Dr. Zero flipped over his desk, sending his lamp crashing to the ground. He began pacing back and forth across the room.

"Fluke? FLUKE!? THAT ALCOHOLIC NEVER-WAS CAN'T WIN BIG MATCH BASTARD excuse my language HAD THE GAUL TO CALL ME 'A FLUKE'!? Forgive my boisterousness, Nurse X. It just…It just upsets me so, do you understand? Ever move I make, EVERYTHING I DO is carefully thought out and reasoned. I am a man of SCIENCE! The outcome of the Lethal Lottery has already been decided! It's already won! The Egyptian Snow Pharaoh and I, DR. ZERO walk out as winners. Tony Santos and that very talented, very fashionable partner of his, Mr. Idenhaus, will lose. The numbers do not lie! Let me look over them again. Nurse X, hand me your clipboard."

Nurse X walked over to him and did as requested. Dr. Zero examined the papers and then pointed as if he had found exactly what he had been looking for.

"HAHA! HERE! You take your 33 and 1/3 chance, minus my 25% chance, and you've got an 8 and 1/3 chance of winning. But then you take my 75% chance of winning…WAIT! NURSE X, WHY ARE YOU TRANSCRIBING SCOTT STEINER PROMOS! I TOLD YOU TO STOP THAT BEHAVIOR! HE IS A PLEBEIAN!"

Dr. Zero tears that sheet of paper into pieces and tosses it across the room. He continues to examine the paper.

"AHA! Here it is! According to my calculations, Team Snow Zero has a 141 and 2/3rds chance of GODDAMN IT, NURSE X!"

He tosses the clipboard at her, hitting her in the side of the head. Nurse X grunts and picks it up, removing herself from the room.

"COME BACK IN AN HOUR WITH A PUPPY FOR ME TO ASSAULT, NURSE X (#heel)! I cannot go into the match with this much blind fury. I must exorcise it somehow. AND BRING ME THE JUICE!"

'The juice' of course, being either a Sprite, the pink concoction he injected Egyptian Snow Pharaoh with to increase her combat abilities, or a combination of both.

Dr. Zero would prove that he was no fluke. There is no such thing as luck. One of his many mottos.

These Final Hours Begin

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 11:39:55 -0800

These Final Hours
Part 1

"Thank you for coming, ESP."

"Yes," I respond. What else need be said? It's not a pleasure to be here.

I shake Liz Weinberg's hand and I find myself already second guessing my decision of meeting with her today. 'ESP?' Is that how she chose to greet me the first time we officially meet face to face? Or... or is it possible we have already met and it's one of the memories I can't recall at will? There's something about Liz; she has this air of familiarity that I can't put my finger on. "We only have a few moments of airtime available so I wanted to cut right to the chase and ask you about one person in particular..."

I can guess who that name will be.

"I'd like to ask you about NAZI," Liz finishes. She was talking about him? That's odd, I would have thought she was going to ask me about someone who matters a little more to me. Someone like Dr. Zero. You know; someone I didn't already specify I was done talking about before today. I hope I'm not about to be baited into a conversation I don't need to have...

I blink slowly and continue staring out into the distance in what some would say resembles a light trance. I'm not much for typical or "normal" eye contact during one on one encounters and I feel no need to care if people say I look like a robot during my interviews. With what most people think of when they use the term robot, it's actually not that far off to refer to me as such. Now let's listen to what Liz has to ask me about Nathaniel...

"Everyone heard what you had to say last night regarding NAZI, but I wanted to touch on a subject that hasn't been addressed yet. John Madison and NAZI — more specifically the Black Circle and the influence XWF owner Shane has over the big matches and their outcomes..." Liz surprises me with this; it seems she's taken this in a direction I didn't expect... and here I thought she was just going to have me repeat my generous invitation to Nathaniel.

Liz continues, "So what we have is the current King of the XWF as well as the owner who both have a vested interest in seeing NAZI win the tournament and claim the 24/7 Briefcase. It isn't hard to see why this is a major part of their agenda; it's the same agenda at play when a match like John Madison versus Theo Pryce gets booked for the XWF Crown. Shane would like to build a multi-layered insurance policy that will guarantee the crown never leaving Black Circle hands. If Theo Pryce wins tonight, the new King of XWF is simply another leg of the Black Circle."

"Finally, if they can get NAZI winning a briefcase tonight, he'll be waiting in the wings to cash in the moment any non-Black Circle member finally claims that crown. It would be difficult enough for a non-Circle member to even be booked into a match for the crown... but if that happens, and if by some chance the other Black Circle members fail to help sway the match in their favor... then NAZI will just walk out and cash in after the match ends. We'd have a legitimate XWF King, finally, for a grand total of around one or two minutes before it fell back into Black Circle hands. What are your thoughts on all of this and have you considered all of those possibilities? Are you prepared for outside forces to get involved in your match tonight on behalf of NAZI?"

Liz makes incredibly valid points that I hadn't particularly focused on much in the last couple of weeks, but what she's saying does become obvious when you think about the Scam Machine that Shane and King John have constructed right before our very eyes. I've actually eluded to this in the past and it left John Madison and Shane scrambling to divert everyone's attention away from their scam. I would venture to say there are additional strings and insurance policies in place that Liz hasn't even considered, but I don't have the time to address all of that now. "What you're describing to me, Liz, are the workings of the world I will soon be in control of. I'm well aware of the XWF's 'climate' and I can see exactly how to manipulate it over time; similarly to what I've manipulated Tony Santos into over time... a foreign, corrupted and possibly threatening agent of change that has been converted into a tool of flight. My flight. That is the parallel between the Black Circle and Tony Santos; it's just that Santos is getting there faster. Enough about him though... I've already spoke his name as many times as I'd like to this year."

"But since you brought him up, can I just focus on a couple of quick points?"

I hesitate, keeping my gaze fixated ahead but then lowering my brow and shifting my eyes to hers. She is very much pushing her luck, but... a part of me is feeling generous this week, as I've demonstrated in various ways.

Turning my eyes away from her once more and looking ahead, I calmly state... "I'll allow it."

What am I thinking???

The Face of Deceit - Finale - "Answers"

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 11:34:39 -0800

Realising his cover had been blown, Smoke runs through the door, but is blindsided with a boot to his injured arm. He collapses to the ground, grabbing his arm in agony.

You just had to go snooping around, didn't you?

Smoke looks up and sees a familiar face. It takes a second, but Smoke has a startling realisation as to who it is. After a throaty cough, he sputters the name out of his mouth like a rotten piece apple.

Scott.

Scott Manly, the Canadian from DWA. He looks different, which can be mainly attributed to his haircut, which is significantly shorter than before, yet still that striking blonde colour. He is also wearing a suit, which is pretty unusual for him, considering how Smoke had always known him as the type to prefer hoodies.

Hmm, glad you remember me Smokey, the guy who gave you your whole identity in the first place. If it weren't for me you would still be back in the scum-hole that you call 'home'.

That hit Smoke hard. He wanted to lash out at Scott but just couldn't. Scott does notice this, and puts his boot on Smoke's arm, slightly pushing it down a little to inflict all the more pain, which causes Smoke to cry out.

Yeah, scream, you little bitch.

Scott.

Scott looks across the room, and Smoke does the same, still wincing at the pain surging through his arm. He sees a figure, which he assumes to be his brother; Ed, standing in front of a wall of computer monitors, silhouetted by the light.

I don't think our 'guest' deserves that kind of treatment.

Scott almost growls.

After what he did!? Trust me, he does. And he deserves a whole lot worse, too.

Ed swivels his head to look over his shoulder.

Calm down, Scott. Right now the only thing he deserves is an explanation.

In answer to this, Scott smirks, and digs the front of his shoe even further into Smoke's shoulder. A yelp soon follows.

Since when do I take orders from you, Teej? I've always been better than you. Maybe we haven't seen each other for years, but I know you're still as weak as always.

Ed turns and walks over to Scott, his fists balled in anger.

Scott, I know that we have some bad blood, and I know how to feel, trust me. But the last thing we need is trouble if we want to finish what we have started. And at the end of the day, Daniel is my brother, and I at least owe him a reason.

Scott lifts his foot from digging into Smoke's shoulder, but it's still perched on Smoke's side.

And you think I give a shit?

Ed looks at him intently in the eye, with his eyebrows raised.

You should.

Knowing his 'partner' won't yield, Scott spits at the floor and walks across the room, flopping into a swivel-chair near the set of monitors. Ed looks over his brother and sighs. He kneels down and helps his brother sit in the upright position, against the wall. Smoke is looking hazy at best, staring through the blurred slit formed by his eyelids.

Ed looks at Smoke for a few seconds, and without so much as blinking, slaps him across the face.

Hard.

Smoke just sits there and accepts it, facing the ground after his neck had rolled at the rebound.

Helpless.

Weak.

Pathetic.

Ed stands, walking around the perimeter of the room, being sure to properly close the door as he does.

So you want answers, Daniel. You want to know... why all of this has happened to you and, as always, your brother has the solution.

Smoke spits out a blot of blood. He looks cranes his neck and looks at Ed, breathing heavily. Wheezing, he ever so slowly draws out his response.

Who... wh... who did... who did it...

Ed smiles a somewhat grim smile, and half-turns, showing Scott, who smiles as he sits, rocking to and fro in his chair. Scott starts mumbling a psychotic laughter.

H... how..?

How is not important, Dan. What is important is why, and I'm sure you would agree with me in that regard.

Do you remember all those years ago? Back when even I was still in this whole wrestling business? I had that opportunity that I'd worked my entire career on, and you had just thrown it out the window in an act of jealous retribution.

Regardless of what you heard or assumed before, that was why I stopped wrestling, because I understood that despite my anger, there was a reason you had done what you done and, all things considered, it was fair of you.

Then you moved to America, after three years of being the top dog in an obscure business, you thought you could reach the big leagues. When you did, I undoubtedly supported you. And, well, you know what happened next. I was to return home, and you ignored my attempt to make amends with you before I left, you selfish bastard.

It was at that moment I realised how self-involved you had been, how you had chosen to put yourself before family and friends who were willingly open to help, and support you.

Of course, when you decided to show your face back home, I was invited to come along. But instead of taking a flight to good ol' England, I came here. I followed you home, I stole your apartment key. I found your number and sent that text to you.

It was all me.

Ed sighs.

But when it came to it; the big curtain call in my master plan... I couldn't do it. I wanted to get back so badly, but I didn't know if I was too far. But luckily; Scott was just a phone call away from doing it for me.

And we did. We watched your apartment burn. And since then we've been here, tucked away in the security room of the arena, watching you toil about with the boss and your pathetic problems; like our very own version of Big Brother.

Smoke has another coughing fit.

Asshole.

Again Ed sighs.

Again with the selfish attitude, Dan. You need to sort yourself out. And soon. Otherwise you're just going to fall behind when the day comes.

Ed looks over to Scott, who stands from his chair. Scott walks over to Smoke and kneels in front of him. He speaks quietly, almost whispering.

After you left the DWA went in decline. Less people started showing up and, well, we couldn't keep afloat. I guess your big-headed attitude would like to know that we could not survive without you, Smoke. Your departure lead to the eventual downfall of the DWA.

But it shall live on.

Scott stands and circles back around to stand beside Ed, propping himself up against the wall.

When your dear brother contacted me over the phone he brought up another option... almost as if he didn't expect me to want that retribution.

He told me of an idea. A real idea. A plan.

The DWA was born, lived, and it died in the wallows of mediocrity, in... nothingness. But now? It shall thrive.

Starting from now, you will slowly be watching the beginning of the end of the XWF. And just like your apartment, it will burn, to, ashes. And our of those ashes will rise a phoenix.

The re-birth of the DWA.

Scott walks back across the room, opening the door and leaving.

Ed is not that far behind him. He turns off the lights, leaving Smoke in all but total darkness. Before closing the door, he says one last thing.

It's time for the Doomsday to begin.

And with that, the door swings shut.

And Smoke can finally be unconscious in peace.

Dormiveglia (4)

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 11:09:53 -0800

Damien couldn't figure out if he was in a state of dormiveglia or if he was simply devoid of any sanity. Had he really just seen all that he had in the past two days, or was he going mad? He awoke in the large chair at the manor, and this time, she was gone. There was no trace she had been here. It was as if the manor house had been cleaned.. even the blankets and sheets on the bed were fresh. He sat up completely wiping his eyes. Standing, he made his way down the staircase and the doorbell rang. Opening the door he found Alfred standing there.

"Good morning young sir."

"Good morning Alfred."

Damien yawned, stretching. He smiled at the older man and waited for a few moments before speaking again.

"You said you would check on me the next morning."

Alfred looked at him strangely.

"It is the next morning young sir."

Alfred looked at him concerned. Damien normally didn't act like this, so it frightened the older man just enough to make him worry. Alfred grabbed Damiens bags and placed them in the trunk of the car. Before ushering him out with it.

"But wait.. I just need to check something..."

Damien ran back inside, wondering if it had been real. Checking the closet he found the silver slip of a nightgown she had worn. The clothes that had been in the closet, now gone. On the dresser lay a hairbrush, long blonde strands still clung in it. Where had she gone? Damien shook his head and went back downstairs. He made sure to lock up the manor and climbed into the car. After all, he needed to get back to the states. He had a match tomorrow night, and he didn't plan on missing it.

-London-Heathrow Airport 8am-
Alfred drove up to the large airport and stepped out of the car to open the door for Damien and let him out. He smiled at him and nodded softly. The two men said their goodbyes and Damien disappeared into the airport, and past security. Once he was in the terminal for his flight, he sat down and pulled his phone out. Time to talk some shit. He hit record and started talking.

"Gunner, you waltz around here thinking that you are gods gift to Professional Wrestling. You are a pathetic excuse for a wrestler. You will never amount to anything. All that glory and fame that your father had, you'll never reach that pinnicale. Face it Gunner, you will always be second best. Hell, you aren't even second best. You are on the bottom of the barrel with the other jobbers here in XWF. So you want to try and prove your worth on my account, it's not going to happen. See you in the ring, punk."

With that Damien cut the video feed and sent it off to XWF management to be played before the show. Damien boarded his flight and headed back home to the states, knowing he had done as Zak asked.

Team Snow Zero Forced Collaboration

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 11:02:38 -0800

Dr. Zero and Egyptian Snow Pharaoh arrive immediately back in the former's laboratory after the near-death experience shared thanks to Detective Lieutenant Boulder and his mysterious accomplice, Lenny Johnson. The pair are surrounded by Minions and Dr. Zero is handed a blaster. He immediately aims it right at ESP's head.

"You…You set me up! TWICE NOW!" he screams at ESP.

"What are you talking about?" she replies. "You set yourself up. You're a scientist. How are you going to forget to encrypt messages you send out?"

Dr. Zero continues to hold the blaster just out of reach from ESP, still steadily aiming it at her forehead. The Minions watch on, anxiously.

"What do you mean 'forget to encrypt'? I encrypt…Curses…ALPH! GET IN HERE NOW!" In scurries Dr. Zero's old friend. The demonic worm, encased in his glass case, surrounded by the gelatinous mess that gives him the nutrients essential to life, and skittering about on his 8 robotic legs.

"What's up, boss?" says Alph.

"Alph, you had ONE job. ONLY ONE! What was it?" Dr. Zero asks him.

"Make sure the Minions aren't stealing food out of the break-room?"

"Well, yes…But…Ok…"

"Monitor this lovely lady's emails?" Alph sloshes around to face ESP. He winks at her.

Dr. Zero adjusts his collar, nervously. "Err…Ahem…No. No one told you to do that," Dr. Zero says. That goddamn liar.

"But, yeah you di…," before he can finish the sentence, Dr. Zero blasts him with the laser. The Minions start to cheer, but ESP seizes the opportunity to knock the blaster from Dr. Zero's hand, and, as though in one fluid motion, grabs him, retrieves a hidden dagger, and holds it to his throat.

"Now, now, princess. Let's not get to hasty," he says.

The Minions move back, not sure of how to handle the situation.

"Everyone, stay back. There's no need for violence today. Ms. Pharaoh, what would you like for us to do?" Dr. Zero asks her. She looks around, taking in her surroundings. She knows how crafty Dr. Zero can be.

"Privacy. Right now."

"Your wish is my command." The pair begin to move through the labyrinthian halls of his laboratory. Egyptian Snow Pharaoh seems completely unmoved by the plethora of bizarre noises and disturbing sights in the various 'observation rooms'. Unlike Dr. Zero's prior Lethal Lottery partner, Mr. Idenhaus.

They reach a very large, ornate pair of oak doors. There is a panel to the side that appears to be a locking mechanism of sorts.

"Umm…Pardon me. It needs my password," Dr. Zero tells Egyptian Snow Pharaoh. She allows him to lean close to the console. "Eamtay Owsnay Erozay," he says, followed by, "Ackstabbedbay." Green lights flicker on the console, and a click can be heard. Dr. Zero kicks the door open and spins around quickly with ESP, aiming her back in the door. A set of 4 metallic arms shoot out of the room and latch onto her, snatching her into a chair. The blade nicks Dr. Zero's neck as she is torn away. He ignores it and steps into the room.

Dr. Zero calmly walks behind his desk as the doors slam shut. He sits down and pours a can of Sprite into a large wine glass. He swirls it around and sniffs it before taking just a sip.

"Pardon me. I didn't offer you a libation, did I? Would you care for something?"

ESP stares a hole through Dr. Zero.

"No, of course not. It appears as though I do owe you an apology. I should not have trusted the encryption of my message to you with a plebeian such as Alph. For that, I am truly sorry. I feel, however, there is some explanation needed from you. That would be the reason I contacted you in the first place. You see, something very, verrrrrrrrrrry important to me has been taken thanks to you."

The stone gaze of ESP does not change a bit.

"Hmm…Perhaps you've met him? The pigeon-headed freak calling himself 'Dr. Hero'? My sources indicate that you are the one that led him here and that you know how I can find him. This is quite disheartening, I must say. You were my favorite, Pharaoh. The rest in the XWF all seem rather shallow…Rather quaint…But you, no…You're special. That is why I am willing to give you another chance."

ESP looks down at the restraints that are keeping her in the chair. She's already trying to formulate a plan of escape.

Dr. Zero notices. "That will not be necessary. This will only take a second." He clicks a button on his desk and a metallic cap with red and green blinking lights descends from the ceiling connected to several wires. Dr. Zero attaches it to ESP's head and presses a few buttons. It begins to hum.

Dr. Zero steps back and clicks the button again, this time another cap lowers. He places it on his own head.

ESP suddenly sees all manner of cruelty that Dr. Zero has endured. Then, she sees a room filled with glass on all sides. Dr. Zero sitting at a desk in the middle of the empty room.

No, it's not empty.

A boy, confused, sits in front of the desk. Something about the Apocalypse? Who's is the boy? A fly is circling the room. Then it's all gone.

Dr. Zero peers into Pharaoh's mind as though searching through DVD clips.

Static...

The sound of a woman moaning very lightly...

A flash of light and we are inside of her head...

The room is dim and the walls are lit by the sporadic flickering of a television. The immediate surrounding is a common hotel room and Egyptian Snow Pharaoh is sitting at the edge of the bed, directly in front of the television. The television is not shown directly but whatever she is watching seems to be giving her a reason to smile. A smile larger than any we've seen before from her is now across her face as she continues watching what sound like clips of a wrestling match...

A few moments pass and commentators can be heard talking about the XWF Trio Championships... it sounds like she's watching a replay of her very first match in which she teamed with Jessica Diaz and Tri Bute to claim the Trio Titles. The sound of the television is rather low so not all the audio can be heard, but it sounds like the match has come to a close now. The entire room goes black for a second as a result of the clip ending on the television, but quickly lights back up with a new clip that begins...

It's not clear what Pharaoh is watching, but it sounds like a female's voice can be heard.

A few more seconds pass and Pharaoh slowly leans back on the back, looking very enticed by what she is watching.

A few more seconds pass and the unmistakable voice of Jessie-ica Diaz can be heard coming from the television. Pharaoh seems to be watching footage of Diaz and really enjoying what she's seeing. "So amazing..." she lets out under her breath as she stares intently at the screen until...

It starts to become obvious that her hand is slowly moving...

Moving along her breasts, down her stomach, and between her legs.

Pharaoh begins breathing heavily as she continues watching the television, sinking back into the bed and eventually closing her eyes as she brings herself to...

"CUT!" yells Dr. Zero, attempting to stop the imagery. This isn't the memory he's probing for. He realigns himself with the machinery. After a few more moments, he sees it. Dr. Hero.

Dr. Zero tosses the cap off of his head, staggering backwards. It swings, knocks over a lamp on his desk, and rises back into the ceiling from whence it came. ESP's does the same. Dr. Zero begins to laugh.

"heh…heh heh…Hahahaha…MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! DR. HERO, YOU SHALL NOT ESCAPE ME! YOU SHALL PERISH BEFORE THE MIGHT OF DR. ZERO!"

He fumbles around clumsily in a desk drawer, murmuring to himself before pulling out a hypodermic needle filled with some pink substance. Dr. Zero eyes ESP and staggers back over to her.

"This…This is for your own…for…for your own good." He stabs the needle into her arm and injects her with the concoction. ESP can instantly feel her entire burn and ache. "This is uh…This is a 'thank you.'"

ESP suddenly feels stronger than ever before and bursts out of the restraints. She marches toward Dr. Zero who stumbles over his feet in an attempt to get away. He inches backwards to the corner of his room, darkened by ESP's shadow. He raises his hands over his head and curls into a ball.

"Please…Please don't. I…I'm helping you. I'm suh…sorry. I'm sorry. You're better…now. I just want…I just want you to be…your own master."

With that, Egyptian Snow Pharaoh simply turns and leaves Dr. Zero's office.

If only beaks could smirk.

A Phone Call - The Last Hope (RP 6)

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 10:20:56 -0800

It's because I had a team once. A team with the best training, the best equipment, and despite everything that they had that made them the best: they still lied, stole, and tore each other to pieces. So you tell me; how the hell am I supposed to trust a ragtag team of idiots, when I couldn't even trust the people that were closest to me? - Agent Carolina

"Come on Luca, you don't have to do this," Nova's voice rang through the phone, the damaged speaker making his words fuzzy and his subsequent silence drowns the chapel in a sea of static.

"Oh, is it that simple? Just - don't?" The sound of his pacing feet shuffling across the carpeted floor accompanies his response. Gripping the side of his face in on his hand, he drags the tips of his fingers downward until they reach his clavicle, and pulls away.

"Yes. It is that simple. You know you don't want to do this."

"Oh, do I now? Is that really what I'm thinking, or is that what you want me to think? If it's really that big of a deal to you, why don't you just teleport on in where I am and drag me out? Huh?!"

"I'm not going to do that. You're an adult and can make your own decisions."

"Oh, so you don't really care, is that it? Thank you for being fucking honest."

"God dammit, Luca. What is it you want? Do you want me to come over there and drag you out or something?"

"I just want to hear some fucking honesty. I'm surrounded by bullshit and lies every second of every day, and I need something to let me know what's real, and what's fake. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Here's some honesty: that's what everyone deals with. There, better?"

"Why? Why is that? C'mon, answer me. Use the vast knowledge you have from space to tell me why everyone is such a bullshit artist, and why we're all sucked into the same traps?"

"You think there's an answer for that?"

"I do." His voice by this point was nothing more than a choked out whisper, holding back sobs and trying desperately to wipe the tears from his eyes. In silence, he stared at the phone laid on the ground, its light the only thing shining in the empty room.

"You think you'll find the answer?"

"That's why I'm here, aren't I?"

Nova sighs, breathing heavily into his end of the phone. "I guess. I just, nevermind."

"You just what?"

"I just; if I can't get you to change your mind, I want to know why you're doing it. Why you want to know that so badly. Why you're so willing to give up everything, just to ask questions that you'll never be sure were answered fully. Why?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because, I'm your friend, frienemy, whatever the hell you want to call it. Whether you want to know this or not; I do actually care about you."

"Bullshit."

"Huh?"

"That's bullshit, and you know it."

"Why do you have such a problem believing that people actually do care about you?"

Momentary silence. With tears running down both cheeks, Luca clenches his fists and grits his teeth, before erupting in a sob, mouth wide open, open palms pressed against the floor.

"Did, did I ever tell you about Victoria?" The confrontational tone in his voice drops out, leaving only a weak, whimper.

"You've mentioned her once, I think. Your fiance, right?"

"She was. But, she wasn't the only one. There were a group of 'em. Four. I loved them, I loved them all and I fucking mean it. Then, one of them died. We had a falling out. Even before that though, we were lying to each other, doing all sorts of shit that only benefited one person, and I was just as guilty of doing it. We fucking broke apart after the first one's death.

I left. I told Heiman to fuck himself.

Then, the three that were left turned their backs on me. Victoria included.

They were too focused on being loyal to Jeffery fucking Heiman, to even notice that what I was saying was right. It was all a set up. Heiman was behind Jonathan's death.

They couldn't see it, or maybe they just didn't want to.

Those, were the people I cared about. They ripped my fucking heart out and stomped it into the fucking dirt. They left me with nothing.

I loved them all, god dammit!

I, I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with one of them. But the fucked up part is this: I'm not angry with them. I can't be. They're all gone now. And despite what they did to me, the only thing I could wish for would be them all back again. Just so we could sit around some table somewhere and shoot the shit for hours without caring about the time.

Without counting down the hours until my liver fails on me and leaves me to drown in a puddle of my own bloody vomit. Back then, I didn't drink.

Then I found another group. I infiltrated their ranks, and won their trust. They were different. They all cared about each other, and never worked against themselves.

I sold them out.

In that moment, I understood where they were coming from; the original group, that is. They threw me under the bus for their own safety.

I wish they hadn't, but I can't change the past.

So, you expect me to believe that the group of people I trusted with my life at the end of the day couldn't give a damn about me, but you do?

Is that what you're getting at?"

"L-Luca?"

Click. Turning the phone upside down and setting it to silent, Luca remains on his knees, facing the stained glass window at the front of the chapel.

"Hey, God?

I know, it's been a long while. And I didn't exactly break into this place with the intention of praying, but if you are real, can you hear me out?

None of them are in Heaven, I know, but I want to tell them; Nari, Kyle, Victoria, that I forgive them. I know why they did it, and that if they're down there, begging for my forgiveness, that I do.

It wasn't all their fault.

I guess, I gotta start taking some of the blame, huh?

And for that, I guess I want to apologize to them too. All of them, Jonny included. Especially Jonny. He should've never got involved, but he tried to help me. I should be the one rotting six feet in the ground right now, not him.

I'm, I'm sorry, buddy."

With a sigh, he wipes the last of the tears from his eyes and cheeks, and picks up the phone. Looking down at the cracked screen, he swallows his pride and calls back the only one who was willing to hear him out.

No answer. After the tone, Luca leaves his message:

"Hey, Nova. I'm not going through with it. Can you come get me, though? It's a bit of a long walk."

The Face of Deceit - Part 5 - "It's My Life"

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 09:50:59 -0800

Three Years Ago

The ropes of the ring shake and shudder, and the sold-out crowd chant 'TJ! TJ! TJ! TJ!', almost overwhelming TJ Staners, who attempts to stand, dazed from his last attack on his opponent.

Now is his chance, more so than ever in his entire career, to finally become the DWA World Champion, a prize he had so long sought after. All it would take is one final move on the man who has held the belt for almost three years straight; Scott Manly.

TJ is on his feet, he steadies himself thanks to the ropes, and he begins to stomp on the mat, over and over while the crowd clap him on. All he needs is a window to strike, just a small opening...

And he gets it, as Scott stumbles to a stand, only to see his adversary run toward him...

And hit him with the TKO!!

Scott is down and out! TJ collapses on top of him! The ref goes down for the pin, and the crowd chant along!

1!

2!

Darkness.

Before the ref can hit the mat the third time, all of the lights in the arena have gone out, to the confusion of everyone in the building. Without being able to see if Scott has kicked out or not, the ref had stopped the count, and the match still rolls on!

The sound of lightning crackles, and a demonic face appears on screen, as if someone has just shone a torch from below their chin, casting a shadow across the features of his face. A small trickle of smoke starts pouring out from the stage entrance, out from under the ring, and practically everywhere else in the arena.

A voice booms around the arena, among the confusion.

The day has come for you to realise what you have done.

You thought you could tame the monster. You thought of it as a rodent.

But you were wrong.

Another crack of lightning, and the smoke seems to be gushing out rapidly now.

The predator is not to be underestimated.

And now it shall be your downfall.

Yet another shot of lightning.

You ignored the smoke.

You through it away.

But that was your one mistake.

Because the smoke has returned.

The arena once again blacks-out, and the face is gone.

The smoke is here.

The lights begin to flash, as unrecognizable music plays, as if discorded and played backwards. The sound changes, and it is similar to rewinding a tape. And then the music hits for real;

The lights have come on with a sickly orange glow, and the screen flashes orange in time with the song. A figure stands on the top of the ramp, as if waiting for something.

Pyro shoots off in all directions, in different angles. Everywhere.

They stop, and the figure looks up and down toward the ring, with a smile on his face. Suddenly, he springs into action and runs down the ramp, rolling in the ring, with the crowd going ballistic around him.

At this point, TJ was standing, knowing full-well who it was. The unknown person runs at TJ and nails him with a clothesline, easily toppling over the weakened wrestler. He continues his momentum and climbs the top rope, leaping off and hitting a Big Elbow Drop onto TJ. It looks like he is out of it now.

Scott, having time to recover, is up, and attempts his own finisher, the spear, to the assailant, but is sidestepped, and collides with the ring-post. Turning back around, he walks into a Chokeslam!

Up...

And down he goes!

Everybody is down! Everyone... apart from the attacker. The ref is totally confused, and out of his confusion, drops to the mat when the attacker tries to pin Scott!

1!

2!

3!!

Scott Manly has lost the Title!

But TJ hadn't won it either!

The ref, realising his mistake, quickly darts from the ring! The announcer, who appears to have been slipped a piece of paper from... somewhere, yells down the mic;

Ladies and gentlemen! Here is your winner and nnnneeeeeeeww DWA World Champion;

Smoooooooke Maaaaaannnn!

Tears well in Smoke's eyes. He grips the belt with all his might, not wanting to ever let go. Climbing the top rope, he holds it above his head, and the crowd cheer around him!

Since last being in the DWA as Daniel Rock, the company had expanded enormously. This is just a regular PPV now, televised and broadcast around the world. Just two years from when he had first arrived.

He decsends from the top rope and exits the ring, leaving before having to face the backlash of his actions. He collapses in excitement as he tries walking backwards on the ramp, but fails. He lies there, looking up at the rafters with an unbelievable smile on his face.

He made it.

Finally.

You Can Change

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 09:47:04 -0800

It's not real... is it? We tell ourselves this or that as long as it makes sense at the time. If it makes sense at that time, then we call it real. If it doesn't make sense at the time, then we say it isn't. One minute it can make sense and we call it real, or truth.. then the next that very same thing that made sense doesn't anymore and we call it fiction, or false... and to those who disagree at the time we call crazy.

That right there is the world all these people live in.. and settle for.

All these people want to debate or argue over things that make or do not make sense at the time. They waste their breath on fighting images they've created themselves and if you don't understand it... you're just not ready for it yet. Truth is universal. It's what makes truth... truth.

This is not a job. This is not something I would call a career. This is my calling. This is my life. This.. is my purpose. I do it without getting paid. I do it without a limelight. I do it for the Almighty. He said "Come to me, for I have a message for you to tell" .. I went and heard the message. And I've come to deliver that message without any fear.. accepting the difficult road that lies before me.

So many people could have been saved. The depressed could have found joy in my message. The hurting could have found a healing. The confused could have become stable once more. I opened my arms for all who hears the sounding of my voice to come to me and I would give them rest.. I would show them the way to eternal life.. I would show them the path that leads to something far better than where they are. Maybe it just sounds to good to be true? Maybe they are afraid of the unknown? Instead of coming to me.. they turned away.. they rejected me and the message.. they rejected the Almighty.. they will run aimlessly through the rest of their lives.

Eli was visiting the orphanage he has rebuilt for his friend, Eric Rex, or Elisha as he's known now. He walks around various classrooms as teachers he had hired are teaching the orphans about Almighty, history, math, science, and a few other subjects. Everything looks to be in order like he had left it and there's been no major issues among any of the kids or teachers.

Eli randomly slowly opens the door to a classroom. The children turn around to see him and know who he is by pictures around. The teacher is stunned to see Eli in the flesh and stops what she is teaching to introduce him to the class. Eli smiles at the kids and walks up to the front of the classroom by the teacher. The teacher is actually former porn star, "Jersey Jaxin" or Tanya Speaks, who Eli had reached out to to lead her to a new life.

"Let's give the founder of this orphanage, Mr. James, a great welcome.

All the kids clap. Tanya looks at Eli in almost a seductive way, but he doesn't pay her much attention. Eli stands on the desk as Tanya moves tot he side a bit to give Eli the floor.

"Almighty is not here to hurt you or to lock you away from fun or pleasure. He has standards, and we must follow those standards. You are all here for a reason.. and that reason is to do the will of the Almighty and accomplish a great task in spreading his message. It's in your hands. It's a high and noble task that I think you all can accomplish.

I have an opponent in the XWF.. where I've been called to spread the message to.. named Michael Radio. He has a strange past. He's let the things of this materialistic world consume him and it's left him with no hope.. nothing to cling to.. and his friends.. have abandoned him. The one person he loved.. isn't stable. He's gone on to say he has a disease and it's going to kill him soon.

It's not his disease that's killing him. It's his sin. He has rolled around in the filth that is his sin and it has consumed him so much. The world he, and everyone else, clings to is also destroying his very soul. This place is designed to fall. Those who live in it are destined to diminish alongside it.

"Mr. James. Couldn't you help him?

"Susie. Let Mr. James finish before you interrupt him like that. Sorry Mr. James.

"It's fine, Tanya. Susie? I could. I can help anyone, but it must be from their own free will. They must choose and ask for help.. it cannot be forced. His life could find new meaning.. new purpose.. and his life would be transformed into something great. He, like many others, have chosen to die in their sins. He has chosen to fall into depression and let the past wrap him up.

He could.. right now.. find me and I could introduce him to the Almighty. The offer is always there for anyone.. but people would rather choose pride over freedom.. selfishness over salvation. You, my dear children, are the future of this world and can be the very light this place needs. Follow the ways of the Almighty and all shall be well with your soul.

Remember.. yield to him and he'll show you the way.

"Let's all thank Mr. James for that wonderful word.

They all clap as Eli smiles back in response. Eli shakes Tanya's hand and gives her a kiss on the cheek. She gives a small blush. Eli leaves the classroom with everyone smiling.

I can feel the ending is drawing near. I remember it how it all started and now.. I see how it's all going to end. I'm not really sure if everyone is prepared.

Several of all these employees of the XWF will gather with their family or friends following the Lethal Lottery pay per view, and enjoy what is known as Thanksgiving.

Families will come together to either gather around the television to watch some football.. a parade.. look over papers for a Black Friday sale.. play video games.. or just rebuild some friendships. It seems fine. It seems harmless. What's the big deal of eating some good food, enjoy the presence of good company, and do a variety of things?

There is plenty wrong with it. All of it. Every.. last.. bit.

It's a time where people celebrate a supposed time to give and be selfless. It's suppose to be. Everyone will eat themselves into a little stupor. They will be a glutton and a sloth for a day. They will look upon sales with lust and greed in their evil hearts waiting to see what sale intrigues them.

Materialistic is what they can't wait for. Eternal life is what they don't want.

Their minds are so twisted and so evil they are blind to common sense. It's common sense to not go outside during a Tornado as it's only a few feet away.. yet it's not common sense to yield to Almighty and gain eternal life than to rot in ash and fire. Their sense is stupidity.

They should all be thanking Almighty and giving to him. That's true Thanksgiving.

Messiah Complex(RP #4)

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 09:44:46 -0800

XWF feed fades into LJ Havok standing in the interview area with a microphone. He looks aggravated, and he strokes his beard and paces a little bit until he returns to the a stationary position.

John Austin has been such a thorn in my side that I am now dreaming about him! In this dream, I tried to make sense of what was happening..But when I woke up, I said never mind. I knew it was a dream because that would never happen in reality. Reality is that when the true rapture of souls happens, good will be in control of it. Evil will just be waiting to pick up the scraps. The weak will be left behind. So all of the people in the audience and at home who listen to John Austin, do not let him fool you. Power does come within, but it comes from your soul..Your soul belongs to the universe. It does NOT belong to the dark forces.

And I have to right a wrong so to speak. I never tried to be a hero to the fans. I just try to set an example. I show them how to be strong, and always believe that things will be okay no matter what the world throws at you. John Austin still seems to thing that he and his "savior" holds the power of the world.. I said in my promo the other night that the world is being controlled by the dark forces.. Good wants it back. And miracles do happen when you call the Almighty. Eli James IV taught me so much just by getting in my head. You see people like John Austin hunger for power even though they know they will never get it.

He has this thing about him though..He is very articulate much like everyone else who worships the Devil and is in the public eye. The difference is that he doesn't hid his affiliation so most people cannot and will not trust him.

We as believers rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because the universe has promised to take care of us. Which brings me to my next point

John Austin does not realize that I love him as a neighbor. He does not realize that I do not have it in me to hate. Having hate in your heart is the same thing as inviting evil in to live with out paying rent. I'm better than you, John. But that doesn't mean that I condemn you. There is still time to turn your life around. You may be scum. But you are a sinner and the Almighty loves sinners.

Speaking of scum and and unwanted guest... Luca Arzegotti's buddy Supernova. His affiliation with that piece of shit was his first mistake upon arriving here. His second is having that Television title..We all know that TV is basically a parent to millions of children around the world and a mind-numbing agent to the adults. So I ask you people in the audience and at home, do you want an extra-terrestrial to lead you into the New Year? I would sure hope not, because for all we know he could be working with John Austin's "savior". There are similarities between extra-terrestrials and demons. Both can use a host as a mouth piece, the thing is that most of the time the two things clash. One talks..well demonic and the other talks about love for mankind. However sometimes those things flip which leads me to believe that they are the same entities. Therefore I do not trust being in the ring with Austin and Nova at the same time. Nova's track record isn't squeaky clean. Look who he is aligned with.

Let us rejoice with our heads up towards the sky for the day that the Modern Day Messiah prophecized is coming fast. Whether it is this Wednesday or the 7th of December winning that battle royal, LJ Havok WILL be the television champion before the New Year. Pay close attention, I'm going to prove myself.

LJ Havok walks off suddenly to go get ready for his match as the feed fades to black.

Where my demons hide (3/3)

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 07:39:54 -0800

The scene opens up to Liz Hathaway in her room alone with nothing but her thoughts. No Ms. Hathaway, no Elizabeth, no Cole, no Sarah, no one. Liz sits up and stares into the camera.

Ya know, when I first came into XWF, I never would've thought that it would be like it is. I kne it would be wild, crazy, but not this crazy. I've seen it all in my short time of being here. I've seen it all here. I've seen a woman come in here, wreslte naked, and completely dominate. I've seen the greatest weight loss in the history of the world. I've seen a good friend kidnapped. Man, it's been one hell of a ride.

This isn't a goin' away speech, oh no, this is a ... State of the XWF Speech.

Not really but you know.

Last Monday, I had my first Main Event match in XWF History. It was me and Smoke Man vs. Two thirds of The Wildcards, in Jessie Diaz and Tri Bute. I did what I had to do in that match, but we came out with a loss.

No no, I didn't tap. Smoke BitchMan did. HE lost, I didn't lose. But I didn't expect anything less from Smoke Man. I mean, the highlight of his entire career was winning the FTW UFO Championship. The lowest of the low in titles here in XWF. Oh come on, even Matthew Mitchell won that, and he sucks monkey tits!

Smoke Man, you're afraid. You're afraid to not lose to a girl, but lose to me. Yeah you can lose to Jessie Diaz, Alexandra Callaway, and Ann Thraxx, no problem. But when it comes to Liz Hathaway you must win!

Why is that Smokey? Why is the inevitable future such a nightmare to you. Because we both know that I'm gonna win. After your display of skills at Madness when we tagged together (Smart Move, Paul) and got completey smashed, it's certain that you don't have the skills to beat me.

So when I beat you at Lethal Lottery 2, just accept your loss. GGNORE.

No scratch that, I can beat you in a rematch. Because you're like the Jacksonville Jags, and I'm more of the New England Patriots. That means that I am better than you, it's clear.

I hear the Shane is going to be in your corner, while Dean Moxley McGovern is gonna be in mines. That's why you're so afraid of losing to me. Because after I beat you, Shane's gonna be upset, and not give you your daily butt fuck. You need that daily butt fuck to happen everyday. And after that happens, nothing will be the same.

Dean, your in my corner. I haven't seen you in a while Dean, so what's up? 9/10 you're probably molestin' a child right now, but that's cool. Nothin' wrong with that. Just don't forget to show.

Oh and I almost forgot, Luca Arzegotti. Luca, you tryed to "send me a message" I assume by attackin' me after my match. You must be out of your damn mind, Luca. Because the only thing you did was make my urge to hurry up and end Smoke, enhance. After I'm done with Smoke, I'm comin' after you Luca. I need you to know this because I don't wanna pull a you. I don't wanna "sneak" you when your back is turned. I want you face to face, in that ring.

Lethal Lottery is comin'. Smoke Man, we're gonna meet in that squared circle in a Rub a Dub Dub Match. Yeah, that's the match Shane approved of for Lethal Lotto. Must've been high and eatin' a potato when he came up with that, but I'll never know, and will never really care.

Liz Hathaway, Smoke Man, get ready Smokey.

You too, Luca.

Deadpan (RP 5)

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 07:21:06 -0800

Fastforward about a week or so in time, to this week. Y'know, the week where Luca Arzegotti is scheduled to take on Tony Santos and Sweet Cheapshots in a Triple Threat match for the- Oh right, you already know this shit. It's not like he's got the fanbase of Peter Gilmour, who suck on exhaust pipes and now have the attention span of a goldfish. You don't need someone to shout exposition, and yell every other word. Welp, let's head down to some motel room in Portlandia, where Luca's been hiding for the last week or so.

The knocks on the door came in heavy, blaring triplets. Each pound louder than the last, stopping for a few seconds, then restarting in the same identical pattern. Seated in the office chair that the hotel so generously provided as part of the room, Luca groans before getting out of his comfortable seat and makes his way to the door. Looking through the peephole and seeing just who it is disturbing him, he shrugs his shoulders and opens the door.

Enter Steve Sayors and unnamed XWF camera man # 1. The former with a dorky grin on his face and the latter as inconspicuous as possible while carrying a giant camera in one hand, and having said camera block out ninety percent of his face. Surprisingly, that guy's pretty sneaky.

In response to Sayors' grin, Luca glares past him and at the wall, a scowl forming on his lips.

"This is Steve Sayors, here live with none other than the European Champion, Luca Arzegotti!" he exclaims, making a wild arm gesture to emphasize how much douchebaggery is saturated in this tiny room. He turns to face Luca, who promptly looks down at the ground. "It's a pleasure to have you here for this interview!"

"I wish I could say the same," he says, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Okay then, how about your match at the Lethal Lottery tournament? Do you have any words for that?"

"Well, I know that I'm going to win..."

"Do you think it's wise to underestimate your opponents? You never know when one of them might pull off the big upset!"

"Steve, leave the talk about wrestling to me. If I wanted to know about romantic comedies, I'd get your expertise."

"I'm qualified to talk about wrestling!"

"Sure. Anyway, where was I? Oh right, the match itself. With those interesting competitors...

Those super cool folks...

Fuck, I forgot who my opponents were. That's not a good sign, is it?"

"Tony Santos and Sweet Cheapshots, sir."

"Sir? I like it, always refer to me as sir."

"Care to get back on track, sir?"

"Oh, of course! The guy who spends two hundred dollars on something he could've gotten for ninety nine cents and a chicken flavoring packet, and Tony Santos. Tony Santos, the man who people claim is so similar to me (including Santos himself) and yet, I don't see it. Really. Tony Santos is a drunk, I'm a drunk, we're both cynical and snarky. Wow, those are some real grade A fucking similarities! Tony and I really think in sync, huh?

Fuck. Does no one know what the fuck an actual similarity is in this company?

Tony Santos makes really, really fucking stupid World War analogies in an attempt to put me in my place. You're Stalin and I'm Ferdinand? Holy shit, European history!

If I'm Ferdinand, wouldn't something along the lines of you being Gavrilo Princip, his assassin? Or maybe Charles I, his successor? No, you're Stalin, someone who was, if my history serves me correct, some fucking bureaucrat in Lenin's grand-

Wait no, the Reds weren't even in power when the Archduke ate a bullet!

If you're Stalin, I could've been your Trotsky.

But no, I'm Ferdinand, and you're Stalin.

How do I even argue with someone so brain dead?

Fuck it, moving on.

In correcting this bullshit analogy, I think I've also destroyed the claim of not respecting the history of the continent, because kissing up to the Euro crowd in a company based in America, watched by Americans, and participated in by mostly Americans is really a sound marketing idea.

'I'm Tony Santos and since this is the European title; that means Europe totally cares about this belt so I should research European history very poorly and see what happens!'

So, what does Tony say next? What wild, insanely well thought out bits of trash talk does he have in store for me, to possibly back up those claims of being similar to me?

Passive aggressive 'respect' shit? Come on, that might work on getting ESP baited, but me? Fuck dude, maybe you should lay off the bottle. Sheesh!

Talking about my accomplishments, making sure to bring himself up in every likable quality I possess as if to say:

'Hey, look at me! I'm edgy and cynical like him! Come on, pay attention to me!'

But then, like the indecisive bitch he is, stops dead in his tracks to talk about how I sold my soul for success. That I'd actually let this little profession become a part of my soul, my identity.

You see, in saying that I sold my soul, he cuts and severs all ties to being anything similar to me.

That I would allow a profession, one as simple and unintrusive as professional fucking wrestling to breach past my own sense of professionalism and become personal. I don't care about wrestling. This, all this, is just something I do because I'm bored.

I have no motivation is what I'm getting at.

Why should I actually attempt to challenge Madison (one of the few capable of making me break a sweat), when all that accomplishes for me, is fucking nothing?

No, I'll stay right here and effortlessly be the European champion. The champion of Europe. Holder of this title that means less each second I hold it while telling you how little I care.

So go ahead, I dare you take it.

Hold onto it and try to get the respect you so desperately crave, despite the fact that you act snarky and try to make it seem like you don't care. Beat me down and hold it high above your head because at the end of the day...

I'm just holding this prop to piss off Heyman.

To piss off everyone in the company, because I'm so damn good, that I don't need to try.

I just do.

And me coasting by and half assing every match I'm in exceeds everyone's ability and that terrifies them. So they try to poke fun at pointless, pointless things like my affiliation.

The affiliation that makes up the entire upper echelon of the XWF.

John Madison - King.

Shane - Owner.

Mr. Supernova - TV champ.

Eli James IV - US champ.

NAZI - Man who'll carry you to victory and then beat your carcass down.

Me - European champ.

Theo Pryce - Whatever the fuck it is he does.

That's The Black Circle for ya. Running rampant across the XWF, taking everything that the commoners want, and keeping it safe and sound because at your hardest, you peasants couldn't even get the job done on an injured one of us, let alone any of us at full health.

So sit there, cry on the inside, and hope you get a briefcase.

Oh, you'll be too much of a pussy to actually use it?

Sounds about right.

You say you want a revolution?

You aren't fucking getting it."

Fade to The Black Circle.

You saw what?!?!(RP3)

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 06:30:10 -0800

I had made my way to Ava's house. Mama Joe wrote the address down for me. I parked my car across the street and made my way to the front door. I knocked and waited. After a minute I knocked again. Nothing. I gabbed the door knob and turned it. It was unlocked. I didn't like that. So I moved slowly into the house. I shut the door quietly. I looked around and saw no one. So I made my way slowly into the living room. The T.V. was on and a fresh cup of coffee was on the table that was in the center of the room. Okay, well someone was here and they just poured a cup of fresh coffee, but where was Ava? Mama Joe said she lived alone. So it had to be her's.

So from the living room I made my way to the kitchen. Her car was in the driveway and it didn't look like anyone broke in or anything of the sort. I noticed a pile of letters on the kitchen table and went through them. This mail wasn't phone bills or credit card statements. No they were threats. Someone had been sending Ava threats of harm and death. Shit. I hope I wasn't too late. I kept on reading the letters, some were written in blood, others they used magazine clippings. As the read some of the letters. I felt cold metal on the back of my head and then heard the cocking of a gun. No, it wasn't a handgun. I could tell by just the sound of it. It was a double barrel shotgun.

???:"Hold it right there. Put your hands up and turn slowly. I'll blow you head off if you try to make a move."

I knew the voice. It was Ava. Good. She knew what she was doing. I felt the metal being taken from the back of my head. I did what she said to do. I turned slowly with my hands in the air. When I finally turned and was facing her. She relaxed and set the shotgun down and hugged me around the neck. I didn't say a word and wrapped my arms around her.

Gunner B.Layfield:"Okay, what's going on. I'm pretty sure you don't greet all your guests with shotguns to the back of their heads. So, tell me what's going on."

Ava:"Well I'm sure you could guess, seeing that you were reading the letters. Someone is trying to kill me because I saw a murder. I don't know how they found out where I live, but they been sending those letters and even nailed a dead rat to my front door. Gunner, I'm scared. So that's why I haven't been going to work this pass week."

I turned back to the letters and looked them over again.

Gunner B.Layfield:"And you can't go to the cops. They even sent you black and white photos of the Longhorn, Mama Joe and....ah shit even me. This is bad, but that doesn't mean they will win. Whoever this is has to be someone who will lose a lot if you go to the cops about the murder. So they are going to kill you before hand."

Ava:"I know when they are coming. It's today. I don't know what to do. I don't want to die."

Tears started to run down her cheek. I turned and pulled her into a hug and held her. She buried her face into my chest.

What Ava and Gunner didn't know was there was a car parked outside. Three men sat in the car talking and plotting.

Hitman 1:"Okay, so you all know what to do right? Kill the girl, in and out. Then we burn the house down."

Hitman 2:"Got it"

Hitman 3:"Yep, let's get this bitch. I'd like to get this done fast. It's my kid's birthday."

The men checked their guns before getting out of the car and shutting the doors behind them. They made their way to the house. What they didn't know was their was a Marine in the house.

I looked up from hugging Ava when I heard the sounds of car doors slamming shut. I let her go and made my way to the living room and peeked out the window. Three armed men were making their way to the house. All masked and carrying just handguns complete with suppressors. The way they were moving told me they were not trained one day bit. It was a shitty hit team. Of course they wouldn't send in their best guys. They thought they were only dealing with a woman. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

I went back into the kitchen and grabbed the shotgun. I checked it to see if it was really loaded. Yes it was, but it's an old habit to check of the gun had live rounds in. I looked at Ava.

Gunner B.Layfield:"I need you to go up stairs and get under the bed. Bullets will be flying and I don't need you hit. What I need is to know where the extra ammo is."

Ava didn't say a word and walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed a box of shotgun shells. She handed them to me. I set the box on the table and started to put shells into my pant's pockets. Ava gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was guessing for good luck.

Ava:"Don't die on me. Please."

Gunner B.Layfield:"I won't. I still got to beat Damien Callaway into a bloody mess."

She ran to the stairs and up it. I took in a deep breath and let the air out slowly. It was time, time to show these guys what happens when you fuck with a Marine's friends. Death is sure to follow.

Dies Irae

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:19:34 -0800

The day has finally arrived, Lethal Lottery 2. Theo Pryce’s first Pay Per View as a member of the XWF. And what an event it will be. Especially for Theo and his Black Circle brethren, or as John Madison likes to refer to them, “his group of cum guzzling super friends.”, I’m not sure John lives in the same reality as the rest of us but that shouldn’t really be news to anyone. As is the case of Theo, he has arrived at the arena several hours ahead of the other wrestlers. His rationale for doing so is rather simple, the XWF is his escape. Day in and day out he spends his time sitting at the head of the table at Pryce Industries, wheeling and dealing with whatever country or group of self anointed revolutionaries wants to buy his companies weapons. But the XWF…the XWF offers him a chance to get away from it all. It doesn’t hurt when he gets to surround himself with guys like Nova, Nazi, crazy Luca and his lovely cocaine habit, even John Madison has his redeeming qualities, few and far between that they may be.

As Theo continues to wander the halls of the venue picked out for tonight’s events he can’t help but think of his sister Erica and how her date with NAZI is going. To be honest, Theo was a bit surprised that NAZI asked Erica out. Not because she isn’t worthy of such a thing but because the notion of NAZI having the time or desire to spent with a woman, whether it’s over a cup of coffee or in bed together is something that Theo never thought NAZI would be interested. But alas, as the great Bob Dylan used to say “The Times They Are A Changing.” Rounding the corner Theo is spotted by none other than Liz Weinberg, one of the XWF’s two interviewers. With Theo being the first star to arrive Liz approaches hoping to get some time with one of the XWF’s fastest rising stars.

“Mr. Pryce, do you have a moment?”

“Several actually. Would like you one?”

“Yes I would.”

“Well great. Should we find a dark and dank apartment, or perhaps a Janitor’s closet that doubles as my office? What would you suggest Liz?”

“I see you are familiar with your opponent’s recent promos. I think talking right here is fine.”

“Of course I am familiar with John’s promos. In this day in age with Twitter and Tumblr, Facebook and Snapchat, nothing happens without being relayed worldwide almost instantaneously.”

“Well, what are your thoughts? John Madison, your opponent, your friend had some rather interesting things to say about you, and about the rest of the Black Circle. Nothing nice I might add.”

“Of course you’ll add that last little bit in, it’s part of the narrative. Here’s the thing Liz. John has reached a level in this sport that few others have. He’s the King of the XWF, literally and figuratively. He has a crown and everything. Sometimes he likes to troll around Burger King wearing the crown and scaring all the kids by telling them that he’s the Burger King. Oh that John, what a character. But seriously though, John, like all men who reach the pantheon of their chosen profession, they get a little big headed. They forget about the people that helped them get there. The people that have helped them stay there.”

“But you have only been in the XWF for two months; you had nothing to do with John Madison’s legacy.”

“You are absolutely right. I didn’t. But those other guys, Luca, Nova, NAZI, Shane and some others. They all did and now in John’s version of revisionist history he wants to minimize their role in his little play. And you know what, that’s his call. I had nothing to do with his rise to fame. But I sure as hell have had everything to do with him staying there. If it weren’t for my money, my team of A list lawyers John Madison would be in jail getting raped harder than Jerry Sandusky. And we all know how pederasts get handled in jail. Just ask Dean McGovern that sick fuck. You remember that whole Matt Ward fiasco? He had John dead to rights but as I’ve said before, nothing some money can’t fix.”

“Are you suggesting that you paid off Matt Ward to drop his suit against John Madison ?”

“No, I’m telling you that I paid off some Detectives to fuck with the evidence of the case. No case, no law suit by Matt Ward. Do you know how much Detectives make these days? For the work they do? It’s disgusting. It’s no wonder those folks will take a bribe any chance they can get.”

“You realize that you could go to jail for admitting to such things?”

“Please, people like me, we don’t go to jail and if on the off chance that we do, it’s some minimum security club med type deal. Really, for guys like me, it’s a vacation. Away from the daily grind, the phone calls and the emails. In fact after tonight I may go play that “Knockout” game with some elderly woman get myself a stint in the local clink. I could use some time off.”

“So let me ask you, everyone seemed to believe that come match time you were just going to lay down and let Madison keep his thing going as the King of the XWF but that doesn’t sound like that’s the case anymore. Is that an accurate statement?”

“Yes and no. Laying down was never an option. That’s not me. I don’t care if my opponent is John Madison or Jesus Christ himself. So to answer the question that you didn’t ask but were surely thinking, no, yesterdays coming out party for John has nothing to do with how I am or how I was ever going to approach this match.”

“And what about his stipulation? That the loser is buried alive in Shane ’s feces?”

“Just more motivation to win I suppose.”

“And you have no concerns about being buried in Shane’s shit? You are facing the King of the XWF after all.”

“Am I? I honestly wasn’t sure about that, it’s not like John ever makes mention of his achievements. For a second there I thought he was just some other guy. But now that you mentioned it, taking on the King and all, no, I’m not worried, and I’ll tell you why. Because John Madison of today isn’t John Madison of 6 months ago, it might have something to do with him hitting sauce, hard. It might not. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Alright, well I think we’ve beat a dead horse there regarding your match. How do you feel about the rest of The Black Circle’s chances tonight?”

“You mean John’s Ass-Kiss Brigade?”

“If that’s what you want to call them, sure.”

“I’m just repeating, not coining the name myself. As for their chances tonight, I think they are all in good shape. I will say that amidst John’s mental breakdown earlier I think he was spot on in his assessment of the rest of the groups chances. Nova, Luca, NAZI even the guy who likes to ride The Black Circle’s coat tails Eli James, none of them have equals in their respective matches. NAZI might have the hardest go of it though. ESP is no joke, neither is Dr. Zero for that matter. Meanwhile NAZI has the unfortunate task of having to carry a team with Tony Santos. As guy who is only in this tournament because Mr. Potato head had a momentary lapse in sanity.”

“You say that but Tony has won a few matches since he was put back into the tournament.”

“Has he? If memory serves his partner, which is usually ESP has carried him through this tournament. Or are you referring to that cluster fuck of a match where he and some other asshat had simultaneous pins? Sure, you can count that if you want. I wouldn’t but hey I’m not you. But hey, regardless of NAZI’s handicap to winning the Lottery I still think he will get the job done. The man is determined.”

“Determined, like wanting to carry out a plan of mass genocide, determined like that?”

“I see a little bite in you Liz, but isn’t that topic a little bit above your pay grade so to speak? Aren’t you paid to ask about the XWF, not what we all do in our spare time?”

“I am paid to interview the talent of the XWF, there are no off limits subjects as far as I know.”

“As far as you know. We’ll we will see about that. It’s been a pleasure as always Liz.”

Theo turns to leave and get’s maybe 15 feet down the hall from Liz before he turns and yells back to her.

“Your last name is Weinberg right?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just asking. You might want to steer clear of NAZI, you know, mass genocide and all. Wouldn’t want to see the XWF’s star reporter become Victim #1.”

A lock of shock and disgust comes across Liz’s face as Theo picks up his bag and continues his walk about the arena.

You Can Lead This Horse to Irradiated Water and She'll Sure As Hell Drink (LL- RP #4)

Wed, 27 Nov 2013 02:46:53 -0800

Tony Santos sits in the hotel lobby at the Dallas Marriott City Center in Dallas, Texas. This is the last leg of his trip to nowhere before the Lethal Lottery Pay Per View on Wednesday. Tony looks considerably better than he did during his time in Houston, albeit with some cuts and bruises to show from both his confrontation at Poison Girl during the day, and his hobble down the busy freeway at night. Having hitched a ride with a kind Texan from one city to the next, Tony found himself spending one more night in peace (a/k/a, without Shannon) before heading off to the event, and he was savoring it.

Tony sits in a modest, brown leather chair near the welcome desk. With it being the middle of the day in Dallas, it's right around check in/check out time, so while some folks are leaving, others are lugging their bags and children in as seemingly orderly of a fashion as possible. However, no matter which way they happen to be going, they're all drawn in by Tony's appearance in the lobby. Both due to his size and slightly rugged appearance, as well as the XWF camera that's pointed directly at his face. A few children run behind Tony to wave to the camera, only to have Tony wave them off like flies at a cookout while berating their parents simultaneously. Tony looks to the camera, asks if it's on, and, upon receiving the thumbs up, begins to speak.

Santos: Ladies and gentlemen! We're so, so close to my night. The big night. The night where I become not only European champion, but also the newest 24/7 briefcase holder. So, so, so close.

Heh, that's been the motto of my six months here. So, so close. Always so close, but so far away. Two near misses at the US Title. A TV Title brawl with Nova that came down to a violent battle at the top of a steel cage, only for Nova to sneak out with the win. And that fucking Xtreme Title. Won and then swiped away from me seemingly in an instant.

So, so close, but not good enough.

So, so close.

But not this time. Nope, things are looking up. Despite the consistent level of inebriation, my mind feels clear and free. I'm newly inspired for my match with Luca, the match that I've been yearning for... oh, and with Sweet Cheapshots too, I guess... and I finally, finally get to put Egyptian Snow Pharaoh in the corner that she so desperately needed to be put in as a child. I'll have the opportunity to slap around that freak product of science gone horribly wrong, Dr. Zero, and expose him for the fluke that he truly is.

It's going to be a wonderful night.

Some people gather around Tony, staring in to the camera lens like deer in headlights, unsure whether they're on some sort of program of importance or a broadcast of some religious yahoo spouting off nonsense while in a fucking hotel lobby, since, well, they weren't actually paying attention to what Tony was saying. Hell, he might as well have been speaking Arabic. Maybe then they'd listen... or run in fear. Spouting off a bunch of well constructed noise in order to intimidate those around him. Similar to...

Santos: Egyptian Snow Pharaoh. Like most people in this company, I had the good fortune of watching her recent diatribe, and, thankfully for me, it was once again mainly about me! So few people in this company have had such a glorious honor bestowed upon them as the verbal projectile vomit that is an Egyptian Snow Pharaoh promo, and I've had two in a matter of days! Oh!

Unfortunately, it was tough to watch. It was tough to watch her rebuttal to my words in the same way that it's been tough to watch her rebuttal to other attacks on her. Why? Because, ESP is too delusional to understand the holes in her own arguments. Her seeming inability to understand when she's deploying schoolyard comebacks along the lines of, let's see how much I can poke and prod people, and then, then, after I've said my piece, and they respond, I'll call shenanigans! Uh! How dare you respond! You sound... desperate! Like... a puppet!

Funny, how the only people that make those sorts of arguments are the ones being played. The ones with the weakest attacks and the weakest defenses are the ones who, upon receiving any sort of return fire, immediately throw their hands up and become the victim.

It's a lose-lose situation, isn't it, ESP? Respond and, mwah ha ha, you stuck it to ol' Santos. Don't respond and... mwah ha ha, you stuck it to ol' Santos because he was too afraid to respond!! It's like the middle school bully who isn't prepared for the target to actually fight back. Next thing you know, the bully finds himself, on the ground, defeated. A challenger stepped up, and the bully lacked the cajones to get it done.

ESP, we can go back and forth, back and forth, all day about our paths in Lethal Lottery. I could continue to bait you...

...see what I did there?...

...and you'd continue to respond, but, here's the thing. I'm here, in the finals, going for the briefcase that you seem to believe I don't deserve... and that's A-ok with me. I'm smiling, babe. I'm that "drunk that got lucky," as my Aryan partner says, and shit, if I get "lucky" again, I'll be damn happy to take it. The best part of this whole ride has been how fun it's been to watch others do the work for me.

- You in the first round, shaming Salman Van Dam out of the tournament and seemingly the XWF.

- Shane , the leader of The Black Circle of all groups, you know, the group that despises me and the shit stain group called The Brotherhood, who let me back in to this tournament on a free ride after I fucked with the entire process by taking SVD in the first place.

- That idiot ref and Shane again when they awarded my pin alongside Mystica's.

- Your sweet, troll baiting ass for two more rounds while I coasted along for the journey.

And hey, if it takes another fluke to get the job done, bring it the fuck on. Give me outside interference. Give me a controversial decision by a blind ref. Give me Dr. Zero spontaneously combusting in the middle of the ring.

Give me Egyptian Snow Pharaoh... getting counted out when some sap in the back throws her a line of insults from the entrance ramp, and ESP can't help but take the bait.

Tony smiles as he unbuttons the top two buttons of his black button-down shirt, winking at the camera.

Santos: I may not have the "assets" that you have to pull this move off, but babe, as you can see, I've found my ways to make it through this tournament. I've found my ways to poke and prod at Paul Heyman and Luca Arzegotti to get my European Title shot on the exact same night, and I'll find a way to topple both you and Dr. Zero. It's just what I do. It's in my nature. I'll always find a way to be a more vile bastard than you can ever imagine yourself becoming on your worst day, ESP, so don't let this drunken, snarky veneer fool you like it's fooled Zero... like it's fooled NAZI.

Come Lethal Lottery, I'll lead you to the guillotine and off you in an instant.

The scene fades to black.